diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-21 20:43:26 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-21 20:43:26 -0800 |
| commit | 960d0027464459d6d46c25c21f7e0565f2734f80 (patch) | |
| tree | 262a9475481e7b109512f5985ced5f82e6c430cf | |
| parent | bd915436c49ccaf85188ded4929bec5f1e41628d (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68207-0.txt | 4760 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68207-0.zip | bin | 83426 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68207-h.zip | bin | 2649744 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68207-h/68207-h.htm | 6469 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68207-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 2563035 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68207-h/images/i_logo.jpg | bin | 3390 -> 0 bytes |
9 files changed, 17 insertions, 11229 deletions
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..306876a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68207 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68207) diff --git a/old/68207-0.txt b/old/68207-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 49ae743..0000000 --- a/old/68207-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4760 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of As the hart panteth, by Hallie Erminie -Rives - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: As the hart panteth - -Author: Hallie Erminie Rives - -Release Date: May 30, 2022 [eBook #68207] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by University of California - libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AS THE HART PANTETH *** - - AS THE HART PANTETH - - BY - - HALLIE ERMINIE RIVES. - - NEW YORK: COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY _G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers_, - MDCCCXCVIII. [_All rights reserved._] - - - - - TO - A MEMORY. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - PAGE - - THE CHILD 7 - THE GIRL 104 - THE WOMAN 185 - - - - -AS THE HART PANTETH. - - - - -THE CHILD. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -HE sat just outside the lofty doorway, that opened between the bare -hall and front verandah. The great white columns held a wild clematis -vine, the leaves of which almost concealed the bricks where the plaster -had fallen off. Presently a child came out with a violin in her hand. -She went up to him, and laying her full cheek against his shrunken -one, caressed him. Her blue eyes that went black in an instant, from -the pupils’ swift dilation, had the direct gaze of one knowing nothing -of the world and never fearing to be misunderstood. She was slim yet -strong; her waving hair that fell softly about her face was the color -of sunburnt cornsilk, her skin ovalling from it, smooth and white, like -a bursting magnolia bud. - -“Grandpa, I can play ‘The Mocking Bird’ for you now.” - -“Play it, God’s child; play it,” he said. - -As she leaned against the column and began playing, his face, old and -worn with many griefs, seemed, for a moment, rejuvenated by the spirit -of his lost youth. His heart stirred strangely within him, and he was -minded of another slim, little girl, who came down to the gate to meet -him when the day was done in the long ago. She had the same glorious -hair, and tender, fearless eyes and love for him. But that was more -than forty years gone by and she was dead. - -As the strains became fuller and sweeter, a bird began twittering, -trilling among the leaves, imitating the sounds it heard. - -“Listen. Do you hear that, Esther?” whispering, as he searched for -a sight of the singer. “There it is. It’s a mocking bird,” he said, -pointing to the young thing, as the fluting feathers on its throat -stood out like the pipes of an organ. Its song, accompanying the tune, -never ceased until the violin was tossed upon the bench and the child -was in the old man’s arms. - -“That was beautiful, beautiful!” His eyes were filled with tears of -enthusiasm that fell upon her hair. - -“Your mother used to play that, when she was young.” He spoke with the -weight of profound emotion, that glowed in his eyes, and quivered on -his lips. - -“And did the bird sing with her?” a softer look coming upon the -childish face. - -“I don’t remember that it did, though she was always a friend to the -birds that built their nests about us. She kept the boys from breaking -them up or trapping them. Every spring they sang here in the trees. -They seemed to know that she was looking after them. That must have -been what she was born for. She was always watching over something or -somebody.” He swallowed hard. “I can see her now, bending over her -work, late at night, stitching away, with her fingers on those gray -clothes for the boys in the army--your Uncle Billy and your father.” - -“Was she little, then?” Esther inquired, while with one hand she -clasped his wrist, and with the other stroked his brow. - -“No. When the war broke out, she was just about to be married to your -father, who had been appointed Captain under General Lee. She made a -coat for him and quilted money in the collar. She had a way of doing -things that nobody would have thought of. You remind me of her.” He -folded his hands across his stick and was silent for a moment. “There -is much about her life that I want you to know, and bear in mind, now -that you are getting old enough to understand. She had great hopes for -you, for your music. I’ve been thinking how proud she would be if she -could know that you had got along well enough to be invited to play at -the University--on commencement night at that. I ask nothing higher for -you than that you make such a woman as your mother.” - -They did not see the old negro, ragged to the skin, coming around the -corner of the house, carrying his discolored straw hat in one hand and -mopping his face on a faded cotton handkerchief. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -“G’MORNIN’, Marse Hardin.” - -“Howdy, Sandy. Where did you come from? I thought you’d gone clear out -of the country, for good.” - -“Nor sir, nor sir. You jes’ let a nigger git a taste of dis here spring -water, and he’s charmed, conjured, he kyant stay away if he do go. But -I come back, dis time, to see my young marster--Marse Davy Pool.” - -“How is he to-day?” - -“He daid. Dat’s what I was sent to tell you. Dey guinter bury him up at -de old place.” - -“I am sorry to hear of his death, Sandy. He was the best one of the -boys.” - -“Dat’s so, sir; ’tain’t nobody guine to miss him like his mammy do. -She’s told me to ax you for your hoss and buggy. She’s afeared of the -boys’ hosses, dey keep such wild uns. Marse Davy sold his’n, dat was -the onliest one she would ride behind. She said she wanted Marse Hardin -Campbell’s. It was so trusty and gentlelike.” - -“I was going to use it after dinner.” Mr. Campbell hesitated. - -“Send it on, grandpa. Send it on.” Esther saw the inquiring look her -grandfather turned upon her. “Something will turn up.” - -“Suppose it shouldn’t; would you be disappointed?” he asked. - -“I never count on being disappointed,” she responded, quickly. - -“Ain’t she some kin to Miss Mary Campbell?” The negro’s face lighted as -he asked the question. - -“That’s her daughter, Miss Esther Powel.” - -“It ’peared to me like I seed de favor in her face. Ev’ybody loved your -mammy, honey. ’Twarn’ nobody that didn’t,” he said, turning to look -again at Esther. - -“The horse is in the pasture.” Mr. Campbell turned to the child. “Can’t -you run and show him where the bridle is?” Bareheaded, she bounded -down the steps, and motioned to the old negro to follow. She took the -bridle and swung it over his arm. “Mind the foot log. Uncle Sandy, the -hand rail has been washed away. The pasture is over the creek. There is -Selam now, under the sweet gum tree.” She pointed. “You will find the -harness in the carriage house here.” - -She watched him go over the slope to the creek, then stood gazing -about her in childish contemplation. It was nearly noon. The shadow -straightening in the doorway indicated it. - -Mr. Campbell looked and saw her. His heart warmed toward her -comeliness; moreover she was sweet of nature and had a ready smile even -for those who had not been kind to her. Suddenly she disappeared in -the direction of the carriage house. She feared that her pony could -not pull the heavy vehicle that alone was left to take her to the -University. It taxed her strength to draw the heavy bar from across -the carriage house door. She sprang backward, as she dropped it upon -the ground; then went in to examine the carriage that had not been -used since she was a baby, almost fifteen years before. The clumsy -conveyance had small iron steps that let down--steps that her mother’s -child feet had pressed in climbing to the seat. The wheels were so -heavy and cumbersome that she shook her head doubtfully. The green -satin lining was in shreds; the worn leather seats covered with tufts -of hair, while here and there a dead leaf or twig was tangled in its -coarse mesh. It had required a pair to draw it in those old days. She -had forgotten that. The tongue was held up in its position above by a -girder in the loft. Esther gave it a strong, hard pull; the tongue fell -forward, and as she skipped out of its path the lumbering old carriage -went rolling down the incline, and clouds of dust, as though indignant -at being disturbed, sullenly rose and fell about her. - -Old and dilapidated harness that hung down from the walls swayed slowly -in the general commotion. Esther wiped the dust from her eyes and drew -a long breath, looking defiantly at the result. She looked down. There, -at her feet, lay a bird, fluttering beside its fallen nest. Her face -lost its look of defiance. - -“You poor, little thing,” bending down and cuddling it to the softness -of her cheek. “Don’t die, please, don’t die!” she said, in dismay. “It -will break my heart if I have killed you.” With tears streaming down -her face she ran swiftly to the house. - -“Grandpa, do something for it,” laying it in his hand. “Can you save -it? It’s a mocking bird, too. I shook it out of the carriage.” - -“They have nested there for years,” he said as he drew the wings gently -through his fingers. “They are not broken,” he assured her. - -“Are you sure it will live?” She was looking at him with frightened -eyes. - -“Live? Yes; and have a nest and young ones of its own next year. It is -only stunned. Leave it in the parlor where it will be safe from the -cats and it will be all right soon.” - -A faint rumbling noise broke in upon their voices. They looked up to -listen. It was like the sound of a wagon rolling. “Put it away, quick, -and run to the creek to show them how to cross the ford.” They had kept -close watch over the passers since the winter hauling had cut deep -holes in the bed of the stream. It was a treacherous crossing. Closing -the door upon her charge, Esther ran through the garden, the nearest -way. She sped with the lithe agility of a young fawn, and before the -newcomer was fairly into the stream she was there giving directions. -The mountain stream ran fleet between its low banks, winding in haste -through the valley. Tall sycamores, sentinels in silver armor, stood -beside it on either hand. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -MR. CAMPBELL stood watching. Very soon the front gate opened and a boy -came in, driving two white mules, with red tassels on their bridle -bits. Amazement filled his eyes when he saw that it was a wagon load of -coffins, and on the topmost one Esther sat smiling. As they drove up -near the door, he went out to help her down. - -“Didn’t I tell you something would turn up, grandpa; this wagon is -going right by the University this evening.” She threw her arms about -his neck; her laugh rang out in pure triumph. “Hitch your team, young -man; a boy will come to take it out and feed it.” When they saw -Esther again she was ready for her jaunt. Her violin was in its case; -her fresh white organdie folded with as much care as she gave to -anything--duty and care were unknown to her. Her visit to the University -by such a conveyance would be the extreme limit of indulgence, yet she -had no thought of being denied. - -“I am ready,” she announced at table. Mr. Campbell burst into a laugh, -half of annoyance, yet touched with the ring of true amusement. - -“I really believe you would go.” - -“I’d go on foot if necessary to keep my promise,” she answered quickly. - -“How could the college folks know that Mr. David Pool had to be buried -to-day when they printed my name on the programme?” - -Watching her eyes, he caught their softness, their innocence, and knew -that her eagerness was sincere. - -“Let her go, Mr. Campbell, I’ll take good care of her.” The boy was -a Rudd. Although he held a lowly position, he was not counted of the -common people. Mr. Campbell had the old Virginia pride of race in him. - -“I know you would.” - -Esther looked steadily into his gray eyes and saw a relenting twinkle. - -“Am I going?” Turning to her with a quiet smile: “Yes, you may go.” -He could not see her disappointed when her heart was so determined. -With a little cry of joy she brought her hands together. “I wish you -could come along, grandpa. It will be such fun, and I wanted you to -hear me to-night.” When the wagon came around Esther was helped up with -her case and bundle. Her violin she held tenderly across her arm. Mr. -Campbell went with them to close the gate. - -“Good-bye; you will be in for me to-morrow.” Leaning down, she embraced -his head. “Be sweet, God’s child,” he said, as they drove off. Esther -kissed her hand to him, as he stood by the roadside looking after them. -The cook, at the kitchen door, waved her dish rag for a frantic moment. -The whirl of dust from the wheels soon clouded the view. The old man -turned, and went slowly back to the house with a misty smile over his -features. - -A quaint, pathetic figure that, of Hardin Campbell, with his age, his -poverty and the care of this child. Here had once been planter life in -its carelessness and lavishness. It had been the home of friend and -neighbor and the hospitable shelter of the transient guest. All the -grand folk that came that way made this place headquarters in the days -when Mr. Campbell was reckoned rich. But what he had lost in wealth he -had more than gained in pride, and the child was brimming over with -it. Generous, impetuous, enthusiastic, as she was, this wild young -creature of nature, unhindered, venturesome and full of whims, would, -he hoped, find pride her safeguard. He did not believe in curbing her. -He guided, but did not limit her and tried to keep from her all warping -influences. This was the way her mother had begun with her and he was -only continuing her way for a while--it could not be very long before -he would have to resign his charge. To whom--he did not know and could -not bear to dwell upon the thought. - -About the whole place there was evidence of departed glory. In the -great white buildings which rose from the labyrinth of shrubbery like -grim ghosts of the past; in the rows of cabins, formerly the dwellings -of a horde of happy-hearted negroes, everywhere was evidence of the -bygone prodigal days. The house, of colonial style, with its series -of tall columns standing about the broad colonnade, was partially -screened by the live oaks and was set some distance back from the big -road. These encircling columns were built of brick, with a coating of -plaster, once as white as the teeth of Uncle Simon, the plantation -white-washer, who in former days would put an immaculate dress on -them regularly once a month by means of an elevated step-ladder, -but now Uncle Simon’s labors were done. The neglected columns were -crumbling with age and sadly splotched with the red of exposed masonry. -At one side of the verandah there spread the delicate green of -the star-jassamine, with its miniature constellations flecking the -background. Through the vista, leading to the house, from the big gate -in front, flashed the crimson of a flowering-pear in full blossom. The -blinds of the house that had once been green, were now hanging from -their hinges, weather-stained, giving full view of a number of broken -window panes, in one of which, on the second story, was perched a wren, -whose energetic chattering over her nest hardby was the most decided -indication of active life. - -In the rear of the buildings stretched the cabins. To the right of -them were the stables and the carriage house, with its weather vane of -a flying steed on the top, but for years the most vigorous gales had -failed to spur this steed to action and its tail, at one time proudly -aflaunt to the breeze, had yielded to time and rust, and, like that of -Tam o’Shanter’s mare, knew naught of direction. There was the dreary -stillness of desolation over all things. But still a hospitable glow -was in the summer sunshine and shone as well in the eyes of the old -master. - -Esther took off her hat when she got into the depths of the woods and -drew out her violin. “I will amuse the boy,” she thought, “if I play to -him,” for she had tired of talking against the rumbling of the wagon -and its load. In his way, he appreciated her motive, for now and again -he called back to her, awkwardly commending her, and urging her to -continue. Near the spring they saw the negro washerwomen, with sleeves -rolled to their shining shoulders, bending over their tubs; faded, limp -skirts, bloused through apron belts, and dangled about their bare legs. -A big wash kettle heaped with white linen stood to one side. Around it -a fire was burning low for want of fuel. - -“O--o--h! Yo’ Tagger, Tag-g-e-r; you’d better come on here, ef you know -what’s good for you,” called one of the women with a long, resounding -echo that drowned the answer of the small voice that said he was on his -way. A troop of little niggers came to the roadside pulling a wagon -load of brush and bark gathered through the woods. They looked back and -spied Esther on the coffins. With a wild yell the children, load and -all, tumbled over the embankment, rolling over each other in the dust, -screaming, “Mammy! mammy!” at the top of their voices, scrambling to -their feet and running with might and main down the road. As Esther -drew up to the wash-place, the little fellows were clinging frantically -to the knees of their mothers. - -“It’s a little ha’nt blowin’ Gabel’s trumpet. Don’t let it ketch me! -don’t let it ketch me!” - -“In de name ob de Lawd!” said one of the women, seeing what had caused -the fright; “ain’t you all got de sense you was born wid? Don’t you -know Miss Esther Powel, Marse Hardin’s granddaughter?” The eyes of the -pickaninnies were blinded by the wads of wet aprons they had covered -them with, and the sound of the wheels filled them with terror. “Dry -up!” The big dripping hand pounded on their heads. “Scuse ’em, Miss -Esther, you’d think dese youngun’s been fotch up wid wild injun’s.” - -“Tagger,” Esther called the boy, whose name, Montague, she had been -responsible for. “Don’t you know me? I played for you to dance a jig -for the young men who used to visit Will Curtis before he died. You -haven’t forgotten that, have you?” Hearing her familiar voice, he -slowly peeped out with scared eyes. - -“You little monkey. Dip me some water out of the spring.” She saw a -long, yellow gourd hanging from a striped bough above their heads. “I -want a drink.” He sprang up and snatched the gourd, and before she -could say more, he was holding it up to her, standing on his tiptoes, -grinning, as the tears ran down and stained his dusty face. - -“I am going to play at the University to-night,” she said, hanging back -the gourd. - -“You don’ say? One of dem ’Varsity gemmen’s coming out to see Marse -Will’s folks next week.” Tagger’s mother lived with the Curtises, whose -home was just beyond the spring. “I’ll be bound, you beat ’em all dar -if you does play to-night,” she said when she saw they were leaving. - -Bareheaded, Esther rode on, as long as the shade was over them, tying -on her hat only when they got to the sunny way of the road. A man -plowing in a cornfield, looked up as he stopped at the turn of the row. -He gazed intently, rapping the line mechanically about his wrist. - -“What is her grandpa thinking of?” seeing it was Esther, whom he knew. -“But she’d a gone in spite of hell and high water.” With this aloud -to himself, he drew his shirt sleeve across the sweat on his brow and -trudged back down the row, relieved. - -After two hours or more, through the heat, Esther was glad when at last -she could see the end of her journey. The sunlight lay radiant upon the -stretch of country famed for this honored institution of learning. -Just before her, upon an eminence, spread the University buildings, -the tall spires marking their profile on the sky. The sun’s rays shot -up behind them its last warm flashes. Its heat had already dampened -Esther’s hair, deepening the red tint of its waves against her temples. -The campus was alive with students coming and going in every direction. -The tenor of the glee club, in his striped sweater of the college -colors, humming a popular air, walked leisurely across to where one -fellow was sprawled on the ground, gazing at the wagon with an amused -curiosity on his handsome face. - -“By Jupiter! that’s a pretty child.” The tenor turned to look, as his -friend spoke. - -“Well, if that isn’t a caper! Wonder where she is bound?” Just then a -pert freshman, standing in a group, gave a college yell. Then there was -a chorus of rapturous cheers, in which most of them joined. Before the -noise had subsided, the man on the grass had leaped to his feet, full -of indignation, and dashed off toward the freshman. - -“Silence! you fellows! Have you forgotten yourselves?” A few hisses -were mingled with the applause that greeted him, but the freshman was -quick to say at his elbow: - -“I didn’t mean it for her.” - -“How could she know that?” He walked away saying: “I’ll wager there is -something out of the ordinary in that girl.” - -He was of the fiber that commanded the respect of men at a glance. - -“Andrews always turns up at the right time, you may count on that,” -said one of the students as he watched him sauntering in the direction -of the wagon, his eyes following the child. She was perched like -a white winged bird of good omen on a funeral pyre. Only a nature -adventurous to audacity would do such a thing as that. But he loved -daring personalities, strong motives and even a misadventure, if it -were a brave one. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -GLENN ANDREWS was, by every gift of nature, a man. His sensitive, -expressive face, his brown eyes glowing with a light that seemed to -come from within, his clear and resolute bearing, all gave evidence -of his sterling qualities. All through his college years he was known -among his fellows as a dreamer. His was one of those aloof--almost -morbidly solitary natures, to whom contact with the world would seem -jarring and out of key. The boys had nicknamed him “Solitaire.” He -had a womanly delicacy in morals, his sense of honor was as clean and -bright as a soldier’s sword. - -Those who knew him well loved him, and all of his school fellows -sought for his notice, the more, perhaps, because he gave it rarely. - -Whenever he played with them, it was as one who unconsciously granted a -favor. He was looked upon as a man who would be a sharer in the talents -of his race. This was his ambition. He had strong literary tastes and -was a serious worker. - -Often he champed at the bit through the slow routine of college -life--the genius within him thirsting for action like a spirited horse, -just in sound of the chase. - -After the exercises that night, the pretty faces and scent of roses -filled the chapel with light and fragrance. Everything was in warm -confusion, congratulations blended with tender farewells and honest -promises that youth was sure to break. - -Glenn Andrews, with the dignity that went well with his cap and gown, -was making his way out. The tenor touched him on the shoulder. - -“What did you think of that violin solo?” - -“Fine, my boy, fine! She played just before my turn, and she must have -been my inspiration, for I was surprised to get the medal.” - -“I’m jolly glad you got it anyhow.” - -“Did you find out who she was?” - -“Esther Powel. Her grandfather is a friend of Professor Stark. He did -it to give her a chance.” - -“Well she used it for all it was worth,” said Andrews. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -ESTHER was standing by the rim of a clear pool in the woods, gazing -down into the water. Her big hat was weighted with cockle blooms that -she had gathered in coming through the wheat. In this natural mirror -she could see that a stem here was too long, another there was turned -the wrong way to look well. With both hands to her head she was intent -upon regulating the effect to please her eye. Turning her head first -to one side, then another, she smiled at herself, impulsive, always -in motion, quick as a wren. The water was so clear that one could see -the last year’s leaves lying at its depths. It was deep and sloped -toward the center. Inverted it would look like a mound where children -are told that Indians are buried, when the one can think of no other -excuse for its grave-like appearance. This pool went by the name of -“Indian Well.” Esther had no thought but that she was alone, until she -saw an image, a serious young face, reflected there, with soft, brown -beard and hair, and deep eyes that wore a languid, meditating look. He -stooped and dipped his curved hand into the surface and was raising it -to his lips. Suddenly, instinctively, she bounded to his side, dashing -the water from his hands before he could drink. - -“Don’t you know there is fever in it?” - -For a moment he looked at her in wonder. - -“The fever,” he repeated, “what do you mean?” - -“The germs of typhoid--I thought everybody knew that.” - -“But you see I am not everybody,” he answered, laughing. - -She looked at every feature of his face. “But didn’t you feel like it -the other night?” - -This surprised him so that he had not made an answer when she went on: -“Everybody who has died of typhoid fever around here drank water out of -‘Indian Well.’ This is where they got the germ.” - -“I was never here before. You are very good to warn me.” He looked at -her and she seemed so sweet and beautiful as she stood there, between -him and danger. Whether real or imagined, her motive was the same. - -“Is your home near by?” - -“I live with my grandpa in the white house on the road as you came up.” - -“I didn’t come by the road; I came through by the wood-path from the -Curtises. I’m spending the summer there. What a pity this lovely spot -is poisoned, I am sorry; I might see you here again but for that. It -makes a pretty tryst,” he said. - -“Sorry? Why? You don’t know me.” - -This pleased him. He had found a refreshing creature. At the outset he -had thrilled at the prospect. - -“Don’t I? You played once where I had the pleasure of hearing you. Your -name is Esther--Esther Powel.” - -“Yes, and I have seen your face before I saw it in the water. They -called you ‘Glenn Andrews’ when they gave you the medal.” - -She slowly looked him over from head to foot, and smiled as if in a -trance of joy. It was all so wonderful, so strange--this hero’s coming. - -“But I am still ahead. You will never see me win laurels again, -perhaps, and I expect to hear you play many times.” - -“Don’t be sure. It’s no use for me to play. People don’t seem to care -whether they hear it or not. I play for myself, because the sounds from -my violin seem to express what I feel.” - -“But suppose I care?” - -“Then I will play for you sometime, if we should meet again.” - -“When could I get in your way?” - -“Most any time.” - -“Will you be home all summer?” - -“Yes, and winter, too.” She laughed at his question. - -“Let us sit down and rest a while together. I want to talk over the -pleasure that is in store for me.” - -Little did he think as she agreed, and they sat down on an old log, -how much in later life and amidst different scenes, he was to lament -that circumstance. “I have always loved the country. It is so true, so -beautiful; I love it from the bottom of my heart.” - -He lifted his face, drawing a deep breath; the air was clean and sweet -with the scent of growing things. - -“Everything is beautiful that’s natural,” she said, touching the -beflowered hat. “I never even wear ‘bought’ flowers, because they are -only make-believes. I hate anything that is not sure-enough.” - -“It’s a pretty idea. I wondered where you found this.” - -“Just made it.” - -She seemed to have grasped a good deal for her years. - -“I see you have learned a way of your own in your travels.” - -“Travels! I’ve never been out of this valley, but I have grandpa and my -mother and my dreams.” - -“Your mother. I heard that your mother was dead,” he said, quietly. - -“She isn’t as long as I am living,” was her answer. - -Glenn Andrews looked at her. There was wisdom in the sentiment she -expressed. All the childishness had passed out of her face. - -He hesitated, astonished. “I believe that, in a sense,” he said. “It is -my theory of fulfillment. What could spur us to higher destinies than -the belief that we were carrying out the hopes, the aims of someone we -loved--perpetuating their life through our own!” - -“She wanted me to be a musician,” Esther began with a sudden dimness -in her eyes. “She was one until she had rheumatism in her arms. I’ve -strength and health to build on, something she lacked. My mother was an -invalid all her life after I was born.” - -“Health is the most priceless gift in this world.” - -For a time he forgot it was near the dinner hour. He was caught by the -witchery of the girl and the place. - -He had expected to find nothing here but solitude and shade. The -adventure had been a delightful surprise to him. - -As they got up from the log: “I shall expect you to keep your promise -about the music. Are you going my way?” - -“No; mine is the opposite direction. I will play for you any time -because you want to hear me. Good-bye.” - -Glenn Andrews looked after her, as she went her way. Here was a study--a -promise. All his life he had loved growth. Anything in the course of -development delighted and inspired him. He struck off up the path that -wound out of the woods into the field. - -The scent of high summer was in the gold of the wheat. Running his -hands lightly over the bearded sheaves he whistled an air that was to -recall neither the genius that wrote it nor the hopes of his own work, -but the face of Esther Powel and the friendship thus begun, of which he -would never think lightly afterward. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -THE Curtis home had an ample territory over which extended eight large -rooms and as many half stories with dormer windows. The big mock -oranges locked antlers across the path that led from the gate to the -little square porch where the wood bees droned in and out of the nests -they had bored in the wooden posts. - -Mr. Curtis was a jovial man, round of face, short of stature, and given -to hospitality. He had been all his days faithful to that laborious -outdoor occupation--farming. In his old age the prosperous impression -that everything made proved that he had filled his place to some -account. - -Glenn Andrews, who had been his son’s comrade in life, was an honored -guest. His vacation, usually spent in travel, had been claimed by the -lonely parents this time. He was promised all manner of recreations -and indulgences. They hoped to send him back as hardy as an Indian, -his white face and hands bronzed as the leaves in their turning. Broad -hours and solitude. How welcome they were to him! His place was sacred -in this house, and no one was allowed to disturb or criticise him. He -had set apart a few hours each day for work. He could not devote all -his vacation to rest and pleasure. It was not his nature. A memory of -his strange, lonely boyhood came to him with vivid distinctness, and -the absolute despair, he suffered at the possibility of never being -able to achieve greatness in the world. He wanted to see good results -in his life. The whole intensity of his spirit was bent on that one -purpose. The world he would know, and the men that live in it. His mind -was full of daring conceptions and ideals. - -A wild grace permeated his personality, the strong and delightful -charm which was to make him a conqueror. - -That morning Glenn ate breakfast with the family by lamplight. He went -back to his window afterwards and watched the sun rise. At this season -of the year the beauty of Virginia was at its height. He delighted from -the first in the splendid scenery and moody weather. - -A haze of purple mist was lifting slowly from the mountains between -whose heart the valleys lay. The view was fresh with the lusty color -of midsummer. Exquisite perfumes, breath of young corn and cut clover, -came to him and grew sharper and sweeter as the dawn opened wide. In -nature he could see the warm heart of life, tender, strong and true. -In the distance stretched the wheat fields studded over with yellow -shocks, waiting for harvest-time. Later, as Glenn Andrews passed out on -his way to the woods, he saw the lengthening of the table, the unusual -hurry among the servants, which was a sign that he was to have dinner -that day in a harvest home. Wheat threshing time was on. This lover -of the sun, of long, wandering strolls, took the way he had not been. -It did not concern him much which way he took to solitude. Wherever -they met they made friends--he and solitude. They were so much alike. -Their sympathies were so much akin. Both were full of deep nature, -dignity and intense self-possession; they could not but find comforting -good-fellowship. With solitude he could almost hear the voice of God, -hear it speaking, between him and his hopes. Returning, he stopped at -“Indian Well.” A long time he sat there, face to face with his own -heart and brain. He made notes at times in a small book, which he kept -always with him. The class poet and editor of the college magazine -had a right to drop into rhyme whenever he felt like it, even though -the indulgence might never be known to the world. Glenn Andrews took -out his second cigar, drew a whiff of its scent and put it back in -his pocket. In his self-denial there was the compensation of looking -forward. He smoked it that afternoon over his work. The sun was -striking aslant and was not far from setting. Here was a broad hint to -hurry if he cared to see them harvesting. The engine sent its shrill -whistling call for “wheat” as he leaned over the fence. Dressed in a -hunting suit of brown tweed with tan boots laced from the ankle to the -knee, his broad hat pulled forward to shade his eyes, Glenn Andrews -attracted notice. The field was alive with toilers moving easily, -swiftly, leaning in a hundred graceful inclinations; some were loading -their wagons, lifting and loosening their shocks with a thrust of their -pitch-forks, others unloading them beside the thresher, clipping the -twine that bound the bundles and making a moving bridge of beaten gold -as they fed it. The heated engineer, with his oil-can, stood at the -head of the monstrous steam horse that had never lost its mysterious -power to charm the negro. - -Tagger often stopped to stare and wonder. The machinery belt, smooth -and glittering like a broad satin ribbon, industriously turning on -great wheels, made him dance, barefooted over the stubble, to the music -of its motion. Little imps, such as he, counted this day of the year a -holiday high above all others they had ever known. - -The mule that was driven with a long lasso under the straw as it fell -had a half-dozen or more children to pull every time it went to the -stack. In spite of the dust and the chaff that covered their heads and -half stifled them, they gave a wild dart and leaped upon the heap as -it was hauled away. Sometimes the wind took a whirl and scattered the -straw, niggers and all broadcast along the field. Glenn Andrews’ heart -beat lightly, the air thrilled with sounds, the music of the harvesters -and the hum of the thresher. There is nothing like life under the open -heaven, he knew. Glenn was a gypsy by nature. - -“How is it turning out?” he asked, coming up to Mr. Curtis, who was -counting the loaded wagons that were filled with sacks of wheat, -starting off to be stored. - -“Very good; the yield is something like sixteen bushels to the acre. -I’ll have about eighteen hundred altogether.” Glenn Andrews looked -up and saw a figure coming across the stubble--one that stood out in -delicate relief, slimmer, shapelier than the rest. She was all in -white; Mr. Curtis saw her, too. - -“Here comes the fly-up-the-creek,” he said. “She looks like a hearse -horse with all those elder blooms on her head.” His speech had no touch -of spitefulness. - -“I like her way; she is as wild and lawless as the wind, and as free.” -Glenn Andrews never thought or spoke of Esther without defense. - -“Yes, and as sprightly as they make ’em,” Mr. Curtis began. “She never -went to school a day in her life. Her mother taught her, and her -grandpa reads to her. But play the fiddle--she can play it to beat the -band. She just took it up first. She could catch any tune. A teacher -came along about two years ago who knew a little about the fiddle. -Mr. Campbell is very poor now. He let the lady board with him to -give Esther lessons while she was teaching in the district. She would -not practice, they say, but you never saw anybody learn like she did -without it.” - -“What a pity she hasn’t a chance to keep on.” - -“Yes, but she never will. The old man is failing; I don’t know what’s -to become of her when he’s gone. He worries over not being able to give -her a musical education. You’d never think it, he is so quiet about it.” - -“Has she no near relatives who would take her and help her to get a -start?” - -“Only one, a nephew of the old man, but he married a plain, common -woman. His marriage was a shock to the family. If his was made in -heaven, as some folks believe in, I say the Lord had a grudge against -him. He started out with fine prospects, but he’s had a lot of trouble. -It looks like some folks can’t have anything but trouble and children. -He has a family of six. He ain’t more than thirty.” - -Glenn took a deep breath. - -“With such a weight as that it is no wonder he is sore. I wish the -child did have some way to escape such a future. With a talent like -hers she could rise above the minor cares. The world already has enough -ill-paid drudges.” - -With this he left Mr. Curtis to meet Esther. - -“Can you show us anything prettier than this in your cities?” she -asked. Looking about her she thought it made the hardiest, happiest -scene in the world. - -“No, I could only show you something different--new; to the average mind -it is unaccustomedness that charms. I like this because it is new.” The -world he had known seemed immeasurably far off to them as they stood -together there. Everything about her touched him. Her true, simple -nature, her strong, pure devotion to her own ideals. - -“You haven’t played for me yet.” - -As he heard the engine blowing off the steam, he knew they were -rounding up; its work was done. - -“No, and you didn’t want to hear me as much as you made out; you -forgot,” she said. - -“I would like to hear you this minute.” - -“Then come with me home.” - -“But look at me: my face--my hands--these boots.” - -Esther looked at him quickly. “You are vain.” Slipping her hand in his, -she gently pulled him a little way. “Oh, come on, what do you suppose I -care about dust. We have soap and water.” - -He let her have her way, and allowed himself to be led. - -The sun hung low in the sky as they started off, and was just dropping -behind the mountains when they reached the house. Faint zones of pink -and pearl flushed up, and everything was quickened--glorified by the -softening light. - -“I’ve got a picture in my scrap book that looks like you.” Esther -stared Glenn Andrews full in the face as she spoke. “It is a picture of -Christ.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -“I LIKE you in those high boots.” Esther put her foot on the tip of one -of them as she spoke. - -“It was not so much vanity, as respect for your grandfather, that made -me want to appear at my best when I met him.” - -“You see, he didn’t notice them. Why should you care, anyhow, if I -liked them.” - -There was a certain charm in her contempt for risks and consequences. A -waiter was brought out clinking with glasses. - -“This will not only prove your welcome, Mr. Andrews, but aid your -digestion as well,” Mr. Campbell said, as he came out of the hall to -join them. - -Andrews filled his glass that yielded fragrance and soft fire. He -touched it to his lips. “This is excellent. Is it some of your own -make?” - -“The grapes came from my vineyard.” - -“I helped to make it--I strained it,” Esther interrupted, “but I never -tasted any in my life.” Mr. Campbell laid his hand on her head. - -“This is to you--to your art.” Glenn Andrews motioned to her, lifted -his glass and sipped the wine, slowly realizing it was beautiful to -every sense. Esther stole into the parlor, and was playing her violin -before they knew it. They followed her in. It was an old-time parlor -with black, carved furniture, a slender legged center table, polished -as smooth as a mirror, holding a china vase of curious design, in which -leaned one long stemmed rose, as red as the wine that had made their -hearts large and soft. The walls were almost hidden by family portraits -that reached from the ceiling to the floor, set in deep tarnished gilt -frames. The carpet had a shred of tracery suggesting a design--it might -have been only a shadow of gorgeous wreaths that had been worn away by -dear feet that had long gone--the whole faint impression still hallowed -by their tread. - -Esther loved her violin irregularly. This was a time when she really -needed it. They went in very quietly, hoping not to interrupt her. The -soft, tremulous tones that she had not meant to give, showed that she -was excited, unnerved. Just as Glenn was about to utter an apology for -the confusion, his face became serious and silent. He was peculiarly -sensitive to the influence of the violin. He was conscious of a dreamy -exaltation, and the awakening of a new enthusiasm. The music had -burst into a wild, passionate tenderness, as though she was daringly -investing all her dreams with life-throbbing human life--the tone fairly -voicing the longing of her soul. - -It was infinitely touching, infinitely tender. A quick flush went up to -his forehead and died out again, as the music trembled into stillness, -and she lowered the violin, exhausted. - -“You must be very proud of her,” Glenn turned to the old man, “I think -she has a future.” - -“She ought to have a chance for it,” said Mr. Campbell. A glance -from Esther’s flushed face to the suddenly compressed lips of her -grandfather made Glenn understand that that was as near to complaint -as he ever came. He might have been impatient in his days of strength, -but on the coming of adversity this proud man had learned to wait in -silence. He seldom breathed a syllable of the sorrow he bore on account -of his hands being tied. - -“Practice is half the battle; you ought to spend hours at it every -day,” Glenn said to Esther as she tossed her head. - -“I don’t ever expect to study under anyone again. What’s the use going -half way when I know I can never go the other half?” - -“But you will if you only have belief in yourself.” - -Mr. Campbell was delighted as he listened. Here was someone interested -in his little girl. He trusted a kindliness so genuine, an interest so -evidently sincere. - -A child’s soul is easily impressed, responsive to the first panorama -that passes before it. Mr. Campbell hoped Glenn Andrews would come -again. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -THE next few weeks for Esther were transitions between content and -longing. The trees of the woodland, that had been her playfellow, now -had a rival. Of Glenn Andrews she had made a hero, a king. She regarded -him as a being to inspire wonder and mystery. - -His simplest word or gesture spoke directly to the heart. - -They took sweet wood rambles together. He had already begun to realize -that all solitary pleasures were selfish. - -He rather looked forward to their meetings, although he did not let her -think they meant much to him. - -“When do you want to see me again?” was usually his parting question. -If she said “to-morrow,” he could not come until the next day, or -later. To her it seemed that he took a pride in finding out when she -most wanted to see him--only to stay away at that particular time. He -held himself aloof--gave her room to expand. Hers was a nature artistic -to a painful degree--a nature nobly expansive. - -But within the limit of the country, amid entirely commonplace people, -her power of artistic perception had been of little value--rather a -burden than a delight. - -One day, after she had urged Glenn Andrews to go with her to where they -would have a pretty view of a mountain waterfall, he had refused, and -she had gone alone. It was a long stroll, but she was thirsting to see -it. She resented his refusal, and so had gone alone. Glenn watched her -out of sight, then went back to his writing. He was doing some of his -strongest and most vigorous work. - -Esther reached the mountain side, and stood a little way back to keep -the spray from wetting her dress. The breath of it was refreshing. She -took a pride in the mighty roar of the falls. - -Its voice sounded so strong, so real. Its commanding majesty held -her. She repeated a name, its echo was drowned. Flowers, ferns, great -rocks, everything in its track was treated to the same reckless -inconsideration. Only the mist rose higher and higher as though it -would regain the height it lost when the waters made the mighty leap, -and dashed its very heart to pieces on the stones below. - -How she gloried in the daring of the mist. It was so light, and thin, -and quiet, but in its very silence there seemed to be strength. - -It was gaining slowly, but she cheered it as she saw it ascending, her -eyes gleaming with excitement as she watched it. “I know you’d like to -slide down the falls.” A hand was laid upon her shoulder. - -“I’d rather go up with the mist,” she answered Glenn Andrews, as -though she was neither surprised nor pleased by his sudden arrival. - -“I got through my work earlier than I expected,” he began. “When they -told me how far it was, I thought it would be too late for you to come -home alone.” - -If he expected her to thank him for the consideration, he was -disappointed. The wind that the falls generated had blown some of the -waves of her hair across her face. She carelessly brushed it back with -her hands. A strand of rebellious hair, that seemed unmanageable, she -pulled out and threw away. - -“Stop that.” Glenn tapped her fingers lightly. “Haven’t I told you not -to do that? It’s a crime to ill use such hair as yours.” - -Esther obeyed him, but could not resist the impulse to say: “You may -look like Christ, but you can act like the devil.” - -She saw him drop his head and walk a few steps away. - -“You might as well have come on with me if you were coming anyhow.” - -He did not look at her. - -“I told you I would come, if you would wait until to-morrow. It was a -poem for you I wanted to finish.” - -Esther went to his side, penitent; the act had lost its sharp outlines -to her. - -“The words that you said someone would set to music for me?” - -“Yes.” - -“Let me see them, won’t you?” - -“Certainly not.” - -“Oh, do; I’m wild to read them.” Her eyes lost their unconcern as she -pleaded. - -“You know I am in earnest when I say that you will not have that -pleasure. What’s the use teasing?” - -He was drumming on a rock with his boot heel, as he leaned against a -shrub. The stream that caught the waterfall laughed and lathered over -its rocks as it flowed beside them. They were of the most delicate -tintings, pale lavenders, green, and pink and blue. Glenn Andrews was -gazing at them. - -“Did you ever see such pretty shades as the rocks of mountain regions -take on? I’ve often wondered what caused their coloring.” - -With an aggrieved air, Esther allowed the drift of interest to turn at -his bidding. - -“I supposed rocks were alike the world over.” - -“That’s because you only know your own beautiful ones; some day you’ll -see the ugly ones; then you needn’t bother to wonder what made them so. -Just kick them out of the way and forget them.” - -“Is that what you do?” - -“Yes, when they are not too big for me.” - -“I don’t like the hurt, when I stump my toe on these pretty ones. It -teaches me to go around all I can. The jagged ones that I meet some day -needn’t think of being disturbed, if I can get around them.” - -“But sometimes they block the road, what then?” - -“I’d get somebody to help me over.” - -“I hope you will have that good luck all your days, Esther.” - -Glenn Andrews’ voice had a minor sweetness. The thought of contrasting -her vagrant childhood with the world she must one day know, was -singularly pathetic to him. - -Stooping, he picked up a rock and cast it across the waters. - -“Yes,” she said; “I was always lucky, that’s how grandpa came to call -me ‘God’s child.’” - -“We’d better go now; it must be a good three mile walk.” Glenn Andrews -took particular care to note her mood as they went along, the wild -charm of her unstudied grace, the vibrating delight of life. How much -happier she was than if she had had her way. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -IT was the next Saturday before Glenn went again to see Esther. Mr. -Campbell entertained him on the verandah. He sat some time, expecting -every minute to see Esther come bounding out. Her grandfather looked so -worn when he came that Glenn felt it a sort of imposition to allow him -to talk long. Although their topic was of deep interest, his shriveled -features seemed to smooth out as Glenn told him how rapidly Esther had -advanced that summer. - -“It is remarkable,” he said, “how she can take a piece and master it -by herself. What she most needs is encouragement; some one to keep her -interested and stimulated.” - -“I had hoped to let her have lessons under the professor at the -University this year. It had been my calculation a long time until she -was taken sick with fever.” The haggard look came back to his face. -“The doctor fears it will go into typhoid.” - -“You don’t mean that Esther is sick now?” Glenn stammered. - -“She took to her bed the same evening she came back from the falls and -hasn’t been up since.” - -“I didn’t know a word of it. I should have been over if I had known. I -should have come at once to see if I could do anything to help either -of you.” - -Glenn’s steady mouth trembled. A tumult of memories crowded upon him. -He thought of the Indian Well, where their lives first came together. -Suppose she had breathed in the germs that day when she tried to -protect him. - -“Let me stay and help you nurse her, Mr. Campbell, you look tired and -need rest. I am so strong and I have no ties to call me away.” - -“You are very kind;” the rest was left unspoken, for a hand was laid -on his arm. Mr. Campbell made his expression excuse his absence as he -turned and followed the negro girl. - -Presently when he came back Glenn got up hastily. - -“Is she worse?” - -“No, she wanted to know if it was not your voice that she heard.” - -“May I see her, if it is not asking too much?” - -His face was full of sorrow as the old man bowed and led the way. “She -wanted to see you.” - -Esther’s eyes were closed; her head lay deep in the pillow, the waves -of her hair flowing back from the whiteness of her face. “Esther,” -he whispered very softly. She opened her eyes and her lips broke in -a smile. He held out both hands toward her and caught hers in their -double grasp, looking down in her face. - -“How are you? I didn’t know until this minute that you were not well. -I came to take you to the one place we’ve never been,” he told her. - -“I thought maybe you had come to help me over the rock.” She smiled -faintly. - -“Well, be very quiet; don’t worry about anything; we’ll do all that -for you. You know you promised to play the piece you learned last week -for me. Let’s see, it was to be at the spring; that was as close as we -dared venture to Indian Well, where we met.” - -“Don’t give me out.” Her voice was weak and low. “I expect to do that -for your farewell; you must get back to college in time.” - -“How do you know but that I had rather be detained; don’t run any -risk.” This seemed to please her. - -“Is this better than the other life--the life among your friends?” - -“This is sweeter, for I am looking forward to a lifetime with the -world.” She smiled and turned her head to rest it from the one position -she had kept too long. - -“It will be a year before the world can get you; I am glad you have -decided to take another degree, although you seem to know enough -already.” - -“I know enough to realize just how little I do know, but the special -course along lines that I am going to make my lifework is all that I -shall try to master yet. Everything has its turns; I’ll learn it all in -time, I hope.” - -“And then you’ll be great.” - -“More likely dead.” - -“Most great people are.” Her lips suddenly quivered. - -“You take it slow. I couldn’t bear to think of your dying.” - -“You are talking too much now. You and your grandpa take a rest. You -both need it.” - -“He must be tired after five nights and days, but you are company. We -can’t both leave you at once.” - -“I’ll play host now; go to sleep. I’ll be with you all the time.” - -“Grandpa, lie down over there on the lounge.” - -When he had humored her she cuddled down contentedly and went to sleep. - -With a ministering tenderness, Glenn kept watch over her. - -Typhoid fever was full of terrors to him. He hoped that her fever was -only due to the cold she had taken at the falls. - -It was very penetrating. He had ached a little afterward and thought it -was from being saturated with the dampness that day. Suppose the fear -in her case was true. All that beautiful hair would have to be shaved -off. He jealously resented this, caressing her hair as he looked at it. -The doctor came later and said her condition was better and that she -would be out in a few days. - -Glenn drew a breath of relief. He would stay during those few days. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -SWINGING her violin case by the handle, Esther started off through the -cornfield, stopping now and again to pull a spray of morning glories -that wreathed around the stalks to the tips of their tassels. By the -time she got in sight of the Curtis house there were many of these -branches trailing over her. It was still early. The heavy dew had -dampened the dust on her shoes. She tried to brush it off with the -leaves she had gathered, then bunching the blossoms of bright color -together she fastened them on her breast. - -Just as she walked up Tagger was seated on the steps of the back -porch, getting Glenn Andrews’ boots in order for him. “Let me have the -brush a minute.” Esther took the brush, leaned over and cleaned the -mud off of her own shoes. Then she took up one of the boots and began -to polish it. A thrill of delight leaped through her at the thought. -She was working for him. When she put it down the boot looked fresher -and glossier than it could ever look under Tagger’s care. There was a -sniffling sound and Esther looked behind her. Tagger stood scouring in -his eyes with his shining fists, his small body quivering with sobs. - -“What’s the matter with you?” - -“You’ll git my money,” he said through his gasps. - -“Well, for heaven’s sake! you little scamp, I don’t want your nickel.” - -“’Tain’t no nickel,” he blurted out. “He gimme a quarter for turnin’ de -cartwheel and standin’ on my head. Dat warn’t work; dat was play.” - -Esther’s voice echoed through the halls. When she stopped laughing, she -said: “You poor little mite, I hope he will give you the half of his -kingdom. Here, take the brush and earn your fortune.” - -As Tagger took up the other boot, to finish it, Esther unclasped the -bunch of morning glories and tied them at the top of the one she had -polished. Seeing nothing of Glenn, and passing a word with Mrs. Curtis -who was busy in the dining room, she went out to the flower garden. -About her in riotous health and beauty grew flowers that gave no -evidence of care. There was a suggestion of wilfulness everywhere. The -sun had not been up long. It was splashing its rays in the face of the -great, slumbering mountains like spray on the face of a sluggard. Glenn -walked up behind Esther as she bent over a white rosebush in the heyday -of its blooming. - -“You did not waste time waiting for me. This is worth seeing. Don’t you -think so?” - -As her face raised to his, how pure and radiant it looked. The purity -was heightened by the flush. - -“Oh, if I could only do to them as I want to.” She stretched her arms -and brought them together with a sigh. “I’d like to hold them close and -love them as hard as I could; then I’d be satisfied.” - -“You’d crush them, break their stems and pay the penalty of indulgence -by pricking those arms of yours by the wretched little briars hidden -under the beauty that you would spoil,” he said, sharply. - -He wanted her to see a lesson in this. - -“That’s the way with life,” he said, watching her break off one of the -buds which she put in his coat. - -“Come on. You have got enough. I must leave by two o’clock.” - -“I’ve been ready longer than you--my violin is on the porch. We can go -by there to get it.” - -At the start Glenn saw that Esther looked very radiant, but suddenly -the look of exaltation faded from her face. He did not understand her -mood. - -Generally she enjoyed what he recalled to her, visible or invisible, -with the most exquisite feeling. He dearly loved that trait in her. -This was not one of her receptive moods. She did not seem to know when -they got to the spring. - -He indulged in an indolent sprawl upon the grass, and she dropped down -on the roots of a tree by his side. He was an ideal lounger. That -was sufficient contentment for awhile. He was trying to think it out -without asking her. - -“What’s the matter?” he said at last. “Have I hurt you--displeased you?” -That passive gentleness of manner was rarely changed. “Won’t you tell -me?” He placed his hand softly over hers that lay on the ground. Her -lashes, delicate in their tinting, beat together, struggling to catch -the tears that tried to overflow. She pulled away her hand and started -to rise. The child’s heart was almost breaking and the rebellious tears -that came, hot and fast, were dashed away by little, mad hands. - -“Oh, Esther, have I hurt you? Don’t, don’t! I’d rather you would strike -me--anything but that.” He sprang to his feet and bent over her. “Are -you disappointed in me. Have you found too many flaws? Is it because I -must go away?” His soft, sad eyes regarded her uneasily. “If I am the -cause, haven’t I a right to know?” - -“You oughtn’t to have to be told,” she said, with shamed frankness, -when she could command her voice. - -“If I had meant to, I wouldn’t; that is my justification.” - -He touched her hair. “Come, this isn’t you--I always liked that -straightforward way of yours. Don’t spoil our last day. Tell me, what’s -the matter?” - -“That’s what stings--you not only thought little enough of them to throw -them away; you forgot it.” - -There was a complaining note in her voice. It was less anger than grief -she felt. Her head had the plaintive droop of a spoiled child asking -consolation. - -“Do you mean the flowers on my boot; is that all?” Slipping one hand in -his pocket and pulling out a few, bruised, draggled morning glories. -An expression of joy flashed over her wet face. A faint, amused gleam -shot into his serious eyes. - -“Tagger used them for a handle, and I thought their condition decided -in favor of pressing rather than wearing. I saved the pieces you see.” - -“They were all the color of my dreams--I couldn’t help but think that -was the way they would go some day.” - -“If I can help it, they won’t.” - -Taking out a notebook he dropped the flowers between its leaves. Her -girlish illusions were dear to him. He wouldn’t destroy one of them. - -“Here, let me get your violin. Play for me, while I smoke.” - -She took it from him, and he began smoking, as she played for him the -piece he had asked her to learn. He could see the confidence she had -gained in herself. Patience was all that she lacked. - -“There is yet another one I want you to learn for me.” - -“What’s the use? I may never see you again. I don’t know that I’ll -worry with it.” - -The thought of his going away met with resentment in her. She did not -like to picture life with his companionship withdrawn. - -“Fiddledee humbug! I expect to see you again lots of times. Maybe I’ll -spend Christmas day with the Curtises. I might come over awhile at that -time if you would ask me. I am not going home just for a day. New York -State is too far.” - -“I couldn’t divide you, I want the whole day or nothing.” Esther leaned -her elbow on the violin case. - -“I remember the first time I was ever offered a piece of a whole thing. -I was a very little girl. I had a china plate that I always used at my -place at table, and one day a boy broke it in halves and mended it. It -had tiny green dots shaped like a fence row around it, and I noticed -one place where the dots didn’t fit, and then I saw where they had -pasted it together. A little chip of it was gone. It nearly broke my -heart. They all said it was as good as new, but they couldn’t make me -see it in that way. What do you suppose I did?” - -“There is no telling.” - -“It had been the pride of my life, but I took that plate out, and broke -it in pieces and strewed them down the road to cut his feet when he -came by from school.” - -“Suppose the feet of others had got the punishment?” - -“I wasn’t old enough to reason that out then.” - -“Some people would have been sore enough and revengeful enough not to -care if they had. I have known such instances, but I can understand -that your plate would never be the same to you with a part of it gone. -I don’t like anything incomplete myself.” - -“Give me the whole day--I want you all the time.” - -“If you will promise me to learn every piece of music that I ask you -to, I will.” - -“You haven’t told the Curtises yet that you were coming?” - -“No.” - -“Well,” her voice was merry, “that’s a bargain.” - -Glenn Andrews looked at his watch. - -“Great Scott! ten minutes to two. I must go.” - -They stood for a moment hand in hand. Not a sound could be heard save -the water lisping in the spring. He touched her hair. “Beautiful hair!” -he half whispered. “If it had been cut off, when you came so near -having the fever, I should have asked you to give me a curl.” - -His veins throbbed with tenderness--between these two there was a -tie nearer than blood--the tie of comradeship. One couldn’t think of -relations more subtle or pure. - -“Give me your knife,” she said. - -Glenn raised her face, touching her chin gently with the tips of his -fingers. - -“No, no,” he said. “It is much prettier where it is. I wouldn’t let you -cut one off.” - -She turned and closed her violin case with a snap. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -WHEN he had gone, Esther went back to the woods. The thought of his -coming with the Christmas time kept her nature alive and glowing. Her -interest in music became more absorbing than ever. She practiced for -hours at a stretch. This exceptional interest was a triumph that had -given the old grandfather a steadier balance of mind, when during these -years he had tried to fill her mother’s place, nurturing, encouraging -the possibilities that lay in this young soul, ennobling, inspiring a -deeper meaning to life. Glenn Andrews had helped him. He appreciated -that. They saw him occasionally when they went in to her lessons. -Esther seemed to realize that Mr. Campbell was making a sacrifice for -her sake and every week the professor could see the forward step she -had made. - -The college monthly came to her regularly now. It always had poems or -stories by Glenn Andrews. All these she preserved. There was a sort of -reverence in her care of them. They were a part of him--his creations. -In the satisfaction derived from them, she became more impatient as to -her own imperfections. The ripe, rich beauty of autumn trailed by in -all its glory without the love it once had from her. Her walks became -less frequent. She felt a relief when the snow first fell. Snow always -suggested Christmas. She kept such close watch that the calendar was -not needed to tell her when it was near. In the innocence of her heart, -she pictured Glenn Andrews watching the hours go by with the same -impetuous eagerness--he who had gone back to his old solitary life, as -though nothing had dropped in for a moment to change it. - -It was Christmas. A light snow lay over the valley. - -Esther wrapped a hood close about her head and walked back and forth on -the verandah. A low wind among the white boughs made a lullaby for her -longing. - -The nearer the realization, the more impatient she grew. - -At last the sound of wheels, and the brisk stepping of horses charmed -her heart--he was coming. She heard the sound of his voice as there was -a halt at the gate. - -“Oh, it’s you, is it, Mr. Glenn?” - -“Who else did you expect?” asked Glenn Andrews, stretching out his hand -cordially to greet her, enjoying the dignity she tried to assume. He -had speculated as to how she would meet him. - -The fire roaring up the wide chimney was sweeter than music to him. It -had been a cold ride. They were so glad to see him, Glenn thought it -was the next best thing to going home. - -“Get up close and warm yourself.” Esther shivered at the thought of his -being cold. - -“Let me have your coat, Mr. Glenn.” - -“No, it’s too heavy; I’ll lay it over here.” Folding it he threw it -across a divan and drew his chair up to the fire. - -Esther leaned on the edge of the mantle, looking at him. The wind had -blown in her hair, it lashed about her face, and with the old careless -gesture she tossed it back, impatiently. - -“Have you been pulling that hair out again?” said Glenn, with a sort of -proprietary right. - -“No, but I’ve been cutting it off.” - -“You haven’t!” These words held the heat of indignation. - -“If you don’t believe it, I’ll prove it.” - -She stepped over to him as she drew something from her belt and pressed -it in his hand. - -“You know Christmas never came to you from me before.” Just at that -minute Mr. Campbell came in. He settled himself in his own rocking -chair with a sigh of relief, as though he were hypnotized by the warmth -of the room. He talked on and on, selecting topics upon which neither -seemed to have an idea. Esther had made her a lot of pillows out of -some old silk dresses of quaint patterns, and as she sat amongst them, -she was almost afraid to breathe lest she split them. They smelled very -strongly of tobacco, having been so long packed away in its leaves. - -Glenn Andrews felt something soft and slim between his fingers, but -it puzzled him to know what the texture was. He was restless with -curiosity. - -Esther enjoyed his perplexity with quiet amusement, and was sorry when -after a great while her grandfather thought out for himself that young -folks enjoyed themselves better alone. - -Glenn turned slyly to see him close the door after him. - -It was very interesting, this expectancy; he felt something as he did -when a child he had lain awake all night waiting for Santa Claus to -come. - -His heart would leap with impatience at every sound. The old chimney, -drawing its heated breath to keep his little body warm, had added to -his irritation. It seemed to him that the wind could cut more antics -then than a circus pony cavorting for his feed. - -In its sound he constantly fancied he could hear the coming of that -old false ideal that had been the first to fall, but it had not fallen -until many a little prayer had been answered and many a young dream -been realized. Such ideals leave their imprint upon the mind. The -memory of the joy it gave softens and purifies the heart before it -awakens. - -Glenn Andrews leaned over and opened his hand to the light; it was a -watch chain, made of Esther’s hair. - -“That slide was on a chain my mother wore,” she said. - -The sentiment of it made him feel that he stood at the white sanctity -of her soul with its opening and unfathomable depths. - -He raised the chain to his lips and kissed it affectionately. He could -not have thanked her in words. He realized that: - -“Sentiment that is real is not acquired--it flows into the veins like -the breath of the sea waves, completely freshening every sense with its -presence.” - -Glenn took up his overcoat and brought out a music roll with her name -mounted in silver. - -“It is full and you are to learn it all. That’s the agreement.” He laid -it open before her. - -“The very hardest that you could find.” - -“Just what you need.” - -Esther hummed a bar here and there as she turned the pages. She was in -an ecstasy of content. A lilting joyousness of Glenn Andrews’ presence -was in everything she did and said. - -They lingered over the Christmas dinner. Mr. Campbell told yarns of the -olden times when he was a boy on that holiday. He took his pleasure in -their company at the table, and afterwards left them alone again. - -They made an exceptionably cozy picture, sitting together in front of -the wood fire. It was beautiful to see the snow outside, falling in -tiny siftings, displaced by the snow birds’ restless stirring. - -Glenn and Esther were so comfortable. How could it be winter out there. -He smoked and she read him selections from his own poems--the ones she -liked best. He had no idea she could read so well--it must have been her -reading them that made them sound better than he had ever thought them -before. There was a slow unfolding of her woman nature as he watched -her. It was almost imperceptible, yet so much surer than a sudden burst. - -“You’ll keep on with your lessons?” he asked. - -“After this year grandpa won’t be able to afford it.” - -“But it will never do for you to stop now. I was talking with the -professor the other day about your art. He is interested in it. He -wants to study English; maybe he would exchange--if you could teach him. -Do you think you could?” - -“What! I a teacher?” She clasped her hands involuntarily. “But suppose -he’d let me try?” - -“I’ll see if he will.” - -“Oh, will you, sure enough?” She was now seated closer by Glenn, -listening with an absorbing interest. - -“When will I know?” - -“There is a lot of time between now and next September. You’ll finish -out this year, of course.” - -“Oh, yes, except when the weather is too bad for grandpa. He’s getting -old, you know.” - -Glenn could see how he was failing. - -It was about dusk when the buggy drove away from the front steps. The -parting was cordial and yet it seemed to lack something for both. -Perhaps grandpa’s being there complicated the situation. Whatever it -was, in both their hearts there seemed something lacking. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -THE coming of June brought an end to college life for Glenn Andrews. He -had had a letter a few days before, deciding an important question--in -fact, the question of the greatest importance to him just then. While -he was waiting for Esther he read it over again: - - “New York City. - - “My dear Andrews--Of course I hadn’t forgotten my promise nor my - interest in you. It seems a lifetime since I stood in those priestly - looking robes on that old stage waiting to receive my discharge and - hustle or go hungry. You were at the foot then. I remember you; a - solemn-faced chap, but mightily in earnest. I am glad that you are - at the head, and ready for the fight--the thick of it. I always knew - that was the kind of metal you were made of, so it does me good to - be able to give you a boost. You are to be associate editor of the - magazine--give up most of your freedom and take an editor’s chair. - - “You may come right on. I wonder what you will be like after all these - years since we cavorted over that campus. Yours fraternally, - - “Richmond Briarley.” - -What did Glenn care for slavery? His love for his profession would -even up scores. Going among strangers had no depressing effect upon -him. He was singularly fitted for that kind of thing. He believed that -every soul should be alone a part of its existence, away from the -sight, the touch of affection, and seek deeper self acquaintance and -understanding. This was how he came to cultivate his passion to know -and be something. - -Now he was going to try his hand--his life was to be full of interest -and effort, and all the training he had given to his faculties were to -be exercised and tested. Esther joined him presently to go for their -last ramble. - -“You are to lead the way anywhere. I am with you to-day,” he said. - -Glenn felt a subtle sadness at leaving her. This human study had been -most interesting to him, nor would it be the least of his regrets for -what must be given up. The others were finished, he had reached the -last page. - -During the stroll, Glenn told her that the professor had agreed to make -the exchange he spoke of at Christmas. - -“Now you are to promise me that you will keep up your art. Don’t let -circumstances overwhelm you.” - -“I couldn’t keep from trying to go on, if I wanted to, but when you get -away you’ll forget about me.” - -“I don’t think I shall.” - -He was very calm. No matter what he thought or felt, he didn’t intend -to drop a word that might disquiet her mind or disturb their tranquil -sense of comradeship. - -“I expect you to do something some day. You’ll not stay buried down -here all your life. You were not born for oblivion.” - -“I am afraid you will be disappointed in me. But I’ll do my best.” - -She looked down, pulling at the moss on the log. - -His going so far away was her first great sorrow. - -“I don’t believe I would though if I didn’t have next summer to look -forward to; you said you would try to come back then.” - -With her simplicity and daring directness she added. “Take good care of -yourself, Mr. Glenn, for all the world couldn’t fill your place in my -heart.” - -“You think that now, Esther. You seem to see something complete in our -friendship. It is all you want. A day will come when you’ll understand -that it is not satisfying. The mist of morning is on the hills, and -hides the outlines of the landscape; you can see but a little way. -After awhile it will gradually lift, and give you a clearer and broader -view.” - -She shook her head. - -“I know you can’t see it now. The ripening of your nature will show you -the good fruit, and of how little use it was to cry over the pretty -petals when it dropped its bloom.” - -She looked at him, her lips parting as she slowly grasped the drift of -his words. - -“Patience and faith are what you must have.” - -“The patience I would have to borrow, or steal, for I never did have -any of my own.” - -It was going to be the hardest lesson for her to learn. - -She took the knife he was toying with, and asked suddenly: - -“Put your foot up a minute.” - -He was wondering what she would do. - -“I’m going to leave something for you to remember me by.” - -She began carefully to etch a sentence across the upper part of the -leather. - -“Bear harder, cut it--that little scratching won’t last--as long as you -are putting it there.” - -His eyes rested on her hair, that lay like a crown on her bowed head. - -Slowly she cut each letter. “Don’t look until I get through.” - -The fine, sharp blade was doing its work well; there was just one more -word. She made a slip and the keen point plunged through. “Oh, did that -touch you?” Suddenly withdrawing it she saw the blood leap out and run -down his boot leg. Her eyes opened wide; the despair in them was enough -to move him. - -“Oh, Mr. Glenn, what have I done to you?” - -“It’s only a pin scratch; don’t think of it.” He tried to console and -reassure her. - -She began unwinding the soft mull tie she wore. “I know you’ll bleed to -death if we can’t stop it.” - -He had taken his boot off. With tender, trembling fingers she was -binding the cloth to his leg, winding it around again and again, trying -to wrap out the sight of the blood. - -It was no use, in a second the red stain would radiate over the white -surface. - -“What shall I do! oh, forgive me, forgive me!” - -She knelt down and pressed his knee in her arms and bent over it -with tears, the incense of her love mingling with self-reproach. Her -penitence was pathetic. - -He regarded her grief with compassionate softness. This came near -disarming his resolve. He wanted to take her in his arms as he had -never done in his life. As she held the wound close, he resisted the -impulse to flinch. - -“I’m all right, don’t you worry.” - -He read the line on the boot. - -“I wouldn’t take anything for that. It will sweeten the absence, and -I hope this scratch will make a scar that I may wear all my life to -remember you by.” - -“I’ll never forgive myself for it--never!” - -“Don’t say that. It’s a little thing after all. See, I walk all right. -Let’s go home.” Putting one hand on her shoulder they started off, -Esther watching every step he took with fear and alarm. - -“Are you telling the truth. Don’t it hurt you to walk?” - -Turning his face away, he bit his lips. - -“Not much, you know there is always a little soreness, no matter how -slight the cut.” - -He wouldn’t tell that the knee was a very dangerous place to receive a -wound. - -All the way the joint was stiffening and getting more painful. His face -beamed in the effort to conceal his suffering. When they reached the -steps he leaned his head against a column; he was wearied and felt that -he could bear no more. - -“Come, lie down; I’ll fix the bed for you and find grandpa,” she urged. - -“No, come back; I’ll sit here on the step awhile. I must be going -soon.” - -Dear little heart, he would never while he lived forget her. - -“How can you go, hurt as you are?” - -“Sit down here by me, I have but a few minutes with you. I ordered my -horse for five o’clock.” - -Without further resistance she took the seat. She had not forgotten -that his will was the only one she ever met stronger than her own. - -“Forgive me?” looking up to him, she asked. - -“Don’t use that word between us.” He gathered her hands in his own, -partly for fear she might touch his knee. Soon his horse came around. - -“Poor cripple,” Esther said with a caressing accent, stretching her -hand toward his knee, as he mounted. Then she pressed her hands hard -against her eyelids as he said good-bye. When she looked up again he -was gone. She stood sighing as if her soul would leave her body, as he -rode on at a gallop, outlined against the far blue of the hills. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -THE first shock of Glenn Andrews’ absence was a bitter trial to Esther, -who grieved unreasoningly. His going seemed like the end of the world. -It was over, those rare, dear days of smiles and tears, of trifling -quarrels and sweet reconciliations. She wondered how she had ever -thought the sky was so blue, the grass so green. - -Through all of her desolation, however, ran the thought that he wished -nothing so much as for her to advance in her art. - -Would she let the first rock block her way? Youth can forget its grief. -She was so unconsciously true to him, that before she scarcely realized -it, she was back at work, harder than ever. She began teaching the -kind old German musician English to pay for her instructions. - -Heart, brain and soul she gave to her art, not all for its sake nor -hers, but for the man that was the world’s best type to her. - -The devotion with which she had worshipped him was for the time -transferred to the violin that became the absorbing and crowning -ambition of her life. - -Glenn had been gone nearly a year. The summer, instead of bringing him, -brought a disappointment. - -He wrote her: - - “Fate or Providence has put in its oar to the exclusion of my own - interesting plans. I didn’t dare really hope that I should see you - this summer, even while I planned the trip. Providence would never - be so kind as that. I am ordered to Athens to do some special work - for our magazine. They have been unearthing some more wonderful - curiosities there. This is the last note I write before going abroad, - for I sail early to-morrow morning. How much easier it is to learn - things than to unlearn them. I used to think differently at college. - Very many times, more than I will admit to myself, I have closed my - eyes and tried to imagine that I should open them upon yours, gazing - disapprovingly at my ‘steenth’ cocktail. Many times I have been glad - when I opened them that it was not so--at others I have been a little - sorry. There is a deliciousness about your not being with me which is - quite a new sensation. I shall never again pity the old Flagellants. - I know now that there was a certain ecstasy of pleasure for them - which we have taken too little account of. There is a pleasure in - not writing to you, too; I am writing now because I know if I don’t - I shall not hear again from you, and I confess that I don’t want my - flagellation to take that shape. You were growing when I left you. - Have you stopped? Don’t stop thinking--don’t stop striving--don’t stop - hoping. You have no lack of imagination, inspiration, but you need - the cold, cruel leaven of fact. Your symphony needs less harp and - more violin. The Jews are clinging to their old ideals. The Gentiles - crucified it, and have a living gospel. Let them die if they won’t - live without nursing. You don’t want them. (I mean the ideals--not the - Jews this time--metaphors always proved too much for me.) And finally - don’t preach to others as I am doing to you. It’s a bad habit and - never does any good. But remember that there are a few misguided and - dreamy creatures who think you may do something one of these days if - you ever get your eyes rubbed open wide enough. - - “GLENN ANDREWS” - -For the next year his habitual haunts would know him no more. He would -combine with his trip a while in Paris. Casting aside all obligation -he entered into the spirit of the life about him. Paris, with all its -dangers, all its charms, the extraordinary influence of that congenial -life, touched him with a glowing heat of inspiration. He revelled in -his hopes--in his dreams. Here he would write something worthy of him. -His nature was rich in the vivid impressions, intense feelings and fine -thoughts which make life full of real meaning and significance. Here he -saw many sides of it--much of it was meaningless and distasteful, and -repelled all of his finer senses, but “it is in experience that one -sees all that is most vile and all that is most beautiful.” This was an -excellent opportunity. All the while he was maturing--beginning to have -a more tolerant knowledge of his fellow man. His heart was kindlier--the -weight of his judgment lighter. - -Half the world away, Esther was sorrowing for him--the memory of the -disappointment he had caused touched deep fibres in her that ached -and ached and ached. Besides this, she could see her old grandfather -growing feebler with the setting of every sun. His small stock of -vitality was slipping away. - -He knew that the stalk was withered, and soon must fall, yet he tried -to face the truth in smiling silence. Sometimes--when he thought of the -hands that had so longed to have control of his child--the anguish in -him overflowed. They would soon have her in their grasp. - - - - -THE GIRL. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -MR. CAMPBELL did not live through the winter. - -Esther was left to the care of his nephew, living in a remote part of -the valley. - -One morning, when she had rocked one of the children to sleep, she -sat with it in her arms, gazing out on the gloomy day with sad, set -eyes. For the time being she lost all memory of the scene about her. -The laughter of the children, the woman leaning over the bed, cutting -small garments out of coarse cloth. She began to remember all that her -grandfather had meant to her. She recalled his tenderness, the strong -fortress of his great love built between the world and her. It had -crumbled so slowly that she didn’t comprehend that it could ever wear -quite away, until it had crumbled to the ground. True he was dead, but -he had made a defense for her even beyond the gulf. Though stinted in -many things, he had always held to his life insurance. The farm was -worn out--the house old--it would bring little, but the two together -would help her to maintain her independence until she could master -her art. He did not know the years or the money that it required--he -only felt that through the medium of her art she might hold some of -the dignity of position to which she was entitled by right of birth. -Knowing this, Esther yearned with her heart and soul to go forward. -His lofty, beautiful character shone out before her mind without a -flaw. The thought of again taking up the task alone was sweetened and -ennobled by that memory. - -The woman glanced at Esther as she laid aside one pattern, put -the pins in her mouth until she could place another. She was a -saffron-faced, stoop-shouldered woman--one who prided herself on -the drudgery she could do, who welcomed, rather than flinched from -hardships. - -“What are you studyin’ about now?” - -Esther shuddered as she recalled the present. - -“You ain’t thinking about startin’ up that fiddlin’ again, are you?” -the other stopped short to ask. A shadow crossed the girl’s face. - -“Jenny told me you had got it into your head to take lessons again from -that old Dutchman at the college.” - -“I have been thinking about it,” Esther answered calmly. - -“Goodness knows I wouldn’t! I always thought the fiddle warn’t for -anybody but men and niggers.” Her high-pitched voice was piercing. -“Georgy got a juice harp somewhere, and I took it away from him and -burnt the fetched thing up. I have always heard: ‘Let your children -learn music if you want ’em to be no ’count.’” She stopped to get -her breath. “Your cousin John thinks it’s an outrage--the idea of -your taking lessons again. He knows nothing t’all about the man--but -foreigners are a bad lot.” - -“Did cousin John tell you that he opposed the idea?” Esther interrupted -her to ask. - -“He didn’t seem to take to it, any more than your trapsin’ over the -woods by your lone self.” - -“Did he tell you he thought that was wrong?” - -“Well, not in so many words, but I can tell when a thing goes against -the grain with him. He don’t like to hurt you. I tell him he thinks -more of your feelings than your character. I just took it upon myself -to tell you for your own good.” - -The woman’s speech was harsh and to the point. She continued abruptly: - -“You might do your own washin’ and ironin’ too, instead of hirin’ it -all the time. You couldn’t do up a pocket-handkerchief.” - -Esther got up, and laid the baby in the crib; her arms ached so. - -“If you knew how to do anything you might help me with all this -sewin’.” She laid one knotty hand on a heap of it piled beside her. - -“I don’t know how, but I will hire that part of it done, which you -think I should do,” she said gently, looking straight at the woman. - -“When cousin John wouldn’t take any money for my board, I asked him to -let me work for the worth of it. I didn’t ask him to make it easy for -me. He has a big family. I wanted to earn my way.” - -“He does think you try to earn it,” she admitted generously, “but I -think it’s mighty easy for you myself. You ought to be very thankful. -Look at the time you have--the whole blessed evenin’. You have -nothin’ but to help Jenny with the children, and the cookin’ and the -milkin’--what’s three cows to milk? I have seen the day, before the -family was so big, when I could do all the work on the place and not -half try.” - -Esther made a brave effort to control the strong spirit within her. -From the start the other had persisted in misinterpreting her emotions, -misunderstanding her ambitions. She kept guard of herself, for this was -her cousin’s wife. - -“When do you get the mail out here?” Esther tried to change the subject. - -“When do we get the mail?” she repeated with intense disgust. - -“Every time we send to mill, that’s four or five times a year too -often, to get those papers that John will take; readin’ those vile -things is the ruination of the country. I keep ’em from the children -the same as if they were scorpions. As for letters, we don’t get many. -Most people we care about live closer to us than the post office. You -lookin’ for any?” - -“I’d like to get one.” - -“From that college man? I reckon he’s forgot you are in existence.” - -“I shouldn’t wonder,” Esther said, with an indifferent show of pride. - -“He was curious looking to me; the way he wore his hair was abominable.” - -“He’s my friend. I’d rather not talk of him.” - -“That’s no reason he’s too good to be talked about.” - -“As you please.” Reaching for her hat Esther started toward the door. - -“You’d better let ’lone fightin’ for him and learn some common sense. -You’d never get married if men knew how little account you was. When -I was your age I’d been married three years,” she said, proudly. “If -you don’t want to be an old maid you’d better settle down and marry.” -Esther closed the door as she uttered the last word. - -“Marry? What? A plowboy, a pedler, or a washing machine agent?” That -would have been her cousin’s wife’s idea. - -She wondered as she said this to herself what had become of all those -people we hear of who “married and lived happily ever afterward.” A sob -caught in her throat, and she almost ran until she was out of sight -and sound of the woman’s voice. - -Esther Powel at eighteen, and in her young, fresh beauty--this was the -offering she would immolate on the altar of her limitations. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -INSTEAD of resorting to the woods, her old friend, Esther made her way -down to the plum thicket. The honey bees were humming to the heart of -the blossoms. - -Throwing herself full length upon the ground, she lay in a white drift -of them. An hour or more was given to heartrending sobs of utter grief -and abandonment of everything in the whole world. - -The pathos of her starved, unsympathetic existence, living in isolation -among people as heavy as wet clay. All the sentiment, thought, passion, -of her being had no outlet--none of the cravings of her youth had been -satisfied. - -Between her and Glenn Andrews the silence had been unbroken for almost -a year. - -As she lay there looking up, with her arms folded under her head, -her heart almost bursting with a sense of her own helplessness, she -pictured herself accepting the knowledge that she would never see -him again. All the unhealthy fancies born of loneliness and sorrow -possessed her. The day was gray. The steel rim of the sky seemed to fit -the woods. She watched it with a stifling sensation. It looked as if it -would soon bend the trees double and close in, shutting down upon the -narrow space in which she lived. - -She remembered to have seen her grandfather turn an old, worn pan of -granite down upon his early tomato slips. He did this to keep out -the light, until they could get strength enough to stand the hardier -growth--he did it to force them. The consistence of nature’s laws she -did not understand. - -She only knew that to-day for her was very lonely, narrow and dark, -and to-morrow would be another to-day when it came. - -She went back to the house with a dull expression of hopelessness in -her eyes. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -SO the days passed--the cold, wretched days. Esther was sewing -diligently, making both sleeves for one arm, blundering on everything -she undertook, until it exhausted her teacher’s patience. For some time -she was less a help than a hindrance--yet she was sewing. - -One evening she dropped her work and went out to meet her cousin John. -She often met him when he came home. This time she was unusually -anxious. He had been to mill. - -“Well, you are back; we’ve missed you,” she said. - -Mixed with her love for him was a big proportion of pity. He had such a -hard, stupid kind of life and had never been appreciated. - -“Hello, youngster!” he greeted her, with his stout, strident voice. -“What’ll you give me for a letter--a two-pounder?” - -“It depends on where it’s from.” - -“Paris, France.” - -“No? Really?” - -Holding a package just above her head, he read: “Mademoiselle Esther -Powel, Etats Unis d’Amerique. He’s sending back all your old letters. -This looks as if it might hold a dozen or two.” - -“They are not mine,” she cried, as, laughing, she leaped and snatched -it from his hand. - -“Glenn Andrews,” she repeated, breathlessly, holding the writing before -her eyes. Without a word she stole away, to read it alone. He loved -her, this cousin of hers, this practical, unimaginative man, but he -had never understood her. Her ideas were not his ideas, nor her hopes -his hopes, but he was proud of her in an uncomprehending manner and he -smiled at her aspirations as at his boy baby’s ambition to drive the -mules. A thrill crept down to her heart. It was a book exquisitely -bound, bearing Glenn Andrew’s name. She fondled its pages, ran her hand -lovingly over their smooth surface. The book opened to a folded paper, -on which were some notes jotted down for the violin, an accompaniment -to a song that he had written. - -Turning the leaves, she came to a card; a line on the back of it read: -“You can learn this. Let me hear at New York address after April.” It -was dropped by a poem, “My Little Love of Long Ago.” - -This girl, gifted with all the subtlety of rare natures, understood. -Her face quivered with tenderness as she gazed at it. The world was -full of light--somebody in it took an interest in her. This had fallen -like some faint, soft fragrance in her life. Between laughter and tears -she read the poem: - - “My little love of long ago, - (How swiftly fly the tired years!) - She told me solemnly and low - Of all her hopes and all her fears. - She feared the dangers of the way, - The striving and the work-a-day - That waited far across the sea-- - The loneliness of missing me. - She never doubted me--ah, no! - My little love of long ago. - - “For she had faith in everything, - (How swiftly fly the tired hours!) - A heart that could not help but sing, - And blossomed out amid the flowers. - My loving was its best refrain, - My leaving was its saddest rain. - She sobbed it all upon my knee-- - The loneliness of missing me. - I kissed and comforted her so-- - My little love of long ago. - - “My little love of long ago, - (How swiftly fly the tired days!) - Such little feet to stumble slow - Along the darkest of life’s ways, - While time and distance and the sea, - Or my poor, careless heart, maybe, - Could not have told from spring to spring, - Why we so long went wandering! - Saddest of all is not to know! - My little love of long ago.” - -Esther was radiant with joy. She sped over the ground like a wild young -deer, running to the house for her long-forsaken violin. She carried -it to the back of the orchard. She propped the music up in the low fork -of an apple tree, and wrestled with the opening bars. It was written in -a minor key and was the most difficult accompaniment she had ever seen. -Over and over again she tried to bring out the plaintive harmony that -was there. She had to give it up at last--it was beyond her reach--it -challenged her. This caused her flickering ambition to flash up anew. - -A new resolve glowed in her eyes. To be thwarted in a thing was -touching upon an acutely sensitive nerve. She would not rest until she -had beaten down every obstacle between her and her hope of attainment. -She would free herself of these maddeningly narrow surroundings. - -Glenn Andrews immediately answered her letter, found upon his arrival -in New York. He said: - - “You have lived among the flowers, had great grief, and now the - flowers do not console you. And yet, if you only knew it, nature - is a thousand times better at consolation than human beings. I long - ago gave up looking for consolation from people--I can get it from - flowers. Maybe it is because I don’t live among them. In lieu of - flowers, I take work, and the grind I go through takes the edge off - griefs, joys and ambitions. It reduces one to the dead level of - passiveness, which is not ecstatic, but which does not hurt. So I - might say to you: ‘If the flowers do not console you, try work’--but, - doubtless, you have been working. I know that you are capable of it. - Perhaps time has worn off the brunt of your sorrow and you are feeling - the after pain of loneliness--which is even worse to bear, because - less vivid and more constant. - - “You ought to do something some day with your art. If you only know - it, you are not unfortunately situated as regards your future. Try - and look at it that way. Lift up your head and throw your shoulders - back. Go and look in the looking-glass and make a face at yourself, - and remember you are not an editor, that your nose is not on the - grind-stone and that you have, after all, something to thank God for.” - -Esther had been faithful to the impulse of that day. She slaved with -a resolution painful to see. In that year she had changed, developed -greatly. The kindly old professor regarded her with pride as he sat -listening to her, after she had conquered the music Glenn Andrews had -sent to her. There was a sweep of magnificence in it. - -At the last of the year there came a change. The old professor was -leaving for a broader field. He encouraged her to make an effort for -the highest mark; her next step, in his opinion, should be New York. -Of course, it would take self-sacrifice, he told her; “but what is -sacrifice when one is at the center of the world?” - -New York, which she had feared, and which had always seemed to her so -great and so far. New York that now stood for all the hope in her -life. After the professor had gone she began turning his advice over -in her mind. She could go no further here. She might there. But the -struggle to keep up the pace in New York while she was doing it, would -probably throttle all the ambition and freshness she had as capital to -begin with. She thought of people she loved who had gone. She could not -turn out ill after all their care. She might accomplish something in -spite of the difficulties. Lots of people had. Her impulse was to dare -until, under the heat of its spell, she wrote a line to Glenn Andrews. - -“What do you think of New York for me?” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -“WHAT do I think of New York for you?” Glenn Andrews replied, “frankly -I don’t know. You forget that the one thing necessary to answer your -question is the one thing I don’t possess. That is to say, I don’t -know you as time has made you. What I would have said years ago to the -slip of a girl, I cannot say to the growing woman. You and your art -are the deciding quantities. Have you bodily strength, or only nerve -fibre? Have you real genius, or only mediocrity? Genius, which lives -by self-understanding, can forgive this blunt questioning. New York -takes strength. It is a great monster which grips you by the throat and -shakes you as a dog does a squirrel. The process shakes the life out -of its body and leaves it broken and dead, or else it twists its neck, -bites strong and deep, and is allowed to go. You must draw blood to -make the monster of city life quit--the rich, warm blood of enthusiasm -and applause. And I doubt whether your teeth are strong enough. - -“Success means hard work--long, bitter days and nights of it--drab -days of monotony, black nights of disappointment. It means toil and -tears. This is a maelstrom, and only the biggest branches float on the -surface. The little twigs are sucked down. And it is a place of giant -timber. The oak from the country hillside is only a scrub here. You -must remember this. The bigness of it all makes for heartlessness. When -one meets a beggar on every corner, one soon ceases to feel sorry; and -where failures are so common, there is seldom a helping hand or even a -sigh of sympathy. Only the warmest fire can go on burning brightly with -the ice falling so thick around it. - -“So much for you yourself, and your own view of yourself. As to your -ability, I mean. Your circumstances I do not know. New York takes -money. In comparison with your own home, it takes a great deal. To -succeed in it requires time--years; and unless you can afford to stay it -through, you would better save yourself the discouragement of failure, -for there is no bitterer failure than that which we feel to be purely -circumstantial. - -“I pass over the question of the evil of New York. Evil comes from -inside of us--it is not absorbed. If we are pure, it does not touch us; -it goes by. I believe it would go by you. There are no temptations in -New York any more than there are at home, for those who do not want to -be tempted. You are, no doubt, a far better judge of this matter than -your minister--I am heterodox enough for that. - -“There is another side. No one knows genius so well as itself. If you -have it, New York is the place for you. The greater the body, the -greater the attraction for the great centre. I would not counsel you -to disregard its force, for I believe only true motives move you. And -if you know yourself and believe in yourself, you will find a way to -beat down other difficulties. There are ways of living in New York -cheaply. You might essay the purgatorial round of music lessons; your -violin might earn its own halo--who knows? - -“I take it you would come alone. There are places where young women, -unattended, are made welcome and cared for; and there are places where -earnest workers congregate where there are ordinary comforts at low -rates--these, if you should decide to try the venture, you must let me -tell you of. I should be glad indeed if what knowledge I have of the -city might be of some service to you. - -“In closing this letter, I feel that, after all, I have told you -nothing. You have, no doubt, considered the question in all its -bearings. Such a step is a serious one--far too much so for me to -intrude upon it. Be true to yourself--to your ideas, your judgment, -and your reason. If you do this, you will be true to your art. Do not -hesitate to write me if I can help you, but you must not ask me to -advise you as to coming. ‘What do I think of New York for you?’ I don’t -know! - - “Glenn Andrews.” - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -HERE was a man who had lost the romance of life. Not a shred of -sentiment was left. - -Richmond Briarley strode about his den, pulling his smoking jacket from -a pair of vicious-looking antlers above the door, his slippers from the -wings of Cupid poised above the glorious Psyche. - -There was a princely abandon in the luxurious den he called “home.” -Looking about it, one would conceive him to be a man quite beyond -the ordinary--if the trophies, pictures, statuary, bespoke his -individuality. - -“Don’t wait for me, Andrews, go ahead,” he called out from an alcove. - -If his heart was not open to his friends, his finest wines were, and -the one is often mistaken for the other. - -Richmond Briarley had ample, irregular features, hair and eyes the -blackest black, and an olive gray complexion. There was something -stoic in the closing of his lips, set around with circular wrinkles, -revealing the traits peculiar to his type. He hadn’t the least regard -for the past, nor fault to find with the future. - -Coming out, he poured a glass of wine and drank with Glenn Andrews. - -“Have a smoke,” glancing towards a tabourette, strewn with pipes, some -of them disreputable enough to the eye. - -“Take any of them, you won’t be smoking any old, dry, dead -memories--these are all ‘bought’ ones.” - -“I’ll help myself. I was just reading my mail. The boy handed it to me -as I was leaving the office.” - -Folding a sheet of paper on which was written only a name and address, -he took up one of the pipes and began filling it. - -So Esther Powel was in town. It was a daring entrance upon life for -this little hard-headed, soft-hearted Southerner. He looked thoughtful; -the soberness of his youth, rather than the labor of his manhood, had -lightly marked his face. A sudden apprehension seized him for the pure, -sweet life he knew so well. It was almost as much as her life was worth -to come here so pretty and so friendless. She needed protection. - -This thought took possession of his mind to the exclusion of all else. -In the old days he had been the only one who could bend her wayward -will. Her faith in him was the blind unquestioning faith of a child. -Her own feeling for him she did not reason with. She accepted it as a -fact which was beyond her analysis. Under its spell she had grown and -flourished against great odds. Why should she not continue to do so? - -“Briarley,” Glenn went on, filling his pipe, and packing it down with -his thumb. “Suppose you knew a girl who was coming here alone, to study -art, what would you consider the very best way to shield her?” - -“By keeping away from her.” - -“But, suppose she needed some one to look to--suppose she were young and -knew no one. City life is a fiercely hardening process, you know.” - -“I’d get some woman friend to show her all there was to see, and that -might cure her. So-called sin charms because it’s unknown.” - -“Don’t you think a girl’s love, if not unappreciated, is a shield and -an inspiration?” - -Briarley shook his head. - -“Oh! of course, I forgot. You don’t believe in love.” - -“I do, as much as I believe in any other hell.” - -Andrews was silent. - -“Have your fun out, then we’ll be serious.” - -Their views were directly opposite, yet the enthusiasm of each made -ground for respect, if not agreement. - -“While you now admit such a phantasy, Andrews, you get the credit of -living by the head. It is generally understood that you never let -scruples of the heart stand in the way.” - -“I am not a woman; besides, it is a matter of self-denial, and not -unbelief. My love is my profession--long ago I made my choice between -woman and art--if I had chosen woman that love would have ruled my life. -I have given over much for my work; it has demanded sacrifice. I am -just now beginning to prove myself equal to its despotic sovereignty. -Briarley, unless you have tried for one thing all your life, you can’t -conceive how bewildering and sweet a burst of it is for the first time. -Under no conditions whatever would I sacrifice my best aims, my highest -ambitions. It is better to be than to have. That’s my philosophy.” - -“Go on. Every man has the right to work out his own destiny.” - -Briarley filled his glass again. “The way he can get the most -satisfaction is the way he generally chooses.” - -“Satisfaction hurts the soul. There is nothing worse than satiety of -the senses. I would never let myself become thoroughly satisfied.” - -“You couldn’t ask for more than the success of that last book. The -critics rendered you distinguished services,” said Briarley. “I -understand the sale was enormous.” - -“It has sold very well, but that only forces me to wrestle the harder -to keep up the standard of that reputation. If I cared for a woman, my -heart and soul could be loyal to her, but my time and vitality belong -entirely to my art. ‘Women are born to live and love. They only really -live after they love.’” - -Andrews went on as though the other had endorsed his doctrine. “Love -is an uplifting force to genius. A man would be doing a chivalrous act -to win and hold the devotion of a girl in such an instance as I have -cited.” - -“It would be a risk.” - -“Yes, but in my judgment the advantage is much greater than the risk.” - -“It would be a responsibility.” - -“I like responsibility; it braces a man to bear it.” - -“Well, the fellow who carries out your mad project will settle for his -folly.” - -“If he did, I’d stand by him in it.” - -“He couldn’t stand by himself. There’d be the trouble--he’d fall.” - -Glenn Andrews knocked the ashes from his pipe and got up, straightening -his shoulders and smoothing his hair with his hands. His mind was made -up. He did not expect to fall. - -Knowing himself to be his own master, he felt that to lend himself to -anything that would hurt her ideal of him would be impossible. - -“Where now?” - -“To find somebody looking for trouble,” Glenn said, with a smile. - -“Don’t forget the Sunday night concert, Andrews. I’m counting on you. -Here are half the box tickets. Do what you please with them.” - -“I shall be there. Thank you.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -GLENN ANDREWS walked down the street, which had been written on the -sheet of paper in his pocket. - -“No. 23.” He looked up and saw that No. 23 was a hospital. There must -be some mistake. No, that was plainly what it said. - -He stood looking at the door in an anxious manner. - -“Could she be here--ill?” - -He had drawn a charming picture of her, a radiant specimen of perfect -health. His pulse quickened. The curtains parted and a girl appeared -at the window. Her eyes were dim, her face ghastly--the look on it was -neither pain nor age--it was a look of hopelessness. The rich, gleaming -hair made a glory about her head, as the light caught its golden sheen. -That was like her hair. A moment she stood there, looking down the -street, then dropped the curtain. He saw her turn and go sorrowfully -upstairs. - -The light from the hall chandelier was very brilliant--his face cleared. -A better look satisfied him it was not Esther Powel. - -He pondered a minute, then started down the street again. She had -evidently given him the wrong number. - -At the corner he stopped a policeman. “I am looking for a boarding -house on this street--No. 23, West.” - -“Maybe it’s the next street; that same number is a boarding house. All -in this block are private houses except the hospital.” - -Glenn thanked him and went on quickly. She’d made a mistake in the -street maybe. It would soon be too late to call. He did not need to -inquire again, for as he turned the corner he could see Esther Powel on -the steps, looking out upon the square ablaze with light and confusion. - -“It is Mr. Glenn.” With the words she sprang three steps at a time to -the pavement. “How glad I am!” - -And then she stopped, remembered, and held out her hands. - -“How you frightened me. You had me going to the hospital to find you. -That’s the same number on the next street.” - -“Well, how do you expect me to get things right when I feel like I’m -flying every way and can’t get myself together to light?” - -Glenn always found her startling figures amusing. “You will feel that -for awhile.” He hadn’t taken his eyes away from her as she led the way -into the parlor. “You are stunned by the novelties. You will also be -quickened by them.” - -Esther, full-breasted, slender-limbed, rounded. The joy of life was -upon her--the loveliness of full bloom. - -“It’s good to see you again,” he said, “but why didn’t you let me help -you get settled?” - -“It took enough of your time to write that discouraging letter.” - -“You know I didn’t mean it for that. I would do most anything to -further your art. But it is best to do only that for what we are -intended. Nobody could know that as well as yourself. I believed your -decision would be right, whatever it was,” he told her. “Are you -pleased with your advancement so far?” - -“Not pleased--buoyed. I hope to do something some day.” As she raised -her eyes to him they expressed something of the wild, delicate, -throbbing pride. “I did not come to fail.” - -“I believe that, from the good reports I have heard through our old -friend, your professor.” - -“He was very nice to me; it was through him that I knew about the -Frenchman who will instruct me here.” - -“So you’ve arranged all that, too.” - -“Oh, yes; I begin my lessons next Monday.” - -“Smart girl. How are you situated here; are you comfortable?” - -“Comfortable!” she laughed. “I have to come downstairs to draw a good -breath. They stow me away in a sort of a garret on the fourth floor. As -Cousin John would say, there isn’t room to ‘cuss’ a cat without turning -sideways.” - -“I believe your Southern men are more given to profanity than -Northerners,” he said. - -“Oh, but his is so whole-souled that it is only ‘profunity.’” - -“Oh, dear; don’t think that I’m opposed to it,” Glenn interrupted. “I -sometimes find relief in a good, wholesome--” - -Esther held up a warning forefinger. - -“Then you may do mine for me. I shall need it if I stay here long -enough.” - -“Boarding house life is a miserable parody on home, I know. But we can -stand most anything for a while if the incentive is great enough.” - -“All these looking-glasses keep me tangled. I seem to be going towards -myself, from myself, beside myself, but I have been fortunate a part -of the time. Two young men on the train gave me addresses of nice -places to board when they found that I was alone and a stranger to the -city.” - -Instinctively Glenn frowned. “Have you got them?” - -“I saved them to show you.” Taking them from her purse, she handed him -the cards. - -“You don’t want them,” he said, crushing the cards in his hand. - -“Did they ask permission to call?” - -“One did. He wanted to come with me from the station. I didn’t care to -be bothered when I was thinking of seeing you. My! how I dreaded to -see you, though I believe if I hadn’t very soon I’d have started back -South,” she said in her effusive way. “I was afraid the change I’d find -in you would be disappointing.” - -“Was it?” he asked quickly. - -“Yes, because it is for the better. I didn’t want to care as I used to -in the old days.” She was still childish enough to be honest. - -“Why, did you find me unworthy?” - -“I suppose you were worthy enough, but I have learned it is not well -to let one’s affection wrap their tendrils too close about another; it -hurts so when they are snapped.” - -“There is no reason for them to be snapped,” he argued. “The joy of -clinging should make them strong enough to wrap and unwrap, leaving -its sweet effect.” As he was leaving, “Trust men for little and your -instinct for a good deal,” he said. His visit had made him all the more -determined. A profound passion can be displaced only by one greater. He -had had no experience in guiding people, but he had a desperate faith -in his own way of reasoning. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -GLENN ANDREWS took Esther with him to the concert. It was a great -violinist’s last appearance for the season. - -She was happily excited, unconsciously holding Glenn by the sleeve. -The glitter and glory of this wonderful, new world was dazzling. -The violinist, with his long hair and big face of rugged strength, -enchained her the moment the music commenced. - -With the intensity of her growing enthusiasm, she gripped Glenn’s arm. -He was repeatedly recalled. - -“I expect one day to see you sway them like that,” he whispered, as the -curtain went down for the fourth time. - -“Don’t! it is impossible,” she said, sighing. “I am just beginning to -feel that my teeth are not strong enough.” - -“There was a time when his were not, but he wouldn’t let go,” Glenn -said with emphasis. - -Tears stood in her eyes. “Don’t do that, I thought it would inspire you -to see such result, fulfillment; I believe it’s going to depress you.” - -She shook her head. - -“I rejoice with him, I’m glad to see him win; but three long years -before you are sure of anything--even failure--is hard to look forward -to.” - -“Did your teacher say it would take you that long?” - -“Yes, but I had thought that I would double it; take twice the lessons -and practice. After all, I may fail in the end.” - -“Hush, you are no weakling. Of course it’s work, it’s drudgery; that’s -the bracing part of it. You’ve earned the place when you do get it. An -effortless success is only a crueller word for failure; you must not -be impatient. I used to have to remind you of that.” - -Glenn did not know how she would take this; he had had alluring -glimpses of her deeper self, but he must understand her very thoroughly -or he could not hold her, charmed. - -She did not make any reply. - -He was gazing at a box near them and bowed to a majestically handsome -woman, splendidly gowned. He touched Richmond Briarley’s arm. - -“Mrs. Low and Stephen Kent. Kent is an awfully decent chap. He is lucky -to be a protegé of hers. What a lot of good her indorsement has been to -him. I knew him on the other side. I am writing the libretto for his -new opera. You were at the club Tuesday night when he was my guest. -Didn’t you meet him?” - -“No, but I heard him play some of his own compositions. Something was -said about us both joining the club. It’s too literary for me.” - -“I am his voucher. He sails soon and I don’t think he expects to come -into the club until he returns in the winter.” - -Glenn turned to Esther, who was absorbed in the last number on the -programme. - -She spoke softly to him. Gathering up her white silk shawl, he folded -it about her shoulders. - -“We are going in a minute. The lady you see with white hair in this box -next to us is a leader in artistic circles. I want her to know you.” - -The curtain fell as they arose. Linking his little finger in hers -under the fringe, he led her over to the box. There was something in -his manner that expressed beyond question his determination that never -while he had strength should the world darken this child’s soul. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -GLENN ANDREWS was unwearied in his visits, and held to an abiding faith -in Esther’s future, and stronger and stronger grew his determination to -be steadfastly loyal to her. He seemed to have an exhaustless reserve -fund of nerve power. Stinted in sleep, as he was, and overwhelmed by -his own work, yet he made time to look after her. - -With an infinite patience he was cutting a niche for himself, and above -it a name. - -His admirable solicitude for Esther was at strange variance with his -desire to wound her, bruise her, make her think and feel. - -To her he was a mystery unfathomable. The heart within her was so -delicate, it easily swayed from harmony to discord. She was so -sensitive, she must needs be always responsible to the painful as well -as the ecstatic emotions. - -In her habit of telling him everything that happened in her life there -was one thing that she had kept. The nearer it came, the more vivid -grew her prescience of what awaited her. The strain of this fresh -anxiety was consuming her. Would she have strength to hold out? - -She was whiter, her cheeks had not quite that rose bloom she had -brought with her out of the air and sunshine. Under this weight she -went steadfastly on, in silence. - -Glenn saw this. He had told her she was working too hard. He could see -that her health was not up to the mark. When there was a cloud, or the -shadow of a cloud upon her face, he saw it. She should see a doctor. -He told her that repeatedly. Honest as she was, she could not bring -herself to tell him that she was too poor. Already she had battled -through the heat of the long summer, in need of medical assistance. -She was living up to her income, and found it difficult to furnish the -bare necessities and pay for just half the lessons she had counted on. -There was no hope of shortening the three years except by increasing -her practice. This she determined to do, six hours a day instead of -three. - -“I believe you would stay up in that room and mold,” Glenn said one day -as they walked in the sun by the river. “You surely could find time for -an outing once a day for an hour or two.” He was puzzled to know why -she had declined to walk with him of late. It did not occur to him that -lack of time was her excuse. - -“You have your lessons but four days in the week,” he said. - -“Only two now,” she corrected him. - -“Then you have changed your plans!” - -“Yes.” - -“And how many hours a day do you devote to your practicing?” - -“Oh, several; it depends upon my humor and strength.” - -“I don’t think you consider the strength,” he said as he looked at her. -“You are tired now, why didn’t you tell me? Sit here and rest a little -before going back.” - -As they took a seat on the high edge of the river, there was something -like a sob of exhaustion in her breath. - -“Oh, Esther! How could you?” seeing how faint she was. Her cheek fell -in one hand. - -“Why didn’t you tell me you were tired?” - -“The air was so bracing, I kept thinking I would feel better directly. -How stupid of me to give out so quickly.” - -His tender little cares for her comfort, in small things, had often -made her ashamed and afraid she was a burden to him. - -“Did the doctor give you a tonic when you saw him?” - -“I haven’t been to him yet.” - -Glenn Andrews looked away across the blue water. His heart understood. -He knew by her face that the coldest thing on earth was clamping at her -heart. Presently he turned back to her. - -“How good a friend do you count me?” - -“The best I have in the world.” - -“Good enough to ask anything of me--everything?” - -She sat in silence, taking her hand softly away from the support of her -face. - -“Will you answer me?” - -“There are some things that I would ask of nobody that lives.” - -Glenn slightly raised his broad shoulders and lowered them with a sigh. - -“I am disappointed in our friendship. It has failed.” - -She reflected a moment; “I don’t deserve that from you.” - -“Nor do I deserve what you have just put upon me.” It had struck him -like a pang. The sweet sense of her faith--her dependence upon him--had -been the very dearest emotion of his life. It strengthened him, to -feel that she might lean hard upon him. He was not willing that the -pressure should be lessened. - -“I don’t want to pass for more than I am worth. If I have fallen short -of what you expected of me, I don’t blame you for putting me down on -the common level with everybody.” - -If her sorrow had been his own he could not have felt it more deeply. -“Only I am disappointed, that’s all.” - -She was distressed to the soul; his sympathy for her had been so -courageously beautiful, so exquisitely true, that she could not bear -the idea of disappointing him, or allowing him to feel that she -underrated his value. - -“I don’t know men very well, but I know you are not like the others. -Nothing could be very hard to bear, because you are my friend. I -welcome the days which bring you to me. You have been my fortification.” - -“Then prove it,” the soft answer came back. “I know that something -distresses you. Tell me of it, and let me help you.” - -“It’s nothing that you could change.” - -“How do you know? Let me judge that.” - -“No, not now, sometime I will tell you if you can soften things for me.” - -Her keen refinement would not let her talk to him of her poverty. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -RICHMOND BRIARLEY had never asked any questions about Esther Powel; she -was Glenn’s friend, and that was all. - -“I saw Miss Powel,” he said, as he and Glenn sat over their lunch. “I -nearly got past before I recognized her. She has changed. She has been -ill?” - -“No, I think not,” Glenn answered. “She’s been working hard, and she -hasn’t been used to work. I am going away on my vacation to-morrow. -I’ve been wondering if there wasn’t some nice place, just outside -of town, where she might go. She needs the rest, the change.” Glenn -Andrews made no secret of his kindly interest. He and Richmond Briarley -had long been closely intimate. - -“What’s the matter with my yacht? The old thing might sink if it knew -there was a woman aboard, but let it sink. It would give you a chance -to show your heroism.” - -“Would you come along?” - -“Oh, no; I might not get ashore. Really I have other plans, but it is -easy enough to get a crowd. There’s Mrs. Low and Kent.” - -“Both on the other side, won’t be back before winter.” Andrews looked -worried as he spoke. - -“Damn it, I couldn’t do it anyhow; I’ve promised to go to the -Adirondacks.” - -Briarley glanced at him. “Another woman?” - -“Several, Jack and his wife will be along.” Even in the intimacy of -their friendship Richmond Briarley had never asked that much before. -Glenn Andrews alone knew how hard was the sense of finding himself -bound through overwhelming conviction of duty. - -“I was out to dinner with Jack last night. You couldn’t look at him and -doubt such a thing as love, yet Marie was always a little tyrant. It -made me wonder, after all, what kind of a wife made a man happiest.” - -“I can tell you, a dead one.” - -“Honestly I believe he would have gone stark mad if he hadn’t won her. -He worships her.” - -“He’d have come out without a scratch. My observation is that a man can -get over not getting a girl easier than he can get over getting her.” - -“I believe in marriage--it’s the only decent way to live, but I wouldn’t -care for my wife the way he does; my regard wouldn’t have that -self-sacrifice in it. I’d want a woman to minister to my comfort, put -mustard plasters on me when I was sick.” - -“But the wife. What would she get in return?” - -“My name, for the sake of which I would sacrifice the most precious -gift that could come into a man’s life--a woman whom I could have loved -and by whom I could have been loved.” - -“A pretty theory, but, ye gods! the practice.” Briarley laid down -his napkin and leaned back from the table, staring at the other -contemplatively. - -“Andrews, for a man of your logic, you are confoundedly disappointing. -I’d have thought you’d have very fantastic ideals of marriage--of -the woman that was to make your home. You claim that your philosophy -is in straight lines. There are two ways of making a straight line, -horizontal and perpendicular, then they cross. You think it is infamous -to marry for money, and you have tabooed your pet hobby,” he said -with an ironical curl of the lip. “Five years ago, before you had got -your bearings, you might have humored such a whimsical freak of that -individuality of yours, but now you would struggle devilishly before -you would spoil your life.” - -“I have theories, not just to talk about, but to live by. My philosophy -is extraordinarily simple. You can’t have the pie and eat it too.” - -With a reflective survey of his friend, Briarley commenced with a kind -of confidential frankness. - -“If you are to make marriage a commodity, why not be brutally -practical? You are a very decent sort of a chap, and fame, for you, -is on the up grade. You could marry money. A poor married man might -as well be a street-car mule and be done with it. Talk about it being -easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to -go to heaven, why it’s easier for a whole drove of them to get through -than for man to get anywhere without money.” - -“You are very good to care anything about it, but I have quite decided -in my mind what I shall do with that problem,” Glenn announced with -resolute calmness. The other lit a cigar, and leaned back in comfort. - -“I’ll swear you provoke me, and I don’t know why I should give a hang. -Self-will sometimes degenerates--then it is stubbornness--but I suppose -every fellow has a right to sign his own death warrant if he chooses, -and failure is a death warrant.” - -“There are some things you know and some that you don’t know.” - -“And a devilish lot that nobody will ever know,” said Briarley, as he -flicked the ashes from his cigar. - -There was a tender spot in his iron heart for Glenn Andrews. He was -too noble, too talented, to lose in sacrifice the possibilities of so -brilliant a future. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -THEY were strolling together in the art gallery. It was the first -time that Glenn had seen Esther since returning from his vacation. He -stopped to admire a picture, for the second time, pointing out its -beauties for her. She appreciated his interpretations, and her acute -understanding grew more beautiful to him. - -“I never look at such work,” he said, “without wondering what it cost -its creator. The gift of art is great, sacred, yet it is one long term -of self-denial.” - -“I know that,” Esther assented. She was beginning to realize its -draining demands. She had brightened a trifle to-day in spite of it. A -little of the old impulsive blooming beauty had come back. The brisk -walk through the park, in the keen, sweet autumn weather might have -heightened that--and Glenn’s return doubtless had something to do with -it. - -“Mrs. Low has a picture in her gallery by this same artist. She has -one of the finest private galleries in the city. You shall see it, I -believe, now that she’s back. I promised her I’d bring you to one of -her receptions. She’s noted for having people who are amazingly clever, -or beautiful or something of the sort. Fortunately I come under the -class, ‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot?’ But you are to do your -turn. She expects it. We will go next Tuesday to her opening night. You -will see a live lord. Her daughter, who married one, brought him home -with her.” - -“Will it make me like you any less?” - -“I should hope not. Rather more, for he has brutal manners, and you -would never think she held a higher place than his stenographer. -But she doesn’t mind that, she has a title. He draws his allowance -from her and his inspiration from elsewhere. I fancy they are rather -contented.” - -“Contented!” Esther lifted a solemn face to him. - -“It seems to me that a marriage without love would crush all that was -sweetest and finest in a woman’s nature. Marriage for love is the -dearest gift to any soul--it is the highest ideal of God’s world.” She -was in one of her intense moods. - -“But if it be for anything else?” He encouraged her to go on. - -“It’s a desecration. Love is not only the holiest thing in the life of -a woman, but it’s life itself for the man. It makes him whatever he -becomes. The righteous altar-vow is a delight and to obey is the cry of -the heart if it speaks the words with the lips.” - -“You know we never agreed upon that subject. I consider marriage merely -an incident in life.” - -“But the one decisive incident of it all,” she returned. - -They had left the gallery and were going through the park. His glance -wandered often from her face to a glad contemplation of the vivid -coloring of the woods. - -“Mightn’t a man marry for honor?” finally he asked. - -“Give me an example.” - -“I am not trying to convert you,” he said, disclaiming all -responsibility. - -“Tell me of a case?” - -His face contracted nervously. “Let’s talk about something else.” - -With a little impatient gesture, “Oh, give me an instance, it will -keep me from imagining things.” She stopped by a rustic seat with an -independent lift of the head and would go no further. She felt that she -deserved his confidence and trust. Upon her face were tears of pained -emotion. She did not know her real place in his life and whenever she -struggled for it her suffering was intense. - -There was a pause. Glenn decided to humor her. Taking a seat beside -her, he began in his tone of tranquil philosophy: - -“Suppose a man--young--under an infatuation, becomes engaged to a girl. -When he is older, his ideas change; he gets over it, she doesn’t. -Although he has a sincere regard and respect for her, in his heart -there is another ideal. He regrets being bound. What should he do?” - -“I hate the word ‘bound.’ Marriage is not to bind, but to privilege. -Without love it would be nothing more than slavery. Every human soul -revolts at that.” - -“But an engagement is like a gambling debt; it has no witnesses. It -puts a man upon his honor.” - -“Might he not have the nobility to assume his vows, without the -fortitude to endure them manfully? That would make each think nothing -of love and little of life. I believe it is impossible for a man to be -true to his wife with another woman’s image in his heart; in spite of -outward appearances the emptiness is there--convention cannot crush out -nature. If he took a vow like that, he’d be false to it; hypocracy is -dishonor.” She suddenly fronted him. - -“What would you do if you were the man?” - -“Oh, don’t make an example of me,” he said in a hard voice. “You know -me well enough to guess what I would do.” - -She turned her eyes to his face; her expression changed. “You would be -true to what you thought was your honor.” - -“I hope I would fulfill any promise I should make.” He had always had -himself in command, yet he was sometimes conscious of a fear that -Esther might have dreamed some touch of heroism in his nature, which -was not there. Her ideal of him had been impressed upon her immaturity. - -“I have a story about a man’s honor,” she said after an awkward -silence, lifting a small paper volume in her hand. “The young man on -my floor asked me to take it and read it. He said it was ‘simply -great.’” - -“‘Simply great,’ was it?” Glenn said, taking the book. “Certainly he is -bold and unconventional enough to presume to offer you a book when you -have scarcely a speaking acquaintance with him.” - -“He brought it to my door one rainy day; I took it as a kindness.” -Reading the French title, Glenn’s eyes took on the glint of steel. - -“Have you read it?” he asked. - -“No, I thought we might begin it together to-day.” - -“Well, we won’t,” he told her, frankly. “It is not the kind for you to -read. When the young man inquires for his book you can send him to me.” - -Glenn was never more savagely angry as he doubled the book and thrust -it into his pocket. He would keep from her that part of the world’s -evil at least. - -“Have I done anything you don’t like?” - -“No, but it maddens me to see anybody try to impose upon you. Don’t -accept any more courtesies from that class; I’ll bring you all the -books that you want to read.” - -“You are very good; I’ll try to remember that,” she promised. He hoped -she would. His care of her was like the fond tending of a flower that -has been unwittingly left in a fetid atmosphere. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -MRS. LOW’S receptions were more cordial and less formal than the usual -social affairs. Glenn Andrews and Esther arrived late. The richest -Oriental splendor surrounded them. There were a thousand rare souvenirs -of foreign lands to please the eye. The colors in the tapestries and -rugs were of that exquisitely tender hue that comes only from age. The -largest rug, covered with inscriptions from Saadi, the Persian poet, -seemed to have caught more of the charm and sentiment of the Orient. -Glenn was calling Esther’s attention to it while they waited for a -chance to speak to the hostess. Red lights glowed warmly through the -iron-fretted lanterns swinging low. A hidden harpist was playing -soft, sweeping strains of sound. Mrs. Low caught a glimpse of the late -arrivals. She met them with hands outstretched, a radiant smile of -welcome upon her face. - -“Ah, Glenn, Miss Powel; charmed, I assure you. Mr. Kent has been -waiting to have this young lady accompany him,” she said, as that -gentleman joined them. - -“You came just in time, Miss Powel. Our friend, Mr. Andrews, has told -me that you have been good enough to take the trouble to learn the -‘Serenade’ that is to be in our new opera. Mrs. Low has out-talked -me and made me feel that my friends should be first to pass judgment -before the critics get a chance.” - -Esther hesitated a moment, smiling. - -“That will be charming,” Glenn whispered to her, inclining his head. He -smiled slightly as his eyes met hers. - -His approval was what she had waited for--that was plain. The next -moment she had graciously indicated her willingness by taking up her -violin that Mrs. Low had sent for before she came. - -The sight of Stephen Kent at the piano and Esther beside him made -the rooms silent in an instant and stilled the unseen harpist. Glenn -Andrews kept close watch upon the crowd as it stood in mute attention. -It was to note how she was received. He had forgotten his share in the -honors. Stephen Kent sang the passionately poetic words; the exquisite -commingling of the voice and violin suddenly awoke in the poet the -thought of what sincerity of the soul there was in those words. - -In the heat of the enthusiasm that followed the encore some one grasped -Glenn Andrews’ hands. “And those lines are perfectly exquisite. I am -wild to hear all of your libretto.” - -“Oh, indeed!” he answered, staring, and that moment it was the effort -of his life to know what she meant. - -“Libretto?” he said to himself. “Oh, when I heard such playing I forgot -I had written anything,” he declared, with a laugh. He was extremely -shocked to discover that he had composed the words. - -“Aren’t you a little crazy?” the expression on her face asked, as Mrs. -Low came up and led him away. She had become devotedly attached to him -during their life in Paris. - -“If that is a fair sample of your opera, it will be most enchanting.” -The hearty words carried with them something of the sincere interest -she felt. - -“You are very kind, Mrs. Low. Your approval is a great compliment to -our poor efforts. You, of course, know its success means a better -future to both of us; the financial part of it being of no slight -importance.” - -“It’s going to succeed; it has the merit and the backing. Give yourself -no anxiety. Kent certainly has done his part well. It is his master -effort.” - -Mrs. Low sank deep in the gorgeous cushions and looked across to where -Esther stood besieged. She was so unspoiled and direct of manner. -There was something picturesquely Southern in her simple gown. - -“Tell me something more about her. Is she in earnest or does she play -with her art for the same reason that a kitten plays with her ball?” - -“Oh, she is in dead earnest, Mrs. Low. She is overworking in her -enthusiasm.” - -Glenn caught Esther’s eye as he spoke. There was a touch of pathos in -the smile. - -“That will never do. You might persuade her to take it more slowly.” -She stopped a moment, looking up with guarded eyes. Glenn Andrews was -not big print to her. The depths of his nature had to be read between -the lines. In her heart she wondered if he would resent the questioning. - -He studied her magnificent repose, that matched his. - -“She has genius. I have become quite interested in her already,” said -Mrs. Low. - -A shade of relief passed over Glenn’s features as he heard this. - -“I have known her for years. The poor child has neither parents nor -friends to restrain or aid her. She has not reached that point in her -art where she can earn a dollar. I have been thinking many ways of -trying to help her. It must be some way by which she feels that she is -earning it. I know her so well.” - -“It is not often that I ask such close questions, but this time it is -because of my interest. What are you to her?” - -Her tone did not imply idle curiosity. He clasped his hands -thoughtfully. - -“Honestly, I don’t know how to answer you. I am her friend, brother, -critic--I suppose. If I had to select one word to express my relation to -her, I should say, chaperone.” - -“Chaperone,” she repeated, with charming grace. “That is a virgin field -for a man’s possibilities, but since I think of it, I had a great deal -rather trust some men I know to look after a child of mine than most -women.” - -“Coming here alone, as Miss Powel did, and with very little capital, it -was hard for her to find herself face to face with the world. But she -has determination. She actually steals hours from her rest. She must -have relief from the strain or it will crush all the life out of her -soul.” - -“Oh, yes; something must be done,” answering his intensity with a sweet -interest. “Couldn’t I help you in some way?” - -He reflected seriously a moment. - -“I believe you could. Suppose you got her to play here four times -during the month and let her believe you had rewarded her by paying -her twenty-five dollars each time. I would give you my check for the -hundred dollars each month.” - -“That will be just the thing. Later she will be able to get some good -engagements at drawing room recitals.” - -“Would you indeed be willing to let me help her through you, Mrs. -Low?” he asked, with some confusion. - -“I am only too happy to be able to add that little to so loyal a -project.” - -“Thank you. Your co-operation means more to me than you can possibly -imagine.” - -“Your friend has been telling me of your work, and how brave you are,” -Mrs. Low said, as she took Esther’s hand at parting. “I shall come soon -to see you. I think I can add a little sunshine to your life.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -GLENN saw Esther a few days afterward and found her unusually cheerful. -Her face had a new light, and she had good reason for it. She spoke -with a buoyancy of expression that Glenn had not lately heard. She told -how Mrs. Low had arranged for her to play during the entire winter at -her receptions. This simplified the complex future. She reflected a -little more calmly on her condition. All these months she had tried -to think of some way out of it. She had thought of everything--except -giving up. - -She made friends. She was interested in everything. In her appreciation -and confiding ways Mrs. Low found a degree of satisfaction and intense -pleasure in the reflected happiness from Esther’s life. Glenn -encouraged the tonic of social life for her as something needful to -everybody. Under his own eye, he was willing to let her glimpse at it -in all its phases; the soullessness of it, its petty intrigues and -foibles. The flawlessness of her own mind would itself be a shield. Her -contact with such frivolity would be like that of satin and sandpaper. -With intense interest he watched her career during the season. He was -her severest and most unsparing critic, although he sometimes believed -that it hurt him more than her. Their lives were moving along together -with unconscious accord. There was an undercurrent of deeper sympathy -lying dormant. He was making her a part of his life. He would have -denied it, however, had any man put this truth into words and accused -him. A thousand times he had told himself, reassuringly, that he was -commander still. He reasoned that her art would soon be sufficiently -lofty, sufficiently complete for her to hear any decree that fate might -read to her. New friends, fresh scenes, homage to her art--all these -would help to fill her life. This was a conviction born of his own -philosophy. He fancied he could already perceive a more independent -air; a less frequent turning to him for guidance and protection. This -elusive, half-mysterious charm she had acquired, he misinterpreted. It -was largely due to the different lights that had been thrown upon him. - -She had been repeatedly stunned by chance-heard remarks of his -betrothal. When Glenn heard that Esther’s name was to figure -prominently in the most brilliant recitals of the season, there was a -buoyant sweetness in the frank radiance of hope, the eager expectancy -and passionate faith in her ability. She had been tasting some of the -fruition of her toil. Of this he was proud. - -The night came. It was a fashionable throng that poured into the -Metropolitan. The fascinating twirl of jewelled lorgnettes and the -flashing movement of the vast array of wealth and beauty made the -two wide, innocent eyes that peered out from behind the curtain, -reel--drunk with the wine of enthusiasm; this little atom who was to -win or lose before this great audience of connoisseurs. Win she must. -No girl could shake off the memory of so public a humiliation. The -sight confused her. She trembled a little and slipped back to her -dressing-room. “I feel as though the judgment day were at hand,” she -said. “My heart is bigger than my whole body.” - -“You darling, it was always that.” Mrs. Low gathered her proudly in her -arms, as she spoke. - -“Where have you been?” Esther left a warm kiss on her throat. “Up to -the very same thing you were, looking for a particular face, I know.” - -“I’ll take another survey presently. Of course he will be here. Oh! -what a dream of a gown; you look like a vision from heaven.” Mrs. Low -eyed her closely, fearful lest the misplacement of the slightest detail -might mar the perfect whole. - -“This must be the laurel crowning of your season.” - -Her delicate face was beaming; she felt it rather than hoped it. - -“This ordeal means everything to me. I am not as frightened as I -expected. Honestly, I feel as if I could make music without strings -or bow. Something in the very air charges me with a wild, savage -inspiration. Go, look again, now. I know he is here.” - -Several minutes passed and she did not return, so Esther went out to -the wings while the first numbers were being rendered. - -“Now, my dear!” whispered Mrs. Low, as the call came for Esther. “Do -your best. Glenn is in the right of the centre aisle, half-way back -with the woman in pink. I know you won’t disappoint him.” - -These words came from the gentlest heart in the world, with no idea of -their tragic significance. - -Esther stepped to her place on the stage. - -The bored faces of the leaders of the orchestra brightened. Every -instrument was ready to respond to the first notes of her obligato. -Even in that surging human sea she was conscious of dumbly searching -for Glenn Andrews. As she stood slightly swaying with the first few -strains, she saw him--his head thrown back with a superb gesture--his -features all alight from the ideal soul within--his dreamy, mystical -eyes full of expectancy. He was in a state of rapturous anticipation. -In the “woman in pink” she recognized as being the one with whom -society had intimately coupled his name. - -What a heart-thrust! She blanched at the thought of it. And of all the -nights of her life, this one--her very own--was most cruel. - -There was a rush of resentment through her being, stronger, for the -instant, than everything. She could not resist its influence; discord -followed discord until the orchestra was forced to stop. - -The scene before her whirled so fast that it made her dizzy. She felt -blindly across the strings for a harmony which she had lost. Glenn -Andrews was conscious of a curious tightening at the throat as he saw -her pitiful struggles. His heart almost stopped. She was failing. This -was maddening. He had had many disappointments in his life, but this -was one he could not face. Abruptly he rose and rushed out into the -aisle. The humiliation was too bitter. - -There was a little ripple of excitement. Esther saw him going; but -still did not realize that his seat there had only been a coincidence. -She hated, she adored him. The moment seemed supreme of all the moments -of her life. - -A feeling of longing unutterable came over her--longing to recall him--a -feeling that rose to ever fuller power until her whole being vibrated -with the desire. She tightened her grasp of the instrument to steady -her convulsive trembling. Glenn stopped. A new thrill was creeping -through the music. Her eyes evinced a conquering fire born of internal -despair. She was playing now as if inspired by some power above and -beyond all things of earth. Through it all ran the shrill, sweet -strains of her long-pent soul. Glenn stood immovable, with his eyes -fixed upon her. - -The sublime passion throbbing through the music was a sound that a -human soul could not resist, as if the player’s whole nature were -speaking to him. It pleaded, commanded, until it smote each tense chord -of his life--compelled completest harmony. He followed with eager looks -every gesture of her bow. His lips broke into a proud smile, revealing -all he felt. It ended in an echo, transcendent, sovereign, supreme. The -violin fell at her feet. The very air was saturated with the incense of -applause. - -He awakened as though from a dream to share in it. He grew almost -hysterical as the audience begged for an encore. The curtain rose. -Esther, flushed with her success, almost gasped as she reappeared. -There was a rain of flowers, falling from everywhere. Glenn felt his -heart beat after her in an ecstasy of longing. The curtain rose again -and again. He had never known the height or depth of their natures -before. He adored her--Esther, whose growth in beauty, power, glory he -had watched with boyish tenderness. All that he had admired, and had -not dared to hope for, were united in her. From the depths of his being -there came to him the first over-mastering passion of his life--in a -love that he had forbidden himself. - - - - -THE WOMAN. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Glenn sent his congratulations with a lot of flowers. He did not trust -himself to call. That was not indifference, but too much feeling. The -following week he sent her a few lines: - - “My dear Esther; - - “It will be impossible for me to take you to the musicale, but I have - arranged to have Mr. Kent call for you, and I feel sure that you will - be in good hands.” - -This note of mild regret made her a little cross, as it was the first -time he had ever consented to have her go out alone with another man. -There seemed nothing else to do but submit, wash a tear of vexation -from her face, and be ready to go when Mr. Kent called. - -From Glenn Andrews’ point of view this privilege was an endorsement -of the man he had selected. She was his treasure and he could never -entrust it to any man in whom he had not the staunchest faith. Later he -learned through Stephen Kent that they had gone together and the affair -had been as pleasant as usual. That was satisfactory. He would have -them go again together. - -Ever since the concert Glenn had tried to think only of his work. His -calmness at such a crisis at first led him into the belief that it -would be easy to hold himself in check. The revelation that had come -to him upon that night had been the work of a strong thing but for a -moment. What he was now he would remain. How little did he dream of -what a sharp conflict he would have in the strife to conquer himself. - -He could not stay away too long--he looked upon it in a measure as his -duty to see how the infrequent visits were affecting her. - -It was not until he was taking up his hat to leave that he approached -the subject of Stephen Kent as her escort to the next musicale. - -“He will be very glad to have you go with him.” Glenn pressed her hand -in his and he saw tears in her eyes. - -“Esther!” He laid aside his hat, drew her down beside him on the divan. -He could not leave until he had traced those tears to their source. -“What does this mean, tell me?” - -“Oh, don’t ask me that!” She folded her hands before her as if in mute -emphasis. - -He was not suspicious, but this made him afraid--he felt as if something -had struck him. - -“Did Stephen Kent dare to hurt you. If so, it’s my fault--I introduced -you to him.” - -“Oh, Mr. Glenn, let it go, but nothing would induce me to go with him -again.” She felt the color go out of her face as she became conscious -of his fixed gaze. - -“Where has your frankness and freedom gone?” He drew her toward him and -compelled her to meet his eyes. - -His voice was full of power. - -“You must tell me what Stephen Kent has done.” - -“You like him; I am afraid you will be angry, disappointed.” She made -no effort to free herself. - -He could not draw a confession from her as he sat some minutes waiting. -“Have you that little confidence in my friendship?” - -“I don’t want to make you feel that you have not the friendship of that -man.” - -“Then you know that I haven’t.” - -“I know that he told me horrid, false things of your life abroad, and -tried to make me lean upon him instead of you. He tried to persuade -me to do all the things and go to all the places that you had warned -me of. If I had known by nothing else that would have made me know it -would be wrong--wickedly wrong.” - -“Wolf!” He could scarcely hold his grasp for the trembling of his hands. - -“I’ll settle with Stephen Kent,” he said, aloud. “He must answer to me -for this.” - -Glenn Andrews’ face looked manlier than ever in its rage. - -Esther’s heart stood still for a moment, then beat wildly in its fear. - -“Don’t risk yourself for me. I’m so sorry I told you.” - -“Now I shall take care of myself and of him also. Don’t be fretting -about the outcome. This is the last time you need be annoyed with it.” -He stroked her hair, and there was a calming tenderness in the way he -did it. - -She could have borne the indignity alone if only Glenn had not brought -the subject up. She had never meant to tell it to anyone. - -Glenn left the house and went at once, only to find that Mr. Kent was -not at home. Several days in succession he called with the same result. -He wondered what impulse would lead him to if he should meet him by -chance. Delay could scarcely weaken his determination to even up this -score. - -When Glenn went to the regular meeting of the club a few days later, it -was a little shock of surprise that the name of Stephen Kent was up for -membership. With a delicate tact he avoided any part of the proceedings -that was not forced upon him. When it came his turn to cast his ballot -for the man of whom he could have said a week ago he was all honor, he -started, trembling violently as he let fall from his hand--a black ball. - -The results of the ballot came as a great surprise to every man of -them except the one who had turned the course. Questioning, no doubt, -went round the room and there was a ripple of comment passing among -the groups after the meeting was over and the members were going out. -At the foot of the stairs one man met Stephen Kent and told him the -result, which he had come over to learn. The disappointment in his -face was intense as he took a few steps more, taking out his penknife -to cut his cigar, and met Glenn Andrews. - -“Look here, Andrews, what does this mean? They tell me I am -blackballed.” - -“They told you the truth,” he said, coolly. - -“Well! that’s damned strange.” Kent’s answer had in it the sting of -humiliation. - -“If I knew the man who did it, I would thrash him within an inch of his -life. The sneak!” - -Glenn Andrews’ eyes were dilated and flashing. - -“Stephen Kent, you don’t have to go very far to find him. I am the man.” - -“You; and may I ask why?” - -“Because your dishonorable conduct to Miss Powel proved to me that you -are not a gentleman.” - -He was fearless in speech and action. His exultant manliness made the -other cower. - -“A man generally knows the lay of the land. She is pretty free.” - -“Free, my God!” Glenn Andrews’ face flashed fire. “You are a liar!” - -The next moment the two grappled. A crowd gathered around in wild -excitement. Before they could be parted the battle had been fought. -With the first lift of his hand, Stephen Kent’s penknife had slipped -across and cut the radial artery of Glenn Andrews’ wrist. Regardless -of the flow of blood, he had dealt the blow that laid the other at his -feet. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -IT was several days before Glenn felt able to resume his work. He kept -away from Esther until he could give himself a chance to recover from -the acute anaemia from which he suffered. Finally, when he called, he -found that she had left that place, and her address could not be given -him. - -He was worried and bitterly wounded. - -This girl, wild of heart, full of all sorts of emotions, full of -unreasoning impulses who had once been easy for him to understand, had -gained a complexity and subtlety new to him. - -Yet he could do nothing now but treat it as a recurrence of her old -fits of childish petulance. If, by some unaccountable chance, there -was any finality in this step of hers, and her motive was to break -off their old blameless intimacy, he would watch over her from afar. -There was no malice in his heart for her. Nobody could make him believe -a story, the truth of which would be unworthy of her. Yet the dim, -persistent sense of dissatisfaction which he tried so hard to stifle, -under a rush of work and recreation, would not vanish. Time, which he -filled with the fever of his literary passion, together with keeping -in touch with a few old friends, had become so strained, so intense, -that in spite of the firm strength he had, the inordinate will, sheer -physical weariness conquered, the tense nerves for a time relaxed. - -It was in the latter part of April that Richmond Briarley happened to -stop in a flower store to order a palm for some friend. At the counter -stood a slender girl. There was something very unusual about her or he -would not have given her a moment’s thought, nor the second look. - -Her hair swept back in deep waves from her brow, under the wide, soft -hat. The dark blue of her eyes seemed to gently motion as she looked at -the delicate orchids the clerk held across to her. - -“That’s what I want.” - -Then she turned away as he went to wrap them for her. She felt a sudden -swelling of the heart, as she faced Richmond Briarley. - -“How do you do, Miss Powel,” he said in acknowledgment of her -recognition. - -“I have quite lost track of you since our friend Andrews has been ill. -You’ll be glad to know his doctor now thinks he may pull through.” - -“Mr. Glenn ill--dangerously ill?” She was white to the lips. - -The look on her face he would never forget while he lived. - -“Where? Where?” she said, eagerly clasping her hands. “Let me go to -him.” - -“He has someone--you can do nothing. She does everything.” - -He said very little beyond the bare statement, but his answer added to -the pain of her wound. - -There was nothing she could do. This was the bitterest, cruelest -thought--she was not needed--she who would have died to spare him pain. - -Richmond Briarley knew what it meant; his heart was touched for her. - -“I’m going to see him now, if you care to send him a word.” - -“Tell him how sorry I am, and would you take these flowers to -him--orchids are his favorite flowers. I was going to wear them to a -musicale to-night.” - -“Certainly I will take them.” - -“Wait just a minute.” - -She took the pencil of her chatelaine and wrote her new address on the -box; her fingers were trembling, so she doubted if he would recognize -her signature. - -She smiled a little as he lifted his hat, when he bade her good-by. -Pride was a matter of principle with her. - -What she suffered in the days that came after could not be told. - -It was early in May before Glenn was able to be out again. - -To see Esther was one of his first visits. She greeted him with a -grave, solicitous face. - -“I am glad you are better. I didn’t even know it until you had passed -the crisis.” - -“Whose fault was it?” That old perversity had not been subdued by -suffering. - -“Oh, don’t; not to-day, anyhow.” She put her hands up and gently turned -down the collar of his coat. “Come, now; lie down on the divan. You’ve -overdone your strength.” - -His fingers in her folded grasp were trembling. - -“I’m not equal to my work yet,” he said, as he stretched out among the -pillows, closing his eyes wearily. - -“I wouldn’t have come if it had not been your birthday,” turning his -head, revealing the painful clearness of his profile. - -“I remembered you had someone who loved you; to think of it always -before--now there’s nobody.” - -Sitting beside him she stroked his forehead very tenderly. - -“You were always thoughtful of me.” - -They were silent for a time. - -“Sometimes I longed for the warm, sweet touch of your hand on my head,” -he said at last; “it throbbed so, and ached.” - -“Oh, dear, why didn’t you send for me?” - -“You forget, I didn’t know where to send.” - -She paled under the answer. “But you had someone you wanted more.” She -said this with an impulsive touch of resentment. - -“She was the best one I ever had. Professional nurses are not always as -solicitous or as kind.” - -“Professional,” Esther repeated to herself, betraying no sign of the -relief it gave her. - -The soft wind moved the curtains and let a flash of sunlight in. Glenn -looked out; the air was full of spring. - -He could not but think of the old days, the paths upon which they had -strolled now lay green and solitary through field and woods. - -For a man who loved to steep himself in the sunshine and open air, he -but seldom indulged himself. - -“Esther, get your hat; it’s too fine a day to be indoors. I’ll take you -away, out to Van Cortlandt Park.” - -“Are you able to stand the trip? Don’t go just for my pleasure.” - -“I shall enjoy it more than you will,” he said. “It’s what I need. -Haven’t I always told you how selfish I was.” - -Without another word she obeyed him, delighted at the prospect. Van -Cortlandt was beautiful. They took a little boat and went out on the -lake. So precious was the silence--the solitude--the shadow of the -willows, that Glenn allowed Esther to take the oars he had taught her -to handle and stretched himself full length in the boat. The water -trembled under the sweet wind that blew fresh upon him. - -Esther was in one of her rapturous moods, gazing with wide, dilated -eyes upon the spring woods opening out to screen the unresponsive -world--leaving them alone together. She could see it all reviving him -like wine. - -“Esther?” The name and touch thrilled her. - -“When they told me I might not get well, I thought of you--I had -something to tell you.” - -“Tell me now.” - -“That was if I had to die.” - -“Oh, don’t speak of your death!” Her voice thrilled with a passion she -herself did not understand. - -“What I said as a child is still true. Life could not be sweet to me -with you out of it.” - -“Nonsense! With a great future flashing before you.” - -“Could any fortune be sweet, or any gift it brought a woman be worth -having, if the one for whom she cared were not there to share it with -her?” - -“A woman’s love is essentially spiritual in its nature. It does not -depend so much upon sight,” he said. - -She had dropped the oars. They were drifting dreamily. - -The sun had gone down below the horizon, leaving purple shadows on its -rim. The willows sent their seductive motions across the face of the -waters. - -She looked at him as though to draw him nearer and enfold him in her -stretched-out arms. The warm impulses of her heart were warring in -their wild effort to be free. Silence was the language of youth and -love to him--they needed no words. - -The force and the sweetness, the purity and power of his nature as she -interpreted it, was the complete realization of her beautiful dreams. - -“Have you ever forgiven me for spilling your blood and leaving a scar?” -Her thrillingly delicate touch on his knee swept him with a swift, -vigorous delight. - -“Forgiven! I’ve blessed you. That is something from you that I shall -carry with me through life. And there’s another I want--a memory. You -never have called me by my name.” - -Looking into his fine, clear face, she felt the love flowing softly -like a fountain in her heart. “Glenn,” she whispered his beloved name. - -“Esther! dearest!” Drawing her toward him, he kissed her on her lips as -he held her close in the clasp of his arms with the intensity of his -commanding love. Her hat had fallen off; he caught the dank fragrance -of her hair. - -Something fluttered in her breast--something new and strange and strong. -She did not understand that she had left girlhood behind and become a -woman. All the woman in her was quickened by his kiss. - -“Oh, how I love to feel your heart beating against mine.” - -Her words, her kiss, touched his soul to its depths. He was startled -at the depths he had stirred. - -“Heart! dear heart of mine!” She was in a fit of adoring fury. Her lips -met his, again and again. She loved him so humanly and yet there was -only the tender throb and thrill of the sensitive nature in all its -refinement. Sweet emotions shot through her breast. - -“Love me, no matter what comes, Esther, love me.” - -He too felt some hurting power bound through his blood, and wrestle -with his reserve--his equilibrium. - -His low voice, his soft eyes, held her; not a tone, not a look but it -caressed her. - -The soft shadows, the limpid waters, the open air--with it altogether he -felt a strange softening. - -“You never said sweet words straight from your heart to me before.” - -“Why words? Instinct, nature, tells us when a thing is true. That great -silent power often stands between the soul and what it loves. It is -too deep for speech. Did you ever drop a pebble into a well to sound -its depth? If it is shallow, you hear it when it strikes the bottom. -But if you wait and never hear a sound, you know it is very deep.” - -Her sweet, low laugh rippled out over the waters. - -“Your laugh is like that of a child in a happy dream. I hope it will -always keep that sound.” - -Straining her to him a moment, he then put his hands to his face to -shut out the dangerous sweetness. - -“Nobody but you will ever understand what my nature is, because they -have never so nearly felt it.” - -“That’s true,” he said, “the only difference is that I know what is -best for us and what is not.” - -“To make music, one must have genuine feeling for it; that is true of -love. There has always been a sympathy between us, but never before so -deep as now. The greater the love, you know, the stronger the sympathy. -Natures so well tempered, so sympathetically adapted, very seldom can -endure; neither can afford to indulge in the beauty of one he loves, -for he may lose his own seekings in sharing hers. Ideal love is not to -be satisfied.” - -He said this with such an expression of grief and sentiment that no one -could doubt his belief in his own philosophy. - -This was life indeed. If he could only hold it forever. He wanted to--he -longed to--might he not desecrate this beautiful soul, by intruding his -upon it for so short a time? - -A sudden chill went through him. The horror of their ideals being -endangered made him draw back. He had never entirely lost sight of the -delicacy and nobility of the relation. He was her friend--her protector. - -Slightly moving his position, he said: “Esther, what is sweeter than -comprehensive sympathy? Each knows the other’s highest aims and hopes, -and each tries to help the other reach and preserve those ideals. There -is something beautiful, noble in the endeavor to sustain the ideals of -one we love, even though they should not always succeed.” - -“I believe that. The desire, the effort--shouldn’t that go for -something?” - -“I think so, but will you always think it?” - -“I hope I shall.” - -As they anchored alongside the bank, Glenn held out his hand to help -her; her cheeks were in bloom with life, and he was going home rested, -with all his senses and passions much keener and many degrees finer in -their possibilities. - -“We have had a day of delicious happiness, we should be thankful for -that,” he said. “In a whole life there are but a few days in which we -really live--we only exist most of the time,” lowering his voice and -looking into her sweet eyes. - -“To be wholly happy is to forget the world and one’s obligations -to it.” There was almost a caress in the way Glenn took out his -handkerchief and lightly brushed the drops of water from her skirt. In -putting the handkerchief back he touched the pretty trifle--a souvenir -to recall her twenty-first birthday. Twirling it between his fingers he -said: - -“This is for you. Wear it for the sake of the man who became a boy and -learned what May meant.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -GLENN knew now that he had been mistaken. The heart he had tended drew -all its life still from him. His knowledge of men and women was great. -He could not deceive himself. Nature demanded a climax. He must advance -or retreat. He realized that he was coming to love her too well--in a -sweeter, nearer way. They were to each other now more of a necessity -than an inspirational force. He must go away--it was best: for their -art, for their peace of mind. It was some time before he could tell -her this. He could no longer trust himself to be tender with her. He -dared not risk himself; he was not equal to it. It seemed to him their -companionship was never so beautiful as now when he was about to break -it. He was testing his strength and asking his own soul if it were fit -for the work and the awful sacrifice. It was during a short interview -that he found courage to tell her how his doctor had advised a change -of scene and air. A sea voyage, with perhaps a year abroad; possibly -Egypt--personally he hardly expected to get beyond the old yellow city -of his youthful escapades--Paris, where the aromatic breath of absinthe -had tinged the air. There would be no strain then. She knew what it -meant. She knew it was not for his health alone that he was putting the -sea between them. - -“It may be just what you need to strengthen you. In travel I fancy you -will find oceans of material for penwork and gulfs of inspiration. And -in Paris, that you have learned to love, you might know real life and -real joy.” The words cost her an effort, but they were bravely said. - -Richmond Briarley sat in his office alone that night. He had just -opened his safe and from a package of legal documents drawn a paper -which he unfolded and read, a note secured by mortgage, now past due. -At the bottom it was signed by the husband and wife. “Albert Winston -and Mildred Hughes Winston.” His lips clamped, the circular wrinkles -deepened round his mouth. When he first knew Mildred Hughes he was very -young and poorer than he was young. He had gone away and left her to -this man, who was well launched, expecting her to escape the hardships -of the poor. In time he would forget her. He remembered how he had told -her so and left her--that day was more to him than all the rest of his -life. It was full of her. “Forgetfulness!” He had never learned the -meaning of the word. With one swift survey of the room, he slowly tore -off the woman’s signature--this was the last remnant of a life that had -been lived. As someone opened the door his dream faded with the sound. -The next minute Glenn Andrews had come in, and was standing behind him. -He rose abruptly, closed the safe door, and hid the small paper in his -hand. “Hello, Andrews.” He held himself down to a semblance of calm. -“I thought it was about time that you blew in. What are you doing with -that grip?” - -“Taking it up to pack it,” he said, as he took out cigars for both. - -“Indeed! Are you really off? Are you romancing?” - -“Most of my romancing is set to the same notes--bank notes. It serves -that purpose well enough. I sail day after to-morrow,” he added, -carelessly. - -“So you are going to kick over the traces, eh? It’s lucky not to be -tied so that you couldn’t break away.” - -“New York becomes more and more intolerable every day, and I feel -that I must get out of it for awhile. I will still do some work on -the magazine, of course. Wait; give me a light.” Andrews took the -paper that Briarley had twisted and touched it to the gas jet above -his head. It went out before it reached the cigar. With a gesture of -impatience he looked around and found the matches. - -They smoked on, talking together for some time, Glenn toying with -the paper in his hand, carelessly rolling and unrolling it. He got a -glimpse of it, and said, quickly: “Look here,” passing it over. “Is -this of much importance? Maybe you have burned the wrong thing.” - -“Oh, no! That’s nothing,” Briarley answered, with an indifferent -gesture. “Albert Winston, the poor devil, is dead, and he died beaten. -One man has no business to take a mortgage on another’s home, anyhow. I -may be an unresponsive brute, but I couldn’t turn a woman and children -into the street.” His throat was dry as he turned his back and laid the -scorched paper over the flames. “We might as well finish it--let the -ashes settle it.” - -“Do you mean to say that Winston died in poverty?” Andrews asked, as he -got up to leave. - -“He hadn’t a dollar.” - -“Let me see; whom did he marry?” - -“Mildred Hughes,” Briarley hazarded, repeating her name calmly. - -“Oh, that’s so; I do remember her. Half the fellows at college were -daft about her. Winston’s money won her, they thought.” - -“Where are you off to, now?” asked Briarley. - -Andrews turned. “I’ve got the ends of a million threads to wind up -before I start.” - -“And some to break, no doubt.” - -“Let me hear from you occasionally,” Glenn said, as he grasped the -other’s hand, and felt like adding, “I have guessed your secret, -Briarley, my friend. Some men are heroes simply because they didn’t -marry.” - -“I’ll try to come down to see you off. But if I shouldn’t make it, -remember to get all you can out of life, my boy, and I wish you the -best of good luck.” - -Andrews looked worn, overworked. Richmond Briarley had hoped that -the returns from the opera would take some of the strain off of the -ambitious fellow--but the unfortunate affair with Stephen Kent had ended -that hope. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -FOR two weeks Esther had been at the seaside. She had grown pale and -tired from the ceaseless round of work and social play. This life -had glamour, had charm, but no contentment. Her pleasure in it was -not real. She entered it with the belief that it was sweet to love, -natural to trust. There was nothing in life but faith and love. She -was now in the midst of people who talked with a sceptical contempt of -all that she had held sacred. They laughed at her simple faith in the -old-fashioned morality taught her by cherished lips. - -Glenn Andrews could not leave without seeing her again. He had sent -her a message. In the afternoon of the last day he went down to the -seaside where she was stopping. The expression on his face was one of -unrelenting yet melancholy determination. She was not in, so he struck -across the sand and strolled along the beach until he found her. In -spite of the pain in her heart, her sensitive, proud face denied it. -There was a smile on her pale lips. - -“You’re about as hard to reach as the bag of gold at the rainbow’s -end,” Glenn said, “but I am glad to find that the other hunters have -not reached here. From stories that came back to town, you don’t often -escape all of your admirers at once. I am fortunate to find you alone.” - -“They are fairy stories that every girl has a right to be a heroine of -during the season.” - -“I ventured to ask you to be so good as to give me an hour, only -because I am going away so soon, and I may not see you again.” - -“Your ‘so’ is femininely unsatisfactory. That is the speech of a woman. -How soon is that?” - -He pointed across the water. “You see that ship? Just about this time -to-morrow, when the Majestic sails that way, you may know I am aboard -of her. I will wave you a farewell.” - -Esther felt a tremor run over her. She looked past him at the baffled -surf, as, white with rage, it sprang against the pier, retreating with -a roar, leaving a glimpse of the green sea stones beneath. - -“So soon as that?” she said, her eyes opening and closing convulsively. -“I must have been asleep; I didn’t realize that the time was so near.” - -“Time is a mule; it always takes the opposite gait from that which you -want it to take. This month has taken wings.” He gave a swift glance at -her. “And I expect the next one to crawl--that is, after the voyage. I -love the water.” - -“As the doctor thinks the sea air so good for you, why don’t you cruise -along the shores of France?” - -“I may,” hesitatingly he answered; a sense of guilt came over him at -the thought of his deception. - -“How long do you expect to be gone?” - -“I don’t know,” he said, absently; he knew this was not curiosity, but -personal concern; “it may be three months, or three years.” - -“Which do you expect it to be?” - -“I do not expect, because to do that is to rob one’s self of the -emotion of surprise, without which there is little pleasure in living.” - -“I don’t believe I could be surprised any more. I know how little there -is ahead. I have been arranging it all in my mind.” - -He looked seaward. “How’s that?” - -“Well, Mrs. Low goes home with her daughter.” Here she touched her -hands together impulsively. - -“You both are going; that leaves me alone.” - -“If thoughts count for anything, you will never be alone.” - -“How am I to know that?” - -“You have the word of Glenn Andrews,” he said quickly; “besides you -have a glorious future to look forward to. You have attained! What -happiness is there like unto it? Among the many desires of my heart, -the first is of your happiness, which I believe lies through your art. -I am proud for you. Let me have one comfort before we part. Promise me -that you will not disappoint me in my hopes for you. Your success has -come high.” - -“Well, your future, tell me of that and what your art has cost you.” - -“What I have suffered is too late to discuss. One can rate truly only -as far as one has gone. I cannot see as far ahead for myself as for my -friends.” - -“I can see for you.” She spoke slowly, and with difficulty. “Not only -perfect health, but laurels. I hope my little spot in your heart may -not be entirely shadowed by the lustre of that hour.” Her composure was -returning. “I shall miss you; I want you to know that I appreciate the -value of your friendship, of which I stood in need. You have helped me -by your fond belief in me.” - -He didn’t raise his head, but his hand. - -“Oh, I have done so little; don’t shame me. You have been taking care -of me instead. You have made my life richer--deeper--brought back some -of the old faith in my own ideals that was gradually being crushed out. -I can understand how men can be forced to such a height that falling -would seem too far and hard. I wish I could feel that I had brought -half the sunlight into your life as you have into mine.” - -“You have brought the most that will ever be there.” - -“Oh, don’t say that just as I am going; that kind of sun shines not -only through the senses, but through the soul. It will always shine if -you will only think so.” - -She bowed her head, the wide fringe of brown seaweed trembled under the -waves that ran up on the warm-hued sand. - -“And I am glad that we have had this year. With all its pain--it is -ours. Think of me sometimes when I am gone, Esther. Be good--by that I -mean, brave.” - -His voice broke. - -The tense strain of the moment was ended, as he bent forward. His heart -was in the kiss he left on her hair. He turned and walked quickly away -without looking back. - -In the darkness of her room, a young figure lay stricken with grief -across her bed, mourning the vision of her ideals that seemed gone -without fulfillment. In the morning when she heard the happy sound -of laughing voices the hopelessness of her bereavement came over her -afresh. She was alone in her sorrow and memories. She was so weak that -her body felt bruised, and her arms lay like a dead weight at her -side. Was her courage broken? She prayed a passionate prayer for the -poor, heartless women who had kept faith with virtue, and had not been -rewarded--who had scattered their broken ideals along the road that they -went, that all who followed must bleed and suffer. She reached out for -her violin; for a while she lay still with it in her arms. It was not -sufficient. She needed some human thing for companionship. Her soul -hated its bodily enthrallment--she would fly out of it--she must. With a -supreme effort she raised herself, and faced the mirror. Her wide, dim -eyes looked out at her in pity. Then from her window she saw a steamer -going out. It was time for the Majestic that was to take Glenn Andrews -out of New York--out of her life. The two loves of her life--they must -die together. Suddenly grasping the neck of her violin, she struck it -against the side of the bed and shattered the exquisite thing. She fell -back prostrate, and there for weeks she lay between this life and the -eternal. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -GLENN ANDREWS went to France, to Moret-sur-Loing, an old cathedral -town, thinly peopled, on the skirts of the forest of Fontainbleu. -It was secluded and out of the way. Here he would lead a quiet life -of study and work. This was his delight. A poet-soul living in the -pursuit, not possession of the ideal. He had taken up his abode in -a little, old inn. Away from the world and yet so near it. This was -a beautiful country; the sight of it did his spirit good. He loved -the hills and valleys and streams. On one side the ruins of an old -Keep belting him, and on the other, the mills with long rows of deep -windows, from which the workers looked out upon the sunshine and their -homes. The small mill-houses nestled low in the leaves. - -One day, returning late from a long walk, Glenn passed a peasant -mother, poorly clothed, seated in her doorway; her child was sitting by -with its hands about its knees. She kept pointing to the path that led -to the mill. She was evidently looking for some one. Soon a man came in -sight. A glow lit in the sombre eyes of the mother, and a smile leaped -from her haggard face to the weary man, who suddenly straightened his -drooping shoulders. There was something besides pain and work in the -world, and they had found it. He took the child in his arms, tossing it -up and letting it fall back again--this human miniature of their love -and youth. Many a day, Glenn strolled at evening to see their meeting -when the father came home from the mill. It rested him. He became -absorbed in his work, reading the proof of the third book that was to -add something to, or take from, the name of the lyrical poet. - -It was not long until he heard of Esther’s illness. It gave him a stab -of remorse and distressed him sorely. Had he, who had nurtured her soul -so carefully, injured it more deeply than the careless world? He who -had enthralled her childhood, steadfastly guided her girlhood--in whose -woman’s destiny he had played so fatal a part. Here the pathos and the -irony were strangely interwoven. Would it have been better had she -never known the broader, fuller world? Had she now been living away her -life contentedly in the dark? These questions came between him and his -work. As he gazed dreamily out, the leaves were swaying carelessly. A -vision of the dependent, lovely girl overwhelmed him. In the wind he -seemed to hear Esther’s voice--all the youth and laughter gone out of -it. It was not like that day when he held her face between his hands -and gave her the kiss of love. He sighed for the virginal softness of -her tremulous lips. The wind went wandering along the wood’s green -edge, like a miserable thing, offering no consolation. From his -meditation came like an accusing ghost the realization that there is -but one true aim in life--to seek and find the soul’s complement. He had -sought. He had found, but he had sacrificed. The spiritual need of his -soul had been set aside. For what? An agony of yearning welled up in -his heart--a yearning for the sense of her sweet presence which thrilled -him with a joy of pain. The best of love they had missed--the supreme -surrender. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -ESTHER’S health was returning, and with it her strength. Her pride -and her spirit, both, were fired. There was one thing left to her in -her grief--concealment. She bound this thought to her heart, and held -it close--so close. She was a soldier’s daughter, and came of a stock -whose fortitude in defeat had been even more splendid than their valor -in war. To her the secret of love had been harshly told, but she would -hear it with courage. In the swiftest current of destiny, she would -show her womanly strength. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -“YOU will wonder at seeing this letter from me,” Glenn wrote to Esther, -“for it will not be a usual one--not at all the sort of letter you -have been accustomed to receiving from me. Perhaps it is that I have -changed--greatly changed from that old self you knew--most of all -changed from what I used to be to you. I can see you now as you looked -to me that afternoon at Indian Well, when I first spoke to you. You -touched me so closely then--so nearly--and you were such a child. - -“All through that first year I think you could never have guessed -how much the blossoming of that little wild heart of yours meant to -me. I watched it from day to day, from month to month, so closely. -Maybe I watered it some, and pulled some of the weeds that might have -crowded its roots. I hope so. You were a child then and I a man, yet -I had been a man without a passion. I thought much in those days, and -dreamed that I knew myself. Achievement was my god. I told myself that -my interest in you was the interest of the philosopher--the master--and -I watched your mind unfold with a curious delight. I know now, dear, -that it was a far different feeling from that--one that went far deeper -and meant much more to me, even when I would not admit it to myself. It -is to his own heart last of all that a man admits his own error. And -yet, as I look back at it now, I think that I meant to be honest with -myself. When you came to the city and I saw the wondrous woman that -had grown--when I saw your flower heart--still the heart of the child in -all that was sweet and innocent--turning more and more towards me for -its sun--it waked something new within me. I saw the problem. I felt -your dependence grow each day stronger. You leaned upon me so that -I thought sometimes I could feel every throb of your heart. You were -achieving. Your art was growing. Your genius was lifting. You were -coming nearer and nearer to the ideal that I had imagined for you. -When such a development has become the great and absorbing passion of -a man’s life, I cannot express to you how haunting becomes the fear -of disappointment, how terrible the jealousy of circumstance that may -step between him and its fulfillment. You had beautiful ideals--such as -I have had--and they had grown a part of you. To lose them would have -ashed the ember; it would have deadened the quick sensibilities and -wounded that soul-instinct of yours in which your music lived. And when -I saw these ideals dependent upon me--upon my presence--upon the -sympathy of mine, which I could not have denied if I had tried--I stood -by them and you. Dear, the soul of a woman is a wonderful thing. It will -not bear experiment. Yours was like a sensitive plant that cannot bear -the light, and sheds its loveliest perfume in the dark. So I tried to -give it the darkness--to cloud the glare of hollowness that was in our -world--to let the light in slowly and only when the leaves were strong -enough to bear it. All this time I could not help but see that when I -went from you the shock would be great. My philosophy taught me the -penalty of emotion, and I thought I had much to do in the world. I -dreamed of work that would absorb me utterly--that would take the best -that was in me, of feeling and of effort. All my life I had denied -myself the passion that my eyes told me was growing in you. I had grown -to consider myself apart from others--a mental solitary who had locked -the door of his heart because he had work to do. It had not occurred -to me that the Juggernaut whose rumbling wheels I would not hear might -crush you. It was the concert at the Metropolitan that opened my -eyes. I knew then that your art and your heart had twined together so -intimately that if one were cut, the other would bleed. I knew then -that I must either go or stay, that if I became a stronger part of you -my going would be fatal to your own achievement and to mine. Dear, it -was not all selfishness--this resolve of mine. You will never know what -it meant to me to tear up the roots that had grown in spite of me: it -was like tearing the flesh and leaving it quivering. But that I could -have borne if it left you better able to go on. I did not know then -what I know now. I blame myself that I did not read truer. The news of -your breakdown and the giving up of your music came to me like a blow -in the dark. In showing me yours, it has shown me my own heart. The -depths of my self-condemnation have taught me myself. It has taught me -that achievement is a pitiful thing compared with a woman’s love--that -your happiness means more to me--a thousand times more--than success: -that I love you--I love you--utterly and wholly--and that I want you to -be my wife. The future is impossible to me without you. Each day since -I saw you, your step has been in every sound. Each night your face -has been my vision. Here from my window I can see a little knoll on -which is a cross, where the peasants go to pray to the patron saint of -the village. It is ugly, and battered, and old, but it has come to be -beautiful to me, for I know now what they are praying for. The hills -are gold with the grain, and a little winding path runs down toward my -eyrie. I can almost imagine you coming down it now to meet me, with -your dear face raised to my window--” - -As Glenn finished the page, the boy tapped at the little door with -the daily mail, and he reached out an indifferent hand to take it. A -familiar flourish caught his eye, and, recognizing Richmond Briarley’s -penmanship, he opened a bulky envelope. A card, closely written, and a -small book met his gaze. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - - “MY young Idealist, I send you a clever story, one which shows - remarkable talent, and which you really must read. There is, or was, - once upon a time in this town, another consummate young Idealist like - yourself, but of the female persuasion; a protegé of yours who - fiddled. She, I remember, believed in a few things; among others, - that there was a little to be considered besides art, and that she - had a lump somewhere which she called a heart. You have always been - troubled with the same feature, I believe. - - “The lady has just issued a story, which I send you to-day. Just take - a look at it and find me that lump, will you? Cold as an icicle! By - the way, I understand that the lady in question was quite a social - success here in our city, and very much sought after in drawing rooms, - in which she earned about her own price. She has come to the - philosophical conclusion that you used to uphold: which is, that as - long as a person _does_, it don’t much matter what a person _feels_. - Anyway, she is doing it; and I take it from this novel that she is - not feeling much either. - - “Yours, Briarley.” - -Glenn read the letter with a curious shock, and opened the novelette. -As he finished the last page and laid it down on the table beside -him--this story with the heart of a stone--he sat looking out the window -with a daze of anguish in his eyes. His hands were supporting his -bearded chin. Without, the splendid sunset, the gilding flame of which -caused his features to shine resplendently. His sad, wistful face, -convulsed with emotion. What a tumult of silent, unspeakable memories; -what feelings of regret and longing! Instinct does not always point the -truth. No suspicion of the brave ruse of Esther came to him now--no -apprehension of the hurt pride whose strain of revolt forced from her -this literary lie. He had been driven blindly on by his yearning for -the more perfect art. He didn’t care for laurels now, nor for that art -for whose sake he had destroyed the best thing in his life. Was ever -heart-break more cruel? He sat for an hour in silence. The sunset had -lost its beauty. The grain on the hills had lost its gold. He took -the letter he had been writing to Esther, tore it up, and flung the -fragments of what, if he had known, was the best of his life, out the -window. A lazy breeze caught them up and scattered them. A single one -with the word “love” on it was blown back and settled slowly in his -hat. A bell was ringing for compline. He saw the peasants in their -simple devotion going slowly to worship. He took his hat and walked -across the street to the little café. There two comrades called him -over to have a bottle of wine with them. - -“Ah, poet!” one said, laughing as he reached over and took the stray -bit of paper that lay on his hair. “Still the philosopher! Making love -with your head?” - -“You’re wrong, this time, it was from the heart,” and Glenn Andrews -forced the shadow of a smile into his lips. - - -THE END. - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - -Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetters’ errors in -spelling and punctuation. - -No changes have been made to dialect. - -Some variant spellings have been retained. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AS THE HART PANTETH *** - -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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 will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/68207-0.zip b/old/68207-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0fe113a..0000000 --- a/old/68207-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68207-h.zip b/old/68207-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5ed3458..0000000 --- a/old/68207-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68207-h/68207-h.htm b/old/68207-h/68207-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 43bf974..0000000 --- a/old/68207-h/68207-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6469 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - As the Hart Panteth, by Hallie Erminie Rives.—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%;} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both;} - -p { margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent: 1.5em;} - -.no-indent {text-indent: 0;} - -.ph1 {text-align: center; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .49em; - font-size: xx-large; - font-weight: bold; - text-indent: 0;} - -.ph2 {text-align: center; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .49em; - font-size: x-large; - font-weight: bold; - text-indent: 0;} - -.ph3 {text-align: center; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .49em; - font-size: large; - font-weight: bold; - text-indent: 0;} - -.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} - -.p6b {margin-bottom: 6em;} - -hr {width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both;} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} -h3.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto;} - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right; - margin-right: 5%;} - -.smaller {font-size: 85%;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%;} - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} -/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ -.poetry {display: inline-block;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; - margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%;} - -/* Poetry indents */ -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} -.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} -.poetry .indent6 {text-indent: 0em;} - -.x-ebookmaker-drop .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.x-ebookmaker .figcenter {width:100%} - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of As the hart panteth, by Hallie Erminie Rives</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: As the hart panteth</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Hallie Erminie Rives</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 30, 2022 [eBook #68207]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by University of California libraries)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AS THE HART PANTETH ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide" style="width: 35%"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1>AS THE HART PANTETH</h1> - -<p class="ph3 p6b"><small>BY</small><br /> -HALLIE ERMINIE RIVES.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 65px;"> -<img src="images/i_logo.jpg" width="65" alt="Publishers Logo" /></div> - -<p class="p6 center no-indent">NEW YORK:<br /> -<small>COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY</small><br /> -<i>G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers</i>,</p> - -<p class="center no-indent">MDCCCXCVIII.<br /> -[<i>All rights reserved.</i>]</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center">TO<br /> -<br /> -A MEMORY.</p></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2 nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</p> -</div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="3" summary="CONTENTS"> - -<tr><td> </td> -<td class="tdc smaller">PAGE</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">THE CHILD</td> -<td class="tdl"> </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">THE GIRL</td> -<td class="tdl"> </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl">THE WOMAN</td> -<td class="tdl"> </td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> -<p class="ph1 center no-indent" id="AS_THE_HART_PANTETH">AS THE HART PANTETH.</p> -</div> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CHILD">THE CHILD.</h2> - -<p class="center no-indent">————◆————</p> -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">He</span> sat just outside the lofty doorway, that -opened between the bare hall and front verandah. -The great white columns held a wild clematis -vine, the leaves of which almost concealed -the bricks where the plaster had fallen off. Presently -a child came out with a violin in her hand. -She went up to him, and laying her full cheek -against his shrunken one, caressed him. Her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> -blue eyes that went black in an instant, from the -pupils’ swift dilation, had the direct gaze of one -knowing nothing of the world and never fearing -to be misunderstood. She was slim yet strong; -her waving hair that fell softly about her face was -the color of sunburnt cornsilk, her skin ovalling -from it, smooth and white, like a bursting magnolia -bud.</p> - -<p>“Grandpa, I can play ‘The Mocking Bird’ for -you now.”</p> - -<p>“Play it, God’s child; play it,” he said.</p> - -<p>As she leaned against the column and began -playing, his face, old and worn with many griefs, -seemed, for a moment, rejuvenated by the spirit -of his lost youth. His heart stirred strangely -within him, and he was minded of another slim, -little girl, who came down to the gate to meet -him when the day was done in the long ago. -She had the same glorious hair, and tender, fearless -eyes and love for him. But that was more -than forty years gone by and she was dead.</p> - -<p>As the strains became fuller and sweeter, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> -bird began twittering, trilling among the leaves, -imitating the sounds it heard.</p> - -<p>“Listen. Do you hear that, Esther?” whispering, -as he searched for a sight of the singer. -“There it is. It’s a mocking bird,” he said, -pointing to the young thing, as the fluting -feathers on its throat stood out like the pipes of -an organ. Its song, accompanying the tune, -never ceased until the violin was tossed upon the -bench and the child was in the old man’s arms.</p> - -<p>“That was beautiful, beautiful!” His eyes were -filled with tears of enthusiasm that fell upon her -hair.</p> - -<p>“Your mother used to play that, when she was -young.” He spoke with the weight of profound -emotion, that glowed in his eyes, and quivered -on his lips.</p> - -<p>“And did the bird sing with her?” a softer -look coming upon the childish face.</p> - -<p>“I don’t remember that it did, though she was -always a friend to the birds that built their nests -about us. She kept the boys from breaking them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> -up or trapping them. Every spring they sang -here in the trees. They seemed to know that she -was looking after them. That must have been -what she was born for. She was always watching -over something or somebody.” He swallowed -hard. “I can see her now, bending over her -work, late at night, stitching away, with her fingers -on those gray clothes for the boys in the -army—your Uncle Billy and your father.”</p> - -<p>“Was she little, then?” Esther inquired, while -with one hand she clasped his wrist, and with the -other stroked his brow.</p> - -<p>“No. When the war broke out, she was just -about to be married to your father, who had been -appointed Captain under General Lee. She made -a coat for him and quilted money in the collar. -She had a way of doing things that nobody would -have thought of. You remind me of her.” He -folded his hands across his stick and was silent -for a moment. “There is much about her life -that I want you to know, and bear in mind, now -that you are getting old enough to understand.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> -She had great hopes for you, for your music. -I’ve been thinking how proud she would be if she -could know that you had got along well enough -to be invited to play at the University—on commencement -night at that. I ask nothing higher -for you than that you make such a woman as -your mother.”</p> - -<p>They did not see the old negro, ragged to the -skin, coming around the corner of the house, carrying -his discolored straw hat in one hand and -mopping his face on a faded cotton handkerchief.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.</h3> -</div> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">G’mornin’</span>, Marse Hardin.”</p> - -<p>“Howdy, Sandy. Where did you come from? -I thought you’d gone clear out of the country, -for good.”</p> - -<p>“Nor sir, nor sir. You jes’ let a nigger git a -taste of dis here spring water, and he’s charmed, -conjured, he kyant stay away if he do go. But -I come back, dis time, to see my young marster—Marse -Davy Pool.”</p> - -<p>“How is he to-day?”</p> - -<p>“He daid. Dat’s what I was sent to tell you. -Dey guinter bury him up at de old place.”</p> - -<p>“I am sorry to hear of his death, Sandy. He -was the best one of the boys.”</p> - -<p>“Dat’s so, sir; ’tain’t nobody guine to miss him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> -like his mammy do. She’s told me to ax you for -your hoss and buggy. She’s afeared of the boys’ -hosses, dey keep such wild uns. Marse Davy -sold his’n, dat was the onliest one she would ride -behind. She said she wanted Marse Hardin -Campbell’s. It was so trusty and gentlelike.”</p> - -<p>“I was going to use it after dinner.” Mr. -Campbell hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Send it on, grandpa. Send it on.” Esther -saw the inquiring look her grandfather turned -upon her. “Something will turn up.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose it shouldn’t; would you be disappointed?” -he asked.</p> - -<p>“I never count on being disappointed,” she -responded, quickly.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t she some kin to Miss Mary Campbell?” -The negro’s face lighted as he asked the question.</p> - -<p>“That’s her daughter, Miss Esther Powel.”</p> - -<p>“It ’peared to me like I seed de favor in her -face. Ev’ybody loved your mammy, honey.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> -’Twarn’ nobody that didn’t,” he said, turning to -look again at Esther.</p> - -<p>“The horse is in the pasture.” Mr. Campbell -turned to the child. “Can’t you run and show -him where the bridle is?” Bareheaded, she -bounded down the steps, and motioned to the old -negro to follow. She took the bridle and swung -it over his arm. “Mind the foot log. Uncle Sandy, -the hand rail has been washed away. The -pasture is over the creek. There is Selam now, -under the sweet gum tree.” She pointed. “You -will find the harness in the carriage house here.”</p> - -<p>She watched him go over the slope to the -creek, then stood gazing about her in childish -contemplation. It was nearly noon. The -shadow straightening in the doorway indicated -it.</p> - -<p>Mr. Campbell looked and saw her. His heart -warmed toward her comeliness; moreover she -was sweet of nature and had a ready smile even -for those who had not been kind to her. Suddenly -she disappeared in the direction of the carriage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> -house. She feared that her pony could not pull -the heavy vehicle that alone was left to take her -to the University. It taxed her strength to draw -the heavy bar from across the carriage house -door. She sprang backward, as she dropped it -upon the ground; then went in to examine the -carriage that had not been used since she was a -baby, almost fifteen years before. The clumsy -conveyance had small iron steps that let down—steps -that her mother’s child feet had pressed in -climbing to the seat. The wheels were so heavy -and cumbersome that she shook her head doubtfully. -The green satin lining was in shreds; the -worn leather seats covered with tufts of hair, -while here and there a dead leaf or twig was -tangled in its coarse mesh. It had required a -pair to draw it in those old days. She had forgotten -that. The tongue was held up in its position -above by a girder in the loft. Esther gave -it a strong, hard pull; the tongue fell forward, -and as she skipped out of its path the lumbering -old carriage went rolling down the incline, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> -clouds of dust, as though indignant at being disturbed, -sullenly rose and fell about her.</p> - -<p>Old and dilapidated harness that hung down -from the walls swayed slowly in the general commotion. -Esther wiped the dust from her eyes and -drew a long breath, looking defiantly at the result. -She looked down. There, at her feet, lay -a bird, fluttering beside its fallen nest. Her face -lost its look of defiance.</p> - -<p>“You poor, little thing,” bending down and -cuddling it to the softness of her cheek. “Don’t -die, please, don’t die!” she said, in dismay. “It -will break my heart if I have killed you.” With -tears streaming down her face she ran swiftly -to the house.</p> - -<p>“Grandpa, do something for it,” laying it in his -hand. “Can you save it? It’s a mocking bird, -too. I shook it out of the carriage.”</p> - -<p>“They have nested there for years,” he said as -he drew the wings gently through his fingers. -“They are not broken,” he assured her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> - -<p>“Are you sure it will live?” She was looking at -him with frightened eyes.</p> - -<p>“Live? Yes; and have a nest and young ones -of its own next year. It is only stunned. Leave -it in the parlor where it will be safe from the -cats and it will be all right soon.”