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-<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of At the Crossroads, by Harriet T. Comstock.</title>
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-<body>
-<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30095 ***</div>
-
-<h1>AT THE CROSSROADS</h1>
-<hr class='pb' />
-<table summary='' style='border:1px solid black; margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px'>
-<tr>
- <td><p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;'>BOOKS BY<br />HARRIET T. COMSTOCK</p></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
- <td><hr style='border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black;' /></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
- <td>
- <p style='margin-left:1em;'>
- <span class='smcap'>A Little Dusky Hero</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>A Son of the Hills</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>At the Crossroads</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>Camp Brave Pine</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>Janet of the Dunes</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>Joyce of the North Woods</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>Mam’selle Jo</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>Princess Rags and Tatters</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>The Man Thou Gavest</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>The Place Beyond the Winds</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>The Shield of Silence</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>The Vindication</span><br />
- <span class='smcap'>Unbroken Lines</span></p>
- </td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-<hr class='pb' />
-<div class='figtag'>
-<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a>
-</div>
-<div class='figcenter'>
-<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' width='371' height='561' /><br />
-<p class='caption'>
-“<i>It might have seemed an empty house but for the appearance<br />
-of care and a curl of smoke from the chimney.</i>”<br />
-</p>
-</div>
-<hr class='pb' />
-<table style="background-image:url('images/img-title.png'); width:444px; height:644px; margin:auto;" summary="title page">
-<tr><td>
-<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.6em;margin-bottom:15px;'>At the Crossroads</p>
-<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;'>BY</p>
-<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.6em;'>HARRIET T. COMSTOCK</p>
-</td></tr>
-<tr><td align='center'>
-<div style='margin:0 auto; text-align:center;'>
-<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.jpg' />
-</div>
-</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td>
-<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>FRONTISPIECE<br />BY<br />WALTER DE MARIS</p>
-<p class='tp' >GARDEN CITY NEW YORK</p>
-<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;'>DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</p>
-<p class='tp' >1922</p>
-</td></tr>
-</table>
-<hr class='pb' />
-<p class='tp' style='margin-top:20px;font-size:smaller;'>COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY<br />DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</p>
-<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:10px;'>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION<br />INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</p>
-<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em;margin-bottom:20px;'>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES<br />AT<br />THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y.</p>
-<hr class='pb' />
-<h2>AT THE CROSSROADS</h2>
-<hr class='pb' />
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div>
-<h2>AT THE CROSSROADS</h2>
-<p>The great turning points of life are often rounded unconsciously.
-Invisible tides hurry us on and only
-when we are well past the curve do we realize what has
-happened to us.</p>
-<p>Brace Northrup, sitting in Doctor Manly’s office, smoking
-and ruminating, was not conscious of turning points or tides;
-he was sluggish and depressed; wallowing in the after-effects
-of a serious illness.</p>
-<p>Manly, sitting across the hearth from his late patient––he
-had shoved him out of that category––regarded him from
-the viewpoint of a friend.</p>
-<p>Manly was impressionistic in his methods of thought and
-expression. Every stroke told.</p>
-<p>The telephone had not rung for fifteen minutes but both
-men knew its potentialities and wanted to make the most of
-the silence.</p>
-<p>“Oh! I confess,” Northrup admitted, “that my state of
-gloom is due more to the fact that I cannot write than to my
-sickness. I’m done for!”</p>
-<p>Manly looked at his friend and scowled.</p>
-<p>“Rot!” he ejaculated. Then added: “The world would
-not perish if you didn’t write again.”</p>
-<p>“I’m not thinking about the world,” Northrup was intent
-upon the fire, “it’s how the fact is affecting me. The world
-can accept or decline, but I am made helpless. You see my
-work is the only real, vital thing I have clawed out of life,
-by my own efforts, Manly; that means a lot to a fellow.”</p>
-<p>Manly continued to scowl. Had Northrup been watching
-him he might have gained encouragement, for Manly’s scowls
-were proof of his deeply moved sympathies.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span></div>
-<p>“The trouble with you, old man,” he presently said, “is
-this: You’ve been dangerously ill; you thought you were
-going to slip out, and so did I, and all the others. You’re like
-the man who fell on the battlefield and thought his legs were
-shot off. You’ve got to get up and learn to walk again.
-We’re all suggesting the wrong thing to you. Go where
-people don’t know, don’t care a damn for you. Take to the
-road. That ink-slinging self that you are hankering after is
-just ahead. You’ll overtake it, but it will never turn back
-for you––the self that you are now.”</p>
-<p>Manly fidgeted. He hated to talk. Then Northrup said
-something that brought Manly to his feet––and to several
-minutes of restless striding about the room.</p>
-<p>“Manly, while I was at my worst I couldn’t tell whether it
-was delirium or sanity, I saw that Thing across the
-water, the Thing that for lack of a better name we call war, in
-quite a new light. It’s what has got us all and is shaking
-us into consciousness. We’re going to know the true from
-the false when this passes. My God! Manly, I wonder if
-any of us know what is true and what isn’t? Ideals, nations,
-folks!”</p>
-<p>Northrup’s face flushed.</p>
-<p>“See here, old man,” Manly paused, set his legs wide apart
-as if to balance himself and pointed a finger at Northrup,
-“You’ve got to cut all this out and––beat it! Whatever that
-damned thing is over there, it isn’t our mess. It’s the eruption
-of a volcano that’s been bubbling and sizzling for years.
-The lava’s flowing now, a hot black filth, but it’s going to stop
-before it reaches us.”</p>
-<p>“I wonder, Manly, I wonder. It’s more like a divining
-rod to me, finding souls.”</p>
-<p>“Very well. Now I’m going to put an ugly fact up to you,
-Northrup. Your body is all right, but your nerves are
-frayed and unless you mind your step you’re going to go
-dippy. Catch on? There are places where nothing happens.
-Nothing ever has happened. Go and find such a hole
-and stay in it a month, six weeks––longer, if you can. Be a
-part of the nothingness and save your life. Break all the
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span>
-commandments, if there are any, but don’t look back! I’ve
-seen big cures come from letting go! I’ll look after your
-mother and Kathryn.”</p>
-<p>The telephone here interrupted.</p>
-<p>“All right! all right!” snapped Manly into the receiver,
-“set the operation for ten to-morrow and have the hair
-shaved from the side of her head.”</p>
-<p>Then he turned back to Northrup as if disfiguring a woman
-were a matter of no importance.</p>
-<p>“The fact is, Northrup, most of us get glued to our own
-narrow slits in the wall, most of us are chained to them by our
-jobs and we get to squinting, if we don’t get blinded. I’m
-not saying that we don’t each have a slit and should know it;
-but your job requires moving about and peering through
-other fellows’ slits, and lately, ever since that last book
-of yours, you’ve kept to your hole; the fever caught you
-at the wrong time and this mess across seas has got mixed
-up with it all until you’re no use to yourself or any one else.
-Beat it!”</p>
-<p>Something like a wave of fresh air seemed to have entered
-the quiet, warm room. Northrup raised his head. Manly
-took heed and rambled on; he saw that he was making an impression
-at last.</p>
-<p>“Queer things jog you into consciousness when you detach
-yourself from your moorings. A mountain-top, a baby’s hold
-on your finger, when you’re about to hurt it. A sunset, a
-woman’s face; a moment when you realize your soul! You’re
-never the same after, Northrup, but you do your job better
-and your slit in the wall is wider. Man, you need a jog.”</p>
-<p>“What jogged you, Manly?”</p>
-<p>This was daring. People rarely questioned Manly.</p>
-<p>“It was seeing my soul!” Quite simply the answer came.</p>
-<p>There was a long, significant silence. Both men had to
-travel back to the commonplace and they felt their way
-gingerly.</p>
-<p>“Northrup, drop things. It is your friend speaking now.
-Go where the roar and rumble of what doesn’t concern you
-haven’t reached. Good-night.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span></div>
-<p>Northrup got up slowly.</p>
-<p>“I wonder if there is such a place?” he muttered.</p>
-<p>“Sure, old man. Outside of this old sounding-board of
-New York, there are nooks where nothing even echoes.
-Usually you find good fishing in them. Come now, get out!”</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_I' id='CHAPTER_I'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Brace Northrup received the first intimation of
-his jog when he knocked on the door of a certain
-little yellow house set rakishly at the crossroads, a
-few miles from King’s Forest.</p>
-<p>The house gave the impression of wanting to go somewhere
-but had not decided upon the direction. Its many windows
-of shining glass were like wide-open eyes peering cheerfully
-forth on life, curiously interested and hopeful. The shades,
-if there were any, were rolled from sight. It might have
-seemed an empty house but for the appearance of care and a
-curl of smoke from the chimney.</p>
-<p>Northrup walked across the bit of lawn leading, pathless,
-to the stone step, and knocked on the door. It was a very
-conservative knock but instantly the door swung in––it was
-that kind of a door, a welcoming door––and Northrup was
-precipitated into a room which, at first glance, appeared to
-be full of sunlight, children, and dogs.</p>
-<p>As a matter of fact there were two or three little children
-and an older girl with a strange, vague face; four dogs and a
-young person seated on the edge of a table and engaged, apparently,
-before Northrup’s arrival, in telling so thrilling a
-story that the small, absorbed audience barely noted his entrance.
-They turned mildly interested eyes upon him much
-as they might have upon an unnecessary illustration adorning
-the tale.</p>
-<p>The figure on the table wore rough knickerbockers, high,
-rather muddy boots, a loose jacket, and a cap set crookedly on
-the head. When Northrup spoke, the young person turned
-and he saw that it was a woman. There was no surprise, at
-first, in the eyes which met Northrup’s––the door of the little
-yellow house was constantly admitting visitors––but suddenly
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span>
-the expression changed to one of startled wonder. It was
-the expression of one who, never expecting a surprise, suddenly
-is taken unawares.</p>
-<p>“I beg your pardon!” stammered Northrup. “I assure
-you I did knock. I merely want to ask the direction and
-distance of Heathcote Inn. Crossroads are so confusing
-when one is tired and hungry and–––”</p>
-<p>Once having begun to speak, Northrup was too embarrassed
-to stop. The eyes confronting him were most disconcerting.
-They smiled; they seemed to be glad he was
-there; the girl apparently was enjoying the situation.</p>
-<p>“The inn is three miles down the south road; the lake is
-just beyond. Follow that. They serve dinner at the inn
-at one.”</p>
-<p>The voice was like the eyes, friendly, vital, and lovely.</p>
-<p>Then, as if staged, a clock set on a high shelf announced
-in crisp, terse tones the hour of twelve.</p>
-<p>“Thank you.”</p>
-<p>That was all. The incident was closed and Northrup
-backed out, drawing the humorous door after him. As the
-latch caught he heard a thin, reedy voice, probably belonging
-to the vague girl, say:</p>
-<p>“Now that he’s gone, please go on. You got to where–––”</p>
-<p>Northrup found himself at the crossroads where, five minutes
-before, he had stood, and there, in plain sight of any one
-not marked by Fate for a turning-point, was a sign-board in
-perfectly good condition, stating the fact that if one followed
-the direction, indicated by a long, tapering finger, for three
-miles, he would come to Heathcote Inn, “Open All the Year.”</p>
-<p>“The girl must take me for a fool, or worse!” thought
-Northrup. Then he was conscious of a feeling that he had
-left something behind him in that room he had just invaded.
-But no! His gripsack was securely fastened on his back, his
-walking stick was in his hand, his hat upon his head. Still he
-felt that lack of something.</p>
-<p>“It’s the air!” Northrup sniffed it. “I’m as hungry as a
-wolf, too. Hungry as I used to be twenty years ago.”
-Northrup was twenty-seven. “Lord! what a day.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div>
-<p>It was a day with which to reckon, there was no doubt
-about that. An autumn day of silence, crispness, and colour.
-Suddenly, something Manly had said came hurtingly into
-Northrup’s consciousness: “... <i>or a woman’s face!</i>”</p>
-<p>Then, because of the day and a certain regained strength,
-Northrup laughed and shook off that impression of having
-left something behind him and set off at a brisk rate on the
-road to the inn. He soon came to the lake. It lay to the
-right of the road. The many-coloured hills rose protectingly
-on the left. All along the edge of the water a flaming trail
-of sumach marked the curves where the obliging land withdrew
-as the lake intruded.</p>
-<p>“I might be a thousand miles from home,” Northrup
-thought as he swung along.</p>
-<p>In reality, he had been only a week on his way and had
-taken it easy. He had made no plans; had walked until he
-was weary, had slept where he could find quarters, and was
-doing what he had all his life wanted to do, and which at
-last Manly had given him courage to do: leave the self that
-circumstances had evolved and take to the open trail, seeking,
-as Manly had figuratively put it, his real self.</p>
-<p>During his long illness reality seemed to have fallen from
-his perceptions––or was it unreality? He knew that he must
-find out or he could never again hope to take his place among
-men with any assurance. As far as he could he must cut himself
-off from the past, blot out the time-honoured prejudices
-that might or might not be legitimate. He must settle that
-score!</p>
-<p>Northrup was a tall, lean man with a slant of the body that
-suggested resistance. His face, too, carried out the impression.
-The eyes, deep set and keenly gray, brooded questioningly
-when the humour of a situation did not control them.
-The mouth was not an architectural mouth; the lines had
-been evolved; the mouth was still in the making. It might
-become hard or bitter: it could never become cruel. There
-was hope in the firm jaw, and the week of outdoor air and
-sun had done much to remove the pallor of sickness and
-harden the muscles.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span></div>
-<p>With every mile that set him apart from his old environment
-the eyes grew less gloomy; the lines of the mouth more
-relaxed: in fact, Northrup’s appearance at that moment might
-have made Manly sympathize with the creator of Frankenstein.
-The released Northrup held startling possibilities.</p>
-<p>Striding ahead, whistling, swinging his stick, he permitted
-himself to recall the face of the woman in the yellow house.
-He had taken the faces of women in the past largely for
-granted. They represented types, ages, periods. Only once
-before had he become aware of what Life, as he had not
-known it, could do to women’s faces: While he was writing
-his last book––the one that had lifted him from a low literary
-level and set him hopefully upon a higher––he had lived, for a
-time, on the lower East Side of New York; had confronted
-the ugly results of an existence evolved from chance, not design.</p>
-<p>But this last face––Life had done something to it that he
-could not comprehend. What was it? Then Northrup
-suddenly concluded that Life had done nothing to it––had, in
-fact, left it alone. At this point, Northrup resorted to detail.
-Her eyes were almost golden: the lashes made them seem
-darker. The face was young and yet it held that expression
-of age that often marks the faces of children: a wondering
-look, yet sweetly contemptuous: not quite confident, but
-amused.</p>
-<p>Now he had it! The face was like a mirror; it reflected
-thought and impression. Life had had nothing to do with it.
-Very good, so far.</p>
-<p>“And her voice! Queer voice to be found here”––Northrup
-was keen about voices; they instantly affected him.
-“Her voice had tones in it that vibrated. It might be the
-product of––well, everything which it probably wasn’t.”</p>
-<p>This was laughable.</p>
-<p>Northrup would not have been surprised at that moment
-to have seen The Face in the flaming bushes by the roadside.</p>
-<p>“I wonder if there is any habitation between that yellow
-house and the inn?” He pulled himself together and strode
-on. Hunger and weariness were overcoming moods and
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span>
-fancies. There was not. The gold and scarlet hills rose unbroken
-to the left and the road wound divertingly by the
-lake.</p>
-<p>There was no wind; scarcely a stirring of the leaves, but
-birds sang and fish darted in the clear water that reflected the
-colour and form of every branch and twig.</p>
-<p>In another half hour Northrup saw the inn on ahead. He
-knew it at once from a picture-card he had bought earlier in
-the day. It set so close to the lake as to give the impression
-of getting its feet wet. It was a long, low white building with
-more windows, doors, and chimneys than seemed necessary.
-Everything looked trim and neat and smoke curled briskly
-above the hospitable house. There were, apparently, many
-fires in action, and they bespoke comfort and food.</p>
-<p>Northrup, upon reaching the inn, saw that a mere strip of
-lawn separated it from the road and lake, the piazza was on
-a level with the ground and three doors gave choice of entrance
-to the wayfarer. Northrup chose the one near the
-middle and respectfully tapped on it, drawing back instantly.
-He did not mean to have a second joke played upon
-him by doors.</p>
-<p>There was a stirring inside, a dog gave a sleepy grunt, and
-a man’s voice called out:</p>
-<p>“The bolt’s off.”</p>
-<p>It would seem that doors were incidental barriers in King’s
-Forest. No one was expected to regard them seriously.</p>
-<p>Northrup entered and then stood still.</p>
-<p>He was alive to impressions, and this second room, within
-a short space of time, had power, also, to arouse surprise.
-There was no sunlight here––the overshadowing piazza prevented
-that––but there were two enormous fireplaces, one at
-either end of the large room, and upon the hearths of both
-generous fires were burning ruddily.</p>
-<p>By the one nearer to Northrup sat a man with a bandaged
-leg stretched out before him on a stool, and a gold-and-white
-collie at his side. The man was elderly, stout, and imposing.
-His curly gray hair sprang––no other word conveyed the impression
-of the vitality and alertness of the hair––above a
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span>
-rosy, genial face; the eyes were small, keen, and full of humour,
-the voice had already given a suggestion of welcome.</p>
-<p>“You are Mr. Heathcote, I suppose?”</p>
-<p>Northrup was subconsciously aware of the good old mahogany
-furniture; the well-kept appearance of everything.</p>
-<p>“You’ve struck it right. Will you set?”</p>
-<p>“Thanks.”</p>
-<p>Northrup took the chair opposite the master of the inn.</p>
-<p>“My name is Northrup, Brace Northrup from New York.”</p>
-<p>“Footing it?” Heathcote was rapidly making one of his
-sudden estimates; generally he did not take the trouble to
-do this, but some people called forth his approval or disapproval
-at once.</p>
-<p>“Yes. I’ve taken my time, been a week on the way and,
-incidentally, recovering from an illness.”</p>
-<p>“Pausing or staying on?”</p>
-<p>Northrup meant to say “pausing”; instead he found himself
-stating that he’d like to stay on if he could be accommodated.</p>
-<p>“We’ll have to consult Aunt Polly as to that,” said Heathcote.
-“You see I’m rather off my legs just now. Gander!
-Great bird, that gander. He lit out two weeks ago and cut
-me to the bone with his wing. He’s got a wing like a hatchet.
-I’ll be about in a day or two and taking command, but until
-then I have to let my sister have her say as to what burdens
-she feels she can carry.”</p>
-<p>For a moment Northrup regarded himself, mentally, as a
-burden. It was a new sensation and he felt like putting up a
-plea; but before he could frame one Heathcote gave a low
-whistle and almost at once a door at the rear opened, admitting
-a fragrance of delectable food and the smallest woman
-Northrup had ever seen. That so fragile a creature could
-bear any responsibility outside that due herself, was difficult
-to comprehend until one looked into the strange, clear eyes
-peering through glasses, set awry. Unquenchable youth and
-power lay deep in those piercing eyes; there was force that
-could command the slight body to do its bidding.</p>
-<p>“Polly, this is Mr. Northrup, from New York”––was there
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span>
-lurking amusement in the tone?––“He wants to stop on;
-what do you say? It’s up to you and don’t hesitate to speak
-your mind.”</p>
-<p>The woman regarded the candidate for her favour much as
-she might have a letter of introduction; quite impersonally
-but decidedly judicially.</p>
-<p>“If Mr. Northrup will take pot luck and <i>as is</i>, I think he
-can stay, brother.”</p>
-<p>Northrup had an unreasoning sense of relief. All his life
-his pulses quickened when what he desired seemed about to
-elude him. He smiled, now, like a boy.</p>
-<p>“Thank you,” he ventured, “you’ll find me most grateful
-and adaptable.”</p>
-<p>“Well, since that’s settled,” Aunt Polly seemed to pigeonhole
-her guest and label him as an individual, “I’ll run out and
-lay another plate. You just go along upstairs and pick out
-your room. They are all ready. The front ones open to the
-lake and the west; the back ones are east and woodsy; outside
-of that there isn’t much choice. It’s one o’ clock now, but I
-can put things back a spell and give you a chance to wash
-before dinner.”</p>
-<p>Northrup picked up his bag and hat and started for the
-stairs at the far end of the room. The sense of unreality was
-still upon him. He felt like breathing low and stepping light.
-The sensation smacked of magic. So long as one could believe
-it, it would hold, but once you doubted, the old, grim
-existence would snatch you!</p>
-<p>Upstairs the hall ran from north to south of the rambling
-house, on either side the doors opened, leading to small,
-orderly rooms, apparently alike except in detail of colour and
-placing of furniture. There was a hearth in every room, upon
-which lay wood ready to light and beside which stood huge
-baskets of logs giving promise of unlimited comfort. Fresh
-towels and water were on stands, and the beds fairly reached
-out to tired bodies with assurances of rest and sleep. Northrup
-went, still treading light and believing, from door to door,
-and then he chose a west room because the lapping of the lake
-sounded like a lullaby.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></div>
-<p>It was the work of a few moments to drop dust-stained garments
-and plunge one’s head into the icy water; a few moments
-more and a refreshed man emerged from a vigorous
-rubbing and gave a laugh of sheer delight.</p>
-<p>“I’m in for it!” he muttered, still clinging to the mood of
-unreality. “I bet my last nickel that something’s going to
-happen and by the lord Harry! I’m going to see it through.
-This is one of those holes Manly prophesied about. Looks
-as if it had been waiting for me to come.”</p>
-<p>He was downstairs in time to help his host to the head of
-his table, in the adjoining room. They made rather an imposing
-procession, Aunt Polly leading, the golden collie bringing
-up the rear.</p>
-<p>Heathcote in a fat whisper gave some staccato advice en
-route: “Better call sister ‘Aunt Polly’ at once. If you don’t
-suggest offishness, none will be suspected. Fall in line, I say!
-Dog’s name is Ginger. Animals like to be tagged, more
-human-like. Act as if you always had been, or had come
-back. If there’s one thing Polly can’t abide, it’s hitting a
-snag.”</p>
-<p>Devoutly Northrup vowed he’d be no snag.</p>
-<p>He took his place on the east side of the table, so to speak,
-and the lake was in front of him. The lake was becoming a
-vital feature in the new environment.</p>
-<p>The water was ruffled now; the reflections trembled and the
-lapping was more insistent.</p>
-<p>The food was excellent. Aunt Polly had prepared it and
-watched, with a true artist’s eye, her guest’s appreciation of
-it.</p>
-<p>“Food is just food to some folks,” she confided, casting a
-slantwise glance at her brother, “just what you might call
-fodder. But I allas have held that, viewed rightly, it feeds
-body <i>and</i> soul.”</p>
-<p>Heathcote chuckled.</p>
-<p>“And right you are, Aunt Polly!” Northrup said, watching
-the effect of his familiarity. Nothing occurred. He
-was being taken for granted.</p>
-<p>Bits of history crept into the easy conversation during the
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
-meal. Apparently meal-time was a function at the inn, not
-an episode.</p>
-<p>Heathcote and his sister, it appeared, had come to King’s
-Forest for his health, fifty years before. He was twenty
-then; Aunt Polly eighteen.</p>
-<p>“Just like silly pioneers,” Polly broke in, “but we found
-health and work and we grew to love the place. We feel
-toward it as one does to an adopted child, less understanding,
-but more responsible. Every once so often, when we got
-into ruts, God Almighty made us realize that He was keeping
-His hand on the reins,” the dear old soul chuckled happily.
-“Peter got himself made into a magistrate and that was
-something to work with. We made a home and friends, but
-the Forest isn’t an easy proposition. It ain’t changed much.
-It’s lazy and rough, and I often tell Peter that the place is
-like two old folks over on the Point, Twombley and Peneluna.
-Still and scroogy, but keeping up a mighty lot of thinking.
-If anything ever wakes the Forest up it’s going to show what
-it’s been cogitating about.”</p>
-<p>“Is there a village?” Northrup asked.</p>
-<p>“There’s one seven miles from here,” Heathcote replied;
-“stores, post office, a Methodist minister––necessary evils,
-you know,” this came with a fat chuckle, “but the Forest
-ain’t anything but the Forest. Houses sorter dropped down
-carelesslike where someone’s fancy fixed ’em. There used
-to be a church and school. The school burned down; the
-church, half finished, stands like a hint for better living, on a
-little island a half mile down the line. There’s the Point
-where the folks live as can’t get a footing elsewhere. There’s
-always a Point or a Hollow, you know. And there’s the
-Mines, back some miles to the south. Iron that used to be
-worked. Queer holdings!”</p>
-<p>Peter paused. Sustained conversation always made him
-pant and gave Polly an opportunity to edge in.</p>
-<p>“As I was saying,” she began calmly, “every once so
-often God Almighty made us realize that He had His hand
-on the reins. When me and Peter got to acting as if we
-owned things, someone new happened along and––stuck.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></div>
-<p>“First there was old Doctor Rivers. We never rightly
-knew where he came from, or why. By and by we got to
-feeling we best showed our love and respect by not wondering
-about him.</p>
-<p>“Then after the doctor did his stint and left his mark,
-Maclin came. We’re studying over Maclin yet. He bought
-the Mines and kinder settled down on us all like a heavy air
-that ain’t got any set of the wind.”</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly was picturesque. Peter eyed her admiringly
-and gave his comfortable chuckle.</p>
-<p>“Sister holds,” he explained, “that the Forest isn’t the
-God-forsaken place it looks to be, but is a rich possibility.
-I differ, and that is what queers Maclin with us. His buying
-those wore-out mines and saying he’s going to <i>make</i> the
-Forest is damaging evidence against him. He ain’t no fool:
-then what is he? That’s what we’re conjuring with. Maclin
-ain’t seeing himself in partnership with the Almighty,
-not he! One-man firm for Maclin.”</p>
-<p>“Now, brother!” Polly remarked while Heathcote was
-catching his breath, “I say give a good doubt to a man
-till you have to give a bad one. We’ve no right to judge
-Maclin yet, he’s only just begun to have his say-so out loud,
-and put out feelers.”</p>
-<p>“And now”––Peter put his plate down for the faithful
-Ginger to lap clean, and prepared to rise––“and now, you’ve
-come, stranger. When you hesitated a time back as to
-whether you was pausing or staying on, I just held my breath,
-and when you slapped out, ‘staying on,’ I thought to myself,
-‘Now, which is he, a dispensation of Providence or just a
-plain passer-by?’”</p>
-<p>Northrup smiled grimly. This all fitted into his own
-vague mood of unreality.</p>
-<p>“You mustn’t take me seriously,” he said, going around
-the table to help his host. “I’m as ordinary as the majority.
-I like the looks of things here. I stop and enjoy
-myself, and pass on! That’s the usual way, isn’t it?”</p>
-<p>“Yes”––Polly began gathering the dishes––“it’s what happens
-while one stops, that counts. That, and what one
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span>
-leaves behind, when he passes on. It’s real queer, though,
-to have any one staying on this season of the year.”</p>
-<p>During the afternoon Northrup wandered in the woods
-which rose abruptly from behind the house. So still was the
-brilliant forest that a falling leaf startled him and a scurrying
-creature among the bushes set his nerves tingling. Then
-it was that the haunting face and voice of the girl in the little
-yellow house rose again with an insistence that could not be
-disregarded. It dominated his thought; it was part of this
-strange sense of shadowy and coming events; it refused to be
-set aside.</p>
-<p>It did not mock him––he could have dealt with that phase––it
-pleaded. It seemed to implore him to accept it along
-with his quickened pulses; the colour of the autumn day; the
-sweetness of the smell of crushed leaves; the sound of lapping
-water; the song of birds.</p>
-<p>“I wonder who she is, and why she looks as she does?”</p>
-<p>Northrup ceased to scoff at his fancy; he wooed it. He pictured
-the girl’s hair loose from the rough cap––curly, rather
-wild hair with an uplift in every tendril. What colour was
-it? Gold-brown probably, like the eyes. For five minutes
-he tried to decide this but knew that he would have to see it
-again to make sure.</p>
-<p>The face was a small face, but it was strong and unutterably
-appealing. A hungry little face; a face whose soul was
-ill-nourished, a contradictory face.</p>
-<p>Northrup called himself to order just here. He wasn’t
-going to be an ass, not if he could help it!</p>
-<p>“Strange voice!” he thought on. “It had <i>calls</i> in it.
-I <i>am</i> an ass!” he admitted, and in order to get the better
-of the situation he turned sharply and went back to the inn.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_II' id='CHAPTER_II'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Northrup decided to refrain from asking questions.
-Long ago he discovered that he could gain more
-from a receptive state of mind than an inquiring one.</p>
-<p>He began to understand his peculiar mental excitement.
-Manly was right. All that was needed to bring about complete
-recovery was detachment and opportunity for his
-machinery to get into action. He knew the signs. The
-wheels were beginning to turn!</p>
-<p>Now from Northrup’s point of view this was all right;
-but his sudden appearance in a place where bad roads and
-no reason for coming usually kept people out, caused a
-ripple to reach from the inn to the Point and even the
-Mines, twelve miles away.</p>
-<p>The people took time before accepting strangers; they had
-not yet digested Maclin, and in silent disapproval they regarded
-Northrup as in some way connected with Maclin.</p>
-<p>The mine owner had been more or less familiar to the
-Forest for several years: his coming and going were watched
-and speculated upon. Recently he had imported foreign
-labour, much to the sneering contempt of the natives whose
-philosophy did not include the necessity of perpetual work
-and certainly repudiated the idea of outsiders originating a
-new system. But Northrup was not a foreigner. He must
-be regarded from a different angle.</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly made it her business, after the first few days,
-to start propaganda of a safe and inspiring character about
-her guest. While not committing herself to any definite
-statement, she made it known that if Northrup had any connection
-with Maclin, he was against him, not for him.</p>
-<p>Maclin just then was the hub from which the spokes of
-curiosity led.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></div>
-<p>“He couldn’t be for Maclin,” Polly had said to Peter.
-“You know that as well as I do, Peter Heathcote. And
-getting facts signed and witnessed is an awful waste of time.
-The Lord gave women a sixth sense and it’s a powerful sight
-surer than affidavits.”</p>
-<p>Peter grunted. So long as Polly hinted and made no statements
-he was content. He believed she was partly right.
-He thought Northrup might be on Maclin’s trail, and from
-appearances Peter had confidence in his guest’s ability to
-run his quarry to earth where, heretofore, others of the Forest
-had failed.</p>
-<p>He liked Northrup, believed in him, and while he sat and
-nursed his leg, he let Polly do her hinting.</p>
-<p>It was the evening of Northrup’s third day at the inn
-when the three, with Ginger blinking contentedly, sat by the
-fire. Polly knitted and smiled happily. She had drifted
-that day into calling Northrup “Brace” and that betokened
-surrender. Peter puffed and regarded his bandaged leg––he
-had taken a few steps during the afternoon, leaning on
-Northrup’s arm, and his mood was one of supreme satisfaction.</p>
-<p>Breaking the silence, now and again, an irritating sound
-of a bell intruded. It was a disconcerting note for it had a
-wild quality as if it were being run away with and was
-sending forth an appeal. Loud; soft; near; distant.</p>
-<p>“Is there a church around here?” Northrup asked at
-last.</p>
-<p>“There is,” Heathcote replied, taking the pipe from his
-lips. “It’s the half-built church I mentioned to you. A
-bit down the line you come to a bridge across an arm of
-the lake. On a little island is the chapel. It ain’t ever used
-now. Remember, Polly,” Heathcote turned to his sister,
-“the last time the Bishop came here? Mary-Clare was
-about as high as nothing, and just getting over the mumps.
-She got panicky when she heard of the Bishop, asked ole
-Doc if she could catch it. I guess the Bishop wasn’t catching!
-Yes, sir, the church is there, but it’s deserted.”</p>
-<p>“What is the bell ringing for?” Northrup roused, more because
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span>
-the name of Mary-Clare had been introduced than because
-the bell interested him.</p>
-<p>He knew, now, that the girl in the yellow house was Mary-Clare.
-Her name slipped into sound frequently, but that
-was all.</p>
-<p>“Who is ringing the bell?”</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly rolled her knitting carefully and set her glasses
-aslant on the top of her head. Northrup soon learned that
-the angle and position of Aunt Polly’s spectacles were significant.</p>
-<p>“No human hands are ringing the bell,” she remarked
-quietly. “I hold one notion, Peter another. <i>I</i> say the <i>bell</i>
-is ha’nted; calling, calling folks, making them remember!”</p>
-<p>“Now, Polly!” Peter knocked the ashes from his pipe on to
-Ginger’s back. “Don’t get to criss-crossing and apple-sassing
-about that bell.” He turned to Northrup and winked.</p>
-<p>“Women is curious,” he admitted. “When things are
-flat and lacking flavour they put in a pinch of this or that to
-spice them up. Fact is––there’s a change of wind and it ain’t
-sot yet. While it’s shifting around it hits, once so often, a
-chink in the belfry that’s got to be mended some day. That’s
-the sum and tee-total of Polly’s ha’nted tower.”</p>
-<p>Then, as if the question escaped without his sanction and
-quite to his consternation, Northrup spoke again:</p>
-<p>“Who lives in the yellow house by the crossroads?”</p>
-<p>This was not honest. Northrup knew <i>who</i>. What he
-wanted to say, but had not dared, was: “Tell me about
-her.”</p>
-<p>“I reckon you mean Mary-Clare.” Aunt Polly shook a
-finger at Ginger. “That dog,” she added, “jest naturally
-hates the bell ringing. Animals sense more than men!”</p>
-<p>This slur escaped Peter, he was intent upon Northrup’s
-question.</p>
-<p>“Seen that girl in the yellow house?” he asked. “Great
-girl, Mary-Clare. Great girl.”</p>
-<p>“I stopped there on my way here to ask directions. Rather
-unusual looking girl.”</p>
-<p>“She is that!” Peter nodded. Mary-Clare was about
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span>
-the only bit of romance Peter permitted himself. “Remember
-the night Mary-Clare was born, Polly?”</p>
-<p>Of course Polly remembered. Northrup felt fully convinced
-that Polly knew everything in King’s Forest and
-never forgot it. She nodded, drew her spectacles over her
-eyes, and continued her knitting while Peter hit the high spots
-of Mary-Clare’s past. Somehow the shallows Northrup was
-filling while he listened.</p>
-<p>Peter was in his element and drawled on:</p>
-<p>“The wildest storm you ever saw round these parts––snow
-and gale; they don’t usually hang together long, but they
-did that night. It was a regular night if there ever was one.
-Nobody stirring abroad ’less he had to. Ole Doc was out––someone
-over the mine-way had got mussed up with the
-machinery. Ole Doc was a minister as well as a doctor.
-He’d tried both jobs and used to say it came in handy, but he
-leaned most to medicine as being, what you might say, more
-practical.”</p>
-<p>“You needn’t be sacrilegious, brother,” Polly interjected.
-“The story won’t lose anything by holding to
-reverence.”</p>
-<p>“Oh, well,” Heathcote chuckled, “have it any way you
-want to. Ole Doc had us coming and going, that’s what I’m
-getting over. If he found he couldn’t help folks to live, he
-plumped about and helped ’em to die. Great man, ole Doc!
-Came as you did, son, and settled. We never knew anything
-about his life before he took root here. Well, that
-night I’m telling you about, he was on his way back from the
-mines when he spied a fire on the up-side of the lake. He said
-it looked mighty curious shining and flaming in the blinding
-whiteness. It was Dan Hamlin’s shack. Later we heard
-what had happened. Dan had come home drunk––when he
-wasn’t drunk you couldn’t find a decenter man than Hamlin,
-but liquor made him quarrelsome. His wife was going to
-have a baby––Mary-Clare, to be exact––and when he came
-in with Jack Seaver, the mail-carrier, there was a row on concerning
-something Seaver hadn’t brought that Hamlin had
-ordered for his wife. There never was any reasoning with
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span>
-Hamlin when he was drunk, so Seaver tried to settle the question
-by a fight. Seaver was like that––never had any patience.
-Lamp turned over, set the shack on fire!” Peter
-breathed hard.</p>
-<p>“Mrs. Hamlin ran for her life and the two men ran from
-justice. Seaver came back later and told the story. Hamlin
-shot himself the following day when he heard what had
-happened. Blamed fool! Mary-Clare was left, but she
-didn’t seem to amount to much in the beginning. It was
-this way: Mrs. Hamlin ran till she fell in a snowdrift. Ole
-Doc found her there.” Heathcote paused. The logs fell
-apart and the room grew hot. Northrup started as if
-roused from a dream.</p>
-<p>“Yes, sir!” Heathcote went on. “Ole Doc found her there
-and, well, sir, he was doctor and minister for sure that night.
-There wasn’t no choice as you might say. Mary-Clare
-was born in that snowdrift, and the mother died there! Ole
-Doc took ’em both home later.”</p>
-<p>“Good God!” ejaculated Northrup. “That’s the grimmest
-tale I ever listened to. What came next?”</p>
-<p>“The funeral––a double one, for they brought Hamlin’s
-body back. Then the saving of Mary-Clare. Polly and I
-wanted her––but ole Doc said he’d have to keep an eye on her
-for a while––she seemed sorter petering out for some time,
-and then when she took a turn and caught on, you couldn’t
-pry her away from ole Doc. He gave her his name and
-everything else. His wife was dead; his boy away to school,
-his housekeeper was a master hand with babies, and somehow
-ole Doc got to figuring out that Mary-Clare was a recompense
-for what he’d lost in women folks, and so he raised
-her and taught her. Good Lord, the education he pumped
-into that girl! He wouldn’t let her go to school, but whenever
-he happened to think of anything he taught it to her,
-and he was powerful educated. Said he wanted to see what
-he could do by answering her questions and letting her think
-things out for herself. Remember, Polly, how Mary-Clare
-used to ride behind ole Doc with a book braced up against
-his back?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></div>
-<p>Aunt Polly lifted the sock she was knitting and wiped her
-eyes.</p>
-<p>“Mary-Clare just naturally makes you laugh and cry
-at once,” the old voice replied, “remembering her is real
-diverting. She came from plain, decent stock, but something
-was grafted onto her while she was young and it made
-a new kind of girl of Mary-Clare. So loving and loyal.”
-Again Aunt Polly wiped her eyes.</p>
-<p>“And brave and grateful,” Heathcote took up his story,
-“and terrible far-seeing. I don’t hold with Polly that Mary-Clare
-became something new by grafting. Seems more like
-she was two girls, both keeping pace and watching out and
-one standing guard if the other took a time off. I never did
-feel sure ole Doc was quite fair with Mary-Clare. Without
-meaning to, he got a stranglehold on that girl. She’d have
-trotted off to hell for him, or with him. She’d have held her
-head high and laughed it off, too. I don’t suppose any one
-on God’s earth actually knows what the real Mary-Clare
-thinks about things on her own hook, but you bet she has
-ideas!”</p>
-<p>Northrup was more interested than he had been in many a
-day. The story thrilled him. The girl of the yellow house
-loomed large upon his vision and he began to understand.
-He was not one to scoff at things beyond the pale of exact
-science; his craft was one that took much for granted that
-could not be reduced to fact. Standing at the door of the
-little yellow house he had become a victim of suggestion.
-That accounted for it. The mists were passing. He had
-not been such an ass, after all.</p>
-<p>“So! that is your old doctor’s place down by the crossroads?”
-he said with a genuine sense of relief.</p>
-<p>“It was. Ole Doc died seven years back.”</p>
-<p>“What became of his son––you said he had a boy?”
-Northrup was gathering the threads in his hands. Nothing
-must escape him; it was all grist.</p>
-<p>“Oh! Larry came off and on the scene. There are them
-as think ole Doc didn’t treat Larry fair and square. I don’t
-know, but anyway, just before ole Doc was struck with that
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span>
-stroke that finished him, Larry came home and seemed to be
-forgiving enough, if there had been any wrong done. He
-had considerable education; ole Doc had given him that
-chance, but Larry drifted––allas was, and still is, a drifter.
-We all stand pat for the feller on account of his father and
-Mary-Clare. It was a blamed risky thing, though, Larry’s
-marrying Mary-Clare! I allas will hold to that!”</p>
-<p>Once, when Northrup was a young boy, he had been
-shocked by electricity. The memory of his experience often
-recurred to him in moments of stress. He had been standing
-within a few yards of the tree that had been shattered, and
-he had fallen unconscious. When he came to, he was vividly
-aware of the slightest details of sight and sound surrounding
-him. His senses seemed to have been quickened during
-the lapse of time. He winced at the light; the flickering of
-leaves above him hurt; the song of birds beat against his
-brain with sweet clamour, and he vaguely wondered what
-had happened to him; where he had been?</p>
-<p>In like manner Northrup, now, was aware of a painful
-keenness of his senses. Heathcote looked large and his voice
-vibrated in the quiet room; Aunt Polly seemed dwindling,
-physically, while something about her––the light playing
-on her knitting needles and spectacles, probably––radiated.
-The crackling logs were like claps of thunder. Northrup
-pulled himself to an upright position as one does who resists
-hypnotism.</p>
-<p>“I’m afraid you’re tiring Brace, brother.”</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly’s voice, low, even, and calm, got into the confusion
-as a soft breeze had, that day so long ago, and brought
-full consciousness in its wake.</p>
-<p>“On the other hand,” Northrup gave a relieved laugh,
-“I am intensely interested. You see, she looks so young,
-that Mrs.––Mrs.–––”</p>
-<p>“Rivers?” suggested Heathcote refilling his pipe. “Lord!
-I wonder if any one ever called Mary-Clare Mrs. Rivers before,
-Polly?” Heathcote paused, then went on:</p>
-<p>“Yes; Mary-Clare holds her own and her boy-togs help
-the idea. Mary-Clare ain’t properly grown up, anyway.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span>
-Some parts of her are terrible strong and thrifty; parts as has
-caught the sunlight, so to speak, and been sheltered from
-blasts. The other parts of her ain’t what you might say
-shrivelled, but they’ve kept hid and they ain’t ever on exhibition.”</p>
-<p>“How ridiculous you <i>are</i>, brother.” Aunt Polly was enjoying
-her brother’s flights, but felt called upon to keep him
-in order.</p>
-<p>“Oh! it’s just a blamed amusing fancy of mine,” Heathcote
-chuckled, “to calculate ’bout Mary-Clare. You see,
-being a magistrate, I married Mary-Clare to Larry, and
-I’ve never been at ease about the thing, though I had to put
-it through. There lay ole Doc looking volumes and not
-being able to speak a word––nothing to do for him but keep
-him company and try to find out what he wanted. He kept
-on wanting something like all possessed. Larry and Mary-Clare
-hung over him asking, was it this or that? and his big,
-burning eyes sorter flickering, never steady. I recall old
-Peneluna Todd was there and she said the young uns were
-pestering the ole Doc. Then, it was ’long about midnight,
-Larry rose up from asking some question, and there was a
-new look on his face, a white, frozen kind of look. Mary-Clare
-kinder sprang at him. ‘What is it?’ she whispered,
-and I ain’t never forgot her face. At first Larry didn’t answer
-and he began shaking, like he had the chills.</p>
-<p>“‘You must tell me, Larry!’ Mary-Clare went up close
-and took Larry by the shoulders as if she was going to tear
-his secret from him. Then she went on to say how he had
-no right to keep anything from her––her, as would give her
-soul for the ole Doc. She meant it, too. Well, Larry sort
-of dragged it out of himself. Ole Doc wanted him and
-Mary-Clare to marry! That was what was wanted! There
-wasn’t much time to consider things, but Mary-Clare went
-close to the bed and knelt down and said slowly and real
-tender:</p>
-<p>“‘You can hear me, can’t you, Daddy?’ The flicker in
-ole Doc’s eyes steadied. I reckon any call of Mary-Clare’s
-could halt him, short of the other side of Jordan. ‘Then,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span>
-dearie Dad, listen.’ Just like that she said it. I remember
-every word. ‘You want me to marry Larry––now? It
-would make you––happy?’ The steady look seemed to
-kinder freeze. I called it a listening look more than an
-understanding one. I’ll allas hold to that, but God knows
-there warn’t much time to calculate. Peneluna began
-acting up but Mary-Clare set her aside.</p>
-<p>“‘All right, Daddy darling!’ she whispered, and with that
-she stood up and said to me, ‘You marry us at once! Come
-close so that he can see and know!’</p>
-<p>“Things go here in the Forest that don’t go elsewhere; I
-married them two because I couldn’t help it––something
-drew me on. And then just when I got to the end, ole
-Doc rose up like he was lifted––he stared at what was passing;
-tried to say something, and sank back smiling––dead!”</p>
-<p>Northrup wiped his forehead. There were drops of perspiration
-on it, and his breath came roughly through his
-throat; he seemed part of the dramatic scene.</p>
-<p>“Satisfied, <i>I</i> say!” broke in Aunt Polly. “It <i>was</i> a big
-risk, but the dying see far, and the doctor had left all he had
-to Mary-Clare, which didn’t seem just right to his flesh-and-blood
-boy, and I guess he wanted to mend a bad matter
-the only way he could.”</p>
-<p>“Maybe!” sighed Peter. “Maybe. But he took big
-chances even for a dying man. I couldn’t get rid of the
-notion that when he cottoned to what had been done, he
-sorter threw up his hands! But what happened to Mary-Clare
-just took my breath. ’Pon my soul, as I looked at her
-it was like I saw her going away after ole Doc and leaving,
-in her place, a new, different woman that really didn’t count
-so long as she looked after things while the real Mary-Clare
-went about her business. It was disturbing and I felt
-downright giddy.”</p>
-<p>“You’re downright silly, Peter Heathcote”––Polly tossed
-her knitting aside and shifted the pillows of the couch––“making
-Mary-Clare out the way you do when she’s ordinary
-enough and doing her life tasks same as other
-folks.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></div>
-<p>“How has it worked out?” Northrup heard the words as
-if another spoke them.</p>
-<p>“I guess, friend, that’s what no one actually knows.”
-Peter pulled on his pipe. “Larry is on and off. Maclin, over
-to the mines, seems to do the ordering of Larry’s coming and
-going. Darned funny business, I say. However, there
-you are. When Larry is home I guess the way Mary-Clare
-holds her head and laughs gets on his nerves. No man
-likes to feel that he can’t clutch hold of his wife, but it
-comes to that, say what you will, Mary-Clare keeps free
-of things in a mighty odd fashion; I mean the real part of
-her; the other part goes regular enough.</p>
-<p>“She don’t slacken up on her plain duty. What the ole
-Doc left she shares right enough with Larry; she keeps the
-house like it should be kept, and she’s a good second to Polly
-here, where fodder is concerned. But something happened
-when Larry was last home that leaked out somehow. A
-girl called Jan-an let it slip. Not a quarrel exactly, but a
-thing that wasn’t rightfully settled. Larry was ordered off,
-sudden, by Maclin, but take it from me, when Larry comes
-back he’ll get his innings. Larry isn’t what you could call
-a sticker, but he gets there all the same. He ain’t going to
-let any woman go too far with him. That’s where Larry
-comes out strong––with women.”</p>
-<p>“I don’t know as you ought to talk so free, brother.”
-Polly looked dubious.</p>
-<p>“In the meantime,” Northrup said quietly, “the little
-wife lives alone in the yellow house, waiting?” He hadn’t
-heard Polly’s caution.</p>
-<p>He was thinking of Mary-Clare’s look when she confronted
-him the day of his coming. Was she expecting her husband?
-Had she learned to love him? Was she that kind
-of woman? The kind that thrives on neglect and indifference?</p>
-<p>“Not alone, as you might say,” Heathcote’s voice drawled.
-“There’s Noreen, her little girl, you know. Noreen seems
-at times to be about a thousand years older than her mother,
-but by actual count she’s going on six, ain’t that it, Polly?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></div>
-<p>Again Northrup felt as he had that day by the lightning-shattered
-tree.</p>
-<p>“Her little girl?” he asked slowly, and Aunt Polly raised
-her eyes to his face. She looked troubled, vaguely uneasy.</p>
-<p>“Yep!” Peter rose stiffly. He wanted to go to bed.
-“Noreen’s the saving from the litter. How many was
-there, Polly?”</p>
-<p>Polly got upon her feet, the trouble-look growing in her
-eyes.</p>
-<p>“Noreen had a twin as was dead,” she said tenderly.
-“Then the last one lived two hours––that’s all, brother.”
-She walked to the window. “The storm is setting this
-way,” she went on. “Just listen to that lake acting up as if
-it was the ocean.”</p>
-<p>The riotous swish of the water sounded distant but insistent
-in the warm, quiet room, and faintly, at rare intervals,
-the bell, rung by unseen forces, struck dully. It had given
-up the struggle.</p>
-<p>Northrup, presently, had a strong inclination to say to his
-host that he had changed his mind and must leave on the
-morrow. That course seemed the only safe and wise one.</p>
-<p>“But why?” Something new and uncontrolled demanded
-an answer. Why, indeed? Why should anything
-he had heard cause him to change his plans? This hectic
-story of a young woman had set his imagination afire, but
-it must not make a fool of him. What really was taking
-place became presently overpoweringly convincing.</p>
-<p>“I am going to write!”</p>
-<p>That was it! The story had struck his dull brain into
-action and he had been caught in time, before running away.
-He had gained the thing he had been pursuing, and he might
-have let it escape! The woman of the yellow house became a
-mere bearer of a rare gift––his restored power! He was
-safe; everything was safe. The world had righted itself
-at last. It wasn’t the woman with the dun-coloured ending
-to her story that mattered; it was the story.</p>
-<p>“I think I’ll turn in,” he said, stifling a yawn, “Good-night.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></div>
-<p>“Don’t hurry about breakfast,” Aunt Polly said gently.
-“Breakfast is only a starter, I always hold. It’s like kindlings
-to start the big logs. Sleep well, and God bless you!”</p>
-<p>She smiled up at her guest as if he were an old friend––come
-back!</p>
-<p>Up in his room Northrup had difficulty in keeping himself
-from work. He dared not begin; if he did he would write all
-night. He must be sure. In the meantime, he wrote to his
-mother:</p>
-<blockquote>
-<p>By the above heading you’ll see how far I’ve got on my way,
-searching for my lost health. I’m really in great shape. Manly
-was right: I had to let go! I’m struggling now between two
-courses. Apparently I was in a blue funk; all I needed was to find
-it out. Well, I’ve found it out. Shall I come home and prove it
-by doing the sensible thing, or shall I go on and make it doubly
-sure? If anything important turns up I would telegraph, but in case
-I <i>do</i> go on I want to do the job thoroughly and for a time lose myself.
-I will wait your word, Mother.</p>
-</blockquote>
-<p>Northrup was not seeking to deceive any one. He might
-strike out for new places in a week, or he might, if the mood
-held, write in King’s Forest. It all depended upon the mood.
-What really mattered was an unfettered state.</p>
-<p>The vagrant in him, that had been starved and denied,
-rose supreme. Now that he was sure that he was going to
-write, had a big theme, there was excuse for his desire to be
-free. He would return to his chink in the wall, as Manly
-explained, better fitted for it and with a wider vision. He
-had a theory that a writer was, more or less, like a person
-with a contagious disease: he should be exiled until all danger
-to the peace and happiness of others was past. If only the
-evenly balanced folks would see that and not act as if they
-were being insulted!</p>
-<p>While he undressed, Northrup was sketching his plot mentally.
-In the morning it would be <i>fixed</i>; it would be more
-like copying than creating when a pen was resorted to.</p>
-<p>“I’ll take that girl in the yellow house and do no end of
-things with her. Dual personality! Lord, and in this stagnant
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span>
-pool! All right. Dual personality. Now she must
-get a jog about her husband and wake up! Two men and
-one woman. Triangle, of course. Nothing new under God’s
-heaven. It’s the handling of the ragged old things. I can
-make rather a big story out of the ingredients at hand.”</p>
-<p>Northrup felt that he was going to sleep; going to rise to
-the restored desire for work. No wonder he laughed and
-whistled––softly; he had overtaken himself!</p>
-<p>Three days later a telegram came from Mrs. Northrup.</p>
-<p>“Go on,” it said simply. Mrs. Northrup knew when it
-was wisest to let go. But this was not true of Kathryn
-Morris, the other woman most closely attached to Northrup’s
-life. Kathryn never let go. When she lost interest in any
-one, or anything, she flung it, or him, from her with no doubtful
-attitude of mind. Kathryn meant to marry Northrup
-some day and he fully expected to marry her, though neither
-of them could ever recall just when, or how, this understanding
-had been arrived at.</p>
-<p>It was, to all appearances, a most fitting outcome to close
-family interests and friendships. It had just naturally happened
-up to the point when both would desire to bring it to
-a culmination. The next step, naturally, must be taken by
-Kathryn for, when Northrup had ventured to suggest, during
-his convalescence, a definite date for their wedding,
-Kathryn had, with great show of tenderness, pushed the
-matter aside.</p>
-<p>The fact was, marriage to Kathryn was not a terminal, but
-a way station where one was obliged to change for another
-stretch on a pleasant and unhampered journey, and she
-had no intention of marrying a possible invalid or, perhaps,
-a dying man.</p>
-<p>So while Northrup struggled out of his long and serious
-illness, Kathryn played her little game under cover. Some
-women, rather dull and stupid ones, can do this admirably
-if they are young enough and lovely enough to carry it
-through, and Kathryn was both. She had also that peculiar
-asset of looking divinely intuitive and sweet during her
-silences, and it would have taken a keen reader of human
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span>
-nature to decide whether Kathryn Morris’s silences brooded
-over a rare storeroom of treasure or over a haunted and
-empty chamber.</p>
-<p>Without any one being aware of the reasons for his reappearance,
-a certain Alexander Arnold materialized while
-Northrup had been at his worst. Sandy Arnold had figured
-rather vehemently in the year following Kathryn’s “coming
-out,” but had faded away when Northrup began to show
-signs of becoming famous.</p>
-<p>Arnold was a man who made money and lost it in a breath-taking
-fashion, but gradually he was steadying himself
-and was more often up than down––he was decidedly up at
-the time of Northrup’s darkest hour; he was still refusing
-to disappear when Northrup emerged from the shadows
-and showed signs of persisting. This was disconcerting.
-Kathryn faced a situation, and situations were never thrilling
-to her: she lacked the sporting spirit; she always played safe
-or endeavoured to. Sandy was still in evidence when Northrup
-disappeared from the scene.</p>
-<p>Mrs. Northrup read Brace’s letter to Kathryn, and something
-in the girl rose in alarm. This ignoring of her, for
-whatever reason, was most disturbing. Brace should have
-taken her, if not his mother, into his confidence. Instead he
-had “cut and run”––that was the way Kathryn <i>thought</i> of it.
-Aloud she said, with that ravishing look of hers:</p>
-<p>“How very Brace-like! Getting material and colour I
-suppose he calls it. I wish”––this with a tender, yearning
-smile––“I wish, for your sake and mine, dear, that his genius
-ran in another direction, stocks or banking––anything with
-an office. It is so worrying, this trick of his of hunting plots.”</p>
-<p>“I only hope that he can write again,” Mrs. Northrup returned,
-patting the letter on her knee. Once she had
-wanted to write, but she had had her son instead. In her
-day women did not have professions <i>and</i> sons. They chose.
-Well, she had chosen, and paid the price. Her husband had
-cost her much; her son was her recompense. He was her
-interpreter, also.</p>
-<p>“Where do you think he’ll go?” Kathryn asked.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></div>
-<p>“He’ll tell us when he comes home.” There was something
-cryptic about Helen Northrup when she was seeking to
-help her son. Kathryn once more bridled. She was direct
-herself, very direct, but her advances were made under a
-barrage fire.</p>
-<p>Her next step was to go to Doctor Manly. She chose his
-office hour, waited her turn, and then pleaded wakefulness
-and headache as her excuse for the call.</p>
-<p>Manly hated wakefulness and headaches. You couldn’t
-put them under the X-ray; you couldn’t operate on them;
-you had to deal with them by faith. Kathryn was not
-lacking in imagination and she gave a fairly accurate description
-of long, black hours and consequent pain––“here.”
-She touched the base of her brain. She vaguely recalled
-that the nerve centres were in that locality.</p>
-<p>Manly was impressed and while he was off on that scent,
-somehow Northrup got into the conversation.</p>
-<p>“I cannot help worrying about Brace, more for his mother’s
-sake than his.” Kathryn looked very sweet and womanly,
-“He has been so ill and the letter his mother has just received
-<i>is</i> disturbing.”</p>
-<p>Here Kathryn quoted it and Manly grinned.</p>
-<p>“That’s all right,” he said, shaking a bottle of pills. “It
-does a human creature no end of good to run away at times.
-I often wonder why more of us don’t do it and come back
-keener and better.”</p>
-<p>“Some of us have duties.” Kathryn looked noble and
-self-sacrificing.</p>
-<p>“Some of us would perform them a darned sight better if
-we took the half holiday now and then that the soul, or whatever
-you call it, craves. Now Northrup ought to look to
-his job––it <i>is</i> a job in his case. You wouldn’t expect a travelling
-salesman to hang around his shop all the time, would
-you?”</p>
-<p>Kathryn had never had any experience with travelling
-salesmen––she wasn’t clear as to their mission in life. So she
-said doubtfully:</p>
-<p>“I suppose not.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></div>
-<p>“Certainly not! An office man is one thing; a professional
-man, another; and these wandering Johnnies, like Northrup,
-still another breed. He’s been starving his scent––that’s
-what I told him. Too much <i>woman</i> in his––and I don’t
-mean to hurt you, Kathryn, but you ought to get it into your
-system that marrying a man like Northrup is like marrying
-a doctor or minister; you’ve got to have a lot of faith
-or you’re going to break your man.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn’s eyes contracted, then she laughed.</p>
-<p>“How charming you are, Doctor Manly, when you’re
-making talk. Are those pills bitter?” Kathryn reached out
-for them. “Not that I mind, but I hate to be taken by surprise.”</p>
-<p>“They’re as bitter as––well, they’re quinine. You need
-toning up.”</p>
-<p>“You think I need a change?” The tone was pensive.</p>
-<p>“Change?” Manly had a sense of humour. “Well, yes, I
-do. Go to bed early. Cut out rich food; you’ll be fat at
-forty if you don’t, Miss Kathryn. Take up some good
-physical work, not exercises. Really, it would be a great
-thing for you if you discharged one of your maids.”</p>
-<p>“Which one, Doctor Manly?”</p>
-<p>“The one who is on her feet most.”</p>
-<p>And so, while Northrup settled down in King’s Forest, and
-his mother fancied him travelling far, Kathryn set her pretty
-lips close and jotted down the address of Helen Northrup’s
-letter in a small red book.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_III' id='CHAPTER_III'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Mary-Clare stood in the doorway of the little
-yellow house. Her mud-stained clothes gave evidence
-that the recent storm had not kept her indoors––she
-was really in a very messy, caked state––but it was
-always good to breathe the air after a big storm; it was so
-alive and thrilling, and she had put off a change of dress
-while she debated a second trip. There was a stretching-out
-look on Mary-Clare’s face and her eyes were turned
-to a little trail leading into the hilly woods across the highway.</p>
-<p>Noreen came to the door and stood close to her mother.
-Noreen was only six, but at times she looked ageless. When
-the child abandoned herself to pure enjoyment, she talked
-baby talk and––played. But usually she was on guard, in
-a fierce kind of blind adoration for her mother. Just what
-the child feared no one could tell, but there was a constant
-appearance of alertness in her attitude even in her happiest
-moments.</p>
-<p>“I guess you want the woods, Motherly?” The small up-turned
-face made the young mother’s heart beat quicker;
-the tie was strong between them.</p>
-<p>“I do, Noreen. It has been ten whole days since I had
-them.”</p>
-<p>“Well, Motherly, why don’t you go?”</p>
-<p>“And leave my baby alone?”</p>
-<p>“I’ll get Jan-an to come!”</p>
-<p>“Oh! you blessed!” Mary-Clare bent and kissed the worshipping
-face. “I tell you, Sweetheart. Mother will take a
-bite of lunch and go up the trail, if you will go to Jan-an.
-If you cannot find her, then come up the trail to Motherly––how
-will that do?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></div>
-<p>“Yes,” Noreen sweetly acquiesced. “I’ll come to the––the–––”
-she waited for the word.</p>
-<p>“Yawning Gap,” suggested the mother, reverting to a
-dearly loved romance.</p>
-<p>“Yes. I’ll come to the Yawning Gap and I’ll give the
-call.”</p>
-<p>“And I’ll call back: <i>Oh! wow!––Oh! wo!</i>” The musical
-voice rose like a flute and Noreen danced about.</p>
-<p>“And I’ll answer: <i>wo wow!––oh!</i>” The piping tones were
-also flute-like, an echo of the mother’s.</p>
-<p>“And then, down will fall the drawbridge with a mighty
-clatter.” Mary-Clare looked majestic even in her muddy
-trousers as she portrayed the action. “And over the Gap
-will come the Princess Light-of-my-Heart with her message.”</p>
-<p>“Ah! yes, Motherly. It will be such fun. But if Jan-an
-can come here to stay, then what?” the voice faltered.</p>
-<p>“Why, Light-of-my-Heart, I will return strong and
-hungry, and Jan-an and my Princess and I will sit by the
-fire to-night and roast chestnuts and apples and there will
-be such a story as never was before.”</p>
-<p>“Both ways are beautiful ways, Motherly. I don’t know
-which is bestest.”</p>
-<p>It was always so with Mary-Clare and Noreen, all ways
-were alluring; but the child had deep intuitions, and so she
-set her face at once away from the little yellow house and the
-mother in the doorway, and started on her quest of Jan-an.</p>
-<p>When the child had passed from sight Mary-Clare packed a
-bit of luncheon in a basket and ran lightly across the road.
-She looked back, making sure that no one was watching her
-movements, then she plunged into the woods, her head lowered,
-and her heart throbbing high.</p>
-<p>The trail was not an easy one––Mary-Clare had seen to
-that!––and as no one but Noreen and herself ever trod it,
-it was hardly discernible to the uninitiated. Up and up
-the path led until it ended at a rough, crude cabin almost
-hidden by a tangle of vines.</p>
-<p>Looking back over the years of her married life, Mary-Clare
-often wondered how she could have endured them but
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
-for the vision and strength she received in her “Place,” as she
-whimsically called it––getting her idea from a Bible verse.</p>
-<p>Among the many things that old Doctor Rivers had given
-Mary-Clare was a knowledge and love of the Bible. He had
-offered the book to her as literature and early in life she had
-responded to the appeal. The verse that had inspired her to
-restore a deserted cabin to a thing of beauty and eventually
-a kind of sanctuary, was this:</p>
-<blockquote>
-<p>And the woman fled into the wilderness where she hath a place
-prepared of God that they should feed her there.</p>
-</blockquote>
-<p>The words, roughly carved, were traced on the east wall of
-the cabin and under a picture of Father Damien.</p>
-<p>The furniture of the shack was made by Mary-Clare’s own
-hands. A long table, some uneven shelves for books she
-most loved, a chair or two and a low couch over which was
-thrown a gay-patched quilt. Once the work of love was
-completed, Nature reached forth with offerings of lovely
-vines and mountain laurel and screened the place from any
-chance passer-by.</p>
-<p>A hundred feet below the cabin was a little stream. That
-marked the limit of even Noreen’s territory unless, after due
-ceremony, she was permitted to advance as far as the cabin
-door. The pretty game was evolved to please the child
-and secure for the mother a privacy she might not have got
-in any other way.</p>
-<p>As Mary-Clare reached the “Place” this autumn day, she
-was a bit breathless and stepped lightly as one does who approaches
-a shrine; she went inside and, kneeling by the
-cracked but dustless hearth, lighted a fire; then she took a
-seat by the rough table, clasped her hands upon it and lifted
-her eyes to the words upon the opposite wall.</p>
-<p>Sitting so, a startling change came over the young face.
-It was like a letting down of strong defences. The smile fled,
-the head bowed, and a pitiful look of appeal settled from brow
-to trembling lips.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare had come to a sharp turn on her road and, as
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span>
-yet, she could not see her way! She had drifted––she could,
-with Larry away––but now he was coming home!</p>
-<p>She had tried, God knew, for three long months to be sure.
-She <i>must</i> be sure, she was like that; sure that she <i>felt</i> her
-way to be the <i>right</i> way; so sure that, should she find it later
-the wrong way, she could retrace her steps without remorse.
-It was the believing, at the start, that she was doing right,
-that mattered.</p>
-<p>Sitting in the quiet room with the autumn sunlight coming
-through the clustering vines at window and door and falling
-upon her in dancing patterns, the woman waited for guidance.
-The room became a place of memory and vision.</p>
-<p>Help would come, she still had the faith, but it must come
-at once for her husband might at any hour return from one
-of his mysterious business trips and there must be a decision
-reached before she met him. She could not hope to make
-him understand her nor sympathize with her; he and she,
-beyond the most ordinary themes, spoke different languages.
-She had learned that.</p>
-<p>She must take her stand alone; hold it alone; but the stand
-must seem to her right and then she could go on. Like the
-flickering sunbeams playing over her, the past came touching
-her memory with light and shade, unconsciously preparing
-her for her decision. She was not thinking, but thought was
-being formed.</p>
-<p>The waves of memory swept Mary-Clare from her moorings.
-She was no longer the harassed woman facing her
-problem in the clear light of conviction; but the child, whose
-mistaken ideals of love and loyalty had betrayed her so
-cruelly. Why had she who early had been taught by Doctor
-Rivers to “use her woman brain,” gone so utterly astray?</p>
-<p>Why had she married Larry when she never loved him;
-felt him to be a stranger, simply because he had interpreted
-the words of a dying man for her?</p>
-<p>In the light of realization the errors of life become our most
-deadly accusers. We dare not make others pay for the folly
-that we should never have perpetrated. Mary-Clare, the
-woman, had paid and paid, until now she faced bankruptcy;
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span>
-she was prepared still to do her part as far as in her lay––but
-she must retrace her steps, be sure and then go on as best
-she could.</p>
-<p>Always, in those old childish days, there had been the
-grim spectre of Larry’s mother. Her name was never mentioned
-but to the imaginative, sensitive Mary-Clare, she became,
-for that very reason, a clearly defined and potent influence.
-She was responsible for the doctor’s lonely life in
-King’s Forest; for Larry’s long absences from home; for the
-lines that grew between the old doctor’s eyes when he laid
-down the few simple laws of conduct that formed the iron
-code of life:</p>
-<p><i>Never lie. Never break a promise. Never take advantage
-for selfish gain. Think things out with your woman brain,
-and never count the cost if you know it is right.</i></p>
-<p>Larry’s mother, so the child believed, had not kept the
-code––therefore, Mary-Clare must the more strictly adhere to
-it and become what the other had not! And how desperately
-she had struggled to reach her ideal. In the conflict,
-only her sunny joyous nature had saved her from wreck.
-Naturally direct and loyal, much of what might have occurred
-was prevented. Passionate love and devout belief
-in the old doctor eliminated other dangers.</p>
-<p>It was well and right to use your “woman brain,” but when
-in the end you always came to the conclusion that the doctor’s
-way was your way, life was simplified. If one could not
-fully understand, then all the more reason for relying upon a
-good guide, a tested friend; but above all other considerations,
-once the foundation was secure was this: she must make
-up to her adored doctor and Larry for what that unmentioned,
-mysterious woman had denied them.</p>
-<p>It had all seemed so simple, when one did not know!</p>
-<p>That was it. Breathing hard, Mary-Clare came back to
-the present. She could not know until she had lived, and
-being married did not stop life. And now, Mary-Clare could
-consider, as if apart from herself, from the girl who had married
-Larry because he had caught the dying request of the old
-doctor. She had wanted to do right at that last tragic moment.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span>
-She had done it with the false understanding of reality
-and found out the truth––by living. It had seemed to her, in
-her ignorance, the only way to relieve the suffering of the
-dying: to help Larry who was deprived of everything.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare must not desert, as the unmentioned woman
-had.</p>
-<p>But life, living––how they had torn the blindness from her!
-How she had paid and paid until that awful awakening after
-the birth and death of her last child, three months before!
-She had tried then to make Larry understand before he went
-away, but she could not! Larry always ascribed her moods,
-as he called them, to her “just going to have a child,” or
-“getting over having one.”</p>
-<p>He had gone away tolerant, but with a warning: “A man
-isn’t going to stand too much!”</p>
-<p>These words had been a challenge. There could be no
-more compromising. Pay-day had come for her and Larry.</p>
-<p>But the letters!</p>
-<p>At this thought Mary-Clare sat up rigidly. A squirrel,
-that had paused at her quiet feet, darted affrightedly across
-the cabin floor.</p>
-<p>The letters! The letters in the box hid on the shelf of the
-closet in the upper chamber. Always those letters had
-driven her back from the light which experience shed upon
-her to the darkness of ignorance.</p>
-<p>Larry had given the letters to her at the time when she
-questioned, after the doctor’s death, Larry’s right to hold her
-to her marriage vows. How frightened and full of despair
-she had been. She had felt that perhaps Larry had not
-understood. Why had the doctor never told her of his
-desire for her and Larry to marry? Then it was that Larry
-had gone away to bring proof. He had never meant to show
-it to her, but he must clear himself at the critical moment.</p>
-<p>And so he brought the letters. Mary-Clare knew every
-word of them. They were burned into her soul: they had
-been the guides on the hard road she had travelled. The
-doctor had always wanted her and Larry to marry; believed
-that they would. But she must be left free; no word must
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span>
-be spoken until she was old enough to choose. To prove his
-faith and love in his adopted child, Rivers had, so the letters
-to Larry revealed, left his all to her. In case she could not
-marry Larry, he confided in her justice to share with him.</p>
-<p>The last dark hour had broken the old doctor’s self-control––he
-had voiced what heretofore he had kept secret. The
-letters stood as silent proof of this. And then the old, rigid
-code asserted its influence. A promise must be kept!</p>
-<p>And so the payment began, but it was not, had never
-been, the real Mary-Clare who had paid. Something had retreated
-during the bleak years, that which remained fulfilled the
-daily tasks; kept its own council, laughed at length, and knew
-a great joy in the baby Noreen, seemed a proof that God was
-still with her while she held to what appeared to be right.</p>
-<p>And then the last child came, looked at her with its deep
-accusing eyes and died!</p>
-<p>In that hour, or so it seemed, the real Mary-Clare returned
-and demanded recognition. There was to be no more compromise;
-no more calling things by false names and striving to
-believe them real. There was but one safe road: truth.</p>
-<p>And Larry was coming home. He had not understood
-when he went away: he would not understand now. Still,
-truth must be faced.</p>
-<p>The letters!</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare now leaned on the table, her eyes fixed upon the
-wall opposite. The roughly carved words caught and held
-her attention. Gradually it came to her, vaguely, flickeringly,
-like a will-o’-the-wisp darting through a murky night,
-that if life meant anything it meant a faith in what was true.
-She must not demand more than that; a sense of truth.</p>
-<p>As a little child may look across the familiar environment
-of its nursery and contemplate its first unaided step, so
-Mary-Clare considered her small world: her unthinking
-world of King’s Forest, and prepared to take her lonely
-course. The place in which she had been born and bred: the
-love and friends that had held her close suddenly became
-strange to her. What was to befall her, once she let go the
-conventions that upheld her?</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></div>
-<p>Well, that was not for her to ask. There was the letting
-go and then the first unaided step. Nothing must hold her
-back––not even those letters that had sustained her! In
-recognizing her big problem in her small and crude world,
-Mary-Clare had no thought of casting aside her obligation
-or duties––her distress was founded upon a fear that those
-blessed, sacred duties would have none of her because she
-had not that with which to buy favour.</p>
-<p>There was Noreen––she was Larry’s, too. Through the
-years Mary-Clare had remembered that almost fiercely as
-she combated the child’s aversion to her father. Suddenly,
-as small things do occur at strained moments, hurting like a
-cruel blow, a scene at the time when Noreen was but four
-years old, rose vividly before her. Larry, sensing the baby’s
-hatred, had tried to force an outward show of obedience and
-affection. He had commanded Noreen to come and kiss
-him.</p>
-<p>Like a bird under the spell of a serpent, Noreen had stood
-affrighted and silent. The command was repeated, laughingly,
-jeeringly, but under it Mary-Clare had recognized
-that ring of brutality that occasionally marked Larry’s easy-going
-tones. Then Noreen had advanced step by step, her
-eyes wide and alert.</p>
-<p>“Kiss me!”</p>
-<p>“No!”</p>
-<p>The words had been explosive. Then Larry had caught
-the child roughly, and Noreen had struck him!</p>
-<p>Maddened and keen to the fact that he had been brought
-to bay, Larry had struck back, and for days the mark of his
-hand had lain across the delicate cheek. After that, when
-their wills clashed, Noreen, her eyes full of fear and hate,
-would raise her hand to her cheek––weighing the cost of
-rebellion. That gesture had become a driving force in
-Mary-Clare’s life. She must overcome that which lay like a
-hideous menace between Larry and Noreen! She was accountable
-for it; out of her loveless existence Noreen had
-birth––she was a living evidence of the wrong done.</p>
-<p>Looking back now, Mary-Clare realized that on the day
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span>
-when Larry struck Noreen he had struck the scales from her
-eyes. From that hour she had bunglingly, gropingly, felt
-her way along. The only fact that upheld her now was that
-she knew she must take her first lonely step, even if all her
-little unknowing, unthinking world dropped from her.</p>
-<p>Again the squirrel darted across the floor and Mary-Clare
-looked after it lingeringly. Even the little wild thing was
-company for her in her hard hour. Then she looked up at the
-face of Father Damien. It was but a face––the meaning of
-what had gone into its making Mary-Clare could not understand––but
-it brought comfort and encouragement.</p>
-<p>The reaction had set in. Worn-out nerves became non-resistant;
-they ceased to ache. Then it was that Noreen’s
-shrill voice broke the calm:</p>
-<p>“Motherly, Motherly, he’s come: he’s come home!”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare rose stiffly; her hands were spread wide as
-if to balance her on that dangerous, adventurous trail that
-lay between her past and the hidden future. There lay
-the trail: within her soul was a sense of truth and she had
-strength and courage for the first step. That was all.</p>
-<p>“I’m coming, Noreen. I’m coming!” And Mary-Clare
-staggered on.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_IV' id='CHAPTER_IV'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Mary-Clare met Noreen at the brook, smiling and
-calm. The child was trembling and pale, but the
-touch of her mother’s hand reassured her. It was
-like waking from a painful dream and finding everything
-safe and the dream gone.</p>
-<p>“I was just coming down the path with Jan-an, Motherly,
-when I saw him going in the house.”</p>
-<p>“Daddy, dear?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Motherly, Daddy. He left a bag in the house;
-looked all around and then came out. I was ’fraid he was
-coming to you, so I ran and ran, but Jan-an said she’d stay
-and fix him if he did.”</p>
-<p>“Noreen!” The tone was stern and commanding.</p>
-<p>“Well, Motherly, Jan-an said that, but maybe she was
-just funny.”</p>
-<p>“Of course. Just funny. We must always remember,
-Noreen, that poor Jan-an is just funny.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Motherly.”</p>
-<p>Things were reduced to normal by the time the little yellow
-house was reached. Jan-an was there, crouched by the fireplace,
-upon which she had kindled a welcoming fire after
-making sure Larry had not gone up the secret trail.</p>
-<p>Rivers was not in evidence, though a weather-stained bag,
-flung hastily on the floor, was proof of his hurried call. He
-did not appear all day. As a matter of fact, he was at the
-mines. Failing to find his wife, he had availed himself of the
-opportunity of announcing his presence to his good friend
-Maclin, and getting from him much local gossip, and what
-approval Maclin vouchsafed.</p>
-<p>All day, with Jan-an’s assistance, Mary-Clare prepared
-for the creature comforts of her husband; while Noreen
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span>
-made nervous trips to door and window. At night Jan-an
-departed––she seemed glad to go away, but not sure that
-she ought to go; Mary-Clare laughed her into good humour.</p>
-<p>“I jes don’t like the feelings I have,” the girl reiterated;
-“I’m creepy.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare packed a bag of food for her and patted her
-shoulder.</p>
-<p>“Come to-morrow,” she said, and then, after a moment’s
-hesitation, she kissed the yearning, vacant face. “You’re
-going to the Point, Jan-an?” she asked, and the girl nodded.</p>
-<p>Noreen, too, had to be petted into a calmer state––her
-old aversion to her father sprang into renewed life with
-each return after an absence. In a few days the child
-would grow accustomed to his presence and accept him with
-indifference, at least, but there was always this struggle.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare herself wondered where Larry was; why he
-delayed, once having come back to the Forest; but she kept
-to her tasks of preparation and reassuring Noreen, and so
-the day passed.</p>
-<p>At eight o’clock, having eaten supper and undressed the
-child, she sat in the deep wooden rocker with Noreen in her
-arms. There was always one story that had power to claim
-attention when all others failed, and Mary-Clare resorted to
-it now. Swaying back and forth she told the story of the
-haunt-wind.</p>
-<p>“It was a wonderful wind, Noreen, quite magical. It
-came from between the south and the east––a wild little
-wind that ran away and did things on its own account; but
-it was a good little wind for all that foolish people said about
-it. It took hold of the bell rope in the belfry, and swung out
-and out; it swung far, and then it dropped and fluttered about
-quite dizzily.”</p>
-<p>“Touching Jan-an?” Noreen suggested sleepily.</p>
-<p>“Jan-an, of course. Making her beautiful and laughing.
