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diff --git a/old/htide10h.htm b/old/htide10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4d16a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/htide10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8817 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=us-ascii"> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Life at High Tide, Edited by + William Howells and Henry Alden. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + font-size: 14pt; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + // --> + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Life at High Tide, by Various + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Life at High Tide + Harper's Novelettes + +Author: Various + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7362] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 21, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE AT HIGH TIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, Sandra Bannatyne, +David Garcia and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. +</pre> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + LIFE AT HIGH TIDE + </h1> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + <b>Harper's Novelettes<br> + <br> + <br> + Edited By<br> + William Dean Howells and Henry Mills Alden<br></b> + </center> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<br> +<center> +<table summary="CONTENTS"> +<tr><td> +<p><a href="#THE IMMEDIATE JEWEL">THE IMMEDIATE JEWEL</a></p> + +<p>"<a href="#AND ANGELS CAME">AND ANGELS CAME</a>"</p> + +<p><a href="#KEEPERS OF A CHARGE">KEEPERS OF A CHARGE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#A WORKING BASIS">A WORKING BASIS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#THE GLASS DOOR">THE GLASS DOOR</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ELIZABETH AND DAVIE">ELIZABETH AND DAVIE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#BARNEY DOON, BRAGGART">BARNEY DOON, BRAGGART</a> </p> + +<p><a href="#THE REPARATION">THE REPARATION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#THE YEARLY TRIBUTE">THE YEARLY TRIBUTE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#A MATTER OF RIVALRY">A MATTER OF RIVALRY</a></p> +</td> +<td> + +<p>MARGARET DELAND</p> + +<p>ANNE O'HAGAN</p> + +<p>GRACE ELLERY CHANNING</p> + +<p>ABBY MEGUIRE ROACH</p> + +<p>MARY TRACY EARLE</p> + +<p>MURIEL CAMPBELL DYAR</p> + +<p>PHILIP VERRILL MIGHELS</p> + +<p>EMERY POTTLE</p> + +<p>ROSINA HUBLEY EMMET</p> + +<p>OCTAVE THANET</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +</center> + + + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p><br> + There is a tide in the affairs of men<br> + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. + </p> + <p> + Thus the poet—and poetry, of the old order at least, + always waiting upon great events, has found in the high-tide + flotations of masterful heroes to fortune themes most + flatteringly responsive to its own high tension. + </p> + <p> + The writer of fiction has no such afflatus, no such high + pitch of life, as to outward circumstance, in his + representation of it, as the poet has; and therefore his may + seem to the academic critic the lesser art—but it is + nearer to the realities of common human existence. He deals + with plain men and women, and the un-majestic moments of + their lives. + </p> + <p> + "Life at High Tide"—the title selected for this little + volume of short stories, and having a real significance for + each of them, which the reader may find out for + himself—does not reflect the poet's meaning, and, least + of all, its easy optimism. In every one of these stories is + presented a critical moment in one individual life— + sometimes, as in "The Glass Door" and in "Elizabeth and + Davie," in two lives; but it leads not to or away from + fortune—it simply discloses character; also, in + situations like those so vividly depicted in "Keepers of a + Charge" and "A Yearly Tribute," the tense strain of modern + circumstance. In all these real instances there are luminous + points of idealism—of an idealism implicit but + translucent. + </p> + <p> + The authors here represented have won exceptional distinction + as short-story writers, and the examples given of their work + not only are typical of the best periodical fiction of a very + recent period—all of them having been published within + five years—but illustrate the distinctive features, as + unprecedented in quality as they are diversified in + character, which mark the extreme advance in this field of + literature. + </p> + <p> + H. M. A. + </p> + <hr> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="THE IMMEDIATE JEWEL"></a> + <h2> + THE IMMEDIATE JEWEL + </h2> + <h3> + BY MARGARET DELAND + </h3> + <p><br> + "<i>Good name, in man and woman, dear my + lord,<br> + Is</i> the immediate jewel of their + souls."<br> + + —<i>Othello</i>. + </p> + <h4> + I + </h4> + <p> + When James Graham, carpenter, enlisted, it was with the + assurance that if he lost his life his grateful country would + provide for his widow. He did lose it, and Mrs. Graham + received, in exchange for a husband and his small earnings, + the sum of $12 a month. But when you own your own very little + house, with a dooryard for chickens (and such stray dogs and + cats as quarter themselves upon you), and enough grass for a + cow, and a friendly neighbor to remember your potato-barrel, + why, you can get along—somehow. In Lizzie Graham's case + nobody knew just how, because she was not one of the + confidential kind. But certainly there were days in winter + when the house was chilly, and months when fresh meat was + unknown, and years when a new dress was not thought of. This + state of things is not remarkable, taken in connection with + an income of $144 a year, and a New England village where + people all do their own work, so that a woman has no chance + to hire out. + </p> + <p> + All the same, Mrs. Graham was not an object of charity. Had + she been that, she would have been promptly sent to the Poor + Farm. No sentimental consideration of a grateful country + would have moved Jonesville to philanthropy; it sent its + paupers to the Poor Farm with prompt common sense. + </p> + <p> + When Jonesville's old school-teacher, Mr. Nathaniel May, came + wandering back from the great world, quite penniless, almost + blind, and with a faint mist across his pleasant mind, + Jonesville saw nothing for him but the Poor Farm.... + Nathaniel had been away from home for many years; rumors came + back, occasionally, that he was going to make his fortune by + some patent, and Jonesville said that if he did it would be a + good thing for the town, for Nathaniel wasn't one to forget + his friends. "He'll give us a library," said Jonesville, + grinning; "Nat was a great un for books." However, Jonesville + was still without its library, when, one August day, the + stage dropped a gentle, forlorn figure at the door of Dyer's + Hotel. + </p> + <p> + "I'm Nat May," he said; "well, it's good to get home!" + </p> + <p> + He brought with him, as the sum of his possessions, a + dilapidated leather hand-bag full of strange wheels and + little reflectors, and small, scratched lenses; the poor + clothes upon his back; and twenty-four cents in his pocket. + He walked hesitatingly, with one hand outstretched to feel + his way, for he was nearly blind; but he recognized old + friends by their voices, and was full of simple joy at + meeting them. + </p> + <p> + "I have a very wonderful invention," he said, in his eager + voice, his blind eyes wide and luminous; "and very valuable. + But I have not been financially successful, so far. I shall + be, of course. But in the city no one seemed willing to wait + for payment for my board, so the authorities advised me to + come home; and, in fact, assisted me to do so. But when I + finish my invention, I shall have ample means." + </p> + <p> + Jonesville, lounging on the porch of Dyer's Hotel, grinned, + and said, "That's all right, Nat; you'll be a rich man one of + these days!" And then it tapped its forehead significantly, + and whispered, "Too bad!" and added (with ill-concealed + pleasure at finding new misfortune to talk about) that the + Selectmen had told Mr. Dean, the superintendent, that he + could call at Dyer's Hotel—to which Nathaniel, + peacefully and pennilessly, had drifted—and take him + out to the Farm. + </p> + <p> + "Sam Dyer says he'll keep him till next week," Mrs. + Butterfield told Lizzie Graham; "but, course, he can't just + let him set down at the hotel for the rest of his natural + life. And Nat May would do it, you know." + </p> + <p> + "I believe he would," Lizzie Graham admitted; "he was always + kind of simple that way, willin' to take and willin' to give. + Don't you mind how he used to be always sharin' anything he + had? James used to say Nat never knowed his own things + belonged to him." + </p> + <p> + "Folks like that don't never get rich," Mrs. Butterfield + said; "but there! you like 'em." + </p> + <p> + The two women were walking down a stony hillside, each with a + lard-pail full of blueberries. It was a hot August afternoon; + a northwest wind, harsh and dry, tore fiercely across the + scrub-pines and twinkling birches of the sun-baked pastures. + Lizzie Graham held on to her sun-bonnet, and stopped in a + scrap of shade under a meagre oak to get breath. + </p> + <p> + "My! I don't like wind," she said, laughing. + </p> + <p> + "Let's set down a while," Mrs. Butterfield suggested. + </p> + <p> + "I'd just as leaves," Lizzie said, and took off her blue + sunbonnet and fanned herself. She was a pretty woman still, + though she was nearly fifty; her hair was russet red, and + blew about her forehead in little curls; her eyes, brown like + a brook in shady places, and kind. It was a mild face, but + not weak. Below them the valley shimmered in the heat; the + grass was hot and brittle underfoot; popples bent and twisted + in a scorching wind, and a soft, dark glitter of movement ran + through the pines on the opposite hillside. + </p> + <p> + "The Farm ain't got a mite of shade round it," Lizzie said; + "just sets there at the crossroads and bakes." + </p> + <p> + "You was always great for trees," Mrs. Butterfield said; + "your house is too dark for my taste. If I was you, I'd cut + down that biggest ellum." + </p> + <p> + "Cut it down! Well, I suppose you'll laugh, but them trees + are real kind o' friends. There! I knowed you'd laugh; but I + wouldn't cut down a tree any more 'an I'd—I don't know + what!" + </p> + <p> + "They do darken." + </p> + <p> + "Some. But only in summer; and then you want 'em to. And the + Poor Farm ain't got a scrap of shade!—I wonder if he + feels it, bein' sent there?" + </p> + <p> + "I ain't seen, him, but Josh, told me he was terrible broke + up over it. Told me he just set and wrung his hands when + Hiram Wells told him he'd got to go. Josh said it was real + pitiful. But what can you do? He's 'bout blind; and he ain't + just right, either." + </p> + <p> + "How ain't he just right?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, you know, Nathaniel was always one of the dreamin' + kind; a real good man, but he wa'n't like folks." + </p> + <p> + Lizzie nodded. + </p> + <p> + "And if you remember, he was all the time inventin' things. + Well, now he's got set that he can invent a machine so as you + can see the dead. I mean spirits. Well, of course he's crazy. + Josh says he's crazy as a bluefish. But what's troublin' him + now is that he can't finish his machine. He says that if he + goes to the Farm, what with him bein' blindish and not able + to do for himself, that his glasses and wheels—and dear + knows what all that he's got for ghost-seein'—will get + all smashed up. An' I guess he's 'bout right. They're + terrible crowded, Mis' Dean says. Nat allows that if he could + stay at Dyer's, or some place, a couple of months, where he + could work, quiet, he'd make so much money that he'd pay his + board ten times over. Crazy. But then, I can't help bein' + sorry for him. Some folks don't mind the troubles of crazy + folks, but I don't know why they ain't as hard to bear as + sensible folks' troubles." + </p> + <p> + "Harder maybe," Lizzie said. + </p> + <p> + "Josh said he just set and wrung his hands together, and he + says to Hiram Wells, he says, 'Gimme a month—and I'll + finish it. For the sake,' he says, 'of the blessed dead.' + Gave you goose-flesh, Josh said." + </p> + <p> + "You can see that he believes in his machine." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, he's just as sure as he's alive!" + </p> + <p> + "But why can't he finish it at the Farm? I guess Mis' Dean + would give him a closet to keep it in." + </p> + <p> + "Closet? Mercy! He's got it all spread out on a table in his + room at the hotel. Them loafers go up and look at it, and + bust right out laughin'. Josh says it's all little wheels and + lookin'-glasses, and they got to be balanced just so. Mis' + Dean ain't got a spot he could have for ten minutes at a + time." + </p> + <p> + They were silent for a few minutes, and then Lizzie Graham + said: "Does he feel bad at bein' a pauper? The Mays was + always respectable. Old Mis' May was real proud." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Butterfield ruminated: "Well, he don't like it, course. + But he said (you know he's crazy)—'I am nothin',' he + says, 'and my pride is less than nothin'. But for the sake of + the poor Dead, grant me time,' he says. Ain't it pitiful? + Almost makes you feel like lettin' him wait. But what's the + use?" + </p> + <p> + Lizzie Graham nodded. "But there's people would pay money for + one of them machines—if it worked." + </p> + <p> + "That's what he said; he said he'd make a pile of money. But + he didn't care about that, except then he could pay board to + Dyer, if Dyer'd let him stay." + </p> + <p> + "An' won't he?" + </p> + <p> + "No; and I don't see as he has any call to, any more 'an you + or me." + </p> + <p> + Lizzie Graham plucked at the dry grass at her side. "That's + so. 'Tain't one person's chore more 'an another's. + But—there! If this wa'n't Jonesville, I believe I'd let + him stay with me till he finishes up his machine." + </p> + <p> + "Why, Lizzie Graham!" cried Mrs. Butterfield, "what you + talkin' about? You couldn't do it—you. You ain't got to + spare, in the first place. And anyway, him an unmarried man, + and you a widow woman! Besides, he'll never finish it." + </p> + <p> + Lizzie's face reddened angrily. "Guess I could have a visitor + as well as anybody." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I didn't mean you wouldn't be a good provider," Mrs. + Butterfield said, turning red herself. "I meant folks would + talk." + </p> + <p> + "Folks could find something better to talk about," Lizzie + said; "Jonesville is just nothin' but a nest o' real mean, + lyin' gossip!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, that's so," Mrs. Butterfield agreed, placidly. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie Graham put on her sunbonnet. "Better be gettin' + along," she said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Butterfield rose ponderously. "And they'd say you was a + spiritualist, too; they'd say you took him to get his + ghost-machine made." + </p> + <p> + "That's just what I would do," the other answered, sharply. + "I ain't a mite of a spiritualist, and I don't believe in + ghosts; but I believe in bein' kind." + </p> + <p> + "I believe in keepin' a good name," Mrs. Butterfield said, + dryly. + </p> + <p> + They went on down the windy pasture slope in silence; the + mullein candles blossomed shoulder-high, and from underfoot + came the warm, aromatic scent of sweet-fern. Once they + stopped for some more blueberries, with a desultory word + about the heat; then they picked their way around + juniper-bushes, and over great knees of granite, hot and + slippery, and through low, sweet thickets of bay. At the foot + of the hill the shadows were stretching across the road, and + the wind was flagging. + </p> + <p> + "My, ain't the shade good?" Lizzie said, when they stopped + under her great elm; "I couldn't bear to live where there + wa'n't trees." + </p> + <p> + "There's always shade on one side or another of the Poor + Farm, anyway," Mrs. Butterfield said, "'cept at noon. And + then he could set indoors. It won't be anything so bad, + Lizzie. Now don't you get to worryin' 'bout him;—I know + you, Lizzie Graham!" she ended, her eyes twinkling. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie took off her sunbonnet again and fanned herself; she + looked at her old neighbor anxiously. + </p> + <p> + "Say, now, Mis' Butterfield, honest: do you think folks would + talk?" + </p> + <p> + "If you took Nat in and kep' him? Course they would! You know + they would; you know this here town. And no wonder they'd + talk. You're a nice-appearin' woman, Lizzie, yet. No; I ain't + one to flatter; you <i>be</i>. And ain't he a man? and a + likely man, too, for all he's crazy. Course they'd talk! Now, + Lizzie, don't you get to figgerin' on this. It's just like + you! How many cats have you got on your hands now? I bet + you're feedin' that lame dog yet." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Graham laughed, but would not say. + </p> + <p> + "Nat will get along at the Farm real good, after he gets used + to it," Mrs. Butterfield went on, coaxingly; "Dean ain't + hard. And Mis' Dean's many a time told me what a good table + they set." + </p> + <p> + "'Tain't the victuals that would trouble Nat May." + </p> + <p> + "Well, Lizzie, now you promise me you won't think anything + more about him visitin' you?" Mrs. Butterfield looked at her + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + "I guess Jonesville knows me, after I've lived here all my + life!" Lizzie said, evasively. + </p> + <p> + "Knows you?" Mrs. Butterfield said; "what's that got to do + with it? You know Jonesville; that's more to the point." + </p> + <p> + "It's a mean place!" Lizzie said, angrily. + </p> + <p> + "I'm not sayin' it ain't," Mrs. Butterfield agreed. "Well, + Lizzie, you're good, but you ain't real sensible," she ended, + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie laughed, and swung her gate shut. She stood leaning on + it a minute, looking after Mrs. Butterfield laboriously + climbing the hill, until the road between its walls of rusty + hazel-bushes and its fringe of joepye-weed and goldenrod + turned to the left and the stout, kindly figure disappeared. + The great elm moved softly overhead, and Lizzie glanced up + through its branches, all hung with feathery twigs, at the + deep August sky. + </p> + <p> + "Jonesville's never talked about <i>me</i>!" she said to + herself, proudly. "I mayn't be wealthy, but I got a good + name. Course it wouldn't do to take Nat; but my! ain't it a + poor planet where you can't do a kind act?" + </p> + <h4> + II + </h4> + <p> + Nathaniel May sat in his darkness, brooding over his machine. + Since it had been definitely arranged that he was to go to + the Poor Farm, he did not care how soon he went; there was no + need, he told Dyer, to keep him for the few days which had + been promised. + </p> + <p> + "I had thought," he said, patiently, "that some one would + take me in and help me finish my machine—for the + certain profit that I could promise them. But nobody seems to + believe in me," he ended. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, folks believe in you, all right, Mr. May," Dyer told + him; "but they don't believe in your machine. See?" + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel's face darkened. "Blind—blind!" he said. + </p> + <p> + "How did it come on you?" Dyer asked, sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + "I was not speaking of myself," Nathaniel told him, + hopelessly. + </p> + <p> + There was really no doubt that the poor, gentle mind had + staggered under the weight of hope; but it was hardly more + than a deepening of old vagueness, an intensity of absorbed + thought upon unpractical things. The line between sanity and + insanity is sometimes a very faint one; no one can quite dare + to say just when it has been crossed. But this mild creature + had crossed it somewhere in the beginning of his certainty + that he was going to give the world the means of seeing the + unseen. That this great gift should be flung into oblivion, + all for the want, as he believed, of a little time, broke his + poor heart. When Lizzie Graham came to see him, she found him + sitting in his twilight, his elbows on his knees, his head in + his long, thin hands. On one hollow cheek there was a + glistening wet streak. He put up a forlornly trembling hand + and wiped it away when he heard her voice. + </p> + <p> + "Yes; yes, I do recognize it, ma'am," he said; "I can tell + voices better than I used to be able to tell faces. You are + Jim Graham's wife? Yes; yes, Lizzie Graham. Have you heard + about me, Lizzie? I am not going to finish my machine. I am + to be sent to the Farm." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I heard," she said. + </p> + <p> + They were in the big, bare office of the hotel. The August + sunshine lay dim upon the dingy window-panes; the walls, + stained by years of smoke and grime, were hidden by yellowing + advertisements of reapers and horse liniments; in the centre + was a dirty iron stove. A poor, gaunt room, but a haven to + Nathaniel May, awaiting the end of hope. + </p> + <p> + "I heard," Lizzie Graham said; she leaned forward and stroked + his hand. "But maybe you can finish it at the Farm, + Nathaniel?" + </p> + <p> + "No," he said, sadly; "no; I know what it's like at the Farm. + There is no room there for anything but bodies. No time for + anything but Death." + </p> + <p> + "How long would it take you to put it together?" she asked; + and Dyer, who was lounging across his counter, shook his head + at her, warningly. + </p> + <p> + "There ain't nothin' to it, Mrs. Graham," he said, under his + breath; "he's—" He tapped his forehead significantly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, man!" Nathaniel cried out, passionately, "you don't know + what you say! Are the souls of the departed 'nothing'? I have + it in my hand—right here in my hand, Lizzie + Graham—to give the world the gift of sight. And they + won't give me a crust of bread and a roof over my head till I + can offer it to them!" + </p> + <p> + "Couldn't somebody put it together for you?" she asked, the + tears in her eyes. "I would try, Nathaniel;—you could + explain it to me; I could come and see you every day, and you + could tell me." + </p> + <p> + His face brightened into a smile. "No, kind woman. Only I can + do it. I can't see very clearly, but there is a glimmer of + light, enough to get it together. But it would take at least + two months; at least two months. The doctor said the light + would last, perhaps, three months. Then I shall be blind. But + if I could give eyes to the blind world before I go into the + dark, what matter? What matter, I say?" he cried, brokenly. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie was silent. Dyer shook his head, and tapped his + forehead again; then he lounged out from behind his counter, + and settled himself in one of the armchairs outside the + office door. + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel dropped his head upon his breast, and sunk back + into his dreams. The office was very still, except for two + bluebottle flies butting against the ceiling and buzzing up + and down the window-panes. A hot wind wandered in and flapped + a mowing-machine poster on the wall; then dropped, and the + room was still again, except that leaf shadows moved across + the square of sunshine on the bare boards by the open door. + When Lizzie got up to go, he did not hear her kind good-by + until she repeated it, touching his shoulder with her + friendly hand. Then he said, hastily, with a faint frown: + "Good-by. Good-by." And sank again into his daze of + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie wiped her eyes furtively before she went out upon the + hotel porch; there Dyer, balancing comfortably on two legs of + his chair, detained her with drawling gossip until Hiram + Wells came up, and, lounging against a zinc-sheathed bar + between two hitching-posts, added his opinion upon Nathaniel + May's affairs. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Lizzie, seen any ghosts?" he began. + </p> + <p> + "I seen somebody that'll be a ghost pretty soon if you send + him off to the Farm," Lizzie said, sharply. + </p> + <p> + "Well," Hiram said, "I don't see what's to be + done—'less some nice, likely woman comes along and + marries him." + </p> + <p> + Dyer snickered. Lizzie turned very red, and started home down + the elm-shaded street. When she reached her little gray house + under its big tree, she went first into the cow-barn—a + crumbling lean-to with a sagging roof—to see if a sick + dog which had found shelter there was comfortable. It seemed + to Lizzie that his bleared eyes should be washed; and she did + this before she went through her kitchen into a shed-room + where she slept. There she sat down in hurried and frowning + preoccupation, resting her elbows on her knees and staring + blankly at the braided mat on the floor. As she sat there her + face reddened; and once she laughed, nervously. "An' me 'most + fifty!" she said to herself.... + </p> + <p> + The next morning she went to see Nathaniel again. + </p> + <p> + He was up-stairs in a little hot room under the sloping + eaves. He was bending over, straining his poor eyes close to + some small wheels and bands and reflectors arranged on a + shaky table. He welcomed her eagerly, and with all the + excitement of conviction plunged at once into an explanation + of his principle. Then suddenly conviction broke into + despair: "I am not to be allowed to finish it!" He gave a + quick sob, like a child. He had forgotten Lizzie's presence. + </p> + <p> + "Nathaniel," she said, and paused; then began again: + "Nathaniel—" + </p> + <p> + "Who is here? Oh yes: Lizzie Graham. Kind woman; kind woman." + </p> + <p> + "Nathaniel, you know I ain't got means; I'm real + poor,—" + </p> + <p> + "Are you?" he said, with instant concern. "I am sorry. If I + could help you—if I had anything of my own—or if + they will let me finish my machine; then I shall have all the + money I want, and I will help you; I will give you all you + need. I will give to all who ask!" he said, joyfully; then + again, abruptly: "But no; but no; I am not allowed to finish + it." + </p> + <p> + "Nathaniel, what I was going to say was—I am real poor. + I got James's pension, and our house out on the upper + road;—do you mind it—a mite of a house, with a + big elm right by the gate? And woods on the other side of the + road? Real shady and pleasant. And I got eight hens and a + cow;—well, she'll come in in September, and I'll have + real good milk all winter. Maybe this time I could raise the + calf, if it's a heifer. Generally I sell it; but if + you—well, it might pay to raise it, if—we—" + Lizzie stammered with embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel had forgotten her again; his head had fallen + forward on his breast, and he sighed heavily. + </p> + <p> + "You see, I <i>am</i> poor," Lizzie said; "you wouldn't have + comforts." + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel was silent. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie laughed, nervously. "Well? Seems queer; but—will + you?" + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel, waking from his troubled dream, said, patiently: + "What did you say? I ask your pardon; I was not listening." + </p> + <p> + "Why," Lizzie said, her face very red, "I was just + saying—if—if you didn't mind getting married, + Nathaniel, you could come and live with me?" + </p> + <p> + "Married?" he said, vacantly. "To whom?" + </p> + <p> + "Me," she said. + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel turned toward her in astonishment. "Married!" he + repeated. + </p> + <p> + "If you lived with me, you could finish the machine; there's + an attic over my house; I guess it's big enough. Only, we'd + <i>have</i> to be married, I'm afraid. Jonesville is a mean + place, Nathaniel. We'd have to be married. But you could + finish the machine." + </p> + <p> + He stood up, trembling, the tears suddenly running down his + face. <i>"Finish it?"</i> he said, in a whisper. "Oh, you are + not deceiving me? You would not deceive me?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't see why you couldn't finish it," she told him, + kindly. "But, Nathaniel, mind, I am poor. You wouldn't get as + good victuals even as you would at the Farm. And you'd have + to marry me, or folks would talk about me. But you could + finish your machine." + </p> + <p> + Nathaniel lifted his dim eyes to heaven. + </p> + <h4> + III + </h4> + <p> + "Well," said Mrs. Butterfield, "I suppose you know your own + business. But my goodness sakes alive!" + </p> + <p> + "I just thought I'd tell you," Lizzie said. + </p> + <p> + "But, Lizzie Graham! you ain't got the means." + </p> + <p> + "I can feed him." + </p> + <p> + "There's his clothes; why, my land—" + </p> + <p> + "I told Hiram Wells that if the town would see to his + clothes, I'd do the rest. They'd have to clothe him if he + went to the Farm." + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Mrs. Butterfield, "I never in all my born + days—Lizzie, now <i>don't</i>. My + goodness,—I—I ain't got no words! Why, his + victuals—" + </p> + <p> + "He ain't hearty. Sam Dyer told me he wa'n't hearty." + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, Sam Dyer had better feed him, 'stid o' puttin' + it onto you!" + </p> + <p> + Lizzie was silent. Then she said, with a short sigh, "Course + if I could 'a' just taken him in an' kep' him—but you + said folks would talk—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess so. Course they'd talk—you know this + place. You've always been well thought of in Jonesville, but + that would 'a' been the end of you, far as bein' respectable + goes." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you can't say this ain't respectable." + </p> + <p> + "No; I can't say it ain't respectable; but I can say it's the + foolishest thing I ever heard of. An' wrong too; 'cause + anything foolish is wrong." + </p> + <p> + "Anything cruel is wrong," Lizzie said, stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you was crazy to think of havin' him visit you. But it + don't follow, 'cause he can't be visitin' you, that you got + to go <i>marry</i> him." + </p> + <p> + "I got to do something," Lizzie said, desperately; "I'd never + have a minute's peace if he had to go to the Farm." + </p> + <p> + "He'd be more comfortable there." + </p> + <p> + "His stomach might be," Lizzie admitted. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then!" Mrs. Butterfield declared, triumphantly. "Now + you just let him go, Lizzie. You just be sensible." + </p> + <p> + "I'm goin' to marry him. I'm goin' to take him round to Rev. + Niles day after to-morrow; he said he'd marry us." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Butterfield gasped. "Well, if Rev. Niles does + that!—There! You know he was a 'Piscopal; they'll do + anything. What did he say when you told him?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, nothin' much; I asked him about him visitin' me, an' he + said it wa'n't just customary. Said it was better to get + married. Said we must avoid the appearance of evil." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I ain't sayin' he ain't right; but—" Then, in + despair, she turned to ridicule: "Folks'll say you're + marryin' him 'cause you expect he'll make money on his + ghost-machine!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, you tell 'em I don't believe in ghosts. That'll settle + <i>that</i>." + </p> + <p> + "If folks knew you didn't believe in any hereafter, they'd + say you was a wicked woman!" cried Mrs. Butterfield, + angrily;—"an' that fool machine—" + </p> + <p> + "I never said I didn't believe in a hereafter. Course his + machine ain't sense. That's what makes it so pitiful." + </p> + <p> + "He'll never finish it." + </p> + <p> + "Course he won't. That's why I'm takin' him." + </p> + <p> + "Well, my <i>sakes!</i>" said Mrs. Butterfield, helplessly. + And then, angrily again, "Course if you set out to go your + own way, I suppose you don't expect no help from them as + thinks you are all wrong?" + </p> + <p> + "I do not," Lizzie said, steadily; and then a spark glinted + in her leaf-brown eye: "Folks that have means, and yet would + let that poor unfortunate be taken to the Farm—I + wouldn't expect no help from 'em." + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mis' Graham, you can't say I ain't warned you." + </p> + <p> + "No, Mis' Butterfield, I can't," Lizzie responded; and the + two old friends parted stiffly. + </p> + <p> + The word that Lizzie Graham—"poor as Job's + turkey!"—was going to marry Nathaniel May spread like + grass fire through Jonesville. Mrs. Butterfield preserved a + cold silence, for her distress was great. To hear people + snicker and say that Lizzie Graham must be "dyin' anxious to + get married"; that she must be "lottin' considerable on a + good ghost-market"; that she "took a new way o' gettin' a + hired man without payin' no wages,"—these things stung + her sore heart into actual anger at the friend she loved. But + she did not show it. + </p> + <p> + "Mis' Graham probably knows her own business," she said, + stiffly, to any one who spoke to her of the matter. Even to + her own husband she was non-committal. Josh sat out by the + kitchen door, tilting back against the gray-shingled side of + the house, his hands in his pockets, his feet tucked under + him on the rung of his chair. He was in his shirt-sleeves, + and he had unbuttoned his baggy old waistcoat, for it was a + hot night. Mrs. Butterfield was on the kitchen door-step. + They could look across a patch of grass at the great barn, + connected with the little house by a shed. Its doors were + still open, and Josh could see the hay, put in that + afternoon. The rick in the yard stood like a skeleton against + the fading yellow of the sky; some fowls were roosting + comfortably on the tongue. It was very peaceful; but Mrs. + Butterfield's face was puckered with anxiety. "Yet I don't + know as I can do anything about it," she said, her foot + tapping the stone step nervously; "she ain't got no call to + be so foolish." + </p> + <p> + "Well," Josh said, removing his pipe from his lips and + spitting thoughtfully, "seems Mis' Graham's bound to get some + kind of a husband!" Then he chuckled, and thrust his pipe + back under his long, shaven upper lip. + </p> + <p> + "Now look a-here, Josh Butterfield; you don't want to be + talkin' that way," his wife said, bitterly. "Bad enough to + have folks that don't know no better pokin' fun at her; but I + ain't a-goin' to have you do it." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I was only just sayin'—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, don't you say it; that's all." + </p> + <p> + Josh poked a gnarled thumb down into the bowl of his pipe, + reflectively. "You ain't got a match about you, have you, + Emmy?" he said, coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Butterfield rose and went into the kitchen to get the + match; when she handed it to him, she said, sighing, "I'm + just 'most sick over it." + </p> + <p> + "You do seem consid'able shuck up," Josh said, kindly. + </p> + <p> + "Well,—I know Lizzie's just doin' it out of pure + goodness; but she'll 'most starve." + </p> + <p> + "I don't see myself how she's calculatin' to run things," + Josh ruminated; "course Jim's pension wa'n't much, but it was + somethin'. And without it—" + </p> + <p> + "Without it?—land! Is the government goin' to stop + pensions? There! I never did like the President!" + </p> + <p> + "No; the government ain't goin' to stop it. Lizzie Graham's + goin' to stop it." + </p> + <p> + "What on airth you talkin' about?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, Emmy woman, don't ye know the United States government + ain't no such fool as to go on payin' a woman for havin' a + dead husband when she catches holt of a livin' one? Don't you + know that?" + </p> + <p> + "Josh Butterfield!—you don't mean—" + </p> + <p> + "Why, that's true. Didn't you know that? Well, well! Why, a + smart widow woman could get consid'able of a income by + sendin' husbands to wars, if it wa'n't for that. Well, well; + to think you didn't know that! Wonder if Lizzie does?" + </p> + <p> + "She don't!" Mrs. Butterfield said, excitedly; "course she + don't. She's calculatin' on havin' that pension same as ever. + Why, she <i>can't</i> marry Nat. Goodness! I guess I'll just + step down and tell her. Lucky you told me to-night; to-morrow + it would 'a' been too late!" + </p> + <h4> + IV + </h4> + <p> + Lizzie Graham was sitting in the dark on her door-step; a cat + had curled up comfortably in her lap; her elm was faintly + murmurous with a constant soft rustling and whispering of the + lace of leaves around its great boughs. Now and then a + tree-toad spoke, or from the pasture pond behind the house + came the metallic twang of a bullfrog. But nothing else broke + the deep stillness of the summer night. Lizzie's elbow was on + her knee, her chin in her hand; she was listening to the + peace, and thinking—not anxiously, but seriously. After + all, it was a great undertaking: Nathaniel wasn't "hearty," + perhaps,—but when you don't average four eggs a day + (for in November and December the hens do act like they are + possessed!); when sometimes your cow will be dry; when your + neighbor is mad and won't remember the + potato-barrel—the outlook for one is not simple; for + two it is sobering. + </p> + <p> + "But I can do it," Lizzie said to herself, and set her lips + hard together. + </p> + <p> + The gate clicked shut, and Mrs. Butterfield came in, running + almost. "Look here, Lizzie Graham,—oh my! wait till I + get my breath;—<i>Lizzie, you can't do it.</i> + Because—" And then, panting, she explained. "So, you + see, you just can't," she repeated. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie said something under her breath, and stared with blank + bewilderment at her informant. + </p> + <p> + "Maybe Josh don't know?" + </p> + <p> + "Maybe he does know," retorted Mrs. Butterfield. "Goodness! + makes me tremble to think if he hadn't told me to-night! + Supposin' he hadn't let on about it till this time + to-morrow?" + </p> + <p> + Lizzie put her hands over her face with an exclamation of + dismay. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, well, there!" Mrs. Butterfield said, comfortably; "I + don't believe Nat'll mind after he's been at the Farm a bit. + Honest, I don't, Lizzie. How comes it you didn't know + yourself?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure I don't know; it ain't on my certificate, anyhow. + Maybe it's on the voucher; but I ain't read that since I + first went to sign it. I just go every three months and draw + my money, and think no more about it. Maybe—if they + knew at Washington—" + </p> + <p> + "Sho! they couldn't make a difference for one; and it's just + what Josh says—they ain't goin' to pay you for havin' a + dead husband if you got a live one. Well, it wouldn't be + sense, Lizzie." + </p> + <p> + Lizzie shook her head. "Wait till I look at my paper—" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Butterfield followed her into the house, and waited + while she lighted a lamp and lifted a blue china vase off the + shelf above the stove. "I keep it in here," Lizzie said, + shaking the paper out. Then, unfolding it on the kitchen + table, the two women, the lamplight shining upon their + excited faces, read the certificate together, aloud, with + agitated voices: + </p> + <p> + "BUREAU OF PENSIONS + </p> + <p> + "It is hereby certified that in conformity with the laws of + the United States—" and on through to the end. + </p> + <p> + "It don't say a word about not marryin' again," Lizzie + declared. + </p> + <p> + "Well, all the same, it's the law. Josh knows." + </p> + <p> + Lizzie blew out the lamp, and they went back to the + door-step. Mrs. Butterfield's hard feelings were all gone; + her heart warmed to Nathaniel; warmed even to the mangy dog + that limped out from the barn and curled up on Lizzie's + skirt. But when she went away, "comfortable in her mind," as + she told her husband, Lizzie Graham still sat in the dark + under her elm, trying to get her wits together. + </p> + <p> + "I know Josh is right," she told herself; "he's a careful + talker. I can't do it!" But she winced, and drew in her + breath; poor Nathaniel! + </p> + <p> + She had seen him that afternoon, and had told him, this time + with no embarrassment (for he was as simple as a child about + it), that she had arranged with Mr. Niles to marry them. "An' + you fetch your bag along, Nathaniel, and we'll put the + machine together, evenin's," she said. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, kind woman," he answered, joyously. "Oh, what a weight + you have taken from my soul!" + </p> + <p> + His half-blind eyes were luminous with belief. Lizzie had + smiled, and shaken her head slightly, looking at the battered + rubbish in the bag—the little, tarnished mirrors, one + of them cracked; the two small lenses, scratched and dim; the + handful of rusty cogs and wheels. With what passion he had + dreamed that he would see that which it hath not entered into + the heart of man to conceive! He began to talk, eagerly, of + his invention; but reasonably, it seemed to Lizzie. Indeed, + except for the idea itself, there was nothing that betrayed + the unbalanced mind. His gratitude, too, was sane enough; he + had been planning how he could he useful to her, how he was + to do this or that sort of work for her—at least until + his eyes gave out, he said, cheerfully. "But by that time, + kind woman, my invention will be perfected, and you shall + have no need to consider ways and means." + </p> + <p> + Lizzie, smiling, had left him to his joy, and gone back to + sit under her elm in the twilight, and think soberly of the + economies which a husband—such a husband—would + necessitate. + </p> + <p> + And then Mrs. Butterfield had come panting up to the gate; + and now— + </p> + <p> + "I don't see as I can tell him!" she thought, desperately. To + go and say to Nathaniel, all eager and happy and full of hope + as he was, "You must go to the Farm,"—would be like + striking in the face some child that is holding out its arms + to you. Lizzie twisted her hands together. "I just can't!" + But, of course, she would have to. That was all there was to + it. If she married him, why, there would be two to go to the + Farm instead of one. Oh, why wouldn't they give her her + pension if she married again! Her eyes smarted with tears; + Nathaniel's pain seemed to her unendurable. + </p> + <p> + But all the same, the next morning, heavily, she set out to + tell him. + </p> + <p> + At Dyer's, Jonesville had gathered to see the sight; and as + she came up to the porch, there were nudgings and + whisperings, and Hiram Wells, bolder than the rest, said, + "Well, Mis' Graham, this is a fine day for a weddin'—" + </p> + <p> + Lizzie Graham, without turning her head, said, coldly, "There + ain't goin' to be no weddin'." Then she went on upstairs to + Nathaniel's room. + </p> + <p> + The idlers on the porch looked at each other and guffawed. "I + knowed Sam was foolin' us," somebody said. + </p> + <p> + But Sam defended himself. "I tell you I wa'n't foolin'. You + ask Rev. Niles; she told me only yesterday he said he'd tie + the knot. I ain't foolin'. She's changed her mind, that's + all." + </p> + <p> + "Lookin' for a handsomer man," Hiram suggested;—"chance + for yourself, Sam!" + </p> + <p> + Lizzie, hot-cheeked, heard the laughter, and went on + up-stairs. Nathaniel was sitting on the edge of his bed, his + hat on, his poor coat buttoned to his chin; he was holding + his precious bag, gripped in two nervous hands, on his knee. + When he heard her step, he drew a deep breath. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, kind woman!" he said; "I'd begun to fear you were not + coming." + </p> + <p> + "I am—a little late," Lizzie said. "I—I was + detained." + </p> + <p> + "It does not matter," he said, cheerfully; "I have had much + food for thought while awaiting you. I have been thinking + that this wonderful invention will be really your gift to + humanity, not mine. Had I gone to the Farm, it would never + have been. Now—!" His voice broke for joy. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, well, I don't know 'bout that," Lizzie said, nervously; + "I guess you could 'a' done it anywheres." + </p> + <p> + "No, no; it would have been impossible. And think, Lizzie + Graham, what it will mean to the sorrowful world! See," he + explained, solemnly; "we poor creatures have not been able to + conceive that of which we have had no experience; the unborn + child cannot know the meaning of life. If the babe in the + womb questioned, What is birth? what is living? could even + its own mother tell it? Nay! So we, questioning: 'God, what + is death? what is immortality?' Not even God can tell us. The + unborn soul, carried in the womb of Time, has waited death to + know the things of Eternity, just as the unborn babe waits + birth to know the things of life. But now, <i>now</i>, is + coming to the world the gift of sight!" + </p> + <p> + There was a pause; Lizzie Graham swallowed once, and set her + lips; then she said, "I am afraid, Nathaniel, that I—I + can't marry you—because—" + </p> + <p> + "Marry me?" he said, with a confused look. + </p> + <p> + "We were to get married to-day, you know, Nathaniel?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Yes; but—but I can't, Nathaniel." + </p> + <p> + "Never mind," he said. "Shall we go now, kind woman?" He + rose, smiling, and stretched out one groping hand. + Involuntarily she took it; then stood still, and tried to + speak. He turned patiently towards her. "Must we wait + longer?" he asked, gently. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Nathaniel, I—I don't know what to say, but—" + </p> + <p> + A startled look came into his face. "Is anything the matter?" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Oh!</i>" Lizzie said. "It just breaks my heart!" + </p> + <p> + His face turned suddenly gray; he sat down, trembling; the + contents of his bag rattled, and something + snapped—perhaps another mirror broke. He put one hand + up to his head. + </p> + <p> + "It's that pension," Lizzie said, brokenly; "if I get + married, I lose it. An' we wouldn't have a cent to live on. + You—you see how it is, Nathaniel?" + </p> + <p> + He began to whisper to himself, not listening to her. There + was a long pause, broken by his strange whispering. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie Graham looked at him, and turned her eyes away, + wincing with pain;—the tears were rolling slowly down + his cheeks. She put her hand on his shoulder in a passion of + pity; then, suddenly, fiercely, she gathered the poor bowed + head against her soft breast. "I don't care! My name ain't + worth as much as that! Let 'em talk. Nathaniel, are you + willin' <i>not</i> to get married?" + </p> + <p> + But she had to speak twice before he heard her. Then he said, + looking up at her out of his despair: "What? What did you + say?" + </p> + <p> + "Nathaniel," she explained, kneeling beside him and holding + his hand against her bosom, "if you were to come and live + with me, and we were not married—" + </p> + <p> + But he was not listening. A door opened down-stairs, and + there was a noisy burst of laughter; then it closed, and the + hot room was still. + </p> + <p> + "Emily Butterfield will stand my friend," she said, her lips + tightening. Then, gently: "We won't get married; Nathaniel. + You will just come and visit me until—until the machine + is finished." + </p> + <p> + "You will let me come?" he said, with a gasp; "you will let + me finish my invention?" He got up, trembling, clutching his + bag, and holding out one hand to clasp hers. + </p> + <p> + Lizzie Graham took it, and stood stock-still for one hard + moment.... + </p> + <p> + Then she led him down-stairs, out upon the porch, past the + loafers gaping and nudging each other. + </p> + <p> + "Goin' to be married, after all, Mis' Graham?" some one said. + </p> + <p> + And Lizzie Graham turned and faced them. "No," she said, + calmly. + </p> + <p> + Then they went out into the sunshine together. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="AND ANGELS CAME"></a> + <h2> + "AND ANGELS CAME—" + </h2> + <h3> + BY ANNE O'HAGAN + </h3> + <p> + The full effulgence of cloudless midsummer enveloped the + place. The lawns, bright and soft, sloped for half a mile to + the sweetbrier hedge. Among them wound the drive, now and + again crossing the stone bridges of the small, curving lake + which gave the estate its affected name—Lakeholm. To + the left of the house a coppice of bronze beeches shone with + dark lustre; clumps of rhododendrons enlivened the green with + splashes of color. Lombardy poplars, with their gibbetlike + erectness, bordered the roads and intersected them with + mathematical shadows; here and there rose a feathery elm or a + maple of wide-branched beauty. To the right, a shallow fall + of terraces led to the Italian garden, Mrs. Dinsmore's chief + pride, now a glory of matched and patterned color and a + dazzle of spray from marble basins. Beyond all the careful, + exotic beauty of the place, the wide valley dipped away, + alternate meadow and grove, until it met the silvery shiver + of willows marking the course of the river. Beyond that + again, the hills, solemn in unbroken green, rose to + cloud-touched heights. + </p> + <p> + Before the house Brockton's new automobile waited. He himself + leaned against a stone pillar of the piazza, facing his + hostess, who sat on the edge of a chair in the tense attitude + of protest against delay. She had scarcely recovered from her + waking crossness yet, and found herself more irritated than + amused at the eccentricities of her guest. She was wondering + with unusual asperity why a man with such lack-lustre blue + eyes dared to wear a tie of such brilliant contrast. He + interrupted her musings. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Harned seems mighty stand-offish these days." + </p> + <p> + "Millicent is a little difficult," admitted Millicent's + cousin. + </p> + <p> + "What do you suppose it is? She seemed all smooth enough in + New York last winter, and even in the spring after—But + now—" He paused again without finishing his sentence. + "And I had counted on your influence to make her more + approachable." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Millicent is having a struggle with her better nature, + that is all," laughed Mrs. Dinsmore. "It's hard living with + her during the process, but she's adorable once her noble + impulses have been vanquished and she's comfortably like the + rest of the world again." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know what you mean," said the downright Mr. + Brockton. + </p> + <p> + "No?" Mrs. Dinsmore was sure that the impertinence of her + monosyllable would be lost upon her elderly protege. "I'll + make it clear to you, if I can. Millicent, you know, has + nothing—" + </p> + <p> + "With that figure and that face?" interrupted Brockton, with + gallant enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + "I was speaking in your terms, Mr. Brockton," said the lady, + with suave hauteur. "Of course all of us count my cousin's + charm and accomplishments, though we do not inventory them as + possessions far above rubies. But in the valuation of the + 'change she has nothing. Oh, she may manage to extract five + or six hundred a year from some investments of my uncle, and + she has the old Harned place in New Hampshire. That might + bring in as much as seven hundred dollars if the abandoned + farm-fever were still on—" + </p> + <p> + "By ginger!" boasted Brockton, whose expletives lacked + <i>ton</i>, "it's more than I had when I started." + </p> + <p> + "So I remember your saying before. But I fear that my cousin + is not a financial genius. What I meant by her struggles with + her better nature is that she sometimes tries to thwart us + when we want to make things easy for her. Her better nature + had a fearful tussle with her common sense about five years + ago, when Aunt Jessie asked her to go abroad; and it nearly + overcame her frivolity and her vanity last winter when I met + her at the dock and insisted upon having her spend the winter + with me, and our second cousin, Alicia Broome, offered to be + responsible for her wardrobe. But, thanks be," she added, + laughing, "the world, the flesh, and the devil won. So cheer + up, Mr. Brockton. It may happen again." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I'm not hopeless by any manner of means. I want her + pretty badly, and I'm used to getting what I want. I told + her, out and out, when she turned me down, back there in May, + that if she were a young girl I wouldn't urge her any more, + after what she said about her feelings. But she wasn't, and I + thought she could look at a proposition from a plain business + point of view." + </p> + <p> + "You told her that? You mentioned to her that she was no + longer a young girl?" Mrs. Dinsmore's laugh rippled + delightedly on the air. + </p> + <p> + "I did. Oh, I'm used to bargaining," he rejoined, proudly. "I + always could make the other fellow see what he'd lose by + refusing my offers. And I got her to take the matter under + consideration. I heard somewhere that she was interested in + some philanthropy. Well, money comes in handy in charity." He + grinned broadly at Mrs. Dinsmore. + </p> + <p> + At that moment her protege was extremely distasteful to the + lady. But she was a philosopher where marriage was concerned, + and she whole-heartedly hoped that her cousin Millicent would + not dally too long with her opportunity and allow the + matrimonial prize to escape. She was sincerely fond of + Millicent, and desired for her the best things in the world. + She sometimes said so with touching earnestness. + </p> + <p> + "She told me"—Mr. Brockton stumbled + slightly—"that there wasn't any one else." + </p> + <p> + "There isn't. She has her train—she's enormously + admired—but there is no one in whom she is + sentimentally interested. And Aunt Jessie says it was so all + the time they were in Europe." + </p> + <p> + "Wasn't there ever?" he demanded. + </p> + <p> + "My dear Mr. Brockton, Millicent is twenty-nine, as you + reminded her, and she's a normal woman! Of course there have + been some ones—her music-master at fourteen, I dare + say, and an actor at sixteen, and a young curate at + eighteen—oh, of course I'm jesting. But I suppose she + was somewhat like other girls. She was engaged at + nineteen—and he must have been quite twenty-three! No, + I should dismiss all jealousy of her past if I were you." + </p> + <p> + "Engaged?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dinsmore wondered suddenly if she had been wise, after + all, to admit that widely known fact. + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes, a bread-and-butter engagement. My uncle was + notoriously inadequate in all practical affairs; he was a + scholar and something of a recluse and the most charming + gentleman I ever saw, but a child in worldly matters,—a + child! It ended, you see." + </p> + <p> + "How did it end?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, poor Will Hayter died." + </p> + <p> + "Dead long?" + </p> + <p> + "Five or six years." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'm not afraid of dead men." Brockton laughed in + relief. Mrs. Dinsmore did not point out to him from her more + subtle knowledge that constancy to the unchanging dead is + sometimes easier than constancy to the variable living. She + was only too glad to have the inevitable disclosure made + lightly and the truth dismissed without frightening off the + desirable suitor. "And certainly Miss Harned don't look as + if, as if—" + </p> + <p> + "Any irremediable grief were gnawing at her damask + cheeks?—" + </p> + <p> + "What's this about damask cheeks?" The question came along + with a swirl of skirts from the great hall. "Cousin Anna, + don't hate me for keeping you so long. Mr. Brockton, I owe + you a thousand apologies." + </p> + <p> + Some of those who admitted Millicent Harned's charm declared + that it lay in her voice. Always there sounded through its + music the note of eagerness, with eagerness's underlying hint + of pathos. Her tones were like her face, her motions, + herself. Impulse, merriment, yearning, and the shadow of + melancholy dwelt in her eyes and shaped her lips to sensitive + curves. She was tall, and her motions were of a spontaneous + grace, swifter and more changeful than most women's. + </p> + <p> + "You have been a disgracefully long time, Millicent," her + cousin answered her apology. "But"—she looked at the + beautifully gowned figure, the lovely, imaginative face, + thereby, like a good showman, calling Mr. Brockton's + attention to them—"we'll forgive you." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it wasn't primping that kept me. I stopped for a few + minutes at the schoolroom door. Poor Lena! She seemed to be + feeling the responsibilities of erudition terribly this + morning. She showed me her botany slides with such an air! Do + you know what genus has the <i>rostellum</i>, Anna?" + </p> + <p> + "No, I don't," said Anna, shortly. "And Lena's growing up a + perfect young prig. I'll have to change governesses. Heaven + knows what I'll draw next time! The last one had charm, but + no learning, and mighty little intelligence. This one has no + manner at all, and is of encyclopaedic information. A + daughter's a terrible responsibility." + </p> + <p> + "Isn't she?" Millicent's tone was one of affectionate + raillery as she gathered her draperies about her in the + automobile. The notion of Anna's responsibilities amused her; + Anna was so untouched by them—as smooth-skinned, as + slim and vivacious, as the forty-year-old mother of two boys + entering college, a girl in the schoolroom and another in the + nursery, as she had been as a <i>debutante</i>. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you may make fun," said Anna, snapping open the frothy + thing she called a sunshade, "but you don't know how I lie + awake nights, shuddering lest Lena grow up a near-sighted + girl with no color and serious views." + </p> + <p> + Millicent only smiled as the great machine moved off. The + sunshine, the rare and ordered beauty of the place, the + fragrance of the soft winds, all lapped her in indolence. As + they neared the gate that gave upon the open road, a turn + brought them in sight of the front of the house. It was very + beautiful. She breathed deeply in the content of the + sight—the delicate lines, the soft color, the + perfection of detail. In the gardens were stained, mellow + columns and balustrades which Anna had brought from the + dismantled palace in the Italian hills where she had found + them. Everywhere wealth made its subtlest, most delicate + appeal to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "My house," thought Millicent, as they shot out of the + grounds, "shall be different, but as beautiful. The Tudor + style, I think, and for my out-of-door glory a vast + rose-garden,—acres, if I please!" Then she called + sternly to her straying imagination. She was picturing what + she might have as the wife of the man before her—the + man whose first proposal she had unhesitatingly refused, + whose appearance at Lakeholm she had regarded as proof of + disloyalty on Anna's part—the man who at the best + represented to her only the artistic possibilities of riches. + She dismissed her reverie with a frown and joined in the + talk. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know," she confessed, "I forget where it is that we + are going?" + </p> + <p> + "We're coming back to the Monroes' for luncheon," Mrs. + Dinsmore reminded her. "But Mr. Brockton is going to skim + over most of the Berkshires first. I think you said you + hadn't been in this part of the country before, Mr. + Brockton?" + </p> + <p> + "No," said Brockton, "I haven't had much chance to get + acquainted with the playgrounds of the country. I've been too + busy earning a holiday. But I've earned it all right." He + turned to emphasize his boast with a nod toward Millicent. + She blushed. His very chauffeur must redden at his braggart + air, she thought. The Tudor castle grew dim in her vision. + </p> + <p> + "What do you think of the bubble, Miss Harned?" he went on. + "Goes like a bird, don't she?" + </p> + <p> + "Indeed she does," answered Millicent, characteristically + making immediate atonement in voice and look for the mental + criticism of the moment before. "It's really going like a + bird. I don't suppose we shall ever have a sensation more + like flying." + </p> + <p> + "Not until our celestial pinions are adjusted," said Anna. + Brockton laughed, but Millicent went on: + </p> + <p> + "Seriously, the loveliest belief I ever lost was the one in + the wings with which my virtues should be at last rewarded. + To breast the ether among the whirling stars,—didn't + you ever lie awake and think of the possibility of that, + Anna?" + </p> + <p> + "Never! I'm no poet in a state of suffocation, as I sometimes + suspect you of being." + </p> + <p> + "As for heaven," declared Brockton, "I don't take much stock + in all that. We're here—we know that—and we'd + better make the most of it. For all we know, it's our last + chance to have a good time. Better take all that's coming to + you here and now, Miss Harned, and not count much on those + wings of yours." + </p> + <p> + Millicent smiled mechanically. Could any Elizabethan garden + of delight compensate for the misery of having each butterfly + of fancy crushed between Lemuel Brockton's big hands in this + fashion? + </p> + <p> + They were entering a village. Before them was the triangular + green with the soldier's monument upon it. About it were the + post-office, the stores, the small neat houses of the place. + A white church, tall-steepled, green-shuttered, rose behind + the monument, and with it dominated the square. A wagon or + two toiled lazily along the road; before the stores a few + dusty buggies were tied. The place seemed drowsy to + stagnation in the summer heat. Why, Millicent wondered, were + towns so crude and unlovely in the midst of a country so + beautiful? + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden explosive sound, and, with a crunch and a + jerk which almost threw them from their seats, the machine + came to a standstill. Brockton and his chauffeur were out in + an instant, the one peering beneath, the other examining more + closely. He emerged in a moment, and there was a jargon of + explanation, unintelligible to the two women. All that Anna + and Millicent understood was that the accident was not + serious; that they would be delayed only a few minutes, and + that Brockton was very angry with some one for the mishap. + The two men worked together. Anna looked at her cousin. + </p> + <p> + "I'm dead sleepy," she half whispered. "The wind in my face + and the sun are too soporific for me. Let us not say a word + to each other." + </p> + <p> + "You read last night," Millicent accused her. "But I don't + feel particularly conversational myself." + </p> + <p> + She leaned back and surveyed the scene again. She could read + the words graved on the granite block beneath the bronze + soldier: + </p> + <p> + "To the men of Warren who fought that their country might be + whole and their fellows free this tribute of love is + erected." + </p> + <p> + And there followed the honor-roll of Warren's fallen. + </p> + <p> + Millicent's sensitive lips quivered a little. Her ready + imagination pictured them coming to this very square, + perhaps,—the men of Warren. Boys from the hill farms, + men from the village shops, the blacksmith who had worked in + the light of yonder old forge, the carpenter who was father + to the one now leisurely hammering a yellow L upon that + weather-stained house,—she saw them all. What had led + them? What call had sounded in their ears that they should + leave their ploughshares in the furrows, their tills, their + anvils, and their benches? What better thing had stirred with + the primeval instinct for fight, with the unquenchable, + restless longing for adventure, to send them forth? She read + the words again—"that their country might be whole and + their fellows free." + </p> + <p> + She moved impatiently. For now an old shadowy theory of + hers—an inheritance from the theories of the recluse, + her father—stirred from a long-drugged quiet: a theory + that there was a disintegrating unpatriotism in the + untouched, charmed life of riches she and her fellows sought. + She felt the disturbing conviction that those common + men—she could almost hear their blundering speech, see + their uncouth yawns at the sights and sounds of beauty on + which she fed her soul—that those men had wells of life + within them purer, sweeter, than she. She averted her eyes + from the monument. + </p> + <p> + "Honey!" called a voice, full-throated and + loving—"honey, where are you?" + </p> + <p> + There was a play-tent on the little patch of yard before the + brown cottage to the left. The voice had come from the narrow + piazza. Millicent shivered as she looked at it, with its + gingerbread decorations already succumbing to the strain of + the seasons. The answer came from the tent: + </p> + <p> + "Here I am, muvver. Did you want me?" + </p> + <p> + She came out—a child of five or six years. The + round-eyed solemnity of babyhood had not left her yet. She + brought her small doll family with her, and a benevolent + collie ambled beside her. Her mother watched, tenderness + beautifying her brown eyes: she was a young woman, no older + than Millicent, but her face was more lined than Anna's; a + strand of dark hair was blown across her cheek; there were + fruit stains on her apron. All the marks of a busy household + life were about her, all the bounteous restfulness of a woman + well beloved, and the anxieties of a loving woman. She gave + the automobile a passing glance, but it had no interest for + her. Her eyes came back to caress the young thing which + toiled up the steps to her, babbling of a morning's events in + the tent. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sweetheart, that was very nice," she said, in answer to + some breathless demand for sympathy. "And mother has brought + you the bread and jam she promised you this morning. Will you + eat it here, or in the tent?" + </p> + <p> + "Couldn't I come into the kitchen to eat it, where you are?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, yes, honey, if you want to." + </p> + <p> + The door closed upon the vision of intimate love. Millicent + saw Lena walking sedately with the governess of no charm and + encyclopaedic information. + </p> + <p> + "Now we're all right," called Brockton, loudly. "Upon my + word, Mrs. Dinsmore, I think you were asleep! Miss Harned, + you can't be as entertaining as I thought if your cousin + falls asleep with you." + </p> + <p> + "But think how soothing I must be; that's even better than to + be entertaining." + </p> + <p> + "By ginger! I never found that out—that you were + soothing, I mean." It was evident that Mr. Brockton intended + a compliment. Anna Dinsmore saw the annoyed red whip out upon + Millicent's cheeks. She interposed a few ready, irrelevant + questions before the tide of Brockton's flattery. + </p> + <p> + They made their swift way through the hills, sometimes + overlooking the winding course of the river, sometimes + skirting the great estates of the region, again whizzing + noisily through an old village. Anna and Brockton sustained + the weight of conversation. Millicent smiled in vague + sympathy with their laughter and Joined at random in the + talk. Obstinately her mind had stayed behind her—with + the men of Warren, with the round-faced child, and the woman + to whose life love and not art gave all its beauty. + </p> + <p> + They approached one of the larger old towns of the + country—a place with a bustling main street and + elm-shaded thoroughfares branching from it. Here were ample, + well-kept lawns and houses of prosperous dignity. It seemed + charming to Millicent with its air of unhurried activity or + undrowsy repose. + </p> + <p> + "What is this, Anna?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + Anna told her. + </p> + <p> + "Riverfield?" Millicent repeated the name, but in a strange + voice. Anna stared a little. + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Why? Do you know any one here?" + </p> + <p> + "No." The word trickled slowly, unwillingly, from Millicent. + </p> + <p> + "Lovely town, and there are some good places outside," said + Anna. "The Ostranders have one, and Jimson, the artist. But + the native city, or whatever you call it, is adorable. It has + that air of rewarded virtue which makes one ashamed of one's + life—" + </p> + <p> + "I wish"—Millicent still spoke remotely, as if out of a + sleep—"I wish, Mr. Brockton, that we might find a + little library and museum they have here." + </p> + <p> + "Why, of course!" + </p> + <p> + "Are you going to compare it with the Vatican, Millicent?" + asked Anna, flippantly. Millicent turned a distant, starry + gaze upon her cousin. + </p> + <p> + "No," she said; and then, in a flash of sympathy and fright, + Anna remembered that it had been for some little Berkshire + town that Will Hayter had built a library and museum just + before his death, six years before—the town from which + his family had originally come. Her memory worked rapidly, + constructing the story. The blood dyed her face at the + thought of her obtuseness. Then she set her lips firmly. She + had done her best; if a wanton fate chose to interfere now + and make Millicent slave to the phantom of her early, radiant + love, she, Anna, could do no more! + </p> + <p> + "Here we are, I guess," called Brockton. The machine shot + into a broad street. A promenade between a double row of elms + down its centre gave it a spacious dignity. The modest + courthouse stood on one side, as green-bowered as if Justice + were a smiling goddess; a few churches broke the stretch of + houses. And on the other side the library and museum stood. + </p> + <p> + "Pretty little building, but plain," commented Brockton, + making disparaging note of its graceful severity. + </p> + <p> + "It's exactly suited to the place; it epitomizes its spirit," + said Anna, glibly. "It's austere without being + forbidding—perfect Colonial adaptation of the Greek." + </p> + <p> + Millicent made no architectural observation. Instead she + said: "If you don't mind, I should like to go in for a while. + You could pick me up later, perhaps on your way back + to—Where is it we are lunching?" + </p> + <p> + Consternation looked out of Anna's eyes, bewilderment out of + Brockton's. But Millicent turned to them with such gentle + command in her gaze that they could offer no protest. + </p> + <p> + "Come back in half an hour, if you are ready," she said. Upon + Anna, whose baffled look followed her up the flagging between + the close-clipt lawns, there came the feeling that she was + leaving her cousin alone with the beloved dead. + </p> + <p> + "Now what—" began Brockton, in full-toned + protest,—"what the—" + </p> + <p> + "That was the last thing Will Hayter did,"—Anna + interrupted his question. "And the first, so to speak. It was + a fairly important commission. Jessup, the Trya Drop liniment + man, came from Riverfield—he has a mammoth place + outside now. When he began to coin money faster than the + mint, he gave lots of things to his birthplace—which + has always blushed for him. It's prouder that Whittier once + spent Sunday with one of its citizens than that Alonzo Jessup + is its son. Well, he gave the library and museum, and the + commission went to Will Hayter. The Hayters came from here + two or three generations ago. It was just before his death, + and Millicent has been abroad almost ever since. So she had + never seen it." + </p> + <p> + Brockton gave a look of speechless chagrin at his hostess, + which she answered haughtily: + </p> + <p> + "My dear Mr. Brockton, after all, I never undertook to be a + marriage-broker!" Then she glanced at the chauffeur and + forbore. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Millicent sat in one of the square exhibition-halls. + The sweet air, with the scent of hay from the farther country + faintly impregnating it, blew through the quiet. No one else + shared the room with her. The even light soothed her eyes, + the stillness calmed the fluttering apprehension in her + breast which had presaged she knew not what fresh anguish of + loss. There were pictures on the walls—one or two not + despicable originals which Trya Drop Jessup had given, many + copies, and a few specimens of Riverfield's native talent. + But she saw none of them, any more than one sees the windows + and the paintings in a great cathedral in the first fulness + of reverence. To her this was a sacred place. That grief had + lost its poignancy, that youth and health with cruel + insistence had reasserted their sway over her life, did not + mean forgetfulness, unfaith. + </p> + <p> + "Truly, truly,"—she almost breathed the words + aloud,—"there has been no other one. That was my love, + young as we were. But I must fill up the days—I must + fill up the days." + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + Her eyes were fixed unseeingly upon a great canvas at the + other end of the hall. Some Riverfield hand had portrayed a + Riverfield imagination's conception of the moment in the life + of Christ when, the temptations of Satan withstood, angels + came to Him upon the mountain. In the lower distance the + kingdoms of the world grew dim beneath the shadow that fell + from the vanquished and retreating tempter, and from the + opening heavens a dazzling cloud of angels streamed toward + the solitary Figure on the height. By and by Millicent's eyes + took note of it. She half smiled. There was daring at least! + </p> + <p> + Then the picture faded, and again the persistent figure of + the child which had so filled her imagination came before + her. But this time it was toward herself that the rosy face + was turned and limpid eyes lifted in unquestioning + dependence. She was the mother; she stood on the piazza, and + by her side he stood, who had been so dear in himself, so + infinitely dearer in the thought of all that should be; + toward them the child came; they were enveloped by breathless + love for each other and for that being, innocent, trusting, + which their love had called into life. So, dimly, she had + dreamed in the radiant days of old. Almost she could feel his + hand upon her shoulder, hear his voice full of tenderness + that expressed itself only in tone, not in word, taking + refuge from too great feeling in jest. She closed her eyes + against the vision that made her faint with anguish. + </p> + <p> + Some one entered the room with a brisk little trot; Millicent + opened her eyes and turned her head. A small woman, "old + maid" from the top of her neat gray head to the toe of her + list shoes, came forward. She held a pad and pencil and wore + the badge of authority in her manner. At sight of Millicent + she paused, blinking behind her glasses. Millicent came + slowly out of her trance; recognition dawned upon her. She + rose. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Hayter—Aunt Harriet!" she cried, advancing. + </p> + <p> + "It is you, then!" chirped the elder lady. "My dear, who + could have expected this?" + </p> + <p> + "Not I, for one!" She held both Miss Hayter's hands. "I had + no idea you were here. Surely you haven't given up your + beloved Boston school?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh no. Only in the summer I come here for a month and + substitute for the regular curator while she is on her + vacation. It"—she struggled against a constitutional + distaste for self-revelation—"it seems like a little + visit with Will, somehow." + </p> + <p> + Millicent's throat throbbed with a strangled sob. No one had + spoken his name in so long! Her people had had no interest + but to banish the memory of him from her heart; this quaint + little aunt of his, who had adored him and lived for him, was + the first who had spoken of him in—she did not know how + many years. She held tight to the old hands, her eyes clung + to the withering face. "Say it again," she whispered; "say + his name." + </p> + <p> + "Why, my dear," cried the older woman, "is it still as hard + as this? Come, sit down here with me. Of course I knew that + you were not one of the changing kind,"—Millicent + winced,—"but I'm sorry to think you should suffer now + as keenly as you do." + </p> + <p> + "It is not just that," said Millicent, shamefacedly. "Only, + seeing you unexpectedly gave me a pang. And then, being in + the place he built—" + </p> + <p> + The older woman patted her hand soothingly. "I understand," + she said. "I've always understood. When—when you didn't + write after the very first, I knew it was because you + couldn't, not because you forgot. You were really made for + each other, you two. I think I never saw two such radiant, + happy creatures in the world. Ah, well!" she wiped a sudden + dew from her glasses, "waiting's hard, my dear, but it + ends,—it ends." + </p> + <p> + Millicent was hurt by the unbroken faith in her, by the + unquestioning belief she could not share. She looked + wistfully upon the shining, tearful eyes. + </p> + <p> + "It is very beautiful to think that," she said, "but, dear + Aunt Harriet, you are mistaken about me. I am going to tell + you everything. I—I loved your nephew. I shall not love + any one else. It happened to come to me in perfectness when I + was young—love. But I live, I am well, I am alive to + pleasure and pain. How shall I fill up my life but with the + things that still matter to me?" + </p> + <p> + "You think of marrying, you mean?" Aunt Harriet's voice was + dry and harsh. "Well—I am sure Will would wish your + happiness, and I—it would not be for me to object. + Every day it is done, and very often rightly, I suppose; for + money, for companionship, for the chance of self-development, + women marry without love. I—I could only wish you + happiness." + </p> + <p> + "You—do not understand." + </p> + <p> + "My dear,"—her voice softened again; something in the + pallor and the quivering pain of the girl touched + her,—"I do not mean to speak hardly to you. It seems to + me like this: when it comes to piecing out a life that has + been broken, as yours was—as mine was, my dear, as mine + was—there are two ways of doing it. Either you keep + your ideal of perfect love, and lead your poor every-day life + of odds and ends, like mine, filling your days with the best + scraps of pleasure or usefulness you may, or you give up your + ideal of perfect love and marry, and have your home and your + children and your rounded outward life. There is, maybe, no + question of higher or lower. Each one of us does what her + nature bids her. I had always thought of you as one + who—But it is not for me to judge." + </p> + <p> + Her voice was gentle, and she did not look at Millicent. Her + eyes seemed to pierce the canvas on the opposite wall and the + hangings and the stones behind it, and to see a far image of + souls in the struggle of choice. The woman beside her sat + silent, her thoughts with the idealists—the men who + gave up the comfort of their firesides, the gain of their + occupations, and followed whither the vision led; the woman + whose home was built upon love and who would see only infamy + in houses founded otherwise; the poor soul beside her, + stronger in courage, more aspiring in thought, than she, with + all her delicacies, her refinements of taste. The ideal had + led them all—the ideal, as it had once shone for her + and for him whose spirit had informed and beautified the spot + where she sat and made her choice. + </p> + <p> + "Aunt Harriet," she said, and her face was like the sudden + flashing of stars between torn clouds,—"Aunt + Harriet—" She could not utter the decision in words. + "May I come to see you—and learn something from you?" + </p> + <p> + Miss Hayter looked. There was no need to question. No knight + ever rose from his accolade with a face more glorified than + Millicent's when she silently dedicated herself to the + shining company of those who keep unsullied the early vision. + </p> + <p> + As she passed out of the hall, her eyes fell again upon the + painting of the Temptation. She read the black and gilt + legend below it—"And Angels Came and Ministered Unto + Him." Then she laughed down upon the old-fashioned figure + trotting by her side. "And angels came," she said. + </p> + <p> + Her rapt look frightened Anna when the automobile returned + for her. Then the heart of that frivolous woman was stricken + for a moment with wistfulness. + </p> + <p> + "You seem very happy," she faltered, "and—amused, is + it? What are you smiling over?" + </p> + <p> + "I am still thinking of angels. Would you ever have dreamed, + Anna, that they sometimes wore list shoes, and sometimes ate + bread and jam, and occasionally spoke with granite lips? They + do." + </p> + <p> + Brockton stirred uneasily, foreboding failure. And Anna + sighed, mourning two lost visions. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="KEEPERS OF A CHARGE"></a> + <h2> + KEEPERS OF A CHARGE + </h2> + <h3> + BY GRACE ELLERY CHANNING + </h3> + <p> + The Doctor's brougham stood at the door; the Doctor's + liveried servants waited at the foot of the stairs; the + Doctor himself in his study was gathering together his + paraphernalia for the day, and the Doctor's face was a study. + </p> + <p> + He was tired; he was cross; he was feeling ill. His nervous + hands were unsteady; his movements were by jerks; his face + was a knitted tangle of lines. He had rheumatism in both + shoulders, and a headache, and a pain in his chest. He had + slept but little, and one of his patients had had the happy + idea of despatching a messenger for him in the dead hour of + the night. The Doctor never went out nights, and she ought to + have known this, but her only son was ill and she was + persuaded he could not survive a dozen hours together without + the Doctor's personal attendance. + </p> + <p> + It never seemed to occur to any of his patients that his own + life was of the smallest consequence in the balance with + theirs or that of any member of their families. Occasionally, + when his rheumatism was exceptionally severe or his cough + racking, this reflection embittered the Doctor. At other + times—and this was generally—he accepted with + philosophy this integral selfishness of clients as a part of + their inevitable constitution. They were a set of people + necessarily immersed and absorbed in their own woes, or in + that extension of their woes which was still more + passionately their own, and even more unmercifully insisted + upon in proportion to the decent veneer of altruism it + possessed. + </p> + <p> + Without being strictly a handsome man, the Doctor produced + the effect of one. Nothing gives distinction like character, + and this he had and to spare. He was not a popular physician, + but a famous one; the day was long past when his professional + success depended upon anything so personal as appearance or + manner. He could afford to be—and he frequently + was—as disagreeable as he felt; desperate sufferers + could not afford to resent it, and their relatives, in the + grim struggle for a precious life, swallowed without a + protest the brusqueries and rebuffs of the man who held in, + the hollow of his potent hand their jewel of existence. + </p> + <p> + He had his passionate detractors and his personal devotees, + and these last afflicted him far more than the first. Like + the priest, the physician cannot escape taking on superhuman + proportions in the eyes of those to whom he has rendered back + life, their own or a dearer, and the Doctor (having long + outlived the time when it flattered him) was often + exasperated to the limits of endurance by the blind faith + which asked miracles of him as simply as cups of tea. The + strain these women—they were mostly women, of + course—put upon him was beyond belief, and he got but a + mild pleasure out of the reflection that, being in their + nature foolish, they could not help it. + </p> + <p> + It was quite in keeping, therefore, that one of them should + have broken up his night's sleep. He knew those attacks of + the boy's by heart; there was exactly one chance in one + hundred that his presence should be necessary. He had sent a + safe remedy, telephoned a severe but soothing message, and + mentally prayed now for patience to meet the irrational, + angered eyes of maternity, and to administer a reproof + equally gentle and deterrent—gentle, for of course the + woman's nerves had to be allowed for; she had been nursing + this boy for months. The Doctor slipped into his long, + fur-trimmed overcoat and reached for his tall hat. + </p> + <p> + "You may as well send those Symphony tickets to somebody," he + said, impatiently, to his wife; "I sha'n't be able to go. Ten + to one I shall be late to dinner, and I doubt if I get home + to lunch at all." + </p> + <p> + His wife, who was patiently holding his gloves and + cigar-case, looked at him with a sweet maternal anxiety as he + tumbled together the papers on the table, but she only said, + "Very well." As he turned to take the gloves and cigar-case, + she added, quickly, with a second anxious glance: + </p> + <p> + "Do try to get a few minutes' rest somewhere. Any of our + friends will be so glad to give you a cup of tea—or a + little music—and it always rests you so." + </p> + <p> + The Doctor took the things from her hands; he looked + abstractedly at his wife, then stooped hurriedly and kissed + her. + </p> + <p> + "Don't worry about me; I shall be all right," he said, as he + hastened from the room. It was characteristic of him that he + forgot his clinical thermometer, and was never known to have + a prescription-pad or pencil. + </p> + <p> + One servant opened the house door for him, and another the + carriage door; the Doctor stepped in quickly, growling out a + direction and ignoring the bows of his retainers. He kept his + own for the benefit of his clients, he was wont cynically to + say. He settled himself in the seat, and before the door was + fairly closed had lighted a cigar and unfurled a medical + journal. + </p> + <p> + As the carriage whirled recklessly down the street and around + corners, several feminine patients looked longingly after, as + if virtue went out from it, and several masculine ones raised + their hats, but the Doctor, his eyes glued to the paper, saw + none of them. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps his most restful moments were these spent in his + brougham. It was almost his only time for reading; he had + found, moreover, that this served to keep his mind fresh from + case to case, detaching it from one train of thought and + bringing it with new concentration to the next. These brief + intervals belonged wholly to himself. His home was never safe + from invasion, and little time and less strength remained to + him for domestic joys. + </p> + <p> + Life had not brought to him all that he was conscious might + have been within its gift. Professionally, indeed, he had + reached great heights, but these only enabled a measure of + the territory beyond, and if to his patients he appeared as a + species of demigod, to himself he was merely a "lucky" + physician—his peculiar luck consisting in that sixth + sense which put him so easily into his patients' skins and + pierced through obscure maladies to possible sources. How he + knew a great many things puzzled them, but puzzled him still + more. Simply at certain crises he was aware that mysteries + were momentarily revealed to him. Back of that he possessed, + of course, the usual outfit of medical knowledge, open to any + one, but which had never yet made a great physician since the + world with all its aches and pains began. For <i>that</i> + other things were needed: a coloring of the artistic + temperament, a dash of the gambler's, a touch of femininity, + as well as the solid stratum of cool common sense at the + bottom of all; <i>these</i> eked out the modicum of + scientific knowledge which is all mankind has yet wrested + from secretive nature. The Doctor sometimes described himself + as a "good guesser." Surgery might be an exact science; few + things in medicine were exact, and what was never exact was + the material upon which medicine must work. The great bulk of + his fraternity went through their studious, conscientious, + hard-working, and not infrequently heroic lives under the + contented conviction of having to deal with two principal + facts—disease and medicine—both accessible + through study. To them the imponderable factor of the patient + represented such or such an aggregation of + material—muscle, nerve, blood, brawn, bone, and + tissue—which might be counted upon to respond to such + and such a treatment in such and such a manner, with very + slight variation. The Doctor envied them their simplicity of + faith. To him, on the contrary, the patient was a factor + which could not be counted on, at all—a force about + which he knew virtually nothing, acting upon a mechanism + about which he knew little more, and capable of interactions, + reactions, and counteractions innumerable, reversing and + nullifying all past experience at a moment's notice—an + <i>unforeseen</i> moment always. + </p> + <p> + He eyed this mystery, accordingly, with respect, lying in + wait for hints from it, and frequently reversing in his turn + patiently prepared plans of action, with a prompt speed + impossible to a less supple mind,—impossible at all, + quite often, to any process of conscious thought. To have + these intuitions—that was his touch of femininity; to + risk largely upon them was the gambler in him; his swift + appropriation of the subject's temperament betrayed the + artist in his own; while the hard common sense which drew the + rein on all these was a legitimate inheritance—both + national and personal. So was his manner—not often + extremely courteous and quite often extremely rude. In this + latter case his adorers called it "abstracted," while his + enemies qualified it as "ill-bred." But his voice, ordinarily + abrupt and harsh, could pass to exquisite intonations in the + sick-room, and there were moments when to anxious watchers + therein, the man seemed more than a man. + </p> + <p> + The affinity between physician and artist is one of the most + curious and suggestive. Every one will recall the famous + surgeon-etcher, and the distinguished specialist in nerves + and novels. The Doctor's artistic passion was for music. + Unfortunately, it was not materially portable, like a + writing-pad, and there would have been something unseemly in + the spectacle of a physician fiddling in his carriage, so he + nursed this love in seclusion. His violin was his one + indulgence, and when he permitted himself to dream, it was of + a life with music in it. Sometimes he wished his wife were + musical; more often he congratulated himself that she was + not. He was sincerely attached to her, owing—and, what + was more significant, realizing that he owed—her much + besides the promising twins; most of all, perhaps, that she + consented to be his wife on his own terms. But she was + distinctly not musical. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor laid down his paper and took up his mail, and a + disagreeable expression came into his face. It was one of the + pleasant features of his professional career that his brother + physicians occasionally vented their jealousy of him upon one + of their joint patients—stabbing him, so to speak, + through <i>their</i> lungs or heart, wherein he was most + vulnerable. Just as he expected! They had deliberately + neglected his prescriptions, after calling him a + winter-journey north to deliver them, and as deliberately + allowed the victim to die according to their treatment rather + than permit him to live according to the Doctor's. + </p> + <p> + The look upon his face was ugly to behold; he flung open the + door with unnecessary violence before the carriage had + stopped, and his foot was on the pavement before the footman + could descend. Then he braced his rheumatic shoulders for the + four steep flights of stairs; he could not justly complain of + the number, since he himself had sent the patient there to be + high and dry and quiet. On the way up he had one of his + nameless seizures of intuition, and in the dark upper hall + his hand fell sharply away from the knocker and his face set + whitely. There had been just one chance in a hundred that his + presence was necessary; before the door opened he knew this + had been the hundredth chance. + </p> + <p> + The ghastly woman's face which met him added nothing to that + certitude, yet he winced before it in every nerve. + </p> + <p> + "You have come too late," she articulated only. + </p> + <p> + "<i>No</i>!" thundered the Doctor. He put her aside like a + piece of furniture and strode into the darkened room beyond. + </p> + <p> + It was more than an hour later when he emerged. The woman + stood exactly where he had left her. It was another, tall and + young, who turned from the window and looked at him with eyes + that hurt. But he did not wince this time. + </p> + <p> + "It's all right!" he said, cheerfully. His voice quite sang + with sweetness. He came and stood a moment by the window, + breathing hard. His face was gray, but his eyes smiled, and + there was something boyish in his aspect. He looked from one + woman to the other sunnily. + </p> + <p> + "Bless me—you ought never to let yourselves go like + that! He'll pull through all right." + </p> + <p> + The younger woman continued to look at him silently, but the + elder, with a long quivering sigh, fainted. + </p> + <p> + "Best thing she could possibly do," said the Doctor, his + fingers on her pulse. "Get her to bed as soon as you + can,—and have these prescriptions sent out. I'll come + back later. He'll sleep hours now." + </p> + <p> + He ran down-stairs, consulting his visiting-list as he ran, + and jumped into the brougham, calling an address as he pulled + the door to with a slam. This time, however, he did not take + out his papers, but sat with an unlighted cigar between his + lips, gazing intently at nothing. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the next few hours he looked over an + assortment of ailing babies, soothed as many distracted + mothers, ordered to a gay watering-place one young girl whom + he was obliged to treat for chronic headache—chronic + heartache not being professionally recognizable,— + administered the pathetically limited alleviations of his art + to a failing cancer-patient (she happened to be a rich woman, + going with the fortitude of the poor down the road to the + great Darkness), and so, looking in on various pneumonias and + fevers, broken souls and bruised bodies, by the way, brought + up at last at the hospital to see how yesterday's operation + was going on. It was going on in so very mixed a manner that + he telephoned he should not return to lunch—prophesying + long after the event. + </p> + <p> + It was turning dusk when he started on his second round of + visits homeward, stopping on the outskirts to rebandage, in + one of the tenements, a child's broken arm. He had not + returned his footman's salutation that morning, but had + carried in his subconsciousness all day this visit to the + footman's child. In one manner or another that inconvenient + locality had been compassed in his circuit for the past three + weeks. From it he passed to his daily ordeal, another rich + patient, a nervous wreck, whose primary ailment—the + lack of anything to do—had passed into the advanced + stages of an inability to do anything, with its sad Nemesis + of melancholia—the registered protest of the dying + soul. It was a case which took more out of the Doctor than + all his day's practice put together; he always came from it + in a misery of doubts. + </p> + <p> + The dusk was becoming the dark when he set his foot wearily + on the carriage step once more, and with his hand on the + carriage door paused suddenly. He was sick of sickness, + mortally tired of mortality! For the first time in the whole + day he hesitated; an odd, irresolute look came into his face; + he pulled out his watch, glanced, and changing his + first-given address for another, threw himself back on the + cushions with closed eyes. He did not open them again until + the carriage, rolling through many streets, came to a halt + under some quiet trees, before an apartment-house. There were + yellow daffodils between white curtains—very white and + high up. As he stepped out, the Doctor glanced involuntarily + towards them, and a half-breath of relief escaped him, + instantly quenched in a nervous frown and jump as his arm was + seized by a firm gloved hand. + </p> + <p> + "Doctor,—this is really <i>providential</i>! You are + the very person I wished to see!" + </p> + <p> + It was the younger of two heavily upholstered and matronly + ladies who spoke, in a voice of many underscorings. The + Doctor, who had removed his hat with a purely mechanical + motion, knew himself a prey, identified his captor, and eyed + her with restrained bitterness. + </p> + <p> + "Doctor,—it is about my Elsie;—she hasn't a + particle of color, and she complains of feeling languid all + the time—" + </p> + <p> + "No wonder!—What do you expect?"—it was the + Doctor's harshest tone. "She is loaded up with + flesh,—she doesn't exercise,—you stuff her. Send + her out with her hoop,—make her drink water,—stop + stuffing her. What she, wants is thinning out." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Elsie</i>!—Why, Doctor, the child eats + <i>nothing</i>,—I have to tempt her all the + time;—and when she goes out she complains of feeling + tired." + </p> + <p> + "Let her complain,—and let her get tired;—it will + do her good. Don't feed her in betweentimes,—and when + you do feed her, give her meat—something that will make + red blood,—not slops, nor sweets, nor dough. There's + nothing in the world the matter with her." He lifted his hat + and strode on up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Maternity, grieved and outraged, stared after him, + speechless, then turned for sympathy in the nearest feminine + eye. + </p> + <p> + "Really, dear,—I think that was almost + <i>vulgar</i>,—as well as unkind," murmured the other + mother at her side. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Vulgar</i>! <i>Unkind</i>! Well, it is the last time he + will have the opportunity to insult me! The idea! + <i>Elsie</i>!—But it's not the first time I have + thought of changing physicians!" (This was true,—but + she never did; the solid Elsie was her only one.) "And such + desperate haste;—he must have a <i>most critical</i> + case!" She cast an indignant glance at the building, as if to + make it an accessory to the fact, and turning a kindling and + interrogative glance upon her companion, encountered one of + profound and scintillating significance. For a moment they + contemplated their discovery breathlessly in each other's + eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Did you ever!" exclaimed number one at last. "Oh, of course + I had heard things,—but I will do myself the justice to + say I <i>never</i> believed a word of it before! <i>This</i>, + of course, makes it plain enough;—this explains + <i>all</i>!" + </p> + <p> + The two—good women, but wounded withal—coruscated + subtle knowledge all down the street. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the Doctor climbed the stairs. He was perfectly + conscious that he had been, in fact, both unkind and rude, + even though his mood did not incline him to take measure of + the extent of his delinquency. He knew equally that he should + presently have to write a note of apology—and that it + would not do an atom of good, <i>Tant pis</i>. He rang at the + door of the daffodil-room, and it was opened by the tall girl + whose eyes had hurt him that morning. They did not hurt him + now, but enveloped him with a keen and soft regard that left + no question unanswered. In another moment she had put out a + firm hand and drawn him over the threshold in its clasp. + </p> + <p> + "Don't speak,—don't try to say a word! There!" She had + taken from him his hat and gloves and pushed forward a low + chair in front of the fire, all in one capable movement. + "What is it? Tea? Coffee? A glass of wine?" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Music</i>!" answered the Doctor, raising two haggard + eyes, with the exhausted air of an animal taking shelter. + </p> + <p> + The girl turned away her own and walked towards the piano, + stopping on the way, however, to push forward a little table + set forth with a steaming tea-urn and cups, matches and a + tray, and to lift to its farther edge a bowl of heavy-scented + violets. Her every motion was full of ministry, as devoid of + fuss. + </p> + <p> + The room was low, broad, and large, and full of books, + flowers, low seats, and leaping firelight. A grand-piano, + piled with music, dominated the whole. The girl seated + herself before it and began to play, with the beautiful, + powerful touch of control. After the first bars, the Doctor's + head sank back upon the cushions of the chair and the + Doctor's hand stole mechanically to the matches. He smoked + and she played—quiet, large music, tranquilly filling + the room: Bach fugues, German Lieder, fragments of weird + northern harmonies, fragments of Beethoven and Schubert, the + Largo of Handel,—and all the time she played she looked + at the man who lay back in the chair, half turned from her, + the cigar drooping from his fingers. There was no sound in + the room but the music and light leaping of little flames in + the fireplace,—no motion but theirs and the pulsing + fingers on the keys. The girl played on and on, till the fire + began to die, and with a sudden sigh the Doctor held up his + hand. Then she rose at once, and going forward, stood as + simply at the side of the fireplace opposite him. She was not + beautiful, but, oh, she was beautiful with health and calm + vigor. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor let his eyes rest on her. + </p> + <p> + "If you knew," he said, with a little, half-apologetic laugh. + </p> + <p> + In her turn she held up one of her long hands. + </p> + <p> + "But I do;—you forget I was there all the morning. And + you pulled him through. As for the rest—" She stooped + suddenly and began to pile together the logs; the Doctor + watched her, noting with a trained and sensitive eye the + muscular ease and grace of the supple arms and + shoulders—like music. "Of course"—she spoke + lightly—"they will kill you some day, among them; + but—it's worth while, isn't it?—and there isn't + much else that is, is there?" Still kneeling, she turned and + looked straight up at him. "Do you know what it was like this + morning—before you came?" + </p> + <p> + The Doctor shook his head. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment, smiling a little. "'Lord, <i>if Thou + hadst been here</i>, our brother had not died!'" she quoted. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor got up quickly from his chair. He knocked the ash + from his cigar and laid it down on the tray. "Well," he said, + lightly, "I must be off." He squared his shoulders and held + out his hand; its grip upon her own trembled very slightly, + but he smiled sunnily. "I'll come back for some more music + some day." + </p> + <p> + "Do," the girl said. She had risen and was smiling too. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor looked about the room wistfully. "Jolly + place,—I don't get up very often, do I?" + </p> + <p> + "Not very." + </p> + <p> + They smiled at each other again, then the girl, turning + abruptly away, walked to the window and came back with a + double handful of yellow flowers. + </p> + <p> + "Will you carry these to your wife? They are the first of the + year." + </p> + <p> + She held the door open for him, and from the little landing + watched him down the stairs. At their turn he glanced up for + a moment, holding his hat raised silently. She waved him a + mute acknowledgment, then going into the room again, closed + the door. + </p> + <p> + The firelight still leaped languidly on the hearth, and on + the half-smoked cigar and pile of ashes in the tray. The girl + stood a moment looking at these things and the chair, then + walked quietly to the piano and sat down before it. But she + did not play again. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the Doctor, an erect and urgent presence in the + dusk, had driven through dim streets and climbed again the + four flights of the morning, to find the hush of heaven + fallen on the house. + </p> + <p> + "I knew <i>you</i> could save him!" said the pale mother + only, lifting blind eyes of worship from the couch. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor laughed, poured her out with his own hands a + sleeping-draught, and sat patiently beside her till she + slept, then stole away, leaving injunctions with the nurse, + established in his absence, to telephone if there came a + crisis—"even," after a moment's hesitation, "in the + night." + </p> + <p> + "Home!"—he gave the order briefly. There were black + circles beneath his eyes, making him look thinner than when + he left the house that morning; he had no distinct + reminiscence of lunch, and he was very tired; but his + shoulders no longer ached, his headache was gone, and his + hands were perfectly steady. + </p> + <p> + Odd bits of music hummed perversely through his head, mixing + themselves up with all things and rippling the air about him + into their own large waves, bearing now and then upon them, + like the insistent iteration of an oratorio chorus, fantastic + fragments—"If Thou hadst been here!—If Thou hadst + been here!" His fingers ached towards the responsive strings, + and pulling out his watch, he made a hasty calculation. There + should be good fifteen minutes, he decided—toilet + allowed for—and he hurried the coachman again and + leaned forward, looking with bright, eager eyes into the + night, and humming to himself. + </p> + <p> + One liveried servant opened the house door, another the + carriage door, and a third relieved him of his hat and coat. + Out of the warmth and brightness his wife advanced to meet + him, a child in either hand, their long curls brushed and + tied with bright ribbons. Her face was filled with tender + solicitude. + </p> + <p> + "You must be worn out;—what a long day you have made! + Would you like the dinner sent in at once, or would you + rather wait? Children, don't hang so on papa; he must be + dreadfully tired. Oh, and there's a man been waiting over an + hour; he simply <i>wouldn't go</i>; but you'll let him come + back to-morrow?—you won't try to see any one else + tonight?" + </p> + <p> + The Doctor hesitated a moment, letting all the warmth and + brightness sink into him, while his hands played with the + soft hair of his little son and daughter. He smiled at his + wife, a bright, tired smile. + </p> + <p> + "Robin," he said, "run down to the carriage; there are some + posies there for mamma—from Miss Graham, + Louise,—you see I did get a moment's rest." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said his wife. She continued to gaze compassionately + at the tired man. After a moment she repeated gently, "And + the dinner, dear—?" + </p> + <p> + "No,—don't wait for me; I'll not be long. Have it + brought in at once, and—send the man into the office, + please." + </p> + <p> + He stooped and kissed the children, and turning away, went + into his office and closed the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="A WORKING BASIS"></a> + <h2> + A WORKING BASIS + </h2> + <h3> + BY ABBY MEGUIRE ROACH + </h3> + <p> + Why she married him her friends wondered at the time. Those + she made later wondered more. Before long she caught herself + wondering. Yes, she had seen it beforehand, more or less. But + she had seen other things as well: he had developed unevenly, + unexpectedly, if logically. There had been common + tastes—which grew obsolete or secondary. As the + momentum of what she believed and hoped of him ran down with + them both, he crystallized into the man he was, and no doubt + virtually had always been. + </p> + <p> + It was bad enough to have to ask for money, but to have it + counted out to you, to be questioned about it like a child, + was worse. + </p> + <p> + "I don't understand," she said in the first months of their + marriage. "Are you afraid I won't be judicious, responsible? + Mightn't you try before judging?" + </p> + <p> + "Judicious? Responsible?" He pinched her cheek. (Judith was + five feet nine and sweetly sober of mien.) "There are no + feminines or diminutives of those words, my dear." + </p> + <p> + She stepped back. "But with more freedom I could manage + better, Sam." + </p> + <p> + "Manage?"—jocularly. "That <i>is</i> your long suit, + isn't it? You feel equal to managing all of us? Could even + give me pointers on the business, eh?" + </p> + <p> + "Why not?" she asked, quietly. + </p> + <p> + Sam, feet apart, hands in pockets, looked her over with the + smile one has for a dignified kitten. "I won't trouble you, + my dear. I manage this family." With his pleasantries a lower + note struck—and jangled. + </p> + <p> + "But that isn't the point. I want—" + </p> + <p> + "Really? You always do. Don't bother to tell me what. If you + got this you'd be wanting something else, so what's the use + of the expense merely to change the object?" He chuckled at + her baffled silence. + </p> + <p> + "I can't answer when you're like that. But—but, Sam! It + isn't fair!" Still she supposed that relevant. + </p> + <p> + However, money was not the chief thing. He could manage. Let + it go. + </p> + <p> + Having properly impressed her, nothing made Sam feel larger + than to bring her a set of pearl-handled knives,—when + she had wanted a dollar for kitchen tins. His extravagances + were not always generosities. Once, after she had turned her + winter-before-last suit and patched new seats into the boy's + flannel drawers, because "times were hard," he bought a brace + of blooded hunting-dogs. + </p> + <p> + Next day she opened an account at a department store. + </p> + <p> + With the promptness of the first of the month and the + sureness of death, the bill came. Sam had expressed himself + unchecked before she turned in the doorway. "If you will go + over it," she said, with all her rehearsal unable, after all, + to imitate his nonchalance, "you will find nothing + unnecessary. I think there is nothing there for the dogs." + </p> + <p> + But her cannon-ball affected him no more than a leaf an + elephant; he did not know he was hit. It was always so. + </p> + <p> + In his cool way, however, Sam had all the cumulative jealousy + of the primitive male for his long primacy. Some weeks later, + when Judith ordered an overcoat for Sam junior sent home on + approval, she found the store had been instructed to give her + no credit. + </p> + <p> + She got out, with burning face and heart, without the + article. Her first impulse was to shrink from a blow. + </p> + <p> + But at table that night she recounted her experience: "The + very courteous gentleman who informed me of your predicament + happened to be a cousin of Mr. Banks, of Head and Banks. + (They supply your grain, I believe?) Mrs. Howe (isn't it R. + E. Howe who is president of the Newcomb Club?) was at my + elbow. The salesgirl has Sam junior's Sunday-school class. + Doubtless it will interest them all to know you are in such + straits you can't clothe your children." + </p> + <p> + Ah? She had touched his vulnerable point? Instantly she was + swept by compunction, by impulses to make amends, to him, to + their love. Their love! That delicate wild thing she kept in + a warm, moist, sheltered place, and forbore to look at for + yellowing leaves. + </p> + <p> + Like the battle of Blenheim, it was a famous victory, but + what good came of it at last? The overcoat came home, to be + sure, with cap and shoes besides. But she was too gallant to + press her advantage. Besides, she still looked for him to + take a hint. + </p> + <p> + He did, after his own fashion. "You ought to see Judith + here," he laughed to a caller, "practising her kindergarten + methods on me." His imperturbability was at once a boast and + a slight. + </p> + <p> + "He doesn't mean it," she apologized, later, protecting + herself by defending him. "You know how men are; the best of + them a bit stupid about some things. They don't mean to hurt + you. You know it, but you can't help crying." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I understand!" (That any one should sympathize with her! + It was not so much her vanity that suffered as her precious + regard for him, her pride in their marriage.) "Nobody minds + little things like that against such devotion and constancy. + Why, he talks of you all the time, Judith; of your style, + your housekeeping. You are his pet boast. He says you can do + more with less than anybody he ever saw." And then Judith + laughed. + </p> + <p> + They were all articles of the creed she herself + repeated—and doubted more and more. Faithful enough. He + never came or went without the customary kiss. When he had + typhoid fever, no one might be near him but her, until her + exhaustion could no longer be concealed, when he fretted + about her—until he fretted himself back into high + temperature and had a relapse. + </p> + <p> + So, run down as she was, she hid it, kept up, went on alone, + adding to the score of her inevitable day of reckoning, after + the old heroic-criminal woman-way. + </p> + <p> + She had begun with ideas of their saving together for a + purpose; but, not allowed to plan, she must use every + opportunity to provide against future stricture; besides, + Sam's arbitrary and unregulated spending made her poor little + economies both futile and unfair. + </p> + <p> + "I know nothing about your business. How can I tell if I + spend too much?" + </p> + <p> + "Make your mind easy; I'll keep you posted," he laughed. + <i>He</i> was not bothering about dangerous ground. + </p> + <p> + "Doubtless,"—dryly. "But if I spend too little?" + </p> + <p> + "Not you." + </p> + <p> + He did mean it! He didn't care! The half-truth fanned the + slow fire growing within her into sudden flame. Judith + turned, stammering over the dammed rush of replies. + </p> + <p> + "My dear, my dear!" he deprecated, amused. "How easily you + lose your temper lately, every time there is a discussion of + expenses! Why excite yourself?" Why, indeed? Anger put her at + a disadvantage, and making her half wrong, half made him + right. "I don't say I particularly blame you, but you see for + yourself you don't keep your balance, and it's mistaken + kindness to tempt any woman's natural feminine weakness for + luxury and display." + </p> + <p> + The retorts were so obvious they were hopeless. She stood + looking at him. + </p> + <p> + His eyebrows lifted; he shrugged his shoulders, went out, and + forgot. + </p> + <p> + Why any of it, indeed? There was no bridge of speech between + alien minds. Their life was a continual game of + cross-questions and silly answers. Their natures were + antipodal; he had the faults that annoyed her most; his + virtues were those least compensating. + </p> + <p> + Was her dream of influencing the children a superstition too, + then? + </p> + <p> + The children! They slipped the house whenever possible; + avoided their father with an almost physical effect of + dodging an expected blow; when with him, watched his mood to + forestall with hasty attention or divert with strained wit, + with timorous hilarity when he proved complaisant. The + possibilities for harm to them were numberless. She and Sam + were losing the children, and the children were losing + everything. + </p> + <p> + For years they had been a physical and mental outlet for her + nature. That love had no question of reciprocity or merit. + She had always been willing for them. Only it seemed to her + all the rest of love should come first. It occurred to her + ironically how happy her marriage would have been without her + husband. + </p> + <p> + What was his love worth? It was only taxation—taxation + without representation. Had either of them any real love + left? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she stood on the brink of black emptiness. To live + without love; her whole nature, every life-habit, changed! + <i>Oh, no, no, no</i>! So the cold water sets the suicide + struggling for shore. + </p> + <p> + Dear, dear! This would not do. Her nerves were getting the + best of her; she was losing her own dignity and + sweetness—was on the verge of a breakdown. + </p> + <p> + But to say so would be to invoke doctors, pointless + questions, futile drugs, and a period of acute affection from + Sam—affection that took the form chiefly of expecting + it of her. + </p> + <p> + At times Judith thought of death as an escape, but she + thought of no other as being any more in her own hands; like + so many people, she quoted the Episcopal marriage-service as + equal authority with the Bible. She was too live to droop and + break as some do. She had not made herself the one armor that + would have been effective—her own shell. Friction that + does not callous, forms a sore. Her love, her utmost self, + ached like an exposed nerve. She had not dreamed one's whole + being could be so alive to suffering. She must be alone, to + get a hand on herself and things again. + </p> + <p> + At table one night she wanted them all to know she was going + away, for several months perhaps, leaving her cousin Anne in + charge. It was all arranged. + </p> + <p> + The amazing innovation surprised Sam into speechlessness. + </p> + <p> + Judith had had few vacations. There had always been the + babies, of course. And Sam's consent had always been so hard + to get. His first impulse about everything was to refuse, + contradict, begrudge. Then certainly he mustn't be too easily + convinced. After that he always moped through her + preparations; counted and recounted the cost, and at the last + perhaps gave her a handsome new bag when her old one was + particularly convenient, and he had supplied only half she + had asked for clothes; would hardly tell her good-by for + desolate devotion; tracked her with letters full of + loneliness, ailments, discomforts. When she had cut short her + plans and hurried back, a bit quiet and unresponsive perhaps, + "How truly gracious your unselfishness is, my dear!" he + observed. "If it comes so hard to show me a little + consideration, you would really better keep doing your own + way." + </p> + <p> + "I never do my own way." + </p> + <p> + "No? Whose then? I fail to recognize the brand." + </p> + <p> + "That's the trouble. I might as well stop trying." + </p> + <p> + Now, she could not delay for, nor endure, the conventional + comedy. + </p> + <p> + Since he asked her no questions, she hastened to explain: "I + want to rest absolutely. Not even to write letters. You need + not bother to, either. Anne will let me know if I am needed. + And if I need anything, you will be sure to hear." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, sure." Sam was recovering. + </p> + <p> + But he couldn't think she would really go, in that way at + least. He thought he knew one good reason why not. Yet, + vaguely on guard against her capacity for surprise, he did + not risk the satire of asking her plans. To the last Judith + hoped he would shame her a little by offering the money; and + against his utter disregard her indignation rose slowly, + steadily, deepening, widening, drowning out every other + feeling for him. + </p> + <p> + When, after their final breakfast, he kissed her good-by as + for the morning only, she took her jewelry and silver, + mementos of his self-indulgence in generosity, and pawned + them, mailing him the tickets from the station where she + piloted herself alone. + </p> + <p> + She spent a month (in her rest-cure!), writing and destroying + letters to him. There was no alternation of moods now. Nor + was she seeking a solution of the problem; there was only + one. + </p> + <p> + At last a letter seemed to do: "It cannot hurt you to read, + as much as me to write. But it must come. I can see now it + has always been coming. Things cannot go on as they are. We + are unable to improve them together. I will cast no blame. + Perhaps some other woman would have called out a different + side of you, or would have minded things less. It is enough + that we do not belong together, because we are we and cannot + change. We are not only ruining each other's + happiness—that is already irrevocable,—we are + ruining each other, and the children, and their futures. It + is a question of the least wrong. And I am not coming back. + </p> + <p> + "I want the children, all of them. But if you insist, you + take Sam junior and I the girls—and the baby, of + course, at least for the present. And you shall provide for + us proportionately. There is no use pretending independence; + I have given my strength and all the accomplishments I had to + you and them. And there is no sense in the mock-heroics that + I don't want your money. It isn't your money; it's ours, + everything we have. I have borne your children, and saved and + kept house and served and nursed for you and them. If you + want to divide equally now, I will take that as my share + forever. But we can't escape the fact that we have been + married and have the children." + </p> + <p> + She could get an answer in two days. + </p> + <p> + But it did not come in two days, nor two weeks, nor three; + while she burned herself out waiting. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, her funds were running low. She had waves of the + nausea of defeat, fevers of the desperation of the last + stand. + </p> + <p> + Then it occurred to her. Her armor had always been defensive. + She had never stooped to neutralize his alkali with acid. But + there was one weapon of offence she occasionally used. She + wrote: "I am drawing on you to-day through your First + National for a hundred and fifty. You will honor it, I think. + And if I do not hear from you in a day or two I shall have + Judge Harwood call on you as my attorney." + </p> + <p> + The answer came promptly enough:—"My dear child, I + couldn't make out what had struck you, so I hoped you would + just feel better after blowing off steam and would get over + your fit of nerves. Besides, I have nothing to say except to + quote yourself: 'We can't escape the fact that we are married + and have the children.' I know you too well to be afraid of + your throwing off all obligations like that. It is impossible + to fancy you airing our privacies." Bait? or a goad? Oh yes, + he counted on her "womanly qualities"—but with no idea + of masculine emulation! "If you need advice, think what + either of our mothers would say." Her mother! Judith could + hear her, "His doing wrong cannot make it right for you to," + with logic so unanswerable one forgot to question its + relevance. And his! Judith held her partly accountable; some + women absolutely fostered tyranny. Their mothers, poor + things! Occasionally their fathers were different, but so + occasionally that now the times were. "This sudden mood + strikes me as very remarkable. 