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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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