-Waking her from her sad dream, poor Jan-an, and giving
-her strength to do really splendid things.”</p>
-<p>“I love the wild wind!” Noreen pressed closer. “I’m
-not afraid of it. And it found Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></div>
-<p>“To be sure. It made Aunt Polly seem as grand and big
-as she really is––only blind folks cannot see––and it made all
-the blind folks <i>see her</i> for a minute. And it made Uncle
-Peter––no; it left Uncle Peter as he is!”</p>
-<p>“I like that”––drowsily––“and it made us see the man that
-went to the inn?” Noreen lifted her head, suddenly alert.</p>
-<p>“What made you think of him, Noreen?” Mary-Clare
-stopped swaying to and fro.</p>
-<p>“I don’t know, Motherly. Only it was funny how he
-just came and then the haunt-wind came and Jan-an says
-she thinks he <i>isn’t</i>. Really we only think we see him.”</p>
-<p>“Well, perhaps that’s true, childie. He’s something good,
-I hope. Now shut your eyes like a dearie, and Mother will
-rock and sing.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare fixed her eyes on her child’s face, but she was
-seeing another. The face of a man whose glance had held
-hers for a strange moment. She had been conscious, since,
-of this man’s presence; his name was familiar––she could not
-forget him, though there was no reason for her to remember
-him except that he was new; a something different in her dull
-days.</p>
-<p>But Noreen, eyes obediently closed, was pleading in the
-strange, foolish jargon of her rare moments of relaxation:</p>
-<p>“You lit and lock, Motherly, and I’ll luck my lum, just
-for to-night, and lall aleep.”</p>
-<p>“All right, beloved; you may, just for to-night, suck the
-little thumb, and fall asleep while Mother rocks.”</p>
-<p>After a few moments more Noreen was asleep and Mary-Clare
-carried her to an inner room and put her on her bed.
-She paused to look at the small sleeping face; she noted the
-baby outlines that always were so strongly marked when
-Noreen was unconscious; it hurt the mother to think how
-they hardened when the child awakened. The realization
-of this struck Mary-Clare anew and reinforced her to her
-purpose, for she knew her hour was at hand.</p>
-<p>A week before she had dismantled the room in which she
-now stood. It had once been Doctor Rivers’s chamber;
-later it had been hers––and Larry’s. The old furniture was
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span>
-now in the large upper room, only bare necessities were left
-here.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare looked about and her face lost its smile; her
-head lowered––it was not easy, the task she had set for herself,
-and after Larry’s visit to the mines it would be harder.
-She had hoped to see Larry first, for Maclin had a subtle
-power over him. Without ever referring to her, and she
-was sure he did not in an intimate sense, he always put Larry
-in an antagonistic frame of mind toward her. Well, it was
-too late now to avert Maclin’s influence––she must do the
-best she could. She went back to the fire and sat down and
-waited.</p>
-<p>It was after ten o’clock when Larry came noisily in. Rivers
-took his colour from his associates and their attitude
-toward him. He was a bit hilarious now, for Maclin had been
-glad to see him; had approved of the results of his mission––though
-as for that Larry had had little to do, for he had only
-delivered, to certain men, some private papers and had received
-others in return; had been conscious that non-essentials
-had been talked over with him, but as that was part
-of the business of big inventions, he did not resent it. Maclin
-had paid him better than he had expected to be paid,
-shared a good dinner with him and a bottle of wine, and now
-Rivers felt important and aggressive. Wine’s first effect
-upon him was to make him genial.</p>
-<p>He had meant to resent Mary-Clare’s absence on his arrival,
-but he had forgotten all about that. He meant now to
-be very generous with her and let bygones be bygones––he
-had long since forgotten the words spoken just before he left
-for his trip. Words due, of course, to Mary-Clare just having
-had a baby. Almost Larry had forgotten that the baby
-had been born and had died.</p>
-<p>He strode across the room. He was tall, lithe, and good-looking,
-but his face betokened weakness. All the features
-that had promised strength and power seemed, somehow,
-to have missed fulfilment.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare tried to respond; tried to do her full part––it
-would all help so much, if she only could. But this mood
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span>
-of Larry’s was fraught with danger––did she not know? Success
-did not make him understanding and considerate; it
-made him boyishly dominant and demanding.</p>
-<p>“Well, old girl”––Rivers had slammed the door after him––“sitting
-up for me, eh? Sorry; but when I didn’t find you
-here, I had to get over and see Maclin. Devilish important,
-big pull I’ve made this time. We’ll have a spree––go to the
-city, if you like––have a real bat.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare did not have time to move or speak; Larry was
-crushing her against him and kissing her face––not as a man
-kisses a woman he loves, but as he might kiss any woman.
-The silence and rigidity of Mary-Clare presently made themselves
-felt. Larry pushed her away almost angrily.</p>
-<p>“Mad, eh?” he asked with a suggestion of triumph in his
-voice. “Acting up because I ran off to Maclin? Well, I had
-to see him. I tried to get home sooner, but you know how
-Maclin is when he gets talking.”</p>
-<p>How long Larry would have kept on it would have been
-hard to tell, but he suddenly looked full at Mary-Clare and––stopped!</p>
-<p>The expression on the face confronting his was puzzling:
-it looked amused, not angry. Now there is one thing a man
-of Larry’s type cannot bear with equanimity and that is to
-have his high moments dashed. He saw that he was not
-impressing Mary-Clare; he saw that he was mistaking her
-attitude of mind concerning his treatment of her––in short,
-she did not care!</p>
-<p>“What are you laughing at?” he asked.</p>
-<p>“I’m not laughing, Larry.”</p>
-<p>“What are you smiling at?”</p>
-<p>“My smile is my own, Larry; when I laugh it’s different.”</p>
-<p>“Trying to be smart, eh? I should think when your
-husband’s been away months and has just got back, you’d
-meet him with something besides a grin.”</p>
-<p>There was some justice in this and Mary-Clare said slowly:
-“I’m sorry, Larry. I really was only thinking.”</p>
-<p>Now that she was face to face with her big moment, Mary-Clare
-realized anew how difficult her task was. Often, in
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span>
-the past, thinking of Larry when he was not with her, it had
-seemed possible to reason with him; to bring truth to him and
-implore his help. Always she had striven to cling to her image
-of Larry, but never to the real man. The man she had constructed
-with Larry off the scene was quite another creature
-from Larry in the flesh. This knowledge was humiliating
-now in the blazing light of reality grimly faced and it taxed
-all of Mary-Clare’s courage. She was smiling sadly, smiling
-at her own inability in the past to deal with facts.</p>
-<p>Larry was brought to bay. He was disappointed, angry,
-and outraged. He was not a man to reflect upon causes;
-results, and very present ones, were all that concerned him.
-But he did, now, hark back to the scene soon after the birth
-and death of the last child. Such states of mind didn’t
-last for ever, and there was no baby coming at the moment.
-He could not make things out.</p>
-<p>“See here,” he said rather gropingly, “you are not holding
-a grouch, are you?”</p>
-<p>“No, Larry.”</p>
-<p>“What then?”</p>
-<p>For a moment Mary-Clare shrank. She weakly wanted to
-put off the big moment; dared not face it.</p>
-<p>“It’s late, Larry. You are tired.” She got that far when
-she affrightedly remembered the bedroom upstairs and paused.
-She had arranged it for Larry––there must be an explanation
-of that.</p>
-<p>“Late be hanged!” Larry stretched his legs out and
-plunged his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get at the
-bottom of this to-night. You understand?”</p>
-<p>“All right, Larry.” Mary-Clare sank back in her chair––she
-had fallen on her adventurous way; she had no words
-with which to convey her burning thoughts. Already she had
-got so far from the man who had filled such a false position in
-her life that he seemed a stranger. To tell him that she did
-not love him, had never loved him, was all but impossible.
-Of course he could not be expected to comprehend. The
-situation became terrifying.</p>
-<p>“You’ve never been the same since the last baby came.”
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span>
-Larry was speaking in an injured, harsh tone. “I’ve put up
-with a good deal, Mary-Clare; not many men would be so
-patient. The trouble with you, my girl, is this, you get
-your ideas from books. That mightn’t matter if you had
-horse sense and knew when to slam the covers on the rot.
-But you try to live ’em and then the devil is to pay. Dad
-spoiled you. He let you run away with yourself. But
-the time’s come–––”</p>
-<p>The long speech in the face of Mary-Clare’s wondering,
-amazed eyes, brought Larry to a panting pause.</p>
-<p>“What you got a husband for, anyway, that’s what I am
-asking you?”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare’s hard-won philosophy of life stood her in poor
-stead now. She felt an insane desire to give way and laugh.
-It was a maddening thing to contemplate, but she seemed
-to see things so cruelly real and Larry seemed shouting to her
-from a distance that she could never retrace. For a moment
-he seemed to be physically out of sight––she only heard his
-words.</p>
-<p>“By God! Mary-Clare, what’s up? Have you counted
-the cost of carrying on as you are doing? What am I up
-against?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Larry, I’ve counted the cost to me and Noreen and
-you. I’m afraid this is what we are all up against.”</p>
-<p>“Well, what’s the sum total?” Larry leaned back more
-comfortably; he felt that Mary-Clare, once she began to
-talk, would say a good deal. She would talk like one of her
-books. He need not pay much heed and when she got out of
-breath he’d round her up. His interview with Maclin had
-not been all business; the gossip, interjected, was taking ugly
-and definite form now. Maclin had mentioned the man at
-the inn. Quite incidentally, of course, but repeatedly.</p>
-<p>“You see, Larry, I’ve got to tell you how it is, in my own
-way,” Mary-Clare was speaking. “I know my way makes
-you angry, but please be patient, for if I tried any other way
-it would hurt more.”</p>
-<p>“Fire away!” Larry nobly suppressed a yawn. Had
-Mary-Clare said simply, “I don’t love you any more,” Larry
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span>
-would have got up from the blow and been able to handle the
-matter, but she proceeded after a fashion that utterly confused
-him and, instead of clearing the situation, managed to
-create a most unlooked-for result.</p>
-<p>“It’s like this, Larry: I suppose life is a muddle for everyone
-and we all do have to learn as we go on––nothing can
-keep us from that, not even marriage, can it?”</p>
-<p>No reply came to this.</p>
-<p>“It’s like light coming in spots, and then those spots can
-never be really dark again although all the rest may be. You
-think of those spots as bright and sure when all else is––is
-lost. That is the way it has been with me.”</p>
-<p>“Gee!” Larry shrugged his shoulders.</p>
-<p>“Larry, you <i>must</i> try to understand!” Mary-Clare was
-growing desperate.</p>
-<p>“Then, try to talk American.”</p>
-<p>“I am, Larry. <i>My</i> American. That’s the trouble––there
-is more than <i>one</i> kind, you know. Larry, it was all wrong,
-my marrying you even for dear Dad’s sake. If he had been
-well and we could have talked it over, he would have understood.
-I should have understood for him that last night.
-Even the letters should not have mattered, they must not
-matter now!”</p>
-<p>This, at least, was comprehensible.</p>
-<p>“Well, you <i>did</i> marry me, didn’t you?” Larry flung out.
-“You’re my wife, aren’t you?” Correcting mistakes was
-not in Larry’s plan of life.</p>
-<p>“I––why, yes, I am, Larry, but a wife means more than one
-thing, doesn’t it?” This came hopelessly.</p>
-<p>“Not to me. What’s your idea?” Larry was relieved at
-having the conversation run along lines that he could handle
-with some degree of common sense.</p>
-<p>“Well, Larry, marriage means a good many things to me.
-It means being kind and making a good home––a real home,
-not just a place to come to. It means standing by each other,
-even if you can’t have everything!”</p>
-<p>Just for one moment Larry was inclined to end this shilly-shallying
-by brute determination. He was that type of man.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span>
-What did not come within the zone of his own experience,
-did not exist for him except as obstacles to brush aside.</p>
-<p>It was a damned bad time, he thought, for Mary-Clare to
-act up her book stuff. A man, home after a three months’
-absence, tired and worn out, could not be expected, at close
-upon midnight, to enjoy this outrageous nonsense that had
-been sprung upon him.</p>
-<p>He must put an end to it at once. He discarded the cave
-method. Of course that impulse was purely primitive. It
-might simplify the whole situation but he discarded it.
-Mary-Clare’s outbursts were like Noreen’s “dressing up”––and
-bore about the same relation in Larry’s mind.</p>
-<p>“See here,” he said suddenly, fixing his eyes on Mary-Clare––when
-Larry asserted himself he always glared––“just
-what in thunder do you mean?”</p>
-<p>The simplicity of the question demanded a crude reply.</p>
-<p>“I’m not going to have any more children.” Out of the
-maze of complicated ideals and gropings this question and
-answer emerged, devastating everything in their path.
-They meant one, and only one, thing to Larry Rivers.</p>
-<p>There were some things that could illume his dark stretches
-and level Mary-Clare’s vague reachings to a common level.
-Both Larry and Mary-Clare were conscious now of being
-face to face with a grave human experience. They stood revealed,
-man and woman. The big significant things in life
-are startlingly simple.</p>
-<p>The man attacked the grim spectre with conventional and
-brutal weapons; the woman backed away with a dogged look
-growing in her eyes.</p>
-<p>“Oh! you aren’t, eh?” Larry spoke slowly. “You’ve
-decided, have you?”</p>
-<p>“I know what children mean to you, Larry; I know what
-you mean by––love––yes: I’ve decided!”</p>
-<p>“You wedged your way into my father’s good graces and
-crowded me out; you had enough decency, when you knew
-his wishes, to carry them out as long as you cared to, and
-now you’re going to end the job in your own way, eh?</p>
-<p>“Name the one particular way in which you’re not going
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span>
-to break your vows,” Larry asked, and sneered. “What’s
-your nice little plan?” He got up and walked about. “I
-suppose you have cut and dried some little compromise.”</p>
-<p>“Oh! Larry, I wish you could be a little kind; a little
-understanding.”</p>
-<p>“Wish I could think as you think; that’s what you mean.
-Well, by God, I’m a man and your husband and I’m going
-to stand on my rights. You can’t make a silly ass of me as
-you did of my father. Fathers and husbands are a shade
-different. Come, now, out with your plan.”</p>
-<p>“I will not have any more children! I’ll do everything
-I can, Larry; make the home a real home. Noreen and I will
-love you. We’ll try to find some things we all want to do
-together; you and I can sort of plan for Noreen and there
-are all kinds of things to do around the Forest, Larry. Really,
-you and I ought to––ought to carry out your father’s work.
-We could! There are other things in marriage, Larry, but
-just––the one.” Breathlessly Mary-Clare came to a pause,
-but Larry’s amused look drove her on. “I’m not the kind of
-a woman, Larry, that can live a lie!”</p>
-<p>A tone of horror shook Mary-Clare’s voice; she choked and
-Larry came closer, his lips were smiling.</p>
-<p>“What in thunder!” he muttered. Then: “You plan to
-have us live on here in this house; you and I, a man and
-woman––and–––!” Larry stopped short, then laughed.
-“A hell of a home that would be, all right!”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare gazed dully at him.</p>
-<p>“Well, then,” she whispered, and her lips grew deadly white,
-“I do not know what to do.”</p>
-<p>“Do? You’ll forget it!” thundered Larry. “And pretty
-damned quick, too!”</p>
-<p>But Mary-Clare did not answer. There was nothing more
-to say. She was thinking of the birth-night and death-night
-of her last child.</p>
-<p>On and on the burning thoughts rushed in Mary-Clare’s
-brain while she sat near Larry without seeing him. As surely
-as if death had taken him, he, the husband, the father of
-Noreen, had gone from her life. It did not seem now as if
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span>
-anything she had said, or done, had had anything to do with
-it. It was like an accident that had overtaken them, killing
-Larry and leaving her to readjust her life alone.</p>
-<p>“Why don’t you answer?” Larry laid a hand upon Mary-Clare’s
-shoulder. “Getting sleepy? Come on, then, we’ll
-have this out to-morrow.” He looked toward the door
-behind which stood Noreen’s cot and that other one beside it.</p>
-<p>“I’ve fixed the room upstairs for you, Larry.”</p>
-<p>The simple statement had power to accomplish all that
-was left to be done. There was a finality about it, and the
-look on Mary-Clare’s face, that convinced Larry he had
-come to the point of conquest or defeat.</p>
-<p>“The devil you have!” was what he said to gain time.</p>
-<p>For a moment he again contemplated force––the primitive
-male always hesitates to compromise where his codes are
-threatened. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes; a
-ferocious curl of his lips––it would be such a simple matter
-and it would end for ever the nonsense that he could not
-tolerate.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare leaned back in her chair. She was so absolutely
-unafraid that she quelled Larry’s brute instinct and
-aroused in him a dread of the unknown. What would Mary-Clare
-do in the last struggle? Larry was not prepared to
-take what he recognized as a desperate chance. The familiar
-and obvious were deep-rooted in his nature––if, in the end,
-he lost with this calm, cool woman whom he could not
-frighten, where could he turn for certain things to which his
-weakness––or was it his strength––clung?</p>
-<p>A place to come to; someone peculiarly his own; his without
-effort to be worthy of. Larry resorted to new tactics
-with Mary-Clare at this critical moment. The smile faded
-from his sneering lips; he leaned forward and the manner that
-made him valuable to Maclin fell upon him like a disguise.
-So startling was the change, that Mary-Clare looked at him
-in surprise.</p>
-<p>“Mary-Clare, you’ve got me guessing”––there was almost
-surrender in the tone––“a woman like you doesn’t take the
-stand you have without reason. I know that. Naturally,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span>
-I was upset, I spoke too quick. Tell me now in your own
-way. I’ll try to understand.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was taken off guard. Her desire and sore need
-rushed past caution and carried her to Larry.</p>
-<p>She, too, leaned forward, and her lovely eyes were shining.
-“Oh! I hoped you would try, Larry,” she said. “I know
-I’m trying and put things in a way that you resent, but I
-have a great, a true reason, if I could only make you see it.”</p>
-<p>“Now, you’re talking sense, Mary-Clare,” Larry spoke
-boyishly. “Just over-tired, I guess you were; seeing things
-in the dark. Men know the world better than women;
-that’s why some things are <i>as</i> they are. I’m not going to
-press you, Mary-Clare, I’m going to try and help you. You
-<i>are</i> my wife, aren’t you?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, oh! yes, Larry.”</p>
-<p>“Well, I’m a man and you’re a woman.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, that’s so, Larry.”</p>
-<p>Step by step, ridiculous as it might seem, Mary-Clare
-meant, even now, to keep as close to Larry as she could.
-He misunderstood; he thought he was winning against her
-folly.</p>
-<p>“Marriage was meant for one thing between man and
-woman!”</p>
-<p>This came out triumphantly. Then Mary-Clare threw
-back her head and spiritually retreated to her vantage of
-safety.</p>
-<p>“No, it wasn’t,” she said, taking to her own hard-won
-trail desperately. “No, it wasn’t! I cannot accept that
-Larry––why, I have seen where such reasoning would lead.
-I saw the night our last baby came––and went. I’d grow old
-and broken––you’d hate me; there would be children––many
-of them, poor, sad little things––looking at me with dreadful
-eyes, accusing me. If marriage means only one thing––it
-means that to me and you, and no woman has the right to––to
-become like that.”</p>
-<p>“Wanting to defy the laws of God, eh?” Larry grew virtuous.
-“We all grow old, don’t we? Men work for women;
-women do their share. Children are natural, ain’t they?
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
-What’s the institution of marriage for, anyway?” And now
-Larry’s mouth was again hardening.</p>
-<p>“Larry, oh! Larry, please don’t make me laugh! If I
-should laugh there would never be any hope of our getting
-together.”</p>
-<p>For some reason this almost hysterical appeal roused the
-worst in Larry. The things Maclin had told him that day
-again took fire and spread where Maclin could never have
-dreamed of their spreading. The liquor was losing its sustaining
-effect––it was leaving Larry to flounder in his weak
-will, and he abandoned his futile tactics.</p>
-<p>“Who’s that man at the inn?” he asked.</p>
-<p>The suddenness of the question, its irrelevancy, made
-Mary-Clare start. For a moment the words meant absolutely
-nothing to her and then because she was bared, nervously,
-to every attack, she flushed––recalling with absurd
-clearness Northrup’s look and tone.</p>
-<p>“I don’t know,” she said.</p>
-<p>“That’s a lie. How long has he been here, snooping
-around?”</p>
-<p>“I haven’t the slightest idea, Larry.” This was not true,
-and Larry caught the quiver in the tones.</p>
-<p>Again he got up and became the masterful male; the injured
-husband; the protector of his home. There were still
-tactics to be tested.</p>
-<p>“See here, Mary-Clare, I’ve caught on. You never cared
-for me. You married me from what you called duty; your
-sense of decency held until your own comfort and pleasure
-got in between––then you were ready to fling me off like an
-old mit and term it by high-sounding names. Now comes
-along this stranger, from God knows where, looking about
-for the devil knows what––and taking what lies about in
-order to pass the time. I haven’t lived in the world for nothing,
-Mary-Clare. Now lay this along with the other woman-thoughts
-you’re so fond of. I’m going upstairs, for I’m tired
-and all-fired disgusted, but remember, what I can’t hold,
-no other man is going to get, not even for a little time while
-he hangs about. Folks are going to see just what is going on,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span>
-believe me! I’m going to leave all the doors and windows
-open. I’m going to give you your head, but I’ll keep hold of
-the reins.”</p>
-<p>And then, because it was all so hideously wrong and twisted
-and comical, Mary-Clare laughed! She laughed noiselessly,
-until the tears dimmed her eyes. Larry watched her uneasily.</p>
-<p>“Oh, Larry,” she managed her voice at last, “I never knew
-that anything so dreadfully wrong could be made of nothing.
-You’ve created a terrible something, and I wonder if you
-know it?”</p>
-<p>“That’s enough!” Larry strode toward the stairway.
-“Your husband’s no fool, my girl, and the cheap, little, old
-tricks are plain enough to him.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare watched her husband pass from view; heard
-him tramp heavily in the room above. She sat by the dead
-fire and thought of him as she first knew him––knew him?
-Then her eyes widened. She had never known him; she had
-taken him as she had taken all that her doctor had left to her,
-and she had failed; failed because she had not thought her
-woman’s thought until it was too late.</p>
-<p>After all her high aims and earnest endeavour to meet this
-critical moment in her life Mary-Clare acknowledged, as
-she sat by the ash-strewn hearth, that it had degenerated
-into a cheap and almost comic farce. To her narrow vision
-her problem seemed never to have been confronted before;
-her world of the Forest would have no sympathy for it, or
-her; Larry had reduced it to the ugliest aspect, and by so
-doing had turned her thoughts where they might never have
-turned and upon the stranger who might always have remained
-a stranger.</p>
-<p>Alone in the deadly quiet room, the girl of Mary-Clare
-passed from sight and the woman was supreme; a little hard,
-in order to combat the future: quickened to a futile sense of
-injustice, but young enough, even at that moment, to demand
-of life something vital; something better than the cruel thing
-that might evolve unless she bore herself courageously.</p>
-<p>Unconsciously she was planning her course. She would
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span>
-go her way with her old smile, her old outward bearing. A
-promise was a promise––she would never forget that, and
-as far as she could pay with that which was hers to give, she
-would pay, but outside of that she would not let life cheat
-her.</p>
-<p>Bending toward the dead fire on the hearth, Mary-Clare
-made her silent covenant.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_V' id='CHAPTER_V'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
-</div>
-<p>The storm had kept Northrup indoors for many hours
-each day, but he had put those hours to good use.</p>
-<p>He outlined his plot; read and worked. He felt
-that he was becoming part of the quiet life of the inn and the
-Forest, but more and more he was becoming an object of intense
-but unspoken interest.</p>
-<p>“He’s writing a book!” Aunt Polly confided to Peter.
-“But he doesn’t want anything said about it.”</p>
-<p>“He needn’t get scared. I like him too well to let on and
-I reckon one thing’s as good as another to tell <i>us</i>. I lay my
-last dollar, Polly, on this: he’s after Maclin; not with him.
-I’m thinking the Forest will get a shake-up some day and
-I’m willing to bide my time. Writing a book! Him, a full-blooded
-young feller, writing a book. Gosh! Why don’t
-he take to knitting?”</p>
-<p>Northrup also sent a letter to Manly. He realized that
-he might set his conscience at rest by keeping his end of the
-line open, but he wanted to have one steady hand, at least,
-at the other end.</p>
-<p>“Until further notice,” he wrote to Manly, “I’m here, and
-let it go at that. Should there be any need, even the slightest,
-get in touch with me. As for the rest, I’ve found myself,
-Manly. I’m getting acquainted, and working like the devil.”</p>
-<p>Manly read the letter, grinned, and put it in a box marked
-“Confidential, but unimportant.”</p>
-<p>Then he leaned back in his chair, and before he relegated
-Northrup to “unimportant,” gave him two or three thoughts.</p>
-<p>“The writing bug has got him, root and branch. He’s
-burrowed in his hole and wants the earth to tumble in over
-him. Talk about letting sleeping dogs lie. Lord! they’re
-nothing to the animals of Northrup’s type. And some darn
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span>
-fools”––Manly was thinking of Kathryn––“go nosing around
-and yapping at the creatures’ heels and feel hurt when they
-turn and snap.”</p>
-<p>And Northrup, in his quiet room at the inn, slept at night
-like a tired boy and dreamed. Now when Northrup began
-to dream, he was always on the lookout. A few skirmishing,
-nonsensical dreams marked a state of mind peculiarly associated
-with his best working mood. They caught and held
-his attention; they were like signals of the real thing. The
-Real Thing was a certain dream that, in every detail, was
-familiar to Northrup and exact in its repetition.</p>
-<p>Northrup had not been long at the inn when the significant
-dream came.</p>
-<p>He was back in a big sunny room that he knew as well as
-his own in his mother’s house. There he stood, like a glad,
-returned traveller, counting the pieces of furniture; deeply
-grateful that they were in their places and carefully preserved.</p>
-<p>The minutest articles were noted. A vase of flowers; the
-curtains swaying in the breeze; an elusive odour that often
-haunted Northrup’s waking hours. The room was now as
-it always had been. That being assured, Northrup, still in
-deep sleep, turned to the corridor and expectantly viewed the
-closed doors. But right here a new note was interjected.
-Previously, the corridor and doors were things he had gazed
-upon, feeling as a stranger might; but now they were like the
-room; quite his own. He had trod the passage; had looked
-into the empty rooms––they were empty but had held a suggestion
-of things about to occur.</p>
-<p>And then waking suddenly, Northrup understood––he had
-come to the place of his dream. The Inn was the old setting.
-In a clairvoyant state, he had been in this place before!</p>
-<p>He went to the door of his room and glanced down the
-passage. All was quiet. The dream made an immediate
-impression on Northrup. Not only did it arouse his power
-of creation, strengthen and illumine it; but it evolved a sense
-of hurry that inspired him without worrying him. It was
-like the frenzy that seizes an artist when he wants to get a bit
-of beauty on canvas in a certain light that may change in
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span>
-the next minute. He felt that what he was about to do must
-be done rapidly and he knew that he would have strength to
-meet the demand.</p>
-<p>He was quickened to every slight thing that came his way:
-faces, voices, colour. He realized the unrest that his very
-innocent presence inspired. He wondered about it. What
-lay seething under the thick crust of King’s Forest that was
-bubbling to the surface? Was his coming the one thing
-needed to––to–––</p>
-<p>And then he thought of that figure of speech that Manly
-had used. The black lava flowing; oozing, silently. The
-whole world, in the big and in the little, was being awakened
-and aroused––it was that, not his presence, that confused the
-Forest.</p>
-<p>The habits of the house amused and moved him sympathetically.
-Little Aunt Polly, it appeared, was Judge and
-Final Court of Justice to the people. Through her he felt
-he must look for guidance and understanding.</p>
-<p>There were always two hours in the afternoons set aside
-for “hearings.” Perched on the edge of the couch, pillows to
-right and left, eyeglasses aslant and knitting in hand, Aunt
-Polly was at the disposal of her neighbours. They could
-make appointments for private interviews or air their grievances
-before others, as the spirit urged them. Awful verdicts,
-clean-cut and simple, were arrived at; advice, grim and
-far-reaching, was generously given, but woe to the liar or
-sniveller.</p>
-<p>A curious sort of understanding grew up between Northrup
-and the little woman concerning these conclaves. Polly
-sensed his interest in all that went on and partly comprehended
-the real reason for it. She had been strangely impressed
-by the knowledge that her guest was a writer-man
-and therefore conscientious about the mental food she set
-before him. She did not share Peter’s doubts. Some
-things she felt were not for Northrup and that fast-flying pen
-of his! But there were other glimpses behind the shields of
-King’s Forest that did not matter. To these Northrup was
-welcome.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></div>
-<p>When the hour came for <i>court</i> to sit, it became Northrup’s
-habit to seek the front porch for exercise and fresh air. Sometimes
-the window nearest to Aunt Polly’s sofa would be left
-open! Sometimes it was closed.</p>
-<p>In the latter emergency Northrup sought his exercise and
-fresh air at a distance.</p>
-<p>One day Maclin called. Northrup had not seen him before
-and was interested. Indirectly he was concerned with the
-story in hand for he was the mysterious friend of Larry Rivers
-and the puller of many strings in King’s Forest; strings that
-were manipulated in ways that aroused suspicion and would
-be great stuff in a book.</p>
-<p>Northrup had seen Maclin from his room window and,
-when all was safe, quietly took to the back stairs and silently
-reached the piazza.</p>
-<p>The window by Aunt Polly’s couch was open a little higher
-than usual and the words that greeted Northrup were:</p>
-<p>“<i>I</i> call it muggy, Mr. Maclin. That’s what <i>I</i> call it, and
-if the draught hits the nape of your neck, set the other side of
-the hearth where there ain’t no draught.”</p>
-<p>This, apparently, the caller proceeded to do. Outside
-Northrup took a chair and refrained from smoking. He
-wanted his presence to be unsuspected by the caller. He was
-confident that Aunt Polly knew of his proximity, and he felt
-sure that Maclin had come to find out more about him.</p>
-<p>From the first Northrup was aware of a subtle meaning for
-the call and he wondered if the woman, clicking her needles,
-fully comprehended it! The man, Maclin, he soon gathered,
-was no ordinary personage. He had a kind of superficial
-polish and culture that were evident in the tones of his voice.
-After having accounted for his presence by stating that he
-was looking about a bit and felt like being friendly, Maclin
-was rounded up by Aunt Polly asking what he was looking
-about at?</p>
-<p>Maclin laughed.</p>
-<p>“To tell the truth,” he said, as if taking Aunt Polly into
-his intimate confidence, “I was looking at the Point. A
-darned dirty bit of ground with all those squatters on it.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></div>
-<p>“We haven’t ever called ’em that, Mr. Maclin. They’re
-folks with nowhere else to live.” Aunt Polly clicked her
-needles.</p>
-<p>“They’re a dirty, lazy lot. I can’t get ’em to work over
-at the mines, do what I will.”</p>
-<p>“As to that, Mr. Maclin, folks as are mostly drunk on bad
-whiskey can’t be expected to do good work, can they? Then
-again, if they are sober, I dare say they are too keen about
-those inventions of yours that must be so secret. Foreigners,
-for that purpose, I reckon are easier to manage.”</p>
-<p>Maclin shifted his position and put the nape of his neck
-nearer the window again and Northrup lost any doubt he had
-about Aunt Polly’s understanding of the situation.</p>
-<p>Maclin laughed. It was a trick of his to laugh while he
-got control of himself.</p>
-<p>“You’re a real idealist, Miss Heathcote; most ladies are,
-some men are, too, until they have to handle the ugly facts
-of life.”</p>
-<p>Peter was meant by “some men,” Northrup suspected.</p>
-<p>“Now, speaking of the whiskey, Miss Heathcote, it’s as
-good over at my place as the men can afford, and better, too.
-I don’t make anything at the Cosey Bar, I can assure you,
-but I know that men have to have their drink, and I think
-it’s better to keep it under control.”</p>
-<p>“That’s real human of you, Mr. Maclin, but I wish to goodness
-you’d keep the men under control after they’ve had
-their drink. They certainly do make a mess of the peace
-and happiness of others while they’re indulging in their
-rights.”</p>
-<p>A silence, then Maclin started again. “Truth is, Miss
-Heathcote, the men ’round here are shucks, and I’m keeping
-my eye open for the real interest of King’s Forest, not the
-sentimental interest. Now, that Point––we ought to clean
-that up, build decent, comfortable cottages there and a wharf;
-keep the men as have ambition and can pay rents, and get
-others in, foreigners if you like, who know their business and
-can set a good example. We’re all running to seed down here,
-Miss Heathcote, and that’s a fact. I don’t mind telling you,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span>
-you’re a woman of a thousand and can see what’s what, I
-<i>am</i> inventing some pretty clever things down at my place
-and it wouldn’t be safe to let on until they’re perfected, and
-I do want good workers, not loafers or snoopers, and I <i>do</i>
-want that Point. It’s nearer to the mines than any other
-spot on the Lake. I want to build a good road to it; the
-squatters could be utilized on that––the Pointers, I mean.
-You and your brother ought to be keen enough to work with
-me, not against me. Sentiment oughtn’t to go too far where
-a lot of lazy beggars are concerned.”</p>
-<p>The clicking of the needles was the only sound after Maclin’s
-long speech; he was waiting and breathing quicker.
-Northrup could hear the deep breathing.</p>
-<p>“How do you feel about it, Miss Heathcote?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! I don’t let my feelings get the better of me till I
-know what’s stirring them.”</p>
-<p>Northrup stifled a laugh, but Maclin, feeling secure,
-laughed loudly.</p>
-<p>“It’s like asking me, Mr. Maclin, to get stirred up and set
-going by a pig in a poke.” Aunt Polly’s voice was thin and
-sharp. “I always <i>see</i> the pig before I get excited, maybe it
-would be best kept in the poke. Now, Peter and me have a
-real feeling about the Point––it belonged, as far as we know,
-to old Doctor Rivers, and all that he had he left to Mary-Clare
-and we feel sort of responsible to him and her. We
-would all shield anything that belonged to the old doctor.”</p>
-<p>“Is her title clear to that land?” Maclin did not laugh
-now, Northrup noted that.</p>
-<p>“Land! Mr. Maclin, anything as high-sounding as a title
-tacked on to the Point is real ridiculous! But if the title
-ain’t clear, I guess brother Peter can make it so. Peter being
-magistrate comes in handy.”</p>
-<p>“Miss Heathcote”––from his tones Northrup judged that
-Maclin was coming into the open––“Miss Heathcote, the title
-of the Point isn’t a clear one. I’ve made it my business to
-find out. Now I’m going to prove my friendliness––I’m not
-going to push what I know, I’ll take all the risks myself. I’ll
-give Mrs. Rivers a fair price for that land and everything will
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span>
-be peaceful and happy if you will use your influence with her
-and the squatters. Will you?”</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly slipped from the sofa. Northrup heard her, and
-imagined the look on her face.</p>
-<p>“No, Mr. Maclin, I won’t! When the occasion rises up,
-I’ll advise Mary-Clare against pigs in pokes and I’ll advise
-the squatters to squat on!”</p>
-<p>Northrup again had difficulty in smothering his laugh, but
-Maclin’s next move surprised and sobered him.</p>
-<p>“Isn’t that place under the stairs, Miss Heathcote, where
-the bar of the old inn used to be?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, sir, yes!” It was an ominous sign when Aunt Polly
-addressed any one as “sir.” “But that was before our time.
-Peter and I cleaned the place out as best we could, but there
-are times now, even, while I sit here alone in the dark, when
-I seem to see shadows of poor wives and mothers and children
-stealing in that door a-looking for their men. Don’t that
-thought ever haunt you, Mr. Maclin, over at the Cosey
-Bar?”</p>
-<p>They were sparring, these two.</p>
-<p>“No, it never does. I take things as they are, Miss Heathcote,
-and let them go at that. Now, if <i>I</i> were to run this
-place, do you know, I’d do it right and proper and have a
-what’s what and make money.”</p>
-<p>“But you’re not running this inn, sir.”</p>
-<p>“Certainly I’m not <i>now</i>, that’s plain enough, or I’d make
-King’s Forest sit up and take notice. Well, well, Miss
-Heathcote, just talk over with your brother what I’ve
-said to you. A man looks at some things different from a
-woman. Good-bye, ma’am, good-bye. Looks as if it were
-clearing.”</p>
-<p>As Maclin came upon the piazza he stopped short at the
-sight of Northrup by the open window. He wasn’t often
-betrayed into showing surprise, but he was now. He had
-come hoping to get a glimpse of the stranger; had come to
-get in an early warning of his power, but he wanted to control
-conditions.</p>
-<p>“Good afternoon,” he muttered. “Looks more like clearing,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span>
-doesn’t it? Stranger in these parts? I’ve heard of you;
-haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you.”</p>
-<p>Northrup regarded Maclin coolly as one man does another
-when there is no apparent reason why he should not.</p>
-<p>“The clouds <i>do</i> seem lifting. No, I’m not what you might
-call a stranger in King’s Forest. Some lake, isn’t it, and good
-woodland?”</p>
-<p>“One of the family, eh? Happy to meet you.” Maclin
-offered a broad, heavy hand. Northrup took it and smiled
-cordially without speaking. “Staying on some time?”</p>
-<p>“I haven’t decided exactly.”</p>
-<p>“Come over to the mines and look around. Nothing there
-as yet but a dump heap, so to speak, but I’m working out a big
-proposition and while I have to go slow and keep somewhat
-under cover for a time––I don’t mind showing what <i>can</i> be
-shown.”</p>
-<p>“Thanks,” Northrup nodded, “I’ll get over if I find time.
-I’m here on business myself and am rather busy in a slow,
-lazy fashion, but I’ll not forget.”</p>
-<p>Maclin put on his hat and turned away. Northrup got an
-unpleasant impression of the man’s head in the back. It
-was flat and his neck met it in flabby folds that wrinkled
-under certain emotions as other men’s foreheads did. The
-expressive neck was wrinkling now.</p>
-<p>Giving Aunt Polly time to recover her poise, Northrup
-went inside. He found the small woman hovering about the
-room, patting the furniture, dusting it here and there with
-her apron. Her glasses were quite misty.</p>
-<p>“I hope you kept your ears open,” she exclaimed when
-she turned to Northrup.</p>
-<p>“I did, Aunt Polly! Come, sit down and let’s talk it
-over.”</p>
-<p>Polly obeyed at once and let restraint drop.</p>
-<p>“That man has a real terrible effect on me, son. He’s
-like acid sorter creeping in. I don’t suppose he could do
-what he hints––but his hints just naturally make me anxious.”</p>
-<p>“He cannot get a hold on you, Aunt Polly. Surely your
-brother is more than a match for any one like Maclin.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></div>
-<p>“When it comes to that, son, Peter can fight his own in
-the open, but he ain’t any hand to sense danger in the dark
-till it’s too late. Peter never can believe a fellow man is
-doing him a bad turn till he’s bowled over. But then,” she
-ran on plaintively, “it ain’t just us––Peter, Mary-Clare,
-and me––it’s them folks down on the Point,” the old face
-quivered touchingly. “The old doctor used to say it was
-God’s acre for the living; the old doctor would have his joke.
-The Point always was a mean piece of land for any regular
-use, but it reaches out a bit into the lake and the fishing’s
-good round it, and you can fasten boats to it and it’s a real
-safe place for old folks and children. There’s always drifting
-creatures wherever you may be, son, and King’s Forest
-has ’em, but the old doctor held as they ought to have some
-place to move in, if we let ’em be born. So he set aside the
-Point and never took anything from them, though he gave
-them a lot, what with doctoring and funerals. Dear, dear!
-there are real comical happenings at the Point. I often sit
-and shake over them. Real human nature down there!
-Mary-Clare goes down and reads the Bible to the Pointers––they
-just about adore her, and she wouldn’t sell them out,
-not for bread and butter for her very own! It’s the title as
-worries Peter and me, son. We’ve always known it was
-tricky, but, lands! we never thought it would come to arguing
-about and I put it to you: What does this Maclin man
-want of that Point?”</p>
-<p>Northrup looked interested.</p>
-<p>“I’m going to find out,” he said presently, feeling strangely
-as if he had become part and parcel of the matter. “I’m
-going to find out and you mustn’t worry any more, Aunt
-Polly. We’ll try Maclin at his own game and go him one
-better. He cannot account for me, I’m making him uneasy.
-Now you help the thing along by just squatting––that’s
-a good phrase of yours; one can accomplish much by
-just squatting on his holdings.”</p>
-<p>And now that tricky imagination of Northrup’s pictured
-Mary-Clare in the thick of it and carrying out the old doctor’s
-whims; taking to the desolate bit of ground the sweetness
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span>
-and brightness of her loveliness. It was disconcerting,
-but at the same time gratifying, that pervasive quality of
-Mary-Clare. She was already as deep in the plot of Northrup’s
-work as she was in the Forest. Whenever Northrup
-saw her, and he did often, on the road he was amused at the
-feeling he had of <i>knowing</i> her. So might it be had he come
-across an old acquaintance who did not recognize him. It
-was a feeling wrought with excitement and danger; he might
-some day startle her by taking advantage of it.</p>
-<p>The weather, after the storm, took an unexpected turn.
-Instead of bringing frost it brought days almost as warm as
-late summer. The colour glistened; the leaves clung to
-the branches, but the nights were cool. The lake lay like an
-opal, flashing gorgeously in the sun, or like a moonstone,
-when the sun sank behind the hills.</p>
-<p>One afternoon Northrup went to the deserted chapel on
-the island. He walked around the building which was covered
-with a crimson vine; he looked up at the belfry, in which
-hung the bell so responsive to unseen hands.</p>
-<p>The place was like a haunted spot, but beautiful beyond
-words. Northrup tried the door––it swung in; it shared the
-peculiarities of all the other doors of the Forest.</p>
-<p>Inside, the light came ruddily through the scarlet creeper
-that covered the windows––no stained glass could have been
-more exquisite; the benches were dusty and uncushioned, the
-pulpit dark and reproving in its aloofness. By the most westerly
-window there was a space where, apparently, an organ
-had once stood. There was a table near by and a chair.</p>
-<p>An idea gripped Northrup––he would come to the chapel
-and write. There was a stove by the door. He could
-utilize that should necessity arise.</p>
-<p>He sat down and considered. Presently he was lost in
-the working out of his growing plot; already he was well on his
-way. Over night, as it were, his theme had become clear
-and connected. He meant to become part of his book,
-rather than its creator; he would be governed by events;
-not seek to govern them. In short, as far as in him lay, he
-would live, the next few weeks, as a man does who has lost
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span>
-his identity and moves among his fellows, intent on the present,
-but with the background a blank.</p>
-<p>Northrup felt that if, at the end of his self-ordained exile,
-he had regained his health, outlined a book, and ascertained
-what was the cause of the suspicious unrest of the Forest,
-he would have accomplished more than he had set out to do
-and would be in a position where he could decide definitely
-upon his course regarding the war, about which few, apparently,
-felt as he did.</p>
-<p>It was his spiritual and physical struggle, as he contemplated
-the matter now, that was his undoing. He was trying
-to drive the horror from his consciousness, as a thing apart
-from him and his. He was overwhelmed by the possessiveness
-of the awful thing. It caught and held him, threatened
-everything he held sacred. Well, this should be the test!
-He would abide by the outcome of his stay in the Forest.</p>
-<p>At that moment Maclin, oddly enough, came into Northrup’s
-thoughts and the fat, ingratiating man became part, not
-of the plot of the book, but the grim struggle across the sea.</p>
-<p>“Good God!” Northrup spoke aloud; “could it be possible?”
-All along he had been able to ignore the suggestions
-of disloyalty and treachery that many of his friends held, but
-a glaring possibility of Maclin playing a hideous rôle alarmed
-him; made every fibre of his being stiffen. The man was
-undoubtedly German, though his name was not. What was
-he up to?</p>
-<p>There are moments in life when human beings are aware of
-being but puppets in a big game; they may tug at the strings
-that control them; may perform within certain limits, but
-must resign themselves to the fact that the strings are unbreakable.
-Such a feeling possessed Northrup now. He laughed.
-He was not inclined to struggle––he bowed to the inevitable
-with a keen desire for coöperation.</p>
-<p>At this point something caused Northrup to look around.</p>
-<p>Upon a bench near by, hunched like a gargoyle, with her
-vague face nested in the palms of her thin hands, sat the
-girl he had noted in the yellow house the day of his arrival.
-One glance at her and she seemed to bring the scene back.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span>
-The sunny room, the children, the dogs, and the girl on the
-table, who had soon become so familiar to him.</p>
-<p>“Good Lord!” he ejaculated. “And who are you?”</p>
-<p>“Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>Another name become a person! Northrup smiled. They
-were all materializing; the names, the stories.</p>
-<p>“I see. Well?”</p>
-<p>There was a pause. The girl was studying him slowly, almost
-painfully, but she did not speak.</p>
-<p>“Where do you live, Jan-an?”</p>
-<p>This made talk and filled an uncomfortable pause.</p>
-<p>“One place and another. I was left.”</p>
-<p>“Left?”</p>
-<p>“Yep. Left on the town. Folks take me in turn-about.
-I just jog along. I’m staying over to the Point now. Next
-I’m going to Aunt Polly. I chooses, I do. I likes to jog
-along.”</p>
-<p>The girl was inclined to be friendly and she was amusing.</p>
-<p>“Did you hear the bell ring the night you came––the ha’nt
-bell?” she asked.</p>
-<p>“I certainly did.”</p>
-<p>“’Twas a warning, and then here <i>you</i> are! Generally
-warnings mean bad things, but Aunt Polly says you’re right
-enough and generally they ain’t when they’re young.”</p>
-<p>“Who are not, Jan-an?”</p>
-<p>“Men. When they get old, like Uncle Peter, they meller
-or–––”</p>
-<p>“Or what?”</p>
-<p>“Naturally drop off.”</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed. The sound disturbed the girl and she
-scowled.</p>
-<p>“It’s terrible to have folks think you’re a fool to be laughed
-at,” she muttered. “I can’t get things over.”</p>
-<p>“What do you want to get over, Jan-an?”</p>
-<p>Northrup was becoming interested. If straws show the
-wind’s quarter, then a bit of driftwood may be depended upon
-to indicate the course of a stream. Northrup was again
-both amused and surprised to find how his very ordinary presence
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span>
-in King’s Forest was, apparently, affecting the natives.
-Jan-an took on new proportions as she was regarded in the
-light of a straw or a bit of driftwood.</p>
-<p>“Yer feelin’s,” the girl answered simply. “When you don’
-understand like most do, yer feelin’s count, they do!”</p>
-<p>“They certainly do, Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>The girl considered this and struggled, evidently, to adjust
-her companion to suit her needs, but at last she shook her
-head.</p>
-<p>“I ain’t going to take no chances with yer!” she muttered
-at length. “’Tain’t natural. Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter
-ain’t risking so much as––her–––”</p>
-<p>“You mean–––” Northrup felt guilty. He knew whom
-the girl meant––he felt as if he were taking advantage;
-eavesdropping or reading someone else’s letter.</p>
-<p>Jan-an sunk her face deeper into the cup of her hands––this
-pressed her features up and made her look laughably
-ugly. She was not taking much heed of the man near by; she
-was seeking to collect all the shreds of evidence she had gathered
-from listening, in her rapt, tense way, and making some
-definite case for, or against, the stranger who, Aunt Polly
-had assured her, was “good and proper.”</p>
-<p>“Now, everything was running on same as common,”
-Jan-an muttered––“same as common. Then that old ha’nt
-bell took to ringing, like all possessed. I just naturally
-thought ’bout you dropping out of a clear sky and asking
-us the way to the inn when it was plain as the nose on yer
-face how yer should go. What do you suppose folks paint
-sign-boards for, eh?” The twisted ideas sprang into a
-question.</p>
-<p>“That’s one on me, Jan-an!” Northrup laughed. “I
-was afraid I’d be found out.”</p>
-<p>“Can’t yer read?” Jan-an could not utterly distrust this
-person who was puzzling her.</p>
-<p>“Yes, I can read and write, Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>“Then what in tarnation made yer plump in that way?”</p>
-<p>“The Lord knows, Jan-an!” Almost the tone was reverent.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></div>
-<p>“Then <i>he</i> came ructioning in––Larry, I mean. An’ everything
-is different from what it was. Just like a bubbling pot”––poor
-Jan-an grew picturesque––“with the top wobbling. I
-wish”––she turned pleading eyes on Northrup––“I wish ter
-God you’d clear out.”</p>
-<p>For a moment Northrup felt again the weakening desire
-to follow this advice, but, as he thought on, his chin set
-in a fixed way that meant that he was not going to move on,
-but stay where he was. He meant, also, to get what he could
-from this strange creature who had sought him out. He
-convinced himself that it was legitimate, and since he meant
-to get at the bottom of what was going on, he must use
-what came to hand.</p>
-<p>“So Larry has come back?” he asked indifferently. Then:
-“I’ve caught sight of him from a distance. Good-looking
-fellow, this Larry of yours, Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>“He ain’t mine. If he was–––” Jan-an looked mutinous
-and Northrup laughed.</p>
-<p>“See here, you!” The girl was irritated by the laugh.
-“Larry, he thinks that Mary-Clare has set eyes on yer
-before yer came that day. Larry is making ructions, and
-folks are talking.”</p>
-<p>“Well, that’s ridiculous.” Northrup found his heart
-beating a bit quicker.</p>
-<p>“I know it is, but Maclin can make Larry think anything.
-Honest to God, yer ain’t siding ’long of Maclin?”</p>
-<p>“Honest to God, Jan-an, I’m not.”</p>
-<p>“Then why did yer stumble in on us that way?”</p>
-<p>“I don’t know, Jan-an. That’s honest to God, too!”</p>
-<p>“Then if nothing is mattering ter yer, and one place is as
-good as another, why don’t you go along?”</p>
-<p>Northrup gave this due consideration. He was preparing to
-answer something in his own mind. The dull-faced girl was
-having a peculiar effect upon him. He was getting excited.</p>
-<p>“Well, Jan-an,” he said at last, “it’s this way. Things
-<i>are</i> mattering. Mattering like thunder! And one place
-isn’t as good as another; this place is the only place on the
-map just now––catch on?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></div>
-<p>Jan-an was making strenuous efforts to “catch on”; her
-face appeared like a rubber mask that unseen fingers were
-pinching into comical expressions.</p>
-<p>Northrup began to wonder just how mentally lacking the
-girl was.</p>
-<p>“But tuck this away in your noddle, Jan-an. Your Uncle
-Peter and Aunt Polly have the right understanding. They
-trust me, and you will some day. I’m going to stay right
-here––pass that along to anyone who asks you, Jan-an. I’m
-going to stay here and see this thing out!”</p>
-<p>“What thing?”</p>
-<p>The elusive something that was puzzling the girl, the
-sense of something wrong that her blinded but sensitive nature
-suffered from, loomed close. This man might make it
-plain.</p>
-<p>“What thing?” she asked huskily. Then Northrup
-laughed that disturbing laugh of his.</p>
-<p>“I don’t know, Jan-an. ’Pon my soul, girl, I’d give a
-good deal to know, but I don’t. I’m like you, just feeling
-things.”</p>
-<p>Jan-an rose stiffly as if she were strung on wires. Her
-joints cracked as they fell into place, but once the long body
-stood upright, Northrup noticed that it was not without a
-certain rough grace and it looked strong and capable of great
-endurance.</p>
-<p>“I’ve been following you since the first day when you
-landed,” Jan-an spoke calmly. There was no warning or
-distrust in the voice, merely a statement of fact. “And I’m
-going to keep on following and watching, so long as you
-stay.”</p>
-<p>“Good! I’ll never be really lonely then, and you’ll sooner
-get to trusting me.”</p>
-<p>“I ain’t much for trusting till I knows.”</p>
-<p>The girl turned and strode away. “Well, if you ever
-need me, try me out, Jan-an. Good-bye.”</p>
-<p>Northrup felt ill at ease after Jan-an passed from sight.</p>
-<p>“Of all the messes!” he thought. “It makes me superstitious.
-What’s the matter with this Forest?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></div>
-<p>And then Maclin again came into focus. Around Maclin,
-apparently, the public thought revolved.</p>
-<p>“They don’t trust Maclin.” Northrup began to reduce
-things to normal. “He’s got them guessing with his damned
-inventions and secrecy. Then every outsider means a possible
-accomplice of Maclin. They hate the foreigners he brings
-here. They have got their eyes on me. All right, Maclin,
-my ready-to-wear villain, here’s to you! And before we’re
-through with each other some interesting things will occur,
-or I’ll miss my guess.”</p>
-<p>In much the same mood of excitement, Northrup had entered
-upon the adventure of writing his former book, with
-this difference: He had gone to the East Side of his home
-city with all his anchors cast in a familiar harbour; he was
-on the open sea now. There had been his mother and Kathryn
-before; the reliefs of home comforts, “fumigations”
-Kathryn termed them; now he was part of his environment,
-determined to cast no backward look until his appointed task
-was finished in failure or––success.</p>
-<p>The chapel and the day had soothed and comforted him:
-he was ready to abandon the hold on every string. This
-space of time, of unfettered thought and work, was like existence
-in a preparation camp. This became a fixed idea presently––he
-was being prepared for service; fitted for his place
-in a new Scheme. That was the only safe way to regard life,
-at the best. Here, there, it mattered not, but the preparation
-counted.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_VI' id='CHAPTER_VI'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
-</div>
-<p>When Mary-Clare awoke the next morning she heard
-Larry still moving about overhead as if he had been
-doing it all night. He was opening drawers; going
-to and fro between closet and bed; pausing, rustling papers,
-and giving the impression, generally, that he was bent upon a
-definite plan.</p>
-<p>Noreen was sleeping deeply, one little arm stretched over
-her pillow and toward her mother as if feeling for the dear
-presence. Somehow the picture comforted Mary-Clare.
-She was strangely at peace. After her bungling––and she
-knew she had bungled with Larry––she <i>had</i> secured safety
-for Noreen and herself. It was right: the other way would
-have bent and cowed her and ended as so many women’s lives
-ended. Larry never could understand, but God could!
-Mary-Clare had a simple faith and it helped her now.</p>
-<p>While she lay thinking and looking at Noreen she became
-conscious of Larry tiptoeing downstairs. She started up
-hoping to begin the new era as right as might be. She wanted
-to get breakfast and start whatever might follow as sanely as
-possible.</p>
-<p>But Larry had gone so swiftly, once he reached the lower
-floor, that only by running after him in her light apparel
-could she attract his attention. He was out of the house
-and on the road toward the mines!</p>
-<p>Then Mary-Clare, seized by one of those presentiments
-that often light a dark moment, closed the door, shivering
-slightly, and went upstairs.</p>
-<p>The carefully prepared bedchamber was in great disorder.
-The bedclothes were pulled from the bed and lay in a heap
-near by; towels, the soiled linen that Larry had discarded for
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span>
-the fresh, that had been placed in the bureau drawers, was
-rolled in a bundle and flung on the hearth.</p>
-<p>This aspect of the room did not surprise Mary-Clare.
-Larry generally dropped what he was for the moment
-through with, but there was more here than heedless carelessness.
-Drawers were pulled out and empty. The closet was
-open and empty. There was a finality about the scene that
-could not be misunderstood. Larry was gone in a definite
-and sweeping manner.</p>
-<p>Dazed and perplexed, Mary-Clare went to the closet and
-suddenly was made aware, by the sight of an empty box
-upon the floor, that in her preparation of the room she had
-left that box, containing the old letters of her doctor, on a
-shelf and that now they had been taken away!</p>
-<p>What this loss signified could hardly be estimated at
-first. So long had those letters been guide-posts and reinforcements,
-so long had they comforted and soothed her like
-a touch or look of her old friend, that now she raised the
-empty box with a sharp sense of pain. So might she gaze
-at Noreen’s empty crib had the child been taken from her.</p>
-<p>Then, intuitively, Mary-Clare tried to be just, she thought
-that Larry must have taken the letters because of old and
-now severed connections They <i>were</i> his letters, but–––</p>
-<p>Here Mary-Clare, also because she was just, considered the
-other possible cause. Larry might use the letters against her
-in the days to come. Show them to others to prove her
-falseness and ingratitude. This possibility, however, was
-only transitory. What she had done was inevitable, Mary-Clare
-knew that, and it seemed to her right––oh! <i>so</i> right.
-There was only one real fact to face. Larry was gone; the
-letters were gone.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare began to tremble. The cold room, all that had
-so deeply moved her was shaking her nerves. Then she
-thought that in his hurry Larry might have overturned the
-box––the letters might be on the shelf still. Quickly she went
-into the closet and felt carefully every corner. The letters
-were not there.</p>
-<p>Then with white face and chattering teeth she turned and
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span>
-faced Jan-an. The girl had come noiselessly to the house
-and found her way to the room where she had heard sounds––she
-had seen Larry fleeing on the lake road as she came over
-the fields from the Point.</p>
-<p>“What’s up?” she asked in her dull, even tones, while in
-her vacant eyes the groping, tender look grew.</p>
-<p>“Oh! Jan-an,” Mary-Clare was off her guard, “the letters;
-my dear old doctor’s letters––they are gone; gone.” Her
-feeling seemed out of all proportion to the loss.</p>
-<p>“Who took ’em?” And then Jan-an did one of those
-quick, intelligent things that sometimes shamed sharper wits––she
-went to the hearth. “There ain’t been no fire,” she
-muttered. “He ain’t burned ’em. What did he take them
-for?”</p>
-<p>This question steadied Mary-Clare. “I’m not <i>sure</i>, Jan-an,
-that any one has <i>taken</i> the letters. You know how careless
-I am. I may have put them somewhere else.”</p>
-<p>“If yer have there’s no need fussing. I’ll find ’em. I
-kin find anything if yer give me time. I have ter get on the
-scent.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare gave a nervous laugh.</p>
-<p>“Just old letters,” she murmured, “but they meant, oh!
-they meant so much. Come,” she said suddenly, “come, I
-must dress and get breakfast.”</p>
-<p>“I’ve et.” Jan-an was gathering the bedclothes from the
-floor. She selected the coverlid and brought it to Mary-Clare.
-“There, now,” she whispered, wrapping it about her,
-“you come along and get into bed downstairs till I make
-breakfast. You need looking after more than Noreen. God!
-what messes some folks can make by just living!”</p>
-<p>Things were reduced to the commonplace in an hour.</p>
-<p>The warmth of her bed, the sight of Noreen, the sound of
-Jan-an moving about, all contributed to the state of mind
-that made her panic almost laughable to Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>Things had happened too suddenly for her; events had
-become congested in an environment that was antagonistic
-to change. A change had undoubtedly come but it must be
-met bravely and faithfully.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></div>
-<p>The sun was flooding the big living-room when Mary-Clare,
-Noreen, and Jan-an sat down to the meal Jan-an had prepared.
-There was a feeling of safety prevailing at last. And
-then Jan-an, her elbows on the table, her face resting in her
-cupped hands, remarked slowly as if repeating a lesson:</p>
-<p>“He’s dead, Philander Sniff. Went terrible sudden after
-taking all this time. I clean forgot––letters and doings. I
-can’t think of more than one thing at a time.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare set her cup down sharply while Noreen with
-one of those whimsical turns of hers drawled in a sing-song:</p>
-<p>“Old Philander Sniff, he died just like a whiff–––”</p>
-<p>“Noreen!” Mary-Clare stared at the child while Jan-an
-chuckled in a rough, loose way as if her laugh were small
-stones rattling in her throat.</p>
-<p>“Well, Motherly, Philander was a cruel old man. Just
-being dead don’t make him anything different but––dead.”</p>
-<p>“Noreen, you must keep quiet. Jan-an, tell me about
-it.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare’s voice commanded the situation. Jan-an’s
-stony gurgle ceased and she began relating what she had
-come to tell.</p>
-<p>“I took his supper over to him, same as usual, and set it
-down on the back steps, and when he opened the door I said,
-like I allas done, ‘Peneluna says good-night,’ and he took in
-the food and slammed the door, same as usual.”</p>
-<p>“Old Philander Sniff–––” began Noreen’s chant as she
-slipped from her chair intent upon a doll by the hearthside.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare took no notice of her but nodded to Jan-an.</p>
-<p>“And then,” the girl went on, “I went in to Peneluna and
-told her and then we et and went to bed. Long about midnight,
-I guess, there was a yell!” Jan-an lost her breath and
-paused, then rushed along: “He’d raised his winder and
-after all the keeping still, he called for Peneluna to come.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare visualized the dramatic scene that poor Jan-an
-was mumbling monotonously.</p>
-<p>“And she went! I just lay there scared stiff hearing things
-an’ seeing ’em! Come morning, in walked Peneluna looking
-still and high and she didn’t say nothing till she’d gone and
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span>
-fetched those togs of hers, black ’uns, you know, that Aunt
-Polly gave her long back. She put ’em on, bonnet and veil
-an’ everything. Then she took an old red rose out of a box
-and pinned it on the front of her bonnet––God! but she did
-look skeery––and then said to me awful careful, ‘Trot on to
-Mary-Clare, tell her to fotch the marriage service <i>and</i> the
-funeral one, both!’ Jes’ like that she said it. Both!”</p>
-<p>“This is very strange,” Mary-Clare said slowly and got up.
-“I’m going to the Point, Jan-an, and you will take Noreen
-to the inn, like a good girl. I’ll call for her in the afternoon.”</p>
-<p>“Take both!” Jan-an was nodding her willingness to obey.
-And Mary-Clare took her prayer-book with her.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare had the quiet Forest to herself apparently, for
-on the way to the Point she met no one. On ahead she
-traced, she believed, Larry’s footprints, but when she turned
-on the trail to the Point, they were not there.</p>
-<p>All along her way Mary-Clare went over in her thought the
-story of Philander Sniff and Peneluna. It was the romance
-and mystery of the sordid Point.</p>
-<p>Years before, when Mary-Clare was a little child, Philander
-had drifted, from no one knew where, to the mines and the
-Point. He lived in one of the ramshackle huts; gave promise
-of paying for it, did, in fact, pay a few dollars to old Doctor
-Rivers, and then became a squatter. He was injured at the
-mines and could do no more work and at that juncture Peneluna
-had arrived upon the scene from the same unknown
-quarter apparently whence Philander had hailed. She took
-the empty cottage next Philander’s and paid for it by service
-in Doctor Rivers’s home. She was clean, thrifty, and strangely
-silent. When Philander first beheld her he was shaken,
-for a moment, out of his glum silence. “God Almighty!”
-he confided to Twombly who had worked in the mines with
-him and had looked after him in his illness; “yer can’t shake
-some women even when it’s for their good.”</p>
-<p>That was all. Through the following years the two shacks
-became the only clean and orderly ones on the Point. When
-Philander hobbled from his quarters, Peneluna went in and
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span>
-scrubbed and scoured. After a time she cooked for the old
-man and left the food on his back steps. He took it in, ate it,
-and had the grace to wash the dishes before setting them
-back.</p>
-<p>“Some mightn’t,” poor Peneluna had said to Aunt Polly
-in defence of Sniff.</p>
-<p>As far as any one knew the crabbed old man never spoke
-to his devoted neighbour, but she had never complained.</p>
-<p>“I wonder what happened before they came here?” After
-all the years of taking the strange condition for granted,
-it sprang into quickened life. Mary-Clare was soon to
-know and it had a bearing upon her own highly sensitive
-state.</p>
-<p>She made her way to the far end of the Point, passing wide-eyed
-children at play and curious women in doorways.</p>
-<p>“Philander’s dead!” The words were like an accompaniment,
-passing from lip to lip. “An’ she won’t let a soul in.”
-This was added.</p>
-<p>“She will presently,” Mary-Clare reassured them. “She’ll
-need you all, later.”</p>
-<p>There was a little plot of grass between Peneluna’s shack
-and Philander’s and a few scraggy autumn flowers edged a
-well-worn path from one back door to the other!</p>
-<p>At Philander’s front door Mary-Clare knocked and Peneluna
-responded at once. She was dressed as Jan-an had
-described, and for a moment Mary-Clare had difficulty in
-stifling her inclination to laugh.</p>
-<p>The gaunt old woman was in the rusty black she had kept
-in readiness for years; she wore gloves and bonnet; the long
-crêpe veil and the absurd red rose wobbled dejectedly as
-Peneluna moved about.</p>
-<p>“Come in, child, and shut the world out.” Then, leading
-the way to an inner room, “Have yer got <i>both</i> services?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Peneluna.” Then Mary-Clare started back.</p>
-<p>She was in the presence of the dead. He lay rigid and
-carefully prepared for burial on the narrow bed. He looked
-decent, at peace, and with that unearthly dignity that death
-often offers as its first gift.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span></div>
-<p>Peneluna drew two chairs close to the bed; waved Mary-Clare
-majestically to one and took the other herself. She
-was going to lay her secrets before the one she had chosen––after
-that the shut-out world might have its turn.</p>
-<p>“I’ve sent word over to the Post Office,” Peneluna began,
-“and they’re going to get folks, the doctor and minister and
-the rest. Before they get here––” Peneluna paused––“before
-they get here I want that you should act for the old
-doctor.”</p>
-<p>This was the one thing needed to rouse Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>“I’ll do my best, Peneluna,” she whispered, and clutched
-the prayer-book.</p>
-<p>“The ole doctor, he knew ’bout Philander and me. He
-said”––Peneluna caught her breath––“he said once as how
-it was women like me that kept men believing. He said I
-had a right to hold my tongue––he held his’n.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare nodded. Not even she could ever estimate the
-secret load of confessions her beloved foster-father bore and
-covered with his rare smile.</p>
-<p>“Mary-Clare, I want yer should read the marriage service
-over me and him!” Peneluna gravely nodded to her silent
-dead. “I got this to say: If Philander ain’t too far on his
-journey, I guess he’ll look back and understand and then he
-can go on more cheerful-like and easy. Last night he hadn’t
-more than time to say a few things, but they cleared everything,
-and if I’m his wife, he can trust me––a wife wouldn’t
-harm a dead husband when she <i>might</i> the man who jilted her.”
-The words came through a hard, dry sob. Mary-Clare felt
-her eyes fill with hot tears. She looked out through the one
-open window and felt the warm autumn breeze against her
-cheek; a bit of sunlight slanted across the room and lay
-brightly on the quiet man upon the bed. “Read on, Mary-Clare,
-and then I can speak out.”</p>
-<p>Opening the book with stiff, cold fingers, Mary-Clare read
-softly, brokenly, the solemn words.</p>
-<p>At the close Peneluna stood up.</p>
-<p>“Him and me, Mary-Clare,” she said, “’fore God and you
-is husband and wife.” Then she removed the red rose from
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span>
-her bonnet, laid it upon the folded wrinkled hands of the
-dead man and drew the sheet over him.</p>
-<p>Just then, outside the window, a bird flew past, peeped in,
-fluttered away, singing.</p>
-<p>“Seems like it might be the soul of Philander,” Peneluna
-said––she was crying as the old do, hardly realizing that they
-are crying. Her tears fell unheeded and Mary-Clare was
-crying with her, but conscious of every hurting tear.</p>
-<p>“In honour bound, though it breaks the heart of me, I’m
-going to speak, Mary-Clare, then his poor soul can rest in
-peace.</p>
-<p>“The Methodist parson, what comes teetering ’round just
-so often, always thought Philander was hell-bound, Mary-Clare;
-well, since there ain’t anyone but that parson as knows
-so much about hell, to send for, I’ve sent for him and there’s
-no knowing what he won’t feel called upon to say with Philander
-lying helpless for a text. So now, after I tell you what
-must be told, I want that you should read the burial service
-over Philander and then that parson can do his worst––my
-ears will be deaf to him and Philander can’t hear.”</p>
-<p>There was a heavy pause while Mary-Clare waited.</p>
-<p>“Hell don’t scare me nohow,” Peneluna went on; “seems
-like the most interesting folks is headed for it and I’ll take
-good company every time to what some church folks hands
-out. And, too, hell can’t be half bad if you have them you
-love with you. So the parson can do his worst. Philander
-and me won’t mind now.</p>
-<p>“Back of the time we came here”––Peneluna was picking
-her words as a child does its blocks, carefully in order to form
-the right word––“me and Philander was promised.”</p>
-<p>Drifting about in Mary-Clare’s thought a scrap of old scandal
-stirred, but it had little to feed on and passed.</p>
-<p>“Then a woman got mixed up ’twixt him and me. In her
-young days she’d been French and you know yer can’t get
-away from what’s born in the blood, and the Frenchiness was
-terrible onsettling. Philander was side-twisted. Yer see,
-Mary-Clare, when a man ain’t had nothing but work and
-working folks in his life, a creature that laughs and dances
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span>
-and sings gets like whiskey in the head, and Philander didn’t
-rightfully know what he was about.”</p>
-<p>Peneluna drew the end of her crêpe veil up and wiped her
-eyes.</p>
-<p>“They went off together, him and the furriner. Least, the
-furriner took him off, and the next thing I heard she’d taken
-to her heels and Philander drifted here to the mines. I knew
-he needed me more than ever––he was a dreadful creature
-about doing for himself, not eating at Christian hours, just
-waiting till he keeled over from emptiness, so I came logging
-along after him and––stayed. He was considerable upset
-when he saw me and he never got to, what you might say,
-speaking to me, but he was near and he ate the food I left on
-his steps and he washed the plates and cups and that meant
-a lot to Philander. If I’d been his proper wife he wouldn’t
-have washed ’em. Men don’t when they get used to a
-woman.</p>
-<p>“And then”––here Peneluna caught her breath––“then
-last night he called from his winder and I came. He said,
-holding my hand like it was the last thing left for him to hold:
-‘I didn’t think I had a right to you, Pen’––he used to call me
-Pen––‘after what I did. And I’ve just paid for my evil-doing
-up to the end, not taking comfort and forgiveness––just
-paying!’ I never let on, Mary-Clare, how I’d paid, too.
-Men folks are blind-spotted, we’ve got to take ’em as they are.
-Philander thought he had worked out his soul’s salvation
-while he was starving me, soul and body, but I never let on
-and he died smiling and saying, ‘The food was terrible staying,
-Pen, terrible staying.’”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare could see mistily the long, rigid figure on the
-bed, her eyes ached with unshed tears; her heart throbbed
-like a heavy pain. Here was something she had never understood;
-a thing so real and strong that no earthly touch could
-kill it. What was it?</p>
-<p>But Peneluna was talking on, her poor old face twitching.</p>
-<p>“And now, Mary-Clare, him and me is man and wife before
-God and you. You are terrible understanding, child. With
-all the fol-de-rol the old doctor laid on yer, he laid his own
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span>
-spirit of knowing things on yer, too. Suffering learns folks
-the understanding power. I reckon the old doctor had had
-his share ’fore he came to the Forest––but how you got to
-knowing things, child, and being tender and patient, ’stead
-of hot and full of hate, I don’t know! Now read, soft and low,
-so only us three can hear––the last service.”</p>
-<p>Solemnly, with sweet intonations, Mary-Clare read on and
-on. Again the bird came to the window ledge, looked in, and
-then flew off singing jubilantly. Peneluna smiled a fleeting
-wintry smile and closed her eyes; she seemed to be following
-the bird––or was it old Philander’s soul?</p>
-<p>When the service came to an end, Peneluna arose and with
-grave dignity walked from the room, Mary-Clare following.</p>
-<p>“Now the Pointers can have their way ’cording to rule,
-Mary-Clare,” she whispered, “but you and me understand,
-child. And listen to this, I ain’t much of a muchness, but
-come thick or thin, Mary-Clare, I’ll do my first and last for
-you ’cause of the secret lying ’twixt us.”</p>
-<p>Then Mary-Clare asked the question that was hurting her
-with its weight.</p>
-<p>“Peneluna, was it love, the thing that made you glad,
-through it all, just to wait?”</p>
-<p>“I don’t rightly know, Mary-Clare. It was something
-too big for me to call by name, but I just couldn’t act different
-and kill it, not even when her as once was French made me
-feel I oughter. I wouldn’t darst harm that feeling I had,
-child.”</p>
-<p>“And it paid?”</p>
-<p>“I don’t know. I only know I was glad, when he called
-last night, that I was waiting.”</p>
-<p>Then Mary-Clare raised her face and kissed the old, troubled,
-fumbling lips. The thing, too big for the woman, was
-too big for the girl; but she knew, whatever it was, it must
-not be hurt.</p>
-<p>“What are you going to do now?” she asked.</p>
-<p>“God knows, Mary-Clare. The old doctor gave this place
-to Philander, and he gave me mine, next door. I think, till
-I get my leadings, I’ll hold to this and see what the Lord
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span>
-wants me to do with my old shack. I allas find someone
-waiting to share. Maybe Jan-an will grow to fit in there in
-time. When she gets old and helpless she’ll need some place
-to crawl to and call her own. I don’t know, but I’m a powerful
-waiter and I’ll keep an eye and ear open.”</p>
-<p>On the walk home Mary-Clare grew deeply thoughtful.
-The recent scene took on enormous significance. Detached
-from the pitiful setting, disassociated from the two forlorn
-creatures who were the actors in the tragic story, there rose,
-like a bright and living flame, a something that the girl’s
-imagination caught and held.</p>
-<p>That something was quite apart from laws and codes;
-it came; could not be commanded. It was something that
-marriage could not give, nor death kill. Something that
-could exist on the Point. Something that couldn’t be got
-out of one’s heart, once it had entered in. What was it?
-It wasn’t duty or just living on. It was something too big
-to name. Why was the wonder of it crowding all else out––after
-the long years?</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare left the Point behind her. She entered the
-sweet autumn-tinted woods beyond which lay her home.
-She hoped––oh! yearningly she hoped––that Larry would not
-be there, not just yet. She would go for Noreen; she would
-stay awhile with Aunt Polly and tell her about what had just
-occurred––the service, but not the secret thing.</p>
-<p>Suddenly she stood still and her face shone in the dim
-woods. Just ahead and around a curve, she heard Noreen’s
-voice. But was it Noreen’s?</p>
-<p>Often, in her wondering moments, Mary-Clare had pictured
-her little girl as she longed for her to be––a glad, unthinking
-creature, such as Mary-Clare herself had once been, a singing,
-laughing child. And now, just out of sight, Noreen was
-singing.</p>
-<p>There was a rich gurgle in the flute-like voice; it came
-floating along.</p>
-<p>“Oh! tell it again, please! I want to learn it for Motherly.
-It is awfully funny––and make the funny face that goes with
-it––the crinkly-up face.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div>
-<p>“All right. Here goes!</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>“Up the airy mountain,</p>
-<p>Down the rustly glen––</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>that’s the way, Noreen, scuffle your feet in the leaves––</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>“We daren’t go a-hunting</p>
-<p>For fear of little men.</p>
-<p>Wee folk, good folk</p>
-<p>Trooping all together,</p>
-<p>Green jacket, red cap,</p>
-<p>And white owl’s feather––</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>Here, you, Noreen, play fair; scuffle and keep step, you little
-beggar!”</p>
-<p>“But I may step on the wee men, the good men,” again
-the rich chuckle.</p>
-<p>“No, you won’t if you scuffle and then step high; they’ll slip
-between your feet.”</p>
-<p>Then came the tramp, tramp of the oncoming pair. Big
-feet, little feet. Long strides and short hops.</p>
-<p>So they came in view around the turn of the rough road––Northrup
-with Noreen holding his hand and trying to keep
-step to the swinging words of the old song.</p>
-<p>And Northrup saw Mary-Clare, saw her with a slanting
-sunbeam on her radiant face. The romance of Hunter’s
-Point was in her soul, and the wonder of her child’s happiness.
-She stood and smiled that strange, unforgettable smile of
-hers; the smile that had its birth in unshed tears.</p>
-<p>Northrup hurried toward her, taking in, as he came, her
-loveliness that could not be detracted from by her mud-stained
-and rough clothing. The feeling of knowing her was
-in his mind; she seemed vividly familiar.</p>
-<p>“Your little daughter got homesick, or mother-sick, Mrs.
