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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9659-0.txt b/9659-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..56c12bc --- /dev/null +++ b/9659-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11264 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Gentleman From Indiana, by Booth Tarkington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Gentleman From Indiana + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Release Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9659] +Last Updated: March 3, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + + + + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA + + +By Booth Tarkington + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. THE YOUNG MAN WHO CAME TO STAY + II. THE STRANGE LADY + III. LONESOMENESS + IV. THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER + V. AT THE PASTURE BARS: ELDER-BUSHES MAY HAVE STINGS + VI. JUNE + VII. MORNING: “SOME IN RAGS AND SOME IN TAGS AND SOME IN VELVET GOWNS” + VIII. GLAD AFTERNOON: THE GIRL BY THE BLUE TENT POLE + IX. NIGHT: IT IS BAD LUCK TO SING BEFORE BREAKFAST + X. THE COURT-HOUSE BELL + XI. JOHN BROWN'S BODY + XII. JERRY THE TELLER + XIII. JAMES FISBEE + XIV. A RESCUE + XV. NETTLES + XVI. PRETTY MARQUISE + XVII. HELEN'S TOAST + XVIII. THE TREACHERY OF H. FISBEE + XIX. THE GREAT HARKLESS COMES HOME + + + + +CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG MAN WHO CAME TO STAY + +There is a fertile stretch of flat lands in Indiana where unagrarian +Eastern travellers, glancing from car-windows, shudder and return their +eyes to interior upholstery, preferring even the swaying caparisons of a +Pullman to the monotony without. The landscape lies interminably level: +bleak in winter, a desolate plain of mud and snow; hot and dusty in +summer, in its flat lonesomeness, miles on miles with not one cool hill +slope away from the sun. The persistent tourist who seeks for signs of +man in this sad expanse perceives a reckless amount of rail fence; at +intervals a large barn; and, here and there, man himself, incurious, +patient, slow, looking up from the fields apathetically as the Limited +flies by. Widely separated from each other are small frame railway +stations--sometimes with no other building in sight, which indicates +that somewhere behind the adjacent woods a few shanties and thin +cottages are grouped about a couple of brick stores. + +On the station platforms there are always two or three wooden +packing-boxes, apparently marked for travel, but they are sacred from +disturbance and remain on the platform forever; possibly the right train +never comes along. They serve to enthrone a few station loafers, who +look out from under their hat-brims at the faces in the car-windows with +the languid scorn a permanent fixture always has for a transient, and +the pity an American feels for a fellow-being who does not live in his +town. Now and then the train passes a town built scatteringly about +a court-house, with a mill or two humming near the tracks. This is +a county-seat, and the inhabitants and the local papers refer to it +confidently as “our city.” The heart of the flat lands is a central area +called Carlow County, and the county-seat of Carlow is a town unhappily +named in honor of its first settler, William Platt, who christened it +with his blood. Natives of this place have sometimes remarked, easily, +that their city had a population of from five to six thousand souls. It +is easy to forgive them for such statements; civic pride is a virtue. + +The social and business energy of Plattville concentrates on the Square. +Here, in summer-time, the gentlemen are wont to lounge from store +to store in their shirt sleeves; and here stood the old, red-brick +court-house, loosely fenced in a shady grove of maple and elm--“slipp'ry +ellum”--called the “Court-House Yard.” When the sun grew too hot for the +dry-goods box whittlers in front of the stores around the Square and the +occupants of the chairs in front of the Palace Hotel on the corner, they +would go across and drape themselves over the court-house fence, under +the trees, and leisurely carve there initials on the top board. The +farmers hitched their teams to the fence, for there were usually loafers +energetic enough to shout “Whoa!” if the flies worried the horses +beyond patience. In the yard, amongst the weeds and tall, unkept grass, +chickens foraged all day long; the fence was so low that the most +matronly hen flew over with propriety; and there were gaps that +accommodated the passage of itinerant pigs. Most of the latter, however, +preferred the cool wallows of the less important street corners. Here +and there a big dog lay asleep in the middle of the road, knowing well +that the easy-going Samaritan, in his case, would pass by on the other +side. + +Only one street attained to the dignity of a name--Main Street, which +formed the north side of the Square. In Carlow County, descriptive +location is usually accomplished by designating the adjacent, as, “Up at +Bardlocks',” “Down by Schofields',” “Right where Hibbards live,” “Acrost +from Sol. Tibbs's,” or, “Other side of Jones's field.” In winter, Main +Street was a series of frozen gorges land hummocks; in fall and spring, +a river of mud; in summer, a continuing dust heap; it was the best +street in Plattville. + +The people lived happily; and, while the world whirled on outside, they +were content with their own. It would have moved their surprise as +much as their indignation to hear themselves spoken of as a “secluded +community”; for they sat up all night to hear the vote of New York, +every campaign. Once when the President visited Rouen, seventy miles +away, there were only few bankrupts (and not a baby amongst them) left +in the deserted homes of Carlow County. Everybody had adventures; almost +everybody saw the great man; and everybody was glad to get back home +again. It was the longest journey some of them ever set upon, and these, +elated as they were over their travels, determined to think twice ere +they went that far from home another time. + +On Saturdays, the farmers enlivened the commercial atmosphere of +Plattville; and Miss Tibbs, the postmaster's sister and clerk, used to +make a point of walking up and down Main Street as often as possible, +to get a thrill in the realization of some poetical expressions that +haunted her pleasingly; phrases she had employed frequently in her poems +for the “Carlow County Herald.” When thirty or forty country people were +scattered along the sidewalks in front of the stores on Main Street, she +would walk at nicely calculated angles to the different groups so as to +leave as few gaps as possible between the figures, making them appear +as near a solid phalanx as she could. Then she would murmur to herself, +with the accent of soulful revel, “The thronged city streets,” and, +“Within the thronged city,” or, “Where the thronging crowds were +swarming and the great cathedral rose.” Although she had never been +beyond Carlow and the bordering counties in her life, all her poems were +of city streets and bustling multitudes. She was one of those who had +been unable to join the excursion to Rouen when the President was there; +but she had listened avidly to her friends' descriptions of the crowds. +Before that time her muse had been sylvan, speaking of “Flow'rs of May,” + and hinting at thoughts that overcame her when she roved the woodlands +thro'; but now the inspiration was become decidedly municipal and +urban, evidently reluctant to depart beyond the retail portions of a +metropolis. Her verses beginning, “O, my native city, bride of Hibbard's +winding stream,”--Hibbard's Creek runs west of Plattville, except in +time of drought--“When thy myriad lights are shining, and thy faces, +like a dream, Go flitting down thy sidewalks when their daily toil is +done,” were pronounced, at the time of their publication, the best poem +that had ever appeared in the “Herald.” + +This unlucky newspaper was a thorn in the side of every patriot of +Carlow County. It was a poor paper; everybody knew it was a poor paper; +it was so poor that everybody admitted it was a poor paper--worse, the +neighboring county of Amo possessed a better paper, the “Amo Gazette.” + The “Carlow County Herald” was so everlastingly bad that Plattville +people bent their heads bitterly and admitted even to citizens of Amo +that the “Gazette” was the better paper. The “Herald” was a weekly, +issued on Saturday; sometimes it hung fire over Sunday and appeared +Monday evening. In their pride, the Carlow people supported the “Herald” + loyally and long; but finally subscriptions began to fall off and the +“Gazette” gained them. It came to pass that the “Herald” missed fire +altogether for several weeks; then it came out feebly, two small +advertisements occupying the whole of the fourth page. It was breathing +its last. The editor was a clay-colored gentleman with a goatee, whose +one surreptitious eye betokened both indolence of disposition and +a certain furtive shrewdness. He collected all the outstanding +subscriptions he could, on the morning of the issue just mentioned, and, +thoughtfully neglecting several items on the other side of the ledger, +departed from Plattville forever. + +The same afternoon a young man from the East alighted on the platform +of the railway station, north of the town, and, entering the rickety +omnibus that lingered there, seeking whom it might rattle to deafness, +demanded to be driven to the Herald Building. It did not strike the +driver that the newcomer was precisely a gay young man when he climbed +into the omnibus; but, an hour later, as he stood in the doorway of the +edifice he had indicated as his destination, depression seemed to have +settled into the marrow of his bones. Plattville was instantly alert to +the stranger's presence, and interesting conjectures were hazarded all +day long at the back door of Martin's Dry-Goods Emporium, where all the +clerks from the stores around the Square came to play checkers or look +on at the game. (This was the club during the day; in the evening the +club and the game removed to the drug, book, and wall-paper store on +the corner.) At supper, the new arrival and his probable purposes were +discussed over every table in the town. Upon inquiry, he had informed +Judd Bennett, the driver of the omnibus, that he had come to stay. +Naturally, such a declaration caused a sensation, as people did not come +to Plattville to live, except through the inadvertency of being born +there. In addition, the young man's appearance and attire were reported +to be extraordinary. Many of the curious, among them most of the +marriageable females of the place, took occasion to pass and repass the +sign of the “Carlow County Herald” during the evening. + +Meanwhile, the stranger was seated in the dingy office upstairs with +his head bowed low on his arms. Twilight stole through the dirty +window-panes and faded into darkness. Night filled the room. He did not +move. The young man from the East had bought the “Herald” from an +agent; had bought it without ever having been within a hundred miles of +Plattville. He had vastly overpaid for it. Moreover, the price he had +paid for it was all the money he had in the world. + +The next morning he went bitterly to work. He hired a compositor from +Rouen, a young man named Parker, who set type all night long and helped +him pursue advertisements all day. The citizens shook their heads +pessimistically. They had about given up the idea that the “Herald” + could ever amount to anything, and they betrayed an innocent, but +caustic, doubt of ability in any stranger. + +One day the new editor left a note on his door; “Will return in fifteen +minutes.” + +Mr. Rodney McCune, a politician from the neighboring county of Gaines, +happening to be in Plattville on an errand to his henchmen, found the +note, and wrote beneath the message the scathing inquiry, “Why?” + +When he discovered this addendum, the editor smiled for the first time +since his advent, and reported the incident in his next issue, using the +rubric, “Why Has the 'Herald' Returned to Life?” as a text for a rousing +editorial on “honesty in politics,” a subject of which he already knew +something. The political district to which Carlow belonged was governed +by a limited number of gentlemen whose wealth was ever on the increase; +and “honesty in politics” was a startling conception to the minds of the +passive and resigned voters, who discussed the editorial on the street +corners and in the stores. The next week there was another editorial, +personal and local in its application, and thereby it became evident +that the new proprietor of the “Herald” was a theorist who believed, in +general, that a politician's honor should not be merely of that +middling healthy species known as “honor amongst politicians”; and, in +particular, that Rodney McCune should not receive the nomination of his +party for Congress. Now, Mr. McCune was the undoubted dictator of the +district, and his followers laughed at the stranger's fantastic onset. + +But the editor was not content with the word of print; he hired a horse +and rode about the country, and (to his own surprise) he proved to be +an adaptable young man who enjoyed exercise with a pitchfork to the +farmer's profit while the farmer talked. He talked little himself, but +after listening an hour or so, he would drop a word from the saddle as +he left; and then, by some surprising wizardry, the farmer, thinking +over the interview, decided there was some sense in what that young +fellow said, and grew curious to see what the young fellow had further +to say in the “Herald.” + +Politics is the one subject that goes to the vitals of every rural +American; and a Hoosier will talk politics after he is dead. + +Everybody read the campaign editorials, and found them interesting, +although there was no one who did not perceive the utter absurdity of a +young stranger's dropping into Carlow and involving himself in a party +fight against the boss of the district. It was entirely a party fight; +for, by grace of the last gerrymander, the nomination carried with it +the certainty of election. A week before the convention there came a +provincial earthquake; the news passed from man to man in awe-struck +whispers--McCune had withdrawn his name, making the hollowest of excuses +to his cohorts. Nothing was known of the real reason for his disordered +retreat, beyond the fact that he had been in Plattville on the morning +before his withdrawal and had issued from a visit to the “Herald” office +in a state of palsy. Mr. Parker, the Rouen printer, had been present at +the close of the interview; but he held his peace at the command of his +employer. He had been called into the sanctum, and had found McCune, +white and shaking, leaning on the desk. + +“Parker,” said the editor, exhibiting a bundle of papers he held in his +hand, “I want you to witness a verbal contract between Mr. McCune and +myself. These papers are an affidavit and copies of some records of a +street-car company which obtained a charter while Mr McCune was in +the State legislature. They were sent to me by a man I do not know, an +anonymous friend of Mr. McCune's; in fact, a friend he seems to have +lost. On consideration of our not printing these papers, Mr. McCune +agrees to retire from politics for good. You understand, if he ever +lifts his head again, politically, We publish them, and the courts will +do the rest. Now, in case anything should happen to me----” + +“Something will happen to you, all right,” broke out McCune. “You can +bank on that, you black----” + +“Come,” the editor interrupted, not unpleasantly “why should there be +anything personal, in all this? I don't recognize you as my private +enemy--not at all; and I think you are getting off rather easily; aren't +you? You stay out of politics, and everything will be comfortable. You +ought never to have been in it, you see. It's a mistake not to keep +square, because in the long run somebody is sure to give you away--like +the fellow who sent me these. You promise to hold to a strictly private +life?” + +“You're a traitor to the party,” groaned the other, “but you only +wait----” + +The editor smiled sadly. “Wait nothing. Don't threaten, man. Go home to +your wife. I'll give you three to one she'll be glad you are out of it.” + +“I'll give you three to one,” said McCune, “that the White Caps will +get you if you stay in Carlow. You want to look out for yourself, I tell +you, my smart boy!” + +“Good-day, Mr. McCune,” was the answer. “Let me have your note of +withdrawal before you leave town this afternoon.” The young man paused +a moment, then extended his hand, as he said: “Shake hands, won't you? +I--I haven't meant to be too hard on you. I hope things will seem easier +and gayer to you before long; and if--if anything should turn up that I +can do for you in a private way, I'll be very glad, you know. Good-by.” + +The sound of the “Herald's” victory went over the State. The paper came +out regularly. The townsfolk bought it and the farmers drove in for it. +Old subscribers came back. Old advertisers renewed. The “Herald” began +to sell in Amo, and Gaines County people subscribed. Carlow folk held +up their heads when journalism was mentioned. Presently the “Herald” + announced a news connection with Rouen, and with that, and the aid of +“patent insides,” began an era of three issues a week, appearing on +Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. The Plattville Brass Band serenaded +the editor. + +During the second month of the new regime of the “Herald,” the working +force of the paper received an addition. One night the editor found some +barroom loafers tormenting a patriarchal old man who had a magnificent +head and a grand white beard. He had been thrown out of a saloon, and he +was drunk with the drunkenness of three weeks steady pouring. He propped +himself against a wall and reproved his tormentors in Latin. “I'm +walking your way, Mr. Fisbee,” remarked the journalist, hooking his arm +into the old man's. “Suppose we leave our friends here and go home?” + +Mr. Fisbee was the one inhabitant of the town who had an unknown past; +no one knew more about him than that he had been connected with a +university somewhere, and had travelled in unheard-of countries before +he came to Plattville. A glamour of romance was thrown about him by the +gossips, to whom he ever proved a fund of delightful speculation. There +was a dark, portentous secret in his life, it was agreed; an opinion +not too well confirmed by the old man's appearance. His fine eyes had a +pathetic habit of wandering to the horizon in a questioning fashion that +had a queer sort of hopelessness in it, as if his quest were one for the +Holy Grail, perhaps; and his expression was mild, vague, and sad. He had +a look of race and blood; and yet, at the first glance, one saw that he +was lost in dreams, and one guessed that the dreams would never be +of great practicability in their application. Some such impression of +Fisbee was probably what caused the editor of the “Herald” to nickname +him (in his own mind) “The White Knight,” and to conceive a strong, if +whimsical, fancy for him. + +Old Fisbee had come (from nobody knew where) to Plattville to teach, +and had been principal of the High School for ten years, instructing +his pupils after a peculiar fashion of his own, neglecting the ordinary +courses of High School instruction to lecture on archaeology to the +dumfounded scholars; growing year by year more forgetful and absent, +lost in his few books and his own reflections, until, though undeniably +a scholar, he had been discharged for incompetency. He was old; he had +no money and no way to make money; he could find nothing to do. The blow +had seemed to daze him for a time; then he began to drop in at the hotel +bar, where Wilkerson, the professional drunkard, favored him with his +society. The old man understood; he knew it was the beginning of the +end. He sold his books in order to continue his credit at the Palace +bar, and once or twice, unable to proceed to his own dwelling, spent +the night in a lumber yard, piloted thither by the hardier veteran, +Wilkerson. + +The morning after the editor took him home, Fisbee appeared at the +“Herald” office in a new hat and a decent suit of black. He had received +his salary in advance, his books had been repurchased, and he had become +the reportorial staff of the “Carlow County Herald”; also, he was to +write various treatises for the paper. For the first few evenings, when +he started home from the office, his chief walked with him, chatting +heartily, until they had passed the Palace bar. But Fisbee's redemption +was complete. + +The old man had a daughter. When she came to Plattville, he told her +what the editor of the “Herald” had done for him. + +The journalist kept steadily at his work; and, as time went on, the +bitterness his predecessor's swindle had left him passed away. But his +loneliness and a sense of defeat grew and deepened. When the vistas of +the world had opened to his first youth, he had not thought to spend his +life in such a place as Plattville; but he found himself doing it, and +it was no great happiness to him that the congressional representative +of the district, the gentleman whom the “Herald's” opposition to +McCune had sent to Washington, came to depend on his influence for +renomination; nor did the realization that the editor of the “Carlow +County Herald” had come to be McCune's successor as political dictator +produce a perceptibly enlivening effect on the young man. The years +drifted very slowly, and to him it seemed they went by while he stood +far aside and could not even see them move. He did not consider the life +he led an exciting one; but the other citizens of Carlow did when he +undertook a war against the “White Caps.” The natives were much more +afraid of the “White Caps” than he was; they knew more about them and +understood them better than he did. + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE STRANGE LADY + +IT was June. From the patent inner columns of the “Carlow County Herald” + might be gleaned the information (enlivened by cuts of duchesses) that +the London season had reached a high point of gaiety; and that, although +the weather had grown inauspiciously warm, there was sufficient gossip +for the thoughtful. To the rapt mind of Miss Selina Tibbs came a +delicious moment of comparison: precisely the same conditions prevailed +in Plattville. + +Not unduly might Miss Selina lay this flattering unction to her soul, +and well might the “Herald” declare that “Carlow events were crowding +thick and fast.” The congressional representative of the district was +to deliver a lecture at the court-house; a circus was approaching the +county-seat, and its glories would be exhibited “rain or shine”; the +court had cleared up the docket by sitting to unseemly hours of the +night, even until ten o'clock--one farmer witness had fallen asleep +while deposing that he “had knowed this man Hender some eighteen +year”--and, as excitements come indeed when they do come, and it seldom +rains but it pours, the identical afternoon of the lecture a strange +lady descended from the Rouen Accommodation and was greeted on the +platform by the wealthiest citizen of the county. Judge Briscoe, and +his daughter, Minnie, and (what stirred wonder to an itch almost beyond +endurance) Mr. Fisbee! and they then drove through town on the way to +the Briscoe mansion, all four, apparently, in a fluster of pleasure and +exhilaration, the strange lady engaged in earnest conversation with Mr. +Fisbee on the back seat. + +Judd Bennett had had the best stare at her, but, as he immediately fell +into a dreamy and absent state, little satisfaction could be got from +him, merely an exasperating statement that the stranger seemed to have +a kind of new look to her. However, by means of Miss Mildy Upton, a +domestic of the Briscoe household, the community was given something a +little more definite. The lady's name was Sherwood; she lived in Rouen; +and she had known Miss Briscoe at the eastern school the latter had +attended (to the feverish agitation of Plattville) three years before; +but Mildy confessed her inadequacy in the matter of Mr. Fisbee. He had +driven up in the buckboard with the others and evidently expected to +stay for supper Mr. Tibbs, the postmaster (it was to the postoffice +that Miss Upton brought her information) suggested, as a possible +explanation, that the lady was so learned that the Briscoes had invited +Fisbee on the ground of his being the only person in Plattville they +esteemed wise enough to converse with her; but Miss Tibbs wrecked her +brother's theory by mentioning the name of Fisbee's chief. + +“You see, Solomon,” she sagaciously observed, “if that were true, they +would have invited him, instead of Mr. Fisbee, and I wish they had. +He isn't troubled with malaria, and yet the longer he lives here the +sallower-looking and sadder-looking he gets. I think the company of a +lovely stranger might be of great cheer to his heart, and it will be +interesting to witness the meeting between them. It may be,” added the +poetess, “that they _have_ already met, on his travels before he settled +here. It may be that they are old friends--or even more.” + +“Then what,” returned her brother, “what is he doin' settin' up in his +office all afternoon with ink on his forehead, while Fisbee goes out +ridin' with her and stays for supper after_werds_?” + +Although the problem of Fisbee's attendance remained a mere maze of +hopeless speculation, Mildy had been present at the opening of Miss +Sherwood's trunk, and here was matter for the keen consideration of the +ladies, at least. Thoughtful conversations in regard to hats and linings +took place across fences and on corners of the Square that afternoon; +and many gentlemen wondered (in wise silence) why their spouses were +absent-minded and brooded during the evening meal. + +At half-past seven, the Hon. Kedge Halloway of Amo delivered himself +of his lecture; “The Past and Present. What we may Glean from Them, and +Their Influence on the Future.” At seven the court-room was crowded, and +Miss Tibbs, seated on the platform (reserved for prominent citizens), +viewed the expectant throng with rapture. It is possible that she would +have confessed to witnessing a sea of faces, but it is more probable +that she viewed the expectant throng. The thermometer stood at +eighty-seven degrees and there was a rustle of incessantly moving +palm-leaf fans as, row by row, their yellow sides twinkled in the light +of eight oil lamps. The stouter ladies wielded their fans with vigor. +There were some very pretty faces in Mr. Halloway's audience, but it +is a peculiarity of Plattville that most of those females who do not +incline to stoutness incline far in the opposite direction, and the lean +ladies naturally suffered less from the temperature than their sisters. +The shorn lamb is cared for, but often there seems the intention to +impart a moral in the refusal of Providence to temper warm weather to +the full-bodied. + +Old Tom Martin expressed a strong consciousness of such intention when +he observed to the shocked Miss Selina, as Mr. Bill Snoddy, the stoutest +citizen of the county, waddled abnormally up the aisle: “The Almighty +must be gittin” a heap of fun out of Bill Snoddy to-night.” + +“Oh, Mr. Martin!” exclaimed Miss Tibbs, fluttering at his irreverence. + +“Why, you would yourself. Miss Seliny,” returned old Tom. Mr. Martin +always spoke in one key, never altering the pitch of his high, dry, +unctuous drawl, though, when his purpose was more than ordinarily +humorous, his voice assumed a shade of melancholy. Now and then he +meditatively passed his fingers through his gray beard, which followed +the line of his jaw, leaving his upper lip and most of his chin +smooth-shaven. “Did you ever reason out why folks laugh so much at fat +people?” he continued. “No, ma'am. Neither'd anybody else.” + +“Why is it, Mr. Martin?” asked Miss Selina. + +“It's like the Creator's sayin', 'Let there be light.' He says, +'Let ladies be lovely--'” (Miss Tibbs bowed)--“and 'Let men-folks be +honest--sometimes;' and, 'Let fat people be held up to ridicule +till they fall off.' You can't tell why it is; it was jest ordained +that-a-way.” + +The room was so crowded that the juvenile portion of the assemblage was +ensconced in the windows. Strange to say, the youth of Plattville were +not present under protest, as their fellows of a metropolis would have +been, lectures being well understood by the young of great cities +to have instructive tendencies. The boys came to-night because they +insisted upon coming. It was an event. Some of them had made sacrifices +to come, enduring even the agony (next to hair-cutting in suffering) of +having their ears washed. Conscious of parental eyes, they fronted +the public with boyhood's professional expressionlessness, though they +communicated with each other aside in a cipher-language of their own, +and each group was a hot-bed of furtive gossip and sarcastic comment. +Seated in the windows, they kept out what small breath of air might +otherwise have stolen in to comfort the audience. + +Their elders sat patiently dripping with perspiration, most of the +gentlemen undergoing the unusual garniture of stiffly-starched collars, +those who had not cultivated chin beards to obviate such arduous +necessities of pomp and state, hardly bearing up under the added anxiety +of cravats. However, they sat outwardly meek under the yoke; nearly all +of them seeking a quiet solace of tobacco--not that they smoked; Heaven +and the gallantry of Carlow County forbid--nor were there anywhere +visible tokens of the comforting ministrations of nicotine to violate +the eye of etiquette. It is an art of Plattville. + +Suddenly there was a hum and a stir and a buzz of whispering in the +room. Two gray old men and two pretty young women passed up the aisle to +the platform. One old man was stalwart and ruddy, with a cordial eye +and a handsome, smooth-shaven, big face. The other was bent and trembled +slightly; his face was very white; he had a fine high brow, deeply +lined, the brow of a scholar, and a grandly flowing white beard that +covered his chest, the beard of a patriarch. One of the young women +was tall and had the rosy cheeks and pleasant eyes of her father, who +preceded her. The other was the strange lady. + +A universal perturbation followed her progress up the aisle, if she had +known it. She was small and fair, very daintily and beautifully made; +a pretty Marquise whose head Greuze should have painted. Mrs. Columbus +Landis, wife of the proprietor of the Palace Hotel, conferring with a +lady in the next seat, applied an over-burdened adjective: “It ain't so +much she's han'some, though she is, that--but don't you notice she's got +a kind of smart look to her? Her bein' so teeny, kind of makes it more +so, somehow, too.” What stunned the gossips of the windows to awed +admiration, however, was the unconcerned and stoical fashion in which +she wore a long bodkin straight through her head. It seemed a large +sacrifice merely to make sure one's hat remained in place. + +The party took seats a little to the left and rear of the lecturer's +table, and faced the audience. The strange lady chatted gaily with the +other three, apparently as unconscious of the multitude of eyes fixed +upon her as the gazers were innocent of rude intent. There were pretty +young women in Plattville; Minnie Briscoe was the prettiest, and, as the +local glass of fashion reflected, “the stylishest”; but this girl +was different, somehow, in a way the critics were puzzled to +discover--different, from the sparkle of her eyes and the crown of her +trim sailor hat, to the edge of her snowy duck skirt. + +Judd Bennett sighed a sigh that was heard in every corner of the room. +As everybody immediately turned to look at him, he got up and went out. + +It had long been a jocose fiction of Mr. Martin, who was a widower of +thirty years' standing, that he and the gifted authoress by his side +were in a state of courtship. Now he bent his rugged head toward her +to whisper: “I never thought to see the day you'd have a rival in my +affections. Miss Seliny, but yonder looks like it. I reckon I'll have +to go up to Ben Tinkle's and buy that fancy vest he's had in stock this +last twelve year or more. Will you take me back when she's left the city +again; Miss Seliny?” he drawled. “I expect, maybe, Miss Sherwood is +one of these here summer girls. I've heard of 'em but I never see one +before. You better take warning and watch me--Fisbee won't have no clear +field from now on.” + +The stranger leaned across to speak to Miss Briscoe and her sleeve +touched the left shoulder of the old man with the patriarchal white +beard. A moment later he put his right hand to that shoulder and gently +moved it up and down with a caressing motion over the shabby black +broadcloth her garment had touched. + +“Look at that old Fisbee!” exclaimed Mr. Martin, affecting indignation. +“Never be 'n half as spruced up and wide awake in all his life. He's +prob'ly got her to listen to him on the decorations of Nineveh--it's my +belief he was there when it was destroyed. Well, if I can't cut him out +we'll get our respected young friend of the 'Herald' to do it.” + +“Sh!” returned Miss Tibbs. “Here he is.” + +The seats upon the platform were all occupied, except the two foremost +ones in the centre (one on each side of a little table with a lamp, a +pitcher of ice-water, and a glass) reserved for the lecturer and the +gentleman who was to introduce him. Steps were audible in the hall, and +every one turned to watch the door, where the distinguished pair now +made their appearance in a hush of expectation over which the beating +of the fans alone prevailed. The Hon. Kedge Halloway was one of the +gleaners of the flesh-pots, himself, and he marched into the room +unostentatiously mopping his shining expanse of brow with a figured +handkerchief. He was a person of solemn appearance; a fat gold +watch-chain which curved across his ponderous front, adding mysteriously +to his gravity. At his side strolled a very tall, thin, rather +stooping--though broad-shouldered--rather shabby young man with a +sallow, melancholy face and deep-set eyes that looked tired. When they +were seated, the orator looked over his audience slowly and with an +incomparable calm; then, as is always done, he and the melancholy young +man exchanged whispers for a few moments. After this there was a pause, +at the end of which the latter rose and announced that it was his +pleasure and his privilege to introduce, that evening, a gentleman who +needed no introduction to that assemblage. What citizen of Carlow needed +an introduction, asked the speaker, to the orator they had applauded +in the campaigns of the last twenty years, the statesman author of +the Halloway Bill, the most honored citizen of the neighboring and +flourishing county and city of Amo? And, the speaker would say, that if +there were one thing the citizens of Carlow could be held to envy the +citizens of Amo, it was the Honorable Kedge Halloway, the thinker, +to whose widely-known paper they were about to have the pleasure and +improvement of listening. + +The introduction was so vehemently applauded that, had there been +present a person connected with the theatrical profession, he might have +been nervous for fear the introducer had prepared no encore. “Kedge is +too smart to take it all to himself,” commented Mr. Martin. “He knows +it's half account of the man that said it.” + +He was not mistaken. Mr. Halloway had learned a certain perceptiveness +on the stump. Resting one hand upon his unfolded notes upon the table, +he turned toward the melancholy young man (who had subsided into the +small of his back in his chair) and, after clearing his throat, observed +with sudden vehemence that he must thank his gifted friend for his +flattering remarks, but that when he said that Carlow envied Amo a +Halloway, it must be replied that Amo grudged no glory to her sister +county of Carlow, but, if Amo could find envy in her heart it would be +because Carlow possessed a paper so sterling, so upright, so brilliant, +so enterprising as the “Carlow County Herald,” and a journalist so +talented, so gifted, so energetic, so fearless, as its editor. + +The gentleman referred to showed very faint appreciation of these +ringing compliments. There was a lamp on the table beside him, against +which, to the view of Miss Sherwood of Rouen, his face was silhouetted, +and very rarely had it been her lot to see a man look less enthusiastic +under public and favorable comment of himself. She wondered if he, +also, remembered the Muggleton cricket match and the subsequent dinner +oratory. + +The lecture proceeded. The orator winged away to soary heights with +gestures so vigorous as to cause admiration for his pluck in making use +of them on such a night; the perspiration streamed down his face, his +neck grew purple, and he dared the very face of apoplexy, binding his +auditors with a double spell. It is true that long before the peroration +the windows were empty and the boys were eating stolen, unripe fruit in +the orchards of the listeners. The thieves were sure of an alibi. + +The Hon. Mr. Halloway reached a logical conclusion which convinced even +the combative and unwilling that the present depends largely upon the +past, while the future will be determined, for the most part, by the +conditions of the present. “The future,” he cried, leaning forward with +an expression of solemn warning, “The future is in our own hands, ladies +and gentlemen of the city of Plattville. Is it not so? We will find it +so. Turn it over in your minds.” He leaned backward and folded his hands +benevolently on his stomach and said in a searching whisper; “Ponder +it.” He waited for them to ponder it, and little Mr. Swanter, the +druggist and bookseller, who prided himself on his politeness and who +was seated directly in front, scratched his head and knit his brows +to show that he was pondering it. The stillness was intense; the fans +ceased to beat; Mr. Snoddy could be heard breathing dangerously. Mr. +Swanter was considering the advisability of drawing a pencil from his +pocket and figuring on it upon his cuff, when suddenly, with the energy +of a whirlwind, the lecturer threw out his arms to their fullest extent +and roared: “It is a _fact_! It is carven on stone in the gloomy caverns +of TIME. It is writ in FIRE on the imperishable walls of Fate!” + +After the outburst, his voice sank with startling rapidity to a tone of +honeyed confidence, and he wagged an inviting forefinger at Mr. +Snoddy, who opened his mouth. “Shall we take an example? Not from the +marvellous, my friends; let us seek an illustration from the ordinary. +Is that not better? One familiar to the humblest of us. One we can all +comprehend. One from our every-day life. One which will interest even +the young. Yes. The common house-fly. On a window-sill we place a bit +of fly-paper, and contiguous to it, a flower upon which the happy +insect likes to feed and rest. The little fly approaches. See, he hovers +between the two. One is a fatal trap, an ambuscade, and the other a +safe harbor and an innocuous haven. But mystery allures him. He poises, +undecided. That is the present. That, my friends, is the Present! What +will he do? WHAT will he do? What will he DO? Memories of the past +are whispering to him: 'Choose the flower. Light on the posy.' Here we +clearly see the influence of the past upon the present. But, to employ a +figure of speech, the fly-paper beckons to the insect toothsomely, and, +thinks he; 'Shall I give it a try? Shall I? Shall I give it a try?' The +future is in his own hands to make or unmake. The past, the voice of +Providence, has counselled him: 'Leave it alone, leave it alone, little +fly. Go away from there.' Does he heed the warning? Does he heed it, +ladies and gentlemen? Does he? Ah, no! He springs into the air, decides +between the two attractions, one of them, so deadly to his interests +and--_drops upon the fly-paper to perish miserably_! The future is in +his hands no longer. We must lie upon the bed that we have made, nor can +Providence change its unalterable decrees.” + +After the tragedy, the orator took a swallow of water, mopped his brow +with the figured handkerchief and announced that a new point herewith +presented itself for consideration. The audience sank back with a gasp +of release from the strain of attention. Minnie Briscoe, leaning back, +breathless like the others, became conscious that a tremor agitated +her visitor. Miss Sherwood had bent her head behind the shelter of the +judge's broad shoulders; was shaking slightly and had covered her face +with her hands. + +“What is it, Helen?” whispered Miss Briscoe, anxiously. “What is it? Is +something the matter?” + +“Nothing. Nothing, dear.” She dropped her hands from her face. Her +cheeks were deep crimson, and she bit her lip with determination. + +“Oh, but there is! Why, you've tears in your eyes. Are you faint? What +is it?” + +“It is only--only----” Miss Sherwood choked, then cast a swift glance at +the profile of the melancholy young man. The perfectly dismal decorum of +this gentleman seemed to inspire her to maintain her own gravity. “It +is only that it seemed such a pity about that fly,” she explained. From +where they sat the journalistic silhouette was plainly visible, and both +Fisbee and Miss Sherwood looked toward it often, the former with the +wistful, apologetic fidelity one sees in the eyes of an old setter +watching his master. + +When the lecture was over many of the audience pressed forward to shake +the Hon. Mr. Halloway's hand. Tom Martin hooked his arm in that of the +sallow gentleman and passed out with him. + +“Mighty humanizin' view Kedge took of that there insect,” remarked Mr. +Martin. “I don't recollect I ever heard of no mournfuller error +than that'n. I noticed you spoke of Halloway as a 'thinker,' without +mentioning what kind. I didn't know, before, that you were as cautious a +man as that.” + +“Does your satire find nothing sacred, Martin?” returned the other, “not +even the Honorable Kedge Halloway?” + +“I wouldn't presume,” replied old Tom, “to make light of the catastrophe +that overtook the heedless fly. When Halloway went on to other subjects +I was so busy picturin' the last moments of that closin' life, stuck +there in the fly-paper, I couldn't listen to him. But there's no use +dwellin' on a sorrow we can't help. Look at the moon; it's full enough +to cheer us up.” They had emerged from the court-house and paused on +the street as the stream of townsfolk divided and passed by them to take +different routes leading from the Square. Not far away, some people were +getting into a buckboard. Fisbee and Miss Sherwood were already on the +rear seat. + +“Who's with him, to-night, Mr. Fisbee?” asked Judge Briscoe in a low +voice. + +“No one. He is going directly to the office. To-morrow is Thursday, one +of our days of publication.” + +“Oh, then it's all right. Climb in, Minnie, we're waiting for you.” The +judge offered his hand to his daughter. + +“In a moment, father,” she answered. “I'm going to ask him to call,” she +said to the other girl. + +“But won't he--” + +Miss Briscoe laughed. “He never comes to see me!” She walked over +to where Martin and the young man were looking up at the moon, and +addressed the journalist. + +“I've been trying to get a chance to speak to you for a week,” she said, +offering him her hand; “I wanted to tell you I had a friend coming to +visit me Won't you come to see us? She's here.” + +The young man bowed. “Thank you,” he answered. “Thank you, very much. I +shall be very glad.” His tone had the meaningless quality of perfunctory +courtesy; Miss Briscoe detected only the courtesy; but the strange lady +marked the lack of intention in his words. + +“Don't you include me, Minnie?” inquired Mr Martin, plaintively. “I'll +try not to be too fascinatin', so as to give our young friend a show. It +was love at first sight with me. I give Miss Seliny warning soon as your +folks come in and I got a good look at the lady.” + +As the buckboard drove away, Miss Sherwood, who had been gazing +steadfastly at the two figures still standing in the street, the tall +ungainly old one, and the taller, loosely-held young one (he had not +turned to look at her) withdrew her eyes from them, bent them seriously +upon Fisbee, and asked: “What did you mean when you said no one was with +him to-night?” + +“That no one was watching him,” he answered. + +“Watching him? I don't understand.” + +“Yes; he has been shot at from the woods at night and----” + +The girl shivered. “But who watches him?” + +“The young men of the town. He has a habit of taking long walks after +dark, and he is heedless of all remonstrance. He laughs at the idea +of curtailing the limit of his strolls or keeping within the town when +night has fallen; so the young men have organized a guard for him, and +every evening one of them follows him until he goes to the office to +work for the night. It is a different young man every evening, and the +watcher follows at a distance so that he does not suspect.” + +“But how many people know of this arrangement?” + +“Nearly every one in the county except the Cross-Roads people, though it +is not improbable that they have discovered it.” + +“And has no one told him” + +“No; it would annoy him; he would not allow it to continue. He will not +even arm himself.” + +“They follow and watch him night after night, and every one knows and no +one tells him? Oh, I must say,” cried the girl, “I think these are good +people.” + +The stalwart old man on the front seat shook out the reins and whined +the whip over his roans' backs. “They are the people of your State and +mine. Miss Sherwood,” he said in his hearty voice, “the best people in +God's world--and I'm not running for Congress, either!” + +“But how about the Six-Cross-Roads people, father?” asked Minnie. + +“We'll wipe them clean out some day,” answered her father--“possibly +judicially, possibly----” + +“Surely judiciously?” suggested Miss Sherwood. + +“If you care to see what a bad settlement looks like, we'll drive +through there to-morrow--by daylight,” said Briscoe. “Even the doctor +doesn't insist on being in that neighborhood after dark. They are trying +their best to get Harkless, and if they do----” + +“If they do!” repeated Miss Sherwood. She clasped Fisbee's hand gently. +His eyes shone and he touched her fingers with a strange, shy reverence. + +“You will meet him to-morrow,” he said. + +She laughed and pressed his hand. “I'm afraid not. He wasn't even +interested enough to look at me.” + + + + +CHAPTER III. LONESOMENESS + +When the rusty hands of the office clock marked half-past four, the +editor-in-chief of the “Carlow County Herald” took his hand out of his +hair, wiped his pen on his last notice from the White-Caps, put on his +coat, swept out the close little entry, and left the sanctum for the +bright June afternoon. + +He chose the way to the west, strolling thoughtfully out of town by the +white, hot, deserted Main Street, and thence onward by the country +road into which its proud half-mile of old brick store buildings, +tumbled-down frame shops and thinly painted cottages degenerated. The +sun was in his face, where the road ran between the summer fields, lying +waveless, low, gracious in promise; but, coming to a wood of hickory and +beech and walnut that stood beyond, he might turn his down-bent-hat-brim +up and hold his head erect. Here the shade fell deep and cool on the +green tangle of rag and iron weed and long grass in the corners of the +snake fence, although the sun beat upon the road so dose beside. There +was no movement in the crisp young leaves overhead; high in the boughs +there was a quick flirt of crimson where two robins hopped noiselessly. +No insect raised resentment of the lonesomeness: the late afternoon, +when the air is quite still, had come; yet there rested--somewhere--on +the quiet day, a faint, pleasant, woody smell. It came to the editor of +the “Herald” as he climbed to the top rail of the fence for a seat, +and he drew a long, deep breath to get the elusive odor more +luxuriously--and then it was gone altogether. + +“A habit of delicacies,” he said aloud, addressing the wide silence +complainingly. He drew a faded tobacco-bag and a brier pipe from his +coat pocket and filled and lit the pipe. “One taste--and they quit,” he +finished, gazing solemnly upon the shining little town down the road. +He twirled the pouch mechanically about his finger, and then, suddenly +regarding it, patted it caressingly. It had been a giddy little bag, +long ago, satin, and gay with embroidery in the colors of the editor's +university; and although now it was frayed to the verge of tatters, it +still bore an air of pristine jauntiness, an air of which its owner in +no wise partook. He looked from it over the fields toward the town in +the clear distance and sighed softly as he put the pouch back in his +pocket, and, resting his arm on his knee and his chin in his hand, sat +blowing clouds of smoke out of the shade into the sunshine, absently +watching the ghostly shadows dance on the white dust of the road. + +A little garter snake crept under the fence beneath him and disappeared +in the underbrush; a rabbit progressing timidly on his travels by a +series of brilliant dashes and terror-smitten halts, came within a few +yards of him, sat up with quivering nose and eyes alight with fearful +imaginings--vanished, a flash of fluffy brown and white. Shadows grew +longer; the brier pipe sputtered feebly in depletion and was refilled. A +cricket chirped and heard answer; there was a woodland stir of breezes; +and the pair of robins left the branches overhead in eager flight, +vacating before the arrival of a great flock of blackbirds hastening +thither ere the eventide should be upon them. The blackbirds came, +chattered, gossiped, quarrelled, and beat each other with their wings +above the smoker sitting on the top fence rail. + +But he had remembered--it was Commencement. To-day, a thousand miles to +the east, a company of grave young gentlemen sat in semi-circular rows +before a central altar, while above them rose many tiers of mothers and +sisters and sweethearts, listening to the final word. He could see it +all very clearly: the lines of freshly shaven, boyish faces, the dainty +gowns, the flowers and bright eyes above, and the light that filtered +in through stained glass to fall softly over them all, with, here and +there, a vivid splash of color, Gothic shaped. He could see the throngs +of white-clad loungers under the elms without, under-classmen, bored by +the Latin addresses and escaped to the sward and breeze of the campus; +there were the troops of roistering graduates trotting about arm in arm, +and singing; he heard the mandolins on the little balconies play an old +refrain and the university cheering afterward; saw the old professor he +had cared for most of all, with the thin white hair straggling over his +silken hood, following the band in the sparse ranks of his class. And he +saw his own Commencement Day--and the station at the junction where he +stood the morning after, looking across the valley at the old towers +for the last time; saw the broken groups of his class, standing upon the +platform on the other side of the tracks, waiting for the south-bound +train as he and others waited for the north-bound--and they all sang +“Should auld acquaintance be forgot;” and, while they looked across at +each other, singing, the shining rails between them wavered and blurred +as the engine rushed in and separated them and their lives thenceforth. +He filled his pipe again and spoke to the phantoms gliding over the +dust--“Seven years!” He was occupied with the realization that there had +been a man in his class whose ambition needed no restraint, his promise +was so complete--in the strong belief of the university, a belief +he could not help knowing--and that seven years to a day from his +Commencement this man was sitting on a fence rail in Indiana. + +Down the road a buggy came creaking toward him, gray with dust, the top +canted permanently to one side, old and frayed, like the fat, shaggy, +gray mare that drew it; her unchecked, despondent head lowering before +her, while her incongruous tail waved incessantly, like the banner of a +storming party. The editor did not hear the flop of the mare's feet nor +the sound of the wheels, so deep was his reverie, till the vehicle was +nearly opposite him. The red-faced and perspiring driver drew rein, and +the journalist looked up and waved a long white hand to him in greeting. + +“Howdy' do, Mr. Harkless?” called the man in the buggy. “Soakin' in the +weather?” He spoke in shouts, though neither was hard of hearing. + +“Yes; just soaking,” answered Harkless; “it's such a gypsy day. How is +Mr. Bowlder?” + +“I'm givin' good satisfaction, thankye, and all at home. She's in town; +goin' in after her now.” + +“Give Mrs. Bowlder my regards,” said the journalist, comprehending the +symbolism. “How is Hartley?” + +The farmer's honest face shaded over, a second. “He's be'n steady ever +sence the night you brought him out home; six weeks straight. I'm kind +of bothered about to-morrow--It's show-day and he wants to come in town +with us, and seems if I hadn't any call to say no. I reckon he'll have +to take his chances--and us, too.” He raised the reins and clucked to +the gray mare; “Well, she'll be mad I ain't there long ago. Ride in with +me?” + +“No, I thank you. I'll walk in for the sake of my appetite.” + +“Wouldn't encourage it _too_ much--livin' at the Palace Hotel,'” + observed Bowlder. “Sorry ye won't ride.” He gathered the loose ends of +the reins in his hands, leaned far over the dashboard and struck the +mare a hearty thwack; the tattered banner of tail jerked indignantly, +but she consented to move down the road. Bowlder thrust his big head +through the sun-curtain behind him and continued the conversation: “See +the White-Caps ain't got ye yet.” + +“No, not yet.” Harkless laughed. + +“Reckon the boys 'druther ye stayed in town after dark,” the other +called back; then, as the mare stumbled into a trot, “Well, come out and +see us--if ye kin spare time from the jedge's.” The latter clause seemed +to be an afterthought intended with humor, for Bowlder accompanied it +with the loud laughter of sylvan timidity, risking a joke. Harkless +nodded without the least apprehension of his meaning, and waved farewell +as Bowlder finally turned his attention to the mare. When the flop, +flop of her hoofs had died out, the journalist realized that the day was +silent no longer; it was verging into evening. + +He dropped from the fence and turned his face toward town and supper. He +felt the light and life about him; heard the clatter of the blackbirds +above him; heard the homing bees hum by, and saw the vista of white road +and level landscape, framed on two sides by the branches of the grove, +a vista of infinitely stretching fields of green, lined here and there +with woodlands and flat to the horizon line, the village lying in their +lap. No roll of meadow, no rise of pasture land, relieved their serenity +nor shouldered up from them to be called a hill. A second great flock of +blackbirds was settling down over the Plattville maples. As they hung +in the fair dome of the sky below the few white clouds, it occurred to +Harkless that some supping god had inadvertently peppered his custard, +and now inverted and emptied his gigantic blue dish upon the earth, +the innumerable little black dots seeming to poise for a moment, then +floating slowly down from the heights. + +A farm-bell rang in the distance, a tinkling coming small and mellow +from far away, and at the lonesomeness of that sound he heaved a long, +mournful sigh. The next instant he broke into laughter, for another bell +rang over the fields, the court-house bell in the Square. The first +four strokes were given with mechanical regularity, the pride of +the custodian who operated the bell being to produce the effect of a +clock-work bell such as he had once heard in the court-house at Rouen; +but the fifth and sixth strokes were halting achievements, as, after +four o'clock, he often lost count on the strain of the effort for +precise imitation. There was a pause after the sixth, then a dubious and +reluctant stroke--seven--a longer pause, followed by a final ring with +desperate decision--eight! Harkless looked at his watch; it was twenty +minutes of six. + +As he crossed the court-house yard to the Palace Hotel, he stopped to +exchange a word with the bell-ringer, who, seated on the steps, was +mopping his brow with an air of hard-earned satisfaction. + +“Good-evening, Schofields',” he said. “You came in strong on the last +stroke, to-night.” + +“What we need here,” responded the bell-ringer, “is more public-spirited +men. I ain't kickin' on you, Mr. Harkless, no sir; but we want more men +like they got in Rouen; we want men that'll git Main Street paved with +block or asphalt; men that'll put in factories, men that'll act and not +set round like that ole fool Martin and laugh and polly-woggle and make +fun of public sperrit, day in and out. I reckon I do my best for the +city.” + +“Oh, nobody minds Tom Martin,” answered Harkless. “It's only half the +time he means anything by what he says.” + +“That's jest what I hate about him,” returned the bell-ringer in a tone +of high complaint; “you can't never tell which half it is. Look at him +now!” Over in front of the hotel Martin was standing, talking to the row +of coatless loungers who sat with their chairs tilted back against the +props of the wooden awning that projected over the sidewalk. Their faces +were turned toward the court-house, and even those lost in meditative +whittling had looked up to laugh. Martin, his hands in the pockets of +his alpaca coat, his rusty silk hat tilted forward till the wide brim +rested almost on the bridge of his nose, was addressing them in his +one-keyed voice, the melancholy whine of which, though not the words, +penetrated to the court-house steps. + +The bell-ringer, whose name was Henry Schofield, but who was known as +Schofield's Henry (popularly abbreviated to Schofields') was moved to +indignation. “Look at him,” he cried. “Look at him! Everlastingly goin' +on about my bell! Let him talk, jest let him talk.” The supper gong +boomed inside the hotel and Harkless bade the bell-ringer good-night. As +he moved away the latter called after him: “He don't disturb nobody. Let +him talk. Who pays any 'tention to him I'd like to know?” There was a +burst of laughter from the whittlers. Schofields' sat in patient silence +for a full minute, as one who knew that no official is too lofty to +escape the anathemas of envy. Then he sprang to his feet and shook his +fist at Martin, who was disappearing within the door of the hotel. “Go +to Halifax!” he shouted. + +The dining-room of the Palace Hotel was a large, airy apartment, +rustling with artistically perforated and slashed pink paper that hung +everywhere, at this season of the year, to lend festal effect as well as +to palliate the scourge of flies. There were six or seven large tables, +all vacant except that at which Columbus Landis, the landlord, sat with +his guests, while his wife and children ate in the kitchen by their own +preference. Transient trade was light in Plattville; nobody ever came +there, except occasional commercial travellers who got out of town the +instant it was possible, and who said awful things if, by the exigencies +of the railway time-table, they were left over night. + +Behind the host's chair stood a red-haired girl in a blue cotton gown; +and in her hand she languidly waved a long instrument made of clustered +strips of green and white and yellow tissue paper fastened to a wooden +wand; with this she amiably amused the flies except at such times as the +conversation proved too interesting, when she was apt to rest it on the +shoulder of one of the guests. This happened each time the editor of +the “Herald” joined in the talk. As the men seated themselves they all +nodded to her and said, “G'd evening, Cynthy.” Harkless always called +her Charmion; no one knew why. When he came in she moved around the +table to a chair directly opposite him, and held that station throughout +the meal, with her eyes fixed on his face. Mr. Martin noted this +manoeuvre--it occurred regularly twice a day--with a stealthy smile at +the girl, and her light skin flushed while her lip curled shrewishly +at the old gentleman. “Oh, all right, Cynthy,” he whispered to her, and +chuckled aloud at her angry toss of the head. + +“Schofields' seemed to be kind of put out with me this evening,” + he remarked, addressing himself to the company. “He's the most +ungratefullest cuss I ever come up with. I was only oratin' on how +proud the city ought to be of him. He fairly keeps Plattville's sportin' +spirit on the gog; 'die out, wasn't for him. There's be'n more money +laid on him whether he'll strike over and above the hour, or under and +below, or whether he'll strike fifteen minutes before time, or twenty +after, than--well, sir, we'd all forgit the language if it wasn't for +Schofields' bell to keep us talkin'; that's _my_ claim. Dull days, think +of the talk he furnishes all over town. Think what he's done to promote +conversation. Now, for instance, Anna Belle Bardlock's got a beau, they +say”--here old Tom tilted back in his chair and turned an innocent eye +upon a youth across the table, young William Todd, who was blushing over +his griddle-cakes--“and I hear he's a good deal scared of Anna Belle and +not just what you might call brash with her. They say every Sunday night +he'll go up to Bardlocks' and call on Anna Belle from half-past six till +nine, and when he's got into his chair he sets and looks at the floor +and the crayon portraits till about seven; then he opens his tremblin' +lips and says, 'Reckon Schofields' must be on his way to the court-house +by this time.' And about an hour later, when Schofields' hits four +or five, he'll speak up again, 'Say, I reckon he means eight.' 'Long +towards nine o'clock, they say he skews around in his chair and says, +'Wonder if he'll strike before time or after,' and Anna Belle answers +out loud, 'I hope after,' for politeness; but in her soul she says, 'I +pray before'; and then Schofields' hits her up for eighteen or twenty, +and Anna Belle's company reaches for his hat. Three Sundays ago he +turned around before he went out and said, 'Do you like apple-butter?' +but never waited to find out. It's the same programme every Sunday +evening, and Jim Bardlock says Anna Belle's so worn out you wouldn't +hardly know her for the blithe creature she was last year--the +excitement's be'n too much for her!” + +Poor William Todd bent his fiery face over the table and suffered the +general snicker in helpless silence. Then there was quiet for a space, +broken only by the click of knives against the heavy china and the +indolent rustle of Cynthia's fly-brush. + +“Town so still,” observed the landlord, finally, with a complacent +glance at the dessert course of prunes to which his guests were helping +themselves from a central reservoir, “Town so still, hardly seems like +show-day's come round again. Yet there's be'n some shore signs lately: +when my shavers come honeyin' up with, 'Say, pa, ain't they no urrands +I can go for ye, pa? I like to run 'em for you, pa,'--'relse, 'Oh, pa, +ain't they no water I can haul, or nothin', pa?'--'relse, as little +Rosina T. says, this morning, 'Pa, I always pray fer _you_ pa,' and +pa this and pa that-you can rely either Christmas or show-day's mighty +close.” + +William Todd, taking occasion to prove himself recovered from confusion, +remarked casually that there was another token of the near approach of +the circus, as ole Wilkerson was drunk again. + +“There's a man!” exclaimed Mr. Martin with enthusiasm. “There's +the feller for _my_ money! He does his duty as a citizen more +discriminatin'ly on public occasions than any man I ever see. There's +Wilkerson's celebration when there's a funeral; look at the difference +between it and on Fourth of July. Why, sir, it's as melancholy as a +hearse-plume, and sympathy ain't the word for it when he looks at the +remains, no sir; preacher nor undertaker, either, ain't _half_ as blue +and respectful. Then take his circus spree. He come into the store this +afternoon, head up, marchin' like a grenadier and shootin' his hand out +before his face and drawin' it back again, and hollering out, 'Ta, ta, +ta-ra-ta, ta, ta-ta-ra'--why, the dumbest man ever lived could see in +a minute show's 'comin' to-morrow and Wilkerson's playin' the trombone. +Then he'd snort and goggle like an elephant. Got the biggest sense of +appropriateness of any man in the county, Wilkerson has. Folks don't +half appreciate him.” + +As each boarder finished his meal he raided the glass of wooden +toothpicks and went away with no standing on the order of his going; +but Martin waited for Harkless, who, not having attended to business so +concisely as the others, was the last to leave the table, and they stood +for a moment under the awning outside, lighting their cigars. + +“Call on the judge, to-night?” asked Martin. + +“No,” said Harkless. “Why?” + +“Didn't you see the lady with Minnie and the judge at the lecture?” + +“I caught a glimpse of her. That's what Bowlder meant, then.” + +“I don't know what Bowlder meant, but I guess you better go out there, +young man. She might not stay here long.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER + +The Briscoe buckboard rattled along the elastic country-road, the roans +setting a sharp pace as they turned eastward on the pike toward home and +supper. + +“They'll make the eight miles in three-quarters of an hour,” said the +judge, proudly. He pointed ahead with his whip. “Just beyond that bend +we pass through Six-Cross-Roads.” + +Miss Sherwood leaned forward eagerly. “Can we see 'Mr. Wimby's' house +from here?” + +“No, it's on the other side, nearer town; we pass it later. It's the +only respectable-looking house in this township.” They reached the turn +of the road, and the judge touched up his colts to a sharper gait. “No +need of dallying,” he observed quietly. “It always makes me a little +sick just to see the place. I'd hate to have a break-down here.” + +They came in sight of a squalid settlement, built raggedly about a +blacksmith's shop and a saloon. Half-a-dozen shanties clustered near the +forge, a few roofs scattered through the shiftlessly cultivated fields, +four or five barns propped by fence-rails, some sheds with gaping +apertures through which the light glanced from side to side, a squad of +thin, “razor-back” hogs--now and then worried by gaunt hounds--and +some abused-looking hens, groping about disconsolately in the mire, a +broken-topped buggy with a twisted wheel settling into the mud of the +middle of the road (there was always abundant mud, here, in the dryest +summer), a lowering face sneering from a broken window--Six-Cross-Roads +was forbidding and forlorn enough by day. The thought of what +might issue from it by night was unpleasant, and the legends of the +Cross-Roads, together with an unshapen threat, easily fancied in the +atmosphere of the place, made Miss Sherwood shiver as though a cold +draught had crossed her. + +“It is so sinister!” she exclaimed. “And so unspeakably mean! This is +where they live, the people who hate him, is it? The 'White-Caps'?” + +“They are just a lot of rowdies,” replied Briscoe. “You have your rough +corners in big cities, and I expect there are mighty few parts of any +country that don't have their tough neighborhoods, only Six-Cross-Roads +happens to be worse than most. They choose to call themselves +'White-Caps,' but I guess it's just a name they like to give themselves. +Usually White-Caps are a vigilance committee going after rascalities the +law doesn't reach, or won't reach, but these fellows are not that kind. +They got together to wipe out their grudges--and sometimes they didn't +need any grudge and let loose their deviltries just for pure orneriness; +setting haystacks afire and such like; or, where a farmer had offended +them, they would put on their silly toggery and take him out at midnight +and whip him and plunder his house and chase the horses and cattle into +his corn, maybe. They say the women went with them on their raids.” + +“And he was the first to try to stop them?” + +“Well, you see our folks are pretty long-suffering,” Briscoe replied, +apologetically. “We'd sort of got used to the meanness of the +Cross-Roads. It took a stranger to stir things up--and he did. He sent +eight of 'em to the penitentiary, some for twenty years.” + +As they passed the saloon a man stepped into the doorway and looked at +them. He was coatless and clad in garments worn to the color of dust; +his bare head was curiously malformed, higher on one side than on the +other, and though the buckboard passed rapidly, and at a distance, this +singular lopsidedness was plainly visible to the occupants, lending an +ugly significance to his meagre, yellow face. He was tall, lean, hard, +powerfully built. He eyed the strangers with affected languor, and then, +when they had gone by, broke into sudden, loud laughter. + +“That was Bob Skillett, the worst of the lot,” said the judge. “Harkless +sent his son and one brother to prison, and it nearly broke his heart +that he couldn't swear to Bob.” + +When they were beyond the village and in the open road again. Miss +Sherwood took a deep breath. “I think I breathe more freely,” she said. +“That was a hideous laugh he sent after us. I had heard of places +like this before--and I don't think I care to see many of them. As I +understand it, Six-Cross-Roads is entirely vicious, isn't it; and bears +the same relation to the country that the slums do to a city?'” + +“That's about it. They make their own whiskey. I presume; and they have +their own fights amongst themselves, but they settle 'em themselves, +too, and keep their own counsel and hush it up. Lige Willetts, Minnie's +friend--I guess she's told you about Lige?--well, Lige Willetts will go +anywhere when he's following a covey, though mostly the boys leave this +part of the country alone when they're hunting; but Lige got into +a thicket back of the forge one morning, and he came on a crowd of +buzzards quarrelling over a heap on the ground, and he got out in a +hurry. He said he was sure it was a dog; but he ran almost all the way +to Plattville.” + +“Father!” exclaimed his daughter, leaning from the back seat. “Don't +tell such stories to Helen; she'll think we're horrible, and you'll +frighten her, too.” + +“Well, it isn't exactly a lady's story,” said the judge. He glanced at +his guest's face and chuckled. “I guess we won't frighten her much,” he +went on. “Young lady, I don't believe you'd be afraid of many things, +would you? You don't look like it. Besides, the Cross-Roads isn't +Plattville, and the White-Caps have been too scared to do anything much, +except try to get even with the 'Herald,' for the last two years; ever +since it went for them. They're laying for Harkless partly for revenge +and partly because they daren't do anything until he's out of the way.” + +The girl gave a low cry with a sharp intake of breath. “Ah! One grows +tired of this everlasting American patience! Why don't the Plattville +people do something before they----” + +“It's just as I say,” Briscoe answered; “our folks are sort of used to +them. I expect we do about all we can; the boys look after him nights, +and the main trouble is that we can't make him understand he ought to +be more afraid of them. If he'd lived here all his life he would be. +You know there's an old-time feud between the Cross-Roads and our folks; +goes way back into pioneer history and mighty few know anything of it. +Old William Platt and the forefathers of the Bardlocks and Tibbses and +Briscoes and Schofields moved up here from North Carolina a good +deal just to get away from some bad neighbors, mostly Skilletts and +Johnsons--one of the Skilletts had killed old William Platt's two sons. +But the Skilletts and Johnsons followed all the way to Indiana to join +in making the new settlement, and they shot Platt at his cabin door +one night, right where the court-house stands to-day. Then the other +settlers drove them out for good, and they went seven miles west and set +up a still. A band of Indians, on the way to join the Shawnee Prophet at +Tippecanoe, came down on the Cross-Roads, and the Cross-Roaders bought +them off with bad whiskey and sent them over to Plattville. Nearly all +the Plattville men were away, fighting under Harrison, and when they +came back there were only a few half-crazy women and children left. +They'd hid in the woods. + +“The men stopped just long enough to hear how it was, and started for +the Cross-Roads; but the Cross-Roads people caught them in an ambush and +not many of our folks got back. + +“We really never did get even with them, though all the early settlers +lived and died still expecting to see the day when Plattville would go +over and pay off the score. It's the same now as it was then, good stock +with us, bad stock over here; and all the country riff-raff in creation +come and live with 'em when other places get too hot to hold them. Only +one or two of us old folks know what the original trouble was about; but +you ask a Plattville man, to-day, what he thinks of the Cross-Roads and +he'll be mighty apt to say, 'I guess we'll all have to go over there +some time and wipe those hoodlums out.' It's been coming to that a long +time. The work the 'Herald' did has come nearer bringing us even with +Six-Cross-Roads than anything else ever has. Queer, too--a man that's +only lived in Plattville a few years to be settling such an old score +for us. They'll do their best to get him, and if they do there'll be +trouble of an illegal nature. I think our people would go over there +again, but I expect there wouldn't be any ambush this time; and the +pioneers, might rest easier in--” He broke off suddenly and nodded to a +little old man in a buckboard, who was turning off from the road into a +farm lane which led up to a trim cottage with a honeysuckle vine by the +door. “That's Mrs. Wimby's husband,” said the judge in an undertone. + +Miss Sherwood observed that “Mrs. Wimby's husband” was remarkable for +the exceeding plaintiveness of his expression. He was a weazened, blank, +pale-eyed little man, with a thin, white mist of neck whisker; his coat +was so large for him that the sleeves were rolled up from his wrists +with several turns, and, as he climbed painfully to the ground to open +the gate of the lane, it needed no perspicuous eye to perceive that his +trousers had been made for a much larger man, for, as his uncertain foot +left the step of his vehicle, one baggy leg of the garment fell down +over his foot, completely concealing his boot and hanging some inches +beneath. A faintly vexed expression crossed his face as he endeavored +to arrange the disorder, but he looked up and returned Briscoe's bow, +sadly, with an air of explaining that he was accustomed to trouble, and +that the trousers had behaved no worse than he expected. + +No more inoffensive or harmless figure than this feeble little old man +could be imagined; yet his was the distinction of having received a +terrible visit from his neighbors of the Cross-Roads. Mrs. Wimby was a +widow, who owned a comfortable farm, and she had refused every offer +of the neighboring ill-eligible bachelors to share it. However, a +vagabonding tinker won her heart, and after their marriage she continued +to be known as “Mrs. Wimby”; for so complete was the bridegroom's +insignificance that it extended to his name, which proved quite +unrememberable, and he was usually called “Widder-Woman Wimby's +Husband,” or, more simply, “Mr. Wimby.” The bride supplied the needs of +his wardrobe with the garments of her former husband, and, alleging this +proceeding as the cause of their anger, the Cross-Roads raiders, clad +as “White-Caps,” broke into the farmhouse one night, looted it, tore the +old man from his bed, and compelling his wife, who was tenderly devoted +to him, to watch, they lashed him with sapling shoots till he was near +to death. A little yellow cur, that had followed his master on his +wanderings, was found licking the old man's wounds, and they deluged the +dog with kerosene and then threw the poor animal upon a bonfire they had +made, and danced around it in heartiest enjoyment. + +The man recovered, but that was no palliation of the offense to the +mind of a hot-eyed young man from the East, who was besieging the county +authorities for redress and writing brimstone and saltpetre for +his paper. The powers of the county proving either lackadaisical or +timorous, he appealed to those of the State, and he went every night to +sleep at a farmhouse, the owner of which had received a warning from +the “White-Caps.” And one night it befell that he was rewarded, for the +raiders attempted an entrance. He and the farmer and the former's +sons beat off the marauders and did a satisfactory amount of damage in +return. Two of the “White-Caps” they captured and bound, and others they +recognized. Then the State authorities hearkened to the voice of the +“Herald” and its owner; there were arrests, and in the course of time +there was a trial. Every prisoner proved an alibi, could have proved a +dozen; but the editor of the “Herald,” after virtually conducting the +prosecution, went upon the stand and swore to man after man. Eight men +went to the penitentiary on his evidence, five of them for twenty years. +The Plattville Brass Band serenaded the editor of the “Herald” again. + +There were no more raids, and the Six-Cross-Roads men who were left kept +to their hovels, appalled and shaken, but, as time went by and left them +unmolested, they recovered a measure of their hardiness and began to +think on what they should do to the man who had brought misfortune +and terror upon them. For a long time he had been publishing their +threatening letters and warnings in a column which he headed: “Humor of +the Day.” + +“Harkless don't understand the Cross-Roads,” Briscoe said to Miss +Sherwood as they left the Wimby farm behind; “and then he's like most +of us; hardly any of us realizes that harm's ever going to come to _us_. +Harkless was anxious enough about other people, but----” + +The young lady interrupted him, touching his arm. “Look!” she said, +“Didn't you see a child, a little girl, ahead of us on the road?” + +“I noticed one a minute ago, but she's not there now,” answered Briscoe. + +“There was a child walking along the road just ahead, but she turned and +saw us coming, and she disappeared in the most curious way; she seemed +to melt into the weeds at the roadside, across from the elder-bush +yonder.” + +The judge pulled in the horses by the elder-bush. “No child here, now,” + he said, “but you're right; there certainly was one, just before +you spoke.” The young corn was low in the fields, and there was no +hiding-place in sight. + +“I'm very superstitious; I am sure it was an imp,” Miss Sherwood said. +“An imp or a very large chameleon; she was exactly the color of the +road.” + +“A Cross-Roads imp,” said the judge, lifting the reins, “and in that +case we might as well give up. I never set up to be a match for those +people, and the children are as mean as their fathers, and smarter.” + +When the buckboard had rattled on a hundred yards or so, a little figure +clad in a tattered cotton gown rose up from the weeds, not ten feet from +where the judge had drawn rein, and continued its march down the road +toward Plattville, capering in the dust and pursuing the buckboard with +malignant gestures till the clatter of the horses was out of hearing, +the vehicle out of sight. + + + +Something over two hours later, as Mr. Martin was putting things to +rights in his domain, the Dry-Goods Emporium, previous to his departure +for the evening's gossip and checkers at the drug-store, he stumbled +over something soft, lying on the floor behind a counter. The thing +rose, and would have evaded him, but he put out his hands and pinioned +it and dragged it to the show-window where the light of the fading +day defined his capture. The capture shrieked and squirmed and fought +earnestly. Grasped by the shoulder he held a lean, fierce-eyed, +undersized girl of fourteen, clad in one ragged cotton garment, unless +the coat of dust she wore over all may be esteemed another. Her cheeks +were sallow, and her brow was already shrewdly lined, and her eyes were +as hypocritical as they were savage. She was very thin and little, but +old Tom's brown face grew a shade nearer white when the light fell upon +her. + +“You're no Plattville girl,” he said sharply. + +“You lie!” cried the child. “You lie! I am! You leave me go, will you? +I'm lookin' fer pap and you're a liar!” + +“You crawled in here to sleep, after your seven-mile walk, didn't you?” + Martin went on. + +“You're a liar,” she screamed again. + +“Look here,” said Martin, slowly, “you go back to Six-Cross-Roads and +tell your folks that if anything happens to a hair of Mr. Harkless's +head every shanty in your town will burn, and your grandfather and +your father and your uncles and your brothers and your cousins and your +second-cousins and your third-cousins will never have the good luck to +see the penitentiary. Reckon you can remember that message? But before +I let you go to carry it, I guess you might as well hand out the paper +they sent you over here with.” + +His prisoner fell into a paroxysm of rage, and struck at him. + +“I'll git pap to kill ye,” she shrieked. “I don' know nothin' 'bout yer +Six-Cross-Roads, ner no papers, ner yer dam Mister Harkels neither, ner +_you_, ye razor-backed ole devil! Pap'll kill ye; leave me go--leave +me _go_!--Pap'll kill ye; I'll git him to _kill_ ye!” Suddenly her +struggles ceased; her eyes closed; her tense little muscles relaxed and +she drooped toward the floor; the old man shifted his grip to support +her, and in an instant she twisted out of his hands and sprang out of +reach, her eyes shining with triumph and venom. + +“Ya-hay, Mister Razor-back!” she shrilled. “How's that fer hi? Pap'll +kill ye, Sunday. You'll be screechin' in hell in a week, an' we 'ull set +up an' drink our apple-jack an' laff!” Martin pursued her lumberingly, +but she was agile as a monkey, and ran dodging up and down the counters +and mocked him, singing “Gran' mammy Tipsy-Toe,” till at last she tired +of the game and darted out of the door, flinging back a hoarse laugh at +him as she went. He followed; but when he reached the street she was +a mere shadow flitting under the courthouse trees. He looked after her +forebodingly, then turned his eyes toward the Palace Hotel. The editor +of the “Herald” was seated under the awning, with his chair tilted back +against a post, gazing dreamily at the murky red afterglow in the west. + +“What's the use of tryin' to bother him with it?” old Tom asked himself. +“He'd only laugh.” He noted that young William Todd sat near the editor, +whittling absently. Martin chuckled. “William's turn to-night,” he +muttered. “Well, the boys take mighty good care of him.” He locked the +doors of the Emporium, tried them, and dropped the keys in his pocket. + +As he crossed the Square to the drug-store, where his cronies awaited +him, he turned again to look at the figure of the musing journalist. “I +hope he'll go out to the judge's,” he said, and shook his head, sadly. +“I don't reckon Plattville's any too spry for that young man. Five years +he's be'n here. Well, it's a good thing for us folks, but I guess it +ain't exactly high-life for him.” He kicked a stick out of his way +impatiently. “Now, where'd that imp run to?” he grumbled. + +The imp was lying under the court-house steps. When the sound of +Martin's footsteps had passed away, she crept cautiously from her +hiding-place and stole through the ungroomed grass to the fence opposite +the hotel. Here she stretched herself flat in the weeds and took from +underneath the tangled masses of her hair, where it was tied with a +string, a rolled-up, crumpled slip of greasy paper. With this in +her fingers, she lay peering under the fence, her fierce eyes fixed +unwinkingly on Harkless and the youth sitting near him. + +The street ran flat and gray in the slowly gathering dusk, straight +to the western horizon where the sunset embers were strewn in long, +dark-red streaks; the maple trees were clean-cut silhouettes against the +pale rose and pearl tints of the sky above, and a tenderness seemed to +tremble in the air. Harkless often vowed to himself he would watch no +more sunsets in Plattville; he realized that their loveliness lent a +too unhappy tone to the imaginings and introspections upon which he was +thrown by the loneliness of the environment, and he considered that he +had too much time in which to think about himself. For five years +his introspections had monotonously hurled one word at him: “Failure; +Failure! Failure!” He thought the sunsets were making him morbid. Could +he have shared them, that would have been different. + +His long, melancholy face grew longer and more melancholy in the +twilight, while William Todd patiently whittled near by. Plattville +had often discussed the editor's habit of silence, and Mr. Martin had +suggested that possibly the reason Mr. Harkless was such a quiet man was +that there was nobody for him to talk to. His hearers did not agree, for +the population of Carlow County was a thing of pride, being greater +than that of several bordering counties. They did agree, however, that +Harkless's quiet was not unkind, whatever its cause, and that when it +was broken it was usually broken to conspicuous effect. Perhaps it was +because he wrote so much that he hated to talk. + +A bent figure came slowly down the street, and William hailed it +cheerfully: “Evening, Mr. Fisbee.” + +“A good evening, Mr. Todd,” answered the old man, pausing. “Ah, Mr. +Harkless, I was looking for you.” He had not seemed to be looking for +anything beyond the boundaries of his own dreams, but he approached +Harkless, tugging nervously at some papers in his pocket. “I have +completed my notes for our Saturday edition. It was quite easy; there is +much doing.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Fisbee,” said Harkless, as he took the manuscript. “Have +you finished your paper on the earlier Christian symbolism? I hope the +'Herald' may have the honor of printing it.” This was the form they +used. + +“I shall be the recipient of honor, sir,” returned Fisbee. “Your kind +offer will speed my work; but I fear, Mr. Harkless, I very much fear, +that your kindness alone prompts it, for, deeply as I desire it, +I cannot truthfully say that my essays appear to increase our +circulation.” He made an odd, troubled gesture as he went on: “They do +not seem to read them here, Mr. Harkless, although Mr. Martin assures me +that he carefully peruses my article on Chaldean decoration whenever he +rearranges his exhibition windows, and I bear in mind the clipping from +a Rouen paper you showed me, commenting generously upon the scholarship +of the 'Herald.' But for fifteen years I have tried to improve the art +feeling in Plattville, and I may say that I have worked in the face +of no small discouragement. In fact,” (there was a slight quaver in +Fisbee's voice), “I cannot remember that I ever received the slightest +word or token of encouragement till you came, Mr. Harkless. Since then +I have labored with refreshed energy; still, I cannot claim that our +architecture shows a change for the better, and I fear the engravings +upon the walls of our people exhibit no great progress in selection. +And--I--I wish also to say, Mr. Harkless, if you find it necessary to +make some alterations in the form of my reportorial items for Saturday's +issue, I shall perfectly understand, remembering your explanation that +journalism demands it. Good-evening, Mr. Harkless. Good-evening, Mr. +Todd.” He plodded on a few paces, then turned, irresolutely. + +“What is it, Fisbee?” asked Harkless. + +Fisbee stood for a moment, as though about to speak, then he smiled +faintly, shook his head, and went his way. Harkless stared after him, +surprised. It suddenly struck him, with a feeling of irritation, that +if Fisbee had spoken it would have been to advise him to call at Judge +Briscoe's. He laughed impatiently at the notion, and, drawing his pencil +and a pad from his pocket, proceeded to injure his eyes in the waning +twilight by the editorial perusal of the items his staff had just +left in his hands. When published, the manuscript came under a flaring +heading, bequeathed by Harkless's predecessor in the chair of the +“Herald,” and the alteration of which he felt Plattville would refuse to +sanction: “Happenings of Our City.” Below, was printed in smaller type: +“Improvements in the World of Business,” and, beneath that, came the +rubric: “Also, the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb.” + +The first of Fisbee's items was thus recorded: “It may be noted that +the new sign-board of Mr. H. Miller has been put in place. We cannot but +regret that Mr. Miller did not instruct the painter to confine himself +to a simpler method of lettering.” + +“Ah, Fisbee,” murmured the editor, reproachfully, “that new sign-board +is almost the only improvement in the World of Business Plattville has +seen this year. I wonder how many times we have used it from the first, +'It is rumored in business circles that Herve Miller contemplates'--to +the exciting, 'Under Way,' and, 'Finishing Touches.' My poor White +Knight, are five years of training wasted on you? Sometimes you make me +fear it. Here is Plattville panting for our story of the hanging of +the sign, and you throw away the climax like that!” He began to write +rapidly, bending low over the pad in the half darkness. His narrative +was an amplification of the interesting information (already possessed +by every inhabitant) that Herve Miller had put up a new sign. After a +paragraph of handsome description, “Herve is always enterprising,” wrote +the editor. “This is a move in the right direction. Herve, keep it up.” + +He glanced over the other items meditatively, making alterations here +and there. The last two Fisbee had written as follows: + +“There is noticeable in the new (and somewhat incongruous) portico +erected by Solomon Tibbs at the residence of Mr. Henry Tibbs Willetts, +an attempt at rococo decoration which cannot fail to sadden the +passer-by.” + +“Miss Sherwood of Rouen, whom Miss Briscoe knew at the Misses Jennings' +finishing-school in New York, is a guest of Judge Briscoe's household.” + +Fisbee's items were written in ink; and there was a blank space beneath +the last. At the bottom of the page something had been scribbled in +pencil. Harkless tried vainly to decipher it, but the twilight had +fallen too deep, and the writing was too faint, so he struck a match +and held it close to the paper. The action betokened only a languid +interest, but when he caught sight of the first of the four subscribed +lines he sat up straight in his chair with an ejaculation. At the bottom +of Fisbee's page was written in a dainty, feminine hand, of a type he +had not seen for years: + + “'The time has come,' the Walrus said, + 'To talk of many things: + Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- + And cabbages--and kings--'” + +He put the paper in his pocket, and set off rapidly down the village +street. + +At his departure William Todd looked up quickly; then he got upon his +feet and quietly followed the editor. In the dusk a tattered little +figure rose up from the weeds across the way, and stole noiselessly +after William. He was in his shirt-sleeves, his waistcoat unbuttoned and +loose. On the nearest corner Mr. Todd encountered a fellow-townsman, +who had been pacing up and down in front of a cottage, crooning to a +protestive baby held in his arms. He had paused in his vigil to stare +after Harkless. + +“Whereas he bound for, William?” inquired the man with the baby. + +“Briscoes',” answered William, pursuing his way. + +“I reckoned he would be,” commented the other, turning to his wife, who +sat on the doorstep, “I reckoned so when I see that lady at the lecture +last night.” + +The woman rose to her feet. “Hi, Bill Todd!” she said. “What you got +onto the back of your vest?” William paused, put his hand behind him and +encountered a paper pinned to the dangling strap of his waistcoat. The +woman ran to him and unpinned the paper. It bore a writing. They took it +to where the yellow lamp-light shone through the open door, and read: + + “der Sir + “FoLer harkls aL yo ples an gaRd him yoR + best venagesn is closteR, harkls not Got 3 das to liv + “We come in Wite.” + +“What ye think, William?” asked the man with the baby, anxiously. But +the woman gave the youth a sharp push with her hand. “They never dast to +do it!” she cried. “Never in the world! You hurry, Bill Todd. Don't you +leave him out of your sight one second.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. AT THE PASTURE BARS: ELDER-BUSHES MAY HAVE STINGS + +The street upon which the Palace Hotel fronted formed the south side of +the Square and ran west to the edge of the town, where it turned to the +south for a quarter of a mile or more, then bent to the west again. Some +distance from this second turn, there stood, fronting close on the road, +a large brick house, the most pretentious mansion in Carlow County. +And yet it was a homelike place, with its red-brick walls embowered in +masses of cool Virginia creeper, and a comfortable veranda crossing the +broad front, while half a hundred stalwart sentinels of elm and beech +and poplar stood guard around it. The front walk was bordered by +geraniums and hollyhocks; and honeysuckle climbed the pillars of the +porch. Behind the house there was a shady little orchard; and, back of +the orchard, an old-fashioned, very fragrant rose-garden, divided by a +long grape arbor, extended to the shallow waters of a wandering creek; +and on the bank a rustic seat was placed, beneath the sycamores. + +From the first bend of the road, where it left the town and became +(after some indecision) a country highway--called the pike--rather than +a proud city boulevard, a pathway led through the fields to end at some +pasture bars opposite the brick house. + +John Harkless was leaning on the pasture bars. The stars were wan, and +the full moon shone over the fields. Meadows and woodlands lay quiet +under the old, sweet marvel of a June night. In the wide monotony of +the flat lands, there sometimes comes a feeling that the whole earth is +stretched out before one. To-night it seemed to lie so, in the pathos of +silent beauty, all passive and still; yet breathing an antique message, +sad, mysterious, reassuring. But there had come a divine melody adrift +on the air. Through the open windows it floated. Indoors some one struck +a peal of silver chords, like a harp touched by a lover, and a woman's +voice was lifted. John Harkless leaned on the pasture bars and listened +with upraised head and parted lips. + +“To thy chamber window roving, love hath led my feet.” + +The Lord sent manna to the children of Israel in the wilderness. +Harkless had been five years in Plattville, and a woman's voice singing +Schubert's serenade came to him at last as he stood by the pasture bars +of Jones's field and listened and rested his dazzled eyes on the big, +white face of the moon. + +How long had it been since he had heard a song, or any discourse of +music other than that furnished by the Plattville Band--not that he had +not taste for a brass band! But music that he loved always gave him an +ache of delight and the twinge of reminiscences of old, gay days gone +forever. To-night his memory leaped to the last day of a June gone seven +years; to a morning when the little estuary waves twinkled in the bright +sun about the boat in which he sat, the trim launch that brought a +cheery party ashore from their schooner to the Casino landing at Winter +Harbor, far up on the Maine coast. + +It was the happiest of those last irresponsible days before he struck +into his work in the world and became a failure. To-night he saw the +picture as plainly as if it were yesterday; no reminiscence had risen so +keenly before his eyes for years: pretty Mrs. Van Skuyt sitting beside +him--pretty Mrs. Van Skuyt and her roses! What had become of her? He +saw the crowd of friends waiting on the pier for their arrival, and +the dozen or so emblazoned classmates (it was in the time of brilliant +flannels) who suddenly sent up a volley of college cheers in his +honor--how plainly the dear, old, young faces rose up before him +to-night, the men from whose lives he had slipped! Dearest and jolliest +of the faces was that of Tom Meredith, clubmate, classmate, his closest +friend, the thin, red-headed third baseman; he could see Tom's mouth +opened at least a yard, it seemed, such was his frantic vociferousness. +Again and again the cheers rang out, “Harkless! Harkless!” on the end of +them. In those days everybody (particularly his classmates) thought he +would be minister to England in a few years, and the orchestra on the +Casino porch was playing “The Conquering Hero,” in his honor, and at the +behest of Tom Meredith, he knew. + +There were other pretty ladies besides Mrs. Van Skuyt in the launch-load +from the yacht, but, as they touched the pier, pretty girls, or pretty +women, or jovial gentlemen, all were overlooked in the wild scramble the +college men made for their hero. They haled him forth, set him on high, +bore him on their shoulders, shouting “Skal to the Viking!” and carried +him up the wooded bluff to the Casino. He heard Mrs. Van Skuyt say, +“Oh, we're used to it; we've put in at several other places where he +had friends!” He struggled manfully to be set down, but his triumphal +procession swept on. He heard bystanders telling each other, “It's that +young Harkless, 'the Great Harkless,' they're all so mad about”; and +while it pleased him a little to hear such things, they always made him +laugh a great deal. He had never understood his popularity: he had +been chief editor of the university daily, and he had done a little in +athletics, and the rest of his distinction lay in college offices his +mates had heaped upon him without his being able to comprehend why they +did it. And yet, somehow, and in spite of himself, they had convinced +him that the world was his oyster; that it would open for him at a +touch. He could not help seeing how the Freshmen looked at him, how the +Sophomores jumped off the narrow campus walks to let him pass; he could +not help knowing that he was the great man of his time, so that “The +Great Harkless” came to be one of the traditions of the university. He +remembered the wild progress they made for him up the slope that morning +at Winter Harbor, how the people baked on, and laughed, and clapped +their hands. But at the veranda edge he had noticed a little form +disappearing around a corner of the building; a young girl running away +as fast as she could. + +“See there!” he said, as the tribe set him down, “You have frightened +the populace.” And Tom Meredith stopped shouting long enough to answer, +“It's my little cousin, overcome with emotion. She's been counting the +hours till you came--been hearing of you from me and others for a good +while; and hasn't been able to talk or think of anything else. She's +only fifteen, and the crucial moment is too much for her--the Great +Harkless has arrived, and she has fled.” + +He remembered other incidents of his greatness, of the glory that now +struck him as rarely comical; he hoped he hadn't taken it too seriously +then, in the flush of his youth. Maybe, after all, he had been a, +big-headed boy, but he must have bottled up his conceit tightly enough, +or the other boys would have detected it and abhorred him. He was +inclined to believe that he had not been very much set up by the pomp +they made for him. At all events, that day at Winter Harbor had been +beautiful, full of the laughter of friends and music; for there was a +musicale at the Casino in the afternoon. + +But the present hour grew on him as he leaned on the pasture bars, and +suddenly his memories sped; and the voice that was singing Schubert's +serenade across the way touched him with the urgent, personal appeal +that a present beauty always had for him. It was a soprano; and without +tremolo, yet came to his ear with a certain tremulous sweetness; it was +soft and slender, but the listener knew it could be lifted with fullness +and power if the singer would. It spoke only of the song, yet the +listener thought of the singer. Under the moon thoughts run into dreams, +and he dreamed that the owner of the voice, she who quoted “The Walrus +and the Carpenter” on Fisbee's notes, was one to laugh with you and weep +with you; yet her laughter would be tempered with sorrow, and her tears +with laughter. + +When the song was ended, he struck the rail he leaned upon a sharp blow +with his open hand. There swept over him a feeling that he had stood +precisely where he stood now, on such a night, a thousand years ago, had +heard that voice and that song, had listened and been moved by the song, +and the night, just as he was moved now. + +He had long known himself for a sentimentalist; he had almost given up +trying to cure himself. And he knew himself for a born lover; he had +always been in love with some one. In his earlier youth his affections +had been so constantly inconstant that he finally came to settle +with his self-respect by recognizing in himself a fine constancy that +worshipped one woman always--it was only the shifting image of her that +changed! Somewhere (he dreamed, whimsically indulgent of the fancy; yet +mocking himself for it) there was a girl whom he had never seen, who +waited till he should come. She was Everything. Until he found her, +he could not help adoring others who possessed little pieces and +suggestions of her--her brilliancy, her courage, her short upper lip, +“like a curled roseleaf,” or her dear voice, or her pure profile. He had +no recollection of any lady who had quite her eyes. + +He had never passed a lovely stranger on the street, in the old days, +without a thrill of delight and warmth. If he never saw her again, and +the vision only lasted the time it takes a lady to cross the sidewalk +from a shop door to a carriage, he was always a little in love with her, +because she bore about her, somewhere, as did every pretty girl he ever +saw, a suggestion of the far-away divinity. One does not pass lovely +strangers in the streets of Plattville. Miss Briscoe was pretty, but not +at all in the way that Harkless dreamed. For five years the lover in +him that had loved so often had been starved of all but dreams. Only at +twilight and dusk in the summer, when, strolling, he caught sight of a +woman's skirt, far up the village street--half-outlined in the +darkness under the cathedral arch of meeting branches--this romancer +of petticoats could sigh a true lover's sigh, and, if he kept enough +distance between, fly a yearning fancy that his lady wandered there. + +Ever since his university days the image of her had been growing +more and more distinct. He had completely settled his mind as to her +appearance and her voice. She was tall, almost too tall, he was sure of +that; and out of his consciousness there had grown a sweet and vivacious +young face that he knew was hers. Her hair was light-brown with gold +lustres (he reveled in the gold lustres, on the proper theory that when +your fancy is painting a picture you may as well go in for the whole +thing and make it sumptuous), and her eyes were gray. They were very +earnest, and yet they sparkled and laughed to him companionably; and +sometimes he had smiled back upon her. The Undine danced before him +through the lonely years, on fair nights in his walks, and came to sit +by his fire on winter evenings when he stared alone at the embers. + +And to-night, here in Plattville, he heard a voice he had waited for +long, one that his fickle memory told him he had never heard before. +But, listening, he knew better--he had heard it long ago, though when +and how, he did not know, as rich and true, and ineffably tender as now. +He threw a sop to his common sense. “Miss Sherwood is a little thing” + (the image was so surely tall) “with a bumpy forehead and spectacles,” + he said to himself, “or else a provincial young lady with big eyes +to pose at you.” Then he felt the ridiculousness of looking after his +common sense on a moonlight night in June; also, he knew that he lied. + +The song had ceased, but the musician lingered, and the keys were +touched to plaintive harmonies new to him. He had come to Plattville +before “Cavalleria Rusticana” was sung at Rome, and now, entranced, he +heard the “Intermezzo” for the first time. Listening to this, he feared +to move lest he should wake from a summer-night's dream. + +A ragged little shadow flitted down the path behind him, and from a +solitary apple-tree, standing like a lonely ghost in the middle of +the field, came the _woo_ of a screech owl--twice. It was +answered--twice--from a clump of elder-bushes that grew in a +fence-corner fifty yards west of the pasture bars. Then the barrel of a +squirrel rifle issued, lifted out of the white elder-blossoms, and +lay along the fence. The music in the house across the way ceased, and +Harkless saw two white dresses come out through the long parlor windows +to the veranda. + +“It will be cooler out here,” came the voice of the singer clearly +through the quiet. “What a night!” + +John vaulted the bars and started to cross the road. They saw him from +the veranda, and Miss Briscoe called to him in welcome. As his tall +figure stood out plainly in the bright light against the white dust, +a streak of fire leaped from the elder-blossoms and there rang out the +sharp report of a rifle. There were two screams from the veranda. One +white figure ran into the house. The other, a little one with a gauzy +wrap streaming behind, came flying out into the moonlight--straight to +Harkless. There was a second report; the rifle-shot was answered by +a revolver. William Todd had risen up, apparently from nowhere, and, +kneeling by the pasture bars, fired at the flash of the rifle. + +“Jump fer the shadder, Mr. Harkless,” he shouted; “he's in them elders,” + and then: “Fer God's sake, comeback!” + +Empty-handed as he was, the editor dashed for the treacherous elder-bush +as fast as his long legs could carry him; but, before he had taken six +strides, a hand clutched his sleeve, and a girl's voice quavered from +close behind him: + +“Don't run like that, Mr. Harkless; I can't keep up!” He wheeled about, +and confronted a vision, a dainty little figure about five feet high, a +flushed and lovely face, hair and draperies disarranged and flying. He +stamped his foot with rage. “Get back in the house!” he cried. + +“You mustn't go,” she panted. “It's the only way to stop you.” + +“Go back to the house!” he shouted, savagely. + +“Will you come?” + +“Fer God's sake,” cried William Todd, “come back! Keep out of the road.” + He was emptying his revolver at the clump of elder, the uproar of his +firing blasting the night. Some one screamed from the house: + +“Helen! Helen!” + +John seized the girl's wrists roughly; her gray eyes flashed into his +defiantly. “Will you go?” he roared. + +“No!” + +He dropped her wrists, caught her up in his arms as if she had been a +kitten, and leaped into the shadow of the trees that leaned over the +road from the yard. The rifle rang out again, and the little ball +whistled venomously overhead. Harkless ran along the fence and turned in +at the gate. + +A loose strand of the girl's hair blew across his cheek, and in the moon +her head shone with gold. She had light-brown hair and gray eyes and a +short upper lip like a curled rose-leaf. He set her down on the veranda +steps. Both of them laughed wildly. + +“But you came with me!” she gasped triumphantly. + +“I always thought you were tall,” he answered; and there was afterward a +time when he had to agree that this was a somewhat vague reply. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. JUNE + +Judge Briscoe smiled grimly and leaned on his shot-gun in the moonlight +by the veranda. He and William Todd had been trampling down the +elder-bushes, and returning to the house, found Minnie alone on the +porch. “Safe?” he said to his daughter, who turned an anxious face upon +him. “They'll be safe enough now, and in our garden.” + +“Maybe I oughtn't to have let them go,” she returned, nervously. + +“Pooh! They're all right; that scalawag's half-way to Six-Cross-Roads by +this time, isn't he, William?” + +“He tuck up the fence like a scared rabbit,” Mr. Todd responded, looking +into his hat to avoid meeting the eyes of the lady. “I didn't have no +call to toller, and he knowed how to run, I reckon. Time Mr. Harkless +come out the yard again, he was near out o' sight, and we see him take +across the road to the wedge-woods, near half-a-mile up. Somebody else +with him then--looked like a kid. Must 'a' cut acrost the field to join +him. They're fur enough towards home by this.” + +“Did Miss Helen shake hands with you four or five times?” asked Briscoe, +chuckling. + +“No. Why?” + +“Because Harkless did. My hand aches, and I guess William's does, too; +he nearly shook our arms off when we told him he'd been a fool. Seemed +to do him good. I told him he ought to hire somebody to take a shot at +him every morning before breakfast--not that it's any joking matter,” + the old gentleman finished, thoughtfully. + +“I should say not,” said William, with a deep frown and a jerk of his +head toward the rear of the house. “_He_ jokes about it enough. Wouldn't +even promise to carry a gun after this. Said he wouldn't know how to use +it. Never shot one off since he was a boy, on the Fourth of July. This +is the third time he's be'n shot at this year, but he says the others +was at a--a--what'd he call it?” + +“'A merely complimentary range,'” Briscoe supplied. He handed William a +cigar and bit the end off another himself. “Minnie, you better go in the +house and read, I expect--unless you want to go down the creek and join +those folks.” + +“_Me_!” she responded. “I know when to stay away, I guess. Do go and put +that terrible gun up.” + +“No,” said Briscoe, lighting his cigar, deliberately. “It's all safe; +there's no question of that; but maybe William and I better go out and +take a smoke in the orchard as long as they stay down at the creek.” + +In the garden, shafts of white light pierced the bordering trees and +fell where June roses lifted their heads to breathe the mild night +breeze, and here, through summer spells, the editor of the “Herald” and +the lady who had run to him at the pasture bars strolled down a path +trembling with shadows to where the shallow creek tinkled over the +pebbles. They walked slowly, with an air of being well-accustomed +friends and comrades, and for some reason it did not strike either of +them as unnatural or extraordinary. They came to a bench on the bank, +and he made a great fuss dusting the seat for her with his black slouch +hat. Then he regretted the hat--it was a shabby old hat of a Carlow +County fashion. + +It was a long bench, and he seated himself rather remotely toward the +end opposite her, suddenly realizing that he had walked very close to +her, coming down the narrow garden path. Neither knew that neither had +spoken since they left the veranda; and it had taken them a long time to +come through the little orchard and the garden. She rested her chin +on her hand, leaning forward and looking steadily at the creek. Her +laughter had quite gone; her attitude seemed a little wistful and a +little sad. He noted that her hair curled over her brow in a way he had +not pictured in the lady of his dreams; this was so much lovelier. He +did not care for tall girls; he had not cared for them for almost +half an hour. It was so much more beautiful to be dainty and small and +piquant. He had no notion that he was sighing in a way that would have +put a furnace to shame, but he turned his eyes from her because he +feared that if he looked longer he might blurt out some speech about +her beauty. His glance rested on the bank; but its diameter included +the edge of her white skirt and the tip of a little, white, high-heeled +slipper that peeped out beneath it; and he had to look away from that, +too, to keep from telling her that he meant to advocate a law compelling +all women to wear crisp, white gowns and white slippers on moonlight +nights. + +She picked a long spear of grass from the turf before her, twisted it +absently in her fingers, then turned to him slowly. Her lips parted +as if to speak. Then she turned away again. The action was so odd, and +somehow, as she did it, so adorable, and the preserved silence was such +a bond between them, that for his life he could not have helped moving +half-way up the bench toward her. + +“What is it?” he asked; and he spoke in a whisper he might have used at +the bedside of a dying friend. He would not have laughed if he had known +he did so. She twisted the spear of grass into a little ball and threw +it at a stone in the water before she answered. + +“Do you know, Mr. Harkless, you and I haven't 'met,' have we? Didn't we +forget to be presented to each other?” + +“I beg your pardon. Miss Sherwood. In the perturbation of comedy I +forgot.” + +“It was melodrama, wasn't it?” she said. He laughed, but she shook her +head. + +“Comedy,” he answered, “except your part of it, which you shouldn't have +done. It was not arranged in honor of 'visiting ladies.' But you +mustn't think me a comedian. Truly, I didn't plan it. My friend from +Six-Cross-Roads must be given the credit of devising the scene-though +you divined it!” + +“It was a little too picturesque, I think. I know about Six-Cross-Roads. +Please tell me what you mean to do.” + +“Nothing. What should I?” + +“You mean that you will keep on letting them shoot at you, until +they--until you--” She struck the bench angrily with her hand. + +“There's no summer theatre in Six-Cross-Roads; there's not even a +church. Why shouldn't they?” he asked gravely. “During the long and +tedious evenings it cheers the poor Cross-Reader's soul to drop over +here and take a shot at me. It whiles away dull care for him, and he has +the additional exercise of running all the way home.” + +“Ah!” she cried indignantly, “they told me you always answered like +this!” + +“Well, you see the Cross-Roads efforts have proved so purely hygienic +for me. As a patriot I have sometimes felt extreme mortification that +such bad marksmanship should exist in the county, but I console +myself with the thought that their best shots are unhappily in the +penitentiary.” + +“There are many left. Can't you understand that they will organize again +and come in a body, as they did before you broke them up? And then, if +they come on a night when they know you are wandering out of town----” + +“You have not the advantage of an intimate study of the most exclusive +people of the Cross-Roads, Miss Sherwood. There are about twenty +gentlemen who remain in that neighborhood while their relatives sojourn +under discipline. If you had the entree over there, you would understand +that these twenty could not gather themselves into a company and march +the seven miles without physical debate in the ranks. They are not +precisely amiable people, even amongst themselves. They would quarrel +and shoot each other to pieces long before they got here.” + +“But they worked in a company once.” + +“Never for seven miles. Four miles was their radius. Five would see them +all dead.” + +She struck the bench again. “Oh, you laugh at me! You make a joke of +your own life and death, and laugh at everything! Have five years of +Plattville taught you to do that?” + +“I laugh only at taking the poor Cross-Roaders too seriously. I don't +laugh at your running into fire to help a fellow-mortal.” + +“I knew there wasn't any risk. I knew he had to stop to load before he +shot again.” + +“He did shoot again. If I had known you before to-night--I--” His tone +changed and he spoke gravely. “I am at your feet in worship of your +philanthropy. It's so much finer to risk your life for a stranger than +for a friend.” + +“That is rather a man's point of view, isn't it?” + +“You risked yours for a man you had never seen before.” + +“Oh, no! I saw you at the lecture; I heard you introduce the Honorable +Mr. Halloway.” + +“Then I don't understand your wishing to save me.” + +She smiled unwillingly, and turned her gray eyes upon him with troubled +sunniness, and, under the kindness of her regard, he set a watch upon +his lips, though he knew it might not avail him. He had driveled along +respectably so far, he thought, but he had the sentimental longings of +years, starved of expression, culminating in his heart. She continued to +look at him, wistfully, searchingly, gently. Then her eyes traveled over +his big frame from his shoes (a patch of moonlight fell on them; they +were dusty; he drew them under the bench with a shudder) to his broad +shoulders (he shook the stoop out of them). She stretched her small +hands toward him in contrast, and broke into the most delicious low +laughter in the world. At this sound he knew the watch on his lips was +worthless. It was a question of minutes till he should present himself +to her eyes as a sentimental and susceptible imbecile. He knew it. He +was in wild spirits. + +“Could you realize that one of your dangers might be a shaking?” she +cried. “Is your seriousness a lost art?” Her laughter ceased suddenly. +“Ah, no. I understand. Thiers said the French laugh always, in order not +to weep. I haven't lived here five years. I should laugh too, if I were +you.” + +“Look at the moon,” he responded. “We Plattvillains own that with the +best of metropolitans, and, for my part, I see more of it here. You do +not appreciate us. We have large landscapes in the heart of the city, +and what other capital possesses advantages like that? Next winter the +railway station is to have a new stove for the waiting-room. Heaven +itself is one of our suburbs--it is so close that all one has to do is +to die. You insist upon my being French, you see, and I know you +are fond of nonsense. How did you happen to put 'The Walrus and the +Carpenter' at the bottom of a page of Fisbee's notes?” + +“Was it? How were you sure it was I?” + +“In Carlow County!” + +“He might have written it himself.” + +“Fisbee has never in his life read anything lighter than cuneiform +inscriptions.” + +“Miss Briscoe----” + +“She doesn't read Lewis Carroll; and it was not her hand. What made you +write it on Fisbee's manuscript?” + +“He was with us this afternoon, and I teased him a little about your +heading. 'Business and the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb,' isn't it? +And he said it had always troubled him, but that you thought it good. +So do I. He asked me if I could think of anything that you might like +better, to put in place of it, and I wrote, 'The time has come,' because +it was the only thing I could think of that was as appropriate and as +fetching as your headlines. He was perfectly dear about it. He was so +serious; he said he feared it wouldn't be acceptable. I didn't notice +that the paper he handed me to write on was part of his notes, nor +did he, I think. Afterward, he put it back in his pocket. It wasn't a +message.” + +“I'm not so sure he did not notice. He is very wise. Do you know, +somehow, I have the impression that the old fellow wanted me to meet +you.” + +“How dear and good of him!” She spoke earnestly, and her face was +suffused with a warm light. There was no doubt about her meaning what +she said. + +“It was,” John answered, unsteadily. “He knew how great was my need of a +few moments' companionableness with--with----” + +“No,” she interrupted. “I meant dear and good to me, because I think he +was thinking of me, and it was for my sake he wanted us to meet.” + +It would have been hard to convince a woman, if she had overheard this +speech, that Miss Sherwood's humility was not the calculated affectation +of a coquette. Sometimes a man's unsuspicion is wiser, and Harkless knew +that she was not flirting with him. In addition, he was not a fatuous +man; he did not extend the implication of her words nearly so far as she +would have had him. + +“But I had met you,” said he, “long ago.” + +“What!” she cried, and her eyes danced. “You actually remember?” + +“Yes; do you?” he answered. “I stood in Jones's field and heard you +singing, and I remembered. It was a long time since I had heard you +sing: + + “'I was a ruffler of Flanders, + And fought for a florin's hire. + You were the dame of my captain + And sang to my heart's desire.' + +“But that is the balladist's notion. The truth is that you were a lady +at the Court of Clovis, and I was a heathen captive. I heard you sing a +Christian hymn--and asked for baptism.” By a great effort he managed to +look as if he did not mean it. + +But she did not seem over-pleased with his fancy, for, the surprise +fading from her face, “Oh, that was the way you remembered!” she said. + +“Perhaps it was not that way alone. You won't despise me for being +mawkish to-night?” he asked. “I haven't had the chance for so long.” + +The night air wrapped them warmly, and the balm of the little breezes +that stirred the foliage around them was the smell of damask roses from +the garden. The creek tinkled over the pebbles at their feet, and a +drowsy bird, half-wakened by the moon, crooned languorously in the +sycamores. The girl looked out at the flashing water through downcast +lashes. “Is it because it is so transient that beauty is pathetic?” she +said; “because we can never come back to it in quite the same way? I am +a sentimental girl. If you are born so, it is never entirely teased +out of you, is it? Besides, to-night is all a dream. It isn't real, you +know. You couldn't be mawkish.” + +Her tone was gentle as a caress, and it made him tingle to his +finger-tips. “How do you know?” he asked in a low voice. + +“I just know. Do you think I'm very 'bold and forward'?” she said, +dreamily. + +“It was your song I wanted to be sentimental about. I am like one 'who +through long days of toil'--only that doesn't quite apply--'and nights +devoid of ease'--but I can't claim that one doesn't sleep well here; it +is Plattville's specialty--like one who + + “'Still heard in his soul the music + Of wonderful melodies.'” + +“Those blessed old lines!” she said. “Once a thing is music or poetry, +all the hand-organs and elocutionists in the world cannot ruin it, can +they? Yes; to live here, out of the world, giving up the world, doing +good and working for others, working for a community as you do----” + +“I am not quite shameless,” he interrupted, smilingly. “I was given a +life sentence for incompetency, and I've served five years of it, which +have been made much happier than my deserts.” + +“No,” she persisted, “that is your way of talking of yourself; I know +you would always 'run yourself down,' if one paid any attention to it. +But to give up the world, to drop out of it without regret, to come +here and do what you have done, and to live the life that must be so +desperately dry and dull for a man of your sort, and yet to have the +kind of heart that makes wonderful melodies sing in itself--oh!” she +cried, “I say that is fine!” + +“You do not understand,” he returned, sadly, wishing, before her, to +be unmercifully just to himself. “I came here because I couldn't make +a living anywhere else. And the 'wonderful melodies'--I have known you +only one evening--and the melodies--” He rose to his feet and took a few +steps toward the garden. “Come,” he said. “Let me take you back. Let us +go before I--” he finished with a helpless laugh. + +She stood by the bench, one hand resting on it; she stood all in the +tremulant shadow. She moved one step toward him, and a single, long +sliver of light pierced the sycamores and fell upon her head. He gasped. + +“What was it about the melodies?” she said. + +“Nothing! I don't know how to thank you for this evening that you have +given me. I--I suppose you are leaving to-morrow. No one ever stays +here.--I----” + +“What about the melodies?” + +He gave it up. “The moon makes people insane!” he cried. + +“If that is true,” she returned, “then you need not be more afraid than +I, because 'people' is plural. What were you saying about----” + +“I _had_ heard them--in my heart. When I heard your voice to-night, I +knew that it was you who sang them there--had been singing them for me +always.” + +“So!” she cried, gaily. “All that debate about a pretty speech!” Then, +sinking before him in a deep courtesy, “I am beholden to you,” she said. +“Do you think that no man ever made a little flattery for me before +to-night?” + +At the edge of the orchard, where they could keep an unseen watch on +the garden and the bank of the creek. Judge Briscoe and Mr. Todd were +ensconced under an apple-tree, the former still armed with his shot-gun. +When the two young people got up from their bench, the two men rose +hastily, and then sauntered slowly toward them. When they met, Harkless +shook each of them cordially by the hand, without seeming to know it. + +“We were coming to look for you,” explained the judge. “William was +afraid to go home alone; thought some one might take him for Mr. +Harkless and shoot him before he got into town. Can you come out with +young Willetts in the morning, Harkless,” he went on, “and go with the +ladies to see the parade? And Minnie wants you to stay to dinner and go +to the show with them in the afternoon.” + +Harkless seized his hand and shook it fervently, and then laughed +heartily, as he accepted the invitation. + +At the gate, Miss Sherwood extended her hand to him and said politely, +and with some flavor of mockery: “Good-night, Mr. Harkless. I do not +leave to-morrow. I am very glad to have met you.” + +“We are going to keep her all summer if we can,” said Minnie, weaving +her arm about her friend's waist. “You'll come in the morning?” + +“Good-night, Miss Sherwood,” he returned, hilariously. “It has been such +a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for saving my life. It was +very good of you indeed. Yes, in the morning. Good-night--good-night.” + He shook hands with them all again, including Mr. Todd, who was going +with him. + +He laughed most of the way home, and Mr. Todd walked at his side in +amazement. The Herald Building was a decrepit frame structure on Main +Street; it had once been a small warehouse and was now sadly in need of +paint. Closely adjoining it, in a large, blank-looking yard, stood a low +brick cottage, over which the second story of the warehouse leaned in an +effect of tipsy affection that had reminded Harkless, when he first saw +it, of an old Sunday-school book wood-cut of an inebriated parent under +convoy of a devoted child. The title to these two buildings and the +blank yard had been included in the purchase of the “Herald”; and the +cottage was Harkless's home. + +There was a light burning upstairs in the “Herald” office. From the +street a broad, tumble-down stairway ran up on the outside of the +building to the second floor, and at the stairway railing John turned +and shook his companion warmly by the hand. + +“Good-night, William,” he said. “It was plucky of you to join in that +muss, to-night. I shan't forget it.” + +“I jest happened to come along,” replied the other, drowsily; then, with +a portentous yawn, he asked: “Ain't ye goin' to bed?” + +“No; Parker wouldn't allow it.” + +“Well,” observed William, with another yawn, which bade fair to expose +the veritable soul of him, “I d'know how ye stand it. It's closte on +eleven o'clock. Good-night.” + +John went up the steps, singing aloud: + + “For to-night we'll merry, merry be, + For to-night we'll merry, merry be,” + +and stopped on the sagging platform at the top of the stairs and gave +the moon good-night with a wave of the hand and friendly laughter. At +that it suddenly struck him that he was twenty-nine years of age; +that he had laughed a great deal that evening; that he had laughed and +laughed over things not in the least humorous, like an excited schoolboy +making his first formal call; that he had shaken hands with Miss Briscoe +when he left her, as if he should never see her again; that he had taken +Miss Sherwood's hand twice in one very temporary parting; that he had +shaken the judge's hand five times, and William's four! + +“Idiot!” he cried. “What has happened to me?” Then he shook his fist at +the moon and went in to work--he thought. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. MORNING: “SOME IN RAGS AND SOME IN TAGS AND SOME IN VELVET +GOWNS” + +The bright sun of circus-day shone into Harkless's window, and he awoke +to find himself smiling. For a little while he lay content, drowsily +wondering why he smiled, only knowing that there was something new. +It was thus, as a boy, he had wakened on his birthday mornings, or on +Christmas, or on the Fourth of July, drifting happily out of pleasant +dreams into the consciousness of long-awaited delights that had come +true, yet lying only half-awake in a cheerful borderland, leaving +happiness undefined. + +The morning breeze was fluttering at his window blind; a honeysuckle +vine tapped lightly on the pane. Birds were trilling, warbling, +whistling. From the street came the rumbling of wagons, merry cries of +greeting, and the barking of dogs. What was it made him feel so young +and strong and light-hearted? The breeze brought him the smell of +June roses, fresh and sweet with dew, and then he knew why he had come +smiling from his dreams. He would go a holiday-making. With that he +leaped out of bed, and shouted loudly: “Zen! Hello, Xenophon!” + +In answer, an ancient, very black darky put his head in at the door, his +warped and wrinkled visage showing under his grizzled hair like charred +paper in a fall of pine ashes. He said: “Good-mawn', suh. Yessuh. Hit's +done pump' full. Good-mawn', suh.” + +A few moments later, the colored man, seated on the front steps of the +cottage, heard a mighty splashing within, while the rafters rang with +stentorian song: + + “He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + To tie up my bonny brown hair + + “Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Johnnie's so long at the Fair!” + +At the sound of this complaint, delivered in a manly voice, the +listener's jaw dropped, and his mouth opened and stayed open. “_Him!_” + he muttered, faintly. “_Singin'_!” + + “Well, the old Triangle knew the music of our tread; + How the peaceful Seminole would tremble in his bed!” + +sang the editor. “I dunno huccome it,” exclaimed the old man, “an' dat +ain' hyer ner dar; but, bless Gawd! de young man' happy!” A thought +struck him suddenly, and he scratched his head. “Maybe he goin' away,” + he said, querulously. “What become o' ole Zen?” The splashing ceased, +but not the voice, which struck into a noble marching chorus. “Oh, my +Lawd,” said the colored man, “I pray you listen at dat!” + + “Soldiers marching up the street, + They keep the time; + They look sublime! + Hear them play Die Wacht am Rhein! + They call them Schneider's Band. + Tra la la la, la!” + +The length of Main Street and all the Square resounded with the rattle +of vehicles of every kind. Since earliest dawn they had been pouring +into the village, a long procession on every country road. There were +great red and blue farm wagons, drawn by splendid Clydesdales; the +elders of the family on the front seat and on boards laid from side to +side in front, or on chairs placed close behind, while, in the deep beds +back of these, children tumbled in the straw, or peeped over the sides, +rosy-cheeked and laughing, eyes alight with blissful anticipations. +There were more pretentious two-seated cut-unders and stout buckboards, +loaded down with merrymakers, four on a seat meant for two; there were +rattle-trap phaetons and comfortable carry-alls drawn by steady spans; +and, now and then, mule teams bringing happy negroes, ready to squander +all on the first Georgia watermelons and cider. Every vehicle contained +heaping baskets of good things to eat (the previous night had been a +woeful Bartholomew for Carlow chickens) and underneath, where the dogs +paced faithfully, swung buckets and fodder for the horses, while colts +innumerable trotted dose to the maternal flanks, viewing the world with +their big, new eyes in frisky surprise. + +Here and there the trim side-bar buggy of some prosperous farmer's +son, escorting his sweetheart, flashed along the road, the young mare +stepping out in pride of blood to pass the line of wagons, the youth who +held the reins, resplendent in Sunday best and even better, his scorched +brown face glowing with a fine belief in the superiority of both his +steed and his lady; the latter beaming out upon life and rejoicing in +the light-blue ribbons on her hat, the light-blue ribbon around her +waist, the light-blue, silk half-mittens on her hands, and the beautiful +red coral necklace about her neck and the red coral buttons that +fastened her gown in the back. + +The air was full of exhilaration; everybody was laughing and shouting +and calling greetings; for Carlow County was turning out, and from far +and near the country people came; nay, from over the county line, clouds +of dust rising from every thoroughfare and highway, and sweeping into +town to herald their coming. + +Dibb Zane, the “sprinkling contractor,” had been at work with the town +water-cart since the morning stars were bright, but he might as well +have watered the streets with his tears, which, indeed, when the farmers +began to come in, bringing their cyclones of dust, he drew nigh unto, +after a spell of profanity as futile as his cart. + + “Tief wie das Meer soll deine Liebe sein,” + +hummed the editor in the cottage. His song had taken on a reflective +tone as that of one who cons a problem, or musically ponders which card +to play. He was kneeling before an old trunk in his bedchamber. From +one compartment he took a neatly folded pair of duck trousers and a +light-gray tweed coat; from another, a straw hat with a ribbon of bright +colors. They had lain in the trunk a long time undisturbed; and he +examined them musingly. He shook the coat and brushed it; then he laid +the garments upon his bed, and proceeded to shave himself carefully, +after which he donned the white trousers, the gray coat, and, rummaging +in the trunk again, found a gay pink cravat, which he fastened about his +tall collar (also a resurrection from the trunk) with a pearl pin. +After that he had a long, solemn time arranging his hair with a pair +of brushes. When at last he was suited, and his dressing completed, he +sallied forth to breakfast. + +Xenophon stared after him as he went out of the gate whistling heartily. +The old darky lifted his hands, palms outward. + +“Lan' name, who dat!” he exclaimed aloud. “Who dat in dem pan-jingeries? +He jine' de circus?” His hands fell upon his knees, and he got to his +feet pneumatically, shaking his head with foreboding. “Honey, honey, +hit' baid luck, baid luck sing 'fo' breakfus. Trouble 'fo' de day be +done. Trouble, honey, gre't trouble. Baid luck, baid luck!” + +Along the Square the passing of the editor in his cool equipment evoked +some gasps of astonishment; and Mr. Tibbs and his sister rushed from the +postoffice to stare after him. + +“He looks just beautiful, Solomon,” said Miss Tibbs. + +“But what's the name for them kind of clothes?” inquired her brother. +“'Seems to me there's a special way of callin' 'em. 'Seems as if I see +a picture of 'em, somewheres. Wasn't it on the cover of that there +long-tennis box we bought and put in the window, and the country people +thought it was a seining outfit?” + +“It was a game, the catalogue said,” observed Miss Selina. “Wasn't it?” + +“It was a mighty pore investment,” the postmaster answered. + +As Harkless approached the hotel, a decrepit old man, in a vast straw +hat and a linen duster much too large for him, came haltingly forward +to meet him. He was Widow-Woman Wimby's husband. And, as did every one +else, he spoke of his wife by the name of her former martial companion. + +“Be'n a-lookin' fer you, Mr. Harkless,” he said in a shaking spindle of +a voice, as plaintive as his pale little eyes. “Mother Wimby, she sent +some roses to ye. Cynthy's fixin' 'em on yer table. I'm well as ever +I am; but her, she's too complaining to come in fer show-day. This +morning, early, we see some the Cross-Roads folks pass the place towards +town, an' she sent me in to tell ye. Oh, I knowed ye'd laugh. Says she, +'He's too much of a man to be skeered,' says she, 'these here tall, big +men always 'low nothin' on earth kin hurt 'em,' says she, 'but you tell +him to be keerful,' says she; an' I see Bill Skillett an' his brother on +the Square lessun a half-an-hour ago, 'th my own eyes. I won't keep ye +from yer breakfast.--Eph Watts is in there, eatin'. He's come back; but +I guess I don't need to warn ye agin' him. He seems peaceable enough. +It's the other folks you got to look out fer.” + +He limped away. The editor waved his hand to him from the door, but the +old fellow shook his head, and made a warning, friendly gesture with his +arm. + +Harkless usually ate his breakfast alone, as he was the latest riser +in Plattville. (There were days in the winter when he did not reach +the hotel until eight o'clock.) This morning he found a bunch of white +roses, still wet with dew and so fragrant that the whole room was fresh +and sweet with their odor, prettily arranged in a bowl on the table, +and, at his plate, the largest of all with a pin through the stem. He +looked up, smilingly, and nodded at the red-haired girl. “Thank you, +Charmion,” he said. “That's very pretty.” + +She turned even redder than she always was, and answered nothing, +vigorously darting her brush at an imaginary fly on the cloth. After +several minutes she said abruptly, “You're welcome.” + +There was a silence, finally broken by a long, gasping sigh. Astonished, +he looked at the girl. Her eyes were set unfathomably upon his pink tie; +the wand had dropped from her nerveless hand, and she stood rapt and +immovable. She started violently from her trance. “Ain't you goin' +to finish your coffee?” she asked, plying her instrument again, and, +bending over him slightly, whispered: “Say, Eph Watts is over there +behind you.” + +At a table in a far corner of the room a large gentleman in a brown +frock coat was quietly eating his breakfast and reading the “Herald.” He +was of an ornate presence, though entirely neat. A sumptuous expanse of +linen exhibited itself between the lapels of his low-cut waistcoat, and +an inch of bediamonded breastpin glittered there, like an ice-ledge on +a snowy mountain side. He had a steady, blue eye and a dissipated, +iron-gray mustache. This personage was Mr. Ephraim Watts, who, following +a calling more fashionable in the eighteenth century than in the latter +decades of the nineteenth, had shaken the dust of Carlow from his feet +some three years previously, at the strong request of the authorities. +The “Herald” had been particularly insistent upon his deportation, and, +in the local phrase, Harkless had “run him out of town.” Perhaps it was +because the “Herald's” opposition (as the editor explained at the +time) had been merely moral and impersonal, and the editor had always +confessed to a liking for the unprofessional qualities of Mr. Watts, +that there was but slight embarrassment when the two gentlemen met +to-day. His breakfast finished, Harkless went over to the other and +extended his hand. Cynthia held her breath and clutched the back of +a chair. However, Mr. Watts made no motion toward his well-known hip +pocket. Instead, he rose, flushed slightly, and accepted the hand +offered him. + +“I'm glad to see you, Mr. Watts,” said the journalist, cordially. “Also, +if you are running with the circus and calculate on doing business here +to-day, I'll have to see that you are fired out of town before noon. How +are you? You're looking extremely well.” + +“Mr. Harkless,” answered Watts, “I cherish no hard feelings, and I never +said but what you done exactly right when I left, three years ago. No, +sir; I'm not here in a professional way at all, and I don't want to be +molested. I've connected myself with an oil company, and I'm down here +to look over the ground. It beats poker and fan-tan hollow, though there +ain't as many chances in favor of the dealer, and in oil it's the farmer +that gets the rake-off. I've come back, but in an enterprising spirit +this time, to open up a new field and shed light and money in Carlow. +They told me never to show my face here again, but if you say I stay, I +guess I stay. I always was sure there was oil in the county, and I want +to prove it for everybody's benefit. Is it all right?” + +“My dear fellow,” laughed the young man, shaking the gambler's hand +again, “it is all right. I have always been sorry I had to act against +you. Everything is all right! Stay and bore to Corea if you like. Did +ever you see such glorious weather?” + +“I'll let you in on some shares,” Watts called after him as he turned +away. He nodded in reply and was leaving the room when Cynthia detained +him by a flourish of the fly-brush. “Say,” she said,--she always called +him “Say”--“You've forgot your flower.” + +He came back, and thanked her. “Will you pin it on for me, Charmion?” + +“I don't know what call you got to speak to me out of my name,” she +responded, looking at the floor moodily. + +“Why?” he asked, surprised. + +“I don't see why you want to make fun of me.” + +“I beg your pardon, Cynthia,” he said gravely. “I didn't mean to do +that. I haven't been considerate. I didn't think you'd be displeased. +I'm very sorry. Won't you pin it on my coat?” + +Her face was lifted in grateful pleasure, and she began to pin the rose +to his lapel. Her hands were large and red and trembled. She dropped +the flower, and, saying huskily, “I don't know as I could do it right,” + seized violently upon a pile of dishes and hurried from the room. + +Harkless rescued the rose, pinned it on his coat himself, and, observing +internally, for the hundredth time, that the red-haired waitress was the +queerest creature in the village, set forth gaily upon his holiday. + +When he reached the brick house on the pike he discovered a gentleman +sunk in an easy and contemplative attitude in a big chair behind the +veranda railing. At the click of the gate the lounger rose and disclosed +the stalwart figure and brown, smiling, handsome face of Mr. Lige +Willetts, an habitual devotee of Minnie Briscoe, and the most eligible +bachelor of Carlow. “The ladies will be down right off,” he said, +greeting the editor's finery with a perceptible agitation and the editor +himself with a friendly shake of the hand. “Mildy says to wait out +here.” + +But immediately there was a faint rustling within the house: the swish +of draperies on the stairs, a delicious whispering when light feet +descend, tapping, to hearts that beat an answer, the telegraphic +message, “We come! We come! We are near! We are near!” Lige Willetts +stared at Harkless. He had never thought the latter good-looking until +he saw him step to the door to take Miss Sherwood's hand and say in a +strange, low, tense voice, “Good-morning,” as if he were announcing, at +the least: “Every one in the world except us two, died last night. It is +a solemn thing, but I am very happy.” + +They walked, Minnie and Mr. Willetts a little distance in front of the +others. Harkless could not have told, afterward, whether they rode, +or walked, or floated on an air-ship to the court-house. All he knew +distinctly was that a divinity in a pink shirt waist, and a hat that was +woven of gauzy cloud by mocking fairies to make him stoop hideously to +see under it, dwelt for the time on earth and was at his side, dazzling +him in the morning sunshine. Last night the moon had lent her a silvery +glamour; she had something of the ethereal whiteness of night-dews in +that watery light, a nymph to laugh from a sparkling fountain, at the +moon or, as he thought, remembering her courtesy for his pretty speech, +perhaps a little lady of King Louis's court, wandering down the years +from Fontainebleau and appearing to clumsy mortals sometimes, of a June +night when the moon was in their heads. + +But to-day she was of the clearest color, a pretty girl, whose gray eyes +twinkled to his in gay companionship. He marked how the sunshine was +spun into the fair shadows of her hair and seemed itself to catch a +lustre, rather than to impart it, and the light of the June day drifted +through the gauzy hat, touching her face with a delicate and tender +flush that came and went like the vibrating pink of early dawn. She +had the divinest straight nose, tip-tilted the faintest, most alluring +trifle, and a dimple cleft her chin, “the deadliest maelstrom in the +world!” He thrilled through and through. He had been only vaguely +conscious of the dimple in the night. It was not until he saw her by +daylight that he really knew it was there. + +The village hummed with life before them. They walked through shimmering +airs, sweeter to breathe than nectar is to drink. She caught a +butterfly, basking on a jimson weed, and, before she let it go, held it +out to him in her hand. It was a white butterfly. He asked which was the +butterfly. + +“Bravo!” she said, tossing the captive craft above their heads and +watching the small sails catch the breeze; “And so you can make little +flatteries in the morning, too. It is another courtesy you should be +having from me, if it weren't for the dustiness of it. Wait till we come +to the board walk.” + +She had some big, pink roses at her waist. “In the meantime,” he +answered, indicating these, “I know very well a lad that would be blithe +to accept a pretty token of any lady's high esteem.” + +“But you have one, already, a very beautiful one.” She gave him a genial +up-and-down glance from head to foot, half quizzical, but so quick he +almost missed it. And then he was glad he had found the straw hat with +the youthful ribbon, and all his other festal vestures. “And a very +becoming flower a white rose is,” she continued, “though I am a bold +girl to be blarneying with a young gentleman I met no longer ago than +last night.” + +“But why shouldn't you blarney with a gentleman, when you began by +saving his life?” + +“Or, rather, when the gentleman had the politeness to gallop about +the county with me tucked under his arm?” She stood still and laughed +softly, but consummately, and her eyes closed tight with the mirth of +it. She had taken one of the roses from her waist, and, as she stood, +holding it by the long stem, its petals lightly pressed her lips. + +“You may have it--in exchange,” she said. He bent down to her, and she +began to fasten the pink rose in place of the white one on his coat. She +did not ask him, directly or indirectly, who had put the white one there +for him, because she knew by the way it was pinned that he had done it +himself. “Who is it that ev'ry morning brings me these lovely flow'rs?” + she burlesqued, as he bent over her. + +“'Mr. Wimby,'” he returned. “I will point him out to you. You must see +him, and, also, Mr. Bodeffer, the oldest inhabitant--and crossest.” + +“Will you present them to me?” + +“No; they might talk to you and take some of my time with you away from +me.” Her eyes sparkled into his for the merest fraction of a second, +and she laughed half mockingly. Then she dropped his lapel and they +proceeded. She did not put the white rose in her belt, but carried it. + +The Square was heaving with a jostling, goodnatured, happy, and +constantly increasing crowd that overflowed on Main Street in both +directions; and the good nature of this crowd was augmented in the ratio +that its size increased. The streets were a confusion of many colors, +and eager faces filled every window opening on Main Street or the +Square. Since nine o'clock all those of the courthouse had been +occupied, and here most of the damsels congregated to enjoy the +spectacle of the parade, and their swains attended, gallantly posting +themselves at coignes of less vantage behind the ladies. Some of the +faces that peeped from the dark, old court-house windows were +pretty, and some of them were not pretty; but nearly all of them were +rosy-cheeked, and all were pleasant to see because of the good +cheer they showed. Some of the gallants affected the airy and easy, +entertaining the company with badinage and repartee; some were openly +bashful. Now and then one of the latter, after long deliberation, +constructed a laborious compliment for his inamorata, and, after +advancing and propounding half of it, again retired into himself, smit +with a blissful palsy. Nearly all of them conversed in tones that might +have indicated that they were separated from each other by an acre lot +or two. + +Here and there, along the sidewalk below, a father worked his way +through the throng, a licorice-bedaubed cherub on one arm, his coat +(borne with long enough) on the other; followed by a mother with the +other children hanging to her skirts and tagging exasperatingly +behind, holding red and blue toy balloons and delectable batons of +spiral-striped peppermint in tightly closed, sadly sticky fingers. + +A thousand cries rent the air; the strolling mountebanks and gypsying +booth-merchants; the peanut vendors; the boys with palm-leaf fans for +sale; the candy sellers; the popcorn peddlers; the Italian with the toy +balloons that float like a cluster of colored bubbles above the heads of +the crowd, and the balloons that wail like a baby; the red-lemonade +man, shouting in the shrill voice that reaches everywhere and +endures forever: “Lemo! Lemo! Ice-cole lemo! Five cents, a nickel, a +half-a-dime, the twentiethpotofadollah! Lemo! Ice-cole lemo!”--all the +vociferating harbingers of the circus crying their wares. Timid youth, +in shoes covered with dust through which the morning polish but dimly +shone, and unalterably hooked by the arm to blushing maidens, bought +recklessly of peanuts, of candy, of popcorn, of all known sweetmeats, +perchance; and forced their way to the lemonade stands; and there, all +shyly, silently sipped the crimson-stained ambrosia. Everywhere the +hawkers dinned, and everywhere was heard the plaintive squawk of the toy +balloon. + +But over all rose the nasal cadence of the Cheap John, reeking oratory +from his big wagon on the corner: “Walk up, walk up, walk up, ladies and +gents! Here we are! Here we are! Make hay while we gather the moss. Walk +up, one and all. Here I put this solid gold ring, sumptuous and golden, +eighteen carats, eighteen golden carats of the priceless mother of +metals, toiled fer on the wild Pacific slope, eighteen garnteed, I put +this golden ring, rich and golden, in the package with the hangkacheef, +the elegant and blue-ruled note-paper, self-writing pens, pencil and +penholder. Who takes the lot? Who takes it, ladies and gents?” + +His tongue curled about his words; he seemed to love them. “Fer a +quat-of-a-dollah! Don't turn away, young man--you feller in the green +necktie, there. We all see the young lady on your arm is a-langrishing +fer the golden ring and the package. Faint heart never won fair wummin'. +There you are, sir, and you'll never regret it. Go--and be happy! Now, +who's the next man to git solid with his girl fer a quat-of-a-dollah? +Life is a mysterus and unviolable shadder, my friends; who kin read its +orgeries? To-day we are here--but to-morrow we may be in jail. Only +a quat-of-a-dollah! We are Seventh-Day Adventists, ladies and gents, +a-givin' away our belongings in the awful face of Michael, fer a +quat-of-a-dollah. The same price fer each-an-devery individual, lady and +gent, man, wummin, wife and child, and happiness to one and all fer a +quat-of-a-dollah!” + +Down the middle of the street, kept open between the waiting crowd, ran +barefoot boys, many of whom had not slept at home, but had kept vigil in +the night mists for the coming of the show, and, having seen the muffled +pageant arrive, swathed, and with no pomp and panoply, had returned to +town, rioting through jewelled cobwebs in the morning fields, happy in +the pride of knowledge of what went on behind the scenes. To-night, or +to-morrow, the runaways would face a woodshed reckoning with outraged +ancestry; but now they caracoled in the dust with no thought of the grim +deeds to be done upon them. + +In the court-house yard, and so sinning in the very eye of the law, +two swarthy, shifty-looking gentlemen were operating (with some greasy +walnut shells and a pea) what the fanciful or unsophisticated might have +been pleased to call a game of chance; and the most intent spectator of +the group around them was Mr. James Bardlock, the Town Marshal. He +was simply and unofficially and earnestly interested. Thus the eye of +Justice may not be said to have winked upon the nefariousness now under +its vision; it gazed with strong curiosity, an itch to dabble, and (it +must be admitted) a growing hope of profit. The game was so direct and +the player so sure. Several countrymen had won small sums, and one, a +charmingly rustic stranger, with a peculiar accent (he said that him and +his goil should now have a smoot' old time off his winninks--though the +lady was not manifested), had won twenty-five dollars with no trouble at +all. The two operators seemed depressed, declaring the luck against them +and the Plattville people too brilliant at the game. + +It was wonderful how the young couples worked their way arm-in-arm +through the thickest crowds, never separating. Even at the lemonade +stands they drank holding the glasses in their outer hands--such are the +sacrifices demanded by etiquette. But, observing the gracious outpouring +of fortune upon the rustic with the rare accent, a youth in a green tie +disengaged his arm--for the first time in two hours--from that of a +girl upon whose finger there shone a ring, sumptuous and golden, and, +conducting her to a corner of the yard, bade her remain there until he +returned. He had to speak to Hartly Bowlder, he explained. + +Then he plunged, red-faced and excited, into the circle about the shell +manipulators, and offered, to lay a wager. + +“Hol' on there, Hen Fentriss,” thickly objected a flushed young man +beside him, “iss my turn.” + +“I'm first. Hartley,” returned the other. “You can hold yer bosses a +minute, I reckon.” + +“Plenty fer each and all, chents,” interrupted one of the shell-men. +“Place yer spondulicks on de little ball. Wich is de next lucky one +to win our money? Chent bets four sixty-five he seen de little ball +go under de middle shell. Up she comes! Dis time _we_ wins; Plattville +can't win _every_ time. Who's de next chent?” + +Fentriss edged slowly out of the circle, abashed, and with rapidly +whitening cheeks. He paused for a moment, outside, slowly realizing that +all his money had gone in one wild, blind whirl--the money he had earned +so hard and saved so hard, to make a holiday for his sweetheart and +himself. He stole one glance around the building to where a patient +figure waited for him. Then he fled down a side alley and soon was out +upon the country road, tramping soddenly homeward through the dust, his +chin sunk in his breast and his hands clenched tight at his sides. Now +and then he stopped and bitterly hurled a stone at a piping bird on a +fence, or gay Bob White in the fields. At noon the patient figure was +still waiting in the corner of the court-house yard, meekly twisting the +golden ring upon her finger. + +But the flushed young man who had spoken thickly to her deserter drew +an envied roll of bankbills from his pocket and began to bet with +tipsy caution, while the circle about the gamblers watched with fervid +interest, especially Mr. Bardlock, Town Marshal. + +From far up Main Street came the cry “She's a-comin'! She's a-comin'!” + and, this announcement of the parade proving only one of a dozen false +alarms, a thousand discussions took place over old-fashioned silver +timepieces as to when “she” was really due. Schofields' Henry was much +appealed to as an arbiter in these discussions, from a sense of his +having a good deal to do with time in a general sort of way; and thus +Schofields' came to be reminded that it was getting on toward ten +o'clock, whereas, in the excitement of festival, he had not yet struck +nine. This, rushing forthwith to do, he did; and, in the elation of the +moment, seven or eight besides. Miss Helen Sherwood was looking down on +the mass of shifting color from a second-story window--whither many +an eye was upturned in wonder--and she had the pleasure of seeing +Schofields' emerge on the steps beneath her, when the bells had done, +and heard the cheers (led by Mr. Martin) with which the laughing crowd +greeted his appearance after the performance of his feat. + +She turned beamingly to Harkless. “What a family it is!” she laughed. +“Just one big, jolly family. I didn't know people could be like this +until I came to Plattville.” + +“That is the word for it,” he answered, resting his hand on the casement +beside her. “I used to think it was desolate, but that was long ago.” He +leaned from the window to look down. In his dark cheek was a glow Carlow +folk had never seen there; and somehow he seemed less thin and tired; +indeed, he did not seem tired at all, by far the contrary; and he +carried himself upright (when he was not stooping to see under the +hat), though not as if he thought about it. “I believe they are the best +people I know,” he went on. “Perhaps it is because they have been so +kind to me; but they are kind to each other, too; kind, good people----” + +“I know,” she said, nodding--a flower on the gauzy hat set to vibrating +in a tantalizing way. “I know. There are fat women who rock and rock +on piazzas by the sea, and they speak of country people as the 'lower +classes.' How happy this big family is in not knowing it is the lower +classes!” “We haven't read Nordau down here,” said John. “Old Tom +Martin's favorite work is 'The Descent of Man.' Miss Tibbs admires +Tupper, and 'Beulah,' and some of us possess the works of E. P. Roe--and +why not?” + +“Yes; what of it,” she returned, “since you escape Nordau? I think the +conversation we hear from the other windows is as amusing and quite as +loud as most of that I hear in Rouen during the winter; and Rouen, you +know, is just like any other big place nowadays, though I suppose +there are Philadelphians, for instance, who would be slow to believe a +statement like that.” + +“Oh, but they are not all of Philadelphia----” He left the sentence, +smilingly. + +“And yet somebody said, 'The further West I travel the more convinced I +am the Wise Men came from the East.'” + +“Yes,” he answered. “'From' is the important word in that.” + +“It was a girl from Southeast Cottonbridge, Massachusetts,” said Helen, +“who heard I was from Indiana and asked me if I didn't hate to live so +far away from things.” There was a pause, while she leaned out of the +window with her face aside from him. Then she remarked carelessly, “I +met her at Winter Harbor.” + +“Do you go to Winter Harbor?” he asked. + +“We have gone there every summer until this one, for years. Have you +friends who go there?” + +“I had--once. There was a classmate of mine from Rouen----” + +“What was his name? Perhaps I know him.” She stole a glance at him. His +face had fallen into sad lines, and he looked like the man who had come +up the aisle with the Hon. Kedge Halloway. A few moments before he had +seemed another person entirely. + +“He's forgotten me, I dare say. I haven't seen him for seven years; and +that's a long time, you know. Besides, he's 'out in the world,' where +remembering is harder. Here in Plattville we don't forget.” + +“Were you ever at Winter Harbor?” + +“I was--once. I spent a very happy day there long ago, when you must +have been a little girl. Were you there in--” + +“Listen!” she cried. “The procession is coming. Look at the crowd!” The +parade had seized a psychological moment. + +There was a fanfare of trumpets in the east. Lines of people rushed for +the street, and, as one looked down on the straw hats and sunbonnets and +many kinds of finer head apparel, tossing forward, they seemed like surf +sweeping up the long beaches. + +She was coming at last. The boys whooped in the middle of the street; +some tossed their arms to heaven, others expressed their emotion by +somersaults; those most deeply moved walked on their hands. In the +distance one saw, over the heads of the multitude, tossing banners and +the moving crests of triumphal cars, where “cohorts were shining in +purple and gold.” She _was_ coming. After all the false alarms and +disappointments, she was coming! + +There was another flourish of music. Immediately all the band gave +sound, and then, with blare of brass and the crash of drums, the glory +of the parade burst upon Plattville. Glory in the utmost! The resistless +impetus of the march-time music; the flare of royal banners, of pennons +on the breeze; the smiling of beautiful Court Ladies and great, silken +Nobles; the swaying of howdahs on camel and elephant, and the awesome +shaking of the earth beneath the elephant's feet, and the gleam of his +small but devastating eye (every one declared he looked the alarmed Mr. +Snoddy full in the face as he passed, and Mr. Snoddy felt not at +all reassured when Tom Martin severely hinted that it was with the +threatening glance of a rival); then the badinage of the clown, creaking +along in his donkey cart; the terrific recklessness of the spangled hero +who was drawn by in a cage with two striped tigers; the spirit of the +prancing steeds that drew the rumbling chariots, and the grace of the +helmeted charioteers; the splendor of the cars and the magnificence +of the paintings with which they were adorned; the ecstasy of all this +glittering, shining, gorgeous pageantry needed even more than walking on +your hands to express. + +Last of all came the tooting calliope, followed by swarms of boys as it +executed, “Wait till the clouds roll by, Jennie” with infinite dash and +gusto. + +When it was gone, Miss Sherwood's intent gaze relaxed--she had been +looking on as eagerly as any child,--and she turned to speak to Harkless +and discovered that he was no longer in the room; instead, she found +Minnie and Mr. Willetts, whom he had summoned from another window. + +“He was called away,” explained Lige. “He thought he'd be back before +the parade was over, and said you were enjoying it so much he didn't +want to speak to you.” + +“Called away?” she said, inquiringly. + +Minnie laughed. “Oh, everybody sends for Mr. Harkless.” + +“It was a farmer, name of Bowlder,” added Mr. Willetts. “His son +Hartley's drinking again, and there ain't any one but Harkless can do +anything with him. You let him tackle a sick man to nurse, or a tipsy +one to handle, and I tell you,” Mr. Willetts went on with enthusiasm, +“he is at home. It beats me,--and lots of people don't think college +does a man any good! Why, the way he cured old Fis----” + +“See!” cried Minnie, loudly, pointing out of the window. “Look down +there. Something's happened.” + +There was a swirl in the crowd below. Men were running around a corner +of the court-house, and the women and children were harking after. They +went so fast, and there were so many of them, that immediately that +whole portion of the yard became a pushing, tugging, pulling, squirming +jam of people. + +“It's on the other side,” said Lige. “We can see from the hall window. +Come quick, before these other folks fill it up.” + +They followed him across the building, and looked down on an agitated +swarm of faces. Five men were standing on the entrance steps to the +door below, and the crowd was thickly massed beyond, leaving a little +semicircle clear about the steps. Those behind struggled to get closer, +and leaped in the air to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Harkless +stood alone on the top step, his hand resting on the shoulder of the +pale and contrite and sobered Hartley. In the clear space, Jim Bardlock +was standing with sheepishly hanging head, and between him and Harkless +were the two gamblers of the walnut shells. The journalist held in his +hand the implements of their profession. + +“Give it all up,” he was saying in his steady voice. “You've taken +eighty-six dollars from this boy. Hand it over.” + +The men began to edge closer to the crowd, giving little, swift, +desperate, searching looks from left to right, and right to left, moving +nervously about, like weasels in a trap. “Close up there tight,” said +Harkless, sharply. “Don't let them out.” + +“W'y can't we git no square treatment here?” one of the gamblers whined; +but his eyes, blazing with rage, belied the plaintive passivity of his +tone. “We been running no skin. Wy d'ye say we gotter give up our own +money? You gotter prove it was a skin. We risked our money fair.” + +“Prove it! Come up here, Eph Watts. Friends,” the editor turned to the +crowd, smiling, “friends, here's a man we ran out of town once, because +he knew too much about things of this sort. He's come back to us again +and he's here to stay. He'll give us an object-lesson on the shell +game.” + +“It's pretty simple,” remarked Mr. Watts. “The best way is to pick up +the ball with your second finger and the back part of your thumb as you +pretend to lay the shell down over it: this way.” He illustrated, and +showed several methods of manipulation, with professional sang-froid; +and as he made plain the easy swindle by which many had been duped that +morning, there arose an angry and threatening murmur. + +“You all see,” said Harkless, raising his voice a little, “what a simple +cheat it is--and old as Pharaoh. Yet a lot of you stood around and lost +your own money, and stared like idiots, and let Hartley Bowlder lose +eighty-odd dollars on a shell racket, and not one of you lifted a hand. +How hard did you work for what these two cheap crooks took from you? +Ah!” he cried, “it is because you were greedy that they robbed you so +easily. You know it's true. It's when you want to get something for +nothing that the 'confidence men' steal the money you sweat for and +make the farmer a laughing stock. And _you_, Jim Bardlock, Town +Marshal!--you, who confess that you 'went in the game sixty cents' +worth, yourself--” His eyes were lit with wrath as he raised his +accusing hand and levelled it at the unhappy municipal. + +The Town Marshal smiled uneasily and deprecatingly about him, and, +meeting only angry glances, hearing only words of condemnation, he +passed his hand unsteadily over his fat mustache, shifted from one +leg to the other and back again, looked up, looked down, and then, an +amiable and pleasure-loving man, beholding nothing but accusation and +anger in heaven and earth, and wishing nothing more than to sink into +the waters under the earth, but having no way of reaching them, finding +his troubles quite unbearable, and unable to meet the manifold eye of +man, he sought relief after the unsagacious fashion of a larger bird +than he. His burly form underwent a series of convulsions not unlike +sobs, and he shut his eyes tightly and held them so, presenting a +picture of misery unequalled in the memory of any spectator. Harkless's +outstretched hand began to shake. “You!” he tried to continue--“you, a +man elected to----” + +There came from the crowd the sound of a sad, high-keyed voice, +drawling: “That's a nice vest Jim's got on, but it ain't hardly the +feathers fitten for an ostrich, is it?” + +The editor's gravity gave way; he broke into a ringing laugh and turned +again to the shell-men. “Give up the boy's money. Hurry.” + +“Step down here and git it,” said the one who had spoken. + +There was a turbulent motion in the crowd, and a cry arose, “Run 'em +out! Ride 'em on a rail! Tar and feathers! Run 'em out o' town!” + +“I wouldn't dilly-dally long if I were you,” said Harkless, and his +advice seemed good to the shell-men. A roll of bills, which he counted +and turned over to the elder Bowlder, was sullenly placed in his hand. +The fellow who had not yet spoken clutched the journalist's sleeve with +his dirty hand. + +“We hain't done wit' youse,” he said, hoarsely. “Don't belief it, not +fer a minute, see?” + +The Town Marshal opened his eyes briskly, and placing a hand on each of +the gamblers, said: “I hereby do arrest your said persons, and declare +you my prisoners.” The cry rose again, louder: “Run 'em out! String 'em +up! Hang them! Hang them!” and a forward rush was made. + +“This way, Jim. Be quick,” said Harkless, quietly, bending down and +jerking one of the gamblers half-way up the steps. “Get through the hall +to the other side and then run them to the lock-up. No one will stop +you that way. Watts and I will hold this door.” Bardlock hustled his +prisoners through the doorway, and the crowd pushed up the steps, while +Harkless struggled to keep the vestibule clear until Watts got the +double doors closed. “Stand back, here!” he cried; “it's all over. Don't +be foolish. The law is good enough for us. Stand back, will you!” + +He was laughing a little, shoving them back with open hand and elbow, +when a small, compact group of men suddenly dashed up the steps +together, and a heavy stick swung out over their heads. A straw hat with +a gay ribbon sailed through the air. The journalist's long arms went +out swiftly from his body in several directions, the hands not open, but +clenched and hard. The next instant he and Mr. Watts stood alone on the +steps, and a man with a bleeding, blaspheming mouth dropped his +stick and tried to lose himself in the crowd. Mr. Watts was returning +something he had not used to his hip-pocket. + +“Prophets of Israel!” exclaimed William Todd, ruefully, “it wasn't Eph +Watts's pistol. Did you see Mr. Harkless? I was up on them steps when he +begun. I don't believe he needs as much takin' care of as we think.” + +“Wasn't it one of them Cross-Roads devils that knocked his hat off?” + asked Judd Bennett. “I thought I see Bob Skillett run up with a club.” + +Harkless threw open the doors behind him; the hall was empty. “You may +come in now,” he said. “This isn't my court-house.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. GLAD AFTERNOON: THE GIRL BY THE BLUE TENT-POLE + +They walked slowly back along the pike toward the brick house. The +white-ruffed fennel reached up its dusty yellow heads to touch her +skirts as she passed, and then drooped, satisfied, against the purple +iron-weed at the roadside. In the noonday silence no cricket chirped nor +locust raised its lorn monotone; the tree shadows mottled the road with +blue, and the level fields seemed to pant out a dazzling breath, the +transparent “heat-waves” that danced above the low corn and green wheat. + +He was stooping very much as they walked; he wanted to be told that +he could look at her for a thousand years. Her face was rarely and +exquisitely modelled, but, perhaps, just now the salient characteristic +of her beauty (for the salient characteristic seemed to be a different +thing at different times) was the coloring, a delicate glow under the +white skin, that bewitched him in its seeming a reflection of the rich +benediction of the noonday sun that blazed overhead. + +Once he had thought the way to the Briscoe homestead rather a long walk; +but now the distance sped malignantly; and strolled they never so +slow, it was less than a “young bird's flutter from a wood.” With her +acquiescence he rolled a cigarette, and she began to hum lightly the air +of a song, a song of an ineffably gentle, slow movement. + +That, and a reference of the morning, and, perhaps, the smell of his +tobacco mingling with the fragrance of her roses, awoke again the keen +reminiscence of the previous night within him. Clearly outlined before +him rose the high, green slopes and cool cliff-walls of the coast of +Maine, while his old self lazily watched the sharp little waves through +half-closed lids, the pale smoke of his cigarette blowing out under the +rail of a waxen deck where he lay cushioned. And again a woman pelted +his face with handfuls of rose-petals and cried: “Up lad and at 'em! +Yonder is Winter Harbor.” Again he sat in the oak-raftered Casino, +breathless with pleasure, and heard a young girl sing the “Angel's +Serenade,” a young girl who looked so bravely unconscious of the big, +hushed crowd that listened, looked so pure and bright and gentle and +good, that he had spoken of her as “Sir Galahad's little sister.” He +recollected he had been much taken with this child; but he had not +thought of her from that time to this, he supposed; had almost forgotten +her. No! Her face suddenly stood out to his view as though he saw +her with his physical eye--a sweet and vivacious child's face with +light-brown hair and gray eyes and a short upper lip. ... And the +voice.... + +He stopped short and struck his palms together. “You are Tom Meredith's +little cousin!” + +“The Great Harkless!” she answered, and stretched out her hand to him. + +“I remember you!” + +“Isn't it time?” + +“Ah, but I never forgot you,” he cried. “I thought I had. I didn't know +who it was I was remembering. I thought it was fancy, and it was memory. +I never forgot your voice, singing--and I remembered your face too; +though I thought I didn't.” He drew a deep breath. “_That_ was why----” + +“Tom Meredith has not forgotten you,” she said, as he paused. + +“Would you mind shaking hands once more?” he asked. She gave him her +hand again. “With all my heart. Why?” + +“I'm making a record at it. Thank you.” + +“They called me 'Sir Galahad's little sister' all one summer because the +Great John Harkless called me that. You danced with me in the evening.” + +“Did I?” + +“Ah,” she said, shaking her head, “you were too busy being in love with +Mrs. Van Skuyt to remember a waltz with only me! I was allowed to meet +you as a reward for singing my very best, and you--you bowed with the +indulgence of a grandfather, and asked me to dance.” + +“Like a grandfather? How young I was then! How time changes us!” + +“I'm afraid my conversation did not make a great impression upon you,” + she continued. + +“But it did. I am remembering very fast. If you will wait a moment, I +will tell you some of the things you said.” + +The girl laughed merrily. Whenever she laughed he realized that it was +becoming terribly difficult not to tell her how adorable she was. “I +wouldn't risk it, if I were you,” she warned him, “because I didn't +speak to you at all. I shut my lips tight and trembled all over every +bit of the time I was dancing with you. I did not sleep that night, +because I was so unhappy, wondering what the Great Harkless would think +of me. I knew he thought me unutterably stupid because I couldn't +talk to him. I wanted to send him word that I knew I had bored him. +I couldn't bear for him not to know that I knew I had. But he was not +thinking of me in any way. He had gone to sea again in a big boat, the +ungrateful pirate, cruising with Mrs. Van Skuyt.” + +“How time _does_ change us!” said John. “You are wrong, though; I did +think of you; I have al----” + +“Yes,” she interrupted, tossing her head in airy travesty of the stage +coquette, “you think so--I mean you say so--now. Away with you and your +blarneying!” + + + +And so they went through the warm noontide, and little he cared for the +heat that wilted the fat mullein leaves and made the barefoot boy, who +passed by, skip gingerly through the burning dust with anguished mouth +and watery eye. Little he knew of the locust that suddenly whirred his +mills of shrillness in the maple-tree, and sounded so hot, hot, hot; or +those others that railed at the country quiet from the dim shade around +the brick house; or even the rain-crow that sat on the fence and swore +to them in the face of a sunny sky that they should see rain ere the day +were done. + +Little the young man recked of what he ate at Judge Briscoe's good noon +dinner: chicken wing and young roas'n'-ear; hot rolls as light as +the fluff of a summer cloudlet; and honey and milk; and apple-butter +flavored like spices of Arabia; and fragrant, flaky cherry-pie; and +cool, rich, yellow cream. Lige Willetts was a lover, yet he said he +asked no better than to Just go on eating that cherry-pie till a sweet +death overtook him; but railroad sandwiches and restaurant chops might +have been set before Harkless for all the difference it would have made +to him. + +At no other time is a man's feeling of companionship with a woman +so strong as when he sits at table with her-not at a “decorated” and +becatered and bewaitered table, but at a homely, appetizing, wholesome +home table like old Judge Briscoe's. The very essence of the thing is +domesticity, and the implication is utter confidence and liking. There +are few greater dangers for a bachelor. An insinuating imp perches on +his shoulder, and, softly tickling the bachelor's ear with the feathers +of an arrow-shaft, whispers: “Pretty nice, isn't it, eh? Rather pleasant +to have that girl sitting there, don't you think? Enjoy having her +notice your butter-plate was empty? Think it exhilarating to hand her +those rolls? Looks nice, doesn't she? Says 'Thank you' rather prettily? +Makes your lonely breakfast seem mighty dull, doesn't it? How would you +like to have her pour your coffee for you to-morrow, my boy? How would +it seem to have such pleasant company all the rest of your life? Pretty +cheerful, eh?” + +When Miss Sherwood passed the editor the apple-butter, the casual, +matter-of-course way she did it entranced him in a strange, exquisite +wonderment. He did not set the dish down when she put it in his hand, +but held it straight out before him, just looking at it, until Mr. +Willetts had a dangerous choking fit, for which Minnie was very proud of +Lige; no one could have suspected that it was the veil of laughter. When +Helen told John he really must squeeze a lemon into his iced tea, he +felt that his one need in life was to catch her up in his arms and run +away with her, not anywhere in particular, but just run and run and run +away. + +After dinner they went out to the veranda and the gentlemen smoked. The +judge set his chair down on the ground, tilted back in it with his feet +on the steps, and blew a wavery domed city up in the air. He called it +solid comfort. He liked to sit out from under the porch roof, he said; +he wanted to see more of the sky. The others moved their chairs down to +join him in the celestial vision. There had blown across the heaven a +feathery, thin cloud or two, but save for these, there was nothing but +glorious and tender, brilliant blue. It seemed so clear and close one +marvelled the little church spire in the distance did not pierce it; +yet, at the same time, the eye ascended miles and miles into warm, +shimmering ether. Far away two buzzards swung slowly at anchor, half-way +to the sun. + + “'O bright, translucent, cerulean hue, + Let my wide wings drift on in you,'” + +said Harkless, pointing them out to Helen. + +“You seem to get a good deal of fun out of this kind of weather,” + observed Lige, as he wiped his brow and shifted his chair out of the +sun. + +“I expect you don't get such skies as this up in Rouen,” said the judge, +looking at the girl from between half-closed eyelids. + +“It's the same Indiana sky, I think,” she answered. + +“I guess maybe in the city you don't see as much of it, or think as much +about it. Yes, they're the Indiana skies,” the old man went on. + + Skies as blue + As the eyes of children when they smile at you.' + +“There aren't any others anywhere that ever seemed much like them to +me. They've been company for me all my life. I don't think there are any +others half as beautiful, and I know there aren't any as sociable. They +were always so.” He sighed gently, and Miss Sherwood fancied his wife +must have found the Indiana skies as lovely as he had, in the days of +long ago. “Seems to me they _are_ the softest and bluest and kindest in +the world.” + +“I think they are,” said Helen, “and they are more beautiful than the +'Italian skies,' though I doubt if many of us Hoosiers realize it; +and--certainly no one else does.” + +The old man leaned over and patted her hand. Harkless gasped. “'Us +Hoosiers!'” chuckled the judge. “You're a great Hoosier, young lady! How +much of your life have you spent in the State? 'Us Hoosiers!'” + +“But I'm going to be a good one,” she answered, gaily, “and if I'm good +enough, when I grow up maybe I'll be a great one.” + +The buckboard had been brought around, and the four young people climbed +in, Harkless driving. Before they started, the judge, standing on the +horse-block in front of the gate, leaned over and patted Miss Sherwood's +hand again. Harkless gathered up the reins. + +“You'll make a great Hoosier, all right,” said the old man, beaming upon +the girl. “You needn't worry about that, I guess, my dear.” + +When he said “my dear,” Harkless spoke to the horses. + +“Wait,” said the judge, still holding the girl's hand. “You'll make a +great Hoosier, some day; don't fret. You're already a very beautiful +one.” Then he bent his white head and kissed her, gallantly. John said: +“Good afternoon, judge”; the whip cracked like a pistol-shot, and the +buckboard dashed off in a cloud of dust. + +“Every once in a while, Harkless,” the old fellow called after them, +“you must remember to look at the team.” + +The enormous white tent was filled with a hazy yellow light, the warm, +dusty, mellow light that thrills the rejoicing heart because it is +found nowhere in the world except in the tents of a circus--the +canvas-filtered sunshine and sawdust atmosphere of show day. Through the +entrance the crowd poured steadily, coming from the absorptions of +the wild-animal tent to feast upon greater wonders; passing around the +sawdust ellipse that contained two soul-cloying rings, to find seats +whence they might behold the splendors so soon to be unfolded. Every one +who was not buying the eternal lemonade was eating something; and the +faces of children shone with gourmand rapture; indeed, very often the +eyes of them were all you saw, half-closed in palate-gloating over a +huge apple, or a bulky oblong of popcorn, partly unwrapped from its +blue tissue-paper cover; or else it might be a luscious pink crescent of +watermelon, that left its ravisher stained and dripping to the brow. + +Here, as in the morning, the hawkers raised their cries in +unintermittent shrillness, offering to the musically inclined the Happy +Evenings Song-book, alleged to contain those treasures, all the latest +songs of the day, or presented for the consideration of the humorous +the Lawrence Lapearl Joke-book, setting forth in full the art of comical +entertainment and repartee. (Schofields' Henry bought two of +these--no doubt on the principle that two were twice as instructive as +one--intending to bury himself in study and do battle with Tom Martin on +his own ground.) + +Here swayed the myriad palm-leaf fans; here paraded blushing youth and +rosy maiden, more relentlessly arm-in-arm than ever; here crept +the octogenarian, Mr. Bodeffer, shaking on cane and the shoulder of +posterity; here waddled Mr. Snoddy, who had hurried through the animal +tent for fear of meeting the elephant; here marched sturdy yeomen and +stout wives; here came William Todd and his Anna Belle, the good William +hushed with the embarrassments of love, but looking out warily with +the white of his eye for Mr. Martin, and determined not to sit within a +hundred yards of him; here rolled in the orbit of habit the bacchanal, +Mr. Wilkerson, who politely answered in kind all the uncouth roarings +and guttural ejaculations of jungle and fen that came from the animal +tent; in brief, here came with lightest hearts the population of Carlow +and part of Amo. + +Helen had found a true word: it was a big family. Jim Bardlock, broadly +smiling and rejuvenated, shorn of depression, paused in front of the +“reserve” seats, with Mrs. Bardlock on his arm, and called loudly to a +gentleman on a tier about the level of Jim's head: “How are ye? I reckon +we were a _little_ too smart fer 'em, this morning, huh?” Five or six +hundred people--every one within hearing--fumed to look at Jim; but the +gentleman addressed was engaged in conversation with a lady and did not +notice. + +“Hi! Hi, there! _Say_! Mr. Harkless!” bellowed Jim, informally. The +people turned to look at Harkless. His attention was arrested and his +cheek grew red. + +“_What is it_?” he asked, a little confused and a good deal annoyed. + +“I don't hear what ye say,” shouted Jim, putting his hand to his ear. + +“_What is it_?” repeated the young man. “I'll kill that fellow +to-night,” he added to Lige Willetts. “Some one ought to have done it +long ago.” + +“What?” + +“I _say_, WHAT IS IT?” + +“I only wanted to say me and you certainly did fool these here Hoosiers +this morning, huh? Hustled them two fellers through the court-house, and +nobody never thought to slip round to the other door and head us off. +Ha, ha! We were jest a _leetle_ too many fer 'em, huh?” + +From an upper tier of seats the rusty length of Mr. Martin erected +itself joint by joint, like an extension ladder, and he peered down +over the gaping faces at the Town Marshal. “Excuse me,” he said sadly to +those behind him, but his dry voice penetrated everywhere, “I got up to +hear Jim say 'We' again.” + +Mr. Bardlock joined in the laugh against himself, and proceeded with +his wife to some seats, forty or fifty feet distant. When he had settled +himself comfortably, he shouted over cheerfully to the unhappy editor: +“Them shell-men got it in fer you, Mr. Harkless.” + +“Ain't that fool shet up _yit_?” snarled the aged Mr. Bodeffer, +indignantly. He was sitting near the young couple, and the expression +of his sympathy was distinctly audible to them and many others. “Got +no more regards than a brazing calf-disturbin' a feller with his +sweetheart!” + +“The both of 'em says they're goin' to do fer you,” bleated Mr. +Bardlock. “Swear they'll git their evens with ye.” + +Mr. Martin rose again. “Don't git scared and leave town, Mr. Harkless,” + he called out; “Jim'll protect you.” + +Vastly to the young man's relief the band began to play, and the +equestrians and equestriennes capered out from the dressing-tent for the +“Grand Entrance,” and the performance commenced. Through the long +summer afternoon it went on: wonders of horsemanship and horsewomanship; +hair-raising exploits on wires, tight and slack; giddy tricks on the +high trapeze; feats of leaping and tumbling in the rings; while the +tireless musicians blatted inspiringly through it all, only pausing +long enough to allow that uproarious jester, the clown, to ask the +ring-master what he would do if a young lady came up and kissed him on +the street, and to exploit his hilarities during the short intervals of +rest for the athletes. + +When it was over, John and Helen found themselves in the midst of a +densely packed crowd, and separated from Miss Briscoe and Lige. People +were pushing and shoving, and he saw her face grow pale. He realized +with a pang of sympathy how helpless he would feel if he were as small +as she, and at his utmost height could only see big, suffocating backs +and huge shoulders pressing down from above. He was keeping them from +crowding heavily upon her with all his strength, and a royal feeling of +protectiveness came over him. She was so little. And yet, without the +remotest hint of hardness, she gave him such a distinct impression of +poise and equilibrium, she seemed so able to meet anything that might +come, to understand it--even to laugh at it--so Americanly capable and +sure of the event, that in spite of her pale cheek he could not feel +quite so protective as he wished to feel. + +He managed to get her to one of the tent-poles, and placed her with her +back to it. Then he set one of his own hands against it over her head, +braced himself and stood, keeping a little space about her, ruggedly +letting the crowd surge against him as it would; no one should touch her +in rough carelessness. + +“Thank you. It was rather trying in there,” she said, and looked up into +his eyes with a divine gratitude. + +“Please don't do that,” he answered in a low voice. + +“Do what?” + +“Look like that.” + +She not only looked like that, but more so. “Young man, young man,” she +said, “I fear you're wishful of turning a girl's head.” + +The throng was thick around them, garrulous and noisy, but they two were +more richly alone together, to his appreciation, than if they stood on +some far satellite of Mars. He was not to forget that moment, and he +kept the picture of her, as she leaned against the big blue tent-pole, +there, in his heart: the clear gray eyes lifted to his, the delicate +face with the color stealing back to her cheeks, and the brave little +figure that had run so straight to him out of the night shadows. There +was something about her, and in the moment, that suddenly touched him +with a saddening sweetness too keen to be borne; the forget-me-not +finger of the flying hour that could not come again was laid on his +soul, and he felt the tears start from his heart on their journey to his +eyes. He knew that he should always remember that moment. She knew it, +too. She put her hand to her cheek and turned away from him a little +tremulously. Both were silent. + +They had been together since early morning. Plattville was proud of him. +Many a friendly glance from the folk who jostled about them favored his +suit and wished both of them well, and many lips, opening to speak to +Harkless in passing, closed when their owners (more tactful than Mr. +Bardlock) looked a second time. + +Old Tom Martin, still perched alone On his high seat, saw them standing +by the tent-pole, and watched them from under his rusty hat brim. “I +reckon it's be'n three or four thousand years since I was young,” he +sighed to himself; then, pushing his hat still further down over his +eyes: “I don't believe I'd ort to rightly look on at that.” He +sighed again as he rose, and gently spoke the name of his dead wife: +“Marjie,--it's be'n lonesome, sometimes. I reckon you're mighty tired +waitin' for me, ever since sixty-four--yet maybe not; Ulysses S. Grant's +over on your side now, and perhaps you've got acquainted with him; you +always thought a good deal more of him than you did of me.” + +“Do you see that tall old man up there?” said Helen, nodding her head +toward Martin. “I think I should like to know him. I'm sure I like him.” + +“That is old Tom Martin.” + +“I know.” + +“I was sorry and ashamed about all that conspicuousness and shouting. +It must have been very unpleasant for you; it must have been so, for a +stranger. Please try to forgive me for letting you in for it.” + +“But I liked it. It was 'all in the family,' and it was so jolly and +good-natured, and that dear old man was so bright. Do you know,” she +said softly, “I don't think I'm such a stranger--I--I think I love all +these people a great deal--in spite of having known them only two days.” + +At that a wild exhilaration possessed him. He wanted to shake hands +with everybody in the tent, to tell them all that he loved them with +his whole heart, but, what was vastly more important, _she_ loved them a +great deal--in spite of having known them only two days! + +He made the horses prance on the homeward drive, and once, when she +told him that she had read a good many of his political columns in the +“Herald,” he ran them into a fence. After this it occurred to him that +they were nearing their destination and had come at a perversely sharp +gait; so he held the roans down to a snail's pace (if it be true that a +snail's natural gait is not a trot) for the rest of the way, while they +talked of Tom Meredith and books and music, and discovered that they +differed widely about Ibsen. + +They found Mr. Fisbee in the yard, talking to Judge Briscoe. As they +drove up, and before the horses had quite stopped, Helen leaped to the +ground and ran to the old scholar with both her hands outstretched to +him. He looked timidly at her, and took the hands she gave him; then +he produced from his pocket a yellow telegraph envelope, watching +her anxiously as she received it. However, she seemed to attach no +particular importance to it, and, instead of opening it, leaned toward +him, still holding one of his hands. + +“These awful old men!” Harkless groaned inwardly as he handed the horses +over to the judge. “I dare say _he_'ll kiss her, too.” But, when the +editor and Mr. Willetts had gone, it was Helen who kissed Fisbee. + +“They're coming out to spend the evening, aren't they?” asked Briscoe, +nodding to the young men as they set off down the road. + +“Lige has to come whether he wants to or not,” Minnie laughed, rather +consciously; “It's his turn to-night to look after Mr. Harkless.” + +“I guess he won't mind coming,” said the judge. + +“Well,” returned his daughter, glancing at Helen, who stood apart, +reading the telegram to Fisbee, “I know if he follows Mr. Harkless +he'll get here pretty soon after supper--as soon as the moon comes up, +anyway.” + +The editor of the “Herald” was late to his supper that evening. It was +dusk when he reached the hotel, and, for the first time in history, a +gentleman sat down to meat in that house of entertainment in evening +dress. There was no one in the diningroom when he went in; the other +boarders had finished, and it was Cynthia's “evening out,” but the +landlord came and attended to his guests' wants himself, and chatted +with him while he ate. + +“There's a picture of Henry Clay,” remarked Landis, in obvious relevancy +to his companion's attire, “there's a picture of Henry Clay somewheres +about the house in a swallow-tail coat. Governor Ray spoke here in one +in early times, Bodeffer says, except it was higher built up 'n yourn +about the collar, and had brass buttons, I think. Ole man Wimby was +here to-night,” the landlord continued, changing the subject. “He +waited around fer ye a good while. He's be'n mighty wrought up sence the +trouble this morning, an' wanted to see ye bad. I don't know 'f you +seen it, but that feller 't knocked your hat off was mighty near tore +to pieces in the crowd before he got away. 'Seems some the boys +re-_cog_-nized him as one the Cross-Roads Skillets, and sicked the dogs +on him, and he had a pretty mean time of it. Wimby says the Cross-Roads +folks'll be worse 'n ever, and, says he, 'Tell him to stick close to +town,' says he. 'They'll do anything to git him now,' says he, 'and +_resk_ anything.' I told him you wouldn't take no stock in it, but, see +here, don't you put nothin' too mean fer them folks. I tell you, Mr. +Harkless, plenty of us are scared fer ye.” + +The good fellow was so earnest that when the editor's meal was finished +and he would have departed, Landis detained him almost by force until +the arrival of Mr. Willetts, who, the landlord knew, was his allotted +escort' for the evening. When Lige came (wearing a new tie, a pink one +he had hastened to buy as soon as his engagements had allowed him +the opportunity), Mr. Landis hissed a savage word of reproach for his +tardiness in his ear, and whisperingly bade him not let the other out +of reach that night, to which Willetts replied with a nod implying his +trustworthiness; and the young men set off in the darkness. + +Harkless wondered if his costume were not an injustice to his companion, +but he did not regret it; he would wear his best court suit, his laces +and velvets, for deference to that lady. It was a painful thing to +remember his dusty rustiness of the night before, the awful Carlow cut +of his coat, and his formless black cravat; the same felt hat he wore +again to-night, perforce, but it was brushed--brushed almost to holes in +spots, and somehow he had added a touch of shape to it. His dress-coat +was an antique; fashions had changed, no doubt; he did not know; +possibly she would recognize its vintage--but it was a dress-coat. + +Lige walked along talking; Harkless answering “Yes” and “No” at random. +The woodland-spiced air was like champagne to him; the road under foot +so elastic and springy that he felt like a thoroughbred before a race; +he wanted to lift his foot knee-high at every step, he had so much +energy to spare. In the midst of a speech of Lige's about the look of +the wheat he suddenly gave out a sigh so deep, so heartfelt, so vibrant, +so profound, that Willetts turned with astonishment; but when his eye +reached his companion's face, Harkless was smiling. The editor extended +his hand. + +“Shake hands, Lige,” he cried. + +The moon peeped over the shoulder of an eastern wood, and the young +men suddenly descried their long shadows stretching in front of them. +Harkless turned to look at the silhouetted town, the tree-tops and roofs +and the Methodist church spire, silvered at the edges. + +“Do you see that town, Willetts?” he asked, laying his fingers on his +companion's sleeve. “That's the best town in the United States!” + +“I always kind of thought you didn't much like it,” said the other, +puzzled. “Seemed to me you always sort of wished you hadn't settled +here.” + +A little further on they passed Mr. Fisbee. He was walking into the +village with his head thrown back, a strange thing for him. They gave +him a friendly greeting and passed on. + +“Well, it beats me!” observed Lige, when the old man was out of hearing. +“He's be'n there to supper again. He was there all day yesterday, and +with 'em at the lecture, and at the deepo day before and he looks like +another man, and dressed up--for him--to beat thunder----What do you +expect makes him so thick out there all of a sudden?” + +“I hadn't thought about it. The judge and he have been friends a good +while, haven't they?” + +“Yes, three or four years; but not like this. It beats _me_! He's all +upset over Miss Sherwood, I think. Old enough to be her grandfather, +too, the old----” + +His companion stopped him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. + +“Listen!” + +They were at the corner of the Briscoe picket fence, and a sound lilted +through the stillness--a touch on the keys that Harkless knew. “Listen,” + he whispered. + +It was the “Moonlight Sonata” that Helen was playing. “It's a pretty +piece,” observed Lige after a time. John could have choked him, but he +answered: “Yes, it is seraphic.” + +“Who made it up?” pursued Mr. Willetts. + +“Beethoven.” + +“Foreigner, I expect. Yet in some way or another makes me think of +fishing down on the Wabash bend in Vigo, and camping out nights like +this; it's a mighty pretty country around there--especially at night.” + +The sonata was finished, and then she sang--sang the “Angel's Serenade.” + As the soft soprano lifted and fell in the modulations of that song +there was in its timbre, apart from the pure, amber music of it, a +questing, seeking pathos, and Willetts felt the hand on his shoulder +tighten and then relax; and, as the song ended, he saw that his +companion's eyes were shining and moist. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. NIGHT: IT IS BAD LUCK TO SING BEFORE BREAKFAST + +There was a lace of faint mists along the creek and beyond, when John +and Helen reached their bench (of course they went back there), and +broken roundelays were croaking from a bayou up the stream, where rakish +frogs held carnival in resentment of the lonesomeness. The air was still +and close. Hundreds of fire-flies coquetted with the darkness amongst +the trees across the water, glinting from unexpected spots, shading +their little lanterns for a second to glow again from other shadows. The +sky was a wonderful olive green; a lazy cloud drifted in it and lapped +itself athwart the moon. + +“The dead painters design the skies for us each day and night, I think,” + Helen said, as she dropped a little scarf from her shoulders and leaned +back on the bench. “It must be the only way to keep them happy and busy +'up there.' They let them take turns, and those not on duty, probably +float around and criticise.” + +“They've given a good man his turn to-night,” said John; “some quiet +colorist, a poetic, friendly soul, no Turner--though I think I've seen a +Turner sunset or two in Plattville.” + +“It was a sculptor's sunset this evening. Did you see it?--great +massy clouds piled heap on heap, almost with violence. I'm sure it was +Michelangelo. The judge didn't think it meant Michelangelo; he thought +it meant rain.” + +“Michelangelo gets a chance rather often, doesn't he, considering the +number of art people there must be over there? I believe I've seen a +good many sunsets of his, and a few dawns, too; the dawns not for a +long time--I used to see them more frequently toward the close of senior +year, when we sat up all night talking, knowing we'd lose one another +soon, and trying to hold on as long as we could.” + +She turned to him with a little frown. “Why have you never let Tom +Meredith know you were living so near him, less than a hundred miles, +when he has always liked and admired you above all the rest of mankind? +I know that he has tried time and again to hear of you, but the other +men wrote that they knew nothing--that it was thought you had gone +abroad. I had heard of you, and so must he have seen your name in the +Rouen papers--about the 'White-Caps,' and in politics--but he would +never dream of connecting the Plattville Mr. Harkless with _his_ Mr. +Harkless, though _I_ did, just a little, and rather vaguely. I knew, of +course, when you came into the lecture. But why haven't you written to +my cousin?” + +“Rouen seems a long way from here,” he answered quietly. “I've only been +there once--half a day on business. Except that, I've never been further +away than Amo or Gainesville, for a convention or to make a speech, +since I came here.” + +“Wicked!” she exclaimed, “To shut yourself up like this! I said it was +fine to drop out of the world; but why have you cut off your old friends +from you? Why haven't you had a relapse, now and then, and come over +to hear Ysaye play and Melba sing, or to see Mansfield or Henry Irving, +when we have had them? And do you think you've been quite fair to Tom? +What right had you to assume that he had forgotten you?” + +“Oh, I didn't exactly mean forgotten,” he said, pulling a blade of grass +to and fro between his fingers, staring at it absently. “It's only that +I have dropped out of the world, you know. I kept track of every one, +saw most of my friends, or corresponded, now and then, for a year or so +after I left college; but people don't miss you much after a while. +They rather expected me to do a lot of things, in a way, you know, and +I wasn't doing them. I was glad to get away. I always had an itch for +newspaper work, and I went on a New York paper. Maybe it was the wrong +paper; at least, I wasn't fit for it. There was something in the side +of life I saw, too, not only on the paper, that made me heart-sick; and +then the rush and fight and scramble to be first, to beat the other man. +Probably I am too squeamish. I saw classmates and college friends diving +into it, bound to come out ahead, dear old, honest, frank fellows, who +had been so happy-go-lucky and kind and gay, growing too busy to meet +and be good to any man who couldn't be good to them, asking (more +delicately) the eternal question, 'What does it get me?' You might think +I bad-met with unkindness; but it was not so; it was the other way more +than I deserved. But the cruel competition, the thousands fighting for +places, the multitude scrambling for each ginger-bread baton, the cold +faces on the streets--perhaps it's all right and good; of course it has +to _be_--but I wanted to get out of it, though I didn't want to come +_here_. That was chance. A new man bought the paper I was working for, +and its policy changed. Many of the same men still wrote for it, facing +cheerfully about and advocating a tricky theory, vehement champions of a +set of personal schemers and waxy images.” + +He spoke with feeling; but now, as though a trifle ashamed of too much +seriousness, and justifiably afraid of talking like one of his own +editorials, he took a lighter tone. “I had been taken on the paper +through a friend and not through merit, and by the same undeserved, +kindly influence, after a month or so I was set to writing short +political editorials, and was at it nearly two years. When the paper +changed hands the new proprietor indicated that he would be willing to +have me stay and write the other way. I refused; and it became somewhat +plain to me that I was beginning to be a failure. + +“A cousin of mine, the only relative I had, died in Chicago, and I went +to his funeral. I happened to hear of the Carlow 'Herald' through an +agent there, the most eloquent gentleman I ever met. I was younger, and +even more thoughtless than now, and I had a little money and I handed it +over for the 'Herald.' I wanted to run a paper myself, and to build up a +power! And then, though I only lived here the first few years of my +life and all the rest of it had been spent in the East, I was born in +Indiana, and, in a way, the thought of coming back to a life-work in my +native State appealed to me. I always had a dim sort of feeling that +the people out in these parts knew more--had more sense and were less +artificial, I mean--and were kinder, and tried less to be somebody else, +than almost any other people anywhere. And I believe it's so. It's dull, +here in Carlow, of course--that is, it used to be. The agent explained +that I could make the paper a daily at once, with an enormous +circulation in the country. I was very, very young. Then I came here and +saw what I had got. Possibly it is because I am sensitive that I never +let Tom know. They expected me to amount to something; but I don't +believe his welcome would be less hearty to a failure--he is a good +heart.” + +“Failure!” she cried, and clapped her hands and laughed. + +“I'm really not very tragic about it, though I must seem consumed with +self-pity,” he returned, smiling. “It is only that I have dropped out of +the world while Tom is still in it.” + +“Dropped out of the world!'” she echoed, impatiently. “Can't you see +you've dropped into it? That you----” + +“Last night I was honored by your praise of my graceful mode of quitting +it!” + +“And so you wish me to be consistent!” she retorted scornfully. “What +becomes of your gallantry when _we_ abide by reason?” + +“True enough; equality is a denial of privilege.” + +“And privilege is a denial of equality. I don't like that at all.” + She turned a serious, suddenly illuminated face upon him and spoke +earnestly. “It's my hobby, I should tell you, and I'm very tired of that +nonsense about 'women always sounding the personal note.' It _should_ +be sounded as we would sound it. And I think we could bear the loss of +'privilege'--” + +He laughed and raised a protesting hand. “But _we_ couldn't.” + +“No, you couldn't; it's the ribbon of superiority in your buttonhole. +I know several women who manage to live without men to open doors for +them, and I think I could bear to let a man pass before me now and then, +or wear his hat in an office where I happened to be; and I could get my +own ice at a dance, I think, possibly with even less fuss and scramble +than I've sometimes observed in the young men who have done it for me. +But you know you would never let us do things for ourselves, no matter +what legal equality might be declared, even when we get representation +for our taxation. You will never be able to deny yourselves giving +us our 'privilege.' I hate being waited on. I'd rather do things for +myself.” + +She was so earnest in her satire, so full of scorn and so serious in +her meaning, and there was such a contrast between what she said and her +person; she looked so preeminently the pretty marquise, all silks and +softness, the little exquisite, so essentially to be waited on and +helped, to have cloaks thrown over the dampness for her to tread upon, +to be run about for--he could see half a dozen youths rushing about +for her ices, for her carriage, for her chaperone, for her wrap, at +dances--that to save his life he could not repress a chuckle. He managed +to make it inaudible, however; and it was as well that he did. + +“I understand your love of newspaper work,” she went on, less +vehemently, but not less earnestly. “I have always wanted to do it +myself, wanted to immensely. I can't think of any more fascinating way +of earning one's living. And I know I could do it. Why don't you make +the 'Herald' a daily?” + +To hear her speak of “earning one's living” was too much for him. +She gave the impression of riches, not only for the fine texture and +fashioning of her garments, but one felt that luxuries had wrapped +her from her birth. He had not had much time to wonder what she did in +Plattville; it had occurred to him that it was a little odd that she +could plan to spend any extent of time there, even if she had liked +Minnie Briscoe at school. He felt that she must have been sheltered and +petted and waited on all her life; one could not help yearning to wait +on her. + +He answered inarticulately, “Oh, some day,” in reply to her question, +and then burst into outright laughter. + +“I might have known you wouldn't take me seriously,” she said with no +indignation, only a sad wistfulness. “I am well used to it. I think it +is because I am not tall; people take big girls with more gravity. Big +people are nearly always listened to.” + +“Listened to?” he said, and felt that he must throw himself on his knees +before her. “You oughtn't to mind being Titania. She was listened to, +you----” + +She sprang to her feet and her eyes flashed. “Do you think personal +comment is ever in good taste?” she cried fiercely, and in his surprise +he almost fell off the bench. “If there is one thing I cannot bear, +it is to be told that I am '_small_' I am not! Every one who isn't a +giantess isn't '_small_'. I _hate_ personalities! I am a great deal over +five feet, a great deal more than that. I----” + +“Please, _please_,” he said, “I didn't----” + +“Don't say you are sorry,” she interrupted, and in spite of his +contrition he found her angry voice delicious, it was still so sweet, +hot with indignation, but ringing, not harsh. “Don't say you didn't mean +it; because you did! You can't unsay it, you cannot alter it! Ah!” She +drew in her breath with a sharp sigh, and covering her face with her +hands, sank back upon the bench. “I will not cry,” she said, not so +firmly as she thought she did. + +“My blessed child!” he cried, in great distress and perturbation, “What +have I done? I--I----” + +“Call me 'small' all you like!” she answered. “I don't care. It isn't +that. You mustn't think me such an imbecile.” She dropped her hands from +her face and shook the tears from her eyes with a mournful laugh. He saw +that her hands were clenched tightly and her lip trembled. “I will not +cry!” she said in a low voice. + +“Somebody ought to murder me; I ought to have thought--personalities +_are_ hideous----” + +“Don't! It wasn't that.” + +“I ought to be shot----” + +“Ah, please don't say that,” she said, shuddering; “please don't, not +even as a joke--after last night.” + +“But I ought to be for hurting you, indeed----” + +She laughed sadly, again. “It wasn't that. I don't care what you call +me. I am small. You'll try to forgive me for being such a baby? I didn't +mean anything I said. I haven't acted so badly since I was a child.” + +“It's my fault, all of it. I've tired you out. And I let you get into +that crush at the circus--” he was going on, remorsefully. + +“_That_!” she interrupted. “I don't think I would have missed the +circus.” He had a thrilling hope that she meant the tent-pole; she +looked as if she meant that, but he dared not let himself believe it. + +“No,” he continued; “I have been so madly happy in being with you that +I've fairly worn out your patience. I've haunted you all day, and I +have----” + +“All that has nothing to do with it,” she said, slowly. “Just after you +left, this afternoon, I found that I could not stay here. My people are +going abroad, to Dresden, at once, and I must go with them. That's what +almost made me cry. I leave to-morrow morning.” + +He felt something strike at his heart. In the sudden sense of dearth +he had no astonishment that she should betray such agitation over +her departure from a place she had known so little, and friends who +certainly were not part of her life. He rose to his feet, and, resting +his arm against a sycamore, stood staring away from her at nothing. + +She did not move. There was a long silence. + +He had wakened suddenly; the skies had been sapphire, the sward emerald, +Plattville a Camelot of romance; to be there, enchantment--and now, like +a meteor burned out in a breath, the necromancy fell away and he gazed +into desolate years. The thought of the Square, his dusty office, the +bleak length of Main Street, as they should appear to-morrow, gave him +a faint physical sickness. To-day it had all been touched to beauty; he +had felt fit to live and work there a thousand years--a fool's dream, +and the waking was to emptiness. He should die now of hunger and thirst +in that Sahara; he hoped the Fates would let it be soon--but he knew +they would not; knew that this was hysteria, that in his endurance he +should plod on, plod, plod dustily on, through dingy, lonely years. + +There was a rumble of thunder far out on the western prairie. A cold +breath stole through the hot stillness, and an arm of vapor reached out +between the moon and the quiet earth. Darkness fell. The man and the +girl kept silence between them. They might have been two sad guardians +of the black little stream that splashed unseen at their feet. Now and +then an echo of far away lightning faintly illumined them with a green +light. Thunder rolled nearer, ominously; the gods were driving their +chariots over the bridge. The chill breath passed, leaving the air again +to its hot inertia. + +“I did not want to go,” she said, at last, with tears just below the +surface of her voice. “I wanted to stay here, but he--they wouldn't--I +can't.” + +“Wanted to stay here?” he said, huskily, not turning. “Here?” + +“Yes.” + +“In Rouen, you mean?” + +“In Plattville.” + +“In Plattville?” He turned now, astounded. + +“Yes; wouldn't you have taken me on the 'Herald'?” She rose and came +toward him. “I could have supported myself here if you would--and I've +studied how newspapers are made; I know I could have earned a wage. We +could have made it a daily.” He searched in vain for a trace of raillery +in her voice; there was none; she seemed to intend her words to be taken +literally. + +“I don't understand,” he said. “I don't know what you mean.” + +“I mean that I want to stay here; that I ought to stay here; that my +conscience tells me I should--but I can't and it makes me very unhappy. +That was why I acted so badly.” + +“Your conscience!” he cried. + +“Oh, I know what a jumble and puzzle it must seem to you.” + +“I only know one thing; that you are going away to-morrow morning, and +that I shall never see you again.” + +The darkness had grown heavy. They could not see each other; but a wan +glimmer gave him a fleeting, misty view of her; she stood half-turned +away from him, her hand to her cheek in the uncertain fashion of his +great moment of the afternoon; her eyes-he saw in the flying picture +that he caught--were adorably troubled and her hand trembled. She had +been irresistible in her gaiety; but now that a mysterious distress +assailed her, the reason for which he had no guess, she was so divinely +pathetic; and seemed such a rich and lovely and sad and happy thing to +have come into his life only to go out of it; and he was so full of +the prophetic sense of loss of her--it seemed so much like losing +everything--that he found too much to say to be able to say anything. + +He tried to speak, and choked a little. A big drop of rain fell on his +bare head. Neither of them noticed the weather or cared for it. They +stood with the renewed blackness hanging like a thick drapery between +them. + +“Can--can you--tell me why you think you ought not to go?” he whispered, +finally, with a great effort. + +“No; not now. But I know you would think I am right in wanting to stay,” + she cried, impulsively. “I know you would, if you knew about it--but I +can't, I can't. I must go in the morning.” + +“I should always think you right,” he answered in an unsteady tone, +“Always!” He went over to the bench, fumbled about for his hat, and +picked it up. + +“Come,” he said, gently, “I am going now.” + +She stood quite motionless for a full minute or longer; then, without a +word, she moved toward the house. He went to her with hands extended to +find her, and his fingers touched her sleeve. Then together and silently +they found the garden-path; and followed its dim length. In the orchard +he touched her sleeve again and led the way. + +As they came out behind the house she detained him. Stopping short, she +shook his hand from her arm. She spoke in a single breath, as if it were +all one word: + +“Will you tell me why you go? It is not late. Why do you wish to leave +me, when I shall not see you again?” + +“The Lord be good to me!” he broke out, all his long-pent passion of +dreams rushing to his lips, now that the barrier fell. “Don't you see +it is because I can't bear to let you go? I hoped to get away without +saying it. I want to be alone. I want to be with myself and try to +realize. I didn't want to make a babbling idiot of myself--but I am! +It is because I don't want another second of your sweetness to leave +an added pain when you've gone. It is because I don't want to hear your +voice again, to have it haunt me in the loneliness you will leave--but +it's useless, useless! I shall hear it always, just as I shall always +see your face, just as I have heard your voice and seen your face these +seven years--ever since I first saw you, a child at Winter Harbor. I +forgot for a while; I thought it was a girl I had made up out of my own +heart, but it was you--you always! The impression I thought nothing of +at the time, just the merest touch on my heart, light as it was, grew +and grew deeper until it was there forever. You've known me twenty-four +hours, and I understand what you think of me for speaking to you like +this. If I had known you for years and had waited and had the right to +speak and keep your respect, what have I to offer you? I, couldn't even +take care of you if you went mad as I and listened. I've no excuse for +this raving. Yes, I have!” + +He saw her in another second of lightning, a sudden, bright one. Her +back was turned to him; she had taken a few startled steps from him. + +“Ah,” he cried, “you are glad enough, now, to see me go! I knew it. I +wanted to spare myself that. I tried not to be a hysterical fool in your +eyes.” He turned aside and his head fell on his breast. “God help me,” + he said, “what will this place be to me now?” + +The breeze had risen; it gathered force; it was a chill wind, and there +rose a wailing on the prairie. Drops of rain began to fall. + +“You will not think a question implied in this,” he said more +composedly, and with an unhappy laugh at himself. “I believe you will +not think me capable of asking you if you care----” + +“No,” she answered; “I--I do not love you.” + +“Ah! Was it a question, after all? I--you read me better than I do, +perhaps--but if I asked, I knew the answer.” + +She made as if to speak again, but words refused her. + +After a moment, “Good-by,” he said, very steadily. “I thank you for +the charity that has given me this little time with you--it will always +be--precious to me--I shall always be your servant.” His steadiness did +not carry him to the end of his sentence. “Good-by.” + +She started toward him and stopped, without his seeing her. She answered +nothing; but stretched out her hand to him and then let it fall quickly. + +“Good-by,” he said again. “I shall go out the orchard gate. Please tell +them good-night for me. Won't you speak to me? Good-by.” + +He stood waiting while the rising wind blew their garments about them. +She leaned against the wall of the house. “Won't you say good-by and +tell me you can forget my----” + +She did not speak. + +“No!” he cried, wildly. “Since you don't forget it! I have spoiled +what might have been a pleasant memory for you, and I know it. You were +already troubled, and I have added, and you won't forget it, nor shall +I--nor shall I! Don't say good-by--I can say it for both of us. God +bless you--and good-by, good-by, good-by!” + +He crushed his hat down over his eyes and ran toward the orchard gate. +For a moment lightning flashed repeatedly; she saw him go out the gate +and disappear into sudden darkness. He ran through the field and came +out on the road. Heaven and earth were revealed again for a dazzling +white second. From horizon to horizon rolled clouds contorted like +an illimitable field of inverted haystacks, and beneath them enormous +volumes of pale vapor were tumbling in the west, advancing eastward with +sinister swiftness. She ran to a little knoll at the corner of the house +and saw him set his face to the storm. She cried aloud to him with all +her strength and would have followed, but the wind took the words out of +her mouth and drove her back cowering to the shelter of the house. + +Out on the road the dust came lashing and stinging him like a thousand +nettles; it smothered him, and beat upon him so that he covered his face +with his sleeve and fought into the storm shoulder foremost, dimly glad +of its rage, scarcely conscious of it, keeping westward on his way to +nowhere. West or east, south or north--it was all one to him. The few +heavy drops that fell boiling into the dust ceased to come; the rain +withheld while the wind-kings rode on earth. On he went in spite of +them. On and on, running blindly when he could run at all. At least, the +wind-kings were company. He had been so long alone. He could remember no +home that had ever been his since he was a little child, neither father +nor mother, no one who belonged to him or to whom he belonged, except +one cousin, an old man who was dead. For a day his dreams had found in a +girl's eyes the precious thing that is called home--oh, the wild fancy! +He laughed aloud. + +There was a startling answer; a lance of living fire hurled from +the sky, riving the fields before his eyes, while crash on crash of +artillery numbed his ears. With that his common-sense awoke and he +looked about him. He was almost two miles from town; the nearest house +was the Briscoes' far down the road. He knew the rain would come now. +There was a big oak near him at the roadside. He stepped under its +sheltering branches and leaned against the great trunk, wiping the +perspiration and dust from his face. A moment of stunned quiet had +succeeded the peal of thunder. It was followed by several moments of +incessant lightning that played along the road and danced in the fields. +From that intolerable brightness he turned his head and saw, standing +against the fence, five feet away, a man, leaning over the top rail and +looking at him. + + + +The same flash staggered brilliantly before Helen's eyes as she crouched +against the back steps of the brick house. It scarred a picture like a +marine of big waves: the tossing tops of the orchard trees; for in the +same second the full fury of the storm was loosed, wind and rain and +hail. It drove her against the kitchen door with cruel force; the latch +lifted, the door blew open violently, and she struggled to close it in +vain. The house seemed to rock. A lamp flickered toward her from the +inner doorway and was blown out. + +“Helen! Helen!” came Minnie's voice, anxiously. “Is that you? We were +coming to look for you. Did you get wet?” + +Mr. Willetts threw his weight against the door and managed to close it. +Then Minnie found her friend's hand and led her through the dark hall to +the parlor where the judge sat, placidly reading by a student-lamp. + +Lige chuckled as they left the kitchen. “I guess you didn't try too hard +to shut that door, Harkless,” he said, and then, when they came into the +lighted room, “Why, where _is_ Harkless?” he asked. “Didn't he come with +us from the kitchen?” + +“No,” answered Helen, faintly; “he's gone.” She sank upon the sofa and +drew her hand across her eyes as if to shade them from too sudden light. + +“Gone!” The judge dropped his book and stared across the table at the +girl. “Gone! When?” + +“Ten minutes--five--half an hour--I don't know. Before the storm +commenced.” + +“Oh!” The old gentleman appeared to be reassured. “Probably he had work +to do and wanted to get in before the rain.” + +But Lige Willetts was turning pale. He swallowed several times with +difficulty. “Which way did he go? He didn't come around the house; we +were out there till the storm broke.” + +“He went by the orchard gate. When he got to the road he turned that +way.” She pointed to the west. + +“He must have been crazy!” exclaimed the judge. “What possessed the +fellow?” + +“I couldn't stop him. I didn't know how.” She looked at her three +companions, slowly and with growing terror, from one face to another. +Minnie's eyes were wide and she had unconsciously grasped Lige's arm; +the young man was looking straight before him; the judge got up and +walked nervously back and forth. Helen rose to her feet swiftly and went +toward the old man, her hands pressed to her bosom. + +“Ah!” she cried out, sharply, “I had forgotten _that_! You don't think +they--you don't think----” + +“I know what I think,” Lige broke in; “I think I'd ought to be hanged +for letting him out of my sight. Maybe it's all right; maybe he turned +and started right back for town--and got there. But I had no business +to leave him, and if I can I'll catch up with him yet.” He went to the +front door, and, opening it, let in a tornado of wind and flood of water +that beat him back; sheets of rain blew in horizontally, in spite of the +porch beyond. + +Briscoe followed him. “Don't be a fool, Lige,” he said. “You hardly +expect to go out in that.” Lige shook his head; it needed them both +to get the door closed. The young man leaned against it and passed his +sleeve across his wet brow. “I hadn't ought to have left him.” + +“Don't scare the girls,” whispered the other; then in a louder tone: +“All I'm afraid of is that he'll get blown to pieces or catch his death +of cold. That's all there is to worry about. Those scalawags wouldn't +try it again so soon after last night. I'm not bothering about that; not +at all. That needn't worry anybody.” + +“But this morning----” + +“Pshaw! He's likely home and dry by this time--all foolishness; don't be +an old woman.” The two men reentered the room and found Helen clinging +to Minnie's hand on the sofa. She looked up at them quickly. + +“Do you think--do you--what do you--” Her voice shook so that she could +not go on. + +The judge pinched her cheek and patted it. “I think he's home and dry, +but I think he got wet first; that's what I think. Never you fear, he's +a good hand at taking care of himself. Sit down, Lige. You can't go for +a while.” Nor could he. It was long before he could venture out; the +storm raged and roared without abatement; it was Carlow's worst since +'Fifty-one, the old gentleman said. They heard the great limbs crack and +break outside, while the thunder boomed and the wind ripped at the +eaves till it seemed the roof must go. Meanwhile the judge, after some +apology, lit his pipe and told long stories of the storms of early +days and of odd freaks of the wind. He talked on calmly, the picture of +repose, and blew rings above his head, but Helen saw that one of his +big slippers beat an unceasing little tattoo on the carpet. She sat with +fixed eyes, in silence, holding Minnie's hand tightly; and her face was +colorless, and grew whiter as the slow hours dragged by. + +Every moment Mr. Willetts became more restless, though assuring the +ladies he had no anxiety regarding Mr. Harkless; it was only his own +dereliction of duty that he regretted; the boys would have the laugh +on him, he said. But he visibly chafed more and more under the judge's +stories; and constantly rose to peer out of the window into the wrack +and turmoil, or uneasily shifted in his chair. Once or twice he struck +his hands together with muttered ejaculations. At last there was a lull +in the fury without, and, as soon as it was perceptible, he declared his +intention of making his way into town; he had ought to have went before, +he declared, apprehensively; and then, with immediate amendment, of +course he would find the editor at work in the “Herald” office; there +wasn't the slightest doubt of that; he agreed with the judge, but he +better see about it. He would return early in the morning to bid Miss +Sherwood good-by; hoped she'd come back, some day; hoped it wasn't her +last visit to Plattville. They gave him an umbrella and he plunged out +into the night, and as they stood watching him for a moment from the +door, the old man calling after him cheery good-nights and laughing +messages to Harkless, they could hear his feet slosh into the puddles +and see him fight with his umbrella when he got out into the road. + +Helen's room was over the porch, the windows facing north, looking out +upon the pike and across the fields beyond. “Please don't light the +lamp, Minnie,” she said, when they had gone upstairs. “I don't need a +light.” Miss Briscoe was flitting about the room, hunting for matches. +In the darkness she came to her friend, and laid a kind, large hand on +Helen's eyes, and the hand became wet. She drew Helen's head down on her +shoulder and sat beside her on the bed. + +“Sweetheart, you mustn't fret,” she soothed, in motherly fashion. +“Don't you worry, dear. He's all right. It isn't your fault, dear. They +wouldn't come on a night like this.” + +But Helen drew away and went to the window, flattening her arm against +the pane, her forehead pressed against her arm. She had let him go; she +had let him go alone. She had forgotten the danger that always beset +him. She had been so crazy, she had seen nothing, thought of nothing. +She had let him go into that, and into the storm, alone. Who knew better +than she how cruel they were? She had seen the fire leap from the white +blossom and heard the ball whistle, the ball they had meant for his +heart, that good, great heart. She had run to him the night before--why +had she let him go into the unknown and the storm to-night? But how +could she have stopped him? How could she have kept him, after what he +had said? She peered into the night through distorting tears. + +The wind had gone down a little, but only a little, and the electrical +flashes danced all around the horizon in magnificent display, sometimes +far away, sometimes dazingly near, the darkness trebly deep between the +intervals when the long sweep of flat lands lay in dazzling clearness, +clean-cut in the washed air to the finest detail of stricken field and +heaving woodland. A staggering flame clove earth and sky; sheets of +light came following it, and a frightful uproar shook the house and +rattled the casements, but over the crash of thunder Minnie heard her +friend's loud scream and saw her spring back from the window with both +hands, palm outward, pressed to her face. She leaped to her and threw +her arms about her. + +“What is it?” + +“Look!” Helen dragged her to the window. “At the next flash--the fence +beyond the meadow----” + +“What was it? What was it like?” The lightning flashed incessantly. +Helen tried to point; her hand only jerked from side to side. + +“_Look_!” she cried. + +“I see nothing but the lightning,” Minnie answered, breathlessly. + +“Oh, the _fence_! The fence--and in the field!” + +“_Helen_! What was it _like_?” + +“Ah-ah!” she panted, “a long line of white--horrible white----” + +“What _like_?” Minnie turned from the window and caught the other's +wrist in a fluttering clasp. + +“Minnie, Minnie! Like long white gowns and cowls crossing the fence.” + Helen released her wrist, and put both hands on Minnie's cheeks, forcing +her around to face the pane. “You must look--you must look,” she cried. + +“They wouldn't do it, they wouldn't--it _isn't_!” Minnie cried. “They +couldn't come in the storm. They wouldn't do it in the pouring rain!” + +“Yes! Such things would mind the rain!” She burst into hysterical +laughter, and Minnie, almost as unnerved, caught her about the waist. +“They would mind the rain. They would fear a storm! Ha, ha, ha! +Yes--yes! And I let him go--I let him go!” + +Pressing close together, shuddering, clasping each other's waists, the +two girls peered out at the flickering landscape. + +“_Look_!” + +Up from the distant fence that bordered the northern side of Jones's +field, a pale, pelted, flapping thing reared itself, poised, and seemed, +just as the blackness came again, to drop to the ground. + +“Did you _see_?” + +But Minnie had thrown herself into a chair with a laugh of wild relief. +“My darling girl!” she cried. “Not a line of white things--just one--Mr. +Jones's old scarecrow! And we saw it blown down!” + +“No, no, no! I saw the others; they were in the field beyond. I saw +them! When I looked the first time they were nearly all on the fence. +This time we saw the last man crossing. Ah! I let him go alone!” + +Minnie sprang up and enfolded her. “No; you dear, imagining child, +you're upset and nervous--that's all the matter in the world. Don't +worry; don't, child, it's all right. Mr. Harkless is home and safe in +bed long ago. I know that old scarecrow on the fence like a book; you're +so unstrung you fancied the rest. He's all right; don't you bother, +dear.” + +The big, motherly girl took her companion in her arms and rocked her +back and forth soothingly, and petted and reassured her, and then cried +a little with her, as a good-hearted girl always will with a friend. +Then she left her for the night with many a cheering word and tender +caress. “Get to sleep, dear,” she called through the door when she had +closed it behind her. “You must, if you have to go in the morning--it +just breaks my heart. I don't know how we'll bear it without you. Father +will miss you almost as much as I will. Good-night. Don't bother +about that old white scarecrow. That's all it was. Good-night, dear, +good-night.” + +“Good-night, dear,” answered a plaintive little voice. Helen's hot cheek +pressed the pillow and tossed from side to side. By and by she turned +the pillow over; it had grown wet. The wind blew about the eaves and +blew itself out; she hardly heard it. Sleep would not come. She got +up and laved her burning eyes. Then she sat by the window. The storm's +strength was spent at last; the rain grew lighter and lighter, until +there was but the sound of running water and the drip, drip on the tin +roof of the porch. Only the thunder rumbling in the distance marked the +storm's course; the chariots of the gods rolling further and further +away, till they finally ceased to be heard altogether. The clouds parted +majestically, and then, between great curtains of mist, the day-star was +seen shining in the east. + +The night was hushed, and the peace that falls before dawn was upon +the wet, flat lands. Somewhere in the sodden grass a swamped cricket +chirped. From an outlying flange of the village a dog's howl rose +mournfully; was answered by another, far away, and by another and +another. The sonorous chorus rose above the village, died away, and +quiet fell again. + +Helen sat by the window, no comfort touching her heart. Tears coursed +her cheeks no longer, but her eyes were wide and staring, and her lips +parted, for the hush was broken by the far clamor of the court-house +bell ringing in the night. It rang, and rang, and rang, and rang. She +could not breathe. She threw open the window. The bell stopped. All was +quiet once more. The east was growing gray. + +Suddenly out of the stillness there came the sound of a horse galloping +over a wet road. He was coming like mad. Some one for a doctor? No; +the horse-hoofs grew louder, coming out from the town, coming this +way, coming faster and faster, coming _here_. There was a splashing and +trampling in front of the house and a sharp “Whoa!” In the dim gray of +first dawn she made out a man on a foam-flecked horse. He drew up at the +gate. + +A window to the right of hers went screeching up. She heard the judge +clear his throat before he spoke. + +“What is it? That's you, isn't it, Wiley? What is it?” He took a good +deal of time and coughed between the sentences. His voice was more than +ordinarily quiet, and it sounded husky. “What is it, Wiley?” + +“Judge, what time did Mr. Harkless leave here last night and which way +did he go?” + +There was a silence. The judge turned away from the window. Minnie was +standing just outside his door. “It must have been about half-past nine, +wasn't it, father?” she called in a shaking voice. “And, you know, Helen +thought he went west.” + +“Wiley!” The old man leaned from the sill again. + +“Yes!” answered the man on horseback. + +“Wiley, he left about half-past nine--just before the storm. They think +he went west.” + +“Much obliged. Willetts is so upset he isn't sure of anything.” + + +“Wiley!” The old man's voice shook; Minnie began to cry aloud. The +horseman wheeled about and turned his animal's head toward town. +“Wiley!” + +“Yes.” + +“Wiley, they haven't--you don't think they've got him?” + +“By God, judge,” said the man on horseback, “I'm afraid they have!” + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE COURT-HOUSE BELL + +The court-house bell ringing in the night! No hesitating stroke of +Schofields' Henry, no uncertain touch, was on the rope. A loud, wild, +hurried clamor pealing out to wake the country-side, a rapid _clang! +clang! clang!_ that struck clear in to the spine. + +The court-house bell had tolled for the death of Morton, of Garfield, of +Hendricks; had rung joy-peals of peace after the war and after political +campaigns; but it had rung as it was ringing now only three times; once +when Hibbard's mill burned, once when Webb Landis killed Sep Bardlock +and intrenched himself in the lumber-yard and would not be taken till he +was shot through and through, and once when the Rouen accommodation was +wrecked within twenty yards of the station. + +Why was the bell ringing now? Men and women, startled into wide +wakefulness, groped to windows--no red mist hung over town or country. +What was it? The bell rang on. Its loud alarm beat increasingly into +men's hearts and quickened their throbbing to the rapid measure of +its own. Vague forms loomed in the gloaming. A horse, wildly ridden, +splashed through the town. There were shouts; voices called hoarsely. +Lamps began to gleam in the windows. Half-clad people emerged from their +houses, men slapping their braces on their shoulders as they ran out of +doors. Questions were shouted into the dimness. + +Then the news went over the town. + +It was cried from yard to yard, from group to group, from gate to gate, +and reached the furthermost confines. Runners shouted it as they sped +by; boys panted it, breathless; women with loosened hair stumbled into +darkling chambers and faltered it out to new-wakened sleepers; pale +girls clutching wraps at their throats whispered it across fences; the +sick, tossing on their hard beds, heard it. The bell clamored it far and +near; it spread over the country-side; it flew over the wires to distant +cities. The White-Caps had got Mr. Harkless! + +Lige Willetts had lost track of him out near Briscoes', it was said, and +had come in at midnight seeking him. He had found Parker, the “Herald” + foreman, and Ross Schofield, the typesetter, and Bud Tipworthy, the +devil, at work in the printing-room, but no sign of Harkless, there or +in the cottage. Together these had sought for him and had roused others, +who had inquired at every house where he might have gone for shelter, +and they had heard nothing. They had watched for his coming during the +slackening of the storm and he had not come, and there was nowhere he +could have gone. He was missing; only one thing could have happened. + +They had roused up Warren Smith, the prosecutor, the missing editor's +most intimate friend in Carlow, and Homer, the sheriff, and Jared Wiley, +the deputy. William Todd had rung the alarm. The first thing to do was +to find him. After that there would be trouble--if not before. It looked +as if there would be trouble before. The men tramping up to the muddy +Square in their shirt-sleeves were bulgy about the right hips; and when +Homer Tibbs joined Lum Landis at the hotel corner, and Landis saw that +Homer was carrying a shot-gun, Landis went back for his. A hastily sworn +posse galloped out Main Street. Women and children ran into neighbors' +yards and began to cry. Day was coming; and, as the light grew, men +swore and savagely kicked at the palings of fences that they passed. + +In the foreglow of dawn they gathered in the Square and listened to +Warren Smith, who made a speech from the court-house fence and warned +them to go slow. They answered him with angry shouts and hootings, but +he made his big voice heard, and bade them do nothing rash; no facts +were known, he said; it was far from certain that harm had been done, +and no one knew that the Six-Cross-Roads people had done it--even if +something had happened to Mr. Harkless. He declared that he spoke in +Harkless's name. Nothing could distress _him_ so much as for them to +defy the law, to take it out of the proper hands. Justice would be done. + +“Yes it will!” shouted a man below him, brandishing the butt of a +raw-hide whip above his head. “And while you jaw on about it here, he +may be tied up like a dog in the woods, shot full of holes by the men +you never lifted a finger to hender, because you want their votes when +you run for circuit judge. What are we doin' _here_? What's the good of +listening to you?” + +There was a yell at this, and those who heard the speaker would probably +have started for the Cross-Roads without further parley, had not a rumor +sprung up, which passed so rapidly from man to man that within five +minutes it was being turbulently discussed in every portion of the +crowd. The news came that the two shell-gamblers had wrenched a bar +out of a window under cover of the storm, had broken jail, and were +at large. Their threats of the day before were remembered now, with +convincing vividness. They had sworn repeatedly to Bardlock and to the +sheriff, and in the hearing of others, that they would “do” for the man +who took their money from them and had them arrested. The prosecuting +attorney, quickly perceiving the value of this complication in holding +back the mob that was already forming, called Homer from the crowd +and made him get up on the fence and confess that his prisoners had +escaped--at what time he did not know, probably toward the beginning of +the storm, when it was noisiest. + +“You see,” cried the attorney, “there is nothing as yet of which we can +accuse the Cross-Roads. If our friend has been hurt, it is much more +likely that these crooks did it. They escaped in time to do it, and +we all know they were laying for him. You want to be mighty careful, +fellow-citizens. Homer is already in telegraphic communication with +every town around here, and we'll have those men before night. All +you've got to do is to control yourselves a little and go home quietly.” + He could see that his words (except those in reference to returning +home--no one was going home) made an impression. There rose a babble of +shouting and argument and swearing that grew continually louder, and +the faces the lawyer looked down on were creased with perplexity, and +shadowed with an anger that settled darker and darker. + +Mr. Ephraim Watts, in spite of all confusion, clad as carefully as +upon the preceding day, deliberately climbed the fence and stood by the +lawyer and made a single steady gesture with his hand. He was listened +to at once, as his respect for the law was less notorious than his +irreverence for it, and he had been known in Carlow as a customarily +reckless man. They wanted illegal and desperate advice, and quieted down +to hear it. He spoke in his professionally calm voice. + +“Gentlemen, it seems to me that Mr. Smith and Mr. Ribshaw” (nodding to +the man with the rawhide whip) “are both right. What good are we doing +here? What we want to know is what's happened to Mr. Harkless. It looks +just now like the shell-men might have done it. Let's find out what they +done. Scatter and hunt for him. 'Soon as anything is known for certain, +Hibbard's mill whistle will blow three times. Keep on looking till it +does. _Then_” he finished, with a barely perceptible scornful smile at +the attorney, “_then_ we can decide on what had ought to be done.” + +Six-Cross-Roads lay dark and steaming in the sun that morning. The forge +was silent, the saloon locked up, the roadway deserted, even by the +pigs. The broken old buggy stood rotting in the mud without a +single lean, little old man or woman--such were the children of +the Cross-Roads--to play about it. The fields were empty, and the +rag-stuffed windows blank, under the baleful glance of the horsemen +who galloped by at intervals, muttering curses, not always confining +themselves to muttering them. Once, when the deputy sheriff rode +through alone, a tattered black hound, more wolf than dog, half-emerged, +growling, from beneath one of the tumble-down barns, and was jerked back +into the darkness by his tail, with a snarl fiercer than his own, while +a gun-barrel shone for a second as it swung for a stroke on the brute's +head. The hound did not yelp or whine when the blow fell. He shut his +eyes twice, and slunk sullenly back to his place. + +The shanties might have received a volley or two from some of the +mounted bands, exasperated by futile searching, had not the escape of +Homer's prisoners made the guilt of the Cross-Roads appear doubtful in +the minds of many. As the morning waned, the advocates of the theory +that the gamblers had made away with Harkless grew in number. There came +a telegram from the Rouen chief of police that he had a clew to their +whereabouts; he thought they had succeeded in reaching Rouen, and it +began to be generally believed that they had escaped by the one-o'clock +freight, which had stopped to take on some empty cars at a side-track +a mile northwest of the town, across the fields from the Briscoe house. +Toward noon a party went out to examine the railroad embankment. + +Men began to come back into the village for breakfast by twos and +threes, though many kept on searching the woods, not feeling the need of +food, or caring if they did. Every grove and clump of underbrush, every +thicket, was ransacked; the waters of the creek, shallow for the most +part, but swollen overnight, were dragged at every pool. Nothing was +found; there was not a sign. + +The bar of the hotel was thronged all morning as the returning citizens +rapidly made their way thither, and those who had breakfasted and were +going out again paused for internal, as well as external, reinforcement. +The landlord, himself returned from a long hunt, set up his whiskey with +a lavish hand. + +“He was the best man we had, boys,” said Landis, as he poured the +little glasses full. “We'd ort of sent him to the legislative halls of +Washington long ago. He'd of done us honor there; but we never thought +of doin' anything fer him; jest set 'round and let him build up the +town and give him empty thankyes. Drink hearty, gentlemen,” he finished, +gloomily, “I don't grudge no liquor to-day--except to Lige Willetts.” + +“He was a good man,” said young William Todd, whose nose was red, not +from the whiskey. “I've about give up.” + +Schofields' Henry drew his sleeve across his eyes. “He was the only man +in this whole city that didn't jab and nag at me when I done my best,” + he exclaimed, with an increasing break in his utterance. “Many a good +word I've had from him when nobody in town done nothin' but laugh an' +rile an' badger me about my--my bell.” And Schofields' Henry began to +cry openly. + +“He was a great hand with the chuldern,” said one man. “Always have +something to say to 'em to make 'em laugh when he went by. 'Talk more to +them 'n he would to grown folks. Yes, sir.” + +“They knowed _him_ all right,” added another. “I reckon all of us did, +little and big.” + +“It's goin' to seem mighty empty around here,” said Ross Schofield. +“What's goin' to become o' the 'Herald' and the party in this district? +Where's the man to run either of 'em now. Like as not,” he concluded +desperately, “the election'll go against us in the fall.” + +Dibb Zane choked over his four fingers. “We might's well bust up this +dab-dusted ole town ef he's gone.” + +“I don't know what's come over that Cynthy Tipworthy,” said the +landlord. “She's waited table on him last two year, and her brother Bud +works at the 'Herald' office. She didn't say a word--only looked +and looked and looked--like a crazy woman; then her and Bud went off +together to hunt in the woods. They just tuck hold of each other's hands +like----” + +“That ain't nothin',” Homer Tibbs broke in. “You'd ort to've saw old Miz +Hathaway, that widder woman next door to us, when she heard it. He had +helped her to git her pension; and she tuck on worse 'n' anything I ever +hear--lot worse 'n' when Hathaway died.” + +“I reckon there ain't many crazier than them two Bowlders, father and +son,” said the postmaster, wiping the drops from his beard as he set his +glass on the bar. “They rid into town like a couple of wild Indians, the +old man beatin' that gray mare o' theirn till she was one big welt, and +he ain't natcherly no cruel man, either. I reckon Lige Willetts better +keep out of Hartley's way.” + +“I keep out of no man's way,” cried a voice behind him. Turning, they +saw Lige standing on the threshold of the door that led to the street. +In his hand he held the bridle of the horse he had ridden across the +sidewalk, and that now stood panting, with lowered head, half through +the doorway, beside his master. Lige was hatless, splashed with mud +from head to foot; his jaw was set, his teeth ground together; his eyes +burned under red lids, and his hair lay tossed and damp on his brow. “I +keep out of no man's way,” he repeated, hoarsely. + +“I heard you, Mr. Tibbs, but I've got too much to do, while you loaf +and gas and drink over Lum Landis's bar--I've got other business than +keeping out of Hartley Bowlder's way. I'm looking for John Harkless. He +was the best man we had in this ornery hole, and he was too good for us, +and so we've maybe let him get killed, and maybe I'm to blame. But I'm +going to find him, and if he's hurt--damn _me_! I'm going to have a hand +on the rope that lifts the men that did it, if I have to go to Rouen to +put it there! After that I'll answer for my fault, not before!” + +He threw himself on his horse and was gone. Soon the room was emptied, +as the patrons of the bar returned to the search, and only Mr. Wilkerson +and the landlord remained, the bar being the professional office, so to +speak, of both. + +Wilkerson had a chair in a corner, where he sat chanting a funeral march +in a sepulchral murmur, allowing a parenthetical _hic_ to punctuate the +dirge in place of the drum. Whenever a batch of newcomers entered, +he rose to drink with them; and, at such times, after pouring off his +liquor with a rich melancholy, shedding tears after every swallow, he +would make an exploring tour of the room on his way back to his corner, +stopping to look under each chair inquiringly and ejaculate: “Why, where +kin he be!” Then, shaking his head, he would observe sadly: “Fine +young man, he was, too; fine young man. Pore fellow! I reckon we hain't +a-goin' to git him.” + +At eleven o'clock. Judge Briscoe dropped wearily from his horse at his +own gate, and said to a wan girl who came running down the walk to meet +him: “There is nothing, yet. I sent the telegram to your mother--to Mrs. +Sherwood.” + +Helen turned away without answering. Her face was very white and looked +pinched about the mouth. She went back to where old Fisbee sat on the +porch, his white head held between his two hands; he was rocking himself +to and fro. She touched him gently, but he did not look up. She spoke to +him. + +“There isn't anything--yet. He sent the telegram to mamma. I shall stay +with you, now, no matter what you say.” She sat beside him and put her +head down on his shoulder, and though for a moment he appeared not to +notice it, when Minnie came out on the porch, hearing her father at the +door, the old scholar had put his arm about the girl and was stroking +her fair hair softly. + +Briscoe glanced at them, and raised a warning finger to his daughter, +and they went tiptoeing into the house, where the judge dropped heavily +upon a sofa with an asthmatic sigh; he was worn and tired. Minnie stood +before him with a look of pale inquiry, and he shook his head. + +“No use to tell _them_; but I can't see any hope,” he answered her, +biting nervously at the end of a cigar. “I expect you better bring me +some coffee in here; I couldn't take another step to save me. I'm too +old to tear around the country horseback before breakfast, like I have +to-day.” + +“Did you send her telegram?” Minnie asked, as he drank the coffee she +brought him. She had interpreted “coffee” liberally, and, with the +assistance of Mildy Upton (whose subdued nose was frankly red and who +shed tears on the raspberries), had prepared an appetizing table at his +elbow. + +“Yes,” responded the judge, “and I'm glad she sent it. I talked +the other way yesterday, what little I said--it isn't any of our +business--but I don't think any too much of those people, somehow. She +thinks she belongs with Fisbee, and I guess she's right. That young +fellow must have got along with her pretty well, and I'm afraid when +she gives up she'll be pretty bad over it; but I guess we all will. It's +terribly sudden, somehow, though it's only what everybody half expected +would come; only we thought it would come from over yonder.” He nodded +toward the west. “But she's got to stay here with us. Boarding at Sol +Tibbs's with that old man won't do; and she's no girl to live in two +rooms. You fix it up with her--you make her stay.” + +“She must,” answered his daughter as she knelt beside him and patted his +coat and handed him several things to eat at the same time. “Mr. Fisbee +will help me persuade her, now that she's bound to stay in spite of him +and the Sherwoods, too. I think she is perfectly grand to do it. I've +always thought she was grand--ever since she took me under her wing +at school when I was terribly 'country' and frightened; but she was so +sweet and kind she made me forget. She was the pet of the school, too, +always doing things for the other girls, for everybody; looking out for +people simply heads and heads bigger than herself, and so +recklessly generous and so funny about it; and always thoughtful +and--and--pleasant----” + +Minnie was speaking sadly, mechanically; but suddenly she broke off with +a quick sob, sprang up and went to the window; then, turning, cried out: + +“I don't believe it! He knew how to take care of himself too well. He'd +have got away from them.” + +Her father shook his head. “Then why hasn't he turned up? He'd have gone +home after the storm if something bad wasn't the matter.” + +“But nothing--nothing _that_ bad could have happened. They haven't +found--any--anything.” + +“But why hasn't he come back, child?” + +“Well, he's lying hurt somewhere, that's all.” + +“Then why haven't they found him?” + +“I don't care!” she cried, and choked with the words and tossed her +dishevelled hair from her temples; “it isn't true. Helen won't believe +it--why should I? It's only a few hours since he was right here in our +yard, talking to us all. I won't believe it till they've searched every +stick and stone of Six-Cross-Roads and found him.” + +“It wasn't the Cross-Roads,” said the old gentleman, pushing the table +away and relaxing his limbs on the sofa. “They probably didn't have +anything to do with it. We thought they had at first, but everybody's +about come to believe it was those two devils that he had arrested +yesterday.” + +“Not the Cross-Roads!” echoed Minnie, and she began to tremble +violently. “Haven't they been out there yet?” + +“What use? They are out of it, and they can thank God they are!” + +“They are not!” she cried excitedly. “They did it. It was the +White-Caps. We saw them, Helen and I.” + +The judge got upon his feet with an oath. He had not sworn for years +until that morning. “What's this?” he said sharply. + +“I ought to have told you before, but we were so frightened, and--and +you went off in such a rush after Mr. Wiley was here. I never dreamed +everybody wouldn't know it was the Cross-Roads; that they would _think_ +of any one else. And I looked for the scarecrow as soon as it was light +and it was 'way off from where we saw them, and wasn't blown down at +all, and Helen saw them in the field besides--saw all of them----” + +He interrupted her. “What do you mean? Try to tell me about it quietly, +child.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. + +She told him breathlessly (while he grew more and more visibly perturbed +and uneasy, biting his cigar to pieces and groaning at intervals) what +she and Helen had seen in the storm. When she finished he took a few +quick turns about the room with his hands thrust deep in his coat +pockets, and then, charging her to repeat the story to no one, left the +house, and, forgetting his fatigue, rapidly crossed the fields to the +point where the bizarre figures of the night had shown themselves to the +two girls at the window. + +The soft ground had been trampled by many feet. The boot-prints pointed +to the northeast. He traced them backward to the southwest through the +field, and saw where they had come from near the road, going northeast. +Then, returning, he climbed the fence and followed them northward +through the next field. From there, the next, beyond the road that was +a continuation of Main Street, stretched to the railroad embankment. +The track, raggedly defined in trampled loam and muddy furrow, bent in +a direction which indicated that its terminus might be the switch +where the empty cars had stood last night, waiting for the one-o'clock +freight. Though the fields had been trampled down in many places by +the searching parties, he felt sure of the direction taken by the +Cross-Roads men, and he perceived that the searchers had mistaken the +tracks he followed for those of earlier parties in the hunt. On the +embankment he saw a number of men, walking west and examining the ground +on each side, and a long line of people following them out from town. He +stopped. He held the fate of Six-Cross-Roads in his hand and he knew it. + +He knew that if he spoke, his evidence would damn the Cross-Roads, +and that it meant that more than the White-Caps would be hurt, for the +Cross-Roads would fight. If he had believed that the dissemination of +his knowledge could have helped Harkless, he would have called to the +men near him at once; but he had no hope that the young man was alive. +They would not have dragged him out to their shanties wounded, or as +a prisoner; such a proceeding would have courted detection, and, also, +they were not that kind; they had been “looking for him” a long time, +and their one idea was to kill him. + +And Harkless, for all his gentleness, was the sort of man, Briscoe +believed, who would have to be killed before he could be touched. Of one +thing the old gentleman was sure; the editor had not been tied up and +whipped while yet alive. In spite of his easy manners and geniality, +there was a dignity in him that would have made him kill and be killed +before the dirty fingers of a Cross-Roads “White-Cap” could have been +laid upon him in chastisement. A great many good Americans of Carlow who +knew him well always Mistered him as they would have Mistered only an +untitled Morton or Hendricks who might have lived amongst them. He +was the only man the old darky, Uncle Xenophon, had ever addressed as +“Marse” since he came to Plattville, thirty years ago. + +Briscoe considered it probable that a few people were wearing bandages, +in the closed shanties over to the west to-day. A thought of the number +they had brought against one man; a picture of the unequal struggle, of +the young fellow he had liked so well, unarmed and fighting hopelessly +in a trap, and a sense of the cruelty of it, made the hot anger surge +up in his breast, and he started on again. Then he stopped once more. +Though long retired from faithful service on the bench, he had been all +his life a serious exponent of the law, and what he went to tell meant +lawlessness that no one could hope to check. He knew the temper of the +people; their long suffering was at an end, and they would go over at +last and wipe out the Cross-Roads. It depended on him. If the mob could +be held off over to-day, if men's minds could cool over night, the +law could strike and the innocent and the hotheaded be spared from +suffering. He would wait; he would lay his information before the +sheriff; and Horner would go quietly with a strong posse, for he would +need a strong one. He began to retrace his steps. + +The men on the embankment were walking slowly, bending far over, their +eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly one of them stood erect and tossed +his arms in the air and shouted loudly. Other men ran to him, and +another far down the track repeated the shout and the gesture to another +far in his rear; this man took it up, and shouted and waved to a fourth +man, and so they passed the signal back to town. There came, almost +immediately three long, loud whistles from a mill near the station, and +the embankment grew black with people pouring out from town, while the +searchers came running from the fields and woods and underbrush on both +sides of the railway. + +Briscoe paused for the last time; then he began to walk slowly toward +the embankment. + +The track lay level and straight, not dimming in the middle distances, +the rails converging to points, both northwest and southeast, in +the clean-washed air, like examples of perspective in a child's +drawing-book. About seventy miles to the west and north lay Rouen; and, +in the same direction, nearly six miles from where the signal was +given, the track was crossed by a road leading directly south to +Six-Cross-Roads. + +The embankment had been newly ballasted with sand. What had been +discovered was a broad brown stain on the south slope near the top. +There were smaller stains above and below; none beyond it to left or +right; and there were deep boot-prints in the sand. Men were examining +the place excitedly, talking and gesticulating. It was Lige Willetts who +had found it. His horse was tethered to a fence near by, at the end of +a lane through a cornfield. Jared Wiley, the deputy, was talking to a +group near the stain, explaining. + +“You see them two must have knowed about the one-o'clock freight, and +that it was to stop here to take on the empty lumber cars. I don't know +how they knowed it, but they did. It was this way: when they dropped +from the window, they beat through the storm, straight for this +side-track. At the same time Mr. Harkless leaves Briscoes' goin' +west. It begins to rain. He cuts across to the railroad to have a sure +footing, and strikin' for the deepo for shelter--near place as any +except Briscoes' where he'd said good-night already and prob'ly don't +wish to go back, 'fear of givin' trouble or keepin' 'em up--anybody can +understand that. He comes along, and gets to where we are precisely at +the time _they_ do, them comin' from town, him strikin' for it. They run +right into each other. That's what happened. They re-_cog_-nized him and +raised up on him and let him have it. What they done it with, I don't +know; we took everything in that line off of 'em; prob'ly used railroad +iron; and what they done with him afterwards we don't know; but we will +by night. They'll sweat it out of 'em up at Rouen when they get 'em.” + +“I reckon maybe some of us might help,” remarked Mr. Watts, +reflectively. + +Jim Bardlock swore a violent oath. “That's the talk!” he shouted. “Ef I +ain't the first man of this crowd to set my foot in Roowun, an' first to +beat in that jail door, an' take 'em out an' hang 'em by the neck till +they're dead, dead, dead, I'm not Town Marshal of Plattville, County of +Carlow, State of Indiana, and the Lord have mercy on our souls!” + +Tom Martin looked at the brown stain and quickly turned away; then he +went back slowly to the village. On the way he passed Warren Smith. + +“Is it so?” asked the lawyer. + +Martin answered with a dry throat. He looked out dimly over the sunlit +fields, and swallowed once or twice. “Yes, it's so. There's a good deal +of it there. Little more than a boy he was.” The old fellow passed his +seamy hand over his eyes without concealment. “Peter ain't very bright, +sometimes, it seems to me,” he added, brokenly; “overlook Bodeffer and +Fisbee and me and all of us old husks, and--and--” he gulped suddenly, +then finished--“and act the fool and take a boy that's the best we had. +I wish the Almighty would take Peter off the gate; he ain't fit fer it.” + +When the attorney reached the spot where the crowd was thickest, way +was made for him. The old colored man, Xenophon, approached at the +same time, leaning on a hickory stick and bent very far over, one hand +resting on his hip as if to ease a rusty joint. The negro's age was +an incentive to fable; from his appearance he might have known the +prophets, and he wore that hoary look of unearthly wisdom many decades +of superstitious experience sometimes give to members of his race. +His face, so tortured with wrinkles that it might have been made of +innumerable black threads woven together, was a living mask of the +mystery of his blood. Harkless had once said that Uncle Xenophon had +visited heaven before Swedenborg and hell before Dante. To-day, as he +slowly limped over the ties, his eyes were bright and dry under the +solemn lids, and, though his heavy nostrils were unusually distended in +the effort for regular breathing, the deeply puckered lips beneath them +were set firmly. + +He stopped and looked at the faces before him. When he spoke his voice +was gentle, and though the tremulousness of age harped on the vocal +strings, it was rigidly controlled. “Kin some kine gelmun,” he asked, +“please t'be so good ez t' show de ole main whuh de W'ite-Caips is done +shoot Marse Hawkliss?” + +“Here was where it happened, Uncle Zen,” answered Wiley, leaning him +forward. “Here is the stain.” + +Xenophon bent over the spot on the sand, making little odd noises in his +throat. Then he painfully resumed his former position. “Dass his blood,” + he said, in the same gentle, quavering tone. “Dass my bes' frien' whut +lay on de groun' whuh yo staind, gelmun.” + +There was a pause, and no one spoke. + +“Dass whuh day laid 'im an' dass whuh he lie,” the old negro continued. +“Dey shot 'im in de fiels. Dey ain' shot 'im hear-yondeh dey drugged +'im, but dis whuh he lie.” He bent over again, then knelt, groaningly, +and placed his hand on the stain, one would have said, as a man might +place his hand over a heart to see if it still beat. He was motionless, +with the air of hearkening. + +“Marse, honey, is you gone?” He raised his voice as if calling, “Is you +gone, suh?--Marse?” + +He looked up at the circle about him, and, still kneeling, not taking +his hand from the sand, seeming to wait for a sign, to listen for a +voice, he said: “Whafo' you gelmun think de good Lawd summon Marse +Hawkliss? Kaze he de mos' fittes'? You know dat man he ketch me in de +cole night, wintuh 'to' lais', stealin' 'is wood. You know whut he done +t'de ole thief? Tek an' bull' up big fiah een ole Zen' shainty; say, +'He'p yo'se'f an' welcome. Reckon you hongry, too, ain' you, Xenophon?' +Tek an' feed me. Tek an' tek keer o' me ev' since. Ah pump de baith full +in de mawin'; mek 'is bed; pull de weeds out'n of de front walk--dass +all. He tek me in. When Ah aisk 'im ain' he fraid keep ole thief he say, +jesso: 'Dass all my fault, Xenophon; ought look you up long 'go; ought +know long 'go you be cole dese baid nights. Reckon Ahm de thievenest one +us two, Xenophon, keepin' all dis wood stock' up when you got none,' he +say, jesso. Tek me in; say he _lahk_ a thief. Pay me sala'y. Feed me. +Dass de main whut de Caips gone shot lais' night.” He raised his head +sharply, and the mystery in his gloomy eyes intensified as they opened +wide and stared at the sky, unseeingly. + +“Ise bawn wid a cawl!” he exclaimed, loudly. His twisted frame was +braced to an extreme tension. “Ise bawn wid a cawl! De blood anssuh!” + +“It wasn't the Cross-Roads, Uncle Xenophon,” said Warren Smith, laying +his hand on the old man's shoulder. + +Xenophon rose to his feet. He stretched a long, bony arm straight to the +west, where the Cross-Roads lay; stood rigid and silent, like a seer; +then spoke: + +“De men whut shot Marse Hawkliss lies yondeh, hidin' f'um de light o' +day. An' _him_”--he swerved his whole rigid body till the arm pointed +northwest--“he lies yondeh. You won't find him heah. Dey fought 'im een +de fiel's an' dey druggen 'im heah. Dis whim dey lay 'im down. Ise bawn +wid a cawl!” + +There were exclamations from the listeners, for Xenophon spoke as one +having authority. Suddenly he turned and pointed his outstretched hand +full at Judge Briscoe. + +“An' dass de main,” he cried, “dass de main kin tell you Ah speak de +trufe.” + +Before he was answered, Eph Watts looked at Briscoe keenly and then +turned to Lige Willetts and whispered: “Get on your horse, ride in, and +ring the court-house bell like the devil. Do as I say!” + +Tears stood in the judge's eyes. “It is so,” he said, solemnly. “He +speaks the truth. I didn't mean to tell it to-day, but somehow--” He +paused. “The hounds!” he cried. “They deserve it! My daughter saw them +crossing the fields in the night--saw them climb the fence, hoods, +gowns, and all, a big crowd of them. She and the lady who is visiting +us saw them, saw them plainly. The lady saw them several times, clear as +day, by the flashes of lightning--the scoundrels were coming this way. +They must have been dragging him with them then. He couldn't have had a +show for his life amongst them. Do what you like--maybe they've got him +at the Cross-Roads. If there's a chance of it--dead or alive--bring him +back!” + +A voice rang out above the clamor that followed the judge's speech. + +“'Bring him back!' God could, maybe, but He won't. Who's travelling +my way? I go west!” Hartley Bowlder had ridden his sorrel up the +embankment, and the horse stood between the rails. There was an angry +roar from the crowd; the prosecutor pleaded and threatened unheeded; and +as for the deputy sheriff, he declared his intention of taking with him +all who wished to go as his posse. Eph Watts succeeded in making himself +heard above the tumult. + +“The Square!” he shouted. “Start from the Square. We want everybody, and +we'll need them. We want every one in Carlow to be implicated in this +posse.” + +“They will be!” shouted a farmer. “Don't you worry about that.” + +“We want to get into some sort of shape,” cried Eph. + +“Shape, hell!” said Hartley Bowlder. + +There was a hiss and clang and rattle behind him, and a steam whistle +shrieked. The crowd divided, and Hartley's sorrel jumped just in time as +the westbound accommodation rushed through on its way to Rouen. From the +rear platform leaned the sheriff, Horner, waving his hands frantically +as he flew by, but no one understood--or cared--what he said, or, in the +general excitement, even wondered why he was leaving the scene of +his duty at such a time. When the train had dwindled to a dot and +disappeared, and the noise of its rush grew faint, the court-house bell +was heard ringing, and the mob was piling pell-mell into the village to +form on the Square. The judge stood alone on the embankment. + +“That settles it,” he said aloud, gloomily, watching the last figures. +He took off his hat and pushed back the thick, white hair from his +forehead. “Nothing to do but wait. Might as well go home for that. Blast +it!” he exclaimed, impatiently. “I don't want to go there. It's too hard +on the little girl. If she hadn't come till next week she'd never have +known John Harkless.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. JOHN BROWN'S BODY + +All morning horsemen had been galloping through Six-Cross-Roads, +sometimes singly, oftener in company. At one-o'clock the last posse +passed through on its return to the county-seat, and after that there +was a long, complete silence, while the miry corners were undisturbed by +a single hoof-beat. No unkempt colt nickered from his musty stall; the +sparse young corn that was used to rasp and chuckle greenly stood rigid +in the fields. Up the Plattville pike despairingly cackled one old +hen, with her wabbling sailor run, smit with a superstitious horror of +nothing, in the stillness; she hid herself in the shadow underneath a +rickety barn, and her shrieking ceased. + +Only on the Wimby farm were there signs of life. The old lady who had +sent Harkless roses sat by the window all morning and wiped her eyes, +watching the horsemen ride by; sometimes they would hail her and tell +her there was nothing yet. About two-o'clock, her husband rattled up +in a buckboard, and got out the late, and more authentic, Mr. Wimby's +shot-gun, which he carefully cleaned and oiled, in spite of its +hammerless and quite useless condition, sitting, meanwhile, by the +window opposite his wife, and often looking up from his work to shake +his weak fist at his neighbors' domiciles and creak decrepit curses and +denunciations. + +But the Cross-Roads was ready. It knew what was coming now. Frightened, +desperate, sullen, it was ready. + +The afternoon wore on, and lengthening shadows fell upon a peaceful--one +would have said, a sleeping--country. The sun-dried pike, already dusty, +stretched its serene length between green borders flecked with purple +and yellow and white weedflowers; and the tree shadows were not shade, +but warm blue and lavender glows in the general pervasion of still, +bright light, the sky curving its deep, unburnished, penetrable blue +over all, with no single drift of fleece upon it to be reflected in +the creek that wound along past willow and sycamore. A woodpecker's +telegraphy broke the quiet like a volley of pistol shots. + +But far eastward on the pike there slowly developed a soft, white haze. +It grew denser and larger. Gradually it rolled nearer. Dimly behind it +could be discerned a darker, moving nucleus that extended far back upon +the road. A heavy tremor began to stir the air--faint manifold sounds, a +waxing, increasing, multitudinous rumor. + +The pike ascended a long, slight slope leading west up to the +Cross-Roads. From a thicket of iron-weed at the foot of this slope was +thrust the hard, lean visage of an undersized girl of fourteen. Her +fierce eyes examined the approaching cloud of dust intently. A redness +rose under the burnt yellow skin and colored the wizened cheeks. + +They were coming. + +She stepped quickly out of the tangle, and darted up the road, running +with the speed of a fleet little terrier, not opening her lips, not +calling out, but holding her two thin hands high above her head. +That was all. But Birnam wood was come to Dunsinane at last, and the +messenger sped. Out of the weeds in the corners of the snake fence, +in the upper part of the rise, silently lifted the heads of men whose +sallowness became a sickish white as the child flew by. + +The mob was carefully organized. They had taken their time and had +prepared everything deliberately, knowing that nothing could stop them. +No one had any thought of concealment; it was all as open as the light +of day, all done in the broad sunshine. Nothing had been determined as +to what was to be done at the Cross-Roads more definite than that the +place was to be wiped out. That was comprehensive enough; the details +were quite certain to occur. They were all on foot, marching in fairly +regular ranks. In front walked Mr. Watts, the man Harkless had abhorred +in a public spirit and befriended in private--to-day he was a hero and +a leader, marching to avenge his professional oppressor and personal +brother. Cool, unruffled, and, to outward vision, unarmed, marching the +miles in his brown frock coat and generous linen, his carefully creased +trousers neatly turned up out of the dust, he led the way. On one side +of him were the two Bowlders, on the other was Lige Willetts, Mr. +Watts preserving peace between the two young men with perfect tact and +sang-froid. + +They kept good order and a similitude of quiet for so many, except +far to the rear, where old Wilkerson was bringing up the tail of the +procession, dragging a wretched yellow dog by a slip-noose fastened +around the poor cur's protesting neck, the knot carefully arranged under +his right ear. In spite of every command and protest, Wilkerson had +marched the whole way uproariously singing, “John Brown's Body.” + +The sun was in the west when they came in sight of the Cross-Roads, and +the cabins on the low slope stood out angularly against the radiance +beyond. As they beheld the hated settlement, the heretofore orderly +ranks showed a disposition to depart from the steady advance and rush +the shanties. Willetts, the Bowlders, Parker, Ross, Schofield, and fifty +others did, in fact, break away and set a sharp pace up the slope. + +Watts tried to call them back. “What's the use your gettin' killed?” he +shouted. + +“Why not?” answered Lige, who, like the others, was increasing his speed +when old “Wimby” rose up suddenly from the roadside ahead of them, and +motioned them frantically to go back. “They're laid out along the fence, +waitin' fer ye,” he warned them. “Git out the road. Come by the fields. +Per the Lord's sake, spread!” Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he +dropped down into the weeds again. Lige and those with him paused, and +the whole body came to a halt while the leaders consulted. There was a +sound of metallic clicking and a thin rattle of steel. From far to the +rear came the voice of old Wilkerson: + + “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground--” + +A few near him, as they stood waiting, began to take up the burden of +the song, singing in slow time like a dirge; then those further away +took it up; it spread, reached the leaders; they, too, began to sing, +taking off their hats as they joined in; and soon the whole concourse, +solemn, earnest, and uncovered, was singing--a thunderous requiem for +John Harkless. + +The sun was swinging lower and the edges of the world were embroidered +with gold while that deep volume of sound shook the air, the song of a +stern, savage, just cause--sung, perhaps, as some of the ancestors of +these men sang with Hampden before the bristling walls of a hostile +city. It had iron and steel in it. The men lying on their guns in the +ambuscade along the fence heard the dirge rise and grow to its mighty +fulness, and they shivered. One of them, posted nearest the advance, +had his rifle carefully levelled at Lige Willetts, a fair target in the +road. When he heard the singing, he turned to the man next behind +him and laughed harshly: “I reckon we'll see a big jamboree in hell +to-night, huh?” + +The huge murmur of the chorus expanded, and gathered in rhythmic +strength, and swelled to power, and rolled and thundered across the +plain. + + “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + His soul goes marching on! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + His soul goes marching on!” + +A gun spat from the higher ground, and Willetts dropped where he stood, +but was up again in a second, with a red line across his forehead where +the ball had grazed his temple. Then the mob spread out like a fan, +hundreds of men climbing the fence and beginning the advance through +the fields, dosing on the ambuscade from both sides. Mr. Watts, wading +through the high grass in the field north of the road, perceived the +barrel of a gun shining from a bush some distance in front of him, and, +although in the same second no weapon was seen in his hand, discharged a +revolver at the bush behind the gun. Instantly ten or twelve men leaped +from their hiding-places along the fences of both fields, and, firing +hurriedly and harmlessly into the scattered ranks of the oncoming mob, +broke for the shelter of the houses, where their fellows were posted. +Taken on the flanks and from the rear, there was but one thing for +them to do to keep from being hemmed in and shot or captured. (They +excessively preferred being shot.) With a wild, high, joyous yell, +sounding like the bay of young hounds breaking into view of their +quarry, the Plattville men followed. + +The most eastward of the debilitated edifices of Six-Cross-Roads was the +saloon, which bore the painted legends: on the west wall, “Last Chance”; +on the east wall, “First Chance.” Next to this, and separated by two +or three acres of weedy vacancy from the corners where the population +centred thickest, stood-if one may so predicate of a building which +leaned in seven directions-the house of Mr. Robert Skillett, the +proprietor of the saloon. Both buildings were shut up as tight as their +state of repair permitted. As they were furthest to the east, they +formed the nearest shelter, and to them the Cross-Roaders bent their +flight, though they stopped not here, but disappeared behind Skillett's +shanty, putting it between them and their pursuers, whose guns were +beginning to speak. The fugitives had a good start, and, being the +picked runners of the Cross-Roads, they crossed the open, weedy acres in +safety and made for their homes. Every house had become a fort, and the +defenders would have to be fought and torn out one by one. As the guns +sounded, a woman in a shanty near the forge began to scream, and kept on +screaming. + +On came the farmers and the men of Plattville. They took the saloon at a +run; battered down the crazy doors with a fence-rail, and swarmed inside +like busy insects, making the place hum like a hive, but with the hotter +industries of destruction. It was empty of life as a tomb, but they beat +and tore and battered and broke and hammered and shattered like madmen; +they reduced the tawdry interior to a mere chaos, and came pouring forth +laden with trophies of ruin. And then there was a charry smell in the +air, and a slender feather of smoke floated up from a second-story +window. + +At the same time Watts led an assault on the adjoining house--an assault +which came to a sudden pause, for, from cracks in the front wall, a +squirrel-rifle and a shot-gun snapped and banged, and the crowd fell +back in disorder. Homer Tibbs had a hat blown away, full of buck-shot +holes, while Mr. Watts solicitously examined a small aperture in the +skirts of his brown coat. The house commanded the road, and the rush of +the mob into the village was checked, but only for the instant. + +A rickety woodshed, which formed a portion of the Skillett mansion, +closely joined the “Last Chance” side of the family place of business. +Scarcely had the guns of the defenders sounded, when, with a loud shout, +Lige Willetts leaped from an upper window on that side of the burning +saloon and landed on the woodshed, and, immediately climbing the roof +of the house itself, applied a fiery brand to the time-worn clapboards. +Ross Schofield dropped on the shed, close behind him, his arm lovingly +enfolding a gallon jug of whiskey, which he emptied (not without evident +regret) upon the clapboards as Lige fired them. Flames burst forth +almost instantly, and the smoke, uniting with that now rolling out +of every window of the saloon, went up to heaven in a cumbrous, gray +column. + +As the flames began to spread, there was a rapid fusillade from the rear +of the house, and a hundred men and more, who had kept on through the +fields to the north, assailed it from behind. Their shots passed clear +through the flimsy partitions, and there was a horrid screeching, like a +beast's howls, from within. The front door was thrown open, and a lean, +fierce-eyed girl, with a case-knife in her hand, ran out in the face of +the mob. At sound of the shots in the rear they had begun to advance on +the house a second time, and Hartley Bowlder was the nearest man to the +girl. With awful words, and shrieking inconceivably, she made straight +at Hartley, and attacked him with the knife. She struck at him again +and again, and, in her anguish of hate and fear, was so extraordinary +a spectacle that she gained for her companions the four or five seconds +they needed to escape from the house. As she hurled herself alone at +the oncoming torrent, they sped from the door unnoticed, sprang over the +fence, and reached the open lots to the west before they were seen by +Willetts from the roof. + +“Don't let 'em fool you!” he shouted. “Look to I your left! There they +go! Don't let 'em get away.” + +The Cross-Readers were running across the field. They were Bob Skillett +and his younger brother, and Mr. Skillett was badly damaged: he seemed +to be holding his jaw on his face with both hands. The girl turned, and +sped after them. She was over the fence almost as soon as they were, +and the three ran in single file, the girl last. She was either +magnificently sacrificial and fearless, or she cunningly calculated that +the regulators would take no chances of killing a woman-child, for she +kept between their guns and her two companions, trying to cover and +shield the latter with her frail body. + +“Shoot, Lige,” called Watts. “If we fire from here we'll hit the girl. +Shoot!” + +Willetts and Ross Schofield were still standing on the roof, at the +edge, out of the smoke, and both fired at the same time. The fugitives +did not turn; they kept on running, and they had nearly reached the +other side of the field, when suddenly, without any premonitory gesture, +the elder Skillett dropped flat on his face. The Cross-Roaders stood by +each other that day, for four or five men ran out of the nearest shanty +into the open, lifted the prostrate figure from the ground, and began +to carry it back with them. But Mr. Skillett was alive; his curses were +heard above all other sounds. Lige and Schofield fired again, and one of +the rescuers staggered. Nevertheless, as the two men slid down from the +roof, the burdened Cross-Readers were seen to break into a run; and at +that, with another yell, fiercer, wilder, more joyous than the first, +the Plattville men followed. + +The yell rang loudly in the ears of old Wilkerson, who had remained back +in the road, and at the same instant he heard another shout behind him. +Mr. Wilkerson had not shared in the attack, but, greatly preoccupied +with his own histrionic affairs, was proceeding up the pike +alone--except for the unhappy yellow mongrel, still dragged along by the +slip-noose--and alternating, as was his natural wont, from one fence to +the other; crouching behind every bush to fire an imaginary rifle at his +dog, and then springing out, with triumphant bellowings, to fall prone +upon the terrified animal. It was after one of these victories that a +shout of warning was raised behind him, and Mr. Wilkerson, by grace of +the god Bacchus, rolling out of the way in time to save his life, saw +a horse dash by him--a big, black horse whose polished flanks were +dripping with lather. Warren Smith was the rider. He was waving a slip +of yellow paper high in the air. + +He rode up the slope, and drew rein beyond the burning buildings, just +ahead of those foremost in the pursuit. He threw his horse across the +road to oppose their progress, rose in his stirrups, and waved the paper +over his head. “Stop!” he roared, “Give me one minute. Stop!” He had a +grand voice; and he was known in many parts of the State for the great +bass roar with which he startled his juries. To be heard at a distance +most men lift the pitch of their voices; Smith lowered his an octave +or two, and the result was like an earthquake playing an organ in a +catacomb. + +“Stop!” he thundered. “Stop!” + +In answer, one of the flying Cross-Roaders turned and sent a bullet +whistling close to him. The lawyer paused long enough to bow deeply in +satirical response; then, flourishing the paper, he roared again: “Stop! +A mistake! I have news! Stop, I say! Homer has got them!” + +To make himself heard over that tempestuous advance was a feat; for him, +moreover, whose counsels had so lately been derided, to interest the +pursuers at such a moment enough to make them listen--to find the +word--was a greater; and by the word, and by gestures at once vehemently +imperious and imploring, to stop them was still greater; but he did it. +He had come at just the moment before the moment that would have been +too late. They all heard him. They all knew, too, he was not trying to +save the Cross-Roads as a matter of duty, because he had given that up +before the mob left Plattville. Indeed, it was a question if, at the +last, he had not tacitly approved; and no one feared indictments for +the day's work. It would do no harm to listen to what he had to say. The +work could wait; it would “keep” for five minutes. They began to gather +around him, excited, flushed, perspiring, and smelling of smoke. Hartley +Bowlder, won by Lige's desperation and intrepidity, was helping the +latter tie up his head; no one else was hurt. + +“What is it?” they clamored impatiently. “Speak quick!” There was +another harmless shot from a fugitive, and then the Cross-Roaders, +divining that the diversion was in their favor, secured themselves in +their decrepit fastnesses and held their fire. Meanwhile, the flames +crackled cheerfully in Plattville ears. No matter what the prosecutor +had to say, at least the Skillett saloon and homestead were gone, and +Bob Skillett and one other would be sick enough to be good for a while. + +“Listen,” cried Warren Smith, and, rising in his stirrups again, read +the missive in his hand, a Western Union telegraph form. “Warren Smith, +Plattville,” was the direction. “Found both shell-men. Police familiar +with both, and both wanted here. One arrested at noon in a second-hand +clothes store, wearing Harkless's hat, also trying dispose torn +full-dress coat known to have been worn by Harkless last night. Stains +on lining believed blood. Second man found later at freight-yards in +empty lumber car left Plattville 1 P.M., badly hurt, shot, and +bruised. Supposed Harkless made hard fight. Hurt man taken to hospital +unconscious. Will die. Hope able question him first and discover +whereabouts body. Other man refuses talk so far. Check any movement +Cross-Roads. This clears Skillett, etc. Come over on 9.15.” + +The telegram was signed by Homer and by Barrett, the superintendent of +police at Rouen. + +“It's all a mistake, boys,” the lawyer said, as he handed the paper +to Watts and Parker for inspection. “The ladies at the judge's +were mistaken, that's all, and this proves it. It's easy enough to +understand: they were frightened by the storm, and, watching a fence +a quarter-mile away by flashes of lightning, any one would have been +confused, and imagined all the horrors on earth. I don't deny but what I +believed it for a while, and I don't deny but the Cross-Roads is pretty +tough, but you've done a good deal here already, to-day, and we're +saved in time from a mistake that would have turned out mighty bad. This +settles it. Homer got a wire from Rouen to come over there, soon as +they got track of the first man; that was when we saw him on the Rouen +accommodation.” + +A slightly cracked voice, yet a huskily tuneful one, was lifted +quaveringly on the air from the roadside, where an old man and a yellow +dog sat in the dust together, the latter reprieved at the last moment, +his surprised head rakishly garnished with a hasty wreath of dog-fennel +daisies. + + “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + While we go marching on!” + +Three-quarters of an hour later, the inhabitants of the Cross-Roads, +saved, they knew not how; guilty; knowing nothing of the fantastic +pendulum of opinion, which, swung by the events of the day, had marked +the fatal moment of guilt, now on others, now on them, who deserved +it--these natives and refugees, conscious of atrocity, dumfounded by a +miracle, thinking the world gone mad, hovered together in a dark, ragged +mass at the crossing corners, while the skeleton of the rotting buggy +in the slough rose behind them against the face of the west. They peered +with stupified eyes through the smoky twilight. + +From afar, faintly through the gloaming, came mournfully to their ears +the many-voiced refrain--fainter, fainter: + + “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground. + John Brown's body lies--mould-- + ..... we go march.... on.