</p> - -<p>A faint rumbling noise broke in upon their -voices. They looked up to listen. It was like -the sound of a wagon rolling. “Put it away, -quick, and run to the creek to show them how to -cross the ford.” They had kept close watch over -the passers since the winter hauling had cut deep -holes in the bed of the stream. It was a treacherous -crossing. Closing the door upon her charge, -Esther ran through the garden, the nearest way. -She sped with the lithe agility of a young fawn, -and before the newcomer was fairly into the -stream she was there giving directions. The -mountain stream ran fleet between its low banks, -winding in haste through the valley. Tall sycamores, -sentinels in silver armor, stood beside it -on either hand.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Campbell</span> stood watching. Very soon -the front gate opened and a boy came in, driving -two white mules, with red tassels on their bridle -bits. Amazement filled his eyes when he saw -that it was a wagon load of coffins, and on the -topmost one Esther sat smiling. As they drove -up near the door, he went out to help her down.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t I tell you something would turn up, -grandpa; this wagon is going right by the University -this evening.” She threw her arms about -his neck; her laugh rang out in pure triumph. -“Hitch your team, young man; a boy will come -to take it out and feed it.” When they saw -Esther again she was ready for her jaunt. Her -violin was in its case; her fresh white organdie<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> -folded with as much care as she gave to anything—duty -and care were unknown to her. Her -visit to the University by such a conveyance -would be the extreme limit of indulgence, yet -she had no thought of being denied.</p> - -<p>“I am ready,” she announced at table. Mr. -Campbell burst into a laugh, half of annoyance, -yet touched with the ring of true amusement.</p> - -<p>“I really believe you would go.”</p> - -<p>“I’d go on foot if necessary to keep my promise,” -she answered quickly.</p> - -<p>“How could the college folks know that Mr. -David Pool had to be buried to-day when they -printed my name on the programme?”</p> - -<p>Watching her eyes, he caught their softness, -their innocence, and knew that her eagerness -was sincere.</p> - -<p>“Let her go, Mr. Campbell, I’ll take good -care of her.” The boy was a Rudd. Although -he held a lowly position, he was not counted of -the common people. Mr. Campbell had the old -Virginia pride of race in him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p> - -<p>“I know you would.”</p> - -<p>Esther looked steadily into his gray eyes and -saw a relenting twinkle.</p> - -<p>“Am I going?” Turning to her with a quiet -smile: “Yes, you may go.” He could not see her -disappointed when her heart was so determined. -With a little cry of joy she brought her hands together. -“I wish you could come along, grandpa. -It will be such fun, and I wanted you to hear me -to-night.” When the wagon came around Esther -was helped up with her case and bundle. Her -violin she held tenderly across her arm. Mr. -Campbell went with them to close the gate.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye; you will be in for me to-morrow.” -Leaning down, she embraced his head. “Be -sweet, God’s child,” he said, as they drove off. -Esther kissed her hand to him, as he stood by -the roadside looking after them. The cook, at -the kitchen door, waved her dish rag for a frantic -moment. The whirl of dust from the wheels -soon clouded the view. The old man turned,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> -and went slowly back to the house with a misty -smile over his features.</p> - -<p>A quaint, pathetic figure that, of Hardin -Campbell, with his age, his poverty and the care -of this child. Here had once been planter life -in its carelessness and lavishness. It had been -the home of friend and neighbor and the hospitable -shelter of the transient guest. All the -grand folk that came that way made this place -headquarters in the days when Mr. Campbell was -reckoned rich. But what he had lost in wealth -he had more than gained in pride, and the child -was brimming over with it. Generous, impetuous, -enthusiastic, as she was, this wild young -creature of nature, unhindered, venturesome and -full of whims, would, he hoped, find pride her -safeguard. He did not believe in curbing her. -He guided, but did not limit her and tried to keep -from her all warping influences. This was the -way her mother had begun with her and he was -only continuing her way for a while—it could -not be very long before he would have to resign<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> -his charge. To whom—he did not know and -could not bear to dwell upon the thought.</p> - -<p>About the whole place there was evidence of -departed glory. In the great white buildings -which rose from the labyrinth of shrubbery like -grim ghosts of the past; in the rows of cabins, -formerly the dwellings of a horde of happy-hearted -negroes, everywhere was evidence of the -bygone prodigal days. The house, of colonial -style, with its series of tall columns standing -about the broad colonnade, was partially screened -by the live oaks and was set some distance back -from the big road. These encircling columns -were built of brick, with a coating of plaster, -once as white as the teeth of Uncle Simon, the -plantation white-washer, who in former days -would put an immaculate dress on them regularly -once a month by means of an elevated step-ladder, -but now Uncle Simon’s labors were done. -The neglected columns were crumbling with age -and sadly splotched with the red of exposed -masonry. At one side of the verandah there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -spread the delicate green of the star-jassamine, -with its miniature constellations flecking the -background. Through the vista, leading to the -house, from the big gate in front, flashed the -crimson of a flowering-pear in full blossom. The -blinds of the house that had once been green, -were now hanging from their hinges, weather-stained, -giving full view of a number of broken -window panes, in one of which, on the second -story, was perched a wren, whose energetic chattering -over her nest hardby was the most decided -indication of active life.</p> - -<p>In the rear of the buildings stretched the -cabins. To the right of them were the stables -and the carriage house, with its weather vane of -a flying steed on the top, but for years the most -vigorous gales had failed to spur this steed to -action and its tail, at one time proudly aflaunt -to the breeze, had yielded to time and rust, and, -like that of Tam o’Shanter’s mare, knew naught -of direction. There was the dreary stillness of -desolation over all things. But still a hospitable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> -glow was in the summer sunshine and shone as -well in the eyes of the old master.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Esther took off her hat when she got into the -depths of the woods and drew out her violin. “I -will amuse the boy,” she thought, “if I play to -him,” for she had tired of talking against the -rumbling of the wagon and its load. In his way, -he appreciated her motive, for now and again he -called back to her, awkwardly commending her, -and urging her to continue. Near the spring -they saw the negro washerwomen, with sleeves -rolled to their shining shoulders, bending over -their tubs; faded, limp skirts, bloused through -apron belts, and dangled about their bare legs. -A big wash kettle heaped with white linen stood -to one side. Around it a fire was burning low -for want of fuel.</p> - -<p>“O—o—h! Yo’ Tagger, Tag-g-e-r; you’d better -come on here, ef you know what’s good for -you,” called one of the women with a long, resounding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> -echo that drowned the answer of the -small voice that said he was on his way. A troop -of little niggers came to the roadside pulling a -wagon load of brush and bark gathered through -the woods. They looked back and spied Esther -on the coffins. With a wild yell the children, -load and all, tumbled over the embankment, -rolling over each other in the dust, screaming, -“Mammy! mammy!” at the top of their voices, -scrambling to their feet and running with might -and main down the road. As Esther drew up to -the wash-place, the little fellows were clinging -frantically to the knees of their mothers.</p> - -<p>“It’s a little ha’nt blowin’ Gabel’s trumpet. -Don’t let it ketch me! don’t let it ketch me!”</p> - -<p>“In de name ob de Lawd!” said one of the -women, seeing what had caused the fright; “ain’t -you all got de sense you was born wid? Don’t -you know Miss Esther Powel, Marse Hardin’s -granddaughter?” The eyes of the pickaninnies -were blinded by the wads of wet aprons they had -covered them with, and the sound of the wheels<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> -filled them with terror. “Dry up!” The big -dripping hand pounded on their heads. “Scuse -’em, Miss Esther, you’d think dese youngun’s -been fotch up wid wild injun’s.”</p> - -<p>“Tagger,” Esther called the boy, whose name, -Montague, she had been responsible for. “Don’t -you know me? I played for you to dance a jig -for the young men who used to visit Will Curtis -before he died. You haven’t forgotten that, have -you?” Hearing her familiar voice, he slowly -peeped out with scared eyes.</p> - -<p>“You little monkey. Dip me some water -out of the spring.” She saw a long, yellow -gourd hanging from a striped bough above their -heads. “I want a drink.” He sprang up and -snatched the gourd, and before she could say -more, he was holding it up to her, standing on -his tiptoes, grinning, as the tears ran down and -stained his dusty face.</p> - -<p>“I am going to play at the University to-night,” -she said, hanging back the gourd.</p> - -<p>“You don’ say? One of dem ’Varsity gemmen’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> -coming out to see Marse Will’s folks next -week.” Tagger’s mother lived with the Curtises, -whose home was just beyond the spring. “I’ll be -bound, you beat ’em all dar if you does play -to-night,” she said when she saw they were leaving.</p> - -<p>Bareheaded, Esther rode on, as long as the -shade was over them, tying on her hat only when -they got to the sunny way of the road. A man -plowing in a cornfield, looked up as he stopped -at the turn of the row. He gazed intently, rapping -the line mechanically about his wrist.</p> - -<p>“What is her grandpa thinking of?” seeing it -was Esther, whom he knew. “But she’d a gone -in spite of hell and high water.” With this aloud -to himself, he drew his shirt sleeve across the -sweat on his brow and trudged back down the -row, relieved.</p> - -<p>After two hours or more, through the heat, -Esther was glad when at last she could see the -end of her journey. The sunlight lay radiant upon -the stretch of country famed for this honored<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> -institution of learning. Just before her, upon an -eminence, spread the University buildings, the -tall spires marking their profile on the sky. The -sun’s rays shot up behind them its last warm -flashes. Its heat had already dampened Esther’s -hair, deepening the red tint of its waves against -her temples. The campus was alive with students -coming and going in every direction. The -tenor of the glee club, in his striped sweater of -the college colors, humming a popular air, -walked leisurely across to where one fellow was -sprawled on the ground, gazing at the wagon -with an amused curiosity on his handsome face.</p> - -<p>“By Jupiter! that’s a pretty child.” The tenor -turned to look, as his friend spoke.</p> - -<p>“Well, if that isn’t a caper! Wonder where she -is bound?” Just then a pert freshman, standing -in a group, gave a college yell. Then there was -a chorus of rapturous cheers, in which most of -them joined. Before the noise had subsided, the -man on the grass had leaped to his feet, full of indignation, -and dashed off toward the freshman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> - -<p>“Silence! you fellows! Have you forgotten -yourselves?” A few hisses were mingled with -the applause that greeted him, but the freshman -was quick to say at his elbow:</p> - -<p>“I didn’t mean it for her.”</p> - -<p>“How could she know that?” He walked away -saying: “I’ll wager there is something out of -the ordinary in that girl.”</p> - -<p>He was of the fiber that commanded the respect -of men at a glance.</p> - -<p>“Andrews always turns up at the right time, -you may count on that,” said one of the students -as he watched him sauntering in the direction of -the wagon, his eyes following the child. She was -perched like a white winged bird of good omen -on a funeral pyre. Only a nature adventurous to -audacity would do such a thing as that. But he -loved daring personalities, strong motives and -even a misadventure, if it were a brave one.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Glenn Andrews</span> was, by every gift of nature, -a man. His sensitive, expressive face, his -brown eyes glowing with a light that seemed to -come from within, his clear and resolute bearing, -all gave evidence of his sterling qualities. All -through his college years he was known among -his fellows as a dreamer. His was one of those -aloof—almost morbidly solitary natures, to -whom contact with the world would seem jarring -and out of key. The boys had nicknamed him -“Solitaire.” He had a womanly delicacy in morals, -his sense of honor was as clean and bright as -a soldier’s sword.</p> - -<p>Those who knew him well loved him, and all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> -of his school fellows sought for his notice, the -more, perhaps, because he gave it rarely.</p> - -<p>Whenever he played with them, it was as one -who unconsciously granted a favor. He was -looked upon as a man who would be a sharer in -the talents of his race. This was his ambition. -He had strong literary tastes and was a serious -worker.</p> - -<p>Often he champed at the bit through the slow -routine of college life—the genius within him -thirsting for action like a spirited horse, just in -sound of the chase.</p> - -<p>After the exercises that night, the pretty faces -and scent of roses filled the chapel with light and -fragrance. Everything was in warm confusion, -congratulations blended with tender farewells -and honest promises that youth was sure to -break.</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews, with the dignity that went -well with his cap and gown, was making his -way out. The tenor touched him on the shoulder.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p> - -<p>“What did you think of that violin solo?”</p> - -<p>“Fine, my boy, fine! She played just before -my turn, and she must have been my inspiration, -for I was surprised to get the medal.”</p> - -<p>“I’m jolly glad you got it anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“Did you find out who she was?”</p> - -<p>“Esther Powel. Her grandfather is a friend of -Professor Stark. He did it to give her a chance.”</p> - -<p>“Well she used it for all it was worth,” said -Andrews.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Esther</span> was standing by the rim of a clear -pool in the woods, gazing down into the water. -Her big hat was weighted with cockle blooms -that she had gathered in coming through the -wheat. In this natural mirror she could see that -a stem here was too long, another there was -turned the wrong way to look well. With both -hands to her head she was intent upon regulating -the effect to please her eye. Turning her head -first to one side, then another, she smiled at herself, -impulsive, always in motion, quick as a -wren. The water was so clear that one could see -the last year’s leaves lying at its depths. It was -deep and sloped toward the center. Inverted it -would look like a mound where children are told<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> -that Indians are buried, when the one can think -of no other excuse for its grave-like appearance. -This pool went by the name of “Indian Well.” -Esther had no thought but that she was alone, -until she saw an image, a serious young face, reflected -there, with soft, brown beard and hair, -and deep eyes that wore a languid, meditating -look. He stooped and dipped his curved hand -into the surface and was raising it to his lips. -Suddenly, instinctively, she bounded to his side, -dashing the water from his hands before he could -drink.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know there is fever in it?”</p> - -<p>For a moment he looked at her in wonder.</p> - -<p>“The fever,” he repeated, “what do you -mean?”</p> - -<p>“The germs of typhoid—I thought everybody -knew that.”</p> - -<p>“But you see I am not everybody,” he answered, -laughing.</p> - -<p>She looked at every feature of his face. “But -didn’t you feel like it the other night?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span></p> - -<p>This surprised him so that he had not made -an answer when she went on: “Everybody who -has died of typhoid fever around here drank -water out of ‘Indian Well.’ This is where they -got the germ.”</p> - -<p>“I was never here before. You are very good -to warn me.” He looked at her and she seemed -so sweet and beautiful as she stood there, between -him and danger. Whether real or imagined, -her motive was the same.</p> - -<p>“Is your home near by?”</p> - -<p>“I live with my grandpa in the white house on -the road as you came up.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t come by the road; I came through -by the wood-path from the Curtises. I’m spending -the summer there. What a pity this lovely -spot is poisoned, I am sorry; I might see you -here again but for that. It makes a pretty tryst,” -he said.</p> - -<p>“Sorry? Why? You don’t know me.”</p> - -<p>This pleased him. He had found a refreshing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -creature. At the outset he had thrilled at the -prospect.</p> - -<p>“Don’t I? You played once where I had the -pleasure of hearing you. Your name is Esther—Esther -Powel.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I have seen your face before I saw -it in the water. They called you ‘Glenn Andrews’ -when they gave you the medal.”</p> - -<p>She slowly looked him over from head to -foot, and smiled as if in a trance of joy. It was -all so wonderful, so strange—this hero’s coming.</p> - -<p>“But I am still ahead. You will never see me -win laurels again, perhaps, and I expect to hear -you play many times.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be sure. It’s no use for me to play. -People don’t seem to care whether they hear it -or not. I play for myself, because the sounds -from my violin seem to express what I feel.”</p> - -<p>“But suppose I care?”</p> - -<p>“Then I will play for you sometime, if we -should meet again.”</p> - -<p>“When could I get in your way?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span></p> - -<p>“Most any time.”</p> - -<p>“Will you be home all summer?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and winter, too.” She laughed at his -question.</p> - -<p>“Let us sit down and rest a while together. I -want to talk over the pleasure that is in store for -me.”</p> - -<p>Little did he think as she agreed, and they sat -down on an old log, how much in later life and -amidst different scenes, he was to lament that circumstance. -“I have always loved the country. -It is so true, so beautiful; I love it from the bottom -of my heart.”</p> - -<p>He lifted his face, drawing a deep breath; the -air was clean and sweet with the scent of growing -things.</p> - -<p>“Everything is beautiful that’s natural,” she -said, touching the beflowered hat. “I never even -wear ‘bought’ flowers, because they are only -make-believes. I hate anything that is not sure-enough.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p> - -<p>“It’s a pretty idea. I wondered where you -found this.”</p> - -<p>“Just made it.”</p> - -<p>She seemed to have grasped a good deal for -her years.</p> - -<p>“I see you have learned a way of your own -in your travels.”</p> - -<p>“Travels! I’ve never been out of this valley, -but I have grandpa and my mother and my -dreams.”</p> - -<p>“Your mother. I heard that your mother was -dead,” he said, quietly.</p> - -<p>“She isn’t as long as I am living,” was her -answer.</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews looked at her. There was wisdom -in the sentiment she expressed. All the -childishness had passed out of her face.</p> - -<p>He hesitated, astonished. “I believe that, in a -sense,” he said. “It is my theory of fulfillment. -What could spur us to higher destinies than the -belief that we were carrying out the hopes, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> -aims of someone we loved—perpetuating their -life through our own!”</p> - -<p>“She wanted me to be a musician,” Esther began -with a sudden dimness in her eyes. “She -was one until she had rheumatism in her arms. -I’ve strength and health to build on, something -she lacked. My mother was an invalid all her -life after I was born.”</p> - -<p>“Health is the most priceless gift in this -world.”</p> - -<p>For a time he forgot it was near the dinner -hour. He was caught by the witchery of the girl -and the place.</p> - -<p>He had expected to find nothing here but solitude -and shade. The adventure had been a delightful -surprise to him.</p> - -<p>As they got up from the log: “I shall expect -you to keep your promise about the music. Are -you going my way?”</p> - -<p>“No; mine is the opposite direction. I will -play for you any time because you want to hear -me. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews looked after her, as she went -her way. Here was a study—a promise. All his -life he had loved growth. Anything in the course -of development delighted and inspired him. He -struck off up the path that wound out of the -woods into the field.</p> - -<p>The scent of high summer was in the gold of -the wheat. Running his hands lightly over the -bearded sheaves he whistled an air that was to -recall neither the genius that wrote it nor the -hopes of his own work, but the face of Esther -Powel and the friendship thus begun, of which -he would never think lightly afterward.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Curtis home had an ample territory over -which extended eight large rooms and as many -half stories with dormer windows. The big mock -oranges locked antlers across the path that led -from the gate to the little square porch where -the wood bees droned in and out of the nests they -had bored in the wooden posts.</p> - -<p>Mr. Curtis was a jovial man, round of face, -short of stature, and given to hospitality. He -had been all his days faithful to that laborious -outdoor occupation—farming. In his old age -the prosperous impression that everything made -proved that he had filled his place to some account.</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews, who had been his son’s comrade<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> -in life, was an honored guest. His vacation, -usually spent in travel, had been claimed by the -lonely parents this time. He was promised all -manner of recreations and indulgences. They -hoped to send him back as hardy as an Indian, -his white face and hands bronzed as the leaves -in their turning. Broad hours and solitude. How -welcome they were to him! His place was sacred -in this house, and no one was allowed to disturb -or criticise him. He had set apart a few hours -each day for work. He could not devote all his -vacation to rest and pleasure. It was not his nature. -A memory of his strange, lonely boyhood -came to him with vivid distinctness, and the absolute -despair, he suffered at the possibility of -never being able to achieve greatness in the -world. He wanted to see good results in his life. -The whole intensity of his spirit was bent on that -one purpose. The world he would know, and the -men that live in it. His mind was full of daring -conceptions and ideals.</p> - -<p>A wild grace permeated his personality, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> -strong and delightful charm which was to make -him a conqueror.</p> - -<p>That morning Glenn ate breakfast with the -family by lamplight. He went back to his window -afterwards and watched the sun rise. At -this season of the year the beauty of Virginia -was at its height. He delighted from the first -in the splendid scenery and moody weather.</p> - -<p>A haze of purple mist was lifting slowly from -the mountains between whose heart the valleys -lay. The view was fresh with the lusty color of -midsummer. Exquisite perfumes, breath of -young corn and cut clover, came to him and grew -sharper and sweeter as the dawn opened wide. -In nature he could see the warm heart of life, -tender, strong and true. In the distance stretched -the wheat fields studded over with yellow shocks, -waiting for harvest-time. Later, as Glenn Andrews -passed out on his way to the woods, he -saw the lengthening of the table, the unusual hurry -among the servants, which was a sign that he -was to have dinner that day in a harvest home.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> -Wheat threshing time was on. This lover of the -sun, of long, wandering strolls, took the way he -had not been. It did not concern him much -which way he took to solitude. Wherever they -met they made friends—he and solitude. They -were so much alike. Their sympathies were so -much akin. Both were full of deep nature, dignity -and intense self-possession; they could not -but find comforting good-fellowship. With solitude -he could almost hear the voice of God, hear it -speaking, between him and his hopes. Returning, -he stopped at “Indian Well.” A long time he sat -there, face to face with his own heart and brain. -He made notes at times in a small book, which -he kept always with him. The class poet and -editor of the college magazine had a right to drop -into rhyme whenever he felt like it, even though -the indulgence might never be known to the -world. Glenn Andrews took out his second cigar, -drew a whiff of its scent and put it back in his -pocket. In his self-denial there was the compensation -of looking forward. He smoked it that afternoon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> -over his work. The sun was striking aslant -and was not far from setting. Here was a broad -hint to hurry if he cared to see them harvesting. -The engine sent its shrill whistling call for “wheat” -as he leaned over the fence. Dressed in a hunting -suit of brown tweed with tan boots laced -from the ankle to the knee, his broad hat pulled -forward to shade his eyes, Glenn Andrews attracted -notice. The field was alive with toilers -moving easily, swiftly, leaning in a hundred -graceful inclinations; some were loading their -wagons, lifting and loosening their shocks with -a thrust of their pitch-forks, others unloading -them beside the thresher, clipping the twine that -bound the bundles and making a moving bridge -of beaten gold as they fed it. The heated engineer, -with his oil-can, stood at the head of the -monstrous steam horse that had never lost its -mysterious power to charm the negro.</p> - -<p>Tagger often stopped to stare and wonder. -The machinery belt, smooth and glittering like -a broad satin ribbon, industriously turning on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> -great wheels, made him dance, barefooted over -the stubble, to the music of its motion. Little -imps, such as he, counted this day of the year a -holiday high above all others they had ever -known.</p> - -<p>The mule that was driven with a long lasso under -the straw as it fell had a half-dozen or more -children to pull every time it went to the stack. -In spite of the dust and the chaff that covered -their heads and half stifled them, they gave a wild -dart and leaped upon the heap as it was hauled -away. Sometimes the wind took a whirl and -scattered the straw, niggers and all broadcast -along the field. Glenn Andrews’ heart beat -lightly, the air thrilled with sounds, the music -of the harvesters and the hum of the thresher. -There is nothing like life under the open heaven, -he knew. Glenn was a gypsy by nature.</p> - -<p>“How is it turning out?” he asked, coming up -to Mr. Curtis, who was counting the loaded -wagons that were filled with sacks of wheat, starting -off to be stored.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> - -<p>“Very good; the yield is something like sixteen -bushels to the acre. I’ll have about eighteen -hundred altogether.” Glenn Andrews looked up -and saw a figure coming across the stubble—one -that stood out in delicate relief, slimmer, -shapelier than the rest. She was all in white; -Mr. Curtis saw her, too.</p> - -<p>“Here comes the fly-up-the-creek,” he said. -“She looks like a hearse horse with all those -elder blooms on her head.” His speech had no -touch of spitefulness.</p> - -<p>“I like her way; she is as wild and lawless as -the wind, and as free.” Glenn Andrews never -thought or spoke of Esther without defense.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and as sprightly as they make ’em,” -Mr. Curtis began. “She never went to school a -day in her life. Her mother taught her, and -her grandpa reads to her. But play the fiddle—she -can play it to beat the band. She just -took it up first. She could catch any tune. -A teacher came along about two years ago -who knew a little about the fiddle. Mr.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> -Campbell is very poor now. He let the lady -board with him to give Esther lessons while she -was teaching in the district. She would not practice, -they say, but you never saw anybody learn -like she did without it.”</p> - -<p>“What a pity she hasn’t a chance to keep on.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but she never will. The old man is failing; -I don’t know what’s to become of her when -he’s gone. He worries over not being able to -give her a musical education. You’d never think -it, he is so quiet about it.”</p> - -<p>“Has she no near relatives who would take her -and help her to get a start?”</p> - -<p>“Only one, a nephew of the old man, but he -married a plain, common woman. His marriage -was a shock to the family. If his was made -in heaven, as some folks believe in, I say the Lord -had a grudge against him. He started out with -fine prospects, but he’s had a lot of trouble. It -looks like some folks can’t have anything but -trouble and children. He has a family of six. -He ain’t more than thirty.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> - -<p>Glenn took a deep breath.</p> - -<p>“With such a weight as that it is no wonder he -is sore. I wish the child did have some way to -escape such a future. With a talent like hers she -could rise above the minor cares. The world already -has enough ill-paid drudges.”</p> - -<p>With this he left Mr. Curtis to meet Esther.</p> - -<p>“Can you show us anything prettier than this -in your cities?” she asked. Looking about her -she thought it made the hardiest, happiest scene -in the world.</p> - -<p>“No, I could only show you something different—new; -to the average mind it is unaccustomedness -that charms. I like this because it -is new.” The world he had known seemed immeasurably -far off to them as they stood together -there. Everything about her touched him. Her -true, simple nature, her strong, pure devotion to -her own ideals.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t played for me yet.”</p> - -<p>As he heard the engine blowing off the steam,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> -he knew they were rounding up; its work was -done.</p> - -<p>“No, and you didn’t want to hear me as much -as you made out; you forgot,” she said.</p> - -<p>“I would like to hear you this minute.”</p> - -<p>“Then come with me home.”</p> - -<p>“But look at me: my face—my hands—these -boots.”</p> - -<p>Esther looked at him quickly. “You are vain.” -Slipping her hand in his, she gently pulled him a -little way. “Oh, come on, what do you suppose -I care about dust. We have soap and water.”</p> - -<p>He let her have her way, and allowed himself -to be led.</p> - -<p>The sun hung low in the sky as they started -off, and was just dropping behind the mountains -when they reached the house. Faint zones of -pink and pearl flushed up, and everything was -quickened—glorified by the softening light.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a picture in my scrap book that looks -like you.” Esther stared Glenn Andrews full in -the face as she spoke. “It is a picture of Christ.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII.</h3> -</div> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">I like</span> you in those high boots.” Esther put -her foot on the tip of one of them as she spoke.</p> - -<p>“It was not so much vanity, as respect for your -grandfather, that made me want to appear at my -best when I met him.”</p> - -<p>“You see, he didn’t notice them. Why should -you care, anyhow, if I liked them.”</p> - -<p>There was a certain charm in her contempt for -risks and consequences. A waiter was brought -out clinking with glasses.</p> - -<p>“This will not only prove your welcome, Mr. -Andrews, but aid your digestion as well,” Mr. -Campbell said, as he came out of the hall to join -them.</p> - -<p>Andrews filled his glass that yielded fragrance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> -and soft fire. He touched it to his lips. -“This is excellent. Is it some of your own -make?”</p> - -<p>“The grapes came from my vineyard.”</p> - -<p>“I helped to make it—I strained it,” Esther -interrupted, “but I never tasted any in my life.” -Mr. Campbell laid his hand on her head.</p> - -<p>“This is to you—to your art.” Glenn Andrews -motioned to her, lifted his glass and sipped -the wine, slowly realizing it was beautiful to -every sense. Esther stole into the parlor, and -was playing her violin before they knew it. They -followed her in. It was an old-time parlor with -black, carved furniture, a slender legged center -table, polished as smooth as a mirror, holding a -china vase of curious design, in which leaned -one long stemmed rose, as red as the wine that -had made their hearts large and soft. The walls -were almost hidden by family portraits that -reached from the ceiling to the floor, set in deep -tarnished gilt frames. The carpet had a shred of -tracery suggesting a design—it might have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> -only a shadow of gorgeous wreaths that had -been worn away by dear feet that had long gone—the -whole faint impression still hallowed by -their tread.</p> - -<p>Esther loved her violin irregularly. This was a -time when she really needed it. They went in -very quietly, hoping not to interrupt her. The -soft, tremulous tones that she had not meant to -give, showed that she was excited, unnerved. -Just as Glenn was about to utter an apology for -the confusion, his face became serious and silent. -He was peculiarly sensitive to the influence of -the violin. He was conscious of a dreamy exaltation, -and the awakening of a new enthusiasm. -The music had burst into a wild, passionate tenderness, -as though she was daringly investing all -her dreams with life-throbbing human life—the -tone fairly voicing the longing of her soul.</p> - -<p>It was infinitely touching, infinitely tender. A -quick flush went up to his forehead and died out -again, as the music trembled into stillness, and -she lowered the violin, exhausted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p> - -<p>“You must be very proud of her,” Glenn -turned to the old man, “I think she has a future.”</p> - -<p>“She ought to have a chance for it,” said Mr. -Campbell. A glance from Esther’s flushed face -to the suddenly compressed lips of her grandfather -made Glenn understand that that was as -near to complaint as he ever came. He might -have been impatient in his days of strength, but -on the coming of adversity this proud man had -learned to wait in silence. He seldom breathed a -syllable of the sorrow he bore on account of his -hands being tied.</p> - -<p>“Practice is half the battle; you ought to -spend hours at it every day,” Glenn said to Esther -as she tossed her head.</p> - -<p>“I don’t ever expect to study under anyone -again. What’s the use going half way when I -know I can never go the other half?”</p> - -<p>“But you will if you only have belief in yourself.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Campbell was delighted as he listened.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> -Here was someone interested in his little girl. -He trusted a kindliness so genuine, an interest -so evidently sincere.</p> - -<p>A child’s soul is easily impressed, responsive -to the first panorama that passes before it. Mr. -Campbell hoped Glenn Andrews would come -again.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next few weeks for Esther were transitions -between content and longing. The trees of -the woodland, that had been her playfellow, now -had a rival. Of Glenn Andrews she had made a -hero, a king. She regarded him as a being to -inspire wonder and mystery.</p> - -<p>His simplest word or gesture spoke directly to -the heart.</p> - -<p>They took sweet wood rambles together. He -had already begun to realize that all solitary -pleasures were selfish.</p> - -<p>He rather looked forward to their meetings, -although he did not let her think they meant -much to him.</p> - -<p>“When do you want to see me again?” was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> -usually his parting question. If she said “to-morrow,” -he could not come until the next day, -or later. To her it seemed that he took a pride -in finding out when she most wanted to see him—only -to stay away at that particular time. He -held himself aloof—gave her room to expand. -Hers was a nature artistic to a painful degree—a -nature nobly expansive.</p> - -<p>But within the limit of the country, amid entirely -commonplace people, her power of artistic -perception had been of little value—rather a burden -than a delight.</p> - -<p>One day, after she had urged Glenn Andrews -to go with her to where they would have a pretty -view of a mountain waterfall, he had refused, and -she had gone alone. It was a long stroll, but she -was thirsting to see it. She resented his refusal, -and so had gone alone. Glenn watched her out -of sight, then went back to his writing. He was -doing some of his strongest and most vigorous -work.</p> - -<p>Esther reached the mountain side, and stood a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> -little way back to keep the spray from wetting -her dress. The breath of it was refreshing. She -took a pride in the mighty roar of the falls.</p> - -<p>Its voice sounded so strong, so real. Its commanding -majesty held her. She repeated a name, -its echo was drowned. Flowers, ferns, great -rocks, everything in its track was treated to the -same reckless inconsideration. Only the mist -rose higher and higher as though it would regain -the height it lost when the waters made the -mighty leap, and dashed its very heart to pieces -on the stones below.</p> - -<p>How she gloried in the daring of the mist. It -was so light, and thin, and quiet, but in its very -silence there seemed to be strength.</p> - -<p>It was gaining slowly, but she cheered it as she -saw it ascending, her eyes gleaming with excitement -as she watched it. “I know you’d like -to slide down the falls.” A hand was laid upon -her shoulder.</p> - -<p>“I’d rather go up with the mist,” she answered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> -Glenn Andrews, as though she was neither surprised -nor pleased by his sudden arrival.</p> - -<p>“I got through my work earlier than I expected,” -he began. “When they told me how far -it was, I thought it would be too late for you to -come home alone.”</p> - -<p>If he expected her to thank him for the consideration, -he was disappointed. The wind that -the falls generated had blown some of the waves -of her hair across her face. She carelessly -brushed it back with her hands. A strand of rebellious -hair, that seemed unmanageable, she -pulled out and threw away.</p> - -<p>“Stop that.” Glenn tapped her fingers lightly. -“Haven’t I told you not to do that? It’s a crime -to ill use such hair as yours.”</p> - -<p>Esther obeyed him, but could not resist the -impulse to say: “You may look like Christ, but -you can act like the devil.”</p> - -<p>She saw him drop his head and walk a few -steps away.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> - -<p>“You might as well have come on with me if -you were coming anyhow.”</p> - -<p>He did not look at her.</p> - -<p>“I told you I would come, if you would wait -until to-morrow. It was a poem for you I wanted -to finish.”</p> - -<p>Esther went to his side, penitent; the act had -lost its sharp outlines to her.</p> - -<p>“The words that you said someone would set -to music for me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Let me see them, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly not.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do; I’m wild to read them.” Her eyes -lost their unconcern as she pleaded.</p> - -<p>“You know I am in earnest when I say that -you will not have that pleasure. What’s the use -teasing?”</p> - -<p>He was drumming on a rock with his boot -heel, as he leaned against a shrub. The stream -that caught the waterfall laughed and lathered -over its rocks as it flowed beside them. They<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> -were of the most delicate tintings, pale lavenders, -green, and pink and blue. Glenn Andrews was -gazing at them.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever see such pretty shades as the -rocks of mountain regions take on? I’ve often -wondered what caused their coloring.”</p> - -<p>With an aggrieved air, Esther allowed the -drift of interest to turn at his bidding.</p> - -<p>“I supposed rocks were alike the world over.”</p> - -<p>“That’s because you only know your own -beautiful ones; some day you’ll see the ugly ones; -then you needn’t bother to wonder what made -them so. Just kick them out of the way and -forget them.”</p> - -<p>“Is that what you do?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, when they are not too big for me.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like the hurt, when I stump my toe on -these pretty ones. It teaches me to go around -all I can. The jagged ones that I meet some -day needn’t think of being disturbed, if I can get -around them.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> - -<p>“But sometimes they block the road, what -then?”</p> - -<p>“I’d get somebody to help me over.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you will have that good luck all your -days, Esther.”</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews’ voice had a minor sweetness. -The thought of contrasting her vagrant childhood -with the world she must one day know, -was singularly pathetic to him.</p> - -<p>Stooping, he picked up a rock and cast it across -the waters.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she said; “I was always lucky, that’s -how grandpa came to call me ‘God’s child.’”</p> - -<p>“We’d better go now; it must be a good three -mile walk.” Glenn Andrews took particular -care to note her mood as they went along, the -wild charm of her unstudied grace, the vibrating -delight of life. How much happier she was than -if she had had her way.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was the next Saturday before Glenn went -again to see Esther. Mr. Campbell entertained -him on the verandah. He sat some time, expecting -every minute to see Esther come bounding -out. Her grandfather looked so worn when he -came that Glenn felt it a sort of imposition to allow -him to talk long. Although their topic was -of deep interest, his shriveled features seemed to -smooth out as Glenn told him how rapidly Esther -had advanced that summer.</p> - -<p>“It is remarkable,” he said, “how she can take -a piece and master it by herself. What she most -needs is encouragement; some one to keep her -interested and stimulated.”</p> - -<p>“I had hoped to let her have lessons under the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> -professor at the University this year. It had -been my calculation a long time until she was -taken sick with fever.” The haggard look came -back to his face. “The doctor fears it will go into -typhoid.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean that Esther is sick now?” -Glenn stammered.</p> - -<p>“She took to her bed the same evening she -came back from the falls and hasn’t been up -since.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know a word of it. I should have -been over if I had known. I should have come -at once to see if I could do anything to help either -of you.”</p> - -<p>Glenn’s steady mouth trembled. A tumult of -memories crowded upon him. He thought of -the Indian Well, where their lives first came together. -Suppose she had breathed in the germs -that day when she tried to protect him.</p> - -<p>“Let me stay and help you nurse her, Mr. -Campbell, you look tired and need rest. I am -so strong and I have no ties to call me away.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span></p> - -<p>“You are very kind;” the rest was left unspoken, -for a hand was laid on his arm. Mr. -Campbell made his expression excuse his absence -as he turned and followed the negro girl.</p> - -<p>Presently when he came back Glenn got up -hastily.</p> - -<p>“Is she worse?”</p> - -<p>“No, she wanted to know if it was not your -voice that she heard.”</p> - -<p>“May I see her, if it is not asking too much?”</p> - -<p>His face was full of sorrow as the old man -bowed and led the way. “She wanted to see -you.”</p> - -<p>Esther’s eyes were closed; her head lay deep in -the pillow, the waves of her hair flowing back -from the whiteness of her face. “Esther,” he -whispered very softly. She opened her eyes and -her lips broke in a smile. He held out both -hands toward her and caught hers in their double -grasp, looking down in her face.</p> - -<p>“How are you? I didn’t know until this minute<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> -that you were not well. I came to take you -to the one place we’ve never been,” he told her.</p> - -<p>“I thought maybe you had come to help me -over the rock.” She smiled faintly.</p> - -<p>“Well, be very quiet; don’t worry about anything; -we’ll do all that for you. You know you -promised to play the piece you learned last week -for me. Let’s see, it was to be at the spring; that -was as close as we dared venture to Indian Well, -where we met.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t give me out.” Her voice was weak -and low. “I expect to do that for your farewell; -you must get back to college in time.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know but that I had rather be -detained; don’t run any risk.” This seemed to -please her.</p> - -<p>“Is this better than the other life—the life -among your friends?”</p> - -<p>“This is sweeter, for I am looking forward to -a lifetime with the world.” She smiled and -turned her head to rest it from the one position -she had kept too long.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> - -<p>“It will be a year before the world can get you; -I am glad you have decided to take another degree, -although you seem to know enough already.”</p> - -<p>“I know enough to realize just how little I do -know, but the special course along lines that I -am going to make my lifework is all that I shall -try to master yet. Everything has its turns; I’ll -learn it all in time, I hope.”</p> - -<p>“And then you’ll be great.”</p> - -<p>“More likely dead.”</p> - -<p>“Most great people are.” Her lips suddenly -quivered.</p> - -<p>“You take it slow. I couldn’t bear to think -of your dying.”</p> - -<p>“You are talking too much now. You and -your grandpa take a rest. You both need it.”</p> - -<p>“He must be tired after five nights and days, -but you are company. We can’t both leave you -at once.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll play host now; go to sleep. I’ll be with -you all the time.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> - -<p>“Grandpa, lie down over there on the lounge.”</p> - -<p>When he had humored her she cuddled down -contentedly and went to sleep.</p> - -<p>With a ministering tenderness, Glenn kept -watch over her.</p> - -<p>Typhoid fever was full of terrors to him. He -hoped that her fever was only due to the cold -she had taken at the falls.</p> - -<p>It was very penetrating. He had ached a little -afterward and thought it was from being saturated -with the dampness that day. Suppose the -fear in her case was true. All that beautiful hair -would have to be shaved off. He jealously resented -this, caressing her hair as he looked at it. -The doctor came later and said her condition was -better and that she would be out in a few days.</p> - -<p>Glenn drew a breath of relief. He would stay -during those few days.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Swinging</span> her violin case by the handle, Esther -started off through the cornfield, stopping -now and again to pull a spray of morning glories -that wreathed around the stalks to the tips of -their tassels. By the time she got in sight of the -Curtis house there were many of these branches -trailing over her. It was still early. The heavy -dew had dampened the dust on her shoes. She -tried to brush it off with the leaves she had gathered, -then bunching the blossoms of bright color -together she fastened them on her breast.</p> - -<p>Just as she walked up Tagger was seated on -the steps of the back porch, getting Glenn Andrews’ -boots in order for him. “Let me have the -brush a minute.” Esther took the brush, leaned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> -over and cleaned the mud off of her own shoes. -Then she took up one of the boots and began to -polish it. A thrill of delight leaped through her at -the thought. She was working for him. When -she put it down the boot looked fresher and glossier -than it could ever look under Tagger’s care. -There was a sniffling sound and Esther looked -behind her. Tagger stood scouring in his eyes -with his shining fists, his small body quivering -with sobs.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you?”</p> - -<p>“You’ll git my money,” he said through his -gasps.</p> - -<p>“Well, for heaven’s sake! you little scamp, I -don’t want your nickel.”</p> - -<p>“’Tain’t no nickel,” he blurted out. “He gimme -a quarter for turnin’ de cartwheel and standin’ -on my head. Dat warn’t work; dat was play.”</p> - -<p>Esther’s voice echoed through the halls. -When she stopped laughing, she said: “You poor -little mite, I hope he will give you the half of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> -kingdom. Here, take the brush and earn your -fortune.”</p> - -<p>As Tagger took up the other boot, to finish it, -Esther unclasped the bunch of morning glories -and tied them at the top of the one she had polished. -Seeing nothing of Glenn, and passing a -word with Mrs. Curtis who was busy in the dining -room, she went out to the flower garden. -About her in riotous health and beauty grew -flowers that gave no evidence of care. There -was a suggestion of wilfulness everywhere. The -sun had not been up long. It was splashing its -rays in the face of the great, slumbering mountains -like spray on the face of a sluggard. Glenn -walked up behind Esther as she bent over a white -rosebush in the heyday of its blooming.</p> - -<p>“You did not waste time waiting for me. -This is worth seeing. Don’t you think so?”