-Rivers”––Northrup took off his hat––“Aunt Polly gave
-me the privilege of bringing her to you. We became friends
-from the moment we met. We’ve been making great strides
-all day.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></div>
-<p>“Thank you, Mr.–––”</p>
-<p>“Northrup.”</p>
-<p>“Thank you, Mr. Northrup. You have made Noreen
-very happy––and she does not make friends easily.”</p>
-<p>“But, Motherly,” Noreen was flushed and eager. “<i>He</i> isn’t
-a friend. Jan-an told me all about him. He’s something
-the wild-wind brought. You are, aren’t you, Mr. Sir?”</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed.</p>
-<p>“Well, something like that,” he admitted. “May I walk
-along with you, Mrs. Rivers? Unless I go around the lake,
-I must turn back.”</p>
-<p>And so they walked on, Noreen darting here and there
-quite unlike her staid little self, and they talked of many
-things––neither could have told after just what they talked
-about. The conversation was like a stream carrying them
-along to a definite point ordained for them to reach, somewhere,
-some time, on beyond.</p>
-<p>“How on earth could she manage to be what she is?”
-pondered Northrup. “She’s read and thought to some purpose.”</p>
-<p>“What does he mean by being here?” pondered Mary-Clare.
-“This isn’t just a happening.”</p>
-<p>But they chatted pleasantly while they pondered.</p>
-<p>When they came near to the yellow house, Noreen, who
-was ahead, came running back. All the joyousness had fled
-from her face. She looked heavy-eyed and dull.</p>
-<p>“She’s tired,” murmured Mary-Clare, but she knew that
-that was not what ailed Noreen.</p>
-<p>And then she looked toward her house. Larry stood in the
-doorway, smoking and smiling.</p>
-<p>“Will you come and meet my husband?” she asked of
-Northrup.</p>
-<p>“I’ll put off the pleasure, if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Rivers.
-I have learned that one cannot tamper with Aunt Polly’s
-raised biscuits. It’s late, but may I call to-morrow?”
-Northrup stood bareheaded while he spoke.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare nodded. She was mutely thankful when he
-strode on ahead and toward the lake.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></div>
-<p>It was while they were eating their evening meal that
-Larry remarked casually:</p>
-<p>“So that’s the Northrup fellow, is it?” Mary-Clare
-flushed and had a sensation of being lassoed by an invisible
-hand.</p>
-<p>“Yes. He is staying at the inn––I sent Noreen there this
-morning while I went over to the Point; he was bringing
-her home.”</p>
-<p>“He seemed to know that you weren’t home.”</p>
-<p>“Children come in handy,” Larry smiled pleasantly.
-“More potato, Mary-Clare?”</p>
-<p>“No.” Then, almost defiantly: “Larry, Mr. Northrup
-asked his way to the inn the day he was travelling through.
-I have never spoken to him since, until to-day. When he
-found the house empty this afternoon, he naturally–––”</p>
-<p>“Why the explanation?” Larry looked blank and again
-Mary-Clare flushed.</p>
-<p>“I felt one was needed.”</p>
-<p>“I can’t see why. By the way, Mary-Clare, those squatters
-at the Point are going to get a rough deal. Either they’re
-going to pay regular, or be kicked out. I tell you when
-Tim Maclin sets his jaw, there is going to be something doing.”</p>
-<p>This was unfortunate, but Larry was ill at ease.</p>
-<p>“Maclin doesn’t own the Point, Larry.”</p>
-<p>“You better listen to Maclin and not Peter Heathcote.”
-Larry retraced his steps. His doubt of Northrup had led
-him astray.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare gave him a startled look.</p>
-<p>“Maclin’s a brute,” she said quietly. “I prefer to listen
-to my friends.”</p>
-<p>“Maclin’s our friend. Yours and mine. You’ll learn that
-some day.”</p>
-<p>“I doubt it, Larry, but he’s your employer and I do not
-forget that.”</p>
-<p>“I wouldn’t. And you’re going to change your mind some
-fine day, my girl, about a lot of things.”</p>
-<p>“Perhaps.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></div>
-<p>“I’m sleeping outside, Mary-Clare.” Larry rose lazily.
-“I just dropped in to––to call.” He laughed unpleasantly.</p>
-<p>“I’m sorry, Larry, that you feel as you do.”</p>
-<p>“Like hell you are!” The words were barely audible.
-“I’m going to give you a free hand, Mary-Clare, but I’m
-going to let folks see your game. That’s square enough.”</p>
-<p>“All right, Larry.” Mary-Clare’s eyes flickered. Then:
-“Why did you take those letters?”</p>
-<p>Larry looked blankly at her.</p>
-<p>“I haven’t taken any letters. What you hoaxing up?”
-He waited a moment but when Mary-Clare made no reply he
-stalked from the house angrily and into the night.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_VII' id='CHAPTER_VII'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Maclin rarely discussed Larry’s private affairs with
-him, but he controlled them, nevertheless, indirectly.
-His hold on Larry was subtle and far-reaching. It
-had its beginning in the old college days when the older man
-discovered that the younger could be manipulated, by flattery
-and cheap tricks, into abject servitude. Larry was not as
-keen-witted as Maclin, but he had a superficial cleverness; a
-lack of moral fibre and a certain talent that, properly controlled,
-offered no end of possibility.</p>
-<p>So Maclin affixed himself to young Rivers in the days before
-the doctor’s death; he and Larry had often drifted apart
-but came together again like steel responding to the same
-magnet. While apparently intimate with Rivers, Maclin
-never permitted him to pass a given line, and this restriction
-often chafed Larry’s pride and egotism; still, he dared not
-rebel, for there were things in his past that had best be forgotten,
-or at least not referred to.</p>
-<p>When Maclin had discovered the old, deserted mines and
-bought them, apparently Larry was included in the sale.
-Maclin sought to be friendly with Mary-Clare when he first
-came to King’s Forest; but failing in that direction, he
-shrugged his shoulders and made light of the matter. He
-never pushed his advantage nor forgave a slight.</p>
-<p>“Never force a woman,” he confided to Larry at that
-juncture, “that is, if she is independent.”</p>
-<p>“What you mean, independent?” Larry knew what he
-meant very well; knew the full significance of it. He fretted
-at it every time his desires clashed with Mary-Clare’s. If he,
-not she, owned the yellow house; if she were obliged to take
-what he chose to give her, how different their lives might have
-been!</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></div>
-<p>Larry was thinking of all this as he made his way to the
-mines after denying that he had taken the letters. Those
-letters lay snugly hid under his shirt––he had a use for them.
-He could feel them as he walked along; they seemed to be
-feeding a fire that was slowly igniting.</p>
-<p>Larry was going now to Maclin with all barriers removed.
-His suspicious mind had accepted the coarsest interpretation
-of Mary-Clare’s declaration of independence. Maclin’s hints
-were, to him, established facts. There could be but one
-possible explanation for her act after long, dull years of acceptance.</p>
-<p>“Well,” Larry puffed and panted, “there is always a way
-to get the upper hand of a woman and, I reckon, Maclin,
-when he’s free to speak out, can catch a fool woman and a
-sneaking man, who is on no fair business, unless I miss <i>my</i>
-guess.” Larry grunted the words out and stumbled along.
-“First and last,” he went on, “there’s just two ways to deal
-with women. Break ’em or let them break themselves.”</p>
-<p>Larry’s idea now was to let Mary-Clare break herself with
-the Forest as audience. He wasn’t going to do anything.
-No, not he! Living outside his home would set tongues
-wagging. All right, let Mary-Clare stop their wagging.</p>
-<p>There was always, with Larry, this feeling of hot impotence
-when he retreated from Mary-Clare. For so vital and high-strung
-a woman, Mary-Clare could at critical moments be
-absolutely negative, to all appearances. Where another
-might show weakness or violence, she seemed to close all the
-windows and doors of her being, leaving her attacker in the
-outer darkness with nothing to strike at; no ear to assail.
-It was maddening to one of Larry’s type.</p>
-<p>So had Mary-Clare just now done. After asking him about
-the letters, she had withdrawn, but in the isolation where
-Larry was left he could almost hear the terrific truths he
-guiltily knew he deserved, hurled at him, but which his wife
-did not utter. Well, two could play at her game.</p>
-<p>And in this mood he reached Maclin; accepted a cigar and
-stretched his feet toward the fire in his owner’s office.</p>
-<p>Maclin was in a humanly soothing mood. He fairly
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span>
-crooned over Larry and could tell to a nicety the workings of
-his mind.</p>
-<p>He puffed and puffed at his enormous cigar; he was almost
-hidden from sight in the smoke but his words oozed forth as
-if they were cutting through a soft, thick substance.</p>
-<p>“Now, Larry,” he said; “don’t make a mistake. Some
-women don’t have weak spots, they have knots––weak ends
-tied together, so to speak. The cold, calculating breed––and
-your wife, no offence intended, is mighty chilly––can’t
-be broken, as you intimate, but they can be untied and”––Maclin
-was pleased with his picturesque figures of speech––“left
-dangling.”</p>
-<p>This was amusing. Both men guffawed.</p>
-<p>“Do you know, Rivers”––Maclin suddenly relapsed into
-seriousness––“it was a darned funny thing that a girl like your
-wife should fall into your open mouth, marry you off-hand,
-as one might say. Mighty funny, when you come to think
-of it, that your old man should let her––knowing all he knew
-and seeming to set such a store by the girl.”</p>
-<p>Larry winced and felt the lash on his back. So long had
-that lash hung unused that the stroke now made him cringe.</p>
-<p>“No use harking back to that, Maclin,” he said: “some
-things ain’t common property, you know, even between you
-and me. We agreed to that.”</p>
-<p>“Yes?” the word came softly. Was it apologetic or
-threatening?</p>
-<p>There was a pause. Then Maclin unbent.</p>
-<p>“Larry,” he began, tossing his cigar aside, “you haven’t
-ever given me full credit, my boy, for what I’ve tried to do for
-you. See here, old man, I have got you out of more than one
-fix, haven’t I?”</p>
-<p>Larry looked back––the way was not a pleasant one.</p>
-<p>“Yes,” he admitted, “yes, you have, Maclin.”</p>
-<p>“I know you often get fussed, Rivers, about what you term
-my <i>using</i> you in business, but I swear to you that in the end
-you’ll think different about that. I’ve got to work under
-cover myself to a certain extent. I’m not my own master.
-But this I can say––I’m willing to be a part of a big thing.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span>
-When the public <i>is</i> taken into our confidence, we’ll all feel
-repaid. Can you––do you catch on, Larry?”</p>
-<p>“It’s like catching on to something in the dark,” Larry
-muttered.</p>
-<p>“Well, that’s something,” Maclin said cheerfully. “Something
-to hold to in the dark isn’t to be sneered at.”</p>
-<p>“Depends upon what it is!” Apparently Larry was in a
-difficult mood. Maclin tried a new course.</p>
-<p>“It’s one thing having a friend in the dark, old man, and
-another having an enemy. I suppose that’s what you mean.
-Well, have I been much of an enemy to you?”</p>
-<p>“I just told you what I think about that.” Larry misinterpreted
-Maclin’s manner and took advantage.</p>
-<p>“Larry, I’m going to give you something to chew on because
-I <i>am</i> your friend and because I want you to trust me,
-even in the dark. The fellow Northrup–––”</p>
-<p>Larry started as if an electric spark had touched him.
-Maclin appeared not to notice.</p>
-<p>“––is on our tracks, but he mustn’t suspect that we have
-sensed it.” The words were ill-chosen. Having any one on
-his tracks was a significant phrase that left an ugly fear in
-Larry’s mind.</p>
-<p>“What tracks?” he asked suspiciously.</p>
-<p>“Our inventions.” Maclin showed no nervous dread.
-“These inventions, big as they are, old man, are devilish
-simple. That’s why we have to lie low. Any really keen
-chap with the right slant could steal them from under our
-noses. That’s why I like to get foreigners in here––these
-Dutchies don’t smell around. Give them work to do, and
-they do it and ask no questions; the others snoop. Now this
-Northrup is here for a purpose.”</p>
-<p>“You know that for a fact, Maclin?”</p>
-<p>“Sure, I know it.” Maclin was a man who believed in
-holding all the cards and discarding at his leisure; he always
-played a slow game. “I know his kind, but I’m going to let
-him hang himself. Now see here, Rivers, you better take me
-into your confidence––I may be able to fix you up. What’s
-wrong between you and your wife?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></div>
-<p>This plunge sent Larry to the wall. When a slow man
-does make a drive, he does deadly work.</p>
-<p>“Well, then”––Larry looked sullen––“I’ve left the house
-and mean to stay out until Mary-Clare comes to her
-senses!”</p>
-<p>“All right, old man. I rather smelled this out. I only
-wanted to make sure. It’s this Northrup, eh? Now, Rivers,
-I could send you off on a trip but it would be the same old
-story. I hate to kick you when you’re down, but I will say
-this, your wife doesn’t look like one mourning without hope
-when you’re away, and with this Northrup chap on the spot,
-needing entertainment while he works his game, I’m thinking
-you better stay right where you are! You can, maybe, untie
-the knot, old chap. Give her and this Northrup all the
-chance they want, and if you leave ’em alone, I guess the
-Forest will smoke ’em out.”</p>
-<p>Maclin came nearer to being jubilant than Rivers had ever
-seen him. The sight was heartening, but still something in
-Larry tempered his enthusiasm. He had been able, in the
-past, to exclude Mary-Clare from the inner sanctuary of
-Maclin’s private ideals, and he hated now to betray her into
-his clutches. Maclin was devilishly keen under that slow,
-sluggish manner of his and he hastened, now, to say:</p>
-<p>“Don’t get a wrong slant on me, old man. I’m only aiming
-for the good of us all, not the undoing. I want to show
-this fellow Northrup up to your wife as well as to others.
-Then she’ll know her friends from her foes. Naturally a
-woman feels flattered by attentions from a man like this
-stranger, but if she sees how he’s taken the Heathcotes in and
-how he’s used her while he was boring underground, she’ll
-flare up and know the meaning of real friends. Some women
-have to be <i>shown</i>!”</p>
-<p>By this time Larry suspected that much had gone on during
-his absence that Maclin had not confided to him. He was
-thoroughly aroused.</p>
-<p>“Now see here, Rivers!” Maclin drew his chair closer and
-laid his hand on Larry’s arm––he gloated over the trouble in
-the eyes holding his with dumb questioning. “It’s coming
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span>
-out all right. We’re in early and we’ve got the best seats––only
-keep them guessing; guessing! Larry, your wife goes––down
-to the Point a lot––goes missionarying, you know.
-Well, this Northrup is tramping around in the woods skirting
-the Point.”</p>
-<p>Just here Larry started and looked as if something definite
-had come to him. Had he not seen Northrup that very day
-in the woods?</p>
-<p>“Now there’s an empty shack on the Point, Rivers––some
-old squatter has died. I want you to get that shack somehow
-or another. It ought to be easy, since they say your
-wife owns the place; it’s your business to <i>get</i> it and then watch
-out and keep your mouth shut. You’ve got to live somewhere
-while you can’t live decent at home. ’Tisn’t likely
-your wife, having slammed the door of her home on you, will
-oust you from that hovel on the Point––your being there will
-work both ways––she won’t dare to take a step.”</p>
-<p>Larry drew a sigh, a heavy one, and began to understand.
-He saw more than Maclin could see.</p>
-<p>“She hasn’t turned me out,” he muttered. “I came out.”</p>
-<p>“Let her explain that, Rivers. See? She can’t do it while
-she’s gallivanting with this here Northrup.”</p>
-<p>Larry saw the possibilities from Maclin’s standpoint, but
-he saw Mary-Clare’s smile and that uplifted head. He was
-overwhelmed again by the sense of impotence.</p>
-<p>“Give a woman a free rein, Rivers, she’ll shy, sooner or
-later.” Maclin was gaining assurance as he saw Larry’s discomfort.
-“That’s what keeps women from getting on––they
-shy! When all’s said, a tight rein is a woman’s best good,
-but some women have to learn that.”</p>
-<p>Something in Larry burned hot and resentful, but whether
-it was because of Maclin or Mary-Clare he could not tell, so
-he kept still.</p>
-<p>“Let’s turn in, anyway, for to-night, old boy.” Maclin’s
-voice sounded paternal. “To-morrow is to-morrow and
-you’ll feel able to tackle the job after a night’s sleep.”</p>
-<p>So they turned in and it was the afternoon of the next day
-when Larry took his walk to the Point.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></div>
-<p>Just as he started forth Maclin gave him two or three
-suggestions.</p>
-<p>“I’d offer to hire the shanty,” he said. “That will put you
-in a safe position, no matter how they look at it. An old
-woman by the name of Peneluna thinks she owns it. There’s
-an old codger down there, too, Twombley they call him––he’s
-smart as the devil, but you can’t tell which way he may leap.
-Try him out. Get him to take sides with you if you can.”</p>
-<p>“I remember Twombley,” Larry said. “Dad used to get
-a lot of fun out of him in the old days. I haven’t been on the
-Point since I was a boy.”</p>
-<p>“It’s a good thing you never troubled the Point, Rivers.
-They’ll be more stirred by you now.”</p>
-<p>“Maybe they’ll kick me out.”</p>
-<p>“Never fear!” Maclin reassured him. “Not if you show
-good money and play up to your old dad. He had everyone
-eating out of his hand, all right.”</p>
-<p>So Larry, none too sure of himself, but more cheerful than
-he had been, set forth.</p>
-<p>Now there is one thing about the poor, wherever you find
-them––they live out of doors when the weather permits.
-Given sunshine and soft air, they promptly turn their backs
-on the sordid dens they call home and take to the open. The
-day that Larry went to the Point was warm and lovely, and
-all the Pointers, or nearly all of them, were in evidence.</p>
-<p>Jan-an was sweeping the steps of Peneluna’s doorway,
-sweeping them viciously, sending the dust flying. She was
-working off her state of mind produced by the recent funeral
-of old Philander. She was spiritually inarticulate, but her
-gropings were expressed in service to them she loved and in
-violence to them she hated. As she swept she was cleaning
-for Peneluna, and at the same time, sweeping to the winds of
-heaven the memory of the dreadful minister who had said
-such fearsome things about the dead who couldn’t talk back.
-The man had made Mary-Clare cry as she sat holding Peneluna’s
-hard, cold hand. Jan-an knew how hard and cold it
-was, for she had held the other in decent sympathy.</p>
-<p>Among the tin cans and ash heaps the children of the
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span>
-Point were playing. One inspired girl had decked a mound
-of wreckage and garbage with some glittering goldenrod and
-was calling her mates to come and see the “heaven” she had
-made.</p>
-<p>Larry laughed at this and muttered: “Made it in hell, eh,
-kid?”</p>
-<p>The child scowled at him.</p>
-<p>Twombley was sitting in his doorway watching what was
-going on. He was a gaunt, sharp-eyed, sharp-nosed, and
-sharp-tongued man. He was the laziest man on the Point,
-but with all the earmarks of the cleverest.</p>
-<p>“Well, Twombley, how are you?”</p>
-<p>Twombley spat and took Larry out of the pigeonhole of his
-memory––labelled and priced; Twombley had not thought
-of him in years, as a definite individual. He was Mary-Clare’s
-husband; a drifter; a tool of Maclin. As such he was
-negligible.</p>
-<p>“Feeling same as I look,” he said at last. He was ready
-to appraise the man before him.</p>
-<p>“Bad nut,” was what he thought, but diluted his sentiments
-because of the relationship to the old doctor and Mary-Clare.
-Twombley, like everyone else, had a shrine in his
-memory––rather a musty, shabby one, to be sure, but it held
-its own sacredly. Doctor Rivers and all that belonged to
-him were safely niched there––even this son, the husband of
-Mary-Clare about whom the Forest held its tongue because
-he was the son of the old doctor.</p>
-<p>“Old Sniff’s popped, I hear.” Larry, now that he chose to
-be friendly, endeavoured to fit his language to his hearer’s
-level. “Have a cigar, Twombley?”</p>
-<p>“I’ll keep to my pipe.” The old man’s face was expressionless.
-“If you don’t get a taste for what you can’t afford
-you don’t ruin it for what you can. Yes, looks as if Sniff
-was dead. They’ve buried him, at any rate.”</p>
-<p>“Who’s got his place?”</p>
-<p>“Peneluna Sniff.”</p>
-<p>“Was he married?” Floating in Rivers’s mind was an old
-story, but it floated too fast for him to catch it.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></div>
-<p>“She went through the marriage service. That fixes it,
-don’t it?” Twombley puffed loudly.</p>
-<p>“I suppose it does, but I kind of recall that there was a
-quarrel between them.”</p>
-<p>“Ain’t that a proof that they was married?” Twombley’s
-eyes twinkled through the slits of lids––he always squinted
-his eyes close when he wanted to go slow. Larry laughed.</p>
-<p>“Didn’t Peneluna Sniff, or whatever her name is, live in a
-house by herself?” he asked. He was puzzled.</p>
-<p>“She sure did. Your old man was a powerful understander
-of human nater. A few feet ’twixt married folks, he uster
-say, often saves the day.”</p>
-<p>“Well, who’s got her house?”</p>
-<p>“She’s got it.”</p>
-<p>“Empty?”</p>
-<p>“I guess the same truck’s in it that always was. I ain’t
-seen any moving out.”</p>
-<p>“Is Mrs. Sniff at home?”</p>
-<p>“How do you suppose I know, young man? These ain’t
-calling hours on the Point.”</p>
-<p>“Well, they’re business hours, all right, Twombley. See
-here, my friend, I’m going to hire that house of Mrs. Sniff if I
-can.”</p>
-<p>Twombley’s slits came close together.</p>
-<p>“Yes?” was all he vouchsafed.</p>
-<p>“Yes. And I wish you’d pass the word along, my friend.”</p>
-<p>“I don’t pass nothing!” Twombley interrupted. “I take
-all I kin git. I make use of what I can. The rest, I chuck.”</p>
-<p>“Well, have it your own way, but I’m your friend, Twombley,
-and the friend of your neighbours. I cannot say more
-now––but you’ll all believe it some day.”</p>
-<p>“Maclin standing back of yer, young feller?”</p>
-<p>“Yes. And that’s where you’ve made another bad guess,
-Twombley. Maclin’s your friend, only he isn’t free to speak
-out just now.”</p>
-<p>“Gosh! we ain’t eager for him to speak. The stiller he is
-the better we like it.”</p>
-<p>“He knows that. He’s given up––he is going to see what
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span>
-I can make you feel––I’m one of you, you know that, Twombley.”</p>
-<p>“Never would have guessed it, son!” Twombley leered.</p>
-<p>“Well, my wife’s always been your friend––what’s the
-difference? I’ve been on my job; she’s been on hers––it’s all
-the same, only now I’m going to prove it!”</p>
-<p>“Gosh! you’ll be a shock to Maclin all right.”</p>
-<p>“No, I won’t, Twombley. You’re wrong about him.
-He’s meant right, but not being one of us he’s bungled, he
-knows it now. He’s listened to me at last.”</p>
-<p>Larry could be a most important-appearing person when
-there was no one to prick his little bubble. Twombley eyed
-his visitor calmly.</p>
-<p>“Funny thing, life is,” he ruminated, seeming to forget
-Larry’s presence. “Yer get to thinking you’re running down
-hill on a greased plank, and sudden––a nail catches yer
-breeches and yer stop in time to see where yer was going!”</p>
-<p>“What then, Twombley?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! nothing. Only as long as yer breeches hold and the
-nail don’t come out, yer keep on looking!”</p>
-<p>Again Twombley spat. Then, seeing his guest rising, he
-asked with great dignity:</p>
-<p>“Going, young sir?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, over to Mrs. Sniff’s. And if we are neighbours,
-Twombley, let us be friends. My father had a liking for you,
-I remember.”</p>
-<p>“I’m not forgetting that, young sir.”</p>
-<p>When Larry reached Mrs. Sniff’s, Jan-an was still riotously
-sweeping the memories of the funeral away. She turned
-and looked at Larry. Then, leaning on her broom, she continued
-to stare.</p>
-<p>“Well, what in all possessed got yer down here?” asked
-the girl, her face stiffening.</p>
-<p>“Where’s Mrs. Sniff?” Larry asked. He always resented
-Jan-an, on general principles. She got in his way too often.
-When she was out of sight he never thought of her, but her
-vacant stare and monotonous drawl were offensive to him.</p>
-<p>He had once suggested that she be confined somewhere.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span>
-“You never can tell about her kind,” he had said; he had a
-superstitious fear of her.</p>
-<p>“What, shut the poor child from her freedom?” Aunt
-Polly had asked him, “just because we cannot tell? Lordy!
-Larry Rivers, there wouldn’t be many people running around
-loose if we applied that rule to them.”</p>
-<p>There were some turns that conversation took that sent
-Larry into sudden silences––this had been one. He had
-never referred to Jan-an’s treatment after that, but he always
-resented her.</p>
-<p>Jan-an continued to stare at him.</p>
-<p>“There ain’t no Mrs. Sniff” she said finally. “What’s
-ailin’ folks around here?”</p>
-<p>“Well, where’s Miss Peneluna?” Larry ventured, thinking
-back to the old title of his boyhood days.</p>
-<p>“Setting!” Jan-an returned to her sweeping and Larry
-stepped aside.</p>
-<p>“I want to see her,” he said angrily. “Get out of the
-way.”</p>
-<p>“She ain’t no great sight, and I’m cleaning up!” Jan-an
-scowled and her energy suggested that Larry might soon be
-included among the things she was getting rid of.</p>
-<p>“See here”––Larry’s eyes darkened––“if you don’t stand
-aside–––”</p>
-<p>But at this juncture Peneluna loomed in the doorway.
-She regarded Larry with a tightening of the mouth muscles.
-Inwardly she thought of him as a bad son of a good father, but
-intuitions were not proofs and because Doctor Rivers had
-been good, and Mary-Clare was always to be considered, the
-old woman kept her feelings to herself.</p>
-<p>She was still in her rusty black, the rakish bonnet set awry
-on her head.</p>
-<p>“Come in!” she said quietly. “And you, Jan-an, you
-trundle over to my old place and clean up.”</p>
-<p>Larry went inside and sat down in the chair nearest the
-door. The neatness and order of the room struck even his
-indifferent eyes, so unexpected was it on the Point.</p>
-<p>“Well?” Peneluna looked at her visitor coolly. Larry did
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span>
-not speak at once––he was going to get the house next door; he
-must have it and he did not want to make any mistakes with
-the grim, silent woman near him. He was not considering
-the truth, but he was selecting the best lies that occurred
-to him; the ones most likely to appeal to his future landlady.</p>
-<p>“Miss Peneluna,” he began finally, but the stiff lips interrupted
-him:</p>
-<p>“<i>Mrs. Sniff</i>.”</p>
-<p>“Good Lord! Mrs. Sniff, then. You see, I didn’t know you
-were married.”</p>
-<p>“Didn’t you? You might not know everything that goes
-on. You don’t trouble us much. Your goings and comings
-leave us strangers.”</p>
-<p>Larry did not reply. He was manufacturing tears, and
-presently, to Peneluna’s amazement, they glistened on his
-cheeks.</p>
-<p>“I wonder”––Larry’s voice trembled––“I wonder if I can
-speak openly to you, Mrs.––Mrs. Sniff? You were in my
-father’s house; he trusted you. I do not seem to have any
-one but you at this crisis.”</p>
-<p>Peneluna sneezed. She had a terrible habit of sneezing
-at will––it was positively shocking.</p>
-<p>“I guess there ain’t any reason for you not speaking out
-your ideas to me,” she said cautiously. “I ain’t much of a
-fount of wisdom, but I ain’t a babbling brook, neither.”</p>
-<p>She was thinking that it would be safer to handle Rivers
-than to let others use him, and she knew something of the
-trouble at the yellow house. Jan-an had regaled her with
-some rare tidbits.</p>
-<p>“Peneluna, Mary-Clare and I have had some words; I’ve
-left home.”</p>
-<p>There was no answer to this. Larry moistened his lips
-and went on:</p>
-<p>“Perhaps Mary-Clare has told you?”</p>
-<p>“No, she ain’t blabbed none.”</p>
-<p>This was disconcerting.</p>
-<p>“She wouldn’t, and I am not going to, either. It’s just a
-misunderstanding, Mrs. Sniff. I could go away and let it
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span>
-rest there, but I fear I’ve been away too much and things
-have got snarled. Mary-Clare doesn’t rightly see things.”</p>
-<p>“Yes she does, Larry Rivers! She’s terrible seeing.”
-Peneluna’s eyes flashed.</p>
-<p>“All right then, Mrs. Sniff. <i>I want her to see!</i> I want her
-to see me here, looking after her interests. I cannot explain;
-you’ll all know soon enough. Danger’s threatening and I’m
-going to be on the spot! You’ve all got a wrong line on Maclin,
-so he’s side-stepped and listened to me at last; I’m going
-to show up this man Northrup who is hanging round. I want
-to hire your house, Mrs. Sniff, and live on here until–––”</p>
-<p>Peneluna sneezed lustily; it made Larry wince.</p>
-<p>“Until Mary-Clare turns you out?” she asked harshly.
-“And gets talked about for doing it––or lets you stay on reflecting
-upon her what can’t tell her side? Larry Rivers, you
-always was a thorn in your good father’s side and I reckon
-you’ve been one in Mary-Clare’s.”</p>
-<p>Larry winced again and recalled sharply the old vacations
-and this woman’s silent attitude toward him. It all came
-back clearly. He could always cajole Aunt Polly Heathcote,
-but Peneluna had explained her attitude toward him in the
-past by briefly stating that she “internally and eternally
-hated boys.”</p>
-<p>“You’re hard on me, Mrs. Sniff. You’ll be sorry some
-day.”</p>
-<p>“Then I’ll be sorry!” Peneluna sneezed.</p>
-<p>Presently her mood, however, changed. She regarded
-Larry with new interest.</p>
-<p>“How much will you give me for my place?” Peneluna
-leaned forward suddenly and quite took Larry off his guard.
-He had succeeded so unexpectedly that it had the effect of
-shock.</p>
-<p>“Five dollars a month, Mrs. Sniff.”</p>
-<p>“I’m wanting ten.”</p>
-<p>This was a staggering demand.</p>
-<p>“How bad does he want it?” Peneluna was thinking.</p>
-<p>“How far had I best give in?” Larry estimated.</p>
-<p>“Make it seven,” he ventured.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></div>
-<p>“Seven and then three dollars a week more if I cook and
-serve for you.”</p>
-<p>Larry had overlooked this very important item.</p>
-<p>“All right!” he agreed. “When can I come?”</p>
-<p>“Right off.” Peneluna felt that she must get him under
-her eye as soon as possible. She moved to the door.</p>
-<p>“You’ll make it straight with Mary-Clare?”</p>
-<p>Larry was following the rigid form out into the gathering
-dark––a storm was rising; the bell on the distant island was
-ringing gleefully like a wicked little imp set free.</p>
-<p>“I’ll tell her that you’re here and that she best let you
-stay on, if that’s what you mean.” Peneluna led the way
-over the well-worn path she had often trod before. “And,
-Larry Rivers, I don’t rightly know as I’m doing fair and
-square, but look at it as you will, it’s better me than another
-if anything is wrong. I served yer good father and I set a
-store by yer wife and child––and I want to hang hold of you
-all. I’ve let you have yer way down here, but I don’t want
-any ructions and I ain’t going to have Maclin’s crowd hinting
-and defiling anybody.”</p>
-<p>“I’ll never forget this, Mrs. Sniff.” In the gathering
-gloom, behind Peneluna’s striding form, Larry’s voice almost
-broke again and undoubtedly the tears were on his cheeks.
-“Some day, when you know all, you’ll understand.”</p>
-<p>“I’m a good setter and waiter, Larry Rivers, and as to
-understanding, that is as it may be. I can only see just so
-far! I can’t turn my back on the old doctor’s son nor Mary-Clare’s
-husband but I don’t want any tricks. You better not
-forget that! There’s a bed in yonder.” The two had
-entered the house next door. Jan-an had done good work.
-The place was in order and a fire burned in the stove. “I’ll
-fetch food later.” With this Peneluna, followed by Jan-an,
-a trifle more vague than usual, left the house.</p>
-<p>The rain was already falling and the wind rising––it was
-the haunted wind; the bell sounded in the distance sharply.
-Jan-an paused in the gathering darkness and spoke tremblingly:</p>
-<p>“What’s a-going on?” she asked. Peneluna turned and laid
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span>
-her hand on the girl’s shoulder; her face softened––but Jan-an
-could not see that.</p>
-<p>“Child”––the old voice fell to a whisper––“I ain’t going to
-expect too much of yer––God Almighty made yer out of a
-skimpy pattern, I know, but what He did give yer can be
-helped along by using it for them yer love. Child, watch
-there!”</p>
-<p>A long crooked forefinger pointed to the shack, the windows
-of which were already darkened––for Larry had drawn the
-shades!</p>
-<p>“Watch early and late there! Keep your mouth shut,
-except to me. Jan-an, I can trust yer?”</p>
-<p>The girl was growing nervous.</p>
-<p>“Yes’m,” she blurted suddenly and then fell to weeping.
-“I keep feelin’ things like wings a-touching of me,” she
-muttered. “I hate the feelin’. When nothing ain’t happened
-ever, what’s the reason it has ter begin now?”</p>
-<p>It was nearly midnight when Peneluna sat down by her
-fireside to think. She had cooked a meal for Larry and
-carried it to him; she had soothed and fed Jan-an and put
-her to bed on a cot near the bed upon which old Philander
-Sniff had once rested, and now Peneluna, with Sniff’s old Bible
-on her knees, felt safe to think and read, and it seemed as if
-the wings Jan-an had sensed were touching her! The book
-was marked at passages that had appealed to the old man.
-Often, after Mary-Clare had read to him and left, thinking
-that she had made no impression, the trembling, gnarled hand
-had pencilled the words to be reread in lonely moments.</p>
-<p>Peneluna had never read the Bible from choice; indeed,
-her education had been so limited as to be negligible, but
-lately these pencilled marks had become tremendously
-significant to her. She was able, somehow, to follow Philander
-Sniff closely, catching sight of him, now and again, in an
-illumined way guided by the Bible verses. It was like the
-blind leading the blind, to be sure, and often it seemed a blind
-trail, but occasionally Peneluna could pause and take a long
-breath while she beheld the vision that must have helped her
-friend upon his isolated way.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></div>
-<p>To-night, however, she was tired and puzzled and worried.
-She kept reverting to Larry: her eyes only lighted on the
-printed words before her; her thoughts drifted.</p>
-<p>What had been going on in the Forest? Why was the
-storm breaking?</p>
-<p>But suddenly a verse more heavily marked than the others
-stayed her:</p>
-<blockquote>
-<p>And a highway shall be there, and a way and it shall be called the
-way of holiness. The wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err
-therein.</p>
-</blockquote>
-<p>Over and over Peneluna read and pondered; more and more
-she puzzled.</p>
-<p>“Land o’ love!” she muttered at last. “Now these here
-words mean something particular. Seems like they must
-get into me with their meaning if I hold to ’em long enough.
-Lord! I don’t see how folks can enjoy religion when you
-have to swallow it without tasting it.”</p>
-<p>But so powerful is suggestion through words, that presently
-the old woman became hypnotized by them. They
-sprang out at her like flashes––one by one. “Highway”––she
-could grasp that. “A way and it shall be called”––these
-words ran into each other but––the “way” held. “The
-wayfarer”––well! that was easy; all folks taking to the highway
-were wayfarers––“though fools shall not err therein.”</p>
-<p>Peneluna, without realizing it, was on The Highway over
-which all pass, living, seeing, feeling, and storing up experience.
-In old Philander’s quiet memory-haunted room she
-was pausing and looking back; groping forward––understanding
-as she had never understood before!</p>
-<p>At times, catching the meaning of what the present held,
-her old face quivered as a child’s does that is lost, and she
-would <i>think back</i>, holding to some word or look that gave her
-courage again to fix her eyes ahead.</p>
-<p>“So! so!” she would nod and mutter. “So! so!” It was
-like meeting others on The Highway, greeting them, and then
-going on alone!</p>
-<p>That was the hurt of it all––she was alone. If only there
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span>
-had been someone to hold her hand, to help her when she
-stumbled, but no! she was like a creature in a land of shadowy
-ghosts. Ghosts whom she knew; who knew her, but they
-could not linger long with her.</p>
-<p>More than the others, Philander persisted, but perhaps
-that was because of the pencilled words. They were guide-posts
-he had left for her. And strangest of all, this passing
-to and fro on The Highway seemed to concern Larry Rivers
-most of all. Larry, who, during all the years, had meant
-nothing more to King’s Forest than that he was the old
-doctor’s son, Mary-Clare’s husband, and Maclin’s secret
-employee.</p>
-<p>Larry, asleep in the shack next door, had taken on new
-proportions. He meant, for the first time, to Peneluna, a
-person to whom she owed something by virtue of knowledge.
-Knowledge! What really did she know? How did she
-know it? She did not question––she accepted and became
-responsible in a deep and grateful manner. She must remember
-about Larry. Remember all she could––it would help
-her now.</p>
-<p>The trouble, Peneluna knew, began with Larry’s mother.
-Larry’s mother had wrecked the old doctor’s life; had driven
-him to King’s Forest. No one had ever told Peneluna this––but
-she knew it. It did not matter what that woman had
-done, she had hurt a man cruelly. Once the old doctor had
-said to Peneluna––it came sharply back, now, like a call from
-a wayfarer:</p>
-<p>“Miss Pen, it is because of such women as you and Aunt
-Polly that men <i>can</i> keep their faith.”</p>
-<p>That was when Larry was desperately ill and Polly Heathcote
-and Peneluna were nursing him––he was a little boy then,
-home on a vacation. It was because of the woman that
-neither of them had ever known that they tried to mother
-the boy––but Larry was difficult, he had queer streaks.
-Again Peneluna looked back, back to some of the difficult
-streaks.</p>
-<p>Once Larry had stolen! He had gone, too, when quite a
-child, to the tavern! He had tasted the liquor, made the
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span>
-men laugh! The old doctor had been in a sad state at that
-time and Larry had been sent to school.</p>
-<p>After that, well, Peneluna could not recall Larry distinctly
-for many years. She knew the old doctor clung to him
-passionately; went occasionally to see him, came back
-troubled; came back looking older each time and depending
-more upon Mary-Clare, whose love and devotion could
-smooth the sadness from his face.</p>
-<p>Then that night, the marriage night of Mary-Clare! Peneluna
-had been near the old doctor when Larry bent to catch
-the distorted words that were but whispered. She knew,
-she seemed always to have known, that Larry had lied; he
-had <i>not</i> understood anything.</p>
-<p>Peneluna had tried to interfere, but she was always fumbling;
-she could patiently wait, but action, with her, was
-slow.</p>
-<p>And then Maclin! Since Maclin came and bought the
-mines <i>and</i> Larry––oh! what did it all mean? Had things
-been slumbering, needing only a touch?</p>
-<p>And who was this man at the inn? Was he the Touch?
-What was going to happen in this dull, sluggish life of King’s
-Forest?</p>
-<p>The night was growing old, old! Peneluna, too, was old
-and tired. The Highway was fraught with terrors for her;
-the ghosts frightened her. They were trying to make her
-understand what she must <i>do</i>, now that they had shown her
-The Way. She must keep the old doctor’s son from Maclin
-if she could and from the stranger at the inn, if she had need.
-If trouble came she must defend her own.</p>
-<p>The weary woman nodded; her eyes closed; the Book
-slipped from her lap and lay like a “light unto her feet.”
-She had, somehow, got an understanding of Larry Rivers:
-she believed that through his “difficult streaks” Maclin had
-got a hold upon him; was using him now for evil ends. It
-was for her, for all who loved the old doctor, to shield, at any
-cost, the doctor’s son. That Larry was unworthy did not
-weigh with Peneluna. Where she gave, she gave with abandon.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_VIII' id='CHAPTER_VIII'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Aunt Polly came into the living-room of the inn
-noiselessly, but Peter, at the fireside, opened his
-eyes. Nothing could have driven him to bed earlier,
-but he appeared to have been sleeping for hours.</p>
-<p>Polly’s glasses adorned the top of her head. This was
-significant. When she had arrived at any definite conclusion
-she pushed her spectacles away as though her physical
-vision and her spiritual were one and the same.</p>
-<p>“Time, Polly?” Peter yawned.</p>
-<p>“Going on to ’leven.”</p>
-<p>“He come in?”</p>
-<p>Full well Peter knew that he had not!</p>
-<p>“No, Peter, and his evening meal is drying up in the oven––I
-had creamed oysters, too. Creamed oysters are his
-specials.”</p>
-<p>“Scandalous, your goings on with this young man!”
-Peter sat up and stretched. Then he smiled at his sister.</p>
-<p>“Well, Peter, all my life I’ve had to take snatches and
-scraps out of other folks’ lives when I could get them; and
-I declare I’ve managed to patch together a real Lady’s Delight-pattern
-sort of quilt to huddle under when I’m cold
-and tired.”</p>
-<p>“Tired now, Polly?”</p>
-<p>“Not exactly tired, brother, but sort of rigid. Feel as
-if I was braced for something. I’ve often had that feeling.”</p>
-<p>“Women! women!” muttered Peter, and threw on another
-log.</p>
-<p>“What you suppose has happened to keep our young feller
-from the––the oysters, eh?”</p>
-<p>“I’m not accounting for folks or things these days, Peter.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span>
-I’m just keeping my eyes and ears open. Jan-an makes me
-uneasy!” This came like a mild explosion.</p>
-<p>“What’s she up to?” Peter sniffed.</p>
-<p>“Land! the poor soul is like the barometer you set such
-store by. Everything looking clear and peaceful and then
-suddenlike up she gets, as she did an hour ago, and grabs her
-truck and sets out for Mary-Clare’s like she was summoned.
-Just saying she had to! These are queer times, brother.
-I ain’t easy in my mind.”</p>
-<p>“If Jan-an doesn’t calm down,” Peter muttered, “she
-may have to be put somewhere, as Larry Rivers once suggested.
-Larry hasn’t many earmarks of his pa––but he
-may have a sense about human ailments.”</p>
-<p>“Think shame of yourself, Peter Heathcote, to let anything
-Larry Rivers says disturb your natural good feelings.
-Where could we send Jan-an if we wanted to?” Peter declined
-to reply and Aunt Polly went on: “Larry isn’t living
-with Mary-Clare, Peter!” she added. This was a more
-significant explosion. Peter turned and his hair seemed to
-spring an inch higher around his red, puffy face.</p>
-<p>“Where is he living?” he asked. When deeply stirred,
-Peter went slow and warily.</p>
-<p>“He’s hired Peneluna’s old shack.”</p>
-<p>Peter digested this; but found it chaff.</p>
-<p>“You got this from Jan-an?”</p>
-<p>“I got it from her and from Peneluna. Peter, Peneluna
-looks and acts like one of them queer sort of ancient bodies
-what used to sit on altars or something, and make remarks
-that no one was expected to differ from. She just dropped
-in this morning and said that Larry Rivers had taken her
-shack; was paying for it, too.”</p>
-<p>“Has, or is going to?” Peter was giving himself time to
-think.</p>
-<p>“Has!” Aunt Polly was pulling her cushions into the
-cavities of her tired little body.</p>
-<p>“Damn funny!” muttered Peter and added another log.
-The heat was growing ferocious. Then, as he eyed his sister:
-“Better turn in, Polly. You look scrunched.” To look
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span>
-“scrunched” was to look desperately exhausted. “No use
-wearing yourself out for––for folks,” he added with a tenderness
-in his voice that always brought a peculiar smile to
-Polly’s eyes.</p>
-<p>“I don’t see as there is anything else much, brother, to
-wear one’s self out for.”</p>
-<p>“Why frazzle yourself for anything?”</p>
-<p>“Why shouldn’t I? What should I be keeping myself for,
-Peter? Surely not for my own satisfaction. No. I always
-hold if folks want me, then I’m particularly pleased to be had.
-As to frazzling, seems like we only frazzle just <i>so</i> far, then a
-stitch holds and we get our breath.”</p>
-<p>In this mood Polly worried Peter deeply. He could not
-keep from looking ahead––he avoided that usually––to a
-time when the little nest at the far end of the sofa would be
-empty; when the click of knitting needles would sound no
-more in the beautiful old room.</p>
-<p>“There’s me!” he whispered at length like a half-ashamed
-but frightened boy.</p>
-<p>Polly drew her glasses down and gave him a long, straight
-look full of a deep and abiding love.</p>
-<p>“You’re the stitch, Peter my man,” she whispered back as
-if fearing someone might hear, “always the saving stitch.
-And take this to bed with you, brother: the frazzling isn’t
-half so dangerous as dry rot, or moth eating holes in you.
-Queer, but I was getting to think of myself as laid on the
-shelf before Brace drifted in, and when I do that I get old-acting
-and stiff-jointed. But I’ve noticed that it’s the same
-with folks as it is with the world, when they begin to flatten
-down, then the good Lord drops something into them to
-make ’em sorter rise. No need to flatten down until you’re
-dead. Feeling tired is healthy and proper––not feeling at
-all is being finished. So now, Peter, you just go along to
-bed. I always have felt that a man hates to be set up for,
-but he can overlook a woman doing it; he sets it down to her
-general foolishness, but Brace would just naturally get edgy
-if he found us both up.”</p>
-<p>Peter came clumsily across the room and stood over the
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span>
-small creature on the sofa. He wanted to kiss her. Instead,
-he said gruffly:</p>
-<p>“See that the fire’s banked, Polly. Looks as if I’d laid
-on a powerful lot of wood without thinking.” Then he
-laughed and went on: “You’re durned comical, Polly. What
-you said about the Lord putting yeast into folks and the
-world <i>is</i> comical.”</p>
-<p>“I didn’t say yeast, Peter Heathcote.”</p>
-<p>“Well, yer meant yeast.”</p>
-<p>“No, I didn’t mean yeast. I just meant something like
-Brace was talking about to-day.”</p>
-<p>“What was it?” Peter stood round and solid with the firelight
-ruddily upon him.</p>
-<p>“He said that the fighting overseas ain’t properly a war,
-but a general upheaval of things that have got to come to the
-top and be skimmed off. We ain’t ever looked at it that
-way.” Polly resorted to familiar similes when deeply affected.</p>
-<p>“I guess all wars is that.” Peter looked serious. He
-rarely spoke of the trouble that seemed far, far from his
-quiet, detached life, but lately he had shaken his head over
-it in a new way. “But God ain’t meaning for us to take
-sides, Polly. It’s like family troubles. You don’t understand
-them, and you better keep out. Just think of our good
-German friends and neighbours. We can’t go back on them
-just ’cause their kin across the seas have taken to fighting.
-Our Germans have, so to speak, married in our family, and we
-must stand by ’em.” Peter was voicing his unrest. Polly
-saw the trouble in his face.</p>
-<p>“Of course, brother, and I only meant that lately so many
-things are stirring in the Forest that it seems more like the
-Forest wasn’t a scrap set off by itself. I seem to have lots of
-scraps floating in my mind lately––things I’ve heard, and all
-are taking on meaning now. I remember someone saying,
-I guess it was the Bishop, that in a drop of ocean water, there
-was all that went into the ocean’s making, except size. That
-didn’t mean anything until Brace set me to––to turning
-over in my mind, and, Peter, it seems terrible sensible now.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span>
-All the big, big world is just little scraps of King’s Forests
-welded all together and every King’s Forest is a drop of the
-world.”</p>
-<p>Peter looked gravely troubled as men often do when their
-women take to thinking on their own lines. Usually the
-heedless man dismisses the matter with but small respect,
-but Peter was not that kind. All his life he had depended
-upon his sister’s “vision” as he called it. He might laugh
-and tease her, but he never took a definite step without
-reaching out to her.</p>
-<p>“A man must plant his foot solid on the path he knows,”
-he often said, “but that don’t hinder him from lifting his
-eyes to the sky.” And it was through Aunt Polly’s eyes that
-Peter caught his view of skies.</p>
-<p>“I don’t exactly like Brace digging down into things so
-much.” Peter gave a troubled sigh. “Some things ain’t any
-use when they are dug up.”</p>
-<p>“But some things <i>are</i>, brother. We must know.”</p>
-<p>“Well, by gosh!” Peter began to sway toward the door like
-a heavily freighted side-wheeler. “I get to feeling sometimes
-as if I’d kicked over a hornet’s nest and wasn’t certain
-whether it was a last year’s one or this year’s. In one case
-you can hold your ground, in the other you best take to your
-heels. Well, I’m going to leave you, Polly, for your date
-with your young man. Don’t forget the fire and don’t set
-up too long.”</p>
-<p>Left to herself, Polly neatly folded her knitting and stuck
-the glistening needles through it. She folded her small,
-shrivelled hands and a radiant smile touched her old face.</p>
-<p>Oh! the luxury of <i>daring</i> to sit up for a man. The excitement
-of the adventure! And while she waited and brooded,
-Polly was thinking as she had never done until recently. All
-her life she believed that she had thought, and to suddenly
-find, as she had lately, that her conclusions were either wrong
-or confused made her humble.</p>
-<p>Now there was Mary-Clare! Why, from her birth, Mary-Clare
-had been an open book! Poor Polly shook her head.
-An open book? Well, if so she did not know the language
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
-in which that book was written, for Mary-Clare was troubling
-her now deeply.</p>
-<p>And Larry? Larry had suddenly come into focus, and
-Maclin, and Northrup. They all seemed reeling around her;
-all united, but in deadly peril of being flung apart.</p>
-<p>It was all too much for Aunt Polly and she unrolled her
-knitting and set the needles to their accustomed task. Eventually
-Mary-Clare would come to the inn and simply tell
-her story––full well Polly knew that. It was Mary-Clare’s
-way to keep silent until necessity for silence was past and then
-calmly take those she loved into her confidence. But there
-were disturbing things going on. Aunt Polly could not blind
-herself to them.</p>
-<p>At this moment Northrup’s step sounded outside. He
-came hastily, but making little noise.</p>
-<p>“What’s up?” he asked, starting back at the sight of Aunt
-Polly.</p>
-<p>“Just me, son. Your dinner is scorched to nothing, but
-I wanted to tell you where the cookie jar is.”</p>
-<p>Northrup came over to the sofa and sat down.</p>
-<p>“You deep and opaque female,” he said, throwing his arm
-over the little bent shoulders. “Own up. It isn’t cookies,
-it’s a switch. What have I done? Out with it.”</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly laughed softly.</p>
-<p>“It’s neither cookies nor switches when you come down to
-it,” she chuckled. “It’s just waiting and not knowing
-why.”</p>
-<p>Northrup leaned back against the sofa and said quietly:</p>
-<p>“Guessing about me, Aunt Polly?”</p>
-<p>“Guessing about everything, son. Just when I thought I
-was nearing port, where I ought to be at my age, I find myself
-all at sea.”</p>
-<p>“Same with me, Aunt Polly. We’re part of the whole
-upheaval, and take it from me, some of us are going to find
-ourselves high and dry by and by and some of us will go under.
-We don’t understand it; we can’t; but we’ve got to try to––and
-that’s the very devil. Aunt Polly, I’ve been on the
-Point, talking to some of the folks down there––there is a
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span>
-fellow called Twombley, odd cuss. He told me he’s tried to
-earn his living, but found people too particular.”</p>
-<p>“Earn his living, huh!” Polly tried to look indignant.
-“He’s a scamp, and old Doctor Rivers was the ruination of
-him. The old doctor used to quote Scripture in a scandalous
-way. He said since we have the poor always with us, it is
-up to us to have a place for them where they can be comfortable.
-Terrible doctrine, I say, but that was what the old
-doctor kept the Point for and it was after Twombley tried
-to earn his living––the scamp!” Northrup saw that he
-had diverted Aunt Polly and gladly let her talk on.</p>
-<p>“Doctor had an old horse as was just pleading to be put an
-end to, but the doctor couldn’t make his mind up to it and
-Twombley finally undertook to settle the matter with a shot-gun,
-up back in the hills. Twombley never missed the bull’s-eye––a
-terrible hand with a gun he was. The doctor gave
-him two dollars for the job and looked real sick the day he
-heard that shot. Well, less than a week after Twombley
-came to the doctor and says as how he heard that a horse
-has to be buried and that if it isn’t the owner gets fined
-twenty-five dollars, and he says he’ll bury the carcass for five
-dollars. He explained how the horse, lying flat, was powerful
-sizable, and it would be a stern job to get it under ground.
-Well, old doctor gave the five dollars and Twombley took
-to the woods.</p>
-<p>“It was a matter of a month, maybe, when Twombley came
-back, and soon after old Philander Sniff appeared with a horse
-and cart, and Doctor Rivers, as soon as he set his eyes on the
-horse, sent for Twombley. Do you know, son, that scamp
-actually figured it out with the doctor as to the cost of food
-and care he’d been put to in order to get that shot-and-buried-horse
-into shape for selling! He’d sold him for ten
-dollars and expenses were twelve.”</p>
-<p>Northrup leaned back and laughed until the quiet house
-reëchoed with his mirth.</p>
-<p>“Son, son!” cautioned Polly, shaking and dim-eyed,
-“it’s going on to midnight. We can’t carouse like this. But
-land! it is uplifting to have a talk when you ought to be
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span>
-sleeping. Well, the old doctor bought the Point just then
-and bought Twombley a new gun. Folks as couldn’t earn
-their keep proper naturally drifted to the Point––God’s
-living acre, as the doctor called it.”</p>
-<p>Northrup rose and stretched his arms and then bent, as
-Peter had done, to Aunt Polly. But unlike Peter he kissed
-the small yearning face upraised to his.</p>
-<p>“It must be pleasant––being your mother,” Polly whispered.</p>
-<p>“It’s pleasant having you acting as substitute,” Northrup
-replied. “Shall I bank the fire, Aunt Polly?”</p>
-<p>“No, son, there’s something else I must see to before I
-turn in. Aren’t you going for the cookies?”</p>
-<p>“Yes’m. Going to munch them in bed.” And tiptoeing
-away in the most orthodox manner Northrup left Aunt
-Polly alone.</p>
-<p>Why was she staying up? She had no clear idea but she
-was restless, sleepless, and bed, to her, was no comfort
-under such conditions. However, since she had stated that
-she had something to do, she must find it. She went to a desk
-in the farther end of the room, and took from it her house-keeping
-book. She would balance that and surprise Peter!
-Peter always <i>was</i> so surprised when she did. She bought
-the book to her nest on the sofa and set to work.</p>
-<p>Debit and credit. Figures, figures, figures. And then,
-mistily, words took their places. Names.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare: Larry.</p>
-<p>Larry: Northrup.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare! It was funny. The columns danced and
-giddily wobbled––and at the foot there was only––Mary-Clare!
-Mary-Clare was troubling the dear old soul.</p>
-<p>Then, startled by the falling of the book to the floor, Aunt
-Polly opened her eyes and gazed into the face of Mary-Clare
-standing before her!</p>
-<p>The girl had a wind-swept look, physically and spiritually.
-Her hair was loose about her face, her eyes like stars, and she
-was smiling.</p>
-<p>“Oh! you dear thing,” she whispered, bending to recover
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
-the book, “adding and subtracting when the whole world
-sleeps. Isn’t it a wonderful feeling to have the night to
-yourself?”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare crouched down before the red blazing logs;
-her coat and hat fell from her and she stretched her hands
-out to the heat with a little shiver of luxurious content.</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly knew the girl’s mood and left her to herself.
-She had come to tell something but must tell it in her own
-way. To question, to intrude a thought, would only tend
-to confuse and distract her, so Polly took up her knitting
-and nodded cheerfully. She had a feeling that all along she
-had been waiting for Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>“I suppose big things like being born and dying are very
-simple when they come. It is the mistaking the big and little
-things that makes us all so uncertain. Aunt Polly, Larry
-has left me.” The start had been made!</p>
-<p>“Yes; Peneluna told us. He hasn’t gone far.” Aunt
-Polly knitted on while Mary-Clare gave a little laugh.</p>
-<p>“Oh! dearie, he was far, far away before he started for the
-Point. Land doesn’t count––it’s more than that, only I did
-not know. Isn’t it queer, Aunt Polly, now that I understand
-things, I find that marrying Larry and having the babies
-haven’t touched me at all––I never belonged to them or they
-to me––except Noreen. And it’s queer about Noreen, too,
-she will never seem part of all that.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare, her eyes fixed on the fire, was thinking aloud;
-her breath came short and quick as if she had been running.</p>
-<p>“My dear child!” Aunt Polly was shocked in spite of herself.
-“No woman can shake off her responsibilities in that
-way. Larry is your husband and you have been a mother.”</p>
-<p>“You are talking <i>words</i>, Aunt Polly, not things.” Aunt
-Polly knew that she <i>was</i> and it made her wince.</p>
-<p>“That’s the trouble with us all, Aunt Polly. Saying words
-over and over and calling them things––as if you could take
-God in!”</p>
-<p>There was no bitterness in the tones, but there was the
-weary impatience of a child that had been too often denied
-the truth.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></div>
-<p>“No matter what people say and say, underneath there is
-<i>truth</i>, Aunt Polly, and it’s up to us to find it.”</p>
-<p>“And you think you are competent”––Aunt Polly, reflecting
-that she was using <i>words</i>, used them doubtfully––“you
-think you are competent to know what <i>is</i> truth and to act
-upon it––to the extent of sending your husband out of his
-home?”</p>
-<p>If a small love-bird could look and sound fierce it would
-resemble Aunt Polly at that moment. Mary-Clare turned
-from the contemplation of the fire and fixed her deep eyes
-upon the troubled old face.</p>
-<p>“You dear!” she whispered and then laughed.</p>
-<p>Presently, the fire again holding her, Mary-Clare went on:</p>
-<p>“I think I must try to find truth with my woman-brain,
-Aunt Polly. That was what my doctor-daddy always insisted
-upon. He wouldn’t even let me take <i>his</i> word when
-it came to anything that meant a lot to me.”</p>
-<p>“He wanted you to marry Larry!”</p>
-<p>This was a telling stroke and a long silence followed.
-Then:</p>
-<p>“I wonder, Aunt Polly, I wonder.”</p>
-<p>“Do you doubt, child?”</p>
-<p>“I don’t know, but even if he did he was sick and so––so
-tired, and Larry always worried him. I know very surely
-that if my doctor were here, and knew everything, he’d say
-harder than ever: ‘Use your woman-mind.’ And I’m going
-to! Why, Aunt Polly, I haven’t driven Larry away from his
-home. I meant to make it a better place, once I set the
-wrong aside. But you see, he wanted it just <i>his</i> way and
-nothing else would do.”</p>
-<p>The dear old face that had confronted life vicariously
-flushed gently; but the young face that had set itself to the
-stern facts of life showed neither weakness nor doubt.</p>
-<p>“It has come to me, dear”––Mary-Clare now turned and
-came close to Aunt Polly, resting her folded arms on the
-thin little knees––“It has come to me, dear, that things
-are not fixed right and when they are not, it won’t do any
-good to keep on acting as if they were. Being married to
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span>
-Larry could never make it right for me to do what seems to
-me wrong. And oh! Aunt Polly, I wish that I could make
-you understand. Do try to understand, dear, there is a
-sacred place in my soul, and I just do believe it is in all women’s
-souls if they dared to say so––that no one, not even a
-husband, has a right to claim. It is hers and––God’s. But
-men don’t know, and some don’t care––and they just rush
-along and take and take, never counting what it may cost––and
-they make laws to help them when they might fail without,
-and––well, Aunt Polly, it is hard to stand all alone in
-the world. I think the really happy women are those who
-don’t know what I mean, or those that have loved enough,
-loved a man true enough––to share that sacred place with him––the
-place he ought not ask for or have a law for. I know
-you do not understand, Aunt Polly. I did not myself until
-Peneluna told me.”</p>
-<p>At this Aunt Polly braced against the pillows as if they
-were rocks.</p>
-<p>“Peneluna!” she gasped.</p>
-<p>“Let me tell you, Aunt Polly. It is such a wonderful thing.”</p>
-<p>As she might have spoken to Noreen, so Mary-Clare spoke
-now to the woman who had only viewed life as Moses had
-the Promised Land, from her high mount.</p>
-<p>“And so, can you not see, dear Aunt Polly, it isn’t a
-thing that laws can touch; it isn’t being good or bad––it is too
-big a Thing to call by name. Peneluna could starve and still
-keep it. She could be lonely and serve, but she <i>knew</i>. I
-don’t love Larry, I cannot help it. All my life I am going
-to keep all of the promise I can, Aunt Polly, but I’m going to––to
-keep myself, too! A woman can give a man a good deal––but
-she can’t give him some things if she tries to! Look
-at the women; some of them in the Forest. Aunt Polly,
-if marriage means what they look like–––” Mary-Clare
-shuddered.</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly had suddenly grown tender and far-seeing.
-She let go the sounding words that Church and State had
-taught her.</p>
-<p>“Little girl,” she said, and all her motherhood rushed
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span>
-forward to seize, as it had ever done, those “scraps” of
-others’ lives, “suppose the time should come when there
-would be in your life another––someone besides Larry?
-Why has all this come so sudden to you?”</p>
-<p>Northrup seemed to loom in the room, just beyond the
-fire’s glow. Her fear was taking shape.</p>
-<p>“Oh! dearie, I might then ask Larry to release me from
-my promise. My doctor used to say one could do that, but
-if he would not, why, then––I’d keep my bargain as far as I
-could. But–––” and here Mary-Clare rose and flung
-her arms above her head. The action was jubilant, majestic.
-“Oh! the wonder of it all; to be free to be myself and prove
-what I <i>think</i> is right without having to take another’s idea of
-it. I’ll listen; I’ll try to understand and be patient––but
-it cannot be wrong, Aunt Polly, the thing I’ve done––since
-this great feeling of wings has come to me instead of heavy
-feet! Why, dear, I want something more than––than the
-things women <i>think</i> are theirs. We don’t know what is ours
-until we try.”</p>
-<p>“And fail, my child?” Aunt Polly was crying.</p>
-<p>“Yes; and fail sometimes and be hurt––but paying and
-going on.”</p>
-<p>“And leaving your man behind you?”</p>
-<p>“Aunt Polly”––Mary-Clare looked down upon the kind,
-quivering face––“a woman’s man cannot be left behind.
-He’ll be beside her somehow. If she stays back, as I’ve
-tried to do, she wouldn’t be his woman! That’s the dreadful
-trouble with Larry and me. But, dearie, it isn’t always
-a man in a woman’s life.”</p>
-<p>“But the long, lonely way, child!” Polly was retracing her
-own denied womanhood.</p>
-<p>“It need not be lonely, dear, when we women find––other
-things. They will count. They must.”</p>
-<p>“What other things, Mary-Clare?”</p>
-<p>“That’s what we must be finding out, dear. Love; the
-man: some day they will be the glory, making everything
-more splendid, but not––the all. I think I should have died,
-Aunt Polly, had I kept on.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></div>
-<p>Like an inspired young oracle, Mary-Clare spoke and
-then dropped again by the fire.</p>
-<p>“I’ve somehow learned all this,” she whispered, “in my
-Place up on the hill. It just came to me, little by little, until
-it convinced me. I had to tell Larry the truth.”</p>
-<p>“Mary-Clare, I do not know; I don’t feel able to put it
-into words, but I do believe you’re going to make sad trouble
-for yourself, child. Such a thing as this you have done has
-never been done before in the Forest.”</p>
-<p>“Maybe.”</p>
-<p>A door upstairs slammed loudly and both women started
-nervously.</p>
-<p>“I must tell Peter to fix the latch of the attic door to-morrow,”
-Aunt Polly said, relieved to be back on good,
-plain, solid ground. “The attic winders are raised and the
-wind’s rising. It will be slam, slam all night, unless–––”
-she rose quickly.</p>
-<p>“Just a minute, Aunt Polly, I’m so tired. Please let me
-lie here on the couch and rest for an hour and then I’ll slip
-home.”</p>
-<p>“Let me put you to bed properly, child. You look suddenly
-beat flat. That’s the way with women. They get to
-thinking they’ve got wings when they ain’t, child, they
-ain’t. You’re making a terrible break in your life, child.
-Terrible.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was arranging the couch.</p>
-<p>“Come, dear,” she wheedled, “you tuck me up––so! I’ll
-bank the fire when I go and leave everything safe. A little
-rest and then to-morrow!––well, you’ll see that I have wings,
-Aunt Polly; they are only tired now––for they are new wings!
-I know that it must seem all madness, but it had to come.”</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly pulled the soft covering over the huddled form––only
-the pale, wistful face was presently to be seen; the
-great, haunting eyes made Aunt Polly catch her breath.
-She bent and kissed the forehead.</p>
-<p>“Poor, reaching-out child!” she whispered.</p>
-<p>“For something that is <i>there</i>, Aunt Polly.”</p>
-<p>“God knows!”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></div>
-<p>“Of course He does. That’s why He gave us the––reach.
-Good-night. Oh! how I love you, Aunt Polly. Good-night!”</p>
-<p>It was Northrup’s door that had slammed shut. Aunt
-Polly went above, secured the innocent attic door, and
-then pattered down to her bedroom near Peter’s, feeling
-that her house, at least, was safe.</p>
-<p>It was silent at last. Northrup, in his dark chamber, lay
-awake and––ashamed, though heaven was his witness that
-his sin was not one he had planned. Aunt Polly had been
-on his mind. He hated to have her down there alone.
-Her sitting up for him had touched and––disturbed him;
-he had left his door ajar.</p>
-<p>“I’ll listen for a few minutes and if she doesn’t go to bed,
-I’ll go down and shake her,” he concluded, and then promptly
-went to sleep and was awakened by voices. Low, earnest
-voices, but he heard no words and was sleepily confused.
-If he thought anything, he thought Peter had been doing
-what was needed to be done––driving Polly to bed!</p>
-<p>And then Northrup <i>did</i> hear words. A word here; a
-word there. He <i>knew</i> things he had no right to know––he
-was awake at last, conscientiously, as well as physically.
-He got up and slammed the door!</p>
-<p>But he could not go to sleep. He felt hot and cold; mean
-and indignant––but above all else, tremendously excited.
-He lay still a little longer and then opened his door in time
-to hear that “good-night, good-night”; and presently
-Aunt Polly’s raid on the unoffending attic door at the other
-end of the corridor and her pattering feet on their way, at
-last, to her bedchamber.</p>
-<p>“She’s forgot to bank the fire.” Northrup could see the
-glow from his post and remembered Uncle Peter’s carefulness.
-“I’ll run down and make things safe and lock the
-door.” Northrup still held his respect for doors.</p>
-<p>In heavy gown and soft slippers he noiselessly descended.
-The living-room at the far end was dark; the fire glowed at
-the other, dangerously, and one threatening log had rolled
-menacingly to the fore.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div>
-<p>Bent upon quick action Northrup silently crossed the
-floor, grasped the long poker and pushed the blazing wood
-back past the safety line and held it there.</p>
-<p>His face burned, but there was a hypnotic lure in that bed
-of red coals. All that he had just heard––a disjointed and
-rather dramatic revealment––was having a peculiar effect
-upon him. He had become aware of some important facts
-that accounted for things, such as Rivers’s appearance on
-the Point. He had attributed that advent to Maclin’s secret
-business; but it was, evidently, quite different.</p>
-<p>What had occurred in the yellow house before the final
-break? Northrup’s imagination came to the fore fully
-equipped. Northrup was a man of the herd––at least he
-had been, until lately. He knew the tracks of the herd and
-its laws and codes.</p>
-<p>“The brute!” he muttered under his breath; “and that
-kind of a girl, too. Nothing is too fine for some devils to
-appropriate and––smirch. Poor little girl!”</p>
-<p>And then Northrup recalled Mary-Clare as he had seen her
-that day as she emerged from the woods to meet him and
-her child. The glory of Peneluna’s story was in her soul,
-the autumn sunlight on her face. That lovely, smiling,
-untouched face of hers! Again and again that memory of
-her held his fancy.</p>
-<p>“The cursed brute––hasn’t <i>got</i> her, thank God. She’s out
-of the trap.”</p>
-<p>And, all unconsciously, while this moral indignation had
-its way, Northrup was drawing nearer to Mary-Clare; understanding
-her, appropriating her! God knew he meant no
-wrong. After all she had suffered he wasn’t going to mess
-her life more––but he’d somehow make up to her what she’d
-a perfect right to. All men were not low and bestial. He
-had a duty––he would be above the touch of idle chatter; he
-would take a hand in the game!</p>
-<p>And just then Northrup, controlled by the force of attraction,
-turned his head and looked at the face of Mary-Clare
-upon the couch near him!</p>
-<p>In all his life Northrup had never looked upon the face of
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span>
-a sleeping woman, and it stirred him deeply. He became as
-rigid as marble; the heat beat upon him as it might have upon
-stone. And then––as such wild things do occur, his old,
-familiar dream came to him; he seemed <i>in</i> the dream. He
-had at last opened one of those closed doors and was seeing
-what the secret room held! He was part of the dream as he
-was of his book in the making.</p>
-<p>He breathed lightly; he did not move––but he was overcome
-by waves of emotion that had never before even
-lapped his feet.</p>
-<p>At that instant Mary-Clare’s eyes opened. For a moment
-they held his; then she turned, sighed, and he believed that
-she had not really awakened.</p>
-<p>Northrup rose stiffly and made his way to his room.</p>
-<p>“She was asleep!” he fiercely thought until he was safe
-behind his locked door!</p>
-<p>“Was she?” He had to face that in the silence of the
-hours after. “I’ll know when I next meet her.” This was
-almost a groan.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_IX' id='CHAPTER_IX'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Kathryn Morris, as the days of Northrup’s
-absence stretched into weeks, grew more and more
-restless. She began to do some serious thinking, and
-while this developed her mentally, the growing pains hurt
-and she became twisted.</p>
-<p>Heretofore she had been borne along on a peaceful current.
-She was young and pretty and believed that everyone saw
-her as she wanted them to see her––a charming, an unusually
-charming girl.</p>
-<p>People had always responded to her slightest whim, but
-suddenly her own particular quarry had eluded her; did not
-even pine for her; was able to keep silent while he left her
-and his mother to think what they chose.</p>
-<p>At this moment Kathryn placed herself beside Helen
-Northrup as a timid débutante shrinks beside her chaperon.</p>
-<p>“And that old beast”––Kathryn in the privacy of her
-bedchamber could speak quite openly to herself––“that
-old beast, Doctor Manly, suggested that at forty I might be
-fat if–––” Well, it didn’t matter about the “if.” Kathryn
-did a bit of mental arithmetic, using her fingers to aid her.
-What was the difference between twenty-four and forty?
-The difference seemed terrifyingly <i>little</i>. “A fat forty!
-Oh, good Lord!”</p>
-<p>Kathryn was in bed and it was nine-thirty in the morning!
-She sprang out and looked at herself in the mirror.</p>
-<p>“Well, my body hasn’t found it out yet!” she whispered,
-and her pretty white teeth showed complacently.</p>
-<p>Then she sat down in a deep chair and took account of
-stock. That “fat-forty” was a mere panic. She would
-not think of it––but it loomed, nevertheless.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></div>
-<p>Of course, for the time being, there was Sandy Arnold on
-the crest of one of his financial waves.</p>
-<p>Kathryn was level-headed enough not to lose sight of receding
-waves but then, on the other hand, the crest of a
-receding wave was better than to be left on the sands––fat
-and forty! And Northrup was displaying dangerous traits.
-A distinct chill shook Kathryn.</p>
-<p>She turned her thought to Northrup. Northrup had
-seemed safe. He belonged to all that was familiar to her.
-He would be famous some day––that she might interfere with
-this never occurred to the girl. She simply saw herself in a
-gorgeous studio pouring tea or dancing, and all the people
-paying court to her while knowing that they ought to be
-paying it to Northrup.</p>
-<p>“But he always gets a grubby hole to work in.” Kathryn
-fidgeted. “I daresay he is working now in some smudgy
-old place.”</p>
-<p>But this thought did not last. She could insist upon the
-studio. A man owes his wife <i>something</i> if he will have his
-way about his job.</p>
-<p>Just at this point a tap on the door brought a frown to
-Kathryn’s smooth forehead.</p>
-<p>“Oh! come in,” she called peevishly.</p>
-<p>A drab-coloured woman of middle age entered. She was
-one of the individuals so grateful for being noticed at all
-that her cheerfulness was a constant reproach. She had
-been selected by Kathryn’s father to act as housekeeper
-and chaperon. As the former she was a gratifying success;
-as the latter, a joke and one to be eliminated as much as
-possible.</p>
-<p>For the first time in years Kathryn regarded her aunt now
-with interest.</p>
-<p>“Aunt Anna”––Kathryn never indulged in graceful tact
-with her relations––“Aunt Anna, how old <i>are</i> you?”</p>
-<p>Anna Morris coloured, flinched, but smiled coyly.</p>
-<p>“Forty-two, dear, but it was only yesterday that my dressmaker
-said that I should not tell that. It is not necessary,
-you know.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span></div>
-<p>“I suppose not!” Kathryn was regarding the fatness of
-the woman who was calmly setting the disorderly room to
-rights. “Aunt Anna, why didn’t you marry?”</p>
-<p>The dull, fat face was turned away. Anna Morris never
-lost sight of the fact that when Kathryn married she would
-face a stern situation unless Kathryn proved kinder than
-any one had any reason to expect her to be. So her remarks
-were guarded.</p>
-<p>“Oh! my dear, my dear, <i>what</i> a question. Well, to be
-quite frank, I discovered at eighteen that some men could
-stir my senses”––Anna Morris tittered––“and some
-couldn’t. At twenty-two the only man who could stir me
-was horribly poor; the other stirring ones had been snapped
-up. You see, there was no one to help me with my affairs.
-Your father never <i>did</i> understand. The only thing he was
-keen about was making money enough to marry your mother.
-Then you were born and your mother died and––well, there
-was nothing for me to do but come here and help him out.
-One has plain duties. I always had sense enough”––Anna
-Morris moved about heavily––“to realize that senses do not
-stir when poverty pinches, and this house <i>was</i> comfortable;
-and duty <i>can</i> fill in chinks. I always contend”––the dull
-eyes now confronted Kathryn––“that there <i>is</i> a dangerous
-age for men and women. If they get through that alive
-and alone––well, there is a kind of calm that comes.”</p>
-<p>“I suppose so.” Kathryn felt a sinking in the region of
-the heart. “Are you ever lonely?” she asked suddenly.
-“Ever feel that you let your own life slip when you helped
-Father and me?”</p>
-<p>Anna Morris’s lips trembled as they always did when any
-one was kind to her; but she got control of herself at once––she
-could not afford the comfort of letting herself go!</p>
-<p>“Oh, I don’t know. Yes; sometimes. But who isn’t
-lonely at times? Marriage can’t prevent that and even
-your own private life, quite your own, is bound to have some
-lonely spells. There are all kinds of husbands. Some float
-about, heaven knows where; their wives must be lonely; and
-then the settled sort––dear me! I’ve often seen women terribly
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span>
-lonely right in the rooms with their husbands. I have
-come to the conclusion that once you pass the dangerous age
-you’re as well placed one way as another. That is, if you are
-a woman.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn was looking unusually serious. While she was in
-this mood she clutched at seeming trifles and held them curiously.</p>
-<p>“What was Brace’s father like?” she suddenly asked.</p>
-<p>Anna Morris started.</p>
-<p>“Why, what ails you, Kathie?” she asked suspiciously.
-“You’ve never taken any interest before. Why should you?
-A young girl and all that––why should you?”</p>
-<p>“Tell me, Aunt Anna. I’ve often wondered.”</p>
-<p>Anna Morris sat down heavily in a chair. The older
-Northrup had once had power to stir her; was one of the men
-too poor for her to consider.</p>
-<p>“Well,” she began slowly, tremblingly, “he wasn’t companionable
-at the last, but I shall always see <i>his</i> side. Helen
-Northrup is a fine woman––I can understand how many
-take her part, but being married to her kind must seem like
-mental Mormonism. <i>She</i> calls it developing––but a man
-like Thomas Northrup married a woman because she was
-the kind he wanted and he couldn’t be expected to keep
-trace of all the kinds of women Helen Northrup ran into and––out
-of!”</p>
-<p>“I don’t know what you mean, Aunt Anna. Do talk
-sense.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn was almost excited. It was like reading what
-wasn’t intended for innocent young girls to know.</p>
-<p>“Well, first, Helen Northrup was just like all loving young
-girls, I guess––but when she didn’t find <i>all</i> she wanted, she
-took to developing, as she called it. For <i>my</i> part I believe
-when a woman finds her husband isn’t <i>all</i> she expected, she
-ought to accept her lot and make the best of it.”</p>
-<p>“And Brace’s mother started out to make her own lot? I
-see.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn nodded her head.</p>
-<p>“Well, something like that. She took to writing. Thomas
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span>
-Northrup didn’t know what ailed her and I don’t wonder.