'After all I have + done—twelve years of grind to keep you from the brunt + of the world; and now...! My dear child, do you realize that + there are husbands with violent tempers, husbands who drink + and gamble and worse? + </p> + <p> + "I honored your draft. Do not try it again. And I advise you + to use it to come home. We will have Dr. Hunter give you a + tonic, and you will find you have fewer morbid fancies + occupied with your duties. I shall look for you the end of + the week." Surely Sam was moved quite out of himself, that he + had no lashes of laughter for her. But the next was more in + character: "Bridget threatens to leave. She does not work + well under Anne. The children are not manageable under her, + either. Little Judith is sallow and fretful. I suspect Anne + gives her sweets between meals. I saw a moth flying in my + closet to-day...." + </p> + <p> + Judith pushed the letter away, fidgeted, yet smiled. How well + they knew each other. And they used it only to sting and + bully! Surely it could be put to better purpose. Had she + tried <i>everything</i>? Had Sam fully understood? Sometimes + she thought her early excuses had hurt too much for her to + admit their truth: much of his unkindness was not + intentional, only stupid; slow sympathy, dull sensibility; he + did not suffer, nor comprehend, like a savage or a child. If + the possibility of separation was new to her, would not he + never have thought of it at all? But now, might he not see? + Was not his unwonted self-defence itself admission of new + enlightenment and approachability? + </p> + <p> + She sat long in the increasing dusk. Exhausted with struggle, + loneliness was on her, crying need of the children, return to + the consideration of many things. Admitting that at times it + was right to break everything, wrong not to, it was at least + the last resort. Love, of course, was over irrevocably; but + were there not some things worth saving? Could not she and + Sam find some working basis? + </p> + <p> + What had made their being together most intolerable to her + was their persistence in the religion of a vanished god in + whose empty ceremonies alone they could now take part + together. Of the sacred image nothing was left but the feet + of clay. Freed of that desecration, she could cure or endure + everything else; her obligations, moreover, would hardly + conflict at all. + </p> + <p> + Looking back at the pressures of nature, society, events, + Sam's persistence, she wondered at times if, from the + beginning, she had been any more responsible for her marriage + than for the color of her hair. There were many such + explanations for Sam, too. Not that they made her like him + any better, feel him any more akin. But it was true that + between the fatalities of heredity and environment that + "slight particular difference" that makes the self had but + short tether for action and reaction. Oh, she could be + generous enough to him if he did not have to be part of + herself! + </p> + <p> + She got up, lit the gas, shutting out the stars, and wrote: + "I am coming back to make one more and one last effort. + <i>Won't you</i>?" If he would only try! + </p> + <p> + Sam met her with the magnanimity of forgiveness, the + consciousness of kind forgetting. Her redeemed valuables were + all in place. Everything should be the same, in spite + of—And she put the back of her hand against his lips! + </p> + <p> + When he dressed for dinner the salvage of the three balls, + the spoils of war, were piled in his bureau drawer. + </p> + <p> + Still he hoped better for the roses by her plate. She had the + maid carry them out, explaining in her absence, "No gifts, + please, Sam. Substitutes will not do any longer." + </p> + <p> + Sam played with his fork, smiling, with lips only. How + shockingly she showed suffering. Separation had made her + appearance unfamiliar; he thought the change all recent. He + took pains to compliment the immediate improvement in the + pastry, to give her the servants' money unreminded as soon as + they were alone. + </p> + <p> + How characteristic! Judith thought, wearily, letting the + bills lie where he laid them. + </p> + <p> + "That's one of the things for us to settle, Sam," she said, + in her new freedom and self-respect discarding the familiar + little diplomacies by which she was used to soothe, prepare, + manage, the lord of the hearth. "I am not going to ask for + money in the future, nor depend on what you happen to give." + The manner was a simple statement of fact. "You must make me + an allowance through your bookkeeper." + </p> + <p> + Sam was lounging through his cigar. "So that's it? Still?" He + smiled confidentially at the smoke, puffing it from his lower + lip. "As accurately as I can recollect, my dear, I have told + you seven thousand and three times that I am not on a salary, + and don't know from month to month what I will make." + </p> + <p> + How unchanged everything was! Her determination stiffened. + "But you know what you have made. Base it on the year before. + Or have a written statement mailed me every month, and file + my signature at the bank." + </p> + <p> + Not quite unchanged; for Sam took the cigar from his mouth + and turned slowly to look at her. If he had taken her return + for capitulation and had met it according to his code, things + were not fitting in. "Really, my dear! Really! What next? + Evidently I have never done you justice; you have positive + genius in the game—of monopoly; first thing, + <i>I'll</i> be begging from <i>you</i>." + </p> + <p> + Well, why not, as fairly? and why should he think better of + her than of himself? But it was too old to go over again. For + a breath she waited to see her further way. She had not + planned this as the issue, but the moment was obviously + crucial, and offered what, in international politics already + awry, would constitute a good technical opportunity. If her + mirage of regeneration, her hope of an understanding, perhaps + even her love, had flung up any last afterglow in this + home-coming, it was over now. Indeed, now it seemed an old + grief, the present but confirmation concerning a lover ten + years lost at sea. She saw the whole man now clearly, the + balance of her accusations and excuses; he had neither the + modern spirit of equality, nor the medieval quixotism of + honor and chivalry; appeal merely stirred the elemental + tyranny of strength and masculinity, held as a "divine + right"; weakness tempted an instinctive cruelty, half + unconscious, half defiant. + </p> + <p> + It was Sam who spoke first, abruptly, not laughing. Sam who + was never angry, was angry now. "I never have understood you + in some ways. How a woman like you can forever bring money + between us! How you got tainted with this modern female + anarchy! You seem to forget that <i>I</i> made the money, it + is <i>mine</i>. There is bound to be discussion; I never knew + any one so determined to have everything his own way. All the + same," the defence rested its case, "it takes two to quarrel, + and I won't." + </p> + <p> + No, his defence was only admission of conscious weakness. He + was afraid—of the solution she had discarded. She did + not go back to it now. But now she saw the way, the only way, + to accomplish reconstruction. + </p> + <p> + Judith looked at him steadily. Her voice was deadly quiet. "I + am sure I have made myself quite plain. We will never discuss + this again. You can let me know in the morning which + arrangement you choose." + </p> + <p> + They faced each other with level eyes. + </p> + <p> + And Sam's shifted. + </p> + <p> + He never had real nerve, she realized; they didn't—that + kind. How had she managed to love him so long? + </p> + <p> + Late that night he knocked at her door with a formal + proposition: Would that do?—dumbly. She changed a point + or two: <i>That</i> would do, and signified good night. Sam, + looking at her face, turned away from it, hesitated, turned + back, broke. Fear increased his admiration, and, to do him + justice, the fear was not wholly for conventions and + comforts; the man had certain broad moralities and loyalties. + A reflex muscular action had set in to regain what he had + lost. "Judith! Judith!" he begged. + </p> + <p> + Her raised hand stopped him. "You are too late, Sam." + </p> + <p> + "My dear, you mustn't get the idea that I don't love you + still." + </p> + <p> + "Love has nothing to do with it any more. Besides, it is + never any use to talk of love without justice." + </p> + <p> + He went out, dazed and aggrieved. He had always thought they + got along as well as most people. <i>He</i> had not been + cherishing grudges. + </p> + <p> + Womanlike, having met the emergency gallantly, after it was + all over Judith collapsed. The day of reckoning for which she + had so long been running up an account was on her. But the + growing assurance rallied her, that her going away and her + coming back were equally means to her success in failure. + </p> + <p> + The reality of their marriage could not have been saved. But + they had the children; and to the children was restored much + of what their father had largely spoiled in the first place, + and she nearly forfeited in the second. For the fact was that + Sam did better; the despot is always a moral coward, and + always something of the slave to a master. Moreover, her + growing invulnerability to hurt through him set, in large + measure, the attitude of the household; everybody was more + comfortable. She discounted his opinions and complaints; but, + in considering the welfare of the greatest number, she + sacrificed as little as possible his individual comforts. His + interests she studied. And for the rest, she let him go his + way and went hers. + </p> + <p> + Life is a perfect equation: if something is added or + subtracted, something is subtracted or added, so long as + there <i>is</i> life. Judith got her poise again in time, as + strong natures do after any death; with some fibres weakened + past mending, gray, but calm. If his side of her nature was + stunted, she seemed to blossom all the more richly in other + ways. She loved her children in proportion as she had + suffered and worked for them. After her domestic years, like + so many women, she took fresh start, physically and mentally. + Her executive ability found public outlet. She could admit + friends again. Freedom from the corrosion of antagonism was + happiness. Without the struggle to keep that love which must + ask so much of its object, she could give Sam more of that + altruism which asks nothing. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="THE GLASS DOOR"></a> + <h2> + THE GLASS DOOR + </h2> + <h3> + BY MARY TRACY EARLE + </h3> + <p> + Charlotte and Emory Blake lived at the old Blake place, on + the little plateau at the foot of the Colton hill, in a + vine-covered stone cottage. The place had belonged to old + George Blake. When it came into Emory's hands he sold it to + Uncle Billy Kerr, and used the money for a course in a school + of pharmacy. Later, Charlotte, who was then Charlotte + Hastings, bought it, and, after her marriage, finished paying + for it out of its own products, while her husband talked + politics or played chess in his drug-store. It was said that + when Blake was doing either of these things he was as likely + as not to keep a customer standing a half-hour before waiting + on him,—and this not so much out of interest in his + discussion or his game as from complete lack of interest in + the business of selling drugs. + </p> + <p> + North Pass correctly interpreted this general nonchalance of + Blake's as a sign that he was an unwilling partner in the + matrimonial venture he had undertaken. Indeed, it was known + that the engagement had hung fire for years through no fault + of Charlotte's, and everybody had noticed that such mildly + loverlike enthusiasm for her society as Blake had shown + before he went to the school of pharmacy had disappeared from + his manner when he returned. Charlotte had told people that + they should marry as soon as he came home, yet the wedding + did not come off for two years. During this time it was + noticed that although she held her head high and was fertile + in good reasons for the delay, her girlish look left her, her + features sharpened, and her speech developed an acid + reaction; it was at this time, too, that she bargained with + Uncle Billy Kerr for the old Blake place, and also borrowed + money from the old man to put up a new house. When people saw + the house going up it was generally supposed that she was + preparing either to rent it or to live in it as an old maid; + but when it was completed, to the surprise of every one, + Charlotte and Blake were married and moved in. + </p> + <p> + The morning after the wedding Blake was in his drug-store + playing chess as languidly as ever, but Charlotte spent her + whole day planting a vegetable-garden, in a mood of + unreckoning exaltation such as rarely comes to a woman of her + nature, and never comes to her but once. She had felt no such + blissful security when Blake and she were first engaged. + Blake was weak. She had felt it intensely even when her + infatuation for him was too fresh to permit her to reason, + and a weak man while unmarried is peculiarly liable to + changes of affection. But, on the other hand, a weak man once + safely married is completely in the power of his wife; during + the last two years of their engagement certain illusions + regarding herself and Blake had fallen from her eyes; she had + stated both those facts plainly to herself, and they had + helped her to decide upon a course of action. There had been + moments when she had despised herself for using her stronger + will to coerce Blake into the fulfilment of his engagement, + but on the morning after the wedding these moments were + forgotten, and, as she hoed and raked and planted in the + brisk air and the bright spring sunshine, her whole existence + seemed uplifted by the knowledge that she and Blake at last + belonged unquestionably to each other; that every output of + her strength was for their common comfort, and would continue + to be as long as they both should live. + </p> + <p> + As the first year of married life goes, Charlotte's first + year was fairly successful. She knew Blake's faults already, + and had made up her mind to them, and if there was a frank + indifference in his quiet languor, she had made up her mind + to that, too. He was never unkind, and there were times when + some fresh evidence of her devotion to him would touch him + into an appreciation that was almost responsive. And there + were other times when she would find him looking at her with + an expression which any other observer might have classed as + pity, but which she counted as tenderness. On the whole, it + seemed to her that time was bringing them together, as she + had counted that it would, and with this hope her face lost + its sharp outlines. + </p> + <p> + Her first heavy chagrin was at the time of her baby's birth. + When Blake came into the room to inquire for her, and she + turned down the bed-cover to show him the little bundle at + her side, a look of pain and aversion flashed across his + face, and he moved away, begging her not to show the baby to + him until it was older. On another day she tried to make him + select a name for it, and he refused. + </p> + <p> + "Call it anything you please," he said at first, but she + would not let him go at that. + </p> + <p> + "I've been thinking," she suggested, with a hesitation that + was foreign to her,—"I've been thinking of calling her + for your mother—Dorcas." + </p> + <p> + They were alone in the room, and he was sitting by her bed, + but looking away from her into the corner of the room, while + she looked anxiously at him. At her words he started, + flashing a keen glance at her. "Why should we name her that?" + he asked. + </p> + <p> + There was something so sharply disturbed in his manner, and + his distaste for the idea was so evident, that Charlotte + flushed in extreme embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + "I thought you might like to," she explained. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I wouldn't,—I—I don't think the name's + pretty in itself," he declared; adding, with a great effort + to speak naturally, "I'd rather name her for you." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte's lips came together so closely that all the + unpleasant lines showed around them. "I certainly shall not + name her for myself," she said. "You must think of some other + name." + </p> + <p> + Blake got to his feet. "That's the only one I can think of," + he said. "If you don't like it, you can take some other. It's + your affair, not mine." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte's eyes flashed and then filled with tears, for she + was very weak. "If I were asking you to father some other + man's child, you couldn't act more as if you despised me," + she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + He turned as he was leaving the room and gave her a long look + full of exasperation, repugnance, and despair. "You are quite + mistaken," he said. "I don't despise you. I despise myself." + </p> + <p> + For half an hour Charlotte sobbed, her hands clenched at her + sides, her tears flowing unchecked; then, quite suddenly, she + was calm, and, drying her disfigured face, she began to take + account of stock. All that she had before, she reasoned, she + still had. The gains of a year might seem to be lost in the + outbreak of a moment, yet they still existed as a solid + foundation to build upon. There would be constraint at first, + but the effort of daily patience would overcome it in time; + moreover, there was the baby. Blake might refuse to look at + her now, but as she grew and acquired the irresistible graces + of a healthy babyhood he would be obliged to see and to yield + to her. A man of his nature could not live in the house with + a child and not love it. She touched the small form at her + side, as if to assure herself that this ally which she had so + suffered for had not deserted her. Yes, she had more hope now + than ever before, she told herself, and her eyes shone with a + passionate tenderness, though her lips were set in a hard + line. Suddenly the line broke into a smile. + </p> + <p> + "I'll name her Hope," she said. + </p> + <p> + When Hope was two months old she began her mission, and when + she had reached six months Blake was vying with Charlotte in + his devotion to her. He even plucked up a little interest in + his business; sometimes he talked over his place with his + wife, and the words which had passed between them over the + naming of the child, though unforgotten, seemed so far in the + past that Charlotte's courage strengthened with each day. The + sense of security which had marked the first months of her + married life did not return, but she could feel herself + making a strong fight against fate to hold what she had, and, + if she were never entirely certain of the issue, at least she + fought with the obstinacy which has no knowledge of yielding. + Sometimes even her love for Blake seemed to lose itself in + this obstinacy, and her tenderness towards her child seemed + the only womanly sentiment left in her; but more often her + love for her husband mounted high and unmixed above the other + feelings as the tremendous, inexplicable passion of her life. + </p> + <p> + Hope's attainment of six months was marked by an unusual + display of energy on the part of Blake. The first cold + weather of autumn had come, and when the house doors were + closed, Charlotte was surprised to hear her husband declare + that the sitting-room, where the baby would spend most of her + time in winter, was poorly lighted, and needed to have a + glass door substituted for the wooden one which opened on to + the front porch. Still more to her surprise, the door was + delivered from an adjoining town the next day, and on the + following morning Blake rose earlier than usual and hung it + before going down to his store. It was the first time he had + lifted his hand towards the improvement of Charlotte's house. + </p> + <p> + He whistled boyishly while he measured and fitted in the + hinges, and when it came to holding the door while the hinges + were screwed in place, he called to Charlotte. She came, with + lips as usual closed very tight, but with cheeks flushed very + pink, and when the work was finished she was so atremble that + she had to sit down for a moment before she could put + breakfast on the table. + </p> + <p> + To give a reason for the delay, she kept looking at the door. + "The room, is perfect now," she said. + </p> + <p> + Blake swung the new acquisition back and forth, and latched + it once or twice to make sure that it was perfectly adjusted. + When he was satisfied he glanced at his wife. + </p> + <p> + "It will give our baby the sunlight," he said, and their eyes + met for a moment. + </p> + <p> + All that day, whenever Charlotte could bring her work into + the sitting-room, she sat facing the glass door. She was not + exactly happy; she was too strangely excited for happiness; + but she was keenly awakened and alert. Every nerve in her + seemed keyed up to its ultimate tension, and if the shadow of + a cloud passed, even if a red leaf fell outside, she looked + out expectantly through the door. + </p> + <p> + It was middle afternoon when, on looking up, she saw a young + woman crossing the porch, leading a little child. Charlotte + jumped to her feet, then reseated herself and waited for the + tap on the glass. The visitors were strangers to her, and + though she could not have told why, as she sat staring at + them through the door, her mouth suddenly set into the lines + of indomitable obstinacy which had grown so deep around it in + the past three years. When she finally crossed the room to + open the door, she walked slowly and deliberately, as if she + had some definite purpose in mind and meant to accomplish it. + </p> + <p> + The woman on the outside was the first to speak. "Does Mr. + Emory Blake live here?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + "He does. I am his wife. What can I do for you?" asked + Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + The woman gave a little cry and drew back. "Oh no!" she said, + breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte stood, white and stiff and silent, while the other + looked about her in a despairing helplessness. She was a + frail-looking woman, worn with fatigue and the excited + emotions with which timidity spurs itself to action. She + looked as if she longed to sit down somewhere, and as if + perhaps she could have more courage seated, but Charlotte + made no motion to invite her to enter. After a while the + newcomer brought her frightened eyes back to the set face in + the doorway. + </p> + <p> + "I am so sorry for you," she said, timidly. "I am his wife." + </p> + <p> + A shiver of resentment ran convulsively through Charlotte's + muscles. "You can be sorry for yourself," she said, roughly. + </p> + <p> + "But he married me while he was at the school of pharmacy," + the other cried, weakly. "I was Nettie Trent. I clerked, and + I boarded where he did, and we fell in love and married. He + told me about you. You are Charlotte Hastings, aren't you, + that wanted to marry him before he left home?" + </p> + <p> + Charlotte moved her dry lips soundlessly once or twice before + she could speak. Then her masterful spirit rose to a new + task. She drew herself up and looked down gravely, almost + compassionately, upon the woman who had been Nettie Trent. + </p> + <p> + "I was Charlotte Hastings before my marriage," she said. "I + am sorry to be the one to hurt you, but you have been cruelly + treated. I was married to Emory Blake before he left home for + the school." + </p> + <p> + The smaller woman gave a little gasp and stood silent, while + Charlotte, with the fire in her veins scorching her cheeks + and eyes and almost smothering her breath, waited for her to + offer some resistance, to assert her own claim, or to ask for + proof of the statement which denied it; but Nettie said + nothing, and after a moment her gaze dropped from Charlotte's + and she began to sob. Charlotte took her by the hand and led + her into the room. + </p> + <p> + Neither of them spoke for a long time. Nettie sat with her + face buried in her hands. On one side her child tugged at her + dress; on the other, little Hope slept in her cradle. + Charlotte stood pale and tall, watching all three. + </p> + <p> + At last Nettie looked up. "I suppose you think I ought to + hate him—now I've found out," she said, "but I don't; I + just can't. When we were together he was so sweet to me. I + don't think he meant to harm me. He must have thought it + would come out all right somehow." + </p> + <p> + "If I were in your place," Charlotte said, slowly, "I should + hate him." + </p> + <p> + Nettie wiped her eyes and drew her child up into her arms. + "But what he did was almost as bad for you as it was for me," + she urged, "and you don't hate him." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte turned suddenly and walked to her own baby's + cradle. "Oh, I don't know," she said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + After a moment she came back and sat down. "I must ask you + some questions," she said, gravely. "Is this your only + child?" + </p> + <p> + The young woman nodded. Her lips were quivering. "Named + Dorcas," she said, brokenly,—"for his mother." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte flushed and the lines about her lips deepened. + "Does he—provide for you?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + The other nodded once more. "He sends me money once in a + while. I wrote him not to worry when he didn't have it. I'm + clerking again." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte made no comment. She was thinking how strange it + was that this other woman, who was a frail, poor-spirited + thing, should be ready to support herself and child out of + love for Blake. In Charlotte's mind, which was pitilessly + clear and active, there was room for a passing wonder at the + mysterious power which so weak a man could exert over women, + even without his will. She was wondering, too, if her own + passion for him would ever rise again. At present she was far + from loving him; she felt only a bitter resentment, a desire + to punish him by holding to him, and a towering obstinacy and + pride which refused to be set at fault and put to shame. + While she was boldly examining and analyzing herself she + glanced at the clock to see how long before he could possibly + return; the time was ample, and she continued to sit silent. + Presently her baby woke, and she rose and went to it. + </p> + <p> + As she lifted it from its cradle, Nettie started up and came + towards her. Hope hid her face against her mother's neck, but + after an instant turned shyly to steal a glance at the + stranger. + </p> + <p> + Nettie sat down again, trembling. "Your baby is like him," + she said. + </p> + <p> + "Very like him," Charlotte answered, and as the baby nestled + up to her again, she dropped her cheek against it and tears + came into her eyes—scalding tears that seemed to sear + their way up from the depths of her heart. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the other wife leaned forward, eagerly suspicious. + "You have no other children—<i>older</i>?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte looked round blankly, her eyes still wet. + "<i>Other</i> children?" she echoed, but Nettie's sharpened + face brought her to herself. She wiped her eyes on Hope's + dress. "I lost—a child," she said. + </p> + <p> + "Oh," Nettie murmured, "I'm sorry I asked you. It was older + than Dorcas?" + </p> + <p> + Charlotte stood at bay, with her child strained close to her. + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" Nettie murmured again, in a shaken voice. She looked at + Charlotte in despairing envy. "What is this baby named?" she + asked. + </p> + <p> + "This one," Charlotte answered, "we call Hope." + </p> + <p> + She seated herself and began trotting the child to a slow + measure. There were still a few questions which she wished to + ask, but the other's simple acceptance of all she said + inspired her with cool deliberation. There was plenty of + time, and she wished to make no mistake. She must be sure of + her own safety, and after that she must do anything she could + for the comfort of the other woman. It would probably be very + little. + </p> + <p> + "How did you get here?" she inquired, finally. "You must have + asked somebody where Mr. Blake lived." + </p> + <p> + "No, I didn't have to ask. He'd written me he was boarding + with a woman that lived on his old place," Nettie said, "and + I knew where that was because he'd often told me all about + where he grew up and just the road he used to take from the + station to the house, and I remembered every word of it. I + didn't like to go to him at his store for fear there would be + loafers around, so I came right to his house. I thought I + wouldn't mind telling the woman that I was his wife, if she + asked me any questions while I waited for him." + </p> + <p> + "You were very wise," Charlotte said, dryly. + </p> + <p> + Nettie settled back in her chair, rocking her little girl, + who had grown restless and impatient, and as she rocked she + began to pour out her heart. "You must think queer of me to + sit down here with you like this and not to be in a rush to + go," she began, "but I feel like I've got to sit still + and—and kind of get my breath before I can start out. + I've been so afraid of it that it doesn't seem like I ought + to be surprised, but I tell you it pretty near kills me now I + know it for sure." She paused and stroked a stray lock of + hair away from her child's eyes. "My baby's like him, too," + she said, irrelevantly. "My baby's just as like him as yours + is." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte glanced again at the clock. "How do your friends + treat you?" she asked, abruptly. "Do they believe you were + really married or not?" + </p> + <p> + A bright flush sprang over Nettie's face. "They believed it + at first, of course, just the way I did," she answered, + quickly, "but lately they've been suspecting something. It + was what they said made me get uneasy. I don't distrust folks + right quick myself." + </p> + <p> + "And none of them tried to make inquiries for + you?"—Charlotte put the question seriously, all her + nerves tight strung. + </p> + <p> + "Oh no," Nettie said. "I don't have any family or any friends + close enough to me to take trouble like that." + </p> + <p> + "And I presume you're glad now that they didn't," Charlotte + said. "In your place I'd rather find it out for myself." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I'd much rather," Nettie answered. "I couldn't have + stood having other people find it out, and I'm not going to + give anybody that knows me a chance to find out now. You see, + I've been afraid of this so long that I've had time to make + my plans and to save up money a little. Before I came here I + gave up my place and told folks I was going to join Mr. + Blake; so I'll not go back. I'll go to New York and get work + there." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte looked at her keenly. "I suppose you're depending + on Mr. Blake to help you?" she said. + </p> + <p> + Again the color sprang into Nettie's face. "Oh no, ma'am," + she answered. "I couldn't let him help me now. I did wrong to + live with him, but I didn't know he was married, so I don't + feel like one of that kind of women; but if I was to take + money from him now, I—I shouldn't feel that I was + raising my child honest." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte lifted her baby so that it hid her face. "For him + to help you would only be right," she said, from its shelter. + "He owes you—money, at least." + </p> + <p> + The other shook her head. "I couldn't bear it," she said, + chokingly. "Oh, you can't understand—nobody could + understand unless she'd been through what I have, being left + before my baby came, and having people ask me close + questions, and then, little by little, losing my own faith. + You can't see why, but if I was to take money from him now, + it would make me feel my shame, and I don't want to,—I + want to feel honest." + </p> + <p> + Charlotte lowered Hope to her knee. "Perhaps I can understand + that—in a way," she said, with twitching lips. + </p> + <p> + Nettie looked into her face with a helpless, childish + perception of the suffering shown in its drawn lines. "You're + so good to me—I believe you feel 'most as bad as I do," + she declared; "and if I were you, I wouldn't say a word to + anybody about my having been here. Nobody knows it. I didn't + have to ask my way. There aren't many women would treat me + the way you do, and I won't stay here any longer making you + feel bad." She rose, still holding her heavy child in her + arms. "There isn't anything more we've got to say to each + other, is there?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + "Wait a moment," Charlotte said. She, too, rose, and as she + stood looking at the other woman, so much smaller, so much + weaker, so blindly trustful, and so patient, her heart, which + had sunk in shame, rose suddenly in pity; at that moment if + she had opened her lips the truth would have escaped from + them, but her stubborn will held her lips closed. + </p> + <p> + Nettie eyed her with troubled uncertainty, but after a moment + moved towards the door. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I must go," she declared. + </p> + <p> + "Wait a moment," Charlotte said again. Her voice was so dry + and strange that after she had spoken she paused to moisten + her lips. Her limbs trembled, and in the glass door which she + had opened against the wall she could see the ashen whiteness + of her face. + </p> + <p> + Nettie turned, and the two women confronted each other, each + holding her child. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte put a hand up to her throat. "I have money I could + give you," she offered. "Not his, my own." + </p> + <p> + The other shook her head. "Oh, I couldn't," she exclaimed. + "Anyway, I don't need it. I've saved up a good deal. And + you've done better than give me money; you've been kind to + me." She put out her hand with a little appealing gesture and + took Charlotte's, which lay cold in it. + </p> + <p> + "You'd better go," Charlotte broke out. "You'll meet him + coming home if you wait any longer. Here; I'll tell you how + to go a roundabout way." + </p> + <p> + She walked out on to the piazza and led the way down the + steps and round to the back of the house, where she stood + giving short, sharp directions, when across her hurried words + came Blake's voice calling from the front: + </p> + <p> + "Charlotte! Charlotte! Where are you and Hope?" + </p> + <p> + For the first time since they had lived together Blake had + come home before his hour. + </p> + <p> + The two women looked at each other. Charlotte pointed to the + path which hid itself quickly in the shelter of an orchard. + "Run," she whispered. "I'll keep him in the house." + </p> + <p> + But Nettie stood as if paralyzed, her eyes widening and + filling with tears. "Oh, you've been so good—mayn't I + see him—mayn't I bid him good-by?" she begged. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte lifted her voice to answer Blake. "Yes, Emory; stay + where you are; I'm bringing Hope," she called. "Hurry!" she + whispered to the other woman. "It won't do you any good to + see him. Think of what he's done. Hurry, I say!" + </p> + <p> + Nettie put her hand up to her head. "I—I can't," she + murmured. She swayed a little, and before Charlotte could + reach out to catch her she had slipped to the ground. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Blake came out of the back door of the + house. For an instant he stared in bewilderment. Then he was + at Nettie's side and had lifted her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte saw his face as he kissed her. A moment later she + was indoors on her knees beside her bed, with her face buried + in the cover and her hands clutching it. + </p> + <p> + A cold wind swept through the house. Front and back the doors + stood open. The sun was already low in the west and the + evening promised to be chill. Presently Charlotte rose. She + closed the front door carefully, wrapped Hope in a cloak, + and, with her child on her arm, passed out at the back. + </p> + <p> + Blake had stretched his wife on the back porch and was + bending over her. He looked up, and at sight of Charlotte's + face he straightened himself. + </p> + <p> + She paused an instant. "I'm starting to harness the horse," + she said. "You can catch the night train at Antioch if I + drive fast." + </p> + <p> + He stood silent, his face working. It was as if strength were + being born in him to say something in his own defence. + </p> + <p> + "She has plans," Charlotte added. "You'd better pick up some + of your things in the house." + </p> + <p> + She passed on, and laying Hope in the bottom of the wagon, + harnessed the horse with swift, shaking hands. The sun was + out of sight when she drove back to the house. Nettie sat on + the steps staring dazedly around her. Blake was not in sight. + </p> + <p> + "Are you ready?" Charlotte called. + </p> + <p> + He came out, carrying an old handbag. At the step he + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + She pointed to the back seat, where he was to sit with Nettie + and the child, and after an instant he helped them in. + </p> + <p> + The ride was long and cold. Night fell, and the stars came + out in remote, hostile legions. The children slept. + Occasionally Nettie and Blake advised together in hushed + voices. Charlotte whipped the horse. + </p> + <p> + As they drew near to the end of their journey Blake leaned + forward and touched her arm. + </p> + <p> + "What about the store?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte broke her long silence harshly. "Your stock will + cover what you owe on it, I guess." + </p> + <p> + At the station she stayed in the wagon. Blake took his wife + and Dorcas into the waiting-room and came back for his bag. + Charlotte had it ready for him, resting on the wheel. + </p> + <p> + He did not offer to take it at first, but stood in the beam + from the station window, trying to speak. + </p> + <p> + "Well?" she said. + </p> + <p> + "I guess there's not much I can say," he choked out. + </p> + <p> + For a long time she made no answer. Then her breath came with + an unexpected gasp. "It wasn't your fault—I made you do + it." For a moment more they were silent. Then she shifted the + sleeping baby towards him. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you want to kiss her?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + He bent his face to the child with a sudden passionate + tenderness. As he looked up, his wet eyes met Charlotte's, + which were full of tears. + </p> + <p> + She put out her hand to him. "I guess I've been hard on you," + she said. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="ELIZABETH AND DAVIE"></a> + <h2> + ELIZABETH AND DAVIE + </h2> + <h3> + BY MURIEL CAMPBELL DYAR + </h3> + <p> + When the town doctor, coming out to Turkey Ridge, had given + as his verdict that Elizabeth's one chance of life—he + could not say how slim the chance in that plain room, having + within it the pleasant noise of bees and the spring sun on + the floor—lay in her going to the great hospital in the + city, it was Davie who fell to sobbing in his worn hands. + </p> + <p> + "I'll jest die at home, Davie," she said in her quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + "You'll take the money put away for our buryin' an' go, + dearie!" Davie cried out fiercely. His gaunt frame, stooped + as a scholar's, shook so pitifully with his grief, she had + not the heart to gainsay him, but after she promised him it + only shook the more. + </p> + <p> + "Why, Davie," she chided, brightly, "ain't I always been + a-wantin' to see the city streets with the hurryin' people, + 'n' tall houses, 'n' churches with towers on 'em? They ain't + many folks on th' Ridge'll hev sech a lettin'-out as mine." + </p> + <p> + "If I only had 'nough saved to go too," he mourned. + </p> + <p> + She answered him simply: "An' who'd I hev to write to me, + with you goin' 'long? It'll seem terrible nice to hear from + somebody. I always did love letters. Sence Cousin Tabby died + I ain't had one." + </p> + <p> + "You won't be afeard travellin' so far by yourself?" he asked + then, awestruck. Davie had the diffidence of the untravelled. + Few men ever left the small farming district of Turkey Ridge + for a journey; but if one did so, and the trip were long, he + had thereafter a bolder bearing. + </p> + <p> + "Afeard?" She gave a little trembling laugh which would have + deceived no one but a dull old man, now smitten suddenly by + sorrow. "The idee o' my bein' afeard! They ain't a mite o' + danger o' gettin' run over er lost er nothin'—not a + mite." + </p> + <p> + Under the pretext of bending to hunt for a lost pin she hid + the sad fear in her eyes—a fear of all the greater + world which was beyond Davie, from whom she had not been + parted since her marriage. + </p> + <p> + But throughout the time of her preparation she went bravely. + She would herself have put in order for leaving the house + kept spotless even while her disease had crept upon her, but + the news of the doctor's words had gone up through the group + of farmhouses, huddled like timid sheep on the road, and the + kindly neighbor women left their own work, very heavy in the + spring-time, to take her household burdens. In a community + where no great things ever came save two, and these two birth + and death, misfortune drew soul to soul. Because of her + gathering weakness she yielded that others should do the + tasks which had always hitherto been hers, but she could not + be prevented from the packing of the little leather trunk + that had held her wedding things. "You're jest makin' me out + a foolish, lazy body," she said, her lips seen quivering for + the first time. Then, fearful lest she should seem ungrateful + for the kindness of her friends, she made haste to ask where, + in the trunk, to put her staid, coarse linen, and where her + best cap with its fine bow of lavender ribbon, and would they + if they were she take her mending-basket along in hopes there + might be moments for Davie's socks? + </p> + <p> + Many a loving offering was tucked in with her belongings to + go with her. Now blue-eyed Annie Todd knocked at the door, + bringing a bunch of healing herbs from her mother, who could + not leave for reason of her nursing baby. Then old Mr. Bayne + drove into the dooryard with a pair of knitted bedroom + slippers, wrapped carefully in a newspaper. Next + Kerrenhappuch Green, perturbed in his long jaw, pottered down + to fetch the pinball which his daughter had forgotten when + she came to help. Mrs. Glegg, who had lately lost her idiot + son, Benje, gave a roll of soft flannel. Miss Panthea Potter + contributed a jar of currant jam, three years sealed, and + pretended that she was not moved. The minister copied out a + verse from the Psalms and fixed it so cunningly about a gold + piece that, proud as a girl in her poverty, Elizabeth could + not refuse the gentle gift. It was he, too, possessing the + advantage of a clerkly hand, who arranged for Elizabeth's + admission to the free ward of the hospital, and wrote to his + niece Mary, living by good fortune in the city, to have a + care over her while there. He told that Mary had a kind, + good-humored face, and was herself country born. + </p> + <p> + "I'll be better able to thank ye all fittenly," the + white-haired old woman said, "when I come back to ye well 'n' + strong." + </p> + <p> + The last day before she was to start, all that was possible + being done for her, she and Davie were left to themselves, at + the minister's suggestion. Forty years before, Davie had + brought her to the house, yet in her soft marriage dress. The + wedding journey had been the coming up at sunset to the Ridge + from her home in the valley, behind his plough-horses, + lifting their plodding hoofs as in the furrows. On the clean + straw in the back of the wagon rested her small trunk and a + hive of bees, shrouded in calico. Tied to the tail-piece was + a homesick heifer. While he unhitched the horses and placed + her dowry, she entered his door to lay off her bonnet + tremulously in the living-room. + </p> + <p> + Alone with the clumsy carpet-loom which made his winter's + work, and his tired week-day hat hanging from a peg against + the wall, she had a deep moment. Joining him on the + door-step, they sat side by side watching in silence the + light die over the scanty fields handed down to him by his + father, who had grown bent and weary in wrenching a living + from them as he was aging. Neither was young; both were + marked by the swift homeliness of the hard-working; but the + look on their faces was that which falls when two have gotten + an immortal youth and beauty in each other's hearts. + </p> + <p> + It had been their custom on each succeeding spring to go, if + the anniversary ware pleasant, to sit again at evening on the + door-step with the sweetness of the straggling spice-bush + upon it. Now as they sat there a silence came upon them like + that of their wedding-day. Elizabeth broke it first. + </p> + <p> + "Davie," she whispered, "if I'd say I'd jest like to run + through the house a minute by myself, you won't think it + queer?" + </p> + <p> + "No, no," answered Davie, something gripping his chest. + </p> + <p> + She went slowly, her slippers flapping back and forth on her + heels. She sought first the tidy kitchen with its scoured + tins, then the living-room with the old loom still in the + corner, then the parlor. Here she drew a long, shaken breath. + Every Ridge woman loved her parlor with an inherited + devotion. Many unrecorded self-sacrifices furnished it. + Elizabeth's lay hallowed to her. It was her Place Beautiful. + There was a pale, striped paper on the sacred walls, and on + the floor an ingrain carpet, dully blue. At the windows were + ruffled white curtains—the ruffles and sheer lengths of + lawn had lain long in her dreams. The mantel-piece held a row + of shells, their delicate pink linings showing, and on either + end china vases filled with sprays of plumy grass. Above was + the marriage certificate, neatly framed. On the centre-table + were sundry piteous ornaments, deeply rooted in her + affections. The chairs and the single sofa, angular and + sombre, were set about with proud precision. They had been + the result of years of careful hoarding of egg-money, and + were, to Elizabeth, the achievement of her living. + </p> + <p> + Holding on to the banister, she climbed the stairs forlornly + to the upper chambers. In her own room Davie found her by and + by. She was sitting up very straight in her rocker, a baby's + long clothes on her lap. Her expression of pain was gone, and + in its stead was the strange peace of a woman who sees her + first-born. She looked up absently at her husband. + </p> + <p> + "Melindy Ethel," her voice crooned, "was so little 'n' warm." + </p> + <p> + "You must jest lay down 'n' rest, dearie," he urged, + anxiously. He took the things from her and laid them back, + one by one, in the lower drawer of the high, glass-knobbed + bureau whence she had taken them. The thin stuff of the + little, listless sleeves and yellowed skirts clung to his + roughened fingers; he freed them with gentleness. + </p> + <p> + "An' her hair would hev curled," she said, when the last + piece was in. + </p> + <p> + Davie had been kneeling among his vegetables that summer-time + long since that Elizabeth had come to stand beside him in + their garden, pushing from her forehead her heavy falling + hair, then dark, in the way she had if very glad. Seeing that + she had something to tell him, and wondering at her eyes, he + waited for her to speak. She did not keep him long. For an + instant her serene glance went up to the blue sky. Then her + hands stretched out to him. + </p> + <p> + "Davie," she began, "that old cradle of your ma's—" She + broke off shyly. + </p> + <p> + Davie stayed on his knees. He could not at once answer her, + but could only grope toward her blindly. Presently her touch + calmed him. + </p> + <p> + "It rocks from head to foot," he quavered in joy, "'stead o' + from side to side—the motion's better for 'em." + </p> + <p> + Striving to go well through her troubled months until her + hour should come, Elizabeth smiled often at Davie, and + sometimes the smile was a tender laugh in her + throat—Davie clumping excitedly over the farm about his + work; Davie bringing home from town the cautious purchase of + a child's sack, and crying out in exultation, "It's got + tossels on it!" Davie storing singular treasures in a box in + the garret—seed-pods which rattled when you shook them; + scarlet wood-berries, gay and likely to please; a tin + whistle, a rubber ball, a doll with joints, and a folded + paper having written on it, "For Croup a poultis of onions + and heeting the feet"; and Davie, his importance dropped from + him as a garment, coming to put his head down against her + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "I dun'no'," he said to her, "as a man better feel too uppity + 'bout becomin' a pa. It's an awful solemn undertakin', an' + the more you think it over the solemner it gets. Seems to me + it's somethin' like playin' the fiddle. There can't jest + anybody rush in an' play a real good time on a + fiddle—takes a terrible lot o' preparin' 'n' hard work + to tech them little strings to music. An' mebbe the man that + can tech 'em the best is him that's always been clean 'n' + honest 'n' real grave. I'm beginnin' to feel so no + 'count—why, I dun'no' a note o' fiddle music!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Davie," she had comforted, "it don't seem to me that the + man jest <i>born</i> good 'd play the sweetest, but the one + who had fought for things." + </p> + <p> + While she turned the tiny hems and ran the wonderful seams, + Davie, winter-bound, sat on the tall stool before his loom, + the bobbins wound with rags for a hit and miss. Weaving eked + out a slender income. His father's finger-tips, too, had + become stained by colors of warp and woof after the end of + the pig-killing had been announced by the children racing + with the bladders through the thin snow. + </p> + <p> + On Christmas day he brought down the cradle from the garret, + and wiped its gathered dust from it with a white cloth. To + please him, Elizabeth spread it ready with the sheets and + blankets. The sight of the pillow unmanned him. "The idee o' + that stove smokin' so Christmas!" he choked. She turned to + him quickly. Their seamed hands met as in that joyous moment + among the vegetables, but this time they clasped above a + dusted cradle. In view of the increased expenses before the + household they made each other no gifts; only Davie put a fir + bough and a teething-ring in his box. + </p> + <p> + Then he wove as though the clack of his shuttle were the beat + of a drum going by, then in a vast impatience, then with the + bridle hanging on the rim of the manger by the plough-horse + which had a saddle gait. + </p> + <p> + The morning that he clambered, frightened, into the saddle a + great cold wave was on the Ridge, with a fierce wind + continually blowing. Smoke curled up from the chimneys to + perish against the sunny sky. Cattle left in the open crowded + in the lee of the straw-stacks, their rough flanks crawling, + and in the folds the ewes, yet frail from their travail, + stood stung and still, mothering their weak-kneed lambs. + Beside the thud of the horse's hoofs toward town there was no + sound on the road save a little, dry cracking of the frost. + The doctor, as he started in his carriage for Davie's house, + drew his robes closely about him and scowled at the + fierceness of the blast; but Davie, riding far ahead, his + elbows flying wildly up and down, did not know that he had + forgotten to fasten his shabby overcoat. Crouched by the + silent loom, he clutched helplessly at the hit and miss as + Elizabeth went down into that loneliest of all earth's + agonies. + </p> + <p> + But from the beginning the child hung a doomed thing on her + breast. After three months they followed her up to the + burying-ground, the murmuring of its cedars never again to be + wholly out of their ears. Away from the grave Davie gave an + exceedingly bitter cry—"She's little to leave!" But + Elizabeth's tears fell back in her heart unshed. She waved + her handkerchief to Melindy Ethel. "But she's brave like her + pa," she said. And Davie stiffened. + </p> + <p> + Memories of these and other days, mingled with forebodings + for the parting, were so heavy upon him that he could get no + farther in the night's devotions than the reading of the + Bible chapter. + </p> + <p> + "I can't pray to-night, 'Lisbeth," he said. + </p> + <p> + Propped with pillows for the last rest before her journey, + she was still faithfully brave. "Mebbe the Lord'll jest take + care o' me, anyway, bein' as I've tried to do his ways." The + old man did not know how wistful was her speech. + </p> + <p> + In the morning she was early dressed in her decent black. To + those who came for the leave-taking she bade good-by with + gentle courtesy. Kerrenhappuch Green lent his buggy because + of its comfortable seat, but Davie drove her carefully over + the six miles to the station. No shriek of an engine's + whistle disturbed the quiet of Turkey Ridge; to go into wider + ways one must needs start from the nearest town. Once she + looked back at the house, set like an ancient brown bird's + nest on the narrow fields. + </p> + <p> + The yellow-bodied stage, going every other day across the + country, brought the minister the letter from his niece with + the happy tidings of Elizabeth's safe arrival, under her + guidance, at the city hospital. The stage-driver viewed the + missive with professional interest as he delivered it. The + majority of his passengers paid him monotonously in butter or + eggs for his services, his trips were tedious, and his ideals + were limited. To read and digest all postals and to + conjecture at the contents of all envelopes were his reward + for handing out the mail at the turning of the lanes. The + minister jogged down instantly to Davie's in his sulky, + slapping the lines vigorously, if ineffectually, over the + back of his brown mare, which understood, with a truly + feminine insight, his perplexity before her character. Davie + dropped his hoe and ran stumbling to meet him. He read the + pages in a tremble. There was something for him from + Elizabeth at the bottom of the last one. "Dear Davie," it + ran, "are you well an' lookin' jest the same? Don't get + lonesome for me. I ain't missin' you a mite." + </p> + <p> + During the period that she was resting for the operation Mary + wrote daily, and every time the letter came the minister + jogged down to the farmhouse, for the words were really from + the old wife to Davie. Very cheerful words they were for the + most part. "If Davie's askin' how the streets look, tell him + I can't jest tell, for I come in the night, but the noise is + amazin'." "Tell Davie I can see a church tower from the + window, an' it's higher 'n' we ever dreamt of its bein', an' + sweeter." "Tell Davie to lay listenin' to feet goin' up and + down on stones is grand." "Tell Davie I hev seen the surgeon + an' that I never thought a great man'd be so kind. I was all + in a flutter over him, but when he'd come 'n' had seen me, + whatever'd I do but tell him 'bout him 'n' Melindy Ethel, an' + the meetin'-house, an' how the road runs by in front o' the + farm. An' he said he knew, an' not to mind—as ma ust + to. Ain't it strange 'bout his knowin'?" + </p> + <p> + The letters to Elizabeth were a tremendous labor, for Davie + was no speller, and always bashful in the presence of ink. He + had only little happenings for his pen—he wrote with + his tongue forming the painful syllables about his mouth. But + to her they were infinite things—the May rose was + blossomed in the garden, and a pair of robins were nesting on + a ledge of the loom on finding the room so still; the + speckled hen scratched up the pease, and the black cow's calf + was lamed; the house dog pined for her and whimpered at the + doors, letting the cats lick the edges of his dish; the + neighbors had sent donations of a loaf of rye bread, a + pitcher of broth, and the half of a new pressed cheese; + Kerrenhappuch Green sat with him in the evenings, and he, + Davie, was not getting lonesome nor missing <i>her</i> at + all. But the one blotted "'Lisbeth, 'Lisbeth," told the true + tale of the empty house. + </p> + <p> + When no letter came from Mary he toiled, white as lint, in + his potato-field. There followed two days of sick suspense; + then the minister waved to him at the gray fence-rails. So + greatly did he dread to hear the news he longed to know, he + could not stir from the spot where he stood, but waited, a + strained, pathetic figure, for him to make his way across the + even furrows. On the fatherly, near-sighted countenance, as + he drew nearer, was to be seen such a shining brightness that + straightway Davie knew that she whom he loved had issued from + her trial. The two men, alike weather-beaten and seamed by a + humble work—the shepherd no less than the sheep of his + flock anxiously tilling a rocky farm,—had the reticence + which is learned in hill solitudes, but in the "Thank God, + Davie," and the breaking "Yes, sir," much was spoken. + </p> + <p> + Now Davie slackened his toil and opened all the windows of + the house to freshen the low-ceilinged rooms for Elizabeth's + returning. Every morning he picked bunches of spring flowers + and arranged them in stiff bouquets on the tables and old + bureaus. He took out his Sunday suit from the closet and + rebrushed it carefully and laid it with a clean collar and + his musty tie. He began to carry himself all at once with + something of an air, and he developed a reckless and + unnatural enthusiasm about the weather; for to be darkly + critical of the season after the thaw was a local point of + masculine etiquette which hitherto he had scrupulously + observed. The spring had always been in his judgment, + sympathetically received, "too terrible warm," or "pointin' + right to a late frost that'll kill everything," or, were it + not palpably a failure, "so durned nice now that the + summer'll be mean." But with the good news coming from the + hospital he was ready to declare in response to friendly + greetings: "It's the beatin'est time I ever come 'cross. + Dun'no' when I hev heerd so many bluebirds or sech chirky + ones. An' the sky's wonderful an' the ground's jest right. + It's goin' to be a dreadful good year for farmin'." + </p> + <p> + There was in his mind no premonition of trouble on his + receiving from the lumbering stage an envelope directed to + him in Elizabeth's own hand. It was only that she was getting + able to write to him herself. He took it unopened up to the + bench by the May rose to read its contents at his leisure + away from the stage-driver's curious gaze. "Dear Davie," the + letter said, "the city streets is so wearyin' an' I'm comin' + home. If I ain't so well as we hoped, don't mind. 'Tain't + like I was young to leave. Mary's comin' with me, for she's + long been wantin' to visit the Ridge. Could you meet me with + your wagon, Davie?" + </p> + <p> + She could not tell, what she did not know, that the money for + Mary's journey had been sent to her by the minister for his + old friend's needs. + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + The afternoon was very soft and fair when Davie met the train + incoming to town from the city. The farms on Turkey Ridge + were illumined with growing things like the faint, precious + pages of a missal. Doves fluttered on the lowly roofs. + Everywhere was the calling of birds and the smell of broken + earth. The minister and Mary fell behind along the way. + Kerrenhappuch Green, caught walking westward to the creek, + his stale pockets bulged by bait, hid with a simple delicacy + in the roadside bushes from Davie's face. Only the children + hastening from school nodded to him as he passed them, nor + hushed the loud clatter of their burring tongues. + </p> + <p> + It was not for young children to be stricken by that sight + upon the road—the pair of patient horses drawing slowly + homeward in the shining of the sun a wagon fresh lined with + straw, on which lay a homely mother, smiling with old lips; + and above her, on the seat, humbly bowed in his Sunday suit, + a gray-haired man whose cheeks were wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="BARNEY DOON, BRAGGART"></a> + <h2> + BARNEY DOON, BRAGGART + </h2> + <h3> + BY PHILIP VERRILL MIGHELS + </h3> + <p> + The nine dusty citizens of Bitter Hole, having one and all + proposed, unsuccessfully, for the hand of Miss Sally Wooster, + had about concluded that Bitter Water Valley was a desert, + after all, when they finally thought to turn their attention + once again to Barney Doon, the cook. + </p> + <p> + Let it here be stated, nevertheless, there was one thing to + prove that the valley was a desert, despite the presence of + Barney, and that was the face of the country itself. One-half + of that whole Nevada area was a great white blister, forty + miles long and fifteen wide, acrid with alkali, flat, barren, + and harsh as a sheet of zinc. The valley's remaining + territory was covered with gray, dry scrub, four inches high, + through which the dusty Overland stage-route was crookedly + scratched. + </p> + <p> + Bitter Hole was the station for the stage. In it flourished + the nine dusty citizens, a dusty dog, and a dusty chicken, in + addition to Barney and the buxom Miss Sally, whose father was + among the citizens enumerated. At the end of the street was a + hole, or well, the waters of which, being not precisely fatal + to men and horses, had occasioned the growth of the place, + there being no other water for leagues along the road. + </p> + <p> + Here in this land, even when Sally had scorned them, each in + turn, the men of the Hole were still agreed there could be no + desolation where Barney Doon had residence. Purely and simply + they loved the little cook for the fiery suddenness of his + temper and the ingenuity of the insults of which he was never + guiltless. The sulphurous little demon was, as the miners and + teamsters estimated, "only two sizes bigger than a full-grown + jack-rabbit." What he lacked in size, however, he more than + supplied in expression of countenance. His eyes were centres + of incandescence, while the meagre supply of hair he grew + bristled redly out from beside his ears like ill-ordered + spears. Indeed, such a red-whiskered, bald-headed little + parcel of fireworks as Barney was is rarely created. + </p> + <p> + Calmly considered, it is hardly a matter for marvel that + Barney had, from time to time, accommodated every individual + in the Hole with a quarrel. Moreover, he had challenged each + to mortal combat. Indeed, he had never been known to do + anything less. Barney was a challenger first and a cook + incidentally. But, ancient and modern tradition through, + there never was chronicle of actual encounter in which the + fierce little cook cut figure. + </p> + <p> + And, as a matter of fact, the men esteemed him perhaps + somewhat more for the skill and adroitness with which he + invariably squirmed out of impending engagements, than they + did for all the alacrity and pyrotechnics with which he was + wont to surround himself with duelsome entanglements. The + boys well knew that if blood were unlet till the bragging, + hot little rogue of a Barney stained his record, they would + all forget the color of a wound. + </p> + <p> + It was not without some elemental enthusiasm that the camp, + one evening, extended its welcome to a mule-driver newly + mustered to their company. The sobriquet by which the man was + duly introduced was Slivers. He was swiftly appraised and as + quickly assimilated, after which there was only one process + required to complete his initiation, namely, that of + preparing his mind for a "racket" with Barney Doon. + </p> + <p> + "Don't lose no time, but git right in at supper," instructed + John Tuttle, for the group. "Jest bang him with any old + insult you can think of, and leave the rest to Barney. Trot + out a plain, home-made slap at the fodder he's dishin' up, + fer instance. And when he comes at you with a challenge, + don't fergit your privilege of pickin' out the + weapons—savvy?" + </p> + <p> + It chanced that the moment selected for the entertainment was + most propitious, inasmuch as Barney had that day declared his + devotion to Sally Wooster, and had duly desired her big red + hand for his own, only to hear a wild peal of laughter in + reply, and to find himself boosted bodily out of the window + by the hearty young lady herself. He was not, therefore, + exactly in a mood of milk and honey. + </p> + <p> + It never had failed, and it did not fail to-night, that + Barney should conceive himself more than half insulted merely + by the sight of a stranger appearing at the board and calmly + requiring the wherewithal to satisfy a mountain appetite. + Accordingly, when the miners and teamsters all came filing + in, dusty, angular, raw-looking of countenance, Barney + instantly detected the presence of Slivers among them, and + his eyes "lit up shop" without delay. + </p> + <p> + Slivers, to speak the truth, was easily seen. He was framed + like a sky-scraping building, with the girders all plainly + suggested. Not without a certain insolence of deliberation, + he stared about the room before assuming his seat, and + provoked himself to a sneer of opera-bouffe proportions. + </p> + <p> + "You're his meat already," whispered one of the men. "Set + down." + </p> + <p> + Comrade Slivers thereupon proceeded to comport himself with a + studied indifference to the cook which was duly galling. In a + grim silence that all who knew him comprehended, Barney went + about the table glowering with ferocity. Edging closer and + closer to Slivers, the little man seemed itching in his ears + to catch some careless word that might, by dint of + inventiveness, be construed as a personal affront. + </p> + <p> + "I can see you ain't got no cook in the camp," said Slivers, + loudly, to his neighbor, when Barney was directly behind his + chair. "Has that pizened little boy I seen a while ago been + playin' keep-house with the grub?" + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter with the grub, you scion of the wild-ass + family?" demanded Barney, exploding like a fulminate. + </p> + <p> + Slivers looked around and scowled. "Git out, you yawping + brat," said he. "You must have been losin' hair for + years—one hair a day—for everything you don't + know about decent grub. Go look at yer head, and figure out + your ignorance." + </p> + <p> + Sensitive concerning the trackless Sahara which his pate + presented, Barney clapped his hand upon it instantly. He + could scarcely speak, for rage. + </p> + <p> + "You—dead lizard!" finally spurted from his + safety-valve. "You mongrel viper! Low-bred ooze, disowned and + outcast, I'll spoil a grave with your carcass for this! You + jelly of cowardice, meet me to-morrow for satisfaction, or + I'll swing you about by the tongue, and hurl you to pulp + against the sty of a pig!" + </p> + <p> + Even Slivers somewhat gasped. + </p> + <p> + "Meet you?" he retorted, arising, to tower above his foeman + like a mast. "Iron me, Johnny!—if I can crawl in the + hole to find you where you're hidin' I'll make you wish for + hair a mile long, to stand on your head in your pitiful + scare!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, fie! Oh, bah!" said the cook, scanning the teamster's + length with ill-concealed awe. "Buzzard, you toy with + languages. To-morrow I shall throw tomato-cans in scorn to + build your monument." + </p> + <p> + "All right," answered Slivers. "To-morrow suits me, and we'll + fight it out bareback on buckin' broncos, out in the small + corral, each feller armed with a stockin' full of rocks for a + weapon." + </p> + <p> + Barney stared for a moment in consternation at the man before + him. He had previously grown accustomed to the horrors + suggested by pistols, knives, red-hot branding-irons, and + even pitchforks, but rocks in a stocking—that smacked + of barbarism. Moreover, to mount on the back of a bronco, + wild or tame—the very meditation made the walls drop + out of his stomach. However, he smiled. + </p> + <p> + "Child's play!" he answered, with fine disgust. "You warty + infant! No matter, an odious child would become a more + detestable reptile! Till to-morrow, don't speak to + me—don't speak to me! Or I shall cheat myself of the + morning's pastime." And with that he strode haughtily away. + </p> + <p> + "Howlin' coyotes!" said Slivers, when he met the gaze of a + dozen pair of gleaming eyes. "Take him dose for dose he's + worse than pizen! By gar! just see if he burned any holes in + my shirt." + </p> + <p> + Nearly all night long, however, little Barney lay awake, + wildly fashioning excuses to avoid that horrid duel in the + morning. He had always escaped by a margin so narrow that no + precedent of the past gave assurance of luck for the future. + He was mortally afraid that at last he had challenged such a + monster of brute courage, malignity, and strength that + nothing terrestrial could avert his untimely demise. + </p> + <p> + Then in the morning the first sight that met his troubled + gaze was that of Slivers rounding up a pair of unbroken + ponies, as wild as meteors, in the field of honor, hard by + the camp. Every cell in Barney's structure was in a panic. + How he managed to walk to the water-bench to wash was more + than he knew. After that there was no retreat. The citizens + of Bitter Hole surrounded him, according to preconcerted + arrangement, and began to coach him for his fight. + </p> + <p> + "Barney, you'd better have a jolt of whiskey in yer vitals," + suggested one. "Slivers is a regular expert with a stockin' + of rocks." + </p> + <p> + "If I was you, Barney," said Tuttle, "I'd leave my bronco + throw me right at him. Then. I'd turn in the air and soak my + heels into Slivers's grub-basket and knock him into pieces + small enough to smoke in a cigarette." + </p> + <p> + "Barney," counselled another, "you take my advice and fight + standin' up on your hoss, so you can jump over onto Slivers's + bronco and cram your stockin' of rocks down that there + mule-driver's neck and choke him clean to death." + </p> + <p> + They were "herding" the speechless Barney toward the corral, + in which the two vicious ponies had now been confined. + Slivers himself came forward. + </p> + <p> + "Leave me see how much the little scarecrow has shrunk in the + night," said he. + </p> + <p> + Barney's wrath was kindled by this. He opened his mouth to + deliver a broadside of verbal grape and canister, when he was + suddenly interrupted. + </p> + <p> + A shot and a yell, from down the road, startled every man in + camp. Two, three, five more shots barked in swift succession. + Miss Sally Wooster herself was drawn from the house by the + fusillade. + </p> + <p> + With Comanche-like whoops, a horseman came dashing madly + toward the men, brandishing two huge revolvers as he rode. + </p> + <p> + "Skete, and drunk in the morning," said Tuttle. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the rider scattered the population as he rode + his weltering pony through the group. + </p> + <p> + "You lubbers, celebrate!" he yelled, discharging a weapon + three times in a second. "There's been a baby born at Red + Shirt Canyon! We git in the census! We git on the map! Big + Matt Sullivan's wife has got a little boy!" + </p> + <p> + "A boy!" said Sally Wooster. "Oh my!" + </p> + <p> + "Is that all?" inquired John Tuttle, on behalf of his + somewhat indignant townsmen. "Red Shirt's thirty-seven miles + away. We've got something more exciting than that right here + in camp." + </p> + <p> + "Red Shirt's in this same county," protested the horseman, a + trifle crestfallen. "I thought you fellers was patriotic." + </p> + <p> + Barney Doon threw out his chest and swaggered forward. + </p> + <p> + "Patriotic?" he echoed. "Doggone us, we're the biggest + patriots on the coast! No man is a gentleman who wouldn't be + a gentleman on such an occasion as this. Skete, you've saved + the life of yonder braggart," and he pointed to Slivers. "I + couldn't be a gentleman and slay him when a child's been born + in this here county. Slivers, you can go your way, without + alarm." + </p> + <p> + "What!" demanded Tuttle. "No fight? All on account of a + baby?" + </p> + <p> + "If I ever!" added Sally Wooster. + </p> + <p> + A third disgusted person queried, "What's a baby got to do + with a duel, and the kid near forty miles away?" + </p> + <p> + To this one Barney turned with pitying scorn. "You don't know + how easy it is to disturb a new-born baby," said he. "There + ain't a man but me in camp knows how to behave himself in a + holy moment like this here, and I ain't a-goin' to kill no + man when a sacred thing like that has went and happened." + </p> + <p> + "Well, durn his slippery hide!" grumbled Tuttle. "He's + gittin' too smart!" + </p> + <p> + The men were all grinning, including Slivers. + </p> + <p> + "I reckon Barney knows as much about a baby as a hop-toad + knows about arithmetic," said Wooster, winking prodigiously. + "He's got us all square beat on kids." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know about that," replied a lanky individual who had + sobered amazingly at the news from Red Shirt Canyon. "I've + saw a kid or two myself." + </p> + <p> + "That so, Moody?" said Slivers. "Well, say, maybe we could + work up a bet between you and Barney, to see which knows the + most about a youngster." + </p> + <p> + Barney broke in abruptly. "I'll bet a million dollars I know + more about children than all you cusses put together! There + ain't a one of you knows how many teeth a baby's got when + he's born." + </p> + <p> + The challenge produced a solemn stillness. + </p> + <p> + "W-e-l-l, I know they don't git their eyes open for a week," + asserted Moody. + </p> + <p> + "You're clear off, first crack," retorted Barney. "It's nine + days, instead of a week." + </p> + <p> + Again the men were awed to silence. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, that's right—Barney's correct," presently + admitted citizen Wooster. + </p> + <p> + "You old ninnies!" said his daughter Sally, and she turned + away to go to the house. + </p> + <p> + "Well, anyway," said Slivers, after a brisk bit of widespread + conversation with Tuttle, "we've got a scheme. Barney wants + to match himself against the whole shebang in knowin' about a + kid, and we're goin' to fetch a young un to the Hole and + leave him prove his claim." + </p> + <p> + "Not Sullivan's?" gasped Barney, suddenly overwhelmed at the + prospect of proving his erudition on an infant so tender, + with a father so brawny. + </p> + <p> + "Never mind whose," replied the teamster. "You sit quiet and + look pretty, and we'll provide the kid." + </p> + <p> + This they did. The following morning, at daylight, Tuttle and + Slivers reappeared at camp, from a pilgrimage, and the + mule-driver held in his arms a little red Indian papoose, as + fat, dimpled, and pretty as a cherub, and as frightened as a + captive baby rabbit. + </p> + <p> + "Now, then," said the man, placing his charge on the floor, + in the midst of a circle of wondering citizens, "there's your + kid. Never mind where we got him—there he is. Barney + takes charge of him every other day, and the rest of us by + turns in between—all that cares to enter the race." + </p> + <p> + The news having spread, Miss Sally Wooster was among the + astonished spectators who beheld the tiny, half-naked, + frightened little chieftain-to-be, gazing timidly about him + as he sat on the planks, gripping his own little shirt as his + one and only acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + "Lauk!" she said, and laughing immoderately, sped for the + door. + </p> + <p> + "Sally, you ain't to help neither Barney nor us!" called + Tuttle. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you worry," she answered. "It ain't no pie of mine." + </p> + <p> + The men continued to look at their "young un" in no small + quandary of helplessness. + </p> + <p> + "He's a pretty little cuss," said one of the miners, after a + moment. "I wouldn't guess him for more than a yearlin'." + </p> + <p> + Moody coughed nervously. "One of the first things to do for a + child," he ventured, "is to git a thimble to rub on his + teeth." + </p> + <p> + "That's right," said a friend. "My mother used to do that + regular." + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter with putting pants on him fairly early in + the fight?" inquired the next man of wisdom. + </p> + <p> + "First thing my mother always done for us was to make us a + bib," drawled one fidgety fellow, tentatively. + </p> + <p> + "He'd orter be told never to drink, ner chew, ner smoke, ner + swear, ner gamble, 'fore it gits too late," added a miner who + carefully eschewed all and sundry of these virtues. + </p> + <p> + "Stub-tailed idiots!" said Barney, in huge disgust. + </p> + <p> + All eyes focussed on the fiery little cook. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then," demanded Tuttle, "what is the first thing to do + for a little kid like him?" + </p> + <p> + "The first thing?" answered Barney. "The first thing + is—Do you think I'm going to tell you lop-eared galoots + all I know about a baby? What I want to know is if he's had a + bite to eat?" + </p> + <p> + "What did you think we'd feed him?" asked Slivers. "Do we + look like his mother?" + </p> + <p> + "Git away, you venomous scum, and let me have him!" demanded + Barney. + </p> + <p> + "Hold on," interrupted Tuttle. "The first day he goes to the + feller he picks out himself, only you come last, bein' the + challenger. We'll arrange things alphabetical. Adams, you git + first shot, to find out if you're popular with the little + skeesicks." + </p> + <p> + Adams turned redder than usual, which is saying much. + </p> + <p> + "Ah—I don't know nuthin' about kids," he confessed. + "Catherwood—see what he can do." + </p> + <p> + Catherwood also proved to be modest. After him Farnham and + Lane waived their alphabetical privilege. + </p> + <p> + Moody, as nervous as a girl, approached the dumb little man + on the floor, and twisting the corner of his coat, inquired + in a trembling voice, "Does Bunny love old Goo-goo?" + </p> + <p> + The child looked up with a frightened little query in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I'd hate to scare him," Moody added. "I don't mind seein' + how he takes to Barney." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, give Barney a show," said Wooster. + </p> + <p> + Something had been happening to the cook. The tenseness had + gone from his usually wiry little body; his eyes were milder; + a curve was softening his mouth. Kneeling before the child, + he held forth his arms. + </p> + <p> + "Baby want to go by-by?" he said, and tenderly lifting the + little man, he bore him away, while the men looked on in + silence. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later the man who peeked through the keyhole + reported that Barney was singing the youngster to sleep. The + words of the song are not readily conveyed, but they sounded + like— + </p> + <p> + <br> + "Allonsum sum-sum bill-din,<br> + Allonsum sum-sum bill-din,<br> + Allonsum sum-sum bill-din," + </p> + <p> + repeated times without number. Barney called it an Indian + lullaby. As sung it was equally good Cherokee, Chinese, or + Russian, being Barney's clearest recollection and + interpretation of a song which his mother once had droned. + </p> + <p> + On the third day following, Slivers, Tuttle, and others held + a council of war. + </p> + <p> + "Barney's goin' to clean up the whole works of us," said the + mule-driver, "unless we can manage to work some better + combination." + </p> + <p> + "What can we do?" inquired Tuttle. "The kid sure likes him + best." + </p> + <p> + "That wasn't the point. It's a game of how much we all know + about a young un as against little Barney. Now, Moody, on the + square, do you think you know as much as him?" + </p> + <p> + "He knows more than you'd think," confessed Moody. + "The—the only little kid I ever had—she + died—ten months old." + </p> + <p> + "Oh." + </p> + <p> + "Well—that was hell, sure." + </p> + <p> + Some of the men puckered their lips as if to whistle, but + made no sound. + </p> + <p> + "If only we could paint Barney's face an Irish green, or do + something so's the kid would be scared to see him, we might + win out yet, perhaps," resumed Slivers, presently. "Got any + ideas?