</p> - -<p>As her face raised to his, how pure and radiant -it looked. The purity was heightened by the -flush.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if I could only do to them as I want to.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> -She stretched her arms and brought them together -with a sigh. “I’d like to hold them close and -love them as hard as I could; then I’d be satisfied.”</p> - -<p>“You’d crush them, break their stems and pay -the penalty of indulgence by pricking those arms -of yours by the wretched little briars hidden under -the beauty that you would spoil,” he said, -sharply.</p> - -<p>He wanted her to see a lesson in this.</p> - -<p>“That’s the way with life,” he said, watching -her break off one of the buds which she put in -his coat.</p> - -<p>“Come on. You have got enough. I must -leave by two o’clock.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been ready longer than you—my violin -is on the porch. We can go by there to get it.”</p> - -<p>At the start Glenn saw that Esther looked very -radiant, but suddenly the look of exaltation faded -from her face. He did not understand her mood.</p> - -<p>Generally she enjoyed what he recalled to her, -visible or invisible, with the most exquisite feeling.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> -He dearly loved that trait in her. This -was not one of her receptive moods. She did -not seem to know when they got to the spring.</p> - -<p>He indulged in an indolent sprawl upon the -grass, and she dropped down on the roots of a -tree by his side. He was an ideal lounger. That -was sufficient contentment for awhile. He was -trying to think it out without asking her.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” he said at last. “Have I -hurt you—displeased you?” That passive gentleness -of manner was rarely changed. “Won’t -you tell me?” He placed his hand softly over -hers that lay on the ground. Her lashes, delicate -in their tinting, beat together, struggling to -catch the tears that tried to overflow. She pulled -away her hand and started to rise. The child’s -heart was almost breaking and the rebellious -tears that came, hot and fast, were dashed away -by little, mad hands.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Esther, have I hurt you? Don’t, don’t! -I’d rather you would strike me—anything but -that.” He sprang to his feet and bent over her.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> -“Are you disappointed in me. Have you found -too many flaws? Is it because I must go away?” -His soft, sad eyes regarded her uneasily. “If I -am the cause, haven’t I a right to know?”</p> - -<p>“You oughtn’t to have to be told,” she said, -with shamed frankness, when she could command -her voice.</p> - -<p>“If I had meant to, I wouldn’t; that is my justification.”</p> - -<p>He touched her hair. “Come, this isn’t you—I -always liked that straightforward way of yours. -Don’t spoil our last day. Tell me, what’s the -matter?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what stings—you not only thought -little enough of them to throw them away; you -forgot it.”</p> - -<p>There was a complaining note in her voice. -It was less anger than grief she felt. Her head -had the plaintive droop of a spoiled child asking -consolation.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean the flowers on my boot; is -that all?” Slipping one hand in his pocket and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> -pulling out a few, bruised, draggled morning -glories. An expression of joy flashed over her -wet face. A faint, amused gleam shot into his -serious eyes.</p> - -<p>“Tagger used them for a handle, and I thought -their condition decided in favor of pressing -rather than wearing. I saved the pieces you see.”</p> - -<p>“They were all the color of my dreams—I -couldn’t help but think that was the way they -would go some day.”</p> - -<p>“If I can help it, they won’t.”</p> - -<p>Taking out a notebook he dropped the flowers -between its leaves. Her girlish illusions were -dear to him. He wouldn’t destroy one of them.</p> - -<p>“Here, let me get your violin. Play for me, -while I smoke.”</p> - -<p>She took it from him, and he began smoking, -as she played for him the piece he had asked -her to learn. He could see the confidence she -had gained in herself. Patience was all that she -lacked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p> - -<p>“There is yet another one I want you to learn -for me.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the use? I may never see you again. I -don’t know that I’ll worry with it.”</p> - -<p>The thought of his going away met with resentment -in her. She did not like to picture life -with his companionship withdrawn.</p> - -<p>“Fiddledee humbug! I expect to see you -again lots of times. Maybe I’ll spend Christmas -day with the Curtises. I might come over awhile -at that time if you would ask me. I am not going -home just for a day. New York State is too far.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t divide you, I want the whole day -or nothing.” Esther leaned her elbow on the -violin case.</p> - -<p>“I remember the first time I was ever offered -a piece of a whole thing. I was a very little girl. -I had a china plate that I always used at my place -at table, and one day a boy broke it in halves -and mended it. It had tiny green dots shaped -like a fence row around it, and I noticed one -place where the dots didn’t fit, and then I saw<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> -where they had pasted it together. A little chip -of it was gone. It nearly broke my heart. They -all said it was as good as new, but they couldn’t -make me see it in that way. What do you suppose -I did?”</p> - -<p>“There is no telling.”</p> - -<p>“It had been the pride of my life, but I took -that plate out, and broke it in pieces and strewed -them down the road to cut his feet when he came -by from school.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose the feet of others had got the punishment?”</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t old enough to reason that out then.”</p> - -<p>“Some people would have been sore enough -and revengeful enough not to care if they had. I -have known such instances, but I can understand -that your plate would never be the same to you -with a part of it gone. I don’t like anything incomplete -myself.”</p> - -<p>“Give me the whole day—I want you all the -time.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> - -<p>“If you will promise me to learn every piece of -music that I ask you to, I will.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t told the Curtises yet that you -were coming?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” her voice was merry, “that’s a bargain.”</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews looked at his watch.</p> - -<p>“Great Scott! ten minutes to two. I must go.”</p> - -<p>They stood for a moment hand in hand. Not -a sound could be heard save the water lisping in -the spring. He touched her hair. “Beautiful -hair!” he half whispered. “If it had been cut -off, when you came so near having the fever, I -should have asked you to give me a curl.”</p> - -<p>His veins throbbed with tenderness—between -these two there was a tie nearer than blood—the -tie of comradeship. One couldn’t think of relations -more subtle or pure.</p> - -<p>“Give me your knife,” she said.</p> - -<p>Glenn raised her face, touching her chin gently -with the tips of his fingers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> - -<p>“No, no,” he said. “It is much prettier where -it is. I wouldn’t let you cut one off.”</p> - -<p>She turned and closed her violin case with a -snap.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> he had gone, Esther went back to the -woods. The thought of his coming with the -Christmas time kept her nature alive and glowing. -Her interest in music became more absorbing -than ever. She practiced for hours at a -stretch. This exceptional interest was a triumph -that had given the old grandfather a steadier -balance of mind, when during these years he -had tried to fill her mother’s place, nurturing, -encouraging the possibilities that lay in this -young soul, ennobling, inspiring a deeper meaning -to life. Glenn Andrews had helped him. He -appreciated that. They saw him occasionally -when they went in to her lessons. Esther seemed -to realize that Mr. Campbell was making a sacrifice<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> -for her sake and every week the professor -could see the forward step she had made.</p> - -<p>The college monthly came to her regularly -now. It always had poems or stories by Glenn -Andrews. All these she preserved. There was a -sort of reverence in her care of them. They -were a part of him—his creations. In the satisfaction -derived from them, she became more impatient -as to her own imperfections. The ripe, -rich beauty of autumn trailed by in all its glory -without the love it once had from her. Her -walks became less frequent. She felt a relief -when the snow first fell. Snow always suggested -Christmas. She kept such close watch that the -calendar was not needed to tell her when it was -near. In the innocence of her heart, she pictured -Glenn Andrews watching the hours go by -with the same impetuous eagerness—he who had -gone back to his old solitary life, as though nothing -had dropped in for a moment to change it.</p> - -<p>It was Christmas. A light snow lay over the -valley.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span></p> - -<p>Esther wrapped a hood close about her head -and walked back and forth on the verandah. A -low wind among the white boughs made a lullaby -for her longing.</p> - -<p>The nearer the realization, the more impatient -she grew.</p> - -<p>At last the sound of wheels, and the brisk stepping -of horses charmed her heart—he was coming. -She heard the sound of his voice as there -was a halt at the gate.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s you, is it, Mr. Glenn?”</p> - -<p>“Who else did you expect?” asked Glenn Andrews, -stretching out his hand cordially to greet -her, enjoying the dignity she tried to assume. He -had speculated as to how she would meet him.</p> - -<p>The fire roaring up the wide chimney was -sweeter than music to him. It had been a cold -ride. They were so glad to see him, Glenn -thought it was the next best thing to going home.</p> - -<p>“Get up close and warm yourself.” Esther -shivered at the thought of his being cold.</p> - -<p>“Let me have your coat, Mr. Glenn.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> - -<p>“No, it’s too heavy; I’ll lay it over here.” Folding -it he threw it across a divan and drew his -chair up to the fire.</p> - -<p>Esther leaned on the edge of the mantle, looking -at him. The wind had blown in her hair, it -lashed about her face, and with the old careless -gesture she tossed it back, impatiently.</p> - -<p>“Have you been pulling that hair out again?” -said Glenn, with a sort of proprietary right.</p> - -<p>“No, but I’ve been cutting it off.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t!” These words held the heat of -indignation.</p> - -<p>“If you don’t believe it, I’ll prove it.”</p> - -<p>She stepped over to him as she drew something -from her belt and pressed it in his hand.</p> - -<p>“You know Christmas never came to you from -me before.” Just at that minute Mr. Campbell -came in. He settled himself in his own rocking -chair with a sigh of relief, as though he were -hypnotized by the warmth of the room. He -talked on and on, selecting topics upon which -neither seemed to have an idea. Esther had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> -made her a lot of pillows out of some -old silk dresses of quaint patterns, and as she sat -amongst them, she was almost afraid to breathe -lest she split them. They smelled very strongly -of tobacco, having been so long packed away -in its leaves.</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews felt something soft and slim -between his fingers, but it puzzled him to know -what the texture was. He was restless with curiosity.</p> - -<p>Esther enjoyed his perplexity with quiet -amusement, and was sorry when after a great -while her grandfather thought out for himself -that young folks enjoyed themselves better alone.</p> - -<p>Glenn turned slyly to see him close the door -after him.</p> - -<p>It was very interesting, this expectancy; he felt -something as he did when a child he had lain -awake all night waiting for Santa Claus to come.</p> - -<p>His heart would leap with impatience at every -sound. The old chimney, drawing its heated -breath to keep his little body warm, had added<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> -to his irritation. It seemed to him that the wind -could cut more antics then than a circus pony -cavorting for his feed.</p> - -<p>In its sound he constantly fancied he could -hear the coming of that old false ideal that had -been the first to fall, but it had not fallen until -many a little prayer had been answered and -many a young dream been realized. Such ideals -leave their imprint upon the mind. The memory -of the joy it gave softens and purifies the heart -before it awakens.</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews leaned over and opened his -hand to the light; it was a watch chain, made of -Esther’s hair.</p> - -<p>“That slide was on a chain my mother wore,” -she said.</p> - -<p>The sentiment of it made him feel that he -stood at the white sanctity of her soul with its -opening and unfathomable depths.</p> - -<p>He raised the chain to his lips and kissed it -affectionately. He could not have thanked her -in words. He realized that:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> - -<p>“Sentiment that is real is not acquired—it -flows into the veins like the breath of the sea -waves, completely freshening every sense with its -presence.”</p> - -<p>Glenn took up his overcoat and brought out -a music roll with her name mounted in silver.</p> - -<p>“It is full and you are to learn it all. That’s -the agreement.” He laid it open before her.</p> - -<p>“The very hardest that you could find.”</p> - -<p>“Just what you need.”</p> - -<p>Esther hummed a bar here and there as she -turned the pages. She was in an ecstasy of content. -A lilting joyousness of Glenn Andrews’ -presence was in everything she did and said.</p> - -<p>They lingered over the Christmas dinner. Mr. -Campbell told yarns of the olden times when he -was a boy on that holiday. He took his pleasure -in their company at the table, and afterwards left -them alone again.</p> - -<p>They made an exceptionably cozy picture, sitting -together in front of the wood fire. It was -beautiful to see the snow outside, falling in tiny<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> -siftings, displaced by the snow birds’ restless -stirring.</p> - -<p>Glenn and Esther were so comfortable. How -could it be winter out there. He smoked and -she read him selections from his own poems—the -ones she liked best. He had no idea she -could read so well—it must have been her reading -them that made them sound better than he -had ever thought them before. There was a slow -unfolding of her woman nature as he watched -her. It was almost imperceptible, yet so much -surer than a sudden burst.</p> - -<p>“You’ll keep on with your lessons?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“After this year grandpa won’t be able to -afford it.”</p> - -<p>“But it will never do for you to stop now. I -was talking with the professor the other day -about your art. He is interested in it. He -wants to study English; maybe he would exchange—if -you could teach him. Do you think -you could?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></p> - -<p>“What! I a teacher?” She clasped her hands -involuntarily. “But suppose he’d let me try?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll see if he will.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, will you, sure enough?” She was now -seated closer by Glenn, listening with an absorbing -interest.</p> - -<p>“When will I know?”</p> - -<p>“There is a lot of time between now and next -September. You’ll finish out this year, of -course.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, except when the weather is too bad -for grandpa. He’s getting old, you know.”</p> - -<p>Glenn could see how he was failing.</p> - -<p>It was about dusk when the buggy drove away -from the front steps. The parting was cordial -and yet it seemed to lack something for both. -Perhaps grandpa’s being there complicated the -situation. Whatever it was, in both their hearts -there seemed something lacking.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> coming of June brought an end to college -life for Glenn Andrews. He had had a letter -a few days before, deciding an important -question—in fact, the question of the greatest -importance to him just then. While he was waiting -for Esther he read it over again:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="right">“New York City.</p> - -<p>“My dear Andrews—Of course I hadn’t forgotten -my promise nor my interest in you. It -seems a lifetime since I stood in those priestly -looking robes on that old stage waiting to receive -my discharge and hustle or go hungry. -You were at the foot then. I remember you; -a solemn-faced chap, but mightily in earnest. -I am glad that you are at the head, and ready<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> -for the fight—the thick of it. I always knew -that was the kind of metal you were made of, so -it does me good to be able to give you a boost. -You are to be associate editor of the magazine—give -up most of your freedom and take an editor’s -chair.</p> - -<p>“You may come right on. I wonder what you -will be like after all these years since we cavorted -over that campus. Yours fraternally,</p> - -<p class="right">“Richmond Briarley.”</p></div> - -<p>What did Glenn care for slavery? His love -for his profession would even up scores. Going -among strangers had no depressing effect upon -him. He was singularly fitted for that kind of -thing. He believed that every soul should be -alone a part of its existence, away from the -sight, the touch of affection, and seek deeper -self acquaintance and understanding. This was -how he came to cultivate his passion to know and -be something.</p> - -<p>Now he was going to try his hand—his life -was to be full of interest and effort, and all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> -training he had given to his faculties were to be -exercised and tested. Esther joined him presently -to go for their last ramble.</p> - -<p>“You are to lead the way anywhere. I am -with you to-day,” he said.</p> - -<p>Glenn felt a subtle sadness at leaving her. This -human study had been most interesting to -him, nor would it be the least of his regrets for -what must be given up. The others were finished, -he had reached the last page.</p> - -<p>During the stroll, Glenn told her that the professor -had agreed to make the exchange he spoke -of at Christmas.</p> - -<p>“Now you are to promise me that you will -keep up your art. Don’t let circumstances overwhelm -you.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t keep from trying to go on, if I -wanted to, but when you get away you’ll forget -about me.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I shall.”</p> - -<p>He was very calm. No matter what he -thought or felt, he didn’t intend to drop a word<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> -that might disquiet her mind or disturb their -tranquil sense of comradeship.</p> - -<p>“I expect you to do something some day. -You’ll not stay buried down here all your life. -You were not born for oblivion.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid you will be disappointed in me. -But I’ll do my best.”</p> - -<p>She looked down, pulling at the moss on the -log.</p> - -<p>His going so far away was her first great sorrow.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe I would though if I didn’t have -next summer to look forward to; you said you -would try to come back then.”</p> - -<p>With her simplicity and daring directness she -added. “Take good care of yourself, Mr. Glenn, -for all the world couldn’t fill your place in my -heart.”</p> - -<p>“You think that now, Esther. You seem to -see something complete in our friendship. It is -all you want. A day will come when you’ll understand -that it is not satisfying. The mist of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> -morning is on the hills, and hides the outlines of -the landscape; you can see but a little way. After -awhile it will gradually lift, and give you a -clearer and broader view.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>“I know you can’t see it now. The ripening -of your nature will show you the good fruit, and -of how little use it was to cry over the pretty -petals when it dropped its bloom.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him, her lips parting as she -slowly grasped the drift of his words.</p> - -<p>“Patience and faith are what you must have.”</p> - -<p>“The patience I would have to borrow, or steal, -for I never did have any of my own.”</p> - -<p>It was going to be the hardest lesson for her -to learn.</p> - -<p>She took the knife he was toying with, and -asked suddenly:</p> - -<p>“Put your foot up a minute.”</p> - -<p>He was wondering what she would do.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to leave something for you to remember -me by.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span></p> - -<p>She began carefully to etch a sentence across -the upper part of the leather.</p> - -<p>“Bear harder, cut it—that little scratching -won’t last—as long as you are putting it there.”</p> - -<p>His eyes rested on her hair, that lay like a -crown on her bowed head.</p> - -<p>Slowly she cut each letter. “Don’t look until -I get through.”</p> - -<p>The fine, sharp blade was doing its work well; -there was just one more word. She made a -slip and the keen point plunged through. “Oh, -did that touch you?” Suddenly withdrawing it -she saw the blood leap out and run down his -boot leg. Her eyes opened wide; the despair in -them was enough to move him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Glenn, what have I done to you?”</p> - -<p>“It’s only a pin scratch; don’t think of it.” He -tried to console and reassure her.</p> - -<p>She began unwinding the soft mull tie she -wore. “I know you’ll bleed to death if we can’t -stop it.”</p> - -<p>He had taken his boot off. With tender,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> -trembling fingers she was binding the cloth to his -leg, winding it around again and again, trying -to wrap out the sight of the blood.</p> - -<p>It was no use, in a second the red stain would -radiate over the white surface.</p> - -<p>“What shall I do! oh, forgive me, forgive me!”</p> - -<p>She knelt down and pressed his knee in her -arms and bent over it with tears, the incense -of her love mingling with self-reproach. Her -penitence was pathetic.</p> - -<p>He regarded her grief with compassionate softness. -This came near disarming his resolve. He -wanted to take her in his arms as he had never -done in his life. As she held the wound close, -he resisted the impulse to flinch.</p> - -<p>“I’m all right, don’t you worry.”</p> - -<p>He read the line on the boot.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t take anything for that. It will -sweeten the absence, and I hope this scratch will -make a scar that I may wear all my life to remember -you by.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll never forgive myself for it—never!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t say that. It’s a little thing after all. -See, I walk all right. Let’s go home.” Putting -one hand on her shoulder they started off, Esther -watching every step he took with fear and -alarm.</p> - -<p>“Are you telling the truth. Don’t it hurt you -to walk?”</p> - -<p>Turning his face away, he bit his lips.</p> - -<p>“Not much, you know there is always a little -soreness, no matter how slight the cut.”</p> - -<p>He wouldn’t tell that the knee was a very dangerous -place to receive a wound.</p> - -<p>All the way the joint was stiffening and getting -more painful. His face beamed in the effort to -conceal his suffering. When they reached the -steps he leaned his head against a column; he -was wearied and felt that he could bear no -more.</p> - -<p>“Come, lie down; I’ll fix the bed for you and -find grandpa,” she urged.</p> - -<p>“No, come back; I’ll sit here on the step -awhile. I must be going soon.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p> - -<p>Dear little heart, he would never while he -lived forget her.</p> - -<p>“How can you go, hurt as you are?”</p> - -<p>“Sit down here by me, I have but a few minutes -with you. I ordered my horse for five -o’clock.”</p> - -<p>Without further resistance she took the seat. -She had not forgotten that his will was the only -one she ever met stronger than her own.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me?” looking up to him, she asked.</p> - -<p>“Don’t use that word between us.” He gathered -her hands in his own, partly for fear she -might touch his knee. Soon his horse came -around.</p> - -<p>“Poor cripple,” Esther said with a caressing -accent, stretching her hand toward his knee, as -he mounted. Then she pressed her hands hard -against her eyelids as he said good-bye. When -she looked up again he was gone. She stood -sighing as if her soul would leave her body, as he -rode on at a gallop, outlined against the far blue -of the hills.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first shock of Glenn Andrews’ absence -was a bitter trial to Esther, who grieved unreasoningly. -His going seemed like the end of the -world. It was over, those rare, dear days of -smiles and tears, of trifling quarrels and sweet -reconciliations. She wondered how she had ever -thought the sky was so blue, the grass so green.</p> - -<p>Through all of her desolation, however, ran the -thought that he wished nothing so much as for -her to advance in her art.</p> - -<p>Would she let the first rock block her way? -Youth can forget its grief. She was so unconsciously -true to him, that before she scarcely realized -it, she was back at work, harder than ever.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> -She began teaching the kind old German musician -English to pay for her instructions.</p> - -<p>Heart, brain and soul she gave to her art, not -all for its sake nor hers, but for the man that was -the world’s best type to her.</p> - -<p>The devotion with which she had worshipped -him was for the time transferred to the violin -that became the absorbing and crowning ambition -of her life.</p> - -<p>Glenn had been gone nearly a year. The summer, -instead of bringing him, brought a disappointment.</p> - -<p>He wrote her:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Fate or Providence has put in its oar to the -exclusion of my own interesting plans. I didn’t -dare really hope that I should see you this summer, -even while I planned the trip. Providence -would never be so kind as that. I am ordered -to Athens to do some special work for our magazine. -They have been unearthing some more -wonderful curiosities there. This is the last note<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> -I write before going abroad, for I sail early to-morrow -morning. How much easier it is to learn -things than to unlearn them. I used to think -differently at college. Very many times, more than -I will admit to myself, I have closed my eyes and -tried to imagine that I should open them upon -yours, gazing disapprovingly at my ‘steenth’ -cocktail. Many times I have been glad when I -opened them that it was not so—at others I have -been a little sorry. There is a deliciousness about -your not being with me which is quite a new sensation. -I shall never again pity the old Flagellants. -I know now that there was a certain -ecstasy of pleasure for them which we have taken -too little account of. There is a pleasure in not -writing to you, too; I am writing now because I -know if I don’t I shall not hear again from you, -and I confess that I don’t want my flagellation -to take that shape. You were growing when I -left you. Have you stopped? Don’t stop thinking—don’t -stop striving—don’t stop hoping. -You have no lack of imagination, inspiration, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> -you need the cold, cruel leaven of fact. Your -symphony needs less harp and more violin. The -Jews are clinging to their old ideals. The Gentiles -crucified it, and have a living gospel. Let -them die if they won’t live without nursing. You -don’t want them. (I mean the ideals—not the -Jews this time—metaphors always proved too -much for me.) And finally don’t preach to -others as I am doing to you. It’s a bad habit and -never does any good. But remember that there -are a few misguided and dreamy creatures who -think you may do something one of these days -if you ever get your eyes rubbed open wide -enough.</p> - -<p class="right">“Glenn Andrews.”</p> -</div> - -<p>For the next year his habitual haunts would -know him no more. He would combine with his -trip a while in Paris. Casting aside all obligation -he entered into the spirit of the life about -him. Paris, with all its dangers, all its charms, -the extraordinary influence of that congenial life, -touched him with a glowing heat of inspiration.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> -He revelled in his hopes—in his dreams. Here -he would write something worthy of him. His -nature was rich in the vivid impressions, intense -feelings and fine thoughts which make life full -of real meaning and significance. Here he saw -many sides of it—much of it was meaningless -and distasteful, and repelled all of his finer senses, -but “it is in experience that one sees all that is -most vile and all that is most beautiful.” This -was an excellent opportunity. All the while he -was maturing—beginning to have a more tolerant -knowledge of his fellow man. His heart was -kindlier—the weight of his judgment lighter.</p> - -<p>Half the world away, Esther was sorrowing -for him—the memory of the disappointment he -had caused touched deep fibres in her that ached -and ached and ached. Besides this, she could -see her old grandfather growing feebler with the -setting of every sun. His small stock of vitality -was slipping away.</p> - -<p>He knew that the stalk was withered, and soon -must fall, yet he tried to face the truth in smiling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> -silence. Sometimes—when he thought of the -hands that had so longed to have control of his -child—the anguish in him overflowed. They -would soon have her in their grasp.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GIRL">THE GIRL.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center no-indent">————◆————</p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Campbell</span> did not live through the winter.</p> - -<p>Esther was left to the care of his nephew, living -in a remote part of the valley.</p> - -<p>One morning, when she had rocked one of the -children to sleep, she sat with it in her arms, gazing -out on the gloomy day with sad, set eyes. -For the time being she lost all memory of the -scene about her. The laughter of the children, -the woman leaning over the bed, cutting small -garments out of coarse cloth. She began to remember -all that her grandfather had meant to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> -her. She recalled his tenderness, the strong -fortress of his great love built between the world -and her. It had crumbled so slowly that she -didn’t comprehend that it could ever wear quite -away, until it had crumbled to the ground. True -he was dead, but he had made a defense for her -even beyond the gulf. Though stinted in many -things, he had always held to his life insurance. -The farm was worn out—the house old—it would -bring little, but the two together would help her -to maintain her independence until she could -master her art. He did not know the years or -the money that it required—he only felt that -through the medium of her art she might hold -some of the dignity of position to which she was -entitled by right of birth. Knowing this, Esther -yearned with her heart and soul to go forward. -His lofty, beautiful character shone out before -her mind without a flaw. The thought of again -taking up the task alone was sweetened and ennobled -by that memory.</p> - -<p>The woman glanced at Esther as she laid aside<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> -one pattern, put the pins in her mouth until she -could place another. She was a saffron-faced, -stoop-shouldered woman—one who prided herself -on the drudgery she could do, who welcomed, -rather than flinched from hardships.</p> - -<p>“What are you studyin’ about now?”</p> - -<p>Esther shuddered as she recalled the present.</p> - -<p>“You ain’t thinking about startin’ up that fiddlin’ -again, are you?” the other stopped short -to ask. A shadow crossed the girl’s face.</p> - -<p>“Jenny told me you had got it into your head -to take lessons again from that old Dutchman at -the college.”</p> - -<p>“I have been thinking about it,” Esther answered -calmly.</p> - -<p>“Goodness knows I wouldn’t! I always -thought the fiddle warn’t for anybody but men -and niggers.” Her high-pitched voice was piercing. -“Georgy got a juice harp somewhere, and I -took it away from him and burnt the fetched -thing up. I have always heard: ‘Let your children -learn music if you want ’em to be no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> -’count.’” She stopped to get her breath. “Your -cousin John thinks it’s an outrage—the idea of -your taking lessons again. He knows nothing -t’all about the man—but foreigners are a bad lot.”</p> - -<p>“Did cousin John tell you that he opposed the -idea?” Esther interrupted her to ask.</p> - -<p>“He didn’t seem to take to it, any more than -your trapsin’ over the woods by your lone self.”</p> - -<p>“Did he tell you he thought that was wrong?”</p> - -<p>“Well, not in so many words, but I can tell -when a thing goes against the grain with him. -He don’t like to hurt you. I tell him he thinks -more of your feelings than your character. I -just took it upon myself to tell you for your own -good.”</p> - -<p>The woman’s speech was harsh and to the -point. She continued abruptly:</p> - -<p>“You might do your own washin’ and ironin’ -too, instead of hirin’ it all the time. You couldn’t -do up a pocket-handkerchief.”</p> - -<p>Esther got up, and laid the baby in the crib; -her arms ached so.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p> - -<p>“If you knew how to do anything you might -help me with all this sewin’.” She laid one knotty -hand on a heap of it piled beside her.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know how, but I will hire that part -of it done, which you think I should do,” she said -gently, looking straight at the woman.</p> - -<p>“When cousin John wouldn’t take any money -for my board, I asked him to let me work for the -worth of it. I didn’t ask him to make it easy -for me. He has a big family. I wanted to earn -my way.”</p> - -<p>“He does think you try to earn it,” she admitted -generously, “but I think it’s mighty easy -for you myself. You ought to be very thankful. -Look at the time you have—the whole blessed -evenin’. You have nothin’ but to help Jenny -with the children, and the cookin’ and the milkin’—what’s -three cows to milk? I have seen the -day, before the family was so big, when I could -do all the work on the place and not half try.”</p> - -<p>Esther made a brave effort to control the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> -strong spirit within her. From the start the -other had persisted in misinterpreting her emotions, -misunderstanding her ambitions. She kept -guard of herself, for this was her cousin’s wife.</p> - -<p>“When do you get the mail out here?” Esther -tried to change the subject.</p> - -<p>“When do we get the mail?” she repeated with -intense disgust.</p> - -<p>“Every time we send to mill, that’s four or five -times a year too often, to get those papers that -John will take; readin’ those vile things is the -ruination of the country. I keep ’em from the -children the same as if they were scorpions. As -for letters, we don’t get many. Most people we -care about live closer to us than the post office. -You lookin’ for any?”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to get one.”</p> - -<p>“From that college man? I reckon he’s forgot -you are in existence.”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” Esther said, with an indifferent -show of pride.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> - -<p>“He was curious looking to me; the way he -wore his hair was abominable.”</p> - -<p>“He’s my friend. I’d rather not talk of him.”</p> - -<p>“That’s no reason he’s too good to be talked -about.”</p> - -<p>“As you please.” Reaching for her hat Esther -started toward the door.</p> - -<p>“You’d better let ’lone fightin’ for him and -learn some common sense. You’d never get -married if men knew how little account you was. -When I was your age I’d been married three -years,” she said, proudly. “If you don’t want to -be an old maid you’d better settle down and marry.” -Esther closed the door as she uttered the -last word.</p> - -<p>“Marry? What? A plowboy, a pedler, or a -washing machine agent?” That would have -been her cousin’s wife’s idea.</p> - -<p>She wondered as she said this to herself what -had become of all those people we hear of who -“married and lived happily ever afterward.” A -sob caught in her throat, and she almost ran<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> -until she was out of sight and sound of the woman’s -voice.</p> - -<p>Esther Powel at eighteen, and in her young, -fresh beauty—this was the offering she would -immolate on the altar of her limitations.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Instead</span> of resorting to the woods, her old -friend, Esther made her way down to the plum -thicket. The honey bees were humming to the -heart of the blossoms.</p> - -<p>Throwing herself full length upon the ground, -she lay in a white drift of them. An hour or more -was given to heartrending sobs of utter grief -and abandonment of everything in the whole -world.</p> - -<p>The pathos of her starved, unsympathetic existence, -living in isolation among people as heavy -as wet clay. All the sentiment, thought, passion, -of her being had no outlet—none of the cravings -of her youth had been satisfied.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> - -<p>Between her and Glenn Andrews the silence -had been unbroken for almost a year.</p> - -<p>As she lay there looking up, with her arms -folded under her head, her heart almost bursting -with a sense of her own helplessness, she pictured -herself accepting the knowledge that she -would never see him again. All the unhealthy -fancies born of loneliness and sorrow possessed -her. The day was gray. The steel rim of the -sky seemed to fit the woods. She watched it -with a stifling sensation. It looked as if it would -soon bend the trees double and close in, shutting -down upon the narrow space in which she lived.</p> - -<p>She remembered to have seen her grandfather -turn an old, worn pan of granite down upon his -early tomato slips. He did this to keep out the -light, until they could get strength enough to -stand the hardier growth—he did it to force -them. The consistence of nature’s laws she did -not understand.</p> - -<p>She only knew that to-day for her was very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> -lonely, narrow and dark, and to-morrow would -be another to-day when it came.</p> - -<p>She went back to the house with a dull expression -of hopelessness in her eyes.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">So</span> the days passed—the cold, wretched days. -Esther was sewing diligently, making both -sleeves for one arm, blundering on everything -she undertook, until it exhausted her teacher’s -patience. For some time she was less a help -than a hindrance—yet she was sewing.</p> - -<p>One evening she dropped her work and went -out to meet her cousin John. She often met -him when he came home. This time she was -unusually anxious. He had been to mill.</p> - -<p>“Well, you are back; we’ve missed you,” she -said.</p> - -<p>Mixed with her love for him was a big proportion -of pity. He had such a hard, stupid -kind of life and had never been appreciated.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> - -<p>“Hello, youngster!” he greeted her, with his -stout, strident voice. “What’ll you give me for -a letter—a two-pounder?”</p> - -<p>“It depends on where it’s from.”</p> - -<p>“Paris, France.”</p> - -<p>“No? Really?”</p> - -<p>Holding a package just above her head, he -read: “Mademoiselle Esther Powel, Etats Unis -d’Amerique. He’s sending back all your old -letters. This looks as if it might hold a dozen -or two.”</p> - -<p>“They are not mine,” she cried, as, laughing, -she leaped and snatched it from his hand.</p> - -<p>“Glenn Andrews,” she repeated, breathlessly, -holding the writing before her eyes. Without a -word she stole away, to read it alone. He loved -her, this cousin of hers, this practical, unimaginative -man, but he had never understood her. -Her ideas were not his ideas, nor her hopes his -hopes, but he was proud of her in an uncomprehending -manner and he smiled at her aspirations -as at his boy baby’s ambition to drive the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> -mules. A thrill crept down to her heart. It was -a book exquisitely bound, bearing Glenn Andrew’s -name. She fondled its pages, ran her -hand lovingly over their smooth surface. The -book opened to a folded paper, on which were -some notes jotted down for the violin, an accompaniment -to a song that he had written.</p> - -<p>Turning the leaves, she came to a card; a line -on the back of it read: “You can learn this. -Let me hear at New York address after April.” -It was dropped by a poem, “My Little Love of -Long Ago.”</p> - -<p>This girl, gifted with all the subtlety of rare -natures, understood. Her face quivered with -tenderness as she gazed at it. The world was full -of light—somebody in it took an interest in her. -This had fallen like some faint, soft fragrance in -her life. Between laughter and tears she read -the poem:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“My little love of long ago,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">(How swiftly fly the tired years!)</div> - <div class="verse indent0">She told me solemnly and low</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Of all her hopes and all her fears.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> - <div class="verse indent0">She feared the dangers of the way,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The striving and the work-a-day</div> - <div class="verse indent6">That waited far across the sea—</div> - <div class="verse indent6">The loneliness of missing me.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">She never doubted me—ah, no!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My little love of long ago.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“For she had faith in everything,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">(How swiftly fly the tired hours!)</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A heart that could not help but sing,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And blossomed out amid the flowers.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My loving was its best refrain,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My leaving was its saddest rain.</div> - <div class="verse indent6">She sobbed it all upon my knee—</div> - <div class="verse indent6">The loneliness of missing me.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I kissed and comforted her so—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My little love of long ago.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“My little love of long ago,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">(How swiftly fly the tired days!)</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Such little feet to stumble slow</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Along the darkest of life’s ways,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">While time and distance and the sea,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or my poor, careless heart, maybe,</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Could not have told from spring to spring,</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Why we so long went wandering!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Saddest of all is not to know!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My little love of long ago.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Esther was radiant with joy. She sped over -the ground like a wild young deer, running to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> -the house for her long-forsaken violin. She carried -it to the back of the orchard. She propped -the music up in the low fork of an apple tree, and -wrestled with the opening bars. It was written -in a minor key and was the most difficult accompaniment -she had ever seen. Over and over -again she tried to bring out the plaintive harmony -that was there. She had to give it up at -last—it was beyond her reach—it challenged her. -This caused her flickering ambition to flash up -anew.</p> - -<p>A new resolve glowed in her eyes. To be -thwarted in a thing was touching upon an acutely -sensitive nerve. She would not rest until -she had beaten down every obstacle between her -and her hope of attainment. She would free herself -of these maddeningly narrow surroundings.</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews immediately answered her letter, -found upon his arrival in New York. He -said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>“You have lived among the flowers, had great -grief, and now the flowers do not console you. -And yet, if you only knew it, nature is a thousand -times better at consolation than human beings. -I long ago gave up looking for consolation -from people—I can get it from flowers. -Maybe it is because I don’t live among them. -In lieu of flowers, I take work, and the grind I -go through takes the edge off griefs, joys and -ambitions. It reduces one to the dead level of -passiveness, which is not ecstatic, but which does -not hurt. So I might say to you: ‘If the flowers -do not console you, try work’—but, doubtless, -you have been working. I know that you are -capable of it. Perhaps time has worn off the -brunt of your sorrow and you are feeling the after -pain of loneliness—which is even worse to bear, -because less vivid and more constant.</p> - -<p>“You ought to do something some day with -your art. If you only know it, you are not unfortunately -situated as regards your future. Try -and look at it that way. Lift up your head and -throw your shoulders back. Go and look in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> -looking-glass and make a face at yourself, and -remember you are not an editor, that your nose -is not on the grind-stone and that you have, after -all, something to thank God for.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Esther had been faithful to the impulse of that -day. She slaved with a resolution painful to see. -In that year she had changed, developed greatly. -The kindly old professor regarded her with pride -as he sat listening to her, after she had conquered -the music Glenn Andrews had sent to -her. There was a sweep of magnificence in it.</p> - -<p>At the last of the year there came a change. The -old professor was leaving for a broader field. -He encouraged her to make an effort for the -highest mark; her next step, in his opinion, -should be New York. Of course, it would take -self-sacrifice, he told her; “but what is sacrifice -when one is at the center of the world?”</p> - -<p>New York, which she had feared, and which -had always seemed to her so great and so far. -New York that now stood for all the hope in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> -her life. After the professor had gone she began -turning his advice over in her mind. She -could go no further here. She might there. But -the struggle to keep up the pace in New York -while she was doing it, would probably throttle -all the ambition and freshness she had as capital -to begin with. She thought of people she loved -who had gone. She could not turn out ill after -all their care. She might accomplish something -in spite of the difficulties. Lots of people had. -Her impulse was to dare until, under the heat of -its spell, she wrote a line to Glenn Andrews.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of New York for me?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</h3> -</div> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">What</span> do I think of New York for you?” -Glenn Andrews replied, “frankly I don’t know. -You forget that the one thing necessary to answer -your question is the one thing I don’t possess. -That is to say, I don’t know you as time -has made you. What I would have said years -ago to the slip of a girl, I cannot say to the growing -woman. You and your art are the deciding -quantities. Have you bodily strength, or only -nerve fibre? Have you real genius, or only mediocrity? -Genius, which lives by self-understanding, -can forgive this blunt questioning. New -York takes strength. It is a great monster -which grips you by the throat and shakes you as -a dog does a squirrel. The process shakes the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> -life out of its body and leaves it broken and dead, -or else it twists its neck, bites strong and deep, -and is allowed to go. You must draw blood to -make the monster of city life quit—the rich, -warm blood of enthusiasm and applause. And I -doubt whether your teeth are strong enough.</p> - -<p>“Success means hard work—long, bitter days -and nights of it—drab days of monotony, black -nights of disappointment. It means toil and -tears. This is a maelstrom, and only the biggest -branches float on the surface. The little twigs -are sucked down. And it is a place of giant timber. -The oak from the country hillside is only -a scrub here. You must remember this. The -bigness of it all makes for heartlessness. When -one meets a beggar on every corner, one soon -ceases to feel sorry; and where failures are so -common, there is seldom a helping hand or even -a sigh of sympathy. Only the warmest fire can -go on burning brightly with the ice falling so -thick around it.</p> - -<p>“So much for you yourself, and your own view<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> -of yourself. As to your ability, I mean. Your -circumstances I do not know. New York takes -money. In comparison with your own home, it -takes a great deal. To succeed in it requires time—years; -and unless you can afford to stay it -through, you would better save yourself the discouragement -of failure, for there is no bitterer -failure than that which we feel to be purely circumstantial.</p> - -<p>“I pass over the question of the evil of New -York. Evil comes from inside of us—it is not -absorbed. If we are pure, it does not touch us; it -goes by. I believe it would go by you. There -are no temptations in New York any more than -there are at home, for those who do not want to -be tempted. You are, no doubt, a far better -judge of this matter than your minister—I am -heterodox enough for that.