-She should have spent herself on <i>his</i> career, not making one
-for herself. But I must say when Brace was born she stopped
-that nonsense but she evolved then into a mother!” Anna
-sniffed. “A man can share with his children, but when it
-comes to giving up everything, well!”</p>
-<p>“What did he do, Aunt Anna?”</p>
-<p>“He went away.”</p>
-<p>“With a woman?”</p>
-<p>“Yes.”</p>
-<p>“One he just met when Mrs. Northrup became a mother?”</p>
-<p>“He knew her before, but if Helen Northrup had been all
-she should have been to him–––”</p>
-<p>“I begin to see. And then?”</p>
-<p>“Well, then he died and proved how noble he was at
-heart. When he went off, Helen Northrup wouldn’t take a
-cent. She had a little of her own and she went to work and
-Brace helped when he grew older––and then when Thomas
-Northrup died he left almost all his fortune to his wife. He
-never considered her anything else. I call his a really great
-nature.” Poor Anna was in a trembling and ecstatic state.</p>
-<p>“I call him a––just what he was!” Kathryn was weary of
-the subject. “I think Brace’s mother was a fool to let him
-off so easy. I would have bled him well rather than to let
-the other woman put it all over me.”</p>
-<p>“My dear, that’s not a proper way for you to talk!” Aunt
-Anna became the chaperon. “Come, get dressed now,
-dearie. There’s the luncheon, you know.”</p>
-<p>“What luncheon?”</p>
-<p>“Why, with Mr. Arnold, my dear, and he included me, too!
-Such a sweet fellow he is, and so wise and thoughtful.”</p>
-<p>“Oh!”</p>
-<p>There had been a time when she and Sandy Arnold met
-clandestinely––it was such fun! He included Aunt Anna
-now. Why?</p>
-<p>And just then, as if it were a live and demanding thing,
-her eyes fell on Northrup’s last book. She scowled at it.
-It was a horrible book. All about dirty, smudgy people
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span>
-that you couldn’t forget and who kept springing out on you
-in the most unexpected places. At dinners and luncheons
-they often wedged in with their awful eyes fixed on your
-plate and made you choke. They probably were not true.
-And those things Brace said! Besides, if they were true,
-people like that were used to them––they had never known
-anything else!</p>
-<p>And then Brace had said some terrible things about war;
-that war going on over the sea. Of course, no one expected
-to have a war, but it was unpatriotic for any one to say what
-Brace had about those perfectly dear officers at West Point
-and––what was it he said?––oh, yes––having the blood of
-the young on one’s soul and settling horrid things, like
-money and land, with lives.</p>
-<p>At this Kathryn tossed the book aside and it fell at Anna’s
-feet. She picked it up and handled it as if it were a tender
-baby that had bumped its nose.</p>
-<p>“It must be perfectly wonderful,” she said, smoothing the
-book, “to have an autographed copy of a novel. It’s like
-having a lock of someone’s hair. Where <i>is</i> Brace, Kathryn?”</p>
-<p>This was unfortunate.</p>
-<p>“That is my business and his!” Kathryn spoke slowly.
-Her eyes slanted and her lips hardened.</p>
-<p>“My darling, I beg your pardon!” And once more Anna
-Morris was shoved into the groove where she belonged.</p>
-<p>Later that day, after the luncheon with Sandy––Anna had
-been eliminated by a master stroke that reduced her to tears
-and left Sandy a victim to Kathryn’s wiles––Kathryn called
-upon Helen Northrup.</p>
-<p>She was told by the smiling little maid to go up into the
-Workshop. This room was a pitiful attempt to lure Brace
-to work at home; in his absence Helen sat there and scribbled.
-She wrote feeble little verses with a suggestion of the real
-thing in them. Sometimes they got published because the
-suggestion caught the attention of a sympathetic publisher,
-and these small recognitions kept alive a spark that was all
-but extinguished when Helen Northrup chose, as women of
-her time did, a profession or––the woman’s legitimate sphere!</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span></div>
-<p>There had been no regret in Helen’s soul for whatever part
-she played in her own life––her son was her recompense for
-any disappointment she might have met, and he was, she devoutly
-believed, her interpreter. She loved to think in her
-quiet hours that her longings and aspirations had found expression
-in her child; she had sought, always, to consider
-his interests wisely––unselfishly, of course––and leave him
-as free to live his own life as though she were not the lonely,
-disillusioned woman that she was.</p>
-<p>She had never known how early Brace had understood the
-conditions in his home––mothers and fathers rarely do.
-Only once during his boyhood had Brace ventured upon the
-subject over which he spent many confused and silent hours.</p>
-<p>When he was fourteen he remarked, in that strained voice
-that he believed hid any emotion:</p>
-<p>“I say, Mother, a lot of fellows at our school have fathers
-and mothers who live apart––most of the fellows side with
-their mothers!”</p>
-<p>These words nearly made Helen ill. She could make no
-reply. She looked dumbly at the boy facing her with a new
-and awful revealment. She understood that he wanted her to
-<i>know</i>, wanted to comfort her; and she knew, with terrifying
-certainty, that she could not deceive him––she was at his
-mercy!</p>
-<p>She was wise enough to say nothing. But after that she
-felt his suddenly acquired strength. It was shown in his
-tenderness, his cheerfulness, his companionship, and, thank
-God! in his silence.</p>
-<p>But while Helen gloried in her boy she still was loyal to the
-traditions of marriage, and her little world never got behind
-her screen. She had divorced her husband because he
-desired it––then she went on alone. When her husband
-died away from home, his body was brought to her. It had
-been his last request and she paid all respect to it with her
-boy close beside her. And then she forgot––really, in most
-cases––the things that she had been remembering. She
-erected over her dead husband, not a stone, but a living
-<i>unreality</i>. It answered the purpose for which it was designed;
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span>
-it made it possible for her to live rather a full life,
-be a comrade to her son––a friend indeed––and to share all
-his joys and many of his confidences, and to impress upon
-him, so she trusted, that he must not sacrifice anything for
-her.</p>
-<p>Why should he, indeed? Had she not interests enough to
-occupy her? The sight of a widowed mother draining the
-life-blood from her children had always been a dreadful
-thing to Helen Northrup, and so well had she succeeded in her
-determination to leave Brace free that the subject rarely
-came into the minds of either.</p>
-<p>But Brace’s latest move had disturbed Helen not a little.
-It startled her, made her afraid, as that remark of his in his
-school days had done. Did he chafe under ties that he loved
-but found that he must flee from for awhile? Why did he
-and Kathryn not marry? Were they considering her? Was
-she blinded?</p>
-<p>Helen had been going over all this for days before the
-visit of Kathryn, and during the night preceding the call
-she had awakened in great pain; she had had the pain before
-and it had power to reduce her to cowardice. It
-seemed to dare her, while she lay and suffered, to confide in
-a physician!</p>
-<p>There was an old memory of one who had suffered and
-died from–––“Find out the truth about me!” each dart of
-fire in the nerves cried, and when the pain was over Helen
-Northrup had not dared to meet the challenge and go to
-Manly or another! At first she tried to reason with herself;
-then she compromised.</p>
-<p>“After all, it is so fleeting. I’ll rest, take better care of
-myself. I’m not so young as I was––Nature is warning me;
-it may not be the other.”</p>
-<p>Well, rest and care helped and the attacks were less frequent.
-That gave a certain amount of hope.</p>
-<p>When Kathryn entered the Workshop she found Helen
-on the couch instead of at the flat-topped desk. She looked
-very white and blue-lipped but she was smiling and happily
-glad to see her visitor. She was extremely fond of Kathryn.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span>
-Early in life she had prepared herself to accept and love any
-woman her son might choose––she would never question the
-gift he offered! But when Kathryn was offered, she was overjoyed.
-Kathryn was part of the dear, familiar life; the
-daughter of old friends. Helen Northrup felt that she was
-blessed beyond all mothers. The thing, to her, seemed so
-exactly right. That the marriage did not take place had
-hardly disturbed her. Kathryn was young, Brace was winning,
-not only a home for the girl, but honour, and there
-was always time. <i>Time</i> is such a splendid heritage of youth
-and such a rare relic of age.</p>
-<p>“Why, my dearie-dear!” exclaimed Kathryn, kneeling
-beside the couch. “What <i>is</i> it?”</p>
-<p>“Nothing, dear child; nothing more than a vicious touch
-of neuralgia.”</p>
-<p>“Have you seen Doctor Manly?” Kathryn patted the
-pillows and soothed, by her touch, the hot forehead. Kathryn
-had the gift of healing in her small, smooth hands, but
-not in her soul.</p>
-<p>She had always been jealous of the love between Brace and
-his mother. It was so unusual, so binding, so beyond her
-conception; but she could hide her feelings until by and by.</p>
-<p>“Now, dearie-dear, we <i>must</i> send for Doctor Manly. Of
-course Brace ought to know. He would never forgive us if
-he did not know. I hate to trouble you but, my dear, you
-look simply terrifyingly ill.” Like a lightning flash Kathryn’s
-nimble wits caught a possibility.</p>
-<p>Helen smiled. Then spoke slowly:</p>
-<p>“Now, my dear, when Brace comes home, I promise to see
-Doctor Manly. These attacks are severe––but they pass
-quickly and there are long periods when I am absolutely
-free from them.”</p>
-<p>“You mean, you have attacks?” Kathryn looked appalled.</p>
-<p>“Oh, yes; off and on. That fact proves how unimportant
-they are.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn was again taking stock.</p>
-<p>She believed that Brace was still at that place from which
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span>
-the letter came! She was fiendishly subject to impressions
-and suspicions.</p>
-<p>“Now if he is still there”––thoughts ran like liquid fire
-in Kathryn’s brain––“<i>why</i> does he stay? It isn’t far.” She
-had made sure of that by road maps when the letter first
-came. “I could motor out there and see!” The liquid fire
-brought colour to the girl’s face.</p>
-<p>She was dramatic, too, she could always see herself playing
-the leading parts in emotional situations. Just now, like
-more flashes of lightning, disclosing vivid scenes, she saw
-herself, prostrated by fear and anxiety for Helen Northrup,
-finding Brace, confiding in him because she dared not take
-the chances of silence and dared not disobey and go to
-Doctor Manly.</p>
-<p>Brace would be fear-filled and remorseful, would see at
-last how she, Kathryn, had his interests in mind. He
-would cling to her. Sitting close by the couch, her face
-pressed to Helen Northrup’s shoulder, Kathryn contemplated
-the alluring and passionate scenes. Brace had always lacked
-passion. She had always to hold Arnold virtuously in
-check, but Brace was able to control himself. But––and
-here the vivid pictures reeled on, familiarity had dulled
-things, long engagements were flattening––Brace would at
-last see her as she was. She’d forgive anything that might
-have happened––of course, anything <i>might</i> have happened––she,
-a woman of the world, understood.</p>
-<p>And––Kathryn was brought to a sudden halt––the reel
-spun on but there was no picture!</p>
-<p>Suppose, after all, there was nothing really to be frightened
-about in these attacks? Well, that would be found out after
-Brace had been brought home and might enhance rather
-than detract from––her divine devotion.</p>
-<p>Presently Kathryn became aware of the fact that Helen
-Northrup had been speaking while the reel reeled!</p>
-<p>“And then that escapade of his when he was only seven.”
-Helen patted the golden head beside her while her thoughts
-were back with her boy. “He was walking with me when
-suddenly he looked up; his poor little face was all twisted!
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span>
-He just said rather impishly, ‘I’m going! I am really!’ and
-he went! I was, naturally, frightened, and ran after him––then,
-when I caught sight of him, a long way ahead, I stopped
-and waited. When he thought I was not following, he waded
-right out into a puddle; he even had a scrappy fight with a
-bigger boy who contested his right to invade the puddle.
-It was so absurd. Kathryn, I actually went home; I felt
-sure Brace would find his way back and he did. I was nearly
-wild with anxiety, but I waited. He came back disgustingly
-dirty, but hilariously happy. He expected punishment.
-When none was meted out to him––he told me all about it––it
-seemed flat enough when he saw how I took it. Why, I
-never even mentioned the mud on him. He was disappointed,
-but I think he understood more than I realized. When he
-went to bed that night, he begged my pardon!”</p>
-<p>Kathryn got up and walked about the room. She was
-staging another drama. Brace was now playing in puddles––not
-such simple ones as those of his childhood. He was
-having his little fight, too, possibly; with whom?</p>
-<p>Well, how perfectly thrilling to save him!</p>
-<p>Such a girl as Kathryn has as cheap an imagination as
-any lurid factory girl, but it is kept as safely from sight as the
-contents of her vanity bag.</p>
-<p>“Kathryn, have you heard from Brace?”</p>
-<p>The girl started almost guiltily. Helen hated to ask this,
-she feared Kathryn might think her envious; but Kathryn
-rose and drew a chair to the couch.</p>
-<p>“No, dearie-dear,” she said sweetly.</p>
-<p>“So you don’t know just where he is?”</p>
-<p>“How could I know, dearie thing?”</p>
-<p>So they were not keeping things from her; shutting her out!
-Helen Northrup raised her head from the pillow.</p>
-<p>“We’re in the same boat, darling,” she said, so glad to be
-in the same boat. “Lately I’ve had a few whim-whams.”
-Helen felt she could be confidential. “I suppose I am touching
-the outer circle of old age, and before it blinds me, I’m
-going to have my say. It would be just like you and Brace
-to forget yourselves and think of me. And if I do not look out,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span>
-I’ll be taking your sacrifice and calling it by its wrong name.
-You and Brace must marry. I half believe you’ve been waiting
-for me to push you out of the nest. Well, here you go!
-Your own nest will be sacred to me, another place for me to
-go to, another interest. I’ll be having you both closer.
-Now, don’t cry, little girl. I’ve found you out and found
-myself, too!”</p>
-<p>Kathryn was shedding tears––tears of gratitude for the
-material Helen was putting at her disposal.</p>
-<p>“My dear little Kathryn! It is going to be all right, all
-right. Why, childie, when he comes home I am going to insist
-upon the wedding. I am not a young woman, really,
-though I put up a bit of a bluff––and the time isn’t very long,
-no matter how you look at it––so, darling, you and Brace
-must humour me, do the one big thing to make me happy––you
-must be married!”</p>
-<p>Kathryn looked up. The tears hung to her long lashes.</p>
-<p>“You want this?” she faltered with quivering lips.</p>
-<p>Helen believed she understood at last.</p>
-<p>“My darling!” she said tenderly, “it is the one great
-longing of my heart.”</p>
-<p>Then she dropped back on her pillow and closed her eyes
-while the pain gripped her. But the pain, for a moment,
-seemed a friend, not a foe. It might be the thing that would
-open the door––out.</p>
-<p>Helen had spoken truth as truth should be but never
-quite is, to a mother. She had taken her place in the march,
-her colours flying. But her place was the mother’s place,
-lagging in the rear.</p>
-<p>Such an effort as she had just made caused angels to weep
-over her.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_X' id='CHAPTER_X'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
-</div>
-<p>By a kind of self-hypnotism Northrup had gained his
-ends so far as drifting with the slow current of King’s
-Forest was concerned, and in his relation toward his
-book. The unrest, as to his duty in a world-wide sense,
-was lulled. Whatever of that sentiment moved him was
-focussed on Maclin who, in a persistent, vague way became a
-haunting possibility of danger almost too preposterous to be
-considered seriously. Still the possibility was worth watching.
-Maclin’s attitude toward Northrup was interesting.
-He seemed unable to ignore him, while earnestly desiring to
-do so. The fact was this: Maclin looked upon Northrup as he
-might have upon a slow-burning fuse. That he could not
-estimate the length of the fuse, nor to what it was attached,
-did not mend matters. One cannot ignore a trail of fire, and
-a guilty conscience is never a sleeping one.</p>
-<p>The people on the Point had long since come to the conclusion
-that Northrup was a trailer of Maclin, not their
-enemy. The opinion was divided as to his relations with
-Mary-Clare, but that was a different matter.</p>
-<p>“I’ll bet my last dollar,” Twombley muttered, forgetting
-that his last dollar was a thing of the past, “that this young
-feller will find out about those inventions. Inventions be
-damned! That’s what I say. There’s something going on
-at the mines that don’t spell inventions.”</p>
-<p>This was said to Peneluna who was aging under the strain
-of unaccustomed excitement.</p>
-<p>“When he lands Maclin,” she said savagely, “I’ll grab
-Larry. Larry is a fool, but from way back, Maclin is the
-sinner. Queer”––she gave a deep sigh––“how a stick muddling
-up a biling brings the scum to the surface! I declare!
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span>
-I wish we had something to grip hold of. Suspicioning your
-neighbours ain’t healthy.”</p>
-<p>Jan-an, untroubled by moral codes, was unconditionally
-on Northrup’s side. She patched her gleanings into a vivid
-conclusion and announced, much to Peneluna’s horror:</p>
-<p>“Supposin’ we are goin’ ter hell ’long of not knowin’
-where we are goin’, ain’t it a lot pleasanter than the way we
-was traipsin’ before things began to happen?”</p>
-<p>Poor Jan-an was getting her first taste of romance and
-tragedy and she was thriving on the excitement. When she
-was not watching the romance in the woods with Mary-Clare
-and Noreen, she was actively engaged in tragedy. She
-was searching for the lost letters and she did not mince
-matters in her own thoughts.</p>
-<p>“Larry stole ’em!” she had concluded from the first.
-“What’s old letters, anyway? But I’ll get those letters if I
-die for it!”</p>
-<p>She shamelessly ransacked Larry’s possessions while she
-cleaned his disorderly shack, but no letters did she find.
-She became irritable and unmoral.</p>
-<p>“Lordy!” she confided to Peneluna one day while they
-were preparing Larry’s food, “don’t yer wish, Peneluna, that
-it wasn’t evil to poison some folks’ grub?”</p>
-<p>Peneluna paused and looked at the girl with startled
-eyes.</p>
-<p>“If you talk like that,” she replied, “I’ll hustle you into
-the almshouse.” Then: “Who would you like to do that
-to?” she asked.</p>
-<p>“Oh! folks as just clutter up life for decent folks. Maclin
-and Larry.”</p>
-<p>“Now, see here, Jan-an, that kind of talk is downright
-creepy and terrible wicked. Listen to me. Are you listening?”</p>
-<p>Jan-an nodded sullenly.</p>
-<p>“I’m your best friend, child. I mean to stand by yer, so
-you just heed. There are folks as can use language like that
-and others will laugh it off, but you can’t do it. The best
-thing for you to do is to slip along out of sight and sound as
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span>
-much as yer can. If you attract attention––the Lord above
-knows what will happen; I don’t.”</p>
-<p>Jan-an was impressed.</p>
-<p>“I ain’t making them notice me,” she mumbled, “but yer
-just can’t take a joke.”</p>
-<p>Noreen and Jan-an, in those warm autumn days––and
-what an autumn it was!––often came to the little chapel
-where Northrup wrote.</p>
-<p>They knew this was forbidden; they knew that the mornings
-were to be undisturbed, but what could a man who
-loved children say to the two patient creatures crouching
-at the foot of the stone steps leading up to the church?</p>
-<p>Northrup could hear them whisper––it blended with the
-twittering of the birds––he heard Noreen’s chuckle and
-Jan-an’s warning. Occasionally a flaming maple branch
-would fall through the window on to his table; once Ginger
-was propelled through the door with a note, badly printed by
-Noreen, tied to his collar.</p>
-<p>“We’re here,” the strangely scrawled words informed
-him; “me and Jan-an. We’ve got something for you.”</p>
-<p>But Northrup held rigidly to his working hours and finally
-made an offer to his most persistent foes.</p>
-<p>“See here, you little beggars,” he said, including the gaunt
-Jan-an in this, “if you keep to the other side of the bridge,
-I’ll tell you a story, once a day.”</p>
-<p>This had been the beginning of romance to Jan-an.</p>
-<p>The story-telling, thus agreed upon, opened a new opportunity
-for meeting Mary-Clare. Quite naturally she
-shared with Noreen and Jan-an the hours of the late afternoon
-walks in the woods or, occasionally, by the fireside of
-her own home when the chilly gloaming fell early.</p>
-<p>Often Northrup, casting a hurried thought to his past,
-and then forward to the time when all this pleasure must end,
-looked thoughtful. How circumscribed those old days had
-been; how uneventful at the best! How strange the old
-ways would seem by and by, touched by the glamour of
-what he was passing through now!</p>
-<p>And, as was often the case, Manly’s words came out like
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span>
-guiding and warning flashes. The future could only be made
-safe by the present; the past––well! Northrup would not
-dwell upon that. He would keep the compact with himself.</p>
-<p>He went boldly to the yellow house when the mood seized
-him. His first encounters with Mary-Clare, after that night
-at the inn when he had watched her sleeping, had reassured
-him.</p>
-<p>“She was not awake!” he concluded. The belief made it
-possible for him to act with assurance.</p>
-<p>Peter and Polly preserved a discreet silence concerning
-affairs in the Forest. “You never can tell when a favouring
-wind will right things again,” Polly remarked. She cared
-more for Mary-Clare than anything else.</p>
-<p>“Or upset ’em,” Peter added. He had his mind fixed
-upon Maclin.</p>
-<p>“Well, brother, sailing safe, or struggling in the water, it
-won’t help matters to stir up the mud.”</p>
-<p>“No; and just having Brace hanging around like a threat
-is something. I allas did hold to them referendum and recall
-notions. Once a feller knows he ain’t the only shirt in the
-laundry, he keeps decenter. So long as Maclin scents
-Brace, he keeps to his holdings. Did yer hear how he’s
-cleaning up the Cosey Bar? He thinks maybe he’s going
-to be attacked from that quarter. Then, again, he’s been
-offering work to the men around here––and he’s letting
-out that he never understood our side of things rightly and
-that he’s listening to Larry––get that, Polly?––listening to
-Larry and letting <i>him</i> make the folks on the Point get
-on to the fact that he’s their friend. Gosh! Maclin their
-friend.”</p>
-<p>And Mary-Clare all this time mystified her friends and
-her foes. She had foes. Men, and women, too, who looked
-askance at her. The less they knew, the more they had to
-invent. The proprieties of the Forest were being outraged.
-The women who envied Mary-Clare her daring fell upon her
-first. From their own misery and disillusionment, they
-sought to defend their position; create an atmosphere of
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span>
-virtue around their barren lives, by attacking the woman
-who refused to be a martyr.</p>
-<p>“You can’t tell me,” said a downtrodden wife of one of
-Maclin’s men, “that she turned her husband out of doors
-after wheedling him out of all he should have had from his
-father, unless she meant to leave the door open for another!
-A woman only acts as she has for some man.”</p>
-<p>The women, the happy ones, drove down upon Mary-Clare
-from another quarter. The happy women are always
-first to lay down the laws for the unhappy ones. Not
-knowing, they are irresponsible. The men of the Forest
-did some laughing and side talking, but on the whole they
-denounced Mary-Clare because she was a menace to the
-Established Code.</p>
-<p>“God!” said the speaker of the Cosey Bar, “what’s coming
-to the world, anyhow? There ain’t any rest and peace nowheres,
-and when it comes to women taking to naming
-terms, I say it’s time for us to stand for our rights fierce.”</p>
-<p>Maclin had delicately and indirectly set forth Mary-Clare’s
-“terms” and the Forest was staggered.</p>
-<p>But Mary-Clare either did not hear, or the turmoil was so
-insistent that she had become used to it. She suddenly
-displayed an energy that made her former activities seem
-tame.</p>
-<p>She brought from the attic an old loom and got Aunt Polly
-to teach her to weave; she presently designed quaint patterns
-and delighted in her work. She invited several children,
-neglected little souls, to come to the yellow house and she
-taught them with Noreen. She resorted largely to the
-method the old doctor had used with her. Adapting, as she
-saw possible, her knowledge to her little group, she gave generously
-but held her peace.</p>
-<p>Northrup often had a hearty laugh after attending one of
-the “school” sessions.</p>
-<p>“It’s like tossing all kinds of feed to a flock of birds,”
-he told Aunt Polly, “and letting the little devils pick as they
-can.”</p>
-<p>“I reckon they pick only as much as their little stomachs
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span>
-can hold,” Aunt Polly replied, “and it makes <i>me</i> smile to
-notice how folks as ain’t above saying lies about Mary-Clare
-can trust their children to her teaching.”</p>
-<p>“Oh! well, lies are soon killed,” Northrup returned, but
-his smile vanished.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was often troubled by Larry’s persistence at
-the Point. She could not account for it, but she did not alter
-her own way of life. She went, occasionally, to the desolate
-Point; she rarely saw Larry, but if she did, she greeted him
-pleasantly. It was amazing to find how naturally she could
-do this. Indeed the whole situation was at the snapping
-point.</p>
-<p>“I do say,” Twombley confided to Peneluna, “it don’t seem
-nater for a woman not to grieve and fuss at such goings on.”</p>
-<p>Peneluna tossed her head and sneezed.</p>
-<p>“I ain’t ever understood,” she broke in, “why a woman
-should fuss and break herself on account of a man doing
-what he oughtn’t ter do. Let <i>him</i> do the fussing and breaking.”</p>
-<p>“She might try and save him.” Twombley, like all the
-male Forest, was stirred at what he could not understand.</p>
-<p>“Women have got their hands full of other things”––Peneluna
-sneezed again as if the dust of ages was stifling her––“and
-I do say that after a woman does save a man, she’s
-often too worn out to enjoy her savings.”</p>
-<p>And Larry, carefully dressed, living alone and to all appearances
-brave and steady, simply, according to Maclin’s
-ordering, “let out more sheet rope” in order that Mary-Clare
-might sail on to the rocks and smash herself to atoms
-before the eyes of her fellow creatures.</p>
-<p>Surely the Forest had much to cogitate upon.</p>
-<p>“There is just one ledge of rocks for her kind,” said Maclin.
-“You keep yourself clear and safe, Rivers, and watch
-the wreck.”</p>
-<p>Maclin could be most impressive at times and his conversation
-had a nautical twist that was quite effective.</p>
-<p>Northrup at this time would have been shocked beyond
-measure had any one suggested that his own attitude of mind
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span>
-resembled in the slightest degree that of Maclin, Twombley,
-and Rivers. He was too sane and decent a man to consider
-for a moment that Mary-Clare’s actions were based in the
-slightest degree upon his presence in the Forest. He knew
-that he had had nothing to do with the matter, but that was
-no reason for thinking that he might not have. Suggestion
-was enmeshing him in the disturbance.</p>
-<p>He felt that Larry was a brute. That he had the outer
-covering of respectability counted against him. Larry always
-kept his best manners for public exhibition; his inheritance
-of refinement could be tapped at any convenient hour.
-Northrup knew his type. He had not recalled his father in
-years as he did now! A man legally sustained by his interpretation
-of marriage could make a hell or a heaven of any
-woman’s life. This truism took on new significance in the
-primitive Forest.</p>
-<p>But in that Mary-Clare had had courage to escape from
-hell––and Northrup had pictured it all from memories of his
-boyhood––roused him to admiration.</p>
-<p>She was of the mettle of his mother. She might be bent
-but never broken. She was treading a path that none of her
-little world had ever trod before. Alone in the Forest she
-had taken a stand that she could not hope would be understood,
-and how superbly she was holding it!</p>
-<p>Knowing what he did, Northrup compared Mary-Clare
-with the women of his acquaintance; what one of them could
-defy their conventions as she was doing, instinctively, courageously?</p>
-<p>“But she ought not to be permitted to think all men are
-like Rivers!”</p>
-<p>This thought grew upon Northrup, and it was the first
-step, generously taken, to establish higher ideals for his sex.
-With the knowledge he had, he was in a position of safety.
-Not to be seen with Mary-Clare while the silly gossip muttered
-or whispered would be to acknowledge a reason for not
-meeting her––so he flung caution to the winds.</p>
-<p>There were nutting parties for the children––innocent
-enough, heaven knew! There were thrilling camping suppers
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span>
-on the flat ridge of the hills in order to watch the miracle of
-sunset and moonrise.</p>
-<p>No wonder Jan-an cast her lot in with those headed, so the
-whisper ran, for perdition. She had never been so nearly
-happy in her life; neither had Mary-Clare nor Noreen nor––though
-he did not own it––Northrup, himself.</p>
-<p>No wonder Maclin, and the outraged Larry, saw distinctly
-the ridge on which the wreck was to occur.</p>
-<p>But no one was taking into account that idealism in Mary-Clare
-that the old doctor had devoutly hoped would save her,
-not destroy her. Northrup began to comprehend it during
-the more intimate conversations that took place when the
-children, playing apart, left him and Mary-Clare alone.
-The wonder grew upon him and humbled him. It was
-something he had never encountered before. A philosophy
-and code built entirely upon knowledge gained from books
-and interpreted by a singular strength and purity of mind.
-It piqued Northrup; he began to test it, never estimating
-danger for himself.</p>
-<p>“Books are like people,” Mary-Clare said one day––she
-was watching Northrup build a campfire and the last bit of
-sunlight fell full upon her––“the words are the costumes.”
-She had marked the surprised look in Northrup’s eyes as she
-quoted rather a bald sentiment from an old book.</p>
-<p>“Yes, of course, and that’s sound reasoning.” For a moment
-Northrup felt as though a clear north wind were blowing
-away the dust in an overlooked corner of his mind.
-“But it’s rather staggering to find that you read French,”
-he added, for the quotation had been literally translated.
-“You do, don’t you?”</p>
-<p>“I do, a little. I’m taking it up again for Noreen.”</p>
-<p>Noreen’s name was continually being brought into focus.
-It had the effect of pushing Northrup, metaphorically, into a
-safe zone. He resented this.</p>
-<p>“She is afraid!” he thought. “Rivers has left his mark
-upon her mind, damn him!”</p>
-<p>This sentiment should have given warning, but it did
-not.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></div>
-<p>“I study nights”––Mary-Clare was speaking quite as if
-fear had no part in her thought––“French, mathematics––all
-the hard things that went in and––stuck.”</p>
-<p>“Hard things do stick, don’t they?” Northrup hated the
-pushed-aside feeling.</p>
-<p>“Terribly. But my doctor was adamant about hard
-things. He used to say that I’d learn to love chipping off the
-rough corners.” Here Mary-Clare laughed, and the sound
-set Northrup’s nerves a-tingle as the clear notes of music did.</p>
-<p>“I can see myself now, Mr. Northrup, sitting behind my
-doctor on his horse, my book flattened out against his back.
-I’d ask questions; he’d fling the answers to me. Once I
-drew the map of Italy on his blessed old shoulders with crayon
-and often French verbs ran crookedly up the seam of his
-coat, for the horse changed his gait now and then.”</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed aloud. He edged away from his isolation
-and said:</p>
-<p>“Your doctor was a remarkable man. His memory lives
-in the Forest; it’s about the most vital thing here. It and all
-that preserves it.” His eyes rested upon Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>“Yes. He was wonderful. Lately he seems more alive
-than ever. He had such simple rules of life––but they work.
-He told me so often that when a trouble or anything like
-that came, there were but two ways to meet it. If it was
-going to kill you, die at your best. If it wasn’t, get over it
-at once; never waste time––live as soon as possible.” Was
-there a note of warning in the words?</p>
-<p>“And you’re doing it?”</p>
-<p>An understanding look passed between them.</p>
-<p>“Yes, Mr. Northrup, for Noreen.”</p>
-<p>Back went Northrup to his place with a dull thud! Then
-Mary-Clare hurried to a safer subject.</p>
-<p>“I wish you would tell me about your book, Mr. Northrup.
-I have the strangest feeling about it. It seems like a new
-kind of flower growing in the Forest. I love flowers.”</p>
-<p>Northrup looked down at his companion. Her bared head,
-her musing, radiant face excited and moved him. He had
-forgotten his book.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></div>
-<p>“You’re rather like a strange growth yourself,” he said
-daringly.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare smiled gaily.</p>
-<p>“You’ll have to blame my old doctor for that,” she said.</p>
-<p>“Or bless him,” Northrup broke in.</p>
-<p>“Yes, that’s better, if it is true.”</p>
-<p>“It’s tremendously true.”</p>
-<p>“A book”––again that elusive push––“must be a great
-responsibility. Once you put your thoughts and words down
-and send them out––there you are!”</p>
-<p>“Yes. Good Lord! There you are.”</p>
-<p>“I knew that you would feel that way about it and that
-is why I would like to hear you talk of it. It’s a story, isn’t
-it?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, a story.”</p>
-<p>“You can reach further with a story.”</p>
-<p>“I suppose so. You do not have to knuckle down to
-rules. You can let your vision have a say, and your feelings.”
-Northrup, seeing that his book must play a part,
-accepted that fact.</p>
-<p>“I suppose”––Mary-Clare was looking wistfully up at
-Northrup––“all the people in your books work out what you
-believe is truth. I can always <i>feel</i> truth in a book––or the
-lack of it.”</p>
-<p>In the near distance Noreen and Jan-an were gathering
-wood. They were singing and shouting lustily.</p>
-<p>“May I sit on your log?” Northrup spoke hurriedly.</p>
-<p>“Of course,” and Mary-Clare moved a little. “The sun’s
-gone,” she went on. “It’s quite dark in the valley.”</p>
-<p>“It’s still light here––and there’s the fire.” Northrup was
-watching the face beside him.</p>
-<p>“Yes, the fire, and presently the moon rising, just over
-there.”</p>
-<p>Restraint lay between the two on the mossy log. They
-both resented it.</p>
-<p>“You know, you must know, that I’d rather have you
-share my book than any one else.” Northrup spoke almost
-roughly.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div>
-<p>He had meant to say something quite different, but anything
-would do so long as he controlled the situation.</p>
-<p>“I wonder why?” Mary-Clare kept her face turned away.</p>
-<p>“Well, you are so phenomenally keen. You know such a
-lot.”</p>
-<p>“I used to snap up everything like a hungry puppy, Uncle
-Peter often said. I suppose I do now, Mr. Northrup, but I
-only know life as a blind person does: I feel.”</p>
-<p>“That’s just it. You <i>feel</i> life. It isn’t coloured for you
-by others. You get its form, its hardness or softness, its
-fragrance or the reverse, but you fix your own colour. That’s
-why you’d be such a ripping critic. Will you let me read
-some of my book to you?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! of course. I’d be so glad and proud.”</p>
-<p>“Come, now, you’re not joking?”</p>
-<p>The large golden eyes turned slowly and rested upon
-Northrup.</p>
-<p>“I do not think I ever joke”––Mary-Clare’s words fell
-softly––“about such things. Why, it would seem like seeing a
-soul get into a body. You do not joke about that.”</p>
-<p>“You make me horribly afraid about my book. People do
-not usually take the writing of a book in just that way.”</p>
-<p>“I wish they did. You see, my doctor often said that
-books would live if they only held truth. He loved these
-words, ‘And above all else––Truth taketh away the victory!’
-I can see him now waving his arms and singing that defiantly,
-as if he were challenging the whole world. He said
-that truth was the soul of things.”</p>
-<p>“But who knows Truth?”</p>
-<p>“There is something in us that knows it. Don’t you think
-so?”</p>
-<p>“But we see it so differently.”</p>
-<p>“That does not matter, if we know it! Truth is fixed
-and sure. Isn’t that so?”</p>
-<p>“I do not know. Sometimes I think so: then––good Lord!
-that is what I’m trying to find out.”</p>
-<p>Northrup’s face grew tense.</p>
-<p>“And so am I.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div>
-<p>“All right, then, let’s go on the quest together!” Northrup
-stood up and offered his hand to Mary-Clare as if actually
-they were to start on the pilgrimage. “Where and when
-may I begin to read to you?”</p>
-<p>The children were coming nearer.</p>
-<p>“While this weather lasts, I’d love the open. Wouldn’t
-you? Logs, like this, are such perfect places.”</p>
-<p>“I thought perhaps”––Northrup looked what he dared
-not voice––“I thought perhaps in that cabin of yours we
-might be more comfortable, more undisturbed.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare smiled and shook her head.</p>
-<p>“No, I think it would be impossible. That cabin is too
-full––well, I’m sure I could not listen as I should, to you, in
-that cabin.”</p>
-<p>And so it was that the book became the medium of expression
-to Northrup and Mary-Clare. It justified that
-which might otherwise have been impossible. It drugged
-them both to any sense of actual danger. It was like a
-shield behind which they might advance and retreat unseen
-and unharmed. And if the shield ever fell for an
-unguarded moment, Northrup believed that he alone was
-vouchsafed clear vision.</p>
-<p>He grew to marvel at the simplicity and purity of Mary-Clare’s
-point of view. He knew that she must have gone
-through some gross experiences with a man like Rivers, but
-they had left her singularly untouched.</p>
-<p>But, while Northrup, believing himself shielded from the
-woman near him, permitted his imagination full play, Mary-Clare
-drew her own conclusions. She accepted Northrup
-without question as far as he personally was concerned. He
-was making her life rich and full, but he would soon pass;
-become a memory to brighten the cold, dark years ahead,
-just as the memory of the old doctor had done: would always
-do.</p>
-<p>Desperately Mary-Clare clung to this thought, and reinforced
-by it referred constantly to her own position as if to
-convince Northrup of perfect understanding of their relations.</p>
-<p>But the book! That was another matter. In that she felt
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span>
-she dared contemplate the real nature of Northrup. She believed
-he was unconsciously revealing himself, and with that
-keenness of perception that Northrup had detected, she
-threshed the false notes from the true and, while hesitating
-to express herself––for she was timid and naturally distrustful
-of herself––she was being prepared for an hour when her best
-would be demanded of her.</p>
-<p>Silently Mary-Clare would sit and listen while Northrup
-read. Without explanation, the children had been eliminated
-and, if the day was too cool to sit by the trail side, they
-would walk side by side, the crushed leaves making a soft
-carpet for their feet; the falling leaves touching them gently
-as they were brushed from their slight holdings.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare had suddenly abandoned her rough boyish
-garb. She was sweet and womanly in her plain little gown––and
-a long coat whose high collar rose around her grave face.
-She wore no hat and the light and shade did marvellous
-things to her hair. There were times when Northrup could
-not take his eyes from that shining head.</p>
-<p>“Why are you stopping?” Mary-Clare would ask at such
-lapses.</p>
-<p>“My writing is diabolical!” Northrup lied.</p>
-<p>“Oh! I’m sorry. The stops give me a jog. Go on.”</p>
-<p>And Northrup would go on!</p>
-<p>Without fully being aware of it, until the thing was done,
-Mary-Clare got vividly into the story.</p>
-<p>And Northrup was doing some good, some daring work.
-His man, born from his own doubts, aspirations, and cravings,
-was a live and often a blundering creature who could not
-be disregarded. He was safe enough, but it was the woman
-who now gave trouble.</p>
-<p>Northrup saw, with fear and trembling, that he had drawn
-her, so he devoutly believed, so close to reality that he felt
-that Mary-Clare would discover her at once and resent the
-impertinence. But he need not have held any such thought.
-Mary-Clare was far too impersonal; far too absorbed a nature
-to be largely concerned with herself, and Northrup had failed
-absolutely in his deductions, as he was soon to learn.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span></div>
-<p>What Mary-Clare did see in Northrup’s heroine was a
-maddening possibility that he was letting slip through his
-fingers. At first this puzzled her; pained her. She was still
-timid about expressing her feeling. But so strong was Northrup’s
-touch in most of his work that at last he drove his quiet,
-silent critic from her moorings. She asked that she might
-have a copy of a certain part of the book.</p>
-<p>“I want to think it out with my woman-brain,” she laughingly
-explained. “When you read right at this spot––well,
-you see, it doesn’t seem clear. When I have thought it out
-alone, then I will tell you and be––oh! very bold.”</p>
-<p>And Northrup had complied.</p>
-<p>He had blazed for himself, some time before, a roundabout
-trail through the briery underbrush from the inn to within a
-few hundred feet of the cabin. Often he watched from this
-hidden limit. He saw the smoke rise from the chimney;
-once or twice he caught a glimpse of Mary-Clare sitting at the
-rough table, and, after she had taken those chapters away, he
-knew they were being read there.</p>
-<p>Alone, waiting, expecting he knew not what, Northrup
-became alarmingly aware that Mary-Clare had got a tremendous
-hold upon him. The knowledge was almost staggering.
-He had felt so sure; had risked so much.</p>
-<p>He could not deceive himself any longer. Like other men,
-he had played with fire and had been burnt. “But,” he
-devoutly thought, “thank God, I have started no conflagration.”</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XI' id='CHAPTER_XI'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
-</div>
-<p>There had been five days in which to face a rather
-ugly and bald fact before Northrup again saw Mary-Clare.
-He had employed the time, he tried to make
-himself believe, wisely, sanely.</p>
-<p>He had spent a good portion of it at the Point. He had
-irritated Larry beyond endurance by friendly overtures.
-In an effort to be just, he tried to include Rivers in his reconstruction.
-The truth, he sternly believed, would never be
-known, but if it were, certainly Rivers might have something
-to say for himself, and with humiliation Northrup regarded
-himself “as other men.” He had never, thank heaven!
-looked upon himself as better than other men, but he had
-thought his struggle, early in life, his unhappy parenthood,
-and later devotion to his work, had set him apart from the
-general temptations of many young men and had given him
-a distaste for follies that could hold no suggestion of mystery
-for him.</p>
-<p>Well, Fate had merely bided its time.</p>
-<p>With every reason for escaping a pitfall, he had floundered
-in. “Like other men?” Northrup sneered at himself. No
-other man could be such a consummate fool, knowing what
-he knew.</p>
-<p>Viewed from this position, Larry was not as contemptible
-as he had once appeared.</p>
-<p>But Rivers resented Northrup’s advances, putting the
-lowest interpretation upon them. In this he was upheld by
-Maclin, who was growing restive under the tension that did
-not break, but stretched endlessly on.</p>
-<p>Northrup resolved to see Mary-Clare once more and then
-go home. He would make sure that the fire he himself was
-scorched by had not touched her. After that he would turn
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
-his back upon the golden selah in his life and return to his
-niche in the wall.</p>
-<p>This brought his mother and Kathryn into the line of
-vision. How utterly he had betrayed their confidence!
-His whole life, from now on, should be devoted to their
-service. Doubtless to other men, like himself, there were
-women who were never forgotten, but that must not blot
-out reality.</p>
-<p>And then Northrup considered the task of unearthing
-Maclin’s secrets, and ridding the Forest of that subtle fear
-and distrust that the man created. That was, however, too
-big an undertaking now. He must get Twombley to watch
-and report. Northrup had a great respect for Twombley’s
-powers of observation.</p>
-<p>And so the time on the Point had been put to some purpose,
-and it had occupied Northrup. Noreen and Jan-an
-had helped, too. It was rather tragic the way Northrup had
-grown to feel about Noreen. The child had developed his
-latent love for children––they had never figured in his life
-before. So much had been left out, now that he came to
-think of it!</p>
-<p>And Jan-an. Poor groping creature! To have gained
-her affection and trust meant a great deal.</p>
-<p>Then the Heathcotes! Polly and Peter! During those
-five distraught days they developed halos in Northrup’s
-imagination.</p>
-<p>They had taken him in, a stranger. They had fathered
-and mothered him; staunchly and silently stood by him.
-What if they knew?</p>
-<p>They must never know! He would make sure of that.</p>
-<p>In this frame of mind, chastened and determined, Northrup
-on the fifth day took his place behind the laurel clump back
-of Mary-Clare’s cabin, and to his relief saw her coming out
-of the door. His manuscript was not in her hands, but her
-face had an uplifted and luminous look that set his heart to a
-quicker pulsing.</p>
-<p>After a decent length of time, Northrup, whistling carelessly,
-scruffing the dead leaves noiselessly, followed on and
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span>
-overtook Mary-Clare near the log upon which they had sat
-at their last meeting.</p>
-<p>The quaint poise and dignity of the girl was the first impression
-Northrup always got. He had never quite grown
-accustomed to it; it was like a challenge––his impulse was to
-test it. It threatened his exalted state now.</p>
-<p>“It’s quite mysterious, isn’t it?”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare sat down on her end of the log and looked up,
-her eyes twinkling.</p>
-<p>“What is mysterious?” Northrup took his place. The
-log was not a long one.</p>
-<p>“The way we manage to meet.”</p>
-<p>She was setting him at a safe distance in that old way of
-hers that somehow made her seem so young.</p>
-<p>It irritated Northrup now as it never had before.</p>
-<p>He had prepared himself for an ordeal, was keyed to a
-high note, and the quiet, smiling girl near him made it all
-seem a farce.</p>
-<p>This was dangerous. Northrup relaxed.</p>
-<p>“It’s been nearly a week since I saw you,” he said, and let
-his eyes rest upon Mary-Clare’s face.</p>
-<p>“Yes, nearly a week,” she said softly, “but it took me all
-that time to make up my mind.”</p>
-<p>“About what?”</p>
-<p>“Your book.”</p>
-<p>Northrup had forgotten, for the moment, his book, and
-he resented its introduction.</p>
-<p>“Damn the book!” he thought. Aloud he said: “Of course!
-You were going to tell me where I have fallen down.”</p>
-<p>“I hope you are not making a joke of it”––Mary-Clare’s
-face flushed––“but even if you are, I am going to tell you
-what I think. I must, you know.”</p>
-<p>“That’s awfully good of you”––Northrup became earnest––“but
-it doesn’t matter now, I am going away. Let us talk
-of something else.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare took this in silence. The only evidence of
-her surprise showed in the higher touch of colour that rose,
-then died out, leaving her almost pale.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></div>
-<p>“Then, there is all the more reason why I must tell you
-what I think,” she said at last.</p>
-<p>The words came like sharp detached particles; they hurt.</p>
-<p>“We must talk about the book!”</p>
-<p>And Northrup suddenly caught the truth. The book was
-their common language. Only through that could they
-reach each other, understandingly.</p>
-<p>“All right!” he murmured, and turned his face away.</p>
-<p>“It’s your woman,” Mary-Clare began with a sharp catching
-of her breath as if she had been running. “Your woman
-is not real.”</p>
-<p>Northrup flushed. He was foolishly and suddenly angry.
-If the book must be brought in, he would defend it. It was
-all that was left to him of this detached interlude of his
-life. He meant to keep it. It was one thing to live along in
-his story and daringly see how close he could come to revealment
-with the keen-witted girl who had inspired him, but
-quite another, now that he was going, beaten from the field,
-to have the book, <i>as</i> a book, assailed. As to books, he knew
-his business!</p>
-<p>“You put <i>your</i> words in your woman’s mouth,” Mary-Clare
-was saying.</p>
-<p>“And whose words, pray, should I put there?” Northrup
-asked huskily.</p>
-<p>“You must let her speak for herself.”</p>
-<p>“Good Lord!”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare did not notice the interruption. She was
-doing battle for more than Northrup guessed. She hoped
-he would never know the truth, but the battle must be
-fought if all the beautiful weeks of joy were to be saved for
-the future. The idealism that the old doctor had desperately
-hoped might save, not destroy, Mary-Clare was to prove itself
-now.</p>
-<p>“There are so many endings in life, that it is hard, in a
-book, to choose just one. Why should there be an end to a
-book?” she asked.</p>
-<p>The question came falteringly and Northrup almost
-laughed.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></div>
-<p>“Go on, please,” he said quietly. “You think I’ve ended
-my woman by letting her do what any woman in real life
-would do?”</p>
-<p>“All women would not do what your woman does. Such
-women end men!”</p>
-<p>This was audacious, but it caught Northrup’s imagination.</p>
-<p>“Go on,” he muttered lamely.</p>
-<p>“Do you think love is everything to a woman?” Mary-Clare
-demanded ferociously.</p>
-<p>“It is the biggest thing!” Northrup was up in arms to
-defend his code and his work.</p>
-<p>“You think it could wipe out honour, all the things that
-meant honour to her?”</p>
-<p>“Love conquers everything for a woman.”</p>
-<p>“Does it for a man?”</p>
-<p>Northrup tried to fling out the affirmative, but he hedged.</p>
-<p>“Largely, yes.”</p>
-<p>“I do not think that. There are some things bigger to
-him. Maybe not bigger, but things that he would choose
-instead of love, if he had to. It is what you <i>do</i> to love
-that matters. If you come and take it when you haven’t
-a right to it; when you’d be stealing it; letting other sacred
-things go for it––then you would be killing love. But if you
-honour it, even if it is lonely and often sad, it lives and lives
-and–––”</p>
-<p>The universe, at that momentous instant, seemed to
-rock and tremble. Everything was swept aside as by a
-Force that but bided its hour and had taken absolute control.</p>
-<p>Northrup was never able to connect the two edges of conscious
-thought that were riven apart by the blinding stroke
-that left him and Mary-Clare in that space where their souls
-met. But, thank God, the Force was not evil; it was but
-revealing.</p>
-<p>Northrup drew Mary-Clare to her feet and held her little
-work-worn hands close.</p>
-<p>“You are crying––suffering,” he whispered.</p>
-<p>“Yes.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></div>
-<p>“And–––”</p>
-<p>“Oh! please wait”––the deep sobs shook the girl––“you
-must wait. I’ll try to––to make you see. I was awake that
-night at the inn––that is why I––trust you now! Why I want
-you to––to understand.”</p>
-<p>She seemed pleading with him––it made him wince; she
-was calling forth his best to help her weakest.</p>
-<p>“Your book”––Mary-Clare gripped that again––“your
-book is a beautiful, live thing––we must keep it so! Your
-man has grown and grown through every page until he quite
-naturally believed he was able to––to do more than any
-man can ever do! Why, this is your chance to be different,
-stronger.” The quick, panting words ran into each other
-and then Mary-Clare controlled them while, unheeded, the
-tears rolled down her cheeks. “You must let your woman
-<i>act</i> for herself! She, too, must learn and know. She made a
-horrible mistake from <i>not</i> knowing and seeing the first man;
-no love can help her by taking the solution from her. She
-must be free––free and begin again. If it is right–––”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Mary-Clare. If it is right, what then?”</p>
-<p>Everything seemed to wait upon the answer. The scurrying
-wood creatures and the dropping of dead leaves alone
-broke the silence. Slowly, like one coming into consciousness,
-Mary-Clare drew one hand from Northrup’s, wiped her eyes,
-and then––let it fall again into his!</p>
-<p>“I can see clearer now,” she faltered. “Please, please
-try to understand. It is because love means so much to some
-women, that when they think it out with their women-minds
-they will be very careful of it. They will feel about it as
-men do about their honour. There must be times when love
-must stand aside if they want to keep it! I know how queer
-and crooked all this must sound, but men do not stop loving if
-their honour makes them turn from it. We are all, men and
-women, too, <i>parts</i>––we cannot act as if––oh! you do understand,
-I know you do, and some day you will go on with your
-beautiful book.”</p>
-<p>“And the end of my book, Mary-Clare? There must be
-an end.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></div>
-<p>“I do not know. I do not think a great big book ever
-ends any more than life ends.”</p>
-<p>Northrup was swept from his hard-wrought position at
-this. The next wave of emotion might carry him higher,
-but for the moment he was drifting, drifting.</p>
-<p>“You do not know life, nor men, nor women,” he said
-huskily and clutched her hands in his. “If life cheats and
-injures you, you have a right to snatch what joy you can.
-It’s not only what you do to love, but what you do to yourself,
-that counts. For real love can stand anything.”</p>
-<p>“No, it cannot!” Mary-Clare tried to draw away, but she
-felt the hold tighten on her hands; “it cannot stand dishonour.
-That’s what kills it.”</p>
-<p>“Dishonour! What <i>is</i> dishonour?” Northrup asked bitterly.
-“I’m going to prove as far as I can, in my book, that
-the right kind of man and woman with a big enough love
-can throttle life; cheat the cheater.” This came defiantly.</p>
-<p>But the book no longer served its purpose; it seemed to
-fall at the feet of the man and woman, standing with clasped
-hands and hungry, desperate eyes.</p>
-<p>The words that might have changed their lives were never
-spoken, for, down the trail gaily, joyously, came the sound of
-Noreen’s voice, shrilly singing one of the songs Northrup had
-taught her.</p>
-<p>“That’s what I mean by honour,” Mary-Clare whispered.
-“Noreen and all that she is! You, you <i>do</i> understand about
-some women, don’t you? You will help, not hurt, such
-women, won’t you?”</p>
-<p>“For God’s sake, Mary-Clare, don’t!”</p>
-<p>Northrup bent and touched his lips to the small work-stained
-hands. The song down the trail rose joyously.</p>
-<p>“I have thought of you”––Mary-Clare was catching her
-breath sharply––“as Noreen has––a man brought by the
-haunted wind. It has all been like a wonderful play. I have
-not thought of the place where you belong, but I know there
-are those in that place who are like Noreen.”</p>
-<p>“Yes!” Northrup shivered and flinched as a cold, wet
-leaf fell upon his hands and Mary-Clare’s.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></div>
-<p>“The wind is changing,” said the woman. “The lovely
-autumn has been kind and has stayed long.”</p>
-<p>“My dear, my dear––don’t!” Northrup pleaded.</p>
-<p>“Oh! but I must. You see I want you to think back,
-as I shall––at all this as great happiness. Come, let us
-go down the trail. I want you to tell me about your city,
-the place where you belong! I must picture you there
-now.”</p>
-<p>Northrup kept the small right hand in his as they turned.
-It was a cold hand and it trembled in his grasp, but there
-was a steel-like quality in it, too.</p>
-<p>It was tragic, this strength of the girl who had drawn her
-understanding of life from hidden sources. Northrup knew
-that she was seeking to smooth his way on ahead; to take the
-bitterness from a memory that, without her sacrifice, might
-hold him back from what had been, was, and must always
-be, inevitable. She was ignoring the weak, tempted moment
-and linking the past with all that the future must hold
-for them both.</p>
-<p>There was only the crude, simple course for him to follow––to
-accept the commonplace, turn and face life as one turns
-from a grave that hides a beautiful thing.</p>
-<p>“You have never been to the city?”</p>
-<p>There was nothing to do but resort to words. Superficial,
-foolish words.</p>
-<p>“Yes, once. On my wedding trip.”</p>
-<p>This was unfortunate, but words without thought are wild
-things.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare hurried along while visions of Larry’s city
-rose like smiting rebukes to her heedlessness. Cheap theatres,
-noisy restaurants, gaudy lights.</p>
-<p>“My dear doctor and I always planned going together,”
-she said brokenly. “I believe there are many cities in the
-city. One has to find his city for himself.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, that’s exactly what one does.” Northrup closed his
-hand closer over the dead-cold one in his grasp.</p>
-<p>“Your city, it must be wonderful.”</p>
-<p>“It will be a haunted city, Mary-Clare.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></div>
-<p>“Tell me about it. And tell me a little, if you don’t mind,
-about your people.”</p>
-<p>The bravery was almost heart-breaking, it caused Northrup’s
-lips to set grimly.</p>
-<p>“There is my mother,” he replied.</p>
-<p>“I’m glad. You love her very much?”</p>
-<p>“Very much. She’s wonderful. My father died long
-ago.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare did not ask whether he loved his father or not,
-and she hurried on:</p>
-<p>“And now, when I try to think of you in your city, at
-your work, just how shall I think of you? Make it like a
-picture.”</p>
-<p>Northrup struggled with himself. The girl beside him, in
-pushing him from her life, was so unutterably sweet and
-brave.</p>
-<p>“My dear, my dear!” he whispered, and remorse, pity,
-yearning rang in the words.</p>
-<p>“Make it like a picture!” Relentlessly the words were
-repeated. They demanded that he give his best.</p>
-<p>“Think of a high little room in a tall tower overlooking
-all cities,” he began slowly, “the cheap, the beautiful, the
-glad, and the sad. The steam and smoke roll up and seem
-to make a gauzy path upon which all that really matters
-comes and goes as one sits and watches.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare’s eyes were wide and vision-filled.</p>
-<p>“Oh! thank you,” she whispered. “I shall always see it
-and you so. And sometimes, maybe when the sun is going
-down, as it is now, you will see me on that trail that is just
-yours, in your city coming to––to wish you well!”</p>
-<p>“Good God!” Northrup shook himself. “What’s got us
-two? We’ve worked ourselves into a pretty state. Talking
-as, as if––Mary-Clare, I’m not going away. There will be
-other days. It’s that book of mine. Hang it! We’ve got
-snarled in the book.”</p>
-<p>The weak efforts to ignore everything failed pitifully.</p>
-<p>“No, it is life.” Mary-Clare grew grim as Northrup
-relaxed. “But I want you always to remember my old
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span>
-doctor’s rule. If a thing is going to kill you, die bravely; if it
-isn’t, get over it at once and live the best you can.”</p>
-<p>“God bless and keep you, Mary-Clare.” Absolute surrender
-marked the tone.</p>
-<p>“He will!”</p>
-<p>“But this is not good-bye!”</p>
-<p>“No, it is not good-bye.”</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XII' id='CHAPTER_XII'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
-</div>
-<p>While the days were passing and Mary-Clare and
-Northrup, with the book between them as a shield,
-fought their battle and won their victory, they had
-taken small heed of the undercurrent that was not merely
-carrying them on, but bearing others, also.</p>
-<p>Northrup was comfortably conscious of Aunt Polly and old
-Peter, at the days’ ends. The sense of going home to them
-was distinctly a joy, a fitting and safe interlude.</p>
-<p>Noreen and Jan-an supplied the light-comedy touch, for the
-two were capable of supplying no end of fun when there were
-hours that could not be utilized in work or devoted to that
-thrilling occupation of walking the trails with Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>The real, sordid tragedy element played small part in the
-autumn idyl, but it was developing none the less.</p>
-<p>Larry on the Point was showing more patient persistence
-than one could have expected. He went about Maclin’s
-business with his usual reticence and devotion; occasionally
-he was away for a few days; when he was at home in Peneluna’s
-shack he was a quiet, rather pathetic figure of a man
-at loose ends, but casting no slurs. It was that pacific
-attitude of his that got on the nerves of his doubters and
-those who believed they understood him.</p>
-<p>Peneluna, torn between her loyalty to Mary-Clare and the
-decency she felt called upon to show the old doctor’s son, was
-becoming irritable and jerky. Jan-an shrank from her and
-whimpered:</p>
-<p>“What have I done? Ain’t I fetching and carrying for
-him?”––she nodded heavily toward Larry’s abiding place.
-“Ain’t I watching and telling yer all that he does? Writing
-and tearing up what he writes! Ain’t I showing you his
-scraps what don’t get burned? Ain’t I acting square?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></div>
-<p>Peneluna softened.</p>
-<p>“Yes, you are!” she admitted. “But I declare, after
-finding nothing agin him, one gets to wondering if there <i>is</i>
-anything agin him. I don’t like suspecting my feller
-creatures.”</p>
-<p>“Suspectin’ ain’t like murdering!” Jan-an blurted out.</p>
-<p>“If you don’t stop talking like that, Jan-an–––” But
-Peneluna paused, for she saw the frightened look creeping
-into Jan-an’s dull eyes.</p>
-<p>It was while the Point was agitated about Larry that
-Twombley brought forth his gun and took to cleaning it and
-fondling it by his doorway. This action of Twombley’s
-fascinated Jan-an.</p>
-<p>“What yer going to shoot?” she asked.</p>
-<p>“Ducks, maybe.” Twombley leered pleasantly.</p>
-<p>“I wish yer wouldn’t.”</p>
-<p>“Why, Jan-an?”</p>
-<p>“Ducks ain’t so used to it as chickens. I hate to see
-flying things as <i>can</i> fly popped over.”</p>
-<p>At this Twombley laughed aloud.</p>
-<p>“All right, girl, I’ll hunt up something else to aim at––something
-that’s used to it. I ain’t saying I’ll hit anything,
-but aimin’ and finding out how steady yer hand is ain’t
-lacking in sport.”</p>
-<p>So Twombley erected a target and enlivened and startled
-the Point by his practise. Maclin, after a few weeks of
-absence from the Point, called occasionally on his private
-agent and he was displeased by Twombley’s new amusement.</p>
-<p>“What in thunder are you up to?” he asked.</p>
-<p>“Not much––yet!” Twombley admitted. “Don’t hit the
-hole more than once out of four.”</p>
-<p>“But the noise is bad for folks, Twombley.”</p>
-<p>“They like it,” Twombley broke in. “Makes ’em jump
-and know they’re alive. It’s like fleas on dogs.”</p>
-<p>“When I’m talking business with Rivers,” Twombley
-insisted, “I hate the racket.”</p>
-<p>“All right, when I see you there, I’ll hold off.”</p>
-<p>But Maclin did not want always to be seen at the shack.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span>
-It was one thing to stroll down to the Point, now and again,
-with that air of having made mistakes in the past and greeting
-the Pointers pleasantly, and quite another to find out,
-secretly, just what progress Larry was making in his interests
-and knowing what Larry was doing with his long days
-and nights.</p>
-<p>So, after a fortnight of consideration, Maclin walked
-with Rivers from the mines one night determined to spend
-several hours in the shack and “use his eyes.” Larry did not
-seem particularly pleased with this intention and paused
-several times on the rough, dusky road, giving Maclin an
-opportunity to bid him good-night. But Maclin stuck like
-the little brown devil-pitchforks that decorated the trousers
-of both men as they strode on the woodside of the road.</p>
-<p>“I’m like a rat in a hole,” Larry confided, despairing of
-shaking Maclin off. “I wish to God you’d send me away
-somewhere––overseas, if you can. You once promised
-that.”</p>
-<p>Maclin’s eyes contracted, but it was too dark for Rivers
-to notice.</p>
-<p>“Too late, just now, Rivers. That hell of a time they’re
-having over there keeps peaceful folks to their own waters.”</p>
-<p>“Sometimes”––Larry grew moody––“I’ve thought I’d like
-to tumble into that mess and either–––”</p>
-<p>“What?” Abruptly Maclin caught Rivers up.</p>
-<p>“Oh! go under or––come to the top.” This was to laugh––so
-both men laughed.</p>
-<p>Laughing and talking in undertones, they came to the dark
-shack and Larry, irritated at his inability to drop Maclin,
-unlocked the door and went in, followed by his unwelcome
-guest.</p>
-<p>“What in thunder do you lock this old rookery up for?”
-Maclin asked, stumbling over a chair.</p>
-<p>“I’ve got a notion lately that folks peep and pry. I’ve
-seen footprints around the house.”</p>
-<p>“Well, why shouldn’t they pry and tramp about? The
-Point’s getting dippy. And that blasted gun of Twombley’s!
-See here, Rivers!”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></div>
-<p>By this time Larry had lighted the smelly lamp and closed
-the door and locked it.</p>
-<p>“You’re getting nervous and twisted, Rivers.”</p>
-<p>The two sat down by the paper-strewn table.</p>
-<p>“Well, who wouldn’t?” snapped Rivers. “Hiding in this
-junk, knowing that your wife–––” he paused abruptly,
-but Maclin nodded sympathetically. “It’s hell, Maclin.”</p>
-<p>“Sure! Got anything to drink?”</p>
-<p>Larry went to the closet and brought out a bottle and
-glasses.</p>
-<p>“This helps!” Maclin said, pouring out the best brand
-from the Cosey.</p>
-<p>The men drained their glasses and became, after a few
-minutes, more cheerful. Maclin stretched out his legs––he
-had to do this in order to adjust his fat and put his hands in
-his pockets.</p>
-<p>“Larry, I want to tell you that you won’t have to hide in
-your hole much longer. I’m one too many for that fellow
-Northrup. I hold the cards now.”</p>
-<p>“The devil you do!” Rivers’s eyes brightened.</p>
-<p>“Yes, sir. He wants the Point, old man, and the Heathcotes
-gave him the knowledge that your wife owns it. He’s
-getting her where he can handle her. Damn shame, I say––using
-a woman and taking advantage of her weak side.
-If we don’t act spry he’ll get what he wants.”</p>
-<p>Larry’s face flushed a purple-red.</p>
-<p>“What do you mean, Maclin? Talk out straight and
-clear.”</p>
-<p>“Well, I weigh it this way and that. Northrup might––I
-hate to use brutal terms––he might compromise your wife
-and get her to sell and shut him up, or he might get her so
-bedazzled that she’d feel real set up to negotiate with him.
-A man like Northrup is pretty flattering to a woman like
-your wife, Rivers. You see, she’s carrying such a big cargo
-of learning and fancy rot that she can’t properly sail. That
-kind gets stranded <i>always</i>, Larry. They just naturally <i>make</i>
-for rocks.”</p>
-<p>Larry had a sensation of choking and loosened his collar,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span>
-then he surprised Maclin by turning and lighting a fire in
-the stove before he further surprised him by asking, with
-dangerous calmness:</p>
-<p>“What in all that’s holy do you––this Northrup––any one,
-want this damned Point for?”</p>
-<p>Maclin was rarely in a position to fence with Rivers, but
-he was now.</p>
-<p>“Larry, old man, did you ever have in your life an ideal,
-or what stands for it, that you would work for, and suffer for?”</p>
-<p>“No!” Rivers could not stand delay.</p>
-<p>“Well, I have, Larry. I’m an old sentimentalist, when
-you know me proper. I took a fancy to you, and while I
-can’t show my feelings as many can, I have stood by you
-and you’ve been a proposition, off and on. I bought those
-mines because I saw the chance they offered, and I shared
-with you. I’ve got big men interested. I’ve let you carry
-results to them––but the results are slow, Rivers, and they’re
-getting restive. I’m afraid some one of them has blabbed
-and this Northrup is the result. Why, man, I’ve got inventions
-over at the mines that will revolutionize this rotten,
-lazy Forest. I wanted to win the folks––but they wouldn’t
-be won. I wanted to save them in spite of themselves, but
-damn ’em, they won’t be saved. In a year I could make
-Heathcote a rich man, if he’d wake up and <i>keep</i> an inn instead
-of a kennel. But I’ve got to have this Point. I want
-to build a bridge from here to the railroad property on the
-other shore––this is the narrowest part of the lake; I want
-to build cottages here, instead of––of rat holes. I’ve got
-to get this Point by hook or crook––and I can’t shilly-shally
-with this Northrup on to the game.”</p>
-<p>Suddenly, while he was talking, Maclin’s eyes fell upon
-the untidy mass of papers on the table. He pulled his fat
-hands out of his tight pockets and let them fall like paperweights
-on the envelopes and sheets.</p>
-<p>“What are these?” he asked.</p>
-<p>Larry started guiltily.</p>
-<p>“Old letters,” he said.</p>
-<p>“What you doing with them?” As he spoke Maclin was
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span>
-sorting and arranging the papers––the old he put to one side;
-the newer ones on the other. Some of the new ones were
-astonishingly good copies of the old!</p>
-<p>“Playing the old game, eh?” Maclin scowled. “I thought
-you’d had enough of that, after–––”</p>
-<p>“For God’s sake, Maclin, shut up.”</p>
-<p>“Been carrying these mementos around with you all these
-years?”</p>
-<p>Maclin was reading a letter of Larry’s father––an old one.</p>
-<p>“No, I brought them with me from the old house. Mary-Clare
-had them, but they were mine.” Larry’s face was
-white and set into hard lines.</p>
-<p>“Sure, so I see.” And Maclin was seeing a great deal.</p>
-<p>He saw that Rivers had torn off, where it was possible,
-half pages from the old and yellowed letters; these were carefully
-banded together, while on fresh sheets of paper, the
-old letters in part, or in whole, were cleverly copied.</p>
-<p>There was one yellowed half sheet in the old doctor’s
-handwriting bearing a new form of expression––there was no
-original of this. Maclin made sure of that. He read this
-new form once, twice, three times.</p>
-<p>“If the time should ever come, my girl, when you and
-Larry could not agree, he’ll give you this letter. It is all I
-could do for him; it will prove that I trust you, at every turn,
-to do the right and just thing. Stand by Larry, as I have
-done.”</p>
-<p>Maclin puffed out his cheeks. They looked like a child’s
-red balloon. “What in hell!” he ejaculated.</p>
-<p>Larry’s face was gray. Guilt is always quick to hold up
-its hands when it thinks the enemy has the drop on it.</p>
-<p>“Can’t you understand?” he whispered through dry lips.
-“I want to outwit them. I’m as keen as you, Maclin, and
-I’m working for you, old man, working for you! I was going
-to take this to her––she’ll do anything when she reads that––and
-I was going to tell her why the old man stood by me.
-That would shut her mouth and make her pay.”</p>
-<p>There is in the shield of every man a weak spot. There
-was one in the shield of Maclin’s brutal villainy. For a moment
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span>
-he felt positively virtuous; perhaps the sensation proved
-the embryo virtue in all.</p>
-<p>“Are any of these things real?” he asked with a rough
-catch in his voice; “and don’t lie to me––it wouldn’t be
-healthy.”</p>
-<p>“No.”</p>
-<p>“You got your wife by letting her think your old father
-wanted it, wrote about it?”</p>
-<p>“Yes. I had to outwit them some way. I was just free
-and couldn’t choose. They had no right to cut me out.”</p>
-<p>“Well, by God, you <i>are</i> a rotter, Rivers.” The lines
-at which criminals balk are confusing. “And she never
-guessed?”</p>
-<p>“No, she’d never seen Father’s writing in letters.”</p>
-<p>Then Maclin’s outraged virtue took a curious turn.</p>
-<p>“And you never cared for her after you got her?”</p>
-<p>“I might have if she’d been the right sort––but she’s as
-hard as flint, Maclin. A man can’t stand her sort and keep
-his own self-respect.”</p>
-<p>Maclin indulged in a weak laugh at this and Larry’s face
-burned.</p>
-<p>“I might have gone straight if she’d been square, but she
-wasn’t. A man can’t put up with her type. And now––well!
-She ought to pay now.”</p>
-<p>Maclin was gripping the loose sheets in his fat, greasy
-hands.</p>
-<p>“Hold on there.” Larry pointed. “You’re getting them
-creased and dirty!”</p>
-<p>Again Maclin laughed.</p>
-<p>“I’ll leave enough copy,” he muttered. Then he fixed his
-little eyes on his prey while his fat neck wrinkled in the back.
-His emotion of virtue flickered and died, he was the alert
-man of business once more. “I told you after you got out
-of prison, Rivers, that I’d never stand for any more of that
-counterfeiting stuff. It’s too risky, and the talent can be put
-to better purpose. I’ve stood by you, I like you, and I need
-you. When we all pony up you’ll get your share––I mean
-when we build up the Forest, you’ll have a fat berth, but
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span>
-you’ve got to play a card now for me and play it damn quick.
-Here, take this gem of yours”––he tossed Larry’s latest
-production to him––“and go to your wife to-morrow, and
-tell her why your old man stood by you; shut her mouth
-with that choice bit and then tell her––you want the Point!
-You’ve got her cornered, Rivers. She can’t escape. If she
-tries to, hurl Northrup at her.”</p>
-<p>Larry wiped his lips with his hot hand.</p>
-<p>“I haven’t quite finished this,” he muttered; “it will take
-a day or two.”</p>
-<p>“Rivers, if you try any funny work on me–––” Maclin
-looked dangerous. He felt the fear that comes from not
-trusting those he must use.</p>
-<p>“I’m not going to double-cross you, Maclin.”</p>
-<p>“Here, take a nifter.” Maclin pushed the bottle toward
-Rivers. “You look all in,” he ventured.</p>
-<p>“I am, just about.”</p>
-<p>“Well, after this piece of business, I’ll send you off for
-as long as you want to stay. You need a change.”</p>
-<p>Larry revived after a moment or two and some colour crept
-into his cheeks.</p>
-<p>“I’m going now,” Maclin said, getting up and releasing the
-tools of Larry’s trade. “Better get a good night’s rest and
-be fresh for to-morrow. A day or so won’t count, so long as
-we understand the game. Good-night!”</p>
-<p>Outside in the darkness Maclin stood still and listened.
-His iron nerves were shaken and he had his moment of far
-vision. If he succeeded––well! at that thought Maclin felt
-his blood run riotously in his veins. Glory! Glory! His
-name ringing out into fame.</p>
-<p>But!––the cold sweat broke over the fat man standing in
-the dark. Still, he would not have been the man he was
-if he permitted doubt to linger. He <i>must</i> succeed. Right
-was back of him; with him. Unyielding Right. It must
-succeed.</p>
-<p>Maclin strode on, picking his way over the ash heaps and
-broken bottles. A pale moon was trying to make itself
-evident, but piles of black clouds defeated it at every attempt.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span>
-The wind was changing. From afar the chapel bell struck
-its warning. It rang wildly, gleefully, then sank into silence
-only to begin once more. Seeking, seeking a quarter in which
-it might rest.</p>
-<p>Maclin, head down, plunged into the night and reached the
-road to the mines. He saw to it that the road was so bad
-that no one would use it except from necessity, but he cursed
-it now. He all but fell several times, he thanked God––God
-indeed!––when the lights of the Cosey Bar came in sight.</p>
-<p>He did not often drink of his public whiskey, or drink
-with his foreigners, but he chose to do so to-night. His men
-welcomed him thickly––they had been wallowing in beer for
-hours; the man at the bar drew forth a bottle of whiskey––he
-knew Maclin rarely drank beer.</p>
-<p>An hour later, Maclin, master of the place and the men,
-was talking slowly, encouragingly, in a tongue that they all
-understood. Their dull eyes brightened; their heavy faces
-twitched under excitement that amounted to inspiration.
-Now and again they raised their mugs aloft and muttered
-something that sounded strangely like prayer.</p>
-<p>Dominated by a man and an emotion they were, not the
-drudging machines of the mines, but a vital force ready for
-action.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XIII' id='CHAPTER_XIII'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Northrup decided to turn back at once to his own
-place in life after that revealing afternoon with Mary-Clare.
-He was not in any sense deceived by conditions.
-He had, after twenty-four hours, been able to classify
-the situation and reduce it to its proper proportions. As it
-stood, it had, he acknowledged, been saved by the rare and
-unusual qualities of Mary-Clare. But it could not bear
-the stress and strain of repeated tests. Unless he meant to
-be a fool and fill his future with remorse, for he was decent
-and sane, he could do nothing but go away and let the incidents
-of King’s Forest bear sanctifying fruits, not draughts
-of wormwood.</p>
-<p>Something rather big had happened to him––he must not
-permit it to become small. He recalled Mary-Clare’s words
-and face and a great tenderness swept over him.</p>
-<p>“Poor little girl,” he thought, “part of a commonplace,
-dingy tragedy. What is there for her? But what could I
-have done for her, in God’s name, to better her lot? She
-saw it clear enough.”</p>
-<p>No, there was nothing to do but turn his back on the whole
-thing and go home! Shorn of the spiritual and uplifting
-qualities, the situation was bald and dangerous. He must
-be practical and wise, but deciding to leave and actually
-leaving were different matters.</p>
-<p>The weather jeered at him by its glorious warmth and
-colour. It <i>held</i> day after day with occasional sharp storms
-that ended in greater beauty. The thought of the city made
-Northrup shudder. He tried to work: it was still warm
-enough in the deserted chapel to write, but he knew that he
-was accomplishing nothing. There was a gap in the story––the
-woman part. Every time Northrup came to that he felt
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span>
-as if he were laying a wet cloth over the soft clay until he had
-time finally to mould it. And he kept from any chance of
-meeting Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>“I’ll wait until this marvellous spell of weather breaks,”
-he compromised with his lesser––or better––self. “Then I’ll
-beat it!”</p>
-<p>Looking to this he asked Uncle Peter what the chances
-were of a cold spell.</p>
-<p>“There was a time”––Peter sniffed the air. He was
-husking golden corn by the kitchen fire––“when I could calculate
-about the weather, but since the weather man has got
-to meddling he’s messed things considerable. He’s put in
-the Middle States, and what-not, until it’s like doing subtraction
-and division––and by that time the change of weather
-is on you.”</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed.</p>
-<p>“Well,” he said, getting up and stretching, “I think I’ll
-take a turn before I go to bed. Bank the fire, Uncle Peter;
-I may prowl late.”</p>
-<p>Heathcote asked no questions, but those prowls of Northrup’s
-were putting his simple faith to severe tests. Peter was
-above gossip, but when it swirled too near him he was bound
-to watch out.</p>
-<p>“All right, son,” he muttered, and ran his hand through his
-bristling hair.</p>
-<p>The night was a dark one. A soft darkness it was, that
-held no wind and only a hint of frost. Stepping quickly
-along the edge of the lake, Northrup felt that he was being
-absorbed by the still shadows and the sensation pleased and
-comforted him. He was not aware of thought, but thought
-was taking him into control, as the night was. There would
-be moments of seeming blank and then a conclusion! A
-vivid, final conclusion. Of course Mary-Clare occupied
-these moments of seeming mental inaction. Northrup now
-wanted to set her free from––what?</p>
-<p>“That young beast of a husband!” So much for that conclusion.
-If the end had come between him and Mary-Clare,
-Northrup wondered if he could free her from Rivers.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></div>
-<p>“What for?”</p>
-<p>This brought a hurtling mass of conclusions.</p>
-<p>“No man has a right to get a stranglehold on a woman.