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII. JERRY THE TELLER At midnight a small brougham stopped at +the gates of the city hospital in Rouen. A short distance ahead, the +lamps of a cab, drawn up at the curbing, made two dull orange sparks +under the electric light swinging over the street. A cigarette described +a brief parabola as it was tossed from the brougham, and a short young +man jumped out and entered the gates, then paused and spoke to the +driver of the cab. + +“Did you bring Mr. Barrett here?” + +“Yes, sir,” answered the driver; “him and two other gentlemen.” + +Lighting another cigarette, from which he drew but two inspirations +before he threw it away, the young man proceeded quickly up the walk. +As he ascended the short flight of steps which led to the main doors, +he panted a little, in a way which suggested that (although his +white waistcoat outlined an ellipse still respectable) a crescendo of +portliness was playing diminuendo with his youth. And, though his +walk was brisk, it was not lively. The expression of his very red face +indicated that his briskness was spurred by anxiety, and a fattish groan +he emitted on the top step added the impression that his comfortable +body protested against the mental spur. In the hall he removed his +narrow-brimmed straw hat and presented a rotund and amiable head, +from the top of which his auburn hair seemed to retire with a sense of +defeat; it fell back, however, not in confusion, but in perfect order, +and the sparse pink mist left upon his crown gave, by a supreme effort, +an effect of arrangement, so that an imaginative observer would have +declared that there was a part down the middle. The gentleman's plump +face bore a grave and troubled expression, and gravity and trouble were +patent in all the lines of his figure and in every gesture; in the way +he turned his head; in the uneasy shifting of his hat from one hand to +the other and in his fanning himself with it in a nervous fashion; +and in his small, blue eyes, which did not twinkle behind his rimless +glasses and looked unused to not twinkling. His gravity clothed him +like an ill-fitting coat; or, possibly, he might have reminded the +imaginative observer, just now conjured up, of a music-box set to +turning its cylinder backwards. + +He spoke to an attendant, and was directed to an office, which he +entered without delay. There were five men in the room, three of them +engaged in conversation near the door; another, a young surgeon, was +writing at a desk; the fifth drowsily nodding on a sofa. The newcomer +bowed as he entered. + +“Mr. Barrett?” he said inquiringly. + +One of the men near the door turned about. “Yes, sir,” he answered, with +a stem disfavor of the applicant; a disfavor possibly a perquisite of +his office. “What's wanted?” + +“I think I have met you,” returned the other. “My name is Meredith.” + +Mr. Barrett probably did not locate the meeting, but the name proved +an open sesame to his geniality, for he melted at once, and saying: “Of +course, of course, Mr. Meredith; did you want a talk with me?” clasped +the young man's hand confidentially in his, and, with an appearance +of assuring him that whatever the atrocity which had occurred in the +Meredith household it should be discreetly handled and hushed up, +indicated a disposition to conduct him toward a more appropriate +apartment for the rehearsal of scandal. The young man accepted the +hand-clasp with some resignation, but rejected the suggestion of +privacy. + +“A telegram from Plattville reached me half an hour ago,” he said. “I +should have had it sooner, but I have been in the country all day.” + +The two men who had been talking with the superintendent turned quickly, +and stared at the speaker. He went on: “Mr. Harkless was an old--and--” + He broke off, with a sudden, sharp choking, and for a moment was unable +to control an emotion that seemed, for some reason, as surprising and +unbefitting, in a person of his rubicund presence, as was his gravity. +An astonished tear glittered in the corner of his eye. The grief of +the gayer sorts of stout people appears, sometimes, to dumfound even +themselves. The young man took off his glasses and wiped them slowly. +“--An old and very dear friend of mine.” He replaced the glasses +insecurely upon his nose. “I telephoned to your headquarters, and they +said you had come here.” + +“Yes, sir; yes, sir,” the superintendent of police responded, +cheerfully. “These two gentlemen are from Plattville; Mr. Smith just +got in. They mighty near had big trouble down there to-day, but I guess +we'll settle things for 'em up here. Let me make you acquainted with my +friend, Mr. Smith, and my friend, Mr. Homer. Gentlemen, my friend, Mr. +Meredith, one of our well-known citizens.” + +“You hear it from the police, gentlemen,” added Mr. Meredith, perking up +a little. “I know Dr. Gay.” He nodded to the surgeon. + +“I suppose you have heard some of the circumstances--those that we've +given out,” said Barrett. + +“I read the account in the evening paper. I had heard of Harkless, of +Carlow, before; but it never occurred to me that it was my friend--I had +heard he was abroad--until I got this telegram from a relative of mine +who happened to be down there.” + +“Well,” said the superintendent, “your friend made a mighty good fight +before he gave up. The Teller, that's the man we've got out here, he's +so hacked up and shot and battered his mother wouldn't know him, if she +wanted to; at least, that's what Gay, here, says. We haven't seen him, +because the doctors have been at him ever since he was found, and they +expect to do some more tonight, when we've had our interview with +him, if he lives long enough. One of my sergeants found him in, the +freight-yards about four-o'clock and sent him here in the ambulance; +knew it was Teller, because he was stowed away in one of the empty cars +that came from Plattville last night, and Slattery--that's his running +mate, the one we caught with the coat and hat--gave in that they beat +their way on that freight. I guess Slattery let this one do most of the +fighting; he ain't scratched; but Mr. Harkless certainly made it hot for +the Teller.” + +“My relative believes that Mr. Harkless is still alive,” said Meredith. + +Mr. Barrett permitted himself an indulgent smile. He had the air of +having long ago discovered everything which anybody might wish to know, +and of knowing a great deal which he held in reserve because it was +necessary to suppress many facts for a purpose far beyond his auditor's +comprehension, though a very simple matter to himself. + +“Well, hardly, I expect,” he replied, easily. “No; he's hardly alive.” + +“Oh, don't say that,” said Meredith. + +“I'm afraid Mr. Barrett has to say it,” broke in Warren Smith. “We're up +here to see this fellow before he dies, to try and get him to tell what +disposal they made of the----” + +“Ah!” Meredith shivered. “I believe I'd rather he said the other than to +hear you say that.” + +Mr. Horner felt the need of defending a fellow-townsman, and came to the +rescue, flushing painfully. “It's mighty bad, I know,” said the sheriff +of Carlow, the shadows of his honest, rough face falling in a solemn +pattern; “I reckon we hate to say it as much as you hate to hear it; +and Warren really didn't get the word out. It's stuck in our throats all +day; and I don't recollect as I heard a single man say it before I +left our city this morning. Our folks thought a great deal of him, Mr. +Meredith; I don't believe there's any thinks more. But it's come to that +now; you can't hardly see no chance left. We be'n sweating this other +man, Slattery, but we can't break him down. Jest tells us to go to”--the +sheriff paused, evidently deterred by the thought that swear-words were +unbefitting a hospital--“to the other place, and shets his jaw up tight. +The one up here is called the Teller, as Mr. Barrett says; his name's +Jerry the Teller. Well, we told Slattery that Jerry had died and left a +confession; tried to make him think there wasn't no hope fer him, and he +might as well up and tell his share; might git off easier; warned him to +look out for a mob if he didn't, maybe, and so on, but it never bothered +him at all. He's nervy, all right. Told us to go--that is, he said it +again--and swore the Teller was on his way to Chicago, swore he seen him +git on the train. Wouldn't say another word tell he got a lawyer. So, +'soon as it was any use, we come up here--they reckon he'll come to +before he dies. We'll be glad to have you go in with us,” Horner said +kindly. “I reckon it's all the same to Mr. Barrett.” + +“He will die, will he, Gay?” Meredith asked, turning to the surgeon. + +“Oh, not necessarily,” the young man replied, yawning slightly behind +his hand, and too long accustomed to straightforward questions to be +shocked at an evident wish for a direct reply. “His chances are better, +because they'll hang him if he gets well. They took the ball and a good +deal of shot out of his side, and there's a lot more for afterwhile, if +he lasts. He's been off the table an hour, and he's still going.” + +“That's in his favor, isn't it?” said Meredith. “And extraordinary, +too?” If young Dr. Gay perceived a slur in these interrogations he +betrayed no exterior appreciation of it. + +“Shot!” exclaimed Homer. “Shot! I knowed there'd be'n a pistol used, +though where they got it beats me--we stripped 'em--and it wasn't Mr. +Harkless's; he never carried one. But a shot-gun!” + +An attendant entered and spoke to the surgeon, and Gay rose wearily, +touched the drowsy young man on the shoulder, and led the way to the +door. “You can come now,” he said to the others; “though I doubt its +being any good to you. He's delirious.” + +They went down a long hall and up a narrow corridor, then stepped softly +into a small, quiet ward. + +There was a pungent smell of chemicals in the room; the light was low, +and the dimness was imbued with a thick, confused murmur, incoherent +whisperings that came from a cot in the corner. It was the only cot in +use in the ward, and Meredith was conscious of a terror that made him +dread, to look at it, to go near it. Beside it a nurse sat silent, and +upon it feebly tossed the racked body of him whom Barrett had called +Jerry the Teller. + +The head was a shapeless bundle, so swathed it was with bandages +and cloths, and what part of the face was visible was discolored and +pigmented with drugs. Stretched under the white sheet the man looked +immensely tall--as Horner saw with vague misgiving--and he lay in an +odd, inhuman fashion, as though he had been all broken to pieces. +His attempts to move were constantly soothed by the nurse, and he +as constantly renewed such attempts; and one hand, though torn and +bandaged, was not to be restrained from a wandering, restless movement +which Meredith felt to be pathetic. He had entered the room with a flare +of hate for the thug whom he had come to see die, and who had struck +down the old friend whose nearness he had never known until it was too +late. But at first sight of the broken figure he felt all animosity fall +away from him; only awe remained, and a growing, traitorous pity as he +watched the long, white fingers of the Teller “pick at the coverlet.” + The man was muttering rapid fragments of words, and syllables. + +“Somehow I feel a sense of wrong,” Meredith whispered to Gay. “I feel as +if I had done the fellow to death myself, as if it were all out of gear. +I know, now, how Henry felt over the great Guisard. My God, how tall he +looks! That doesn't seem to me like a thug's hand.” + +The surgeon nodded. “Of course, if there's a mistake to be made, you can +count on Barrett and his sergeants to make it. I doubt if this is their +man. When they found him what clothes he wore were torn and stained; but +they had been good once, especially the linen.” + +Barrett bent over the recumbent figure. “See here. Jerry,” he said, “I +want to talk to you a little. Rouse up, will you? I want to talk to you +as a friend.” + +The incoherent muttering continued. + +“See here, Jerry!” repeated Barrett, more sharply. “Jerry! rouse up, +will you? We don't want any fooling; understand that, Jerry!” He dropped +his hand on the man's shoulder and shook him slightly. The Teller +uttered a short, gasping cry. + +“Let me,” said Gay, and swiftly interposed. Bending over the cot, he +said in a pleasant, soft voice: “It's all right, old man; it's all +right. Slattery wants to know what you did with that man down at +Plattville, when you got through with him. He can't remember, and he +thinks there was money left on him. Slattery's head was hurt--he can't +remember. He'll go shares with you, when he gets it. Slattery's going to +stand by you, if he can get the money.” + +The Teller only tried to move his free hand to the shoulder Barrett had +shaken. + +“Slattery wants to know,” repeated the surgeon, gently moving the hand +back upon the sheet. “He'll divvy up, when he gets it. He'll stand by +you, old man.” + +“Would you please not mind,” whispered the Teller faintly, “would +you please not mind if you took care not to brush against my shoulder +again?” + +The surgeon drew back with an exclamation; but the Teller's whisper +gathered strength, and they heard him murmuring oddly to himself. +Meredith moved forward. + +“What's that?” he asked, with a startled gesture. + +“Seems to be trying to sing, or something,” said Barrett, bending over +to listen. The Teller swung his arm heavily over the side of the cot, +the fingers never ceasing their painful twitching, and Gay leaned down +and gently moved the cloths so that the white, scarred lips were free. +They moved steadily; they seemed to be framing the semblance of an old +ballad that Meredith knew; the whisper grew more distinct, and it became +a rich but broken voice, and they heard it singing, like the sound of +some far, halting minstrelsy: + +“Wave willows--murmur waters--golden sunbeams smile, Earthly +music--cannot waken--lovely--Annie Lisle.” + +“My God!” cried Tom Meredith. + +The bandaged hand waved jauntily over the Teller's head. “Ah, men,” he +said, almost clearly, and tried to lift himself on his arm, “I tell +you it's a grand eleven we have this year! There will be little left of +anything that stands against them. Did you see Jim Romley ride over his +man this afternoon?” + +As the voice grew clearer the sheriff stepped forward, but Tom Meredith, +with a loud exclamation of grief, threw himself on his knees beside +the cot and seized the wandering fingers in his own. “John!” he cried. +“John! Is it _you_?” + +The voice went on rapidly, not heeding him: “Ah, you needn't howl; I'd +have been as much use at right as that Sophomore. Well, laugh away, you +Indians! If it hadn't been for this ankle--but it seems to be my chest +that's hurt--and side--not that it matters, you know; the Sophomore's +just as good, or better. It's only my egotism. Yes, it must be +the side--and chest--and head--all over, I believe. Not that it +matters--I'll try again next year--next year I'll make it a daily, Helen +said, not that I should call you Helen--I mean Miss--Miss--Fisbee--no, +Sherwood--but I've always thought Helen was the prettiest name in the +world--you'll forgive me?--And please tell Parker there's no more +copy, and won't be--I wouldn't grind out another stick to save +his immortal--yes, yes, a daily--she said-ah, I never made a good +trade--no--they can't come seven miles--but I'll finish _you_, Skillett, +first; I know _you_! I know nearly all of you! Now let's sing 'Annie +Lisle.'” He lifted his hand as if to beat the time for a chorus. + +“Oh, John, John!” cried Tom Meredith, and sobbed outright. “My boy--my +boy--old friend----” The cry of the classmate was like that of a mother, +for it was his old idol and hero who lay helpless and broken before him. + + + +The brougham lamps and the apathetic sparks of the cab gleamed in front +of the hospital till daylight. Two other pairs of lamps joined them +in the earliest of the small hours, these subjoined to two deep-hooded +phaetons, from each of which quickly descended a gentleman with a beard, +an air of eminence, and a small, ominous black box. The air of eminence +was justified by the haste with which Meredith had sent for them, and by +their wide repute. They arrived almost simultaneously, and hastily shook +hands as they made their way to the ward down the long hall and up the +narrow corridor. They had a short conversation with Gay and a word +with the nurse, then turned the others out of the room by a practiced +innuendo of manner. They stayed a long time in the room without opening +the door. Meredith paced the hall alone, sometimes stopping to speak +to Warren Smith; but the two officials of peace sat together in dumb +consternation and astonishment. The sleepy young man relaxed himself +resignedly upon a bench in the hall had returned to the dormance from +which he had been roused. The big hospital was very still. Now and then +a nurse went through the hall, carrying something, and sometimes a +neat young physician passed cheerfully along, looking as if he had many +patients who were well enough to testify to his skill, but sick enough +to pay for it. Outside, through the open front doors, the crickets +chirped. + +Meredith went out on the steps, and breathed the cool night air. A +slender taint of drugs hung everywhere about the building, and the +almost imperceptible permeation sickened him; it was deadly, he thought, +and imbued with a hideous portent of suffering. That John Harkless, of +all men, should lie stifled with ether, and bandaged and splintered, +and smeared with horrible unguents, while they stabbed and slashed +and tortured him, and made an outrage and a sin of that grand, big, +dexterous body of his! Meredith shuddered. The lights in the little +ward were turned up, and they seemed to shine from a chamber of +horrors, while he waited, as a brother might have waited outside the +Inquisition--if, indeed, a brother would have been allowed to wait +outside the Inquisition. + +Alas, he had found John Harkless! He had “lost track” of him as men +sometimes do lose track of their best beloved, but it had always been a +comfort to know that Harkless _was_--somewhere, a comfort without which +he could hardly have got along. Like others he had been waiting for John +to turn up--on top, of course; for people would always believe in him +so, that he would be shoved ahead, no matter how much he hung back +himself--but Meredith had not expected him to turn up in Indiana. He had +heard vaguely that Harkless was abroad, and he had a general expectation +that people would hear of him over there some day, with papers like the +“Times” beseeching him to go on missions. And he found him here, in his +own home, a stranger, alone and dying, receiving what ministrations were +reserved for Jerry the Teller. But it was Helen Sherwood who had found +him. He wondered how much those two had seen of each other, down there +in Plattville. If they had liked each other, and Harkless could have +lived, he thought it might have simplified some things for Helen. “Poor +Helen!” he exclaimed aloud. Her telegram had a ring, even in the barren +four sentences. He wondered how much they had liked each other. Perhaps +she would wish to come at once. When those fellows came out of the room +he would send her a word by telegraph. + +When they came out--ah! he did not want them to come out; he was afraid. +They were an eternity--why didn't they come? No; he hoped they would not +come, just now. In a little time, in a few minutes, even, he would not +dread a few words so much; but _now_ he couldn't quite bear to be told +he had found his friend only to lose him, the man he had always most +needed, wanted, loved. Everybody had always cared for Harkless, wherever +he went. That _he_ had always cared for everybody was part of the +reason, maybe. Meredith remembered, now, hearing a man who had spent a +day in Plattville on business speak of him: “They've got a young fellow +down there who'll be Governor in a few years. He's a sort of dictator; +and runs the party all over that part of the State to suit his own sweet +will, just by sheer personality. And there isn't a man in that district +who wouldn't cheerfully lie down in the mud to let him pass over dry. +It's that young Harkless, you know; owns the 'Herald,' the paper +that downed McCune and smashed those imitation 'White-Caps' in Carlow +County.” Meredith had been momentarily struck by the coincidence of the +name, but his notion of Harkless was so inseparably connected with +what was (to his mind) a handsome and more spacious--certainly more +illuminated--field of action, that the idea that this might be his +friend never entered his head. Helen had said something once--he could +not remember what--that made him think she had half suspected it, and +he had laughed. He thought of the whimsical fate that had taken her to +Plattville, of the reason for her going, and the old thought came to +him that the world is, after all, so very small. He looked up at the +twinkling stars; they were reassuring and kind. Under their benignancy +no loss could befall, no fate miscarry--for in his last thought he felt +his vision opened, for the moment, to perceive a fine tracery of fate. + +“Ah, that would be too beautiful!” he said. + +And then he shivered; for his name was spoken from within. + +It was soon plain to him that he need not have feared a few words, for +he did not in the least understand those with which the eminent surgeons +favored him; and they at once took their departure. He did understand, +however, what Horner told him. Mr. Barrett, Warren Smith, and the sleepy +young man had reentered the ward; and Horner was following, but waited +for Meredith. Somehow, the look of the sheriff's Sunday coat, wrinkling +forlornly from his broad, bent shoulders, was both touching and solemn. +He said simply: “He's conscious and not out of his head. They're gone in +to take his ante-mortem statement,” and they went into the room. + +Harkless's eyes were bandaged. The lawyer was speaking to him, and as +Horner went awkwardly toward the cot. Warren said something indicative +of the sheriff's presence, and the hand on the sheet made a formless +motion which Horner understood, for he took the pale fingers in his own, +very gently, and then set them back. Smith turned toward Meredith, but +the latter made a gesture which forbade the attorney to speak of him, +and went to a corner and sat down with his head in his hands. + +The sleepy young man opened a notebook and shook a stylographic pen so +that the ink might flow freely. The lawyer, briefly and with unlegal +agitation, administered an oath, to which Harkless responded feebly, and +then there was silence. + +“Now, Mr. Harkless, if you please,” said Barrett, insinuatingly; “if you +feel like telling us as much as you can about it?” + +He answered in a low, rather indistinct voice, very deliberately, +pausing before almost every word. It was easy work for the sleepy +stenographer. + +“I understand. I don't want to go off my head again before I finish. +Of course I know why you want this. If it were only for myself I should +tell you nothing, because, if I am to leave, I should like it better if +no one were punished. But that's a bad community over there; they are +everlastingly worrying our people; they have always been a bother to +us, and it's time it was stopped for good. I don't believe very much +in punishment, but you can't do a great deal of reforming with the +Cross-Roaders unless you catch them young--very young, before they're +weaned--they wean them on whiskey, I think. I realize you needn't have +sworn me for me to tell you this.” + +Homer and Smith had started at the mention of the Cross-Roads, but they +subdued their ejaculations, while Mr. Barrett looked as if he had known +it, of course. The room was still, save for the dim voice and the soft +transcribings of the stylographic pen. + +“I left Judge Briscoe's, and went west on the pike to a big tree. It +rained, and I stepped under the tree for shelter. There was a man on the +other side of the fence. It was Bob Skillett. He was carrying his gown +and hood--I suppose it was that--on his arm. Then I saw two others a +little farther east, in the middle of the road; and I think they had +followed me from the Briscoes', or near there. They had their foolish +regalia on, as all the rest had,--there was plenty of lightning to see. +The two in the road were simply standing there in the rain, looking +at me through the eye-holes in their hoods. I knew there were +others--plenty--but I thought they were coming from behind me--the west. + +“I wanted to get home--the court-house yard was good enough for me--so I +started east, toward town. I passed the two gentlemen; and one fell down +as I went by him, but the other fired a shot as a signal, and I got +his hood off his face for it--I stopped long enough--and it was Force +Johnson. I know him well. Then I ran, and they followed. A little ahead +of me I saw six or eight of them spread across the road. I knew I'd have +a time getting through, so I jumped the fence to cut across the fields, +and I lit in a swarm of them--it had rained them just where I jumped. I +set my back to the fence, but one of the fellows in the road leaned over +and smashed my head in, rather--with the butt of a gun, I believe. I +came out from the fence and they made a little circle around me. No +one said anything. I saw they had ropes and saplings, and I didn't want +that, exactly, so I went into them. I got a good many hoods off before +it was over, and I can swear to quite a number besides those I told +you.” + +He named the men, slowly and carefully. Then he went on: “I think +they gave up the notion of whipping. We all got into a bunch, and they +couldn't clear to shoot without hitting some of their own: and there was +a lot of gouging and kicking--one fellow nearly got my left eye, and +I tried to tear him apart and he screamed so that I think he was hurt. +Once or twice I thought I might get away, but somebody hammered me over +the head and face again, and I got dizzy; and then they all jumped away +from me suddenly, and Bob Skillett stepped up--and--shot me. He waited +for a good flurry of lightning, and I was slow tumbling down. Some one +else fired a shot-gun, I think--I can't be sure--about the same time, +from the side. I tried to get up, but I couldn't, and then they got +together, for a consultation. The man I had hurt--I didn't recognize +him--came and looked at me. He was nursing himself all over; and +groaned; and I laughed, I--at any rate, my arm was lying stretched out +on the grass, and he stamped his heel into my hand, and after a little +of that I quit feeling. + +“I'm not quite clear about what happened afterwards. They went away, not +far, I think. There's an old shed, a cattle-shelter, near there, and +I think the storm drove them under it to wait for a slack. It seemed a +long time. Sometimes I was conscious, sometimes I wasn't. I thought +I might be drowned, but I suppose the rain was good for me. Then I +remember being in motion, being dragged and carried a long way. They +took me up a steep, short slope, and set me down near the top. I knew +that was the railroad embankment, and I thought they meant to lay me +across the track, but it didn't occur to them, I suppose--they are not +familiar with melodrama--and a long time after that I felt and heard a +great banging and rattling under me and all about me, and it came to me +that they had disposed of me by hoisting me into an empty freight-car. +The odd part of it was that the car wasn't empty, for there were two men +already in it, and I knew them by what they said to me. + +“They were the two shell-men who cheated Hartley Bowlder, and they +weren't vindictive; they even seemed to be trying to help me a little, +though perhaps they were only stealing my clothes, and maybe they +thought for them to do anything unpleasant would be superfluous; I could +see that they thought I was done for, and that they had been hiding in +the car when I was put there. I asked them to try to call the train +men for me, but they wouldn't listen, or else I couldn't make myself +understood. That's all. The rest is a blur. I haven't known anything +more until those surgeons were here. Please tell me how long ago it +happened. I shall not die, I think; there are a good many things I want +to know about.” He moved restlessly and the nurse soothed him. + +Meredith rose and left the room with a noiseless step. He went out +to the stars again, and looked to them to check the storm of rage and +sorrow that buffeted his bosom. He understood lynching, now the thing +was home to him, and his feeling was no inspiration of a fear lest the +law miscarry; it was the itch to get his own hand on the rope. Horner +came out presently, and whispered a long, broad, profound curse upon +the men of the Cross-Roads, and Meredith's gratitude to him was keen. +Barrett went away, soon after, leaving the cab for the gentlemen from +Plattville. Meredith had a strange, unreasonable desire to kick Barrett, +possibly for his sergeant's sake. Warren Smith sat in the ward with the +nurse and Gay, and the room was very quiet. It was a long vigil. + +They were only waiting. + +At five o'clock he was still alive--just that, Smith came out to say. +Meredith sent his driver with a telegram to Helen which would give +Plattville the news that Harkless was found and was not yet gone from +them. Homer took the cab and left for the station; there was a train, +and there were things for him to do in Carlow. At noon Meredith sent +a second telegram to Helen, as barren of detail as the first: he was +alive--was a little improved. This telegram did not reach her, for she +was on the way to Rouen, and half of the population of Carlow--at least, +so it appeared to the unhappy conductor of the accommodation--was with +her. + +They seemed to feel that they could camp in the hospital halls and +corridors, and they were an incalculable worry to the authorities. More +came on every train, and nearly all brought flowers, and jelly, and +chickens for preparing broth, and they insisted that the two latter +delicacies be fed to the patient at once. Meredith was possessed by an +unaccountable responsibility for them all, and invited a great many to +stay at his own house. They were still in ignorance of the truth about +the Cross-Roads, and some of them spent the day (it was Sunday) in +planning an assault upon the Rouen jail for the purpose of lynching +Slattery in case Harkless's condition did not improve at once. Those who +had heard his statement kept close mouths until the story appeared +in full in the Rouen papers on Monday morning; but by that time every +member of the Cross-Roads White-Caps was lodged in the Rouen jail with +Slattery. Homer and a heavily armed posse rode over to the muddy corners +on Sunday night, and the sheriff discovered that he might have taken the +Skilletts and Johnsons single-handed and unarmed. Their nerve was +gone; they were shaken and afraid; and, to employ a figure somewhat +inappropriate to their sullen, glad surrender, they fell upon his neck +in their relief at finding the law touching them. They had no wish to +hear “John Brown's Body” again. They wanted to get inside of a strong +jail, and to throw themselves on the mercy of the court as soon as +possible. And those whom Harkless had not recognized delayed not to give +themselves up; they did not desire to remain in Six-Cross-Roads. Bob +Skillett, Force Johnson, and one or two others needed the care of a +physician badly, and one man was suffering from a severely wrenched +back. Homer had a train stopped at a crossing, so that his prisoners +need not be taken through Plattville, and he brought them all safely +to Rouen. Had there chanced any one to ride through the deserted +Cross-Roads the next morning, passing the trampled fields and the +charred ruins of the two shanties to the east, and listening to the +lamentations of the women and children, he would have declared that at +last the old score had been paid, and that Six-Cross-Roads was wiped +out. + +The Carlow folks were deeply impressed with the two eminent surgeons, +of whom some of them had heard, and on Tuesday, the bulletins marking +considerable encouragement, most of them decided to temporarily risk the +editor of the “Herald” to such capable hands, and they returned quietly +to their homes; only a few were delayed in reaching Carlow by travelling +to the first station in the opposite direction before they succeeded in +planting themselves on the proper train. + +Meanwhile, the object of their solicitude tossed and burned on his bed +of pain. He was delirious most of the time, and, in the intervals of +half-consciousness, found that his desire to live, very strong at first, +had disappeared; he did not care much about anything except rest--he +wanted peace. In his wanderings he was almost always back in his college +days, beholding them in an unhappy, distorted fashion. He would lie +asprawl on the sward with the others, listening to the Seniors singing +on the steps, and, all at once, the old, kindly faces would expand +enormously and press over him with hideous mouthings, and an ugly Senior +in cap and gown would stamp him and grind a spiked heel into his hand; +then they would toss him high into air that was all flames, and he would +fall and fall through the raging heat, seeing the cool earth far beneath +him, but never able to get down to it again. And then he was driven +miles and miles by dusky figures, through a rain of boiling water; and +at other times the whole universe was a vast, hot brass bell, and it +gave off a huge, continuous roar and hum, while he was a mere point of +consciousness floating in the exact centre of the heat and sound waves, +and he listened, listened for years, to the awful, brazen hum from which +there could be no escape; at the same time it seemed to him that he was +only a Freshman on the slippery roof of the tower, trying to steal the +clapper of the chapel bell. + +Finally he came to what he would have considered a lucid interval, had +it not appeared that Helen Sherwood was whispering to Tom Meredith at +the foot of his bed. This he knew to be a fictitious presentation of +his fever, for was she not by this time away and away for foreign lands? +And, also, Tom Meredith was a slim young thing, and not the middle-aged +youth with an undeniable stomach and a baldish head, who, by the +grotesque necromancy of his hallucinations, assumed a preposterous +likeness to his old friend. He waved his hand to the figures and they +vanished like figments of a dream; but all the same the vision had been +realistic enough for the lady to look exquisitely pretty. No one could +help wishing to stay in a world which contained as charming a picture as +that. + +And then, too quickly, the moment of clearness passed; and he was +troubled about the “Herald,” beseeching those near him to put copies +of the paper in his hands, threatening angrily to believe they were +deceiving him, that his paper had suspended, if the three issues of +the week were not instantly produced. What did they mean by keeping the +truth from him? He knew the “Herald” had not come out. Who was there to +get it out in his absence? He raised himself on his elbow and struggled +to be up; and they had hard work to quiet him. + +But the next night Meredith waited near his bedside, haggard and +dishevelled. Harkless had been lying in a long stupor; suddenly he +spoke, quite loudly, and the young surgeon, Gay, who leaned over him, +remembered the words and the tone all his life. + +“Away and away--across the waters,” said John Harkless. “She was +here--once--in June.” + +“What is it, John?” whispered Meredith, huskily. “You're easier, aren't +you?” + +And John smiled a little, as if, for an instant, his swathed eyes +penetrated the bandages, and saw and knew his old friend again. + +That same night a friend of Rodney McCune's sent a telegram from Rouen: +“He is dying. His paper is dead. Your name goes before convention in +September.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. JAMES FISBEE + +On Monday morning three men sat in council in the “Herald” office; that +is, if staring out of dingy windows in a demented silence may be +called sitting in council; that was what Mr. Fisbee and Parker and Ross +Schofield were doing. By almost desperate exertions, these three and Bud +Tipworthy had managed to place before the public the issues of the paper +for the previous week, unaided by their chief, or, rather, aided by long +accounts of his condition and the manner of his mishap; and, in +truth, three copies were at that moment in the possession of Dr. Gay, +accompanied by a note from Parker warning the surgeon to exhibit them to +his patient only as a last resort, as the foreman feared the perusal of +them might cause a relapse. + +By indiscriminate turns, acting as editors, reporters, and +typesetters--and particularly space-writers--the three men had worried +out three issues, and part of the fourth (to appear the next morning) +was set up; but they had come to the end of their string, and there were +various horrid gaps yet to fill in spite of a too generous spreading of +advertisements. Bud Tipworthy had been sent out to besiege Miss Tibbs, +all of whose recent buds of rhyme had been hot-housed into inky blossom +during the week, and after a long absence the youth returned with a +somewhat abrupt quatrain, entitled “The Parisians of Old,” which she had +produced while he waited--only four lines, according to the measure they +meted, which was not regardful of art--less than a drop in the bucket, +or, to preserve the figure, a single posy where they needed a bouquet. +Bud went down the rickety outside stairs, and sat on the lowest +step, whistling “Wait till the Clouds Roll by, Jenny”; Ross Schofield +descended to set up the quatrain, and Fisbee and Parker were left to +silence and troubled meditation. + +They were seated on opposite sides of Harkless's desk. Sheets of blank +scratch-paper lay before them, and they relaxed not their knit brows. +Now and then, one of them, after gazing vacantly about the room for +ten or fifteen minutes, would attack the sheet before him with fiercest +energy; then the energy would taper off, and the paragraph halt, the +writer peruse it dubiously, then angrily tear off the sheet and hurl +it to the floor. All around them lay these snowballs of defeated +journalism. + +Mr. Parker was a long, loose, gaunt gentleman, with a peremptory +forehead and a capable jaw, but on the present occasion his capability +was baffled and swamped in the attempt to steer the craft of his talent +up an unaccustomed channel without a pilot. “I don't see as it's any +use, Fisbee,” he said, morosely, after a series of efforts that littered +the floor in every direction. “I'm a born compositor, and I can't shift +my trade. I stood the pace fairly for a week, but I'll have to give up; +I'm run plumb dry. I only hope they won't show him our Saturday with +your three columns of 'A Word of the Lotus Motive,' reprinted from +February. I begin to sympathize with the boss, because I know what he +felt when I ballyragged him for copy. Yes, sir, I know how it is to be +an editor in a dead town now.” + +“We must remember, too,” said his companion, thoughtfully, “there is the +Thursday issue of this week to be prepared, almost at once.” + +“_Don't_! Please don't mention that, Fisbee!” Parker tilted far back in +his chair with his feet anchored under the desk, preserving a precarious +balance. “I ain't as grateful for my promotion to joint Editor-in-Chief +as I might be. I'm a middling poor man for the hour, I guess,” he +remarked, painfully following the peregrinations of a fly on his +companion's sleeve. + +Mr. Fisbee twisted up another sheet, and employed his eyes in following +the course of a crack in the plaster, a slender black aperture which +staggered across the dusty ceiling and down the dustier wall to +disappear behind a still dustier map of Carlow County. “That's the +trouble!” exclaimed Parker, observing the other's preoccupation. “Soon +as you get to writing a line or two that seems kind of promising, you +begin to take a morbid interest in that blamed crack. It's busted up +enough copy for me, the last eight days, to have filled her up twenty +times over. I don't know as I ever care to see that crack again. I +turned my back on it, but there wasn't any use in that, because if a +fly lights on you I watch him like a brother, and if there ain't any fly +I've caught a mania for tapping my teeth with a pencil, that is just as +good.” + +To these two gentlemen, thus disengaged, reentered (after a much longer +absence than Miss Selina's quatrain justified) Mr. Ross Schofield, a +healthy glow of exertion lending pleasant color to his earnest visage, +and an almost visible laurel of success crowning his brows. In addition +to this imaginary ornament, he was horned with pencils over both ears, +and held some scribbled sheets in his hand. + +“I done a good deal down there,” he announced cheerfully, drawing up a +chair to the desk. “I thought up a heap of things I've heard lately, and +they'll fill up mighty well. That there poem of Miss Seliny's was a kind +of an inspiration to me, and I tried one myself, and it didn't come +hard at all. When I got started once, it jest seemed to flow from me. +I didn't set none of it up,” he added modestly, but with evident +consciousness of having unearthed genius in himself and an elate +foreknowledge of the treat in store for his companions. “I thought I'd +ort to see how you liked it first.” He offered the papers to Mr. Parker, +but the foreman shook his head. + +“You read it, Ross,” I said. “I don't believe I feel hearty enough +to-day. Read the items first--we can bear the waiting.” + +“What waiting?” inquired Mr. Schofield. + +“For the poem,” replied Parker, grimly. + +With a vague but not fleeting smile, Ross settled the sheets in order, +and exhibited tokens of that pleasant nevousness incident to appearing +before a critical audience, armed with literature whose merits should +delight them out of the critical attitude. “I run across a great scheme +down there,” he volunteered amiably, by way of preface; “I described +everything in full, in as many words as I could think up; it's mighty +filling, and it'll please the public, too; it gives 'em a lot more +information than they us'ally git. I reckon there's two sticks of jest +them extry words alone.” + +“Go on,” said the foreman, rather ominously. + +Ross began to read, a matter necessitating a puckered brow and at times +an amount of hesitancy and ruminating, as his results had already cooled +a little, and he found his hand difficult to decipher. “Here's the +first,” he said: + +“'The large and handsome, fawn-colored, two years and one-half year old +Jersey of Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire----'” + +The foreman interrupted him: “Every reader of the 'Herald' will be glad +to know that Jersey's age and color! But go on.” + +“'--Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire,'” pursued his assistant, with +some discomfiture, “'--Esquire, our popular and well-dressed +fellow-citizen----'” + +“You're right; Bib Jones is a heavy swell,” said Parker in a breaking +voice. + +“'--Citizen, can be daily seen wandering from the far end of his +pasture-lot to the other far end of it.'” + +“'His!'” exclaimed Parker. “'_His_ pasture-lot?' The Jersey's?” + +“No,” returned the other, meekly, “Bib Jones's.” + +“Oh,” said Parker. “Is that the end of that item? It is! You want to get +out of Plattville, my friend; it's too small for you; you go to Rouen +and you'll be city editor of the 'Journal' inside of a week. Let's have +another.” + +Mr. Schofield looked up blankly; however, he felt that there was enough +live, legitimate news in his other items to redeem the somewhat tame +quality of the first, and so, after having crossed out several of the +extra words which had met so poor a reception, he proceeded: + +“'Whit Upton's pigs broke out last Wednesday and rooted up a fine patch +of garden truck. Hard luck, Whit.' + +“'Jerusalem Hawkins took a drive yesterday afternoon. He had the bay +to his side-bar. Jee's buggy has been recently washed. Congratulations, +Jee.'” + +“There's thrilling information!” shouted the foreman. “That'll touch the +gentle reader to the marrow. The boss had to use some pretty rotten copy +himself, but he never got as low as that. But we'll use it; oh, we'll +use it! If we don't get her out he'll have a set-back, but if they show +her to him it'll kill him. If it doesn't, and he gets well, he'll kill +us. But we'll use it, Ross. Don't read any more to us, though; I feel +weaker than I did, and I wasn't strong before. Go down and set it all +up.” + +Mr. Schofield rejoined with an injured air, and yet hopefully: “I'd like +to see what you think of the poetry--it seemed all right to me, but I +reckon you ain't ever the best judge of your own work. Shall I read it?” + The foreman only glanced at him in silence, and the young man took this +for assent. “I haven't made up any name for it yet.” + + “'O, the orphan boy stood on the hill, + The wind blew cold and very chill--'” + +Glancing at his auditors, he was a trifle abashed to observe a glaze +upon the eyes of Mr. Parker, while a purple tide rose above his +neck-band and unnaturally distended his throat and temples. With a +placative little laugh, Mr. Schofield remarked: “I git the swing to her +all right, I reckon, but somehow it doesn't sound so kind of good as +when I was writing it.” There was no response, and he went on hurriedly: + + “'But there he saw the little rill--'” + +The poet paused to say, with another amiable laugh: “It's sort of hard +to git out of them ill, hill, chill rhymes once you strike 'em. It runs +on like this: + + “'--Little rill + That curved and spattered around the hill.' + +“I guess that's all right, to use 'hill' twice; don't you reckon so? + + “'And the orphan he stood there until + The wind and all gave him a chill; + And he sickened--'” + +That day Ross read no more, for the tall printer, seemingly incapable +of coherent speech, kicked the desk impotently, threw his arms above +his head, and, his companions confidently looking to see him foam at the +mouth, lost his balance and toppled over backward, his extensive legs +waving wildly in the air as he struck the floor. Mr. Schofield fled. + +Parker made no effort to rise, but lay glaring at the ceiling, breathing +hard. He remained in that position for a long time, until finally the +glaze wore away from his eyes and a more rational expression settled +over his features. Mr. Fisbee addressed him timidly: “You don't think we +could reduce the size of the sheet?” + +“It would kill him,” answered his prostrate companion. “We've got to +fill her solid some way, though I give up; I don't know how. How that +man has worked! It was genius. He just floated around the county and +soaked in items, and he wrote editorials that people read. One thing's +certain: we can't do it. We're ruining his paper for him, and when he +gets able to read, it'll hurt him bad. Mighty few knew how much pride he +had in it. Has it struck you that now would be a precious good time for +it to occur to Rod McCune to come out of his hole? Suppose we go by the +board, what's to stop him? What's to stop him, anyway? Who knows where +the boss put those copies and affidavits, and if we did know, would we +know the best way to use 'em? If we did, what's to keep the 'Herald' +alive until McCune lifts his head? And if we don't stop him, the 'Carlow +County Herald' is finished. Something's got to be done!'” + +No one realized this more poignantly than Mr. Fisbee, but no one was +less capable of doing something of his own initiation. And although +the Tuesday issue was forthcoming, embarrassingly pale in spots--most +spots--Mr. Martin remarked rather publicly that the items were not what +you might call stirring, and that the unpatented pages put him in mind +of Jones's field in winter with a dozen chunks of coal dropped in the +snow. And his observations on the later issues of the week (issues which +were put forth with a suggestion of spasm, and possibly to the permanent +injury of Mr. Parker's health, he looked so thin) were too cruelly +unkind to be repeated here. Indeed, Mr. Fisbee, Parker, the luckless Mr. +Schofield, and the young Tipworthy may be not untruthfully likened to +a band of devoted mariners lost in the cold and glaring regions of a +journalistic Greenland: limitless plains of empty white paper extending +about them as far as the eye could reach, while life depended upon their +making these terrible voids productive; and they shrank appalled from +the task, knowing no means to fertilize the barrens; having no talent to +bring the still snows into harvests, and already feeling-in the chill of +Mr. Martin's remarks--a touch of the frost that might wither them. + +It was Fisbee who caught the first glimpse of a relief expedition +clipping the rough seas on its lively way to rescue them, and, although +his first glimpse of the jaunty pennant of the relieving vessels was +over the shoulder of an iceberg, nothing was surer than that the craft +was flying to them with all good and joyous speed. The iceberg just +mentioned assumed--by no melting process, one may be sure--the form of a +long letter, first postmarked at Rouen, and its latter substance was as +follows: + + +“Henry and I have always believed you as selfish, James Fisbee, as +you are self-ingrossed and incapable. She has told us of your +'renunciation'; of your 'forbidding' her to remain with you; how you +'commanded,' after you had 'begged' her, to return to us, and how her +conscience told her she should stay and share your life in spite of +our long care of her, but that she yielded to your 'wishes' and our +entreaty. What have you ever done for her and what have you to offer +her? She is our daughter, and needless to say we shall still take care +of her, for no one believes you capable of it, even in that miserable +place, and, of course, in time she will return to her better wisdom, +her home, and her duty. I need scarcely say we have given up the happy +months we had planned to spend in Dresden. Henry and I can only stay at +home to pray that her preposterous mania will wear itself out in short +order, as she will find herself unfitted for the ridiculous task which +she insists upon attempting against the earnest wishes of us who have +been more than father and mother to her. Of course, she has talked +volumes of her affection for us, and of her gratitude, which we do not +want--we only want her to stay with us. Please, please try to make her +come back to us--we cannot bear it long. If you are a man you will send +her to us soon. Her excuse for not returning on the day we wired our +intention to go abroad at once (and I may as well tell you now that our +intention to go was formed in order to bring affairs to a crisis and to +draw her away from your influence--we always dreaded her visit to you +and held it off for years)--her excuse was that your best friend, and, +as I understand it, your patron, had been injured in some brawl in +that Christian country of yours--a charming place to take a girl like +her--and she would not leave you in your 'distress' until more was known +of the man's injuries. And now she insists--and you will know it from +her by the next mail--on returning to Plattville, forsooth, because +she has been reading your newspaper, and she says she knows you are in +difficulties over it, and it is her moral obligation--as by some wild +reasoning of her own she considers herself responsible for your ruffling +patron's having been alone when he was shot--to go down and help. I +suppose he made love to her, as all the young men she meets always do, +sooner or later, but I have no fear of any rustic entanglements tor her; +she has never been really interested, save in one affair. We are +quite powerless--we have done everything; but we cannot alter her +determination to edit your paper for you. Naturally, she knows nothing +whatever about such work, but she says, with the air of triumphantly +quelching all such argument, that she has talked a great deal to Mr. +Macauley of the 'Journal.' Mr. Macauley is the affair I have alluded to; +he is what she has meant when she has said, at different times, that she +was interested in journalism. But she is very business-like now. She +has bought a typewriter and purchased a great number of soft pencils and +erasers at an art shop; I am only surprised that she does not intend to +edit your miserable paper in water-colors. She is coming at once. For +mercy's sake don't telegraph her not to; your forbiddings work the +wrong way. Our only hope is that she will find the conditions so utterly +discouraging at the very start that she will give it up and come home. +If you are a man you will help to make them so. She has promised to stay +with that country girl with whom she contracted such an incomprehensible +friendship at Miss Jennings's. + +“Oh, James, pray for grace to be a man once in your life and send her +back to us! Be a man--try to be a man! Remember the angel you killed! +Remember all we have done for you and what a return you have made, and +be a man for the first time. Try and be a man! + + “Your unhappy sister-in-law, + + “MARTHA SHERWOOD.” + + +Mr. Fisbee read the letter with a great, rising delight which no sense +of duty could down; indeed, he perceived that his sense of duty had +ceased to conflict with the one strong hope of his life, just as he +perceived that to be a man, according to Martha Sherwood, was, in part, +to assist Martha Sherwood to have her way in things; and, for the rest, +to be the sort of man she persuaded herself she would be were she not a +woman. This he had never been able to be. + +By some whimsy of fate, or by a failure of Karma (or, perhaps, by some +triumph of Kismetic retribution), James Fisbee was born in one of the +most business-like and artless cities of a practical and modern country, +of money-getting, money-saving parents, and he was born a dreamer of +the past. He grew up a student of basilican lore, of choir-screens, of +Persian frescoes, and an ardent lounger in the somewhat musty precincts +of Chaldea and Byzantium and Babylon. Early Christian Symbolism, a +dispute over the site of a Greek temple, the derivation of the lotus +column, the restoration of a Gothic buttress--these were the absorbing +questions of his youth, with now and then a lighter moment spent in +analytical consideration of the extra-mural decorations of St. Mark's. +The world buzzed along after its own fashion, not disturbing him, and +his absorptions permitted only a faint consciousness of the despair of +his relatives regarding his mind. Arrived at middle-age, and a little +more, he found himself alone in the world (though, for that matter, he +had always been alone and never of the world), and there was plenty of +money for him with various bankers who appeared to know about looking +after it. Returning to the town of his nativity after sundry expeditions +in Syria--upon which he had been accompanied by dusky gentlemen with +pickaxes and curly, long-barrelled muskets--he met, and was married by, +a lady who was ambitious, and who saw in him (probably as a fulfilment +of another Kismetic punishment) a power of learning and a destined +success. Not long after the birth of their only child, a daughter, +he was “called to fill the chair” of archaeology in a newly founded +university; one of the kind which a State and a millionaire combine to +purchase ready-made. This one was handed down off the shelf in a more or +less chaotic condition, and for a period of years betrayed considerable +doubt as to its own intentions, undecided whether they were classical +or technical; and in the settlement of that doubt lay the secret of the +past of the one man in Plattville so unhappy as to possess a past. From +that settlement and his own preceding action resulted his downfall, +his disgrace with his wife's relatives, the loss of his wife, the rage, +surprise, and anguish of her sister, Martha, and Martha's husband, Henry +Sherwood, and the separation from his little daughter, which was by +far to him the hardest to bear. For Fisbee, in his own way, and without +consulting anybody--it never occurred to him, and he was supposed often +to forget that he had a wife and child--had informally turned over to +the university all the money which the banks had kindly taken care of, +and had given it to equip an expedition which never expedited. A new +president of the institution was installed; he talked to the trustees; +they met, and elected to become modern and practical and technical; they +abolished the course in fine arts, which abolished Fisbee's connection +with them, and they then employed his money to erect a building for the +mechanical engineering department. Fisbee was left with nothing. His +wife and her kinsfolk exhibited no brilliancy in holding a totally +irresponsible man down to responsibilities, and they made a tragedy of +a not surprising fiasco. Mrs. Fisbee had lived in her ambitions, and +she died of heartbreak over the discovery of what manner of man she had +married. But, before she died, she wisely provided for her daughter. + +Fisbee told Parker the story after his own queer fashion. + +“You see, Mr. Parker,” he said, as they sat together in the dust and +litter of the “Herald” office, on Sunday afternoon, “you see, I admit +that my sister-in-law has always withheld her approbation from me, and +possibly her disapproval is well founded--I shall say probably. My wife +had also a considerable sum, and this she turned over to me at the time +of our marriage, though I had no wish regarding it one way or the other. +When I gave my money to the university with which I had the honor to be +connected, I added to it the fund I had received from her, as I was the +recipient of a comfortable salary as a lecturer in the institution +and had no fear of not living well, and I was greatly interested in +providing that the expedition should be perfectly equipped. Expeditions +of the magnitude of that which I had planned are expensive, I should, +perhaps, inform you, and this one was to carry on investigations +regarding several important points, very elaborately; and I am still +convinced it would have settled conclusively many vital questions +concerning the derivation of the Babylonian column, as: whether the +lotus column may be without prejudice said to--but at the present moment +I will not enter into that. I fear I had no great experience in money +matters, for the transaction had been almost entirely verbal, and +there was nothing to bind the trustees to carry out my plans for the +expedition. They were very sympathetic, but what could they do? they +begged leave to inquire. Such an institution cannot give back money once +donated, and it was clearly out of character for a school of technology +and engineering to send savants to investigate the lotus column.” + +“I see,” Mr. Parker observed, genially. He listened with the most +ingratiating attention, knowing that he had a rich sensation to +set before Plattville as a dish before a king, for Fisbee's was no +confidential communication. The old man might have told a part of his +history long ago, but it had never occurred to him to talk about his +affairs--things had a habit of not occurring to Fisbee--and the efforts +of the gossips to draw him out always passed over his serene and absent +head. + +“It was a blow to my wife,” the old man continued, sadly, “and I cannot +deny that her reproaches were as vehement as her disappointment was +sincere.” He hurried over this portion of his narrative with a vaguely +troubled look, but the intelligent Parker read poor Mrs. Fisbee's state +of mind between the sentences. “She never seemed to regard me in the +same light again,” the archaeologist went on. “She did not conceal +from me that she was surprised and that she could not look upon me as a +practical man; indeed, I may say, she appeared to regard me with marked +antipathy. She sent for her sister, and begged her to take our daughter +and keep her from me, as she did not consider me practical enough-I will +substitute for her more embittered expressions--to provide for a +child and instruct it in the world's ways. My sister-in-law, who was +childless, consented to adopt the little one, on the conditions that +I renounced all claim, and that the child legally assumed her name and +should be in all respects as her own daughter, and that I consented to +see her but once a year, in Rouen, at my brother-in-law's home. + +“I should have refused, but I--my wife--that is--she was--very +pressing--in her last hours, and they all seemed to feel that I ought to +make amends--all except the little girl herself, I should say, for she +possessed, even as an infant, an exceptional affection for her father. +I had nothing; my salary was gone, and I was discomfited by the combined +actions of the trustees and my relatives, so--I--I gave her up to them, +and my wife passed away in a more cheerful frame of mind, I think. That +is about all. One of the instructors obtained the position here for me, +which I--I finally--lost, and I went to See the little girl every New +Year's day. This year she declared her intention of visiting _me_, but +she was persuaded by friends who were conversant with the circumstances +to stay with them, where I could be with her almost as much as at my +apartment at Mr. Tibbs's. She had long since declared her intention of +some day returning to live with me, and when she came she was strenuous +in insisting that the day had come.” The old man's voice broke suddenly +as he observed: “She has--a very--beautiful--character, Mr. Parker.” + +The foreman nodded with warm confirmation. “I believe you, sir. Yes, +sir; I saw her, and I guess she looks it. You take that kind of a lady +usually, and catch her in a crowd like the one show-day, and she can't +help doing the Grand Duchess, giving the tenants a treat--but not her; +she didn't seem to _separate_ herself from 'em, some way.” + +“She is a fine lady,” said the other simply. “I did not accept her +renunciation, though I acknowledge I forbade it with a very poignant +envy. I could not be the cause of her giving up for my sake her state +of ease and luxury--for my relatives are more than well-to-do, and they +made it plain she must choose between them and me, with the design, I +think, of making it more difficult to choose me. And, also, it seemed +to me, as it did to her, that she owed them nearly everything, but she +declared I had lived alone so long that she owed me everything, also. +She is a--beautiful--character, Mr. Parker.” + +“Well,” said Parker, after a pause, “the town will be upside down over +this; and folks will be mighty glad to have it explained about your +being out there so much, and at the deepo, and all this and that. +Everybody in the place has been wondering what in--that is--” he +finished in some confusion--“that is--what I started to say was that +it won't be so bad as it might be, having a lady in the office here. I +don't cuss to speak of, and Ross can lay off on his till the boss comes +back. Besides, it's our only chance. If she can't make the 'Herald' hum, +we go to the wall.” + +The old man did not seem to hear him. “I forbade the renunciation she +wished to make for my sake,” he said, gently, “but I accept it now for +the sake of our stricken friend--for Mr. Harkless.” + +“And for the Carlow 'Herald,'” completed the foreman. + +The morning following that upon which this conversation took place, +the two gentlemen stood together on the station platform, awaiting +the arrival of the express from Rouen. It was a wet gray day; the wide +country lay dripping under formless wraps of thin mist, and a warm, +drizzling rain blackened the weather-beaten shingles of the station; +made clear-reflecting puddles of the unevenly worn planks of the +platform, and dampened the packing-cases that never went anywhere too +thoroughly for occupation by the station-lounger, and ran in a little +crystal stream off Fisbee's brown cotton umbrella and down Mr. Parker's +back. The 'bus driver, Mr. Bennett, the proprietor of two attendant +“cut-unders,” and three or four other worthies whom business, or the +lack of it, called to that locality, availed themselves of the shelter +of the waiting-room, but the gentlemen of the “Herald” were too agitated +to be confined, save by the limits of the horizon. They had reached the +station half an hour before train time, and consumed the interval in +pacing the platform under the cotton umbrella, addressing each other +only in monosyllables. Those in the waiting-room gossiped eagerly, and +for the thousandth time, about the late events, and the tremendous news +concerning Fisbee. Judd Bennett looked out through the rainy doorway at +the latter with reverence and a fine pride of townsmanship, declaring +it to be his belief that Fisbee and Parker were waiting for her at +the present moment. It was a lady, and a bird of a lady, too, else why +should Cale Parker be wearing a coat, and be otherwise dooded and fixed +up beyond any wedding? Judd and his friends were somewhat excited over +Parker. + +Fisbee was clad in his best shabby black, which lent an air of state to +the occasion, but Mr. Parker--Caleb Parker, whose heart, during his five +years of residence in Plattville, had been steel-proof against all the +feminine blandishments of the town, whose long, lank face had shown +beneath as long, and lanker, locks of proverbially uncombed hair, he who +had for weeks conspicuously affected a single, string-patched suspender, +who never, even upon the Sabbath day, wore a collar or blacked his +shoes--what aesthetic leaven had entered his soul that he donned not a +coat alone but also a waistcoat with checks?--and, more than _that_, a +gleaming celluloid collar?--and, more than that, a brilliant blue tie? +What had this iron youth to do with a rising excitement at train time +and brilliant blue ties? + +Also, it might have been inquired if this parade of fashion had no +connection with the simultaneous action of Mr. Ross Schofield; for +Ross was at this hour engaged in decorating the battered chairs in the +“Herald” editorial room with blue satin ribbon, the purchase of which at +the Dry Goods Emporium had been directed by a sudden inspiration of his +superior of the composing force. It was Ross's intention to garnish +each chair with an elaborately tied bow, but, as he was no sailor and +understood only the intricacies of a hard-knot, he confined himself +to that species of ornamentation, leaving, however, very long ends of +ribbon hanging down after the manner of the pendants of rosettes. + +It scarcely needs the statement that his labors were in honor of the new +editor-in-chief of the Carlow “Herald.” The advent and the purposes +of this personage were, as yet, known certainly to only those of the +“Herald” and to the Briscoes. It had been arranged, however, that Minnie +and her father were not to come to the station, for the journalistic +crisis was immoderately pressing; the “Herald” was to appear on the +morrow, and the new editor wished to plunge directly, and without the +briefest distraction, into the paper's difficulties, now accumulated +into a veritable sea of troubles. The editor was to be delivered to the +Briscoes at eventide and returned by them again at dewy morn; and +this was to be the daily programme. It had been further--and most +earnestly--stipulated that when the wounded proprietor of the ailing +journal should be informed of the addition to his forces, he was not +to know, or to have the slenderest hint of, the sex or identity of the +person in charge during his absence. It was inevitable that Plattville +(already gaping to the uttermost) would buzz voluminously over it before +night, but Judge Briscoe volunteered to prevent the buzz from reaching +Rouen. He undertook to interview whatever citizens should visit +Harkless, or write to him--when his illness permitted visits and +letters--and forewarn them of the incumbent's desires. To-day, the +judge stayed at home with his daughter, who trilled about the house +for happiness, and, in their place, the “Herald” deputation of two had +repaired to the station to act as a reception committee. + +Far away the whistle of the express was heard, muffled to sweetness in +the damp, and the drivers, whip in hand, came out upon the platform, and +the loafers issued, also, to stand under the eaves and lean their backs +against the drier boards, preparing to eye the travellers with languid +raillery. + +Mr. Parker, very nervous himself, felt the old man's elbow trembling +against his own as the great engine, reeking in the mist, and sending +great clouds of white vapor up to the sky, rushed by them, and came to a +standstill beyond the platform. + +Fisbee and the foreman made haste to the nearest vestibule, and were +gazing blankly at its barred approaches when they heard a tremulous +laugh behind them and an exclamation. + +“Upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber! Just behind you, +dear.” + +Turning quickly, Parker beheld a blushing and smiling little vision, +a vision with light-brown hair, a vision enveloped in a light-brown +rain-cloak and with brown gloves, from which the handles of a big brown +travelling bag were let fall, as the vision disappeared under the cotton +umbrella, while the smitten Judd Bennett reeled gasping against the +station. + +“Dearest,” the girl cried to the old man, “you were looking for me +between the devil and deep sea--the parlor-car and the smoker. I've +given up cigars, and I've begun to study economy, so I didn't come on +either.” + +There was but this one passenger for Plattville; two enormous trunks +thundered out of the baggage car onto the truck, and it was the work of +no more than a minute for Judd to hale them to the top of the omnibus +(he well wished to wear them next his heart, but their dimensions +forbade the thought), and immediately he cracked his whip and drove +off furiously through the mud to deposit his freight at the Briscoes'. +Parker, Mr. Fisbee, and the new editor-in-chief set forth, directly +after, in one of the waiting cut-unders, the foreman in front with the +driver, and holding the big brown bag on his knees in much the same +manner he would have held an alien, yet respected, infant. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. A RESCUE + +The drizzle and mist blew in under the top of the cut-under as they +drove rapidly into town, and bright little drops sparkled on the fair +hair above the new editor's forehead and on the long lashes above the +new editor's cheeks. + +She shook these transient gems off lightly, as she paused in the doorway +of the office at the top of the rickety stairway. Mr. Schofield had just +added the last touch to his decorations and managed to slide into +his coat as the party came up the stairs, and now, perspiring, proud, +embarrassed, he assumed an attitude at once deprecatory of his endeavors +and pointedly expectant of commendation for the results. (He was a +modest youth and a conscious; after his first sight of her, as she stood +in the doorway, it was several days before he could lift his distressed +eyes under her glance, or, indeed, dare to avail himself of more than +a hasty and fluttering stare at her when her back was turned.) As she +entered the room, he sidled along the wall and laughed sheepishly at +nothing. + +Every chair in the room was ornamented with one of his blue rosettes, +tied carefully (and firmly) to the middle slat of each chair-back. There +had been several yards of ribbon left over, and there was a hard knot +of glossy satin on each of the ink-stands and on the door-knobs; a +blue band, passing around the stovepipe, imparted an antique rakishness +suggestive of the charioteer; and a number of streamers, suspended from +a hook in the ceiling, encouraged a supposition that the employees +of the “Herald” contemplated the intricate festivities of May Day. It +needed no genius to infer that these garnitures had not embellished the +editorial chamber during Mr. Harkless's activity, but, on the contrary, +had been put in place that very morning. Mr. Fisbee had not known of +the decorations, and, as his glance fell upon them, a faint look of pain +passed over his brow; but the girl examined the room with a dancing eye, +and there were both tears and laughter in her heart. + +“How beautiful!” she cried. “How beautiful!” She crossed the room and +gave her hand to Ross. “It is Mr. Schofield, isn't it? The ribbons are +delightful. I didn't know Mr. Harkless's room was so pretty.” + +Ross looked out of the window and laughed as he took her hand (which he +shook with a long up and down motion), but he was set at better ease +by her apparent unrecognition of the fact that the decorations were for +her. “Oh, it ain't much, I reckon,” he replied, and continued to look +out of the window and laugh. + +She went to the desk and removed her gloves and laid her rain-coat over +a chair near by. “Is this Mr. Harkless's chair?” she asked, and, Fisbee +answering that it was, she looked gravely at it for a moment, passed her +hand gently over the back of it, and then, throwing the rain-cloak over +another chair, said cheerily: + +“Do you know, I think the first thing for us to do will be to dust +everything very carefully.” + +“You remember I was confident she would know precisely where to begin?” + was Fisbee's earnest whisper in the willing ear of the long foreman. +“Not an instant's indecision, was there?” + +“No, siree!” replied the other; and, as he went down to the press-room +to hunt for a feather-duster which he thought might be found there, +he collared Bud Tipworthy, who, not admitted to the conclave of his +superiors, was whistling on the rainy stairway. “You hustle and find +that dust brush we used to have. Bud,” said Parker. And presently, as +they rummaged in the nooks and crannies about the machinery, he melted +to his small assistant. “The paper is saved, Buddie--saved by an angel +in light brown. You can tell it by the look of her.” + +“Gee!” said Bud. + +Mr. Schofield had come, blushing, to join them. “Say, Cale, did you +notice the color of her eyes?” + +“Yes; they're gray.” + +“I thought so, too, show day, and at Kedge Halloway's lecture; but, say, +Cale, they're kind of changeable. When she come in upstairs with you and +Fisbee, they were jest as blue!--near matched the color of our ribbons.” + +“Gee!” repeated Mr. Tipworthy. + +When the editorial chamber had been made so Beat that it almost +glowed--though it could never be expected to shine as did Fisbee and +Caleb Parker and Ross Schofield that morning--the editor took her seat +at the desk and looked over the few items the gentlemen had already +compiled for her perusal. Mr. Parker explained many technicalities +peculiar to the Carlow “Herald,” translated some phrases of the +printing-room, and enabled her to grasp the amount of matter needed to +fill the morrow's issue. + +When Parker finished, the three incompetents sat watching the little +figure with the expression of hopeful and trusting terriers. She knit +her brow for a second--but she did not betray an instant's indecision. + +“I think we should have regular market reports,” she announced, +thoughtfully. “I am sure Mr. Harkless would approve. Don't you think he +would?” She turned to Parker. + +“Market reports!” Mr. Fisbee exclaimed. “I should never have thought of +market reports, nor, do I imagine, would either of my--my associates. A +woman to conceive the idea of market reports!” + +The editor blushed. “Why, who would, dear, if not a woman, or a +speculator, and I'm not a speculator; and neither are you, and that's +the reason you didn't think of them. So, Mr. Parker, as there is so much +pressure, and if you don't mind continuing to act as reporter as well as +compositor until after to-morrow, and if it isn't too wet--you must take +an umbrella--would it be too much bother if you went around to all the +shops--_stores_, I mean--to all the grocers', and the butchers', and +that leather place we passed, the tannery?--and if there's one of those +places where they bring cows, would it be too much to ask you to +stop there?--and at the flour-mill, if it isn't too far?--and at the +dry-goods store? And you must take a blank-book and sharpened pencil, +And will you price everything, please, and jot down how much things +are?” + +Orders received, the impetuous Parker was departing on the instant, when +she stopped him with a little cry: “But you haven't any umbrella!” + And she forced her own, a slender wand, upon him; it bore a cunningly +wrought handle and its fabric was of glistening silk. The foreman, +unable to decline it, thanked her awkwardly, and, as she turned to +speak to Fisbee, bolted out of the door and ran down the steps without +unfolding the umbrella; and as he made for Mr. Martin's emporium, he +buttoned it securely under his long “Prince Albert,” determined that +not a drop of water should touch and ruin so delicate a thing. Thus he +carried it, triumphantly dry, through the course of his reportings of +that day. + +When he had gone the editor laid her hand on Fisbee's arm. “Dear,” she +said, “do you think you would take cold if you went over to the +hotel and made a note of all the arrivals for the last week--and the +departures, too? I noticed that Mr. Harkless always filled two or +three--sticks, isn't it?--with them and things about them, and somehow +it 'read' very nicely. You must ask the landlord all about them; and, if +there aren't any, we can take up the same amount of space lamenting +the dull times, just as he used to. You see I've read the 'Herald' +faithfully; isn't it a good thing I always subscribed for it?” She +patted Fisbee's cheek, and laughed gaily into his mild, vague old eyes. + +“It won't be this scramble to 'fill up' much longer. I have plans, +gentlemen,” she cried, “and before long we will print news. And we must +buy 'plate matter' instead of 'patent insides'; and I had a talk with +the Associated Press people in Rouen--but that's for afterwhile. And I +went to the hospital this morning before I left. They wouldn't let me +see him again, but they told me all about him, and he's better; and I +got Tom to go to the jail--he was so mystified, he doesn't know what I +wanted it for--and he saw some of those beasts, and I can do a column of +description besides an editorial about them, and I will be fierce enough +to suit Carlow, you may believe that. And I've been talking to Senator +Burns--that is, listening to Senator Burns, which is much stupider--and +I think I can do an article on national politics. I'm not very well up +on local issues yet, but I--” She broke off suddenly. “There! I think we +can get out to-morrow's number without any trouble. By the time you get +back from the hotel, father, I'll have half my stuff written--'written +up,' I mean. Take your big umbrella and go, dear, and please ask at the +express office if my typewriter has come.” + +She laughed again with sheer delight, like a child, and ran to the +corner and got the cotton umbrella and placed it in the old man's hand. +As he reached the door, she called after him: “Wait!” and went to him +and knelt before him, and, with the humblest, proudest grace in the +world, turned up his trousers to keep them from the mud. Ross Schofield +had never considered Mr. Fisbee a particularly sacred sort of person, +but he did from that moment. The old man made some timid protest, at his +daughter's action, But she answered; “The great ladies used to buckle +the Chevalier Bayard's spurs for him, and you're a great deal nicer than +the Chev----_You haven't any rubbers_! I don't believe _any_ of you have +any rubbers!” And not until both Fisbee and Mr. Schofield had promised +to purchase overshoes at once, and in the meantime not to step in any +puddles, would she let her father depart upon his errand. He crossed +the Square with the strangest, jauntiest step ever seen in Plattville. +Solomon Tibbs had a warm argument with Miss Selina as to his identity. +Miss Selina maintaining that the figure under the big umbrella--only +the legs and coat-tails were visible to them--was that of a stranger, +probably an Englishman. + +In the “Herald” office the editor turned, smiling, to the paper's +remaining vassal. “Mr. Schofield, I heard some talk in Rouen of an oil +company that had been formed to prospect for kerosene in Carlow County. +Do you know anything about it?” + +Ross, surfeited with honor, terror, and possessed by a sweet distress +at finding himself tete-a-tete with the lady, looked at the wall and +replied: + +“Oh, it's that Eph Watts's foolishness.” + +“Do you know if they have begun to dig for it yet?” + +“Ma'am?” said Ross. + +“Have they begun the diggings yet?” + +“No, ma'am; I think not. They've got a contrapshun fixed up about three +mile south. I don't reckon they've begun yet, hardly; they're gittin' +the machinery in place. I heard Eph say they'd begin to bore--_dig_, I +mean, ma'am, I meant to say dig----” He stopped, utterly confused +and unhappy; and she understood his manly purpose, and knew him for a +gentleman whom she liked. + +“You mustn't be too much surprised,” she said; “but in spite of my +ignorance about such things, I mean to devote a good deal of space to +the oil company; it may come to be of great importance to Carlow. We +won't go into it in to-morrow's paper, beyond an item or so; but do you +think you could possibly find Mr. Watts and ask him for some information +as to their progress, and if it would be too much trouble for him to +call here some time to-morrow afternoon, or the day after? I want him to +give me an interview if he will. Tell him, please, he will very greatly +oblige us.” + +“Oh, he'll come all right,” answered her companion, quickly. “I'll +take Tibbs's buggy and go down there right off. Eph won't lose no time +gittin' _here_!” And with this encouraging assurance he was flying +forth, when he, like the others, was detained by her solicitous care. +She was a born mother. He protested that in the buggy he would be +perfectly sheltered; besides, there wasn't another umbrella about the +place; he _liked_ to get wet, anyway; had always loved rain. The end +of it was that he went away in a sort of tremor, wearing her rain-cloak +over his shoulders, which garment, as it covered its owner completely +when she wore it, hung almost to his knees. He darted around a corner; +and there, breathing deeply, tenderly removed it; then, borrowing paper +and cord at a neighboring store, wrapped it neatly, and stole back to +the printing-office on the ground floor of the “Herald” building, and +left the package in charge of Bud Tipworthy, mysteriously charging him +to care for it as for his own life, and not to open it, but if the lady +so much as set one foot out of doors before his return, to hand it to +her with the message: “He borrowed another off J. Hankins.” + +Left alone, the lady went to the desk and stood for a time looking +gravely at Harkless's chair. She touched it gently, as she had touched +it once before that morning, and then she spoke to it as if he were +sitting there, and as she would not have spoken, had he been sitting +there. + +“You didn't want gratitude, did you?” she whispered, with sad lips. + +Soon she smiled at the blue ribbons, patted the chair gaily on the back, +and, seizing upon pencil and pad, dashed into her work with rare energy. +She bent low over the desk, her pencil moving rapidly, and, except for +a momentary interruption from Mr. Tipworthy, she seemed not to pause for +breath; certainly her pencil did not. She had covered many sheets when +her father returned; and, as he came in softly, not to disturb her, she +was so deeply engrossed she did not hear him; nor did she look up when +Parker entered, but pursued the formulation of her fast-flying ideas +with the same single purpose and abandon; so the two men sat and waited +while their chieftainess wrote absorbedly. At last she glanced up and +made a little startled exclamation at seeing them there, and then gave +them cheery greeting. Each placed several scribbled sheets before +her, and she, having first assured herself that Fisbee had bought his +overshoes, and having expressed a fear that Mr. Parker had found her +umbrella too small, as he looked damp (and indeed he _was_ damp), cried +praises on their notes and offered the reporters great applause. + +“It is all so splendid!” she cried. “How could you do it so quickly? And +in the rain, too! This is exactly what we need. I've done most of +the things I mentioned, I think, and made a draught of some plans for +hereafter. And about that man's coming out for Congress, I must tell you +it is my greatest hope that he will. We can let it go until he does, and +then----But doesn't it seem to you that it would be a good notion for +the 'Herald' to have a woman's page--'For Feminine Readers,' or, 'Of +Interest to Women'--once a week?” + +“A woman's page!” exclaimed Fisbee. “I could never have thought of that, +could you, Mr. Parker?” + +“And now,” she continued, “I think that when I've gone over what I've +written and beat it into better shape I shall be ready for something to +eat. Isn't it almost time for luncheon?” + +This simple, and surely natural, inquiry had a singular, devastating +effect upon her hearers. They looked upon each other with fallen jaws +and complete stupefaction. The old man began to grow pale, and Parker +glared about him with a wild eye. Fortunately, the editor was too busy +at her work to notice their agitation; she applied herself to making +alterations here and there, sometimes frowningly crossing out whole +lines and even paragraphs, sometimes smiling and beaming at the writing; +and, as she bent earnestly over the paper, against the darkness of the +rainy day, the glamour about her fair hair was like a light in the +room. To the minds of her two companions, this lustre was a gentle but +unbearable accusation; and each dreaded the moment when her Work +should be finished, with a great dread. There was a small “store-room” + adjoining the office, and presently Mr. Parker, sweating at the brow, +walked in there. The old man gave him a look of despairing reproach, but +in a moment the foreman's voice was heard: “Oh, Mr. Fisbee, can you step +here a second?” + +“Yes, indeed!” was Fisbee's reply; and he fled guiltily into the +“store-room,” and Parker closed the door. They stood knee-deep in the +clutter and lumber, facing each other abjectly. + +“Well, we're both done, anyway, Mr. Fisbee,” remarked the foreman. + +“Indubitably, Mr. Parker,” the old man answered; “it is too true.” + +“Never to think a blame thing about dinner for her!” Parker continued, +remorsefully. “And her a lady that can turn off copy like a rotary +snowplough in a Dakota blizzard! Did you see the sheets she's piled up +on that desk?” + +“There is no cafe--nothing--in Plattville, that could prepare food +worthy of her,” groaned Fisbee. “Nothing!” + +“And we never thought of it. Never made a single arrangement. Never +struck us she didn't live on keeping us dry and being good, I guess.” + +“How can I go there and tell her that?” + +“Lord!” + +“She cannot go to the hotel----” + +“Well, I guess not! It ain't fit for her. Lum's table is hard enough +on a strong man. Landis doesn't know a good cake from a Fiji missionary +pudding. I don't expect pie is much her style, and, besides, the Palace +Hotel pies--well!--the boss was a mighty uncomplaining man, but I +used to notice his articles on field drainage got kind of sour and +low-spirited when they'd been having more than the regular allowance of +pie for dinner. She can't go there anyway; it's no use; it's after two +o'clock, and the dining-room shuts off at one. I wonder what kind of +cake she likes best.” + +“I don't know,” said the perplexed Fisbee. “If we ask her--” + +“If we could sort of get it out of her diplomatically, we could +telegraph to Rouen for a good one.” + +“Ha!” said the other, brightening up. “You try it, Mr. Parker. I fear I +have not much skill in diplomacy, but if you----” + +The compositor's mouth drooped at the corners, and he interrupted +gloomily: “But it wouldn't get here till to-morrow.” + +“True; it would not.” + +They fell into a despondent reverie, with their chins in their bosoms. +There came a cheerful voice from the next room, but to them it brought +no cheer; in their ears it sounded weak from the need of food and faint +with piteous reproach. + +“Father, aren't you coming to have luncheon with me?” + +“Mr. Parker, what are we to do?” whispered the old man, hoarsely. + +“Is it too far to take her to Briscoes'?” + +“In the rain?” + +“Take her with you to Tibbs's.” + +“Their noon meal is long since over; and their larder is not--is +not--extensive.” + +“Father!” called the girl. She was stirring; they could hear her moving +about the room. + +“You've got to go in and tell her,” said the foreman, desperately, and +together they stumbled into the room. A small table at one end of it was +laid with a snowy cloth and there was a fragrance of tea, and, amidst +various dainties, one caught a glimpse of cold chicken and lettuce +leaves. Fisbee stopped, dumfounded, but the foreman, after stammeringly +declining an invitation to partake, alleging that his own meal awaited, +sped down to the printing-room, and seized upon Bud Tipworthy with a +heavy hand. + +“Where did all that come from, up there?” + +“Leave go me! _What_ 'all that'?” + +“All that tea and chicken and salad and wafers--all kinds of things; +sardines, for all I know!” + +“They come in Briscoes' buckboard while you was gone. Briscoes sent 'em +in a basket; I took 'em up and she set the basket under the table. You'd +seen it if you'd 'a' looked. _Quit_ that!” And it was unjust to cuff the +perfectly innocent and mystified Bud, and worse not to tell him what the +punishment was for. + +Before the day was over, system had been introduced, and the “Herald” + was running on it: and all that warm, rainy afternoon, the editor and +Fisbee worked in the editorial rooms, Parker and Bud and Mr. Schofield +(after his return with the items and a courteous message from Ephraim +Watts) bent over the forms downstairs, and Uncle Xenophon was cleaning +the store-room and scrubbing the floor. + +An extraordinary number of errands took the various members of the +printing force up to see the editor-in-chief, literally to see the +editor-in-chief; it was hard to believe that the presence had not +flown--hard to keep believing, without the repeated testimony of sight, +that the dingy room upstairs was actually the setting for their jewel; +and a jewel they swore she was. The printers came down chuckling and +gurgling after each interview; it was partly the thought that she +belonged to the “Herald,” _their_ paper. Once Ross, as he cut down one +of the temporarily distended advertisements, looked up and caught the +foreman giggling to himself. + +“What in the name of common-sense you laughin' at, Cale?” he asked. + +“What are _you_ laughing at?” rejoined the other. + +“I dunno!” + +The day wore on, wet and dreary outside, but all within the “Herald's” + bosom was snug and busy and murmurous with the healthy thrum of life +and prosperity renewed. Toward six o'clock, system accomplished, the new +guiding-spirit was deliberating on a policy as Harkless would conceive +a policy, were he there, when Minnie Briscoe ran joyously up the stairs, +plunged into the room, waterproofed and radiant, and caught her friend +in her eager arms, and put an end to policy for that day. + +But policy and labor did not end at twilight every day; there were +evenings, as in the time of Harkless, when lamps shone from the upper +windows of the “Herald” building. For the little editor worked hard, +and sometimes she worked late; she always worked early. She made some +mistakes at first, and one or two blunders which she took more seriously +than any one else did. But she found a remedy for all such results of +her inexperience, and she developed experience. She set at her task with +the energy of her youthfulness and no limit to her ambition, and she +felt that Harkless had prepared the way for a wide expansion of the +paper's interests; wider than he knew. She had a belief that there were +possibilities for a country newspaper, and she brought a fresh point of +view to operate in a situation where Harkless had fallen, perhaps, too +much in the rut; and she watched every chance with a keen eye and looked +ahead of her with clear foresight. What she waited and yearned for and +dreaded, was the time when a copy of the new “Herald” should be placed +in the trembling hands of the man who lay in the Rouen hospital. Then, +she felt, if he, unaware of her identity, should place everything in her +hands unreservedly, that would be a tribute to her work--and how hard +she would labor to deserve it! After a time, she began to realize that, +as his representative and the editor of the “Herald,” she had become +a factor in district politics. It took her breath--but with a gasp of +delight, for there was something she wanted to do. + +Above all, she brought a light heart to her work. One evening in the +latter part of that first week of the new regime, Parker perceived Bud +Tipworthy standing in the doorway of the printing-room, beckoning him +silently to come without. + +“What's the matter, Buddie?” + +“Listen. She's singin' over her work.” + +Parker stepped outside. On the pavement, people had stopped to listen; +they stood in the shadow, looking up with parted lips at the open, +lighted Windows, whence came a clear, soft, reaching voice, lifted in +song; now it swelled louder, unconsciously; now its volume was more +slender and it melted liquidly into the night; again, it trembled and +rose and dwelt in the ear, strong and pure; and, hearing it, you sighed +with unknown longings. It was the “Angels' Serenade.” + +Bud Tipworthy's sister, Cynthia, was with him, and Parker saw that she +turned from the window and that she was crying, quietly; she put her +hand on the boy's shoulder and patted it with a forlorn gesture which, +to the foreman's eye, was as graceful as it was sad. He moved closer to +Bud and his big hand fell on Cynthia's brother's other shoulder, as he +realized that red hair could look pretty sometimes; and he wondered why +the editor's singing made Cynthy cry; and at the same time he decided +to be mighty good to Bud henceforth. The spell of night and song was +on him; that and something more; for it is a strange, inexplicable +fact that the most practical chief ever known to the “Herald” had a +singularly sentimental influence over her subordinates, from the moment +of her arrival. Under Harkless's domination there had been no more +steadfast bachelors in Carlow than Ross Schofield and Caleb Parker, and, +like timorous youths in a graveyard, daring and mocking the ghosts in +order to assuage their own fears, they had so jibed and jeered at the +married state that there was talk of urging the minister to preach at +them; but now let it be recorded that at the moment Caleb laid his hand +on Bud's other shoulder, his associate, Mr. Schofield, was enjoying a +walk in the far end of town with a widow, and it is not to be doubted +that Mr. Tipworthy's heart, also, was no longer in his possession, +though, as it was after eight o'clock, the damsel of his desire had +probably long since retired to her couch. + +For some faint light on the cause of these spells, we must turn to a +comment made by the invaluable Mr. Martin some time afterward. Referring +to the lady to whose voice he was now listening in silence (which shows +how great the enthralling of her voice was), he said: “When you saw her, +or heard her, or managed to be around, any, where she was, why, if +you couldn't git up no hope of marryin' _her_, you wanted to marry +_somebody_.” + +Mr. Lige Willetts, riding idly by, drew rein in front of the lighted +windows, and listened with the others. Presently he leaned from his +horse and whispered to a man near him: + +“I know that song.” + +“Do you?” whispered the other. + +“Yes; he and I heard her sing it, the night he was shot.” + +“So!” + +“Yes, sir. It's by Beethoven.” + +“Is it?” + +“It's a seraphic song,” continued Lige. + +“No!” exclaimed his friend; then, shaking his head, he sighed: “Well, +it's mighty sweet.” + +The song was suddenly woven into laughter in the unseen chamber, and the +lights in the windows went out, and a small lady and a tall lady and +a thin old man, all three laughing and talking happily, came down and +drove off in the Briscoe buckboard. The little crowd dispersed quietly; +Lige Willetts plucked to his horse and cantered away to overtake the +buckboard; William Todd took his courage between his teeth, and, the +song ringing in his ears, made a desperate resolve to call upon Miss +Bardlock that evening, in spite of its being a week day, and Caleb +Parker gently and stammeringly asked Cynthia if she would wait till he +shut up the shop, and let him walk home with her and Bud. + +Soon the Square was quiet as before, and there was naught but peace +under the big stars of July. + +That day the news had come that Harkless, after weeks of alternate +improvement and relapse, hazardously lingering in the borderland of +shadows, had passed the crucial point and was convalescent. His recovery +was assured. But from their first word of him, from the message that he +was found and was alive, none of the people of Carlow had really doubted +it. They are simple country people, and they know that God is good. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. NETTLES + +Two men who have been comrades and classmates at the Alma Mater of John +Harkless and Tom Meredith; two who have belonged to the same dub and +roomed in the same entry; who have pooled their clothes and money in +a common stock for either to draw on; who have shared the fortunes +of athletic war, triumphing together, sometimes with an intense +triumphancy; two men who were once boys getting hazed together, hazing +in no unkindly fashion in their turn, always helping each other to stuff +brains the night before an examination and to blow away the suffocating +statistics like foam the night after; singing, wrestling, dancing, +laughing, succeeding together, through the four kindest years of life; +two such brave companions, meeting in the after years, are touchingly +tender and caressive of each other, but the tenderness takes the shy, +United States form of insulting epithets, and the caresses are blows. If +John Harkless had been in health, uninjured and prosperous, Tom Meredith +could no more have thrown himself on his knees beside him and called him +“old friend” than he could have danced on the slack-wire. + +One day they thought the patient sleeping; the nurse fanned him softly, +and Meredith had stolen in and was sitting by the cot. One of Harkless's +eyes had been freed of the bandage, and, when Tom came in, it was +closed; but, by and by, Meredith became aware that the unbandaged eye +had opened and that it was suffused with a pathetic moisture; yet it +twinkled with a comprehending light, and John knew that it was his old +Tom Meredith who was sitting beside him, with the air of having sat +there very often before. But this bald, middle-aged young man, not +without elegance, yet a prosperous burgher for all that--was _this_ the +slim, rollicking broth of a boy whose thick auburn hair used to make one +streak of flame as he spun around the bases on a home run? Without doubt +it was the stupendous fact, wrought by the alchemy of seven years. + +For, though seven years be a mere breath in the memories of the old, it +is a long transfiguration to him whose first youth is passing, and who +finds unsolicited additions accruing to some parts of his being and +strange deprivations in others, and upon whom the unhappy realization +begins to be borne in, that his is no particular case, and that he +of all the world is not to be spared, but, like his forbears, must +inevitably wriggle in the disguising crucible of time. And, though men +accept it with apparently patient humor, the first realization that +people do grow old, and that they do it before they have had time to be +young, is apt to come like a shock. + +Perhaps not even in the interminable months of Carlow had Harkless +realized the length of seven years so keenly as he did when he beheld +his old friend at his bedside. How men may be warped apart in seven +years, especially in the seven years between twenty-three and thirty! At +the latter age you may return to the inseparable of seven years before +and speak not the same language; you find no heartiness to carry on with +each other after half an hour. Not so these classmates, who had known +each other to the bone. + +Ah, yes, it was Tom Meredith, the same lad, in spite of his masquerade +of flesh; and Helen was right: Tom had not forgotten. + +“It's the old horse-thief!” John murmured, tremulously. + +“You go plumb to thunder,” answered Meredith between gulps. + + +When he was well enough, they had long talks; and at other times +Harkless lay by the window, and breathed deep of the fresh air, while +Meredith attended to his correspondence for him, and read the papers +to him. But there was one phenomenon of literature the convalescent +insisted upon observing for himself, and which he went over again and +again, to the detriment of his single unswathed eye, and this was the +Carlow “Herald.” + +The first letter he had read to him was one from Fisbee stating that the +crippled forces left in charge had found themselves almost distraught in +their efforts to carry on the paper (as their chief might conclude for +himself on perusal of the issues of the first fortnight of his absence), +and they had made bold to avail themselves of the services of a young +relative of the writer's from a distant city--a capable journalist, +who had no other employment for the present, and who had accepted the +responsibilities of the “Herald” temporarily. There followed a note from +Parker, announcing that Mr. Fisbee's relative was a bird, and was the +kind to make the “Herald” hum. They hoped Mr. Harkless would approve +of their bespeaking the new hand on the sheet; the paper must have +suspended otherwise. Harkless, almost overcome by his surprise that +Fisbee possessed a relative, dictated a hearty and grateful indorsement +of their action, and, soon after, received a typewritten rejoinder, +somewhat complicated in the reading, because of the numerous type +errors and their corrections. The missive was signed “H. Fisbee,” in +a strapping masculine hand that suggested six feet of enterprise and +muscle spattering ink on its shirt sleeves. + +John groaned and fretted over the writhings of the “Herald's” headless +fortnight, but, perusing the issues produced under the domination of H. +Fisbee, he started now and then, and chuckled at some shrewd felicities +of management, or stared, puzzled, over an oddity, but came to a feeling +of vast relief; and, when the question of H. Fisbee's salary was settled +and the tenancy assured, he sank into a repose of mind. H. Fisbee might +be an eccentric fellow, but he knew his business, and, apparently, +he knew something of other business as well, for he wrote at length +concerning the Carlow oil fields, urging Harkless to take shares in Mr. +Watts's company while the stock was very low, two wells having been +sunk without satisfactory results. H. Fisbee explained with exceeding +technicality his reasons for believing that the third well would strike +oil. + +But with his ease of mind regarding the “Herald,” Harkless found himself +possessed by apathy. He fretted no longer to get back to Plattville. +With the prospect of return it seemed an emptiness glared at him from +hollow sockets, and the thought of the dreary routine he must follow +when he went back gave him the same faint nausea he had felt the evening +after the circus. And, though it was partly the long sweat of anguish +which had benumbed him, his apathy was pierced, at times, by a bodily +horror of the scene of his struggle. At night he faced the grotesque +masks of the Cross-Roads men and the brutal odds again; over and over +he felt the blows, and clapped his hand to where the close fire of Bob +Skillett's pistol burned his body. + +And, except for the release from pain, he rejoiced less and less in +his recovery. He remembered a tedious sickness of his childhood and +how beautiful he had thought the world, when he began to get well, how +electric the open air blowing in at the window, how green the smile of +earth, and how glorious to live and see the open day again. He had none +of that feeling now. No pretty vision came again near his bed, and he +beheld his convalescence as a mistake. He had come to a jumping-off +place in his life--why had they not let him jump? What was there left +but the weary plod, plod, and dust of years? + +He could have gone back to Carlow in better spirit if it had not been +for the few dazzling hours of companionship which had transformed it to +a paradise, but, gone, left a desert. She, by the sight of her, had made +him wish to live, and now, that he saw her no more, she made him wish +to die. How little she had cared for him, since she told him she did +not care, when he had not meant to ask her. He was weary, and at last he +longed to find the line of least resistance and follow it; he had done +hard things for a long time, but now he wanted to do something easy. +Under the new genius--who was already urging that the paper should +be made a daily--the “Herald” could get along without him; and the +“White-Caps” would bother Carlow no longer; and he thought that Kedge +Halloway, an honest man, if a dull one, was sure to be renominated for +Congress at the district convention which was to meet at Plattville in +September--these were his responsibilities, and they did not fret him. +Everything was all right. There was only one thought which thrilled him: +his impression that she had come to the hospital to see him was not a +delusion; she had really been there--as a humane, Christian person, +he said to himself. One day he told Meredith of his vision, and Tom +explained that it was no conjuration of fever. + +“But I thought she'd gone abroad,” said Harkless, staring. + +“They had planned to,” answered his friend. “They gave it up for some +reason. Uncle Henry decided that he wasn't strong enough for the trip, +or something.” + +“Then--is she--is she here?” + +“No; Helen is never here in summer. When she came back from Plattville, +she went north, somewhere, to join people she had promised, I think.” + Meredith had as yet no inkling or suspicion that his adopted cousin had +returned to Plattville. What he told Harkless was what his aunt had told +him, and he accepted it as the truth. + +Mrs. Sherwood (for she was both Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood) had always +considered Fisbee an enigmatic rascal, and she regarded Helen's +defection to him in the light of a family scandal to be hushed up, as +well as a scalding pain to be borne. Some day the unkind girl-errant +would “return to her wisdom and her duty”; meanwhile, the less known +about it the better. + +Meredith talked very little to Harkless of his cousin, beyond lightly +commenting on the pleasure and oddity of their meeting, and telling +him of her friendly anxiety about his recovery; he said she had perfect +confidence from the first that he would recover. Harkless had said a +word or two in his delirium and a word or two out of it, and these, +with once a sudden brow of suffering, and a difference Meredith felt in +Helen's manner when they stood together by the sick man's bedside, had +given the young man a strong impression, partly intuitive, that in spite +of the short time the two had known each other, something had happened +between them at Plattville, and he ventured a guess which was not far +from the truth. Altogether, the thing was fairly plain--a sad lover +is not so hard to read--and Meredith was sorry, for they were the two +people he liked best on earth. + +The young man carried his gay presence daily to the hospital, where +Harkless now lay in a pleasant room of his own, and he tried to keep +his friend cheery, which was an easy matter on the surface, for the +journalist turned ever a mask of jokes upon him; but it was not hard +for one who liked him as Meredith did to see through to the melancholy +underneath. After his one reference to Helen, John was entirely silent +of her, and Meredith came to feel that both would be embarrassed if +occasion should rise and even her name again be mentioned between them. + +He did not speak of his family connection with Mr. Fisbee to the +invalid, for, although the connection was distant, the old man was, in a +way, the family skeleton, and Meredith had a strong sense of the decency +of reserve in such a matter. There was one thing Fisbee's shame had made +the old man unable not to suppress when he told Parker his story; the +wraith of a torrid palate had pursued him from his youth, and the days +of drink and despair from which Harkless had saved him were not the +first in his life. Meredith wondered as much as did Harkless where +Fisbee had picked up the journalistic “young relative” who signed his +extremely business-like missives in such a thundering hand. It was +evident that the old man was grateful to his patron, but it did not +occur to Meredith that Fisbee's daughter might have an even stronger +sense of gratitude, one so strong that she could give all her young +strength to work for the man who had been good to her father. + +There came a day in August when Meredith took the convalescent from the +hospital in a victoria, and installed him in his own home. Harkless's +clothes hung on his big frame limply; however, there was a drift of +light in his eyes as they drove slowly through the pretty streets of +Rouen. The bandages and splints and drugs and swathings were all gone +now, and his sole task was to gather strength. The thin face was sallow +no longer; it was the color of evening shadows; indeed he lay among the +cushions seemingly no more than a gaunt shadow of the late afternoon, +looking old and gray and weary. They rolled along abusing each other, +John sometimes gratefully threatening his friend with violence. + +The victoria passed a stone house with wide lawns and an inhospitable +air of wealth and importunate rank; over the sward two peacocks swung, +ambulating like caravals in a green sea; and one expected a fine lady to +come smiling and glittering from the door. Oddly enough, though he +had never seen the place before, it struck Harkless with a sense of +familiarity. “Who lives there?” he asked abruptly. + +“Who lives there? On the left? Why that--that is the Sherwood place,” + Meredith answered, in a tone which sounded as if he were not quite sure +of it, but inclined to think his information correct. Harkless relapsed +into silence. + +Meredith's home was a few blocks further up the same street; a capacious +house in the Western fashion of the Seventies. In front, on the lawn, +there was a fountain with a leaping play of water; maples and shrubbery +were everywhere; and here and there stood a stiff sentinel of Lombardy +poplar. It was all cool and incongruous and comfortable; and, on the +porch, sheltered from publicity by a multitude of palms and flowering +plants, a white-jacketed negro appeared with a noble smile and a more +important tray, whereon tinkled bedewed glasses and a crystal pitcher, +against whose sides the ice clinked sweetly. There was a complement of +straws. + +When they had helped him to an easy chair on the porch, Harkless +whistled luxuriously. “Ah, my bachelor!” he exclaimed, as he selected a +straw. + +“'Who would fardels bear?'” rejoined Mr. Meredith. Then came to the +other a recollection of an auburn-haired ball player on whom the third +strike had once been called while his eyes wandered tenderly to the +grandstand, where the prettiest girl of that commencement week was +sitting. + +“Have you forgot the 'Indian Princess'?” he asked. + +“You're a dull old person,” Tom laughed. “Haven't you discovered that +'tis they who forget us? And why shouldn't they? Do _we_ remember +well?--anybody except just us two, I mean, of course.” + +“I've a notion we do, sometimes.” + +The other set his glass on the tray, and lit his cigarette. “Yes; when +we're unsuccessful. Then I think we do.” + +“That may be true.” + +“Of course it is. If a lady wishes to make an impression on me that is +worth making, let her let me make none on her.” + +“You think it is always our vanity?” + +“Analyze it as your revered Thomas does and you shall reach the same +conclusion. Let a girl reject you and--” Meredith broke off, cursing +himself inwardly, and, rising, cried gaily: “What profiteth it a man +if he gain the whole wisdom in regard to women and loseth not his own +heart? And neither of us is lacking a heart--though it may be; one can't +tell, one's self; one has to find out about that from some girl. At +least, I'm rather sure of mine; it's difficult to give a tobacco-heart +away; it's drugged on the market. I'm going to bring out the dogs; I'm +spending the summer at home just to give them daily exercise.” + +This explanation of his continued presence in Rouen struck John as +quite as plausible as Meredith's more seriously alleged reasons for not +joining his mother and sister, at Winter Harbor. (He possessed a mother, +and, as he explained, he had also sisters to satiety, in point of +numbers.) Harkless knew that Tom had stayed to look after him; and he +thought there never was so poor a peg as himself whereon to hang +the warm mantle of such a friendship. He knew that other mantles of +affection and kindliness hung on that self-same peg, for he had been +moved by the letters and visits from Carlow people, and he had heard +the story of their descent upon the hospital, and of the march on the +Cross-Roads. Many a good fellow, too, had come to see him during his +better days--from Judge Briscoe, openly tender and solicitous, to the +embarrassed William Todd, who fiddled at his hat and explained that, +being as he was in town on business (a palpable fiction) he thought he'd +look in to see if “they was any word would wish to be sent down to our +city.” The good will the sick man had from every one touched him, and +made him feel unworthy, and he could see nothing he had done to deserve +it. Mr. Meredith could (and would not--openly, at least) have explained +to him that it made not a great deal of difference what he did; it was +what people thought he was. + +His host helped him upstairs after dinner, and showed him the room +prepared for his occupancy. Harkless sank, sighing with weakness, into a +deep chair, and Meredith went to a window-seat and stretched himself out +for a smoke and chat. + +“Doesn't it beat your time,” he said, cheerily, “to think of what's +become of all the old boys? They turn up so differently from what we +expected, when they turn up at all. We sized them up all right so far +as character goes, I fancy, but we couldn't size up the chances of +life. Take poor old Pickle Haines: who'd have dreamed Pickle would shoot +himself over a bankruptcy? I dare say that wasn't all of it--might have +been cherchez la femme, don't you think? What do you make of Pickle's +case, John?” + +There was no answer. Harkless's chair was directly in front of the +mantel-piece, and upon the carved wooden shelf, amongst tobacco-jars +and little curios, cotillion favors and the like, there were scattered +a number of photographs. One of these was that of a girl who looked +straight out at you from a filigree frame; there was hardly a corner +of the room where you could have stood without her clear, serious eyes +seeming to rest upon yours. + +“Cherchez la femme?” repeated Tom, puffing unconsciously. “Pickle was +a good fellow, but he had the deuce of an eye for a girl. Do you +remember--” He stopped short, and saw the man and the photograph looking +at each other. Too late, he unhappily remembered that he had meant, and +forgotten, to take that photograph out of the room before he brought +Harkless in. Now he would have to leave it; and Helen Sherwood was not +the sort of girl, even in a flat presentment, to be continually thrown +in the face of a man who had lost her. And it always went hard, Tom +reflected, with men who stretched vain hands to Helen, only to lose her. +But there was one, he thought, whose outstretched hands might not prove +so vain. Why couldn't she have cared for John Harkless? Deuce take +the girl, did she want to marry an emperor? He looked at Harkless, and +pitied him with an almost tearful compassion. A feverish color dwelt in +the convalescent's cheek; the apathy that had dulled his eyes was there +no longer; instead, they burned with a steady fire. The image returned +his unwavering gaze with inscrutable kindness. + +“You heard that Pickle shot himself, didn't you?” Meredith asked. There +was no answer; John did not hear him. + +“Do you know that poor Jeny Haines killed himself, last March?” Tom said +sharply. + +There was only silence in the room. Meredith got up and rattled some +tongs in the empty fireplace, but the other did not move or notice him +in any way. + +Meredith set the tongs down, and went quietly out of the room, leaving +his friend to that mysterious interview. + +When he came back, after a remorseful cigarette in the yard, Harkless +was still sitting, motionless, looking up at the photograph above the +mantel-piece. + + + +They drove abroad every day, at first in the victoria, and, as +Harkless's strength began to come back, in a knock-about cart of Tom's, +a light trail of blue smoke floating back wherever the two friends +passed. And though the country editor grew stronger in the pleasant, +open city, Meredith felt that his apathy and listlessness only deepened, +and he suspected that, in Harkless's own room, where the photograph +reigned, the languor departed for the time, making way for a destructive +fire. Judge Briscoe, paying a second visit to Rouen, told Tom, in an +aside, that their friend did not seem to be the same man. He was altered +and aged beyond belief, the old gentleman whispered sadly. + +Meredith decided that his guest needed enlivening--something to take him +out of himself; he must be stirred up to rub against people once more. +And therefore, one night he made a little company for him: two or three +apparently betrothed very young couples, for whom it was rather dull, +after they had looked their fill of Harkless (it appeared that every one +was curious to see him); and three or four married young couples, for +whom the entertainment seemed rather diverting in an absent-minded way +(they had the air of remembering that they had forgotten the baby); and +three or four bachelors, who seemed contented in any place where they +were allowed to smoke; and one widower, whose manner indicated that any +occasion whatever was gay enough for him; and four or five young women, +who (Meredith explained to John) were of their host's age, and had been +“left over” out of the set he grew up with; and for these the modest +party took on a hilarious and chipper character. “It is these girls that +have let the men go by because they didn't see any good enough; they're +the jolly souls!” the one widower remarked, confidentially. “They've +been at it a long while, and they know how, and they're light-hearted as +robins. They have more fun than people who have responsibilities.” + +All of these lively demoiselles fluttered about Harkless with +commiserative pleasantries, and, in spite of his protestations, made +him recline in the biggest and deepest chair on the porch, where they +surfeited him with kindness and grouped about him with extra cushions +and tenderness for a man who had been injured. No one mentioned the fact +that he had been hurt; it was not spoken of, though they wished mightily +he would tell them the story they had read luridly in the public prints. +They were very good to him. One of them, in particular, a handsome, +dark, kind-eyed girl, constituted herself at once his cicerone in Rouen +gossip and his waiting-maid. She sat by him, and saw that his needs (and +his not-needs, too) were supplied and oversupplied; she could not let +him move, and anticipated his least wish, though he was now amply able +to help himself; and she fanned him as if he were a dying consumptive. + +They sat on Meredith's big porch in the late twilight and ate a +substantial refection, and when this was finished, a buzz of nonsense +rose from all quarters, except the remote corners where the youthful +affianced ones had defensively stationed themselves behind a rampart of +plants. They, having eaten, had naught to do, and were only waiting +a decent hour for departure. Laughing voices passed up and down the +street, and mingled with the rhythmic plashing of Meredith's fountain, +and, beyond the shrubberies and fence, one caught glimpses of the light +dresses of women moving to and fro, and of people sitting bareheaded on +neighboring lawns to enjoy the twilight. Now and then would pass, with +pipe and dog, the beflanneled figure of an undergraduate, home for +vacation, or a trio of youths in knickerbockers, or a band of young +girls, or both trio and band together; and from a cross street, near by, +came the calls and laughter of romping children and the pulsating +whirr of a lawn-mower: This sound Harkless remarked as a ceaseless +accompaniment to life in Rouen; even in the middle of the night there +was always some unfortunate, cutting grass. + +When the daylight was all gone, and the stars had crept out, strolling +negroes patrolled the sidewalks, thrumming mandolins and guitars, and +others came and went, singing, making the night Venetian. The untrained, +joyous voices, chording eerily in their sweet, racial minors, came on +the air, sometimes from far away. But there swung out a chorus from +fresh, Aryan throats, in the house south of Meredith's: + + “Where, oh where, are the grave old Seniors? + Safe, now, in the wide, wide world!” + +“Doesn't that thrill you, boy?” said Meredith, joining the group about +Harkless's chair. “Those fellows are Sophomores, class of heaven knows +what. _Aren't_ you feeling a fossil. Father Abraham?” + +A banjo chattered on the lawn to the north, and soon a mixed chorus of +girls and boys sang from there: + + “O, 'Arriet, I'm waiting, waiting alone out 'ere.” + +Then a piano across the street sounded the dearthful harmonies of +Chopin's Funeral March. + +“You may take your choice,” remarked Meredith, flicking a spark over the +rail in the ash of his cigar, “Chopping or Chevalier.” + +“Chopin, my friend,” said the lady who had attached herself to +Harkless. She tapped Tom's shoulder with her fan and smiled, graciously +corrective. + +“Thank you, Miss Hinsdale,” he answered, gratefully. “And as I, perhaps, +had better say, since otherwise there might be a pause and I am the +host, we have a wide selection. In addition to what is provided at +present, I predict that within the next ten minutes a talented girl who +lives two doors south will favor us with the Pilgrims' Chorus, piano +arrangement, break down in the middle, and drift, into 'Rastus on +Parade,' while a double quartette of middle-aged colored gentlemen under +our Jim will make choral offering in our own back yard.” + +“My dear Tom,” exclaimed Miss Hinsdale, “you forget Wetherford Swift!” + +“I could stand it all,” put forth the widower, “if it were not for +Wetherford Swift.” + +“When is Miss Sherwood coming home?” asked one of the ladies. “Why does +she stay away and leave him to his sufferings?” + +“Us to his sufferings,” substituted a bachelor. “He is just beginning; +listen.” + +Through all the other sounds of music, there penetrated from an unseen +source, a sawish, scraped, vibration of catgut, pathetic, insistent, +painstaking, and painful beyond belief. + +“He is in a terrible way to-night,” said the widower. + +Miss Hinsdale laughed. “Worse every night. The violinist is young +Wetherford Swift,” she explained to Harkless. “He is very much in love, +and it doesn't agree with him. He used to be such a pleasant boy, +but last winter he went quite mad over Helen Sherwood, Mr. Meredith's +cousin, our beauty, you know--I am so sorry she isn't here; you'd be +interested in meeting her, I'm sure--and he took up the violin.” + +“It is said that his family took up chloroform at the same time,” said +the widower. + +“His music is a barometer,” continued the lady, “and by it the +neighborhood nightly observes whether Miss Sherwood has been nice to him +or not.” + +“It is always exceedingly plaintive,” explained another. + +“Except once,” rejoined Miss Hinsdale. “He played jigs when she came +home from somewhere or other, in June.” + +“It was Tosti's 'Let Me Die,' the very next evening,” remarked the +widower. + +“Ah,” said one of the bachelors, “but his joy was sadder for us than his +misery. Hear him now.” + +“I think he means it for 'What's this dull town to me,'” observed +another, with some rancor. “I would willingly make the town sufficiently +exciting for him--” + +“If there were not an ordinance against the hurling of missiles,” + finished the widower. + +The piano executing the funeral march ceased to execute, discomfited by +the persistent and overpowering violin; the banjo and the coster-songs +were given over; even the collegians' music was defeated; and the +neighborhood was forced to listen to the dauntless fiddle, but not +without protest, for there came an indignant, spoken chorus from the +quarter whence the college songs had issued: “Ya-a-ay! Wetherford, put +it away! _She'll_ come back!” The violin played on. + +“We all know each other here, you see, Mr. Harkless,” Miss Hinsdale +smiled benignantly. + +“They didn't bother Mr. Wetherford Swift,” said the widower. “Not that +time. Do you hear him?--'Could ye come back to me, Douglas'?” + +“Oh, but it isn't absence that is killing him and his friends,” cried +one of the young women. “It is Brainard Macauley.” + +“That is a mistake,” said Tom Meredith, as easily as he could. “There +goes Jim's double quartette. Listen, and you will hear them try to----” + +But the lady who had mentioned Brainard Macauley cried indignantly: “You +try to change the subject the moment it threatens to be interesting. +They were together everywhere until the day she went away; they danced +and 'sat out' together through the whole of one country-club party; +they drove every afternoon; they took long walks, and he was at the +Sherwoods' every evening of her last week in town. 'That is a mistake!'” + +“I'm afraid it looks rather bleak for Wetherford,” said the widower. “I +went up to the 'Journal' office on business, one day, and there sat Miss +Sherwood in Macauley's inner temple, chatting with a reporter, while +Brainard finished some work.” + +“Helen is eccentric,” said the former speaker, “but she's not quite that +eccentric, unless they were engaged. It is well understood that they +will announce it in the fall.” + +Miss Hinsdale kindly explained to Harkless that Brainard Macauley was +the editor of the “Rouen Morning Journal”--“a very distinguished young +man, not over twenty-eight, and perfectly wonderful.” Already a power +to be accounted with in national politics, he was “really a tremendous +success,” and sure to go far; “one of those delicate-looking men, who +are yet so strong you know they won't let the lightning hurt you.” It +really looked as if Helen Sherwood (whom Harkless really ought to meet) +had actually been caught in the toils at tet, those toils wherein so +many luckless youths had lain enmeshed for her sake. He must meet Mr. +Macauley, too, the most interesting man in Rouen. After her little +portrait of him, didn't Mr. Harkless agree that it looked really pretty +dull for Miss Sherwood's other lovers? + +Mr. Harkless smiled, and agreed that it did indeed. She felt a thrill of +compassion for him, and her subsequent description of the pathos of +his smile was luminous. She said it was natural that a man who had been +through so much suffering from those horrible “White-Cappers” should +have a smile that struck into your heart like a knife. + +Despite all that Meredith could do, and after his notorious effort to +shift the subject he could do very little, the light prattle ran on +about Helen Sherwood and Brainard Macauley. Tom abused himself for his +wild notion of cheering his visitor with these people who had no talk, +and who, if they drifted out of commonplace froth, had no medium to +float them unless they sailed the currents, of local personality, and he +mentally upbraided them for a set of gossiping ninnies. They conducted +a conversation (if it could be dignified by a name) of which no stranger +could possibly partake, and which, by a hideous coincidence, was making +his friend writhe, figuratively speaking, for Harkless sat like a fixed +shadow. He uttered scarcely a word the whole evening, though Meredith +knew that his guests would talk about him enthusiastically, the next +day, none the less. The journalist's silence was enforced by the +topics; but what expression and manner the light allowed them to see was +friendly and receptive, as though he listened to brilliant suggestions. +He had a nice courtesy, and Miss Hinsdale felt continually that she +was cleverer than usual this evening, and no one took his silence to be +churlish, though they all innocently wondered why he did not talk more; +however, it was probable that a man who had been so interestingly and +terribly shot would be rather silent for a time afterward. + +That night, when Harkless had gone to bed Meredith sat late by his own +window calling himself names. He became aware of a rhomboidal patch of +yellow light on a wall of foliage without, and saw that it came from his +friend's window. After dubious consideration, he knocked softly on the +door. + +“Come.” + +He went in. Harkless was in bed, and laughed faintly as Meredith +entered. “I--I'm fearing you'll have to let me settle your gas bill, +Tom. I'm not like I used to be, quite. I find--since--since that +business, I can't sleep without a light. I rather get the--the horrors +in the dark.” + +Incoherently, Meredith made a compassionate exclamation and turned to +go, and, as he left the room, his eye fell upon the mantel-piece. The +position of the photographs had been altered, and the picture of the +girl who looked straight out at you was gone. The mere rim of it was +visible behind the image of an old gentleman with a sardonic mouth. + +An hour later, Tom came back, and spoke through the closed door. “Boy, +don't you think you can get to sleep now?” + +“Yes, Tom. It's all right. You get to bed. Nothing troubles me.” + +Meredith spent the next day in great tribulation and perplexity; he felt +that something had to be done, but what to do he did not know. He still +believed that a “stirring-up” was what Harkless needed--not the species +of “stirring-up” that had taken place last night, but a diversion which +would divert. As they sat at dinner, a suggestion came to him and he +determined to follow it. He was called to the telephone, and a voice +strange to his ear murmured in a tone of polite deference: “A lady +wishes to know if Mr. Meredith and his visitor intend being present at +the country-club this evening.” + +He had received the same inquiry from Miss Hinsdale on her departure the +previous evening, and had answered vaguely; hence he now rejoined: + +“You are quite an expert ventriloquist, but you do not deceive me.” + +“I beg your pardon, sir,” creaked the small articulation. + +“This is Miss Hinsdale, isn't it?” + +“No, sir. The lady wishes to know if you will kindly answer her +question.” + +“Tell her, yes.” He hung up the receiver, and returned to the table. +“Some of Clara Hinsdale's play,” he explained. “You made a devastating +impression on her, boy; you were wise enough not to talk any, and she +foolishly thought you were as interesting as you looked. We're going out +to a country-club dance. It's given for the devotees who stay here all +summer and swear Rouen is always cool; and nobody dances but me and the +very young ones. It won't be so bad; you can smoke anywhere, and there +are little tables. We'll go.” + +“Thank you, Tom, you're so good to think of it, but----” + +“But what?” + +“Would you mind going alone? I find it very pleasant sitting on your +veranda, or I'll get a book.” + +“Very well, if you don't want to go, I don't. I haven't had a dance for +three months and I'm still addicted to it. But of course----” + +“I think I'd like to go.” Harkless acquiesced at once, with a cheerful +voice and a lifeless eye, and the good Tom felt unaccountably mean in +persisting. + +They drove out into the country through mists like lakes, and found +themselves part of a procession of twinkling carriage-lights, and cigar +sparks shining above open vehicles, winding along the levels like a +canoe fete on the water. In the entrance hall of the club-house they +encountered Miss Hinsdale, very handsome, large, and dark, elaborately +beaming and bending toward them warmly. + +“Who do you think is here?” she said. + +“Gomez?” ventured Meredith. + +“Helen Sherwood!” she cried. “Go and present Mr. Harkless before +Brainard Macauley takes her away to some corner.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. PRETTY MARQUISE + +The two friends walked through a sort of opera-bouffe to find her; music +playing, a swaying crowd, bright lights, bright eyes, pretty women, a +glimpse of dancers footing it over a polished floor in a room beyond--a +hundred colors flashing and changing, as the groups shifted, before the +eye could take in the composition of the picture. A sudden thrill of +exhilaration rioted in John's pulses, and he trembled like a child +before the gay disclosure of a Christmas tree. Meredith swore to himself +that he would not have known him for the man of five minutes agone. Two +small, bright red spots glowed in his cheeks; he held himself erect with +head thrown back and shoulders squared, and the idolizing Tom thought he +looked as a king ought to look at the acme of power and dominion. Miss +Hinsdale's word in the hallway was the geniuses touch: a bent, gray man +of years--a word--and behold the Great John Harkless, the youth of elder +days ripened to his prime of wisdom and strength! People made way for +them and whispered as they passed. It had been years since John Harkless +had been in the midst of a crowd of butterfly people; everything seemed +unreal, or like a ball in a play; presently the curtain would fall and +close the lights and laughter from his view, leaving only the echo of +music. It was like a kaleidoscope for color: the bouquets of crimson or +white or pink or purple; the profusion of pretty dresses, the brilliant, +tender fabrics, and the handsome, foreshortened faces thrown back over +white shoulders in laughter; glossy raven hair and fair tresses moving +in quick salutations; and the whole gay shimmer of festal tints and rich +artificialities set off against the brave green of out-doors, for the +walls were solidly adorned with forest branches, with, here and there +amongst them, a blood-red droop of beech leaves, stabbed in autumn's +first skirmish with summer. The night was cool, and the air full of +flower smells, while harp, violin, and 'cello sent a waltz-throb through +it all. + +They looked rapidly through several rooms and failed to find her +indoors, and they went outside, not exchanging a word, and though +Harkless was a little lame, Tom barely kept up with his long stride. +On the verandas there were fairy lamps and colored incandescents over +little tables, where people sat chatting. She was not there. Beyond +was a terrace, where a myriad of Oriental lanterns outlined themselves +clearly in fantastically shaped planes of scarlet and orange and green +against the blue darkness. Many couples and groups were scattered over +the terrace, and the young men paused on the steps, looking swiftly from +group to group. She was not there. + +“We haven't looked in the dancing-room,” said Tom, looking at his +companion rather sorrowfully. John turned quickly and they reentered the +house. + +He had parted from her in the blackness of storm with only the flicker +of lightning to show her to him, but it was in a blaze of lights that +he saw her again. The dance was just ended, and she stood in a wide +doorway, half surrounded by pretty girls and young men, who were +greeting her. He had one full look at her. She was leaning to them all, +her arms full of flowers, and she seemed the radiant centre of all the +light and gaiety of the place. Even Meredith stopped short and exclaimed +upon her; for one never got used to her; and he remembered that whenever +he saw her after absence the sense of her beauty rushed over him anew. +And he believed the feeling on this occasion was keener than ever +before, for she was prettier than he had ever seen her. + +“No wonder!” he cried; but Harkless did not understand. As they pressed +forward, Meredith perceived that they were only two more radii of +a circle of youths, sprung from every direction as the waltz ended, +bearing down upon the common focus to secure the next dance. Harkless +saw nothing but that she stood there before him. He feared a little that +every one might notice how he was trembling, and he was glad of the many +voices that kept them from hearing his heart knock against his ribs. +She saw him coming toward her, and nodded to him pleasantly, in just the +fashion in which she was bowing to half a dozen others, and at that a +pang of hot pain went through him like an arrow--an arrow poisoned with +cordial, casual friendliness. + +She extended her hand to him and gave him a smile that chilled him--it, +was so conventionally courteous and poised so nicely in the manner of +society. He went hot and cold fast enough then, for not less pleasantly +in that manner did she exclaim: “I am very glad to see you, Mr. +Harkless, so extremely glad! And so delighted to find you looking strong +again! Do tell me about all our friends in Plattville. I should like to +have a little chat with you some time. So good of you to find me in this +melee.” + +And with that she turned from the poor fellow to Meredith. “How do you +do. Cousin Tom? I've saved the next dance for you.” Then she distributed +words here and there and everywhere, amongst the circle about +her--pretty Marquise with a vengeance! “No, Mr. Swift, I shall not make +a card; you must come at the beginning of a dance if you want one. I +cannot promise the next; it is quite impossible. No, I did not go as +far north as Mackinac. How do you do, Mr. Burlingame?--Yes, quite an +age;--no, not the next, I am afraid; nor the next;--I'm not keeping a +card. Good evening, Mr. Baird. No, not the next. Oh, _thank_ you, Miss +Hinsdale!--No, Mr. Swift, it is quite impossible--I'm so sorry. Cousin, +the music is commencing; this is ours.” + +As she took Meredith's arm, she handed her flowers to a gentleman beside +her with the slightest glance at the recipient; and the gesture and look +made her partner heartsick for his friend; it was so easy and natural +and with the air of habit, and had so much of the manner with which a +woman hands things to a man who partakes of her inner confidences. Tom +knew that Harkless divined the gesture, as well as the identity of the +gentleman. They started away, but she paused, and turned to the latter. +“Mr. Macauley, you must meet Mr. Harkless. We leave him in your care, +and you must see that he meets all the pretty girls--you are used to +being nice to distinguished strangers, you know.” + +Tom put his arm about her, and whirled her away, and Harkless felt as if +a soft hand had dealt him blow after blow in the face. Was this lady of +little baffling forms and small cold graces the girl who had been his +kind comrade, the girl who stood with him by the blue tent-pole, she who +had run to him to save his life, she who walked at his side along the +pike? The contrast of these homely scenes made him laugh grimly. Was +this she who had wept before him--was it she who had been redolent of +kindness so fragrantly natural and true--was it she who said she “loved +all these people very much, in spite of having known them only two +days”? + +He cried out upon himself for a fool. What was he in her eyes but a +man who had needed to be told that she did not love him! Had he not +better--and more courteously to her--have avoided the meeting which was +necessarily an embarrassment to her? But no; he must rush like a Mohawk +till he found her and forced her to rebuff him, to veil her kindness in +little manners, to remind him that he put himself in the character of a +rejected importunate. She had punished him enough, perhaps a little too +cruelly enough, in leaving him with the man to whom she handed bouquets +as a matter of course. And this man was one whose success had long been +a trumpet at his ear, blaring loudly of his own failure in the same +career. + +It had been several years since he first heard of the young editor of +the Rouen “Journal,” and nowadays almost everybody knew about Brainard +Macauley. Outwardly, he was of no unusual type: an American of affairs; +slight, easy, yet alert; relaxed, yet sharp; neat, regular, strong; a +quizzical eye, a business chin, an ambitious head with soft, straight +hair outlining a square brow; and though he was “of a type,” he was not +commonplace, and one knew at once that he would make a rattling fight to +arrive where he was going. + +It appeared that he had heard of Harkless, as well as the Carlow editor +of him. They had a few moments of shop, and he talked to Harkless as a +brother craftsman, without the offense of graciousness, and spoke of his +pleasure in the meeting and of his relief at Harkless's recovery, for, +aside from the mere human feeling, the party needed him in Carlow--even +if he did not always prove himself “quite a vehement partisan.” Macauley +laughed. “But I'm not doing my duty,” he said presently; “I was to +present you to the pretty ones only, I believe. Will you designate your +preferred fashion of beauty? We serve all styles.” + +“Thank you,” the other answered, hurriedly. “I met a number last +night--quite a number, indeed.” He had seen them only in dim lights, +however, and except Miss Hinsdale and the widower, had not the faintest +recognition of any of them, and he cut them all, except those two, one +after the other, before the evening was over; and this was a strange +thing for a politician to do; but he did it with such an innocent eye +that they remembered the dark porch and forgave him. + +“Shall we watch the dancing, then?” asked Macauley. Harkless was already +watching part of it. + +“If you will. I have not seen this sort for more than five years.” + +“It is always a treat, I think, and a constant proof that the older +school of English caricaturists didn't overdraw.” + +“Yes; one realizes they couldn't.” + +Harkless remembered Tom Meredith's fine accomplishment of dancing; +he had been the most famous dancer of college days, and it was in the +dancer that John best saw his old friend again as he had known him, the +light lad of the active toe. Other couples flickered about the one +John watched, couples that plodded, couples that bobbed, couples that +galloped, couples that slid, but the cousins alone passed across the +glistening reflections as lightly as October leaves blown over the +forest floor. In the midst of people who danced with fixed, glassy eyes, +or who frowned with determination to do their duty or to die, and +seemed to expect the latter, or who were pale with the apprehension of +collision, or who made visible their anxiety to breathe through the nose +and look pleased at the same time, these two floated and smiled +easily upon life. Three or four steep steps made the portly and +cigarette-smoking Meredith pant like an old man, but a dance was a +cooling draught to him. As for the little Marquise--when she danced, she +danced away with all those luckless hearts that were not hers already. +The orchestra launched the jubilant measures of the deux-temps with a +torrent of vivacity, and the girl's rhythmic flight answered like a sail +taking the breeze. + +There was one heart she had long since won which answered her every +movement. Flushed, rapturous, eyes sparkling, cheeks aglow, the small +head weaving through the throng like a golden shuttle--ah, did she know +how adorable she was! Was Tom right: is it the attainable unattainable +to one man and given to some other that leaves a deeper mark upon him +than success? At all events the unattainable was now like a hot sting +in the heart, but yet a sting more precious than a balm. The voice of +Brainard Macauley broke in: + +“A white brow and a long lash, a flushing cheek and a soft eye, a voice +that laughs and breaks and ripples in the middle of a word, a girl you +could put in your hat, Mr. Harkless--and there you have a strong man +prone! But I congratulate you on the manner your subordinates operate +the 'Herald' during your absence. I understand you are making it a +daily.” + +Macauley was staring at him quizzically, and Harkless, puzzled, but +without resentment of the other's whimsey, could only decide that the +editor of the Rouen “Journal” was an exceedingly odd young man. All at +once he found Meredith and the girl herself beside him; they had stopped +before the dance was finished. He had the impulse to guard himself from +new blows as a boy throws up his elbow to ward a buffet, and, although +he could not ward with his elbow, for his heart was on his sleeve--where +he began to believe that Macauley had seen it--he remembered that he +could smile with as much intentional mechanism as any wornout rounder of +afternoons. He stepped aside for her, and she saw what she had known but +had not seen before, for the thickness of the crowd, and this was that +he limped and leaned upon his stick. + +“Do let me thank you,” he said, with a louder echo of her manner of +greeting him, a little earlier. “It has been such a pleasure to watch +you dance. It is really charming to meet you here. If I return to +Plattville I shall surely remember to tell Miss Briscoe.” + +At this she surprised him with a sudden, clear look in the eyes, so +reproachful, so deep, so sad, that he started. She took her flowers +from Macauley, who had the air of understanding the significance of such +ceremonies very well, and saying, “Shan't we all go out on the terrace?” + placed her arm in Harkless's, and conducted him (and not the others) +to the most secluded corner of the terrace, a nook illumined by one +Japanese lantern; to which spot it was his belief that he led her. She +sank into a chair, with the look of the girl who had stood by the blue +tent-pole. He could only stare at her, amazed by her abrupt change to +this dazzling, if reproachful, kindness, confused by his good fortune. + +“'_If_ you go back to Plattville!'” she said in a low voice. “What do +you mean?” + +“I don't know. I've been dull lately, and I thought I might go somewhere +else.” Caught in a witchery no lack of possession could dispel, and +which the prospect of loss made only stronger while it lasted, he took +little thought of what he said; little thought of anything but of the +gladness it was to be with her again. + +“'Somewhere else?' Where?” + +“Anywhere.” + +“Have you no sense of responsibility? What is to become of your paper?” + +“The 'Herald'? Oh, it will potter along, I think.” + +“But what has become of it in your absence, already? Has it not +deteriorated very much?” + +“No,” he said; “it's better than it ever was before.” + +“What!” she cried, with a little gasp. + +“You're so astounded at my modesty?” + +“But please tell me what you mean,” she said quickly. “What happened to +it?” + +“Isn't the 'Herald' rather a dull subject? I'll tell you how well Judge +Briscoe looked when he came to see me; or, rather, tell me of your +summer in the north.” + +“No,” she answered earnestly. “Don't you remember my telling you that I +am interested in newspaper work?” + +“I have even heard so from others,” he said, with an instant of dryness. + +“Please tell me about the 'Herald'?” + +“It is very simple. Your friend, Mr. Fisbee, found a substitute, a +relative six feet high with his coat off, a traction engine for energy +and a limited mail for speed. He writes me letters on a type writer +suffering from an impediment in its speech; and in brief, he is an +enterprising idiot with a mania for work-baskets.” + +Her face was in the shadow. + +“You say the--idiot--is enterprising?” she inquired. + +“Far more enterprising and far less idiot than I. They are looking +for oil down there, and when he came he knew less about oil than a +kindergarten babe, and spoke of 'boring for kerosene' in his first +letter to me; but he knows it all now, and writes long and convincing +geological arguments. If a well comes in, he is prepared to get out an +extra! Perhaps you may understand what that means in Plattville, with +the 'Herald's' numerous forces. I owe him everything, even the shares in +the oil company, which he has persuaded me to take. And he is going to +dare to make the 'Herald' a daily. Do you remember asking me why I had +never done that? It seemed rather a venture to try to compete with the +Rouen papers in offering State and foreign news, but this young +Gulliver has tacked onto the Associated Press, and means to print a +quarto--that's eight pages, you know--once a week, Saturday, and a +double sheet, four pages, on other mornings. The daily venture begins +next Monday.” + +“Will it succeed?” + +“Oh, no!” he laughed. + +“You think not?” Her interest in this dull business struck him as +astonishing, and yet in character with her as he had known her in +Plattville. Then he wondered unhappily if she thought that talking +of the “Herald” and learning things about the working of a country +newspaper would help her to understand Brainard Macauley. + +“Why have you let him go on with it?” she asked. “I suppose you have +encouraged him?” + +“Oh, yes, I encouraged him. The creature's recklessness fascinated me. A +dare-devil like that is always charming.'” + +“You think there is no chance for the creature's succeeding with the +daily?” + +“None,” he replied indifferently. + +“You mentioned work-baskets, I think?” + +He laughed again. “I believe him to be the original wooden-nutmeg man. +Once a week he produces a 'Woman's Page,' wherein he presents to the +Carlow female public three methods for making currant jelly, three +receipts for the concoction of salads, and directs the ladies how to +manufacture a pretty work-basket out of odd scraps in twenty minutes. +The astonishing part of it is that he has not yet been mobbed by the +women who have followed his directions.” + +“So you think the daily is a mistake and that your enterprising idiot +should be mobbed? Why?” She seemed to be taking him very seriously. + +“I think he may be--for his 'Woman's Page.'” + +“It is all wrong, you think?” + +“What could a Yankee six-footer cousin of old Fisbee's know about +currant jelly and work-baskets?” + +“You know about currant jelly and work-baskets yourself?” + +“Heaven defend the right, I do not!” + +“You are sure he is six feet?” + +“You should see his signature; that leaves no doubt. And, also, his +ability denotes his stature.” + +“You believe that ability is in proportion to height, do you not?” There +was a dangerous luring in her tone. + +His memory recalled to him that he was treading on undermined ground, so +he hastened to say: “In inverse proportion.” + +“Then your substitute is a failure. I see,” she said, slowly. + +What muffled illumination there was in their nook fell upon his face; +her back was toward it, so that she was only an outline to him, and he +would have been startled and touched to the quick, could he have known +that her lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears as she spoke the +last words. He was happy as he had not been since his short June day; +it was enough to be with her again. Nothing, not even Brainard Macauley, +could dull his delight. And, besides, for a few minutes he had forgotten +Brainard Macauley. What more could man ask than to sit in the gloom with +her, to know that he was near her again for a little while, and to talk +about anything--if he talked at all? Nonsense and idle exaggeration +about young Fisbee would do as well as another thing. + +“The young gentleman is an exception,” he returned. “I told you I owed +everything to him; my gratitude will not allow me to admit that his +ability is less than his stature. He suggested my purchase of a quantity +of Mr. Watts's oil stock when it was knocked flat on its back by two +wells turning out dry; but if Mr. Watts's third well comes in, and young +Fisbee has convinced me that it will, and if my Midas's extra booms the +stock and the boom develops, I shall oppose the income tax. Poor old +Plattville will be full of strangers and speculators, and the 'Herald' +will advocate vast improvements to impress the investor's eye. +Stagnation and picturesqueness will flee together; it is the history +of the Indiana town. Already the 'Herald' is clamoring with Schofields' +Henry--you remember the bell-ringer?--for Main Street to be asphalted. +It will all come. The only trouble with young Fisbee is that he has too +much ability.” + +“And yet the daily will not succeed?” + +“No. That's too big a jump, unless my young man's expressions on the +tariff command a wide sale amongst curio-hunters.” + +“Then he is quite a fool about political matters?” + +“Far from it; he is highly ingenious. His editorials are often the +subtlest cups of flattery I ever sipped, many of them showing assiduous +study of old files to master the method and notions of his eagle-eyed +predecessor. But the tariff seems to have got him. He is a very +masculine person, except for this one feminine quality, for, if I may +say it without ungallantry, there is a legend that no woman has ever +understood the tariff. Young Fisbee must be an extremely travelled +person, because the custom-house people have made an impression upon him +which no few encounters with them could explain, and he conceives the +tariff to be a law which discommodes a lady who has been purchasing +gloves in Paris. He thinks smuggling the great evil of the present +tariff system; it is such a temptation, so insidious a break-down of +moral fibre. His views must edify Carlow.” + +She gave a quick, stifled cry. “Oh! there isn't a word of truth in what +you say! Not a word! I did not think you could be so cruel!” + +He bent forward, peering at her in astonishment. + +“Cruel!” + +“You know it is a hateful distortion--an exaggeration!” she exclaimed +passionately. “No man living could have so little sense as you say +he has. The tariff is perfectly plain to any child. When you were in +Plattville you weren't like this--I didn't know you were unkind!” + +“I--I don't understand, please----” + +“Miss Hinsdale has been talking--raving--to me about you! You may not +know it--though I suppose you do--but you made a conquest last night. +It seems a little hard on the poor young man who is at work for you in +Plattville, doing his best for you, plodding on through the hot days, +and doing all he knows how, while you sit listening to music in the +evenings with Clara Hinsdale, and make a mock of his work and his trying +to please you----” + +“But I didn't mention him to Miss Hinsdale. In fact, I didn't mention +_anything_ to Miss Hinsdale. What have I done? The young man is making +his living by his work--and my living, too, for that matter. It only +seems to me that his tariff editorials are rather humorous.” + +She laughed suddenly--ringingly. “Of course they are! How should I know? +Immensely humorous! And the good creature knows nothing beyond smuggling +and the custom-house and chalk marks? Why, even _I_--ha, ha, ha!--even +_I_--should have known better than that. What a little fool your +enterprising idiot must be!--with his work-baskets and currant jelly +and his trying to make the 'Herald' a daily!--It will be a ludicrous +failure, of course. No doubt he thought he was being quite wise, and +was pleased over his tariff editorials--his funny, funny editorials--his +best--to please you! Ha, ha, ha! How immensely funny!” + +“Do you know him?” he asked abruptly. + +“I have not the honor of the gentleman's acquaintance. Ah,” she rejoined +bitterly, “I see what you mean; it is the old accusation, is it? I am a +woman, and I 'sound the personal note.' I could not resent a cruelty +for the sake of a man I do not know. But let it go. My resentment is +personal, after all, since it is against a man I do know--_you_!” + +He leaned toward her because he could not help it. “I'd rather have +resentment from you than nothing.” + +“Then I will give you nothing,” she answered quickly. + +“You flout me!” he cried. “That is better than resentment.” + +“I hate you most, I think,” she said with a tremulousness he did not +perceive, “when you say you do not care to go back to Plattville.” + +“Did I say it?” + +“It is in every word, and it is true; you don't care to go back there.” + +“Yes, it is true; I don't.” + +“You want to leave the place where you do good; to leave those people +who love you, who were ready to die to avenge your hurt!” she exclaimed +vehemently. “Oh, I say that is shameful!” + +“Yes, I know,” he returned gravely. “I am ashamed.” + +“Don't say that!” she cried. “Don't say you are ashamed of it. Do you +suppose I do not understand the dreariness it has been for you? Don't +you know that I see it is a horror to you, that it brings back your +struggle with those beasts in the dark, and revivifies all your +suffering, merely to think of it?” Her turns and sudden contradictions +left him tangled in a maze; he could not follow, but must sit helpless +to keep pace with her, while the sheer happiness of being with her +tingled through his veins. She rose and took a step aside, then spoke +again: “Well, since you want to leave Carlow, you shall; since you do +not wish to return, you need not.--Are you laughing at me?” She leaned +toward him, and looked at him steadily, with her face close to his. He +was not laughing; his eyes shone with a deep fire; in that nearness he +hardly comprehended what she said. “Thank you for not laughing,” she +whispered, and leaned back from him. “I suppose you think my promises +are quite wild, and they are. I do not know what I was talking about, or +what I meant, any better than you do. You may understand some day. It +is all--I mean that it hurts one to hear you say you do not care for +Carlow.” She turned away. “Come.” + +“Where?” + +“It is my turn to conclude the interview. You remember, the last time it +was you who--” She broke off, shuddering, and covered her face with her +hands. “Ah, that!” she exclaimed. “I did not think--I did not mean to +speak of that miserable, miserable night. And _I_ to be harsh with you +for not caring to go back to Carlow!” + +“Your harshness,” he laughed. “A waft of eider.” + +“We must go,” she said. He did not move, but sat staring at her like a +thirsty man drinking. With an impulsive and pretty gesture she reached +out her hand to him. Her little, white glove trembled in the night +before his eyes, and his heart leaped to meet its sudden sweet +generosity; his thin fingers closed over it as he rose, and then that +hand he had likened to a white butterfly lay warm and light and quiet in +his own. And as they had so often stood together in their short day and +their two nights of the moon, so now again they stood with a serenading +silence between them. A plaintive waltz-refrain from the house ran +through the blue woof of starlit air as a sad-colored thread through +the tapestry of night; they heard the mellow croon of the 'cello and the +silver plaints of violins, the chiming harp, and the triangle bells, +all woven into a minor strain of dance-music that beat gently upon their +ears with such suggestion of the past, that, as by some witchcraft of +hearing, they listened to music made for lovers dancing, and lovers +listening, a hundred years ago. + +“I care for only one thing in this world,” he said, tremulously. “Have +I lost it? I didn't mean to ask you, that last night, although you +answered. Have I no chance? Is it still the same? Do I come too late?” + +The butterfly fluttered in his hand and then away. + +She drew back and looked at him a moment. + +“There is one thing you must always understand,” she said gently, “and +that is that a woman can be grateful. I give you all the gratitude there +is in me, and I think I have a great deal; it is all yours. Will you +always remember that?” + +“Gratitude? What can there--” + +“You do not understand now, but some day you will. I ask you to remember +that my every act and thought which bore reference to you--and there +have been many--came from the purest gratitude. Although you do not see +it now, will you promise to believe it?” + +“Yes,” he said simply. + +“For the rest--” She paused. “For the rest--I do not love you.” + +He bowed his head and did not lift it. + +“Do you understand?” she asked. + +“I understand,” he answered, quietly. + +She looked at him long, and then, suddenly, her hand to her heart, gave +a little, pitying, tender cry and moved toward him. At this he raised +his head and smiled sadly. “No; don't you mind,” he said. “It's all +right. I was such a cad the other time I needed to be told; I was +so entirely silly about it, I couldn't face the others to tell them +good-night, and I left you out there to go in to them alone. I didn't +realize, for my manners were all gone. I'd lived in a kind of stupor, +I think, for a long time; then being with you was like a dream, and the +sudden waking was too much for me. I've been ashamed often, since, in +thinking of it--and I was well punished for not taking you in. I thought +only of myself, and I behaved like a whining, unbalanced boy. But I had +whined from the moment I met you, because I was sickly with egoism and +loneliness and self-pity. I'm keeping you from the dancing. Won't you +let me take you back to the house?” + +A commanding and querulous contralto voice was heard behind them, and a +dim, majestic figure appeared under the Japanese lantern. + +“Helen?” + +The girl turned quickly. “Yes, mamma.” + +“May I ask you to return to the club-house for supper with me? Your +father has been very much worried about you. We have all been looking +for you.” + +“Mamma, this is Mr. Harkless.” + +“How do you do?” The lady murmured this much so far under her breath +that the words might have been mistaken for anything else--most +plausibly, perhaps, for, “Who cares if it is?”--nor further did she +acknowledge John's profound inclination. Frigidity and complaint of +ill-usage made a glamour in every fold of her expensive garments; she +was large and troubled and severe. A second figure emerged from behind +her and bowed with the suave dignity that belonged to Brainard Macauley. +“Mr. Macauley has asked to sit at our table,” Mrs. Sherwood said to +Helen. “May I beg you to come at once? Your father is holding places for +us.” + +“Certainly,” she answered. “I will follow you with Mr. Harkless.” + +“I think Mr. Harkless will excuse you,” said the elder lady. “He has +an engagement. Mr. Meredith has been looking everywhere for him to take +Miss Hinsdale out to supper.” + +“Good-night, Miss Sherwood,” said John in a cheerful voice. “I thank you +for sitting out the dance with me.” + +“Good-night,” she said, and gave him her hand. “I'm so sorry I shan't +see you again; I am only in Rouen for this evening, or I should ask you +to come to see me. I am leaving to-morrow morning. Good-night.--Yes, +mamma.” + +The three figures went toward the bright lights of the club-house. She +was leaning on Macauley's arm and chatting gaily, smiling up at him +brightly. John watched her till she was lost in the throng on the +veranda. There, in the lights, where waiters were arranging little +tables, every one was talking and moving about, noisily, good-humored +and happy. There was a flourish of violins, and then the orchestra swung +into a rampant march that pranced like uncurbed cavalry; it stirred the +blood of old men with militant bugle calls and blast of horns; it +might have heralded the chariot of a flamboyant war god rioting out of +sunrise, plumed with youth. Some quite young men on the veranda made +as if they were restive horses champing at the bit and heading a +procession, and, from a group near by, loud laughter pealed. + +John Harkless lifted to his face the hand that had held hers; there was +the faint perfume of her glove. He kissed his own hand. Then he put that +hand and the other to his forehead, and sank into her chair. + +“Let me get back,” he said. “Let me get back to Plattville, where I +belong.” + +Tom Meredith came calling him. “Harkless? John Harkless?” + +“Here I am, Tom.” + +“Come along, boy. What on earth are you doing out here all alone? I +thought you were with--I thought some people were with you. You're +bored to death, I know; but come along and be bored some more, because I +promised to bring you in for supper. Then we'll go home. They've saved a +place for you by Miss Hinsdale.” + +“Very well, lad,” answered Harkless, and put his hand on the other's +shoulder. “Thank you.” + +The next day he could not leave his bed; his wounds were feverish and +his weakness had returned. Meredith was shaken with remorse because +he had let him wander around in the damp night air with no one to look +after him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. HELEN'S TOAST + +Judge Briscoe was sitting out under the afternoon sky with his chair +tilted back and his feet propped against the steps. His coat was off, +and Minnie sat near at hand sewing a button on the garment for him, and +she wore that dreamy glaze that comes over women's eyes when they sew +for other people. + +From the interior of the house rose and fell the murmur of a number of +voices engaged in a conversation, which, for a time, seemed to consist +of dejected monosyllables; but presently the judge and Minnie heard +Helen's voice, clear, soft, and trembling a little with excitement. She +talked only two or three minutes, but what she said stirred up a great +commotion. All the voices burst forth at once in ejaculations--almost +shouts; but presently they were again subdued and still, except for +the single soft one, which held forth more quietly, but with a deeper +agitation, than any of the others. + +“You needn't try to bamboozle me,” said the judge in a covert tone to +his daughter, and with a glance at the parlor window, whence now issued +the rumble of Warren Smith's basso. “I tell you that girl would follow +John Harkless to Jericho.” + +Minnie shook her head mysteriously, and bit a thread with a vague frown. + +“Well, why not?” asked the judge crossly. + +“Why wouldn't she have him, then?” + +“Well, who knows he's asked her yet?” + +Minnie screamed derisively at the density of man, “What made him run off +that way, the night he was hurt? Why didn't he come back in the house +with her?” + +“Pshaw!” + +“Don't you suppose a woman understands?” + +“Meaning that you know more about it than I do, I presume,” grunted the +old gentleman. + +“Yes, father,” she replied, smiling benignantly upon him. + +“Did she tell you?” he asked abruptly. + +“No, no. I guess the truth is that women don't know more than men so +much as they see more; they understand more without having to read about +it.” + +“That's the way of it, is it?” he laughed. “Well, it don't make any +difference, she'll have him some time.” + +“No, father; it's only gratitude.” + +“Gratitude!” The judge snorted scornfully. “Girls don't do as much as +she's done for him out of gratitude. _Look_ what she's doing; not only +running the 'Herald' for him, but making it a daily, and a good daily at +that. First time I saw her I knew right away she was the smartest girl +I ever laid eyes on;--I expect she must have got it from her mother. +Gratitude! Pooh! Look how she's studied his interests, and watched like +a cat for chances for him in everything. Didn't she get him into Eph +Watts's company? She talked to Watts and the other fellows, day after +day, and drove around their leased land with 'em, and studied it up, and +got on the inside, and made him buy. Now, if they strike it--and +she's sure they will, and _I_'m sure she knows when to have faith in a +thing--why, they'll sell out to the Standard, and they can all quit work +for the rest of their lives if they want to; and Harkless gets as +much as any without lifting a finger, all because he had a little +money--mighty little, too--laid up in bank and a girl that saw where to +put it. She did that for him, didn't she?” + +“Don't you see what fun it's been for her?” returned Minnie. “She's been +having the best time she ever had; I never knew any one half so happy.” + +“Yes; she went up and saw him at that party, and she knows he's still +thinking about her. I shouldn't be surprised if he asked her then, and +that's what makes her so gay.” + +“Well, she couldn't have said 'yes,' because he went back to his bed the +next day, and he's been there most of the time since.” + +“Pshaw! He wasn't over his injuries, and he was weak and got malaria.” + +“Well, she couldn't be so happy while he's sick, if she cared very much +about him.” + +“He's not very sick. She's happy because she's working for him, and she +knows his illness isn't serious. He'll be a well man when she says the +word. He's love-sick, that's what he is; I never saw a man so taken down +with it in my life.” + +“Then it isn't malaria?” Minnie said, with a smile of some superiority. + +“You're just like your poor mother,” the old gentleman answered, growing +rather red. “She never could learn to argue. What I say is that Helen +cares about him, whether she says she does or not, whether she acts like +it or not--or whether she thinks she does or not,” he added irascibly. +“Do you know what she's doing for him to-day?” + +“Not exactly.” + +“Well, when they were talking together at that party, he said something +that made her think he was anxious to get away from Plattville--you're +not to repeat this, child; she told me, relying on my discretion.” + +“Well?” + +“Do you know why she's got these men to come here to-day to meet +her--Warren Smith and Landis and Homer, and Boswell and young Keating of +Amo, and Tom Martin and those two fellows from Gaines County?” + +“Something about politics, isn't it?” + +“'Something about politics!'” he echoed. “I should say it is! Wait till +it's done, and this evening I'll tell you--if you can keep a secret.” + +Minnie set her work-basket on the steps. “Oh, I guess I can keep a +secret,” she said. “But it won't make any difference.” + +“You mean you've said it, and you'll stick to it that it's gratitude +till their wedding day.” + +“She knows he gave her father something to do, and helped him in other +ways, when no one else did.” + +“I know all about that. She reproaches herself for having neglected +Fisbee while a stranger took care of him, and saved him from +starving--and worse. She's unreasonable about it; she didn't know he +was in want till long after. That's just like Fisbee, to tell her, +afterwards. He didn't tell her how low he got; but he hinted at it +to her, and I guess she understood; I gathered that much from him. Of +course she's grateful, but gratefulness don't account for everything.” + +“Yes it does.” + +“Well, I never expected to have the last word with a woman.” + +“Well, you needn't,” said Minnie. + +“I don't. I never do,” he retorted. She did not answer, but hummed a +little tune and looked up at the tree-tops. + +Warren Smith appeared in the doorway. “Judge,” he said, “will you step +inside? We need you.” + +Briscoe nodded and rose at once. As he reached the door, Minnie said in +a piercing whisper: + +“It's hard to be sure about her, but I'm right; it's gratitude.” + +“There,” he replied, chuckling, “I thought I shouldn't have the last +word.” Minnie began to sing, and the judge, after standing in the +doorway till he was again summoned from within, slowly retired. + + + +Briscoe had persisted in his own explanation of Helen's gaiety; +nevertheless he did not question his daughter's assumption that the +young lady was enjoying her career in Carlow. She was free as a bird +to go and come, and her duties and pleasures ran together in a happy +excitement. Her hands were full of work, but she sought and increased +new tasks, and performed them also. She came to Carlow as unused to the +soil as was Harkless on his arrival, and her educational equipment for +the work was far less than his; her experience, nothing. But both were +native to the State; and the genius of the American is adaptability, +and both were sprung from pioneers whose means of life depended on that +quality. + +There are, here and there, excrescent individuals who, through stock +decadence, or their inability to comprehend republican conditions, +are not assimilated by the body of the country; but many of these are +imports, while some are exports. Our foreign-born agitators now and then +find themselves removed by the police to institutions of routine, +while the romantic innocents who set up crests in the face of an +unimpressionable democracy are apt to be lured by their own curious +ambitions, or those of their women-folk, to spend a great part of their +time in or about the villas of Albion, thus paid for its perfidy; and, +although the anarchists and the bubble-hunters make a noise, it is +enormously out of proportion to their number, which is relatively very +small, and neither the imported nor the exported article can be taken as +characteristic of our country. For the American is one who soon fits any +place, or into any shaped hole in America, where you can set him down. +It may be that without going so far as to suggest the halls of the great +and good and rich, one might mention a number of houses of entertainment +for man and beast in this country, in which Mr. Martin of the Plattville +Dry Goods Emporium would find himself little at ease. But even in the +extreme case, if Mr. Martin were given his choice of being burned to +death, or drowned, or of spending a month at the most stupendously +embellished tavern located in our possessions, and supposing him to +have chosen the third alternate, it is probable that he would have grown +almost accustomed to his surroundings before he died; and if he survived +the month, we may even fancy him really enjoying moments of conversation +with the night-clerks. + +As Mr. Parker observed, Miss Sherwood did not do the Grand Duchess, +giving the Carlow tenants a treat. She felt no duchess symptoms within +herself, and though, of course, she had various manners tucked away to +wear as one suits garments to occasions--and it was a Rouen “party-gown” + wherewith she chose to abash poor John Harkless at their meeting--here +in Carlow, she was a woman of affairs, lively, shrewd, engaging, +capable; she was herself (at least she was that side of herself). And +it should be explained that Harkless had based his calumny regarding the +tariff on a paragraph or two that crept inadvertently into an otherwise +statesmanlike article, and that “H. Fisbee” understood the tariff +as well as any woman who ever lived. But the tariff inspired no more +articles from that pen. + +Rodney McCune had lifted his head, and those who had followed his +stricken enemy felt that the cause was lost, without the leader. The old +ring that the “Herald” had crushed was a ring once more, and the heelers +had rallied--“the boys were in line again.” The work had been done +quietly, and Halloway was already beaten, and beaten badly. John +Harkless lay sick, and Rodney McCune would sit in Congress, for the +nomination meant election. But one day the Harkless forces, demoralized, +broken, almost hopeless, woke up to find that they had a leader. Many +of them were content with the belief that this was a young lawyer +named Keating, who had risen up in Amo; but Mr. Keating himself had a +different impression. + +Helen was a little nervous, and very much excited, over the political +conference at Judge Briscoe's. She planned it with careful diplomacy, +and arranged the details with a fine sense of the dramatic. There was +a suggestion she desired to have made in this meeting, which she +wished should emanate from the Amo and Gaines County people, instead of +proceeding from Carlow--for she thought it better to make the outsiders +believe her idea an inspiration of their own--so she made a little +comedy and provided for Briscoe's entrance at an effective moment. The +judge was a substantial influence, strong in the councils of his party +when he chose to be; and though of late years he had contented himself +with voting at the polls, every one knew what weight he carried when he +saw fit to bestir himself. + +When he entered the parlor, he found the politicians in a state of +subdued excitement. Helen sat by the window, blushing, and talking +eagerly to old Fisbee. One of the gentlemen from Gaines County was +walking about the room exclaiming, “A glorious conception! A glorious +conception!” addressing the bric-a-brac, apparently. (He thought the +conception his own.) Mr. Martin was tugging at his beard and whispering +to Landis and Homer, and the two Amo men were consulting in a corner, +but as the judge came in, one of them turned and said loudly, “That's +the man.” + +“What man am I, Keating?” asked Briscoe, cheerily. + +“We better explain, I guess,” answered the other; and turning to his +compatriot: “You tell him, Boswell.” + +“Well--it's this way--” said Boswell, and came at once to an awkward +pause, turning aside sheepishly and unable to proceed. + +“So that's the way of it, is it?” said the old gentleman. + +Helen laughed cheerfully, and looked about her with a courageous and +encouraging eye. “It is embarrassing,” she said. “Judge Briscoe, we are +contemplating 'a piece of the blackest treachery and chicanery.' We are +going to give Mr. Halloway the--the go-by!” The embarrassment fell away, +and everybody began to talk at once. + +“Hold on a minute,” said the judge; “let's get at it straight. What do +you want with me?” + +“I'll tell you,” volunteered Keating. “You see, the boys are getting in +line again for this convention. They are the old file that used to rule +the roost before the 'Herald' got too strong for them, and they rely on +Mr. Harkless's being sick to beat Kedge Halloway with that Gaines +County man, McCune. Now, none of us here want Rod McCune I guess. We had +trouble enough once with him and his heelers, and now that Mr. Harkless +is down, they've taken advantage of it to raise a revolution: Rod McCune +for Congress! He's a dirty-hearted swindler--I hope Miss Sherwood will +pardon the strong expression--and everybody thought the 'Herald' had +driven him out of politics, though it never told how it did it; but +he's up on top again. Now, the question is to beat him. We hold the +committees, but the boys have been fighting the committees--call 'em +the 'Harkless Ring,' and never understood that the 'Herald' would have +turned us down in a second if it thought we weren't straight. Well, +we saw a week ago that Kedge Halloway was going to lose to McCune; we +figured it out pretty exactly, and there ain't a ray of hope for Kedge. +We wrote to Mr. Harkless about it, and asked him to come down--if he'd +been on the ground last Monday and had begun to work, I don't say but +what his personal influence might have saved Halloway--but a friend of +his, where he's staying, answered the letter: said Mr. Harkless was +down with a relapse and was very fretful; and he'd taken the liberty of +reading the letter and temporarily suppressing it under doctor's orders; +they were afraid he'd come, sick as he was, from a sense of duty, and +asked us to withdraw the letter, and referred us to Mr. Harkless's +representative on the 'Herald.' So we applied here to Miss Sherwood, and +that's why we had this meeting. Now, Halloway is honest--everybody knows +that--and I don't say but what he's been the best available material Mr. +Harkless had to send to Washington; but he ain't any too bright----” + +Mr. Martin interrupted the speaker. “I reckon, maybe, you never heard +that lecture of his on the Past, Present, and Future'?” + +“Besides that,” Keating continued, “Halloway has had it long enough, +and he's got enough glory out of it, and, except for getting beat by Rod +McCune, I believe he'd almost as soon give it up. Well, we discussed all +this and that, and couldn't come to any conclusion. We didn't want to +keep on with a losing fight if there was any way to put up a winner, +though of course we all recognized that Mr. Harkless would want us to +support Kedge to the death, and that's what he'd do if he was on the +ground. But Miss Sherwood mentioned that she'd had one note since his +last illness began, and he'd entrusted her and her associates on the +paper with the entire policy, and she would take the responsibility for +anything we determined on. Mr. Smith said the only thing to do was +to give up Halloway and get a man that could beat McCune; Kedge would +recognize it himself, that that was the only thing to do, and he could +retire gracefully. Miss Sherwood said she was still more or less a +stranger, and asked what man we could find who was strong enough to do +it by popularity alone and who was also a man we wanted; somebody that +had worked a good deal, but had never had any office. It was to such a +man she could promise the 'Herald's' support, as for a time the paper +was being operated almost independently, it might be said, of Mr. +Harkless. Well, I expect it came to all of us at the same time, but it +was Mr. Bence here that said it first.” + +Mr. Bence was the gentleman who had walked about saying “A glorious +conception,” and he now thrust one hand into his breast and extended the +other in a wide gesture, and looked as impressive as a very young man +with white eyebrows can look. + +“The name of Harkless,” he said abruptly, “the name of Harkless will +sweep the convention like the fire of a Western prairie; the name of +Harkless will thunder over their astonished heads and strike a peal +of joy bells in every home in the district; it will re-echo in the +corridors of posterity and teem with prosperity like a mighty river. +The name of Harkless will reverberate in that convention hall, and they +shall sit ashamed.” + +“Harkless!” exclaimed the judge. “Why didn't some one think of that long +ago?” + +“Then you approve?” asked Keating. + +“Yes, I think I do!” + +The Amo man shook hands with him. “We'll swim out,” he exclaimed. “It +will be the same everywhere. A lot of the old crowd themselves will be +swept along with us when we make our nomination. People feel that that +Cross-Roads business ought never to have been allowed to happen, +and they'd like to make it up to him some way. There are just two +difficulties, Halloway and Mr. Harkless himself. It's a sure thing that +he wouldn't come out against Kedge and that he'd refuse to let his name +be used against him. Therefore, we've got to keep it quiet from him; the +whole thing has to be worked quietly. The McCune folks were quiet until +they thought they were sure; we've got to be quieter still. Well, we've +made out a plan.” + +“And a plan that will operate,” added Mr. Bence. “For the name of +Harkless shall--” Mr. Keating interrupted him energetically: + +“We explain it to all the Halloway delegates, you see, and to all the +shaky McCune people, and interview all the undecided ones. The McCune +crowd may see them afterwards, but they can't fix men in this district +against John Harkless. All we've got to do is to pass the word. It's all +kept quiet, you understand. We go into the convention, and the names of +Halloway and McCune are placed before it. Then will come a speech naming +Harkless--and you want to stuff your ears with cotton! On the first +ballot Harkless gets the scattering vote that was going to nominate +McCune if we'd let things run, and Halloway is given every vote he'd +have got if he'd run against McCune alone; it's as a compliment; it will +help him see how things were, afterwards; and on the second ballot his +vote goes to Harkless. There won't be any hitch if we get down to work +right off; it's a mighty short campaign, but we've got big chances. Of +course, it can't be helped that Halloway has to be kept in the dark; he +won't spend any money, anyway.” + +“It looks a little underhanded at first glance,” said Warren Smith; +“but, as Miss Sherwood said, you've got to be a little underhanded +sometimes, especially when you're dealing with as scrupulous a man as +John Harkless. But it's a perfectly honest deal, and it will be all +right with him when he finds it's all over and he's nominated.” + +“It's a plain case,” added Boswell. “We want him, and we've got to have +him.” + +“There's one danger,” Mr. Keating continued. “Kedge Halloway is honest, +but I believe he's selfish enough to disturb his best friend's deathbed +for his own ends, and it's not unlikely that he will get nervous towards +the last and be telegraphing Harkless to have himself carried on a cot +to the convention to save him. That wouldn't do at all, of course, +and Miss Sherwood thinks maybe there'd be less danger if we set the +convention a little ahead of the day appointed. It's dangerous, because +it shortens our time; but we can fix it for three days before the day +we'd settled on, and that will bring it to September 7th. What we want +of you, judge, is to go to the convention as a delegate, and make the +nominating speech for Mr. Harkless. Will you do it?” + +“Do it?” cried the old man, and he struck the table a resounding blow +with his big fist. “Do it? I'd walk from here to Rouen and back again to +do it!” + +They were all on their feet at this, and they pressed forward to shake +Briscoe's hand, congratulating him and each other as though they were +already victorious. Mr. Martin bent over Helen and asked her if she +minded shaking hands with a man who had voted for Shem at the first +election in the Ark. + +“I thought I'd rightly ort to thank you for finishin' off Kedge +Halloway,” he added. “I made up my mind I'd never vote for him again, +the night he killed that intellectual insect of his.” + +“Intellectual insect, Mr. Martin?” she asked, puzzled. + +He sighed. “The recollection never quits ha'ntin' me. I reckon I haven't +had a restful night since June. Maybe you don't remember his lecture.” + +“Oh, but I do,” she laughed; “and I remember the story of the fly, +vividly.” + +“I never was jest what you might exactly call gushin' over Kedge,” + Mr. Martin drawled. “He doesn't strike me as havin' many ideas, +precisely--he had kind of a symptom of one once, that he caught from +Harkless, but it didn't take; it sloshed around in his mind and never +really come out on him. I always thought his brain was sort of syrupy. +Harkless thought there was fruit in it, and I reckon there is; but some +way it never seems to jell.” + +“Go on,” said Helen gayly. “I want to hear him abused. It helps me to +feel less mean about the way we are treating him.” + +“Yes; I'm slickin' over my conscience, too. I feel awnrier about it +because he done me a good turn once, in the Hayes and Wheeler campaign. +I went to a meetin' to hear him speak, and he got sick and couldn't.” + +Warren Smith addressed the company. “Well, is this all for the present?” + he asked. “Is everything settled?” + +“Wait a minute,” said Keating. “I'd like to hear from the 'Herald' about +its policy, if Miss Sherwood will tell us.” + +“Yes, indeed,” she answered. “It will be very simple. Don't you think +there is only one course to pursue? We will advocate no one very +energetically, but we will print as much of the truth about Mr. McCune +as we can, with delicacy and honor, in this case, but, as I understand +it, the work is almost all to be done amongst the delegates. We shall +not mention our plan at all--but--but, when the convention is over, and +he is nominated, we will get out an extra; and I am so confident of your +success that I'll tell you now that the extra will be ready the night +before the convention. We will contrive that Mr. Harkless shall not +receive his copy of the paper containing the notice of the change of +date, and I think the chance of his seeing it in any Rouen paper may be +avoided. That is all, I think.” + +“Thank you,” said Keating. “That is certainly the course to follow.” + Every one nodded, or acquiesced in words; and Keating and Bence came +over to Helen and engaged her in conversation. The others began to look +about for their hats, vaguely preparing to leave. + +“Wait a minute,” said the judge. “There's no train due just now.” And +Minnie appeared in the doorway with a big pitcher of crab-apple cider, +rich and amber-hued, sparkling, cold, and redolent of the sweet-smelling +orchard where it was born. Behind Miss Briscoe came Mildy Upton with +glasses and a fat, shaking, four-storied jelly-cake on a second +tray. The judge passed his cigars around, and the gentlemen took them +blithely, then hesitatingly held them in their fingers and glanced at +the ladies, uncertain of permission. + +“Let me get you some matches,” Helen said, quickly, and found a box on +the table and handed it to Keating. Every one sat beaming, and fragrant +veils of smoke soon draped the room. + +“Why do you call her 'Miss Sherwood'?” Boswell whispered in Keating's +ear. + +“That's her name.” + +“Ain't she the daughter of that old fellow over there by the window? +Ain't her name Fisbee?” + +“No; she's his daughter, but her legal name's Sherwood; she's an +adop----” + +“Great Scott! I know all about that. I'd like to know if there's a man, +woman, or child in this part of the country that doesn't. I guess it +won't be Fisbee or Sherwood either very long. She can easy get a new +name, _that_ lady! And if she took a fancy to Boswell, why, I'm a +bach----” + +“I expect she won't take a fancy to Boswell very early,” said Keating. +“They say it will be Harkless.” + +“Go 'way,” returned Mr. Boswell. “What do you want to say that for? +Can't you bear for anybody to be happy a minute or two, now and then?” + +Warren Smith approached Helen and inquired if it would be asking too +much if they petitioned her for some music; so she went to the piano, +and sang some darky songs for them, with a quaint suggestion of the +dialect--two or three old-fashioned negro melodies of Foster's, followed +by some rollicking modern imitations with the movement and spirit of +a tinshop falling down a flight of stairs. Her audience listened in +delight from the first; but the latter songs quite overcame them with +pleasure and admiration, and before she finished, every head in the +room was jogging from side to side, and forward and back, in time to the +music, while every foot shuffled the measures on the carpet. + +When the gentlemen from out of town discovered that it was time to leave +if they meant to catch their train, Helen called to them to wait, and +they gathered about her. + +“Just one second,” she said, and she poured all the glasses full to the +brim; then, standing in the centre of the circle they made around her, +she said: + +“Before you go, shan't we pledge each other to our success in this +good, home-grown Indiana cider, that leaves our heads clear and our arms +strong? If you will--then--” She began to blush furiously and her voice +trembled, but she lifted the glass high over her head and cried bravely, +“Here's to 'Our Candidate'!” + +The big men, towering over her, threw back their heads and quaffed the +gentle liquor to the last drop. Then they sent up the first shout of the +campaign, and cheered John Harkless till the rafters rang. + +“My friends,” said Mr. Keating, as he and Boswell and the men from +Gaines drove away in Judd Bennett's omnibus, “my friends, here is where +I begin the warmest hustling I ever did. I want Harkless, everybody +wants him----” + +“It is a glorious idea,” said Mr. Bence. “The name of Harkless----” + +Keating drowned the oratory. “But that isn't all. That little girl wants +him to go to Congress, and that settles it. He goes.” + +That evening Minnie and her father were strolling up and down the front +walk together, between the flowered borders. + +“Do you give up?” asked the judge. + +“Give up what? No!” returned his daughter. + +“She hasn't told you?” + +“Not yet; she and Mr. Fisbee left for the office right after those men +went.” + +“Haven't you discovered what the 'something about politics' she's doing +for him is? Did you understand what she meant by 'Our Candidate'?” + +“Not exactly.” + +“Did you see her blush when she proposed that toast?” + +“Yes. So would anybody--with all those men, and their eyes hanging out +on their cheeks!” + +“Pooh! She got up the whole show. Do you know why?” + +“I only know it's politics.” + +“Politics!” He glanced over his shoulder, and then, leaning toward her, +he said, in a low tone: “I'll tell you in confidence, Minnie; she's +sending him to Congress!” + +“Ah!” she cried triumphantly. “If she loved him she wouldn't do _that_, +would she?” + +“Minnie!” Briscoe turned upon her sternly. “I don't want to hear any +more talk like that. It's the way with some papers to jibe at our great +institutions, and you've been reading them; that's the trouble with you. +The only criticism any one has any business making against Congress is +that it's too good for some of the men we send there. Congress is our +great virtue, understand; the congressmen are our fault.” + +“I didn't mean anything like that,” protested the girl. “I haven't been +reading any papers except the 'Herald.' I meant why should she send him +away if she cared about him?” + +“She'll go with him.” + +“They couldn't both go. What would become of the 'Herald'?” + +“They'd fix that easy enough; there are plenty of smart young fellows in +Rouen they could get to run it while they are in Washington.” + +“Mr. Harkless is sure to be elected, is he?” + +“He is, if he's nominated.” + +“Can't he get the nomination?” + +“Get it! Nobody ever happened to think of him for it till it came into +_her_ head; and the only thing I look to see standing in the way of it +is Harkless himself; but I expect we can leave it to her to manage, and +I guess she will. She's got more diplomacy than Blaine. Kedge Halloway +is up the spout all right, but they want to keep it quiet; that's why +she had them come here instead of the office.” + +“She wouldn't marry him a minute sooner because he went to Congress,” + said Minnie thoughtfully. + +“You're giving up,” he exclaimed. “You know I'm right.” + +“Wait and see. It might--No, you're wrong as wrong can be! I wish you +weren't. Don't you see? You're blind. She _couldn't_ do all these +things for him if she loved him. That's the very proof itself. I suppose +you--well, you can't understand.” + +“I'll tell you one thing,” he returned. “If she doesn't, the rest of it +won't amount to a rip with John Harkless.” + +“Yes, it will. Nobody could help liking to find himself as big a man as +he'll be when he comes back here. Besides, don't you see, it's her way +of making it up to him for not liking him as much as he wants. _You_ +give up, don't you?” + +“No,” he cried, with feeble violence, “I don't. She'll find out some +things about herself when she sees him again.” + +Minnie shook her head. + +There was a sound of wheels; the buckboard drew up at the gate, and +Helen, returning from her evening's labor, jumped out lightly, and ran +around to pat the horses' heads. “Thank you so much, Mr. Willetts,” she +said to the driver. “I know you will handle the two delegates you are +to look after as well as you do the judge's team; and you ought to, you +know, because the delegates are men. You dears!” She stroked the sleek +necks of the colts and handed them bunches of grass. + +Briscoe came out, and let the friendly animals nose his shoulder as he +looked gravely down on the piquant face beside him in the dusk. “Young +lady,” he said, “go East. Wait till we get on to Washington, and sit in +the gallery, and see John Harkless rise up in his place, and hear the +Speaker say: 'The Gentleman from Indiana!' I know the chills would go +up and down my spine, and I guess you'd feel pretty well paid for your +day's work. I guess we all would.” + +“Aren't you tired, Helen?” asked Minnie, coming to her in the darkness +and clasping her waist. + +“Tired? No; I'm happy. Did you ever see the stars so bright?” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. THE TREACHERY OF H. FISBEE + +An Indiana town may lie asleep a long time, but there always comes a day +when it wakes up; and Plattville had wakened in August when the “Herald” + became a daily and Eph Watts struck oil. It was then that history began +to be made. The “Herald” printed News, and the paper was sold every +morning at stands in all the towns in that section of the State. Its +circulation tripled. Parker talked of new presses; two men were added to +his staff, and a reporter was brought from Rouen to join Mr. Fisbee. The +“Herald” boomed the oil-field; people swarmed into town; the hotel was +crowded; strangers became no sensation whatever. A capitalist bought the +whole north side of the Square to erect new stores, and the Carlow Bank +began the construction of a new bank building of Bedford stone on Main +Street. Then it was whispered, next affirmed, that the “Herald” had +succeeded in another of its enterprises, and Main Street was to be +asphalted. That was the end of the “old days” of Plattville. + +There was a man who had laid the foundation upon which the new +Plattville was to be built; he who, through the quiet labor of years, +had stamped his spirit upon the people, as their own was stamped upon +him; but he lay sick in his friend's house and did not care. One day +Meredith found him propped up in bed, reading a letter--reading it +listlessly, and with a dull eye. + +“PLATTVILLE, _September 1st_. + +“_Dear Mr. Harkless_: Yours of the 30th received. Every one here is very +glad to know that your health is so far improved as to admit of your +writing; and it is our strongest hope that you will soon be completely +recovered. + +“New subscriptions are coming in at a slightly advanced rate since my +last letter; you will see they are distributed over several counties, +when you examine the books on your return; and I am glad to state that +with our arrangement for Gainesville the 'Herald' is now selling every +morning at a prominent store in all the towns within the radius we +determined on. Our plan of offering the daily with no advance on the +price of the former tri-weekly issue proves a success. I now propose +making the issue a quarto every day (at the same price) instead of once +a week. I think our experience warrants the experiment. It is my belief +that our present circulation will be increased forty per cent. Please +advise me if you approve. Of course this would mean a further increase +of our working force, and we should have to bring another man +from Rouen--possibly two more--but I think we need not fear such +enlargements. + +“I should tell you that I have taken you at your word entrusting me +with the entire charge of your interests here, and I had the store-room +adjoining the office put in shape, and offered it to the telegraph +company for half the rent they were paying in their former quarters over +the post-office. They have moved in; and this, in addition to giving us +our despatches direct, is a reduction of expense. + +“Mr. Watts informs me that the Standard's offer is liberal and the terms +are settled. The boom is not hollow, it is simply an awakening; and the +town, so long a dependent upon the impetus of agriculture or its trade, +is developing a prosperity of its own on other lines as well. Strangers +come every day; oil has lubricated every commercial joint. Contracts +have been let for three new brick business buildings to be erected on +the east side of the Square. The value of your Main Street frontage will +have doubled by December, and possibly you may see fit to tear away the +present building and put up another, instead; the investment might be +profitable. The 'Herald' could find room on the second and third floors, +and the first could be let to stores. + +“I regret that you find your copy of the paper for the 29th overlooked +in the mail and that your messenger could find none for you at the +newspaper offices in Rouen. Mr. Schofield was given directions in regard +to supplying you with the missing issue at once. + +“I fear that you may have had difficulty in deciphering some of my +former missives, as I was unfamiliar with the typewriter when I took +charge of the 'Herald'; however, I trust that you find my later letters +more legible. + +“The McCune people are not worrying us; we are sure to defeat them. The +papers you speak of were found by Mr. Parker in your trunk, and are now +in my hands. + +“I send with this a packet of communications and press clippings +indicative of the success of the daily, and in regard to other +innovations. The letters from women commendatory of our 'Woman's Page,' +thanking us for various house-keeping receipts, etc., strike me as +peculiarly interesting, as I admit that a 'Woman's Page' is always a +difficult matter for a man to handle without absurdity. + +“Please do not think I mean to plume myself upon our various successes; +we attempted our innovations and enlargements at just the right time--a +time which you had ripened by years of work and waiting, and at the +moment when you had built up the reputation of the 'Herald' to its +highest point. Everything that has been done is successful only because +you paved the way, and because every one knows it is your paper; and the +people believe that whatever your paper does is interesting and right. + +“Trusting that your recovery will be rapid, I am + +“Yours truly, + +“H. FISBEE.” + +Harkless dropped the typewritten sheets with a sigh. + +“I suppose I ought to get well,” he said wearily. + +“Yes,” said Meredith, “I think you ought; but you're chock full of +malaria and fever and all kinds of meanness, and----” + +“You 'tend to your own troubles,” returned the other, with an imitation +of liveliness. “I--I don't think it interests me much,” he said +querulously. He was often querulous of late, and it frightened Tom. “I'm +just tired. I am strong enough--that is, I think I am till I try to move +around, and then I'm like a log, and a lethargy gets me--that's it; I +don't think it's malaria; it's lethargy.” + +“Lethargy comes from malaria.” + +“It's the other way with me. I'd be all right if I only could get over +this--this tiredness. Let me have that pencil and pad, will you, please, +Tom?” + +He set the pad on his knee, and began to write languidly: + + “ROUEN, _September 2d_. + +“_Dear Mr. Fisbee_: Yours of the 1st to hand. I entirely approve all +arrangements you have made. I think you understand that I wish you to +regard _everything_ as in your own hands. You are the editor of the +'Herald' and have the sole responsibility for everything, including +policy, until, after proper warning, I relieve you in person. But until +that time comes, you must look upon me as a mere spectator. I do not +fear that you will make any mistakes; you have done very much better in +all matters than I could have done myself. At present I have only +one suggestion: I observe that your editorials concerning Halloway's +renomination are something lukewarm. + +“It is very important that he be renominated, not altogether on account +of assuring his return to Washington (for he is no Madison, I fear), but +the fellow McCune must be so beaten that his defeat will be remembered +for twenty years. Halloway is honest and clean, at least, while McCune +is corrupt to the bone. He has been bought and sold, and I am glad the +proofs of it are in your hands, as you tell me Parker found them, as +directed, in my trunk, and gave them to you. + +“The papers you hold drove him out of politics once, by the mere threat +of publication; you should have printed them last week, as I suggested. +Do so at once; the time is short. You have been too gentle; it has +the air of fearing to offend, and of catering, as if we were afraid of +antagonizing people against us; as though we had a personal stake in the +convention. Possibly you consider our subscription books as such; I do +not. But if they are, go ahead twice as hard. What if it does give the +enemy a weapon in case McCune is nominated; if he is (and I begin to +see a danger of it) we will be with the enemy. I do not carry my +partisanship so far as to help elect Mr. McCune to Congress. You have +been as non-committal in your editorials as if this were a fit time for +delicacy and the cheaper conception of party policy. My notion of party +policy--no new one--is that the party which considers the public +service before it considers itself will thrive best in the long run. The +'Herald' is a little paper (not so little nowadays, after all, thanks to +you), but it is an honest one, and it isn't afraid of Rod McCune and his +friends. He is to be beaten, understand, if we have to send him to the +penitentiary on an old issue to do it. And if the people wish to believe +us cruel or vengeful, let them. Please let me see as hearty a word as +you can say for Halloway, also. You can write with ginger; please show +some in this matter. + +“My condition is improved. + + “I am, very truly yours, + + “JOHN HARKLESS.” + +When the letter was concluded, he handed it to Meredith. “Please address +that, put a 'special' on it, and send it, Tom. It should go at once, so +as to reach him by to-night.” + +“H. Fisbee?” + +“Yes; H. Fisbee.” + +“I believe it does you good to write, boy,” said the other, as he bent +over him. “You look more chirrupy than you have for several days.” + +“It's that beast, McCune; young Fisbee is rather queer about it, and +I felt stirred up as I went along.” But even before the sentence was +finished the favor of age and utter weariness returned, and the dark +lids closed over his eyes. They opened again, slowly, and he took the +others hand and looked up at him mournfully, but as it were his soul +shone forth in dumb and eloquent thanks. + +“I--I'm giving you a jolly summer, Tom,” he said, with a quivering +effort to smile. “Don't you think I am? I don't--I don't know what I +should have--done----” + +“You old Indian!” said Meredith, tenderly. + +Three days later, Tom was rejoiced by symptoms of invigoration in his +patient. A telegram came for Harkless, and Meredith, bringing it into +the sick room, was surprised to find the occupant sitting straight up on +his couch without the prop of pillows. He was reading the day's copy of +the “Herald,” and his face was flushed and his brow stern. + +“What's the matter, boy?” + +“Mismanagement, I hope,” said the other, in a strong voice. “Worse, +perhaps. It's this young Fisbee. I can't think what's come over the +fellow. I thought he was a rescuing angel, and he's turning out bad. +I'll swear it looks like they'd been--well, I won't say that yet. But +he hasn't printed that McCune business I told you of, and he's had two +days. There is less than a week before the convention, and--” He broke +off, seeing the yellow envelope in Meredith's hand. “Is that a telegram +for me?” His companion gave it to him. He tore it open and read the +contents. They were brief and unhappy. + +“Can't you do something? Can't you come down? It begins to look the +other way. + +“K. H.” + + +“It's from Halloway,” said John. “I have got to go. What did that doctor +say?” + +“He said two weeks at the earliest, or you'll run into typhoid and +complications from your hurts, and even pleasanter things than that. +I've got you here, and here you stay; so lie back and get easy, boy.” + +“Then give me that pad and pencil.” He rapidly dashed off a note to H. +Fisbee: + +“_September 5th_. + +“H. FISBEE, + +“Editor 'Carlow Herald.' + +“_Dear Sir_: You have not acknowledged my letter of the 2d September by +a note (which should have reached me the following morning), or by +the alteration in the tenor of my columns which I requested, or by the +publication of the McCune papers which I directed. In this I hold you +grossly at fault. If you have a conscientious reason for refusing to +carry out my request it should have been communicated to me at once, +as should the fact--if such be the case--that you are a personal (or +impersonal, if you like) friend of Mr. Rodney McCune. Whatever the +motive, ulterior or otherwise, which prevents you from operating my +paper as I direct, I should have been informed of it. This is a matter +vital to the interests of our community, and you have hitherto shown +yourself too alert in accepting my slightest suggestion for me to +construe this failure as negligence. Negligence I might esteem as at +least honest and frank; your course has been neither the one nor the +other. + +“You will receive this letter by seven this evening by special delivery. +You will print the facts concerning McCune in to-morrow morning's paper. + +“I am well aware of the obligations under which your extreme efficiency +and your thoughtfulness in many matters have placed me. It is to you I +owe my unearned profits from the transaction in oil, and it is to you +I owe the 'Herald's' extraordinary present circulation, growth of power +and influence. That power is still under my direction, and is an added +responsibility which shall not be misapplied. + +“You must forgive me if I write too sharply. You see I have failed to +understand your silence; and if I wrong you I heartily ask your pardon +in advance of your explanation. Is it that you are sorry for McCune? It +would be a weak pity that could keep you to silence. I warned him long +ago that the papers you hold would be published if he ever tried to +return to political life, and he is deliberately counting on my physical +weakness and absence. Let him rely upon it; I am not so weak as he +thinks. Personally, I cannot say that I dislike Mr. McCune. I have found +him a very entertaining fellow; it is said he is the best of husbands, +and a friend to some of his friends, and, believe me, I am sorry for him +from the bottom of my heart. But the 'Herald' is not. + +“You need not reply by letter. To-morrow's issue answers for you. Until +I have received a copy, I withhold my judgment. + +“JOHN HARKLESS.” + +The morrow's issue--that fateful print on which depended John Harkless's +opinion of H. Fisbee's integrity--contained an editorial addressed +to the delegates of the convention, warning them to act for the vital +interest of the community, and declaring that the opportunity to be +given them in the present convention was a rare one, a singular piece of +good fortune indeed; they were to have the chance to vote for a man who +had won the love and respect of every person in the district--one who +had suffered for his championship of righteousness--one whom even his +few political enemies confessed they held in personal affection and +esteem--one who had been the inspiration of a new era--one whose life +had been helpfulness, whose hand had reached out to every struggler +and unfortunate--a man who had met and faced danger for the sake of +others--one who lived under a threat for years, and who had been almost +overborne in the fulfilment of that threat, but who would live to see +the sun shine on his triumph, the tribute the convention would bring +him as a gift from a community that loved him. His name needed not to be +told; it was on every lip that morning, and in every heart. + +Tom was eagerly watching his companion as he read. Harkless fell back +on the pillows with a drawn face, and for a moment he laid his thin hand +over his eyes in a gesture of intense pain. + +“What is it?” Meredith said quickly. + +“Give me the pad, please.” + +“What is it, boy?” + +The other's teeth snapped together. + +“What is it?” he cried. “What is it? It's treachery, and the worst I +ever knew. Not a word of the accusation I demanded--lying _praises_ +instead! Read that editorial--there, _there_!” He struck the page +with the back of his hand, and threw the paper to Meredith. “Read that +miserable lie! 'One who has won the love and respect of every person +in the district!'--'One who has suffered for his championship of +righteousness!' _Righteousness!_ Save the mark!” + +“What does it mean?” + +“Mean! It means McCune--Rod McCune, 'who has lived under a threat for +years'--_my_ threat! I swore I would print him out of Indiana if he ever +raised his head again, and he knew I could. 'Almost overborne in the +fulfilment of that threat!' _Almost_! It's a black scheme, and I see it +now. This man came to Plattville and went on the 'Herald' for nothing +in the world but this. It's McCune's hand all along. He daren't name +him even now, the coward! The trick lies between McCune and young +Fisbee--the old man is innocent. Give me the pad. Not _almost_ +overborne. There are three good days to work in, and, by the gods +of Perdition, if Rod McCune sees Congress it will be in his next +incarnation!” + +He rapidly scribbled a few lines on the pad, and threw the sheets to +Meredith. “Get those telegrams to the Western Union office in a rush, +please. Read them first.” + +With a very red face Tom read them. One was addressed to H. Fisbee: + +“You are relieved from the cares of editorship. You will turn over the +management of the 'Herald' to Warren Smith. You will give him the McCune +papers. If you do not, or if you destroy them, you cannot hide where I +shall not find you. + + “JOHN HARKLESS.” + +The second was to Warren Smith: “Take possession 'Herald.' Dismiss H. +Fisbee. This your authority. Publish McCune papers so labelled which H. +Fisbee will hand you. Letter follows. Beat McCune. + + “JOHN HARKLESS.” + +The author of the curt epistles tossed restlessly on his couch, but +the reader of them stared, incredulous and dumfounded, uncertain of +his command of gravity. His jaw fell, and his open mouth might have +betokened a being smit to imbecility; and, haply, he might be, for Helen +had written him from Plattville, pledging his honor to secrecy with the +first words, and it was by her command that he had found excuses for +not supplying his patient with all the papers which happened to contain +references to the change of date for the Plattville convention. And +Meredith had known for some time where James Fisbee had found a “young +relative” to be the savior of the “Herald” for his benefactor's sake. + +“You mean--you--intend to--you discharge young Fisbee?” he stammered at +last. + +“Yes! Let me have the answers the instant they come, will you, Tom?” + Then Harkless turned his face from the wall and spoke through his teeth: +“I mean to see H. Fisbee before many days; I want to talk to him!” + +But, though he tossed and fretted himself into what the doctor +pronounced a decidedly improved state, no answer came to either telegram +that day or night. The next morning a messenger boy stumbled up the +front steps and handed the colored man, Jim, four yellow envelopes, +night messages. Three of them were for Harkless, one was for Meredith. +Jim carried them upstairs, left the three with his master's guest, then +knocked on his master's door. + +“What is it?” answered a thick voice. Meredith had not yet risen. + +“A telegraph. Mist' Tawm.” + +There was a terrific yawn. “O-o-oh! Slide it--oh--under the--door.” + +“Yessuh.” + +Meredith lay quite without motion for several minutes, sleepily watching +the yellow rhomboid in the crevice. It was a hateful looking thing to +come mixing in with pleasant dreams and insist upon being read. After a +while he climbed groaningly out of bed, and read the message with heavy +eyes, still half asleep. He read it twice before it penetrated: + +“Suppress all newspapers to-day. Convention meets at eleven. If we +succeed a delegation will come to Rouen this afternoon. They will come. + + “HELEN.” + + +Tom rubbed his sticky eyelids, and shook his head violently in a Spartan +effort to rouse himself; but what more effectively performed the task +for him were certain sounds issuing from Harkless's room, across the +hall. For some minutes, Meredith had been dully conscious of a rustle +and stir in the invalid's chamber, and he began to realize that no mere +tossing about a bed would account for a noise that reached him across +a wide hall and through two closed doors of thick walnut. Suddenly he +heard a quick, heavy tread, shod, in Harkless's room, and a resounding +bang, as some heavy object struck the floor. The doctor was not to come +till evening; Jim had gone down-stairs. Who wore shoes in the sick +man's room? He rushed across the hall in his pyjamas and threw open the +unlocked door. + +The bed was disarranged and vacant. Harkless, fully dressed, was +standing in the middle of the floor, hurling garments at a big +travelling bag. + +The horrified Meredith stood for a second, bleached and speechless, then +he rushed upon his friend and seized him with both hands. + +“Mad, by heaven! Mad!” + +“Let go of me, Tom!” + +“Lunatic! Lunatic!” + +“Don't stop me one instant!” + +Meredith tried to force him toward the bed. “For mercy's sake, get back +to bed. You're delirious, boy!” + +“Delirious nothing. I'm a well man.” + +“Go to bed--go to bed.” + +Harkless set him out of the way with one arm. “Bed be hanged!” he cried. +“I'm going to Plattville!” + +Meredith wrung his hands. “The doctor----“! + +“Doctor be damned!” + +“Will you tell me what has happened, John?” + +His companion slung a light overcoat, unfolded, on the overflowing, +misshapen bundle of clothes that lay in the bag; then he jumped on the +lid with both feet and kicked the hasp into the lock; a very elegantly +laundered cuff and white sleeve dangling out from between the fastened +lids. “I haven't one second to talk, Tom; I have seventeen minutes to +catch the express, and it's a mile and a half to the station; the train +leaves here at eight fifty, I get to Plattville at ten forty-seven. +Telephone for a cab for me, please, or tell me the number; I don't want +to stop to hunt it up.” + +Meredith looked him in the eyes. In the pupils of Harkless flared a +fierce light. His cheeks were reddened with an angry, healthy glow, and +his teeth were clenched till the line of his jaw stood out like that +of an embattled athlete in sculpture; his brow was dark; his chest was +thrown out, and he took deep, quick breaths; his shoulders were squared, +and in spite of his thinness they looked massy. Lethargy, or malaria, or +both, whatever were his ailments, they were gone. He was six feet of hot +wrath and cold resolution. + +Tom said: “You are going?” + +“Yes,” he answered, “I am going.” + +“Then I will go with you.” + +“Thank you, Tom,” said the other quietly. + +Meredith ran into his own room, pressed an electric button, sprang out +of his pyjamas like Aphrodite from the white sea-foam, and began to dive +into his clothes with a panting rapidity astonishingly foreign to his +desire. Jim appeared in the doorway. + +“The cart, Jim,” shouted his master. “We want it like lightning. Tell +the cook to give Mr. Harkless his breakfast in a hurry. Set a cup of +coffee on the table by the front door for me. Run like the deuce! We've +got to catch a train.--That will be quicker than any cab,” he explained +to Harkless. “We'll break the ordinance against fast driving, getting +down there.” + +Ten minutes later the cart swept away from the house at a gait which +pained the respectable neighborhood. The big horse plunged through the +air, his ears laid flat toward his tail; the cart careened sickeningly; +the face of the servant clutching at the rail in the rear was smeared +with pallor as they pirouetted around curves on one wheel--to him it +seemed they skirted the corners and Death simultaneously--and the speed +of their going made a strong wind in their faces. + +Harkless leaned forward. + +“Can you make it a little faster, Tom?” he said. + +They dashed up to the station amid the cries of people flying to the +walls for safety; the two gentlemen leaped from the cart, bore down upon +the ticket-office, stormed at the agent, and ran madly at the gates, +flourishing their passports. The official on duty eyed them wearily, and +barred the way. + +“Been gone two minutes,” he remarked, with a peaceable yawn. + +Harkless stamped his foot on the cement flags; then he stood stock +still, gazing at the empty tracks; but Meredith turned to him, smiling. + +“Won't it keep?” he asked. + +“Yes, it will keep,” John answered. “Part of it may have to keep till +election day, but some of it I will settle before night. And that,” he +cried, between his teeth, “and that is the part of it in regard to young +Mr. Fisbee!” + +“Oh, it's about H. Fisbee, is it?” + +“Yes, it's H. Fisbee.” + +“Well, we might as well go up and see what the doctor thinks of you; +there's no train.” + +“I don't want to see a doctor again, ever--as long as I live. I'm as +well as anybody.” + +Tom burst out laughing, and clapped his companion lightly on the +shoulder, his eyes dancing with pleasure. + +“Upon my soul,” he cried, “I believe you are! It's against all my +tradition, and I see I am the gull of poetry; for I've always believed +it to be beyond question that this sort of miracle was wrought, not by +rage, but by the tenderer senti--” Tom checked himself. “Well, let's +take a drive.” + +“Meredith,” said the other, turning to him gravely, “you may think me a +fool, if you will, and it's likely I am; but I don't leave this station +except by train. I've only two days to work in, and every minute lessens +our chances to beat McCune, and I have to begin by wasting time on a +tussle with a traitor. There's another train at eleven fifty-five; I +don't take any chances on missing that one.” + +“Well, well,” laughed his friend, pushing him good-humoredly toward a +door by a red and white striped pillar, “we'll wait here, if you like; +but at least go in there and get a shave; it's a clean shop. You want to +look your best if you are going down to fight H. Fisbee.” + +“Take these, then, and you will understand,” said Harkless; and +he thrust his three telegrams of the morning into Tom's hand and +disappeared into the barber-shop. When he was gone, Meredith went to the +telegraph office in the station, and sent a line over the wire to Helen: + +“Keep your delegation at home. He's coming on the 11.55.” + +Then he read the three telegrams Harkless had given him. They were all +from Plattville: + +“Sorry cannot oblige. Present incumbent tenacious. Unconditionally +refuses surrender. Delicate matter. No hope for K. H. But don't worry. +Everything all right. + + “WARREN SMITH.” + + +“Harkless, if you have the strength to walk, come down before the +convention. Get here by 10.47. Looks bad. Come if it kills you. + + “K. H.” + +“You entrusted me with sole responsibility for all matters pertaining +to 'Herald.' Declared yourself mere spectator. Does this permit your +interfering with my policy for the paper? Decline to consider any +proposition to relieve me of my duties without proper warning and +allowance of time. + + “H. FISBEE.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE GREAT HARKLESS COMES HOME + +The accommodation train wandered languidly through the early afternoon +sunshine, stopping at every village and almost every country post-office +on the line; the engine toot-tooting at the road crossings; and, now and +again, at such junctures, a farmer, struggling with a team of prancing +horses, would be seen, or, it might be, a group of school children, +homeward bound from seats of learning. At each station, when the train +came to a stand-still, some passenger, hanging head and elbows out of +his window, like a quilt draped over a chair, would address a citizen on +the platform: + +“Hey, Sam, how's Miz Bushkirk?” + +“She's wal.” + +“Where's Milt, this afternoon?” + +“Warshing the buggy.” Then at the cry, “All 'board”--“See you Sunday +over at Amo.” + +“You make Milt come. I'll be there, shore. So long.” + +There was an impatient passenger in the smoker, who found the stoppages +at these wayside hamlets interminable, both in frequency and in the +delay at each of them; and while the dawdling train remained inert, and +the moments passed inactive, his eyes dilated and his hand clenched till +the nails bit his palm; then, when the trucks groaned and the wheels +crooned against the rails once more, he sank back in his seat with +sighs of relief. Sometimes he would get up and pace the aisle until his +companion reminded him that this was not certain to hasten the hour of +their arrival at their destination. + +“I know that,” answered the other, “but I've got to beat McCune.” + +“By the way,” observed Meredith, “you left your stick behind.” + +“You don't think I need a club to face----” + +Tom choked. “Oh, no. I wasn't thinking of your giving H. Fisbee a +thrashing. I meant to lean on.” + +“I don't want it. I've got to walk lame all my life, but I'm not going +to hobble on a stick.” Tom looked at him sadly; for it was true, and the +Cross-Roaders might hug themselves in their cells over the thought. For +the rest of his life John Harkless was to walk with just the limp they +themselves would have had, if, as in former days, their sentence had +been to the ball and chain. + +The window was open beside the two young men, and the breeze swept in, +fresh from the wide fields, There was a tang in the air; it soothed like +a balm, but there was a spur to energy and heartiness in its crispness, +the wholesome touch of fall. John looked out over the boundless aisles +of corn that stood higher than a tall man could reach; long waves +rippled across them. Here, where the cry of the brave had rung in forest +glades, where the painted tribes had hastened, were marshalled the +tasselled armies of peace. And beyond these, where the train ran between +shadowy groves, delicate landscape vistas, framed in branches, opened, +closed, and succeeded each other, and then the travellers were carried +out into the level open again, and the intensely blue September skies +ran down to the low horizon, meeting the tossing plumes of corn. + +It takes a long time for the full beauty of the flat lands to reach a +man's soul; once there, nor hills, nor sea, nor growing fan leaves of +palm shall suffice him. It is like the beauty in the word “Indiana.” It +may be that there are people who do not consider “Indiana” a beautiful +word; but once it rings true in your ears it has a richer sound than +“Vallombrosa.” + +There was a newness in the atmosphere that day, a bright invigoration, +that set the blood tingling. The hot months were done with, languor was +routed. Autumn spoke to industry, told of the sowing of another harvest, +of the tawny shock, of the purple grape, of the red apple, and called +upon muscle and laughter; breathed gaiety into men's hearts. The little +stations hummed with bustle and noise; big farm wagons rattled away and +raced with cut-under or omnibus; people walked with quick steps; the +baggage-masters called cheerily to the trainmen, and the brakemen +laughed good-bys to rollicking girls. + +As they left Gainesville three children, clad in calico, barefoot and +bareheaded, came romping out of a log cabin on the outskirts of the +town, and waved their hands to the passengers. They climbed on the +sagging gate in front of their humble domain, and laughed for joy to see +the monstrous caravan come clattering out of the unknown, bearing the +faces by. The smallest child, a little cherubic tow-head, whose cheeks +were smeared with clean earth and the tracks of forgotten tears, stood +upright on a fence-post, and blew the most impudent of kisses to the +strangers on a journey. + +Beyond this they came into a great plain, acres and acres of green +rag-weed where the wheat had grown, all so flat one thought of an +enormous billiard table, and now, where the railroad crossed the country +roads, they saw the staunch brown thistle, sometimes the sumach, +and always the graceful iron-weed, slender, tall, proud, bowing a +purple-turbaned head, or shaking in an agony of fright when it stood +too close to the train. The fields, like great, flat emeralds set in +new metal, were bordered with golden-rod, and at sight of this the heart +leaped; for the golden-rod is a symbol of stored granaries, of ripe +sheaves, of the kindness of the season generously given and abundantly +received; more, it is the token of a land of promise and of bounteous +fulfilment; and the plant stains its blossom with yellow so that when it +falls it pays tribute to the ground which has nourished it. + +From the plain they passed again into a thick wood, where ruddy arrows +of the sun glinted among the boughs; and, here and there, one saw a +courtly maple or royal oak wearing a gala mantle of crimson and +pale brown, gallants of the forest preparing early for the October +masquerade, when they should hold wanton carnival, before they stripped +them of their finery for pious gray. + +And when the coughing engine drew them to the borders of this wood, they +rolled out into another rich plain of green and rust-colored corn; and +far to the south John Harkless marked a winding procession of sycamores, +which, he knew, followed the course of a slender stream; and the waters +of the stream flowed by a bank where wild thyme might have grown, and +where, beyond an orchard and a rose-garden, a rustic bench was placed in +the shade of the trees; and the name of the stream was Hibbard's Creek. +Here the land lay flatter than elsewhere; the sky came closer, with a +gentler benediction; the breeze blew in, laden with keener spices; +there was the flavor of apples and the smell of the walnut and a hint +of coming frost; the immeasurable earth lay more patiently to await the +husbandman; and the whole world seemed to extend flat in line with the +eye--for this was Carlow County. + +All at once the anger ran out of John Harkless; he was a hard man for +anger to tarry with. And in place of it a strong sense of home-coming +began to take possession of him. He was going home. “Back to Plattville, +where I belong,” he had said; and he said it again without bitterness, +for it was the truth. “Every man cometh to his own place in the end.” + +Yes, as one leaves a gay acquaintance of the playhouse lobby for +some hard-handed, tried old friend, so he would wave the outer world +God-speed and come back to the old ways of Carlow. What though the years +were dusty, he had his friends and his memories and his old black brier +pipe. He had a girl's picture that he should carry in his heart till his +last day; and if his life was sadder, it was infinitely richer for it. +His winter fireside should be not so lonely for her sake; and losing +her, he lost not everything, for he had the rare blessing of having +known her. And what man could wish to be healed of such a hurt? Far +better to have had it than to trot a smug pace unscathed. + +He had been a dullard; he had lain prostrate in the wretchedness of his +loss. “A girl you could put in your hat--and there you have a strong +man prone.” He had been a sluggard, weary of himself, unfit to fight, a +failure in life and a failure in love. That was ended; he was tired of +failing, and it was time to succeed for a while. To accept the worst +that Fate can deal, and to wring courage from it instead of despair, +that is success; and it was the success that he would have. He would +take Fate by the neck. But had it done him unkindness? He looked out +over the beautiful, “monotonous” landscape, and he answered heartily, +“No!” There was ignorance in man, but no unkindness; were man utterly +wise he were utterly kind. The Cross-Roaders had not known better; that +was all. + +The unfolding aisles of corn swam pleasantly before John's eyes. The +earth hearkened to man's wants and answered; the clement sun and summer +rains hastened the fruition. Yonder stood the brown haystack, garnered +to feed the industrious horse who had earned his meed; there was the +straw-thatched shelter for the cattle. How the orchard boughs bent with +their burdens! The big red barns stood stored with the harvested wheat; +and, beyond the pasture-lands, tall trees rose against the benign sky to +feed the glance of a dreamer; the fertile soil lay lavender and glossy +in the furrow. The farmhouses were warmly built and hale and strong; no +winter blast should rage so bitterly as to shake them, or scatter the +hospitable embers on the hearth. For this was Carlow County, and he was +coming home. + +They crossed a by-road. An old man with a streaky gray chin-beard was +sitting on a sack of oats in a seatless wagon, waiting for the train to +pass. Harkless seized his companion excitedly by the elbow. + +“Tommy!” he cried. “It's Kim Fentriss--look! Did you see that old +fellow?” + +“I saw a particularly uninterested and uninteresting gentleman sitting +on a bag,” replied his friend. + +“Why, that's old Kimball Fentriss. He's going to town; he lives on the +edge of the county.” + +“Can this be true?” said Meredith gravely. + +“I wonder,” said Harkless thoughtfully, a few moments later, “I wonder +why he had them changed around.” + +“Who changed around?” + +“The team. He always used to drive the bay on the near side, and the +sorrel on the off.” + +“And at present,” rejoined Meredith, “I am to understand that he is +driving the sorrel on the near side, and bay on the off?” + +“That's it,” returned the other. “He must have worked them like that for +some time, because they didn't look uneasy. They're all right about the +train, those two. I've seen them stand with their heads almost against +a fast freight. See there!” He pointed to a white frame farmhouse with +green blinds. “That's Win Hibbard's. We're just outside of Beaver.” + +“Beaver? Elucidate Beaver, boy!” + +“Beaver? Meredith, your information ends at home. What do you know of +your own State if you are ignorant of Beaver. Beaver is that city of +Carlow County next in importance and population to Plattville.” + +Tom put his head out of the window. “I fancy you are right,” he said. “I +already see five people there.” + +Meredith had observed the change in his companion's mood. He had watched +him closely all day, looking for a return of his malady; but he came +to the conclusion that in truth a miracle had been wrought, for the +lethargy was gone, and vigor seemed to increase in Harkless with every +turn of the wheels that brought them nearer Plattville; and the nearer +they drew to Plattville the higher the spirits of both the young men +rose. Meredith knew what was happening there, and he began to be a +little excited. As he had said, there were five people visible at +Beaver; and he wondered where they lived, as the only building in sight +was the station, and to satisfy his curiosity he walked out to the +vestibule. The little station stood in deep woods, and brown leaves +whirled along the platform. One of the five people was an old lady, and +she entered a rear car. The other four were men. One of them handed the +conductor a telegram. + +Meredith heard the official say, “All right. Decorate ahead. I'll hold +it five minutes.” + +The man sprang up the steps of the smoker and looked in. He turned +to Meredith: “Do you know if that gentleman in the gray coat is Mr. +Harkless? He's got his back this way, and I don't want to go inside. +The--the air in a smoker always gives me a spell.” + +“Yes, that's Mr. Harkless.” + +The man jumped to the platform. “All right, boys,” he said. “Rip her +out.” + +The doors of the freight-room were thrown open, and a big bundle of +colored stuffs was dragged out and hastily unfolded. One of the men +ran to the further end of the car with a strip of red, white and blue +bunting, and tacked it securely, while another fastened the other +extremity to the railing of the steps by Meredith. The two companions of +this pair performed the same operation with another strip on the other +side of the car. They ran similar strips of bunting along the roof from +end to end, so that, except for the windows, the car was completely +covered by the national colors. Then they draped the vestibules with +flags. It was all done in a trice. + +Meredith's heart was beating fast. “What's it all about?” he asked. + +“Picnic down the line,” answered the man in charge, removing a tack from +his mouth. He motioned to the conductor, “Go ahead.” + +The wheels began to move; the decorators remained on the platform, +letting the train pass them; but Meredith, craning his neck from the +steps, saw that they jumped on the last car. + +“What's the celebration?” asked Harkless, when Meredith returned. + +“Picnic down the line,” said Meredith. + +“Nipping weather for a picnic; a little cool, don't you think? One of +those fellows looked like a friend of mine. Homer Tibbs, or as Homer +might look if he were in disgrace. He had his hat hung on his eyes, and +he slouched like a thief in melodrama, as he tacked up the bunting +on this side of the car.” He continued to point out various familiar +places, finally breaking out enthusiastically, as they drew nearer the +town, “Hello! Look there--beyond the grove yonder! See that house?” + +“Yes, John.” + +“That's the Bowlders'. You've got to know the Bowlders.” + +“I'd like to.” + +“The kindest people in the world. The Briscoe house we can't see, +because it's so shut in by trees; and, besides, it's a mile or so ahead +of us. We'll go out there for supper to-night. Don't you like Briscoe? +He's the best they make. We'll go up town with Judd Bennett in the +omnibus, and you'll know how a rapid-fire machine gun sounds. I want +to go straight to the 'Herald' office,” he finished, with a suddenly +darkening brow. + +“After all, there may be some explanation,” Meredith suggested, with a +little hesitancy. “H. Fisbee might turn out more honest than you think.” + +Harkless threw his head back and laughed; it was the first time Meredith +had heard him laugh since the night of the dance in the country. +“Honest! A man in the pay of Rodney McCune! Well, we can let it wait +till we get there. Listen! There's the whistle that means we're getting +near home. By heaven, there's an oil-well!” + +“So it is.” + +“And another--three--five--seven--seven in sight at once! They tried it +three miles south and failed; but you can't fool Eph Watts, bless him! I +want you to know Watts.” + +They were running by the outlying houses of the town, amidst a thousand +descriptive exclamations from Harkless, who wished Meredith to meet +every one in Carlow. But he came to a pause in the middle of a word. + +“Do you hear music?” he asked abruptly. “Or is it only the rhythm of the +ties?” + +“It seems to me there's music in the air,” answered his companion. “I've +been fancying I heard it for a minute or so. There! No--yes. It's a +band, isn't it?” + +“No; what would a band----” + +The train slowed up, and stopped at a watertank, two hundred yards east +of the station, and their uncertainty was at an end. + +From somewhere down the track came the detonating boom of a cannon. +There was a dash of brass, and the travellers became aware of a band +playing “Marching through Georgia.” Meredith laid his hand on his +companion's shoulder. “John,” he said, “John----” The cannon fired +again, and there came a cheer from three thousand throats, the shouters +all unseen. + +The engine coughed and panted, the train rolled on, and in another +minute it had stopped alongside the station in the midst of a +riotous jam of happy people, who were waving flags and banners and +handkerchiefs, and tossing their hats high in the air, and shouting +themselves hoarse. The band played in dumb show; it could not hear +itself play. The people came at the smoker like a long wave, and Warren +Smith, Briscoe, Keating, and Mr. Bence of Gaines were swept ahead of +it. Before the train stopped they had rushed eagerly up the steps and +entered the car. + +Harkless was on his feet and started to meet them. He stopped. + +“What does it mean?” he said, and began to grow pale. “Is Halloway--did +McCune--have you----” + +Warren Smith seized one of his hands and Briscoe the other. “What does +it mean?” cried Warren; “it means that you were nominated for Congress +at five minutes after one-o'clock this afternoon.” + +“On the second ballot,” shouted the Judge, “just as young Fisbee planned +it, weeks ago.” + + +It was one of the great crowds of Carlow's history. They had known since +morning that he was coming home, and the gentlemen of the Reception +Committee had some busy hours; but long before the train arrived, +everything was ready. Homer Tibbs had done his work well at Beaver, and +the gray-haired veterans of a battery Carlow had sent out in '61 had +placed their worn old gun in position to fire salutes. At one-o'clock, +immediately after the nomination had been made unanimous, the Harkless +Clubs of Carlow, Amo, and Gaines, secretly organized during the quiet +agitation preceding the convention, formed on parade in the court-house +yard, and, with the Plattville Band at their head, paraded the streets +to the station, to make sure of being on hand when the train arrived--it +was due in a couple of hours. There they were joined by an increasing +number of glad enthusiasts, all noisy, exhilarated, red-faced with +shouting, and patriotically happy. As Mr. Bence, himself the spoiled +child of another county, generously said, in a speech, which (with no +outrageous pressure) he was induced to make during the long wait: +“The favorite son of Carlow is returning to his Lares and Penates like +another Cincinnatus accepting the call of the people; and, for the first +time in sixteen years, Carlow shall have a representative to bear the +banner of this district and the flaming torch of Progress sweeping on to +Washington and triumph like a speedy galleon of old. And his friends are +here to take his hand and do him homage, and the number of his friends +is as the number given in the last census of the population of the +counties of this district!” + +And, indeed, in this estimate the speaker seemed guilty of no great +exaggeration. A never intermittent procession of pedestrians and +vehicles made its way to the station; and every wagon, buckboard, buggy, +and cut-under had its flags or bunting, or streamer of ribbons tied to +the whip. The excitement increased as the time grew shorter; those +on foot struggled for better positions, and the people in wagons +and carriages stood upon seats, while the pedestrians besieged them, +climbing on the wheels, or balancing recklessly, with feet on the hubs +of opposite wagons. Everybody was bound to see _him_. When the whistle +announced the coming of the train, the band began to play, the cannon +fired, horns blew, and the cheering echoed and reechoed till heaven's +vault resounded with the noise the people of Carlow were making. + +There was one heart which almost stopped beating. Helen was standing on +the front seat of the Briscoe buckboard, with Minnie beside her, and, at +the commotion, the horses pranced and backed so that Lige Willetts ran +to hold them; but she did not notice the frightened roans, nor did she +know that Minnie clutched her round the waist to keep her from falling. +Her eyes were fixed intently on the smoke of the far-away engine, and +her hand, lifted to her face in an uncertain, tremulous fashion, as it +was one day in a circus tent, pressed against the deepest blush that +ever mantled a girl's cheek. When the train reached the platform, she +saw Briscoe and the others rush into the car, and there ensued what +was to her an almost intolerable pause of expectation, while the crowd +besieged the windows of the smoker, leaning up and climbing on each +other's shoulders to catch the first glimpse of _him_. Briscoe and a +red-faced young man, a stranger to Plattville, came down the steps, +laughing like boys, and then Keating and Bence, and then Warren Smith. +As the lawyer reached the platform, he turned toward the door of the car +and waved his hand as in welcome. + +“Here he is, boys!” he shouted, “Welcome Home!” At that it was as if +all the noise that had gone before had been mere leakage of pent-up +enthusiasm. A thousand horns blared deafeningly, the whistles of the +engine and of Hibbard's mill were added to the din, the court-house bell +was pealing out a welcome, and the church bells were ringing, the cannon +thundered, and then cheer on cheer shook the air, as John Harkless came +out under the flags, and passed down the steps of the car. + +When Helen saw him, over the heads of the people and through a flying +tumult of flags and hats and handkerchiefs, she gave one frightened +glance about her, and jumped down from her high perch, and sank into the +back seat of the buckboard with her burning face turned from the station +and her eyes fixed on the ground. She wanted to run away, as she had run +from him the first time she had ever seen him. Then, as now, he came +in triumph, hailed by the plaudits of his fellows; and now, as on that +long-departed day of her young girlhood, he was borne high over the +heads of the people, for Minnie cried to her to look; they were carrying +him on their shoulders to his carriage. She had had only that brief +glimpse of him, before he was lost in the crowd that was so glad to get +him back again and so proud of him; but she had seen that he looked very +white and solemn. + +Briscoe and Tom Meredith made their way through the crowd, and climbed +into the buckboard. “All right, Lige,” called the judge to Willetts, who +was at the horses' heads. “You go get into line with the boys; they want +you. We'll go down on Main Street to see the parade,” he explained to +the ladies, gathering the reins in his hand. + +He clucked to the roans, and by dint of backing and twisting and turning +and a hundred intricate manoeuvres, accompanied by entreaties +and remonstrances and objurgations, addressed to the occupants of +surrounding vehicles, he managed to extricate the buckboard from the +press; and once free, the team went down the road toward Main Street +at a lively gait. The judge's call to the colts rang out cheerily; his +handsome face was one broad smile. “This is a big day for Carlow,” he +said; “I don't remember a better day's work in twenty years.” + +“Did you tell him about Mr. Halloway?” asked Helen, leaning forward +anxiously. + +“Warren told him before we left the car,” answered Briscoe. “He'd have +declined on the spot, I expect, if we hadn't made him sure it was all +right with Kedge.” + +“If I understood what Mr. Smith was saying, Halloway must have behaved +very well,” said Meredith. + +The judge laughed. “He saw it was the only way to beat McCune, and he'd +have given his life and Harkless's, too, rather than let McCune have +it.” + +“Why didn't you stay with him, Tom?” asked Helen. + +“With Halloway? I don't know him.” + +“One forgives a generous hilarity anything, even such quips as that,” + she retorted. “Why did you not stay with Mr. Harkless?” + +“That's very hospitable of you,” laughed the young man. “You forget that +I have the felicity to sit at your side. Judge Briscoe has been kind +enough to ask me to review the procession from his buckboard and to sup +at his house with other distinguished visitors, and I have accepted.” + +“But didn't he wish you to remain with him?” + +“But this second I had the honor to inform you that I am here distinctly +by his invitation.” + +“_His_?” + +“Precisely, his. Judge Briscoe, Miss Sherwood will not believe that you +desire my presence. If I intrude, pray let me--” He made as if to spring +from the buckboard, and the girl seized his arm impatiently. + +“You are a pitiful nonsense-monger!” she cried; and for some reason +this speech made him turn his glasses upon her gravely. Her lashes fell +before his gaze, and at that he took her hand and kissed it quickly. + +“No, no,” she faltered. “You must not think it. It isn't--you see, +I--there is nothing!” + +“You shall not dull the edge of my hilarity,” he answered, “especially +since so much may be forgiven it.” + +“Why did you leave Mr. Harkless?” she asked, without raising her eyes. + +“My dear girl,” he replied, “because, for some inexplicable reason, my +lady cousin has not nominated me for Congress, but instead has chosen to +bestow that distinction upon another, and, I may say, an unworthier and +unfitter man than I. And, oddly enough, the non-discriminating multitude +were not cheering for me; the artillery was not in action to celebrate +me; the band was not playing to do me honor; therefore why should I ride +in the midst of a procession that knows me not? Why should I enthrone me +in an open barouche--a little faded and possibly not quite secure as to +its springs, but still a barouche--with four white horses to draw it, +and draped with silken flags, both barouche and steeds? Since these +things were not for me, I flew to your side to dissemble my spleen under +the licensed prattle of a cousin.” + +“Then who _is_ with him?” + +“The population of this portion of our State, I take it.” + +“Oh, it's all right,” said the judge, leaning back to speak to Helen. +“Keating and Smith and your father are to ride in the carriage with him. +You needn't be afraid of any of them letting him know that H. Fisbee is +a lady. Everybody understands about that; of course they know it's to be +left to you to break it to him how well a girl has run his paper.” The +old gentleman chuckled, and looked out of the corner of his eye at his +daughter, whose expression was inscrutable. + +“I!” cried Helen. “_I_ tell him! No one must tell him. He need never +know it.” + +Briscoe reached back and patted her cheek. “How long do you suppose he +will be here in Plattville without it's leaking out?” + +“But they kept guard over him for months and nobody told him.” + +“Ah,” said Briscoe, “but this is different.” + +“No, no, no!” she exclaimed. “It _must_ be kept from him somehow!” + +“He'll know it by to-morrow, so you'd better tell him this evening.” + +“This evening?” + +“Yes. You'll have a good chance.” + +“I will?” + +“He's coming to supper with us. He and your father, of course, and +Keating and Bence and Boswell and Smith and Tom Martin and Lige. We're +going to have a big time, with you and Minnie to do the honors; and +we're all coming into town afterwards for the fireworks; I'll let him +drive you in the phaeton. You'll have plenty of time to talk it over +with him and tell him all about it.” + +Helen gave a little gasp. “Never!” she cried. “Never!” + +The buckboard stopped on the “Herald” corner, and here, and along Main +Street, the line of vehicles which had followed it from the station took +their places. The Square was almost a solid mass of bunting, and the +north entrance of the court-house had been decorated with streamers and +flags, so as to make it a sort of stand. Hither the crowd was already +streaming, and hither the procession made its way. At intervals the +cannon boomed, and Schofields' Henry was winnowing the air with his +bell; nobody had a better time that day than Schofields' Henry, except +old Wilkerson, who was with the procession. + +In advance, came the boys, whooping and somersaulting, and behind them, +rode a band of mounted men, sitting their horses like cavalrymen, led by +the sheriff and his deputy and Jim Bardlock; then followed the Harkless +Club of Amo, led by Boswell, with the magnanimous Halloway himself +marching in the ranks; and at sight of this the people shouted like +madmen. But when Helen's eye fell upon his fat, rather unhappy face, she +felt a pang of pity and unreasoning remorse, which warned her that he +who looks upon politics when it is red must steel his eyes to see many a +man with the heart-burn. After the men of Amo, came the Harkless Club +of Gainesville, Mr. Bence in the van with the step of a grenadier. There +followed next, Mr. Ephraim Watts, bearing a light wand in his hand and +leading a detachment of workers from the oil-fields in their stained +blue overalls and blouses; and, after them, came Mr. Martin and Mr. +Landis at the head of an organization recognized in the “Order of +Procession,” printed in the “Herald,” as the Business Men of Plattville. +They played in such magnificent time that every high-stepping foot in +all the line came down with the same jubilant plunk, and lifted again +with a unanimity as complete as that of the last vote the convention had +taken that day. The leaders of the procession set a brisk pace, and who +could have set any other kind of a pace when on parade to the strains of +such a band, playing such a tune as “A New Coon in Town,” with all its +might and main? + +But as the line swung into the Square, there came a moment when the tune +was ended, the musicians paused for breath, and there fell comparative +quiet. Amongst the ranks of Business Men ambled Mr. Wilkerson, singing +at the top of his voice, and now he could be heard distinctly enough +for those near to him to distinguish the melody with which it was his +intention to favor the public: + + “Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + As we go marching on.” + +The words, the air, that husky voice, recalled to the men of Carlow +another day and another procession, not like this one. And the song +Wilkerson was singing is the one song every Northern-born American knows +and can sing. The leader of the band caught the sound, signalled to his +men; twenty instruments rose as one to twenty mouths; the snare-drum +rattled, the big drum crashed, the leader lifted his baton high over his +head, and music burst from twenty brazen throats: + + “Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!” + +Instantaneously, the whole procession began to sing the refrain, and the +people in the street, and those in the wagons and carriages, and those +leaning from the windows joined with one accord, the ringing bells +caught the time of the song, and the upper air reverberated in the +rhythm. + +The Harkless Club of Carlow wheeled into Main Street, two hundred +strong, with their banners and transparencies. Lige Willetts rode at +their head, and behind him strode young William Todd and Parker and Ross +Schofield and Homer Tibbs and Hartley Bowlder, and even Bud Tipworthy +held a place in the ranks through his connection with the “Herald.” They +were all singing. + +And, behind them, Helen saw the flag-covered barouche and her father, +and beside him sat John Harkless with his head bared. + +She glanced at Briscoe; he was standing on the front seat with Minnie +beside him, and both were singing. Meredith had climbed upon the back +seat and was nervously fumbling at a cigarette. + +“Sing, Tom!” the girl cried to him excitedly. + +“I should be ashamed not to,” he answered; and dropped the cigarette and +began to sing “John Brown's Body” with all his strength. With that she +seized his hand, sprang up beside him, and over the swelling chorus her +full soprano rose, lifted with all the power in her. + +The barouche rolled into the Square, and, as it passed, Harkless turned, +and bent a sudden gaze upon the group in the buckboard; but the western +sun was in his eyes, and he only caught a glimpse of a vague, bright +shape and a dazzle of gold, and he was borne along and out of view, down +the singing street. + + “Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + As we go marching on!” + +The barouche stopped in front of the courthouse, and he passed up a lane +they made for him to the steps. When he turned to them to speak, they +began to cheer again, and he had to wait for them to quiet down. + +“We can't hear him from over here,” said Briscoe, “we're too far off. +Mr. Meredith, suppose you take the ladies closer in, and I'll stay with +the horses. You want to hear his speech.” + +“He is a great man, isn't he?” Meredith said to Helen, gravely, as he +handed her out of the buckboard. “I've been trying to realize for the +last few minutes, that he is the same old fellow I've been treating so +familiarly all day long.” + +“Yes, he is a great man,” she answered. “This is only the beginning.” + +“That's true,” said Briscoe, who had overheard her. “He'll go pretty +far. A man that people know is steady and strong and level-headed can +get whatever he wants, because a public man can get anything, if people +know he's safe and honest and they can rely on him for _sense_. It +sounds like a simple matter; but only three or four public men in the +country have convinced us that they are like that. Hurry along, young +people.” + +Crossing the street, they met Miss Tibbs; she was wiping her streaming +eyes with the back of her left hand and still mechanically waving her +handkerchief with her right. “Isn't it beautiful?” she said, not ceasing +to flutter, unconsciously, the little square of cambric. “There was +such a throng that I grew faint and had to come away. I don't mind your +seeing me crying. Pretty near everybody cried when he walked up to the +steps and we saw that he was lame.” + +Standing on the outskirts of the crowd, they could hear the mellow ring +of Harkless's voice, but only fragments of the speech, for it was rather +halting, and was not altogether clear in either rhetoric or delivery; +and Mr. Bence could have been a good deal longer in saying what he had +to say, and a thousand times more oratorical. Nevertheless, there was +not a man or woman present who did not declare that it was the greatest +speech ever heard in Plattville; and they really thought so--to such +lengths are loyalty and friendship sometimes carried in Carlow and Amo +and Gaines. + +He looked down upon the attentive, earnest faces and into the kindly +eyes of the Hoosier country people, and, as he spoke, the thought kept +recurring to him that this was the place he had dreaded to come back to; +that these were the people he had wished to leave--these, who gave him +everything they had to give--and this made it difficult to keep his +tones steady and his throat clear. + +Helen stood so far from the steps (nor could she be induced to penetrate +further, though they would have made way for her) that only fragments +reached her, but what she heard she remembered: + +“I have come home... Ordinarily a man needs to fall sick by the wayside +or to be set upon by thieves, in order to realize that nine-tenths +of the world is Samaritan, and the other tenth only too busy or too +ignorant to be. Down here he realizes it with no necessity of illness +or wounds to bring it out; and if he does get hurt, you send him to +Congress.... There will be no other in Washington so proud of what +he stands for as I shall be. To represent you is to stand for +realities--fearlessness, honor, kindness.... We are people who take +what comes to us, and it comes bountifully; we are rich--oh, we are all +Americans here!... This is the place for a man who likes to live where +people are kind to one another, and where they have the old-fashioned +way of saying 'Home.' Other places, they don't seem to get so much into +it as we do. And to come home as I have to-day.... I have come home....” + +Every one meant to shake hands with him, and, when the speech was over, +those nearest swooped upon him, cheering and waving, and grasping at +his hand. Then a line was formed, and they began to defile by him, as +he stood on the steps, and one by one they came up, and gave him hearty +greetings, and passed on through the court-house and out at the south +door. Tom Meredith and Minnie Briscoe came amongst the others, and Tom +said only, “Good old boy,” as he squeezed his friend's hand; and then, +as he went down the hall, wiping his glasses, he asked Minnie if she +believed the young man on the steps had risen from a sick bed that +morning. + +It was five-o'clock when Harkless climbed the stairs to the “Herald” + office, and his right arm and hand were aching and limp. Below him, as +he reached the landing, he could see boys selling extras containing his +speech (taken by the new reporter), and long accounts of the convention, +of the nominee's career, and the celebration of his home-coming. The +sales were rapid; for no one could resist the opportunity to read in +print descriptions of what his eyes had beheld and his ears had heard +that day. + +Ross Schofield was the only person in the editorial room, and there was +nothing in his appearance which should cause a man to start and fall +back from the doorway; but that was what Harkless did. + +“What's the matter, Mr. Harkless?” cried Ross, hurrying forward, fearing +that the other had been suddenly reseized by illness. + +“What are those?” asked Harkless, with a gesture of his hand which +seemed to include the entire room. + +“Those!” repeated Ross, staring blankly. + +“Those rosettes--these streamers--that stovepipe--all this blue ribbon.” + +Ross turned pale. “Ribbon?” he said, inquiringly. “Ribbon?” He seemed +unable to perceive the decorations referred to. + +“Yes,” answered John; “these rosettes on the chairs, that band, and----” + +“Oh!” Ross exclaimed. “That?” He fingered the band on the stovepipe as +if he saw it for the first time. “Yes; I see.” + +“But what are they for?” asked Harkless, touching one of the streamers +curiously. + +“Why--it's--it's likely meant for decorations.” + +John picked up the ink-well, staring in complete amazement at the hard +knot of ribbon with which it was garnished. + +“They seem to have been here some time.” + +“They have; I reckon they're almost due to be called in. They've be'n up +ever sence--sence----” + +“Who put them up, Ross?” + +“We did.” + +“What for?” + +Ross was visibly embarrassed. “Why--fer--fer the other editor.” + +“For Mr. Fisbee?” + +“Land, no! You don't suppose we'd go to work and bother to brisken +things up fer that old gentleman, do you?” + +“I meant young Mr. Fisbee--he is the other editor, isn't he?” + +“Oh!” said Ross, coughing. “Young Mr. Fisbee? Yes; we put 'em up fer +him.” + +“You did! Did he appreciate them?” + +“Well--he seemed to--kind of like 'em.” + +“Where is he now? I came here to find him.” + +“He's gone.” + +“Gone? Hasn't he been here this afternoon?” + +“Yes; some 'the time. Come in and stayed durin' the leevy you was +holdin', and saw the extra off all right.” + +“When will he be back?” + +“Sence it's be'n a daily he gits here by eight, after supper, but don't +stay very late; the new man and old Mr. Fisbee and Parker look after +whatever comes in late, unless it's something special. He'll likely be +here by half-past eight at the farthest off.” + +“I can't wait till then.” John took a quick turn about the room. +“I've been wanting to see him every minute since I got in,” he said +impatiently, “and he hasn't been near me. Nobody could even point him +out to me. Where has he gone? I want to see him _now_.” + +“Want to discharge him again?” said a voice from the door, and turning, +they saw that Mr. Martin stood there observing them. + +“No,” said Harkless; “I want to give him the 'Herald.' Do you know where +he is?” + +Mr. Martin stroked his beard deliberately. “The person you speak +of hadn't ort to be very hard to find--in Carlow. The committee was +reckless enough to hire that carriage of yours by the day, and Keating +and Warren Smith are setting in it up at the corner, with their feet +on the cushions to show they're used to ridin' around with four white +horses every day in the week. It's waitin' till you're ready to go out +to Briscoe's. It's an hour before supper time, and you can talk to young +Fisbee all you want. He's out there.” + +As they drove along the pike, Harkless's three companions kept up a +conversation sprightly beyond the mere exhilaration of the victorious; +but John sat almost silent, and, in spite of their liveliness, the +others eyed him a little anxiously now and then, knowing that he had +been living on excitement through a physically exhausting day, and they +were fearful lest his nerves react and bring him to a breakdown. But the +healthy flush of his cheek was reassuring; he looked steady and strong, +and they were pleased to believe that the stirring-up was what he +needed. + +It had been a strange and beautiful day to him, begun in anger, but the +sun was not to go down upon his wrath; for his choleric intention had +almost vanished on his homeward way, and the first words Smith had +spoken had lifted the veil of young Fisbee's duplicity, had shown him +with what fine intelligence and supreme delicacy and sympathy young +Fisbee had worked for him, had understood him, and had _made_ him. If +the open assault on McCune had been pressed, and the damnatory evidence +published in Harkless's own paper, while Harkless himself was a +candidate and rival, John would have felt dishonored. The McCune papers +could have been used for Halloway's benefit, but not for his own; he +would not ride to success on another man's ruin; and young Fisbee had +understood and had saved him. It was a point of honor that many would +have held finicky and inconsistent, but one which young Fisbee had +comprehended was vital to Harkless. + +And this was the man he had discharged like a dishonest servant; the man +who had thrown what was (in Carlow's eyes) riches into his lap; the man +who had made his paper, and who had made him, and saved him. Harkless +wanted to see young Fisbee as he longed to see only one other person +in the world. Two singular things had happened that day which made his +craving to see Helen almost unbearable--just to rest his eyes upon her +for a little while, he could ask no more. And as they passed along that +well-remembered road, every tree, every leaf by the wayside, it seemed, +spoke to him and called upon the dear memory of his two walks with +her--into town and out of town, on show-day. He wondered if his heart +was to project a wraith of her before him whenever he was deeply moved, +for the rest of his life. For twice to-day he had seen her whom he knew +to be so far away. She had gone back to her friends in the north, Tom +had said. Twice that afternoon he had been momentarily, but vividly, +conscious of her as a living presence. As he descended from the car +at the station, his eyes, wandering out over the tumultuous crowd, had +caught and held a picture for a second--a graceful arm upraised, and a +gloved hand pressed against a blushing cheek under a hat such as is not +worn in Carlow; a little figure poised apparently in air, full-length +above the crowd about her; so, for the merest flick of time he had seen +her, and then, to his straining eyes, it was as though she were not. She +had vanished. And again, as his carriage reached the Square, a feeling +had come to him that she was near him; that she was looking at him; that +he should see her when the carriage turned; and in the same instant, +above the singing of a multitude, he heard her voice as if there had +been no other and once more his dazzled eyes beheld her for a second; +she was singing, and as she sang she leaned toward him from on high with +the most ineffable look of tenderness and pride and affection he had +ever seen on a woman's face; such a look, he thought, as she would wear +if she came to love some archangel (her love should be no less) with all +of her heart and soul and strength. And so he knew he had seen a vision. +But it was a cruel one to visit a man who loved her. He had summoned his +philosophy and his courage in his interview with himself on the way to +Carlow, and they had answered; but nothing could answer if his eyes were +to play him tricks and bring her visibly before him, and with such an +expression as he had seen upon her face. It was too real. It made his +eyes yearn for the sight of her with an ache that was physical. And +even at that moment, he saw, far ahead of them on the road, two figures +standing in front of the brick house. One was unmistakable at any +distance. It was that of old Fisbee; and the other was a girl's: a +light, small figure without a hat, and the low, western sun dwelt on a +head that shone with gold. Harkless put his hand over his eyes with a +pain that was like the taste of hemlock in nectar. + +“Sun in your eyes?” asked Keating, lifting his hat, so as to shield the +other's face. + +“Yes.” + +When he looked again, both figures were gone. He made up his mind that +he would think of the only other person who could absorb his attention, +at least for a time; very soon he would stand face to face with the six +feet of brawn and intelligence and manhood that was young Fisbee. + +“You are sure he is there?” he asked Tom Martin. + +“Yes,” answered Martin, with no need to inquire whom the editor meant. +“I reckon,” he continued, solemnly, peering at the other from under his +rusty hat-brim, “I reckon when you see him, maybe you'll want to put a +kind of codicil to that deed to the 'Herald.'” + +“How's that, Martin?” + +“Why, I guess maybe you'll--well, wait till you see him.” + +“I don't want to wait much longer, when I remember what I owe him +and how I have used him, and that I have been here nearly three hours +without seeing him.” + +As they neared the brick house Harkless made out, through the trees, a +retreative flutter of skirts on the porch, and the thought crossed his +mind that Minnie had flown indoors to give some final directions toward +the preparation of the banquet; but when the barouche halted at the +gate, he was surprised to see her waving to him from the steps, while +Tom Meredith and Mr. Bence and Mr. Boswell formed a little court around +her. Lige Willetts rode up on horse back at the same moment, and the +judge was waiting in front of the gate. Harkless stepped out of the +barouche and took his hand. + +“I was told young Fisbee was here.” + +“Young Fisbee is here,” said the judge. + +“Where, please, Briscoe?” + +“Want to see him right off?” + +“I do, very much.” + +“You'll withdraw his discharge, I expect, now?” + +“Ah!” exclaimed the other. “I want to make him a present of the +'Herald,' if he'll take it.” He fumed to Meredith, who had come to the +gate. “Tom, where is he?” + +Meredith put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and answered: “I don't +know. God bless you, old fellow!” + +“The truth is,” said the judge, as they entered the gate, “that when you +drove up, young Fisbee ran into the house. Minnie--” He turned, but his +daughter had disappeared; however, she came to the door, a moment later, +and shook her head mysteriously at her father. + +“Not in the house,” she said. + +Mr. Fisbee came around the corner of the porch and went toward Harkless. +“Fisbee,” cried the latter, “where is your nephew?” + +The old man took his hand in both his own, and looked him between the +eyes, and thus stood, while there was a long pause, the others watching +them. + +“You must not say that I told you,” he said at last. “Go into the +garden.” + +But when Harkless's step crunched the garden path there was no one +there. Asters were blooming in beds between the green rose-bushes, +and their many-fingered hands were flung open in wide surprise that he +should expect to find young Fisbee there. It was just before sunset. +Birds were gossiping in the sycamores on the bank. At the foot of +the garden, near the creek, there were some tall hydrangea bushes, +flower-laden, and, beyond them, one broad shaft of the sun smote the +creek bends for a mile in that flat land, and crossed the garden like a +bright, taut-drawn veil. Harkless passed the bushes and stepped out into +this gold brilliance. Then he uttered a cry and stopped. + +Helen was standing beside the hydrangeas, with both hands against her +cheeks and her eyes fixed on the ground. She had run away as far as she +could run; there were high fences extending down to the creek on each +side, and the water was beyond. + +“_You_!” he said. “_You--you_!” + +She did not lift her eyes, but began to move away from him with little +backward steps. When she reached the bench on the bank, she spoke with +a quick intake of breath and in a voice he scarcely heard. It was the +merest whisper, and her words came so slowly that sometimes minutes +separated them. + +“Can you--will you keep me--on the 'Herald'?” + +“Keep you----” + +“Will you--let me--help?” + +He came near her. “I don't understand. Is it you--you--who are here +again?” + +“Have you--forgiven me? You know now why I wouldn't--resign? You forgive +my--that telegram?” + +“What telegram?” + +“That one that came to you--this morning.” + +“_Your_ telegram?” + +“Yes.” + +“Did you send me one?” + +“Yes.” + +“It did not come to me.” + +“Yes--it did.” + +“But there--What was it about?” + +“It was signed,” she said, “it was signed--” She paused and turned half +way, not lifting the downcast lashes; her hand, laid upon the arm of the +bench, was shaking; she put it behind her. Then her eyes were lifted a +little, and, though they did not meet his, he saw them, and a strange, +frightened glory leaped in his heart. Her voice fell still lower and two +heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. “It was signed,” she whispered, “it +was signed--'H. Fisbee.'” + +He began to tremble from head to foot. There was a long silence. She had +turned quite away from him. When he spoke, his voice was as low as hers, +and he spoke as slowly as she had. + +“You mean--then--it was--you?” + +“Yes.” + +“You!” + +“Yes.” + +“And you have been here all the time?” + +“All--all except the week you were--hurt, and that--that one evening.” + +The bright veil which wrapped them was drawn away, and they stood in the +silent, gathering dusk. + +He tried to loosen his neck-band; it seemed to be choking him. “I--I +can't--I don't comprehend it. I am trying to realize what it----” + +“It means nothing,” she answered. + +“There was an editorial, yesterday,” he said, “an editorial that I +thought was about Rodney McCune. Did you write it?” + +“Yes.” + +“It was about--me--wasn't it?” + +“Yes.” + +“It said--it said--that I had won the love of every person in Carlow +County.” + +Suddenly she found her voice. “Do not misunderstand me,” she said +rapidly. “I have done the little that I have done out of gratitude.” She +faced him now, but without meeting his eyes. “I told you, remember, +that you would understand some day what I meant by that, and the day has +come. I owed you more gratitude than a woman ever owed a man before, I +think, and I would have died to pay a part of it. I set every gossip's +tongue in Rouen clacking at the very start, in the merest amateurish +preparation for the work Mr. Macauley gave me. That was nothing. And the +rest has been the happiest time in my life. I have only pleased myself, +after all!” + +“What gratitude did you owe me?” + +“What gratitude? For what you did for my father.” + +“I have only seen your father once in my life--at your table at the +dance supper, that night.” + +“Listen. My father is a gentle old man with white hair and kind eyes. +You saw my uncle, that night; he has been as good to me as a father, +since I was seven years old, and he gave me his name by law and I lived +with him. My father came to see me once a year; I never came to see him. +He always told me everything was well with him; that his life was happy. +Once he lost the little he had left to him in the world, his only way of +making his living. He had no friends; he was hungry and desperate, and +he wandered. I was dancing and going about wearing jewels--only--I did +not know. All the time the brave heart wrote me happy letters. I should +have known, for there was one who did, and who saved him. When at last +I came to see my father, he told me. He had written of his idol before; +but it was not till I came that he told it all to me. Do you know what +I felt? While his daughter was dancing cotillions, a stranger had taken +his hand--and--” A sob rose in her throat and checked her utterance +for a moment; but she threw up her head and met his eyes proudly. +“Gratitude, Mr. Harkless!” she cried. “I am James Fisbee's daughter.” + +He fell back from the bench with a sharp exclamation, and stared at her +through the gray twilight. She went on hurriedly, again not looking at +him: + +“When you showed me that you cared for me--when you told me that you +did--I--do you think I wanted to care for you? I wanted to do something +to show you that I could be ashamed of my vile neglect of him--something +to show you his daughter could be grateful. If I had loved you, what +I did would have been for that--and I could not have done it. And how +could I have shown my gratitude if I had done it for love? And it has +been such dear, happy work, the little I have done, that it seems, after +all, that I have done it for love of myself. But--but when you first +told me--” She broke off with a strange, fluttering, half inarticulate +little laugh that was half tears; and then resumed in another tone: +“When you told me you cared that night--that night we were here--how +could I be sure? It had been only two days, you see, and even if I could +have been sure of myself, why, I couldn't have told you. Oh! I had so +brazenly thrown myself at your head, time and again, those two days, +in my--my worship of your goodness to my father and my excitement in +recognizing in his friend the hero of my girlhood, that you had every +right to think I cared; but if--but if I had--if I had--loved you with +my whole soul, I could not have--why, no woman could have--I mean the +sort of girl I am couldn't have admitted it--must have denied it. And +what I was trying to do for you when we met in Rouen was--was courting +you. You surely see I couldn't have done it if I had cared. It +would have been brazen! And do you think that then I could have +answered--'Yes'--even if I wanted to--even if I had been sure of myself? +And now--” Her voice sank again to a whisper. “And now----” + +From the meadows across the creek, and over the fields, came a far +tinkling of farm-bells. Three months ago, at this hour, John Harkless +had listened to that sound, and its great lonesomeness had touched his +heart like a cold hand; but now, as the mists were rising from the water +and the small stars pierced the sky one by one, glinting down through +the dim, immeasurable blue distances, he found no loneliness in heaven +or earth. He leaned forward toward her; the bench was between them. The +last light was gone; evening had fallen. + +“And now--” he said. + +She moved backward as he leaned nearer. + +“You promised to remember on the day you understood,” she answered, a +little huskily, “that it was all from the purest gratitude.” + +“And--and there is nothing else?” + +“If there were,” she said, and her voice grew more and more unsteady, +“if there were, can't you see that what I have done--” She stopped, and +then, suddenly, “Ah, it would have been _brazen_!” + +He looked up at the little stars and he heard the bells, and they struck +into his heart like a dirge. He made a singular gesture of abnegation, +and then dropped upon the bench with his head bowed between his hands. + +She pressed her hand to her bosom, watching him in a startled fashion, +her eyes wide and her lips parted. She took a few quick, short steps +toward the garden, still watching him over her shoulder. + +“You mustn't worry,” he said, not lifting his bent head, “I know you're +sorry. I'll be all right in a minute.” + +She gave a hurried glance from right to left and from left to right, +like one in terror seeking a way of escape; she gathered her skirts in +her hand, as if to run into the garden; but suddenly she turned and ran +to him--ran to him swiftly, with her great love shining from her eyes. +She sank upon her knees beside him. She threw her arms about his neck +and kissed him on the forehead. + +“Oh, my dear, don't you see?” she whispered, “don't you see--don't you +see?” + +When they heard the judge calling from the orchard, they went back +through the garden toward the house. It was dark; the whitest asters +were but gray splotches. There was no one in the orchard; Briscoe had +gone indoors. “Did you know you are to drive me into town in the phaeton +for the fireworks?” she asked. + +“Fireworks?” + +“Yes; the Great Harkless has come home.” + +Even in the darkness he could see the look the vision had given him when +the barouche turned into the Square. She smiled upon him and said, “All +afternoon I was wishing I could have been your mother.” + +He clasped her hand more tightly. “This wonderful world!” he cried. +“Yesterday I had a doctor--a doctor to cure me of love-sickness!” + +They went on a little way. “We must hurry,” she said. “I am sure they +have been waiting for us.” This was true; they had. + +From the dining-room came laughter and hearty voices, and the windows +were bright with the light of many lamps. By and by, they stood just +outside the patch of light that fell from one of the windows. + +“Look,” said Helen. “Aren't they good, dear people?” + +“The beautiful people!” he answered. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Gentleman From Indiana, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA *** + +***** This file should be named 9659-0.txt or 9659-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/6/5/9659/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/9659-0.zip b/9659-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0ac905 --- /dev/null +++ b/9659-0.zip diff --git a/9659-h.zip b/9659-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..00defaf --- /dev/null +++ b/9659-h.zip diff --git a/9659-h/9659-h.htm b/9659-h/9659-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fbbab6e --- /dev/null +++ b/9659-h/9659-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13030 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Gentleman from Indiana, by Booth Tarkington + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Gentleman From Indiana, by Booth Tarkington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Gentleman From Indiana + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Release Date: June 16, 2009 [EBook #9659] +Last Updated: March 3, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Booth Tarkington + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE YOUNG MAN + WHO CAME TO STAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + STRANGE LADY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> LONESOMENESS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE + WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. + </a> AT THE PASTURE BARS: ELDER-BUSHES MAY HAVE STINGS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> JUNE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> MORNING: “SOME IN + RAGS AND SOME IN TAGS AND SOME IN VELVET <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> GLAD AFTERNOON: THE + GIRL BY THE BLUE TENT-POLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER + IX. </a> NIGHT: IT IS BAD LUCK TO SING BEFORE BREAKFAST <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE COURT-HOUSE BELL + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> JOHN + BROWN'S BODY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> JERRY + THE TELLER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> JAMES + FISBEE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> A + RESCUE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> NETTLES + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> PRETTY + MARQUISE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> HELEN'S + TOAST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> THE + TREACHERY OF H. FISBEE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. + </a> THE GREAT HARKLESS COMES HOME <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG MAN WHO CAME TO STAY + </h2> + <p> + There is a fertile stretch of flat lands in Indiana where unagrarian + Eastern travellers, glancing from car-windows, shudder and return their + eyes to interior upholstery, preferring even the swaying caparisons of a + Pullman to the monotony without. The landscape lies interminably level: + bleak in winter, a desolate plain of mud and snow; hot and dusty in + summer, in its flat lonesomeness, miles on miles with not one cool hill + slope away from the sun. The persistent tourist who seeks for signs of man + in this sad expanse perceives a reckless amount of rail fence; at + intervals a large barn; and, here and there, man himself, incurious, + patient, slow, looking up from the fields apathetically as the Limited + flies by. Widely separated from each other are small frame railway + stations—sometimes with no other building in sight, which indicates + that somewhere behind the adjacent woods a few shanties and thin cottages + are grouped about a couple of brick stores. + </p> + <p> + On the station platforms there are always two or three wooden + packing-boxes, apparently marked for travel, but they are sacred from + disturbance and remain on the platform forever; possibly the right train + never comes along. They serve to enthrone a few station loafers, who look + out from under their hat-brims at the faces in the car-windows with the + languid scorn a permanent fixture always has for a transient, and the pity + an American feels for a fellow-being who does not live in his town. Now + and then the train passes a town built scatteringly about a court-house, + with a mill or two humming near the tracks. This is a county-seat, and the + inhabitants and the local papers refer to it confidently as “our city.” + The heart of the flat lands is a central area called Carlow County, and + the county-seat of Carlow is a town unhappily named in honor of its first + settler, William Platt, who christened it with his blood. Natives of this + place have sometimes remarked, easily, that their city had a population of + from five to six thousand souls. It is easy to forgive them for such + statements; civic pride is a virtue. + </p> + <p> + The social and business energy of Plattville concentrates on the Square. + Here, in summer-time, the gentlemen are wont to lounge from store to store + in their shirt sleeves; and here stood the old, red-brick court-house, + loosely fenced in a shady grove of maple and elm—“slipp'ry ellum”—called + the “Court-House Yard.” When the sun grew too hot for the dry-goods box + whittlers in front of the stores around the Square and the occupants of + the chairs in front of the Palace Hotel on the corner, they would go + across and drape themselves over the court-house fence, under the trees, + and leisurely carve there initials on the top board. The farmers hitched + their teams to the fence, for there were usually loafers energetic enough + to shout “Whoa!” if the flies worried the horses beyond patience. In the + yard, amongst the weeds and tall, unkept grass, chickens foraged all day + long; the fence was so low that the most matronly hen flew over with + propriety; and there were gaps that accommodated the passage of itinerant + pigs. Most of the latter, however, preferred the cool wallows of the less + important street corners. Here and there a big dog lay asleep in the + middle of the road, knowing well that the easy-going Samaritan, in his + case, would pass by on the other side. + </p> + <p> + Only one street attained to the dignity of a name—Main Street, which + formed the north side of the Square. In Carlow County, descriptive + location is usually accomplished by designating the adjacent, as, “Up at + Bardlocks',” “Down by Schofields',” “Right where Hibbards live,” “Acrost + from Sol. Tibbs's,” or, “Other side of Jones's field.” In winter, Main + Street was a series of frozen gorges land hummocks; in fall and spring, a + river of mud; in summer, a continuing dust heap; it was the best street in + Plattville. + </p> + <p> + The people lived happily; and, while the world whirled on outside, they + were content with their own. It would have moved their surprise as much as + their indignation to hear themselves spoken of as a “secluded community”; + for they sat up all night to hear the vote of New York, every campaign. + Once when the President visited Rouen, seventy miles away, there were only + few bankrupts (and not a baby amongst them) left in the deserted homes of + Carlow County. Everybody had adventures; almost everybody saw the great + man; and everybody was glad to get back home again. It was the longest + journey some of them ever set upon, and these, elated as they were over + their travels, determined to think twice ere they went that far from home + another time. + </p> + <p> + On Saturdays, the farmers enlivened the commercial atmosphere of + Plattville; and Miss Tibbs, the postmaster's sister and clerk, used to + make a point of walking up and down Main Street as often as possible, to + get a thrill in the realization of some poetical expressions that haunted + her pleasingly; phrases she had employed frequently in her poems for the + “Carlow County Herald.” When thirty or forty country people were scattered + along the sidewalks in front of the stores on Main Street, she would walk + at nicely calculated angles to the different groups so as to leave as few + gaps as possible between the figures, making them appear as near a solid + phalanx as she could. Then she would murmur to herself, with the accent of + soulful revel, “The thronged city streets,” and, “Within the thronged + city,” or, “Where the thronging crowds were swarming and the great + cathedral rose.” Although she had never been beyond Carlow and the + bordering counties in her life, all her poems were of city streets and + bustling multitudes. She was one of those who had been unable to join the + excursion to Rouen when the President was there; but she had listened + avidly to her friends' descriptions of the crowds. Before that time her + muse had been sylvan, speaking of “Flow'rs of May,” and hinting at + thoughts that overcame her when she roved the woodlands thro'; but now the + inspiration was become decidedly municipal and urban, evidently reluctant + to depart beyond the retail portions of a metropolis. Her verses + beginning, “O, my native city, bride of Hibbard's winding stream,”—Hibbard's + Creek runs west of Plattville, except in time of drought—“When thy + myriad lights are shining, and thy faces, like a dream, Go flitting down + thy sidewalks when their daily toil is done,” were pronounced, at the time + of their publication, the best poem that had ever appeared in the + “Herald.” + </p> + <p> + This unlucky newspaper was a thorn in the side of every patriot of Carlow + County. It was a poor paper; everybody knew it was a poor paper; it was so + poor that everybody admitted it was a poor paper—worse, the + neighboring county of Amo possessed a better paper, the “Amo Gazette.” The + “Carlow County Herald” was so everlastingly bad that Plattville people + bent their heads bitterly and admitted even to citizens of Amo that the + “Gazette” was the better paper. The “Herald” was a weekly, issued on + Saturday; sometimes it hung fire over Sunday and appeared Monday evening. + In their pride, the Carlow people supported the “Herald” loyally and long; + but finally subscriptions began to fall off and the “Gazette” gained them. + It came to pass that the “Herald” missed fire altogether for several + weeks; then it came out feebly, two small advertisements occupying the + whole of the fourth page. It was breathing its last. The editor was a + clay-colored gentleman with a goatee, whose one surreptitious eye + betokened both indolence of disposition and a certain furtive shrewdness. + He collected all the outstanding subscriptions he could, on the morning of + the issue just mentioned, and, thoughtfully neglecting several items on + the other side of the ledger, departed from Plattville forever. + </p> + <p> + The same afternoon a young man from the East alighted on the platform of + the railway station, north of the town, and, entering the rickety omnibus + that lingered there, seeking whom it might rattle to deafness, demanded to + be driven to the Herald Building. It did not strike the driver that the + newcomer was precisely a gay young man when he climbed into the omnibus; + but, an hour later, as he stood in the doorway of the edifice he had + indicated as his destination, depression seemed to have settled into the + marrow of his bones. Plattville was instantly alert to the stranger's + presence, and interesting conjectures were hazarded all day long at the + back door of Martin's Dry-Goods Emporium, where all the clerks from the + stores around the Square came to play checkers or look on at the game. + (This was the club during the day; in the evening the club and the game + removed to the drug, book, and wall-paper store on the corner.) At supper, + the new arrival and his probable purposes were discussed over every table + in the town. Upon inquiry, he had informed Judd Bennett, the driver of the + omnibus, that he had come to stay. Naturally, such a declaration caused a + sensation, as people did not come to Plattville to live, except through + the inadvertency of being born there. In addition, the young man's + appearance and attire were reported to be extraordinary. Many of the + curious, among them most of the marriageable females of the place, took + occasion to pass and repass the sign of the “Carlow County Herald” during + the evening. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the stranger was seated in the dingy office upstairs with his + head bowed low on his arms. Twilight stole through the dirty window-panes + and faded into darkness. Night filled the room. He did not move. The young + man from the East had bought the “Herald” from an agent; had bought it + without ever having been within a hundred miles of Plattville. He had + vastly overpaid for it. Moreover, the price he had paid for it was all the + money he had in the world. + </p> + <p> + The next morning he went bitterly to work. He hired a compositor from + Rouen, a young man named Parker, who set type all night long and helped + him pursue advertisements all day. The citizens shook their heads + pessimistically. They had about given up the idea that the “Herald” could + ever amount to anything, and they betrayed an innocent, but caustic, doubt + of ability in any stranger. + </p> + <p> + One day the new editor left a note on his door; “Will return in fifteen + minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rodney McCune, a politician from the neighboring county of Gaines, + happening to be in Plattville on an errand to his henchmen, found the + note, and wrote beneath the message the scathing inquiry, “Why?” + </p> + <p> + When he discovered this addendum, the editor smiled for the first time + since his advent, and reported the incident in his next issue, using the + rubric, “Why Has the 'Herald' Returned to Life?” as a text for a rousing + editorial on “honesty in politics,” a subject of which he already knew + something. The political district to which Carlow belonged was governed by + a limited number of gentlemen whose wealth was ever on the increase; and + “honesty in politics” was a startling conception to the minds of the + passive and resigned voters, who discussed the editorial on the street + corners and in the stores. The next week there was another editorial, + personal and local in its application, and thereby it became evident that + the new proprietor of the “Herald” was a theorist who believed, in + general, that a politician's honor should not be merely of that middling + healthy species known as “honor amongst politicians”; and, in particular, + that Rodney McCune should not receive the nomination of his party for + Congress. Now, Mr. McCune was the undoubted dictator of the district, and + his followers laughed at the stranger's fantastic onset. + </p> + <p> + But the editor was not content with the word of print; he hired a horse + and rode about the country, and (to his own surprise) he proved to be an + adaptable young man who enjoyed exercise with a pitchfork to the farmer's + profit while the farmer talked. He talked little himself, but after + listening an hour or so, he would drop a word from the saddle as he left; + and then, by some surprising wizardry, the farmer, thinking over the + interview, decided there was some sense in what that young fellow said, + and grew curious to see what the young fellow had further to say in the + “Herald.” + </p> + <p> + Politics is the one subject that goes to the vitals of every rural + American; and a Hoosier will talk politics after he is dead. + </p> + <p> + Everybody read the campaign editorials, and found them interesting, + although there was no one who did not perceive the utter absurdity of a + young stranger's dropping into Carlow and involving himself in a party + fight against the boss of the district. It was entirely a party fight; + for, by grace of the last gerrymander, the nomination carried with it the + certainty of election. A week before the convention there came a + provincial earthquake; the news passed from man to man in awe-struck + whispers—McCune had withdrawn his name, making the hollowest of + excuses to his cohorts. Nothing was known of the real reason for his + disordered retreat, beyond the fact that he had been in Plattville on the + morning before his withdrawal and had issued from a visit to the “Herald” + office in a state of palsy. Mr. Parker, the Rouen printer, had been + present at the close of the interview; but he held his peace at the + command of his employer. He had been called into the sanctum, and had + found McCune, white and shaking, leaning on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “Parker,” said the editor, exhibiting a bundle of papers he held in his + hand, “I want you to witness a verbal contract between Mr. McCune and + myself. These papers are an affidavit and copies of some records of a + street-car company which obtained a charter while Mr McCune was in the + State legislature. They were sent to me by a man I do not know, an + anonymous friend of Mr. McCune's; in fact, a friend he seems to have lost. + On consideration of our not printing these papers, Mr. McCune agrees to + retire from politics for good. You understand, if he ever lifts his head + again, politically, We publish them, and the courts will do the rest. Now, + in case anything should happen to me——” + </p> + <p> + “Something will happen to you, all right,” broke out McCune. “You can bank + on that, you black——” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” the editor interrupted, not unpleasantly “why should there be + anything personal, in all this? I don't recognize you as my private enemy—not + at all; and I think you are getting off rather easily; aren't you? You + stay out of politics, and everything will be comfortable. You ought never + to have been in it, you see. It's a mistake not to keep square, because in + the long run somebody is sure to give you away—like the fellow who + sent me these. You promise to hold to a strictly private life?” + </p> + <p> + “You're a traitor to the party,” groaned the other, “but you only wait——” + </p> + <p> + The editor smiled sadly. “Wait nothing. Don't threaten, man. Go home to + your wife. I'll give you three to one she'll be glad you are out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you three to one,” said McCune, “that the White Caps will get + you if you stay in Carlow. You want to look out for yourself, I tell you, + my smart boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, Mr. McCune,” was the answer. “Let me have your note of + withdrawal before you leave town this afternoon.” The young man paused a + moment, then extended his hand, as he said: “Shake hands, won't you? I—I + haven't meant to be too hard on you. I hope things will seem easier and + gayer to you before long; and if—if anything should turn up that I + can do for you in a private way, I'll be very glad, you know. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of the “Herald's” victory went over the State. The paper came + out regularly. The townsfolk bought it and the farmers drove in for it. + Old subscribers came back. Old advertisers renewed. The “Herald” began to + sell in Amo, and Gaines County people subscribed. Carlow folk held up + their heads when journalism was mentioned. Presently the “Herald” + announced a news connection with Rouen, and with that, and the aid of + “patent insides,” began an era of three issues a week, appearing on + Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. The Plattville Brass Band serenaded + the editor. + </p> + <p> + During the second month of the new regime of the “Herald,” the working + force of the paper received an addition. One night the editor found some + barroom loafers tormenting a patriarchal old man who had a magnificent + head and a grand white beard. He had been thrown out of a saloon, and he + was drunk with the drunkenness of three weeks steady pouring. He propped + himself against a wall and reproved his tormentors in Latin. “I'm walking + your way, Mr. Fisbee,” remarked the journalist, hooking his arm into the + old man's. “Suppose we leave our friends here and go home?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fisbee was the one inhabitant of the town who had an unknown past; no + one knew more about him than that he had been connected with a university + somewhere, and had travelled in unheard-of countries before he came to + Plattville. A glamour of romance was thrown about him by the gossips, to + whom he ever proved a fund of delightful speculation. There was a dark, + portentous secret in his life, it was agreed; an opinion not too well + confirmed by the old man's appearance. His fine eyes had a pathetic habit + of wandering to the horizon in a questioning fashion that had a queer sort + of hopelessness in it, as if his quest were one for the Holy Grail, + perhaps; and his expression was mild, vague, and sad. He had a look of + race and blood; and yet, at the first glance, one saw that he was lost in + dreams, and one guessed that the dreams would never be of great + practicability in their application. Some such impression of Fisbee was + probably what caused the editor of the “Herald” to nickname him (in his + own mind) “The White Knight,” and to conceive a strong, if whimsical, + fancy for him. + </p> + <p> + Old Fisbee had come (from nobody knew where) to Plattville to teach, and + had been principal of the High School for ten years, instructing his + pupils after a peculiar fashion of his own, neglecting the ordinary + courses of High School instruction to lecture on archaeology to the + dumfounded scholars; growing year by year more forgetful and absent, lost + in his few books and his own reflections, until, though undeniably a + scholar, he had been discharged for incompetency. He was old; he had no + money and no way to make money; he could find nothing to do. The blow had + seemed to daze him for a time; then he began to drop in at the hotel bar, + where Wilkerson, the professional drunkard, favored him with his society. + The old man understood; he knew it was the beginning of the end. He sold + his books in order to continue his credit at the Palace bar, and once or + twice, unable to proceed to his own dwelling, spent the night in a lumber + yard, piloted thither by the hardier veteran, Wilkerson. + </p> + <p> + The morning after the editor took him home, Fisbee appeared at the + “Herald” office in a new hat and a decent suit of black. He had received + his salary in advance, his books had been repurchased, and he had become + the reportorial staff of the “Carlow County Herald”; also, he was to write + various treatises for the paper. For the first few evenings, when he + started home from the office, his chief walked with him, chatting + heartily, until they had passed the Palace bar. But Fisbee's redemption + was complete. + </p> + <p> + The old man had a daughter. When she came to Plattville, he told her what + the editor of the “Herald” had done for him. + </p> + <p> + The journalist kept steadily at his work; and, as time went on, the + bitterness his predecessor's swindle had left him passed away. But his + loneliness and a sense of defeat grew and deepened. When the vistas of the + world had opened to his first youth, he had not thought to spend his life + in such a place as Plattville; but he found himself doing it, and it was + no great happiness to him that the congressional representative of the + district, the gentleman whom the “Herald's” opposition to McCune had sent + to Washington, came to depend on his influence for renomination; nor did + the realization that the editor of the “Carlow County Herald” had come to + be McCune's successor as political dictator produce a perceptibly + enlivening effect on the young man. The years drifted very slowly, and to + him it seemed they went by while he stood far aside and could not even see + them move. He did not consider the life he led an exciting one; but the + other citizens of Carlow did when he undertook a war against the “White + Caps.” The natives were much more afraid of the “White Caps” than he was; + they knew more about them and understood them better than he did. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE STRANGE LADY + </h2> + <p> + IT was June. From the patent inner columns of the “Carlow County Herald” + might be gleaned the information (enlivened by cuts of duchesses) that the + London season had reached a high point of gaiety; and that, although the + weather had grown inauspiciously warm, there was sufficient gossip for the + thoughtful. To the rapt mind of Miss Selina Tibbs came a delicious moment + of comparison: precisely the same conditions prevailed in Plattville. + </p> + <p> + Not unduly might Miss Selina lay this flattering unction to her soul, and + well might the “Herald” declare that “Carlow events were crowding thick + and fast.” The congressional representative of the district was to deliver + a lecture at the court-house; a circus was approaching the county-seat, + and its glories would be exhibited “rain or shine”; the court had cleared + up the docket by sitting to unseemly hours of the night, even until ten + o'clock—one farmer witness had fallen asleep while deposing that he + “had knowed this man Hender some eighteen year”—and, as excitements + come indeed when they do come, and it seldom rains but it pours, the + identical afternoon of the lecture a strange lady descended from the Rouen + Accommodation and was greeted on the platform by the wealthiest citizen of + the county. Judge Briscoe, and his daughter, Minnie, and (what stirred + wonder to an itch almost beyond endurance) Mr. Fisbee! and they then drove + through town on the way to the Briscoe mansion, all four, apparently, in a + fluster of pleasure and exhilaration, the strange lady engaged in earnest + conversation with Mr. Fisbee on the back seat. + </p> + <p> + Judd Bennett had had the best stare at her, but, as he immediately fell + into a dreamy and absent state, little satisfaction could be got from him, + merely an exasperating statement that the stranger seemed to have a kind + of new look to her. However, by means of Miss Mildy Upton, a domestic of + the Briscoe household, the community was given something a little more + definite. The lady's name was Sherwood; she lived in Rouen; and she had + known Miss Briscoe at the eastern school the latter had attended (to the + feverish agitation of Plattville) three years before; but Mildy confessed + her inadequacy in the matter of Mr. Fisbee. He had driven up in the + buckboard with the others and evidently expected to stay for supper Mr. + Tibbs, the postmaster (it was to the postoffice that Miss Upton brought + her information) suggested, as a possible explanation, that the lady was + so learned that the Briscoes had invited Fisbee on the ground of his being + the only person in Plattville they esteemed wise enough to converse with + her; but Miss Tibbs wrecked her brother's theory by mentioning the name of + Fisbee's chief. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Solomon,” she sagaciously observed, “if that were true, they + would have invited him, instead of Mr. Fisbee, and I wish they had. He + isn't troubled with malaria, and yet the longer he lives here the + sallower-looking and sadder-looking he gets. I think the company of a + lovely stranger might be of great cheer to his heart, and it will be + interesting to witness the meeting between them. It may be,” added the + poetess, “that they <i>have</i> already met, on his travels before he + settled here. It may be that they are old friends—or even more.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what,” returned her brother, “what is he doin' settin' up in his + office all afternoon with ink on his forehead, while Fisbee goes out + ridin' with her and stays for supper after<i>werds</i>?” + </p> + <p> + Although the problem of Fisbee's attendance remained a mere maze of + hopeless speculation, Mildy had been present at the opening of Miss + Sherwood's trunk, and here was matter for the keen consideration of the + ladies, at least. Thoughtful conversations in regard to hats and linings + took place across fences and on corners of the Square that afternoon; and + many gentlemen wondered (in wise silence) why their spouses were + absent-minded and brooded during the evening meal. + </p> + <p> + At half-past seven, the Hon. Kedge Halloway of Amo delivered himself of + his lecture; “The Past and Present. What we may Glean from Them, and Their + Influence on the Future.” At seven the court-room was crowded, and Miss + Tibbs, seated on the platform (reserved for prominent citizens), viewed + the expectant throng with rapture. It is possible that she would have + confessed to witnessing a sea of faces, but it is more probable that she + viewed the expectant throng. The thermometer stood at eighty-seven degrees + and there was a rustle of incessantly moving palm-leaf fans as, row by + row, their yellow sides twinkled in the light of eight oil lamps. The + stouter ladies wielded their fans with vigor. There were some very pretty + faces in Mr. Halloway's audience, but it is a peculiarity of Plattville + that most of those females who do not incline to stoutness incline far in + the opposite direction, and the lean ladies naturally suffered less from + the temperature than their sisters. The shorn lamb is cared for, but often + there seems the intention to impart a moral in the refusal of Providence + to temper warm weather to the full-bodied. + </p> + <p> + Old Tom Martin expressed a strong consciousness of such intention when he + observed to the shocked Miss Selina, as Mr. Bill Snoddy, the stoutest + citizen of the county, waddled abnormally up the aisle: “The Almighty must + be gittin” a heap of fun out of Bill Snoddy to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Martin!” exclaimed Miss Tibbs, fluttering at his irreverence. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you would yourself. Miss Seliny,” returned old Tom. Mr. Martin + always spoke in one key, never altering the pitch of his high, dry, + unctuous drawl, though, when his purpose was more than ordinarily + humorous, his voice assumed a shade of melancholy. Now and then he + meditatively passed his fingers through his gray beard, which followed the + line of his jaw, leaving his upper lip and most of his chin smooth-shaven. + “Did you ever reason out why folks laugh so much at fat people?” he + continued. “No, ma'am. Neither'd anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it, Mr. Martin?” asked Miss Selina. + </p> + <p> + “It's like the Creator's sayin', 'Let there be light.' He says, 'Let + ladies be lovely—'” (Miss Tibbs bowed)—“and 'Let men-folks be + honest—sometimes;' and, 'Let fat people be held up to ridicule till + they fall off.' You can't tell why it is; it was jest ordained + that-a-way.” + </p> + <p> + The room was so crowded that the juvenile portion of the assemblage was + ensconced in the windows. Strange to say, the youth of Plattville were not + present under protest, as their fellows of a metropolis would have been, + lectures being well understood by the young of great cities to have + instructive tendencies. The boys came to-night because they insisted upon + coming. It was an event. Some of them had made sacrifices to come, + enduring even the agony (next to hair-cutting in suffering) of having + their ears washed. Conscious of parental eyes, they fronted the public + with boyhood's professional expressionlessness, though they communicated + with each other aside in a cipher-language of their own, and each group + was a hot-bed of furtive gossip and sarcastic comment. Seated in the + windows, they kept out what small breath of air might otherwise have + stolen in to comfort the audience. + </p> + <p> + Their elders sat patiently dripping with perspiration, most of the + gentlemen undergoing the unusual garniture of stiffly-starched collars, + those who had not cultivated chin beards to obviate such arduous + necessities of pomp and state, hardly bearing up under the added anxiety + of cravats. However, they sat outwardly meek under the yoke; nearly all of + them seeking a quiet solace of tobacco—not that they smoked; Heaven + and the gallantry of Carlow County forbid—nor were there anywhere + visible tokens of the comforting ministrations of nicotine to violate the + eye of etiquette. It is an art of Plattville. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a hum and a stir and a buzz of whispering in the room. + Two gray old men and two pretty young women passed up the aisle to the + platform. One old man was stalwart and ruddy, with a cordial eye and a + handsome, smooth-shaven, big face. The other was bent and trembled + slightly; his face was very white; he had a fine high brow, deeply lined, + the brow of a scholar, and a grandly flowing white beard that covered his + chest, the beard of a patriarch. One of the young women was tall and had + the rosy cheeks and pleasant eyes of her father, who preceded her. The + other was the strange lady. + </p> + <p> + A universal perturbation followed her progress up the aisle, if she had + known it. She was small and fair, very daintily and beautifully made; a + pretty Marquise whose head Greuze should have painted. Mrs. Columbus + Landis, wife of the proprietor of the Palace Hotel, conferring with a lady + in the next seat, applied an over-burdened adjective: “It ain't so much + she's han'some, though she is, that—but don't you notice she's got a + kind of smart look to her? Her bein' so teeny, kind of makes it more so, + somehow, too.” What stunned the gossips of the windows to awed admiration, + however, was the unconcerned and stoical fashion in which she wore a long + bodkin straight through her head. It seemed a large sacrifice merely to + make sure one's hat remained in place. + </p> + <p> + The party took seats a little to the left and rear of the lecturer's + table, and faced the audience. The strange lady chatted gaily with the + other three, apparently as unconscious of the multitude of eyes fixed upon + her as the gazers were innocent of rude intent. There were pretty young + women in Plattville; Minnie Briscoe was the prettiest, and, as the local + glass of fashion reflected, “the stylishest”; but this girl was different, + somehow, in a way the critics were puzzled to discover—different, + from the sparkle of her eyes and the crown of her trim sailor hat, to the + edge of her snowy duck skirt. + </p> + <p> + Judd Bennett sighed a sigh that was heard in every corner of the room. As + everybody immediately turned to look at him, he got up and went out. + </p> + <p> + It had long been a jocose fiction of Mr. Martin, who was a widower of + thirty years' standing, that he and the gifted authoress by his side were + in a state of courtship. Now he bent his rugged head toward her to + whisper: “I never thought to see the day you'd have a rival in my + affections. Miss Seliny, but yonder looks like it. I reckon I'll have to + go up to Ben Tinkle's and buy that fancy vest he's had in stock this last + twelve year or more. Will you take me back when she's left the city again; + Miss Seliny?” he drawled. “I expect, maybe, Miss Sherwood is one of these + here summer girls. I've heard of 'em but I never see one before. You + better take warning and watch me—Fisbee won't have no clear field + from now on.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger leaned across to speak to Miss Briscoe and her sleeve touched + the left shoulder of the old man with the patriarchal white beard. A + moment later he put his right hand to that shoulder and gently moved it up + and down with a caressing motion over the shabby black broadcloth her + garment had touched. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that old Fisbee!” exclaimed Mr. Martin, affecting indignation. + “Never be 'n half as spruced up and wide awake in all his life. He's + prob'ly got her to listen to him on the decorations of Nineveh—it's + my belief he was there when it was destroyed. Well, if I can't cut him out + we'll get our respected young friend of the 'Herald' to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sh!” returned Miss Tibbs. “Here he is.” + </p> + <p> + The seats upon the platform were all occupied, except the two foremost + ones in the centre (one on each side of a little table with a lamp, a + pitcher of ice-water, and a glass) reserved for the lecturer and the + gentleman who was to introduce him. Steps were audible in the hall, and + every one turned to watch the door, where the distinguished pair now made + their appearance in a hush of expectation over which the beating of the + fans alone prevailed. The Hon. Kedge Halloway was one of the gleaners of + the flesh-pots, himself, and he marched into the room unostentatiously + mopping his shining expanse of brow with a figured handkerchief. He was a + person of solemn appearance; a fat gold watch-chain which curved across + his ponderous front, adding mysteriously to his gravity. At his side + strolled a very tall, thin, rather stooping—though broad-shouldered—rather + shabby young man with a sallow, melancholy face and deep-set eyes that + looked tired. When they were seated, the orator looked over his audience + slowly and with an incomparable calm; then, as is always done, he and the + melancholy young man exchanged whispers for a few moments. After this + there was a pause, at the end of which the latter rose and announced that + it was his pleasure and his privilege to introduce, that evening, a + gentleman who needed no introduction to that assemblage. What citizen of + Carlow needed an introduction, asked the speaker, to the orator they had + applauded in the campaigns of the last twenty years, the statesman author + of the Halloway Bill, the most honored citizen of the neighboring and + flourishing county and city of Amo? And, the speaker would say, that if + there were one thing the citizens of Carlow could be held to envy the + citizens of Amo, it was the Honorable Kedge Halloway, the thinker, to + whose widely-known paper they were about to have the pleasure and + improvement of listening. + </p> + <p> + The introduction was so vehemently applauded that, had there been present + a person connected with the theatrical profession, he might have been + nervous for fear the introducer had prepared no encore. “Kedge is too + smart to take it all to himself,” commented Mr. Martin. “He knows it's + half account of the man that said it.” + </p> + <p> + He was not mistaken. Mr. Halloway had learned a certain perceptiveness on + the stump. Resting one hand upon his unfolded notes upon the table, he + turned toward the melancholy young man (who had subsided into the small of + his back in his chair) and, after clearing his throat, observed with + sudden vehemence that he must thank his gifted friend for his flattering + remarks, but that when he said that Carlow envied Amo a Halloway, it must + be replied that Amo grudged no glory to her sister county of Carlow, but, + if Amo could find envy in her heart it would be because Carlow possessed a + paper so sterling, so upright, so brilliant, so enterprising as the + “Carlow County Herald,” and a journalist so talented, so gifted, so + energetic, so fearless, as its editor. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman referred to showed very faint appreciation of these ringing + compliments. There was a lamp on the table beside him, against which, to + the view of Miss Sherwood of Rouen, his face was silhouetted, and very + rarely had it been her lot to see a man look less enthusiastic under + public and favorable comment of himself. She wondered if he, also, + remembered the Muggleton cricket match and the subsequent dinner oratory. + </p> + <p> + The lecture proceeded. The orator winged away to soary heights with + gestures so vigorous as to cause admiration for his pluck in making use of + them on such a night; the perspiration streamed down his face, his neck + grew purple, and he dared the very face of apoplexy, binding his auditors + with a double spell. It is true that long before the peroration the + windows were empty and the boys were eating stolen, unripe fruit in the + orchards of the listeners. The thieves were sure of an alibi. + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Mr. Halloway reached a logical conclusion which convinced even + the combative and unwilling that the present depends largely upon the + past, while the future will be determined, for the most part, by the + conditions of the present. “The future,” he cried, leaning forward with an + expression of solemn warning, “The future is in our own hands, ladies and + gentlemen of the city of Plattville. Is it not so? We will find it so. + Turn it over in your minds.” He leaned backward and folded his hands + benevolently on his stomach and said in a searching whisper; “Ponder it.” + He waited for them to ponder it, and little Mr. Swanter, the druggist and + bookseller, who prided himself on his politeness and who was seated + directly in front, scratched his head and knit his brows to show that he + was pondering it. The stillness was intense; the fans ceased to beat; Mr. + Snoddy could be heard breathing dangerously. Mr. Swanter was considering + the advisability of drawing a pencil from his pocket and figuring on it + upon his cuff, when suddenly, with the energy of a whirlwind, the lecturer + threw out his arms to their fullest extent and roared: “It is a <i>fact</i>! + It is carven on stone in the gloomy caverns of TIME. It is writ in FIRE on + the imperishable walls of Fate!” + </p> + <p> + After the outburst, his voice sank with startling rapidity to a tone of + honeyed confidence, and he wagged an inviting forefinger at Mr. Snoddy, + who opened his mouth. “Shall we take an example? Not from the marvellous, + my friends; let us seek an illustration from the ordinary. Is that not + better? One familiar to the humblest of us. One we can all comprehend. One + from our every-day life. One which will interest even the young. Yes. The + common house-fly. On a window-sill we place a bit of fly-paper, and + contiguous to it, a flower upon which the happy insect likes to feed and + rest. The little fly approaches. See, he hovers between the two. One is a + fatal trap, an ambuscade, and the other a safe harbor and an innocuous + haven. But mystery allures him. He poises, undecided. That is the present. + That, my friends, is the Present! What will he do? WHAT will he do? What + will he DO? Memories of the past are whispering to him: 'Choose the + flower. Light on the posy.' Here we clearly see the influence of the past + upon the present. But, to employ a figure of speech, the fly-paper beckons + to the insect toothsomely, and, thinks he; 'Shall I give it a try? Shall + I? Shall I give it a try?' The future is in his own hands to make or + unmake. The past, the voice of Providence, has counselled him: 'Leave it + alone, leave it alone, little fly. Go away from there.' Does he heed the + warning? Does he heed it, ladies and gentlemen? Does he? Ah, no! He + springs into the air, decides between the two attractions, one of them, so + deadly to his interests and—<i>drops upon the fly-paper to perish + miserably</i>! The future is in his hands no longer. We must lie upon the + bed that we have made, nor can Providence change its unalterable decrees.” + </p> + <p> + After the tragedy, the orator took a swallow of water, mopped his brow + with the figured handkerchief and announced that a new point herewith + presented itself for consideration. The audience sank back with a gasp of + release from the strain of attention. Minnie Briscoe, leaning back, + breathless like the others, became conscious that a tremor agitated her + visitor. Miss Sherwood had bent her head behind the shelter of the judge's + broad shoulders; was shaking slightly and had covered her face with her + hands. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Helen?” whispered Miss Briscoe, anxiously. “What is it? Is + something the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Nothing, dear.” She dropped her hands from her face. Her cheeks + were deep crimson, and she bit her lip with determination. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but there is! Why, you've tears in your eyes. Are you faint? What is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is only—only——” Miss Sherwood choked, then cast a + swift glance at the profile of the melancholy young man. The perfectly + dismal decorum of this gentleman seemed to inspire her to maintain her own + gravity. “It is only that it seemed such a pity about that fly,” she + explained. From where they sat the journalistic silhouette was plainly + visible, and both Fisbee and Miss Sherwood looked toward it often, the + former with the wistful, apologetic fidelity one sees in the eyes of an + old setter watching his master. + </p> + <p> + When the lecture was over many of the audience pressed forward to shake + the Hon. Mr. Halloway's hand. Tom Martin hooked his arm in that of the + sallow gentleman and passed out with him. + </p> + <p> + “Mighty humanizin' view Kedge took of that there insect,” remarked Mr. + Martin. “I don't recollect I ever heard of no mournfuller error than + that'n. I noticed you spoke of Halloway as a 'thinker,' without mentioning + what kind. I didn't know, before, that you were as cautious a man as + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Does your satire find nothing sacred, Martin?” returned the other, “not + even the Honorable Kedge Halloway?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't presume,” replied old Tom, “to make light of the catastrophe + that overtook the heedless fly. When Halloway went on to other subjects I + was so busy picturin' the last moments of that closin' life, stuck there + in the fly-paper, I couldn't listen to him. But there's no use dwellin' on + a sorrow we can't help. Look at the moon; it's full enough to cheer us + up.” They had emerged from the court-house and paused on the street as the + stream of townsfolk divided and passed by them to take different routes + leading from the Square. Not far away, some people were getting into a + buckboard. Fisbee and Miss Sherwood were already on the rear seat. + </p> + <p> + “Who's with him, to-night, Mr. Fisbee?” asked Judge Briscoe in a low + voice. + </p> + <p> + “No one. He is going directly to the office. To-morrow is Thursday, one of + our days of publication.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then it's all right. Climb in, Minnie, we're waiting for you.” The + judge offered his hand to his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “In a moment, father,” she answered. “I'm going to ask him to call,” she + said to the other girl. + </p> + <p> + “But won't he—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Briscoe laughed. “He never comes to see me!” She walked over to where + Martin and the young man were looking up at the moon, and addressed the + journalist. + </p> + <p> + “I've been trying to get a chance to speak to you for a week,” she said, + offering him her hand; “I wanted to tell you I had a friend coming to + visit me Won't you come to see us? She's here.” + </p> + <p> + The young man bowed. “Thank you,” he answered. “Thank you, very much. I + shall be very glad.” His tone had the meaningless quality of perfunctory + courtesy; Miss Briscoe detected only the courtesy; but the strange lady + marked the lack of intention in his words. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you include me, Minnie?” inquired Mr Martin, plaintively. “I'll try + not to be too fascinatin', so as to give our young friend a show. It was + love at first sight with me. I give Miss Seliny warning soon as your folks + come in and I got a good look at the lady.” + </p> + <p> + As the buckboard drove away, Miss Sherwood, who had been gazing + steadfastly at the two figures still standing in the street, the tall + ungainly old one, and the taller, loosely-held young one (he had not + turned to look at her) withdrew her eyes from them, bent them seriously + upon Fisbee, and asked: “What did you mean when you said no one was with + him to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “That no one was watching him,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Watching him? I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he has been shot at from the woods at night and——” + </p> + <p> + The girl shivered. “But who watches him?” + </p> + <p> + “The young men of the town. He has a habit of taking long walks after + dark, and he is heedless of all remonstrance. He laughs at the idea of + curtailing the limit of his strolls or keeping within the town when night + has fallen; so the young men have organized a guard for him, and every + evening one of them follows him until he goes to the office to work for + the night. It is a different young man every evening, and the watcher + follows at a distance so that he does not suspect.” + </p> + <p> + “But how many people know of this arrangement?” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly every one in the county except the Cross-Roads people, though it + is not improbable that they have discovered it.” + </p> + <p> + “And has no one told him” + </p> + <p> + “No; it would annoy him; he would not allow it to continue. He will not + even arm himself.” + </p> + <p> + “They follow and watch him night after night, and every one knows and no + one tells him? Oh, I must say,” cried the girl, “I think these are good + people.” + </p> + <p> + The stalwart old man on the front seat shook out the reins and whined the + whip over his roans' backs. “They are the people of your State and mine. + Miss Sherwood,” he said in his hearty voice, “the best people in God's + world—and I'm not running for Congress, either!” + </p> + <p> + “But how about the Six-Cross-Roads people, father?” asked Minnie. + </p> + <p> + “We'll wipe them clean out some day,” answered her father—“possibly + judicially, possibly——” + </p> + <p> + “Surely judiciously?” suggested Miss Sherwood. + </p> + <p> + “If you care to see what a bad settlement looks like, we'll drive through + there to-morrow—by daylight,” said Briscoe. “Even the doctor doesn't + insist on being in that neighborhood after dark. They are trying their + best to get Harkless, and if they do——” + </p> + <p> + “If they do!” repeated Miss Sherwood. She clasped Fisbee's hand gently. + His eyes shone and he touched her fingers with a strange, shy reverence. + </p> + <p> + “You will meet him to-morrow,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She laughed and pressed his hand. “I'm afraid not. He wasn't even + interested enough to look at me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. LONESOMENESS + </h2> + <p> + When the rusty hands of the office clock marked half-past four, the + editor-in-chief of the “Carlow County Herald” took his hand out of his + hair, wiped his pen on his last notice from the White-Caps, put on his + coat, swept out the close little entry, and left the sanctum for the + bright June afternoon. + </p> + <p> + He chose the way to the west, strolling thoughtfully out of town by the + white, hot, deserted Main Street, and thence onward by the country road + into which its proud half-mile of old brick store buildings, tumbled-down + frame shops and thinly painted cottages degenerated. The sun was in his + face, where the road ran between the summer fields, lying waveless, low, + gracious in promise; but, coming to a wood of hickory and beech and walnut + that stood beyond, he might turn his down-bent-hat-brim up and hold his + head erect. Here the shade fell deep and cool on the green tangle of rag + and iron weed and long grass in the corners of the snake fence, although + the sun beat upon the road so dose beside. There was no movement in the + crisp young leaves overhead; high in the boughs there was a quick flirt of + crimson where two robins hopped noiselessly. No insect raised resentment + of the lonesomeness: the late afternoon, when the air is quite still, had + come; yet there rested—somewhere—on the quiet day, a faint, + pleasant, woody smell. It came to the editor of the “Herald” as he climbed + to the top rail of the fence for a seat, and he drew a long, deep breath + to get the elusive odor more luxuriously—and then it was gone + altogether. + </p> + <p> + “A habit of delicacies,” he said aloud, addressing the wide silence + complainingly. He drew a faded tobacco-bag and a brier pipe from his coat + pocket and filled and lit the pipe. “One taste—and they quit,” he + finished, gazing solemnly upon the shining little town down the road. He + twirled the pouch mechanically about his finger, and then, suddenly + regarding it, patted it caressingly. It had been a giddy little bag, long + ago, satin, and gay with embroidery in the colors of the editor's + university; and although now it was frayed to the verge of tatters, it + still bore an air of pristine jauntiness, an air of which its owner in no + wise partook. He looked from it over the fields toward the town in the + clear distance and sighed softly as he put the pouch back in his pocket, + and, resting his arm on his knee and his chin in his hand, sat blowing + clouds of smoke out of the shade into the sunshine, absently watching the + ghostly shadows dance on the white dust of the road. + </p> + <p> + A little garter snake crept under the fence beneath him and disappeared in + the underbrush; a rabbit progressing timidly on his travels by a series of + brilliant dashes and terror-smitten halts, came within a few yards of him, + sat up with quivering nose and eyes alight with fearful imaginings—vanished, + a flash of fluffy brown and white. Shadows grew longer; the brier pipe + sputtered feebly in depletion and was refilled. A cricket chirped and + heard answer; there was a woodland stir of breezes; and the pair of robins + left the branches overhead in eager flight, vacating before the arrival of + a great flock of blackbirds hastening thither ere the eventide should be + upon them. The blackbirds came, chattered, gossiped, quarrelled, and beat + each other with their wings above the smoker sitting on the top fence + rail. + </p> + <p> + But he had remembered—it was Commencement. To-day, a thousand miles + to the east, a company of grave young gentlemen sat in semi-circular rows + before a central altar, while above them rose many tiers of mothers and + sisters and sweethearts, listening to the final word. He could see it all + very clearly: the lines of freshly shaven, boyish faces, the dainty gowns, + the flowers and bright eyes above, and the light that filtered in through + stained glass to fall softly over them all, with, here and there, a vivid + splash of color, Gothic shaped. He could see the throngs of white-clad + loungers under the elms without, under-classmen, bored by the Latin + addresses and escaped to the sward and breeze of the campus; there were + the troops of roistering graduates trotting about arm in arm, and singing; + he heard the mandolins on the little balconies play an old refrain and the + university cheering afterward; saw the old professor he had cared for most + of all, with the thin white hair straggling over his silken hood, + following the band in the sparse ranks of his class. And he saw his own + Commencement Day—and the station at the junction where he stood the + morning after, looking across the valley at the old towers for the last + time; saw the broken groups of his class, standing upon the platform on + the other side of the tracks, waiting for the south-bound train as he and + others waited for the north-bound—and they all sang “Should auld + acquaintance be forgot;” and, while they looked across at each other, + singing, the shining rails between them wavered and blurred as the engine + rushed in and separated them and their lives thenceforth. He filled his + pipe again and spoke to the phantoms gliding over the dust—“Seven + years!” He was occupied with the realization that there had been a man in + his class whose ambition needed no restraint, his promise was so complete—in + the strong belief of the university, a belief he could not help knowing—and + that seven years to a day from his Commencement this man was sitting on a + fence rail in Indiana. + </p> + <p> + Down the road a buggy came creaking toward him, gray with dust, the top + canted permanently to one side, old and frayed, like the fat, shaggy, gray + mare that drew it; her unchecked, despondent head lowering before her, + while her incongruous tail waved incessantly, like the banner of a + storming party. The editor did not hear the flop of the mare's feet nor + the sound of the wheels, so deep was his reverie, till the vehicle was + nearly opposite him. The red-faced and perspiring driver drew rein, and + the journalist looked up and waved a long white hand to him in greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy' do, Mr. Harkless?” called the man in the buggy. “Soakin' in the + weather?” He spoke in shouts, though neither was hard of hearing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; just soaking,” answered Harkless; “it's such a gypsy day. How is Mr. + Bowlder?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm givin' good satisfaction, thankye, and all at home. She's in town; + goin' in after her now.” + </p> + <p> + “Give Mrs. Bowlder my regards,” said the journalist, comprehending the + symbolism. “How is Hartley?” + </p> + <p> + The farmer's honest face shaded over, a second. “He's be'n steady ever + sence the night you brought him out home; six weeks straight. I'm kind of + bothered about to-morrow—It's show-day and he wants to come in town + with us, and seems if I hadn't any call to say no. I reckon he'll have to + take his chances—and us, too.” He raised the reins and clucked to + the gray mare; “Well, she'll be mad I ain't there long ago. Ride in with + me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I thank you. I'll walk in for the sake of my appetite.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't encourage it <i>too</i> much—livin' at the Palace Hotel,'” + observed Bowlder. “Sorry ye won't ride.” He gathered the loose ends of the + reins in his hands, leaned far over the dashboard and struck the mare a + hearty thwack; the tattered banner of tail jerked indignantly, but she + consented to move down the road. Bowlder thrust his big head through the + sun-curtain behind him and continued the conversation: “See the White-Caps + ain't got ye yet.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet.” Harkless laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon the boys 'druther ye stayed in town after dark,” the other called + back; then, as the mare stumbled into a trot, “Well, come out and see us—if + ye kin spare time from the jedge's.” The latter clause seemed to be an + afterthought intended with humor, for Bowlder accompanied it with the loud + laughter of sylvan timidity, risking a joke. Harkless nodded without the + least apprehension of his meaning, and waved farewell as Bowlder finally + turned his attention to the mare. When the flop, flop of her hoofs had + died out, the journalist realized that the day was silent no longer; it + was verging into evening. + </p> + <p> + He dropped from the fence and turned his face toward town and supper. He + felt the light and life about him; heard the clatter of the blackbirds + above him; heard the homing bees hum by, and saw the vista of white road + and level landscape, framed on two sides by the branches of the grove, a + vista of infinitely stretching fields of green, lined here and there with + woodlands and flat to the horizon line, the village lying in their lap. No + roll of meadow, no rise of pasture land, relieved their serenity nor + shouldered up from them to be called a hill. A second great flock of + blackbirds was settling down over the Plattville maples. As they hung in + the fair dome of the sky below the few white clouds, it occurred to + Harkless that some supping god had inadvertently peppered his custard, and + now inverted and emptied his gigantic blue dish upon the earth, the + innumerable little black dots seeming to poise for a moment, then floating + slowly down from the heights. + </p> + <p> + A farm-bell rang in the distance, a tinkling coming small and mellow from + far away, and at the lonesomeness of that sound he heaved a long, mournful + sigh. The next instant he broke into laughter, for another bell rang over + the fields, the court-house bell in the Square. The first four strokes + were given with mechanical regularity, the pride of the custodian who + operated the bell being to produce the effect of a clock-work bell such as + he had once heard in the court-house at Rouen; but the fifth and sixth + strokes were halting achievements, as, after four o'clock, he often lost + count on the strain of the effort for precise imitation. There was a pause + after the sixth, then a dubious and reluctant stroke—seven—a + longer pause, followed by a final ring with desperate decision—eight! + Harkless looked at his watch; it was twenty minutes of six. + </p> + <p> + As he crossed the court-house yard to the Palace Hotel, he stopped to + exchange a word with the bell-ringer, who, seated on the steps, was + mopping his brow with an air of hard-earned satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Schofields',” he said. “You came in strong on the last + stroke, to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “What we need here,” responded the bell-ringer, “is more public-spirited + men. I ain't kickin' on you, Mr. Harkless, no sir; but we want more men + like they got in Rouen; we want men that'll git Main Street paved with + block or asphalt; men that'll put in factories, men that'll act and not + set round like that ole fool Martin and laugh and polly-woggle and make + fun of public sperrit, day in and out. I reckon I do my best for the + city.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nobody minds Tom Martin,” answered Harkless. “It's only half the time + he means anything by what he says.” + </p> + <p> + “That's jest what I hate about him,” returned the bell-ringer in a tone of + high complaint; “you can't never tell which half it is. Look at him now!” + Over in front of the hotel Martin was standing, talking to the row of + coatless loungers who sat with their chairs tilted back against the props + of the wooden awning that projected over the sidewalk. Their faces were + turned toward the court-house, and even those lost in meditative whittling + had looked up to laugh. Martin, his hands in the pockets of his alpaca + coat, his rusty silk hat tilted forward till the wide brim rested almost + on the bridge of his nose, was addressing them in his one-keyed voice, the + melancholy whine of which, though not the words, penetrated to the + court-house steps. + </p> + <p> + The bell-ringer, whose name was Henry Schofield, but who was known as + Schofield's Henry (popularly abbreviated to Schofields') was moved to + indignation. “Look at him,” he cried. “Look at him! Everlastingly goin' on + about my bell! Let him talk, jest let him talk.” The supper gong boomed + inside the hotel and Harkless bade the bell-ringer good-night. As he moved + away the latter called after him: “He don't disturb nobody. Let him talk. + Who pays any 'tention to him I'd like to know?” There was a burst of + laughter from the whittlers. Schofields' sat in patient silence for a full + minute, as one who knew that no official is too lofty to escape the + anathemas of envy. Then he sprang to his feet and shook his fist at + Martin, who was disappearing within the door of the hotel. “Go to + Halifax!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + The dining-room of the Palace Hotel was a large, airy apartment, rustling + with artistically perforated and slashed pink paper that hung everywhere, + at this season of the year, to lend festal effect as well as to palliate + the scourge of flies. There were six or seven large tables, all vacant + except that at which Columbus Landis, the landlord, sat with his guests, + while his wife and children ate in the kitchen by their own preference. + Transient trade was light in Plattville; nobody ever came there, except + occasional commercial travellers who got out of town the instant it was + possible, and who said awful things if, by the exigencies of the railway + time-table, they were left over night. + </p> + <p> + Behind the host's chair stood a red-haired girl in a blue cotton gown; and + in her hand she languidly waved a long instrument made of clustered strips + of green and white and yellow tissue paper fastened to a wooden wand; with + this she amiably amused the flies except at such times as the conversation + proved too interesting, when she was apt to rest it on the shoulder of one + of the guests. This happened each time the editor of the “Herald” joined + in the talk. As the men seated themselves they all nodded to her and said, + “G'd evening, Cynthy.” Harkless always called her Charmion; no one knew + why. When he came in she moved around the table to a chair directly + opposite him, and held that station throughout the meal, with her eyes + fixed on his face. Mr. Martin noted this manoeuvre—it occurred + regularly twice a day—with a stealthy smile at the girl, and her + light skin flushed while her lip curled shrewishly at the old gentleman. + “Oh, all right, Cynthy,” he whispered to her, and chuckled aloud at her + angry toss of the head. + </p> + <p> + “Schofields' seemed to be kind of put out with me this evening,” he + remarked, addressing himself to the company. “He's the most ungratefullest + cuss I ever come up with. I was only oratin' on how proud the city ought + to be of him. He fairly keeps Plattville's sportin' spirit on the gog; + 'die out, wasn't for him. There's be'n more money laid on him whether + he'll strike over and above the hour, or under and below, or whether he'll + strike fifteen minutes before time, or twenty after, than—well, sir, + we'd all forgit the language if it wasn't for Schofields' bell to keep us + talkin'; that's <i>my</i> claim. Dull days, think of the talk he furnishes + all over town. Think what he's done to promote conversation. Now, for + instance, Anna Belle Bardlock's got a beau, they say”—here old Tom + tilted back in his chair and turned an innocent eye upon a youth across + the table, young William Todd, who was blushing over his griddle-cakes—“and + I hear he's a good deal scared of Anna Belle and not just what you might + call brash with her. They say every Sunday night he'll go up to Bardlocks' + and call on Anna Belle from half-past six till nine, and when he's got + into his chair he sets and looks at the floor and the crayon portraits + till about seven; then he opens his tremblin' lips and says, 'Reckon + Schofields' must be on his way to the court-house by this time.' And about + an hour later, when Schofields' hits four or five, he'll speak up again, + 'Say, I reckon he means eight.' 'Long towards nine o'clock, they say he + skews around in his chair and says, 'Wonder if he'll strike before time or + after,' and Anna Belle answers out loud, 'I hope after,' for politeness; + but in her soul she says, 'I pray before'; and then Schofields' hits her + up for eighteen or twenty, and Anna Belle's company reaches for his hat. + Three Sundays ago he turned around before he went out and said, 'Do you + like apple-butter?' but never waited to find out. It's the same programme + every Sunday evening, and Jim Bardlock says Anna Belle's so worn out you + wouldn't hardly know her for the blithe creature she was last year—the + excitement's be'n too much for her!” + </p> + <p> + Poor William Todd bent his fiery face over the table and suffered the + general snicker in helpless silence. Then there was quiet for a space, + broken only by the click of knives against the heavy china and the + indolent rustle of Cynthia's fly-brush. + </p> + <p> + “Town so still,” observed the landlord, finally, with a complacent glance + at the dessert course of prunes to which his guests were helping + themselves from a central reservoir, “Town so still, hardly seems like + show-day's come round again. Yet there's be'n some shore signs lately: + when my shavers come honeyin' up with, 'Say, pa, ain't they no urrands I + can go for ye, pa? I like to run 'em for you, pa,'—'relse, 'Oh, pa, + ain't they no water I can haul, or nothin', pa?'—'relse, as little + Rosina T. says, this morning, 'Pa, I always pray fer <i>you</i> pa,' and + pa this and pa that-you can rely either Christmas or show-day's mighty + close.” + </p> + <p> + William Todd, taking occasion to prove himself recovered from confusion, + remarked casually that there was another token of the near approach of the + circus, as ole Wilkerson was drunk again. + </p> + <p> + “There's a man!” exclaimed Mr. Martin with enthusiasm. “There's the feller + for <i>my</i> money! He does his duty as a citizen more discriminatin'ly + on public occasions than any man I ever see. There's Wilkerson's + celebration when there's a funeral; look at the difference between it and + on Fourth of July. Why, sir, it's as melancholy as a hearse-plume, and + sympathy ain't the word for it when he looks at the remains, no sir; + preacher nor undertaker, either, ain't <i>half</i> as blue and respectful. + Then take his circus spree. He come into the store this afternoon, head + up, marchin' like a grenadier and shootin' his hand out before his face + and drawin' it back again, and hollering out, 'Ta, ta, ta-ra-ta, ta, + ta-ta-ra'—why, the dumbest man ever lived could see in a minute + show's 'comin' to-morrow and Wilkerson's playin' the trombone. Then he'd + snort and goggle like an elephant. Got the biggest sense of + appropriateness of any man in the county, Wilkerson has. Folks don't half + appreciate him.” + </p> + <p> + As each boarder finished his meal he raided the glass of wooden toothpicks + and went away with no standing on the order of his going; but Martin + waited for Harkless, who, not having attended to business so concisely as + the others, was the last to leave the table, and they stood for a moment + under the awning outside, lighting their cigars. + </p> + <p> + “Call on the judge, to-night?” asked Martin. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Harkless. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you see the lady with Minnie and the judge at the lecture?” + </p> + <p> + “I caught a glimpse of her. That's what Bowlder meant, then.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what Bowlder meant, but I guess you better go out there, + young man. She might not stay here long.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER + </h2> + <p> + The Briscoe buckboard rattled along the elastic country-road, the roans + setting a sharp pace as they turned eastward on the pike toward home and + supper. + </p> + <p> + “They'll make the eight miles in three-quarters of an hour,” said the + judge, proudly. He pointed ahead with his whip. “Just beyond that bend we + pass through Six-Cross-Roads.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Sherwood leaned forward eagerly. “Can we see 'Mr. Wimby's' house from + here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's on the other side, nearer town; we pass it later. It's the only + respectable-looking house in this township.” They reached the turn of the + road, and the judge touched up his colts to a sharper gait. “No need of + dallying,” he observed quietly. “It always makes me a little sick just to + see the place. I'd hate to have a break-down here.” + </p> + <p> + They came in sight of a squalid settlement, built raggedly about a + blacksmith's shop and a saloon. Half-a-dozen shanties clustered near the + forge, a few roofs scattered through the shiftlessly cultivated fields, + four or five barns propped by fence-rails, some sheds with gaping + apertures through which the light glanced from side to side, a squad of + thin, “razor-back” hogs—now and then worried by gaunt hounds—and + some abused-looking hens, groping about disconsolately in the mire, a + broken-topped buggy with a twisted wheel settling into the mud of the + middle of the road (there was always abundant mud, here, in the dryest + summer), a lowering face sneering from a broken window—Six-Cross-Roads + was forbidding and forlorn enough by day. The thought of what might issue + from it by night was unpleasant, and the legends of the Cross-Roads, + together with an unshapen threat, easily fancied in the atmosphere of the + place, made Miss Sherwood shiver as though a cold draught had crossed her. + </p> + <p> + “It is so sinister!” she exclaimed. “And so unspeakably mean! This is + where they live, the people who hate him, is it? The 'White-Caps'?” + </p> + <p> + “They are just a lot of rowdies,” replied Briscoe. “You have your rough + corners in big cities, and I expect there are mighty few parts of any + country that don't have their tough neighborhoods, only Six-Cross-Roads + happens to be worse than most. They choose to call themselves + 'White-Caps,' but I guess it's just a name they like to give themselves. + Usually White-Caps are a vigilance committee going after rascalities the + law doesn't reach, or won't reach, but these fellows are not that kind. + They got together to wipe out their grudges—and sometimes they + didn't need any grudge and let loose their deviltries just for pure + orneriness; setting haystacks afire and such like; or, where a farmer had + offended them, they would put on their silly toggery and take him out at + midnight and whip him and plunder his house and chase the horses and + cattle into his corn, maybe. They say the women went with them on their + raids.” + </p> + <p> + “And he was the first to try to stop them?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see our folks are pretty long-suffering,” Briscoe replied, + apologetically. “We'd sort of got used to the meanness of the Cross-Roads. + It took a stranger to stir things up—and he did. He sent eight of + 'em to the penitentiary, some for twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + As they passed the saloon a man stepped into the doorway and looked at + them. He was coatless and clad in garments worn to the color of dust; his + bare head was curiously malformed, higher on one side than on the other, + and though the buckboard passed rapidly, and at a distance, this singular + lopsidedness was plainly visible to the occupants, lending an ugly + significance to his meagre, yellow face. He was tall, lean, hard, + powerfully built. He eyed the strangers with affected languor, and then, + when they had gone by, broke into sudden, loud laughter. + </p> + <p> + “That was Bob Skillett, the worst of the lot,” said the judge. “Harkless + sent his son and one brother to prison, and it nearly broke his heart that + he couldn't swear to Bob.” + </p> + <p> + When they were beyond the village and in the open road again. Miss + Sherwood took a deep breath. “I think I breathe more freely,” she said. + “That was a hideous laugh he sent after us. I had heard of places like + this before—and I don't think I care to see many of them. As I + understand it, Six-Cross-Roads is entirely vicious, isn't it; and bears + the same relation to the country that the slums do to a city?'” + </p> + <p> + “That's about it. They make their own whiskey. I presume; and they have + their own fights amongst themselves, but they settle 'em themselves, too, + and keep their own counsel and hush it up. Lige Willetts, Minnie's friend—I + guess she's told you about Lige?—well, Lige Willetts will go + anywhere when he's following a covey, though mostly the boys leave this + part of the country alone when they're hunting; but Lige got into a + thicket back of the forge one morning, and he came on a crowd of buzzards + quarrelling over a heap on the ground, and he got out in a hurry. He said + he was sure it was a dog; but he ran almost all the way to Plattville.” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” exclaimed his daughter, leaning from the back seat. “Don't tell + such stories to Helen; she'll think we're horrible, and you'll frighten + her, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it isn't exactly a lady's story,” said the judge. He glanced at his + guest's face and chuckled. “I guess we won't frighten her much,” he went + on. “Young lady, I don't believe you'd be afraid of many things, would + you? You don't look like it. Besides, the Cross-Roads isn't Plattville, + and the White-Caps have been too scared to do anything much, except try to + get even with the 'Herald,' for the last two years; ever since it went for + them. They're laying for Harkless partly for revenge and partly because + they daren't do anything until he's out of the way.” + </p> + <p> + The girl gave a low cry with a sharp intake of breath. “Ah! One grows + tired of this everlasting American patience! Why don't the Plattville + people do something before they——” + </p> + <p> + “It's just as I say,” Briscoe answered; “our folks are sort of used to + them. I expect we do about all we can; the boys look after him nights, and + the main trouble is that we can't make him understand he ought to be more + afraid of them. If he'd lived here all his life he would be. You know + there's an old-time feud between the Cross-Roads and our folks; goes way + back into pioneer history and mighty few know anything of it. Old William + Platt and the forefathers of the Bardlocks and Tibbses and Briscoes and + Schofields moved up here from North Carolina a good deal just to get away + from some bad neighbors, mostly Skilletts and Johnsons—one of the + Skilletts had killed old William Platt's two sons. But the Skilletts and + Johnsons followed all the way to Indiana to join in making the new + settlement, and they shot Platt at his cabin door one night, right where + the court-house stands to-day. Then the other settlers drove them out for + good, and they went seven miles west and set up a still. A band of + Indians, on the way to join the Shawnee Prophet at Tippecanoe, came down + on the Cross-Roads, and the Cross-Roaders bought them off with bad whiskey + and sent them over to Plattville. Nearly all the Plattville men were away, + fighting under Harrison, and when they came back there were only a few + half-crazy women and children left. They'd hid in the woods. + </p> + <p> + “The men stopped just long enough to hear how it was, and started for the + Cross-Roads; but the Cross-Roads people caught them in an ambush and not + many of our folks got back. + </p> + <p> + “We really never did get even with them, though all the early settlers + lived and died still expecting to see the day when Plattville would go + over and pay off the score. It's the same now as it was then, good stock + with us, bad stock over here; and all the country riff-raff in creation + come and live with 'em when other places get too hot to hold them. Only + one or two of us old folks know what the original trouble was about; but + you ask a Plattville man, to-day, what he thinks of the Cross-Roads and + he'll be mighty apt to say, 'I guess we'll all have to go over there some + time and wipe those hoodlums out.' It's been coming to that a long time. + The work the 'Herald' did has come nearer bringing us even with + Six-Cross-Roads than anything else ever has. Queer, too—a man that's + only lived in Plattville a few years to be settling such an old score for + us. They'll do their best to get him, and if they do there'll be trouble + of an illegal nature. I think our people would go over there again, but I + expect there wouldn't be any ambush this time; and the pioneers, might + rest easier in—” He broke off suddenly and nodded to a little old + man in a buckboard, who was turning off from the road into a farm lane + which led up to a trim cottage with a honeysuckle vine by the door. + “That's Mrs. Wimby's husband,” said the judge in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + Miss Sherwood observed that “Mrs. Wimby's husband” was remarkable for the + exceeding plaintiveness of his expression. He was a weazened, blank, + pale-eyed little man, with a thin, white mist of neck whisker; his coat + was so large for him that the sleeves were rolled up from his wrists with + several turns, and, as he climbed painfully to the ground to open the gate + of the lane, it needed no perspicuous eye to perceive that his trousers + had been made for a much larger man, for, as his uncertain foot left the + step of his vehicle, one baggy leg of the garment fell down over his foot, + completely concealing his boot and hanging some inches beneath. A faintly + vexed expression crossed his face as he endeavored to arrange the + disorder, but he looked up and returned Briscoe's bow, sadly, with an air + of explaining that he was accustomed to trouble, and that the trousers had + behaved no worse than he expected. + </p> + <p> + No more inoffensive or harmless figure than this feeble little old man + could be imagined; yet his was the distinction of having received a + terrible visit from his neighbors of the Cross-Roads. Mrs. Wimby was a + widow, who owned a comfortable farm, and she had refused every offer of + the neighboring ill-eligible bachelors to share it. However, a vagabonding + tinker won her heart, and after their marriage she continued to be known + as “Mrs. Wimby”; for so complete was the bridegroom's insignificance that + it extended to his name, which proved quite unrememberable, and he was + usually called “Widder-Woman Wimby's Husband,” or, more simply, “Mr. + Wimby.” The bride supplied the needs of his wardrobe with the garments of + her former husband, and, alleging this proceeding as the cause of their + anger, the Cross-Roads raiders, clad as “White-Caps,” broke into the + farmhouse one night, looted it, tore the old man from his bed, and + compelling his wife, who was tenderly devoted to him, to watch, they + lashed him with sapling shoots till he was near to death. A little yellow + cur, that had followed his master on his wanderings, was found licking the + old man's wounds, and they deluged the dog with kerosene and then threw + the poor animal upon a bonfire they had made, and danced around it in + heartiest enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + The man recovered, but that was no palliation of the offense to the mind + of a hot-eyed young man from the East, who was besieging the county + authorities for redress and writing brimstone and saltpetre for his paper. + The powers of the county proving either lackadaisical or timorous, he + appealed to those of the State, and he went every night to sleep at a + farmhouse, the owner of which had received a warning from the + “White-Caps.” And one night it befell that he was rewarded, for the + raiders attempted an entrance. He and the farmer and the former's sons + beat off the marauders and did a satisfactory amount of damage in return. + Two of the “White-Caps” they captured and bound, and others they + recognized. Then the State authorities hearkened to the voice of the + “Herald” and its owner; there were arrests, and in the course of time + there was a trial. Every prisoner proved an alibi, could have proved a + dozen; but the editor of the “Herald,” after virtually conducting the + prosecution, went upon the stand and swore to man after man. Eight men + went to the penitentiary on his evidence, five of them for twenty years. + The Plattville Brass Band serenaded the editor of the “Herald” again. + </p> + <p> + There were no more raids, and the Six-Cross-Roads men who were left kept + to their hovels, appalled and shaken, but, as time went by and left them + unmolested, they recovered a measure of their hardiness and began to think + on what they should do to the man who had brought misfortune and terror + upon them. For a long time he had been publishing their threatening + letters and warnings in a column which he headed: “Humor of the Day.” + </p> + <p> + “Harkless don't understand the Cross-Roads,” Briscoe said to Miss Sherwood + as they left the Wimby farm behind; “and then he's like most of us; hardly + any of us realizes that harm's ever going to come to <i>us</i>. Harkless + was anxious enough about other people, but——” + </p> + <p> + The young lady interrupted him, touching his arm. “Look!” she said, + “Didn't you see a child, a little girl, ahead of us on the road?” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed one a minute ago, but she's not there now,” answered Briscoe. + </p> + <p> + “There was a child walking along the road just ahead, but she turned and + saw us coming, and she disappeared in the most curious way; she seemed to + melt into the weeds at the roadside, across from the elder-bush yonder.” + </p> + <p> + The judge pulled in the horses by the elder-bush. “No child here, now,” he + said, “but you're right; there certainly was one, just before you spoke.” + The young corn was low in the fields, and there was no hiding-place in + sight. + </p> + <p> + “I'm very superstitious; I am sure it was an imp,” Miss Sherwood said. “An + imp or a very large chameleon; she was exactly the color of the road.” + </p> + <p> + “A Cross-Roads imp,” said the judge, lifting the reins, “and in that case + we might as well give up. I never set up to be a match for those people, + and the children are as mean as their fathers, and smarter.” + </p> + <p> + When the buckboard had rattled on a hundred yards or so, a little figure + clad in a tattered cotton gown rose up from the weeds, not ten feet from + where the judge had drawn rein, and continued its march down the road + toward Plattville, capering in the dust and pursuing the buckboard with + malignant gestures till the clatter of the horses was out of hearing, the + vehicle out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Something over two hours later, as Mr. Martin was putting things to rights + in his domain, the Dry-Goods Emporium, previous to his departure for the + evening's gossip and checkers at the drug-store, he stumbled over + something soft, lying on the floor behind a counter. The thing rose, and + would have evaded him, but he put out his hands and pinioned it and + dragged it to the show-window where the light of the fading day defined + his capture. The capture shrieked and squirmed and fought earnestly. + Grasped by the shoulder he held a lean, fierce-eyed, undersized girl of + fourteen, clad in one ragged cotton garment, unless the coat of dust she + wore over all may be esteemed another. Her cheeks were sallow, and her + brow was already shrewdly lined, and her eyes were as hypocritical as they + were savage. She was very thin and little, but old Tom's brown face grew a + shade nearer white when the light fell upon her. + </p> + <p> + “You're no Plattville girl,” he said sharply. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” cried the child. “You lie! I am! You leave me go, will you? I'm + lookin' fer pap and you're a liar!” + </p> + <p> + “You crawled in here to sleep, after your seven-mile walk, didn't you?” + Martin went on. + </p> + <p> + “You're a liar,” she screamed again. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Martin, slowly, “you go back to Six-Cross-Roads and tell + your folks that if anything happens to a hair of Mr. Harkless's head every + shanty in your town will burn, and your grandfather and your father and + your uncles and your brothers and your cousins and your second-cousins and + your third-cousins will never have the good luck to see the penitentiary. + Reckon you can remember that message? But before I let you go to carry it, + I guess you might as well hand out the paper they sent you over here + with.” + </p> + <p> + His prisoner fell into a paroxysm of rage, and struck at him. + </p> + <p> + “I'll git pap to kill ye,” she shrieked. “I don' know nothin' 'bout yer + Six-Cross-Roads, ner no papers, ner yer dam Mister Harkels neither, ner <i>you</i>, + ye razor-backed ole devil! Pap'll kill ye; leave me go—leave me <i>go</i>!—Pap'll + kill ye; I'll git him to <i>kill</i> ye!” Suddenly her struggles ceased; + her eyes closed; her tense little muscles relaxed and she drooped toward + the floor; the old man shifted his grip to support her, and in an instant + she twisted out of his hands and sprang out of reach, her eyes shining + with triumph and venom. + </p> + <p> + “Ya-hay, Mister Razor-back!” she shrilled. “How's that fer hi? Pap'll kill + ye, Sunday. You'll be screechin' in hell in a week, an' we 'ull set up an' + drink our apple-jack an' laff!” Martin pursued her lumberingly, but she + was agile as a monkey, and ran dodging up and down the counters and mocked + him, singing “Gran' mammy Tipsy-Toe,” till at last she tired of the game + and darted out of the door, flinging back a hoarse laugh at him as she + went. He followed; but when he reached the street she was a mere shadow + flitting under the courthouse trees. He looked after her forebodingly, + then turned his eyes toward the Palace Hotel. The editor of the “Herald” + was seated under the awning, with his chair tilted back against a post, + gazing dreamily at the murky red afterglow in the west. + </p> + <p> + “What's the use of tryin' to bother him with it?” old Tom asked himself. + “He'd only laugh.” He noted that young William Todd sat near the editor, + whittling absently. Martin chuckled. “William's turn to-night,” he + muttered. “Well, the boys take mighty good care of him.” He locked the + doors of the Emporium, tried them, and dropped the keys in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + As he crossed the Square to the drug-store, where his cronies awaited him, + he turned again to look at the figure of the musing journalist. “I hope + he'll go out to the judge's,” he said, and shook his head, sadly. “I don't + reckon Plattville's any too spry for that young man. Five years he's be'n + here. Well, it's a good thing for us folks, but I guess it ain't exactly + high-life for him.” He kicked a stick out of his way impatiently. “Now, + where'd that imp run to?” he grumbled. + </p> + <p> + The imp was lying under the court-house steps. When the sound of Martin's + footsteps had passed away, she crept cautiously from her hiding-place and + stole through the ungroomed grass to the fence opposite the hotel. Here + she stretched herself flat in the weeds and took from underneath the + tangled masses of her hair, where it was tied with a string, a rolled-up, + crumpled slip of greasy paper. With this in her fingers, she lay peering + under the fence, her fierce eyes fixed unwinkingly on Harkless and the + youth sitting near him. + </p> + <p> + The street ran flat and gray in the slowly gathering dusk, straight to the + western horizon where the sunset embers were strewn in long, dark-red + streaks; the maple trees were clean-cut silhouettes against the pale rose + and pearl tints of the sky above, and a tenderness seemed to tremble in + the air. Harkless often vowed to himself he would watch no more sunsets in + Plattville; he realized that their loveliness lent a too unhappy tone to + the imaginings and introspections upon which he was thrown by the + loneliness of the environment, and he considered that he had too much time + in which to think about himself. For five years his introspections had + monotonously hurled one word at him: “Failure; Failure! Failure!” He + thought the sunsets were making him morbid. Could he have shared them, + that would have been different. + </p> + <p> + His long, melancholy face grew longer and more melancholy in the twilight, + while William Todd patiently whittled near by. Plattville had often + discussed the editor's habit of silence, and Mr. Martin had suggested that + possibly the reason Mr. Harkless was such a quiet man was that there was + nobody for him to talk to. His hearers did not agree, for the population + of Carlow County was a thing of pride, being greater than that of several + bordering counties. They did agree, however, that Harkless's quiet was not + unkind, whatever its cause, and that when it was broken it was usually + broken to conspicuous effect. Perhaps it was because he wrote so much that + he hated to talk. + </p> + <p> + A bent figure came slowly down the street, and William hailed it + cheerfully: “Evening, Mr. Fisbee.” + </p> + <p> + “A good evening, Mr. Todd,” answered the old man, pausing. “Ah, Mr. + Harkless, I was looking for you.” He had not seemed to be looking for + anything beyond the boundaries of his own dreams, but he approached + Harkless, tugging nervously at some papers in his pocket. “I have + completed my notes for our Saturday edition. It was quite easy; there is + much doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Fisbee,” said Harkless, as he took the manuscript. “Have + you finished your paper on the earlier Christian symbolism? I hope the + 'Herald' may have the honor of printing it.” This was the form they used. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be the recipient of honor, sir,” returned Fisbee. “Your kind + offer will speed my work; but I fear, Mr. Harkless, I very much fear, that + your kindness alone prompts it, for, deeply as I desire it, I cannot + truthfully say that my essays appear to increase our circulation.” He made + an odd, troubled gesture as he went on: “They do not seem to read them + here, Mr. Harkless, although Mr. Martin assures me that he carefully + peruses my article on Chaldean decoration whenever he rearranges his + exhibition windows, and I bear in mind the clipping from a Rouen paper you + showed me, commenting generously upon the scholarship of the 'Herald.' But + for fifteen years I have tried to improve the art feeling in Plattville, + and I may say that I have worked in the face of no small discouragement. + In fact,” (there was a slight quaver in Fisbee's voice), “I cannot + remember that I ever received the slightest word or token of encouragement + till you came, Mr. Harkless. Since then I have labored with refreshed + energy; still, I cannot claim that our architecture shows a change for the + better, and I fear the engravings upon the walls of our people exhibit no + great progress in selection. And—I—I wish also to say, Mr. + Harkless, if you find it necessary to make some alterations in the form of + my reportorial items for Saturday's issue, I shall perfectly understand, + remembering your explanation that journalism demands it. Good-evening, Mr. + Harkless. Good-evening, Mr. Todd.” He plodded on a few paces, then turned, + irresolutely. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Fisbee?” asked Harkless. + </p> + <p> + Fisbee stood for a moment, as though about to speak, then he smiled + faintly, shook his head, and went his way. Harkless stared after him, + surprised. It suddenly struck him, with a feeling of irritation, that if + Fisbee had spoken it would have been to advise him to call at Judge + Briscoe's. He laughed impatiently at the notion, and, drawing his pencil + and a pad from his pocket, proceeded to injure his eyes in the waning + twilight by the editorial perusal of the items his staff had just left in + his hands. When published, the manuscript came under a flaring heading, + bequeathed by Harkless's predecessor in the chair of the “Herald,” and the + alteration of which he felt Plattville would refuse to sanction: + “Happenings of Our City.” Below, was printed in smaller type: + “Improvements in the World of Business,” and, beneath that, came the + rubric: “Also, the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb.” + </p> + <p> + The first of Fisbee's items was thus recorded: “It may be noted that the + new sign-board of Mr. H. Miller has been put in place. We cannot but + regret that Mr. Miller did not instruct the painter to confine himself to + a simpler method of lettering.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Fisbee,” murmured the editor, reproachfully, “that new sign-board is + almost the only improvement in the World of Business Plattville has seen + this year. I wonder how many times we have used it from the first, 'It is + rumored in business circles that Herve Miller contemplates'—to the + exciting, 'Under Way,' and, 'Finishing Touches.' My poor White Knight, are + five years of training wasted on you? Sometimes you make me fear it. Here + is Plattville panting for our story of the hanging of the sign, and you + throw away the climax like that!” He began to write rapidly, bending low + over the pad in the half darkness. His narrative was an amplification of + the interesting information (already possessed by every inhabitant) that + Herve Miller had put up a new sign. After a paragraph of handsome + description, “Herve is always enterprising,” wrote the editor. “This is a + move in the right direction. Herve, keep it up.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced over the other items meditatively, making alterations here and + there. The last two Fisbee had written as follows: + </p> + <p> + “There is noticeable in the new (and somewhat incongruous) portico erected + by Solomon Tibbs at the residence of Mr. Henry Tibbs Willetts, an attempt + at rococo decoration which cannot fail to sadden the passer-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Sherwood of Rouen, whom Miss Briscoe knew at the Misses Jennings' + finishing-school in New York, is a guest of Judge Briscoe's household.” + </p> + <p> + Fisbee's items were written in ink; and there was a blank space beneath + the last. At the bottom of the page something had been scribbled in + pencil. Harkless tried vainly to decipher it, but the twilight had fallen + too deep, and the writing was too faint, so he struck a match and held it + close to the paper. The action betokened only a languid interest, but when + he caught sight of the first of the four subscribed lines he sat up + straight in his chair with an ejaculation. At the bottom of Fisbee's page + was written in a dainty, feminine hand, of a type he had not seen for + years: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'The time has come,' the Walrus said, + 'To talk of many things: + Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax— + And cabbages—and kings—'” + </pre> + <p> + He put the paper in his pocket, and set off rapidly down the village + street. + </p> + <p> + At his departure William Todd looked up quickly; then he got upon his feet + and quietly followed the editor. In the dusk a tattered little figure rose + up from the weeds across the way, and stole noiselessly after William. He + was in his shirt-sleeves, his waistcoat unbuttoned and loose. On the + nearest corner Mr. Todd encountered a fellow-townsman, who had been pacing + up and down in front of a cottage, crooning to a protestive baby held in + his arms. He had paused in his vigil to stare after Harkless. + </p> + <p> + “Whereas he bound for, William?” inquired the man with the baby. + </p> + <p> + “Briscoes',” answered William, pursuing his way. + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned he would be,” commented the other, turning to his wife, who + sat on the doorstep, “I reckoned so when I see that lady at the lecture + last night.” + </p> + <p> + The woman rose to her feet. “Hi, Bill Todd!” she said. “What you got onto + the back of your vest?” William paused, put his hand behind him and + encountered a paper pinned to the dangling strap of his waistcoat. The + woman ran to him and unpinned the paper. It bore a writing. They took it + to where the yellow lamp-light shone through the open door, and read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “der Sir + “FoLer harkls aL yo ples an gaRd him yoR + best venagesn is closteR, harkls not Got 3 das to liv + “We come in Wite.” + </pre> + <p> + “What ye think, William?” asked the man with the baby, anxiously. But the + woman gave the youth a sharp push with her hand. “They never dast to do + it!” she cried. “Never in the world! You hurry, Bill Todd. Don't you leave + him out of your sight one second.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. AT THE PASTURE BARS: ELDER-BUSHES MAY HAVE STINGS + </h2> + <p> + The street upon which the Palace Hotel fronted formed the south side of + the Square and ran west to the edge of the town, where it turned to the + south for a quarter of a mile or more, then bent to the west again. Some + distance from this second turn, there stood, fronting close on the road, a + large brick house, the most pretentious mansion in Carlow County. And yet + it was a homelike place, with its red-brick walls embowered in masses of + cool Virginia creeper, and a comfortable veranda crossing the broad front, + while half a hundred stalwart sentinels of elm and beech and poplar stood + guard around it. The front walk was bordered by geraniums and hollyhocks; + and honeysuckle climbed the pillars of the porch. Behind the house there + was a shady little orchard; and, back of the orchard, an old-fashioned, + very fragrant rose-garden, divided by a long grape arbor, extended to the + shallow waters of a wandering creek; and on the bank a rustic seat was + placed, beneath the sycamores. + </p> + <p> + From the first bend of the road, where it left the town and became (after + some indecision) a country highway—called the pike—rather than + a proud city boulevard, a pathway led through the fields to end at some + pasture bars opposite the brick house. + </p> + <p> + John Harkless was leaning on the pasture bars. The stars were wan, and the + full moon shone over the fields. Meadows and woodlands lay quiet under the + old, sweet marvel of a June night. In the wide monotony of the flat lands, + there sometimes comes a feeling that the whole earth is stretched out + before one. To-night it seemed to lie so, in the pathos of silent beauty, + all passive and still; yet breathing an antique message, sad, mysterious, + reassuring. But there had come a divine melody adrift on the air. Through + the open windows it floated. Indoors some one struck a peal of silver + chords, like a harp touched by a lover, and a woman's voice was lifted. + John Harkless leaned on the pasture bars and listened with upraised head + and parted lips. + </p> + <p> + “To thy chamber window roving, love hath led my feet.” + </p> + <p> + The Lord sent manna to the children of Israel in the wilderness. Harkless + had been five years in Plattville, and a woman's voice singing Schubert's + serenade came to him at last as he stood by the pasture bars of Jones's + field and listened and rested his dazzled eyes on the big, white face of + the moon. + </p> + <p> + How long had it been since he had heard a song, or any discourse of music + other than that furnished by the Plattville Band—not that he had not + taste for a brass band! But music that he loved always gave him an ache of + delight and the twinge of reminiscences of old, gay days gone forever. + To-night his memory leaped to the last day of a June gone seven years; to + a morning when the little estuary waves twinkled in the bright sun about + the boat in which he sat, the trim launch that brought a cheery party + ashore from their schooner to the Casino landing at Winter Harbor, far up + on the Maine coast. + </p> + <p> + It was the happiest of those last irresponsible days before he struck into + his work in the world and became a failure. To-night he saw the picture as + plainly as if it were yesterday; no reminiscence had risen so keenly + before his eyes for years: pretty Mrs. Van Skuyt sitting beside him—pretty + Mrs. Van Skuyt and her roses! What had become of her? He saw the crowd of + friends waiting on the pier for their arrival, and the dozen or so + emblazoned classmates (it was in the time of brilliant flannels) who + suddenly sent up a volley of college cheers in his honor—how plainly + the dear, old, young faces rose up before him to-night, the men from whose + lives he had slipped! Dearest and jolliest of the faces was that of Tom + Meredith, clubmate, classmate, his closest friend, the thin, red-headed + third baseman; he could see Tom's mouth opened at least a yard, it seemed, + such was his frantic vociferousness. Again and again the cheers rang out, + “Harkless! Harkless!” on the end of them. In those days everybody + (particularly his classmates) thought he would be minister to England in a + few years, and the orchestra on the Casino porch was playing “The + Conquering Hero,” in his honor, and at the behest of Tom Meredith, he + knew. + </p> + <p> + There were other pretty ladies besides Mrs. Van Skuyt in the launch-load + from the yacht, but, as they touched the pier, pretty girls, or pretty + women, or jovial gentlemen, all were overlooked in the wild scramble the + college men made for their hero. They haled him forth, set him on high, + bore him on their shoulders, shouting “Skal to the Viking!” and carried + him up the wooded bluff to the Casino. He heard Mrs. Van Skuyt say, “Oh, + we're used to it; we've put in at several other places where he had + friends!” He struggled manfully to be set down, but his triumphal + procession swept on. He heard bystanders telling each other, “It's that + young Harkless, 'the Great Harkless,' they're all so mad about”; and while + it pleased him a little to hear such things, they always made him laugh a + great deal. He had never understood his popularity: he had been chief + editor of the university daily, and he had done a little in athletics, and + the rest of his distinction lay in college offices his mates had heaped + upon him without his being able to comprehend why they did it. And yet, + somehow, and in spite of himself, they had convinced him that the world + was his oyster; that it would open for him at a touch. He could not help + seeing how the Freshmen looked at him, how the Sophomores jumped off the + narrow campus walks to let him pass; he could not help knowing that he was + the great man of his time, so that “The Great Harkless” came to be one of + the traditions of the university. He remembered the wild progress they + made for him up the slope that morning at Winter Harbor, how the people + baked on, and laughed, and clapped their hands. But at the veranda edge he + had noticed a little form disappearing around a corner of the building; a + young girl running away as fast as she could. + </p> + <p> + “See there!” he said, as the tribe set him down, “You have frightened the + populace.” And Tom Meredith stopped shouting long enough to answer, “It's + my little cousin, overcome with emotion. She's been counting the hours + till you came—been hearing of you from me and others for a good + while; and hasn't been able to talk or think of anything else. She's only + fifteen, and the crucial moment is too much for her—the Great + Harkless has arrived, and she has fled.” + </p> + <p> + He remembered other incidents of his greatness, of the glory that now + struck him as rarely comical; he hoped he hadn't taken it too seriously + then, in the flush of his youth. Maybe, after all, he had been a, + big-headed boy, but he must have bottled up his conceit tightly enough, or + the other boys would have detected it and abhorred him. He was inclined to + believe that he had not been very much set up by the pomp they made for + him. At all events, that day at Winter Harbor had been beautiful, full of + the laughter of friends and music; for there was a musicale at the Casino + in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + But the present hour grew on him as he leaned on the pasture bars, and + suddenly his memories sped; and the voice that was singing Schubert's + serenade across the way touched him with the urgent, personal appeal that + a present beauty always had for him. It was a soprano; and without + tremolo, yet came to his ear with a certain tremulous sweetness; it was + soft and slender, but the listener knew it could be lifted with fullness + and power if the singer would. It spoke only of the song, yet the listener + thought of the singer. Under the moon thoughts run into dreams, and he + dreamed that the owner of the voice, she who quoted “The Walrus and the + Carpenter” on Fisbee's notes, was one to laugh with you and weep with you; + yet her laughter would be tempered with sorrow, and her tears with + laughter. + </p> + <p> + When the song was ended, he struck the rail he leaned upon a sharp blow + with his open hand. There swept over him a feeling that he had stood + precisely where he stood now, on such a night, a thousand years ago, had + heard that voice and that song, had listened and been moved by the song, + and the night, just as he was moved now. + </p> + <p> + He had long known himself for a sentimentalist; he had almost given up + trying to cure himself. And he knew himself for a born lover; he had + always been in love with some one. In his earlier youth his affections had + been so constantly inconstant that he finally came to settle with his + self-respect by recognizing in himself a fine constancy that worshipped + one woman always—it was only the shifting image of her that changed! + Somewhere (he dreamed, whimsically indulgent of the fancy; yet mocking + himself for it) there was a girl whom he had never seen, who waited till + he should come. She was Everything. Until he found her, he could not help + adoring others who possessed little pieces and suggestions of her—her + brilliancy, her courage, her short upper lip, “like a curled roseleaf,” or + her dear voice, or her pure profile. He had no recollection of any lady + who had quite her eyes. + </p> + <p> + He had never passed a lovely stranger on the street, in the old days, + without a thrill of delight and warmth. If he never saw her again, and the + vision only lasted the time it takes a lady to cross the sidewalk from a + shop door to a carriage, he was always a little in love with her, because + she bore about her, somewhere, as did every pretty girl he ever saw, a + suggestion of the far-away divinity. One does not pass lovely strangers in + the streets of Plattville. Miss Briscoe was pretty, but not at all in the + way that Harkless dreamed. For five years the lover in him that had loved + so often had been starved of all but dreams. Only at twilight and dusk in + the summer, when, strolling, he caught sight of a woman's skirt, far up + the village street—half-outlined in the darkness under the cathedral + arch of meeting branches—this romancer of petticoats could sigh a + true lover's sigh, and, if he kept enough distance between, fly a yearning + fancy that his lady wandered there. + </p> + <p> + Ever since his university days the image of her had been growing more and + more distinct. He had completely settled his mind as to her appearance and + her voice. She was tall, almost too tall, he was sure of that; and out of + his consciousness there had grown a sweet and vivacious young face that he + knew was hers. Her hair was light-brown with gold lustres (he reveled in + the gold lustres, on the proper theory that when your fancy is painting a + picture you may as well go in for the whole thing and make it sumptuous), + and her eyes were gray. They were very earnest, and yet they sparkled and + laughed to him companionably; and sometimes he had smiled back upon her. + The Undine danced before him through the lonely years, on fair nights in + his walks, and came to sit by his fire on winter evenings when he stared + alone at the embers. + </p> + <p> + And to-night, here in Plattville, he heard a voice he had waited for long, + one that his fickle memory told him he had never heard before. But, + listening, he knew better—he had heard it long ago, though when and + how, he did not know, as rich and true, and ineffably tender as now. He + threw a sop to his common sense. “Miss Sherwood is a little thing” (the + image was so surely tall) “with a bumpy forehead and spectacles,” he said + to himself, “or else a provincial young lady with big eyes to pose at + you.” Then he felt the ridiculousness of looking after his common sense on + a moonlight night in June; also, he knew that he lied. + </p> + <p> + The song had ceased, but the musician lingered, and the keys were touched + to plaintive harmonies new to him. He had come to Plattville before + “Cavalleria Rusticana” was sung at Rome, and now, entranced, he heard the + “Intermezzo” for the first time. Listening to this, he feared to move lest + he should wake from a summer-night's dream. + </p> + <p> + A ragged little shadow flitted down the path behind him, and from a + solitary apple-tree, standing like a lonely ghost in the middle of the + field, came the <i>woo</i> of a screech owl—twice. It was answered—twice—from + a clump of elder-bushes that grew in a fence-corner fifty yards west of + the pasture bars. Then the barrel of a squirrel rifle issued, lifted out + of the white elder-blossoms, and lay along the fence. The music in the + house across the way ceased, and Harkless saw two white dresses come out + through the long parlor windows to the veranda. + </p> + <p> + “It will be cooler out here,” came the voice of the singer clearly through + the quiet. “What a night!” + </p> + <p> + John vaulted the bars and started to cross the road. They saw him from the + veranda, and Miss Briscoe called to him in welcome. As his tall figure + stood out plainly in the bright light against the white dust, a streak of + fire leaped from the elder-blossoms and there rang out the sharp report of + a rifle. There were two screams from the veranda. One white figure ran + into the house. The other, a little one with a gauzy wrap streaming + behind, came flying out into the moonlight—straight to Harkless. + There was a second report; the rifle-shot was answered by a revolver. + William Todd had risen up, apparently from nowhere, and, kneeling by the + pasture bars, fired at the flash of the rifle. + </p> + <p> + “Jump fer the shadder, Mr. Harkless,” he shouted; “he's in them elders,” + and then: “Fer God's sake, comeback!” + </p> + <p> + Empty-handed as he was, the editor dashed for the treacherous elder-bush + as fast as his long legs could carry him; but, before he had taken six + strides, a hand clutched his sleeve, and a girl's voice quavered from + close behind him: + </p> + <p> + “Don't run like that, Mr. Harkless; I can't keep up!” He wheeled about, + and confronted a vision, a dainty little figure about five feet high, a + flushed and lovely face, hair and draperies disarranged and flying. He + stamped his foot with rage. “Get back in the house!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't go,” she panted. “It's the only way to stop you.” + </p> + <p> + “Go back to the house!” he shouted, savagely. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come?” + </p> + <p> + “Fer God's sake,” cried William Todd, “come back! Keep out of the road.” + He was emptying his revolver at the clump of elder, the uproar of his + firing blasting the night. Some one screamed from the house: + </p> + <p> + “Helen! Helen!” + </p> + <p> + John seized the girl's wrists roughly; her gray eyes flashed into his + defiantly. “Will you go?” he roared. + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + He dropped her wrists, caught her up in his arms as if she had been a + kitten, and leaped into the shadow of the trees that leaned over the road + from the yard. The rifle rang out again, and the little ball whistled + venomously overhead. Harkless ran along the fence and turned in at the + gate. + </p> + <p> + A loose strand of the girl's hair blew across his cheek, and in the moon + her head shone with gold. She had light-brown hair and gray eyes and a + short upper lip like a curled rose-leaf. He set her down on the veranda + steps. Both of them laughed wildly. + </p> + <p> + “But you came with me!” she gasped triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “I always thought you were tall,” he answered; and there was afterward a + time when he had to agree that this was a somewhat vague reply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. JUNE + </h2> + <p> + Judge Briscoe smiled grimly and leaned on his shot-gun in the moonlight by + the veranda. He and William Todd had been trampling down the elder-bushes, + and returning to the house, found Minnie alone on the porch. “Safe?” he + said to his daughter, who turned an anxious face upon him. “They'll be + safe enough now, and in our garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I oughtn't to have let them go,” she returned, nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! They're all right; that scalawag's half-way to Six-Cross-Roads by + this time, isn't he, William?” + </p> + <p> + “He tuck up the fence like a scared rabbit,” Mr. Todd responded, looking + into his hat to avoid meeting the eyes of the lady. “I didn't have no call + to toller, and he knowed how to run, I reckon. Time Mr. Harkless come out + the yard again, he was near out o' sight, and we see him take across the + road to the wedge-woods, near half-a-mile up. Somebody else with him then—looked + like a kid. Must 'a' cut acrost the field to join him. They're fur enough + towards home by this.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Miss Helen shake hands with you four or five times?” asked Briscoe, + chuckling. + </p> + <p> + “No. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Harkless did. My hand aches, and I guess William's does, too; he + nearly shook our arms off when we told him he'd been a fool. Seemed to do + him good. I told him he ought to hire somebody to take a shot at him every + morning before breakfast—not that it's any joking matter,” the old + gentleman finished, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I should say not,” said William, with a deep frown and a jerk of his head + toward the rear of the house. “<i>He</i> jokes about it enough. Wouldn't + even promise to carry a gun after this. Said he wouldn't know how to use + it. Never shot one off since he was a boy, on the Fourth of July. This is + the third time he's be'n shot at this year, but he says the others was at + a—a—what'd he call it?” + </p> + <p> + “'A merely complimentary range,'” Briscoe supplied. He handed William a + cigar and bit the end off another himself. “Minnie, you better go in the + house and read, I expect—unless you want to go down the creek and + join those folks.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Me</i>!” she responded. “I know when to stay away, I guess. Do go and + put that terrible gun up.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Briscoe, lighting his cigar, deliberately. “It's all safe; + there's no question of that; but maybe William and I better go out and + take a smoke in the orchard as long as they stay down at the creek.” + </p> + <p> + In the garden, shafts of white light pierced the bordering trees and fell + where June roses lifted their heads to breathe the mild night breeze, and + here, through summer spells, the editor of the “Herald” and the lady who + had run to him at the pasture bars strolled down a path trembling with + shadows to where the shallow creek tinkled over the pebbles. They walked + slowly, with an air of being well-accustomed friends and comrades, and for + some reason it did not strike either of them as unnatural or + extraordinary. They came to a bench on the bank, and he made a great fuss + dusting the seat for her with his black slouch hat. Then he regretted the + hat—it was a shabby old hat of a Carlow County fashion. + </p> + <p> + It was a long bench, and he seated himself rather remotely toward the end + opposite her, suddenly realizing that he had walked very close to her, + coming down the narrow garden path. Neither knew that neither had spoken + since they left the veranda; and it had taken them a long time to come + through the little orchard and the garden. She rested her chin on her + hand, leaning forward and looking steadily at the creek. Her laughter had + quite gone; her attitude seemed a little wistful and a little sad. He + noted that her hair curled over her brow in a way he had not pictured in + the lady of his dreams; this was so much lovelier. He did not care for + tall girls; he had not cared for them for almost half an hour. It was so + much more beautiful to be dainty and small and piquant. He had no notion + that he was sighing in a way that would have put a furnace to shame, but + he turned his eyes from her because he feared that if he looked longer he + might blurt out some speech about her beauty. His glance rested on the + bank; but its diameter included the edge of her white skirt and the tip of + a little, white, high-heeled slipper that peeped out beneath it; and he + had to look away from that, too, to keep from telling her that he meant to + advocate a law compelling all women to wear crisp, white gowns and white + slippers on moonlight nights. + </p> + <p> + She picked a long spear of grass from the turf before her, twisted it + absently in her fingers, then turned to him slowly. Her lips parted as if + to speak. Then she turned away again. The action was so odd, and somehow, + as she did it, so adorable, and the preserved silence was such a bond + between them, that for his life he could not have helped moving half-way + up the bench toward her. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked; and he spoke in a whisper he might have used at + the bedside of a dying friend. He would not have laughed if he had known + he did so. She twisted the spear of grass into a little ball and threw it + at a stone in the water before she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Mr. Harkless, you and I haven't 'met,' have we? Didn't we + forget to be presented to each other?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. Miss Sherwood. In the perturbation of comedy I + forgot.” + </p> + <p> + “It was melodrama, wasn't it?” she said. He laughed, but she shook her + head. + </p> + <p> + “Comedy,” he answered, “except your part of it, which you shouldn't have + done. It was not arranged in honor of 'visiting ladies.' But you mustn't + think me a comedian. Truly, I didn't plan it. My friend from + Six-Cross-Roads must be given the credit of devising the scene-though you + divined it!” + </p> + <p> + “It was a little too picturesque, I think. I know about Six-Cross-Roads. + Please tell me what you mean to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. What should I?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you will keep on letting them shoot at you, until they—until + you—” She struck the bench angrily with her hand. + </p> + <p> + “There's no summer theatre in Six-Cross-Roads; there's not even a church. + Why shouldn't they?” he asked gravely. “During the long and tedious + evenings it cheers the poor Cross-Reader's soul to drop over here and take + a shot at me. It whiles away dull care for him, and he has the additional + exercise of running all the way home.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she cried indignantly, “they told me you always answered like this!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see the Cross-Roads efforts have proved so purely hygienic for + me. As a patriot I have sometimes felt extreme mortification that such bad + marksmanship should exist in the county, but I console myself with the + thought that their best shots are unhappily in the penitentiary.” + </p> + <p> + “There are many left. Can't you understand that they will organize again + and come in a body, as they did before you broke them up? And then, if + they come on a night when they know you are wandering out of town——” + </p> + <p> + “You have not the advantage of an intimate study of the most exclusive + people of the Cross-Roads, Miss Sherwood. There are about twenty gentlemen + who remain in that neighborhood while their relatives sojourn under + discipline. If you had the entree over there, you would understand that + these twenty could not gather themselves into a company and march the + seven miles without physical debate in the ranks. They are not precisely + amiable people, even amongst themselves. They would quarrel and shoot each + other to pieces long before they got here.” + </p> + <p> + “But they worked in a company once.” + </p> + <p> + “Never for seven miles. Four miles was their radius. Five would see them + all dead.” + </p> + <p> + She struck the bench again. “Oh, you laugh at me! You make a joke of your + own life and death, and laugh at everything! Have five years of Plattville + taught you to do that?” + </p> + <p> + “I laugh only at taking the poor Cross-Roaders too seriously. I don't + laugh at your running into fire to help a fellow-mortal.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew there wasn't any risk. I knew he had to stop to load before he + shot again.” + </p> + <p> + “He did shoot again. If I had known you before to-night—I—” + His tone changed and he spoke gravely. “I am at your feet in worship of + your philanthropy. It's so much finer to risk your life for a stranger + than for a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “That is rather a man's point of view, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “You risked yours for a man you had never seen before.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I saw you at the lecture; I heard you introduce the Honorable Mr. + Halloway.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I don't understand your wishing to save me.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled unwillingly, and turned her gray eyes upon him with troubled + sunniness, and, under the kindness of her regard, he set a watch upon his + lips, though he knew it might not avail him. He had driveled along + respectably so far, he thought, but he had the sentimental longings of + years, starved of expression, culminating in his heart. She continued to + look at him, wistfully, searchingly, gently. Then her eyes traveled over + his big frame from his shoes (a patch of moonlight fell on them; they were + dusty; he drew them under the bench with a shudder) to his broad shoulders + (he shook the stoop out of them). She stretched her small hands toward him + in contrast, and broke into the most delicious low laughter in the world. + At this sound he knew the watch on his lips was worthless. It was a + question of minutes till he should present himself to her eyes as a + sentimental and susceptible imbecile. He knew it. He was in wild spirits. + </p> + <p> + “Could you realize that one of your dangers might be a shaking?” she + cried. “Is your seriousness a lost art?” Her laughter ceased suddenly. + “Ah, no. I understand. Thiers said the French laugh always, in order not + to weep. I haven't lived here five years. I should laugh too, if I were + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at the moon,” he responded. “We Plattvillains own that with the best + of metropolitans, and, for my part, I see more of it here. You do not + appreciate us. We have large landscapes in the heart of the city, and what + other capital possesses advantages like that? Next winter the railway + station is to have a new stove for the waiting-room. Heaven itself is one + of our suburbs—it is so close that all one has to do is to die. You + insist upon my being French, you see, and I know you are fond of nonsense. + How did you happen to put 'The Walrus and the Carpenter' at the bottom of + a page of Fisbee's notes?” + </p> + <p> + “Was it? How were you sure it was I?” + </p> + <p> + “In Carlow County!” + </p> + <p> + “He might have written it himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Fisbee has never in his life read anything lighter than cuneiform + inscriptions.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Briscoe——” + </p> + <p> + “She doesn't read Lewis Carroll; and it was not her hand. What made you + write it on Fisbee's manuscript?” + </p> + <p> + “He was with us this afternoon, and I teased him a little about your + heading. 'Business and the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb,' isn't it? And + he said it had always troubled him, but that you thought it good. So do I. + He asked me if I could think of anything that you might like better, to + put in place of it, and I wrote, 'The time has come,' because it was the + only thing I could think of that was as appropriate and as fetching as + your headlines. He was perfectly dear about it. He was so serious; he said + he feared it wouldn't be acceptable. I didn't notice that the paper he + handed me to write on was part of his notes, nor did he, I think. + Afterward, he put it back in his pocket. It wasn't a message.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so sure he did not notice. He is very wise. Do you know, somehow, + I have the impression that the old fellow wanted me to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “How dear and good of him!” She spoke earnestly, and her face was suffused + with a warm light. There was no doubt about her meaning what she said. + </p> + <p> + “It was,” John answered, unsteadily. “He knew how great was my need of a + few moments' companionableness with—with——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she interrupted. “I meant dear and good to me, because I think he + was thinking of me, and it was for my sake he wanted us to meet.” + </p> + <p> + It would have been hard to convince a woman, if she had overheard this + speech, that Miss Sherwood's humility was not the calculated affectation + of a coquette. Sometimes a man's unsuspicion is wiser, and Harkless knew + that she was not flirting with him. In addition, he was not a fatuous man; + he did not extend the implication of her words nearly so far as she would + have had him. + </p> + <p> + “But I had met you,” said he, “long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” she cried, and her eyes danced. “You actually remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; do you?” he answered. “I stood in Jones's field and heard you + singing, and I remembered. It was a long time since I had heard you sing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'I was a ruffler of Flanders, + And fought for a florin's hire. + You were the dame of my captain + And sang to my heart's desire.' +</pre> + <p> + “But that is the balladist's notion. The truth is that you were a lady at + the Court of Clovis, and I was a heathen captive. I heard you sing a + Christian hymn—and asked for baptism.” By a great effort he managed + to look as if he did not mean it. + </p> + <p> + But she did not seem over-pleased with his fancy, for, the surprise fading + from her face, “Oh, that was the way you remembered!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it was not that way alone. You won't despise me for being mawkish + to-night?” he asked. “I haven't had the chance for so long.” + </p> + <p> + The night air wrapped them warmly, and the balm of the little breezes that + stirred the foliage around them was the smell of damask roses from the + garden. The creek tinkled over the pebbles at their feet, and a drowsy + bird, half-wakened by the moon, crooned languorously in the sycamores. The + girl looked out at the flashing water through downcast lashes. “Is it + because it is so transient that beauty is pathetic?” she said; “because we + can never come back to it in quite the same way? I am a sentimental girl. + If you are born so, it is never entirely teased out of you, is it? + Besides, to-night is all a dream. It isn't real, you know. You couldn't be + mawkish.” + </p> + <p> + Her tone was gentle as a caress, and it made him tingle to his + finger-tips. “How do you know?” he asked in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I just know. Do you think I'm very 'bold and forward'?” she said, + dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “It was your song I wanted to be sentimental about. I am like one 'who + through long days of toil'—only that doesn't quite apply—'and + nights devoid of ease'—but I can't claim that one doesn't sleep well + here; it is Plattville's specialty—like one who + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Still heard in his soul the music + Of wonderful melodies.'” + </pre> + <p> + “Those blessed old lines!” she said. “Once a thing is music or poetry, all + the hand-organs and elocutionists in the world cannot ruin it, can they? + Yes; to live here, out of the world, giving up the world, doing good and + working for others, working for a community as you do——” + </p> + <p> + “I am not quite shameless,” he interrupted, smilingly. “I was given a life + sentence for incompetency, and I've served five years of it, which have + been made much happier than my deserts.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she persisted, “that is your way of talking of yourself; I know you + would always 'run yourself down,' if one paid any attention to it. But to + give up the world, to drop out of it without regret, to come here and do + what you have done, and to live the life that must be so desperately dry + and dull for a man of your sort, and yet to have the kind of heart that + makes wonderful melodies sing in itself—oh!” she cried, “I say that + is fine!” + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand,” he returned, sadly, wishing, before her, to be + unmercifully just to himself. “I came here because I couldn't make a + living anywhere else. And the 'wonderful melodies'—I have known you + only one evening—and the melodies—” He rose to his feet and + took a few steps toward the garden. “Come,” he said. “Let me take you + back. Let us go before I—” he finished with a helpless laugh. + </p> + <p> + She stood by the bench, one hand resting on it; she stood all in the + tremulant shadow. She moved one step toward him, and a single, long sliver + of light pierced the sycamores and fell upon her head. He gasped. + </p> + <p> + “What was it about the melodies?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! I don't know how to thank you for this evening that you have + given me. I—I suppose you are leaving to-morrow. No one ever stays + here.—I——” + </p> + <p> + “What about the melodies?” + </p> + <p> + He gave it up. “The moon makes people insane!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “If that is true,” she returned, “then you need not be more afraid than I, + because 'people' is plural. What were you saying about——” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>had</i> heard them—in my heart. When I heard your voice + to-night, I knew that it was you who sang them there—had been + singing them for me always.” + </p> + <p> + “So!” she cried, gaily. “All that debate about a pretty speech!” Then, + sinking before him in a deep courtesy, “I am beholden to you,” she said. + “Do you think that no man ever made a little flattery for me before + to-night?” + </p> + <p> + At the edge of the orchard, where they could keep an unseen watch on the + garden and the bank of the creek. Judge Briscoe and Mr. Todd were + ensconced under an apple-tree, the former still armed with his shot-gun. + When the two young people got up from their bench, the two men rose + hastily, and then sauntered slowly toward them. When they met, Harkless + shook each of them cordially by the hand, without seeming to know it. + </p> + <p> + “We were coming to look for you,” explained the judge. “William was afraid + to go home alone; thought some one might take him for Mr. Harkless and + shoot him before he got into town. Can you come out with young Willetts in + the morning, Harkless,” he went on, “and go with the ladies to see the + parade? And Minnie wants you to stay to dinner and go to the show with + them in the afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Harkless seized his hand and shook it fervently, and then laughed + heartily, as he accepted the invitation. + </p> + <p> + At the gate, Miss Sherwood extended her hand to him and said politely, and + with some flavor of mockery: “Good-night, Mr. Harkless. I do not leave + to-morrow. I am very glad to have met you.” + </p> + <p> + “We are going to keep her all summer if we can,” said Minnie, weaving her + arm about her friend's waist. “You'll come in the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Miss Sherwood,” he returned, hilariously. “It has been such a + pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for saving my life. It was very + good of you indeed. Yes, in the morning. Good-night—good-night.” He + shook hands with them all again, including Mr. Todd, who was going with + him. + </p> + <p> + He laughed most of the way home, and Mr. Todd walked at his side in + amazement. The Herald Building was a decrepit frame structure on Main + Street; it had once been a small warehouse and was now sadly in need of + paint. Closely adjoining it, in a large, blank-looking yard, stood a low + brick cottage, over which the second story of the warehouse leaned in an + effect of tipsy affection that had reminded Harkless, when he first saw + it, of an old Sunday-school book wood-cut of an inebriated parent under + convoy of a devoted child. The title to these two buildings and the blank + yard had been included in the purchase of the “Herald”; and the cottage + was Harkless's home. + </p> + <p> + There was a light burning upstairs in the “Herald” office. From the street + a broad, tumble-down stairway ran up on the outside of the building to the + second floor, and at the stairway railing John turned and shook his + companion warmly by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, William,” he said. “It was plucky of you to join in that + muss, to-night. I shan't forget it.” + </p> + <p> + “I jest happened to come along,” replied the other, drowsily; then, with a + portentous yawn, he asked: “Ain't ye goin' to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “No; Parker wouldn't allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed William, with another yawn, which bade fair to expose the + veritable soul of him, “I d'know how ye stand it. It's closte on eleven + o'clock. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + John went up the steps, singing aloud: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For to-night we'll merry, merry be, + For to-night we'll merry, merry be,” + </pre> + <p> + and stopped on the sagging platform at the top of the stairs and gave the + moon good-night with a wave of the hand and friendly laughter. At that it + suddenly struck him that he was twenty-nine years of age; that he had + laughed a great deal that evening; that he had laughed and laughed over + things not in the least humorous, like an excited schoolboy making his + first formal call; that he had shaken hands with Miss Briscoe when he left + her, as if he should never see her again; that he had taken Miss + Sherwood's hand twice in one very temporary parting; that he had shaken + the judge's hand five times, and William's four! + </p> + <p> + “Idiot!” he cried. “What has happened to me?” Then he shook his fist at + the moon and went in to work—he thought. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. MORNING: “SOME IN RAGS AND SOME IN TAGS AND SOME IN VELVET + </h2> + <p> + GOWNS” + </p> + <p> + The bright sun of circus-day shone into Harkless's window, and he awoke to + find himself smiling. For a little while he lay content, drowsily + wondering why he smiled, only knowing that there was something new. It was + thus, as a boy, he had wakened on his birthday mornings, or on Christmas, + or on the Fourth of July, drifting happily out of pleasant dreams into the + consciousness of long-awaited delights that had come true, yet lying only + half-awake in a cheerful borderland, leaving happiness undefined. + </p> + <p> + The morning breeze was fluttering at his window blind; a honeysuckle vine + tapped lightly on the pane. Birds were trilling, warbling, whistling. From + the street came the rumbling of wagons, merry cries of greeting, and the + barking of dogs. What was it made him feel so young and strong and + light-hearted? The breeze brought him the smell of June roses, fresh and + sweet with dew, and then he knew why he had come smiling from his dreams. + He would go a holiday-making. With that he leaped out of bed, and shouted + loudly: “Zen! Hello, Xenophon!” + </p> + <p> + In answer, an ancient, very black darky put his head in at the door, his + warped and wrinkled visage showing under his grizzled hair like charred + paper in a fall of pine ashes. He said: “Good-mawn', suh. Yessuh. Hit's + done pump' full. Good-mawn', suh.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, the colored man, seated on the front steps of the + cottage, heard a mighty splashing within, while the rafters rang with + stentorian song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + To tie up my bonny brown hair + + “Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Johnnie's so long at the Fair!” + </pre> + <p> + At the sound of this complaint, delivered in a manly voice, the listener's + jaw dropped, and his mouth opened and stayed open. “<i>Him!</i>” he + muttered, faintly. “<i>Singin'</i>!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Well, the old Triangle knew the music of our tread; + How the peaceful Seminole would tremble in his bed!” + </pre> + <p> + sang the editor. “I dunno huccome it,” exclaimed the old man, “an' dat + ain' hyer ner dar; but, bless Gawd! de young man' happy!” A thought struck + him suddenly, and he scratched his head. “Maybe he goin' away,” he said, + querulously. “What become o' ole Zen?” The splashing ceased, but not the + voice, which struck into a noble marching chorus. “Oh, my Lawd,” said the + colored man, “I pray you listen at dat!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Soldiers marching up the street, + They keep the time; + They look sublime! + Hear them play Die Wacht am Rhein! + They call them Schneider's Band. + Tra la la la, la!” + </pre> + <p> + The length of Main Street and all the Square resounded with the rattle of + vehicles of every kind. Since earliest dawn they had been pouring into the + village, a long procession on every country road. There were great red and + blue farm wagons, drawn by splendid Clydesdales; the elders of the family + on the front seat and on boards laid from side to side in front, or on + chairs placed close behind, while, in the deep beds back of these, + children tumbled in the straw, or peeped over the sides, rosy-cheeked and + laughing, eyes alight with blissful anticipations. There were more + pretentious two-seated cut-unders and stout buckboards, loaded down with + merrymakers, four on a seat meant for two; there were rattle-trap phaetons + and comfortable carry-alls drawn by steady spans; and, now and then, mule + teams bringing happy negroes, ready to squander all on the first Georgia + watermelons and cider. Every vehicle contained heaping baskets of good + things to eat (the previous night had been a woeful Bartholomew for Carlow + chickens) and underneath, where the dogs paced faithfully, swung buckets + and fodder for the horses, while colts innumerable trotted dose to the + maternal flanks, viewing the world with their big, new eyes in frisky + surprise. + </p> + <p> + Here and there the trim side-bar buggy of some prosperous farmer's son, + escorting his sweetheart, flashed along the road, the young mare stepping + out in pride of blood to pass the line of wagons, the youth who held the + reins, resplendent in Sunday best and even better, his scorched brown face + glowing with a fine belief in the superiority of both his steed and his + lady; the latter beaming out upon life and rejoicing in the light-blue + ribbons on her hat, the light-blue ribbon around her waist, the + light-blue, silk half-mittens on her hands, and the beautiful red coral + necklace about her neck and the red coral buttons that fastened her gown + in the back. + </p> + <p> + The air was full of exhilaration; everybody was laughing and shouting and + calling greetings; for Carlow County was turning out, and from far and + near the country people came; nay, from over the county line, clouds of + dust rising from every thoroughfare and highway, and sweeping into town to + herald their coming. + </p> + <p> + Dibb Zane, the “sprinkling contractor,” had been at work with the town + water-cart since the morning stars were bright, but he might as well have + watered the streets with his tears, which, indeed, when the farmers began + to come in, bringing their cyclones of dust, he drew nigh unto, after a + spell of profanity as futile as his cart. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Tief wie das Meer soll deine Liebe sein,” + </pre> + <p> + hummed the editor in the cottage. His song had taken on a reflective tone + as that of one who cons a problem, or musically ponders which card to + play. He was kneeling before an old trunk in his bedchamber. From one + compartment he took a neatly folded pair of duck trousers and a light-gray + tweed coat; from another, a straw hat with a ribbon of bright colors. They + had lain in the trunk a long time undisturbed; and he examined them + musingly. He shook the coat and brushed it; then he laid the garments upon + his bed, and proceeded to shave himself carefully, after which he donned + the white trousers, the gray coat, and, rummaging in the trunk again, + found a gay pink cravat, which he fastened about his tall collar (also a + resurrection from the trunk) with a pearl pin. After that he had a long, + solemn time arranging his hair with a pair of brushes. When at last he was + suited, and his dressing completed, he sallied forth to breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Xenophon stared after him as he went out of the gate whistling heartily. + The old darky lifted his hands, palms outward. + </p> + <p> + “Lan' name, who dat!” he exclaimed aloud. “Who dat in dem pan-jingeries? + He jine' de circus?” His hands fell upon his knees, and he got to his feet + pneumatically, shaking his head with foreboding. “Honey, honey, hit' baid + luck, baid luck sing 'fo' breakfus. Trouble 'fo' de day be done. Trouble, + honey, gre't trouble. Baid luck, baid luck!” + </p> + <p> + Along the Square the passing of the editor in his cool equipment evoked + some gasps of astonishment; and Mr. Tibbs and his sister rushed from the + postoffice to stare after him. + </p> + <p> + “He looks just beautiful, Solomon,” said Miss Tibbs. + </p> + <p> + “But what's the name for them kind of clothes?” inquired her brother. + “'Seems to me there's a special way of callin' 'em. 'Seems as if I see a + picture of 'em, somewheres. Wasn't it on the cover of that there + long-tennis box we bought and put in the window, and the country people + thought it was a seining outfit?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a game, the catalogue said,” observed Miss Selina. “Wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a mighty pore investment,” the postmaster answered. + </p> + <p> + As Harkless approached the hotel, a decrepit old man, in a vast straw hat + and a linen duster much too large for him, came haltingly forward to meet + him. He was Widow-Woman Wimby's husband. And, as did every one else, he + spoke of his wife by the name of her former martial companion. + </p> + <p> + “Be'n a-lookin' fer you, Mr. Harkless,” he said in a shaking spindle of a + voice, as plaintive as his pale little eyes. “Mother Wimby, she sent some + roses to ye. Cynthy's fixin' 'em on yer table. I'm well as ever I am; but + her, she's too complaining to come in fer show-day. This morning, early, + we see some the Cross-Roads folks pass the place towards town, an' she + sent me in to tell ye. Oh, I knowed ye'd laugh. Says she, 'He's too much + of a man to be skeered,' says she, 'these here tall, big men always 'low + nothin' on earth kin hurt 'em,' says she, 'but you tell him to be + keerful,' says she; an' I see Bill Skillett an' his brother on the Square + lessun a half-an-hour ago, 'th my own eyes. I won't keep ye from yer + breakfast.—Eph Watts is in there, eatin'. He's come back; but I + guess I don't need to warn ye agin' him. He seems peaceable enough. It's + the other folks you got to look out fer.” + </p> + <p> + He limped away. The editor waved his hand to him from the door, but the + old fellow shook his head, and made a warning, friendly gesture with his + arm. + </p> + <p> + Harkless usually ate his breakfast alone, as he was the latest riser in + Plattville. (There were days in the winter when he did not reach the hotel + until eight o'clock.) This morning he found a bunch of white roses, still + wet with dew and so fragrant that the whole room was fresh and sweet with + their odor, prettily arranged in a bowl on the table, and, at his plate, + the largest of all with a pin through the stem. He looked up, smilingly, + and nodded at the red-haired girl. “Thank you, Charmion,” he said. “That's + very pretty.” + </p> + <p> + She turned even redder than she always was, and answered nothing, + vigorously darting her brush at an imaginary fly on the cloth. After + several minutes she said abruptly, “You're welcome.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, finally broken by a long, gasping sigh. Astonished, + he looked at the girl. Her eyes were set unfathomably upon his pink tie; + the wand had dropped from her nerveless hand, and she stood rapt and + immovable. She started violently from her trance. “Ain't you goin' to + finish your coffee?” she asked, plying her instrument again, and, bending + over him slightly, whispered: “Say, Eph Watts is over there behind you.” + </p> + <p> + At a table in a far corner of the room a large gentleman in a brown frock + coat was quietly eating his breakfast and reading the “Herald.” He was of + an ornate presence, though entirely neat. A sumptuous expanse of linen + exhibited itself between the lapels of his low-cut waistcoat, and an inch + of bediamonded breastpin glittered there, like an ice-ledge on a snowy + mountain side. He had a steady, blue eye and a dissipated, iron-gray + mustache. This personage was Mr. Ephraim Watts, who, following a calling + more fashionable in the eighteenth century than in the latter decades of + the nineteenth, had shaken the dust of Carlow from his feet some three + years previously, at the strong request of the authorities. The “Herald” + had been particularly insistent upon his deportation, and, in the local + phrase, Harkless had “run him out of town.” Perhaps it was because the + “Herald's” opposition (as the editor explained at the time) had been + merely moral and impersonal, and the editor had always confessed to a + liking for the unprofessional qualities of Mr. Watts, that there was but + slight embarrassment when the two gentlemen met to-day. His breakfast + finished, Harkless went over to the other and extended his hand. Cynthia + held her breath and clutched the back of a chair. However, Mr. Watts made + no motion toward his well-known hip pocket. Instead, he rose, flushed + slightly, and accepted the hand offered him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to see you, Mr. Watts,” said the journalist, cordially. “Also, + if you are running with the circus and calculate on doing business here + to-day, I'll have to see that you are fired out of town before noon. How + are you? You're looking extremely well.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harkless,” answered Watts, “I cherish no hard feelings, and I never + said but what you done exactly right when I left, three years ago. No, + sir; I'm not here in a professional way at all, and I don't want to be + molested. I've connected myself with an oil company, and I'm down here to + look over the ground. It beats poker and fan-tan hollow, though there + ain't as many chances in favor of the dealer, and in oil it's the farmer + that gets the rake-off. I've come back, but in an enterprising spirit this + time, to open up a new field and shed light and money in Carlow. They told + me never to show my face here again, but if you say I stay, I guess I + stay. I always was sure there was oil in the county, and I want to prove + it for everybody's benefit. Is it all right?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” laughed the young man, shaking the gambler's hand again, + “it is all right. I have always been sorry I had to act against you. + Everything is all right! Stay and bore to Corea if you like. Did ever you + see such glorious weather?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll let you in on some shares,” Watts called after him as he turned + away. He nodded in reply and was leaving the room when Cynthia detained + him by a flourish of the fly-brush. “Say,” she said,—she always + called him “Say”—“You've forgot your flower.” + </p> + <p> + He came back, and thanked her. “Will you pin it on for me, Charmion?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what call you got to speak to me out of my name,” she + responded, looking at the floor moodily. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked, surprised. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why you want to make fun of me.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Cynthia,” he said gravely. “I didn't mean to do that. + I haven't been considerate. I didn't think you'd be displeased. I'm very + sorry. Won't you pin it on my coat?” + </p> + <p> + Her face was lifted in grateful pleasure, and she began to pin the rose to + his lapel. Her hands were large and red and trembled. She dropped the + flower, and, saying huskily, “I don't know as I could do it right,” seized + violently upon a pile of dishes and hurried from the room. + </p> + <p> + Harkless rescued the rose, pinned it on his coat himself, and, observing + internally, for the hundredth time, that the red-haired waitress was the + queerest creature in the village, set forth gaily upon his holiday. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the brick house on the pike he discovered a gentleman sunk + in an easy and contemplative attitude in a big chair behind the veranda + railing. At the click of the gate the lounger rose and disclosed the + stalwart figure and brown, smiling, handsome face of Mr. Lige Willetts, an + habitual devotee of Minnie Briscoe, and the most eligible bachelor of + Carlow. “The ladies will be down right off,” he said, greeting the + editor's finery with a perceptible agitation and the editor himself with a + friendly shake of the hand. “Mildy says to wait out here.” + </p> + <p> + But immediately there was a faint rustling within the house: the swish of + draperies on the stairs, a delicious whispering when light feet descend, + tapping, to hearts that beat an answer, the telegraphic message, “We come! + We come! We are near! We are near!” Lige Willetts stared at Harkless. He + had never thought the latter good-looking until he saw him step to the + door to take Miss Sherwood's hand and say in a strange, low, tense voice, + “Good-morning,” as if he were announcing, at the least: “Every one in the + world except us two, died last night. It is a solemn thing, but I am very + happy.” + </p> + <p> + They walked, Minnie and Mr. Willetts a little distance in front of the + others. Harkless could not have told, afterward, whether they rode, or + walked, or floated on an air-ship to the court-house. All he knew + distinctly was that a divinity in a pink shirt waist, and a hat that was + woven of gauzy cloud by mocking fairies to make him stoop hideously to see + under it, dwelt for the time on earth and was at his side, dazzling him in + the morning sunshine. Last night the moon had lent her a silvery glamour; + she had something of the ethereal whiteness of night-dews in that watery + light, a nymph to laugh from a sparkling fountain, at the moon or, as he + thought, remembering her courtesy for his pretty speech, perhaps a little + lady of King Louis's court, wandering down the years from Fontainebleau + and appearing to clumsy mortals sometimes, of a June night when the moon + was in their heads. + </p> + <p> + But to-day she was of the clearest color, a pretty girl, whose gray eyes + twinkled to his in gay companionship. He marked how the sunshine was spun + into the fair shadows of her hair and seemed itself to catch a lustre, + rather than to impart it, and the light of the June day drifted through + the gauzy hat, touching her face with a delicate and tender flush that + came and went like the vibrating pink of early dawn. She had the divinest + straight nose, tip-tilted the faintest, most alluring trifle, and a dimple + cleft her chin, “the deadliest maelstrom in the world!” He thrilled + through and through. He had been only vaguely conscious of the dimple in + the night. It was not until he saw her by daylight that he really knew it + was there. + </p> + <p> + The village hummed with life before them. They walked through shimmering + airs, sweeter to breathe than nectar is to drink. She caught a butterfly, + basking on a jimson weed, and, before she let it go, held it out to him in + her hand. It was a white butterfly. He asked which was the butterfly. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” she said, tossing the captive craft above their heads and + watching the small sails catch the breeze; “And so you can make little + flatteries in the morning, too. It is another courtesy you should be + having from me, if it weren't for the dustiness of it. Wait till we come + to the board walk.” + </p> + <p> + She had some big, pink roses at her waist. “In the meantime,” he answered, + indicating these, “I know very well a lad that would be blithe to accept a + pretty token of any lady's high esteem.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have one, already, a very beautiful one.” She gave him a genial + up-and-down glance from head to foot, half quizzical, but so quick he + almost missed it. And then he was glad he had found the straw hat with the + youthful ribbon, and all his other festal vestures. “And a very becoming + flower a white rose is,” she continued, “though I am a bold girl to be + blarneying with a young gentleman I met no longer ago than last night.” + </p> + <p> + “But why shouldn't you blarney with a gentleman, when you began by saving + his life?” + </p> + <p> + “Or, rather, when the gentleman had the politeness to gallop about the + county with me tucked under his arm?” She stood still and laughed softly, + but consummately, and her eyes closed tight with the mirth of it. She had + taken one of the roses from her waist, and, as she stood, holding it by + the long stem, its petals lightly pressed her lips. + </p> + <p> + “You may have it—in exchange,” she said. He bent down to her, and + she began to fasten the pink rose in place of the white one on his coat. + She did not ask him, directly or indirectly, who had put the white one + there for him, because she knew by the way it was pinned that he had done + it himself. “Who is it that ev'ry morning brings me these lovely flow'rs?” + she burlesqued, as he bent over her. + </p> + <p> + “'Mr. Wimby,'” he returned. “I will point him out to you. You must see + him, and, also, Mr. Bodeffer, the oldest inhabitant—and crossest.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you present them to me?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they might talk to you and take some of my time with you away from + me.” Her eyes sparkled into his for the merest fraction of a second, and + she laughed half mockingly. Then she dropped his lapel and they proceeded. + She did not put the white rose in her belt, but carried it. + </p> + <p> + The Square was heaving with a jostling, goodnatured, happy, and constantly + increasing crowd that overflowed on Main Street in both directions; and + the good nature of this crowd was augmented in the ratio that its size + increased. The streets were a confusion of many colors, and eager faces + filled every window opening on Main Street or the Square. Since nine + o'clock all those of the courthouse had been occupied, and here most of + the damsels congregated to enjoy the spectacle of the parade, and their + swains attended, gallantly posting themselves at coignes of less vantage + behind the ladies. Some of the faces that peeped from the dark, old + court-house windows were pretty, and some of them were not pretty; but + nearly all of them were rosy-cheeked, and all were pleasant to see because + of the good cheer they showed. Some of the gallants affected the airy and + easy, entertaining the company with badinage and repartee; some were + openly bashful. Now and then one of the latter, after long deliberation, + constructed a laborious compliment for his inamorata, and, after advancing + and propounding half of it, again retired into himself, smit with a + blissful palsy. Nearly all of them conversed in tones that might have + indicated that they were separated from each other by an acre lot or two. + </p> + <p> + Here and there, along the sidewalk below, a father worked his way through + the throng, a licorice-bedaubed cherub on one arm, his coat (borne with + long enough) on the other; followed by a mother with the other children + hanging to her skirts and tagging exasperatingly behind, holding red and + blue toy balloons and delectable batons of spiral-striped peppermint in + tightly closed, sadly sticky fingers. + </p> + <p> + A thousand cries rent the air; the strolling mountebanks and gypsying + booth-merchants; the peanut vendors; the boys with palm-leaf fans for + sale; the candy sellers; the popcorn peddlers; the Italian with the toy + balloons that float like a cluster of colored bubbles above the heads of + the crowd, and the balloons that wail like a baby; the red-lemonade man, + shouting in the shrill voice that reaches everywhere and endures forever: + “Lemo! Lemo! Ice-cole lemo! Five cents, a nickel, a half-a-dime, the + twentiethpotofadollah! Lemo! Ice-cole lemo!”—all the vociferating + harbingers of the circus crying their wares. Timid youth, in shoes covered + with dust through which the morning polish but dimly shone, and + unalterably hooked by the arm to blushing maidens, bought recklessly of + peanuts, of candy, of popcorn, of all known sweetmeats, perchance; and + forced their way to the lemonade stands; and there, all shyly, silently + sipped the crimson-stained ambrosia. Everywhere the hawkers dinned, and + everywhere was heard the plaintive squawk of the toy balloon. + </p> + <p> + But over all rose the nasal cadence of the Cheap John, reeking oratory + from his big wagon on the corner: “Walk up, walk up, walk up, ladies and + gents! Here we are! Here we are! Make hay while we gather the moss. Walk + up, one and all. Here I put this solid gold ring, sumptuous and golden, + eighteen carats, eighteen golden carats of the priceless mother of metals, + toiled fer on the wild Pacific slope, eighteen garnteed, I put this golden + ring, rich and golden, in the package with the hangkacheef, the elegant + and blue-ruled note-paper, self-writing pens, pencil and penholder. Who + takes the lot? Who takes it, ladies and gents?” + </p> + <p> + His tongue curled about his words; he seemed to love them. “Fer a + quat-of-a-dollah! Don't turn away, young man—you feller in the green + necktie, there. We all see the young lady on your arm is a-langrishing fer + the golden ring and the package. Faint heart never won fair wummin'. There + you are, sir, and you'll never regret it. Go—and be happy! Now, + who's the next man to git solid with his girl fer a quat-of-a-dollah? Life + is a mysterus and unviolable shadder, my friends; who kin read its + orgeries? To-day we are here—but to-morrow we may be in jail. Only a + quat-of-a-dollah! We are Seventh-Day Adventists, ladies and gents, + a-givin' away our belongings in the awful face of Michael, fer a + quat-of-a-dollah. The same price fer each-an-devery individual, lady and + gent, man, wummin, wife and child, and happiness to one and all fer a + quat-of-a-dollah!” + </p> + <p> + Down the middle of the street, kept open between the waiting crowd, ran + barefoot boys, many of whom had not slept at home, but had kept vigil in + the night mists for the coming of the show, and, having seen the muffled + pageant arrive, swathed, and with no pomp and panoply, had returned to + town, rioting through jewelled cobwebs in the morning fields, happy in the + pride of knowledge of what went on behind the scenes. To-night, or + to-morrow, the runaways would face a woodshed reckoning with outraged + ancestry; but now they caracoled in the dust with no thought of the grim + deeds to be done upon them. + </p> + <p> + In the court-house yard, and so sinning in the very eye of the law, two + swarthy, shifty-looking gentlemen were operating (with some greasy walnut + shells and a pea) what the fanciful or unsophisticated might have been + pleased to call a game of chance; and the most intent spectator of the + group around them was Mr. James Bardlock, the Town Marshal. He was simply + and unofficially and earnestly interested. Thus the eye of Justice may not + be said to have winked upon the nefariousness now under its vision; it + gazed with strong curiosity, an itch to dabble, and (it must be admitted) + a growing hope of profit. The game was so direct and the player so sure. + Several countrymen had won small sums, and one, a charmingly rustic + stranger, with a peculiar accent (he said that him and his goil should now + have a smoot' old time off his winninks—though the lady was not + manifested), had won twenty-five dollars with no trouble at all. The two + operators seemed depressed, declaring the luck against them and the + Plattville people too brilliant at the game. + </p> + <p> + It was wonderful how the young couples worked their way arm-in-arm through + the thickest crowds, never separating. Even at the lemonade stands they + drank holding the glasses in their outer hands—such are the + sacrifices demanded by etiquette. But, observing the gracious outpouring + of fortune upon the rustic with the rare accent, a youth in a green tie + disengaged his arm—for the first time in two hours—from that + of a girl upon whose finger there shone a ring, sumptuous and golden, and, + conducting her to a corner of the yard, bade her remain there until he + returned. He had to speak to Hartly Bowlder, he explained. + </p> + <p> + Then he plunged, red-faced and excited, into the circle about the shell + manipulators, and offered, to lay a wager. + </p> + <p> + “Hol' on there, Hen Fentriss,” thickly objected a flushed young man beside + him, “iss my turn.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm first. Hartley,” returned the other. “You can hold yer bosses a + minute, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty fer each and all, chents,” interrupted one of the shell-men. + “Place yer spondulicks on de little ball. Wich is de next lucky one to win + our money? Chent bets four sixty-five he seen de little ball go under de + middle shell. Up she comes! Dis time <i>we</i> wins; Plattville can't win + <i>every</i> time. Who's de next chent?” + </p> + <p> + Fentriss edged slowly out of the circle, abashed, and with rapidly + whitening cheeks. He paused for a moment, outside, slowly realizing that + all his money had gone in one wild, blind whirl—the money he had + earned so hard and saved so hard, to make a holiday for his sweetheart and + himself. He stole one glance around the building to where a patient figure + waited for him. Then he fled down a side alley and soon was out upon the + country road, tramping soddenly homeward through the dust, his chin sunk + in his breast and his hands clenched tight at his sides. Now and then he + stopped and bitterly hurled a stone at a piping bird on a fence, or gay + Bob White in the fields. At noon the patient figure was still waiting in + the corner of the court-house yard, meekly twisting the golden ring upon + her finger. + </p> + <p> + But the flushed young man who had spoken thickly to her deserter drew an + envied roll of bankbills from his pocket and began to bet with tipsy + caution, while the circle about the gamblers watched with fervid interest, + especially Mr. Bardlock, Town Marshal. + </p> + <p> + From far up Main Street came the cry “She's a-comin'! She's a-comin'!” + and, this announcement of the parade proving only one of a dozen false + alarms, a thousand discussions took place over old-fashioned silver + timepieces as to when “she” was really due. Schofields' Henry was much + appealed to as an arbiter in these discussions, from a sense of his having + a good deal to do with time in a general sort of way; and thus Schofields' + came to be reminded that it was getting on toward ten o'clock, whereas, in + the excitement of festival, he had not yet struck nine. This, rushing + forthwith to do, he did; and, in the elation of the moment, seven or eight + besides. Miss Helen Sherwood was looking down on the mass of shifting + color from a second-story window—whither many an eye was upturned in + wonder—and she had the pleasure of seeing Schofields' emerge on the + steps beneath her, when the bells had done, and heard the cheers (led by + Mr. Martin) with which the laughing crowd greeted his appearance after the + performance of his feat. + </p> + <p> + She turned beamingly to Harkless. “What a family it is!” she laughed. + “Just one big, jolly family. I didn't know people could be like this until + I came to Plattville.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the word for it,” he answered, resting his hand on the casement + beside her. “I used to think it was desolate, but that was long ago.” He + leaned from the window to look down. In his dark cheek was a glow Carlow + folk had never seen there; and somehow he seemed less thin and tired; + indeed, he did not seem tired at all, by far the contrary; and he carried + himself upright (when he was not stooping to see under the hat), though + not as if he thought about it. “I believe they are the best people I + know,” he went on. “Perhaps it is because they have been so kind to me; + but they are kind to each other, too; kind, good people——” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she said, nodding—a flower on the gauzy hat set to + vibrating in a tantalizing way. “I know. There are fat women who rock and + rock on piazzas by the sea, and they speak of country people as the 'lower + classes.' How happy this big family is in not knowing it is the lower + classes!” “We haven't read Nordau down here,” said John. “Old Tom Martin's + favorite work is 'The Descent of Man.' Miss Tibbs admires Tupper, and + 'Beulah,' and some of us possess the works of E. P. Roe—and why + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what of it,” she returned, “since you escape Nordau? I think the + conversation we hear from the other windows is as amusing and quite as + loud as most of that I hear in Rouen during the winter; and Rouen, you + know, is just like any other big place nowadays, though I suppose there + are Philadelphians, for instance, who would be slow to believe a statement + like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but they are not all of Philadelphia——” He left the + sentence, smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “And yet somebody said, 'The further West I travel the more convinced I am + the Wise Men came from the East.'” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered. “'From' is the important word in that.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a girl from Southeast Cottonbridge, Massachusetts,” said Helen, + “who heard I was from Indiana and asked me if I didn't hate to live so far + away from things.” There was a pause, while she leaned out of the window + with her face aside from him. Then she remarked carelessly, “I met her at + Winter Harbor.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you go to Winter Harbor?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “We have gone there every summer until this one, for years. Have you + friends who go there?” + </p> + <p> + “I had—once. There was a classmate of mine from Rouen——” + </p> + <p> + “What was his name? Perhaps I know him.” She stole a glance at him. His + face had fallen into sad lines, and he looked like the man who had come up + the aisle with the Hon. Kedge Halloway. A few moments before he had seemed + another person entirely. + </p> + <p> + “He's forgotten me, I dare say. I haven't seen him for seven years; and + that's a long time, you know. Besides, he's 'out in the world,' where + remembering is harder. Here in Plattville we don't forget.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you ever at Winter Harbor?” + </p> + <p> + “I was—once. I spent a very happy day there long ago, when you must + have been a little girl. Were you there in—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she cried. “The procession is coming. Look at the crowd!” The + parade had seized a psychological moment. + </p> + <p> + There was a fanfare of trumpets in the east. Lines of people rushed for + the street, and, as one looked down on the straw hats and sunbonnets and + many kinds of finer head apparel, tossing forward, they seemed like surf + sweeping up the long beaches. + </p> + <p> + She was coming at last. The boys whooped in the middle of the street; some + tossed their arms to heaven, others expressed their emotion by + somersaults; those most deeply moved walked on their hands. In the + distance one saw, over the heads of the multitude, tossing banners and the + moving crests of triumphal cars, where “cohorts were shining in purple and + gold.” She <i>was</i> coming. After all the false alarms and + disappointments, she was coming! + </p> + <p> + There was another flourish of music. Immediately all the band gave sound, + and then, with blare of brass and the crash of drums, the glory of the + parade burst upon Plattville. Glory in the utmost! The resistless impetus + of the march-time music; the flare of royal banners, of pennons on the + breeze; the smiling of beautiful Court Ladies and great, silken Nobles; + the swaying of howdahs on camel and elephant, and the awesome shaking of + the earth beneath the elephant's feet, and the gleam of his small but + devastating eye (every one declared he looked the alarmed Mr. Snoddy full + in the face as he passed, and Mr. Snoddy felt not at all reassured when + Tom Martin severely hinted that it was with the threatening glance of a + rival); then the badinage of the clown, creaking along in his donkey cart; + the terrific recklessness of the spangled hero who was drawn by in a cage + with two striped tigers; the spirit of the prancing steeds that drew the + rumbling chariots, and the grace of the helmeted charioteers; the splendor + of the cars and the magnificence of the paintings with which they were + adorned; the ecstasy of all this glittering, shining, gorgeous pageantry + needed even more than walking on your hands to express. + </p> + <p> + Last of all came the tooting calliope, followed by swarms of boys as it + executed, “Wait till the clouds roll by, Jennie” with infinite dash and + gusto. + </p> + <p> + When it was gone, Miss Sherwood's intent gaze relaxed—she had been + looking on as eagerly as any child,—and she turned to speak to + Harkless and discovered that he was no longer in the room; instead, she + found Minnie and Mr. Willetts, whom he had summoned from another window. + </p> + <p> + “He was called away,” explained Lige. “He thought he'd be back before the + parade was over, and said you were enjoying it so much he didn't want to + speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Called away?” she said, inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + Minnie laughed. “Oh, everybody sends for Mr. Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a farmer, name of Bowlder,” added Mr. Willetts. “His son Hartley's + drinking again, and there ain't any one but Harkless can do anything with + him. You let him tackle a sick man to nurse, or a tipsy one to handle, and + I tell you,” Mr. Willetts went on with enthusiasm, “he is at home. It + beats me,—and lots of people don't think college does a man any + good! Why, the way he cured old Fis——” + </p> + <p> + “See!” cried Minnie, loudly, pointing out of the window. “Look down there. + Something's happened.” + </p> + <p> + There was a swirl in the crowd below. Men were running around a corner of + the court-house, and the women and children were harking after. They went + so fast, and there were so many of them, that immediately that whole + portion of the yard became a pushing, tugging, pulling, squirming jam of + people. + </p> + <p> + “It's on the other side,” said Lige. “We can see from the hall window. + Come quick, before these other folks fill it up.” + </p> + <p> + They followed him across the building, and looked down on an agitated + swarm of faces. Five men were standing on the entrance steps to the door + below, and the crowd was thickly massed beyond, leaving a little + semicircle clear about the steps. Those behind struggled to get closer, + and leaped in the air to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Harkless + stood alone on the top step, his hand resting on the shoulder of the pale + and contrite and sobered Hartley. In the clear space, Jim Bardlock was + standing with sheepishly hanging head, and between him and Harkless were + the two gamblers of the walnut shells. The journalist held in his hand the + implements of their profession. + </p> + <p> + “Give it all up,” he was saying in his steady voice. “You've taken + eighty-six dollars from this boy. Hand it over.” + </p> + <p> + The men began to edge closer to the crowd, giving little, swift, + desperate, searching looks from left to right, and right to left, moving + nervously about, like weasels in a trap. “Close up there tight,” said + Harkless, sharply. “Don't let them out.” + </p> + <p> + “W'y can't we git no square treatment here?” one of the gamblers whined; + but his eyes, blazing with rage, belied the plaintive passivity of his + tone. “We been running no skin. Wy d'ye say we gotter give up our own + money? You gotter prove it was a skin. We risked our money fair.” + </p> + <p> + “Prove it! Come up here, Eph Watts. Friends,” the editor turned to the + crowd, smiling, “friends, here's a man we ran out of town once, because he + knew too much about things of this sort. He's come back to us again and + he's here to stay. He'll give us an object-lesson on the shell game.” + </p> + <p> + “It's pretty simple,” remarked Mr. Watts. “The best way is to pick up the + ball with your second finger and the back part of your thumb as you + pretend to lay the shell down over it: this way.” He illustrated, and + showed several methods of manipulation, with professional sang-froid; and + as he made plain the easy swindle by which many had been duped that + morning, there arose an angry and threatening murmur. + </p> + <p> + “You all see,” said Harkless, raising his voice a little, “what a simple + cheat it is—and old as Pharaoh. Yet a lot of you stood around and + lost your own money, and stared like idiots, and let Hartley Bowlder lose + eighty-odd dollars on a shell racket, and not one of you lifted a hand. + How hard did you work for what these two cheap crooks took from you? Ah!” + he cried, “it is because you were greedy that they robbed you so easily. + You know it's true. It's when you want to get something for nothing that + the 'confidence men' steal the money you sweat for and make the farmer a + laughing stock. And <i>you</i>, Jim Bardlock, Town Marshal!—you, who + confess that you 'went in the game sixty cents' worth, yourself—” + His eyes were lit with wrath as he raised his accusing hand and levelled + it at the unhappy municipal. + </p> + <p> + The Town Marshal smiled uneasily and deprecatingly about him, and, meeting + only angry glances, hearing only words of condemnation, he passed his hand + unsteadily over his fat mustache, shifted from one leg to the other and + back again, looked up, looked down, and then, an amiable and + pleasure-loving man, beholding nothing but accusation and anger in heaven + and earth, and wishing nothing more than to sink into the waters under the + earth, but having no way of reaching them, finding his troubles quite + unbearable, and unable to meet the manifold eye of man, he sought relief + after the unsagacious fashion of a larger bird than he. His burly form + underwent a series of convulsions not unlike sobs, and he shut his eyes + tightly and held them so, presenting a picture of misery unequalled in the + memory of any spectator. Harkless's outstretched hand began to shake. + “You!” he tried to continue—“you, a man elected to——” + </p> + <p> + There came from the crowd the sound of a sad, high-keyed voice, drawling: + “That's a nice vest Jim's got on, but it ain't hardly the feathers fitten + for an ostrich, is it?” + </p> + <p> + The editor's gravity gave way; he broke into a ringing laugh and turned + again to the shell-men. “Give up the boy's money. Hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Step down here and git it,” said the one who had spoken. + </p> + <p> + There was a turbulent motion in the crowd, and a cry arose, “Run 'em out! + Ride 'em on a rail! Tar and feathers! Run 'em out o' town!” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't dilly-dally long if I were you,” said Harkless, and his advice + seemed good to the shell-men. A roll of bills, which he counted and turned + over to the elder Bowlder, was sullenly placed in his hand. The fellow who + had not yet spoken clutched the journalist's sleeve with his dirty hand. + </p> + <p> + “We hain't done wit' youse,” he said, hoarsely. “Don't belief it, not fer + a minute, see?” + </p> + <p> + The Town Marshal opened his eyes briskly, and placing a hand on each of + the gamblers, said: “I hereby do arrest your said persons, and declare you + my prisoners.” The cry rose again, louder: “Run 'em out! String 'em up! + Hang them! Hang them!” and a forward rush was made. + </p> + <p> + “This way, Jim. Be quick,” said Harkless, quietly, bending down and + jerking one of the gamblers half-way up the steps. “Get through the hall + to the other side and then run them to the lock-up. No one will stop you + that way. Watts and I will hold this door.” Bardlock hustled his prisoners + through the doorway, and the crowd pushed up the steps, while Harkless + struggled to keep the vestibule clear until Watts got the double doors + closed. “Stand back, here!” he cried; “it's all over. Don't be foolish. + The law is good enough for us. Stand back, will you!” + </p> + <p> + He was laughing a little, shoving them back with open hand and elbow, when + a small, compact group of men suddenly dashed up the steps together, and a + heavy stick swung out over their heads. A straw hat with a gay ribbon + sailed through the air. The journalist's long arms went out swiftly from + his body in several directions, the hands not open, but clenched and hard. + The next instant he and Mr. Watts stood alone on the steps, and a man with + a bleeding, blaspheming mouth dropped his stick and tried to lose himself + in the crowd. Mr. Watts was returning something he had not used to his + hip-pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Prophets of Israel!” exclaimed William Todd, ruefully, “it wasn't Eph + Watts's pistol. Did you see Mr. Harkless? I was up on them steps when he + begun. I don't believe he needs as much takin' care of as we think.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't it one of them Cross-Roads devils that knocked his hat off?” asked + Judd Bennett. “I thought I see Bob Skillett run up with a club.” + </p> + <p> + Harkless threw open the doors behind him; the hall was empty. “You may + come in now,” he said. “This isn't my court-house.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. GLAD AFTERNOON: THE GIRL BY THE BLUE TENT-POLE + </h2> + <p> + They walked slowly back along the pike toward the brick house. The + white-ruffed fennel reached up its dusty yellow heads to touch her skirts + as she passed, and then drooped, satisfied, against the purple iron-weed + at the roadside. In the noonday silence no cricket chirped nor locust + raised its lorn monotone; the tree shadows mottled the road with blue, and + the level fields seemed to pant out a dazzling breath, the transparent + “heat-waves” that danced above the low corn and green wheat. + </p> + <p> + He was stooping very much as they walked; he wanted to be told that he + could look at her for a thousand years. Her face was rarely and + exquisitely modelled, but, perhaps, just now the salient characteristic of + her beauty (for the salient characteristic seemed to be a different thing + at different times) was the coloring, a delicate glow under the white + skin, that bewitched him in its seeming a reflection of the rich + benediction of the noonday sun that blazed overhead. + </p> + <p> + Once he had thought the way to the Briscoe homestead rather a long walk; + but now the distance sped malignantly; and strolled they never so slow, it + was less than a “young bird's flutter from a wood.” With her acquiescence + he rolled a cigarette, and she began to hum lightly the air of a song, a + song of an ineffably gentle, slow movement. + </p> + <p> + That, and a reference of the morning, and, perhaps, the smell of his + tobacco mingling with the fragrance of her roses, awoke again the keen + reminiscence of the previous night within him. Clearly outlined before him + rose the high, green slopes and cool cliff-walls of the coast of Maine, + while his old self lazily watched the sharp little waves through + half-closed lids, the pale smoke of his cigarette blowing out under the + rail of a waxen deck where he lay cushioned. And again a woman pelted his + face with handfuls of rose-petals and cried: “Up lad and at 'em! Yonder is + Winter Harbor.” Again he sat in the oak-raftered Casino, breathless with + pleasure, and heard a young girl sing the “Angel's Serenade,” a young girl + who looked so bravely unconscious of the big, hushed crowd that listened, + looked so pure and bright and gentle and good, that he had spoken of her + as “Sir Galahad's little sister.” He recollected he had been much taken + with this child; but he had not thought of her from that time to this, he + supposed; had almost forgotten her. No! Her face suddenly stood out to his + view as though he saw her with his physical eye—a sweet and + vivacious child's face with light-brown hair and gray eyes and a short + upper lip. ... And the voice.... + </p> + <p> + He stopped short and struck his palms together. “You are Tom Meredith's + little cousin!” + </p> + <p> + “The Great Harkless!” she answered, and stretched out her hand to him. + </p> + <p> + “I remember you!” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it time?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but I never forgot you,” he cried. “I thought I had. I didn't know + who it was I was remembering. I thought it was fancy, and it was memory. I + never forgot your voice, singing—and I remembered your face too; + though I thought I didn't.” He drew a deep breath. “<i>That</i> was why——” + </p> + <p> + “Tom Meredith has not forgotten you,” she said, as he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind shaking hands once more?” he asked. She gave him her hand + again. “With all my heart. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm making a record at it. Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “They called me 'Sir Galahad's little sister' all one summer because the + Great John Harkless called me that. You danced with me in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” she said, shaking her head, “you were too busy being in love with + Mrs. Van Skuyt to remember a waltz with only me! I was allowed to meet you + as a reward for singing my very best, and you—you bowed with the + indulgence of a grandfather, and asked me to dance.” + </p> + <p> + “Like a grandfather? How young I was then! How time changes us!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid my conversation did not make a great impression upon you,” she + continued. + </p> + <p> + “But it did. I am remembering very fast. If you will wait a moment, I will + tell you some of the things you said.” + </p> + <p> + The girl laughed merrily. Whenever she laughed he realized that it was + becoming terribly difficult not to tell her how adorable she was. “I + wouldn't risk it, if I were you,” she warned him, “because I didn't speak + to you at all. I shut my lips tight and trembled all over every bit of the + time I was dancing with you. I did not sleep that night, because I was so + unhappy, wondering what the Great Harkless would think of me. I knew he + thought me unutterably stupid because I couldn't talk to him. I wanted to + send him word that I knew I had bored him. I couldn't bear for him not to + know that I knew I had. But he was not thinking of me in any way. He had + gone to sea again in a big boat, the ungrateful pirate, cruising with Mrs. + Van Skuyt.” + </p> + <p> + “How time <i>does</i> change us!” said John. “You are wrong, though; I did + think of you; I have al——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she interrupted, tossing her head in airy travesty of the stage + coquette, “you think so—I mean you say so—now. Away with you + and your blarneying!” + </p> + <p> + And so they went through the warm noontide, and little he cared for the + heat that wilted the fat mullein leaves and made the barefoot boy, who + passed by, skip gingerly through the burning dust with anguished mouth and + watery eye. Little he knew of the locust that suddenly whirred his mills + of shrillness in the maple-tree, and sounded so hot, hot, hot; or those + others that railed at the country quiet from the dim shade around the + brick house; or even the rain-crow that sat on the fence and swore to them + in the face of a sunny sky that they should see rain ere the day were + done. + </p> + <p> + Little the young man recked of what he ate at Judge Briscoe's good noon + dinner: chicken wing and young roas'n'-ear; hot rolls as light as the + fluff of a summer cloudlet; and honey and milk; and apple-butter flavored + like spices of Arabia; and fragrant, flaky cherry-pie; and cool, rich, + yellow cream. Lige Willetts was a lover, yet he said he asked no better + than to Just go on eating that cherry-pie till a sweet death overtook him; + but railroad sandwiches and restaurant chops might have been set before + Harkless for all the difference it would have made to him. + </p> + <p> + At no other time is a man's feeling of companionship with a woman so + strong as when he sits at table with her-not at a “decorated” and + becatered and bewaitered table, but at a homely, appetizing, wholesome + home table like old Judge Briscoe's. The very essence of the thing is + domesticity, and the implication is utter confidence and liking. There are + few greater dangers for a bachelor. An insinuating imp perches on his + shoulder, and, softly tickling the bachelor's ear with the feathers of an + arrow-shaft, whispers: “Pretty nice, isn't it, eh? Rather pleasant to have + that girl sitting there, don't you think? Enjoy having her notice your + butter-plate was empty? Think it exhilarating to hand her those rolls? + Looks nice, doesn't she? Says 'Thank you' rather prettily? Makes your + lonely breakfast seem mighty dull, doesn't it? How would you like to have + her pour your coffee for you to-morrow, my boy? How would it seem to have + such pleasant company all the rest of your life? Pretty cheerful, eh?” + </p> + <p> + When Miss Sherwood passed the editor the apple-butter, the casual, + matter-of-course way she did it entranced him in a strange, exquisite + wonderment. He did not set the dish down when she put it in his hand, but + held it straight out before him, just looking at it, until Mr. Willetts + had a dangerous choking fit, for which Minnie was very proud of Lige; no + one could have suspected that it was the veil of laughter. When Helen told + John he really must squeeze a lemon into his iced tea, he felt that his + one need in life was to catch her up in his arms and run away with her, + not anywhere in particular, but just run and run and run away. + </p> + <p> + After dinner they went out to the veranda and the gentlemen smoked. The + judge set his chair down on the ground, tilted back in it with his feet on + the steps, and blew a wavery domed city up in the air. He called it solid + comfort. He liked to sit out from under the porch roof, he said; he wanted + to see more of the sky. The others moved their chairs down to join him in + the celestial vision. There had blown across the heaven a feathery, thin + cloud or two, but save for these, there was nothing but glorious and + tender, brilliant blue. It seemed so clear and close one marvelled the + little church spire in the distance did not pierce it; yet, at the same + time, the eye ascended miles and miles into warm, shimmering ether. Far + away two buzzards swung slowly at anchor, half-way to the sun. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'O bright, translucent, cerulean hue, + Let my wide wings drift on in you,'” + </pre> + <p> + said Harkless, pointing them out to Helen. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to get a good deal of fun out of this kind of weather,” observed + Lige, as he wiped his brow and shifted his chair out of the sun. + </p> + <p> + “I expect you don't get such skies as this up in Rouen,” said the judge, + looking at the girl from between half-closed eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “It's the same Indiana sky, I think,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “I guess maybe in the city you don't see as much of it, or think as much + about it. Yes, they're the Indiana skies,” the old man went on. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Skies as blue + As the eyes of children when they smile at you.' +</pre> + <p> + “There aren't any others anywhere that ever seemed much like them to me. + They've been company for me all my life. I don't think there are any + others half as beautiful, and I know there aren't any as sociable. They + were always so.” He sighed gently, and Miss Sherwood fancied his wife must + have found the Indiana skies as lovely as he had, in the days of long ago. + “Seems to me they <i>are</i> the softest and bluest and kindest in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “I think they are,” said Helen, “and they are more beautiful than the + 'Italian skies,' though I doubt if many of us Hoosiers realize it; and—certainly + no one else does.” + </p> + <p> + The old man leaned over and patted her hand. Harkless gasped. “'Us + Hoosiers!'” chuckled the judge. “You're a great Hoosier, young lady! How + much of your life have you spent in the State? 'Us Hoosiers!'” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm going to be a good one,” she answered, gaily, “and if I'm good + enough, when I grow up maybe I'll be a great one.” + </p> + <p> + The buckboard had been brought around, and the four young people climbed + in, Harkless driving. Before they started, the judge, standing on the + horse-block in front of the gate, leaned over and patted Miss Sherwood's + hand again. Harkless gathered up the reins. + </p> + <p> + “You'll make a great Hoosier, all right,” said the old man, beaming upon + the girl. “You needn't worry about that, I guess, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + When he said “my dear,” Harkless spoke to the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” said the judge, still holding the girl's hand. “You'll make a + great Hoosier, some day; don't fret. You're already a very beautiful one.” + Then he bent his white head and kissed her, gallantly. John said: “Good + afternoon, judge”; the whip cracked like a pistol-shot, and the buckboard + dashed off in a cloud of dust. + </p> + <p> + “Every once in a while, Harkless,” the old fellow called after them, “you + must remember to look at the team.” + </p> + <p> + The enormous white tent was filled with a hazy yellow light, the warm, + dusty, mellow light that thrills the rejoicing heart because it is found + nowhere in the world except in the tents of a circus—the + canvas-filtered sunshine and sawdust atmosphere of show day. Through the + entrance the crowd poured steadily, coming from the absorptions of the + wild-animal tent to feast upon greater wonders; passing around the sawdust + ellipse that contained two soul-cloying rings, to find seats whence they + might behold the splendors so soon to be unfolded. Every one who was not + buying the eternal lemonade was eating something; and the faces of + children shone with gourmand rapture; indeed, very often the eyes of them + were all you saw, half-closed in palate-gloating over a huge apple, or a + bulky oblong of popcorn, partly unwrapped from its blue tissue-paper + cover; or else it might be a luscious pink crescent of watermelon, that + left its ravisher stained and dripping to the brow. + </p> + <p> + Here, as in the morning, the hawkers raised their cries in unintermittent + shrillness, offering to the musically inclined the Happy Evenings + Song-book, alleged to contain those treasures, all the latest songs of the + day, or presented for the consideration of the humorous the Lawrence + Lapearl Joke-book, setting forth in full the art of comical entertainment + and repartee. (Schofields' Henry bought two of these—no doubt on the + principle that two were twice as instructive as one—intending to + bury himself in study and do battle with Tom Martin on his own ground.) + </p> + <p> + Here swayed the myriad palm-leaf fans; here paraded blushing youth and + rosy maiden, more relentlessly arm-in-arm than ever; here crept the + octogenarian, Mr. Bodeffer, shaking on cane and the shoulder of posterity; + here waddled Mr. Snoddy, who had hurried through the animal tent for fear + of meeting the elephant; here marched sturdy yeomen and stout wives; here + came William Todd and his Anna Belle, the good William hushed with the + embarrassments of love, but looking out warily with the white of his eye + for Mr. Martin, and determined not to sit within a hundred yards of him; + here rolled in the orbit of habit the bacchanal, Mr. Wilkerson, who + politely answered in kind all the uncouth roarings and guttural + ejaculations of jungle and fen that came from the animal tent; in brief, + here came with lightest hearts the population of Carlow and part of Amo. + </p> + <p> + Helen had found a true word: it was a big family. Jim Bardlock, broadly + smiling and rejuvenated, shorn of depression, paused in front of the + “reserve” seats, with Mrs. Bardlock on his arm, and called loudly to a + gentleman on a tier about the level of Jim's head: “How are ye? I reckon + we were a <i>little</i> too smart fer 'em, this morning, huh?” Five or six + hundred people—every one within hearing—fumed to look at Jim; + but the gentleman addressed was engaged in conversation with a lady and + did not notice. + </p> + <p> + “Hi! Hi, there! <i>Say</i>! Mr. Harkless!” bellowed Jim, informally. The + people turned to look at Harkless. His attention was arrested and his + cheek grew red. + </p> + <p> + “<i>What is it</i>?” he asked, a little confused and a good deal annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “I don't hear what ye say,” shouted Jim, putting his hand to his ear. + </p> + <p> + “<i>What is it</i>?” repeated the young man. “I'll kill that fellow + to-night,” he added to Lige Willetts. “Some one ought to have done it long + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>say</i>, WHAT IS IT?” + </p> + <p> + “I only wanted to say me and you certainly did fool these here Hoosiers + this morning, huh? Hustled them two fellers through the court-house, and + nobody never thought to slip round to the other door and head us off. Ha, + ha! We were jest a <i>leetle</i> too many fer 'em, huh?” + </p> + <p> + From an upper tier of seats the rusty length of Mr. Martin erected itself + joint by joint, like an extension ladder, and he peered down over the + gaping faces at the Town Marshal. “Excuse me,” he said sadly to those + behind him, but his dry voice penetrated everywhere, “I got up to hear Jim + say 'We' again.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bardlock joined in the laugh against himself, and proceeded with his + wife to some seats, forty or fifty feet distant. When he had settled + himself comfortably, he shouted over cheerfully to the unhappy editor: + “Them shell-men got it in fer you, Mr. Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't that fool shet up <i>yit</i>?” snarled the aged Mr. Bodeffer, + indignantly. He was sitting near the young couple, and the expression of + his sympathy was distinctly audible to them and many others. “Got no more + regards than a brazing calf-disturbin' a feller with his sweetheart!” + </p> + <p> + “The both of 'em says they're goin' to do fer you,” bleated Mr. Bardlock. + “Swear they'll git their evens with ye.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Martin rose again. “Don't git scared and leave town, Mr. Harkless,” he + called out; “Jim'll protect you.” + </p> + <p> + Vastly to the young man's relief the band began to play, and the + equestrians and equestriennes capered out from the dressing-tent for the + “Grand Entrance,” and the performance commenced. Through the long summer + afternoon it went on: wonders of horsemanship and horsewomanship; + hair-raising exploits on wires, tight and slack; giddy tricks on the high + trapeze; feats of leaping and tumbling in the rings; while the tireless + musicians blatted inspiringly through it all, only pausing long enough to + allow that uproarious jester, the clown, to ask the ring-master what he + would do if a young lady came up and kissed him on the street, and to + exploit his hilarities during the short intervals of rest for the + athletes. + </p> + <p> + When it was over, John and Helen found themselves in the midst of a + densely packed crowd, and separated from Miss Briscoe and Lige. People + were pushing and shoving, and he saw her face grow pale. He realized with + a pang of sympathy how helpless he would feel if he were as small as she, + and at his utmost height could only see big, suffocating backs and huge + shoulders pressing down from above. He was keeping them from crowding + heavily upon her with all his strength, and a royal feeling of + protectiveness came over him. She was so little. And yet, without the + remotest hint of hardness, she gave him such a distinct impression of + poise and equilibrium, she seemed so able to meet anything that might + come, to understand it—even to laugh at it—so Americanly + capable and sure of the event, that in spite of her pale cheek he could + not feel quite so protective as he wished to feel. + </p> + <p> + He managed to get her to one of the tent-poles, and placed her with her + back to it. Then he set one of his own hands against it over her head, + braced himself and stood, keeping a little space about her, ruggedly + letting the crowd surge against him as it would; no one should touch her + in rough carelessness. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. It was rather trying in there,” she said, and looked up into + his eyes with a divine gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “Please don't do that,” he answered in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Look like that.” + </p> + <p> + She not only looked like that, but more so. “Young man, young man,” she + said, “I fear you're wishful of turning a girl's head.” + </p> + <p> + The throng was thick around them, garrulous and noisy, but they two were + more richly alone together, to his appreciation, than if they stood on + some far satellite of Mars. He was not to forget that moment, and he kept + the picture of her, as she leaned against the big blue tent-pole, there, + in his heart: the clear gray eyes lifted to his, the delicate face with + the color stealing back to her cheeks, and the brave little figure that + had run so straight to him out of the night shadows. There was something + about her, and in the moment, that suddenly touched him with a saddening + sweetness too keen to be borne; the forget-me-not finger of the flying + hour that could not come again was laid on his soul, and he felt the tears + start from his heart on their journey to his eyes. He knew that he should + always remember that moment. She knew it, too. She put her hand to her + cheek and turned away from him a little tremulously. Both were silent. + </p> + <p> + They had been together since early morning. Plattville was proud of him. + Many a friendly glance from the folk who jostled about them favored his + suit and wished both of them well, and many lips, opening to speak to + Harkless in passing, closed when their owners (more tactful than Mr. + Bardlock) looked a second time. + </p> + <p> + Old Tom Martin, still perched alone On his high seat, saw them standing by + the tent-pole, and watched them from under his rusty hat brim. “I reckon + it's be'n three or four thousand years since I was young,” he sighed to + himself; then, pushing his hat still further down over his eyes: “I don't + believe I'd ort to rightly look on at that.” He sighed again as he rose, + and gently spoke the name of his dead wife: “Marjie,—it's be'n + lonesome, sometimes. I reckon you're mighty tired waitin' for me, ever + since sixty-four—yet maybe not; Ulysses S. Grant's over on your side + now, and perhaps you've got acquainted with him; you always thought a good + deal more of him than you did of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that tall old man up there?” said Helen, nodding her head + toward Martin. “I think I should like to know him. I'm sure I like him.” + </p> + <p> + “That is old Tom Martin.” + </p> + <p> + “I know.” + </p> + <p> + “I was sorry and ashamed about all that conspicuousness and shouting. It + must have been very unpleasant for you; it must have been so, for a + stranger. Please try to forgive me for letting you in for it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I liked it. It was 'all in the family,' and it was so jolly and + good-natured, and that dear old man was so bright. Do you know,” she said + softly, “I don't think I'm such a stranger—I—I think I love + all these people a great deal—in spite of having known them only two + days.” + </p> + <p> + At that a wild exhilaration possessed him. He wanted to shake hands with + everybody in the tent, to tell them all that he loved them with his whole + heart, but, what was vastly more important, <i>she</i> loved them a great + deal—in spite of having known them only two days! + </p> + <p> + He made the horses prance on the homeward drive, and once, when she told + him that she had read a good many of his political columns in the + “Herald,” he ran them into a fence. After this it occurred to him that + they were nearing their destination and had come at a perversely sharp + gait; so he held the roans down to a snail's pace (if it be true that a + snail's natural gait is not a trot) for the rest of the way, while they + talked of Tom Meredith and books and music, and discovered that they + differed widely about Ibsen. + </p> + <p> + They found Mr. Fisbee in the yard, talking to Judge Briscoe. As they drove + up, and before the horses had quite stopped, Helen leaped to the ground + and ran to the old scholar with both her hands outstretched to him. He + looked timidly at her, and took the hands she gave him; then he produced + from his pocket a yellow telegraph envelope, watching her anxiously as she + received it. However, she seemed to attach no particular importance to it, + and, instead of opening it, leaned toward him, still holding one of his + hands. + </p> + <p> + “These awful old men!” Harkless groaned inwardly as he handed the horses + over to the judge. “I dare say <i>he</i>'ll kiss her, too.” But, when the + editor and Mr. Willetts had gone, it was Helen who kissed Fisbee. + </p> + <p> + “They're coming out to spend the evening, aren't they?” asked Briscoe, + nodding to the young men as they set off down the road. + </p> + <p> + “Lige has to come whether he wants to or not,” Minnie laughed, rather + consciously; “It's his turn to-night to look after Mr. Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess he won't mind coming,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” returned his daughter, glancing at Helen, who stood apart, reading + the telegram to Fisbee, “I know if he follows Mr. Harkless he'll get here + pretty soon after supper—as soon as the moon comes up, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + The editor of the “Herald” was late to his supper that evening. It was + dusk when he reached the hotel, and, for the first time in history, a + gentleman sat down to meat in that house of entertainment in evening + dress. There was no one in the diningroom when he went in; the other + boarders had finished, and it was Cynthia's “evening out,” but the + landlord came and attended to his guests' wants himself, and chatted with + him while he ate. + </p> + <p> + “There's a picture of Henry Clay,” remarked Landis, in obvious relevancy + to his companion's attire, “there's a picture of Henry Clay somewheres + about the house in a swallow-tail coat. Governor Ray spoke here in one in + early times, Bodeffer says, except it was higher built up 'n yourn about + the collar, and had brass buttons, I think. Ole man Wimby was here + to-night,” the landlord continued, changing the subject. “He waited around + fer ye a good while. He's be'n mighty wrought up sence the trouble this + morning, an' wanted to see ye bad. I don't know 'f you seen it, but that + feller 't knocked your hat off was mighty near tore to pieces in the crowd + before he got away. 'Seems some the boys re-<i>cog</i>-nized him as one + the Cross-Roads Skillets, and sicked the dogs on him, and he had a pretty + mean time of it. Wimby says the Cross-Roads folks'll be worse 'n ever, + and, says he, 'Tell him to stick close to town,' says he. 'They'll do + anything to git him now,' says he, 'and <i>resk</i> anything.' I told him + you wouldn't take no stock in it, but, see here, don't you put nothin' too + mean fer them folks. I tell you, Mr. Harkless, plenty of us are scared fer + ye.” + </p> + <p> + The good fellow was so earnest that when the editor's meal was finished + and he would have departed, Landis detained him almost by force until the + arrival of Mr. Willetts, who, the landlord knew, was his allotted escort' + for the evening. When Lige came (wearing a new tie, a pink one he had + hastened to buy as soon as his engagements had allowed him the + opportunity), Mr. Landis hissed a savage word of reproach for his + tardiness in his ear, and whisperingly bade him not let the other out of + reach that night, to which Willetts replied with a nod implying his + trustworthiness; and the young men set off in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Harkless wondered if his costume were not an injustice to his companion, + but he did not regret it; he would wear his best court suit, his laces and + velvets, for deference to that lady. It was a painful thing to remember + his dusty rustiness of the night before, the awful Carlow cut of his coat, + and his formless black cravat; the same felt hat he wore again to-night, + perforce, but it was brushed—brushed almost to holes in spots, and + somehow he had added a touch of shape to it. His dress-coat was an + antique; fashions had changed, no doubt; he did not know; possibly she + would recognize its vintage—but it was a dress-coat. + </p> + <p> + Lige walked along talking; Harkless answering “Yes” and “No” at random. + The woodland-spiced air was like champagne to him; the road under foot so + elastic and springy that he felt like a thoroughbred before a race; he + wanted to lift his foot knee-high at every step, he had so much energy to + spare. In the midst of a speech of Lige's about the look of the wheat he + suddenly gave out a sigh so deep, so heartfelt, so vibrant, so profound, + that Willetts turned with astonishment; but when his eye reached his + companion's face, Harkless was smiling. The editor extended his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Shake hands, Lige,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The moon peeped over the shoulder of an eastern wood, and the young men + suddenly descried their long shadows stretching in front of them. Harkless + turned to look at the silhouetted town, the tree-tops and roofs and the + Methodist church spire, silvered at the edges. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that town, Willetts?” he asked, laying his fingers on his + companion's sleeve. “That's the best town in the United States!” + </p> + <p> + “I always kind of thought you didn't much like it,” said the other, + puzzled. “Seemed to me you always sort of wished you hadn't settled here.” + </p> + <p> + A little further on they passed Mr. Fisbee. He was walking into the + village with his head thrown back, a strange thing for him. They gave him + a friendly greeting and passed on. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it beats me!” observed Lige, when the old man was out of hearing. + “He's be'n there to supper again. He was there all day yesterday, and with + 'em at the lecture, and at the deepo day before and he looks like another + man, and dressed up—for him—to beat thunder——What + do you expect makes him so thick out there all of a sudden?” + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't thought about it. The judge and he have been friends a good + while, haven't they?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, three or four years; but not like this. It beats <i>me</i>! He's all + upset over Miss Sherwood, I think. Old enough to be her grandfather, too, + the old——” + </p> + <p> + His companion stopped him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” + </p> + <p> + They were at the corner of the Briscoe picket fence, and a sound lilted + through the stillness—a touch on the keys that Harkless knew. + “Listen,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + It was the “Moonlight Sonata” that Helen was playing. “It's a pretty + piece,” observed Lige after a time. John could have choked him, but he + answered: “Yes, it is seraphic.” + </p> + <p> + “Who made it up?” pursued Mr. Willetts. + </p> + <p> + “Beethoven.” + </p> + <p> + “Foreigner, I expect. Yet in some way or another makes me think of fishing + down on the Wabash bend in Vigo, and camping out nights like this; it's a + mighty pretty country around there—especially at night.” + </p> + <p> + The sonata was finished, and then she sang—sang the “Angel's + Serenade.” As the soft soprano lifted and fell in the modulations of that + song there was in its timbre, apart from the pure, amber music of it, a + questing, seeking pathos, and Willetts felt the hand on his shoulder + tighten and then relax; and, as the song ended, he saw that his + companion's eyes were shining and moist. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. NIGHT: IT IS BAD LUCK TO SING BEFORE BREAKFAST + </h2> + <p> + There was a lace of faint mists along the creek and beyond, when John and + Helen reached their bench (of course they went back there), and broken + roundelays were croaking from a bayou up the stream, where rakish frogs + held carnival in resentment of the lonesomeness. The air was still and + close. Hundreds of fire-flies coquetted with the darkness amongst the + trees across the water, glinting from unexpected spots, shading their + little lanterns for a second to glow again from other shadows. The sky was + a wonderful olive green; a lazy cloud drifted in it and lapped itself + athwart the moon. + </p> + <p> + “The dead painters design the skies for us each day and night, I think,” + Helen said, as she dropped a little scarf from her shoulders and leaned + back on the bench. “It must be the only way to keep them happy and busy + 'up there.' They let them take turns, and those not on duty, probably + float around and criticise.” + </p> + <p> + “They've given a good man his turn to-night,” said John; “some quiet + colorist, a poetic, friendly soul, no Turner—though I think I've + seen a Turner sunset or two in Plattville.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a sculptor's sunset this evening. Did you see it?—great + massy clouds piled heap on heap, almost with violence. I'm sure it was + Michelangelo. The judge didn't think it meant Michelangelo; he thought it + meant rain.” + </p> + <p> + “Michelangelo gets a chance rather often, doesn't he, considering the + number of art people there must be over there? I believe I've seen a good + many sunsets of his, and a few dawns, too; the dawns not for a long time—I + used to see them more frequently toward the close of senior year, when we + sat up all night talking, knowing we'd lose one another soon, and trying + to hold on as long as we could.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to him with a little frown. “Why have you never let Tom + Meredith know you were living so near him, less than a hundred miles, when + he has always liked and admired you above all the rest of mankind? I know + that he has tried time and again to hear of you, but the other men wrote + that they knew nothing—that it was thought you had gone abroad. I + had heard of you, and so must he have seen your name in the Rouen papers—about + the 'White-Caps,' and in politics—but he would never dream of + connecting the Plattville Mr. Harkless with <i>his</i> Mr. Harkless, + though <i>I</i> did, just a little, and rather vaguely. I knew, of course, + when you came into the lecture. But why haven't you written to my cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “Rouen seems a long way from here,” he answered quietly. “I've only been + there once—half a day on business. Except that, I've never been + further away than Amo or Gainesville, for a convention or to make a + speech, since I came here.” + </p> + <p> + “Wicked!” she exclaimed, “To shut yourself up like this! I said it was + fine to drop out of the world; but why have you cut off your old friends + from you? Why haven't you had a relapse, now and then, and come over to + hear Ysaye play and Melba sing, or to see Mansfield or Henry Irving, when + we have had them? And do you think you've been quite fair to Tom? What + right had you to assume that he had forgotten you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't exactly mean forgotten,” he said, pulling a blade of grass + to and fro between his fingers, staring at it absently. “It's only that I + have dropped out of the world, you know. I kept track of every one, saw + most of my friends, or corresponded, now and then, for a year or so after + I left college; but people don't miss you much after a while. They rather + expected me to do a lot of things, in a way, you know, and I wasn't doing + them. I was glad to get away. I always had an itch for newspaper work, and + I went on a New York paper. Maybe it was the wrong paper; at least, I + wasn't fit for it. There was something in the side of life I saw, too, not + only on the paper, that made me heart-sick; and then the rush and fight + and scramble to be first, to beat the other man. Probably I am too + squeamish. I saw classmates and college friends diving into it, bound to + come out ahead, dear old, honest, frank fellows, who had been so + happy-go-lucky and kind and gay, growing too busy to meet and be good to + any man who couldn't be good to them, asking (more delicately) the eternal + question, 'What does it get me?' You might think I bad-met with + unkindness; but it was not so; it was the other way more than I deserved. + But the cruel competition, the thousands fighting for places, the + multitude scrambling for each ginger-bread baton, the cold faces on the + streets—perhaps it's all right and good; of course it has to <i>be</i>—but + I wanted to get out of it, though I didn't want to come <i>here</i>. That + was chance. A new man bought the paper I was working for, and its policy + changed. Many of the same men still wrote for it, facing cheerfully about + and advocating a tricky theory, vehement champions of a set of personal + schemers and waxy images.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with feeling; but now, as though a trifle ashamed of too much + seriousness, and justifiably afraid of talking like one of his own + editorials, he took a lighter tone. “I had been taken on the paper through + a friend and not through merit, and by the same undeserved, kindly + influence, after a month or so I was set to writing short political + editorials, and was at it nearly two years. When the paper changed hands + the new proprietor indicated that he would be willing to have me stay and + write the other way. I refused; and it became somewhat plain to me that I + was beginning to be a failure. + </p> + <p> + “A cousin of mine, the only relative I had, died in Chicago, and I went to + his funeral. I happened to hear of the Carlow 'Herald' through an agent + there, the most eloquent gentleman I ever met. I was younger, and even + more thoughtless than now, and I had a little money and I handed it over + for the 'Herald.' I wanted to run a paper myself, and to build up a power! + And then, though I only lived here the first few years of my life and all + the rest of it had been spent in the East, I was born in Indiana, and, in + a way, the thought of coming back to a life-work in my native State + appealed to me. I always had a dim sort of feeling that the people out in + these parts knew more—had more sense and were less artificial, I + mean—and were kinder, and tried less to be somebody else, than + almost any other people anywhere. And I believe it's so. It's dull, here + in Carlow, of course—that is, it used to be. The agent explained + that I could make the paper a daily at once, with an enormous circulation + in the country. I was very, very young. Then I came here and saw what I + had got. Possibly it is because I am sensitive that I never let Tom know. + They expected me to amount to something; but I don't believe his welcome + would be less hearty to a failure—he is a good heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Failure!” she cried, and clapped her hands and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm really not very tragic about it, though I must seem consumed with + self-pity,” he returned, smiling. “It is only that I have dropped out of + the world while Tom is still in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Dropped out of the world!'” she echoed, impatiently. “Can't you see + you've dropped into it? That you——” + </p> + <p> + “Last night I was honored by your praise of my graceful mode of quitting + it!” + </p> + <p> + “And so you wish me to be consistent!” she retorted scornfully. “What + becomes of your gallantry when <i>we</i> abide by reason?” + </p> + <p> + “True enough; equality is a denial of privilege.” + </p> + <p> + “And privilege is a denial of equality. I don't like that at all.” She + turned a serious, suddenly illuminated face upon him and spoke earnestly. + “It's my hobby, I should tell you, and I'm very tired of that nonsense + about 'women always sounding the personal note.' It <i>should</i> be + sounded as we would sound it. And I think we could bear the loss of + 'privilege'—” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and raised a protesting hand. “But <i>we</i> couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you couldn't; it's the ribbon of superiority in your buttonhole. I + know several women who manage to live without men to open doors for them, + and I think I could bear to let a man pass before me now and then, or wear + his hat in an office where I happened to be; and I could get my own ice at + a dance, I think, possibly with even less fuss and scramble than I've + sometimes observed in the young men who have done it for me. But you know + you would never let us do things for ourselves, no matter what legal + equality might be declared, even when we get representation for our + taxation. You will never be able to deny yourselves giving us our + 'privilege.' I hate being waited on. I'd rather do things for myself.” + </p> + <p> + She was so earnest in her satire, so full of scorn and so serious in her + meaning, and there was such a contrast between what she said and her + person; she looked so preeminently the pretty marquise, all silks and + softness, the little exquisite, so essentially to be waited on and helped, + to have cloaks thrown over the dampness for her to tread upon, to be run + about for—he could see half a dozen youths rushing about for her + ices, for her carriage, for her chaperone, for her wrap, at dances—that + to save his life he could not repress a chuckle. He managed to make it + inaudible, however; and it was as well that he did. + </p> + <p> + “I understand your love of newspaper work,” she went on, less vehemently, + but not less earnestly. “I have always wanted to do it myself, wanted to + immensely. I can't think of any more fascinating way of earning one's + living. And I know I could do it. Why don't you make the 'Herald' a + daily?” + </p> + <p> + To hear her speak of “earning one's living” was too much for him. She gave + the impression of riches, not only for the fine texture and fashioning of + her garments, but one felt that luxuries had wrapped her from her birth. + He had not had much time to wonder what she did in Plattville; it had + occurred to him that it was a little odd that she could plan to spend any + extent of time there, even if she had liked Minnie Briscoe at school. He + felt that she must have been sheltered and petted and waited on all her + life; one could not help yearning to wait on her. + </p> + <p> + He answered inarticulately, “Oh, some day,” in reply to her question, and + then burst into outright laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I might have known you wouldn't take me seriously,” she said with no + indignation, only a sad wistfulness. “I am well used to it. I think it is + because I am not tall; people take big girls with more gravity. Big people + are nearly always listened to.” + </p> + <p> + “Listened to?” he said, and felt that he must throw himself on his knees + before her. “You oughtn't to mind being Titania. She was listened to, you——” + </p> + <p> + She sprang to her feet and her eyes flashed. “Do you think personal + comment is ever in good taste?” she cried fiercely, and in his surprise he + almost fell off the bench. “If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is to + be told that I am '<i>small</i>' I am not! Every one who isn't a giantess + isn't '<i>small</i>'. I <i>hate</i> personalities! I am a great deal over + five feet, a great deal more than that. I——” + </p> + <p> + “Please, <i>please</i>,” he said, “I didn't——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say you are sorry,” she interrupted, and in spite of his contrition + he found her angry voice delicious, it was still so sweet, hot with + indignation, but ringing, not harsh. “Don't say you didn't mean it; + because you did! You can't unsay it, you cannot alter it! Ah!” She drew in + her breath with a sharp sigh, and covering her face with her hands, sank + back upon the bench. “I will not cry,” she said, not so firmly as she + thought she did. + </p> + <p> + “My blessed child!” he cried, in great distress and perturbation, “What + have I done? I—I——” + </p> + <p> + “Call me 'small' all you like!” she answered. “I don't care. It isn't + that. You mustn't think me such an imbecile.” She dropped her hands from + her face and shook the tears from her eyes with a mournful laugh. He saw + that her hands were clenched tightly and her lip trembled. “I will not + cry!” she said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody ought to murder me; I ought to have thought—personalities + <i>are</i> hideous——” + </p> + <p> + “Don't! It wasn't that.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be shot——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, please don't say that,” she said, shuddering; “please don't, not even + as a joke—after last night.” + </p> + <p> + “But I ought to be for hurting you, indeed——” + </p> + <p> + She laughed sadly, again. “It wasn't that. I don't care what you call me. + I am small. You'll try to forgive me for being such a baby? I didn't mean + anything I said. I haven't acted so badly since I was a child.” + </p> + <p> + “It's my fault, all of it. I've tired you out. And I let you get into that + crush at the circus—” he was going on, remorsefully. + </p> + <p> + “<i>That</i>!” she interrupted. “I don't think I would have missed the + circus.” He had a thrilling hope that she meant the tent-pole; she looked + as if she meant that, but he dared not let himself believe it. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he continued; “I have been so madly happy in being with you that + I've fairly worn out your patience. I've haunted you all day, and I have——” + </p> + <p> + “All that has nothing to do with it,” she said, slowly. “Just after you + left, this afternoon, I found that I could not stay here. My people are + going abroad, to Dresden, at once, and I must go with them. That's what + almost made me cry. I leave to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + He felt something strike at his heart. In the sudden sense of dearth he + had no astonishment that she should betray such agitation over her + departure from a place she had known so little, and friends who certainly + were not part of her life. He rose to his feet, and, resting his arm + against a sycamore, stood staring away from her at nothing. + </p> + <p> + She did not move. There was a long silence. + </p> + <p> + He had wakened suddenly; the skies had been sapphire, the sward emerald, + Plattville a Camelot of romance; to be there, enchantment—and now, + like a meteor burned out in a breath, the necromancy fell away and he + gazed into desolate years. The thought of the Square, his dusty office, + the bleak length of Main Street, as they should appear to-morrow, gave him + a faint physical sickness. To-day it had all been touched to beauty; he + had felt fit to live and work there a thousand years—a fool's dream, + and the waking was to emptiness. He should die now of hunger and thirst in + that Sahara; he hoped the Fates would let it be soon—but he knew + they would not; knew that this was hysteria, that in his endurance he + should plod on, plod, plod dustily on, through dingy, lonely years. + </p> + <p> + There was a rumble of thunder far out on the western prairie. A cold + breath stole through the hot stillness, and an arm of vapor reached out + between the moon and the quiet earth. Darkness fell. The man and the girl + kept silence between them. They might have been two sad guardians of the + black little stream that splashed unseen at their feet. Now and then an + echo of far away lightning faintly illumined them with a green light. + Thunder rolled nearer, ominously; the gods were driving their chariots + over the bridge. The chill breath passed, leaving the air again to its hot + inertia. + </p> + <p> + “I did not want to go,” she said, at last, with tears just below the + surface of her voice. “I wanted to stay here, but he—they wouldn't—I + can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Wanted to stay here?” he said, huskily, not turning. “Here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “In Rouen, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “In Plattville.” + </p> + <p> + “In Plattville?” He turned now, astounded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; wouldn't you have taken me on the 'Herald'?” She rose and came + toward him. “I could have supported myself here if you would—and + I've studied how newspapers are made; I know I could have earned a wage. + We could have made it a daily.” He searched in vain for a trace of + raillery in her voice; there was none; she seemed to intend her words to + be taken literally. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” he said. “I don't know what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that I want to stay here; that I ought to stay here; that my + conscience tells me I should—but I can't and it makes me very + unhappy. That was why I acted so badly.” + </p> + <p> + “Your conscience!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know what a jumble and puzzle it must seem to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I only know one thing; that you are going away to-morrow morning, and + that I shall never see you again.” + </p> + <p> + The darkness had grown heavy. They could not see each other; but a wan + glimmer gave him a fleeting, misty view of her; she stood half-turned away + from him, her hand to her cheek in the uncertain fashion of his great + moment of the afternoon; her eyes-he saw in the flying picture that he + caught—were adorably troubled and her hand trembled. She had been + irresistible in her gaiety; but now that a mysterious distress assailed + her, the reason for which he had no guess, she was so divinely pathetic; + and seemed such a rich and lovely and sad and happy thing to have come + into his life only to go out of it; and he was so full of the prophetic + sense of loss of her—it seemed so much like losing everything—that + he found too much to say to be able to say anything. + </p> + <p> + He tried to speak, and choked a little. A big drop of rain fell on his + bare head. Neither of them noticed the weather or cared for it. They stood + with the renewed blackness hanging like a thick drapery between them. + </p> + <p> + “Can—can you—tell me why you think you ought not to go?” he + whispered, finally, with a great effort. + </p> + <p> + “No; not now. But I know you would think I am right in wanting to stay,” + she cried, impulsively. “I know you would, if you knew about it—but + I can't, I can't. I must go in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I should always think you right,” he answered in an unsteady tone, + “Always!” He went over to the bench, fumbled about for his hat, and picked + it up. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, gently, “I am going now.” + </p> + <p> + She stood quite motionless for a full minute or longer; then, without a + word, she moved toward the house. He went to her with hands extended to + find her, and his fingers touched her sleeve. Then together and silently + they found the garden-path; and followed its dim length. In the orchard he + touched her sleeve again and led the way. + </p> + <p> + As they came out behind the house she detained him. Stopping short, she + shook his hand from her arm. She spoke in a single breath, as if it were + all one word: + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me why you go? It is not late. Why do you wish to leave me, + when I shall not see you again?” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord be good to me!” he broke out, all his long-pent passion of + dreams rushing to his lips, now that the barrier fell. “Don't you see it + is because I can't bear to let you go? I hoped to get away without saying + it. I want to be alone. I want to be with myself and try to realize. I + didn't want to make a babbling idiot of myself—but I am! It is + because I don't want another second of your sweetness to leave an added + pain when you've gone. It is because I don't want to hear your voice + again, to have it haunt me in the loneliness you will leave—but it's + useless, useless! I shall hear it always, just as I shall always see your + face, just as I have heard your voice and seen your face these seven years—ever + since I first saw you, a child at Winter Harbor. I forgot for a while; I + thought it was a girl I had made up out of my own heart, but it was you—you + always! The impression I thought nothing of at the time, just the merest + touch on my heart, light as it was, grew and grew deeper until it was + there forever. You've known me twenty-four hours, and I understand what + you think of me for speaking to you like this. If I had known you for + years and had waited and had the right to speak and keep your respect, + what have I to offer you? I, couldn't even take care of you if you went + mad as I and listened. I've no excuse for this raving. Yes, I have!” + </p> + <p> + He saw her in another second of lightning, a sudden, bright one. Her back + was turned to him; she had taken a few startled steps from him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” he cried, “you are glad enough, now, to see me go! I knew it. I + wanted to spare myself that. I tried not to be a hysterical fool in your + eyes.” He turned aside and his head fell on his breast. “God help me,” he + said, “what will this place be to me now?” + </p> + <p> + The breeze had risen; it gathered force; it was a chill wind, and there + rose a wailing on the prairie. Drops of rain began to fall. + </p> + <p> + “You will not think a question implied in this,” he said more composedly, + and with an unhappy laugh at himself. “I believe you will not think me + capable of asking you if you care——” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered; “I—I do not love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Was it a question, after all? I—you read me better than I do, + perhaps—but if I asked, I knew the answer.” + </p> + <p> + She made as if to speak again, but words refused her. + </p> + <p> + After a moment, “Good-by,” he said, very steadily. “I thank you for the + charity that has given me this little time with you—it will always + be—precious to me—I shall always be your servant.” His + steadiness did not carry him to the end of his sentence. “Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + She started toward him and stopped, without his seeing her. She answered + nothing; but stretched out her hand to him and then let it fall quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he said again. “I shall go out the orchard gate. Please tell + them good-night for me. Won't you speak to me? Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + He stood waiting while the rising wind blew their garments about them. She + leaned against the wall of the house. “Won't you say good-by and tell me + you can forget my——” + </p> + <p> + She did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he cried, wildly. “Since you don't forget it! I have spoiled what + might have been a pleasant memory for you, and I know it. You were already + troubled, and I have added, and you won't forget it, nor shall I—nor + shall I! Don't say good-by—I can say it for both of us. God bless + you—and good-by, good-by, good-by!” + </p> + <p> + He crushed his hat down over his eyes and ran toward the orchard gate. For + a moment lightning flashed repeatedly; she saw him go out the gate and + disappear into sudden darkness. He ran through the field and came out on + the road. Heaven and earth were revealed again for a dazzling white + second. From horizon to horizon rolled clouds contorted like an + illimitable field of inverted haystacks, and beneath them enormous volumes + of pale vapor were tumbling in the west, advancing eastward with sinister + swiftness. She ran to a little knoll at the corner of the house and saw + him set his face to the storm. She cried aloud to him with all her + strength and would have followed, but the wind took the words out of her + mouth and drove her back cowering to the shelter of the house. + </p> + <p> + Out on the road the dust came lashing and stinging him like a thousand + nettles; it smothered him, and beat upon him so that he covered his face + with his sleeve and fought into the storm shoulder foremost, dimly glad of + its rage, scarcely conscious of it, keeping westward on his way to + nowhere. West or east, south or north—it was all one to him. The few + heavy drops that fell boiling into the dust ceased to come; the rain + withheld while the wind-kings rode on earth. On he went in spite of them. + On and on, running blindly when he could run at all. At least, the + wind-kings were company. He had been so long alone. He could remember no + home that had ever been his since he was a little child, neither father + nor mother, no one who belonged to him or to whom he belonged, except one + cousin, an old man who was dead. For a day his dreams had found in a + girl's eyes the precious thing that is called home—oh, the wild + fancy! He laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + There was a startling answer; a lance of living fire hurled from the sky, + riving the fields before his eyes, while crash on crash of artillery + numbed his ears. With that his common-sense awoke and he looked about him. + He was almost two miles from town; the nearest house was the Briscoes' far + down the road. He knew the rain would come now. There was a big oak near + him at the roadside. He stepped under its sheltering branches and leaned + against the great trunk, wiping the perspiration and dust from his face. A + moment of stunned quiet had succeeded the peal of thunder. It was followed + by several moments of incessant lightning that played along the road and + danced in the fields. From that intolerable brightness he turned his head + and saw, standing against the fence, five feet away, a man, leaning over + the top rail and looking at him. + </p> + <p> + The same flash staggered brilliantly before Helen's eyes as she crouched + against the back steps of the brick house. It scarred a picture like a + marine of big waves: the tossing tops of the orchard trees; for in the + same second the full fury of the storm was loosed, wind and rain and hail. + It drove her against the kitchen door with cruel force; the latch lifted, + the door blew open violently, and she struggled to close it in vain. The + house seemed to rock. A lamp flickered toward her from the inner doorway + and was blown out. + </p> + <p> + “Helen! Helen!” came Minnie's voice, anxiously. “Is that you? We were + coming to look for you. Did you get wet?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Willetts threw his weight against the door and managed to close it. + Then Minnie found her friend's hand and led her through the dark hall to + the parlor where the judge sat, placidly reading by a student-lamp. + </p> + <p> + Lige chuckled as they left the kitchen. “I guess you didn't try too hard + to shut that door, Harkless,” he said, and then, when they came into the + lighted room, “Why, where <i>is</i> Harkless?” he asked. “Didn't he come + with us from the kitchen?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Helen, faintly; “he's gone.” She sank upon the sofa and + drew her hand across her eyes as if to shade them from too sudden light. + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” The judge dropped his book and stared across the table at the + girl. “Gone! When?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes—five—half an hour—I don't know. Before the + storm commenced.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” The old gentleman appeared to be reassured. “Probably he had work to + do and wanted to get in before the rain.” + </p> + <p> + But Lige Willetts was turning pale. He swallowed several times with + difficulty. “Which way did he go? He didn't come around the house; we were + out there till the storm broke.” + </p> + <p> + “He went by the orchard gate. When he got to the road he turned that way.” + She pointed to the west. + </p> + <p> + “He must have been crazy!” exclaimed the judge. “What possessed the + fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't stop him. I didn't know how.” She looked at her three + companions, slowly and with growing terror, from one face to another. + Minnie's eyes were wide and she had unconsciously grasped Lige's arm; the + young man was looking straight before him; the judge got up and walked + nervously back and forth. Helen rose to her feet swiftly and went toward + the old man, her hands pressed to her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she cried out, sharply, “I had forgotten <i>that</i>! You don't + think they—you don't think——” + </p> + <p> + “I know what I think,” Lige broke in; “I think I'd ought to be hanged for + letting him out of my sight. Maybe it's all right; maybe he turned and + started right back for town—and got there. But I had no business to + leave him, and if I can I'll catch up with him yet.” He went to the front + door, and, opening it, let in a tornado of wind and flood of water that + beat him back; sheets of rain blew in horizontally, in spite of the porch + beyond. + </p> + <p> + Briscoe followed him. “Don't be a fool, Lige,” he said. “You hardly expect + to go out in that.” Lige shook his head; it needed them both to get the + door closed. The young man leaned against it and passed his sleeve across + his wet brow. “I hadn't ought to have left him.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't scare the girls,” whispered the other; then in a louder tone: “All + I'm afraid of is that he'll get blown to pieces or catch his death of + cold. That's all there is to worry about. Those scalawags wouldn't try it + again so soon after last night. I'm not bothering about that; not at all. + That needn't worry anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “But this morning——” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! He's likely home and dry by this time—all foolishness; don't + be an old woman.” The two men reentered the room and found Helen clinging + to Minnie's hand on the sofa. She looked up at them quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think—do you—what do you—” Her voice shook so + that she could not go on. + </p> + <p> + The judge pinched her cheek and patted it. “I think he's home and dry, but + I think he got wet first; that's what I think. Never you fear, he's a good + hand at taking care of himself. Sit down, Lige. You can't go for a while.” + Nor could he. It was long before he could venture out; the storm raged and + roared without abatement; it was Carlow's worst since 'Fifty-one, the old + gentleman said. They heard the great limbs crack and break outside, while + the thunder boomed and the wind ripped at the eaves till it seemed the + roof must go. Meanwhile the judge, after some apology, lit his pipe and + told long stories of the storms of early days and of odd freaks of the + wind. He talked on calmly, the picture of repose, and blew rings above his + head, but Helen saw that one of his big slippers beat an unceasing little + tattoo on the carpet. She sat with fixed eyes, in silence, holding + Minnie's hand tightly; and her face was colorless, and grew whiter as the + slow hours dragged by. + </p> + <p> + Every moment Mr. Willetts became more restless, though assuring the ladies + he had no anxiety regarding Mr. Harkless; it was only his own dereliction + of duty that he regretted; the boys would have the laugh on him, he said. + But he visibly chafed more and more under the judge's stories; and + constantly rose to peer out of the window into the wrack and turmoil, or + uneasily shifted in his chair. Once or twice he struck his hands together + with muttered ejaculations. At last there was a lull in the fury without, + and, as soon as it was perceptible, he declared his intention of making + his way into town; he had ought to have went before, he declared, + apprehensively; and then, with immediate amendment, of course he would + find the editor at work in the “Herald” office; there wasn't the slightest + doubt of that; he agreed with the judge, but he better see about it. He + would return early in the morning to bid Miss Sherwood good-by; hoped + she'd come back, some day; hoped it wasn't her last visit to Plattville. + They gave him an umbrella and he plunged out into the night, and as they + stood watching him for a moment from the door, the old man calling after + him cheery good-nights and laughing messages to Harkless, they could hear + his feet slosh into the puddles and see him fight with his umbrella when + he got out into the road. + </p> + <p> + Helen's room was over the porch, the windows facing north, looking out + upon the pike and across the fields beyond. “Please don't light the lamp, + Minnie,” she said, when they had gone upstairs. “I don't need a light.” + Miss Briscoe was flitting about the room, hunting for matches. In the + darkness she came to her friend, and laid a kind, large hand on Helen's + eyes, and the hand became wet. She drew Helen's head down on her shoulder + and sat beside her on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Sweetheart, you mustn't fret,” she soothed, in motherly fashion. “Don't + you worry, dear. He's all right. It isn't your fault, dear. They wouldn't + come on a night like this.” + </p> + <p> + But Helen drew away and went to the window, flattening her arm against the + pane, her forehead pressed against her arm. She had let him go; she had + let him go alone. She had forgotten the danger that always beset him. She + had been so crazy, she had seen nothing, thought of nothing. She had let + him go into that, and into the storm, alone. Who knew better than she how + cruel they were? She had seen the fire leap from the white blossom and + heard the ball whistle, the ball they had meant for his heart, that good, + great heart. She had run to him the night before—why had she let him + go into the unknown and the storm to-night? But how could she have stopped + him? How could she have kept him, after what he had said? She peered into + the night through distorting tears. + </p> + <p> + The wind had gone down a little, but only a little, and the electrical + flashes danced all around the horizon in magnificent display, sometimes + far away, sometimes dazingly near, the darkness trebly deep between the + intervals when the long sweep of flat lands lay in dazzling clearness, + clean-cut in the washed air to the finest detail of stricken field and + heaving woodland. A staggering flame clove earth and sky; sheets of light + came following it, and a frightful uproar shook the house and rattled the + casements, but over the crash of thunder Minnie heard her friend's loud + scream and saw her spring back from the window with both hands, palm + outward, pressed to her face. She leaped to her and threw her arms about + her. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” Helen dragged her to the window. “At the next flash—the + fence beyond the meadow——” + </p> + <p> + “What was it? What was it like?” The lightning flashed incessantly. Helen + tried to point; her hand only jerked from side to side. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Look</i>!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I see nothing but the lightning,” Minnie answered, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the <i>fence</i>! The fence—and in the field!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Helen</i>! What was it <i>like</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah-ah!” she panted, “a long line of white—horrible white——” + </p> + <p> + “What <i>like</i>?” Minnie turned from the window and caught the other's + wrist in a fluttering clasp. + </p> + <p> + “Minnie, Minnie! Like long white gowns and cowls crossing the fence.” + Helen released her wrist, and put both hands on Minnie's cheeks, forcing + her around to face the pane. “You must look—you must look,” she + cried. + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn't do it, they wouldn't—it <i>isn't</i>!” Minnie cried. + “They couldn't come in the storm. They wouldn't do it in the pouring + rain!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Such things would mind the rain!” She burst into hysterical + laughter, and Minnie, almost as unnerved, caught her about the waist. + “They would mind the rain. They would fear a storm! Ha, ha, ha! Yes—yes! + And I let him go—I let him go!” + </p> + <p> + Pressing close together, shuddering, clasping each other's waists, the two + girls peered out at the flickering landscape. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Look</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Up from the distant fence that bordered the northern side of Jones's + field, a pale, pelted, flapping thing reared itself, poised, and seemed, + just as the blackness came again, to drop to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Did you <i>see</i>?” + </p> + <p> + But Minnie had thrown herself into a chair with a laugh of wild relief. + “My darling girl!” she cried. “Not a line of white things—just one—Mr. + Jones's old scarecrow! And we saw it blown down!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no! I saw the others; they were in the field beyond. I saw them! + When I looked the first time they were nearly all on the fence. This time + we saw the last man crossing. Ah! I let him go alone!” + </p> + <p> + Minnie sprang up and enfolded her. “No; you dear, imagining child, you're + upset and nervous—that's all the matter in the world. Don't worry; + don't, child, it's all right. Mr. Harkless is home and safe in bed long + ago. I know that old scarecrow on the fence like a book; you're so + unstrung you fancied the rest. He's all right; don't you bother, dear.” + </p> + <p> + The big, motherly girl took her companion in her arms and rocked her back + and forth soothingly, and petted and reassured her, and then cried a + little with her, as a good-hearted girl always will with a friend. Then + she left her for the night with many a cheering word and tender caress. + “Get to sleep, dear,” she called through the door when she had closed it + behind her. “You must, if you have to go in the morning—it just + breaks my heart. I don't know how we'll bear it without you. Father will + miss you almost as much as I will. Good-night. Don't bother about that old + white scarecrow. That's all it was. Good-night, dear, good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, dear,” answered a plaintive little voice. Helen's hot cheek + pressed the pillow and tossed from side to side. By and by she turned the + pillow over; it had grown wet. The wind blew about the eaves and blew + itself out; she hardly heard it. Sleep would not come. She got up and + laved her burning eyes. Then she sat by the window. The storm's strength + was spent at last; the rain grew lighter and lighter, until there was but + the sound of running water and the drip, drip on the tin roof of the + porch. Only the thunder rumbling in the distance marked the storm's + course; the chariots of the gods rolling further and further away, till + they finally ceased to be heard altogether. The clouds parted + majestically, and then, between great curtains of mist, the day-star was + seen shining in the east. + </p> + <p> + The night was hushed, and the peace that falls before dawn was upon the + wet, flat lands. Somewhere in the sodden grass a swamped cricket chirped. + From an outlying flange of the village a dog's howl rose mournfully; was + answered by another, far away, and by another and another. The sonorous + chorus rose above the village, died away, and quiet fell again. + </p> + <p> + Helen sat by the window, no comfort touching her heart. Tears coursed her + cheeks no longer, but her eyes were wide and staring, and her lips parted, + for the hush was broken by the far clamor of the court-house bell ringing + in the night. It rang, and rang, and rang, and rang. She could not + breathe. She threw open the window. The bell stopped. All was quiet once + more. The east was growing gray. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly out of the stillness there came the sound of a horse galloping + over a wet road. He was coming like mad. Some one for a doctor? No; the + horse-hoofs grew louder, coming out from the town, coming this way, coming + faster and faster, coming <i>here</i>. There was a splashing and trampling + in front of the house and a sharp “Whoa!” In the dim gray of first dawn + she made out a man on a foam-flecked horse. He drew up at the gate. + </p> + <p> + A window to the right of hers went screeching up. She heard the judge + clear his throat before he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? That's you, isn't it, Wiley? What is it?” He took a good deal + of time and coughed between the sentences. His voice was more than + ordinarily quiet, and it sounded husky. “What is it, Wiley?” + </p> + <p> + “Judge, what time did Mr. Harkless leave here last night and which way did + he go?” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. The judge turned away from the window. Minnie was + standing just outside his door. “It must have been about half-past nine, + wasn't it, father?” she called in a shaking voice. “And, you know, Helen + thought he went west.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiley!” The old man leaned from the sill again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” answered the man on horseback. + </p> + <p> + “Wiley, he left about half-past nine—just before the storm. They + think he went west.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged. Willetts is so upset he isn't sure of anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiley!” The old man's voice shook; Minnie began to cry aloud. The + horseman wheeled about and turned his animal's head toward town. “Wiley!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Wiley, they haven't—you don't think they've got him?” + </p> + <p> + “By God, judge,” said the man on horseback, “I'm afraid they have!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE COURT-HOUSE BELL + </h2> + <p> + The court-house bell ringing in the night! No hesitating stroke of + Schofields' Henry, no uncertain touch, was on the rope. A loud, wild, + hurried clamor pealing out to wake the country-side, a rapid <i>clang! + clang! clang!</i> that struck clear in to the spine. + </p> + <p> + The court-house bell had tolled for the death of Morton, of Garfield, of + Hendricks; had rung joy-peals of peace after the war and after political + campaigns; but it had rung as it was ringing now only three times; once + when Hibbard's mill burned, once when Webb Landis killed Sep Bardlock and + intrenched himself in the lumber-yard and would not be taken till he was + shot through and through, and once when the Rouen accommodation was + wrecked within twenty yards of the station. + </p> + <p> + Why was the bell ringing now? Men and women, startled into wide + wakefulness, groped to windows—no red mist hung over town or + country. What was it? The bell rang on. Its loud alarm beat increasingly + into men's hearts and quickened their throbbing to the rapid measure of + its own. Vague forms loomed in the gloaming. A horse, wildly ridden, + splashed through the town. There were shouts; voices called hoarsely. + Lamps began to gleam in the windows. Half-clad people emerged from their + houses, men slapping their braces on their shoulders as they ran out of + doors. Questions were shouted into the dimness. + </p> + <p> + Then the news went over the town. + </p> + <p> + It was cried from yard to yard, from group to group, from gate to gate, + and reached the furthermost confines. Runners shouted it as they sped by; + boys panted it, breathless; women with loosened hair stumbled into + darkling chambers and faltered it out to new-wakened sleepers; pale girls + clutching wraps at their throats whispered it across fences; the sick, + tossing on their hard beds, heard it. The bell clamored it far and near; + it spread over the country-side; it flew over the wires to distant cities. + The White-Caps had got Mr. Harkless! + </p> + <p> + Lige Willetts had lost track of him out near Briscoes', it was said, and + had come in at midnight seeking him. He had found Parker, the “Herald” + foreman, and Ross Schofield, the typesetter, and Bud Tipworthy, the devil, + at work in the printing-room, but no sign of Harkless, there or in the + cottage. Together these had sought for him and had roused others, who had + inquired at every house where he might have gone for shelter, and they had + heard nothing. They had watched for his coming during the slackening of + the storm and he had not come, and there was nowhere he could have gone. + He was missing; only one thing could have happened. + </p> + <p> + They had roused up Warren Smith, the prosecutor, the missing editor's most + intimate friend in Carlow, and Homer, the sheriff, and Jared Wiley, the + deputy. William Todd had rung the alarm. The first thing to do was to find + him. After that there would be trouble—if not before. It looked as + if there would be trouble before. The men tramping up to the muddy Square + in their shirt-sleeves were bulgy about the right hips; and when Homer + Tibbs joined Lum Landis at the hotel corner, and Landis saw that Homer was + carrying a shot-gun, Landis went back for his. A hastily sworn posse + galloped out Main Street. Women and children ran into neighbors' yards and + began to cry. Day was coming; and, as the light grew, men swore and + savagely kicked at the palings of fences that they passed. + </p> + <p> + In the foreglow of dawn they gathered in the Square and listened to Warren + Smith, who made a speech from the court-house fence and warned them to go + slow. They answered him with angry shouts and hootings, but he made his + big voice heard, and bade them do nothing rash; no facts were known, he + said; it was far from certain that harm had been done, and no one knew + that the Six-Cross-Roads people had done it—even if something had + happened to Mr. Harkless. He declared that he spoke in Harkless's name. + Nothing could distress <i>him</i> so much as for them to defy the law, to + take it out of the proper hands. Justice would be done. + </p> + <p> + “Yes it will!” shouted a man below him, brandishing the butt of a raw-hide + whip above his head. “And while you jaw on about it here, he may be tied + up like a dog in the woods, shot full of holes by the men you never lifted + a finger to hender, because you want their votes when you run for circuit + judge. What are we doin' <i>here</i>? What's the good of listening to + you?” + </p> + <p> + There was a yell at this, and those who heard the speaker would probably + have started for the Cross-Roads without further parley, had not a rumor + sprung up, which passed so rapidly from man to man that within five + minutes it was being turbulently discussed in every portion of the crowd. + The news came that the two shell-gamblers had wrenched a bar out of a + window under cover of the storm, had broken jail, and were at large. Their + threats of the day before were remembered now, with convincing vividness. + They had sworn repeatedly to Bardlock and to the sheriff, and in the + hearing of others, that they would “do” for the man who took their money + from them and had them arrested. The prosecuting attorney, quickly + perceiving the value of this complication in holding back the mob that was + already forming, called Homer from the crowd and made him get up on the + fence and confess that his prisoners had escaped—at what time he did + not know, probably toward the beginning of the storm, when it was + noisiest. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” cried the attorney, “there is nothing as yet of which we can + accuse the Cross-Roads. If our friend has been hurt, it is much more + likely that these crooks did it. They escaped in time to do it, and we all + know they were laying for him. You want to be mighty careful, + fellow-citizens. Homer is already in telegraphic communication with every + town around here, and we'll have those men before night. All you've got to + do is to control yourselves a little and go home quietly.” He could see + that his words (except those in reference to returning home—no one + was going home) made an impression. There rose a babble of shouting and + argument and swearing that grew continually louder, and the faces the + lawyer looked down on were creased with perplexity, and shadowed with an + anger that settled darker and darker. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ephraim Watts, in spite of all confusion, clad as carefully as upon + the preceding day, deliberately climbed the fence and stood by the lawyer + and made a single steady gesture with his hand. He was listened to at + once, as his respect for the law was less notorious than his irreverence + for it, and he had been known in Carlow as a customarily reckless man. + They wanted illegal and desperate advice, and quieted down to hear it. He + spoke in his professionally calm voice. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, it seems to me that Mr. Smith and Mr. Ribshaw” (nodding to the + man with the rawhide whip) “are both right. What good are we doing here? + What we want to know is what's happened to Mr. Harkless. It looks just now + like the shell-men might have done it. Let's find out what they done. + Scatter and hunt for him. 'Soon as anything is known for certain, + Hibbard's mill whistle will blow three times. Keep on looking till it + does. <i>Then</i>” he finished, with a barely perceptible scornful smile + at the attorney, “<i>then</i> we can decide on what had ought to be done.” + </p> + <p> + Six-Cross-Roads lay dark and steaming in the sun that morning. The forge + was silent, the saloon locked up, the roadway deserted, even by the pigs. + The broken old buggy stood rotting in the mud without a single lean, + little old man or woman—such were the children of the Cross-Roads—to + play about it. The fields were empty, and the rag-stuffed windows blank, + under the baleful glance of the horsemen who galloped by at intervals, + muttering curses, not always confining themselves to muttering them. Once, + when the deputy sheriff rode through alone, a tattered black hound, more + wolf than dog, half-emerged, growling, from beneath one of the tumble-down + barns, and was jerked back into the darkness by his tail, with a snarl + fiercer than his own, while a gun-barrel shone for a second as it swung + for a stroke on the brute's head. The hound did not yelp or whine when the + blow fell. He shut his eyes twice, and slunk sullenly back to his place. + </p> + <p> + The shanties might have received a volley or two from some of the mounted + bands, exasperated by futile searching, had not the escape of Homer's + prisoners made the guilt of the Cross-Roads appear doubtful in the minds + of many. As the morning waned, the advocates of the theory that the + gamblers had made away with Harkless grew in number. There came a telegram + from the Rouen chief of police that he had a clew to their whereabouts; he + thought they had succeeded in reaching Rouen, and it began to be generally + believed that they had escaped by the one-o'clock freight, which had + stopped to take on some empty cars at a side-track a mile northwest of the + town, across the fields from the Briscoe house. Toward noon a party went + out to examine the railroad embankment. + </p> + <p> + Men began to come back into the village for breakfast by twos and threes, + though many kept on searching the woods, not feeling the need of food, or + caring if they did. Every grove and clump of underbrush, every thicket, + was ransacked; the waters of the creek, shallow for the most part, but + swollen overnight, were dragged at every pool. Nothing was found; there + was not a sign. + </p> + <p> + The bar of the hotel was thronged all morning as the returning citizens + rapidly made their way thither, and those who had breakfasted and were + going out again paused for internal, as well as external, reinforcement. + The landlord, himself returned from a long hunt, set up his whiskey with a + lavish hand. + </p> + <p> + “He was the best man we had, boys,” said Landis, as he poured the little + glasses full. “We'd ort of sent him to the legislative halls of Washington + long ago. He'd of done us honor there; but we never thought of doin' + anything fer him; jest set 'round and let him build up the town and give + him empty thankyes. Drink hearty, gentlemen,” he finished, gloomily, “I + don't grudge no liquor to-day—except to Lige Willetts.” + </p> + <p> + “He was a good man,” said young William Todd, whose nose was red, not from + the whiskey. “I've about give up.” + </p> + <p> + Schofields' Henry drew his sleeve across his eyes. “He was the only man in + this whole city that didn't jab and nag at me when I done my best,” he + exclaimed, with an increasing break in his utterance. “Many a good word + I've had from him when nobody in town done nothin' but laugh an' rile an' + badger me about my—my bell.” And Schofields' Henry began to cry + openly. + </p> + <p> + “He was a great hand with the chuldern,” said one man. “Always have + something to say to 'em to make 'em laugh when he went by. 'Talk more to + them 'n he would to grown folks. Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “They knowed <i>him</i> all right,” added another. “I reckon all of us + did, little and big.” + </p> + <p> + “It's goin' to seem mighty empty around here,” said Ross Schofield. + “What's goin' to become o' the 'Herald' and the party in this district? + Where's the man to run either of 'em now. Like as not,” he concluded + desperately, “the election'll go against us in the fall.” + </p> + <p> + Dibb Zane choked over his four fingers. “We might's well bust up this + dab-dusted ole town ef he's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what's come over that Cynthy Tipworthy,” said the landlord. + “She's waited table on him last two year, and her brother Bud works at the + 'Herald' office. She didn't say a word—only looked and looked and + looked—like a crazy woman; then her and Bud went off together to + hunt in the woods. They just tuck hold of each other's hands like——” + </p> + <p> + “That ain't nothin',” Homer Tibbs broke in. “You'd ort to've saw old Miz + Hathaway, that widder woman next door to us, when she heard it. He had + helped her to git her pension; and she tuck on worse 'n' anything I ever + hear—lot worse 'n' when Hathaway died.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon there ain't many crazier than them two Bowlders, father and + son,” said the postmaster, wiping the drops from his beard as he set his + glass on the bar. “They rid into town like a couple of wild Indians, the + old man beatin' that gray mare o' theirn till she was one big welt, and he + ain't natcherly no cruel man, either. I reckon Lige Willetts better keep + out of Hartley's way.” + </p> + <p> + “I keep out of no man's way,” cried a voice behind him. Turning, they saw + Lige standing on the threshold of the door that led to the street. In his + hand he held the bridle of the horse he had ridden across the sidewalk, + and that now stood panting, with lowered head, half through the doorway, + beside his master. Lige was hatless, splashed with mud from head to foot; + his jaw was set, his teeth ground together; his eyes burned under red + lids, and his hair lay tossed and damp on his brow. “I keep out of no + man's way,” he repeated, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you, Mr. Tibbs, but I've got too much to do, while you loaf and + gas and drink over Lum Landis's bar—I've got other business than + keeping out of Hartley Bowlder's way. I'm looking for John Harkless. He + was the best man we had in this ornery hole, and he was too good for us, + and so we've maybe let him get killed, and maybe I'm to blame. But I'm + going to find him, and if he's hurt—damn <i>me</i>! I'm going to + have a hand on the rope that lifts the men that did it, if I have to go to + Rouen to put it there! After that I'll answer for my fault, not before!” + </p> + <p> + He threw himself on his horse and was gone. Soon the room was emptied, as + the patrons of the bar returned to the search, and only Mr. Wilkerson and + the landlord remained, the bar being the professional office, so to speak, + of both. + </p> + <p> + Wilkerson had a chair in a corner, where he sat chanting a funeral march + in a sepulchral murmur, allowing a parenthetical <i>hic</i> to punctuate + the dirge in place of the drum. Whenever a batch of newcomers entered, he + rose to drink with them; and, at such times, after pouring off his liquor + with a rich melancholy, shedding tears after every swallow, he would make + an exploring tour of the room on his way back to his corner, stopping to + look under each chair inquiringly and ejaculate: “Why, where kin he be!” + Then, shaking his head, he would observe sadly: “Fine young man, he was, + too; fine young man. Pore fellow! I reckon we hain't a-goin' to git him.” + </p> + <p> + At eleven o'clock. Judge Briscoe dropped wearily from his horse at his own + gate, and said to a wan girl who came running down the walk to meet him: + “There is nothing, yet. I sent the telegram to your mother—to Mrs. + Sherwood.” + </p> + <p> + Helen turned away without answering. Her face was very white and looked + pinched about the mouth. She went back to where old Fisbee sat on the + porch, his white head held between his two hands; he was rocking himself + to and fro. She touched him gently, but he did not look up. She spoke to + him. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't anything—yet. He sent the telegram to mamma. I shall + stay with you, now, no matter what you say.” She sat beside him and put + her head down on his shoulder, and though for a moment he appeared not to + notice it, when Minnie came out on the porch, hearing her father at the + door, the old scholar had put his arm about the girl and was stroking her + fair hair softly. + </p> + <p> + Briscoe glanced at them, and raised a warning finger to his daughter, and + they went tiptoeing into the house, where the judge dropped heavily upon a + sofa with an asthmatic sigh; he was worn and tired. Minnie stood before + him with a look of pale inquiry, and he shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No use to tell <i>them</i>; but I can't see any hope,” he answered her, + biting nervously at the end of a cigar. “I expect you better bring me some + coffee in here; I couldn't take another step to save me. I'm too old to + tear around the country horseback before breakfast, like I have to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you send her telegram?” Minnie asked, as he drank the coffee she + brought him. She had interpreted “coffee” liberally, and, with the + assistance of Mildy Upton (whose subdued nose was frankly red and who shed + tears on the raspberries), had prepared an appetizing table at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” responded the judge, “and I'm glad she sent it. I talked the other + way yesterday, what little I said—it isn't any of our business—but + I don't think any too much of those people, somehow. She thinks she + belongs with Fisbee, and I guess she's right. That young fellow must have + got along with her pretty well, and I'm afraid when she gives up she'll be + pretty bad over it; but I guess we all will. It's terribly sudden, + somehow, though it's only what everybody half expected would come; only we + thought it would come from over yonder.” He nodded toward the west. “But + she's got to stay here with us. Boarding at Sol Tibbs's with that old man + won't do; and she's no girl to live in two rooms. You fix it up with her—you + make her stay.” + </p> + <p> + “She must,” answered his daughter as she knelt beside him and patted his + coat and handed him several things to eat at the same time. “Mr. Fisbee + will help me persuade her, now that she's bound to stay in spite of him + and the Sherwoods, too. I think she is perfectly grand to do it. I've + always thought she was grand—ever since she took me under her wing + at school when I was terribly 'country' and frightened; but she was so + sweet and kind she made me forget. She was the pet of the school, too, + always doing things for the other girls, for everybody; looking out for + people simply heads and heads bigger than herself, and so recklessly + generous and so funny about it; and always thoughtful and—and—pleasant——” + </p> + <p> + Minnie was speaking sadly, mechanically; but suddenly she broke off with a + quick sob, sprang up and went to the window; then, turning, cried out: + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it! He knew how to take care of himself too well. He'd + have got away from them.” + </p> + <p> + Her father shook his head. “Then why hasn't he turned up? He'd have gone + home after the storm if something bad wasn't the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “But nothing—nothing <i>that</i> bad could have happened. They + haven't found—any—anything.” + </p> + <p> + “But why hasn't he come back, child?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he's lying hurt somewhere, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why haven't they found him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care!” she cried, and choked with the words and tossed her + dishevelled hair from her temples; “it isn't true. Helen won't believe it—why + should I? It's only a few hours since he was right here in our yard, + talking to us all. I won't believe it till they've searched every stick + and stone of Six-Cross-Roads and found him.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't the Cross-Roads,” said the old gentleman, pushing the table + away and relaxing his limbs on the sofa. “They probably didn't have + anything to do with it. We thought they had at first, but everybody's + about come to believe it was those two devils that he had arrested + yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the Cross-Roads!” echoed Minnie, and she began to tremble violently. + “Haven't they been out there yet?” + </p> + <p> + “What use? They are out of it, and they can thank God they are!” + </p> + <p> + “They are not!” she cried excitedly. “They did it. It was the White-Caps. + We saw them, Helen and I.” + </p> + <p> + The judge got upon his feet with an oath. He had not sworn for years until + that morning. “What's this?” he said sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to have told you before, but we were so frightened, and—and + you went off in such a rush after Mr. Wiley was here. I never dreamed + everybody wouldn't know it was the Cross-Roads; that they would <i>think</i> + of any one else. And I looked for the scarecrow as soon as it was light + and it was 'way off from where we saw them, and wasn't blown down at all, + and Helen saw them in the field besides—saw all of them——” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted her. “What do you mean? Try to tell me about it quietly, + child.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + She told him breathlessly (while he grew more and more visibly perturbed + and uneasy, biting his cigar to pieces and groaning at intervals) what she + and Helen had seen in the storm. When she finished he took a few quick + turns about the room with his hands thrust deep in his coat pockets, and + then, charging her to repeat the story to no one, left the house, and, + forgetting his fatigue, rapidly crossed the fields to the point where the + bizarre figures of the night had shown themselves to the two girls at the + window. + </p> + <p> + The soft ground had been trampled by many feet. The boot-prints pointed to + the northeast. He traced them backward to the southwest through the field, + and saw where they had come from near the road, going northeast. Then, + returning, he climbed the fence and followed them northward through the + next field. From there, the next, beyond the road that was a continuation + of Main Street, stretched to the railroad embankment. The track, raggedly + defined in trampled loam and muddy furrow, bent in a direction which + indicated that its terminus might be the switch where the empty cars had + stood last night, waiting for the one-o'clock freight. Though the fields + had been trampled down in many places by the searching parties, he felt + sure of the direction taken by the Cross-Roads men, and he perceived that + the searchers had mistaken the tracks he followed for those of earlier + parties in the hunt. On the embankment he saw a number of men, walking + west and examining the ground on each side, and a long line of people + following them out from town. He stopped. He held the fate of + Six-Cross-Roads in his hand and he knew it. + </p> + <p> + He knew that if he spoke, his evidence would damn the Cross-Roads, and + that it meant that more than the White-Caps would be hurt, for the + Cross-Roads would fight. If he had believed that the dissemination of his + knowledge could have helped Harkless, he would have called to the men near + him at once; but he had no hope that the young man was alive. They would + not have dragged him out to their shanties wounded, or as a prisoner; such + a proceeding would have courted detection, and, also, they were not that + kind; they had been “looking for him” a long time, and their one idea was + to kill him. + </p> + <p> + And Harkless, for all his gentleness, was the sort of man, Briscoe + believed, who would have to be killed before he could be touched. Of one + thing the old gentleman was sure; the editor had not been tied up and + whipped while yet alive. In spite of his easy manners and geniality, there + was a dignity in him that would have made him kill and be killed before + the dirty fingers of a Cross-Roads “White-Cap” could have been laid upon + him in chastisement. A great many good Americans of Carlow who knew him + well always Mistered him as they would have Mistered only an untitled + Morton or Hendricks who might have lived amongst them. He was the only man + the old darky, Uncle Xenophon, had ever addressed as “Marse” since he came + to Plattville, thirty years ago. + </p> + <p> + Briscoe considered it probable that a few people were wearing bandages, in + the closed shanties over to the west to-day. A thought of the number they + had brought against one man; a picture of the unequal struggle, of the + young fellow he had liked so well, unarmed and fighting hopelessly in a + trap, and a sense of the cruelty of it, made the hot anger surge up in his + breast, and he started on again. Then he stopped once more. Though long + retired from faithful service on the bench, he had been all his life a + serious exponent of the law, and what he went to tell meant lawlessness + that no one could hope to check. He knew the temper of the people; their + long suffering was at an end, and they would go over at last and wipe out + the Cross-Roads. It depended on him. If the mob could be held off over + to-day, if men's minds could cool over night, the law could strike and the + innocent and the hotheaded be spared from suffering. He would wait; he + would lay his information before the sheriff; and Horner would go quietly + with a strong posse, for he would need a strong one. He began to retrace + his steps. + </p> + <p> + The men on the embankment were walking slowly, bending far over, their + eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly one of them stood erect and tossed his + arms in the air and shouted loudly. Other men ran to him, and another far + down the track repeated the shout and the gesture to another far in his + rear; this man took it up, and shouted and waved to a fourth man, and so + they passed the signal back to town. There came, almost immediately three + long, loud whistles from a mill near the station, and the embankment grew + black with people pouring out from town, while the searchers came running + from the fields and woods and underbrush on both sides of the railway. + </p> + <p> + Briscoe paused for the last time; then he began to walk slowly toward the + embankment. + </p> + <p> + The track lay level and straight, not dimming in the middle distances, the + rails converging to points, both northwest and southeast, in the + clean-washed air, like examples of perspective in a child's drawing-book. + About seventy miles to the west and north lay Rouen; and, in the same + direction, nearly six miles from where the signal was given, the track was + crossed by a road leading directly south to Six-Cross-Roads. + </p> + <p> + The embankment had been newly ballasted with sand. What had been + discovered was a broad brown stain on the south slope near the top. There + were smaller stains above and below; none beyond it to left or right; and + there were deep boot-prints in the sand. Men were examining the place + excitedly, talking and gesticulating. It was Lige Willetts who had found + it. His horse was tethered to a fence near by, at the end of a lane + through a cornfield. Jared Wiley, the deputy, was talking to a group near + the stain, explaining. + </p> + <p> + “You see them two must have knowed about the one-o'clock freight, and that + it was to stop here to take on the empty lumber cars. I don't know how + they knowed it, but they did. It was this way: when they dropped from the + window, they beat through the storm, straight for this side-track. At the + same time Mr. Harkless leaves Briscoes' goin' west. It begins to rain. He + cuts across to the railroad to have a sure footing, and strikin' for the + deepo for shelter—near place as any except Briscoes' where he'd said + good-night already and prob'ly don't wish to go back, 'fear of givin' + trouble or keepin' 'em up—anybody can understand that. He comes + along, and gets to where we are precisely at the time <i>they</i> do, them + comin' from town, him strikin' for it. They run right into each other. + That's what happened. They re-<i>cog</i>-nized him and raised up on him + and let him have it. What they done it with, I don't know; we took + everything in that line off of 'em; prob'ly used railroad iron; and what + they done with him afterwards we don't know; but we will by night. They'll + sweat it out of 'em up at Rouen when they get 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon maybe some of us might help,” remarked Mr. Watts, reflectively. + </p> + <p> + Jim Bardlock swore a violent oath. “That's the talk!” he shouted. “Ef I + ain't the first man of this crowd to set my foot in Roowun, an' first to + beat in that jail door, an' take 'em out an' hang 'em by the neck till + they're dead, dead, dead, I'm not Town Marshal of Plattville, County of + Carlow, State of Indiana, and the Lord have mercy on our souls!” + </p> + <p> + Tom Martin looked at the brown stain and quickly turned away; then he went + back slowly to the village. On the way he passed Warren Smith. + </p> + <p> + “Is it so?” asked the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + Martin answered with a dry throat. He looked out dimly over the sunlit + fields, and swallowed once or twice. “Yes, it's so. There's a good deal of + it there. Little more than a boy he was.” The old fellow passed his seamy + hand over his eyes without concealment. “Peter ain't very bright, + sometimes, it seems to me,” he added, brokenly; “overlook Bodeffer and + Fisbee and me and all of us old husks, and—and—” he gulped + suddenly, then finished—“and act the fool and take a boy that's the + best we had. I wish the Almighty would take Peter off the gate; he ain't + fit fer it.” + </p> + <p> + When the attorney reached the spot where the crowd was thickest, way was + made for him. The old colored man, Xenophon, approached at the same time, + leaning on a hickory stick and bent very far over, one hand resting on his + hip as if to ease a rusty joint. The negro's age was an incentive to + fable; from his appearance he might have known the prophets, and he wore + that hoary look of unearthly wisdom many decades of superstitious + experience sometimes give to members of his race. His face, so tortured + with wrinkles that it might have been made of innumerable black threads + woven together, was a living mask of the mystery of his blood. Harkless + had once said that Uncle Xenophon had visited heaven before Swedenborg and + hell before Dante. To-day, as he slowly limped over the ties, his eyes + were bright and dry under the solemn lids, and, though his heavy nostrils + were unusually distended in the effort for regular breathing, the deeply + puckered lips beneath them were set firmly. + </p> + <p> + He stopped and looked at the faces before him. When he spoke his voice was + gentle, and though the tremulousness of age harped on the vocal strings, + it was rigidly controlled. “Kin some kine gelmun,” he asked, “please t'be + so good ez t' show de ole main whuh de W'ite-Caips is done shoot Marse + Hawkliss?” + </p> + <p> + “Here was where it happened, Uncle Zen,” answered Wiley, leaning him + forward. “Here is the stain.” + </p> + <p> + Xenophon bent over the spot on the sand, making little odd noises in his + throat. Then he painfully resumed his former position. “Dass his blood,” + he said, in the same gentle, quavering tone. “Dass my bes' frien' whut lay + on de groun' whuh yo staind, gelmun.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, and no one spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Dass whuh day laid 'im an' dass whuh he lie,” the old negro continued. + “Dey shot 'im in de fiels. Dey ain' shot 'im hear-yondeh dey drugged 'im, + but dis whuh he lie.” He bent over again, then knelt, groaningly, and + placed his hand on the stain, one would have said, as a man might place + his hand over a heart to see if it still beat. He was motionless, with the + air of hearkening. + </p> + <p> + “Marse, honey, is you gone?” He raised his voice as if calling, “Is you + gone, suh?—Marse?” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at the circle about him, and, still kneeling, not taking his + hand from the sand, seeming to wait for a sign, to listen for a voice, he + said: “Whafo' you gelmun think de good Lawd summon Marse Hawkliss? Kaze he + de mos' fittes'? You know dat man he ketch me in de cole night, wintuh + 'to' lais', stealin' 'is wood. You know whut he done t'de ole thief? Tek + an' bull' up big fiah een ole Zen' shainty; say, 'He'p yo'se'f an' + welcome. Reckon you hongry, too, ain' you, Xenophon?' Tek an' feed me. Tek + an' tek keer o' me ev' since. Ah pump de baith full in de mawin'; mek 'is + bed; pull de weeds out'n of de front walk—dass all. He tek me in. + When Ah aisk 'im ain' he fraid keep ole thief he say, jesso: 'Dass all my + fault, Xenophon; ought look you up long 'go; ought know long 'go you be + cole dese baid nights. Reckon Ahm de thievenest one us two, Xenophon, + keepin' all dis wood stock' up when you got none,' he say, jesso. Tek me + in; say he <i>lahk</i> a thief. Pay me sala'y. Feed me. Dass de main whut + de Caips gone shot lais' night.” He raised his head sharply, and the + mystery in his gloomy eyes intensified as they opened wide and stared at + the sky, unseeingly. + </p> + <p> + “Ise bawn wid a cawl!” he exclaimed, loudly. His twisted frame was braced + to an extreme tension. “Ise bawn wid a cawl! De blood anssuh!” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't the Cross-Roads, Uncle Xenophon,” said Warren Smith, laying his + hand on the old man's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Xenophon rose to his feet. He stretched a long, bony arm straight to the + west, where the Cross-Roads lay; stood rigid and silent, like a seer; then + spoke: + </p> + <p> + “De men whut shot Marse Hawkliss lies yondeh, hidin' f'um de light o' day. + An' <i>him</i>”—he swerved his whole rigid body till the arm pointed + northwest—“he lies yondeh. You won't find him heah. Dey fought 'im + een de fiel's an' dey druggen 'im heah. Dis whim dey lay 'im down. Ise + bawn wid a cawl!” + </p> + <p> + There were exclamations from the listeners, for Xenophon spoke as one + having authority. Suddenly he turned and pointed his outstretched hand + full at Judge Briscoe. + </p> + <p> + “An' dass de main,” he cried, “dass de main kin tell you Ah speak de + trufe.” + </p> + <p> + Before he was answered, Eph Watts looked at Briscoe keenly and then turned + to Lige Willetts and whispered: “Get on your horse, ride in, and ring the + court-house bell like the devil. Do as I say!” + </p> + <p> + Tears stood in the judge's eyes. “It is so,” he said, solemnly. “He speaks + the truth. I didn't mean to tell it to-day, but somehow—” He paused. + “The hounds!” he cried. “They deserve it! My daughter saw them crossing + the fields in the night—saw them climb the fence, hoods, gowns, and + all, a big crowd of them. She and the lady who is visiting us saw them, + saw them plainly. The lady saw them several times, clear as day, by the + flashes of lightning—the scoundrels were coming this way. They must + have been dragging him with them then. He couldn't have had a show for his + life amongst them. Do what you like—maybe they've got him at the + Cross-Roads. If there's a chance of it—dead or alive—bring him + back!” + </p> + <p> + A voice rang out above the clamor that followed the judge's speech. + </p> + <p> + “'Bring him back!' God could, maybe, but He won't. Who's travelling my + way? I go west!” Hartley Bowlder had ridden his sorrel up the embankment, + and the horse stood between the rails. There was an angry roar from the + crowd; the prosecutor pleaded and threatened unheeded; and as for the + deputy sheriff, he declared his intention of taking with him all who + wished to go as his posse. Eph Watts succeeded in making himself heard + above the tumult. + </p> + <p> + “The Square!” he shouted. “Start from the Square. We want everybody, and + we'll need them. We want every one in Carlow to be implicated in this + posse.” + </p> + <p> + “They will be!” shouted a farmer. “Don't you worry about that.” + </p> + <p> + “We want to get into some sort of shape,” cried Eph. + </p> + <p> + “Shape, hell!” said Hartley Bowlder. + </p> + <p> + There was a hiss and clang and rattle behind him, and a steam whistle + shrieked. The crowd divided, and Hartley's sorrel jumped just in time as + the westbound accommodation rushed through on its way to Rouen. From the + rear platform leaned the sheriff, Horner, waving his hands frantically as + he flew by, but no one understood—or cared—what he said, or, + in the general excitement, even wondered why he was leaving the scene of + his duty at such a time. When the train had dwindled to a dot and + disappeared, and the noise of its rush grew faint, the court-house bell + was heard ringing, and the mob was piling pell-mell into the village to + form on the Square. The judge stood alone on the embankment. + </p> + <p> + “That settles it,” he said aloud, gloomily, watching the last figures. He + took off his hat and pushed back the thick, white hair from his forehead. + “Nothing to do but wait. Might as well go home for that. Blast it!” he + exclaimed, impatiently. “I don't want to go there. It's too hard on the + little girl. If she hadn't come till next week she'd never have known John + Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. JOHN BROWN'S BODY + </h2> + <p> + All morning horsemen had been galloping through Six-Cross-Roads, sometimes + singly, oftener in company. At one-o'clock the last posse passed through + on its return to the county-seat, and after that there was a long, + complete silence, while the miry corners were undisturbed by a single + hoof-beat. No unkempt colt nickered from his musty stall; the sparse young + corn that was used to rasp and chuckle greenly stood rigid in the fields. + Up the Plattville pike despairingly cackled one old hen, with her wabbling + sailor run, smit with a superstitious horror of nothing, in the stillness; + she hid herself in the shadow underneath a rickety barn, and her shrieking + ceased. + </p> + <p> + Only on the Wimby farm were there signs of life. The old lady who had sent + Harkless roses sat by the window all morning and wiped her eyes, watching + the horsemen ride by; sometimes they would hail her and tell her there was + nothing yet. About two-o'clock, her husband rattled up in a buckboard, and + got out the late, and more authentic, Mr. Wimby's shot-gun, which he + carefully cleaned and oiled, in spite of its hammerless and quite useless + condition, sitting, meanwhile, by the window opposite his wife, and often + looking up from his work to shake his weak fist at his neighbors' + domiciles and creak decrepit curses and denunciations. + </p> + <p> + But the Cross-Roads was ready. It knew what was coming now. Frightened, + desperate, sullen, it was ready. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon wore on, and lengthening shadows fell upon a peaceful—one + would have said, a sleeping—country. The sun-dried pike, already + dusty, stretched its serene length between green borders flecked with + purple and yellow and white weedflowers; and the tree shadows were not + shade, but warm blue and lavender glows in the general pervasion of still, + bright light, the sky curving its deep, unburnished, penetrable blue over + all, with no single drift of fleece upon it to be reflected in the creek + that wound along past willow and sycamore. A woodpecker's telegraphy broke + the quiet like a volley of pistol shots. + </p> + <p> + But far eastward on the pike there slowly developed a soft, white haze. It + grew denser and larger. Gradually it rolled nearer. Dimly behind it could + be discerned a darker, moving nucleus that extended far back upon the + road. A heavy tremor began to stir the air—faint manifold sounds, a + waxing, increasing, multitudinous rumor. + </p> + <p> + The pike ascended a long, slight slope leading west up to the Cross-Roads. + From a thicket of iron-weed at the foot of this slope was thrust the hard, + lean visage of an undersized girl of fourteen. Her fierce eyes examined + the approaching cloud of dust intently. A redness rose under the burnt + yellow skin and colored the wizened cheeks. + </p> + <p> + They were coming. + </p> + <p> + She stepped quickly out of the tangle, and darted up the road, running + with the speed of a fleet little terrier, not opening her lips, not + calling out, but holding her two thin hands high above her head. That was + all. But Birnam wood was come to Dunsinane at last, and the messenger + sped. Out of the weeds in the corners of the snake fence, in the upper + part of the rise, silently lifted the heads of men whose sallowness became + a sickish white as the child flew by. + </p> + <p> + The mob was carefully organized. They had taken their time and had + prepared everything deliberately, knowing that nothing could stop them. No + one had any thought of concealment; it was all as open as the light of + day, all done in the broad sunshine. Nothing had been determined as to + what was to be done at the Cross-Roads more definite than that the place + was to be wiped out. That was comprehensive enough; the details were quite + certain to occur. They were all on foot, marching in fairly regular ranks. + In front walked Mr. Watts, the man Harkless had abhorred in a public + spirit and befriended in private—to-day he was a hero and a leader, + marching to avenge his professional oppressor and personal brother. Cool, + unruffled, and, to outward vision, unarmed, marching the miles in his + brown frock coat and generous linen, his carefully creased trousers neatly + turned up out of the dust, he led the way. On one side of him were the two + Bowlders, on the other was Lige Willetts, Mr. Watts preserving peace + between the two young men with perfect tact and sang-froid. + </p> + <p> + They kept good order and a similitude of quiet for so many, except far to + the rear, where old Wilkerson was bringing up the tail of the procession, + dragging a wretched yellow dog by a slip-noose fastened around the poor + cur's protesting neck, the knot carefully arranged under his right ear. In + spite of every command and protest, Wilkerson had marched the whole way + uproariously singing, “John Brown's Body.” + </p> + <p> + The sun was in the west when they came in sight of the Cross-Roads, and + the cabins on the low slope stood out angularly against the radiance + beyond. As they beheld the hated settlement, the heretofore orderly ranks + showed a disposition to depart from the steady advance and rush the + shanties. Willetts, the Bowlders, Parker, Ross, Schofield, and fifty + others did, in fact, break away and set a sharp pace up the slope. + </p> + <p> + Watts tried to call them back. “What's the use your gettin' killed?” he + shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” answered Lige, who, like the others, was increasing his speed + when old “Wimby” rose up suddenly from the roadside ahead of them, and + motioned them frantically to go back. “They're laid out along the fence, + waitin' fer ye,” he warned them. “Git out the road. Come by the fields. + Per the Lord's sake, spread!” Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he + dropped down into the weeds again. Lige and those with him paused, and the + whole body came to a halt while the leaders consulted. There was a sound + of metallic clicking and a thin rattle of steel. From far to the rear came + the voice of old Wilkerson: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground—” + </pre> + <p> + A few near him, as they stood waiting, began to take up the burden of the + song, singing in slow time like a dirge; then those further away took it + up; it spread, reached the leaders; they, too, began to sing, taking off + their hats as they joined in; and soon the whole concourse, solemn, + earnest, and uncovered, was singing—a thunderous requiem for John + Harkless. + </p> + <p> + The sun was swinging lower and the edges of the world were embroidered + with gold while that deep volume of sound shook the air, the song of a + stern, savage, just cause—sung, perhaps, as some of the ancestors of + these men sang with Hampden before the bristling walls of a hostile city. + It had iron and steel in it. The men lying on their guns in the ambuscade + along the fence heard the dirge rise and grow to its mighty fulness, and + they shivered. One of them, posted nearest the advance, had his rifle + carefully levelled at Lige Willetts, a fair target in the road. When he + heard the singing, he turned to the man next behind him and laughed + harshly: “I reckon we'll see a big jamboree in hell to-night, huh?” + </p> + <p> + The huge murmur of the chorus expanded, and gathered in rhythmic strength, + and swelled to power, and rolled and thundered across the plain. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + His soul goes marching on! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + His soul goes marching on!” + </pre> + <p> + A gun spat from the higher ground, and Willetts dropped where he stood, + but was up again in a second, with a red line across his forehead where + the ball had grazed his temple. Then the mob spread out like a fan, + hundreds of men climbing the fence and beginning the advance through the + fields, dosing on the ambuscade from both sides. Mr. Watts, wading through + the high grass in the field north of the road, perceived the barrel of a + gun shining from a bush some distance in front of him, and, although in + the same second no weapon was seen in his hand, discharged a revolver at + the bush behind the gun. Instantly ten or twelve men leaped from their + hiding-places along the fences of both fields, and, firing hurriedly and + harmlessly into the scattered ranks of the oncoming mob, broke for the + shelter of the houses, where their fellows were posted. Taken on the + flanks and from the rear, there was but one thing for them to do to keep + from being hemmed in and shot or captured. (They excessively preferred + being shot.) With a wild, high, joyous yell, sounding like the bay of + young hounds breaking into view of their quarry, the Plattville men + followed. + </p> + <p> + The most eastward of the debilitated edifices of Six-Cross-Roads was the + saloon, which bore the painted legends: on the west wall, “Last Chance”; + on the east wall, “First Chance.” Next to this, and separated by two or + three acres of weedy vacancy from the corners where the population centred + thickest, stood-if one may so predicate of a building which leaned in + seven directions-the house of Mr. Robert Skillett, the proprietor of the + saloon. Both buildings were shut up as tight as their state of repair + permitted. As they were furthest to the east, they formed the nearest + shelter, and to them the Cross-Roaders bent their flight, though they + stopped not here, but disappeared behind Skillett's shanty, putting it + between them and their pursuers, whose guns were beginning to speak. The + fugitives had a good start, and, being the picked runners of the + Cross-Roads, they crossed the open, weedy acres in safety and made for + their homes. Every house had become a fort, and the defenders would have + to be fought and torn out one by one. As the guns sounded, a woman in a + shanty near the forge began to scream, and kept on screaming. + </p> + <p> + On came the farmers and the men of Plattville. They took the saloon at a + run; battered down the crazy doors with a fence-rail, and swarmed inside + like busy insects, making the place hum like a hive, but with the hotter + industries of destruction. It was empty of life as a tomb, but they beat + and tore and battered and broke and hammered and shattered like madmen; + they reduced the tawdry interior to a mere chaos, and came pouring forth + laden with trophies of ruin. And then there was a charry smell in the air, + and a slender feather of smoke floated up from a second-story window. + </p> + <p> + At the same time Watts led an assault on the adjoining house—an + assault which came to a sudden pause, for, from cracks in the front wall, + a squirrel-rifle and a shot-gun snapped and banged, and the crowd fell + back in disorder. Homer Tibbs had a hat blown away, full of buck-shot + holes, while Mr. Watts solicitously examined a small aperture in the + skirts of his brown coat. The house commanded the road, and the rush of + the mob into the village was checked, but only for the instant. + </p> + <p> + A rickety woodshed, which formed a portion of the Skillett mansion, + closely joined the “Last Chance” side of the family place of business. + Scarcely had the guns of the defenders sounded, when, with a loud shout, + Lige Willetts leaped from an upper window on that side of the burning + saloon and landed on the woodshed, and, immediately climbing the roof of + the house itself, applied a fiery brand to the time-worn clapboards. Ross + Schofield dropped on the shed, close behind him, his arm lovingly + enfolding a gallon jug of whiskey, which he emptied (not without evident + regret) upon the clapboards as Lige fired them. Flames burst forth almost + instantly, and the smoke, uniting with that now rolling out of every + window of the saloon, went up to heaven in a cumbrous, gray column. + </p> + <p> + As the flames began to spread, there was a rapid fusillade from the rear + of the house, and a hundred men and more, who had kept on through the + fields to the north, assailed it from behind. Their shots passed clear + through the flimsy partitions, and there was a horrid screeching, like a + beast's howls, from within. The front door was thrown open, and a lean, + fierce-eyed girl, with a case-knife in her hand, ran out in the face of + the mob. At sound of the shots in the rear they had begun to advance on + the house a second time, and Hartley Bowlder was the nearest man to the + girl. With awful words, and shrieking inconceivably, she made straight at + Hartley, and attacked him with the knife. She struck at him again and + again, and, in her anguish of hate and fear, was so extraordinary a + spectacle that she gained for her companions the four or five seconds they + needed to escape from the house. As she hurled herself alone at the + oncoming torrent, they sped from the door unnoticed, sprang over the + fence, and reached the open lots to the west before they were seen by + Willetts from the roof. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let 'em fool you!” he shouted. “Look to I your left! There they go! + Don't let 'em get away.” + </p> + <p> + The Cross-Readers were running across the field. They were Bob Skillett + and his younger brother, and Mr. Skillett was badly damaged: he seemed to + be holding his jaw on his face with both hands. The girl turned, and sped + after them. She was over the fence almost as soon as they were, and the + three ran in single file, the girl last. She was either magnificently + sacrificial and fearless, or she cunningly calculated that the regulators + would take no chances of killing a woman-child, for she kept between their + guns and her two companions, trying to cover and shield the latter with + her frail body. + </p> + <p> + “Shoot, Lige,” called Watts. “If we fire from here we'll hit the girl. + Shoot!” + </p> + <p> + Willetts and Ross Schofield were still standing on the roof, at the edge, + out of the smoke, and both fired at the same time. The fugitives did not + turn; they kept on running, and they had nearly reached the other side of + the field, when suddenly, without any premonitory gesture, the elder + Skillett dropped flat on his face. The Cross-Roaders stood by each other + that day, for four or five men ran out of the nearest shanty into the + open, lifted the prostrate figure from the ground, and began to carry it + back with them. But Mr. Skillett was alive; his curses were heard above + all other sounds. Lige and Schofield fired again, and one of the rescuers + staggered. Nevertheless, as the two men slid down from the roof, the + burdened Cross-Readers were seen to break into a run; and at that, with + another yell, fiercer, wilder, more joyous than the first, the Plattville + men followed. + </p> + <p> + The yell rang loudly in the ears of old Wilkerson, who had remained back + in the road, and at the same instant he heard another shout behind him. + Mr. Wilkerson had not shared in the attack, but, greatly preoccupied with + his own histrionic affairs, was proceeding up the pike alone—except + for the unhappy yellow mongrel, still dragged along by the slip-noose—and + alternating, as was his natural wont, from one fence to the other; + crouching behind every bush to fire an imaginary rifle at his dog, and + then springing out, with triumphant bellowings, to fall prone upon the + terrified animal. It was after one of these victories that a shout of + warning was raised behind him, and Mr. Wilkerson, by grace of the god + Bacchus, rolling out of the way in time to save his life, saw a horse dash + by him—a big, black horse whose polished flanks were dripping with + lather. Warren Smith was the rider. He was waving a slip of yellow paper + high in the air. + </p> + <p> + He rode up the slope, and drew rein beyond the burning buildings, just + ahead of those foremost in the pursuit. He threw his horse across the road + to oppose their progress, rose in his stirrups, and waved the paper over + his head. “Stop!” he roared, “Give me one minute. Stop!” He had a grand + voice; and he was known in many parts of the State for the great bass roar + with which he startled his juries. To be heard at a distance most men lift + the pitch of their voices; Smith lowered his an octave or two, and the + result was like an earthquake playing an organ in a catacomb. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” he thundered. “Stop!” + </p> + <p> + In answer, one of the flying Cross-Roaders turned and sent a bullet + whistling close to him. The lawyer paused long enough to bow deeply in + satirical response; then, flourishing the paper, he roared again: “Stop! A + mistake! I have news! Stop, I say! Homer has got them!” + </p> + <p> + To make himself heard over that tempestuous advance was a feat; for him, + moreover, whose counsels had so lately been derided, to interest the + pursuers at such a moment enough to make them listen—to find the + word—was a greater; and by the word, and by gestures at once + vehemently imperious and imploring, to stop them was still greater; but he + did it. He had come at just the moment before the moment that would have + been too late. They all heard him. They all knew, too, he was not trying + to save the Cross-Roads as a matter of duty, because he had given that up + before the mob left Plattville. Indeed, it was a question if, at the last, + he had not tacitly approved; and no one feared indictments for the day's + work. It would do no harm to listen to what he had to say. The work could + wait; it would “keep” for five minutes. They began to gather around him, + excited, flushed, perspiring, and smelling of smoke. Hartley Bowlder, won + by Lige's desperation and intrepidity, was helping the latter tie up his + head; no one else was hurt. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” they clamored impatiently. “Speak quick!” There was another + harmless shot from a fugitive, and then the Cross-Roaders, divining that + the diversion was in their favor, secured themselves in their decrepit + fastnesses and held their fire. Meanwhile, the flames crackled cheerfully + in Plattville ears. No matter what the prosecutor had to say, at least the + Skillett saloon and homestead were gone, and Bob Skillett and one other + would be sick enough to be good for a while. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” cried Warren Smith, and, rising in his stirrups again, read the + missive in his hand, a Western Union telegraph form. “Warren Smith, + Plattville,” was the direction. “Found both shell-men. Police familiar + with both, and both wanted here. One arrested at noon in a second-hand + clothes store, wearing Harkless's hat, also trying dispose torn full-dress + coat known to have been worn by Harkless last night. Stains on lining + believed blood. Second man found later at freight-yards in empty lumber + car left Plattville 1 P.M., badly hurt, shot, and bruised. Supposed + Harkless made hard fight. Hurt man taken to hospital unconscious. Will + die. Hope able question him first and discover whereabouts body. Other man + refuses talk so far. Check any movement Cross-Roads. This clears Skillett, + etc. Come over on 9.15.” + </p> + <p> + The telegram was signed by Homer and by Barrett, the superintendent of + police at Rouen. + </p> + <p> + “It's all a mistake, boys,” the lawyer said, as he handed the paper to + Watts and Parker for inspection. “The ladies at the judge's were mistaken, + that's all, and this proves it. It's easy enough to understand: they were + frightened by the storm, and, watching a fence a quarter-mile away by + flashes of lightning, any one would have been confused, and imagined all + the horrors on earth. I don't deny but what I believed it for a while, and + I don't deny but the Cross-Roads is pretty tough, but you've done a good + deal here already, to-day, and we're saved in time from a mistake that + would have turned out mighty bad. This settles it. Homer got a wire from + Rouen to come over there, soon as they got track of the first man; that + was when we saw him on the Rouen accommodation.” + </p> + <p> + A slightly cracked voice, yet a huskily tuneful one, was lifted + quaveringly on the air from the roadside, where an old man and a yellow + dog sat in the dust together, the latter reprieved at the last moment, his + surprised head rakishly garnished with a hasty wreath of dog-fennel + daisies. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + While we go marching on!” + </pre> + <p> + Three-quarters of an hour later, the inhabitants of the Cross-Roads, + saved, they knew not how; guilty; knowing nothing of the fantastic + pendulum of opinion, which, swung by the events of the day, had marked the + fatal moment of guilt, now on others, now on them, who deserved it—these + natives and refugees, conscious of atrocity, dumfounded by a miracle, + thinking the world gone mad, hovered together in a dark, ragged mass at + the crossing corners, while the skeleton of the rotting buggy in the + slough rose behind them against the face of the west. They peered with + stupified eyes through the smoky twilight. + </p> + <p> + From afar, faintly through the gloaming, came mournfully to their ears the + many-voiced refrain—fainter, fainter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground. + John Brown's body lies—mould— + ..... we go march.... on.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. JERRY THE TELLER + </h2> + <p> + At midnight a small brougham stopped at the gates of the city hospital in + Rouen. A short distance ahead, the lamps of a cab, drawn up at the + curbing, made two dull orange sparks under the electric light swinging + over the street. A cigarette described a brief parabola as it was tossed + from the brougham, and a short young man jumped out and entered the gates, + then paused and spoke to the driver of the cab. + </p> + <h3> + “Did you bring Mr. Barrett here?” + </h3> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” answered the driver; “him and two other gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Lighting another cigarette, from which he drew but two inspirations before + he threw it away, the young man proceeded quickly up the walk. As he + ascended the short flight of steps which led to the main doors, he panted + a little, in a way which suggested that (although his white waistcoat + outlined an ellipse still respectable) a crescendo of portliness was + playing diminuendo with his youth. And, though his walk was brisk, it was + not lively. The expression of his very red face indicated that his + briskness was spurred by anxiety, and a fattish groan he emitted on the + top step added the impression that his comfortable body protested against + the mental spur. In the hall he removed his narrow-brimmed straw hat and + presented a rotund and amiable head, from the top of which his auburn hair + seemed to retire with a sense of defeat; it fell back, however, not in + confusion, but in perfect order, and the sparse pink mist left upon his + crown gave, by a supreme effort, an effect of arrangement, so that an + imaginative observer would have declared that there was a part down the + middle. The gentleman's plump face bore a grave and troubled expression, + and gravity and trouble were patent in all the lines of his figure and in + every gesture; in the way he turned his head; in the uneasy shifting of + his hat from one hand to the other and in his fanning himself with it in a + nervous fashion; and in his small, blue eyes, which did not twinkle behind + his rimless glasses and looked unused to not twinkling. His gravity + clothed him like an ill-fitting coat; or, possibly, he might have reminded + the imaginative observer, just now conjured up, of a music-box set to + turning its cylinder backwards. + </p> + <p> + He spoke to an attendant, and was directed to an office, which he entered + without delay. There were five men in the room, three of them engaged in + conversation near the door; another, a young surgeon, was writing at a + desk; the fifth drowsily nodding on a sofa. The newcomer bowed as he + entered. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Barrett?” he said inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + One of the men near the door turned about. “Yes, sir,” he answered, with a + stem disfavor of the applicant; a disfavor possibly a perquisite of his + office. “What's wanted?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I have met you,” returned the other. “My name is Meredith.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett probably did not locate the meeting, but the name proved an + open sesame to his geniality, for he melted at once, and saying: “Of + course, of course, Mr. Meredith; did you want a talk with me?” clasped the + young man's hand confidentially in his, and, with an appearance of + assuring him that whatever the atrocity which had occurred in the Meredith + household it should be discreetly handled and hushed up, indicated a + disposition to conduct him toward a more appropriate apartment for the + rehearsal of scandal. The young man accepted the hand-clasp with some + resignation, but rejected the suggestion of privacy. + </p> + <p> + “A telegram from Plattville reached me half an hour ago,” he said. “I + should have had it sooner, but I have been in the country all day.” + </p> + <p> + The two men who had been talking with the superintendent turned quickly, + and stared at the speaker. He went on: “Mr. Harkless was an old—and—” + He broke off, with a sudden, sharp choking, and for a moment was unable to + control an emotion that seemed, for some reason, as surprising and + unbefitting, in a person of his rubicund presence, as was his gravity. An + astonished tear glittered in the corner of his eye. The grief of the gayer + sorts of stout people appears, sometimes, to dumfound even themselves. The + young man took off his glasses and wiped them slowly. “—An old and + very dear friend of mine.” He replaced the glasses insecurely upon his + nose. “I telephoned to your headquarters, and they said you had come + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; yes, sir,” the superintendent of police responded, cheerfully. + “These two gentlemen are from Plattville; Mr. Smith just got in. They + mighty near had big trouble down there to-day, but I guess we'll settle + things for 'em up here. Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Mr. + Smith, and my friend, Mr. Homer. Gentlemen, my friend, Mr. Meredith, one + of our well-known citizens.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear it from the police, gentlemen,” added Mr. Meredith, perking up a + little. “I know Dr. Gay.” He nodded to the surgeon. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you have heard some of the circumstances—those that we've + given out,” said Barrett. + </p> + <p> + “I read the account in the evening paper. I had heard of Harkless, of + Carlow, before; but it never occurred to me that it was my friend—I + had heard he was abroad—until I got this telegram from a relative of + mine who happened to be down there.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the superintendent, “your friend made a mighty good fight + before he gave up. The Teller, that's the man we've got out here, he's so + hacked up and shot and battered his mother wouldn't know him, if she + wanted to; at least, that's what Gay, here, says. We haven't seen him, + because the doctors have been at him ever since he was found, and they + expect to do some more tonight, when we've had our interview with him, if + he lives long enough. One of my sergeants found him in, the freight-yards + about four-o'clock and sent him here in the ambulance; knew it was Teller, + because he was stowed away in one of the empty cars that came from + Plattville last night, and Slattery—that's his running mate, the one + we caught with the coat and hat—gave in that they beat their way on + that freight. I guess Slattery let this one do most of the fighting; he + ain't scratched; but Mr. Harkless certainly made it hot for the Teller.” + </p> + <p> + “My relative believes that Mr. Harkless is still alive,” said Meredith. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett permitted himself an indulgent smile. He had the air of having + long ago discovered everything which anybody might wish to know, and of + knowing a great deal which he held in reserve because it was necessary to + suppress many facts for a purpose far beyond his auditor's comprehension, + though a very simple matter to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, hardly, I expect,” he replied, easily. “No; he's hardly alive.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't say that,” said Meredith. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid Mr. Barrett has to say it,” broke in Warren Smith. “We're up + here to see this fellow before he dies, to try and get him to tell what + disposal they made of the——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Meredith shivered. “I believe I'd rather he said the other than to + hear you say that.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Horner felt the need of defending a fellow-townsman, and came to the + rescue, flushing painfully. “It's mighty bad, I know,” said the sheriff of + Carlow, the shadows of his honest, rough face falling in a solemn pattern; + “I reckon we hate to say it as much as you hate to hear it; and Warren + really didn't get the word out. It's stuck in our throats all day; and I + don't recollect as I heard a single man say it before I left our city this + morning. Our folks thought a great deal of him, Mr. Meredith; I don't + believe there's any thinks more. But it's come to that now; you can't + hardly see no chance left. We be'n sweating this other man, Slattery, but + we can't break him down. Jest tells us to go to”—the sheriff paused, + evidently deterred by the thought that swear-words were unbefitting a + hospital—“to the other place, and shets his jaw up tight. The one up + here is called the Teller, as Mr. Barrett says; his name's Jerry the + Teller. Well, we told Slattery that Jerry had died and left a confession; + tried to make him think there wasn't no hope fer him, and he might as well + up and tell his share; might git off easier; warned him to look out for a + mob if he didn't, maybe, and so on, but it never bothered him at all. He's + nervy, all right. Told us to go—that is, he said it again—and + swore the Teller was on his way to Chicago, swore he seen him git on the + train. Wouldn't say another word tell he got a lawyer. So, 'soon as it was + any use, we come up here—they reckon he'll come to before he dies. + We'll be glad to have you go in with us,” Horner said kindly. “I reckon + it's all the same to Mr. Barrett.” + </p> + <p> + “He will die, will he, Gay?” Meredith asked, turning to the surgeon. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not necessarily,” the young man replied, yawning slightly behind his + hand, and too long accustomed to straightforward questions to be shocked + at an evident wish for a direct reply. “His chances are better, because + they'll hang him if he gets well. They took the ball and a good deal of + shot out of his side, and there's a lot more for afterwhile, if he lasts. + He's been off the table an hour, and he's still going.” + </p> + <p> + “That's in his favor, isn't it?” said Meredith. “And extraordinary, too?” + If young Dr. Gay perceived a slur in these interrogations he betrayed no + exterior appreciation of it. + </p> + <p> + “Shot!” exclaimed Homer. “Shot! I knowed there'd be'n a pistol used, + though where they got it beats me—we stripped 'em—and it + wasn't Mr. Harkless's; he never carried one. But a shot-gun!” + </p> + <p> + An attendant entered and spoke to the surgeon, and Gay rose wearily, + touched the drowsy young man on the shoulder, and led the way to the door. + “You can come now,” he said to the others; “though I doubt its being any + good to you. He's delirious.” + </p> + <p> + They went down a long hall and up a narrow corridor, then stepped softly + into a small, quiet ward. + </p> + <p> + There was a pungent smell of chemicals in the room; the light was low, and + the dimness was imbued with a thick, confused murmur, incoherent + whisperings that came from a cot in the corner. It was the only cot in use + in the ward, and Meredith was conscious of a terror that made him dread, + to look at it, to go near it. Beside it a nurse sat silent, and upon it + feebly tossed the racked body of him whom Barrett had called Jerry the + Teller. + </p> + <p> + The head was a shapeless bundle, so swathed it was with bandages and + cloths, and what part of the face was visible was discolored and pigmented + with drugs. Stretched under the white sheet the man looked immensely tall—as + Horner saw with vague misgiving—and he lay in an odd, inhuman + fashion, as though he had been all broken to pieces. His attempts to move + were constantly soothed by the nurse, and he as constantly renewed such + attempts; and one hand, though torn and bandaged, was not to be restrained + from a wandering, restless movement which Meredith felt to be pathetic. He + had entered the room with a flare of hate for the thug whom he had come to + see die, and who had struck down the old friend whose nearness he had + never known until it was too late. But at first sight of the broken figure + he felt all animosity fall away from him; only awe remained, and a + growing, traitorous pity as he watched the long, white fingers of the + Teller “pick at the coverlet.” The man was muttering rapid fragments of + words, and syllables. + </p> + <p> + “Somehow I feel a sense of wrong,” Meredith whispered to Gay. “I feel as + if I had done the fellow to death myself, as if it were all out of gear. I + know, now, how Henry felt over the great Guisard. My God, how tall he + looks! That doesn't seem to me like a thug's hand.” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon nodded. “Of course, if there's a mistake to be made, you can + count on Barrett and his sergeants to make it. I doubt if this is their + man. When they found him what clothes he wore were torn and stained; but + they had been good once, especially the linen.” + </p> + <p> + Barrett bent over the recumbent figure. “See here. Jerry,” he said, “I + want to talk to you a little. Rouse up, will you? I want to talk to you as + a friend.” + </p> + <p> + The incoherent muttering continued. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Jerry!” repeated Barrett, more sharply. “Jerry! rouse up, will + you? We don't want any fooling; understand that, Jerry!” He dropped his + hand on the man's shoulder and shook him slightly. The Teller uttered a + short, gasping cry. + </p> + <p> + “Let me,” said Gay, and swiftly interposed. Bending over the cot, he said + in a pleasant, soft voice: “It's all right, old man; it's all right. + Slattery wants to know what you did with that man down at Plattville, when + you got through with him. He can't remember, and he thinks there was money + left on him. Slattery's head was hurt—he can't remember. He'll go + shares with you, when he gets it. Slattery's going to stand by you, if he + can get the money.” + </p> + <p> + The Teller only tried to move his free hand to the shoulder Barrett had + shaken. + </p> + <p> + “Slattery wants to know,” repeated the surgeon, gently moving the hand + back upon the sheet. “He'll divvy up, when he gets it. He'll stand by you, + old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you please not mind,” whispered the Teller faintly, “would you + please not mind if you took care not to brush against my shoulder again?” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon drew back with an exclamation; but the Teller's whisper + gathered strength, and they heard him murmuring oddly to himself. Meredith + moved forward. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” he asked, with a startled gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to be trying to sing, or something,” said Barrett, bending over to + listen. The Teller swung his arm heavily over the side of the cot, the + fingers never ceasing their painful twitching, and Gay leaned down and + gently moved the cloths so that the white, scarred lips were free. They + moved steadily; they seemed to be framing the semblance of an old ballad + that Meredith knew; the whisper grew more distinct, and it became a rich + but broken voice, and they heard it singing, like the sound of some far, + halting minstrelsy: + </p> + <p> + “Wave willows—murmur waters—golden sunbeams smile, Earthly + music—cannot waken—lovely—Annie Lisle.” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” cried Tom Meredith. + </p> + <p> + The bandaged hand waved jauntily over the Teller's head. “Ah, men,” he + said, almost clearly, and tried to lift himself on his arm, “I tell you + it's a grand eleven we have this year! There will be little left of + anything that stands against them. Did you see Jim Romley ride over his + man this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + As the voice grew clearer the sheriff stepped forward, but Tom Meredith, + with a loud exclamation of grief, threw himself on his knees beside the + cot and seized the wandering fingers in his own. “John!” he cried. “John! + Is it <i>you</i>?” + </p> + <p> + The voice went on rapidly, not heeding him: “Ah, you needn't howl; I'd + have been as much use at right as that Sophomore. Well, laugh away, you + Indians! If it hadn't been for this ankle—but it seems to be my + chest that's hurt—and side—not that it matters, you know; the + Sophomore's just as good, or better. It's only my egotism. Yes, it must be + the side—and chest—and head—all over, I believe. Not + that it matters—I'll try again next year—next year I'll make + it a daily, Helen said, not that I should call you Helen—I mean Miss—Miss—Fisbee—no, + Sherwood—but I've always thought Helen was the prettiest name in the + world—you'll forgive me?—And please tell Parker there's no + more copy, and won't be—I wouldn't grind out another stick to save + his immortal—yes, yes, a daily—she said-ah, I never made a + good trade—no—they can't come seven miles—but I'll + finish <i>you</i>, Skillett, first; I know <i>you</i>! I know nearly all + of you! Now let's sing 'Annie Lisle.'” He lifted his hand as if to beat + the time for a chorus. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, John, John!” cried Tom Meredith, and sobbed outright. “My boy—my + boy—old friend——” The cry of the classmate was like that + of a mother, for it was his old idol and hero who lay helpless and broken + before him. + </p> + <p> + The brougham lamps and the apathetic sparks of the cab gleamed in front of + the hospital till daylight. Two other pairs of lamps joined them in the + earliest of the small hours, these subjoined to two deep-hooded phaetons, + from each of which quickly descended a gentleman with a beard, an air of + eminence, and a small, ominous black box. The air of eminence was + justified by the haste with which Meredith had sent for them, and by their + wide repute. They arrived almost simultaneously, and hastily shook hands + as they made their way to the ward down the long hall and up the narrow + corridor. They had a short conversation with Gay and a word with the + nurse, then turned the others out of the room by a practiced innuendo of + manner. They stayed a long time in the room without opening the door. + Meredith paced the hall alone, sometimes stopping to speak to Warren + Smith; but the two officials of peace sat together in dumb consternation + and astonishment. The sleepy young man relaxed himself resignedly upon a + bench in the hall had returned to the dormance from which he had been + roused. The big hospital was very still. Now and then a nurse went through + the hall, carrying something, and sometimes a neat young physician passed + cheerfully along, looking as if he had many patients who were well enough + to testify to his skill, but sick enough to pay for it. Outside, through + the open front doors, the crickets chirped. + </p> + <p> + Meredith went out on the steps, and breathed the cool night air. A slender + taint of drugs hung everywhere about the building, and the almost + imperceptible permeation sickened him; it was deadly, he thought, and + imbued with a hideous portent of suffering. That John Harkless, of all + men, should lie stifled with ether, and bandaged and splintered, and + smeared with horrible unguents, while they stabbed and slashed and + tortured him, and made an outrage and a sin of that grand, big, dexterous + body of his! Meredith shuddered. The lights in the little ward were turned + up, and they seemed to shine from a chamber of horrors, while he waited, + as a brother might have waited outside the Inquisition—if, indeed, a + brother would have been allowed to wait outside the Inquisition. + </p> + <p> + Alas, he had found John Harkless! He had “lost track” of him as men + sometimes do lose track of their best beloved, but it had always been a + comfort to know that Harkless <i>was</i>—somewhere, a comfort + without which he could hardly have got along. Like others he had been + waiting for John to turn up—on top, of course; for people would + always believe in him so, that he would be shoved ahead, no matter how + much he hung back himself—but Meredith had not expected him to turn + up in Indiana. He had heard vaguely that Harkless was abroad, and he had a + general expectation that people would hear of him over there some day, + with papers like the “Times” beseeching him to go on missions. And he + found him here, in his own home, a stranger, alone and dying, receiving + what ministrations were reserved for Jerry the Teller. But it was Helen + Sherwood who had found him. He wondered how much those two had seen of + each other, down there in Plattville. If they had liked each other, and + Harkless could have lived, he thought it might have simplified some things + for Helen. “Poor Helen!” he exclaimed aloud. Her telegram had a ring, even + in the barren four sentences. He wondered how much they had liked each + other. Perhaps she would wish to come at once. When those fellows came out + of the room he would send her a word by telegraph. + </p> + <p> + When they came out—ah! he did not want them to come out; he was + afraid. They were an eternity—why didn't they come? No; he hoped + they would not come, just now. In a little time, in a few minutes, even, + he would not dread a few words so much; but <i>now</i> he couldn't quite + bear to be told he had found his friend only to lose him, the man he had + always most needed, wanted, loved. Everybody had always cared for + Harkless, wherever he went. That <i>he</i> had always cared for everybody + was part of the reason, maybe. Meredith remembered, now, hearing a man who + had spent a day in Plattville on business speak of him: “They've got a + young fellow down there who'll be Governor in a few years. He's a sort of + dictator; and runs the party all over that part of the State to suit his + own sweet will, just by sheer personality. And there isn't a man in that + district who wouldn't cheerfully lie down in the mud to let him pass over + dry. It's that young Harkless, you know; owns the 'Herald,' the paper that + downed McCune and smashed those imitation 'White-Caps' in Carlow County.” + Meredith had been momentarily struck by the coincidence of the name, but + his notion of Harkless was so inseparably connected with what was (to his + mind) a handsome and more spacious—certainly more illuminated—field + of action, that the idea that this might be his friend never entered his + head. Helen had said something once—he could not remember what—that + made him think she had half suspected it, and he had laughed. He thought + of the whimsical fate that had taken her to Plattville, of the reason for + her going, and the old thought came to him that the world is, after all, + so very small. He looked up at the twinkling stars; they were reassuring + and kind. Under their benignancy no loss could befall, no fate miscarry—for + in his last thought he felt his vision opened, for the moment, to perceive + a fine tracery of fate. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that would be too beautiful!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And then he shivered; for his name was spoken from within. + </p> + <p> + It was soon plain to him that he need not have feared a few words, for he + did not in the least understand those with which the eminent surgeons + favored him; and they at once took their departure. He did understand, + however, what Horner told him. Mr. Barrett, Warren Smith, and the sleepy + young man had reentered the ward; and Horner was following, but waited for + Meredith. Somehow, the look of the sheriff's Sunday coat, wrinkling + forlornly from his broad, bent shoulders, was both touching and solemn. He + said simply: “He's conscious and not out of his head. They're gone in to + take his ante-mortem statement,” and they went into the room. + </p> + <p> + Harkless's eyes were bandaged. The lawyer was speaking to him, and as + Horner went awkwardly toward the cot. Warren said something indicative of + the sheriff's presence, and the hand on the sheet made a formless motion + which Horner understood, for he took the pale fingers in his own, very + gently, and then set them back. Smith turned toward Meredith, but the + latter made a gesture which forbade the attorney to speak of him, and went + to a corner and sat down with his head in his hands. + </p> + <p> + The sleepy young man opened a notebook and shook a stylographic pen so + that the ink might flow freely. The lawyer, briefly and with unlegal + agitation, administered an oath, to which Harkless responded feebly, and + then there was silence. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Harkless, if you please,” said Barrett, insinuatingly; “if you + feel like telling us as much as you can about it?” + </p> + <p> + He answered in a low, rather indistinct voice, very deliberately, pausing + before almost every word. It was easy work for the sleepy stenographer. + </p> + <p> + “I understand. I don't want to go off my head again before I finish. Of + course I know why you want this. If it were only for myself I should tell + you nothing, because, if I am to leave, I should like it better if no one + were punished. But that's a bad community over there; they are + everlastingly worrying our people; they have always been a bother to us, + and it's time it was stopped for good. I don't believe very much in + punishment, but you can't do a great deal of reforming with the + Cross-Roaders unless you catch them young—very young, before they're + weaned—they wean them on whiskey, I think. I realize you needn't + have sworn me for me to tell you this.” + </p> + <p> + Homer and Smith had started at the mention of the Cross-Roads, but they + subdued their ejaculations, while Mr. Barrett looked as if he had known + it, of course. The room was still, save for the dim voice and the soft + transcribings of the stylographic pen. + </p> + <p> + “I left Judge Briscoe's, and went west on the pike to a big tree. It + rained, and I stepped under the tree for shelter. There was a man on the + other side of the fence. It was Bob Skillett. He was carrying his gown and + hood—I suppose it was that—on his arm. Then I saw two others a + little farther east, in the middle of the road; and I think they had + followed me from the Briscoes', or near there. They had their foolish + regalia on, as all the rest had,—there was plenty of lightning to + see. The two in the road were simply standing there in the rain, looking + at me through the eye-holes in their hoods. I knew there were others—plenty—but + I thought they were coming from behind me—the west. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to get home—the court-house yard was good enough for me—so + I started east, toward town. I passed the two gentlemen; and one fell down + as I went by him, but the other fired a shot as a signal, and I got his + hood off his face for it—I stopped long enough—and it was + Force Johnson. I know him well. Then I ran, and they followed. A little + ahead of me I saw six or eight of them spread across the road. I knew I'd + have a time getting through, so I jumped the fence to cut across the + fields, and I lit in a swarm of them—it had rained them just where I + jumped. I set my back to the fence, but one of the fellows in the road + leaned over and smashed my head in, rather—with the butt of a gun, I + believe. I came out from the fence and they made a little circle around + me. No one said anything. I saw they had ropes and saplings, and I didn't + want that, exactly, so I went into them. I got a good many hoods off + before it was over, and I can swear to quite a number besides those I told + you.” + </p> + <p> + He named the men, slowly and carefully. Then he went on: “I think they + gave up the notion of whipping. We all got into a bunch, and they couldn't + clear to shoot without hitting some of their own: and there was a lot of + gouging and kicking—one fellow nearly got my left eye, and I tried + to tear him apart and he screamed so that I think he was hurt. Once or + twice I thought I might get away, but somebody hammered me over the head + and face again, and I got dizzy; and then they all jumped away from me + suddenly, and Bob Skillett stepped up—and—shot me. He waited + for a good flurry of lightning, and I was slow tumbling down. Some one + else fired a shot-gun, I think—I can't be sure—about the same + time, from the side. I tried to get up, but I couldn't, and then they got + together, for a consultation. The man I had hurt—I didn't recognize + him—came and looked at me. He was nursing himself all over; and + groaned; and I laughed, I—at any rate, my arm was lying stretched + out on the grass, and he stamped his heel into my hand, and after a little + of that I quit feeling. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not quite clear about what happened afterwards. They went away, not + far, I think. There's an old shed, a cattle-shelter, near there, and I + think the storm drove them under it to wait for a slack. It seemed a long + time. Sometimes I was conscious, sometimes I wasn't. I thought I might be + drowned, but I suppose the rain was good for me. Then I remember being in + motion, being dragged and carried a long way. They took me up a steep, + short slope, and set me down near the top. I knew that was the railroad + embankment, and I thought they meant to lay me across the track, but it + didn't occur to them, I suppose—they are not familiar with melodrama—and + a long time after that I felt and heard a great banging and rattling under + me and all about me, and it came to me that they had disposed of me by + hoisting me into an empty freight-car. The odd part of it was that the car + wasn't empty, for there were two men already in it, and I knew them by + what they said to me. + </p> + <p> + “They were the two shell-men who cheated Hartley Bowlder, and they weren't + vindictive; they even seemed to be trying to help me a little, though + perhaps they were only stealing my clothes, and maybe they thought for + them to do anything unpleasant would be superfluous; I could see that they + thought I was done for, and that they had been hiding in the car when I + was put there. I asked them to try to call the train men for me, but they + wouldn't listen, or else I couldn't make myself understood. That's all. + The rest is a blur. I haven't known anything more until those surgeons + were here. Please tell me how long ago it happened. I shall not die, I + think; there are a good many things I want to know about.” He moved + restlessly and the nurse soothed him. + </p> + <p> + Meredith rose and left the room with a noiseless step. He went out to the + stars again, and looked to them to check the storm of rage and sorrow that + buffeted his bosom. He understood lynching, now the thing was home to him, + and his feeling was no inspiration of a fear lest the law miscarry; it was + the itch to get his own hand on the rope. Horner came out presently, and + whispered a long, broad, profound curse upon the men of the Cross-Roads, + and Meredith's gratitude to him was keen. Barrett went away, soon after, + leaving the cab for the gentlemen from Plattville. Meredith had a strange, + unreasonable desire to kick Barrett, possibly for his sergeant's sake. + Warren Smith sat in the ward with the nurse and Gay, and the room was very + quiet. It was a long vigil. + </p> + <p> + They were only waiting. + </p> + <p> + At five o'clock he was still alive—just that, Smith came out to say. + Meredith sent his driver with a telegram to Helen which would give + Plattville the news that Harkless was found and was not yet gone from + them. Homer took the cab and left for the station; there was a train, and + there were things for him to do in Carlow. At noon Meredith sent a second + telegram to Helen, as barren of detail as the first: he was alive—was + a little improved. This telegram did not reach her, for she was on the way + to Rouen, and half of the population of Carlow—at least, so it + appeared to the unhappy conductor of the accommodation—was with her. + </p> + <p> + They seemed to feel that they could camp in the hospital halls and + corridors, and they were an incalculable worry to the authorities. More + came on every train, and nearly all brought flowers, and jelly, and + chickens for preparing broth, and they insisted that the two latter + delicacies be fed to the patient at once. Meredith was possessed by an + unaccountable responsibility for them all, and invited a great many to + stay at his own house. They were still in ignorance of the truth about the + Cross-Roads, and some of them spent the day (it was Sunday) in planning an + assault upon the Rouen jail for the purpose of lynching Slattery in case + Harkless's condition did not improve at once. Those who had heard his + statement kept close mouths until the story appeared in full in the Rouen + papers on Monday morning; but by that time every member of the Cross-Roads + White-Caps was lodged in the Rouen jail with Slattery. Homer and a heavily + armed posse rode over to the muddy corners on Sunday night, and the + sheriff discovered that he might have taken the Skilletts and Johnsons + single-handed and unarmed. Their nerve was gone; they were shaken and + afraid; and, to employ a figure somewhat inappropriate to their sullen, + glad surrender, they fell upon his neck in their relief at finding the law + touching them. They had no wish to hear “John Brown's Body” again. They + wanted to get inside of a strong jail, and to throw themselves on the + mercy of the court as soon as possible. And those whom Harkless had not + recognized delayed not to give themselves up; they did not desire to + remain in Six-Cross-Roads. Bob Skillett, Force Johnson, and one or two + others needed the care of a physician badly, and one man was suffering + from a severely wrenched back. Homer had a train stopped at a crossing, so + that his prisoners need not be taken through Plattville, and he brought + them all safely to Rouen. Had there chanced any one to ride through the + deserted Cross-Roads the next morning, passing the trampled fields and the + charred ruins of the two shanties to the east, and listening to the + lamentations of the women and children, he would have declared that at + last the old score had been paid, and that Six-Cross-Roads was wiped out. + </p> + <p> + The Carlow folks were deeply impressed with the two eminent surgeons, of + whom some of them had heard, and on Tuesday, the bulletins marking + considerable encouragement, most of them decided to temporarily risk the + editor of the “Herald” to such capable hands, and they returned quietly to + their homes; only a few were delayed in reaching Carlow by travelling to + the first station in the opposite direction before they succeeded in + planting themselves on the proper train. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the object of their solicitude tossed and burned on his bed of + pain. He was delirious most of the time, and, in the intervals of + half-consciousness, found that his desire to live, very strong at first, + had disappeared; he did not care much about anything except rest—he + wanted peace. In his wanderings he was almost always back in his college + days, beholding them in an unhappy, distorted fashion. He would lie + asprawl on the sward with the others, listening to the Seniors singing on + the steps, and, all at once, the old, kindly faces would expand enormously + and press over him with hideous mouthings, and an ugly Senior in cap and + gown would stamp him and grind a spiked heel into his hand; then they + would toss him high into air that was all flames, and he would fall and + fall through the raging heat, seeing the cool earth far beneath him, but + never able to get down to it again. And then he was driven miles and miles + by dusky figures, through a rain of boiling water; and at other times the + whole universe was a vast, hot brass bell, and it gave off a huge, + continuous roar and hum, while he was a mere point of consciousness + floating in the exact centre of the heat and sound waves, and he listened, + listened for years, to the awful, brazen hum from which there could be no + escape; at the same time it seemed to him that he was only a Freshman on + the slippery roof of the tower, trying to steal the clapper of the chapel + bell. + </p> + <p> + Finally he came to what he would have considered a lucid interval, had it + not appeared that Helen Sherwood was whispering to Tom Meredith at the + foot of his bed. This he knew to be a fictitious presentation of his + fever, for was she not by this time away and away for foreign lands? And, + also, Tom Meredith was a slim young thing, and not the middle-aged youth + with an undeniable stomach and a baldish head, who, by the grotesque + necromancy of his hallucinations, assumed a preposterous likeness to his + old friend. He waved his hand to the figures and they vanished like + figments of a dream; but all the same the vision had been realistic enough + for the lady to look exquisitely pretty. No one could help wishing to stay + in a world which contained as charming a picture as that. + </p> + <p> + And then, too quickly, the moment of clearness passed; and he was troubled + about the “Herald,” beseeching those near him to put copies of the paper + in his hands, threatening angrily to believe they were deceiving him, that + his paper had suspended, if the three issues of the week were not + instantly produced. What did they mean by keeping the truth from him? He + knew the “Herald” had not come out. Who was there to get it out in his + absence? He raised himself on his elbow and struggled to be up; and they + had hard work to quiet him. + </p> + <p> + But the next night Meredith waited near his bedside, haggard and + dishevelled. Harkless had been lying in a long stupor; suddenly he spoke, + quite loudly, and the young surgeon, Gay, who leaned over him, remembered + the words and the tone all his life. + </p> + <p> + “Away and away—across the waters,” said John Harkless. “She was here—once—in + June.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, John?” whispered Meredith, huskily. “You're easier, aren't + you?” + </p> + <p> + And John smiled a little, as if, for an instant, his swathed eyes + penetrated the bandages, and saw and knew his old friend again. + </p> + <p> + That same night a friend of Rodney McCune's sent a telegram from Rouen: + “He is dying. His paper is dead. Your name goes before convention in + September.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. JAMES FISBEE + </h2> + <p> + On Monday morning three men sat in council in the “Herald” office; that + is, if staring out of dingy windows in a demented silence may be called + sitting in council; that was what Mr. Fisbee and Parker and Ross Schofield + were doing. By almost desperate exertions, these three and Bud Tipworthy + had managed to place before the public the issues of the paper for the + previous week, unaided by their chief, or, rather, aided by long accounts + of his condition and the manner of his mishap; and, in truth, three copies + were at that moment in the possession of Dr. Gay, accompanied by a note + from Parker warning the surgeon to exhibit them to his patient only as a + last resort, as the foreman feared the perusal of them might cause a + relapse. + </p> + <p> + By indiscriminate turns, acting as editors, reporters, and typesetters—and + particularly space-writers—the three men had worried out three + issues, and part of the fourth (to appear the next morning) was set up; + but they had come to the end of their string, and there were various + horrid gaps yet to fill in spite of a too generous spreading of + advertisements. Bud Tipworthy had been sent out to besiege Miss Tibbs, all + of whose recent buds of rhyme had been hot-housed into inky blossom during + the week, and after a long absence the youth returned with a somewhat + abrupt quatrain, entitled “The Parisians of Old,” which she had produced + while he waited—only four lines, according to the measure they + meted, which was not regardful of art—less than a drop in the + bucket, or, to preserve the figure, a single posy where they needed a + bouquet. Bud went down the rickety outside stairs, and sat on the lowest + step, whistling “Wait till the Clouds Roll by, Jenny”; Ross Schofield + descended to set up the quatrain, and Fisbee and Parker were left to + silence and troubled meditation. + </p> + <p> + They were seated on opposite sides of Harkless's desk. Sheets of blank + scratch-paper lay before them, and they relaxed not their knit brows. Now + and then, one of them, after gazing vacantly about the room for ten or + fifteen minutes, would attack the sheet before him with fiercest energy; + then the energy would taper off, and the paragraph halt, the writer peruse + it dubiously, then angrily tear off the sheet and hurl it to the floor. + All around them lay these snowballs of defeated journalism. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parker was a long, loose, gaunt gentleman, with a peremptory forehead + and a capable jaw, but on the present occasion his capability was baffled + and swamped in the attempt to steer the craft of his talent up an + unaccustomed channel without a pilot. “I don't see as it's any use, + Fisbee,” he said, morosely, after a series of efforts that littered the + floor in every direction. “I'm a born compositor, and I can't shift my + trade. I stood the pace fairly for a week, but I'll have to give up; I'm + run plumb dry. I only hope they won't show him our Saturday with your + three columns of 'A Word of the Lotus Motive,' reprinted from February. I + begin to sympathize with the boss, because I know what he felt when I + ballyragged him for copy. Yes, sir, I know how it is to be an editor in a + dead town now.” + </p> + <p> + “We must remember, too,” said his companion, thoughtfully, “there is the + Thursday issue of this week to be prepared, almost at once.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Don't</i>! Please don't mention that, Fisbee!” Parker tilted far back + in his chair with his feet anchored under the desk, preserving a + precarious balance. “I ain't as grateful for my promotion to joint + Editor-in-Chief as I might be. I'm a middling poor man for the hour, I + guess,” he remarked, painfully following the peregrinations of a fly on + his companion's sleeve. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fisbee twisted up another sheet, and employed his eyes in following + the course of a crack in the plaster, a slender black aperture which + staggered across the dusty ceiling and down the dustier wall to disappear + behind a still dustier map of Carlow County. “That's the trouble!” + exclaimed Parker, observing the other's preoccupation. “Soon as you get to + writing a line or two that seems kind of promising, you begin to take a + morbid interest in that blamed crack. It's busted up enough copy for me, + the last eight days, to have filled her up twenty times over. I don't know + as I ever care to see that crack again. I turned my back on it, but there + wasn't any use in that, because if a fly lights on you I watch him like a + brother, and if there ain't any fly I've caught a mania for tapping my + teeth with a pencil, that is just as good.” + </p> + <p> + To these two gentlemen, thus disengaged, reentered (after a much longer + absence than Miss Selina's quatrain justified) Mr. Ross Schofield, a + healthy glow of exertion lending pleasant color to his earnest visage, and + an almost visible laurel of success crowning his brows. In addition to + this imaginary ornament, he was horned with pencils over both ears, and + held some scribbled sheets in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I done a good deal down there,” he announced cheerfully, drawing up a + chair to the desk. “I thought up a heap of things I've heard lately, and + they'll fill up mighty well. That there poem of Miss Seliny's was a kind + of an inspiration to me, and I tried one myself, and it didn't come hard + at all. When I got started once, it jest seemed to flow from me. I didn't + set none of it up,” he added modestly, but with evident consciousness of + having unearthed genius in himself and an elate foreknowledge of the treat + in store for his companions. “I thought I'd ort to see how you liked it + first.” He offered the papers to Mr. Parker, but the foreman shook his + head. + </p> + <p> + “You read it, Ross,” I said. “I don't believe I feel hearty enough to-day. + Read the items first—we can bear the waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “What waiting?” inquired Mr. Schofield. + </p> + <p> + “For the poem,” replied Parker, grimly. + </p> + <p> + With a vague but not fleeting smile, Ross settled the sheets in order, and + exhibited tokens of that pleasant nevousness incident to appearing before + a critical audience, armed with literature whose merits should delight + them out of the critical attitude. “I run across a great scheme down + there,” he volunteered amiably, by way of preface; “I described everything + in full, in as many words as I could think up; it's mighty filling, and + it'll please the public, too; it gives 'em a lot more information than + they us'ally git. I reckon there's two sticks of jest them extry words + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said the foreman, rather ominously. + </p> + <p> + Ross began to read, a matter necessitating a puckered brow and at times an + amount of hesitancy and ruminating, as his results had already cooled a + little, and he found his hand difficult to decipher. “Here's the first,” + he said: + </p> + <p> + “'The large and handsome, fawn-colored, two years and one-half year old + Jersey of Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire——'” + </p> + <p> + The foreman interrupted him: “Every reader of the 'Herald' will be glad to + know that Jersey's age and color! But go on.” + </p> + <p> + “'—Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire,'” pursued his assistant, with + some discomfiture, “'—Esquire, our popular and well-dressed + fellow-citizen——'” + </p> + <p> + “You're right; Bib Jones is a heavy swell,” said Parker in a breaking + voice. + </p> + <p> + “'—Citizen, can be daily seen wandering from the far end of his + pasture-lot to the other far end of it.'” + </p> + <p> + “'His!'” exclaimed Parker. “'<i>His</i> pasture-lot?' The Jersey's?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned the other, meekly, “Bib Jones's.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Parker. “Is that the end of that item? It is! You want to get + out of Plattville, my friend; it's too small for you; you go to Rouen and + you'll be city editor of the 'Journal' inside of a week. Let's have + another.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Schofield looked up blankly; however, he felt that there was enough + live, legitimate news in his other items to redeem the somewhat tame + quality of the first, and so, after having crossed out several of the + extra words which had met so poor a reception, he proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “'Whit Upton's pigs broke out last Wednesday and rooted up a fine patch of + garden truck. Hard luck, Whit.' + </p> + <p> + “'Jerusalem Hawkins took a drive yesterday afternoon. He had the bay to + his side-bar. Jee's buggy has been recently washed. Congratulations, + Jee.'” + </p> + <p> + “There's thrilling information!” shouted the foreman. “That'll touch the + gentle reader to the marrow. The boss had to use some pretty rotten copy + himself, but he never got as low as that. But we'll use it; oh, we'll use + it! If we don't get her out he'll have a set-back, but if they show her to + him it'll kill him. If it doesn't, and he gets well, he'll kill us. But + we'll use it, Ross. Don't read any more to us, though; I feel weaker than + I did, and I wasn't strong before. Go down and set it all up.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Schofield rejoined with an injured air, and yet hopefully: “I'd like + to see what you think of the poetry—it seemed all right to me, but I + reckon you ain't ever the best judge of your own work. Shall I read it?” + The foreman only glanced at him in silence, and the young man took this + for assent. “I haven't made up any name for it yet.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'O, the orphan boy stood on the hill, + The wind blew cold and very chill—'” + </pre> + <p> + Glancing at his auditors, he was a trifle abashed to observe a glaze upon + the eyes of Mr. Parker, while a purple tide rose above his neck-band and + unnaturally distended his throat and temples. With a placative little + laugh, Mr. Schofield remarked: “I git the swing to her all right, I + reckon, but somehow it doesn't sound so kind of good as when I was writing + it.” There was no response, and he went on hurriedly: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'But there he saw the little rill—'” + </pre> + <p> + The poet paused to say, with another amiable laugh: “It's sort of hard to + git out of them ill, hill, chill rhymes once you strike 'em. It runs on + like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'—Little rill + That curved and spattered around the hill.' +</pre> + <p> + “I guess that's all right, to use 'hill' twice; don't you reckon so? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'And the orphan he stood there until + The wind and all gave him a chill; + And he sickened—'” + </pre> + <p> + That day Ross read no more, for the tall printer, seemingly incapable of + coherent speech, kicked the desk impotently, threw his arms above his + head, and, his companions confidently looking to see him foam at the + mouth, lost his balance and toppled over backward, his extensive legs + waving wildly in the air as he struck the floor. Mr. Schofield fled. + </p> + <p> + Parker made no effort to rise, but lay glaring at the ceiling, breathing + hard. He remained in that position for a long time, until finally the + glaze wore away from his eyes and a more rational expression settled over + his features. Mr. Fisbee addressed him timidly: “You don't think we could + reduce the size of the sheet?” + </p> + <p> + “It would kill him,” answered his prostrate companion. “We've got to fill + her solid some way, though I give up; I don't know how. How that man has + worked! It was genius. He just floated around the county and soaked in + items, and he wrote editorials that people read. One thing's certain: we + can't do it. We're ruining his paper for him, and when he gets able to + read, it'll hurt him bad. Mighty few knew how much pride he had in it. Has + it struck you that now would be a precious good time for it to occur to + Rod McCune to come out of his hole? Suppose we go by the board, what's to + stop him? What's to stop him, anyway? Who knows where the boss put those + copies and affidavits, and if we did know, would we know the best way to + use 'em? If we did, what's to keep the 'Herald' alive until McCune lifts + his head? And if we don't stop him, the 'Carlow County Herald' is + finished. Something's got to be done!'” + </p> + <p> + No one realized this more poignantly than Mr. Fisbee, but no one was less + capable of doing something of his own initiation. And although the Tuesday + issue was forthcoming, embarrassingly pale in spots—most spots—Mr. + Martin remarked rather publicly that the items were not what you might + call stirring, and that the unpatented pages put him in mind of Jones's + field in winter with a dozen chunks of coal dropped in the snow. And his + observations on the later issues of the week (issues which were put forth + with a suggestion of spasm, and possibly to the permanent injury of Mr. + Parker's health, he looked so thin) were too cruelly unkind to be repeated + here. Indeed, Mr. Fisbee, Parker, the luckless Mr. Schofield, and the + young Tipworthy may be not untruthfully likened to a band of devoted + mariners lost in the cold and glaring regions of a journalistic Greenland: + limitless plains of empty white paper extending about them as far as the + eye could reach, while life depended upon their making these terrible + voids productive; and they shrank appalled from the task, knowing no means + to fertilize the barrens; having no talent to bring the still snows into + harvests, and already feeling-in the chill of Mr. Martin's remarks—a + touch of the frost that might wither them. + </p> + <p> + It was Fisbee who caught the first glimpse of a relief expedition clipping + the rough seas on its lively way to rescue them, and, although his first + glimpse of the jaunty pennant of the relieving vessels was over the + shoulder of an iceberg, nothing was surer than that the craft was flying + to them with all good and joyous speed. The iceberg just mentioned assumed—by + no melting process, one may be sure—the form of a long letter, first + postmarked at Rouen, and its latter substance was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Henry and I have always believed you as selfish, James Fisbee, as you are + self-ingrossed and incapable. She has told us of your 'renunciation'; of + your 'forbidding' her to remain with you; how you 'commanded,' after you + had 'begged' her, to return to us, and how her conscience told her she + should stay and share your life in spite of our long care of her, but that + she yielded to your 'wishes' and our entreaty. What have you ever done for + her and what have you to offer her? She is our daughter, and needless to + say we shall still take care of her, for no one believes you capable of + it, even in that miserable place, and, of course, in time she will return + to her better wisdom, her home, and her duty. I need scarcely say we have + given up the happy months we had planned to spend in Dresden. Henry and I + can only stay at home to pray that her preposterous mania will wear itself + out in short order, as she will find herself unfitted for the ridiculous + task which she insists upon attempting against the earnest wishes of us + who have been more than father and mother to her. Of course, she has + talked volumes of her affection for us, and of her gratitude, which we do + not want—we only want her to stay with us. Please, please try to + make her come back to us—we cannot bear it long. If you are a man + you will send her to us soon. Her excuse for not returning on the day we + wired our intention to go abroad at once (and I may as well tell you now + that our intention to go was formed in order to bring affairs to a crisis + and to draw her away from your influence—we always dreaded her visit + to you and held it off for years)—her excuse was that your best + friend, and, as I understand it, your patron, had been injured in some + brawl in that Christian country of yours—a charming place to take a + girl like her—and she would not leave you in your 'distress' until + more was known of the man's injuries. And now she insists—and you + will know it from her by the next mail—on returning to Plattville, + forsooth, because she has been reading your newspaper, and she says she + knows you are in difficulties over it, and it is her moral obligation—as + by some wild reasoning of her own she considers herself responsible for + your ruffling patron's having been alone when he was shot—to go down + and help. I suppose he made love to her, as all the young men she meets + always do, sooner or later, but I have no fear of any rustic entanglements + tor her; she has never been really interested, save in one affair. We are + quite powerless—we have done everything; but we cannot alter her + determination to edit your paper for you. Naturally, she knows nothing + whatever about such work, but she says, with the air of triumphantly + quelching all such argument, that she has talked a great deal to Mr. + Macauley of the 'Journal.' Mr. Macauley is the affair I have alluded to; + he is what she has meant when she has said, at different times, that she + was interested in journalism. But she is very business-like now. She has + bought a typewriter and purchased a great number of soft pencils and + erasers at an art shop; I am only surprised that she does not intend to + edit your miserable paper in water-colors. She is coming at once. For + mercy's sake don't telegraph her not to; your forbiddings work the wrong + way. Our only hope is that she will find the conditions so utterly + discouraging at the very start that she will give it up and come home. If + you are a man you will help to make them so. She has promised to stay with + that country girl with whom she contracted such an incomprehensible + friendship at Miss Jennings's. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, James, pray for grace to be a man once in your life and send her back + to us! Be a man—try to be a man! Remember the angel you killed! + Remember all we have done for you and what a return you have made, and be + a man for the first time. Try and be a man! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Your unhappy sister-in-law, + + “MARTHA SHERWOOD.” + </pre> + <p> + Mr. Fisbee read the letter with a great, rising delight which no sense of + duty could down; indeed, he perceived that his sense of duty had ceased to + conflict with the one strong hope of his life, just as he perceived that + to be a man, according to Martha Sherwood, was, in part, to assist Martha + Sherwood to have her way in things; and, for the rest, to be the sort of + man she persuaded herself she would be were she not a woman. This he had + never been able to be. + </p> + <p> + By some whimsy of fate, or by a failure of Karma (or, perhaps, by some + triumph of Kismetic retribution), James Fisbee was born in one of the most + business-like and artless cities of a practical and modern country, of + money-getting, money-saving parents, and he was born a dreamer of the + past. He grew up a student of basilican lore, of choir-screens, of Persian + frescoes, and an ardent lounger in the somewhat musty precincts of Chaldea + and Byzantium and Babylon. Early Christian Symbolism, a dispute over the + site of a Greek temple, the derivation of the lotus column, the + restoration of a Gothic buttress—these were the absorbing questions + of his youth, with now and then a lighter moment spent in analytical + consideration of the extra-mural decorations of St. Mark's. The world + buzzed along after its own fashion, not disturbing him, and his + absorptions permitted only a faint consciousness of the despair of his + relatives regarding his mind. Arrived at middle-age, and a little more, he + found himself alone in the world (though, for that matter, he had always + been alone and never of the world), and there was plenty of money for him + with various bankers who appeared to know about looking after it. + Returning to the town of his nativity after sundry expeditions in Syria—upon + which he had been accompanied by dusky gentlemen with pickaxes and curly, + long-barrelled muskets—he met, and was married by, a lady who was + ambitious, and who saw in him (probably as a fulfilment of another + Kismetic punishment) a power of learning and a destined success. Not long + after the birth of their only child, a daughter, he was “called to fill + the chair” of archaeology in a newly founded university; one of the kind + which a State and a millionaire combine to purchase ready-made. This one + was handed down off the shelf in a more or less chaotic condition, and for + a period of years betrayed considerable doubt as to its own intentions, + undecided whether they were classical or technical; and in the settlement + of that doubt lay the secret of the past of the one man in Plattville so + unhappy as to possess a past. From that settlement and his own preceding + action resulted his downfall, his disgrace with his wife's relatives, the + loss of his wife, the rage, surprise, and anguish of her sister, Martha, + and Martha's husband, Henry Sherwood, and the separation from his little + daughter, which was by far to him the hardest to bear. For Fisbee, in his + own way, and without consulting anybody—it never occurred to him, + and he was supposed often to forget that he had a wife and child—had + informally turned over to the university all the money which the banks had + kindly taken care of, and had given it to equip an expedition which never + expedited. A new president of the institution was installed; he talked to + the trustees; they met, and elected to become modern and practical and + technical; they abolished the course in fine arts, which abolished + Fisbee's connection with them, and they then employed his money to erect a + building for the mechanical engineering department. Fisbee was left with + nothing. His wife and her kinsfolk exhibited no brilliancy in holding a + totally irresponsible man down to responsibilities, and they made a + tragedy of a not surprising fiasco. Mrs. Fisbee had lived in her + ambitions, and she died of heartbreak over the discovery of what manner of + man she had married. But, before she died, she wisely provided for her + daughter. + </p> + <p> + Fisbee told Parker the story after his own queer fashion. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Mr. Parker,” he said, as they sat together in the dust and + litter of the “Herald” office, on Sunday afternoon, “you see, I admit that + my sister-in-law has always withheld her approbation from me, and possibly + her disapproval is well founded—I shall say probably. My wife had + also a considerable sum, and this she turned over to me at the time of our + marriage, though I had no wish regarding it one way or the other. When I + gave my money to the university with which I had the honor to be + connected, I added to it the fund I had received from her, as I was the + recipient of a comfortable salary as a lecturer in the institution and had + no fear of not living well, and I was greatly interested in providing that + the expedition should be perfectly equipped. Expeditions of the magnitude + of that which I had planned are expensive, I should, perhaps, inform you, + and this one was to carry on investigations regarding several important + points, very elaborately; and I am still convinced it would have settled + conclusively many vital questions concerning the derivation of the + Babylonian column, as: whether the lotus column may be without prejudice + said to—but at the present moment I will not enter into that. I fear + I had no great experience in money matters, for the transaction had been + almost entirely verbal, and there was nothing to bind the trustees to + carry out my plans for the expedition. They were very sympathetic, but + what could they do? they begged leave to inquire. Such an institution + cannot give back money once donated, and it was clearly out of character + for a school of technology and engineering to send savants to investigate + the lotus column.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Mr. Parker observed, genially. He listened with the most + ingratiating attention, knowing that he had a rich sensation to set before + Plattville as a dish before a king, for Fisbee's was no confidential + communication. The old man might have told a part of his history long ago, + but it had never occurred to him to talk about his affairs—things + had a habit of not occurring to Fisbee—and the efforts of the + gossips to draw him out always passed over his serene and absent head. + </p> + <p> + “It was a blow to my wife,” the old man continued, sadly, “and I cannot + deny that her reproaches were as vehement as her disappointment was + sincere.” He hurried over this portion of his narrative with a vaguely + troubled look, but the intelligent Parker read poor Mrs. Fisbee's state of + mind between the sentences. “She never seemed to regard me in the same + light again,” the archaeologist went on. “She did not conceal from me that + she was surprised and that she could not look upon me as a practical man; + indeed, I may say, she appeared to regard me with marked antipathy. She + sent for her sister, and begged her to take our daughter and keep her from + me, as she did not consider me practical enough-I will substitute for her + more embittered expressions—to provide for a child and instruct it + in the world's ways. My sister-in-law, who was childless, consented to + adopt the little one, on the conditions that I renounced all claim, and + that the child legally assumed her name and should be in all respects as + her own daughter, and that I consented to see her but once a year, in + Rouen, at my brother-in-law's home. + </p> + <p> + “I should have refused, but I—my wife—that is—she was—very + pressing—in her last hours, and they all seemed to feel that I ought + to make amends—all except the little girl herself, I should say, for + she possessed, even as an infant, an exceptional affection for her father. + I had nothing; my salary was gone, and I was discomfited by the combined + actions of the trustees and my relatives, so—I—I gave her up + to them, and my wife passed away in a more cheerful frame of mind, I + think. That is about all. One of the instructors obtained the position + here for me, which I—I finally—lost, and I went to See the + little girl every New Year's day. This year she declared her intention of + visiting <i>me</i>, but she was persuaded by friends who were conversant + with the circumstances to stay with them, where I could be with her almost + as much as at my apartment at Mr. Tibbs's. She had long since declared her + intention of some day returning to live with me, and when she came she was + strenuous in insisting that the day had come.” The old man's voice broke + suddenly as he observed: “She has—a very—beautiful—character, + Mr. Parker.” + </p> + <p> + The foreman nodded with warm confirmation. “I believe you, sir. Yes, sir; + I saw her, and I guess she looks it. You take that kind of a lady usually, + and catch her in a crowd like the one show-day, and she can't help doing + the Grand Duchess, giving the tenants a treat—but not her; she + didn't seem to <i>separate</i> herself from 'em, some way.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a fine lady,” said the other simply. “I did not accept her + renunciation, though I acknowledge I forbade it with a very poignant envy. + I could not be the cause of her giving up for my sake her state of ease + and luxury—for my relatives are more than well-to-do, and they made + it plain she must choose between them and me, with the design, I think, of + making it more difficult to choose me. And, also, it seemed to me, as it + did to her, that she owed them nearly everything, but she declared I had + lived alone so long that she owed me everything, also. She is a—beautiful—character, + Mr. Parker.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Parker, after a pause, “the town will be upside down over + this; and folks will be mighty glad to have it explained about your being + out there so much, and at the deepo, and all this and that. Everybody in + the place has been wondering what in—that is—” he finished in + some confusion—“that is—what I started to say was that it + won't be so bad as it might be, having a lady in the office here. I don't + cuss to speak of, and Ross can lay off on his till the boss comes back. + Besides, it's our only chance. If she can't make the 'Herald' hum, we go + to the wall.” + </p> + <p> + The old man did not seem to hear him. “I forbade the renunciation she + wished to make for my sake,” he said, gently, “but I accept it now for the + sake of our stricken friend—for Mr. Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + “And for the Carlow 'Herald,'” completed the foreman. + </p> + <p> + The morning following that upon which this conversation took place, the + two gentlemen stood together on the station platform, awaiting the arrival + of the express from Rouen. It was a wet gray day; the wide country lay + dripping under formless wraps of thin mist, and a warm, drizzling rain + blackened the weather-beaten shingles of the station; made + clear-reflecting puddles of the unevenly worn planks of the platform, and + dampened the packing-cases that never went anywhere too thoroughly for + occupation by the station-lounger, and ran in a little crystal stream off + Fisbee's brown cotton umbrella and down Mr. Parker's back. The 'bus + driver, Mr. Bennett, the proprietor of two attendant “cut-unders,” and + three or four other worthies whom business, or the lack of it, called to + that locality, availed themselves of the shelter of the waiting-room, but + the gentlemen of the “Herald” were too agitated to be confined, save by + the limits of the horizon. They had reached the station half an hour + before train time, and consumed the interval in pacing the platform under + the cotton umbrella, addressing each other only in monosyllables. Those in + the waiting-room gossiped eagerly, and for the thousandth time, about the + late events, and the tremendous news concerning Fisbee. Judd Bennett + looked out through the rainy doorway at the latter with reverence and a + fine pride of townsmanship, declaring it to be his belief that Fisbee and + Parker were waiting for her at the present moment. It was a lady, and a + bird of a lady, too, else why should Cale Parker be wearing a coat, and be + otherwise dooded and fixed up beyond any wedding? Judd and his friends + were somewhat excited over Parker. + </p> + <p> + Fisbee was clad in his best shabby black, which lent an air of state to + the occasion, but Mr. Parker—Caleb Parker, whose heart, during his + five years of residence in Plattville, had been steel-proof against all + the feminine blandishments of the town, whose long, lank face had shown + beneath as long, and lanker, locks of proverbially uncombed hair, he who + had for weeks conspicuously affected a single, string-patched suspender, + who never, even upon the Sabbath day, wore a collar or blacked his shoes—what + aesthetic leaven had entered his soul that he donned not a coat alone but + also a waistcoat with checks?—and, more than <i>that</i>, a gleaming + celluloid collar?—and, more than that, a brilliant blue tie? What + had this iron youth to do with a rising excitement at train time and + brilliant blue ties? + </p> + <p> + Also, it might have been inquired if this parade of fashion had no + connection with the simultaneous action of Mr. Ross Schofield; for Ross + was at this hour engaged in decorating the battered chairs in the “Herald” + editorial room with blue satin ribbon, the purchase of which at the Dry + Goods Emporium had been directed by a sudden inspiration of his superior + of the composing force. It was Ross's intention to garnish each chair with + an elaborately tied bow, but, as he was no sailor and understood only the + intricacies of a hard-knot, he confined himself to that species of + ornamentation, leaving, however, very long ends of ribbon hanging down + after the manner of the pendants of rosettes. + </p> + <p> + It scarcely needs the statement that his labors were in honor of the new + editor-in-chief of the Carlow “Herald.” The advent and the purposes of + this personage were, as yet, known certainly to only those of the “Herald” + and to the Briscoes. It had been arranged, however, that Minnie and her + father were not to come to the station, for the journalistic crisis was + immoderately pressing; the “Herald” was to appear on the morrow, and the + new editor wished to plunge directly, and without the briefest + distraction, into the paper's difficulties, now accumulated into a + veritable sea of troubles. The editor was to be delivered to the Briscoes + at eventide and returned by them again at dewy morn; and this was to be + the daily programme. It had been further—and most earnestly—stipulated + that when the wounded proprietor of the ailing journal should be informed + of the addition to his forces, he was not to know, or to have the + slenderest hint of, the sex or identity of the person in charge during his + absence. It was inevitable that Plattville (already gaping to the + uttermost) would buzz voluminously over it before night, but Judge Briscoe + volunteered to prevent the buzz from reaching Rouen. He undertook to + interview whatever citizens should visit Harkless, or write to him—when + his illness permitted visits and letters—and forewarn them of the + incumbent's desires. To-day, the judge stayed at home with his daughter, + who trilled about the house for happiness, and, in their place, the + “Herald” deputation of two had repaired to the station to act as a + reception committee. + </p> + <p> + Far away the whistle of the express was heard, muffled to sweetness in the + damp, and the drivers, whip in hand, came out upon the platform, and the + loafers issued, also, to stand under the eaves and lean their backs + against the drier boards, preparing to eye the travellers with languid + raillery. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Parker, very nervous himself, felt the old man's elbow trembling + against his own as the great engine, reeking in the mist, and sending + great clouds of white vapor up to the sky, rushed by them, and came to a + standstill beyond the platform. + </p> + <p> + Fisbee and the foreman made haste to the nearest vestibule, and were + gazing blankly at its barred approaches when they heard a tremulous laugh + behind them and an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber! Just behind you, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Turning quickly, Parker beheld a blushing and smiling little vision, a + vision with light-brown hair, a vision enveloped in a light-brown + rain-cloak and with brown gloves, from which the handles of a big brown + travelling bag were let fall, as the vision disappeared under the cotton + umbrella, while the smitten Judd Bennett reeled gasping against the + station. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest,” the girl cried to the old man, “you were looking for me between + the devil and deep sea—the parlor-car and the smoker. I've given up + cigars, and I've begun to study economy, so I didn't come on either.” + </p> + <p> + There was but this one passenger for Plattville; two enormous trunks + thundered out of the baggage car onto the truck, and it was the work of no + more than a minute for Judd to hale them to the top of the omnibus (he + well wished to wear them next his heart, but their dimensions forbade the + thought), and immediately he cracked his whip and drove off furiously + through the mud to deposit his freight at the Briscoes'. Parker, Mr. + Fisbee, and the new editor-in-chief set forth, directly after, in one of + the waiting cut-unders, the foreman in front with the driver, and holding + the big brown bag on his knees in much the same manner he would have held + an alien, yet respected, infant. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. A RESCUE + </h2> + <p> + The drizzle and mist blew in under the top of the cut-under as they drove + rapidly into town, and bright little drops sparkled on the fair hair above + the new editor's forehead and on the long lashes above the new editor's + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + She shook these transient gems off lightly, as she paused in the doorway + of the office at the top of the rickety stairway. Mr. Schofield had just + added the last touch to his decorations and managed to slide into his coat + as the party came up the stairs, and now, perspiring, proud, embarrassed, + he assumed an attitude at once deprecatory of his endeavors and pointedly + expectant of commendation for the results. (He was a modest youth and a + conscious; after his first sight of her, as she stood in the doorway, it + was several days before he could lift his distressed eyes under her + glance, or, indeed, dare to avail himself of more than a hasty and + fluttering stare at her when her back was turned.) As she entered the + room, he sidled along the wall and laughed sheepishly at nothing. + </p> + <p> + Every chair in the room was ornamented with one of his blue rosettes, tied + carefully (and firmly) to the middle slat of each chair-back. There had + been several yards of ribbon left over, and there was a hard knot of + glossy satin on each of the ink-stands and on the door-knobs; a blue band, + passing around the stovepipe, imparted an antique rakishness suggestive of + the charioteer; and a number of streamers, suspended from a hook in the + ceiling, encouraged a supposition that the employees of the “Herald” + contemplated the intricate festivities of May Day. It needed no genius to + infer that these garnitures had not embellished the editorial chamber + during Mr. Harkless's activity, but, on the contrary, had been put in + place that very morning. Mr. Fisbee had not known of the decorations, and, + as his glance fell upon them, a faint look of pain passed over his brow; + but the girl examined the room with a dancing eye, and there were both + tears and laughter in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful!” she cried. “How beautiful!” She crossed the room and gave + her hand to Ross. “It is Mr. Schofield, isn't it? The ribbons are + delightful. I didn't know Mr. Harkless's room was so pretty.” + </p> + <p> + Ross looked out of the window and laughed as he took her hand (which he + shook with a long up and down motion), but he was set at better ease by + her apparent unrecognition of the fact that the decorations were for her. + “Oh, it ain't much, I reckon,” he replied, and continued to look out of + the window and laugh. + </p> + <p> + She went to the desk and removed her gloves and laid her rain-coat over a + chair near by. “Is this Mr. Harkless's chair?” she asked, and, Fisbee + answering that it was, she looked gravely at it for a moment, passed her + hand gently over the back of it, and then, throwing the rain-cloak over + another chair, said cheerily: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, I think the first thing for us to do will be to dust + everything very carefully.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember I was confident she would know precisely where to begin?” + was Fisbee's earnest whisper in the willing ear of the long foreman. “Not + an instant's indecision, was there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, siree!” replied the other; and, as he went down to the press-room to + hunt for a feather-duster which he thought might be found there, he + collared Bud Tipworthy, who, not admitted to the conclave of his + superiors, was whistling on the rainy stairway. “You hustle and find that + dust brush we used to have. Bud,” said Parker. And presently, as they + rummaged in the nooks and crannies about the machinery, he melted to his + small assistant. “The paper is saved, Buddie—saved by an angel in + light brown. You can tell it by the look of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” said Bud. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Schofield had come, blushing, to join them. “Say, Cale, did you notice + the color of her eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; they're gray.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so, too, show day, and at Kedge Halloway's lecture; but, say, + Cale, they're kind of changeable. When she come in upstairs with you and + Fisbee, they were jest as blue!—near matched the color of our + ribbons.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” repeated Mr. Tipworthy. + </p> + <p> + When the editorial chamber had been made so Beat that it almost glowed—though + it could never be expected to shine as did Fisbee and Caleb Parker and + Ross Schofield that morning—the editor took her seat at the desk and + looked over the few items the gentlemen had already compiled for her + perusal. Mr. Parker explained many technicalities peculiar to the Carlow + “Herald,” translated some phrases of the printing-room, and enabled her to + grasp the amount of matter needed to fill the morrow's issue. + </p> + <p> + When Parker finished, the three incompetents sat watching the little + figure with the expression of hopeful and trusting terriers. She knit her + brow for a second—but she did not betray an instant's indecision. + </p> + <p> + “I think we should have regular market reports,” she announced, + thoughtfully. “I am sure Mr. Harkless would approve. Don't you think he + would?” She turned to Parker. + </p> + <p> + “Market reports!” Mr. Fisbee exclaimed. “I should never have thought of + market reports, nor, do I imagine, would either of my—my associates. + A woman to conceive the idea of market reports!” + </p> + <p> + The editor blushed. “Why, who would, dear, if not a woman, or a + speculator, and I'm not a speculator; and neither are you, and that's the + reason you didn't think of them. So, Mr. Parker, as there is so much + pressure, and if you don't mind continuing to act as reporter as well as + compositor until after to-morrow, and if it isn't too wet—you must + take an umbrella—would it be too much bother if you went around to + all the shops—<i>stores</i>, I mean—to all the grocers', and + the butchers', and that leather place we passed, the tannery?—and if + there's one of those places where they bring cows, would it be too much to + ask you to stop there?—and at the flour-mill, if it isn't too far?—and + at the dry-goods store? And you must take a blank-book and sharpened + pencil, And will you price everything, please, and jot down how much + things are?” + </p> + <p> + Orders received, the impetuous Parker was departing on the instant, when + she stopped him with a little cry: “But you haven't any umbrella!” And she + forced her own, a slender wand, upon him; it bore a cunningly wrought + handle and its fabric was of glistening silk. The foreman, unable to + decline it, thanked her awkwardly, and, as she turned to speak to Fisbee, + bolted out of the door and ran down the steps without unfolding the + umbrella; and as he made for Mr. Martin's emporium, he buttoned it + securely under his long “Prince Albert,” determined that not a drop of + water should touch and ruin so delicate a thing. Thus he carried it, + triumphantly dry, through the course of his reportings of that day. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone the editor laid her hand on Fisbee's arm. “Dear,” she + said, “do you think you would take cold if you went over to the hotel and + made a note of all the arrivals for the last week—and the + departures, too? I noticed that Mr. Harkless always filled two or three—sticks, + isn't it?—with them and things about them, and somehow it 'read' + very nicely. You must ask the landlord all about them; and, if there + aren't any, we can take up the same amount of space lamenting the dull + times, just as he used to. You see I've read the 'Herald' faithfully; + isn't it a good thing I always subscribed for it?” She patted Fisbee's + cheek, and laughed gaily into his mild, vague old eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It won't be this scramble to 'fill up' much longer. I have plans, + gentlemen,” she cried, “and before long we will print news. And we must + buy 'plate matter' instead of 'patent insides'; and I had a talk with the + Associated Press people in Rouen—but that's for afterwhile. And I + went to the hospital this morning before I left. They wouldn't let me see + him again, but they told me all about him, and he's better; and I got Tom + to go to the jail—he was so mystified, he doesn't know what I wanted + it for—and he saw some of those beasts, and I can do a column of + description besides an editorial about them, and I will be fierce enough + to suit Carlow, you may believe that. And I've been talking to Senator + Burns—that is, listening to Senator Burns, which is much stupider—and + I think I can do an article on national politics. I'm not very well up on + local issues yet, but I—” She broke off suddenly. “There! I think we + can get out to-morrow's number without any trouble. By the time you get + back from the hotel, father, I'll have half my stuff written—'written + up,' I mean. Take your big umbrella and go, dear, and please ask at the + express office if my typewriter has come.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed again with sheer delight, like a child, and ran to the corner + and got the cotton umbrella and placed it in the old man's hand. As he + reached the door, she called after him: “Wait!” and went to him and knelt + before him, and, with the humblest, proudest grace in the world, turned up + his trousers to keep them from the mud. Ross Schofield had never + considered Mr. Fisbee a particularly sacred sort of person, but he did + from that moment. The old man made some timid protest, at his daughter's + action, But she answered; “The great ladies used to buckle the Chevalier + Bayard's spurs for him, and you're a great deal nicer than the Chev——<i>You + haven't any rubbers</i>! I don't believe <i>any</i> of you have any + rubbers!” And not until both Fisbee and Mr. Schofield had promised to + purchase overshoes at once, and in the meantime not to step in any + puddles, would she let her father depart upon his errand. He crossed the + Square with the strangest, jauntiest step ever seen in Plattville. Solomon + Tibbs had a warm argument with Miss Selina as to his identity. Miss Selina + maintaining that the figure under the big umbrella—only the legs and + coat-tails were visible to them—was that of a stranger, probably an + Englishman. + </p> + <p> + In the “Herald” office the editor turned, smiling, to the paper's + remaining vassal. “Mr. Schofield, I heard some talk in Rouen of an oil + company that had been formed to prospect for kerosene in Carlow County. Do + you know anything about it?” + </p> + <p> + Ross, surfeited with honor, terror, and possessed by a sweet distress at + finding himself tete-a-tete with the lady, looked at the wall and replied: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's that Eph Watts's foolishness.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know if they have begun to dig for it yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am?” said Ross. + </p> + <p> + “Have they begun the diggings yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; I think not. They've got a contrapshun fixed up about three + mile south. I don't reckon they've begun yet, hardly; they're gittin' the + machinery in place. I heard Eph say they'd begin to bore—<i>dig</i>, + I mean, ma'am, I meant to say dig——” He stopped, utterly + confused and unhappy; and she understood his manly purpose, and knew him + for a gentleman whom she liked. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't be too much surprised,” she said; “but in spite of my + ignorance about such things, I mean to devote a good deal of space to the + oil company; it may come to be of great importance to Carlow. We won't go + into it in to-morrow's paper, beyond an item or so; but do you think you + could possibly find Mr. Watts and ask him for some information as to their + progress, and if it would be too much trouble for him to call here some + time to-morrow afternoon, or the day after? I want him to give me an + interview if he will. Tell him, please, he will very greatly oblige us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he'll come all right,” answered her companion, quickly. “I'll take + Tibbs's buggy and go down there right off. Eph won't lose no time gittin' + <i>here</i>!” And with this encouraging assurance he was flying forth, + when he, like the others, was detained by her solicitous care. She was a + born mother. He protested that in the buggy he would be perfectly + sheltered; besides, there wasn't another umbrella about the place; he <i>liked</i> + to get wet, anyway; had always loved rain. The end of it was that he went + away in a sort of tremor, wearing her rain-cloak over his shoulders, which + garment, as it covered its owner completely when she wore it, hung almost + to his knees. He darted around a corner; and there, breathing deeply, + tenderly removed it; then, borrowing paper and cord at a neighboring + store, wrapped it neatly, and stole back to the printing-office on the + ground floor of the “Herald” building, and left the package in charge of + Bud Tipworthy, mysteriously charging him to care for it as for his own + life, and not to open it, but if the lady so much as set one foot out of + doors before his return, to hand it to her with the message: “He borrowed + another off J. Hankins.” + </p> + <p> + Left alone, the lady went to the desk and stood for a time looking gravely + at Harkless's chair. She touched it gently, as she had touched it once + before that morning, and then she spoke to it as if he were sitting there, + and as she would not have spoken, had he been sitting there. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't want gratitude, did you?” she whispered, with sad lips. + </p> + <p> + Soon she smiled at the blue ribbons, patted the chair gaily on the back, + and, seizing upon pencil and pad, dashed into her work with rare energy. + She bent low over the desk, her pencil moving rapidly, and, except for a + momentary interruption from Mr. Tipworthy, she seemed not to pause for + breath; certainly her pencil did not. She had covered many sheets when her + father returned; and, as he came in softly, not to disturb her, she was so + deeply engrossed she did not hear him; nor did she look up when Parker + entered, but pursued the formulation of her fast-flying ideas with the + same single purpose and abandon; so the two men sat and waited while their + chieftainess wrote absorbedly. At last she glanced up and made a little + startled exclamation at seeing them there, and then gave them cheery + greeting. Each placed several scribbled sheets before her, and she, having + first assured herself that Fisbee had bought his overshoes, and having + expressed a fear that Mr. Parker had found her umbrella too small, as he + looked damp (and indeed he <i>was</i> damp), cried praises on their notes + and offered the reporters great applause. + </p> + <p> + “It is all so splendid!” she cried. “How could you do it so quickly? And + in the rain, too! This is exactly what we need. I've done most of the + things I mentioned, I think, and made a draught of some plans for + hereafter. And about that man's coming out for Congress, I must tell you + it is my greatest hope that he will. We can let it go until he does, and + then——But doesn't it seem to you that it would be a good + notion for the 'Herald' to have a woman's page—'For Feminine + Readers,' or, 'Of Interest to Women'—once a week?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman's page!” exclaimed Fisbee. “I could never have thought of that, + could you, Mr. Parker?” + </p> + <p> + “And now,” she continued, “I think that when I've gone over what I've + written and beat it into better shape I shall be ready for something to + eat. Isn't it almost time for luncheon?” + </p> + <p> + This simple, and surely natural, inquiry had a singular, devastating + effect upon her hearers. They looked upon each other with fallen jaws and + complete stupefaction. The old man began to grow pale, and Parker glared + about him with a wild eye. Fortunately, the editor was too busy at her + work to notice their agitation; she applied herself to making alterations + here and there, sometimes frowningly crossing out whole lines and even + paragraphs, sometimes smiling and beaming at the writing; and, as she bent + earnestly over the paper, against the darkness of the rainy day, the + glamour about her fair hair was like a light in the room. To the minds of + her two companions, this lustre was a gentle but unbearable accusation; + and each dreaded the moment when her Work should be finished, with a great + dread. There was a small “store-room” adjoining the office, and presently + Mr. Parker, sweating at the brow, walked in there. The old man gave him a + look of despairing reproach, but in a moment the foreman's voice was + heard: “Oh, Mr. Fisbee, can you step here a second?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed!” was Fisbee's reply; and he fled guiltily into the + “store-room,” and Parker closed the door. They stood knee-deep in the + clutter and lumber, facing each other abjectly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we're both done, anyway, Mr. Fisbee,” remarked the foreman. + </p> + <p> + “Indubitably, Mr. Parker,” the old man answered; “it is too true.” + </p> + <p> + “Never to think a blame thing about dinner for her!” Parker continued, + remorsefully. “And her a lady that can turn off copy like a rotary + snowplough in a Dakota blizzard! Did you see the sheets she's piled up on + that desk?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no cafe—nothing—in Plattville, that could prepare + food worthy of her,” groaned Fisbee. “Nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “And we never thought of it. Never made a single arrangement. Never struck + us she didn't live on keeping us dry and being good, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I go there and tell her that?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “She cannot go to the hotel——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess not! It ain't fit for her. Lum's table is hard enough on a + strong man. Landis doesn't know a good cake from a Fiji missionary + pudding. I don't expect pie is much her style, and, besides, the Palace + Hotel pies—well!—the boss was a mighty uncomplaining man, but + I used to notice his articles on field drainage got kind of sour and + low-spirited when they'd been having more than the regular allowance of + pie for dinner. She can't go there anyway; it's no use; it's after two + o'clock, and the dining-room shuts off at one. I wonder what kind of cake + she likes best.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said the perplexed Fisbee. “If we ask her—” + </p> + <p> + “If we could sort of get it out of her diplomatically, we could telegraph + to Rouen for a good one.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” said the other, brightening up. “You try it, Mr. Parker. I fear I + have not much skill in diplomacy, but if you——” + </p> + <p> + The compositor's mouth drooped at the corners, and he interrupted + gloomily: “But it wouldn't get here till to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “True; it would not.” + </p> + <p> + They fell into a despondent reverie, with their chins in their bosoms. + There came a cheerful voice from the next room, but to them it brought no + cheer; in their ears it sounded weak from the need of food and faint with + piteous reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Father, aren't you coming to have luncheon with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Parker, what are we to do?” whispered the old man, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Is it too far to take her to Briscoes'?” + </p> + <p> + “In the rain?” + </p> + <p> + “Take her with you to Tibbs's.” + </p> + <p> + “Their noon meal is long since over; and their larder is not—is not—extensive.” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” called the girl. She was stirring; they could hear her moving + about the room. + </p> + <p> + “You've got to go in and tell her,” said the foreman, desperately, and + together they stumbled into the room. A small table at one end of it was + laid with a snowy cloth and there was a fragrance of tea, and, amidst + various dainties, one caught a glimpse of cold chicken and lettuce leaves. + Fisbee stopped, dumfounded, but the foreman, after stammeringly declining + an invitation to partake, alleging that his own meal awaited, sped down to + the printing-room, and seized upon Bud Tipworthy with a heavy hand. + </p> + <p> + “Where did all that come from, up there?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave go me! <i>What</i> 'all that'?” + </p> + <p> + “All that tea and chicken and salad and wafers—all kinds of things; + sardines, for all I know!” + </p> + <p> + “They come in Briscoes' buckboard while you was gone. Briscoes sent 'em in + a basket; I took 'em up and she set the basket under the table. You'd seen + it if you'd 'a' looked. <i>Quit</i> that!” And it was unjust to cuff the + perfectly innocent and mystified Bud, and worse not to tell him what the + punishment was for. + </p> + <p> + Before the day was over, system had been introduced, and the “Herald” was + running on it: and all that warm, rainy afternoon, the editor and Fisbee + worked in the editorial rooms, Parker and Bud and Mr. Schofield (after his + return with the items and a courteous message from Ephraim Watts) bent + over the forms downstairs, and Uncle Xenophon was cleaning the store-room + and scrubbing the floor. + </p> + <p> + An extraordinary number of errands took the various members of the + printing force up to see the editor-in-chief, literally to see the + editor-in-chief; it was hard to believe that the presence had not flown—hard + to keep believing, without the repeated testimony of sight, that the dingy + room upstairs was actually the setting for their jewel; and a jewel they + swore she was. The printers came down chuckling and gurgling after each + interview; it was partly the thought that she belonged to the “Herald,” <i>their</i> + paper. Once Ross, as he cut down one of the temporarily distended + advertisements, looked up and caught the foreman giggling to himself. + </p> + <p> + “What in the name of common-sense you laughin' at, Cale?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “What are <i>you</i> laughing at?” rejoined the other. + </p> + <p> + “I dunno!” + </p> + <p> + The day wore on, wet and dreary outside, but all within the “Herald's” + bosom was snug and busy and murmurous with the healthy thrum of life and + prosperity renewed. Toward six o'clock, system accomplished, the new + guiding-spirit was deliberating on a policy as Harkless would conceive a + policy, were he there, when Minnie Briscoe ran joyously up the stairs, + plunged into the room, waterproofed and radiant, and caught her friend in + her eager arms, and put an end to policy for that day. + </p> + <p> + But policy and labor did not end at twilight every day; there were + evenings, as in the time of Harkless, when lamps shone from the upper + windows of the “Herald” building. For the little editor worked hard, and + sometimes she worked late; she always worked early. She made some mistakes + at first, and one or two blunders which she took more seriously than any + one else did. But she found a remedy for all such results of her + inexperience, and she developed experience. She set at her task with the + energy of her youthfulness and no limit to her ambition, and she felt that + Harkless had prepared the way for a wide expansion of the paper's + interests; wider than he knew. She had a belief that there were + possibilities for a country newspaper, and she brought a fresh point of + view to operate in a situation where Harkless had fallen, perhaps, too + much in the rut; and she watched every chance with a keen eye and looked + ahead of her with clear foresight. What she waited and yearned for and + dreaded, was the time when a copy of the new “Herald” should be placed in + the trembling hands of the man who lay in the Rouen hospital. Then, she + felt, if he, unaware of her identity, should place everything in her hands + unreservedly, that would be a tribute to her work—and how hard she + would labor to deserve it! After a time, she began to realize that, as his + representative and the editor of the “Herald,” she had become a factor in + district politics. It took her breath—but with a gasp of delight, + for there was something she wanted to do. + </p> + <p> + Above all, she brought a light heart to her work. One evening in the + latter part of that first week of the new regime, Parker perceived Bud + Tipworthy standing in the doorway of the printing-room, beckoning him + silently to come without. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Buddie?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen. She's singin' over her work.” + </p> + <p> + Parker stepped outside. On the pavement, people had stopped to listen; + they stood in the shadow, looking up with parted lips at the open, lighted + Windows, whence came a clear, soft, reaching voice, lifted in song; now it + swelled louder, unconsciously; now its volume was more slender and it + melted liquidly into the night; again, it trembled and rose and dwelt in + the ear, strong and pure; and, hearing it, you sighed with unknown + longings. It was the “Angels' Serenade.” + </p> + <p> + Bud Tipworthy's sister, Cynthia, was with him, and Parker saw that she + turned from the window and that she was crying, quietly; she put her hand + on the boy's shoulder and patted it with a forlorn gesture which, to the + foreman's eye, was as graceful as it was sad. He moved closer to Bud and + his big hand fell on Cynthia's brother's other shoulder, as he realized + that red hair could look pretty sometimes; and he wondered why the + editor's singing made Cynthy cry; and at the same time he decided to be + mighty good to Bud henceforth. The spell of night and song was on him; + that and something more; for it is a strange, inexplicable fact that the + most practical chief ever known to the “Herald” had a singularly + sentimental influence over her subordinates, from the moment of her + arrival. Under Harkless's domination there had been no more steadfast + bachelors in Carlow than Ross Schofield and Caleb Parker, and, like + timorous youths in a graveyard, daring and mocking the ghosts in order to + assuage their own fears, they had so jibed and jeered at the married state + that there was talk of urging the minister to preach at them; but now let + it be recorded that at the moment Caleb laid his hand on Bud's other + shoulder, his associate, Mr. Schofield, was enjoying a walk in the far end + of town with a widow, and it is not to be doubted that Mr. Tipworthy's + heart, also, was no longer in his possession, though, as it was after + eight o'clock, the damsel of his desire had probably long since retired to + her couch. + </p> + <p> + For some faint light on the cause of these spells, we must turn to a + comment made by the invaluable Mr. Martin some time afterward. Referring + to the lady to whose voice he was now listening in silence (which shows + how great the enthralling of her voice was), he said: “When you saw her, + or heard her, or managed to be around, any, where she was, why, if you + couldn't git up no hope of marryin' <i>her</i>, you wanted to marry <i>somebody</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lige Willetts, riding idly by, drew rein in front of the lighted + windows, and listened with the others. Presently he leaned from his horse + and whispered to a man near him: + </p> + <p> + “I know that song.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” whispered the other. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he and I heard her sing it, the night he was shot.” + </p> + <p> + “So!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. It's by Beethoven.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a seraphic song,” continued Lige. + </p> + <p> + “No!” exclaimed his friend; then, shaking his head, he sighed: “Well, it's + mighty sweet.” + </p> + <p> + The song was suddenly woven into laughter in the unseen chamber, and the + lights in the windows went out, and a small lady and a tall lady and a + thin old man, all three laughing and talking happily, came down and drove + off in the Briscoe buckboard. The little crowd dispersed quietly; Lige + Willetts plucked to his horse and cantered away to overtake the buckboard; + William Todd took his courage between his teeth, and, the song ringing in + his ears, made a desperate resolve to call upon Miss Bardlock that + evening, in spite of its being a week day, and Caleb Parker gently and + stammeringly asked Cynthia if she would wait till he shut up the shop, and + let him walk home with her and Bud. + </p> + <p> + Soon the Square was quiet as before, and there was naught but peace under + the big stars of July. + </p> + <p> + That day the news had come that Harkless, after weeks of alternate + improvement and relapse, hazardously lingering in the borderland of + shadows, had passed the crucial point and was convalescent. His recovery + was assured. But from their first word of him, from the message that he + was found and was alive, none of the people of Carlow had really doubted + it. They are simple country people, and they know that God is good. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. NETTLES + </h2> + <p> + Two men who have been comrades and classmates at the Alma Mater of John + Harkless and Tom Meredith; two who have belonged to the same dub and + roomed in the same entry; who have pooled their clothes and money in a + common stock for either to draw on; who have shared the fortunes of + athletic war, triumphing together, sometimes with an intense triumphancy; + two men who were once boys getting hazed together, hazing in no unkindly + fashion in their turn, always helping each other to stuff brains the night + before an examination and to blow away the suffocating statistics like + foam the night after; singing, wrestling, dancing, laughing, succeeding + together, through the four kindest years of life; two such brave + companions, meeting in the after years, are touchingly tender and + caressive of each other, but the tenderness takes the shy, United States + form of insulting epithets, and the caresses are blows. If John Harkless + had been in health, uninjured and prosperous, Tom Meredith could no more + have thrown himself on his knees beside him and called him “old friend” + than he could have danced on the slack-wire. + </p> + <p> + One day they thought the patient sleeping; the nurse fanned him softly, + and Meredith had stolen in and was sitting by the cot. One of Harkless's + eyes had been freed of the bandage, and, when Tom came in, it was closed; + but, by and by, Meredith became aware that the unbandaged eye had opened + and that it was suffused with a pathetic moisture; yet it twinkled with a + comprehending light, and John knew that it was his old Tom Meredith who + was sitting beside him, with the air of having sat there very often + before. But this bald, middle-aged young man, not without elegance, yet a + prosperous burgher for all that—was <i>this</i> the slim, rollicking + broth of a boy whose thick auburn hair used to make one streak of flame as + he spun around the bases on a home run? Without doubt it was the + stupendous fact, wrought by the alchemy of seven years. + </p> + <p> + For, though seven years be a mere breath in the memories of the old, it is + a long transfiguration to him whose first youth is passing, and who finds + unsolicited additions accruing to some parts of his being and strange + deprivations in others, and upon whom the unhappy realization begins to be + borne in, that his is no particular case, and that he of all the world is + not to be spared, but, like his forbears, must inevitably wriggle in the + disguising crucible of time. And, though men accept it with apparently + patient humor, the first realization that people do grow old, and that + they do it before they have had time to be young, is apt to come like a + shock. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps not even in the interminable months of Carlow had Harkless + realized the length of seven years so keenly as he did when he beheld his + old friend at his bedside. How men may be warped apart in seven years, + especially in the seven years between twenty-three and thirty! At the + latter age you may return to the inseparable of seven years before and + speak not the same language; you find no heartiness to carry on with each + other after half an hour. Not so these classmates, who had known each + other to the bone. + </p> + <p> + Ah, yes, it was Tom Meredith, the same lad, in spite of his masquerade of + flesh; and Helen was right: Tom had not forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “It's the old horse-thief!” John murmured, tremulously. + </p> + <p> + “You go plumb to thunder,” answered Meredith between gulps. + </p> + <p> + When he was well enough, they had long talks; and at other times Harkless + lay by the window, and breathed deep of the fresh air, while Meredith + attended to his correspondence for him, and read the papers to him. But + there was one phenomenon of literature the convalescent insisted upon + observing for himself, and which he went over again and again, to the + detriment of his single unswathed eye, and this was the Carlow “Herald.” + </p> + <p> + The first letter he had read to him was one from Fisbee stating that the + crippled forces left in charge had found themselves almost distraught in + their efforts to carry on the paper (as their chief might conclude for + himself on perusal of the issues of the first fortnight of his absence), + and they had made bold to avail themselves of the services of a young + relative of the writer's from a distant city—a capable journalist, + who had no other employment for the present, and who had accepted the + responsibilities of the “Herald” temporarily. There followed a note from + Parker, announcing that Mr. Fisbee's relative was a bird, and was the kind + to make the “Herald” hum. They hoped Mr. Harkless would approve of their + bespeaking the new hand on the sheet; the paper must have suspended + otherwise. Harkless, almost overcome by his surprise that Fisbee possessed + a relative, dictated a hearty and grateful indorsement of their action, + and, soon after, received a typewritten rejoinder, somewhat complicated in + the reading, because of the numerous type errors and their corrections. + The missive was signed “H. Fisbee,” in a strapping masculine hand that + suggested six feet of enterprise and muscle spattering ink on its shirt + sleeves. + </p> + <p> + John groaned and fretted over the writhings of the “Herald's” headless + fortnight, but, perusing the issues produced under the domination of H. + Fisbee, he started now and then, and chuckled at some shrewd felicities of + management, or stared, puzzled, over an oddity, but came to a feeling of + vast relief; and, when the question of H. Fisbee's salary was settled and + the tenancy assured, he sank into a repose of mind. H. Fisbee might be an + eccentric fellow, but he knew his business, and, apparently, he knew + something of other business as well, for he wrote at length concerning the + Carlow oil fields, urging Harkless to take shares in Mr. Watts's company + while the stock was very low, two wells having been sunk without + satisfactory results. H. Fisbee explained with exceeding technicality his + reasons for believing that the third well would strike oil. + </p> + <p> + But with his ease of mind regarding the “Herald,” Harkless found himself + possessed by apathy. He fretted no longer to get back to Plattville. With + the prospect of return it seemed an emptiness glared at him from hollow + sockets, and the thought of the dreary routine he must follow when he went + back gave him the same faint nausea he had felt the evening after the + circus. And, though it was partly the long sweat of anguish which had + benumbed him, his apathy was pierced, at times, by a bodily horror of the + scene of his struggle. At night he faced the grotesque masks of the + Cross-Roads men and the brutal odds again; over and over he felt the + blows, and clapped his hand to where the close fire of Bob Skillett's + pistol burned his body. + </p> + <p> + And, except for the release from pain, he rejoiced less and less in his + recovery. He remembered a tedious sickness of his childhood and how + beautiful he had thought the world, when he began to get well, how + electric the open air blowing in at the window, how green the smile of + earth, and how glorious to live and see the open day again. He had none of + that feeling now. No pretty vision came again near his bed, and he beheld + his convalescence as a mistake. He had come to a jumping-off place in his + life—why had they not let him jump? What was there left but the + weary plod, plod, and dust of years? + </p> + <p> + He could have gone back to Carlow in better spirit if it had not been for + the few dazzling hours of companionship which had transformed it to a + paradise, but, gone, left a desert. She, by the sight of her, had made him + wish to live, and now, that he saw her no more, she made him wish to die. + How little she had cared for him, since she told him she did not care, + when he had not meant to ask her. He was weary, and at last he longed to + find the line of least resistance and follow it; he had done hard things + for a long time, but now he wanted to do something easy. Under the new + genius—who was already urging that the paper should be made a daily—the + “Herald” could get along without him; and the “White-Caps” would bother + Carlow no longer; and he thought that Kedge Halloway, an honest man, if a + dull one, was sure to be renominated for Congress at the district + convention which was to meet at Plattville in September—these were + his responsibilities, and they did not fret him. Everything was all right. + There was only one thought which thrilled him: his impression that she had + come to the hospital to see him was not a delusion; she had really been + there—as a humane, Christian person, he said to himself. One day he + told Meredith of his vision, and Tom explained that it was no conjuration + of fever. + </p> + <p> + “But I thought she'd gone abroad,” said Harkless, staring. + </p> + <p> + “They had planned to,” answered his friend. “They gave it up for some + reason. Uncle Henry decided that he wasn't strong enough for the trip, or + something.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—is she—is she here?” + </p> + <p> + “No; Helen is never here in summer. When she came back from Plattville, + she went north, somewhere, to join people she had promised, I think.” + Meredith had as yet no inkling or suspicion that his adopted cousin had + returned to Plattville. What he told Harkless was what his aunt had told + him, and he accepted it as the truth. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sherwood (for she was both Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood) had always + considered Fisbee an enigmatic rascal, and she regarded Helen's defection + to him in the light of a family scandal to be hushed up, as well as a + scalding pain to be borne. Some day the unkind girl-errant would “return + to her wisdom and her duty”; meanwhile, the less known about it the + better. + </p> + <p> + Meredith talked very little to Harkless of his cousin, beyond lightly + commenting on the pleasure and oddity of their meeting, and telling him of + her friendly anxiety about his recovery; he said she had perfect + confidence from the first that he would recover. Harkless had said a word + or two in his delirium and a word or two out of it, and these, with once a + sudden brow of suffering, and a difference Meredith felt in Helen's manner + when they stood together by the sick man's bedside, had given the young + man a strong impression, partly intuitive, that in spite of the short time + the two had known each other, something had happened between them at + Plattville, and he ventured a guess which was not far from the truth. + Altogether, the thing was fairly plain—a sad lover is not so hard to + read—and Meredith was sorry, for they were the two people he liked + best on earth. + </p> + <p> + The young man carried his gay presence daily to the hospital, where + Harkless now lay in a pleasant room of his own, and he tried to keep his + friend cheery, which was an easy matter on the surface, for the journalist + turned ever a mask of jokes upon him; but it was not hard for one who + liked him as Meredith did to see through to the melancholy underneath. + After his one reference to Helen, John was entirely silent of her, and + Meredith came to feel that both would be embarrassed if occasion should + rise and even her name again be mentioned between them. + </p> + <p> + He did not speak of his family connection with Mr. Fisbee to the invalid, + for, although the connection was distant, the old man was, in a way, the + family skeleton, and Meredith had a strong sense of the decency of reserve + in such a matter. There was one thing Fisbee's shame had made the old man + unable not to suppress when he told Parker his story; the wraith of a + torrid palate had pursued him from his youth, and the days of drink and + despair from which Harkless had saved him were not the first in his life. + Meredith wondered as much as did Harkless where Fisbee had picked up the + journalistic “young relative” who signed his extremely business-like + missives in such a thundering hand. It was evident that the old man was + grateful to his patron, but it did not occur to Meredith that Fisbee's + daughter might have an even stronger sense of gratitude, one so strong + that she could give all her young strength to work for the man who had + been good to her father. + </p> + <p> + There came a day in August when Meredith took the convalescent from the + hospital in a victoria, and installed him in his own home. Harkless's + clothes hung on his big frame limply; however, there was a drift of light + in his eyes as they drove slowly through the pretty streets of Rouen. The + bandages and splints and drugs and swathings were all gone now, and his + sole task was to gather strength. The thin face was sallow no longer; it + was the color of evening shadows; indeed he lay among the cushions + seemingly no more than a gaunt shadow of the late afternoon, looking old + and gray and weary. They rolled along abusing each other, John sometimes + gratefully threatening his friend with violence. + </p> + <p> + The victoria passed a stone house with wide lawns and an inhospitable air + of wealth and importunate rank; over the sward two peacocks swung, + ambulating like caravals in a green sea; and one expected a fine lady to + come smiling and glittering from the door. Oddly enough, though he had + never seen the place before, it struck Harkless with a sense of + familiarity. “Who lives there?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Who lives there? On the left? Why that—that is the Sherwood place,” + Meredith answered, in a tone which sounded as if he were not quite sure of + it, but inclined to think his information correct. Harkless relapsed into + silence. + </p> + <p> + Meredith's home was a few blocks further up the same street; a capacious + house in the Western fashion of the Seventies. In front, on the lawn, + there was a fountain with a leaping play of water; maples and shrubbery + were everywhere; and here and there stood a stiff sentinel of Lombardy + poplar. It was all cool and incongruous and comfortable; and, on the + porch, sheltered from publicity by a multitude of palms and flowering + plants, a white-jacketed negro appeared with a noble smile and a more + important tray, whereon tinkled bedewed glasses and a crystal pitcher, + against whose sides the ice clinked sweetly. There was a complement of + straws. + </p> + <p> + When they had helped him to an easy chair on the porch, Harkless whistled + luxuriously. “Ah, my bachelor!” he exclaimed, as he selected a straw. + </p> + <p> + “'Who would fardels bear?'” rejoined Mr. Meredith. Then came to the other + a recollection of an auburn-haired ball player on whom the third strike + had once been called while his eyes wandered tenderly to the grandstand, + where the prettiest girl of that commencement week was sitting. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgot the 'Indian Princess'?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You're a dull old person,” Tom laughed. “Haven't you discovered that 'tis + they who forget us? And why shouldn't they? Do <i>we</i> remember well?—anybody + except just us two, I mean, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I've a notion we do, sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + The other set his glass on the tray, and lit his cigarette. “Yes; when + we're unsuccessful. Then I think we do.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be true.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is. If a lady wishes to make an impression on me that is + worth making, let her let me make none on her.” + </p> + <p> + “You think it is always our vanity?” + </p> + <p> + “Analyze it as your revered Thomas does and you shall reach the same + conclusion. Let a girl reject you and—” Meredith broke off, cursing + himself inwardly, and, rising, cried gaily: “What profiteth it a man if he + gain the whole wisdom in regard to women and loseth not his own heart? And + neither of us is lacking a heart—though it may be; one can't tell, + one's self; one has to find out about that from some girl. At least, I'm + rather sure of mine; it's difficult to give a tobacco-heart away; it's + drugged on the market. I'm going to bring out the dogs; I'm spending the + summer at home just to give them daily exercise.” + </p> + <p> + This explanation of his continued presence in Rouen struck John as quite + as plausible as Meredith's more seriously alleged reasons for not joining + his mother and sister, at Winter Harbor. (He possessed a mother, and, as + he explained, he had also sisters to satiety, in point of numbers.) + Harkless knew that Tom had stayed to look after him; and he thought there + never was so poor a peg as himself whereon to hang the warm mantle of such + a friendship. He knew that other mantles of affection and kindliness hung + on that self-same peg, for he had been moved by the letters and visits + from Carlow people, and he had heard the story of their descent upon the + hospital, and of the march on the Cross-Roads. Many a good fellow, too, + had come to see him during his better days—from Judge Briscoe, + openly tender and solicitous, to the embarrassed William Todd, who fiddled + at his hat and explained that, being as he was in town on business (a + palpable fiction) he thought he'd look in to see if “they was any word + would wish to be sent down to our city.” The good will the sick man had + from every one touched him, and made him feel unworthy, and he could see + nothing he had done to deserve it. Mr. Meredith could (and would not—openly, + at least) have explained to him that it made not a great deal of + difference what he did; it was what people thought he was. + </p> + <p> + His host helped him upstairs after dinner, and showed him the room + prepared for his occupancy. Harkless sank, sighing with weakness, into a + deep chair, and Meredith went to a window-seat and stretched himself out + for a smoke and chat. + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't it beat your time,” he said, cheerily, “to think of what's become + of all the old boys? They turn up so differently from what we expected, + when they turn up at all. We sized them up all right so far as character + goes, I fancy, but we couldn't size up the chances of life. Take poor old + Pickle Haines: who'd have dreamed Pickle would shoot himself over a + bankruptcy? I dare say that wasn't all of it—might have been + cherchez la femme, don't you think? What do you make of Pickle's case, + John?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. Harkless's chair was directly in front of the + mantel-piece, and upon the carved wooden shelf, amongst tobacco-jars and + little curios, cotillion favors and the like, there were scattered a + number of photographs. One of these was that of a girl who looked straight + out at you from a filigree frame; there was hardly a corner of the room + where you could have stood without her clear, serious eyes seeming to rest + upon yours. + </p> + <p> + “Cherchez la femme?” repeated Tom, puffing unconsciously. “Pickle was a + good fellow, but he had the deuce of an eye for a girl. Do you remember—” + He stopped short, and saw the man and the photograph looking at each + other. Too late, he unhappily remembered that he had meant, and forgotten, + to take that photograph out of the room before he brought Harkless in. Now + he would have to leave it; and Helen Sherwood was not the sort of girl, + even in a flat presentment, to be continually thrown in the face of a man + who had lost her. And it always went hard, Tom reflected, with men who + stretched vain hands to Helen, only to lose her. But there was one, he + thought, whose outstretched hands might not prove so vain. Why couldn't + she have cared for John Harkless? Deuce take the girl, did she want to + marry an emperor? He looked at Harkless, and pitied him with an almost + tearful compassion. A feverish color dwelt in the convalescent's cheek; + the apathy that had dulled his eyes was there no longer; instead, they + burned with a steady fire. The image returned his unwavering gaze with + inscrutable kindness. + </p> + <p> + “You heard that Pickle shot himself, didn't you?” Meredith asked. There + was no answer; John did not hear him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that poor Jeny Haines killed himself, last March?” Tom said + sharply. + </p> + <p> + There was only silence in the room. Meredith got up and rattled some tongs + in the empty fireplace, but the other did not move or notice him in any + way. + </p> + <p> + Meredith set the tongs down, and went quietly out of the room, leaving his + friend to that mysterious interview. + </p> + <p> + When he came back, after a remorseful cigarette in the yard, Harkless was + still sitting, motionless, looking up at the photograph above the + mantel-piece. + </p> + <p> + They drove abroad every day, at first in the victoria, and, as Harkless's + strength began to come back, in a knock-about cart of Tom's, a light trail + of blue smoke floating back wherever the two friends passed. And though + the country editor grew stronger in the pleasant, open city, Meredith felt + that his apathy and listlessness only deepened, and he suspected that, in + Harkless's own room, where the photograph reigned, the languor departed + for the time, making way for a destructive fire. Judge Briscoe, paying a + second visit to Rouen, told Tom, in an aside, that their friend did not + seem to be the same man. He was altered and aged beyond belief, the old + gentleman whispered sadly. + </p> + <p> + Meredith decided that his guest needed enlivening—something to take + him out of himself; he must be stirred up to rub against people once more. + And therefore, one night he made a little company for him: two or three + apparently betrothed very young couples, for whom it was rather dull, + after they had looked their fill of Harkless (it appeared that every one + was curious to see him); and three or four married young couples, for whom + the entertainment seemed rather diverting in an absent-minded way (they + had the air of remembering that they had forgotten the baby); and three or + four bachelors, who seemed contented in any place where they were allowed + to smoke; and one widower, whose manner indicated that any occasion + whatever was gay enough for him; and four or five young women, who + (Meredith explained to John) were of their host's age, and had been “left + over” out of the set he grew up with; and for these the modest party took + on a hilarious and chipper character. “It is these girls that have let the + men go by because they didn't see any good enough; they're the jolly + souls!” the one widower remarked, confidentially. “They've been at it a + long while, and they know how, and they're light-hearted as robins. They + have more fun than people who have responsibilities.” + </p> + <p> + All of these lively demoiselles fluttered about Harkless with + commiserative pleasantries, and, in spite of his protestations, made him + recline in the biggest and deepest chair on the porch, where they + surfeited him with kindness and grouped about him with extra cushions and + tenderness for a man who had been injured. No one mentioned the fact that + he had been hurt; it was not spoken of, though they wished mightily he + would tell them the story they had read luridly in the public prints. They + were very good to him. One of them, in particular, a handsome, dark, + kind-eyed girl, constituted herself at once his cicerone in Rouen gossip + and his waiting-maid. She sat by him, and saw that his needs (and his + not-needs, too) were supplied and oversupplied; she could not let him + move, and anticipated his least wish, though he was now amply able to help + himself; and she fanned him as if he were a dying consumptive. + </p> + <p> + They sat on Meredith's big porch in the late twilight and ate a + substantial refection, and when this was finished, a buzz of nonsense rose + from all quarters, except the remote corners where the youthful affianced + ones had defensively stationed themselves behind a rampart of plants. + They, having eaten, had naught to do, and were only waiting a decent hour + for departure. Laughing voices passed up and down the street, and mingled + with the rhythmic plashing of Meredith's fountain, and, beyond the + shrubberies and fence, one caught glimpses of the light dresses of women + moving to and fro, and of people sitting bareheaded on neighboring lawns + to enjoy the twilight. Now and then would pass, with pipe and dog, the + beflanneled figure of an undergraduate, home for vacation, or a trio of + youths in knickerbockers, or a band of young girls, or both trio and band + together; and from a cross street, near by, came the calls and laughter of + romping children and the pulsating whirr of a lawn-mower: This sound + Harkless remarked as a ceaseless accompaniment to life in Rouen; even in + the middle of the night there was always some unfortunate, cutting grass. + </p> + <p> + When the daylight was all gone, and the stars had crept out, strolling + negroes patrolled the sidewalks, thrumming mandolins and guitars, and + others came and went, singing, making the night Venetian. The untrained, + joyous voices, chording eerily in their sweet, racial minors, came on the + air, sometimes from far away. But there swung out a chorus from fresh, + Aryan throats, in the house south of Meredith's: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Where, oh where, are the grave old Seniors? + Safe, now, in the wide, wide world!” + </pre> + <p> + “Doesn't that thrill you, boy?” said Meredith, joining the group about + Harkless's chair. “Those fellows are Sophomores, class of heaven knows + what. <i>Aren't</i> you feeling a fossil. Father Abraham?” + </p> + <p> + A banjo chattered on the lawn to the north, and soon a mixed chorus of + girls and boys sang from there: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O, 'Arriet, I'm waiting, waiting alone out 'ere.” + </pre> + <p> + Then a piano across the street sounded the dearthful harmonies of Chopin's + Funeral March. + </p> + <p> + “You may take your choice,” remarked Meredith, flicking a spark over the + rail in the ash of his cigar, “Chopping or Chevalier.” + </p> + <p> + “Chopin, my friend,” said the lady who had attached herself to Harkless. + She tapped Tom's shoulder with her fan and smiled, graciously corrective. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Miss Hinsdale,” he answered, gratefully. “And as I, perhaps, + had better say, since otherwise there might be a pause and I am the host, + we have a wide selection. In addition to what is provided at present, I + predict that within the next ten minutes a talented girl who lives two + doors south will favor us with the Pilgrims' Chorus, piano arrangement, + break down in the middle, and drift, into 'Rastus on Parade,' while a + double quartette of middle-aged colored gentlemen under our Jim will make + choral offering in our own back yard.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Tom,” exclaimed Miss Hinsdale, “you forget Wetherford Swift!” + </p> + <p> + “I could stand it all,” put forth the widower, “if it were not for + Wetherford Swift.” + </p> + <p> + “When is Miss Sherwood coming home?” asked one of the ladies. “Why does + she stay away and leave him to his sufferings?” + </p> + <p> + “Us to his sufferings,” substituted a bachelor. “He is just beginning; + listen.” + </p> + <p> + Through all the other sounds of music, there penetrated from an unseen + source, a sawish, scraped, vibration of catgut, pathetic, insistent, + painstaking, and painful beyond belief. + </p> + <p> + “He is in a terrible way to-night,” said the widower. + </p> + <p> + Miss Hinsdale laughed. “Worse every night. The violinist is young + Wetherford Swift,” she explained to Harkless. “He is very much in love, + and it doesn't agree with him. He used to be such a pleasant boy, but last + winter he went quite mad over Helen Sherwood, Mr. Meredith's cousin, our + beauty, you know—I am so sorry she isn't here; you'd be interested + in meeting her, I'm sure—and he took up the violin.” + </p> + <p> + “It is said that his family took up chloroform at the same time,” said the + widower. + </p> + <p> + “His music is a barometer,” continued the lady, “and by it the + neighborhood nightly observes whether Miss Sherwood has been nice to him + or not.” + </p> + <p> + “It is always exceedingly plaintive,” explained another. + </p> + <p> + “Except once,” rejoined Miss Hinsdale. “He played jigs when she came home + from somewhere or other, in June.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Tosti's 'Let Me Die,' the very next evening,” remarked the + widower. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said one of the bachelors, “but his joy was sadder for us than his + misery. Hear him now.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he means it for 'What's this dull town to me,'” observed another, + with some rancor. “I would willingly make the town sufficiently exciting + for him—” + </p> + <p> + “If there were not an ordinance against the hurling of missiles,” finished + the widower. + </p> + <p> + The piano executing the funeral march ceased to execute, discomfited by + the persistent and overpowering violin; the banjo and the coster-songs + were given over; even the collegians' music was defeated; and the + neighborhood was forced to listen to the dauntless fiddle, but not without + protest, for there came an indignant, spoken chorus from the quarter + whence the college songs had issued: “Ya-a-ay! Wetherford, put it away! <i>She'll</i> + come back!” The violin played on. + </p> + <p> + “We all know each other here, you see, Mr. Harkless,” Miss Hinsdale smiled + benignantly. + </p> + <p> + “They didn't bother Mr. Wetherford Swift,” said the widower. “Not that + time. Do you hear him?—'Could ye come back to me, Douglas'?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it isn't absence that is killing him and his friends,” cried one + of the young women. “It is Brainard Macauley.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a mistake,” said Tom Meredith, as easily as he could. “There goes + Jim's double quartette. Listen, and you will hear them try to——” + </p> + <p> + But the lady who had mentioned Brainard Macauley cried indignantly: “You + try to change the subject the moment it threatens to be interesting. They + were together everywhere until the day she went away; they danced and 'sat + out' together through the whole of one country-club party; they drove + every afternoon; they took long walks, and he was at the Sherwoods' every + evening of her last week in town. 'That is a mistake!'” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it looks rather bleak for Wetherford,” said the widower. “I + went up to the 'Journal' office on business, one day, and there sat Miss + Sherwood in Macauley's inner temple, chatting with a reporter, while + Brainard finished some work.” + </p> + <p> + “Helen is eccentric,” said the former speaker, “but she's not quite that + eccentric, unless they were engaged. It is well understood that they will + announce it in the fall.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Hinsdale kindly explained to Harkless that Brainard Macauley was the + editor of the “Rouen Morning Journal”—“a very distinguished young + man, not over twenty-eight, and perfectly wonderful.” Already a power to + be accounted with in national politics, he was “really a tremendous + success,” and sure to go far; “one of those delicate-looking men, who are + yet so strong you know they won't let the lightning hurt you.” It really + looked as if Helen Sherwood (whom Harkless really ought to meet) had + actually been caught in the toils at tet, those toils wherein so many + luckless youths had lain enmeshed for her sake. He must meet Mr. Macauley, + too, the most interesting man in Rouen. After her little portrait of him, + didn't Mr. Harkless agree that it looked really pretty dull for Miss + Sherwood's other lovers? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harkless smiled, and agreed that it did indeed. She felt a thrill of + compassion for him, and her subsequent description of the pathos of his + smile was luminous. She said it was natural that a man who had been + through so much suffering from those horrible “White-Cappers” should have + a smile that struck into your heart like a knife. + </p> + <p> + Despite all that Meredith could do, and after his notorious effort to + shift the subject he could do very little, the light prattle ran on about + Helen Sherwood and Brainard Macauley. Tom abused himself for his wild + notion of cheering his visitor with these people who had no talk, and who, + if they drifted out of commonplace froth, had no medium to float them + unless they sailed the currents, of local personality, and he mentally + upbraided them for a set of gossiping ninnies. They conducted a + conversation (if it could be dignified by a name) of which no stranger + could possibly partake, and which, by a hideous coincidence, was making + his friend writhe, figuratively speaking, for Harkless sat like a fixed + shadow. He uttered scarcely a word the whole evening, though Meredith knew + that his guests would talk about him enthusiastically, the next day, none + the less. The journalist's silence was enforced by the topics; but what + expression and manner the light allowed them to see was friendly and + receptive, as though he listened to brilliant suggestions. He had a nice + courtesy, and Miss Hinsdale felt continually that she was cleverer than + usual this evening, and no one took his silence to be churlish, though + they all innocently wondered why he did not talk more; however, it was + probable that a man who had been so interestingly and terribly shot would + be rather silent for a time afterward. + </p> + <p> + That night, when Harkless had gone to bed Meredith sat late by his own + window calling himself names. He became aware of a rhomboidal patch of + yellow light on a wall of foliage without, and saw that it came from his + friend's window. After dubious consideration, he knocked softly on the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Come.” + </p> + <p> + He went in. Harkless was in bed, and laughed faintly as Meredith entered. + “I—I'm fearing you'll have to let me settle your gas bill, Tom. I'm + not like I used to be, quite. I find—since—since that + business, I can't sleep without a light. I rather get the—the + horrors in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + Incoherently, Meredith made a compassionate exclamation and turned to go, + and, as he left the room, his eye fell upon the mantel-piece. The position + of the photographs had been altered, and the picture of the girl who + looked straight out at you was gone. The mere rim of it was visible behind + the image of an old gentleman with a sardonic mouth. + </p> + <p> + An hour later, Tom came back, and spoke through the closed door. “Boy, + don't you think you can get to sleep now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Tom. It's all right. You get to bed. Nothing troubles me.” + </p> + <p> + Meredith spent the next day in great tribulation and perplexity; he felt + that something had to be done, but what to do he did not know. He still + believed that a “stirring-up” was what Harkless needed—not the + species of “stirring-up” that had taken place last night, but a diversion + which would divert. As they sat at dinner, a suggestion came to him and he + determined to follow it. He was called to the telephone, and a voice + strange to his ear murmured in a tone of polite deference: “A lady wishes + to know if Mr. Meredith and his visitor intend being present at the + country-club this evening.” + </p> + <p> + He had received the same inquiry from Miss Hinsdale on her departure the + previous evening, and had answered vaguely; hence he now rejoined: + </p> + <p> + “You are quite an expert ventriloquist, but you do not deceive me.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” creaked the small articulation. + </p> + <p> + “This is Miss Hinsdale, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. The lady wishes to know if you will kindly answer her question.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her, yes.” He hung up the receiver, and returned to the table. “Some + of Clara Hinsdale's play,” he explained. “You made a devastating + impression on her, boy; you were wise enough not to talk any, and she + foolishly thought you were as interesting as you looked. We're going out + to a country-club dance. It's given for the devotees who stay here all + summer and swear Rouen is always cool; and nobody dances but me and the + very young ones. It won't be so bad; you can smoke anywhere, and there are + little tables. We'll go.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Tom, you're so good to think of it, but——” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind going alone? I find it very pleasant sitting on your + veranda, or I'll get a book.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, if you don't want to go, I don't. I haven't had a dance for + three months and I'm still addicted to it. But of course——” + </p> + <p> + “I think I'd like to go.” Harkless acquiesced at once, with a cheerful + voice and a lifeless eye, and the good Tom felt unaccountably mean in + persisting. + </p> + <p> + They drove out into the country through mists like lakes, and found + themselves part of a procession of twinkling carriage-lights, and cigar + sparks shining above open vehicles, winding along the levels like a canoe + fete on the water. In the entrance hall of the club-house they encountered + Miss Hinsdale, very handsome, large, and dark, elaborately beaming and + bending toward them warmly. + </p> + <p> + “Who do you think is here?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Gomez?” ventured Meredith. + </p> + <p> + “Helen Sherwood!” she cried. “Go and present Mr. Harkless before Brainard + Macauley takes her away to some corner.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. PRETTY MARQUISE + </h2> + <p> + The two friends walked through a sort of opera-bouffe to find her; music + playing, a swaying crowd, bright lights, bright eyes, pretty women, a + glimpse of dancers footing it over a polished floor in a room beyond—a + hundred colors flashing and changing, as the groups shifted, before the + eye could take in the composition of the picture. A sudden thrill of + exhilaration rioted in John's pulses, and he trembled like a child before + the gay disclosure of a Christmas tree. Meredith swore to himself that he + would not have known him for the man of five minutes agone. Two small, + bright red spots glowed in his cheeks; he held himself erect with head + thrown back and shoulders squared, and the idolizing Tom thought he looked + as a king ought to look at the acme of power and dominion. Miss Hinsdale's + word in the hallway was the geniuses touch: a bent, gray man of years—a + word—and behold the Great John Harkless, the youth of elder days + ripened to his prime of wisdom and strength! People made way for them and + whispered as they passed. It had been years since John Harkless had been + in the midst of a crowd of butterfly people; everything seemed unreal, or + like a ball in a play; presently the curtain would fall and close the + lights and laughter from his view, leaving only the echo of music. It was + like a kaleidoscope for color: the bouquets of crimson or white or pink or + purple; the profusion of pretty dresses, the brilliant, tender fabrics, + and the handsome, foreshortened faces thrown back over white shoulders in + laughter; glossy raven hair and fair tresses moving in quick salutations; + and the whole gay shimmer of festal tints and rich artificialities set off + against the brave green of out-doors, for the walls were solidly adorned + with forest branches, with, here and there amongst them, a blood-red droop + of beech leaves, stabbed in autumn's first skirmish with summer. The night + was cool, and the air full of flower smells, while harp, violin, and + 'cello sent a waltz-throb through it all. + </p> + <p> + They looked rapidly through several rooms and failed to find her indoors, + and they went outside, not exchanging a word, and though Harkless was a + little lame, Tom barely kept up with his long stride. On the verandas + there were fairy lamps and colored incandescents over little tables, where + people sat chatting. She was not there. Beyond was a terrace, where a + myriad of Oriental lanterns outlined themselves clearly in fantastically + shaped planes of scarlet and orange and green against the blue darkness. + Many couples and groups were scattered over the terrace, and the young men + paused on the steps, looking swiftly from group to group. She was not + there. + </p> + <p> + “We haven't looked in the dancing-room,” said Tom, looking at his + companion rather sorrowfully. John turned quickly and they reentered the + house. + </p> + <p> + He had parted from her in the blackness of storm with only the flicker of + lightning to show her to him, but it was in a blaze of lights that he saw + her again. The dance was just ended, and she stood in a wide doorway, half + surrounded by pretty girls and young men, who were greeting her. He had + one full look at her. She was leaning to them all, her arms full of + flowers, and she seemed the radiant centre of all the light and gaiety of + the place. Even Meredith stopped short and exclaimed upon her; for one + never got used to her; and he remembered that whenever he saw her after + absence the sense of her beauty rushed over him anew. And he believed the + feeling on this occasion was keener than ever before, for she was prettier + than he had ever seen her. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder!” he cried; but Harkless did not understand. As they pressed + forward, Meredith perceived that they were only two more radii of a circle + of youths, sprung from every direction as the waltz ended, bearing down + upon the common focus to secure the next dance. Harkless saw nothing but + that she stood there before him. He feared a little that every one might + notice how he was trembling, and he was glad of the many voices that kept + them from hearing his heart knock against his ribs. She saw him coming + toward her, and nodded to him pleasantly, in just the fashion in which she + was bowing to half a dozen others, and at that a pang of hot pain went + through him like an arrow—an arrow poisoned with cordial, casual + friendliness. + </p> + <p> + She extended her hand to him and gave him a smile that chilled him—it, + was so conventionally courteous and poised so nicely in the manner of + society. He went hot and cold fast enough then, for not less pleasantly in + that manner did she exclaim: “I am very glad to see you, Mr. Harkless, so + extremely glad! And so delighted to find you looking strong again! Do tell + me about all our friends in Plattville. I should like to have a little + chat with you some time. So good of you to find me in this melee.” + </p> + <p> + And with that she turned from the poor fellow to Meredith. “How do you do. + Cousin Tom? I've saved the next dance for you.” Then she distributed words + here and there and everywhere, amongst the circle about her—pretty + Marquise with a vengeance! “No, Mr. Swift, I shall not make a card; you + must come at the beginning of a dance if you want one. I cannot promise + the next; it is quite impossible. No, I did not go as far north as + Mackinac. How do you do, Mr. Burlingame?—Yes, quite an age;—no, + not the next, I am afraid; nor the next;—I'm not keeping a card. + Good evening, Mr. Baird. No, not the next. Oh, <i>thank</i> you, Miss + Hinsdale!—No, Mr. Swift, it is quite impossible—I'm so sorry. + Cousin, the music is commencing; this is ours.” + </p> + <p> + As she took Meredith's arm, she handed her flowers to a gentleman beside + her with the slightest glance at the recipient; and the gesture and look + made her partner heartsick for his friend; it was so easy and natural and + with the air of habit, and had so much of the manner with which a woman + hands things to a man who partakes of her inner confidences. Tom knew that + Harkless divined the gesture, as well as the identity of the gentleman. + They started away, but she paused, and turned to the latter. “Mr. + Macauley, you must meet Mr. Harkless. We leave him in your care, and you + must see that he meets all the pretty girls—you are used to being + nice to distinguished strangers, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Tom put his arm about her, and whirled her away, and Harkless felt as if a + soft hand had dealt him blow after blow in the face. Was this lady of + little baffling forms and small cold graces the girl who had been his kind + comrade, the girl who stood with him by the blue tent-pole, she who had + run to him to save his life, she who walked at his side along the pike? + The contrast of these homely scenes made him laugh grimly. Was this she + who had wept before him—was it she who had been redolent of kindness + so fragrantly natural and true—was it she who said she “loved all + these people very much, in spite of having known them only two days”? + </p> + <p> + He cried out upon himself for a fool. What was he in her eyes but a man + who had needed to be told that she did not love him! Had he not better—and + more courteously to her—have avoided the meeting which was + necessarily an embarrassment to her? But no; he must rush like a Mohawk + till he found her and forced her to rebuff him, to veil her kindness in + little manners, to remind him that he put himself in the character of a + rejected importunate. She had punished him enough, perhaps a little too + cruelly enough, in leaving him with the man to whom she handed bouquets as + a matter of course. And this man was one whose success had long been a + trumpet at his ear, blaring loudly of his own failure in the same career. + </p> + <p> + It had been several years since he first heard of the young editor of the + Rouen “Journal,” and nowadays almost everybody knew about Brainard + Macauley. Outwardly, he was of no unusual type: an American of affairs; + slight, easy, yet alert; relaxed, yet sharp; neat, regular, strong; a + quizzical eye, a business chin, an ambitious head with soft, straight hair + outlining a square brow; and though he was “of a type,” he was not + commonplace, and one knew at once that he would make a rattling fight to + arrive where he was going. + </p> + <p> + It appeared that he had heard of Harkless, as well as the Carlow editor of + him. They had a few moments of shop, and he talked to Harkless as a + brother craftsman, without the offense of graciousness, and spoke of his + pleasure in the meeting and of his relief at Harkless's recovery, for, + aside from the mere human feeling, the party needed him in Carlow—even + if he did not always prove himself “quite a vehement partisan.” Macauley + laughed. “But I'm not doing my duty,” he said presently; “I was to present + you to the pretty ones only, I believe. Will you designate your preferred + fashion of beauty? We serve all styles.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” the other answered, hurriedly. “I met a number last night—quite + a number, indeed.” He had seen them only in dim lights, however, and + except Miss Hinsdale and the widower, had not the faintest recognition of + any of them, and he cut them all, except those two, one after the other, + before the evening was over; and this was a strange thing for a politician + to do; but he did it with such an innocent eye that they remembered the + dark porch and forgave him. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we watch the dancing, then?” asked Macauley. Harkless was already + watching part of it. + </p> + <p> + “If you will. I have not seen this sort for more than five years.” + </p> + <p> + “It is always a treat, I think, and a constant proof that the older school + of English caricaturists didn't overdraw.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; one realizes they couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + Harkless remembered Tom Meredith's fine accomplishment of dancing; he had + been the most famous dancer of college days, and it was in the dancer that + John best saw his old friend again as he had known him, the light lad of + the active toe. Other couples flickered about the one John watched, + couples that plodded, couples that bobbed, couples that galloped, couples + that slid, but the cousins alone passed across the glistening reflections + as lightly as October leaves blown over the forest floor. In the midst of + people who danced with fixed, glassy eyes, or who frowned with + determination to do their duty or to die, and seemed to expect the latter, + or who were pale with the apprehension of collision, or who made visible + their anxiety to breathe through the nose and look pleased at the same + time, these two floated and smiled easily upon life. Three or four steep + steps made the portly and cigarette-smoking Meredith pant like an old man, + but a dance was a cooling draught to him. As for the little Marquise—when + she danced, she danced away with all those luckless hearts that were not + hers already. The orchestra launched the jubilant measures of the + deux-temps with a torrent of vivacity, and the girl's rhythmic flight + answered like a sail taking the breeze. + </p> + <p> + There was one heart she had long since won which answered her every + movement. Flushed, rapturous, eyes sparkling, cheeks aglow, the small head + weaving through the throng like a golden shuttle—ah, did she know + how adorable she was! Was Tom right: is it the attainable unattainable to + one man and given to some other that leaves a deeper mark upon him than + success? At all events the unattainable was now like a hot sting in the + heart, but yet a sting more precious than a balm. The voice of Brainard + Macauley broke in: + </p> + <p> + “A white brow and a long lash, a flushing cheek and a soft eye, a voice + that laughs and breaks and ripples in the middle of a word, a girl you + could put in your hat, Mr. Harkless—and there you have a strong man + prone! But I congratulate you on the manner your subordinates operate the + 'Herald' during your absence. I understand you are making it a daily.” + </p> + <p> + Macauley was staring at him quizzically, and Harkless, puzzled, but + without resentment of the other's whimsey, could only decide that the + editor of the Rouen “Journal” was an exceedingly odd young man. All at + once he found Meredith and the girl herself beside him; they had stopped + before the dance was finished. He had the impulse to guard himself from + new blows as a boy throws up his elbow to ward a buffet, and, although he + could not ward with his elbow, for his heart was on his sleeve—where + he began to believe that Macauley had seen it—he remembered that he + could smile with as much intentional mechanism as any wornout rounder of + afternoons. He stepped aside for her, and she saw what she had known but + had not seen before, for the thickness of the crowd, and this was that he + limped and leaned upon his stick. + </p> + <p> + “Do let me thank you,” he said, with a louder echo of her manner of + greeting him, a little earlier. “It has been such a pleasure to watch you + dance. It is really charming to meet you here. If I return to Plattville I + shall surely remember to tell Miss Briscoe.” + </p> + <p> + At this she surprised him with a sudden, clear look in the eyes, so + reproachful, so deep, so sad, that he started. She took her flowers from + Macauley, who had the air of understanding the significance of such + ceremonies very well, and saying, “Shan't we all go out on the terrace?” + placed her arm in Harkless's, and conducted him (and not the others) to + the most secluded corner of the terrace, a nook illumined by one Japanese + lantern; to which spot it was his belief that he led her. She sank into a + chair, with the look of the girl who had stood by the blue tent-pole. He + could only stare at her, amazed by her abrupt change to this dazzling, if + reproachful, kindness, confused by his good fortune. + </p> + <p> + “'<i>If</i> you go back to Plattville!'” she said in a low voice. “What do + you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I've been dull lately, and I thought I might go somewhere + else.” Caught in a witchery no lack of possession could dispel, and which + the prospect of loss made only stronger while it lasted, he took little + thought of what he said; little thought of anything but of the gladness it + was to be with her again. + </p> + <p> + “'Somewhere else?' Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you no sense of responsibility? What is to become of your paper?” + </p> + <p> + “The 'Herald'? Oh, it will potter along, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has become of it in your absence, already? Has it not + deteriorated very much?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said; “it's better than it ever was before.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” she cried, with a little gasp. + </p> + <p> + “You're so astounded at my modesty?” + </p> + <p> + “But please tell me what you mean,” she said quickly. “What happened to + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't the 'Herald' rather a dull subject? I'll tell you how well Judge + Briscoe looked when he came to see me; or, rather, tell me of your summer + in the north.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered earnestly. “Don't you remember my telling you that I am + interested in newspaper work?” + </p> + <p> + “I have even heard so from others,” he said, with an instant of dryness. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell me about the 'Herald'?” + </p> + <p> + “It is very simple. Your friend, Mr. Fisbee, found a substitute, a + relative six feet high with his coat off, a traction engine for energy and + a limited mail for speed. He writes me letters on a type writer suffering + from an impediment in its speech; and in brief, he is an enterprising + idiot with a mania for work-baskets.” + </p> + <p> + Her face was in the shadow. + </p> + <p> + “You say the—idiot—is enterprising?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Far more enterprising and far less idiot than I. They are looking for oil + down there, and when he came he knew less about oil than a kindergarten + babe, and spoke of 'boring for kerosene' in his first letter to me; but he + knows it all now, and writes long and convincing geological arguments. If + a well comes in, he is prepared to get out an extra! Perhaps you may + understand what that means in Plattville, with the 'Herald's' numerous + forces. I owe him everything, even the shares in the oil company, which he + has persuaded me to take. And he is going to dare to make the 'Herald' a + daily. Do you remember asking me why I had never done that? It seemed + rather a venture to try to compete with the Rouen papers in offering State + and foreign news, but this young Gulliver has tacked onto the Associated + Press, and means to print a quarto—that's eight pages, you know—once + a week, Saturday, and a double sheet, four pages, on other mornings. The + daily venture begins next Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it succeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You think not?” Her interest in this dull business struck him as + astonishing, and yet in character with her as he had known her in + Plattville. Then he wondered unhappily if she thought that talking of the + “Herald” and learning things about the working of a country newspaper + would help her to understand Brainard Macauley. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you let him go on with it?” she asked. “I suppose you have + encouraged him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I encouraged him. The creature's recklessness fascinated me. A + dare-devil like that is always charming.'” + </p> + <p> + “You think there is no chance for the creature's succeeding with the + daily?” + </p> + <p> + “None,” he replied indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “You mentioned work-baskets, I think?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again. “I believe him to be the original wooden-nutmeg man. + Once a week he produces a 'Woman's Page,' wherein he presents to the + Carlow female public three methods for making currant jelly, three + receipts for the concoction of salads, and directs the ladies how to + manufacture a pretty work-basket out of odd scraps in twenty minutes. The + astonishing part of it is that he has not yet been mobbed by the women who + have followed his directions.” + </p> + <p> + “So you think the daily is a mistake and that your enterprising idiot + should be mobbed? Why?” She seemed to be taking him very seriously. + </p> + <p> + “I think he may be—for his 'Woman's Page.'” + </p> + <p> + “It is all wrong, you think?” + </p> + <p> + “What could a Yankee six-footer cousin of old Fisbee's know about currant + jelly and work-baskets?” + </p> + <p> + “You know about currant jelly and work-baskets yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven defend the right, I do not!” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure he is six feet?” + </p> + <p> + “You should see his signature; that leaves no doubt. And, also, his + ability denotes his stature.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe that ability is in proportion to height, do you not?” There + was a dangerous luring in her tone. + </p> + <p> + His memory recalled to him that he was treading on undermined ground, so + he hastened to say: “In inverse proportion.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your substitute is a failure. I see,” she said, slowly. + </p> + <p> + What muffled illumination there was in their nook fell upon his face; her + back was toward it, so that she was only an outline to him, and he would + have been startled and touched to the quick, could he have known that her + lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears as she spoke the last words. + He was happy as he had not been since his short June day; it was enough to + be with her again. Nothing, not even Brainard Macauley, could dull his + delight. And, besides, for a few minutes he had forgotten Brainard + Macauley. What more could man ask than to sit in the gloom with her, to + know that he was near her again for a little while, and to talk about + anything—if he talked at all? Nonsense and idle exaggeration about + young Fisbee would do as well as another thing. + </p> + <p> + “The young gentleman is an exception,” he returned. “I told you I owed + everything to him; my gratitude will not allow me to admit that his + ability is less than his stature. He suggested my purchase of a quantity + of Mr. Watts's oil stock when it was knocked flat on its back by two wells + turning out dry; but if Mr. Watts's third well comes in, and young Fisbee + has convinced me that it will, and if my Midas's extra booms the stock and + the boom develops, I shall oppose the income tax. Poor old Plattville will + be full of strangers and speculators, and the 'Herald' will advocate vast + improvements to impress the investor's eye. Stagnation and picturesqueness + will flee together; it is the history of the Indiana town. Already the + 'Herald' is clamoring with Schofields' Henry—you remember the + bell-ringer?—for Main Street to be asphalted. It will all come. The + only trouble with young Fisbee is that he has too much ability.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet the daily will not succeed?” + </p> + <p> + “No. That's too big a jump, unless my young man's expressions on the + tariff command a wide sale amongst curio-hunters.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is quite a fool about political matters?” + </p> + <p> + “Far from it; he is highly ingenious. His editorials are often the + subtlest cups of flattery I ever sipped, many of them showing assiduous + study of old files to master the method and notions of his eagle-eyed + predecessor. But the tariff seems to have got him. He is a very masculine + person, except for this one feminine quality, for, if I may say it without + ungallantry, there is a legend that no woman has ever understood the + tariff. Young Fisbee must be an extremely travelled person, because the + custom-house people have made an impression upon him which no few + encounters with them could explain, and he conceives the tariff to be a + law which discommodes a lady who has been purchasing gloves in Paris. He + thinks smuggling the great evil of the present tariff system; it is such a + temptation, so insidious a break-down of moral fibre. His views must edify + Carlow.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a quick, stifled cry. “Oh! there isn't a word of truth in what + you say! Not a word! I did not think you could be so cruel!” + </p> + <p> + He bent forward, peering at her in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Cruel!” + </p> + <p> + “You know it is a hateful distortion—an exaggeration!” she exclaimed + passionately. “No man living could have so little sense as you say he has. + The tariff is perfectly plain to any child. When you were in Plattville + you weren't like this—I didn't know you were unkind!” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't understand, please——” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hinsdale has been talking—raving—to me about you! You + may not know it—though I suppose you do—but you made a + conquest last night. It seems a little hard on the poor young man who is + at work for you in Plattville, doing his best for you, plodding on through + the hot days, and doing all he knows how, while you sit listening to music + in the evenings with Clara Hinsdale, and make a mock of his work and his + trying to please you——” + </p> + <p> + “But I didn't mention him to Miss Hinsdale. In fact, I didn't mention <i>anything</i> + to Miss Hinsdale. What have I done? The young man is making his living by + his work—and my living, too, for that matter. It only seems to me + that his tariff editorials are rather humorous.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed suddenly—ringingly. “Of course they are! How should I + know? Immensely humorous! And the good creature knows nothing beyond + smuggling and the custom-house and chalk marks? Why, even <i>I</i>—ha, + ha, ha!—even <i>I</i>—should have known better than that. What + a little fool your enterprising idiot must be!—with his work-baskets + and currant jelly and his trying to make the 'Herald' a daily!—It + will be a ludicrous failure, of course. No doubt he thought he was being + quite wise, and was pleased over his tariff editorials—his funny, + funny editorials—his best—to please you! Ha, ha, ha! How + immensely funny!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I have not the honor of the gentleman's acquaintance. Ah,” she rejoined + bitterly, “I see what you mean; it is the old accusation, is it? I am a + woman, and I 'sound the personal note.' I could not resent a cruelty for + the sake of a man I do not know. But let it go. My resentment is personal, + after all, since it is against a man I do know—<i>you</i>!” + </p> + <p> + He leaned toward her because he could not help it. “I'd rather have + resentment from you than nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will give you nothing,” she answered quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You flout me!” he cried. “That is better than resentment.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate you most, I think,” she said with a tremulousness he did not + perceive, “when you say you do not care to go back to Plattville.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I say it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is in every word, and it is true; you don't care to go back there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is true; I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to leave the place where you do good; to leave those people who + love you, who were ready to die to avenge your hurt!” she exclaimed + vehemently. “Oh, I say that is shameful!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” he returned gravely. “I am ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that!” she cried. “Don't say you are ashamed of it. Do you + suppose I do not understand the dreariness it has been for you? Don't you + know that I see it is a horror to you, that it brings back your struggle + with those beasts in the dark, and revivifies all your suffering, merely + to think of it?” Her turns and sudden contradictions left him tangled in a + maze; he could not follow, but must sit helpless to keep pace with her, + while the sheer happiness of being with her tingled through his veins. She + rose and took a step aside, then spoke again: “Well, since you want to + leave Carlow, you shall; since you do not wish to return, you need not.—Are + you laughing at me?” She leaned toward him, and looked at him steadily, + with her face close to his. He was not laughing; his eyes shone with a + deep fire; in that nearness he hardly comprehended what she said. “Thank + you for not laughing,” she whispered, and leaned back from him. “I suppose + you think my promises are quite wild, and they are. I do not know what I + was talking about, or what I meant, any better than you do. You may + understand some day. It is all—I mean that it hurts one to hear you + say you do not care for Carlow.” She turned away. “Come.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “It is my turn to conclude the interview. You remember, the last time it + was you who—” She broke off, shuddering, and covered her face with + her hands. “Ah, that!” she exclaimed. “I did not think—I did not + mean to speak of that miserable, miserable night. And <i>I</i> to be harsh + with you for not caring to go back to Carlow!” + </p> + <p> + “Your harshness,” he laughed. “A waft of eider.” + </p> + <p> + “We must go,” she said. He did not move, but sat staring at her like a + thirsty man drinking. With an impulsive and pretty gesture she reached out + her hand to him. Her little, white glove trembled in the night before his + eyes, and his heart leaped to meet its sudden sweet generosity; his thin + fingers closed over it as he rose, and then that hand he had likened to a + white butterfly lay warm and light and quiet in his own. And as they had + so often stood together in their short day and their two nights of the + moon, so now again they stood with a serenading silence between them. A + plaintive waltz-refrain from the house ran through the blue woof of + starlit air as a sad-colored thread through the tapestry of night; they + heard the mellow croon of the 'cello and the silver plaints of violins, + the chiming harp, and the triangle bells, all woven into a minor strain of + dance-music that beat gently upon their ears with such suggestion of the + past, that, as by some witchcraft of hearing, they listened to music made + for lovers dancing, and lovers listening, a hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + “I care for only one thing in this world,” he said, tremulously. “Have I + lost it? I didn't mean to ask you, that last night, although you answered. + Have I no chance? Is it still the same? Do I come too late?” + </p> + <p> + The butterfly fluttered in his hand and then away. + </p> + <p> + She drew back and looked at him a moment. + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing you must always understand,” she said gently, “and + that is that a woman can be grateful. I give you all the gratitude there + is in me, and I think I have a great deal; it is all yours. Will you + always remember that?” + </p> + <p> + “Gratitude? What can there—” + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand now, but some day you will. I ask you to remember + that my every act and thought which bore reference to you—and there + have been many—came from the purest gratitude. Although you do not + see it now, will you promise to believe it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said simply. + </p> + <p> + “For the rest—” She paused. “For the rest—I do not love you.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head and did not lift it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you understand?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he answered, quietly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him long, and then, suddenly, her hand to her heart, gave a + little, pitying, tender cry and moved toward him. At this he raised his + head and smiled sadly. “No; don't you mind,” he said. “It's all right. I + was such a cad the other time I needed to be told; I was so entirely silly + about it, I couldn't face the others to tell them good-night, and I left + you out there to go in to them alone. I didn't realize, for my manners + were all gone. I'd lived in a kind of stupor, I think, for a long time; + then being with you was like a dream, and the sudden waking was too much + for me. I've been ashamed often, since, in thinking of it—and I was + well punished for not taking you in. I thought only of myself, and I + behaved like a whining, unbalanced boy. But I had whined from the moment I + met you, because I was sickly with egoism and loneliness and self-pity. + I'm keeping you from the dancing. Won't you let me take you back to the + house?” + </p> + <p> + A commanding and querulous contralto voice was heard behind them, and a + dim, majestic figure appeared under the Japanese lantern. + </p> + <p> + “Helen?” + </p> + <p> + The girl turned quickly. “Yes, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask you to return to the club-house for supper with me? Your father + has been very much worried about you. We have all been looking for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, this is Mr. Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you do?” The lady murmured this much so far under her breath that + the words might have been mistaken for anything else—most plausibly, + perhaps, for, “Who cares if it is?”—nor further did she acknowledge + John's profound inclination. Frigidity and complaint of ill-usage made a + glamour in every fold of her expensive garments; she was large and + troubled and severe. A second figure emerged from behind her and bowed + with the suave dignity that belonged to Brainard Macauley. “Mr. Macauley + has asked to sit at our table,” Mrs. Sherwood said to Helen. “May I beg + you to come at once? Your father is holding places for us.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” she answered. “I will follow you with Mr. Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + “I think Mr. Harkless will excuse you,” said the elder lady. “He has an + engagement. Mr. Meredith has been looking everywhere for him to take Miss + Hinsdale out to supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Miss Sherwood,” said John in a cheerful voice. “I thank you + for sitting out the dance with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” she said, and gave him her hand. “I'm so sorry I shan't see + you again; I am only in Rouen for this evening, or I should ask you to + come to see me. I am leaving to-morrow morning. Good-night.—Yes, + mamma.” + </p> + <p> + The three figures went toward the bright lights of the club-house. She was + leaning on Macauley's arm and chatting gaily, smiling up at him brightly. + John watched her till she was lost in the throng on the veranda. There, in + the lights, where waiters were arranging little tables, every one was + talking and moving about, noisily, good-humored and happy. There was a + flourish of violins, and then the orchestra swung into a rampant march + that pranced like uncurbed cavalry; it stirred the blood of old men with + militant bugle calls and blast of horns; it might have heralded the + chariot of a flamboyant war god rioting out of sunrise, plumed with youth. + Some quite young men on the veranda made as if they were restive horses + champing at the bit and heading a procession, and, from a group near by, + loud laughter pealed. + </p> + <p> + John Harkless lifted to his face the hand that had held hers; there was + the faint perfume of her glove. He kissed his own hand. Then he put that + hand and the other to his forehead, and sank into her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Let me get back,” he said. “Let me get back to Plattville, where I + belong.” + </p> + <p> + Tom Meredith came calling him. “Harkless? John Harkless?” + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along, boy. What on earth are you doing out here all alone? I + thought you were with—I thought some people were with you. You're + bored to death, I know; but come along and be bored some more, because I + promised to bring you in for supper. Then we'll go home. They've saved a + place for you by Miss Hinsdale.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, lad,” answered Harkless, and put his hand on the other's + shoulder. “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + The next day he could not leave his bed; his wounds were feverish and his + weakness had returned. Meredith was shaken with remorse because he had let + him wander around in the damp night air with no one to look after him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. HELEN'S TOAST + </h2> + <p> + Judge Briscoe was sitting out under the afternoon sky with his chair + tilted back and his feet propped against the steps. His coat was off, and + Minnie sat near at hand sewing a button on the garment for him, and she + wore that dreamy glaze that comes over women's eyes when they sew for + other people. + </p> + <p> + From the interior of the house rose and fell the murmur of a number of + voices engaged in a conversation, which, for a time, seemed to consist of + dejected monosyllables; but presently the judge and Minnie heard Helen's + voice, clear, soft, and trembling a little with excitement. She talked + only two or three minutes, but what she said stirred up a great commotion. + All the voices burst forth at once in ejaculations—almost shouts; + but presently they were again subdued and still, except for the single + soft one, which held forth more quietly, but with a deeper agitation, than + any of the others. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't try to bamboozle me,” said the judge in a covert tone to his + daughter, and with a glance at the parlor window, whence now issued the + rumble of Warren Smith's basso. “I tell you that girl would follow John + Harkless to Jericho.” + </p> + <p> + Minnie shook her head mysteriously, and bit a thread with a vague frown. + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not?” asked the judge crossly. + </p> + <p> + “Why wouldn't she have him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who knows he's asked her yet?” + </p> + <p> + Minnie screamed derisively at the density of man, “What made him run off + that way, the night he was hurt? Why didn't he come back in the house with + her?” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you suppose a woman understands?” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning that you know more about it than I do, I presume,” grunted the + old gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father,” she replied, smiling benignantly upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Did she tell you?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I guess the truth is that women don't know more than men so much + as they see more; they understand more without having to read about it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the way of it, is it?” he laughed. “Well, it don't make any + difference, she'll have him some time.” + </p> + <p> + “No, father; it's only gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Gratitude!” The judge snorted scornfully. “Girls don't do as much as + she's done for him out of gratitude. <i>Look</i> what she's doing; not + only running the 'Herald' for him, but making it a daily, and a good daily + at that. First time I saw her I knew right away she was the smartest girl + I ever laid eyes on;—I expect she must have got it from her mother. + Gratitude! Pooh! Look how she's studied his interests, and watched like a + cat for chances for him in everything. Didn't she get him into Eph Watts's + company? She talked to Watts and the other fellows, day after day, and + drove around their leased land with 'em, and studied it up, and got on the + inside, and made him buy. Now, if they strike it—and she's sure they + will, and <i>I</i>'m sure she knows when to have faith in a thing—why, + they'll sell out to the Standard, and they can all quit work for the rest + of their lives if they want to; and Harkless gets as much as any without + lifting a finger, all because he had a little money—mighty little, + too—laid up in bank and a girl that saw where to put it. She did + that for him, didn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see what fun it's been for her?” returned Minnie. “She's been + having the best time she ever had; I never knew any one half so happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; she went up and saw him at that party, and she knows he's still + thinking about her. I shouldn't be surprised if he asked her then, and + that's what makes her so gay.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she couldn't have said 'yes,' because he went back to his bed the + next day, and he's been there most of the time since.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw! He wasn't over his injuries, and he was weak and got malaria.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she couldn't be so happy while he's sick, if she cared very much + about him.” + </p> + <p> + “He's not very sick. She's happy because she's working for him, and she + knows his illness isn't serious. He'll be a well man when she says the + word. He's love-sick, that's what he is; I never saw a man so taken down + with it in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it isn't malaria?” Minnie said, with a smile of some superiority. + </p> + <p> + “You're just like your poor mother,” the old gentleman answered, growing + rather red. “She never could learn to argue. What I say is that Helen + cares about him, whether she says she does or not, whether she acts like + it or not—or whether she thinks she does or not,” he added + irascibly. “Do you know what she's doing for him to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when they were talking together at that party, he said something + that made her think he was anxious to get away from Plattville—you're + not to repeat this, child; she told me, relying on my discretion.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why she's got these men to come here to-day to meet her—Warren + Smith and Landis and Homer, and Boswell and young Keating of Amo, and Tom + Martin and those two fellows from Gaines County?” + </p> + <p> + “Something about politics, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “'Something about politics!'” he echoed. “I should say it is! Wait till + it's done, and this evening I'll tell you—if you can keep a secret.” + </p> + <p> + Minnie set her work-basket on the steps. “Oh, I guess I can keep a + secret,” she said. “But it won't make any difference.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you've said it, and you'll stick to it that it's gratitude till + their wedding day.” + </p> + <p> + “She knows he gave her father something to do, and helped him in other + ways, when no one else did.” + </p> + <p> + “I know all about that. She reproaches herself for having neglected Fisbee + while a stranger took care of him, and saved him from starving—and + worse. She's unreasonable about it; she didn't know he was in want till + long after. That's just like Fisbee, to tell her, afterwards. He didn't + tell her how low he got; but he hinted at it to her, and I guess she + understood; I gathered that much from him. Of course she's grateful, but + gratefulness don't account for everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes it does.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never expected to have the last word with a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you needn't,” said Minnie. + </p> + <p> + “I don't. I never do,” he retorted. She did not answer, but hummed a + little tune and looked up at the tree-tops. + </p> + <p> + Warren Smith appeared in the doorway. “Judge,” he said, “will you step + inside? We need you.” + </p> + <p> + Briscoe nodded and rose at once. As he reached the door, Minnie said in a + piercing whisper: + </p> + <p> + “It's hard to be sure about her, but I'm right; it's gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “There,” he replied, chuckling, “I thought I shouldn't have the last + word.” Minnie began to sing, and the judge, after standing in the doorway + till he was again summoned from within, slowly retired. + </p> + <p> + Briscoe had persisted in his own explanation of Helen's gaiety; + nevertheless he did not question his daughter's assumption that the young + lady was enjoying her career in Carlow. She was free as a bird to go and + come, and her duties and pleasures ran together in a happy excitement. Her + hands were full of work, but she sought and increased new tasks, and + performed them also. She came to Carlow as unused to the soil as was + Harkless on his arrival, and her educational equipment for the work was + far less than his; her experience, nothing. But both were native to the + State; and the genius of the American is adaptability, and both were + sprung from pioneers whose means of life depended on that quality. + </p> + <p> + There are, here and there, excrescent individuals who, through stock + decadence, or their inability to comprehend republican conditions, are not + assimilated by the body of the country; but many of these are imports, + while some are exports. Our foreign-born agitators now and then find + themselves removed by the police to institutions of routine, while the + romantic innocents who set up crests in the face of an unimpressionable + democracy are apt to be lured by their own curious ambitions, or those of + their women-folk, to spend a great part of their time in or about the + villas of Albion, thus paid for its perfidy; and, although the anarchists + and the bubble-hunters make a noise, it is enormously out of proportion to + their number, which is relatively very small, and neither the imported nor + the exported article can be taken as characteristic of our country. For + the American is one who soon fits any place, or into any shaped hole in + America, where you can set him down. It may be that without going so far + as to suggest the halls of the great and good and rich, one might mention + a number of houses of entertainment for man and beast in this country, in + which Mr. Martin of the Plattville Dry Goods Emporium would find himself + little at ease. But even in the extreme case, if Mr. Martin were given his + choice of being burned to death, or drowned, or of spending a month at the + most stupendously embellished tavern located in our possessions, and + supposing him to have chosen the third alternate, it is probable that he + would have grown almost accustomed to his surroundings before he died; and + if he survived the month, we may even fancy him really enjoying moments of + conversation with the night-clerks. + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Parker observed, Miss Sherwood did not do the Grand Duchess, giving + the Carlow tenants a treat. She felt no duchess symptoms within herself, + and though, of course, she had various manners tucked away to wear as one + suits garments to occasions—and it was a Rouen “party-gown” + wherewith she chose to abash poor John Harkless at their meeting—here + in Carlow, she was a woman of affairs, lively, shrewd, engaging, capable; + she was herself (at least she was that side of herself). And it should be + explained that Harkless had based his calumny regarding the tariff on a + paragraph or two that crept inadvertently into an otherwise statesmanlike + article, and that “H. Fisbee” understood the tariff as well as any woman + who ever lived. But the tariff inspired no more articles from that pen. + </p> + <p> + Rodney McCune had lifted his head, and those who had followed his stricken + enemy felt that the cause was lost, without the leader. The old ring that + the “Herald” had crushed was a ring once more, and the heelers had rallied—“the + boys were in line again.” The work had been done quietly, and Halloway was + already beaten, and beaten badly. John Harkless lay sick, and Rodney + McCune would sit in Congress, for the nomination meant election. But one + day the Harkless forces, demoralized, broken, almost hopeless, woke up to + find that they had a leader. Many of them were content with the belief + that this was a young lawyer named Keating, who had risen up in Amo; but + Mr. Keating himself had a different impression. + </p> + <p> + Helen was a little nervous, and very much excited, over the political + conference at Judge Briscoe's. She planned it with careful diplomacy, and + arranged the details with a fine sense of the dramatic. There was a + suggestion she desired to have made in this meeting, which she wished + should emanate from the Amo and Gaines County people, instead of + proceeding from Carlow—for she thought it better to make the + outsiders believe her idea an inspiration of their own—so she made a + little comedy and provided for Briscoe's entrance at an effective moment. + The judge was a substantial influence, strong in the councils of his party + when he chose to be; and though of late years he had contented himself + with voting at the polls, every one knew what weight he carried when he + saw fit to bestir himself. + </p> + <p> + When he entered the parlor, he found the politicians in a state of subdued + excitement. Helen sat by the window, blushing, and talking eagerly to old + Fisbee. One of the gentlemen from Gaines County was walking about the room + exclaiming, “A glorious conception! A glorious conception!” addressing the + bric-a-brac, apparently. (He thought the conception his own.) Mr. Martin + was tugging at his beard and whispering to Landis and Homer, and the two + Amo men were consulting in a corner, but as the judge came in, one of them + turned and said loudly, “That's the man.” + </p> + <p> + “What man am I, Keating?” asked Briscoe, cheerily. + </p> + <p> + “We better explain, I guess,” answered the other; and turning to his + compatriot: “You tell him, Boswell.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—it's this way—” said Boswell, and came at once to an + awkward pause, turning aside sheepishly and unable to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “So that's the way of it, is it?” said the old gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Helen laughed cheerfully, and looked about her with a courageous and + encouraging eye. “It is embarrassing,” she said. “Judge Briscoe, we are + contemplating 'a piece of the blackest treachery and chicanery.' We are + going to give Mr. Halloway the—the go-by!” The embarrassment fell + away, and everybody began to talk at once. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on a minute,” said the judge; “let's get at it straight. What do you + want with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you,” volunteered Keating. “You see, the boys are getting in + line again for this convention. They are the old file that used to rule + the roost before the 'Herald' got too strong for them, and they rely on + Mr. Harkless's being sick to beat Kedge Halloway with that Gaines County + man, McCune. Now, none of us here want Rod McCune I guess. We had trouble + enough once with him and his heelers, and now that Mr. Harkless is down, + they've taken advantage of it to raise a revolution: Rod McCune for + Congress! He's a dirty-hearted swindler—I hope Miss Sherwood will + pardon the strong expression—and everybody thought the 'Herald' had + driven him out of politics, though it never told how it did it; but he's + up on top again. Now, the question is to beat him. We hold the committees, + but the boys have been fighting the committees—call 'em the + 'Harkless Ring,' and never understood that the 'Herald' would have turned + us down in a second if it thought we weren't straight. Well, we saw a week + ago that Kedge Halloway was going to lose to McCune; we figured it out + pretty exactly, and there ain't a ray of hope for Kedge. We wrote to Mr. + Harkless about it, and asked him to come down—if he'd been on the + ground last Monday and had begun to work, I don't say but what his + personal influence might have saved Halloway—but a friend of his, + where he's staying, answered the letter: said Mr. Harkless was down with a + relapse and was very fretful; and he'd taken the liberty of reading the + letter and temporarily suppressing it under doctor's orders; they were + afraid he'd come, sick as he was, from a sense of duty, and asked us to + withdraw the letter, and referred us to Mr. Harkless's representative on + the 'Herald.' So we applied here to Miss Sherwood, and that's why we had + this meeting. Now, Halloway is honest—everybody knows that—and + I don't say but what he's been the best available material Mr. Harkless + had to send to Washington; but he ain't any too bright——” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Martin interrupted the speaker. “I reckon, maybe, you never heard that + lecture of his on the Past, Present, and Future'?” + </p> + <p> + “Besides that,” Keating continued, “Halloway has had it long enough, and + he's got enough glory out of it, and, except for getting beat by Rod + McCune, I believe he'd almost as soon give it up. Well, we discussed all + this and that, and couldn't come to any conclusion. We didn't want to keep + on with a losing fight if there was any way to put up a winner, though of + course we all recognized that Mr. Harkless would want us to support Kedge + to the death, and that's what he'd do if he was on the ground. But Miss + Sherwood mentioned that she'd had one note since his last illness began, + and he'd entrusted her and her associates on the paper with the entire + policy, and she would take the responsibility for anything we determined + on. Mr. Smith said the only thing to do was to give up Halloway and get a + man that could beat McCune; Kedge would recognize it himself, that that + was the only thing to do, and he could retire gracefully. Miss Sherwood + said she was still more or less a stranger, and asked what man we could + find who was strong enough to do it by popularity alone and who was also a + man we wanted; somebody that had worked a good deal, but had never had any + office. It was to such a man she could promise the 'Herald's' support, as + for a time the paper was being operated almost independently, it might be + said, of Mr. Harkless. Well, I expect it came to all of us at the same + time, but it was Mr. Bence here that said it first.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bence was the gentleman who had walked about saying “A glorious + conception,” and he now thrust one hand into his breast and extended the + other in a wide gesture, and looked as impressive as a very young man with + white eyebrows can look. + </p> + <p> + “The name of Harkless,” he said abruptly, “the name of Harkless will sweep + the convention like the fire of a Western prairie; the name of Harkless + will thunder over their astonished heads and strike a peal of joy bells in + every home in the district; it will re-echo in the corridors of posterity + and teem with prosperity like a mighty river. The name of Harkless will + reverberate in that convention hall, and they shall sit ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + “Harkless!” exclaimed the judge. “Why didn't some one think of that long + ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you approve?” asked Keating. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think I do!” + </p> + <p> + The Amo man shook hands with him. “We'll swim out,” he exclaimed. “It will + be the same everywhere. A lot of the old crowd themselves will be swept + along with us when we make our nomination. People feel that that + Cross-Roads business ought never to have been allowed to happen, and + they'd like to make it up to him some way. There are just two + difficulties, Halloway and Mr. Harkless himself. It's a sure thing that he + wouldn't come out against Kedge and that he'd refuse to let his name be + used against him. Therefore, we've got to keep it quiet from him; the + whole thing has to be worked quietly. The McCune folks were quiet until + they thought they were sure; we've got to be quieter still. Well, we've + made out a plan.” + </p> + <p> + “And a plan that will operate,” added Mr. Bence. “For the name of Harkless + shall—” Mr. Keating interrupted him energetically: + </p> + <p> + “We explain it to all the Halloway delegates, you see, and to all the + shaky McCune people, and interview all the undecided ones. The McCune + crowd may see them afterwards, but they can't fix men in this district + against John Harkless. All we've got to do is to pass the word. It's all + kept quiet, you understand. We go into the convention, and the names of + Halloway and McCune are placed before it. Then will come a speech naming + Harkless—and you want to stuff your ears with cotton! On the first + ballot Harkless gets the scattering vote that was going to nominate McCune + if we'd let things run, and Halloway is given every vote he'd have got if + he'd run against McCune alone; it's as a compliment; it will help him see + how things were, afterwards; and on the second ballot his vote goes to + Harkless. There won't be any hitch if we get down to work right off; it's + a mighty short campaign, but we've got big chances. Of course, it can't be + helped that Halloway has to be kept in the dark; he won't spend any money, + anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “It looks a little underhanded at first glance,” said Warren Smith; “but, + as Miss Sherwood said, you've got to be a little underhanded sometimes, + especially when you're dealing with as scrupulous a man as John Harkless. + But it's a perfectly honest deal, and it will be all right with him when + he finds it's all over and he's nominated.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a plain case,” added Boswell. “We want him, and we've got to have + him.” + </p> + <p> + “There's one danger,” Mr. Keating continued. “Kedge Halloway is honest, + but I believe he's selfish enough to disturb his best friend's deathbed + for his own ends, and it's not unlikely that he will get nervous towards + the last and be telegraphing Harkless to have himself carried on a cot to + the convention to save him. That wouldn't do at all, of course, and Miss + Sherwood thinks maybe there'd be less danger if we set the convention a + little ahead of the day appointed. It's dangerous, because it shortens our + time; but we can fix it for three days before the day we'd settled on, and + that will bring it to September 7th. What we want of you, judge, is to go + to the convention as a delegate, and make the nominating speech for Mr. + Harkless. Will you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Do it?” cried the old man, and he struck the table a resounding blow with + his big fist. “Do it? I'd walk from here to Rouen and back again to do + it!” + </p> + <p> + They were all on their feet at this, and they pressed forward to shake + Briscoe's hand, congratulating him and each other as though they were + already victorious. Mr. Martin bent over Helen and asked her if she minded + shaking hands with a man who had voted for Shem at the first election in + the Ark. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I'd rightly ort to thank you for finishin' off Kedge Halloway,” + he added. “I made up my mind I'd never vote for him again, the night he + killed that intellectual insect of his.” + </p> + <p> + “Intellectual insect, Mr. Martin?” she asked, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + He sighed. “The recollection never quits ha'ntin' me. I reckon I haven't + had a restful night since June. Maybe you don't remember his lecture.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I do,” she laughed; “and I remember the story of the fly, + vividly.” + </p> + <p> + “I never was jest what you might exactly call gushin' over Kedge,” Mr. + Martin drawled. “He doesn't strike me as havin' many ideas, precisely—he + had kind of a symptom of one once, that he caught from Harkless, but it + didn't take; it sloshed around in his mind and never really come out on + him. I always thought his brain was sort of syrupy. Harkless thought there + was fruit in it, and I reckon there is; but some way it never seems to + jell.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Helen gayly. “I want to hear him abused. It helps me to feel + less mean about the way we are treating him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I'm slickin' over my conscience, too. I feel awnrier about it + because he done me a good turn once, in the Hayes and Wheeler campaign. I + went to a meetin' to hear him speak, and he got sick and couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + Warren Smith addressed the company. “Well, is this all for the present?” + he asked. “Is everything settled?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” said Keating. “I'd like to hear from the 'Herald' about + its policy, if Miss Sherwood will tell us.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” she answered. “It will be very simple. Don't you think + there is only one course to pursue? We will advocate no one very + energetically, but we will print as much of the truth about Mr. McCune as + we can, with delicacy and honor, in this case, but, as I understand it, + the work is almost all to be done amongst the delegates. We shall not + mention our plan at all—but—but, when the convention is over, + and he is nominated, we will get out an extra; and I am so confident of + your success that I'll tell you now that the extra will be ready the night + before the convention. We will contrive that Mr. Harkless shall not + receive his copy of the paper containing the notice of the change of date, + and I think the chance of his seeing it in any Rouen paper may be avoided. + That is all, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Keating. “That is certainly the course to follow.” Every + one nodded, or acquiesced in words; and Keating and Bence came over to + Helen and engaged her in conversation. The others began to look about for + their hats, vaguely preparing to leave. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” said the judge. “There's no train due just now.” And + Minnie appeared in the doorway with a big pitcher of crab-apple cider, + rich and amber-hued, sparkling, cold, and redolent of the sweet-smelling + orchard where it was born. Behind Miss Briscoe came Mildy Upton with + glasses and a fat, shaking, four-storied jelly-cake on a second tray. The + judge passed his cigars around, and the gentlemen took them blithely, then + hesitatingly held them in their fingers and glanced at the ladies, + uncertain of permission. + </p> + <p> + “Let me get you some matches,” Helen said, quickly, and found a box on the + table and handed it to Keating. Every one sat beaming, and fragrant veils + of smoke soon draped the room. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you call her 'Miss Sherwood'?” Boswell whispered in Keating's ear. + </p> + <p> + “That's her name.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't she the daughter of that old fellow over there by the window? Ain't + her name Fisbee?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she's his daughter, but her legal name's Sherwood; she's an adop——” + </p> + <p> + “Great Scott! I know all about that. I'd like to know if there's a man, + woman, or child in this part of the country that doesn't. I guess it won't + be Fisbee or Sherwood either very long. She can easy get a new name, <i>that</i> + lady! And if she took a fancy to Boswell, why, I'm a bach——” + </p> + <p> + “I expect she won't take a fancy to Boswell very early,” said Keating. + “They say it will be Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + “Go 'way,” returned Mr. Boswell. “What do you want to say that for? Can't + you bear for anybody to be happy a minute or two, now and then?” + </p> + <p> + Warren Smith approached Helen and inquired if it would be asking too much + if they petitioned her for some music; so she went to the piano, and sang + some darky songs for them, with a quaint suggestion of the dialect—two + or three old-fashioned negro melodies of Foster's, followed by some + rollicking modern imitations with the movement and spirit of a tinshop + falling down a flight of stairs. Her audience listened in delight from the + first; but the latter songs quite overcame them with pleasure and + admiration, and before she finished, every head in the room was jogging + from side to side, and forward and back, in time to the music, while every + foot shuffled the measures on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + When the gentlemen from out of town discovered that it was time to leave + if they meant to catch their train, Helen called to them to wait, and they + gathered about her. + </p> + <p> + “Just one second,” she said, and she poured all the glasses full to the + brim; then, standing in the centre of the circle they made around her, she + said: + </p> + <p> + “Before you go, shan't we pledge each other to our success in this good, + home-grown Indiana cider, that leaves our heads clear and our arms strong? + If you will—then—” She began to blush furiously and her voice + trembled, but she lifted the glass high over her head and cried bravely, + “Here's to 'Our Candidate'!” + </p> + <p> + The big men, towering over her, threw back their heads and quaffed the + gentle liquor to the last drop. Then they sent up the first shout of the + campaign, and cheered John Harkless till the rafters rang. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” said Mr. Keating, as he and Boswell and the men from Gaines + drove away in Judd Bennett's omnibus, “my friends, here is where I begin + the warmest hustling I ever did. I want Harkless, everybody wants him——” + </p> + <p> + “It is a glorious idea,” said Mr. Bence. “The name of Harkless——” + </p> + <p> + Keating drowned the oratory. “But that isn't all. That little girl wants + him to go to Congress, and that settles it. He goes.” + </p> + <p> + That evening Minnie and her father were strolling up and down the front + walk together, between the flowered borders. + </p> + <p> + “Do you give up?” asked the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Give up what? No!” returned his daughter. + </p> + <p> + “She hasn't told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet; she and Mr. Fisbee left for the office right after those men + went.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you discovered what the 'something about politics' she's doing + for him is? Did you understand what she meant by 'Our Candidate'?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see her blush when she proposed that toast?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. So would anybody—with all those men, and their eyes hanging + out on their cheeks!” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! She got up the whole show. Do you know why?” + </p> + <p> + “I only know it's politics.” + </p> + <p> + “Politics!” He glanced over his shoulder, and then, leaning toward her, he + said, in a low tone: “I'll tell you in confidence, Minnie; she's sending + him to Congress!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she cried triumphantly. “If she loved him she wouldn't do <i>that</i>, + would she?” + </p> + <p> + “Minnie!” Briscoe turned upon her sternly. “I don't want to hear any more + talk like that. It's the way with some papers to jibe at our great + institutions, and you've been reading them; that's the trouble with you. + The only criticism any one has any business making against Congress is + that it's too good for some of the men we send there. Congress is our + great virtue, understand; the congressmen are our fault.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean anything like that,” protested the girl. “I haven't been + reading any papers except the 'Herald.' I meant why should she send him + away if she cared about him?” + </p> + <p> + “She'll go with him.” + </p> + <p> + “They couldn't both go. What would become of the 'Herald'?” + </p> + <p> + “They'd fix that easy enough; there are plenty of smart young fellows in + Rouen they could get to run it while they are in Washington.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harkless is sure to be elected, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is, if he's nominated.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't he get the nomination?” + </p> + <p> + “Get it! Nobody ever happened to think of him for it till it came into <i>her</i> + head; and the only thing I look to see standing in the way of it is + Harkless himself; but I expect we can leave it to her to manage, and I + guess she will. She's got more diplomacy than Blaine. Kedge Halloway is up + the spout all right, but they want to keep it quiet; that's why she had + them come here instead of the office.” + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn't marry him a minute sooner because he went to Congress,” said + Minnie thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “You're giving up,” he exclaimed. “You know I'm right.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait and see. It might—No, you're wrong as wrong can be! I wish you + weren't. Don't you see? You're blind. She <i>couldn't</i> do all these + things for him if she loved him. That's the very proof itself. I suppose + you—well, you can't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you one thing,” he returned. “If she doesn't, the rest of it + won't amount to a rip with John Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it will. Nobody could help liking to find himself as big a man as + he'll be when he comes back here. Besides, don't you see, it's her way of + making it up to him for not liking him as much as he wants. <i>You</i> + give up, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he cried, with feeble violence, “I don't. She'll find out some + things about herself when she sees him again.” + </p> + <p> + Minnie shook her head. + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of wheels; the buckboard drew up at the gate, and Helen, + returning from her evening's labor, jumped out lightly, and ran around to + pat the horses' heads. “Thank you so much, Mr. Willetts,” she said to the + driver. “I know you will handle the two delegates you are to look after as + well as you do the judge's team; and you ought to, you know, because the + delegates are men. You dears!” She stroked the sleek necks of the colts + and handed them bunches of grass. + </p> + <p> + Briscoe came out, and let the friendly animals nose his shoulder as he + looked gravely down on the piquant face beside him in the dusk. “Young + lady,” he said, “go East. Wait till we get on to Washington, and sit in + the gallery, and see John Harkless rise up in his place, and hear the + Speaker say: 'The Gentleman from Indiana!' I know the chills would go up + and down my spine, and I guess you'd feel pretty well paid for your day's + work. I guess we all would.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you tired, Helen?” asked Minnie, coming to her in the darkness and + clasping her waist. + </p> + <p> + “Tired? No; I'm happy. Did you ever see the stars so bright?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. THE TREACHERY OF H. FISBEE + </h2> + <p> + An Indiana town may lie asleep a long time, but there always comes a day + when it wakes up; and Plattville had wakened in August when the “Herald” + became a daily and Eph Watts struck oil. It was then that history began to + be made. The “Herald” printed News, and the paper was sold every morning + at stands in all the towns in that section of the State. Its circulation + tripled. Parker talked of new presses; two men were added to his staff, + and a reporter was brought from Rouen to join Mr. Fisbee. The “Herald” + boomed the oil-field; people swarmed into town; the hotel was crowded; + strangers became no sensation whatever. A capitalist bought the whole + north side of the Square to erect new stores, and the Carlow Bank began + the construction of a new bank building of Bedford stone on Main Street. + Then it was whispered, next affirmed, that the “Herald” had succeeded in + another of its enterprises, and Main Street was to be asphalted. That was + the end of the “old days” of Plattville. + </p> + <p> + There was a man who had laid the foundation upon which the new Plattville + was to be built; he who, through the quiet labor of years, had stamped his + spirit upon the people, as their own was stamped upon him; but he lay sick + in his friend's house and did not care. One day Meredith found him propped + up in bed, reading a letter—reading it listlessly, and with a dull + eye. + </p> + <p> + “PLATTVILLE, <i>September 1st</i>. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dear Mr. Harkless</i>: Yours of the 30th received. Every one here is + very glad to know that your health is so far improved as to admit of your + writing; and it is our strongest hope that you will soon be completely + recovered. + </p> + <p> + “New subscriptions are coming in at a slightly advanced rate since my last + letter; you will see they are distributed over several counties, when you + examine the books on your return; and I am glad to state that with our + arrangement for Gainesville the 'Herald' is now selling every morning at a + prominent store in all the towns within the radius we determined on. Our + plan of offering the daily with no advance on the price of the former + tri-weekly issue proves a success. I now propose making the issue a quarto + every day (at the same price) instead of once a week. I think our + experience warrants the experiment. It is my belief that our present + circulation will be increased forty per cent. Please advise me if you + approve. Of course this would mean a further increase of our working + force, and we should have to bring another man from Rouen—possibly + two more—but I think we need not fear such enlargements. + </p> + <p> + “I should tell you that I have taken you at your word entrusting me with + the entire charge of your interests here, and I had the store-room + adjoining the office put in shape, and offered it to the telegraph company + for half the rent they were paying in their former quarters over the + post-office. They have moved in; and this, in addition to giving us our + despatches direct, is a reduction of expense. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Watts informs me that the Standard's offer is liberal and the terms + are settled. The boom is not hollow, it is simply an awakening; and the + town, so long a dependent upon the impetus of agriculture or its trade, is + developing a prosperity of its own on other lines as well. Strangers come + every day; oil has lubricated every commercial joint. Contracts have been + let for three new brick business buildings to be erected on the east side + of the Square. The value of your Main Street frontage will have doubled by + December, and possibly you may see fit to tear away the present building + and put up another, instead; the investment might be profitable. The + 'Herald' could find room on the second and third floors, and the first + could be let to stores. + </p> + <p> + “I regret that you find your copy of the paper for the 29th overlooked in + the mail and that your messenger could find none for you at the newspaper + offices in Rouen. Mr. Schofield was given directions in regard to + supplying you with the missing issue at once. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that you may have had difficulty in deciphering some of my former + missives, as I was unfamiliar with the typewriter when I took charge of + the 'Herald'; however, I trust that you find my later letters more + legible. + </p> + <p> + “The McCune people are not worrying us; we are sure to defeat them. The + papers you speak of were found by Mr. Parker in your trunk, and are now in + my hands. + </p> + <p> + “I send with this a packet of communications and press clippings + indicative of the success of the daily, and in regard to other + innovations. The letters from women commendatory of our 'Woman's Page,' + thanking us for various house-keeping receipts, etc., strike me as + peculiarly interesting, as I admit that a 'Woman's Page' is always a + difficult matter for a man to handle without absurdity. + </p> + <p> + “Please do not think I mean to plume myself upon our various successes; we + attempted our innovations and enlargements at just the right time—a + time which you had ripened by years of work and waiting, and at the moment + when you had built up the reputation of the 'Herald' to its highest point. + Everything that has been done is successful only because you paved the + way, and because every one knows it is your paper; and the people believe + that whatever your paper does is interesting and right. + </p> + <p> + “Trusting that your recovery will be rapid, I am + </p> + <p> + “Yours truly, + </p> + <p> + “H. FISBEE.” + </p> + <p> + Harkless dropped the typewritten sheets with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I ought to get well,” he said wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Meredith, “I think you ought; but you're chock full of malaria + and fever and all kinds of meanness, and——” + </p> + <p> + “You 'tend to your own troubles,” returned the other, with an imitation of + liveliness. “I—I don't think it interests me much,” he said + querulously. He was often querulous of late, and it frightened Tom. “I'm + just tired. I am strong enough—that is, I think I am till I try to + move around, and then I'm like a log, and a lethargy gets me—that's + it; I don't think it's malaria; it's lethargy.” + </p> + <p> + “Lethargy comes from malaria.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the other way with me. I'd be all right if I only could get over + this—this tiredness. Let me have that pencil and pad, will you, + please, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + He set the pad on his knee, and began to write languidly: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “ROUEN, <i>September 2d</i>. +</pre> + <p> + “<i>Dear Mr. Fisbee</i>: Yours of the 1st to hand. I entirely approve all + arrangements you have made. I think you understand that I wish you to + regard <i>everything</i> as in your own hands. You are the editor of the + 'Herald' and have the sole responsibility for everything, including + policy, until, after proper warning, I relieve you in person. But until + that time comes, you must look upon me as a mere spectator. I do not fear + that you will make any mistakes; you have done very much better in all + matters than I could have done myself. At present I have only one + suggestion: I observe that your editorials concerning Halloway's + renomination are something lukewarm. + </p> + <p> + “It is very important that he be renominated, not altogether on account of + assuring his return to Washington (for he is no Madison, I fear), but the + fellow McCune must be so beaten that his defeat will be remembered for + twenty years. Halloway is honest and clean, at least, while McCune is + corrupt to the bone. He has been bought and sold, and I am glad the proofs + of it are in your hands, as you tell me Parker found them, as directed, in + my trunk, and gave them to you. + </p> + <p> + “The papers you hold drove him out of politics once, by the mere threat of + publication; you should have printed them last week, as I suggested. Do so + at once; the time is short. You have been too gentle; it has the air of + fearing to offend, and of catering, as if we were afraid of antagonizing + people against us; as though we had a personal stake in the convention. + Possibly you consider our subscription books as such; I do not. But if + they are, go ahead twice as hard. What if it does give the enemy a weapon + in case McCune is nominated; if he is (and I begin to see a danger of it) + we will be with the enemy. I do not carry my partisanship so far as to + help elect Mr. McCune to Congress. You have been as non-committal in your + editorials as if this were a fit time for delicacy and the cheaper + conception of party policy. My notion of party policy—no new one—is + that the party which considers the public service before it considers + itself will thrive best in the long run. The 'Herald' is a little paper + (not so little nowadays, after all, thanks to you), but it is an honest + one, and it isn't afraid of Rod McCune and his friends. He is to be + beaten, understand, if we have to send him to the penitentiary on an old + issue to do it. And if the people wish to believe us cruel or vengeful, + let them. Please let me see as hearty a word as you can say for Halloway, + also. You can write with ginger; please show some in this matter. + </p> + <p> + “My condition is improved. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I am, very truly yours, + + “JOHN HARKLESS.” + </pre> + <p> + When the letter was concluded, he handed it to Meredith. “Please address + that, put a 'special' on it, and send it, Tom. It should go at once, so as + to reach him by to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “H. Fisbee?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; H. Fisbee.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it does you good to write, boy,” said the other, as he bent + over him. “You look more chirrupy than you have for several days.” + </p> + <p> + “It's that beast, McCune; young Fisbee is rather queer about it, and I + felt stirred up as I went along.” But even before the sentence was + finished the favor of age and utter weariness returned, and the dark lids + closed over his eyes. They opened again, slowly, and he took the others + hand and looked up at him mournfully, but as it were his soul shone forth + in dumb and eloquent thanks. + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm giving you a jolly summer, Tom,” he said, with a quivering + effort to smile. “Don't you think I am? I don't—I don't know what I + should have—done——” + </p> + <p> + “You old Indian!” said Meredith, tenderly. + </p> + <p> + Three days later, Tom was rejoiced by symptoms of invigoration in his + patient. A telegram came for Harkless, and Meredith, bringing it into the + sick room, was surprised to find the occupant sitting straight up on his + couch without the prop of pillows. He was reading the day's copy of the + “Herald,” and his face was flushed and his brow stern. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Mismanagement, I hope,” said the other, in a strong voice. “Worse, + perhaps. It's this young Fisbee. I can't think what's come over the + fellow. I thought he was a rescuing angel, and he's turning out bad. I'll + swear it looks like they'd been—well, I won't say that yet. But he + hasn't printed that McCune business I told you of, and he's had two days. + There is less than a week before the convention, and—” He broke off, + seeing the yellow envelope in Meredith's hand. “Is that a telegram for + me?” His companion gave it to him. He tore it open and read the contents. + They were brief and unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you do something? Can't you come down? It begins to look the other + way. + </p> + <p> + “K. H.” + </p> + <p> + “It's from Halloway,” said John. “I have got to go. What did that doctor + say?” + </p> + <p> + “He said two weeks at the earliest, or you'll run into typhoid and + complications from your hurts, and even pleasanter things than that. I've + got you here, and here you stay; so lie back and get easy, boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then give me that pad and pencil.” He rapidly dashed off a note to H. + Fisbee: + </p> + <p> + “<i>September 5th</i>. + </p> + <p> + “H. FISBEE, + </p> + <p> + “Editor 'Carlow Herald.' + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dear Sir</i>: You have not acknowledged my letter of the 2d September + by a note (which should have reached me the following morning), or by the + alteration in the tenor of my columns which I requested, or by the + publication of the McCune papers which I directed. In this I hold you + grossly at fault. If you have a conscientious reason for refusing to carry + out my request it should have been communicated to me at once, as should + the fact—if such be the case—that you are a personal (or + impersonal, if you like) friend of Mr. Rodney McCune. Whatever the motive, + ulterior or otherwise, which prevents you from operating my paper as I + direct, I should have been informed of it. This is a matter vital to the + interests of our community, and you have hitherto shown yourself too alert + in accepting my slightest suggestion for me to construe this failure as + negligence. Negligence I might esteem as at least honest and frank; your + course has been neither the one nor the other. + </p> + <p> + “You will receive this letter by seven this evening by special delivery. + You will print the facts concerning McCune in to-morrow morning's paper. + </p> + <p> + “I am well aware of the obligations under which your extreme efficiency + and your thoughtfulness in many matters have placed me. It is to you I owe + my unearned profits from the transaction in oil, and it is to you I owe + the 'Herald's' extraordinary present circulation, growth of power and + influence. That power is still under my direction, and is an added + responsibility which shall not be misapplied. + </p> + <p> + “You must forgive me if I write too sharply. You see I have failed to + understand your silence; and if I wrong you I heartily ask your pardon in + advance of your explanation. Is it that you are sorry for McCune? It would + be a weak pity that could keep you to silence. I warned him long ago that + the papers you hold would be published if he ever tried to return to + political life, and he is deliberately counting on my physical weakness + and absence. Let him rely upon it; I am not so weak as he thinks. + Personally, I cannot say that I dislike Mr. McCune. I have found him a + very entertaining fellow; it is said he is the best of husbands, and a + friend to some of his friends, and, believe me, I am sorry for him from + the bottom of my heart. But the 'Herald' is not. + </p> + <p> + “You need not reply by letter. To-morrow's issue answers for you. Until I + have received a copy, I withhold my judgment. + </p> + <p> + “JOHN HARKLESS.” + </p> + <p> + The morrow's issue—that fateful print on which depended John + Harkless's opinion of H. Fisbee's integrity—contained an editorial + addressed to the delegates of the convention, warning them to act for the + vital interest of the community, and declaring that the opportunity to be + given them in the present convention was a rare one, a singular piece of + good fortune indeed; they were to have the chance to vote for a man who + had won the love and respect of every person in the district—one who + had suffered for his championship of righteousness—one whom even his + few political enemies confessed they held in personal affection and esteem—one + who had been the inspiration of a new era—one whose life had been + helpfulness, whose hand had reached out to every struggler and unfortunate—a + man who had met and faced danger for the sake of others—one who + lived under a threat for years, and who had been almost overborne in the + fulfilment of that threat, but who would live to see the sun shine on his + triumph, the tribute the convention would bring him as a gift from a + community that loved him. His name needed not to be told; it was on every + lip that morning, and in every heart. + </p> + <p> + Tom was eagerly watching his companion as he read. Harkless fell back on + the pillows with a drawn face, and for a moment he laid his thin hand over + his eyes in a gesture of intense pain. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” Meredith said quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the pad, please.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, boy?” + </p> + <p> + The other's teeth snapped together. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he cried. “What is it? It's treachery, and the worst I ever + knew. Not a word of the accusation I demanded—lying <i>praises</i> + instead! Read that editorial—there, <i>there</i>!” He struck the + page with the back of his hand, and threw the paper to Meredith. “Read + that miserable lie! 'One who has won the love and respect of every person + in the district!'—'One who has suffered for his championship of + righteousness!' <i>Righteousness!</i> Save the mark!” + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Mean! It means McCune—Rod McCune, 'who has lived under a threat for + years'—<i>my</i> threat! I swore I would print him out of Indiana if + he ever raised his head again, and he knew I could. 'Almost overborne in + the fulfilment of that threat!' <i>Almost</i>! It's a black scheme, and I + see it now. This man came to Plattville and went on the 'Herald' for + nothing in the world but this. It's McCune's hand all along. He daren't + name him even now, the coward! The trick lies between McCune and young + Fisbee—the old man is innocent. Give me the pad. Not <i>almost</i> + overborne. There are three good days to work in, and, by the gods of + Perdition, if Rod McCune sees Congress it will be in his next + incarnation!” + </p> + <p> + He rapidly scribbled a few lines on the pad, and threw the sheets to + Meredith. “Get those telegrams to the Western Union office in a rush, + please. Read them first.” + </p> + <p> + With a very red face Tom read them. One was addressed to H. Fisbee: + </p> + <p> + “You are relieved from the cares of editorship. You will turn over the + management of the 'Herald' to Warren Smith. You will give him the McCune + papers. If you do not, or if you destroy them, you cannot hide where I + shall not find you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “JOHN HARKLESS.” + </pre> + <p> + The second was to Warren Smith: “Take possession 'Herald.' Dismiss H. + Fisbee. This your authority. Publish McCune papers so labelled which H. + Fisbee will hand you. Letter follows. Beat McCune. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “JOHN HARKLESS.” + </pre> + <p> + The author of the curt epistles tossed restlessly on his couch, but the + reader of them stared, incredulous and dumfounded, uncertain of his + command of gravity. His jaw fell, and his open mouth might have betokened + a being smit to imbecility; and, haply, he might be, for Helen had written + him from Plattville, pledging his honor to secrecy with the first words, + and it was by her command that he had found excuses for not supplying his + patient with all the papers which happened to contain references to the + change of date for the Plattville convention. And Meredith had known for + some time where James Fisbee had found a “young relative” to be the savior + of the “Herald” for his benefactor's sake. + </p> + <p> + “You mean—you—intend to—you discharge young Fisbee?” he + stammered at last. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Let me have the answers the instant they come, will you, Tom?” Then + Harkless turned his face from the wall and spoke through his teeth: “I + mean to see H. Fisbee before many days; I want to talk to him!” + </p> + <p> + But, though he tossed and fretted himself into what the doctor pronounced + a decidedly improved state, no answer came to either telegram that day or + night. The next morning a messenger boy stumbled up the front steps and + handed the colored man, Jim, four yellow envelopes, night messages. Three + of them were for Harkless, one was for Meredith. Jim carried them + upstairs, left the three with his master's guest, then knocked on his + master's door. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” answered a thick voice. Meredith had not yet risen. + </p> + <p> + “A telegraph. Mist' Tawm.” + </p> + <p> + There was a terrific yawn. “O-o-oh! Slide it—oh—under the—door.” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh.” + </p> + <p> + Meredith lay quite without motion for several minutes, sleepily watching + the yellow rhomboid in the crevice. It was a hateful looking thing to come + mixing in with pleasant dreams and insist upon being read. After a while + he climbed groaningly out of bed, and read the message with heavy eyes, + still half asleep. He read it twice before it penetrated: + </p> + <p> + “Suppress all newspapers to-day. Convention meets at eleven. If we succeed + a delegation will come to Rouen this afternoon. They will come. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “HELEN.” + </pre> + <p> + Tom rubbed his sticky eyelids, and shook his head violently in a Spartan + effort to rouse himself; but what more effectively performed the task for + him were certain sounds issuing from Harkless's room, across the hall. For + some minutes, Meredith had been dully conscious of a rustle and stir in + the invalid's chamber, and he began to realize that no mere tossing about + a bed would account for a noise that reached him across a wide hall and + through two closed doors of thick walnut. Suddenly he heard a quick, heavy + tread, shod, in Harkless's room, and a resounding bang, as some heavy + object struck the floor. The doctor was not to come till evening; Jim had + gone down-stairs. Who wore shoes in the sick man's room? He rushed across + the hall in his pyjamas and threw open the unlocked door. + </p> + <p> + The bed was disarranged and vacant. Harkless, fully dressed, was standing + in the middle of the floor, hurling garments at a big travelling bag. + </p> + <p> + The horrified Meredith stood for a second, bleached and speechless, then + he rushed upon his friend and seized him with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “Mad, by heaven! Mad!” + </p> + <p> + “Let go of me, Tom!” + </p> + <p> + “Lunatic! Lunatic!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't stop me one instant!” + </p> + <p> + Meredith tried to force him toward the bed. “For mercy's sake, get back to + bed. You're delirious, boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Delirious nothing. I'm a well man.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to bed—go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Harkless set him out of the way with one arm. “Bed be hanged!” he cried. + “I'm going to Plattville!” + </p> + <p> + Meredith wrung his hands. “The doctor——“! + </p> + <p> + “Doctor be damned!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me what has happened, John?” + </p> + <p> + His companion slung a light overcoat, unfolded, on the overflowing, + misshapen bundle of clothes that lay in the bag; then he jumped on the lid + with both feet and kicked the hasp into the lock; a very elegantly + laundered cuff and white sleeve dangling out from between the fastened + lids. “I haven't one second to talk, Tom; I have seventeen minutes to + catch the express, and it's a mile and a half to the station; the train + leaves here at eight fifty, I get to Plattville at ten forty-seven. + Telephone for a cab for me, please, or tell me the number; I don't want to + stop to hunt it up.” + </p> + <p> + Meredith looked him in the eyes. In the pupils of Harkless flared a fierce + light. His cheeks were reddened with an angry, healthy glow, and his teeth + were clenched till the line of his jaw stood out like that of an embattled + athlete in sculpture; his brow was dark; his chest was thrown out, and he + took deep, quick breaths; his shoulders were squared, and in spite of his + thinness they looked massy. Lethargy, or malaria, or both, whatever were + his ailments, they were gone. He was six feet of hot wrath and cold + resolution. + </p> + <p> + Tom said: “You are going?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, “I am going.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Tom,” said the other quietly. + </p> + <p> + Meredith ran into his own room, pressed an electric button, sprang out of + his pyjamas like Aphrodite from the white sea-foam, and began to dive into + his clothes with a panting rapidity astonishingly foreign to his desire. + Jim appeared in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “The cart, Jim,” shouted his master. “We want it like lightning. Tell the + cook to give Mr. Harkless his breakfast in a hurry. Set a cup of coffee on + the table by the front door for me. Run like the deuce! We've got to catch + a train.—That will be quicker than any cab,” he explained to + Harkless. “We'll break the ordinance against fast driving, getting down + there.” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the cart swept away from the house at a gait which + pained the respectable neighborhood. The big horse plunged through the + air, his ears laid flat toward his tail; the cart careened sickeningly; + the face of the servant clutching at the rail in the rear was smeared with + pallor as they pirouetted around curves on one wheel—to him it + seemed they skirted the corners and Death simultaneously—and the + speed of their going made a strong wind in their faces. + </p> + <p> + Harkless leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Can you make it a little faster, Tom?” he said. + </p> + <p> + They dashed up to the station amid the cries of people flying to the walls + for safety; the two gentlemen leaped from the cart, bore down upon the + ticket-office, stormed at the agent, and ran madly at the gates, + flourishing their passports. The official on duty eyed them wearily, and + barred the way. + </p> + <p> + “Been gone two minutes,” he remarked, with a peaceable yawn. + </p> + <p> + Harkless stamped his foot on the cement flags; then he stood stock still, + gazing at the empty tracks; but Meredith turned to him, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Won't it keep?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it will keep,” John answered. “Part of it may have to keep till + election day, but some of it I will settle before night. And that,” he + cried, between his teeth, “and that is the part of it in regard to young + Mr. Fisbee!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's about H. Fisbee, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's H. Fisbee.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we might as well go up and see what the doctor thinks of you; + there's no train.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to see a doctor again, ever—as long as I live. I'm as + well as anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Tom burst out laughing, and clapped his companion lightly on the shoulder, + his eyes dancing with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul,” he cried, “I believe you are! It's against all my + tradition, and I see I am the gull of poetry; for I've always believed it + to be beyond question that this sort of miracle was wrought, not by rage, + but by the tenderer senti—” Tom checked himself. “Well, let's take a + drive.” + </p> + <p> + “Meredith,” said the other, turning to him gravely, “you may think me a + fool, if you will, and it's likely I am; but I don't leave this station + except by train. I've only two days to work in, and every minute lessens + our chances to beat McCune, and I have to begin by wasting time on a + tussle with a traitor. There's another train at eleven fifty-five; I don't + take any chances on missing that one.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” laughed his friend, pushing him good-humoredly toward a door + by a red and white striped pillar, “we'll wait here, if you like; but at + least go in there and get a shave; it's a clean shop. You want to look + your best if you are going down to fight H. Fisbee.” + </p> + <p> + “Take these, then, and you will understand,” said Harkless; and he thrust + his three telegrams of the morning into Tom's hand and disappeared into + the barber-shop. When he was gone, Meredith went to the telegraph office + in the station, and sent a line over the wire to Helen: + </p> + <p> + “Keep your delegation at home. He's coming on the 11.55.” + </p> + <p> + Then he read the three telegrams Harkless had given him. They were all + from Plattville: + </p> + <p> + “Sorry cannot oblige. Present incumbent tenacious. Unconditionally refuses + surrender. Delicate matter. No hope for K. H. But don't worry. Everything + all right. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “WARREN SMITH.” + </pre> + <p> + “Harkless, if you have the strength to walk, come down before the + convention. Get here by 10.47. Looks bad. Come if it kills you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “K. H.” + </pre> + <p> + “You entrusted me with sole responsibility for all matters pertaining to + 'Herald.' Declared yourself mere spectator. Does this permit your + interfering with my policy for the paper? Decline to consider any + proposition to relieve me of my duties without proper warning and + allowance of time. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “H. FISBEE.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE GREAT HARKLESS COMES HOME + </h2> + <p> + The accommodation train wandered languidly through the early afternoon + sunshine, stopping at every village and almost every country post-office + on the line; the engine toot-tooting at the road crossings; and, now and + again, at such junctures, a farmer, struggling with a team of prancing + horses, would be seen, or, it might be, a group of school children, + homeward bound from seats of learning. At each station, when the train + came to a stand-still, some passenger, hanging head and elbows out of his + window, like a quilt draped over a chair, would address a citizen on the + platform: + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Sam, how's Miz Bushkirk?” + </p> + <p> + “She's wal.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Milt, this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Warshing the buggy.” Then at the cry, “All 'board”—“See you Sunday + over at Amo.” + </p> + <p> + “You make Milt come. I'll be there, shore. So long.” + </p> + <p> + There was an impatient passenger in the smoker, who found the stoppages at + these wayside hamlets interminable, both in frequency and in the delay at + each of them; and while the dawdling train remained inert, and the moments + passed inactive, his eyes dilated and his hand clenched till the nails bit + his palm; then, when the trucks groaned and the wheels crooned against the + rails once more, he sank back in his seat with sighs of relief. Sometimes + he would get up and pace the aisle until his companion reminded him that + this was not certain to hasten the hour of their arrival at their + destination. + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” answered the other, “but I've got to beat McCune.” + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” observed Meredith, “you left your stick behind.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think I need a club to face——” + </p> + <p> + Tom choked. “Oh, no. I wasn't thinking of your giving H. Fisbee a + thrashing. I meant to lean on.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want it. I've got to walk lame all my life, but I'm not going to + hobble on a stick.” Tom looked at him sadly; for it was true, and the + Cross-Roaders might hug themselves in their cells over the thought. For + the rest of his life John Harkless was to walk with just the limp they + themselves would have had, if, as in former days, their sentence had been + to the ball and chain. + </p> + <p> + The window was open beside the two young men, and the breeze swept in, + fresh from the wide fields, There was a tang in the air; it soothed like a + balm, but there was a spur to energy and heartiness in its crispness, the + wholesome touch of fall. John looked out over the boundless aisles of corn + that stood higher than a tall man could reach; long waves rippled across + them. Here, where the cry of the brave had rung in forest glades, where + the painted tribes had hastened, were marshalled the tasselled armies of + peace. And beyond these, where the train ran between shadowy groves, + delicate landscape vistas, framed in branches, opened, closed, and + succeeded each other, and then the travellers were carried out into the + level open again, and the intensely blue September skies ran down to the + low horizon, meeting the tossing plumes of corn. + </p> + <p> + It takes a long time for the full beauty of the flat lands to reach a + man's soul; once there, nor hills, nor sea, nor growing fan leaves of palm + shall suffice him. It is like the beauty in the word “Indiana.” It may be + that there are people who do not consider “Indiana” a beautiful word; but + once it rings true in your ears it has a richer sound than “Vallombrosa.” + </p> + <p> + There was a newness in the atmosphere that day, a bright invigoration, + that set the blood tingling. The hot months were done with, languor was + routed. Autumn spoke to industry, told of the sowing of another harvest, + of the tawny shock, of the purple grape, of the red apple, and called upon + muscle and laughter; breathed gaiety into men's hearts. The little + stations hummed with bustle and noise; big farm wagons rattled away and + raced with cut-under or omnibus; people walked with quick steps; the + baggage-masters called cheerily to the trainmen, and the brakemen laughed + good-bys to rollicking girls. + </p> + <p> + As they left Gainesville three children, clad in calico, barefoot and + bareheaded, came romping out of a log cabin on the outskirts of the town, + and waved their hands to the passengers. They climbed on the sagging gate + in front of their humble domain, and laughed for joy to see the monstrous + caravan come clattering out of the unknown, bearing the faces by. The + smallest child, a little cherubic tow-head, whose cheeks were smeared with + clean earth and the tracks of forgotten tears, stood upright on a + fence-post, and blew the most impudent of kisses to the strangers on a + journey. + </p> + <p> + Beyond this they came into a great plain, acres and acres of green + rag-weed where the wheat had grown, all so flat one thought of an enormous + billiard table, and now, where the railroad crossed the country roads, + they saw the staunch brown thistle, sometimes the sumach, and always the + graceful iron-weed, slender, tall, proud, bowing a purple-turbaned head, + or shaking in an agony of fright when it stood too close to the train. The + fields, like great, flat emeralds set in new metal, were bordered with + golden-rod, and at sight of this the heart leaped; for the golden-rod is a + symbol of stored granaries, of ripe sheaves, of the kindness of the season + generously given and abundantly received; more, it is the token of a land + of promise and of bounteous fulfilment; and the plant stains its blossom + with yellow so that when it falls it pays tribute to the ground which has + nourished it. + </p> + <p> + From the plain they passed again into a thick wood, where ruddy arrows of + the sun glinted among the boughs; and, here and there, one saw a courtly + maple or royal oak wearing a gala mantle of crimson and pale brown, + gallants of the forest preparing early for the October masquerade, when + they should hold wanton carnival, before they stripped them of their + finery for pious gray. + </p> + <p> + And when the coughing engine drew them to the borders of this wood, they + rolled out into another rich plain of green and rust-colored corn; and far + to the south John Harkless marked a winding procession of sycamores, + which, he knew, followed the course of a slender stream; and the waters of + the stream flowed by a bank where wild thyme might have grown, and where, + beyond an orchard and a rose-garden, a rustic bench was placed in the + shade of the trees; and the name of the stream was Hibbard's Creek. Here + the land lay flatter than elsewhere; the sky came closer, with a gentler + benediction; the breeze blew in, laden with keener spices; there was the + flavor of apples and the smell of the walnut and a hint of coming frost; + the immeasurable earth lay more patiently to await the husbandman; and the + whole world seemed to extend flat in line with the eye—for this was + Carlow County. + </p> + <p> + All at once the anger ran out of John Harkless; he was a hard man for + anger to tarry with. And in place of it a strong sense of home-coming + began to take possession of him. He was going home. “Back to Plattville, + where I belong,” he had said; and he said it again without bitterness, for + it was the truth. “Every man cometh to his own place in the end.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, as one leaves a gay acquaintance of the playhouse lobby for some + hard-handed, tried old friend, so he would wave the outer world God-speed + and come back to the old ways of Carlow. What though the years were dusty, + he had his friends and his memories and his old black brier pipe. He had a + girl's picture that he should carry in his heart till his last day; and if + his life was sadder, it was infinitely richer for it. His winter fireside + should be not so lonely for her sake; and losing her, he lost not + everything, for he had the rare blessing of having known her. And what man + could wish to be healed of such a hurt? Far better to have had it than to + trot a smug pace unscathed. + </p> + <p> + He had been a dullard; he had lain prostrate in the wretchedness of his + loss. “A girl you could put in your hat—and there you have a strong + man prone.” He had been a sluggard, weary of himself, unfit to fight, a + failure in life and a failure in love. That was ended; he was tired of + failing, and it was time to succeed for a while. To accept the worst that + Fate can deal, and to wring courage from it instead of despair, that is + success; and it was the success that he would have. He would take Fate by + the neck. But had it done him unkindness? He looked out over the + beautiful, “monotonous” landscape, and he answered heartily, “No!” There + was ignorance in man, but no unkindness; were man utterly wise he were + utterly kind. The Cross-Roaders had not known better; that was all. + </p> + <p> + The unfolding aisles of corn swam pleasantly before John's eyes. The earth + hearkened to man's wants and answered; the clement sun and summer rains + hastened the fruition. Yonder stood the brown haystack, garnered to feed + the industrious horse who had earned his meed; there was the + straw-thatched shelter for the cattle. How the orchard boughs bent with + their burdens! The big red barns stood stored with the harvested wheat; + and, beyond the pasture-lands, tall trees rose against the benign sky to + feed the glance of a dreamer; the fertile soil lay lavender and glossy in + the furrow. The farmhouses were warmly built and hale and strong; no + winter blast should rage so bitterly as to shake them, or scatter the + hospitable embers on the hearth. For this was Carlow County, and he was + coming home. + </p> + <p> + They crossed a by-road. An old man with a streaky gray chin-beard was + sitting on a sack of oats in a seatless wagon, waiting for the train to + pass. Harkless seized his companion excitedly by the elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Tommy!” he cried. “It's Kim Fentriss—look! Did you see that old + fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw a particularly uninterested and uninteresting gentleman sitting on + a bag,” replied his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's old Kimball Fentriss. He's going to town; he lives on the + edge of the county.” + </p> + <p> + “Can this be true?” said Meredith gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Harkless thoughtfully, a few moments later, “I wonder why + he had them changed around.” + </p> + <p> + “Who changed around?” + </p> + <p> + “The team. He always used to drive the bay on the near side, and the + sorrel on the off.” + </p> + <p> + “And at present,” rejoined Meredith, “I am to understand that he is + driving the sorrel on the near side, and bay on the off?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it,” returned the other. “He must have worked them like that for + some time, because they didn't look uneasy. They're all right about the + train, those two. I've seen them stand with their heads almost against a + fast freight. See there!” He pointed to a white frame farmhouse with green + blinds. “That's Win Hibbard's. We're just outside of Beaver.” + </p> + <p> + “Beaver? Elucidate Beaver, boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Beaver? Meredith, your information ends at home. What do you know of your + own State if you are ignorant of Beaver. Beaver is that city of Carlow + County next in importance and population to Plattville.” + </p> + <p> + Tom put his head out of the window. “I fancy you are right,” he said. “I + already see five people there.” + </p> + <p> + Meredith had observed the change in his companion's mood. He had watched + him closely all day, looking for a return of his malady; but he came to + the conclusion that in truth a miracle had been wrought, for the lethargy + was gone, and vigor seemed to increase in Harkless with every turn of the + wheels that brought them nearer Plattville; and the nearer they drew to + Plattville the higher the spirits of both the young men rose. Meredith + knew what was happening there, and he began to be a little excited. As he + had said, there were five people visible at Beaver; and he wondered where + they lived, as the only building in sight was the station, and to satisfy + his curiosity he walked out to the vestibule. The little station stood in + deep woods, and brown leaves whirled along the platform. One of the five + people was an old lady, and she entered a rear car. The other four were + men. One of them handed the conductor a telegram. + </p> + <p> + Meredith heard the official say, “All right. Decorate ahead. I'll hold it + five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + The man sprang up the steps of the smoker and looked in. He turned to + Meredith: “Do you know if that gentleman in the gray coat is Mr. Harkless? + He's got his back this way, and I don't want to go inside. The—the + air in a smoker always gives me a spell.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's Mr. Harkless.” + </p> + <p> + The man jumped to the platform. “All right, boys,” he said. “Rip her out.” + </p> + <p> + The doors of the freight-room were thrown open, and a big bundle of + colored stuffs was dragged out and hastily unfolded. One of the men ran to + the further end of the car with a strip of red, white and blue bunting, + and tacked it securely, while another fastened the other extremity to the + railing of the steps by Meredith. The two companions of this pair + performed the same operation with another strip on the other side of the + car. They ran similar strips of bunting along the roof from end to end, so + that, except for the windows, the car was completely covered by the + national colors. Then they draped the vestibules with flags. It was all + done in a trice. + </p> + <p> + Meredith's heart was beating fast. “What's it all about?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Picnic down the line,” answered the man in charge, removing a tack from + his mouth. He motioned to the conductor, “Go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + The wheels began to move; the decorators remained on the platform, letting + the train pass them; but Meredith, craning his neck from the steps, saw + that they jumped on the last car. + </p> + <p> + “What's the celebration?” asked Harkless, when Meredith returned. + </p> + <p> + “Picnic down the line,” said Meredith. + </p> + <p> + “Nipping weather for a picnic; a little cool, don't you think? One of + those fellows looked like a friend of mine. Homer Tibbs, or as Homer might + look if he were in disgrace. He had his hat hung on his eyes, and he + slouched like a thief in melodrama, as he tacked up the bunting on this + side of the car.” He continued to point out various familiar places, + finally breaking out enthusiastically, as they drew nearer the town, + “Hello! Look there—beyond the grove yonder! See that house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, John.” + </p> + <p> + “That's the Bowlders'. You've got to know the Bowlders.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to.” + </p> + <p> + “The kindest people in the world. The Briscoe house we can't see, because + it's so shut in by trees; and, besides, it's a mile or so ahead of us. + We'll go out there for supper to-night. Don't you like Briscoe? He's the + best they make. We'll go up town with Judd Bennett in the omnibus, and + you'll know how a rapid-fire machine gun sounds. I want to go straight to + the 'Herald' office,” he finished, with a suddenly darkening brow. + </p> + <p> + “After all, there may be some explanation,” Meredith suggested, with a + little hesitancy. “H. Fisbee might turn out more honest than you think.” + </p> + <p> + Harkless threw his head back and laughed; it was the first time Meredith + had heard him laugh since the night of the dance in the country. “Honest! + A man in the pay of Rodney McCune! Well, we can let it wait till we get + there. Listen! There's the whistle that means we're getting near home. By + heaven, there's an oil-well!” + </p> + <p> + “So it is.” + </p> + <p> + “And another—three—five—seven—seven in sight at + once! They tried it three miles south and failed; but you can't fool Eph + Watts, bless him! I want you to know Watts.” + </p> + <p> + They were running by the outlying houses of the town, amidst a thousand + descriptive exclamations from Harkless, who wished Meredith to meet every + one in Carlow. But he came to a pause in the middle of a word. + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear music?” he asked abruptly. “Or is it only the rhythm of the + ties?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me there's music in the air,” answered his companion. “I've + been fancying I heard it for a minute or so. There! No—yes. It's a + band, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No; what would a band——” + </p> + <p> + The train slowed up, and stopped at a watertank, two hundred yards east of + the station, and their uncertainty was at an end. + </p> + <p> + From somewhere down the track came the detonating boom of a cannon. There + was a dash of brass, and the travellers became aware of a band playing + “Marching through Georgia.” Meredith laid his hand on his companion's + shoulder. “John,” he said, “John——” The cannon fired again, + and there came a cheer from three thousand throats, the shouters all + unseen. + </p> + <p> + The engine coughed and panted, the train rolled on, and in another minute + it had stopped alongside the station in the midst of a riotous jam of + happy people, who were waving flags and banners and handkerchiefs, and + tossing their hats high in the air, and shouting themselves hoarse. The + band played in dumb show; it could not hear itself play. The people came + at the smoker like a long wave, and Warren Smith, Briscoe, Keating, and + Mr. Bence of Gaines were swept ahead of it. Before the train stopped they + had rushed eagerly up the steps and entered the car. + </p> + <p> + Harkless was on his feet and started to meet them. He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” he said, and began to grow pale. “Is Halloway—did + McCune—have you——” + </p> + <p> + Warren Smith seized one of his hands and Briscoe the other. “What does it + mean?” cried Warren; “it means that you were nominated for Congress at + five minutes after one-o'clock this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “On the second ballot,” shouted the Judge, “just as young Fisbee planned + it, weeks ago.” + </p> + <p> + It was one of the great crowds of Carlow's history. They had known since + morning that he was coming home, and the gentlemen of the Reception + Committee had some busy hours; but long before the train arrived, + everything was ready. Homer Tibbs had done his work well at Beaver, and + the gray-haired veterans of a battery Carlow had sent out in '61 had + placed their worn old gun in position to fire salutes. At one-o'clock, + immediately after the nomination had been made unanimous, the Harkless + Clubs of Carlow, Amo, and Gaines, secretly organized during the quiet + agitation preceding the convention, formed on parade in the court-house + yard, and, with the Plattville Band at their head, paraded the streets to + the station, to make sure of being on hand when the train arrived—it + was due in a couple of hours. There they were joined by an increasing + number of glad enthusiasts, all noisy, exhilarated, red-faced with + shouting, and patriotically happy. As Mr. Bence, himself the spoiled child + of another county, generously said, in a speech, which (with no outrageous + pressure) he was induced to make during the long wait: “The favorite son + of Carlow is returning to his Lares and Penates like another Cincinnatus + accepting the call of the people; and, for the first time in sixteen + years, Carlow shall have a representative to bear the banner of this + district and the flaming torch of Progress sweeping on to Washington and + triumph like a speedy galleon of old. And his friends are here to take his + hand and do him homage, and the number of his friends is as the number + given in the last census of the population of the counties of this + district!” + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, in this estimate the speaker seemed guilty of no great + exaggeration. A never intermittent procession of pedestrians and vehicles + made its way to the station; and every wagon, buckboard, buggy, and + cut-under had its flags or bunting, or streamer of ribbons tied to the + whip. The excitement increased as the time grew shorter; those on foot + struggled for better positions, and the people in wagons and carriages + stood upon seats, while the pedestrians besieged them, climbing on the + wheels, or balancing recklessly, with feet on the hubs of opposite wagons. + Everybody was bound to see <i>him</i>. When the whistle announced the + coming of the train, the band began to play, the cannon fired, horns blew, + and the cheering echoed and reechoed till heaven's vault resounded with + the noise the people of Carlow were making. + </p> + <p> + There was one heart which almost stopped beating. Helen was standing on + the front seat of the Briscoe buckboard, with Minnie beside her, and, at + the commotion, the horses pranced and backed so that Lige Willetts ran to + hold them; but she did not notice the frightened roans, nor did she know + that Minnie clutched her round the waist to keep her from falling. Her + eyes were fixed intently on the smoke of the far-away engine, and her + hand, lifted to her face in an uncertain, tremulous fashion, as it was one + day in a circus tent, pressed against the deepest blush that ever mantled + a girl's cheek. When the train reached the platform, she saw Briscoe and + the others rush into the car, and there ensued what was to her an almost + intolerable pause of expectation, while the crowd besieged the windows of + the smoker, leaning up and climbing on each other's shoulders to catch the + first glimpse of <i>him</i>. Briscoe and a red-faced young man, a stranger + to Plattville, came down the steps, laughing like boys, and then Keating + and Bence, and then Warren Smith. As the lawyer reached the platform, he + turned toward the door of the car and waved his hand as in welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Here he is, boys!” he shouted, “Welcome Home!” At that it was as if all + the noise that had gone before had been mere leakage of pent-up + enthusiasm. A thousand horns blared deafeningly, the whistles of the + engine and of Hibbard's mill were added to the din, the court-house bell + was pealing out a welcome, and the church bells were ringing, the cannon + thundered, and then cheer on cheer shook the air, as John Harkless came + out under the flags, and passed down the steps of the car. + </p> + <p> + When Helen saw him, over the heads of the people and through a flying + tumult of flags and hats and handkerchiefs, she gave one frightened glance + about her, and jumped down from her high perch, and sank into the back + seat of the buckboard with her burning face turned from the station and + her eyes fixed on the ground. She wanted to run away, as she had run from + him the first time she had ever seen him. Then, as now, he came in + triumph, hailed by the plaudits of his fellows; and now, as on that + long-departed day of her young girlhood, he was borne high over the heads + of the people, for Minnie cried to her to look; they were carrying him on + their shoulders to his carriage. She had had only that brief glimpse of + him, before he was lost in the crowd that was so glad to get him back + again and so proud of him; but she had seen that he looked very white and + solemn. + </p> + <p> + Briscoe and Tom Meredith made their way through the crowd, and climbed + into the buckboard. “All right, Lige,” called the judge to Willetts, who + was at the horses' heads. “You go get into line with the boys; they want + you. We'll go down on Main Street to see the parade,” he explained to the + ladies, gathering the reins in his hand. + </p> + <p> + He clucked to the roans, and by dint of backing and twisting and turning + and a hundred intricate manoeuvres, accompanied by entreaties and + remonstrances and objurgations, addressed to the occupants of surrounding + vehicles, he managed to extricate the buckboard from the press; and once + free, the team went down the road toward Main Street at a lively gait. The + judge's call to the colts rang out cheerily; his handsome face was one + broad smile. “This is a big day for Carlow,” he said; “I don't remember a + better day's work in twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell him about Mr. Halloway?” asked Helen, leaning forward + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Warren told him before we left the car,” answered Briscoe. “He'd have + declined on the spot, I expect, if we hadn't made him sure it was all + right with Kedge.” + </p> + <p> + “If I understood what Mr. Smith was saying, Halloway must have behaved + very well,” said Meredith. + </p> + <p> + The judge laughed. “He saw it was the only way to beat McCune, and he'd + have given his life and Harkless's, too, rather than let McCune have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you stay with him, Tom?” asked Helen. + </p> + <p> + “With Halloway? I don't know him.” + </p> + <p> + “One forgives a generous hilarity anything, even such quips as that,” she + retorted. “Why did you not stay with Mr. Harkless?” + </p> + <p> + “That's very hospitable of you,” laughed the young man. “You forget that I + have the felicity to sit at your side. Judge Briscoe has been kind enough + to ask me to review the procession from his buckboard and to sup at his + house with other distinguished visitors, and I have accepted.” + </p> + <p> + “But didn't he wish you to remain with him?” + </p> + <p> + “But this second I had the honor to inform you that I am here distinctly + by his invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>His</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, his. Judge Briscoe, Miss Sherwood will not believe that you + desire my presence. If I intrude, pray let me—” He made as if to + spring from the buckboard, and the girl seized his arm impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “You are a pitiful nonsense-monger!” she cried; and for some reason this + speech made him turn his glasses upon her gravely. Her lashes fell before + his gaze, and at that he took her hand and kissed it quickly. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she faltered. “You must not think it. It isn't—you see, I—there + is nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not dull the edge of my hilarity,” he answered, “especially + since so much may be forgiven it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave Mr. Harkless?” she asked, without raising her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” he replied, “because, for some inexplicable reason, my + lady cousin has not nominated me for Congress, but instead has chosen to + bestow that distinction upon another, and, I may say, an unworthier and + unfitter man than I. And, oddly enough, the non-discriminating multitude + were not cheering for me; the artillery was not in action to celebrate me; + the band was not playing to do me honor; therefore why should I ride in + the midst of a procession that knows me not? Why should I enthrone me in + an open barouche—a little faded and possibly not quite secure as to + its springs, but still a barouche—with four white horses to draw it, + and draped with silken flags, both barouche and steeds? Since these things + were not for me, I flew to your side to dissemble my spleen under the + licensed prattle of a cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Then who <i>is</i> with him?” + </p> + <p> + “The population of this portion of our State, I take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's all right,” said the judge, leaning back to speak to Helen. + “Keating and Smith and your father are to ride in the carriage with him. + You needn't be afraid of any of them letting him know that H. Fisbee is a + lady. Everybody understands about that; of course they know it's to be + left to you to break it to him how well a girl has run his paper.” The old + gentleman chuckled, and looked out of the corner of his eye at his + daughter, whose expression was inscrutable. + </p> + <p> + “I!” cried Helen. “<i>I</i> tell him! No one must tell him. He need never + know it.” + </p> + <p> + Briscoe reached back and patted her cheek. “How long do you suppose he + will be here in Plattville without it's leaking out?” + </p> + <p> + “But they kept guard over him for months and nobody told him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Briscoe, “but this is different.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” she exclaimed. “It <i>must</i> be kept from him somehow!” + </p> + <p> + “He'll know it by to-morrow, so you'd better tell him this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “This evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You'll have a good chance.” + </p> + <p> + “I will?” + </p> + <p> + “He's coming to supper with us. He and your father, of course, and Keating + and Bence and Boswell and Smith and Tom Martin and Lige. We're going to + have a big time, with you and Minnie to do the honors; and we're all + coming into town afterwards for the fireworks; I'll let him drive you in + the phaeton. You'll have plenty of time to talk it over with him and tell + him all about it.” + </p> + <p> + Helen gave a little gasp. “Never!” she cried. “Never!” + </p> + <p> + The buckboard stopped on the “Herald” corner, and here, and along Main + Street, the line of vehicles which had followed it from the station took + their places. The Square was almost a solid mass of bunting, and the north + entrance of the court-house had been decorated with streamers and flags, + so as to make it a sort of stand. Hither the crowd was already streaming, + and hither the procession made its way. At intervals the cannon boomed, + and Schofields' Henry was winnowing the air with his bell; nobody had a + better time that day than Schofields' Henry, except old Wilkerson, who was + with the procession. + </p> + <p> + In advance, came the boys, whooping and somersaulting, and behind them, + rode a band of mounted men, sitting their horses like cavalrymen, led by + the sheriff and his deputy and Jim Bardlock; then followed the Harkless + Club of Amo, led by Boswell, with the magnanimous Halloway himself + marching in the ranks; and at sight of this the people shouted like + madmen. But when Helen's eye fell upon his fat, rather unhappy face, she + felt a pang of pity and unreasoning remorse, which warned her that he who + looks upon politics when it is red must steel his eyes to see many a man + with the heart-burn. After the men of Amo, came the Harkless Club of + Gainesville, Mr. Bence in the van with the step of a grenadier. There + followed next, Mr. Ephraim Watts, bearing a light wand in his hand and + leading a detachment of workers from the oil-fields in their stained blue + overalls and blouses; and, after them, came Mr. Martin and Mr. Landis at + the head of an organization recognized in the “Order of Procession,” + printed in the “Herald,” as the Business Men of Plattville. They played in + such magnificent time that every high-stepping foot in all the line came + down with the same jubilant plunk, and lifted again with a unanimity as + complete as that of the last vote the convention had taken that day. The + leaders of the procession set a brisk pace, and who could have set any + other kind of a pace when on parade to the strains of such a band, playing + such a tune as “A New Coon in Town,” with all its might and main? + </p> + <p> + But as the line swung into the Square, there came a moment when the tune + was ended, the musicians paused for breath, and there fell comparative + quiet. Amongst the ranks of Business Men ambled Mr. Wilkerson, singing at + the top of his voice, and now he could be heard distinctly enough for + those near to him to distinguish the melody with which it was his + intention to favor the public: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + As we go marching on.” + </pre> + <p> + The words, the air, that husky voice, recalled to the men of Carlow + another day and another procession, not like this one. And the song + Wilkerson was singing is the one song every Northern-born American knows + and can sing. The leader of the band caught the sound, signalled to his + men; twenty instruments rose as one to twenty mouths; the snare-drum + rattled, the big drum crashed, the leader lifted his baton high over his + head, and music burst from twenty brazen throats: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!” + </pre> + <p> + Instantaneously, the whole procession began to sing the refrain, and the + people in the street, and those in the wagons and carriages, and those + leaning from the windows joined with one accord, the ringing bells caught + the time of the song, and the upper air reverberated in the rhythm. + </p> + <p> + The Harkless Club of Carlow wheeled into Main Street, two hundred strong, + with their banners and transparencies. Lige Willetts rode at their head, + and behind him strode young William Todd and Parker and Ross Schofield and + Homer Tibbs and Hartley Bowlder, and even Bud Tipworthy held a place in + the ranks through his connection with the “Herald.” They were all singing. + </p> + <p> + And, behind them, Helen saw the flag-covered barouche and her father, and + beside him sat John Harkless with his head bared. + </p> + <p> + She glanced at Briscoe; he was standing on the front seat with Minnie + beside him, and both were singing. Meredith had climbed upon the back seat + and was nervously fumbling at a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Sing, Tom!” the girl cried to him excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “I should be ashamed not to,” he answered; and dropped the cigarette and + began to sing “John Brown's Body” with all his strength. With that she + seized his hand, sprang up beside him, and over the swelling chorus her + full soprano rose, lifted with all the power in her. + </p> + <p> + The barouche rolled into the Square, and, as it passed, Harkless turned, + and bent a sudden gaze upon the group in the buckboard; but the western + sun was in his eyes, and he only caught a glimpse of a vague, bright shape + and a dazzle of gold, and he was borne along and out of view, down the + singing street. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + As we go marching on!” + </pre> + <p> + The barouche stopped in front of the courthouse, and he passed up a lane + they made for him to the steps. When he turned to them to speak, they + began to cheer again, and he had to wait for them to quiet down. + </p> + <p> + “We can't hear him from over here,” said Briscoe, “we're too far off. Mr. + Meredith, suppose you take the ladies closer in, and I'll stay with the + horses. You want to hear his speech.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a great man, isn't he?” Meredith said to Helen, gravely, as he + handed her out of the buckboard. “I've been trying to realize for the last + few minutes, that he is the same old fellow I've been treating so + familiarly all day long.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is a great man,” she answered. “This is only the beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “That's true,” said Briscoe, who had overheard her. “He'll go pretty far. + A man that people know is steady and strong and level-headed can get + whatever he wants, because a public man can get anything, if people know + he's safe and honest and they can rely on him for <i>sense</i>. It sounds + like a simple matter; but only three or four public men in the country + have convinced us that they are like that. Hurry along, young people.” + </p> + <p> + Crossing the street, they met Miss Tibbs; she was wiping her streaming + eyes with the back of her left hand and still mechanically waving her + handkerchief with her right. “Isn't it beautiful?” she said, not ceasing + to flutter, unconsciously, the little square of cambric. “There was such a + throng that I grew faint and had to come away. I don't mind your seeing me + crying. Pretty near everybody cried when he walked up to the steps and we + saw that he was lame.” + </p> + <p> + Standing on the outskirts of the crowd, they could hear the mellow ring of + Harkless's voice, but only fragments of the speech, for it was rather + halting, and was not altogether clear in either rhetoric or delivery; and + Mr. Bence could have been a good deal longer in saying what he had to say, + and a thousand times more oratorical. Nevertheless, there was not a man or + woman present who did not declare that it was the greatest speech ever + heard in Plattville; and they really thought so—to such lengths are + loyalty and friendship sometimes carried in Carlow and Amo and Gaines. + </p> + <p> + He looked down upon the attentive, earnest faces and into the kindly eyes + of the Hoosier country people, and, as he spoke, the thought kept + recurring to him that this was the place he had dreaded to come back to; + that these were the people he had wished to leave—these, who gave + him everything they had to give—and this made it difficult to keep + his tones steady and his throat clear. + </p> + <p> + Helen stood so far from the steps (nor could she be induced to penetrate + further, though they would have made way for her) that only fragments + reached her, but what she heard she remembered: + </p> + <p> + “I have come home... Ordinarily a man needs to fall sick by the wayside or + to be set upon by thieves, in order to realize that nine-tenths of the + world is Samaritan, and the other tenth only too busy or too ignorant to + be. Down here he realizes it with no necessity of illness or wounds to + bring it out; and if he does get hurt, you send him to Congress.... There + will be no other in Washington so proud of what he stands for as I shall + be. To represent you is to stand for realities—fearlessness, honor, + kindness.... We are people who take what comes to us, and it comes + bountifully; we are rich—oh, we are all Americans here!... This is + the place for a man who likes to live where people are kind to one + another, and where they have the old-fashioned way of saying 'Home.' Other + places, they don't seem to get so much into it as we do. And to come home + as I have to-day.... I have come home....” + </p> + <p> + Every one meant to shake hands with him, and, when the speech was over, + those nearest swooped upon him, cheering and waving, and grasping at his + hand. Then a line was formed, and they began to defile by him, as he stood + on the steps, and one by one they came up, and gave him hearty greetings, + and passed on through the court-house and out at the south door. Tom + Meredith and Minnie Briscoe came amongst the others, and Tom said only, + “Good old boy,” as he squeezed his friend's hand; and then, as he went + down the hall, wiping his glasses, he asked Minnie if she believed the + young man on the steps had risen from a sick bed that morning. + </p> + <p> + It was five-o'clock when Harkless climbed the stairs to the “Herald” + office, and his right arm and hand were aching and limp. Below him, as he + reached the landing, he could see boys selling extras containing his + speech (taken by the new reporter), and long accounts of the convention, + of the nominee's career, and the celebration of his home-coming. The sales + were rapid; for no one could resist the opportunity to read in print + descriptions of what his eyes had beheld and his ears had heard that day. + </p> + <p> + Ross Schofield was the only person in the editorial room, and there was + nothing in his appearance which should cause a man to start and fall back + from the doorway; but that was what Harkless did. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Mr. Harkless?” cried Ross, hurrying forward, fearing + that the other had been suddenly reseized by illness. + </p> + <p> + “What are those?” asked Harkless, with a gesture of his hand which seemed + to include the entire room. + </p> + <p> + “Those!” repeated Ross, staring blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Those rosettes—these streamers—that stovepipe—all this + blue ribbon.” + </p> + <p> + Ross turned pale. “Ribbon?” he said, inquiringly. “Ribbon?” He seemed + unable to perceive the decorations referred to. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered John; “these rosettes on the chairs, that band, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Ross exclaimed. “That?” He fingered the band on the stovepipe as if + he saw it for the first time. “Yes; I see.” + </p> + <p> + “But what are they for?” asked Harkless, touching one of the streamers + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Why—it's—it's likely meant for decorations.” + </p> + <p> + John picked up the ink-well, staring in complete amazement at the hard + knot of ribbon with which it was garnished. + </p> + <p> + “They seem to have been here some time.” + </p> + <p> + “They have; I reckon they're almost due to be called in. They've be'n up + ever sence—sence——” + </p> + <p> + “Who put them up, Ross?” + </p> + <p> + “We did.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + Ross was visibly embarrassed. “Why—fer—fer the other editor.” + </p> + <p> + “For Mr. Fisbee?” + </p> + <p> + “Land, no! You don't suppose we'd go to work and bother to brisken things + up fer that old gentleman, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I meant young Mr. Fisbee—he is the other editor, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Ross, coughing. “Young Mr. Fisbee? Yes; we put 'em up fer him.” + </p> + <p> + “You did! Did he appreciate them?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—he seemed to—kind of like 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he now? I came here to find him.” + </p> + <p> + “He's gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone? Hasn't he been here this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; some 'the time. Come in and stayed durin' the leevy you was holdin', + and saw the extra off all right.” + </p> + <p> + “When will he be back?” + </p> + <p> + “Sence it's be'n a daily he gits here by eight, after supper, but don't + stay very late; the new man and old Mr. Fisbee and Parker look after + whatever comes in late, unless it's something special. He'll likely be + here by half-past eight at the farthest off.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't wait till then.” John took a quick turn about the room. “I've + been wanting to see him every minute since I got in,” he said impatiently, + “and he hasn't been near me. Nobody could even point him out to me. Where + has he gone? I want to see him <i>now</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Want to discharge him again?” said a voice from the door, and turning, + they saw that Mr. Martin stood there observing them. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Harkless; “I want to give him the 'Herald.' Do you know where + he is?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Martin stroked his beard deliberately. “The person you speak of hadn't + ort to be very hard to find—in Carlow. The committee was reckless + enough to hire that carriage of yours by the day, and Keating and Warren + Smith are setting in it up at the corner, with their feet on the cushions + to show they're used to ridin' around with four white horses every day in + the week. It's waitin' till you're ready to go out to Briscoe's. It's an + hour before supper time, and you can talk to young Fisbee all you want. + He's out there.” + </p> + <p> + As they drove along the pike, Harkless's three companions kept up a + conversation sprightly beyond the mere exhilaration of the victorious; but + John sat almost silent, and, in spite of their liveliness, the others eyed + him a little anxiously now and then, knowing that he had been living on + excitement through a physically exhausting day, and they were fearful lest + his nerves react and bring him to a breakdown. But the healthy flush of + his cheek was reassuring; he looked steady and strong, and they were + pleased to believe that the stirring-up was what he needed. + </p> + <p> + It had been a strange and beautiful day to him, begun in anger, but the + sun was not to go down upon his wrath; for his choleric intention had + almost vanished on his homeward way, and the first words Smith had spoken + had lifted the veil of young Fisbee's duplicity, had shown him with what + fine intelligence and supreme delicacy and sympathy young Fisbee had + worked for him, had understood him, and had <i>made</i> him. If the open + assault on McCune had been pressed, and the damnatory evidence published + in Harkless's own paper, while Harkless himself was a candidate and rival, + John would have felt dishonored. The McCune papers could have been used + for Halloway's benefit, but not for his own; he would not ride to success + on another man's ruin; and young Fisbee had understood and had saved him. + It was a point of honor that many would have held finicky and + inconsistent, but one which young Fisbee had comprehended was vital to + Harkless. + </p> + <p> + And this was the man he had discharged like a dishonest servant; the man + who had thrown what was (in Carlow's eyes) riches into his lap; the man + who had made his paper, and who had made him, and saved him. Harkless + wanted to see young Fisbee as he longed to see only one other person in + the world. Two singular things had happened that day which made his + craving to see Helen almost unbearable—just to rest his eyes upon + her for a little while, he could ask no more. And as they passed along + that well-remembered road, every tree, every leaf by the wayside, it + seemed, spoke to him and called upon the dear memory of his two walks with + her—into town and out of town, on show-day. He wondered if his heart + was to project a wraith of her before him whenever he was deeply moved, + for the rest of his life. For twice to-day he had seen her whom he knew to + be so far away. She had gone back to her friends in the north, Tom had + said. Twice that afternoon he had been momentarily, but vividly, conscious + of her as a living presence. As he descended from the car at the station, + his eyes, wandering out over the tumultuous crowd, had caught and held a + picture for a second—a graceful arm upraised, and a gloved hand + pressed against a blushing cheek under a hat such as is not worn in + Carlow; a little figure poised apparently in air, full-length above the + crowd about her; so, for the merest flick of time he had seen her, and + then, to his straining eyes, it was as though she were not. She had + vanished. And again, as his carriage reached the Square, a feeling had + come to him that she was near him; that she was looking at him; that he + should see her when the carriage turned; and in the same instant, above + the singing of a multitude, he heard her voice as if there had been no + other and once more his dazzled eyes beheld her for a second; she was + singing, and as she sang she leaned toward him from on high with the most + ineffable look of tenderness and pride and affection he had ever seen on a + woman's face; such a look, he thought, as she would wear if she came to + love some archangel (her love should be no less) with all of her heart and + soul and strength. And so he knew he had seen a vision. But it was a cruel + one to visit a man who loved her. He had summoned his philosophy and his + courage in his interview with himself on the way to Carlow, and they had + answered; but nothing could answer if his eyes were to play him tricks and + bring her visibly before him, and with such an expression as he had seen + upon her face. It was too real. It made his eyes yearn for the sight of + her with an ache that was physical. And even at that moment, he saw, far + ahead of them on the road, two figures standing in front of the brick + house. One was unmistakable at any distance. It was that of old Fisbee; + and the other was a girl's: a light, small figure without a hat, and the + low, western sun dwelt on a head that shone with gold. Harkless put his + hand over his eyes with a pain that was like the taste of hemlock in + nectar. + </p> + <p> + “Sun in your eyes?” asked Keating, lifting his hat, so as to shield the + other's face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + When he looked again, both figures were gone. He made up his mind that he + would think of the only other person who could absorb his attention, at + least for a time; very soon he would stand face to face with the six feet + of brawn and intelligence and manhood that was young Fisbee. + </p> + <p> + “You are sure he is there?” he asked Tom Martin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Martin, with no need to inquire whom the editor meant. “I + reckon,” he continued, solemnly, peering at the other from under his rusty + hat-brim, “I reckon when you see him, maybe you'll want to put a kind of + codicil to that deed to the 'Herald.'” + </p> + <p> + “How's that, Martin?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I guess maybe you'll—well, wait till you see him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to wait much longer, when I remember what I owe him and how + I have used him, and that I have been here nearly three hours without + seeing him.” + </p> + <p> + As they neared the brick house Harkless made out, through the trees, a + retreative flutter of skirts on the porch, and the thought crossed his + mind that Minnie had flown indoors to give some final directions toward + the preparation of the banquet; but when the barouche halted at the gate, + he was surprised to see her waving to him from the steps, while Tom + Meredith and Mr. Bence and Mr. Boswell formed a little court around her. + Lige Willetts rode up on horse back at the same moment, and the judge was + waiting in front of the gate. Harkless stepped out of the barouche and + took his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I was told young Fisbee was here.” + </p> + <p> + “Young Fisbee is here,” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Where, please, Briscoe?” + </p> + <p> + “Want to see him right off?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, very much.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll withdraw his discharge, I expect, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the other. “I want to make him a present of the 'Herald,' + if he'll take it.” He fumed to Meredith, who had come to the gate. “Tom, + where is he?” + </p> + <p> + Meredith put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and answered: “I don't + know. God bless you, old fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is,” said the judge, as they entered the gate, “that when you + drove up, young Fisbee ran into the house. Minnie—” He turned, but + his daughter had disappeared; however, she came to the door, a moment + later, and shook her head mysteriously at her father. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the house,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fisbee came around the corner of the porch and went toward Harkless. + “Fisbee,” cried the latter, “where is your nephew?” + </p> + <p> + The old man took his hand in both his own, and looked him between the + eyes, and thus stood, while there was a long pause, the others watching + them. + </p> + <p> + “You must not say that I told you,” he said at last. “Go into the garden.” + </p> + <p> + But when Harkless's step crunched the garden path there was no one there. + Asters were blooming in beds between the green rose-bushes, and their + many-fingered hands were flung open in wide surprise that he should expect + to find young Fisbee there. It was just before sunset. Birds were + gossiping in the sycamores on the bank. At the foot of the garden, near + the creek, there were some tall hydrangea bushes, flower-laden, and, + beyond them, one broad shaft of the sun smote the creek bends for a mile + in that flat land, and crossed the garden like a bright, taut-drawn veil. + Harkless passed the bushes and stepped out into this gold brilliance. Then + he uttered a cry and stopped. + </p> + <p> + Helen was standing beside the hydrangeas, with both hands against her + cheeks and her eyes fixed on the ground. She had run away as far as she + could run; there were high fences extending down to the creek on each + side, and the water was beyond. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i>!” he said. “<i>You—you</i>!” + </p> + <p> + She did not lift her eyes, but began to move away from him with little + backward steps. When she reached the bench on the bank, she spoke with a + quick intake of breath and in a voice he scarcely heard. It was the merest + whisper, and her words came so slowly that sometimes minutes separated + them. + </p> + <p> + “Can you—will you keep me—on the 'Herald'?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep you——” + </p> + <p> + “Will you—let me—help?” + </p> + <p> + He came near her. “I don't understand. Is it you—you—who are + here again?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you—forgiven me? You know now why I wouldn't—resign? You + forgive my—that telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “What telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “That one that came to you—this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Your</i> telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you send me one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It did not come to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—it did.” + </p> + <p> + “But there—What was it about?” + </p> + <p> + “It was signed,” she said, “it was signed—” She paused and turned + half way, not lifting the downcast lashes; her hand, laid upon the arm of + the bench, was shaking; she put it behind her. Then her eyes were lifted a + little, and, though they did not meet his, he saw them, and a strange, + frightened glory leaped in his heart. Her voice fell still lower and two + heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. “It was signed,” she whispered, “it + was signed—'H. Fisbee.'” + </p> + <p> + He began to tremble from head to foot. There was a long silence. She had + turned quite away from him. When he spoke, his voice was as low as hers, + and he spoke as slowly as she had. + </p> + <p> + “You mean—then—it was—you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have been here all the time?” + </p> + <p> + “All—all except the week you were—hurt, and that—that + one evening.” + </p> + <p> + The bright veil which wrapped them was drawn away, and they stood in the + silent, gathering dusk. + </p> + <p> + He tried to loosen his neck-band; it seemed to be choking him. “I—I + can't—I don't comprehend it. I am trying to realize what it——” + </p> + <p> + “It means nothing,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “There was an editorial, yesterday,” he said, “an editorial that I thought + was about Rodney McCune. Did you write it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It was about—me—wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It said—it said—that I had won the love of every person in + Carlow County.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she found her voice. “Do not misunderstand me,” she said rapidly. + “I have done the little that I have done out of gratitude.” She faced him + now, but without meeting his eyes. “I told you, remember, that you would + understand some day what I meant by that, and the day has come. I owed you + more gratitude than a woman ever owed a man before, I think, and I would + have died to pay a part of it. I set every gossip's tongue in Rouen + clacking at the very start, in the merest amateurish preparation for the + work Mr. Macauley gave me. That was nothing. And the rest has been the + happiest time in my life. I have only pleased myself, after all!” + </p> + <p> + “What gratitude did you owe me?” + </p> + <p> + “What gratitude? For what you did for my father.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only seen your father once in my life—at your table at the + dance supper, that night.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen. My father is a gentle old man with white hair and kind eyes. You + saw my uncle, that night; he has been as good to me as a father, since I + was seven years old, and he gave me his name by law and I lived with him. + My father came to see me once a year; I never came to see him. He always + told me everything was well with him; that his life was happy. Once he + lost the little he had left to him in the world, his only way of making + his living. He had no friends; he was hungry and desperate, and he + wandered. I was dancing and going about wearing jewels—only—I + did not know. All the time the brave heart wrote me happy letters. I + should have known, for there was one who did, and who saved him. When at + last I came to see my father, he told me. He had written of his idol + before; but it was not till I came that he told it all to me. Do you know + what I felt? While his daughter was dancing cotillions, a stranger had + taken his hand—and—” A sob rose in her throat and checked her + utterance for a moment; but she threw up her head and met his eyes + proudly. “Gratitude, Mr. Harkless!” she cried. “I am James Fisbee's + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + He fell back from the bench with a sharp exclamation, and stared at her + through the gray twilight. She went on hurriedly, again not looking at + him: + </p> + <p> + “When you showed me that you cared for me—when you told me that you + did—I—do you think I wanted to care for you? I wanted to do + something to show you that I could be ashamed of my vile neglect of him—something + to show you his daughter could be grateful. If I had loved you, what I did + would have been for that—and I could not have done it. And how could + I have shown my gratitude if I had done it for love? And it has been such + dear, happy work, the little I have done, that it seems, after all, that I + have done it for love of myself. But—but when you first told me—” + She broke off with a strange, fluttering, half inarticulate little laugh + that was half tears; and then resumed in another tone: “When you told me + you cared that night—that night we were here—how could I be + sure? It had been only two days, you see, and even if I could have been + sure of myself, why, I couldn't have told you. Oh! I had so brazenly + thrown myself at your head, time and again, those two days, in my—my + worship of your goodness to my father and my excitement in recognizing in + his friend the hero of my girlhood, that you had every right to think I + cared; but if—but if I had—if I had—loved you with my + whole soul, I could not have—why, no woman could have—I mean + the sort of girl I am couldn't have admitted it—must have denied it. + And what I was trying to do for you when we met in Rouen was—was + courting you. You surely see I couldn't have done it if I had cared. It + would have been brazen! And do you think that then I could have answered—'Yes'—even + if I wanted to—even if I had been sure of myself? And now—” + Her voice sank again to a whisper. “And now——” + </p> + <p> + From the meadows across the creek, and over the fields, came a far + tinkling of farm-bells. Three months ago, at this hour, John Harkless had + listened to that sound, and its great lonesomeness had touched his heart + like a cold hand; but now, as the mists were rising from the water and the + small stars pierced the sky one by one, glinting down through the dim, + immeasurable blue distances, he found no loneliness in heaven or earth. He + leaned forward toward her; the bench was between them. The last light was + gone; evening had fallen. + </p> + <p> + “And now—” he said. + </p> + <p> + She moved backward as he leaned nearer. + </p> + <p> + “You promised to remember on the day you understood,” she answered, a + little huskily, “that it was all from the purest gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “And—and there is nothing else?” + </p> + <p> + “If there were,” she said, and her voice grew more and more unsteady, “if + there were, can't you see that what I have done—” She stopped, and + then, suddenly, “Ah, it would have been <i>brazen</i>!” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at the little stars and he heard the bells, and they struck + into his heart like a dirge. He made a singular gesture of abnegation, and + then dropped upon the bench with his head bowed between his hands. + </p> + <p> + She pressed her hand to her bosom, watching him in a startled fashion, her + eyes wide and her lips parted. She took a few quick, short steps toward + the garden, still watching him over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't worry,” he said, not lifting his bent head, “I know you're + sorry. I'll be all right in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a hurried glance from right to left and from left to right, like + one in terror seeking a way of escape; she gathered her skirts in her + hand, as if to run into the garden; but suddenly she turned and ran to him—ran + to him swiftly, with her great love shining from her eyes. She sank upon + her knees beside him. She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him on + the forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, don't you see?” she whispered, “don't you see—don't + you see?” + </p> + <p> + When they heard the judge calling from the orchard, they went back through + the garden toward the house. It was dark; the whitest asters were but gray + splotches. There was no one in the orchard; Briscoe had gone indoors. “Did + you know you are to drive me into town in the phaeton for the fireworks?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Fireworks?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the Great Harkless has come home.” + </p> + <p> + Even in the darkness he could see the look the vision had given him when + the barouche turned into the Square. She smiled upon him and said, “All + afternoon I was wishing I could have been your mother.” + </p> + <p> + He clasped her hand more tightly. “This wonderful world!” he cried. + “Yesterday I had a doctor—a doctor to cure me of love-sickness!” + </p> + <p> + They went on a little way. “We must hurry,” she said. “I am sure they have + been waiting for us.” This was true; they had. + </p> + <p> + From the dining-room came laughter and hearty voices, and the windows were + bright with the light of many lamps. By and by, they stood just outside + the patch of light that fell from one of the windows. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” said Helen. “Aren't they good, dear people?” + </p> + <p> + “The beautiful people!” he answered. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Gentleman From Indiana, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA *** + +***** This file should be named 9659-h.htm or 9659-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/6/5/9659/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Gentleman From Indiana + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Release Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9659] +Posting Date: June 16, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + + + + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA + + +By Booth Tarkington + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. THE YOUNG MAN WHO CAME TO STAY + II. THE STRANGE LADY + III. LONESOMENESS + IV. THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER + V. AT THE PASTURE BARS: ELDER-BUSHES MAY HAVE STINGS + VI. JUNE + VII. MORNING: "SOME IN RAGS AND SOME IN TAGS AND SOME IN VELVET GOWNS" + VIII. GLAD AFTERNOON: THE GIRL BY THE BLUE TENT POLE + IX. NIGHT: IT IS BAD LUCK TO SING BEFORE BREAKFAST + X. THE COURT-HOUSE BELL + XI. JOHN BROWN'S BODY + XII. JERRY THE TELLER + XIII. JAMES FISBEE + XIV. A RESCUE + XV. NETTLES + XVI. PRETTY MARQUISE + XVII. HELEN'S TOAST + XVIII. THE TREACHERY OF H. FISBEE + XIX. THE GREAT HARKLESS COMES HOME + + + + +CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG MAN WHO CAME TO STAY + +There is a fertile stretch of flat lands in Indiana where unagrarian +Eastern travellers, glancing from car-windows, shudder and return their +eyes to interior upholstery, preferring even the swaying caparisons of a +Pullman to the monotony without. The landscape lies interminably level: +bleak in winter, a desolate plain of mud and snow; hot and dusty in +summer, in its flat lonesomeness, miles on miles with not one cool hill +slope away from the sun. The persistent tourist who seeks for signs of +man in this sad expanse perceives a reckless amount of rail fence; at +intervals a large barn; and, here and there, man himself, incurious, +patient, slow, looking up from the fields apathetically as the Limited +flies by. Widely separated from each other are small frame railway +stations--sometimes with no other building in sight, which indicates +that somewhere behind the adjacent woods a few shanties and thin +cottages are grouped about a couple of brick stores. + +On the station platforms there are always two or three wooden +packing-boxes, apparently marked for travel, but they are sacred from +disturbance and remain on the platform forever; possibly the right train +never comes along. They serve to enthrone a few station loafers, who +look out from under their hat-brims at the faces in the car-windows with +the languid scorn a permanent fixture always has for a transient, and +the pity an American feels for a fellow-being who does not live in his +town. Now and then the train passes a town built scatteringly about +a court-house, with a mill or two humming near the tracks. This is +a county-seat, and the inhabitants and the local papers refer to it +confidently as "our city." The heart of the flat lands is a central area +called Carlow County, and the county-seat of Carlow is a town unhappily +named in honor of its first settler, William Platt, who christened it +with his blood. Natives of this place have sometimes remarked, easily, +that their city had a population of from five to six thousand souls. It +is easy to forgive them for such statements; civic pride is a virtue. + +The social and business energy of Plattville concentrates on the Square. +Here, in summer-time, the gentlemen are wont to lounge from store +to store in their shirt sleeves; and here stood the old, red-brick +court-house, loosely fenced in a shady grove of maple and elm--"slipp'ry +ellum"--called the "Court-House Yard." When the sun grew too hot for the +dry-goods box whittlers in front of the stores around the Square and the +occupants of the chairs in front of the Palace Hotel on the corner, they +would go across and drape themselves over the court-house fence, under +the trees, and leisurely carve there initials on the top board. The +farmers hitched their teams to the fence, for there were usually loafers +energetic enough to shout "Whoa!" if the flies worried the horses +beyond patience. In the yard, amongst the weeds and tall, unkept grass, +chickens foraged all day long; the fence was so low that the most +matronly hen flew over with propriety; and there were gaps that +accommodated the passage of itinerant pigs. Most of the latter, however, +preferred the cool wallows of the less important street corners. Here +and there a big dog lay asleep in the middle of the road, knowing well +that the easy-going Samaritan, in his case, would pass by on the other +side. + +Only one street attained to the dignity of a name--Main Street, which +formed the north side of the Square. In Carlow County, descriptive +location is usually accomplished by designating the adjacent, as, "Up at +Bardlocks'," "Down by Schofields'," "Right where Hibbards live," "Acrost +from Sol. Tibbs's," or, "Other side of Jones's field." In winter, Main +Street was a series of frozen gorges land hummocks; in fall and spring, +a river of mud; in summer, a continuing dust heap; it was the best +street in Plattville. + +The people lived happily; and, while the world whirled on outside, they +were content with their own. It would have moved their surprise as +much as their indignation to hear themselves spoken of as a "secluded +community"; for they sat up all night to hear the vote of New York, +every campaign. Once when the President visited Rouen, seventy miles +away, there were only few bankrupts (and not a baby amongst them) left +in the deserted homes of Carlow County. Everybody had adventures; almost +everybody saw the great man; and everybody was glad to get back home +again. It was the longest journey some of them ever set upon, and these, +elated as they were over their travels, determined to think twice ere +they went that far from home another time. + +On Saturdays, the farmers enlivened the commercial atmosphere of +Plattville; and Miss Tibbs, the postmaster's sister and clerk, used to +make a point of walking up and down Main Street as often as possible, +to get a thrill in the realization of some poetical expressions that +haunted her pleasingly; phrases she had employed frequently in her poems +for the "Carlow County Herald." When thirty or forty country people were +scattered along the sidewalks in front of the stores on Main Street, she +would walk at nicely calculated angles to the different groups so as to +leave as few gaps as possible between the figures, making them appear +as near a solid phalanx as she could. Then she would murmur to herself, +with the accent of soulful revel, "The thronged city streets," and, +"Within the thronged city," or, "Where the thronging crowds were +swarming and the great cathedral rose." Although she had never been +beyond Carlow and the bordering counties in her life, all her poems were +of city streets and bustling multitudes. She was one of those who had +been unable to join the excursion to Rouen when the President was there; +but she had listened avidly to her friends' descriptions of the crowds. +Before that time her muse had been sylvan, speaking of "Flow'rs of May," +and hinting at thoughts that overcame her when she roved the woodlands +thro'; but now the inspiration was become decidedly municipal and +urban, evidently reluctant to depart beyond the retail portions of a +metropolis. Her verses beginning, "O, my native city, bride of Hibbard's +winding stream,"--Hibbard's Creek runs west of Plattville, except in +time of drought--"When thy myriad lights are shining, and thy faces, +like a dream, Go flitting down thy sidewalks when their daily toil is +done," were pronounced, at the time of their publication, the best poem +that had ever appeared in the "Herald." + +This unlucky newspaper was a thorn in the side of every patriot of +Carlow County. It was a poor paper; everybody knew it was a poor paper; +it was so poor that everybody admitted it was a poor paper--worse, the +neighboring county of Amo possessed a better paper, the "Amo Gazette." +The "Carlow County Herald" was so everlastingly bad that Plattville +people bent their heads bitterly and admitted even to citizens of Amo +that the "Gazette" was the better paper. The "Herald" was a weekly, +issued on Saturday; sometimes it hung fire over Sunday and appeared +Monday evening. In their pride, the Carlow people supported the "Herald" +loyally and long; but finally subscriptions began to fall off and the +"Gazette" gained them. It came to pass that the "Herald" missed fire +altogether for several weeks; then it came out feebly, two small +advertisements occupying the whole of the fourth page. It was breathing +its last. The editor was a clay-colored gentleman with a goatee, whose +one surreptitious eye betokened both indolence of disposition and +a certain furtive shrewdness. He collected all the outstanding +subscriptions he could, on the morning of the issue just mentioned, and, +thoughtfully neglecting several items on the other side of the ledger, +departed from Plattville forever. + +The same afternoon a young man from the East alighted on the platform +of the railway station, north of the town, and, entering the rickety +omnibus that lingered there, seeking whom it might rattle to deafness, +demanded to be driven to the Herald Building. It did not strike the +driver that the newcomer was precisely a gay young man when he climbed +into the omnibus; but, an hour later, as he stood in the doorway of the +edifice he had indicated as his destination, depression seemed to have +settled into the marrow of his bones. Plattville was instantly alert to +the stranger's presence, and interesting conjectures were hazarded all +day long at the back door of Martin's Dry-Goods Emporium, where all the +clerks from the stores around the Square came to play checkers or look +on at the game. (This was the club during the day; in the evening the +club and the game removed to the drug, book, and wall-paper store on +the corner.) At supper, the new arrival and his probable purposes were +discussed over every table in the town. Upon inquiry, he had informed +Judd Bennett, the driver of the omnibus, that he had come to stay. +Naturally, such a declaration caused a sensation, as people did not come +to Plattville to live, except through the inadvertency of being born +there. In addition, the young man's appearance and attire were reported +to be extraordinary. Many of the curious, among them most of the +marriageable females of the place, took occasion to pass and repass the +sign of the "Carlow County Herald" during the evening. + +Meanwhile, the stranger was seated in the dingy office upstairs with +his head bowed low on his arms. Twilight stole through the dirty +window-panes and faded into darkness. Night filled the room. He did not +move. The young man from the East had bought the "Herald" from an +agent; had bought it without ever having been within a hundred miles of +Plattville. He had vastly overpaid for it. Moreover, the price he had +paid for it was all the money he had in the world. + +The next morning he went bitterly to work. He hired a compositor from +Rouen, a young man named Parker, who set type all night long and helped +him pursue advertisements all day. The citizens shook their heads +pessimistically. They had about given up the idea that the "Herald" +could ever amount to anything, and they betrayed an innocent, but +caustic, doubt of ability in any stranger. + +One day the new editor left a note on his door; "Will return in fifteen +minutes." + +Mr. Rodney McCune, a politician from the neighboring county of Gaines, +happening to be in Plattville on an errand to his henchmen, found the +note, and wrote beneath the message the scathing inquiry, "Why?" + +When he discovered this addendum, the editor smiled for the first time +since his advent, and reported the incident in his next issue, using the +rubric, "Why Has the 'Herald' Returned to Life?" as a text for a rousing +editorial on "honesty in politics," a subject of which he already knew +something. The political district to which Carlow belonged was governed +by a limited number of gentlemen whose wealth was ever on the increase; +and "honesty in politics" was a startling conception to the minds of the +passive and resigned voters, who discussed the editorial on the street +corners and in the stores. The next week there was another editorial, +personal and local in its application, and thereby it became evident +that the new proprietor of the "Herald" was a theorist who believed, in +general, that a politician's honor should not be merely of that +middling healthy species known as "honor amongst politicians"; and, in +particular, that Rodney McCune should not receive the nomination of his +party for Congress. Now, Mr. McCune was the undoubted dictator of the +district, and his followers laughed at the stranger's fantastic onset. + +But the editor was not content with the word of print; he hired a horse +and rode about the country, and (to his own surprise) he proved to be +an adaptable young man who enjoyed exercise with a pitchfork to the +farmer's profit while the farmer talked. He talked little himself, but +after listening an hour or so, he would drop a word from the saddle as +he left; and then, by some surprising wizardry, the farmer, thinking +over the interview, decided there was some sense in what that young +fellow said, and grew curious to see what the young fellow had further +to say in the "Herald." + +Politics is the one subject that goes to the vitals of every rural +American; and a Hoosier will talk politics after he is dead. + +Everybody read the campaign editorials, and found them interesting, +although there was no one who did not perceive the utter absurdity of a +young stranger's dropping into Carlow and involving himself in a party +fight against the boss of the district. It was entirely a party fight; +for, by grace of the last gerrymander, the nomination carried with it +the certainty of election. A week before the convention there came a +provincial earthquake; the news passed from man to man in awe-struck +whispers--McCune had withdrawn his name, making the hollowest of excuses +to his cohorts. Nothing was known of the real reason for his disordered +retreat, beyond the fact that he had been in Plattville on the morning +before his withdrawal and had issued from a visit to the "Herald" office +in a state of palsy. Mr. Parker, the Rouen printer, had been present at +the close of the interview; but he held his peace at the command of his +employer. He had been called into the sanctum, and had found McCune, +white and shaking, leaning on the desk. + +"Parker," said the editor, exhibiting a bundle of papers he held in his +hand, "I want you to witness a verbal contract between Mr. McCune and +myself. These papers are an affidavit and copies of some records of a +street-car company which obtained a charter while Mr McCune was in +the State legislature. They were sent to me by a man I do not know, an +anonymous friend of Mr. McCune's; in fact, a friend he seems to have +lost. On consideration of our not printing these papers, Mr. McCune +agrees to retire from politics for good. You understand, if he ever +lifts his head again, politically, We publish them, and the courts will +do the rest. Now, in case anything should happen to me----" + +"Something will happen to you, all right," broke out McCune. "You can +bank on that, you black----" + +"Come," the editor interrupted, not unpleasantly "why should there be +anything personal, in all this? I don't recognize you as my private +enemy--not at all; and I think you are getting off rather easily; aren't +you? You stay out of politics, and everything will be comfortable. You +ought never to have been in it, you see. It's a mistake not to keep +square, because in the long run somebody is sure to give you away--like +the fellow who sent me these. You promise to hold to a strictly private +life?" + +"You're a traitor to the party," groaned the other, "but you only +wait----" + +The editor smiled sadly. "Wait nothing. Don't threaten, man. Go home to +your wife. I'll give you three to one she'll be glad you are out of it." + +"I'll give you three to one," said McCune, "that the White Caps will +get you if you stay in Carlow. You want to look out for yourself, I tell +you, my smart boy!" + +"Good-day, Mr. McCune," was the answer. "Let me have your note of +withdrawal before you leave town this afternoon." The young man paused +a moment, then extended his hand, as he said: "Shake hands, won't you? +I--I haven't meant to be too hard on you. I hope things will seem easier +and gayer to you before long; and if--if anything should turn up that I +can do for you in a private way, I'll be very glad, you know. Good-by." + +The sound of the "Herald's" victory went over the State. The paper came +out regularly. The townsfolk bought it and the farmers drove in for it. +Old subscribers came back. Old advertisers renewed. The "Herald" began +to sell in Amo, and Gaines County people subscribed. Carlow folk held +up their heads when journalism was mentioned. Presently the "Herald" +announced a news connection with Rouen, and with that, and the aid of +"patent insides," began an era of three issues a week, appearing on +Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. The Plattville Brass Band serenaded +the editor. + +During the second month of the new regime of the "Herald," the working +force of the paper received an addition. One night the editor found some +barroom loafers tormenting a patriarchal old man who had a magnificent +head and a grand white beard. He had been thrown out of a saloon, and he +was drunk with the drunkenness of three weeks steady pouring. He propped +himself against a wall and reproved his tormentors in Latin. "I'm +walking your way, Mr. Fisbee," remarked the journalist, hooking his arm +into the old man's. "Suppose we leave our friends here and go home?" + +Mr. Fisbee was the one inhabitant of the town who had an unknown past; +no one knew more about him than that he had been connected with a +university somewhere, and had travelled in unheard-of countries before +he came to Plattville. A glamour of romance was thrown about him by the +gossips, to whom he ever proved a fund of delightful speculation. There +was a dark, portentous secret in his life, it was agreed; an opinion +not too well confirmed by the old man's appearance. His fine eyes had a +pathetic habit of wandering to the horizon in a questioning fashion that +had a queer sort of hopelessness in it, as if his quest were one for the +Holy Grail, perhaps; and his expression was mild, vague, and sad. He had +a look of race and blood; and yet, at the first glance, one saw that he +was lost in dreams, and one guessed that the dreams would never be +of great practicability in their application. Some such impression of +Fisbee was probably what caused the editor of the "Herald" to nickname +him (in his own mind) "The White Knight," and to conceive a strong, if +whimsical, fancy for him. + +Old Fisbee had come (from nobody knew where) to Plattville to teach, +and had been principal of the High School for ten years, instructing +his pupils after a peculiar fashion of his own, neglecting the ordinary +courses of High School instruction to lecture on archaeology to the +dumfounded scholars; growing year by year more forgetful and absent, +lost in his few books and his own reflections, until, though undeniably +a scholar, he had been discharged for incompetency. He was old; he had +no money and no way to make money; he could find nothing to do. The blow +had seemed to daze him for a time; then he began to drop in at the hotel +bar, where Wilkerson, the professional drunkard, favored him with his +society. The old man understood; he knew it was the beginning of the +end. He sold his books in order to continue his credit at the Palace +bar, and once or twice, unable to proceed to his own dwelling, spent +the night in a lumber yard, piloted thither by the hardier veteran, +Wilkerson. + +The morning after the editor took him home, Fisbee appeared at the +"Herald" office in a new hat and a decent suit of black. He had received +his salary in advance, his books had been repurchased, and he had become +the reportorial staff of the "Carlow County Herald"; also, he was to +write various treatises for the paper. For the first few evenings, when +he started home from the office, his chief walked with him, chatting +heartily, until they had passed the Palace bar. But Fisbee's redemption +was complete. + +The old man had a daughter. When she came to Plattville, he told her +what the editor of the "Herald" had done for him. + +The journalist kept steadily at his work; and, as time went on, the +bitterness his predecessor's swindle had left him passed away. But his +loneliness and a sense of defeat grew and deepened. When the vistas of +the world had opened to his first youth, he had not thought to spend his +life in such a place as Plattville; but he found himself doing it, and +it was no great happiness to him that the congressional representative +of the district, the gentleman whom the "Herald's" opposition to +McCune had sent to Washington, came to depend on his influence for +renomination; nor did the realization that the editor of the "Carlow +County Herald" had come to be McCune's successor as political dictator +produce a perceptibly enlivening effect on the young man. The years +drifted very slowly, and to him it seemed they went by while he stood +far aside and could not even see them move. He did not consider the life +he led an exciting one; but the other citizens of Carlow did when he +undertook a war against the "White Caps." The natives were much more +afraid of the "White Caps" than he was; they knew more about them and +understood them better than he did. + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE STRANGE LADY + +IT was June. From the patent inner columns of the "Carlow County Herald" +might be gleaned the information (enlivened by cuts of duchesses) that +the London season had reached a high point of gaiety; and that, although +the weather had grown inauspiciously warm, there was sufficient gossip +for the thoughtful. To the rapt mind of Miss Selina Tibbs came a +delicious moment of comparison: precisely the same conditions prevailed +in Plattville. + +Not unduly might Miss Selina lay this flattering unction to her soul, +and well might the "Herald" declare that "Carlow events were crowding +thick and fast." The congressional representative of the district was +to deliver a lecture at the court-house; a circus was approaching the +county-seat, and its glories would be exhibited "rain or shine"; the +court had cleared up the docket by sitting to unseemly hours of the +night, even until ten o'clock--one farmer witness had fallen asleep +while deposing that he "had knowed this man Hender some eighteen +year"--and, as excitements come indeed when they do come, and it seldom +rains but it pours, the identical afternoon of the lecture a strange +lady descended from the Rouen Accommodation and was greeted on the +platform by the wealthiest citizen of the county. Judge Briscoe, and +his daughter, Minnie, and (what stirred wonder to an itch almost beyond +endurance) Mr. Fisbee! and they then drove through town on the way to +the Briscoe mansion, all four, apparently, in a fluster of pleasure and +exhilaration, the strange lady engaged in earnest conversation with Mr. +Fisbee on the back seat. + +Judd Bennett had had the best stare at her, but, as he immediately fell +into a dreamy and absent state, little satisfaction could be got from +him, merely an exasperating statement that the stranger seemed to have +a kind of new look to her. However, by means of Miss Mildy Upton, a +domestic of the Briscoe household, the community was given something a +little more definite. The lady's name was Sherwood; she lived in Rouen; +and she had known Miss Briscoe at the eastern school the latter had +attended (to the feverish agitation of Plattville) three years before; +but Mildy confessed her inadequacy in the matter of Mr. Fisbee. He had +driven up in the buckboard with the others and evidently expected to +stay for supper Mr. Tibbs, the postmaster (it was to the postoffice +that Miss Upton brought her information) suggested, as a possible +explanation, that the lady was so learned that the Briscoes had invited +Fisbee on the ground of his being the only person in Plattville they +esteemed wise enough to converse with her; but Miss Tibbs wrecked her +brother's theory by mentioning the name of Fisbee's chief. + +"You see, Solomon," she sagaciously observed, "if that were true, they +would have invited him, instead of Mr. Fisbee, and I wish they had. +He isn't troubled with malaria, and yet the longer he lives here the +sallower-looking and sadder-looking he gets. I think the company of a +lovely stranger might be of great cheer to his heart, and it will be +interesting to witness the meeting between them. It may be," added the +poetess, "that they _have_ already met, on his travels before he settled +here. It may be that they are old friends--or even more." + +"Then what," returned her brother, "what is he doin' settin' up in his +office all afternoon with ink on his forehead, while Fisbee goes out +ridin' with her and stays for supper after_werds_?" + +Although the problem of Fisbee's attendance remained a mere maze of +hopeless speculation, Mildy had been present at the opening of Miss +Sherwood's trunk, and here was matter for the keen consideration of the +ladies, at least. Thoughtful conversations in regard to hats and linings +took place across fences and on corners of the Square that afternoon; +and many gentlemen wondered (in wise silence) why their spouses were +absent-minded and brooded during the evening meal. + +At half-past seven, the Hon. Kedge Halloway of Amo delivered himself +of his lecture; "The Past and Present. What we may Glean from Them, and +Their Influence on the Future." At seven the court-room was crowded, and +Miss Tibbs, seated on the platform (reserved for prominent citizens), +viewed the expectant throng with rapture. It is possible that she would +have confessed to witnessing a sea of faces, but it is more probable +that she viewed the expectant throng. The thermometer stood at +eighty-seven degrees and there was a rustle of incessantly moving +palm-leaf fans as, row by row, their yellow sides twinkled in the light +of eight oil lamps. The stouter ladies wielded their fans with vigor. +There were some very pretty faces in Mr. Halloway's audience, but it +is a peculiarity of Plattville that most of those females who do not +incline to stoutness incline far in the opposite direction, and the lean +ladies naturally suffered less from the temperature than their sisters. +The shorn lamb is cared for, but often there seems the intention to +impart a moral in the refusal of Providence to temper warm weather to +the full-bodied. + +Old Tom Martin expressed a strong consciousness of such intention when +he observed to the shocked Miss Selina, as Mr. Bill Snoddy, the stoutest +citizen of the county, waddled abnormally up the aisle: "The Almighty +must be gittin" a heap of fun out of Bill Snoddy to-night." + +"Oh, Mr. Martin!" exclaimed Miss Tibbs, fluttering at his irreverence. + +"Why, you would yourself. Miss Seliny," returned old Tom. Mr. Martin +always spoke in one key, never altering the pitch of his high, dry, +unctuous drawl, though, when his purpose was more than ordinarily +humorous, his voice assumed a shade of melancholy. Now and then he +meditatively passed his fingers through his gray beard, which followed +the line of his jaw, leaving his upper lip and most of his chin +smooth-shaven. "Did you ever reason out why folks laugh so much at fat +people?" he continued. "No, ma'am. Neither'd anybody else." + +"Why is it, Mr. Martin?" asked Miss Selina. + +"It's like the Creator's sayin', 'Let there be light.' He says, +'Let ladies be lovely--'" (Miss Tibbs bowed)--"and 'Let men-folks be +honest--sometimes;' and, 'Let fat people be held up to ridicule +till they fall off.' You can't tell why it is; it was jest ordained +that-a-way." + +The room was so crowded that the juvenile portion of the assemblage was +ensconced in the windows. Strange to say, the youth of Plattville were +not present under protest, as their fellows of a metropolis would have +been, lectures being well understood by the young of great cities +to have instructive tendencies. The boys came to-night because they +insisted upon coming. It was an event. Some of them had made sacrifices +to come, enduring even the agony (next to hair-cutting in suffering) of +having their ears washed. Conscious of parental eyes, they fronted +the public with boyhood's professional expressionlessness, though they +communicated with each other aside in a cipher-language of their own, +and each group was a hot-bed of furtive gossip and sarcastic comment. +Seated in the windows, they kept out what small breath of air might +otherwise have stolen in to comfort the audience. + +Their elders sat patiently dripping with perspiration, most of the +gentlemen undergoing the unusual garniture of stiffly-starched collars, +those who had not cultivated chin beards to obviate such arduous +necessities of pomp and state, hardly bearing up under the added anxiety +of cravats. However, they sat outwardly meek under the yoke; nearly all +of them seeking a quiet solace of tobacco--not that they smoked; Heaven +and the gallantry of Carlow County forbid--nor were there anywhere +visible tokens of the comforting ministrations of nicotine to violate +the eye of etiquette. It is an art of Plattville. + +Suddenly there was a hum and a stir and a buzz of whispering in the +room. Two gray old men and two pretty young women passed up the aisle to +the platform. One old man was stalwart and ruddy, with a cordial eye +and a handsome, smooth-shaven, big face. The other was bent and trembled +slightly; his face was very white; he had a fine high brow, deeply +lined, the brow of a scholar, and a grandly flowing white beard that +covered his chest, the beard of a patriarch. One of the young women +was tall and had the rosy cheeks and pleasant eyes of her father, who +preceded her. The other was the strange lady. + +A universal perturbation followed her progress up the aisle, if she had +known it. She was small and fair, very daintily and beautifully made; +a pretty Marquise whose head Greuze should have painted. Mrs. Columbus +Landis, wife of the proprietor of the Palace Hotel, conferring with a +lady in the next seat, applied an over-burdened adjective: "It ain't so +much she's han'some, though she is, that--but don't you notice she's got +a kind of smart look to her? Her bein' so teeny, kind of makes it more +so, somehow, too." What stunned the gossips of the windows to awed +admiration, however, was the unconcerned and stoical fashion in which +she wore a long bodkin straight through her head. It seemed a large +sacrifice merely to make sure one's hat remained in place. + +The party took seats a little to the left and rear of the lecturer's +table, and faced the audience. The strange lady chatted gaily with the +other three, apparently as unconscious of the multitude of eyes fixed +upon her as the gazers were innocent of rude intent. There were pretty +young women in Plattville; Minnie Briscoe was the prettiest, and, as the +local glass of fashion reflected, "the stylishest"; but this girl +was different, somehow, in a way the critics were puzzled to +discover--different, from the sparkle of her eyes and the crown of her +trim sailor hat, to the edge of her snowy duck skirt. + +Judd Bennett sighed a sigh that was heard in every corner of the room. +As everybody immediately turned to look at him, he got up and went out. + +It had long been a jocose fiction of Mr. Martin, who was a widower of +thirty years' standing, that he and the gifted authoress by his side +were in a state of courtship. Now he bent his rugged head toward her +to whisper: "I never thought to see the day you'd have a rival in my +affections. Miss Seliny, but yonder looks like it. I reckon I'll have +to go up to Ben Tinkle's and buy that fancy vest he's had in stock this +last twelve year or more. Will you take me back when she's left the city +again; Miss Seliny?" he drawled. "I expect, maybe, Miss Sherwood is +one of these here summer girls. I've heard of 'em but I never see one +before. You better take warning and watch me--Fisbee won't have no clear +field from now on." + +The stranger leaned across to speak to Miss Briscoe and her sleeve +touched the left shoulder of the old man with the patriarchal white +beard. A moment later he put his right hand to that shoulder and gently +moved it up and down with a caressing motion over the shabby black +broadcloth her garment had touched. + +"Look at that old Fisbee!" exclaimed Mr. Martin, affecting indignation. +"Never be 'n half as spruced up and wide awake in all his life. He's +prob'ly got her to listen to him on the decorations of Nineveh--it's my +belief he was there when it was destroyed. Well, if I can't cut him out +we'll get our respected young friend of the 'Herald' to do it." + +"Sh!" returned Miss Tibbs. "Here he is." + +The seats upon the platform were all occupied, except the two foremost +ones in the centre (one on each side of a little table with a lamp, a +pitcher of ice-water, and a glass) reserved for the lecturer and the +gentleman who was to introduce him. Steps were audible in the hall, and +every one turned to watch the door, where the distinguished pair now +made their appearance in a hush of expectation over which the beating +of the fans alone prevailed. The Hon. Kedge Halloway was one of the +gleaners of the flesh-pots, himself, and he marched into the room +unostentatiously mopping his shining expanse of brow with a figured +handkerchief. He was a person of solemn appearance; a fat gold +watch-chain which curved across his ponderous front, adding mysteriously +to his gravity. At his side strolled a very tall, thin, rather +stooping--though broad-shouldered--rather shabby young man with a +sallow, melancholy face and deep-set eyes that looked tired. When they +were seated, the orator looked over his audience slowly and with an +incomparable calm; then, as is always done, he and the melancholy young +man exchanged whispers for a few moments. After this there was a pause, +at the end of which the latter rose and announced that it was his +pleasure and his privilege to introduce, that evening, a gentleman who +needed no introduction to that assemblage. What citizen of Carlow needed +an introduction, asked the speaker, to the orator they had applauded +in the campaigns of the last twenty years, the statesman author of +the Halloway Bill, the most honored citizen of the neighboring and +flourishing county and city of Amo? And, the speaker would say, that if +there were one thing the citizens of Carlow could be held to envy the +citizens of Amo, it was the Honorable Kedge Halloway, the thinker, +to whose widely-known paper they were about to have the pleasure and +improvement of listening. + +The introduction was so vehemently applauded that, had there been +present a person connected with the theatrical profession, he might have +been nervous for fear the introducer had prepared no encore. "Kedge is +too smart to take it all to himself," commented Mr. Martin. "He knows +it's half account of the man that said it." + +He was not mistaken. Mr. Halloway had learned a certain perceptiveness +on the stump. Resting one hand upon his unfolded notes upon the table, +he turned toward the melancholy young man (who had subsided into the +small of his back in his chair) and, after clearing his throat, observed +with sudden vehemence that he must thank his gifted friend for his +flattering remarks, but that when he said that Carlow envied Amo a +Halloway, it must be replied that Amo grudged no glory to her sister +county of Carlow, but, if Amo could find envy in her heart it would be +because Carlow possessed a paper so sterling, so upright, so brilliant, +so enterprising as the "Carlow County Herald," and a journalist so +talented, so gifted, so energetic, so fearless, as its editor. + +The gentleman referred to showed very faint appreciation of these +ringing compliments. There was a lamp on the table beside him, against +which, to the view of Miss Sherwood of Rouen, his face was silhouetted, +and very rarely had it been her lot to see a man look less enthusiastic +under public and favorable comment of himself. She wondered if he, +also, remembered the Muggleton cricket match and the subsequent dinner +oratory. + +The lecture proceeded. The orator winged away to soary heights with +gestures so vigorous as to cause admiration for his pluck in making use +of them on such a night; the perspiration streamed down his face, his +neck grew purple, and he dared the very face of apoplexy, binding his +auditors with a double spell. It is true that long before the peroration +the windows were empty and the boys were eating stolen, unripe fruit in +the orchards of the listeners. The thieves were sure of an alibi. + +The Hon. Mr. Halloway reached a logical conclusion which convinced even +the combative and unwilling that the present depends largely upon the +past, while the future will be determined, for the most part, by the +conditions of the present. "The future," he cried, leaning forward with +an expression of solemn warning, "The future is in our own hands, ladies +and gentlemen of the city of Plattville. Is it not so? We will find it +so. Turn it over in your minds." He leaned backward and folded his hands +benevolently on his stomach and said in a searching whisper; "Ponder +it." He waited for them to ponder it, and little Mr. Swanter, the +druggist and bookseller, who prided himself on his politeness and who +was seated directly in front, scratched his head and knit his brows +to show that he was pondering it. The stillness was intense; the fans +ceased to beat; Mr. Snoddy could be heard breathing dangerously. Mr. +Swanter was considering the advisability of drawing a pencil from his +pocket and figuring on it upon his cuff, when suddenly, with the energy +of a whirlwind, the lecturer threw out his arms to their fullest extent +and roared: "It is a _fact_! It is carven on stone in the gloomy caverns +of TIME. It is writ in FIRE on the imperishable walls of Fate!" + +After the outburst, his voice sank with startling rapidity to a tone of +honeyed confidence, and he wagged an inviting forefinger at Mr. +Snoddy, who opened his mouth. "Shall we take an example? Not from the +marvellous, my friends; let us seek an illustration from the ordinary. +Is that not better? One familiar to the humblest of us. One we can all +comprehend. One from our every-day life. One which will interest even +the young. Yes. The common house-fly. On a window-sill we place a bit +of fly-paper, and contiguous to it, a flower upon which the happy +insect likes to feed and rest. The little fly approaches. See, he hovers +between the two. One is a fatal trap, an ambuscade, and the other a +safe harbor and an innocuous haven. But mystery allures him. He poises, +undecided. That is the present. That, my friends, is the Present! What +will he do? WHAT will he do? What will he DO? Memories of the past +are whispering to him: 'Choose the flower. Light on the posy.' Here we +clearly see the influence of the past upon the present. But, to employ a +figure of speech, the fly-paper beckons to the insect toothsomely, and, +thinks he; 'Shall I give it a try? Shall I? Shall I give it a try?' The +future is in his own hands to make or unmake. The past, the voice of +Providence, has counselled him: 'Leave it alone, leave it alone, little +fly. Go away from there.' Does he heed the warning? Does he heed it, +ladies and gentlemen? Does he? Ah, no! He springs into the air, decides +between the two attractions, one of them, so deadly to his interests +and--_drops upon the fly-paper to perish miserably_! The future is in +his hands no longer. We must lie upon the bed that we have made, nor can +Providence change its unalterable decrees." + +After the tragedy, the orator took a swallow of water, mopped his brow +with the figured handkerchief and announced that a new point herewith +presented itself for consideration. The audience sank back with a gasp +of release from the strain of attention. Minnie Briscoe, leaning back, +breathless like the others, became conscious that a tremor agitated +her visitor. Miss Sherwood had bent her head behind the shelter of the +judge's broad shoulders; was shaking slightly and had covered her face +with her hands. + +"What is it, Helen?" whispered Miss Briscoe, anxiously. "What is it? Is +something the matter?" + +"Nothing. Nothing, dear." She dropped her hands from her face. Her +cheeks were deep crimson, and she bit her lip with determination. + +"Oh, but there is! Why, you've tears in your eyes. Are you faint? What +is it?" + +"It is only--only----" Miss Sherwood choked, then cast a swift glance at +the profile of the melancholy young man. The perfectly dismal decorum of +this gentleman seemed to inspire her to maintain her own gravity. "It +is only that it seemed such a pity about that fly," she explained. From +where they sat the journalistic silhouette was plainly visible, and both +Fisbee and Miss Sherwood looked toward it often, the former with the +wistful, apologetic fidelity one sees in the eyes of an old setter +watching his master. + +When the lecture was over many of the audience pressed forward to shake +the Hon. Mr. Halloway's hand. Tom Martin hooked his arm in that of the +sallow gentleman and passed out with him. + +"Mighty humanizin' view Kedge took of that there insect," remarked Mr. +Martin. "I don't recollect I ever heard of no mournfuller error +than that'n. I noticed you spoke of Halloway as a 'thinker,' without +mentioning what kind. I didn't know, before, that you were as cautious a +man as that." + +"Does your satire find nothing sacred, Martin?" returned the other, "not +even the Honorable Kedge Halloway?" + +"I wouldn't presume," replied old Tom, "to make light of the catastrophe +that overtook the heedless fly. When Halloway went on to other subjects +I was so busy picturin' the last moments of that closin' life, stuck +there in the fly-paper, I couldn't listen to him. But there's no use +dwellin' on a sorrow we can't help. Look at the moon; it's full enough +to cheer us up." They had emerged from the court-house and paused on +the street as the stream of townsfolk divided and passed by them to take +different routes leading from the Square. Not far away, some people were +getting into a buckboard. Fisbee and Miss Sherwood were already on the +rear seat. + +"Who's with him, to-night, Mr. Fisbee?" asked Judge Briscoe in a low +voice. + +"No one. He is going directly to the office. To-morrow is Thursday, one +of our days of publication." + +"Oh, then it's all right. Climb in, Minnie, we're waiting for you." The +judge offered his hand to his daughter. + +"In a moment, father," she answered. "I'm going to ask him to call," she +said to the other girl. + +"But won't he--" + +Miss Briscoe laughed. "He never comes to see me!" She walked over +to where Martin and the young man were looking up at the moon, and +addressed the journalist. + +"I've been trying to get a chance to speak to you for a week," she said, +offering him her hand; "I wanted to tell you I had a friend coming to +visit me Won't you come to see us? She's here." + +The young man bowed. "Thank you," he answered. "Thank you, very much. I +shall be very glad." His tone had the meaningless quality of perfunctory +courtesy; Miss Briscoe detected only the courtesy; but the strange lady +marked the lack of intention in his words. + +"Don't you include me, Minnie?" inquired Mr Martin, plaintively. "I'll +try not to be too fascinatin', so as to give our young friend a show. It +was love at first sight with me. I give Miss Seliny warning soon as your +folks come in and I got a good look at the lady." + +As the buckboard drove away, Miss Sherwood, who had been gazing +steadfastly at the two figures still standing in the street, the tall +ungainly old one, and the taller, loosely-held young one (he had not +turned to look at her) withdrew her eyes from them, bent them seriously +upon Fisbee, and asked: "What did you mean when you said no one was with +him to-night?" + +"That no one was watching him," he answered. + +"Watching him? I don't understand." + +"Yes; he has been shot at from the woods at night and----" + +The girl shivered. "But who watches him?" + +"The young men of the town. He has a habit of taking long walks after +dark, and he is heedless of all remonstrance. He laughs at the idea +of curtailing the limit of his strolls or keeping within the town when +night has fallen; so the young men have organized a guard for him, and +every evening one of them follows him until he goes to the office to +work for the night. It is a different young man every evening, and the +watcher follows at a distance so that he does not suspect." + +"But how many people know of this arrangement?" + +"Nearly every one in the county except the Cross-Roads people, though it +is not improbable that they have discovered it." + +"And has no one told him" + +"No; it would annoy him; he would not allow it to continue. He will not +even arm himself." + +"They follow and watch him night after night, and every one knows and no +one tells him? Oh, I must say," cried the girl, "I think these are good +people." + +The stalwart old man on the front seat shook out the reins and whined +the whip over his roans' backs. "They are the people of your State and +mine. Miss Sherwood," he said in his hearty voice, "the best people in +God's world--and I'm not running for Congress, either!" + +"But how about the Six-Cross-Roads people, father?" asked Minnie. + +"We'll wipe them clean out some day," answered her father--"possibly +judicially, possibly----" + +"Surely judiciously?" suggested Miss Sherwood. + +"If you care to see what a bad settlement looks like, we'll drive +through there to-morrow--by daylight," said Briscoe. "Even the doctor +doesn't insist on being in that neighborhood after dark. They are trying +their best to get Harkless, and if they do----" + +"If they do!" repeated Miss Sherwood. She clasped Fisbee's hand gently. +His eyes shone and he touched her fingers with a strange, shy reverence. + +"You will meet him to-morrow," he said. + +She laughed and pressed his hand. "I'm afraid not. He wasn't even +interested enough to look at me." + + + + +CHAPTER III. LONESOMENESS + +When the rusty hands of the office clock marked half-past four, the +editor-in-chief of the "Carlow County Herald" took his hand out of his +hair, wiped his pen on his last notice from the White-Caps, put on his +coat, swept out the close little entry, and left the sanctum for the +bright June afternoon. + +He chose the way to the west, strolling thoughtfully out of town by the +white, hot, deserted Main Street, and thence onward by the country +road into which its proud half-mile of old brick store buildings, +tumbled-down frame shops and thinly painted cottages degenerated. The +sun was in his face, where the road ran between the summer fields, lying +waveless, low, gracious in promise; but, coming to a wood of hickory and +beech and walnut that stood beyond, he might turn his down-bent-hat-brim +up and hold his head erect. Here the shade fell deep and cool on the +green tangle of rag and iron weed and long grass in the corners of the +snake fence, although the sun beat upon the road so dose beside. There +was no movement in the crisp young leaves overhead; high in the boughs +there was a quick flirt of crimson where two robins hopped noiselessly. +No insect raised resentment of the lonesomeness: the late afternoon, +when the air is quite still, had come; yet there rested--somewhere--on +the quiet day, a faint, pleasant, woody smell. It came to the editor of +the "Herald" as he climbed to the top rail of the fence for a seat, +and he drew a long, deep breath to get the elusive odor more +luxuriously--and then it was gone altogether. + +"A habit of delicacies," he said aloud, addressing the wide silence +complainingly. He drew a faded tobacco-bag and a brier pipe from his +coat pocket and filled and lit the pipe. "One taste--and they quit," he +finished, gazing solemnly upon the shining little town down the road. +He twirled the pouch mechanically about his finger, and then, suddenly +regarding it, patted it caressingly. It had been a giddy little bag, +long ago, satin, and gay with embroidery in the colors of the editor's +university; and although now it was frayed to the verge of tatters, it +still bore an air of pristine jauntiness, an air of which its owner in +no wise partook. He looked from it over the fields toward the town in +the clear distance and sighed softly as he put the pouch back in his +pocket, and, resting his arm on his knee and his chin in his hand, sat +blowing clouds of smoke out of the shade into the sunshine, absently +watching the ghostly shadows dance on the white dust of the road. + +A little garter snake crept under the fence beneath him and disappeared +in the underbrush; a rabbit progressing timidly on his travels by a +series of brilliant dashes and terror-smitten halts, came within a few +yards of him, sat up with quivering nose and eyes alight with fearful +imaginings--vanished, a flash of fluffy brown and white. Shadows grew +longer; the brier pipe sputtered feebly in depletion and was refilled. A +cricket chirped and heard answer; there was a woodland stir of breezes; +and the pair of robins left the branches overhead in eager flight, +vacating before the arrival of a great flock of blackbirds hastening +thither ere the eventide should be upon them. The blackbirds came, +chattered, gossiped, quarrelled, and beat each other with their wings +above the smoker sitting on the top fence rail. + +But he had remembered--it was Commencement. To-day, a thousand miles to +the east, a company of grave young gentlemen sat in semi-circular rows +before a central altar, while above them rose many tiers of mothers and +sisters and sweethearts, listening to the final word. He could see it +all very clearly: the lines of freshly shaven, boyish faces, the dainty +gowns, the flowers and bright eyes above, and the light that filtered +in through stained glass to fall softly over them all, with, here and +there, a vivid splash of color, Gothic shaped. He could see the throngs +of white-clad loungers under the elms without, under-classmen, bored by +the Latin addresses and escaped to the sward and breeze of the campus; +there were the troops of roistering graduates trotting about arm in arm, +and singing; he heard the mandolins on the little balconies play an old +refrain and the university cheering afterward; saw the old professor he +had cared for most of all, with the thin white hair straggling over his +silken hood, following the band in the sparse ranks of his class. And he +saw his own Commencement Day--and the station at the junction where he +stood the morning after, looking across the valley at the old towers +for the last time; saw the broken groups of his class, standing upon the +platform on the other side of the tracks, waiting for the south-bound +train as he and others waited for the north-bound--and they all sang +"Should auld acquaintance be forgot;" and, while they looked across at +each other, singing, the shining rails between them wavered and blurred +as the engine rushed in and separated them and their lives thenceforth. +He filled his pipe again and spoke to the phantoms gliding over the +dust--"Seven years!" He was occupied with the realization that there had +been a man in his class whose ambition needed no restraint, his promise +was so complete--in the strong belief of the university, a belief +he could not help knowing--and that seven years to a day from his +Commencement this man was sitting on a fence rail in Indiana. + +Down the road a buggy came creaking toward him, gray with dust, the top +canted permanently to one side, old and frayed, like the fat, shaggy, +gray mare that drew it; her unchecked, despondent head lowering before +her, while her incongruous tail waved incessantly, like the banner of a +storming party. The editor did not hear the flop of the mare's feet nor +the sound of the wheels, so deep was his reverie, till the vehicle was +nearly opposite him. The red-faced and perspiring driver drew rein, and +the journalist looked up and waved a long white hand to him in greeting. + +"Howdy' do, Mr. Harkless?" called the man in the buggy. "Soakin' in the +weather?" He spoke in shouts, though neither was hard of hearing. + +"Yes; just soaking," answered Harkless; "it's such a gypsy day. How is +Mr. Bowlder?" + +"I'm givin' good satisfaction, thankye, and all at home. She's in town; +goin' in after her now." + +"Give Mrs. Bowlder my regards," said the journalist, comprehending the +symbolism. "How is Hartley?" + +The farmer's honest face shaded over, a second. "He's be'n steady ever +sence the night you brought him out home; six weeks straight. I'm kind +of bothered about to-morrow--It's show-day and he wants to come in town +with us, and seems if I hadn't any call to say no. I reckon he'll have +to take his chances--and us, too." He raised the reins and clucked to +the gray mare; "Well, she'll be mad I ain't there long ago. Ride in with +me?" + +"No, I thank you. I'll walk in for the sake of my appetite." + +"Wouldn't encourage it _too_ much--livin' at the Palace Hotel,'" +observed Bowlder. "Sorry ye won't ride." He gathered the loose ends of +the reins in his hands, leaned far over the dashboard and struck the +mare a hearty thwack; the tattered banner of tail jerked indignantly, +but she consented to move down the road. Bowlder thrust his big head +through the sun-curtain behind him and continued the conversation: "See +the White-Caps ain't got ye yet." + +"No, not yet." Harkless laughed. + +"Reckon the boys 'druther ye stayed in town after dark," the other +called back; then, as the mare stumbled into a trot, "Well, come out and +see us--if ye kin spare time from the jedge's." The latter clause seemed +to be an afterthought intended with humor, for Bowlder accompanied it +with the loud laughter of sylvan timidity, risking a joke. Harkless +nodded without the least apprehension of his meaning, and waved farewell +as Bowlder finally turned his attention to the mare. When the flop, +flop of her hoofs had died out, the journalist realized that the day was +silent no longer; it was verging into evening. + +He dropped from the fence and turned his face toward town and supper. He +felt the light and life about him; heard the clatter of the blackbirds +above him; heard the homing bees hum by, and saw the vista of white road +and level landscape, framed on two sides by the branches of the grove, +a vista of infinitely stretching fields of green, lined here and there +with woodlands and flat to the horizon line, the village lying in their +lap. No roll of meadow, no rise of pasture land, relieved their serenity +nor shouldered up from them to be called a hill. A second great flock of +blackbirds was settling down over the Plattville maples. As they hung +in the fair dome of the sky below the few white clouds, it occurred to +Harkless that some supping god had inadvertently peppered his custard, +and now inverted and emptied his gigantic blue dish upon the earth, +the innumerable little black dots seeming to poise for a moment, then +floating slowly down from the heights. + +A farm-bell rang in the distance, a tinkling coming small and mellow +from far away, and at the lonesomeness of that sound he heaved a long, +mournful sigh. The next instant he broke into laughter, for another bell +rang over the fields, the court-house bell in the Square. The first +four strokes were given with mechanical regularity, the pride of +the custodian who operated the bell being to produce the effect of a +clock-work bell such as he had once heard in the court-house at Rouen; +but the fifth and sixth strokes were halting achievements, as, after +four o'clock, he often lost count on the strain of the effort for +precise imitation. There was a pause after the sixth, then a dubious and +reluctant stroke--seven--a longer pause, followed by a final ring with +desperate decision--eight! Harkless looked at his watch; it was twenty +minutes of six. + +As he crossed the court-house yard to the Palace Hotel, he stopped to +exchange a word with the bell-ringer, who, seated on the steps, was +mopping his brow with an air of hard-earned satisfaction. + +"Good-evening, Schofields'," he said. "You came in strong on the last +stroke, to-night." + +"What we need here," responded the bell-ringer, "is more public-spirited +men. I ain't kickin' on you, Mr. Harkless, no sir; but we want more men +like they got in Rouen; we want men that'll git Main Street paved with +block or asphalt; men that'll put in factories, men that'll act and not +set round like that ole fool Martin and laugh and polly-woggle and make +fun of public sperrit, day in and out. I reckon I do my best for the +city." + +"Oh, nobody minds Tom Martin," answered Harkless. "It's only half the +time he means anything by what he says." + +"That's jest what I hate about him," returned the bell-ringer in a tone +of high complaint; "you can't never tell which half it is. Look at him +now!" Over in front of the hotel Martin was standing, talking to the row +of coatless loungers who sat with their chairs tilted back against the +props of the wooden awning that projected over the sidewalk. Their faces +were turned toward the court-house, and even those lost in meditative +whittling had looked up to laugh. Martin, his hands in the pockets of +his alpaca coat, his rusty silk hat tilted forward till the wide brim +rested almost on the bridge of his nose, was addressing them in his +one-keyed voice, the melancholy whine of which, though not the words, +penetrated to the court-house steps. + +The bell-ringer, whose name was Henry Schofield, but who was known as +Schofield's Henry (popularly abbreviated to Schofields') was moved to +indignation. "Look at him," he cried. "Look at him! Everlastingly goin' +on about my bell! Let him talk, jest let him talk." The supper gong +boomed inside the hotel and Harkless bade the bell-ringer good-night. As +he moved away the latter called after him: "He don't disturb nobody. Let +him talk. Who pays any 'tention to him I'd like to know?" There was a +burst of laughter from the whittlers. Schofields' sat in patient silence +for a full minute, as one who knew that no official is too lofty to +escape the anathemas of envy. Then he sprang to his feet and shook his +fist at Martin, who was disappearing within the door of the hotel. "Go +to Halifax!" he shouted. + +The dining-room of the Palace Hotel was a large, airy apartment, +rustling with artistically perforated and slashed pink paper that hung +everywhere, at this season of the year, to lend festal effect as well as +to palliate the scourge of flies. There were six or seven large tables, +all vacant except that at which Columbus Landis, the landlord, sat with +his guests, while his wife and children ate in the kitchen by their own +preference. Transient trade was light in Plattville; nobody ever came +there, except occasional commercial travellers who got out of town the +instant it was possible, and who said awful things if, by the exigencies +of the railway time-table, they were left over night. + +Behind the host's chair stood a red-haired girl in a blue cotton gown; +and in her hand she languidly waved a long instrument made of clustered +strips of green and white and yellow tissue paper fastened to a wooden +wand; with this she amiably amused the flies except at such times as the +conversation proved too interesting, when she was apt to rest it on the +shoulder of one of the guests. This happened each time the editor of +the "Herald" joined in the talk. As the men seated themselves they all +nodded to her and said, "G'd evening, Cynthy." Harkless always called +her Charmion; no one knew why. When he came in she moved around the +table to a chair directly opposite him, and held that station throughout +the meal, with her eyes fixed on his face. Mr. Martin noted this +manoeuvre--it occurred regularly twice a day--with a stealthy smile at +the girl, and her light skin flushed while her lip curled shrewishly +at the old gentleman. "Oh, all right, Cynthy," he whispered to her, and +chuckled aloud at her angry toss of the head. + +"Schofields' seemed to be kind of put out with me this evening," +he remarked, addressing himself to the company. "He's the most +ungratefullest cuss I ever come up with. I was only oratin' on how +proud the city ought to be of him. He fairly keeps Plattville's sportin' +spirit on the gog; 'die out, wasn't for him. There's be'n more money +laid on him whether he'll strike over and above the hour, or under and +below, or whether he'll strike fifteen minutes before time, or twenty +after, than--well, sir, we'd all forgit the language if it wasn't for +Schofields' bell to keep us talkin'; that's _my_ claim. Dull days, think +of the talk he furnishes all over town. Think what he's done to promote +conversation. Now, for instance, Anna Belle Bardlock's got a beau, they +say"--here old Tom tilted back in his chair and turned an innocent eye +upon a youth across the table, young William Todd, who was blushing over +his griddle-cakes--"and I hear he's a good deal scared of Anna Belle and +not just what you might call brash with her. They say every Sunday night +he'll go up to Bardlocks' and call on Anna Belle from half-past six till +nine, and when he's got into his chair he sets and looks at the floor +and the crayon portraits till about seven; then he opens his tremblin' +lips and says, 'Reckon Schofields' must be on his way to the court-house +by this time.' And about an hour later, when Schofields' hits four +or five, he'll speak up again, 'Say, I reckon he means eight.' 'Long +towards nine o'clock, they say he skews around in his chair and says, +'Wonder if he'll strike before time or after,' and Anna Belle answers +out loud, 'I hope after,' for politeness; but in her soul she says, 'I +pray before'; and then Schofields' hits her up for eighteen or twenty, +and Anna Belle's company reaches for his hat. Three Sundays ago he +turned around before he went out and said, 'Do you like apple-butter?' +but never waited to find out. It's the same programme every Sunday +evening, and Jim Bardlock says Anna Belle's so worn out you wouldn't +hardly know her for the blithe creature she was last year--the +excitement's be'n too much for her!" + +Poor William Todd bent his fiery face over the table and suffered the +general snicker in helpless silence. Then there was quiet for a space, +broken only by the click of knives against the heavy china and the +indolent rustle of Cynthia's fly-brush. + +"Town so still," observed the landlord, finally, with a complacent +glance at the dessert course of prunes to which his guests were helping +themselves from a central reservoir, "Town so still, hardly seems like +show-day's come round again. Yet there's be'n some shore signs lately: +when my shavers come honeyin' up with, 'Say, pa, ain't they no urrands +I can go for ye, pa? I like to run 'em for you, pa,'--'relse, 'Oh, pa, +ain't they no water I can haul, or nothin', pa?'--'relse, as little +Rosina T. says, this morning, 'Pa, I always pray fer _you_ pa,' and +pa this and pa that-you can rely either Christmas or show-day's mighty +close." + +William Todd, taking occasion to prove himself recovered from confusion, +remarked casually that there was another token of the near approach of +the circus, as ole Wilkerson was drunk again. + +"There's a man!" exclaimed Mr. Martin with enthusiasm. "There's +the feller for _my_ money! He does his duty as a citizen more +discriminatin'ly on public occasions than any man I ever see. There's +Wilkerson's celebration when there's a funeral; look at the difference +between it and on Fourth of July. Why, sir, it's as melancholy as a +hearse-plume, and sympathy ain't the word for it when he looks at the +remains, no sir; preacher nor undertaker, either, ain't _half_ as blue +and respectful. Then take his circus spree. He come into the store this +afternoon, head up, marchin' like a grenadier and shootin' his hand out +before his face and drawin' it back again, and hollering out, 'Ta, ta, +ta-ra-ta, ta, ta-ta-ra'--why, the dumbest man ever lived could see in +a minute show's 'comin' to-morrow and Wilkerson's playin' the trombone. +Then he'd snort and goggle like an elephant. Got the biggest sense of +appropriateness of any man in the county, Wilkerson has. Folks don't +half appreciate him." + +As each boarder finished his meal he raided the glass of wooden +toothpicks and went away with no standing on the order of his going; +but Martin waited for Harkless, who, not having attended to business so +concisely as the others, was the last to leave the table, and they stood +for a moment under the awning outside, lighting their cigars. + +"Call on the judge, to-night?" asked Martin. + +"No," said Harkless. "Why?" + +"Didn't you see the lady with Minnie and the judge at the lecture?" + +"I caught a glimpse of her. That's what Bowlder meant, then." + +"I don't know what Bowlder meant, but I guess you better go out there, +young man. She might not stay here long." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER + +The Briscoe buckboard rattled along the elastic country-road, the roans +setting a sharp pace as they turned eastward on the pike toward home and +supper. + +"They'll make the eight miles in three-quarters of an hour," said the +judge, proudly. He pointed ahead with his whip. "Just beyond that bend +we pass through Six-Cross-Roads." + +Miss Sherwood leaned forward eagerly. "Can we see 'Mr. Wimby's' house +from here?" + +"No, it's on the other side, nearer town; we pass it later. It's the +only respectable-looking house in this township." They reached the turn +of the road, and the judge touched up his colts to a sharper gait. "No +need of dallying," he observed quietly. "It always makes me a little +sick just to see the place. I'd hate to have a break-down here." + +They came in sight of a squalid settlement, built raggedly about a +blacksmith's shop and a saloon. Half-a-dozen shanties clustered near the +forge, a few roofs scattered through the shiftlessly cultivated fields, +four or five barns propped by fence-rails, some sheds with gaping +apertures through which the light glanced from side to side, a squad of +thin, "razor-back" hogs--now and then worried by gaunt hounds--and +some abused-looking hens, groping about disconsolately in the mire, a +broken-topped buggy with a twisted wheel settling into the mud of the +middle of the road (there was always abundant mud, here, in the dryest +summer), a lowering face sneering from a broken window--Six-Cross-Roads +was forbidding and forlorn enough by day. The thought of what +might issue from it by night was unpleasant, and the legends of the +Cross-Roads, together with an unshapen threat, easily fancied in the +atmosphere of the place, made Miss Sherwood shiver as though a cold +draught had crossed her. + +"It is so sinister!" she exclaimed. "And so unspeakably mean! This is +where they live, the people who hate him, is it? The 'White-Caps'?" + +"They are just a lot of rowdies," replied Briscoe. "You have your rough +corners in big cities, and I expect there are mighty few parts of any +country that don't have their tough neighborhoods, only Six-Cross-Roads +happens to be worse than most. They choose to call themselves +'White-Caps,' but I guess it's just a name they like to give themselves. +Usually White-Caps are a vigilance committee going after rascalities the +law doesn't reach, or won't reach, but these fellows are not that kind. +They got together to wipe out their grudges--and sometimes they didn't +need any grudge and let loose their deviltries just for pure orneriness; +setting haystacks afire and such like; or, where a farmer had offended +them, they would put on their silly toggery and take him out at midnight +and whip him and plunder his house and chase the horses and cattle into +his corn, maybe. They say the women went with them on their raids." + +"And he was the first to try to stop them?" + +"Well, you see our folks are pretty long-suffering," Briscoe replied, +apologetically. "We'd sort of got used to the meanness of the +Cross-Roads. It took a stranger to stir things up--and he did. He sent +eight of 'em to the penitentiary, some for twenty years." + +As they passed the saloon a man stepped into the doorway and looked at +them. He was coatless and clad in garments worn to the color of dust; +his bare head was curiously malformed, higher on one side than on the +other, and though the buckboard passed rapidly, and at a distance, this +singular lopsidedness was plainly visible to the occupants, lending an +ugly significance to his meagre, yellow face. He was tall, lean, hard, +powerfully built. He eyed the strangers with affected languor, and then, +when they had gone by, broke into sudden, loud laughter. + +"That was Bob Skillett, the worst of the lot," said the judge. "Harkless +sent his son and one brother to prison, and it nearly broke his heart +that he couldn't swear to Bob." + +When they were beyond the village and in the open road again. Miss +Sherwood took a deep breath. "I think I breathe more freely," she said. +"That was a hideous laugh he sent after us. I had heard of places +like this before--and I don't think I care to see many of them. As I +understand it, Six-Cross-Roads is entirely vicious, isn't it; and bears +the same relation to the country that the slums do to a city?'" + +"That's about it. They make their own whiskey. I presume; and they have +their own fights amongst themselves, but they settle 'em themselves, +too, and keep their own counsel and hush it up. Lige Willetts, Minnie's +friend--I guess she's told you about Lige?--well, Lige Willetts will go +anywhere when he's following a covey, though mostly the boys leave this +part of the country alone when they're hunting; but Lige got into +a thicket back of the forge one morning, and he came on a crowd of +buzzards quarrelling over a heap on the ground, and he got out in a +hurry. He said he was sure it was a dog; but he ran almost all the way +to Plattville." + +"Father!" exclaimed his daughter, leaning from the back seat. "Don't +tell such stories to Helen; she'll think we're horrible, and you'll +frighten her, too." + +"Well, it isn't exactly a lady's story," said the judge. He glanced at +his guest's face and chuckled. "I guess we won't frighten her much," he +went on. "Young lady, I don't believe you'd be afraid of many things, +would you? You don't look like it. Besides, the Cross-Roads isn't +Plattville, and the White-Caps have been too scared to do anything much, +except try to get even with the 'Herald,' for the last two years; ever +since it went for them. They're laying for Harkless partly for revenge +and partly because they daren't do anything until he's out of the way." + +The girl gave a low cry with a sharp intake of breath. "Ah! One grows +tired of this everlasting American patience! Why don't the Plattville +people do something before they----" + +"It's just as I say," Briscoe answered; "our folks are sort of used to +them. I expect we do about all we can; the boys look after him nights, +and the main trouble is that we can't make him understand he ought to +be more afraid of them. If he'd lived here all his life he would be. +You know there's an old-time feud between the Cross-Roads and our folks; +goes way back into pioneer history and mighty few know anything of it. +Old William Platt and the forefathers of the Bardlocks and Tibbses and +Briscoes and Schofields moved up here from North Carolina a good +deal just to get away from some bad neighbors, mostly Skilletts and +Johnsons--one of the Skilletts had killed old William Platt's two sons. +But the Skilletts and Johnsons followed all the way to Indiana to join +in making the new settlement, and they shot Platt at his cabin door +one night, right where the court-house stands to-day. Then the other +settlers drove them out for good, and they went seven miles west and set +up a still. A band of Indians, on the way to join the Shawnee Prophet at +Tippecanoe, came down on the Cross-Roads, and the Cross-Roaders bought +them off with bad whiskey and sent them over to Plattville. Nearly all +the Plattville men were away, fighting under Harrison, and when they +came back there were only a few half-crazy women and children left. +They'd hid in the woods. + +"The men stopped just long enough to hear how it was, and started for +the Cross-Roads; but the Cross-Roads people caught them in an ambush and +not many of our folks got back. + +"We really never did get even with them, though all the early settlers +lived and died still expecting to see the day when Plattville would go +over and pay off the score. It's the same now as it was then, good stock +with us, bad stock over here; and all the country riff-raff in creation +come and live with 'em when other places get too hot to hold them. Only +one or two of us old folks know what the original trouble was about; but +you ask a Plattville man, to-day, what he thinks of the Cross-Roads and +he'll be mighty apt to say, 'I guess we'll all have to go over there +some time and wipe those hoodlums out.' It's been coming to that a long +time. The work the 'Herald' did has come nearer bringing us even with +Six-Cross-Roads than anything else ever has. Queer, too--a man that's +only lived in Plattville a few years to be settling such an old score +for us. They'll do their best to get him, and if they do there'll be +trouble of an illegal nature. I think our people would go over there +again, but I expect there wouldn't be any ambush this time; and the +pioneers, might rest easier in--" He broke off suddenly and nodded to a +little old man in a buckboard, who was turning off from the road into a +farm lane which led up to a trim cottage with a honeysuckle vine by the +door. "That's Mrs. Wimby's husband," said the judge in an undertone. + +Miss Sherwood observed that "Mrs. Wimby's husband" was remarkable for +the exceeding plaintiveness of his expression. He was a weazened, blank, +pale-eyed little man, with a thin, white mist of neck whisker; his coat +was so large for him that the sleeves were rolled up from his wrists +with several turns, and, as he climbed painfully to the ground to open +the gate of the lane, it needed no perspicuous eye to perceive that his +trousers had been made for a much larger man, for, as his uncertain foot +left the step of his vehicle, one baggy leg of the garment fell down +over his foot, completely concealing his boot and hanging some inches +beneath. A faintly vexed expression crossed his face as he endeavored +to arrange the disorder, but he looked up and returned Briscoe's bow, +sadly, with an air of explaining that he was accustomed to trouble, and +that the trousers had behaved no worse than he expected. + +No more inoffensive or harmless figure than this feeble little old man +could be imagined; yet his was the distinction of having received a +terrible visit from his neighbors of the Cross-Roads. Mrs. Wimby was a +widow, who owned a comfortable farm, and she had refused every offer +of the neighboring ill-eligible bachelors to share it. However, a +vagabonding tinker won her heart, and after their marriage she continued +to be known as "Mrs. Wimby"; for so complete was the bridegroom's +insignificance that it extended to his name, which proved quite +unrememberable, and he was usually called "Widder-Woman Wimby's +Husband," or, more simply, "Mr. Wimby." The bride supplied the needs of +his wardrobe with the garments of her former husband, and, alleging this +proceeding as the cause of their anger, the Cross-Roads raiders, clad +as "White-Caps," broke into the farmhouse one night, looted it, tore the +old man from his bed, and compelling his wife, who was tenderly devoted +to him, to watch, they lashed him with sapling shoots till he was near +to death. A little yellow cur, that had followed his master on his +wanderings, was found licking the old man's wounds, and they deluged the +dog with kerosene and then threw the poor animal upon a bonfire they had +made, and danced around it in heartiest enjoyment. + +The man recovered, but that was no palliation of the offense to the +mind of a hot-eyed young man from the East, who was besieging the county +authorities for redress and writing brimstone and saltpetre for +his paper. The powers of the county proving either lackadaisical or +timorous, he appealed to those of the State, and he went every night to +sleep at a farmhouse, the owner of which had received a warning from +the "White-Caps." And one night it befell that he was rewarded, for the +raiders attempted an entrance. He and the farmer and the former's +sons beat off the marauders and did a satisfactory amount of damage in +return. Two of the "White-Caps" they captured and bound, and others they +recognized. Then the State authorities hearkened to the voice of the +"Herald" and its owner; there were arrests, and in the course of time +there was a trial. Every prisoner proved an alibi, could have proved a +dozen; but the editor of the "Herald," after virtually conducting the +prosecution, went upon the stand and swore to man after man. Eight men +went to the penitentiary on his evidence, five of them for twenty years. +The Plattville Brass Band serenaded the editor of the "Herald" again. + +There were no more raids, and the Six-Cross-Roads men who were left kept +to their hovels, appalled and shaken, but, as time went by and left them +unmolested, they recovered a measure of their hardiness and began to +think on what they should do to the man who had brought misfortune +and terror upon them. For a long time he had been publishing their +threatening letters and warnings in a column which he headed: "Humor of +the Day." + +"Harkless don't understand the Cross-Roads," Briscoe said to Miss +Sherwood as they left the Wimby farm behind; "and then he's like most +of us; hardly any of us realizes that harm's ever going to come to _us_. +Harkless was anxious enough about other people, but----" + +The young lady interrupted him, touching his arm. "Look!" she said, +"Didn't you see a child, a little girl, ahead of us on the road?" + +"I noticed one a minute ago, but she's not there now," answered Briscoe. + +"There was a child walking along the road just ahead, but she turned and +saw us coming, and she disappeared in the most curious way; she seemed +to melt into the weeds at the roadside, across from the elder-bush +yonder." + +The judge pulled in the horses by the elder-bush. "No child here, now," +he said, "but you're right; there certainly was one, just before +you spoke." The young corn was low in the fields, and there was no +hiding-place in sight. + +"I'm very superstitious; I am sure it was an imp," Miss Sherwood said. +"An imp or a very large chameleon; she was exactly the color of the +road." + +"A Cross-Roads imp," said the judge, lifting the reins, "and in that +case we might as well give up. I never set up to be a match for those +people, and the children are as mean as their fathers, and smarter." + +When the buckboard had rattled on a hundred yards or so, a little figure +clad in a tattered cotton gown rose up from the weeds, not ten feet from +where the judge had drawn rein, and continued its march down the road +toward Plattville, capering in the dust and pursuing the buckboard with +malignant gestures till the clatter of the horses was out of hearing, +the vehicle out of sight. + + + +Something over two hours later, as Mr. Martin was putting things to +rights in his domain, the Dry-Goods Emporium, previous to his departure +for the evening's gossip and checkers at the drug-store, he stumbled +over something soft, lying on the floor behind a counter. The thing +rose, and would have evaded him, but he put out his hands and pinioned +it and dragged it to the show-window where the light of the fading +day defined his capture. The capture shrieked and squirmed and fought +earnestly. Grasped by the shoulder he held a lean, fierce-eyed, +undersized girl of fourteen, clad in one ragged cotton garment, unless +the coat of dust she wore over all may be esteemed another. Her cheeks +were sallow, and her brow was already shrewdly lined, and her eyes were +as hypocritical as they were savage. She was very thin and little, but +old Tom's brown face grew a shade nearer white when the light fell upon +her. + +"You're no Plattville girl," he said sharply. + +"You lie!" cried the child. "You lie! I am! You leave me go, will you? +I'm lookin' fer pap and you're a liar!" + +"You crawled in here to sleep, after your seven-mile walk, didn't you?" +Martin went on. + +"You're a liar," she screamed again. + +"Look here," said Martin, slowly, "you go back to Six-Cross-Roads and +tell your folks that if anything happens to a hair of Mr. Harkless's +head every shanty in your town will burn, and your grandfather and +your father and your uncles and your brothers and your cousins and your +second-cousins and your third-cousins will never have the good luck to +see the penitentiary. Reckon you can remember that message? But before +I let you go to carry it, I guess you might as well hand out the paper +they sent you over here with." + +His prisoner fell into a paroxysm of rage, and struck at him. + +"I'll git pap to kill ye," she shrieked. "I don' know nothin' 'bout yer +Six-Cross-Roads, ner no papers, ner yer dam Mister Harkels neither, ner +_you_, ye razor-backed ole devil! Pap'll kill ye; leave me go--leave +me _go_!--Pap'll kill ye; I'll git him to _kill_ ye!" Suddenly her +struggles ceased; her eyes closed; her tense little muscles relaxed and +she drooped toward the floor; the old man shifted his grip to support +her, and in an instant she twisted out of his hands and sprang out of +reach, her eyes shining with triumph and venom. + +"Ya-hay, Mister Razor-back!" she shrilled. "How's that fer hi? Pap'll +kill ye, Sunday. You'll be screechin' in hell in a week, an' we 'ull set +up an' drink our apple-jack an' laff!" Martin pursued her lumberingly, +but she was agile as a monkey, and ran dodging up and down the counters +and mocked him, singing "Gran' mammy Tipsy-Toe," till at last she tired +of the game and darted out of the door, flinging back a hoarse laugh at +him as she went. He followed; but when he reached the street she was +a mere shadow flitting under the courthouse trees. He looked after her +forebodingly, then turned his eyes toward the Palace Hotel. The editor +of the "Herald" was seated under the awning, with his chair tilted back +against a post, gazing dreamily at the murky red afterglow in the west. + +"What's the use of tryin' to bother him with it?" old Tom asked himself. +"He'd only laugh." He noted that young William Todd sat near the editor, +whittling absently. Martin chuckled. "William's turn to-night," he +muttered. "Well, the boys take mighty good care of him." He locked the +doors of the Emporium, tried them, and dropped the keys in his pocket. + +As he crossed the Square to the drug-store, where his cronies awaited +him, he turned again to look at the figure of the musing journalist. "I +hope he'll go out to the judge's," he said, and shook his head, sadly. +"I don't reckon Plattville's any too spry for that young man. Five years +he's be'n here. Well, it's a good thing for us folks, but I guess it +ain't exactly high-life for him." He kicked a stick out of his way +impatiently. "Now, where'd that imp run to?" he grumbled. + +The imp was lying under the court-house steps. When the sound of +Martin's footsteps had passed away, she crept cautiously from her +hiding-place and stole through the ungroomed grass to the fence opposite +the hotel. Here she stretched herself flat in the weeds and took from +underneath the tangled masses of her hair, where it was tied with a +string, a rolled-up, crumpled slip of greasy paper. With this in +her fingers, she lay peering under the fence, her fierce eyes fixed +unwinkingly on Harkless and the youth sitting near him. + +The street ran flat and gray in the slowly gathering dusk, straight +to the western horizon where the sunset embers were strewn in long, +dark-red streaks; the maple trees were clean-cut silhouettes against the +pale rose and pearl tints of the sky above, and a tenderness seemed to +tremble in the air. Harkless often vowed to himself he would watch no +more sunsets in Plattville; he realized that their loveliness lent a +too unhappy tone to the imaginings and introspections upon which he was +thrown by the loneliness of the environment, and he considered that he +had too much time in which to think about himself. For five years +his introspections had monotonously hurled one word at him: "Failure; +Failure! Failure!" He thought the sunsets were making him morbid. Could +he have shared them, that would have been different. + +His long, melancholy face grew longer and more melancholy in the +twilight, while William Todd patiently whittled near by. Plattville +had often discussed the editor's habit of silence, and Mr. Martin had +suggested that possibly the reason Mr. Harkless was such a quiet man was +that there was nobody for him to talk to. His hearers did not agree, for +the population of Carlow County was a thing of pride, being greater +than that of several bordering counties. They did agree, however, that +Harkless's quiet was not unkind, whatever its cause, and that when it +was broken it was usually broken to conspicuous effect. Perhaps it was +because he wrote so much that he hated to talk. + +A bent figure came slowly down the street, and William hailed it +cheerfully: "Evening, Mr. Fisbee." + +"A good evening, Mr. Todd," answered the old man, pausing. "Ah, Mr. +Harkless, I was looking for you." He had not seemed to be looking for +anything beyond the boundaries of his own dreams, but he approached +Harkless, tugging nervously at some papers in his pocket. "I have +completed my notes for our Saturday edition. It was quite easy; there is +much doing." + +"Thank you, Mr. Fisbee," said Harkless, as he took the manuscript. "Have +you finished your paper on the earlier Christian symbolism? I hope the +'Herald' may have the honor of printing it." This was the form they +used. + +"I shall be the recipient of honor, sir," returned Fisbee. "Your kind +offer will speed my work; but I fear, Mr. Harkless, I very much fear, +that your kindness alone prompts it, for, deeply as I desire it, +I cannot truthfully say that my essays appear to increase our +circulation." He made an odd, troubled gesture as he went on: "They do +not seem to read them here, Mr. Harkless, although Mr. Martin assures me +that he carefully peruses my article on Chaldean decoration whenever he +rearranges his exhibition windows, and I bear in mind the clipping from +a Rouen paper you showed me, commenting generously upon the scholarship +of the 'Herald.' But for fifteen years I have tried to improve the art +feeling in Plattville, and I may say that I have worked in the face +of no small discouragement. In fact," (there was a slight quaver in +Fisbee's voice), "I cannot remember that I ever received the slightest +word or token of encouragement till you came, Mr. Harkless. Since then +I have labored with refreshed energy; still, I cannot claim that our +architecture shows a change for the better, and I fear the engravings +upon the walls of our people exhibit no great progress in selection. +And--I--I wish also to say, Mr. Harkless, if you find it necessary to +make some alterations in the form of my reportorial items for Saturday's +issue, I shall perfectly understand, remembering your explanation that +journalism demands it. Good-evening, Mr. Harkless. Good-evening, Mr. +Todd." He plodded on a few paces, then turned, irresolutely. + +"What is it, Fisbee?" asked Harkless. + +Fisbee stood for a moment, as though about to speak, then he smiled +faintly, shook his head, and went his way. Harkless stared after him, +surprised. It suddenly struck him, with a feeling of irritation, that +if Fisbee had spoken it would have been to advise him to call at Judge +Briscoe's. He laughed impatiently at the notion, and, drawing his pencil +and a pad from his pocket, proceeded to injure his eyes in the waning +twilight by the editorial perusal of the items his staff had just +left in his hands. When published, the manuscript came under a flaring +heading, bequeathed by Harkless's predecessor in the chair of the +"Herald," and the alteration of which he felt Plattville would refuse to +sanction: "Happenings of Our City." Below, was printed in smaller type: +"Improvements in the World of Business," and, beneath that, came the +rubric: "Also, the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb." + +The first of Fisbee's items was thus recorded: "It may be noted that +the new sign-board of Mr. H. Miller has been put in place. We cannot but +regret that Mr. Miller did not instruct the painter to confine himself +to a simpler method of lettering." + +"Ah, Fisbee," murmured the editor, reproachfully, "that new sign-board +is almost the only improvement in the World of Business Plattville has +seen this year. I wonder how many times we have used it from the first, +'It is rumored in business circles that Herve Miller contemplates'--to +the exciting, 'Under Way,' and, 'Finishing Touches.' My poor White +Knight, are five years of training wasted on you? Sometimes you make me +fear it. Here is Plattville panting for our story of the hanging of +the sign, and you throw away the climax like that!" He began to write +rapidly, bending low over the pad in the half darkness. His narrative +was an amplification of the interesting information (already possessed +by every inhabitant) that Herve Miller had put up a new sign. After a +paragraph of handsome description, "Herve is always enterprising," wrote +the editor. "This is a move in the right direction. Herve, keep it up." + +He glanced over the other items meditatively, making alterations here +and there. The last two Fisbee had written as follows: + +"There is noticeable in the new (and somewhat incongruous) portico +erected by Solomon Tibbs at the residence of Mr. Henry Tibbs Willetts, +an attempt at rococo decoration which cannot fail to sadden the +passer-by." + +"Miss Sherwood of Rouen, whom Miss Briscoe knew at the Misses Jennings' +finishing-school in New York, is a guest of Judge Briscoe's household." + +Fisbee's items were written in ink; and there was a blank space beneath +the last. At the bottom of the page something had been scribbled in +pencil. Harkless tried vainly to decipher it, but the twilight had +fallen too deep, and the writing was too faint, so he struck a match +and held it close to the paper. The action betokened only a languid +interest, but when he caught sight of the first of the four subscribed +lines he sat up straight in his chair with an ejaculation. At the bottom +of Fisbee's page was written in a dainty, feminine hand, of a type he +had not seen for years: + + "'The time has come,' the Walrus said, + 'To talk of many things: + Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- + And cabbages--and kings--'" + +He put the paper in his pocket, and set off rapidly down the village +street. + +At his departure William Todd looked up quickly; then he got upon his +feet and quietly followed the editor. In the dusk a tattered little +figure rose up from the weeds across the way, and stole noiselessly +after William. He was in his shirt-sleeves, his waistcoat unbuttoned and +loose. On the nearest corner Mr. Todd encountered a fellow-townsman, +who had been pacing up and down in front of a cottage, crooning to a +protestive baby held in his arms. He had paused in his vigil to stare +after Harkless. + +"Whereas he bound for, William?" inquired the man with the baby. + +"Briscoes'," answered William, pursuing his way. + +"I reckoned he would be," commented the other, turning to his wife, who +sat on the doorstep, "I reckoned so when I see that lady at the lecture +last night." + +The woman rose to her feet. "Hi, Bill Todd!" she said. "What you got +onto the back of your vest?" William paused, put his hand behind him and +encountered a paper pinned to the dangling strap of his waistcoat. The +woman ran to him and unpinned the paper. It bore a writing. They took it +to where the yellow lamp-light shone through the open door, and read: + + "der Sir + "FoLer harkls aL yo ples an gaRd him yoR + best venagesn is closteR, harkls not Got 3 das to liv + "We come in Wite." + +"What ye think, William?" asked the man with the baby, anxiously. But +the woman gave the youth a sharp push with her hand. "They never dast to +do it!" she cried. "Never in the world! You hurry, Bill Todd. Don't you +leave him out of your sight one second." + + + + +CHAPTER V. AT THE PASTURE BARS: ELDER-BUSHES MAY HAVE STINGS + +The street upon which the Palace Hotel fronted formed the south side of +the Square and ran west to the edge of the town, where it turned to the +south for a quarter of a mile or more, then bent to the west again. Some +distance from this second turn, there stood, fronting close on the road, +a large brick house, the most pretentious mansion in Carlow County. +And yet it was a homelike place, with its red-brick walls embowered in +masses of cool Virginia creeper, and a comfortable veranda crossing the +broad front, while half a hundred stalwart sentinels of elm and beech +and poplar stood guard around it. The front walk was bordered by +geraniums and hollyhocks; and honeysuckle climbed the pillars of the +porch. Behind the house there was a shady little orchard; and, back of +the orchard, an old-fashioned, very fragrant rose-garden, divided by a +long grape arbor, extended to the shallow waters of a wandering creek; +and on the bank a rustic seat was placed, beneath the sycamores. + +From the first bend of the road, where it left the town and became +(after some indecision) a country highway--called the pike--rather than +a proud city boulevard, a pathway led through the fields to end at some +pasture bars opposite the brick house. + +John Harkless was leaning on the pasture bars. The stars were wan, and +the full moon shone over the fields. Meadows and woodlands lay quiet +under the old, sweet marvel of a June night. In the wide monotony of +the flat lands, there sometimes comes a feeling that the whole earth is +stretched out before one. To-night it seemed to lie so, in the pathos of +silent beauty, all passive and still; yet breathing an antique message, +sad, mysterious, reassuring. But there had come a divine melody adrift +on the air. Through the open windows it floated. Indoors some one struck +a peal of silver chords, like a harp touched by a lover, and a woman's +voice was lifted. John Harkless leaned on the pasture bars and listened +with upraised head and parted lips. + +"To thy chamber window roving, love hath led my feet." + +The Lord sent manna to the children of Israel in the wilderness. +Harkless had been five years in Plattville, and a woman's voice singing +Schubert's serenade came to him at last as he stood by the pasture bars +of Jones's field and listened and rested his dazzled eyes on the big, +white face of the moon. + +How long had it been since he had heard a song, or any discourse of +music other than that furnished by the Plattville Band--not that he had +not taste for a brass band! But music that he loved always gave him an +ache of delight and the twinge of reminiscences of old, gay days gone +forever. To-night his memory leaped to the last day of a June gone seven +years; to a morning when the little estuary waves twinkled in the bright +sun about the boat in which he sat, the trim launch that brought a +cheery party ashore from their schooner to the Casino landing at Winter +Harbor, far up on the Maine coast. + +It was the happiest of those last irresponsible days before he struck +into his work in the world and became a failure. To-night he saw the +picture as plainly as if it were yesterday; no reminiscence had risen so +keenly before his eyes for years: pretty Mrs. Van Skuyt sitting beside +him--pretty Mrs. Van Skuyt and her roses! What had become of her? He +saw the crowd of friends waiting on the pier for their arrival, and +the dozen or so emblazoned classmates (it was in the time of brilliant +flannels) who suddenly sent up a volley of college cheers in his +honor--how plainly the dear, old, young faces rose up before him +to-night, the men from whose lives he had slipped! Dearest and jolliest +of the faces was that of Tom Meredith, clubmate, classmate, his closest +friend, the thin, red-headed third baseman; he could see Tom's mouth +opened at least a yard, it seemed, such was his frantic vociferousness. +Again and again the cheers rang out, "Harkless! Harkless!" on the end of +them. In those days everybody (particularly his classmates) thought he +would be minister to England in a few years, and the orchestra on the +Casino porch was playing "The Conquering Hero," in his honor, and at the +behest of Tom Meredith, he knew. + +There were other pretty ladies besides Mrs. Van Skuyt in the launch-load +from the yacht, but, as they touched the pier, pretty girls, or pretty +women, or jovial gentlemen, all were overlooked in the wild scramble the +college men made for their hero. They haled him forth, set him on high, +bore him on their shoulders, shouting "Skal to the Viking!" and carried +him up the wooded bluff to the Casino. He heard Mrs. Van Skuyt say, +"Oh, we're used to it; we've put in at several other places where he +had friends!" He struggled manfully to be set down, but his triumphal +procession swept on. He heard bystanders telling each other, "It's that +young Harkless, 'the Great Harkless,' they're all so mad about"; and +while it pleased him a little to hear such things, they always made him +laugh a great deal. He had never understood his popularity: he had +been chief editor of the university daily, and he had done a little in +athletics, and the rest of his distinction lay in college offices his +mates had heaped upon him without his being able to comprehend why they +did it. And yet, somehow, and in spite of himself, they had convinced +him that the world was his oyster; that it would open for him at a +touch. He could not help seeing how the Freshmen looked at him, how the +Sophomores jumped off the narrow campus walks to let him pass; he could +not help knowing that he was the great man of his time, so that "The +Great Harkless" came to be one of the traditions of the university. He +remembered the wild progress they made for him up the slope that morning +at Winter Harbor, how the people baked on, and laughed, and clapped +their hands. But at the veranda edge he had noticed a little form +disappearing around a corner of the building; a young girl running away +as fast as she could. + +"See there!" he said, as the tribe set him down, "You have frightened +the populace." And Tom Meredith stopped shouting long enough to answer, +"It's my little cousin, overcome with emotion. She's been counting the +hours till you came--been hearing of you from me and others for a good +while; and hasn't been able to talk or think of anything else. She's +only fifteen, and the crucial moment is too much for her--the Great +Harkless has arrived, and she has fled." + +He remembered other incidents of his greatness, of the glory that now +struck him as rarely comical; he hoped he hadn't taken it too seriously +then, in the flush of his youth. Maybe, after all, he had been a, +big-headed boy, but he must have bottled up his conceit tightly enough, +or the other boys would have detected it and abhorred him. He was +inclined to believe that he had not been very much set up by the pomp +they made for him. At all events, that day at Winter Harbor had been +beautiful, full of the laughter of friends and music; for there was a +musicale at the Casino in the afternoon. + +But the present hour grew on him as he leaned on the pasture bars, and +suddenly his memories sped; and the voice that was singing Schubert's +serenade across the way touched him with the urgent, personal appeal +that a present beauty always had for him. It was a soprano; and without +tremolo, yet came to his ear with a certain tremulous sweetness; it was +soft and slender, but the listener knew it could be lifted with fullness +and power if the singer would. It spoke only of the song, yet the +listener thought of the singer. Under the moon thoughts run into dreams, +and he dreamed that the owner of the voice, she who quoted "The Walrus +and the Carpenter" on Fisbee's notes, was one to laugh with you and weep +with you; yet her laughter would be tempered with sorrow, and her tears +with laughter. + +When the song was ended, he struck the rail he leaned upon a sharp blow +with his open hand. There swept over him a feeling that he had stood +precisely where he stood now, on such a night, a thousand years ago, had +heard that voice and that song, had listened and been moved by the song, +and the night, just as he was moved now. + +He had long known himself for a sentimentalist; he had almost given up +trying to cure himself. And he knew himself for a born lover; he had +always been in love with some one. In his earlier youth his affections +had been so constantly inconstant that he finally came to settle +with his self-respect by recognizing in himself a fine constancy that +worshipped one woman always--it was only the shifting image of her that +changed! Somewhere (he dreamed, whimsically indulgent of the fancy; yet +mocking himself for it) there was a girl whom he had never seen, who +waited till he should come. She was Everything. Until he found her, +he could not help adoring others who possessed little pieces and +suggestions of her--her brilliancy, her courage, her short upper lip, +"like a curled roseleaf," or her dear voice, or her pure profile. He had +no recollection of any lady who had quite her eyes. + +He had never passed a lovely stranger on the street, in the old days, +without a thrill of delight and warmth. If he never saw her again, and +the vision only lasted the time it takes a lady to cross the sidewalk +from a shop door to a carriage, he was always a little in love with her, +because she bore about her, somewhere, as did every pretty girl he ever +saw, a suggestion of the far-away divinity. One does not pass lovely +strangers in the streets of Plattville. Miss Briscoe was pretty, but not +at all in the way that Harkless dreamed. For five years the lover in +him that had loved so often had been starved of all but dreams. Only at +twilight and dusk in the summer, when, strolling, he caught sight of a +woman's skirt, far up the village street--half-outlined in the +darkness under the cathedral arch of meeting branches--this romancer +of petticoats could sigh a true lover's sigh, and, if he kept enough +distance between, fly a yearning fancy that his lady wandered there. + +Ever since his university days the image of her had been growing +more and more distinct. He had completely settled his mind as to her +appearance and her voice. She was tall, almost too tall, he was sure of +that; and out of his consciousness there had grown a sweet and vivacious +young face that he knew was hers. Her hair was light-brown with gold +lustres (he reveled in the gold lustres, on the proper theory that when +your fancy is painting a picture you may as well go in for the whole +thing and make it sumptuous), and her eyes were gray. They were very +earnest, and yet they sparkled and laughed to him companionably; and +sometimes he had smiled back upon her. The Undine danced before him +through the lonely years, on fair nights in his walks, and came to sit +by his fire on winter evenings when he stared alone at the embers. + +And to-night, here in Plattville, he heard a voice he had waited for +long, one that his fickle memory told him he had never heard before. +But, listening, he knew better--he had heard it long ago, though when +and how, he did not know, as rich and true, and ineffably tender as now. +He threw a sop to his common sense. "Miss Sherwood is a little thing" +(the image was so surely tall) "with a bumpy forehead and spectacles," +he said to himself, "or else a provincial young lady with big eyes +to pose at you." Then he felt the ridiculousness of looking after his +common sense on a moonlight night in June; also, he knew that he lied. + +The song had ceased, but the musician lingered, and the keys were +touched to plaintive harmonies new to him. He had come to Plattville +before "Cavalleria Rusticana" was sung at Rome, and now, entranced, he +heard the "Intermezzo" for the first time. Listening to this, he feared +to move lest he should wake from a summer-night's dream. + +A ragged little shadow flitted down the path behind him, and from a +solitary apple-tree, standing like a lonely ghost in the middle of +the field, came the _woo_ of a screech owl--twice. It was +answered--twice--from a clump of elder-bushes that grew in a +fence-corner fifty yards west of the pasture bars. Then the barrel of a +squirrel rifle issued, lifted out of the white elder-blossoms, and +lay along the fence. The music in the house across the way ceased, and +Harkless saw two white dresses come out through the long parlor windows +to the veranda. + +"It will be cooler out here," came the voice of the singer clearly +through the quiet. "What a night!" + +John vaulted the bars and started to cross the road. They saw him from +the veranda, and Miss Briscoe called to him in welcome. As his tall +figure stood out plainly in the bright light against the white dust, +a streak of fire leaped from the elder-blossoms and there rang out the +sharp report of a rifle. There were two screams from the veranda. One +white figure ran into the house. The other, a little one with a gauzy +wrap streaming behind, came flying out into the moonlight--straight to +Harkless. There was a second report; the rifle-shot was answered by +a revolver. William Todd had risen up, apparently from nowhere, and, +kneeling by the pasture bars, fired at the flash of the rifle. + +"Jump fer the shadder, Mr. Harkless," he shouted; "he's in them elders," +and then: "Fer God's sake, comeback!" + +Empty-handed as he was, the editor dashed for the treacherous elder-bush +as fast as his long legs could carry him; but, before he had taken six +strides, a hand clutched his sleeve, and a girl's voice quavered from +close behind him: + +"Don't run like that, Mr. Harkless; I can't keep up!" He wheeled about, +and confronted a vision, a dainty little figure about five feet high, a +flushed and lovely face, hair and draperies disarranged and flying. He +stamped his foot with rage. "Get back in the house!" he cried. + +"You mustn't go," she panted. "It's the only way to stop you." + +"Go back to the house!" he shouted, savagely. + +"Will you come?" + +"Fer God's sake," cried William Todd, "come back! Keep out of the road." +He was emptying his revolver at the clump of elder, the uproar of his +firing blasting the night. Some one screamed from the house: + +"Helen! Helen!" + +John seized the girl's wrists roughly; her gray eyes flashed into his +defiantly. "Will you go?" he roared. + +"No!" + +He dropped her wrists, caught her up in his arms as if she had been a +kitten, and leaped into the shadow of the trees that leaned over the +road from the yard. The rifle rang out again, and the little ball +whistled venomously overhead. Harkless ran along the fence and turned in +at the gate. + +A loose strand of the girl's hair blew across his cheek, and in the moon +her head shone with gold. She had light-brown hair and gray eyes and a +short upper lip like a curled rose-leaf. He set her down on the veranda +steps. Both of them laughed wildly. + +"But you came with me!" she gasped triumphantly. + +"I always thought you were tall," he answered; and there was afterward a +time when he had to agree that this was a somewhat vague reply. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. JUNE + +Judge Briscoe smiled grimly and leaned on his shot-gun in the moonlight +by the veranda. He and William Todd had been trampling down the +elder-bushes, and returning to the house, found Minnie alone on the +porch. "Safe?" he said to his daughter, who turned an anxious face upon +him. "They'll be safe enough now, and in our garden." + +"Maybe I oughtn't to have let them go," she returned, nervously. + +"Pooh! They're all right; that scalawag's half-way to Six-Cross-Roads by +this time, isn't he, William?" + +"He tuck up the fence like a scared rabbit," Mr. Todd responded, looking +into his hat to avoid meeting the eyes of the lady. "I didn't have no +call to toller, and he knowed how to run, I reckon. Time Mr. Harkless +come out the yard again, he was near out o' sight, and we see him take +across the road to the wedge-woods, near half-a-mile up. Somebody else +with him then--looked like a kid. Must 'a' cut acrost the field to join +him. They're fur enough towards home by this." + +"Did Miss Helen shake hands with you four or five times?" asked Briscoe, +chuckling. + +"No. Why?" + +"Because Harkless did. My hand aches, and I guess William's does, too; +he nearly shook our arms off when we told him he'd been a fool. Seemed +to do him good. I told him he ought to hire somebody to take a shot at +him every morning before breakfast--not that it's any joking matter," +the old gentleman finished, thoughtfully. + +"I should say not," said William, with a deep frown and a jerk of his +head toward the rear of the house. "_He_ jokes about it enough. Wouldn't +even promise to carry a gun after this. Said he wouldn't know how to use +it. Never shot one off since he was a boy, on the Fourth of July. This +is the third time he's be'n shot at this year, but he says the others +was at a--a--what'd he call it?" + +"'A merely complimentary range,'" Briscoe supplied. He handed William a +cigar and bit the end off another himself. "Minnie, you better go in the +house and read, I expect--unless you want to go down the creek and join +those folks." + +"_Me_!" she responded. "I know when to stay away, I guess. Do go and put +that terrible gun up." + +"No," said Briscoe, lighting his cigar, deliberately. "It's all safe; +there's no question of that; but maybe William and I better go out and +take a smoke in the orchard as long as they stay down at the creek." + +In the garden, shafts of white light pierced the bordering trees and +fell where June roses lifted their heads to breathe the mild night +breeze, and here, through summer spells, the editor of the "Herald" and +the lady who had run to him at the pasture bars strolled down a path +trembling with shadows to where the shallow creek tinkled over the +pebbles. They walked slowly, with an air of being well-accustomed +friends and comrades, and for some reason it did not strike either of +them as unnatural or extraordinary. They came to a bench on the bank, +and he made a great fuss dusting the seat for her with his black slouch +hat. Then he regretted the hat--it was a shabby old hat of a Carlow +County fashion. + +It was a long bench, and he seated himself rather remotely toward the +end opposite her, suddenly realizing that he had walked very close to +her, coming down the narrow garden path. Neither knew that neither had +spoken since they left the veranda; and it had taken them a long time to +come through the little orchard and the garden. She rested her chin +on her hand, leaning forward and looking steadily at the creek. Her +laughter had quite gone; her attitude seemed a little wistful and a +little sad. He noted that her hair curled over her brow in a way he had +not pictured in the lady of his dreams; this was so much lovelier. He +did not care for tall girls; he had not cared for them for almost +half an hour. It was so much more beautiful to be dainty and small and +piquant. He had no notion that he was sighing in a way that would have +put a furnace to shame, but he turned his eyes from her because he +feared that if he looked longer he might blurt out some speech about +her beauty. His glance rested on the bank; but its diameter included +the edge of her white skirt and the tip of a little, white, high-heeled +slipper that peeped out beneath it; and he had to look away from that, +too, to keep from telling her that he meant to advocate a law compelling +all women to wear crisp, white gowns and white slippers on moonlight +nights. + +She picked a long spear of grass from the turf before her, twisted it +absently in her fingers, then turned to him slowly. Her lips parted +as if to speak. Then she turned away again. The action was so odd, and +somehow, as she did it, so adorable, and the preserved silence was such +a bond between them, that for his life he could not have helped moving +half-way up the bench toward her. + +"What is it?" he asked; and he spoke in a whisper he might have used at +the bedside of a dying friend. He would not have laughed if he had known +he did so. She twisted the spear of grass into a little ball and threw +it at a stone in the water before she answered. + +"Do you know, Mr. Harkless, you and I haven't 'met,' have we? Didn't we +forget to be presented to each other?" + +"I beg your pardon. Miss Sherwood. In the perturbation of comedy I +forgot." + +"It was melodrama, wasn't it?" she said. He laughed, but she shook her +head. + +"Comedy," he answered, "except your part of it, which you shouldn't have +done. It was not arranged in honor of 'visiting ladies.' But you +mustn't think me a comedian. Truly, I didn't plan it. My friend from +Six-Cross-Roads must be given the credit of devising the scene-though +you divined it!" + +"It was a little too picturesque, I think. I know about Six-Cross-Roads. +Please tell me what you mean to do." + +"Nothing. What should I?" + +"You mean that you will keep on letting them shoot at you, until +they--until you--" She struck the bench angrily with her hand. + +"There's no summer theatre in Six-Cross-Roads; there's not even a +church. Why shouldn't they?" he asked gravely. "During the long and +tedious evenings it cheers the poor Cross-Reader's soul to drop over +here and take a shot at me. It whiles away dull care for him, and he has +the additional exercise of running all the way home." + +"Ah!" she cried indignantly, "they told me you always answered like +this!" + +"Well, you see the Cross-Roads efforts have proved so purely hygienic +for me. As a patriot I have sometimes felt extreme mortification that +such bad marksmanship should exist in the county, but I console +myself with the thought that their best shots are unhappily in the +penitentiary." + +"There are many left. Can't you understand that they will organize again +and come in a body, as they did before you broke them up? And then, if +they come on a night when they know you are wandering out of town----" + +"You have not the advantage of an intimate study of the most exclusive +people of the Cross-Roads, Miss Sherwood. There are about twenty +gentlemen who remain in that neighborhood while their relatives sojourn +under discipline. If you had the entree over there, you would understand +that these twenty could not gather themselves into a company and march +the seven miles without physical debate in the ranks. They are not +precisely amiable people, even amongst themselves. They would quarrel +and shoot each other to pieces long before they got here." + +"But they worked in a company once." + +"Never for seven miles. Four miles was their radius. Five would see them +all dead." + +She struck the bench again. "Oh, you laugh at me! You make a joke of +your own life and death, and laugh at everything! Have five years of +Plattville taught you to do that?" + +"I laugh only at taking the poor Cross-Roaders too seriously. I don't +laugh at your running into fire to help a fellow-mortal." + +"I knew there wasn't any risk. I knew he had to stop to load before he +shot again." + +"He did shoot again. If I had known you before to-night--I--" His tone +changed and he spoke gravely. "I am at your feet in worship of your +philanthropy. It's so much finer to risk your life for a stranger than +for a friend." + +"That is rather a man's point of view, isn't it?" + +"You risked yours for a man you had never seen before." + +"Oh, no! I saw you at the lecture; I heard you introduce the Honorable +Mr. Halloway." + +"Then I don't understand your wishing to save me." + +She smiled unwillingly, and turned her gray eyes upon him with troubled +sunniness, and, under the kindness of her regard, he set a watch upon +his lips, though he knew it might not avail him. He had driveled along +respectably so far, he thought, but he had the sentimental longings of +years, starved of expression, culminating in his heart. She continued to +look at him, wistfully, searchingly, gently. Then her eyes traveled over +his big frame from his shoes (a patch of moonlight fell on them; they +were dusty; he drew them under the bench with a shudder) to his broad +shoulders (he shook the stoop out of them). She stretched her small +hands toward him in contrast, and broke into the most delicious low +laughter in the world. At this sound he knew the watch on his lips was +worthless. It was a question of minutes till he should present himself +to her eyes as a sentimental and susceptible imbecile. He knew it. He +was in wild spirits. + +"Could you realize that one of your dangers might be a shaking?" she +cried. "Is your seriousness a lost art?" Her laughter ceased suddenly. +"Ah, no. I understand. Thiers said the French laugh always, in order not +to weep. I haven't lived here five years. I should laugh too, if I were +you." + +"Look at the moon," he responded. "We Plattvillains own that with the +best of metropolitans, and, for my part, I see more of it here. You do +not appreciate us. We have large landscapes in the heart of the city, +and what other capital possesses advantages like that? Next winter the +railway station is to have a new stove for the waiting-room. Heaven +itself is one of our suburbs--it is so close that all one has to do is +to die. You insist upon my being French, you see, and I know you +are fond of nonsense. How did you happen to put 'The Walrus and the +Carpenter' at the bottom of a page of Fisbee's notes?" + +"Was it? How were you sure it was I?" + +"In Carlow County!" + +"He might have written it himself." + +"Fisbee has never in his life read anything lighter than cuneiform +inscriptions." + +"Miss Briscoe----" + +"She doesn't read Lewis Carroll; and it was not her hand. What made you +write it on Fisbee's manuscript?" + +"He was with us this afternoon, and I teased him a little about your +heading. 'Business and the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb,' isn't it? +And he said it had always troubled him, but that you thought it good. +So do I. He asked me if I could think of anything that you might like +better, to put in place of it, and I wrote, 'The time has come,' because +it was the only thing I could think of that was as appropriate and as +fetching as your headlines. He was perfectly dear about it. He was so +serious; he said he feared it wouldn't be acceptable. I didn't notice +that the paper he handed me to write on was part of his notes, nor +did he, I think. Afterward, he put it back in his pocket. It wasn't a +message." + +"I'm not so sure he did not notice. He is very wise. Do you know, +somehow, I have the impression that the old fellow wanted me to meet +you." + +"How dear and good of him!" She spoke earnestly, and her face was +suffused with a warm light. There was no doubt about her meaning what +she said. + +"It was," John answered, unsteadily. "He knew how great was my need of a +few moments' companionableness with--with----" + +"No," she interrupted. "I meant dear and good to me, because I think he +was thinking of me, and it was for my sake he wanted us to meet." + +It would have been hard to convince a woman, if she had overheard this +speech, that Miss Sherwood's humility was not the calculated affectation +of a coquette. Sometimes a man's unsuspicion is wiser, and Harkless knew +that she was not flirting with him. In addition, he was not a fatuous +man; he did not extend the implication of her words nearly so far as she +would have had him. + +"But I had met you," said he, "long ago." + +"What!" she cried, and her eyes danced. "You actually remember?" + +"Yes; do you?" he answered. "I stood in Jones's field and heard you +singing, and I remembered. It was a long time since I had heard you +sing: + + "'I was a ruffler of Flanders, + And fought for a florin's hire. + You were the dame of my captain + And sang to my heart's desire.' + +"But that is the balladist's notion. The truth is that you were a lady +at the Court of Clovis, and I was a heathen captive. I heard you sing a +Christian hymn--and asked for baptism." By a great effort he managed to +look as if he did not mean it. + +But she did not seem over-pleased with his fancy, for, the surprise +fading from her face, "Oh, that was the way you remembered!" she said. + +"Perhaps it was not that way alone. You won't despise me for being +mawkish to-night?" he asked. "I haven't had the chance for so long." + +The night air wrapped them warmly, and the balm of the little breezes +that stirred the foliage around them was the smell of damask roses from +the garden. The creek tinkled over the pebbles at their feet, and a +drowsy bird, half-wakened by the moon, crooned languorously in the +sycamores. The girl looked out at the flashing water through downcast +lashes. "Is it because it is so transient that beauty is pathetic?" she +said; "because we can never come back to it in quite the same way? I am +a sentimental girl. If you are born so, it is never entirely teased +out of you, is it? Besides, to-night is all a dream. It isn't real, you +know. You couldn't be mawkish." + +Her tone was gentle as a caress, and it made him tingle to his +finger-tips. "How do you know?" he asked in a low voice. + +"I just know. Do you think I'm very 'bold and forward'?" she said, +dreamily. + +"It was your song I wanted to be sentimental about. I am like one 'who +through long days of toil'--only that doesn't quite apply--'and nights +devoid of ease'--but I can't claim that one doesn't sleep well here; it +is Plattville's specialty--like one who + + "'Still heard in his soul the music + Of wonderful melodies.'" + +"Those blessed old lines!" she said. "Once a thing is music or poetry, +all the hand-organs and elocutionists in the world cannot ruin it, can +they? Yes; to live here, out of the world, giving up the world, doing +good and working for others, working for a community as you do----" + +"I am not quite shameless," he interrupted, smilingly. "I was given a +life sentence for incompetency, and I've served five years of it, which +have been made much happier than my deserts." + +"No," she persisted, "that is your way of talking of yourself; I know +you would always 'run yourself down,' if one paid any attention to it. +But to give up the world, to drop out of it without regret, to come +here and do what you have done, and to live the life that must be so +desperately dry and dull for a man of your sort, and yet to have the +kind of heart that makes wonderful melodies sing in itself--oh!" she +cried, "I say that is fine!" + +"You do not understand," he returned, sadly, wishing, before her, to +be unmercifully just to himself. "I came here because I couldn't make +a living anywhere else. And the 'wonderful melodies'--I have known you +only one evening--and the melodies--" He rose to his feet and took a few +steps toward the garden. "Come," he said. "Let me take you back. Let us +go before I--" he finished with a helpless laugh. + +She stood by the bench, one hand resting on it; she stood all in the +tremulant shadow. She moved one step toward him, and a single, long +sliver of light pierced the sycamores and fell upon her head. He gasped. + +"What was it about the melodies?" she said. + +"Nothing! I don't know how to thank you for this evening that you have +given me. I--I suppose you are leaving to-morrow. No one ever stays +here.--I----" + +"What about the melodies?" + +He gave it up. "The moon makes people insane!" he cried. + +"If that is true," she returned, "then you need not be more afraid than +I, because 'people' is plural. What were you saying about----" + +"I _had_ heard them--in my heart. When I heard your voice to-night, I +knew that it was you who sang them there--had been singing them for me +always." + +"So!" she cried, gaily. "All that debate about a pretty speech!" Then, +sinking before him in a deep courtesy, "I am beholden to you," she said. +"Do you think that no man ever made a little flattery for me before +to-night?" + +At the edge of the orchard, where they could keep an unseen watch on +the garden and the bank of the creek. Judge Briscoe and Mr. Todd were +ensconced under an apple-tree, the former still armed with his shot-gun. +When the two young people got up from their bench, the two men rose +hastily, and then sauntered slowly toward them. When they met, Harkless +shook each of them cordially by the hand, without seeming to know it. + +"We were coming to look for you," explained the judge. "William was +afraid to go home alone; thought some one might take him for Mr. +Harkless and shoot him before he got into town. Can you come out with +young Willetts in the morning, Harkless," he went on, "and go with the +ladies to see the parade? And Minnie wants you to stay to dinner and go +to the show with them in the afternoon." + +Harkless seized his hand and shook it fervently, and then laughed +heartily, as he accepted the invitation. + +At the gate, Miss Sherwood extended her hand to him and said politely, +and with some flavor of mockery: "Good-night, Mr. Harkless. I do not +leave to-morrow. I am very glad to have met you." + +"We are going to keep her all summer if we can," said Minnie, weaving +her arm about her friend's waist. "You'll come in the morning?" + +"Good-night, Miss Sherwood," he returned, hilariously. "It has been such +a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for saving my life. It was +very good of you indeed. Yes, in the morning. Good-night--good-night." +He shook hands with them all again, including Mr. Todd, who was going +with him. + +He laughed most of the way home, and Mr. Todd walked at his side in +amazement. The Herald Building was a decrepit frame structure on Main +Street; it had once been a small warehouse and was now sadly in need of +paint. Closely adjoining it, in a large, blank-looking yard, stood a low +brick cottage, over which the second story of the warehouse leaned in an +effect of tipsy affection that had reminded Harkless, when he first saw +it, of an old Sunday-school book wood-cut of an inebriated parent under +convoy of a devoted child. The title to these two buildings and the +blank yard had been included in the purchase of the "Herald"; and the +cottage was Harkless's home. + +There was a light burning upstairs in the "Herald" office. From the +street a broad, tumble-down stairway ran up on the outside of the +building to the second floor, and at the stairway railing John turned +and shook his companion warmly by the hand. + +"Good-night, William," he said. "It was plucky of you to join in that +muss, to-night. I shan't forget it." + +"I jest happened to come along," replied the other, drowsily; then, with +a portentous yawn, he asked: "Ain't ye goin' to bed?" + +"No; Parker wouldn't allow it." + +"Well," observed William, with another yawn, which bade fair to expose +the veritable soul of him, "I d'know how ye stand it. It's closte on +eleven o'clock. Good-night." + +John went up the steps, singing aloud: + + "For to-night we'll merry, merry be, + For to-night we'll merry, merry be," + +and stopped on the sagging platform at the top of the stairs and gave +the moon good-night with a wave of the hand and friendly laughter. At +that it suddenly struck him that he was twenty-nine years of age; +that he had laughed a great deal that evening; that he had laughed and +laughed over things not in the least humorous, like an excited schoolboy +making his first formal call; that he had shaken hands with Miss Briscoe +when he left her, as if he should never see her again; that he had taken +Miss Sherwood's hand twice in one very temporary parting; that he had +shaken the judge's hand five times, and William's four! + +"Idiot!" he cried. "What has happened to me?" Then he shook his fist at +the moon and went in to work--he thought. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. MORNING: "SOME IN RAGS AND SOME IN TAGS AND SOME IN VELVET +GOWNS" + +The bright sun of circus-day shone into Harkless's window, and he awoke +to find himself smiling. For a little while he lay content, drowsily +wondering why he smiled, only knowing that there was something new. +It was thus, as a boy, he had wakened on his birthday mornings, or on +Christmas, or on the Fourth of July, drifting happily out of pleasant +dreams into the consciousness of long-awaited delights that had come +true, yet lying only half-awake in a cheerful borderland, leaving +happiness undefined. + +The morning breeze was fluttering at his window blind; a honeysuckle +vine tapped lightly on the pane. Birds were trilling, warbling, +whistling. From the street came the rumbling of wagons, merry cries of +greeting, and the barking of dogs. What was it made him feel so young +and strong and light-hearted? The breeze brought him the smell of +June roses, fresh and sweet with dew, and then he knew why he had come +smiling from his dreams. He would go a holiday-making. With that he +leaped out of bed, and shouted loudly: "Zen! Hello, Xenophon!" + +In answer, an ancient, very black darky put his head in at the door, his +warped and wrinkled visage showing under his grizzled hair like charred +paper in a fall of pine ashes. He said: "Good-mawn', suh. Yessuh. Hit's +done pump' full. Good-mawn', suh." + +A few moments later, the colored man, seated on the front steps of the +cottage, heard a mighty splashing within, while the rafters rang with +stentorian song: + + "He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + To tie up my bonny brown hair + + "Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Johnnie's so long at the Fair!" + +At the sound of this complaint, delivered in a manly voice, the +listener's jaw dropped, and his mouth opened and stayed open. "_Him!_" +he muttered, faintly. "_Singin'_!" + + "Well, the old Triangle knew the music of our tread; + How the peaceful Seminole would tremble in his bed!" + +sang the editor. "I dunno huccome it," exclaimed the old man, "an' dat +ain' hyer ner dar; but, bless Gawd! de young man' happy!" A thought +struck him suddenly, and he scratched his head. "Maybe he goin' away," +he said, querulously. "What become o' ole Zen?" The splashing ceased, +but not the voice, which struck into a noble marching chorus. "Oh, my +Lawd," said the colored man, "I pray you listen at dat!" + + "Soldiers marching up the street, + They keep the time; + They look sublime! + Hear them play Die Wacht am Rhein! + They call them Schneider's Band. + Tra la la la, la!" + +The length of Main Street and all the Square resounded with the rattle +of vehicles of every kind. Since earliest dawn they had been pouring +into the village, a long procession on every country road. There were +great red and blue farm wagons, drawn by splendid Clydesdales; the +elders of the family on the front seat and on boards laid from side to +side in front, or on chairs placed close behind, while, in the deep beds +back of these, children tumbled in the straw, or peeped over the sides, +rosy-cheeked and laughing, eyes alight with blissful anticipations. +There were more pretentious two-seated cut-unders and stout buckboards, +loaded down with merrymakers, four on a seat meant for two; there were +rattle-trap phaetons and comfortable carry-alls drawn by steady spans; +and, now and then, mule teams bringing happy negroes, ready to squander +all on the first Georgia watermelons and cider. Every vehicle contained +heaping baskets of good things to eat (the previous night had been a +woeful Bartholomew for Carlow chickens) and underneath, where the dogs +paced faithfully, swung buckets and fodder for the horses, while colts +innumerable trotted dose to the maternal flanks, viewing the world with +their big, new eyes in frisky surprise. + +Here and there the trim side-bar buggy of some prosperous farmer's +son, escorting his sweetheart, flashed along the road, the young mare +stepping out in pride of blood to pass the line of wagons, the youth who +held the reins, resplendent in Sunday best and even better, his scorched +brown face glowing with a fine belief in the superiority of both his +steed and his lady; the latter beaming out upon life and rejoicing in +the light-blue ribbons on her hat, the light-blue ribbon around her +waist, the light-blue, silk half-mittens on her hands, and the beautiful +red coral necklace about her neck and the red coral buttons that +fastened her gown in the back. + +The air was full of exhilaration; everybody was laughing and shouting +and calling greetings; for Carlow County was turning out, and from far +and near the country people came; nay, from over the county line, clouds +of dust rising from every thoroughfare and highway, and sweeping into +town to herald their coming. + +Dibb Zane, the "sprinkling contractor," had been at work with the town +water-cart since the morning stars were bright, but he might as well +have watered the streets with his tears, which, indeed, when the farmers +began to come in, bringing their cyclones of dust, he drew nigh unto, +after a spell of profanity as futile as his cart. + + "Tief wie das Meer soll deine Liebe sein," + +hummed the editor in the cottage. His song had taken on a reflective +tone as that of one who cons a problem, or musically ponders which card +to play. He was kneeling before an old trunk in his bedchamber. From +one compartment he took a neatly folded pair of duck trousers and a +light-gray tweed coat; from another, a straw hat with a ribbon of bright +colors. They had lain in the trunk a long time undisturbed; and he +examined them musingly. He shook the coat and brushed it; then he laid +the garments upon his bed, and proceeded to shave himself carefully, +after which he donned the white trousers, the gray coat, and, rummaging +in the trunk again, found a gay pink cravat, which he fastened about his +tall collar (also a resurrection from the trunk) with a pearl pin. +After that he had a long, solemn time arranging his hair with a pair +of brushes. When at last he was suited, and his dressing completed, he +sallied forth to breakfast. + +Xenophon stared after him as he went out of the gate whistling heartily. +The old darky lifted his hands, palms outward. + +"Lan' name, who dat!" he exclaimed aloud. "Who dat in dem pan-jingeries? +He jine' de circus?" His hands fell upon his knees, and he got to his +feet pneumatically, shaking his head with foreboding. "Honey, honey, +hit' baid luck, baid luck sing 'fo' breakfus. Trouble 'fo' de day be +done. Trouble, honey, gre't trouble. Baid luck, baid luck!" + +Along the Square the passing of the editor in his cool equipment evoked +some gasps of astonishment; and Mr. Tibbs and his sister rushed from the +postoffice to stare after him. + +"He looks just beautiful, Solomon," said Miss Tibbs. + +"But what's the name for them kind of clothes?" inquired her brother. +"'Seems to me there's a special way of callin' 'em. 'Seems as if I see +a picture of 'em, somewheres. Wasn't it on the cover of that there +long-tennis box we bought and put in the window, and the country people +thought it was a seining outfit?" + +"It was a game, the catalogue said," observed Miss Selina. "Wasn't it?" + +"It was a mighty pore investment," the postmaster answered. + +As Harkless approached the hotel, a decrepit old man, in a vast straw +hat and a linen duster much too large for him, came haltingly forward +to meet him. He was Widow-Woman Wimby's husband. And, as did every one +else, he spoke of his wife by the name of her former martial companion. + +"Be'n a-lookin' fer you, Mr. Harkless," he said in a shaking spindle of +a voice, as plaintive as his pale little eyes. "Mother Wimby, she sent +some roses to ye. Cynthy's fixin' 'em on yer table. I'm well as ever +I am; but her, she's too complaining to come in fer show-day. This +morning, early, we see some the Cross-Roads folks pass the place towards +town, an' she sent me in to tell ye. Oh, I knowed ye'd laugh. Says she, +'He's too much of a man to be skeered,' says she, 'these here tall, big +men always 'low nothin' on earth kin hurt 'em,' says she, 'but you tell +him to be keerful,' says she; an' I see Bill Skillett an' his brother on +the Square lessun a half-an-hour ago, 'th my own eyes. I won't keep ye +from yer breakfast.--Eph Watts is in there, eatin'. He's come back; but +I guess I don't need to warn ye agin' him. He seems peaceable enough. +It's the other folks you got to look out fer." + +He limped away. The editor waved his hand to him from the door, but the +old fellow shook his head, and made a warning, friendly gesture with his +arm. + +Harkless usually ate his breakfast alone, as he was the latest riser +in Plattville. (There were days in the winter when he did not reach +the hotel until eight o'clock.) This morning he found a bunch of white +roses, still wet with dew and so fragrant that the whole room was fresh +and sweet with their odor, prettily arranged in a bowl on the table, +and, at his plate, the largest of all with a pin through the stem. He +looked up, smilingly, and nodded at the red-haired girl. "Thank you, +Charmion," he said. "That's very pretty." + +She turned even redder than she always was, and answered nothing, +vigorously darting her brush at an imaginary fly on the cloth. After +several minutes she said abruptly, "You're welcome." + +There was a silence, finally broken by a long, gasping sigh. Astonished, +he looked at the girl. Her eyes were set unfathomably upon his pink tie; +the wand had dropped from her nerveless hand, and she stood rapt and +immovable. She started violently from her trance. "Ain't you goin' +to finish your coffee?" she asked, plying her instrument again, and, +bending over him slightly, whispered: "Say, Eph Watts is over there +behind you." + +At a table in a far corner of the room a large gentleman in a brown +frock coat was quietly eating his breakfast and reading the "Herald." He +was of an ornate presence, though entirely neat. A sumptuous expanse of +linen exhibited itself between the lapels of his low-cut waistcoat, and +an inch of bediamonded breastpin glittered there, like an ice-ledge on +a snowy mountain side. He had a steady, blue eye and a dissipated, +iron-gray mustache. This personage was Mr. Ephraim Watts, who, following +a calling more fashionable in the eighteenth century than in the latter +decades of the nineteenth, had shaken the dust of Carlow from his feet +some three years previously, at the strong request of the authorities. +The "Herald" had been particularly insistent upon his deportation, and, +in the local phrase, Harkless had "run him out of town." Perhaps it was +because the "Herald's" opposition (as the editor explained at the +time) had been merely moral and impersonal, and the editor had always +confessed to a liking for the unprofessional qualities of Mr. Watts, +that there was but slight embarrassment when the two gentlemen met +to-day. His breakfast finished, Harkless went over to the other and +extended his hand. Cynthia held her breath and clutched the back of +a chair. However, Mr. Watts made no motion toward his well-known hip +pocket. Instead, he rose, flushed slightly, and accepted the hand +offered him. + +"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Watts," said the journalist, cordially. "Also, +if you are running with the circus and calculate on doing business here +to-day, I'll have to see that you are fired out of town before noon. How +are you? You're looking extremely well." + +"Mr. Harkless," answered Watts, "I cherish no hard feelings, and I never +said but what you done exactly right when I left, three years ago. No, +sir; I'm not here in a professional way at all, and I don't want to be +molested. I've connected myself with an oil company, and I'm down here +to look over the ground. It beats poker and fan-tan hollow, though there +ain't as many chances in favor of the dealer, and in oil it's the farmer +that gets the rake-off. I've come back, but in an enterprising spirit +this time, to open up a new field and shed light and money in Carlow. +They told me never to show my face here again, but if you say I stay, I +guess I stay. I always was sure there was oil in the county, and I want +to prove it for everybody's benefit. Is it all right?" + +"My dear fellow," laughed the young man, shaking the gambler's hand +again, "it is all right. I have always been sorry I had to act against +you. Everything is all right! Stay and bore to Corea if you like. Did +ever you see such glorious weather?" + +"I'll let you in on some shares," Watts called after him as he turned +away. He nodded in reply and was leaving the room when Cynthia detained +him by a flourish of the fly-brush. "Say," she said,--she always called +him "Say"--"You've forgot your flower." + +He came back, and thanked her. "Will you pin it on for me, Charmion?" + +"I don't know what call you got to speak to me out of my name," she +responded, looking at the floor moodily. + +"Why?" he asked, surprised. + +"I don't see why you want to make fun of me." + +"I beg your pardon, Cynthia," he said gravely. "I didn't mean to do +that. I haven't been considerate. I didn't think you'd be displeased. +I'm very sorry. Won't you pin it on my coat?" + +Her face was lifted in grateful pleasure, and she began to pin the rose +to his lapel. Her hands were large and red and trembled. She dropped +the flower, and, saying huskily, "I don't know as I could do it right," +seized violently upon a pile of dishes and hurried from the room. + +Harkless rescued the rose, pinned it on his coat himself, and, observing +internally, for the hundredth time, that the red-haired waitress was the +queerest creature in the village, set forth gaily upon his holiday. + +When he reached the brick house on the pike he discovered a gentleman +sunk in an easy and contemplative attitude in a big chair behind the +veranda railing. At the click of the gate the lounger rose and disclosed +the stalwart figure and brown, smiling, handsome face of Mr. Lige +Willetts, an habitual devotee of Minnie Briscoe, and the most eligible +bachelor of Carlow. "The ladies will be down right off," he said, +greeting the editor's finery with a perceptible agitation and the editor +himself with a friendly shake of the hand. "Mildy says to wait out +here." + +But immediately there was a faint rustling within the house: the swish +of draperies on the stairs, a delicious whispering when light feet +descend, tapping, to hearts that beat an answer, the telegraphic +message, "We come! We come! We are near! We are near!" Lige Willetts +stared at Harkless. He had never thought the latter good-looking until +he saw him step to the door to take Miss Sherwood's hand and say in a +strange, low, tense voice, "Good-morning," as if he were announcing, at +the least: "Every one in the world except us two, died last night. It is +a solemn thing, but I am very happy." + +They walked, Minnie and Mr. Willetts a little distance in front of the +others. Harkless could not have told, afterward, whether they rode, +or walked, or floated on an air-ship to the court-house. All he knew +distinctly was that a divinity in a pink shirt waist, and a hat that was +woven of gauzy cloud by mocking fairies to make him stoop hideously to +see under it, dwelt for the time on earth and was at his side, dazzling +him in the morning sunshine. Last night the moon had lent her a silvery +glamour; she had something of the ethereal whiteness of night-dews in +that watery light, a nymph to laugh from a sparkling fountain, at the +moon or, as he thought, remembering her courtesy for his pretty speech, +perhaps a little lady of King Louis's court, wandering down the years +from Fontainebleau and appearing to clumsy mortals sometimes, of a June +night when the moon was in their heads. + +But to-day she was of the clearest color, a pretty girl, whose gray eyes +twinkled to his in gay companionship. He marked how the sunshine was +spun into the fair shadows of her hair and seemed itself to catch a +lustre, rather than to impart it, and the light of the June day drifted +through the gauzy hat, touching her face with a delicate and tender +flush that came and went like the vibrating pink of early dawn. She +had the divinest straight nose, tip-tilted the faintest, most alluring +trifle, and a dimple cleft her chin, "the deadliest maelstrom in the +world!" He thrilled through and through. He had been only vaguely +conscious of the dimple in the night. It was not until he saw her by +daylight that he really knew it was there. + +The village hummed with life before them. They walked through shimmering +airs, sweeter to breathe than nectar is to drink. She caught a +butterfly, basking on a jimson weed, and, before she let it go, held it +out to him in her hand. It was a white butterfly. He asked which was the +butterfly. + +"Bravo!" she said, tossing the captive craft above their heads and +watching the small sails catch the breeze; "And so you can make little +flatteries in the morning, too. It is another courtesy you should be +having from me, if it weren't for the dustiness of it. Wait till we come +to the board walk." + +She had some big, pink roses at her waist. "In the meantime," he +answered, indicating these, "I know very well a lad that would be blithe +to accept a pretty token of any lady's high esteem." + +"But you have one, already, a very beautiful one." She gave him a genial +up-and-down glance from head to foot, half quizzical, but so quick he +almost missed it. And then he was glad he had found the straw hat with +the youthful ribbon, and all his other festal vestures. "And a very +becoming flower a white rose is," she continued, "though I am a bold +girl to be blarneying with a young gentleman I met no longer ago than +last night." + +"But why shouldn't you blarney with a gentleman, when you began by +saving his life?" + +"Or, rather, when the gentleman had the politeness to gallop about +the county with me tucked under his arm?" She stood still and laughed +softly, but consummately, and her eyes closed tight with the mirth of +it. She had taken one of the roses from her waist, and, as she stood, +holding it by the long stem, its petals lightly pressed her lips. + +"You may have it--in exchange," she said. He bent down to her, and she +began to fasten the pink rose in place of the white one on his coat. She +did not ask him, directly or indirectly, who had put the white one there +for him, because she knew by the way it was pinned that he had done it +himself. "Who is it that ev'ry morning brings me these lovely flow'rs?" +she burlesqued, as he bent over her. + +"'Mr. Wimby,'" he returned. "I will point him out to you. You must see +him, and, also, Mr. Bodeffer, the oldest inhabitant--and crossest." + +"Will you present them to me?" + +"No; they might talk to you and take some of my time with you away from +me." Her eyes sparkled into his for the merest fraction of a second, +and she laughed half mockingly. Then she dropped his lapel and they +proceeded. She did not put the white rose in her belt, but carried it. + +The Square was heaving with a jostling, goodnatured, happy, and +constantly increasing crowd that overflowed on Main Street in both +directions; and the good nature of this crowd was augmented in the ratio +that its size increased. The streets were a confusion of many colors, +and eager faces filled every window opening on Main Street or the +Square. Since nine o'clock all those of the courthouse had been +occupied, and here most of the damsels congregated to enjoy the +spectacle of the parade, and their swains attended, gallantly posting +themselves at coignes of less vantage behind the ladies. Some of the +faces that peeped from the dark, old court-house windows were +pretty, and some of them were not pretty; but nearly all of them were +rosy-cheeked, and all were pleasant to see because of the good +cheer they showed. Some of the gallants affected the airy and easy, +entertaining the company with badinage and repartee; some were openly +bashful. Now and then one of the latter, after long deliberation, +constructed a laborious compliment for his inamorata, and, after +advancing and propounding half of it, again retired into himself, smit +with a blissful palsy. Nearly all of them conversed in tones that might +have indicated that they were separated from each other by an acre lot +or two. + +Here and there, along the sidewalk below, a father worked his way +through the throng, a licorice-bedaubed cherub on one arm, his coat +(borne with long enough) on the other; followed by a mother with the +other children hanging to her skirts and tagging exasperatingly +behind, holding red and blue toy balloons and delectable batons of +spiral-striped peppermint in tightly closed, sadly sticky fingers. + +A thousand cries rent the air; the strolling mountebanks and gypsying +booth-merchants; the peanut vendors; the boys with palm-leaf fans for +sale; the candy sellers; the popcorn peddlers; the Italian with the toy +balloons that float like a cluster of colored bubbles above the heads of +the crowd, and the balloons that wail like a baby; the red-lemonade +man, shouting in the shrill voice that reaches everywhere and +endures forever: "Lemo! Lemo! Ice-cole lemo! Five cents, a nickel, a +half-a-dime, the twentiethpotofadollah! Lemo! Ice-cole lemo!"--all the +vociferating harbingers of the circus crying their wares. Timid youth, +in shoes covered with dust through which the morning polish but dimly +shone, and unalterably hooked by the arm to blushing maidens, bought +recklessly of peanuts, of candy, of popcorn, of all known sweetmeats, +perchance; and forced their way to the lemonade stands; and there, all +shyly, silently sipped the crimson-stained ambrosia. Everywhere the +hawkers dinned, and everywhere was heard the plaintive squawk of the toy +balloon. + +But over all rose the nasal cadence of the Cheap John, reeking oratory +from his big wagon on the corner: "Walk up, walk up, walk up, ladies and +gents! Here we are! Here we are! Make hay while we gather the moss. Walk +up, one and all. Here I put this solid gold ring, sumptuous and golden, +eighteen carats, eighteen golden carats of the priceless mother of +metals, toiled fer on the wild Pacific slope, eighteen garnteed, I put +this golden ring, rich and golden, in the package with the hangkacheef, +the elegant and blue-ruled note-paper, self-writing pens, pencil and +penholder. Who takes the lot? Who takes it, ladies and gents?" + +His tongue curled about his words; he seemed to love them. "Fer a +quat-of-a-dollah! Don't turn away, young man--you feller in the green +necktie, there. We all see the young lady on your arm is a-langrishing +fer the golden ring and the package. Faint heart never won fair wummin'. +There you are, sir, and you'll never regret it. Go--and be happy! Now, +who's the next man to git solid with his girl fer a quat-of-a-dollah? +Life is a mysterus and unviolable shadder, my friends; who kin read its +orgeries? To-day we are here--but to-morrow we may be in jail. Only +a quat-of-a-dollah! We are Seventh-Day Adventists, ladies and gents, +a-givin' away our belongings in the awful face of Michael, fer a +quat-of-a-dollah. The same price fer each-an-devery individual, lady and +gent, man, wummin, wife and child, and happiness to one and all fer a +quat-of-a-dollah!" + +Down the middle of the street, kept open between the waiting crowd, ran +barefoot boys, many of whom had not slept at home, but had kept vigil in +the night mists for the coming of the show, and, having seen the muffled +pageant arrive, swathed, and with no pomp and panoply, had returned to +town, rioting through jewelled cobwebs in the morning fields, happy in +the pride of knowledge of what went on behind the scenes. To-night, or +to-morrow, the runaways would face a woodshed reckoning with outraged +ancestry; but now they caracoled in the dust with no thought of the grim +deeds to be done upon them. + +In the court-house yard, and so sinning in the very eye of the law, +two swarthy, shifty-looking gentlemen were operating (with some greasy +walnut shells and a pea) what the fanciful or unsophisticated might have +been pleased to call a game of chance; and the most intent spectator of +the group around them was Mr. James Bardlock, the Town Marshal. He +was simply and unofficially and earnestly interested. Thus the eye of +Justice may not be said to have winked upon the nefariousness now under +its vision; it gazed with strong curiosity, an itch to dabble, and (it +must be admitted) a growing hope of profit. The game was so direct and +the player so sure. Several countrymen had won small sums, and one, a +charmingly rustic stranger, with a peculiar accent (he said that him and +his goil should now have a smoot' old time off his winninks--though the +lady was not manifested), had won twenty-five dollars with no trouble at +all. The two operators seemed depressed, declaring the luck against them +and the Plattville people too brilliant at the game. + +It was wonderful how the young couples worked their way arm-in-arm +through the thickest crowds, never separating. Even at the lemonade +stands they drank holding the glasses in their outer hands--such are the +sacrifices demanded by etiquette. But, observing the gracious outpouring +of fortune upon the rustic with the rare accent, a youth in a green tie +disengaged his arm--for the first time in two hours--from that of a +girl upon whose finger there shone a ring, sumptuous and golden, and, +conducting her to a corner of the yard, bade her remain there until he +returned. He had to speak to Hartly Bowlder, he explained. + +Then he plunged, red-faced and excited, into the circle about the shell +manipulators, and offered, to lay a wager. + +"Hol' on there, Hen Fentriss," thickly objected a flushed young man +beside him, "iss my turn." + +"I'm first. Hartley," returned the other. "You can hold yer bosses a +minute, I reckon." + +"Plenty fer each and all, chents," interrupted one of the shell-men. +"Place yer spondulicks on de little ball. Wich is de next lucky one +to win our money? Chent bets four sixty-five he seen de little ball +go under de middle shell. Up she comes! Dis time _we_ wins; Plattville +can't win _every_ time. Who's de next chent?" + +Fentriss edged slowly out of the circle, abashed, and with rapidly +whitening cheeks. He paused for a moment, outside, slowly realizing that +all his money had gone in one wild, blind whirl--the money he had earned +so hard and saved so hard, to make a holiday for his sweetheart and +himself. He stole one glance around the building to where a patient +figure waited for him. Then he fled down a side alley and soon was out +upon the country road, tramping soddenly homeward through the dust, his +chin sunk in his breast and his hands clenched tight at his sides. Now +and then he stopped and bitterly hurled a stone at a piping bird on a +fence, or gay Bob White in the fields. At noon the patient figure was +still waiting in the corner of the court-house yard, meekly twisting the +golden ring upon her finger. + +But the flushed young man who had spoken thickly to her deserter drew +an envied roll of bankbills from his pocket and began to bet with +tipsy caution, while the circle about the gamblers watched with fervid +interest, especially Mr. Bardlock, Town Marshal. + +From far up Main Street came the cry "She's a-comin'! She's a-comin'!" +and, this announcement of the parade proving only one of a dozen false +alarms, a thousand discussions took place over old-fashioned silver +timepieces as to when "she" was really due. Schofields' Henry was much +appealed to as an arbiter in these discussions, from a sense of his +having a good deal to do with time in a general sort of way; and thus +Schofields' came to be reminded that it was getting on toward ten +o'clock, whereas, in the excitement of festival, he had not yet struck +nine. This, rushing forthwith to do, he did; and, in the elation of the +moment, seven or eight besides. Miss Helen Sherwood was looking down on +the mass of shifting color from a second-story window--whither many +an eye was upturned in wonder--and she had the pleasure of seeing +Schofields' emerge on the steps beneath her, when the bells had done, +and heard the cheers (led by Mr. Martin) with which the laughing crowd +greeted his appearance after the performance of his feat. + +She turned beamingly to Harkless. "What a family it is!" she laughed. +"Just one big, jolly family. I didn't know people could be like this +until I came to Plattville." + +"That is the word for it," he answered, resting his hand on the casement +beside her. "I used to think it was desolate, but that was long ago." He +leaned from the window to look down. In his dark cheek was a glow Carlow +folk had never seen there; and somehow he seemed less thin and tired; +indeed, he did not seem tired at all, by far the contrary; and he +carried himself upright (when he was not stooping to see under the +hat), though not as if he thought about it. "I believe they are the best +people I know," he went on. "Perhaps it is because they have been so +kind to me; but they are kind to each other, too; kind, good people----" + +"I know," she said, nodding--a flower on the gauzy hat set to vibrating +in a tantalizing way. "I know. There are fat women who rock and rock +on piazzas by the sea, and they speak of country people as the 'lower +classes.' How happy this big family is in not knowing it is the lower +classes!" "We haven't read Nordau down here," said John. "Old Tom +Martin's favorite work is 'The Descent of Man.' Miss Tibbs admires +Tupper, and 'Beulah,' and some of us possess the works of E. P. Roe--and +why not?" + +"Yes; what of it," she returned, "since you escape Nordau? I think the +conversation we hear from the other windows is as amusing and quite as +loud as most of that I hear in Rouen during the winter; and Rouen, you +know, is just like any other big place nowadays, though I suppose +there are Philadelphians, for instance, who would be slow to believe a +statement like that." + +"Oh, but they are not all of Philadelphia----" He left the sentence, +smilingly. + +"And yet somebody said, 'The further West I travel the more convinced I +am the Wise Men came from the East.'" + +"Yes," he answered. "'From' is the important word in that." + +"It was a girl from Southeast Cottonbridge, Massachusetts," said Helen, +"who heard I was from Indiana and asked me if I didn't hate to live so +far away from things." There was a pause, while she leaned out of the +window with her face aside from him. Then she remarked carelessly, "I +met her at Winter Harbor." + +"Do you go to Winter Harbor?" he asked. + +"We have gone there every summer until this one, for years. Have you +friends who go there?" + +"I had--once. There was a classmate of mine from Rouen----" + +"What was his name? Perhaps I know him." She stole a glance at him. His +face had fallen into sad lines, and he looked like the man who had come +up the aisle with the Hon. Kedge Halloway. A few moments before he had +seemed another person entirely. + +"He's forgotten me, I dare say. I haven't seen him for seven years; and +that's a long time, you know. Besides, he's 'out in the world,' where +remembering is harder. Here in Plattville we don't forget." + +"Were you ever at Winter Harbor?" + +"I was--once. I spent a very happy day there long ago, when you must +have been a little girl. Were you there in--" + +"Listen!" she cried. "The procession is coming. Look at the crowd!" The +parade had seized a psychological moment. + +There was a fanfare of trumpets in the east. Lines of people rushed for +the street, and, as one looked down on the straw hats and sunbonnets and +many kinds of finer head apparel, tossing forward, they seemed like surf +sweeping up the long beaches. + +She was coming at last. The boys whooped in the middle of the street; +some tossed their arms to heaven, others expressed their emotion by +somersaults; those most deeply moved walked on their hands. In the +distance one saw, over the heads of the multitude, tossing banners and +the moving crests of triumphal cars, where "cohorts were shining in +purple and gold." She _was_ coming. After all the false alarms and +disappointments, she was coming! + +There was another flourish of music. Immediately all the band gave +sound, and then, with blare of brass and the crash of drums, the glory +of the parade burst upon Plattville. Glory in the utmost! The resistless +impetus of the march-time music; the flare of royal banners, of pennons +on the breeze; the smiling of beautiful Court Ladies and great, silken +Nobles; the swaying of howdahs on camel and elephant, and the awesome +shaking of the earth beneath the elephant's feet, and the gleam of his +small but devastating eye (every one declared he looked the alarmed Mr. +Snoddy full in the face as he passed, and Mr. Snoddy felt not at +all reassured when Tom Martin severely hinted that it was with the +threatening glance of a rival); then the badinage of the clown, creaking +along in his donkey cart; the terrific recklessness of the spangled hero +who was drawn by in a cage with two striped tigers; the spirit of the +prancing steeds that drew the rumbling chariots, and the grace of the +helmeted charioteers; the splendor of the cars and the magnificence +of the paintings with which they were adorned; the ecstasy of all this +glittering, shining, gorgeous pageantry needed even more than walking on +your hands to express. + +Last of all came the tooting calliope, followed by swarms of boys as it +executed, "Wait till the clouds roll by, Jennie" with infinite dash and +gusto. + +When it was gone, Miss Sherwood's intent gaze relaxed--she had been +looking on as eagerly as any child,--and she turned to speak to Harkless +and discovered that he was no longer in the room; instead, she found +Minnie and Mr. Willetts, whom he had summoned from another window. + +"He was called away," explained Lige. "He thought he'd be back before +the parade was over, and said you were enjoying it so much he didn't +want to speak to you." + +"Called away?" she said, inquiringly. + +Minnie laughed. "Oh, everybody sends for Mr. Harkless." + +"It was a farmer, name of Bowlder," added Mr. Willetts. "His son +Hartley's drinking again, and there ain't any one but Harkless can do +anything with him. You let him tackle a sick man to nurse, or a tipsy +one to handle, and I tell you," Mr. Willetts went on with enthusiasm, +"he is at home. It beats me,--and lots of people don't think college +does a man any good! Why, the way he cured old Fis----" + +"See!" cried Minnie, loudly, pointing out of the window. "Look down +there. Something's happened." + +There was a swirl in the crowd below. Men were running around a corner +of the court-house, and the women and children were harking after. They +went so fast, and there were so many of them, that immediately that +whole portion of the yard became a pushing, tugging, pulling, squirming +jam of people. + +"It's on the other side," said Lige. "We can see from the hall window. +Come quick, before these other folks fill it up." + +They followed him across the building, and looked down on an agitated +swarm of faces. Five men were standing on the entrance steps to the +door below, and the crowd was thickly massed beyond, leaving a little +semicircle clear about the steps. Those behind struggled to get closer, +and leaped in the air to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Harkless +stood alone on the top step, his hand resting on the shoulder of the +pale and contrite and sobered Hartley. In the clear space, Jim Bardlock +was standing with sheepishly hanging head, and between him and Harkless +were the two gamblers of the walnut shells. The journalist held in his +hand the implements of their profession. + +"Give it all up," he was saying in his steady voice. "You've taken +eighty-six dollars from this boy. Hand it over." + +The men began to edge closer to the crowd, giving little, swift, +desperate, searching looks from left to right, and right to left, moving +nervously about, like weasels in a trap. "Close up there tight," said +Harkless, sharply. "Don't let them out." + +"W'y can't we git no square treatment here?" one of the gamblers whined; +but his eyes, blazing with rage, belied the plaintive passivity of his +tone. "We been running no skin. Wy d'ye say we gotter give up our own +money? You gotter prove it was a skin. We risked our money fair." + +"Prove it! Come up here, Eph Watts. Friends," the editor turned to the +crowd, smiling, "friends, here's a man we ran out of town once, because +he knew too much about things of this sort. He's come back to us again +and he's here to stay. He'll give us an object-lesson on the shell +game." + +"It's pretty simple," remarked Mr. Watts. "The best way is to pick up +the ball with your second finger and the back part of your thumb as you +pretend to lay the shell down over it: this way." He illustrated, and +showed several methods of manipulation, with professional sang-froid; +and as he made plain the easy swindle by which many had been duped that +morning, there arose an angry and threatening murmur. + +"You all see," said Harkless, raising his voice a little, "what a simple +cheat it is--and old as Pharaoh. Yet a lot of you stood around and lost +your own money, and stared like idiots, and let Hartley Bowlder lose +eighty-odd dollars on a shell racket, and not one of you lifted a hand. +How hard did you work for what these two cheap crooks took from you? +Ah!" he cried, "it is because you were greedy that they robbed you so +easily. You know it's true. It's when you want to get something for +nothing that the 'confidence men' steal the money you sweat for and +make the farmer a laughing stock. And _you_, Jim Bardlock, Town +Marshal!--you, who confess that you 'went in the game sixty cents' +worth, yourself--" His eyes were lit with wrath as he raised his +accusing hand and levelled it at the unhappy municipal. + +The Town Marshal smiled uneasily and deprecatingly about him, and, +meeting only angry glances, hearing only words of condemnation, he +passed his hand unsteadily over his fat mustache, shifted from one +leg to the other and back again, looked up, looked down, and then, an +amiable and pleasure-loving man, beholding nothing but accusation and +anger in heaven and earth, and wishing nothing more than to sink into +the waters under the earth, but having no way of reaching them, finding +his troubles quite unbearable, and unable to meet the manifold eye of +man, he sought relief after the unsagacious fashion of a larger bird +than he. His burly form underwent a series of convulsions not unlike +sobs, and he shut his eyes tightly and held them so, presenting a +picture of misery unequalled in the memory of any spectator. Harkless's +outstretched hand began to shake. "You!" he tried to continue--"you, a +man elected to----" + +There came from the crowd the sound of a sad, high-keyed voice, +drawling: "That's a nice vest Jim's got on, but it ain't hardly the +feathers fitten for an ostrich, is it?" + +The editor's gravity gave way; he broke into a ringing laugh and turned +again to the shell-men. "Give up the boy's money. Hurry." + +"Step down here and git it," said the one who had spoken. + +There was a turbulent motion in the crowd, and a cry arose, "Run 'em +out! Ride 'em on a rail! Tar and feathers! Run 'em out o' town!" + +"I wouldn't dilly-dally long if I were you," said Harkless, and his +advice seemed good to the shell-men. A roll of bills, which he counted +and turned over to the elder Bowlder, was sullenly placed in his hand. +The fellow who had not yet spoken clutched the journalist's sleeve with +his dirty hand. + +"We hain't done wit' youse," he said, hoarsely. "Don't belief it, not +fer a minute, see?" + +The Town Marshal opened his eyes briskly, and placing a hand on each of +the gamblers, said: "I hereby do arrest your said persons, and declare +you my prisoners." The cry rose again, louder: "Run 'em out! String 'em +up! Hang them! Hang them!" and a forward rush was made. + +"This way, Jim. Be quick," said Harkless, quietly, bending down and +jerking one of the gamblers half-way up the steps. "Get through the hall +to the other side and then run them to the lock-up. No one will stop +you that way. Watts and I will hold this door." Bardlock hustled his +prisoners through the doorway, and the crowd pushed up the steps, while +Harkless struggled to keep the vestibule clear until Watts got the +double doors closed. "Stand back, here!" he cried; "it's all over. Don't +be foolish. The law is good enough for us. Stand back, will you!" + +He was laughing a little, shoving them back with open hand and elbow, +when a small, compact group of men suddenly dashed up the steps +together, and a heavy stick swung out over their heads. A straw hat with +a gay ribbon sailed through the air. The journalist's long arms went +out swiftly from his body in several directions, the hands not open, but +clenched and hard. The next instant he and Mr. Watts stood alone on the +steps, and a man with a bleeding, blaspheming mouth dropped his +stick and tried to lose himself in the crowd. Mr. Watts was returning +something he had not used to his hip-pocket. + +"Prophets of Israel!" exclaimed William Todd, ruefully, "it wasn't Eph +Watts's pistol. Did you see Mr. Harkless? I was up on them steps when he +begun. I don't believe he needs as much takin' care of as we think." + +"Wasn't it one of them Cross-Roads devils that knocked his hat off?" +asked Judd Bennett. "I thought I see Bob Skillett run up with a club." + +Harkless threw open the doors behind him; the hall was empty. "You may +come in now," he said. "This isn't my court-house." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. GLAD AFTERNOON: THE GIRL BY THE BLUE TENT-POLE + +They walked slowly back along the pike toward the brick house. The +white-ruffed fennel reached up its dusty yellow heads to touch her +skirts as she passed, and then drooped, satisfied, against the purple +iron-weed at the roadside. In the noonday silence no cricket chirped nor +locust raised its lorn monotone; the tree shadows mottled the road with +blue, and the level fields seemed to pant out a dazzling breath, the +transparent "heat-waves" that danced above the low corn and green wheat. + +He was stooping very much as they walked; he wanted to be told that +he could look at her for a thousand years. Her face was rarely and +exquisitely modelled, but, perhaps, just now the salient characteristic +of her beauty (for the salient characteristic seemed to be a different +thing at different times) was the coloring, a delicate glow under the +white skin, that bewitched him in its seeming a reflection of the rich +benediction of the noonday sun that blazed overhead. + +Once he had thought the way to the Briscoe homestead rather a long walk; +but now the distance sped malignantly; and strolled they never so +slow, it was less than a "young bird's flutter from a wood." With her +acquiescence he rolled a cigarette, and she began to hum lightly the air +of a song, a song of an ineffably gentle, slow movement. + +That, and a reference of the morning, and, perhaps, the smell of his +tobacco mingling with the fragrance of her roses, awoke again the keen +reminiscence of the previous night within him. Clearly outlined before +him rose the high, green slopes and cool cliff-walls of the coast of +Maine, while his old self lazily watched the sharp little waves through +half-closed lids, the pale smoke of his cigarette blowing out under the +rail of a waxen deck where he lay cushioned. And again a woman pelted +his face with handfuls of rose-petals and cried: "Up lad and at 'em! +Yonder is Winter Harbor." Again he sat in the oak-raftered Casino, +breathless with pleasure, and heard a young girl sing the "Angel's +Serenade," a young girl who looked so bravely unconscious of the big, +hushed crowd that listened, looked so pure and bright and gentle and +good, that he had spoken of her as "Sir Galahad's little sister." He +recollected he had been much taken with this child; but he had not +thought of her from that time to this, he supposed; had almost forgotten +her. No! Her face suddenly stood out to his view as though he saw +her with his physical eye--a sweet and vivacious child's face with +light-brown hair and gray eyes and a short upper lip. ... And the +voice.... + +He stopped short and struck his palms together. "You are Tom Meredith's +little cousin!" + +"The Great Harkless!" she answered, and stretched out her hand to him. + +"I remember you!" + +"Isn't it time?" + +"Ah, but I never forgot you," he cried. "I thought I had. I didn't know +who it was I was remembering. I thought it was fancy, and it was memory. +I never forgot your voice, singing--and I remembered your face too; +though I thought I didn't." He drew a deep breath. "_That_ was why----" + +"Tom Meredith has not forgotten you," she said, as he paused. + +"Would you mind shaking hands once more?" he asked. She gave him her +hand again. "With all my heart. Why?" + +"I'm making a record at it. Thank you." + +"They called me 'Sir Galahad's little sister' all one summer because the +Great John Harkless called me that. You danced with me in the evening." + +"Did I?" + +"Ah," she said, shaking her head, "you were too busy being in love with +Mrs. Van Skuyt to remember a waltz with only me! I was allowed to meet +you as a reward for singing my very best, and you--you bowed with the +indulgence of a grandfather, and asked me to dance." + +"Like a grandfather? How young I was then! How time changes us!" + +"I'm afraid my conversation did not make a great impression upon you," +she continued. + +"But it did. I am remembering very fast. If you will wait a moment, I +will tell you some of the things you said." + +The girl laughed merrily. Whenever she laughed he realized that it was +becoming terribly difficult not to tell her how adorable she was. "I +wouldn't risk it, if I were you," she warned him, "because I didn't +speak to you at all. I shut my lips tight and trembled all over every +bit of the time I was dancing with you. I did not sleep that night, +because I was so unhappy, wondering what the Great Harkless would think +of me. I knew he thought me unutterably stupid because I couldn't +talk to him. I wanted to send him word that I knew I had bored him. +I couldn't bear for him not to know that I knew I had. But he was not +thinking of me in any way. He had gone to sea again in a big boat, the +ungrateful pirate, cruising with Mrs. Van Skuyt." + +"How time _does_ change us!" said John. "You are wrong, though; I did +think of you; I have al----" + +"Yes," she interrupted, tossing her head in airy travesty of the stage +coquette, "you think so--I mean you say so--now. Away with you and your +blarneying!" + + + +And so they went through the warm noontide, and little he cared for the +heat that wilted the fat mullein leaves and made the barefoot boy, who +passed by, skip gingerly through the burning dust with anguished mouth +and watery eye. Little he knew of the locust that suddenly whirred his +mills of shrillness in the maple-tree, and sounded so hot, hot, hot; or +those others that railed at the country quiet from the dim shade around +the brick house; or even the rain-crow that sat on the fence and swore +to them in the face of a sunny sky that they should see rain ere the day +were done. + +Little the young man recked of what he ate at Judge Briscoe's good noon +dinner: chicken wing and young roas'n'-ear; hot rolls as light as +the fluff of a summer cloudlet; and honey and milk; and apple-butter +flavored like spices of Arabia; and fragrant, flaky cherry-pie; and +cool, rich, yellow cream. Lige Willetts was a lover, yet he said he +asked no better than to Just go on eating that cherry-pie till a sweet +death overtook him; but railroad sandwiches and restaurant chops might +have been set before Harkless for all the difference it would have made +to him. + +At no other time is a man's feeling of companionship with a woman +so strong as when he sits at table with her-not at a "decorated" and +becatered and bewaitered table, but at a homely, appetizing, wholesome +home table like old Judge Briscoe's. The very essence of the thing is +domesticity, and the implication is utter confidence and liking. There +are few greater dangers for a bachelor. An insinuating imp perches on +his shoulder, and, softly tickling the bachelor's ear with the feathers +of an arrow-shaft, whispers: "Pretty nice, isn't it, eh? Rather pleasant +to have that girl sitting there, don't you think? Enjoy having her +notice your butter-plate was empty? Think it exhilarating to hand her +those rolls? Looks nice, doesn't she? Says 'Thank you' rather prettily? +Makes your lonely breakfast seem mighty dull, doesn't it? How would you +like to have her pour your coffee for you to-morrow, my boy? How would +it seem to have such pleasant company all the rest of your life? Pretty +cheerful, eh?" + +When Miss Sherwood passed the editor the apple-butter, the casual, +matter-of-course way she did it entranced him in a strange, exquisite +wonderment. He did not set the dish down when she put it in his hand, +but held it straight out before him, just looking at it, until Mr. +Willetts had a dangerous choking fit, for which Minnie was very proud of +Lige; no one could have suspected that it was the veil of laughter. When +Helen told John he really must squeeze a lemon into his iced tea, he +felt that his one need in life was to catch her up in his arms and run +away with her, not anywhere in particular, but just run and run and run +away. + +After dinner they went out to the veranda and the gentlemen smoked. The +judge set his chair down on the ground, tilted back in it with his feet +on the steps, and blew a wavery domed city up in the air. He called it +solid comfort. He liked to sit out from under the porch roof, he said; +he wanted to see more of the sky. The others moved their chairs down to +join him in the celestial vision. There had blown across the heaven a +feathery, thin cloud or two, but save for these, there was nothing but +glorious and tender, brilliant blue. It seemed so clear and close one +marvelled the little church spire in the distance did not pierce it; +yet, at the same time, the eye ascended miles and miles into warm, +shimmering ether. Far away two buzzards swung slowly at anchor, half-way +to the sun. + + "'O bright, translucent, cerulean hue, + Let my wide wings drift on in you,'" + +said Harkless, pointing them out to Helen. + +"You seem to get a good deal of fun out of this kind of weather," +observed Lige, as he wiped his brow and shifted his chair out of the +sun. + +"I expect you don't get such skies as this up in Rouen," said the judge, +looking at the girl from between half-closed eyelids. + +"It's the same Indiana sky, I think," she answered. + +"I guess maybe in the city you don't see as much of it, or think as much +about it. Yes, they're the Indiana skies," the old man went on. + + Skies as blue + As the eyes of children when they smile at you.' + +"There aren't any others anywhere that ever seemed much like them to +me. They've been company for me all my life. I don't think there are any +others half as beautiful, and I know there aren't any as sociable. They +were always so." He sighed gently, and Miss Sherwood fancied his wife +must have found the Indiana skies as lovely as he had, in the days of +long ago. "Seems to me they _are_ the softest and bluest and kindest in +the world." + +"I think they are," said Helen, "and they are more beautiful than the +'Italian skies,' though I doubt if many of us Hoosiers realize it; +and--certainly no one else does." + +The old man leaned over and patted her hand. Harkless gasped. "'Us +Hoosiers!'" chuckled the judge. "You're a great Hoosier, young lady! How +much of your life have you spent in the State? 'Us Hoosiers!'" + +"But I'm going to be a good one," she answered, gaily, "and if I'm good +enough, when I grow up maybe I'll be a great one." + +The buckboard had been brought around, and the four young people climbed +in, Harkless driving. Before they started, the judge, standing on the +horse-block in front of the gate, leaned over and patted Miss Sherwood's +hand again. Harkless gathered up the reins. + +"You'll make a great Hoosier, all right," said the old man, beaming upon +the girl. "You needn't worry about that, I guess, my dear." + +When he said "my dear," Harkless spoke to the horses. + +"Wait," said the judge, still holding the girl's hand. "You'll make a +great Hoosier, some day; don't fret. You're already a very beautiful +one." Then he bent his white head and kissed her, gallantly. John said: +"Good afternoon, judge"; the whip cracked like a pistol-shot, and the +buckboard dashed off in a cloud of dust. + +"Every once in a while, Harkless," the old fellow called after them, +"you must remember to look at the team." + +The enormous white tent was filled with a hazy yellow light, the warm, +dusty, mellow light that thrills the rejoicing heart because it is +found nowhere in the world except in the tents of a circus--the +canvas-filtered sunshine and sawdust atmosphere of show day. Through the +entrance the crowd poured steadily, coming from the absorptions of +the wild-animal tent to feast upon greater wonders; passing around the +sawdust ellipse that contained two soul-cloying rings, to find seats +whence they might behold the splendors so soon to be unfolded. Every one +who was not buying the eternal lemonade was eating something; and the +faces of children shone with gourmand rapture; indeed, very often the +eyes of them were all you saw, half-closed in palate-gloating over a +huge apple, or a bulky oblong of popcorn, partly unwrapped from its +blue tissue-paper cover; or else it might be a luscious pink crescent of +watermelon, that left its ravisher stained and dripping to the brow. + +Here, as in the morning, the hawkers raised their cries in +unintermittent shrillness, offering to the musically inclined the Happy +Evenings Song-book, alleged to contain those treasures, all the latest +songs of the day, or presented for the consideration of the humorous +the Lawrence Lapearl Joke-book, setting forth in full the art of comical +entertainment and repartee. (Schofields' Henry bought two of +these--no doubt on the principle that two were twice as instructive as +one--intending to bury himself in study and do battle with Tom Martin on +his own ground.) + +Here swayed the myriad palm-leaf fans; here paraded blushing youth and +rosy maiden, more relentlessly arm-in-arm than ever; here crept +the octogenarian, Mr. Bodeffer, shaking on cane and the shoulder of +posterity; here waddled Mr. Snoddy, who had hurried through the animal +tent for fear of meeting the elephant; here marched sturdy yeomen and +stout wives; here came William Todd and his Anna Belle, the good William +hushed with the embarrassments of love, but looking out warily with +the white of his eye for Mr. Martin, and determined not to sit within a +hundred yards of him; here rolled in the orbit of habit the bacchanal, +Mr. Wilkerson, who politely answered in kind all the uncouth roarings +and guttural ejaculations of jungle and fen that came from the animal +tent; in brief, here came with lightest hearts the population of Carlow +and part of Amo. + +Helen had found a true word: it was a big family. Jim Bardlock, broadly +smiling and rejuvenated, shorn of depression, paused in front of the +"reserve" seats, with Mrs. Bardlock on his arm, and called loudly to a +gentleman on a tier about the level of Jim's head: "How are ye? I reckon +we were a _little_ too smart fer 'em, this morning, huh?" Five or six +hundred people--every one within hearing--fumed to look at Jim; but the +gentleman addressed was engaged in conversation with a lady and did not +notice. + +"Hi! Hi, there! _Say_! Mr. Harkless!" bellowed Jim, informally. The +people turned to look at Harkless. His attention was arrested and his +cheek grew red. + +"_What is it_?" he asked, a little confused and a good deal annoyed. + +"I don't hear what ye say," shouted Jim, putting his hand to his ear. + +"_What is it_?" repeated the young man. "I'll kill that fellow +to-night," he added to Lige Willetts. "Some one ought to have done it +long ago." + +"What?" + +"I _say_, WHAT IS IT?" + +"I only wanted to say me and you certainly did fool these here Hoosiers +this morning, huh? Hustled them two fellers through the court-house, and +nobody never thought to slip round to the other door and head us off. +Ha, ha! We were jest a _leetle_ too many fer 'em, huh?" + +From an upper tier of seats the rusty length of Mr. Martin erected +itself joint by joint, like an extension ladder, and he peered down +over the gaping faces at the Town Marshal. "Excuse me," he said sadly to +those behind him, but his dry voice penetrated everywhere, "I got up to +hear Jim say 'We' again." + +Mr. Bardlock joined in the laugh against himself, and proceeded with +his wife to some seats, forty or fifty feet distant. When he had settled +himself comfortably, he shouted over cheerfully to the unhappy editor: +"Them shell-men got it in fer you, Mr. Harkless." + +"Ain't that fool shet up _yit_?" snarled the aged Mr. Bodeffer, +indignantly. He was sitting near the young couple, and the expression +of his sympathy was distinctly audible to them and many others. "Got +no more regards than a brazing calf-disturbin' a feller with his +sweetheart!" + +"The both of 'em says they're goin' to do fer you," bleated Mr. +Bardlock. "Swear they'll git their evens with ye." + +Mr. Martin rose again. "Don't git scared and leave town, Mr. Harkless," +he called out; "Jim'll protect you." + +Vastly to the young man's relief the band began to play, and the +equestrians and equestriennes capered out from the dressing-tent for the +"Grand Entrance," and the performance commenced. Through the long +summer afternoon it went on: wonders of horsemanship and horsewomanship; +hair-raising exploits on wires, tight and slack; giddy tricks on the +high trapeze; feats of leaping and tumbling in the rings; while the +tireless musicians blatted inspiringly through it all, only pausing +long enough to allow that uproarious jester, the clown, to ask the +ring-master what he would do if a young lady came up and kissed him on +the street, and to exploit his hilarities during the short intervals of +rest for the athletes. + +When it was over, John and Helen found themselves in the midst of a +densely packed crowd, and separated from Miss Briscoe and Lige. People +were pushing and shoving, and he saw her face grow pale. He realized +with a pang of sympathy how helpless he would feel if he were as small +as she, and at his utmost height could only see big, suffocating backs +and huge shoulders pressing down from above. He was keeping them from +crowding heavily upon her with all his strength, and a royal feeling of +protectiveness came over him. She was so little. And yet, without the +remotest hint of hardness, she gave him such a distinct impression of +poise and equilibrium, she seemed so able to meet anything that might +come, to understand it--even to laugh at it--so Americanly capable and +sure of the event, that in spite of her pale cheek he could not feel +quite so protective as he wished to feel. + +He managed to get her to one of the tent-poles, and placed her with her +back to it. Then he set one of his own hands against it over her head, +braced himself and stood, keeping a little space about her, ruggedly +letting the crowd surge against him as it would; no one should touch her +in rough carelessness. + +"Thank you. It was rather trying in there," she said, and looked up into +his eyes with a divine gratitude. + +"Please don't do that," he answered in a low voice. + +"Do what?" + +"Look like that." + +She not only looked like that, but more so. "Young man, young man," she +said, "I fear you're wishful of turning a girl's head." + +The throng was thick around them, garrulous and noisy, but they two were +more richly alone together, to his appreciation, than if they stood on +some far satellite of Mars. He was not to forget that moment, and he +kept the picture of her, as she leaned against the big blue tent-pole, +there, in his heart: the clear gray eyes lifted to his, the delicate +face with the color stealing back to her cheeks, and the brave little +figure that had run so straight to him out of the night shadows. There +was something about her, and in the moment, that suddenly touched him +with a saddening sweetness too keen to be borne; the forget-me-not +finger of the flying hour that could not come again was laid on his +soul, and he felt the tears start from his heart on their journey to his +eyes. He knew that he should always remember that moment. She knew it, +too. She put her hand to her cheek and turned away from him a little +tremulously. Both were silent. + +They had been together since early morning. Plattville was proud of him. +Many a friendly glance from the folk who jostled about them favored his +suit and wished both of them well, and many lips, opening to speak to +Harkless in passing, closed when their owners (more tactful than Mr. +Bardlock) looked a second time. + +Old Tom Martin, still perched alone On his high seat, saw them standing +by the tent-pole, and watched them from under his rusty hat brim. "I +reckon it's be'n three or four thousand years since I was young," he +sighed to himself; then, pushing his hat still further down over his +eyes: "I don't believe I'd ort to rightly look on at that." He +sighed again as he rose, and gently spoke the name of his dead wife: +"Marjie,--it's be'n lonesome, sometimes. I reckon you're mighty tired +waitin' for me, ever since sixty-four--yet maybe not; Ulysses S. Grant's +over on your side now, and perhaps you've got acquainted with him; you +always thought a good deal more of him than you did of me." + +"Do you see that tall old man up there?" said Helen, nodding her head +toward Martin. "I think I should like to know him. I'm sure I like him." + +"That is old Tom Martin." + +"I know." + +"I was sorry and ashamed about all that conspicuousness and shouting. +It must have been very unpleasant for you; it must have been so, for a +stranger. Please try to forgive me for letting you in for it." + +"But I liked it. It was 'all in the family,' and it was so jolly and +good-natured, and that dear old man was so bright. Do you know," she +said softly, "I don't think I'm such a stranger--I--I think I love all +these people a great deal--in spite of having known them only two days." + +At that a wild exhilaration possessed him. He wanted to shake hands +with everybody in the tent, to tell them all that he loved them with +his whole heart, but, what was vastly more important, _she_ loved them a +great deal--in spite of having known them only two days! + +He made the horses prance on the homeward drive, and once, when she +told him that she had read a good many of his political columns in the +"Herald," he ran them into a fence. After this it occurred to him that +they were nearing their destination and had come at a perversely sharp +gait; so he held the roans down to a snail's pace (if it be true that a +snail's natural gait is not a trot) for the rest of the way, while they +talked of Tom Meredith and books and music, and discovered that they +differed widely about Ibsen. + +They found Mr. Fisbee in the yard, talking to Judge Briscoe. As they +drove up, and before the horses had quite stopped, Helen leaped to the +ground and ran to the old scholar with both her hands outstretched to +him. He looked timidly at her, and took the hands she gave him; then +he produced from his pocket a yellow telegraph envelope, watching +her anxiously as she received it. However, she seemed to attach no +particular importance to it, and, instead of opening it, leaned toward +him, still holding one of his hands. + +"These awful old men!" Harkless groaned inwardly as he handed the horses +over to the judge. "I dare say _he_'ll kiss her, too." But, when the +editor and Mr. Willetts had gone, it was Helen who kissed Fisbee. + +"They're coming out to spend the evening, aren't they?" asked Briscoe, +nodding to the young men as they set off down the road. + +"Lige has to come whether he wants to or not," Minnie laughed, rather +consciously; "It's his turn to-night to look after Mr. Harkless." + +"I guess he won't mind coming," said the judge. + +"Well," returned his daughter, glancing at Helen, who stood apart, +reading the telegram to Fisbee, "I know if he follows Mr. Harkless +he'll get here pretty soon after supper--as soon as the moon comes up, +anyway." + +The editor of the "Herald" was late to his supper that evening. It was +dusk when he reached the hotel, and, for the first time in history, a +gentleman sat down to meat in that house of entertainment in evening +dress. There was no one in the diningroom when he went in; the other +boarders had finished, and it was Cynthia's "evening out," but the +landlord came and attended to his guests' wants himself, and chatted +with him while he ate. + +"There's a picture of Henry Clay," remarked Landis, in obvious relevancy +to his companion's attire, "there's a picture of Henry Clay somewheres +about the house in a swallow-tail coat. Governor Ray spoke here in one +in early times, Bodeffer says, except it was higher built up 'n yourn +about the collar, and had brass buttons, I think. Ole man Wimby was +here to-night," the landlord continued, changing the subject. "He +waited around fer ye a good while. He's be'n mighty wrought up sence the +trouble this morning, an' wanted to see ye bad. I don't know 'f you +seen it, but that feller 't knocked your hat off was mighty near tore +to pieces in the crowd before he got away. 'Seems some the boys +re-_cog_-nized him as one the Cross-Roads Skillets, and sicked the dogs +on him, and he had a pretty mean time of it. Wimby says the Cross-Roads +folks'll be worse 'n ever, and, says he, 'Tell him to stick close to +town,' says he. 'They'll do anything to git him now,' says he, 'and +_resk_ anything.' I told him you wouldn't take no stock in it, but, see +here, don't you put nothin' too mean fer them folks. I tell you, Mr. +Harkless, plenty of us are scared fer ye." + +The good fellow was so earnest that when the editor's meal was finished +and he would have departed, Landis detained him almost by force until +the arrival of Mr. Willetts, who, the landlord knew, was his allotted +escort' for the evening. When Lige came (wearing a new tie, a pink one +he had hastened to buy as soon as his engagements had allowed him +the opportunity), Mr. Landis hissed a savage word of reproach for his +tardiness in his ear, and whisperingly bade him not let the other out +of reach that night, to which Willetts replied with a nod implying his +trustworthiness; and the young men set off in the darkness. + +Harkless wondered if his costume were not an injustice to his companion, +but he did not regret it; he would wear his best court suit, his laces +and velvets, for deference to that lady. It was a painful thing to +remember his dusty rustiness of the night before, the awful Carlow cut +of his coat, and his formless black cravat; the same felt hat he wore +again to-night, perforce, but it was brushed--brushed almost to holes in +spots, and somehow he had added a touch of shape to it. His dress-coat +was an antique; fashions had changed, no doubt; he did not know; +possibly she would recognize its vintage--but it was a dress-coat. + +Lige walked along talking; Harkless answering "Yes" and "No" at random. +The woodland-spiced air was like champagne to him; the road under foot +so elastic and springy that he felt like a thoroughbred before a race; +he wanted to lift his foot knee-high at every step, he had so much +energy to spare. In the midst of a speech of Lige's about the look of +the wheat he suddenly gave out a sigh so deep, so heartfelt, so vibrant, +so profound, that Willetts turned with astonishment; but when his eye +reached his companion's face, Harkless was smiling. The editor extended +his hand. + +"Shake hands, Lige," he cried. + +The moon peeped over the shoulder of an eastern wood, and the young +men suddenly descried their long shadows stretching in front of them. +Harkless turned to look at the silhouetted town, the tree-tops and roofs +and the Methodist church spire, silvered at the edges. + +"Do you see that town, Willetts?" he asked, laying his fingers on his +companion's sleeve. "That's the best town in the United States!" + +"I always kind of thought you didn't much like it," said the other, +puzzled. "Seemed to me you always sort of wished you hadn't settled +here." + +A little further on they passed Mr. Fisbee. He was walking into the +village with his head thrown back, a strange thing for him. They gave +him a friendly greeting and passed on. + +"Well, it beats me!" observed Lige, when the old man was out of hearing. +"He's be'n there to supper again. He was there all day yesterday, and +with 'em at the lecture, and at the deepo day before and he looks like +another man, and dressed up--for him--to beat thunder----What do you +expect makes him so thick out there all of a sudden?" + +"I hadn't thought about it. The judge and he have been friends a good +while, haven't they?" + +"Yes, three or four years; but not like this. It beats _me_! He's all +upset over Miss Sherwood, I think. Old enough to be her grandfather, +too, the old----" + +His companion stopped him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. + +"Listen!" + +They were at the corner of the Briscoe picket fence, and a sound lilted +through the stillness--a touch on the keys that Harkless knew. "Listen," +he whispered. + +It was the "Moonlight Sonata" that Helen was playing. "It's a pretty +piece," observed Lige after a time. John could have choked him, but he +answered: "Yes, it is seraphic." + +"Who made it up?" pursued Mr. Willetts. + +"Beethoven." + +"Foreigner, I expect. Yet in some way or another makes me think of +fishing down on the Wabash bend in Vigo, and camping out nights like +this; it's a mighty pretty country around there--especially at night." + +The sonata was finished, and then she sang--sang the "Angel's Serenade." +As the soft soprano lifted and fell in the modulations of that song +there was in its timbre, apart from the pure, amber music of it, a +questing, seeking pathos, and Willetts felt the hand on his shoulder +tighten and then relax; and, as the song ended, he saw that his +companion's eyes were shining and moist. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. NIGHT: IT IS BAD LUCK TO SING BEFORE BREAKFAST + +There was a lace of faint mists along the creek and beyond, when John +and Helen reached their bench (of course they went back there), and +broken roundelays were croaking from a bayou up the stream, where rakish +frogs held carnival in resentment of the lonesomeness. The air was still +and close. Hundreds of fire-flies coquetted with the darkness amongst +the trees across the water, glinting from unexpected spots, shading +their little lanterns for a second to glow again from other shadows. The +sky was a wonderful olive green; a lazy cloud drifted in it and lapped +itself athwart the moon. + +"The dead painters design the skies for us each day and night, I think," +Helen said, as she dropped a little scarf from her shoulders and leaned +back on the bench. "It must be the only way to keep them happy and busy +'up there.' They let them take turns, and those not on duty, probably +float around and criticise." + +"They've given a good man his turn to-night," said John; "some quiet +colorist, a poetic, friendly soul, no Turner--though I think I've seen a +Turner sunset or two in Plattville." + +"It was a sculptor's sunset this evening. Did you see it?--great +massy clouds piled heap on heap, almost with violence. I'm sure it was +Michelangelo. The judge didn't think it meant Michelangelo; he thought +it meant rain." + +"Michelangelo gets a chance rather often, doesn't he, considering the +number of art people there must be over there? I believe I've seen a +good many sunsets of his, and a few dawns, too; the dawns not for a +long time--I used to see them more frequently toward the close of senior +year, when we sat up all night talking, knowing we'd lose one another +soon, and trying to hold on as long as we could." + +She turned to him with a little frown. "Why have you never let Tom +Meredith know you were living so near him, less than a hundred miles, +when he has always liked and admired you above all the rest of mankind? +I know that he has tried time and again to hear of you, but the other +men wrote that they knew nothing--that it was thought you had gone +abroad. I had heard of you, and so must he have seen your name in the +Rouen papers--about the 'White-Caps,' and in politics--but he would +never dream of connecting the Plattville Mr. Harkless with _his_ Mr. +Harkless, though _I_ did, just a little, and rather vaguely. I knew, of +course, when you came into the lecture. But why haven't you written to +my cousin?" + +"Rouen seems a long way from here," he answered quietly. "I've only been +there once--half a day on business. Except that, I've never been further +away than Amo or Gainesville, for a convention or to make a speech, +since I came here." + +"Wicked!" she exclaimed, "To shut yourself up like this! I said it was +fine to drop out of the world; but why have you cut off your old friends +from you? Why haven't you had a relapse, now and then, and come over +to hear Ysaye play and Melba sing, or to see Mansfield or Henry Irving, +when we have had them? And do you think you've been quite fair to Tom? +What right had you to assume that he had forgotten you?" + +"Oh, I didn't exactly mean forgotten," he said, pulling a blade of grass +to and fro between his fingers, staring at it absently. "It's only that +I have dropped out of the world, you know. I kept track of every one, +saw most of my friends, or corresponded, now and then, for a year or so +after I left college; but people don't miss you much after a while. +They rather expected me to do a lot of things, in a way, you know, and +I wasn't doing them. I was glad to get away. I always had an itch for +newspaper work, and I went on a New York paper. Maybe it was the wrong +paper; at least, I wasn't fit for it. There was something in the side +of life I saw, too, not only on the paper, that made me heart-sick; and +then the rush and fight and scramble to be first, to beat the other man. +Probably I am too squeamish. I saw classmates and college friends diving +into it, bound to come out ahead, dear old, honest, frank fellows, who +had been so happy-go-lucky and kind and gay, growing too busy to meet +and be good to any man who couldn't be good to them, asking (more +delicately) the eternal question, 'What does it get me?' You might think +I bad-met with unkindness; but it was not so; it was the other way more +than I deserved. But the cruel competition, the thousands fighting for +places, the multitude scrambling for each ginger-bread baton, the cold +faces on the streets--perhaps it's all right and good; of course it has +to _be_--but I wanted to get out of it, though I didn't want to come +_here_. That was chance. A new man bought the paper I was working for, +and its policy changed. Many of the same men still wrote for it, facing +cheerfully about and advocating a tricky theory, vehement champions of a +set of personal schemers and waxy images." + +He spoke with feeling; but now, as though a trifle ashamed of too much +seriousness, and justifiably afraid of talking like one of his own +editorials, he took a lighter tone. "I had been taken on the paper +through a friend and not through merit, and by the same undeserved, +kindly influence, after a month or so I was set to writing short +political editorials, and was at it nearly two years. When the paper +changed hands the new proprietor indicated that he would be willing to +have me stay and write the other way. I refused; and it became somewhat +plain to me that I was beginning to be a failure. + +"A cousin of mine, the only relative I had, died in Chicago, and I went +to his funeral. I happened to hear of the Carlow 'Herald' through an +agent there, the most eloquent gentleman I ever met. I was younger, and +even more thoughtless than now, and I had a little money and I handed it +over for the 'Herald.' I wanted to run a paper myself, and to build up a +power! And then, though I only lived here the first few years of my +life and all the rest of it had been spent in the East, I was born in +Indiana, and, in a way, the thought of coming back to a life-work in my +native State appealed to me. I always had a dim sort of feeling that +the people out in these parts knew more--had more sense and were less +artificial, I mean--and were kinder, and tried less to be somebody else, +than almost any other people anywhere. And I believe it's so. It's dull, +here in Carlow, of course--that is, it used to be. The agent explained +that I could make the paper a daily at once, with an enormous +circulation in the country. I was very, very young. Then I came here and +saw what I had got. Possibly it is because I am sensitive that I never +let Tom know. They expected me to amount to something; but I don't +believe his welcome would be less hearty to a failure--he is a good +heart." + +"Failure!" she cried, and clapped her hands and laughed. + +"I'm really not very tragic about it, though I must seem consumed with +self-pity," he returned, smiling. "It is only that I have dropped out of +the world while Tom is still in it." + +"Dropped out of the world!'" she echoed, impatiently. "Can't you see +you've dropped into it? That you----" + +"Last night I was honored by your praise of my graceful mode of quitting +it!" + +"And so you wish me to be consistent!" she retorted scornfully. "What +becomes of your gallantry when _we_ abide by reason?" + +"True enough; equality is a denial of privilege." + +"And privilege is a denial of equality. I don't like that at all." +She turned a serious, suddenly illuminated face upon him and spoke +earnestly. "It's my hobby, I should tell you, and I'm very tired of that +nonsense about 'women always sounding the personal note.' It _should_ +be sounded as we would sound it. And I think we could bear the loss of +'privilege'--" + +He laughed and raised a protesting hand. "But _we_ couldn't." + +"No, you couldn't; it's the ribbon of superiority in your buttonhole. +I know several women who manage to live without men to open doors for +them, and I think I could bear to let a man pass before me now and then, +or wear his hat in an office where I happened to be; and I could get my +own ice at a dance, I think, possibly with even less fuss and scramble +than I've sometimes observed in the young men who have done it for me. +But you know you would never let us do things for ourselves, no matter +what legal equality might be declared, even when we get representation +for our taxation. You will never be able to deny yourselves giving +us our 'privilege.' I hate being waited on. I'd rather do things for +myself." + +She was so earnest in her satire, so full of scorn and so serious in +her meaning, and there was such a contrast between what she said and her +person; she looked so preeminently the pretty marquise, all silks and +softness, the little exquisite, so essentially to be waited on and +helped, to have cloaks thrown over the dampness for her to tread upon, +to be run about for--he could see half a dozen youths rushing about +for her ices, for her carriage, for her chaperone, for her wrap, at +dances--that to save his life he could not repress a chuckle. He managed +to make it inaudible, however; and it was as well that he did. + +"I understand your love of newspaper work," she went on, less +vehemently, but not less earnestly. "I have always wanted to do it +myself, wanted to immensely. I can't think of any more fascinating way +of earning one's living. And I know I could do it. Why don't you make +the 'Herald' a daily?" + +To hear her speak of "earning one's living" was too much for him. +She gave the impression of riches, not only for the fine texture and +fashioning of her garments, but one felt that luxuries had wrapped +her from her birth. He had not had much time to wonder what she did in +Plattville; it had occurred to him that it was a little odd that she +could plan to spend any extent of time there, even if she had liked +Minnie Briscoe at school. He felt that she must have been sheltered and +petted and waited on all her life; one could not help yearning to wait +on her. + +He answered inarticulately, "Oh, some day," in reply to her question, +and then burst into outright laughter. + +"I might have known you wouldn't take me seriously," she said with no +indignation, only a sad wistfulness. "I am well used to it. I think it +is because I am not tall; people take big girls with more gravity. Big +people are nearly always listened to." + +"Listened to?" he said, and felt that he must throw himself on his knees +before her. "You oughtn't to mind being Titania. She was listened to, +you----" + +She sprang to her feet and her eyes flashed. "Do you think personal +comment is ever in good taste?" she cried fiercely, and in his surprise +he almost fell off the bench. "If there is one thing I cannot bear, +it is to be told that I am '_small_' I am not! Every one who isn't a +giantess isn't '_small_'. I _hate_ personalities! I am a great deal over +five feet, a great deal more than that. I----" + +"Please, _please_," he said, "I didn't----" + +"Don't say you are sorry," she interrupted, and in spite of his +contrition he found her angry voice delicious, it was still so sweet, +hot with indignation, but ringing, not harsh. "Don't say you didn't mean +it; because you did! You can't unsay it, you cannot alter it! Ah!" She +drew in her breath with a sharp sigh, and covering her face with her +hands, sank back upon the bench. "I will not cry," she said, not so +firmly as she thought she did. + +"My blessed child!" he cried, in great distress and perturbation, "What +have I done? I--I----" + +"Call me 'small' all you like!" she answered. "I don't care. It isn't +that. You mustn't think me such an imbecile." She dropped her hands from +her face and shook the tears from her eyes with a mournful laugh. He saw +that her hands were clenched tightly and her lip trembled. "I will not +cry!" she said in a low voice. + +"Somebody ought to murder me; I ought to have thought--personalities +_are_ hideous----" + +"Don't! It wasn't that." + +"I ought to be shot----" + +"Ah, please don't say that," she said, shuddering; "please don't, not +even as a joke--after last night." + +"But I ought to be for hurting you, indeed----" + +She laughed sadly, again. "It wasn't that. I don't care what you call +me. I am small. You'll try to forgive me for being such a baby? I didn't +mean anything I said. I haven't acted so badly since I was a child." + +"It's my fault, all of it. I've tired you out. And I let you get into +that crush at the circus--" he was going on, remorsefully. + +"_That_!" she interrupted. "I don't think I would have missed the +circus." He had a thrilling hope that she meant the tent-pole; she +looked as if she meant that, but he dared not let himself believe it. + +"No," he continued; "I have been so madly happy in being with you that +I've fairly worn out your patience. I've haunted you all day, and I +have----" + +"All that has nothing to do with it," she said, slowly. "Just after you +left, this afternoon, I found that I could not stay here. My people are +going abroad, to Dresden, at once, and I must go with them. That's what +almost made me cry. I leave to-morrow morning." + +He felt something strike at his heart. In the sudden sense of dearth +he had no astonishment that she should betray such agitation over +her departure from a place she had known so little, and friends who +certainly were not part of her life. He rose to his feet, and, resting +his arm against a sycamore, stood staring away from her at nothing. + +She did not move. There was a long silence. + +He had wakened suddenly; the skies had been sapphire, the sward emerald, +Plattville a Camelot of romance; to be there, enchantment--and now, like +a meteor burned out in a breath, the necromancy fell away and he gazed +into desolate years. The thought of the Square, his dusty office, the +bleak length of Main Street, as they should appear to-morrow, gave him +a faint physical sickness. To-day it had all been touched to beauty; he +had felt fit to live and work there a thousand years--a fool's dream, +and the waking was to emptiness. He should die now of hunger and thirst +in that Sahara; he hoped the Fates would let it be soon--but he knew +they would not; knew that this was hysteria, that in his endurance he +should plod on, plod, plod dustily on, through dingy, lonely years. + +There was a rumble of thunder far out on the western prairie. A cold +breath stole through the hot stillness, and an arm of vapor reached out +between the moon and the quiet earth. Darkness fell. The man and the +girl kept silence between them. They might have been two sad guardians +of the black little stream that splashed unseen at their feet. Now and +then an echo of far away lightning faintly illumined them with a green +light. Thunder rolled nearer, ominously; the gods were driving their +chariots over the bridge. The chill breath passed, leaving the air again +to its hot inertia. + +"I did not want to go," she said, at last, with tears just below the +surface of her voice. "I wanted to stay here, but he--they wouldn't--I +can't." + +"Wanted to stay here?" he said, huskily, not turning. "Here?" + +"Yes." + +"In Rouen, you mean?" + +"In Plattville." + +"In Plattville?" He turned now, astounded. + +"Yes; wouldn't you have taken me on the 'Herald'?" She rose and came +toward him. "I could have supported myself here if you would--and I've +studied how newspapers are made; I know I could have earned a wage. We +could have made it a daily." He searched in vain for a trace of raillery +in her voice; there was none; she seemed to intend her words to be taken +literally. + +"I don't understand," he said. "I don't know what you mean." + +"I mean that I want to stay here; that I ought to stay here; that my +conscience tells me I should--but I can't and it makes me very unhappy. +That was why I acted so badly." + +"Your conscience!" he cried. + +"Oh, I know what a jumble and puzzle it must seem to you." + +"I only know one thing; that you are going away to-morrow morning, and +that I shall never see you again." + +The darkness had grown heavy. They could not see each other; but a wan +glimmer gave him a fleeting, misty view of her; she stood half-turned +away from him, her hand to her cheek in the uncertain fashion of his +great moment of the afternoon; her eyes-he saw in the flying picture +that he caught--were adorably troubled and her hand trembled. She had +been irresistible in her gaiety; but now that a mysterious distress +assailed her, the reason for which he had no guess, she was so divinely +pathetic; and seemed such a rich and lovely and sad and happy thing to +have come into his life only to go out of it; and he was so full of +the prophetic sense of loss of her--it seemed so much like losing +everything--that he found too much to say to be able to say anything. + +He tried to speak, and choked a little. A big drop of rain fell on his +bare head. Neither of them noticed the weather or cared for it. They +stood with the renewed blackness hanging like a thick drapery between +them. + +"Can--can you--tell me why you think you ought not to go?" he whispered, +finally, with a great effort. + +"No; not now. But I know you would think I am right in wanting to stay," +she cried, impulsively. "I know you would, if you knew about it--but I +can't, I can't. I must go in the morning." + +"I should always think you right," he answered in an unsteady tone, +"Always!" He went over to the bench, fumbled about for his hat, and +picked it up. + +"Come," he said, gently, "I am going now." + +She stood quite motionless for a full minute or longer; then, without a +word, she moved toward the house. He went to her with hands extended to +find her, and his fingers touched her sleeve. Then together and silently +they found the garden-path; and followed its dim length. In the orchard +he touched her sleeve again and led the way. + +As they came out behind the house she detained him. Stopping short, she +shook his hand from her arm. She spoke in a single breath, as if it were +all one word: + +"Will you tell me why you go? It is not late. Why do you wish to leave +me, when I shall not see you again?" + +"The Lord be good to me!" he broke out, all his long-pent passion of +dreams rushing to his lips, now that the barrier fell. "Don't you see +it is because I can't bear to let you go? I hoped to get away without +saying it. I want to be alone. I want to be with myself and try to +realize. I didn't want to make a babbling idiot of myself--but I am! +It is because I don't want another second of your sweetness to leave +an added pain when you've gone. It is because I don't want to hear your +voice again, to have it haunt me in the loneliness you will leave--but +it's useless, useless! I shall hear it always, just as I shall always +see your face, just as I have heard your voice and seen your face these +seven years--ever since I first saw you, a child at Winter Harbor. I +forgot for a while; I thought it was a girl I had made up out of my own +heart, but it was you--you always! The impression I thought nothing of +at the time, just the merest touch on my heart, light as it was, grew +and grew deeper until it was there forever. You've known me twenty-four +hours, and I understand what you think of me for speaking to you like +this. If I had known you for years and had waited and had the right to +speak and keep your respect, what have I to offer you? I, couldn't even +take care of you if you went mad as I and listened. I've no excuse for +this raving. Yes, I have!" + +He saw her in another second of lightning, a sudden, bright one. Her +back was turned to him; she had taken a few startled steps from him. + +"Ah," he cried, "you are glad enough, now, to see me go! I knew it. I +wanted to spare myself that. I tried not to be a hysterical fool in your +eyes." He turned aside and his head fell on his breast. "God help me," +he said, "what will this place be to me now?" + +The breeze had risen; it gathered force; it was a chill wind, and there +rose a wailing on the prairie. Drops of rain began to fall. + +"You will not think a question implied in this," he said more +composedly, and with an unhappy laugh at himself. "I believe you will +not think me capable of asking you if you care----" + +"No," she answered; "I--I do not love you." + +"Ah! Was it a question, after all? I--you read me better than I do, +perhaps--but if I asked, I knew the answer." + +She made as if to speak again, but words refused her. + +After a moment, "Good-by," he said, very steadily. "I thank you for +the charity that has given me this little time with you--it will always +be--precious to me--I shall always be your servant." His steadiness did +not carry him to the end of his sentence. "Good-by." + +She started toward him and stopped, without his seeing her. She answered +nothing; but stretched out her hand to him and then let it fall quickly. + +"Good-by," he said again. "I shall go out the orchard gate. Please tell +them good-night for me. Won't you speak to me? Good-by." + +He stood waiting while the rising wind blew their garments about them. +She leaned against the wall of the house. "Won't you say good-by and +tell me you can forget my----" + +She did not speak. + +"No!" he cried, wildly. "Since you don't forget it! I have spoiled +what might have been a pleasant memory for you, and I know it. You were +already troubled, and I have added, and you won't forget it, nor shall +I--nor shall I! Don't say good-by--I can say it for both of us. God +bless you--and good-by, good-by, good-by!" + +He crushed his hat down over his eyes and ran toward the orchard gate. +For a moment lightning flashed repeatedly; she saw him go out the gate +and disappear into sudden darkness. He ran through the field and came +out on the road. Heaven and earth were revealed again for a dazzling +white second. From horizon to horizon rolled clouds contorted like +an illimitable field of inverted haystacks, and beneath them enormous +volumes of pale vapor were tumbling in the west, advancing eastward with +sinister swiftness. She ran to a little knoll at the corner of the house +and saw him set his face to the storm. She cried aloud to him with all +her strength and would have followed, but the wind took the words out of +her mouth and drove her back cowering to the shelter of the house. + +Out on the road the dust came lashing and stinging him like a thousand +nettles; it smothered him, and beat upon him so that he covered his face +with his sleeve and fought into the storm shoulder foremost, dimly glad +of its rage, scarcely conscious of it, keeping westward on his way to +nowhere. West or east, south or north--it was all one to him. The few +heavy drops that fell boiling into the dust ceased to come; the rain +withheld while the wind-kings rode on earth. On he went in spite of +them. On and on, running blindly when he could run at all. At least, the +wind-kings were company. He had been so long alone. He could remember no +home that had ever been his since he was a little child, neither father +nor mother, no one who belonged to him or to whom he belonged, except +one cousin, an old man who was dead. For a day his dreams had found in a +girl's eyes the precious thing that is called home--oh, the wild fancy! +He laughed aloud. + +There was a startling answer; a lance of living fire hurled from +the sky, riving the fields before his eyes, while crash on crash of +artillery numbed his ears. With that his common-sense awoke and he +looked about him. He was almost two miles from town; the nearest house +was the Briscoes' far down the road. He knew the rain would come now. +There was a big oak near him at the roadside. He stepped under its +sheltering branches and leaned against the great trunk, wiping the +perspiration and dust from his face. A moment of stunned quiet had +succeeded the peal of thunder. It was followed by several moments of +incessant lightning that played along the road and danced in the fields. +From that intolerable brightness he turned his head and saw, standing +against the fence, five feet away, a man, leaning over the top rail and +looking at him. + + + +The same flash staggered brilliantly before Helen's eyes as she crouched +against the back steps of the brick house. It scarred a picture like a +marine of big waves: the tossing tops of the orchard trees; for in the +same second the full fury of the storm was loosed, wind and rain and +hail. It drove her against the kitchen door with cruel force; the latch +lifted, the door blew open violently, and she struggled to close it in +vain. The house seemed to rock. A lamp flickered toward her from the +inner doorway and was blown out. + +"Helen! Helen!" came Minnie's voice, anxiously. "Is that you? We were +coming to look for you. Did you get wet?" + +Mr. Willetts threw his weight against the door and managed to close it. +Then Minnie found her friend's hand and led her through the dark hall to +the parlor where the judge sat, placidly reading by a student-lamp. + +Lige chuckled as they left the kitchen. "I guess you didn't try too hard +to shut that door, Harkless," he said, and then, when they came into the +lighted room, "Why, where _is_ Harkless?" he asked. "Didn't he come with +us from the kitchen?" + +"No," answered Helen, faintly; "he's gone." She sank upon the sofa and +drew her hand across her eyes as if to shade them from too sudden light. + +"Gone!" The judge dropped his book and stared across the table at the +girl. "Gone! When?" + +"Ten minutes--five--half an hour--I don't know. Before the storm +commenced." + +"Oh!" The old gentleman appeared to be reassured. "Probably he had work +to do and wanted to get in before the rain." + +But Lige Willetts was turning pale. He swallowed several times with +difficulty. "Which way did he go? He didn't come around the house; we +were out there till the storm broke." + +"He went by the orchard gate. When he got to the road he turned that +way." She pointed to the west. + +"He must have been crazy!" exclaimed the judge. "What possessed the +fellow?" + +"I couldn't stop him. I didn't know how." She looked at her three +companions, slowly and with growing terror, from one face to another. +Minnie's eyes were wide and she had unconsciously grasped Lige's arm; +the young man was looking straight before him; the judge got up and +walked nervously back and forth. Helen rose to her feet swiftly and went +toward the old man, her hands pressed to her bosom. + +"Ah!" she cried out, sharply, "I had forgotten _that_! You don't think +they--you don't think----" + +"I know what I think," Lige broke in; "I think I'd ought to be hanged +for letting him out of my sight. Maybe it's all right; maybe he turned +and started right back for town--and got there. But I had no business +to leave him, and if I can I'll catch up with him yet." He went to the +front door, and, opening it, let in a tornado of wind and flood of water +that beat him back; sheets of rain blew in horizontally, in spite of the +porch beyond. + +Briscoe followed him. "Don't be a fool, Lige," he said. "You hardly +expect to go out in that." Lige shook his head; it needed them both +to get the door closed. The young man leaned against it and passed his +sleeve across his wet brow. "I hadn't ought to have left him." + +"Don't scare the girls," whispered the other; then in a louder tone: +"All I'm afraid of is that he'll get blown to pieces or catch his death +of cold. That's all there is to worry about. Those scalawags wouldn't +try it again so soon after last night. I'm not bothering about that; not +at all. That needn't worry anybody." + +"But this morning----" + +"Pshaw! He's likely home and dry by this time--all foolishness; don't be +an old woman." The two men reentered the room and found Helen clinging +to Minnie's hand on the sofa. She looked up at them quickly. + +"Do you think--do you--what do you--" Her voice shook so that she could +not go on. + +The judge pinched her cheek and patted it. "I think he's home and dry, +but I think he got wet first; that's what I think. Never you fear, he's +a good hand at taking care of himself. Sit down, Lige. You can't go for +a while." Nor could he. It was long before he could venture out; the +storm raged and roared without abatement; it was Carlow's worst since +'Fifty-one, the old gentleman said. They heard the great limbs crack and +break outside, while the thunder boomed and the wind ripped at the +eaves till it seemed the roof must go. Meanwhile the judge, after some +apology, lit his pipe and told long stories of the storms of early +days and of odd freaks of the wind. He talked on calmly, the picture of +repose, and blew rings above his head, but Helen saw that one of his +big slippers beat an unceasing little tattoo on the carpet. She sat with +fixed eyes, in silence, holding Minnie's hand tightly; and her face was +colorless, and grew whiter as the slow hours dragged by. + +Every moment Mr. Willetts became more restless, though assuring the +ladies he had no anxiety regarding Mr. Harkless; it was only his own +dereliction of duty that he regretted; the boys would have the laugh +on him, he said. But he visibly chafed more and more under the judge's +stories; and constantly rose to peer out of the window into the wrack +and turmoil, or uneasily shifted in his chair. Once or twice he struck +his hands together with muttered ejaculations. At last there was a lull +in the fury without, and, as soon as it was perceptible, he declared his +intention of making his way into town; he had ought to have went before, +he declared, apprehensively; and then, with immediate amendment, of +course he would find the editor at work in the "Herald" office; there +wasn't the slightest doubt of that; he agreed with the judge, but he +better see about it. He would return early in the morning to bid Miss +Sherwood good-by; hoped she'd come back, some day; hoped it wasn't her +last visit to Plattville. They gave him an umbrella and he plunged out +into the night, and as they stood watching him for a moment from the +door, the old man calling after him cheery good-nights and laughing +messages to Harkless, they could hear his feet slosh into the puddles +and see him fight with his umbrella when he got out into the road. + +Helen's room was over the porch, the windows facing north, looking out +upon the pike and across the fields beyond. "Please don't light the +lamp, Minnie," she said, when they had gone upstairs. "I don't need a +light." Miss Briscoe was flitting about the room, hunting for matches. +In the darkness she came to her friend, and laid a kind, large hand on +Helen's eyes, and the hand became wet. She drew Helen's head down on her +shoulder and sat beside her on the bed. + +"Sweetheart, you mustn't fret," she soothed, in motherly fashion. +"Don't you worry, dear. He's all right. It isn't your fault, dear. They +wouldn't come on a night like this." + +But Helen drew away and went to the window, flattening her arm against +the pane, her forehead pressed against her arm. She had let him go; she +had let him go alone. She had forgotten the danger that always beset +him. She had been so crazy, she had seen nothing, thought of nothing. +She had let him go into that, and into the storm, alone. Who knew better +than she how cruel they were? She had seen the fire leap from the white +blossom and heard the ball whistle, the ball they had meant for his +heart, that good, great heart. She had run to him the night before--why +had she let him go into the unknown and the storm to-night? But how +could she have stopped him? How could she have kept him, after what he +had said? She peered into the night through distorting tears. + +The wind had gone down a little, but only a little, and the electrical +flashes danced all around the horizon in magnificent display, sometimes +far away, sometimes dazingly near, the darkness trebly deep between the +intervals when the long sweep of flat lands lay in dazzling clearness, +clean-cut in the washed air to the finest detail of stricken field and +heaving woodland. A staggering flame clove earth and sky; sheets of +light came following it, and a frightful uproar shook the house and +rattled the casements, but over the crash of thunder Minnie heard her +friend's loud scream and saw her spring back from the window with both +hands, palm outward, pressed to her face. She leaped to her and threw +her arms about her. + +"What is it?" + +"Look!" Helen dragged her to the window. "At the next flash--the fence +beyond the meadow----" + +"What was it? What was it like?" The lightning flashed incessantly. +Helen tried to point; her hand only jerked from side to side. + +"_Look_!" she cried. + +"I see nothing but the lightning," Minnie answered, breathlessly. + +"Oh, the _fence_! The fence--and in the field!" + +"_Helen_! What was it _like_?" + +"Ah-ah!" she panted, "a long line of white--horrible white----" + +"What _like_?" Minnie turned from the window and caught the other's +wrist in a fluttering clasp. + +"Minnie, Minnie! Like long white gowns and cowls crossing the fence." +Helen released her wrist, and put both hands on Minnie's cheeks, forcing +her around to face the pane. "You must look--you must look," she cried. + +"They wouldn't do it, they wouldn't--it _isn't_!" Minnie cried. "They +couldn't come in the storm. They wouldn't do it in the pouring rain!" + +"Yes! Such things would mind the rain!" She burst into hysterical +laughter, and Minnie, almost as unnerved, caught her about the waist. +"They would mind the rain. They would fear a storm! Ha, ha, ha! +Yes--yes! And I let him go--I let him go!" + +Pressing close together, shuddering, clasping each other's waists, the +two girls peered out at the flickering landscape. + +"_Look_!" + +Up from the distant fence that bordered the northern side of Jones's +field, a pale, pelted, flapping thing reared itself, poised, and seemed, +just as the blackness came again, to drop to the ground. + +"Did you _see_?" + +But Minnie had thrown herself into a chair with a laugh of wild relief. +"My darling girl!" she cried. "Not a line of white things--just one--Mr. +Jones's old scarecrow! And we saw it blown down!" + +"No, no, no! I saw the others; they were in the field beyond. I saw +them! When I looked the first time they were nearly all on the fence. +This time we saw the last man crossing. Ah! I let him go alone!" + +Minnie sprang up and enfolded her. "No; you dear, imagining child, +you're upset and nervous--that's all the matter in the world. Don't +worry; don't, child, it's all right. Mr. Harkless is home and safe in +bed long ago. I know that old scarecrow on the fence like a book; you're +so unstrung you fancied the rest. He's all right; don't you bother, +dear." + +The big, motherly girl took her companion in her arms and rocked her +back and forth soothingly, and petted and reassured her, and then cried +a little with her, as a good-hearted girl always will with a friend. +Then she left her for the night with many a cheering word and tender +caress. "Get to sleep, dear," she called through the door when she had +closed it behind her. "You must, if you have to go in the morning--it +just breaks my heart. I don't know how we'll bear it without you. Father +will miss you almost as much as I will. Good-night. Don't bother +about that old white scarecrow. That's all it was. Good-night, dear, +good-night." + +"Good-night, dear," answered a plaintive little voice. Helen's hot cheek +pressed the pillow and tossed from side to side. By and by she turned +the pillow over; it had grown wet. The wind blew about the eaves and +blew itself out; she hardly heard it. Sleep would not come. She got +up and laved her burning eyes. Then she sat by the window. The storm's +strength was spent at last; the rain grew lighter and lighter, until +there was but the sound of running water and the drip, drip on the tin +roof of the porch. Only the thunder rumbling in the distance marked the +storm's course; the chariots of the gods rolling further and further +away, till they finally ceased to be heard altogether. The clouds parted +majestically, and then, between great curtains of mist, the day-star was +seen shining in the east. + +The night was hushed, and the peace that falls before dawn was upon +the wet, flat lands. Somewhere in the sodden grass a swamped cricket +chirped. From an outlying flange of the village a dog's howl rose +mournfully; was answered by another, far away, and by another and +another. The sonorous chorus rose above the village, died away, and +quiet fell again. + +Helen sat by the window, no comfort touching her heart. Tears coursed +her cheeks no longer, but her eyes were wide and staring, and her lips +parted, for the hush was broken by the far clamor of the court-house +bell ringing in the night. It rang, and rang, and rang, and rang. She +could not breathe. She threw open the window. The bell stopped. All was +quiet once more. The east was growing gray. + +Suddenly out of the stillness there came the sound of a horse galloping +over a wet road. He was coming like mad. Some one for a doctor? No; +the horse-hoofs grew louder, coming out from the town, coming this +way, coming faster and faster, coming _here_. There was a splashing and +trampling in front of the house and a sharp "Whoa!" In the dim gray of +first dawn she made out a man on a foam-flecked horse. He drew up at the +gate. + +A window to the right of hers went screeching up. She heard the judge +clear his throat before he spoke. + +"What is it? That's you, isn't it, Wiley? What is it?" He took a good +deal of time and coughed between the sentences. His voice was more than +ordinarily quiet, and it sounded husky. "What is it, Wiley?" + +"Judge, what time did Mr. Harkless leave here last night and which way +did he go?" + +There was a silence. The judge turned away from the window. Minnie was +standing just outside his door. "It must have been about half-past nine, +wasn't it, father?" she called in a shaking voice. "And, you know, Helen +thought he went west." + +"Wiley!" The old man leaned from the sill again. + +"Yes!" answered the man on horseback. + +"Wiley, he left about half-past nine--just before the storm. They think +he went west." + +"Much obliged. Willetts is so upset he isn't sure of anything." + + +"Wiley!" The old man's voice shook; Minnie began to cry aloud. The +horseman wheeled about and turned his animal's head toward town. +"Wiley!" + +"Yes." + +"Wiley, they haven't--you don't think they've got him?" + +"By God, judge," said the man on horseback, "I'm afraid they have!" + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE COURT-HOUSE BELL + +The court-house bell ringing in the night! No hesitating stroke of +Schofields' Henry, no uncertain touch, was on the rope. A loud, wild, +hurried clamor pealing out to wake the country-side, a rapid _clang! +clang! clang!_ that struck clear in to the spine. + +The court-house bell had tolled for the death of Morton, of Garfield, of +Hendricks; had rung joy-peals of peace after the war and after political +campaigns; but it had rung as it was ringing now only three times; once +when Hibbard's mill burned, once when Webb Landis killed Sep Bardlock +and intrenched himself in the lumber-yard and would not be taken till he +was shot through and through, and once when the Rouen accommodation was +wrecked within twenty yards of the station. + +Why was the bell ringing now? Men and women, startled into wide +wakefulness, groped to windows--no red mist hung over town or country. +What was it? The bell rang on. Its loud alarm beat increasingly into +men's hearts and quickened their throbbing to the rapid measure of +its own. Vague forms loomed in the gloaming. A horse, wildly ridden, +splashed through the town. There were shouts; voices called hoarsely. +Lamps began to gleam in the windows. Half-clad people emerged from their +houses, men slapping their braces on their shoulders as they ran out of +doors. Questions were shouted into the dimness. + +Then the news went over the town. + +It was cried from yard to yard, from group to group, from gate to gate, +and reached the furthermost confines. Runners shouted it as they sped +by; boys panted it, breathless; women with loosened hair stumbled into +darkling chambers and faltered it out to new-wakened sleepers; pale +girls clutching wraps at their throats whispered it across fences; the +sick, tossing on their hard beds, heard it. The bell clamored it far and +near; it spread over the country-side; it flew over the wires to distant +cities. The White-Caps had got Mr. Harkless! + +Lige Willetts had lost track of him out near Briscoes', it was said, and +had come in at midnight seeking him. He had found Parker, the "Herald" +foreman, and Ross Schofield, the typesetter, and Bud Tipworthy, the +devil, at work in the printing-room, but no sign of Harkless, there or +in the cottage. Together these had sought for him and had roused others, +who had inquired at every house where he might have gone for shelter, +and they had heard nothing. They had watched for his coming during the +slackening of the storm and he had not come, and there was nowhere he +could have gone. He was missing; only one thing could have happened. + +They had roused up Warren Smith, the prosecutor, the missing editor's +most intimate friend in Carlow, and Homer, the sheriff, and Jared Wiley, +the deputy. William Todd had rung the alarm. The first thing to do was +to find him. After that there would be trouble--if not before. It looked +as if there would be trouble before. The men tramping up to the muddy +Square in their shirt-sleeves were bulgy about the right hips; and when +Homer Tibbs joined Lum Landis at the hotel corner, and Landis saw that +Homer was carrying a shot-gun, Landis went back for his. A hastily sworn +posse galloped out Main Street. Women and children ran into neighbors' +yards and began to cry. Day was coming; and, as the light grew, men +swore and savagely kicked at the palings of fences that they passed. + +In the foreglow of dawn they gathered in the Square and listened to +Warren Smith, who made a speech from the court-house fence and warned +them to go slow. They answered him with angry shouts and hootings, but +he made his big voice heard, and bade them do nothing rash; no facts +were known, he said; it was far from certain that harm had been done, +and no one knew that the Six-Cross-Roads people had done it--even if +something had happened to Mr. Harkless. He declared that he spoke in +Harkless's name. Nothing could distress _him_ so much as for them to +defy the law, to take it out of the proper hands. Justice would be done. + +"Yes it will!" shouted a man below him, brandishing the butt of a +raw-hide whip above his head. "And while you jaw on about it here, he +may be tied up like a dog in the woods, shot full of holes by the men +you never lifted a finger to hender, because you want their votes when +you run for circuit judge. What are we doin' _here_? What's the good of +listening to you?" + +There was a yell at this, and those who heard the speaker would probably +have started for the Cross-Roads without further parley, had not a rumor +sprung up, which passed so rapidly from man to man that within five +minutes it was being turbulently discussed in every portion of the +crowd. The news came that the two shell-gamblers had wrenched a bar +out of a window under cover of the storm, had broken jail, and were +at large. Their threats of the day before were remembered now, with +convincing vividness. They had sworn repeatedly to Bardlock and to the +sheriff, and in the hearing of others, that they would "do" for the man +who took their money from them and had them arrested. The prosecuting +attorney, quickly perceiving the value of this complication in holding +back the mob that was already forming, called Homer from the crowd +and made him get up on the fence and confess that his prisoners had +escaped--at what time he did not know, probably toward the beginning of +the storm, when it was noisiest. + +"You see," cried the attorney, "there is nothing as yet of which we can +accuse the Cross-Roads. If our friend has been hurt, it is much more +likely that these crooks did it. They escaped in time to do it, and +we all know they were laying for him. You want to be mighty careful, +fellow-citizens. Homer is already in telegraphic communication with +every town around here, and we'll have those men before night. All +you've got to do is to control yourselves a little and go home quietly." +He could see that his words (except those in reference to returning +home--no one was going home) made an impression. There rose a babble of +shouting and argument and swearing that grew continually louder, and +the faces the lawyer looked down on were creased with perplexity, and +shadowed with an anger that settled darker and darker. + +Mr. Ephraim Watts, in spite of all confusion, clad as carefully as +upon the preceding day, deliberately climbed the fence and stood by the +lawyer and made a single steady gesture with his hand. He was listened +to at once, as his respect for the law was less notorious than his +irreverence for it, and he had been known in Carlow as a customarily +reckless man. They wanted illegal and desperate advice, and quieted down +to hear it. He spoke in his professionally calm voice. + +"Gentlemen, it seems to me that Mr. Smith and Mr. Ribshaw" (nodding to +the man with the rawhide whip) "are both right. What good are we doing +here? What we want to know is what's happened to Mr. Harkless. It looks +just now like the shell-men might have done it. Let's find out what they +done. Scatter and hunt for him. 'Soon as anything is known for certain, +Hibbard's mill whistle will blow three times. Keep on looking till it +does. _Then_" he finished, with a barely perceptible scornful smile at +the attorney, "_then_ we can decide on what had ought to be done." + +Six-Cross-Roads lay dark and steaming in the sun that morning. The forge +was silent, the saloon locked up, the roadway deserted, even by the +pigs. The broken old buggy stood rotting in the mud without a +single lean, little old man or woman--such were the children of +the Cross-Roads--to play about it. The fields were empty, and the +rag-stuffed windows blank, under the baleful glance of the horsemen +who galloped by at intervals, muttering curses, not always confining +themselves to muttering them. Once, when the deputy sheriff rode +through alone, a tattered black hound, more wolf than dog, half-emerged, +growling, from beneath one of the tumble-down barns, and was jerked back +into the darkness by his tail, with a snarl fiercer than his own, while +a gun-barrel shone for a second as it swung for a stroke on the brute's +head. The hound did not yelp or whine when the blow fell. He shut his +eyes twice, and slunk sullenly back to his place. + +The shanties might have received a volley or two from some of the +mounted bands, exasperated by futile searching, had not the escape of +Homer's prisoners made the guilt of the Cross-Roads appear doubtful in +the minds of many. As the morning waned, the advocates of the theory +that the gamblers had made away with Harkless grew in number. There came +a telegram from the Rouen chief of police that he had a clew to their +whereabouts; he thought they had succeeded in reaching Rouen, and it +began to be generally believed that they had escaped by the one-o'clock +freight, which had stopped to take on some empty cars at a side-track +a mile northwest of the town, across the fields from the Briscoe house. +Toward noon a party went out to examine the railroad embankment. + +Men began to come back into the village for breakfast by twos and +threes, though many kept on searching the woods, not feeling the need of +food, or caring if they did. Every grove and clump of underbrush, every +thicket, was ransacked; the waters of the creek, shallow for the most +part, but swollen overnight, were dragged at every pool. Nothing was +found; there was not a sign. + +The bar of the hotel was thronged all morning as the returning citizens +rapidly made their way thither, and those who had breakfasted and were +going out again paused for internal, as well as external, reinforcement. +The landlord, himself returned from a long hunt, set up his whiskey with +a lavish hand. + +"He was the best man we had, boys," said Landis, as he poured the +little glasses full. "We'd ort of sent him to the legislative halls of +Washington long ago. He'd of done us honor there; but we never thought +of doin' anything fer him; jest set 'round and let him build up the +town and give him empty thankyes. Drink hearty, gentlemen," he finished, +gloomily, "I don't grudge no liquor to-day--except to Lige Willetts." + +"He was a good man," said young William Todd, whose nose was red, not +from the whiskey. "I've about give up." + +Schofields' Henry drew his sleeve across his eyes. "He was the only man +in this whole city that didn't jab and nag at me when I done my best," +he exclaimed, with an increasing break in his utterance. "Many a good +word I've had from him when nobody in town done nothin' but laugh an' +rile an' badger me about my--my bell." And Schofields' Henry began to +cry openly. + +"He was a great hand with the chuldern," said one man. "Always have +something to say to 'em to make 'em laugh when he went by. 'Talk more to +them 'n he would to grown folks. Yes, sir." + +"They knowed _him_ all right," added another. "I reckon all of us did, +little and big." + +"It's goin' to seem mighty empty around here," said Ross Schofield. +"What's goin' to become o' the 'Herald' and the party in this district? +Where's the man to run either of 'em now. Like as not," he concluded +desperately, "the election'll go against us in the fall." + +Dibb Zane choked over his four fingers. "We might's well bust up this +dab-dusted ole town ef he's gone." + +"I don't know what's come over that Cynthy Tipworthy," said the +landlord. "She's waited table on him last two year, and her brother Bud +works at the 'Herald' office. She didn't say a word--only looked +and looked and looked--like a crazy woman; then her and Bud went off +together to hunt in the woods. They just tuck hold of each other's hands +like----" + +"That ain't nothin'," Homer Tibbs broke in. "You'd ort to've saw old Miz +Hathaway, that widder woman next door to us, when she heard it. He had +helped her to git her pension; and she tuck on worse 'n' anything I ever +hear--lot worse 'n' when Hathaway died." + +"I reckon there ain't many crazier than them two Bowlders, father and +son," said the postmaster, wiping the drops from his beard as he set his +glass on the bar. "They rid into town like a couple of wild Indians, the +old man beatin' that gray mare o' theirn till she was one big welt, and +he ain't natcherly no cruel man, either. I reckon Lige Willetts better +keep out of Hartley's way." + +"I keep out of no man's way," cried a voice behind him. Turning, they +saw Lige standing on the threshold of the door that led to the street. +In his hand he held the bridle of the horse he had ridden across the +sidewalk, and that now stood panting, with lowered head, half through +the doorway, beside his master. Lige was hatless, splashed with mud +from head to foot; his jaw was set, his teeth ground together; his eyes +burned under red lids, and his hair lay tossed and damp on his brow. "I +keep out of no man's way," he repeated, hoarsely. + +"I heard you, Mr. Tibbs, but I've got too much to do, while you loaf +and gas and drink over Lum Landis's bar--I've got other business than +keeping out of Hartley Bowlder's way. I'm looking for John Harkless. He +was the best man we had in this ornery hole, and he was too good for us, +and so we've maybe let him get killed, and maybe I'm to blame. But I'm +going to find him, and if he's hurt--damn _me_! I'm going to have a hand +on the rope that lifts the men that did it, if I have to go to Rouen to +put it there! After that I'll answer for my fault, not before!" + +He threw himself on his horse and was gone. Soon the room was emptied, +as the patrons of the bar returned to the search, and only Mr. Wilkerson +and the landlord remained, the bar being the professional office, so to +speak, of both. + +Wilkerson had a chair in a corner, where he sat chanting a funeral march +in a sepulchral murmur, allowing a parenthetical _hic_ to punctuate the +dirge in place of the drum. Whenever a batch of newcomers entered, +he rose to drink with them; and, at such times, after pouring off his +liquor with a rich melancholy, shedding tears after every swallow, he +would make an exploring tour of the room on his way back to his corner, +stopping to look under each chair inquiringly and ejaculate: "Why, where +kin he be!" Then, shaking his head, he would observe sadly: "Fine +young man, he was, too; fine young man. Pore fellow! I reckon we hain't +a-goin' to git him." + +At eleven o'clock. Judge Briscoe dropped wearily from his horse at his +own gate, and said to a wan girl who came running down the walk to meet +him: "There is nothing, yet. I sent the telegram to your mother--to Mrs. +Sherwood." + +Helen turned away without answering. Her face was very white and looked +pinched about the mouth. She went back to where old Fisbee sat on the +porch, his white head held between his two hands; he was rocking himself +to and fro. She touched him gently, but he did not look up. She spoke to +him. + +"There isn't anything--yet. He sent the telegram to mamma. I shall stay +with you, now, no matter what you say." She sat beside him and put her +head down on his shoulder, and though for a moment he appeared not to +notice it, when Minnie came out on the porch, hearing her father at the +door, the old scholar had put his arm about the girl and was stroking +her fair hair softly. + +Briscoe glanced at them, and raised a warning finger to his daughter, +and they went tiptoeing into the house, where the judge dropped heavily +upon a sofa with an asthmatic sigh; he was worn and tired. Minnie stood +before him with a look of pale inquiry, and he shook his head. + +"No use to tell _them_; but I can't see any hope," he answered her, +biting nervously at the end of a cigar. "I expect you better bring me +some coffee in here; I couldn't take another step to save me. I'm too +old to tear around the country horseback before breakfast, like I have +to-day." + +"Did you send her telegram?" Minnie asked, as he drank the coffee she +brought him. She had interpreted "coffee" liberally, and, with the +assistance of Mildy Upton (whose subdued nose was frankly red and who +shed tears on the raspberries), had prepared an appetizing table at his +elbow. + +"Yes," responded the judge, "and I'm glad she sent it. I talked +the other way yesterday, what little I said--it isn't any of our +business--but I don't think any too much of those people, somehow. She +thinks she belongs with Fisbee, and I guess she's right. That young +fellow must have got along with her pretty well, and I'm afraid when +she gives up she'll be pretty bad over it; but I guess we all will. It's +terribly sudden, somehow, though it's only what everybody half expected +would come; only we thought it would come from over yonder." He nodded +toward the west. "But she's got to stay here with us. Boarding at Sol +Tibbs's with that old man won't do; and she's no girl to live in two +rooms. You fix it up with her--you make her stay." + +"She must," answered his daughter as she knelt beside him and patted his +coat and handed him several things to eat at the same time. "Mr. Fisbee +will help me persuade her, now that she's bound to stay in spite of him +and the Sherwoods, too. I think she is perfectly grand to do it. I've +always thought she was grand--ever since she took me under her wing +at school when I was terribly 'country' and frightened; but she was so +sweet and kind she made me forget. She was the pet of the school, too, +always doing things for the other girls, for everybody; looking out for +people simply heads and heads bigger than herself, and so +recklessly generous and so funny about it; and always thoughtful +and--and--pleasant----" + +Minnie was speaking sadly, mechanically; but suddenly she broke off with +a quick sob, sprang up and went to the window; then, turning, cried out: + +"I don't believe it! He knew how to take care of himself too well. He'd +have got away from them." + +Her father shook his head. "Then why hasn't he turned up? He'd have gone +home after the storm if something bad wasn't the matter." + +"But nothing--nothing _that_ bad could have happened. They haven't +found--any--anything." + +"But why hasn't he come back, child?" + +"Well, he's lying hurt somewhere, that's all." + +"Then why haven't they found him?" + +"I don't care!" she cried, and choked with the words and tossed her +dishevelled hair from her temples; "it isn't true. Helen won't believe +it--why should I? It's only a few hours since he was right here in our +yard, talking to us all. I won't believe it till they've searched every +stick and stone of Six-Cross-Roads and found him." + +"It wasn't the Cross-Roads," said the old gentleman, pushing the table +away and relaxing his limbs on the sofa. "They probably didn't have +anything to do with it. We thought they had at first, but everybody's +about come to believe it was those two devils that he had arrested +yesterday." + +"Not the Cross-Roads!" echoed Minnie, and she began to tremble +violently. "Haven't they been out there yet?" + +"What use? They are out of it, and they can thank God they are!" + +"They are not!" she cried excitedly. "They did it. It was the +White-Caps. We saw them, Helen and I." + +The judge got upon his feet with an oath. He had not sworn for years +until that morning. "What's this?" he said sharply. + +"I ought to have told you before, but we were so frightened, and--and +you went off in such a rush after Mr. Wiley was here. I never dreamed +everybody wouldn't know it was the Cross-Roads; that they would _think_ +of any one else. And I looked for the scarecrow as soon as it was light +and it was 'way off from where we saw them, and wasn't blown down at +all, and Helen saw them in the field besides--saw all of them----" + +He interrupted her. "What do you mean? Try to tell me about it quietly, +child." He laid his hand on her shoulder. + +She told him breathlessly (while he grew more and more visibly perturbed +and uneasy, biting his cigar to pieces and groaning at intervals) what +she and Helen had seen in the storm. When she finished he took a few +quick turns about the room with his hands thrust deep in his coat +pockets, and then, charging her to repeat the story to no one, left the +house, and, forgetting his fatigue, rapidly crossed the fields to the +point where the bizarre figures of the night had shown themselves to the +two girls at the window. + +The soft ground had been trampled by many feet. The boot-prints pointed +to the northeast. He traced them backward to the southwest through the +field, and saw where they had come from near the road, going northeast. +Then, returning, he climbed the fence and followed them northward +through the next field. From there, the next, beyond the road that was +a continuation of Main Street, stretched to the railroad embankment. +The track, raggedly defined in trampled loam and muddy furrow, bent in +a direction which indicated that its terminus might be the switch +where the empty cars had stood last night, waiting for the one-o'clock +freight. Though the fields had been trampled down in many places by +the searching parties, he felt sure of the direction taken by the +Cross-Roads men, and he perceived that the searchers had mistaken the +tracks he followed for those of earlier parties in the hunt. On the +embankment he saw a number of men, walking west and examining the ground +on each side, and a long line of people following them out from town. He +stopped. He held the fate of Six-Cross-Roads in his hand and he knew it. + +He knew that if he spoke, his evidence would damn the Cross-Roads, +and that it meant that more than the White-Caps would be hurt, for the +Cross-Roads would fight. If he had believed that the dissemination of +his knowledge could have helped Harkless, he would have called to the +men near him at once; but he had no hope that the young man was alive. +They would not have dragged him out to their shanties wounded, or as +a prisoner; such a proceeding would have courted detection, and, also, +they were not that kind; they had been "looking for him" a long time, +and their one idea was to kill him. + +And Harkless, for all his gentleness, was the sort of man, Briscoe +believed, who would have to be killed before he could be touched. Of one +thing the old gentleman was sure; the editor had not been tied up and +whipped while yet alive. In spite of his easy manners and geniality, +there was a dignity in him that would have made him kill and be killed +before the dirty fingers of a Cross-Roads "White-Cap" could have been +laid upon him in chastisement. A great many good Americans of Carlow who +knew him well always Mistered him as they would have Mistered only an +untitled Morton or Hendricks who might have lived amongst them. He +was the only man the old darky, Uncle Xenophon, had ever addressed as +"Marse" since he came to Plattville, thirty years ago. + +Briscoe considered it probable that a few people were wearing bandages, +in the closed shanties over to the west to-day. A thought of the number +they had brought against one man; a picture of the unequal struggle, of +the young fellow he had liked so well, unarmed and fighting hopelessly +in a trap, and a sense of the cruelty of it, made the hot anger surge +up in his breast, and he started on again. Then he stopped once more. +Though long retired from faithful service on the bench, he had been all +his life a serious exponent of the law, and what he went to tell meant +lawlessness that no one could hope to check. He knew the temper of the +people; their long suffering was at an end, and they would go over at +last and wipe out the Cross-Roads. It depended on him. If the mob could +be held off over to-day, if men's minds could cool over night, the +law could strike and the innocent and the hotheaded be spared from +suffering. He would wait; he would lay his information before the +sheriff; and Horner would go quietly with a strong posse, for he would +need a strong one. He began to retrace his steps. + +The men on the embankment were walking slowly, bending far over, their +eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly one of them stood erect and tossed +his arms in the air and shouted loudly. Other men ran to him, and +another far down the track repeated the shout and the gesture to another +far in his rear; this man took it up, and shouted and waved to a fourth +man, and so they passed the signal back to town. There came, almost +immediately three long, loud whistles from a mill near the station, and +the embankment grew black with people pouring out from town, while the +searchers came running from the fields and woods and underbrush on both +sides of the railway. + +Briscoe paused for the last time; then he began to walk slowly toward +the embankment. + +The track lay level and straight, not dimming in the middle distances, +the rails converging to points, both northwest and southeast, in +the clean-washed air, like examples of perspective in a child's +drawing-book. About seventy miles to the west and north lay Rouen; and, +in the same direction, nearly six miles from where the signal was +given, the track was crossed by a road leading directly south to +Six-Cross-Roads. + +The embankment had been newly ballasted with sand. What had been +discovered was a broad brown stain on the south slope near the top. +There were smaller stains above and below; none beyond it to left or +right; and there were deep boot-prints in the sand. Men were examining +the place excitedly, talking and gesticulating. It was Lige Willetts who +had found it. His horse was tethered to a fence near by, at the end of +a lane through a cornfield. Jared Wiley, the deputy, was talking to a +group near the stain, explaining. + +"You see them two must have knowed about the one-o'clock freight, and +that it was to stop here to take on the empty lumber cars. I don't know +how they knowed it, but they did. It was this way: when they dropped +from the window, they beat through the storm, straight for this +side-track. At the same time Mr. Harkless leaves Briscoes' goin' +west. It begins to rain. He cuts across to the railroad to have a sure +footing, and strikin' for the deepo for shelter--near place as any +except Briscoes' where he'd said good-night already and prob'ly don't +wish to go back, 'fear of givin' trouble or keepin' 'em up--anybody can +understand that. He comes along, and gets to where we are precisely at +the time _they_ do, them comin' from town, him strikin' for it. They run +right into each other. That's what happened. They re-_cog_-nized him and +raised up on him and let him have it. What they done it with, I don't +know; we took everything in that line off of 'em; prob'ly used railroad +iron; and what they done with him afterwards we don't know; but we will +by night. They'll sweat it out of 'em up at Rouen when they get 'em." + +"I reckon maybe some of us might help," remarked Mr. Watts, +reflectively. + +Jim Bardlock swore a violent oath. "That's the talk!" he shouted. "Ef I +ain't the first man of this crowd to set my foot in Roowun, an' first to +beat in that jail door, an' take 'em out an' hang 'em by the neck till +they're dead, dead, dead, I'm not Town Marshal of Plattville, County of +Carlow, State of Indiana, and the Lord have mercy on our souls!" + +Tom Martin looked at the brown stain and quickly turned away; then he +went back slowly to the village. On the way he passed Warren Smith. + +"Is it so?" asked the lawyer. + +Martin answered with a dry throat. He looked out dimly over the sunlit +fields, and swallowed once or twice. "Yes, it's so. There's a good deal +of it there. Little more than a boy he was." The old fellow passed his +seamy hand over his eyes without concealment. "Peter ain't very bright, +sometimes, it seems to me," he added, brokenly; "overlook Bodeffer and +Fisbee and me and all of us old husks, and--and--" he gulped suddenly, +then finished--"and act the fool and take a boy that's the best we had. +I wish the Almighty would take Peter off the gate; he ain't fit fer it." + +When the attorney reached the spot where the crowd was thickest, way +was made for him. The old colored man, Xenophon, approached at the +same time, leaning on a hickory stick and bent very far over, one hand +resting on his hip as if to ease a rusty joint. The negro's age was +an incentive to fable; from his appearance he might have known the +prophets, and he wore that hoary look of unearthly wisdom many decades +of superstitious experience sometimes give to members of his race. +His face, so tortured with wrinkles that it might have been made of +innumerable black threads woven together, was a living mask of the +mystery of his blood. Harkless had once said that Uncle Xenophon had +visited heaven before Swedenborg and hell before Dante. To-day, as he +slowly limped over the ties, his eyes were bright and dry under the +solemn lids, and, though his heavy nostrils were unusually distended in +the effort for regular breathing, the deeply puckered lips beneath them +were set firmly. + +He stopped and looked at the faces before him. When he spoke his voice +was gentle, and though the tremulousness of age harped on the vocal +strings, it was rigidly controlled. "Kin some kine gelmun," he asked, +"please t'be so good ez t' show de ole main whuh de W'ite-Caips is done +shoot Marse Hawkliss?" + +"Here was where it happened, Uncle Zen," answered Wiley, leaning him +forward. "Here is the stain." + +Xenophon bent over the spot on the sand, making little odd noises in his +throat. Then he painfully resumed his former position. "Dass his blood," +he said, in the same gentle, quavering tone. "Dass my bes' frien' whut +lay on de groun' whuh yo staind, gelmun." + +There was a pause, and no one spoke. + +"Dass whuh day laid 'im an' dass whuh he lie," the old negro continued. +"Dey shot 'im in de fiels. Dey ain' shot 'im hear-yondeh dey drugged +'im, but dis whuh he lie." He bent over again, then knelt, groaningly, +and placed his hand on the stain, one would have said, as a man might +place his hand over a heart to see if it still beat. He was motionless, +with the air of hearkening. + +"Marse, honey, is you gone?" He raised his voice as if calling, "Is you +gone, suh?