</p> - -<p>“There is another side. No one knows genius -so well as itself. If you have it, New York is the -place for you. The greater the body, the greater -the attraction for the great centre. I would not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> -counsel you to disregard its force, for I believe -only true motives move you. And if you know -yourself and believe in yourself, you will find -a way to beat down other difficulties. There are -ways of living in New York cheaply. You might -essay the purgatorial round of music lessons; -your violin might earn its own halo—who -knows?</p> - -<p>“I take it you would come alone. There are -places where young women, unattended, are -made welcome and cared for; and there are -places where earnest workers congregate where -there are ordinary comforts at low rates—these, -if you should decide to try the venture, you must -let me tell you of. I should be glad indeed if -what knowledge I have of the city might be of -some service to you.</p> - -<p>“In closing this letter, I feel that, after all, I -have told you nothing. You have, no doubt, considered -the question in all its bearings. Such a -step is a serious one—far too much so for me to -intrude upon it. Be true to yourself—to your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> -ideas, your judgment, and your reason. If you -do this, you will be true to your art. Do not -hesitate to write me if I can help you, but you -must not ask me to advise you as to coming. -‘What do I think of New York for you?’ I don’t -know!</p> - -<p class="right">“Glenn Andrews.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Here</span> was a man who had lost the romance of -life. Not a shred of sentiment was left.</p> - -<p>Richmond Briarley strode about his den, pulling -his smoking jacket from a pair of vicious-looking -antlers above the door, his slippers from -the wings of Cupid poised above the glorious -Psyche.</p> - -<p>There was a princely abandon in the luxurious -den he called “home.” Looking about it, one -would conceive him to be a man quite beyond -the ordinary—if the trophies, pictures, statuary, -bespoke his individuality.</p> - -<p>“Don’t wait for me, Andrews, go ahead,” he -called out from an alcove.</p> - -<p>If his heart was not open to his friends, his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> -finest wines were, and the one is often mistaken -for the other.</p> - -<p>Richmond Briarley had ample, irregular features, -hair and eyes the blackest black, and an -olive gray complexion. There was something -stoic in the closing of his lips, set around with -circular wrinkles, revealing the traits peculiar to -his type. He hadn’t the least regard for the past, -nor fault to find with the future.</p> - -<p>Coming out, he poured a glass of wine and -drank with Glenn Andrews.</p> - -<p>“Have a smoke,” glancing towards a tabourette, -strewn with pipes, some of them disreputable -enough to the eye.</p> - -<p>“Take any of them, you won’t be smoking any -old, dry, dead memories—these are all ‘bought’ -ones.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll help myself. I was just reading my mail. -The boy handed it to me as I was leaving the office.”</p> - -<p>Folding a sheet of paper on which was written<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> -only a name and address, he took up one of -the pipes and began filling it.</p> - -<p>So Esther Powel was in town. It was a daring -entrance upon life for this little hard-headed, -soft-hearted Southerner. He looked thoughtful; -the soberness of his youth, rather than the labor -of his manhood, had lightly marked his face. A -sudden apprehension seized him for the pure, -sweet life he knew so well. It was almost as -much as her life was worth to come here so -pretty and so friendless. She needed protection.</p> - -<p>This thought took possession of his mind to -the exclusion of all else. In the old days he had -been the only one who could bend her wayward -will. Her faith in him was the blind unquestioning -faith of a child. Her own feeling for him she -did not reason with. She accepted it as a fact -which was beyond her analysis. Under its spell -she had grown and flourished against great odds. -Why should she not continue to do so?</p> - -<p>“Briarley,” Glenn went on, filling his pipe, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> -packing it down with his thumb. “Suppose you -knew a girl who was coming here alone, to study -art, what would you consider the very best way -to shield her?”</p> - -<p>“By keeping away from her.”</p> - -<p>“But, suppose she needed some one to look to—suppose -she were young and knew no one. -City life is a fiercely hardening process, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“I’d get some woman friend to show her all -there was to see, and that might cure her. So-called -sin charms because it’s unknown.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think a girl’s love, if not unappreciated, -is a shield and an inspiration?”</p> - -<p>Briarley shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Oh! of course, I forgot. You don’t believe in -love.”</p> - -<p>“I do, as much as I believe in any other hell.”</p> - -<p>Andrews was silent.</p> - -<p>“Have your fun out, then we’ll be serious.”</p> - -<p>Their views were directly opposite, yet the enthusiasm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> -of each made ground for respect, if not -agreement.</p> - -<p>“While you now admit such a phantasy, Andrews, -you get the credit of living by the head. -It is generally understood that you never let -scruples of the heart stand in the way.”</p> - -<p>“I am not a woman; besides, it is a matter of -self-denial, and not unbelief. My love is my -profession—long ago I made my choice between -woman and art—if I had chosen woman -that love would have ruled my life. I have given -over much for my work; it has demanded sacrifice. -I am just now beginning to prove myself -equal to its despotic sovereignty. Briarley, unless -you have tried for one thing all your life, you -can’t conceive how bewildering and sweet a burst -of it is for the first time. Under no conditions -whatever would I sacrifice my best aims, my -highest ambitions. It is better to be than to -have. That’s my philosophy.”</p> - -<p>“Go on. Every man has the right to work -out his own destiny.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> - -<p>Briarley filled his glass again. “The way he -can get the most satisfaction is the way he generally -chooses.”</p> - -<p>“Satisfaction hurts the soul. There is nothing -worse than satiety of the senses. I would never -let myself become thoroughly satisfied.”</p> - -<p>“You couldn’t ask for more than the success -of that last book. The critics rendered you distinguished -services,” said Briarley. “I understand -the sale was enormous.”</p> - -<p>“It has sold very well, but that only forces me -to wrestle the harder to keep up the standard -of that reputation. If I cared for a woman, my -heart and soul could be loyal to her, but my -time and vitality belong entirely to my art. ‘Women -are born to live and love. They only really -live after they love.’”</p> - -<p>Andrews went on as though the other had endorsed -his doctrine. “Love is an uplifting force -to genius. A man would be doing a chivalrous -act to win and hold the devotion of a girl in such -an instance as I have cited.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span></p> - -<p>“It would be a risk.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but in my judgment the advantage is -much greater than the risk.”</p> - -<p>“It would be a responsibility.”</p> - -<p>“I like responsibility; it braces a man to bear -it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the fellow who carries out your mad -project will settle for his folly.”</p> - -<p>“If he did, I’d stand by him in it.”</p> - -<p>“He couldn’t stand by himself. There’d be the -trouble—he’d fall.”</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews knocked the ashes from his -pipe and got up, straightening his shoulders and -smoothing his hair with his hands. His mind -was made up. He did not expect to fall.</p> - -<p>Knowing himself to be his own master, he felt -that to lend himself to anything that would hurt -her ideal of him would be impossible.</p> - -<p>“Where now?”</p> - -<p>“To find somebody looking for trouble,” Glenn -said, with a smile.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t forget the Sunday night concert, Andrews. -I’m counting on you. Here are half the -box tickets. Do what you please with them.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be there. Thank you.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Glenn Andrews</span> walked down the street, -which had been written on the sheet of paper in -his pocket.</p> - -<p>“No. 23.” He looked up and saw that No. 23 -was a hospital. There must be some mistake. -No, that was plainly what it said.</p> - -<p>He stood looking at the door in an anxious -manner.</p> - -<p>“Could she be here—ill?”</p> - -<p>He had drawn a charming picture of her, a -radiant specimen of perfect health. His pulse -quickened. The curtains parted and a girl appeared -at the window. Her eyes were dim, her -face ghastly—the look on it was neither pain nor -age—it was a look of hopelessness. The rich,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> -gleaming hair made a glory about her head, as -the light caught its golden sheen. That was like -her hair. A moment she stood there, looking -down the street, then dropped the curtain. He -saw her turn and go sorrowfully upstairs.</p> - -<p>The light from the hall chandelier was very -brilliant—his face cleared. A better look satisfied -him it was not Esther Powel.</p> - -<p>He pondered a minute, then started down the -street again. She had evidently given him the -wrong number.</p> - -<p>At the corner he stopped a policeman. “I am -looking for a boarding house on this street—No. -23, West.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe it’s the next street; that same number -is a boarding house. All in this block are private -houses except the hospital.”</p> - -<p>Glenn thanked him and went on quickly. -She’d made a mistake in the street maybe. It -would soon be too late to call. He did not need -to inquire again, for as he turned the corner he -could see Esther Powel on the steps, looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -out upon the square ablaze with light and confusion.</p> - -<p>“It is Mr. Glenn.” With the words she sprang -three steps at a time to the pavement. “How -glad I am!”</p> - -<p>And then she stopped, remembered, and held -out her hands.</p> - -<p>“How you frightened me. You had me going -to the hospital to find you. That’s the same -number on the next street.”</p> - -<p>“Well, how do you expect me to get things -right when I feel like I’m flying every way and -can’t get myself together to light?”</p> - -<p>Glenn always found her startling figures amusing. -“You will feel that for awhile.” He hadn’t -taken his eyes away from her as she led the way -into the parlor. “You are stunned by the novelties. -You will also be quickened by them.”</p> - -<p>Esther, full-breasted, slender-limbed, rounded. -The joy of life was upon her—the loveliness of -full bloom.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> - -<p>“It’s good to see you again,” he said, “but -why didn’t you let me help you get settled?”</p> - -<p>“It took enough of your time to write that -discouraging letter.”</p> - -<p>“You know I didn’t mean it for that. I -would do most anything to further your art. But -it is best to do only that for what we are intended. -Nobody could know that as well as yourself. -I believed your decision would be right, whatever -it was,” he told her. “Are you pleased with your -advancement so far?”</p> - -<p>“Not pleased—buoyed. I hope to do something -some day.” As she raised her eyes to him -they expressed something of the wild, delicate, -throbbing pride. “I did not come to fail.”</p> - -<p>“I believe that, from the good reports I have -heard through our old friend, your professor.”</p> - -<p>“He was very nice to me; it was through him -that I knew about the Frenchman who will instruct -me here.”</p> - -<p>“So you’ve arranged all that, too.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; I begin my lessons next Monday.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p> - -<p>“Smart girl. How are you situated here; are -you comfortable?”</p> - -<p>“Comfortable!” she laughed. “I have to come -downstairs to draw a good breath. They stow -me away in a sort of a garret on the fourth floor. -As Cousin John would say, there isn’t room to -‘cuss’ a cat without turning sideways.”</p> - -<p>“I believe your Southern men are more given -to profanity than Northerners,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but his is so whole-souled that it is only -‘profunity.’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear; don’t think that I’m opposed to it,” -Glenn interrupted. “I sometimes find relief in a -good, wholesome—”</p> - -<p>Esther held up a warning forefinger.</p> - -<p>“Then you may do mine for me. I shall need -it if I stay here long enough.”</p> - -<p>“Boarding house life is a miserable parody on -home, I know. But we can stand most anything -for a while if the incentive is great enough.”</p> - -<p>“All these looking-glasses keep me tangled. -I seem to be going towards myself, from myself,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -beside myself, but I have been fortunate a part of -the time. Two young men on the train gave me -addresses of nice places to board when they -found that I was alone and a stranger to the -city.”</p> - -<p>Instinctively Glenn frowned. “Have you got -them?”</p> - -<p>“I saved them to show you.” Taking them -from her purse, she handed him the cards.</p> - -<p>“You don’t want them,” he said, crushing the -cards in his hand.</p> - -<p>“Did they ask permission to call?”</p> - -<p>“One did. He wanted to come with me from -the station. I didn’t care to be bothered when -I was thinking of seeing you. My! how I -dreaded to see you, though I believe if I hadn’t -very soon I’d have started back South,” she said -in her effusive way. “I was afraid the change -I’d find in you would be disappointing.”</p> - -<p>“Was it?” he asked quickly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, because it is for the better. I didn’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> -want to care as I used to in the old days.” She -was still childish enough to be honest.</p> - -<p>“Why, did you find me unworthy?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you were worthy enough, but I -have learned it is not well to let one’s affection -wrap their tendrils too close about another; it -hurts so when they are snapped.”</p> - -<p>“There is no reason for them to be snapped,” -he argued. “The joy of clinging should make -them strong enough to wrap and unwrap, leaving -its sweet effect.” As he was leaving, “Trust -men for little and your instinct for a good deal,” -he said. His visit had made him all the more -determined. A profound passion can be displaced -only by one greater. He had had no experience -in guiding people, but he had a desperate -faith in his own way of reasoning.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Glenn Andrews</span> took Esther with him to the -concert. It was a great violinist’s last appearance -for the season.</p> - -<p>She was happily excited, unconsciously holding -Glenn by the sleeve. The glitter and glory -of this wonderful, new world was dazzling. The -violinist, with his long hair and big face of -rugged strength, enchained her the moment the -music commenced.</p> - -<p>With the intensity of her growing enthusiasm, -she gripped Glenn’s arm. He was repeatedly recalled.</p> - -<p>“I expect one day to see you sway them like -that,” he whispered, as the curtain went down -for the fourth time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t! it is impossible,” she said, sighing. -“I am just beginning to feel that my teeth are -not strong enough.”</p> - -<p>“There was a time when his were not, but he -wouldn’t let go,” Glenn said with emphasis.</p> - -<p>Tears stood in her eyes. “Don’t do that, I -thought it would inspire you to see such result, -fulfillment; I believe it’s going to depress you.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>“I rejoice with him, I’m glad to see him win; -but three long years before you are sure of anything—even -failure—is hard to look forward to.”</p> - -<p>“Did your teacher say it would take you that -long?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I had thought that I would double -it; take twice the lessons and practice. After -all, I may fail in the end.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, you are no weakling. Of course it’s -work, it’s drudgery; that’s the bracing part of it. -You’ve earned the place when you do get it. An -effortless success is only a crueller word for failure;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> -you must not be impatient. I used to have -to remind you of that.”</p> - -<p>Glenn did not know how she would take this; -he had had alluring glimpses of her deeper self, -but he must understand her very thoroughly or -he could not hold her, charmed.</p> - -<p>She did not make any reply.</p> - -<p>He was gazing at a box near them and bowed -to a majestically handsome woman, splendidly -gowned. He touched Richmond Briarley’s arm.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Low and Stephen Kent. Kent is an awfully -decent chap. He is lucky to be a protegé of -hers. What a lot of good her indorsement has -been to him. I knew him on the other side. I -am writing the libretto for his new opera. You -were at the club Tuesday night when he was my -guest. Didn’t you meet him?”</p> - -<p>“No, but I heard him play some of his own -compositions. Something was said about us both -joining the club. It’s too literary for me.”</p> - -<p>“I am his voucher. He sails soon and I don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> -think he expects to come into the club until he -returns in the winter.”</p> - -<p>Glenn turned to Esther, who was absorbed in -the last number on the programme.</p> - -<p>She spoke softly to him. Gathering up her -white silk shawl, he folded it about her shoulders.</p> - -<p>“We are going in a minute. The lady you see -with white hair in this box next to us is a leader -in artistic circles. I want her to know you.”</p> - -<p>The curtain fell as they arose. Linking his little -finger in hers under the fringe, he led her -over to the box. There was something in his -manner that expressed beyond question his determination -that never while he had strength -should the world darken this child’s soul.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Glenn Andrews</span> was unwearied in his visits, -and held to an abiding faith in Esther’s future, -and stronger and stronger grew his determination -to be steadfastly loyal to her. He seemed -to have an exhaustless reserve fund of nerve -power. Stinted in sleep, as he was, and overwhelmed -by his own work, yet he made time to -look after her.</p> - -<p>With an infinite patience he was cutting a -niche for himself, and above it a name.</p> - -<p>His admirable solicitude for Esther was at -strange variance with his desire to wound her, -bruise her, make her think and feel.</p> - -<p>To her he was a mystery unfathomable. The -heart within her was so delicate, it easily swayed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> -from harmony to discord. She was so sensitive, -she must needs be always responsible to the painful -as well as the ecstatic emotions.</p> - -<p>In her habit of telling him everything that happened -in her life there was one thing that she -had kept. The nearer it came, the more vivid -grew her prescience of what awaited her. The -strain of this fresh anxiety was consuming her. -Would she have strength to hold out?</p> - -<p>She was whiter, her cheeks had not quite that -rose bloom she had brought with her out of the -air and sunshine. Under this weight she went -steadfastly on, in silence.</p> - -<p>Glenn saw this. He had told her she was -working too hard. He could see that her health -was not up to the mark. When there was a -cloud, or the shadow of a cloud upon her face, -he saw it. She should see a doctor. He told her -that repeatedly. Honest as she was, she could -not bring herself to tell him that she was too -poor. Already she had battled through the heat -of the long summer, in need of medical assistance.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> -She was living up to her income, and -found it difficult to furnish the bare necessities -and pay for just half the lessons she had counted -on. There was no hope of shortening the three -years except by increasing her practice. This -she determined to do, six hours a day instead of -three.</p> - -<p>“I believe you would stay up in that room and -mold,” Glenn said one day as they walked in the -sun by the river. “You surely could find time for -an outing once a day for an hour or two.” He -was puzzled to know why she had declined to -walk with him of late. It did not occur to him -that lack of time was her excuse.</p> - -<p>“You have your lessons but four days in the -week,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Only two now,” she corrected him.</p> - -<p>“Then you have changed your plans!”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And how many hours a day do you devote -to your practicing?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, several; it depends upon my humor and -strength.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think you consider the strength,” he -said as he looked at her. “You are tired now, -why didn’t you tell me? Sit here and rest a little -before going back.”</p> - -<p>As they took a seat on the high edge of the -river, there was something like a sob of exhaustion -in her breath.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Esther! How could you?” seeing how -faint she was. Her cheek fell in one hand.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you tell me you were tired?”</p> - -<p>“The air was so bracing, I kept thinking I -would feel better directly. How stupid of me to -give out so quickly.”</p> - -<p>His tender little cares for her comfort, in small -things, had often made her ashamed and afraid -she was a burden to him.</p> - -<p>“Did the doctor give you a tonic when you saw -him?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t been to him yet.”</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews looked away across the blue<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> -water. His heart understood. He knew by her -face that the coldest thing on earth was clamping -at her heart. Presently he turned back to her.</p> - -<p>“How good a friend do you count me?”</p> - -<p>“The best I have in the world.”</p> - -<p>“Good enough to ask anything of me—everything?”</p> - -<p>She sat in silence, taking her hand softly away -from the support of her face.</p> - -<p>“Will you answer me?”</p> - -<p>“There are some things that I would ask of -nobody that lives.”</p> - -<p>Glenn slightly raised his broad shoulders and -lowered them with a sigh.</p> - -<p>“I am disappointed in our friendship. It has -failed.”</p> - -<p>She reflected a moment; “I don’t deserve that -from you.”</p> - -<p>“Nor do I deserve what you have just put upon -me.” It had struck him like a pang. The sweet -sense of her faith—her dependence upon him—had -been the very dearest emotion of his life. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> -strengthened him, to feel that she might lean -hard upon him. He was not willing that the -pressure should be lessened.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to pass for more than I am -worth. If I have fallen short of what you expected -of me, I don’t blame you for putting me -down on the common level with everybody.”</p> - -<p>If her sorrow had been his own he could not -have felt it more deeply. “Only I am disappointed, -that’s all.”</p> - -<p>She was distressed to the soul; his sympathy -for her had been so courageously beautiful, so -exquisitely true, that she could not bear the idea -of disappointing him, or allowing him to feel that -she underrated his value.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know men very well, but I know you -are not like the others. Nothing could be very -hard to bear, because you are my friend. I welcome -the days which bring you to me. You have -been my fortification.”</p> - -<p>“Then prove it,” the soft answer came back.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> -“I know that something distresses you. Tell me -of it, and let me help you.”</p> - -<p>“It’s nothing that you could change.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know? Let me judge that.”</p> - -<p>“No, not now, sometime I will tell you if you -can soften things for me.”</p> - -<p>Her keen refinement would not let her talk to -him of her poverty.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Richmond Briarley</span> had never asked any -questions about Esther Powel; she was Glenn’s -friend, and that was all.</p> - -<p>“I saw Miss Powel,” he said, as he and Glenn -sat over their lunch. “I nearly got past before -I recognized her. She has changed. She has -been ill?”</p> - -<p>“No, I think not,” Glenn answered. “She’s -been working hard, and she hasn’t been used to -work. I am going away on my vacation to-morrow. -I’ve been wondering if there wasn’t some -nice place, just outside of town, where she might -go. She needs the rest, the change.” Glenn Andrews -made no secret of his kindly interest. He -and Richmond Briarley had long been closely -intimate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span></p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with my yacht? The old -thing might sink if it knew there was a woman -aboard, but let it sink. It would give you a -chance to show your heroism.”</p> - -<p>“Would you come along?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no; I might not get ashore. Really I -have other plans, but it is easy enough to get a -crowd. There’s Mrs. Low and Kent.”</p> - -<p>“Both on the other side, won’t be back before -winter.” Andrews looked worried as he spoke.</p> - -<p>“Damn it, I couldn’t do it anyhow; I’ve promised -to go to the Adirondacks.”</p> - -<p>Briarley glanced at him. “Another woman?”</p> - -<p>“Several, Jack and his wife will be along.” -Even in the intimacy of their friendship Richmond -Briarley had never asked that much before. -Glenn Andrews alone knew how hard was -the sense of finding himself bound through overwhelming -conviction of duty.</p> - -<p>“I was out to dinner with Jack last night. You -couldn’t look at him and doubt such a thing as -love, yet Marie was always a little tyrant. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> -made me wonder, after all, what kind of a wife -made a man happiest.”</p> - -<p>“I can tell you, a dead one.”</p> - -<p>“Honestly I believe he would have gone stark -mad if he hadn’t won her. He worships her.”</p> - -<p>“He’d have come out without a scratch. My -observation is that a man can get over not getting -a girl easier than he can get over getting -her.”</p> - -<p>“I believe in marriage—it’s the only decent -way to live, but I wouldn’t care for my wife the -way he does; my regard wouldn’t have that self-sacrifice -in it. I’d want a woman to minister to -my comfort, put mustard plasters on me when I -was sick.”</p> - -<p>“But the wife. What would she get in return?”</p> - -<p>“My name, for the sake of which I would sacrifice -the most precious gift that could come into -a man’s life—a woman whom I could have loved -and by whom I could have been loved.”</p> - -<p>“A pretty theory, but, ye gods! the practice.” -Briarley laid down his napkin and leaned back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> -from the table, staring at the other contemplatively.</p> - -<p>“Andrews, for a man of your logic, you are -confoundedly disappointing. I’d have thought -you’d have very fantastic ideals of marriage—of -the woman that was to make your home. You -claim that your philosophy is in straight lines. -There are two ways of making a straight line, -horizontal and perpendicular, then they cross. -You think it is infamous to marry for money, -and you have tabooed your pet hobby,” he said -with an ironical curl of the lip. “Five years ago, -before you had got your bearings, you might -have humored such a whimsical freak of that individuality -of yours, but now you would struggle -devilishly before you would spoil your life.”</p> - -<p>“I have theories, not just to talk about, but to -live by. My philosophy is extraordinarily simple. -You can’t have the pie and eat it too.”</p> - -<p>With a reflective survey of his friend, Briarley -commenced with a kind of confidential frankness.</p> - -<p>“If you are to make marriage a commodity,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> -why not be brutally practical? You are a very -decent sort of a chap, and fame, for you, is on -the up grade. You could marry money. A poor -married man might as well be a street-car mule -and be done with it. Talk about it being easier -for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than -a rich man to go to heaven, why it’s easier for a -whole drove of them to get through than for man -to get anywhere without money.”</p> - -<p>“You are very good to care anything about it, -but I have quite decided in my mind what I shall -do with that problem,” Glenn announced with -resolute calmness. The other lit a cigar, and -leaned back in comfort.</p> - -<p>“I’ll swear you provoke me, and I don’t know -why I should give a hang. Self-will sometimes -degenerates—then it is stubbornness—but I -suppose every fellow has a right to sign his own -death warrant if he chooses, and failure is a death -warrant.”</p> - -<p>“There are some things you know and some -that you don’t know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> - -<p>“And a devilish lot that nobody will ever -know,” said Briarley, as he flicked the ashes from -his cigar.</p> - -<p>There was a tender spot in his iron heart for -Glenn Andrews. He was too noble, too talented, -to lose in sacrifice the possibilities of so brilliant -a future.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">They</span> were strolling together in the art gallery. -It was the first time that Glenn had seen -Esther since returning from his vacation. He -stopped to admire a picture, for the second time, -pointing out its beauties for her. She appreciated -his interpretations, and her acute understanding -grew more beautiful to him.</p> - -<p>“I never look at such work,” he said, “without -wondering what it cost its creator. The gift -of art is great, sacred, yet it is one long term of -self-denial.”</p> - -<p>“I know that,” Esther assented. She was beginning -to realize its draining demands. She -had brightened a trifle to-day in spite of it. A -little of the old impulsive blooming beauty had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> -come back. The brisk walk through the park, in -the keen, sweet autumn weather might have -heightened that—and Glenn’s return doubtless -had something to do with it.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Low has a picture in her gallery by this -same artist. She has one of the finest private -galleries in the city. You shall see it, I believe, -now that she’s back. I promised her I’d bring -you to one of her receptions. She’s noted for -having people who are amazingly clever, or beautiful -or something of the sort. Fortunately I -come under the class, ‘Should auld acquaintance -be forgot?’ But you are to do your turn. She expects -it. We will go next Tuesday to her opening -night. You will see a live lord. Her daughter, -who married one, brought him home with -her.”</p> - -<p>“Will it make me like you any less?”</p> - -<p>“I should hope not. Rather more, for he has -brutal manners, and you would never think she -held a higher place than his stenographer. But -she doesn’t mind that, she has a title. He draws<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> -his allowance from her and his inspiration from -elsewhere. I fancy they are rather contented.”</p> - -<p>“Contented!” Esther lifted a solemn face to -him.</p> - -<p>“It seems to me that a marriage without love -would crush all that was sweetest and finest in a -woman’s nature. Marriage for love is the dearest -gift to any soul—it is the highest ideal of -God’s world.” She was in one of her intense -moods.</p> - -<p>“But if it be for anything else?” He encouraged -her to go on.</p> - -<p>“It’s a desecration. Love is not only the -holiest thing in the life of a woman, but it’s life -itself for the man. It makes him whatever he -becomes. The righteous altar-vow is a delight -and to obey is the cry of the heart if it speaks the -words with the lips.”</p> - -<p>“You know we never agreed upon that subject. -I consider marriage merely an incident -in life.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> - -<p>“But the one decisive incident of it all,” she returned.</p> - -<p>They had left the gallery and were going -through the park. His glance wandered often -from her face to a glad contemplation of the -vivid coloring of the woods.</p> - -<p>“Mightn’t a man marry for honor?” finally he -asked.</p> - -<p>“Give me an example.”</p> - -<p>“I am not trying to convert you,” he said, disclaiming -all responsibility.</p> - -<p>“Tell me of a case?”</p> - -<p>His face contracted nervously. “Let’s talk -about something else.”</p> - -<p>With a little impatient gesture, “Oh, give me -an instance, it will keep me from imagining -things.” She stopped by a rustic seat with -an independent lift of the head and would -go no further. She felt that she deserved -his confidence and trust. Upon her face were -tears of pained emotion. She did not know her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> -real place in his life and whenever she struggled -for it her suffering was intense.</p> - -<p>There was a pause. Glenn decided to humor -her. Taking a seat beside her, he began in his -tone of tranquil philosophy:</p> - -<p>“Suppose a man—young—under an infatuation, -becomes engaged to a girl. When he is -older, his ideas change; he gets over it, she -doesn’t. Although he has a sincere regard and -respect for her, in his heart there is another ideal. -He regrets being bound. What should he do?”</p> - -<p>“I hate the word ‘bound.’ Marriage is not to -bind, but to privilege. Without love it would -be nothing more than slavery. Every human -soul revolts at that.”</p> - -<p>“But an engagement is like a gambling debt; it -has no witnesses. It puts a man upon his honor.”</p> - -<p>“Might he not have the nobility to assume his -vows, without the fortitude to endure them manfully? -That would make each think nothing of -love and little of life. I believe it is impossible -for a man to be true to his wife with another<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -woman’s image in his heart; in spite of outward -appearances the emptiness is there—convention -cannot crush out nature. If he took a vow like -that, he’d be false to it; hypocracy is dishonor.” -She suddenly fronted him.</p> - -<p>“What would you do if you were the man?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t make an example of me,” he said -in a hard voice. “You know me well enough -to guess what I would do.”</p> - -<p>She turned her eyes to his face; her expression -changed. “You would be true to what you -thought was your honor.”</p> - -<p>“I hope I would fulfill any promise I should -make.” He had always had himself in command, -yet he was sometimes conscious of a fear -that Esther might have dreamed some touch of -heroism in his nature, which was not there. Her -ideal of him had been impressed upon her immaturity.</p> - -<p>“I have a story about a man’s honor,” she said -after an awkward silence, lifting a small paper -volume in her hand. “The young man on my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> -floor asked me to take it and read it. He said it -was ‘simply great.’”</p> - -<p>“‘Simply great,’ was it?” Glenn said, taking -the book. “Certainly he is bold and unconventional -enough to presume to offer you a book -when you have scarcely a speaking acquaintance -with him.”</p> - -<p>“He brought it to my door one rainy day; I -took it as a kindness.” Reading the French -title, Glenn’s eyes took on the glint of steel.</p> - -<p>“Have you read it?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No, I thought we might begin it together to-day.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we won’t,” he told her, frankly. “It is -not the kind for you to read. When the young -man inquires for his book you can send him to -me.”</p> - -<p>Glenn was never more savagely angry as he -doubled the book and thrust it into his pocket. -He would keep from her that part of the world’s -evil at least.</p> - -<p>“Have I done anything you don’t like?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> - -<p>“No, but it maddens me to see anybody try to -impose upon you. Don’t accept any more courtesies -from that class; I’ll bring you all the books -that you want to read.”</p> - -<p>“You are very good; I’ll try to remember that,” -she promised. He hoped she would. His care -of her was like the fond tending of a flower that -has been unwittingly left in a fetid atmosphere.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Low’s</span> receptions were more cordial -and less formal than the usual social affairs. Glenn -Andrews and Esther arrived late. The richest -Oriental splendor surrounded them. There were -a thousand rare souvenirs of foreign lands to -please the eye. The colors in the tapestries and -rugs were of that exquisitely tender hue that -comes only from age. The largest rug, covered -with inscriptions from Saadi, the Persian poet, -seemed to have caught more of the charm and -sentiment of the Orient. Glenn was calling Esther’s -attention to it while they waited for a -chance to speak to the hostess. Red lights -glowed warmly through the iron-fretted lanterns -swinging low. A hidden harpist was playing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> -soft, sweeping strains of sound. Mrs. Low -caught a glimpse of the late arrivals. She met -them with hands outstretched, a radiant smile -of welcome upon her face.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Glenn, Miss Powel; charmed, I assure -you. Mr. Kent has been waiting to have this -young lady accompany him,” she said, as that -gentleman joined them.</p> - -<p>“You came just in time, Miss Powel. Our -friend, Mr. Andrews, has told me that you have -been good enough to take the trouble to learn -the ‘Serenade’ that is to be in our new opera. -Mrs. Low has out-talked me and made me feel -that my friends should be first to pass judgment -before the critics get a chance.”</p> - -<p>Esther hesitated a moment, smiling.</p> - -<p>“That will be charming,” Glenn whispered to -her, inclining his head. He smiled slightly as his -eyes met hers.</p> - -<p>His approval was what she had waited for—that -was plain. The next moment she had graciously -indicated her willingness by taking up her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> -violin that Mrs. Low had sent for before she -came.</p> - -<p>The sight of Stephen Kent at the piano and -Esther beside him made the rooms silent in an -instant and stilled the unseen harpist. Glenn Andrews -kept close watch upon the crowd as it -stood in mute attention. It was to note how she -was received. He had forgotten his share in the -honors. Stephen Kent sang the passionately -poetic words; the exquisite commingling of the -voice and violin suddenly awoke in the poet the -thought of what sincerity of the soul there was -in those words.</p> - -<p>In the heat of the enthusiasm that followed -the encore some one grasped Glenn Andrews’ -hands. “And those lines are perfectly exquisite. -I am wild to hear all of your libretto.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed!” he answered, staring, and that -moment it was the effort of his life to know what -she meant.</p> - -<p>“Libretto?” he said to himself. “Oh, when I -heard such playing I forgot I had written anything,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> -he declared, with a laugh. He was extremely -shocked to discover that he had composed -the words.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you a little crazy?” the expression on -her face asked, as Mrs. Low came up and led -him away. She had become devotedly attached -to him during their life in Paris.</p> - -<p>“If that is a fair sample of your opera, it will -be most enchanting.” The hearty words carried -with them something of the sincere interest -she felt.</p> - -<p>“You are very kind, Mrs. Low. Your approval -is a great compliment to our poor efforts. You, of -course, know its success means a better future -to both of us; the financial part of it being of no -slight importance.”</p> - -<p>“It’s going to succeed; it has the merit and the -backing. Give yourself no anxiety. Kent certainly -has done his part well. It is his master -effort.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Low sank deep in the gorgeous cushions -and looked across to where Esther stood besieged.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> -She was so unspoiled and direct of manner. -There was something picturesquely Southern -in her simple gown.</p> - -<p>“Tell me something more about her. Is she -in earnest or does she play with her art for the -same reason that a kitten plays with her ball?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she is in dead earnest, Mrs. Low. She -is overworking in her enthusiasm.”</p> - -<p>Glenn caught Esther’s eye as he spoke. There -was a touch of pathos in the smile.</p> - -<p>“That will never do. You might persuade her -to take it more slowly.” She stopped a moment, -looking up with guarded eyes. Glenn Andrews -was not big print to her. The depths of his nature -had to be read between the lines. In her -heart she wondered if he would resent the questioning.</p> - -<p>He studied her magnificent repose, that -matched his.</p> - -<p>“She has genius. I have become quite interested -in her already,” said Mrs. Low.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p> - -<p>A shade of relief passed over Glenn’s features -as he heard this.</p> - -<p>“I have known her for years. The poor child -has neither parents nor friends to restrain or aid -her. She has not reached that point in her art -where she can earn a dollar. I have been thinking -many ways of trying to help her. It must -be some way by which she feels that she is earning -it. I know her so well.”</p> - -<p>“It is not often that I ask such close questions, -but this time it is because of my interest. -What are you to her?”</p> - -<p>Her tone did not imply idle curiosity. He -clasped his hands thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“Honestly, I don’t know how to answer you. -I am her friend, brother, critic—I suppose. If -I had to select one word to express my relation -to her, I should say, chaperone.”</p> - -<p>“Chaperone,” she repeated, with charming -grace. “That is a virgin field for a man’s possibilities, -but since I think of it, I had a great deal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> -rather trust some men I know to look after a -child of mine than most women.”</p> - -<p>“Coming here alone, as Miss Powel did, and -with very little capital, it was hard for her to find -herself face to face with the world. But she has -determination. She actually steals hours from her -rest. She must have relief from the strain or it -will crush all the life out of her soul.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; something must be done,” answering -his intensity with a sweet interest. “Couldn’t -I help you in some way?”</p> - -<p>He reflected seriously a moment.</p> - -<p>“I believe you could. Suppose you got her to -play here four times during the month and let -her believe you had rewarded her by paying her -twenty-five dollars each time. I would give you -my check for the hundred dollars each month.”</p> - -<p>“That will be just the thing. Later she will -be able to get some good engagements at drawing -room recitals.”</p> - -<p>“Would you indeed be willing to let me help<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> -her through you, Mrs. Low?” he asked, with -some confusion.</p> - -<p>“I am only too happy to be able to add that -little to so loyal a project.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you. Your co-operation means more -to me than you can possibly imagine.”</p> - -<p>“Your friend has been telling me of your work, -and how brave you are,” Mrs. Low said, as she -took Esther’s hand at parting. “I shall come -soon to see you. I think I can add a little sunshine -to your life.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Glenn</span> saw Esther a few days afterward and -found her unusually cheerful. Her face had a -new light, and she had good reason for it. She -spoke with a buoyancy of expression that Glenn -had not lately heard. She told how Mrs. Low -had arranged for her to play during the entire -winter at her receptions. This simplified the -complex future. She reflected a little more calmly -on her condition. All these months she had -tried to think of some way out of it. She had -thought of everything—except giving up.</p> - -<p>She made friends. She was interested in -everything. In her appreciation and confiding -ways Mrs. Low found a degree of satisfaction and -intense pleasure in the reflected happiness from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -Esther’s life. Glenn encouraged the tonic of -social life for her as something needful to everybody. -Under his own eye, he was willing to let -her glimpse at it in all its phases; the soullessness -of it, its petty intrigues and foibles. The flawlessness -of her own mind would itself be a shield. -Her contact with such frivolity would be like that -of satin and sandpaper. With intense interest -he watched her career during the season. He -was her severest and most unsparing critic, although -he sometimes believed that it hurt him -more than her. Their lives were moving along -together with unconscious accord. There was an -undercurrent of deeper sympathy lying dormant. -He was making her a part of his life. He would -have denied it, however, had any man put this -truth into words and accused him. A thousand -times he had told himself, reassuringly, that he -was commander still. He reasoned that her art -would soon be sufficiently lofty, sufficiently complete -for her to hear any decree that fate might -read to her. New friends, fresh scenes, homage to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> -her art—all these would help to fill her life. This -was a conviction born of his own philosophy. -He fancied he could already perceive a more independent -air; a less frequent turning to him for -guidance and protection. This elusive, half-mysterious -charm she had acquired, he misinterpreted. -It was largely due to the different lights -that had been thrown upon him.</p> - -<p>She had been repeatedly stunned by chance-heard -remarks of his betrothal. When Glenn -heard that Esther’s name was to figure prominently -in the most brilliant recitals of the season, -there was a buoyant sweetness in the frank radiance -of hope, the eager expectancy and passionate -faith in her ability. She had been tasting -some of the fruition of her toil. Of this he was -proud.</p> - -<p>The night came. It was a fashionable throng -that poured into the Metropolitan. The fascinating -twirl of jewelled lorgnettes and the flashing -movement of the vast array of wealth and beauty -made the two wide, innocent eyes that peered out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> -from behind the curtain, reel—drunk with the -wine of enthusiasm; this little atom who was to -win or lose before this great audience of connoisseurs. -Win she must. No girl could shake -off the memory of so public a humiliation. The -sight confused her. She trembled a little and -slipped back to her dressing-room. “I feel as -though the judgment day were at hand,” she -said. “My heart is bigger than my whole body.”</p> - -<p>“You darling, it was always that.” Mrs. Low -gathered her proudly in her arms, as she spoke.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been?” Esther left a warm -kiss on her throat. “Up to the very same thing -you were, looking for a particular face, I know.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take another survey presently. Of course -he will be here. Oh! what a dream of a gown; -you look like a vision from heaven.” Mrs. Low -eyed her closely, fearful lest the misplacement of -the slightest detail might mar the perfect whole.</p> - -<p>“This must be the laurel crowning of your season.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p> - -<p>Her delicate face was beaming; she felt it -rather than hoped it.</p> - -<p>“This ordeal means everything to me. I am -not as frightened as I expected. Honestly, I feel -as if I could make music without strings or bow. -Something in the very air charges me with a -wild, savage inspiration. Go, look again, now. -I know he is here.”</p> - -<p>Several minutes passed and she did not return, -so Esther went out to the wings while the first -numbers were being rendered.</p> - -<p>“Now, my dear!” whispered Mrs. Low, as the -call came for Esther. “Do your best. Glenn is in -the right of the centre aisle, half-way back with -the woman in pink. I know you won’t disappoint -him.”</p> - -<p>These words came from the gentlest heart in -the world, with no idea of their tragic significance.</p> - -<p>Esther stepped to her place on the stage.</p> - -<p>The bored faces of the leaders of the orchestra -brightened. Every instrument was ready to respond<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> -to the first notes of her obligato. Even in -that surging human sea she was conscious of -dumbly searching for Glenn Andrews. As she -stood slightly swaying with the first few strains, -she saw him—his head thrown back with a superb -gesture—his features all alight from -the ideal soul within—his dreamy, mystical -eyes full of expectancy. He was in -a state of rapturous anticipation. In the -“woman in pink” she recognized as being -the one with whom society had intimately -coupled his name.</p> - -<p>What a heart-thrust! She blanched at the -thought of it. And of all the nights of her life, -this one—her very own—was most cruel.</p> - -<p>There was a rush of resentment through her -being, stronger, for the instant, than everything. -She could not resist its influence; discord followed -discord until the orchestra was forced to -stop.</p> - -<p>The scene before her whirled so fast that it -made her dizzy. She felt blindly across the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> -strings for a harmony which she had lost. Glenn -Andrews was conscious of a curious tightening -at the throat as he saw her pitiful struggles. His -heart almost stopped. She was failing. This was -maddening. He had had many disappointments -in his life, but this was one he could not face. -Abruptly he rose and rushed out into the aisle. -The humiliation was too bitter.</p> - -<p>There was a little ripple of excitement. Esther -saw him going; but still did not realize that his -seat there had only been a coincidence. She -hated, she adored him. The moment seemed supreme -of all the moments of her life.