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't think Barney could scare him if he tried," answered + Wooster. "Anyhow the pore little scamp ain't cried since he + come." + </p> + <p> + "He ain't laughed any, either," added Moody. + </p> + <p> + There was neither a cry nor a smile that day, though Barney + yearned to hear either one of these baby sounds. The little + brown captive clung as always to his tiny shirt, and watched + Barney's face with big, brown, questioning eyes. The cook had + forgotten his boast. To hold the wee bit of babyhood against + his heart, to coax him to eat, to yearn over him, love him, + fondle him—these were his passions. A fierce parental + jealousy grew in Barney's nature. + </p> + <p> + But the hour arrived when jealousy changed to a deeper + emotion—to worry. All Barney actually knew of a child + came through the intuitions of a natural father's heart, but + little as this amounted to, Barney was aware that a tiny + scamp like this should eat and sleep and creep about and + crow. And the little brown "Bunny" had done not one of the + pretty baby tricks. + </p> + <p> + The fiery little cook's new concern was at first concealed. + With growing reluctance every time, he resigned the little + man to Moody's care as the "contest" required. One night, + however, when the dumb, sad bit of an Indian was with Moody, + the man was aroused from his dreams by some one's presence. + It was Barney, too worried to sleep, surreptitiously come to + the tiny captive's fruit-box cradle, and gently urging the + wee bronze man to eat of some gruel prepared at that silent + hour of the darkness. He was willing that Moody should have + the credit of taking good care of the motherless baby, if + only the child could be made a little more happy. Thereafter, + by night and day, the cook was hovering about the + uncomplaining little chieftain; and Moody understood. + </p> + <p> + By some of the mystic workings of nature, Barney's love and + worry extended to Sally. Hiding her feelings from all the + men, even from Barney himself, she could not quell the upgush + of emotion in her bosom, as she snatched the little Indian + once, in secret, to her heart. Without the courage, as yet, + to hear the men ridicule her weakness, she nevertheless + contrived to place a hundred little comforting things in + Barney's path, as he went his rounds of mothering his sad + little wild thing from the hills. Her heart began to ache, as + it swelled to take in the child and Barney Doon. + </p> + <p> + The men had lost all spirit of fun in the contest, even to + Slivers, who strove, however, to see it through in a bluff, + rough-hearted way. + </p> + <p> + Unexpectedly all of it came to a crisis. It was early in the + morning. After a sleepless night Barney had gone in desperate + parent-care to receive his foundling back from Moody. In one + keen glance he had finally perceived what all their folly was + leading to, at last. + </p> + <p> + With the dumb little chap on his arm he hastened to the + dining-shed, where all the men, save Tuttle, were awaiting + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + "You brutes had no right to steal this child!" he cried out, + passionately. "He's starving! He's pining away! Look at his + thin little legs! Look at his poor little eyes—getting + hollow!" Tears were streaming from his own tired eyes as he + spoke. "Slivers, you did this!" he charged, angrily. "You + tell me where you got him, or I'll shoot you down like a + dog!" He had hastened up to the teamster, against whose very + breast he thrust a pistol a foot in length. + </p> + <p> + "By God! he'd do it!" said Slivers, unmoved by the push of + the loaded weapon. "Uncock it, Barney. You'd ought to know I + wouldn't harm the kid, any quicker than you. I'd do as much + as any man if we had to save his life." + </p> + <p> + "He may not live through the day!" cried Barney. "I'm going + to take him home—back to his mother! And if you don't + tell me where she is—" + </p> + <p> + "Hold on, now; I call," interrupted Slivers. "We'll see if + you've got any sand. The Injun camp is over across the + desert, in Thimbleberry Cove.... Do you reckon you've got the + nerve to pack him across?" + </p> + <p> + A peculiar silence followed this announcement. Barney stood + like an animal at bay. His face became deathly white. He + fully comprehended the awfulness of that great white + dead-land just outside. + </p> + <p> + Wooster broke the silence. "It looks as if the wind is going + to blow harder to-day," he said. "It's stirring up the desert + some already. A man could never get two miles out from here, + unless the breeze goes down." + </p> + <p> + Barney, with a crazed, wild look on his face, hastened away + to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + "I'm glad he didn't take you up on that," said Moody, gazing + forth from a window. "Get on to the way the whirlwinds are + kickin' up the smoke already." + </p> + <p> + "I reckon it won't blow no worse than yesterday," replied + Slivers. "But I knowed he wouldn't tackle it anyhow. He'll be + back here in a minute, to squirm out of the game." + </p> + <p> + They drummed on the table for fifteen minutes, as they + waited. A brisk wind was blowing; the desert began to deliver + up its cohorts of dust-clouds, where powdered alkali billowed + and eddied and swept across the valley in ever-increasing + volumes. + </p> + <p> + "Peek in the kitchen and see what Barney's up to now," + prompted Slivers, nudging Adams as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, he'll be back directly," said Adams. + </p> + <p> + "Here's somebody comin' now," added Catherwood, presently. + "Maybe it's—" + </p> + <p> + "Sally," muttered Slivers, who meditated proposing for the + hand of the buxom Miss Wooster. + </p> + <p> + She came toward them almost fiercely. Her face was white. She + too had detected the change come upon the tiny Indian + captive. All night she had accused herself of neglect and + heartlessness. + </p> + <p> + "Where's Barney? Where's the baby?" she demanded. + </p> + <p> + "Barney's maybe striking off for Thimbleberry Cove," answered + Slivers, smilingly. "He was running a bluff on taking the kid + to its mother." + </p> + <p> + "But Tuttle told me the mother's up at Red Shirt Canyon," + said the girl. + </p> + <p> + "Of course," agreed Slivers, uneasily. "We—told him + about the Cove to test his sand." + </p> + <p> + Sally gazed at him wildly. "Then—it must have been a + man—Barney!—I saw—on the desert!" she + cried, disjointedly. "They'll die! Oh no, he wouldn't—" + She ran outside to scan the fearful expanse of alkali, with + its gathering blizzard of dust. + </p> + <p> + The men, suddenly grown nervous, followed her out of the + house. Apparently there was nothing, far or wide, on the + desert, save the sweeping clouds of white, like drifting + snow. + </p> + <p> + "My God! he wouldn't tackle that!" said Slivers. + </p> + <p> + "I hear some one out in the kitchen now," said Tate. "It must + be him." + </p> + <p> + Sally ran to see. It was only the dog. She darted forth once + more. + </p> + <p> + "Not there!" she said. "But surely Barney + wouldn't—There! There!" + </p> + <p> + Her cry rang out so shrilly that even Slivers started. She + was pointing stiffly. The men all stared at the storm of + dust. For one brief second the swirling clouds were reft, + revealing, far out eastward, in the dead-land of white, a + small dark object—the form of a man. + </p> + <p> + One poignant sob was the only sound that Sally made, as she + ran toward the stable. + </p> + <p> + "Good Lord! it's him!" said Adams. "Was he heading back this + way?" + </p> + <p> + "I think he was," answered Catherwood. + </p> + <p> + "He couldn't—do anything—else," stammered + Slivers. + </p> + <p> + For a moment no one spoke. + </p> + <p> + "I reckon I'll just mosey over to the desert," drawled the + fidgety man. "I'd hate to have anything go wrong with + Barney." + </p> + <p> + "Guess I'll go along myself," said Adams. + </p> + <p> + "Boys!" said Slivers, hoarsely, "I'm going to saddle up and + git him back! I didn't mean no harm when I told him wrong. I + didn't think he'd go. I'd ride through hell for + Barney—or the little Injun, either. You fellers know I + didn't mean no harm." + </p> + <p> + He started at once to get his horse. Before he had covered + half the distance to the stable, Sally suddenly rode forth, + bareback, on a buckskin pony, and heading for the desert, + spurred her bronco to a gallop, crying to him wildly as she + went. + </p> + <p> + "Sally!—Sally—I'll go!" yelled Slivers. + </p> + <p> + She seemed not to hear, but ran her pony out upon the white + expanse, where the wreathing dust seemed to swallow both + herself and the animal immediately. + </p> + <p> + Her horse, fleeing swiftly before the wind, carried Sally a + mile or two out from the camp before she reined him in. + Believing Barney could have come no farther than this, she + began to search and to call. + </p> + <p> + At every turn of her head her eyes were blinded by the acrid + dust. The stuff choked her breathing; already her throat was + dry. Dust and powder and snow-of-alkali came from everywhere. + It was blowing up her sleeves. It filtered into and through + her clothing. Her ears were quickly coated; her hair was + heavy. + </p> + <p> + She turned her head from side to side for a breath. The air + was thicker than smoke with dust as heavy as flour. + </p> + <p> + "Barney!" she called, from time to time, but the alkali + coated her tongue. On either side she could see for a + distance of twenty feet, or less. It seemed far less, in all + that terrible drift of white. + </p> + <p> + She rode across the wind, doggedly, crying Barney's name. A + nameless hopelessness began to grow upon her. Now this way, + now that, she urged her horse. How far could Barney hear her + calling? How far could he wander? How far would she ride? + There were forty miles in length and fifteen in width of this + reek of wind-driven alkali. God keep them if ever they got + more than two miles away from the Hole! + </p> + <p> + It was aimless riding, presently, but she still persisted. A + sickening conviction that Barney and the little captive would + both be dead before she could find them made her desperation + unendurable. With eyes starting hotly, with every breath + seeming like a struggle for existence, in the dust, she + galloped, calling, calling, till at last she could call no + more. + </p> + <p> + Dazed, she halted her horse at last, and sat staring blindly + at nothing. The pony turned about, unheeded, and began to + fight his way against the storm, his head down between his + legs. + </p> + <p> + Sally's head also came down, by instinct more than by design. + She felt past thinking. For a time she rode thus, heedlessly. + Then abruptly she clutched at the reins and drew the horse to + a halt. The animal pricked up his ears peculiarly. + </p> + <p> + Weirdly out of the wind and dust came a sound—not a + moan, not a croon, but like them both, yet a song, uncertain, + apparently coming from no definitive point. She even caught + the words: + </p> + <p> + "All on some lonesome bill-din<br> + The swallow makes her nest; + </p> + <p> + All on some—lonesome bill-din<br> + The—swallow makes—her + nest." + </p> + <p> + Sally tried to call out. She made but a croaking noise. + Slipping from her horse's back, she groped her way forward, + leading the pony, and trying to shout. + </p> + <p> + For a rod or more she battled against the driving dust, then + halted as before. Not another sound would the desert render + up—only the strange dry swishing by of the particles of + stuff rasping the desert's surface as they passed and rose. + </p> + <p> + "Barney!" she called, by a mighty effort. There was no + response. + </p> + <p> + Crying now, in her anguish and plight, she led the pony this + way and that, up and down, listening, trying to force a shout + through her swollen lips. At length, in despair, she knew she + could search no more. A lifelessness of feeling was creeping + upon her. Mechanically she walked beside her pony, and it was + the animal that was leading. + </p> + <p> + It seemed as if she had plodded onward thus for hours, when + at length she stumbled upon a gray little mound in the + drifting alkali. + </p> + <p> + "Barney!" she said, in a voice scarcely more than a whisper. + Crooning and sobbing, she lifted him up—unconscious, + but clinging to the still, little form that was hugged to the + shelter of his breast. + </p> + <p> + "Hang on—oh, hang on to the horse, dear, please," she + coaxed, in all the tender strength of a new-born love. + "Barney—try—try, dear, please. I'll be your + wife—I'll do anything—if only you'll try." + </p> + <p> + She had raised him bodily to the pony's back. Stiffly as a + man that freezes he straddled the animal. He made no answer, + no movement. She feared he must be dead. She dared not look + at the little papoose. Barney's weight rested partially upon + her shoulder. She tossed away the reins. + </p> + <p> + "Go on, Sancho—go on home," she croaked to the horse, + passionately. + </p> + <p> + The pony seemed to comprehend. With some faint fragrance of + the waters of Bitter Hole in his nostrils, the willing + creature fought slowly, steadily forward, against the + terrible drift. + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + John Tuttle and Henry Wooster descried a group, like a + sculpture in whitened stone endowed with life, creep + strangely out from the blizzard of alkali. A blinded horse, + with head bent low, bearing on its back a motionless man, and + led by a stumbling, blinded girl, against whose shoulder the + helpless rider leaned, came with ghostlike slowness and + silence toward them. + </p> + <p> + And all day long, one by one, more men came forth, like + ghosts, from the dead-land. But the twilight had come and the + wind had died away before teamster Slivers limped from the + desert. He came afoot. He had ridden his horse to death, in + his desperate quest. He could barely see—and his hair + was white, even below the coating of the dust. + </p> + <p> + Moody ran to meet him. + </p> + <p> + "Barney?—Sally?—the kid?" the teamster demanded, + raucously. + </p> + <p> + "Back—and goin' to live," said Moody. "The Injuns up to + Red Shirt heard where the little feller was and was goin' on + the war-trail, sudden, but the mother came down on the stage + to-day,—and got her pretty little kid." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, God! I didn't deserve it!" said Slivers, and letting + himself fall limply to the earth, he lay with his face in the + curve of his arm and shook with emotion. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="THE REPARATION"></a> + <h2> + THE REPARATION + </h2> + <h3> + BY EMERY POTTLE + </h3> + <p> + He looked up from the desk where he had been sitting for the + last hour, his head down on his arms, trying to shut out the + brave, old cry of life coming in through the open windows, + pulling gently at his heart, cheeping through the darkened + room as lightly and as blithely as the birds in the + horse-chestnut tree just outside—the brave cry of life + that, somehow, for all its clamorous traditions, seemed just + then something peaceful, something that held release, + freedom. + </p> + <p> + He stared about him, furtively, for an instant, as if + instinctively on his guard against an unwelcome eye. Then, + presently, he smiled, and going to a window, pushed open the + blinds, leaning, with elbows on the sill, gratefully out into + the rectangular enclosure, walled in high by houses, where + the late afternoon sun glanced with uncertain warmth on the + horse-chestnut. + </p> + <p> + There was now, he told himself, no use of evading or denying + it longer; right or wrong, things had come to a point with + him where anything but the truth was unbearable; it was + there, like a live thing with him in the room, and out in the + court, too,—almost as if he could put out his hand and + draw it in close to him. Freedom, that was it. His lips made + the word noiselessly, again and again, fascinated with the + sensation. "Free, free," he kept whispering, stretching out + his hands greedily, drawing in full breaths of the late + September air. + </p> + <p> + "I'm glad, that's all there is to it—glad. I can't help + being glad—I've tried, too, but now, to-day, it's bound + to come out. Glad! It's like being let out of school." + </p> + <p> + That word—school—brought him back sharply. It + seemed to precipitate all the old worry in the solution that + but a moment ago was so clear. He came back hesitatingly from + the window and threw himself down before the desk again, + unable to restrain something he vaguely named his conscience + from its weary accusations. + </p> + <p> + "It's an awful thing. It's true, it is. I'm a beast. I'm all + wrong to be like this. It's a terrible thing to be glad a + person is—" He shivered as he withheld the end of the + sentence, though he realized his cowardice in so withholding. + "And that person your—" Again he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + Haldane, by the desk, was a figure to make, involuntarily, + demands on one's sympathy. It seemed all his + life—perhaps thirty years long—he had been doing + this in one way or another, and by no effort of his. People + had a fashion of "looking out for him." Not that he had grown + up particularly incapable or helpless; it might rather have + been due to a certain appealing gentleness of bearing, + something that was the resultant of a half-shy manner, + expanding into boyish confidence winningly; a shortish, + slender figure, scarcely robust; eager, friendly brown eyes + behind his glasses; and a keen desire to be liked. It might + be seen, in the present sharp nervous play of emotion over + his face, how utterly he was unsuited to the weight of mental + discomfort,—how it fretted and galled him. That he was + a gentleman, and by nature of a morbidly just and fair + disposition, only made his present distress the more + intolerable to him. + </p> + <p> + "Lord God," he muttered, hopelessly, "why, <i>why</i> had it + all to be?" And this question might, in the end, be taken as + an aimless appeal to the Almighty to know why He had + deliberately led him into a wretchedly miserable condition of + mind and left him there. + </p> + <p> + It was the day after Ida's burial—Haldane's wife's + burial. A week ago he had taken her to a city hospital, and + she had died there—she and her baby—in the night, + away from Haldane. He had gone dazedly, very conscientiously, + through the dreadful, relentless activity that follows + immediately on the heels of death; there was some alleviation + in the thought that everything had been done just as + <i>she</i> would have liked to have it. To-day the house was + free of the grieving, sickening smell of flowers; the last of + the people had mercifully fulfilled their duty to Ida and him + and had gone, leaving him the humiliation of their honest, + warm-hearted words and halting phrases of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + "Great God!" he had kept saying to himself as he listened to + them, "if you <i>knew</i>,—if you <i>knew</i>!" + </p> + <p> + At times he felt, as he thought of those friends, secretly + resentful. "If it hadn't been for them, I don't believe I," + he caught himself saying—"I'd ever have married." But + again he stopped his mental train abruptly. It was such a + wearisome business, this "being fair"—he put it + so—to <i>her</i>; this conscientious erasing of + self-justification which he felt to be so unworthy. It would + have been such a relief to Haldane to be, for an hour, + obliviously selfish in his estimate of his two years of + marriage with Ida. + </p> + <p> + There had been nothing, after all, remarkable in Haldane's + experience—save for him; nothing very far removed from + the commonplace. His father—a simple-hearted + musician—had trained his son in music since the days + when the lad could first hold a violin under his little chin. + He had died when the boy was twenty, and Haldane had gone on, + contentedly enough and absorbed, to take his father's place + among the violins of an orchestra, and to teach music. As he + grew older his father's friends told him he was leading a + wretchedly lonely life; that he ought to marry. And at this + Haldane smiled his deprecating, affectionate smile—a + smile that, somehow, convinced his advisers in their own + wisdom. + </p> + <p> + When Ida Locke came to live in a hall bedroom of the untidy + boarding-house Haldane for years had called home, it was not + long before she, too, quite unaffectedly, took to the idea + that the good-natured musician needed "looking after." And + since, all her life, she had tremendously given herself to + the care of people around her, it was no unusual + experience—she sought it frankly, importantly. + </p> + <p> + It is scarcely probable that, in the beginning, any thought + of ultimate marriage entered her head. Those who knew her + invariably said, "Ida is a sensible girl." Rather, her + "looking after" Haldane took itself out in the hearty + channels of dry boots, overshoes, tea of late afternoons, + candid suggestions as to proper winter underwear, remedies + for his frequent colds. This solicitude—which was, in + essence, quite maternal—made a bond between the two; + this and the fact that they both were workers—for Ida + taught English in a private school. + </p> + <p> + It is hardly necessary to elaborate their romance, if it was + such, from this point. Gradually, hastened by the awful + propinquity in a third-rate boarding-house, Haldane really + came to believe—as along the line of least + resistance—in his personal incapacity and his + loneliness; gradually Ida Locke began to realize that, for + the first time, this Love she had read of and dreamed of + doubtfully had become a reality for her. She was not a little + amazed and gratified at its plain practicability—its + <i>sensibleness</i>, she put it. + </p> + <p> + That she so liked him—indeed, he liked <i>her</i> + enormously, he considered—assured Haldane in his + moments of misgiving. The very largeness in her ample effect + of good looks, her genius for managing his affairs and hers, + her prim neatness of dress, her utter freedom from any sort + of weak dependence on him, her uncompromising rigidity of + moral attitude, and, above all, her <i>goodness</i> to + him—this convinced him of her ultimate fitness to be a + wife to him; and it must be said that he had never heretofore + given anything but the scantest attention to the matter of + sentimental attachments; it had not occurred to him, + definitely, that he was even likely some day to fall + splendidly in love. + </p> + <p> + So when he asked her, shyly, gently, to marry him she + consented frankly—too frankly, Haldane almost admitted. + And since, in the world as she knew it, men did not ask women + to marry them unless they loved them really, she took much + for granted, and began, at once, to look for a cheap flat. + </p> + <p> + Ida gave up her teaching when they married and went to their + Harlem flat. Indeed, she considered this her domestic right; + now, after almost a dozen years—she was older than + Haldane—of instruction, she wanted "to rest, and keep + house," she told her husband. + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly, illogically perhaps, after not more than + three months of it, Haldane knew it was all quite intolerable + to him. Before the desk to-day, Ida's desk, he saw luminously + just how intolerable it had been—these two years of + marriage. + </p> + <p> + The more irritatingly unbearable, too, it was because of the + excellence of Ida's qualities—qualities he had taken + humorously before marriage, but which later he had to take + seriously. He began to hate her constant and intimate + possession of his motives and tastes, her inquiries as to + what he ate for lunch, and whether he considered his flannels + quite adequate. He childishly resented her little nagging + economies—and especially because he knew they were + generally necessary. He chafed at the practical, sensible + view he was argued resolutely into on every matter. What made + it hard was that Haldane could not decently account for his + revulsion of feeling toward Ida, now she was his wife. Worse + than all, he saw how lightly she held in esteem his + music—his one real love. To her it was a graceful trade + to earn a living by—nothing else. And when she finally + made it out that in his position in the orchestra he was + likely never to rise much higher, unconsciously the fiddling + seemed to her rather more of a small business. She told him + he ought to be more ambitious. + </p> + <p> + One night Haldane had played to Ida—he resented so her + name Ida—parts of the score of a light opera he had + been at work on for years;—he would never play it on + the boarding-house piano. + </p> + <p> + The moment was as vivid for Haldane now as it was then. He + could hear again her brisk cheerful voice when he had + finished and was waiting—more hopeful than he had ever + yet been with her: "That's <i>pretty</i>. It's + funny—isn't it, dear?—to think you made it up out + of your own head. I never <i>could</i> + understand—Leonard, have you got entirely rid of your + sore throat?—Why don't you try to sell some of your + little tunes?" + </p> + <p> + The disappointment of it all, for an instant, had brought + angry tears to his eyes. He remembered now just the bitter + hopelessness of feeling how she had failed him—and the + remembrance hurt anew. That night he had seen almost clearly + how it was to be with him and her in all the years to come. + </p> + <p> + There was, in Haldane's subsequent attitude toward the + question of his marriage to Ida Locke, nothing worth the name + of heroic. Indeed, looked at from the commonplace, critical + standpoint, the situation was not so bad. It was Haldane's + personal conception of it which caused the difficulty. + Probably it was his sense of fairness to <i>her</i> which + made him accept matters quietly—as he did accept them. + It was his comfort to-day, out of all the ruck of his + artificial self-reproach, that Ida had never known—as + he said—how he felt toward her. + </p> + <p> + "She never knew," he repeated often, "she never knew. She + couldn't, I'm sure. Thank God for that!" + </p> + <p> + What she had never known was, in Haldane's mind, his real + idea of her as his wife. For he had been very kind; he had + patiently let her look out for him; he had kept the fret of + his heart off his tongue, and the sulkiness of his temper off + his face. What he had not succeeded in doing, however, was to + keep the hurt of his soul out of his eyes. So they had gone + on with it for the two years, with a prospect of going on + with it forever, Haldane growing daily quieter, more + reserved, if anything more gently kind, and more pathetically + hopeless. With Ida it was, rather, a large, legitimate outlet + for all the sensibleness, practicality, capable qualities, + she so generously possessed. It seemed to her, when she knew + her child was coming, that she was wonderfully reaching the + culmination of womanhood and wifehood. Yet, after all, it had + been but just death for Ida. + </p> + <p> + All this was running through Haldane's brain as he sat, on + the day after his wife's burial, before her little oak desk. + And the result he had to make out of it was always the same: + </p> + <p> + "I'm glad it's over. I'm <i>glad</i>." + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + The room seemed less burdensome when he came back to it late + that night. Oppressed with the hatefulness of his attitude of + the afternoon, Haldane had seized his hat and had fled out + into the streets. He had dined at a restaurant, a thing he + had not done in years, and had listened to a bad orchestra + play cheerful tunes—tunes that somehow livened him up, + stayed comfortably in his mind afterwards. Every one he saw + seemed so happy. He assured himself that happiness—a + quiet content, at least—was to be <i>his</i> now. Why + not? Why disguise the fact that he was really, underneath, + glad? So he smiled and lingered and sipped his coffee, + feeling suddenly the beautiful realization that he was again + of the world—irresponsible, careless. Coming back into + the dull flat was not half the gloomy effort he had fancied + it was going to be. For one blessed thing, he came when he + chose. Besides, something had given him a sense of his right, + his cheerful right, to be as he liked, what he liked. Haldane + went about the tiny rooms humming gently; he played softly on + the piano some old love-songs he had composed when he was + twenty—things <i>she</i> had never heard. + </p> + <p> + Presently he sat down, lighted a fresh cigarette, and set + himself to thinking out matters anew. + </p> + <p> + "It was a mistake, that's all," he said, at last. "And that's + plain. A mistake for me. But now it's all over and done with. + There's nothing to be got out of this endless accusing and + regret over something that couldn't be helped—helped, + at least, after it was once started.... I'll always wear my + hurt of it; that I know. It hurts like the devil to think I + didn't—couldn't—give her the love she ought to + have had. If there were any way—any possible way of + reparation, ... but I suppose there isn't. Nothing except to + live decently and honorably—if that's reparation. Thank + God, 'tisn't as if there were any other woman mixed up in + it—I haven't got that to worry me at any rate. I wonder + whether a man gets his punishment for—but no, you can't + help feeling, and being, and loving, just as it comes. It's + this dreadful unconventionality of—not really + liking—loving a person you are supposed to love that + warps your judgment. And we lie about it to ourselves and to + others till when we have to face the real truth we go all to + pieces.... But, just the same, I'd feel so much easier if + there <i>were</i> only some way I could make it up to Ida now + that she's gone. Poor Ida, poor Ida." + </p> + <p> + Haldane's eyes strayed to the little, cheap desk again, and + for a moment the distress of the afternoon was renewed. But + he resolutely threw off the accusing mood he so feared. There + was a pile of letters lying there—letters that he had + had neither the time nor the heart to look into for the past + week. He picked them up now with relief at finding something + tangible to be done. Most of them were letters of consolation + and sympathy for him from his friends and hers; the worn + phrases one can so little avoid in such missives touched him + with a sense of their dual ineffectuality. Other letters were + addressed to Ida—commonplace messages and bills which + she had not been able to open. And there was one from her + mother—written evidently before she had heard of her + daughter's imminent illness and death. This last Haldane laid + aside until he had finished the others; and even then he + looked at it long and somewhat tenderly before he opened it. + </p> + <p> + "It must have come very hard to her; Ida was all she had," he + considered. "It must have been very hard." He thought of the + tear-stained, illegible letter Ida's mother had sent him + after she had had his telegram. An illness had prevented her + from coming to the funeral; and she lived so far away, + somewhere in Iowa. Her heart was bleeding for <i>him</i>, she + wrote. Her own loss was almost blotted out in the thought of + <i>his</i> terrible grief. He had never finished + it—that letter; he could not. Such words had seemed too + sacred for him to read, feeling as he did. So he had torn it + up. + </p> + <p> + "Ida was very good to her mother," he reflected; "at least + she was conscientiously always trying to do her best by her, + support her and all that. She took it awfully as a + duty—but she did it." + </p> + <p> + Once, after they were married, Ida had gone back, for six + months, to the private school that she might have money to + send her mother in a sudden financial stress. Haldane thought + of that, too, with keen regret that he had not been able to + earn the necessary money himself—he was ill that + winter. Yes, surely, Ida had been splendid in the matter of + her mother. "It's a pity that things weren't so that Ida's + mother could have come to see us here in New York," Haldane + said, as he opened the envelope—"come before Ida died." + The letter itself was not long. When he had finished with + it—and this only after a third reading—he laid it + down slowly and stared silently at the fine old-fashioned + characters. + </p> + <p> + "Great God!" he said at last, gently, "the poor old lady!" + </p> + <p> + "My dear daughter," ran the letter, "mother is so sorry to + have to tell you this now when all your thoughts and energies + must be centred on the wonderful event so soon to happen. It + seems to me I've always been calling on you for help and you + have done so much. Oh, it hurts me to have to worry and + distress you now, dear. + </p> + <p> + "The truth is that Mr. Liddell is going to foreclose the + mortgage on the house. He says he cannot wait longer than a + week or two. I've tried every way to get the interest, but I + can't do it. The little I had left, your cousin George + invested for me, and now he tells me—I don't understand + it at all—that it's quite lost. I know you'll say I was + foolish to let George have it, but he promised so + much—and George has been so good to me. I won't ask you + and Leonard to give me a home; that would be unfair to you + both. I'm so distressed and upset. Write me, if you can, and + tell me what you think is best." And there was more in the + same distressed key. + </p> + <p> + Haldane was as near his decision, perhaps, when he laid down + the letter as hours afterward when he stumbled to bed. It was + strangely clear to him—the attitude he was to assume. + Not that he did not make a fight of it, and a sharp fight. + But, after all, he knew from the first how it was destined to + end. + </p> + <p> + "I asked for my chance to make it up to her," he muttered. + "Well, I've got it, haven't I? Isn't this it? If where + <i>she</i> is she knows to-night that I never loved + her—sometimes even hated her—then she knows that + I'll try to pay it back to her in the only way I can. I'll + bring her mother here to live with me.... My God! and I + wanted so the <i>freedom</i> of it all again, just to feel + <i>free</i>.... No, this is it—my way—I'll take + it. It's what I owe Ida. I can't reason it out logically and + I dare say the world would put it straight that I didn't have + to do this—take her mother—but I will. I wouldn't + feel right about it in this life or in any next if I didn't. + Yes, that's the reparation." + </p> + <p> + Haldane's last thought before he slept that night, as it was + in the fortnight before she came, was, "What is Ida's mother + like? I wonder if—she is like—like Ida?" + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + It had been six months—a whole winter and + more—since Ida's mother had come to live with Leonard + Haldane. And altogether unexpectedly it had been, for + Haldane, quite the most beautiful winter he had ever spent. + As for Ida's mother—well, when she was alone her eyes + were constantly filling with tears—tears of + thankfulness that the Lord had sent her, in the language of + her frequent prayers of gratitude, a son to stay the + declining years of her life—a son to her who had so + wanted a son all these years. + </p> + <p> + Haldane could never forget that night he had gone, with sharp + misgivings, to the station to meet Mrs. Locke. "I suppose I'm + a fool," he had muttered, as he paced miserably up and down + the draughty, smoky enclosure where her train, already very + late, was to come in. "But it's my debt to the dead I'm going + to pay." He added a moment later: "What I shall hate most of + all, what will be hardest to bear, will be her endless + sympathy. For she won't know—she'll never + know—just how it was between Ida and me." + </p> + <p> + He was to look for a "little dried-up, frightened woman in a + black bonnet, with a handkerchief in her left hand"—so + Mrs. Locke had written him. Haldane had smiled at the frank + characterization—that, somehow, didn't sound like Ida's + spirit in her mother. + </p> + <p> + She was the last to come out through the iron gate. Almost he + had given her up, she had delayed so long. A little, + dried-up, frightened woman in a black bonnet—that was + she. Like a tiny, stray cloud, very nervous and out of place. + Her face was white with fatigue, the excitement of the + journey, and the thought of how she should meet—ought + she to call him Leonard? And when Haldane saw her he suddenly + smiled boyishly—as if there could be such a thing as a + problem over this scared, half-tearful, ridiculously + pathetic, white-haired old woman with a black-bordered + handkerchief in her shaking left hand. + </p> + <p> + Before he considered it he had said gently, "Well, + mother—" + </p> + <p> + The tears in her eyes welled over as she gasped in a whisper, + "My boy!" + </p> + <p> + So, after all, there was no awkward, conscious period of + adjustment for the two. They took up their life simply and + quite as if it were no new thing to them both—as if + they had come together again after a long separation. And it + was, perhaps, in a way, just that—a coming together of + elements that had long been kept apart. "She's not like Ida," + Haldane kept saying to himself. + </p> + <p> + "You're just like a mother in a storybook; the kind you + always want when you read about them," Haldane often told + her. "You know, I never had one—one that I remember; + mine died so long ago." + </p> + <p> + "And you—you're—quite my son," she would answer + shyly, her voice trembling with the joy of it. It was such a + regret to her that she hadn't Leonard's readiness of speech + and the courage to break down her reserve—for she + wanted to tell him, as she said to herself, just how she + felt, just how good he was to her. + </p> + <p> + So it was a beautiful winter for them both. Naturally there + was the fact of Ida that had to be faced. That was + tremendously hard at first. He constantly felt her grieving + for him, for the failure of all his hopes, the wreck of all a + man holds so precious. And there were all the details of + Ida's sickness and death to be gone over with her + mother—the things she had done just before. How she + looked; the quantity of flowers; even what she wore for her + burial. Instinctively Haldane knew how dear these matters + were to her, and he went over them faithfully, effacing his + own bitterness of memory as best he might. When Mrs. Locke + hesitatingly asked him one evening if—if Ida + had—had <i>said</i> anything—left any message for + <i>her</i>, Haldane's heart ached for her; Ida had left no + message. He softened it as best he might. + </p> + <p> + "You see, she didn't know, couldn't know, that—that she + was going to die. It was all so sudden, you know, so awfully + sudden." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Locke nodded. "Yes—I see. Poor Ida! She did so + much for me always." + </p> + <p> + After a month or so, quite unconsciously, they ceased to + mention Ida. Haldane, when he thought of it at all—and + that with relief—wondered vaguely why Ida's mother did + not talk more about her. "Perhaps it's because she doesn't + want to keep hurting me," he thought it out, "bless her!" + </p> + <p> + Gradually the intimacy between Haldane and his + mother—for she was quite that to him—grew into a + relation that was as rare as it was tender. They both felt it + keenly. Their talk was all of him, his affairs, his music. He + played to her for hours in the evenings he was not at the + orchestra; when he was teaching in the mornings she would + steal into the room, and sit, sewing, in a corner, listening + gratefully to the dreary routine of his pupils' exercises. + She seemed never to tire of "being near Leonard." And always + she was asking, "Won't you play a little from <i>the + opera</i>, Leonard?" + </p> + <p> + Once she said to him, with her timid smile: "It's like + heaven, having so much music all the time. Seems as if all my + life I've been just starved to death for tunes." + </p> + <p> + Haldane bent and kissed her white hair. "Well, mother," he + laughed, "it's quite a real piece of heaven to have you + around the place." + </p> + <p> + "You're spoiling me," she cried; "how can I ever go back to + Iowa?" + </p> + <p> + "Who said Iowa in this house?" he demanded of her. "You're to + stay always—as long as you can stand + me—<i>always</i>." + </p> + <p> + "My son!" she kept murmuring after he had gone, as if she + loved the words on her lips. "He's just the kind of son I + used to hope I might have," she sighed. "I don't + see—it's so strange why he's so good to me. I'm not at + all like <i>her</i>. Ida was so sensible always, and I'm not + at all—Ida always told me I couldn't take care of + myself, that I was very foolish. I don't see why Leonard is + so kind to me. It must he just because I'm her mother. + Leonard must have loved her so much, and understood her. Poor + Ida!" + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + The spring had broken through its first slender greenish film + into the freshness of its young beauty. The sense of faint, + far voices endlessly calling was in the air. Again the + windows of the little flat were opened and again the + afternoon sun warmed to golden green the new growth of leaves + on the horse-chestnut in the rectangular enclosure outside. + </p> + <p> + Haldane had never felt so splendidly the birth of new + things—in himself and in the world. All the morning he + had been constantly picking up his violin, playing what he + called his "Spring-feelings"— unrhythmic wild snatches + of melody. + </p> + <p> + "God! it's good, good, <i>good</i>," he cried, throwing back + his head. "Good to have lived out of it all into this." + </p> + <p> + "Mother," he called presently, "what on earth are you doing + there all alone? Come out and play with me. You've looked + over those old books and papers, spring-cleaned your old + closets, too long. If you don't come out at once, I'll come + and drag you out bodily—I will indeed." + </p> + <p> + He ran to her door in another moment, and flinging it open + wide, he called: "If you will insist on being led + forth—Why, mother, what is it? what's the matter? + <i>What is it?