--Marse?" + +He looked up at the circle about him, and, still kneeling, not taking +his hand from the sand, seeming to wait for a sign, to listen for a +voice, he said: "Whafo' you gelmun think de good Lawd summon Marse +Hawkliss? Kaze he de mos' fittes'? You know dat man he ketch me in de +cole night, wintuh 'to' lais', stealin' 'is wood. You know whut he done +t'de ole thief? Tek an' bull' up big fiah een ole Zen' shainty; say, +'He'p yo'se'f an' welcome. Reckon you hongry, too, ain' you, Xenophon?' +Tek an' feed me. Tek an' tek keer o' me ev' since. Ah pump de baith full +in de mawin'; mek 'is bed; pull de weeds out'n of de front walk--dass +all. He tek me in. When Ah aisk 'im ain' he fraid keep ole thief he say, +jesso: 'Dass all my fault, Xenophon; ought look you up long 'go; ought +know long 'go you be cole dese baid nights. Reckon Ahm de thievenest one +us two, Xenophon, keepin' all dis wood stock' up when you got none,' he +say, jesso. Tek me in; say he _lahk_ a thief. Pay me sala'y. Feed me. +Dass de main whut de Caips gone shot lais' night." He raised his head +sharply, and the mystery in his gloomy eyes intensified as they opened +wide and stared at the sky, unseeingly. + +"Ise bawn wid a cawl!" he exclaimed, loudly. His twisted frame was +braced to an extreme tension. "Ise bawn wid a cawl! De blood anssuh!" + +"It wasn't the Cross-Roads, Uncle Xenophon," said Warren Smith, laying +his hand on the old man's shoulder. + +Xenophon rose to his feet. He stretched a long, bony arm straight to the +west, where the Cross-Roads lay; stood rigid and silent, like a seer; +then spoke: + +"De men whut shot Marse Hawkliss lies yondeh, hidin' f'um de light o' +day. An' _him_"--he swerved his whole rigid body till the arm pointed +northwest--"he lies yondeh. You won't find him heah. Dey fought 'im een +de fiel's an' dey druggen 'im heah. Dis whim dey lay 'im down. Ise bawn +wid a cawl!" + +There were exclamations from the listeners, for Xenophon spoke as one +having authority. Suddenly he turned and pointed his outstretched hand +full at Judge Briscoe. + +"An' dass de main," he cried, "dass de main kin tell you Ah speak de +trufe." + +Before he was answered, Eph Watts looked at Briscoe keenly and then +turned to Lige Willetts and whispered: "Get on your horse, ride in, and +ring the court-house bell like the devil. Do as I say!" + +Tears stood in the judge's eyes. "It is so," he said, solemnly. "He +speaks the truth. I didn't mean to tell it to-day, but somehow--" He +paused. "The hounds!" he cried. "They deserve it! My daughter saw them +crossing the fields in the night--saw them climb the fence, hoods, +gowns, and all, a big crowd of them. She and the lady who is visiting +us saw them, saw them plainly. The lady saw them several times, clear as +day, by the flashes of lightning--the scoundrels were coming this way. +They must have been dragging him with them then. He couldn't have had a +show for his life amongst them. Do what you like--maybe they've got him +at the Cross-Roads. If there's a chance of it--dead or alive--bring him +back!" + +A voice rang out above the clamor that followed the judge's speech. + +"'Bring him back!' God could, maybe, but He won't. Who's travelling +my way? I go west!" Hartley Bowlder had ridden his sorrel up the +embankment, and the horse stood between the rails. There was an angry +roar from the crowd; the prosecutor pleaded and threatened unheeded; and +as for the deputy sheriff, he declared his intention of taking with him +all who wished to go as his posse. Eph Watts succeeded in making himself +heard above the tumult. + +"The Square!" he shouted. "Start from the Square. We want everybody, and +we'll need them. We want every one in Carlow to be implicated in this +posse." + +"They will be!" shouted a farmer. "Don't you worry about that." + +"We want to get into some sort of shape," cried Eph. + +"Shape, hell!" said Hartley Bowlder. + +There was a hiss and clang and rattle behind him, and a steam whistle +shrieked. The crowd divided, and Hartley's sorrel jumped just in time as +the westbound accommodation rushed through on its way to Rouen. From the +rear platform leaned the sheriff, Horner, waving his hands frantically +as he flew by, but no one understood--or cared--what he said, or, in the +general excitement, even wondered why he was leaving the scene of +his duty at such a time. When the train had dwindled to a dot and +disappeared, and the noise of its rush grew faint, the court-house bell +was heard ringing, and the mob was piling pell-mell into the village to +form on the Square. The judge stood alone on the embankment. + +"That settles it," he said aloud, gloomily, watching the last figures. +He took off his hat and pushed back the thick, white hair from his +forehead. "Nothing to do but wait. Might as well go home for that. Blast +it!" he exclaimed, impatiently. "I don't want to go there. It's too hard +on the little girl. If she hadn't come till next week she'd never have +known John Harkless." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. JOHN BROWN'S BODY + +All morning horsemen had been galloping through Six-Cross-Roads, +sometimes singly, oftener in company. At one-o'clock the last posse +passed through on its return to the county-seat, and after that there +was a long, complete silence, while the miry corners were undisturbed by +a single hoof-beat. No unkempt colt nickered from his musty stall; the +sparse young corn that was used to rasp and chuckle greenly stood rigid +in the fields. Up the Plattville pike despairingly cackled one old +hen, with her wabbling sailor run, smit with a superstitious horror of +nothing, in the stillness; she hid herself in the shadow underneath a +rickety barn, and her shrieking ceased. + +Only on the Wimby farm were there signs of life. The old lady who had +sent Harkless roses sat by the window all morning and wiped her eyes, +watching the horsemen ride by; sometimes they would hail her and tell +her there was nothing yet. About two-o'clock, her husband rattled up +in a buckboard, and got out the late, and more authentic, Mr. Wimby's +shot-gun, which he carefully cleaned and oiled, in spite of its +hammerless and quite useless condition, sitting, meanwhile, by the +window opposite his wife, and often looking up from his work to shake +his weak fist at his neighbors' domiciles and creak decrepit curses and +denunciations. + +But the Cross-Roads was ready. It knew what was coming now. Frightened, +desperate, sullen, it was ready. + +The afternoon wore on, and lengthening shadows fell upon a peaceful--one +would have said, a sleeping--country. The sun-dried pike, already dusty, +stretched its serene length between green borders flecked with purple +and yellow and white weedflowers; and the tree shadows were not shade, +but warm blue and lavender glows in the general pervasion of still, +bright light, the sky curving its deep, unburnished, penetrable blue +over all, with no single drift of fleece upon it to be reflected in +the creek that wound along past willow and sycamore. A woodpecker's +telegraphy broke the quiet like a volley of pistol shots. + +But far eastward on the pike there slowly developed a soft, white haze. +It grew denser and larger. Gradually it rolled nearer. Dimly behind it +could be discerned a darker, moving nucleus that extended far back upon +the road. A heavy tremor began to stir the air--faint manifold sounds, a +waxing, increasing, multitudinous rumor. + +The pike ascended a long, slight slope leading west up to the +Cross-Roads. From a thicket of iron-weed at the foot of this slope was +thrust the hard, lean visage of an undersized girl of fourteen. Her +fierce eyes examined the approaching cloud of dust intently. A redness +rose under the burnt yellow skin and colored the wizened cheeks. + +They were coming. + +She stepped quickly out of the tangle, and darted up the road, running +with the speed of a fleet little terrier, not opening her lips, not +calling out, but holding her two thin hands high above her head. +That was all. But Birnam wood was come to Dunsinane at last, and the +messenger sped. Out of the weeds in the corners of the snake fence, +in the upper part of the rise, silently lifted the heads of men whose +sallowness became a sickish white as the child flew by. + +The mob was carefully organized. They had taken their time and had +prepared everything deliberately, knowing that nothing could stop them. +No one had any thought of concealment; it was all as open as the light +of day, all done in the broad sunshine. Nothing had been determined as +to what was to be done at the Cross-Roads more definite than that the +place was to be wiped out. That was comprehensive enough; the details +were quite certain to occur. They were all on foot, marching in fairly +regular ranks. In front walked Mr. Watts, the man Harkless had abhorred +in a public spirit and befriended in private--to-day he was a hero and +a leader, marching to avenge his professional oppressor and personal +brother. Cool, unruffled, and, to outward vision, unarmed, marching the +miles in his brown frock coat and generous linen, his carefully creased +trousers neatly turned up out of the dust, he led the way. On one side +of him were the two Bowlders, on the other was Lige Willetts, Mr. +Watts preserving peace between the two young men with perfect tact and +sang-froid. + +They kept good order and a similitude of quiet for so many, except +far to the rear, where old Wilkerson was bringing up the tail of the +procession, dragging a wretched yellow dog by a slip-noose fastened +around the poor cur's protesting neck, the knot carefully arranged under +his right ear. In spite of every command and protest, Wilkerson had +marched the whole way uproariously singing, "John Brown's Body." + +The sun was in the west when they came in sight of the Cross-Roads, and +the cabins on the low slope stood out angularly against the radiance +beyond. As they beheld the hated settlement, the heretofore orderly +ranks showed a disposition to depart from the steady advance and rush +the shanties. Willetts, the Bowlders, Parker, Ross, Schofield, and fifty +others did, in fact, break away and set a sharp pace up the slope. + +Watts tried to call them back. "What's the use your gettin' killed?" he +shouted. + +"Why not?" answered Lige, who, like the others, was increasing his speed +when old "Wimby" rose up suddenly from the roadside ahead of them, and +motioned them frantically to go back. "They're laid out along the fence, +waitin' fer ye," he warned them. "Git out the road. Come by the fields. +Per the Lord's sake, spread!" Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he +dropped down into the weeds again. Lige and those with him paused, and +the whole body came to a halt while the leaders consulted. There was a +sound of metallic clicking and a thin rattle of steel. From far to the +rear came the voice of old Wilkerson: + + "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground--" + +A few near him, as they stood waiting, began to take up the burden of +the song, singing in slow time like a dirge; then those further away +took it up; it spread, reached the leaders; they, too, began to sing, +taking off their hats as they joined in; and soon the whole concourse, +solemn, earnest, and uncovered, was singing--a thunderous requiem for +John Harkless. + +The sun was swinging lower and the edges of the world were embroidered +with gold while that deep volume of sound shook the air, the song of a +stern, savage, just cause--sung, perhaps, as some of the ancestors of +these men sang with Hampden before the bristling walls of a hostile +city. It had iron and steel in it. The men lying on their guns in the +ambuscade along the fence heard the dirge rise and grow to its mighty +fulness, and they shivered. One of them, posted nearest the advance, +had his rifle carefully levelled at Lige Willetts, a fair target in the +road. When he heard the singing, he turned to the man next behind +him and laughed harshly: "I reckon we'll see a big jamboree in hell +to-night, huh?" + +The huge murmur of the chorus expanded, and gathered in rhythmic +strength, and swelled to power, and rolled and thundered across the +plain. + + "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + His soul goes marching on! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + His soul goes marching on!" + +A gun spat from the higher ground, and Willetts dropped where he stood, +but was up again in a second, with a red line across his forehead where +the ball had grazed his temple. Then the mob spread out like a fan, +hundreds of men climbing the fence and beginning the advance through +the fields, dosing on the ambuscade from both sides. Mr. Watts, wading +through the high grass in the field north of the road, perceived the +barrel of a gun shining from a bush some distance in front of him, and, +although in the same second no weapon was seen in his hand, discharged a +revolver at the bush behind the gun. Instantly ten or twelve men leaped +from their hiding-places along the fences of both fields, and, firing +hurriedly and harmlessly into the scattered ranks of the oncoming mob, +broke for the shelter of the houses, where their fellows were posted. +Taken on the flanks and from the rear, there was but one thing for +them to do to keep from being hemmed in and shot or captured. (They +excessively preferred being shot.) With a wild, high, joyous yell, +sounding like the bay of young hounds breaking into view of their +quarry, the Plattville men followed. + +The most eastward of the debilitated edifices of Six-Cross-Roads was the +saloon, which bore the painted legends: on the west wall, "Last Chance"; +on the east wall, "First Chance." Next to this, and separated by two +or three acres of weedy vacancy from the corners where the population +centred thickest, stood-if one may so predicate of a building which +leaned in seven directions-the house of Mr. Robert Skillett, the +proprietor of the saloon. Both buildings were shut up as tight as their +state of repair permitted. As they were furthest to the east, they +formed the nearest shelter, and to them the Cross-Roaders bent their +flight, though they stopped not here, but disappeared behind Skillett's +shanty, putting it between them and their pursuers, whose guns were +beginning to speak. The fugitives had a good start, and, being the +picked runners of the Cross-Roads, they crossed the open, weedy acres in +safety and made for their homes. Every house had become a fort, and the +defenders would have to be fought and torn out one by one. As the guns +sounded, a woman in a shanty near the forge began to scream, and kept on +screaming. + +On came the farmers and the men of Plattville. They took the saloon at a +run; battered down the crazy doors with a fence-rail, and swarmed inside +like busy insects, making the place hum like a hive, but with the hotter +industries of destruction. It was empty of life as a tomb, but they beat +and tore and battered and broke and hammered and shattered like madmen; +they reduced the tawdry interior to a mere chaos, and came pouring forth +laden with trophies of ruin. And then there was a charry smell in the +air, and a slender feather of smoke floated up from a second-story +window. + +At the same time Watts led an assault on the adjoining house--an assault +which came to a sudden pause, for, from cracks in the front wall, a +squirrel-rifle and a shot-gun snapped and banged, and the crowd fell +back in disorder. Homer Tibbs had a hat blown away, full of buck-shot +holes, while Mr. Watts solicitously examined a small aperture in the +skirts of his brown coat. The house commanded the road, and the rush of +the mob into the village was checked, but only for the instant. + +A rickety woodshed, which formed a portion of the Skillett mansion, +closely joined the "Last Chance" side of the family place of business. +Scarcely had the guns of the defenders sounded, when, with a loud shout, +Lige Willetts leaped from an upper window on that side of the burning +saloon and landed on the woodshed, and, immediately climbing the roof +of the house itself, applied a fiery brand to the time-worn clapboards. +Ross Schofield dropped on the shed, close behind him, his arm lovingly +enfolding a gallon jug of whiskey, which he emptied (not without evident +regret) upon the clapboards as Lige fired them. Flames burst forth +almost instantly, and the smoke, uniting with that now rolling out +of every window of the saloon, went up to heaven in a cumbrous, gray +column. + +As the flames began to spread, there was a rapid fusillade from the rear +of the house, and a hundred men and more, who had kept on through the +fields to the north, assailed it from behind. Their shots passed clear +through the flimsy partitions, and there was a horrid screeching, like a +beast's howls, from within. The front door was thrown open, and a lean, +fierce-eyed girl, with a case-knife in her hand, ran out in the face of +the mob. At sound of the shots in the rear they had begun to advance on +the house a second time, and Hartley Bowlder was the nearest man to the +girl. With awful words, and shrieking inconceivably, she made straight +at Hartley, and attacked him with the knife. She struck at him again +and again, and, in her anguish of hate and fear, was so extraordinary +a spectacle that she gained for her companions the four or five seconds +they needed to escape from the house. As she hurled herself alone at +the oncoming torrent, they sped from the door unnoticed, sprang over the +fence, and reached the open lots to the west before they were seen by +Willetts from the roof. + +"Don't let 'em fool you!" he shouted. "Look to I your left! There they +go! Don't let 'em get away." + +The Cross-Readers were running across the field. They were Bob Skillett +and his younger brother, and Mr. Skillett was badly damaged: he seemed +to be holding his jaw on his face with both hands. The girl turned, and +sped after them. She was over the fence almost as soon as they were, +and the three ran in single file, the girl last. She was either +magnificently sacrificial and fearless, or she cunningly calculated that +the regulators would take no chances of killing a woman-child, for she +kept between their guns and her two companions, trying to cover and +shield the latter with her frail body. + +"Shoot, Lige," called Watts. "If we fire from here we'll hit the girl. +Shoot!" + +Willetts and Ross Schofield were still standing on the roof, at the +edge, out of the smoke, and both fired at the same time. The fugitives +did not turn; they kept on running, and they had nearly reached the +other side of the field, when suddenly, without any premonitory gesture, +the elder Skillett dropped flat on his face. The Cross-Roaders stood by +each other that day, for four or five men ran out of the nearest shanty +into the open, lifted the prostrate figure from the ground, and began +to carry it back with them. But Mr. Skillett was alive; his curses were +heard above all other sounds. Lige and Schofield fired again, and one of +the rescuers staggered. Nevertheless, as the two men slid down from the +roof, the burdened Cross-Readers were seen to break into a run; and at +that, with another yell, fiercer, wilder, more joyous than the first, +the Plattville men followed. + +The yell rang loudly in the ears of old Wilkerson, who had remained back +in the road, and at the same instant he heard another shout behind him. +Mr. Wilkerson had not shared in the attack, but, greatly preoccupied +with his own histrionic affairs, was proceeding up the pike +alone--except for the unhappy yellow mongrel, still dragged along by the +slip-noose--and alternating, as was his natural wont, from one fence to +the other; crouching behind every bush to fire an imaginary rifle at his +dog, and then springing out, with triumphant bellowings, to fall prone +upon the terrified animal. It was after one of these victories that a +shout of warning was raised behind him, and Mr. Wilkerson, by grace of +the god Bacchus, rolling out of the way in time to save his life, saw +a horse dash by him--a big, black horse whose polished flanks were +dripping with lather. Warren Smith was the rider. He was waving a slip +of yellow paper high in the air. + +He rode up the slope, and drew rein beyond the burning buildings, just +ahead of those foremost in the pursuit. He threw his horse across the +road to oppose their progress, rose in his stirrups, and waved the paper +over his head. "Stop!" he roared, "Give me one minute. Stop!" He had a +grand voice; and he was known in many parts of the State for the great +bass roar with which he startled his juries. To be heard at a distance +most men lift the pitch of their voices; Smith lowered his an octave +or two, and the result was like an earthquake playing an organ in a +catacomb. + +"Stop!" he thundered. "Stop!" + +In answer, one of the flying Cross-Roaders turned and sent a bullet +whistling close to him. The lawyer paused long enough to bow deeply in +satirical response; then, flourishing the paper, he roared again: "Stop! +A mistake! I have news! Stop, I say! Homer has got them!" + +To make himself heard over that tempestuous advance was a feat; for him, +moreover, whose counsels had so lately been derided, to interest the +pursuers at such a moment enough to make them listen--to find the +word--was a greater; and by the word, and by gestures at once vehemently +imperious and imploring, to stop them was still greater; but he did it. +He had come at just the moment before the moment that would have been +too late. They all heard him. They all knew, too, he was not trying to +save the Cross-Roads as a matter of duty, because he had given that up +before the mob left Plattville. Indeed, it was a question if, at the +last, he had not tacitly approved; and no one feared indictments for +the day's work. It would do no harm to listen to what he had to say. The +work could wait; it would "keep" for five minutes. They began to gather +around him, excited, flushed, perspiring, and smelling of smoke. Hartley +Bowlder, won by Lige's desperation and intrepidity, was helping the +latter tie up his head; no one else was hurt. + +"What is it?" they clamored impatiently. "Speak quick!" There was +another harmless shot from a fugitive, and then the Cross-Roaders, +divining that the diversion was in their favor, secured themselves in +their decrepit fastnesses and held their fire. Meanwhile, the flames +crackled cheerfully in Plattville ears. No matter what the prosecutor +had to say, at least the Skillett saloon and homestead were gone, and +Bob Skillett and one other would be sick enough to be good for a while. + +"Listen," cried Warren Smith, and, rising in his stirrups again, read +the missive in his hand, a Western Union telegraph form. "Warren Smith, +Plattville," was the direction. "Found both shell-men. Police familiar +with both, and both wanted here. One arrested at noon in a second-hand +clothes store, wearing Harkless's hat, also trying dispose torn +full-dress coat known to have been worn by Harkless last night. Stains +on lining believed blood. Second man found later at freight-yards in +empty lumber car left Plattville 1 P.M., badly hurt, shot, and +bruised. Supposed Harkless made hard fight. Hurt man taken to hospital +unconscious. Will die. Hope able question him first and discover +whereabouts body. Other man refuses talk so far. Check any movement +Cross-Roads. This clears Skillett, etc. Come over on 9.15." + +The telegram was signed by Homer and by Barrett, the superintendent of +police at Rouen. + +"It's all a mistake, boys," the lawyer said, as he handed the paper +to Watts and Parker for inspection. "The ladies at the judge's +were mistaken, that's all, and this proves it. It's easy enough to +understand: they were frightened by the storm, and, watching a fence +a quarter-mile away by flashes of lightning, any one would have been +confused, and imagined all the horrors on earth. I don't deny but what I +believed it for a while, and I don't deny but the Cross-Roads is pretty +tough, but you've done a good deal here already, to-day, and we're +saved in time from a mistake that would have turned out mighty bad. This +settles it. Homer got a wire from Rouen to come over there, soon as +they got track of the first man; that was when we saw him on the Rouen +accommodation." + +A slightly cracked voice, yet a huskily tuneful one, was lifted +quaveringly on the air from the roadside, where an old man and a yellow +dog sat in the dust together, the latter reprieved at the last moment, +his surprised head rakishly garnished with a hasty wreath of dog-fennel +daisies. + + "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + While we go marching on!" + +Three-quarters of an hour later, the inhabitants of the Cross-Roads, +saved, they knew not how; guilty; knowing nothing of the fantastic +pendulum of opinion, which, swung by the events of the day, had marked +the fatal moment of guilt, now on others, now on them, who deserved +it--these natives and refugees, conscious of atrocity, dumfounded by a +miracle, thinking the world gone mad, hovered together in a dark, ragged +mass at the crossing corners, while the skeleton of the rotting buggy +in the slough rose behind them against the face of the west. They peered +with stupified eyes through the smoky twilight. + +From afar, faintly through the gloaming, came mournfully to their ears +the many-voiced refrain--fainter, fainter: + + "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground. + John Brown's body lies--mould-- + ..... we go march.... on." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. JERRY THE TELLER At midnight a small brougham stopped at +the gates of the city hospital in Rouen. A short distance ahead, the +lamps of a cab, drawn up at the curbing, made two dull orange sparks +under the electric light swinging over the street. A cigarette described +a brief parabola as it was tossed from the brougham, and a short young +man jumped out and entered the gates, then paused and spoke to the +driver of the cab. + +"Did you bring Mr. Barrett here?" + +"Yes, sir," answered the driver; "him and two other gentlemen." + +Lighting another cigarette, from which he drew but two inspirations +before he threw it away, the young man proceeded quickly up the walk. +As he ascended the short flight of steps which led to the main doors, +he panted a little, in a way which suggested that (although his +white waistcoat outlined an ellipse still respectable) a crescendo of +portliness was playing diminuendo with his youth. And, though his +walk was brisk, it was not lively. The expression of his very red face +indicated that his briskness was spurred by anxiety, and a fattish groan +he emitted on the top step added the impression that his comfortable +body protested against the mental spur. In the hall he removed his +narrow-brimmed straw hat and presented a rotund and amiable head, +from the top of which his auburn hair seemed to retire with a sense of +defeat; it fell back, however, not in confusion, but in perfect order, +and the sparse pink mist left upon his crown gave, by a supreme effort, +an effect of arrangement, so that an imaginative observer would have +declared that there was a part down the middle. The gentleman's plump +face bore a grave and troubled expression, and gravity and trouble were +patent in all the lines of his figure and in every gesture; in the way +he turned his head; in the uneasy shifting of his hat from one hand to +the other and in his fanning himself with it in a nervous fashion; +and in his small, blue eyes, which did not twinkle behind his rimless +glasses and looked unused to not twinkling. His gravity clothed him +like an ill-fitting coat; or, possibly, he might have reminded the +imaginative observer, just now conjured up, of a music-box set to +turning its cylinder backwards. + +He spoke to an attendant, and was directed to an office, which he +entered without delay. There were five men in the room, three of them +engaged in conversation near the door; another, a young surgeon, was +writing at a desk; the fifth drowsily nodding on a sofa. The newcomer +bowed as he entered. + +"Mr. Barrett?" he said inquiringly. + +One of the men near the door turned about. "Yes, sir," he answered, with +a stem disfavor of the applicant; a disfavor possibly a perquisite of +his office. "What's wanted?" + +"I think I have met you," returned the other. "My name is Meredith." + +Mr. Barrett probably did not locate the meeting, but the name proved +an open sesame to his geniality, for he melted at once, and saying: "Of +course, of course, Mr. Meredith; did you want a talk with me?" clasped +the young man's hand confidentially in his, and, with an appearance +of assuring him that whatever the atrocity which had occurred in the +Meredith household it should be discreetly handled and hushed up, +indicated a disposition to conduct him toward a more appropriate +apartment for the rehearsal of scandal. The young man accepted the +hand-clasp with some resignation, but rejected the suggestion of +privacy. + +"A telegram from Plattville reached me half an hour ago," he said. "I +should have had it sooner, but I have been in the country all day." + +The two men who had been talking with the superintendent turned quickly, +and stared at the speaker. He went on: "Mr. Harkless was an old--and--" +He broke off, with a sudden, sharp choking, and for a moment was unable +to control an emotion that seemed, for some reason, as surprising and +unbefitting, in a person of his rubicund presence, as was his gravity. +An astonished tear glittered in the corner of his eye. The grief of +the gayer sorts of stout people appears, sometimes, to dumfound even +themselves. The young man took off his glasses and wiped them slowly. +"--An old and very dear friend of mine." He replaced the glasses +insecurely upon his nose. "I telephoned to your headquarters, and they +said you had come here." + +"Yes, sir; yes, sir," the superintendent of police responded, +cheerfully. "These two gentlemen are from Plattville; Mr. Smith just +got in. They mighty near had big trouble down there to-day, but I guess +we'll settle things for 'em up here. Let me make you acquainted with my +friend, Mr. Smith, and my friend, Mr. Homer. Gentlemen, my friend, Mr. +Meredith, one of our well-known citizens." + +"You hear it from the police, gentlemen," added Mr. Meredith, perking up +a little. "I know Dr. Gay." He nodded to the surgeon. + +"I suppose you have heard some of the circumstances--those that we've +given out," said Barrett. + +"I read the account in the evening paper. I had heard of Harkless, of +Carlow, before; but it never occurred to me that it was my friend--I had +heard he was abroad--until I got this telegram from a relative of mine +who happened to be down there." + +"Well," said the superintendent, "your friend made a mighty good fight +before he gave up. The Teller, that's the man we've got out here, he's +so hacked up and shot and battered his mother wouldn't know him, if she +wanted to; at least, that's what Gay, here, says. We haven't seen him, +because the doctors have been at him ever since he was found, and they +expect to do some more tonight, when we've had our interview with +him, if he lives long enough. One of my sergeants found him in, the +freight-yards about four-o'clock and sent him here in the ambulance; +knew it was Teller, because he was stowed away in one of the empty cars +that came from Plattville last night, and Slattery--that's his running +mate, the one we caught with the coat and hat--gave in that they beat +their way on that freight. I guess Slattery let this one do most of the +fighting; he ain't scratched; but Mr. Harkless certainly made it hot for +the Teller." + +"My relative believes that Mr. Harkless is still alive," said Meredith. + +Mr. Barrett permitted himself an indulgent smile. He had the air of +having long ago discovered everything which anybody might wish to know, +and of knowing a great deal which he held in reserve because it was +necessary to suppress many facts for a purpose far beyond his auditor's +comprehension, though a very simple matter to himself. + +"Well, hardly, I expect," he replied, easily. "No; he's hardly alive." + +"Oh, don't say that," said Meredith. + +"I'm afraid Mr. Barrett has to say it," broke in Warren Smith. "We're up +here to see this fellow before he dies, to try and get him to tell what +disposal they made of the----" + +"Ah!" Meredith shivered. "I believe I'd rather he said the other than to +hear you say that." + +Mr. Horner felt the need of defending a fellow-townsman, and came to the +rescue, flushing painfully. "It's mighty bad, I know," said the sheriff +of Carlow, the shadows of his honest, rough face falling in a solemn +pattern; "I reckon we hate to say it as much as you hate to hear it; +and Warren really didn't get the word out. It's stuck in our throats all +day; and I don't recollect as I heard a single man say it before I +left our city this morning. Our folks thought a great deal of him, Mr. +Meredith; I don't believe there's any thinks more. But it's come to that +now; you can't hardly see no chance left. We be'n sweating this other +man, Slattery, but we can't break him down. Jest tells us to go to"--the +sheriff paused, evidently deterred by the thought that swear-words were +unbefitting a hospital--"to the other place, and shets his jaw up tight. +The one up here is called the Teller, as Mr. Barrett says; his name's +Jerry the Teller. Well, we told Slattery that Jerry had died and left a +confession; tried to make him think there wasn't no hope fer him, and he +might as well up and tell his share; might git off easier; warned him to +look out for a mob if he didn't, maybe, and so on, but it never bothered +him at all. He's nervy, all right. Told us to go--that is, he said it +again--and swore the Teller was on his way to Chicago, swore he seen him +git on the train. Wouldn't say another word tell he got a lawyer. So, +'soon as it was any use, we come up here--they reckon he'll come to +before he dies. We'll be glad to have you go in with us," Horner said +kindly. "I reckon it's all the same to Mr. Barrett." + +"He will die, will he, Gay?" Meredith asked, turning to the surgeon. + +"Oh, not necessarily," the young man replied, yawning slightly behind +his hand, and too long accustomed to straightforward questions to be +shocked at an evident wish for a direct reply. "His chances are better, +because they'll hang him if he gets well. They took the ball and a good +deal of shot out of his side, and there's a lot more for afterwhile, if +he lasts. He's been off the table an hour, and he's still going." + +"That's in his favor, isn't it?" said Meredith. "And extraordinary, +too?" If young Dr. Gay perceived a slur in these interrogations he +betrayed no exterior appreciation of it. + +"Shot!" exclaimed Homer. "Shot! I knowed there'd be'n a pistol used, +though where they got it beats me--we stripped 'em--and it wasn't Mr. +Harkless's; he never carried one. But a shot-gun!" + +An attendant entered and spoke to the surgeon, and Gay rose wearily, +touched the drowsy young man on the shoulder, and led the way to the +door. "You can come now," he said to the others; "though I doubt its +being any good to you. He's delirious." + +They went down a long hall and up a narrow corridor, then stepped softly +into a small, quiet ward. + +There was a pungent smell of chemicals in the room; the light was low, +and the dimness was imbued with a thick, confused murmur, incoherent +whisperings that came from a cot in the corner. It was the only cot in +use in the ward, and Meredith was conscious of a terror that made him +dread, to look at it, to go near it. Beside it a nurse sat silent, and +upon it feebly tossed the racked body of him whom Barrett had called +Jerry the Teller. + +The head was a shapeless bundle, so swathed it was with bandages +and cloths, and what part of the face was visible was discolored and +pigmented with drugs. Stretched under the white sheet the man looked +immensely tall--as Horner saw with vague misgiving--and he lay in an +odd, inhuman fashion, as though he had been all broken to pieces. +His attempts to move were constantly soothed by the nurse, and he +as constantly renewed such attempts; and one hand, though torn and +bandaged, was not to be restrained from a wandering, restless movement +which Meredith felt to be pathetic. He had entered the room with a flare +of hate for the thug whom he had come to see die, and who had struck +down the old friend whose nearness he had never known until it was too +late. But at first sight of the broken figure he felt all animosity fall +away from him; only awe remained, and a growing, traitorous pity as he +watched the long, white fingers of the Teller "pick at the coverlet." +The man was muttering rapid fragments of words, and syllables. + +"Somehow I feel a sense of wrong," Meredith whispered to Gay. "I feel as +if I had done the fellow to death myself, as if it were all out of gear. +I know, now, how Henry felt over the great Guisard. My God, how tall he +looks! That doesn't seem to me like a thug's hand." + +The surgeon nodded. "Of course, if there's a mistake to be made, you can +count on Barrett and his sergeants to make it. I doubt if this is their +man. When they found him what clothes he wore were torn and stained; but +they had been good once, especially the linen." + +Barrett bent over the recumbent figure. "See here. Jerry," he said, "I +want to talk to you a little. Rouse up, will you? I want to talk to you +as a friend." + +The incoherent muttering continued. + +"See here, Jerry!" repeated Barrett, more sharply. "Jerry! rouse up, +will you? We don't want any fooling; understand that, Jerry!" He dropped +his hand on the man's shoulder and shook him slightly. The Teller +uttered a short, gasping cry. + +"Let me," said Gay, and swiftly interposed. Bending over the cot, he +said in a pleasant, soft voice: "It's all right, old man; it's all +right. Slattery wants to know what you did with that man down at +Plattville, when you got through with him. He can't remember, and he +thinks there was money left on him. Slattery's head was hurt--he can't +remember. He'll go shares with you, when he gets it. Slattery's going to +stand by you, if he can get the money." + +The Teller only tried to move his free hand to the shoulder Barrett had +shaken. + +"Slattery wants to know," repeated the surgeon, gently moving the hand +back upon the sheet. "He'll divvy up, when he gets it. He'll stand by +you, old man." + +"Would you please not mind," whispered the Teller faintly, "would +you please not mind if you took care not to brush against my shoulder +again?" + +The surgeon drew back with an exclamation; but the Teller's whisper +gathered strength, and they heard him murmuring oddly to himself. +Meredith moved forward. + +"What's that?" he asked, with a startled gesture. + +"Seems to be trying to sing, or something," said Barrett, bending over +to listen. The Teller swung his arm heavily over the side of the cot, +the fingers never ceasing their painful twitching, and Gay leaned down +and gently moved the cloths so that the white, scarred lips were free. +They moved steadily; they seemed to be framing the semblance of an old +ballad that Meredith knew; the whisper grew more distinct, and it became +a rich but broken voice, and they heard it singing, like the sound of +some far, halting minstrelsy: + +"Wave willows--murmur waters--golden sunbeams smile, Earthly +music--cannot waken--lovely--Annie Lisle." + +"My God!" cried Tom Meredith. + +The bandaged hand waved jauntily over the Teller's head. "Ah, men," he +said, almost clearly, and tried to lift himself on his arm, "I tell +you it's a grand eleven we have this year! There will be little left of +anything that stands against them. Did you see Jim Romley ride over his +man this afternoon?" + +As the voice grew clearer the sheriff stepped forward, but Tom Meredith, +with a loud exclamation of grief, threw himself on his knees beside +the cot and seized the wandering fingers in his own. "John!" he cried. +"John! Is it _you_?" + +The voice went on rapidly, not heeding him: "Ah, you needn't howl; I'd +have been as much use at right as that Sophomore. Well, laugh away, you +Indians! If it hadn't been for this ankle--but it seems to be my chest +that's hurt--and side--not that it matters, you know; the Sophomore's +just as good, or better. It's only my egotism. Yes, it must be +the side--and chest--and head--all over, I believe. Not that it +matters--I'll try again next year--next year I'll make it a daily, Helen +said, not that I should call you Helen--I mean Miss--Miss--Fisbee--no, +Sherwood--but I've always thought Helen was the prettiest name in the +world--you'll forgive me?--And please tell Parker there's no more +copy, and won't be--I wouldn't grind out another stick to save +his immortal--yes, yes, a daily--she said-ah, I never made a good +trade--no--they can't come seven miles--but I'll finish _you_, Skillett, +first; I know _you_! I know nearly all of you! Now let's sing 'Annie +Lisle.'" He lifted his hand as if to beat the time for a chorus. + +"Oh, John, John!" cried Tom Meredith, and sobbed outright. "My boy--my +boy--old friend----" The cry of the classmate was like that of a mother, +for it was his old idol and hero who lay helpless and broken before him. + + + +The brougham lamps and the apathetic sparks of the cab gleamed in front +of the hospital till daylight. Two other pairs of lamps joined them +in the earliest of the small hours, these subjoined to two deep-hooded +phaetons, from each of which quickly descended a gentleman with a beard, +an air of eminence, and a small, ominous black box. The air of eminence +was justified by the haste with which Meredith had sent for them, and by +their wide repute. They arrived almost simultaneously, and hastily shook +hands as they made their way to the ward down the long hall and up the +narrow corridor. They had a short conversation with Gay and a word +with the nurse, then turned the others out of the room by a practiced +innuendo of manner. They stayed a long time in the room without opening +the door. Meredith paced the hall alone, sometimes stopping to speak +to Warren Smith; but the two officials of peace sat together in dumb +consternation and astonishment. The sleepy young man relaxed himself +resignedly upon a bench in the hall had returned to the dormance from +which he had been roused. The big hospital was very still. Now and then +a nurse went through the hall, carrying something, and sometimes a +neat young physician passed cheerfully along, looking as if he had many +patients who were well enough to testify to his skill, but sick enough +to pay for it. Outside, through the open front doors, the crickets +chirped. + +Meredith went out on the steps, and breathed the cool night air. A +slender taint of drugs hung everywhere about the building, and the +almost imperceptible permeation sickened him; it was deadly, he thought, +and imbued with a hideous portent of suffering. That John Harkless, of +all men, should lie stifled with ether, and bandaged and splintered, +and smeared with horrible unguents, while they stabbed and slashed +and tortured him, and made an outrage and a sin of that grand, big, +dexterous body of his! Meredith shuddered. The lights in the little +ward were turned up, and they seemed to shine from a chamber of +horrors, while he waited, as a brother might have waited outside the +Inquisition--if, indeed, a brother would have been allowed to wait +outside the Inquisition. + +Alas, he had found John Harkless! He had "lost track" of him as men +sometimes do lose track of their best beloved, but it had always been a +comfort to know that Harkless _was_--somewhere, a comfort without which +he could hardly have got along. Like others he had been waiting for John +to turn up--on top, of course; for people would always believe in him +so, that he would be shoved ahead, no matter how much he hung back +himself--but Meredith had not expected him to turn up in Indiana. He had +heard vaguely that Harkless was abroad, and he had a general expectation +that people would hear of him over there some day, with papers like the +"Times" beseeching him to go on missions. And he found him here, in his +own home, a stranger, alone and dying, receiving what ministrations were +reserved for Jerry the Teller. But it was Helen Sherwood who had found +him. He wondered how much those two had seen of each other, down there +in Plattville. If they had liked each other, and Harkless could have +lived, he thought it might have simplified some things for Helen. "Poor +Helen!" he exclaimed aloud. Her telegram had a ring, even in the barren +four sentences. He wondered how much they had liked each other. Perhaps +she would wish to come at once. When those fellows came out of the room +he would send her a word by telegraph. + +When they came out--ah! he did not want them to come out; he was afraid. +They were an eternity--why didn't they come? No; he hoped they would not +come, just now. In a little time, in a few minutes, even, he would not +dread a few words so much; but _now_ he couldn't quite bear to be told +he had found his friend only to lose him, the man he had always most +needed, wanted, loved. Everybody had always cared for Harkless, wherever +he went. That _he_ had always cared for everybody was part of the +reason, maybe. Meredith remembered, now, hearing a man who had spent a +day in Plattville on business speak of him: "They've got a young fellow +down there who'll be Governor in a few years. He's a sort of dictator; +and runs the party all over that part of the State to suit his own sweet +will, just by sheer personality. And there isn't a man in that district +who wouldn't cheerfully lie down in the mud to let him pass over dry. +It's that young Harkless, you know; owns the 'Herald,' the paper +that downed McCune and smashed those imitation 'White-Caps' in Carlow +County." Meredith had been momentarily struck by the coincidence of the +name, but his notion of Harkless was so inseparably connected with +what was (to his mind) a handsome and more spacious--certainly more +illuminated--field of action, that the idea that this might be his +friend never entered his head. Helen had said something once--he could +not remember what--that made him think she had half suspected it, and +he had laughed. He thought of the whimsical fate that had taken her to +Plattville, of the reason for her going, and the old thought came to +him that the world is, after all, so very small. He looked up at the +twinkling stars; they were reassuring and kind. Under their benignancy +no loss could befall, no fate miscarry--for in his last thought he felt +his vision opened, for the moment, to perceive a fine tracery of fate. + +"Ah, that would be too beautiful!" he said. + +And then he shivered; for his name was spoken from within. + +It was soon plain to him that he need not have feared a few words, for +he did not in the least understand those with which the eminent surgeons +favored him; and they at once took their departure. He did understand, +however, what Horner told him. Mr. Barrett, Warren Smith, and the sleepy +young man had reentered the ward; and Horner was following, but waited +for Meredith. Somehow, the look of the sheriff's Sunday coat, wrinkling +forlornly from his broad, bent shoulders, was both touching and solemn. +He said simply: "He's conscious and not out of his head. They're gone in +to take his ante-mortem statement," and they went into the room. + +Harkless's eyes were bandaged. The lawyer was speaking to him, and as +Horner went awkwardly toward the cot. Warren said something indicative +of the sheriff's presence, and the hand on the sheet made a formless +motion which Horner understood, for he took the pale fingers in his own, +very gently, and then set them back. Smith turned toward Meredith, but +the latter made a gesture which forbade the attorney to speak of him, +and went to a corner and sat down with his head in his hands. + +The sleepy young man opened a notebook and shook a stylographic pen so +that the ink might flow freely. The lawyer, briefly and with unlegal +agitation, administered an oath, to which Harkless responded feebly, and +then there was silence. + +"Now, Mr. Harkless, if you please," said Barrett, insinuatingly; "if you +feel like telling us as much as you can about it?" + +He answered in a low, rather indistinct voice, very deliberately, +pausing before almost every word. It was easy work for the sleepy +stenographer. + +"I understand. I don't want to go off my head again before I finish. +Of course I know why you want this. If it were only for myself I should +tell you nothing, because, if I am to leave, I should like it better if +no one were punished. But that's a bad community over there; they are +everlastingly worrying our people; they have always been a bother to +us, and it's time it was stopped for good. I don't believe very much +in punishment, but you can't do a great deal of reforming with the +Cross-Roaders unless you catch them young--very young, before they're +weaned--they wean them on whiskey, I think. I realize you needn't have +sworn me for me to tell you this." + +Homer and Smith had started at the mention of the Cross-Roads, but they +subdued their ejaculations, while Mr. Barrett looked as if he had known +it, of course. The room was still, save for the dim voice and the soft +transcribings of the stylographic pen. + +"I left Judge Briscoe's, and went west on the pike to a big tree. It +rained, and I stepped under the tree for shelter. There was a man on the +other side of the fence. It was Bob Skillett. He was carrying his gown +and hood--I suppose it was that--on his arm. Then I saw two others a +little farther east, in the middle of the road; and I think they had +followed me from the Briscoes', or near there. They had their foolish +regalia on, as all the rest had,--there was plenty of lightning to see. +The two in the road were simply standing there in the rain, looking +at me through the eye-holes in their hoods. I knew there were +others--plenty--but I thought they were coming from behind me--the west. + +"I wanted to get home--the court-house yard was good enough for me--so I +started east, toward town. I passed the two gentlemen; and one fell down +as I went by him, but the other fired a shot as a signal, and I got +his hood off his face for it--I stopped long enough--and it was Force +Johnson. I know him well. Then I ran, and they followed. A little ahead +of me I saw six or eight of them spread across the road. I knew I'd have +a time getting through, so I jumped the fence to cut across the fields, +and I lit in a swarm of them--it had rained them just where I jumped. I +set my back to the fence, but one of the fellows in the road leaned over +and smashed my head in, rather--with the butt of a gun, I believe. I +came out from the fence and they made a little circle around me. No +one said anything. I saw they had ropes and saplings, and I didn't want +that, exactly, so I went into them. I got a good many hoods off before +it was over, and I can swear to quite a number besides those I told +you." + +He named the men, slowly and carefully. Then he went on: "I think +they gave up the notion of whipping. We all got into a bunch, and they +couldn't clear to shoot without hitting some of their own: and there was +a lot of gouging and kicking--one fellow nearly got my left eye, and +I tried to tear him apart and he screamed so that I think he was hurt. +Once or twice I thought I might get away, but somebody hammered me over +the head and face again, and I got dizzy; and then they all jumped away +from me suddenly, and Bob Skillett stepped up--and--shot me. He waited +for a good flurry of lightning, and I was slow tumbling down. Some one +else fired a shot-gun, I think--I can't be sure--about the same time, +from the side. I tried to get up, but I couldn't, and then they got +together, for a consultation. The man I had hurt--I didn't recognize +him--came and looked at me. He was nursing himself all over; and +groaned; and I laughed, I--at any rate, my arm was lying stretched out +on the grass, and he stamped his heel into my hand, and after a little +of that I quit feeling. + +"I'm not quite clear about what happened afterwards. They went away, not +far, I think. There's an old shed, a cattle-shelter, near there, and +I think the storm drove them under it to wait for a slack. It seemed a +long time. Sometimes I was conscious, sometimes I wasn't. I thought +I might be drowned, but I suppose the rain was good for me. Then I +remember being in motion, being dragged and carried a long way. They +took me up a steep, short slope, and set me down near the top. I knew +that was the railroad embankment, and I thought they meant to lay me +across the track, but it didn't occur to them, I suppose--they are not +familiar with melodrama--and a long time after that I felt and heard a +great banging and rattling under me and all about me, and it came to me +that they had disposed of me by hoisting me into an empty freight-car. +The odd part of it was that the car wasn't empty, for there were two men +already in it, and I knew them by what they said to me. + +"They were the two shell-men who cheated Hartley Bowlder, and they +weren't vindictive; they even seemed to be trying to help me a little, +though perhaps they were only stealing my clothes, and maybe they +thought for them to do anything unpleasant would be superfluous; I could +see that they thought I was done for, and that they had been hiding in +the car when I was put there. I asked them to try to call the train +men for me, but they wouldn't listen, or else I couldn't make myself +understood. That's all. The rest is a blur. I haven't known anything +more until those surgeons were here. Please tell me how long ago it +happened. I shall not die, I think; there are a good many things I want +to know about." He moved restlessly and the nurse soothed him. + +Meredith rose and left the room with a noiseless step. He went out +to the stars again, and looked to them to check the storm of rage and +sorrow that buffeted his bosom. He understood lynching, now the thing +was home to him, and his feeling was no inspiration of a fear lest the +law miscarry; it was the itch to get his own hand on the rope. Horner +came out presently, and whispered a long, broad, profound curse upon +the men of the Cross-Roads, and Meredith's gratitude to him was keen. +Barrett went away, soon after, leaving the cab for the gentlemen from +Plattville. Meredith had a strange, unreasonable desire to kick Barrett, +possibly for his sergeant's sake. Warren Smith sat in the ward with the +nurse and Gay, and the room was very quiet. It was a long vigil. + +They were only waiting. + +At five o'clock he was still alive--just that, Smith came out to say. +Meredith sent his driver with a telegram to Helen which would give +Plattville the news that Harkless was found and was not yet gone from +them. Homer took the cab and left for the station; there was a train, +and there were things for him to do in Carlow. At noon Meredith sent +a second telegram to Helen, as barren of detail as the first: he was +alive--was a little improved. This telegram did not reach her, for she +was on the way to Rouen, and half of the population of Carlow--at least, +so it appeared to the unhappy conductor of the accommodation--was with +her. + +They seemed to feel that they could camp in the hospital halls and +corridors, and they were an incalculable worry to the authorities. More +came on every train, and nearly all brought flowers, and jelly, and +chickens for preparing broth, and they insisted that the two latter +delicacies be fed to the patient at once. Meredith was possessed by an +unaccountable responsibility for them all, and invited a great many to +stay at his own house. They were still in ignorance of the truth about +the Cross-Roads, and some of them spent the day (it was Sunday) in +planning an assault upon the Rouen jail for the purpose of lynching +Slattery in case Harkless's condition did not improve at once. Those who +had heard his statement kept close mouths until the story appeared +in full in the Rouen papers on Monday morning; but by that time every +member of the Cross-Roads White-Caps was lodged in the Rouen jail with +Slattery. Homer and a heavily armed posse rode over to the muddy corners +on Sunday night, and the sheriff discovered that he might have taken the +Skilletts and Johnsons single-handed and unarmed. Their nerve was +gone; they were shaken and afraid; and, to employ a figure somewhat +inappropriate to their sullen, glad surrender, they fell upon his neck +in their relief at finding the law touching them. They had no wish to +hear "John Brown's Body" again. They wanted to get inside of a strong +jail, and to throw themselves on the mercy of the court as soon as +possible. And those whom Harkless had not recognized delayed not to give +themselves up; they did not desire to remain in Six-Cross-Roads. Bob +Skillett, Force Johnson, and one or two others needed the care of a +physician badly, and one man was suffering from a severely wrenched +back. Homer had a train stopped at a crossing, so that his prisoners +need not be taken through Plattville, and he brought them all safely +to Rouen. Had there chanced any one to ride through the deserted +Cross-Roads the next morning, passing the trampled fields and the +charred ruins of the two shanties to the east, and listening to the +lamentations of the women and children, he would have declared that at +last the old score had been paid, and that Six-Cross-Roads was wiped +out. + +The Carlow folks were deeply impressed with the two eminent surgeons, +of whom some of them had heard, and on Tuesday, the bulletins marking +considerable encouragement, most of them decided to temporarily risk the +editor of the "Herald" to such capable hands, and they returned quietly +to their homes; only a few were delayed in reaching Carlow by travelling +to the first station in the opposite direction before they succeeded in +planting themselves on the proper train. + +Meanwhile, the object of their solicitude tossed and burned on his bed +of pain. He was delirious most of the time, and, in the intervals of +half-consciousness, found that his desire to live, very strong at first, +had disappeared; he did not care much about anything except rest--he +wanted peace. In his wanderings he was almost always back in his college +days, beholding them in an unhappy, distorted fashion. He would lie +asprawl on the sward with the others, listening to the Seniors singing +on the steps, and, all at once, the old, kindly faces would expand +enormously and press over him with hideous mouthings, and an ugly Senior +in cap and gown would stamp him and grind a spiked heel into his hand; +then they would toss him high into air that was all flames, and he would +fall and fall through the raging heat, seeing the cool earth far beneath +him, but never able to get down to it again. And then he was driven +miles and miles by dusky figures, through a rain of boiling water; and +at other times the whole universe was a vast, hot brass bell, and it +gave off a huge, continuous roar and hum, while he was a mere point of +consciousness floating in the exact centre of the heat and sound waves, +and he listened, listened for years, to the awful, brazen hum from which +there could be no escape; at the same time it seemed to him that he was +only a Freshman on the slippery roof of the tower, trying to steal the +clapper of the chapel bell. + +Finally he came to what he would have considered a lucid interval, had +it not appeared that Helen Sherwood was whispering to Tom Meredith at +the foot of his bed. This he knew to be a fictitious presentation of +his fever, for was she not by this time away and away for foreign lands? +And, also, Tom Meredith was a slim young thing, and not the middle-aged +youth with an undeniable stomach and a baldish head, who, by the +grotesque necromancy of his hallucinations, assumed a preposterous +likeness to his old friend. He waved his hand to the figures and they +vanished like figments of a dream; but all the same the vision had been +realistic enough for the lady to look exquisitely pretty. No one could +help wishing to stay in a world which contained as charming a picture as +that. + +And then, too quickly, the moment of clearness passed; and he was +troubled about the "Herald," beseeching those near him to put copies +of the paper in his hands, threatening angrily to believe they were +deceiving him, that his paper had suspended, if the three issues of +the week were not instantly produced. What did they mean by keeping the +truth from him? He knew the "Herald" had not come out. Who was there to +get it out in his absence? He raised himself on his elbow and struggled +to be up; and they had hard work to quiet him. + +But the next night Meredith waited near his bedside, haggard and +dishevelled. Harkless had been lying in a long stupor; suddenly he +spoke, quite loudly, and the young surgeon, Gay, who leaned over him, +remembered the words and the tone all his life. + +"Away and away--across the waters," said John Harkless. "She was +here--once--in June." + +"What is it, John?" whispered Meredith, huskily. "You're easier, aren't +you?" + +And John smiled a little, as if, for an instant, his swathed eyes +penetrated the bandages, and saw and knew his old friend again. + +That same night a friend of Rodney McCune's sent a telegram from Rouen: +"He is dying. His paper is dead. Your name goes before convention in +September." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. JAMES FISBEE + +On Monday morning three men sat in council in the "Herald" office; that +is, if staring out of dingy windows in a demented silence may be +called sitting in council; that was what Mr. Fisbee and Parker and Ross +Schofield were doing. By almost desperate exertions, these three and Bud +Tipworthy had managed to place before the public the issues of the paper +for the previous week, unaided by their chief, or, rather, aided by long +accounts of his condition and the manner of his mishap; and, in +truth, three copies were at that moment in the possession of Dr. Gay, +accompanied by a note from Parker warning the surgeon to exhibit them to +his patient only as a last resort, as the foreman feared the perusal of +them might cause a relapse. + +By indiscriminate turns, acting as editors, reporters, and +typesetters--and particularly space-writers--the three men had worried +out three issues, and part of the fourth (to appear the next morning) +was set up; but they had come to the end of their string, and there were +various horrid gaps yet to fill in spite of a too generous spreading of +advertisements. Bud Tipworthy had been sent out to besiege Miss Tibbs, +all of whose recent buds of rhyme had been hot-housed into inky blossom +during the week, and after a long absence the youth returned with a +somewhat abrupt quatrain, entitled "The Parisians of Old," which she had +produced while he waited--only four lines, according to the measure they +meted, which was not regardful of art--less than a drop in the bucket, +or, to preserve the figure, a single posy where they needed a bouquet. +Bud went down the rickety outside stairs, and sat on the lowest +step, whistling "Wait till the Clouds Roll by, Jenny"; Ross Schofield +descended to set up the quatrain, and Fisbee and Parker were left to +silence and troubled meditation. + +They were seated on opposite sides of Harkless's desk. Sheets of blank +scratch-paper lay before them, and they relaxed not their knit brows. +Now and then, one of them, after gazing vacantly about the room for +ten or fifteen minutes, would attack the sheet before him with fiercest +energy; then the energy would taper off, and the paragraph halt, the +writer peruse it dubiously, then angrily tear off the sheet and hurl +it to the floor. All around them lay these snowballs of defeated +journalism. + +Mr. Parker was a long, loose, gaunt gentleman, with a peremptory +forehead and a capable jaw, but on the present occasion his capability +was baffled and swamped in the attempt to steer the craft of his talent +up an unaccustomed channel without a pilot. "I don't see as it's any +use, Fisbee," he said, morosely, after a series of efforts that littered +the floor in every direction. "I'm a born compositor, and I can't shift +my trade. I stood the pace fairly for a week, but I'll have to give up; +I'm run plumb dry. I only hope they won't show him our Saturday with +your three columns of 'A Word of the Lotus Motive,' reprinted from +February. I begin to sympathize with the boss, because I know what he +felt when I ballyragged him for copy. Yes, sir, I know how it is to be +an editor in a dead town now." + +"We must remember, too," said his companion, thoughtfully, "there is the +Thursday issue of this week to be prepared, almost at once." + +"_Don't_! Please don't mention that, Fisbee!" Parker tilted far back in +his chair with his feet anchored under the desk, preserving a precarious +balance. "I ain't as grateful for my promotion to joint Editor-in-Chief +as I might be. I'm a middling poor man for the hour, I guess," he +remarked, painfully following the peregrinations of a fly on his +companion's sleeve. + +Mr. Fisbee twisted up another sheet, and employed his eyes in following +the course of a crack in the plaster, a slender black aperture which +staggered across the dusty ceiling and down the dustier wall to +disappear behind a still dustier map of Carlow County. "That's the +trouble!" exclaimed Parker, observing the other's preoccupation. "Soon +as you get to writing a line or two that seems kind of promising, you +begin to take a morbid interest in that blamed crack. It's busted up +enough copy for me, the last eight days, to have filled her up twenty +times over. I don't know as I ever care to see that crack again. I +turned my back on it, but there wasn't any use in that, because if a +fly lights on you I watch him like a brother, and if there ain't any fly +I've caught a mania for tapping my teeth with a pencil, that is just as +good." + +To these two gentlemen, thus disengaged, reentered (after a much longer +absence than Miss Selina's quatrain justified) Mr. Ross Schofield, a +healthy glow of exertion lending pleasant color to his earnest visage, +and an almost visible laurel of success crowning his brows. In addition +to this imaginary ornament, he was horned with pencils over both ears, +and held some scribbled sheets in his hand. + +"I done a good deal down there," he announced cheerfully, drawing up a +chair to the desk. "I thought up a heap of things I've heard lately, and +they'll fill up mighty well. That there poem of Miss Seliny's was a kind +of an inspiration to me, and I tried one myself, and it didn't come +hard at all. When I got started once, it jest seemed to flow from me. +I didn't set none of it up," he added modestly, but with evident +consciousness of having unearthed genius in himself and an elate +foreknowledge of the treat in store for his companions. "I thought I'd +ort to see how you liked it first." He offered the papers to Mr. Parker, +but the foreman shook his head. + +"You read it, Ross," I said. "I don't believe I feel hearty enough +to-day. Read the items first--we can bear the waiting." + +"What waiting?" inquired Mr. Schofield. + +"For the poem," replied Parker, grimly. + +With a vague but not fleeting smile, Ross settled the sheets in order, +and exhibited tokens of that pleasant nevousness incident to appearing +before a critical audience, armed with literature whose merits should +delight them out of the critical attitude. "I run across a great scheme +down there," he volunteered amiably, by way of preface; "I described +everything in full, in as many words as I could think up; it's mighty +filling, and it'll please the public, too; it gives 'em a lot more +information than they us'ally git. I reckon there's two sticks of jest +them extry words alone." + +"Go on," said the foreman, rather ominously. + +Ross began to read, a matter necessitating a puckered brow and at times +an amount of hesitancy and ruminating, as his results had already cooled +a little, and he found his hand difficult to decipher. "Here's the +first," he said: + +"'The large and handsome, fawn-colored, two years and one-half year old +Jersey of Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire----'" + +The foreman interrupted him: "Every reader of the 'Herald' will be glad +to know that Jersey's age and color! But go on." + +"'--Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire,'" pursued his assistant, with +some discomfiture, "'--Esquire, our popular and well-dressed +fellow-citizen----'" + +"You're right; Bib Jones is a heavy swell," said Parker in a breaking +voice. + +"'--Citizen, can be daily seen wandering from the far end of his +pasture-lot to the other far end of it.'" + +"'His!'" exclaimed Parker. "'_His_ pasture-lot?' The Jersey's?" + +"No," returned the other, meekly, "Bib Jones's." + +"Oh," said Parker. "Is that the end of that item? It is! You want to get +out of Plattville, my friend; it's too small for you; you go to Rouen +and you'll be city editor of the 'Journal' inside of a week. Let's have +another." + +Mr. Schofield looked up blankly; however, he felt that there was enough +live, legitimate news in his other items to redeem the somewhat tame +quality of the first, and so, after having crossed out several of the +extra words which had met so poor a reception, he proceeded: + +"'Whit Upton's pigs broke out last Wednesday and rooted up a fine patch +of garden truck. Hard luck, Whit.' + +"'Jerusalem Hawkins took a drive yesterday afternoon. He had the bay +to his side-bar. Jee's buggy has been recently washed. Congratulations, +Jee.'" + +"There's thrilling information!" shouted the foreman. "That'll touch the +gentle reader to the marrow. The boss had to use some pretty rotten copy +himself, but he never got as low as that. But we'll use it; oh, we'll +use it! If we don't get her out he'll have a set-back, but if they show +her to him it'll kill him. If it doesn't, and he gets well, he'll kill +us. But we'll use it, Ross. Don't read any more to us, though; I feel +weaker than I did, and I wasn't strong before. Go down and set it all +up." + +Mr. Schofield rejoined with an injured air, and yet hopefully: "I'd like +to see what you think of the poetry--it seemed all right to me, but I +reckon you ain't ever the best judge of your own work. Shall I read it?" +The foreman only glanced at him in silence, and the young man took this +for assent. "I haven't made up any name for it yet." + + "'O, the orphan boy stood on the hill, + The wind blew cold and very chill--'" + +Glancing at his auditors, he was a trifle abashed to observe a glaze +upon the eyes of Mr. Parker, while a purple tide rose above his +neck-band and unnaturally distended his throat and temples. With a +placative little laugh, Mr. Schofield remarked: "I git the swing to her +all right, I reckon, but somehow it doesn't sound so kind of good as +when I was writing it." There was no response, and he went on hurriedly: + + "'But there he saw the little rill--'" + +The poet paused to say, with another amiable laugh: "It's sort of hard +to git out of them ill, hill, chill rhymes once you strike 'em. It runs +on like this: + + "'--Little rill + That curved and spattered around the hill.' + +"I guess that's all right, to use 'hill' twice; don't you reckon so? + + "'And the orphan he stood there until + The wind and all gave him a chill; + And he sickened--'" + +That day Ross read no more, for the tall printer, seemingly incapable +of coherent speech, kicked the desk impotently, threw his arms above +his head, and, his companions confidently looking to see him foam at the +mouth, lost his balance and toppled over backward, his extensive legs +waving wildly in the air as he struck the floor. Mr. Schofield fled. + +Parker made no effort to rise, but lay glaring at the ceiling, breathing +hard. He remained in that position for a long time, until finally the +glaze wore away from his eyes and a more rational expression settled +over his features. Mr. Fisbee addressed him timidly: "You don't think we +could reduce the size of the sheet?" + +"It would kill him," answered his prostrate companion. "We've got to +fill her solid some way, though I give up; I don't know how. How that +man has worked! It was genius. He just floated around the county and +soaked in items, and he wrote editorials that people read. One thing's +certain: we can't do it. We're ruining his paper for him, and when he +gets able to read, it'll hurt him bad. Mighty few knew how much pride he +had in it. Has it struck you that now would be a precious good time for +it to occur to Rod McCune to come out of his hole? Suppose we go by the +board, what's to stop him? What's to stop him, anyway? Who knows where +the boss put those copies and affidavits, and if we did know, would we +know the best way to use 'em? If we did, what's to keep the 'Herald' +alive until McCune lifts his head? And if we don't stop him, the 'Carlow +County Herald' is finished. Something's got to be done!'" + +No one realized this more poignantly than Mr. Fisbee, but no one was +less capable of doing something of his own initiation. And although +the Tuesday issue was forthcoming, embarrassingly pale in spots--most +spots--Mr. Martin remarked rather publicly that the items were not what +you might call stirring, and that the unpatented pages put him in mind +of Jones's field in winter with a dozen chunks of coal dropped in the +snow. And his observations on the later issues of the week (issues which +were put forth with a suggestion of spasm, and possibly to the permanent +injury of Mr. Parker's health, he looked so thin) were too cruelly +unkind to be repeated here. Indeed, Mr. Fisbee, Parker, the luckless Mr. +Schofield, and the young Tipworthy may be not untruthfully likened to +a band of devoted mariners lost in the cold and glaring regions of a +journalistic Greenland: limitless plains of empty white paper extending +about them as far as the eye could reach, while life depended upon their +making these terrible voids productive; and they shrank appalled from +the task, knowing no means to fertilize the barrens; having no talent to +bring the still snows into harvests, and already feeling-in the chill of +Mr. Martin's remarks--a touch of the frost that might wither them. + +It was Fisbee who caught the first glimpse of a relief expedition +clipping the rough seas on its lively way to rescue them, and, although +his first glimpse of the jaunty pennant of the relieving vessels was +over the shoulder of an iceberg, nothing was surer than that the craft +was flying to them with all good and joyous speed. The iceberg just +mentioned assumed--by no melting process, one may be sure--the form of a +long letter, first postmarked at Rouen, and its latter substance was as +follows: + + +"Henry and I have always believed you as selfish, James Fisbee, as +you are self-ingrossed and incapable. She has told us of your +'renunciation'; of your 'forbidding' her to remain with you; how you +'commanded,' after you had 'begged' her, to return to us, and how her +conscience told her she should stay and share your life in spite of +our long care of her, but that she yielded to your 'wishes' and our +entreaty. What have you ever done for her and what have you to offer +her? She is our daughter, and needless to say we shall still take care +of her, for no one believes you capable of it, even in that miserable +place, and, of course, in time she will return to her better wisdom, +her home, and her duty. I need scarcely say we have given up the happy +months we had planned to spend in Dresden. Henry and I can only stay at +home to pray that her preposterous mania will wear itself out in short +order, as she will find herself unfitted for the ridiculous task which +she insists upon attempting against the earnest wishes of us who have +been more than father and mother to her. Of course, she has talked +volumes of her affection for us, and of her gratitude, which we do not +want--we only want her to stay with us. Please, please try to make her +come back to us--we cannot bear it long. If you are a man you will send +her to us soon. Her excuse for not returning on the day we wired our +intention to go abroad at once (and I may as well tell you now that our +intention to go was formed in order to bring affairs to a crisis and to +draw her away from your influence--we always dreaded her visit to you +and held it off for years)--her excuse was that your best friend, and, +as I understand it, your patron, had been injured in some brawl in +that Christian country of yours--a charming place to take a girl like +her--and she would not leave you in your 'distress' until more was known +of the man's injuries. And now she insists--and you will know it from +her by the next mail--on returning to Plattville, forsooth, because +she has been reading your newspaper, and she says she knows you are in +difficulties over it, and it is her moral obligation--as by some wild +reasoning of her own she considers herself responsible for your ruffling +patron's having been alone when he was shot--to go down and help. I +suppose he made love to her, as all the young men she meets always do, +sooner or later, but I have no fear of any rustic entanglements tor her; +she has never been really interested, save in one affair. We are +quite powerless--we have done everything; but we cannot alter her +determination to edit your paper for you. Naturally, she knows nothing +whatever about such work, but she says, with the air of triumphantly +quelching all such argument, that she has talked a great deal to Mr. +Macauley of the 'Journal.' Mr. Macauley is the affair I have alluded to; +he is what she has meant when she has said, at different times, that she +was interested in journalism. But she is very business-like now. She +has bought a typewriter and purchased a great number of soft pencils and +erasers at an art shop; I am only surprised that she does not intend to +edit your miserable paper in water-colors. She is coming at once. For +mercy's sake don't telegraph her not to; your forbiddings work the +wrong way. Our only hope is that she will find the conditions so utterly +discouraging at the very start that she will give it up and come home. +If you are a man you will help to make them so. She has promised to stay +with that country girl with whom she contracted such an incomprehensible +friendship at Miss Jennings's. + +"Oh, James, pray for grace to be a man once in your life and send her +back to us! Be a man--try to be a man! Remember the angel you killed! +Remember all we have done for you and what a return you have made, and +be a man for the first time. Try and be a man! + + "Your unhappy sister-in-law, + + "MARTHA SHERWOOD." + + +Mr. Fisbee read the letter with a great, rising delight which no sense +of duty could down; indeed, he perceived that his sense of duty had +ceased to conflict with the one strong hope of his life, just as he +perceived that to be a man, according to Martha Sherwood, was, in part, +to assist Martha Sherwood to have her way in things; and, for the rest, +to be the sort of man she persuaded herself she would be were she not a +woman. This he had never been able to be. + +By some whimsy of fate, or by a failure of Karma (or, perhaps, by some +triumph of Kismetic retribution), James Fisbee was born in one of the +most business-like and artless cities of a practical and modern country, +of money-getting, money-saving parents, and he was born a dreamer of +the past. He grew up a student of basilican lore, of choir-screens, of +Persian frescoes, and an ardent lounger in the somewhat musty precincts +of Chaldea and Byzantium and Babylon. Early Christian Symbolism, a +dispute over the site of a Greek temple, the derivation of the lotus +column, the restoration of a Gothic buttress--these were the absorbing +questions of his youth, with now and then a lighter moment spent in +analytical consideration of the extra-mural decorations of St. Mark's. +The world buzzed along after its own fashion, not disturbing him, and +his absorptions permitted only a faint consciousness of the despair of +his relatives regarding his mind. Arrived at middle-age, and a little +more, he found himself alone in the world (though, for that matter, he +had always been alone and never of the world), and there was plenty of +money for him with various bankers who appeared to know about looking +after it. Returning to the town of his nativity after sundry expeditions +in Syria--upon which he had been accompanied by dusky gentlemen with +pickaxes and curly, long-barrelled muskets--he met, and was married by, +a lady who was ambitious, and who saw in him (probably as a fulfilment +of another Kismetic punishment) a power of learning and a destined +success. Not long after the birth of their only child, a daughter, +he was "called to fill the chair" of archaeology in a newly founded +university; one of the kind which a State and a millionaire combine to +purchase ready-made. This one was handed down off the shelf in a more or +less chaotic condition, and for a period of years betrayed considerable +doubt as to its own intentions, undecided whether they were classical +or technical; and in the settlement of that doubt lay the secret of the +past of the one man in Plattville so unhappy as to possess a past. From +that settlement and his own preceding action resulted his downfall, +his disgrace with his wife's relatives, the loss of his wife, the rage, +surprise, and anguish of her sister, Martha, and Martha's husband, Henry +Sherwood, and the separation from his little daughter, which was by +far to him the hardest to bear. For Fisbee, in his own way, and without +consulting anybody--it never occurred to him, and he was supposed often +to forget that he had a wife and child--had informally turned over to +the university all the money which the banks had kindly taken care of, +and had given it to equip an expedition which never expedited. A new +president of the institution was installed; he talked to the trustees; +they met, and elected to become modern and practical and technical; they +abolished the course in fine arts, which abolished Fisbee's connection +with them, and they then employed his money to erect a building for the +mechanical engineering department. Fisbee was left with nothing. His +wife and her kinsfolk exhibited no brilliancy in holding a totally +irresponsible man down to responsibilities, and they made a tragedy of +a not surprising fiasco. Mrs. Fisbee had lived in her ambitions, and +she died of heartbreak over the discovery of what manner of man she had +married. But, before she died, she wisely provided for her daughter. + +Fisbee told Parker the story after his own queer fashion. + +"You see, Mr. Parker," he said, as they sat together in the dust and +litter of the "Herald" office, on Sunday afternoon, "you see, I admit +that my sister-in-law has always withheld her approbation from me, and +possibly her disapproval is well founded--I shall say probably. My wife +had also a considerable sum, and this she turned over to me at the time +of our marriage, though I had no wish regarding it one way or the other. +When I gave my money to the university with which I had the honor to be +connected, I added to it the fund I had received from her, as I was the +recipient of a comfortable salary as a lecturer in the institution +and had no fear of not living well, and I was greatly interested in +providing that the expedition should be perfectly equipped. Expeditions +of the magnitude of that which I had planned are expensive, I should, +perhaps, inform you, and this one was to carry on investigations +regarding several important points, very elaborately; and I am still +convinced it would have settled conclusively many vital questions +concerning the derivation of the Babylonian column, as: whether the +lotus column may be without prejudice said to--but at the present moment +I will not enter into that. I fear I had no great experience in money +matters, for the transaction had been almost entirely verbal, and +there was nothing to bind the trustees to carry out my plans for the +expedition. They were very sympathetic, but what could they do? they +begged leave to inquire. Such an institution cannot give back money once +donated, and it was clearly out of character for a school of technology +and engineering to send savants to investigate the lotus column." + +"I see," Mr. Parker observed, genially. He listened with the most +ingratiating attention, knowing that he had a rich sensation to +set before Plattville as a dish before a king, for Fisbee's was no +confidential communication. The old man might have told a part of his +history long ago, but it had never occurred to him to talk about his +affairs--things had a habit of not occurring to Fisbee--and the efforts +of the gossips to draw him out always passed over his serene and absent +head. + +"It was a blow to my wife," the old man continued, sadly, "and I cannot +deny that her reproaches were as vehement as her disappointment was +sincere." He hurried over this portion of his narrative with a vaguely +troubled look, but the intelligent Parker read poor Mrs. Fisbee's state +of mind between the sentences. "She never seemed to regard me in the +same light again," the archaeologist went on. "She did not conceal +from me that she was surprised and that she could not look upon me as a +practical man; indeed, I may say, she appeared to regard me with marked +antipathy. She sent for her sister, and begged her to take our daughter +and keep her from me, as she did not consider me practical enough-I will +substitute for her more embittered expressions--to provide for a +child and instruct it in the world's ways. My sister-in-law, who was +childless, consented to adopt the little one, on the conditions that +I renounced all claim, and that the child legally assumed her name and +should be in all respects as her own daughter, and that I consented to +see her but once a year, in Rouen, at my brother-in-law's home. + +"I should have refused, but I--my wife--that is--she was--very +pressing--in her last hours, and they all seemed to feel that I ought to +make amends--all except the little girl herself, I should say, for she +possessed, even as an infant, an exceptional affection for her father. +I had nothing; my salary was gone, and I was discomfited by the combined +actions of the trustees and my relatives, so--I--I gave her up to them, +and my wife passed away in a more cheerful frame of mind, I think. That +is about all. One of the instructors obtained the position here for me, +which I--I finally--lost, and I went to See the little girl every New +Year's day. This year she declared her intention of visiting _me_, but +she was persuaded by friends who were conversant with the circumstances +to stay with them, where I could be with her almost as much as at my +apartment at Mr. Tibbs's. She had long since declared her intention of +some day returning to live with me, and when she came she was strenuous +in insisting that the day had come." The old man's voice broke suddenly +as he observed: "She has--a very--beautiful--character, Mr. Parker." + +The foreman nodded with warm confirmation. "I believe you, sir. Yes, +sir; I saw her, and I guess she looks it. You take that kind of a lady +usually, and catch her in a crowd like the one show-day, and she can't +help doing the Grand Duchess, giving the tenants a treat--but not her; +she didn't seem to _separate_ herself from 'em, some way." + +"She is a fine lady," said the other simply. "I did not accept her +renunciation, though I acknowledge I forbade it with a very poignant +envy. I could not be the cause of her giving up for my sake her state +of ease and luxury--for my relatives are more than well-to-do, and they +made it plain she must choose between them and me, with the design, I +think, of making it more difficult to choose me. And, also, it seemed +to me, as it did to her, that she owed them nearly everything, but she +declared I had lived alone so long that she owed me everything, also. +She is a--beautiful--character, Mr. Parker." + +"Well," said Parker, after a pause, "the town will be upside down over +this; and folks will be mighty glad to have it explained about your +being out there so much, and at the deepo, and all this and that. +Everybody in the place has been wondering what in--that is--" he +finished in some confusion--"that is--what I started to say was that +it won't be so bad as it might be, having a lady in the office here. I +don't cuss to speak of, and Ross can lay off on his till the boss comes +back. Besides, it's our only chance. If she can't make the 'Herald' hum, +we go to the wall." + +The old man did not seem to hear him. "I forbade the renunciation she +wished to make for my sake," he said, gently, "but I accept it now for +the sake of our stricken friend--for Mr. Harkless." + +"And for the Carlow 'Herald,'" completed the foreman. + +The morning following that upon which this conversation took place, +the two gentlemen stood together on the station platform, awaiting +the arrival of the express from Rouen. It was a wet gray day; the wide +country lay dripping under formless wraps of thin mist, and a warm, +drizzling rain blackened the weather-beaten shingles of the station; +made clear-reflecting puddles of the unevenly worn planks of the +platform, and dampened the packing-cases that never went anywhere too +thoroughly for occupation by the station-lounger, and ran in a little +crystal stream off Fisbee's brown cotton umbrella and down Mr. Parker's +back. The 'bus driver, Mr. Bennett, the proprietor of two attendant +"cut-unders," and three or four other worthies whom business, or the +lack of it, called to that locality, availed themselves of the shelter +of the waiting-room, but the gentlemen of the "Herald" were too agitated +to be confined, save by the limits of the horizon. They had reached the +station half an hour before train time, and consumed the interval in +pacing the platform under the cotton umbrella, addressing each other +only in monosyllables. Those in the waiting-room gossiped eagerly, and +for the thousandth time, about the late events, and the tremendous news +concerning Fisbee. Judd Bennett looked out through the rainy doorway at +the latter with reverence and a fine pride of townsmanship, declaring +it to be his belief that Fisbee and Parker were waiting for her at +the present moment. It was a lady, and a bird of a lady, too, else why +should Cale Parker be wearing a coat, and be otherwise dooded and fixed +up beyond any wedding? Judd and his friends were somewhat excited over +Parker. + +Fisbee was clad in his best shabby black, which lent an air of state to +the occasion, but Mr. Parker--Caleb Parker, whose heart, during his five +years of residence in Plattville, had been steel-proof against all the +feminine blandishments of the town, whose long, lank face had shown +beneath as long, and lanker, locks of proverbially uncombed hair, he who +had for weeks conspicuously affected a single, string-patched suspender, +who never, even upon the Sabbath day, wore a collar or blacked his +shoes--what aesthetic leaven had entered his soul that he donned not a +coat alone but also a waistcoat with checks?--and, more than _that_, a +gleaming celluloid collar?--and, more than that, a brilliant blue tie? +What had this iron youth to do with a rising excitement at train time +and brilliant blue ties? + +Also, it might have been inquired if this parade of fashion had no +connection with the simultaneous action of Mr. Ross Schofield; for +Ross was at this hour engaged in decorating the battered chairs in the +"Herald" editorial room with blue satin ribbon, the purchase of which at +the Dry Goods Emporium had been directed by a sudden inspiration of his +superior of the composing force. It was Ross's intention to garnish +each chair with an elaborately tied bow, but, as he was no sailor and +understood only the intricacies of a hard-knot, he confined himself +to that species of ornamentation, leaving, however, very long ends of +ribbon hanging down after the manner of the pendants of rosettes. + +It scarcely needs the statement that his labors were in honor of the new +editor-in-chief of the Carlow "Herald." The advent and the purposes +of this personage were, as yet, known certainly to only those of the +"Herald" and to the Briscoes. It had been arranged, however, that Minnie +and her father were not to come to the station, for the journalistic +crisis was immoderately pressing; the "Herald" was to appear on the +morrow, and the new editor wished to plunge directly, and without the +briefest distraction, into the paper's difficulties, now accumulated +into a veritable sea of troubles. The editor was to be delivered to the +Briscoes at eventide and returned by them again at dewy morn; and +this was to be the daily programme. It had been further--and most +earnestly--stipulated that when the wounded proprietor of the ailing +journal should be informed of the addition to his forces, he was not +to know, or to have the slenderest hint of, the sex or identity of the +person in charge during his absence. It was inevitable that Plattville +(already gaping to the uttermost) would buzz voluminously over it before +night, but Judge Briscoe volunteered to prevent the buzz from reaching +Rouen. He undertook to interview whatever citizens should visit +Harkless, or write to him--when his illness permitted visits and +letters--and forewarn them of the incumbent's desires. To-day, the +judge stayed at home with his daughter, who trilled about the house +for happiness, and, in their place, the "Herald" deputation of two had +repaired to the station to act as a reception committee. + +Far away the whistle of the express was heard, muffled to sweetness in +the damp, and the drivers, whip in hand, came out upon the platform, and +the loafers issued, also, to stand under the eaves and lean their backs +against the drier boards, preparing to eye the travellers with languid +raillery. + +Mr. Parker, very nervous himself, felt the old man's elbow trembling +against his own as the great engine, reeking in the mist, and sending +great clouds of white vapor up to the sky, rushed by them, and came to a +standstill beyond the platform. + +Fisbee and the foreman made haste to the nearest vestibule, and were +gazing blankly at its barred approaches when they heard a tremulous +laugh behind them and an exclamation. + +"Upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber! Just behind you, +dear." + +Turning quickly, Parker beheld a blushing and smiling little vision, +a vision with light-brown hair, a vision enveloped in a light-brown +rain-cloak and with brown gloves, from which the handles of a big brown +travelling bag were let fall, as the vision disappeared under the cotton +umbrella, while the smitten Judd Bennett reeled gasping against the +station. + +"Dearest," the girl cried to the old man, "you were looking for me +between the devil and deep sea--the parlor-car and the smoker. I've +given up cigars, and I've begun to study economy, so I didn't come on +either." + +There was but this one passenger for Plattville; two enormous trunks +thundered out of the baggage car onto the truck, and it was the work of +no more than a minute for Judd to hale them to the top of the omnibus +(he well wished to wear them next his heart, but their dimensions +forbade the thought), and immediately he cracked his whip and drove +off furiously through the mud to deposit his freight at the Briscoes'. +Parker, Mr. Fisbee, and the new editor-in-chief set forth, directly +after, in one of the waiting cut-unders, the foreman in front with the +driver, and holding the big brown bag on his knees in much the same +manner he would have held an alien, yet respected, infant. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. A RESCUE + +The drizzle and mist blew in under the top of the cut-under as they +drove rapidly into town, and bright little drops sparkled on the fair +hair above the new editor's forehead and on the long lashes above the +new editor's cheeks. + +She shook these transient gems off lightly, as she paused in the doorway +of the office at the top of the rickety stairway. Mr. Schofield had just +added the last touch to his decorations and managed to slide into +his coat as the party came up the stairs, and now, perspiring, proud, +embarrassed, he assumed an attitude at once deprecatory of his endeavors +and pointedly expectant of commendation for the results. (He was a +modest youth and a conscious; after his first sight of her, as she stood +in the doorway, it was several days before he could lift his distressed +eyes under her glance, or, indeed, dare to avail himself of more than +a hasty and fluttering stare at her when her back was turned.) As she +entered the room, he sidled along the wall and laughed sheepishly at +nothing. + +Every chair in the room was ornamented with one of his blue rosettes, +tied carefully (and firmly) to the middle slat of each chair-back. There +had been several yards of ribbon left over, and there was a hard knot +of glossy satin on each of the ink-stands and on the door-knobs; a +blue band, passing around the stovepipe, imparted an antique rakishness +suggestive of the charioteer; and a number of streamers, suspended from +a hook in the ceiling, encouraged a supposition that the employees +of the "Herald" contemplated the intricate festivities of May Day. It +needed no genius to infer that these garnitures had not embellished the +editorial chamber during Mr. Harkless's activity, but, on the contrary, +had been put in place that very morning. Mr. Fisbee had not known of +the decorations, and, as his glance fell upon them, a faint look of pain +passed over his brow; but the girl examined the room with a dancing eye, +and there were both tears and laughter in her heart. + +"How beautiful!" she cried. "How beautiful!" She crossed the room and +gave her hand to Ross. "It is Mr. Schofield, isn't it? The ribbons are +delightful. I didn't know Mr. Harkless's room was so pretty." + +Ross looked out of the window and laughed as he took her hand (which he +shook with a long up and down motion), but he was set at better ease +by her apparent unrecognition of the fact that the decorations were for +her. "Oh, it ain't much, I reckon," he replied, and continued to look +out of the window and laugh. + +She went to the desk and removed her gloves and laid her rain-coat over +a chair near by. "Is this Mr. Harkless's chair?" she asked, and, Fisbee +answering that it was, she looked gravely at it for a moment, passed her +hand gently over the back of it, and then, throwing the rain-cloak over +another chair, said cheerily: + +"Do you know, I think the first thing for us to do will be to dust +everything very carefully." + +"You remember I was confident she would know precisely where to begin?" +was Fisbee's earnest whisper in the willing ear of the long foreman. +"Not an instant's indecision, was there?" + +"No, siree!" replied the other; and, as he went down to the press-room +to hunt for a feather-duster which he thought might be found there, +he collared Bud Tipworthy, who, not admitted to the conclave of his +superiors, was whistling on the rainy stairway. "You hustle and find +that dust brush we used to have. Bud," said Parker. And presently, as +they rummaged in the nooks and crannies about the machinery, he melted +to his small assistant. "The paper is saved, Buddie--saved by an angel +in light brown. You can tell it by the look of her." + +"Gee!" said Bud. + +Mr. Schofield had come, blushing, to join them. "Say, Cale, did you +notice the color of her eyes?" + +"Yes; they're gray." + +"I thought so, too, show day, and at Kedge Halloway's lecture; but, say, +Cale, they're kind of changeable. When she come in upstairs with you and +Fisbee, they were jest as blue!--near matched the color of our ribbons." + +"Gee!" repeated Mr. Tipworthy. + +When the editorial chamber had been made so Beat that it almost +glowed--though it could never be expected to shine as did Fisbee and +Caleb Parker and Ross Schofield that morning--the editor took her seat +at the desk and looked over the few items the gentlemen had already +compiled for her perusal. Mr. Parker explained many technicalities +peculiar to the Carlow "Herald," translated some phrases of the +printing-room, and enabled her to grasp the amount of matter needed to +fill the morrow's issue. + +When Parker finished, the three incompetents sat watching the little +figure with the expression of hopeful and trusting terriers. She knit +her brow for a second--but she did not betray an instant's indecision. + +"I think we should have regular market reports," she announced, +thoughtfully. "I am sure Mr. Harkless would approve. Don't you think he +would?" She turned to Parker. + +"Market reports!" Mr. Fisbee exclaimed. "I should never have thought of +market reports, nor, do I imagine, would either of my--my associates. A +woman to conceive the idea of market reports!" + +The editor blushed. "Why, who would, dear, if not a woman, or a +speculator, and I'm not a speculator; and neither are you, and that's +the reason you didn't think of them. So, Mr. Parker, as there is so much +pressure, and if you don't mind continuing to act as reporter as well as +compositor until after to-morrow, and if it isn't too wet--you must take +an umbrella--would it be too much bother if you went around to all the +shops--_stores_, I mean--to all the grocers', and the butchers', and +that leather place we passed, the tannery?--and if there's one of those +places where they bring cows, would it be too much to ask you to +stop there?--and at the flour-mill, if it isn't too far?--and at the +dry-goods store? And you must take a blank-book and sharpened pencil, +And will you price everything, please, and jot down how much things +are?" + +Orders received, the impetuous Parker was departing on the instant, when +she stopped him with a little cry: "But you haven't any umbrella!" +And she forced her own, a slender wand, upon him; it bore a cunningly +wrought handle and its fabric was of glistening silk. The foreman, +unable to decline it, thanked her awkwardly, and, as she turned to +speak to Fisbee, bolted out of the door and ran down the steps without +unfolding the umbrella; and as he made for Mr. Martin's emporium, he +buttoned it securely under his long "Prince Albert," determined that +not a drop of water should touch and ruin so delicate a thing. Thus he +carried it, triumphantly dry, through the course of his reportings of +that day. + +When he had gone the editor laid her hand on Fisbee's arm. "Dear," she +said, "do you think you would take cold if you went over to the +hotel and made a note of all the arrivals for the last week--and the +departures, too? I noticed that Mr. Harkless always filled two or +three--sticks, isn't it?--with them and things about them, and somehow +it 'read' very nicely. You must ask the landlord all about them; and, if +there aren't any, we can take up the same amount of space lamenting +the dull times, just as he used to. You see I've read the 'Herald' +faithfully; isn't it a good thing I always subscribed for it?" She +patted Fisbee's cheek, and laughed gaily into his mild, vague old eyes. + +"It won't be this scramble to 'fill up' much longer. I have plans, +gentlemen," she cried, "and before long we will print news. And we must +buy 'plate matter' instead of 'patent insides'; and I had a talk with +the Associated Press people in Rouen--but that's for afterwhile. And I +went to the hospital this morning before I left. They wouldn't let me +see him again, but they told me all about him, and he's better; and I +got Tom to go to the jail--he was so mystified, he doesn't know what I +wanted it for--and he saw some of those beasts, and I can do a column of +description besides an editorial about them, and I will be fierce enough +to suit Carlow, you may believe that. And I've been talking to Senator +Burns--that is, listening to Senator Burns, which is much stupider--and +I think I can do an article on national politics. I'm not very well up +on local issues yet, but I--" She broke off suddenly. "There! I think we +can get out to-morrow's number without any trouble. By the time you get +back from the hotel, father, I'll have half my stuff written--'written +up,' I mean. Take your big umbrella and go, dear, and please ask at the +express office if my typewriter has come." + +She laughed again with sheer delight, like a child, and ran to the +corner and got the cotton umbrella and placed it in the old man's hand. +As he reached the door, she called after him: "Wait!" and went to him +and knelt before him, and, with the humblest, proudest grace in the +world, turned up his trousers to keep them from the mud. Ross Schofield +had never considered Mr. Fisbee a particularly sacred sort of person, +but he did from that moment. The old man made some timid protest, at his +daughter's action, But she answered; "The great ladies used to buckle +the Chevalier Bayard's spurs for him, and you're a great deal nicer than +the Chev----_You haven't any rubbers_! I don't believe _any_ of you have +any rubbers!" And not until both Fisbee and Mr. Schofield had promised +to purchase overshoes at once, and in the meantime not to step in any +puddles, would she let her father depart upon his errand. He crossed +the Square with the strangest, jauntiest step ever seen in Plattville. +Solomon Tibbs had a warm argument with Miss Selina as to his identity. +Miss Selina maintaining that the figure under the big umbrella--only +the legs and coat-tails were visible to them--was that of a stranger, +probably an Englishman. + +In the "Herald" office the editor turned, smiling, to the paper's +remaining vassal. "Mr. Schofield, I heard some talk in Rouen of an oil +company that had been formed to prospect for kerosene in Carlow County. +Do you know anything about it?" + +Ross, surfeited with honor, terror, and possessed by a sweet distress +at finding himself tete-a-tete with the lady, looked at the wall and +replied: + +"Oh, it's that Eph Watts's foolishness." + +"Do you know if they have begun to dig for it yet?" + +"Ma'am?" said Ross. + +"Have they begun the diggings yet?" + +"No, ma'am; I think not. They've got a contrapshun fixed up about three +mile south. I don't reckon they've begun yet, hardly; they're gittin' +the machinery in place. I heard Eph say they'd begin to bore--_dig_, I +mean, ma'am, I meant to say dig----" He stopped, utterly confused +and unhappy; and she understood his manly purpose, and knew him for a +gentleman whom she liked. + +"You mustn't be too much surprised," she said; "but in spite of my +ignorance about such things, I mean to devote a good deal of space to +the oil company; it may come to be of great importance to Carlow. We +won't go into it in to-morrow's paper, beyond an item or so; but do you +think you could possibly find Mr. Watts and ask him for some information +as to their progress, and if it would be too much trouble for him to +call here some time to-morrow afternoon, or the day after? I want him to +give me an interview if he will. Tell him, please, he will very greatly +oblige us." + +"Oh, he'll come all right," answered her companion, quickly. "I'll +take Tibbs's buggy and go down there right off. Eph won't lose no time +gittin' _here_!" And with this encouraging assurance he was flying +forth, when he, like the others, was detained by her solicitous care. +She was a born mother. He protested that in the buggy he would be +perfectly sheltered; besides, there wasn't another umbrella about the +place; he _liked_ to get wet, anyway; had always loved rain. The end +of it was that he went away in a sort of tremor, wearing her rain-cloak +over his shoulders, which garment, as it covered its owner completely +when she wore it, hung almost to his knees. He darted around a corner; +and there, breathing deeply, tenderly removed it; then, borrowing paper +and cord at a neighboring store, wrapped it neatly, and stole back to +the printing-office on the ground floor of the "Herald" building, and +left the package in charge of Bud Tipworthy, mysteriously charging him +to care for it as for his own life, and not to open it, but if the lady +so much as set one foot out of doors before his return, to hand it to +her with the message: "He borrowed another off J. Hankins." + +Left alone, the lady went to the desk and stood for a time looking +gravely at Harkless's chair. She touched it gently, as she had touched +it once before that morning, and then she spoke to it as if he were +sitting there, and as she would not have spoken, had he been sitting +there. + +"You didn't want gratitude, did you?" she whispered, with sad lips. + +Soon she smiled at the blue ribbons, patted the chair gaily on the back, +and, seizing upon pencil and pad, dashed into her work with rare energy. +She bent low over the desk, her pencil moving rapidly, and, except for +a momentary interruption from Mr. Tipworthy, she seemed not to pause for +breath; certainly her pencil did not. She had covered many sheets when +her father returned; and, as he came in softly, not to disturb her, she +was so deeply engrossed she did not hear him; nor did she look up when +Parker entered, but pursued the formulation of her fast-flying ideas +with the same single purpose and abandon; so the two men sat and waited +while their chieftainess wrote absorbedly. At last she glanced up and +made a little startled exclamation at seeing them there, and then gave +them cheery greeting. Each placed several scribbled sheets before +her, and she, having first assured herself that Fisbee had bought his +overshoes, and having expressed a fear that Mr. Parker had found her +umbrella too small, as he looked damp (and indeed he _was_ damp), cried +praises on their notes and offered the reporters great applause. + +"It is all so splendid!" she cried. "How could you do it so quickly? And +in the rain, too! This is exactly what we need. I've done most of +the things I mentioned, I think, and made a draught of some plans for +hereafter. And about that man's coming out for Congress, I must tell you +it is my greatest hope that he will. We can let it go until he does, and +then----But doesn't it seem to you that it would be a good notion for +the 'Herald' to have a woman's page--'For Feminine Readers,' or, 'Of +Interest to Women'--once a week?" + +"A woman's page!" exclaimed Fisbee. "I could never have thought of that, +could you, Mr. Parker?" + +"And now," she continued, "I think that when I've gone over what I've +written and beat it into better shape I shall be ready for something to +eat. Isn't it almost time for luncheon?" + +This simple, and surely natural, inquiry had a singular, devastating +effect upon her hearers. They looked upon each other with fallen jaws +and complete stupefaction. The old man began to grow pale, and Parker +glared about him with a wild eye. Fortunately, the editor was too busy +at her work to notice their agitation; she applied herself to making +alterations here and there, sometimes frowningly crossing out whole +lines and even paragraphs, sometimes smiling and beaming at the writing; +and, as she bent earnestly over the paper, against the darkness of the +rainy day, the glamour about her fair hair was like a light in the +room. To the minds of her two companions, this lustre was a gentle but +unbearable accusation; and each dreaded the moment when her Work +should be finished, with a great dread. There was a small "store-room" +adjoining the office, and presently Mr. Parker, sweating at the brow, +walked in there. The old man gave him a look of despairing reproach, but +in a moment the foreman's voice was heard: "Oh, Mr. Fisbee, can you step +here a second?" + +"Yes, indeed!" was Fisbee's reply; and he fled guiltily into the +"store-room," and Parker closed the door. They stood knee-deep in the +clutter and lumber, facing each other abjectly. + +"Well, we're both done, anyway, Mr. Fisbee," remarked the foreman. + +"Indubitably, Mr. Parker," the old man answered; "it is too true." + +"Never to think a blame thing about dinner for her!" Parker continued, +remorsefully. "And her a lady that can turn off copy like a rotary +snowplough in a Dakota blizzard! Did you see the sheets she's piled up +on that desk?" + +"There is no cafe--nothing--in Plattville, that could prepare food +worthy of her," groaned Fisbee. "Nothing!" + +"And we never thought of it. Never made a single arrangement. Never +struck us she didn't live on keeping us dry and being good, I guess." + +"How can I go there and tell her that?" + +"Lord!" + +"She cannot go to the hotel----" + +"Well, I guess not! It ain't fit for her. Lum's table is hard enough +on a strong man. Landis doesn't know a good cake from a Fiji missionary +pudding. I don't expect pie is much her style, and, besides, the Palace +Hotel pies--well!--the boss was a mighty uncomplaining man, but I +used to notice his articles on field drainage got kind of sour and +low-spirited when they'd been having more than the regular allowance of +pie for dinner. She can't go there anyway; it's no use; it's after two +o'clock, and the dining-room shuts off at one. I wonder what kind of +cake she likes best." + +"I don't know," said the perplexed Fisbee. "If we ask her--" + +"If we could sort of get it out of her diplomatically, we could +telegraph to Rouen for a good one." + +"Ha!" said the other, brightening up. "You try it, Mr. Parker. I fear I +have not much skill in diplomacy, but if you----" + +The compositor's mouth drooped at the corners, and he interrupted +gloomily: "But it wouldn't get here till to-morrow." + +"True; it would not." + +They fell into a despondent reverie, with their chins in their bosoms. +There came a cheerful voice from the next room, but to them it brought +no cheer; in their ears it sounded weak from the need of food and faint +with piteous reproach. + +"Father, aren't you coming to have luncheon with me?" + +"Mr. Parker, what are we to do?" whispered the old man, hoarsely. + +"Is it too far to take her to Briscoes'?" + +"In the rain?" + +"Take her with you to Tibbs's." + +"Their noon meal is long since over; and their larder is not--is +not--extensive." + +"Father!" called the girl. She was stirring; they could hear her moving +about the room. + +"You've got to go in and tell her," said the foreman, desperately, and +together they stumbled into the room. A small table at one end of it was +laid with a snowy cloth and there was a fragrance of tea, and, amidst +various dainties, one caught a glimpse of cold chicken and lettuce +leaves. Fisbee stopped, dumfounded, but the foreman, after stammeringly +declining an invitation to partake, alleging that his own meal awaited, +sped down to the printing-room, and seized upon Bud Tipworthy with a +heavy hand. + +"Where did all that come from, up there?" + +"Leave go me! _What_ 'all that'?" + +"All that tea and chicken and salad and wafers--all kinds of things; +sardines, for all I know!" + +"They come in Briscoes' buckboard while you was gone. Briscoes sent 'em +in a basket; I took 'em up and she set the basket under the table. You'd +seen it if you'd 'a' looked. _Quit_ that!" And it was unjust to cuff the +perfectly innocent and mystified Bud, and worse not to tell him what the +punishment was for. + +Before the day was over, system had been introduced, and the "Herald" +was running on it: and all that warm, rainy afternoon, the editor and +Fisbee worked in the editorial rooms, Parker and Bud and Mr. Schofield +(after his return with the items and a courteous message from Ephraim +Watts) bent over the forms downstairs, and Uncle Xenophon was cleaning +the store-room and scrubbing the floor. + +An extraordinary number of errands took the various members of the +printing force up to see the editor-in-chief, literally to see the +editor-in-chief; it was hard to believe that the presence had not +flown--hard to keep believing, without the repeated testimony of sight, +that the dingy room upstairs was actually the setting for their jewel; +and a jewel they swore she was. The printers came down chuckling and +gurgling after each interview; it was partly the thought that she +belonged to the "Herald," _their_ paper. Once Ross, as he cut down one +of the temporarily distended advertisements, looked up and caught the +foreman giggling to himself. + +"What in the name of common-sense you laughin' at, Cale?" he asked. + +"What are _you_ laughing at?" rejoined the other. + +"I dunno!" + +The day wore on, wet and dreary outside, but all within the "Herald's" +bosom was snug and busy and murmurous with the healthy thrum of life +and prosperity renewed. Toward six o'clock, system accomplished, the new +guiding-spirit was deliberating on a policy as Harkless would conceive +a policy, were he there, when Minnie Briscoe ran joyously up the stairs, +plunged into the room, waterproofed and radiant, and caught her friend +in her eager arms, and put an end to policy for that day. + +But policy and labor did not end at twilight every day; there were +evenings, as in the time of Harkless, when lamps shone from the upper +windows of the "Herald" building. For the little editor worked hard, +and sometimes she worked late; she always worked early. She made some +mistakes at first, and one or two blunders which she took more seriously +than any one else did. But she found a remedy for all such results of +her inexperience, and she developed experience. She set at her task with +the energy of her youthfulness and no limit to her ambition, and she +felt that Harkless had prepared the way for a wide expansion of the +paper's interests; wider than he knew. She had a belief that there were +possibilities for a country newspaper, and she brought a fresh point of +view to operate in a situation where Harkless had fallen, perhaps, too +much in the rut; and she watched every chance with a keen eye and looked +ahead of her with clear foresight. What she waited and yearned for and +dreaded, was the time when a copy of the new "Herald" should be placed +in the trembling hands of the man who lay in the Rouen hospital. Then, +she felt, if he, unaware of her identity, should place everything in her +hands unreservedly, that would be a tribute to her work--and how hard +she would labor to deserve it! After a time, she began to realize that, +as his representative and the editor of the "Herald," she had become +a factor in district politics. It took her breath--but with a gasp of +delight, for there was something she wanted to do. + +Above all, she brought a light heart to her work. One evening in the +latter part of that first week of the new regime, Parker perceived Bud +Tipworthy standing in the doorway of the printing-room, beckoning him +silently to come without. + +"What's the matter, Buddie?" + +"Listen. She's singin' over her work." + +Parker stepped outside. On the pavement, people had stopped to listen; +they stood in the shadow, looking up with parted lips at the open, +lighted Windows, whence came a clear, soft, reaching voice, lifted in +song; now it swelled louder, unconsciously; now its volume was more +slender and it melted liquidly into the night; again, it trembled and +rose and dwelt in the ear, strong and pure; and, hearing it, you sighed +with unknown longings. It was the "Angels' Serenade." + +Bud Tipworthy's sister, Cynthia, was with him, and Parker saw that she +turned from the window and that she was crying, quietly; she put her +hand on the boy's shoulder and patted it with a forlorn gesture which, +to the foreman's eye, was as graceful as it was sad. He moved closer to +Bud and his big hand fell on Cynthia's brother's other shoulder, as he +realized that red hair could look pretty sometimes; and he wondered why +the editor's singing made Cynthy cry; and at the same time he decided +to be mighty good to Bud henceforth. The spell of night and song was +on him; that and something more; for it is a strange, inexplicable +fact that the most practical chief ever known to the "Herald" had a +singularly sentimental influence over her subordinates, from the moment +of her arrival. Under Harkless's domination there had been no more +steadfast bachelors in Carlow than Ross Schofield and Caleb Parker, and, +like timorous youths in a graveyard, daring and mocking the ghosts in +order to assuage their own fears, they had so jibed and jeered at the +married state that there was talk of urging the minister to preach at +them; but now let it be recorded that at the moment Caleb laid his hand +on Bud's other shoulder, his associate, Mr. Schofield, was enjoying a +walk in the far end of town with a widow, and it is not to be doubted +that Mr. Tipworthy's heart, also, was no longer in his possession, +though, as it was after eight o'clock, the damsel of his desire had +probably long since retired to her couch. + +For some faint light on the cause of these spells, we must turn to a +comment made by the invaluable Mr. Martin some time afterward. Referring +to the lady to whose voice he was now listening in silence (which shows +how great the enthralling of her voice was), he said: "When you saw her, +or heard her, or managed to be around, any, where she was, why, if +you couldn't git up no hope of marryin' _her_, you wanted to marry +_somebody_." + +Mr. Lige Willetts, riding idly by, drew rein in front of the lighted +windows, and listened with the others. Presently he leaned from his +horse and whispered to a man near him: + +"I know that song." + +"Do you?" whispered the other. + +"Yes; he and I heard her sing it, the night he was shot." + +"So!" + +"Yes, sir. It's by Beethoven." + +"Is it?" + +"It's a seraphic song," continued Lige. + +"No!" exclaimed his friend; then, shaking his head, he sighed: "Well, +it's mighty sweet." + +The song was suddenly woven into laughter in the unseen chamber, and the +lights in the windows went out, and a small lady and a tall lady and +a thin old man, all three laughing and talking happily, came down and +drove off in the Briscoe buckboard. The little crowd dispersed quietly; +Lige Willetts plucked to his horse and cantered away to overtake the +buckboard; William Todd took his courage between his teeth, and, the +song ringing in his ears, made a desperate resolve to call upon Miss +Bardlock that evening, in spite of its being a week day, and Caleb +Parker gently and stammeringly asked Cynthia if she would wait till he +shut up the shop, and let him walk home with her and Bud. + +Soon the Square was quiet as before, and there was naught but peace +under the big stars of July. + +That day the news had come that Harkless, after weeks of alternate +improvement and relapse, hazardously lingering in the borderland of +shadows, had passed the crucial point and was convalescent. His recovery +was assured. But from their first word of him, from the message that he +was found and was alive, none of the people of Carlow had really doubted +it. They are simple country people, and they know that God is good. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. NETTLES + +Two men who have been comrades and classmates at the Alma Mater of John +Harkless and Tom Meredith; two who have belonged to the same dub and +roomed in the same entry; who have pooled their clothes and money in +a common stock for either to draw on; who have shared the fortunes +of athletic war, triumphing together, sometimes with an intense +triumphancy; two men who were once boys getting hazed together, hazing +in no unkindly fashion in their turn, always helping each other to stuff +brains the night before an examination and to blow away the suffocating +statistics like foam the night after; singing, wrestling, dancing, +laughing, succeeding together, through the four kindest years of life; +two such brave companions, meeting in the after years, are touchingly +tender and caressive of each other, but the tenderness takes the shy, +United States form of insulting epithets, and the caresses are blows. If +John Harkless had been in health, uninjured and prosperous, Tom Meredith +could no more have thrown himself on his knees beside him and called him +"old friend" than he could have danced on the slack-wire. + +One day they thought the patient sleeping; the nurse fanned him softly, +and Meredith had stolen in and was sitting by the cot. One of Harkless's +eyes had been freed of the bandage, and, when Tom came in, it was +closed; but, by and by, Meredith became aware that the unbandaged eye +had opened and that it was suffused with a pathetic moisture; yet it +twinkled with a comprehending light, and John knew that it was his old +Tom Meredith who was sitting beside him, with the air of having sat +there very often before. But this bald, middle-aged young man, not +without elegance, yet a prosperous burgher for all that--was _this_ the +slim, rollicking broth of a boy whose thick auburn hair used to make one +streak of flame as he spun around the bases on a home run? Without doubt +it was the stupendous fact, wrought by the alchemy of seven years. + +For, though seven years be a mere breath in the memories of the old, it +is a long transfiguration to him whose first youth is passing, and who +finds unsolicited additions accruing to some parts of his being and +strange deprivations in others, and upon whom the unhappy realization +begins to be borne in, that his is no particular case, and that he +of all the world is not to be spared, but, like his forbears, must +inevitably wriggle in the disguising crucible of time. And, though men +accept it with apparently patient humor, the first realization that +people do grow old, and that they do it before they have had time to be +young, is apt to come like a shock. + +Perhaps not even in the interminable months of Carlow had Harkless +realized the length of seven years so keenly as he did when he beheld +his old friend at his bedside. How men may be warped apart in seven +years, especially in the seven years between twenty-three and thirty! At +the latter age you may return to the inseparable of seven years before +and speak not the same language; you find no heartiness to carry on with +each other after half an hour. Not so these classmates, who had known +each other to the bone. + +Ah, yes, it was Tom Meredith, the same lad, in spite of his masquerade +of flesh; and Helen was right: Tom had not forgotten. + +"It's the old horse-thief!" John murmured, tremulously. + +"You go plumb to thunder," answered Meredith between gulps. + + +When he was well enough, they had long talks; and at other times +Harkless lay by the window, and breathed deep of the fresh air, while +Meredith attended to his correspondence for him, and read the papers +to him. But there was one phenomenon of literature the convalescent +insisted upon observing for himself, and which he went over again and +again, to the detriment of his single unswathed eye, and this was the +Carlow "Herald." + +The first letter he had read to him was one from Fisbee stating that the +crippled forces left in charge had found themselves almost distraught in +their efforts to carry on the paper (as their chief might conclude for +himself on perusal of the issues of the first fortnight of his absence), +and they had made bold to avail themselves of the services of a young +relative of the writer's from a distant city--a capable journalist, +who had no other employment for the present, and who had accepted the +responsibilities of the "Herald" temporarily. There followed a note from +Parker, announcing that Mr. Fisbee's relative was a bird, and was the +kind to make the "Herald" hum. They hoped Mr. Harkless would approve +of their bespeaking the new hand on the sheet; the paper must have +suspended otherwise. Harkless, almost overcome by his surprise that +Fisbee possessed a relative, dictated a hearty and grateful indorsement +of their action, and, soon after, received a typewritten rejoinder, +somewhat complicated in the reading, because of the numerous type +errors and their corrections. The missive was signed "H. Fisbee," in +a strapping masculine hand that suggested six feet of enterprise and +muscle spattering ink on its shirt sleeves. + +John groaned and fretted over the writhings of the "Herald's" headless +fortnight, but, perusing the issues produced under the domination of H. +Fisbee, he started now and then, and chuckled at some shrewd felicities +of management, or stared, puzzled, over an oddity, but came to a feeling +of vast relief; and, when the question of H. Fisbee's salary was settled +and the tenancy assured, he sank into a repose of mind. H. Fisbee might +be an eccentric fellow, but he knew his business, and, apparently, +he knew something of other business as well, for he wrote at length +concerning the Carlow oil fields, urging Harkless to take shares in Mr. +Watts's company while the stock was very low, two wells having been +sunk without satisfactory results. H. Fisbee explained with exceeding +technicality his reasons for believing that the third well would strike +oil. + +But with his ease of mind regarding the "Herald," Harkless found himself +possessed by apathy. He fretted no longer to get back to Plattville. +With the prospect of return it seemed an emptiness glared at him from +hollow sockets, and the thought of the dreary routine he must follow +when he went back gave him the same faint nausea he had felt the evening +after the circus. And, though it was partly the long sweat of anguish +which had benumbed him, his apathy was pierced, at times, by a bodily +horror of the scene of his struggle. At night he faced the grotesque +masks of the Cross-Roads men and the brutal odds again; over and over +he felt the blows, and clapped his hand to where the close fire of Bob +Skillett's pistol burned his body. + +And, except for the release from pain, he rejoiced less and less in +his recovery. He remembered a tedious sickness of his childhood and +how beautiful he had thought the world, when he began to get well, how +electric the open air blowing in at the window, how green the smile of +earth, and how glorious to live and see the open day again. He had none +of that feeling now. No pretty vision came again near his bed, and he +beheld his convalescence as a mistake. He had come to a jumping-off +place in his life--why had they not let him jump? What was there left +but the weary plod, plod, and dust of years? + +He could have gone back to Carlow in better spirit if it had not been +for the few dazzling hours of companionship which had transformed it to +a paradise, but, gone, left a desert. She, by the sight of her, had made +him wish to live, and now, that he saw her no more, she made him wish +to die. How little she had cared for him, since she told him she did +not care, when he had not meant to ask her. He was weary, and at last he +longed to find the line of least resistance and follow it; he had done +hard things for a long time, but now he wanted to do something easy. +Under the new genius--who was already urging that the paper should +be made a daily--the "Herald" could get along without him; and the +"White-Caps" would bother Carlow no longer; and he thought that Kedge +Halloway, an honest man, if a dull one, was sure to be renominated for +Congress at the district convention which was to meet at Plattville in +September--these were his responsibilities, and they did not fret him. +Everything was all right. There was only one thought which thrilled him: +his impression that she had come to the hospital to see him was not a +delusion; she had really been there--as a humane, Christian person, +he said to himself. One day he told Meredith of his vision, and Tom +explained that it was no conjuration of fever. + +"But I thought she'd gone abroad," said Harkless, staring. + +"They had planned to," answered his friend. "They gave it up for some +reason. Uncle Henry decided that he wasn't strong enough for the trip, +or something." + +"Then--is she--is she here?" + +"No; Helen is never here in summer. When she came back from Plattville, +she went north, somewhere, to join people she had promised, I think." +Meredith had as yet no inkling or suspicion that his adopted cousin had +returned to Plattville. What he told Harkless was what his aunt had told +him, and he accepted it as the truth. + +Mrs. Sherwood (for she was both Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood) had always +considered Fisbee an enigmatic rascal, and she regarded Helen's +defection to him in the light of a family scandal to be hushed up, as +well as a scalding pain to be borne. Some day the unkind girl-errant +would "return to her wisdom and her duty"; meanwhile, the less known +about it the better. + +Meredith talked very little to Harkless of his cousin, beyond lightly +commenting on the pleasure and oddity of their meeting, and telling +him of her friendly anxiety about his recovery; he said she had perfect +confidence from the first that he would recover. Harkless had said a +word or two in his delirium and a word or two out of it, and these, +with once a sudden brow of suffering, and a difference Meredith felt in +Helen's manner when they stood together by the sick man's bedside, had +given the young man a strong impression, partly intuitive, that in spite +of the short time the two had known each other, something had happened +between them at Plattville, and he ventured a guess which was not far +from the truth. Altogether, the thing was fairly plain--a sad lover +is not so hard to read--and Meredith was sorry, for they were the two +people he liked best on earth. + +The young man carried his gay presence daily to the hospital, where +Harkless now lay in a pleasant room of his own, and he tried to keep +his friend cheery, which was an easy matter on the surface, for the +journalist turned ever a mask of jokes upon him; but it was not hard +for one who liked him as Meredith did to see through to the melancholy +underneath. After his one reference to Helen, John was entirely silent +of her, and Meredith came to feel that both would be embarrassed if +occasion should rise and even her name again be mentioned between them. + +He did not speak of his family connection with Mr. Fisbee to the +invalid, for, although the connection was distant, the old man was, in a +way, the family skeleton, and Meredith had a strong sense of the decency +of reserve in such a matter. There was one thing Fisbee's shame had made +the old man unable not to suppress when he told Parker his story; the +wraith of a torrid palate had pursued him from his youth, and the days +of drink and despair from which Harkless had saved him were not the +first in his life. Meredith wondered as much as did Harkless where +Fisbee had picked up the journalistic "young relative" who signed his +extremely business-like missives in such a thundering hand. It was +evident that the old man was grateful to his patron, but it did not +occur to Meredith that Fisbee's daughter might have an even stronger +sense of gratitude, one so strong that she could give all her young +strength to work for the man who had been good to her father. + +There came a day in August when Meredith took the convalescent from the +hospital in a victoria, and installed him in his own home. Harkless's +clothes hung on his big frame limply; however, there was a drift of +light in his eyes as they drove slowly through the pretty streets of +Rouen. The bandages and splints and drugs and swathings were all gone +now, and his sole task was to gather strength. The thin face was sallow +no longer; it was the color of evening shadows; indeed he lay among the +cushions seemingly no more than a gaunt shadow of the late afternoon, +looking old and gray and weary. They rolled along abusing each other, +John sometimes gratefully threatening his friend with violence. + +The victoria passed a stone house with wide lawns and an inhospitable +air of wealth and importunate rank; over the sward two peacocks swung, +ambulating like caravals in a green sea; and one expected a fine lady to +come smiling and glittering from the door. Oddly enough, though he +had never seen the place before, it struck Harkless with a sense of +familiarity. "Who lives there?" he asked abruptly. + +"Who lives there? On the left? Why that--that is the Sherwood place," +Meredith answered, in a tone which sounded as if he were not quite sure +of it, but inclined to think his information correct. Harkless relapsed +into silence. + +Meredith's home was a few blocks further up the same street; a capacious +house in the Western fashion of the Seventies. In front, on the lawn, +there was a fountain with a leaping play of water; maples and shrubbery +were everywhere; and here and there stood a stiff sentinel of Lombardy +poplar. It was all cool and incongruous and comfortable; and, on the +porch, sheltered from publicity by a multitude of palms and flowering +plants, a white-jacketed negro appeared with a noble smile and a more +important tray, whereon tinkled bedewed glasses and a crystal pitcher, +against whose sides the ice clinked sweetly. There was a complement of +straws. + +When they had helped him to an easy chair on the porch, Harkless +whistled luxuriously. "Ah, my bachelor!" he exclaimed, as he selected a +straw. + +"'Who would fardels bear?'" rejoined Mr. Meredith. Then came to the +other a recollection of an auburn-haired ball player on whom the third +strike had once been called while his eyes wandered tenderly to the +grandstand, where the prettiest girl of that commencement week was +sitting. + +"Have you forgot the 'Indian Princess'?" he asked. + +"You're a dull old person," Tom laughed. "Haven't you discovered that +'tis they who forget us? And why shouldn't they? Do _we_ remember +well?--anybody except just us two, I mean, of course." + +"I've a notion we do, sometimes." + +The other set his glass on the tray, and lit his cigarette. "Yes; when +we're unsuccessful. Then I think we do." + +"That may be true." + +"Of course it is. If a lady wishes to make an impression on me that is +worth making, let her let me make none on her." + +"You think it is always our vanity?" + +"Analyze it as your revered Thomas does and you shall reach the same +conclusion. Let a girl reject you and--" Meredith broke off, cursing +himself inwardly, and, rising, cried gaily: "What profiteth it a man +if he gain the whole wisdom in regard to women and loseth not his own +heart? And neither of us is lacking a heart--though it may be; one can't +tell, one's self; one has to find out about that from some girl. At +least, I'm rather sure of mine; it's difficult to give a tobacco-heart +away; it's drugged on the market. I'm going to bring out the dogs; I'm +spending the summer at home just to give them daily exercise." + +This explanation of his continued presence in Rouen struck John as +quite as plausible as Meredith's more seriously alleged reasons for not +joining his mother and sister, at Winter Harbor. (He possessed a mother, +and, as he explained, he had also sisters to satiety, in point of +numbers.) Harkless knew that Tom had stayed to look after him; and he +thought there never was so poor a peg as himself whereon to hang +the warm mantle of such a friendship. He knew that other mantles of +affection and kindliness hung on that self-same peg, for he had been +moved by the letters and visits from Carlow people, and he had heard +the story of their descent upon the hospital, and of the march on the +Cross-Roads. Many a good fellow, too, had come to see him during his +better days--from Judge Briscoe, openly tender and solicitous, to the +embarrassed William Todd, who fiddled at his hat and explained that, +being as he was in town on business (a palpable fiction) he thought he'd +look in to see if "they was any word would wish to be sent down to our +city." The good will the sick man had from every one touched him, and +made him feel unworthy, and he could see nothing he had done to deserve +it. Mr. Meredith could (and would not--openly, at least) have explained +to him that it made not a great deal of difference what he did; it was +what people thought he was. + +His host helped him upstairs after dinner, and showed him the room +prepared for his occupancy. Harkless sank, sighing with weakness, into a +deep chair, and Meredith went to a window-seat and stretched himself out +for a smoke and chat. + +"Doesn't it beat your time," he said, cheerily, "to think of what's +become of all the old boys? They turn up so differently from what we +expected, when they turn up at all. We sized them up all right so far +as character goes, I fancy, but we couldn't size up the chances of +life. Take poor old Pickle Haines: who'd have dreamed Pickle would shoot +himself over a bankruptcy? I dare say that wasn't all of it--might have +been cherchez la femme, don't you think? What do you make of Pickle's +case, John?" + +There was no answer. Harkless's chair was directly in front of the +mantel-piece, and upon the carved wooden shelf, amongst tobacco-jars +and little curios, cotillion favors and the like, there were scattered +a number of photographs. One of these was that of a girl who looked +straight out at you from a filigree frame; there was hardly a corner +of the room where you could have stood without her clear, serious eyes +seeming to rest upon yours. + +"Cherchez la femme?" repeated Tom, puffing unconsciously. "Pickle was +a good fellow, but he had the deuce of an eye for a girl. Do you +remember--" He stopped short, and saw the man and the photograph looking +at each other. Too late, he unhappily remembered that he had meant, and +forgotten, to take that photograph out of the room before he brought +Harkless in. Now he would have to leave it; and Helen Sherwood was not +the sort of girl, even in a flat presentment, to be continually thrown +in the face of a man who had lost her. And it always went hard, Tom +reflected, with men who stretched vain hands to Helen, only to lose her. +But there was one, he thought, whose outstretched hands might not prove +so vain. Why couldn't she have cared for John Harkless? Deuce take +the girl, did she want to marry an emperor? He looked at Harkless, and +pitied him with an almost tearful compassion. A feverish color dwelt in +the convalescent's cheek; the apathy that had dulled his eyes was there +no longer; instead, they burned with a steady fire. The image returned +his unwavering gaze with inscrutable kindness. + +"You heard that Pickle shot himself, didn't you?" Meredith asked. There +was no answer; John did not hear him. + +"Do you know that poor Jeny Haines killed himself, last March?" Tom said +sharply. + +There was only silence in the room. Meredith got up and rattled some +tongs in the empty fireplace, but the other did not move or notice him +in any way. + +Meredith set the tongs down, and went quietly out of the room, leaving +his friend to that mysterious interview. + +When he came back, after a remorseful cigarette in the yard, Harkless +was still sitting, motionless, looking up at the photograph above the +mantel-piece. + + + +They drove abroad every day, at first in the victoria, and, as +Harkless's strength began to come back, in a knock-about cart of Tom's, +a light trail of blue smoke floating back wherever the two friends +passed. And though the country editor grew stronger in the pleasant, +open city, Meredith felt that his apathy and listlessness only deepened, +and he suspected that, in Harkless's own room, where the photograph +reigned, the languor departed for the time, making way for a destructive +fire. Judge Briscoe, paying a second visit to Rouen, told Tom, in an +aside, that their friend did not seem to be the same man. He was altered +and aged beyond belief, the old gentleman whispered sadly. + +Meredith decided that his guest needed enlivening--something to take him +out of himself; he must be stirred up to rub against people once more. +And therefore, one night he made a little company for him: two or three +apparently betrothed very young couples, for whom it was rather dull, +after they had looked their fill of Harkless (it appeared that every one +was curious to see him); and three or four married young couples, for +whom the entertainment seemed rather diverting in an absent-minded way +(they had the air of remembering that they had forgotten the baby); and +three or four bachelors, who seemed contented in any place where they +were allowed to smoke; and one widower, whose manner indicated that any +occasion whatever was gay enough for him; and four or five young women, +who (Meredith explained to John) were of their host's age, and had been +"left over" out of the set he grew up with; and for these the modest +party took on a hilarious and chipper character. "It is these girls that +have let the men go by because they didn't see any good enough; they're +the jolly souls!" the one widower remarked, confidentially. "They've +been at it a long while, and they know how, and they're light-hearted as +robins. They have more fun than people who have responsibilities." + +All of these lively demoiselles fluttered about Harkless with +commiserative pleasantries, and, in spite of his protestations, made +him recline in the biggest and deepest chair on the porch, where they +surfeited him with kindness and grouped about him with extra cushions +and tenderness for a man who had been injured. No one mentioned the fact +that he had been hurt; it was not spoken of, though they wished mightily +he would tell them the story they had read luridly in the public prints. +They were very good to him. One of them, in particular, a handsome, +dark, kind-eyed girl, constituted herself at once his cicerone in Rouen +gossip and his waiting-maid. She sat by him, and saw that his needs (and +his not-needs, too) were supplied and oversupplied; she could not let +him move, and anticipated his least wish, though he was now amply able +to help himself; and she fanned him as if he were a dying consumptive. + +They sat on Meredith's big porch in the late twilight and ate a +substantial refection, and when this was finished, a buzz of nonsense +rose from all quarters, except the remote corners where the youthful +affianced ones had defensively stationed themselves behind a rampart of +plants. They, having eaten, had naught to do, and were only waiting +a decent hour for departure. Laughing voices passed up and down the +street, and mingled with the rhythmic plashing of Meredith's fountain, +and, beyond the shrubberies and fence, one caught glimpses of the light +dresses of women moving to and fro, and of people sitting bareheaded on +neighboring lawns to enjoy the twilight. Now and then would pass, with +pipe and dog, the beflanneled figure of an undergraduate, home for +vacation, or a trio of youths in knickerbockers, or a band of young +girls, or both trio and band together; and from a cross street, near by, +came the calls and laughter of romping children and the pulsating +whirr of a lawn-mower: This sound Harkless remarked as a ceaseless +accompaniment to life in Rouen; even in the middle of the night there +was always some unfortunate, cutting grass. + +When the daylight was all gone, and the stars had crept out, strolling +negroes patrolled the sidewalks, thrumming mandolins and guitars, and +others came and went, singing, making the night Venetian. The untrained, +joyous voices, chording eerily in their sweet, racial minors, came on +the air, sometimes from far away. But there swung out a chorus from +fresh, Aryan throats, in the house south of Meredith's: + + "Where, oh where, are the grave old Seniors? + Safe, now, in the wide, wide world!" + +"Doesn't that thrill you, boy?" said Meredith, joining the group about +Harkless's chair. "Those fellows are Sophomores, class of heaven knows +what. _Aren't_ you feeling a fossil. Father Abraham?" + +A banjo chattered on the lawn to the north, and soon a mixed chorus of +girls and boys sang from there: + + "O, 'Arriet, I'm waiting, waiting alone out 'ere." + +Then a piano across the street sounded the dearthful harmonies of +Chopin's Funeral March. + +"You may take your choice," remarked Meredith, flicking a spark over the +rail in the ash of his cigar, "Chopping or Chevalier." + +"Chopin, my friend," said the lady who had attached herself to +Harkless. She tapped Tom's shoulder with her fan and smiled, graciously +corrective. + +"Thank you, Miss Hinsdale," he answered, gratefully. "And as I, perhaps, +had better say, since otherwise there might be a pause and I am the +host, we have a wide selection. In addition to what is provided at +present, I predict that within the next ten minutes a talented girl who +lives two doors south will favor us with the Pilgrims' Chorus, piano +arrangement, break down in the middle, and drift, into 'Rastus on +Parade,' while a double quartette of middle-aged colored gentlemen under +our Jim will make choral offering in our own back yard." + +"My dear Tom," exclaimed Miss Hinsdale, "you forget Wetherford Swift!" + +"I could stand it all," put forth the widower, "if it were not for +Wetherford Swift." + +"When is Miss Sherwood coming home?" asked one of the ladies. "Why does +she stay away and leave him to his sufferings?" + +"Us to his sufferings," substituted a bachelor. "He is just beginning; +listen." + +Through all the other sounds of music, there penetrated from an unseen +source, a sawish, scraped, vibration of catgut, pathetic, insistent, +painstaking, and painful beyond belief. + +"He is in a terrible way to-night," said the widower. + +Miss Hinsdale laughed. "Worse every night. The violinist is young +Wetherford Swift," she explained to Harkless. "He is very much in love, +and it doesn't agree with him. He used to be such a pleasant boy, +but last winter he went quite mad over Helen Sherwood, Mr. Meredith's +cousin, our beauty, you know--I am so sorry she isn't here; you'd be +interested in meeting her, I'm sure--and he took up the violin." + +"It is said that his family took up chloroform at the same time," said +the widower. + +"His music is a barometer," continued the lady, "and by it the +neighborhood nightly observes whether Miss Sherwood has been nice to him +or not." + +"It is always exceedingly plaintive," explained another. + +"Except once," rejoined Miss Hinsdale. "He played jigs when she came +home from somewhere or other, in June." + +"It was Tosti's 'Let Me Die,' the very next evening," remarked the +widower. + +"Ah," said one of the bachelors, "but his joy was sadder for us than his +misery. Hear him now." + +"I think he means it for 'What's this dull town to me,'" observed +another, with some rancor. "I would willingly make the town sufficiently +exciting for him--" + +"If there were not an ordinance against the hurling of missiles," +finished the widower. + +The piano executing the funeral march ceased to execute, discomfited by +the persistent and overpowering violin; the banjo and the coster-songs +were given over; even the collegians' music was defeated; and the +neighborhood was forced to listen to the dauntless fiddle, but not +without protest, for there came an indignant, spoken chorus from the +quarter whence the college songs had issued: "Ya-a-ay! Wetherford, put +it away! _She'll_ come back!" The violin played on. + +"We all know each other here, you see, Mr. Harkless," Miss Hinsdale +smiled benignantly. + +"They didn't bother Mr. Wetherford Swift," said the widower. "Not that +time. Do you hear him?--'Could ye come back to me, Douglas'?" + +"Oh, but it isn't absence that is killing him and his friends," cried +one of the young women. "It is Brainard Macauley." + +"That is a mistake," said Tom Meredith, as easily as he could. "There +goes Jim's double quartette. Listen, and you will hear them try to----" + +But the lady who had mentioned Brainard Macauley cried indignantly: "You +try to change the subject the moment it threatens to be interesting. +They were together everywhere until the day she went away; they danced +and 'sat out' together through the whole of one country-club party; +they drove every afternoon; they took long walks, and he was at the +Sherwoods' every evening of her last week in town. 'That is a mistake!'" + +"I'm afraid it looks rather bleak for Wetherford," said the widower. "I +went up to the 'Journal' office on business, one day, and there sat Miss +Sherwood in Macauley's inner temple, chatting with a reporter, while +Brainard finished some work." + +"Helen is eccentric," said the former speaker, "but she's not quite that +eccentric, unless they were engaged. It is well understood that they +will announce it in the fall." + +Miss Hinsdale kindly explained to Harkless that Brainard Macauley was +the editor of the "Rouen Morning Journal"--"a very distinguished young +man, not over twenty-eight, and perfectly wonderful." Already a power +to be accounted with in national politics, he was "really a tremendous +success," and sure to go far; "one of those delicate-looking men, who +are yet so strong you know they won't let the lightning hurt you." It +really looked as if Helen Sherwood (whom Harkless really ought to meet) +had actually been caught in the toils at tet, those toils wherein so +many luckless youths had lain enmeshed for her sake. He must meet Mr. +Macauley, too, the most interesting man in Rouen. After her little +portrait of him, didn't Mr. Harkless agree that it looked really pretty +dull for Miss Sherwood's other lovers? + +Mr. Harkless smiled, and agreed that it did indeed. She felt a thrill of +compassion for him, and her subsequent description of the pathos of +his smile was luminous. She said it was natural that a man who had been +through so much suffering from those horrible "White-Cappers" should +have a smile that struck into your heart like a knife. + +Despite all that Meredith could do, and after his notorious effort to +shift the subject he could do very little, the light prattle ran on +about Helen Sherwood and Brainard Macauley. Tom abused himself for his +wild notion of cheering his visitor with these people who had no talk, +and who, if they drifted out of commonplace froth, had no medium to +float them unless they sailed the currents, of local personality, and he +mentally upbraided them for a set of gossiping ninnies. They conducted +a conversation (if it could be dignified by a name) of which no stranger +could possibly partake, and which, by a hideous coincidence, was making +his friend writhe, figuratively speaking, for Harkless sat like a fixed +shadow. He uttered scarcely a word the whole evening, though Meredith +knew that his guests would talk about him enthusiastically, the next +day, none the less. The journalist's silence was enforced by the +topics; but what expression and manner the light allowed them to see was +friendly and receptive, as though he listened to brilliant suggestions. +He had a nice courtesy, and Miss Hinsdale felt continually that she +was cleverer than usual this evening, and no one took his silence to be +churlish, though they all innocently wondered why he did not talk more; +however, it was probable that a man who had been so interestingly and +terribly shot would be rather silent for a time afterward. + +That night, when Harkless had gone to bed Meredith sat late by his own +window calling himself names. He became aware of a rhomboidal patch of +yellow light on a wall of foliage without, and saw that it came from his +friend's window. After dubious consideration, he knocked softly on the +door. + +"Come." + +He went in. Harkless was in bed, and laughed faintly as Meredith +entered. "I--I'm fearing you'll have to let me settle your gas bill, +Tom. I'm not like I used to be, quite. I find--since--since that +business, I can't sleep without a light. I rather get the--the horrors +in the dark." + +Incoherently, Meredith made a compassionate exclamation and turned to +go, and, as he left the room, his eye fell upon the mantel-piece. The +position of the photographs had been altered, and the picture of the +girl who looked straight out at you was gone. The mere rim of it was +visible behind the image of an old gentleman with a sardonic mouth. + +An hour later, Tom came back, and spoke through the closed door. "Boy, +don't you think you can get to sleep now?" + +"Yes, Tom. It's all right. You get to bed. Nothing troubles me." + +Meredith spent the next day in great tribulation and perplexity; he felt +that something had to be done, but what to do he did not know. He still +believed that a "stirring-up" was what Harkless needed--not the species +of "stirring-up" that had taken place last night, but a diversion which +would divert. As they sat at dinner, a suggestion came to him and he +determined to follow it. He was called to the telephone, and a voice +strange to his ear murmured in a tone of polite deference: "A lady +wishes to know if Mr. Meredith and his visitor intend being present at +the country-club this evening." + +He had received the same inquiry from Miss Hinsdale on her departure the +previous evening, and had answered vaguely; hence he now rejoined: + +"You are quite an expert ventriloquist, but you do not deceive me." + +"I beg your pardon, sir," creaked the small articulation. + +"This is Miss Hinsdale, isn't it?" + +"No, sir. The lady wishes to know if you will kindly answer her +question." + +"Tell her, yes." He hung up the receiver, and returned to the table. +"Some of Clara Hinsdale's play," he explained. "You made a devastating +impression on her, boy; you were wise enough not to talk any, and she +foolishly thought you were as interesting as you looked. We're going out +to a country-club dance. It's given for the devotees who stay here all +summer and swear Rouen is always cool; and nobody dances but me and the +very young ones. It won't be so bad; you can smoke anywhere, and there +are little tables. We'll go." + +"Thank you, Tom, you're so good to think of it, but----" + +"But what?" + +"Would you mind going alone? I find it very pleasant sitting on your +veranda, or I'll get a book." + +"Very well, if you don't want to go, I don't. I haven't had a dance for +three months and I'm still addicted to it. But of course----" + +"I think I'd like to go." Harkless acquiesced at once, with a cheerful +voice and a lifeless eye, and the good Tom felt unaccountably mean in +persisting. + +They drove out into the country through mists like lakes, and found +themselves part of a procession of twinkling carriage-lights, and cigar +sparks shining above open vehicles, winding along the levels like a +canoe fete on the water. In the entrance hall of the club-house they +encountered Miss Hinsdale, very handsome, large, and dark, elaborately +beaming and bending toward them warmly. + +"Who do you think is here?" she said. + +"Gomez?" ventured Meredith. + +"Helen Sherwood!" she cried. "Go and present Mr. Harkless before +Brainard Macauley takes her away to some corner." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. PRETTY MARQUISE + +The two friends walked through a sort of opera-bouffe to find her; music +playing, a swaying crowd, bright lights, bright eyes, pretty women, a +glimpse of dancers footing it over a polished floor in a room beyond--a +hundred colors flashing and changing, as the groups shifted, before the +eye could take in the composition of the picture. A sudden thrill of +exhilaration rioted in John's pulses, and he trembled like a child +before the gay disclosure of a Christmas tree. Meredith swore to himself +that he would not have known him for the man of five minutes agone. Two +small, bright red spots glowed in his cheeks; he held himself erect with +head thrown back and shoulders squared, and the idolizing Tom thought he +looked as a king ought to look at the acme of power and dominion. Miss +Hinsdale's word in the hallway was the geniuses touch: a bent, gray man +of years--a word--and behold the Great John Harkless, the youth of elder +days ripened to his prime of wisdom and strength! People made way for +them and whispered as they passed. It had been years since John Harkless +had been in the midst of a crowd of butterfly people; everything seemed +unreal, or like a ball in a play; presently the curtain would fall and +close the lights and laughter from his view, leaving only the echo of +music. It was like a kaleidoscope for color: the bouquets of crimson or +white or pink or purple; the profusion of pretty dresses, the brilliant, +tender fabrics, and the handsome, foreshortened faces thrown back over +white shoulders in laughter; glossy raven hair and fair tresses moving +in quick salutations; and the whole gay shimmer of festal tints and rich +artificialities set off against the brave green of out-doors, for the +walls were solidly adorned with forest branches, with, here and there +amongst them, a blood-red droop of beech leaves, stabbed in autumn's +first skirmish with summer. The night was cool, and the air full of +flower smells, while harp, violin, and 'cello sent a waltz-throb through +it all. + +They looked rapidly through several rooms and failed to find her +indoors, and they went outside, not exchanging a word, and though +Harkless was a little lame, Tom barely kept up with his long stride. +On the verandas there were fairy lamps and colored incandescents over +little tables, where people sat chatting. She was not there. Beyond +was a terrace, where a myriad of Oriental lanterns outlined themselves +clearly in fantastically shaped planes of scarlet and orange and green +against the blue darkness. Many couples and groups were scattered over +the terrace, and the young men paused on the steps, looking swiftly from +group to group. She was not there. + +"We haven't looked in the dancing-room," said Tom, looking at his +companion rather sorrowfully. John turned quickly and they reentered the +house. + +He had parted from her in the blackness of storm with only the flicker +of lightning to show her to him, but it was in a blaze of lights that +he saw her again. The dance was just ended, and she stood in a wide +doorway, half surrounded by pretty girls and young men, who were +greeting her. He had one full look at her. She was leaning to them all, +her arms full of flowers, and she seemed the radiant centre of all the +light and gaiety of the place. Even Meredith stopped short and exclaimed +upon her; for one never got used to her; and he remembered that whenever +he saw her after absence the sense of her beauty rushed over him anew. +And he believed the feeling on this occasion was keener than ever +before, for she was prettier than he had ever seen her. + +"No wonder!" he cried; but Harkless did not understand. As they pressed +forward, Meredith perceived that they were only two more radii of +a circle of youths, sprung from every direction as the waltz ended, +bearing down upon the common focus to secure the next dance. Harkless +saw nothing but that she stood there before him. He feared a little that +every one might notice how he was trembling, and he was glad of the many +voices that kept them from hearing his heart knock against his ribs. +She saw him coming toward her, and nodded to him pleasantly, in just the +fashion in which she was bowing to half a dozen others, and at that a +pang of hot pain went through him like an arrow--an arrow poisoned with +cordial, casual friendliness. + +She extended her hand to him and gave him a smile that chilled him--it, +was so conventionally courteous and poised so nicely in the manner of +society. He went hot and cold fast enough then, for not less pleasantly +in that manner did she exclaim: "I am very glad to see you, Mr. +Harkless, so extremely glad! And so delighted to find you looking strong +again! Do tell me about all our friends in Plattville. I should like to +have a little chat with you some time. So good of you to find me in this +melee." + +And with that she turned from the poor fellow to Meredith. "How do you +do. Cousin Tom? I've saved the next dance for you." Then she distributed +words here and there and everywhere, amongst the circle about +her--pretty Marquise with a vengeance! "No, Mr. Swift, I shall not make +a card; you must come at the beginning of a dance if you want one. I +cannot promise the next; it is quite impossible. No, I did not go as +far north as Mackinac. How do you do, Mr. Burlingame?--Yes, quite an +age;--no, not the next, I am afraid; nor the next;--I'm not keeping a +card. Good evening, Mr. Baird. No, not the next. Oh, _thank_ you, Miss +Hinsdale!--No, Mr. Swift, it is quite impossible--I'm so sorry. Cousin, +the music is commencing; this is ours." + +As she took Meredith's arm, she handed her flowers to a gentleman beside +her with the slightest glance at the recipient; and the gesture and look +made her partner heartsick for his friend; it was so easy and natural +and with the air of habit, and had so much of the manner with which a +woman hands things to a man who partakes of her inner confidences. Tom +knew that Harkless divined the gesture, as well as the identity of the +gentleman. They started away, but she paused, and turned to the latter. +"Mr. Macauley, you must meet Mr. Harkless. We leave him in your care, +and you must see that he meets all the pretty girls--you are used to +being nice to distinguished strangers, you know." + +Tom put his arm about her, and whirled her away, and Harkless felt as if +a soft hand had dealt him blow after blow in the face. Was this lady of +little baffling forms and small cold graces the girl who had been his +kind comrade, the girl who stood with him by the blue tent-pole, she who +had run to him to save his life, she who walked at his side along the +pike? The contrast of these homely scenes made him laugh grimly. Was +this she who had wept before him--was it she who had been redolent of +kindness so fragrantly natural and true--was it she who said she "loved +all these people very much, in spite of having known them only two +days"? + +He cried out upon himself for a fool. What was he in her eyes but a +man who had needed to be told that she did not love him! Had he not +better--and more courteously to her--have avoided the meeting which was +necessarily an embarrassment to her? But no; he must rush like a Mohawk +till he found her and forced her to rebuff him, to veil her kindness in +little manners, to remind him that he put himself in the character of a +rejected importunate. She had punished him enough, perhaps a little too +cruelly enough, in leaving him with the man to whom she handed bouquets +as a matter of course. And this man was one whose success had long been +a trumpet at his ear, blaring loudly of his own failure in the same +career. + +It had been several years since he first heard of the young editor of +the Rouen "Journal," and nowadays almost everybody knew about Brainard +Macauley. Outwardly, he was of no unusual type: an American of affairs; +slight, easy, yet alert; relaxed, yet sharp; neat, regular, strong; a +quizzical eye, a business chin, an ambitious head with soft, straight +hair outlining a square brow; and though he was "of a type," he was not +commonplace, and one knew at once that he would make a rattling fight to +arrive where he was going. + +It appeared that he had heard of Harkless, as well as the Carlow editor +of him. They had a few moments of shop, and he talked to Harkless as a +brother craftsman, without the offense of graciousness, and spoke of his +pleasure in the meeting and of his relief at Harkless's recovery, for, +aside from the mere human feeling, the party needed him in Carlow--even +if he did not always prove himself "quite a vehement partisan." Macauley +laughed. "But I'm not doing my duty," he said presently; "I was to +present you to the pretty ones only, I believe. Will you designate your +preferred fashion of beauty? We serve all styles." + +"Thank you," the other answered, hurriedly. "I met a number last +night--quite a number, indeed." He had seen them only in dim lights, +however, and except Miss Hinsdale and the widower, had not the faintest +recognition of any of them, and he cut them all, except those two, one +after the other, before the evening was over; and this was a strange +thing for a politician to do; but he did it with such an innocent eye +that they remembered the dark porch and forgave him. + +"Shall we watch the dancing, then?" asked Macauley. Harkless was already +watching part of it. + +"If you will. I have not seen this sort for more than five years." + +"It is always a treat, I think, and a constant proof that the older +school of English caricaturists didn't overdraw." + +"Yes; one realizes they couldn't." + +Harkless remembered Tom Meredith's fine accomplishment of dancing; +he had been the most famous dancer of college days, and it was in the +dancer that John best saw his old friend again as he had known him, the +light lad of the active toe. Other couples flickered about the one +John watched, couples that plodded, couples that bobbed, couples that +galloped, couples that slid, but the cousins alone passed across the +glistening reflections as lightly as October leaves blown over the +forest floor. In the midst of people who danced with fixed, glassy eyes, +or who frowned with determination to do their duty or to die, and +seemed to expect the latter, or who were pale with the apprehension of +collision, or who made visible their anxiety to breathe through the nose +and look pleased at the same time, these two floated and smiled +easily upon life. Three or four steep steps made the portly and +cigarette-smoking Meredith pant like an old man, but a dance was a +cooling draught to him. As for the little Marquise--when she danced, she +danced away with all those luckless hearts that were not hers already. +The orchestra launched the jubilant measures of the deux-temps with a +torrent of vivacity, and the girl's rhythmic flight answered like a sail +taking the breeze. + +There was one heart she had long since won which answered her every +movement. Flushed, rapturous, eyes sparkling, cheeks aglow, the small +head weaving through the throng like a golden shuttle--ah, did she know +how adorable she was! Was Tom right: is it the attainable unattainable +to one man and given to some other that leaves a deeper mark upon him +than success? At all events the unattainable was now like a hot sting +in the heart, but yet a sting more precious than a balm. The voice of +Brainard Macauley broke in: + +"A white brow and a long lash, a flushing cheek and a soft eye, a voice +that laughs and breaks and ripples in the middle of a word, a girl you +could put in your hat, Mr. Harkless--and there you have a strong man +prone! But I congratulate you on the manner your subordinates operate +the 'Herald' during your absence. I understand you are making it a +daily." + +Macauley was staring at him quizzically, and Harkless, puzzled, but +without resentment of the other's whimsey, could only decide that the +editor of the Rouen "Journal" was an exceedingly odd young man. All at +once he found Meredith and the girl herself beside him; they had stopped +before the dance was finished. He had the impulse to guard himself from +new blows as a boy throws up his elbow to ward a buffet, and, although +he could not ward with his elbow, for his heart was on his sleeve--where +he began to believe that Macauley had seen it--he remembered that he +could smile with as much intentional mechanism as any wornout rounder of +afternoons. He stepped aside for her, and she saw what she had known but +had not seen before, for the thickness of the crowd, and this was that +he limped and leaned upon his stick. + +"Do let me thank you," he said, with a louder echo of her manner of +greeting him, a little earlier. "It has been such a pleasure to watch +you dance. It is really charming to meet you here. If I return to +Plattville I shall surely remember to tell Miss Briscoe." + +At this she surprised him with a sudden, clear look in the eyes, so +reproachful, so deep, so sad, that he started. She took her flowers +from Macauley, who had the air of understanding the significance of such +ceremonies very well, and saying, "Shan't we all go out on the terrace?" +placed her arm in Harkless's, and conducted him (and not the others) +to the most secluded corner of the terrace, a nook illumined by one +Japanese lantern; to which spot it was his belief that he led her. She +sank into a chair, with the look of the girl who had stood by the blue +tent-pole. He could only stare at her, amazed by her abrupt change to +this dazzling, if reproachful, kindness, confused by his good fortune. + +"'_If_ you go back to Plattville!'" she said in a low voice. "What do +you mean?" + +"I don't know. I've been dull lately, and I thought I might go somewhere +else." Caught in a witchery no lack of possession could dispel, and +which the prospect of loss made only stronger while it lasted, he took +little thought of what he said; little thought of anything but of the +gladness it was to be with her again. + +"'Somewhere else?' Where?" + +"Anywhere." + +"Have you no sense of responsibility? What is to become of your paper?" + +"The 'Herald'? Oh, it will potter along, I think." + +"But what has become of it in your absence, already? Has it not +deteriorated very much?" + +"No," he said; "it's better than it ever was before." + +"What!" she cried, with a little gasp. + +"You're so astounded at my modesty?" + +"But please tell me what you mean," she said quickly. "What happened to +it?" + +"Isn't the 'Herald' rather a dull subject? I'll tell you how well Judge +Briscoe looked when he came to see me; or, rather, tell me of your +summer in the north." + +"No," she answered earnestly. "Don't you remember my telling you that I +am interested in newspaper work?" + +"I have even heard so from others," he said, with an instant of dryness. + +"Please tell me about the 'Herald'?" + +"It is very simple. Your friend, Mr. Fisbee, found a substitute, a +relative six feet high with his coat off, a traction engine for energy +and a limited mail for speed. He writes me letters on a type writer +suffering from an impediment in its speech; and in brief, he is an +enterprising idiot with a mania for work-baskets." + +Her face was in the shadow. + +"You say the--idiot--is enterprising?" she inquired. + +"Far more enterprising and far less idiot than I. They are looking +for oil down there, and when he came he knew less about oil than a +kindergarten babe, and spoke of 'boring for kerosene' in his first +letter to me; but he knows it all now, and writes long and convincing +geological arguments. If a well comes in, he is prepared to get out an +extra! Perhaps you may understand what that means in Plattville, with +the 'Herald's' numerous forces. I owe him everything, even the shares in +the oil company, which he has persuaded me to take. And he is going to +dare to make the 'Herald' a daily. Do you remember asking me why I had +never done that? It seemed rather a venture to try to compete with the +Rouen papers in offering State and foreign news, but this young +Gulliver has tacked onto the Associated Press, and means to print a +quarto--that's eight pages, you know--once a week, Saturday, and a +double sheet, four pages, on other mornings. The daily venture begins +next Monday." + +"Will it succeed?" + +"Oh, no!" he laughed. + +"You think not?" Her interest in this dull business struck him as +astonishing, and yet in character with her as he had known her in +Plattville. Then he wondered unhappily if she thought that talking +of the "Herald" and learning things about the working of a country +newspaper would help her to understand Brainard Macauley. + +"Why have you let him go on with it?" she asked. "I suppose you have +encouraged him?" + +"Oh, yes, I encouraged him. The creature's recklessness fascinated me. A +dare-devil like that is always charming.'" + +"You think there is no chance for the creature's succeeding with the +daily?" + +"None," he replied indifferently. + +"You mentioned work-baskets, I think?" + +He laughed again. "I believe him to be the original wooden-nutmeg man. +Once a week he produces a 'Woman's Page,' wherein he presents to the +Carlow female public three methods for making currant jelly, three +receipts for the concoction of salads, and directs the ladies how to +manufacture a pretty work-basket out of odd scraps in twenty minutes. +The astonishing part of it is that he has not yet been mobbed by the +women who have followed his directions." + +"So you think the daily is a mistake and that your enterprising idiot +should be mobbed? Why?" She seemed to be taking him very seriously. + +"I think he may be--for his 'Woman's Page.'" + +"It is all wrong, you think?" + +"What could a Yankee six-footer cousin of old Fisbee's know about +currant jelly and work-baskets?" + +"You know about currant jelly and work-baskets yourself?" + +"Heaven defend the right, I do not!" + +"You are sure he is six feet?" + +"You should see his signature; that leaves no doubt. And, also, his +ability denotes his stature." + +"You believe that ability is in proportion to height, do you not?" There +was a dangerous luring in her tone. + +His memory recalled to him that he was treading on undermined ground, so +he hastened to say: "In inverse proportion." + +"Then your substitute is a failure. I see," she said, slowly. + +What muffled illumination there was in their nook fell upon his face; +her back was toward it, so that she was only an outline to him, and he +would have been startled and touched to the quick, could he have known +that her lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears as she spoke the +last words. He was happy as he had not been since his short June day; +it was enough to be with her again. Nothing, not even Brainard Macauley, +could dull his delight. And, besides, for a few minutes he had forgotten +Brainard Macauley. What more could man ask than to sit in the gloom with +her, to know that he was near her again for a little while, and to talk +about anything--if he talked at all? Nonsense and idle exaggeration +about young Fisbee would do as well as another thing. + +"The young gentleman is an exception," he returned. "I told you I owed +everything to him; my gratitude will not allow me to admit that his +ability is less than his stature. He suggested my purchase of a quantity +of Mr. Watts's oil stock when it was knocked flat on its back by two +wells turning out dry; but if Mr. Watts's third well comes in, and young +Fisbee has convinced me that it will, and if my Midas's extra booms the +stock and the boom develops, I shall oppose the income tax. Poor old +Plattville will be full of strangers and speculators, and the 'Herald' +will advocate vast improvements to impress the investor's eye. +Stagnation and picturesqueness will flee together; it is the history +of the Indiana town. Already the 'Herald' is clamoring with Schofields' +Henry--you remember the bell-ringer?--for Main Street to be asphalted. +It will all come. The only trouble with young Fisbee is that he has too +much ability." + +"And yet the daily will not succeed?" + +"No. That's too big a jump, unless my young man's expressions on the +tariff command a wide sale amongst curio-hunters." + +"Then he is quite a fool about political matters?" + +"Far from it; he is highly ingenious. His editorials are often the +subtlest cups of flattery I ever sipped, many of them showing assiduous +study of old files to master the method and notions of his eagle-eyed +predecessor. But the tariff seems to have got him. He is a very +masculine person, except for this one feminine quality, for, if I may +say it without ungallantry, there is a legend that no woman has ever +understood the tariff. Young Fisbee must be an extremely travelled +person, because the custom-house people have made an impression upon him +which no few encounters with them could explain, and he conceives the +tariff to be a law which discommodes a lady who has been purchasing +gloves in Paris. He thinks smuggling the great evil of the present +tariff system; it is such a temptation, so insidious a break-down of +moral fibre. His views must edify Carlow." + +She gave a quick, stifled cry. "Oh! there isn't a word of truth in what +you say! Not a word! I did not think you could be so cruel!" + +He bent forward, peering at her in astonishment. + +"Cruel!" + +"You know it is a hateful distortion--an exaggeration!" she exclaimed +passionately. "No man living could have so little sense as you say +he has. The tariff is perfectly plain to any child. When you were in +Plattville you weren't like this--I didn't know you were unkind!" + +"I--I don't understand, please----" + +"Miss Hinsdale has been talking--raving--to me about you! You may not +know it--though I suppose you do--but you made a conquest last night. +It seems a little hard on the poor young man who is at work for you in +Plattville, doing his best for you, plodding on through the hot days, +and doing all he knows how, while you sit listening to music in the +evenings with Clara Hinsdale, and make a mock of his work and his trying +to please you----" + +"But I didn't mention him to Miss Hinsdale. In fact, I didn't mention +_anything_ to Miss Hinsdale. What have I done? The young man is making +his living by his work--and my living, too, for that matter. It only +seems to me that his tariff editorials are rather humorous." + +She laughed suddenly--ringingly. "Of course they are! How should I know? +Immensely humorous! And the good creature knows nothing beyond smuggling +and the custom-house and chalk marks? Why, even _I_--ha, ha, ha!--even +_I_--should have known better than that. What a little fool your +enterprising idiot must be!--with his work-baskets and currant jelly +and his trying to make the 'Herald' a daily!--It will be a ludicrous +failure, of course. No doubt he thought he was being quite wise, and +was pleased over his tariff editorials--his funny, funny editorials--his +best--to please you! Ha, ha, ha! How immensely funny!" + +"Do you know him?" he asked abruptly. + +"I have not the honor of the gentleman's acquaintance. Ah," she rejoined +bitterly, "I see what you mean; it is the old accusation, is it? I am a +woman, and I 'sound the personal note.' I could not resent a cruelty +for the sake of a man I do not know. But let it go. My resentment is +personal, after all, since it is against a man I do know--_you_!" + +He leaned toward her because he could not help it. "I'd rather have +resentment from you than nothing." + +"Then I will give you nothing," she answered quickly. + +"You flout me!" he cried. "That is better than resentment." + +"I hate you most, I think," she said with a tremulousness he did not +perceive, "when you say you do not care to go back to Plattville." + +"Did I say it?" + +"It is in every word, and it is true; you don't care to go back there." + +"Yes, it is true; I don't." + +"You want to leave the place where you do good; to leave those people +who love you, who were ready to die to avenge your hurt!" she exclaimed +vehemently. "Oh, I say that is shameful!" + +"Yes, I know," he returned gravely. "I am ashamed." + +"Don't say that!" she cried. "Don't say you are ashamed of it. Do you +suppose I do not understand the dreariness it has been for you? Don't +you know that I see it is a horror to you, that it brings back your +struggle with those beasts in the dark, and revivifies all your +suffering, merely to think of it?" Her turns and sudden contradictions +left him tangled in a maze; he could not follow, but must sit helpless +to keep pace with her, while the sheer happiness of being with her +tingled through his veins. She rose and took a step aside, then spoke +again: "Well, since you want to leave Carlow, you shall; since you do +not wish to return, you need not.--Are you laughing at me?" She leaned +toward him, and looked at him steadily, with her face close to his. He +was not laughing; his eyes shone with a deep fire; in that nearness he +hardly comprehended what she said. "Thank you for not laughing," she +whispered, and leaned back from him. "I suppose you think my promises +are quite wild, and they are. I do not know what I was talking about, or +what I meant, any better than you do. You may understand some day. It +is all--I mean that it hurts one to hear you say you do not care for +Carlow." She turned away. "Come." + +"Where?" + +"It is my turn to conclude the interview. You remember, the last time it +was you who--" She broke off, shuddering, and covered her face with her +hands. "Ah, that!" she exclaimed. "I did not think--I did not mean to +speak of that miserable, miserable night. And _I_ to be harsh with you +for not caring to go back to Carlow!" + +"Your harshness," he laughed. "A waft of eider." + +"We must go," she said. He did not move, but sat staring at her like a +thirsty man drinking. With an impulsive and pretty gesture she reached +out her hand to him. Her little, white glove trembled in the night +before his eyes, and his heart leaped to meet its sudden sweet +generosity; his thin fingers closed over it as he rose, and then that +hand he had likened to a white butterfly lay warm and light and quiet in +his own. And as they had so often stood together in their short day and +their two nights of the moon, so now again they stood with a serenading +silence between them. A plaintive waltz-refrain from the house ran +through the blue woof of starlit air as a sad-colored thread through +the tapestry of night; they heard the mellow croon of the 'cello and the +silver plaints of violins, the chiming harp, and the triangle bells, +all woven into a minor strain of dance-music that beat gently upon their +ears with such suggestion of the past, that, as by some witchcraft of +hearing, they listened to music made for lovers dancing, and lovers +listening, a hundred years ago. + +"I care for only one thing in this world," he said, tremulously. "Have +I lost it? I didn't mean to ask you, that last night, although you +answered. Have I no chance? Is it still the same? Do I come too late?" + +The butterfly fluttered in his hand and then away. + +She drew back and looked at him a moment. + +"There is one thing you must always understand," she said gently, "and +that is that a woman can be grateful. I give you all the gratitude there +is in me, and I think I have a great deal; it is all yours. Will you +always remember that?" + +"Gratitude? What can there--" + +"You do not understand now, but some day you will. I ask you to remember +that my every act and thought which bore reference to you--and there +have been many--came from the purest gratitude. Although you do not see +it now, will you promise to believe it?" + +"Yes," he said simply. + +"For the rest--" She paused. "For the rest--I do not love you." + +He bowed his head and did not lift it. + +"Do you understand?" she asked. + +"I understand," he answered, quietly. + +She looked at him long, and then, suddenly, her hand to her heart, gave +a little, pitying, tender cry and moved toward him. At this he raised +his head and smiled sadly. "No; don't you mind," he said. "It's all +right. I was such a cad the other time I needed to be told; I was +so entirely silly about it, I couldn't face the others to tell them +good-night, and I left you out there to go in to them alone. I didn't +realize, for my manners were all gone. I'd lived in a kind of stupor, +I think, for a long time; then being with you was like a dream, and the +sudden waking was too much for me. I've been ashamed often, since, in +thinking of it--and I was well punished for not taking you in. I thought +only of myself, and I behaved like a whining, unbalanced boy. But I had +whined from the moment I met you, because I was sickly with egoism and +loneliness and self-pity. I'm keeping you from the dancing. Won't you +let me take you back to the house?" + +A commanding and querulous contralto voice was heard behind them, and a +dim, majestic figure appeared under the Japanese lantern. + +"Helen?" + +The girl turned quickly. "Yes, mamma." + +"May I ask you to return to the club-house for supper with me? Your +father has been very much worried about you. We have all been looking +for you." + +"Mamma, this is Mr. Harkless." + +"How do you do?" The lady murmured this much so far under her breath +that the words might have been mistaken for anything else--most +plausibly, perhaps, for, "Who cares if it is?"--nor further did she +acknowledge John's profound inclination. Frigidity and complaint of +ill-usage made a glamour in every fold of her expensive garments; she +was large and troubled and severe. A second figure emerged from behind +her and bowed with the suave dignity that belonged to Brainard Macauley. +"Mr. Macauley has asked to sit at our table," Mrs. Sherwood said to +Helen. "May I beg you to come at once? Your father is holding places for +us." + +"Certainly," she answered. "I will follow you with Mr. Harkless." + +"I think Mr. Harkless will excuse you," said the elder lady. "He has +an engagement. Mr. Meredith has been looking everywhere for him to take +Miss Hinsdale out to supper." + +"Good-night, Miss Sherwood," said John in a cheerful voice. "I thank you +for sitting out the dance with me." + +"Good-night," she said, and gave him her hand. "I'm so sorry I shan't +see you again; I am only in Rouen for this evening, or I should ask you +to come to see me. I am leaving to-morrow morning. Good-night.--Yes, +mamma." + +The three figures went toward the bright lights of the club-house. She +was leaning on Macauley's arm and chatting gaily, smiling up at him +brightly. John watched her till she was lost in the throng on the +veranda. There, in the lights, where waiters were arranging little +tables, every one was talking and moving about, noisily, good-humored +and happy. There was a flourish of violins, and then the orchestra swung +into a rampant march that pranced like uncurbed cavalry; it stirred the +blood of old men with militant bugle calls and blast of horns; it +might have heralded the chariot of a flamboyant war god rioting out of +sunrise, plumed with youth. Some quite young men on the veranda made +as if they were restive horses champing at the bit and heading a +procession, and, from a group near by, loud laughter pealed. + +John Harkless lifted to his face the hand that had held hers; there was +the faint perfume of her glove. He kissed his own hand. Then he put that +hand and the other to his forehead, and sank into her chair. + +"Let me get back," he said. "Let me get back to Plattville, where I +belong." + +Tom Meredith came calling him. "Harkless? John Harkless?" + +"Here I am, Tom." + +"Come along, boy. What on earth are you doing out here all alone? I +thought you were with--I thought some people were with you. You're +bored to death, I know; but come along and be bored some more, because I +promised to bring you in for supper. Then we'll go home. They've saved a +place for you by Miss Hinsdale." + +"Very well, lad," answered Harkless, and put his hand on the other's +shoulder. "Thank you." + +The next day he could not leave his bed; his wounds were feverish and +his weakness had returned. Meredith was shaken with remorse because +he had let him wander around in the damp night air with no one to look +after him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. HELEN'S TOAST + +Judge Briscoe was sitting out under the afternoon sky with his chair +tilted back and his feet propped against the steps. His coat was off, +and Minnie sat near at hand sewing a button on the garment for him, and +she wore that dreamy glaze that comes over women's eyes when they sew +for other people. + +From the interior of the house rose and fell the murmur of a number of +voices engaged in a conversation, which, for a time, seemed to consist +of dejected monosyllables; but presently the judge and Minnie heard +Helen's voice, clear, soft, and trembling a little with excitement. She +talked only two or three minutes, but what she said stirred up a great +commotion. All the voices burst forth at once in ejaculations--almost +shouts; but presently they were again subdued and still, except for +the single soft one, which held forth more quietly, but with a deeper +agitation, than any of the others. + +"You needn't try to bamboozle me," said the judge in a covert tone to +his daughter, and with a glance at the parlor window, whence now issued +the rumble of Warren Smith's basso. "I tell you that girl would follow +John Harkless to Jericho." + +Minnie shook her head mysteriously, and bit a thread with a vague frown. + +"Well, why not?" asked the judge crossly. + +"Why wouldn't she have him, then?" + +"Well, who knows he's asked her yet?" + +Minnie screamed derisively at the density of man, "What made him run off +that way, the night he was hurt? Why didn't he come back in the house +with her?" + +"Pshaw!" + +"Don't you suppose a woman understands?" + +"Meaning that you know more about it than I do, I presume," grunted the +old gentleman. + +"Yes, father," she replied, smiling benignantly upon him. + +"Did she tell you?" he asked abruptly. + +"No, no. I guess the truth is that women don't know more than men so +much as they see more; they understand more without having to read about +it." + +"That's the way of it, is it?" he laughed. "Well, it don't make any +difference, she'll have him some time." + +"No, father; it's only gratitude." + +"Gratitude!" The judge snorted scornfully. "Girls don't do as much as +she's done for him out of gratitude. _Look_ what she's doing; not only +running the 'Herald' for him, but making it a daily, and a good daily at +that. First time I saw her I knew right away she was the smartest girl +I ever laid eyes on;--I expect she must have got it from her mother. +Gratitude! Pooh! Look how she's studied his interests, and watched like +a cat for chances for him in everything. Didn't she get him into Eph +Watts's company? She talked to Watts and the other fellows, day after +day, and drove around their leased land with 'em, and studied it up, and +got on the inside, and made him buy. Now, if they strike it--and +she's sure they will, and _I_'m sure she knows when to have faith in a +thing--why, they'll sell out to the Standard, and they can all quit work +for the rest of their lives if they want to; and Harkless gets as +much as any without lifting a finger, all because he had a little +money--mighty little, too--laid up in bank and a girl that saw where to +put it. She did that for him, didn't she?" + +"Don't you see what fun it's been for her?" returned Minnie. "She's been +having the best time she ever had; I never knew any one half so happy." + +"Yes; she went up and saw him at that party, and she knows he's still +thinking about her. I shouldn't be surprised if he asked her then, and +that's what makes her so gay." + +"Well, she couldn't have said 'yes,' because he went back to his bed the +next day, and he's been there most of the time since." + +"Pshaw! He wasn't over his injuries, and he was weak and got malaria." + +"Well, she couldn't be so happy while he's sick, if she cared very much +about him." + +"He's not very sick. She's happy because she's working for him, and she +knows his illness isn't serious. He'll be a well man when she says the +word. He's love-sick, that's what he is; I never saw a man so taken down +with it in my life." + +"Then it isn't malaria?" Minnie said, with a smile of some superiority. + +"You're just like your poor mother," the old gentleman answered, growing +rather red. "She never could learn to argue. What I say is that Helen +cares about him, whether she says she does or not, whether she acts like +it or not--or whether she thinks she does or not," he added irascibly. +"Do you know what she's doing for him to-day?" + +"Not exactly." + +"Well, when they were talking together at that party, he said something +that made her think he was anxious to get away from Plattville--you're +not to repeat this, child; she told me, relying on my discretion." + +"Well?" + +"Do you know why she's got these men to come here to-day to meet +her--Warren Smith and Landis and Homer, and Boswell and young Keating of +Amo, and Tom Martin and those two fellows from Gaines County?" + +"Something about politics, isn't it?" + +"'Something about politics!'" he echoed. "I should say it is! Wait till +it's done, and this evening I'll tell you--if you can keep a secret." + +Minnie set her work-basket on the steps. "Oh, I guess I can keep a +secret," she said. "But it won't make any difference." + +"You mean you've said it, and you'll stick to it that it's gratitude +till their wedding day." + +"She knows he gave her father something to do, and helped him in other +ways, when no one else did." + +"I know all about that. She reproaches herself for having neglected +Fisbee while a stranger took care of him, and saved him from +starving--and worse. She's unreasonable about it; she didn't know he +was in want till long after. That's just like Fisbee, to tell her, +afterwards. He didn't tell her how low he got; but he hinted at it +to her, and I guess she understood; I gathered that much from him. Of +course she's grateful, but gratefulness don't account for everything." + +"Yes it does." + +"Well, I never expected to have the last word with a woman." + +"Well, you needn't," said Minnie. + +"I don't. I never do," he retorted. She did not answer, but hummed a +little tune and looked up at the tree-tops. + +Warren Smith appeared in the doorway. "Judge," he said, "will you step +inside? We need you." + +Briscoe nodded and rose at once. As he reached the door, Minnie said in +a piercing whisper: + +"It's hard to be sure about her, but I'm right; it's gratitude." + +"There," he replied, chuckling, "I thought I shouldn't have the last +word." Minnie began to sing, and the judge, after standing in the +doorway till he was again summoned from within, slowly retired. + + + +Briscoe had persisted in his own explanation of Helen's gaiety; +nevertheless he did not question his daughter's assumption that the +young lady was enjoying her career in Carlow. She was free as a bird +to go and come, and her duties and pleasures ran together in a happy +excitement. Her hands were full of work, but she sought and increased +new tasks, and performed them also. She came to Carlow as unused to the +soil as was Harkless on his arrival, and her educational equipment for +the work was far less than his; her experience, nothing. But both were +native to the State; and the genius of the American is adaptability, +and both were sprung from pioneers whose means of life depended on that +quality. + +There are, here and there, excrescent individuals who, through stock +decadence, or their inability to comprehend republican conditions, +are not assimilated by the body of the country; but many of these are +imports, while some are exports. Our foreign-born agitators now and then +find themselves removed by the police to institutions of routine, +while the romantic innocents who set up crests in the face of an +unimpressionable democracy are apt to be lured by their own curious +ambitions, or those of their women-folk, to spend a great part of their +time in or about the villas of Albion, thus paid for its perfidy; and, +although the anarchists and the bubble-hunters make a noise, it is +enormously out of proportion to their number, which is relatively very +small, and neither the imported nor the exported article can be taken as +characteristic of our country. For the American is one who soon fits any +place, or into any shaped hole in America, where you can set him down. +It may be that without going so far as to suggest the halls of the great +and good and rich, one might mention a number of houses of entertainment +for man and beast in this country, in which Mr. Martin of the Plattville +Dry Goods Emporium would find himself little at ease. But even in the +extreme case, if Mr. Martin were given his choice of being burned to +death, or drowned, or of spending a month at the most stupendously +embellished tavern located in our possessions, and supposing him to +have chosen the third alternate, it is probable that he would have grown +almost accustomed to his surroundings before he died; and if he survived +the month, we may even fancy him really enjoying moments of conversation +with the night-clerks. + +As Mr. Parker observed, Miss Sherwood did not do the Grand Duchess, +giving the Carlow tenants a treat. She felt no duchess symptoms within +herself, and though, of course, she had various manners tucked away to +wear as one suits garments to occasions--and it was a Rouen "party-gown" +wherewith she chose to abash poor John Harkless at their meeting--here +in Carlow, she was a woman of affairs, lively, shrewd, engaging, +capable; she was herself (at least she was that side of herself). And +it should be explained that Harkless had based his calumny regarding the +tariff on a paragraph or two that crept inadvertently into an otherwise +statesmanlike article, and that "H. Fisbee" understood the tariff +as well as any woman who ever lived. But the tariff inspired no more +articles from that pen. + +Rodney McCune had lifted his head, and those who had followed his +stricken enemy felt that the cause was lost, without the leader. The old +ring that the "Herald" had crushed was a ring once more, and the heelers +had rallied--"the boys were in line again." The work had been done +quietly, and Halloway was already beaten, and beaten badly. John +Harkless lay sick, and Rodney McCune would sit in Congress, for the +nomination meant election. But one day the Harkless forces, demoralized, +broken, almost hopeless, woke up to find that they had a leader. Many +of them were content with the belief that this was a young lawyer +named Keating, who had risen up in Amo; but Mr. Keating himself had a +different impression. + +Helen was a little nervous, and very much excited, over the political +conference at Judge Briscoe's. She planned it with careful diplomacy, +and arranged the details with a fine sense of the dramatic. There was +a suggestion she desired to have made in this meeting, which she +wished should emanate from the Amo and Gaines County people, instead of +proceeding from Carlow--for she thought it better to make the outsiders +believe her idea an inspiration of their own--so she made a little +comedy and provided for Briscoe's entrance at an effective moment. The +judge was a substantial influence, strong in the councils of his party +when he chose to be; and though of late years he had contented himself +with voting at the polls, every one knew what weight he carried when he +saw fit to bestir himself. + +When he entered the parlor, he found the politicians in a state of +subdued excitement. Helen sat by the window, blushing, and talking +eagerly to old Fisbee. One of the gentlemen from Gaines County was +walking about the room exclaiming, "A glorious conception! A glorious +conception!" addressing the bric-a-brac, apparently. (He thought the +conception his own.) Mr. Martin was tugging at his beard and whispering +to Landis and Homer, and the two Amo men were consulting in a corner, +but as the judge came in, one of them turned and said loudly, "That's +the man." + +"What man am I, Keating?" asked Briscoe, cheerily. + +"We better explain, I guess," answered the other; and turning to his +compatriot: "You tell him, Boswell." + +"Well--it's this way--" said Boswell, and came at once to an awkward +pause, turning aside sheepishly and unable to proceed. + +"So that's the way of it, is it?" said the old gentleman. + +Helen laughed cheerfully, and looked about her with a courageous and +encouraging eye. "It is embarrassing," she said. "Judge Briscoe, we are +contemplating 'a piece of the blackest treachery and chicanery.' We are +going to give Mr. Halloway the--the go-by!" The embarrassment fell away, +and everybody began to talk at once. + +"Hold on a minute," said the judge; "let's get at it straight. What do +you want with me?" + +"I'll tell you," volunteered Keating. "You see, the boys are getting in +line again for this convention. They are the old file that used to rule +the roost before the 'Herald' got too strong for them, and they rely on +Mr. Harkless's being sick to beat Kedge Halloway with that Gaines +County man, McCune. Now, none of us here want Rod McCune I guess. We had +trouble enough once with him and his heelers, and now that Mr. Harkless +is down, they've taken advantage of it to raise a revolution: Rod McCune +for Congress! He's a dirty-hearted swindler--I hope Miss Sherwood will +pardon the strong expression--and everybody thought the 'Herald' had +driven him out of politics, though it never told how it did it; but +he's up on top again. Now, the question is to beat him. We hold the +committees, but the boys have been fighting the committees--call 'em +the 'Harkless Ring,' and never understood that the 'Herald' would have +turned us down in a second if it thought we weren't straight. Well, +we saw a week ago that Kedge Halloway was going to lose to McCune; we +figured it out pretty exactly, and there ain't a ray of hope for Kedge. +We wrote to Mr. Harkless about it, and asked him to come down--if he'd +been on the ground last Monday and had begun to work, I don't say but +what his personal influence might have saved Halloway--but a friend of +his, where he's staying, answered the letter: said Mr. Harkless was +down with a relapse and was very fretful; and he'd taken the liberty of +reading the letter and temporarily suppressing it under doctor's orders; +they were afraid he'd come, sick as he was, from a sense of duty, and +asked us to withdraw the letter, and referred us to Mr. Harkless's +representative on the 'Herald.' So we applied here to Miss Sherwood, and +that's why we had this meeting. Now, Halloway is honest--everybody knows +that--and I don't say but what he's been the best available material Mr. +Harkless had to send to Washington; but he ain't any too bright----" + +Mr. Martin interrupted the speaker. "I reckon, maybe, you never heard +that lecture of his on the Past, Present, and Future'?" + +"Besides that," Keating continued, "Halloway has had it long enough, +and he's got enough glory out of it, and, except for getting beat by Rod +McCune, I believe he'd almost as soon give it up. Well, we discussed all +this and that, and couldn't come to any conclusion. We didn't want to +keep on with a losing fight if there was any way to put up a winner, +though of course we all recognized that Mr. Harkless would want us to +support Kedge to the death, and that's what he'd do if he was on the +ground. But Miss Sherwood mentioned that she'd had one note since his +last illness began, and he'd entrusted her and her associates on the +paper with the entire policy, and she would take the responsibility for +anything we determined on. Mr. Smith said the only thing to do was +to give up Halloway and get a man that could beat McCune; Kedge would +recognize it himself, that that was the only thing to do, and he could +retire gracefully. Miss Sherwood said she was still more or less a +stranger, and asked what man we could find who was strong enough to do +it by popularity alone and who was also a man we wanted; somebody that +had worked a good deal, but had never had any office. It was to such a +man she could promise the 'Herald's' support, as for a time the paper +was being operated almost independently, it might be said, of Mr. +Harkless. Well, I expect it came to all of us at the same time, but it +was Mr. Bence here that said it first." + +Mr. Bence was the gentleman who had walked about saying "A glorious +conception," and he now thrust one hand into his breast and extended the +other in a wide gesture, and looked as impressive as a very young man +with white eyebrows can look. + +"The name of Harkless," he said abruptly, "the name of Harkless will +sweep the convention like the fire of a Western prairie; the name of +Harkless will thunder over their astonished heads and strike a peal +of joy bells in every home in the district; it will re-echo in the +corridors of posterity and teem with prosperity like a mighty river. +The name of Harkless will reverberate in that convention hall, and they +shall sit ashamed." + +"Harkless!" exclaimed the judge. "Why didn't some one think of that long +ago?" + +"Then you approve?" asked Keating. + +"Yes, I think I do!" + +The Amo man shook hands with him. "We'll swim out," he exclaimed. "It +will be the same everywhere. A lot of the old crowd themselves will be +swept along with us when we make our nomination. People feel that that +Cross-Roads business ought never to have been allowed to happen, +and they'd like to make it up to him some way. There are just two +difficulties, Halloway and Mr. Harkless himself. It's a sure thing that +he wouldn't come out against Kedge and that he'd refuse to let his name +be used against him. Therefore, we've got to keep it quiet from him; the +whole thing has to be worked quietly. The McCune folks were quiet until +they thought they were sure; we've got to be quieter still. Well, we've +made out a plan." + +"And a plan that will operate," added Mr. Bence. "For the name of +Harkless shall--" Mr. Keating interrupted him energetically: + +"We explain it to all the Halloway delegates, you see, and to all the +shaky McCune people, and interview all the undecided ones. The McCune +crowd may see them afterwards, but they can't fix men in this district +against John Harkless. All we've got to do is to pass the word. It's all +kept quiet, you understand. We go into the convention, and the names of +Halloway and McCune are placed before it. Then will come a speech naming +Harkless--and you want to stuff your ears with cotton! On the first +ballot Harkless gets the scattering vote that was going to nominate +McCune if we'd let things run, and Halloway is given every vote he'd +have got if he'd run against McCune alone; it's as a compliment; it will +help him see how things were, afterwards; and on the second ballot his +vote goes to Harkless. There won't be any hitch if we get down to work +right off; it's a mighty short campaign, but we've got big chances. Of +course, it can't be helped that Halloway has to be kept in the dark; he +won't spend any money, anyway." + +"It looks a little underhanded at first glance," said Warren Smith; +"but, as Miss Sherwood said, you've got to be a little underhanded +sometimes, especially when you're dealing with as scrupulous a man as +John Harkless. But it's a perfectly honest deal, and it will be all +right with him when he finds it's all over and he's nominated." + +"It's a plain case," added Boswell. "We want him, and we've got to have +him." + +"There's one danger," Mr. Keating continued. "Kedge Halloway is honest, +but I believe he's selfish enough to disturb his best friend's deathbed +for his own ends, and it's not unlikely that he will get nervous towards +the last and be telegraphing Harkless to have himself carried on a cot +to the convention to save him. That wouldn't do at all, of course, +and Miss Sherwood thinks maybe there'd be less danger if we set the +convention a little ahead of the day appointed. It's dangerous, because +it shortens our time; but we can fix it for three days before the day +we'd settled on, and that will bring it to September 7th. What we want +of you, judge, is to go to the convention as a delegate, and make the +nominating speech for Mr. Harkless. Will you do it?" + +"Do it?" cried the old man, and he struck the table a resounding blow +with his big fist. "Do it? I'd walk from here to Rouen and back again to +do it!" + +They were all on their feet at this, and they pressed forward to shake +Briscoe's hand, congratulating him and each other as though they were +already victorious. Mr. Martin bent over Helen and asked her if she +minded shaking hands with a man who had voted for Shem at the first +election in the Ark. + +"I thought I'd rightly ort to thank you for finishin' off Kedge +Halloway," he added. "I made up my mind I'd never vote for him again, +the night he killed that intellectual insect of his." + +"Intellectual insect, Mr. Martin?" she asked, puzzled. + +He sighed. "The recollection never quits ha'ntin' me. I reckon I haven't +had a restful night since June. Maybe you don't remember his lecture." + +"Oh, but I do," she laughed; "and I remember the story of the fly, +vividly." + +"I never was jest what you might exactly call gushin' over Kedge," +Mr. Martin drawled. "He doesn't strike me as havin' many ideas, +precisely--he had kind of a symptom of one once, that he caught from +Harkless, but it didn't take; it sloshed around in his mind and never +really come out on him. I always thought his brain was sort of syrupy. +Harkless thought there was fruit in it, and I reckon there is; but some +way it never seems to jell." + +"Go on," said Helen gayly. "I want to hear him abused. It helps me to +feel less mean about the way we are treating him." + +"Yes; I'm slickin' over my conscience, too. I feel awnrier about it +because he done me a good turn once, in the Hayes and Wheeler campaign. +I went to a meetin' to hear him speak, and he got sick and couldn't." + +Warren Smith addressed the company. "Well, is this all for the present?" +he asked. "Is everything settled?" + +"Wait a minute," said Keating. "I'd like to hear from the 'Herald' about +its policy, if Miss Sherwood will tell us." + +"Yes, indeed," she answered. "It will be very simple. Don't you think +there is only one course to pursue? We will advocate no one very +energetically, but we will print as much of the truth about Mr. McCune +as we can, with delicacy and honor, in this case, but, as I understand +it, the work is almost all to be done amongst the delegates. We shall +not mention our plan at all--but--but, when the convention is over, and +he is nominated, we will get out an extra; and I am so confident of your +success that I'll tell you now that the extra will be ready the night +before the convention. We will contrive that Mr. Harkless shall not +receive his copy of the paper containing the notice of the change of +date, and I think the chance of his seeing it in any Rouen paper may be +avoided. That is all, I think." + +"Thank you," said Keating. "That is certainly the course to follow." +Every one nodded, or acquiesced in words; and Keating and Bence came +over to Helen and engaged her in conversation. The others began to look +about for their hats, vaguely preparing to leave. + +"Wait a minute," said the judge. "There's no train due just now." And +Minnie appeared in the doorway with a big pitcher of crab-apple cider, +rich and amber-hued, sparkling, cold, and redolent of the sweet-smelling +orchard where it was born. Behind Miss Briscoe came Mildy Upton with +glasses and a fat, shaking, four-storied jelly-cake on a second +tray. The judge passed his cigars around, and the gentlemen took them +blithely, then hesitatingly held them in their fingers and glanced at +the ladies, uncertain of permission. + +"Let me get you some matches," Helen said, quickly, and found a box on +the table and handed it to Keating. Every one sat beaming, and fragrant +veils of smoke soon draped the room. + +"Why do you call her 'Miss Sherwood'?" Boswell whispered in Keating's +ear. + +"That's her name." + +"Ain't she the daughter of that old fellow over there by the window? +Ain't her name Fisbee?" + +"No; she's his daughter, but her legal name's Sherwood; she's an +adop----" + +"Great Scott! I know all about that. I'd like to know if there's a man, +woman, or child in this part of the country that doesn't. I guess it +won't be Fisbee or Sherwood either very long. She can easy get a new +name, _that_ lady! And if she took a fancy to Boswell, why, I'm a +bach----" + +"I expect she won't take a fancy to Boswell very early," said Keating. +"They say it will be Harkless." + +"Go 'way," returned Mr. Boswell. "What do you want to say that for? +Can't you bear for anybody to be happy a minute or two, now and then?" + +Warren Smith approached Helen and inquired if it would be asking too +much if they petitioned her for some music; so she went to the piano, +and sang some darky songs for them, with a quaint suggestion of the +dialect--two or three old-fashioned negro melodies of Foster's, followed +by some rollicking modern imitations with the movement and spirit of +a tinshop falling down a flight of stairs. Her audience listened in +delight from the first; but the latter songs quite overcame them with +pleasure and admiration, and before she finished, every head in the +room was jogging from side to side, and forward and back, in time to the +music, while every foot shuffled the measures on the carpet. + +When the gentlemen from out of town discovered that it was time to leave +if they meant to catch their train, Helen called to them to wait, and +they gathered about her. + +"Just one second," she said, and she poured all the glasses full to the +brim; then, standing in the centre of the circle they made around her, +she said: + +"Before you go, shan't we pledge each other to our success in this +good, home-grown Indiana cider, that leaves our heads clear and our arms +strong? If you will--then--" She began to blush furiously and her voice +trembled, but she lifted the glass high over her head and cried bravely, +"Here's to 'Our Candidate'!" + +The big men, towering over her, threw back their heads and quaffed the +gentle liquor to the last drop. Then they sent up the first shout of the +campaign, and cheered John Harkless till the rafters rang. + +"My friends," said Mr. Keating, as he and Boswell and the men from +Gaines drove away in Judd Bennett's omnibus, "my friends, here is where +I begin the warmest hustling I ever did. I want Harkless, everybody +wants him----" + +"It is a glorious idea," said Mr. Bence. "The name of Harkless----" + +Keating drowned the oratory. "But that isn't all. That little girl wants +him to go to Congress, and that settles it. He goes." + +That evening Minnie and her father were strolling up and down the front +walk together, between the flowered borders. + +"Do you give up?" asked the judge. + +"Give up what? No!" returned his daughter. + +"She hasn't told you?" + +"Not yet; she and Mr. Fisbee left for the office right after those men +went." + +"Haven't you discovered what the 'something about politics' she's doing +for him is? Did you understand what she meant by 'Our Candidate'?" + +"Not exactly." + +"Did you see her blush when she proposed that toast?" + +"Yes. So would anybody--with all those men, and their eyes hanging out +on their cheeks!" + +"Pooh! She got up the whole show. Do you know why?" + +"I only know it's politics." + +"Politics!" He glanced over his shoulder, and then, leaning toward her, +he said, in a low tone: "I'll tell you in confidence, Minnie; she's +sending him to Congress!" + +"Ah!" she cried triumphantly. "If she loved him she wouldn't do _that_, +would she?" + +"Minnie!" Briscoe turned upon her sternly. "I don't want to hear any +more talk like that. It's the way with some papers to jibe at our great +institutions, and you've been reading them; that's the trouble with you. +The only criticism any one has any business making against Congress is +that it's too good for some of the men we send there. Congress is our +great virtue, understand; the congressmen are our fault." + +"I didn't mean anything like that," protested the girl. "I haven't been +reading any papers except the 'Herald.' I meant why should she send him +away if she cared about him?" + +"She'll go with him." + +"They couldn't both go. What would become of the 'Herald'?" + +"They'd fix that easy enough; there are plenty of smart young fellows in +Rouen they could get to run it while they are in Washington." + +"Mr. Harkless is sure to be elected, is he?" + +"He is, if he's nominated." + +"Can't he get the nomination?" + +"Get it! Nobody ever happened to think of him for it till it came into +_her_ head; and the only thing I look to see standing in the way of it +is Harkless himself; but I expect we can leave it to her to manage, and +I guess she will. She's got more diplomacy than Blaine. Kedge Halloway +is up the spout all right, but they want to keep it quiet; that's why +she had them come here instead of the office." + +"She wouldn't marry him a minute sooner because he went to Congress," +said Minnie thoughtfully. + +"You're giving up," he exclaimed. "You know I'm right." + +"Wait and see. It might--No, you're wrong as wrong can be! I wish you +weren't. Don't you see? You're blind. She _couldn't_ do all these +things for him if she loved him. That's the very proof itself. I suppose +you--well, you can't understand." + +"I'll tell you one thing," he returned. "If she doesn't, the rest of it +won't amount to a rip with John Harkless." + +"Yes, it will. Nobody could help liking to find himself as big a man as +he'll be when he comes back here. Besides, don't you see, it's her way +of making it up to him for not liking him as much as he wants. _You_ +give up, don't you?" + +"No," he cried, with feeble violence, "I don't. She'll find out some +things about herself when she sees him again." + +Minnie shook her head. + +There was a sound of wheels; the buckboard drew up at the gate, and +Helen, returning from her evening's labor, jumped out lightly, and ran +around to pat the horses' heads. "Thank you so much, Mr. Willetts," she +said to the driver. "I know you will handle the two delegates you are +to look after as well as you do the judge's team; and you ought to, you +know, because the delegates are men. You dears!" She stroked the sleek +necks of the colts and handed them bunches of grass. + +Briscoe came out, and let the friendly animals nose his shoulder as he +looked gravely down on the piquant face beside him in the dusk. "Young +lady," he said, "go East. Wait till we get on to Washington, and sit in +the gallery, and see John Harkless rise up in his place, and hear the +Speaker say: 'The Gentleman from Indiana!' I know the chills would go +up and down my spine, and I guess you'd feel pretty well paid for your +day's work. I guess we all would." + +"Aren't you tired, Helen?" asked Minnie, coming to her in the darkness +and clasping her waist. + +"Tired? No; I'm happy. Did you ever see the stars so bright?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. THE TREACHERY OF H. FISBEE + +An Indiana town may lie asleep a long time, but there always comes a day +when it wakes up; and Plattville had wakened in August when the "Herald" +became a daily and Eph Watts struck oil. It was then that history began +to be made. The "Herald" printed News, and the paper was sold every +morning at stands in all the towns in that section of the State. Its +circulation tripled. Parker talked of new presses; two men were added to +his staff, and a reporter was brought from Rouen to join Mr. Fisbee. The +"Herald" boomed the oil-field; people swarmed into town; the hotel was +crowded; strangers became no sensation whatever. A capitalist bought the +whole north side of the Square to erect new stores, and the Carlow Bank +began the construction of a new bank building of Bedford stone on Main +Street. Then it was whispered, next affirmed, that the "Herald" had +succeeded in another of its enterprises, and Main Street was to be +asphalted. That was the end of the "old days" of Plattville. + +There was a man who had laid the foundation upon which the new +Plattville was to be built; he who, through the quiet labor of years, +had stamped his spirit upon the people, as their own was stamped upon +him; but he lay sick in his friend's house and did not care. One day +Meredith found him propped up in bed, reading a letter--reading it +listlessly, and with a dull eye. + +"PLATTVILLE, _September 1st_. + +"_Dear Mr. Harkless_: Yours of the 30th received. Every one here is very +glad to know that your health is so far improved as to admit of your +writing; and it is our strongest hope that you will soon be completely +recovered. + +"New subscriptions are coming in at a slightly advanced rate since my +last letter; you will see they are distributed over several counties, +when you examine the books on your return; and I am glad to state that +with our arrangement for Gainesville the 'Herald' is now selling every +morning at a prominent store in all the towns within the radius we +determined on. Our plan of offering the daily with no advance on the +price of the former tri-weekly issue proves a success. I now propose +making the issue a quarto every day (at the same price) instead of once +a week. I think our experience warrants the experiment. It is my belief +that our present circulation will be increased forty per cent. Please +advise me if you approve. Of course this would mean a further increase +of our working force, and we should have to bring another man +from Rouen--possibly two more--but I think we need not fear such +enlargements. + +"I should tell you that I have taken you at your word entrusting me +with the entire charge of your interests here, and I had the store-room +adjoining the office put in shape, and offered it to the telegraph +company for half the rent they were paying in their former quarters over +the post-office. They have moved in; and this, in addition to giving us +our despatches direct, is a reduction of expense. + +"Mr. Watts informs me that the Standard's offer is liberal and the terms +are settled. The boom is not hollow, it is simply an awakening; and the +town, so long a dependent upon the impetus of agriculture or its trade, +is developing a prosperity of its own on other lines as well. Strangers +come every day; oil has lubricated every commercial joint. Contracts +have been let for three new brick business buildings to be erected on +the east side of the Square. The value of your Main Street frontage will +have doubled by December, and possibly you may see fit to tear away the +present building and put up another, instead; the investment might be +profitable. The 'Herald' could find room on the second and third floors, +and the first could be let to stores. + +"I regret that you find your copy of the paper for the 29th overlooked +in the mail and that your messenger could find none for you at the +newspaper offices in Rouen. Mr. Schofield was given directions in regard +to supplying you with the missing issue at once. + +"I fear that you may have had difficulty in deciphering some of my +former missives, as I was unfamiliar with the typewriter when I took +charge of the 'Herald'; however, I trust that you find my later letters +more legible. + +"The McCune people are not worrying us; we are sure to defeat them. The +papers you speak of were found by Mr. Parker in your trunk, and are now +in my hands. + +"I send with this a packet of communications and press clippings +indicative of the success of the daily, and in regard to other +innovations. The letters from women commendatory of our 'Woman's Page,' +thanking us for various house-keeping receipts, etc., strike me as +peculiarly interesting, as I admit that a 'Woman's Page' is always a +difficult matter for a man to handle without absurdity. + +"Please do not think I mean to plume myself upon our various successes; +we attempted our innovations and enlargements at just the right time--a +time which you had ripened by years of work and waiting, and at the +moment when you had built up the reputation of the 'Herald' to its +highest point. Everything that has been done is successful only because +you paved the way, and because every one knows it is your paper; and the +people believe that whatever your paper does is interesting and right. + +"Trusting that your recovery will be rapid, I am + +"Yours truly, + +"H. FISBEE." + +Harkless dropped the typewritten sheets with a sigh. + +"I suppose I ought to get well," he said wearily. + +"Yes," said Meredith, "I think you ought; but you're chock full of +malaria and fever and all kinds of meanness, and----" + +"You 'tend to your own troubles," returned the other, with an imitation +of liveliness. "I--I don't think it interests me much," he said +querulously. He was often querulous of late, and it frightened Tom. "I'm +just tired. I am strong enough--that is, I think I am till I try to move +around, and then I'm like a log, and a lethargy gets me--that's it; I +don't think it's malaria; it's lethargy." + +"Lethargy comes from malaria." + +"It's the other way with me. I'd be all right if I only could get over +this--this tiredness. Let me have that pencil and pad, will you, please, +Tom?" + +He set the pad on his knee, and began to write languidly: + + "ROUEN, _September 2d_. + +"_Dear Mr. Fisbee_: Yours of the 1st to hand. I entirely approve all +arrangements you have made. I think you understand that I wish you to +regard _everything_ as in your own hands. You are the editor of the +'Herald' and have the sole responsibility for everything, including +policy, until, after proper warning, I relieve you in person. But until +that time comes, you must look upon me as a mere spectator. I do not +fear that you will make any mistakes; you have done very much better in +all matters than I could have done myself. At present I have only +one suggestion: I observe that your editorials concerning Halloway's +renomination are something lukewarm. + +"It is very important that he be renominated, not altogether on account +of assuring his return to Washington (for he is no Madison, I fear), but +the fellow McCune must be so beaten that his defeat will be remembered +for twenty years. Halloway is honest and clean, at least, while McCune +is corrupt to the bone. He has been bought and sold, and I am glad the +proofs of it are in your hands, as you tell me Parker found them, as +directed, in my trunk, and gave them to you. + +"The papers you hold drove him out of politics once, by the mere threat +of publication; you should have printed them last week, as I suggested. +Do so at once; the time is short. You have been too gentle; it has +the air of fearing to offend, and of catering, as if we were afraid of +antagonizing people against us; as though we had a personal stake in the +convention. Possibly you consider our subscription books as such; I do +not. But if they are, go ahead twice as hard. What if it does give the +enemy a weapon in case McCune is nominated; if he is (and I begin to +see a danger of it) we will be with the enemy. I do not carry my +partisanship so far as to help elect Mr. McCune to Congress. You have +been as non-committal in your editorials as if this were a fit time for +delicacy and the cheaper conception of party policy. My notion of party +policy--no new one--is that the party which considers the public +service before it considers itself will thrive best in the long run. The +'Herald' is a little paper (not so little nowadays, after all, thanks to +you), but it is an honest one, and it isn't afraid of Rod McCune and his +friends. He is to be beaten, understand, if we have to send him to the +penitentiary on an old issue to do it. And if the people wish to believe +us cruel or vengeful, let them. Please let me see as hearty a word as +you can say for Halloway, also. You can write with ginger; please show +some in this matter. + +"My condition is improved. + + "I am, very truly yours, + + "JOHN HARKLESS." + +When the letter was concluded, he handed it to Meredith. "Please address +that, put a 'special' on it, and send it, Tom. It should go at once, so +as to reach him by to-night." + +"H. Fisbee?" + +"Yes; H. Fisbee." + +"I believe it does you good to write, boy," said the other, as he bent +over him. "You look more chirrupy than you have for several days." + +"It's that beast, McCune; young Fisbee is rather queer about it, and +I felt stirred up as I went along." But even before the sentence was +finished the favor of age and utter weariness returned, and the dark +lids closed over his eyes. They opened again, slowly, and he took the +others hand and looked up at him mournfully, but as it were his soul +shone forth in dumb and eloquent thanks. + +"I--I'm giving you a jolly summer, Tom," he said, with a quivering +effort to smile. "Don't you think I am? I don't--I don't know what I +should have--done----" + +"You old Indian!" said Meredith, tenderly. + +Three days later, Tom was rejoiced by symptoms of invigoration in his +patient. A telegram came for Harkless, and Meredith, bringing it into +the sick room, was surprised to find the occupant sitting straight up on +his couch without the prop of pillows. He was reading the day's copy of +the "Herald," and his face was flushed and his brow stern. + +"What's the matter, boy?" + +"Mismanagement, I hope," said the other, in a strong voice. "Worse, +perhaps. It's this young Fisbee. I can't think what's come over the +fellow. I thought he was a rescuing angel, and he's turning out bad. +I'll swear it looks like they'd been--well, I won't say that yet. But +he hasn't printed that McCune business I told you of, and he's had two +days. There is less than a week before the convention, and--" He broke +off, seeing the yellow envelope in Meredith's hand. "Is that a telegram +for me?" His companion gave it to him. He tore it open and read the +contents. They were brief and unhappy. + +"Can't you do something? Can't you come down? It begins to look the +other way. + +"K. H." + + +"It's from Halloway," said John. "I have got to go. What did that doctor +say?" + +"He said two weeks at the earliest, or you'll run into typhoid and +complications from your hurts, and even pleasanter things than that. +I've got you here, and here you stay; so lie back and get easy, boy." + +"Then give me that pad and pencil." He rapidly dashed off a note to H. +Fisbee: + +"_September 5th_. + +"H. FISBEE, + +"Editor 'Carlow Herald.' + +"_Dear Sir_: You have not acknowledged my letter of the 2d September by +a note (which should have reached me the following morning), or by +the alteration in the tenor of my columns which I requested, or by the +publication of the McCune papers which I directed. In this I hold you +grossly at fault. If you have a conscientious reason for refusing to +carry out my request it should have been communicated to me at once, +as should the fact--if such be the case--that you are a personal (or +impersonal, if you like) friend of Mr. Rodney McCune. Whatever the +motive, ulterior or otherwise, which prevents you from operating my +paper as I direct, I should have been informed of it. This is a matter +vital to the interests of our community, and you have hitherto shown +yourself too alert in accepting my slightest suggestion for me to +construe this failure as negligence. Negligence I might esteem as at +least honest and frank; your course has been neither the one nor the +other. + +"You will receive this letter by seven this evening by special delivery. +You will print the facts concerning McCune in to-morrow morning's paper. + +"I am well aware of the obligations under which your extreme efficiency +and your thoughtfulness in many matters have placed me. It is to you I +owe my unearned profits from the transaction in oil, and it is to you +I owe the 'Herald's' extraordinary present circulation, growth of power +and influence. That power is still under my direction, and is an added +responsibility which shall not be misapplied. + +"You must forgive me if I write too sharply. You see I have failed to +understand your silence; and if I wrong you I heartily ask your pardon +in advance of your explanation. Is it that you are sorry for McCune? It +would be a weak pity that could keep you to silence. I warned him long +ago that the papers you hold would be published if he ever tried to +return to political life, and he is deliberately counting on my physical +weakness and absence. Let him rely upon it; I am not so weak as he +thinks. Personally, I cannot say that I dislike Mr. McCune. I have found +him a very entertaining fellow; it is said he is the best of husbands, +and a friend to some of his friends, and, believe me, I am sorry for him +from the bottom of my heart. But the 'Herald' is not. + +"You need not reply by letter. To-morrow's issue answers for you. Until +I have received a copy, I withhold my judgment. + +"JOHN HARKLESS." + +The morrow's issue--that fateful print on which depended John Harkless's +opinion of H. Fisbee's integrity--contained an editorial addressed +to the delegates of the convention, warning them to act for the vital +interest of the community, and declaring that the opportunity to be +given them in the present convention was a rare one, a singular piece of +good fortune indeed; they were to have the chance to vote for a man who +had won the love and respect of every person in the district--one who +had suffered for his championship of righteousness--one whom even his +few political enemies confessed they held in personal affection and +esteem--one who had been the inspiration of a new era--one whose life +had been helpfulness, whose hand had reached out to every struggler +and unfortunate--a man who had met and faced danger for the sake of +others--one who lived under a threat for years, and who had been almost +overborne in the fulfilment of that threat, but who would live to see +the sun shine on his triumph, the tribute the convention would bring +him as a gift from a community that loved him. His name needed not to be +told; it was on every lip that morning, and in every heart. + +Tom was eagerly watching his companion as he read. Harkless fell back +on the pillows with a drawn face, and for a moment he laid his thin hand +over his eyes in a gesture of intense pain. + +"What is it?" Meredith said quickly. + +"Give me the pad, please." + +"What is it, boy?" + +The other's teeth snapped together. + +"What is it?" he cried. "What is it? It's treachery, and the worst I +ever knew. Not a word of the accusation I demanded--lying _praises_ +instead! Read that editorial--there, _there_!" He struck the page +with the back of his hand, and threw the paper to Meredith. "Read that +miserable lie! 'One who has won the love and respect of every person +in the district!'--'One who has suffered for his championship of +righteousness!' _Righteousness!_ Save the mark!" + +"What does it mean?" + +"Mean! It means McCune--Rod McCune, 'who has lived under a threat for +years'--_my_ threat! I swore I would print him out of Indiana if he ever +raised his head again, and he knew I could. 'Almost overborne in the +fulfilment of that threat!' _Almost_! It's a black scheme, and I see it +now. This man came to Plattville and went on the 'Herald' for nothing +in the world but this. It's McCune's hand all along. He daren't name +him even now, the coward! The trick lies between McCune and young +Fisbee--the old man is innocent. Give me the pad. Not _almost_ +overborne. There are three good days to work in, and, by the gods +of Perdition, if Rod McCune sees Congress it will be in his next +incarnation!" + +He rapidly scribbled a few lines on the pad, and threw the sheets to +Meredith. "Get those telegrams to the Western Union office in a rush, +please. Read them first." + +With a very red face Tom read them. One was addressed to H. Fisbee: + +"You are relieved from the cares of editorship. You will turn over the +management of the 'Herald' to Warren Smith. You will give him the McCune +papers. If you do not, or if you destroy them, you cannot hide where I +shall not find you. + + "JOHN HARKLESS." + +The second was to Warren Smith: "Take possession 'Herald.' Dismiss H. +Fisbee. This your authority. Publish McCune papers so labelled which H. +Fisbee will hand you. Letter follows. Beat McCune. + + "JOHN HARKLESS." + +The author of the curt epistles tossed restlessly on his couch, but +the reader of them stared, incredulous and dumfounded, uncertain of +his command of gravity. His jaw fell, and his open mouth might have +betokened a being smit to imbecility; and, haply, he might be, for Helen +had written him from Plattville, pledging his honor to secrecy with the +first words, and it was by her command that he had found excuses for +not supplying his patient with all the papers which happened to contain +references to the change of date for the Plattville convention. And +Meredith had known for some time where James Fisbee had found a "young +relative" to be the savior of the "Herald" for his benefactor's sake. + +"You mean--you--intend to--you discharge young Fisbee?" he stammered at +last. + +"Yes! Let me have the answers the instant they come, will you, Tom?" +Then Harkless turned his face from the wall and spoke through his teeth: +"I mean to see H. Fisbee before many days; I want to talk to him!" + +But, though he tossed and fretted himself into what the doctor +pronounced a decidedly improved state, no answer came to either telegram +that day or night. The next morning a messenger boy stumbled up the +front steps and handed the colored man, Jim, four yellow envelopes, +night messages. Three of them were for Harkless, one was for Meredith. +Jim carried them upstairs, left the three with his master's guest, then +knocked on his master's door. + +"What is it?" answered a thick voice. Meredith had not yet risen. + +"A telegraph. Mist' Tawm." + +There was a terrific yawn. "O-o-oh! Slide it--oh--under the--door." + +"Yessuh." + +Meredith lay quite without motion for several minutes, sleepily watching +the yellow rhomboid in the crevice. It was a hateful looking thing to +come mixing in with pleasant dreams and insist upon being read. After a +while he climbed groaningly out of bed, and read the message with heavy +eyes, still half asleep. He read it twice before it penetrated: + +"Suppress all newspapers to-day. Convention meets at eleven. If we +succeed a delegation will come to Rouen this afternoon. They will come. + + "HELEN." + + +Tom rubbed his sticky eyelids, and shook his head violently in a Spartan +effort to rouse himself; but what more effectively performed the task +for him were certain sounds issuing from Harkless's room, across the +hall. For some minutes, Meredith had been dully conscious of a rustle +and stir in the invalid's chamber, and he began to realize that no mere +tossing about a bed would account for a noise that reached him across +a wide hall and through two closed doors of thick walnut. Suddenly he +heard a quick, heavy tread, shod, in Harkless's room, and a resounding +bang, as some heavy object struck the floor. The doctor was not to come +till evening; Jim had gone down-stairs. Who wore shoes in the sick +man's room? He rushed across the hall in his pyjamas and threw open the +unlocked door. + +The bed was disarranged and vacant. Harkless, fully dressed, was +standing in the middle of the floor, hurling garments at a big +travelling bag. + +The horrified Meredith stood for a second, bleached and speechless, then +he rushed upon his friend and seized him with both hands. + +"Mad, by heaven! Mad!" + +"Let go of me, Tom!" + +"Lunatic! Lunatic!" + +"Don't stop me one instant!" + +Meredith tried to force him toward the bed. "For mercy's sake, get back +to bed. You're delirious, boy!" + +"Delirious nothing. I'm a well man." + +"Go to bed--go to bed." + +Harkless set him out of the way with one arm. "Bed be hanged!" he cried. +"I'm going to Plattville!" + +Meredith wrung his hands. "The doctor----"! + +"Doctor be damned!" + +"Will you tell me what has happened, John?" + +His companion slung a light overcoat, unfolded, on the overflowing, +misshapen bundle of clothes that lay in the bag; then he jumped on the +lid with both feet and kicked the hasp into the lock; a very elegantly +laundered cuff and white sleeve dangling out from between the fastened +lids. "I haven't one second to talk, Tom; I have seventeen minutes to +catch the express, and it's a mile and a half to the station; the train +leaves here at eight fifty, I get to Plattville at ten forty-seven. +Telephone for a cab for me, please, or tell me the number; I don't want +to stop to hunt it up." + +Meredith looked him in the eyes. In the pupils of Harkless flared a +fierce light. His cheeks were reddened with an angry, healthy glow, and +his teeth were clenched till the line of his jaw stood out like that +of an embattled athlete in sculpture; his brow was dark; his chest was +thrown out, and he took deep, quick breaths; his shoulders were squared, +and in spite of his thinness they looked massy. Lethargy, or malaria, or +both, whatever were his ailments, they were gone. He was six feet of hot +wrath and cold resolution. + +Tom said: "You are going?" + +"Yes," he answered, "I am going." + +"Then I will go with you." + +"Thank you, Tom," said the other quietly. + +Meredith ran into his own room, pressed an electric button, sprang out +of his pyjamas like Aphrodite from the white sea-foam, and began to dive +into his clothes with a panting rapidity astonishingly foreign to his +desire. Jim appeared in the doorway. + +"The cart, Jim," shouted his master. "We want it like lightning. Tell +the cook to give Mr. Harkless his breakfast in a hurry. Set a cup of +coffee on the table by the front door for me. Run like the deuce! We've +got to catch a train.--That will be quicker than any cab," he explained +to Harkless. "We'll break the ordinance against fast driving, getting +down there." + +Ten minutes later the cart swept away from the house at a gait which +pained the respectable neighborhood. The big horse plunged through the +air, his ears laid flat toward his tail; the cart careened sickeningly; +the face of the servant clutching at the rail in the rear was smeared +with pallor as they pirouetted around curves on one wheel--to him it +seemed they skirted the corners and Death simultaneously--and the speed +of their going made a strong wind in their faces. + +Harkless leaned forward. + +"Can you make it a little faster, Tom?" he said. + +They dashed up to the station amid the cries of people flying to the +walls for safety; the two gentlemen leaped from the cart, bore down upon +the ticket-office, stormed at the agent, and ran madly at the gates, +flourishing their passports. The official on duty eyed them wearily, and +barred the way. + +"Been gone two minutes," he remarked, with a peaceable yawn. + +Harkless stamped his foot on the cement flags; then he stood stock +still, gazing at the empty tracks; but Meredith turned to him, smiling. + +"Won't it keep?" he asked. + +"Yes, it will keep," John answered. "Part of it may have to keep till +election day, but some of it I will settle before night. And that," he +cried, between his teeth, "and that is the part of it in regard to young +Mr. Fisbee!" + +"Oh, it's about H. Fisbee, is it?" + +"Yes, it's H. Fisbee." + +"Well, we might as well go up and see what the doctor thinks of you; +there's no train." + +"I don't want to see a doctor again, ever--as long as I live. I'm as +well as anybody." + +Tom burst out laughing, and clapped his companion lightly on the +shoulder, his eyes dancing with pleasure. + +"Upon my soul," he cried, "I believe you are! It's against all my +tradition, and I see I am the gull of poetry; for I've always believed +it to be beyond question that this sort of miracle was wrought, not by +rage, but by the tenderer senti--" Tom checked himself. "Well, let's +take a drive." + +"Meredith," said the other, turning to him gravely, "you may think me a +fool, if you will, and it's likely I am; but I don't leave this station +except by train. I've only two days to work in, and every minute lessens +our chances to beat McCune, and I have to begin by wasting time on a +tussle with a traitor. There's another train at eleven fifty-five; I +don't take any chances on missing that one." + +"Well, well," laughed his friend, pushing him good-humoredly toward a +door by a red and white striped pillar, "we'll wait here, if you like; +but at least go in there and get a shave; it's a clean shop. You want to +look your best if you are going down to fight H. Fisbee." + +"Take these, then, and you will understand," said Harkless; and +he thrust his three telegrams of the morning into Tom's hand and +disappeared into the barber-shop. When he was gone, Meredith went to the +telegraph office in the station, and sent a line over the wire to Helen: + +"Keep your delegation at home. He's coming on the 11.55." + +Then he read the three telegrams Harkless had given him. They were all +from Plattville: + +"Sorry cannot oblige. Present incumbent tenacious. Unconditionally +refuses surrender. Delicate matter. No hope for K. H. But don't worry. +Everything all right. + + "WARREN SMITH." + + +"Harkless, if you have the strength to walk, come down before the +convention. Get here by 10.47. Looks bad. Come if it kills you. + + "K. H." + +"You entrusted me with sole responsibility for all matters pertaining +to 'Herald.' Declared yourself mere spectator. Does this permit your +interfering with my policy for the paper? Decline to consider any +proposition to relieve me of my duties without proper warning and +allowance of time. + + "H. FISBEE." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE GREAT HARKLESS COMES HOME + +The accommodation train wandered languidly through the early afternoon +sunshine, stopping at every village and almost every country post-office +on the line; the engine toot-tooting at the road crossings; and, now and +again, at such junctures, a farmer, struggling with a team of prancing +horses, would be seen, or, it might be, a group of school children, +homeward bound from seats of learning. At each station, when the train +came to a stand-still, some passenger, hanging head and elbows out of +his window, like a quilt draped over a chair, would address a citizen on +the platform: + +"Hey, Sam, how's Miz Bushkirk?" + +"She's wal." + +"Where's Milt, this afternoon?" + +"Warshing the buggy." Then at the cry, "All 'board"--"See you Sunday +over at Amo." + +"You make Milt come. I'll be there, shore. So long." + +There was an impatient passenger in the smoker, who found the stoppages +at these wayside hamlets interminable, both in frequency and in the +delay at each of them; and while the dawdling train remained inert, and +the moments passed inactive, his eyes dilated and his hand clenched till +the nails bit his palm; then, when the trucks groaned and the wheels +crooned against the rails once more, he sank back in his seat with +sighs of relief. Sometimes he would get up and pace the aisle until his +companion reminded him that this was not certain to hasten the hour of +their arrival at their destination. + +"I know that," answered the other, "but I've got to beat McCune." + +"By the way," observed Meredith, "you left your stick behind." + +"You don't think I need a club to face----" + +Tom choked. "Oh, no. I wasn't thinking of your giving H. Fisbee a +thrashing. I meant to lean on." + +"I don't want it. I've got to walk lame all my life, but I'm not going +to hobble on a stick." Tom looked at him sadly; for it was true, and the +Cross-Roaders might hug themselves in their cells over the thought. For +the rest of his life John Harkless was to walk with just the limp they +themselves would have had, if, as in former days, their sentence had +been to the ball and chain. + +The window was open beside the two young men, and the breeze swept in, +fresh from the wide fields, There was a tang in the air; it soothed like +a balm, but there was a spur to energy and heartiness in its crispness, +the wholesome touch of fall. John looked out over the boundless aisles +of corn that stood higher than a tall man could reach; long waves +rippled across them. Here, where the cry of the brave had rung in forest +glades, where the painted tribes had hastened, were marshalled the +tasselled armies of peace. And beyond these, where the train ran between +shadowy groves, delicate landscape vistas, framed in branches, opened, +closed, and succeeded each other, and then the travellers were carried +out into the level open again, and the intensely blue September skies +ran down to the low horizon, meeting the tossing plumes of corn. + +It takes a long time for the full beauty of the flat lands to reach a +man's soul; once there, nor hills, nor sea, nor growing fan leaves of +palm shall suffice him. It is like the beauty in the word "Indiana." It +may be that there are people who do not consider "Indiana" a beautiful +word; but once it rings true in your ears it has a richer sound than +"Vallombrosa." + +There was a newness in the atmosphere that day, a bright invigoration, +that set the blood tingling. The hot months were done with, languor was +routed. Autumn spoke to industry, told of the sowing of another harvest, +of the tawny shock, of the purple grape, of the red apple, and called +upon muscle and laughter; breathed gaiety into men's hearts. The little +stations hummed with bustle and noise; big farm wagons rattled away and +raced with cut-under or omnibus; people walked with quick steps; the +baggage-masters called cheerily to the trainmen, and the brakemen +laughed good-bys to rollicking girls. + +As they left Gainesville three children, clad in calico, barefoot and +bareheaded, came romping out of a log cabin on the outskirts of the +town, and waved their hands to the passengers. They climbed on the +sagging gate in front of their humble domain, and laughed for joy to see +the monstrous caravan come clattering out of the unknown, bearing the +faces by. The smallest child, a little cherubic tow-head, whose cheeks +were smeared with clean earth and the tracks of forgotten tears, stood +upright on a fence-post, and blew the most impudent of kisses to the +strangers on a journey. + +Beyond this they came into a great plain, acres and acres of green +rag-weed where the wheat had grown, all so flat one thought of an +enormous billiard table, and now, where the railroad crossed the country +roads, they saw the staunch brown thistle, sometimes the sumach, +and always the graceful iron-weed, slender, tall, proud, bowing a +purple-turbaned head, or shaking in an agony of fright when it stood +too close to the train. The fields, like great, flat emeralds set in +new metal, were bordered with golden-rod, and at sight of this the heart +leaped; for the golden-rod is a symbol of stored granaries, of ripe +sheaves, of the kindness of the season generously given and abundantly +received; more, it is the token of a land of promise and of bounteous +fulfilment; and the plant stains its blossom with yellow so that when it +falls it pays tribute to the ground which has nourished it. + +From the plain they passed again into a thick wood, where ruddy arrows +of the sun glinted among the boughs; and, here and there, one saw a +courtly maple or royal oak wearing a gala mantle of crimson and +pale brown, gallants of the forest preparing early for the October +masquerade, when they should hold wanton carnival, before they stripped +them of their finery for pious gray. + +And when the coughing engine drew them to the borders of this wood, they +rolled out into another rich plain of green and rust-colored corn; and +far to the south John Harkless marked a winding procession of sycamores, +which, he knew, followed the course of a slender stream; and the waters +of the stream flowed by a bank where wild thyme might have grown, and +where, beyond an orchard and a rose-garden, a rustic bench was placed in +the shade of the trees; and the name of the stream was Hibbard's Creek. +Here the land lay flatter than elsewhere; the sky came closer, with a +gentler benediction; the breeze blew in, laden with keener spices; +there was the flavor of apples and the smell of the walnut and a hint +of coming frost; the immeasurable earth lay more patiently to await the +husbandman; and the whole world seemed to extend flat in line with the +eye--for this was Carlow County. + +All at once the anger ran out of John Harkless; he was a hard man for +anger to tarry with. And in place of it a strong sense of home-coming +began to take possession of him. He was going home. "Back to Plattville, +where I belong," he had said; and he said it again without bitterness, +for it was the truth. "Every man cometh to his own place in the end." + +Yes, as one leaves a gay acquaintance of the playhouse lobby for +some hard-handed, tried old friend, so he would wave the outer world +God-speed and come back to the old ways of Carlow. What though the years +were dusty, he had his friends and his memories and his old black brier +pipe. He had a girl's picture that he should carry in his heart till his +last day; and if his life was sadder, it was infinitely richer for it. +His winter fireside should be not so lonely for her sake; and losing +her, he lost not everything, for he had the rare blessing of having +known her. And what man could wish to be healed of such a hurt? Far +better to have had it than to trot a smug pace unscathed. + +He had been a dullard; he had lain prostrate in the wretchedness of his +loss. "A girl you could put in your hat--and there you have a strong +man prone." He had been a sluggard, weary of himself, unfit to fight, a +failure in life and a failure in love. That was ended; he was tired of +failing, and it was time to succeed for a while. To accept the worst +that Fate can deal, and to wring courage from it instead of despair, +that is success; and it was the success that he would have. He would +take Fate by the neck. But had it done him unkindness? He looked out +over the beautiful, "monotonous" landscape, and he answered heartily, +"No!" There was ignorance in man, but no unkindness; were man utterly +wise he were utterly kind. The Cross-Roaders had not known better; that +was all. + +The unfolding aisles of corn swam pleasantly before John's eyes. The +earth hearkened to man's wants and answered; the clement sun and summer +rains hastened the fruition. Yonder stood the brown haystack, garnered +to feed the industrious horse who had earned his meed; there was the +straw-thatched shelter for the cattle. How the orchard boughs bent with +their burdens! The big red barns stood stored with the harvested wheat; +and, beyond the pasture-lands, tall trees rose against the benign sky to +feed the glance of a dreamer; the fertile soil lay lavender and glossy +in the furrow. The farmhouses were warmly built and hale and strong; no +winter blast should rage so bitterly as to shake them, or scatter the +hospitable embers on the hearth. For this was Carlow County, and he was +coming home. + +They crossed a by-road. An old man with a streaky gray chin-beard was +sitting on a sack of oats in a seatless wagon, waiting for the train to +pass. Harkless seized his companion excitedly by the elbow. + +"Tommy!" he cried. "It's Kim Fentriss--look! Did you see that old +fellow?" + +"I saw a particularly uninterested and uninteresting gentleman sitting +on a bag," replied his friend. + +"Why, that's old Kimball Fentriss. He's going to town; he lives on the +edge of the county." + +"Can this be true?" said Meredith gravely. + +"I wonder," said Harkless thoughtfully, a few moments later, "I wonder +why he had them changed around." + +"Who changed around?" + +"The team. He always used to drive the bay on the near side, and the +sorrel on the off." + +"And at present," rejoined Meredith, "I am to understand that he is +driving the sorrel on the near side, and bay on the off?" + +"That's it," returned the other. "He must have worked them like that for +some time, because they didn't look uneasy. They're all right about the +train, those two. I've seen them stand with their heads almost against +a fast freight. See there!" He pointed to a white frame farmhouse with +green blinds. "That's Win Hibbard's. We're just outside of Beaver." + +"Beaver? Elucidate Beaver, boy!" + +"Beaver? Meredith, your information ends at home. What do you know of +your own State if you are ignorant of Beaver. Beaver is that city of +Carlow County next in importance and population to Plattville." + +Tom put his head out of the window. "I fancy you are right," he said. "I +already see five people there." + +Meredith had observed the change in his companion's mood. He had watched +him closely all day, looking for a return of his malady; but he came +to the conclusion that in truth a miracle had been wrought, for the +lethargy was gone, and vigor seemed to increase in Harkless with every +turn of the wheels that brought them nearer Plattville; and the nearer +they drew to Plattville the higher the spirits of both the young men +rose. Meredith knew what was happening there, and he began to be a +little excited. As he had said, there were five people visible at +Beaver; and he wondered where they lived, as the only building in sight +was the station, and to satisfy his curiosity he walked out to the +vestibule. The little station stood in deep woods, and brown leaves +whirled along the platform. One of the five people was an old lady, and +she entered a rear car. The other four were men. One of them handed the +conductor a telegram. + +Meredith heard the official say, "All right. Decorate ahead. I'll hold +it five minutes." + +The man sprang up the steps of the smoker and looked in. He turned +to Meredith: "Do you know if that gentleman in the gray coat is Mr. +Harkless? He's got his back this way, and I don't want to go inside. +The--the air in a smoker always gives me a spell." + +"Yes, that's Mr. Harkless." + +The man jumped to the platform. "All right, boys," he said. "Rip her +out." + +The doors of the freight-room were thrown open, and a big bundle of +colored stuffs was dragged out and hastily unfolded. One of the men +ran to the further end of the car with a strip of red, white and blue +bunting, and tacked it securely, while another fastened the other +extremity to the railing of the steps by Meredith. The two companions of +this pair performed the same operation with another strip on the other +side of the car. They ran similar strips of bunting along the roof from +end to end, so that, except for the windows, the car was completely +covered by the national colors. Then they draped the vestibules with +flags. It was all done in a trice. + +Meredith's heart was beating fast. "What's it all about?" he asked. + +"Picnic down the line," answered the man in charge, removing a tack from +his mouth. He motioned to the conductor, "Go ahead." + +The wheels began to move; the decorators remained on the platform, +letting the train pass them; but Meredith, craning his neck from the +steps, saw that they jumped on the last car. + +"What's the celebration?" asked Harkless, when Meredith returned. + +"Picnic down the line," said Meredith. + +"Nipping weather for a picnic; a little cool, don't you think? One of +those fellows looked like a friend of mine. Homer Tibbs, or as Homer +might look if he were in disgrace. He had his hat hung on his eyes, and +he slouched like a thief in melodrama, as he tacked up the bunting +on this side of the car." He continued to point out various familiar +places, finally breaking out enthusiastically, as they drew nearer the +town, "Hello! Look there--beyond the grove yonder! See that house?" + +"Yes, John." + +"That's the Bowlders'. You've got to know the Bowlders." + +"I'd like to." + +"The kindest people in the world. The Briscoe house we can't see, +because it's so shut in by trees; and, besides, it's a mile or so ahead +of us. We'll go out there for supper to-night. Don't you like Briscoe? +He's the best they make. We'll go up town with Judd Bennett in the +omnibus, and you'll know how a rapid-fire machine gun sounds. I want +to go straight to the 'Herald' office," he finished, with a suddenly +darkening brow. + +"After all, there may be some explanation," Meredith suggested, with a +little hesitancy. "H. Fisbee might turn out more honest than you think." + +Harkless threw his head back and laughed; it was the first time Meredith +had heard him laugh since the night of the dance in the country. +"Honest! A man in the pay of Rodney McCune! Well, we can let it wait +till we get there. Listen! There's the whistle that means we're getting +near home. By heaven, there's an oil-well!" + +"So it is." + +"And another--three--five--seven--seven in sight at once! They tried it +three miles south and failed; but you can't fool Eph Watts, bless him! I +want you to know Watts." + +They were running by the outlying houses of the town, amidst a thousand +descriptive exclamations from Harkless, who wished Meredith to meet +every one in Carlow. But he came to a pause in the middle of a word. + +"Do you hear music?" he asked abruptly. "Or is it only the rhythm of the +ties?" + +"It seems to me there's music in the air," answered his companion. "I've +been fancying I heard it for a minute or so. There! No--yes. It's a +band, isn't it?" + +"No; what would a band----" + +The train slowed up, and stopped at a watertank, two hundred yards east +of the station, and their uncertainty was at an end. + +From somewhere down the track came the detonating boom of a cannon. +There was a dash of brass, and the travellers became aware of a band +playing "Marching through Georgia." Meredith laid his hand on his +companion's shoulder. "John," he said, "John----" The cannon fired +again, and there came a cheer from three thousand throats, the shouters +all unseen. + +The engine coughed and panted, the train rolled on, and in another +minute it had stopped alongside the station in the midst of a +riotous jam of happy people, who were waving flags and banners and +handkerchiefs, and tossing their hats high in the air, and shouting +themselves hoarse. The band played in dumb show; it could not hear +itself play. The people came at the smoker like a long wave, and Warren +Smith, Briscoe, Keating, and Mr. Bence of Gaines were swept ahead of +it. Before the train stopped they had rushed eagerly up the steps and +entered the car. + +Harkless was on his feet and started to meet them. He stopped. + +"What does it mean?" he said, and began to grow pale. "Is Halloway--did +McCune--have you----" + +Warren Smith seized one of his hands and Briscoe the other. "What does +it mean?" cried Warren; "it means that you were nominated for Congress +at five minutes after one-o'clock this afternoon." + +"On the second ballot," shouted the Judge, "just as young Fisbee planned +it, weeks ago." + + +It was one of the great crowds of Carlow's history. They had known since +morning that he was coming home, and the gentlemen of the Reception +Committee had some busy hours; but long before the train arrived, +everything was ready. Homer Tibbs had done his work well at Beaver, and +the gray-haired veterans of a battery Carlow had sent out in '61 had +placed their worn old gun in position to fire salutes. At one-o'clock, +immediately after the nomination had been made unanimous, the Harkless +Clubs of Carlow, Amo, and Gaines, secretly organized during the quiet +agitation preceding the convention, formed on parade in the court-house +yard, and, with the Plattville Band at their head, paraded the streets +to the station, to make sure of being on hand when the train arrived--it +was due in a couple of hours. There they were joined by an increasing +number of glad enthusiasts, all noisy, exhilarated, red-faced with +shouting, and patriotically happy. As Mr. Bence, himself the spoiled +child of another county, generously said, in a speech, which (with no +outrageous pressure) he was induced to make during the long wait: +"The favorite son of Carlow is returning to his Lares and Penates like +another Cincinnatus accepting the call of the people; and, for the first +time in sixteen years, Carlow shall have a representative to bear the +banner of this district and the flaming torch of Progress sweeping on to +Washington and triumph like a speedy galleon of old. And his friends are +here to take his hand and do him homage, and the number of his friends +is as the number given in the last census of the population of the +counties of this district!" + +And, indeed, in this estimate the speaker seemed guilty of no great +exaggeration. A never intermittent procession of pedestrians and +vehicles made its way to the station; and every wagon, buckboard, buggy, +and cut-under had its flags or bunting, or streamer of ribbons tied to +the whip. The excitement increased as the time grew shorter; those +on foot struggled for better positions, and the people in wagons +and carriages stood upon seats, while the pedestrians besieged them, +climbing on the wheels, or balancing recklessly, with feet on the hubs +of opposite wagons. Everybody was bound to see _him_. When the whistle +announced the coming of the train, the band began to play, the cannon +fired, horns blew, and the cheering echoed and reechoed till heaven's +vault resounded with the noise the people of Carlow were making. + +There was one heart which almost stopped beating. Helen was standing on +the front seat of the Briscoe buckboard, with Minnie beside her, and, at +the commotion, the horses pranced and backed so that Lige Willetts ran +to hold them; but she did not notice the frightened roans, nor did she +know that Minnie clutched her round the waist to keep her from falling. +Her eyes were fixed intently on the smoke of the far-away engine, and +her hand, lifted to her face in an uncertain, tremulous fashion, as it +was one day in a circus tent, pressed against the deepest blush that +ever mantled a girl's cheek. When the train reached the platform, she +saw Briscoe and the others rush into the car, and there ensued what +was to her an almost intolerable pause of expectation, while the crowd +besieged the windows of the smoker, leaning up and climbing on each +other's shoulders to catch the first glimpse of _him_. Briscoe and a +red-faced young man, a stranger to Plattville, came down the steps, +laughing like boys, and then Keating and Bence, and then Warren Smith. +As the lawyer reached the platform, he turned toward the door of the car +and waved his hand as in welcome. + +"Here he is, boys!" he shouted, "Welcome Home!" At that it was as if +all the noise that had gone before had been mere leakage of pent-up +enthusiasm. A thousand horns blared deafeningly, the whistles of the +engine and of Hibbard's mill were added to the din, the court-house bell +was pealing out a welcome, and the church bells were ringing, the cannon +thundered, and then cheer on cheer shook the air, as John Harkless came +out under the flags, and passed down the steps of the car. + +When Helen saw him, over the heads of the people and through a flying +tumult of flags and hats and handkerchiefs, she gave one frightened +glance about her, and jumped down from her high perch, and sank into the +back seat of the buckboard with her burning face turned from the station +and her eyes fixed on the ground. She wanted to run away, as she had run +from him the first time she had ever seen him. Then, as now, he came +in triumph, hailed by the plaudits of his fellows; and now, as on that +long-departed day of her young girlhood, he was borne high over the +heads of the people, for Minnie cried to her to look; they were carrying +him on their shoulders to his carriage. She had had only that brief +glimpse of him, before he was lost in the crowd that was so glad to get +him back again and so proud of him; but she had seen that he looked very +white and solemn. + +Briscoe and Tom Meredith made their way through the crowd, and climbed +into the buckboard. "All right, Lige," called the judge to Willetts, who +was at the horses' heads. "You go get into line with the boys; they want +you. We'll go down on Main Street to see the parade," he explained to +the ladies, gathering the reins in his hand. + +He clucked to the roans, and by dint of backing and twisting and turning +and a hundred intricate manoeuvres, accompanied by entreaties +and remonstrances and objurgations, addressed to the occupants of +surrounding vehicles, he managed to extricate the buckboard from the +press; and once free, the team went down the road toward Main Street +at a lively gait. The judge's call to the colts rang out cheerily; his +handsome face was one broad smile. "This is a big day for Carlow," he +said; "I don't remember a better day's work in twenty years." + +"Did you tell him about Mr. Halloway?" asked Helen, leaning forward +anxiously. + +"Warren told him before we left the car," answered Briscoe. "He'd have +declined on the spot, I expect, if we hadn't made him sure it was all +right with Kedge." + +"If I understood what Mr. Smith was saying, Halloway must have behaved +very well," said Meredith. + +The judge laughed. "He saw it was the only way to beat McCune, and he'd +have given his life and Harkless's, too, rather than let McCune have +it." + +"Why didn't you stay with him, Tom?" asked Helen. + +"With Halloway? I don't know him." + +"One forgives a generous hilarity anything, even such quips as that," +she retorted. "Why did you not stay with Mr. Harkless?" + +"That's very hospitable of you," laughed the young man. "You forget that +I have the felicity to sit at your side. Judge Briscoe has been kind +enough to ask me to review the procession from his buckboard and to sup +at his house with other distinguished visitors, and I have accepted." + +"But didn't he wish you to remain with him?" + +"But this second I had the honor to inform you that I am here distinctly +by his invitation." + +"_His_?" + +"Precisely, his. Judge Briscoe, Miss Sherwood will not believe that you +desire my presence. If I intrude, pray let me--" He made as if to spring +from the buckboard, and the girl seized his arm impatiently. + +"You are a pitiful nonsense-monger!" she cried; and for some reason +this speech made him turn his glasses upon her gravely. Her lashes fell +before his gaze, and at that he took her hand and kissed it quickly. + +"No, no," she faltered. "You must not think it. It isn't--you see, +I--there is nothing!" + +"You shall not dull the edge of my hilarity," he answered, "especially +since so much may be forgiven it." + +"Why did you leave Mr. Harkless?" she asked, without raising her eyes. + +"My dear girl," he replied, "because, for some inexplicable reason, my +lady cousin has not nominated me for Congress, but instead has chosen to +bestow that distinction upon another, and, I may say, an unworthier and +unfitter man than I. And, oddly enough, the non-discriminating multitude +were not cheering for me; the artillery was not in action to celebrate +me; the band was not playing to do me honor; therefore why should I ride +in the midst of a procession that knows me not? Why should I enthrone me +in an open barouche--a little faded and possibly not quite secure as to +its springs, but still a barouche--with four white horses to draw it, +and draped with silken flags, both barouche and steeds? Since these +things were not for me, I flew to your side to dissemble my spleen under +the licensed prattle of a cousin." + +"Then who _is_ with him?" + +"The population of this portion of our State, I take it." + +"Oh, it's all right," said the judge, leaning back to speak to Helen. +"Keating and Smith and your father are to ride in the carriage with him. +You needn't be afraid of any of them letting him know that H. Fisbee is +a lady. Everybody understands about that; of course they know it's to be +left to you to break it to him how well a girl has run his paper." The +old gentleman chuckled, and looked out of the corner of his eye at his +daughter, whose expression was inscrutable. + +"I!" cried Helen. "_I_ tell him! No one must tell him. He need never +know it." + +Briscoe reached back and patted her cheek. "How long do you suppose he +will be here in Plattville without it's leaking out?" + +"But they kept guard over him for months and nobody told him." + +"Ah," said Briscoe, "but this is different." + +"No, no, no!" she exclaimed. "It _must_ be kept from him somehow!" + +"He'll know it by to-morrow, so you'd better tell him this evening." + +"This evening?" + +"Yes. You'll have a good chance." + +"I will?" + +"He's coming to supper with us. He and your father, of course, and +Keating and Bence and Boswell and Smith and Tom Martin and Lige. We're +going to have a big time, with you and Minnie to do the honors; and +we're all coming into town afterwards for the fireworks; I'll let him +drive you in the phaeton. You'll have plenty of time to talk it over +with him and tell him all about it." + +Helen gave a little gasp. "Never!" she cried. "Never!" + +The buckboard stopped on the "Herald" corner, and here, and along Main +Street, the line of vehicles which had followed it from the station took +their places. The Square was almost a solid mass of bunting, and the +north entrance of the court-house had been decorated with streamers and +flags, so as to make it a sort of stand. Hither the crowd was already +streaming, and hither the procession made its way. At intervals the +cannon boomed, and Schofields' Henry was winnowing the air with his +bell; nobody had a better time that day than Schofields' Henry, except +old Wilkerson, who was with the procession. + +In advance, came the boys, whooping and somersaulting, and behind them, +rode a band of mounted men, sitting their horses like cavalrymen, led by +the sheriff and his deputy and Jim Bardlock; then followed the Harkless +Club of Amo, led by Boswell, with the magnanimous Halloway himself +marching in the ranks; and at sight of this the people shouted like +madmen. But when Helen's eye fell upon his fat, rather unhappy face, she +felt a pang of pity and unreasoning remorse, which warned her that he +who looks upon politics when it is red must steel his eyes to see many a +man with the heart-burn. After the men of Amo, came the Harkless Club +of Gainesville, Mr. Bence in the van with the step of a grenadier. There +followed next, Mr. Ephraim Watts, bearing a light wand in his hand and +leading a detachment of workers from the oil-fields in their stained +blue overalls and blouses; and, after them, came Mr. Martin and Mr. +Landis at the head of an organization recognized in the "Order of +Procession," printed in the "Herald," as the Business Men of Plattville. +They played in such magnificent time that every high-stepping foot in +all the line came down with the same jubilant plunk, and lifted again +with a unanimity as complete as that of the last vote the convention had +taken that day. The leaders of the procession set a brisk pace, and who +could have set any other kind of a pace when on parade to the strains of +such a band, playing such a tune as "A New Coon in Town," with all its +might and main? + +But as the line swung into the Square, there came a moment when the tune +was ended, the musicians paused for breath, and there fell comparative +quiet. Amongst the ranks of Business Men ambled Mr. Wilkerson, singing +at the top of his voice, and now he could be heard distinctly enough +for those near to him to distinguish the melody with which it was his +intention to favor the public: + + "Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + As we go marching on." + +The words, the air, that husky voice, recalled to the men of Carlow +another day and another procession, not like this one. And the song +Wilkerson was singing is the one song every Northern-born American knows +and can sing. The leader of the band caught the sound, signalled to his +men; twenty instruments rose as one to twenty mouths; the snare-drum +rattled, the big drum crashed, the leader lifted his baton high over his +head, and music burst from twenty brazen throats: + + "Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!" + +Instantaneously, the whole procession began to sing the refrain, and the +people in the street, and those in the wagons and carriages, and those +leaning from the windows joined with one accord, the ringing bells +caught the time of the song, and the upper air reverberated in the +rhythm. + +The Harkless Club of Carlow wheeled into Main Street, two hundred +strong, with their banners and transparencies. Lige Willetts rode at +their head, and behind him strode young William Todd and Parker and Ross +Schofield and Homer Tibbs and Hartley Bowlder, and even Bud Tipworthy +held a place in the ranks through his connection with the "Herald." They +were all singing. + +And, behind them, Helen saw the flag-covered barouche and her father, +and beside him sat John Harkless with his head bared. + +She glanced at Briscoe; he was standing on the front seat with Minnie +beside him, and both were singing. Meredith had climbed upon the back +seat and was nervously fumbling at a cigarette. + +"Sing, Tom!" the girl cried to him excitedly. + +"I should be ashamed not to," he answered; and dropped the cigarette and +began to sing "John Brown's Body" with all his strength. With that she +seized his hand, sprang up beside him, and over the swelling chorus her +full soprano rose, lifted with all the power in her. + +The barouche rolled into the Square, and, as it passed, Harkless turned, +and bent a sudden gaze upon the group in the buckboard; but the western +sun was in his eyes, and he only caught a glimpse of a vague, bright +shape and a dazzle of gold, and he was borne along and out of view, down +the singing street. + + "Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + As we go marching on!" + +The barouche stopped in front of the courthouse, and he passed up a lane +they made for him to the steps. When he turned to them to speak, they +began to cheer again, and he had to wait for them to quiet down. + +"We can't hear him from over here," said Briscoe, "we're too far off. +Mr. Meredith, suppose you take the ladies closer in, and I'll stay with +the horses. You want to hear his speech." + +"He is a great man, isn't he?" Meredith said to Helen, gravely, as he +handed her out of the buckboard. "I've been trying to realize for the +last few minutes, that he is the same old fellow I've been treating so +familiarly all day long." + +"Yes, he is a great man," she answered. "This is only the beginning." + +"That's true," said Briscoe, who had overheard her. "He'll go pretty +far. A man that people know is steady and strong and level-headed can +get whatever he wants, because a public man can get anything, if people +know he's safe and honest and they can rely on him for _sense_. It +sounds like a simple matter; but only three or four public men in the +country have convinced us that they are like that. Hurry along, young +people." + +Crossing the street, they met Miss Tibbs; she was wiping her streaming +eyes with the back of her left hand and still mechanically waving her +handkerchief with her right. "Isn't it beautiful?" she said, not ceasing +to flutter, unconsciously, the little square of cambric. "There was +such a throng that I grew faint and had to come away. I don't mind your +seeing me crying. Pretty near everybody cried when he walked up to the +steps and we saw that he was lame." + +Standing on the outskirts of the crowd, they could hear the mellow ring +of Harkless's voice, but only fragments of the speech, for it was rather +halting, and was not altogether clear in either rhetoric or delivery; +and Mr. Bence could have been a good deal longer in saying what he had +to say, and a thousand times more oratorical. Nevertheless, there was +not a man or woman present who did not declare that it was the greatest +speech ever heard in Plattville; and they really thought so--to such +lengths are loyalty and friendship sometimes carried in Carlow and Amo +and Gaines. + +He looked down upon the attentive, earnest faces and into the kindly +eyes of the Hoosier country people, and, as he spoke, the thought kept +recurring to him that this was the place he had dreaded to come back to; +that these were the people he had wished to leave--these, who gave him +everything they had to give--and this made it difficult to keep his +tones steady and his throat clear. + +Helen stood so far from the steps (nor could she be induced to penetrate +further, though they would have made way for her) that only fragments +reached her, but what she heard she remembered: + +"I have come home... Ordinarily a man needs to fall sick by the wayside +or to be set upon by thieves, in order to realize that nine-tenths +of the world is Samaritan, and the other tenth only too busy or too +ignorant to be. Down here he realizes it with no necessity of illness +or wounds to bring it out; and if he does get hurt, you send him to +Congress.... There will be no other in Washington so proud of what +he stands for as I shall be. To represent you is to stand for +realities--fearlessness, honor, kindness.... We are people who take +what comes to us, and it comes bountifully; we are rich--oh, we are all +Americans here!... This is the place for a man who likes to live where +people are kind to one another, and where they have the old-fashioned +way of saying 'Home.' Other places, they don't seem to get so much into +it as we do. And to come home as I have to-day.... I have come home...." + +Every one meant to shake hands with him, and, when the speech was over, +those nearest swooped upon him, cheering and waving, and grasping at +his hand. Then a line was formed, and they began to defile by him, as +he stood on the steps, and one by one they came up, and gave him hearty +greetings, and passed on through the court-house and out at the south +door. Tom Meredith and Minnie Briscoe came amongst the others, and Tom +said only, "Good old boy," as he squeezed his friend's hand; and then, +as he went down the hall, wiping his glasses, he asked Minnie if she +believed the young man on the steps had risen from a sick bed that +morning. + +It was five-o'clock when Harkless climbed the stairs to the "Herald" +office, and his right arm and hand were aching and limp. Below him, as +he reached the landing, he could see boys selling extras containing his +speech (taken by the new reporter), and long accounts of the convention, +of the nominee's career, and the celebration of his home-coming. The +sales were rapid; for no one could resist the opportunity to read in +print descriptions of what his eyes had beheld and his ears had heard +that day. + +Ross Schofield was the only person in the editorial room, and there was +nothing in his appearance which should cause a man to start and fall +back from the doorway; but that was what Harkless did. + +"What's the matter, Mr. Harkless?" cried Ross, hurrying forward, fearing +that the other had been suddenly reseized by illness. + +"What are those?" asked Harkless, with a gesture of his hand which +seemed to include the entire room. + +"Those!" repeated Ross, staring blankly. + +"Those rosettes--these streamers--that stovepipe--all this blue ribbon." + +Ross turned pale. "Ribbon?" he said, inquiringly. "Ribbon?" He seemed +unable to perceive the decorations referred to. + +"Yes," answered John; "these rosettes on the chairs, that band, and----" + +"Oh!" Ross exclaimed. "That?" He fingered the band on the stovepipe as +if he saw it for the first time. "Yes; I see." + +"But what are they for?" asked Harkless, touching one of the streamers +curiously. + +"Why--it's--it's likely meant for decorations." + +John picked up the ink-well, staring in complete amazement at the hard +knot of ribbon with which it was garnished. + +"They seem to have been here some time." + +"They have; I reckon they're almost due to be called in. They've be'n up +ever sence--sence----" + +"Who put them up, Ross?" + +"We did." + +"What for?" + +Ross was visibly embarrassed. "Why--fer--fer the other editor." + +"For Mr. Fisbee?" + +"Land, no! You don't suppose we'd go to work and bother to brisken +things up fer that old gentleman, do you?" + +"I meant young Mr. Fisbee--he is the other editor, isn't he?" + +"Oh!" said Ross, coughing. "Young Mr. Fisbee? Yes; we put 'em up fer +him." + +"You did! Did he appreciate them?" + +"Well--he seemed to--kind of like 'em." + +"Where is he now? I came here to find him." + +"He's gone." + +"Gone? Hasn't he been here this afternoon?" + +"Yes; some 'the time. Come in and stayed durin' the leevy you was +holdin', and saw the extra off all right." + +"When will he be back?" + +"Sence it's be'n a daily he gits here by eight, after supper, but don't +stay very late; the new man and old Mr. Fisbee and Parker look after +whatever comes in late, unless it's something special. He'll likely be +here by half-past eight at the farthest off." + +"I can't wait till then." John took a quick turn about the room. +"I've been wanting to see him every minute since I got in," he said +impatiently, "and he hasn't been near me. Nobody could even point him +out to me. Where has he gone? I want to see him _now_." + +"Want to discharge him again?" said a voice from the door, and turning, +they saw that Mr. Martin stood there observing them. + +"No," said Harkless; "I want to give him the 'Herald.' Do you know where +he is?" + +Mr. Martin stroked his beard deliberately. "The person you speak +of hadn't ort to be very hard to find--in Carlow. The committee was +reckless enough to hire that carriage of yours by the day, and Keating +and Warren Smith are setting in it up at the corner, with their feet +on the cushions to show they're used to ridin' around with four white +horses every day in the week. It's waitin' till you're ready to go out +to Briscoe's. It's an hour before supper time, and you can talk to young +Fisbee all you want. He's out there." + +As they drove along the pike, Harkless's three companions kept up a +conversation sprightly beyond the mere exhilaration of the victorious; +but John sat almost silent, and, in spite of their liveliness, the +others eyed him a little anxiously now and then, knowing that he had +been living on excitement through a physically exhausting day, and they +were fearful lest his nerves react and bring him to a breakdown. But the +healthy flush of his cheek was reassuring; he looked steady and strong, +and they were pleased to believe that the stirring-up was what he +needed. + +It had been a strange and beautiful day to him, begun in anger, but the +sun was not to go down upon his wrath; for his choleric intention had +almost vanished on his homeward way, and the first words Smith had +spoken had lifted the veil of young Fisbee's duplicity, had shown him +with what fine intelligence and supreme delicacy and sympathy young +Fisbee had worked for him, had understood him, and had _made_ him. If +the open assault on McCune had been pressed, and the damnatory evidence +published in Harkless's own paper, while Harkless himself was a +candidate and rival, John would have felt dishonored. The McCune papers +could have been used for Halloway's benefit, but not for his own; he +would not ride to success on another man's ruin; and young Fisbee had +understood and had saved him. It was a point of honor that many would +have held finicky and inconsistent, but one which young Fisbee had +comprehended was vital to Harkless. + +And this was the man he had discharged like a dishonest servant; the man +who had thrown what was (in Carlow's eyes) riches into his lap; the man +who had made his paper, and who had made him, and saved him. Harkless +wanted to see young Fisbee as he longed to see only one other person +in the world. Two singular things had happened that day which made his +craving to see Helen almost unbearable--just to rest his eyes upon her +for a little while, he could ask no more. And as they passed along that +well-remembered road, every tree, every leaf by the wayside, it seemed, +spoke to him and called upon the dear memory of his two walks with +her--into town and out of town, on show-day. He wondered if his heart +was to project a wraith of her before him whenever he was deeply moved, +for the rest of his life. For twice to-day he had seen her whom he knew +to be so far away. She had gone back to her friends in the north, Tom +had said. Twice that afternoon he had been momentarily, but vividly, +conscious of her as a living presence. As he descended from the car +at the station, his eyes, wandering out over the tumultuous crowd, had +caught and held a picture for a second--a graceful arm upraised, and a +gloved hand pressed against a blushing cheek under a hat such as is not +worn in Carlow; a little figure poised apparently in air, full-length +above the crowd about her; so, for the merest flick of time he had seen +her, and then, to his straining eyes, it was as though she were not. She +had vanished. And again, as his carriage reached the Square, a feeling +had come to him that she was near him; that she was looking at him; that +he should see her when the carriage turned; and in the same instant, +above the singing of a multitude, he heard her voice as if there had +been no other and once more his dazzled eyes beheld her for a second; +she was singing, and as she sang she leaned toward him from on high with +the most ineffable look of tenderness and pride and affection he had +ever seen on a woman's face; such a look, he thought, as she would wear +if she came to love some archangel (her love should be no less) with all +of her heart and soul and strength. And so he knew he had seen a vision. +But it was a cruel one to visit a man who loved her. He had summoned his +philosophy and his courage in his interview with himself on the way to +Carlow, and they had answered; but nothing could answer if his eyes were +to play him tricks and bring her visibly before him, and with such an +expression as he had seen upon her face. It was too real. It made his +eyes yearn for the sight of her with an ache that was physical. And +even at that moment, he saw, far ahead of them on the road, two figures +standing in front of the brick house. One was unmistakable at any +distance. It was that of old Fisbee; and the other was a girl's: a +light, small figure without a hat, and the low, western sun dwelt on a +head that shone with gold. Harkless put his hand over his eyes with a +pain that was like the taste of hemlock in nectar. + +"Sun in your eyes?" asked Keating, lifting his hat, so as to shield the +other's face. + +"Yes." + +When he looked again, both figures were gone. He made up his mind that +he would think of the only other person who could absorb his attention, +at least for a time; very soon he would stand face to face with the six +feet of brawn and intelligence and manhood that was young Fisbee. + +"You are sure he is there?" he asked Tom Martin. + +"Yes," answered Martin, with no need to inquire whom the editor meant. +"I reckon," he continued, solemnly, peering at the other from under his +rusty hat-brim, "I reckon when you see him, maybe you'll want to put a +kind of codicil to that deed to the 'Herald.'" + +"How's that, Martin?" + +"Why, I guess maybe you'll--well, wait till you see him." + +"I don't want to wait much longer, when I remember what I owe him +and how I have used him, and that I have been here nearly three hours +without seeing him." + +As they neared the brick house Harkless made out, through the trees, a +retreative flutter of skirts on the porch, and the thought crossed his +mind that Minnie had flown indoors to give some final directions toward +the preparation of the banquet; but when the barouche halted at the +gate, he was surprised to see her waving to him from the steps, while +Tom Meredith and Mr. Bence and Mr. Boswell formed a little court around +her. Lige Willetts rode up on horse back at the same moment, and the +judge was waiting in front of the gate. Harkless stepped out of the +barouche and took his hand. + +"I was told young Fisbee was here." + +"Young Fisbee is here," said the judge. + +"Where, please, Briscoe?" + +"Want to see him right off?" + +"I do, very much." + +"You'll withdraw his discharge, I expect, now?" + +"Ah!" exclaimed the other. "I want to make him a present of the +'Herald,' if he'll take it." He fumed to Meredith, who had come to the +gate. "Tom, where is he?" + +Meredith put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and answered: "I don't +know. God bless you, old fellow!" + +"The truth is," said the judge, as they entered the gate, "that when you +drove up, young Fisbee ran into the house. Minnie--" He turned, but his +daughter had disappeared; however, she came to the door, a moment later, +and shook her head mysteriously at her father. + +"Not in the house," she said. + +Mr. Fisbee came around the corner of the porch and went toward Harkless. +"Fisbee," cried the latter, "where is your nephew?" + +The old man took his hand in both his own, and looked him between the +eyes, and thus stood, while there was a long pause, the others watching +them. + +"You must not say that I told you," he said at last. "Go into the +garden." + +But when Harkless's step crunched the garden path there was no one +there. Asters were blooming in beds between the green rose-bushes, +and their many-fingered hands were flung open in wide surprise that he +should expect to find young Fisbee there. It was just before sunset. +Birds were gossiping in the sycamores on the bank. At the foot of +the garden, near the creek, there were some tall hydrangea bushes, +flower-laden, and, beyond them, one broad shaft of the sun smote the +creek bends for a mile in that flat land, and crossed the garden like a +bright, taut-drawn veil. Harkless passed the bushes and stepped out into +this gold brilliance. Then he uttered a cry and stopped. + +Helen was standing beside the hydrangeas, with both hands against her +cheeks and her eyes fixed on the ground. She had run away as far as she +could run; there were high fences extending down to the creek on each +side, and the water was beyond. + +"_You_!" he said. "_You--you_!" + +She did not lift her eyes, but began to move away from him with little +backward steps. When she reached the bench on the bank, she spoke with +a quick intake of breath and in a voice he scarcely heard. It was the +merest whisper, and her words came so slowly that sometimes minutes +separated them. + +"Can you--will you keep me--on the 'Herald'?" + +"Keep you----" + +"Will you--let me--help?" + +He came near her. "I don't understand. Is it you--you--who are here +again?" + +"Have you--forgiven me? You know now why I wouldn't--resign? You forgive +my--that telegram?" + +"What telegram?" + +"That one that came to you--this morning." + +"_Your_ telegram?