-If she has, as the old darkey said, lost her taste for him,
-why in thunder should he want to cram himself down her
-throat?”</p>
-<p>This was more common sense than moral or legal, and
-Northrup bent his head and plunged along. He walked on,
-believing that he was master of his soul and his actions at
-last, while, in reality, he was but part of the Scheme of
-Things and was acting under orders.</p>
-<p>Presently, he imagined that he had decided all along to
-go to the Point and have a talk with Twombley. So he kept
-straight ahead.</p>
-<p>Twombley delighted his idle hours. The man, apparently,
-never went to bed until daylight, and his quaint unmorality
-was as diverting as that of an impish boy.</p>
-<p>“Now, sir,” he had confided to Northrup at a recent meeting,
-“there’s Peneluna Sniff. Good cook; good manager.
-I held off while she played up to old Sniff, women <i>are</i> curious!
-But now that woman ought to be utilized legitimate-like.
-She’s running to waste and throwing away her talents on
-that young Rivers as is giving this here Point the creeps.
-Peneluna and me together could find things out!”</p>
-<p>Northrup, hurrying on, believed there was no better way
-to drive off the blue devils that were torturing him than to
-pass the evening with Twombley.</p>
-<p>Just then he heard quick, light footsteps coming toward
-him. He hid behind some bushes by the path and waited.</p>
-<p>The oncomer was Larry Rivers on his way from the Point.
-His hat was pulled down over his face and his hands were
-plunged in his pockets. A lighted cigar in his mouth illumined
-his features––Larry rarely needed his hands to manipulate
-his cigar; a shift seemed to be all that was essential,
-until the ashes fell and the cigar was almost finished.</p>
-<p>Larry walked on, and when he was beyond sound Northrup
-proceeded on his way.</p>
-<p>The Point seemed wrapped in decent slumber. A light
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span>
-frankly burned in Twombley’s hovel, but for the rest, darkness!</p>
-<p>Oddly enough, Northrup passed Twombley’s place without
-halting, and presently found himself nearing Rivers’s.
-This did not surprise him. He had quite forgotten his plan.</p>
-<p>It was seeing Larry that had suggested this new move,
-probably; at any rate, Northrup was curiously interested in
-the fact that Larry was headed away from the Point and
-toward the yellow house.</p>
-<p>The loose rubbish and garbage presently got into Northrup’s
-consciousness and made him think, as they always did,
-of Maclin’s determination to get possession of the ugly place.</p>
-<p>“It is the very devil!” he muttered, almost tumbling over
-a smelly pile. “What’s that?” He crouched in the darkness.
-His eyes were so accustomed to the gloom now that
-he saw quite distinctly the door of Peneluna’s shack open,
-close softly, and someone tiptoeing toward Rivers’s shanty.
-Keeping at a distance, Northrup followed and when he was
-about twenty feet behind the other prowler, he saw that it
-was Jan-an and that she was cautiously going from window
-to window of Larry’s empty house, peeping, listening, and
-then finally muttering and whimpering.</p>
-<p>“Well, what in thunder!” Northrup decided to investigate
-but keep silent as long as he could.</p>
-<p>A baby in the distance broke into a cry; a man’s rough
-voice stilled it with a threat and then all was quiet once more.</p>
-<p>The next thing that occurred was the amazing sight of
-Jan-an nimbly climbing into the window of Larry’s kitchen!
-Jan-an had either pried the sash up or Larry had been careless.
-Northrup went up to the house and listened. Jan-an
-was moving rapidly about inside and presently she lighted a
-lamp, and through the slit between the shade and the window
-ledge Northrup could watch the girl’s movements.</p>
-<p>Jan-an wore an old coat, a man’s, over a coarse nightgown;
-her hair straggled down her back; her vacant face was twitching
-and worried, but a decent kind of dignity touched it, too.
-She was bent upon a definite course, but was confused and
-uncertain as to details.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></div>
-<p>Over the papers scattered on the table Jan-an bent like a
-hungry beast of prey. Her long fingers clutched the loose
-sheets; her devouring eyes scanned them, compared them
-with others, while over and again a muttered curse escaped
-the girl’s lips.</p>
-<p>Northrup took a big chance. He went to the door and
-tapped.</p>
-<p>He heard a quick, frightened move toward the window––Jan-an
-was escaping as she had entered. As the sash was
-raised, Northrup was close to the window and the girl reeled
-back as she saw him.</p>
-<p>“Jan-an,” he said quietly, controllingly, “let me in. You
-can trust me. Let me in.”</p>
-<p>Poor Jan-an was in sore need of someone in whom she
-might trust and she could not afford to waste time. She
-raised the sash again, climbed in, and then opened the door.
-Northrup entered and locked the door after him.</p>
-<p>“Now, then,” he said, sitting opposite to the girl who
-dropped, rather than seated herself, in her old place. “Jan-an,
-what are you up to?”</p>
-<p>To his surprise, the girl burst into tears.</p>
-<p>“My God,” she moaned, “what did I have feelin’s for––and
-no sense? I can’t read!” she blurted. “I can’t read.”</p>
-<p>This was puzzling, but Northrup saw that the girl had
-confidence in him––a desperate, unknowing confidence that
-had grown slowly.</p>
-<p>“Why do you want to read, Jan-an?” he asked in a low,
-kindly tone.</p>
-<p>“I know you ain’t his friend, are you?” The wet, pitiful
-face was lifted. Old fears and distrust rose grimly.</p>
-<p>“Whose?”</p>
-<p>“Maclin’s, ole divil-man Maclin?”</p>
-<p>“Certainly not! You know better than to ask that,
-Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>“Nor his––Larry Rivers?”</p>
-<p>“No, I am not his friend.”</p>
-<p>Thus reassured once more, Jan-an ventured nearer:</p>
-<p>“You don’t aim to hurt––her?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div>
-<p>“Whom do you mean?” Northrup was perplexed by the
-growing intelligence in the face across the table. It was like
-a slow revealing of a groping power.</p>
-<p>“I mean them––Mary-Clare and Noreen.”</p>
-<p>“Hurt them? Why, Jan-an, I’d do anything to help them,
-make them safe and happy.” Northrup felt as if he and
-the girl opposite were rapidly becoming accomplices in a
-tense plot. “What does all this mean?”</p>
-<p>“As God seeing yer, yer mean that?” Jan-an leaned
-forward.</p>
-<p>“God seeing me! Yes, Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>“Yer ain’t hanging around her to do her––dirt?”</p>
-<p>“Good Lord, no!” Northrup recoiled. Apparently new
-anxiety was overcoming the girl.</p>
-<p>Then, by a sudden dash, Jan-an swept the untidy mass of
-papers over to him; she abdicated her last stronghold.</p>
-<p>“What’s them?” she demanded huskily. Northrup
-brought the smelly kerosene lamp nearer and as he read he
-was conscious of Jan-an’s mutterings.</p>
-<p>“Stealing her letters––what is letters, anyway? And I’ve
-counted and watched––he’s took one to her to-night. Just
-one. One he has made. Writing day in and out––tearing
-up writing––sneaking and lying. God! And new letters
-looking like old ones, till I’m fair crazy.”</p>
-<p>For a few moments Northrup lost the sound of Jan-an’s
-guttural whimpers, then he caught the words:</p>
-<p>“And her crying and wanting the letters. Just letters!”
-Northrup again became absorbed.</p>
-<p>He placed certain old sheets on one side of the table; newer
-sheets on the other; some half sheets in the middle. It was
-like an intricate puzzle, and the same one that Maclin had
-recently tackled.</p>
-<p>That he was meddling with another’s property and reading
-another’s letters did not seem to occur to Northrup. He was
-held by a determined force that was driving him on and an
-intense interest that justified any means at his disposal.</p>
-<p>“Some day I will read my old doctor’s letters to you––I
-have kept them all!”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></div>
-<p>Northrup looked up. Almost he believed Jan-an had
-voiced the words, but they had been spoken days ago by
-Mary-Clare during one of those illuminating talks of theirs
-and here <i>were</i> some old letters of the doctor’s. Were these
-Mary-Clare’s letters? Why were they here and in this state?</p>
-<p>Suddenly Northrup’s face stiffened. The old, yellowed
-letters were, apparently, from Doctor Rivers to his son!
-But there were other letters on bits of fresh paper, the handwriting
-identical, or nearly so. Northrup’s more intelligent
-eye saw differences. The more recent letters were, evidently,
-exercises; one improved on the other; in some cases parts of
-the letters were repeated. All these Northrup sorted and
-laid in neat piles.</p>
-<p>“She set a store by them old letters,” Jan-an was rambling
-along. “I’d have taken them back to her, but I ’clar, ’fore
-God, I don’t know which is which, I’m that cluttered. Why
-did he want to pest her by taking them and then making more
-and more?”</p>
-<p>“I’m trying to find out.” Northrup spoke almost harshly.
-He wanted to quiet the girl.</p>
-<p>The last scrap of paper had been torn from an old, greasy
-bag and bore clever imitation. It was the last copy, Northrup
-believed, of what Jan-an said he had just carried away with
-him.</p>
-<p>Northrup grew hot and cold. He read the words and his
-brain reeled. It was an appeal, or supposed to be one, from a
-dead man to one whom he trusted in a last emergency.</p>
-<p>“So he’s this kind of a scoundrel!” muttered Northrup,
-dazed by the blinding shock of the fear that became, moment
-by moment, more definite. “And he’s taken the thing to her
-in order to get money.”</p>
-<p>Northrup could grope along, but he could not see clearly.
-By temperament and training he had evolved a peculiar
-sensitiveness in relation to inanimate things. If he became
-receptive and passive, articles which he handled or fixed his
-eyes upon often transmitted messages for him.</p>
-<p>So, now, disregarding poor Jan-an, who rambled on, Northrup
-gazed at the letters near him, and held close the brown-paper
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span>
-scrap which was, he believed, the final copy before the
-finished production which was undoubtedly being borne to
-Mary-Clare now. Rivers would have a scene with his wife
-in the yellow house. With no one to interfere! Northrup
-started affrightedly, then realized that before he could get
-to the crossroads whatever was to occur would have occurred.</p>
-<p>Larry would return to the shack. There was every evidence
-that he had not departed finally. Believing that no
-one would disturb his place so late at night he had taken a
-chance and––been caught by the last person in the world one
-would have suspected.</p>
-<p>As an unconscious sleuth Jan-an was dramatic. Northrup
-let his eyes fall upon the girl with new significance. She had
-given him the power to set Mary-Clare free!</p>
-<p>Her dull, tear-stained face was turned hopefully to him;
-her straight, coarse hair hung limply on her shoulders––the
-old coat had slipped away and the ugly nightgown but partly
-hid the thin, scraggy body. Lost to all self-consciousness, the
-poor creature was but an evidence of faith and devotion to
-them who had been kind to her. Something of nobility
-crowned the girl. Northrup went around to her and pulled
-the old coat close under her chin.</p>
-<p>“It’s all right, Jan-an,” he comforted, patting the unkempt
-head.</p>
-<p>“Are them the letters he stole?”</p>
-<p>“Some of them, yes, Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>“Kin I take ’em back to her?”</p>
-<p>“Not to-night. I think Rivers will take them back.”</p>
-<p>“S’pose he won’t.”</p>
-<p>“He will.”</p>
-<p>“You, you’re going to fetch him one?” The instinct of
-the savage rose in the girl.</p>
-<p>“If necessary, yes!” Northrup shared the primitive instinct
-at that moment. “And now you trot along home, my
-girl, and don’t open your lips to any one.”</p>
-<p>“And you?”</p>
-<p>“I’ll wait for Mr. Larry Rivers here!”</p>
-<p>“My God!” Jan-an burst forth. Then: “There’s a sizable
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span>
-log back of the stove. Yer can fetch a good one with
-that.”</p>
-<p>“Thanks, Jan-an. Go now.”</p>
-<p>Jan-an rose stiffly and shuffled to the door, unlocked it,
-and went into the blackness outside.</p>
-<p>Then Northrup sat down and prepared to wait.</p>
-<p>The stove was rusty and cold, but Rivers had evidently
-had a huge fire on the hearth during the day. Now that he
-noticed, Northrup saw that there were scraps of burned paper
-fluttering like wings of evil omens stricken in their flight.</p>
-<p>He went over to the hearth, poked the ashes, and discovered
-life. He laid on wood, slowly feeding the hungry sparks,
-then he took his old place by the table, blew out the light
-of the lamp and in the dark room, shot by the flares of the
-igniting logs, he resigned himself to what lay before.</p>
-<p>Rivers might return with Maclin. This was a new possibility
-and disconcerting; still it must be met.</p>
-<p>“I may kill a flock of birds by one interview,” Northrup
-grimly thought and then drifted off on Maclin’s trail. The
-ever-recurring wonder about the Point was intensified; he
-must leave that still in doubt.</p>
-<p>“I’ll get the damned thing in my own control, if I can,” he
-concluded at length. “Buy it up for safety; keep still about
-it and watch how Maclin reacts when he knocks against the
-fact, eventually. That will make things safe for the present.”</p>
-<p>But to own the Point meant to hold on to King’s Forest
-just when he had decided to turn from it forever––after setting
-Mary-Clare free.</p>
-<p>The sense of a spiritual overlord for an instant daunted
-Northrup. It was humiliating to realize how he had been
-treading, all along, one course while believing he was going
-another. And then––it was close upon midnight and vitality
-ran sluggish––Northrup became part of one of those curious
-mental experiences that go far to prove how narrow the
-boundary is that lies between the things we understand and
-those that are yet to be understood.</p>
-<p>For some moments––or was it hours?––Northrup was not
-conscious of time or place; not even conscious of himself as
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span>
-a body; he seemed to be a condition, over which a contest of
-emotions swept. He was not asleep. He recalled later, that
-he had kept his eyes on the fire; had once attended to it, casting
-on a heavy log that dimmed its ferocious ardour.</p>
-<p>Where Jan-an had recently sat, struggling with her doubts
-and fears, Mary-Clare seemed to be. And yet it was not so
-much Mary-Clare, visually imagined, as that which had gone
-into the making of the woman.</p>
-<p>The black, fierce night of her birth; her isolated up-bringing
-with a man whose mentality had overpowered his wisdom;
-the contact with Larry Rivers; the forced marriage and the
-determined effort to live up to a bargain made in the dark,
-endured in the dark. It came to Northrup, drifting as he
-was, that a man or woman can go through slime and torment
-and really escape harm. The old, fiery furnace legend was
-based on an eternal truth; that and the lions’ den! It put a
-new light on that peculiar quality of Mary-Clare. She had
-never been burnt or wounded––not the real woman of her.
-That explained the maddening thing about her––her aloofness.
-What would she be now when she stood alone? For
-she was going to stand alone! Then Northrup felt new sensations
-driving across that state which really was himself
-shorn of prejudice and limitations. His relation to Mary-Clare
-was changed!</p>
-<p>There were primitive forces battling for expression in his
-lax hour. Setting the woman free from bondage––what for?</p>
-<p>That was the world-old call. Not free for herself, but free
-that another might claim her. He, sitting there, wanted her.
-She had not altered that by her heroism. Who would help
-her free herself, for herself? Who would cut her loose and
-make no claims? Would it be possible to help her and
-not put her under obligation? Could any one trust a higher
-Power and go one’s way unasking, refusing everything?
-Was there such a thing as freedom for a woman when two
-men were so welded into her life?</p>
-<p>Northrup set his teeth hard together. In the stillness he
-had his fight! And just then a shuffling outside brought
-him back to reality.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></div>
-<p>Rivers came in, not noticing the unlocked door; he had
-been drinking. Northrup’s eyes, accustomed to the gloom,
-marked his unsteady gait; smiled as Larry, unconscious of
-his presence, sank into a chair––the one in which Jan-an
-had sat––reached out toward the lamp, struck a match,
-lighted the wick and then, appalled, fixed his eyes upon
-Northrup!</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XIV' id='CHAPTER_XIV'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
-</div>
-<p>“Hello, Rivers! I’m something of a surprise, eh?”</p>
-<p>“Hell!” The word escaped Rivers as might a cry
-that followed a stunning blow.</p>
-<p>A guilty person, taken by surprise, always imagines the
-worst. Rivers knew what he believed the man before him
-knew, he also believed much that Maclin had insinuated, or
-stated as fact, and he was thoroughly frightened and at a
-disadvantage.</p>
-<p>His nerve was shattered by the recent interview with Mary-Clare;
-the earlier one with Maclin. Drink was befuddling
-him. It was like being in quicksand. He dared not move,
-but he felt himself sinking.</p>
-<p>“Oh! don’t take it too seriously, Rivers.” Northrup felt
-a decent sympathy for the fellow across the table; his fear was
-agonizing. “We might as well get to an understanding
-without a preamble. I reckon there are a lot of things we
-can pass over while we tackle the main job.”</p>
-<p>“You damned–––” Larry spluttered the words, but
-Northrup raised his hand as if staying further waste of time.
-He hated to take too great an advantage of a caged man.</p>
-<p>“Of course, Rivers,” he said, “I wouldn’t have broken
-into your house and read your letters if there wasn’t something
-rather big-sized at stake. So do not switch off on a siding––let’s
-get through with this.”</p>
-<p>The tone and words were like a dash of icy water; Rivers
-moistened his lips and sank, mentally, into that position he
-loathed and yet could not escape. Someone was again getting
-control of him. He might writhe and strain, but he was
-caught once more––caught! caught!</p>
-<p>“In God’s name,” he whispered, “who are you, anyway?
-What are you after?”</p>
-<p>“That’s what I’m here to tell you, Rivers.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></div>
-<p>“Go ahead then, go ahead!” Larry again moistened his
-dry lips––he felt that he was choking. He was ready to turn
-state’s evidence as soon as he saw an opportunity. Debonair
-and clever, crafty and unfaithful, Larry had but one clear
-thought––he would not go behind bars again if one avenue of
-escape remained open!</p>
-<p>Maclin––Maclin’s secret business, loomed high, but at that
-moment Mary-Clare held no part in his desperate fear.</p>
-<p>“What do you want?”</p>
-<p>Then, as if falling into his mood, Northrup said calmly:</p>
-<p>“First, I want the Point.”</p>
-<p>Larry’s jaw dropped; but he felt convinced that it was
-Maclin or he who faced destruction and he meant to let
-Maclin suffer now as Maclin had once permitted him to suffer.
-If there was dirty work at the mines Maclin should pay.
-That was justice––Maclin had made a tool of him.</p>
-<p>“I don’t own the Point.” Rivers heard his own voice
-as if from a distance. He had Mary-Clare’s word that she
-would help him; the letter had done its overpowering work,
-but he had left confession and detail until later. Mary-Clare
-had pleaded for time, and he had come from her with his
-business unsettled.</p>
-<p>“I think after we’ve finished with our talk you can prevail
-upon your wife to sell the Point to me and say nothing
-about it.”</p>
-<p>Rivers clutched the edge of the table. To his inflamed
-brain Northrup seemed to know all and everything––he dared
-not haggle.</p>
-<p>“Who are you?” he repeated stammeringly. “What
-right have you to break into my place and read my papers?
-All I want to know is, what right have you? I cannot be
-expected to––to come to terms unless I know that. I should
-think you might see that.” The bravado was so pitiful and
-weak that Northrup barely repressed a laugh.</p>
-<p>“I don’t want to turn the screws, Rivers,” he said; “and
-of course you have a right to an answer to your question. I
-want the Point because I don’t want Maclin to have it.
-Why he wants it, I’ll find out after. I’m illegally demanding
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span>
-things from you, but there are times when I believe such a
-course is justifiable in order to save everybody trouble. You
-could kick me out, or try to, but you won’t. You could have
-the law on me––but I don’t believe you will want it. Of
-course you know that <i>I</i> know pretty well what I am about or
-I would not put myself in your power. So let’s cut out the
-theatricals. Rivers, this Maclin isn’t any good. Just how
-rotten he is can be decided later. He’s making a fool of
-you and you’ll get a fool’s pay. You know this. I’m going
-to help you, Rivers, if I can. You need all the time there is
-for––getting away!”</p>
-<p>Larry’s face was livid. He was prepared to betray Maclin,
-but the old power held him captive.</p>
-<p>“I dare not!” he groaned.</p>
-<p>“Oh! yes, you dare. Brace up, Rivers. There is more
-than one way to tackle a bad job.” Then, so suddenly that
-it took Rivers’s breath, Northrup swept everything from sight
-by asking calmly: “What did you do with that letter you
-manufactured?”</p>
-<p>So utterly unexpected was this attack, so completely aside
-from what seemed to be at stake, that Rivers concluded everything
-was known; that the very secrets of his innermost
-thoughts were in this man’s knowledge. The quicksands
-all but engulfed him. With unblinking eyes he regarded
-Northrup as though hypnotized.</p>
-<p>“I took it to her,” he gasped.</p>
-<p>“Your wife?”</p>
-<p>“Yes.”</p>
-<p>“She does not suspect?”</p>
-<p>“No.”</p>
-<p>“What did your wife say when she read the letter?”</p>
-<p>“She’s going to help me out.”</p>
-<p>“I see. All right, you’re going to tell her that you want
-the Point and then you’re going to sell it to me. Heathcote
-can fix this up in a few days––the money I pay you will get
-you out of Maclin’s reach. If he makes a break for you,
-I’ll grab him. I guess he’s susceptible to scare, too, if the
-truth were known.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></div>
-<p>“My God! I want a drink.” Larry looked as if he did;
-he rose and reeled over to the closet.</p>
-<p>Northrup regarded his man closely and his fingers reached
-out and drew the scattered papers nearer.</p>
-<p>“Take only enough to stiffen you up, a swallow or two,
-Rivers.”</p>
-<p>Larry obeyed mechanically and when he returned to his
-chair he was firmer.</p>
-<p>“Rivers, I’m going to give you a chance by way of the only
-decent course open to you––or to me. God knows, it’s
-smudgy enough at the best and crooked, but it’s all I can
-muster. I don’t expect you to understand me, or my motives––I’m
-going to talk as man to man, stripped bare. In the
-future you can work it out any way you’re able to. What
-I want at the present is to clear the rubbish away that’s
-cluttering the soul of a woman. That’s enough and you can
-draw what damned conclusions you want to.”</p>
-<p>There was an ugly gleam in Larry’s eyes. Men stripped
-bare show brutish traits, but he felt the straps that were
-binding him close.</p>
-<p>“Go on!” he growled.</p>
-<p>“You are to get your wife to give you this Point, Rivers.
-She may not want to, but you must force her a bit there by
-confessing to her the whole damned truth from start to finish
-about––these!”</p>
-<p>Both men looked at the mass of papers.</p>
-<p>“What all these things represent, you know.” Larry did
-not move; he believed that Northrup knew, too. Knew of
-that year back in the past when his trick had been his ruin.
-“And your simply getting out of sight won’t do. Your wife
-has got to be free––free, do you understand? So long as she
-doesn’t know the truth she’d have pity for you––women are
-like that––she’s going to know all there is to know, and then
-she’ll fling you off!”</p>
-<p>In the hidden depths of Rivers’s nature there heaved and
-roared something that, had Northrup not held the reins,
-would have meant battle to the death. It was not outraged
-honour, love, or justice that blinded and deafened Larry; it
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span>
-was simply the brutish resentment of the savage who, bound
-and gagged, watches a strong foe take all that he had believed
-was his by right of conquest. At that moment he hated
-Mary-Clare as he hated Northrup.</p>
-<p>“You damned scoundrel!” he gasped. “And if I do what
-you suggest, what then?” He meant to force Northrup as
-far as he dared.</p>
-<p>A look that Rivers was never to forget spread over Northrup’s
-face; it was the look of one who had lived through experiences
-he knew he could not make clear. The impossibility
-of making Rivers comprehend him presently overcame
-Northrup. He spread his hands wide and said hopelessly:</p>
-<p>“Nothing!”</p>
-<p>“Like hell, nothing!” Larry was desperate and brutal.
-Under all his bravado rang the note of defeat; terror, and a
-barren hope of escape that he loathed while he clung to it.
-“I don’t know what Maclin’s game is––I’ve played fair.
-Whatever you’ve got on him can’t touch me, when the
-truth’s out.” Rivers was breathing hard; the sweat stood on
-his forehead. “But when it comes to selling your wife for
-hush money–––”</p>
-<p>“Stop that!” Northrup’s face was livid. He wanted to
-throttle Rivers but he could not shake off the feeling of pity
-for the man he had so tragically in his grip.</p>
-<p>There was a heavy pause. It seemed weighted with tangible
-things. Hate; pity; distrust; helpless truth. They became
-alive and fluttering. Then truth alone was supreme.</p>
-<p>“I told you, Rivers, that I knew you couldn’t believe me––you
-cannot. Partly this is due to life, as we men know it;
-partly to your interpretation of it, but at least I owe it to you
-and myself to speak the truth and let truth take care of itself.
-By the code that is current in the world, I might claim all
-that you believe I am after, for I think your wife might learn
-to love me––I know I love her. If I set her free from you,
-permit her to see you as you are, in her shock and relief she
-might turn to me and I might take her and, God helping me,
-make a safe place for her; give her what her hungry soul
-craves, and still feel myself a good sort. That would be the
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span>
-common story––the thing that might once have happened.
-But, Rivers, you don’t know me and you don’t know––your
-wife. I’ve only caught the glimmer of her, but that has
-caused me to grow––humble. She’s got to be free, because
-that is justice, and you and I must give it to her. When you
-free her––it’s up to me not to cage her!” Northrup found
-expression difficult––it all sounded so utterly hopeless with
-that doubting, sneering face confronting him; and his late
-distrust of himself––menacing.</p>
-<p>“Besides, your wife has her own ideals. That’s hard for
-us men to understand. Ideals quite detached from us; from
-all that we might like to believe is good for us. I have my
-own life, Rivers. Frankly, I was tempted to turn my back
-on it and with courage set sail for a new port. I had contemplated
-that, but I’m going back to it and, by God’s help, live
-it!”</p>
-<p>And now Northrup’s face twitched. He waited a moment
-and then went hopelessly on:</p>
-<p>“What the future holds––who knows? Life is a thundering
-big thing, Rivers, if we play it square, and I’m going to
-play it square as it’s given me to see it. You don’t believe
-me?” Almost a wistfulness rang in the words. Larry leaned
-back and laughed a hollow, ugly laugh.</p>
-<p>“Believe you?” he said. “Hell, no!”</p>
-<p>“I thought you couldn’t.” Northrup got up.</p>
-<p>Around the edges of the lowered shades, a gray, drear
-light gave warning of coming day. The effect of Larry’s last
-drink was wearing off––he looked near the breaking point.</p>
-<p>“Rivers, I’ll make a pact with you. Set your wife free––in
-my way. If you do that, I’ll leave the place; never see her
-again unless a higher power than yours or mine decrees otherwise
-in the years on ahead. Take your last chance, man, to
-do the only decent thing left you to do: start afresh somewhere
-else. Forget it all. I know this sounds devilish easy
-and I know it’s devilish hard, but”––and here the iron was
-driven into Rivers’s consciousness––“either you or I set
-Mary-Clare free before”––he hesitated; he wanted to give all
-that he humanly could––“before another forty-eight hours.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></div>
-<p>Larry felt the cold perspiration start on his forehead; his
-stomach grew sick.</p>
-<p>Faint and fear-filled, he seemed to feel Maclin after him;
-Mary-Clare confronting him, smileless, terrifying. On the
-other hand he saw freedom; money; a place in which he could
-breathe, once more, with Maclin’s hands off his throat and
-Mary-Clare’s coldness forgotten.</p>
-<p>“I’ll go to her; I’ll do your hell-work, but give me another
-day.” He gritted his teeth.</p>
-<p>“Rivers, this is Tuesday. On Friday you must be gone,
-and remember this: I’ve got it in my power to set your wife
-free and imprison you and I’ll not hesitate to do it if you try
-any tricks. I’d advise you to keep clear of Maclin and leave
-whiskey alone. You’ll need all the power of concentration
-you can summon.” Then Northrup turned to the table and
-gathered up the scattered papers.</p>
-<p>“What–––” Larry put out a trembling hand.</p>
-<p>“I’ll take charge of these,” Northrup said. “I am going
-to give them to the Heathcotes. They’ll keep them with the
-other papers belonging to your wife.”</p>
-<p>“Curse you!”</p>
-<p>“Good morning, Rivers! I mean it, good morning! You
-won’t believe this either, but it’s so. For the sake of your
-wife and your little girl, I wish you well. When you send
-word to the inn that you are ready for the business deal I’ll
-have the money for you.”</p>
-<p>Then Northrup opened the door and stepped out into the
-chill light of the coming day. He shivered and stumbled
-over a mass of rubbish. A clock struck in a quiet house.</p>
-<p>“Five o’clock,” counted Northrup, and plunging his hands
-in his pockets he made his way to Twombley’s shack.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XV' id='CHAPTER_XV'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Kathryn Morris had her plans completed, and
-if the truth were known she had never felt better
-pleased with herself––and she was not utterly depraved,
-either.</p>
-<p>She was far more the primitive female than was Mary-Clare.
-She was simply claiming what she devoutly believed
-was her own; reclaiming it, rather, for she sagely concluded
-that on this runaway trip Northrup was in great danger and
-only the faith and love of a good woman could save him!
-Kathryn believed herself good and noble.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare had her Place in which she had been fed
-through many lonely, yearning years, but Kathryn had no
-such sanctuary. The dwelling-places of her fellow creatures
-were good enough for her and she never questioned the codes
-that governed them––though sometimes she evaded them!</p>
-<p>After her talk with Helen Northrup, Kathryn did a deal
-of thinking, but she moved cautiously. She had never forgotten
-the address on Northrup’s letter to his mother and she
-believed he was still there. She again looked up road maps,
-located King’s Forest, and made some clever calculations.
-She could go in the motor. The autumn was just the time
-for such a trip. It would be easy to satisfy her aunt, Kathryn
-very well knew. The mere statement that she was going
-to meet Northrup and return with him would account for
-everything and relieve the situation existing at present with
-Sandy Arnold in daily evidence. “And if Brace is not playing
-in some messy puddle in his old Forest, I can get on his
-trail from there,” she reasoned secretly.</p>
-<p>But, for some uncanny cause, Kathryn was confident that
-Northrup <i>was</i> at his first address. It was so like him to creep
-into a hole and be very dramatic and secretive. It was his
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span>
-temperament, Kathryn felt, and she steeled herself against
-him.</p>
-<p>On the morning that Northrup staggered over the rubbish
-of Hunter’s Point toward Twombley’s, Kathryn took her
-place in her limousine––her nice little travelling bag at her
-feet––and viewed with complacency the back of her Japanese
-chauffeur who had absorbed and digested all her directions
-and would be, henceforth, a well-oiled, safe-running part of
-the machinery, without curiosity or opinions.</p>
-<p>They stopped for luncheon at a comfortable road-house,
-rested for an hour, and then went on. It was mid-afternoon
-when the yellow house at the crossroads made its appeal to
-be questioned.</p>
-<p>“I’ll run in and ask the way,” Kathryn explained, and
-slowly went up to the door that once opened so humorously
-to Northrup’s touch. Again the door responded, and a bit
-startled, Kathryn found herself in the presence of a dull-faced
-girl seated by the table apparently doing nothing.</p>
-<p>“I beg your pardon. Really, I did knock––the door just
-opened.” Kathryn was confused and stepped back.</p>
-<p>In all her dun-coloured life Jan-an had never seen anything
-so wonderful as the girl on the doorstep. She was not at all
-sure but that she was one of Noreen’s fiction creatures.
-There was a story that Northrup had told Noreen about
-Eve’s Other Children, and for an instant Jan-an estimated
-the likelihood of the stranger being one––she wasn’t altogether
-wrong, either!</p>
-<p>“What you want?” she asked cautiously. Jan-an was, as
-she put it, “all skew-y,” for the work of the evening before
-had brought her to a more confused state than usual.</p>
-<p>The world was widening––she included Northrup now in
-her circle of protection and she wasn’t sure what Eve’s Other
-Children were capable of doing.</p>
-<p>“I want to find out the way to the inn, Heathcote Inn.”
-Kathryn smiled alluringly.</p>
-<p>“Why don’t you look at the sign?” There was witchery
-about that sign, certainly.</p>
-<p>“I did not see the sign. Please excuse me.” Then, “Do
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span>
-you happen to know if there is a Mr. Northrup at the
-inn?”</p>
-<p>“He sleeps there!” Jan-an looked stupid but honest.
-“Days, he takes to the woods.”</p>
-<p>Jan-an meant, as soon as the unearthly visitor departed,
-to find Northrup and give the alarm. Kathryn thanked the
-girl sweetly and returned to her car. As she did so she saw
-the sign-board as Northrup had before her, and felt a bit
-foolish, but she also recalled that Northrup might be in the
-woods!</p>
-<p>“You may go on to the inn,” she said to her man, “and
-make arrangements. I am going to remain over night and
-start back early to-morrow morning. Explain that I am
-walking and will be there shortly.”</p>
-<p>The quiet man at the door of the car touched his cap and
-took his place at the wheel.</p>
-<p>This was to Kathryn a thrilling adventure. The silence
-and beauty were as novel as any experience she had ever
-known, and her pulses quickened. The solitude of the woods
-was not restful to her, but it stimulated every sense. The
-leaves were dropping from the trees; the sunlight slanted
-through the lacy boughs in exquisite design, and the sky was
-as blue as midsummer. There was a smell of wood smoke
-in the crisp air; the feel of the sweet leaves, underfoot, was
-delightful. Kathryn “scruffed” along, unmindful of her
-high heels and thin silk stockings. She did not know that
-she <i>could</i> be so excited.</p>
-<p>She crossed the road and turned to the hill. An impish
-impulse swayed her. If she came upon Northrup! Well,
-how romantic and thrilling it would be! She fancied his
-surprise; his–––Here she paused. Would it be joy or
-consternation that would betray Northrup?</p>
-<p>Now, as it happened, Mary-Clare had given her morning
-up to the business of the Point and she was worn and super-sensitive.
-An underlying sense of hurry was upon her.
-When she had done all that she could do, she meant to go to
-her Place and lay her tired soul open to the influence that
-flooded the quiet sanctuary. All day this had sustained her.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span>
-She would leave Noreen at the inn; send Jan-an back there,
-and would, after her hour in the cabin, seek Larry out and
-give him what he asked––the Point.</p>
-<p>Through the hours at the inn she had feared Northrup’s
-appearance, but when she learned that he had been away
-all night, she feared <i>for</i> him. Her uneventful days seemed
-gone forever, and yet Mary-Clare knew that soon––oh, very
-soon––there would be to-morrows, just plain to-morrows
-running one into another.</p>
-<p>She was distressed, too, that Larry was to have the Point.
-Aunt Polly had shaken her head over it and remarked that it
-seemed like dropping the Pointers into Maclin’s mouth.
-But Peter reassured her.</p>
-<p>“I see your side, child,” he comforted. “What the old
-doc said <i>goes</i> with you.”</p>
-<p>“But it was Larry, not the doctor, as specified the Point,”
-Polly insisted.</p>
-<p>“All right, all right,” Peter patted Polly’s shoulder.
-“Have it your own way, but I see it at <i>this</i> angle. Give
-Larry what he wants; Maclin has Larry, anyway, but if he
-keeps him here where we can watch what’s going on, I’ll feel
-easier. He’ll show his hand on the Point, take my word for
-it. Larry gallivanting is one thing, Larry with Twombley
-and Peneluna, not to mention us all, is another. You let go,
-Mary-Clare, and see what happens.”</p>
-<p>“Well, I hold”––Aunt Polly was curiously stubborn––“that
-Larry Rivers don’t want that Point any more than a toad
-wants a pocket.”</p>
-<p>“All right, all right!” Peter grew red and his hair sprang
-up. “Put it as you choose. This may bring things to a
-head. I swear the whole world is like a throbbing and
-thundering boil––it’s got to bust, the world and King’s
-Forest. I say, then, let ’em bust and have done with it.”</p>
-<p>At four o’clock the business of the day was over and Mary-Clare
-was ready to start. Then Noreen, with the perversity
-of children, complicated matters.</p>
-<p>“Motherly, let me go, too,” she pleaded.</p>
-<p>“Childie, Mother wants to be alone.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span></div>
-<p>“Why for?”</p>
-<p>“Because, well, I must think.”</p>
-<p>“Then let me stay home with Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>“Dearie, I’m going to send Jan-an back here.”</p>
-<p>“Why for?”</p>
-<p>“Mary-Clare,” Peter broke in, “that child is perishing for
-a paddling.”</p>
-<p>Noreen ran to Peter and hugged him.</p>
-<p>“You old grifferty-giff!” she whispered, falling into her
-absurd jargon, “just gifferting.”</p>
-<p>Then she went back to her mother and said impishly:</p>
-<p>“I know! You don’t want me to see my father!” Then,
-pointing a finger at Mary-Clare, she demanded: “Why
-didn’t you pick a nice father for me when you were picking?”</p>
-<p>The irrelevancy of the question only added to its staggering
-effect. Mary-Clare looked hopelessly at her child.</p>
-<p>“I didn’t have any choice, Noreen,” she said.</p>
-<p>“You mean God gave him to you?”</p>
-<p>“See here, Noreen”––Polly Heathcote rose to the call––“stop
-pestering your mother with silly talk. Come along
-with me, we’ll make a mess of taffy.”</p>
-<p>“All right!” Noreen turned joyously to this suggestion,
-but paused to add: “If God gave my father to us, I s’pose we
-must make the best of it. God knows what He is doing––Jan-an
-says He even knew what He was doing when He
-nearly spoiled her.”</p>
-<p>With this, Aunt Polly dragged Noreen away and Mary-Clare
-left the house haunted by what Noreen had said.
-Children can weave themselves into the scheme of life in a
-vivid manner, and this Noreen had done. In her dealings
-with Larry, Mary-Clare knew she must not overlook
-Noreen.</p>
-<p>Now, if fools rush in where angels fear to tread, surely they
-often rush to their undoing. Kathryn followed the trail to
-the cabin in the woods, breathlessly and in momentary danger
-of breaking her ankles, for she teetered painfully on her
-French heels and humorously wished that when the Lord
-was making hills He had made them all down-grade; but at
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span>
-last she came in sight of the vine-covered shack and stood
-still to consider.</p>
-<p>It was characteristic of Kathryn that she never doubted
-her intuitions until she was left high and dry by their incapacity
-to hold her up.</p>
-<p>“Ho! ho!” she murmured. “So <i>this</i> is where he burrows?
-Another edition of the East Side tenement room where he
-hid while writing his abominable book!”</p>
-<p>Kathryn went nearer, stepping carefully––Northrup might
-be inside! No; the strange room was empty! Kathryn
-recalled the one visit she had made to the tenement while
-Northrup was writing. There had been a terrible woman
-with a mop outside the door there who would not let her pass;
-who had even cast unpleasant suggestions at her––suggestions
-that had made Kathryn’s cheeks burn.</p>
-<p>She had never told Northrup about that visit; she would
-not tell him about this one, either, unless her hand were
-forced. In case he came upon her, she saw, vividly, herself
-in a dramatic act––she would be a beautiful picture of tender
-girlhood nestling in his environment, led to him by sore need
-and loving intuition.</p>
-<p>Kathryn, thus reinforced by her imagination, went boldly
-in, sat down by the crude table, smiled at the Bible lying open
-before her––then she raised her eyes to Father Damien. The
-face was familiar and Kathryn concluded it must be a reproduction
-of some famous painting of the Christ!</p>
-<p>That, and the Bible, made the girl smile. Temperament
-was insanity, nothing less!</p>
-<p>Kathryn looked about for evidences of Northrup’s craft.</p>
-<p>“I suppose he takes his precious stuff away with him.
-Afraid of fires or wild beasts.”</p>
-<p>This latter thought wasn’t pleasant and Kathryn turned
-nervously to the door. As she did so her arm pushed the
-Bible aside and there, disclosed to her ferret glance, were the
-pages of Northrup’s manuscript, duplicate sheets, that Mary-Clare
-had been rereading.</p>
-<p>“Ho! ho!” Kathryn spread them before her and read
-greedily––not sympathetically––but amusedly.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></div>
-<p>There were references to eyes, hair, expressions; even
-“mud-stained breeches.” With elbows on the table, daintily
-gloved hands supporting her chin, Kathryn read and thought
-and wove <i>her</i> plot with Northrup’s words, but half understood,
-lying under her gaze.</p>
-<p>Suddenly Kathryn’s eyes widened––her ears caught a
-sound. Never while she lived was Kathryn Morris to forget
-her sensations of that moment, for they were coloured and
-weighted by events that followed rapidly, dramatically.</p>
-<p>In the doorway stood Mary-Clare, a very embodiment of
-the girl described in the pages on the table. The tall, slim,
-boyish figure in rough breeches, coat, and cap, was a staggering
-apparition. The beauty of the surprised face did not appeal
-to Kathryn, but she was not for one instant deceived as to
-the sex of the person on the threshold, and her none-too-pure
-mind made a wild and dangerous leap to a most unstable
-point of disadvantage.</p>
-<p>The girl in the doorway in some stupefying fashion represented
-the “Fight” and the “Puddle” of Northrup’s adventure.
-If Kathryn thought at all, it was to the effect that she
-had known from start to finish the whole miserable business,
-and she acted upon this unconscious conclusion with never a
-doubt in her mind. The two women, in silence, stared at
-each other for one of those moments that can never be measured
-by rule. During the palpitating silence they were
-driven together, while yet separated by a great space.</p>
-<p>Kathryn’s conclusion drove her on the rocks; Mary-Clare’s
-startled her into a state of clear vision. She recovered her
-poise first. She smiled her perturbing smile; she came in
-and sat down and said quietly:</p>
-<p>“I was surprised. I am still.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn felt a wave of moral repugnance rise to her assistance.
-The clothes might disguise the real state of affairs––but
-the voice betrayed much. This was no crude country
-girl; here was something rather more difficult to handle; one
-need not be pitiful and condoning; one must not flinch.</p>
-<p>“You expected, I suppose, to find Mr. Northrup?”</p>
-<p>When Kathryn was deeply moved she spoke out of the
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span>
-corner of her mouth. It was an unpleasant trick––her lips
-became hard and twisted.</p>
-<p>“Oh! no, I did not, nor anyone else.” The name seemed
-to hurt and Mary-Clare leaned back. “May I ask who you
-are?” she said. Mary-Clare was indignant at she hardly
-knew what; hurt, too, by what was steadying her. She knew
-beyond doubt that the woman near her was one of Northrup’s
-world!</p>
-<p>“I am Miss Morris. I am engaged to be married to Mr.
-Northrup.”</p>
-<p>It were better to cut deep while cutting, and Kathryn’s
-nerve was now set to her task. She unrelentingly eyed her
-victim. She went on:</p>
-<p>“I can see how this must shock you. I sent my car on
-to the inn. I wanted a walk and––well! I came upon this
-place. Fate is such a strange thing.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn ran her words along rather wildly. The silence
-of her companion, the calm way in which she was regarding
-her, were having an unpleasant effect. When Kathryn became
-aware of her own voice she was apt to talk too much––she
-grew confidential.</p>
-<p>“Mr. Northrup’s mother is ill. She needs him. The way
-I have known all this right along is simply a miracle.”</p>
-<p>How much more Kathryn might have said she was never
-to know, for Mary-Clare raised a hand as though to stay the
-inane torrent.</p>
-<p>“What can you possibly mean,” she asked, and her eyes
-darkened, “by knowing <i>this</i> all along? I do not understand––what
-have you known?”</p>
-<p>Then Kathryn sank in a morass.</p>
-<p>“Oh! do be sensible,” she said, and her voice was hard and
-cold. “You must see I have found you out––why pretend?
-When a man like Mr. Northrup leaves home and forgets his
-duties––does not even write, buries himself in such a place as
-this and stays on––what does it mean? What can it possibly
-mean?”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was spared much of what Kathryn was creating
-because she was so far away––so far, far away from the
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span>
-true significance of it all. She was seeing Northrup as Kathryn
-had never seen him; would never see him. She realized
-his danger. It was all so sudden and revolting. Only recently
-had she imagined his past, his environment; she had
-taken him as a wonderful experience in her barren, sterile life,
-but now she considered him as threatened from an unsuspected
-source. A natural revulsion from the type that
-Kathryn Morris represented for a moment oppressed her,
-but she dared not think of that nor of her own right to resent
-the hateful slurs cast upon her. She must do what she could
-for Northrup––do it more or less blindly, crudely, but she
-must go as she saw light and was given time.</p>
-<p>“You are terribly wrong about––everything.” Mary-Clare
-spoke quietly but her words cut like bits of hail. “If you are
-going, as you say, to be Mr. Northrup’s wife, you must try
-and believe what I am saying now for your own sake, but
-more for his.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn tried to say “Insolence!” but could not; she
-merely sat back in her chair and flashed an angry glance that
-Mary-Clare did not heed.</p>
-<p>“Mr. Northrup is writing a beautiful book. The book is
-himself. He does not realize how much it is–––”</p>
-<p>“Indeed!” Kathryn did utter the one word, then added:
-“I suppose he’s read it to you?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, he has.”</p>
-<p>“Here, I suppose? By the fire, alone with you?”</p>
-<p>“No, under the trees, out there.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare turned and glanced at the pure, open woods.
-“It is a beautiful book,” she repeated.</p>
-<p>“Oh! go on, do! Really this is too utterly ridiculous.”
-Kathryn laughed impatiently. “We’ll take for granted the
-beauty of the book.”</p>
-<p>“No, I cannot go on. You would not understand. It does
-not matter. What I want you to know is this––he could not
-do an ugly, low thing. If you wrong him there, you will
-never be forgiven, for it would hurt the soul of him; the part
-of him that no one––not even you who will be his wife––has a
-right to hurt or touch. You must make him <i>believe</i> in women.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span>
-Oh! I wish I could make you see––that was the matter with
-his beautiful book––I can understand now. He did not
-know women; but if you believe what I am saying, all will be
-right; you can make him know the truth. I can imagine
-how you might think wrong––it never occurred to me before––the
-woods, the loneliness, all the rest, but, because everything
-has been right, it makes him all the finer. You do
-believe me! You must! Tell me that you do!”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was desperate. It was like trying to save
-someone from a flood that was carrying him to the rapids.
-The unreality of the situation alone made anything possible,
-but Kathryn suddenly reduced the matter to the deadly
-commonplace.</p>
-<p>“No, I do not believe you,” she said bitterly. “I am a
-woman of the world. I hate to say what I must, but there
-is so little time now, and there will be no time later on, so
-you’ll have to take what you have brought upon yourself.
-This whole thing is pitifully cheap and ordinary––the only
-gleam of difference in it is that you are rather unusual––more
-dangerous on that account. I simply cannot account for you,
-but it doesn’t really interest me. When Mr. Northrup writes
-his books, he always does what he has done now. It’s rather
-brutal and cold-blooded but so it is. He has used you––you
-have been material for him. If there is nothing worse”––Kathryn
-flushed here––“it is because I have come in time.
-May I ask you now to leave me here in Mr. Northrup’s”––Kathryn
-sought the proper word––“study?” she said lamely.
-“I will rest awhile; try to compose myself. If he comes I
-will meet him here. If not, I will go to the inn later.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn rose. So did Mary-Clare. The two girls faced
-each other. The table lay between them, but it seemed the
-width of the whole world.</p>
-<p>“I would have helped you and him, if I could.” Mary-Clare’s
-voice sounded like the “ghost wind” seeking wearily,
-in a lost way, rest. “But I see that I cannot. This is not
-Mr. Northrup’s Place––it is mine. I built it myself––no
-foot but mine––and now yours––has ever entered here. I
-have always come here to––to think; to read. I wonder if
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span>
-I ever will be able to again, for you have done something very
-dreadful to it. You will do it to his life unless God keeps you
-from it.” Mary-Clare was thinking aloud, taking no heed of
-her companion.</p>
-<p>“How dare you!” Kathryn’s face flamed and then turned
-pale as death.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was moving toward the door. When she
-reached it she stood as a hostess might while a guest departed.</p>
-<p>“Please go!” she said simply, but it had the effect of taking
-Kathryn by the shoulders and forcing her outside. With
-flaming face, dyeing the white anger, she flung herself along.
-Once outside she turned, looking cheap and mean for all the
-trappings of her station in life.</p>
-<p>“I want you to understand,” she said, “that you are dealing
-with a woman of the world, not a sentimental fool.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare inclined her head. She did not speak. She
-watched her uninvited guest go down the trail, pass out of
-sight. Then she went back to her chair to recover from the
-shock that had dazed her.</p>
-<p>The atmosphere of the little cabin could not long be polluted
-by so brief an experience as had just occurred, and
-presently Mary-Clare was enfolded by the old comfort and
-vision.</p>
-<p>She could weigh and estimate things now, and this she did
-bravely, justly. Like Northrup in Larry’s cabin the night
-before, she became more a sensitive plate upon which pictures
-flashed, than a personality that was thinking and suffering.
-Such things as had now happened to her, she knew, happened
-in books. Always books, books, for Mary-Clare, and the
-old doctor’s philosophy that gave strength but no assurance.
-The actual relation existing between Northrup and herself
-became a solid and immovable fact. She had not fully
-accepted it before; neither had he. They had played
-with it as they had the golden hours that they would not
-count or measure.</p>
-<p>Nothing mattered but the truth. Mary-Clare knew
-that the wonderful thing had had no part in her decision as
-to Larry––others would not believe that, but she must not
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span>
-be swayed; she knew she had taken her steps faithfully as
-she had seen them––she must not stumble now because of
-any one, anything.</p>
-<p>“It’s what you do to love that counts!” Almost fiercely
-Mary-Clare grasped this. And in that moment Noreen,
-Northrup’s mother, even Larry and the girl who had just departed,
-put in their claim. She must consider them; they
-were all part with Northrup and her.</p>
-<p>“There is nothing for me to do but wait.” Mary-Clare
-seemed to hear herself speaking the words. “I can do nothing
-now but wait. But I will not fear the Truth.”</p>
-<p>The bared Truth stood revealed; before it Mary-Clare did
-not flinch.</p>
-<p>“This is what it has all meant. The happiness, the joy,
-the strange intensity of common things.”</p>
-<p>Then Mary-Clare bowed her head upon her folded arms
-while the warm sunlight came into the doorway and lay full
-upon her. She was absorbed in something too big to comprehend.
-She felt as if she was being born into––a woman!
-The birth-pains were wrenching; she could not grasp anything
-beyond them, but she counted every one and gloried in it.</p>
-<p>The Big Thing that poor Peneluna had known was claiming
-Mary-Clare. It could not be denied; it might be starved but
-it would not die.</p>
-<p>Somewhere, on beyond–––</p>
-<p>But oh! Mary-Clare was young, young, and her beyond was
-not the beyond of Peneluna; or if it were, it lay far, far across
-a desert stretch.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XVI' id='CHAPTER_XVI'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Northrup had cast himself upon Twombley’s hospitality
-with the plea of business. He outlined a
-programme and demanded silence.</p>
-<p>“I’m going to buy this Point,” he confided, “and I’m going
-to go away, Twombley. I’m going to leave things exactly
-as they are until––well, perhaps always. Just consider yourself
-my superintendent.”</p>
-<p>Twombley blinked.</p>
-<p>“Snatching hot cakes?” he asked. “Spoiling Maclin’s
-meal?”</p>
-<p>“Something like that, yes. I don’t know what all this
-means, Twombley, but I’m going to take no chances. I
-want to be in a position to hit square if anything needs hitting.
-If no one knows that I’m in on this deal, I’ll be better
-pleased––but I want you to keep me informed.”</p>
-<p>Twombley nodded.</p>
-<p>About noon Northrup departed, but he did not reach the
-inn until nearly dark.</p>
-<p>Heathcote and Polly had been tremendously agitated by
-the appearance of the Morris car and the Japanese. They
-were in a sad state of excitement. The vicious circle of unbelievable
-happenings seemed to be drawing close.</p>
-<p>“I guess I’ll put the Chinese”––Peter was not careful as
-to particulars––“out in the barn to sleep,” he said, but Polly
-shook her head.</p>
-<p>“No, keep him where you can watch ’im,” she cautioned.
-“There’ll be no sleeping for me while this unchristian business
-is afoot. Peter, what do you suppose the creature eats?”</p>
-<p>“I ain’t studying about that”––Peter shook with nervous
-laughter––“but I’m going to chain Ginger up. I’ve
-heard these Chinese-ers lean to animals.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div>
-<p>“Nonsense, brother! But do you suppose the young
-woman what’s on her way here is a female Chinese?”</p>
-<p>“The Lord knows!” Peter bristled. “I wish Northrup
-would fetch up and handle these items of his. My God!
-Polly, we have been real soft toward this young feller. Appearances
-and our dumb feelings about folks may have let
-us all in for some terrible results. Maclin’s keener than us,
-perhaps.”</p>
-<p>“Now, brother”––Polly was bustling around––“this is no
-time to set my nerves on edge. Here we be; here all this
-mess is. We best hold tight.”</p>
-<p>So Peter and Polly “held tight” while inwardly they feared
-that King’s Forest was in deadly peril and that they had let
-the unsuspecting people in for who could tell––what?</p>
-<p>About five o’clock Kathryn came upon the scene. Her
-late encounter had left her careless as to her physical appearance;
-she was a bit bedraggled and her low shoes and silk hose––a
-great deal of the latter showing––were evidences against
-her respectability.</p>
-<p>“I’m Mr. Northrup’s fiancée,” she explained, and sank into
-a chair by the hearth.</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly did not know what she meant, but in that she
-belonged to Northrup, she must be recognized, and plainly
-she was not Chinese!</p>
-<p>Peter fixed his little, sparkling eyes on his guest and his
-hair rose an inch while his face reddened.</p>
-<p>“Perhaps you better go to your room,” he suggested as he
-might to a naughty child. He wanted to get the girl out of
-his sight and he hated to see Polly waiting upon her. Kathryn
-detected the tone and it roused her. No man ever made
-an escape from Kathryn when he used that note! Her eyes
-filled with tears; her lips quivered.</p>
-<p>“Mr. Northrup’s mother is dying,” she faltered; a shade
-more or less did not count now––“help me to be brave and
-calm for his sake. Please be my friend as you have been
-his!”</p>
-<p>This was a wild guess but it served its purpose. Peter felt
-like a brute and Aunt Polly was all a-tremble.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></div>
-<p>“Dear me!” she said, hovering over the girl, “somehow we
-never thought about Brace’s folks and all that. Just you
-come upstairs and rest and wash. I’ll fetch you some nice
-hot tea. It’s terrible––his mother dying––and you having
-to break it to him.” Polly led Kathryn away and Peter sat
-wretchedly alone.</p>
-<p>When Polly returned he was properly contrite and set to
-work assisting with the evening meal. Polly was silent for
-the most part, but she was deeply concerned.</p>
-<p>“She says she’s going to marry Brace,” she confided.</p>
-<p>“Well, I reckon if she says she is, she is!” Peter grunted.
-“She looks capable of doing it.”</p>
-<p>“Peter, you mustn’t be hard.”</p>
-<p>“I hope to the Lord I can be hard.” Peter looked grim.
-“It’s being soft and easy as has laid us open to––what?”</p>
-<p>“Peter, you give me the creeps.”</p>
-<p>Peter and Polly were in the kitchen when Kathryn came
-downstairs. She had had a bath and a nap. She had resorted
-to her toilet aids and she looked pathetically lovely
-as she crouched by the hearth in the empty room and waited
-for Northrup’s return. Every gesture she made bespoke the
-sweet clinging woman bent on mercy’s task.</p>
-<p>She again saw herself in a dramatic scene. Northrup
-would open the door––that one! Kathryn fixed her eyes on
-the middle door––he would look at her––reel back; call her
-name, and she would rush to him, fall in his arms; then control
-herself, lead him to the fire and break the sad news to him
-gently, sweetly. He would kneel at her feet, bury his face in
-her lap–––</p>
-<p>But while Kathryn was mentally rehearsing this and
-thrilling at the success of her wonderful intuitions, Northrup
-was striding along the road toward the inn, his head bent
-forward, his hands in his pockets. He was feeling rather
-the worse for wear; the consequences of his deeds and promises
-were hurtling about him like tangible, bruising things.</p>
-<p>He was never to see Mary-Clare again! That had sounded
-fine and noble when it meant her freedom from Larry Rivers,
-but what a beastly thing it seemed, viewed from Mary-Clare’s
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span>
-side. What would she think of him? After those hours of
-understanding––those hours weighted with happiness and
-delight that neither of them dared to call by their true names,
-so beautiful and fragile were they! Those hours had been like
-bubbles in which all that was <i>real</i> was reflected. They had
-breathed upon them, watched them, but had not touched
-them frankly. And now–––</p>
-<p>How ugly and ordinary it would all seem if he left without
-one last word!</p>
-<p>The past few weeks might become a memory that would
-enrich and ennoble all the years on ahead or they might,
-through wrong interpretation, embitter and corrode.</p>
-<p>Northrup was prepared to make any sacrifice for Mary-Clare;
-he had achieved that much, but he chafed at the injustice
-to his best motives if he carried out, literally, what he
-had promised. He was face to face with one of those critical
-crises where simple right seemed inadequate to deal with
-complex wrong.</p>
-<p>To leave Mary-Clare free to live whatever life held for
-her, without bitterness or regret, was all he asked. As for
-himself, Northrup had agreed to go back––he thought, as he
-plunged along, in Manly’s terms––to his slit in the wall and
-keep valiantly to it in the future. But he, no matter what
-occurred, would always have a wider, purer vision; while
-Mary-Clare, the one who had made this possible, would–––Oh!
-it was an unbearable thought.</p>
-<p>And just then a rustling in the bushes by the road brought
-him to a standstill.</p>
-<p>“Who’s that?” he asked roughly.</p>
-<p>Jan-an came from behind a clump of sumach. A black
-shawl over her head and falling to her feet made her seem
-part of the darkness. Northrup turned his flashlight upon
-her and only her vague white face was visible.</p>
-<p>“What’s up?” he asked, as Jan-an came nearer. The girl
-no longer repelled him––he had seen behind her mask, had
-known her faithfulness and devotion to them he must leave
-forever. Northrup was still young enough to believe in that
-word––forever.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></div>
-<p>Jan-an came close.</p>
-<p>“Say, there’s a queer lot to the inn. They’re after you!”</p>
-<p>Northrup started.</p>
-<p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p>
-<p>“A toot cart with an image setting up the front––and a
-dressy piece in the glass cage behind.”</p>
-<p>So vivid was the picture that Jan-an portrayed that Northrup
-did not need to question.</p>
-<p>“Lord! but she was togged out,” Jan-an went on, “but
-seemed like I felt she had black wings hid underneath.”
-Poor Jan-an’s flights of fancy always left her muddled. “If
-you want that I should tell her anything while you light
-out–––”</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed.</p>
-<p>“There, there, Jan-an,” he comforted. “Why, this is
-all right. You wanted me to know, in case––oh! but you’re a
-good sort! But see here, everything is safe and sound and”––Northrup
-paused, then suddenly––“to-morrow, Jan-an, I
-want you to go to––to Mary-Clare and tell her I left––good-bye
-for her and Noreen.”</p>
-<p>“Yer––yer going away?” Jan-an writhed under the flashlight.</p>
-<p>“Yes, Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>“Why–––” The girl burst into tears. Northrup tried
-to comfort her. “I’ve been so stirred,” the girl sobbed.
-“I had feelin’s–––”</p>
-<p>“So have I, Jan-an. So have I.”</p>
-<p>They stood in the dark for a moment and then, because
-there was nothing more to say––Northrup went to meet
-Kathryn Morris.</p>
-<p>He went in at one of the end doors, not the middle one,
-and so disturbed Kathryn’s stage setting. He opened and
-closed the door so quietly, walked over to the fire so rapidly,
-that to rise and carry out her programme was out of the
-question, so Kathryn remained on the hearth and Northrup
-dropped into the chair beside her.</p>
-<p>“Well, little girl,” he said––people always lowered their
-voices when speaking to Kathryn––“what is it?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></div>
-<p>Northrup was braced for bad news. Of course Manly had
-given his address to Kathryn––it was something beyond the
-realm of letters and telegrams that had occurred; Kathryn
-had been sent! That Manly was not prime mover in this
-matter could not occur to Northrup.</p>
-<p>“Is it Mother?” he whispered.</p>
-<p>Kathryn nodded and her easy tears fell.</p>
-<p>“Dead?” The word cut like a knife and Kathryn shivered.
-For the first she doubted herself; felt like a bungler.</p>
-<p>“Oh! no, Brace; Brace, do not look like that––really––really––listen
-to me.”</p>
-<p>Northrup breathed heavily.</p>
-<p>“An accident?” he demanded. A hard note rang in his
-words. This turn of affairs was rather more than Kathryn
-had arranged for. It was like finding herself on the professional
-stage when she had bargained for an amateur performance.</p>
-<p>She ran to cover, abandoning all her well-laid plans. She
-knew the advantage of being the first in a new situation, so
-she hurried there.</p>
-<p>“Brace dear, I––you know I have been bearing it all alone
-and I dared <i>not</i> take any further responsibility even to––to
-shield you, dearest, and your work.”</p>
-<p>By some dark magic Northrup felt himself a selfish brute;
-a deserter of duty.</p>
-<p>“Kathryn,” he said, and his eyes fell, “please tell me. I
-suppose I have been unforgivable, but––well, there’s nothing
-to say!” Northrup bowed his head to take whatever blow
-might fall.</p>
-<p>“I may be all wrong, dear. You know, when one is alone,
-is the confidante of another, one as precious as your mother is
-to you and me, it unnerves one––I did not know what to do.
-It may not be anything––but how could I know?”</p>
-<p>“You went to Manly?” Northrup asked this with a sense
-of relief while at the same time Kathryn had risen to a plane
-so high that he felt humbled before her. He was still dazed
-and in the dark, but all was not lost!</p>
-<p>While he had been following his selfish ends, Kathryn had
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span>
-stood guard over all that was sacred to him. He had never
-before realized the strength and purpose of the pretty child
-near him. He reached out and laid his hand on the bowed
-head.</p>
-<p>“No, dear, that was it. Your mother would not let me––she
-thought only of you; you must not be worried, just now––oh!
-you know how she is! But, dearest, she has had, for
-years, a strange and dreadful pain. It does not come often,
-but when it does, it is very, very bad––it comes mostly at
-night––so she has been able to hide it from you; the day following
-she always spoke of it as a headache––you know how
-we have sympathized with her––but never were alarmed?”</p>
-<p>Northrup nodded. He recalled those headaches.</p>
-<p>“Well, a week ago she called me to come to her––she
-really looked quite terrible, Brace. I was so frightened, but
-of course I had to hide my feelings. She says––oh! Brace,
-she says there is––way back in the family–––”</p>
-<p>“Nonsense!” Northrup got up and paced the floor.
-“Manly has told me that was sheer nonsense. Go on,
-Kathryn.”</p>
-<p>“Well, dear, she was weak and <i>so</i> pitiful and she––she
-confided things to me that I am sure she would not have,
-had she been her brave, dear self.”</p>
-<p>“What kind of things?”</p>
-<p>It was horrible, but Northrup was conscious of being in a
-net where the meshes were wide enough to permit of his
-seeing freedom but utterly cutting him off from it.</p>
-<p>What he had subconsciously hoped the night before, what
-his underlying strength had been founded upon, he would
-never be able to know, for now he felt every line of escape
-from, heaven knew what, closing upon him; permitting no
-choice, wiping out all the security of happiness; leaving––chaff.
-For a moment, he forgot the question he had just
-asked, but Kathryn was struggling to answer it.</p>
-<p>“About you and me, Brace. Oh! help me. It is so hard;
-so hard, dear, to tell you, but you must realize that because
-of the things she said, I estimated the seriousness of her condition
-and I cannot spare myself! Brace, she knows that
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span>
-you and I––have been putting off our marriage because of
-her!”</p>
-<p>There was one mad moment when Northrup felt he was
-going to laugh; but instantly the desire fled and ended in
-something approaching a groan.</p>
-<p>“Go on!” he said quietly, and resumed his seat by the
-fire.</p>
-<p>“I think we have been careless rather than thoughtful,
-dear. Older people can be hurt by such kindness––if they
-are wonderful and proud like your mother. She cannot
-bear to––to be an obstacle.”</p>
-<p>“An obstacle? Good Lord!” Northrup jammed a log to
-its place and so relieved his feelings.</p>
-<p>“Well, my dearest, you must see the position I was placed
-in?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Kathryn, I do. You’re a brick, my dear, but––how
-did you know where I was, if you did not go to Manly?”</p>
-<p>Kathryn looked up, and all the childlike confidence and
-sweetness she could summon lay in her lovely eyes.</p>
-<p>“Dearest, I remembered the address on the letter you sent
-to your mother. Because I wanted to keep this secret about
-our fear from her––I came alone and I knew that people here
-could direct me if you had gone away. I was prepared to
-follow you––anywhere!”––Kathryn suddenly recalled her
-small hand-bag upstairs––“Brace, I was frightened, bearing
-it alone. I <i>had</i> to have you. Oh! Brace.”</p>
-<p>Northrup found the girl in his arms. His face was against
-hers––her tears were falling and she was sobbing helplessly.
-The net, it was a purse net now, drew close.</p>
-<p>“Brace, Brace, we must make her happy, together. I will
-share everything with you––I have been so heedless; so
-selfish––but my life is now yours and––hers!”</p>
-<p>Guilt filled the aroused soul of Northrup. As far as in
-him lay he––surrendered! With characteristic swiftness
-and thoroughness he closed his eyes and made his dash!</p>
-<p>“Kathryn, you mean you will marry me; you will––do
-this for me and her?”</p>
-<p>“Yes.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></div>
-<p>Just then Aunt Polly came into the room. Her quick,
-keen eye took in the scene and her gentle heart throbbed in
-sympathy. She came over to the two and hovered near
-them, patting Northrup’s shoulder and Kathryn’s head indiscriminately.
-She crooned over them and finally got them
-to the dining-room and the evening meal.</p>
-<p>An early start for the morrow was planned, and by nine
-o’clock Kathryn went to her room.</p>
-<p>Northrup was restless and nervous. There was much to
-be done before he left. He must see Rivers and finish that
-business––it might have to be hurried, but he felt confident
-that by raising Larry’s price he could secure his ends. And
-then, because of the finality in the turn of events, Northrup
-desperately decided upon a compromise with his conscience.
-Strange as it now seemed he had, before his talk with Kathryn,
-believed that he was done forever with his experience,
-but he realized, as he reconsidered the matter, that hope, a
-strange, blind hope, had fluttered earlier but that now it
-was dead; dead!</p>
-<p>Since that was the case, he would do for a dead man––Northrup
-gruesomely termed himself that––what the dead
-man could not do for himself. Surely no one, not even
-Rivers, would deny him that poor comfort, if all were known.
-He would write a note to Mary-Clare, go early in the morning
-to that cabin on the hill and leave it––where her eye
-would fall upon it when she entered.</p>
-<p>That the cabin was sacred to Mary-Clare he very well
-knew; that she shared it with no one, he also knew; but she
-would forgive his trespassing, since it was his only way in
-honour out––out of her life.</p>
-<p>Very well, then! At nine-thirty he decided to go over to
-the Point again and, if he found Larry, finish that business.
-If Larry were not there, he would lie in wait for him and gain
-his ends. So he prepared for another night away from the
-inn, if necessary.</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly, hovering on the outskirts of all that was going
-on, materialized, as he was about leaving the house like a
-thief of the night.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></div>
-<p>“Now, son, must you go out?” she pleaded, her spectacles
-awry on the top of her head, her eyes unnaturally bright.</p>
-<p>“Yes, Aunt Polly.” Northrup paused, the knob of the
-door in hand, and looked down at the little creature.</p>
-<p>“Is it fair, son?” Aunt Polly was savagely thinking of the
-gossip of the Forest––she wildly believed that Northrup might
-be going to the yellow house. The hurry of departure might
-blind him to folly.</p>
-<p>“Fair––fair to whom, Aunt Polly?” Northrup’s brows
-drew together.</p>
-<p>“To yourself, son. Bad news and the sudden going
-away–––” the old voice choked. It was hard to use an
-enemy’s weapon against one’s own, even to save him.</p>
-<p>“Aunt Polly, look at me.” This was spoken sternly.</p>
-<p>“I <i>am</i> looking, son, I am looking.” And so she was.</p>
-<p>“I’m going out, because I must, if I am to do my duty by
-others. You must trust me. And I want you to know that
-all my future life will be the stronger, the safer, because of
-my weeks here with you all! I came to you with no purpose––just
-a tired, half-sick man, but things were taken out of my
-hands. I’ve been used, and I don’t know myself just yet
-for what. I’m going to have faith and you must have it––I’m
-with you, not against you. Will you kiss me, Aunt
-Polly?”</p>
-<p>From his height Northrup bent to Polly’s littleness, but
-she reached up to him with her frail tender arms and seemed
-to gather him into her denied motherhood. Without a word
-she kissed him and––let him go!</p>
-<p>Northrup found Rivers in his shack. He looked as if he
-had been sitting where Northrup left him the night before.
-He was unkempt and haggard and there were broken bits of
-food on the untidy table, and stains of coffee.</p>
-<p>“I’m going away, Rivers,” Northrup explained, sitting
-opposite Larry. “I couldn’t wait to get word from you––my
-mother is ill. I must put this business through in a
-sloppy way. It may need a lot of legal patching after, but
-I’ll take my chances. Heathcote has straightened out your
-wife’s part––the Point is yours. I’ve made sure of that.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span>
-Now I’m going to write out something that I think will hold––anyway,
-I want your signature to it and to a receipt for
-money I will give you. What we both know will after all
-be the real deed, for if you don’t keep your bargain, I’ll come
-back.”</p>
-<p>Larry stared dully, insolently at Northrup but did not
-speak. He watched Northrup writing at the table where the
-food lay scattered. Then, when the clumsy document was
-finished, Northrup pushed it toward Rivers.</p>
-<p>“Sign there!” he said.</p>
-<p>“I’ll sign where I damn please.” Larry showed his teeth.
-“How much you going to give me for my woman?”</p>
-<p>For a moment the sordid room seemed to be swirling in a
-flood of red and yellow. Northrup got on his feet.</p>
-<p>“I don’t want to kill you,” he muttered, “but you deserve
-it.”</p>
-<p>“Ah, have it your own way,” Larry cringed. The memory
-of the night before steadied him. He’d been drinking heavily
-and was stronger––and weaker, in consequence.</p>
-<p>“How much is––is the price for the Point?” he mumbled.</p>
-<p>Northrup mastered his rage and sat down. Feeling sure
-that Rivers would dicker he said quietly:</p>
-<p>“A thousand dollars.”</p>
-<p>“Double that!” Rivers’s eyes gleamed. A thousand
-dollars would take him out of Maclin’s reach, but all that he
-could get beyond would keep him there longer.</p>
-<p>“Rivers, I expected this, so I’ll name my final price.
-Fifteen hundred! Hurry up and sign that paper.”</p>
-<p>Larry signed it unsteadily but clearly.</p>
-<p>“Have you seen your wife, Rivers?” Northrup passed a
-cheque across the table.</p>
-<p>“I’m going to see her to-morrow––I have up to Friday,
-you know.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, that’s true. I must go to-morrow morning, but I’ll
-make sure you keep to your bargain.”</p>
-<p>“And––you?” Rivers’s lips curled.</p>
-<p>“I have kept my bargain.”</p>
-<p>“And you’ll get away without talking to my wife?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></div>
-<p>Northrup’s eyes grew dark.</p>
-<p>“Yes. But, Rivers, if I find that you play loose in any
-way, by God, I’ll settle with you if I have to scour the earth
-for you. Remember, she is to know everything––everything,
-and after that––you’re to get out––quick.”</p>
-<p>“I’ll get out all right.”</p>
-<p>“I hope, just because of your wife and child, Rivers, that
-you’ll straighten up; that something will get a grip on you
-that will pull you up––not down further. No man has a
-right to put the burden of his right living or his going to hell
-on a woman’s conscience, but women like your wife often
-have to carry that load. You’ve got that in you which,
-put to good purpose, might–––”</p>
-<p>“Oh! cut it out.” Rivers could bear no more. “I’m going
-to get out of your way––what more in hell do you want?”</p>
-<p>“Nothing.” Northrup rose, white-lipped and stern.
-“Nothing. We are both of us, Rivers, paying a big price
-for a woman’s freedom. It’s only just––we ought not to want
-anything more.”</p>
-<p>With that Northrup left the shack and retraced his lonely
-way to the inn.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XVII' id='CHAPTER_XVII'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Northrup arose the next morning before daylight and
-tried to write a note to Mary-Clare. It was the most
-difficult thing he had ever undertaken. If he could
-speak, it would be different, but the written word is so rigid.</p>
-<p>This last meeting had been so distraught, they had beaten
-about so in the dark, that his uncertainty as to what really
-was arrived at confused him.</p>
-<p>Could he hope for her understanding if without another word
-he left her to draw her own conclusions from his future life?</p>
-<p>She would be alone. She could confide in no one. She
-might, in the years ahead, ascribe his actions to the lowest
-motives, and he had, God knew, meant her no harm.</p>
-<p>Then, as it was always to be in the time on ahead, Mary-Clare
-herself seemed to speak to him.</p>
-<p>“It is what one does to love that matters.” That was
-it––“What one does.”</p>
-<p>With this fixed in his mind Northrup wrote:</p>
-<blockquote>
-<p>I want you to know that I love you. I believe you love me.
-We couldn’t help this––but you have taught me how not to kill it.</p>
-<p>There are big, compelling things in your life and mine that cannot
-be ignored––you showed me that, too. I do not know how I am to
-go on with my old life––but I am going to try to live it––as you will
-live yours.</p>
-<p>There was a mad moment on the hill that last day we met––you
-saved it.</p>
-<p>There is a greater thing than love––it is truth, and that is why
-I must bid you good-bye––in this way.</p>
-</blockquote>
-<p>Crude and jagged as the thought was, Northrup, in rereading
-his words, did not now shrink from Mary-Clare’s
-interpretation. She <i>would</i> understand.</p>
-<p>After an early breakfast, at which Kathryn did not
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span>
-appear––Aunt Polly had carried Kathryn’s to her room––Northrup
-went out to see that everything was ready for the journey
-home. To his grim delight––it seemed almost a postponed
-sentence––he discovered the chauffeur under the car and in a
-state of <i>calm</i> excitement. In broken but carefully selected
-English the man informed Northrup that he could repair
-what needed repair but must have two hours or more in
-which to do it.</p>
-<p>With his anxiety about his mother lessened, Northrup received
-this news with a sense of relief. Once the car was in
-commission they could make good the loss of time. So
-Northrup started upon his errand, taking the roundabout
-trail he had broken for himself, and which led to that point
-back of the cabin from which he had often held his lonely
-but happy vigils.</p>
-<p>Over this trail, leaf-strewn and wet, Northrup now went.
-He did not pause at the mossy rock that had hitherto marked
-his limit. He sternly strode ahead over unbroken underbrush
-and reached the cabin.</p>
-<p>The door was open; without hesitation he went in, laid
-his note on the table, put the Bible over it, and retraced his
-steps. But once at the clump of laurel a weak, human
-longing overcame him. Why not wait there and see what
-happened? There was an hour or more to while away before
-the car would be in readiness. Again Northrup had that
-sense of being, after all, an atom in a plan over which he had
-small control.</p>
-<p>So far he could go, no further! After that? Well, after
-that he would never weaken. He sat down on the rock, held
-the branches aside so that the cabin was in full view and,
-unseen himself, waited.</p>
-<p>Now it happened that others besides Northrup were astir
-that morning. Larry, shaved and washed, having had a
-good breakfast, provided by Peneluna and served by Jan-an,
-straightened himself and felt more a man than he had felt
-for many a day. He gave Jan-an money for Peneluna and
-a dollar for herself. The girl stared at the bill indicated as
-hers and pushed it back.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></div>
-<p>“Take it, Jan-an,” Larry urged. “I’d like to remember
-you taking it.”</p>
-<p>The girl, thus urged, hid the money in her bosom and
-shuffled out.</p>
-<p>Larry was sober and keen. He was going to carry out
-Northrup’s commands, but in his own way! He meant to
-lay a good deal more in waste than perhaps any one would
-suspect. And yet, Larry, sober and about to cut loose from
-all familiar things, had sensations that made him tremble
-as he stumbled over the débris of the Point.</p>
-<p>Never before had he been so surely leaving everything as
-he was now. In the old days of separation, there had always
-been <i>home</i> in the background. During that hideous year
-when he was shut behind bars, his thoughts had clung to
-home, to his father! He had meant then to go back and
-reform! Poor Larry! he had nothing to reform, but he had
-not realized that. Then Maclin caught him and instead of
-being reformed, Larry was moulded into a new shape––Maclin’s
-tool. Well, Maclin was done with, too! Larry
-strode on in the semi-darkness. The morning was dull and
-deadly chill.</p>
-<p>Traditional prejudice rose in Rivers and made him hard
-and bitter. He felt himself a victim of others’ misunderstanding.</p>
-<p>If he had had a––mother! Never before had this emotion
-swayed him. He knew little or nothing of his mother.