</i> Are you <i>ill</i>? Why—" + </p> + <p> + She sat on a low stool drawn up close to her bed. Her hands + were clasped straight out before her over a little book bound + in faded imitation red leather—a little book Haldane, + on the instant, with curious alertness, knew as one of Ida's + old school note-books. On her face was a look so bewildered, + so grieved, so terror-stricken almost, that Haldane suddenly + ceased to speak. She raised her eyes to him with the pleading + of a hurt animal. For a time neither uttered a word. And + then, all at once, it seemed to Haldane as if he <i>knew</i>. + His gaze fell hesitatingly. When, at last, he spoke, it was + in a very gentle voice. + </p> + <p> + "Mother—is it anything we can talk out + together—now?" + </p> + <p> + She shook her head dumbly, the tears gathering in her eyes. + "Oh, Lennie!" she whispered, finally, as if he were a little + boy. "It isn't true, is it?" + </p> + <p> + Haldane did not reply. She reached out the little red book to + him slowly. "You'd—you'd better read it. I—found + it—this afternoon." + </p> + <p> + He took the book, without wonder, and went back, softly + closing the door on her. Unconsciously he sat down before the + little, cheap, oak desk—Ida's desk—and began to + read. It was, perhaps, two hours afterward when he had + finished. The room was dark and very still. + </p> + <p> + "So she knew," he said, slowly. "After all, she knew. And I + never guessed." His head sank down on his arms. + </p> + <p> + It was a curious inconsistency in the mind of Ida Locke which + had prompted her to write in that red-covered note-book just + what she had written. No one would have guessed the secret + strain of introspection in her, nor guessed the impulse which + led her to put into writing her hidden life. Unless, indeed, + that introspection and that impulse are always part of the + intuitions of love—yielded to or not, as may be. The + entries were scattered—as if put down when the stress + of feeling had overcome her. They ranged over the two years + of their married life. In each one she had seemed, with a + startling lucidity, to have apprehended exactly her husband's + state of mind toward her. She had written freely, baldly, + without excess of sentimentality. "I know he hates me + sometimes; I see it in his eyes." Again: "He is hideously + kind." "He lives in a mental room that I can't break into." + In another place it ran: "Why is it? I am his mental equal; + his superior in education. I'm his wife and he asked me to + marry him. And yet he can't bear to have me near him. He + hates me to-day." "I'm afraid," she wrote again, "how Leonard + will regard our child. If he should hate it, too. Perhaps we + shall both not live through it." And so it ran on, with awful + candor. + </p> + <p> + "I'm so sorry she had to know," Haldane sighed again and + again. "And, now, what's to be the end of it? What will Ida's + mother do? Lord God, she'll never forgive me—never." + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + Late that night Mrs. Locke came in. Haldane had scarcely + stirred from his chair. The note-book lay open before him on + the desk. He looked at her compassionately, for now his + thoughts were all for the shrinking, hurt woman beside him. + She had never before seemed so fragile, so dependent, and yet + he could not but mark in her hearing a new resolution of + forces, a dignity as of a stern decision. Haldane did not + wait for her to question. + </p> + <p> + "You will want to know," he began, wearily, "if all this + written here is true. All this Ida wrote down. You want to + ask me that? It's—it's all true, quite true." He + waited, but she gave no sign. "Quite true; I—I suppose + it wouldn't be worth while for me to explain things now. You + will think I've lied to you all along. In a way, I have. No, + I suppose you don't want to hear me make futile explanations, + excuses." + </p> + <p> + "If there—there is anything to be said, Leonard, you + had better say it—now," she answered, nervously, + twisting her handkerchief in her fingers. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated painfully. "Everything I might say seems to be + trying to shift the load from my shoulders on + to—another's," he said, at last. "It was a + mistake—that's all. A mistake for us. Before it + began—our marriage—it was different, but + afterward—She was very good to me; looked after me and + all that, but—Oh, I'm afraid I'm only hurting you the + worse by saying all this. You won't, you can't understand. + Let it be that it was all my fault. It was, it was. Believe + that, please.... And I know you won't want to stay here with + me any longer—after this. I quite understand that. A + man who—who felt as she wrote it all down + here—such a man you wouldn't, you couldn't—" He + stopped hopelessly. "I can't bear to have you go," he burst + out, impulsively. "Where will you go? Back there to Iowa?" + </p> + <p> + She nodded sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + "And have no more music? And—and—oh, it's cruel. + <i>Why</i> had you to find it out? It didn't matter anyway + when it was all done with. Why <i>did</i> you have to know? + ... And you haven't any money. You must let me help you. Let + me do that—just that. Can't you forget it all enough + for that? Surely you've liked me—for what you've liked + in me, let me help you. Great heavens, if I thought of you + alone out there, without money—<i>Must</i> you go?" + </p> + <p> + Haldane was fast losing control of himself. With an effort he + pulled himself together and tried to smile. + </p> + <p> + "You're right to go," he said. "Right. You wouldn't want + anything to do with me now." + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her, though loath to meet her eyes. There was + a wonderful pity in her face. "Don't!" he cried, sharply, not + understanding. + </p> + <p> + "I want to say this," he broke out again, almost roughly. "I + never guessed that she knew how I felt toward her. I wasn't + cruel or beastly—I was kind. They say that's cruelty, + too. I tried—my God! how I tried!—never to let + her know the truth. That's all I can say for myself; ... + you'd better go." + </p> + <p> + She was so silent that at last he faced her again. She was + crying softly, and, it appeared, without bitterness. Haldane + stared at her curiously. + </p> + <p> + "I wanted to know that—that last you said," Mrs. Locke + gasped, with difficulty. "I—I—I've been thinking + it all over in my room. It's very hard to say—please + let me go on with it just as I can, I—I've said I + wanted to hear that last. But I knew it—in my + heart—all the time. I knew you couldn't be cruel to a + living thing. And—and—somehow— it + changed—things. I've had such a terrible struggle all + alone. I've tried to pray over it and—oh, I'm afraid + I'm very wrong and very wicked—I almost know I am." Her + voice sank to a whisper. "But—oh, Leonard ... somehow I + just seemed to feel inside me just how you felt, just + how—it was with you those two years. Oh, it's a + dreadful thing to say, isn't it? Poor Ida! She was so good to + me, and yet sometimes—" The trembling old woman's voice + faltered and broke. + </p> + <p> + Haldane's eyes were full of tears. A great light was slowly + breaking for him. He dared not speak. + </p> + <p> + "Don't think I'm a wicked old woman, Leonard; I never even + guessed—till I came here—how I felt. And then you + were like a son—my son—the boy I wanted so, + and—I loved the music so, and being with you, more than + anything I ever knew—it doesn't seem as if—" + </p> + <p> + Haldane put his hand on hers gently, "As if you could go away + now?" + </p> + <p> + She turned to him with a little sad smile, and in her face + was a sweet dignity. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I cannot go—now, my son." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="THE YEARLY TRIBUTE"></a> + <h2> + THE YEARLY TRIBUTE + </h2> + <h3> + BY ROSINA HUBLEY EMMET + </h3> + <p> + "For science is a cruel mistress. She exacts a yearly tribute + of flesh and blood like the dragons of ancient pagan + mythology." + </p> + <p> + The eminent scientist paused momentarily here and viewed the + earnest young faces before him. In this poetic figure of + speech he saw fit to present to them the hardships of the + life they had chosen to embark upon. It was a hot June + morning, and the heavy scent of syringa came in through the + high uncurtained windows of the lecture-hall. All the + students stared with reverence at this distinguished + stranger, who had come a long distance to speak to the + graduating class; and one of its members sighed deeply and + turned his eyes to the window, and watched some maple leaves + moving languidly against the blue sky. The lecturer heard his + sigh, saw him fall into abstraction, realized the peculiar + character of his face; and marked him as a man who would + serve to the end, possibly becoming one of the victims of + that cruel mistress. + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + Pilchard and Swan had stopped to rest in the middle of the + plaza. The black Mexican night was falling and a few stars + blossomed in the sky, but there was no abatement in the heat + which had held since sunrise; rather, indeed, the thickness + of the atmosphere seemed intensified. The two Americans, who + had spent a whole year in Mexico and become accustomed to the + climate, attempted to make themselves comfortable. Pilchard + sank to a dilapidated bench and lighted a cigarette; and + Swan, not having even sufficient spirit to smoke, stretched + himself bodily on the flat stones which paved the plaza, and + placed his old hat upon his upturned face. + </p> + <p> + Both young men seemed depressed, and without speaking they + listened to the moaning of the ocean which heaved and + glistened in the distance; and when Pilchard finally said, + "So poor Murphy is gone too," and Swan responded, "His + troubles are over, poor fellow," it showed how completely + they had been absorbed in the same thought. + </p> + <p> + "And Mulligan last week," Pilchard continued, "and all the + others who went before, and Peele taken sick this afternoon. + Swan, we're the only white men left." + </p> + <p> + "And we've only got ten days left." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I guess we can do it, so long as we're out of the + swamp." + </p> + <p> + "So long as the swamp isn't in us." + </p> + <p> + They were alluding to the railroad they had come to Mexico to + build. The time-limit given in the contract would expire in + ten days, and it would be a race to get the tracks through + the town and down to the new docks in that time. Swan, + whenever he thought of it, became restless, and now he sat up + with a jerk, and his old hat slipped off his face. Even in + that dim light Swan's ugliness was apparent. He measured over + six feet and was loose-jointed and ungainly; he had big flat + feet, and big bony, capable hands; and his features, which + were big and bony too, seemed in proportion to nothing but + his general ungainliness. Swan was an inventive Yankee with + no background and no tradition. He could not even claim the + proverbial Connecticut farm. His people had been dreary + commercials in a middle-sized New Hampshire town, and he had + worked his way through college to fit himself for a + scientific career. His memory of his deceased parents was so + colorless that it seemed to Swan as if they had never + existed, and his contacts had been so dull, his outlook so + dreary, that he had almost no conception of beauty. His plain + college room, where, by the hour, he had worked out + mathematical problems, and a grimy engine-room (which was the + next stage of his advancement), where he had stood in a + greasy black shirt, surrounded by an unceasing whir of + machinery, and bossed a gang of men—these had been the + things which had substituted for him romance and passion and + life; and finally, when Pilchard, a college friend, had + persuaded him to come down to Mexico and build a railroad, he + had taken off his greasy black shirt and gone, principally + because this was such a big undertaking, and it would + undoubtedly in the end lead to something very much bigger. + </p> + <p> + The company which was causing the railroad to be built had + established large exporting-houses in San Francisco, which + sent down certain articles of merchandise to Mexico, and the + railroad was designed to transport this freight from one of + the southwestern seaport towns to the city of Mexico. The + undertaking included the erection of docks with swinging + elevators to lift the freight from the vessels and deposit it + in the cars, and as the pay was very large and Pilchard was + an adventurous soul, he undertook the job when it was offered + to him, and going to the manager's office, impressed him with + his boldness and ability, and signed his name to the + contracts without reading them through; then gayly, and + feeling no uneasiness, he buttoned his coat over the neatly + folded paper and went to see Swan. + </p> + <p> + Swan, in a greasy black shirt, was in the engine-room, hard + at work, and he was just about to reprimand one of the men + when Pilchard came in. Although it was early in May, a spell + of precocious heat had taken New York by the throat, and what + with the whir of rapidly turning wheels, and the smell of hot + machine-oil and perspiring men, there was something filthy + and degraded about the atmosphere. Swan suddenly realized + this, although it was the only atmosphere he knew anything + about. Glancing upward, he saw a little patch of blue sky + through the top of one of the grimy windows ... a white cloud + sailed past ... and then another ... something akin to + longing welled in his heart, something like a wave of despair + and hope, a desire to lift himself into a higher and less + degraded world.... He looked toward the door and saw + Pilchard, and crossing the room, he greeted him warmly and + read the contract Pilchard pulled from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + "That's a queer business," said Swan, when he had finished. + </p> + <p> + "How so?" + </p> + <p> + "Man alive, haven't you read what you've signed your name + to?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly I've read it." + </p> + <p> + "And you think you can put the job through in a year?" + </p> + <p> + "Why not?" asked Pilchard, with his "cock-sure" smile. + </p> + <p> + Swan, like every one else, was taken in by this smile, and to + convince himself he read the contract again, out loud this + time, and in a thoughtful way. Pilchard listened. + </p> + <p> + The contract guaranteed that a railroad covering two hundred + and fifty miles, between the city of Mexico and the little + seaport of Zacatula, on the Pacific Ocean, would be built and + completed in one year's time, work starting on the 25th of + June. Docks and freight-elevators were included in the work, + and if the tracks were not in fit condition for the trains to + run by the date specified, every penny of the very large pay + would be forfeited by the builders. A strange contract, + indeed! Pilchard, however, as he heard it read, betrayed by + no sign that he was as much surprised as Swan. + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Swan, looking up and meeting that "cock-sure" + smile, "you think you can do it in a year?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm certain I can." + </p> + <p> + "Of course," Swan continued, not yet convinced, "it's the + worst country on earth; full of swamp and yellow fever." + </p> + <p> + "I'll run in a gang of Mexican Indians to lay the ties. They + can stand their own climate." + </p> + <p> + "But you'll have to take down some white men, too, good + fellows who know the business. You can't be the only man to + do the bossing. It'd kill you." + </p> + <p> + All this time Pilchard was closely watching Swan, and almost + unconsciously something had been growing in his mind. Swan + had an ugly, resolute face, and endurance seemed to be + expressed in every line of his body. Behind him the engine + roared, and spit steam, and ground out the produce of a great + city factory; his face and hands were grimy and covered with + grease, and the black cinders around his deep-set eyes gave + him a terrible, deathly look. Pilchard saw instantly that he + must have Swan to do the work. He must take him down to + Mexico or else the railroad would never be built. Swan would + come, too, because there was a look of tragic fatigue in his + deep-set eyes, an expression of sick nausea in the lines + about his mouth, that showed how gladly he would change, how + completely he had come to the end of his hopes here; so + Pilchard suggested with a careless smile that they go down to + Mexico together. "Of course," he said, "I don't say that it + mightn't be better for me to do it alone—two heads to a + job, you know, isn't always a good arrangement; but you've + got a pretty mean berth here. It'll take years for you to get + a rise, and you're wasting your youth and health shut up with + this filthy gang of men. This job of mine would push you + right along, and you'll get others like it. Better come." + </p> + <p> + Swan reflected. His work was the only thing on earth that he + cared for, and to progress in his work, to keep putting + through more and more difficult jobs, was what he had always + aimed to do. But had he a right to take advantage of + Pilchard's generosity? He glanced around the room, conscious + of the incessant chattering of the different parts of the + engine, which he must keep going in order to turn out the + produce of a great city factory. He was no more here than one + of the many parts of that engine, and if some day he should + be absorbed into the midst of those whirring wheels and + ground up like corn, who would ever be the wiser? + </p> + <p> + So he went. + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + "Had a letter from the company today," Pilchard observed, + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + "That so?" + </p> + <p> + "They're going to send a fellow down from Frisco on the + steamer that touches on the 25th. Everything plays into their + hands. Steamer reaches here the day the contract expires." + </p> + <p> + "Well, that's all right." + </p> + <p> + "They request that I meet the fellow and show him around." + </p> + <p> + "That's easy, too." + </p> + <p> + Pilchard breathed smoke through his nose in his + self-possessed way, and said nothing more, until Swan + suddenly broke out: + </p> + <p> + "Well, I for one won't be sorry to get out of this hole. I'll + get the job done, of course, but we've just had a terrible + setback. I think Peele's dying." + </p> + <p> + "Lord!" + </p> + <p> + "I came away from him only half an hour ago. He may last + through the night, but I doubt it. Anyhow, if he lives or + dies, we're devilish pressed for time. I'm beginning to think + we'll have to work at night, too." + </p> + <p> + "At night?" + </p> + <p> + "There's a full moon. Here she comes now." Swan looked at the + full moon, which, as the darkness increased, grew in + radiance. + </p> + <p> + Pilchard breathed more smoke through his nose, then said with + a sigh: "That's hard luck, Swan. I'm sorry." + </p> + <p> + "Hey?" + </p> + <p> + "And yet it's a lucky thing that you're as strong as you are. + It's a lucky thing you haven't got the responsibilities at + home that I have." + </p> + <p> + "I don't see what you mean." + </p> + <p> + "Why, you know I'm engaged! I'm as good as married. That poor + girl's got everything ready for the wedding. You met her that + day last year you came up to Maine before we left New York." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I met her." + </p> + <p> + "And you remember how much she thought of me?" Pilchard spoke + slowly. It was impossible to tell why he did so. Was it + because he did not care to discuss the woman he loved with an + outsider like Swan, or was it because he was going on tiptoe, + because he wondered what he must say next, because he was + waiting, hoping that something unexpected would develop? + </p> + <p> + Swan, however, dropped the question of Pilchard's marriage. + </p> + <p> + "You mean, I suppose, that you won't work at night." + </p> + <p> + "I can't. I'm not well enough." + </p> + <p> + Swan grunted and sighed and stretched all his limbs, shaking + his great shoulders as if he were trying to shake out the + ague. Then he cleared his throat again and turned to + Pilchard. + </p> + <p> + "See here, Pilchard, it's time we came to some + understanding." + </p> + <p> + "Understanding?" Pilchard queried in a surprised voice. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, about this job. About the pay—m—not so much + the pay as the credit. This job ought to give a man a name. + It's been a big piece of engineering and devilish hard work + to put it through. I've planned the whole thing and watched + every stroke of what's been done, and I deserve at least half + the credit, if not all." + </p> + <p> + Swan spoke in a brutal, masterful way. Perhaps he realized as + he did so how completely the acknowledgment of his services + depended on Pilchard's generosity. Pilchard alone had signed + the contract, and Swan's existence was no more to the company + than the existence of the other workmen. Moreover, the eleven + mechanics they had brought down had all been carried off by + fever, and there was no one else who, in case of necessity, + could testify to the splendid work Swan had done, practically + alone. All this was in Pilchard's mind as well as Swan's, and + all this suddenly showed Pilchard how completely Swan was in + his power. He must play a careful game. + </p> + <p> + "Why, what the devil do you mean?" he asked, speaking rather + angrily. + </p> + <p> + "What do I mean? I mean that this is all too unbusinesslike. + It's too vague. I'm risking my life to put this business + through, and I want to get what I deserve. It's the biggest + thing I've ever done, and I won't do it for nothing." + </p> + <p> + "For nothing? Man alive, you're almost accusing me of + dishonesty! I told you when we started out that I'd give you + half the pay. If I'd ever supposed you didn't trust my word + I'd have had it drawn up on paper. And as for the credit, you + deserve it all, and you'll get it all ... and that's all." + </p> + <p> + Pilchard ended with a self-conscious laugh, and got up to go + indoors and take a few drinks before he went to bed. He stood + for a moment, uncertainly, before Swan, wondering with a + strange distrust, which lately had been growing upon him, + what Swan really thought. Swan was so silent and reserved, + and he worked with such unflinching constancy, that Pilchard + often felt as if he too must be developing some plan. It was + fortunate, he told himself, that there were only ten days + more. His nerves could not have held out much longer; but + after he had filled himself with several drinks and was + sitting in gauzy pajamas beside an open window, things began + to look brighter. Ten days might develop unheard-of things. + To work all night on the borders of a swamp in this rainy + season, which is almost certain death for a white + man—Pilchard closed his eyes and peacefully slept.... + </p> + <p> + Swan continued to sit on the bench, and throwing back his + head, looked at the sky. A full moon swung above him, huge + and tropical and red, seeming to garnish the black depths + that lay behind it and that great black mouth that opened + immeasurably into the west. All his actual surroundings faded + away, and, as is often the case with men at these moments, he + thought of a woman that he had seen once and had never + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + That cool summer day just a year ago that he had spent on the + coast of Maine, whither he had gone to see Pilchard about + some final arrangements for their journey to + Mexico—Pilchard had introduced him to the girl he was + going to marry, and it had somehow happened that he and she + had taken a short walk together along a cliff where some + pines were growing, and which looked forlornly enough across + the solitary ocean. Nothing but the most commonplace words + had passed between them; they had talked of Pilchard and his + enterprise, and had stopped to look at the view, and had + gazed out over the rolling waves. He had scarcely dared look + at his companion, but once he had helped her over some rocks, + and he remembered that her foot had slipped, and for an + instant her body had swayed against his. He remembered, too, + that she had pale cheeks and dreamy eyes, and a slim hand + laden with rings that held back her skirts. This slight + experience had made a changed man of him. New senses existed + for him, new hopes for the future that turned him dizzy, a + splendid and deeper insight into life. The sordid realities + of his life no longer claimed all his thoughts; they were + beautified by rare and exquisite dreams, and by repetitions + of that strange welling of hope and despair which had come to + him in the grimy engine-room. After all, there were things in + the world other than engines and boilers and steel tracks; + there were plenty of uses for him besides calculating and + experimenting and bossing a lot of filthy men. He, too, could + serve and wait and hope and ... die! + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + Swan spent the remainder of that night with Peele, and as the + sick man was still alive at sunrise, and Swan was obliged to + oversee the men, he swallowed some coffee and went off, + leaving Pilchard in charge. About noon Pilchard came out to + him with a white face. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter?" Swan asked, full of apprehension. + </p> + <p> + "Peele died before you'd been gone an hour." + </p> + <p> + "We must see to having him buried at once." + </p> + <p> + "He's underground already." + </p> + <p> + "Where we'll all be if we stay much longer." + </p> + <p> + "Where I feel as if I ought to be," Pilchard groaned. + </p> + <p> + "What d'ye mean?" + </p> + <p> + "I mean that I'm about ready to give up. If it wasn't for you + I would give up. I'm as weak as water. I just saw Peele die, + and that finished me. Ugh! It was awful!" + </p> + <p> + And Pilchard, who certainly was pale, drew a flask from his + pocket and took a long drink. He seemed to drink to his own + weakness. He seemed to glory in the fact that he had given + up, and that he knew Swan never would. + </p> + <p> + Swan realized this and looked wearily across the swamp they + had just covered. It was all his work. A narrow mound of + solid earth ran back as far as eye could reach, and on it two + shining steel rails glittered in the blazing sun. On either + side lay wet, poisonous ground covered with deadly growths + and exuding fearful odors and devitalizing forces which even + the heat could not dissipate. In that noonday light which + burned and burned and made no impression on the moisture, + Swan's face was wilted like a white flower which is dead and + turning yellow. His eyes, too, were like things once living + and now dead. The muscles around his mouth twitched like + electric wire. + </p> + <p> + "It isn't possible for me to finish it alone," he told + himself. He knew that he could finish the job by working both + night and day, but could he stand the strain? Had he, after + all, a stronger physique than any other white man had ever + had before? He leaned far back as if he were trying to fold + himself up, and then bent forward in the same manner, trying, + with a desperation like death, to relieve the weakness that + was numbing his limbs. He suddenly felt dizzy as he looked at + the hot distance where some big leaves were + waving—dizzy as he knew that he must fail. + </p> + <p> + "By God!" he exclaimed, striking the pile of dirt. "By God! + I'll do it!" + </p> + <p> + Pilchard put on his hat and smiled. He had been waiting for + this. "If you say you will, I bet you will!" he told Swan. + "That's why you'll always come out ahead." As he said this he + looked intently at Swan, who was still sitting on the pile of + dirt. He noticed for the first time the peculiar look in his + eyes and the trembling of his whole body. + </p> + <p> + Swan sat silent. He saw the dark perspiring bodies of the + Indians who were laying ties, and his lifelong ambition to be + a great engineer suddenly presented itself to him in the old + strong unemotional way. + </p> + <p> + "For science is a cruel mistress. She exacts her yearly + tribute of flesh and blood like the dragons of ancient pagan + mythology." + </p> + <p> + This had been said by an eminent scientist who had addressed + his graduating class. Swan had heard it then and remembered + it now. He clearly remembered that hot June morning ten years + ago. Some young maple leaves had made a lovely pattern on the + blue northern sky outside the uncurtained windows of the + lecture-hall. He remembered that he had looked through the + window and vowed that he would never give up. + </p> + <p> + He organized two bands of men, one to work by moonlight and + one by sunlight; but it was necessary for him to overlook + them both, day and night, so it happened that there were just + two hours in the twenty-four when he could find any rest. + This was when the daily tropical storm broke, late in the + afternoon, and all the workmen scampered for shelter. Swan + crawled into a shanty the men had put up to hold their tools, + and wrapping himself in a blanket, slept until the storm was + over. That is to say, for three or four times he slept, but + gradually he found it impossible to get any rest, and nobody + knew the agonies he endured fighting off the fever, which he + felt had marked him for its own. He never looked forward + longer than twelve hours, thinking always that the next day + would decide his fate, and the next day never did. "If I can + keep it off till to-morrow, I guess it won't come back," he + repeated, mechanically, standing in the moonlight and dosing + himself and bossing the men. But in the morning there was + never any abatement in those deadly symptoms which told him + that the period of incubation would soon be over; and it + almost seemed to him as if his cruel mistress was saving him + in some miraculous way to complete her work, for it was not + until the evening of the ninth day, when the railroad was + finished and the last man paid off, that his temperature rose + to fever-heat, his pulse quickened, and his tongue became + congested, and this demon of the tropical swamp claimed him + for its own. + </p> + <p> + Early on the morning of the 25th, a Pacific mail-steamer + touched at the little port of Zacatula, and a man was put off + who came down from San Francisco to do business for the + company in the event of the railroad not being completed. He + was greatly astonished when Pilchard showed him that the last + day's work had been done. + </p> + <p> + "Then," said the agent, mopping his perspiring bald head, "we + may say that you've carried out the contract to the letter, + to the very minute. You say you only paid off the men last + night?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," answered Pilchard, with his engaging smile, and + casting a possessive glance down the front of his white + trousers. "And it was an awful rush to get the job done." But + in spite of Pilchard's sleek figure and social smile, he + looked pale that morning. The hot sunlight that bathed the + end of the dock met no responsive glow in his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The agent hung his handkerchief over the top of a post to dry + it, and looked more closely at his companion. "Anything the + matter?" he asked, kindly. "You certainly haven't lost + anything on the job?" + </p> + <p> + "No—no." Pilchard brought out that ever-ready smile + that was so delightful. "But it's about time to go home. This + is a terrible climate. We've lost every white man that came + down, eleven all told, except myself and—and—one + other, who's dying over in that shed now. + Maybe—maybe—he's dead—" Pilchard jerked + with his thumb towards a shanty just where the docks joined + the land.... + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + In this rude shanty, knocked together by the workmen to hold + their tools, on a heap of sacks and blankets, Swan lay as he + had dropped the night before. Pilchard had found him there, + and the full moon coming in at the wide opening had revealed + a fearful sight—Swan in the throes of terrific fever, + his face scarlet, his eyes ferrety and congested, and his + swollen tongue lolling between his lips. When he saw Pilchard + he asked in a strange voice for water. Pilchard brought him + some and felt his forehead. It seemed on fire. + </p> + <p> + "Pilchard," began Swan, in a deliberate voice, as if he were + trying to fight off the delirium, "the swamp got into me, + after all. I've taken the fever." + </p> + <p> + Pilchard, appalled by the terrible sight before him, and the + things it suggested, which he could not help but see, leaned + against the rude wall, and for once his self-possession + deserted him. "Swan," he faltered, "Swan—for God's + sake—" + </p> + <p> + "Hush," Swan interposed, in that same deliberate voice. + "Don't lose your head. I'm keeping mine. Am I talking sense?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes, Swan. Perfectly correctly." + </p> + <p> + "Then I'll tell you what to do." Swan spoke more and more + slowly as the fire mounted to his brain and besieged it. + "There's every symptom of fever. You can't deny that." + </p> + <p> + "Symptoms, Swan? I don't see any. You're worn out, poor + fellow. That's all." + </p> + <p> + "Then what's this?" Swan opened his mouth and showed his + scarlet tongue. "And this?" He tore open the breast of his + shirt and showed the congested condition of his skin. "But + I'll fight death as I fought the fever! I'm not going to die. + There's too much for me to do in the world! I'll be a great + engineer. I'll make her proud. I vowed it when we looked out + over the waves and I wanted to take her in my arms. See + here!" and suddenly seizing a pickaxe from the ground beside + him, he swung it around his head and sent it whizzing past + Pilchard's ear, out through the opening of the shanty. "I've + got my muscle and I've got my brain and I'll keep my life. I + deserve to live. I deserve it as payment for putting the job + through. I'll keep my wife here, too, here in the + engine-room, with the pines behind us, and I can look after + the men then. Who's that leaning against the wall? Pilchard? + Poor fool! Why did you boast you were the only man who had + ever loved a woman?" + </p> + <p> + "Me boast! Heaven forbid," faltered Pilchard. + </p> + <p> + "Then," shouted Swan, suddenly sitting up and striking out + with both arms, "take these things away. All these little + black things that are pouring over me. It's a regular shower. + It must be a whole city. No! No! They're sparks! They're + fire! They burn! They burn! Take the wheels away from me! + They're grinding me like corn—oh, Lord! it's heavy, + it's heavy! There, there! It crushes me! Now, now it's over. + This is—death—" And he sank back, oppressed by a + sudden, and overwhelming load of oblivion. + </p> + <p> + Swan grew worse toward morning, and though the disease had + only attacked him at sunset the night before, so rapid and + terrible were its onslaughts that by the time the sun rose a + complete physical collapse had occurred. His pulse had fallen + below normal, and his skin assumed a strange yellow hue, the + color of a lemon, and in these signs and the constant + hiccough which convulsed the death-stricken frame Pilchard + guessed properly what the termination must be. The end would + come easily. Swan had ceased to suffer. + </p> + <p> + When light crept gray and silent into the shanty, Pilchard + stood and looked at Swan's prostrate form. No sound came to + them but the gentle lapping of the waves. Sober as a dove Day + hovered in the sky, and that solemn change which is Death was + somewhere near, hiding and waiting; and Pilchard and Death + and the breaking Day were for one second alone. And Pilchard + was overwhelmed with terror. Some spectre had seized him, and + he could not shake it off. He looked once more at the dying + man, at his closed eyes and his still body, momentarily + convulsed by the final signs of life, like a great piece of + machinery when the steam power is gradually running down. + Then he turned and broke away, to take a bath and to take a + drink and then go to meet the steamer from San Francisco.... + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + "Eleven? You don't say. Fever, I suppose?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes. We tackled three swamps on our way down from Mexico." + </p> + <p> + "That so? Well, it's worth some sacrifice. It's a good job. I + wouldn't 'a' undertaken it myself." + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't do it again." + </p> + <p> + They walked down the dock.... + </p> + <p> + Swan opened his eyes and looked through the wide opening of + the shanty out to where the blazing sun struck the hot water + of the little harbor. He hardly remembered where he was. Oh + yes! He must get up and go down-town. In a minute, when he + was fully awake. And he closed his eyes again and heard the + accustomed whir of machinery, and knew that he was in the + engine-room. One of the workmen needed to be spoken to; he + was the filthiest of the lot, and Swan was the only man who + could control him. Suddenly Swan opened his eyes again and + saw that this same workman had entered the shanty and was + standing beside him. He instantly recognized the man's greasy + black shirt. + </p> + <p> + "For science is a cruel mistress," the man said. "She exacts + her yearly tribute of flesh and blood." + </p> + <p> + But, singularly enough, these words meant something entirely + different. Swan looked curiously at the workman and saw that + he too was really somebody else. The man smiled and, leaning + over, gently raised him up, and for the first time in his + life Swan felt himself encircled by a woman's arms, and he + tasted a strange, delicious joy awakening deep within him + that knowledge of reciprocal love which slumbers in the heart + of every man. + </p> + <p> + "And you did it all for me," she said. + </p> + <p> + "Did what?" he asked her. + </p> + <p> + "Built the road?