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you send me one?" + +"Yes." + +"It did not come to me." + +"Yes--it did." + +"But there--What was it about?" + +"It was signed," she said, "it was signed--" She paused and turned half +way, not lifting the downcast lashes; her hand, laid upon the arm of the +bench, was shaking; she put it behind her. Then her eyes were lifted a +little, and, though they did not meet his, he saw them, and a strange, +frightened glory leaped in his heart. Her voice fell still lower and two +heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. "It was signed," she whispered, "it +was signed--'H. Fisbee.'" + +He began to tremble from head to foot. There was a long silence. She had +turned quite away from him. When he spoke, his voice was as low as hers, +and he spoke as slowly as she had. + +"You mean--then--it was--you?" + +"Yes." + +"You!" + +"Yes." + +"And you have been here all the time?" + +"All--all except the week you were--hurt, and that--that one evening." + +The bright veil which wrapped them was drawn away, and they stood in the +silent, gathering dusk. + +He tried to loosen his neck-band; it seemed to be choking him. "I--I +can't--I don't comprehend it. I am trying to realize what it----" + +"It means nothing," she answered. + +"There was an editorial, yesterday," he said, "an editorial that I +thought was about Rodney McCune. Did you write it?" + +"Yes." + +"It was about--me--wasn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"It said--it said--that I had won the love of every person in Carlow +County." + +Suddenly she found her voice. "Do not misunderstand me," she said +rapidly. "I have done the little that I have done out of gratitude." She +faced him now, but without meeting his eyes. "I told you, remember, +that you would understand some day what I meant by that, and the day has +come. I owed you more gratitude than a woman ever owed a man before, I +think, and I would have died to pay a part of it. I set every gossip's +tongue in Rouen clacking at the very start, in the merest amateurish +preparation for the work Mr. Macauley gave me. That was nothing. And the +rest has been the happiest time in my life. I have only pleased myself, +after all!" + +"What gratitude did you owe me?" + +"What gratitude? For what you did for my father." + +"I have only seen your father once in my life--at your table at the +dance supper, that night." + +"Listen. My father is a gentle old man with white hair and kind eyes. +You saw my uncle, that night; he has been as good to me as a father, +since I was seven years old, and he gave me his name by law and I lived +with him. My father came to see me once a year; I never came to see him. +He always told me everything was well with him; that his life was happy. +Once he lost the little he had left to him in the world, his only way of +making his living. He had no friends; he was hungry and desperate, and +he wandered. I was dancing and going about wearing jewels--only--I did +not know. All the time the brave heart wrote me happy letters. I should +have known, for there was one who did, and who saved him. When at last +I came to see my father, he told me. He had written of his idol before; +but it was not till I came that he told it all to me. Do you know what +I felt? While his daughter was dancing cotillions, a stranger had taken +his hand--and--" A sob rose in her throat and checked her utterance +for a moment; but she threw up her head and met his eyes proudly. +"Gratitude, Mr. Harkless!" she cried. "I am James Fisbee's daughter." + +He fell back from the bench with a sharp exclamation, and stared at her +through the gray twilight. She went on hurriedly, again not looking at +him: + +"When you showed me that you cared for me--when you told me that you +did--I--do you think I wanted to care for you? I wanted to do something +to show you that I could be ashamed of my vile neglect of him--something +to show you his daughter could be grateful. If I had loved you, what +I did would have been for that--and I could not have done it. And how +could I have shown my gratitude if I had done it for love? And it has +been such dear, happy work, the little I have done, that it seems, after +all, that I have done it for love of myself. But--but when you first +told me--" She broke off with a strange, fluttering, half inarticulate +little laugh that was half tears; and then resumed in another tone: +"When you told me you cared that night--that night we were here--how +could I be sure? It had been only two days, you see, and even if I could +have been sure of myself, why, I couldn't have told you. Oh! I had so +brazenly thrown myself at your head, time and again, those two days, +in my--my worship of your goodness to my father and my excitement in +recognizing in his friend the hero of my girlhood, that you had every +right to think I cared; but if--but if I had--if I had--loved you with +my whole soul, I could not have--why, no woman could have--I mean the +sort of girl I am couldn't have admitted it--must have denied it. And +what I was trying to do for you when we met in Rouen was--was courting +you. You surely see I couldn't have done it if I had cared. It +would have been brazen! And do you think that then I could have +answered--'Yes'--even if I wanted to--even if I had been sure of myself? +And now--" Her voice sank again to a whisper. "And now----" + +From the meadows across the creek, and over the fields, came a far +tinkling of farm-bells. Three months ago, at this hour, John Harkless +had listened to that sound, and its great lonesomeness had touched his +heart like a cold hand; but now, as the mists were rising from the water +and the small stars pierced the sky one by one, glinting down through +the dim, immeasurable blue distances, he found no loneliness in heaven +or earth. He leaned forward toward her; the bench was between them. The +last light was gone; evening had fallen. + +"And now--" he said. + +She moved backward as he leaned nearer. + +"You promised to remember on the day you understood," she answered, a +little huskily, "that it was all from the purest gratitude." + +"And--and there is nothing else?" + +"If there were," she said, and her voice grew more and more unsteady, +"if there were, can't you see that what I have done--" She stopped, and +then, suddenly, "Ah, it would have been _brazen_!" + +He looked up at the little stars and he heard the bells, and they struck +into his heart like a dirge. He made a singular gesture of abnegation, +and then dropped upon the bench with his head bowed between his hands. + +She pressed her hand to her bosom, watching him in a startled fashion, +her eyes wide and her lips parted. She took a few quick, short steps +toward the garden, still watching him over her shoulder. + +"You mustn't worry," he said, not lifting his bent head, "I know you're +sorry. I'll be all right in a minute." + +She gave a hurried glance from right to left and from left to right, +like one in terror seeking a way of escape; she gathered her skirts in +her hand, as if to run into the garden; but suddenly she turned and ran +to him--ran to him swiftly, with her great love shining from her eyes. +She sank upon her knees beside him. She threw her arms about his neck +and kissed him on the forehead. + +"Oh, my dear, don't you see?" she whispered, "don't you see--don't you +see?" + +When they heard the judge calling from the orchard, they went back +through the garden toward the house. It was dark; the whitest asters +were but gray splotches. There was no one in the orchard; Briscoe had +gone indoors. "Did you know you are to drive me into town in the phaeton +for the fireworks?" she asked. + +"Fireworks?" + +"Yes; the Great Harkless has come home." + +Even in the darkness he could see the look the vision had given him when +the barouche turned into the Square. She smiled upon him and said, "All +afternoon I was wishing I could have been your mother." + +He clasped her hand more tightly. "This wonderful world!" he cried. +"Yesterday I had a doctor--a doctor to cure me of love-sickness!" + +They went on a little way. "We must hurry," she said. "I am sure they +have been waiting for us." This was true; they had. + +From the dining-room came laughter and hearty voices, and the windows +were bright with the light of many lamps. By and by, they stood just +outside the patch of light that fell from one of the windows. + +"Look," said Helen. "Aren't they good, dear people?" + +"The beautiful people!" he answered. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Gentleman From Indiana, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA *** + +***** This file should be named 9659.txt or 9659.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/6/5/9659/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: The Gentleman From Indiana + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Release Date: January, 2006 [EBook #9659] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 14, 2003] +[Date last updated: June 3, 2004] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA *** + + + + + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA + + +BY BOOTH TARKINGTON + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. THE YOUNG MAN WHO CAME TO STAY + II. THE STRANGE LADY + III. LONESOMENESS + IV. THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER + V. AT THE PASTURE BARS: ELDER-BUSHES MAY HAVE STINGS + VI. JUNE + VII. MORNING: "SOME IN RAGS AND SOME IN TAGS AND SOME IN VELVET GOWNS" + VIII. GLAD AFTERNOON: THE GIRL BY THE BLUE TENT POLE + IX. NIGHT: IT IS BAD LUCK TO SING BEFORE BREAKFAST + X. THE COURT-HOUSE BELL + XI. JOHN BROWN'S BODY + XII. JERRY THE TELLER + XIII. JAMES FISBEE + XIV. A RESCUE + XV. NETTLES + XVI. PRETTY MARQUISE + XVII. HELEN'S TOAST +XVIII. THE TREACHERY OF H. FISBEE + XIX. THE GREAT HARKLESS COMES HOME + + + +CHAPTER I + + +THE YOUNG MAN WHO CAME TO STAY + +There is a fertile stretch of flat lands in Indiana where unagrarian +Eastern travellers, glancing from car-windows, shudder and return their +eyes to interior upholstery, preferring even the swaying caparisons of a +Pullman to the monotony without. The landscape lies interminably level: +bleak in winter, a desolate plain of mud and snow; hot and dusty in +summer, in its flat lonesomeness, miles on miles with not one cool hill +slope away from the sun. The persistent tourist who seeks for signs of man +in this sad expanse perceives a reckless amount of rail fence; at +intervals a large barn; and, here and there, man himself, incurious, +patient, slow, looking up from the fields apathetically as the Limited +flies by. Widely separated from each other are small frame railway +stations--sometimes with no other building in sight, which indicates that +somewhere behind the adjacent woods a few shanties and thin cottages are +grouped about a couple of brick stores. + +On the station platforms there are always two or three wooden packing- +boxes, apparently marked for travel, but they are sacred from disturbance +and remain on the platform forever; possibly the right train never comes +along. They serve to enthrone a few station loafers, who look out from +under their hat-brims at the faces in the car-windows with the languid +scorn a permanent fixture always has for a transient, and the pity an +American feels for a fellow-being who does not live in his town. Now and +then the train passes a town built scatteringly about a court-house, with +a mill or two humming near the tracks. This is a county-seat, and the +inhabitants and the local papers refer to it confidently as "our city." +The heart of the flat lands is a central area called Carlow County, and +the county-seat of Carlow is a town unhappily named in honor of its first +settler, William Platt, who christened it with his blood. Natives of this +place have sometimes remarked, easily, that their city had a population of +from five to six thousand souls. It is easy to forgive them for such +statements; civic pride is a virtue. + +The social and business energy of Plattville concentrates on the Square. +Here, in summer-time, the gentlemen are wont to lounge from store to store +in their shirt sleeves; and here stood the old, red-brick court-house, +loosely fenced in a shady grove of maple and elm--"slipp'ry ellum"--called +the "Court-House Yard." When the sun grew too hot for the dry-goods box +whittlers in front of the stores around the Square and the occupants of +the chairs in front of the Palace Hotel on the corner, they would go +across and drape themselves over the court-house fence, under the trees, +and leisurely carve there initials on the top board. The farmers hitched +their teams to the fence, for there were usually loafers energetic enough +to shout "Whoa!" if the flies worried the horses beyond patience. In the +yard, amongst the weeds and tall, unkept grass, chickens foraged all day +long; the fence was so low that the most matronly hen flew over with +propriety; and there were gaps that accommodated the passage of itinerant +pigs. Most of the latter, however, preferred the cool wallows of the less +important street corners. Here and there a big dog lay asleep in the +middle of the road, knowing well that the easy-going Samaritan, in his +case, would pass by on the other side. + +Only one street attained to the dignity of a name--Main Street, which +formed the north side of the Square. In Carlow County, descriptive +location is usually accomplished by designating the adjacent, as, "Up at +Bardlocks'," "Down by Schofields'," "Right where Hibbards live," "Acrost +from Sol. Tibbs's," or, "Other side of Jones's field." In winter, Main +Street was a series of frozen gorges land hummocks; in fall and spring, a +river of mud; in summer, a continuing dust heap; it was the best street in +Plattville. + +The people lived happily; and, while the world whirled on outside, they +were content with their own. It would have moved their surprise as much as +their indignation to hear themselves spoken of as a "secluded community"; +for they sat up all night to hear the vote of New York, every campaign. +Once when the President visited Rouen, seventy miles away, there were only +few bankrupts (and not a baby amongst them) left in the deserted homes of +Carlow County. Everybody had adventures; almost everybody saw the great +man; and everybody was glad to get back home again. It was the longest +journey some of them ever set upon, and these, elated as they were over +their travels, determined to think twice ere they went that far from home +another time. + +On Saturdays, the farmers enlivened the commercial atmosphere of +Plattville; and Miss Tibbs, the postmaster's sister and clerk, used to +make a point of walking up and down Main Street as often as possible, to +get a thrill in the realization of some poetical expressions that haunted +her pleasingly; phrases she had employed frequently in her poems for the +"Carlow County Herald." When thirty or forty country people were scattered +along the sidewalks in front of the stores on Main Street, she would walk +at nicely calculated angles to the different groups so as to leave as few +gaps as possible between the figures, making them appear as near a solid +phalanx as she could. Then she would murmur to herself, with the accent of +soulful revel, "The thronged city streets," and, "Within the thronged +city," or, "Where the thronging crowds were swarming and the great +cathedral rose." Although she had never been beyond Carlow and the +bordering counties in her life, all her poems were of city streets and +bustling multitudes. She was one of those who had been unable to join the +excursion to Rouen when the President was there; but she had listened +avidly to her friends' descriptions of the crowds. Before that time her +muse had been sylvan, speaking of "Flow'rs of May," and hinting at +thoughts that overcame her when she roved the woodlands thro'; but now the +inspiration was become decidedly municipal and urban, evidently reluctant +to depart beyond the retail portions of a metropolis. Her verses +beginning, "O, my native city, bride of Hibbard's winding stream,"-- +Hibbard's Creek runs west of Plattville, except in time of drought--"When +thy myriad lights are shining, and thy faces, like a dream, Go flitting +down thy sidewalks when their daily toil is done," were pronounced, at the +time of their publication, the best poem that had ever appeared in the +"Herald." + +This unlucky newspaper was a thorn in the side of every patriot of Carlow +County. It was a poor paper; everybody knew it was a poor paper; it was so +poor that everybody admitted it was a poor paper--worse, the neighboring +county of Amo possessed a better paper, the "Amo Gazette." The "Carlow +County Herald" was so everlastingly bad that Plattville people bent their +heads bitterly and admitted even to citizens of Amo that the "Gazette" was +the better paper. The "Herald" was a weekly, issued on Saturday; sometimes +it hung fire over Sunday and appeared Monday evening. In their pride, the +Carlow people supported the "Herald" loyally and long; but finally +subscriptions began to fall off and the "Gazette" gained them. It came to +pass that the "Herald" missed fire altogether for several weeks; then it +came out feebly, two small advertisements occupying the whole of the +fourth page. It was breathing its last. The editor was a clay-colored +gentleman with a goatee, whose one surreptitious eye betokened both +indolence of disposition and a certain furtive shrewdness. He collected +all the outstanding subscriptions he could, on the morning of the issue +just mentioned, and, thoughtfully neglecting several items on the other +side of the ledger, departed from Plattville forever. + +The same afternoon a young man from the East alighted on the platform of +the railway station, north of the town, and, entering the rickety omnibus +that lingered there, seeking whom it might rattle to deafness, demanded to +be driven to the Herald Building. It did not strike the driver that the +newcomer was precisely a gay young man when he climbed into the omnibus; +but, an hour later, as he stood in the doorway of the edifice he had +indicated as his destination, depression seemed to have settled into the +marrow of his bones. Plattville was instantly alert to the stranger's +presence, and interesting conjectures were hazarded all day long at the +back door of Martin's Dry-Goods Emporium, where all the clerks from the +stores around the Square came to play checkers or look on at the game. +(This was the club during the day; in the evening the club and the game +removed to the drug, book, and wall-paper store on the corner.) At supper, +the new arrival and his probable purposes were discussed over every table +in the town. Upon inquiry, he had informed Judd Bennett, the driver of the +omnibus, that he had come to stay. Naturally, such a declaration caused a +sensation, as people did not come to Plattville to live, except through +the inadvertency of being born there. In addition, the young man's +appearance and attire were reported to be extraordinary. Many of the +curious, among them most of the marriageable females of the place, took +occasion to pass and repass the sign of the "Carlow County Herald" during +the evening. + +Meanwhile, the stranger was seated in the dingy office upstairs with his +head bowed low on his arms. Twilight stole through the dirty window-panes +and faded into darkness. Night filled the room. He did not move. The young +man from the East had bought the "Herald" from an agent; had bought it +without ever having been within a hundred miles of Plattville. He had +vastly overpaid for it. Moreover, the price he had paid for it was all the +money he had in the world. + +The next morning he went bitterly to work. He hired a compositor from +Rouen, a young man named Parker, who set type all night long and helped +him pursue advertisements all day. The citizens shook their heads +pessimistically. They had about given up the idea that the "Herald" could +ever amount to anything, and they betrayed an innocent, but caustic, doubt +of ability in any stranger. + +One day the new editor left a note on his door; "Will return in fifteen +minutes." + +Mr. Rodney McCune, a politician from the neighboring county of Gaines, +happening to be in Plattville on an errand to his henchmen, found the +note, and wrote beneath the message the scathing inquiry, "Why?" + +When he discovered this addendum, the editor smiled for the first time +since his advent, and reported the incident in his next issue, using the +rubric, "Why Has the 'Herald' Returned to Life?" as a text for a rousing +editorial on "honesty in politics," a subject of which he already knew +something. The political district to which Carlow belonged was governed +by a limited number of gentlemen whose wealth was ever on the increase; +and "honesty in politics" was a startling conception to the minds of the +passive and resigned voters, who discussed the editorial on the street +corners and in the stores. The next week there was another editorial, +personal and local in its application, and thereby it became evident that +the new proprietor of the "Herald" was a theorist who believed, in +general, that a politician's honor should not be merely of that middling +healthy species known as "honor amongst politicians"; and, in particular, +that Rodney McCune should not receive the nomination of his party for +Congress. Now, Mr. McCune was the undoubted dictator of the district, and +his followers laughed at the stranger's fantastic onset. + +But the editor was not content with the word of print; he hired a horse +and rode about the country, and (to his own surprise) he proved to be an +adaptable young man who enjoyed exercise with a pitchfork to the farmer's +profit while the farmer talked. He talked little himself, but after +listening an hour or so, he would drop a word from the saddle as he left; +and then, by some surprising wizardry, the farmer, thinking over the +interview, decided there was some sense in what that young fellow said, +and grew curious to see what the young fellow had further to say in the +"Herald." + +Politics is the one subject that goes to the vitals of every rural +American; and a Hoosier will talk politics after he is dead. + +Everybody read the campaign editorials, and found them interesting, +although there was no one who did not perceive the utter absurdity of a +young stranger's dropping into Carlow and involving himself in a party +fight against the boss of the district. It was entirely a party fight; +for, by grace of the last gerrymander, the nomination carried with it the +certainty of election. A week before the convention there came a +provincial earthquake; the news passed from man to man in awe-struck +whispers--McCune had withdrawn his name, making the hollowest of excuses +to his cohorts. Nothing was known of the real reason for his disordered +retreat, beyond the fact that he had been in Plattville on the morning +before his withdrawal and had issued from a visit to the "Herald" office +in a state of palsy. Mr. Parker, the Rouen printer, had been present at +the close of the interview; but he held his peace at the command of his +employer. He had been called into the sanctum, and had found McCune, white +and shaking, leaning on the desk. + +"Parker," said the editor, exhibiting a bundle of papers he held in his +hand, "I want you to witness a verbal contract between Mr. McCune and +myself. These papers are an affidavit and copies of some records of a +street-car company which obtained a charter while Mr McCune was in the +State legislature. They were sent to me by a man I do not know, an +anonymous friend of Mr. McCune's; in fact, a friend he seems to have lost. +On consideration of our not printing these papers, Mr. McCune agrees to +retire from politics for good. You understand, if he ever lifts his head +again, politically, We publish them, and the courts will do the rest. Now, +in case anything should happen to me----" + +"Something will happen to you, all right," broke out McCune. "You can bank +on that, you black----" + +"Come," the editor interrupted, not unpleasantly "why should there be +anything personal, in all this? I don't recognize you as my private enemy +--not at all; and I think you are getting off rather easily; aren't you? +You stay out of politics, and everything will be comfortable. You ought +never to have been in it, you see. It's a mistake not to keep square, +because in the long run somebody is sure to give you away--like the fellow +who sent me these. You promise to hold to a strictly private life?" + +"You're a traitor to the party," groaned the other, "but you only +wait----" + +The editor smiled sadly. "Wait nothing. Don't threaten, man. Go home to +your wife. I'll give you three to one she'll be glad you are out of it." + +"I'll give you three to one," said McCune, "that the White Caps will get +you if you stay in Carlow. You want to look out for yourself, I tell you, +my smart boy!" + +"Good-day, Mr. McCune," was the answer. "Let me have your note of +withdrawal before you leave town this afternoon." The young man paused a +moment, then extended his hand, as he said: "Shake hands, won't you? I--I +haven't meant to be too hard on you. I hope things will seem easier and +gayer to you before long; and if--if anything should turn up that I can do +for you in a private way, I'll be very glad, you know. Good-by." + +The sound of the "Herald's" victory went over the State. The paper came +out regularly. The townsfolk bought it and the farmers drove in for it. +Old subscribers came back. Old advertisers renewed. The "Herald" began to +sell in Amo, and Gaines County people subscribed. Carlow folk held up +their heads when journalism was mentioned. Presently the "Herald" +announced a news connection with Rouen, and with that, and the aid of +"patent insides," began an era of three issues a week, appearing on +Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. The Plattville Brass Band serenaded +the editor. + +During the second month of the new regime of the "Herald," the working +force of the paper received an addition. One night the editor found some +barroom loafers tormenting a patriarchal old man who had a magnificent +head and a grand white beard. He had been thrown out of a saloon, and he +was drunk with the drunkenness of three weeks steady pouring. He propped +himself against a wall and reproved his tormentors in Latin. "I'm walking +your way, Mr. Fisbee," remarked the journalist, hooking his arm into the +old man's. "Suppose we leave our friends here and go home?" + +Mr. Fisbee was the one inhabitant of the town who had an unknown past; no +one knew more about him than that he had been connected with a university +somewhere, and had travelled in unheard-of countries before he came to +Plattville. A glamour of romance was thrown about him by the gossips, to +whom he ever proved a fund of delightful speculation. There was a dark, +portentous secret in his life, it was agreed; an opinion not too well +confirmed by the old man's appearance. His fine eyes had a pathetic habit +of wandering to the horizon in a questioning fashion that had a queer sort +of hopelessness in it, as if his quest were one for the Holy Grail, +perhaps; and his expression was mild, vague, and sad. He had a look of +race and blood; and yet, at the first glance, one saw that he was lost in +dreams, and one guessed that the dreams would never be of great +practicability in their application. Some such impression of Fisbee was +probably what caused the editor of the "Herald" to nickname him (in his +own mind) "The White Knight," and to conceive a strong, if whimsical, +fancy for him. + +Old Fisbee had come (from nobody knew where) to Plattville to teach, and +had been principal of the High School for ten years, instructing his +pupils after a peculiar fashion of his own, neglecting the ordinary +courses of High School instruction to lecture on archaeology to the +dumfounded scholars; growing year by year more forgetful and absent, lost +in his few books and his own reflections, until, though undeniably a +scholar, he had been discharged for incompetency. He was old; he had no +money and no way to make money; he could find nothing to do. The blow had +seemed to daze him for a time; then he began to drop in at the hotel bar, +where Wilkerson, the professional drunkard, favored him with his society. +The old man understood; he knew it was the beginning of the end. He sold +his books in order to continue his credit at the Palace bar, and once or +twice, unable to proceed to his own dwelling, spent the night in a lumber +yard, piloted thither by the hardier veteran, Wilkerson. + +The morning after the editor took him home, Fisbee appeared at the +"Herald" office in a new hat and a decent suit of black. He had received +his salary in advance, his books had been repurchased, and he had become +the reportorial staff of the "Carlow County Herald"; also, he was to write +various treatises for the paper. For the first few evenings, when he +started home from the office, his chief walked with him, chatting +heartily, until they had passed the Palace bar. But Fisbee's redemption +was complete. + +The old man had a daughter. When she came to Plattville, he told her what +the editor of the "Herald" had done for him. + +The journalist kept steadily at his work; and, as time went on, the +bitterness his predecessor's swindle had left him passed away. But his +loneliness and a sense of defeat grew and deepened. When the vistas of the +world had opened to his first youth, he had not thought to spend his life +in such a place as Plattville; but he found himself doing it, and it was +no great happiness to him that the congressional representative of the +district, the gentleman whom the "Herald's" opposition to McCune had sent +to Washington, came to depend on his influence for renomination; nor did +the realization that the editor of the "Carlow County Herald" had come to +be McCune's successor as political dictator produce a perceptibly +enlivening effect on the young man. The years drifted very slowly, and to +him it seemed they went by while he stood far aside and could not even see +them move. He did not consider the life he led an exciting one; but the +other citizens of Carlow did when he undertook a war against the "White +Caps." The natives were much more afraid of the "White Caps" than he was; +they knew more about them and understood them better than he did. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +THE STRANGE LADY + +IT was June. From the patent inner columns of the "Carlow County Herald" +might be gleaned the information (enlivened by cuts of duchesses) that the +London season had reached a high point of gaiety; and that, although the +weather had grown inauspiciously warm, there was sufficient gossip for the +thoughtful. To the rapt mind of Miss Selina Tibbs came a delicious moment +of comparison: precisely the same conditions prevailed in Plattville. + +Not unduly might Miss Selina lay this flattering unction to her soul, and +well might the "Herald" declare that "Carlow events were crowding thick +and fast." The congressional representative of the district was to deliver +a lecture at the court-house; a circus was approaching the county-seat, +and its glories would be exhibited "rain or shine"; the court had cleared +up the docket by sitting to unseemly hours of the night, even until ten +o'clock--one farmer witness had fallen asleep while deposing that he "had +knowed this man Hender some eighteen year"--and, as excitements come +indeed when they do come, and it seldom rains but it pours, the identical +afternoon of the lecture a strange lady descended from the Rouen +Accommodation and was greeted on the platform by the wealthiest citizen of +the county. Judge Briscoe, and his daughter, Minnie, and (what stirred +wonder to an itch almost beyond endurance) Mr. Fisbee! and they then drove +through town on the way to the Briscoe mansion, all four, apparently, in a +fluster of pleasure and exhilaration, the strange lady engaged in earnest +conversation with Mr. Fisbee on the back seat. + +Judd Bennett had had the best stare at her, but, as he immediately fell +into a dreamy and absent state, little satisfaction could be got from him, +merely an exasperating statement that the stranger seemed to have a kind +of new look to her. However, by means of Miss Mildy Upton, a domestic of +the Briscoe household, the community was given something a little more +definite. The lady's name was Sherwood; she lived in Rouen; and she had +known Miss Briscoe at the eastern school the latter had attended (to the +feverish agitation of Plattville) three years before; but Mildy confessed +her inadequacy in the matter of Mr. Fisbee. He had driven up in the +buckboard with the others and evidently expected to stay for supper Mr. +Tibbs, the postmaster (it was to the postoffice that Miss Upton brought +her information) suggested, as a possible explanation, that the lady was +so learned that the Briscoes had invited Fisbee on the ground of his being +the only person in Plattville they esteemed wise enough to converse with +her; but Miss Tibbs wrecked her brother's theory by mentioning the name of +Fisbee's chief. + +"You see, Solomon," she sagaciously observed, "if that were true, they +would have invited him, instead of Mr. Fisbee, and I wish they had. He +isn't troubled with malaria, and yet the longer he lives here the +sallower-looking and sadder-looking he gets. I think the company of a +lovely stranger might be of great cheer to his heart, and it will be +interesting to witness the meeting between them. It may be," added the +poetess, "that they _have_ already met, on his travels before he settled +here. It may be that they are old friends--or even more." + +"Then what," returned her brother, "what is he doin' settin' up in his +office all afternoon with ink on his forehead, while Fisbee goes out +ridin' with her and stays for supper after_werds_?" + +Although the problem of Fisbee's attendance remained a mere maze of +hopeless speculation, Mildy had been present at the opening of Miss +Sherwood's trunk, and here was matter for the keen consideration of the +ladies, at least. Thoughtful conversations in regard to hats and linings +took place across fences and on corners of the Square that afternoon; and +many gentlemen wondered (in wise silence) why their spouses were absent- +minded and brooded during the evening meal. + +At half-past seven, the Hon. Kedge Halloway of Amo delivered himself of +his lecture; "The Past and Present. What we may Glean from Them, and Their +Influence on the Future." At seven the court-room was crowded, and Miss +Tibbs, seated on the platform (reserved for prominent citizens), viewed +the expectant throng with rapture. It is possible that she would have +confessed to witnessing a sea of faces, but it is more probable that she +viewed the expectant throng. The thermometer stood at eighty-seven degrees +and there was a rustle of incessantly moving palm-leaf fans as, row by +row, their yellow sides twinkled in the light of eight oil lamps. The +stouter ladies wielded their fans with vigor. There were some very pretty +faces in Mr. Halloway's audience, but it is a peculiarity of Plattville +that most of those females who do not incline to stoutness incline far in +the opposite direction, and the lean ladies naturally suffered less from +the temperature than their sisters. The shorn lamb is cared for, but often +there seems the intention to impart a moral in the refusal of Providence +to temper warm weather to the full-bodied. + +Old Tom Martin expressed a strong consciousness of such intention when he +observed to the shocked Miss Selina, as Mr. Bill Snoddy, the stoutest +citizen of the county, waddled abnormally up the aisle: "The Almighty must +be gittin" a heap of fun out of Bill Snoddy to-night." + +"Oh, Mr. Martin!" exclaimed Miss Tibbs, fluttering at his irreverence. + +"Why, you would yourself. Miss Seliny," returned old Tom. Mr. Martin +always spoke in one key, never altering the pitch of his high, dry, +unctuous drawl, though, when his purpose was more than ordinarily +humorous, his voice assumed a shade of melancholy. Now and then he +meditatively passed his fingers through his gray beard, which followed the +line of his jaw, leaving his upper lip and most of his chin smooth-shaven. +"Did you ever reason out why folks laugh so much at fat people?" he +continued. "No, ma'am. Neither'd anybody else." + +"Why is it, Mr. Martin?" asked Miss Selina. + +"It's like the Creator's sayin', 'Let there be light.' He says, 'Let +ladies be lovely--'" (Miss Tibbs bowed)--"and 'Let men-folks be honest-- +sometimes;' and, 'Let fat people be held up to ridicule till they fall +off.' You can't tell why it is; it was jest ordained that-a-way." + +The room was so crowded that the juvenile portion of the assemblage was +ensconced in the windows. Strange to say, the youth of Plattville were not +present under protest, as their fellows of a metropolis would have been, +lectures being well understood by the young of great cities to have +instructive tendencies. The boys came to-night because they insisted upon +coming. It was an event. Some of them had made sacrifices to come, +enduring even the agony (next to hair-cutting in suffering) of having +their ears washed. Conscious of parental eyes, they fronted the public +with boyhood's professional expressionlessness, though they communicated +with each other aside in a cipher-language of their own, and each group +was a hot-bed of furtive gossip and sarcastic comment. Seated in the +windows, they kept out what small breath of air might otherwise have +stolen in to comfort the audience. + +Their elders sat patiently dripping with perspiration, most of the +gentlemen undergoing the unusual garniture of stiffly-starched collars, +those who had not cultivated chin beards to obviate such arduous +necessities of pomp and state, hardly bearing up under the added anxiety +of cravats. However, they sat outwardly meek under the yoke; nearly all of +them seeking a quiet solace of tobacco--not that they smoked; Heaven and +the gallantry of Carlow County forbid--nor were there anywhere visible +tokens of the comforting ministrations of nicotine to violate the eye of +etiquette. It is an art of Plattville. + +Suddenly there was a hum and a stir and a buzz of whispering in the room. +Two gray old men and two pretty young women passed up the aisle to the +platform. One old man was stalwart and ruddy, with a cordial eye and a +handsome, smooth-shaven, big face. The other was bent and trembled +slightly; his face was very white; he had a fine high brow, deeply lined, +the brow of a scholar, and a grandly flowing white beard that covered his +chest, the beard of a patriarch. One of the young women was tall and had +the rosy cheeks and pleasant eyes of her father, who preceded her. The +other was the strange lady. + +A universal perturbation followed her progress up the aisle, if she had +known it. She was small and fair, very daintily and beautifully made; a +pretty Marquise whose head Greuze. should have painted Mrs. Columbus +Landis, wife of the proprietor of the Palace Hotel, conferring with a lady +in the next seat, applied an over-burdened adjective: "It ain't so much +she's han'some, though she is, that--but don't you notice she's got a kind +of smart look to her? Her bein' so teeny, kind of makes it more so, +somehow, too." What stunned the gossips of the windows to awed admiration, +however, was the unconcerned and stoical fashion in which she wore a long +bodkin straight through her head. It seemed a large sacrifice merely to +make sure one's hat remained in place. + +The party took seats a little to the left and rear of the lecturer's +table, and faced the audience. The strange lady chatted gaily with the +other three, apparently as unconscious of the multitude of eyes fixed upon +her as the gazers were innocent of rude intent. There were pretty young +women in Plattville; Minnie Briscoe was the prettiest, and, as the local +glass of fashion reflected, "the stylishest"; but this girl was different, +somehow, in a way the critics were puzzled to discover--different, from +the sparkle of her eyes and the crown of her trim sailor hat, to the edge +of her snowy duck skirt. + +Judd Bennett sighed a sigh that was heard in every corner of the room. As +everybody immediately turned to look at him, he got up and went out. + +It had long been a jocose fiction of Mr. Martin, who was a widower of +thirty years' standing, that he and the gifted authoress by his side were +in a state of courtship. Now he bent his rugged head toward her to +whisper: "I never thought to see the day you'd have a rival in my +affections. Miss Seliny, but yonder looks like it. I reckon I'll have to +go up to Ben Tinkle's and buy that fancy vest he's had in stock this last +twelve year or more. Will you take me back when she's left the city again; +Miss Seliny?" he drawled. "I expect, maybe, Miss Sherwood is one of these +here summer girls. I've heard of 'em but I never see one before. You +better take warning and watch me--Fisbee won't have no clear field from +now on." + +The stranger leaned across to speak to Miss Briscoe and her sleeve touched +the left shoulder of the old man with the patriarchal white beard. A +moment later he put his right hand to that shoulder and gently moved it up +and down with a caressing motion over the shabby black broadcloth her +garment had touched. + +"Look at that old Fisbee!" exclaimed Mr. Martin, affecting indignation. +"Never be 'n half as spruced up and wide awake in all his life. He's +prob'ly got her to listen to him on the decorations of Nineveh--it's my +belief he was there when it was destroyed. Well, if I can't cut him out +we'll get our respected young friend of the 'Herald' to do it." + +"Sh!" returned Miss Tibbs. "Here he is." + +The seats upon the platform were all occupied, except the two foremost +ones in the centre (one on each side of a little table with a lamp, a +pitcher of ice-water, and a glass) reserved for the lecturer and the +gentleman who was to introduce him. Steps were audible in the hall, and +every one turned to watch the door, where the distinguished pair now made +their appearance in a hush of expectation over which the beating of the +fans alone prevailed. The Hon. Kedge Halloway was one of the gleaners of +the flesh-pots, himself, and he marched into the room unostentatiously +mopping his shining expanse of brow with a figured handkerchief. He was a +person of solemn appearance; a fat gold watch-chain which curved across +his ponderous front, adding mysteriously to his gravity. At his side +strolled a very tall, thin, rather stooping--though broad-shouldered-- +rather shabby young man with a sallow, melancholy face and deep-set eyes +that looked tired. When they were seated, the orator looked over his +audience slowly and with an incomparable calm; then, as is always done, he +and the melancholy young man exchanged whispers for a few moments. After +this there was a pause, at the end of which the latter rose and announced +that it was his pleasure and his privilege to introduce, that evening, a +gentleman who needed no introduction to that assemblage. What citizen of +Carlow needed an introduction, asked the speaker, to the orator they had +applauded in the campaigns of the last twenty years, the statesman author +of the Halloway Bill, the most honored citizen of the neighboring and +flourishing county and city of Amo? And, the speaker would say, that if +there were one thing the citizens of Carlow could be held to envy the +citizens of Amo, it was the Honorable Kedge Halloway, the thinker, to +whose widely-known paper they were about to have the pleasure and +improvement of listening. + +The introduction was so vehemently applauded that, had there been present +a person connected with the theatrical profession, he might have been +nervous for fear the introducer had prepared no encore. "Kedge is too +smart to take it all to himself," commented Mr. Martin. "He knows it's +half account of the man that said it." + +He was not mistaken. Mr. Halloway had learned a certain perceptiveness on +the stump. Resting one hand upon his unfolded notes upon the table, he +turned toward the melancholy young man (who had subsided into the small of +his back in his chair) and, after clearing his throat, observed with +sudden vehemence that he must thank his gifted friend for his flattering +remarks, but that when he said that Carlow envied Amo a Halloway, it must +be replied that Amo grudged no glory to her sister county of Carlow, but, +if Amo could find envy in her heart it would be because Carlow possessed a +paper so sterling, so upright, so brilliant, so enterprising as the +"Carlow County Herald," and a journalist so talented, so gifted, so +energetic, so fearless, as its editor. + +The gentleman referred to showed very faint appreciation of these ringing +compliments. There was a lamp on the table beside him, against which, to +the view of Miss Sherwood of Rouen, his face was silhouetted, and very +rarely had it been her lot to see a man look less enthusiastic under +public and favorable comment of himself. She wondered if he, also, +remembered the Muggleton cricket match and the subsequent dinner oratory. + +The lecture proceeded. The orator winged away to soary heights with +gestures so vigorous as to cause admiration for his pluck in making use of +them on such a night; the perspiration streamed down his face, his neck +grew purple, and he dared the very face of apoplexy, binding his auditors +with a double spell. It is true that long before the peroration the +windows were empty and the boys were eating stolen, unripe fruit in the +orchards of the listeners. The thieves were sure of an alibi. + +The Hon. Mr. Halloway reached a logical conclusion which convinced even +the combative and unwilling that the present depends largely upon the +past, while the future will be determined, for the most part, by the +conditions of the present. "The future," he cried, leaning forward with an +expression of solemn warning, "The future is in our own hands, ladies and +gentlemen of the city of Plattville. Is it not so? We will find it so. +Turn it over in your minds." He leaned backward and folded his hands +benevolently on his stomach and said in a searching whisper; "Ponder it." +He waited for them to ponder it, and little Mr. Swanter, the druggist and +bookseller, who prided himself on his politeness and who was seated +directly in front, scratched his head and knit his brows to show that he +was pondering it. The stillness was intense; the fans ceased to beat; Mr. +Snoddy could be heard breathing dangerously. Mr. Swanter was considering +the advisability of drawing a pencil from his pocket and figuring on it +upon his cuff, when suddenly, with the energy of a whirlwind, the lecturer +threw out his arms to their fullest extent and roared: "It is a _fact_! It +is carven on stone in the gloomy caverns of TIME. It is writ in FIRE on +the imperishable walls of Fate!" + +After the outburst, his voice sank with startling rapidity to a tone of +honeyed confidence, and he wagged an inviting forefinger at Mr. Snoddy, +who opened his mouth. "Shall we take an example? Not from the marvellous, +my friends; let us seek an illustration from the ordinary. Is that not +better? One familiar to the humblest of us. One we can all comprehend. One +from our every-day life. One which will interest even the young. Yes. The +common house-fly. On a window-sill we place a bit of fly-paper, and +contiguous to it, a flower upon which the happy insect likes to feed and +rest. The little fly approaches. See, he hovers between the two. One is a +fatal trap, an ambuscade, and the other a safe harbor and an innocuous +haven. But mystery allures him. He poises, undecided. That is the present. +That, my friends, is the Present! What will he do? WHAT will he do? What +will he DO? Memories of the past are whispering to him: 'Choose the +flower. Light on the posy.' Here we clearly see the influence of the past +upon the present. But, to employ a figure of speech, the fly-paper beckons +to the insect toothsomely, and, thinks he; 'Shall I give it a try? Shall +I? Shall I give it a try?' The future is in his own hands to make or +unmake. The past, the voice of Providence, has counselled him: 'Leave it +alone, leave it alone, little fly. Go away from there.' Does he heed the +warning? Does he heed it, ladies and gentlemen? Does he? Ah, no! He +springs into the air, decides between the two attractions, one of them, so +deadly to his interests and--_drops upon the fly-paper to perish +miserably_! The future is in his hands no longer. We must lie upon the bed +that we have made, nor can Providence change its unalterable decrees." + +After the tragedy, the orator took a swallow of water, mopped his brow +with the figured handkerchief and announced that a new point herewith +presented itself for consideration. The audience sank back with a gasp of +release from the strain of attention. Minnie Briscoe, leaning back, +breathless like the others, became conscious that a tremor agitated her +visitor. Miss Sherwood had bent her head behind the shelter of the judge's +broad shoulders; was shaking slightly and had covered her face with her +hands. + +"What is it, Helen?" whispered Miss Briscoe, anxiously. "What is it? Is +something the matter?" + +"Nothing. Nothing, dear." She dropped her hands from her face. Her cheeks +were deep crimson, and she bit her lip with determination. + +"Oh, but there is! Why, you've tears in your eyes. Are you faint? What is +it?" + +"It is only--only----" Miss Sherwood choked, then cast a swift glance at +the profile of the melancholy young man. The perfectly dismal decorum of +this gentleman seemed to inspire her to maintain her own gravity. "It is +only that it seemed such a pity about that fly," she explained. From where +they sat the journalistic silhouette was plainly visible, and both Fisbee +and Miss Sherwood looked toward it often, the former with the wistful, +apologetic fidelity one sees in the eyes of an old setter watching his +master. + +When the lecture was over many of the audience pressed forward to shake +the Hon. Mr. Halloway's hand. Tom Martin hooked his arm in that of the +sallow gentleman and passed out with him. + +"Mighty humanizin' view Kedge took of that there insect," remarked Mr. +Martin. "I don't recollect I ever heard of no mournfuller error than +that'n. I noticed you spoke of Halloway as a 'thinker,' without mentioning +what kind. I didn't know, before, that you were as cautious a man as +that." + +"Does your satire find nothing sacred, Martin?" returned the other, "not +even the Honorable Kedge Halloway?" + +"I wouldn't presume," replied old Tom, "to make light of the catastrophe +that overtook the heedless fly. When Halloway went on to other subjects I +was so busy picturin' the last moments of that closin' life, stuck there +in the fly-paper, I couldn't listen to him. But there's no use dwellin' on +a sorrow we can't help. Look at the moon; it's full enough to cheer us +up." They had emerged from the court-house and paused on the street as the +stream of townsfolk divided and passed by them to take different routes +leading from the Square. Not far away, some people were getting into a +buckboard. Fisbee and Miss Sherwood were already on the rear seat. + +"Who's with him, to-night, Mr. Fisbee?" asked Judge Briscoe in a low +voice. + +"No one. He is going directly to the office. To-morrow is Thursday, one of +our days of publication." + +"Oh, then it's all right. Climb in, Minnie, we're waiting for you." The +judge offered his hand to his daughter. + +"In a moment, father," she answered. "I'm going to ask him to call," she +said to the other girl. + +"But won't he--" + +Miss Briscoe laughed. "He never comes to see me!" She walked over to where +Martin and the young man were looking up at the moon, and addressed the +journalist. + +"I've been trying to get a chance to speak to you for a week," she said, +offering him her hand; "I wanted to tell you I had a friend coming to +visit me Won't you come to see us? She's here." + +The young man bowed. "Thank you," he answered. "Thank you, very much. I +shall be very glad." His tone had the meaningless quality of perfunctory +courtesy; Miss Briscoe detected only the courtesy; but the strange lady +marked the lack of intention in his words. + +"Don't you include me, Minnie?" inquired Mr Martin, plaintively. "I'll try +not to be too fascinatin', so as to give our young friend a show. It was +love at first sight with me. I give Miss Seliny warning soon as your folks +come in and I got a good look at the lady." + +As the buckboard drove away, Miss Sherwood, who had been gazing +steadfastly at the two figures still standing in the street, the tall +ungainly old one, and the taller, loosely-held young one (he had not +turned to look at her) withdrew her eyes from them, bent them seriously +upon Fisbee, and asked: "What did you mean when you said no one was with +him to-night?" + +"That no one was watching him," he answered. + +"Watching him? I don't understand." + +"Yes; he has been shot at from the woods at night and----" + +The girl shivered. "But who watches him?" + +"The young men of the town. He has a habit of taking long walks after +dark, and he is heedless of all remonstrance. He laughs at the idea of +curtailing the limit of his strolls or keeping within the town when night +has fallen; so the young men have organized a guard for him, and every +evening one of them follows him until he goes to the office to work for +the night. It is a different young man every evening, and the watcher +follows at a distance so that he does not suspect." + +"But how many people know of this arrangement?" + +"Nearly every one in the county except the Cross-Roads people, though it +is not improbable that they have discovered it." + +"And has no one told him" + +"No; it would annoy him; he would not allow it to continue. He will not +even arm himself." + +"They follow and watch him night after night, and every one knows and no +one tells him? Oh, I must say," cried the girl, "I think these are good +people." + +The stalwart old man on the front seat shook out the reins and whined the +whip over his roans' backs. "They are the people of your State and mine. +Miss Sherwood," he said in his hearty voice, "the best people in God's +world--and I'm not running for Congress, either!" + +"But how about the Six-Cross-Roads people, father?" asked Minnie. + +"We'll wipe them clean out some day," answered her father--"possibly +judicially, possibly----" + +"Surely judiciously?" suggested Miss Sherwood. + +"If you care to see what a bad settlement looks like, we'll drive through +there to-morrow--by daylight," said Briscoe. "Even the doctor doesn't +insist on being in that neighborhood after dark. They are trying their +best to get Harkless, and if they do----" + +"If they do!" repeated Miss Sherwood. She clasped Fisbee's hand gently. +His eyes shone and he touched her fingers with a strange, shy reverence. + +"You will meet him to-morrow," he said. + +She laughed and pressed his hand. "I'm afraid not. He wasn't even +interested enough to look at me." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +LONESOMENESS + +When the rusty hands of the office clock marked half-past four, the +editor-in-chief of the "Carlow County Herald" took his hand out of his +hair, wiped his pen on his last notice from the White-Caps, put on his +coat, swept out the close little entry, and left the sanctum for the +bright June afternoon. + +He chose the way to the west, strolling thoughtfully out of town by the +white, hot, deserted Main Street, and thence onward by the country road +into which its proud half-mile of old brick store buildings, tumbled-down +frame shops and thinly painted cottages degenerated. The sun was in his +face, where the road ran between the summer fields, lying waveless, low, +gracious in promise; but, coming to a wood of hickory and beech and walnut +that stood beyond, he might turn his down-bent-hat-brim up and hold his +head erect. Here the shade fell deep and cool on the green tangle of rag +and iron weed and long grass in the corners of the snake fence, although +the sun beat upon the road so dose beside. There was no movement in the +crisp young leaves overhead; high in the boughs there was a quick flirt of +crimson where two robins hopped noiselessly. No insect raised resentment +of the lonesomeness: the late afternoon, when the air is quite still, had +come; yet there rested--somewhere--on the quiet day, a faint, pleasant, +woody smell. It came to the editor of the "Herald" as he climbed to the +top rail of the fence for a seat, and he drew a long, deep breath to get +the elusive odor more luxuriously--and then it was gone altogether. + +"A habit of delicacies," he said aloud, addressing the wide silence +complainingly. He drew a faded tobacco-bag and a brier pipe from his coat +pocket and filled and lit the pipe. "One taste--and they quit," he +finished, gazing solemnly upon the shining little town down the road. He +twirled the pouch mechanically about his finger, and then, suddenly +regarding it, patted it caressingly. It had been a giddy little bag, long +ago, satin, and gay with embroidery in the colors of the editor's +university; and although now it was frayed to the verge of tatters, it +still bore an air of pristine jauntiness, an air of which its owner in no +wise partook. He looked from it over the fields toward the town in the +clear distance and sighed softly as he put the pouch back in his pocket, +and, resting his arm on his knee and his chin in his hand, sat blowing +clouds of smoke out of the shade into the sunshine, absently watching the +ghostly shadows dance on the white dust of the road. + +A little garter snake crept under the fence beneath him and disappeared in +the underbrush; a rabbit progressing timidly on his travels by a series of +brilliant dashes and terror-smitten halts, came within a few yards of him, +sat up with quivering nose and eyes alight with fearful imaginings-- +vanished, a flash of fluffy brown and white. Shadows grew longer; the +brier pipe sputtered feebly in depletion and was refilled. A cricket +chirped and heard answer; there was a woodland stir of breezes; and the +pair of robins left the branches overhead in eager flight, vacating before +the arrival of a great flock of blackbirds hastening thither ere the +eventide should be upon them. The blackbirds came, chattered, gossiped, +quarrelled, and beat each other with their wings above the smoker sitting +on the top fence rail. + +But he had remembered--it was Commencement. To-day, a thousand miles to +the east, a company of grave young gentlemen sat in semi-circular rows +before a central altar, while above them rose many tiers of mothers and +sisters and sweethearts, listening to the final word. He could see it all +very clearly: the lines of freshly shaven, boyish faces, the dainty gowns, +the flowers and bright eyes above, and the light that filtered in through +stained glass to fall softly over them all, with, here and there, a vivid +splash of color, Gothic shaped. He could see the throngs of white-clad +loungers under the elms without, under-classmen, bored by the Latin +addresses and escaped to the sward and breeze of the campus; there were +the troops of roistering graduates trotting about arm in arm, and singing; +he heard the mandolins on the little balconies play an old refrain and +the university cheering afterward; saw the old professor he had cared for +most of all, with the thin white hair straggling over his silken hood, +following the band in the sparse ranks of his class. And he saw his own +Commencement Day--and the station at the junction where he stood the +morning after, looking across the valley at the old towers for the last +time; saw the broken groups of his class, standing upon the platform on +the other side of the tracks, waiting for the south-bound train as he and +others waited for the north-bound--and they all sang "Should auld +acquaintance be forgot;" and, while they looked across at each other, +singing, the shining rails between them wavered and blurred as the engine +rushed in and separated them and their lives thenceforth. He filled his +pipe again and spoke to the phantoms gliding over the dust--"Seven years!" +He was occupied with the realization that there had been a man in his +class whose ambition needed no restraint, his promise was so complete--in +the strong belief of the university, a belief he could not help knowing-- +and that seven years to a day from his Commencement this man was sitting +on a fence rail in Indiana. + +Down the road a buggy came creaking toward him, gray with dust, the top +canted permanently to one side, old and frayed, like the fat, shaggy, gray +mare that drew it; her unchecked, despondent head lowering before her, +while her incongruous tail waved incessantly, like the banner of a +storming party. The editor did not hear the flop of the mare's feet nor +the sound of the wheels, so deep was his reverie, till the vehicle was +nearly opposite him. The red-faced and perspiring driver drew rein, and +the journalist looked up and waved a long white hand to him in greeting. + +"Howdy' do, Mr. Harkless?" called the man in the buggy. "Soakin' in the +weather?" He spoke in shouts, though neither was hard of hearing. + +"Yes; just soaking," answered Harkless; "it's such a gypsy day. How is Mr. +Bowlder?" + +"I'm givin' good satisfaction, thankye, and all at home. She's in town; +goin' in after her now." + +"Give Mrs. Bowlder my regards," said the journalist, comprehending the +symbolism. "How is Hartley?" + +The farmer's honest face shaded over, a second. "He's be'n steady ever +sence the night you brought him out home; six weeks straight. I'm kind of +bothered about to-morrow--It's show-day and he wants to come in town with +us, and seems if I hadn't any call to say no. I reckon he'll have to take +his chances--and us, too." He raised the reins and clucked to the gray +mare; "Well, she'll be mad I ain't there long ago. Ride in with me?" + +"No, I thank you. I'll walk in for the sake of my appetite." + +"Wouldn't encourage it _too_ much--livin' at the Palace Hotel,'" observed +Bowlder. "Sorry ye won't ride." He gathered the loose ends of the reins in +his hands, leaned far over the dashboard and struck the mare a hearty +thwack; the tattered banner of tail jerked indignantly, but she consented +to move down the road. Bowlder thrust his big head through the sun-curtain +behind him and continued the conversation: "See the White-Caps ain't got +ye yet." + +"No, not yet." Harkless laughed. + +"Reckon the boys 'druther ye stayed in town after dark," the other called +back; then, as the mare stumbled into a trot, "Well, come out and see us-- +if ye kin spare time from the jedge's." The latter clause seemed to be an +afterthought intended with humor, for Bowlder accompanied it with the loud +laughter of sylvan timidity, risking a joke. Harkless nodded without the +least apprehension of his meaning, and waved farewell as Bowlder finally +turned his attention to the mare. When the flop, flop of her hoofs had +died out, the journalist realized that the day was silent no longer; it +was verging into evening. + +He dropped from the fence and turned his face toward town and supper. He +felt the light and life about him; heard the clatter of the blackbirds +above him; heard the homing bees hum by, and saw the vista of white road +and level landscape, framed on two sides by the branches of the grove, a +vista of infinitely stretching fields of green, lined here and there with +woodlands and flat to the horizon line, the village lying in their lap. No +roll of meadow, no rise of pasture land, relieved their serenity nor +shouldered up from them to be called a hill. A second great flock of +blackbirds was settling down over the Plattville maples. As they hung in +the fair dome of the sky below the few white clouds, it occurred to +Harkless that some supping god had inadvertently peppered his custard, and +now inverted and emptied his gigantic blue dish upon the earth, the +innumerable little black dots seeming to poise for a moment, then floating +slowly down from the heights. + +A farm-bell rang in the distance, a tinkling coming small and mellow from +far away, and at the lonesomeness of that sound he heaved a long, mournful +sigh. The next instant he broke into laughter, for another bell rang over +the fields, the court-house bell in the Square. The first four strokes +were given with mechanical regularity, the pride of the custodian who +operated the bell being to produce the effect of a clock-work bell such as +he had once heard in the court-house at Rouen; but the fifth and sixth +strokes were halting achievements, as, after four o'clock, he often lost +count on the strain of the effort for precise imitation. There was a pause +after the sixth, then a dubious and reluctant stroke--seven--a longer +pause, followed by a final ring with desperate decision--eight! Harkless +looked at his watch; it was twenty minutes of six. + +As he crossed the court-house yard to the Palace Hotel, he stopped to +exchange a word with the bell-ringer, who, seated on the steps, was +mopping his brow with an air of hard-earned satisfaction. + +"Good-evening, Schofields'," he said. "You came in strong on the last +stroke, to-night." + +"What we need here," responded the bell-ringer, "is more public-spirited +men. I ain't kickin' on you, Mr. Harkless, no sir; but we want more men +like they got in Rouen; we want men that'll git Main Street paved with +block or asphalt; men that'll put in factories, men that'll act and not +set round like that ole fool Martin and laugh and polly-woggle and make +fun of public sperrit, day in and out. I reckon I do my best for the +city." + +"Oh, nobody minds Tom Martin," answered Harkless. "It's only half the time +he means anything by what he says." + +"That's jest what I hate about him," returned the bell-ringer in a tone of +high complaint; "you can't never tell which half it is. Look at him now!" +Over in front of the hotel Martin was standing, talking to the row of +coatless loungers who sat with their chairs tilted back against the props +of the wooden awning that projected over the sidewalk. Their faces were +turned toward the court-house, and even those lost in meditative whittling +had looked up to laugh. Martin, his hands in the pockets of his alpaca +coat, his rusty silk hat tilted forward till the wide brim rested almost +on the bridge of his nose, was addressing them in his one-keyed voice, the +melancholy whine of which, though not the words, penetrated to the court- +house steps. + +The bell-ringer, whose name was Henry Schofield, but who was known as +Schofield's Henry (popularly abbreviated to Schofields') was moved to +indignation. "Look at him," he cried. "Look at him! Everlastingly goin' on +about my bell! Let him talk, jest let him talk." The supper gong boomed +inside the hotel and Harkless bade the bell-ringer good-night. As he moved +away the latter called after him: "He don't disturb nobody. Let him talk. +Who pays any 'tention to him I'd like to know?" There was a burst of +laughter from the whittlers. Schofields' sat in patient silence for a full +minute, as one who knew that no official is too lofty to escape the +anathemas of envy. Then he sprang to his feet and shook his fist at +Martin, who was disappearing within the door of the hotel. "Go to +Halifax!" he shouted. + +The dining-room of the Palace Hotel was a large, airy apartment, rustling +with artistically perforated and slashed pink paper that hung everywhere, +at this season of the year, to lend festal effect as well as to palliate +the scourge of flies. There were six or seven large tables, all vacant +except that at which Columbus Landis, the landlord, sat with his guests, +while his wife and children ate in the kitchen by their own preference. +Transient trade was light in Plattville; nobody ever came there, except +occasional commercial travellers who got out of town the instant it was +possible, and who said awful things if, by the exigencies of the railway +time-table, they were left over night. + +Behind the host's chair stood a red-haired girl in a blue cotton gown; and +in her hand she languidly waved a long instrument made of clustered strips +of green and white and yellow tissue paper fastened to a wooden wand; +with this she amiably amused the flies except at such times as the +conversation proved too interesting, when she was apt to rest it on the +shoulder of one of the guests. This happened each time the editor of the +"Herald" joined in the talk. As the men seated themselves they all nodded +to her and said, "G'd evening, Cynthy." Harkless always called her +Charmion; no one knew why. When he came in she moved around the table to a +chair directly opposite him, and held that station throughout the meal, +with her eyes fixed on his face. Mr. Martin noted this manoeuvre--it +occurred regularly twice a day--with a stealthy smile at the girl, and her +light skin flushed while her lip curled shrewishly at the old gentleman. +"Oh, all right, Cynthy," he whispered to her, and chuckled aloud at her +angry toss of the head. + +"Schofields' seemed to be kind of put out with me this evening," he +remarked, addressing himself to the company. "He's the most ungratefullest +cuss I ever come up with. I was only oratin' on how proud the city ought +to be of him. He fairly keeps Plattville's sportin' spirit on the gog; +'die out, wasn't for him. There's be'n more money laid on him whether +he'll strike over and above the hour, or under and below, or whether he'll +strike fifteen minutes before time, or twenty after, than--well, sir, we'd +all forgit the language if it wasn't for Schofields' bell to keep us +talkin'; that's _my_ claim. Dull days, think of the talk he furnishes all +over town. Think what he's done to promote conversation. Now, for +instance, Anna Belle Bardlock's got a beau, they say"--here old Tom tilted +back in his chair and turned an innocent eye upon a youth across the +table, young William Todd, who was blushing over his griddle-cakes--"and I +hear he's a good deal scared of Anna Belle and not just what you might +call brash with her. They say every Sunday night he'll go up to Bardlocks' +and call on Anna Belle from half-past six till nine, and when he's got +into his chair he sets and looks at the floor and the crayon portraits +till about seven; then he opens his tremblin' lips and says, 'Reckon +Schofields' must be on his way to the court-house by this time.' And about +an hour later, when Schofields' hits four or five, he'll speak up again, +'Say, I reckon he means eight.' 'Long towards nine o'clock, they say he +skews around in his chair and says, 'Wonder if he'll strike before time or +after,' and Anna Belle answers out loud, 'I hope after,' for politeness; +but in her soul she says, 'I pray before'; and then Schofields' hits her +up for eighteen or twenty, and Anna Belle's company reaches for his hat. +Three Sundays ago he turned around before he went out and said, 'Do you +like apple-butter?' but never waited to find out. It's the same programme +every Sunday evening, and Jim Bardlock says Anna Belle's so worn out you +wouldn't hardly know her for the blithe creature she was last year--the +excitement's be'n too much for her!" + +Poor William Todd bent his fiery face over the table and suffered the +general snicker in helpless silence. Then there was quiet for a space, +broken only by the click of knives against the heavy china and the +indolent rustle of Cynthia's fly-brush. + +"Town so still," observed the landlord, finally, with a complacent glance +at the dessert course of prunes to which his guests were helping +themselves from a central reservoir, "Town so still, hardly seems like +show-day's come round again. Yet there's be'n some shore signs lately: +when my shavers come honeyin' up with, 'Say, pa, ain't they no urrands I +can go for ye, pa? I like to run 'em for you, pa,'--'relse, 'Oh, pa, ain't +they no water I can haul, or nothin', pa?'--'relse, as little Rosina T. +says, this morning, 'Pa, I always pray fer _you_ pa,' and pa this and pa +that-you can rely either Christmas or show-day's mighty close." + +William Todd, taking occasion to prove himself recovered from confusion, +remarked casually that there was another token of the near approach of the +circus, as ole Wilkerson was drunk again. + +"There's a man!" exclaimed Mr. Martin with enthusiasm. "There's the +feller for _my_ money! He does his duty as a citizen more discriminatin'ly +on public occasions than any man I ever see. There's Wilkerson's +celebration when there's a funeral; look at the difference between it and +on Fourth of July. Why, sir, it's as melancholy as a hearse-plume, and +sympathy ain't the word for it when he looks at the remains, no sir; +preacher nor undertaker, either, ain't _half_ as blue and respectful. Then +take his circus spree. He come into the store this afternoon, head up, +marchin' like a grenadier and shootin' his hand out before his face and +drawin' it back again, and hollering out, 'Ta, ta, ta-ra-ta, ta, ta-ta- +ra'--why, the dumbest man ever lived could see in a minute show's 'comin' +to-morrow and Wilkerson's playin' the trombone. Then he'd snort and goggle +like an elephant. Got the biggest sense of appropriateness of any man in +the county, Wilkerson has. Folks don't half appreciate him." + +As each boarder finished his meal he raided the glass of wooden toothpicks +and went away with no standing on the order of his going; but Martin +waited for Harkless, who, not having attended to business so concisely as +the others, was the last to leave the table, and they stood for a moment +under the awning outside, lighting their cigars. + +"Call on the judge, to-night?" asked Martin. + +"No," said Harkless. "Why?" + +"Didn't you see the lady with Minnie and the judge at the lecture?" + +"I caught a glimpse of her. That's what Bowlder meant, then." + +"I don't know what Bowlder meant, but I guess you better go out there, +young man. She might not stay here long." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER + +The Briscoe buckboard rattled along the elastic country-road, the roans +setting a sharp pace as they turned eastward on the pike toward home and +supper. + +"They'll make the eight miles in three-quarters of an hour," said the +judge, proudly. He pointed ahead with his whip. "Just beyond that bend we +pass through Six-Cross-Roads." + +Miss Sherwood leaned forward eagerly. "Can we see 'Mr. Wimby's' house from +here?" + +"No, it's on the other side, nearer town; we pass it later. It's the only +respectable-looking house in this township." They reached the turn of the +road, and the judge touched up his colts to a sharper gait. "No need of +dallying," he observed quietly. "It always makes me a little sick just to +see the place. I'd hate to have a break-down here." + +They came in sight of a squalid settlement, built raggedly about a +blacksmith's shop and a saloon. Half-a-dozen shanties clustered near the +forge, a few roofs scattered through the shiftlessly cultivated fields, +four or five barns propped by fence-rails, some sheds with gaping +apertures through which the light glanced from side to side, a squad of +thin, "razor-back" hogs--now and then worried by gaunt hounds--and some +abused-looking hens, groping about disconsolately in the mire, a broken- +topped buggy with a twisted wheel settling into the mud of the middle of +the road (there was always abundant mud, here, in the dryest summer), a +lowering face sneering from a broken window--Six-Cross-Roads was +forbidding and forlorn enough by day. The thought of what might issue from +it by night was unpleasant, and the legends of the Cross-Roads, together +with an unshapen threat, easily fancied in the atmosphere of the place, +made Miss Sherwood shiver as though a cold draught had crossed her. + +"It is so sinister!" she exclaimed. "And so unspeakably mean! This is +where they live, the people who hate him, is it? The 'White-Caps'?" + +"They are just a lot of rowdies," replied Briscoe. "You have your rough +corners in big cities, and I expect there are mighty few parts of any +country that don't have their tough neighborhoods, only Six-Cross-Roads +happens to be worse than most. They choose to call themselves 'White- +Caps,' but I guess it's just a name they like to give themselves. Usually +White-Caps are a vigilance committee going after rascalities the law +doesn't reach, or won't reach, but these fellows are not that kind. They +got together to wipe out their grudges--and sometimes they didn't need any +grudge and let loose their deviltries just for pure orneriness; setting +haystacks afire and such like; or, where a farmer had offended them, they +would put on their silly toggery and take him out at midnight and whip him +and plunder his house and chase the horses and cattle into his corn, +maybe. They say the women went with them on their raids." + +"And he was the first to try to stop them?" + +"Well, you see our folks are pretty long-suffering," Briscoe replied, +apologetically. "We'd sort of got used to the meanness of the Cross-Roads. +It took a stranger to stir things up--and he did. He sent eight of 'em to +the penitentiary, some for twenty years." + +As they passed the saloon a man stepped into the doorway and looked at +them. He was coatless and clad in garments worn to the color of dust; his +bare head was curiously malformed, higher on one side than on the other, +and though the buckboard passed rapidly, and at a distance, this singular +lopsidedness was plainly visible to the occupants, lending an ugly +significance to his meagre, yellow face. He was tall, lean, hard, +powerfully built. He eyed the strangers with affected languor, and then, +when they had gone by, broke into sudden, loud laughter. + +"That was Bob Skillett, the worst of the lot," said the judge. "Harkless +sent his son and one brother to prison, and it nearly broke his heart that +he couldn't swear to Bob." + +When they were beyond the village and in the open road again. Miss +Sherwood took a deep breath. "I think I breathe more freely," she said. +"That was a hideous laugh he sent after us. I had heard of places like +this before--and I don't think I care to see many of them. As I understand +it, Six-Cross-Roads is entirely vicious, isn't it; and bears the same +relation to the country that the slums do to a city?'" + +"That's about it. They make their own whiskey. I presume; and they have +their own fights amongst themselves, but they settle 'em themselves, too, +and keep their own counsel and hush it up. Lige Willetts, Minnie's friend +--I guess she's told you about Lige?--well, Lige Willetts will go anywhere +when he's following a covey, though mostly the boys leave this part of the +country alone when they're hunting; but Lige got into a thicket back of +the forge one morning, and he came on a crowd of buzzards quarrelling over +a heap on the ground, and he got out in a hurry. He said he was sure it +was a dog; but he ran almost all the way to Plattville." + +"Father!" exclaimed his daughter, leaning from the back seat. "Don't tell +such stories to Helen; she'll think we're horrible, and you'll frighten +her, too." + +"Well, it isn't exactly a lady's story," said the judge. He glanced at his +guest's face and chuckled. "I guess we won't frighten her much," he went +on. "Young lady, I don't believe you'd be afraid of many things, would +you? You don't look like it. Besides, the Cross-Roads isn't Plattville, +and the White-Caps have been too scared to do anything much, except try to +get even with the 'Herald,' for the last two years; ever since it went for +them. They're laying for Harkless partly for revenge and partly because +they daren't do anything until he's out of the way." + +The girl gave a low cry with a sharp intake of breath. "Ah! One grows +tired of this everlasting American patience! Why don't the Plattville +people do something before they----" + +"It's just as I say," Briscoe answered; "our folks are sort of used to +them. I expect we do about all we can; the boys look after him nights, and +the main trouble is that we can't make him understand he ought to be more +afraid of them. If he'd lived here all his life he would be. You know +there's an old-time feud between the Cross-Roads and our folks; goes way +back into pioneer history and mighty few know anything of it. Old William +Platt and the forefathers of the Bardlocks and Tibbses and Briscoes and +Schofields moved up here from North Carolina a good deal just to get away +from some bad neighbors, mostly Skilletts and Johnsons--one of the +Skilletts had killed old William Platt's two sons. But the Skilletts and +Johnsons followed all the way to Indiana to join in making the new +settlement, and they shot Platt at his cabin door one night, right where +the court-house stands to-day. Then the other settlers drove them out for +good, and they went seven miles west and set up a still. A band of +Indians, on the way to join the Shawnee Prophet at Tippecanoe, came down +on the Cross-Roads, and the Cross-Roaders bought them off with bad whiskey +and sent them over to Plattville. Nearly all the Plattville men were away, +fighting under Harrison, and when they came back there were only a few +half-crazy women and children left. They'd hid in the woods. + +"The men stopped just long enough to hear how it was, and started for the +Cross-Roads; but the Cross-Roads people caught them in an ambush and not +many of our folks got back. + +"We really never did get even with them, though all the early settlers +lived and died still expecting to see the day when Plattville would go +over and pay off the score. It's the same now as it was then, good stock +with us, bad stock over here; and all the country riff-raff in creation +come and live with 'em when other places get too hot to hold them. Only +one or two of us old folks know what the original trouble was about; but +you ask a Plattville man, to-day, what he thinks of the Cross-Roads and +he'll be mighty apt to say, 'I guess we'll all have to go over there some +time and wipe those hoodlums out.' It's been coming to that a long time. +The work the 'Herald' did has come nearer bringing us even with Six-Cross- +Roads than anything else ever has. Queer, too--a man that's only lived in +Plattville a few years to be settling such an old score for us. They'll do +their best to get him, and if they do there'll be trouble of an illegal +nature. I think our people would go over there again, but I expect there +wouldn't be any ambush this time; and the pioneers, might rest easier in--" +He broke off suddenly and nodded to a little old man in a buckboard, +who was turning off from the road into a farm lane which led up to a trim +cottage with a honeysuckle vine by the door. "That's Mrs. Wimby's +husband," said the judge in an undertone. + +Miss Sherwood observed that "Mrs. Wimby's husband" was remarkable for the +exceeding plaintiveness of his expression. He was a weazened, blank, pale- +eyed little man, with a thin, white mist of neck whisker; his coat was so +large for him that the sleeves were rolled up from his wrists with several +turns, and, as he climbed painfully to the ground to open the gate of the +lane, it needed no perspicuous eye to perceive that his trousers had been +made for a much larger man, for, as his uncertain foot left the step of +his vehicle, one baggy leg of the garment fell down over his foot, +completely concealing his boot and hanging some inches beneath. A faintly +vexed expression crossed his face as he endeavored to arrange the +disorder, but he looked up and returned Briscoe's bow, sadly, with an air +of explaining that he was accustomed to trouble, and that the trousers had +behaved no worse than he expected. + +No more inoffensive or harmless figure than this feeble little old man +could be imagined; yet his was the distinction of having received a +terrible visit from his neighbors of the Cross-Roads. Mrs. Wimby was a +widow, who owned a comfortable farm, and she had refused every offer of +the neighboring ill-eligible bachelors to share it. However, a vagabonding +tinker won her heart, and after their marriage she continued to be known +as "Mrs. Wimby"; for so complete was the bridegroom's insignificance that +it extended to his name, which proved quite unrememberable, and he was +usually called "Widder-Woman Wimby's Husband," or, more simply, "Mr. +Wimby." The bride supplied the needs of his wardrobe with the garments of +her former husband, and, alleging this proceeding as the cause of their +anger, the Cross-Roads raiders, clad as "White-Caps," broke into the +farmhouse one night, looted it, tore the old man from his bed, and +compelling his wife, who was tenderly devoted to him, to watch, they +lashed him with sapling shoots till he was near to death. A little yellow +cur, that had followed his master on his wanderings, was found licking the +old man's wounds, and they deluged the dog with kerosene and then threw +the poor animal upon a bonfire they had made, and danced around it in +heartiest enjoyment. + +The man recovered, but that was no palliation of the offense to the mind +of a hot-eyed young man from the East, who was besieging the county +authorities for redress and writing brimstone and saltpetre for his paper. +The powers of the county proving either lackadaisical or timorous, he +appealed to those of the State, and he went every night to sleep at a +farmhouse, the owner of which had received a warning from the "White- +Caps." And one night it befell that he was rewarded, for the raiders +attempted an entrance. He and the farmer and the former's sons beat off +the marauders and did a satisfactory amount of damage in return. Two of +the "White-Caps" they captured and bound, and others they recognized. Then +the State authorities hearkened to the voice of the "Herald" and its +owner; there were arrests, and in the course of time there was a trial. +Every prisoner proved an alibi, could have proved a dozen; but the editor +of the "Herald," after virtually conducting the prosecution, went upon the +stand and swore to man after man. Eight men went to the penitentiary on +his evidence, five of them for twenty years. The Plattville Brass Band +serenaded the editor of the "Herald" again. + +There were no more raids, and the Six-Cross-Roads men who were left kept +to their hovels, appalled and shaken, but, as time went by and left them +unmolested, they recovered a measure of their hardiness and began to think +on what they should do to the man who had brought misfortune and terror +upon them. For a long time he had been publishing their threatening +letters and warnings in a column which he headed: "Humor of the Day." + +"Harkless don't understand the Cross-Roads," Briscoe said to Miss Sherwood +as they left the Wimby farm behind; "and then he's like most of us; hardly +any of us realizes that harm's ever going to come to _us_. Harkless was +anxious enough about other people, but----" + +The young lady interrupted him, touching his arm. "Look!" she said, +"Didn't you see a child, a little girl, ahead of us on the road?" + +"I noticed one a minute ago, but she's not there now," answered Briscoe. + +"There was a child walking along the road just ahead, but she turned and +saw us coming, and she disappeared in the most curious way; she seemed to +melt into the weeds at the roadside, across from the elder-bush yonder." + +The judge pulled in the horses by the elder-bush. "No child here, now," he +said, "but you're right; there certainly was one, just before you spoke." +The young corn was low in the fields, and there was no hiding-place in +sight. + +"I'm very superstitious; I am sure it was an imp," Miss Sherwood said. "An +imp or a very large chameleon; she was exactly the color of the road." + +"A Cross-Roads imp," said the judge, lifting the reins, "and in that case +we might as well give up. I never set up to be a match for those people, +and the children are as mean as their fathers, and smarter." + +When the buckboard had rattled on a hundred yards or so, a little figure +clad in a tattered cotton gown rose up from the weeds, not ten feet from +where the judge had drawn rein, and continued its march down the road +toward Plattville, capering in the dust and pursuing the buckboard with +malignant gestures till the clatter of the horses was out of hearing, the +vehicle out of sight. + + + +Something over two hours later, as Mr. Martin was putting things to rights +in his domain, the Dry-Goods Emporium, previous to his departure for the +evening's gossip and checkers at the drug-store, he stumbled over +something soft, lying on the floor behind a counter. The thing rose, and +would have evaded him, but he put out his hands and pinioned it and +dragged it to the show-window where the light of the fading day defined +his capture. The capture shrieked and squirmed and fought earnestly. +Grasped by the shoulder he held a lean, fierce-eyed, undersized girl of +fourteen, clad in one ragged cotton garment, unless the coat of dust she +wore over all may be esteemed another. Her cheeks were sallow, and her +brow was already shrewdly lined, and her eyes were as hypocritical as they +were savage. She was very thin and little, but old Tom's brown face grew a +shade nearer white when the light fell upon her. + +"You're no Plattville girl," he said sharply. + +"You lie!" cried the child. "You lie! I am! You leave me go, will you? I'm +lookin' fer pap and you're a liar!" + +"You crawled in here to sleep, after your seven-mile walk, didn't you?" +Martin went on. + +"You're a liar," she screamed again. + +"Look here," said Martin, slowly, "you go back to Six-Cross-Roads and tell +your folks that if anything happens to a hair of Mr. Harkless's head every +shanty in your town will burn, and your grandfather and your father and +your uncles and your brothers and your cousins and your second-cousins and +your third-cousins will never have the good luck to see the penitentiary. +Reckon you can remember that message? But before I let you go to carry it, +I guess you might as well hand out the paper they sent you over here +with." + +His prisoner fell into a paroxysm of rage, and struck at him. + +"I'll git pap to kill ye," she shrieked. "I don' know nothin' 'bout yer +Six-Cross-Roads, ner no papers, ner yer dam Mister Harkels neither, ner +_you_, ye razor-backed ole devil! Pap'll kill ye; leave me go--leave me +_go_!--Pap'll kill ye; I'll git him to _kill_ ye!" Suddenly her struggles +ceased; her eyes closed; her tense little muscles relaxed and she drooped +toward the floor; the old man shifted his grip to support her, and in an +instant she twisted out of his hands and sprang out of reach, her eyes +shining with triumph and venom. + +"Ya-hay, Mister Razor-back!" she shrilled. "How's that fer hi? Pap'll kill +ye, Sunday. You'll be screechin' in hell in a week, an' we 'ull set up an' +drink our apple-jack an' laff!" Martin pursued her lumberingly, but she +was agile as a monkey, and ran dodging up and down the counters and mocked +him, singing "Gran' mammy Tipsy-Toe," till at last she tired of the game +and darted out of the door, flinging back a hoarse laugh at him as she +went. He followed; but when he reached the street she was a mere shadow +flitting under the courthouse trees. He looked after her forebodingly, +then turned his eyes toward the Palace Hotel. The editor of the "Herald" +was seated under the awning, with his chair tilted back against a post, +gazing dreamily at the murky red afterglow in the west. + +"What's the use of tryin' to bother him with it?" old Tom asked himself. +"He'd only laugh." He noted that young William Todd sat near the editor, +whittling absently. Martin chuckled. "William's turn to-night," he +muttered. "Well, the boys take mighty good care of him." He locked the +doors of the Emporium, tried them, and dropped the keys in his pocket. + +As he crossed the Square to the drug-store, where his cronies awaited him, +he turned again to look at the figure of the musing journalist. "I hope +he'll go out to the judge's," he said, and shook his head, sadly. "I don't +reckon Plattville's any too spry for that young man. Five years he's be'n +here. Well, it's a good thing for us folks, but I guess it ain't exactly +high-life for him." He kicked a stick out of his way impatiently. "Now, +where'd that imp run to?" he grumbled. + +The imp was lying under the court-house steps. When the sound of Martin's +footsteps had passed away, she crept cautiously from her hiding-place and +stole through the ungroomed grass to the fence opposite the hotel. Here +she stretched herself flat in the weeds and took from underneath the +tangled masses of her hair, where it was tied with a string, a rolled-up, +crumpled slip of greasy paper. With this in her fingers, she lay peering +under the fence, her fierce eyes fixed unwinkingly on Harkless and the +youth sitting near him. + +The street ran flat and gray in the slowly gathering dusk, straight to the +western horizon where the sunset embers were strewn in long, dark-red +streaks; the maple trees were clean-cut silhouettes against the pale rose +and pearl tints of the sky above, and a tenderness seemed to tremble in +the air. Harkless often vowed to himself he would watch no more sunsets in +Plattville; he realized that their loveliness lent a too unhappy tone to +the imaginings and introspections upon which he was thrown by the +loneliness of the environment, and he considered that he had too much time +in which to think about himself. For five years his introspections had +monotonously hurled one word at him: "Failure; Failure! Failure!" He +thought the sunsets were making him morbid. Could he have shared them, +that would have been different. + +His long, melancholy face grew longer and more melancholy in the twilight, +while William Todd patiently whittled near by. Plattville had often +discussed the editor's habit of silence, and Mr. Martin had suggested that +possibly the reason Mr. Harkless was such a quiet man was that there was +nobody for him to talk to. His hearers did not agree, for the population +of Carlow County was a thing of pride, being greater than that of several +bordering counties. They did agree, however, that Harkless's quiet was not +unkind, whatever its cause, and that when it was broken it was usually +broken to conspicuous effect. Perhaps it was because he wrote so much that +he hated to talk. + +A bent figure came slowly down the street, and William hailed it +cheerfully: "Evening, Mr. Fisbee." + +"A good evening, Mr. Todd," answered the old man, pausing. "Ah, Mr. +Harkless, I was looking for you." He had not seemed to be looking for +anything beyond the boundaries of his own dreams, but he approached +Harkless, tugging nervously at some papers in his pocket. "I have +completed my notes for our Saturday edition. It was quite easy; there is +much doing." + +"Thank you, Mr. Fisbee," said Harkless, as he took the manuscript. "Have +you finished your paper on the earlier Christian symbolism? I hope the +'Herald' may have the honor of printing it." This was the form they used. + +"I shall be the recipient of honor, sir," returned Fisbee. "Your kind +offer will speed my work; but I fear, Mr. Harkless, I very much fear, that +your kindness alone prompts it, for, deeply as I desire it, I cannot +truthfully say that my essays appear to increase our circulation." He made +an odd, troubled gesture as he went on: "They do not seem to read them +here, Mr. Harkless, although Mr. Martin assures me that he carefully +peruses my article on Chaldean decoration whenever he rearranges his +exhibition windows, and I bear in mind the clipping from a Rouen paper you +showed me, commenting generously upon the scholarship of the 'Herald.' But +for fifteen years I have tried to improve the art feeling in Plattville, +and I may say that I have worked in the face of no small discouragement. +In fact," (there was a slight quaver in Fisbee's voice), "I cannot +remember that I ever received the slightest word or token of encouragement +till you came, Mr. Harkless. Since then I have labored with refreshed +energy; still, I cannot claim that our architecture shows a change for the +better, and I fear the engravings upon the walls of our people exhibit no +great progress in selection. And--I--I wish also to say, Mr. Harkless, if +you find it necessary to make some alterations in the form of my +reportorial items for Saturday's issue, I shall perfectly understand, +remembering your explanation that journalism demands it. Good-evening, Mr. +Harkless. Good-evening, Mr. Todd." He plodded on a few paces, then turned, +irresolutely. + +"What is it, Fisbee?" asked Harkless. + +Fisbee stood for a moment, as though about to speak, then he smiled +faintly, shook his head, and went his way. Harkless stared after him, +surprised. It suddenly struck him, with a feeling of irritation, that if +Fisbee had spoken it would have been to advise him to call at Judge +Briscoe's. He laughed impatiently at the notion, and, drawing his pencil +and a pad from his pocket, proceeded to injure his eyes in the waning +twilight by the editorial perusal of the items his staff had just left in +his hands. When published, the manuscript came under a flaring heading, +bequeathed by Harkless's predecessor in the chair of the "Herald," and the +alteration of which he felt Plattville would refuse to sanction: +"Happenings of Our City." Below, was printed in smaller type: +"Improvements in the World of Business," and, beneath that, came the +rubric: "Also, the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb." + +The first of Fisbee's items was thus recorded: "It may be noted that the +new sign-board of Mr. H. Miller has been put in place. We cannot but +regret that Mr. Miller did not instruct the painter to confine himself to +a simpler method of lettering." + +"Ah, Fisbee," murmured the editor, reproachfully, "that new sign-board is +almost the only improvement in the World of Business Plattville has seen +this year. I wonder how many times we have used it from the first, 'It is +rumored in business circles that Herve Miller contemplates'--to the +exciting, 'Under Way,' and, 'Finishing Touches.' My poor White Knight, are +five years of training wasted on you? Sometimes you make me fear it. Here +is Plattville panting for our story of the hanging of the sign, and you +throw away the climax like that!" He began to write rapidly, bending low +over the pad in the half darkness. His narrative was an amplification of +the interesting information (already possessed by every inhabitant) that +Herve Miller had put up a new sign. After a paragraph of handsome +description, "Herve is always enterprising," wrote the editor. "This is a +move in the right direction. Herve, keep it up." + +He glanced over the other items meditatively, making alterations here and +there. The last two Fisbee had written as follows: + +"There is noticeable in the new (and somewhat incongruous) portico erected +by Solomon Tibbs at the residence of Mr. Henry Tibbs Willetts, an attempt +at rococo decoration which cannot fail to sadden the passer-by." + +"Miss Sherwood of Rouen, whom Miss Briscoe knew at the Misses Jennings' +finishing-school in New York, is a guest of Judge Briscoe's household." + +Fisbee's items were written in ink; and there was a blank space beneath +the last. At the bottom of the page something had been scribbled in +pencil. Harkless tried vainly to decipher it, but the twilight had fallen +too deep, and the writing was too faint, so he struck a match and held it +close to the paper. The action betokened only a languid interest, but when +he caught sight of the first of the four subscribed lines he sat up +straight in his chair with an ejaculation. At the bottom of Fisbee's page +was written in a dainty, feminine hand, of a type he had not seen for +years: + + "'The time has come,' the Walrus said, + 'To talk of many things: + Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- + And cabbages--and kings--'" + +He put the paper in his pocket, and set off rapidly down the village +street. + +At his departure William Todd looked up quickly; then he got upon his feet +and quietly followed the editor. In the dusk a tattered little figure rose +up from the weeds across the way, and stole noiselessly after William. He +was in his shirt-sleeves, his waistcoat unbuttoned and loose. On the +nearest corner Mr. Todd encountered a fellow-townsman, who had been pacing +up and down in front of a cottage, crooning to a protestive baby held in +his arms. He had paused in his vigil to stare after Harkless. + +"Whereas he bound for, William?" inquired the man with the baby. + +"Briscoes'," answered William, pursuing his way. + +"I reckoned he would be," commented the other, turning to his wife, who +sat on the doorstep, "I reckoned so when I see that lady at the lecture +last night." + +The woman rose to her feet. "Hi, Bill Todd!" she said. "What you got onto +the back of your vest?" William paused, put his hand behind him and +encountered a paper pinned to the dangling strap of his waistcoat. The +woman ran to him and unpinned the paper. It bore a writing. They took it +to where the yellow lamp-light shone through the open door, and read: + "der Sir + "FoLer harkls aL yo ples an gaRd him yoR + best venagesn is closteR, harkls not Got 3 das to liv + "We come in Wite." + +"What ye think, William?" asked the man with the baby, anxiously. But the +woman gave the youth a sharp push with her hand. "They never dast to do +it!" she cried. "Never in the world! You hurry, Bill Todd. Don't you leave +him out of your sight one second." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +AT THE PASTURE BARS: ELDER-BUSHES MAY HAVE STINGS + +The street upon which the Palace Hotel fronted formed the south side of +the Square and ran west to the edge of the town, where it turned to the +south for a quarter of a mile or more, then bent to the west again. Some +distance from this second turn, there stood, fronting close on the road, a +large brick house, the most pretentious mansion in Carlow County. And yet +it was a homelike place, with its red-brick walls embowered in masses of +cool Virginia creeper, and a comfortable veranda crossing the broad front, +while half a hundred stalwart sentinels of elm and beech and poplar stood +guard around it. The front walk was bordered by geraniums and hollyhocks; +and honeysuckle climbed the pillars of the porch. Behind the house there +was a shady little orchard; and, back of the orchard, an old-fashioned, +very fragrant rose-garden, divided by a long grape arbor, extended to the +shallow waters of a wandering creek; and on the bank a rustic seat was +placed, beneath the sycamores. + +From the first bend of the road, where it left the town and became (after +some indecision) a country highway--called the pike--rather than a proud +city boulevard, a pathway led through the fields to end at some pasture +bars opposite the brick house. + +John Harkless was leaning on the pasture bars. The stars were wan, and the +full moon shone over the fields. Meadows and woodlands lay quiet under the +old, sweet marvel of a June night. In the wide monotony of the flat lands, +there sometimes comes a feeling that the whole earth is stretched out +before one. To-night it seemed to lie so, in the pathos of silent beauty, +all passive and still; yet breathing an antique message, sad, mysterious, +reassuring. But there had come a divine melody adrift on the air. Through +the open windows it floated. Indoors some one struck a peal of silver +chords, like a harp touched by a lover, and a woman's voice was lifted. +John Harkless leaned on the pasture bars and listened with upraised head +and parted lips. + +"To thy chamber window roving, love hath led my feet." + +The Lord sent manna to the children of Israel in the wilderness. Harkless +had been five years in Plattville, and a woman's voice singing Schubert's +serenade came to him at last as he stood by the pasture bars of Jones's +field and listened and rested his dazzled eyes on the big, white face of +the moon. + +How long had it been since he had heard a song, or any discourse of music +other than that furnished by the Plattville Band--not that he had not +taste for a brass band! But music that he loved always gave him an ache of +delight and the twinge of reminiscences of old, gay days gone forever. +To-night his memory leaped to the last day of a June gone seven years; to +a morning when the little estuary waves twinkled in the bright sun about +the boat in which he sat, the trim launch that brought a cheery party +ashore from their schooner to the Casino landing at Winter Harbor, far up +on the Maine coast. + +It was the happiest of those last irresponsible days before he struck into +his work in the world and became a failure. To-night he saw the picture as +plainly as if it were yesterday; no reminiscence had risen so keenly +before his eyes for years: pretty Mrs. Van Skuyt sitting beside him-- +pretty Mrs. Van Skuyt and her roses! What had become of her? He saw the +crowd of friends waiting on the pier for their arrival, and the dozen or +so emblazoned classmates (it was in the time of brilliant flannels) who +suddenly sent up a volley of college cheers in his honor--how plainly the +dear, old, young faces rose up before him to-night, the men from whose +lives he had slipped! Dearest and jolliest of the faces was that of Tom +Meredith, clubmate, classmate, his closest friend, the thin, red-headed +third baseman; he could see Tom's mouth opened at least a yard, it seemed, +such was his frantic vociferousness. Again and again the cheers rang out, +"Harkless! Harkless!" on the end of them. In those days everybody +(particularly his classmates) thought he would be minister to England in a +few years, and the orchestra on the Casino porch was playing "The +Conquering Hero," in his honor, and at the behest of Tom Meredith, he +knew. + +There were other pretty ladies besides Mrs. Van Skuyt in the launch-load +from the yacht, but, as they touched the pier, pretty girls, or pretty +women, or jovial gentlemen, all were overlooked in the wild scramble the +college men made for their hero. They haled him forth, set him on high, +bore him on their shoulders, shouting "Skal to the Viking!" and carried +him up the wooded bluff to the Casino. He heard Mrs. Van Skuyt say, "Oh, +we're used to it; we've put in at several other places where he had +friends!" He struggled manfully to be set down, but his triumphal +procession swept on. He heard bystanders telling each other, "It's that +young Harkless, 'the Great Harkless,' they're all so mad about"; and while +it pleased him a little to hear such things, they always made him laugh a +great deal. He had never understood his popularity: he had been chief +editor of the university daily, and he had done a little in athletics, and +the rest of his distinction lay in college offices his mates had heaped +upon him without his being able to comprehend why they did it. And yet, +somehow, and in spite of himself, they had convinced him that the world +was his oyster; that it would open for him at a touch. He could not help +seeing how the Freshmen looked at him, how the Sophomores jumped off the +narrow campus walks to let him pass; he could not help knowing that he was +the great man of his time, so that "The Great Harkless" came to be one of +the traditions of the university. He remembered the wild progress they +made for him up the slope that morning at Winter Harbor, how the people +baked on, and laughed, and clapped their hands. But at the veranda edge he +had noticed a little form disappearing around a corner of the building; a +young girl running away as fast as she could. + +"See there!" he said, as the tribe set him down, "You have frightened the +populace." And Tom Meredith stopped shouting long enough to answer, "It's +my little cousin, overcome with emotion. She's been counting the hours +till you came--been hearing of you from me and others for a good while; +and hasn't been able to talk or think of anything else. She's only +fifteen, and the crucial moment is too much for her--the Great Harkless +has arrived, and she has fled." + +He remembered other incidents of his greatness, of the glory that now +struck him as rarely comical; be hoped he hadn't taken it too seriously +then, in the flush of his youth. Maybe, after all, he had been a, big- +headed boy, but he must have bottled up his conceit tightly enough, or the +other boys would have detected it and abhorred him. He was inclined to +believe that he had not been very much set up by the pomp they made for +him. At all events, that day at Winter Harbor had been beautiful, full of +the laughter of friends and music; for there was a musicale at the Casino +in the afternoon. + +But the present hour grew on him as he leaned on the pasture bars, and +suddenly his memories sped; and the voice that was singing Schubert's +serenade across the way touched him with the urgent, personal appeal that +a present beauty always had for him. It was a soprano; and without +tremolo, yet came to his ear with a certain tremulous sweetness; it was +soft and slender, but the listener knew it could be lifted with fullness +and power if the singer would. It spoke only of the song, yet the listener +thought of the singer. Under the moon thoughts run into dreams, and he +dreamed that the owner of the voice, she who quoted "The Walrus and the +Carpenter" on Fisbee's notes, was one to laugh with you and weep with you; +yet her laughter would be tempered with sorrow, and her tears with +laughter. + +When the song was ended, he struck the rail he leaned upon a sharp blow +with his open hand. There swept over him a feeling that he had stood +precisely where he stood now, on such a night, a thousand years ago, had +heard that voice and that song, had listened and been moved by the song, +and the night, just as he was moved now. + +He had long known himself for a sentimentalist; he had almost given up +trying to cure himself. And he knew himself for a born lover; he had +always been in love with some one. In his earlier youth his affections had +been so constantly inconstant that he finally came to settle with his +self-respect by recognizing in himself a fine constancy that worshipped +one woman always--it was only the shifting image of her that changed! +Somewhere (he dreamed, whimsically indulgent of the fancy; yet mocking +himself for it) there was a girl whom he had never seen, who waited till +he should come. She was Everything. Until he found her, he could not help +adoring others who possessed little pieces and suggestions of her--her +brilliancy, her courage, her short upper lip, "like a curled roseleaf," or +her dear voice, or her pure profile. He had no recollection of any lady +who had quite her eyes. + +He had never passed a lovely stranger on the street, in the old days, +without a thrill of delight and warmth. If he never saw her again, and the +vision only lasted the time it takes a lady to cross the sidewalk from a +shop door to a carriage, he was always a little in love with her, because +she bore about her, somewhere, as did every pretty girl he ever saw, a +suggestion of the far-away divinity. One does not pass lovely strangers in +the streets of Plattville. Miss Briscoe was pretty, but not at all in the +way that Harkless dreamed. For five years the lover in him that had loved +so often had been starved of all but dreams. Only at twilight and dusk in +the summer, when, strolling, he caught sight of a woman's skirt, far up +the village street--half-outlined in the darkness under the cathedral arch +of meeting branches--this romancer of petticoats could sigh a true lover's +sigh, and, if he kept enough distance between, fly a yearning fancy that +his lady wandered there. + +Ever since his university days the image of her had been growing more and +more distinct. He had completely settled his mind as to her appearance and +her voice. She was tall, almost too tall, he was sure of that; and out of +his consciousness there had grown a sweet and vivacious young face that he +knew was hers. Her hair was light-brown with gold lustres (he reveled in +the gold lustres, on the proper theory that when your fancy is painting a +picture you may as well go in for the whole thing and make it sumptuous), +and her eyes were gray. They were very earnest, and yet they sparkled and +laughed to him companionably; and sometimes he had smiled back upon her. +The Undine danced before him through the lonely years, on fair nights in +his walks, and came to sit by his fire on winter evenings when he stared +alone at the embers. + +And to-night, here in Plattville, he heard a voice he had waited for long, +one that his fickle memory told him he had never heard before. But, +listening, he knew better--he had heard it long ago, though when and how, +he did not know, as rich and true, and ineffably tender as now. He threw a +sop to his common sense. "Miss Sherwood is a little thing" (the image was +so surely tall) "with a bumpy forehead and spectacles," he said to +himself, "or else a provincial young lady with big eyes to pose at you." +Then he felt the ridiculousness of looking after his common sense on a +moonlight night in June; also, he knew that he lied. + +The song had ceased, but the musician lingered, and the keys were touched +to plaintive harmonies new to him. He had come to Plattville before +"Cavalleria Rusticana" was sung at Rome, and now, entranced, he heard the +"Intermezzo" for the first time. Listening to this, he feared to move lest +he should wake from a summer-night's dream. + +A ragged little shadow flitted down the path behind him, and from a +solitary apple-tree, standing like a lonely ghost in the middle of the +field, came the _woo_ of a screech owl--twice. It was answered--twice-- +from a clump of elder-bushes that grew in a fence-corner fifty yards west +of the pasture bars. Then the barrel of a squirrel rifle issued, lifted +out of the white elder-blossoms, and lay along the fence. The music in the +house across the way ceased, and Harkless saw two white dresses come out +through the long parlor windows to the veranda. + +"It will be cooler out here," came the voice of the singer clearly through +the quiet. "What a night!" + +John vaulted the bars and started to cross the road. They saw him from the +veranda, and Miss Briscoe called to him in welcome. As his tall figure +stood out plainly in the bright light against the white dust, a streak of +fire leaped from the elder-blossoms and there rang out the sharp report of +a rifle. There were two screams from the veranda. One white figure ran +into the house. The other, a little one with a gauzy wrap streaming +behind, came flying out into the moonlight--straight to Harkless. There +was a second report; the rifle-shot was answered by a revolver. William +Todd had risen up, apparently from nowhere, and, kneeling by the pasture +bars, fired at the flash of the rifle. + +"Jump fer the shadder, Mr. Harkless," he shouted; "he's in them elders," +and then: "Fer God's sake, comeback!" + +Empty-handed as he was, the editor dashed for the treacherous elder-bush +as fast as his long legs could carry him; but, before he had taken six +strides, a hand clutched his sleeve, and a girl's voice quavered from +close behind him: + +"Don't run like that, Mr. Harkless; I can't keep up!" He wheeled about, +and confronted a vision, a dainty little figure about five feet high, a +flushed and lovely face, hair and draperies disarranged and flying. He +stamped his foot with rage. "Get back in the house!" he cried. + +"You mustn't go," she panted. "It's the only way to stop you." + +"Go back to the house!" he shouted, savagely. + +"Will you come?" + +"Fer God's sake," cried William Todd, "come back! Keep out of the road." +He was emptying his revolver at the clump of elder, the uproar of his +firing blasting the night. Some one screamed from the house: + +"Helen! Helen!" + +John seized the girl's wrists roughly; her gray eyes flashed into his +defiantly. "Will you go?" he roared. + +"No!" + +He dropped her wrists, caught her up in his arms as if she had been a +kitten, and leaped into the shadow of the trees that leaned over the road +from the yard. The rifle rang out again, and the little ball whistled +venomously overhead. Harkless ran along the fence and turned in at the +gate. + +A loose strand of the girl's hair blew across his cheek, and in the moon +her head shone with gold. She had light-brown hair and gray eyes and a +short upper lip like a curled rose-leaf. He set her down on the veranda +steps. Both of them laughed wildly. + +"But you came with me!" she gasped triumphantly. + +"I always thought you were tall," he answered; and there was afterward a +time when he had to agree that this was a somewhat vague reply. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +JUNE + +Judge Briscoe smiled grimly and leaned on his shot-gun in the moonlight by +the veranda. He and William Todd had been trampling down the elder-bushes, +and returning to the house, found Minnie alone on the porch. "Safe?" he +said to his daughter, who turned an anxious face upon him. "They'll be +safe enough now, and in our garden." + +"Maybe I oughtn't to have let them go," she returned, nervously. + +"Pooh! They're all right; that scalawag's half-way to Six-Cross-Roads by +this time, isn't he, William?" + +"He tuck up the fence like a scared rabbit," Mr. Todd responded, looking +into his hat to avoid meeting the eyes of the lady. "I didn't have no call +to toller, and he knowed how to run, I reckon. Time Mr. Harkless come out +the yard again, he was near out o' sight, and we see him take across the +road to the wedge-woods, near half-a-mile up. Somebody else with him then +--looked like a kid. Must 'a' cut acrost the field to join him. They're +fur enough towards home by this." + +"Did Miss Helen shake hands with you four or five times?" asked Briscoe, +chuckling. + +"No. Why?" + +"Because Harkless did. My hand aches, and I guess William's does, too; he +nearly shook our arms off when we told him he'd been a fool. Seemed to do +him good. I told him he ought to hire somebody to take a shot at him every +morning before breakfast--not that it's any joking matter," the old +gentleman finished, thoughtfully. + +"I should say not," said William, with a deep frown and a jerk of his head +toward the rear of the house. "_He_ jokes about it enough. Wouldn't even +promise to carry a gun after this. Said he wouldn't know how to use it. +Never shot one off since he was a boy, on the Fourth of July. This is the +third time he's be'n shot at this year, but he says the others was at a-- +a--what'd he call it?" + +"'A merely complimentary range,'" Briscoe supplied. He handed William a +cigar and bit the end off another himself. "Minnie, you better go in the +house and read, I expect--unless you want to go down the creek and join +those folks." + +"_Me_!" she responded. "I know when to stay away, I guess. Do go and put +that terrible gun up." + +"No," said Briscoe, lighting his cigar, deliberately. "It's all safe; +there's no question of that; but maybe William and I better go out and +take a smoke in the orchard as long as they stay down at the creek." + +In the garden, shafts of white light pierced the bordering trees and fell +where June roses lifted their heads to breathe the mild night breeze, and +here, through summer spells, the editor of the "Herald" and the lady who +had run to him at the pasture bars strolled down a path trembling with +shadows to where the shallow creek tinkled over the pebbles. They walked +slowly, with an air of being well-accustomed friends and comrades, and for +some reason it did not strike either of them as unnatural or +extraordinary. They came to a bench on the bank, and he made a great fuss +dusting the seat for her with his black slouch hat. Then he regretted the +hat--it was a shabby old hat of a Carlow County fashion. + +It was a long bench, and he seated himself rather remotely toward the end +opposite her, suddenly realizing that he had walked very close to her, +coming down the narrow garden path. Neither knew that neither had spoken +since they left the veranda; and it had taken them a long time to come +through the little orchard and the garden. She rested her chin on her +hand, leaning forward and looking steadily at the creek. Her laughter had +quite gone; her attitude seemed a little wistful and a little sad. He +noted that her hair curled over her brow in a way he had not pictured in +the lady of his dreams; this was so much lovelier. He did not care for +tall girls; he had not cared for them for almost half an hour. It was so +much more beautiful to be dainty and small and piquant. He had no notion +that he was sighing in a way that would have put a furnace to shame, but +he turned his eyes from her because he feared that if he looked longer he +might blurt out some speech about her beauty. His glance rested on the +bank; but its diameter included the edge of her white skirt and the tip of +a little, white, high-heeled slipper that peeped out beneath it; and he +had to look away from that, too, to keep from telling her that he meant to +advocate a law compelling all women to wear crisp, white gowns and white +slippers on moonlight nights. + +She picked a long spear of grass from the turf before her, twisted it +absently in her fingers, then turned to him slowly. Her lips parted as if +to speak. Then she turned away again. The action was so odd, and somehow, +as she did it, so adorable, and the preserved silence was such a bond +between them, that for his life he could not have helped moving half-way +up the bench toward her. + +"What is it?" he asked; and he spoke in a whisper he might have used at +the bedside of a dying friend. He would not have laughed if he had known +he did so. She twisted the spear of grass into a little ball and threw it +at a stone in the water before she answered. + +"Do you know, Mr. Harkless, you and I haven't 'met,' have we? Didn't we +forget to be presented to each other?" + +"I beg your pardon. Miss Sherwood. In the perturbation of comedy I +forgot." + +"It was melodrama, wasn't it?" she said. He laughed, but she shook her +head. + +"Comedy," he answered, "except your part of it, which you shouldn't have +done. It was not arranged in honor of 'visiting ladies.' But you mustn't +think me a comedian. Truly, I didn't plan it. My friend from Six-Cross- +Roads must be given the credit of devising the scene-though you divined +it!" + +"It was a little too picturesque, I think. I know about Six-Cross-Roads. +Please tell me what you mean to do." + +"Nothing. What should I?" + +"You mean that you will keep on letting them shoot at you, until they-- +until you--" She struck the bench angrily with her hand. + +"There's no summer theatre in Six-Cross-Roads; there's not even a church. +Why shouldn't they?" he asked gravely. "During the long and tedious +evenings it cheers the poor Cross-Reader's soul to drop over here and take +a shot at me. It whiles away dull care for him, and he has the additional +exercise of running all the way home." + +"Ah!" she cried indignantly, "they told me you always answered like this!" + +"Well, you see the Cross-Roads efforts have proved so purely hygienic for +me. As a patriot I have sometimes felt extreme mortification that such bad +marksmanship should exist in the county, but I console myself with the +thought that their best shots are unhappily in the penitentiary." + +"There are many left. Can't you understand that they will organize again +and come in a body, as they did before you broke them up? And then, if +they come on a night when they know you are wandering out of town----" + +"You have not the advantage of an intimate study of the most exclusive +people of the Cross-Roads, Miss Sherwood. There are about twenty gentlemen +who remain in that neighborhood while their relatives sojourn under +discipline. If you had the entree over there, you would understand that +these twenty could not gather themselves into a company and march the +seven miles without physical debate in the ranks. They are not precisely +amiable people, even amongst themselves. They would quarrel and shoot +each other to pieces long before they got here." + +"But they worked in a company once." + +"Never for seven miles. Four miles was their radius. Five would see them +all dead." + +She struck the bench again. "Oh, you laugh at me! You make a joke of your +own life and death, and laugh at everything! Have five years of Plattville +taught you to do that?" + +"I laugh only at taking the poor Cross-Roaders too seriously. I don't +laugh at your running into fire to help a fellow-mortal." + +"I knew there wasn't any risk. I knew he had to stop to load before he +shot again." + +"He did shoot again. If I had known you before to-night--I--" His tone +changed and he spoke gravely. "I am at your feet in worship of your +philanthropy. It's so much finer to risk your life for a stranger than for +a friend." + +"That is rather a man's point of view, isn't it?" + +"You risked yours for a man you had never seen before." + +"Oh, no! I saw you at the lecture; I heard you introduce the Honorable Mr. +Halloway." + +"Then I don't understand your wishing to save me." + +She smiled unwillingly, and turned her gray eyes upon him with troubled +sunniness, and, under the kindness of her regard, he set a watch upon his +lips, though he knew it might not avail him. He had driveled along +respectably so far, he thought, but he had the sentimental longings of +years, starved of expression, culminating in his heart. She continued to +look at him, wistfully, searchingly, gently. Then her eyes traveled over +his big frame from his shoes (a patch of moonlight fell on them; they were +dusty; he drew them under the bench with a shudder) to his broad shoulders +(he shook the stoop out of them). She stretched her small hands toward him +in contrast, and broke into the most delicious low laughter in the world. +At this sound he knew the watch on his lips was worthless. It was a +question of minutes till he should present himself to her eyes as a +sentimental and susceptible imbecile. He knew it. He was in wild spirits. + +"Could you realize that one of your dangers might be a shaking?" she +cried. "Is your seriousness a lost art?" Her laughter ceased suddenly. +"Ah, no. I understand. Thiers said the French laugh always, in order not +to weep. I haven't lived here five years. I should laugh too, if I were +you." + +"Look at the moon," he responded. "We Plattvillains own that with the best +of metropolitans, and, for my part, I see more of it here. You do not +appreciate us. We have large landscapes in the heart of the city, and +what other capital possesses advantages like that? Next winter the railway +station is to have a new stove for the waiting-room. Heaven itself is one +of our suburbs--it is so close that all one has to do is to die. You +insist upon my being French, you see, and I know you are fond of nonsense. +How did you happen to put 'The Walrus and the Carpenter' at the bottom of +a page of Fisbee's notes?" + +"Was it? How were you sure it was I?" + +"In Carlow County!" + +"He might have written it himself." + +"Fisbee has never in his life read anything lighter than cuneiform +inscriptions." + +"Miss Briscoe----" + +"She doesn't read Lewis Carroll; and it was not her hand. What made you +write it on Fisbee's manuscript?" + +"He was with us this afternoon, and I teased him a little about your +heading. 'Business and the Cradle, the Altar, and the Tomb,' isn't it? And +he said it had always troubled him, but that you thought it good. So do I. +He asked me if I could think of anything that you might like better, to +put in place of it, and I wrote, 'The time has come,' because it was the +only thing I could think of that was as appropriate and as fetching as +your headlines. He was perfectly dear about it. He was so serious; he said +he feared it wouldn't be acceptable. I didn't notice that the paper he +handed me to write on was part of his notes, nor did he, I think. +Afterward, he put it back in his pocket. It wasn't a message." + +"I'm not so sure he did not notice. He is very wise. Do you know, somehow, +I have the impression that the old fellow wanted me to meet you." + +"How dear and good of him!" She spoke earnestly, and her face was suffused +with a warm light. There was no doubt about her meaning what she said. + +"It was," John answered, unsteadily. "He knew how great was my need of a +few moments' companionableness with--with----" + +"No," she interrupted. "I meant dear and good to me, because I think he +was thinking of me, and it was for my sake he wanted us to meet." + +It would have been hard to convince a woman, if she had overheard this +speech, that Miss Sherwood's humility was not the calculated affectation +of a coquette. Sometimes a man's unsuspicion is wiser, and Harkless knew +that she was not flirting with him. In addition, he was not a fatuous man; +he did not extend the implication of her words nearly so far as she would +have had him. + +"But I had met you," said he, "long ago." + +"What!" she cried, and her eyes danced. "You actually remember?" + +"Yes; do you?" he answered. "I stood in Jones's field and heard you +singing, and I remembered. It was a long time since I had heard you sing: + + "'I was a ruffler of Flanders, + And fought for a florin's hire. + You were the dame of my captain + And sang to my heart's desire.' + +"But that is the balladist's notion. The truth is that you were a lady at +the Court of Clovis, and I was a heathen captive. I heard you sing a +Christian hymn--and asked for baptism." By a great effort he managed to +look as if he did not mean it. + +But she did not seem over-pleased with his fancy, for, the surprise fading +from her face, "Oh, that was the way you remembered!" she said. + +"Perhaps it was not that way alone. You won't despise me for being mawkish +to-night?" he asked. "I haven't had the chance for so long." + +The night air wrapped them warmly, and the balm of the little breezes +that stirred the foliage around them was the smell of damask roses from +the garden. The creek tinkled over the pebbles at their feet, and a drowsy +bird, half-wakened by the moon, crooned languorously in the sycamores. The +girl looked out at the flashing water through downcast lashes. "Is it +because it is so transient that beauty is pathetic?" she said; "because we +can never come back to it in quite the same way? I am a sentimental girl. +If you are born so, it is never entirely teased out of you, is it? +Besides, to-night is all a dream. It isn't real, you know. You couldn't be +mawkish." + +Her tone was gentle as a caress, and it made him tingle to his finger- +tips. "How do you know?" he asked in a low voice. + +"I just know. Do you think I'm very 'bold and forward'?" she said, +dreamily. + +"It was your song I wanted to be sentimental about. I am like one 'who +through long days of toil'--only that doesn't quite apply--'and nights +devoid of ease'--but I can't claim that one doesn't sleep well here; it is +Plattville's specialty--like one who + + "'Still heard in his soul the music + Of wonderful melodies.'" + +"Those blessed old lines!" she said. "Once a thing is music or poetry, all +the hand-organs and elocutionists in the world cannot ruin it, can they? +Yes; to live here, out of the world, giving up the world, doing good and +working for others, working for a community as you do----" + +"I am not quite shameless," he interrupted, smilingly. "I was given a life +sentence for incompetency, and I've served five years of it, which have +been made much happier than my deserts." + +"No," she persisted, "that is your way of talking of yourself; I know you +would always 'run yourself down,' if one paid any attention to it. But to +give up the world, to drop out of it without regret, to come here and do +what you have done, and to live the life that must be so desperately dry +and dull for a man of your sort, and yet to have the kind of heart that +makes wonderful melodies sing in itself--oh!" she cried, "I say that is +fine!" + +"You do not understand," he returned, sadly, wishing, before her, to be +unmercifully just to himself. "I came here because I couldn't make a +living anywhere else. And the 'wonderful melodies'--I have known you only +one evening--and the melodies--" He rose to his feet and took a few steps +toward the garden. "Come," he said. "Let me take you back. Let us go +before I--" he finished with a helpless laugh. + +She stood by the bench, one hand resting on it; she stood all in the +tremulant shadow. She moved one step toward him, and a single, long sliver +of light pierced the sycamores and fell upon her head. He gasped. + +"What was it about the melodies?" she said. + +"Nothing! I don't know how to thank you for this evening that you have +given me. I--I suppose you are leaving to-morrow. No one ever stays +here.--I----" + +"What about the melodies?" + +He gave it up. "The moon makes people insane!" he cried. + +"If that is true," she returned, "then you need not be more afraid than I, +because 'people' is plural. What were you saying about----" + +"I _had_ heard them--in my heart. When I heard your voice to-night, I knew +that it was you who sang them there--had been singing them for me always." + +"So!" she cried, gaily. "All that debate about a pretty speech!" Then, +sinking before him in a deep courtesy, "I am beholden to you," she said. +"Do you think that no man ever made a little flattery for me before +to-night?" + +At the edge of the orchard, where they could keep an unseen watch on the +garden and the bank of the creek. Judge Briscoe and Mr. Todd were +ensconced under an apple-tree, the former still armed with his shot-gun. +When the two young people got up from their bench, the two men rose +hastily, and then sauntered slowly toward them. When they met, Harkless +shook each of them cordially by the hand, without seeming to know it. + +"We were coming to look for you," explained the judge. "William was afraid +to go home alone; thought some one might take him for Mr. Harkless and +shoot him before he got into town. Can you come out with young Willetts in +the morning, Harkless," he went on, "and go with the ladies to see the +parade? And Minnie wants you to stay to dinner and go to the show with +them in the afternoon." + +Harkless seized his hand and shook it fervently, and then laughed +heartily, as he accepted the invitation. + +At the gate, Miss Sherwood extended her hand to him and said politely, and +with some flavor of mockery: "Good-night, Mr. Harkless. I do not leave +to-morrow. I am very glad to have met you." + +"We are going to keep her all summer if we can," said Minnie, weaving her +arm about her friend's waist. "You'll come in the morning?" + +"Good-night, Miss Sherwood," he returned, hilariously. "It has been such a +pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for saving my life. It was very +good of you indeed. Yes, in the morning. Good-night--good-night." He shook +hands with them all again, including Mr. Todd, who was going with him. + +He laughed most of the way home, and Mr. Todd walked at his side in +amazement. The Herald Building was a decrepit frame structure on Main +Street; it had once been a small warehouse and was now sadly in need of +paint. Closely adjoining it, in a large, blank-looking yard, stood a low +brick cottage, over which the second story of the warehouse leaned in an +effect of tipsy affection that had reminded Harkless, when he first saw +it, of an old Sunday-school book wood-cut of an inebriated parent under +convoy of a devoted child. The title to these two buildings and the blank +yard had been included in the purchase of the "Herald"; and the cottage +was Harkless's home. + +There was a light burning upstairs in the "Herald" office. From the street +a broad, tumble-down stairway ran up on the outside of the building to the +second floor, and at the stairway railing John turned and shook his +companion warmly by the hand. + +"Good-night, William," he said. "It was plucky of you to join in that +muss, to-night. I shan't forget it." + +"I jest happened to come along," replied the other, drowsily; then, with a +portentous yawn, he asked: "Ain't ye goin' to bed?" + +"No; Parker wouldn't allow it." + +"Well," observed William, with another yawn, which bade fair to expose the +veritable soul of him, "I d'know how ye stand it. It's closte on eleven +o'clock. Good-night." + +John went up the steps, singing aloud: + + "For to-night we'll merry, merry be, + For to-night we'll merry, merry be," + +and stopped on the sagging platform at the top of the stairs and gave the +moon good-night with a wave of the hand and friendly laughter. At that it +suddenly struck him that he was twenty-nine years of age; that he had +laughed a great deal that evening; that he had laughed and laughed over +things not in the least humorous, like an excited schoolboy making his +first formal call; that he had shaken hands with Miss Briscoe when he left +her, as if he should never see her again; that he had taken Miss +Sherwood's hand twice in one very temporary parting; that he had shaken +the judge's hand five times, and William's four! + +"Idiot!" he cried. "What has happened to me?" Then he shook his fist at +the moon and went in to work--he thought. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +MORNING: "SOME IN RAGS AND SOME IN TAGS AND SOME IN VELVET GOWNS" + +The bright sun of circus-day shone into Harkless's window, and he awoke to +find himself smiling. For a little while he lay content, drowsily +wondering why he smiled, only knowing that there was something new. It was +thus, as a boy, he had wakened on his birthday mornings, or on Christmas, +or on the Fourth of July, drifting happily out of pleasant dreams into the +consciousness of long-awaited delights that had come true, yet lying only +half-awake in a cheerful borderland, leaving happiness undefined. + +The morning breeze was fluttering at his window blind; a honeysuckle vine +tapped lightly on the pane. Birds were trilling, warbling, whistling. From +the street came the rumbling of wagons, merry cries of greeting, and the +barking of dogs. What was it made him feel so young and strong and light- +hearted? The breeze brought him the smell of June roses, fresh and sweet +with dew, and then he knew why he had come smiling from his dreams. He +would go a holiday-making. With that he leaped out of bed, and shouted +loudly: "Zen! Hello, Xenophon!" + +In answer, an ancient, very black darky put his head in at the door, his +warped and wrinkled visage showing under his grizzled hair like charred +paper in a fall of pine ashes. He said: "Good-mawn', suh. Yessuh. Hit's +done pump' full. Good-mawn', suh." + +A few moments later, the colored man, seated on the front steps of the +cottage, heard a mighty splashing within, while the rafters rang with +stentorian song: + + "He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbon, + To tie up my bonny brown hair + + "Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Oh dear! What can the matter be? + Johnnie's so long at the Fair!" + +At the sound of this complaint, delivered in a manly voice, the listener's +jaw dropped, and his mouth opened and stayed open. "_Him!_" he muttered, +faintly. "_Singin'_!" + + "Well, the old Triangle knew the music of our tread; + How the peaceful Seminole would tremble in his bed!" + +sang the editor. +"I dunno huccome it," exclaimed the old man, "an' dat ain' hyer ner dar; +but, bless Gawd! de young man' happy!" A thought struck him suddenly, and +he scratched his head. "Maybe he goin' away," he said, querulously. "What +become o' ole Zen?" The splashing ceased, but not the voice, which struck +into a noble marching chorus. "Oh, my Lawd," said the colored man, "I pray +you listen at dat!" + + "Soldiers marching up the street, + They keep the time; + They look sublime! + Hear them play Die Wacht am Rhein! + They call them Schneider's Band. + Tra la la la, la!" + +The length of Main Street and all the Square resounded with the rattle of +vehicles of every kind. Since earliest dawn they had been pouring into the +village, a long procession on every country road. There were great red and +blue farm wagons, drawn by splendid Clydesdales; the elders of the family +on the front seat and on boards laid from side to side in front, or on +chairs placed close behind, while, in the deep beds back of these, +children tumbled in the straw, or peeped over the sides, rosy-cheeked and +laughing, eyes alight with blissful anticipations. There were more +pretentious two-seated cut-unders and stout buckboards, loaded down with +merrymakers, four on a seat meant for two; there were rattle-trap phaetons +and comfortable carry-alls drawn by steady spans; and, now and then, mule +teams bringing happy negroes, ready to squander all on the first Georgia +watermelons and cider. Every vehicle contained heaping baskets of good +things to eat (the previous night had been a woeful Bartholomew for Carlow +chickens) and underneath, where the dogs paced faithfully, swung buckets +and fodder for the horses, while colts innumerable trotted dose to the +maternal flanks, viewing the world with their big, new eyes in frisky +surprise. + +Here and there the trim side-bar buggy of some prosperous farmer's son, +escorting his sweetheart, flashed along the road, the young mare stepping +out in pride of blood to pass the line of wagons, the youth who held the +reins, resplendent in Sunday best and even better, his scorched brown face +glowing with a fine belief in the superiority of both his steed and his +lady; the latter beaming out upon life and rejoicing in the light-blue +ribbons on her hat, the light-blue ribbon around her waist, the light- +blue, silk half-mittens on her hands, and the beautiful red coral necklace +about her neck and the red coral buttons that fastened her gown in the +back. + +The air was full of exhilaration; everybody was laughing and shouting and +calling greetings; for Carlow County was turning out, and from far and +near the country people came; nay, from over the county line, clouds of +dust rising from every thoroughfare and highway, and sweeping into town to +herald their coming. + +Dibb Zane, the "sprinkling contractor," had been at work with the town +water-cart since the morning stars were bright, but he might as well have +watered the streets with his tears, which, indeed, when the farmers began +to come in, bringing their cyclones of dust, he drew nigh unto, after a +spell of profanity as futile as his cart. + + "Tief wie das Meer soll deine Liebe sein," + +hummed the editor in the cottage. His song had taken on a reflective tone +as that of one who cons a problem, or musically ponders which card to +play. He was kneeling before an old trunk in his bedchamber. From one +compartment he took a neatly folded pair of duck trousers and a light-gray +tweed coat; from another, a straw hat with a ribbon of bright colors. They +had lain in the trunk a long time undisturbed; and he examined them +musingly. He shook the coat and brushed it; then he laid the garments upon +his bed, and proceeded to shave himself carefully, after which he donned +the white trousers, the gray coat, and, rummaging in the trunk again, +found a gay pink cravat, which he fastened about his tall collar (also a +resurrection from the trunk) with a pearl pin. After that he had a long, +solemn time arranging his hair with a pair of brushes. When at last he was +suited, and his dressing completed, he sallied forth to breakfast. + +Xenophon stared after him as he went out of the gate whistling heartily. +The old darky lifted his hands, palms outward. + +"Lan' name, who dat!" he exclaimed aloud. "Who dat in dem pan-jingeries? +He jine' de circus?" His hands fell upon his knees, and he got to his feet +pneumatically, shaking his head with foreboding. "Honey, honey, hit' baid +luck, baid luck sing 'fo' breakfus. Trouble 'fo' de day be done. Trouble, +honey, gre't trouble. Baid luck, baid luck!" + +Along the Square the passing of the editor in his cool equipment evoked +some gasps of astonishment; and Mr. Tibbs and his sister rushed from the +postoffice to stare after him. + +"He looks just beautiful, Solomon," said Miss Tibbs. + +"But what's the name for them kind of clothes?" inquired her brother. +"'Seems to me there's a special way of callin' 'em. 'Seems as if I see a +picture of 'em, somewheres. Wasn't it on the cover of that there long- +tennis box we bought and put in the window, and the country people thought +it was a seining outfit?" + +"It was a game, the catalogue said," observed Miss Selina. "Wasn't it?" + +"It was a mighty pore investment," the postmaster answered. + +As Harkless approached the hotel, a decrepit old man, in a vast straw hat +and a linen duster much too large for him, came haltingly forward to meet +him. He was Widow-Woman Wimby's husband. And, as did every one else, he +spoke of his wife by the name of her former martial companion. + +"Be'n a-lookin' fer you, Mr. Harkless," he said in a shaking spindle of a +voice, as plaintive as his pale little eyes. "Mother Wimby, she sent some +roses to ye. Cynthy's fixin' 'em on yer table. I'm well as ever I am; but +her, she's too complaining to come in fer show-day. This morning, early, +we see some the Cross-Roads folks pass the place towards town, an' she +sent me in to tell ye. Oh, I knowed ye'd laugh. Says she, 'He's too much +of a man to be skeered,' says she, 'these here tall, big men always 'low +nothin' on earth kin hurt 'em,' says she, 'but you tell him to be +keerful,' says she; an' I see Bill Skillett an' his brother on the Square +lessun a half-an-hour ago, 'th my own eyes. I won't keep ye from yer +breakfast.--Eph Watts is in there, eatin'. He's come back; but I guess I +don't need to warn ye agin' him. He seems peaceable enough. It's the other +folks you got to look out fer." + +He limped away. The editor waved his hand to him from the door, but the +old fellow shook his head, and made a warning, friendly gesture with his +arm. + +Harkless usually ate his breakfast alone, as he was the latest riser in +Plattville. (There were days in the winter when he did not reach the hotel +until eight o'clock.) This morning he found a bunch of white roses, still +wet with dew and so fragrant that the whole room was fresh and sweet with +their odor, prettily arranged in a bowl on the table, and, at his plate, +the largest of all with a pin through the stem. He looked up, smilingly, +and nodded at the red-haired girl. "Thank you, Charmion," he said. "That's +very pretty." + +She turned even redder than she always was, and answered nothing, +vigorously darting her brush at an imaginary fly on the cloth. After +several minutes she said abruptly, "You're welcome." + +There was a silence, finally broken by a long, gasping sigh. Astonished, +he looked at the girl. Her eyes were set unfathomably upon his pink tie; +the wand had dropped from her nerveless hand, and she stood rapt and +immovable. She started violently from her trance. "Ain't you goin' to +finish your coffee?" she asked, plying her instrument again, and, bending +over him slightly, whispered: "Say, Eph Watts is over there behind you." + +At a table in a far corner of the room a large gentleman in a brown frock +coat was quietly eating his breakfast and reading the "Herald." He was of +an ornate presence, though entirely neat. A sumptuous expanse of linen +exhibited itself between the lapels of his low-cut waistcoat, and an inch +of bediamonded breastpin glittered there, like an ice-ledge on a snowy +mountain side. He had a steady, blue eye and a dissipated, iron-gray +mustache. This personage was Mr. Ephraim Watts, who, following a calling +more fashionable in the eighteenth century than in the latter decades of +the nineteenth, had shaken the dust of Carlow from his feet some three +years previously, at the strong request of the authorities. The "Herald" +had been particularly insistent upon his deportation, and, in the local +phrase, Harkless had "run him out of town." Perhaps it was because the +"Herald's" opposition (as the editor explained at the time) had been +merely moral and impersonal, and the editor had always confessed to a +liking for the unprofessional qualities of Mr. Watts, that there was but +slight embarrassment when the two gentlemen met to-day. His breakfast +finished, Harkless went over to the other and extended his hand. Cynthia +held her breath and clutched the back of a chair. However, Mr. Watts made +no motion toward his well-known hip pocket. Instead, he rose, flushed +slightly, and accepted the hand offered him. + +"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Watts," said the journalist, cordially. "Also, +if you are running with the circus and calculate on doing business here +to-day, I'll have to see that you are fired out of town before noon. How +are you? You're looking extremely well." + +"Mr. Harkless," answered Watts, "I cherish no hard feelings, and I never +said but what you done exactly right when I left, three years ago. No, +sir; I'm not here in a professional way at all, and I don't want to be +molested. I've connected myself with an oil company, and I'm down here to +look over the ground. It beats poker and fan-tan hollow, though there +ain't as many chances in favor of the dealer, and in oil it's the farmer +that gets the rake-off. I've come back, but in an enterprising spirit this +time, to open up a new field and shed light and money in Carlow. They told +me never to show my face here again, but if you say I stay, I guess I +stay. I always was sure there was oil in the county, and I want to prove +it for everybody's benefit. Is it all right?" + +"My dear fellow," laughed the young man, shaking the gambler's hand again, +"it is all right. I have always been sorry I had to act against you. +Everything is all right! Stay and bore to Corea if you like. Did ever you +see such glorious weather?" + +"I'll let you in on some shares," Watts called after him as he turned +away. He nodded in reply and was leaving the room when Cynthia detained +him by a flourish of the fly-brush. "Say," she said,--she always called +him "Say"--"You've forgot your flower." + +He came back, and thanked her. "Will you pin it on for me, Charmion?" + +"I don't know what call you got to speak to me out of my name," she +responded, looking at the floor moodily. + +"Why?" he asked, surprised. + +"I don't see why you want to make fun of me." + +"I beg your pardon, Cynthia," he said gravely. "I didn't mean to do that. +I haven't been considerate. I didn't think you'd be displeased. I'm very +sorry. Won't you pin it on my coat?" + +Her face was lifted in grateful pleasure, and she began to pin the rose to +his lapel. Her hands were large and red and trembled. She dropped the +flower, and, saying huskily, "I don't know as I could do it right," seized +violently upon a pile of dishes and hurried from the room. + +Harkless rescued the rose, pinned it on his coat himself, and, observing +internally, for the hundredth time, that the red-haired waitress was the +queerest creature in the village, set forth gaily upon his holiday. + +When he reached the brick house on the pike he discovered a gentleman sunk +in an easy and contemplative attitude in a big chair behind the veranda +railing. At the click of the gate the lounger rose and disclosed the +stalwart figure and brown, smiling, handsome face of Mr. Lige Willetts, an +habitual devotee of Minnie Briscoe, and the most eligible bachelor of +Carlow. "The ladies will be down right off," he said, greeting the +editor's finery with a perceptible agitation and the editor himself with a +friendly shake of the hand. "Mildy says to wait out here." + +But immediately there was a faint rustling within the house: the swish of +draperies on the stairs, a delicious whispering when light feet descend, +tapping, to hearts that beat an answer, the telegraphic message, "We come! +We come! We are near! We are near!" Lige Willetts stared at Harkless. He +had never thought the latter good-looking until he saw him step to the +door to take Miss Sherwood's hand and say in a strange, low, tense voice, +"Good-morning," as if he were announcing, at the least: "Every one in the +world except us two, died last night. It is a solemn thing, but I am very +happy." + +They walked, Minnie and Mr. Willetts a little distance in front of the +others. Harkless could not have told, afterward, whether they rode, or +walked, or floated on an air-ship to the court-house. All he knew +distinctly was that a divinity in a pink shirt waist, and a hat that was +woven of gauzy cloud by mocking fairies to make him stoop hideously to see +under it, dwelt for the time on earth and was at his side, dazzling him in +the morning sunshine. Last night the moon had lent her a silvery glamour; +she had something of the ethereal whiteness of night-dews in that watery +light, a nymph to laugh from a sparkling fountain, at the moon or, as he +thought, remembering her courtesy for his pretty speech, perhaps a little +lady of King Louis's court, wandering down the years from Fontainebleau +and appearing to clumsy mortals sometimes, of a June night when the moon +was in their heads. + +But to-day she was of the clearest color, a pretty girl, whose gray eyes +twinkled to his in gay companionship. He marked how the sunshine was spun +into the fair shadows of her hair and seemed itself to catch a lustre, +rather than to impart it, and the light of the June day drifted through +the gauzy hat, touching her face with a delicate and tender flush that +came and went like the vibrating pink of early dawn. She had the divinest +straight nose, tip-tilted the faintest, most alluring trifle, and a dimple +cleft her chin, "the deadliest maelstrom in the world!" He thrilled +through and through. He had been only vaguely conscious of the dimple in +the night. It was not until he saw her by daylight that he really knew it +was there. + +The village hummed with life before them. They walked through shimmering +airs, sweeter to breathe than nectar is to drink. She caught a butterfly, +basking on a jimson weed, and, before she let it go, held it out to him in +her hand. It was a white butterfly. He asked which was the butterfly. + +"Bravo!" she said, tossing the captive craft above their heads and +watching the small sails catch the breeze; "And so you can make little +flatteries in the morning, too. It is another courtesy you should be +having from me, if it weren't for the dustiness of it. Wait till we come +to the board walk." + +She had some big, pink roses at her waist. "In the meantime," he answered, +indicating these, "I know very well a lad that would be blithe to accept a +pretty token of any lady's high esteem." + +"But you have one, already, a very beautiful one." She gave him a genial +up-and-down glance from head to foot, half quizzical, but so quick he +almost missed it. And then he was glad he had found the straw hat with the +youthful ribbon, and all his other festal vestures. "And a very becoming +flower a white rose is," she continued, "though I am a bold girl to be +blarneying with a young gentleman I met no longer ago than last night." + +"But why shouldn't you blarney with a gentleman, when you began by saving +his life?" + +"Or, rather, when the gentleman had the politeness to gallop about the +county with me tucked under his arm?" She stood still and laughed softly, +but consummately, and her eyes closed tight with the mirth of it. She had +taken one of the roses from her waist, and, as she stood, holding it by +the long stem, its petals lightly pressed her lips. + +"You may have it--in exchange," she said. He bent down to her, and she +began to fasten the pink rose in place of the white one on his coat. She +did not ask him, directly or indirectly, who had put the white one there +for him, because she knew by the way it was pinned that he had done it +himself. "Who is it that ev'ry morning brings me these lovely flow'rs?" +she burlesqued, as he bent over her. + +"'Mr. Wimby,'" he returned. "I will point him out to you. You must see +him, and, also, Mr. Bodeffer, the oldest inhabitant--and crossest." + +"Will you present them to me?" + +"No; they might talk to you and take some of my time with you away from +me." Her eyes sparkled into his for the merest fraction of a second, and +she laughed half mockingly. Then she dropped his lapel and they proceeded. +She did not put the white rose in her belt, but carried it. + +The Square was heaving with a jostling, goodnatured, happy, and constantly +increasing crowd that overflowed on Main Street in both directions; and +the good nature of this crowd was augmented in the ratio that its size +increased. The streets were a confusion of many colors, and eager faces +filled every window opening on Main Street or the Square. Since nine +o'clock all those of the courthouse had been occupied, and here most of +the damsels congregated to enjoy the spectacle of the parade, and their +swains attended, gallantly posting themselves at coignes of less vantage +behind the ladies. Some of the faces that peeped from the dark, old court- +house windows were pretty, and some of them were not pretty; but nearly +all of them were rosy-cheeked, and all were pleasant to see because of the +good cheer they showed. Some of the gallants affected the airy and easy, +entertaining the company with badinage and repartee; some were openly +bashful. Now and then one of the latter, after long deliberation, +constructed a laborious compliment for his inamorata, and, after advancing +and propounding half of it, again retired into himself, smit with a +blissful palsy. Nearly all of them conversed in tones that might have +indicated that they were separated from each other by an acre lot or two. + +Here and there, along the sidewalk below, a father worked his way through +the throng, a licorice-bedaubed cherub on one arm, his coat (borne with +long enough) on the other; followed by a mother with the other children +hanging to her skirts and tagging exasperatingly behind, holding red and +blue toy balloons and delectable batons of spiral-striped peppermint in +tightly closed, sadly sticky fingers. + +A thousand cries rent the air; the strolling mountebanks and gypsying +booth-merchants; the peanut vendors; the boys with palm-leaf fans for +sale; the candy sellers; the popcorn peddlers; the Italian with the toy +balloons that float like a cluster of colored bubbles above the heads of +the crowd, and the balloons that wail like a baby; the red-lemonade man, +shouting in the shrill voice that reaches everywhere and endures forever: +"Lemo! Lemo! Ice-cole lemo! Five cents, a nickel, a half-a-dime, the +twentiethpotofadollah! Lemo! Ice-cole lemo!"--all the vociferating +harbingers of the circus crying their wares. Timid youth, in shoes covered +with dust through which the morning polish but dimly shone, and +unalterably hooked by the arm to blushing maidens, bought recklessly of +peanuts, of candy, of popcorn, of all known sweetmeats, perchance; and +forced their way to the lemonade stands; and there, all shyly, silently +sipped the crimson-stained ambrosia. Everywhere the hawkers dinned, and +everywhere was heard the plaintive squawk of the toy balloon. + +But over all rose the nasal cadence of the Cheap John, reeking oratory +from his big wagon on the corner: "Walk up, walk up, walk up, ladies and +gents! Here we are! Here we are! Make hay while we gather the moss. Walk +up, one and all. Here I put this solid gold ring, sumptuous and golden, +eighteen carats, eighteen golden carats of the priceless mother of metals, +toiled fer on the wild Pacific slope, eighteen garnteed, I put this golden +ring, rich and golden, in the package with the hangkacheef, the elegant +and blue-ruled note-paper, self-writing pens, pencil and penholder. Who +takes the lot? Who takes it, ladies and gents?" + +His tongue curled about his words; he seemed to love them. "Fer a quat-of- +a-dollah! Don't turn away, young man--you feller in the green necktie, +there. We all see the young lady on your arm is a-langrishing fer the +golden ring and the package. Faint heart never won fair wummin'. There you +are, sir, and you'll never regret it. Go--and be happy! Now, who's the +next man to git solid with his girl fer a quat-of-a-dollah? Life is a +mysterus and unviolable shadder, my friends; who kin read its orgeries? +To-day we are here--but to-morrow we may be in jail. Only a quat-of-a- +dollah! We are Seventh-Day Adventists, ladies and gents, a-givin' away our +belongings in the awful face of Michael, fer a quat-of-a-dollah. The same +price fer each-an-devery individual, lady and gent, man, wummin, wife and +child, and happiness to one and all fer a quat-of-a-dollah!" + +Down the middle of the street, kept open between the waiting crowd, ran +barefoot boys, many of whom had not slept at home, but had kept vigil in +the night mists for the coming of the show, and, having seen the muffled +pageant arrive, swathed, and with no pomp and panoply, had returned to +town, rioting through jewelled cobwebs in the morning fields, happy in the +pride of knowledge of what went on behind the scenes. To-night, or +to-morrow, the runaways would face a woodshed reckoning with outraged +ancestry; but now they caracoled in the dust with no thought of the grim +deeds to be done upon them. + +In the court-house yard, and so sinning in the very eye of the law, two +swarthy, shifty-looking gentlemen were operating (with some greasy walnut +shells and a pea) what the fanciful or unsophisticated might have been +pleased to call a game of chance; and the most intent spectator of the +group around them was Mr. James Bardlock, the Town Marshal. He was simply +and unofficially and earnestly interested. Thus the eye of Justice may not +be said to have winked upon the nefariousness now under its vision; it +gazed with strong curiosity, an itch to dabble, and (it must be admitted) +a growing hope of profit. The game was so direct and the player so sure. +Several countrymen had won small sums, and one, a charmingly rustic +stranger, with a peculiar accent (he said that him and his goil should now +have a smoot' old time off his winninks--though the lady was not +manifested), had won twenty-five dollars with no trouble at all. The two +operators seemed depressed, declaring the luck against them and the +Plattville people too brilliant at the game. + +It was wonderful how the young couples worked their way arm-in-arm through +the thickest crowds, never separating. Even at the lemonade stands they +drank holding the glasses in their outer hands--such are the sacrifices +demanded by etiquette. But, observing the gracious outpouring of fortune +upon the rustic with the rare accent, a youth in a green tie disengaged +his arm--for the first time in two hours--from that of a girl upon whose +finger there shone a ring, sumptuous and golden, and, conducting her to a +corner of the yard, bade her remain there until he returned. He had to +speak to Hartly Bowlder, he explained. + +Then he plunged, red-faced and excited, into the circle about the shell +manipulators, and offered, to lay a wager. + +"Hol' on there, Hen Fentriss," thickly objected a flushed young man beside +him, "iss my turn." + +"I'm first. Hartley," returned the other. "You can hold yer bosses a +minute, I reckon." + +"Plenty fer each and all, chents," interrupted one of the shell-men. +"Place yer spondulicks on de little ball. Wich is de next lucky one to win +our money? Chent bets four sixty-five he seen de little ball go under de +middle shell. Up she comes! Dis time _we_ wins; Plattville can't win +_every_ time. Who's de next chent?" + +Fentriss edged slowly out of the circle, abashed, and with rapidly +whitening cheeks. He paused for a moment, outside, slowly realizing that +all his money had gone in one wild, blind whirl--the money he had earned +so hard and saved so hard, to make a holiday for his sweetheart and +himself. He stole one glance around the building to where a patient figure +waited for him. Then he fled down a side alley and soon was out upon the +country road, tramping soddenly homeward through the dust, his chin sunk +in his breast and his hands clenched tight at his sides. Now and then he +stopped and bitterly hurled a stone at a piping bird on a fence, or gay +Bob White in the fields. At noon the patient figure was still waiting in +the corner of the court-house yard, meekly twisting the golden ring upon +her finger. + +But the flushed young man who had spoken thickly to her deserter drew an +envied roll of bankbills from his pocket and began to bet with tipsy +caution, while the circle about the gamblers watched with fervid interest, +especially Mr. Bardlock, Town Marshal. + +From far up Main Street came the cry "She's a-comin'! She's a-comin'!" +and, this announcement of the parade proving only one of a dozen false +alarms, a thousand discussions took place over old-fashioned silver +timepieces as to when "she" was really due. Schofields' Henry was much +appealed to as an arbiter in these discussions, from a sense of his having +a good deal to do with time in a general sort of way; and thus Schofields' +came to be reminded that it was getting on toward ten o'clock, whereas, in +the excitement of festival, he had not yet struck nine. This, rushing +forthwith to do, he did; and, in the elation of the moment, seven or eight +besides. Miss Helen Sherwood was looking down on the mass of shifting +color from a second-story window--whither many an eye was upturned in +wonder--and she had the pleasure of seeing Schofields' emerge on the steps +beneath her, when the bells had done, and heard the cheers (led by Mr. +Martin) with which the laughing crowd greeted his appearance after the +performance of his feat. + +She turned beamingly to Harkless. "What a family it is!" she laughed. +"Just one big, jolly family. I didn't know people could be like this until +I came to Plattville." + +"That is the word for it," he answered, resting his hand on the casement +beside her. "I used to think it was desolate, but that was long ago." He +leaned from the window to look down. In his dark cheek was a glow Carlow +folk had never seen there; and somehow he seemed less thin and tired; +indeed, he did not seem tired at all, by far the contrary; and he carried +himself upright (when he was not stooping to see under the hat), though +not as if he thought about it. "I believe they are the best people I +know," he went on. "Perhaps it is because they have been so kind to me; +but they are kind to each other, too; kind, good people----" + +"I know," she said, nodding--a flower on the gauzy hat set to vibrating in +a tantalizing way. "I know. There are fat women who rock and rock on +piazzas by the sea, and they speak of country people as the 'lower +classes.' How happy this big family is in not knowing it is the lower +classes!" "We haven't read Nordau down here," said John. "Old Tom Martin's +favorite work is 'The Descent of Man.' Miss Tibbs admires Tupper, and +'Beulah,' and some of us possess the works of E. P. Roe--and why not?" + +"Yes; what of it," she returned, "since you escape Nordau? I think the +conversation we hear from the other windows is as amusing and quite as +loud as most of that I hear in Rouen during the winter; and Rouen, you +know, is just like any other big place nowadays, though I suppose there +are Philadelphians, for instance, who would be slow to believe a statement +like that." + +"Oh, but they are not all of Philadelphia----" He left the sentence, +smilingly. + +"And yet somebody said, 'The further West I travel the more convinced I am +the Wise Men came from the East.'" + +"Yes," he answered. "'From' is the important word in that." + +"It was a girl from Southeast Cottonbridge, Massachusetts," said Helen, +"who heard I was from Indiana and asked me if I didn't hate to live so far +away from things." There was a pause, while she leaned out of the window +with her face aside from him. Then she remarked carelessly, "I met her at +Winter Harbor." + +"Do you go to Winter Harbor?" he asked. + +"We have gone there every summer until this one, for years. Have you +friends who go there?" + +"I had--once. There was a classmate of mine from Rouen----" + +"What was his name? Perhaps I know him." She stole a glance at him. His +face had fallen into sad lines, and he looked like the man who had come up +the aisle with the Hon. Kedge Halloway. A few moments before he had seemed +another person entirely. + +"He's forgotten me, I dare say. I haven't seen him for seven years; and +that's a long time, you know. Besides, he's 'out in the world,' where +remembering is harder. Here in Plattville we don't forget." + +"Were you ever at Winter Harbor?" + +"I was--once. I spent a very happy day there long ago, when you must have +been a little girl. Were you there in--" + +"Listen!" she cried. "The procession is coming. Look at the crowd!" The +parade had seized a psychological moment. + +There was a fanfare of trumpets in the east. Lines of people rushed for +the street, and, as one looked down on the straw hats and sunbonnets and +many kinds of finer head apparel, tossing forward, they seemed like surf +sweeping up the long beaches. + +She was coming at last. The boys whooped in the middle of the street; some +tossed their arms to heaven, others expressed their emotion by +somersaults; those most deeply moved walked on their hands. In the +distance one saw, over the heads of the multitude, tossing banners and the +moving crests of triumphal cars, where "cohorts were shining in purple and +gold." She _was_ coming. After all the false alarms and disappointments, +she was coming! + +There was another flourish of music. Immediately all the band gave sound, +and then, with blare of brass and the crash of drums, the glory of the +parade burst upon Plattville. Glory in the utmost! The resistless impetus +of the march-time music; the flare of royal banners, of pennons on the +breeze; the smiling of beautiful Court Ladies and great, silken Nobles; +the swaying of howdahs on camel and elephant, and the awesome shaking of +the earth beneath the elephant's feet, and the gleam of his small but +devastating eye (every one declared he looked the alarmed Mr. Snoddy full +in the face as he passed, and Mr. Snoddy felt not at all reassured when +Tom Martin severely hinted that it was with the threatening glance of a +rival); then the badinage of the clown, creaking along in his donkey cart; +the terrific recklessness of the spangled hero who was drawn by in a cage +with two striped tigers; the spirit of the prancing steeds that drew the +rumbling chariots, and the grace of the helmeted charioteers; the splendor +of the cars and the magnificence of the paintings with which they were +adorned; the ecstasy of all this glittering, shining, gorgeous pageantry +needed even more than walking on your hands to express. + +Last of all came the tooting calliope, followed by swarms of boys as it +executed, "Wait till the clouds roll by, Jennie" with infinite dash and +gusto. + +When it was gone, Miss Sherwood's intent gaze relaxed--she had been +looking on as eagerly as any child,--and she turned to speak to Harkless +and discovered that he was no longer in the room; instead, she found +Minnie and Mr. Willetts, whom he had summoned from another window. + +"He was called away," explained Lige. "He thought he'd be back before the +parade was over, and said you were enjoying it so much he didn't want to +speak to you." + +"Called away?" she said, inquiringly. + +Minnie laughed. "Oh, everybody sends for Mr. Harkless." + +"It was a farmer, name of Bowlder," added Mr. Willetts. "His son Hartley's +drinking again, and there ain't any one but Harkless can do anything with +him. You let him tackle a sick man to nurse, or a tipsy one to handle, and +I tell you," Mr. Willetts went on with enthusiasm, "he is at home. It +beats me,--and lots of people don't think college does a man any good! +Why, the way he cured old Fis----" + +"See!" cried Minnie, loudly, pointing out of the window. "Look down +there. Something's happened." + +There was a swirl in the crowd below. Men were running around a corner of +the court-house, and the women and children were harking after. They went +so fast, and there were so many of them, that immediately that whole +portion of the yard became a pushing, tugging, pulling, squirming jam of +people. + +"It's on the other side," said Lige. "We can see from the hall window. +Come quick, before these other folks fill it up." + +They followed him across the building, and looked down on an agitated +swarm of faces. Five men were standing on the entrance steps to the door +below, and the crowd was thickly massed beyond, leaving a little +semicircle clear about the steps. Those behind struggled to get closer, +and leaped in the air to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Harkless +stood alone on the top step, his hand resting on the shoulder of the pale +and contrite and sobered Hartley. In the clear space, Jim Bardlock was +standing with sheepishly hanging head, and between him and Harkless were +the two gamblers of the walnut shells. The journalist held in his hand the +implements of their profession. + +"Give it all up," he was saying in his steady voice. "You've taken eighty- +six dollars from this boy. Hand it over." + +The men began to edge closer to the crowd, giving little, swift, +desperate, searching looks from left to right, and right to left, moving +nervously about, like weasels in a trap. "Close up there tight," said +Harkless, sharply. "Don't let them out." + +"W'y can't we git no square treatment here?" one of the gamblers whined; +but his eyes, blazing with rage, belied the plaintive passivity of his +tone. "We been running no skin. Wy d'ye say we gotter give up our own +money? You gotter prove it was a skin. We risked our money fair." + +"Prove it! Come up here, Eph Watts. Friends," the editor turned to the +crowd, smiling, "friends, here's a man we ran out of town once, because he +knew too much about things of this sort. He's come back to us again and +he's here to stay. He'll give us an object-lesson on the shell game." + +"It's pretty simple," remarked Mr. Watts. "The best way is to pick up the +ball with your second finger and the back part of your thumb as you +pretend to lay the shell down over it: this way." He illustrated, and +showed several methods of manipulation, with professional sang-froid; and +as he made plain the easy swindle by which many had been duped that +morning, there arose an angry and threatening murmur. + +"You all see," said Harkless, raising his voice a little, "what a simple +cheat it is--and old as Pharaoh. Yet a lot of you stood around and lost +your own money, and stared like idiots, and let Hartley Bowlder lose +eighty-odd dollars on a shell racket, and not one of you lifted a hand. +How hard did you work for what these two cheap crooks took from you? Ah!" +he cried, "it is because you were greedy that they robbed you so easily. +You know it's true. It's when you want to get something for nothing that +the 'confidence men' steal the money you sweat for and make the farmer a +laughing stock. And _you_, Jim Bardlock, Town Marshal!--you, who confess +that you 'went in the game sixty cents' worth, yourself--" His eyes were +lit with wrath as he raised his accusing hand and levelled it at the +unhappy municipal. + +The Town Marshal smiled uneasily and deprecatingly about him, and, meeting +only angry glances, hearing only words of condemnation, he passed his hand +unsteadily over his fat mustache, shifted from one leg to the other and +back again, looked up, looked down, and then, an amiable and pleasure- +loving man, beholding nothing but accusation and anger in heaven and +earth, and wishing nothing more than to sink into the waters under the +earth, but having no way of reaching them, finding his troubles quite +unbearable, and unable to meet the manifold eye of man, he sought relief +after the unsagacious fashion of a larger bird than he. His burly form +underwent a series of convulsions not unlike sobs, and he shut his eyes +tightly and held them so, presenting a picture of misery unequalled in the +memory of any spectator. Harkless's outstretched hand began to shake. +"You!" he tried to continue--"you, a man elected to----" + +There came from the crowd the sound of a sad, high-keyed voice, drawling: +"That's a nice vest Jim's got on, but it ain't hardly the feathers fitten +for an ostrich, is it?" + +The editor's gravity gave way; he broke into a ringing laugh and turned +again to the shell-men. "Give up the boy's money. Hurry." + +"Step down here and git it," said the one who had spoken. + +There was a turbulent motion in the crowd, and a cry arose, "Run 'em out! +Ride 'em on a rail! Tar and feathers! Run 'em out o' town!" + +"I wouldn't dilly-dally long if I were you," said Harkless, and his advice +seemed good to the shell-men. A roll of bills, which he counted and turned +over to the elder Bowlder, was sullenly placed in his hand. The fellow who +had not yet spoken clutched the journalist's sleeve with his dirty hand. + +"We hain't done wit' youse," he said, hoarsely. "Don't belief it, not fer +a minute, see?" + +The Town Marshal opened his eyes briskly, and placing a hand on each of +the gamblers, said: "I hereby do arrest your said persons, .and declare +you my prisoners." The cry rose again, louder: "Run 'em out! String 'em +up! Hang them! Hang them!" and a forward rush was made. + +"This way, Jim. Be quick," said Harkless, quietly, bending down and +jerking one of the gamblers half-way up the steps. "Get through the hall +to the other side and then run them to the lock-up. No one will stop you +that way. Watts and I will hold this door." Bardlock hustled his prisoners +through the doorway, and the crowd pushed up the steps, while Harkless +struggled to keep the vestibule clear until Watts got the double doors +closed. "Stand back, here!" he cried; "it's all over. Don't be foolish. +The law is good enough for us. Stand back, will you!" + +He was laughing a little, shoving them back with open hand and elbow, when +a small, compact group of men suddenly dashed up the steps together, and a +heavy stick swung out over their heads. A straw hat with a gay ribbon +sailed through the air. The journalist's long arms went out swiftly from +his body in several directions, the hands not open, but clenched and hard. +The next instant he and Mr. Watts stood alone on the steps, and a man with +a bleeding, blaspheming mouth dropped his stick and tried to lose himself +in the crowd. Mr. Watts was returning something he had not used to his +hip-pocket. + +"Prophets of Israel!" exclaimed William Todd, ruefully, "it wasn't Eph +Watts's pistol. Did you see Mr. Harkless? I was up on them steps when he +begun. I don't believe he needs as much takin' care of as we think." + +"Wasn't it one of them Cross-Roads devils that knocked his hat off?" asked +Judd Bennett. "I thought I see Bob Skillett run up with a club." + +Harkless threw open the doors behind him; the hall was empty. "You may +come in now," he said. "This isn't my court-house." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +GLAD AFTERNOON: THE GIRL BY THE BLUE TENT-POLE + +They walked slowly back along the pike toward the brick house. The white- +ruffed fennel reached up its dusty yellow heads to touch her skirts as she +passed, and then drooped, satisfied, against the purple iron-weed at the +roadside. In the noonday silence no cricket chirped nor locust raised its +lorn monotone; the tree shadows mottled the road with blue, and the level +fields seemed to pant out a dazzling breath, the transparent "heat-waves" +that danced above the low corn and green wheat. + +He was stooping very much as they walked; he wanted to be told that he +could look at her for a thousand years. Her face was rarely and +exquisitely modelled, but, perhaps, just now the salient characteristic of +her beauty (for the salient characteristic seemed to be a different thing +at different times) was the coloring, a delicate glow under the white +skin, that bewitched him in its seeming a reflection of the rich +benediction of the noonday sun that blazed overhead. + +Once he had thought the way to the Briscoe homestead rather a long walk; +but now the distance sped malignantly; and strolled they never so slow, it +was less than a "young bird's flutter from a wood." With her acquiescence +he rolled a cigarette, and she began to hum lightly the air of a song, a +song of an ineffably gentle, slow movement. + +That, and a reference of the morning, and, perhaps, the smell of his +tobacco mingling with the fragrance of her roses, awoke again the keen +reminiscence of the previous night within him. Clearly outlined before him +rose the high, green slopes and cool cliff-walls of the coast of Maine, +while his old self lazily watched the sharp little waves through half- +closed lids, the pale smoke of his cigarette blowing out under the rail of +a waxen deck where he lay cushioned. And again a woman pelted his face +with handfuls of rose-petals and cried: "Up lad and at 'em! Yonder is +Winter Harbor." Again he sat in the oak-raftered Casino, breathless with +pleasure, and heard a young girl sing the "Angel's Serenade," a young girl +who looked so bravely unconscious of the big, hushed crowd that listened, +looked so pure and bright and gentle and good, that he had spoken of her +as "Sir Galahad's little sister." He recollected he had been much taken +with this child; but he had not thought of her from that time to this, he +supposed; had almost forgotten her. No! Her face suddenly stood out to his +view as though he saw her with his physical eye--a sweet and vivacious +child's face with light-brown hair and gray eyes and a short upper lip. +. . . And the voice. . . . + +He stopped short and struck his palms together. "You are Tom Meredith's +little cousin!" + +"The Great Harkless!" she answered, and stretched out her hand to him. + +"I remember you!" + +"Isn't it time?" + +"Ah, but I never forgot you," he cried. "I thought I had. I didn't know +who it was I was remembering. I thought it was fancy, and it was memory. I +never forgot your voice, singing--and I remembered your face too; though I +thought I didn't." He drew a deep breath. "_That_ was why----" + +"Tom Meredith has not forgotten you," she said, as he paused. + +"Would you mind shaking hands once more?" he asked. She gave him her hand +again. "With all my heart. Why?" + +"I'm making a record at it. Thank you." + +"They called me 'Sir Galahad's little sister' all one summer because the +Great John Harkless called me that. You danced with me in the evening." + +"Did I?" + +"Ah," she said, shaking her head, "you were too busy being in love with +Mrs. Van Skuyt to remember a waltz with only me! I was allowed to meet you +as a reward for singing my very best, and you--you bowed with the +indulgence of a grandfather, and asked me to dance." + +"Like a grandfather? How young I was then! How time changes us!" + +"I'm afraid my conversation did not make a great impression upon you," she +continued. + +"But it did. I am remembering very fast. If you will wait a moment, I will +tell you some of the things you said." + +The girl laughed merrily. Whenever she laughed he realized that it was +becoming terribly difficult not to tell her how adorable she was. "I +wouldn't risk it, if I were you," she warned him, "because I didn't speak +to you at all. I shut my lips tight and trembled all over every bit of the +time I was dancing with you. I did not sleep that night, because I was so +unhappy, wondering what the Great Harkless would think of me. I knew he +thought me unutterably stupid because I couldn't talk to him. I wanted to +send him word that I knew I had bored him. I couldn't bear for him not to +know that I knew I had. But he was not thinking of me in any way. He had +gone to sea again in a big boat, the ungrateful pirate, cruising with Mrs. +Van Skuyt." + +"How time _does_ change us!" said John. "You are wrong, though; I did +think of you; I have al----" + +"Yes," she interrupted, tossing her head in airy travesty of the stage +coquette, "you think so--I mean you say so--now. Away with you and your +blarneying!" + + + +And so they went through the warm noontide, and little he cared for the +heat that wilted the fat mullein leaves and made the barefoot boy, who +passed by, skip gingerly through the burning dust with anguished mouth and +watery eye. Little he knew of the locust that suddenly whirred his mills +of shrillness in the maple-tree, and sounded so hot, hot, hot; or those +others that railed at the country quiet from the dim shade around the +brick house; or even the rain-crow that sat on the fence and swore to them +in the face of a sunny sky that they should see rain ere the day were +done. + +Little the young man recked of what he ate at Judge Briscoe's good noon +dinner: chicken wing and young roas'n'-ear; hot rolls as light as the +fluff of a summer cloudlet; and honey and milk; and apple-butter flavored +like spices of Arabia; and fragrant, flaky cherry-pie; and cool, rich, +yellow cream. Lige Willetts was a lover, yet he said he asked no better +than to Just go on eating that cherry-pie till a sweet death overtook him; +but railroad sandwiches and restaurant chops might have been set before +Harkless for all the difference it would have made to him. + +At no other time is a man's feeling of companionship with a woman so +strong as when he sits at table with her-not at a "decorated" and +becatered and bewaitered table, but at a homely, appetizing, wholesome +home table like old Judge Briscoe's. The very essence of the thing is +domesticity, and the implication is utter confidence and liking. There are +few greater dangers for a bachelor. An insinuating imp perches on his +shoulder, and, softly tickling the bachelor's ear with the feathers of an +arrow-shaft, whispers: "Pretty nice, isn't it, eh? Rather pleasant to have +that girl sitting there, don't you think? Enjoy having her notice your +butter-plate was empty? Think it exhilarating to hand her those rolls? +Looks nice, doesn't she? Says 'Thank you' rather prettily? Makes your +lonely breakfast seem mighty dull, doesn't it? How would you like to have +her pour your coffee for you to-morrow, my boy? How would it seem to have +such pleasant company all the rest of your life? Pretty cheerful, eh?" + +When Miss Sherwood passed the editor the apple-butter, the casual, matter- +of-course way she did it entranced him in a strange, exquisite wonderment. +He did not set the dish down when she put it in his hand, but held it +straight out before him, just looking at it, until Mr. Willetts had a +dangerous choking fit, for which Minnie was very proud of Lige; no one +could have suspected that it was the veil of laughter. When Helen told +John he really must squeeze a lemon into his iced tea, he felt that his +one need in life was to catch her up in his arms and run away with her, +not anywhere in particular, but just run and run and run away. + +After dinner they went out to the veranda and the gentlemen smoked. The +judge set his chair down on the ground, tilted back in it with his feet on +the steps, and blew a wavery domed city up in the air. He called it solid +comfort. He liked to sit out from under the porch roof, he said; he wanted +to see more of the sky. The others moved their chairs down to join him in +the celestial vision. There had blown across the heaven a feathery, thin +cloud or two, but save for these, there was nothing but glorious and +tender, brilliant blue. It seemed so clear and close one marvelled the +little church spire in the distance did not pierce it; yet, at the same +time, the eye ascended miles and miles into warm, shimmering ether. Far +away two buzzards swung slowly at anchor, half-way to the sun. + + "'O bright, translucent, cerulean hue, + Let my wide wings drift on in you,'" + +said Harkless, pointing them out to Helen. + +"You seem to get a good deal of fun out of this kind of weather," observed +Lige, as he wiped his brow and shifted his chair out of the sun. + +"I expect you don't get such skies as this up in Rouen," said the judge, +looking at the girl from between half-closed eyelids. + +"It's the same Indiana sky, I think," she answered. + +"I guess maybe in the city you don't see as much of it, or think as much +about it. Yes, they're the Indiana skies," the old man went on. + + Skies as blue + As the eyes of children when they smile at you.' + +"There aren't any others anywhere that ever seemed much like them to me. +They've been company for me all my life. I don't think there are any +others half as beautiful, and I know there aren't any as sociable. They +were always so." He sighed gently, and Miss Sherwood fancied his wife must +have found the Indiana skies as lovely as he had, in the days of long ago. +"Seems to me they _are_ the softest and bluest and kindest in the world." + +"I think they are," said Helen, "and they are more beautiful than the +'Italian skies,' though I doubt if many of us Hoosiers realize it; and-- +certainly no one else does." + +The old man leaned over and patted her hand. Harkless gasped. "'Us +Hoosiers!'" chuckled the judge. "You're a great Hoosier, young lady! How +much of your life have you spent in the State? 'Us Hoosiers!'" + +"But I'm going to be a good one," she answered, gaily, "and if I'm good +enough, when I grow up maybe I'll be a great one." + +The buckboard had been brought around, and the four young people climbed +in, Harkless driving. Before they started, the judge, standing on the +horse-block in front of the gate, leaned over and patted Miss Sherwood's +hand again. Harkless gathered up the reins. + +"You'll make a great Hoosier, all right," said the old man, beaming upon +the girl. "You needn't worry about that, I guess, my dear." + +When he said "my dear," Harkless spoke to the horses. + +"Wait," said the judge, still holding the girl's hand. "You'll make a +great Hoosier, some day; don't fret. You're already a very beautiful one." +Then he bent his white head and kissed her, gallantly. John said: "Good +afternoon, judge"; the whip cracked like a pistol-shot, and the buckboard +dashed off in a cloud of dust. + +"Every once in a while, Harkless," the old fellow called after them, "you +must remember to look at the team." + +The enormous white tent was filled with a hazy yellow light, the warm, +dusty, mellow light that thrills the rejoicing heart because it is found +nowhere in the world except in the tents of a circus--the canvas-filtered +sunshine and sawdust atmosphere of show day. Through the entrance the +crowd poured steadily, coming from the absorptions of the wild-animal tent +to feast upon greater wonders; passing around the sawdust ellipse that +contained two soul-cloying rings, to find seats whence they might behold +the splendors so soon to be unfolded. Every one who was not buying the +eternal lemonade was eating something; and the faces of children shone +with gourmand rapture; indeed, very often the eyes of them were all you +saw, half-closed in palate-gloating over a huge apple, or a bulky oblong +of popcorn, partly unwrapped from its blue tissue-paper cover; or else it +might be a luscious pink crescent of watermelon, that left its ravisher +stained and dripping to the brow. + +Here, as in the morning, the hawkers raised their cries in unintermittent +shrillness, offering to the musically inclined the Happy Evenings Song- +book, alleged to contain those treasures, all the latest songs of the day, +or presented for the consideration of the humorous the Lawrence Lapearl +Joke-book, setting forth in full the art of comical entertainment and +repartee. (Schofields' Henry bought two of these--no doubt on the +principle that two were twice as instructive as one--intending to bury +himself in study and do battle with Tom Martin on his own ground.) + +Here swayed the myriad palm-leaf fans; here paraded blushing youth and +rosy maiden, more relentlessly arm-in-arm than ever; here crept the +octogenarian, Mr. Bodeffer, shaking on cane and the shoulder of posterity; +here waddled Mr. Snoddy, who had hurried through the animal tent for fear +of meeting the elephant; here marched sturdy yeomen and stout wives; here +came William Todd and his Anna Belle, the good William hushed with the +embarrassments of love, but looking out warily with the white of his eye +for Mr. Martin, and determined not to sit within a hundred yards of him; +here rolled in the orbit of habit the bacchanal, Mr. Wilkerson, who +politely answered in kind all the uncouth roarings and guttural +ejaculations of jungle and fen that came from the animal tent; in brief, +here came with lightest hearts the population of Carlow and part of Amo. + +Helen had found a true word: it was a big family. Jim Bardlock, broadly +smiling and rejuvenated, shorn of depression, paused in front of the +"reserve" seats, with Mrs. Bardlock on his arm, and called loudly to a +gentleman on a tier about the level of Jim's head: "How are ye? I reckon +we were a _little_ too smart fer 'em, this morning, huh?" Five or six +hundred people--every one within hearing--fumed to look at Jim; but the +gentleman addressed was engaged in conversation with a lady and did not +notice. + +"Hi! Hi, there! _Say_! Mr. Harkless!" bellowed Jim, informally. The people +turned to look at Harkless. His attention was arrested and his cheek grew +red. + +"_What is it_?" he asked, a little confused and a good deal annoyed. + +"I don't hear what ye say," shouted Jim, putting his hand to his ear. + +"_What is it_?" repeated the young man. "I'll kill that fellow to-night," +he added to Lige Willetts. "Some one ought to have done it long ago." + +"What?" + +"I _say_, WHAT IS IT?" + +"I only wanted to say me and you certainly did fool these here Hoosiers +this morning, huh? Hustled them two fellers through the court-house, and +nobody never thought to slip round to the other door and head us off. Ha, +ha! We were jest a _leetle_ too many fer 'em, huh?" + +From an upper tier of seats the rusty length of Mr. Martin erected itself +joint by joint, like an extension ladder, and he peered down over the +gaping faces at the Town Marshal. "Excuse me," he said sadly to those +behind him, but his dry voice penetrated everywhere, "I got up to hear Jim +say 'We' again." + +Mr. Bardlock joined in the laugh against himself, and proceeded with his +wife to some seats, forty or fifty feet distant. When he had settled +himself comfortably, he shouted over cheerfully to the unhappy editor: +"Them shell-men got it in fer you, Mr. Harkless." + +"Ain't that fool shet up _yit_?" snarled the aged Mr. Bodeffer, +indignantly. He was sitting near the young couple, and the expression of +his sympathy was distinctly audible to them and many others. "Got no more +regards than a brazing calf-disturbin' a feller with his sweetheart!" + +"The both of 'em says they're goin' to do fer you," bleated Mr. Bardlock. +"Swear they'll git their evens with ye." + +Mr. Martin rose again. "Don't git scared and leave town, Mr. Harkless," he +called out; "Jim'll protect you." + +Vastly to the young man's relief the band began to play, and the +equestrians and equestriennes capered out from the dressing-tent for the +"Grand Entrance," and the performance commenced. Through the long summer +afternoon it went on: wonders of horsemanship and horsewomanship; hair- +raising exploits on wires, tight and slack; giddy tricks on the high +trapeze; feats of leaping and tumbling in the rings; while the tireless +musicians blatted inspiringly through it all, only pausing long enough to +allow that uproarious jester, the clown, to ask the ring-master what he +would do if a young lady came up and kissed him on the street, and to +exploit his hilarities during the short intervals of rest for the +athletes. + +When it was over, John and Helen found themselves in the midst of a +densely packed crowd, and separated from Miss Briscoe and Lige. People +were pushing and shoving, and he saw her face grow pale. He realized with +a pang of sympathy how helpless he would feel if he were as small as she, +and at his utmost height could only see big, suffocating backs and huge +shoulders pressing down from above. He was keeping them from crowding +heavily upon her with all his strength, and a royal feeling of +protectiveness came over him. She was so little. And yet, without the +remotest hint of hardness, she gave him such a distinct impression of +poise and equilibrium, she seemed so able to meet anything that might +come, to understand it--even to laugh at it--so Americanly capable and +sure of the event, that in spite of her pale cheek he could not feel quite +so protective as he wished to feel. + +He managed to get her to one of the tent-poles, and placed her with her +back to it. Then he set one of his own hands against it over her head, +braced himself and stood, keeping a little space about her, ruggedly +letting the crowd surge against him as it would; no one should touch her +in rough carelessness. + +"Thank you. It was rather trying in there," she said, and looked up into +his eyes with a divine gratitude. + +"Please don't do that," he answered in a low voice. + +"Do what?" + +"Look like that." + +She not only looked like that, but more so. "Young man, young man," she +said, "I fear you're wishful of turning a girl's head." + +The throng was thick around them, garrulous and noisy, but they two were +more richly alone together, to his appreciation, than if they stood on +some far satellite of Mars. He was not to forget that moment, and he kept +the picture of her, as she leaned against the big blue tent-pole, there, +in his heart: the clear gray eyes lifted to his, the delicate face with +the color stealing back to her cheeks, and the brave little figure that +had run so straight to him out of the night shadows. There was +something about her, and in the moment, that suddenly touched him with a +saddening sweetness too keen to be borne; the forget-me-not finger of the +flying hour that could not come again was laid on his soul, and he felt +the tears start from his heart on their journey to his eyes. He knew that +he should always remember that moment. She knew it, too. She put her hand +to her cheek and turned away from him a little tremulously. Both were +silent. + +They had been together since early morning. Plattville was proud of him. +Many a friendly glance from the folk who jostled about them favored his +suit and wished both of them well, and many lips, opening to speak to +Harkless in passing, closed when their owners (more tactful than Mr. +Bardlock) looked a second time. + +Old Tom Martin, still perched alone On his high seat, saw them standing by +the tent-pole, and watched them from under his rusty hat brim. "I reckon +it's be'n three or four thousand years since I was young," he sighed to +himself; then, pushing his hat still further down over his eyes: "I don't +believe I'd ort to rightly look on at that." He sighed again as he rose, +and gently spoke the name of his dead wife: "Marjie,--it's be'n lonesome, +sometimes. I reckon you're mighty tired waitin' for me, ever since sixty- +four--yet maybe not; Ulysses S. Grant's over on your side now, and perhaps +you've got acquainted with him; you always thought a good deal more of him +than you did of me." + +"Do you see that tall old man up there?" said Helen, nodding her head +toward Martin. "I think I should like to know him. I'm sure I like him." + +"That is old Tom Martin." + +"I know." + +"I was sorry and ashamed about all that conspicuousness and shouting. It +must have been very unpleasant for you; it must have been so, for a +stranger. Please try to forgive me for letting you in for it." + +"But I liked it. It was 'all in the family,' and it was so jolly and good- +natured, and that dear old man was so bright. Do you know," she said +softly, "I don't think I'm such a stranger--I--I think I love all these +people a great deal--in spite of having known them only two days." + +At that a wild exhilaration possessed him. He wanted to shake hands with +everybody in the tent, to tell them all that he loved them with his whole +heart, but, what was vastly more important, _she_ loved them a great deal +--in spite of having known them only two days! + +He made the horses prance on the homeward drive, and once, when she told +him that she had read a good many of his political columns in the +"Herald," he ran them into a fence. After this it occurred to him that +they were nearing their destination and had come at a perversely sharp +gait; so he held the roans down to a snail's pace (if it be true that a +snail's natural gait is not a trot) for the rest of the way, while they +talked of Tom Meredith and books and music, and discovered that they +differed widely about Ibsen. + +They found Mr. Fisbee in the yard, talking to Judge Briscoe. As they drove +up, and before the horses had quite stopped, Helen leaped to the ground +and ran to the old scholar with both her hands outstretched to him. He +looked timidly at her, and took the hands she gave him; then he produced +from his pocket a yellow telegraph envelope, watching her anxiously as she +received it. However, she seemed to attach no particular importance to it, +and, instead of opening it, leaned toward him, still holding one of his +hands. + +"These awful old men!" Harkless groaned inwardly as he handed the horses +over to the judge. "I dare say _he_'ll kiss her, too." But, when the +editor and Mr. Willetts had gone, it was Helen who kissed Fisbee. + +"They're coming out to spend the evening, aren't they?" asked Briscoe, +nodding to the young men as they set off down the road. + +"Lige has to come whether he wants to or not," Minnie laughed, rather +consciously; "It's his turn to-night to look after Mr. Harkless." + +"I guess he won't mind coming," said the judge. + +"Well," returned his daughter, glancing at Helen, who stood apart, reading +the telegram to Fisbee, "I know if he follows Mr. Harkless he'll get here +pretty soon after supper--as soon as the moon comes up, anyway." + +The editor of the "Herald" was late to his supper that evening. It was +dusk when he reached the hotel, and, for the first time in history, a +gentleman sat down to meat in that house of entertainment in evening +dress. There was no one in the diningroom when he went in; the other +boarders had finished, and it was Cynthia's "evening out," but the +landlord came and attended to his guests' wants himself, and chatted with +him while he ate. + +"There's a picture of Henry Clay," remarked Landis, in obvious relevancy +to his companion's attire, "there's a picture of Henry Clay somewheres +about the house in a swallow-tail coat. Governor Ray spoke here in one in +early times, Bodeffer says, except it was higher built up 'n yourn about +the collar, and had brass buttons, I think. Ole man Wimby was here +to-night," the landlord continued, changing the subject. "He waited around +fer ye a good while. He's be'n mighty wrought up sence the trouble this +morning, an' wanted to see ye bad. I don't know 'f you seen it, but that +feller 't knocked your hat off was mighty near tore to pieces in the crowd +before he got away. 'Seems some the boys re-_cog_-nized him as one the +Cross-Roads Skillets, and sicked the dogs on him, and he had a pretty mean +time of it. Wimby says the Cross-Roads folks'll be worse 'n ever, and, +says he, 'Tell him to stick close to town,' says he. 'They'll do anything +to git him now,' says he, 'and _resk_ anything.' I told him you wouldn't +take no stock in it, but, see here, don't you put nothin' too mean fer +them folks. I tell you, Mr. Harkless, plenty of us are scared fer ye." + +The good fellow was so earnest that when the editor's meal was finished +and he would have departed, Landis detained him almost by force until the +arrival of Mr. Willetts, who, the landlord knew, was his allotted escort' +for the evening. When Lige came (wearing a new tie, a pink one he had +hastened to buy as soon as his engagements had allowed him the +opportunity), Mr. Landis hissed a savage word of reproach for his +tardiness in his ear, and whisperingly bade him not let the other out of +reach that night, to which Willetts replied with a nod implying his +trustworthiness; and the young men set off in the darkness. + +Harkless wondered if his costume were not an injustice to his companion, +but he did not regret it; he would wear his best court suit, his laces and +velvets, for deference to that lady. It was a painful thing to remember +his dusty rustiness of the night before, the awful Carlow cut of his coat, +and his formless black cravat; the same felt hat he wore again to-night, +perforce, but it was brushed--brushed almost to holes in spots, and +somehow he had added a touch of shape to it. His dress-coat was an +antique; fashions had changed, no doubt; he did not know; possibly she +would recognize its vintage--but it was a dress-coat. + +Lige walked along talking; Harkless answering "Yes" and "No" at random. +The woodland-spiced air was like champagne to him; the road under foot so +elastic and springy that he felt like a thoroughbred before a race; he +wanted to lift his foot knee-high at every step, he had so much energy to +spare. In the midst of a speech of Lige's about the look of the wheat he +suddenly gave out a sigh so deep, so heartfelt, so vibrant, so profound, +that Willetts turned with astonishment; but when his eye reached his +companion's face, Harkless was smiling. The editor extended his hand. + +"Shake hands, Lige," he cried. + +The moon peeped over the shoulder of an eastern wood, and the young men +suddenly descried their long shadows stretching in front of them. Harkless +turned to look at the silhouetted town, the tree-tops and roofs and the +Methodist church spire, silvered at the edges. + +"Do you see that town, Willetts?" he asked, laying his fingers on his +companion's sleeve. "That's the best town in the United States!" + +"I always kind of thought you didn't much like it," said the other, +puzzled. "Seemed to me you always sort of wished you hadn't settled here." + +A little further on they passed Mr. Fisbee. He was walking into the +village with his head thrown back, a strange thing for him. They gave him +a friendly greeting and passed on. + +"Well, it beats me!" observed Lige, when the old man was out of hearing. +"He's be'n there to supper again. He was there all day yesterday, and with +'em at the lecture, and at the deepo day before and he looks like another +man, and dressed up--for him--to beat thunder----What do you expect makes +him so thick out there all of a sudden?" + +"I hadn't thought about it. The judge and he have been friends a good +while, haven't they?" + +"Yes, three or four years; but not like this. It beats _me_! He's all +upset over Miss Sherwood, I think. Old enough to be her grandfather, too, +the old----" + +His companion stopped him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. + +"Listen!" + +They were at the corner of the Briscoe picket fence, and a sound lilted +through the stillness--a touch on the keys that Harkless knew. "Listen," +he whispered. + +It was the "Moonlight Sonata" that Helen was playing. "It's a pretty +piece," observed Lige after a time. John could have choked him, but he +answered: "Yes, it is seraphic." + +"Who made it up?" pursued Mr. Willetts. + +"Beethoven." + +"Foreigner, I expect. Yet in some way or another makes me think of fishing +down on the Wabash bend in Vigo, and camping out nights like this; it's a +mighty pretty country around there--especially at night." + +The sonata was finished, and then she sang--sang the "Angel's Serenade." +As the soft soprano lifted and fell in the modulations of that song there +was in its timbre, apart from the pure, amber music of it, a questing, +seeking pathos, and Willetts felt the hand on his shoulder tighten and +then relax; and, as the song ended, he saw that his companion's eyes were +shining and moist. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +NIGHT: IT IS BAD LUCK TO SING BEFORE BREAKFAST + +There was a lace of faint mists along the creek and beyond, when John and +Helen reached their bench (of course they went back there), and broken +roundelays were croaking from a bayou up the stream, where rakish frogs +held carnival in resentment of the lonesomeness. The air was still and +close. Hundreds of fire-flies coquetted with the darkness amongst the +trees across the water, glinting from unexpected spots, shading their +little lanterns for a second to glow again from other shadows. The sky was +a wonderful olive green; a lazy cloud drifted in it and lapped itself +athwart the moon. + +"The dead painters design the skies for us each day and night, I think," +Helen said, as she dropped a little scarf from her shoulders and leaned +back on the bench. "It must be the only way to keep them happy and busy +'up there.' They let them take turns, and those not on duty, probably +float around and criticise." + +"They've given a good man his turn to-night," said John; "some quiet +colorist, a poetic, friendly soul, no Turner--though I think I've seen a +Turner sunset or two in Plattville." + +"It was a sculptor's sunset this evening. Did you see it?--great massy +clouds piled heap on heap, almost with violence. I'm sure it was +Michelangelo. The judge didn't think it meant Michelangelo; he thought it +meant rain." + +"Michelangelo gets a chance rather often, doesn't he, considering the +number of art people there must be over there? I believe I've seen a good +many sunsets of his, and a few dawns, too; the dawns not for a long time-- +I used to see them more frequently toward the close of senior year, when +we sat up all night talking, knowing we'd lose one another soon, and +trying to hold on as long as we could." + +She turned to him with a little frown. "Why have you never let Tom +Meredith know you were living so near him, less than a hundred miles, when +he has always liked and admired you above all the rest of mankind? I know +that he has tried time and again to hear of you, but the other men wrote +that they knew nothing--that it was thought you had gone abroad. I had +heard of you, and so must he have seen your name in the Rouen papers-- +about the 'White-Caps,' and in politics--but he would never dream of +connecting the Plattville Mr. Harkless with _his_ Mr. Harkless, though _I_ +did, just a little, and rather vaguely. I knew, of course, when you came +into the lecture. But why haven't you written to my cousin?" + +"Rouen seems a long way from here," he answered quietly. "I've only been +there once--half a day on business. Except that, I've never been further +away than Amo or Gainesville, for a convention or to make a speech, since +I came here." + +"Wicked!" she exclaimed, "To shut yourself up like this! I said it was +fine to drop out of the world; but why have you cut off your old friends +from you? Why haven't you had a relapse, now and then, and come over to +hear Ysaye play and Melba sing, or to see Mansfield or Henry Irving, when +we have had them? And do you think you've been quite fair to Tom? What +right had you to assume that he had forgotten you?" + +"Oh, I didn't exactly mean forgotten," he said, pulling a blade of grass +to and fro between his fingers, staring at it absently. "It's only that I +have dropped out of the world, you know. I kept track of every one, saw +most of my friends, or corresponded, now and then, for a year or so after +I left college; but people don't miss you much after a while. They rather +expected me to do a lot of things, in a way, you know, and I wasn't doing +them. I was glad to get away. I always had an itch for newspaper work, and +I went on a New York paper. Maybe it was the wrong paper; at least, I +wasn't fit for it. There was something in the side of life I saw, too, not +only on the paper, that made me heart-sick; and then the rush and fight +and scramble to be first, to beat the other man. Probably I am too +squeamish. I saw classmates and college friends diving into it, bound to +come out ahead, dear old, honest, frank fellows, who had been so happy-go- +lucky and kind and gay, growing too busy to meet and be good to any man +who couldn't be good to them, asking (more delicately) the eternal +question, 'What does it get me?' You might think I bad-met with +unkindness; but it was not so; it was the other way more than I deserved. +But the cruel competition, the thousands fighting for places, the +multitude scrambling for each ginger-bread baton, the cold faces on the +streets--perhaps it's all right and good; of course it has to _be_--but I +wanted to get out of it, though I didn't want to come _here_. That was +chance. A new man bought the paper I was working for, and its policy +changed. Many of the same men still wrote for it, facing cheerfully about +and advocating a tricky theory, vehement champions of a set of personal +schemers and waxy images." + +He spoke with feeling; but now, as though a trifle ashamed of too much +seriousness, and justifiably afraid of talking like one of his own +editorials, he took a lighter tone. "I had been taken on the paper through +a friend and not through merit, and by the same undeserved, kindly +influence, after a month or so I was set to writing short political +editorials, and was at it nearly two years. When the paper changed hands +the new proprietor indicated that he would be willing to have me stay and +write the other way. I refused; and it became somewhat plain to me that I +was beginning to be a failure. + +"A cousin of mine, the only relative I had, died in Chicago, and I went to +his funeral. I happened to hear of the Carlow 'Herald' through an agent +there, the most eloquent gentleman I ever met. I was younger, and even +more thoughtless than now, and I had a little money and I handed it over +for the 'Herald.' I wanted to run a paper myself, and to build up a power! +And then, though I only lived here the first few years of my life and all +the rest of it had been spent in the East, I was born in Indiana, and, in +a way, the thought of coming back to a life-work in my native State +appealed to me. I always had a dim sort of feeling that the people out in +these parts knew more--had more sense and were less artificial, I mean-- +and were kinder, and tried less to be somebody else, than almost any other +people anywhere. And I believe it's so. It's dull, here in Carlow, of +course--that is, it used to be. The agent explained that I could make the +paper a daily at once, with an enormous circulation in the country. I was +very, very young. Then I came here and saw what I had got. Possibly it is +because I am sensitive that I never let Tom know. They expected me to +amount to something; but I don't believe his welcome would be less hearty +to a failure--he is a good heart." + +"Failure!" she cried, and clapped her hands and laughed. + +"I'm really not very tragic about it, though I must seem consumed with +self-pity," he returned, smiling. "It is only that I have dropped out of +the world while Tom is still in it." + +"Dropped out of the world!'" she echoed, impatiently. "Can't you see +you've dropped into it? That you----" + +"Last night I was honored by your praise of my graceful mode of quitting +it!" + +"And so you wish me to be consistent!" she retorted scornfully. "What +becomes of your gallantry when _we_ abide by reason?" + +"True enough; equality is a denial of privilege." + +"And privilege is a denial of equality. I don't like that at all." She +turned a serious, suddenly illuminated face upon him and spoke earnestly. +"It's my hobby, I should tell you, and I'm very tired of that nonsense +about 'women always sounding the personal note.' It _should_ be sounded as +we would sound it. And I think we could bear the loss of 'privilege'--" + +He laughed and raised a protesting hand. "But _we_ couldn't." + +"No, you couldn't; it's the ribbon of superiority in your buttonhole. I +know several women who manage to live without men to open doors for them, +and I think I could bear to let a man pass before me now and then, or wear +his hat in an office where I happened to be; and I could get my own ice at +a dance, I think, possibly with even less fuss and scramble than I've +sometimes observed in the young men who have done it for me. But you know +you would never let us do things for ourselves, no matter what legal +equality might be declared, even when we get representation for our +taxation. You will never be able to deny yourselves giving us our +'privilege.' I hate being waited on. I'd rather do things for myself." + +She was so earnest in her satire, so full of scorn and so serious in her +meaning, and there was such a contrast between what she said and her +person; she looked so preeminently the pretty marquise, all silks and +softness, the little exquisite, so essentially to be waited on and helped, +to have cloaks thrown over the dampness for her to tread upon, to be run +about for--he could see half a dozen youths rushing about for her ices, +for her carriage, for her chaperone, for her wrap, at dances--that to save +his life he could not repress a chuckle. He managed to make it inaudible, +however; and it was as well that he did. + +"I understand your love of newspaper work," she went on, less vehemently, +but not less earnestly. "I have always wanted to do it myself, wanted to +immensely. I can't think of any more fascinating way of earning one's +living. And I know I could do it. Why don't you make the 'Herald' a +daily?" + +To hear her speak of "earning one's living" was too much for him. She gave +the impression of riches, not only for the fine texture and fashioning of +her garments, but one felt that luxuries had wrapped her from her birth. +He had not had much time to wonder what she did in Plattville; it had +occurred to him that it was a little odd that she could plan to spend any +extent of time there, even if she had liked Minnie Briscoe at school. He +felt that she must have been sheltered and petted and waited on all her +life; one could not help yearning to wait on her. + +He answered inarticulately, "Oh, some day," in reply to her question, and +then burst into outright laughter. + +"I might have known you wouldn't take me seriously," she said with no +indignation, only a sad wistfulness. "I am well used to it. I think it is +because I am not tall; people take big girls with more gravity. Big people +are nearly always listened to." + +"Listened to?" he said, and felt that he must throw himself on his knees +before her. "You oughtn't to mind being Titania. She was listened to, +you----" + +She sprang to her feet and her eyes flashed. "Do you think personal +comment is ever in good taste?" she cried fiercely, and in his surprise he +almost fell off the bench. "If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is to +be told that I am '_small_' I am not! Every one who isn't a giantess isn't +'_small_'. I _hate_ personalities! I am a great deal over five feet, a +great deal more than that. I----" + +"Please, _please_," he said, "I didn't----" + +"Don't say you are sorry," she interrupted, and in spite of his contrition +he found her angry voice delicious, it was still so sweet, hot with +indignation, but ringing, not harsh. "Don't say you didn't mean it; +because you did! You can't unsay it, you cannot alter it! Ah!" She drew in +her breath with a sharp sigh, and covering her face with her hands, sank +back upon the bench. "I will not cry," she said, not so firmly as she +thought she did. + +"My blessed child!" he cried, in great distress and perturbation, "What +have I done? I--I----" + +"Call me 'small' all you like!" she answered. "I don't care. It isn't +that. You mustn't think me such an imbecile." She dropped her hands from +her face and shook the tears from her eyes with a mournful laugh. He saw +that her hands were clenched tightly and her lip trembled. "I will not +cry!" she said in a low voice. + +"Somebody ought to murder me; I ought to have thought--personalities _are_ +hideous----" + +"Don't! It wasn't that." + +"I ought to be shot----" + +"Ah, please don't say that," she said, shuddering; "please don't, not even +as a joke--after last night." + +"But I ought to be for hurting you, indeed----" + +She laughed sadly, again. "It wasn't that. I don't care what you call me. +I am small. You'll try to forgive me for being such a baby? I didn't mean +anything I said. I haven't acted so badly since I was a child." + +"It's my fault, all of it. I've tired you out. And I let you get into +that crush at the circus--" he was going on, remorsefully. + +"_That_!" she interrupted. "I don't think I would have missed the circus." +He had a thrilling hope that she meant the tent-pole; she looked as if she +meant that, but he dared not let himself believe it. + +"No," he continued; "I have been so madly happy in being with you that +I've fairly worn out your patience. I've haunted you all day, and +I have----" + +"All that has nothing to do with it," she said, slowly. "Just after you +left, this afternoon, I found that I could not stay here. My people are +going abroad, to Dresden, at once, and I must go with them. That's what +almost made me cry. I leave to-morrow morning." + +He felt something strike at his heart. In the sudden sense of dearth he +had no astonishment that she should betray such agitation over her +departure from a place she had known so little, and friends who certainly +were not part of her life. He rose to his feet, and, resting his arm +against a sycamore, stood staring away from her at nothing. + +She did not move. There was a long silence. + +He had wakened suddenly; the skies had been sapphire, the sward emerald, +Plattville a Camelot of romance; to be there, enchantment--and now, like a +meteor burned out in a breath, the necromancy fell away and he gazed into +desolate years. The thought of the Square, his dusty office, the bleak +length of Main Street, as they should appear to-morrow, gave him a faint +physical sickness. To-day it had all been touched to beauty; he had felt +fit to live and work there a thousand years--a fool's dream, and the +waking was to emptiness. He should die now of hunger and thirst in that +Sahara; he hoped the Fates would let it be soon--but he knew they would +not; knew that this was hysteria, that in his endurance he should plod on, +plod, plod dustily on, through dingy, lonely years. + +There was a rumble of thunder far out on the western prairie. A cold +breath stole through the hot stillness, and an arm of vapor reached out +between the moon and the quiet earth. Darkness fell. The man and the girl +kept silence between them. They might have been two sad guardians of the +black little stream that splashed unseen at their feet. Now and then an +echo of far away lightning faintly illumined them with a green light. +Thunder rolled nearer, ominously; the gods were driving their chariots +over the bridge. The chill breath passed, leaving the air again to its hot +inertia. + +"I did not want to go," she said, at last, with tears just below the +surface of her voice. "I wanted to stay here, but he--they wouldn't--I +can't." + +"Wanted to stay here?" he said, huskily, not turning. "Here?" + +"Yes." + +"In Rouen, you mean?" + +"In Plattville." + +"In Plattville?" He turned now, astounded. + +"Yes; wouldn't you have taken me on the 'Herald'?" She rose and came +toward him. "I could have supported myself here if you would--and I've +studied how newspapers are made; I know I could have earned a wage. We +could have made it a daily." He searched in vain for a trace of raillery +in her voice; there was none; she seemed to intend her words to be taken +literally. + +"I don't understand," he said. "I don't know what you mean." + +"I mean that I want to stay here; that I ought to stay here; that my +conscience tells me I should--but I can't and it makes me very unhappy. +That was why I acted so badly." + +"Your conscience!" he cried. + +"Oh, I know what a jumble and puzzle it must seem to you." + +"I only know one thing; that you are going away to-morrow morning, and +that I shall never see you again." + +The darkness had grown heavy. They could not see each other; but a wan +glimmer gave him a fleeting, misty view of her; she stood half-turned away +from him, her hand to her cheek in the uncertain fashion of his great +moment of the afternoon; her eyes-he saw in the flying picture that he +caught--were adorably troubled and her hand trembled. She had been +irresistible in her gaiety; but now that a mysterious distress assailed +her, the reason for which he had no guess, she was so divinely pathetic; +and seemed such a rich and lovely and sad and happy thing to have come +into his life only to go out of it; and he was so full of the prophetic +sense of loss of her--it seemed so much like losing everything--that he +found too much to say to be able to say anything. + +He tried to speak, and choked a little. A big drop of rain fell on his +bare head. Neither of them noticed the weather or cared for it. They stood +with the renewed blackness hanging like a thick drapery between them. + +"Can--can you--tell me why you think you ought not to go?" he whispered, +finally, with a great effort. + +"No; not now. But I know you would think I am right in wanting to stay," +she cried, impulsively. "I know you would, if you knew about it--but I +can't, I can't. I must go in the morning." + +"I should always think you right," he answered in an unsteady tone, +"Always!" He went over to the bench, fumbled about for his hat, and picked +it up. + +"Come," he said, gently, "I am going now." + +She stood quite motionless for a full minute or longer; then, without a +word, she moved toward the house. He went to her with hands extended to +find her, and his fingers touched her sleeve. Then together and silently +they found the garden-path; and followed its dim length. In the orchard he +touched her sleeve again and led the way. + +As they came out behind the house she detained him. Stopping short, she +shook his hand from her arm. She spoke in a single breath, as if it were +all one word: + +"Will you tell me why you go? It is not late. Why do you wish to leave me, +when I shall not see you again?" + +"The Lord be good to me!" he broke out, all his long-pent passion of +dreams rushing to his lips, now that the barrier fell. "Don't you see it +is because I can't bear to let you go? I hoped to get away without saying +it. I want to be alone. I want to be with myself and try to realize. I +didn't want to make a babbling idiot of myself--but I am! It is because I +don't want another second of your sweetness to leave an added pain when +you've gone. It is because I don't want to hear your voice again, to have +it haunt me in the loneliness you will leave--but it's useless, useless! I +shall hear it always, just as I shall always see your face, just as I have +heard your voice and seen your face these seven years--ever since I first +saw you, a child at Winter Harbor. I forgot for a while; I thought it was +a girl I had made up out of my own heart, but it was you--you always! The +impression I thought nothing of at the time, just the merest touch on my +heart, light as it was, grew and grew deeper until it was there forever. +You've known me twenty-four hours, and I understand what you think of me +for speaking to you like this. If I had known you for years and had waited +and had the right to speak and keep your respect, what have I to offer +you? I, couldn't even take care of you if you went mad as I and listened. +I've no excuse for this raving. Yes, I have!" + +He saw her in another second of lightning, a sudden, bright one. Her back +was turned to him; she had taken a few startled steps from him. + +"Ah," he cried, "you are glad enough, now, to see me go! I knew it. I +wanted to spare myself that. I tried not to be a hysterical fool in your +eyes." He turned aside and his head fell on his breast. "God help me," he +said, "what will this place be to me now?" + +The breeze had risen; it gathered force; it was a chill wind, and there +rose a wailing on the prairie. Drops of rain began to fall. + +"You will not think a question implied in this," he said more composedly, +and with an unhappy laugh at himself. "I believe you will not think me +capable of asking you if you care----" + +"No," she answered; "I--I do not love you." + +"Ah! Was it a question, after all? I--you read me better than I do, +perhaps--but if I asked, I knew the answer." + +She made as if to speak again, but words refused her. + +After a moment, "Good-by," he said, very steadily. "I thank you for the +charity that has given me this little time with you--it will always be-- +precious to me--I shall always be your servant." His steadiness did not +carry him to the end of his sentence. "Good-by." + +She started toward him and stopped, without his seeing her. She answered +nothing; but stretched out her hand to him and then let it fall quickly. + +"Good-by," he said again. "I shall go out the orchard gate. Please tell +them good-night for me. Won't you speak to me? Good-by." + +He stood waiting while the rising wind blew their garments about them. She +leaned against the wall of the house. "Won't you say good-by and tell me +you can forget my----" + +She did not speak. + +"No!" he cried, wildly. "Since you don't forget it! I have spoiled what +might have been a pleasant memory for you, and I know it. You were already +troubled, and I have added, and you won't forget it, nor shall I--nor +shall I! Don't say good-by--I can say it for both of us. God bless you-- +and good-by, good-by, good-by!" + +He crushed his hat down over his eyes and ran toward the orchard gate. For +a moment lightning flashed repeatedly; she saw him go out the gate and +disappear into sudden darkness. He ran through the field and came out on +the road. Heaven and earth were revealed again for a dazzling white +second. From horizon to horizon rolled clouds contorted like an +illimitable field of inverted haystacks, and beneath them enormous volumes +of pale vapor were tumbling in the west, advancing eastward with sinister +swiftness. She ran to a little knoll at the corner of the house and saw +him set his face to the storm. She cried aloud to him with all her +strength and would have followed, but the wind took the words out of her +mouth and drove her back cowering to the shelter of the house. + +Out on the road the dust came lashing and stinging him like a thousand +nettles; it smothered him, and beat upon him so that he covered his face +with his sleeve and fought into the storm shoulder foremost, dimly glad of +its rage, scarcely conscious of it, keeping westward on his way to +nowhere. West or east, south or north--it was all one to him. The few +heavy drops that fell boiling into the dust ceased to come; the rain +withheld while the wind-kings rode on earth. On he went in spite of them. +On and on, running blindly when he could run at all. At least, the wind- +kings were company. He had been so long alone. He could remember no home +that had ever been his since he was a little child, neither father nor +mother, no one who belonged to him or to whom he belonged, except one +cousin, an old man who was dead. For a day his dreams had found in a +girl's eyes the precious thing that is called home--oh, the wild fancy! He +laughed aloud. + +There was a startling answer; a lance of living fire hurled from the sky, +riving the fields before his eyes, while crash on crash of artillery +numbed his ears. With that his common-sense awoke and he looked about him. +He was almost two miles from town; the nearest house was the Briscoes' far +down the road. He knew the rain would come now. There was a big oak near +him at the roadside. He stepped under its sheltering branches and leaned +against the great trunk, wiping the perspiration and dust from his face. A +moment of stunned quiet had succeeded the peal of thunder. It was followed +by several moments of incessant lightning that played along the road and +danced in the fields. From that intolerable brightness he turned his head +and saw, standing against the fence, five feet away, a man, leaning over +the top rail and looking at him. + + + +The same flash staggered brilliantly before Helen's eyes as she crouched +against the back steps of the brick house. It scarred a picture like a +marine of big waves: the tossing tops of the orchard trees; for in the +same second the full fury of the storm was loosed, wind and rain and hail. +It drove her against the kitchen door with cruel force; the latch lifted, +the door blew open violently, and she struggled to close it in vain. The +house seemed to rock. A lamp flickered toward her from the inner doorway +and was blown out. + +"Helen! Helen!" came Minnie's voice, anxiously. "Is that you? We were +coming to look for you. Did you get wet?" + +Mr. Willetts threw his weight against the door and managed to close it. +Then Minnie found her friend's hand and led her through the dark hall to +the parlor where the judge sat, placidly reading by a student-lamp. + +Lige chuckled as they left the kitchen. "I guess you didn't try too hard +to shut that door, Harkless," he said, and then, when they came into the +lighted room, "Why, where _is_ Harkless?" he asked. "Didn't he come with +us from the kitchen?" + +"No," answered Helen, faintly; "he's gone." She sank upon the sofa and +drew her hand across her eyes as if to shade them from too sudden light. + +"Gone!" The judge dropped his book and stared across the table at the +girl. "Gone! When?" + +"Ten minutes--five--half an hour--I don't know. Before the storm +commenced." + +"Oh!" The old gentleman appeared to be reassured. "Probably he had work to +do and wanted to get in before the rain." + +But Lige Willetts was turning pale. He swallowed several times with +difficulty. "Which way did he go? He didn't come around the house; we were +out there till the storm broke." + +"He went by the orchard gate. When he got to the road he turned that way." +She pointed to the west. + +"He must have been crazy!" exclaimed the judge. "What possessed the +fellow?" + +"I couldn't stop him. I didn't know how." She looked at her three +companions, slowly and with growing terror, from one face to another. +Minnie's eyes were wide and she had unconsciously grasped Lige's arm; the +young man was looking straight before him; the judge got up and walked +nervously back and forth. Helen rose to her feet swiftly and went toward +the old man, her hands pressed to her bosom. + +"Ah!" she cried out, sharply, "I had forgotten _that_! You don't think +they--you don't think----" + +"I know what I think," Lige broke in; "I think I'd ought to be hanged for +letting him out of my sight. Maybe it's all right; maybe he turned and +started right back for town--and got there. But I had no business to leave +him, and if I can I'll catch up with him yet." He went to the front door, +and, opening it, let in a tornado of wind and flood of water that beat him +back; sheets of rain blew in horizontally, in spite of the porch beyond. + +Briscoe followed him. "Don't be a fool, Lige," he said. "You hardly expect +to go out in that." Lige shook his head; it needed them both to get the +door closed. The young man leaned against it and passed his sleeve across +his wet brow. "I hadn't ought to have left him." + +"Don't scare the girls," whispered the other; then in a louder tone: "All +I'm afraid of is that he'll get blown to pieces or catch his death of +cold. That's all there is to worry about. Those scalawags wouldn't try it +again so soon after last night. I'm not bothering about that; not at all. +That needn't worry anybody." + +"But this morning----" + +"Pshaw! He's likely home and dry by this time--all foolishness; don't be +an old woman." The two men reentered the room and found Helen clinging to +Minnie's hand on the sofa. She looked up at them quickly. + +"Do you think--do you--what do you--" Her voice shook so that she could +not go on. + +The judge pinched her cheek and patted it. "I think he's home and dry, but +I think he got wet first; that's what I think. Never you fear, he's a good +hand at taking care of himself. Sit down, Lige. You can't go for a while." +Nor could he. It was long before he could venture out; the storm raged and +roared without abatement; it was Carlow's worst since 'Fifty-one, the old +gentleman said. They heard the great limbs crack and break outside, while +the thunder boomed and the wind ripped at the eaves till it seemed the +roof must go. Meanwhile the judge, after some apology, lit his pipe and +told long stories of the storms of early days and of odd freaks of the +wind. He talked on calmly, the picture of repose, and blew rings above his +head, but Helen saw that one of his big slippers beat an unceasing little +tattoo on the carpet. She sat with fixed eyes, in silence, holding +Minnie's hand tightly; and her face was colorless, and grew whiter as the +slow hours dragged by. + +Every moment Mr. Willetts became more restless, though assuring the ladies +he had no anxiety regarding Mr. Harkless; it was only his own dereliction +of duty that he regretted; the boys would have the laugh on him, he said. +But he visibly chafed more and more under the judge's stories; and +constantly rose to peer out of the window into the wrack and turmoil, or +uneasily shifted in his chair. Once or twice he struck his hands together +with muttered ejaculations. At last there was a lull in the fury without, +and, as soon as it was perceptible, he declared his intention of making +his way into town; he had ought to have went before, he declared, +apprehensively; and then, with immediate amendment, of course he would +find the editor at work in the "Herald" office; there wasn't the slightest +doubt of that; he agreed with the judge, but he better see about it. He +would return early in the morning to bid Miss Sherwood good-by; hoped +she'd come back, some day; hoped it wasn't her last visit to Plattville. +They gave him an umbrella and he plunged out into the night, and as they +stood watching him for a moment from the door, the old man calling after +him cheery good-nights and laughing messages to Harkless, they could hear +his feet slosh into the puddles and see him fight with his umbrella when +he got out into the road. + +Helen's room was over the porch, the windows facing north, looking out +upon the pike and across the fields beyond. "Please don't light the lamp, +Minnie," she said, when they had gone upstairs. "I don't need a light." +Miss Briscoe was flitting about the room, hunting for matches. In the +darkness she came to her friend, and laid a kind, large hand on Helen's +eyes, and the hand became wet. She drew Helen's head down on her shoulder +and sat beside her on the bed. + +"Sweetheart, you mustn't fret," she soothed, in motherly fashion. "Don't +you worry, dear. He's all right. It isn't your fault, dear. They wouldn't +come on a night like this." + +But Helen drew away and went to the window, flattening her arm against the +pane, her forehead pressed against her arm. She had let him go; she had +let him go alone. She had forgotten the danger that always beset him. She +had been so crazy, she had seen nothing, thought of nothing. She had let +him go into that, and into the storm, alone. Who knew better than she how +cruel they were? She had seen the fire leap from the white blossom and +heard the ball whistle, the ball they had meant for his heart, that good, +great heart. She had run to him the night before--why had she let him go +into the unknown and the storm to-night? But how could she have stopped +him? How could she have kept him, after what he had said? She peered into +the night through distorting tears. + +The wind had gone down a little, but only a little, and the electrical +flashes danced all around the horizon in magnificent display, sometimes +far away, sometimes dazingly near, the darkness trebly deep between the +intervals when the long sweep of flat lands lay in dazzling clearness, +clean-cut in the washed air to the finest detail of stricken field and +heaving woodland. A staggering flame clove earth and sky; sheets of light +came following it, and a frightful uproar shook the house and rattled the +casements, but over the crash of thunder Minnie heard her friend's loud +scream and saw her spring back from the window with both hands, palm +outward, pressed to her face. She leaped to her and threw her arms about +her. + +"What is it?" + +"Look!" Helen dragged her to the window. "At the next flash--the fence +beyond the meadow----" + +"What was it? What was it like?" The lightning flashed incessantly. Helen +tried to point; her hand only jerked from side to side. + +"_Look_!" she cried. + +"I see nothing but the lightning," Minnie answered, breathlessly. + +"Oh, the _fence_! The fence--and in the field!" + +"_Helen_! What was it _like_?" + +"Ah-ah!" she panted, "a long line of white--horrible white----" + +"What _like_?" Minnie turned from the window and caught the other's wrist +in a fluttering clasp. + +"Minnie, Minnie! Like long white gowns and cowls crossing the fence." +Helen released her wrist, and put both hands on Minnie's cheeks, forcing +her around to face the pane. "You must look--you must look," she cried. + +"They wouldn't do it, they wouldn't--it _isn't_!" Minnie cried. "They +couldn't come in the storm. They wouldn't do it in the pouring rain!" + +"Yes! Such things would mind the rain!" She burst into hysterical +laughter, and Minnie, almost as unnerved, caught her about the waist. +"They would mind the rain. They would fear a storm! Ha, ha, ha! Yes--yes! +And I let him go--I let him go!" + +Pressing close together, shuddering, clasping each other's waists, the two +girls peered out at the flickering landscape. + +"_Look_!" + +Up from the distant fence that bordered the northern side of Jones's +field, a pale, pelted, flapping thing reared itself, poised, and seemed, +just as the blackness came again, to drop to the ground. + +"Did you _see_?" + +But Minnie had thrown herself into a chair with a laugh of wild relief. +"My darling girl!" she cried. "Not a line of white things--just one--Mr. +Jones's old scarecrow! And we saw it blown down!" + +"No, no, no! I saw the others; they were in the field beyond. I saw them! +When I looked the first time they were nearly all on the fence. This time +we saw the last man crossing. Ah! I let him go alone!" + +Minnie sprang up and enfolded her. "No; you dear, imagining child, you're +upset and nervous--that's all the matter in the world. Don't worry; don't, +child, it's all right. Mr. Harkless is home and safe in bed long ago. I +know that old scarecrow on the fence like a book; you're so unstrung you +fancied the rest. He's all right; don't you bother, dear." + +The big, motherly girl took her companion in her arms and rocked her back +and forth soothingly, and petted and reassured her, and then cried a +little with her, as a good-hearted girl always will with a friend. Then +she left her for the night with many a cheering word and tender caress. +"Get to sleep, dear," she called through the door when she had closed it +behind her. "You must, if you have to go in the morning--it just breaks my +heart. I don't know how we'll bear it without you. Father will miss you +almost as much as I will. Good-night. Don't bother about that old white +scarecrow. That's all it was. Good-night, dear, good-night." + +"Good-night, dear," answered a plaintive little voice. Helen's hot cheek +pressed the pillow and tossed from side to side. By and by she turned the +pillow over; it had grown wet. The wind blew about the eaves and blew +itself out; she hardly heard it. Sleep would not come. She got up and +laved her burning eyes. Then she sat by the window. The storm's strength +was spent at last; the rain grew lighter and lighter, until there was but +the sound of running water and the drip, drip on the tin roof of the +porch. Only the thunder rumbling in the distance marked the storm's +course; the chariots of the gods rolling further and further away, till +they finally ceased to be heard altogether. The clouds parted +majestically, and then, between great curtains of mist, the day-star was +seen shining in the east. + +The night was hushed, and the peace that falls before dawn was upon the +wet, flat lands. Somewhere in the sodden grass a swamped cricket chirped. +From an outlying flange of the village a dog's howl rose mournfully; was +answered by another, far away, and by another and another. The sonorous +chorus rose above the village, died away, and quiet fell again. + +Helen sat by the window, no comfort touching her heart. Tears coursed her +cheeks no longer, but her eyes were wide and staring, and her lips parted, +for the hush was broken by the far clamor of the court-house bell ringing +in the night. It rang, and rang, and rang, and rang. She could not +breathe. She threw open the window. The bell stopped. All was quiet once +more. The east was growing gray. + +Suddenly out of the stillness there came the sound of a horse galloping +over a wet road. He was coming like mad. Some one for a doctor? No; the +horse-hoofs grew louder, coming out from the town, coming this way, coming +faster and faster, coming _here_. There was a splashing and trampling in +front of the house and a sharp "Whoa!" In the dim gray of first dawn she +made out a man on a foam-flecked horse. He drew up at the gate. + +A window to the right of hers went screeching up. She heard the judge +clear his throat before he spoke. + +"What is it? That's you, isn't it, Wiley? What is it?" He took a good deal +of time and coughed between the sentences. His voice was more than +ordinarily quiet, and it sounded husky. "What is it, Wiley?" + +"Judge, what time did Mr. Harkless leave here last night and which way did +he go?" + +There was a silence. The judge turned away from the window. Minnie was +standing just outside his door. "It must have been about half-past nine, +wasn't it, father?" she called in a shaking voice. "And, you know, Helen +thought he went west." + +"Wiley!" The old man leaned from the sill again. + +"Yes!" answered the man on horseback. + +"Wiley, he left about half-past nine--just before the storm. They think he +went west." + +"Much obliged. Willetts is so upset he isn't sure of anything." + + +"Wiley!" The old man's voice shook; Minnie began to cry aloud. The +horseman wheeled about and turned his animal's head toward town. "Wiley!" + +"Yes." + +"Wiley, they haven't--you don't think they've got him?" + +"By God, judge," said the man on horseback, "I'm afraid they have!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +THE COURT-HOUSE BELL + +The court-house bell ringing in the night! No hesitating stroke of +Schofields' Henry, no uncertain touch, was on the rope. A loud, wild, +hurried clamor pealing out to wake the country-side, a rapid _clang! +clang! clang!_ that struck clear in to the spine. + +The court-house bell had tolled for the death of Morton, of Garfield, of +Hendricks; had rung joy-peals of peace after the war and after political +campaigns; but it had rung as it was ringing now only three times; once +when Hibbard's mill burned, once when Webb Landis killed Sep Bardlock and +intrenched himself in the lumber-yard and would not be taken till he was +shot through and through, and once when the Rouen accommodation was +wrecked within twenty yards of the station. + +Why was the bell ringing now? Men and women, startled into wide +wakefulness, groped to windows--no red mist hung over town or country. +What was it? The bell rang on. Its loud alarm beat increasingly into men's +hearts and quickened their throbbing to the rapid measure of its own. +Vague forms loomed in the gloaming. A horse, wildly ridden, splashed +through the town. There were shouts; voices called hoarsely. Lamps began +to gleam in the windows. Half-clad people emerged from their houses, men +slapping their braces on their shoulders as they ran out of doors. +Questions were shouted into the dimness. + +Then the news went over the town. + +It was cried from yard to yard, from group to group, from gate to gate, +and reached the furthermost confines. Runners shouted it as they sped by; +boys panted it, breathless; women with loosened hair stumbled into +darkling chambers and faltered it out to new-wakened sleepers; pale girls +clutching wraps at their throats whispered it across fences; the sick, +tossing on their hard beds, heard it. The bell clamored it far and near; +it spread over the country-side; it flew over the wires to distant cities. +The White-Caps had got Mr. Harkless! + +Lige Willetts had lost track of him out near Briscoes', it was said, and +had come in at midnight seeking him. He had found Parker, the "Herald" +foreman, and Ross Schofield, the typesetter, and Bud Tipworthy, the devil, +at work in the printing-room, but no sign of Harkless, there or in the +cottage. Together these had sought for him and had roused others, who had +inquired at every house where he might have gone for shelter, and they had +heard nothing. They had watched for his coming during the slackening of +the storm and he had not come, and there was nowhere he could have gone. +He was missing; only one thing could have happened. + +They had roused up Warren Smith, the prosecutor, the missing editor's most +intimate friend in Carlow, and Homer, the sheriff, and Jared Wiley, the +deputy. William Todd had rung the alarm. The first thing to do was to find +him. After that there would be trouble--if not before. It looked as if +there would be trouble before. The men tramping up to the muddy Square in +their shirt-sleeves were bulgy about the right hips; and when Homer Tibbs +joined Lum Landis at the hotel corner, and Landis saw that Homer was +carrying a shot-gun, Landis went back for his. A hastily sworn posse +galloped out Main Street. Women and children ran into neighbors' yards and +began to cry. Day was coming; and, as the light grew, men swore and +savagely kicked at the palings of fences that they passed. + +In the foreglow of dawn they gathered in the Square and listened to Warren +Smith, who made a speech from the court-house fence and warned them to go +slow. They answered him with angry shouts and hootings, but he made his +big voice heard, and bade them do nothing rash; no facts were known, he +said; it was far from certain that harm had been done, and no one knew +that the Six-Cross-Roads people had done it--even if something had +happened to Mr. Harkless. He declared that he spoke in Harkless's name. +Nothing could distress _him_ so much as for them to defy the law, to take +it out of the proper hands. Justice would be done. + +"Yes it will!" shouted a man below him, brandishing the butt of a raw-hide +whip above his head. "And while you jaw on about it here, he may be tied +up like a dog in the woods, shot full of holes by the men you never lifted +a finger to hender, because you want their votes when you run for circuit +judge. What are we doin' _here_? What's the good of listening to you?" + +There was a yell at this, and those who heard the speaker would probably +have started for the Cross-Roads without further parley, had not a rumor +sprung up, which passed so rapidly from man to man that within five +minutes it was being turbulently discussed in every portion of the crowd. +The news came that the two shell-gamblers had wrenched a bar out of a +window under cover of the storm, had broken jail, and were at large. Their +threats of the day before were remembered now, with convincing vividness. +They had sworn repeatedly to Bardlock and to the sheriff, and in the +hearing of others, that they would "do" for the man who took their money +from them and had them arrested. The prosecuting attorney, quickly +perceiving the value of this complication in holding back the mob that was +already forming, called Homer from the crowd and made him get up on the +fence and confess that his prisoners had escaped--at what time he did not +know, probably toward the beginning of the storm, when it was noisiest. + +"You see," cried the attorney, "there is nothing as yet of which we can +accuse the Cross-Roads. If our friend has been hurt, it is much more +likely that these crooks did it. They escaped in time to do it, and we all +know they were laying for him. You want to be mighty careful, fellow- +citizens. Homer is already in telegraphic communication with every town +around here, and we'll have those men before night. All you've got to do +is to control yourselves a little and go home quietly." He could see that +his words (except those in reference to returning home--no one was going +home) made an impression. There rose a babble of shouting and argument and +swearing that grew continually louder, and the faces the lawyer looked +down on were creased with perplexity, and shadowed with an anger that +settled darker and darker. + +Mr. Ephraim Watts, in spite of all confusion, clad as carefully as upon +the preceding day, deliberately climbed the fence and stood by the lawyer +and made a single steady gesture with his hand. He was listened to at +once, as his respect for the law was less notorious than his irreverence +for it, and he had been known in Carlow as a customarily reckless man. +They wanted illegal and desperate advice, and quieted down to hear it. He +spoke in his professionally calm voice. + +"Gentlemen, it seems to me that Mr. Smith and Mr. Ribshaw" (nodding to the +man with the rawhide whip) "are both right. What good are we doing here? +What we want to know is what's happened to Mr. Harkless. It looks just now +like the shell-men might have done it. Let's find out what they done. +Scatter and hunt for him. 'Soon as anything is known for certain, +Hibbard's mill whistle will blow three times. Keep on looking till it +does. _Then_" he finished, with a barely perceptible scornful smile at the +attorney, "_then_ we can decide on what had ought to be done." + +Six-Cross-Roads lay dark and steaming in the sun that morning. The forge +was silent, the saloon locked up, the roadway deserted, even by the pigs. +The broken old buggy stood rotting in the mud without a single lean, +little old man or woman--such were the children of the Cross-Roads--to +play about it. The fields were empty, and the rag-stuffed windows blank, +under the baleful glance of the horsemen who galloped by at intervals, +muttering curses, not always confining themselves to muttering them. Once, +when the deputy sheriff rode through alone, a tattered black hound, more +wolf than dog, half-emerged, growling, from beneath one of the tumble-down +barns, and was jerked back into the darkness by his tail, with a snarl +fiercer than his own, while a gun-barrel shone for a second as it swung +for a stroke on the brute's head. The hound did not yelp or whine when the +blow fell. He shut his eyes twice, and slunk sullenly back to his place. + +The shanties might have received a volley or two from some of the mounted +bands, exasperated by futile searching, had not the escape of Homer's +prisoners made the guilt of the Cross-Roads appear doubtful in the minds +of many. As the morning waned, the advocates of the theory that the +gamblers had made away with Harkless grew in number. There came a telegram +from the Rouen chief of police that he had a clew to their whereabouts; he +thought they had succeeded in reaching Rouen, and it began to be generally +believed that they had escaped by the one-o'clock freight, which had +stopped to take on some empty cars at a side-track a mile northwest of the +town, across the fields from the Briscoe house. Toward noon a party went +out to examine the railroad embankment. + +Men began to come back into the village for breakfast by twos and threes, +though many kept on searching the woods, not feeling the need of food, or +caring if they did. Every grove and clump of underbrush, every thicket, +was ransacked; the waters of the creek, shallow for the most part, but +swollen overnight, were dragged at every pool. Nothing was found; there +was not a sign. + +The bar of the hotel was thronged all morning as the returning citizens +rapidly made their way thither, and those who had breakfasted and were +going out again paused for internal, as well as external, reinforcement. +The landlord, himself returned from a long hunt, set up his whiskey with a +lavish hand. + +"He was the best man we had, boys," said Landis, as he poured the little +glasses full. "We'd ort of sent him to the legislative halls of Washington +long ago. He'd of done us honor there; but we never thought of doin' +anything fer him; jest set 'round and let him build up the town and give +him empty thankyes. Drink hearty, gentlemen," he finished, gloomily, "I +don't grudge no liquor to-day--except to Lige Willetts." + +"He was a good man," said young William Todd, whose nose was red, not from +the whiskey. "I've about give up." + +Schofields' Henry drew his sleeve across his eyes. "He was the only man in +this whole city that didn't jab and nag at me when I done my best," he +exclaimed, with an increasing break in his utterance. "Many a good word +I've had from him when nobody in town done nothin' but laugh an' rile an' +badger me about my--my bell." And Schofields' Henry began to cry openly. + +"He was a great hand with the chuldern," said one man. "Always have +something to say to 'em to make 'em laugh when he went by. 'Talk more to +them 'n he would to grown folks. Yes, sir." + +"They knowed _him_ all right," added another. "I reckon all of us did, +little and big." + +"It's goin' to seem mighty empty around here," said Ross Schofield. +"What's goin' to become o' the 'Herald' and the party in this district? +Where's the man to run either of 'em now. Like as not," he concluded +desperately, "the election'll go against us in the fall." + +Dibb Zane choked over his four fingers. "We might's well bust up this +dab-dusted ole town ef he's gone." + +"I don't know what's come over that Cynthy Tipworthy," said the landlord. +"She's waited table on him last two year, and her brother Bud works at the +'Herald' office. She didn't say a word--only looked and looked and looked +--like a crazy woman; then her and Bud went off together to hunt in the +woods. They just tuck hold of each other's hands like----" + +"That ain't nothin'," Homer Tibbs broke in. "You'd ort to've saw old Miz +Hathaway, that widder woman next door to us, when she heard it. He had +helped her to git her pension; and she tuck on worse 'n' anything I ever +hear--lot worse 'n' when Hathaway died." + +"I reckon there ain't many crazier than them two Bowlders, father and +son," said the postmaster, wiping the drops from his beard as he set his +glass on the bar. "They rid into town like a couple of wild Indians, the +old man beatin' that gray mare o' theirn till she was one big welt, and he +ain't natcherly no cruel man, either. I reckon Lige Willetts better keep +out of Hartley's way." + +"I keep out of no man's way," cried a voice behind him. Turning, they saw +Lige standing on the threshold of the door that led to the street. In his +hand he held the bridle of the horse he had ridden across the sidewalk, +and that now stood panting, with lowered head, half through the doorway, +beside his master. Lige was hatless, splashed with mud from head to foot; +his jaw was set, his teeth ground together; his eyes burned under red +lids, and his hair lay tossed and damp on his brow. "I keep out of no +man's way," he repeated, hoarsely. + +"I heard you, Mr. Tibbs, but I've got too much to do, while you loaf and +gas and drink over Lum Landis's bar--I've got other business than keeping +out of Hartley Bowlder's way. I'm looking for John Harkless. He was the +best man we had in this ornery hole, and he was too good for us, and so +we've maybe let him get killed, and maybe I'm to blame. But I'm going to +find him, and if he's hurt--damn _me_! I'm going to have a hand on the +rope that lifts the men that did it, if I have to go to Rouen to put it +there! After that I'll answer for my fault, not before!" + +He threw himself on his horse and was gone. Soon the room was emptied, as +the patrons of the bar returned to the search, and only Mr. Wilkerson and +the landlord remained, the bar being the professional office, so to speak, +of both. + +Wilkerson had a chair in a corner, where he sat chanting a funeral march +in a sepulchral murmur, allowing a parenthetical _hic_ to punctuate the +dirge in place of the drum. Whenever a batch of newcomers entered, he rose +to drink with them; and, at such times, after pouring off his liquor with +a rich melancholy, shedding tears after every swallow, he would make an +exploring tour of the room on his way back to his corner, stopping to look +under each chair inquiringly and ejaculate: "Why, where kin he be!" Then, +shaking his head, he would observe sadly: "Fine young man, he was, too; +fine young man. Pore fellow! I reckon we hain't a-goin' to git him." + +At eleven o'clock. Judge Briscoe dropped wearily from his horse at his own +gate, and said to a wan girl who came running down the walk to meet him: +"There is nothing, yet. I sent the telegram to your mother--to Mrs. +Sherwood." + +Helen turned away without answering. Her face was very white and looked +pinched about the mouth. She went back to where old Fisbee sat on the +porch, his white head held between his two hands; he was rocking himself +to and fro. She touched him gently, but he did not look up. She spoke to +him. + +"There isn't anything--yet. He sent the telegram to mamma. I shall stay +with you, now, no matter what you say." She sat beside him and put her +head down on his shoulder, and though for a moment he appeared not to +notice it, when Minnie came out on the porch, hearing her father at the +door, the old scholar had put his arm about the girl and was stroking her +fair hair softly. + +Briscoe glanced at them, and raised a warning finger to his daughter, and +they went tiptoeing into the house, where the judge dropped heavily upon a +sofa with an asthmatic sigh; he was worn and tired. Minnie stood before +him with a look of pale inquiry, and he shook his head. + +"No use to tell _them_; but I can't see any hope," he answered her, biting +nervously at the end of a cigar. "I expect you better bring me some coffee +in here; I couldn't take another step to save me. I'm too old to tear +around the country horseback before breakfast, like I have to-day." + +"Did you send her telegram?" Minnie asked, as he drank the coffee she +brought him. She had interpreted "coffee" liberally, and, with the +assistance of Mildy Upton (whose subdued nose was frankly red and who shed +tears on the raspberries), had prepared an appetizing table at his elbow. + +"Yes," responded the judge, "and I'm glad she sent it. I talked the other +way yesterday, what little I said--it isn't any of our business--but I +don't think any too much of those people, somehow. She thinks she belongs +with Fisbee, and I guess she's right. That young fellow must have got +along with her pretty well, and I'm afraid when she gives up she'll be +pretty bad over it; but I guess we all will. It's terribly sudden, +somehow, though it's only what everybody half expected would come; only we +thought it would come from over yonder." He nodded toward the west. "But +she's got to stay here with us. Boarding at Sol Tibbs's with that old man +won't do; and she's no girl to live in two rooms. You fix it up with her-- +you make her stay." + +"She must," answered his daughter as she knelt beside him and patted his +coat and handed him several things to eat at the same time. "Mr. Fisbee +will help me persuade her, now that she's bound to stay in spite of him +and the Sherwoods, too. I think she is perfectly grand to do it. I've +always thought she was grand--ever since she took me under her wing at +school when I was terribly 'country' and frightened; but she was so sweet +and kind she made me forget. She was the pet of the school, too, always +doing things for the other girls, for everybody; looking out for people +simply heads and heads bigger than herself, and so recklessly generous and +so funny about it; and always thoughtful and--and--pleasant----" + +Minnie was speaking sadly, mechanically; but suddenly she broke off with a +quick sob, sprang up and went to the window; then, turning, cried out: + +"I don't believe it! He knew how to take care of himself too well. He'd +have got away from them." + +Her father shook his head. "Then why hasn't he turned up? He'd have gone +home after the storm if something bad wasn't the matter." + +"But nothing--nothing _that_ bad could have happened. They haven't found-- +any--anything." + +"But why hasn't he come back, child?" + +"Well, he's lying hurt somewhere, that's all." + +"Then why haven't they found him?" + +"I don't care!" she cried, and choked with the words and tossed her +dishevelled hair from her temples; "it isn't true. Helen won't believe it +--why should I? It's only a few hours since he was right here in our yard, +talking to us all. I won't believe it till they've searched every stick +and stone of Six-Cross-Roads and found him." + +"It wasn't the Cross-Roads," said the old gentleman, pushing the table +away and relaxing his limbs on the sofa. "They probably didn't have +anything to do with it. We thought they had at first, but everybody's +about come to believe it was those two devils that he had arrested +yesterday." + +"Not the Cross-Roads!" echoed Minnie, and she began to tremble violently. +"Haven't they been out there yet?" + +"What use? They are out of it, and they can thank God they are!" + +"They are not!" she cried excitedly. "They did it. It was the White-Caps. +We saw them, Helen and I." + +The judge got upon his feet with an oath. He had not sworn for years until +that morning. "What's this?" he said sharply. + +"I ought to have told you before, but we were so frightened, and--and you +went off in such a rush after Mr. Wiley was here. I never dreamed +everybody wouldn't know it was the Cross-Roads; that they would _think_ of +any one else. And I looked for the scarecrow as soon as it was light and +it was 'way off from where we saw them, and wasn't blown down at all, and +Helen saw them in the field besides--saw all of them----" + +He interrupted her. "What do you mean? Try to tell me about it quietly, +child." He laid his hand on her shoulder. + +She told him breathlessly (while he grew more and more visibly perturbed +and uneasy, biting his cigar to pieces and groaning at intervals) what she +and Helen had seen in the storm. When she finished he took a few quick +turns about the room with his hands thrust deep in his coat pockets, and +then, charging her to repeat the story to no one, left the house, and, +forgetting his fatigue, rapidly crossed the fields to the point where the +bizarre figures of the night had shown themselves to the two girls at the +window. + +The soft ground had been trampled by many feet. The boot-prints pointed to +the northeast. He traced them backward to the southwest through the field, +and saw where they had come from near the road, going northeast. Then, +returning, he climbed the fence and followed them northward through the +next field. From there, the next, beyond the road that was a continuation +of Main Street, stretched to the railroad embankment. The track, raggedly +defined in trampled loam and muddy furrow, bent in a direction which +indicated that its terminus might be the switch where the empty cars had +stood last night, waiting for the one-o'clock freight. Though the fields +had been trampled down in many places by the searching parties, he felt +sure of the direction taken by the Cross-Roads men, and he perceived that +the searchers had mistaken the tracks he followed for those of earlier +parties in the hunt. On the embankment he saw a number of men, walking +west and examining the ground on each side, and a long line of people +following them out from town. He stopped. He held the fate of Six-Cross- +Roads in his hand and he knew it. + +He knew that if he spoke, his evidence would damn the Cross-Roads, and +that it meant that more than the White-Caps would be hurt, for the Cross- +Roads would fight. If he had believed that the dissemination of his +knowledge could have helped Harkless, he would have called to the men near +him at once; but he had no hope that the young man was alive. They would +not have dragged him out to their shanties wounded, or as a prisoner; such +a proceeding would have courted detection, and, also, they were not that +kind; they had been "looking for him" a long time, and their one idea was +to kill him. + +And Harkless, for all his gentleness, was the sort of man, Briscoe +believed, who would have to be killed before he could be touched. Of one +thing the old gentleman was sure; the editor had not been tied up and +whipped while yet alive. In spite of his easy manners and geniality, there +was a dignity in him that would have made him kill and be killed before +the dirty fingers of a Cross-Roads "White-Cap" could have been laid upon +him in chastisement. A great many good Americans of Carlow who knew him +well always Mistered him as they would have Mistered only an untitled +Morton or Hendricks who might have lived amongst them. He was the only man +the old darky, Uncle Xenophon, had ever addressed as "Marse" since he came +to Plattville, thirty years ago. + +Briscoe considered it probable that a few people were wearing bandages, in +the closed shanties over to the west to-day. A thought of the number they +had brought against one man; a picture of the unequal struggle, of the +young fellow he had liked so well, unarmed and fighting hopelessly in a +trap, and a sense of the cruelty of it, made the hot anger surge up in his +breast, and he started on again. Then he stopped once more. Though long +retired from faithful service on the bench, he had been all his life a +serious exponent of the law, and what he went to tell meant lawlessness +that no one could hope to check. He knew the temper of the people; their +long suffering was at an end, and they would go over at last and wipe out +the Cross-Roads. It depended on him. If the mob could be held off over +to-day, if men's minds could cool over night, the law could strike and the +innocent and the hotheaded be spared from suffering. He would wait; he +would lay his information before the sheriff; and Horner would go quietly +with a strong posse, for he would need a strong one. He began to retrace +his steps. + +The men on the embankment were walking slowly, bending far over, their +eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly one of them stood erect and tossed his +arms in the air and shouted loudly. Other men ran to him, and another far +down the track repeated the shout and the gesture to another far in his +rear; this man took it up, and shouted and waved to a fourth man, and so +they passed the signal back to town. There came, almost immediately three +long, loud whistles from a mill near the station, and the embankment grew +black with people pouring out from town, while the searchers came running +from the fields and woods and underbrush on both sides of the railway. + +Briscoe paused for the last time; then he began to walk slowly toward the +embankment. + +The track lay level and straight, not dimming in the middle distances, the +rails converging to points, both northwest and southeast, in the clean- +washed air, like examples of perspective in a child's drawing-book. About +seventy miles to the west and north lay Rouen; and, in the same direction, +nearly six miles from where the signal was given, the track was crossed by +a road leading directly south to Six-Cross-Roads. + +The embankment had been newly ballasted with sand. What had been +discovered was a broad brown stain on the south slope near the top. There +were smaller stains above and below; none beyond it to left or right; and +there were deep boot-prints in the sand. Men were examining the place +excitedly, talking and gesticulating. It was Lige Willetts who had found +it. His horse was tethered to a fence near by, at the end of a lane +through a cornfield. Jared Wiley, the deputy, was talking to a group near +the stain, explaining. + +"You see them two must have knowed about the one-o'clock freight, and that +it was to stop here to take on the empty lumber cars. I don't know how +they knowed it, but they did. It was this way: when they dropped from the +window, they beat through the storm, straight for this side-track. At the +same time Mr. Harkless leaves Briscoes' goin' west. It begins to rain. He +cuts across to the railroad to have a sure footing, and strikin' for the +deepo for shelter--near place as any except Briscoes' where he'd said +good-night already and prob'ly don't wish to go back, 'fear of givin' +trouble or keepin' 'em up--anybody can understand that. He comes along, +and gets to where we are precisely at the time _they_ do, them comin' from +town, him strikin' for it. They run right into each other. That's what +happened. They re-_cog_-nized him and raised up on him and let him have +it. What they done it with, I don't know; we took everything in that line +off of 'em; prob'ly used railroad iron; and what they done with him +afterwards we don't know; but we will by night. They'll sweat it out of +'em up at Rouen when they get 'em." + +"I reckon maybe some of us might help," remarked Mr. Watts, reflectively. + +Jim Bardlock swore a violent oath. "That's the talk!" he shouted. "Ef I +ain't the first man of this crowd to set my foot in Roowun, an' first to +beat in that jail door, an' take 'em out an' hang 'em by the neck till +they're dead, dead, dead, I'm not Town Marshal of Plattville, County of +Carlow, State of Indiana, and the Lord have mercy on our souls!" + +Tom Martin looked at the brown stain and quickly turned away; then he went +back slowly to the village. On the way he passed Warren Smith. + +"Is it so?" asked the lawyer. + +Martin answered with a dry throat. He looked out dimly over the sunlit +fields, and swallowed once or twice. "Yes, it's so. There's a good deal of +it there. Little more than a boy he was." The old fellow passed his seamy +hand over his eyes without concealment. "Peter ain't very bright, +sometimes, it seems to me," he added, brokenly; "overlook Bodeffer and +Fisbee and me and all of us old husks, and--and--" he gulped suddenly, +then finished--"and act the fool and take a boy that's the best we had. I +wish the Almighty would take Peter off the gate; he ain't fit fer it." + +When the attorney reached the spot where the crowd was thickest, way was +made for him. The old colored man, Xenophon, approached at the same time, +leaning on a hickory stick and bent very far over, one hand resting on his +hip as if to ease a rusty joint. The negro's age was an incentive to +fable; from his appearance he might have known the prophets, and he wore +that hoary look of unearthly wisdom many decades of superstitious +experience sometimes give to members of his race. His face, so tortured +with wrinkles that it might have been made of innumerable black threads +woven together, was a living mask of the mystery of his blood. Harkless +had once said that Uncle Xenophon had visited heaven before Swedenborg and +hell before Dante. To-day, as he slowly limped over the ties, his eyes +were bright and dry under the solemn lids, and, though his heavy nostrils +were unusually distended in the effort for regular breathing, the deeply +puckered lips beneath them were set firmly. + +He stopped and looked at the faces before him. When he spoke his voice was +gentle, and though the tremulousness of age harped on the vocal strings, +it was rigidly controlled. "Kin some kine gelmun," he asked, "please t'be +so good ez t' show de ole main whuh de W'ite-Caips is done shoot Marse +Hawkliss?" + +"Here was where it happened, Uncle Zen," answered Wiley, leaning him +forward. "Here is the stain." + +Xenophon bent over the spot on the sand, making little odd noises in his +throat. Then he painfully resumed his former position. "Dass his blood," +he said, in the same gentle, quavering tone. "Dass my bes' frien' whut lay +on de groun' whuh yo staind, gelmun." + +There was a pause, and no one spoke. + +"Dass whuh day laid 'im an' dass whuh he lie," the old negro continued. +"Dey shot 'im in de fiels. Dey ain' shot 'im hear-yondeh dey drugged 'im, +but dis whuh he lie." He bent over again, then knelt, groaningly, and +placed his hand on the stain, one would have said, as a man might place +his hand over a heart to see if it still beat. He was motionless, with the +air of hearkening. + +"Marse, honey, is you gone?" He raised his voice as if calling, "Is you +gone, suh?--Marse?" + +He looked up at the circle about him, and, still kneeling, not taking his +hand from the sand, seeming to wait for a sign, to listen for a voice, he +said: "Whafo' you gelmun think de good Lawd summon Marse Hawkliss? Kaze he +de mos' fittes'? You know dat man he ketch me in de cole night, wintuh +'to' lais', stealin' 'is wood. You know whut he done t'de ole thief? Tek +an' bull' up big fiah een ole Zen' shainty; say, 'He'p yo'se'f an' +welcome. Reckon you hongry, too, ain' you, Xenophon?' Tek an' feed me. Tek +an' tek keer o' me ev' since. Ah pump de baith full in de mawin'; mek 'is +bed; pull de weeds out'n of de front walk--dass all. He tek me in. When Ah +aisk 'im ain' he fraid keep ole thief he say, jesso: 'Dass all my fault, +Xenophon; ought look you up long 'go; ought know long 'go you be cole dese +baid nights. Reckon Ahm de thievenest one us two, Xenophon, keepin' all +dis wood stock' up when you got none,' he say, jesso. Tek me in; say he +_lahk_ a thief. Pay me sala'y. Feed me. Dass de main whut de Caips gone +shot lais' night." He raised his head sharply, and the mystery in his +gloomy eyes intensified as they opened wide and stared at the sky, +unseeingly. + +"Ise bawn wid a cawl!" he exclaimed, loudly. His twisted frame was braced +to an extreme tension. "Ise bawn wid a cawl! De blood anssuh!" + +"It wasn't the Cross-Roads, Uncle Xenophon," said Warren Smith, laying his +hand on the old man's shoulder. + +Xenophon rose to his feet. He stretched a long, bony arm straight to the +west, where the Cross-Roads lay; stood rigid and silent, like a seer; then +spoke: + +"De men whut shot Marse Hawkliss lies yondeh, hidin' f'um de light o' day. +An' _him_"--he swerved his whole rigid body till the arm pointed +northwest--"he lies yondeh. You won't find him heah. Dey fought 'im een de +fiel's an' dey druggen 'im heah. Dis whim dey lay 'im down. Ise bawn wid +a cawl!" + +There were exclamations from the listeners, for Xenophon spoke as one +having authority. Suddenly he turned and pointed his outstretched hand +full at Judge Briscoe. + +"An' dass de main," he cried, "dass de main kin tell you Ah speak de +trufe." + +Before he was answered, Eph Watts looked at Briscoe keenly and then turned +to Lige Willetts and whispered: "Get on your horse, ride in, and ring the +court-house bell like the devil. Do as I say!" + +Tears stood in the judge's eyes. "It is so," he said, solemnly. "He speaks +the truth. I didn't mean to tell it to-day, but somehow--" He paused. "The +hounds!" he cried. "They deserve it! My daughter saw them crossing the +fields in the night--saw them climb the fence, hoods, gowns, and all, a +big crowd of them. She and the lady who is visiting us saw them, saw them +plainly. The lady saw them several times, clear as day, by the flashes of +lightning--the scoundrels were coming this way. They must have been +dragging him with them then. He couldn't have had a show for his life +amongst them. Do what you like--maybe they've got him at the Cross-Roads. +If there's a chance of it--dead or alive--bring him back!" + +A voice rang out above the clamor that followed the judge's speech. + +"'Bring him back!' God could, maybe, but He won't. Who's travelling my +way? I go west!" Hartley Bowlder had ridden his sorrel up the embankment, +and the horse stood between the rails. There was an angry roar from the +crowd; the prosecutor pleaded and threatened unheeded; and as for the +deputy sheriff, he declared his intention of taking with him all who +wished to go as his posse. Eph Watts succeeded in making himself heard +above the tumult. + +"The Square!" he shouted. "Start from the Square. We want everybody, and +we'll need them. We want every one in Carlow to be implicated in this +posse." + +"They will be!" shouted a farmer. "Don't you worry about that." + +"We want to get into some sort of shape," cried Eph. + +"Shape, hell!" said Hartley Bowlder. + +There was a hiss and clang and rattle behind him, and a steam whistle +shrieked. The crowd divided, and Hartley's sorrel jumped just in time as +the westbound accommodation rushed through on its way to Rouen. From the +rear platform leaned the sheriff, Horner, waving his hands frantically as +he flew by, but no one understood--or cared--what he said, or, in the +general excitement, even wondered why he was leaving the scene of his duty +at such a time. When the train had dwindled to a dot and disappeared, and +the noise of its rush grew faint, the court-house bell was heard ringing, +and the mob was piling pell-mell into the village to form on the Square. +The judge stood alone on the embankment. + +"That settles it," he said aloud, gloomily, watching the last figures. He +took off his hat and pushed back the thick, white hair from his forehead. +"Nothing to do but wait. Might as well go home for that. Blast it!" he +exclaimed, impatiently. "I don't want to go there. It's too hard on the +little girl. If she hadn't come till next week she'd never have known John +Harkless." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +JOHN BROWN'S BODY + +All morning horsemen had been galloping through Six-Cross-Roads, sometimes +singly, oftener in company. At one-o'clock the last posse passed through +on its return to the county-seat, and after that there was a long, +complete silence, while the miry corners were undisturbed by a single +hoof-beat. No unkempt colt nickered from his musty stall; the sparse young +corn that was used to rasp and chuckle greenly stood rigid in the fields. +Up the Plattville pike despairingly cackled one old hen, with her wabbling +sailor run, smit with a superstitious horror of nothing, in the stillness; +she hid herself in the shadow underneath a rickety barn, and her shrieking +ceased. + +Only on the Wimby farm were there signs of life. The old lady who had sent +Harkless roses sat by the window all morning and wiped her eyes, watching +the horsemen ride by; sometimes they would hail her and tell her there was +nothing yet. About two-o'clock, her husband rattled up in a buckboard, and +got out the late, and more authentic, Mr. Wimby's shot-gun, which he +carefully cleaned and oiled, in spite of its hammerless and quite useless +condition, sitting, meanwhile, by the window opposite his wife, and often +looking up from his work to shake his weak fist at his neighbors' +domiciles and creak decrepit curses and denunciations. + +But the Cross-Roads was ready. It knew what was coming now. Frightened, +desperate, sullen, it was ready. + +The afternoon wore on, and lengthening shadows fell upon a peaceful--one +would have said, a sleeping--country. The sun-dried pike, already dusty, +stretched its serene length between green borders flecked with purple and +yellow and white weedflowers; and the tree shadows were not shade, but +warm blue and lavender glows in the general pervasion of still, bright +light, the sky curving its deep, unburnished, penetrable blue over all, +with no single drift of fleece upon it to be reflected in the creek that +wound along past willow and sycamore. A woodpecker's telegraphy broke the +quiet like a volley of pistol shots. + +But far eastward on the pike there slowly developed a soft, white haze. It +grew denser and larger. Gradually it rolled nearer. Dimly behind it could +be discerned a darker, moving nucleus that extended far back upon the +road. A heavy tremor began to stir the air--faint manifold sounds, a +waxing, increasing, multitudinous rumor. + +The pike ascended a long, slight slope leading west up to the Cross-Roads. +From a thicket of iron-weed at the foot of this slope was thrust the hard, +lean visage of an undersized girl of fourteen. Her fierce eyes examined +the approaching cloud of dust intently. A redness rose under the burnt +yellow skin and colored the wizened cheeks. + +They were coming. + +She stepped quickly out of the tangle, and darted up the road, running +with the speed of a fleet little terrier, not opening her lips, not +calling out, but holding her two thin hands high above her head. That was +all. But Birnam wood was come to Dunsinane at last, and the messenger +sped. Out of the weeds in the corners of the snake fence, in the upper +part of the rise, silently lifted the heads of men whose sallowness became +a sickish white as the child flew by. + +The mob was carefully organized. They had taken their time and had +prepared everything deliberately, knowing that nothing could stop them. No +one had any thought of concealment; it was all as open as the light of +day, all done in the broad sunshine. Nothing had been determined as to +what was to be done at the Cross-Roads more definite than that the place +was to be wiped out. That was comprehensive enough; the details were quite +certain to occur. They were all on foot, marching in fairly regular ranks. +In front walked Mr. Watts, the man Harkless had abhorred in a public +spirit and befriended in private--to-day he was a hero and a leader, +marching to avenge his professional oppressor and personal brother. Cool, +unruffled, and, to outward vision, unarmed, marching the miles in his +brown frock coat and generous linen, his carefully creased trousers neatly +turned up out of the dust, he led the way. On one side of him were the two +Bowlders, on the other was Lige Willetts, Mr. Watts preserving peace +between the two young men with perfect tact and sang-froid. + +They kept good order and a similitude of quiet for so many, except far to +the rear, where old Wilkerson was bringing up the tail of the procession, +dragging a wretched yellow dog by a slip-noose fastened around the poor +cur's protesting neck, the knot carefully arranged under his right ear. In +spite of every command and protest, Wilkerson had marched the whole way +uproariously singing, "John Brown's Body." + +The sun was in the west when they came in sight of the Cross-Roads, and +the cabins on the low slope stood out angularly against the radiance +beyond. As they beheld the hated settlement, the heretofore orderly ranks +showed a disposition to depart from the steady advance and rush the +shanties. Willetts, the Bowlders, Parker, Ross, Schofield, and fifty +others did, in fact, break away and set a sharp pace up the slope. + +Watts tried to call them back. "What's the use your gettin' killed?" he +shouted. + +"Why not?" answered Lige, who, like the others, was increasing his speed +when old "Wimby" rose up suddenly from the roadside ahead of them, and +motioned them frantically to go back. "They're laid out along the fence, +waitin' fer ye," he warned them. "Git out the road. Come by the fields. +Per the Lord's sake, spread!" Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he +dropped down into the weeds again. Lige and those with him paused, and the +whole body came to a halt while the leaders consulted. There was a sound +of metallic clicking and a thin rattle of steel. From far to the rear came +the voice of old Wilkerson: + + "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground--" + +A few near him, as they stood waiting, began to take up the burden of the +song, singing in slow time like a dirge; then those further away took it +up; it spread, reached the leaders; they, too, began to sing, taking off +their hats as they joined in; and soon the whole concourse, solemn, +earnest, and uncovered, was singing--a thunderous requiem for John +Harkless. + +The sun was swinging lower and the edges of the world were embroidered +with gold while that deep volume of sound shook the air, the song of a +stern, savage, just cause--sung, perhaps, as some of the ancestors of +these men sang with Hampden before the bristling walls of a hostile city. +It had iron and steel in it. The men lying on their guns in the ambuscade +along the fence heard the dirge rise and grow to its mighty fulness, and +they shivered. One of them, posted nearest the advance, had his rifle +carefully levelled at Lige Willetts, a fair target in the road. When he +heard the singing, he turned to the man next behind him and laughed +harshly: "I reckon we'll see a big jamboree in hell to-night, huh?" + +The huge murmur of the chorus expanded, and gathered in rhythmic strength, +and swelled to power, and rolled and thundered across the plain. + + "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + His soul goes marching on! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + His soul goes marching on!" + +A gun spat from the higher ground, and Willetts dropped where he stood, +but was up again in a second, with a red line across his forehead where +the ball had grazed his temple. Then the mob spread out like a fan, +hundreds of men climbing the fence and beginning the advance through the +fields, dosing on the ambuscade from both sides. Mr. Watts, wading through +the high grass in the field north of the road, perceived the barrel of a +gun shining from a bush some distance in front of him, and, although in +the same second no weapon was seen in his hand, discharged a revolver at +the bush behind the gun. Instantly ten or twelve men leaped from their +hiding-places along the fences of both fields, and, firing hurriedly and +harmlessly into the scattered ranks of the oncoming mob, broke for the +shelter of the houses, where their fellows were posted. Taken on the +flanks and from the rear, there was but one thing for them to do to keep +from being hemmed in and shot or captured. (They excessively preferred +being shot.) With a wild, high, joyous yell, sounding like the bay of +young hounds breaking into view of their quarry, the Plattville men +followed. + +The most eastward of the debilitated edifices of Six-Cross-Roads was the +saloon, which bore the painted legends: on the west wall, "Last Chance"; +on the east wall, "First Chance." Next to this, and separated by two or +three acres of weedy vacancy from the corners where the population centred +thickest, stood-if one may so predicate of a building which leaned in +seven directions-the house of Mr. Robert Skillett, the proprietor of the +saloon. Both buildings were shut up as tight as their state of repair +permitted. As they were furthest to the east, they formed the nearest +shelter, and to them the Cross-Roaders bent their flight, though they +stopped not here, but disappeared behind Skillett's shanty, putting it +between them and their pursuers, whose guns were beginning to speak. The +fugitives had a good start, and, being the picked runners of the Cross- +Roads, they crossed the open, weedy acres in safety and made for their +homes. Every house had become a fort, and the defenders would have to be +fought and torn out one by one. As the guns sounded, a woman in a shanty +near the forge began to scream, and kept on screaming. + +On came the farmers and the men of Plattville. They took the saloon at a +run; battered down the crazy doors with a fence-rail, and swarmed inside +like busy insects, making the place hum like a hive, but with the hotter +industries of destruction. It was empty of life as a tomb, but they beat +and tore and battered and broke and hammered and shattered like madmen; +they reduced the tawdry interior to a mere chaos, and came pouring forth +laden with trophies of ruin. And then there was a charry smell in the air, +and a slender feather of smoke floated up from a second-story window. + +At the same time Watts led an assault on the adjoining house--an assault +which came to a sudden pause, for, from cracks in the front wall, a +squirrel-rifle and a shot-gun snapped and banged, and the crowd fell back +in disorder. Homer Tibbs had a hat blown away, full of buck-shot holes, +while Mr. Watts solicitously examined a small aperture in the skirts of +his brown coat. The house commanded the road, and the rush of the mob into +the village was checked, but only for the instant. + +A rickety woodshed, which formed a portion of the Skillett mansion, +closely joined the "Last Chance" side of the family place of business. +Scarcely had the guns of the defenders sounded, when, with a loud shout, +Lige Willetts leaped from an upper window on that side of the burning +saloon and landed on the woodshed, and, immediately climbing the roof of +the house itself, applied a fiery brand to the time-worn clapboards. Ross +Schofield dropped on the shed, close behind him, his arm lovingly +enfolding a gallon jug of whiskey, which he emptied (not without evident +regret) upon the clapboards as Lige fired them. Flames burst forth almost +instantly, and the smoke, uniting with that now rolling out of every +window of the saloon, went up to heaven in a cumbrous, gray column. + +As the flames began to spread, there was a rapid fusillade from the rear +of the house, and a hundred men and more, who had kept on through the +fields to the north, assailed it from behind. Their shots passed clear +through the flimsy partitions, and there was a horrid screeching, like a +beast's howls, from within. The front door was thrown open, and a lean, +fierce-eyed girl, with a case-knife in her hand, ran out in the face of +the mob. At sound of the shots in the rear they had begun to advance on +the house a second time, and Hartley Bowlder was the nearest man to the +girl. With awful words, and shrieking inconceivably, she made straight at +Hartley, and attacked him with the knife. She struck at him again and +again, and, in her anguish of hate and fear, was so extraordinary a +spectacle that she gained for her companions the four or five seconds they +needed to escape from the house. As she hurled herself alone at the +oncoming torrent, they sped from the door unnoticed, sprang over the +fence, and reached the open lots to the west before they were seen by +Willetts from the roof. + +"Don't let 'em fool you!" he shouted. "Look to I your left! There they go! +Don't let 'em get away." + +The Cross-Readers were running across the field. They were Bob Skillett +and his younger brother, and Mr. Skillett was badly damaged: he seemed to +be holding his jaw on his face with both hands. The girl turned, and sped +after them. She was over the fence almost as soon as they were, and the +three ran in single file, the girl last. She was either magnificently +sacrificial and fearless, or she cunningly calculated that the regulators +would take no chances of killing a woman-child, for she kept between their +guns and her two companions, trying to cover and shield the latter with +her frail body. + +"Shoot, Lige," called Watts. "If we fire from here we'll hit the girl. +Shoot!" + +Willetts and Ross Schofield were still standing on the roof, at the edge, +out of the smoke, and both fired at the same time. The fugitives did not +turn; they kept on running, and they had nearly reached the other side of +the field, when suddenly, without any premonitory gesture, the elder +Skillett dropped flat on his face. The Cross-Roaders stood by each other +that day, for four or five men ran out of the nearest shanty into the +open, lifted the prostrate figure from the ground, and began to carry it +back with them. But Mr. Skillett was alive; his curses were heard above +all other sounds. Lige and Schofield fired again, and one of the rescuers +staggered. Nevertheless, as the two men slid down from the roof, the +burdened Cross-Readers were seen to break into a run; and at that, with +another yell, fiercer, wilder, more joyous than the first, the Plattville +men followed. + +The yell rang loudly in the ears of old Wilkerson, who had remained back +in the road, and at the same instant he heard another shout behind him. +Mr. Wilkerson had not shared in the attack, but, greatly preoccupied with +his own histrionic affairs, was proceeding up the pike alone--except for +the unhappy yellow mongrel, still dragged along by the slip-noose--and +alternating, as was his natural wont, from one fence to the other; +crouching behind every bush to fire an imaginary rifle at his dog, and +then springing out, with triumphant bellowings, to fall prone upon the +terrified animal. It was after one of these victories that a shout of +warning was raised behind him, and Mr. Wilkerson, by grace of the god +Bacchus, rolling out of the way in time to save his life, saw a horse dash +by him--a big, black horse whose polished flanks were dripping with +lather. Warren Smith was the rider. He was waving a slip of yellow paper +high in the air. + +He rode up the slope, and drew rein beyond the burning buildings, just +ahead of those foremost in the pursuit. He threw his horse across the road +to oppose their progress, rose in his stirrups, and waved the paper over +his head. "Stop!" he roared, "Give me one minute. Stop!" He had a grand +voice; and he was known in many parts of the State for the great bass roar +with which he startled his juries. To be heard at a distance most men lift +the pitch of their voices; Smith lowered his an octave or two, and the +result was like an earthquake playing an organ in a catacomb. + +"Stop!" he thundered. "Stop!" + +In answer, one of the flying Cross-Roaders turned and sent a bullet +whistling close to him. The lawyer paused long enough to bow deeply in +satirical response; then, flourishing the paper, he roared again: "Stop! A +mistake! I have news! Stop, I say! Homer has got them!" + +To make himself heard over that tempestuous advance was a feat; for him, +moreover, whose counsels had so lately been derided, to interest the +pursuers at such a moment enough to make them listen--to find the word-- +was a greater; and by the word, and by gestures at once vehemently +imperious and imploring, to stop them was still greater; but he did it. He +had come at just the moment before the moment that would have been too +late. They all heard him. They all knew, too, he was not trying to save +the Cross-Roads as a matter of duty, because he had given that up before +the mob left Plattville. Indeed, it was a question if, at the last, he had +not tacitly approved; and no one feared indictments for the day's work. It +would do no harm to listen to what he had to say. The work could wait; it +would "keep" for five minutes. They began to gather around him, excited, +flushed, perspiring, and smelling of smoke. Hartley Bowlder, won by Lige's +desperation and intrepidity, was helping the latter tie up his head; no +one else was hurt. + +"What is it?" they clamored impatiently. "Speak quick!" There was another +harmless shot from a fugitive, and then the Cross-Roaders, divining that +the diversion was in their favor, secured themselves in their decrepit +fastnesses and held their fire. Meanwhile, the flames crackled cheerfully +in Plattville ears. No matter what the prosecutor had to say, at least the +Skillett saloon and homestead were gone, and Bob Skillett and one other +would be sick enough to be good for a while. + +"Listen," cried Warren Smith, and, rising in his stirrups again, read the +missive in his hand, a Western Union telegraph form. "Warren Smith, +Plattville," was the direction. "Found both shell-men. Police familiar +with both, and both wanted here. One arrested at noon in a second-hand +clothes store, wearing Harkless's hat, also trying dispose torn full-dress +coat known to have been worn by Harkless last night. Stains on lining +believed blood. Second man found later at freight-yards in empty lumber +car left Plattville 1 P.M., badly hurt, shot, and bruised. Supposed +Harkless made hard fight. Hurt man taken to hospital unconscious. Will +die. Hope able question him first and discover whereabouts body. Other man +refuses talk so far. Check any movement Cross-Roads. This clears Skillett, +etc. Come over on 9.15." + +The telegram was signed by Homer and by Barrett, the superintendent of +police at Rouen. + +"It's all a mistake, boys," the lawyer said, as he handed the paper to +Watts and Parker for inspection. "The ladies at the judge's were mistaken, +that's all, and this proves it. It's easy enough to understand: they were +frightened by the storm, and, watching a fence a quarter-mile away by +flashes of lightning, any one would have been confused, and imagined all +the horrors on earth. I don't deny but what I believed it for a while, and +I don't deny but the Cross-Roads is pretty tough, but you've done a good +deal here already, to-day, and we're saved in time from a mistake that +would have turned out mighty bad. This settles it. Homer got a wire from +Rouen to come over there, soon as they got track of the first man; that +was when we saw him on the Rouen accommodation." + +A slightly cracked voice, yet a huskily tuneful one, was lifted +quaveringly on the air from the roadside, where an old man and a yellow +dog sat in the dust together, the latter reprieved at the last moment, his +surprised head rakishly garnished with a hasty wreath of dog-fennel +daisies. + + "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + While we go marching on!" + +Three-quarters of an hour later, the inhabitants of the Cross-Roads, +saved, they knew not how; guilty; knowing nothing of the fantastic +pendulum of opinion, which, swung by the events of the day, had marked the +fatal moment of guilt, now on others, now on them, who deserved it--these +natives and refugees, conscious of atrocity, dumfounded by a miracle, +thinking the world gone mad, hovered together in a dark, ragged mass at +the crossing corners, while the skeleton of the rotting buggy in the +slough rose behind them against the face of the west. They peered with +stupified eyes through the smoky twilight. + +From afar, faintly through the gloaming, came mournfully to their ears the +many-voiced refrain--fainter, fainter: + + "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground, + John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the ground. + John Brown's body lies--mould-- + . . . . . we go march . . . . on." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +JERRY THE TELLER +At midnight a small brougham stopped at the gates of the city hospital in +Rouen. A short distance ahead, the lamps of a cab, drawn up at the +curbing, made two dull orange sparks under the electric light swinging +over the street. A cigarette described a brief parabola as it was tossed +from the brougham, and a short young man jumped out and entered the gates, +then paused and spoke to the driver of the cab. + +"Did you bring Mr. Barrett here?" + +"Yes, sir," answered the driver; "him and two other gentlemen." + +Lighting another cigarette, from which he drew but two inspirations before +he threw it away, the young man proceeded quickly up the walk. As he +ascended the short flight of steps which led to the main doors, he panted +a little, in a way which suggested that (although his white waistcoat +outlined an ellipse still respectable) a crescendo of portliness was +playing diminuendo with his youth. And, though his walk was brisk, it was +not lively. The expression of his very red face indicated that his +briskness was spurred by anxiety, and a fattish groan he emitted on the +top step added the impression that his comfortable body protested against +the mental spur. In the hall he removed his narrow-brimmed straw hat and +presented a rotund and amiable head, from the top of which his auburn hair +seemed to retire with a sense of defeat; it fell back, however, not in +confusion, but in perfect order, and the sparse pink mist left upon his +crown gave, by a supreme effort, an effect of arrangement, so that an +imaginative observer would have declared that there was a part down the +middle. The gentleman's plump face bore a grave and troubled expression, +and gravity and trouble were patent in all the lines of his figure and in +every gesture; in the way he turned his head; in the uneasy shifting of +his hat from one hand to the other and in his fanning himself with it in a +nervous fashion; and in his small, blue eyes, which did not twinkle behind +his rimless glasses and looked unused to not twinkling. His gravity +clothed him like an ill-fitting coat; or, possibly, he might have reminded +the imaginative observer, just now conjured up, of a music-box set to +turning its cylinder backwards. + +He spoke to an attendant, and was directed to an office, which he entered +without delay. There were five men in the room, three of them engaged in +conversation near the door; another, a young surgeon, was writing at a +desk; the fifth drowsily nodding on a sofa. The newcomer bowed as he +entered. + +"Mr. Barrett?" he said inquiringly. + +One of the men near the door turned about. "Yes, sir," he answered, with a +stem disfavor of the applicant; a disfavor possibly a perquisite of his +office. "What's wanted?" + +"I think I have met you," returned the other. "My name is Meredith." + +Mr. Barrett probably did not locate the meeting, but the name proved an +open sesame to his geniality, for he melted at once, and saying: "Of +course, of course, Mr. Meredith; did you want a talk with me?" clasped the +young man's hand confidentially in his, and, with an appearance of +assuring him that whatever the atrocity which had occurred in the Meredith +household it should be discreetly handled and hushed up, indicated a +disposition to conduct him toward a more appropriate apartment for the +rehearsal of scandal. The young man accepted the hand-clasp with some +resignation, but rejected the suggestion of privacy. + +"A telegram from Plattville reached me half an hour ago," he said. "I +should have had it sooner, but I have been in the country all day." + +The two men who had been talking with the superintendent turned quickly, +and stared at the speaker. He went on: "Mr. Harkless was an old--and--" He +broke off, with a sudden, sharp choking, and for a moment was unable to +control an emotion that seemed, for some reason, as surprising and +unbefitting, in a person of his rubicund presence, as was his gravity. An +astonished tear glittered in the corner of his eye. The grief of the gayer +sorts of stout people appears, sometimes, to dumfound even themselves. The +young man took off his glasses and wiped them slowly. "--An old and very +dear friend of mine." He replaced the glasses insecurely upon his nose. "I +telephoned to your headquarters, and they said you had come here." + +"Yes, sir; yes, sir," the superintendent of police responded, cheerfully. +"These two gentlemen are from Plattville; Mr. Smith just got in. They +mighty near had big trouble down there to-day, but I guess we'll settle +things for 'em up here. Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Mr. +Smith, and my friend, Mr. Homer. Gentlemen, my friend, Mr. Meredith, one +of our well-known citizens." + +"You hear it from the police, gentlemen," added Mr. Meredith, perking up a +little. "I know Dr. Gay." He nodded to the surgeon. + +"I suppose you have heard some of the circumstances--those that we've +given out," said Barrett. + +"I read the account in the evening paper. I had heard of Harkless, of +Carlow, before; but it never occurred to me that it was my friend--I had +heard he was abroad--until I got this telegram from a relative of mine who +happened to be down there." + +"Well," said the superintendent, "your friend made a mighty good fight +before he gave up. The Teller, that's the man we've got out here, he's so +hacked up and shot and battered his mother wouldn't know him, if she +wanted to; at least, that's what Gay, here, says. We haven't seen him, +because the doctors have been at him ever since he was found, and they +expect to do some more tonight, when we've had our interview with him, if +he lives long enough. One of my sergeants found him in, the freight-yards +about four-o'clock and sent him here in the ambulance; knew it was Teller, +because he was stowed away in one of the empty cars that came from +Plattville last night, and Slattery--that's his running mate, the one we +caught with the coat and hat--gave in that they beat their way on that +freight. I guess Slattery let this one do most of the fighting; he ain't +scratched; but Mr. Harkless certainly made it hot for the Teller." + +"My relative believes that Mr. Harkless is still alive," said Meredith. + +Mr. Barrett permitted himself an indulgent smile. He had the air of having +long ago discovered everything which anybody might wish to know, and of +knowing a great deal which he held in reserve because it was necessary to +suppress many facts for a purpose far beyond his auditor's comprehension, +though a very simple matter to himself. + +"Well, hardly, I expect," he replied, easily. "No; he's hardly alive." + +"Oh, don't say that," said Meredith. + +"I'm afraid Mr. Barrett has to say it," broke in Warren Smith. "We're up +here to see this fellow before he dies, to try and get him to tell what +disposal they made of the----" + +"Ah!" Meredith shivered. "I believe I'd rather he said the other than to +hear you say that." + +Mr. Horner felt the need of defending a fellow-townsman, and came to the +rescue, flushing painfully. "It's mighty bad, I know," said the sheriff of +Carlow, the shadows of his honest, rough face falling in a solemn pattern; +"I reckon we hate to say it as much as you hate to hear it; and Warren +really didn't get the word out. It's stuck in our throats all day; and I +don't recollect as I heard a single man say it before I left our city this +morning. Our folks thought a great deal of him, Mr. Meredith; I don't +believe there's any thinks more. But it's come to that now; you can't +hardly see no chance left. We be'n sweating this other man, Slattery, but +we can't break him down. Jest tells us to go to"--the sheriff paused, +evidently deterred by the thought that swear-words were unbefitting a +hospital--"to the other place, and shets his jaw up tight. The one up here +is called the Teller, as Mr. Barrett says; his name's Jerry the Teller. +Well, we told Slattery that Jerry had died and left a confession; tried to +make him think there wasn't no hope fer him, and he might as well up and +tell his share; might git off easier; warned him to look out for a mob if +he didn't, maybe, and so on, but it never bothered him at all. He's nervy, +all right. Told us to go--that is, he said it again--and swore the Teller +was on his way to Chicago, swore he seen him git on the train. Wouldn't +say another word tell he got a lawyer. So, 'soon as it was any use, we +come up here--they reckon he'll come to before he dies. We'll be glad to +have you go in with us," Horner said kindly. "I reckon it's all the same +to Mr. Barrett." + +"He will die, will he, Gay?" Meredith asked, turning to the surgeon. + +"Oh, not necessarily," the young man replied, yawning slightly behind his +hand, and too long accustomed to straightforward questions to be shocked +at an evident wish for a direct reply. "His chances are better, because +they'll hang him if he gets well. They took the ball and a good deal of +shot out of his side, and there's a lot more for afterwhile, if he lasts. +He's been off the table an hour, and he's still going." + +"That's in his favor, isn't it?" said Meredith. "And extraordinary, too?" +If young Dr. Gay perceived a slur in these interrogations he betrayed no +exterior appreciation of it. + +"Shot!" exclaimed Homer. "Shot! I knowed there'd be'n a pistol used, +though where they got it beats me--we stripped 'em--and it wasn't Mr. +Harkless's; he never carried one. But a shot-gun!" + +An attendant entered and spoke to the surgeon, and Gay rose wearily, +touched the drowsy young man on the shoulder, and led the way to the door. +"You can come now," he said to the others; "though I doubt its being any +good to you. He's delirious." + +They went down a long hall and up a narrow corridor, then stepped softly +into a small, quiet ward. + +There was a pungent smell of chemicals in the room; the light was low, and +the dimness was imbued with a thick, confused murmur, incoherent +whisperings that came from a cot in the corner. It was the only cot in use +in the ward, and Meredith was conscious of a terror that made him dread, +to look at it, to go near it. Beside it a nurse sat silent, and upon it +feebly tossed the racked body of him whom Barrett had called Jerry the +Teller. + +The head was a shapeless bundle, so swathed it was with bandages and +cloths, and what part of the face was visible was discolored and pigmented +with drugs. Stretched under the white sheet the man looked immensely tall +--as Horner saw with vague misgiving--and he lay in an odd, inhuman +fashion, as though he had been all broken to pieces. His attempts to move +were constantly soothed by the nurse, and he as constantly renewed such +attempts; and one hand, though torn and bandaged, was not to be restrained +from a wandering, restless movement which Meredith felt to be pathetic. He +had entered the room with a flare of hate for the thug whom he had come to +see die, and who had struck down the old friend whose nearness he had +never known until it was too late. But at first sight of the broken figure +he felt all animosity fall away from him; only awe remained, and a +growing, traitorous pity as he watched the long, white fingers of the +Teller "pick at the coverlet." The man was muttering rapid fragments of +words, and syllables. + +"Somehow I feel a sense of wrong," Meredith whispered to Gay. "I feel as +if I had done the fellow to death myself, as if it were all out of gear. I +know, now, how Henry felt over the great Guisard. My God, how tall he +looks! That doesn't seem to me like a thug's hand." + +The surgeon nodded. "Of course, if there's a mistake to be made, you can +count on Barrett and his sergeants to make it. I doubt if this is their +man. When they found him what clothes he wore were torn and stained; but +they had been good once, especially the linen." + +Barrett bent over the recumbent figure. "See here. Jerry," he said, "I +want to talk to you a little. Rouse up, will you? I want to talk to you as +a friend." + +The incoherent muttering continued. + +"See here, Jerry!" repeated Barrett, more sharply. "Jerry! rouse up, will +you? We don't want any fooling; understand that, Jerry!" He dropped his +hand on the man's shoulder and shook him slightly. The Teller uttered a +short, gasping cry. + +"Let me," said Gay, and swiftly interposed. Bending over the cot, he said +in a pleasant, soft voice: "It's all right, old man; it's all right. +Slattery wants to know what you did with that man down at Plattville, when +you got through with him. He can't remember, and he thinks there was money +left on him. Slattery's head was hurt--he can't remember. He'll go shares +with you, when he gets it. Slattery's going to stand by you, if he can get +the money." + +The Teller only tried to move his free hand to the shoulder Barrett had +shaken. + +"Slattery wants to know," repeated the surgeon, gently moving the hand +back upon the sheet. "He'll divvy up, when he gets it. He'll stand by you, +old man." + +"Would you please not mind," whispered the Teller faintly, "would you +please not mind if you took care not to brush against my shoulder again?" + +The surgeon drew back with an exclamation; but the Teller's whisper +gathered strength, and they heard him murmuring oddly to himself. Meredith +moved forward. + +"What's that?" he asked, with a startled gesture. + +"Seems to be trying to sing, or something," said Barrett, bending over to +listen. The Teller swung his arm heavily over the side of the cot, the +fingers never ceasing their painful twitching, and Gay leaned down and +gently moved the cloths so that the white, scarred lips were free. They +moved steadily; they seemed to be framing the semblance of an old ballad +that Meredith knew; the whisper grew more distinct, and it became a rich +but broken voice, and they heard it singing, like the sound of some far, +halting minstrelsy: + +"Wave willows--murmur waters--golden sunbeams smile, Earthly music--cannot +waken--lovely--Annie Lisle." + +"My God!" cried Tom Meredith. + +The bandaged hand waved jauntily over the Teller's head. "Ah, men," he +said, almost clearly, and tried to lift himself on his arm, "I tell you +it's a grand eleven we have this year! There will be little left of +anything that stands against them. Did you see Jim Romley ride over his +man this afternoon?" + +As the voice grew clearer the sheriff stepped forward, but Tom Meredith, +with a loud exclamation of grief, threw himself on his knees beside the +cot and seized the wandering fingers in his own. "John!" he cried. "John! +Is it _you_?" + +The voice went on rapidly, not heeding him: "Ah, you needn't howl; I'd +have been as much use at right as that Sophomore. Well, laugh away, you +Indians! If it hadn't been for this ankle--but it seems to be my chest +that's hurt--and side--not that it matters, you know; the Sophomore's just +as good, or better. It's only my egotism. Yes, it must be the side--and +chest--and head--all over, I believe. Not that it matters--I'll try again +next year--next year I'll make it a daily, Helen said, not that I should +call you Helen--I mean Miss--Miss--Fisbee--no, Sherwood--but I've always +thought Helen was the prettiest name in the world--you'll forgive me?--And +please tell Parker there's no more copy, and won't be--I wouldn't grind +out another stick to save his immortal--yes, yes, a daily--she said-ah, I +never made a good trade--no--they can't come seven miles--but I'll finish +_you_, Skillett, first; I know _you_! I know nearly all of you! Now let's +sing 'Annie Lisle.'" He lifted his hand as if to beat the time for a +chorus. + +"Oh, John, John!" cried Tom Meredith, and sobbed outright. "My boy--my +boy--old friend----" The cry of the classmate was like that of a mother, +for it was his old idol and hero who lay helpless and broken before him. + + + +The brougham lamps and the apathetic sparks of the cab gleamed in front of +the hospital till daylight. Two other pairs of lamps joined them in the +earliest of the small hours, these subjoined to two deep-hooded phaetons, +from each of which quickly descended a gentleman with a beard, an air of +eminence, and a small, ominous black box. The air of eminence was +justified by the haste with which Meredith had sent for them, and by their +wide repute. They arrived almost simultaneously, and hastily shook hands +as they made their way to the ward down the long hall and up the narrow +corridor. They had a short conversation with Gay and a word with the +nurse, then turned the others out of the room by a practiced innuendo of +manner. They stayed a long time in the room without opening the door. +Meredith paced the hall alone, sometimes stopping to speak to Warren +Smith; but the two officials of peace sat together in dumb consternation +and astonishment. The sleepy young man relaxed himself resignedly upon a +bench in the hall had returned to the dormance from which he had been +roused. The big hospital was very still. Now and then a nurse went through +the hall, carrying something, and sometimes a neat young physician passed +cheerfully along, looking as if he had many patients who were well enough +to testify to his skill, but sick enough to pay for it. Outside, through +the open front doors, the crickets chirped. + +Meredith went out on the steps, and breathed the cool night air. A slender +taint of drugs hung everywhere about the building, and the almost +imperceptible permeation sickened him; it was deadly, he thought, and +imbued with a hideous portent of suffering. That John Harkless, of all +men, should lie stifled with ether, and bandaged and splintered, and +smeared with horrible unguents, while they stabbed and slashed and +tortured him, and made an outrage and a sin of that grand, big, dexterous +body of his! Meredith shuddered. The lights in the little ward were turned +up, and they seemed to shine from a chamber of horrors, while he waited, +as a brother might have waited outside the Inquisition--if, indeed, a +brother would have been allowed to wait outside the Inquisition. + +Alas, he had found John Harkless! He had "lost track" of him as men +sometimes do lose track of their best beloved, but it had always been a +comfort to know that Harkless _was_--somewhere, a comfort without which he +could hardly have got along. Like others he had been waiting for John to +turn up--on top, of course; for people would always believe in him so, +that he would be shoved ahead, no matter how much he hung back himself-- +but Meredith had not expected him to turn up in Indiana. He had heard +vaguely that Harkless was abroad, and he had a general expectation that +people would hear of him over there some day, with papers like the "Times" +beseeching him to go on missions. And he found him here, in his own home, +a stranger, alone and dying, receiving what ministrations were reserved +for Jerry the Teller. But it was Helen Sherwood who had found him. He +wondered how much those two had seen of each other, down there in +Plattville. If they had liked each other, and Harkless could have lived, +he thought it might have simplified some things for Helen. "Poor Helen!" +he exclaimed aloud. Her telegram had a ring, even in the barren four +sentences. He wondered how much they had liked each other. Perhaps she +would wish to come at once. When those fellows came out of the room he +would send her a word by telegraph. + +When they came out--ah! he did not want them to come out; he was afraid. +They were an eternity--why didn't they come? No; he hoped they would not +come, just now. In a little time, in a few minutes, even, he would not +dread a few words so much; but _now_ he couldn't quite bear to be told he +had found his friend only to lose him, the man he had always most needed, +wanted, loved. Everybody had always cared for Harkless, wherever he went. +That _he_ had always cared for everybody was part of the reason, maybe. +Meredith remembered, now, hearing a man who had spent a day in Plattville +on business speak of him: "They've got a young fellow down there who'll be +Governor in a few years. He's a sort of dictator; and runs the party all +over that part of the State to suit his own sweet will, just by sheer +personality. And there isn't a man in that district who wouldn't +cheerfully lie down in the mud to let him pass over dry. It's that young +Harkless, you know; owns the 'Herald,' the paper that downed McCune and +smashed those imitation 'White-Caps' in Carlow County." Meredith had been +momentarily struck by the coincidence of the name, but his notion of +Harkless was so inseparably connected with what was (to his mind) a +handsome and more spacious--certainly more illuminated--field of action, +that the idea that this might be his friend never entered his head. Helen +had said something once--he could not remember what--that made him think +she had half suspected it, and he had laughed. He thought of the whimsical +fate that had taken her to Plattville, of the reason for her going, and +the old thought came to him that the world is, after all, so very small. +He looked up at the twinkling stars; they were reassuring and kind. Under +their benignancy no loss could befall, no fate miscarry--for in his last +thought he felt his vision opened, for the moment, to perceive a fine +tracery of fate. + +"Ah, that would be too beautiful!" he said. + +And then he shivered; for his name was spoken from within. + +It was soon plain to him that he need not have feared a few words, for he +did not in the least understand those with which the eminent surgeons +favored him; and they at once took their departure. He did understand, +however, what Horner told him. Mr. Barrett, Warren Smith, and the sleepy +young man had reentered the ward; and Horner was following, but waited for +Meredith. Somehow, the look of the sheriff's Sunday coat, wrinkling +forlornly from his broad, bent shoulders, was both touching and solemn. He +said simply: "He's conscious and not out of his head. They're gone in to +take his ante-mortem statement," and they went into the room. + +Harkless's eyes were bandaged. The lawyer was speaking to him, and as +Horner went awkwardly toward the cot. Warren said something indicative of +the sheriff's presence, and the hand on the sheet made a formless motion +which Horner understood, for he took the pale fingers in his own, very +gently, and then set them back. Smith turned toward Meredith, but the +latter made a gesture which forbade the attorney to speak of him, and went +to a corner and sat down with his head in his hands. + +The sleepy young man opened a notebook and shook a stylographic pen so +that the ink might flow freely. The lawyer, briefly and with unlegal +agitation, administered an oath, to which Harkless responded feebly, and +then there was silence. + +"Now, Mr. Harkless, if you please," said Barrett, insinuatingly; "if you +feel like telling us as much as you can about it?" + +He answered in a low, rather indistinct voice, very deliberately, pausing +before almost every word. It was easy work for the sleepy stenographer. + +"I understand. I don't want to go off my head again before I finish. Of +course I know why you want this. If it were only for myself I should tell +you nothing, because, if I am to leave, I should like it better if no one +were punished. But that's a bad community over there; they are +everlastingly worrying our people; they have always been a bother to us, +and it's time it was stopped for good. I don't believe very much in +punishment, but you can't do a great deal of reforming with the Cross- +Roaders unless you catch them young--very young, before they're weaned-- +they wean them on whiskey, I think. I realize you needn't have sworn me +for me to tell you this." + +Homer and Smith had started at the mention of the Cross-Roads, but they +subdued their ejaculations, while Mr. Barrett looked as if he had known +it, of course. The room was still, save for the dim voice and the soft +transcribings of the stylographic pen. + +"I left Judge Briscoe's, and went west on the pike to a big tree. It +rained, and I stepped under the tree for shelter. There was a man on the +other side of the fence. It was Bob Skillett. He was carrying his gown and +hood--I suppose it was that--on his arm. Then I saw two others a little +farther east, in the middle of the road; and I think they had followed me +from the Briscoes', or near there. They had their foolish regalia on, as +all the rest had,--there was plenty of lightning to see. The two in the +road were simply standing there in the rain, looking at me through the +eye-holes in their hoods. I knew there were others--plenty--but I thought +they were coming from behind me--the west. + +"I wanted to get home--the court-house yard was good enough for me--so I +started east, toward town. I passed the two gentlemen; and one fell down +as I went by him, but the other fired a shot as a signal, and I got his +hood off his face for it--I stopped long enough--and it was Force Johnson. +I know him well. Then I ran, and they followed. A little ahead of me I saw +six or eight of them spread across the road. I knew I'd have a time +getting through, so I jumped the fence to cut across the fields, and I lit +in a swarm of them--it had rained them just where I jumped. I set my back +to the fence, but one of the fellows in the road leaned over and smashed +my head in, rather--with the butt of a gun, I believe. I came out from the +fence and they made a little circle around me. No one said anything. I saw +they had ropes and saplings, and I didn't want that, exactly, so I went +into them. I got a good many hoods off before it was over, and I can swear +to quite a number besides those I told you." + +He named the men, slowly and carefully. Then he went on: "I think they +gave up the notion of whipping. We all got into a bunch, and they couldn't +clear to shoot without hitting some of their own: and there was a lot of +gouging and kicking--one fellow nearly got my left eye, and I tried to +tear him apart and he screamed so that I think he was hurt. Once or twice +I thought I might get away, but somebody hammered me over the head and +face again, and I got dizzy; and then they all jumped away from me +suddenly, and Bob Skillett stepped up--and--shot me. He waited for a good +flurry of lightning, and I was slow tumbling down. Some one else fired a +shot-gun, I think--I can't be sure--about the same time, from the side. I +tried to get up, but I couldn't, and then they got together, for a +consultation. The man I had hurt--I didn't recognize him--came and looked +at me. He was nursing himself all over; and groaned; and I laughed, I--at +any rate, my arm was lying stretched out on the grass, and he stamped his +heel into my hand, and after a little of that I quit feeling. + +"I'm not quite clear about what happened afterwards. They went away, not +far, I think. There's an old shed, a cattle-shelter, near there, and I +think the storm drove them under it to wait for a slack. It seemed a long +time. Sometimes I was conscious, sometimes I wasn't. I thought I might be +drowned, but I suppose the rain was good for me. Then I remember being in +motion, being dragged and carried a long way. They took me up a steep, +short slope, and set me down near the top. I knew that was the railroad +embankment, and I thought they meant to lay me across the track, but it +didn't occur to them, I suppose--they are not familiar with melodrama--and +a long time after that I felt and heard a great banging and rattling under +me and all about me, and it came to me that they had disposed of me by +hoisting me into an empty freight-car. The odd part of it was that the car +wasn't empty, for there were two men already in it, and I knew them by +what they said to me. + +"They were the two shell-men who cheated Hartley Bowlder, and they weren't +vindictive; they even seemed to be trying to help me a little, though +perhaps they were only stealing my clothes, and maybe they thought for +them to do anything unpleasant would be superfluous; I could see that they +thought I was done for, and that they had been hiding in the car when I +was put there. I asked them to try to call the train men for me, but they +wouldn't listen, or else I couldn't make myself understood. That's all. +The rest is a blur. I haven't known anything more until those surgeons +were here. Please tell me how long ago it happened. I shall not die, I +think; there are a good many things I want to know about." He moved +restlessly and the nurse soothed him. + +Meredith rose and left the room with a noiseless step. He went out to the +stars again, and looked to them to check the storm of rage and sorrow that +buffeted his bosom. He understood lynching, now the thing was home to him, +and his feeling was no inspiration of a fear lest the law miscarry; it was +the itch to get his own hand on the rope. Horner came out presently, and +whispered a long, broad, profound curse upon the men of the Cross-Roads, +and Meredith's gratitude to him was keen. Barrett went away, soon after, +leaving the cab for the gentlemen from Plattville. Meredith had a strange, +unreasonable desire to kick Barrett, possibly for his sergeant's sake. +Warren Smith sat in the ward with the nurse and Gay, and the room was very +quiet. It was a long vigil. + +They were only waiting. + +At five o'clock he was still alive--just that, Smith came out to say. +Meredith sent his driver with a telegram to Helen which would give +Plattville the news that Harkless was found and was not yet gone from +them. Homer took the cab and left for the station; there was a train, and +there were things for him to do in Carlow. At noon Meredith sent a second +telegram to Helen, as barren of detail as the first: he was alive--was a +little improved. This telegram did not reach her, for she was on the way +to Rouen, and half of the population of Carlow--at least, so it appeared +to the unhappy conductor of the accommodation--was with her. + +They seemed to feel that they could camp in the hospital halls and +corridors, and they were an incalculable worry to the authorities. More +came on every train, and nearly all brought flowers, and jelly, and +chickens for preparing broth, and they insisted that the two latter +delicacies be fed to the patient at once. Meredith was possessed by an +unaccountable responsibility for them all, and invited a great many to +stay at his own house. They were still in ignorance of the truth about the +Cross-Roads, and some of them spent the day (it was Sunday) in planning an +assault upon the Rouen jail for the purpose of lynching Slattery in case +Harkless's condition did not improve at once. Those who had heard his +statement kept close mouths until the story appeared in full in the Rouen +papers on Monday morning; but by that time every member of the Cross-Roads +White-Caps was lodged in the Rouen jail with Slattery. Homer and a heavily +armed posse rode over to the muddy corners on Sunday night, and the +sheriff discovered that he might have taken the Skilletts and Johnsons +single-handed and unarmed. Their nerve was gone; they were shaken and +afraid; and, to employ a figure somewhat inappropriate to their sullen, +glad surrender, they fell upon his neck in their relief at finding the law +touching them. They had no wish to hear "John Brown's Body" again. They +wanted to get inside of a strong jail, and to throw themselves on the +mercy of the court as soon as possible. And those whom Harkless had not +recognized delayed not to give themselves up; they did not desire to +remain in Six-Cross-Roads. Bob Skillett, Force Johnson, and one or two +others needed the care of a physician badly, and one man was suffering +from a severely wrenched back. Homer had a train stopped at a crossing, so +that his prisoners need not be taken through Plattville, and he brought +them all safely to Rouen. Had there chanced any one to ride through the +deserted Cross-Roads the next morning, passing the trampled fields and the +charred ruins of the two shanties to the east, and listening to the +lamentations of the women and children, he would have declared that at +last the old score had been paid, and that Six-Cross-Roads was wiped out. + +The Carlow folks were deeply impressed with the two eminent surgeons, of +whom some of them had heard, and on Tuesday, the bulletins marking +considerable encouragement, most of them decided to temporarily risk the +editor of the "Herald" to such capable hands, and they returned quietly to +their homes; only a few were delayed in reaching Carlow by travelling to +the first station in the opposite direction before they succeeded in +planting themselves on the proper train. + +Meanwhile, the object of their solicitude tossed and burned on his bed of +pain. He was delirious most of the time, and, in the intervals of half- +consciousness, found that his desire to live, very strong at first, had +disappeared; he did not care much about anything except rest--he wanted +peace. In his wanderings he was almost always back in his college days, +beholding them in an unhappy, distorted fashion. He would lie asprawl on +the sward with the others, listening to the Seniors singing on the steps, +and, all at once, the old, kindly faces would expand enormously and press +over him with hideous mouthings, and an ugly Senior in cap and gown would +stamp him and grind a spiked heel into his hand; then they would toss him +high into air that was all flames, and he would fall and fall through the +raging heat, seeing the cool earth far beneath him, but never able to get +down to it again. And then he was driven miles and miles by dusky figures, +through a rain of boiling water; and at other times the whole universe was +a vast, hot brass bell, and it gave off a huge, continuous roar and hum, +while he was a mere point of consciousness floating in the exact centre of +the heat and sound waves, and he listened, listened for years, to the +awful, brazen hum from which there could be no escape; at the same time it +seemed to him that he was only a Freshman on the slippery roof of the +tower, trying to steal the clapper of the chapel bell. + +Finally he came to what he would have considered a lucid interval, had it +not appeared that Helen Sherwood was whispering to Tom Meredith at the +foot of his bed. This he knew to be a fictitious presentation of his +fever, for was she not by this time away and away for foreign lands? And, +also, Tom Meredith was a slim young thing, and not the middle-aged youth +with an undeniable stomach and a baldish head, who, by the grotesque +necromancy of his hallucinations, assumed a preposterous likeness to his +old friend. He waved his hand to the figures and they vanished like +figments of a dream; but all the same the vision had been realistic enough +for the lady to look exquisitely pretty. No one could help wishing to stay +in a world which contained as charming a picture as that. + +And then, too quickly, the moment of clearness passed; and he was troubled +about the "Herald," beseeching those near him to put copies of the paper +in his hands, threatening angrily to believe they were deceiving him, that +his paper had suspended, if the three issues of the week were not +instantly produced. What did they mean by keeping the truth from him? He +knew the "Herald" had not come out. Who was there to get it out in his +absence? He raised himself on his elbow and struggled to be up; and they +had hard work to quiet him. + +But the next night Meredith waited near his bedside, haggard and +dishevelled. Harkless had been lying in a long stupor; suddenly he spoke, +quite loudly, and the young surgeon, Gay, who leaned over him, remembered +the words and the tone all his life. + +"Away and away--across the waters," said John Harkless. "She was here-- +once--in June." + +"What is it, John?" whispered Meredith, huskily. "You're easier, aren't +you?" + +And John smiled a little, as if, for an instant, his swathed eyes +penetrated the bandages, and saw and knew his old friend again. + +That same night a friend of Rodney McCune's sent a telegram from Rouen: +"He is dying. His paper is dead. Your name goes before convention in +September." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +JAMES FISBEE + +On Monday morning three men sat in council in the "Herald" office; that +is, if staring out of dingy windows in a demented silence may be called +sitting in council; that was what Mr. Fisbee and Parker and Ross Schofield +were doing. By almost desperate exertions, these three and Bud Tipworthy +had managed to place before the public the issues of the paper for the +previous week, unaided by their chief, or, rather, aided by long accounts +of his condition and the manner of his mishap; and, in truth, three copies +were at that moment in the possession of Dr. Gay, accompanied by a note +from Parker warning the surgeon to exhibit them to his patient only as a +last resort, as the foreman feared the perusal of them might cause a +relapse. + +By indiscriminate turns, acting as editors, reporters, and typesetters-- +and particularly space-writers--the three men had worried out three +issues, and part of the fourth (to appear the next morning) was set up; +but they had come to the end of their string, and there were various +horrid gaps yet to fill in spite of a too generous spreading of +advertisements. Bud Tipworthy had been sent out to besiege Miss Tibbs, all +of whose recent buds of rhyme had been hot-housed into inky blossom during +the week, and after a long absence the youth returned with a somewhat +abrupt quatrain, entitled "The Parisians of Old," which she had produced +while he waited--only four lines, according to the measure they meted, +which was not regardful of art--less than a drop in the bucket, or, to +preserve the figure, a single posy where they needed a bouquet. Bud went +down the rickety outside stairs, and sat on the lowest step, whistling +"Wait till the Clouds Roll by, Jenny"; Ross Schofield descended to set up +the quatrain, and Fisbee and Parker were left to silence and troubled +meditation. + +They were seated on opposite sides of Harkless's desk. Sheets of blank +scratch-paper lay before them, and they relaxed not their knit brows. Now +and then, one of them, after gazing vacantly about the room for ten or +fifteen minutes, would attack the sheet before him with fiercest energy; +then the energy would taper off, and the paragraph halt, the writer peruse +it dubiously, then angrily tear off the sheet and hurl it to the floor. +All around them lay these snowballs of defeated journalism. + +Mr. Parker was a long, loose, gaunt gentleman, with a peremptory forehead +and a capable jaw, but on the present occasion his capability was baffled +and swamped in the attempt to steer the craft of his talent up an +unaccustomed channel without a pilot. "I don't see as it's any use, +Fisbee," he said, morosely, after a series of efforts that littered the +floor in every direction. "I'm a born compositor, and I can't shift my +trade. I stood the pace fairly for a week, but I'll have to give up; I'm +run plumb dry. I only hope they won't show him our Saturday with your +three columns of 'A Word of the Lotus Motive,' reprinted from February. +I begin to sympathize with the boss, because I know what he felt when I +ballyragged him for copy. Yes, sir, I know how it is to be an editor in a +dead town now." + +"We must remember, too," said his companion, thoughtfully, "there is the +Thursday issue of this week to be prepared, almost at once." + +"_Don't_! Please don't mention that, Fisbee!" Parker tilted far back in +his chair with his feet anchored under the desk, preserving a precarious +balance. "I ain't as grateful for my promotion to joint Editor-in-Chief as +I might be. I'm a middling poor man for the hour, I guess," he remarked, +painfully following the peregrinations of a fly on his companion's sleeve. + +Mr. Fisbee twisted up another sheet, and employed his eyes in following +the course of a crack in the plaster, a slender black aperture which +staggered across the dusty ceiling and down the dustier wall to disappear +behind a still dustier map of Carlow County. "That's the trouble!" +exclaimed Parker, observing the other's preoccupation. "Soon as you get to +writing a line or two that seems kind of promising, you begin to take a +morbid interest in that blamed crack. It's busted up enough copy for me, +the last eight days, to have filled her up twenty times over. I don't know +as I ever care to see that crack again. I turned my back on it, but there +wasn't any use in that, because if a fly lights on you I watch him like a +brother, and if there ain't any fly I've caught a mania for tapping my +teeth with a pencil, that is just as good." + +To these two gentlemen, thus disengaged, reentered (after a much longer +absence than Miss Selina's quatrain justified) Mr. Ross Schofield, a +healthy glow of exertion lending pleasant color to his earnest visage, and +an almost visible laurel of success crowning his brows. In addition to +this imaginary ornament, he was horned with pencils over both ears, and +held some scribbled sheets in his hand. + +"I done a good deal down there," he announced cheerfully, drawing up a +chair to the desk. "I thought up a heap of things I've heard lately, and +they'll fill up mighty well. That there poem of Miss Seliny's was a kind +of an inspiration to me, and I tried one myself, and it didn't come hard +at all. When I got started once, it jest seemed to flow from me. I didn't +set none of it up," he added modestly, but with evident consciousness of +having unearthed genius in himself and an elate foreknowledge of the treat +in store for his companions. "I thought I'd ort to see how you liked it +first." He offered the papers to Mr. Parker, but the foreman shook his +head. + +"You read it, Ross," I said. "I don't believe I feel hearty enough to-day. +Read the items first--we can bear the waiting." + +"What waiting?" inquired Mr. Schofield. + +"For the poem," replied Parker, grimly. + +With a vague but not fleeting smile, Ross settled the sheets in order, and +exhibited tokens of that pleasant nevousness incident to appearing before +a critical audience, armed with literature whose merits should delight +them out of the critical attitude. "I run across a great scheme down +there," he volunteered amiably, by way of preface; "I described everything +in full, in as many words as I could think up; it's mighty filling, and +it'll please the public, too; it gives 'em a lot more information than +they us'ally git. I reckon there's two sticks of jest them extry words +alone." + +"Go on," said the foreman, rather ominously. + +Ross began to read, a matter necessitating a puckered brow and at times an +amount of hesitancy and ruminating, as his results had already cooled a +little, and he found his hand difficult to decipher. "Here's the first," +he said: + +"'The large and handsome, fawn-colored, two years and one-half year old +Jersey of Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire----'" + +The foreman interrupted him: "Every reader of the 'Herald' will be glad to +know that Jersey's age and color! But go on." + +"'--Frederick Bibshaw Jones, Esquire,'" pursued his assistant, with some +discomfiture, "'--Esquire, our popular and well-dressed fellow-citizen---- +'" + +"You're right; Bib Jones is a heavy swell," said Parker in a breaking +voice. + +"'--Citizen, can be daily seen wandering from the far end of his pasture- +lot to the other far end of it.'" + +"'His!'" exclaimed Parker. "'_His_ pasture-lot?' The Jersey's?" + +"No," returned the other, meekly, "Bib Jones's." + +"Oh," said Parker. "Is that the end of that item? It is! You want to get +out of Plattville, my friend; it's too small for you; you go to Rouen and +you'll be city editor of the 'Journal' inside of a week. Let's have +another." + +Mr. Schofield looked up blankly; however, he felt that there was enough +live, legitimate news in his other items to redeem the somewhat tame +quality of the first, and so, after having crossed out several of the +extra words which had met so poor a reception, he proceeded: + +"'Whit Upton's pigs broke out last Wednesday and rooted up a fine patch of +garden truck. Hard luck, Whit.' + +"'Jerusalem Hawkins took a drive yesterday afternoon. He had the bay to +his side-bar. Jee's buggy has been recently washed. Congratulations, +Jee.'" + +"There's thrilling information!" shouted the foreman. "That'll touch the +gentle reader to the marrow. The boss had to use some pretty rotten copy +himself, but he never got as low as that. But we'll use it; oh, we'll use +it! If we don't get her out he'll have a set-back, but if they show her to +him it'll kill him. If it doesn't, and he gets well, he'll kill us. But +we'll use it, Ross. Don't read any more to us, though; I feel weaker than +I did, and I wasn't strong before. Go down and set it all up." + +Mr. Schofield rejoined with an injured air, and yet hopefully: "I'd like +to see what you think of the poetry--it seemed all right to me, but I +reckon you ain't ever the best judge of your own work. Shall I read it?" +The foreman only glanced at him in silence, and the young man took this +for assent. "I haven't made up any name for it yet." + + "'O, the orphan boy stood on the hill, + The wind blew cold and very chill--'" + +Glancing at his auditors, he was a trifle abashed to observe a glaze upon +the eyes of Mr. Parker, while a purple tide rose above his neck-band and +unnaturally distended his throat and temples. With a placative little +laugh, Mr. Schofield remarked: "I git the swing to her all right, I +reckon, but somehow it doesn't sound so kind of good as when I was writing +it." There was no response, and he went on hurriedly: + + "'But there he saw the little rill--'" + +The poet paused to say, with another amiable laugh: "It's sort of hard to +git out of them ill, hill, chill rhymes once you strike 'em. It runs on +like this: + + "'--Little rill + That curved and spattered around the hill.' + +"I guess that's all right, to use 'hill' twice; don't you reckon so? + + "'And the orphan he stood there until + The wind and all gave him a chill; + And he sickened--'" + +That day Ross read no more, for the tall printer, seemingly incapable of +coherent speech, kicked the desk impotently, threw his arms above his +head, and, his companions confidently looking to see him foam at the +mouth, lost his balance and toppled over backward, his extensive legs +waving wildly in the air as he struck the floor. Mr. Schofield fled. + +Parker made no effort to rise, but lay glaring at the ceiling, breathing +hard. He remained in that position for a long time, until finally the +glaze wore away from his eyes and a more rational expression settled over +his features. Mr. Fisbee addressed him timidly: "You don't think we could +reduce the size of the sheet?" + +"It would kill him," answered his prostrate companion. "We've got to fill +her solid some way, though I give up; I don't know how. How that man has +worked! It was genius. He just floated around the county and soaked in +items, and he wrote editorials that people read. One thing's certain: we +can't do it. We're ruining his paper for him, and when he gets able to +read, it'll hurt him bad. Mighty few knew how much pride he had in it. Has +it struck you that now would be a precious good time for it to occur to +Rod McCune to come out of his hole? Suppose we go by the board, what's to +stop him? What's to stop him, anyway? Who knows where the boss put those +copies and affidavits, and if we did know, would we know the best way to +use 'em? If we did, what's to keep the 'Herald' alive until McCune lifts +his head? And if we don't stop him, the 'Carlow County Herald' is +finished. Something's got to be done!'" + +No one realized this more poignantly than Mr. Fisbee, but no one was less +capable of doing something of his own initiation. And although the Tuesday +issue was forthcoming, embarrassingly pale in spots--most spots--Mr. +Martin remarked rather publicly that the items were not what you might +call stirring, and that the unpatented pages put him in mind of Jones's +field in winter with a dozen chunks of coal dropped in the snow. And his +observations on the later issues of the week (issues which were put forth +with a suggestion of spasm, and possibly to the permanent injury of Mr. +Parker's health, he looked so thin) were too cruelly unkind to be repeated +here. Indeed, Mr. Fisbee, Parker, the luckless Mr. Schofield, and the +young Tipworthy may be not untruthfully likened to a band of devoted +mariners lost in the cold and glaring regions of a journalistic Greenland: +limitless plains of empty white paper extending about them as far as the +eye could reach, while life depended upon their making these terrible +voids productive; and they shrank appalled from the task, knowing no means +to fertilize the barrens; having no talent to bring the still snows into +harvests, and already feeling-in the chill of Mr. Martin's remarks--a +touch of the frost that might wither them. + +It was Fisbee who caught the first glimpse of a relief expedition clipping +the rough seas on its lively way to rescue them, and, although his first +glimpse of the jaunty pennant of the relieving vessels was over the +shoulder of an iceberg, nothing was surer than that the craft was flying +to them with all good and joyous speed. The iceberg just mentioned +assumed--by no melting process, one may be sure--the form of a long +letter, first postmarked at Rouen, and its latter substance was as +follows: + + +"Henry and I have always believed you as selfish, James Fisbee, as you are +self-ingrossed and incapable. She has told us of your 'renunciation'; of +your 'forbidding' her to remain with you; how you 'commanded,' after you +had 'begged' her, to return to us, and how her conscience told her she +should stay and share your life in spite of our long care of her, but that +she yielded to your 'wishes' and our entreaty. What have you ever done for +her and what have you to offer her? She is our daughter, and needless to +say we shall still take care of her, for no one believes you capable of +it, even in that miserable place, and, of course, in time she will return +to her better wisdom, her home, and her duty. I need scarcely say we have +given up the happy months we had planned to spend in Dresden. Henry and I +can only stay at home to pray that her preposterous mania will wear itself +out in short order, as she will find herself unfitted for the ridiculous +task which she insists upon attempting against the earnest wishes of us +who have been more than father and mother to her. Of course, she has +talked volumes of her affection for us, and of her gratitude, which we do +not want--we only want her to stay with us. Please, please try to make her +come back to us--we cannot bear it long. If you are a man you will send +her to us soon. Her excuse for not returning on the day we wired our +intention to go abroad at once (and I may as well tell you now that our +intention to go was formed in order to bring affairs to a crisis and to +draw her away from your influence--we always dreaded her visit to you and +held it off for years)--her excuse was that your best friend, and, as I +understand it, your patron, had been injured in some brawl in that +Christian country of yours--a charming place to take a girl like her--and +she would not leave you in your 'distress' until more was known of the +man's injuries. And now she insists--and you will know it from her by the +next mail--on returning to Plattville, forsooth, because she has been +reading your newspaper, and she says she knows you are in difficulties +over it, and it is her moral obligation--as by some wild reasoning of her +own she considers herself responsible for your ruffling patron's having +been alone when he was shot--to go down and help. I suppose he made love +to her, as all the young men she meets always do, sooner or later, but I +have no fear of any rustic entanglements tor her; she has never been +really interested, save in one affair. We are quite powerless--we have +done everything; but we cannot alter her determination to edit your paper +for you. Naturally, she knows nothing whatever about such work, but she +says, with the air of triumphantly quelching all such argument, that she +has talked a great deal to Mr. Macauley of the 'Journal.' Mr. Macauley is +the affair I have alluded to; he is what she has meant when she has said, +at different times, that she was interested in journalism. But she is very +business-like now. She has bought a typewriter and purchased a great +number of soft pencils and erasers at an art shop; I am only surprised +that she does not intend to edit your miserable paper in water-colors. She +is coming at once. For mercy's sake don't telegraph her not to; your +forbiddings work the wrong way. Our only hope is that she will find the +conditions so utterly discouraging at the very start that she will give it +up and come home. If you are a man you will help to make them so. She has +promised to stay with that country girl with whom she contracted such an +incomprehensible friendship at Miss Jennings's. + +"Oh, James, pray for grace to be a man once in your life and send her back +to us! Be a man--try to be a man! Remember the angel you killed! Remember +all we have done for you and what a return you have made, and be a man for +the first time. Try and be a man! + + "Your unhappy sister-in-law, + + "MARTHA SHERWOOD." + + +Mr. Fisbee read the letter with a great, rising delight which no sense of +duty could down; indeed, he perceived that his sense of duty had ceased to +conflict with the one strong hope of his life, just as he perceived that +to be a man, according to Martha Sherwood, was, in part, to assist Martha +Sherwood to have her way in things; and, for the rest, to be the sort of +man she persuaded herself she would be were she not a woman. This he had +never been able to be. + +By some whimsy of fate, or by a failure of Karma (or, perhaps, by some +triumph of Kismetic retribution), James Fisbee was born in one of the most +business-like and artless cities of a practical and modern country, of +money-getting, money-saving parents, and he was born a dreamer of the +past. He grew up a student of basilican lore, of choir-screens, of Persian +frescoes, and an ardent lounger in the somewhat musty precincts of Chaldea +and Byzantium and Babylon. Early Christian Symbolism, a dispute over the +site of a Greek temple, the derivation of the lotus column, the +restoration of a Gothic buttress--these were the absorbing questions of +his youth, with now and then a lighter moment spent in analytical +consideration of the extra-mural decorations of St. Mark's. The world +buzzed along after its own fashion, not disturbing him, and his +absorptions permitted only a faint consciousness of the despair of his +relatives regarding his mind. Arrived at middle-age, and a little more, he +found himself alone in the world (though, for that matter, he had always +been alone and never of the world), and there was plenty of money for him +with various bankers who appeared to know about looking after it. +Returning to the town of his nativity after sundry expeditions in Syria-- +upon which he had been accompanied by dusky gentlemen with pickaxes and +curly, long-barrelled muskets--he met, and was married by, a lady who was +ambitious, and who saw in him (probably as a fulfilment of another +Kismetic punishment) a power of learning and a destined success. Not long +after the birth of their only child, a daughter, he was "called to fill +the chair" of archaeology in a newly founded university; one of the kind +which a State and a millionaire combine to purchase ready-made. This one +was handed down off the shelf in a more or less chaotic condition, and for +a period of years betrayed considerable doubt as to its own intentions, +undecided whether they were classical or technical; and in the settlement +of that doubt lay the secret of the past of the one man in Plattville so +unhappy as to possess a past. From that settlement and his own preceding +action resulted his downfall, his disgrace with his wife's relatives, the +loss of his wife, the rage, surprise, and anguish of her sister, Martha, +and Martha's husband, Henry Sherwood, and the separation from his little +daughter, which was by far to him the hardest to bear. For Fisbee, in his +own way, and without consulting anybody--it never occurred to him, and he +was supposed often to forget that he had a wife and child--had informally +turned over to the university all the money which the banks had kindly +taken care of, and had given it to equip an expedition which never +expedited. A new president of the institution was installed; he talked to +the trustees; they met, and elected to become modern and practical and +technical; they abolished the course in fine arts, which abolished +Fisbee's connection with them, and they then employed his money to erect a +building for the mechanical engineering department. Fisbee was left with +nothing. His wife and her kinsfolk exhibited no brilliancy in holding a +totally irresponsible man down to responsibilities, and they made a +tragedy of a not surprising fiasco. Mrs. Fisbee had lived in her +ambitions, and she died of heartbreak over the discovery of what manner of +man she had married. But, before she died, she wisely provided for her +daughter. + +Fisbee told Parker the story after his own queer fashion. + +"You see, Mr. Parker," he said, as they sat together in the dust and +litter of the "Herald" office, on Sunday afternoon, "you see, I admit that +my sister-in-law has always withheld her approbation from me, and possibly +her disapproval is well founded--I shall say probably. My wife had also a +considerable sum, and this she turned over to me at the time of our +marriage, though I had no wish regarding it one way or the other. When I +gave my money to the university with which I had the honor to be +connected, I added to it the fund I had received from her, as I was the +recipient of a comfortable salary as a lecturer in the institution and had +no fear of not living well, and I was greatly interested in providing that +the expedition should be perfectly equipped. Expeditions of the magnitude +of that which I had planned are expensive, I should, perhaps, inform you, +and this one was to carry on investigations regarding several important +points, very elaborately; and I am still convinced it would have settled +conclusively many vital questions concerning the derivation of the +Babylonian column, as: whether the lotus column may be without prejudice +said to--but at the present moment I will not enter into that. I fear I +had no great experience in money matters, for the transaction had been +almost entirely verbal, and there was nothing to bind the trustees to +carry out my plans for the expedition. They were very sympathetic, but +what could they do? they begged leave to inquire. Such an institution +cannot give back money once donated, and it was clearly out of character +for a school of technology and engineering to send savants to investigate +the lotus column." + +"I see," Mr. Parker observed, genially. He listened with the most +ingratiating attention, knowing that he had a rich sensation to set before +Plattville as a dish before a king, for Fisbee's was no confidential +communication. The old man might have told a part of his history long ago, +but it had never occurred to him to talk about his affairs--things had a +habit of not occurring to Fisbee--and the efforts of the gossips to draw +him out always passed over his serene and absent head. + +"It was a blow to my wife," the old man continued, sadly, "and I cannot +deny that her reproaches were as vehement as her disappointment was +sincere." He hurried over this portion of his narrative with a vaguely +troubled look, but the intelligent Parker read poor Mrs. Fisbee's state of +mind between the sentences. "She never seemed to regard me in the same +light again," the archaeologist went on. "She did not conceal from me that +she was surprised and that she could not look upon me as a practical man; +indeed, I may say, she appeared to regard me with marked antipathy. She +sent for her sister, and begged her to take our daughter and keep her from +me, as she did not consider me practical enough-I will substitute for her +more embittered expressions--to provide for a child and instruct it in the +world's ways. My sister-in-law, who was childless, consented to adopt the +little one, on the conditions that I renounced all claim, and that the +child legally assumed her name and should be in all respects as her own +daughter, and that I consented to see her but once a year, in Rouen, at my +brother-in-law's home. + +"I should have refused, but I--my wife--that is--she was--very pressing-- +in her last hours, and they all seemed to feel that I ought to make +amends--all except the little girl herself, I should say, for she +possessed, even as an infant, an exceptional affection for her father. I +had nothing; my salary was gone, and I was discomfited by the combined +actions of the trustees and my relatives, so--I--I gave her up to them, +and my wife passed away in a more cheerful frame of mind, I think. That is +about all. One of the instructors obtained the position here for me, which +I--I finally--lost, and I went to See the little girl every New Year's +day. This year she declared her intention of visiting _me_, but she was +persuaded by friends who were conversant with the circumstances to stay +with them, where I could be with her almost as much as at my apartment at +Mr. Tibbs's. She had long since declared her intention of some day +returning to live with me, and when she came she was strenuous in +insisting that the day had come." The old man's voice broke suddenly as he +observed: "She has--a very--beautiful--character, Mr. Parker." + +The foreman nodded with warm confirmation. "I believe you, sir. Yes, sir; +I saw her, and I guess she looks it. You take that kind of a lady usually, +and catch her in a crowd like the one show-day, and she can't help doing +the Grand Duchess, giving the tenants a treat--but not her; she didn't +seem to _separate_ herself from 'em, some way." + +"She is a fine lady," said the other simply. "I did not accept her +renunciation, though I acknowledge I forbade it with a very poignant envy. +I could not be the cause of her giving up for my sake her state of ease +and luxury--for my relatives are more than well-to-do, and they made it +plain she must choose between them and me, with the design, I think, of +making it more difficult to choose me. And, also, it seemed to me, as it +did to her, that she owed them nearly everything, but she declared I had +lived alone so long that she owed me everything, also. She is a-- +beautiful--character, Mr. Parker." + +"Well," said Parker, after a pause, "the town will be upside down over +this; and folks will be mighty glad to have it explained about your being +out there so much, and at the deepo, and all this and that. Everybody in +the place has been wondering what in--that is--" he finished in some +confusion--"that is--what I started to say was that it won't be so bad as +it might be, having a lady in the office here. I don't cuss to speak of, +and Ross can lay off on his till the boss comes back. Besides, it's our +only chance. If she can't make the 'Herald' hum, we go to the wall." + +The old man did not seem to hear him. "I forbade the renunciation she +wished to make for my sake," he said, gently, "but I accept it now for the +sake of our stricken friend--for Mr. Harkless." + +"And for the Carlow 'Herald,'" completed the foreman. + +The morning following that upon which this conversation took place, the +two gentlemen stood together on the station platform, awaiting the arrival +of the express from Rouen. It was a wet gray day; the wide country lay +dripping under formless wraps of thin mist, and a warm, drizzling rain +blackened the weather-beaten shingles of the station; made clear- +reflecting puddles of the unevenly worn planks of the platform, and +dampened the packing-cases that never went anywhere too thoroughly for +occupation by the station-lounger, and ran in a little crystal stream off +Fisbee's brown cotton umbrella and down Mr. Parker's back. The 'bus +driver, Mr. Bennett, the proprietor of two attendant "cut-unders," and +three or four other worthies whom business, or the lack of it, called to +that locality, availed themselves of the shelter of the waiting-room, but +the gentlemen of the "Herald" were too agitated to be confined, save by +the limits of the horizon. They had reached the station half an hour +before train time, and consumed the interval in pacing the platform under +the cotton umbrella, addressing each other only in monosyllables. Those in +the waiting-room gossiped eagerly, and for the thousandth time, about the +late events, and the tremendous news concerning Fisbee. Judd Bennett +looked out through the rainy doorway at the latter with reverence and a +fine pride of townsmanship, declaring it to be his belief that Fisbee and +Parker were waiting for her at the present moment. It was a lady, and a +bird of a lady, too, else why should Cale Parker be wearing a coat, and be +otherwise dooded and fixed up beyond any wedding? Judd and his friends +were somewhat excited over Parker. + +Fisbee was clad in his best shabby black, which lent an air of state to +the occasion, but Mr. Parker--Caleb Parker, whose heart, during his five +years of residence in Plattville, had been steel-proof against all the +feminine blandishments of the town, whose long, lank face had shown +beneath as long, and lanker, locks of proverbially uncombed hair, he who +had for weeks conspicuously affected a single, string-patched suspender, +who never, even upon the Sabbath day, wore a collar or blacked his shoes-- +what aesthetic leaven had entered his soul that he donned not a coat alone +but also a waistcoat with checks?--and, more than _that_, a gleaming +celluloid collar?--and, more than that, a brilliant blue tie? What had +this iron youth to do with a rising excitement at train time and brilliant +blue ties? + +Also, it might have been inquired if this parade of fashion had no +connection with the simultaneous action of Mr. Ross Schofield; for Ross +was at this hour engaged in decorating the battered chairs in the "Herald" +editorial room with blue satin ribbon, the purchase of which at the Dry +Goods Emporium had been directed by a sudden inspiration of his superior +of the composing force. It was Ross's intention to garnish each chair with +an elaborately tied bow, but, as he was no sailor and understood only the +intricacies of a hard-knot, he confined himself to that species of +ornamentation, leaving, however, very long ends of ribbon hanging down +after the manner of the pendants of rosettes. + +It scarcely needs the statement that his labors were in honor of the new +editor-in-chief of the Carlow "Herald." The advent and the purposes of +this personage were, as yet, known certainly to only those of the "Herald" +and to the Briscoes. It had been arranged, however, that Minnie and her +father were not to come to the station, for the journalistic crisis was +immoderately pressing; the "Herald" was to appear on the morrow, and the +new editor wished to plunge directly, and without the briefest +distraction, into the paper's difficulties, now accumulated into a +veritable sea of troubles. The editor was to be delivered to the Briscoes +at eventide and returned by them again at dewy morn; and this was to be +the daily programme. It had been further--and most earnestly--stipulated +that when the wounded proprietor of the ailing journal should be informed +of the addition to his forces, he was not to know, or to have the +slenderest hint of, the sex or identity of the person in charge during his +absence. It was inevitable that Plattville (already gaping to the +uttermost) would buzz voluminously over it before night, but Judge Briscoe +volunteered to prevent the buzz from reaching Rouen. He undertook to +interview whatever citizens should visit Harkless, or write to him--when +his illness permitted visits and letters--and forewarn them of the +incumbent's desires. To-day, the judge stayed at home with his daughter, +who trilled about the house for happiness, and, in their place, the +"Herald" deputation of two had repaired to the station to act as a +reception committee. + +Far away the whistle of the express was heard, muffled to sweetness in the +damp, and the drivers, whip in hand, came out upon the platform, and the +loafers issued, also, to stand under the eaves and lean their backs +against the drier boards, preparing to eye the travellers with languid +raillery. + +Mr. Parker, very nervous himself, felt the old man's elbow trembling +against his own as the great engine, reeking in the mist, and sending +great clouds of white vapor up to the sky, rushed by them, and came to a +standstill beyond the platform. + +Fisbee and the foreman made haste to the nearest vestibule, and were +gazing blankly at its barred approaches when they heard a tremulous laugh +behind them and an exclamation. + +"Upstairs and downstairs and in my lady's chamber! Just behind you, dear." + +Turning quickly, Parker beheld a blushing and smiling little vision, a +vision with light-brown hair, a vision enveloped in a light-brown rain- +cloak and with brown gloves, from which the handles of a big brown +travelling bag were let fall, as the vision disappeared under the cotton +umbrella, while the smitten Judd Bennett reeled gasping against the +station. + +"Dearest," the girl cried to the old man, "you were looking for me between +the devil and deep sea--the parlor-car and the smoker. I've given up +cigars, and I've begun to study economy, so I didn't come on either." + +There was but this one passenger for Plattville; two enormous trunks +thundered out of the baggage car onto the truck, and it was the work of no +more than a minute for Judd to hale them to the top of the omnibus (he +well wished to wear them next his heart, but their dimensions forbade the +thought), and immediately he cracked his whip and drove off furiously +through the mud to deposit his freight at the Briscoes'. Parker, Mr. +Fisbee, and the new editor-in-chief set forth, directly after, in one of +the waiting cut-unders, the foreman in front with the driver, and holding +the big brown bag on his knees in much the same manner he would have held +an alien, yet respected, infant. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +A RESCUE + +The drizzle and mist blew in under the top of the cut-under as they drove +rapidly into town, and bright little drops sparkled on the fair hair above +the new editor's forehead and on the long lashes above the new editor's +cheeks. + +She shook these transient gems off lightly, as she paused in the doorway +of the office at the top of the rickety stairway. Mr. Schofield had just +added the last touch to his decorations and managed to slide into his coat +as the party came up the stairs, and now, perspiring, proud, embarrassed, +he assumed an attitude at once deprecatory of his endeavors and pointedly +expectant of commendation for the results. (He was a modest youth and a +conscious; after his first sight of her, as she stood in the doorway, it +was several days before he could lift his distressed eyes under her +glance, or, indeed, dare to avail himself of more than a hasty and +fluttering stare at her when her back was turned.) As she entered the +room, he sidled along the wall and laughed sheepishly at nothing. + +Every chair in the room was ornamented with one of his blue rosettes, +tied carefully (and firmly) to the middle slat of each chair-back. There +had been several yards of ribbon left over, and there was a hard knot of +glossy satin on each of the ink-stands and on the door-knobs; a blue band, +passing around the stovepipe, imparted an antique rakishness suggestive of +the charioteer; and a number of streamers, suspended from a hook in the +ceiling, encouraged a supposition that the employees of the "Herald" +contemplated the intricate festivities of May Day. It needed no genius to +infer that these garnitures had not embellished the editorial chamber +during Mr. Harkless's activity, but, on the contrary, had been put in +place that very morning. Mr. Fisbee had not known of the decorations, and, +as his glance fell upon them, a faint look of pain passed over his brow; +but the girl examined the room with a dancing eye, and there were both +tears and laughter in her heart. + +"How beautiful!" she cried. "How beautiful!" She crossed the room and gave +her hand to Ross. "It is Mr. Schofield, isn't it? The ribbons are +delightful. I didn't know Mr. Harkless's room was so pretty." + +Ross looked out of the window and laughed as he took her hand (which he +shook with a long up and down motion), but he was set at better ease by +her apparent unrecognition of the fact that the decorations were for her. +"Oh, it ain't much, I reckon," he replied, and continued to look out of +the window and laugh. + +She went to the desk and removed her gloves and laid her rain-coat over a +chair near by. "Is this Mr. Harkless's chair?" she asked, and, Fisbee +answering that it was, she looked gravely at it for a moment, passed her +hand gently over the back of it, and then, throwing the rain-cloak over +another chair, said cheerily: + +"Do you know, I think the first thing for us to do will be to dust +everything very carefully." + +"You remember I was confident she would know precisely where to begin?" +was Fisbee's earnest whisper in the willing ear of the long foreman. "Not +an instant's indecision, was there?" + +"No, siree!" replied the other; and, as he went down to the press-room to +hunt for a feather-duster which he thought might be found there, he +collared Bud Tipworthy, who, not admitted to the conclave of his +superiors, was whistling on the rainy stairway. "You hustle and find that +dust brush we used to have. Bud," said Parker. And presently, as they +rummaged in the nooks and crannies about the machinery, he melted to his +small assistant. "The paper is saved, Buddie--saved by an angel in light +brown. You can tell it by the look of her." + +"Gee!" said Bud. + +Mr. Schofield had come, blushing, to join them. "Say, Cale, did you notice +the color of her eyes?" + +"Yes; they're gray." + +"I thought so, too, show day, and at Kedge Halloway's lecture; but, say, +Cale, they're kind of changeable. When she come in upstairs with you and +Fisbee, they were jest as blue!--near matched the color of our ribbons." + +"Gee!" repeated Mr. Tipworthy. + +When the editorial chamber had been made so Beat that it almost glowed-- +though it could never be expected to shine as did Fisbee and Caleb Parker +and Ross Schofield that morning--the editor took her seat at the desk and +looked over the few items the gentlemen had already compiled for her +perusal. Mr. Parker explained many technicalities peculiar to the Carlow +"Herald," translated some phrases of the printing-room, and enabled her to +grasp the amount of matter needed to fill the morrow's issue. + +When Parker finished, the three incompetents sat watching the little +figure with the expression of hopeful and trusting terriers. She knit her +brow for a second--but she did not betray an instant's indecision. + +"I think we should have regular market reports," she announced, +thoughtfully. "I am sure Mr. Harkless would approve. Don't you think he +would?" She turned to Parker. + +"Market reports!" Mr. Fisbee exclaimed. "I should never have thought of +market reports, nor, do I imagine, would either of my--my associates. A +woman to conceive the idea of market reports!" + +The editor blushed. "Why, who would, dear, if not a woman, or a +speculator, and I'm not a speculator; and neither are you, and that's the +reason you didn't think of them. So, Mr. Parker, as there is so much +pressure, and if you don't mind continuing to act as reporter as well as +compositor until after to-morrow, and if it isn't too wet--you must take +an umbrella--would it be too much bother if you went around to all the +shops--_stores_, I mean--to all the grocers', and the butchers', and that +leather place we passed, the tannery?--and if there's one of those places +where they bring cows, would it be too much to ask you to stop there?--and +at the flour-mill, if it isn't too far?--and at the dry-goods store? And +you must take a blank-book and sharpened pencil, And will you price +everything, please, and jot down how much things are?" + +Orders received, the impetuous Parker was departing on the instant, when +she stopped him with a little cry: "But you haven't any umbrella!" And she +forced her own, a slender wand, upon him; it bore a cunningly wrought +handle and its fabric was of glistening silk. The foreman, unable to +decline it, thanked her awkwardly, and, as she turned to speak to Fisbee, +bolted out of the door and ran down the steps without unfolding the +umbrella; and as he made for Mr. Martin's emporium, he buttoned it +securely under his long "Prince Albert," determined that not a drop of +water should touch and ruin so delicate a thing. Thus he carried it, +triumphantly dry, through the course of his reportings of that day. + +When he had gone the editor laid her hand on Fisbee's arm. "Dear," she +said, "do you think you would take cold if you went over to the hotel and +made a note of all the arrivals for the last week--and the departures, +too? I noticed that Mr. Harkless always filled two or three--sticks, isn't +it?--with them and things about them, and somehow it 'read' very nicely. +You must ask the landlord all about them; and, if there aren't any, we can +take up the same amount of space lamenting the dull times, just as he used +to. You see I've read the 'Herald' faithfully; isn't it a good thing I +always subscribed for it?" She patted Fisbee's cheek, and laughed gaily +into his mild, vague old eyes. + +"It won't be this scramble to 'fill up' much longer. I have plans, +gentlemen," she cried, "and before long we will print news. And we must +buy 'plate matter' instead of 'patent insides'; and I had a talk with the +Associated Press people in Rouen--but that's for afterwhile. And I went to +the hospital this morning before I left. They wouldn't let me see him +again, but they told me all about him, and he's better; and I got Tom to +go to the jail--he was so mystified, he doesn't know what I wanted it for +--and he saw some of those beasts, and I can do a column of description +besides an editorial about them, and I will be fierce enough to suit +Carlow, you may believe that. And I've been talking to Senator Burns--that +is, listening to Senator Burns, which is much stupider--and I think I can +do an article on national politics. I'm not very well up on local issues +yet, but I--" She broke off suddenly. "There! I think we can get out +to-morrow's number without any trouble. By the time you get back from the +hotel, father, I'll have half my stuff written--'written up,' I mean. Take +your big umbrella and go, dear, and please ask at the express office if my +typewriter has come." + +She laughed again with sheer delight, like a child, and ran to the corner +and got the cotton umbrella and placed it in the old man's hand. As he +reached the door, she called after him: "Wait!" and went to him and knelt +before him, and, with the humblest, proudest grace in the world, turned up +his trousers to keep them from the mud. Ross Schofield had never +considered Mr. Fisbee a particularly sacred sort of person, but he did +from that moment. The old man made some timid protest, at his daughter's +action, But she answered; "The great ladies used to buckle the Chevalier +Bayard's spurs for him, and you're a great deal nicer than the Chev---- +_You haven't any rubbers_! I don't believe _any_ of you have any rubbers!" +And not until both Fisbee and Mr. Schofield had promised to purchase +overshoes at once, and in the meantime not to step in any puddles, would +she let her father depart upon his errand. He crossed the Square with the +strangest, jauntiest step ever seen in Plattville. Solomon Tibbs had a +warm argument with Miss Selina as to his identity. Miss Selina maintaining +that the figure under the big umbrella--only the legs and coat-tails were +visible to them--was that of a stranger, probably an Englishman. + +In the "Herald" office the editor turned, smiling, to the paper's +remaining vassal. "Mr. Schofield, I heard some talk in Rouen of an oil +company that had been formed to prospect for kerosene in Carlow County. Do +you know anything about it?" + +Ross, surfeited with honor, terror, and possessed by a sweet distress at +finding himself tete-a-tete with the lady, looked at the wall and replied: + +"Oh, it's that Eph Watts's foolishness." + +"Do you know if they have begun to dig for it yet?" + +"Ma'am?" said Ross. + +"Have they begun the diggings yet?" + +"No, ma'am; I think not. They've got a contrapshun fixed up about three +mile south. I don't reckon they've begun yet, hardly; they're gittin' the +machinery in place. I heard Eph say they'd begin to bore--_dig_, I mean, +ma'am, I meant to say dig----" He stopped, utterly confused and unhappy; +and she understood his manly purpose, and knew him for a gentleman whom +she liked. + +"You mustn't be too much surprised," she said; "but in spite of my +ignorance about such things, I mean to devote a good deal of space to the +oil company; it may come to be of great importance to Carlow. We won't go +into it in to-morrow's paper, beyond an item or so; but do you think you +could possibly find Mr. Watts and ask him for some information as to their +progress, and if it would be too much trouble for him to call here some +time to-morrow afternoon, or the day after? I want him to give me an +interview if he will. Tell him, please, he will very greatly oblige us." + +"Oh, he'll come all right," answered her companion, quickly. "I'll take +Tibbs's buggy and go down there right off. Eph won't lose no time gittin' +_here_!" And with this encouraging assurance he was flying forth, when he, +like the others, was detained by her solicitous care. She was a born +mother. He protested that in the buggy he would be perfectly sheltered; +besides, there wasn't another umbrella about the place; he _liked_ to get +wet, anyway; had always loved rain. The end of it was that he went away in +a sort of tremor, wearing her rain-cloak over his shoulders, which +garment, as it covered its owner completely when she wore it, hung almost +to his knees. He darted around a corner; and there, breathing deeply, +tenderly removed it; then, borrowing paper and cord at a neighboring +store, wrapped it neatly, and stole back to the printing-office on the +ground floor of the "Herald" building, and left the package in charge of +Bud Tipworthy, mysteriously charging him to care for it as for his own +life, and not to open it, but if the lady so much as set one foot out of +doors before his return, to hand it to her with the message: "He borrowed +another off J. Hankins." + +Left alone, the lady went to the desk and stood for a time looking gravely +at Harkless's chair. She touched it gently, as she had touched it once +before that morning, and then she spoke to it as if he were sitting there, +and as she would not have spoken, had he been sitting there. + +"You didn't want gratitude, did you?" she whispered, with sad lips. + +Soon she smiled at the blue ribbons, patted the chair gaily on the back, +and, seizing upon pencil and pad, dashed into her work with rare energy. +She bent low over the desk, her pencil moving rapidly, and, except for a +momentary interruption from Mr. Tipworthy, she seemed not to pause for +breath; certainly her pencil did not. She had covered many sheets when +her father returned; and, as he came in softly, not to disturb her, she +was so deeply engrossed she did not hear him; nor did she look up when +Parker entered, but pursued the formulation of her fast-flying ideas with +the same single purpose and abandon; so the two men sat and waited while +their chieftainess wrote absorbedly. At last she glanced up and made a +little startled exclamation at seeing them there, and then gave them +cheery greeting. Each placed several scribbled sheets before her, and she, +having first assured herself that Fisbee had bought his overshoes, and +having expressed a fear that Mr. Parker had found her umbrella too small, +as he looked damp (and indeed he _was_ damp), cried praises on their notes +and offered the reporters great applause. + +"It is all so splendid!" she cried. "How could you do it so quickly? And +in the rain, too! This is exactly what we need. I've done most of the +things I mentioned, I think, and made a draught of some plans for +hereafter. And about that man's coming out for Congress, I must tell you +it is my greatest hope that he will. We can let it go until he does, and +then----But doesn't it seem to you that it would be a good notion for the +'Herald' to have a woman's page--'For Feminine Readers,' or, 'Of Interest +to Women'--once a week?" + +"A woman's page!" exclaimed Fisbee. "I could never have thought of that, +could you, Mr. Parker?" + +"And now," she continued, "I think that when I've gone over what I've +written and beat it into better shape I shall be ready for something to +eat. Isn't it almost time for luncheon?" + +This simple, and surely natural, inquiry had a singular, devastating +effect upon her hearers. They looked upon each other with fallen jaws and +complete stupefaction. The old man began to grow pale, and Parker glared +about him with a wild eye. Fortunately, the editor was too busy at her +work to notice their agitation; she applied herself to making alterations +here and there, sometimes frowningly crossing out whole lines and even +paragraphs, sometimes smiling and beaming at the writing; and, as she bent +earnestly over the paper, against the darkness of the rainy day, the +glamour about her fair hair was like a light in the room. To the minds of +her two companions, this lustre was a gentle but unbearable accusation; +and each dreaded the moment when her Work should be finished, with a great +dread. There was a small "store-room" adjoining the office, and presently +Mr. Parker, sweating at the brow, walked in there. The old man gave him a +look of despairing reproach, but in a moment the foreman's voice was +heard: "Oh, Mr. Fisbee, can you step here a second?" + +"Yes, indeed!" was Fisbee's reply; and he fled guiltily into the "store- +room," and Parker closed the door. They stood knee-deep in the clutter and +lumber, facing each other abjectly. + +"Well, we're both done, anyway, Mr. Fisbee," remarked the foreman. + +"Indubitably, Mr. Parker," the old man answered; "it is too true." + +"Never to think a blame thing about dinner for her!" Parker continued, +remorsefully. "And her a lady that can turn off copy like a rotary +snowplough in a Dakota blizzard! Did you see the sheets she's piled up on +that desk?" + +"There is no cafe--nothing--in Plattville, that could prepare food worthy +of her," groaned Fisbee. "Nothing!" + +"And we never thought of it. Never made a single arrangement. Never struck +us she didn't live on keeping us dry and being good, I guess." + +"How can I go there and tell her that?" + +"Lord!" + +"She cannot go to the hotel----" + +"Well, I guess not! It ain't fit for her. Lum's table is hard enough on a +strong man. Landis doesn't know a good cake from a Fiji missionary +pudding. I don't expect pie is much her style, and, besides, the Palace +Hotel pies--well!--the boss was a mighty uncomplaining man, but I used to +notice his articles on field drainage got kind of sour and low-spirited +when they'd been having more than the regular allowance of pie for dinner. +She can't go there anyway; it's no use; it's after two o'clock, and the +dining-room shuts off at one. I wonder what kind of cake she likes best." + +"I don't know," said the perplexed Fisbee. "If we ask her--" + +"If we could sort of get it out of her diplomatically, we could telegraph +to Rouen for a good one." + +"Ha!" said the other, brightening up. "You try it, Mr. Parker. I fear I +have not much skill in diplomacy, but if you----" + +The compositor's mouth drooped at the corners, and he interrupted +gloomily: "But it wouldn't get here till to-morrow." + +"True; it would not." + +They fell into a despondent reverie, with their chins in their bosoms. +There came a cheerful voice from the next room, but to them it brought no +cheer; in their ears it sounded weak from the need of food and faint with +piteous reproach. + +"Father, aren't you coming to have luncheon with me?" + +"Mr. Parker, what are we to do?" whispered the old man, hoarsely. + +"Is it too far to take her to Briscoes'?" + +"In the rain?" + +"Take her with you to Tibbs's." + +"Their noon meal is long since over; and their larder is not--is not-- +extensive." + +"Father!" called the girl. She was stirring; they could hear her moving +about the room. + +"You've got to go in and tell her," said the foreman, desperately, and +together they stumbled into the room. A small table at one end of it was +laid with a snowy cloth and there was a fragrance of tea, and, amidst +various dainties, one caught a glimpse of cold chicken and lettuce leaves. +Fisbee stopped, dumfounded, but the foreman, after stammeringly declining +an invitation to partake, alleging that his own meal awaited, sped down to +the printing-room, and seized upon Bud Tipworthy with a heavy hand. + +"Where did all that come from, up there?" + +"Leave go me! _What_ 'all that'?" + +"All that tea and chicken and salad and wafers--all kinds of things; +sardines, for all I know!" + +"They come in Briscoes' buckboard while you was gone. Briscoes sent 'em in +a basket; I took 'em up and she set the basket under the table. You'd seen +it if you'd 'a' looked. _Quit_ that!" And it was unjust to cuff the +perfectly innocent and mystified Bud, and worse not to tell him what the +punishment was for. + +Before the day was over, system had been introduced, and the "Herald" was +running on it: and all that warm, rainy afternoon, the editor and Fisbee +worked in the editorial rooms, Parker and Bud and Mr. Schofield (after his +return with the items and a courteous message from Ephraim Watts) bent +over the forms downstairs, and Uncle Xenophon was cleaning the store-room +and scrubbing the floor. + +An extraordinary number of errands took the various members of the +printing force up to see the editor-in-chief, literally to see the editor- +in-chief; it was hard to believe that the presence had not flown--hard to +keep believing, without the repeated testimony of sight, that the dingy +room upstairs was actually the setting for their jewel; and a jewel they +swore she was. The printers came down chuckling and gurgling after each +interview; it was partly the thought that she belonged to the "Herald," +_their_ paper. Once Ross, as he cut down one of the temporarily distended +advertisements, looked up and caught the foreman giggling to himself. + +"What in the name of common-sense you laughin' at, Cale?" he asked. + +"What are _you_ laughing at?" rejoined the other. + +"I dunno!" + +The day wore on, wet and dreary outside, but all within the "Herald's" +bosom was snug and busy and murmurous with the healthy thrum of life and +prosperity renewed. Toward six o'clock, system accomplished, the new +guiding-spirit was deliberating on a policy as Harkless would conceive a +policy, were he there, when Minnie Briscoe ran joyously up the stairs, +plunged into the room, waterproofed and radiant, and caught her friend in +her eager arms, and put an end to policy for that day. + +But policy and labor did not end at twilight every day; there were +evenings, as in the time of Harkless, when lamps shone from the upper +windows of the "Herald" building. For the little editor worked hard, and +sometimes she worked late; she always worked early. She made some mistakes +at first, and one or two blunders which she took more seriously than any +one else did. But she found a remedy for all such results of her +inexperience, and she developed experience. She set at her task with the +energy of her youthfulness and no limit to her ambition, and she felt that +Harkless had prepared the way for a wide expansion of the paper's +interests; wider than he knew. She had a belief that there were +possibilities for a country newspaper, and she brought a fresh point of +view to operate in a situation where Harkless had fallen, perhaps, too +much in the rut; and she watched every chance with a keen eye and looked +ahead of her with clear foresight. What she waited and yearned for and +dreaded, was the time when a copy of the new "Herald" should be placed in +the trembling hands of the man who lay in the Rouen hospital. Then, she +felt, if he, unaware of her identity, should place everything in her hands +unreservedly, that would be a tribute to her work--and how hard she would +labor to deserve it! After a time, she began to realize that, as his +representative and the editor of the "Herald," she had become a factor in +district politics. It took her breath--but with a gasp of delight, for +there was something she wanted to do. + +Above all, she brought a light heart to her work. One evening in the +latter part of that first week of the new regime, Parker perceived Bud +Tipworthy standing in the doorway of the printing-room, beckoning him +silently to come without. + +"What's the matter, Buddie?" + +"Listen. She's singin' over her work." + +Parker stepped outside. On the pavement, people had stopped to listen; +they stood in the shadow, looking up with parted lips at the open, lighted +Windows, whence came a clear, soft, reaching voice, lifted in song; now it +swelled louder, unconsciously; now its volume was more slender and it +melted liquidly into the night; again, it trembled and rose and dwelt in +the ear, strong and pure; and, hearing it, you sighed with unknown +longings. It was the "Angels' Serenade." + +Bud Tipworthy's sister, Cynthia, was with him, and Parker saw that she +turned from the window and that she was crying, quietly; she put her hand +on the boy's shoulder and patted it with a forlorn gesture which, to the +foreman's eye, was as graceful as it was sad. He moved closer to Bud and +his big hand fell on Cynthia's brother's other shoulder, as he realized +that red hair could look pretty sometimes; and he wondered why the +editor's singing made Cynthy cry; and at the same time he decided to be +mighty good to Bud henceforth. The spell of night and song was on him; +that and something more; for it is a strange, inexplicable fact that the +most practical chief ever known to the "Herald" had a singularly +sentimental influence over her subordinates, from the moment of her +arrival. Under Harkless's domination there had been no more steadfast +bachelors in Carlow than Ross Schofield and Caleb Parker, and, like +timorous youths in a graveyard, daring and mocking the ghosts in order to +assuage their own fears, they had so jibed and jeered at the married state +that there was talk of urging the minister to preach at them; but now let +it be recorded that at the moment Caleb laid his hand on Bud's other +shoulder, his associate, Mr. Schofield, was enjoying a walk in the far end +of town with a widow, and it is not to be doubted that Mr. Tipworthy's +heart, also, was no longer in his possession, though, as it was after +eight o'clock, the damsel of his desire had probably long since retired to +her couch. + +For some faint light on the cause of these spells, we must turn to a +comment made by the invaluable Mr. Martin some time afterward. Referring +to the lady to whose voice he was now listening in silence (which shows +how great the enthralling of her voice was), he said: "When you saw her, +or heard her, or managed to be around, any, where she was, why, if you +couldn't git up no hope of marryin' _her_, you wanted to marry +_somebody_." + +Mr. Lige Willetts, riding idly by, drew rein in front of the lighted +windows, and listened with the others. Presently he leaned from his horse +and whispered to a man near him: + +"I know that song." + +"Do you?" whispered the other. + +"Yes; he and I heard her sing it, the night he was shot." + +"So!" + +"Yes, sir. It's by Beethoven." + +"Is it?" + +"It's a seraphic song," continued Lige. + +"No!" exclaimed his friend; then, shaking his head, he sighed: "Well, it's +mighty sweet." + +The song was suddenly woven into laughter in the unseen chamber, and the +lights in the windows went out, and a small lady and a tall lady and a +thin old man, all three laughing and talking happily, came down and drove +off in the Briscoe buckboard. The little crowd dispersed quietly; Lige +Willetts plucked to his horse and cantered away to overtake the buckboard; +William Todd took his courage between his teeth, and, the song ringing in +his ears, made a desperate resolve to call upon Miss Bardlock that +evening, in spite of its being a week day, and Caleb Parker gently and +stammeringly asked Cynthia if she would wait till he shut up the shop, and +let him walk home with her and Bud. + +Soon the Square was quiet as before, and there was naught but peace under +the big stars of July. + +That day the news had come that Harkless, after weeks of alternate +improvement and relapse, hazardously lingering in the borderland of +shadows, had passed the crucial point and was convalescent. His recovery +was assured. But from their first word of him, from the message that he +was found and was alive, none of the people of Carlow had really doubted +it. They are simple country people, and they know that God is good. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +NETTLES + +Two men who have been comrades and classmates at the Alma Mater of John +Harkless and Tom Meredith; two who have belonged to the same dub and +roomed in the same entry; who have pooled their clothes and money in a +common stock for either to draw on; who have shared the fortunes of +athletic war, triumphing together, sometimes with an intense triumphancy; +two men who were once boys getting hazed together, hazing in no unkindly +fashion in their turn, always helping each other to stuff brains the night +before an examination and to blow away the suffocating statistics like +foam the night after; singing, wrestling, dancing, laughing, succeeding +together, through the four kindest years of life; two such brave +companions, meeting in the after years, are touchingly tender and +caressive of each other, but the tenderness takes the shy, United States +form of insulting epithets, and the caresses are blows. If John Harkless +had been in health, uninjured and prosperous, Tom Meredith could no more +have thrown himself on his knees beside him and called him "old friend" +than he could have danced on the slack-wire. + +One day they thought the patient sleeping; the nurse fanned him softly, +and Meredith had stolen in and was sitting by the cot. One of Harkless's +eyes had been freed of the bandage, and, when Tom came in, it was closed; +but, by and by, Meredith became aware that the unbandaged eye had opened +and that it was suffused with a pathetic moisture; yet it twinkled with a +comprehending light, and John knew that it was his old Tom Meredith who +was sitting beside him, with the air of having sat there very often +before. But this bald, middle-aged young man, not without elegance, yet a +prosperous burgher for all that--was _this_ the slim, rollicking broth of +a boy whose thick auburn hair used to make one streak of flame as he spun +around the bases on a home run? Without doubt it was the stupendous fact, +wrought by the alchemy of seven years. + +For, though seven years be a mere breath in the memories of the old, it is +a long transfiguration to him whose first youth is passing, and who finds +unsolicited additions accruing to some parts of his being and strange +deprivations in others, and upon whom the unhappy realization begins to be +borne in, that his is no particular case, and that he of all the world is +not to be spared, but, like his forbears, must inevitably wriggle in the +disguising crucible of time. And, though men accept it with apparently +patient humor, the first realization that people do grow old, and that +they do it before they have had time to be young, is apt to come like a +shock. + +Perhaps not even in the interminable months of Carlow had Harkless +realized the length of seven years so keenly as he did when he beheld his +old friend at his bedside. How men may be warped apart in seven years, +especially in the seven years between twenty-three and thirty! At the +latter age you may return to the inseparable of seven years before and +speak not the same language; you find no heartiness to carry on with each +other after half an hour. Not so these classmates, who had known each +other to the bone. + +Ah, yes, it was Tom Meredith, the same lad, in spite of his masquerade of +flesh; and Helen was right: Tom had not forgotten. + +"It's the old horse-thief!" John murmured, tremulously. + +"You go plumb to thunder," answered Meredith between gulps. + + +When he was well enough, they had long talks; and at other times Harkless +lay by the window, and breathed deep of the fresh air, while Meredith +attended to his correspondence for him, and read the papers to him. But +there was one phenomenon of literature the convalescent insisted upon +observing for himself, and which he went over again and again, to the +detriment of his single unswathed eye, and this was the Carlow "Herald." + +The first letter he had read to him was one from Fisbee stating that the +crippled forces left in charge had found themselves almost distraught in +their efforts to carry on the paper (as their chief might conclude for +himself on perusal of the issues of the first fortnight of his absence), +and they had made bold to avail themselves of the services of a young +relative of the writer's from a distant city--a capable journalist, who +had no other employment for the present, and who had accepted the +responsibilities of the "Herald" temporarily. There followed a note from +Parker, announcing that Mr. Fisbee's relative was a bird, and was the kind +to make the "Herald" hum. They hoped Mr. Harkless would approve of their +bespeaking the new hand on the sheet; the paper must have suspended +otherwise. Harkless, almost overcome by his surprise that Fisbee possessed +a relative, dictated a hearty and grateful indorsement of their action, +and, soon after, received a typewritten rejoinder, somewhat complicated in +the reading, because of the numerous type errors and their corrections. +The missive was signed "H. Fisbee," in a strapping masculine hand that +suggested six feet of enterprise and muscle spattering ink on its shirt +sleeves. + +John groaned and fretted over the writhings of the "Herald's" headless +fortnight, but, perusing the issues produced under the domination of H. +Fisbee, he started now and then, and chuckled at some shrewd felicities of +management, or stared, puzzled, over an oddity, but came to a feeling of +vast relief; and, when the question of H. Fisbee's salary was settled and +the tenancy assured, he sank into a repose of mind. H. Fisbee might be an +eccentric fellow, but he knew his business, and, apparently, he knew +something of other business as well, for he wrote at length concerning the +Carlow oil fields, urging Harkless to take shares in Mr. Watts's company +while the stock was very low, two wells having been sunk without +satisfactory results. H. Fisbee explained with exceeding technicality his +reasons for believing that the third well would strike oil. + +But with his ease of mind regarding the "Herald," Harkless found himself +possessed by apathy. He fretted no longer to get back to Plattville. With +the prospect of return it seemed an emptiness glared at him from hollow +sockets, and the thought of the dreary routine he must follow when he went +back gave him the same faint nausea he had felt the evening after the +circus. And, though it was partly the long sweat of anguish which had +benumbed him, his apathy was pierced, at times, by a bodily horror of the +scene of his struggle. At night he faced the grotesque masks of the Cross- +Roads men and the brutal odds again; over and over he felt the blows, and +clapped his hand to where the close fire of Bob Skillett's pistol burned +his body. + +And, except for the release from pain, he rejoiced less and less in his +recovery. He remembered a tedious sickness of his childhood and how +beautiful he had thought the world, when he began to get well, how +electric the open air blowing in at the window, how green the smile of +earth, and how glorious to live and see the open day again. He had none of +that feeling now. No pretty vision came again near his bed, and he beheld +his convalescence as a mistake. He had come to a jumping-off place in his +life--why had they not let him jump? What was there left but the weary +plod, plod, and dust of years? + +He could have gone back to Carlow in better spirit if it had not been for +the few dazzling hours of companionship which had transformed it to a +paradise, but, gone, left a desert. She, by the sight of her, had made him +wish to live, and now, that he saw her no more, she made him wish to die. +How little she had cared for him, since she told him she did not care, +when he had not meant to ask her. He was weary, and at last he longed to +find the line of least resistance and follow it; he had done hard things +for a long time, but now he wanted to do something easy. Under the new +genius--who was already urging that the paper should be made a daily--the +"Herald" could get along without him; and the "White-Caps" would bother +Carlow no longer; and he thought that Kedge Halloway, an honest man, if a +dull one, was sure to be renominated for Congress at the district +convention which was to meet at Plattville in September--these were his +responsibilities, and they did not fret him. Everything was all right. +There was only one thought which thrilled him: his impression that she had +come to the hospital to see him was not a delusion; she had really been +there--as a humane, Christian person, he said to himself. One day he told +Meredith of his vision, and Tom explained that it was no conjuration of +fever. + +"But I thought she'd gone abroad," said Harkless, staring. + +"They had planned to," answered his friend. "They gave it up for some +reason. Uncle Henry decided that he wasn't strong enough for the trip, or +something." + +"Then--is she--is she here?" + +"No; Helen is never here in summer. When she came back from Plattville, +she went north, somewhere, to join people she had promised, I think." +Meredith had as yet no inkling or suspicion that his adopted cousin had +returned to Plattville. What he told Harkless was what his aunt had told +him, and he accepted it as the truth. + +Mrs. Sherwood (for she was both Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood) had always +considered Fisbee an enigmatic rascal, and she regarded Helen's defection +to him in the light of a family scandal to be hushed up, as well as a +scalding pain to be borne. Some day the unkind girl-errant would "return +to her wisdom and her duty"; meanwhile, the less known about it the +better. + +Meredith talked very little to Harkless of his cousin, beyond lightly +commenting on the pleasure and oddity of their meeting, and telling him of +her friendly anxiety about his recovery; he said she had perfect +confidence from the first that he would recover. Harkless had said a word +or two in his delirium and a word or two out of it, and these, with once a +sudden brow of suffering, and a difference Meredith felt in Helen's manner +when they stood together by the sick man's bedside, had given the young +man a strong impression, partly intuitive, that in spite of the short time +the two had known each other, something had happened between them at +Plattville, and he ventured a guess which was not far from the truth. +Altogether, the thing was fairly plain--a sad lover is not so hard to +read--and Meredith was sorry, for they were the two people he liked best +on earth. + +The young man carried his gay presence daily to the hospital, where +Harkless now lay in a pleasant room of his own, and he tried to keep his +friend cheery, which was an easy matter on the surface, for the journalist +turned ever a mask of jokes upon him; but it was not hard for one who +liked him as Meredith did to see through to the melancholy underneath. +After his one reference to Helen, John was entirely silent of her, and +Meredith came to feel that both would be embarrassed if occasion should +rise and even her name again be mentioned between them. + +He did not speak of his family connection with Mr. Fisbee to the invalid, +for, although the connection was distant, the old man was, in a way, the +family skeleton, and Meredith had a strong sense of the decency of reserve +in such a matter. There was one thing Fisbee's shame had made the old man +unable not to suppress when he told Parker his story; the wraith of a +torrid palate had pursued him from his youth, and the days of drink and +despair from which Harkless had saved him were not the first in his life. +Meredith wondered as much as did Harkless where Fisbee had picked up the +journalistic "young relative" who signed his extremely business-like +missives in such a thundering hand. It was evident that the old man was +grateful to his patron, but it did not occur to Meredith that Fisbee's +daughter might have an even stronger sense of gratitude, one so strong +that she could give all her young strength to work for the man who had +been good to her father. + +There came a day in August when Meredith took the convalescent from the +hospital in a victoria, and installed him in his own home. Harkless's +clothes hung on his big frame limply; however, there was a drift of light +in his eyes as they drove slowly through the pretty streets of Rouen. The +bandages and splints and drugs and swathings were all gone now, and his +sole task was to gather strength. The thin face was sallow no longer; it +was the color of evening shadows; indeed he lay among the cushions +seemingly no more than a gaunt shadow of the late afternoon, looking old +and gray and weary. They rolled along abusing each other, John sometimes +gratefully threatening his friend with violence. + +The victoria passed a stone house with wide lawns and an inhospitable air +of wealth and importunate rank; over the sward two peacocks swung, +ambulating like caravals in a green sea; and one expected a fine lady to +come smiling and glittering from the door. Oddly enough, though he had +never seen the place before, it struck Harkless with a sense of +familiarity. "Who lives there?" he asked abruptly. + +"Who lives there? On the left? Why that--that is the Sherwood place," +Meredith answered, in a tone which sounded as if he were not quite sure of +it, but inclined to think his information correct. Harkless relapsed into +silence. + +Meredith's home was a few blocks further up the same street; a capacious +house in the Western fashion of the Seventies. In front, on the lawn, +there was a fountain with a leaping play of water; maples and shrubbery +were everywhere; and here and there stood a stiff sentinel of Lombardy +poplar. It was all cool and incongruous and comfortable; and, on the +porch, sheltered from publicity by a multitude of palms and flowering +plants, a white-jacketed negro appeared with a noble smile and a more +important tray, whereon tinkled bedewed glasses and a crystal pitcher, +against whose sides the ice clinked sweetly. There was a complement of +straws. + +When they had helped him to an easy chair on the porch, Harkless whistled +luxuriously. "Ah, my bachelor!" he exclaimed, as he selected a straw. + +"'Who would fardels bear?'" rejoined Mr. Meredith. Then came to the other +a recollection of an auburn-haired ball player on whom the third strike +had once been called while his eyes wandered tenderly to the grandstand, +where the prettiest girl of that commencement week was sitting. + +"Have you forgot the 'Indian Princess'?" he asked. + +"You're a dull old person," Tom laughed. "Haven't you discovered that 'tis +they who forget us? And why shouldn't they? Do _we_ remember well?-- +anybody except just us two, I mean, of course." + +"I've a notion we do, sometimes." + +The other set his glass on the tray, and lit his cigarette. "Yes; when +we're unsuccessful. Then I think we do." + +"That may be true." + +"Of course it is. If a lady wishes to make an impression on me that is +worth making, let her let me make none on her." + +"You think it is always our vanity?" + +"Analyze it as your revered Thomas does and you shall reach the same +conclusion. Let a girl reject you and--" Meredith broke off, cursing +himself inwardly, and, rising, cried gaily: "What profiteth it a man if he +gain the whole wisdom in regard to women and loseth not his own heart? And +neither of us is lacking a heart--though it may be; one can't tell, one's +self; one has to find out about that from some girl. At least, I'm rather +sure of mine; it's difficult to give a tobacco-heart away; it's drugged on +the market. I'm going to bring out the dogs; I'm spending the summer at +home just to give them daily exercise." + +This explanation of his continued presence in Rouen struck John as quite +as plausible as Meredith's more seriously alleged reasons for not joining +his mother and sister, at Winter Harbor. (He possessed a mother, and, as +he explained, he had also sisters to satiety, in point of numbers.) +Harkless knew that Tom had stayed to look after him; and he thought there +never was so poor a peg as himself whereon to hang the warm mantle of such +a friendship. He knew that other mantles of affection and kindliness hung +on that self-same peg, for he had been moved by the letters and visits +from Carlow people, and he had heard the story of their descent upon the +hospital, and of the march on the Cross-Roads. Many a good fellow, too, +had come to see him during his better days--from Judge Briscoe, openly +tender and solicitous, to the embarrassed William Todd, who fiddled at +his hat and explained that, being as he was in town on business (a +palpable fiction) he thought he'd look in to see if "they was any word +would wish to be sent down to our city." The good will the sick man had +from every one touched him, and made him feel unworthy, and he could see +nothing he had done to deserve it. Mr. Meredith could (and would not-- +openly, at least) have explained to him that it made not a great deal of +difference what he did; it was what people thought he was. + +His host helped him upstairs after dinner, and showed him the room +prepared for his occupancy. Harkless sank, sighing with weakness, into a +deep chair, and Meredith went to a window-seat and stretched himself out +for a smoke and chat. + +"Doesn't it beat your time," he said, cheerily, "to think of what's become +of all the old boys? They turn up so differently from what we expected, +when they turn up at all. We sized them up all right so far as character +goes, I fancy, but we couldn't size up the chances of life. Take poor old +Pickle Haines: who'd have dreamed Pickle would shoot himself over a +bankruptcy? I dare say that wasn't all of it--might have been cherchez la +femme, don't you think? What do you make of Pickle's case, John?" + +There was no answer. Harkless's chair was directly in front of the mantel- +piece, and upon the carved wooden shelf, amongst tobacco-jars and little +curios, cotillion favors and the like, there were scattered a number of +photographs. One of these was that of a girl who looked straight out at +you from a filigree frame; there was hardly a corner of the room where you +could have stood without her clear, serious eyes seeming to rest upon +yours. + +"Cherchez la femme?" repeated Tom, puffing unconsciously. "Pickle was a +good fellow, but he had the deuce of an eye for a girl. Do you remember--" +He stopped short, and saw the man and the photograph looking at each +other. Too late, he unhappily remembered that he had meant, and forgotten, +to take that photograph out of the room before he brought Harkless in. Now +he would have to leave it; and Helen Sherwood was not the sort of girl, +even in a flat presentment, to be continually thrown in the face of a man +who had lost her. And it always went hard, Tom reflected, with men who +stretched vain hands to Helen, only to lose her. But there was one, he +thought, whose outstretched hands might not prove so vain. Why couldn't +she have cared for John Harkless? Deuce take the girl, did she want to +marry an emperor? He looked at Harkless, and pitied him with an almost +tearful compassion. A feverish color dwelt in the convalescent's cheek; +the apathy that had dulled his eyes was there no longer; instead, they +burned with a steady fire. The image returned his unwavering gaze with +inscrutable kindness. + +"You heard that Pickle shot himself, didn't you?" Meredith asked. There +was no answer; John did not hear him. + +"Do you know that poor Jeny Haines killed himself, last March?" Tom said +sharply. + +There was only silence in the room. Meredith got up and rattled some tongs +in the empty fireplace, but the other did not move or notice him in any +way. + +Meredith set the tongs down, and went quietly out of the room, leaving his +friend to that mysterious interview. + +When he came back, after a remorseful cigarette in the yard, Harkless was +still sitting, motionless, looking up at the photograph above the mantel- +piece. + + + +They drove abroad every day, at first in the victoria, and, as Harkless's +strength began to come back, in a knock-about cart of Tom's, a light trail +of blue smoke floating back wherever the two friends passed. And though +the country editor grew stronger in the pleasant, open city, Meredith felt +that his apathy and listlessness only deepened, and he suspected that, in +Harkless's own room, where the photograph reigned, the languor departed +for the time, making way for a destructive fire. Judge Briscoe, paying a +second visit to Rouen, told Tom, in an aside, that their friend did not +seem to be the same man. He was altered and aged beyond belief, the old +gentleman whispered sadly. + +Meredith decided that his guest needed enlivening--something to take him +out of himself; he must be stirred up to rub against people once more. And +therefore, one night he made a little company for him: two or three +apparently betrothed very young couples, for whom it was rather dull, +after they had looked their fill of Harkless (it appeared that every one +was curious to see him); and three or four married young couples, for whom +the entertainment seemed rather diverting in an absent-minded way (they +had the air of remembering that they had forgotten the baby); and three or +four bachelors, who seemed contented in any place where they were allowed +to smoke; and one widower, whose manner indicated that any occasion +whatever was gay enough for him; and four or five young women, who +(Meredith explained to John) were of their host's age, and had been "left +over" out of the set he grew up with; and for these the modest party took +on a hilarious and chipper character. "It is these girls that have let the +men go by because they didn't see any good enough; they're the jolly +souls!" the one widower remarked, confidentially. "They've been at it a +long while, and they know how, and they're light-hearted as robins. They +have more fun than people who have responsibilities." + +All of these lively demoiselles fluttered about Harkless with +commiserative pleasantries, and, in spite of his protestations, made him +recline in the biggest and deepest chair on the porch, where they +surfeited him with kindness and grouped about him with extra cushions and +tenderness for a man who had been injured. No one mentioned the fact that +he had been hurt; it was not spoken of, though they wished mightily he +would tell them the story they had read luridly in the public prints. They +were very good to him. One of them, in particular, a handsome, dark, kind- +eyed girl, constituted herself at once his cicerone in Rouen gossip and +his waiting-maid. She sat by him, and saw that his needs (and his not- +needs, too) were supplied and oversupplied; she could not let him move, +and anticipated his least wish, though he was now amply able to help +himself; and she fanned him as if he were a dying consumptive. + +They sat on Meredith's big porch in the late twilight and ate a +substantial refection, and when this was finished, a buzz of nonsense rose +from all quarters, except the remote corners where the youthful affianced +ones had defensively stationed themselves behind a rampart of plants. +They, having eaten, had naught to do, and were only waiting a decent hour +for departure. Laughing voices passed up and down the street, and mingled +with the rhythmic plashing of Meredith's fountain, and, beyond the +shrubberies and fence, one caught glimpses of the light dresses of women +moving to and fro, and of people sitting bareheaded on neighboring lawns +to enjoy the twilight. Now and then would pass, with pipe and dog, the +beflanneled figure of an undergraduate, home for vacation, or a trio of +youths in knickerbockers, or a band of young girls, or both trio and band +together; and from a cross street, near by, came the calls and laughter of +romping children and the pulsating whirr of a lawn-mower: This sound +Harkless remarked as a ceaseless accompaniment to life in Rouen; even in +the middle of the night there was always some unfortunate, cutting grass. + +When the daylight was all gone, and the stars had crept out, strolling +negroes patrolled the sidewalks, thrumming mandolins and guitars, and +others came and went, singing, making the night Venetian. The untrained, +joyous voices, chording eerily in their sweet, racial minors, came on the +air, sometimes from far away. But there swung out a chorus from fresh, +Aryan throats, in the house south of Meredith's: + + 'Where, oh where, are the grave old Seniors? + Safe, now, in the wide, wide world!" + +"Doesn't that thrill you, boy?" said Meredith, joining the group about +Harkless's chair. "Those fellows are Sophomores, class of heaven knows +what. _Aren't_ you feeling a fossil. Father Abraham?" + +A banjo chattered on the lawn to the north, and soon a mixed chorus of +girls and boys sang from there: + + "O, 'Arriet, I'm waiting, waiting alone out 'ere." + +Then a piano across the street sounded the dearthful harmonies of Chopin's +Funeral March. + +"You may take your choice," remarked Meredith, flicking a spark over the +rail in the ash of his cigar, "Chopping or Chevalier." + +"Chopin, my friend," said the lady who had attached herself to Harkless. +She tapped Tom's shoulder with her fan and smiled, graciously corrective. + +"Thank you, Miss Hinsdale," he answered, gratefully. "And as I, perhaps, +had better say, since otherwise there might be a pause and I am the host, +we have a wide selection. In addition to what is provided at present, I +predict that within the next ten minutes a talented girl who lives two +doors south will favor us with the Pilgrims' Chorus, piano arrangement, +break down in the middle, and drift, into 'Rastus on Parade,' while a +double quartette of middle-aged colored gentlemen under our Jim will make +choral offering in our own back yard." + +"My dear Tom," exclaimed Miss Hinsdale, "you forget Wetherford Swift!" + +"I could stand it all," put forth the widower, "if it were not for +Wetherford Swift." + +"When is Miss Sherwood coming home?" asked one of the ladies. "Why does +she stay away and leave him to his sufferings?" + +"Us to his sufferings," substituted a bachelor. "He is just beginning; +listen." + +Through all the other sounds of music, there penetrated from an unseen +source, a sawish, scraped, vibration of catgut, pathetic, insistent, +painstaking, and painful beyond belief. + +"He is in a terrible way to-night," said the widower. + +Miss Hinsdale laughed. "Worse every night. The violinist is young +Wetherford Swift," she explained to Harkless. "He is very much in love, +and it doesn't agree with him. He used to be such a pleasant boy, but last +winter he went quite mad over Helen Sherwood, Mr. Meredith's cousin, our +beauty, you know--I am so sorry she isn't here; you'd be interested in +meeting her, I'm sure--and he took up the violin." + +"It is said that his family took up chloroform at the same time," said the +widower. + +"His music is a barometer," continued the lady, "and by it the +neighborhood nightly observes whether Miss Sherwood has been nice to him +or not." + +"It is always exceedingly plaintive," explained another. + +"Except once," rejoined Miss Hinsdale. "He played jigs when she came home +from somewhere or other, in June." + +"It was Tosti's 'Let Me Die,' the very next evening," remarked the +widower. + +"Ah," said one of the bachelors, "but his joy was sadder for us than his +misery. Hear him now." + +"I think he means it for 'What's this dull town to me,'" observed another, +with some rancor. "I would willingly make the town sufficiently exciting +for him--" + +"If there were not an ordinance against the hurling of missiles," finished +the widower. + +The piano executing the funeral march ceased to execute, discomfited by +the persistent and overpowering violin; the banjo and the coster-songs +were given over; even the collegians' music was defeated; and the +neighborhood was forced to listen to the dauntless fiddle, but not without +protest, for there came an indignant, spoken chorus from the quarter +whence the college songs had issued: "Ya-a-ay! Wetherford, put it away! +_She'll_ come back!" The violin played on. + +"We all know each other here, you see, Mr. Harkless," Miss Hinsdale smiled +benignantly. + +"They didn't bother Mr. Wetherford Swift," said the widower. "Not that +time. Do you hear him?--'Could ye come back to me, Douglas'?" + +"Oh, but it isn't absence that is killing him and his friends," cried one +of the young women. "It is Brainard Macauley." + +"That is a mistake," said Tom Meredith, as easily as he could. "There +goes Jim's double quartette. Listen, and you will hear them try to----" + +But the lady who had mentioned Brainard Macauley cried indignantly: "You +try to change the subject the moment it threatens to be interesting. They +were together everywhere until the day she went away; they danced and 'sat +out' together through the whole of one country-club party; they drove +every afternoon; they took long walks, and he was at the Sherwoods' every +evening of her last week in town. 'That is a mistake!'" + +"I'm afraid it looks rather bleak for Wetherford," said the widower. "I +went up to the 'Journal' office on business, one day, and there sat Miss +Sherwood in Macauley's inner temple, chatting with a reporter, while +Brainard finished some work." + +"Helen is eccentric," said the former speaker, "but she's not quite that +eccentric, unless they were engaged. It is well understood that they will +announce it in the fall." + +Miss Hinsdale kindly explained to Harkless that Brainard Macauley was the +editor of the "Rouen Morning Journal"--"a very distinguished young man, +not over twenty-eight, and perfectly wonderful." Already a power to be +accounted with in national politics, he was "really a tremendous success," +and sure to go far; "one of those delicate-looking men, who are yet so +strong you know they won't let the lightning hurt you." It really looked +as if Helen Sherwood (whom Harkless really ought to meet) had actually +been caught in the toils at tet, those toils wherein so many luckless +youths had lain enmeshed for her sake. He must meet Mr. Macauley, too, the +most interesting man in Rouen. After her little portrait of him, didn't +Mr. Harkless agree that it looked really pretty dull for Miss Sherwood's +other lovers? + +Mr. Harkless smiled, and agreed that it did indeed. She felt a thrill of +compassion for him, and her subsequent description of the pathos of his +smile was luminous. She said it was natural that a man who had been +through so much suffering from those horrible "White-Cappers" should have +a smile that struck into your heart like a knife. + +Despite all that Meredith could do, and after his notorious effort to +shift the subject he could do very little, the light prattle ran on about +Helen Sherwood and Brainard Macauley. Tom abused himself for his wild +notion of cheering his visitor with these people who had no talk, and who, +if they drifted out of commonplace froth, had no medium to float them +unless they sailed the currents, of local personality, and he mentally +upbraided them for a set of gossiping ninnies. They conducted a +conversation (if it could be dignified by a name) of which no stranger +could possibly partake, and which, by a hideous coincidence, was making +his friend writhe, figuratively speaking, for Harkless sat like a fixed +shadow. He uttered scarcely a word the whole evening, though Meredith knew +that his guests would talk about him enthusiastically, the next day, none +the less. The journalist's silence was enforced by the topics; but what +expression and manner the light allowed them to see was friendly and +receptive, as though he listened to brilliant suggestions. He had a nice +courtesy, and Miss Hinsdale felt continually that she was cleverer than +usual this evening, and no one took his silence to be churlish, though +they all innocently wondered why he did not talk more; however, it was +probable that a man who had been so interestingly and terribly shot would +be rather silent for a time afterward. + +That night, when Harkless had gone to bed Meredith sat late by his own +window calling himself names. He became aware of a rhomboidal patch of +yellow light on a wall of foliage without, and saw that it came from his +friend's window. After dubious consideration, he knocked softly on the +door. + +"Come." + +He went in. Harkless was in bed, and laughed faintly as Meredith entered. +"I--I'm fearing you'll have to let me settle your gas bill, Tom. I'm not +like I used to be, quite. I find--since--since that business, I can't +sleep without a light. I rather get the--the horrors in the dark." + +Incoherently, Meredith made a compassionate exclamation and turned to go, +and, as he left the room, his eye fell upon the mantel-piece. The position +of the photographs had been altered, and the picture of the girl who +looked straight out at you was gone. The mere rim of it was visible behind +the image of an old gentleman with a sardonic mouth. + +An hour later, Tom came back, and spoke through the closed door. "Boy, +don't you think you can get to sleep now?" + +"Yes, Tom. It's all right. You get to bed. Nothing troubles me." + +Meredith spent the next day in great tribulation and perplexity; he felt +that something had to be done, but what to do he did not know. He still +believed that a "stirring-up" was what Harkless needed--not the species of +"stirring-up" that had taken place last night, but a diversion which would +divert. As they sat at dinner, a suggestion came to him and he determined +to follow it. He was called to the telephone, and a voice strange to his +ear murmured in a tone of polite deference: "A lady wishes to know if Mr. +Meredith and his visitor intend being present at the country-club this +evening." + +He had received the same inquiry from Miss Hinsdale on her departure the +previous evening, and had answered vaguely; hence he now rejoined: + +"You are quite an expert ventriloquist, but you do not deceive me." + +"I beg your pardon, sir," creaked the small articulation. + +"This is Miss Hinsdale, isn't it?" + +"No, sir. The lady wishes to know if you will kindly answer her question." + +"Tell her, yes." He hung up the receiver, and returned to the table. "Some +of Clara Hinsdale's play," he explained. "You made a devastating +impression on her, boy; you were wise enough not to talk any, and she +foolishly thought you were as interesting as you looked. We're going out +to a country-club dance. It's given for the devotees who stay here all +summer and swear Rouen is always cool; and nobody dances but me and the +very young ones. It won't be so bad; you can smoke anywhere, and there are +little tables. We'll go." + +"Thank you, Tom, you're so good to think of it, but----" + +"But what?" + +"Would you mind going alone? I find it very pleasant sitting on your +veranda, or I'll get a book." + +"Very well, if you don't want to go, I don't. I haven't had a dance for +three months and I'm still addicted to it. But of course----" + +"I think I'd like to go." Harkless acquiesced at once, with a cheerful +voice and a lifeless eye, and the good Tom felt unaccountably mean in +persisting. + +They drove out into the country through mists like lakes, and found +themselves part of a procession of twinkling carriage-lights, and cigar +sparks shining above open vehicles, winding along the levels like a canoe +fete on the water. In the entrance hall of the club-house they encountered +Miss Hinsdale, very handsome, large, and dark, elaborately beaming and +bending toward them warmly. + +"Who do you think is here?" she said. + +"Gomez?" ventured Meredith. + +"Helen Sherwood!" she cried. "Go and present Mr. Harkless before Brainard +Macauley takes her away to some corner." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +PRETTY MARQUISE + +The two friends walked through a sort of opera-bouffe to find her; music +playing, a swaying crowd, bright lights, bright eyes, pretty women, a +glimpse of dancers footing it over a polished floor in a room beyond--a +hundred colors flashing and changing, as the groups shifted, before the +eye could take in the composition of the picture. A sudden thrill of +exhilaration rioted in John's pulses, and he trembled like a child before +the gay disclosure of a Christmas tree. Meredith swore to himself that he +would not have known him for the man of five minutes agone. Two small, +bright red spots glowed in his cheeks; he held himself erect with head +thrown back and shoulders squared, and the idolizing Tom thought he looked +as a king ought to look at the acme of power and dominion. Miss Hinsdale's +word in the hallway was the geniuses touch: a bent, gray man of years--a +word--and behold the Great John Harkless, the youth of elder days ripened +to his prime of wisdom and strength! People made way for them and +whispered as they passed. It had been years since John Harkless had been +in the midst of a crowd of butterfly people; everything seemed unreal, or +like a ball in a play; presently the curtain would fall and close the +lights and laughter from his view, leaving only the echo of music. It was +like a kaleidoscope for color: the bouquets of crimson or white or pink or +purple; the profusion of pretty dresses, the brilliant, tender fabrics, +and the handsome, foreshortened faces thrown back over white shoulders in +laughter; glossy raven hair and fair tresses moving in quick salutations; +and the whole gay shimmer of festal tints and rich artificialities set off +against the brave green of out-doors, for the walls were solidly adorned +with forest branches, with, here and there amongst them, a blood-red droop +of beech leaves, stabbed in autumn's first skirmish with summer. The night +was cool, and the air full of flower smells, while harp, violin, and +'cello sent a waltz-throb through it all. + +They looked rapidly through several rooms and failed to find her indoors, +and they went outside, not exchanging a word, and though Harkless was a +little lame, Tom barely kept up with his long stride. On the verandas +there were fairy lamps and colored incandescents over little tables, where +people sat chatting. She was not there. Beyond was a terrace, where a +myriad of Oriental lanterns outlined themselves clearly in fantastically +shaped planes of scarlet and orange and green against the blue darkness. +Many couples and groups were scattered over the terrace, and the young men +paused on the steps, looking swiftly from group to group. She was not +there. + +"We haven't looked in the dancing-room," said Tom, looking at his +companion rather sorrowfully. John turned quickly and they reentered the +house. + +He had parted from her in the blackness of storm with only the flicker of +lightning to show her to him, but it was in a blaze of lights that he saw +her again. The dance was just ended, and she stood in a wide doorway, half +surrounded by pretty girls and young men, who were greeting her. He had +one full look at her. She was leaning to them all, her arms full of +flowers, and she seemed the radiant centre of all the light and gaiety of +the place. Even Meredith stopped short and exclaimed upon her; for one +never got used to her; and he remembered that whenever he saw her after +absence the sense of her beauty rushed over him anew. And he believed the +feeling on this occasion was keener than ever before, for she was prettier +than he had ever seen her. + +"No wonder!" he cried; but Harkless did not understand. As they pressed +forward, Meredith perceived that they were only two more radii of a circle +of youths, sprung from every direction as the waltz ended, bearing down +upon the common focus to secure the next dance. Harkless saw nothing but +that she stood there before him. He feared a little that every one might +notice how he was trembling, and he was glad of the many voices that kept +them from hearing his heart knock against his ribs. She saw him coming +toward her, and nodded to him pleasantly, in just the fashion in which she +was bowing to half a dozen others, and at that a pang of hot pain went +through him like an arrow--an arrow poisoned with cordial, casual +friendliness. + +She extended her hand to him and gave him a smile that chilled him--it, +was so conventionally courteous and poised so nicely in the manner of +society. He went hot and cold fast enough then, for not less pleasantly in +that manner did she exclaim: "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Harkless, so +extremely glad! And so delighted to find you looking strong again! Do tell +me about all our friends in Plattville. I should like to have a little +chat with you some time. So good of you to find me in this melee." + +And with that she turned from the poor fellow to Meredith. "How do you do. +Cousin Tom? I've saved the next dance for you." Then she distributed words +here and there and everywhere, amongst the circle about her--pretty +Marquise with a vengeance! "No, Mr. Swift, I shall not make a card; you +must come at the beginning of a dance if you want one. I cannot promise +the next; it is quite impossible. No, I did not go as far north as +Mackinac. How do you do, Mr. Burlingame?--Yes, quite an age;--no, not the +next, I am afraid; nor the next;--I'm not keeping a card. Good evening, +Mr. Baird. No, not the next. Oh, _thank_ you, Miss Hinsdale!--No, Mr. +Swift, it is quite impossible--I'm so sorry. Cousin, the music is +commencing; this is ours." + +As she took Meredith's arm, she handed her flowers to a gentleman beside +her with the slightest glance at the recipient; and the gesture and look +made her partner heartsick for his friend; it was so easy and natural and +with the air of habit, and had so much of the manner with which a woman +hands things to a man who partakes of her inner confidences. Tom knew +that Harkless divined the gesture, as well as the identity of the +gentleman. They started away, but she paused, and turned to the latter. +"Mr. Macauley, you must meet Mr. Harkless. We leave him in your care, and +you must see that he meets all the pretty girls--you are used to being +nice to distinguished strangers, you know." + +Tom put his arm about her, and whirled her away, and Harkless felt as if a +soft hand had dealt him blow after blow in the face. Was this lady of +little baffling forms and small cold graces the girl who had been his kind +comrade, the girl who stood with him by the blue tent-pole, she who had +run to him to save his life, she who walked at his side along the pike? +The contrast of these homely scenes made him laugh grimly. Was this she +who had wept before him--was it she who had been redolent of kindness so +fragrantly natural and true--was it she who said she "loved all these +people very much, in spite of having known them only two days"? + +He cried out upon himself for a fool. What was he in her eyes but a man +who had needed to be told that she did not love him! Had he not better-- +and more courteously to her--have avoided the meeting which was +necessarily an embarrassment to her? But no; he must rush like a Mohawk +till he found her and forced her to rebuff him, to veil her kindness in +little manners, to remind him that he put himself in the character of a +rejected importunate. She had punished him enough, perhaps a little too +cruelly enough, in leaving him with the man to whom she handed bouquets as +a matter of course. And this man was one whose success had long been a +trumpet at his ear, blaring loudly of his own failure in the same career. + +It had been several years since he first heard of the young editor of the +Rouen "Journal," and nowadays almost everybody knew about Brainard +Macauley. Outwardly, he was of no unusual type: an American of affairs; +slight, easy, yet alert; relaxed, yet sharp; neat, regular, strong; a +quizzical eye, a business chin, an ambitious head with soft, straight hair +outlining a square brow; and though he was "of a type," he was not +commonplace, and one knew at once that he would make a rattling fight to +arrive where he was going. + +It appeared that he had heard of Harkless, as well as the Carlow editor of +him. They had a few moments of shop, and he talked to Harkless as a +brother craftsman, without the offense of graciousness, and spoke of his +pleasure in the meeting and of his relief at Harkless's recovery, for, +aside from the mere human feeling, the party needed him in Carlow--even if +he did not always prove himself "quite a vehement partisan." Macauley +laughed. "But I'm not doing my duty," he said presently; "I was to present +you to the pretty ones only, I believe. Will you designate your preferred +fashion of beauty? We serve all styles." + +"Thank you," the other answered, hurriedly. "I met a number last night-- +quite a number, indeed." He had seen them only in dim lights, however, and +except Miss Hinsdale and the widower, had not the faintest recognition of +any of them, and he cut them all, except those two, one after the other, +before the evening was over; and this was a strange thing for a politician +to do; but he did it with such an innocent eye that they remembered the +dark porch and forgave him. + +"Shall we watch the dancing, then?" asked Macauley. Harkless was already +watching part of it. + +"If you will. I have not seen this sort for more than five years." + +"It is always a treat, I think, and a constant proof that the older school +of English caricaturists didn't overdraw." + +"Yes; one realizes they couldn't." + +Harkless remembered Tom Meredith's fine accomplishment of dancing; he had +been the most famous dancer of college days, and it was in the dancer that +John best saw his old friend again as he had known him, the light lad of +the active toe. Other couples flickered about the one John watched, +couples that plodded, couples that bobbed, couples that galloped, couples +that slid, but the cousins alone passed across the glistening reflections +as lightly as October leaves blown over the forest floor. In the midst of +people who danced with fixed, glassy eyes, or who frowned with +determination to do their duty or to die, and seemed to expect the latter, +or who were pale with the apprehension of collision, or who made visible +their anxiety to breathe through the nose and look pleased at the same +time, these two floated and smiled easily upon life. Three or four steep +steps made the portly and cigarette-smoking Meredith pant like an old man, +but a dance was a cooling draught to him. As for the little Marquise--when +she danced, she danced away with all those luckless hearts that were not +hers already. The orchestra launched the jubilant measures of the deux- +temps with a torrent of vivacity, and the girl's rhythmic flight answered +like a sail taking the breeze. + +There was one heart she had long since won which answered her every +movement. Flushed, rapturous, eyes sparkling, cheeks aglow, the small head +weaving through the throng like a golden shuttle--ah, did she know how +adorable she was! Was Tom right: is it the attainable unattainable to one +man and given to some other that leaves a deeper mark upon him than +success? At all events the unattainable was now like a hot sting in the +heart, but yet a sting more precious than a balm. The voice of Brainard +Macauley broke in: + +"A white brow and a long lash, a flushing cheek and a soft eye, a voice +that laughs and breaks and ripples in the middle of a word, a girl you +could put in your hat, Mr. Harkless--and there you have a strong man +prone! But I congratulate you on the manner your subordinates operate the +'Herald' during your absence. I understand you are making it a daily." + +Macauley was staring at him quizzically, and Harkless, puzzled, but +without resentment of the other's whimsey, could only decide that the +editor of the Rouen "Journal" was an exceedingly odd young man. All at +once he found Meredith and the girl herself beside him; they had stopped +before the dance was finished. He had the impulse to guard himself from +new blows as a boy throws up his elbow to ward a buffet, and, although he +could not ward with his elbow, for his heart was on his sleeve--where he +began to believe that Macauley had seen it--he remembered that he could +smile with as much intentional mechanism as any wornout rounder of +afternoons. He stepped aside for her, and she saw what she had known but +had not seen before, for the thickness of the crowd, and this was that he +limped and leaned upon his stick. + +"Do let me thank you," he said, with a louder echo of her manner of +greeting him, a little earlier. "It has been such a pleasure to watch you +dance. It is really charming to meet you here. If I return to Plattville I +shall surely remember to tell Miss Briscoe." + +At this she surprised him with a sudden, clear look in the eyes, so +reproachful, so deep, so sad, that he started. She took her flowers from +Macauley, who had the air of understanding the significance of such +ceremonies very well, and saying, "Shan't we all go out on the terrace?" +placed her arm in Harkless's, and conducted him (and not the others) to +the most secluded corner of the terrace, a nook illumined by one Japanese +lantern; to which spot it was his belief that he led her. She sank into a +chair, with the look of the girl who had stood by the blue tent-pole. He +could only stare at her, amazed by her abrupt change to this dazzling, if +reproachful, kindness, confused by his good fortune. + +"'_If_ you go back to Plattville!'" she said in a low voice. "What do you +mean?" + +"I don't know. I've been dull lately, and I thought I might go somewhere +else." Caught in a witchery no lack of possession could dispel, and which +the prospect of loss made only stronger while it lasted, he took little +thought of what he said; little thought of anything but of the gladness it +was to be with her again. + +"'Somewhere else?' Where?" + +"Anywhere." + +"Have you no sense of responsibility? What is to become of your paper?" + +"The 'Herald'? Oh, it will potter along, I think." + +"But what has become of it in your absence, already? Has it not +deteriorated very much?" + +"No," he said; "it's better than it ever was before." + +"What!" she cried, with a little gasp. + +"You're so astounded at my modesty?" + +"But please tell me what you mean," she said quickly. "What happened to +it?" + +"Isn't the 'Herald' rather a dull subject? I'll tell you how well Judge +Briscoe looked when he came to see me; or, rather, tell me of your summer +in the north." + +"No," she answered earnestly. "Don't you remember my telling you that I am +interested in newspaper work?" + +"I have even heard so from others," he said, with an instant of dryness. + +"Please tell me about the 'Herald'?" + +"It is very simple. Your friend, Mr. Fisbee, found a substitute, a +relative six feet high with his coat off, a traction engine for energy and +a limited mail for speed. He writes me letters on a type writer suffering +from an impediment in its speech; and in brief, he is an enterprising +idiot with a mania for work-baskets." + +Her face was in the shadow. + +"You say the--idiot--is enterprising?" she inquired. + +"Far more enterprising and far less idiot than I. They are looking for oil +down there, and when he came he knew less about oil than a kindergarten +babe, and spoke of 'boring for kerosene' in his first letter to me; but he +knows it all now, and writes long and convincing geological arguments. If +a well comes in, he is prepared to get out an extra! Perhaps you may +understand what that means in Plattville, with the 'Herald's' numerous +forces. I owe him everything, even the shares in the oil company, which he +has persuaded me to take. And he is going to dare to make the 'Herald' a +daily. Do you remember asking me why I had never done that? It seemed +rather a venture to try to compete with the Rouen papers in offering State +and foreign news, but this young Gulliver has tacked onto the Associated +Press, and means to print a quarto--that's eight pages, you know--once a +week, Saturday, and a double sheet, four pages, on other mornings. The +daily venture begins next Monday." + +"Will it succeed?" + +"Oh, no!" he laughed. + +"You think not?" Her interest in this dull business struck him as +astonishing, and yet in character with her as he had known her in +Plattville. Then he wondered unhappily if she thought that talking of the +"Herald" and learning things about the working of a country newspaper +would help her to understand Brainard Macauley. + +"Why have you let him go on with it?" she asked. "I suppose you have +encouraged him?" + +"Oh, yes, I encouraged him. The creature's recklessness fascinated me. A +dare-devil like that is always charming.'" + +"You think there is no chance for the creature's succeeding with the +daily?" + +"None," he replied indifferently. + +"You mentioned work-baskets, I think?" + +He laughed again. "I believe him to be the original wooden-nutmeg man. +Once a week he produces a 'Woman's Page,' wherein he presents to the +Carlow female public three methods for making currant jelly, three +receipts for the concoction of salads, and directs the ladies how to +manufacture a pretty work-basket out of odd scraps in twenty minutes. The +astonishing part of it is that he has not yet been mobbed by the women who +have followed his directions." + +"So you think the daily is a mistake and that your enterprising idiot +should be mobbed? Why?" She seemed to be taking him very seriously. + +"I think he may be--for his 'Woman's Page.'" + +"It is all wrong, you think?" + +"What could a Yankee six-footer cousin of old Fisbee's know about currant +jelly and work-baskets?" + +"You know about currant jelly and work-baskets yourself?" + +"Heaven defend the right, I do not!" + +"You are sure he is six feet?" + +"You should see his signature; that leaves no doubt. And, also, his +ability denotes his stature." + +"You believe that ability is in proportion to height, do you not?" There +was a dangerous luring in her tone. + +His memory recalled to him that he was treading on undermined ground, so +he hastened to say: "In inverse proportion." + +"Then your substitute is a failure. I see," she said, slowly. + +What muffled illumination there was in their nook fell upon his face; her +back was toward it, so that she was only an outline to him, and he would +have been startled and touched to the quick, could he have known that her +lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears as she spoke the last words. +He was happy as he had not been since his short June day; it was enough to +be with her again. Nothing, not even Brainard Macauley, could dull his +delight. And, besides, for a few minutes he had forgotten Brainard +Macauley. What more could man ask than to sit in the gloom with her, to +know that he was near her again for a little while, and to talk about +anything--if he talked at all? Nonsense and idle exaggeration about young +Fisbee would do as well as another thing. + +"The young gentleman is an exception," he returned. "I told you I owed +everything to him; my gratitude will not allow me to admit that his +ability is less than his stature. He suggested my purchase of a quantity +of Mr. Watts's oil stock when it was knocked flat on its back by two wells +turning out dry; but if Mr. Watts's third well comes in, and young Fisbee +has convinced me that it will, and if my Midas's extra booms the stock and +the boom develops, I shall oppose the income tax. Poor old Plattville will +be full of strangers and speculators, and the 'Herald' will advocate vast +improvements to impress the investor's eye. Stagnation and picturesqueness +will flee together; it is the history of the Indiana town. Already the +'Herald' is clamoring with Schofields' Henry--you remember the bell- +ringer?--for Main Street to be asphalted. It will all come. The only +trouble with young Fisbee is that he has too much ability." + +"And yet the daily will not succeed?" + +"No. That's too big a jump, unless my young man's expressions on the +tariff command a wide sale amongst curio-hunters." + +"Then he is quite a fool about political matters?" + +"Far from it; he is highly ingenious. His editorials are often the +subtlest cups of flattery I ever sipped, many of them showing assiduous +study of old files to master the method and notions of his eagle-eyed +predecessor. But the tariff seems to have got him. He is a very masculine +person, except for this one feminine quality, for, if I may say it without +ungallantry, there is a legend that no woman has ever understood the +tariff. Young Fisbee must be an extremely travelled person, because the +custom-house people have made an impression upon him which no few +encounters with them could explain, and he conceives the tariff to be a +law which discommodes a lady who has been purchasing gloves in Paris. He +thinks smuggling the great evil of the present tariff system; it is such a +temptation, so insidious a break-down of moral fibre. His views must edify +Carlow." + +She gave a quick, stifled cry. "Oh! there isn't a word of truth in what +you say! Not a word! I did not think you could be so cruel!" + +He bent forward, peering at her in astonishment. + +"Cruel!" + +"You know it is a hateful distortion--an exaggeration!" she exclaimed +passionately. "No man living could have so little sense as you say he has. +The tariff is perfectly plain to any child. When you were in Plattville +you weren't like this--I didn't know you were unkind!" + +"I--I don't understand, please----" + +"Miss Hinsdale has been talking--raving--to me about you! You may not know +it--though I suppose you do--but you made a conquest last night. It seems +a little hard on the poor young man who is at work for you in Plattville, +doing his best for you, plodding on through the hot days, and doing all he +knows how, while you sit listening to music in the evenings with Clara +Hinsdale, and make a mock of his work and his trying to please you----" + +"But I didn't mention him to Miss Hinsdale. In fact, I didn't mention +_anything_ to Miss Hinsdale. What have I done? The young man is making his +living by his work--and my living, too, for that matter. It only seems to +me that his tariff editorials are rather humorous." + +She laughed suddenly--ringingly. "Of course they are! How should I know? +Immensely humorous! And the good creature knows nothing beyond smuggling +and the custom-house and chalk marks? Why, even _I_--ha, ha, ha!--even +_I_--should have known better than that. What a little fool your +enterprising idiot must be!--with his work-baskets and currant jelly and +his trying to make the 'Herald' a daily!--It will be a ludicrous failure, +of course. No doubt he thought he was being quite wise, and was pleased +over his tariff editorials--his funny, funny editorials--his best--to +please you! Ha, ha, ha! How immensely funny!" + +"Do you know him?" he asked abruptly. + +"I have not the honor of the gentleman's acquaintance. Ah," she rejoined +bitterly, "I see what you mean; it is the old accusation, is it? I am a +woman, and I 'sound the personal note.' I could not resent a cruelty for +the sake of a man I do not know. But let it go. My resentment is personal, +after all, since it is against a man I do know--_you_!" + +He leaned toward her because he could not help it. "I'd rather have +resentment from you than nothing." + +"Then I will give you nothing," she answered quickly. + +"You flout me!" he cried. "That is better than resentment." + +"I hate you most, I think," she said with a tremulousness he did not +perceive, "when you say you do not care to go back to Plattville." + +"Did I say it?" + +"It is in every word, and it is true; you don't care to go back there." + +"Yes, it is true; I don't." + +"You want to leave the place where you do good; to leave those people who +love you, who were ready to die to avenge your hurt!" she exclaimed +vehemently. "Oh, I say that is shameful!" + +"Yes, I know," he returned gravely. "I am ashamed." + +"Don't say that!" she cried. "Don't say you are ashamed of it. Do you +suppose I do not understand the dreariness it has been for you? Don't you +know that I see it is a horror to you, that it brings back your struggle +with those beasts in the dark, and revivifies all your suffering, merely +to think of it?" Her turns and sudden contradictions left him tangled in +a maze; he could not follow, but must sit helpless to keep pace with her, +while the sheer happiness of being with her tingled through his veins. She +rose and took a step aside, then spoke again: "Well, since you want to +leave Carlow, you shall; since you do not wish to return, you need not.-- +Are you laughing at me?" She leaned toward him, and looked at him +steadily, with her face close to his. He was not laughing; his eyes shone +with a deep fire; in that nearness he hardly comprehended what she said. +"Thank you for not laughing," she whispered, and leaned back from him. "I +suppose you think my promises are quite wild, and they are. I do not know +what I was talking about, or what I meant, any better than you do. You may +understand some day. It is all--I mean that it hurts one to hear you say +you do not care for Carlow." She turned away. "Come." + +"Where?" + +"It is my turn to conclude the interview. You remember, the last time it +was you who--" She broke off, shuddering, and covered her face with her +hands. "Ah, that!" she exclaimed. "I did not think--I did not mean to +speak of that miserable, miserable night. And _I_ to be harsh with you for +not caring to go back to Carlow!" + +"Your harshness," he laughed. "A waft of eider." + +"We must go," she said. He did not move, but sat staring at her like a +thirsty man drinking. With an impulsive and pretty gesture she reached +out her hand to him. Her little, white glove trembled in the night before +his eyes, and his heart leaped to meet its sudden sweet generosity; his +thin fingers closed over it as he rose, and then that hand he had likened +to a white butterfly lay warm and light and quiet in his own. And as they +had so often stood together in their short day and their two nights of the +moon, so now again they stood with a serenading silence between them. A +plaintive waltz-refrain from the house ran through the blue woof of +starlit air as a sad-colored thread through the tapestry of night; they +heard the mellow croon of the 'cello and the silver plaints of violins, +the chiming harp, and the triangle bells, all woven into a minor strain of +dance-music that beat gently upon their ears with such suggestion of the +past, that, as by some witchcraft of hearing, they listened to music made +for lovers dancing, and lovers listening, a hundred years ago. + +"I care for only one thing in this world," he said, tremulously. "Have I +lost it? I didn't mean to ask you, that last night, although you answered. +Have I no chance? Is it still the same? Do I come too late?" + +The butterfly fluttered in his hand and then away. + +She drew back and looked at him a moment. + +"There is one thing you must always understand," she said gently, "and +that is that a woman can be grateful. I give you all the gratitude there +is in me, and I think I have a great deal; it is all yours. Will you +always remember that?" + +"Gratitude? What can there--" + +"You do not understand now, but some day you will. I ask you to remember +that my every act and thought which bore reference to you--and there have +been many--came from the purest gratitude. Although you do not see it now, +will you promise to believe it?" + +"Yes," he said simply. + +"For the rest--" She paused. "For the rest--I do not love you." + +He bowed his head and did not lift it. + +"Do you understand?" she asked. + +"I understand," he answered, quietly. + +She looked at him long, and then, suddenly, her hand to her heart, gave a +little, pitying, tender cry and moved toward him. At this he raised his +head and smiled sadly. "No; don't you mind," he said. "It's all right. I +was such a cad the other time I needed to be told; I was so entirely silly +about it, I couldn't face the others to tell them good-night, and I left +you out there to go in to them alone. I didn't realize, for my manners +were all gone. I'd lived in a kind of stupor, I think, for a long time; +then being with you was like a dream, and the sudden waking was too much +for me. I've been ashamed often, since, in thinking of it--and I was well +punished for not taking you in. I thought only of myself, and I behaved +like a whining, unbalanced boy. But I had whined from the moment I met +you, because I was sickly with egoism and loneliness and self-pity. I'm +keeping you from the dancing. Won't you let me take you back to the +house?" + +A commanding and querulous contralto voice was heard behind them, and a +dim, majestic figure appeared under the Japanese lantern. + +"Helen?" + +The girl turned quickly. "Yes, mamma." + +"May I ask you to return to the club-house for supper with me? Your father +has been very much worried about you. We have all been looking for you." + +"Mamma, this is Mr. Harkless." + +"How do you do?" The lady murmured this much so far under her breath that +the words might have been mistaken for anything else--most plausibly, +perhaps, for, "Who cares if it is?"--nor further did she acknowledge +John's profound inclination. Frigidity and complaint of ill-usage made a +glamour in every fold of her expensive garments; she was large and +troubled and severe. A second figure emerged from behind her and bowed +with the suave dignity that belonged to Brainard Macauley. "Mr. Macauley +has asked to sit at our table," Mrs. Sherwood said to Helen. "May I beg +you to come at once? Your father is holding places for us." + +"Certainly," she answered. "I will follow you with Mr. Harkless." + +"I think Mr. Harkless will excuse you," said the elder lady. "He has an +engagement. Mr. Meredith has been looking everywhere for him to take Miss +Hinsdale out to supper." + +"Good-night, Miss Sherwood," said John in a cheerful voice. "I thank you +for sitting out the dance with me." + +"Good-night," she said, and gave him her hand. "I'm so sorry I shan't see +you again; I am only in Rouen for this evening, or I should ask you to +come to see me. I am leaving to-morrow morning. Good-night.--Yes, mamma." + +The three figures went toward the bright lights of the club-house. She was +leaning on Macauley's arm and chatting gaily, smiling up at him brightly. +John watched her till she was lost in the throng on the veranda. There, in +the lights, where waiters were arranging little tables, every one was +talking and moving about, noisily, good-humored and happy. There was a +flourish of violins, and then the orchestra swung into a rampant march +that pranced like uncurbed cavalry; it stirred the blood of old men with +militant bugle calls and blast of horns; it might have heralded the +chariot of a flamboyant war god rioting out of sunrise, plumed with youth. +Some quite young men on the veranda made as if they were restive horses +champing at the bit and heading a procession, and, from a group near by, +loud laughter pealed. + +John Harkless lifted to his face the hand that had held hers; there was +the faint perfume of her glove. He kissed his own hand. Then he put that +hand and the other to his forehead, and sank into her chair. + +"Let me get back," he said. "Let me get back to Plattville, where I +belong." + +Tom Meredith came calling him. "Harkless? John Harkless?" + +"Here I am, Tom." + +"Come along, boy. What on earth are you doing out here all alone? I +thought you were with--I thought some people were with you. You're bored +to death, I know; but come along and be bored some more, because I +promised to bring you in for supper. Then we'll go home. They've saved a +place for you by Miss Hinsdale." + +"Very well, lad," answered Harkless, and put his hand on the other's +shoulder. "Thank you." + +The next day he could not leave his bed; his wounds were feverish and his +weakness had returned. Meredith was shaken with remorse because he had let +him wander around in the damp night air with no one to look after him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +HELEN'S TOAST + +Judge Briscoe was sitting out under the afternoon sky with his chair +tilted back and his feet propped against the steps. His coat was off, and +Minnie sat near at hand sewing a button on the garment for him, and she +wore that dreamy glaze that comes over women's eyes when they sew for +other people. + +From the interior of the house rose and fell the murmur of a number of +voices engaged in a conversation, which, for a time, seemed to consist of +dejected monosyllables; but presently the judge and Minnie heard Helen's +voice, clear, soft, and trembling a little with excitement. She talked +only two or three minutes, but what she said stirred up a great commotion. +All the voices burst forth at once in ejaculations--almost shouts; but +presently they were again subdued and still, except for the single soft +one, which held forth more quietly, but with a deeper agitation, than any +of the others. + +"You needn't try to bamboozle me," said the judge in a covert tone to his +daughter, and with a glance at the parlor window, whence now issued the +rumble of Warren Smith's basso. "I tell you that girl would follow John +Harkless to Jericho." + +Minnie shook her head mysteriously, and bit a thread with a vague frown. + +"Well, why not?" asked the judge crossly. + +"Why wouldn't she have him, then?" + +"Well, who knows he's asked her yet?" + +Minnie screamed derisively at the density of man, "What made him run off +that way, the night he was hurt? Why didn't he come back in the house with +her?" + +"Pshaw!" + +"Don't you suppose a woman understands?" + +"Meaning that you know more about it than I do, I presume," grunted the +old gentleman. + +"Yes, father," she replied, smiling benignantly upon him. + +"Did she tell you?" he asked abruptly. + +"No, no. I guess the truth is that women don't know more than men so much +as they see more; they understand more without having to read about it." + +"That's the way of it, is it?" he laughed. "Well, it don't make any +difference, she'll have him some time." + +"No, father; it's only gratitude." + +"Gratitude!" The judge snorted scornfully. "Girls don't do as much as +she's done for him out of gratitude. _Look_ what she's doing; not only +running the 'Herald' for him, but making it a daily, and a good daily at +that. First time I saw her I knew right away she was the smartest girl I +ever laid eyes on;--I expect she must have got it from her mother. +Gratitude! Pooh! Look how she's studied his interests, and watched like a +cat for chances for him in everything. Didn't she get him into Eph Watts's +company? She talked to Watts and the other fellows, day after day, and +drove around their leased land with 'em, and studied it up, and got on the +inside, and made him buy. Now, if they strike it--and she's sure they +will, and _I_'m sure she knows when to have faith in a thing--why, they'll +sell out to the Standard, and they can all quit work for the rest of their +lives if they want to; and Harkless gets as much as any without lifting a +finger, all because he had a little money--mighty little, too--laid up in +bank and a girl that saw where to put it. She did that for him, didn't +she?" + +"Don't you see what fun it's been for her?" returned Minnie. "She's been +having the best time she ever had; I never knew any one half so happy." + +"Yes; she went up and saw him at that party, and she knows he's still +thinking about her. I shouldn't be surprised if he asked her then, and +that's what makes her so gay." + +"Well, she couldn't have said 'yes,' because he went back to his bed the +next day, and he's been there most of the time since." + +"Pshaw! He wasn't over his injuries, and he was weak and got malaria." + +"Well, she couldn't be so happy while he's sick, if she cared very much +about him." + +"He's not very sick. She's happy because she's working for him, and she +knows his illness isn't serious. He'll be a well man when she says the +word. He's love-sick, that's what he is; I never saw a man so taken down +with it in my life." + +"Then it isn't malaria?" Minnie said, with a smile of some superiority. + +"You're just like your poor mother," the old gentleman answered, growing +rather red. "She never could learn to argue. What I say is that Helen +cares about him, whether she says she does or not, whether she acts like +it or not--or whether she thinks she does or not," he added irascibly. "Do +you know what she's doing for him to-day?" + +"Not exactly." + +"Well, when they were talking together at that party, he said something +that made her think he was anxious to get away from Plattville--you're not +to repeat this, child; she told me, relying on my discretion." + +"Well?" + +"Do you know why she's got these men to come here to-day to meet her-- +Warren Smith and Landis and Homer, and Boswell and young Keating of Amo, +and Tom Martin and those two fellows from Gaines County?" + +"Something about politics, isn't it?" + +"'Something about politics!'" he echoed. "I should say it is! Wait till +it's done, and this evening I'll tell you--if you can keep a secret." + +Minnie set her work-basket on the steps. "Oh, I guess I can keep a +secret," she said. "But it won't make any difference." + +"You mean you've said it, and you'll stick to it that it's gratitude till +their wedding day." + +"She knows he gave her father something to do, and helped him in other +ways, when no one else did." + +"I know all about that. She reproaches herself for having neglected Fisbee +while a stranger took care of him, and saved him from starving--and worse. +She's unreasonable about it; she didn't know he was in want till long +after. That's just like Fisbee, to tell her, afterwards. He didn't tell +her how low he got; but he hinted at it to her, and I guess she +understood; I gathered that much from him. Of course she's grateful, but +gratefulness don't account for everything." + +"Yes it does." + +"Well, I never expected to have the last word with a woman." + +"Well, you needn't," said Minnie. + +"I don't. I never do," he retorted. She did not answer, but hummed a +little tune and looked up at the tree-tops. + +Warren Smith appeared in the doorway. "Judge," he said, "will you step +inside? We need you." + +Briscoe nodded and rose at once. As he reached the door, Minnie said in a +piercing whisper: + +"It's hard to be sure about her, but I'm right; it's gratitude." + +"There," he replied, chuckling, "I thought I shouldn't have the last +word." Minnie began to sing, and the judge, after standing in the doorway +till he was again summoned from within, slowly retired. + + + +Briscoe had persisted in his own explanation of Helen's gaiety; +nevertheless he did not question his daughter's assumption that the young +lady was enjoying her career in Carlow. She was free as a bird to go and +come, and her duties and pleasures ran together in a happy excitement. Her +hands were full of work, but she sought and increased new tasks, and +performed them also. She came to Carlow as unused to the soil as was +Harkless on his arrival, and her educational equipment for the work was +far less than his; her experience, nothing. But both were native to the +State; and the genius of the American is adaptability, and both were +sprung from pioneers whose means of life depended on that quality. + +There are, here and there, excrescent individuals who, through stock +decadence, or their inability to comprehend republican conditions, are not +assimilated by the body of the country; but many of these are imports, +while some are exports. Our foreign-born agitators now and then find +themselves removed by the police to institutions of routine, while the +romantic innocents who set up crests in the face of an unimpressionable +democracy are apt to be lured by their own curious ambitions, or those of +their women-folk, to spend a great part of their time in or about the +villas of Albion, thus paid for its perfidy; and, although the anarchists +and the bubble-hunters make a noise, it is enormously out of proportion to +their number, which is relatively very small, and neither the imported nor +the exported article can be taken as characteristic of our country. For +the American is one who soon fits any place, or into any shaped hole in +America, where you can set him down. It may be that without going so far +as to suggest the halls of the great and good and rich, one might mention +a number of houses of entertainment for man and beast in this country, in +which Mr. Martin of the Plattville Dry Goods Emporium would find himself +little at ease. But even in the extreme case, if Mr. Martin were given his +choice of being burned to death, or drowned, or of spending a month at the +most stupendously embellished tavern located in our possessions, and +supposing him to have chosen the third alternate, it is probable that he +would have grown almost accustomed to his surroundings before he died; and +if he survived the month, we may even fancy him really enjoying moments of +conversation with the night-clerks. + +As Mr. Parker observed, Miss Sherwood did not do the Grand Duchess, giving +the Carlow tenants a treat. She felt no duchess symptoms within herself, +and though, of course, she had various manners tucked away to wear as one +suits garments to occasions--and it was a Rouen "party-gown" wherewith she +chose to abash poor John Harkless at their meeting--here in Carlow, she +was a woman of affairs, lively, shrewd, engaging, capable; she was herself +(at least she was that side of herself). And it should be explained that +Harkless had based his calumny regarding the tariff on a paragraph or two +that crept inadvertently into an otherwise statesmanlike article, and that +"H. Fisbee" understood the tariff as well as any woman who ever lived. But +the tariff inspired no more articles from that pen. + +Rodney McCune had lifted his head, and those who had followed his stricken +enemy felt that the cause was lost, without the leader. The old ring that +the "Herald" had crushed was a ring once more, and the heelers had +rallied--"the boys were in line again." The work had been done quietly, +and Halloway was already beaten, and beaten badly. John Harkless lay sick, +and Rodney McCune would sit in Congress, for the nomination meant +election. But one day the Harkless forces, demoralized, broken, almost +hopeless, woke up to find that they had a leader. Many of them were +content with the belief that this was a young lawyer named Keating, who +had risen up in Amo; but Mr. Keating himself had a different impression. + +Helen was a little nervous, and very much excited, over the political +conference at Judge Briscoe's. She planned it with careful diplomacy, and +arranged the details with a fine sense of the dramatic. There was a +suggestion she desired to have made in this meeting, which she wished +should emanate from the Amo and Gaines County people, instead of +proceeding from Carlow--for she thought it better to make the outsiders +believe her idea an inspiration of their own--so she made a little comedy +and provided for Briscoe's entrance at an effective moment. The judge was +a substantial influence, strong in the councils of his party when he chose +to be; and though of late years he had contented himself with voting at +the polls, every one knew what weight he carried when he saw fit to bestir +himself. + +When he entered the parlor, he found the politicians in a state of subdued +excitement. Helen sat by the window, blushing, and talking eagerly to old +Fisbee. One of the gentlemen from Gaines County was walking about the room +exclaiming, "A glorious conception! A glorious conception!" addressing the +bric-a-brac, apparently. (He thought the conception his own.) Mr. Martin +was tugging at his beard and whispering to Landis and Homer, and the two +Amo men were consulting in a corner, but as the judge came in, one of them +turned and said loudly, "That's the man." + +"What man am I, Keating?" asked Briscoe, cheerily. + +"We better explain, I guess," answered the other; and turning to his +compatriot: "You tell him, Boswell." + +"Well--it's this way--" said Boswell, and came at once to an awkward +pause, turning aside sheepishly and unable to proceed. + +"So that's the way of it, is it?" said the old gentleman. + +Helen laughed cheerfully, and looked about her with a courageous and +encouraging eye. "It is embarrassing," she said. "Judge Briscoe, we are +contemplating 'a piece of the blackest treachery and chicanery.' We are +going to give Mr. Halloway the--the go-by!" The embarrassment fell away, +and everybody began to talk at once. + +"Hold on a minute," said the judge; "let's get at it straight. What do you +want with me?" + +"I'll tell you," volunteered Keating. "You see, the boys are getting in +line again for this convention. They are the old file that used to rule +the roost before the 'Herald' got too strong for them, and they rely on +Mr. Harkless's being sick to beat Kedge Halloway with that Gaines County +man, McCune. Now, none of us here want Rod McCune I guess. We had trouble +enough once with him and his heelers, and now that Mr. Harkless is down, +they've taken advantage of it to raise a revolution: Rod McCune for +Congress! He's a dirty-hearted swindler--I hope Miss Sherwood will pardon +the strong expression--and everybody thought the 'Herald' had driven him +out of politics, though it never told how it did it; but he's up on top +again. Now, the question is to beat him. We hold the committees, but the +boys have been fighting the committees--call 'em the 'Harkless Ring,' and +never understood that the 'Herald' would have turned us down in a second +if it thought we weren't straight. Well, we saw a week ago that Kedge +Halloway was going to lose to McCune; we figured it out pretty exactly, +and there ain't a ray of hope for Kedge. We wrote to Mr. Harkless about +it, and asked him to come down--if he'd been on the ground last Monday and +had begun to work, I don't say but what his personal influence might have +saved Halloway--but a friend of his, where he's staying, answered the +letter: said Mr. Harkless was down with a relapse and was very fretful; +and he'd taken the liberty of reading the letter and temporarily +suppressing it under doctor's orders; they were afraid he'd come, sick as +he was, from a sense of duty, and asked us to withdraw the letter, and +referred us to Mr. Harkless's representative on the 'Herald.' So we +applied here to Miss Sherwood, and that's why we had this meeting. Now, +Halloway is honest--everybody knows that--and I don't say but what he's +been the best available material Mr. Harkless had to send to Washington; +but he ain't any too bright----" + +Mr. Martin interrupted the speaker. "I reckon, maybe, you never heard that +lecture of his on the Past, Present, and Future'?" + +"Besides that," Keating continued, "Halloway has had it long enough, and +he's got enough glory out of it, and, except for getting beat by Rod +McCune, I believe he'd almost as soon give it up. Well, we discussed all +this and that, and couldn't come to any conclusion. We didn't want to keep +on with a losing fight if there was any way to put up a winner, though of +course we all recognized that Mr. Harkless would want us to support Kedge +to the death, and that's what he'd do if he was on the ground. But Miss +Sherwood mentioned that she'd had one note since his last illness began, +and he'd entrusted her and her associates on the paper with the entire +policy, and she would take the responsibility for anything we determined +on. Mr. Smith said the only thing to do was to give up Halloway and get a +man that could beat McCune; Kedge would recognize it himself, that that +was the only thing to do, and he could retire gracefully. Miss Sherwood +said she was still more or less a stranger, and asked what man we could +find who was strong enough to do it by popularity alone and who was also a +man we wanted; somebody that had worked a good deal, but had never had any +office. It was to such a man she could promise the 'Herald's' support, as +for a time the paper was being operated almost independently, it might be +said, of Mr. Harkless. Well, I expect it came to all of us at the same +time, but it was Mr. Bence here that said it first." + +Mr. Bence was the gentleman who had walked about saying "A glorious +conception," and he now thrust one hand into his breast and extended the +other in a wide gesture, and looked as impressive as a very young man with +white eyebrows can look. + +"The name of Harkless," he said abruptly, "the name of Harkless will sweep +the convention like the fire of a Western prairie; the name of Harkless +will thunder over their astonished heads and strike a peal of joy bells in +every home in the district; it will re-echo in the corridors of posterity +and teem with prosperity like a mighty river. The name of Harkless will +reverberate in that convention hall, and they shall sit ashamed." + +"Harkless!" exclaimed the judge. "Why didn't some one think of that long +ago?" + +"Then you approve?" asked Keating. + +"Yes, I think I do!" + +The Amo man shook hands with him. "We'll swim out," he exclaimed. "It will +be the same everywhere. A lot of the old crowd themselves will be swept +along with us when we make our nomination. People feel that that Cross- +Roads business ought never to have been allowed to happen, and they'd like +to make it up to him some way. There are just two difficulties, Halloway +and Mr. Harkless himself. It's a sure thing that he wouldn't come out +against Kedge and that he'd refuse to let his name be used against him. +Therefore, we've got to keep it quiet from him; the whole thing has to be +worked quietly. The McCune folks were quiet until they thought they were +sure; we've got to be quieter still. Well, we've made out a plan." + +"And a plan that will operate," added Mr. Bence. "For the name of Harkless +shall--" Mr. Keating interrupted him energetically: + +"We explain it to all the Halloway delegates, you see, and to all the +shaky McCune people, and interview all the undecided ones. The McCune +crowd may see them afterwards, but they can't fix men in this district +against John Harkless. All we've got to do is to pass the word. It's all +kept quiet, you understand. We go into the convention, and the names of +Halloway and McCune are placed before it. Then will come a speech naming +Harkless--and you want to stuff your ears with cotton! On the first ballot +Harkless gets the scattering vote that was going to nominate McCune if +we'd let things run, and Halloway is given every vote he'd have got if +he'd run against McCune alone; it's as a compliment; it will help him see +how things were, afterwards; and on the second ballot his vote goes to +Harkless. There won't be any hitch if we get down to work right off; it's +a mighty short campaign, but we've got big chances. Of course, it can't be +helped that Halloway has to be kept in the dark; he won't spend any money, +anyway." + +"It looks a little underhanded at first glance," said Warren Smith; "but, +as Miss Sherwood said, you've got to be a little underhanded sometimes, +especially when you're dealing with as scrupulous a man as John Harkless. +But it's a perfectly honest deal, and it will be all right with him when +he finds it's all over and he's nominated." + +"It's a plain case," added Boswell. "We want him, and we've got to have +him." + +"There's one danger," Mr. Keating continued. "Kedge Halloway is honest, +but I believe he's selfish enough to disturb his best friend's deathbed +for his own ends, and it's not unlikely that he will get nervous towards +the last and be telegraphing Harkless to have himself carried on a cot to +the convention to save him. That wouldn't do at all, of course, and Miss +Sherwood thinks maybe there'd be less danger if we set the convention a +little ahead of the day appointed. It's dangerous, because it shortens our +time; but we can fix it for three days before the day we'd settled on, and +that will bring it to September 7th. What we want of you, judge, is to go +to the convention as a delegate, and make the nominating speech for Mr. +Harkless. Will you do it?" + +"Do it?" cried the old man, and he struck the table a resounding blow with +his big fist. "Do it? I'd walk from here to Rouen and back again to do +it!" + +They were all on their feet at this, and they pressed forward to shake +Briscoe's hand, congratulating him and each other as though they were +already victorious. Mr. Martin bent over Helen and asked her if she minded +shaking hands with a man who had voted for Shem at the first election in +the Ark. + +"I thought I'd rightly ort to thank you for finishin' off Kedge Halloway," +he added. "I made up my mind I'd never vote for him again, the night he +killed that intellectual insect of his." + +"Intellectual insect, Mr. Martin?" she asked, puzzled. + +He sighed. "The recollection never quits ha'ntin' me. I reckon I haven't +had a restful night since June. Maybe you don't remember his lecture." + +"Oh, but I do," she laughed; "and I remember the story of the fly, +vividly." + +"I never was jest what you might exactly call gushin' over Kedge," Mr. +Martin drawled. "He doesn't strike me as havin' many ideas, precisely--he +had kind of a symptom of one once, that he caught from Harkless, but it +didn't take; it sloshed around in his mind and never really come out on +him. I always thought his brain was sort of syrupy. Harkless thought there +was fruit in it, and I reckon there is; but some way it never seems to +jell." + +"Go on," said Helen gayly. "I want to hear him abused. It helps me to feel +less mean about the way we are treating him." + +"Yes; I'm slickin' over my conscience, too. I feel awnrier about it +because he done me a good turn once, in the Hayes and Wheeler campaign. I +went to a meetin' to hear him speak, and he got sick and couldn't." + +Warren Smith addressed the company. "Well, is this all for the present?" +he asked. "Is everything settled?" + +"Wait a minute," said Keating. "I'd like to hear from the 'Herald' about +its policy, if Miss Sherwood will tell us." + +"Yes, indeed," she answered. "It will be very simple. Don't you think +there is only one course to pursue? We will advocate no one very +energetically, but we will print as much of the truth about Mr. McCune as +we can, with delicacy and honor, in this case, but, as I understand it, +the work is almost all to be done amongst the delegates. We shall not +mention our plan at all--but--but, when the convention is over, and he is +nominated, we will get out an extra; and I am so confident of your success +that I'll tell you now that the extra will be ready the night before the +convention. We will contrive that Mr. Harkless shall not receive his copy +of the paper containing the notice of the change of date, and I think the +chance of his seeing it in any Rouen paper may be avoided. That is all, I +think." + +"Thank you," said Keating. "That is certainly the course to follow." Every +one nodded, or acquiesced in words; and Keating and Bence came over to +Helen and engaged her in conversation. The others began to look about for +their hats, vaguely preparing to leave. + +"Wait a minute," said the judge. "There's no train due just now." And +Minnie appeared in the doorway with a big pitcher of crab-apple cider, +rich and amber-hued, sparkling, cold, and redolent of the sweet-smelling +orchard where it was born. Behind Miss Briscoe came Mildy Upton with +glasses and a fat, shaking, four-storied jelly-cake on a second tray. The +judge passed his cigars around, and the gentlemen took them blithely, then +hesitatingly held them in their fingers and glanced at the ladies, +uncertain of permission. + +"Let me get you some matches," Helen said, quickly, and found a box on the +table and handed it to Keating. Every one sat beaming, and fragrant veils +of smoke soon draped the room. + +"Why do you call her 'Miss Sherwood'?" Boswell whispered in Keating's ear. + +"That's her name." + +"Ain't she the daughter of that old fellow over there by the window? Ain't +her name Fisbee?" + +"No; she's his daughter, but her legal name's Sherwood; she's an adop----" + +"Great Scott! I know all about that. I'd like to know if there's a man, +woman, or child in this part of the country that doesn't. I guess it won't +be Fisbee or Sherwood either very long. She can easy get a new name, +_that_ lady! And if she took a fancy to Boswell, why, I'm a bach----" + +"I expect she won't take a fancy to Boswell very early," said Keating. +"They say it will be Harkless." + +"Go 'way," returned Mr. Boswell. "What do you want to say that for? Can't +you bear for anybody to be happy a minute or two, now and then?" + +Warren Smith approached Helen and inquired if it would be asking too much +if they petitioned her for some music; so she went to the piano, and sang +some darky songs for them, with a quaint suggestion of the dialect--two or +three old-fashioned negro melodies of Foster's, followed by some +rollicking modern imitations with the movement and spirit of a tinshop +falling down a flight of stairs. Her audience listened in delight from the +first; but the latter songs quite overcame them with pleasure and +admiration, and before she finished, every head in the room was jogging +from side to side, and forward and back, in time to the music, while every +foot shuffled the measures on the carpet. + +When the gentlemen from out of town discovered that it was time to leave +if they meant to catch their train, Helen called to them to wait, and they +gathered about her. + +"Just one second," she said, and she poured all the glasses full to the +brim; then, standing in the centre of the circle they made around her, she +said: + +"Before you go, shan't we pledge each other to our success in this good, +home-grown Indiana cider, that leaves our heads clear and our arms strong? +If you will--then--" She began to blush furiously and her voice trembled, +but she lifted the glass high over her head and cried bravely, "Here's to +'Our Candidate'!" + +The big men, towering over her, threw back their heads and quaffed the +gentle liquor to the last drop. Then they sent up the first shout of the +campaign, and cheered John Harkless till the rafters rang. + +"My friends," said Mr. Keating, as he and Boswell and the men from Gaines +drove away in Judd Bennett's omnibus, "my friends, here is where I begin +the warmest hustling I ever did. I want Harkless, everybody wants him----" + +"It is a glorious idea," said Mr. Bence. "The name of Harkless----" + +Keating drowned the oratory. "But that isn't all. That little girl wants +him to go to Congress, and that settles it. He goes." + +That evening Minnie and her father were strolling up and down the front +walk together, between the flowered borders. + +"Do you give up?" asked the judge. + +"Give up what? No!" returned his daughter. + +"She hasn't told you?" + +"Not yet; she and Mr. Fisbee left for the office right after those men +went." + +"Haven't you discovered what the 'something about politics' she's doing +for him is? Did you understand what she meant by 'Our Candidate'?" + +"Not exactly." + +"Did you see her blush when she proposed that toast?" + +"Yes. So would anybody--with all those men, and their eyes hanging out on +their cheeks!" + +"Pooh! She got up the whole show. Do you know why?" + +"I only know it's politics." + +"Politics!" He glanced over his shoulder, and then, leaning toward her, he +said, in a low tone: "I'll tell you in confidence, Minnie; she's sending +him to Congress!" + +"Ah!" she cried triumphantly. "If she loved him she wouldn't do _that_, +would she?" + +"Minnie!" Briscoe turned upon her sternly. "I don't want to hear any more +talk like that. It's the way with some papers to jibe at our great +institutions, and you've been reading them; that's the trouble with you. +The only criticism any one has any business making against Congress is +that it's too good for some of the men we send there. Congress is our +great virtue, understand; the congressmen are our fault." + +"I didn't mean anything like that," protested the girl. "I haven't been +reading any papers except the 'Herald.' I meant why should she send him +away if she cared about him?" + +"She'll go with him." + +"They couldn't both go. What would become of the 'Herald'?" + +"They'd fix that easy enough; there are plenty of smart young fellows in +Rouen they could get to run it while they are in Washington." + +"Mr. Harkless is sure to be elected, is he?" + +"He is, if he's nominated." + +"Can't he get the nomination?" + +"Get it! Nobody ever happened to think of him for it till it came into +_her_ head; and the only thing I look to see standing in the way of it is +Harkless himself; but I expect we can leave it to her to manage, and I +guess she will. She's got more diplomacy than Blaine. Kedge Halloway is up +the spout all right, but they want to keep it quiet; that's why she had +them come here instead of the office." + +"She wouldn't marry him a minute sooner because he went to Congress," said +Minnie thoughtfully. + +"You're giving up," he exclaimed. "You know I'm right." + +"Wait and see. It might--No, you're wrong as wrong can be! I wish you +weren't. Don't you see? You're blind. She _couldn't_ do all these things +for him if she loved him. That's the very proof itself. I suppose you-- +well, you can't understand." + +"I'll tell you one thing," he returned. "If she doesn't, the rest of it +won't amount to a rip with John Harkless." + +"Yes, it will. Nobody could help liking to find himself as big a man as +he'll be when he comes back here. Besides, don't you see, it's her way of +making it up to him for not liking him as much as he wants. _You_ give up, +don't you?" + +"No," he cried, with feeble violence, "I don't. She'll find out some +things about herself when she sees him again." + +Minnie shook her head. + +There was a sound of wheels; the buckboard drew up at the gate, and Helen, +returning from her evening's labor, jumped out lightly, and ran around to +pat the horses' heads. "Thank you so much, Mr. Willetts," she said to the +driver. "I know you will handle the two delegates you are to look after as +well as you do the judge's team; and you ought to, you know, because the +delegates are men. You dears!" She stroked the sleek necks of the colts +and handed them bunches of grass. + +Briscoe came out, and let the friendly animals nose his shoulder as he +looked gravely down on the piquant face beside him in the dusk. "Young +lady," he said, "go East. Wait till we get on to Washington, and sit in +the gallery, and see John Harkless rise up in his place, and hear the +Speaker say: 'The Gentleman from Indiana!' I know the chills would go up +and down my spine, and I guess you'd feel pretty well paid for your day's +work. I guess we all would." + +"Aren't you tired, Helen?" asked Minnie, coming to her in the darkness and +clasping her waist. + +"Tired? No; I'm happy. Did you ever see the stars so bright?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +THE TREACHERY OF H. FISBEE + +An Indiana town may lie asleep a long time, but there always comes a day +when it wakes up; and Plattville had wakened in August when the "Herald" +became a daily and Eph Watts struck oil. It was then that history began to +be made. The "Herald" printed News, and the paper was sold every morning +at stands in all the towns in that section of the State. Its circulation +tripled. Parker talked of new presses; two men were added to his staff, +and a reporter was brought from Rouen to join Mr. Fisbee. The "Herald" +boomed the oil-field; people swarmed into town; the hotel was crowded; +strangers became no sensation whatever. A capitalist bought the whole +north side of the Square to erect new stores, and the Carlow Bank began +the construction of a new bank building of Bedford stone on Main Street. +Then it was whispered, next affirmed, that the "Herald" had succeeded in +another of its enterprises, and Main Street was to be asphalted. That was +the end of the "old days" of Plattville. + +There was a man who had laid the foundation upon which the new Plattville +was to be built; he who, through the quiet labor of years, had stamped his +spirit upon the people, as their own was stamped upon him; but he lay sick +in his friend's house and did not care. One day Meredith found him propped +up in bed, reading a letter--reading it listlessly, and with a dull eye. + +"PLATTVILLE, _September 1st_. + +"_Dear Mr. Harkless_: Yours of the 30th received. Every one here is very +glad to know that your health is so far improved as to admit of your +writing; and it is our strongest hope that you will soon be completely +recovered. + +"New subscriptions are coming in at a slightly advanced rate since my last +letter; you will see they are distributed over several counties, when you +examine the books on your return; and I am glad to state that with our +arrangement for Gainesville the 'Herald' is now selling every morning at a +prominent store in all the towns within the radius we determined on. Our +plan of offering the daily with no advance on the price of the former +tri-weekly issue proves a success. I now propose making the issue a quarto +every day (at the same price) instead of once a week. I think our +experience warrants the experiment. It is my belief that our present +circulation will be increased forty per cent. Please advise me if you +approve. Of course this would mean a further increase of our working +force, and we should have to bring another man from Rouen--possibly two +more--but I think we need not fear such enlargements. + +"I should tell you that I have taken you at your word entrusting me with +the entire charge of your interests here, and I had the store-room +adjoining the office put in shape, and offered it to the telegraph company +for half the rent they were paying in their former quarters over the +post-office. They have moved in; and this, in addition to giving us our +despatches direct, is a reduction of expense. + +"Mr. Watts informs me that the Standard's offer is liberal and the terms +are settled. The boom is not hollow, it is simply an awakening; and the +town, so long a dependent upon the impetus of agriculture or its trade, is +developing a prosperity of its own on other lines as well. Strangers come +every day; oil has lubricated every commercial joint. Contracts have been +let for three new brick business buildings to be erected on the east side +of the Square. The value of your Main Street frontage will have doubled by +December, and possibly you may see fit to tear away the present building +and put up another, instead; the investment might be profitable. The +'Herald' could find room on the second and third floors, and the first +could be let to stores. + +"I regret that you find your copy of the paper for the 29th overlooked in +the mail and that your messenger could find none for you at the newspaper +offices in Rouen. Mr. Schofield was given directions in regard to +supplying you with the missing issue at once. + +"I fear that you may have had difficulty in deciphering some of my former +missives, as I was unfamiliar with the typewriter when I took charge of +the 'Herald'; however, I trust that you find my later letters more +legible. + +"The McCune people are not worrying us; we are sure to defeat them. The +papers you speak of were found by Mr. Parker in your trunk, and are now in +my hands. + +"I send with this a packet of communications and press clippings +indicative of the success of the daily, and in regard to other +innovations. The letters from women commendatory of our 'Woman's Page,' +thanking us for various house-keeping receipts, etc., strike me as +peculiarly interesting, as I admit that a 'Woman's Page' is always a +difficult matter for a man to handle without absurdity. + +"Please do not think I mean to plume myself upon our various successes; we +attempted our innovations and enlargements at just the right time--a time +which you had ripened by years of work and waiting, and at the moment when +you had built up the reputation of the 'Herald' to its highest point. +Everything that has been done is successful only because you paved the +way, and because every one knows it is your paper; and the people believe +that whatever your paper does is interesting and right. + +"Trusting that your recovery will be rapid, I am + +"Yours truly, + +"H. FISBEE." + +Harkless dropped the typewritten sheets with a sigh. + +"I suppose I ought to get well," he said wearily. + +"Yes," said Meredith, "I think you ought; but you're chock full of malaria +and fever and all kinds of meanness, and----" + +"You 'tend to your own troubles," returned the other, with an imitation of +liveliness. "I--I don't think it interests me much," he said querulously. +He was often querulous of late, and it frightened Tom. "I'm just tired. I +am strong enough--that is, I think I am till I try to move around, and +then I'm like a log, and a lethargy gets me--that's it; I don't think it's +malaria; it's lethargy." + +"Lethargy comes from malaria." + +"It's the other way with me. I'd be all right if I only could get over +this--this tiredness. Let me have that pencil and pad, will you, please, +Tom?" + +He set the pad on his knee, and began to write languidly: + + "ROUEN, _September 2d_. + +"_Dear Mr. Fisbee_: Yours of the 1st to hand. I entirely approve all +arrangements you have made. I think you understand that I wish you to +regard _everything_ as in your own hands. You are the editor of the +'Herald' and have the sole responsibility for everything, including +policy, until, after proper warning, I relieve you in person. But until +that time comes, you must look upon me as a mere spectator. I do not fear +that you will make any mistakes; you have done very much better in all +matters than I could have done myself. At present I have only one +suggestion: I observe that your editorials concerning Halloway's +renomination are something lukewarm. + +"It is very important that he be renominated, not altogether on account of +assuring his return to Washington (for he is no Madison, I fear), but the +fellow McCune must be so beaten that his defeat will be remembered for +twenty years. Halloway is honest and clean, at least, while McCune is +corrupt to the bone. He has been bought and sold, and I am glad the proofs +of it are in your hands, as you tell me Parker found them, as directed, in +my trunk, and gave them to you. + +"The papers you hold drove him out of politics once, by the mere threat of +publication; you should have printed them last week, as I suggested. Do so +at once; the time is short. You have been too gentle; it has the air of +fearing to offend, and of catering, as if we were afraid of antagonizing +people against us; as though we had a personal stake in the convention. +Possibly you consider our subscription books as such; I do not. But if +they are, go ahead twice as hard. What if it does give the enemy a weapon +in case McCune is nominated; if he is (and I begin to see a danger of it) +we will be with the enemy. I do not carry my partisanship so far as to +help elect Mr. McCune to Congress. You have been as non-committal in your +editorials as if this were a fit time for delicacy and the cheaper +conception of party policy. My notion of party policy--no new one--is that +the party which considers the public service before it considers itself +will thrive best in the long run. The 'Herald' is a little paper (not so +little nowadays, after all, thanks to you), but it is an honest one, and +it isn't afraid of Rod McCune and his friends. He is to be beaten, +understand, if we have to send him to the penitentiary on an old issue to +do it. And if the people wish to believe us cruel or vengeful, let them. +Please let me see as hearty a word as you can say for Halloway, also. You +can write with ginger; please show some in this matter. + +"My condition is improved. + + "I am, very truly yours, + + "JOHN HARKLESS." + +When the letter was concluded, he handed it to Meredith. "Please address +that, put a 'special' on it, and send it, Tom. It should go at once, so as +to reach him by to-night." + +"H. Fisbee?" + +"Yes; H. Fisbee." + +"I believe it does you good to write, boy," said the other, as he bent +over him. "You look more chirrupy than you have for several days." + +"It's that beast, McCune; young Fisbee is rather queer about it, and I +felt stirred up as I went along." But even before the sentence was +finished the favor of age and utter weariness returned, and the dark lids +closed over his eyes. They opened again, slowly, and he took the others +hand and looked up at him mournfully, but as it were his soul shone forth +in dumb and eloquent thanks. + +"I--I'm giving you a jolly summer, Tom," he said, with a quivering effort +to smile. "Don't you think I am? I don't--I don't know what I should have +--done----" + +"You old Indian!" said Meredith, tenderly. + +Three days later, Tom was rejoiced by symptoms of invigoration in his +patient. A telegram came for Harkless, and Meredith, bringing it into the +sick room, was surprised to find the occupant sitting straight up on his +couch without the prop of pillows. He was reading the day's copy of the +"Herald," and his face was flushed and his brow stern. + +"What's the matter, boy?" + +"Mismanagement, I hope," said the other, in a strong voice. "Worse, +perhaps. It's this young Fisbee. I can't think what's come over the +fellow. I thought he was a rescuing angel, and he's turning out bad. I'll +swear it looks like they'd been--well, I won't say that yet. But he hasn't +printed that McCune business I told you of, and he's had two days. There +is less than a week before the convention, and--" He broke off, seeing the +yellow envelope in Meredith's hand. "Is that a telegram for me?" His +companion gave it to him. He tore it open and read the contents. They were +brief and unhappy. + +"Can't you do something? Can't you come down? It begins to look the other +way. "K. H." + +"It's from Halloway," said John. "I have got to go. What did that doctor +say?" + +"He said two weeks at the earliest, or you'll run into typhoid and +complications from your hurts, and even pleasanter things than that. I've +got you here, and here you stay; so lie back and get easy, boy." + +"Then give me that pad and pencil." He rapidly dashed off a note to H. +Fisbee: + +"_September 5th_. + +"H. FISBEE, + +"Editor 'Carlow Herald.' + +"_Dear Sir_: You have not acknowledged my letter of the 2d September by +a note (which should have reached me the following morning), or by the +alteration in the tenor of my columns which I requested, or by the +publication of the McCune papers which I directed. In this I hold you +grossly at fault. If you have a conscientious reason for refusing to carry +out my request it should have been communicated to me at once, as should +the fact--if such be the case--that you are a personal (or impersonal, if +you like) friend of Mr. Rodney McCune. Whatever the motive, ulterior or +otherwise, which prevents you from operating my paper as I direct, I +should have been informed of it. This is a matter vital to the interests +of our community, and you have hitherto shown yourself too alert in +accepting my slightest suggestion for me to construe this failure as +negligence. Negligence I might esteem as at least honest and frank; your +course has been neither the one nor the other. + +"You will receive this letter by seven this evening by special delivery. +You will print the facts concerning McCune in to-morrow morning's paper. + +"I am well aware of the obligations under which your extreme efficiency +and your thoughtfulness in many matters have placed me. It is to you I owe +my unearned profits from the transaction in oil, and it is to you I owe +the 'Herald's' extraordinary present circulation, growth of power and +influence. That power is still under my direction, and is an added +responsibility which shall not be misapplied. + +"You must forgive me if I write too sharply. You see I have failed to +understand your silence; and if I wrong you I heartily ask your pardon in +advance of your explanation. Is it that you are sorry for McCune? It would +be a weak pity that could keep you to silence. I warned him long ago that +the papers you hold would be published if he ever tried to return to +political life, and he is deliberately counting on my physical weakness +and absence. Let him rely upon it; I am not so weak as he thinks. +Personally, I cannot say that I dislike Mr. McCune. I have found him a +very entertaining fellow; it is said he is the best of husbands, and a +friend to some of his friends, and, believe me, I am sorry for him from +the bottom of my heart. But the 'Herald' is not. + +"You need not reply by letter. To-morrow's issue answers for you. Until I +have received a copy, I withhold my judgment. + +"JOHN HARKLESS." + +The morrow's issue--that fateful print on which depended John Harkless's +opinion of H. Fisbee's integrity--contained an editorial addressed to the +delegates of the convention, warning them to act for the vital interest of +the community, and declaring that the opportunity to be given them in the +present convention was a rare one, a singular piece of good fortune +indeed; they were to have the chance to vote for a man who had won the +love and respect of every person in the district--one who had suffered for +his championship of righteousness--one whom even his few political enemies +confessed they held in personal affection and esteem--one who had been the +inspiration of a new era--one whose life had been helpfulness, whose hand +had reached out to every struggler and unfortunate--a man who had met and +faced danger for the sake of others--one who lived under a threat for +years, and who had been almost overborne in the fulfilment of that threat, +but who would live to see the sun shine on his triumph, the tribute the +convention would bring him as a gift from a community that loved him. His +name needed not to be told; it was on every lip that morning, and in every +heart. + +Tom was eagerly watching his companion as he read. Harkless fell back on +the pillows with a drawn face, and for a moment he laid his thin hand over +his eyes in a gesture of intense pain. + +"What is it?" Meredith said quickly. + +"Give me the pad, please." + +"What is it, boy?" + +The other's teeth snapped together. + +"What is it?" he cried. "What is it? It's treachery, and the worst I ever +knew. Not a word of the accusation I demanded--lying _praises_ instead! +Read that editorial--there, _there_!" He struck the page with the back of +his hand, and threw the paper to Meredith. "Read that miserable lie! 'One +who has won the love and respect of every person in the district!'--'One +who has suffered for his championship of righteousness!' _Righteousness!_ +Save the mark!" + +"What does it mean?" + +"Mean! It means McCune--Rod McCune, 'who has lived under a threat for +years'--_my_ threat! I swore I would print him out of Indiana if he ever +raised his head again, and he knew I could. 'Almost overborne in the +fulfilment of that threat!' _Almost_! It's a black scheme, and I see it +now. This man came to Plattville and went on the 'Herald' for nothing in +the world but this. It's McCune's hand all along. He daren't name him even +now, the coward! The trick lies between McCune and young Fisbee--the old +man is innocent. Give me the pad. Not _almost_ overborne. There are three +good days to work in, and, by the gods of Perdition, if Rod McCune sees +Congress it will be in his next incarnation!" + +He rapidly scribbled a few lines on the pad, and threw the sheets to +Meredith. "Get those telegrams to the Western Union office in a rush, +please. Read them first." + +With a very red face Tom read them. One was addressed to H. Fisbee: + +"You are relieved from the cares of editorship. You will turn over the +management of the 'Herald' to Warren Smith. You will give him the McCune +papers. If you do not, or if you destroy them, you cannot hide where I +shall not find you. + + "JOHN HARKLESS." + +The second was to Warren Smith: +"Take possession 'Herald.' Dismiss H. Fisbee. This your authority. Publish +McCune papers so labelled which H. Fisbee will hand you. Letter follows. +Beat McCune. + + "JOHN HARKLESS." + +The author of the curt epistles tossed restlessly on his couch, but the +reader of them stared, incredulous and dumfounded, uncertain of his +command of gravity. His jaw fell, and his open mouth might have betokened +a being smit to imbecility; and, haply, he might be, for Helen had written +him from Plattville, pledging his honor to secrecy with the first words, +and it was by her command that he had found excuses for not supplying his +patient with all the papers which happened to contain references to the +change of date for the Plattville convention. And Meredith had known for +some time where James Fisbee had found a "young relative" to be the savior +of the "Herald" for his benefactor's sake. + +"You mean--you--intend to--you discharge young Fisbee?" he stammered at +last. + +"Yes! Let me have the answers the instant they come, will you, Tom?" Then +Harkless turned his face from the wall and spoke through his teeth: "I +mean to see H. Fisbee before many days; I want to talk to him!" + +But, though he tossed and fretted himself into what the doctor pronounced +a decidedly improved state, no answer came to either telegram that day or +night. The next morning a messenger boy stumbled up the front steps and +handed the colored man, Jim, four yellow envelopes, night messages. Three +of them were for Harkless, one was for Meredith. Jim carried them +upstairs, left the three with his master's guest, then knocked on his +master's door. + +"What is it?" answered a thick voice. Meredith had not yet risen. + +"A telegraph. Mist' Tawm." + +There was a terrific yawn. "O-o-oh! Slide it--oh--under the--door." + +"Yessuh." + +Meredith lay quite without motion for several minutes, sleepily watching +the yellow rhomboid in the crevice. It was a hateful looking thing to come +mixing in with pleasant dreams and insist upon being read. After a while +he climbed groaningly out of bed, and read the message with heavy eyes, +still half asleep. He read it twice before it penetrated: + +"Suppress all newspapers to-day. Convention meets at eleven. If we succeed +a delegation will come to Rouen this afternoon. They will come. + + "HELEN." + + +Tom rubbed his sticky eyelids, and shook his head violently in a Spartan +effort to rouse himself; but what more effectively performed the task for +him were certain sounds issuing from Harkless's room, across the hall. For +some minutes, Meredith had been dully conscious of a rustle and stir in +the invalid's chamber, and he began to realize that no mere tossing about +a bed would account for a noise that reached him across a wide hall and +through two closed doors of thick walnut. Suddenly he heard a quick, heavy +tread, shod, in Harkless's room, and a resounding bang, as some heavy +object struck the floor. The doctor was not to come till evening; Jim had +gone down-stairs. Who wore shoes in the sick man's room? He rushed across +the hall in his pyjamas and threw open the unlocked door. + +The bed was disarranged and vacant. Harkless, fully dressed, was standing +in the middle of the floor, hurling garments at a big travelling bag. + +The horrified Meredith stood for a second, bleached and speechless, then +he rushed upon his friend and seized him with both hands. + +"Mad, by heaven! Mad!" + +"Let go of me, Tom!" + +"Lunatic! Lunatic!" + +"Don't stop me one instant!" + +Meredith tried to force him toward the bed. "For mercy's sake, get back to +bed. You're delirious, boy!" + +"Delirious nothing. I'm a well man." + +"Go to bed--go to bed." + +Harkless set him out of the way with one arm. "Bed be hanged!" he cried. +"I'm going to Plattville!" + +Meredith wrung his hands. "The doctor----"! + +"Doctor be damned!" + +"Will you tell me what has happened, John?" + +His companion slung a light overcoat, unfolded, on the overflowing, +misshapen bundle of clothes that lay in the bag; then he jumped on the lid +with both feet and kicked the hasp into the lock; a very elegantly +laundered cuff and white sleeve dangling out from between the fastened +lids. "I haven't one second to talk, Tom; I have seventeen minutes to +catch the express, and it's a mile and a half to the station; the train +leaves here at eight fifty, I get to Plattville at ten forty-seven. +Telephone for a cab for me, please, or tell me the number; I don't want to +stop to hunt it up." + +Meredith looked him in the eyes. In the pupils of Harkless flared a fierce +light. His cheeks were reddened with an angry, healthy glow, and his teeth +were clenched till the line of his jaw stood out like that of an embattled +athlete in sculpture; his brow was dark; his chest was thrown out, and he +took deep, quick breaths; his shoulders were squared, and in spite of his +thinness they looked massy. Lethargy, or malaria, or both, whatever were +his ailments, they were gone. He was six feet of hot wrath and cold +resolution. + +Tom said: "You are going?" + +"Yes," he answered, "I am going." + +"Then I will go with you." + +"Thank you, Tom," said the other quietly. + +Meredith ran into his own room, pressed an electric button, sprang out of +his pyjamas like Aphrodite from the white sea-foam, and began to dive into +his clothes with a panting rapidity astonishingly foreign to his desire. +Jim appeared in the doorway. + +"The cart, Jim," shouted his master. "We want it like lightning. Tell the +cook to give Mr. Harkless his breakfast in a hurry. Set a cup of coffee on +the table by the front door for me. Run like the deuce! We've got to catch +a train.--That will be quicker than any cab," he explained to Harkless. +"We'll break the ordinance against fast driving, getting down there." + +Ten minutes later the cart swept away from the house at a gait which +pained the respectable neighborhood. The big horse plunged through the +air, his ears laid flat toward his tail; the cart careened sickeningly; +the face of the servant clutching at the rail in the rear was smeared with +pallor as they pirouetted around curves on one wheel--to him it seemed +they skirted the corners and Death simultaneously--and the speed of their +going made a strong wind in their faces. + +Harkless leaned forward. + +"Can you make it a little faster, Tom?" he said. + +They dashed up to the station amid the cries of people flying to the walls +for safety; the two gentlemen leaped from the cart, bore down upon the +ticket-office, stormed at the agent, and ran madly at the gates, +flourishing their passports. The official on duty eyed them wearily, and +barred the way. + +"Been gone two minutes," he remarked, with a peaceable yawn. + +Harkless stamped his foot on the cement flags; then he stood stock still, +gazing at the empty tracks; but Meredith turned to him, smiling. + +"Won't it keep?" he asked. + +"Yes, it will keep," John answered. "Part of it may have to keep till +election day, but some of it I will settle before night. And that," he +cried, between his teeth, "and that is the part of it in regard to young +Mr. Fisbee!" + +"Oh, it's about H. Fisbee, is it?" + +"Yes, it's H. Fisbee." + +"Well, we might as well go up and see what the doctor thinks of you; +there's no train." + +"I don't want to see a doctor again, ever--as long as I live. I'm as well +as anybody." + +Tom burst out laughing, and clapped his companion lightly on the shoulder, +his eyes dancing with pleasure. + +"Upon my soul," he cried, "I believe you are! It's against all my +tradition, and I see I am the gull of poetry; for I've always believed it +to be beyond question that this sort of miracle was wrought, not by rage, +but by the tenderer senti--" Tom checked himself. "Well, let's take a +drive." + +"Meredith," said the other, turning to him gravely, "you may think me a +fool, if you will, and it's likely I am; but I don't leave this station +except by train. I've only two days to work in, and every minute lessens +our chances to beat McCune, and I have to begin by wasting time on a +tussle with a traitor. There's another train at eleven fifty-five; I don't +take any chances on missing that one." + +"Well, well," laughed his friend, pushing him good-humoredly toward a door +by a red and white striped pillar, "we'll wait here, if you like; but at +least go in there and get a shave; it's a clean shop. You want to look +your best if you are going down to fight H. Fisbee." + +"Take these, then, and you will understand," said Harkless; and he thrust +his three telegrams of the morning into Tom's hand and disappeared into +the barber-shop. When he was gone, Meredith went to the telegraph office +in the station, and sent a line over the wire to Helen: + +"Keep your delegation at home. He's coming on the 11.55." + +Then he read the three telegrams Harkless had given him. They were all +from Plattville: + +"Sorry cannot oblige. Present incumbent tenacious. Unconditionally refuses +surrender. Delicate matter. No hope for K. H. But don't worry. Everything +all right. + + "WARREN SMITH." + + +"Harkless, if you have the strength to walk, come down before the +convention. Get here by 10.47. Looks bad. Come if it kills you. + + "K. H." + +"You entrusted me with sole responsibility for all matters pertaining to +'Herald.' Declared yourself mere spectator. Does this permit your +interfering with my policy for the paper? Decline to consider any +proposition to relieve me of my duties without proper warning and +allowance of time. + + "H. FISBEE." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE GREAT HARKLESS COMES HOME + +The accommodation train wandered languidly through the early afternoon +sunshine, stopping at every village and almost every country post-office +on the line; the engine toot-tooting at the road crossings; and, now and +again, at such junctures, a farmer, struggling with a team of prancing +horses, would be seen, or, it might be, a group of school children, +homeward bound from seats of learning. At each station, when the train +came to a stand-still, some passenger, hanging head and elbows out of his +window, like a quilt draped over a chair, would address a citizen on the +platform: + +"Hey, Sam, how's Miz Bushkirk?" + +"She's wal." + +"Where's Milt, this afternoon?" + +"Warshing the buggy." Then at the cry, "All 'board"--"See you Sunday over +at Amo." + +"You make Milt come. I'll be there, shore. So long." + +There was an impatient passenger in the smoker, who found the stoppages at +these wayside hamlets interminable, both in frequency and in the delay at +each of them; and while the dawdling train remained inert, and the moments +passed inactive, his eyes dilated and his hand clenched till the nails bit +his palm; then, when the trucks groaned and the wheels crooned against the +rails once more, he sank back in his seat with sighs of relief. Sometimes +he would get up and pace the aisle until his companion reminded him that +this was not certain to hasten the hour of their arrival at their +destination. + +"I know that," answered the other, "but I've got to beat McCune." + +"By the way," observed Meredith, "you left your stick behind." + +"You don't think I need a club to face----" + +Tom choked. "Oh, no. I wasn't thinking of your giving H. Fisbee a +thrashing. I meant to lean on." + +"I don't want it. I've got to walk lame all my life, but I'm not going to +hobble on a stick." Tom looked at him sadly; for it was true, and the +Cross-Roaders might hug themselves in their cells over the thought. For +the rest of his life John Harkless was to walk with just the limp they +themselves would have had, if, as in former days, their sentence had been +to the ball and chain. + +The window was open beside the two young men, and the breeze swept in, +fresh from the wide fields, There was a tang in the air; it soothed like a +balm, but there was a spur to energy and heartiness in its crispness, the +wholesome touch of fall. John looked out over the boundless aisles of corn +that stood higher than a tall man could reach; long waves rippled across +them. Here, where the cry of the brave had rung in forest glades, where +the painted tribes had hastened, were marshalled the tasselled armies of +peace. And beyond these, where the train ran between shadowy groves, +delicate landscape vistas, framed in branches, opened, closed, and +succeeded each other, and then the travellers were carried out into the +level open again, and the intensely blue September skies ran down to the +low horizon, meeting the tossing plumes of corn. + +It takes a long time for the full beauty of the flat lands to reach a +man's soul; once there, nor hills, nor sea, nor growing fan leaves of palm +shall suffice him. It is like the beauty in the word "Indiana." It may be +that there are people who do not consider "Indiana" a beautiful word; but +once it rings true in your ears it has a richer sound than "Vallombrosa." + +There was a newness in the atmosphere that day, a bright invigoration, +that set the blood tingling. The hot months were done with, languor was +routed. Autumn spoke to industry, told of the sowing of another harvest, +of the tawny shock, of the purple grape, of the red apple, and called upon +muscle and laughter; breathed gaiety into men's hearts. The little +stations hummed with bustle and noise; big farm wagons rattled away and +raced with cut-under or omnibus; people walked with quick steps; the +baggage-masters called cheerily to the trainmen, and the brakemen laughed +good-bys to rollicking girls. + +As they left Gainesville three children, clad in calico, barefoot and +bareheaded, came romping out of a log cabin on the outskirts of the town, +and waved their hands to the passengers. They climbed on the sagging gate +in front of their humble domain, and laughed for joy to see the monstrous +caravan come clattering out of the unknown, bearing the faces by. The +smallest child, a little cherubic tow-head, whose cheeks were smeared with +clean earth and the tracks of forgotten tears, stood upright on a fence- +post, and blew the most impudent of kisses to the strangers on a journey. + +Beyond this they came into a great plain, acres and acres of green +rag-weed where the wheat had grown, all so flat one thought of an enormous +billiard table, and now, where the railroad crossed the country roads, +they saw the staunch brown thistle, sometimes the sumach, and always the +graceful iron-weed, slender, tall, proud, bowing a purple-turbaned head, +or shaking in an agony of fright when it stood too close to the train. The +fields, like great, flat emeralds set in new metal, were bordered with +golden-rod, and at sight of this the heart leaped; for the golden-rod is a +symbol of stored granaries, of ripe sheaves, of the kindness of the season +generously given and abundantly received; more, it is the token of a land +of promise and of bounteous fulfilment; and the plant stains its blossom +with yellow so that when it falls it pays tribute to the ground which has +nourished it. + +From the plain they passed again into a thick wood, where ruddy arrows of +the sun glinted among the boughs; and, here and there, one saw a courtly +maple or royal oak wearing a gala mantle of crimson and pale brown, +gallants of the forest preparing early for the October masquerade, when +they should hold wanton carnival, before they stripped them of their +finery for pious gray. + +And when the coughing engine drew them to the borders of this wood, they +rolled out into another rich plain of green and rust-colored corn; and far +to the south John Harkless marked a winding procession of sycamores, +which, he knew, followed the course of a slender stream; and the waters of +the stream flowed by a bank where wild thyme might have grown, and where, +beyond an orchard and a rose-garden, a rustic bench was placed in the +shade of the trees; and the name of the stream was Hibbard's Creek. Here +the land lay flatter than elsewhere; the sky came closer, with a gentler +benediction; the breeze blew in, laden with keener spices; there was the +flavor of apples and the smell of the walnut and a hint of coming frost; +the immeasurable earth lay more patiently to await the husbandman; and the +whole world seemed to extend flat in line with the eye--for this was +Carlow County. + +All at once the anger ran out of John Harkless; he was a hard man for +anger to tarry with. And in place of it a strong sense of home-coming +began to take possession of him. He was going home. "Back to Plattville, +where I belong," he had said; and he said it again without bitterness, for +it was the truth. "Every man cometh to his own place in the end." + +Yes, as one leaves a gay acquaintance of the playhouse lobby for some +hard-handed, tried old friend, so he would wave the outer world God-speed +and come back to the old ways of Carlow. What though the years were dusty, +he had his friends and his memories and his old black brier pipe. He had a +girl's picture that he should carry in his heart till his last day; and if +his life was sadder, it was infinitely richer for it. His winter fireside +should be not so lonely for her sake; and losing her, he lost not +everything, for he had the rare blessing of having known her. And what man +could wish to be healed of such a hurt? Far better to have had it than to +trot a smug pace unscathed. + +He had been a dullard; he had lain prostrate in the wretchedness of his +loss. "A girl you could put in your hat--and there you have a strong man +prone." He had been a sluggard, weary of himself, unfit to fight, a +failure in life and a failure in love. That was ended; he was tired of +failing, and it was time to succeed for a while. To accept the worst that +Fate can deal, and to wring courage from it instead of despair, that is +success; and it was the success that he would have. He would take Fate by +the neck. But had it done him unkindness? He looked out over the +beautiful, "monotonous" landscape, and he answered heartily, "No!" There +was ignorance in man, but no unkindness; were man utterly wise he were +utterly kind. The Cross-Roaders had not known better; that was all. + +The unfolding aisles of corn swam pleasantly before John's eyes. The earth +hearkened to man's wants and answered; the clement sun and summer rains +hastened the fruition. Yonder stood the brown haystack, garnered to feed +the industrious horse who had earned his meed; there was the straw- +thatched shelter for the cattle. How the orchard boughs bent with their +burdens! The big red barns stood stored with the harvested wheat; and, +beyond the pasture-lands, tall trees rose against the benign sky to feed +the glance of a dreamer; the fertile soil lay lavender and glossy in the +furrow. The farmhouses were warmly built and hale and strong; no winter +blast should rage so bitterly as to shake them, or scatter the hospitable +embers on the hearth. For this was Carlow County, and he was coming home. + +They crossed a by-road. An old man with a streaky gray chin-beard was +sitting on a sack of oats in a seatless wagon, waiting for the train to +pass. Harkless seized his companion excitedly by the elbow. + +"Tommy!" he cried. "It's Kim Fentriss--look! Did you see that old fellow?" + +"I saw a particularly uninterested and uninteresting gentleman sitting on +a bag," replied his friend. + +"Why, that's old Kimball Fentriss. He's going to town; he lives on the +edge of the county." + +"Can this be true?" said Meredith gravely. + +"I wonder," said Harkless thoughtfully, a few moments later, "I wonder why +he had them changed around." + +"Who changed around?" + +"The team. He always used to drive the bay on the near side, and the +sorrel on the off." + +"And at present," rejoined Meredith, "I am to understand that he is +driving the sorrel on the near side, and bay on the off?" + +"That's it," returned the other. "He must have worked them like that for +some time, because they didn't look uneasy. They're all right about the +train, those two. I've seen them stand with their heads almost against a +fast freight. See there!" He pointed to a white frame farmhouse with green +blinds. "That's Win Hibbard's. We're just outside of Beaver." + +"Beaver? Elucidate Beaver, boy!" + +"Beaver? Meredith, your information ends at home. What do you know of your +own State if you are ignorant of Beaver. Beaver is that city of Carlow +County next in importance and population to Plattville." + +Tom put his head out of the window. "I fancy you are right," he said. "I +already see five people there." + +Meredith had observed the change in his companion's mood. He had watched +him closely all day, looking for a return of his malady; but he came to +the conclusion that in truth a miracle had been wrought, for the lethargy +was gone, and vigor seemed to increase in Harkless with every turn of the +wheels that brought them nearer Plattville; and the nearer they drew to +Plattville the higher the spirits of both the young men rose. Meredith +knew what was happening there, and he began to be a little excited. As he +had said, there were five people visible at Beaver; and he wondered where +they lived, as the only building in sight was the station, and to satisfy +his curiosity he walked out to the vestibule. The little station stood in +deep woods, and brown leaves whirled along the platform. One of the five +people was an old lady, and she entered a rear car. The other four were +men. One of them handed the conductor a telegram. + +Meredith heard the official say, "All right. Decorate ahead. I'll hold it +five minutes." + +The man sprang up the steps of the smoker and looked in. He turned to +Meredith: "Do you know if that gentleman in the gray coat is Mr. Harkless? +He's got his back this way, and I don't want to go inside. The--the air in +a smoker always gives me a spell." + +"Yes, that's Mr. Harkless." + +The man jumped to the platform. "All right, boys," he said. "Rip her out." + +The doors of the freight-room were thrown open, and a big bundle of +colored stuffs was dragged out and hastily unfolded. One of the men ran to +the further end of the car with a strip of red, white and blue bunting, +and tacked it securely, while another fastened the other extremity to the +railing of the steps by Meredith. The two companions of this pair +performed the same operation with another strip on the other side of the +car. They ran similar strips of bunting along the roof from end to end, so +that, except for the windows, the car was completely covered by the +national colors. Then they draped the vestibules with flags. It was all +done in a trice. + +Meredith's heart was beating fast. "What's it all about?" he asked. + +"Picnic down the line," answered the man in charge, removing a tack from +his mouth. He motioned to the conductor, "Go ahead." + +The wheels began to move; the decorators remained on the platform, letting +the train pass them; but Meredith, craning his neck from the steps, saw +that they jumped on the last car. + +"What's the celebration?" asked Harkless, when Meredith returned. + +"Picnic down the line," said Meredith. + +"Nipping weather for a picnic; a little cool, don't you think? One of +those fellows looked like a friend of mine. Homer Tibbs, or as Homer might +look if he were in disgrace. He had his hat hung on his eyes, and he +slouched like a thief in melodrama, as he tacked up the bunting on this +side of the car." He continued to point out various familiar places, +finally breaking out enthusiastically, as they drew nearer the town, +"Hello! Look there--beyond the grove yonder! See that house?" + +"Yes, John." + +"That's the Bowlders'. You've got to know the Bowlders." + +"I'd like to." + +"The kindest people in the world. The Briscoe house we can't see, because +it's so shut in by trees; and, besides, it's a mile or so ahead of us. +We'll go out there for supper to-night. Don't you like Briscoe? He's the +best they make. We'll go up town with Judd Bennett in the omnibus, and +you'll know how a rapid-fire machine gun sounds. I want to go straight to +the 'Herald' office," he finished, with a suddenly darkening brow. + +"After all, there may be some explanation," Meredith suggested, with a +little hesitancy. "H. Fisbee might turn out more honest than you think." + +Harkless threw his head back and laughed; it was the first time Meredith +had heard him laugh since the night of the dance in the country. "Honest! +A man in the pay of Rodney McCune! Well, we can let it wait till we get +there. Listen! There's the whistle that means we're getting near home. By +heaven, there's an oil-well!" + +"So it is." + +"And another--three--five--seven--seven in sight at once! They tried it +three miles south and failed; but you can't fool Eph Watts, bless him! I +want you to know Watts." + +They were running by the outlying houses of the town, amidst a thousand +descriptive exclamations from Harkless, who wished Meredith to meet every +one in Carlow. But he came to a pause in the middle of a word. + +"Do you hear music?" he asked abruptly. "Or is it only the rhythm of the +ties?" + +"It seems to me there's music in the air," answered his companion. "I've +been fancying I heard it for a minute or so. There! No--yes. It's a band, +isn't it?" + +"No; what would a band----" + +The train slowed up, and stopped at a watertank, two hundred yards east of +the station, and their uncertainty was at an end. + +From somewhere down the track came the detonating boom of a cannon. There +was a dash of brass, and the travellers became aware of a band playing +"Marching through Georgia." Meredith laid his hand on his companion's +shoulder. "John," he said, "John----" The cannon fired again, and there +came a cheer from three thousand throats, the shouters all unseen. + +The engine coughed and panted, the train rolled on, and in another minute +it had stopped alongside the station in the midst of a riotous jam of +happy people, who were waving flags and banners and handkerchiefs, and +tossing their hats high in the air, and shouting themselves hoarse. The +band played in dumb show; it could not hear itself play. The people came +at the smoker like a long wave, and Warren Smith, Briscoe, Keating, and +Mr. Bence of Gaines were swept ahead of it. Before the train stopped they +had rushed eagerly up the steps and entered the car. + +Harkless was on his feet and started to meet them. He stopped. + +"What does it mean?" he said, and began to grow pale. "Is Halloway--did +McCune--have you----" + +Warren Smith seized one of his hands and Briscoe the other. "What does it +mean?" cried Warren; "it means that you were nominated for Congress at +five minutes after one-o'clock this afternoon." + +"On the second ballot," shouted the Judge, "just as young Fisbee planned +it, weeks ago." + + +It was one of the great crowds of Carlow's history. They had known since +morning that he was coming home, and the gentlemen of the Reception +Committee had some busy hours; but long before the train arrived, +everything was ready. Homer Tibbs had done his work well at Beaver, and +the gray-haired veterans of a battery Carlow had sent out in '61 had +placed their worn old gun in position to fire salutes. At one-o'clock, +immediately after the nomination had been made unanimous, the Harkless +Clubs of Carlow, Amo, and Gaines, secretly organized during the quiet +agitation preceding the convention, formed on parade in the court-house +yard, and, with the Plattville Band at their head, paraded the streets to +the station, to make sure of being on hand when the train arrived--it was +due in a couple of hours. There they were joined by an increasing number +of glad enthusiasts, all noisy, exhilarated, red-faced with shouting, and +patriotically happy. As Mr. Bence, himself the spoiled child of another +county, generously said, in a speech, which (with no outrageous pressure) +he was induced to make during the long wait: "The favorite son of Carlow +is returning to his Lares and Penates like another Cincinnatus accepting +the call of the people; and, for the first time in sixteen years, Carlow +shall have a representative to bear the banner of this district and the +flaming torch of Progress sweeping on to Washington and triumph like a +speedy galleon of old. And his friends are here to take his hand and do +him homage, and the number of his friends is as the number given in the +last census of the population of the counties of this district!" + +And, indeed, in this estimate the speaker seemed guilty of no great +exaggeration. A never intermittent procession of pedestrians and vehicles +made its way to the station; and every wagon, buckboard, buggy, and +cut-under had its flags or bunting, or streamer of ribbons tied to the +whip. The excitement increased as the time grew shorter; those on foot +struggled for better positions, and the people in wagons and carriages +stood upon seats, while the pedestrians besieged them, climbing on the +wheels, or balancing recklessly, with feet on the hubs of opposite wagons. +Everybody was bound to see _him_. When the whistle announced the coming of +the train, the band began to play, the cannon fired, horns blew, and the +cheering echoed and reechoed till heaven's vault resounded with the noise +the people of Carlow were making. + +There was one heart which almost stopped beating. Helen was standing on +the front seat of the Briscoe buckboard, with Minnie beside her, and, at +the commotion, the horses pranced and backed so that Lige Willetts ran to +hold them; but she did not notice the frightened roans, nor did she know +that Minnie clutched her round the waist to keep her from falling. Her +eyes were fixed intently on the smoke of the far-away engine, and her +hand, lifted to her face in an uncertain, tremulous fashion, as it was one +day in a circus tent, pressed against the deepest blush that ever mantled +a girl's cheek. When the train reached the platform, she saw Briscoe and +the others rush into the car, and there ensued what was to her an almost +intolerable pause of expectation, while the crowd besieged the windows of +the smoker, leaning up and climbing on each other's shoulders to catch the +first glimpse of _him_. Briscoe and a red-faced young man, a stranger to +Plattville, came down the steps, laughing like boys, and then Keating and +Bence, and then Warren Smith. As the lawyer reached the platform, he +turned toward the door of the car and waved his hand as in welcome. + +"Here he is, boys!" he shouted, "Welcome Home!" At that it was as if all +the noise that had gone before had been mere leakage of pent-up +enthusiasm. A thousand horns blared deafeningly, the whistles of the +engine and of Hibbard's mill were added to the din, the court-house bell +was pealing out a welcome, and the church bells were ringing, the cannon +thundered, and then cheer on cheer shook the air, as John Harkless came +out under the flags, and passed down the steps of the car. + +When Helen saw him, over the heads of the people and through a flying +tumult of flags and hats and handkerchiefs, she gave one frightened glance +about her, and jumped down from her high perch, and sank into the back +seat of the buckboard with her burning face turned from the station and +her eyes fixed on the ground. She wanted to run away, as she had run from +him the first time she had ever seen him. Then, as now, he came in +triumph, hailed by the plaudits of his fellows; and now, as on that long- +departed day of her young girlhood, he was borne high over the heads of +the people, for Minnie cried to her to look; they were carrying him on +their shoulders to his carriage. She had had only that brief glimpse of +him, before he was lost in the crowd that was so glad to get him back +again and so proud of him; but she had seen that he looked very white and +solemn. + +Briscoe and Tom Meredith made their way through the crowd, and climbed +into the buckboard. "All right, Lige," called the judge to Willetts, who +was at the horses' heads. "You go get into line with the boys; they want +you. We'll go down on Main Street to see the parade," he explained to the +ladies, gathering the reins in his hand. + +He clucked to the roans, and by dint of backing and twisting and turning +and a hundred intricate manoeuvres, accompanied by entreaties and +remonstrances and objurgations, addressed to the occupants of surrounding +vehicles, he managed to extricate the buckboard from the press; and once +free, the team went down the road toward Main Street at a lively gait. The +judge's call to the colts rang out cheerily; his handsome face was one +broad smile. "This is a big day for Carlow," he said; "I don't remember a +better day's work in twenty years." + +"Did you tell him about Mr. Halloway?" asked Helen, leaning forward +anxiously. + +"Warren told him before we left the car," answered Briscoe. "He'd have +declined on the spot, I expect, if we hadn't made him sure it was all +right with Kedge." + +"If I understood what Mr. Smith was saying, Halloway must have behaved +very well," said Meredith. + +The judge laughed. "He saw it was the only way to beat McCune, and he'd +have given his life and Harkless's, too, rather than let McCune have it." + +"Why didn't you stay with him, Tom?" asked Helen. + +"With Halloway? I don't know him." + +"One forgives a generous hilarity anything, even such quips as that," she +retorted. "Why did you not stay with Mr. Harkless?" + +"That's very hospitable of you," laughed the young man. "You forget that I +have the felicity to sit at your side. Judge Briscoe has been kind enough +to ask me to review the procession from his buckboard and to sup at his +house with other distinguished visitors, and I have accepted." + +"But didn't he wish you to remain with him?" + +"But this second I had the honor to inform you that I am here distinctly +by his invitation." + +"_His_?" + +"Precisely, his. Judge Briscoe, Miss Sherwood will not believe that you +desire my presence. If I intrude, pray let me--" He made as if to spring +from the buckboard, and the girl seized his arm impatiently. + +"You are a pitiful nonsense-monger!" she cried; and for some reason this +speech made him turn his glasses upon her gravely. Her lashes fell before +his gaze, and at that he took her hand and kissed it quickly. + +"No, no," she faltered. "You must not think it. It isn't--you see, I-- +there is nothing!" + +"You shall not dull the edge of my hilarity," he answered, "especially +since so much may be forgiven it." + +"Why did you leave Mr. Harkless?" she asked, without raising her eyes. + +"My dear girl," he replied, "because, for some inexplicable reason, my +lady cousin has not nominated me for Congress, but instead has chosen to +bestow that distinction upon another, and, I may say, an unworthier and +unfitter man than I. And, oddly enough, the non-discriminating multitude +were not cheering for me; the artillery was not in action to celebrate me; +the band was not playing to do me honor; therefore why should I ride in +the midst of a procession that knows me not? Why should I enthrone me in +an open barouche--a little faded and possibly not quite secure as to its +springs, but still a barouche--with four white horses to draw it, and +draped with silken flags, both barouche and steeds? Since these things +were not for me, I flew to your side to dissemble my spleen under the +licensed prattle of a cousin." + +"Then who _is_ with him?" + +"The population of this portion of our State, I take it." + +"Oh, it's all right," said the judge, leaning back to speak to Helen. +"Keating and Smith and your father are to ride in the carriage with him. +You needn't be afraid of any of them letting him know that H. Fisbee is a +lady. Everybody understands about that; of course they know it's to be +left to you to break it to him how well a girl has run his paper." The old +gentleman chuckled, and looked out of the corner of his eye at his +daughter, whose expression was inscrutable. + +"I!" cried Helen. "_I_ tell him! No one must tell him. He need never know +it." + +Briscoe reached back and patted her cheek. "How long do you suppose he +will be here in Plattville without it's leaking out?" + +"But they kept guard over him for months and nobody told him." + +"Ah," said Briscoe, "but this is different." + +"No, no, no!" she exclaimed. "It _must_ be kept from him somehow!" + +"He'll know it by to-morrow, so you'd better tell him this evening." + +"This evening?" + +"Yes. You'll have a good chance." + +"I will?" + +"He's coming to supper with us. He and your father, of course, and Keating +and Bence and Boswell and Smith and Tom Martin and Lige. We're going to +have a big time, with you and Minnie to do the honors; and we're all +coming into town afterwards for the fireworks; I'll let him drive you in +the phaeton. You'll have plenty of time to talk it over with him and tell +him all about it." + +Helen gave a little gasp. "Never!" she cried. "Never!" + +The buckboard stopped on the "Herald" corner, and here, and along Main +Street, the line of vehicles which had followed it from the station took +their places. The Square was almost a solid mass of bunting, and the north +entrance of the court-house had been decorated with streamers and flags, +so as to make it a sort of stand. Hither the crowd was already streaming, +and hither the procession made its way. At intervals the cannon boomed, +and Schofields' Henry was winnowing the air with his bell; nobody had a +better time that day than Schofields' Henry, except old Wilkerson, who was +with the procession. + +In advance, came the boys, whooping and somersaulting, and behind them, +rode a band of mounted men, sitting their horses like cavalrymen, led by +the sheriff and his deputy and Jim Bardlock; then followed the Harkless +Club of Amo, led by Boswell, with the magnanimous Halloway himself +marching in the ranks; and at sight of this the people shouted like +madmen. But when Helen's eye fell upon his fat, rather unhappy face, she +felt a pang of pity and unreasoning remorse, which warned her that he who +looks upon politics when it is red must steel his eyes to see many a man +with the heart-burn. After the men of Amo, came the Harkless Club of +Gainesville, Mr. Bence in the van with the step of a grenadier. There +followed next, Mr. Ephraim Watts, bearing a light wand in his hand and +leading a detachment of workers from the oil-fields in their stained blue +overalls and blouses; and, after them, came Mr. Martin and Mr. Landis at +the head of an organization recognized in the "Order of Procession," +printed in the "Herald," as the Business Men of Plattville. They played in +such magnificent time that every high-stepping foot in all the line came +down with the same jubilant plunk, and lifted again with a unanimity as +complete as that of the last vote the convention had taken that day. The +leaders of the procession set a brisk pace, and who could have set any +other kind of a pace when on parade to the strains of such a band, playing +such a tune as "A New Coon in Town," with all its might and main? + +But as the line swung into the Square, there came a moment when the tune +was ended, the musicians paused for breath, and there fell comparative +quiet. Amongst the ranks of Business Men ambled Mr. Wilkerson, singing at +the top of his voice, and now he could be heard distinctly enough for +those near to him to distinguish the melody with which it was his +intention to favor the public: + + "Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + As we go marching on." + +The words, the air, that husky voice, recalled to the men of Carlow +another day and another procession, not like this one. And the song +Wilkerson was singing is the one song every Northern-born American knows +and can sing. The leader of the band caught the sound, signalled to his +men; twenty instruments rose as one to twenty mouths; the snare-drum +rattled, the big drum crashed, the leader lifted his baton high over his +head, and music burst from twenty brazen throats: + + "Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!" + +Instantaneously, the whole procession began to sing the refrain, and the +people in the street, and those in the wagons and carriages, and those +leaning from the windows joined with one accord, the ringing bells caught +the time of the song, and the upper air reverberated in the rhythm. + +The Harkless Club of Carlow wheeled into Main Street, two hundred strong, +with their banners and transparencies. Lige Willetts rode at their head, +and behind him strode young William Todd and Parker and Ross Schofield and +Homer Tibbs and Hartley Bowlder, and even Bud Tipworthy held a place in +the ranks through his connection with the "Herald." They were all singing. + +And, behind them, Helen saw the flag-covered barouche and her father, and +beside him sat John Harkless with his head bared. + +She glanced at Briscoe; he was standing on the front seat with Minnie +beside him, and both were singing. Meredith had climbed upon the back seat +and was nervously fumbling at a cigarette. + +"Sing, Tom!" the girl cried to him excitedly. + +"I should be ashamed not to," he answered; and dropped the cigarette and +began to sing "John Brown's Body" with all his strength. With that she +seized his hand, sprang up beside him, and over the swelling chorus her +full soprano rose, lifted with all the power in her. + +The barouche rolled into the Square, and, as it passed, Harkless turned, +and bent a sudden gaze upon the group in the buckboard; but the western +sun was in his eyes, and he only caught a glimpse of a vague, bright shape +and a dazzle of gold, and he was borne along and out of view, down the +singing street. + + "Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! + As we go marching on!" + +The barouche stopped in front of the courthouse, and he passed up a lane +they made for him to the steps. When he turned to them to speak, they +began to cheer again, and he had to wait for them to quiet down. + +"We can't hear him from over here," said Briscoe, "we're too far off. Mr. +Meredith, suppose you take the ladies closer in, and I'll stay with the +horses. You want to hear his speech." + +"He is a great man, isn't he?" Meredith said to Helen, gravely, as he +handed her out of the buckboard. "I've been trying to realize for the last +few minutes, that he is the same old fellow I've been treating so +familiarly all day long." + +"Yes, he is a great man," she answered. "This is only the beginning." + +"That's true," said Briscoe, who had overheard her. "He'll go pretty far. +A man that people know is steady and strong and level-headed can get +whatever he wants, because a public man can get anything, if people know +he's safe and honest and they can rely on him for _sense_. It sounds like +a simple matter; but only three or four public men in the country have +convinced us that they are like that. Hurry along, young people." + +Crossing the street, they met Miss Tibbs; she was wiping her streaming +eyes with the back of her left hand and still mechanically waving her +handkerchief with her right. "Isn't it beautiful?" she said, not ceasing +to flutter, unconsciously, the little square of cambric. "There was such a +throng that I grew faint and had to come away. I don't mind your seeing me +crying. Pretty near everybody cried when he walked up to the steps and we +saw that he was lame." + +Standing on the outskirts of the crowd, they could hear the mellow ring of +Harkless's voice, but only fragments of the speech, for it was rather +halting, and was not altogether clear in either rhetoric or delivery; and +Mr. Bence could have been a good deal longer in saying what he had to say, +and a thousand times more oratorical. Nevertheless, there was not a man or +woman present who did not declare that it was the greatest speech ever +heard in Plattville; and they really thought so--to such lengths are +loyalty and friendship sometimes carried in Carlow and Amo and Gaines. + +He looked down upon the attentive, earnest faces and into the kindly eyes +of the Hoosier country people, and, as he spoke, the thought kept +recurring to him that this was the place he had dreaded to come back to; +that these were the people he had wished to leave--these, who gave him +everything they had to give--and this made it difficult to keep his tones +steady and his throat clear. + +Helen stood so far from the steps (nor could she be induced to penetrate +further, though they would have made way for her) that only fragments +reached her, but what she heard she remembered: + +"I have come home . . . Ordinarily a man needs to fall sick by the wayside +or to be set upon by thieves, in order to realize that nine-tenths of the +world is Samaritan, and the other tenth only too busy or too ignorant to +be. Down here he realizes it with no necessity of illness or wounds to +bring it out; and if he does get hurt, you send him to Congress. . . . +There will'be no other in Washington so proud of what he stands for as I +shall be. To represent you is to stand for realities--fearlessness, honor, +kindness. . . . We are people who take what comes to us, and it comes +bountifully; we are rich--oh, we are all Americans here! . . . This is the +place for a man who likes to live where people are kind to one another, +and where they have the old-fashioned way of saying 'Home.' Other places, +they don't seem to get so much into it as we do. And to come home as I +have to-day. . . . I have come home. . . ." + +Every one meant to shake hands with him, and, when the speech was over, +those nearest swooped upon him, cheering and waving, and grasping at his +hand. Then a line was formed, and they began to defile by him, as he stood +on the steps, and one by one they came up, and gave him hearty greetings, +and passed on through the court-house and out at the south door. Tom +Meredith and Minnie Briscoe came amongst the others, and Tom said only, +"Good old boy," as he squeezed his friend's hand; and then, as he went +down the hall, wiping his glasses, he asked Minnie if she believed the +young man on the steps had risen from a sick bed that morning. + +It was five-o'clock when Harkless climbed the stairs to the "Herald" +office, and his right arm and hand were aching and limp. Below him, as he +reached the landing, he could see boys selling extras containing his +speech (taken by the new reporter), and long accounts of the convention, +of the nominee's career, and the celebration of his home-coming. The sales +were rapid; for no one could resist the opportunity to read in print +descriptions of what his eyes had beheld and his ears had heard that day. + +Ross Schofield was the only person in the editorial room, and there was +nothing in his appearance which should cause a man to start and fall back +from the doorway; but that was what Harkless did. + +"What's the matter, Mr. Harkless?" cried Ross, hurrying forward, fearing +that the other had been suddenly reseized by illness. + +"What are those?" asked Harkless, with a gesture of his hand which seemed +to include the entire room. + +"Those!" repeated Ross, staring blankly. + +"Those rosettes--these streamers--that stovepipe--all this blue ribbon." + +Ross turned pale. "Ribbon?" he said, inquiringly. "Ribbon?" He seemed +unable to perceive the decorations referred to. + +"Yes," answered John; "these rosettes on the chairs, that band, and----" + +"Oh!" Ross exclaimed. "That?" He fingered the band on the stovepipe as if +he saw it for the first time. "Yes; I see." + +"But what are they for?" asked Harkless, touching one of the streamers +curiously. + +"Why--it's--it's likely meant for decorations." + +John picked up the ink-well, staring in complete amazement at the hard +knot of ribbon with which it was garnished. + +"They seem to have been here some time." + +"They have; I reckon they're almost due to be called in. They've be'n up +ever sence--sence----" + +"Who put them up, Ross?" + +"We did." + +"What for?" + +Ross was visibly embarrassed. "Why--fer--fer the other editor." + +"For Mr. Fisbee?" + +"Land, no! You don't suppose we'd go to work and bother to brisken things +up fer that old gentleman, do you?" + +"I meant young Mr. Fisbee--he is the other editor, isn't he?" + +"Oh!" said Ross, coughing. "Young Mr. Fisbee? Yes; we put 'em up fer him." + +"You did! Did he appreciate them?" + +"Well--he seemed to--kind of like 'em." + +"Where is he now? I came here to find him." + +"He's gone." + +"Gone? Hasn't he been here this afternoon?" + +"Yes; some 'the time. Come in and stayed durin' the leevy you was holdin', +and saw the extra off all right." + +"When will he be back?" + +"Sence it's be'n a daily he gits here by eight, after supper, but don't +stay very late; the new man and old Mr. Fisbee and Parker look after +whatever comes in late, unless it's something special. He'll likely be +here by half-past eight at the farthest off." + +"I can't wait till then." John took a quick turn about the room. "I've +been wanting to see him every minute since I got in," he said impatiently, +"and he hasn't been near me. Nobody could even point him out to me. Where +has he gone? I want to see him _now_." + +"Want to discharge him again?" said a voice from the door, and turning, +they saw that Mr. Martin stood there observing them. + +"No," said Harkless; "I want to give him the 'Herald.' Do you know where +he is?" + +Mr. Martin stroked his beard deliberately. "The person you speak of hadn't +ort to be very hard to find--in Carlow. The committee was reckless +enough to hire that carriage of yours by the day, and Keating and Warren +Smith are setting in it up at the corner, with their feet on the cushions +to show they're used to ridin' around with four white horses every day in +the week. It's waitin' till you're ready to go out to Briscoe's. It's an +hour before supper time, and you can talk to young Fisbee all you want. +He's out there." + +As they drove along the pike, Harkless's three companions kept up a +conversation sprightly beyond the mere exhilaration of the victorious; but +John sat almost silent, and, in spite of their liveliness, the others eyed +him a little anxiously now and then, knowing that he had been living on +excitement through a physically exhausting day, and they were fearful lest +his nerves react and bring him to a breakdown. But the healthy flush of +his cheek was reassuring; he looked steady and strong, and they were +pleased to believe that the stirring-up was what he needed. + +It had been a strange and beautiful day to him, begun in anger, but the +sun was not to go down upon his wrath; for his choleric intention had +almost vanished on his homeward way, and the first words Smith had spoken +had lifted the veil of young Fisbee's duplicity, had shown him with what +fine intelligence and supreme delicacy and sympathy young Fisbee had +worked for him, had understood him, and had _made_ him. If the open +assault on McCune had been pressed, and the damnatory evidence published +in Harkless's own paper, while Harkless himself was a candidate and rival, +John would have felt dishonored. The McCune papers could have been used +for Halloway's benefit, but not for his own; he would not ride to success +on another man's ruin; and young Fisbee had understood and had saved him. +It was a point of honor that many would have held finicky and +inconsistent, but one which young Fisbee had comprehended was vital to +Harkless. + +And this was the man he had discharged like a dishonest servant; the man +who had thrown what was (in Carlow's eyes) riches into his lap; the man +who had made his paper, and who had made him, and saved him. Harkless +wanted to see young Fisbee as he longed to see only one other person in +the world. Two singular things had happened that day which made his +craving to see Helen almost unbearable--just to rest his eyes upon her for +a little while, he could ask no more. And as they passed along that well- +remembered road, every tree, every leaf by the wayside, it seemed, spoke +to him and called upon the dear memory of his two walks with her--into +town and out of town, on show-day. He wondered if his heart was to project +a wraith of her before him whenever he was deeply moved, for the rest of +his life. For twice to-day he had seen her whom he knew to be so far away. +She had gone back to her friends in the north, Tom had said. Twice that +afternoon he had been momentarily, but vividly, conscious of her as a +living presence. As he descended from the car at the station, his eyes, +wandering out over the tumultuous crowd, had caught and held a picture for +a second--a graceful arm upraised, and a gloved hand pressed against a +blushing cheek under a hat such as is not worn in Carlow; a little figure +poised apparently in air, full-length above the crowd about her; so, for +the merest flick of time he had seen her, and then, to his straining eyes, +it was as though she were not. She had vanished. And again, as his +carriage reached the Square, a feeling had come to him that she was near +him; that she was looking at him; that he should see her when the carriage +turned; and in the same instant, above the singing of a multitude, he +heard her voice as if there had been no other and once more his dazzled +eyes beheld her for a second; she was singing, and as she sang she leaned +toward him from on high with the most ineffable look of tenderness and +pride and affection he had ever seen on a woman's face; such a look, he +thought, as she would wear if she came to love some archangel (her love +should be no less) with all of her heart and soul and strength. And so he +knew he had seen a vision. But it was a cruel one to visit a man who loved +her. He had summoned his philosophy and his courage in his interview with +himself on the way to Carlow, and they had answered; but nothing could +answer if his eyes were to play him tricks and bring her visibly before +him, and with such an expression as he had seen upon her face. It was too +real. It made his eyes yearn for the sight of her with an ache that was +physical. And even at that moment, he saw, far ahead of them on the road, +two figures standing in front of the brick house. One was unmistakable at +any distance. It was that of old Fisbee; and the other was a girl's: a +light, small figure without a hat, and the low, western sun dwelt on a +head that shone with gold. Harkless put his hand over his eyes with a pain +that was like the taste of hemlock in nectar. + +"Sun in your eyes?" asked Keating, lifting his hat, so as to shield the +other's face. + +"Yes." + +When he looked again, both figures were gone. He made up his mind that he +would think of the only other person who could absorb his attention, at +least for a time; very soon he would stand face to face with the six feet +of brawn and intelligence and manhood that was young Fisbee. + +"You are sure he is there?" he asked Tom Martin. + +"Yes," answered Martin, with no need to inquire whom the editor meant. "I +reckon," he continued, solemnly, peering at the other from under his rusty +hat-brim, "I reckon when you see him, maybe you'll want to put a kind of +codicil to that deed to the 'Herald.'" + +"How's that, Martin?" + +"Why, I guess maybe you'll--well, wait till you see him." + +"I don't want to wait much longer, when I remember what I owe him and how +I have used him, and that I have been here nearly three hours without +seeing him." + +As they neared the brick house Harkless made out, through the trees, a +retreative flutter of skirts on the porch, and the thought crossed his +mind that Minnie had flown indoors to give some final directions toward +the preparation of the banquet; but when the barouche halted at the gate, +he was surprised to see her waving to him from the steps, while Tom +Meredith and Mr. Bence and Mr. Boswell formed a little court around her. +Lige Willetts rode up on horse back at the same moment, and the judge was +waiting in front of the gate. Harkless stepped out of the barouche and +took his hand. + +"I was told young Fisbee was here." + +"Young Fisbee is here," said the judge. + +"Where, please, Briscoe?" + +"Want to see him right off?" + +"I do, very much." + +"You'll withdraw his discharge, I expect, now?" + +"Ah!" exclaimed the other. "I want to make him a present of the 'Herald,' +if he'll take it." He fumed to Meredith, who had come to the gate. "Tom, +where is he?" + +Meredith put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and answered: "I don't +know. God bless you, old fellow!" + +"The truth is," said the judge, as they entered the gate, "that when you +drove up, young Fisbee ran into the house. Minnie--" He turned, but his +daughter had disappeared; however, she came to the door, a moment later, +and shook her head mysteriously at her father. + +"Not in the house," she said. + +Mr. Fisbee came around the corner of the porch and went toward Harkless. +"Fisbee," cried the latter, "where is your nephew?" + +The old man took his hand in both his own, and looked him between the +eyes, and thus stood, while there was a long pause, the others watching +them. + +"You must not say that I told you," he said at last. "Go into the garden." + +But when Harkless's step crunched the garden path there was no one there. +Asters were blooming in beds between the green rose-bushes, and their +many-fingered hands were flung open in wide surprise that he should expect +to find young Fisbee there. It was just before sunset. Birds were +gossiping in the sycamores on the bank. At the foot of the garden, near +the creek, there were some tall hydrangea bushes, flower-laden, and, +beyond them, one broad shaft of the sun smote the creek bends for a mile +in that flat land, and crossed the garden like a bright, taut-drawn veil. +Harkless passed the bushes and stepped out into this gold brilliance. Then +he uttered a cry and stopped. + +Helen was standing beside the hydrangeas, with both hands against her +cheeks and her eyes fixed on the ground. She had run away as far as she +could run; there were high fences extending down to the creek on each +side, and the water was beyond. + +"_You_!" he said. "_You--you_!" + +She did not lift her eyes, but began to move away from him with little +backward steps. When she reached the bench on the bank, she spoke with a +quick intake of breath and in a voice he scarcely heard. It was the merest +whisper, and her words came so slowly that sometimes minutes separated +them. + +"Can you--will you keep me--on the 'Herald'?" + +"Keep you----" + +"Will you--let me--help?" + +He came near her. "I don't understand. Is it you--you--who are here +again?" + +"Have you--forgiven me? You know now why I wouldn't--resign? You forgive +my--that telegram?" + +"What telegram?" + +"That one that came to you--this morning." + +"_Your_ telegram?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you send me one?" + +"Yes." + +"It did not come to me." + +"Yes--it did." + +"But there--What was it about?" + +"It was signed," she said, "it was signed--" She paused and turned half +way, not lifting the downcast lashes; her hand, laid upon the arm of the +bench, was shaking; she put it behind her. Then her eyes were lifted a +little, and, though they did not meet his, he saw them, and a strange, +frightened glory leaped in his heart. Her voice fell still lower and two +heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. "It was signed," she whispered, "it +was signed--'H. Fisbee.'" + +He began to tremble from head to foot. There was a long silence. She had +turned quite away from him. When he spoke, his voice was as low as hers, +and he spoke as slowly as she had. + +"You mean--then--it was--you?" + +"Yes." + +"You!" + +"Yes." + +"And you have been here all the time?" + +"All--all except the week you were--hurt, and that--that one evening." + +The bright veil which wrapped them was drawn away, and they stood in the +silent, gathering dusk. + +He tried to loosen his neck-band; it seemed to be choking him. "I--I +can't--I don't comprehend it. I am trying to realize what it----" + +"It means nothing," she answered. + +"There was an editorial, yesterday," he said, "an editorial that I thought +was about Rodney McCune. Did you write it?" + +"Yes." + +"It was about--me--wasn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"It said--it said--that I had won the love of every person in Carlow +County." + +Suddenly she found her voice. "Do not misunderstand me," she said rapidly. +"I have done the little that I have done out of gratitude." She faced him +now, but without meeting his eyes. "I told you, remember, that you would +understand some day what I meant by that, and the day has come. I owed you +more gratitude than a woman ever owed a man before, I think, and I would +have died to pay a part of it. I set every gossip's tongue in Rouen +clacking at the very start, in the merest amateurish preparation for the +work Mr. Macauley gave me. That was nothing. And the rest has been the +happiest time in my life. I have only pleased myself, after all!" + +"What gratitude did you owe me?" + +"What gratitude? For what you did for my father." + +"I have only seen your father once in my life--at your table at the dance +supper, that night." + +"Listen. My father is a gentle old man with white hair and kind eyes. You +saw my uncle, that night; he has been as good to me as a father, since I +was seven years old, and he gave me his name by law and I lived with him. +My father came to see me once a year; I never came to see him. He always +told me everything was well with him; that his life was happy. Once he +lost the little he had left to him in the world, his only way of making +his living. He had no friends; he was hungry and desperate, and he +wandered. I was dancing and going about wearing jewels--only--I did not +know. All the time the brave heart wrote me happy letters. I should have +known, for there was one who did, and who saved him. When at last I came +to see my father, he told me. He had written of his idol before; but it +was not till I came that he told it all to me. Do you know what I felt? +While his daughter was dancing cotillions, a stranger had taken his hand-- +and--" A sob rose in her throat and checked her utterance for a moment; +but she threw up her head and met his eyes proudly. "Gratitude, Mr. +Harkless!" she cried. "I am James Fisbee's daughter." + +He fell back from the bench with a sharp exclamation, and stared at her +through the gray twilight. She went on hurriedly, again not looking at +him: + +"When you showed me that you cared for me--when you told me that you did-- +I--do you think I wanted to care for you? I wanted to do something to show +you that I could be ashamed of my vile neglect of him--something to show +you his daughter could be grateful. If I had loved you, what I did would +have been for that--and I could not have done it. And how could I have +shown my gratitude if I had done it for love? And it has been such dear, +happy work, the little I have done, that it seems, after all, that I have +done it for love of myself. But--but when you first told me--" She broke +off with a strange, fluttering, half inarticulate little laugh that was +half tears; and then resumed in another tone: "When you told me you cared +that night--that night we were here--how could I be sure? It had been only +two days, you see, and even if I could have been sure of myself, why, I +couldn't have told you. Oh! I had so brazenly thrown myself at your head, +time and again, those two days, in my--my worship of your goodness to my +father and my excitement in recognizing in his friend the hero of my +girlhood, that you had every right to think I cared; but if--but if I had +--if I had--loved you with my whole soul, I could not have--why, no woman +could have--I mean the sort of girl I am couldn't have admitted it--must +have denied it. And what I was trying to do for you when we met in Rouen +was--was courting you. You surely see I couldn't have done it if I had +cared. It would have been brazen! And do you think that then I could have +answered--'Yes'--even if I wanted to--even if I had been sure of myself? +And now--" Her voice sank again to a whisper. "And now----" + +From the meadows across the creek, and over the fields, came a far +tinkling of farm-bells. Three months ago, at this hour, John Harkless had +listened to that sound, and its great lonesomeness had touched his heart +like a cold hand; but now, as the mists were rising from the water and the +small stars pierced the sky one by one, glinting down through the dim, +immeasurable blue distances, he found no loneliness in heaven or earth. He +leaned forward toward her; the bench was between them. The last light was +gone; evening had fallen. + +"And now--" he said. + +She moved backward as he leaned nearer. + +"You promised to remember on the day you understood," she answered, a +little huskily, "that it was all from the purest gratitude." + +"And--and there is nothing else?" + +"If there were," she said, and her voice grew more and more unsteady, "if +there were, can't you see that what I have done--" She stopped, and then, +suddenly, "Ah, it would have been _brazen_!" + +He looked up at the little stars and he heard the bells, and they struck +into his heart like a dirge. He made a singular gesture of abnegation, and +then dropped upon the bench with his head bowed between his hands. + +She pressed her hand to her bosom, watching him in a startled fashion, her +eyes wide and her lips parted. She took a few quick, short steps toward +the garden, still watching him over her shoulder. + +"You mustn't worry," he said, not lifting his bent head, "I know you're +sorry. I'll be all right in a minute." + +She gave a hurried glance from right to left and from left to right, like +one in terror seeking a way of escape; she gathered her skirts in her +hand, as if to run into the garden; but suddenly she turned and ran to +him--ran to him swiftly, with her great love shining from her eyes. She +sank upon her knees beside him. She threw her arms about his neck and +kissed him on the forehead. + +"Oh, my dear, don't you see?" she whispered, "don't you see--don't you +see?" + +When they heard the judge calling from the orchard, they went back through +the garden toward the house. It was dark; the whitest asters were but gray +splotches. There was no one in the orchard; Briscoe had gone indoors. +"Did you know you are to drive me into town in the phaeton for the +fireworks?" she asked. + +"Fireworks?" + +"Yes; the Great Harkless has come home." + +Even in the darkness he could see the look the vision had given him when +the barouche turned into the Square. She smiled upon him and said, "All +afternoon I was wishing I could have been your mother." + +He clasped her hand more tightly. "This wonderful world!" he cried. +"Yesterday I had a doctor--a doctor to cure me of love-sickness!" + +They went on a little way. "We must hurry," she said. "I am sure they have +been waiting for us." This was true; they had. + +From the dining-room came laughter and hearty voices, and the windows were +bright with the light of many lamps. By and by, they stood just outside +the patch of light that fell from one of the windows. + +"Look," said Helen. "Aren't they good, dear people?" + +"The beautiful people!" he answered. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Gentleman From Indiana, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA *** + +This file should be named gfind10.txt or gfind10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, gfind11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, gfind10a.txt + +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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