-She had been blotted out. But he now tried to think that
-all this could never have happened to him had he not been
-deprived of her. In the cold, damp morning Larry reverted
-to his mother over and over again. Good or bad, she would
-have stood by him! There was no one now; no one.</p>
-<p>“And Mary-Clare!” At this his face set cruelly. “She
-should have stood by me. What was her sense of duty,
-anyway?”</p>
-<p>She had always eluded him, had never been his. Larry
-rebelled at this knowledge. She had been cold and demanding,
-selfish and hard. No woman has a right to keep herself
-from her husband. All would have been well if she had done
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span>
-her part. And Noreen was his as well as Mary-Clare’s.
-But she was keeping everything. His father’s house; the
-child; the money!</p>
-<p>By this time Larry had lashed himself into a virtuous fury.
-He felt himself wronged and sinned against. He was prepared
-to hurt somebody in revenge.</p>
-<p>Larry went to the yellow house. It was empty. There
-was a fire on the hearth and a general air of recent occupancy
-and a hurried departure. A fiendish inspiration came to
-Rivers. He would go to that cabin of Mary-Clare’s and wait
-for her. She should get her freedom there, where she had
-forbidden him to come. He’d enter now and have his say.</p>
-<p>Larry took a short cut to the cabin and by so doing reached
-it before Mary-Clare, who had taken Noreen to Peneluna’s––not
-daring to take her to the inn.</p>
-<p>Larry came to within a dozen yards of the cabin when he
-stopped short and became rigid. He was completely screened
-from view, but, for the moment, he did not give this a
-thought. There was murder in his heart, and only cowardice
-held him back.</p>
-<p>Northrup was coming out of the cabin! Rivers had not
-realized that he trusted Northrup, but he had, and he was
-betrayed! All the bitterness of defeat swept over him and
-hate and revenge alone swayed him. Suddenly he grew
-calm. Northrup had passed from sight; the white mists of
-the morning were rolling and breaking. He would wait––if
-Mary-Clare was in the cabin, and Larry believed she was,
-he could afford to bide his time. Indeed, it was the only
-thing to do, for in a primitive fashion Rivers decided to deal
-only with his woman, and he meant to have a free hand. He
-would have no fight for what was not worth fighting for––he
-would solve things in his own way and be off before any one
-interfered.</p>
-<p>And then he turned sharply. Someone was advancing
-from the opposite direction. It was Mary-Clare. She came
-up her own trail, emerging from the mists like a shadowy
-creature of the woods; she walked slowly, wearily, up to the
-Place and went inside with the eyes of two men full upon her.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></div>
-<p>At that moment the sun broke through the mists; it flooded
-the cabin and touched warmly the girl who sank down beside
-the table. Instantly her glance fell upon the note by the
-Bible. She took it up, read it once, twice, and––understood
-more, far more than Northrup could guess.</p>
-<p>Perhaps a soul awakening from the experience of death
-might know the sensation that throbbed through the consciousness
-of Mary-Clare at that moment. The woman of her
-had been born in the cabin the day before, but the birth pains
-had exhausted her. She had not censured Northrup in her
-woman-thought; she had believed something of what now
-she knew, and understood. She raised the note and held it
-out on her open palms––almost it seemed as if she were showing
-it to some unseen Presence as proof of all she trusted.
-With the sheet of paper still held lightly, Mary-Clare walked
-to the door of her cabin. She had no purpose in mind––she
-wanted the air; the sunlight. And so she stood in the full
-glow, her face uplifted, her arms outspread.</p>
-<p>Northrup from his hidden place watched her for a moment,
-bowed his head, and turned to the inn. Larry watched her;
-in a dumb way he saw revealed the woman he had never
-touched; never owned. Well, he would have his revenge.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare turned back after her one exalted moment;
-she took her place by the table and spread again the note
-before her. She did not notice the footsteps outside until
-Larry was on the threshold and then she turned, gripping,
-intuitively, the sheet of paper in her hand. Larry saw the
-gesture, saw the paper, and half understood.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare looked at her husband distantly but not unkindly.
-She did not resent his being there––the Place was no
-longer hers alone.</p>
-<p>“A nice lot you are!” Rivers blurted this out and came
-in. He sat down on the edge of the table near Mary-Clare.
-“What’s that?” he demanded, his eyes on the note.</p>
-<p>“A letter.”</p>
-<p>“Full of directions, I suppose?” Larry smiled an ugly,
-keen smile.</p>
-<p>“Directions? What do you mean?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></div>
-<p>“I guess that doesn’t matter, does it?” he asked. “Don’t
-let us waste time. See here, my girl, the game’s up! Now
-that letter––I want that. It will be evidence when I need it.
-He’s broken his bargain. I mean to take the advantage I’ve
-got.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare stared at Rivers in helpless amazement––but
-her fingers closed more firmly upon the note.</p>
-<p>“When he––he bought you––he promised me that he’d
-never see you again. He wanted you free––for yourself.
-Free!” Larry flung his head back and indulged in a harsh
-laugh. “I got the Point––he bought the Point and you!
-Paid high for them, too, but he’ll pay higher yet before I get
-through with him.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare sat very quiet; her face seemed frozen into an
-expression of utter bewilderment. That, and the memory
-of her as she had stood at the door a few moments ago, maddened
-Rivers and he ruthlessly proceeded to batter down all
-the background that had stood, in Mary-Clare’s life, as a
-plea for her loyalty, faith, and gratitude.</p>
-<p>“Do you know why my father kept me from home and put
-you in my place?” he demanded.</p>
-<p>“No, Larry.”</p>
-<p>“He was afraid of me––afraid of himself. He left me to
-others––and others helped me along. Others like Maclin
-who saw my ability!” Again Larry gave his mirthless, ugly
-laugh and this time Mary-Clare shuddered.</p>
-<p>She made no defence for her beloved doctor––the father of
-the man before her. She simply braced herself to bear the
-blows, and she shuddered because she intuitively felt that Larry
-was in no sense realizing his own position; he was so madly
-seeking to destroy that of others.</p>
-<p>“I’m a counterfeiter––I’ve been in prison––I’ve–––” but
-here Rivers paused, struck at last by the face opposite him.
-It was awakening; it flushed, quivered, and the eyes darkened
-and widened. What was happening was this––Larry was
-setting Mary-Clare free in ways that he could not realize.
-Every merciless blow he struck was rending a fetter apart.
-He was making it possible for the woman, close to him physically,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span>
-to regard him at last as––a man; not a husband that
-mistaken loyalty must shield and suffer for. He was placing
-her among the safe and decent people, permitting her at last
-to justify her instincts, to trust her own ideals.</p>
-<p>And from that vantage ground of spiritual freedom, released
-from all false ties of contract and promise, Mary-Clare
-looked at Larry with divine pity in her eyes. She seemed
-to see the veiled form of his mother beside him––they were
-like two outcasts defiantly accusing her, but toward whom
-she could well afford to feel merciful.</p>
-<p>“Don’t, Larry”––Mary-Clare spoke at last and there were
-tears in her eyes––“please don’t. You’ve said enough.”</p>
-<p>She felt as though she were looking at the dying face of a
-suicide.</p>
-<p>“Yes, I think I have said enough about myself except
-this: I wrote all those letters you––you had. Not one was
-my father’s––they were counterfeits––there are more ways
-than one of––of getting what you want.”</p>
-<p>Again Mary-Clare shuddered and sank into the dull state
-of amazement. She had to think this over; go slowly. She
-looked at Larry, but she was not listening. At last she asked
-wonderingly:</p>
-<p>“You mean––that he did not want me to marry you?
-And that last night––he did not say––what you said you
-understood?”</p>
-<p>Larry laughed––but it was not the old assured laugh of
-brutality––he had stripped himself so bare that at last he was
-aware of his own nakedness.</p>
-<p>“Oh!” The one word was like a blighting shaft that
-killed all that was left to kill.</p>
-<p>Larry put forth a pitiful defence.</p>
-<p>“You’ve been hard and selfish, Mary-Clare. Another
-sort might have helped me––I got to caring, at first. You’ve
-taken everything and given mighty little. And now, when
-you see a chance of cutting loose, you wipe me off the map
-and betray me into the hands of a man who has lied to me,
-made sport of me, and thinks he’s going to get away with it.
-Now listen. I want that letter. When I have used up
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span>
-the hush money I have now, I’m coming back for more––more––and
-you and he are going to pay.”</p>
-<p>By this time Larry had worked himself again into a
-blind fury. He felt this but could not control it. He had
-lost nearly everything––he must clutch what was left.</p>
-<p>“Give that to me!” he commanded, and reached for the
-clenched hand on the table.</p>
-<p>“No, Larry. If you could understand, I would let you
-have it, but you couldn’t! Nothing matters now between
-you and me. I am free, free!”</p>
-<p>The radiant face, the clenched hand, blinded Larry.
-Sitting again on the edge of the table, looking down at the
-woman who had eluded him, was defying him, he struck out!
-He had no thought at all for the moment––something was
-in his way; before he could escape he must fling it aside.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare drooped; dropped from her chair and lay quiet
-upon the floor. Her hand, holding the paper, was spread
-wide, the note was unprotected.</p>
-<p>For a moment Larry gazed at his work with horrified
-eyes. Never before had he meted physical brutality to man
-or woman. He was a coward at heart, and he was thoroughly
-cowed as he stood above the girl at his feet. He
-saw that she was breathing; there was almost at once a
-fluttering of the lids. There were two things for a coward
-to do––seize the note and make his escape.</p>
-<p>Larry did both and Mary-Clare took no heed.</p>
-<p>A little red squirrel came into the sunny room and darted
-about; the sunlight grew dim, for there was a storm rising,
-and the clouds were heavy on its wings.</p>
-<p>And while the deathly silence reigned in the cabin, Northrup
-and Kathryn were riding rapidly from the inn. As the
-car passed the yellow house, Kathryn pathetically drew down
-the shades––her eyes were tear-filled.</p>
-<p>“Brace, dear,” she whispered, “I’m so afraid. The
-storm; everything frightens me. Take me in your arms.”</p>
-<p>And at that moment Kathryn believed that she loved
-Northrup, had saved him from a great peril, and she was
-prepared to act the part, in the future, of a faithful wife.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII' id='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Noreen and Jan-an late that afternoon returned to
-the yellow house. They were both rather depressed
-and forlorn, for they knew that Northrup was gone
-and had taken away with him much that had stimulated
-and cheered.</p>
-<p>Finding the yellow house empty, the two went up the
-opposite hill and leisurely made their way to the brook that
-marked the limit of free choice. Here they sat down, and
-Noreen suggested that they sing Northrup’s old songs and
-play some of his diverting games. Jan-an solemnly agreed,
-shaking her head and sighing as one does who recalls the
-dead.</p>
-<p>So Noreen piped out the well-beloved words of “Green
-Jacket” and, rather heavily, acted the jovial part. But
-Jan-an refused to be comforted. She cried distractedly, and
-always when Jan-an wept she made such abnormal “faces”
-that she disturbed any onlookers.</p>
-<p>“All right!” Noreen said at last. “We’ll both do something.”</p>
-<p>This clever psychological ruse brought Jan-an to her normal
-state.</p>
-<p>“Let’s play Eve’s Other Children,” Noreen ran on. “I’ll
-be Eve and hide my children, the ones I don’t like specially.
-You be God, Jan-an.”</p>
-<p>This was a great concession on Noreen’s part, for she revelled
-in the leading rôle, as it gave full play to her dramatic
-sense of justice.</p>
-<p>However, the play began with Noreen hiding some twisted
-and dry sticks under stones and in holes in trees and then
-proceeding to dress, in gay autumn leaves, more favoured
-twigs. She crooned over them; expatiated upon their loveliness,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span>
-and, at a given signal, poor Jan-an clumsily appeared
-and in most unflattering terms accused Noreen of depravity
-and unfaithfulness, demanding finally, in most picturesque
-and primitive language, the hidden children. At this point
-Noreen rose to great heights. Fear, remorse, and shame
-overcame her. She pleaded and denied; she confessed and at
-last began, with the help of her accuser, to search out the
-neglected offspring. So wholly did the two enjoy this part
-of the game that they forgot their animosity, and when the
-crooked twigs were discovered Jan-an became emphatically
-allegorical with Noreen and ruthlessly destroyed the “other
-children” on the score that they weren’t worth keeping.</p>
-<p>But the interest flagged at length, and both Jan-an and
-Noreen became silent and depressed.</p>
-<p>“I’ve got feelin’s!” Jan-an remarked, “in the pit of my
-stomach. Besides, it’s getting cold and a storm’s brewing.
-Did yer hear thunder?”</p>
-<p>Noreen was replacing her favoured children in the crannies
-of the rocks, but she turned now to Jan-an and said wistfully:</p>
-<p>“I want Motherly.”</p>
-<p>“She’s biding terrible long up yonder.”</p>
-<p>“P’raps, oh! Jan-an, p’raps that lady you were telling about
-has taken Motherly!”</p>
-<p>Noreen became agitated, but Jan-an with blind intuition
-scoffed.</p>
-<p>“No; whatever she took, she wouldn’t take her! But she
-took Mr. Northrup, all right. Her kind takes just fierce! I
-sense her.”</p>
-<p>Noreen looked blank.</p>
-<p>“Tell me about the heathen, Jan-an,” she said. “What
-<i>did</i> he eat when Uncle Peter wouldn’t let him have Ginger?”</p>
-<p>“I don’t know, but I did miss two rabbits.”</p>
-<p>“Live ones, Jan-an?” Noreen’s eyes widened.</p>
-<p>“Sure, live ones. Everything’s live till it’s killed. I
-ain’t saying he et ’em ’live.”</p>
-<p>“Maybe the rabbits got away,” Noreen suggested hopefully.</p>
-<p>“The Lord knows! Maybe they did.” Then Jan-an
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span>
-added further information: “I guess your father has gone
-for good!”</p>
-<p>“Took?” Noreen was not now overcome by grief.</p>
-<p>“No, just gone. He gave me a dollar.”</p>
-<p>“A dollar, Jan-an? A whole dollar?” This was almost
-unbelievable. Jan-an produced the evidence from her loose
-and soiled blouse.</p>
-<p>“He left his place terribly tidy, too,” she ran on, “and
-when a man does that Peneluna says it’s awful suspicious.”</p>
-<p>“Jan-an, you wait here––I’m going up to the cabin!”</p>
-<p>Noreen stood up defiantly. She was possessed by one of
-her sudden flashes of inspiration.</p>
-<p>“Yer ain’t been called,” warned Jan-an.</p>
-<p>“I know, but I <i>must</i> go. I’ll only peep in. Maybe
-Motherly took a back way to the inn.”</p>
-<p>To this Jan-an had nothing to say and she sat down upon a
-wet rock to wait, while Noreen darted up the trail like a small,
-distracted animal of the woods.</p>
-<p>It was growing dark and heavy with storm; the thunder was
-more distinct––there was a hush and a breathless suggestion of
-wind held in check by a mighty force.</p>
-<p>Noreen reached the shack and peeped in at the vine-covered
-window. What she saw marked a turning-point in
-the child’s life.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was still stretched upon the floor. Several
-things had happened to her since Larry fled; she was never
-clearly to account for them.</p>
-<p>She had been conscious and had drifted into unconsciousness
-several times. She had tried, she recalled that later,
-to get to the couch, but her aching head had driven the impulse
-into oblivion. She had fallen back on the floor. Then,
-again, she roused and there was blood––near her. Not
-much, but she had not noticed it before, and she must have
-fainted. Again, she could remember thinking of Noreen, of
-the others; and the necessity of keeping forever hidden the
-thing that had happened.</p>
-<p>But again Mary-Clare, from exhaustion or faintness, slipped
-into silence, and so Noreen found her!</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></div>
-<p>The child went swiftly into the still cabin and knelt beside
-her mother. She was quite calm, at first, and unafraid.
-She took the dear head on her lap and patted the white cheek
-where the little cut had let out the blood––there was dry
-blood on it now and that caused Noreen to gasp and cry
-out.</p>
-<p>Back and forth the child swayed, mumbling comforting
-words; and then she spoke louder, faster––her words became
-wild, disconnected. She laughed and cried and called for
-every one of her little world in turn.</p>
-<p>Uncle Peter!</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly!</p>
-<p>Peneluna! And then Jan-an! Jan-an!</p>
-<p>As she sobbed and screamed Mary-Clare’s eyes opened
-and she smiled. At that moment Jan-an came stumbling
-into the room.</p>
-<p>One look and the dull, faithful creature became a machine
-carrying out the routine that she had often shared with
-others on the Point.</p>
-<p>“She ain’t dead!” she announced after one terrified glance,
-and then she dragged Mary-Clare to the couch; ran for water;
-took a towel from a nail and bathed the white, stained face.
-During this Noreen’s sobs grew less and less, she became
-quieter and was able, presently, to assist Jan-an.</p>
-<p>“She’s had a fall,” Jan-an announced. Mary-Clare
-opened her eyes––the words found an echo in her heavy
-brain.</p>
-<p>“Yes,” she whispered.</p>
-<p>“And on an empty stummick!” Jan-an had a sympathetic
-twinge.</p>
-<p>“Yes,” again Mary-Clare whispered and smiled.</p>
-<p>“Noreen, you go on sopping her face––I’m going to get
-something hot.”</p>
-<p>And while Noreen bathed and soothed the face upon the
-pillow into consciousness and reason, Jan-an made a fire
-on the hearth, carried water from a spring outside, and
-brought forth tea and some little cakes from the cupboard.
-The girl’s face was transfigured; she was thinking,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
-thinking, and it hurt her to think consecutively––but she
-thought on.</p>
-<p>“Norrie darling, I am all right. Quite all right.” At last
-Mary-Clare was able to assert herself; she rose unsteadily and
-Jan-an sprang to her side.</p>
-<p>“Lay down,” she commanded in a new and almost alarming
-tone. “Can’t yer see, yer must hold on ter yerself a
-spell? Let me take the lead––I know, I know!”</p>
-<p>And Mary-Clare realized that she did! Keenly the two
-gazed at each other, Eve’s two children! Mary-Clare sank
-back; her face quivered; her eyes filled with weak tears.</p>
-<p>Outside the darkness of the coming storm pressed close,
-the wind was straining at the leash, the lightning darted and
-the thunder rolled.</p>
-<p>“The storm,” murmured Mary-Clare, “the storm! It is
-the breaking up of summer!”</p>
-<p>The stale cakes and the hot tea refreshed the three, and
-after an hour Mary-Clare seemed quite herself. She went
-to the door and looked out into the heart of the storm. The
-red lightning ran zigzag through the blackness. It seemed
-like the glad summer, mad with fear, seeking a way through
-the sleet and rain.</p>
-<p>Bodily bruised and weary, mentally exhausted and groping,
-Mary-Clare still felt that strange freedom she had experienced
-while Larry was devastating all that she had believed
-in, and for which she had given of her best.</p>
-<p>She felt as one must who, escaping from an overwhelming
-flood, looks upon the destruction and wonders at her own
-escape. But she <i>had</i> escaped! That became, presently,
-the one gripping fact. She had escaped and she would find
-safety somewhere.</p>
-<p>The late sunset after the storm was glorious. The clear
-gold that a mighty storm often leaves in its wake was like a
-burnished shield. The breeze was icy in its touch; the
-bared trees startled one by the sudden change in their appearance––the
-gale had torn their colour and foliage from
-them. Starkly they stood forth against the glowing sky.</p>
-<p>And then Mary-Clare led the way down the trail––her
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span>
-leaf-strewn, hidden trail. She held Noreen’s hand in hers
-but she leaned upon Jan-an. As they descended Mary-Clare
-planned.</p>
-<p>“When we get home, Jan-an, home to the yellow house, I
-want you to go for Peneluna.”</p>
-<p>From all the world, Mary-Clare desired the old understanding
-woman.</p>
-<p>“I guess you mean Aunt Polly,” Jan-an suggested.</p>
-<p>“No. To-morrow, Aunt Polly, Jan-an. To-day I want
-Peneluna.”</p>
-<p>“All right.” Jan-an nodded.</p>
-<p>“And, Noreen dear.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Motherly.”</p>
-<p>“Everything is all right. I had a––queer fall. It was
-quite dark in the cabin––I hit my face on the edge of the
-table. And, Noreen.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Motherly.”</p>
-<p>“I may have to rest a little, but you must not be worried––you
-see, Mother hasn’t rested in a long while.”</p>
-<p>Peneluna responded to the call. It was late evening when
-she and Jan-an came to the yellow house. Before starting
-for the Point Jan-an had insisted upon getting a meal and
-afterward she had helped Mary-Clare put Noreen to bed.
-All this had delayed her.</p>
-<p>“Now,” she said at last, “I’ll go. I guess you’re edging to
-the limit, ain’t yer?”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare nodded.</p>
-<p>“I’ve never been sick, not plain sick, in all my life,” she
-murmured, “and why should I be now?”</p>
-<p>But left alone, she made ready, in a strange way, for what
-she felt was coming upon her. She undressed carefully and
-put her room in order. Then she lay down upon her bed
-and drifted lightly between the known and the unknown.</p>
-<p>She touched Noreen’s sleeping face so gently that the child
-did not heed the caress. Then:</p>
-<p>“Perhaps I am going to die––people die so easily at times––just
-flare out!”</p>
-<p>And so Peneluna found her and knelt beside her.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></div>
-<p>“You hear me, Mary-Clare?”</p>
-<p>“Yes. I hear you, of course.”</p>
-<p>“Well, then, child, take this along with you, wherever you
-bide for a time. I’m here and God Almighty’s here and
-things is safe! You get that?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Peneluna.”</p>
-<p>“Then listen––‘The solitary place shall be glad––and a
-highway shall be there––and a way.’” The confused words
-fell into a crooning song.</p>
-<p>“Solitary Place–––” Mary-Clare drifted to it, her eyes
-closed wearily, but she smiled and Peneluna believed that
-she had found The Way. Whether it wound back or out––well!
-Peneluna turned to her task of nursing. She had the
-gift of healing and she had an understanding heart, and so
-she took command.</p>
-<p>It was a rough and difficult Way and beset with dangers.
-A physician came and diagnosed the case.</p>
-<p>“Bad fall––almost concussion.”</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly came and shared the nursing. Jan-an mechanically
-attended to the house while Uncle Peter took Noreen
-under his care.</p>
-<p>The dull, uneventful days dragged on before Mary-Clare
-came back to her own. One day she said to Jan-an,
-“I––I want you to go to the cabin, Jan-an. I have given it––back
-to God. Close the windows and doors––for winter
-has come!”</p>
-<p>Jan-an nodded. She believed Mary-Clare was “passing
-out”––she was frightened and superstitious. She did not
-pause to explain to Peneluna, in the next room, where she was
-going, but covering her head and shoulders with an old shawl,
-she rushed forth.</p>
-<p>It was bitingly cold and the dry twigs struck against the
-girl’s face like ice. The ghost-wind added terror to the
-hour, but Jan-an struggled on.</p>
-<p>When she reached the cabin it was nearly dark––the empty
-room was haunted by memories and there were little scurrying
-creatures darting about. Standing in the centre of the
-room, Jan-an raised her clenched hands and extended them
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span>
-as if imploring a Presence. If Mary-Clare had given the
-Place back to God, then it might be that God was there
-close and––listening. Jan-an became possessed by the spiritual.
-She lifted her faithful, yearning eyes and spoke
-aloud.</p>
-<p>“God!” She waited. Then: “God, I’m trusting and I
-ain’t afraid––much! God, listen! I fling this to Your face.
-Yer raised Lazarus and others from the dead and Mary-Clare
-ain’t dead yet––can’t Yer––save her? Hear me! hear me!”</p>
-<p>Surely God heard and made answer, for that night Mary-Clare’s
-Way turned back again toward the little yellow
-house.</p>
-<p>When she was able, Aunt Polly insisted that she be moved
-to the inn.</p>
-<p>“It will make less trouble all around and Peneluna will
-stay on.”</p>
-<p>So they went to the inn, and the winter settled down upon
-the Forest and the Point and the mines. The lake was frozen
-and became a glittering highway; children skated; sleighs
-darted here and there. The world was shut away and things
-sank into the old grooves.</p>
-<p>During her convalescence Mary-Clare had strange visionary
-moments. She seemed to be able at times to detach
-herself from her surroundings and, guided by almost forgotten
-words of Northrup’s, find herself––with him. And
-always he was alone. She never visualized his mother; she
-could, thank heaven, eliminate Kathryn.</p>
-<p>She was alone with Northrup in a high place. They did not
-speak or touch each other––but they knew and were glad!
-There seemed to be mists below them, surrounding them;
-mists that now and then parted, and she and Northrup would
-eagerly try to––see things! Mary-Clare imagined herself
-in that high place as she did Northrup, a personality quite
-outside her own.</p>
-<p>After awhile those moments took more definite shape and
-form. She and Northrup were trying to see their city in
-the mists; trying to create their city.</p>
-<p>This became a thrilling mental exercise to Mary-Clare,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span>
-and in time she saw a city. Once or twice she almost felt
-him as she, that girl of her own creation, reached out to the
-man whom she loved; who loved her, but who knew, as she
-did, that love asks renunciation at times as well as acceptance
-if one were to keep––truth.</p>
-<p>Presently Mary-Clare was able to walk in the sunshine
-and then she often went to the deserted chapel and sat
-silent for hours.</p>
-<p>And there Maclin found her one day––a smiling, ingratiating
-Maclin. Maclin had been much disturbed by Larry’s
-abrupt and, up to the present, successful escape. Of course
-Maclin’s very one-track mind had at the hour of Rivers’s
-disappearance accounted for things in a primitive way.
-Northrup had bought Larry off! That was simple enough
-until Northrup himself disappeared.</p>
-<p>At this Maclin was obliged to do some original conjecturing.
-There must have been a scene––likely enough in that
-wood cabin. Northrup’s woman had got the whip hand
-and Northrup had accepted terms––leaving Mary-Clare.
-That would account for the illness.</p>
-<p>So far, so good. But with both Larry and Northrup off
-the ground, the Heathcotes would have to take responsibility.
-This would be the psychological moment to buy the Point!
-So Maclin, keeping watch, followed Mary-Clare to chapel
-island.</p>
-<p>“Well, well!” he exclaimed as if surprised to see the
-girl in the angle of the old church. “Decided to get well,
-eh? Taking a sun bath?”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare gathered her cloak closer, as if shrinking from
-the smiling, unwholesome-looking man.</p>
-<p>“Yes, I’m getting well fast,” she said.</p>
-<p>“Hear anything from Larry?” It seemed best to hide
-his own feelings as to Larry.</p>
-<p>“No.”</p>
-<p>“Some worried, I expect?”</p>
-<p>“No, I do not worry much, Mr. Maclin.” Mary-Clare
-was thinking of her old doctor’s philosophy. She wasn’t
-going to die, so she must live at once!</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></div>
-<p>“It’s a damned mean way to treat a little woman the way
-you’ve been treated.”</p>
-<p>Maclin stepped nearer and his neck wrinkled. Mary-Clare
-made no reply to this. Maclin was conscious of the
-back of his neck––it irritated him.</p>
-<p>“Left you strapped?” he asked.</p>
-<p>“What is that?” Mary-Clare was interested.</p>
-<p>“Short of money.”</p>
-<p>“Oh! no. My wishes are very simple––there’s money
-enough for them.”</p>
-<p>“See here, Mrs. Rivers, let’s get down to business. Of
-course you know I want the Point. I’ll tell you why. The
-mines are all right <i>as</i> mines, but I have some inventions over
-there ripe for getting into final shape. Now, I haven’t told a
-soul about this before––not even Larry––but I always hold
-that a woman <i>can</i> keep her tongue still. I’m not one of the
-men who think different. I want to put up a factory on the
-Point; some model cottages and––and <i>make</i> King’s Forest.
-Now what would you take for the Point, and don’t be too
-modest. I don’t grind the faces of women.”</p>
-<p>Maclin smiled. The fat on his face broke into lines––that
-was the best a smile could do for him. Mary-Clare
-looked at him, fascinated.</p>
-<p>“Speak up, Mrs. Rivers!” This came like a poke in the
-ribs––Mary-Clare recoiled as from a physical touch.</p>
-<p>“I do not own the Point any longer,” she said.</p>
-<p>“What in thunder!” Maclin now recoiled. “Who
-then?”</p>
-<p>“I gave it to Larry.”</p>
-<p>“How the devil could Larry pay you for it?”</p>
-<p>“Larry gave me no money.”</p>
-<p>“Do you expect me to believe this, Mrs. Rivers?” The
-fat now resumed its flaccid lines.</p>
-<p>“It doesn’t interest me in the least, Mr. Maclin, whether
-you do or not.”</p>
-<p>Then Mary-Clare rose, rather weakly, and turned toward
-the bridge.</p>
-<p>And there stood Maclin alone! Like all people who have
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span>
-much that they fear to have known, Maclin considered now
-how much Larry really knew? Did he know what the
-Point meant? Had he ever opened letters? This brought
-the sweat out on Maclin.</p>
-<p>Had he copied letters with that devilish trick of his?
-Could he sell the Point to––to–––?</p>
-<p>Maclin could bear no longer his unanswered questions.
-He went back to the mines and was not seen in King’s Forest
-for many a day.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XIX' id='CHAPTER_XIX'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Once back in the old environment, Northrup went,
-daily, through the sensations of his haunting dream,
-without the relief of awakening. The corridor of
-closed doors was an actuality to him now. Behind them lay
-experiences, common enough to most men, undoubtedly,
-but, as yet, unrevealed to him.</p>
-<p>In one he had dwelt for a brief time––good Lord! had it only
-been for weeks? Well, the memory, thank heaven, was
-secure; unblemished. He vowed that he would reserve to
-himself the privilege of returning, in thought, to that memory-haunted
-sanctuary as long as he might live, for he knew,
-beyond any doubt, that it could not weaken his resolve to
-take up every duty that he had for a time abandoned. It
-should be with him as Manly had predicted.</p>
-<p>This line of thought widened Northrup’s vision and developed
-a new tie between him and other men. He found
-himself looking at them in the street with awakened interest.
-He wondered how many of them, stern, often hard-featured
-men, had realized their souls in private or public life, and
-how had they dealt with the revelation? He grew sensitive
-as to expressions; he believed, after a time, that he could
-estimate, by the look in the eyes of his fellowmen, by the
-set of their jaws, whether they had faced the ordeal, as he was
-trying to do, or had denied the soul acceptance. It was like
-looking at them through a magnifying lens where once he
-had regarded them through smoked glass.</p>
-<p>And the women? Well, Northrup was very humble about
-women in those days. He grew restive when he contemplated
-results and pondered upon the daring that had assumed responsibility
-where complete understanding had never been
-attempted. It seemed, in his introspective state, that God,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span>
-even, had been cheated. Women were, he justly concluded,
-pretty much a response to ideals created for them, not by
-them.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was having her way with Northrup!</p>
-<p>Something of all this crept into his book for, after a fortnight
-at home, he set his own jaw and lips rather grimly,
-went to his small office room in the tower of a high building,
-and paid the elevator boy a goodly sum for acting as buffer
-during five holy hours of each day.</p>
-<p>It was like being above the world, sitting in that eyrie
-nook of his. Northrup often recalled a day, years before,
-when he had stood on a mountain-peak bathed in stillness and
-sunlight, watching the dramatic play of the elements on the
-scene below. Off to the right a violent shower spent itself
-mercilessly; to the left, rolling mists were parting and revealing
-pleasant meadows and clustering hamlets. And with
-this recollection, Northrup closed his eyes and, from his silent
-watch tower, saw, as no earthly thing could make him see,
-the hideous tragedy across the seas.</p>
-<p>Since his return his old unrest claimed him. It was blotting
-out all that he had believed was his––ideals; the meaning
-of life; love; duty; even his city––<i>his</i>––was threatened.
-Nothing any longer seemed safe unless it were battled for.
-There was something he owed––what was it?</p>
-<p>Try as he valiantly did, Northrup could put little thought
-in his work––it eluded him. He began, at first unconsciously,
-to plan for going away, while, consciously, he deceived himself
-by thinking that he was readjusting himself to his own widened
-niche in the wall!</p>
-<p>When Northrup descended from his tower, he became as
-other men and the grim lines of lips and jaws relaxed. He
-was with them who first caught the wider vision of brotherhood.</p>
-<p>At once, upon his return, he had taken Manly into his
-confidence about his mother, and that simple soul brushed
-aside the sentimental rubbish with which Kathryn had
-cluttered the situation.</p>
-<p>“It’s all damned rot, Brace,” he snapped. “You had a
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span>
-grandmother who did work that was never meant for women
-to do––laid a carpet or tore one up, I forget which, I heard
-the story from my father––and she developed cancer––more
-likely it wasn’t cancer––I don’t think my father was ever sure.
-But, good Lord! why should her descendants inherit an accident?
-I thought I’d talked your mother out of that nonsense.”</p>
-<p>Thus reassured, Northrup told Kathryn that all the secret
-diplomacy was to be abandoned and that his mother must
-work with them.</p>
-<p>“But, Brace dear, you don’t blame me for my fright?
-I was so worried!”</p>
-<p>“No, little girl, you were a trump. I’ll never forget how
-you stood by!”</p>
-<p>So Helen Northrup put herself in Manly’s hands––those
-strong, faithful hands. She went to a hospital for various
-tests. She was calm but often afraid. She sometimes
-looked at the pleasant, thronged streets and felt a loneliness,
-as if she missed herself from among her kind. Manly pooh-poohed
-and shrugged his broad shoulders.</p>
-<p>“Women! women!” he ejaculated, but there were hours
-when he, too, had his fears.</p>
-<p>But in the end, black doubt was driven away.</p>
-<p>“Of course, my dear lady,” Manly said relievedly, patting
-her hand, “we cannot sprint at fifty-odd as we did at twenty.
-But a more leisurely gait is enjoyable and we can take time to
-look around at the pleasant things; do the things we’ve always
-wanted to do––but didn’t have time to do. Brace must get
-married––he’ll have children and you’ll begin all over with
-them. Then I’d like to take in some music with you this
-winter. I’ve rather let my pet fads drop from sheer loneliness.
-Let’s go to light opera––we’re all getting edgy over
-here. I tell you, Helen, it’s up to us older fry to steer the
-youngsters away from what does not concern them.”</p>
-<p>Poor Manly! He could not deafen his conscience to the
-growing call from afar and already he saw the trend. So he
-talked the more as one does to keep his courage up in grave
-danger.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span></div>
-<p>With his anxiety about Helen Northrup removed, Manly
-gave attention to Brace. Brace puzzled him. He acknowledged
-that Northrup had never looked better; the trip had
-done wonders for him. Yes; that was it––something rather
-wonderful had been done.</p>
-<p>He attacked Northrup one day in his sledge-hammer style.</p>
-<p>“What in thunder has got mixed up in your personality?”
-he asked.</p>
-<p>“Oh! I suppose anxiety about Mother, Manly. And the
-thought that I had slipped from under my responsibilities.
-Had she died––well! it’s all right now.”</p>
-<p>But this did not satisfy Manly.</p>
-<p>“Hang it all, I don’t mean anxiety,” he blurted out. “The
-natural stuff I can estimate and label. But you look somehow
-as if you had been switched off the side track to the
-main line.”</p>
-<p>“Or the other way about, old man?” Northrup broke in
-and laughed.</p>
-<p>“No, sir; you’re on the main line, all right; but you don’t
-look as if you knew where you were going. Keep the headlight
-on, Brace.”</p>
-<p>“Thanks, Manly; I do not fully understand just where I
-may land, but I’m going slow. Now this––this horror across
-seas–––” Always it was creeping in, these days.</p>
-<p>“Oh! that’s their business, Northrup. They’re always
-scrapping––this isn’t our war, old man,” Manly broke in
-roughly, but Northrup shook his head.</p>
-<p>“Manly, I cannot look at it as a war––just a plain war,
-you know. I’ve had a queer experience that I will tell you
-about some day, but it convinced me that above all, and
-through all, there is a Power that forces us, often against our
-best-laid plans, and I believe that Power can force the world
-as well. Manly, take it from me, this is no scrap over there,
-it’s a soul-finder; a soul-creator, more like. Before we get
-through, a good many nations and men will be compelled to
-look, as you once did, at bare, gaunt souls or”––a pause––“set
-to work and make souls.”</p>
-<p>Manly twisted in his seat uneasily. Northrup went on.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></div>
-<p>“Manly”––he spoke quietly, evenly––“do you remember
-our last talk in this office before I left?”</p>
-<p>“Well, some of it. Yes.”</p>
-<p>“Jogs, you know. Mountain peaks, baby hands, women
-faces, and souls?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! yes. Sick talk to a sick man.” Manly snapped his
-fingers.</p>
-<p>“Manly, what did you mean by saying that you had once
-seen your soul?” Northrup was in dead earnest. Manly
-swung around in his swivel chair.</p>
-<p>“I meant that I saw mine once,” he said sharply, definitely.</p>
-<p>“How did it look?”</p>
-<p>“As if I had neglected it. A shrunken, shivering thing.”
-Manly stopped suddenly, then added briefly: “You cannot
-starve that part of you, Northrup, without a get-back some
-day.”</p>
-<p>“No. And that’s exactly what I am up against––the get-back!”</p>
-<p>After that talk with Manly, Northrup, singularly enough,
-felt as if he had arrived at some definite conclusion; had received
-instructions as to his direction. He was quietly elated
-and, sitting in his office, experienced the peace and satisfaction
-of one who spiritually submits to a higher Power.</p>
-<p>The globe of light on the peak of his tower seemed, humorously,
-to have become his headlight––Manly’s figures of
-speech clung––its white and red flashes, its moments of darkness,
-were like the workings of his mind, but he knew no
-longer the old depression. He was on the main line, and he
-had his orders––secret ones, so far, but safe ones.</p>
-<p>Kathryn grew more charming as time passed. She did not
-seem to resent Northrup’s detachment, though the tower
-room lured him dangerously. Once she had hinted that she’d
-love to see his workshop; hear some of his work. But Northrup
-had put her off.</p>
-<p>“Wait, dear, until I’ve finished the thing, and then you
-and I will have a regular gorge of it, up in my tower.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn at this put up her mouth to be kissed while behind
-her innocent smile she was picturing the girl of King’s Forest
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span>
-in those awful muddy trousers! <i>She</i> had heard the book in
-the making; she had not been pushed aside.</p>
-<p>More and more Mary-Clare became a stumbling block to
-Kathryn. She felt she was a dangerous type; the kind men
-never could understand, until it was too late, and never
-forgot. And Brace <i>was</i> changed. The subtle unrest did not
-escape Kathryn.</p>
-<p>“I wonder–––” And Kathryn did wonder. Wondered
-most at the possibility of Mary-Clare ever appearing on the
-surface again. For––and this was a humiliating thought to
-Kathryn––she realized she was no match for that girl of the
-Forest!</p>
-<p>However, Kathryn, as was her wont when things went
-wrong, pulled down the shade mentally, as once she had done
-physically, against the distasteful conditions Brace had
-evolved.</p>
-<p>And there was much to be attended to––so Kathryn, with
-great efficiency, set to work. She must make provision for
-her aunt’s future. This was not difficult, for poor Anna was
-so relieved that any provision was to be considered, that she
-accepted Kathryn’s lowest figure.</p>
-<p>Then there was Arnold. Sandy, at the moment, was disgusted
-at Northrup’s return. It interfered with his plans.
-Sandy had a long and keen scent. The trouble overseas had
-awakened a response in him, he meant to serve the cause––but
-in his own way. Secretly he was preparing. He was
-buying up old vessels, but old vessels were expensive and the
-secrecy prevented his borrowing money. He wanted to get
-married, too. Kathryn, with only his protection and he
-with Kathryn’s little fortune, would create, at the moment,
-a situation devoutly to be desired.</p>
-<p>Kathryn had to deal with this predicament cautiously.
-Sandy was so horribly matter-of-fact––not a grain of Northrup’s
-idealism about him! But for that very reason, in the
-abominably upset state of the world, he was not lightly to be
-cast on the scrap-heap. One never could tell! Brace might
-act up sentimentally, but Sandy could be depended upon
-always––he was a rock!</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></div>
-<p>So Kathryn, embroidering her wedding linen––for she
-meant to be married soon––prayed for guidance.</p>
-<p>On the whole, the situation was most gratifying. No wonder
-Kathryn felt well pleased with herself and more fully
-convinced that, with such wits as hers, life was reduced to a
-common factor. Once married she would be able to draw a
-long breath. Marriage was such a divine institution for
-women. It gave them such a stranglehold––with the right
-sort of men––and Brace <i>was</i> the right sort.</p>
-<p>To be sure he was not entirely satisfying at the present
-moment. His attentions smacked too much of duty. He
-could not deceive Kathryn. He sent flowers and gifts in
-such profusion that they took on the aspect of blood money.
-Well, marriage would adjust all that.</p>
-<p>Helen urged an early date for the wedding and even Manly,
-who did not like Kathryn, gripped her as the saviour of a
-critical situation.</p>
-<p>King’s Forest had had a sinister effect upon Manly; it made
-him doubt himself.</p>
-<p>And so life, apparently, ran along smoothly on the surface.
-It was the undercurrents that were really carrying things
-along at a terrific rate.</p>
-<p>It was in his tower room that most of Northrup’s struggle
-went on. Daily he confronted that which Was and Had To
-Be! With all his old outposts being taken day by day, he
-was left bare and unprotected for the last assault. And it
-came!</p>
-<p>It came as death does, quite naturally for the most part,
-and found him––ready. Like the dying––or the reborn––Northrup
-put his loved ones to the acid test. His mother
-would understand. Kathryn? It was staggering, at this
-heart-breaking moment, to discover, after all the recent
-proving of herself, that Kathryn resolved into an Unknown
-Quantity.</p>
-<p>This discovery filled Northrup with a sense of disloyalty
-and unreality. What right had he to permit the girl who
-was to be his wife, the mother of his children, to be relegated
-to so ignominious a position? Had she not proved herself
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span>
-to him in faithfulness and understanding? Had she not,
-setting aside her own rights, looked well to his?</p>
-<p>The days dragged along and each one took its toll of Northrup’s
-vitality while it intensified that crusading emotion in
-his soul.</p>
-<p>He did not mention all this to those nearest him until the
-time for departure came, and he tried, God knew, to work
-while he performed the small, devotional acts to his mother
-and Kathryn that would soon stand forth, to one of them at
-least, as the most courageous acts of his life.</p>
-<p>He had come to that part of his book where his woman
-must take her final stand––the stand that Mary-Clare had
-so undermined. If he finished the book before he went––and
-he decided that it might be possible––his woman must rise
-supreme over the doubts with which she had been invested.
-But when he came to the point, the decision, if he followed
-his purpose, looked cheap and commonplace––above everything,
-obvious. In his present mood his book would be just––a
-book; not the Big Experience.</p>
-<p>This struggle to finish his work in the face of the stubborn
-facts at moments obliterated the crusading spirit; the doubts
-of Kathryn and even Mary-Clare’s pervading insistence. He
-hated to be beaten at his own job.</p>
-<p>Love’s supreme sacrifice and glory, as portrayed in woman––<i>must</i>
-be man’s ideal, of course!</p>
-<p>The ugly business of the world had to be got through, and
-man often had to set love aside––for honour. “But, good
-Lord!” Northrup argued, apparently to his useless right hand,
-what would become of the spiritual, if woman got to setting
-up little gods and bowing down before them? Why, she
-would forego her God-given heritage. To her, love must be
-all. Above all else. Why, the very foundations of life were
-founded upon that. What could be higher to a woman?
-Man could look out for the rest, but he must be sure of his
-woman’s love! The rest would be in their own hands––that
-was their individual affair.</p>
-<p>And then, at this crucial moment, Mary-Clare <i>would</i> always
-intrude.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></div>
-<p>“It’s what one does to love!” That was her stern ultimatum.
-“Love’s best proof might be renunciation, not
-surrender!”</p>
-<p>“Nonsense!” Northrup flung back. “How then could a
-man be sure? No book with such an ending would stand a
-chance.”</p>
-<p>“You must not harm your book by such a doubt. That
-book must be <i>true</i>, and you know the truth. Women must
-be made glad by it, men stronger because someone understands
-and is brave enough to say it.”</p>
-<p>But Northrup steeled his heart against this command.
-He meant to finish his book; finish it with a flaming proof
-that, while men offered their lives for duty, women offered
-theirs for love and did not count the cost, like misers or––lenders.</p>
-<p>One afternoon Northrup, the ink still wet upon the last
-sheet of his manuscript, leaned back wearily in his chair.
-He could not conquer Mary-Clare. He let his eyes rest upon
-his awakening city. For him it rose at night. In the day
-it belonged to others––the men and women, passing to and
-fro with those strange eyes and jaws. But when they all
-passed to their homes, then the lone city that was his started
-like a thing being born upon a hill.</p>
-<p>It may have been at one of these strained moments that
-Northrup slept; he was never able to decide. He seemed to
-hold to the twinkling lights; he thought he heard sounds––the
-elevator just outside his door; the rising wind.</p>
-<p>However that may be, as clearly as any impression ever
-fixed itself upon his consciousness, he saw Mary-Clare beside
-him in her stained and ugly garb, her lovely hair ruffled as
-if she had been travelling fast, and her great eyes turned
-upon him gladly. She was panting a bit; smiling and thankful
-that she had found him, at last in his city!</p>
-<p>It was like being with her on that day when they stood on
-the mountain near her cabin and talked.</p>
-<p>Northrup was spellbound. He understood, though no
-word passed between him and the girl so close to him. She
-did not try to touch him, but she did, presently, move a step
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span>
-nearer and lay her little work-worn hand upon the pile of
-manuscript in that quaint way of hers that had so often made
-Northrup smile. It was a reverent touch.</p>
-<p>Standing so, she sealed from him those last chapters! She
-would not argue or be set aside––she claimed her woman-right;
-the right to the truth as some women saw it, as more
-would see it; as, God willing, Northrup himself would see it
-some day! He would know that it was because of love that
-she had turned him and herself to duty.</p>
-<p>Northrup suddenly found himself on his feet.</p>
-<p>The little room was dark; the city was blazing about him––under
-him. His city! His hand lay upon his manuscript.</p>
-<p>Quietly he took it up and locked it in his safe. Slowly,
-reverently, he set the bare room in order without turning on
-the electricity. He worked in the dark but his vision was
-never clearer. He went out, locked the door, as one does
-upon a chamber, sacred and secret.</p>
-<p>He did not think of Mary-Clare, his mother, or Kathryn––he
-was setting forth to do that which had to be done; he was
-going to give what was his to give to that struggle across the
-ocean for right; the proving of right.</p>
-<p>All along, his unrest had been caused by the warring elements
-in himself––there was only one way out––he must
-take it and be proved as the world was being proved.</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XX' id='CHAPTER_XX'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
-</div>
-<p>“Mother, I must go!”</p>
-<p>Helen Northrup did not tremble, but she looked
-white, thin-lipped.</p>
-<p>“You have given me the twenty-four hours, son. You
-have weighed the question––it is not emotional excitement?”</p>
-<p>“No, Mother, it is conscience. I’m not in the least under
-an illusion. If I thought of this thing as war––a mere fight––I
-know I would be glad to avail myself of any honourable
-course and remain here. But it’s bigger than war, that Thing
-that is deafening and blinding the world. Sometimes”––Northrup
-went over to the window and looked out into the
-still white mystery of the first snowstorm––“sometimes I
-think it is God Almighty’s last desperate way to awaken
-us.”</p>
-<p>Helen Northrup came to the window and stood beside
-her son. She did not touch him; she stood close––that was
-all.</p>
-<p>“I cannot see God in this,” she whispered. “God could
-have found another way. I have––lost God. I fear most
-of us have.”</p>
-<p>“Perhaps we never had Him,” Northrup murmured.</p>
-<p>“But there <i>is</i> God––somewhere.” Helen’s voice quivered.
-“I shall always be near you, beloved, always, and perhaps––God
-will.”</p>
-<p>“I know that, Mother. And I want you to know that if
-this call wasn’t mightier than anything else in all the world,
-I would not leave you.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, I know that, dear son.”</p>
-<p>For a moment they stood in silence by the window and
-then turned, together, to the fireside.</p>
-<p>They were in Helen’s writing-room. The room where so
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span>
-often she had struggled to put enough life into her weak little
-verses to send them winging on their way. The drawers of
-her desk were full of sad fancies that had been still-born, or
-had come fluttering back to her ark without even the twig of
-hope to cheer her. But at all this she had never repined––she
-had her son! And now? Well, he was leaving her.
-Might never–––</p>
-<p>Sitting in the warmth and glow the woman looked at her
-son. With all the yearning of her soul she wanted to keep
-him; she had so little; so little. And then she recognized, as
-women do, in the Temple where the Most High speaks to
-them, that if he turned a deaf ear to the best that was in him,
-she could not honour him.</p>
-<p>“You have been happy, dear son? I mean you have had a
-happy life on the whole?”</p>
-<p>Helen had wanted that above all else. His life had been
-so short––it might be so soon over, and the trivial untalked-of
-things rose sharply now to the surface.</p>
-<p>“Yes, Mother. Far too happy and easy.”</p>
-<p>“I’ve been thinking.” Helen’s thought went slowly over
-the backward road––she must not break! But she must go
-back to the things they had left unspoken. “I’ve been thinking,
-during the last twenty-four hours, of all the happenings,
-dear, that I wish had been different. Your father, Brace!
-I––I tried not to deprive you of your father––I knew the cost.
-It––it wasn’t all his fault, dear; it was no real fault of either of
-us; it was my misfortune, you see––he was asking what––what
-he had a perfect right to ask––but I was, well, I had nothing
-to give him that he wanted.”</p>
-<p>Northrup went across the space between him and his
-mother and laid his hand upon hers.</p>
-<p>“Mother, I understand. Lately I have felt a new sympathy
-for Father, and a new contempt. He missed a lot that
-was worth while, but he did not know. It was damnable;
-he might have––kept you.”</p>
-<p>“No, Brace. It is the world’s thought. I have never
-been bitter. I only wish he could have been happy––after––after
-he went away.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div>
-<p>“And he wasn’t?” This had never been discussed between
-them.</p>
-<p>“No, dear. He married a woman who seemed to be what
-he wanted. She wearied of him. He died a lonely, a bitter
-man. I was saved the bitterness, at least, and I had you.”</p>
-<p>Another pause. Then:</p>
-<p>“Brace, I know it will seem foolish, but perhaps when
-you are far away it won’t seem so foolish. I want to tell
-you, dear, that I wish I had never spoken a harsh word to
-you. Life hurts so at the best––many women are feeling
-this as I do, dear. Once––you must humour me, Brace––once,
-after I punished you, I regretted it. I asked your
-pardon and you said, ‘Don’t mention it, Mother, I understood.’
-I want you to say it now, son; it will be such a
-comfort.”</p>
-<p>“I believe, God hearing me, Mother, that I have understood;
-have always known that you were the best and dearest
-of mothers.”</p>
-<p>“Thank you.”</p>
-<p>“And now, Mother, there is one thing more. We may not
-have another opportunity for a real house-cleaning. It’s
-about King’s Forest.”</p>
-<p>Helen started, but she stiffened at once.</p>
-<p>“Yes, Brace,” she said simply.</p>
-<p>“There is a girl, a woman there. Such things as relate to
-that woman and me often happen to men and women. It’s
-what one does to the happening that counts. I realize that
-my life has had much in it; but much was left out of it.
-Much that is common stuff to most fellows; they take it in
-portions. It came all at once to me, but she was strong
-enough, fine enough to help me; not drift with me. I wanted
-you to know.”</p>
-<p>“Thank you. I understand. Is there anything you
-would like to have me do?”</p>
-<p>“No. Nothing, Mother. It is all right; it had to happen,
-I suppose. I wanted you to know. We did not dishonour
-the thing––she’s quite wonderful.” A pause; then:</p>
-<p>“She has a brute of a husband––I hope I freed her of him,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span>
-in a way; I’m glad to think of that now. She has a child, a
-little girl, and there were some dead children.”</p>
-<p>This detail seemed tragically necessary to tell; it seemed
-to explain all else.</p>
-<p>“And now, Mother, I must go around to Kathryn’s. Do
-not sit up, dear. I’ll come to your room.”</p>
-<p>“Very well.” Then Helen stood up and laid her hands on
-his shoulders. “Some sons and daughters,” she said slowly,
-convincingly, “learn how to bear life, in part, from their
-parents––I have learned from my son.”</p>
-<p>Then she raised her hands and drew his head down to hers
-and rested her cheek against his. Without a word more
-Northrup left the house. He was deeply moved by the scene
-through which he and his mother had just passed. It had
-consisted of small and trivial things; of overwhelmingly big
-things, but it had been marked by a complete understanding
-and had brought them both to a point where they could
-separate with faith and hope.</p>
-<p>But as Northrup neared Kathryn’s house this exalted feeling
-waned. Again he was aware of the disloyal doubt of
-Kathryn that made him hesitate and weigh his method of
-approach. He stood, before touching the bell of the Morris
-house, and shook the light snow from his coat; he was glad of
-delay. When at last he pushed the button he instinctively
-braced. The maid who admitted him told him that he was
-to go to the library.</p>
-<p>This was the pleasantest room in the house, especially at
-night. The lighting was perfect; the old books gave forth a
-welcoming fragrance and, to-night, a generous cannel coal
-fire puffed in rich, glowing bursts of heat and colour upon the
-hearth. Kathryn was curled up in the depths of a leather
-chair, her pretty blonde head just showing above the top.
-She did not get up but called merrily:</p>
-<p>“Here, dear! Come and be comfy. This is a big chair
-and a very little me.”</p>
-<p>Northrup came around in front of the chair, his back to
-the fire, and looked down upon the small figure. The blue
-blur of the evening gown, the exquisite whiteness of arms,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span>
-neck, and face sank into his consciousness. Unconsciously
-he was fixing scenes in his memory, as one secures pictures
-in a scrap-book, for the future.</p>
-<p>“Been dining out, dear?”</p>
-<p>The dress suggested this, but Kathryn was alert.</p>
-<p>“Don’t be a silly old cave thing, Brace. One cannot throw
-an old friend overboard in cold blood, now can one? Sandy
-is going away for a week, but I told him to-night that never,
-never again would I dine with him alone. Now will you be
-good?”</p>
-<p>Still Northrup did not smile. He was not concerned about
-Arnold, but he seemed such a nuisance at this moment.</p>
-<p>Kathryn, regarding Northrup’s face, sat up and her eyes
-widened.</p>
-<p>“What’s the matter, Brace?” she asked, and the hard,
-metallic ring was in her voice. Northrup misunderstood
-the change. He felt that he had startled her. He sat down
-upon the arm of the chair.</p>
-<p>“Poor little girl,” he whispered. Kathryn also misunderstood,
-she nestled against him.</p>
-<p>“Big man,” she murmured, “he <i>is</i> going to be nice. Kiss
-me here––close behind my right ear––always and always that
-is going to be just your place.”</p>
-<p>Northrup did not seem to hear. He bent closer until his
-face pressed the soft, scented hair, but he did not kiss the
-spot dedicated to him. Instead he said:</p>
-<p>“Darling, I am going away!”</p>
-<p>“Away––where?” Kathryn became rigid.</p>
-<p>“Overseas.”</p>
-<p>“Overseas? What for, in heaven’s name?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! anything they’ll let me do. I’m going as soon as I
-can be sent––but–––”</p>
-<p>“You mean, without any reason whatever, you’re going to
-go over there?”</p>
-<p>“Hardly without something that stands for reason,
-Kathryn.”</p>
-<p>“But no one, not even Doctor Manly, thinks that it is our
-fight, Brace. The men who have gone are simply adventurers;
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span>
-men who love excitement or men who want to cut
-responsibilities and don’t dare confess it.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn’s face flamed hot.</p>
-<p>“Their lives must be pretty damnable,” Northrup broke
-in, “if they take such a method to fling them aside. Do try
-to understand, dear; our women must, you know.” There
-was pleading in the words.</p>
-<p>Then by one of those sudden reversions of her nimble wits,
-Kathryn recalled things she had heard recently––and immediately
-she took the centre of her well-lighted stage, and
-horrible as it might seem, saw herself, a ravishing picture in
-fascinating widow’s weeds! While this vision was holding,
-Kathryn clung to Northrup and was experiencing actual
-distress––not ghoulish pleasure.</p>
-<p>“Oh! you must not leave me,” she quivered.</p>
-<p>“You will help me, Kathryn; be a woman like my mother?”
-Again Northrup pleaded. This was unfortunate. It steadied
-Kathryn, but it hardened her.</p>
-<p>“You want me to marry you at once, Brace?” she whispered.</p>
-<p>“No, dear. That would not be fair to you. I want you
-to understand; I want to know that you will––will keep
-Mother company. That is all, until I come home. I could
-not feel justified in asking a woman to marry such a––such a
-chance as I am about to be.”</p>
-<p>Now there was cause for what Kathryn suddenly felt, but
-not the cause she suspected. Had Northrup loved deeply,
-faithfully, understandingly, he might, as others did, see that
-to the right woman the “chance,” as he termed himself,
-would become her greatest glory and hope, but as it was
-Northrup considered only Kathryn’s best good and, gropingly,
-he realized that her interests and his were not, at the
-present, identical.</p>
-<p>But Kathryn, her ever-present jealousy and apprehension
-rising, was carried from her moorings. She recalled the evidences
-of “duty” in Northrup’s attitude toward her since his
-return from King’s Forest; his abstraction and periods of low
-spirits.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span></div>
-<p>“He cannot stand it any longer,” she thought resentfully;
-“he’s willing to do anything, take any chance.”</p>
-<p>A hot wave of anger enveloped Kathryn, but she did not
-speak.</p>
-<p>“Kathryn”––Northrup grew restive at her silence––“haven’t
-you anything to say to me? Something I can
-remember––over there? I’d like to think of you as I see you
-now, little, pretty, and loving. The blue gown, the jolly fire,
-this fine old room––I reckon there will be times when my
-thoughts will cling to the old places and my own people rather
-fiercely.”</p>
-<p>“What can I say, Brace? You never see <i>my</i> position.
-Men are selfish always, even about their horrible fights.
-What do they care about their women, when the call of blood
-comes? Oh! I hate it all, I hate it! Everything upset––men
-coming back, heaven only knows how! even if they come at
-all––but we women must let them go and <i>smile</i> so as to send
-them off unworried. We must stay home and be <i>nothings</i>
-until the end and then take what’s left––joyfully, gratefully––oh!
-I hate it all.”</p>
-<p>Northrup got up and stood again with his back to the fire.
-He loomed rather large and dark before Kathryn’s angry
-eyes. She feared he was going to say the sentimental regulation
-thing, but he did not. Sorrowfully he said:</p>
-<p>“What you say, dear, is terribly true. It isn’t fair nor
-decent and there are times when I feel only shame because,
-after all these centuries, we have thought out no better way;
-but, Kathryn, women are taking part in this trouble––perhaps
-<i>you</i>–––”</p>
-<p>“You mean that <i>I</i> may go over into that shambles––if I
-want to?” With this Kathryn sprang to her feet. “Well,
-thanks! I do not want to. I’m not the kind of girl who
-takes her dissipation that way. If I ever let go, I’ll take my
-medicine and not expect to be shielded by this sentimentality.”</p>
-<p>“Kathryn, how can you? My dear, my dear! Say what
-you want to about my folly––men’s mistakes––but do not
-speak so of your––sisters!”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></div>
-<p>“Sisters?” Kathryn laughed her mirthless but musical
-laugh. “You <i>are</i> funny, Brace!”</p>
-<p>Then, as was her way when she lost control, Kathryn made
-straight for the rocks while believing she was guided by
-divine intuition. She faced Northrup, looking up at him
-from her lower level.</p>
-<p>“I think I understand the whole matter,” she said slowly,
-all traces of excitement gone. “I am going to prove it. Will
-you marry me before you go?”</p>
-<p>“No, Kathryn. This is a matter of principle with me.”</p>
-<p>“You think they might not let you go––you’d have to provide
-for my protection?”</p>
-<p>“No, I am not afraid of that. You’d be well provided for;
-I would go under any circumstances, but I will not permit you
-to take a leap in the dark.”</p>
-<p>“That sounds very fine, but <i>I</i> do not believe it!”</p>
-<p>The black wings that poor Jan-an had suspected under
-Kathryn’s fine plumage were flapping darkly now. Kathryn
-was awed by Northrup’s silence and aloofness. She was
-afraid, but still angry. What was filling her own narrow
-mind, she believed, was filling Northrup’s and she lost all
-sense of proportion.</p>
-<p>“Is <i>she</i> going over there?” she asked.</p>
-<p>Northrup, if possible, looked more bewildered and dazed.</p>
-<p>“She––whom do you mean, Kathryn?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! I never meant to tell you! You drive me to it,
-Brace. I always meant to blot it out–––”</p>
-<p>Kathryn got no further just then. Northrup came close to
-her and with folded arms fixed his eyes upon her flushed face.</p>
-<p>“Kathryn, you’re excited; you’ve lost control of yourself,
-but there’s something under all this that we must get at.
-Just answer my questions. Whom do you mean––by ‘she’?”</p>
-<p>Kathryn mentally recoiled and with her back to her wall
-replied, out of the corner of her mouth:</p>
-<p>“That girl in King’s Forest!”</p>
-<p>From sheer astonishment Northrup drew back as from a
-blow. Kathryn misunderstood and gained courage.</p>
-<p>“I forgave it because I love you, Brace.” She gathered
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span>
-her cheap little charms together––her sex appeals. “I understood
-from the moment I saw her.”</p>
-<p>“When did you see her? Where?”</p>
-<p>Northrup had recovered himself; he was able to think.
-He knew he must act quickly, emphatically, and he generously
-tried to be just.</p>
-<p>Keen to take advantage of what she believed was guilt,
-Kathryn responded, dragging her lures along with her.</p>
-<p>“Please, dear Brace, do not look at me so sternly. I could
-not help what happened and I suffered so, although I never
-meant to let you know. You see, I walked in the woods that
-day that I went to King’s Forest to tell you about your
-mother. A queer-looking girl told me that you lived at the
-inn, but were then in the woods. I went to find you; to meet
-you––can you not understand?”</p>
-<p>The tears stood in Kathryn’s eyes, her mouth quivered.
-Northrup softened.</p>
-<p>“Go on, Kathryn. I <i>do</i> understand.”</p>
-<p>“Well, I came to a cabin in the woods, I don’t know why,
-but something made me think it was yours. You would be
-so likely to take such a place as that, dear. I went in––to
-wait for you; to sit and think about you, to calm myself––and
-then–––”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Kathryn!” Northrup was seeing it all––the cabin,
-the silent red-and-gold woods.</p>
-<p>“And then––she came! Oh! Brace, a man can never know
-how a woman feels at such a moment––you see there were
-some sheets of your manuscript on the table––I was looking
-at them when the girl came in. Brace, she was quite awful;
-she frightened me terribly. She asked who I was and I told
-her––I thought that would at least make her see my side;
-explain things––but it did not! She was––she was”––Kathryn
-ventured a bolder dash––“she was quite violent.
-I cannot remember all she said––she said so much––a girl
-does when she realizes what <i>she</i> must have realized. Oh!
-Brace, I tried to be kind, but I had to take your part and she
-turned me out!”</p>
-<p>In all this Northrup felt his way as one does along a narrow
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span>
-passage beset on either side with dangers. Characteristically
-he saw his own wrong in originally creating the situation.
-Not for an instant did he doubt Kathryn’s story; indeed, she
-rose in his regard; for he felt for her deeply. He had, unwittingly,
-set a trap for her innocent, girlish feet; brought
-her to bay with what she could not possibly understand; and
-the belief that she had been merciful, had accepted, in silence,
-at a time when his trouble absorbed her, touched and humiliated
-him; and yet, try as he did to consider only Kathryn,
-he could not disregard Mary-Clare. He could not picture
-her in a coarse rage; the idea was repellent, but he acknowledged
-that the dramatic moment, lived through by two
-stranger-women with much at stake, was beyond his powers
-of imagination. The great thing that mattered now was
-that his duty, since a choice must be made, was to Kathryn.
-By every right, as he saw it, she must claim his allegiance.
-And yet, what was there to be done?</p>
-<p>Northrup was silent; his inability to express himself condemned
-him in her eyes, and yet, strangely enough, he had
-never been more desirable to her.</p>
-<p>“Marry me, dear. Let me prove my love to you. No
-matter what lies back there, I forgive everything! That is
-what love means to a woman like me.”</p>
-<p>Love! This poor, shabby counterfeit.</p>
-<p>With a sickening sense of repulsion Northrup drew back,
-and maddeningly his book, not Kathryn, seemed to fill his
-aching brain. With this conception of love revealed––how
-blindly he had misunderstood. He tried to speak; did speak
-at last––he heard his words, but was not conscious of their
-meaning.</p>
-<p>“You are wrong, child. Whatever folly was committed in
-King’s Forest was mine, not that girl’s. I suppose I was a
-bit mad without knowing it, but I will not accept your sacrifice,
-Kathryn, I will not ask for forgiveness. When I come
-home, if you still love me, I will devote my life to you. We
-will start afresh––the whole world will.”</p>
-<p>“You are going at once?” Kathryn clutched at what was
-eluding her.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></div>
-<p>“Yes, my dear.”</p>
-<p>“And you won’t marry me? Won’t––prove to me?”</p>
-<p>“No.”</p>
-<p>“Oh! how can you leave me to think–––”</p>
-<p>“Think what, Kathryn?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! things––about her. It would be such a proof of what
-you’ve just said––if only you would marry me now.”</p>
-<p>“Kathryn, I cannot. I am––I wish that you could understand––I
-am stepping out into the dark. I must go alone.”</p>
-<p>“That is absurd, Brace. Absurd.” A baffled, desperate
-note rang in Kathryn’s voice. It was not for Northrup, but
-for her first sense of failure. Then she looked up. All the
-resentment gone from her face, she was the picture of despair.</p>
-<p>“I will wait for you, Brace. I will prove to you what a
-woman’s real love is!”</p>
-<p>So, cleverly, did she bind what she intuitively felt was the
-highest in Northrup. And he bent and laid his lips on the
-smooth girlish forehead, sorrowfully realizing how little he
-had to offer.</p>
-<p>A few moments later Northrup found himself on the street.
-The snow was falling thicker, faster. It had the smothering
-quality that is so mysterious. People thudded along as if
-on padded feet; the lights were splashed with clinging flakes
-and gleamed yellow-red in the whiteness. Sounds were
-muffled; Northrup felt blotted out.</p>
-<p>He loved the sensation––it was like a great, absorbing Force
-taking him into its control and erasing forever the bungling
-past. He purposely drifted for an hour in the storm. He
-was like a moving part of it, and when at last he reached
-home, he stood in the vestibule for many moments extricating
-himself––it was more that than shaking the snow off. He
-felt singularly free.</p>
-<p>Once within the house, he went directly to his mother’s
-room. She was lying on a couch by the fire. In the shelter
-of her warm, quiet place Helen seemed to have gained
-what Brace had won in the storm. She was smiling, almost
-eager.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></div>
-<p>“Yes, dear?” she said.</p>
-<p>Northrup sat down in the chair that was his by his mother’s
-hearth.</p>
-<p>“Kathryn wanted to marry me, Mother, at once.”</p>
-<p>“That would be like her, bless her heart!”</p>
-<p>“I could not accept the sacrifice, Mother.”</p>
-<p>“That would be like you––but is it a sacrifice?”</p>
-<p>“It seems so to me.”</p>
-<p>“You see, son, to many women this is the supreme offering.
-All <i>they</i> can give, vicariously, at this great demanding
-hour.”</p>
-<p>“Women must learn to stop that rubbish, Mother. We
-men must refuse it.”</p>
-<p>“Why, Brace!” Then: “Are you quite, quite sure it
-was all for Kathryn, son?”</p>
-<p>“No, partly for myself; but that must include and emphasize
-Kathryn’s share.”</p>
-<p>“I see––at least I think I do.”</p>
-<p>“But you have faith, Mother?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, faith! Surely, faith.”</p>
-<p>After a silence, broken only by the sputtering of the fire
-and that soft, mystic pattering of the snow on the window
-glass, Northrup asked gently:</p>
-<p>“And you, Mother, what will you do? I cannot bear to
-think of you waiting here alone.”</p>
-<p>Helen Northrup rose slowly from the couch; her long,
-loose gown trailed softly as she walked to the fireplace and
-stood leaning one elbow on the shelf.</p>
-<p>“I’m not going to––wait, dear, in the sense you mean.
-I’m going to work and get ready for your return.”</p>
-<p>“Work?” Northrup looked anxious. Helen smiled down
-upon him.</p>
-<p>“While you have been preparing,” she said, “so have I.
-There is something for me to do. My poor little craft that
-I have pottered at, keeping it alive and praying over it––my
-writing job, dear; I have offered for service. It has been
-accepted. It is my great secret––I’ve kept it for you as
-my last gift. When you come home, I’ll tell you about
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span>
-it. While you are away you must think of me, busy––busy!”</p>
-<p>Then she bent and laid her pale fine face against the dark
-bowed head.</p>
-<p>“You are tired, dear, very, very tired. You must go to
-bed and rest––there is so much to do; so much.”</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XXI' id='CHAPTER_XXI'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
-</div>
-<p>In King’s Forest many strange and awe-inspiring
-things had happened––but, as far as the Forest people
-knew, they were so localized that, like a cancer, they
-were eating in, deeper and deeper––to the death.</p>
-<p>The winter, with its continuous snow and cruel ice, had
-obliterated links; only certain centres glowed warm and alive,
-though even they ached with the pain of blows they had
-endured.</p>
-<p>The Mines. The Point. The Inn. The Little Yellow
-House. These throbbed and pulsated and to them, more
-often than of old––or so it seemed––the bell in the deserted
-chapel sent its haunting messages––messages rung out by unseen
-hands.</p>
-<p>“There’s mostly lost winds this winter,” poor Jan-an whimpered
-to Peneluna. “I have feelin’s most all the time. I’m
-scared early and late, and that cold my bones jingle.”</p>
-<p>Peneluna, softened and more silent than ever, comforted
-the girl, wrapped her in warmer clothes, and sent her scurrying
-across the frozen lake to the yellow house.</p>
-<p>“And don’t come back till spring!” she commanded.</p>
-<p>“Spring?” Jan-an paused as she was strapping on an old
-pair of skates that once belonged to Philander Sniff. “Spring?
-Gawd!”</p>
-<p>It was a terrific winter. The still, intense kind that grips
-every snowstorm as a miser does his money, hiding it in secret
-places of the hills where the divine warmth of the sun cannot
-find it.</p>
-<p>The wind, early in November, set in the north! Occasionally
-the “ha’nt wind” troubled it; wailed a bit and caught
-the belfry bell, and then gave up and sobbed itself away.</p>
-<p>At the inn a vague something––was it old age or lost faith?––was
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span>
-trying to conquer Peter’s philosophy and Aunt Polly’s
-spiritual vision. The <i>Thing</i>, whatever it was, was having a
-tussle, but it made its marks. Peter sat oftener by the fire
-with Ginger edging close to the leg that the gander had once
-damaged and which, now, acted as an indicator for Peter’s
-moods. When he did not want to talk his “leg ached.”
-When his heart sank in despair his “leg ached.” But Polly,
-a little thinner, a little more dim as to far-off visions, caught
-every mood of Peter’s and sent it back upon him like a boomerang.
-She met his silent hours with such a flare of talk that
-Peter responded in self-defence. His black hours she clutched
-desperately and held them up for him to look at after she
-had charged them with memories of goodness and love.</p>
-<p>As for herself? Well, Aunt Polly nourished her own brave
-spirit by service and an insistent, demanding cry of justice.</p>
-<p>“’Tain’t fair and square to hold anything against the
-Almighty,” she proclaimed, “till you’ve given Him a chance
-to show what He did things for.”</p>
-<p>Polly waxed eloquent and courageous; she kept her own
-faith by voicing it to others; it grew upon reiteration.</p>
-<p>Peter was in one of his worst combinations––silence and
-low spirits––when Polly entered the kitchen one early afternoon.
-A glance at the huddling form by the red-hot range
-had the effect of turning Polly into steel. She looked at Ginger,
-who reflected his master’s moods pathetically, and her
-steel became iron.</p>
-<p>“I suppose if I ask you, Peter, how you’re feeling,” she
-said slowly, calmly, “you’ll fling your leg in my face! It’s
-monstrous to see how an able-bodied man can use any old lie
-to save his countenance.”</p>
-<p>“My leg–––” Peter began, but Polly stopped him. She
-had hung her coat and hood in the closet and came to the fire,
-patting her thin hair in order and then stretching her small,
-blue-veined hands to the heat.</p>
-<p>“Don’t leg me, Peter Heathcote, I’m terrible ashamed of
-you. Terrible. So long as you <i>have</i> legs, brother––and you
-<i>have</i>!––I say use ’em. Half the troubles in this world are
-<i>think troubles</i>, laid to legs and backs and what not.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span></div>
-<p>“Where you been?” Peter eyed the stern little face glowering
-at him. “You look tuckered.”</p>
-<p>“I wasn’t tuckered until I set my eyes on you, Peter.
-I’ve been considerable set up to-day. I went to Mary-Clare’s.
-She is mighty heartening. She’s gathered all the
-children she can get and she’s teaching them. She’s mimicking
-the old doctor’s plan––making him live again, she calls it––and
-the Lord knows we need someone in the Forest who
-doesn’t set chewing his own troubles, but gets out and does
-things!”</p>
-<p>Peter winced and Polly rambled on:</p>
-<p>“It’s really wonderful the way that slip of a thing handles
-those children. She has made the yellow house like a fairy
-story––evergreens, red leaves and berries hanging about, and
-all the dogs with red-ribbon collars. They look powerful
-foolish, but they don’t look like poor Ginger, who acts as if
-he was being smothered!”</p>
-<p>Peter regarded the dog by his side and remarked sadly:</p>
-<p>“I guess we better change this dog’s name. Ginger is
-like an insult to him. Ginger! Lord-a-mighty, there ain’t
-no ginger left in him.”</p>
-<p>“Peter, you’re all wrong. There are times when I think
-Ginger is more gingery than ever. You don’t have to dash
-around after yer tail to prove yer ginger, the thinking part of
-you can be terrible nimble even when yer bones stiffen up.
-Ginger does things, brother, that sometimes makes my flesh
-creepy. Do you know what he does when he can get away
-from you?”</p>
-<p>“No.” Peter’s hair sprang up; his face reddened. Polly
-noted the good signs and took heart.</p>
-<p>“Why, he joins Mary-Clare’s dogs and fetches the littlest
-children to the yellow house. Carries lunch pails, pulls sleds,
-and I’ve seen that little crippled tot of Jonas Mills’ on Ginger’s
-back. Ain’t that ginger fur yer? I tell you, Peter,
-it’s you as ails that dog––he’s what you make him. I reckon
-the Lord, that isn’t unmindful of sparrows, takes notice of
-dogs.” Then suddenly, Polly demanded: “Peter, what is it,
-just?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></div>
-<p>Polly drew her diminutive rocker to the stove and settled
-back against its gay cretonne cushions––a vivid bird of
-Paradise flamed just where her aching head rested.</p>
-<p>“Well, Polly”––Peter slapped the leg that he had lied
-about––“you and I came to the Forest half a century ago
-and felt real perky. We thought, under God, we’d make the
-Forest something better; the people more like people. We
-came from a city with all sorts of patterns of folks; we had
-ideas. The Forest gave me health and we were grateful and
-chesty. It all keeps coming back and––and swamping me.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, brother, and what else?”</p>
-<p>“At first we did seem to count, under God, of course. We
-shut up the bar and fixed up the inn and we thought we was
-caring for folks and protecting ’em.” Peter gulped.</p>
-<p>“I guess the Lord can care for His own, Peter,” Polly remarked
-fiercely.</p>
-<p>“Then Maclin came!” Peter groaned out the words, for
-this was the crux of the matter.</p>
-<p>“Yes––Maclin came.” Aunt Polly wiped her eyes. “And
-I think, looking back, that something had to happen to wake
-us up! Maclin was a tester.”</p>
-<p>Peter gave a rumbling laugh.</p>
-<p>“Maclin a tester!” he repeated. “Lord, Polly, yer notions
-are more messing than clearing.”</p>
-<p>“Well, anyway, Peter Heathcote, Maclin came, and this I
-do say: places are like folks––if their constitutions are all
-right, they don’t take disease. Maclin was a disease, and we
-caught him! He settled on us and we hadn’t vim enough to
-know and understand what he was. If it hadn’t been Maclin
-it would have been another. As things are I do feel that
-Maclin has cleared our systems! The folks were wakened
-by him as nothing in the world could have wakened them.”</p>
-<p>Peter was not listening, he was thinking aloud.</p>
-<p>“All our years wasted! We felt so sure that we was capable
-that we just let folks fall into the hands of that evil man.