</p> - -<p>A feeling of longing unutterable came over -her—longing to recall him—a feeling that rose -to ever fuller power until her whole being vibrated -with the desire. She tightened her grasp -of the instrument to steady her convulsive trembling. -Glenn stopped. A new thrill was creeping -through the music. Her eyes evinced a conquering -fire born of internal despair. She was playing -now as if inspired by some power above and beyond<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> -all things of earth. Through it all ran the -shrill, sweet strains of her long-pent soul. Glenn -stood immovable, with his eyes fixed upon her.</p> - -<p>The sublime passion throbbing through the -music was a sound that a human soul could not -resist, as if the player’s whole nature were speaking -to him. It pleaded, commanded, until it -smote each tense chord of his life—compelled -completest harmony. He followed with eager -looks every gesture of her bow. His lips broke -into a proud smile, revealing all he felt. It ended -in an echo, transcendent, sovereign, supreme. -The violin fell at her feet. The very air was -saturated with the incense of applause.</p> - -<p>He awakened as though from a dream to share -in it. He grew almost hysterical as the audience -begged for an encore. The curtain rose. Esther, -flushed with her success, almost gasped as she -reappeared. There was a rain of flowers, falling -from everywhere. Glenn felt his heart beat after -her in an ecstasy of longing. The curtain rose -again and again. He had never known the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> -height or depth of their natures before. He -adored her—Esther, whose growth in beauty, -power, glory he had watched with boyish tenderness. -All that he had admired, and had not -dared to hope for, were united in her. From the -depths of his being there came to him the first -over-mastering passion of his life—in a love that -he had forbidden himself.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_WOMAN">THE WOMAN.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center no-indent">————◆————</p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.</h3> - -<p>Glenn sent his congratulations with a lot of -flowers. He did not trust himself to call. That -was not indifference, but too much feeling. The -following week he sent her a few lines:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="no-indent">“My dear Esther;</p> - -<p>“It will be impossible for me to take you to the -musicale, but I have arranged to have Mr. Kent -call for you, and I feel sure that you will be in -good hands.”</p> -</div> - -<p>This note of mild regret made her a little cross, -as it was the first time he had ever consented to -have her go out alone with another man. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> -seemed nothing else to do but submit, wash a -tear of vexation from her face, and be ready to -go when Mr. Kent called.</p> - -<p>From Glenn Andrews’ point of view this privilege -was an endorsement of the man he had selected. -She was his treasure and he could never -entrust it to any man in whom he had not the -staunchest faith. Later he learned through Stephen -Kent that they had gone together and the -affair had been as pleasant as usual. That was -satisfactory. He would have them go again together.</p> - -<p>Ever since the concert Glenn had tried to think -only of his work. His calmness at such a crisis -at first led him into the belief that it would be -easy to hold himself in check. The revelation -that had come to him upon that night had been -the work of a strong thing but for a moment. -What he was now he would remain. How little -did he dream of what a sharp conflict he would -have in the strife to conquer himself.</p> - -<p>He could not stay away too long—he looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> -upon it in a measure as his duty to see how the -infrequent visits were affecting her.</p> - -<p>It was not until he was taking up his hat to -leave that he approached the subject of Stephen -Kent as her escort to the next musicale.</p> - -<p>“He will be very glad to have you go with -him.” Glenn pressed her hand in his and he saw -tears in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Esther!” He laid aside his hat, drew her -down beside him on the divan. He could not -leave until he had traced those tears to their -source. “What does this mean, tell me?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t ask me that!” She folded her -hands before her as if in mute emphasis.</p> - -<p>He was not suspicious, but this made him -afraid—he felt as if something had struck him.</p> - -<p>“Did Stephen Kent dare to hurt you. If so, -it’s my fault—I introduced you to him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Glenn, let it go, but nothing would -induce me to go with him again.” She felt the -color go out of her face as she became conscious -of his fixed gaze.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> - -<p>“Where has your frankness and freedom -gone?” He drew her toward him and compelled -her to meet his eyes.</p> - -<p>His voice was full of power.</p> - -<p>“You must tell me what Stephen Kent has -done.”</p> - -<p>“You like him; I am afraid you will be angry, -disappointed.” She made no effort to free herself.</p> - -<p>He could not draw a confession from her as -he sat some minutes waiting. “Have you that -little confidence in my friendship?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to make you feel that you have -not the friendship of that man.”</p> - -<p>“Then you know that I haven’t.”</p> - -<p>“I know that he told me horrid, false things -of your life abroad, and tried to make me lean -upon him instead of you. He tried to persuade -me to do all the things and go to all the places -that you had warned me of. If I had known by -nothing else that would have made me know it -would be wrong—wickedly wrong.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> - -<p>“Wolf!” He could scarcely hold his grasp for -the trembling of his hands.</p> - -<p>“I’ll settle with Stephen Kent,” he said, aloud. -“He must answer to me for this.”</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews’ face looked manlier than ever -in its rage.</p> - -<p>Esther’s heart stood still for a moment, then -beat wildly in its fear.</p> - -<p>“Don’t risk yourself for me. I’m so sorry -I told you.”</p> - -<p>“Now I shall take care of myself and of him -also. Don’t be fretting about the outcome. This -is the last time you need be annoyed with it.” -He stroked her hair, and there was a calming -tenderness in the way he did it.</p> - -<p>She could have borne the indignity alone if -only Glenn had not brought the subject up. She -had never meant to tell it to anyone.</p> - -<p>Glenn left the house and went at once, only -to find that Mr. Kent was not at home. Several -days in succession he called with the same result. -He wondered what impulse would lead him to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> -if he should meet him by chance. Delay could -scarcely weaken his determination to even up -this score.</p> - -<p>When Glenn went to the regular meeting of -the club a few days later, it was a little shock of -surprise that the name of Stephen Kent was up -for membership. With a delicate tact he avoided -any part of the proceedings that was not forced -upon him. When it came his turn to cast his ballot -for the man of whom he could have said a -week ago he was all honor, he started, trembling -violently as he let fall from his hand—a black -ball.</p> - -<p>The results of the ballot came as a great surprise -to every man of them except the one who -had turned the course. Questioning, no doubt, -went round the room and there was a ripple of -comment passing among the groups after the -meeting was over and the members were going -out. At the foot of the stairs one man met Stephen -Kent and told him the result, which he had -come over to learn. The disappointment in his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> -face was intense as he took a few steps more, -taking out his penknife to cut his cigar, and met -Glenn Andrews.</p> - -<p>“Look here, Andrews, what does this mean? -They tell me I am blackballed.”</p> - -<p>“They told you the truth,” he said, coolly.</p> - -<p>“Well! that’s damned strange.” Kent’s answer -had in it the sting of humiliation.</p> - -<p>“If I knew the man who did it, I would thrash -him within an inch of his life. The sneak!”</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews’ eyes were dilated and flashing.</p> - -<p>“Stephen Kent, you don’t have to go very far -to find him. I am the man.”</p> - -<p>“You; and may I ask why?”</p> - -<p>“Because your dishonorable conduct to Miss -Powel proved to me that you are not a gentleman.”</p> - -<p>He was fearless in speech and action. His -exultant manliness made the other cower.</p> - -<p>“A man generally knows the lay of the land. -She is pretty free.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p> - -<p>“Free, my God!” Glenn Andrews’ face flashed -fire. “You are a liar!”</p> - -<p>The next moment the two grappled. A crowd -gathered around in wild excitement. Before they -could be parted the battle had been fought. With -the first lift of his hand, Stephen Kent’s penknife -had slipped across and cut the radial artery -of Glenn Andrews’ wrist. Regardless of the flow -of blood, he had dealt the blow that laid the -other at his feet.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was several days before Glenn felt able to -resume his work. He kept away from Esther -until he could give himself a chance to recover -from the acute anaemia from which he suffered. -Finally, when he called, he found that she had -left that place, and her address could not be given -him.</p> - -<p>He was worried and bitterly wounded.</p> - -<p>This girl, wild of heart, full of all sorts of emotions, -full of unreasoning impulses who had once -been easy for him to understand, had gained a -complexity and subtlety new to him.</p> - -<p>Yet he could do nothing now but treat it as a -recurrence of her old fits of childish petulance. -If, by some unaccountable chance, there was any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> -finality in this step of hers, and her motive was -to break off their old blameless intimacy, he -would watch over her from afar. There was no -malice in his heart for her. Nobody could make -him believe a story, the truth of which would be -unworthy of her. Yet the dim, persistent sense -of dissatisfaction which he tried so hard to stifle, -under a rush of work and recreation, would not -vanish. Time, which he filled with the fever of -his literary passion, together with keeping in -touch with a few old friends, had become so -strained, so intense, that in spite of the firm -strength he had, the inordinate will, sheer physical -weariness conquered, the tense nerves for -a time relaxed.</p> - -<p>It was in the latter part of April that Richmond -Briarley happened to stop in a flower store to -order a palm for some friend. At the counter -stood a slender girl. There was something very -unusual about her or he would not have given -her a moment’s thought, nor the second look.</p> - -<p>Her hair swept back in deep waves from her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> -brow, under the wide, soft hat. The dark blue of -her eyes seemed to gently motion as she looked -at the delicate orchids the clerk held across to -her.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I want.”</p> - -<p>Then she turned away as he went to wrap them -for her. She felt a sudden swelling of the heart, -as she faced Richmond Briarley.</p> - -<p>“How do you do, Miss Powel,” he said in -acknowledgment of her recognition.</p> - -<p>“I have quite lost track of you since our friend -Andrews has been ill. You’ll be glad to know -his doctor now thinks he may pull through.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Glenn ill—dangerously ill?” She was -white to the lips.</p> - -<p>The look on her face he would never forget -while he lived.</p> - -<p>“Where? Where?” she said, eagerly clasping -her hands. “Let me go to him.”</p> - -<p>“He has someone—you can do nothing. She -does everything.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> - -<p>He said very little beyond the bare statement, -but his answer added to the pain of her wound.</p> - -<p>There was nothing she could do. This was the -bitterest, cruelest thought—she was not needed—she -who would have died to spare him pain.</p> - -<p>Richmond Briarley knew what it meant; his -heart was touched for her.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to see him now, if you care to send -him a word.”</p> - -<p>“Tell him how sorry I am, and would you take -these flowers to him—orchids are his favorite -flowers. I was going to wear them to a musicale -to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly I will take them.”</p> - -<p>“Wait just a minute.”</p> - -<p>She took the pencil of her chatelaine and wrote -her new address on the box; her fingers were -trembling, so she doubted if he would recognize -her signature.</p> - -<p>She smiled a little as he lifted his hat, when -he bade her good-by. Pride was a matter of -principle with her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span></p> - -<p>What she suffered in the days that came after -could not be told.</p> - -<p>It was early in May before Glenn was able to -be out again.</p> - -<p>To see Esther was one of his first visits. She -greeted him with a grave, solicitous face.</p> - -<p>“I am glad you are better. I didn’t even know -it until you had passed the crisis.”</p> - -<p>“Whose fault was it?” That old perversity -had not been subdued by suffering.</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t; not to-day, anyhow.” She put her -hands up and gently turned down the collar of his -coat. “Come, now; lie down on the divan. -You’ve overdone your strength.”</p> - -<p>His fingers in her folded grasp were trembling.</p> - -<p>“I’m not equal to my work yet,” he said, as he -stretched out among the pillows, closing his eyes -wearily.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t have come if it had not been your -birthday,” turning his head, revealing the painful -clearness of his profile.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span></p> - -<p>“I remembered you had someone who loved -you; to think of it always before—now there’s -nobody.”</p> - -<p>Sitting beside him she stroked his forehead -very tenderly.</p> - -<p>“You were always thoughtful of me.”</p> - -<p>They were silent for a time.</p> - -<p>“Sometimes I longed for the warm, sweet -touch of your hand on my head,” he said at last; -“it throbbed so, and ached.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, why didn’t you send for me?”</p> - -<p>“You forget, I didn’t know where to send.”</p> - -<p>She paled under the answer. “But you had -someone you wanted more.” She said this with -an impulsive touch of resentment.</p> - -<p>“She was the best one I ever had. Professional -nurses are not always as solicitous or as -kind.”</p> - -<p>“Professional,” Esther repeated to herself, betraying -no sign of the relief it gave her.</p> - -<p>The soft wind moved the curtains and let a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -flash of sunlight in. Glenn looked out; the air -was full of spring.</p> - -<p>He could not but think of the old days, the -paths upon which they had strolled now lay -green and solitary through field and woods.</p> - -<p>For a man who loved to steep himself in the -sunshine and open air, he but seldom indulged -himself.</p> - -<p>“Esther, get your hat; it’s too fine a day to be -indoors. I’ll take you away, out to Van Cortlandt -Park.”</p> - -<p>“Are you able to stand the trip? Don’t go -just for my pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“I shall enjoy it more than you will,” he said. -“It’s what I need. Haven’t I always told you -how selfish I was.”</p> - -<p>Without another word she obeyed him, delighted -at the prospect. Van Cortlandt was beautiful. -They took a little boat and went out on -the lake. So precious was the silence—the solitude—the -shadow of the willows, that Glenn allowed -Esther to take the oars he had taught her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> -to handle and stretched himself full length in the -boat. The water trembled under the sweet wind -that blew fresh upon him.</p> - -<p>Esther was in one of her rapturous moods, -gazing with wide, dilated eyes upon the spring -woods opening out to screen the unresponsive -world—leaving them alone together. She could -see it all reviving him like wine.</p> - -<p>“Esther?” The name and touch thrilled her.</p> - -<p>“When they told me I might not get well, I -thought of you—I had something to tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me now.”</p> - -<p>“That was if I had to die.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t speak of your death!” Her voice -thrilled with a passion she herself did not understand.</p> - -<p>“What I said as a child is still true. Life could -not be sweet to me with you out of it.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense! With a great future flashing before -you.”</p> - -<p>“Could any fortune be sweet, or any gift it -brought a woman be worth having, if the one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> -for whom she cared were not there to share it -with her?”</p> - -<p>“A woman’s love is essentially spiritual in its -nature. It does not depend so much upon sight,” -he said.</p> - -<p>She had dropped the oars. They were drifting -dreamily.</p> - -<p>The sun had gone down below the horizon, -leaving purple shadows on its rim. The willows -sent their seductive motions across the face of -the waters.</p> - -<p>She looked at him as though to draw him nearer -and enfold him in her stretched-out arms. The -warm impulses of her heart were warring in their -wild effort to be free. Silence was the language -of youth and love to him—they needed no words.</p> - -<p>The force and the sweetness, the purity and -power of his nature as she interpreted it, was the -complete realization of her beautiful dreams.</p> - -<p>“Have you ever forgiven me for spilling your -blood and leaving a scar?” Her thrillingly delicate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> -touch on his knee swept him with a swift, -vigorous delight.</p> - -<p>“Forgiven! I’ve blessed you. That is something -from you that I shall carry with me through -life. And there’s another I want—a memory. -You never have called me by my name.”</p> - -<p>Looking into his fine, clear face, she felt the -love flowing softly like a fountain in her heart. -“Glenn,” she whispered his beloved name.</p> - -<p>“Esther! dearest!” Drawing her toward him, -he kissed her on her lips as he held her close in -the clasp of his arms with the intensity of his -commanding love. Her hat had fallen off; he -caught the dank fragrance of her hair.</p> - -<p>Something fluttered in her breast—something -new and strange and strong. She did not understand -that she had left girlhood behind and -become a woman. All the woman in her was -quickened by his kiss.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how I love to feel your heart beating -against mine.”</p> - -<p>Her words, her kiss, touched his soul to its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> -depths. He was startled at the depths he had -stirred.</p> - -<p>“Heart! dear heart of mine!” She was in a fit -of adoring fury. Her lips met his, again and -again. She loved him so humanly and yet there -was only the tender throb and thrill of the sensitive -nature in all its refinement. Sweet emotions -shot through her breast.</p> - -<p>“Love me, no matter what comes, Esther, love -me.”</p> - -<p>He too felt some hurting power bound through -his blood, and wrestle with his reserve—his equilibrium.</p> - -<p>His low voice, his soft eyes, held her; not a -tone, not a look but it caressed her.</p> - -<p>The soft shadows, the limpid waters, the open -air—with it altogether he felt a strange softening.</p> - -<p>“You never said sweet words straight from -your heart to me before.”</p> - -<p>“Why words? Instinct, nature, tells us when a -thing is true. That great silent power often -stands between the soul and what it loves. It is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> -too deep for speech. Did you ever drop a pebble -into a well to sound its depth? If it is shallow, -you hear it when it strikes the bottom. But -if you wait and never hear a sound, you know it -is very deep.”</p> - -<p>Her sweet, low laugh rippled out over the -waters.</p> - -<p>“Your laugh is like that of a child in a happy -dream. I hope it will always keep that sound.”</p> - -<p>Straining her to him a moment, he then put -his hands to his face to shut out the dangerous -sweetness.</p> - -<p>“Nobody but you will ever understand what -my nature is, because they have never so nearly -felt it.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true,” he said, “the only difference is -that I know what is best for us and what is not.”</p> - -<p>“To make music, one must have genuine feeling -for it; that is true of love. There has always -been a sympathy between us, but never before -so deep as now. The greater the love, you know, -the stronger the sympathy. Natures so well tempered,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> -so sympathetically adapted, very seldom -can endure; neither can afford to indulge in the -beauty of one he loves, for he may lose his own -seekings in sharing hers. Ideal love is not to be -satisfied.”</p> - -<p>He said this with such an expression of grief -and sentiment that no one could doubt his belief -in his own philosophy.</p> - -<p>This was life indeed. If he could only hold it -forever. He wanted to—he longed to—might -he not desecrate this beautiful soul, by intruding -his upon it for so short a time?</p> - -<p>A sudden chill went through him. The horror -of their ideals being endangered made him draw -back. He had never entirely lost sight of the -delicacy and nobility of the relation. He was her -friend—her protector.</p> - -<p>Slightly moving his position, he said: -“Esther, what is sweeter than comprehensive -sympathy? Each knows the other’s highest aims -and hopes, and each tries to help the other reach -and preserve those ideals. There is something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> -beautiful, noble in the endeavor to sustain the -ideals of one we love, even though they should -not always succeed.”</p> - -<p>“I believe that. The desire, the effort—shouldn’t -that go for something?”</p> - -<p>“I think so, but will you always think it?”</p> - -<p>“I hope I shall.”</p> - -<p>As they anchored alongside the bank, Glenn -held out his hand to help her; her cheeks were -in bloom with life, and he was going home rested, -with all his senses and passions much keener and -many degrees finer in their possibilities.</p> - -<p>“We have had a day of delicious happiness, we -should be thankful for that,” he said. “In a -whole life there are but a few days in which we -really live—we only exist most of the time,” lowering -his voice and looking into her sweet eyes.</p> - -<p>“To be wholly happy is to forget the world -and one’s obligations to it.” There was almost a -caress in the way Glenn took out his handkerchief -and lightly brushed the drops of water from -her skirt. In putting the handkerchief back he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> -touched the pretty trifle—a souvenir to recall her -twenty-first birthday. Twirling it between his -fingers he said:</p> - -<p>“This is for you. Wear it for the sake of the -man who became a boy and learned what May -meant.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Glenn</span> knew now that he had been mistaken. -The heart he had tended drew all its life still -from him. His knowledge of men and women -was great. He could not deceive himself. Nature -demanded a climax. He must advance or -retreat. He realized that he was coming to love -her too well—in a sweeter, nearer way. They -were to each other now more of a necessity than -an inspirational force. He must go away—it -was best: for their art, for their peace of mind. -It was some time before he could tell her this. -He could no longer trust himself to be tender -with her. He dared not risk himself; he was not -equal to it. It seemed to him their companionship -was never so beautiful as now when he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> -about to break it. He was testing his strength -and asking his own soul if it were fit for the work -and the awful sacrifice. It was during a short interview -that he found courage to tell her how -his doctor had advised a change of scene and air. -A sea voyage, with perhaps a year abroad; possibly -Egypt—personally he hardly expected to -get beyond the old yellow city of his youthful -escapades—Paris, where the aromatic breath of -absinthe had tinged the air. There would be no -strain then. She knew what it meant. She knew -it was not for his health alone that he was putting -the sea between them.</p> - -<p>“It may be just what you need to strengthen -you. In travel I fancy you will find oceans of -material for penwork and gulfs of inspiration. -And in Paris, that you have learned to love, you -might know real life and real joy.” The words -cost her an effort, but they were bravely said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Richmond Briarley sat in his office alone that -night. He had just opened his safe and from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> -a package of legal documents drawn a paper -which he unfolded and read, a note secured by -mortgage, now past due. At the bottom it was -signed by the husband and wife. “Albert Winston -and Mildred Hughes Winston.” His lips -clamped, the circular wrinkles deepened round -his mouth. When he first knew Mildred Hughes -he was very young and poorer than he was -young. He had gone away and left her to this -man, who was well launched, expecting her to escape -the hardships of the poor. In time he would -forget her. He remembered how he had told -her so and left her—that day was more to him -than all the rest of his life. It was full of her. -“Forgetfulness!” He had never learned the -meaning of the word. With one swift survey of -the room, he slowly tore off the woman’s signature—this -was the last remnant of a life that had -been lived. As someone opened the door his -dream faded with the sound. The next minute -Glenn Andrews had come in, and was standing -behind him. He rose abruptly, closed the safe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> -door, and hid the small paper in his hand. “Hello, -Andrews.” He held himself down to a semblance -of calm. “I thought it was about time -that you blew in. What are you doing with that -grip?”</p> - -<p>“Taking it up to pack it,” he said, as he took -out cigars for both.</p> - -<p>“Indeed! Are you really off? Are you romancing?”</p> - -<p>“Most of my romancing is set to the same -notes—bank notes. It serves that purpose well -enough. I sail day after to-morrow,” he added, -carelessly.</p> - -<p>“So you are going to kick over the traces, eh? -It’s lucky not to be tied so that you couldn’t -break away.”</p> - -<p>“New York becomes more and more intolerable -every day, and I feel that I must get out of -it for awhile. I will still do some work on the -magazine, of course. Wait; give me a light.” -Andrews took the paper that Briarley had twisted -and touched it to the gas jet above his head.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> -It went out before it reached the cigar. With a -gesture of impatience he looked around and -found the matches.</p> - -<p>They smoked on, talking together for some -time, Glenn toying with the paper in his hand, -carelessly rolling and unrolling it. He got a -glimpse of it, and said, quickly: “Look here,” -passing it over. “Is this of much importance? -Maybe you have burned the wrong thing.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! That’s nothing,” Briarley answered, -with an indifferent gesture. “Albert Winston, -the poor devil, is dead, and he died beaten. One -man has no business to take a mortgage on another’s -home, anyhow. I may be an unresponsive -brute, but I couldn’t turn a woman and -children into the street.” His throat was dry as -he turned his back and laid the scorched paper -over the flames. “We might as well finish it—let -the ashes settle it.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say that Winston died in -poverty?” Andrews asked, as he got up to leave.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p> - -<p>“He hadn’t a dollar.”</p> - -<p>“Let me see; whom did he marry?”</p> - -<p>“Mildred Hughes,” Briarley hazarded, repeating -her name calmly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s so; I do remember her. Half the -fellows at college were daft about her. Winston’s -money won her, they thought.”</p> - -<p>“Where are you off to, now?” asked Briarley.</p> - -<p>Andrews turned. “I’ve got the ends of a million -threads to wind up before I start.”</p> - -<p>“And some to break, no doubt.”</p> - -<p>“Let me hear from you occasionally,” Glenn -said, as he grasped the other’s hand, and felt like -adding, “I have guessed your secret, Briarley, -my friend. Some men are heroes simply because -they didn’t marry.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll try to come down to see you off. But if I -shouldn’t make it, remember to get all you can -out of life, my boy, and I wish you the best of -good luck.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></p> - -<p>Andrews looked worn, overworked. Richmond -Briarley had hoped that the returns from -the opera would take some of the strain off of the -ambitious fellow—but the unfortunate affair with -Stephen Kent had ended that hope.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">For</span> two weeks Esther had been at the seaside. -She had grown pale and tired from the -ceaseless round of work and social play. This -life had glamour, had charm, but no contentment. -Her pleasure in it was not real. She -entered it with the belief that it was sweet to -love, natural to trust. There was nothing in life -but faith and love. She was now in the midst of -people who talked with a sceptical contempt of -all that she had held sacred. They laughed at -her simple faith in the old-fashioned morality -taught her by cherished lips.</p> - -<p>Glenn Andrews could not leave without seeing -her again. He had sent her a message. In -the afternoon of the last day he went down to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> -seaside where she was stopping. The expression -on his face was one of unrelenting yet melancholy -determination. She was not in, so he -struck across the sand and strolled along the -beach until he found her. In spite of the pain in -her heart, her sensitive, proud face denied it. -There was a smile on her pale lips.</p> - -<p>“You’re about as hard to reach as the bag of -gold at the rainbow’s end,” Glenn said, “but I am -glad to find that the other hunters have not -reached here. From stories that came back to -town, you don’t often escape all of your admirers -at once. I am fortunate to find you alone.”</p> - -<p>“They are fairy stories that every girl has a -right to be a heroine of during the season.”</p> - -<p>“I ventured to ask you to be so good as to -give me an hour, only because I am going away -so soon, and I may not see you again.”</p> - -<p>“Your ‘so’ is femininely unsatisfactory. That -is the speech of a woman. How soon is that?”</p> - -<p>He pointed across the water. “You see that -ship? Just about this time to-morrow, when the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> -Majestic sails that way, you may know I am -aboard of her. I will wave you a farewell.”</p> - -<p>Esther felt a tremor run over her. She looked -past him at the baffled surf, as, white with rage, -it sprang against the pier, retreating with a roar, -leaving a glimpse of the green sea stones beneath.</p> - -<p>“So soon as that?” she said, her eyes opening -and closing convulsively. “I must have been -asleep; I didn’t realize that the time was so near.”</p> - -<p>“Time is a mule; it always takes the opposite -gait from that which you want it to take. This -month has taken wings.” He gave a swift glance -at her. “And I expect the next one to crawl—that -is, after the voyage. I love the water.”</p> - -<p>“As the doctor thinks the sea air so good for -you, why don’t you cruise along the shores of -France?”</p> - -<p>“I may,” hesitatingly he answered; a sense of -guilt came over him at the thought of his deception.</p> - -<p>“How long do you expect to be gone?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said, absently; he knew this -was not curiosity, but personal concern; “it may -be three months, or three years.”</p> - -<p>“Which do you expect it to be?”</p> - -<p>“I do not expect, because to do that is to rob -one’s self of the emotion of surprise, without -which there is little pleasure in living.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe I could be surprised any more. -I know how little there is ahead. I have been arranging -it all in my mind.”</p> - -<p>He looked seaward. “How’s that?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Mrs. Low goes home with her daughter.” -Here she touched her hands together impulsively.</p> - -<p>“You both are going; that leaves me alone.”</p> - -<p>“If thoughts count for anything, you will never -be alone.”</p> - -<p>“How am I to know that?”</p> - -<p>“You have the word of Glenn Andrews,” he -said quickly; “besides you have a glorious future -to look forward to. You have attained! -What happiness is there like unto it? Among the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> -many desires of my heart, the first is of your -happiness, which I believe lies through your art. -I am proud for you. Let me have one comfort -before we part. Promise me that you will not -disappoint me in my hopes for you. Your success -has come high.”</p> - -<p>“Well, your future, tell me of that and what -your art has cost you.”</p> - -<p>“What I have suffered is too late to discuss. -One can rate truly only as far as one has gone. -I cannot see as far ahead for myself as for my -friends.”</p> - -<p>“I can see for you.” She spoke slowly, and -with difficulty. “Not only perfect health, but -laurels. I hope my little spot in your heart may -not be entirely shadowed by the lustre of that -hour.” Her composure was returning. “I shall -miss you; I want you to know that I appreciate -the value of your friendship, of which I stood in -need. You have helped me by your fond belief -in me.”</p> - -<p>He didn’t raise his head, but his hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, I have done so little; don’t shame me. -You have been taking care of me instead. You -have made my life richer—deeper—brought back -some of the old faith in my own ideals that was -gradually being crushed out. I can understand -how men can be forced to such a height that falling -would seem too far and hard. I wish I could -feel that I had brought half the sunlight into your -life as you have into mine.”</p> - -<p>“You have brought the most that will ever be -there.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t say that just as I am going; that -kind of sun shines not only through the senses, -but through the soul. It will always shine if you -will only think so.”</p> - -<p>She bowed her head, the wide fringe of brown -seaweed trembled under the waves that ran up -on the warm-hued sand.</p> - -<p>“And I am glad that we have had this year. -With all its pain—it is ours. Think of me sometimes -when I am gone, Esther. Be good—by -that I mean, brave.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span></p> - -<p>His voice broke.</p> - -<p>The tense strain of the moment was ended, as -he bent forward. His heart was in the kiss he -left on her hair. He turned and walked quickly -away without looking back.</p> - -<p>In the darkness of her room, a young figure -lay stricken with grief across her bed, mourning -the vision of her ideals that seemed gone without -fulfillment. In the morning when she heard -the happy sound of laughing voices the hopelessness -of her bereavement came over her afresh. -She was alone in her sorrow and memories. She -was so weak that her body felt bruised, and her -arms lay like a dead weight at her side. Was her -courage broken? She prayed a passionate prayer -for the poor, heartless women who had kept faith -with virtue, and had not been rewarded—who had -scattered their broken ideals along the road that -they went, that all who followed must bleed and -suffer. She reached out for her violin; for a -while she lay still with it in her arms. It was not -sufficient. She needed some human thing for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> -companionship. Her soul hated its bodily enthrallment—she -would fly out of it—she must. -With a supreme effort she raised herself, and -faced the mirror. Her wide, dim eyes looked out -at her in pity. Then from her window she saw -a steamer going out. It was time for the Majestic -that was to take Glenn Andrews out of New -York—out of her life. The two loves of her life—they -must die together. Suddenly grasping -the neck of her violin, she struck it against the -side of the bed and shattered the exquisite thing. -She fell back prostrate, and there for weeks she -lay between this life and the eternal.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Glenn Andrews</span> went to France, to Moret-sur-Loing, -an old cathedral town, thinly peopled, -on the skirts of the forest of Fontainbleu. It was -secluded and out of the way. Here he would lead -a quiet life of study and work. This was his delight. -A poet-soul living in the pursuit, not possession -of the ideal. He had taken up his abode -in a little, old inn. Away from the world and yet -so near it. This was a beautiful country; the -sight of it did his spirit good. He loved the hills -and valleys and streams. On one side the ruins -of an old Keep belting him, and on the other, the -mills with long rows of deep windows, from -which the workers looked out upon the sunshine<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> -and their homes. The small mill-houses nestled -low in the leaves.</p> - -<p>One day, returning late from a long walk, -Glenn passed a peasant mother, poorly clothed, -seated in her doorway; her child was sitting by -with its hands about its knees. She kept pointing -to the path that led to the mill. She was evidently -looking for some one. Soon a man came -in sight. A glow lit in the sombre eyes of the -mother, and a smile leaped from her haggard face -to the weary man, who suddenly straightened his -drooping shoulders. There was something besides -pain and work in the world, and they had -found it. He took the child in his arms, tossing -it up and letting it fall back again—this human -miniature of their love and youth. Many a day, -Glenn strolled at evening to see their meeting -when the father came home from the mill. It -rested him. He became absorbed in his work, -reading the proof of the third book that was to -add something to, or take from, the name of the -lyrical poet.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span></p> - -<p>It was not long until he heard of Esther’s illness. -It gave him a stab of remorse and distressed -him sorely. Had he, who had nurtured -her soul so carefully, injured it more deeply than -the careless world? He who had enthralled her -childhood, steadfastly guided her girlhood—in -whose woman’s destiny he had played so fatal -a part. Here the pathos and the irony were -strangely interwoven. Would it have been better -had she never known the broader, fuller world? -Had she now been living away her life contentedly -in the dark? These questions came between -him and his work. As he gazed dreamily out, the -leaves were swaying carelessly. A vision of the -dependent, lovely girl overwhelmed him. In the -wind he seemed to hear Esther’s voice—all the -youth and laughter gone out of it. It was not -like that day when he held her face between his -hands and gave her the kiss of love. He sighed -for the virginal softness of her tremulous lips. -The wind went wandering along the wood’s green -edge, like a miserable thing, offering no consolation.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> -From his meditation came like an accusing -ghost the realization that there is but one true -aim in life—to seek and find the soul’s complement. -He had sought. He had found, but he -had sacrificed. The spiritual need of his soul -had been set aside. For what? An agony of -yearning welled up in his heart—a yearning for -the sense of her sweet presence which thrilled -him with a joy of pain. The best of love they had -missed—the supreme surrender.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI.</h3> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Esther’s</span> health was returning, and with it her -strength. Her pride and her spirit, both, were fired. -There was one thing left to her in her grief—concealment. -She bound this thought to her heart, -and held it close—so close. She was a soldier’s -daughter, and came of a stock whose fortitude in -defeat had been even more splendid than their -valor in war. To her the secret of love had been -harshly told, but she would hear it with courage. -In the swiftest current of destiny, she would show -her womanly strength.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII.</h3> -</div> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">You</span> will wonder at seeing this letter from -me,” Glenn wrote to Esther, “for it will not be -a usual one—not at all the sort of letter you have -been accustomed to receiving from me. Perhaps -it is that I have changed—greatly changed -from that old self you knew—most of all changed -from what I used to be to you. I can see you -now as you looked to me that afternoon at Indian -Well, when I first spoke to you. You -touched me so closely then—so nearly—and you -were such a child.</p> - -<p>“All through that first year I think you could -never have guessed how much the blossoming of -that little wild heart of yours meant to me. I -watched it from day to day, from month to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> -month, so closely. Maybe I watered it some, -and pulled some of the weeds that might have -crowded its roots. I hope so. You were a child -then and I a man, yet I had been a man without -a passion. I thought much in those days, and -dreamed that I knew myself. Achievement was -my god. I told myself that my interest in you -was the interest of the philosopher—the master—and -I watched your mind unfold with a curious -delight. I know now, dear, that it was a far -different feeling from that—one that went far -deeper and meant much more to me, even when -I would not admit it to myself. It is to his own -heart last of all that a man admits his own error. -And yet, as I look back at it now, I think that -I meant to be honest with myself. When you -came to the city and I saw the wondrous woman -that had grown—when I saw your flower heart—still -the heart of the child in all that was sweet -and innocent—turning more and more towards -me for its sun—it waked something new within -me. I saw the problem. I felt your dependence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> -grow each day stronger. You leaned upon me -so that I thought sometimes I could feel every -throb of your heart. You were achieving. Your -art was growing. Your genius was lifting. You -were coming nearer and nearer to the ideal that -I had imagined for you. When such a development -has become the great and absorbing passion -of a man’s life, I cannot express to you how -haunting becomes the fear of disappointment, -how terrible the jealousy of circumstance that -may step between him and its fulfillment. You -had beautiful ideals—such as I have had—and -they had grown a part of you. To lose them -would have ashed the ember; it would have deadened -the quick sensibilities and wounded that -soul-instinct of yours in which your music lived. -And when I saw these ideals dependent upon me—upon -my presence—upon the sympathy of -mine, which I could not have denied if I had -tried—I stood by them and you. Dear, the soul -of a woman is a wonderful thing. It will not -bear experiment. Yours was like a sensitive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> -plant that cannot bear the light, and sheds its -loveliest perfume in the dark. So I tried to give -it the darkness—to cloud the glare of hollowness -that was in our world—to let the light in slowly -and only when the leaves were strong enough -to bear it. All this time I could not help but -see that when I went from you the shock would -be great. My philosophy taught me the penalty -of emotion, and I thought I had much to do in -the world. I dreamed of work that would absorb -me utterly—that would take the best that was in -me, of feeling and of effort. All my life I had -denied myself the passion that my eyes told me -was growing in you. I had grown to consider -myself apart from others—a mental solitary who -had locked the door of his heart because he had -work to do. It had not occurred to me that the -Juggernaut whose rumbling wheels I would not -hear might crush you. It was the concert at the -Metropolitan that opened my eyes. I knew then -that your art and your heart had twined together -so intimately that if one were cut, the other would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> -bleed. I knew then that I must either go or -stay, that if I became a stronger part of you my -going would be fatal to your own achievement -and to mine. Dear, it was not all selfishness—this -resolve of mine. You will never know what -it meant to me to tear up the roots that had -grown in spite of me: it was like tearing the -flesh and leaving it quivering. But that I could -have borne if it left you better able to go on. I -did not know then what I know now. I blame -myself that I did not read truer. The news of -your breakdown and the giving up of your music -came to me like a blow in the dark. In showing -me yours, it has shown me my own heart. -The depths of my self-condemnation have -taught me myself. It has taught me that achievement -is a pitiful thing compared with a woman’s -love—that your happiness means more to me—a -thousand times more—than success: that I love -you—I love you—utterly and wholly—and that -I want you to be my wife. The future is impossible -to me without you. Each day since I saw<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> -you, your step has been in every sound. Each -night your face has been my vision. Here from -my window I can see a little knoll on which is -a cross, where the peasants go to pray to the -patron saint of the village. It is ugly, and battered, -and old, but it has come to be beautiful to -me, for I know now what they are praying for. -The hills are gold with the grain, and a little -winding path runs down toward my eyrie. I can -almost imagine you coming down it now to meet -me, with your dear face raised to my window—”</p> - -<p>As Glenn finished the page, the boy tapped at -the little door with the daily mail, and he reached -out an indifferent hand to take it. A familiar -flourish caught his eye, and, recognizing Richmond -Briarley’s penmanship, he opened a bulky -envelope. A card, closely written, and a small -book met his gaze.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII.</h3> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My</span> young Idealist, I send you a clever story, -one which shows remarkable talent, and which -you really must read. There is, or was, once -upon a time in this town, another consummate -young Idealist like yourself, but of the female -persuasion; a protegé of yours who fiddled. She, -I remember, believed in a few things; among -others, that there was a little to be considered -besides art, and that she had a lump somewhere -which she called a heart. You have always been -troubled with the same feature, I believe.</p> - -<p>“The lady has just issued a story, which I -send you to-day. Just take a look at it and find -me that lump, will you? Cold as an icicle! By -the way, I understand that the lady in question<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> -was quite a social success here in our city, and -very much sought after in drawing rooms, in -which she earned about her own price. She has -come to the philosophical conclusion that you -used to uphold: which is, that as long as a person -<i>does</i>, it don’t much matter what a person <i>feels</i>. -Anyway, she is doing it; and I take it from this -novel that she is not feeling much either.</p> - -<p class="right">“Yours, Briarley.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Glenn read the letter with a curious shock, and -opened the novelette. As he finished the last -page and laid it down on the table beside him—this -story with the heart of a stone—he sat looking -out the window with a daze of anguish in his -eyes. His hands were supporting his bearded -chin. Without, the splendid sunset, the gilding -flame of which caused his features to shine resplendently. -His sad, wistful face, convulsed -with emotion. What a tumult of silent, unspeakable -memories; what feelings of regret and longing! -Instinct does not always point the truth.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> -No suspicion of the brave ruse of Esther came to -him now—no apprehension of the hurt pride -whose strain of revolt forced from her this literary -lie. He had been driven blindly on by his -yearning for the more perfect art. He didn’t care -for laurels now, nor for that art for whose sake -he had destroyed the best thing in his life. Was -ever heart-break more cruel? He sat for an hour -in silence. The sunset had lost its beauty. The -grain on the hills had lost its gold. He took the -letter he had been writing to Esther, tore it up, -and flung the fragments of what, if he had known, -was the best of his life, out the window. A lazy -breeze caught them up and scattered them. A -single one with the word “love” on it was blown -back and settled slowly in his hat. A bell was -ringing for compline. He saw the peasants in -their simple devotion going slowly to worship. -He took his hat and walked across the street to -the little café. There two comrades called him -over to have a bottle of wine with them.</p> - -<p>“Ah, poet!” one said, laughing as he reached<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> -over and took the stray bit of paper that lay on -his hair. “Still the philosopher! Making love -with your head?”</p> - -<p>“You’re wrong, this time, it was from the -heart,” and Glenn Andrews forced the shadow of -a smile into his lips.</p> - -<p class="center no-indent">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"><div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph3 nobreak center no-indent" id="Transcribers_Notes"><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Notes:</span></p> - -<p>Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetters’ -errors in spelling and punctuation.</p> - -<p>No changes have been made to dialect.</p> - -<p>Some variant spellings have been retained.</p></div> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AS THE HART PANTETH ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/68207-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/68207-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 09016ea..0000000 --- a/old/68207-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68207-h/images/i_logo.jpg b/old/68207-h/images/i_logo.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e9cfaca..0000000 --- a/old/68207-h/images/i_logo.jpg +++ /dev/null |