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," he whispered, closing his eyes again, filled with this + new strange joy. + </p> + <p> + "And now we'll go home together to the North, where the maple + leaves make a lovely pattern against the blue sky." + </p> + <p> + He knew nothing for a minute, and then she spoke again: + </p> + <p> + "Well, it's a good job. I'll see that you get pushed along. + The company 'll have plenty more work; big pay, too. This + business has made your name. You're a wonderful fellow! You + say you worked night as well as day?" + </p> + <p> + "For eight days, yes." + </p> + <p> + It was Pilchard's voice. He was talking to another man. They + were leaning heavily against the rough wall of Swan's shanty. + A horrible sensation came over the sick man, that sensation + experienced by men who emerge from some unnatural mental + condition, who are recalled by one sentence, often by one + word, which acts like a key and opens again to their + terrified vision the horrible realities of actual life. Swan + raised his arms to bring that woman's face close to his, but + he could not find it. He opened his eyes, and tears of + weakness watered his cheeks. He was alone in the hovel + knocked together by the men to hold their tools, and the work + for which he had given his life was being claimed outside by + another man.... + </p> + <p> + The agent leaned against the side of the shanty, gazing + reflectively at his steamer, which was anchored half a mile + from shore. "I'm going clear round to New York. You'd better + get aboard and come with me," he proposed to Pilchard, to + whom he had taken a fancy. "Good Lord!" he suddenly shouted, + leaping forward. "Is this the shed where you said a workman + was dying of fever? Let's get out quick or we'll take the + infection." + </p> + <p> + But Pilchard, pale as death, put up a warning hand. "Yes, + let's clear out—let's get to sea before I go crazy! + But—but—don't speak so loud. <i>He may hear</i>!" + </p> + <p> + He had heard every word. His faculties, numb with death, + sprang instantly into life. He leaped to his feet and left + the shanty, momentarily endowed with his full strength, and + facing the two men, spoke three times: "My work! My work! My + work!" His eyes were on Pilchard all the time, and that look + pierced like a sword; it penetrated to the very foundations + of his being.... + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + Pilchard caught the body as it fell and lowered it to the + ground, and then looked at the agent with a scared face to + see how much he knew. The agent had leaped still farther + away, and now was crouching, livid with fear, before this man + whose last words had been words of delirium. No, he knew + nothing. Pilchard alone knew the extent of his own deceit, + which dead lips could never disclose. He alone knew of that + half-formed idea he had not dared to mature, which had come + to him a year ago when he looked at Swan's resolute face in + the engine-room; and he alone in all the world could ever + know of the terror which had possessed him at daybreak in the + shanty when he had turned in a panic and run away—from + what? ... + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <a name="A MATTER OF RIVALRY"></a> + <h2> + A MATTER OF RIVALRY + </h2> + <h3> + BY OCTAVE THANET + </h3> + <p> + It was the fifth afternoon of St. Kunagunda's fair. An + interlude of semi-rest had come between the clearing up last + night's debris of crowd and traffic, which had filled the + morning, and the renewed crowd and traffic that would come + with the lamps. The tired elderly women in charge of the + supper had sunk into chairs before their clean linen and + dazzling white stone-china dishes and fresh bunches of + lilacs. The pretty young girls at the "fancy table" were + laughing and prattling rather loudly with two amiable young + men who had been tacking home-made lace handkerchiefs and + embroidered "art centres" in the vacant spaces left on the + pink cambric wall by the departure of last night's purchases. + A comely matron kept guard simultaneously over the useful but + not perilously alluring wares of the "household table" and + the adjacent temptations of the flower-stand and the + candy-booth. The last was indeed fair to see, having a + magnificent pyramid of pop-corn balls and entrancing heaps of + bright-colored home-made French candy; and round and round + its delights prowled a chubby and wistful boy, with hands in + his penniless pockets, waiting for the chancellor of the + exchequer. + </p> + <p> + Across the hall, the walls whereof were lavishly decked with + red, white, and blue festoons of cambric, and had the green + and gold of Erin's flag intertwined with the yellow and black + of Germany, stood a table which had been the centre of + interest for four nights, but which now was entirely + deserted. There was no glory of color or pomp of bedizenment + about it; nothing more taking to the eye than a ballot-box + and a small show-case (the contents of the latter draped in + newspapers at the present) and a neatly lettered sign above a + blackboard, to one side. The sign simply demanded, "Vote + Here!" The blackboard in less trim script announced that "For + most popular business man" Mr. Timothy G. Finnerty had 305 + votes, and three or four other candidates so few that there + was no interest in deciphering the chalk figures; and that + "For most popular young lady" Miss Norah Murray had 842 + votes, and Miss Freda Berglund had 603. At intervals some one + of the score of people in the hall would saunter up to the + show-case or to the blackboard, to peer into the one or to + study the figures on the other—although, really, there + was no one in the hall who did not know every line on the + board, and who had not seen both the gold watch and the + gold-headed cane of the show-case. Two women came from + different quarters of the room at the same instant to look at + the blackboard. One was a comely dame in a silken gown that + rustled and glittered with jet. She had just entered the + hall, and was a little flushed with the climb up the stairs. + The other was a stunted, wiry little Irish woman in black + weeds of ancient make. She caught sight of the one in silk + attire and paused. The first-comer also paused. Her color + deepened; her head erected itself more proudly on her + shoulders. Then she continued her progress, halting, with a + dignified and elegant air, before the blackboard. The little + Irish woman tossed her own head and appeared about to follow; + however, her intention changed at a few words from the + guardian of the apron table. She inclined her head, and with + a glance of scorn at the silken back passed on over to the + aprons and quilts. + </p> + <p> + The matrons at the supper-table had viewed the incident with + interest. A little sigh of relief or regret rippled about the + board. + </p> + <p> + "'Tis a great pity, that's sure," said one. + </p> + <p> + "I was there when they had the words," said another. "Mrs. + Conner was saying this voting business was all wrong—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, sure she ain't far out of the way, with this time," + interjected a voice; "bad blood more'n in this instance it's + raised; the whole town's taking sides on it, and there was + two fights yesterday. Why didn't they jest raffle the watch + off decent and peaceable?" + </p> + <p> + "There's some objects to raffling." + </p> + <p> + "There's some objects to drinking tea an' coffee, they're so + bigoted! In a raffle there's nobody pays more'n their + quarter, or maybe a dollar or two—" + </p> + <p> + "And that's it. Look at the power o' money we're gettin', + Mrs. O'Brien dear! We'd <i>niver</i> 'a' got nigh on to four + hundred dollars for a gold watch rafflin'; and well you know + it!" + </p> + <p> + "Maybe," agreed Mrs. O'Brien, grimly, "but neither would we + have got fightin' out of the church and fightin' in it; nor + Pat Barnes be having his head broke. 'Twas hurted awful bad + he was. His own mother told me; and she said Fritz Miller was + sick in bed from it; Pat paid him well for talkin' down ould + Ireland; and poor Terry Flanagin, he lost his job at the + saw-mill for maddin' the boss that's Dutch, and infidel Dutch + at that; and there's quarrels on ivery side, God forgive 'em! + They talk of it at the stores, and they talk of it at the + saloon, where they do be going too often to talk it; and 'tis + a shame an' a disgrace, down to that saloon the dirty + Dutchman—" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Whisht</i>!" three or four mouths puckered in warning, + and Mrs. O'Brien caught the smouldering gaze of a + flaxen-haired woman in very full black skirts and black + basque of an antique cut, who had but now approached the + group; with her race's nimbleness of wit she added, "Sure + there's dirty Germans and there's dirty Irish." + </p> + <p> + "Dere is," agreed the new-comer, with displeasing alacrity, + "und some is in <i>dis</i> parish und dis sodality. I vas + seen dem viping dishes mit a newsbaber. Dot's so. Yesterday + night." + </p> + <p> + An electric thrill ran through the circle, and two matrons, + suddenly very red, answered at once: + </p> + <p> + "Would you have us wipe them on our <i>handkerchiefs</i>? The + towels were all gone!" + </p> + <p> + "'Twas the awful crowd did it; an' 'twas only some saucers + for the ice-cream." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Brien waved her hands, very clean, not very shapely, + and worn by many an honest day's toil, persuading and + pleading for peace at once. "Sure," says she, "if you'd wurrk + at fairs you'd know that you can't be doing things like you'd + do them at home; and 'twas only for a minit they wiped the + saucers with the paper napkins, clean tishy-paper napkins, + Mrs. Orendorf; 'twas only two or three saucers got wiped with + the newspaper, because the napkins was give out and they was + shrieking and clamoring for saucers; and they're + <i>terrible</i>, them young girls! waving their hands and + jumpin' an' squealin'. 'Me first, Mrs. O'Brien!' 'It's + <i>my</i> turn, Mrs. O'Brien!' 'Oh, Mrs. O'Brien, wait on + <i>me</i>. I've got six people haven't had a bite in half an + hour; and they're so cross!' Till your mind's goin'! No doubt + we're makin' money, but I'm for a smaller crowd an' more good + falein'." + </p> + <p> + "It's for der voting dey kooms," grumbled the German woman, + only half pacified. "Dot vas bad mistake haf dot votin'. Vot + vas dot dirty Deutchman you call him do dot make you so mad?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it wasn't so <i>much</i>"—Mrs. O'Brien was still + bent on peace—"he jist telephoned to the next door an' + got the returns, as he called them, and had 'em posted up in + his saloon. An' if they was daughters of mine—I 'ain't + got anny daughters, praise God! for since I seen the way + these waiters go on, I'm misdoubtin' I niver could manage + thim—but if they was daughters of mine, 'twould be the + sorry day for me whin they'd their names posted up in a + saloon!" + </p> + <p> + "Meine fader in der old country kept a saloon," said the + German woman, with extreme dryness of accent, "und does you + mean to say vun vurd against Freda Berglund?" + </p> + <p> + "No, indade," cried Mrs. O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + "And do <i>you</i> mean to say one word against Norah + Murray?" a bolder partisan on the Celtic side struck in, with + a determined air. Three or four voices murmured assent. + </p> + <p> + The German stood her ground. "I nefer seen her till + yesterday"—thus without committing direct assault on + the Murray supporters she avoided concession; "all I know of + her is dot she nefer haf dot gold vatch!" + </p> + <p> + "Then you know more than <i>we</i> do. Norah's ahead, and + she'll be <i>more</i> ahead this evening," retorted a Murray + voter; "there's plenty more money to spend for old + Ireland—ain't there, ladies?" + </p> + <p> + "Whisht!" called the peace-maker, in her turn. "Ain't it easy + to see how Mrs. Conner and Mrs. Finn come to words and hard + falein' when we're nigh that same ourselves, we that + determined to kape out of the worry? They are both awful + nice, pretty young ladies, and I'm sorry such a question come + up between them; and 'tis <i>dreadful</i>, O'Brien says, the + way the young men was spinding their money for Norah last + night. Sure, an' it is that. 'Tis all a bad thing; I think + that like Mrs. Conner." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Orendorf was unable to adjust her mental view to the + varying argument; she cast a sullen and puzzled eye on the + amiable Irish woman, and said, grimly: + </p> + <p> + "It isn't joost yoong mans vot kan spend money. Freda don't + have got no yoong mans, 'cause her Schatz vent to der var und + die py der fever in Florida—" + </p> + <p> + "Sure he did that!" cried Mrs. O'Brien, "an' 'twas a fine man + an' a fine carpenter he was. Aw, the poor girl! I mind how + she looked the day Company E marched out of town, him turnin' + his eyes up sidewises, an' her white as paper but a-smilin'!" + </p> + <p> + "God pity her!" chimed in another matron, with the ready + response to sympathy of the Celt. There was a little murmur + of assent. Mrs. Orendorf's swelling crest fell a little; her + tone was softer. + </p> + <p> + "But Freda got a fader, a goot man, <i>too</i> goot and kind; + he say he vunt haf his dochter look down on like she don't + got no friends. He go and mortgage his farm, und he got + drie—tree hunterd dollar"—she tapped the sum off + her palm with solemn deliberation—"und he svear he vill + in der votin' all, all spend, an' sie git dot vatch. <i>Ach + Himmel! er ist verruckt!</i> He say he got his pension and he + got der insure on his life, und he 'ain't got nobody 'cept + Freda, und he vunt haf Freda look down on. Und <i>sie</i> + don't know. Mans don't can talk mit him; he git mad. He git + mad at <i>me</i> 'cause I talk. <i>Dot's</i> vat der fine + votin' do!" + </p> + <p> + A little gasp from the audience meant more than agreement; + their eyes ran to Mrs. O'Brien, who faced the German and + could see what they saw; then back of Mrs. Orendorf to the + crimson face of a young girl. Mutely they signalled + consternation. + </p> + <p> + But the young girl did not speak; she walked away quickly, + not turning her head as she passed the voting-booth. She was + a pretty girl, with fresh skin, the whiter and fresher + against her abundant silky black hair and black-lashed violet + eyes. She carried her dainty head a little haughtily, but her + soft eyes had a wistful sweetness. Her big flowered hat and + her white gown, brightened by blue ribbons, were as fresh as + her skin and became her rich beauty. She walked with the + natural light grace often seen in girls of her race, whatever + their class. No one could watch the winsome little figure + pass and not feel the charm of youth and frank innocence and + immeasurable hopes. More than one pair of elderly eyes that + had seen the glory and freshness of the dream fade followed + it kindly and with a pensive pride. + </p> + <p> + "Ain't she pretty and slim!" sighed a stout lady in silk + (Mrs. Conner, the most important supporter of the parish, no + less), "and think of me having a waist as little as hers when + I was married! But I wish she hadn't let them drag her into + this voting business, for it has caused trouble." + </p> + <p> + "Norah's as good and sweet's she's pretty," another elderly + woman replied. "Just to think of that young thing supporting + her mother and educating her brother for a priest with only + those pretty little hands! But she won't be doing it long if + the boys can one of them get their way. And what will we do + for a dress-maker then? We never <i>did</i> have such a + stylish one!" + </p> + <p> + "That's so," Mrs. Conner agreed, cordially; "she's the only + one I ever went to didn't make me look fleshier than I am. + But I say it is all the more shame to make that innocent + young creature talked about and fought over, and have jokes + made in the saloon and at the stores, and quarrels outside + the parish and in it, too." + </p> + <p> + "I guess it has gone farther than we thought," said the + other. "Look! there's Father Kelly and the Vicar-General; + they're looking at the blackboard. I wish I could hear what + they are saying." + </p> + <p> + Norah, indeed, was the only person who did not look at the + two quiet gentlemen before the blackboard, curiously, and + wonder the same, since the voting-booth had become a + firebrand menacing the peace of the parish. Norah was too + busy with her own thoughts even to see them; she only wanted + to get past her wellwishers and be alone with her + perplexities. If she did not see her spiritual guides, they + saw her, and Father Kelly's tired face brightened. "You + really can't blame the boys," he said, smiling; "and she's as + good a daughter and sister, and as good a girl, too, as ever + stepped." + </p> + <p> + The Vicar-General smiled faintly, but his eyes were absent. + The parish at Clover Hill was the newest in the + diocese—a feeble folk struggling to build a church, or + rather help build it, and holding its first bazar. There were + no rich people of their faith—unless one except the + Conners, who owned the saw-mill and were well-to-do—not + even many poor to club their mites; more disheartening yet, + the parish roll held about an equal proportion of Irish and + German names. The Vicar-General and the Bishop shook their + heads at the yoking of the two races; but there was no church + nearer than Father Kelly's, five miles away, and Father Kelly + was not young, and his own great parish growing all the time; + so the parish was made, and a young American priest, who had + more sense than always goes with burning enthusiasm, was sent + to guide the souls at Clover Hill and keep the peace. He kept + it until the fair, when in an evil hour he consented to the + voting-booth. He expected—they all expected—that + the excitement would focus on the gold-headed cane, and that + Mr. Michael Conner would lead the poll, although the popular + Finnerty might give him a pretty race for his honors; the + gold watch was but an incidental attraction to please the + young people and attract outsiders; nor was there any + suggestion of names. Alas! Michael Conner, a blunt man, + dubbed the voting scheme a "d—- weather-breeder," and + would not give the use of his name; hence there was a + walkaway for Finnerty; and somehow, before any of the elders + quite realized how it began, the Irish girl and the German + girl were unconsciously setting the whole town by the ears, + and imported voters from Father Kelly's were joyously mixing + in the fight. + </p> + <p> + "There's no question about the <i>need</i> of stopping it," + said the Vicar-General, continuing his own train of thought + aloud, "but how are we to do it? The feeling is a perfect + dynamite factory now, and the least stumble on our part will + bring an explosion. If we tried to give them the money + back—and you know women have a tight grip on money + —we shouldn't know where to give it. Positively we're + like the family of the poor fellow who had the fit—one + doctor said it would kill him to bring him to his senses, and + the other said he would die if they didn't!" + </p> + <p> + "And Father Martin safe in his bed with pneumonia!" groaned + Father Kelly. + </p> + <p> + Norah had found her progress barred by new-comers, and she + had fled back to avoid them. Her cheeks reddened again, and + the tears burned her eyelids; she went past too fast for more + than a hurried salutation, at which Father Kelly shook his + head. "That's the girl, isn't it?" said the Vicar-General. + "I'm afraid the situation is a little too much for her, too; + she looks excited." + </p> + <p> + "Not a bit, not a bit," cried Father Kelly, undaunted; "she's + a bit impulsive, but she's got good sense." + </p> + <p> + "She wears too much jewelry." + </p> + <p> + Norah did not hear this; she was out of the hall, speeding + back to Mrs. Conner's gown that awaited her finishing + touches. Her mother, a little creature with sweet temper that + made amends for an entire lack of energy, was rocking over + some bastings, sawing the air with her forefinger as she + discoursed on the weighty splendor of the gold watch and + chain, ending in gush of parental complacency, "And Norah + says it'll be as much mine 's hers!" + </p> + <p> + Norah could hear her chirping on, happily, while she laid + away her hat in the bandbox and girt herself with a + protecting apron. + </p> + <p> + The talk turned her cold. "It ain't only for myself I want + it," she declared to an invisible suggester, "though I + <i>do</i> want something real. I never had a real gold chain, + or even a real gold breastpin, in my life—or a ring. + Oh, I did want one!" She looked scornfully at the gay prism + gleaming from her pretty fingers (fingers as daintily kept as + any lady's); they had flashed like rubies and sapphires and + diamonds from the white velvet drifts of the show-case in the + great department store where she bought them when she went to + the city; but now they were cheapened and dimmed by her + memories of the "real" watch. She peeled them roughly from + her hands. + </p> + <p> + She had no morsel of news ready for the hungry ears awaiting + her. To her mother's questions she answered briefly that the + only thing she heard was that Freda Berglund would have a + great number of new votes in the evening. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Murray tossed back a confident: <i>"Let</i> her! I know + some boys that's going to go this night, with a hundred + dollars in their pockets each of 'em. Let her bring on her + votes, I say. It's a good cause gits the money. But it's + you'll be wearin' the watch next Sunday, and not Freda + Berglund!" + </p> + <p> + Norah bit her lip. She was not used to silence, but she sewed + silently (Norah, who was so sweet-tempered that she had been + known to work a whole day with a machine that skipped + stitches, never getting cross, and stopping four times to + wrestle with the bobbin before she subdued it). Her mother + did not know what to make of her. Her own nickering + complaints of Norah's "glumness" sank into dumb anxiety. She + stole timid glances at the bowed black head and the frowning + black brows; after a glance she would sigh, a prolonged, + patient sigh. There are times when a sigh is to strained + nerves like a blast of hot air on a burn. Norah jumped up and + ran away from her own irritation before it exploded. She made + a pretext of looking at her skirt (which was new) in the + parlor cheval-glass; but in the parlor, behind the door, she + did not give a glance to the picture in the mirror. The "pire + glass," as Mrs. Murray called it, was a relic of the family's + better days when Norah's father was alive and kept a + grocery-store and owned a horse and wagon; its florid frame + of black-walnut etched with gilt, its tall mirror, very + little marred by water-spots on the back, long had been + reverently admired by Norah; it showed that the family had + "had things"; but she passed it without a glance, just as she + passed the cabinet organ decked in flowered plush which she + had bought with her own savings. Never until that day had she + stood in the parlor without a sensation of pleasure over its + fresh paint and paper and the many gilt frames on the wall; + but to-day she went, unnoting, to the crayon picture of a + man, and looked through tears at a plain, smiling, kindly + face. + </p> + <p> + "I wish you hadn't died," was all she said; but the tears + rolled down her cheeks and her frame shook with sobs that she + forced to be noiseless. At last she dried her wet cheeks and + tossed her head. "I don't see that <i>I</i> need do + <i>anything</i>," she muttered, while she hurried round the + house outside, in order that she might reach the bedroom and + efface the traces of her weeping. "I'm a great fool to think + of doing anything," she declared. "I didn't put myself up, + and I won't put myself down—and disappoint mother and + all my friends. It's none of my business." Therewith she + assumed a light and cheerful air, which she carried securely + through the remainder of the afternoon. + </p> + <hr> + <br> + <br> + + <p> + The fifth evening of St. Kunagunda's fair opened with a + stifling crowd. Protestants, Catholics, and Germans who never + had seen the interior of an American church jostled the + buyers at the booths, and the faithful dutifully ate turkey + and cold rolls for the fifth time at the supper-tables. The + outsiders did not linger at the booths; they were come to + vote or to witness the voting, and their jests and comments + buzzed noisily above the talk. Every moment the note of the + buzz grew more hostile. More than a few ears were tingling; + at every turn there were scowls and sullen eyes and ugly + smiles. The matrons' cheeks were burning; their eyes flashed; + every now and again one of their voices shrilled defiantly + above the hoarse hum of the crowd. The young Irish girls were + laughing, enjoying the excitement, and admiring the young men + flaunting their banknotes with the swing of their father's + shillalahs. The young German girls curled their lips and + whispered together. There was a significant herding of the + contending races apart, while the visiting Anglo-Saxons wore + an air of safe and dispassionate enjoyment, such as pertains + of right to the boy on the fence waiting for the fight. + </p> + <p> + Norah Murray had a circle of young men about her, who laughed + rapturously at her sallies. She wore her chain and a new + rhinestone brooch and all her rings. She looked very handsome + with her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She raised her voice + to be heard above the din. Mrs. Murray's new bonnet nodded + its red roses and black ostrich tips among the lace + handkerchiefs and embroidery of the fancy table—she + being enthroned on the step-ladder for lack of other + seat—and her delighted eyes ran from her daughter to + the voting blackboard. She waved a spangled fan and smiled + buoyantly at every familiar face, whether turned towards her + in recognition or not. Mrs. O'Brien, who had slipped away + from the kitchen to be sure the lamps were not smoking, + stopped a moment beside her. Mrs. O'Brien looked tired and + worried when she let her own smile of greeting slip from her + face. A tinge of the same expression was on Father Kelly's + kind old countenance, but the Vicar-General's features were + as inscrutable as a doctor's. He had made a genial procession + through the room, distributing the merited praise at each + booth, and appreciably softening the atmosphere by his + presence. He halted opposite Norah's party. Father Kelly's + gaze grew anxious. "I mind me," said he—"I mind me of + the child when her father died—not six she + was—holding her mother's hand, not weeping herself, the + creature, just stroking her mother's hand and petting her; + and holding the baby, the one that's off to the seminary now. + Her father was an honest man. He failed once, and then paid + every dollar with interest—an <i>honest</i> man. I mind + me of little Norah at her first communion—" + </p> + <p> + The Vicar-General smiled. "Kelly, you're a good fellow," said + he, not removing his glance from Norah's excited face. + </p> + <p> + "She'll come out all right, all right," said Father Kelly, + with the hammer-like gesture of his right fist which his + congregation knew well for a storm signal. "She's a good + girl. This is no fault of hers, this foolish contraption to + make money; I'm one with Conner, there; but the girls aren't + to blame. Freda's a good girl, too. That's she coming." + </p> + <p> + The German heroine of this miniature Nibelungenlied was tall + and slender, fair haired and fair faced. Her face wore a + placid air; she looked perfectly serene and had assumed + unconsciousness as a garment; she did not talk, only faintly + smiled in return to the greetings that met her on every side. + To right and left, before and behind her, walked her two + aunts and her two neighbors, women of substance and dignity. + They walled her about as might a body-guard, sending + eye-blinks of defiance at the hilarious young Irishmen. Mrs. + Orendorf, of the guard, went the length of twisting her head + for a final glare of disapproval at Norah, in passing. Norah + laughed. "I used to know Freda Burglund last week," said she, + "but I guess she has forgotten me." + </p> + <p> + "She's too busy with the blackboard, doing arithmetic," joked + one of the young men. + </p> + <p> + "You ought to see old Fritz!" cried another; "he's clean off + his base. He's mortgaged his farm to Nichols. Nichols didn't + want to lend, but he would have the money." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess we'll give him a run for his pile." + </p> + <p> + "He's mortgaged his farm!" said a third young man; when his + voiced sounded, the very slightest of movements of Norah's + head betrayed that she listened. + </p> + <p> + "I'd mortgage two farms if I had them," was the gallant + comment from the first man, "if Miss Norah needed votes." + </p> + <p> + The third man felt the rustle of every dollar he had, drawn + out of the bank that morning, and now bulging his + waistcoat-pocket in company with a bit of ribbon that had + dropped from Norah's hair; but it was easier for him to make + money than talk; he was ready to push the last of it over the + voting-table for Norah, but he wasn't ready of tongue; he put + his big honest hands in his pocket, and lest he should glower + too openly at the fluent blade, sent his eyes after Freda + Berglund's yellow head and fine shoulders. Norah could see + him. She stiffened. + </p> + <p> + "I don't think it very nice of her to <i>let</i> her father + mortgage his farm," said a fourth partisan of Norah's; "he'd + better buy her a watch out and out; you can get a good one + for ten dollars. She'd ought to stop the old man. Her mother + would if she were alive." + </p> + <p> + "Fritz ain't so easy headed off," said the third man. "Miss + Freda is a very nice young lady; I don't believe she knows + about it." + </p> + <p> + He kept his eyes on the yellow head, this unfortunate + bungler, who had been in love with Norah since he had worn + knickerbockers, and Norah held her own head higher in the + air. And she let Mr. Williamson, the new book-keeper at + Conner's (he who would have mortgaged two farms for her), + take her to the ice-cream table, leaving the bungling lover + (christened Patrick Maurice, his surname being Barnes), to + jostle dismally over to the apron table, where Freda was. + </p> + <p> + Norah laughed at Mr. Williamson's jokes, and asked him + questions about the business college from which he had + recently been graduated, and was the picture of soft + animation and pleasure; and the while her heart was like + lead, and she hated Freda Berglund. Sitting at the table she + heard snatches of talk, all tinctured by the strong + excitement of the evening. "I can't help it if they do + quarrel," she thought, angrily, answering her own accusation; + not even to herself did she say that she hated Freda. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes wandered a second over the hall; they saw the + Vicar-General's pale, handsome face, a half-head taller than + Father Kelly's good gray head; they saw a square-jawed, + black-haired, determined, smiling young man behind the + ballot-box turning his eyes from Pat Barnes to an elderly man + who held up his hand, waving a roll of bills. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, I see Berglund has arrived," said Williamson. "You are + going to do a lot to build the church, Miss Norah." + </p> + <p> + Berglund was rather a short man; his hair was gray; he limped + from the old wound received at Shiloh. Something clutched at + Norah's heart as she looked at him. Williamson made some + trivial joke; she did not hear it; she was hearing over again + the words of the German woman to Mrs. O'Brien that afternoon. + Impulsively she sprang to her feet. "Will you excuse me, Mr. + Williamson?" she exclaimed. "I have to go to the voting-booth + one moment." She went so swiftly that Williamson had much ado + to keep pace with her, besides overpaying the waitress in his + hurry. Father Kelly swallowed a groan of dismay at the fresh + strain on his faith when he perceived her beckoning a + ring-laden hand at the custodian of votes; and the + Vicar-General involuntarily frowned. They both with one + accord pushed up to the table—to the visible relief of + the young man behind it. "I don't know what to do," he + confided to Father Kelly, before the latter could ask the + question quivering on his tongue—"I don't know what to + do. Miss Murray wants me not to take in any more money 'til I + hear from her again. She'll be back. And here's old Berglund + wants three hundred and fifty dollars' worth for Miss Freda, + and here's Barnes with a big bunch for Miss Murray, trying to + scare off the old man. What'll I do, Father?" + </p> + <p> + "I guess you better not do anything," said Father Kelly, with + a twinkle in his eye. "Norah Murray is apt to have a good + reason for her asking. Shut the booth down, and <i>I'll</i> + take charge while you go off for a cup of coffee." + </p> + <p> + The Vicar-General nodded approval. + </p> + <p> + "Well, just's you say, Father," said the young man; "it's + kind of unprecedented." + </p> + <p> + "What do you suppose it means?" puzzled the Vicar-General, in + an undertone, as the vote-taker disappeared; and the crowd + fell back a little on Father Kelly's bland announcement that + Mr. Duffy had been called off for a few minutes, and there + would be a recess in voting. + </p> + <p> + "'Tis beyond <i>me</i>," said Father Kelly, "but watch the + girl; she's gone straight to Freda Berglund. There, they're + talking; they're going off together with Mrs. Orendorf. I + can't give a guess, but she's a good girl. I'm hopeful." + </p> + <p> + Norah had indeed gone straight to Freda Berglund. She + addressed her in so low a voice that only Freda and Mrs. + Orendorf, bending across Freda's shoulders at that instant, + the better to cheapen a darning-bag for stockings, could hear + her words. "I want to see you, Freda," she said. "Won't you + and Mrs. Orendorf come away somewhere so we can talk? I have + got something important to say." + </p> + <p> + "I—don't—know," faltered Freda. + </p> + <p> + "I want Mrs. O'Brien, too," said Norah, firmly. "It's all + right; you'll think it all right, Mrs. Orendorf. Come, come; + don't you see those men who have been drinking? Don't you + hear them? Don't you see Mrs. Finn, who used to think there + was nobody like Mrs. Conner, looking the other way so's not + to see her? Can't you hear the quarrelling all round? They've + stopped voting, but they haven't stopped quarrelling. Come!" + </p> + <p> + Although she had dropped her voice, the listeners were so + close that they caught snatches of the sentences, and craned + their necks forward and hushed their own talk to listen. Mrs. + Orendorf was not of a nimble habit of thought; but she felt + the electric impetus of the Irish girl; besides, was + <i>she</i> not bidden? Could she not protect Freda from the + machinations of the enemy? + </p> + <p> + "Dot's so, Freda," she concluded, stolidly. "Koom den, der + only blace vere we can talk py uns is dot coal-closet wo is + der eggstry ice-cream freezer. Koom. I see Meezis O'Breen." + </p> + <p> + Amid a startling pause, every eye questioning them, the three + picked up Mrs. O'Brien and sought the coal-closet. Then Norah + turned. In the dim light her face shone whitely. Her full + melodious voice shook the least in the world with haste and + excitement. "We've got to stop this," said she, "and I know + how. Freda, I am going to withdraw my name. I wish to Heaven + I never had let them put it on. You may have the watch." + </p> + <p> + Freda's tall figure was only an outline in the shadow; they + could not see her face; but the outline wavered backward. Her + voice was stiff and cold. + </p> + <p> + "I don't think that's fair. You have more votes than I have." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Brien opened her lips and shut them tightly. It was so + dark no one saw her, or Mrs. Orendorf, as she sat on the + freezer gulping down inaudible opinions regarding Norah's + sanity. + </p> + <p> + "I sha'n't have," retorted Norah, impatiently, "when your + father spends all his money that he mortgaged his + farm—" + </p> + <p> + <i>"What!"</i> cried Freda. + </p> + <p> + "She not know; ve keep it von her," muttered Mrs. Orendorf. + "Fritz make me promise not to tell." + </p> + <p> + "Well, he didn't make <i>me</i>," said Norah. "<i>I'll</i> + tell. He raised the money, and he was trying to buy the + votes, and I saw him. I haven't any father. I can't remember + anything of my father except his leading me about when I was + a little thing by the finger, and how kind his voice was; but + I miss him—I miss him all the time; I know he was a + good man, and loved me; and he'd have done anything for me, + just as your father is doing; and I couldn't have borne it to + have him, and I was sure you couldn't, either. Freda, it's + all wrong, this spending more money than they can afford on + us; I've felt it all along. Now let's stop it. The church has + got enough." + </p> + <p> + "Is it true about papa?" said Freda, in German. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Ach Himmel</i>! Yes, my child. Dost thou not know thy + father yet? For all he seems still and stern, thou art more + than all the world to him." Mrs. Orendorf spoke in the same + tongue; her other listeners could not understand it, but they + marvelled over the soft change in her voice. + </p> + <p> + "It's true enough, Miss Freda," said Mrs. O'Brien, gently. + "And maybe you're in the right of it, Norah darling, though + 'tis a bit hard to give in; but, yes, I'm sure you're right." + </p> + <p> + "You <i>are</i> right," said Freda, "and it's all been wrong, + all wrong. But I've got to see my father first. Please come + with me." + </p> + <p> + As Norah had led them in the first place, Freda led them by + an equally potent although entirely different force now; it + was Norah's turn to follow, blindly. + </p> + <p> + A hush everywhere in their wake betrayed that a consciousness + of their conference and its importance was in the air. Freda + was pale, Norah's cheeks burned, but neither girl looked to + the right or the left; and both the matrons following avoided + their friends' curiosity by a soldierly "eyes front." Freda + walked up to her father, who looked up, not altogether + pleased, at her light touch on his arm. + </p> + <p> + "This is no place for thee, my child," said he; something in + her face made his voice gentler than common. She looked, he + thought, dimly, as she had looked when they got the news + about Otto. + </p> + <p> + "I <i>have</i> to say something," said Freda. + </p> + <p> + "You beples stand back!" commanded Mrs. Orendorf, with a + backward impulse of her elbows. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, you stand back, ladies and gentlemen, please," begged + Mrs. O'Brien, smiling; "'twill all be explained to yous." + Only Norah stood her ground; and Pat Barnes kept in the front + rank of the bystanders. + </p> + <p> + "What is it?" growled Berglund, bristling at the circle of + faces much readier for peace than war. + </p> + <p> + "She wants to give the watch to me," explained Freda, rapidly + repeating almost word for word Norah's offer. As she spoke + suspicion wrinkled the corners of old Fritz's eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Maypi sie know sie vill git peten," he muttered, loud enough + for Norah to hear. Then, as he saw her color turn, his hard + face softened. "No," he said, clearly, "it don't be + <i>dot</i>; dot Pat Barnes got his pocket full of moneys; no, + sie is a goot schild, und her fader he vas a goot mans; sie + haf a hard dime mit no fader to look oudt for her." He turned + to Norah, whose swimming eyes met his full. Pat Barnes tried + to cough down his emotion and made a strange squeak; but + nobody smiled; the crowded hall was curiously still as Fritz + limped up to Norah. "No, ve don't can take it off you; can + ve, Freda?" said he. + </p> + <p> + Freda slipped her hand into her father's arm. "No, Norah," + she said. "I withdraw my name. And I'm prouder to have my + father than all the watches in the world!" + </p> + <p> + "Sure, you're right there, mavourneen," cried Mrs. O'Brien. + "Whisht, all of you! These blessid children have got the way + out of all this mess; they're better Christians than anny of + us." Mrs. Orendorf frowned fiercely, reached for her + handkerchief, and wiped her face. + </p> + <p> + Father Kelly felt it time for his own word, and stepped into + the circle. A sentence or two from Mrs. O'Brien made the + quick-witted old Irishman master of the incident. + </p> + <p> + "As I understand it," his full, rich, Celtic tones purred, + "'tis the feeling of both these young ladies that there is + hard feeling and strife and wasteful spending of money coming + out of what was meant to be a good-natured contest for the + good of the church; but this disputing, this spending, are + neither for the good of the church nor the glory of + God—far from it—God forgive us our weakness. So + both these young ladies withdrew their names. We have cause + to be proud of them both, as they surely have cause to be + proud of the loyalty of their friends." (Irrepressible + applause.) "And the kindest thing their friends can do is to + shake hands all around." (A voice—in point of fact, the + voice of the widow Murray: "But what will the sodality do + with the watch?") "The watch is the property of the parish." + Here Father Kelly paused, his persuasive argument rolling + back on himself; <i>he didn't</i> know what to do with the + watch. It was too perilous to run the risk of new discords + over it. The priest cast a distress rocket in a look at the + Vicar-General; but the Vicar-General perfidiously smiled and + looked away. + </p> + <p> + Up spoke Norah, her sweet voice not quite steady, her cheeks + crimson—but they all heard her: "It's a large gold + watch. Why can't we give it to Father Kelly?" + </p> + <p> + The Vicar-General's lifted hand stilled the shout that rose. + </p> + <p> + "Why not?" called he. "Father Kelly is not a young lady, but + he is popular." + </p> + <p> + And Father Kelly, putting both hands over his blushes, ran + away from the frantic roar of applause and laughter. The + Vicar-General pursued him to say: + </p> + <p> + "You were right, Kelly; she <i>is</i> a good girl—and a + wise one!" + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the only person in the hall who was not either + shouting or screaming, according to sex, was Norah's mother; + and the cloud on her face lightened when she saw Norah coming + to her on Pat Barnes's arm and Pat's face aglow. + </p> + <p> + Freda saw them too; she slipped her hand into her father's + arm. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Liebchen</i>!" said he, stroking it with his rough + fingers, "I will get thee a watch some day, never fear!" + </p> + <p> + But it was not the thought of a watch that made Freda's heart + lighter than for many a day. "I don't want a watch," said + she. "Oh, I'm sorry for Norah, who can't even remember about + her father!" + </p> + <p> + THE END + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Life at High Tide, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE AT HIGH TIDE *** + +This file should be named htide10h.htm or htide10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, htide11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, htide10ah.htm + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, Sandra Bannatyne, +David Garcia and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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