-Think of anything, bearing the image of God taking advantage
-of simple, honest people and letting them into what he
-did!”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></div>
-<p>“I never did think Maclin was in the image of God, Peter.
-All God’s children ain’t the spitting image of Him. And
-Maclin certainly did us a good turn when he found iron on the
-Point. The iron’s here––if he ain’t!”</p>
-<p>“He meant to turn that and his damned inventions against
-us. Betray us to an enemy! And us just sitting and letting
-him do it!”</p>
-<p>“Well, he didn’t do it!” Polly snapped. “And it seems
-like God is giving us another chance; same as He is the world.”</p>
-<p>Peter got up and stumped noisily about the kitchen much
-to Ginger’s surprise and discomfort.</p>
-<p>“We’re old, Polly,” he muttered; “the heart’s taken out
-of us. We led ’em astray because we didn’t lead ’em right.”</p>
-<p>“I’m not old.” Polly looked comically defiant. “And my
-heart’s where it belongs and on the job. It’s shame to us,
-Peter, if we don’t use every scrap that’s left of us to undo the
-failings of the past.”</p>
-<p>“And that night!” Peter groaned, recalling the night of
-Maclin’s arrest. “That’s what comes of being false to yer
-trust. Terrible, terrible! Twombley standing over Maclin
-with his gun after finding him flashing lights to God knows
-who, and then those government men hauling things out of
-his bags––why, Polly, in the middle of some black nights I
-get to seeing the look on Maclin’s face when he was caught!”</p>
-<p>“Now, brother, do be sensible and wipe the sweat off yer
-forehead. This room is stifling. Can’t you see, Peter, that
-at a time like that the Lord had to use what He had, and
-there was only us to use? Better Twombley’s gun than
-Maclin’s, and you know, full well, they found two ugly looking
-guns in Maclin’s bag all packed with papers and pictures
-of the mines and bits of our own rock––what showed iron.
-Peter, I ain’t a bloodthirsty woman and the Lord knows I
-don’t hunger for my fellow’s vitals, but I’m willing to give
-Maclin up to a righteous God. The Lord knows we couldn’t
-deal with the like of him.”</p>
-<p>“But, Polly”––poor Peter’s humanity had received a
-terrible jog––“the look on Maclin’s face––when he was
-caught!”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></div>
-<p>“Well! he ought to have had a look!” Polly snapped.
-“Several of us gave him looks. I remember that the Point
-men looked just as if it was resurrection day. They stiffened
-up and <i>I</i> say, Peter Heathcote, their backs ain’t slumped yet––oh!
-if only we could keep them stiff! It was an awful big
-thing to happen to a little place like the Forest. It’s terrible
-suggestive!”</p>
-<p>But Peter could not be diverted.</p>
-<p>“They were fearful rough with him––he, a trapped creature,
-Polly! I always feel as if one oughtn’t to harry a trapped
-thing. That’s not God’s way. It was all my fault! What
-was I a magistrate for––and just standing by––staring?”</p>
-<p>“Well, he should have held still––he put up fight. Brother,
-you make me indignant.”</p>
-<p>“They mauled him, Polly, mauled him. And they took
-him––to what?”</p>
-<p>Polly got up.</p>
-<p>“Peter,” she said, “you’re a sick man or you wouldn’t be
-such a fool. I always did hold that your easy-going ways
-might lead you into mush instead of clear vision, and it certainly
-looks as if I was right. What you need is a good
-spring tonic and more faith in God. Maclin was leading us
-into––what? Hasn’t he sent the old doctor’s boy into––what?
-The Almighty has got all sorts to deal with––and he’s got
-Maclin, but we’ve got what’s left. Peter, I put it up to you––what
-are we going to do about it?”</p>
-<p>“What can we do?” Peter placed his two hands on his
-wide-spread knees––for he had dropped exhausted into his
-chair. “Has any one heard of Larry?”</p>
-<p>This sudden question roused Aunt Polly; she had hoped it
-would not be asked.</p>
-<p>“Yes, Peter. Twombley has,” she faltered.</p>
-<p>“Where is he?” Peter’s mouth gaped.</p>
-<p>“The letter said that when he came back we’d be proud of
-him and”––Polly choked––“he begged our pardons––for
-Maclin. He’s gone to that war––over there. He said it
-was all he could do––with himself, to prove against Maclin.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></div>
-<p>A silence fell in the warm, sunny room. Then Polly spoke
-with a catch in her voice:</p>
-<p>“Twombley and Peneluna hold that we better not tell
-Mary-Clare. Better give Larry a chance to do his proving––before
-we get any hopes or fears to acting up.”</p>
-<p>“I guess that’s sensible,” Peter nodded, “he mightn’t do
-it, you know.”</p>
-<p>Polly was watching her brother. She saw the dejection
-dropping from his face like a mask; the hypnotism of fear and
-repulsion was losing its hold.</p>
-<p>“It’s powerful hot here!” Peter muttered, wiping his face.
-“And what in thunder ails that dog?”</p>
-<p>Ginger was certainly acting queer. He was circling
-around, sniffing, sniffing, his nose in the air, his tail wagging.
-He edged over to the door and smelt at the crack.</p>
-<p>“Fits?” Peter looked concerned. But Polly had an inspiration.</p>
-<p>“I believe, Peter,” she said solemnly, “Ginger smells––spring!
-I thought I did myself as I came along. There were
-fluffy green edges by the water. I do love edges, Peter!
-Let’s open the door wide, brother. We get so used to winter,
-and live so close, that sometimes we don’t know spring is
-near. But it is, Peter, it is always on the edge of winter and
-God has made dogs terrible knowing. See! There, now,
-Ginger old fellow, what’s the matter?”</p>
-<p>Polly flung the door open and Ginger gave a glad cry and
-leaped out. A soft breath of air touched the two gentle old
-people in the doorway and a fragrance of young, edgy things
-thrilled them.</p>
-<p>“Peter dear, spring is here!” Polly said this like a prayer.</p>
-<p>“Spring!” Peter’s voice echoed the sound. Then he turned
-to the closet for his coat and hat.</p>
-<p>“Where you going, brother?”</p>
-<p>The big bulky figure, ready for a new adventure, turned at
-the door.</p>
-<p>“Just going to the Point and stand by! We must take
-care of the old doc’s leavings. The iron, that boy of his, and––the
-rest. Come on, Ginger.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></div>
-<p>Polly watched the two pass from sight and then she readjusted
-her spectacles to the far-off angle.</p>
-<p>And while this was occurring at the inn there was a tap on
-the door of the yellow house, and with its welcoming characteristic
-in full play, the door swung in, leaving a tall woman
-on the threshold flushed and apologetic.</p>
-<p>“I never saw such a responsive door!” she said. “I really
-knocked very gently. Please tell me how far it is to the
-inn?”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare, her little group of children about her, looked
-up and smiled. The smile and the eyes made the stranger’s
-breath come a bit quicker.</p>
-<p>“Just three miles to the south.” Mary-Clare came close.
-“You are walking? I will send my little girl with you.
-Noreen?”</p>
-<p>But Jan-an was holding Noreen back.</p>
-<p>“She’s one of them other children of Eve!” she cautioned.
-“Don’t forget the other one!”</p>
-<p>“Thank you so much,” the stranger was speaking. “But
-may I rest here for a moment? These children––is it a
-school.”</p>
-<p>“A queer one, I’m afraid. We’re all teachers, all pupils––even
-the dogs.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare looked at her small group.</p>
-<p>“One has to do something, you know,” she said. “Something
-to help.”</p>
-<p>“Yes. And will you send the children away for a moment?
-I have something to say to you.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare’s face went white. Since Maclin’s exposure
-the girl knew a spiritual fear that never before had troubled
-her. Maclin and Larry! Doubt, uncertainty––they had
-done their worst for Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>When the children were gone the stranger leaned forward
-and said quietly:</p>
-<p>“I am Mrs. Dana––I am here on government business.
-There, my dear Mrs. Rivers, please do not be alarmed––I
-come as your friend; the friend of King’s Forest; it is on the
-map, you know.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></div>
-<p>The tears stood in Mary-Clare’s wide eyes, her lips trembled.</p>
-<p>“I conscript you!” Mrs. Dana leaned a little further toward
-Mary-Clare and took her hands. “I was directed to you,
-Mrs. Rivers. You must help me do away with a wrong impression
-of the Forest. Together we will tell a story to the
-outside world that will change a great many things. We will
-tell the truth and set the Forest free from suspicion.”</p>
-<p>“Oh! can we? Why, that would be the most splendid
-thing. We’re all so––so frightened.”</p>
-<p>“Yes. I know. See, I have my credentials”––Mrs. Dana
-took a notebook from her bag. “The mines––well, all the
-danger there is destroyed. The mines are cleaned out.”
-She was reading from her notes.</p>
-<p>“Yes.” Mary-Clare was impressed.</p>
-<p>“And there’s iron on the Point––we must get at that––you
-own the Point?”</p>
-<p>“No; I gave it to my husband.” The words were whispered.
-“And he sold it to a Mr. Northrup.” There was no
-holding back in King’s Forest these days.</p>
-<p>“I see. Well, we must get this Mr. Northrup busy, then.
-Where is he?”</p>
-<p>Mrs. Dana tucked the book away and her eyes looked
-kindly into Mary-Clare’s.</p>
-<p>“I do not know. He went to his––to the city––New
-York.”</p>
-<p>“And you have never heard from him?”</p>
-<p>“No.”</p>
-<p>“Well, Mrs. Rivers, I am your friend and the friend of the
-Forest. Together, we ought to be able to do it a good turn.
-And now, if you are willing, I would love to borrow your
-little girl.”</p>
-<p>On the lake road Noreen, after a few skirmishes, succumbed
-to one of her sudden likings––she abandoned herself to Mrs.
-Dana’s charm. With her head coquettishly set slantwise
-she fixed her grave eyes––they were very like her mother’s––on
-Mrs. Dana’s face.</p>
-<p>“I like the look of you,” she confided softly.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></div>
-<p>“I’m glad. I like the look of you very much, little
-Noreen.”</p>
-<p>“Do you know any stories or songs?” Noreen had her
-private test.</p>
-<p>“I used to, but it has been a long while since I thought
-about them. Do you know any, Noreen?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! many. My man taught me. He taught me to be
-unafraid, too.”</p>
-<p>“Your man, little girl?” Mrs. Dana turned her eyes away.</p>
-<p>“Yes’m. Jan-an, she’s a bit queer, you know, Jan-an says
-the ghost-wind brought him. He only stayed a little while,
-but things aren’t ever going to be the same again. No’m,
-not ever! He even liked Jan-an, and most folks don’t––at
-first. His name is Mr. Northrup, but Jan-an and I call him
-The Man.”</p>
-<p>“And he sang for you?”</p>
-<p>“Yes’m. We sang together, marching along––this way!”
-Noreen swung the hand that held hers. “Do you know––‘Green jacket,
-red cap’?” she asked.</p>
-<p>“I used to. It goes something like this––doesn’t it?</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>“Up the airy mountain</p>
-<p>Down the rustly glen–––</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>I have forgotten the rest.” Mrs. Dana closed her eyes.</p>
-<p>“Oh! that’s kingdiferous,” Noreen laughed with delight.
-“I’ll sing the rest, then we’ll sing together:</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>“We daren’t go a-hunting</p>
-<p><span class='indent2'> </span>For fear of little men.</p>
-<p>Wee folk, good folk</p>
-<p><span class='indent2'> </span>Trooping all together,</p>
-<p>Green jacket, red cap</p>
-<p><span class='indent2'> </span>And white owl’s feather.”</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>They were keeping step and singing, rather brokenly, for
-Noreen was thinking of her man and Mrs. Dana seemed
-searching, in a blur of moving men upon a weary road, for a
-little boy––a very little boy.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></div>
-<p>“Now, then,” Noreen insisted, “we can sing it betterer this
-time.</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>“Green jacket, red cap</p>
-<p><span class='indent2'> </span>And white owl’s feather.”</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>Suddenly Noreen stopped.</p>
-<p>“Your face looks funny,” she said. “Your lips are laughing,
-but your eyes––is it the sun in your eyes?”</p>
-<p>Mrs. Dana bent until her head was close to Noreen’s.</p>
-<p>“Little girl, little Noreen,” she said, “that is it––the sun
-is in my eyes.”</p>
-<p>“There’s the inn!” Noreen was uncomfortable. Things
-were not turning out quite as gaily as she hoped. Things
-did not, any more.</p>
-<p>“Shall I go right to the door with you?” she asked.</p>
-<p>“No. I want to go alone. Good-bye, Noreen.”</p>
-<p>“I hope you’ll stay a long time!” Noreen paused on the
-road.</p>
-<p>“Why, dear?”</p>
-<p>“Because Motherly liked you, and I like you. Good-bye.”</p>
-<p>And Mrs. Dana stayed a long time, though after the first
-week her sojourn was marked by incidents, not hours.</p>
-<p>“Seems like the days of the creation,” Peter confided to
-Twombley. “Let there be light––there was light! Get the
-Forest to work––and the Forest gets busy! Heard the church
-is going to be opened––and a school. Queer, Twombley,
-how her being a woman and the easy sort, too, doesn’t seem
-to stop her none.”</p>
-<p>Twombley shifted in his chair––the two men were sitting
-in the spring sunshine by Twombley’s door.</p>
-<p>“The Government’s behind her!” he muttered confidently.
-“And, Heathcote, I ain’t monkeying with the Government.
-Since that Maclin night––anything the Government asks of
-me, I hold up my hands.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, I reckon that’s safest.” Peter was uplifted, but
-cautious.</p>
-<p>“She’s set Peneluna to painting all the houses––yeller,”
-Twombley rambled on, the smell of fresh paint filling his nostrils.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span>
-“And you know what Peneluna is when she gets a
-start. Colour’s mighty satisfying, Peneluna says; but I
-guess there’s more in it than just colour. The Pointers get
-touchy about dirt, and creepy insects showing up on the
-’tarnal paint that’s slushed everywhere.”</p>
-<p>“Mighty queer doings!” Heathcote agreed.</p>
-<p>“The women are plumb crazy over this government
-woman,” Twombley went on, “and the children lap out of
-her hand. She and Mary-Clare are together early and late.
-Thick as corn mush.”</p>
-<p>Peter drew his chair closer.</p>
-<p>“Her and Mary-Clare is writing up the doings of the
-Forest,” he whispered. “Writing things allas makes me
-nervous. What’s writ––is fixed.”</p>
-<p>“Gosh! Heathcote; it’s like the Judgment Day and no
-place to hide in!”</p>
-<p>“That’s about it, Twombley. No place to hide in.”</p>
-<p>And then after weeks of strenuous effort Mrs. Dana went
-away as suddenly as she had come. She simply disappeared!
-But there was a peculiar sense of waiting in the Forest and a
-going on with what had been begun. The momentum carried
-the people along. The church was repaired, a school house
-started, the Point cleaned.</p>
-<hr class='tb' />
-<p>The summer passed, another winter––not so cruel as the
-last––and the spring came, less violently.</p>
-<hr class='tb' />
-<p>It was early summer when another event shook the none-too-steady
-Forest. Larry came home!</p>
-<p>Jan-an discovered him sitting on a mossy rock, his back
-against a tree. The girl staggered away from him––she
-thought she saw a vision.</p>
-<p>“It is––you, ain’t it?” she gasped.</p>
-<p>“What’s left of me––yes.” There was a strange new note
-in Rivers’s voice.</p>
-<p>Jan-an’s horror-filled eyes took in the significance of the
-words.</p>
-<p>“Where’s––the rest of you?” she gasped.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></div>
-<p>Larry touched the pinned-up leg of his trousers.</p>
-<p>“I paid a debt with the rest,” he said, and there was that
-in his voice that brought Jan-an closer to him.</p>
-<p>“Where yer bound for?” she asked, her dull face quivering.</p>
-<p>“I don’t know. A fellow gave me a lift and dropped me––here.”</p>
-<p>“You come along home!” Jan-an bent and half lifted
-Larry. “Lean on me. There, now, lean heavy and take it
-easy.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was sitting in the living-room, sewing and
-singing, when the sound of steps startled her. She looked
-up, then her face changed as a dying face does.</p>
-<p>“Larry!” she faltered. She was utterly unprepared.
-She had been kept in ignorance of the little that others knew.</p>
-<p>“I––I’m played out––but I can go on.” Larry’s voice was
-husky and he drooped against Jan-an. Then Mary-Clare
-came forward, her arms opened wide, a radiance breaking
-over her cold white face.</p>
-<p>“You have come––home, Larry! Home. Your father’s
-home.”</p>
-<p>And then Larry’s head rested on her shoulder; her arms
-upheld him, for the crutch clattered to the floor.</p>
-<p>“My father’s home,” he repeated like a hurt child––“that’s
-it––my father’s home.”</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XXII' id='CHAPTER_XXII'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
-</div>
-<p>But beyond that exalted moment stretched the plain,
-drear days. Days holding subtle danger and marvellous
-revelations.</p>
-<p>Larry, with his superficial gripping of surface things, grew
-merry and childishly happy. He had paid a debt, God knew.
-Shocked by the Maclin exposure, he had been roused to decency
-and purpose as he had never been before. He felt
-now that he had redeemed the past, and Mary-Clare’s gentleness
-and kindness meant but one thing to Rivers. And he
-wanted that thing. His own partial regeneration had been
-evolved through hours of remorse and contrition. Alone,
-under strange skies and during long, danger-filled nights, he
-had caught a glimpse of his poor, shivering soul, and it had
-brought him low in fear, then high in hope.</p>
-<p>“Perhaps, if I pay and pay”––he had pleaded with the sad
-thing––“I can win out yet!”</p>
-<p>And sitting in the warm, sunny room of the yellow house,
-Larry began to believe he had! It was always so easy for
-him to see one small spot.</p>
-<p>At the first he was a hero, and the Forest paid homage to
-him; listened at his shrine and fed his reviving ego. But
-heroes cloy the taste, in time, and the most thrilling tales
-wax dull when they are worn to shreds. More and more
-Larry grew to depend upon Mary-Clare and Noreen for
-company and upon Jan-an for a never-failing listener to his
-tales.</p>
-<p>Noreen, just now, puzzled Mary-Clare. The child’s old
-aversion to her father seemed to have passed utterly from
-her thought. She was devoted to him; touched his maimed
-body reverently, and wooed him from the sad moments that
-presently began to overpower him.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></div>
-<p>She assumed an old and protecting manner toward him
-that would have been amusing had it not been so tragically
-pathetic.</p>
-<p>Every afternoon Larry took a nap, sitting in an old
-kitchen rocker. Poised on the arm of the chair, her father’s
-head upon her tiny shoulder, Noreen sang him to sleep.</p>
-<p>“You’re my baby, daddy-linkum, and I’m your motherly.
-Come, shut your eyes, and lall a leep!”</p>
-<p>And Larry would sleep, often to awake with an unwholesome
-merriment that frightened Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>One late summer afternoon she was sitting with him by
-the open door. The beautiful hills opposite were still rich
-with flowers and green bushes. Suddenly Larry said:</p>
-<p>“It’s great, this being home!”</p>
-<p>“I’m glad home was here for you to come to, Larry.”
-Mary-Clare felt her heart beat quicker––not with love, but
-the growing fear.</p>
-<p>“Are you, honest?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Larry. Honest.”</p>
-<p>“I wonder.” It was the old voice now. “When I lay
-out there, and crawled along–––”</p>
-<p>“Please, Larry, we have agreed not to talk of that!”</p>
-<p>“Yes, I know, but even then, while I was crawling, I got
-to thinking what I was crawling back to––and counting the
-chances and whether it was worth while.”</p>
-<p>“Please, Larry!”</p>
-<p>“All right!” Then, in the new voice: “You’re beautiful,
-Mary-Clare. Sometimes, sitting here, I get to wondering if
-I really ever saw you before. Second sight, you know.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, second sight, Larry.”</p>
-<p>“And Noreen––she is mine, Mary-Clare.” This was
-flung out defiantly.</p>
-<p>“Part yours. Yes, Larry.”</p>
-<p>“She’s a great kid. Old as the hills and then again––a
-baby-thing.”</p>
-<p>“We must not strain her, Larry, we cannot afford to put
-too heavy a load on her. She would bear it until she dropped.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></div>
-<p>“Don’t get talking booky, Mary-Clare. You don’t as
-much as you once did.” A pause, then hardly above a
-whisper: “Do you go to the cabin in the woods now,
-Mary-Clare?”</p>
-<p>“I haven’t been there for a long while, Larry.” Mary-Clare’s
-hands clutched each other until the bones ached.</p>
-<p>“I’m sorry, Mary-Clare, God knows I am, for what I did
-up there. It was the note as drove me mad. Across––over
-there, I used to read that note, you and he were queer
-lots.”</p>
-<p>“Larry, I will not talk about that––ever!”</p>
-<p>“You can’t forgive?”</p>
-<p>“I have forgiven long ago.”</p>
-<p>“Nothing happened between you and him, Mary-Clare.
-You’re great stuff. Great! And so is he.”</p>
-<p>A thin, blue-veined hand stole out and rested on Mary-Clare’s
-head and Mary-Clare looked down at the empty place
-where Larry’s strong right leg should have been. A divine
-pity stirred her, but she knew now, as always, that Larry did
-not crave pity; sympathy; and the awful Truth upheld Mary-Clare
-in her weak moment. She would never again fail herself
-or him by misunderstanding.</p>
-<p>“When I’m well, Mary-Clare, you’ll be everything to
-me, won’t you? We’ll begin again. You, me, and little
-Noreen. You are lovely, girl! The lights in your hair
-dance, your neck is white, and–––”</p>
-<p>The heart of Mary-Clare seemed to stop as the groping
-fingers touched her.</p>
-<p>“Look at me, Mary-Clare!”</p>
-<p>There was the tone of the conqueror in the words––Larry
-laughed. Then Mary-Clare looked at him! Long and unfalteringly
-she let her eyes meet his, and there was that in
-them that no man misunderstands.</p>
-<p>“You mean you do not care?” Larry’s voice shook like
-a frightened child’s; “that you’ll never care?”</p>
-<p>“I care tremendously, Larry, and I will do my best. But
-you must not ask for more.”</p>
-<p>“Good God! and I crawled back for this!” The words
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span>
-ended in a sob; “for this! I thought I could pay but I
-cannot––ever, ever!”</p>
-<hr class='tb' />
-<p>And in the distant city Helen Northrup waited for her
-son. There had been a cable––then the long silence. He was
-on the way, that was all she knew.</p>
-<p>In the work-room Helen tried to keep to the routine of her
-days. Her work had saved her; strengthened her. Her
-contact with people had given her vision and sympathy.
-She was marvellously changed, but of that she took little
-heed.</p>
-<p>And then Northrup came, unannounced. He stood in
-the doorway of the room where his mother sat bent upon her
-task on the desk before her. For a moment he hardly knew
-her. He had feared to find her broken, crushed beyond the
-hope of health and joy. He had counted that possibility
-among the things that his experience had cost him. A wave
-of relief, surprise, and joy swept over him now.</p>
-<p>“Mother!”</p>
-<p>Helen paused––her pen held lightly––then she rose and
-came toward him. Her face Northrup was never to forget.
-So might a face look that welcomed the dead back to life.
-Just for one, poor human moment, they could not speak,
-they simply clung close. After that, life caught them in its
-common current.</p>
-<p>The afternoon, warm and sunny, made it possible for the
-windows to be open wide; there were flowers blooming in a
-window-box and a cool breeze, now and again, drew the white
-curtains out, then released them with a little sighing sound.
-The peacefulness and security stirred Northrup’s imagination.</p>
-<p>“It doesn’t seem possible, you know!” he said.</p>
-<p>“Being home, dear?” Helen watched him. Every new
-line of his fine brown face made her lips firmer.</p>
-<p>“Yes. I’d given up hope, and then when hope grew again
-I was afraid to crawl back. You’ll laugh, but I was afraid
-to come home and find things just the same! I couldn’t have
-stood it, after what I learned. I would have felt like a ghost.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span>
-A lot of fellows feel this way. It’s all a mistake for our home
-folks to think they’re doing the best for us by trying to fool
-us into forgetting.”</p>
-<p>“Brace, we’ve tried, all of us, to be worthy of you boys.
-Even they who attempt the thing you mention are doing it
-for the best. Often it is the hardest way.”</p>
-<p>They were both thinking of Kathryn. Monstrous as it
-might seem, Brace recalled her as she looked that day––pulling
-the shades of the automobile down! That ugly
-doubt had haunted him many times.</p>
-<p>Helen was half sick with fear of what would occur when
-Brace saw Kathryn.</p>
-<p>“I ought not keep you, son,” she said weakly. “You
-ought to go to Kathryn. No filial duty toward me, dear!
-I’m a terribly self-sufficient woman.”</p>
-<p>“Bully! And that’s why I want to have dinner with you
-alone. I’ve got used to the self-sufficient woman––I like
-her.”</p>
-<p>It was long after eight o’clock, that first evening, when
-Northrup left his mother’s house.</p>
-<p>So powerfully hypnotic is memory that as he walked along
-in the bland summer night he shivered and recalled the
-snowstorm that blotted him out after his last interview with
-Kathryn. With all earnestness he had prepared himself for
-this hour. He was ready to take up his life and live it well––only
-so could he justify what he had endured. His starved
-senses, too, rose to reinforce him. He craved the beauty,
-sweetness, and tenderness––though he was half afraid of
-them. They had so long been eliminated from his rugged existence
-that he wondered how he was again to take them as
-his common fare.</p>
-<p>He paused before touching the bell at the Morris house.
-Again that hypnotic shiver ran over him; but to his touch
-on the bell there was immediate response.</p>
-<p>“Will you wait, sir, in the reception-room?” The trim
-maid looked flurried. “I will tell Miss Kathryn at once.”</p>
-<p>Northrup sat down in the dim room, fragrant with flowers,
-and a sense of peace overcame his doubts.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></div>
-<p>Now the Morris house was curiously constructed. The
-main stairway and a stairway leading to a side entrance
-converged at the second landing, thus making it possible
-for any one to leave the house more privately, should he so
-desire, than by the more formal way.</p>
-<p>After leaving Northrup in the reception-room, the maid was
-stopped by Miss Anna Morris somewhere in the hall. A
-hurried whispered conversation ensued and made possible
-what dramatically followed.</p>
-<p>A door above opened––the library door––and it seemed to
-set free Kathryn’s nervous, metallic laugh and Sandy Arnold’s
-hard, indignant words:</p>
-<p>“What’s the hurry? I guess I understand.” Almost it
-seemed as if the girl were pushing the man before her. “I
-was good enough to pass the time with; pay for your fun
-while you weighed the chances.”</p>
-<p>“Please, Sandy, you are cruel.” Kathryn was pleading.</p>
-<p>“Cruel be damned! And what are you? I want you––you’ve
-told me that you loved me––what’s the big idea?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! Sandy, do lower your voice. Aunt Anna will think
-the servants are quarrelling.”</p>
-<p>“All right.” Sandy’s voice sank a degree. “But I’m
-going to put this to you square–––” The two above had
-come to the dividing stairways.</p>
-<p>“What in thunder!” Sandy gave a coarse laugh. “Keeping
-to the servant notion, eh? Want me to go out the side
-door? Why?”</p>
-<p>“Oh! Sandy, you won’t mind?––I have a reason, I’ll tell
-you some day.”</p>
-<p>There was a pause, a scuffle. Then:</p>
-<p>“Sandy, you are hurting me!”</p>
-<p>“All right, don’t struggle then. Listen. I’m going away
-for two weeks. You promise if Northrup comes home, during
-that time, to tell him?”</p>
-<p>“Yes; yes, dear,” the words came pantingly smothered.
-“All right, and if you don’t, I will! I’m not the kind to see
-a woman sacrifice herself for duty. By the Lord! Northrup
-shall know from you––or me! Now kiss me!”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></div>
-<p>There were the hurried steps––down the side stairs!
-Then flying ones to the library––the maid was on her way
-with her message––but Northrup dashed past her, nearly
-knocking her over.</p>
-<p>He strode heavily to the library door, which had been
-left open, and stood there. A devil rose in him as he gazed
-at the girl, a bit dishevelled, but lovely beyond words.</p>
-<p>For a moment, smiling and cruel, he thought he would
-let her incriminate herself; he would humiliate her and then
-fling her off. But this all passed like a blinding shock.</p>
-<p>Kathryn had turned at his approach. She stood at bay.
-He frightened her. Had he heard? Or was it mad passion
-that held him? Had he just come to the house refusing to
-be announced?</p>
-<p>“Brace! Brace!” she cried, her lovely eyes widening.
-“You have come.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn stepped slowly forward, her arms outstretched.
-She looked as a captive maiden might before the conqueror
-whose slave she was willing to become. As she advanced
-Northrup drew back. He reached a chair and gripped it.
-Then he said quietly:</p>
-<p>“You see, I happened to hear you and Arnold.”</p>
-<p>Kathryn’s face went deadly white.</p>
-<p>“I had to tell him something, Brace; you know how Sandy
-is––I knew I could explain to you; you would understand.”
-The pitiful, futile words and tone did not reach Northrup
-with appeal.</p>
-<p>“You can explain,” he said harshly, “and I think I will
-understand, but I want the explanation to come in my way,
-if you please. Just answer my questions. Have you ever
-told Arnold––what he just made you promise to tell me?”</p>
-<p>Kathryn stood still, breathing hard.</p>
-<p>“Yes or no!”</p>
-<p>The girl was being dragged to a merciless bar of judgment.
-She realized it and all her foolish defences fell; all but that
-power of hers to leap to some sort of safety. There still was
-Arnold!</p>
-<p>“Yes,” she said gaspingly.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></div>
-<p>“You mean you love Arnold; that only duty held you
-to me?”</p>
-<p>“Yes.”</p>
-<p>“Well, by God!” Northrup flung his head back and
-laughed––“and after all I have been fearing, too!”</p>
-<p>To her dying day Kathryn never knew what he meant by
-those words. There was a moment’s silence, then Northrup
-spoke again:</p>
-<p>“I don’t think there is anything more to say. Shall I
-take the side entrance?”</p>
-<p>Outside, the summer night was growing sultry; a sound of
-thunder broke the heavy quiet of the dark street––it brought
-back memories that were evil things to remember just then.</p>
-<p>“Good God!” Northrup thought, “we’re coming back to
-all kinds of hells.”</p>
-<p>He was bitter and cynical. He hardly took into account,
-in that hard moment, the feeling of release; all his foregone
-conclusions, his stern resolves, had been battered down.
-He had got his discharge with nothing to turn to.</p>
-<p>In this mood he reached home. More than anything he
-wanted to be by himself––but his mother’s bedroom door was
-open and he saw her sitting by the window, watching the
-flashes of heat lightning.</p>
-<p>He went in and stood near her.</p>
-<p>“I’ve about concluded,” he said harshly, “that the fellows
-who keep to the herd are the sensible ones.”</p>
-<p>The words conveyed no meaning to Helen Northrup, but
-the tones did.</p>
-<p>“Sit down, dear,” she said calmly. “If this shower
-strikes us, I do not want to be alone.”</p>
-<p>Northrup drew a chair to the window and the red flashes
-lighted his face luridly.</p>
-<p>“Having ideals is rot. Dying for them, madness. Mother,
-it’s all over between Kathryn and me!”</p>
-<p>Helen’s own development had done more for her than she
-would ever realize, but from out its strength and security
-she spoke:</p>
-<p>“Brace, I am glad! Now you can live your ideals.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></div>
-<p>Northrup turned sharply.</p>
-<p>“What do you mean?” he said.</p>
-<p>“Oh! we’ve all been so stupid; so blind. Seeing the false
-and calling it the truth. Being afraid; not daring to let go.
-My work has set me free, son. Lately I have seen the girl
-that Kathryn <i>really</i> is, looming dark over the girl she made
-us believe she was. I have feared for you, but now I am
-glad. Brace, there <i>are</i> women a man can count on. Cling
-hold of that.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, I know that, of course.”</p>
-<p>“Women whose honour is as high and clear as that of the
-best of men.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Mother.”</p>
-<p>Helen looked at the relaxed form close to her. She yearned
-to confide fully in him, tell him how she had guarded his
-interests while he fared afar from her. She thought of
-Mary-Clare and the love and understanding that now lay
-between her and the girl whose high honour could, indeed,
-be trusted.</p>
-<p>But she realized that this son of hers was not the kind of
-man whose need could be supplied by replacing a loss with
-a possible gain. He had been dealt a cruel blow and must
-react from it sanely. The time was not yet come for the
-telling of the King’s Forest story.</p>
-<p>Northrup needed comfort, Heaven knew, but it must come
-from within, not without.</p>
-<p>At that instant Helen Northrup gripped the arms of her
-chair and sent a quick prayer to the God of mothers of
-grown sons.</p>
-<p>“The storm seems to be passing,” she said quietly.</p>
-<p>“Yes, and the air is cooler.” Northrup stood up and
-his face was no longer hopeless. “Are you going to stay in
-town all summer?” he asked.</p>
-<p>“I was waiting for you, dear. As soon as you get settled
-I must take a short trip. Business, you know. I do enjoy
-the short trips, the comings home; the feeling of moving
-along; not being relegated to an armchair.”</p>
-<p>“Mother, how <i>did</i> you do it?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></div>
-<p>“Oh! it was easy enough, once I threw off my own identity.
-Identities are so cramping, Brace; full of suggestions and
-fears. I took my mother’s maiden name––Helen Dana.
-After that, I just flew ahead.”</p>
-<p>“Well, I won’t hold you back. You’re too good for that,
-Mother. I’ve kept the old tower room. I’m going to try
-to finish my book, now. Somehow I got to thinking it
-dead; but lately I’ve sort of heard it crying out for me. I
-hope the same little elevator devil is on the job yet. Funny,
-freckled scamp. He kissed me when I went away––I
-thought he was going to cry. Queer how a fellow remembered
-things like that over there. The little snapshots were
-fixed pictures––and some rather big-sized things shrank.”</p>
-<p>They bade each other good-night. Mother and son,
-they looked marvellously alike at that moment. Then:</p>
-<p>“I declare, I almost forgot Manly. How has this all
-struck him, Mother?”</p>
-<p>Helen’s face was radiant.</p>
-<p>“Gave up everything! His hard-won position, his late
-comfort and ease. He will have to begin again––he is where
-he says he belongs––mending and patching.”</p>
-<p>“He’ll reach the top, Mother. Manly’s bound for the
-top of things.”</p>
-<hr class='toprule' />
-<div class='chsp'>
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span>
-<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a>
-<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
-</div>
-<p>Northrup found his tower room but little changed.
-The dust lay upon it, and a peace that had not held
-part during the last days before he went away
-greeted him. More and more as he sat apart the truth of
-things came to him; he accepted the grim fact that all,
-everything, is bound by a chain, the links of which must hold,
-or, if they are broken, they must be welded again together.
-The world; people; everything in time must pause while
-repairs were made, and he had done his best toward the mending
-of a damaged world: toward righting his own mistakes.</p>
-<p>It was slow work. Good God! how slow, and oh, the
-suffering!</p>
-<p>He had paid a high price but he could now look at his
-city without shame.</p>
-<p>This was a fortifying thought, but a lonely one, and it
-did not lead to constructive work. The days were listless
-and empty.</p>
-<p>Northrup got out his manuscript––there was life in it, he
-made sure of that, but it was feeble and would require intelligent
-concentration in order to justify its existence.</p>
-<p>But the intelligence and concentration were not in his
-power to bestow.</p>
-<p>After a few days he regarded his new freedom with strange
-exhilaration mingled with fear and distrust.</p>
-<p>So much had gone down in the wreck with Kathryn. So
-much that was purely himself––not her––that readjustment
-was slow. How would it have been, he wondered, back in
-the King’s Forest days, had he not been upheld by a sense
-of duty to what was now proven false and wrong?</p>
-<p>One could err in duty, it seemed.</p>
-<p>He was free! He had not exacted freedom! It had been
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span>
-thrust upon him so brutally, that it had, for a spell, sent him
-reeling into space.</p>
-<p>Not being able to resume his work, Northrup got to
-thinking about King’s Forest with concentration, if not intelligence.</p>
-<p>He had purposely refrained, while he was away, from
-dwelling upon it as a place in which he had some rights. He
-used, occasionally, to think of Twombley, sitting like a silent,
-wary watch-dog, keeping an eye on his interests. He had
-heard of the Maclin tragedy––Helen Northrup felt it wise
-to give him that information while withholding much more;
-that was, in a way, public knowledge.</p>
-<p>Things were at least safe now in the Forest, Northrup
-believed. This brought him to the closer circle. He felt
-a sudden homesickness for the inn and the blessed old pair.
-A kind of mental hunger evolved from this unwholesome
-brooding that drove Northrup, as hunger alone can, to snatch
-whatever he could for his growing desire to feed upon.</p>
-<p>He shifted his thoughts from Mary-Clare and the Heathcotes
-to Larry Rivers. Where was he? Had he kept his
-part of the bargain? What had Mary-Clare done with her
-hard-won freedom?</p>
-<p>Sitting alone under his dome of changing lights, Northrup
-became a prey to whimsical fancies that amused while they
-hurt.</p>
-<p>As the lighted city rose above the coarser elements that
-formed it, so the woman, Mary-Clare, towered over other
-women. Such women as Kathryn! The bitterness of pain
-lurked here as, unconsciously, Northrup went back over the
-wasted years of misplaced faith.</p>
-<p>The sweet human qualities he knew were not lacking in
-Mary-Clare. They were simply heightened, brightened.</p>
-<p>All this led to but one thing.</p>
-<p>Something was bound to happen, and suddenly Northrup
-decided to go to King’s Forest!</p>
-<p>Once this decision was reached he realized that he had been
-travelling toward it since the night of his scene with Kathryn.
-The struggle was over. He was at rest, and began cheerfully
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span>
-to make preparations. Of course, he argued, he meant to
-keep the spirit, if not the letter, of his agreement with Larry
-Rivers.</p>
-<p>This was not safe reasoning, and he set it aside impatiently.</p>
-<p>He waited a few days, deliberating, hoping his mother
-would return from a visit she was making at Manly’s hospital
-in the South. When at the end of a week no word came
-from her, he packed his grip and set forth, on foot again,
-for the Forest.</p>
-<p>He did the distance in half the time. His strong, hardened
-body served him well and his desire spurred him on.</p>
-<p>When he came in sight of the crossroads a vague sense
-of change struck him. The roads were better. There was
-an odd little building near the yellow house. It was the
-new school, but of that Northrup had not heard. From the
-distance the chapel bell sounded. It did not have that lost,
-weird note that used to mark it––there was definiteness
-about it that suggested a human hand sending forth a
-friendly greeting.</p>
-<p>“Queer!” muttered Northrup, and then he did a bold
-thing. He went to the door of the yellow house and knocked.
-He had not intended to do that.</p>
-<p>How quiet it was within! But again the welcoming door
-swayed open, and for a moment Northrup thought the room
-was empty, for his eyes were filled with the late afternoon
-glow.</p>
-<p>It was autumn and the days were growing short.</p>
-<p>Then someone spoke. Someone who was eager to greet
-and hold any chance visitor. “Come in, Mary-Clare will be
-back soon. She never stays long.”</p>
-<p>At that voice Northrup slammed the door behind him and
-strode across the space separating him from Larry Rivers!</p>
-<p>Larry sat huddled in the chintz rocker, his crutch on the
-floor, his thin, idle hands clasped in his lap. He wore his
-uniform, poor fellow! It gave him a sense of dignity. His
-eyes, accustomed to the dimmer light, took in the situation
-first; he smiled nervously and waited.</p>
-<p>Northrup in a moment grasped the essentials.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span></div>
-<p>“So you’ve been over there, too?” was what he said.
-The angry gleam in his eyes softened. At least he and Rivers
-could speak the common language of comrades-in-arms.</p>
-<p>“Yes, I’ve been there,” Larry answered. “When I came
-back, I had nowhere else to go. Northrup, you wonder
-why I am here. Good God! How I’ve wanted to tell you.”</p>
-<p>“Well, I’m here, too, Rivers. Life has been stronger than
-either of us. We’ve both drifted back.”</p>
-<p>Larry turned away his head. It was then that Northrup
-caught the full significance of what life had done to Rivers!</p>
-<p>“Northrup, let me talk to you. Let me plunge in––before
-any one comes. They won’t let me talk. It’s like
-being in prison. It’s hell. I’ve thought of you, you’re the
-only one who can really help. And I dared not even ask
-for you!”</p>
-<p>Larry was now nervously twisting his fingers, and his
-face grew ashen.</p>
-<p>“I’m listening, Rivers. Go on.”</p>
-<p>Northrup had a feeling as if he were back among those
-scenes where time was always short, when things that must
-be said hurriedly gripped a listener. The conventions were
-swept aside.</p>
-<p>“They––they couldn’t understand, anyway,” Larry broke
-in. “They’ve got a fixed idea of me; they wouldn’t know
-what it was that changed me, but you will.</p>
-<p>“Everyone’s kind. I haven’t anything to complain of,
-but good God! Northrup, I’m dying, and what’s to be done––must
-be done quickly. You––see how it is?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Rivers, I see.” There could be no mercy in deceiving
-this desperate man.</p>
-<p>“I knew you would. Day after day, lately, I’ve been
-saying that over in my mind. I remembered the night in the
-shack on the Point. I knew you would understand!”</p>
-<p>“Perhaps your longing brought me, Rivers. Things like
-that happen, you know.”</p>
-<p>Northrup, moved by pity, laid his hand on the shrunken
-ones near him. All feeling of antagonism was gone.</p>
-<p>“It began the night I was shot,” Larry’s voice fell,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span>
-“and Mary-Clare will not let me talk of those times. She
-thinks the memory will keep me from getting well! Good
-Lord! Getting well! Me!</p>
-<p>“There were two of us that night, Northrup, two of us
-crawling away from the hell in the dark. You know!”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Rivers, I know.”</p>
-<p>“I’d never met him––the other chap––before, but we got
-talking to each other, when we could, so as to––to keep
-ourselves alive. I told him about Mary-Clare and Noreen.
-I couldn’t think of anything else. There didn’t seem to
-be anything else. The other fellow hadn’t any one, he
-said.</p>
-<p>“When help came, there was only room for one. One had
-to wait.</p>
-<p>“That other chap,” Larry moistened his lips in the old
-nervous fashion that Northrup recalled, “that other chap
-kept telling them about my wife and child––he said he could
-wait; but they must take me!</p>
-<p>“God! Northrup, I think I urged them to take him.
-I hope I did, but I cannot remember––I might not have,
-you know. I can remember what he said, but I can’t recall
-what I said.”</p>
-<p>“I think, Rivers, you played fair!”</p>
-<p>“Why? Northrup, what makes you think that?” The
-haggard face seemed to look less ghastly.</p>
-<p>“I’ve seen others do it at such a time.”</p>
-<p>“Others like me?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Rivers, many times.”</p>
-<p>“Well, there were weeks when nothing mattered,” Larry
-went on, “and then I began to come around, but something
-in me was different. I wanted, God hearing me, Northrup,
-I wanted to make what that other chap had done for me––worth
-while.</p>
-<p>“When I got to counting up what I’d gone through and
-holding to the new way I felt, I began to get well––and––then
-I came home. Came to my father’s house, Northrup––that’s
-what Mary-Clare said when she saw me.</p>
-<p>“That’s what it is––my father’s house. You catch on?”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></div>
-<p>“Yes, Rivers, I catch on.” Then after a pause: “Let
-me light the lamp.” But Rivers caught hold of him.</p>
-<p>“No, don’t waste time––they may come back at any
-moment––there’ll never be another chance.”</p>
-<p>“All right, go on, Rivers.”</p>
-<p>The soft autumn day was drawing to its close, but the west
-was still golden. The light fell on the two men near the
-window; one shivered.</p>
-<p>“There isn’t much more to say. I wanted you to know
-that I’m not going to be in the way very long.</p>
-<p>“You and I talked man to man once back there in the
-shack. Northrup, we must do it now. We needn’t be damned
-fools. I’ve got a line on Mary-Clare and yes, thank God! on
-you. I can trust you both. She mustn’t know. When it’s
-all over, I want her to have the feeling that she’s played
-square. She has, but if she thought I felt as I do to-day,
-it would hurt her. You understand? She’s like that.
-Why, she’s fixed it up in her mind that I’m going to pull
-through, and she’s braced to do her part to the end; but”––here
-Larry paused, his dull eyes filled with hot tears; his
-strength was almost gone––“but I wanted you to help her––if
-it means what it once did to you.”</p>
-<p>“It means that and more, Rivers.”</p>
-<p>Northrup heard his own words with a kind of shock.
-Again he and Rivers were stripped bare as once before they
-had been.</p>
-<p>“It––it won’t be long, Northrup––there’s damned little
-I can do to––to make good, but––I can do this.”</p>
-<p>The choking voice fell into silence. Presently Northrup
-stood up. Years seemed to have passed since he had come
-into the room. It was a trick of life, in the Forest, when big
-things happened––they swept all before them.</p>
-<p>“Rivers, you are a brave man,” he slowly said. “Will
-you shake hands?”</p>
-<p>The thin cold fingers instantly responded.</p>
-<p>“God helping me, I will not betray your trust. Once I
-would not have been so sure of myself, but you and I have
-been taught some strange truths.”</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></div>
-<p>Then something of the old Larry flashed to the surface:
-the old, weak relaxing, the unmoral craving for another’s
-solution of his problems.</p>
-<p>“Oh, it always has to be someone to help me out,” he said.</p>
-<p>“You know about Maclin?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Rivers.”</p>
-<p>“Well, I did the turn for that damned scoundrel. I got
-the Forest out of his clutches.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, you did when you got your eyes opened, Rivers.”</p>
-<p>“They’re open now, Northrup, but there always has to
-be––someone to help me out.”</p>
-<p>“Rivers, where is your wife?” So suddenly did Northrup
-ask this that Larry started and gave a quick laugh.</p>
-<p>“She went to that cabin of hers––you know?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, I know.”</p>
-<p>Both men were reliving old scenes.</p>
-<p>Then Larry spoke, but the laugh no longer rang in his tone:</p>
-<p>“She’ll be coming, by now, down the trail,” he whispered.
-“Go and meet her, tell her you’ve been here, that I told you
-where she was––nothing more! Nothing more. Ever!”</p>
-<p>“That’s right, never!” Northrup murmured. Then he
-added:</p>
-<p>“I’ll come back with her, Rivers, soon. I’m going to stay
-at the inn for a time.”</p>
-<p>Their hands clung together for a moment longer while
-one man relinquished, the other accepted. Then Northrup
-turned to the door.</p>
-<p>There was a dull purplish glow falling on the Forest. The
-subtle, haunting smell of wood smoke rose pungently. It
-brought back, almost hurtingly, the past. Northrup walked
-rapidly along the trail. Hurrying, hurrying to meet––he
-knew not what!</p>
-<p>Presently he saw Mary-Clare, from a distance, in the
-ghostly woods. Her head was bowed, her hands clasped
-lightly before her. There was no haste, no anticipation in her
-appearance; she simply came along!</p>
-<p>The sight of youth beaten is a terrible sight, and Mary-Clare,
-off her guard, alone and suffering, believed herself
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span>
-beaten. She was close to Northrup before she saw him.
-For a moment he feared the shock was going to be too great
-for her endurance. She turned white––then the quick red
-rose threateningly, the eyes dimmed.</p>
-<p>Northrup did not speak––he could not. With gratitude he
-presently saw the dear head lift bravely, the trembling smile
-curl her cold lips.</p>
-<p>“You––have come!”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Mary-Clare.”</p>
-<p>“How––did you know––where I was?”</p>
-<p>“I stopped at the yellow house. I saw your––I saw Larry––he
-told me where to find you.”</p>
-<p>“He told you that?”</p>
-<p>The bravery flickered––but pride rallied.</p>
-<p>“He is very changed.” The words were chosen carefully.
-“He is very patient and––and Noreen loves him. She never
-could have, if he had not come back! She––well, you remember
-how she used to take care of me?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, Mary-Clare.”</p>
-<p>“She takes care of her father in that way, now that she
-understands his need.”</p>
-<p>“She would. That would be Noreen’s way.”</p>
-<p>“Yes, her way. And I am glad he came back to us. It
-might all have been so different.”</p>
-<p>There was a suggestion of passionate defence in the low,
-hurried words, a quick insistence that Northrup accept her
-position as she herself was doing.</p>
-<p>“Yes, Mary-Clare. Your old philosophy has proved itself.”</p>
-<p>“I am glad you believe that.”</p>
-<p>“I have come to the Forest to tell you so. The things
-that do not count drop away. We do not have to push them
-from our lives.”</p>
-<p>“Oh! I am glad to hear you say that.”</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare caught her breath.</p>
-<p>There seemed to be nothing to keep them apart now––a
-word, a quick sentence were all that were necessary to bridge
-the past and the present. Neither dared consider the future.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span></div>
-<p>The small, common things crept into the conversation for
-a time, then Mary-Clare asked hesitatingly:</p>
-<p>“You––you are happy? And your book?”</p>
-<p>“The book is awaiting its time, Mary-Clare. I must live
-up to it. I know that now. And the girl you once saw here,
-well! that is all past. It was one of those things that fell
-away!”</p>
-<p>There was nothing to say to this, but Northrup heard a
-sharp indrawing of the breath, and felt the girl beside him
-stumble on the darkening trail.</p>
-<p>“You know I went across the water to do my part?” he
-asked quickly.</p>
-<p>“You would, of course. That call found such men as you.
-Larry went, too!” This came proudly.</p>
-<p>“Yes, and he paid more than I did, Mary-Clare.”</p>
-<p>“He had more to pay––there was Maclin. Do you know
-about Maclin?”</p>
-<p>“Yes. It was damnable. We all scented the evil, but
-we’re not the sort of people to believe such deviltry until it’s
-forced upon us.”</p>
-<p>“It frightened us all terribly,” Mary-Clare’s voice would
-always hold fear when she spoke of Maclin. “I do not know
-what would have happened to the Forest if––a Mrs. Dana
-had not come just when things were at the worst.”</p>
-<p>There are occurrences in life that seem always to have been
-half known. Their acceptance causes no violent shock. As
-Mary-Clare spoke that name, Northrup for a moment paused,
-repeated it a bit dazedly, and, as if a curtain had been withdrawn,
-he saw the broad, illuminating truth! “You have
-heard of Mrs. Dana?” Mary-Clare asked. That Northrup
-knew so much did not surprise her.</p>
-<p>“Yes, of course! And it would be like her to drop in at
-the psychological moment.”</p>
-<p>“She set us to work!” Mary-Clare went on. “She is the
-most wonderful woman I ever knew.”</p>
-<p>“She must be!”</p>
-<p>Slower and slower the two walked down the trail. They
-were clutching the few golden moments.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></div>
-<p>It was quite dark when they came to the yellow house.
-The door was wide open, the heart of the little home lay bare
-to the passer-by.</p>
-<p>Jan-an was on her knees by the hearth, puffing to life the
-kindlings she had lighted. Larry’s chair was drawn close
-and upon its arm Noreen was perched.</p>
-<p>“They always leave it so for me,” Mary-Clare whispered.
-“You see how everything is?”</p>
-<p>“Yes, I see, Mary-Clare.”</p>
-<p>Northrup reached forth and drew the small clasped hands
-into his own!––then he bent and kissed them.</p>
-<p>“I see, I see.”</p>
-<p>“And you will come in? Larry loves company.”</p>
-<p>“Not to-night, Mary-Clare, but to-morrow. I am going
-to stay at the inn for a few days.”</p>
-<p>“Oh! I am glad!” Almost the brave voice broke.</p>
-<p>“There is something else I see, my dear,” Northrup
-ignored the poor disguise for a moment. “I see the meaning
-of <i>you</i> as I never saw it before. You have never broken
-faith! That is above all else––it is all else.”</p>
-<p>“I have tried.” Upon the clasped hands tears fell, but
-Northrup caught the note of joy in her grieving voice.</p>
-<p>“You have carried on what your doctor entrusted to you.”</p>
-<p>“Oh! thank you, bless you for saying that.”</p>
-<p>“Good-night.” Northrup released the cold hands––they
-clung for a moment in a weak, human way. “There is to-morrow,
-you know,” he whispered.</p>
-<p>Alone, a little later, on the road, Northrup experienced that
-strange feeling of having left something back there in the
-yellow house.</p>
-<p>He heard the water lapping the edge of the road where
-the sumach grew; the bell, with its new tone, sounded clearly
-the vesper hour; and on ahead the lights of the inn twinkled.</p>
-<p>And then, as if hurrying to complete the old memory,
-Mary-Clare seemed to be following, following in the darkness.</p>
-<p>Northrup’s lips closed grimly. He squared his shoulders
-to his task.</p>
-<p>He must go on, keeping his mind fixed upon the brighter
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span>
-hope that Mary-Clare could not, now, see; must not now
-see. For her, there must be the dark stretch; for him the
-glory of keeping the brightness undimmed––it must be a
-safe place for her to rest in, by and by. “She has kept the
-faith with life,” Northrup thought. “She will keep it with
-death––but love must keep faith with her.”</p>
-<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p>
-
-<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 3.15 -->
-<!-- timestamp: Sat Sep 26 05:45:39 -0400 2009 -->
-
-<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30095 ***</div>
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+<!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"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of At the Crossroads, by Harriet T. 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COMSTOCK</p></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><hr style='border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black;' /></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td> + <p style='margin-left:1em;'> + <span class='smcap'>A Little Dusky Hero</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>A Son of the Hills</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>At the Crossroads</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>Camp Brave Pine</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>Janet of the Dunes</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>Joyce of the North Woods</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>Mam’selle Jo</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>Princess Rags and Tatters</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>The Man Thou Gavest</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>The Place Beyond the Winds</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>The Shield of Silence</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>The Vindication</span><br /> + <span class='smcap'>Unbroken Lines</span></p> + </td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' width='371' height='561' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>It might have seemed an empty house but for the appearance<br /> +of care and a curl of smoke from the chimney.</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style="background-image:url('images/img-title.png'); width:444px; height:644px; margin:auto;" summary="title page"> +<tr><td> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.6em;margin-bottom:15px;'>At the Crossroads</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;'>BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.6em;'>HARRIET T. COMSTOCK</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'> +<div style='margin:0 auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.jpg' /> +</div> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;'>FRONTISPIECE<br />BY<br />WALTER DE MARIS</p> +<p class='tp' >GARDEN CITY NEW YORK</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;'>DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</p> +<p class='tp' >1922</p> +</td></tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:20px;font-size:smaller;'>COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY<br />DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:10px;'>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION<br />INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em;margin-bottom:20px;'>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES<br />AT<br />THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y.</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2>AT THE CROSSROADS</h2> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div> +<h2>AT THE CROSSROADS</h2> +<p>The great turning points of life are often rounded unconsciously. +Invisible tides hurry us on and only +when we are well past the curve do we realize what has +happened to us.</p> +<p>Brace Northrup, sitting in Doctor Manly’s office, smoking +and ruminating, was not conscious of turning points or tides; +he was sluggish and depressed; wallowing in the after-effects +of a serious illness.</p> +<p>Manly, sitting across the hearth from his late patient––he +had shoved him out of that category––regarded him from +the viewpoint of a friend.</p> +<p>Manly was impressionistic in his methods of thought and +expression. Every stroke told.</p> +<p>The telephone had not rung for fifteen minutes but both +men knew its potentialities and wanted to make the most of +the silence.</p> +<p>“Oh! I confess,” Northrup admitted, “that my state of +gloom is due more to the fact that I cannot write than to my +sickness. I’m done for!”</p> +<p>Manly looked at his friend and scowled.</p> +<p>“Rot!” he ejaculated. Then added: “The world would +not perish if you didn’t write again.”</p> +<p>“I’m not thinking about the world,” Northrup was intent +upon the fire, “it’s how the fact is affecting me. The world +can accept or decline, but I am made helpless. You see my +work is the only real, vital thing I have clawed out of life, +by my own efforts, Manly; that means a lot to a fellow.”</p> +<p>Manly continued to scowl. Had Northrup been watching +him he might have gained encouragement, for Manly’s scowls +were proof of his deeply moved sympathies.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span></div> +<p>“The trouble with you, old man,” he presently said, “is +this: You’ve been dangerously ill; you thought you were +going to slip out, and so did I, and all the others. You’re like +the man who fell on the battlefield and thought his legs were +shot off. You’ve got to get up and learn to walk again. +We’re all suggesting the wrong thing to you. Go where +people don’t know, don’t care a damn for you. Take to the +road. That ink-slinging self that you are hankering after is +just ahead. You’ll overtake it, but it will never turn back +for you––the self that you are now.”</p> +<p>Manly fidgeted. He hated to talk. Then Northrup said +something that brought Manly to his feet––and to several +minutes of restless striding about the room.</p> +<p>“Manly, while I was at my worst I couldn’t tell whether it +was delirium or sanity, I saw that Thing across the +water, the Thing that for lack of a better name we call war, in +quite a new light. It’s what has got us all and is shaking +us into consciousness. We’re going to know the true from +the false when this passes. My God! Manly, I wonder if +any of us know what is true and what isn’t? Ideals, nations, +folks!”</p> +<p>Northrup’s face flushed.</p> +<p>“See here, old man,” Manly paused, set his legs wide apart +as if to balance himself and pointed a finger at Northrup, +“You’ve got to cut all this out and––beat it! Whatever that +damned thing is over there, it isn’t our mess. It’s the eruption +of a volcano that’s been bubbling and sizzling for years. +The lava’s flowing now, a hot black filth, but it’s going to stop +before it reaches us.”</p> +<p>“I wonder, Manly, I wonder. It’s more like a divining +rod to me, finding souls.”</p> +<p>“Very well. Now I’m going to put an ugly fact up to you, +Northrup. Your body is all right, but your nerves are +frayed and unless you mind your step you’re going to go +dippy. Catch on? There are places where nothing happens. +Nothing ever has happened. Go and find such a hole +and stay in it a month, six weeks––longer, if you can. Be a +part of the nothingness and save your life. Break all the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +commandments, if there are any, but don’t look back! I’ve +seen big cures come from letting go! I’ll look after your +mother and Kathryn.”</p> +<p>The telephone here interrupted.</p> +<p>“All right! all right!” snapped Manly into the receiver, +“set the operation for ten to-morrow and have the hair +shaved from the side of her head.”</p> +<p>Then he turned back to Northrup as if disfiguring a woman +were a matter of no importance.</p> +<p>“The fact is, Northrup, most of us get glued to our own +narrow slits in the wall, most of us are chained to them by our +jobs and we get to squinting, if we don’t get blinded. I’m +not saying that we don’t each have a slit and should know it; +but your job requires moving about and peering through +other fellows’ slits, and lately, ever since that last book +of yours, you’ve kept to your hole; the fever caught you +at the wrong time and this mess across seas has got mixed +up with it all until you’re no use to yourself or any one else. +Beat it!”</p> +<p>Something like a wave of fresh air seemed to have entered +the quiet, warm room. Northrup raised his head. Manly +took heed and rambled on; he saw that he was making an impression +at last.</p> +<p>“Queer things jog you into consciousness when you detach +yourself from your moorings. A mountain-top, a baby’s hold +on your finger, when you’re about to hurt it. A sunset, a +woman’s face; a moment when you realize your soul! You’re +never the same after, Northrup, but you do your job better +and your slit in the wall is wider. Man, you need a jog.”</p> +<p>“What jogged you, Manly?”</p> +<p>This was daring. People rarely questioned Manly.</p> +<p>“It was seeing my soul!” Quite simply the answer came.</p> +<p>There was a long, significant silence. Both men had to +travel back to the commonplace and they felt their way +gingerly.</p> +<p>“Northrup, drop things. It is your friend speaking now. +Go where the roar and rumble of what doesn’t concern you +haven’t reached. Good-night.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span></div> +<p>Northrup got up slowly.</p> +<p>“I wonder if there is such a place?” he muttered.</p> +<p>“Sure, old man. Outside of this old sounding-board of +New York, there are nooks where nothing even echoes. +Usually you find good fishing in them. Come now, get out!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_I' id='CHAPTER_I'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +</div> +<p>Brace Northrup received the first intimation of +his jog when he knocked on the door of a certain +little yellow house set rakishly at the crossroads, a +few miles from King’s Forest.</p> +<p>The house gave the impression of wanting to go somewhere +but had not decided upon the direction. Its many windows +of shining glass were like wide-open eyes peering cheerfully +forth on life, curiously interested and hopeful. The shades, +if there were any, were rolled from sight. It might have +seemed an empty house but for the appearance of care and a +curl of smoke from the chimney.</p> +<p>Northrup walked across the bit of lawn leading, pathless, +to the stone step, and knocked on the door. It was a very +conservative knock but instantly the door swung in––it was +that kind of a door, a welcoming door––and Northrup was +precipitated into a room which, at first glance, appeared to +be full of sunlight, children, and dogs.</p> +<p>As a matter of fact there were two or three little children +and an older girl with a strange, vague face; four dogs and a +young person seated on the edge of a table and engaged, apparently, +before Northrup’s arrival, in telling so thrilling a +story that the small, absorbed audience barely noted his entrance. +They turned mildly interested eyes upon him much +as they might have upon an unnecessary illustration adorning +the tale.</p> +<p>The figure on the table wore rough knickerbockers, high, +rather muddy boots, a loose jacket, and a cap set crookedly on +the head. When Northrup spoke, the young person turned +and he saw that it was a woman. There was no surprise, at +first, in the eyes which met Northrup’s––the door of the little +yellow house was constantly admitting visitors––but suddenly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +the expression changed to one of startled wonder. It was +the expression of one who, never expecting a surprise, suddenly +is taken unawares.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon!” stammered Northrup. “I assure +you I did knock. I merely want to ask the direction and +distance of Heathcote Inn. Crossroads are so confusing +when one is tired and hungry and–––”</p> +<p>Once having begun to speak, Northrup was too embarrassed +to stop. The eyes confronting him were most disconcerting. +They smiled; they seemed to be glad he was +there; the girl apparently was enjoying the situation.</p> +<p>“The inn is three miles down the south road; the lake is +just beyond. Follow that. They serve dinner at the inn +at one.”</p> +<p>The voice was like the eyes, friendly, vital, and lovely.</p> +<p>Then, as if staged, a clock set on a high shelf announced +in crisp, terse tones the hour of twelve.</p> +<p>“Thank you.”</p> +<p>That was all. The incident was closed and Northrup +backed out, drawing the humorous door after him. As the +latch caught he heard a thin, reedy voice, probably belonging +to the vague girl, say:</p> +<p>“Now that he’s gone, please go on. You got to where–––”</p> +<p>Northrup found himself at the crossroads where, five minutes +before, he had stood, and there, in plain sight of any one +not marked by Fate for a turning-point, was a sign-board in +perfectly good condition, stating the fact that if one followed +the direction, indicated by a long, tapering finger, for three +miles, he would come to Heathcote Inn, “Open All the Year.”</p> +<p>“The girl must take me for a fool, or worse!” thought +Northrup. Then he was conscious of a feeling that he had +left something behind him in that room he had just invaded. +But no! His gripsack was securely fastened on his back, his +walking stick was in his hand, his hat upon his head. Still he +felt that lack of something.</p> +<p>“It’s the air!” Northrup sniffed it. “I’m as hungry as a +wolf, too. Hungry as I used to be twenty years ago.” +Northrup was twenty-seven. “Lord! what a day.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div> +<p>It was a day with which to reckon, there was no doubt +about that. An autumn day of silence, crispness, and colour. +Suddenly, something Manly had said came hurtingly into +Northrup’s consciousness: “... <i>or a woman’s face!</i>”</p> +<p>Then, because of the day and a certain regained strength, +Northrup laughed and shook off that impression of having +left something behind him and set off at a brisk rate on the +road to the inn. He soon came to the lake. It lay to the +right of the road. The many-coloured hills rose protectingly +on the left. All along the edge of the water a flaming trail +of sumach marked the curves where the obliging land withdrew +as the lake intruded.</p> +<p>“I might be a thousand miles from home,” Northrup +thought as he swung along.</p> +<p>In reality, he had been only a week on his way and had +taken it easy. He had made no plans; had walked until he +was weary, had slept where he could find quarters, and was +doing what he had all his life wanted to do, and which at +last Manly had given him courage to do: leave the self that +circumstances had evolved and take to the open trail, seeking, +as Manly had figuratively put it, his real self.</p> +<p>During his long illness reality seemed to have fallen from +his perceptions––or was it unreality? He knew that he must +find out or he could never again hope to take his place among +men with any assurance. As far as he could he must cut himself +off from the past, blot out the time-honoured prejudices +that might or might not be legitimate. He must settle that +score!</p> +<p>Northrup was a tall, lean man with a slant of the body that +suggested resistance. His face, too, carried out the impression. +The eyes, deep set and keenly gray, brooded questioningly +when the humour of a situation did not control them. +The mouth was not an architectural mouth; the lines had +been evolved; the mouth was still in the making. It might +become hard or bitter: it could never become cruel. There +was hope in the firm jaw, and the week of outdoor air and +sun had done much to remove the pallor of sickness and +harden the muscles.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span></div> +<p>With every mile that set him apart from his old environment +the eyes grew less gloomy; the lines of the mouth more +relaxed: in fact, Northrup’s appearance at that moment might +have made Manly sympathize with the creator of Frankenstein. +The released Northrup held startling possibilities.</p> +<p>Striding ahead, whistling, swinging his stick, he permitted +himself to recall the face of the woman in the yellow house. +He had taken the faces of women in the past largely for +granted. They represented types, ages, periods. Only once +before had he become aware of what Life, as he had not +known it, could do to women’s faces: While he was writing +his last book––the one that had lifted him from a low literary +level and set him hopefully upon a higher––he had lived, for a +time, on the lower East Side of New York; had confronted +the ugly results of an existence evolved from chance, not design.</p> +<p>But this last face––Life had done something to it that he +could not comprehend. What was it? Then Northrup +suddenly concluded that Life had done nothing to it––had, in +fact, left it alone. At this point, Northrup resorted to detail. +Her eyes were almost golden: the lashes made them seem +darker. The face was young and yet it held that expression +of age that often marks the faces of children: a wondering +look, yet sweetly contemptuous: not quite confident, but +amused.</p> +<p>Now he had it! The face was like a mirror; it reflected +thought and impression. Life had had nothing to do with it. +Very good, so far.</p> +<p>“And her voice! Queer voice to be found here”––Northrup +was keen about voices; they instantly affected him. +“Her voice had tones in it that vibrated. It might be the +product of––well, everything which it probably wasn’t.”</p> +<p>This was laughable.</p> +<p>Northrup would not have been surprised at that moment +to have seen The Face in the flaming bushes by the roadside.</p> +<p>“I wonder if there is any habitation between that yellow +house and the inn?” He pulled himself together and strode +on. Hunger and weariness were overcoming moods and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +fancies. There was not. The gold and scarlet hills rose unbroken +to the left and the road wound divertingly by the +lake.</p> +<p>There was no wind; scarcely a stirring of the leaves, but +birds sang and fish darted in the clear water that reflected the +colour and form of every branch and twig.</p> +<p>In another half hour Northrup saw the inn on ahead. He +knew it at once from a picture-card he had bought earlier in +the day. It set so close to the lake as to give the impression +of getting its feet wet. It was a long, low white building with +more windows, doors, and chimneys than seemed necessary. +Everything looked trim and neat and smoke curled briskly +above the hospitable house. There were, apparently, many +fires in action, and they bespoke comfort and food.</p> +<p>Northrup, upon reaching the inn, saw that a mere strip of +lawn separated it from the road and lake, the piazza was on +a level with the ground and three doors gave choice of entrance +to the wayfarer. Northrup chose the one near the +middle and respectfully tapped on it, drawing back instantly. +He did not mean to have a second joke played upon +him by doors.</p> +<p>There was a stirring inside, a dog gave a sleepy grunt, and +a man’s voice called out:</p> +<p>“The bolt’s off.”</p> +<p>It would seem that doors were incidental barriers in King’s +Forest. No one was expected to regard them seriously.</p> +<p>Northrup entered and then stood still.</p> +<p>He was alive to impressions, and this second room, within +a short space of time, had power, also, to arouse surprise. +There was no sunlight here––the overshadowing piazza prevented +that––but there were two enormous fireplaces, one at +either end of the large room, and upon the hearths of both +generous fires were burning ruddily.</p> +<p>By the one nearer to Northrup sat a man with a bandaged +leg stretched out before him on a stool, and a gold-and-white +collie at his side. The man was elderly, stout, and imposing. +His curly gray hair sprang––no other word conveyed the impression +of the vitality and alertness of the hair––above a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +rosy, genial face; the eyes were small, keen, and full of humour, +the voice had already given a suggestion of welcome.</p> +<p>“You are Mr. Heathcote, I suppose?”</p> +<p>Northrup was subconsciously aware of the good old mahogany +furniture; the well-kept appearance of everything.</p> +<p>“You’ve struck it right. Will you set?”</p> +<p>“Thanks.”</p> +<p>Northrup took the chair opposite the master of the inn.</p> +<p>“My name is Northrup, Brace Northrup from New York.”</p> +<p>“Footing it?” Heathcote was rapidly making one of his +sudden estimates; generally he did not take the trouble to +do this, but some people called forth his approval or disapproval +at once.</p> +<p>“Yes. I’ve taken my time, been a week on the way and, +incidentally, recovering from an illness.”</p> +<p>“Pausing or staying on?”</p> +<p>Northrup meant to say “pausing”; instead he found himself +stating that he’d like to stay on if he could be accommodated.</p> +<p>“We’ll have to consult Aunt Polly as to that,” said Heathcote. +“You see I’m rather off my legs just now. Gander! +Great bird, that gander. He lit out two weeks ago and cut +me to the bone with his wing. He’s got a wing like a hatchet. +I’ll be about in a day or two and taking command, but until +then I have to let my sister have her say as to what burdens +she feels she can carry.”</p> +<p>For a moment Northrup regarded himself, mentally, as a +burden. It was a new sensation and he felt like putting up a +plea; but before he could frame one Heathcote gave a low +whistle and almost at once a door at the rear opened, admitting +a fragrance of delectable food and the smallest woman +Northrup had ever seen. That so fragile a creature could +bear any responsibility outside that due herself, was difficult +to comprehend until one looked into the strange, clear eyes +peering through glasses, set awry. Unquenchable youth and +power lay deep in those piercing eyes; there was force that +could command the slight body to do its bidding.</p> +<p>“Polly, this is Mr. Northrup, from New York”––was there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +lurking amusement in the tone?––“He wants to stop on; +what do you say? It’s up to you and don’t hesitate to speak +your mind.”</p> +<p>The woman regarded the candidate for her favour much as +she might have a letter of introduction; quite impersonally +but decidedly judicially.</p> +<p>“If Mr. Northrup will take pot luck and <i>as is</i>, I think he +can stay, brother.”</p> +<p>Northrup had an unreasoning sense of relief. All his life +his pulses quickened when what he desired seemed about to +elude him. He smiled, now, like a boy.</p> +<p>“Thank you,” he ventured, “you’ll find me most grateful +and adaptable.”</p> +<p>“Well, since that’s settled,” Aunt Polly seemed to pigeonhole +her guest and label him as an individual, “I’ll run out and +lay another plate. You just go along upstairs and pick out +your room. They are all ready. The front ones open to the +lake and the west; the back ones are east and woodsy; outside +of that there isn’t much choice. It’s one o’ clock now, but I +can put things back a spell and give you a chance to wash +before dinner.”</p> +<p>Northrup picked up his bag and hat and started for the +stairs at the far end of the room. The sense of unreality was +still upon him. He felt like breathing low and stepping light. +The sensation smacked of magic. So long as one could believe +it, it would hold, but once you doubted, the old, grim +existence would snatch you!</p> +<p>Upstairs the hall ran from north to south of the rambling +house, on either side the doors opened, leading to small, +orderly rooms, apparently alike except in detail of colour and +placing of furniture. There was a hearth in every room, upon +which lay wood ready to light and beside which stood huge +baskets of logs giving promise of unlimited comfort. Fresh +towels and water were on stands, and the beds fairly reached +out to tired bodies with assurances of rest and sleep. Northrup +went, still treading light and believing, from door to door, +and then he chose a west room because the lapping of the lake +sounded like a lullaby.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></div> +<p>It was the work of a few moments to drop dust-stained garments +and plunge one’s head into the icy water; a few moments +more and a refreshed man emerged from a vigorous +rubbing and gave a laugh of sheer delight.</p> +<p>“I’m in for it!” he muttered, still clinging to the mood of +unreality. “I bet my last nickel that something’s going to +happen and by the lord Harry! I’m going to see it through. +This is one of those holes Manly prophesied about. Looks +as if it had been waiting for me to come.”</p> +<p>He was downstairs in time to help his host to the head of +his table, in the adjoining room. They made rather an imposing +procession, Aunt Polly leading, the golden collie bringing +up the rear.</p> +<p>Heathcote in a fat whisper gave some staccato advice en +route: “Better call sister ‘Aunt Polly’ at once. If you don’t +suggest offishness, none will be suspected. Fall in line, I say! +Dog’s name is Ginger. Animals like to be tagged, more +human-like. Act as if you always had been, or had come +back. If there’s one thing Polly can’t abide, it’s hitting a +snag.”</p> +<p>Devoutly Northrup vowed he’d be no snag.</p> +<p>He took his place on the east side of the table, so to speak, +and the lake was in front of him. The lake was becoming a +vital feature in the new environment.</p> +<p>The water was ruffled now; the reflections trembled and the +lapping was more insistent.</p> +<p>The food was excellent. Aunt Polly had prepared it and +watched, with a true artist’s eye, her guest’s appreciation of +it.</p> +<p>“Food is just food to some folks,” she confided, casting a +slantwise glance at her brother, “just what you might call +fodder. But I allas have held that, viewed rightly, it feeds +body <i>and</i> soul.”</p> +<p>Heathcote chuckled.</p> +<p>“And right you are, Aunt Polly!” Northrup said, watching +the effect of his familiarity. Nothing occurred. He +was being taken for granted.</p> +<p>Bits of history crept into the easy conversation during the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +meal. Apparently meal-time was a function at the inn, not +an episode.</p> +<p>Heathcote and his sister, it appeared, had come to King’s +Forest for his health, fifty years before. He was twenty +then; Aunt Polly eighteen.</p> +<p>“Just like silly pioneers,” Polly broke in, “but we found +health and work and we grew to love the place. We feel +toward it as one does to an adopted child, less understanding, +but more responsible. Every once so often, when we got +into ruts, God Almighty made us realize that He was keeping +His hand on the reins,” the dear old soul chuckled happily. +“Peter got himself made into a magistrate and that was +something to work with. We made a home and friends, but +the Forest isn’t an easy proposition. It ain’t changed much. +It’s lazy and rough, and I often tell Peter that the place is +like two old folks over on the Point, Twombley and Peneluna. +Still and scroogy, but keeping up a mighty lot of thinking. +If anything ever wakes the Forest up it’s going to show what +it’s been cogitating about.”</p> +<p>“Is there a village?” Northrup asked.</p> +<p>“There’s one seven miles from here,” Heathcote replied; +“stores, post office, a Methodist minister––necessary evils, +you know,” this came with a fat chuckle, “but the Forest +ain’t anything but the Forest. Houses sorter dropped down +carelesslike where someone’s fancy fixed ’em. There used +to be a church and school. The school burned down; the +church, half finished, stands like a hint for better living, on a +little island a half mile down the line. There’s the Point +where the folks live as can’t get a footing elsewhere. There’s +always a Point or a Hollow, you know. And there’s the +Mines, back some miles to the south. Iron that used to be +worked. Queer holdings!”</p> +<p>Peter paused. Sustained conversation always made him +pant and gave Polly an opportunity to edge in.</p> +<p>“As I was saying,” she began calmly, “every once so +often God Almighty made us realize that He had His hand +on the reins. When me and Peter got to acting as if we +owned things, someone new happened along and––stuck.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></div> +<p>“First there was old Doctor Rivers. We never rightly +knew where he came from, or why. By and by we got to +feeling we best showed our love and respect by not wondering +about him.</p> +<p>“Then after the doctor did his stint and left his mark, +Maclin came. We’re studying over Maclin yet. He bought +the Mines and kinder settled down on us all like a heavy air +that ain’t got any set of the wind.”</p> +<p>Aunt Polly was picturesque. Peter eyed her admiringly +and gave his comfortable chuckle.</p> +<p>“Sister holds,” he explained, “that the Forest isn’t the +God-forsaken place it looks to be, but is a rich possibility. +I differ, and that is what queers Maclin with us. His buying +those wore-out mines and saying he’s going to <i>make</i> the +Forest is damaging evidence against him. He ain’t no fool: +then what is he? That’s what we’re conjuring with. Maclin +ain’t seeing himself in partnership with the Almighty, +not he! One-man firm for Maclin.”</p> +<p>“Now, brother!” Polly remarked while Heathcote was +catching his breath, “I say give a good doubt to a man +till you have to give a bad one. We’ve no right to judge +Maclin yet, he’s only just begun to have his say-so out loud, +and put out feelers.”</p> +<p>“And now”––Peter put his plate down for the faithful +Ginger to lap clean, and prepared to rise––“and now, you’ve +come, stranger. When you hesitated a time back as to +whether you was pausing or staying on, I just held my breath, +and when you slapped out, ‘staying on,’ I thought to myself, +‘Now, which is he, a dispensation of Providence or just a +plain passer-by?’”</p> +<p>Northrup smiled grimly. This all fitted into his own +vague mood of unreality.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t take me seriously,” he said, going around +the table to help his host. “I’m as ordinary as the majority. +I like the looks of things here. I stop and enjoy +myself, and pass on! That’s the usual way, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Yes”––Polly began gathering the dishes––“it’s what happens +while one stops, that counts. That, and what one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +leaves behind, when he passes on. It’s real queer, though, +to have any one staying on this season of the year.”</p> +<p>During the afternoon Northrup wandered in the woods +which rose abruptly from behind the house. So still was the +brilliant forest that a falling leaf startled him and a scurrying +creature among the bushes set his nerves tingling. Then +it was that the haunting face and voice of the girl in the little +yellow house rose again with an insistence that could not be +disregarded. It dominated his thought; it was part of this +strange sense of shadowy and coming events; it refused to be +set aside.</p> +<p>It did not mock him––he could have dealt with that phase––it +pleaded. It seemed to implore him to accept it along +with his quickened pulses; the colour of the autumn day; the +sweetness of the smell of crushed leaves; the sound of lapping +water; the song of birds.</p> +<p>“I wonder who she is, and why she looks as she does?”</p> +<p>Northrup ceased to scoff at his fancy; he wooed it. He pictured +the girl’s hair loose from the rough cap––curly, rather +wild hair with an uplift in every tendril. What colour was +it? Gold-brown probably, like the eyes. For five minutes +he tried to decide this but knew that he would have to see it +again to make sure.</p> +<p>The face was a small face, but it was strong and unutterably +appealing. A hungry little face; a face whose soul was +ill-nourished, a contradictory face.</p> +<p>Northrup called himself to order just here. He wasn’t +going to be an ass, not if he could help it!</p> +<p>“Strange voice!” he thought on. “It had <i>calls</i> in it. +I <i>am</i> an ass!” he admitted, and in order to get the better +of the situation he turned sharply and went back to the inn.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II' id='CHAPTER_II'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> +<p>Northrup decided to refrain from asking questions. +Long ago he discovered that he could gain more +from a receptive state of mind than an inquiring one.</p> +<p>He began to understand his peculiar mental excitement. +Manly was right. All that was needed to bring about complete +recovery was detachment and opportunity for his +machinery to get into action. He knew the signs. The +wheels were beginning to turn!</p> +<p>Now from Northrup’s point of view this was all right; +but his sudden appearance in a place where bad roads and +no reason for coming usually kept people out, caused a +ripple to reach from the inn to the Point and even the +Mines, twelve miles away.</p> +<p>The people took time before accepting strangers; they had +not yet digested Maclin, and in silent disapproval they regarded +Northrup as in some way connected with Maclin.</p> +<p>The mine owner had been more or less familiar to the +Forest for several years: his coming and going were watched +and speculated upon. Recently he had imported foreign +labour, much to the sneering contempt of the natives whose +philosophy did not include the necessity of perpetual work +and certainly repudiated the idea of outsiders originating a +new system. But Northrup was not a foreigner. He must +be regarded from a different angle.</p> +<p>Aunt Polly made it her business, after the first few days, +to start propaganda of a safe and inspiring character about +her guest. While not committing herself to any definite +statement, she made it known that if Northrup had any connection +with Maclin, he was against him, not for him.</p> +<p>Maclin just then was the hub from which the spokes of +curiosity led.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></div> +<p>“He couldn’t be for Maclin,” Polly had said to Peter. +“You know that as well as I do, Peter Heathcote. And +getting facts signed and witnessed is an awful waste of time. +The Lord gave women a sixth sense and it’s a powerful sight +surer than affidavits.”</p> +<p>Peter grunted. So long as Polly hinted and made no statements +he was content. He believed she was partly right. +He thought Northrup might be on Maclin’s trail, and from +appearances Peter had confidence in his guest’s ability to +run his quarry to earth where, heretofore, others of the Forest +had failed.</p> +<p>He liked Northrup, believed in him, and while he sat and +nursed his leg, he let Polly do her hinting.</p> +<p>It was the evening of Northrup’s third day at the inn +when the three, with Ginger blinking contentedly, sat by the +fire. Polly knitted and smiled happily. She had drifted +that day into calling Northrup “Brace” and that betokened +surrender. Peter puffed and regarded his bandaged leg––he +had taken a few steps during the afternoon, leaning on +Northrup’s arm, and his mood was one of supreme satisfaction.</p> +<p>Breaking the silence, now and again, an irritating sound +of a bell intruded. It was a disconcerting note for it had a +wild quality as if it were being run away with and was +sending forth an appeal. Loud; soft; near; distant.</p> +<p>“Is there a church around here?” Northrup asked at +last.</p> +<p>“There is,” Heathcote replied, taking the pipe from his +lips. “It’s the half-built church I mentioned to you. A +bit down the line you come to a bridge across an arm of +the lake. On a little island is the chapel. It ain’t ever used +now. Remember, Polly,” Heathcote turned to his sister, +“the last time the Bishop came here? Mary-Clare was +about as high as nothing, and just getting over the mumps. +She got panicky when she heard of the Bishop, asked ole +Doc if she could catch it. I guess the Bishop wasn’t catching! +Yes, sir, the church is there, but it’s deserted.”</p> +<p>“What is the bell ringing for?” Northrup roused, more because +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +the name of Mary-Clare had been introduced than because +the bell interested him.</p> +<p>He knew, now, that the girl in the yellow house was Mary-Clare. +Her name slipped into sound frequently, but that +was all.</p> +<p>“Who is ringing the bell?”</p> +<p>Aunt Polly rolled her knitting carefully and set her glasses +aslant on the top of her head. Northrup soon learned that +the angle and position of Aunt Polly’s spectacles were significant.</p> +<p>“No human hands are ringing the bell,” she remarked +quietly. “I hold one notion, Peter another. <i>I</i> say the <i>bell</i> +is ha’nted; calling, calling folks, making them remember!”</p> +<p>“Now, Polly!” Peter knocked the ashes from his pipe on to +Ginger’s back. “Don’t get to criss-crossing and apple-sassing +about that bell.” He turned to Northrup and winked.</p> +<p>“Women is curious,” he admitted. “When things are +flat and lacking flavour they put in a pinch of this or that to +spice them up. Fact is––there’s a change of wind and it ain’t +sot yet. While it’s shifting around it hits, once so often, a +chink in the belfry that’s got to be mended some day. That’s +the sum and tee-total of Polly’s ha’nted tower.”</p> +<p>Then, as if the question escaped without his sanction and +quite to his consternation, Northrup spoke again:</p> +<p>“Who lives in the yellow house by the crossroads?”</p> +<p>This was not honest. Northrup knew <i>who</i>. What he +wanted to say, but had not dared, was: “Tell me about +her.”</p> +<p>“I reckon you mean Mary-Clare.” Aunt Polly shook a +finger at Ginger. “That dog,” she added, “jest naturally +hates the bell ringing. Animals sense more than men!”</p> +<p>This slur escaped Peter, he was intent upon Northrup’s +question.</p> +<p>“Seen that girl in the yellow house?” he asked. “Great +girl, Mary-Clare. Great girl.”</p> +<p>“I stopped there on my way here to ask directions. Rather +unusual looking girl.”</p> +<p>“She is that!” Peter nodded. Mary-Clare was about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +the only bit of romance Peter permitted himself. “Remember +the night Mary-Clare was born, Polly?”</p> +<p>Of course Polly remembered. Northrup felt fully convinced +that Polly knew everything in King’s Forest and +never forgot it. She nodded, drew her spectacles over her +eyes, and continued her knitting while Peter hit the high spots +of Mary-Clare’s past. Somehow the shallows Northrup was +filling while he listened.</p> +<p>Peter was in his element and drawled on:</p> +<p>“The wildest storm you ever saw round these parts––snow +and gale; they don’t usually hang together long, but they +did that night. It was a regular night if there ever was one. +Nobody stirring abroad ’less he had to. Ole Doc was out––someone +over the mine-way had got mussed up with the +machinery. Ole Doc was a minister as well as a doctor. +He’d tried both jobs and used to say it came in handy, but he +leaned most to medicine as being, what you might say, more +practical.”</p> +<p>“You needn’t be sacrilegious, brother,” Polly interjected. +“The story won’t lose anything by holding to +reverence.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well,” Heathcote chuckled, “have it any way you +want to. Ole Doc had us coming and going, that’s what I’m +getting over. If he found he couldn’t help folks to live, he +plumped about and helped ’em to die. Great man, ole Doc! +Came as you did, son, and settled. We never knew anything +about his life before he took root here. Well, that +night I’m telling you about, he was on his way back from the +mines when he spied a fire on the up-side of the lake. He said +it looked mighty curious shining and flaming in the blinding +whiteness. It was Dan Hamlin’s shack. Later we heard +what had happened. Dan had come home drunk––when he +wasn’t drunk you couldn’t find a decenter man than Hamlin, +but liquor made him quarrelsome. His wife was going to +have a baby––Mary-Clare, to be exact––and when he came +in with Jack Seaver, the mail-carrier, there was a row on concerning +something Seaver hadn’t brought that Hamlin had +ordered for his wife. There never was any reasoning with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +Hamlin when he was drunk, so Seaver tried to settle the question +by a fight. Seaver was like that––never had any patience. +Lamp turned over, set the shack on fire!” Peter +breathed hard.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Hamlin ran for her life and the two men ran from +justice. Seaver came back later and told the story. Hamlin +shot himself the following day when he heard what had +happened. Blamed fool! Mary-Clare was left, but she +didn’t seem to amount to much in the beginning. It was +this way: Mrs. Hamlin ran till she fell in a snowdrift. Ole +Doc found her there.” Heathcote paused. The logs fell +apart and the room grew hot. Northrup started as if +roused from a dream.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir!” Heathcote went on. “Ole Doc found her there +and, well, sir, he was doctor and minister for sure that night. +There wasn’t no choice as you might say. Mary-Clare +was born in that snowdrift, and the mother died there! Ole +Doc took ’em both home later.”</p> +<p>“Good God!” ejaculated Northrup. “That’s the grimmest +tale I ever listened to. What came next?”</p> +<p>“The funeral––a double one, for they brought Hamlin’s +body back. Then the saving of Mary-Clare. Polly and I +wanted her––but ole Doc said he’d have to keep an eye on her +for a while––she seemed sorter petering out for some time, +and then when she took a turn and caught on, you couldn’t +pry her away from ole Doc. He gave her his name and +everything else. His wife was dead; his boy away to school, +his housekeeper was a master hand with babies, and somehow +ole Doc got to figuring out that Mary-Clare was a recompense +for what he’d lost in women folks, and so he raised +her and taught her. Good Lord, the education he pumped +into that girl! He wouldn’t let her go to school, but whenever +he happened to think of anything he taught it to her, +and he was powerful educated. Said he wanted to see what +he could do by answering her questions and letting her think +things out for herself. Remember, Polly, how Mary-Clare +used to ride behind ole Doc with a book braced up against +his back?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></div> +<p>Aunt Polly lifted the sock she was knitting and wiped her +eyes.</p> +<p>“Mary-Clare just naturally makes you laugh and cry +at once,” the old voice replied, “remembering her is real +diverting. She came from plain, decent stock, but something +was grafted onto her while she was young and it made +a new kind of girl of Mary-Clare. So loving and loyal.” +Again Aunt Polly wiped her eyes.</p> +<p>“And brave and grateful,” Heathcote took up his story, +“and terrible far-seeing. I don’t hold with Polly that Mary-Clare +became something new by grafting. Seems more like +she was two girls, both keeping pace and watching out and +one standing guard if the other took a time off. I never did +feel sure ole Doc was quite fair with Mary-Clare. Without +meaning to, he got a stranglehold on that girl. She’d have +trotted off to hell for him, or with him. She’d have held her +head high and laughed it off, too. I don’t suppose any one +on God’s earth actually knows what the real Mary-Clare +thinks about things on her own hook, but you bet she has +ideas!”</p> +<p>Northrup was more interested than he had been in many a +day. The story thrilled him. The girl of the yellow house +loomed large upon his vision and he began to understand. +He was not one to scoff at things beyond the pale of exact +science; his craft was one that took much for granted that +could not be reduced to fact. Standing at the door of the +little yellow house he had become a victim of suggestion. +That accounted for it. The mists were passing. He had +not been such an ass, after all.</p> +<p>“So! that is your old doctor’s place down by the crossroads?” +he said with a genuine sense of relief.</p> +<p>“It was. Ole Doc died seven years back.”</p> +<p>“What became of his son––you said he had a boy?” +Northrup was gathering the threads in his hands. Nothing +must escape him; it was all grist.</p> +<p>“Oh! Larry came off and on the scene. There are them +as think ole Doc didn’t treat Larry fair and square. I don’t +know, but anyway, just before ole Doc was struck with that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +stroke that finished him, Larry came home and seemed to be +forgiving enough, if there had been any wrong done. He +had considerable education; ole Doc had given him that +chance, but Larry drifted––allas was, and still is, a drifter. +We all stand pat for the feller on account of his father and +Mary-Clare. It was a blamed risky thing, though, Larry’s +marrying Mary-Clare! I allas will hold to that!”</p> +<p>Once, when Northrup was a young boy, he had been +shocked by electricity. The memory of his experience often +recurred to him in moments of stress. He had been standing +within a few yards of the tree that had been shattered, and +he had fallen unconscious. When he came to, he was vividly +aware of the slightest details of sight and sound surrounding +him. His senses seemed to have been quickened during +the lapse of time. He winced at the light; the flickering of +leaves above him hurt; the song of birds beat against his +brain with sweet clamour, and he vaguely wondered what +had happened to him; where he had been?</p> +<p>In like manner Northrup, now, was aware of a painful +keenness of his senses. Heathcote looked large and his voice +vibrated in the quiet room; Aunt Polly seemed dwindling, +physically, while something about her––the light playing +on her knitting needles and spectacles, probably––radiated. +The crackling logs were like claps of thunder. Northrup +pulled himself to an upright position as one does who resists +hypnotism.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid you’re tiring Brace, brother.”</p> +<p>Aunt Polly’s voice, low, even, and calm, got into the confusion +as a soft breeze had, that day so long ago, and brought +full consciousness in its wake.</p> +<p>“On the other hand,” Northrup gave a relieved laugh, +“I am intensely interested. You see, she looks so young, +that Mrs.––Mrs.–––”</p> +<p>“Rivers?” suggested Heathcote refilling his pipe. “Lord! +I wonder if any one ever called Mary-Clare Mrs. Rivers before, +Polly?” Heathcote paused, then went on:</p> +<p>“Yes; Mary-Clare holds her own and her boy-togs help +the idea. Mary-Clare ain’t properly grown up, anyway. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +Some parts of her are terrible strong and thrifty; parts as has +caught the sunlight, so to speak, and been sheltered from +blasts. The other parts of her ain’t what you might say +shrivelled, but they’ve kept hid and they ain’t ever on exhibition.”</p> +<p>“How ridiculous you <i>are</i>, brother.” Aunt Polly was enjoying +her brother’s flights, but felt called upon to keep him +in order.</p> +<p>“Oh! it’s just a blamed amusing fancy of mine,” Heathcote +chuckled, “to calculate ’bout Mary-Clare. You see, +being a magistrate, I married Mary-Clare to Larry, and +I’ve never been at ease about the thing, though I had to put +it through. There lay ole Doc looking volumes and not +being able to speak a word––nothing to do for him but keep +him company and try to find out what he wanted. He kept +on wanting something like all possessed. Larry and Mary-Clare +hung over him asking, was it this or that? and his big, +burning eyes sorter flickering, never steady. I recall old +Peneluna Todd was there and she said the young uns were +pestering the ole Doc. Then, it was ’long about midnight, +Larry rose up from asking some question, and there was a +new look on his face, a white, frozen kind of look. Mary-Clare +kinder sprang at him. ‘What is it?’ she whispered, +and I ain’t never forgot her face. At first Larry didn’t answer +and he began shaking, like he had the chills.</p> +<p>“‘You must tell me, Larry!’ Mary-Clare went up close +and took Larry by the shoulders as if she was going to tear +his secret from him. Then she went on to say how he had +no right to keep anything from her––her, as would give her +soul for the ole Doc. She meant it, too. Well, Larry sort +of dragged it out of himself. Ole Doc wanted him and +Mary-Clare to marry! That was what was wanted! There +wasn’t much time to consider things, but Mary-Clare went +close to the bed and knelt down and said slowly and real +tender:</p> +<p>“‘You can hear me, can’t you, Daddy?’ The flicker in +ole Doc’s eyes steadied. I reckon any call of Mary-Clare’s +could halt him, short of the other side of Jordan. ‘Then, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +dearie Dad, listen.’ Just like that she said it. I remember +every word. ‘You want me to marry Larry––now? It +would make you––happy?’ The steady look seemed to +kinder freeze. I called it a listening look more than an +understanding one. I’ll allas hold to that, but God knows +there warn’t much time to calculate. Peneluna began +acting up but Mary-Clare set her aside.</p> +<p>“‘All right, Daddy darling!’ she whispered, and with that +she stood up and said to me, ‘You marry us at once! Come +close so that he can see and know!’</p> +<p>“Things go here in the Forest that don’t go elsewhere; I +married them two because I couldn’t help it––something +drew me on. And then just when I got to the end, ole +Doc rose up like he was lifted––he stared at what was passing; +tried to say something, and sank back smiling––dead!”</p> +<p>Northrup wiped his forehead. There were drops of perspiration +on it, and his breath came roughly through his +throat; he seemed part of the dramatic scene.</p> +<p>“Satisfied, <i>I</i> say!” broke in Aunt Polly. “It <i>was</i> a big +risk, but the dying see far, and the doctor had left all he had +to Mary-Clare, which didn’t seem just right to his flesh-and-blood +boy, and I guess he wanted to mend a bad matter +the only way he could.”</p> +<p>“Maybe!” sighed Peter. “Maybe. But he took big +chances even for a dying man. I couldn’t get rid of the +notion that when he cottoned to what had been done, he +sorter threw up his hands! But what happened to Mary-Clare +just took my breath. ’Pon my soul, as I looked at her +it was like I saw her going away after ole Doc and leaving, +in her place, a new, different woman that really didn’t count +so long as she looked after things while the real Mary-Clare +went about her business. It was disturbing and I felt +downright giddy.”</p> +<p>“You’re downright silly, Peter Heathcote”––Polly tossed +her knitting aside and shifted the pillows of the couch––“making +Mary-Clare out the way you do when she’s ordinary +enough and doing her life tasks same as other +folks.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></div> +<p>“How has it worked out?” Northrup heard the words as +if another spoke them.</p> +<p>“I guess, friend, that’s what no one actually knows.” +Peter pulled on his pipe. “Larry is on and off. Maclin, over +to the mines, seems to do the ordering of Larry’s coming and +going. Darned funny business, I say. However, there +you are. When Larry is home I guess the way Mary-Clare +holds her head and laughs gets on his nerves. No man +likes to feel that he can’t clutch hold of his wife, but it +comes to that, say what you will, Mary-Clare keeps free +of things in a mighty odd fashion; I mean the real part of +her; the other part goes regular enough.</p> +<p>“She don’t slacken up on her plain duty. What the ole +Doc left she shares right enough with Larry; she keeps the +house like it should be kept, and she’s a good second to Polly +here, where fodder is concerned. But something happened +when Larry was last home that leaked out somehow. A +girl called Jan-an let it slip. Not a quarrel exactly, but a +thing that wasn’t rightfully settled. Larry was ordered off, +sudden, by Maclin, but take it from me, when Larry comes +back he’ll get his innings. Larry isn’t what you could call +a sticker, but he gets there all the same. He ain’t going to +let any woman go too far with him. That’s where Larry +comes out strong––with women.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know as you ought to talk so free, brother.” +Polly looked dubious.</p> +<p>“In the meantime,” Northrup said quietly, “the little +wife lives alone in the yellow house, waiting?” He hadn’t +heard Polly’s caution.</p> +<p>He was thinking of Mary-Clare’s look when she confronted +him the day of his coming. Was she expecting her husband? +Had she learned to love him? Was she that kind +of woman? The kind that thrives on neglect and indifference?</p> +<p>“Not alone, as you might say,” Heathcote’s voice drawled. +“There’s Noreen, her little girl, you know. Noreen seems +at times to be about a thousand years older than her mother, +but by actual count she’s going on six, ain’t that it, Polly?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></div> +<p>Again Northrup felt as he had that day by the lightning-shattered +tree.</p> +<p>“Her little girl?” he asked slowly, and Aunt Polly raised +her eyes to his face. She looked troubled, vaguely uneasy.</p> +<p>“Yep!” Peter rose stiffly. He wanted to go to bed. +“Noreen’s the saving from the litter. How many was +there, Polly?”</p> +<p>Polly got upon her feet, the trouble-look growing in her +eyes.</p> +<p>“Noreen had a twin as was dead,” she said tenderly. +“Then the last one lived two hours––that’s all, brother.” +She walked to the window. “The storm is setting this +way,” she went on. “Just listen to that lake acting up as if +it was the ocean.”</p> +<p>The riotous swish of the water sounded distant but insistent +in the warm, quiet room, and faintly, at rare intervals, +the bell, rung by unseen forces, struck dully. It had given +up the struggle.</p> +<p>Northrup, presently, had a strong inclination to say to his +host that he had changed his mind and must leave on the +morrow. That course seemed the only safe and wise one.</p> +<p>“But why?” Something new and uncontrolled demanded +an answer. Why, indeed? Why should anything +he had heard cause him to change his plans? This hectic +story of a young woman had set his imagination afire, but +it must not make a fool of him. What really was taking +place became presently overpoweringly convincing.</p> +<p>“I am going to write!”</p> +<p>That was it! The story had struck his dull brain into +action and he had been caught in time, before running away. +He had gained the thing he had been pursuing, and he might +have let it escape! The woman of the yellow house became a +mere bearer of a rare gift––his restored power! He was +safe; everything was safe. The world had righted itself +at last. It wasn’t the woman with the dun-coloured ending +to her story that mattered; it was the story.</p> +<p>“I think I’ll turn in,” he said, stifling a yawn, “Good-night.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></div> +<p>“Don’t hurry about breakfast,” Aunt Polly said gently. +“Breakfast is only a starter, I always hold. It’s like kindlings +to start the big logs. Sleep well, and God bless you!”</p> +<p>She smiled up at her guest as if he were an old friend––come +back!</p> +<p>Up in his room Northrup had difficulty in keeping himself +from work. He dared not begin; if he did he would write all +night. He must be sure. In the meantime, he wrote to his +mother:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>By the above heading you’ll see how far I’ve got on my way, +searching for my lost health. I’m really in great shape. Manly +was right: I had to let go! I’m struggling now between two +courses. Apparently I was in a blue funk; all I needed was to find +it out. Well, I’ve found it out. Shall I come home and prove it +by doing the sensible thing, or shall I go on and make it doubly +sure? If anything important turns up I would telegraph, but in case +I <i>do</i> go on I want to do the job thoroughly and for a time lose myself. +I will wait your word, Mother.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Northrup was not seeking to deceive any one. He might +strike out for new places in a week, or he might, if the mood +held, write in King’s Forest. It all depended upon the mood. +What really mattered was an unfettered state.</p> +<p>The vagrant in him, that had been starved and denied, +rose supreme. Now that he was sure that he was going to +write, had a big theme, there was excuse for his desire to be +free. He would return to his chink in the wall, as Manly +explained, better fitted for it and with a wider vision. He +had a theory that a writer was, more or less, like a person +with a contagious disease: he should be exiled until all danger +to the peace and happiness of others was past. If only the +evenly balanced folks would see that and not act as if they +were being insulted!</p> +<p>While he undressed, Northrup was sketching his plot mentally. +In the morning it would be <i>fixed</i>; it would be more +like copying than creating when a pen was resorted to.</p> +<p>“I’ll take that girl in the yellow house and do no end of +things with her. Dual personality! Lord, and in this stagnant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +pool! All right. Dual personality. Now she must +get a jog about her husband and wake up! Two men and +one woman. Triangle, of course. Nothing new under God’s +heaven. It’s the handling of the ragged old things. I can +make rather a big story out of the ingredients at hand.”</p> +<p>Northrup felt that he was going to sleep; going to rise to +the restored desire for work. No wonder he laughed and +whistled––softly; he had overtaken himself!</p> +<p>Three days later a telegram came from Mrs. Northrup.</p> +<p>“Go on,” it said simply. Mrs. Northrup knew when it +was wisest to let go. But this was not true of Kathryn +Morris, the other woman most closely attached to Northrup’s +life. Kathryn never let go. When she lost interest in any +one, or anything, she flung it, or him, from her with no doubtful +attitude of mind. Kathryn meant to marry Northrup +some day and he fully expected to marry her, though neither +of them could ever recall just when, or how, this understanding +had been arrived at.</p> +<p>It was, to all appearances, a most fitting outcome to close +family interests and friendships. It had just naturally happened +up to the point when both would desire to bring it to +a culmination. The next step, naturally, must be taken by +Kathryn for, when Northrup had ventured to suggest, during +his convalescence, a definite date for their wedding, +Kathryn had, with great show of tenderness, pushed the +matter aside.</p> +<p>The fact was, marriage to Kathryn was not a terminal, but +a way station where one was obliged to change for another +stretch on a pleasant and unhampered journey, and she +had no intention of marrying a possible invalid or, perhaps, +a dying man.</p> +<p>So while Northrup struggled out of his long and serious +illness, Kathryn played her little game under cover. Some +women, rather dull and stupid ones, can do this admirably +if they are young enough and lovely enough to carry it +through, and Kathryn was both. She had also that peculiar +asset of looking divinely intuitive and sweet during her +silences, and it would have taken a keen reader of human +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +nature to decide whether Kathryn Morris’s silences brooded +over a rare storeroom of treasure or over a haunted and +empty chamber.</p> +<p>Without any one being aware of the reasons for his reappearance, +a certain Alexander Arnold materialized while +Northrup had been at his worst. Sandy Arnold had figured +rather vehemently in the year following Kathryn’s “coming +out,” but had faded away when Northrup began to show +signs of becoming famous.</p> +<p>Arnold was a man who made money and lost it in a breath-taking +fashion, but gradually he was steadying himself +and was more often up than down––he was decidedly up at +the time of Northrup’s darkest hour; he was still refusing +to disappear when Northrup emerged from the shadows +and showed signs of persisting. This was disconcerting. +Kathryn faced a situation, and situations were never thrilling +to her: she lacked the sporting spirit; she always played safe +or endeavoured to. Sandy was still in evidence when Northrup +disappeared from the scene.</p> +<p>Mrs. Northrup read Brace’s letter to Kathryn, and something +in the girl rose in alarm. This ignoring of her, for +whatever reason, was most disturbing. Brace should have +taken her, if not his mother, into his confidence. Instead he +had “cut and run”––that was the way Kathryn <i>thought</i> of it. +Aloud she said, with that ravishing look of hers:</p> +<p>“How very Brace-like! Getting material and colour I +suppose he calls it. I wish”––this with a tender, yearning +smile––“I wish, for your sake and mine, dear, that his genius +ran in another direction, stocks or banking––anything with +an office. It is so worrying, this trick of his of hunting plots.”</p> +<p>“I only hope that he can write again,” Mrs. Northrup returned, +patting the letter on her knee. Once she had +wanted to write, but she had had her son instead. In her +day women did not have professions <i>and</i> sons. They chose. +Well, she had chosen, and paid the price. Her husband had +cost her much; her son was her recompense. He was her +interpreter, also.</p> +<p>“Where do you think he’ll go?” Kathryn asked.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></div> +<p>“He’ll tell us when he comes home.” There was something +cryptic about Helen Northrup when she was seeking to +help her son. Kathryn once more bridled. She was direct +herself, very direct, but her advances were made under a +barrage fire.</p> +<p>Her next step was to go to Doctor Manly. She chose his +office hour, waited her turn, and then pleaded wakefulness +and headache as her excuse for the call.</p> +<p>Manly hated wakefulness and headaches. You couldn’t +put them under the X-ray; you couldn’t operate on them; +you had to deal with them by faith. Kathryn was not +lacking in imagination and she gave a fairly accurate description +of long, black hours and consequent pain––“here.” +She touched the base of her brain. She vaguely recalled +that the nerve centres were in that locality.</p> +<p>Manly was impressed and while he was off on that scent, +somehow Northrup got into the conversation.</p> +<p>“I cannot help worrying about Brace, more for his mother’s +sake than his.” Kathryn looked very sweet and womanly, +“He has been so ill and the letter his mother has just received +<i>is</i> disturbing.”</p> +<p>Here Kathryn quoted it and Manly grinned.</p> +<p>“That’s all right,” he said, shaking a bottle of pills. “It +does a human creature no end of good to run away at times. +I often wonder why more of us don’t do it and come back +keener and better.”</p> +<p>“Some of us have duties.” Kathryn looked noble and +self-sacrificing.</p> +<p>“Some of us would perform them a darned sight better if +we took the half holiday now and then that the soul, or whatever +you call it, craves. Now Northrup ought to look to +his job––it <i>is</i> a job in his case. You wouldn’t expect a travelling +salesman to hang around his shop all the time, would +you?”</p> +<p>Kathryn had never had any experience with travelling +salesmen––she wasn’t clear as to their mission in life. So she +said doubtfully:</p> +<p>“I suppose not.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></div> +<p>“Certainly not! An office man is one thing; a professional +man, another; and these wandering Johnnies, like Northrup, +still another breed. He’s been starving his scent––that’s +what I told him. Too much <i>woman</i> in his––and I don’t +mean to hurt you, Kathryn, but you ought to get it into your +system that marrying a man like Northrup is like marrying +a doctor or minister; you’ve got to have a lot of faith +or you’re going to break your man.”</p> +<p>Kathryn’s eyes contracted, then she laughed.</p> +<p>“How charming you are, Doctor Manly, when you’re +making talk. Are those pills bitter?” Kathryn reached out +for them. “Not that I mind, but I hate to be taken by surprise.”</p> +<p>“They’re as bitter as––well, they’re quinine. You need +toning up.”</p> +<p>“You think I need a change?” The tone was pensive.</p> +<p>“Change?” Manly had a sense of humour. “Well, yes, I +do. Go to bed early. Cut out rich food; you’ll be fat at +forty if you don’t, Miss Kathryn. Take up some good +physical work, not exercises. Really, it would be a great +thing for you if you discharged one of your maids.”</p> +<p>“Which one, Doctor Manly?”</p> +<p>“The one who is on her feet most.”</p> +<p>And so, while Northrup settled down in King’s Forest, and +his mother fancied him travelling far, Kathryn set her pretty +lips close and jotted down the address of Helen Northrup’s +letter in a small red book.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III' id='CHAPTER_III'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> +<p>Mary-Clare stood in the doorway of the little +yellow house. Her mud-stained clothes gave evidence +that the recent storm had not kept her indoors––she +was really in a very messy, caked state––but it was +always good to breathe the air after a big storm; it was so +alive and thrilling, and she had put off a change of dress +while she debated a second trip. There was a stretching-out +look on Mary-Clare’s face and her eyes were turned +to a little trail leading into the hilly woods across the highway.</p> +<p>Noreen came to the door and stood close to her mother. +Noreen was only six, but at times she looked ageless. When +the child abandoned herself to pure enjoyment, she talked +baby talk and––played. But usually she was on guard, in +a fierce kind of blind adoration for her mother. Just what +the child feared no one could tell, but there was a constant +appearance of alertness in her attitude even in her happiest +moments.</p> +<p>“I guess you want the woods, Motherly?” The small up-turned +face made the young mother’s heart beat quicker; +the tie was strong between them.</p> +<p>“I do, Noreen. It has been ten whole days since I had +them.”</p> +<p>“Well, Motherly, why don’t you go?”</p> +<p>“And leave my baby alone?”</p> +<p>“I’ll get Jan-an to come!”</p> +<p>“Oh! you blessed!” Mary-Clare bent and kissed the worshipping +face. “I tell you, Sweetheart. Mother will take a +bite of lunch and go up the trail, if you will go to Jan-an. +If you cannot find her, then come up the trail to Motherly––how +will that do?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></div> +<p>“Yes,” Noreen sweetly acquiesced. “I’ll come to the––the–––” +she waited for the word.</p> +<p>“Yawning Gap,” suggested the mother, reverting to a +dearly loved romance.</p> +<p>“Yes. I’ll come to the Yawning Gap and I’ll give the +call.”</p> +<p>“And I’ll call back: <i>Oh! wow!––Oh! wo!</i>” The musical +voice rose like a flute and Noreen danced about.</p> +<p>“And I’ll answer: <i>wo wow!––oh!</i>” The piping tones were +also flute-like, an echo of the mother’s.</p> +<p>“And then, down will fall the drawbridge with a mighty +clatter.” Mary-Clare looked majestic even in her muddy +trousers as she portrayed the action. “And over the Gap +will come the Princess Light-of-my-Heart with her message.”</p> +<p>“Ah! yes, Motherly. It will be such fun. But if Jan-an +can come here to stay, then what?” the voice faltered.</p> +<p>“Why, Light-of-my-Heart, I will return strong and +hungry, and Jan-an and my Princess and I will sit by the +fire to-night and roast chestnuts and apples and there will +be such a story as never was before.”</p> +<p>“Both ways are beautiful ways, Motherly. I don’t know +which is bestest.”</p> +<p>It was always so with Mary-Clare and Noreen, all ways +were alluring; but the child had deep intuitions, and so she +set her face at once away from the little yellow house and the +mother in the doorway, and started on her quest of Jan-an.</p> +<p>When the child had passed from sight Mary-Clare packed a +bit of luncheon in a basket and ran lightly across the road. +She looked back, making sure that no one was watching her +movements, then she plunged into the woods, her head lowered, +and her heart throbbing high.</p> +<p>The trail was not an easy one––Mary-Clare had seen to +that!––and as no one but Noreen and herself ever trod it, +it was hardly discernible to the uninitiated. Up and up +the path led until it ended at a rough, crude cabin almost +hidden by a tangle of vines.</p> +<p>Looking back over the years of her married life, Mary-Clare +often wondered how she could have endured them but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +for the vision and strength she received in her “Place,” as she +whimsically called it––getting her idea from a Bible verse.</p> +<p>Among the many things that old Doctor Rivers had given +Mary-Clare was a knowledge and love of the Bible. He had +offered the book to her as literature and early in life she had +responded to the appeal. The verse that had inspired her to +restore a deserted cabin to a thing of beauty and eventually +a kind of sanctuary, was this:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>And the woman fled into the wilderness where she hath a place +prepared of God that they should feed her there.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The words, roughly carved, were traced on the east wall of +the cabin and under a picture of Father Damien.</p> +<p>The furniture of the shack was made by Mary-Clare’s own +hands. A long table, some uneven shelves for books she +most loved, a chair or two and a low couch over which was +thrown a gay-patched quilt. Once the work of love was +completed, Nature reached forth with offerings of lovely +vines and mountain laurel and screened the place from any +chance passer-by.</p> +<p>A hundred feet below the cabin was a little stream. That +marked the limit of even Noreen’s territory unless, after due +ceremony, she was permitted to advance as far as the cabin +door. The pretty game was evolved to please the child +and secure for the mother a privacy she might not have got +in any other way.</p> +<p>As Mary-Clare reached the “Place” this autumn day, she +was a bit breathless and stepped lightly as one does who approaches +a shrine; she went inside and, kneeling by the +cracked but dustless hearth, lighted a fire; then she took a +seat by the rough table, clasped her hands upon it and lifted +her eyes to the words upon the opposite wall.</p> +<p>Sitting so, a startling change came over the young face. +It was like a letting down of strong defences. The smile fled, +the head bowed, and a pitiful look of appeal settled from brow +to trembling lips.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare had come to a sharp turn on her road and, as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +yet, she could not see her way! She had drifted––she could, +with Larry away––but now he was coming home!</p> +<p>She had tried, God knew, for three long months to be sure. +She <i>must</i> be sure, she was like that; sure that she <i>felt</i> her +way to be the <i>right</i> way; so sure that, should she find it later +the wrong way, she could retrace her steps without remorse. +It was the believing, at the start, that she was doing right, +that mattered.</p> +<p>Sitting in the quiet room with the autumn sunlight coming +through the clustering vines at window and door and falling +upon her in dancing patterns, the woman waited for guidance. +The room became a place of memory and vision.</p> +<p>Help would come, she still had the faith, but it must come +at once for her husband might at any hour return from one +of his mysterious business trips and there must be a decision +reached before she met him. She could not hope to make +him understand her nor sympathize with her; he and she, +beyond the most ordinary themes, spoke different languages. +She had learned that.</p> +<p>She must take her stand alone; hold it alone; but the stand +must seem to her right and then she could go on. Like the +flickering sunbeams playing over her, the past came touching +her memory with light and shade, unconsciously preparing +her for her decision. She was not thinking, but thought was +being formed.</p> +<p>The waves of memory swept Mary-Clare from her moorings. +She was no longer the harassed woman facing her +problem in the clear light of conviction; but the child, whose +mistaken ideals of love and loyalty had betrayed her so +cruelly. Why had she who early had been taught by Doctor +Rivers to “use her woman brain,” gone so utterly astray?</p> +<p>Why had she married Larry when she never loved him; +felt him to be a stranger, simply because he had interpreted +the words of a dying man for her?</p> +<p>In the light of realization the errors of life become our most +deadly accusers. We dare not make others pay for the folly +that we should never have perpetrated. Mary-Clare, the +woman, had paid and paid, until now she faced bankruptcy; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +she was prepared still to do her part as far as in her lay––but +she must retrace her steps, be sure and then go on as best +she could.</p> +<p>Always, in those old childish days, there had been the +grim spectre of Larry’s mother. Her name was never mentioned +but to the imaginative, sensitive Mary-Clare, she became, +for that very reason, a clearly defined and potent influence. +She was responsible for the doctor’s lonely life in +King’s Forest; for Larry’s long absences from home; for the +lines that grew between the old doctor’s eyes when he laid +down the few simple laws of conduct that formed the iron +code of life:</p> +<p><i>Never lie. Never break a promise. Never take advantage +for selfish gain. Think things out with your woman brain, +and never count the cost if you know it is right.</i></p> +<p>Larry’s mother, so the child believed, had not kept the +code––therefore, Mary-Clare must the more strictly adhere to +it and become what the other had not! And how desperately +she had struggled to reach her ideal. In the conflict, +only her sunny joyous nature had saved her from wreck. +Naturally direct and loyal, much of what might have occurred +was prevented. Passionate love and devout belief +in the old doctor eliminated other dangers.</p> +<p>It was well and right to use your “woman brain,” but when +in the end you always came to the conclusion that the doctor’s +way was your way, life was simplified. If one could not +fully understand, then all the more reason for relying upon a +good guide, a tested friend; but above all other considerations, +once the foundation was secure was this: she must make +up to her adored doctor and Larry for what that unmentioned, +mysterious woman had denied them.</p> +<p>It had all seemed so simple, when one did not know!</p> +<p>That was it. Breathing hard, Mary-Clare came back to +the present. She could not know until she had lived, and +being married did not stop life. And now, Mary-Clare could +consider, as if apart from herself, from the girl who had married +Larry because he had caught the dying request of the old +doctor. She had wanted to do right at that last tragic moment. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +She had done it with the false understanding of reality +and found out the truth––by living. It had seemed to her, in +her ignorance, the only way to relieve the suffering of the +dying: to help Larry who was deprived of everything.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare must not desert, as the unmentioned woman +had.</p> +<p>But life, living––how they had torn the blindness from her! +How she had paid and paid until that awful awakening after +the birth and death of her last child, three months before! +She had tried then to make Larry understand before he went +away, but she could not! Larry always ascribed her moods, +as he called them, to her “just going to have a child,” or +“getting over having one.”</p> +<p>He had gone away tolerant, but with a warning: “A man +isn’t going to stand too much!”</p> +<p>These words had been a challenge. There could be no +more compromising. Pay-day had come for her and Larry.</p> +<p>But the letters!</p> +<p>At this thought Mary-Clare sat up rigidly. A squirrel, +that had paused at her quiet feet, darted affrightedly across +the cabin floor.</p> +<p>The letters! The letters in the box hid on the shelf of the +closet in the upper chamber. Always those letters had +driven her back from the light which experience shed upon +her to the darkness of ignorance.</p> +<p>Larry had given the letters to her at the time when she +questioned, after the doctor’s death, Larry’s right to hold her +to her marriage vows. How frightened and full of despair +she had been. She had felt that perhaps Larry had not +understood. Why had the doctor never told her of his +desire for her and Larry to marry? Then it was that Larry +had gone away to bring proof. He had never meant to show +it to her, but he must clear himself at the critical moment.</p> +<p>And so he brought the letters. Mary-Clare knew every +word of them. They were burned into her soul: they had +been the guides on the hard road she had travelled. The +doctor had always wanted her and Larry to marry; believed +that they would. But she must be left free; no word must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +be spoken until she was old enough to choose. To prove his +faith and love in his adopted child, Rivers had, so the letters +to Larry revealed, left his all to her. In case she could not +marry Larry, he confided in her justice to share with him.</p> +<p>The last dark hour had broken the old doctor’s self-control––he +had voiced what heretofore he had kept secret. The +letters stood as silent proof of this. And then the old, rigid +code asserted its influence. A promise must be kept!</p> +<p>And so the payment began, but it was not, had never +been, the real Mary-Clare who had paid. Something had retreated +during the bleak years, that which remained fulfilled the +daily tasks; kept its own council, laughed at length, and knew +a great joy in the baby Noreen, seemed a proof that God was +still with her while she held to what appeared to be right.</p> +<p>And then the last child came, looked at her with its deep +accusing eyes and died!</p> +<p>In that hour, or so it seemed, the real Mary-Clare returned +and demanded recognition. There was to be no more compromise; +no more calling things by false names and striving to +believe them real. There was but one safe road: truth.</p> +<p>And Larry was coming home. He had not understood +when he went away: he would not understand now. Still, +truth must be faced.</p> +<p>The letters!</p> +<p>Mary-Clare now leaned on the table, her eyes fixed upon the +wall opposite. The roughly carved words caught and held +her attention. Gradually it came to her, vaguely, flickeringly, +like a will-o’-the-wisp darting through a murky night, +that if life meant anything it meant a faith in what was true. +She must not demand more than that; a sense of truth.</p> +<p>As a little child may look across the familiar environment +of its nursery and contemplate its first unaided step, so +Mary-Clare considered her small world: her unthinking +world of King’s Forest, and prepared to take her lonely +course. The place in which she had been born and bred: the +love and friends that had held her close suddenly became +strange to her. What was to befall her, once she let go the +conventions that upheld her?</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></div> +<p>Well, that was not for her to ask. There was the letting +go and then the first unaided step. Nothing must hold her +back––not even those letters that had sustained her! In +recognizing her big problem in her small and crude world, +Mary-Clare had no thought of casting aside her obligation +or duties––her distress was founded upon a fear that those +blessed, sacred duties would have none of her because she +had not that with which to buy favour.</p> +<p>There was Noreen––she was Larry’s, too. Through the +years Mary-Clare had remembered that almost fiercely as +she combated the child’s aversion to her father. Suddenly, +as small things do occur at strained moments, hurting like a +cruel blow, a scene at the time when Noreen was but four +years old, rose vividly before her. Larry, sensing the baby’s +hatred, had tried to force an outward show of obedience and +affection. He had commanded Noreen to come and kiss +him.</p> +<p>Like a bird under the spell of a serpent, Noreen had stood +affrighted and silent. The command was repeated, laughingly, +jeeringly, but under it Mary-Clare had recognized +that ring of brutality that occasionally marked Larry’s easy-going +tones. Then Noreen had advanced step by step, her +eyes wide and alert.</p> +<p>“Kiss me!”</p> +<p>“No!”</p> +<p>The words had been explosive. Then Larry had caught +the child roughly, and Noreen had struck him!</p> +<p>Maddened and keen to the fact that he had been brought +to bay, Larry had struck back, and for days the mark of his +hand had lain across the delicate cheek. After that, when +their wills clashed, Noreen, her eyes full of fear and hate, +would raise her hand to her cheek––weighing the cost of +rebellion. That gesture had become a driving force in +Mary-Clare’s life. She must overcome that which lay like a +hideous menace between Larry and Noreen! She was accountable +for it; out of her loveless existence Noreen had +birth––she was a living evidence of the wrong done.</p> +<p>Looking back now, Mary-Clare realized that on the day +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +when Larry struck Noreen he had struck the scales from her +eyes. From that hour she had bunglingly, gropingly, felt +her way along. The only fact that upheld her now was that +she knew she must take her first lonely step, even if all her +little unknowing, unthinking world dropped from her.</p> +<p>Again the squirrel darted across the floor and Mary-Clare +looked after it lingeringly. Even the little wild thing was +company for her in her hard hour. Then she looked up at the +face of Father Damien. It was but a face––the meaning of +what had gone into its making Mary-Clare could not understand––but +it brought comfort and encouragement.</p> +<p>The reaction had set in. Worn-out nerves became non-resistant; +they ceased to ache. Then it was that Noreen’s +shrill voice broke the calm:</p> +<p>“Motherly, Motherly, he’s come: he’s come home!”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare rose stiffly; her hands were spread wide as +if to balance her on that dangerous, adventurous trail that +lay between her past and the hidden future. There lay +the trail: within her soul was a sense of truth and she had +strength and courage for the first step. That was all.</p> +<p>“I’m coming, Noreen. I’m coming!” And Mary-Clare +staggered on.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV' id='CHAPTER_IV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> +<p>Mary-Clare met Noreen at the brook, smiling and +calm. The child was trembling and pale, but the +touch of her mother’s hand reassured her. It was +like waking from a painful dream and finding everything +safe and the dream gone.</p> +<p>“I was just coming down the path with Jan-an, Motherly, +when I saw him going in the house.”</p> +<p>“Daddy, dear?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Motherly, Daddy. He left a bag in the house; +looked all around and then came out. I was ’fraid he was +coming to you, so I ran and ran, but Jan-an said she’d stay +and fix him if he did.”</p> +<p>“Noreen!” The tone was stern and commanding.</p> +<p>“Well, Motherly, Jan-an said that, but maybe she was +just funny.”</p> +<p>“Of course. Just funny. We must always remember, +Noreen, that poor Jan-an is just funny.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Motherly.”</p> +<p>Things were reduced to normal by the time the little yellow +house was reached. Jan-an was there, crouched by the fireplace, +upon which she had kindled a welcoming fire after +making sure Larry had not gone up the secret trail.</p> +<p>Rivers was not in evidence, though a weather-stained bag, +flung hastily on the floor, was proof of his hurried call. He +did not appear all day. As a matter of fact, he was at the +mines. Failing to find his wife, he had availed himself of the +opportunity of announcing his presence to his good friend +Maclin, and getting from him much local gossip, and what +approval Maclin vouchsafed.</p> +<p>All day, with Jan-an’s assistance, Mary-Clare prepared +for the creature comforts of her husband; while Noreen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +made nervous trips to door and window. At night Jan-an +departed––she seemed glad to go away, but not sure that +she ought to go; Mary-Clare laughed her into good humour.</p> +<p>“I jes don’t like the feelings I have,” the girl reiterated; +“I’m creepy.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare packed a bag of food for her and patted her +shoulder.</p> +<p>“Come to-morrow,” she said, and then, after a moment’s +hesitation, she kissed the yearning, vacant face. “You’re +going to the Point, Jan-an?” she asked, and the girl nodded.</p> +<p>Noreen, too, had to be petted into a calmer state––her +old aversion to her father sprang into renewed life with +each return after an absence. In a few days the child +would grow accustomed to his presence and accept him with +indifference, at least, but there was always this struggle.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare herself wondered where Larry was; why he +delayed, once having come back to the Forest; but she kept +to her tasks of preparation and reassuring Noreen, and so +the day passed.</p> +<p>At eight o’clock, having eaten supper and undressed the +child, she sat in the deep wooden rocker with Noreen in her +arms. There was always one story that had power to claim +attention when all others failed, and Mary-Clare resorted to +it now. Swaying back and forth she told the story of the +haunt-wind.</p> +<p>“It was a wonderful wind, Noreen, quite magical. It +came from between the south and the east––a wild little +wind that ran away and did things on its own account; but +it was a good little wind for all that foolish people said about +it. It took hold of the bell rope in the belfry, and swung out +and out; it swung far, and then it dropped and fluttered about +quite dizzily.”</p> +<p>“Touching Jan-an?” Noreen suggested sleepily.</p> +<p>“Jan-an, of course. Making her beautiful and laughing. +Waking her from her sad dream, poor Jan-an, and giving +her strength to do really splendid things.”</p> +<p>“I love the wild wind!” Noreen pressed closer. “I’m +not afraid of it. And it found Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></div> +<p>“To be sure. It made Aunt Polly seem as grand and big +as she really is––only blind folks cannot see––and it made all +the blind folks <i>see her</i> for a minute. And it made Uncle +Peter––no; it left Uncle Peter as he is!”</p> +<p>“I like that”––drowsily––“and it made us see the man that +went to the inn?” Noreen lifted her head, suddenly alert.</p> +<p>“What made you think of him, Noreen?” Mary-Clare +stopped swaying to and fro.</p> +<p>“I don’t know, Motherly. Only it was funny how he +just came and then the haunt-wind came and Jan-an says +she thinks he <i>isn’t</i>. Really we only think we see him.”</p> +<p>“Well, perhaps that’s true, childie. He’s something good, +I hope. Now shut your eyes like a dearie, and Mother will +rock and sing.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare fixed her eyes on her child’s face, but she was +seeing another. The face of a man whose glance had held +hers for a strange moment. She had been conscious, since, +of this man’s presence; his name was familiar––she could not +forget him, though there was no reason for her to remember +him except that he was new; a something different in her dull +days.</p> +<p>But Noreen, eyes obediently closed, was pleading in the +strange, foolish jargon of her rare moments of relaxation:</p> +<p>“You lit and lock, Motherly, and I’ll luck my lum, just +for to-night, and lall aleep.”</p> +<p>“All right, beloved; you may, just for to-night, suck the +little thumb, and fall asleep while Mother rocks.”</p> +<p>After a few moments more Noreen was asleep and Mary-Clare +carried her to an inner room and put her on her bed. +She paused to look at the small sleeping face; she noted the +baby outlines that always were so strongly marked when +Noreen was unconscious; it hurt the mother to think how +they hardened when the child awakened. The realization +of this struck Mary-Clare anew and reinforced her to her +purpose, for she knew her hour was at hand.</p> +<p>A week before she had dismantled the room in which she +now stood. It had once been Doctor Rivers’s chamber; +later it had been hers––and Larry’s. The old furniture was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +now in the large upper room, only bare necessities were left +here.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare looked about and her face lost its smile; her +head lowered––it was not easy, the task she had set for herself, +and after Larry’s visit to the mines it would be harder. +She had hoped to see Larry first, for Maclin had a subtle +power over him. Without ever referring to her, and she +was sure he did not in an intimate sense, he always put Larry +in an antagonistic frame of mind toward her. Well, it was +too late now to avert Maclin’s influence––she must do the +best she could. She went back to the fire and sat down and +waited.</p> +<p>It was after ten o’clock when Larry came noisily in. Rivers +took his colour from his associates and their attitude +toward him. He was a bit hilarious now, for Maclin had been +glad to see him; had approved of the results of his mission––though +as for that Larry had had little to do, for he had only +delivered, to certain men, some private papers and had received +others in return; had been conscious that non-essentials +had been talked over with him, but as that was part +of the business of big inventions, he did not resent it. Maclin +had paid him better than he had expected to be paid, +shared a good dinner with him and a bottle of wine, and now +Rivers felt important and aggressive. Wine’s first effect +upon him was to make him genial.</p> +<p>He had meant to resent Mary-Clare’s absence on his arrival, +but he had forgotten all about that. He meant now to +be very generous with her and let bygones be bygones––he +had long since forgotten the words spoken just before he left +for his trip. Words due, of course, to Mary-Clare just having +had a baby. Almost Larry had forgotten that the baby +had been born and had died.</p> +<p>He strode across the room. He was tall, lithe, and good-looking, +but his face betokened weakness. All the features +that had promised strength and power seemed, somehow, +to have missed fulfilment.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare tried to respond; tried to do her full part––it +would all help so much, if she only could. But this mood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +of Larry’s was fraught with danger––did she not know? Success +did not make him understanding and considerate; it +made him boyishly dominant and demanding.</p> +<p>“Well, old girl”––Rivers had slammed the door after him––“sitting +up for me, eh? Sorry; but when I didn’t find you +here, I had to get over and see Maclin. Devilish important, +big pull I’ve made this time. We’ll have a spree––go to the +city, if you like––have a real bat.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare did not have time to move or speak; Larry was +crushing her against him and kissing her face––not as a man +kisses a woman he loves, but as he might kiss any woman. +The silence and rigidity of Mary-Clare presently made themselves +felt. Larry pushed her away almost angrily.</p> +<p>“Mad, eh?” he asked with a suggestion of triumph in his +voice. “Acting up because I ran off to Maclin? Well, I had +to see him. I tried to get home sooner, but you know how +Maclin is when he gets talking.”</p> +<p>How long Larry would have kept on it would have been +hard to tell, but he suddenly looked full at Mary-Clare and––stopped!</p> +<p>The expression on the face confronting his was puzzling: +it looked amused, not angry. Now there is one thing a man +of Larry’s type cannot bear with equanimity and that is to +have his high moments dashed. He saw that he was not +impressing Mary-Clare; he saw that he was mistaking her +attitude of mind concerning his treatment of her––in short, +she did not care!</p> +<p>“What are you laughing at?” he asked.</p> +<p>“I’m not laughing, Larry.”</p> +<p>“What are you smiling at?”</p> +<p>“My smile is my own, Larry; when I laugh it’s different.”</p> +<p>“Trying to be smart, eh? I should think when your +husband’s been away months and has just got back, you’d +meet him with something besides a grin.”</p> +<p>There was some justice in this and Mary-Clare said slowly: +“I’m sorry, Larry. I really was only thinking.”</p> +<p>Now that she was face to face with her big moment, Mary-Clare +realized anew how difficult her task was. Often, in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +the past, thinking of Larry when he was not with her, it had +seemed possible to reason with him; to bring truth to him and +implore his help. Always she had striven to cling to her image +of Larry, but never to the real man. The man she had constructed +with Larry off the scene was quite another creature +from Larry in the flesh. This knowledge was humiliating +now in the blazing light of reality grimly faced and it taxed +all of Mary-Clare’s courage. She was smiling sadly, smiling +at her own inability in the past to deal with facts.</p> +<p>Larry was brought to bay. He was disappointed, angry, +and outraged. He was not a man to reflect upon causes; +results, and very present ones, were all that concerned him. +But he did, now, hark back to the scene soon after the birth +and death of the last child. Such states of mind didn’t +last for ever, and there was no baby coming at the moment. +He could not make things out.</p> +<p>“See here,” he said rather gropingly, “you are not holding +a grouch, are you?”</p> +<p>“No, Larry.”</p> +<p>“What then?”</p> +<p>For a moment Mary-Clare shrank. She weakly wanted to +put off the big moment; dared not face it.</p> +<p>“It’s late, Larry. You are tired.” She got that far when +she affrightedly remembered the bedroom upstairs and paused. +She had arranged it for Larry––there must be an explanation +of that.</p> +<p>“Late be hanged!” Larry stretched his legs out and +plunged his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get at the +bottom of this to-night. You understand?”</p> +<p>“All right, Larry.” Mary-Clare sank back in her chair––she +had fallen on her adventurous way; she had no words +with which to convey her burning thoughts. Already she had +got so far from the man who had filled such a false position in +her life that he seemed a stranger. To tell him that she did +not love him, had never loved him, was all but impossible. +Of course he could not be expected to comprehend. The +situation became terrifying.</p> +<p>“You’ve never been the same since the last baby came.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +Larry was speaking in an injured, harsh tone. “I’ve put up +with a good deal, Mary-Clare; not many men would be so +patient. The trouble with you, my girl, is this, you get +your ideas from books. That mightn’t matter if you had +horse sense and knew when to slam the covers on the rot. +But you try to live ’em and then the devil is to pay. Dad +spoiled you. He let you run away with yourself. But +the time’s come–––”</p> +<p>The long speech in the face of Mary-Clare’s wondering, +amazed eyes, brought Larry to a panting pause.</p> +<p>“What you got a husband for, anyway, that’s what I am +asking you?”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare’s hard-won philosophy of life stood her in poor +stead now. She felt an insane desire to give way and laugh. +It was a maddening thing to contemplate, but she seemed +to see things so cruelly real and Larry seemed shouting to her +from a distance that she could never retrace. For a moment +he seemed to be physically out of sight––she only heard his +words.</p> +<p>“By God! Mary-Clare, what’s up? Have you counted +the cost of carrying on as you are doing? What am I up +against?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Larry, I’ve counted the cost to me and Noreen and +you. I’m afraid this is what we are all up against.”</p> +<p>“Well, what’s the sum total?” Larry leaned back more +comfortably; he felt that Mary-Clare, once she began to +talk, would say a good deal. She would talk like one of her +books. He need not pay much heed and when she got out of +breath he’d round her up. His interview with Maclin had +not been all business; the gossip, interjected, was taking ugly +and definite form now. Maclin had mentioned the man at +the inn. Quite incidentally, of course, but repeatedly.</p> +<p>“You see, Larry, I’ve got to tell you how it is, in my own +way,” Mary-Clare was speaking. “I know my way makes +you angry, but please be patient, for if I tried any other way +it would hurt more.”</p> +<p>“Fire away!” Larry nobly suppressed a yawn. Had +Mary-Clare said simply, “I don’t love you any more,” Larry +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +would have got up from the blow and been able to handle the +matter, but she proceeded after a fashion that utterly confused +him and, instead of clearing the situation, managed to +create a most unlooked-for result.</p> +<p>“It’s like this, Larry: I suppose life is a muddle for everyone +and we all do have to learn as we go on––nothing can +keep us from that, not even marriage, can it?”</p> +<p>No reply came to this.</p> +<p>“It’s like light coming in spots, and then those spots can +never be really dark again although all the rest may be. You +think of those spots as bright and sure when all else is––is +lost. That is the way it has been with me.”</p> +<p>“Gee!” Larry shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“Larry, you <i>must</i> try to understand!” Mary-Clare was +growing desperate.</p> +<p>“Then, try to talk American.”</p> +<p>“I am, Larry. <i>My</i> American. That’s the trouble––there +is more than <i>one</i> kind, you know. Larry, it was all wrong, +my marrying you even for dear Dad’s sake. If he had been +well and we could have talked it over, he would have understood. +I should have understood for him that last night. +Even the letters should not have mattered, they must not +matter now!”</p> +<p>This, at least, was comprehensible.</p> +<p>“Well, you <i>did</i> marry me, didn’t you?” Larry flung out. +“You’re my wife, aren’t you?” Correcting mistakes was +not in Larry’s plan of life.</p> +<p>“I––why, yes, I am, Larry, but a wife means more than one +thing, doesn’t it?” This came hopelessly.</p> +<p>“Not to me. What’s your idea?” Larry was relieved at +having the conversation run along lines that he could handle +with some degree of common sense.</p> +<p>“Well, Larry, marriage means a good many things to me. +It means being kind and making a good home––a real home, +not just a place to come to. It means standing by each other, +even if you can’t have everything!”</p> +<p>Just for one moment Larry was inclined to end this shilly-shallying +by brute determination. He was that type of man. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +What did not come within the zone of his own experience, +did not exist for him except as obstacles to brush aside.</p> +<p>It was a damned bad time, he thought, for Mary-Clare to +act up her book stuff. A man, home after a three months’ +absence, tired and worn out, could not be expected, at close +upon midnight, to enjoy this outrageous nonsense that had +been sprung upon him.</p> +<p>He must put an end to it at once. He discarded the cave +method. Of course that impulse was purely primitive. It +might simplify the whole situation but he discarded it. +Mary-Clare’s outbursts were like Noreen’s “dressing up”––and +bore about the same relation in Larry’s mind.</p> +<p>“See here,” he said suddenly, fixing his eyes on Mary-Clare––when +Larry asserted himself he always glared––“just +what in thunder do you mean?”</p> +<p>The simplicity of the question demanded a crude reply.</p> +<p>“I’m not going to have any more children.” Out of the +maze of complicated ideals and gropings this question and +answer emerged, devastating everything in their path. +They meant one, and only one, thing to Larry Rivers.</p> +<p>There were some things that could illume his dark stretches +and level Mary-Clare’s vague reachings to a common level. +Both Larry and Mary-Clare were conscious now of being +face to face with a grave human experience. They stood revealed, +man and woman. The big significant things in life +are startlingly simple.</p> +<p>The man attacked the grim spectre with conventional and +brutal weapons; the woman backed away with a dogged look +growing in her eyes.</p> +<p>“Oh! you aren’t, eh?” Larry spoke slowly. “You’ve +decided, have you?”</p> +<p>“I know what children mean to you, Larry; I know what +you mean by––love––yes: I’ve decided!”</p> +<p>“You wedged your way into my father’s good graces and +crowded me out; you had enough decency, when you knew +his wishes, to carry them out as long as you cared to, and +now you’re going to end the job in your own way, eh?</p> +<p>“Name the one particular way in which you’re not going +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +to break your vows,” Larry asked, and sneered. “What’s +your nice little plan?” He got up and walked about. “I +suppose you have cut and dried some little compromise.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Larry, I wish you could be a little kind; a little +understanding.”</p> +<p>“Wish I could think as you think; that’s what you mean. +Well, by God, I’m a man and your husband and I’m going +to stand on my rights. You can’t make a silly ass of me as +you did of my father. Fathers and husbands are a shade +different. Come, now, out with your plan.”</p> +<p>“I will not have any more children! I’ll do everything +I can, Larry; make the home a real home. Noreen and I will +love you. We’ll try to find some things we all want to do +together; you and I can sort of plan for Noreen and there +are all kinds of things to do around the Forest, Larry. Really, +you and I ought to––ought to carry out your father’s work. +We could! There are other things in marriage, Larry, but +just––the one.” Breathlessly Mary-Clare came to a pause, +but Larry’s amused look drove her on. “I’m not the kind of +a woman, Larry, that can live a lie!”</p> +<p>A tone of horror shook Mary-Clare’s voice; she choked and +Larry came closer, his lips were smiling.</p> +<p>“What in thunder!” he muttered. Then: “You plan to +have us live on here in this house; you and I, a man and +woman––and–––!” Larry stopped short, then laughed. +“A hell of a home that would be, all right!”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare gazed dully at him.</p> +<p>“Well, then,” she whispered, and her lips grew deadly white, +“I do not know what to do.”</p> +<p>“Do? You’ll forget it!” thundered Larry. “And pretty +damned quick, too!”</p> +<p>But Mary-Clare did not answer. There was nothing more +to say. She was thinking of the birth-night and death-night +of her last child.</p> +<p>On and on the burning thoughts rushed in Mary-Clare’s +brain while she sat near Larry without seeing him. As surely +as if death had taken him, he, the husband, the father of +Noreen, had gone from her life. It did not seem now as if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +anything she had said, or done, had had anything to do with +it. It was like an accident that had overtaken them, killing +Larry and leaving her to readjust her life alone.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you answer?” Larry laid a hand upon Mary-Clare’s +shoulder. “Getting sleepy? Come on, then, we’ll +have this out to-morrow.” He looked toward the door +behind which stood Noreen’s cot and that other one beside it.</p> +<p>“I’ve fixed the room upstairs for you, Larry.”</p> +<p>The simple statement had power to accomplish all that +was left to be done. There was a finality about it, and the +look on Mary-Clare’s face, that convinced Larry he had +come to the point of conquest or defeat.</p> +<p>“The devil you have!” was what he said to gain time.</p> +<p>For a moment he again contemplated force––the primitive +male always hesitates to compromise where his codes are +threatened. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes; a +ferocious curl of his lips––it would be such a simple matter +and it would end for ever the nonsense that he could not +tolerate.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare leaned back in her chair. She was so absolutely +unafraid that she quelled Larry’s brute instinct and +aroused in him a dread of the unknown. What would Mary-Clare +do in the last struggle? Larry was not prepared to +take what he recognized as a desperate chance. The familiar +and obvious were deep-rooted in his nature––if, in the end, +he lost with this calm, cool woman whom he could not +frighten, where could he turn for certain things to which his +weakness––or was it his strength––clung?</p> +<p>A place to come to; someone peculiarly his own; his without +effort to be worthy of. Larry resorted to new tactics +with Mary-Clare at this critical moment. The smile faded +from his sneering lips; he leaned forward and the manner that +made him valuable to Maclin fell upon him like a disguise. +So startling was the change, that Mary-Clare looked at him +in surprise.</p> +<p>“Mary-Clare, you’ve got me guessing”––there was almost +surrender in the tone––“a woman like you doesn’t take the +stand you have without reason. I know that. Naturally, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +I was upset, I spoke too quick. Tell me now in your own +way. I’ll try to understand.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was taken off guard. Her desire and sore need +rushed past caution and carried her to Larry.</p> +<p>She, too, leaned forward, and her lovely eyes were shining. +“Oh! I hoped you would try, Larry,” she said. “I know +I’m trying and put things in a way that you resent, but I +have a great, a true reason, if I could only make you see it.”</p> +<p>“Now, you’re talking sense, Mary-Clare,” Larry spoke +boyishly. “Just over-tired, I guess you were; seeing things +in the dark. Men know the world better than women; +that’s why some things are <i>as</i> they are. I’m not going to +press you, Mary-Clare, I’m going to try and help you. You +<i>are</i> my wife, aren’t you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, oh! yes, Larry.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m a man and you’re a woman.”</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s so, Larry.”</p> +<p>Step by step, ridiculous as it might seem, Mary-Clare +meant, even now, to keep as close to Larry as she could. +He misunderstood; he thought he was winning against her +folly.</p> +<p>“Marriage was meant for one thing between man and +woman!”</p> +<p>This came out triumphantly. Then Mary-Clare threw +back her head and spiritually retreated to her vantage of +safety.</p> +<p>“No, it wasn’t,” she said, taking to her own hard-won +trail desperately. “No, it wasn’t! I cannot accept that +Larry––why, I have seen where such reasoning would lead. +I saw the night our last baby came––and went. I’d grow old +and broken––you’d hate me; there would be children––many +of them, poor, sad little things––looking at me with dreadful +eyes, accusing me. If marriage means only one thing––it +means that to me and you, and no woman has the right to––to +become like that.”</p> +<p>“Wanting to defy the laws of God, eh?” Larry grew virtuous. +“We all grow old, don’t we? Men work for women; +women do their share. Children are natural, ain’t they? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +What’s the institution of marriage for, anyway?” And now +Larry’s mouth was again hardening.</p> +<p>“Larry, oh! Larry, please don’t make me laugh! If I +should laugh there would never be any hope of our getting +together.”</p> +<p>For some reason this almost hysterical appeal roused the +worst in Larry. The things Maclin had told him that day +again took fire and spread where Maclin could never have +dreamed of their spreading. The liquor was losing its sustaining +effect––it was leaving Larry to flounder in his weak +will, and he abandoned his futile tactics.</p> +<p>“Who’s that man at the inn?” he asked.</p> +<p>The suddenness of the question, its irrelevancy, made +Mary-Clare start. For a moment the words meant absolutely +nothing to her and then because she was bared, nervously, +to every attack, she flushed––recalling with absurd +clearness Northrup’s look and tone.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” she said.</p> +<p>“That’s a lie. How long has he been here, snooping +around?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t the slightest idea, Larry.” This was not true, +and Larry caught the quiver in the tones.</p> +<p>Again he got up and became the masterful male; the injured +husband; the protector of his home. There were still +tactics to be tested.</p> +<p>“See here, Mary-Clare, I’ve caught on. You never cared +for me. You married me from what you called duty; your +sense of decency held until your own comfort and pleasure +got in between––then you were ready to fling me off like an +old mit and term it by high-sounding names. Now comes +along this stranger, from God knows where, looking about +for the devil knows what––and taking what lies about in +order to pass the time. I haven’t lived in the world for nothing, +Mary-Clare. Now lay this along with the other woman-thoughts +you’re so fond of. I’m going upstairs, for I’m tired +and all-fired disgusted, but remember, what I can’t hold, +no other man is going to get, not even for a little time while +he hangs about. Folks are going to see just what is going on, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +believe me! I’m going to leave all the doors and windows +open. I’m going to give you your head, but I’ll keep hold of +the reins.”</p> +<p>And then, because it was all so hideously wrong and twisted +and comical, Mary-Clare laughed! She laughed noiselessly, +until the tears dimmed her eyes. Larry watched her uneasily.</p> +<p>“Oh, Larry,” she managed her voice at last, “I never knew +that anything so dreadfully wrong could be made of nothing. +You’ve created a terrible something, and I wonder if you +know it?”</p> +<p>“That’s enough!” Larry strode toward the stairway. +“Your husband’s no fool, my girl, and the cheap, little, old +tricks are plain enough to him.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare watched her husband pass from view; heard +him tramp heavily in the room above. She sat by the dead +fire and thought of him as she first knew him––knew him? +Then her eyes widened. She had never known him; she had +taken him as she had taken all that her doctor had left to her, +and she had failed; failed because she had not thought her +woman’s thought until it was too late.</p> +<p>After all her high aims and earnest endeavour to meet this +critical moment in her life Mary-Clare acknowledged, as +she sat by the ash-strewn hearth, that it had degenerated +into a cheap and almost comic farce. To her narrow vision +her problem seemed never to have been confronted before; +her world of the Forest would have no sympathy for it, or +her; Larry had reduced it to the ugliest aspect, and by so +doing had turned her thoughts where they might never have +turned and upon the stranger who might always have remained +a stranger.</p> +<p>Alone in the deadly quiet room, the girl of Mary-Clare +passed from sight and the woman was supreme; a little hard, +in order to combat the future: quickened to a futile sense of +injustice, but young enough, even at that moment, to demand +of life something vital; something better than the cruel thing +that might evolve unless she bore herself courageously.</p> +<p>Unconsciously she was planning her course. She would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +go her way with her old smile, her old outward bearing. A +promise was a promise––she would never forget that, and +as far as she could pay with that which was hers to give, she +would pay, but outside of that she would not let life cheat +her.</p> +<p>Bending toward the dead fire on the hearth, Mary-Clare +made her silent covenant.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V' id='CHAPTER_V'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> +<p>The storm had kept Northrup indoors for many hours +each day, but he had put those hours to good use.</p> +<p>He outlined his plot; read and worked. He felt +that he was becoming part of the quiet life of the inn and the +Forest, but more and more he was becoming an object of intense +but unspoken interest.</p> +<p>“He’s writing a book!” Aunt Polly confided to Peter. +“But he doesn’t want anything said about it.”</p> +<p>“He needn’t get scared. I like him too well to let on and +I reckon one thing’s as good as another to tell <i>us</i>. I lay my +last dollar, Polly, on this: he’s after Maclin; not with him. +I’m thinking the Forest will get a shake-up some day and +I’m willing to bide my time. Writing a book! Him, a full-blooded +young feller, writing a book. Gosh! Why don’t +he take to knitting?”</p> +<p>Northrup also sent a letter to Manly. He realized that +he might set his conscience at rest by keeping his end of the +line open, but he wanted to have one steady hand, at least, +at the other end.</p> +<p>“Until further notice,” he wrote to Manly, “I’m here, and +let it go at that. Should there be any need, even the slightest, +get in touch with me. As for the rest, I’ve found myself, +Manly. I’m getting acquainted, and working like the devil.”</p> +<p>Manly read the letter, grinned, and put it in a box marked +“Confidential, but unimportant.”</p> +<p>Then he leaned back in his chair, and before he relegated +Northrup to “unimportant,” gave him two or three thoughts.</p> +<p>“The writing bug has got him, root and branch. He’s +burrowed in his hole and wants the earth to tumble in over +him. Talk about letting sleeping dogs lie. Lord! they’re +nothing to the animals of Northrup’s type. And some darn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +fools”––Manly was thinking of Kathryn––“go nosing around +and yapping at the creatures’ heels and feel hurt when they +turn and snap.”</p> +<p>And Northrup, in his quiet room at the inn, slept at night +like a tired boy and dreamed. Now when Northrup began +to dream, he was always on the lookout. A few skirmishing, +nonsensical dreams marked a state of mind peculiarly associated +with his best working mood. They caught and held +his attention; they were like signals of the real thing. The +Real Thing was a certain dream that, in every detail, was +familiar to Northrup and exact in its repetition.</p> +<p>Northrup had not been long at the inn when the significant +dream came.</p> +<p>He was back in a big sunny room that he knew as well as +his own in his mother’s house. There he stood, like a glad, +returned traveller, counting the pieces of furniture; deeply +grateful that they were in their places and carefully preserved.</p> +<p>The minutest articles were noted. A vase of flowers; the +curtains swaying in the breeze; an elusive odour that often +haunted Northrup’s waking hours. The room was now as +it always had been. That being assured, Northrup, still in +deep sleep, turned to the corridor and expectantly viewed the +closed doors. But right here a new note was interjected. +Previously, the corridor and doors were things he had gazed +upon, feeling as a stranger might; but now they were like the +room; quite his own. He had trod the passage; had looked +into the empty rooms––they were empty but had held a suggestion +of things about to occur.</p> +<p>And then waking suddenly, Northrup understood––he had +come to the place of his dream. The Inn was the old setting. +In a clairvoyant state, he had been in this place before!</p> +<p>He went to the door of his room and glanced down the +passage. All was quiet. The dream made an immediate +impression on Northrup. Not only did it arouse his power +of creation, strengthen and illumine it; but it evolved a sense +of hurry that inspired him without worrying him. It was +like the frenzy that seizes an artist when he wants to get a bit +of beauty on canvas in a certain light that may change in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +the next minute. He felt that what he was about to do must +be done rapidly and he knew that he would have strength to +meet the demand.</p> +<p>He was quickened to every slight thing that came his way: +faces, voices, colour. He realized the unrest that his very +innocent presence inspired. He wondered about it. What +lay seething under the thick crust of King’s Forest that was +bubbling to the surface? Was his coming the one thing +needed to––to–––</p> +<p>And then he thought of that figure of speech that Manly +had used. The black lava flowing; oozing, silently. The +whole world, in the big and in the little, was being awakened +and aroused––it was that, not his presence, that confused the +Forest.</p> +<p>The habits of the house amused and moved him sympathetically. +Little Aunt Polly, it appeared, was Judge and +Final Court of Justice to the people. Through her he felt +he must look for guidance and understanding.</p> +<p>There were always two hours in the afternoons set aside +for “hearings.” Perched on the edge of the couch, pillows to +right and left, eyeglasses aslant and knitting in hand, Aunt +Polly was at the disposal of her neighbours. They could +make appointments for private interviews or air their grievances +before others, as the spirit urged them. Awful verdicts, +clean-cut and simple, were arrived at; advice, grim and +far-reaching, was generously given, but woe to the liar or +sniveller.</p> +<p>A curious sort of understanding grew up between Northrup +and the little woman concerning these conclaves. Polly +sensed his interest in all that went on and partly comprehended +the real reason for it. She had been strangely impressed +by the knowledge that her guest was a writer-man +and therefore conscientious about the mental food she set +before him. She did not share Peter’s doubts. Some +things she felt were not for Northrup and that fast-flying pen +of his! But there were other glimpses behind the shields of +King’s Forest that did not matter. To these Northrup was +welcome.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></div> +<p>When the hour came for <i>court</i> to sit, it became Northrup’s +habit to seek the front porch for exercise and fresh air. Sometimes +the window nearest to Aunt Polly’s sofa would be left +open! Sometimes it was closed.</p> +<p>In the latter emergency Northrup sought his exercise and +fresh air at a distance.</p> +<p>One day Maclin called. Northrup had not seen him before +and was interested. Indirectly he was concerned with the +story in hand for he was the mysterious friend of Larry Rivers +and the puller of many strings in King’s Forest; strings that +were manipulated in ways that aroused suspicion and would +be great stuff in a book.</p> +<p>Northrup had seen Maclin from his room window and, +when all was safe, quietly took to the back stairs and silently +reached the piazza.</p> +<p>The window by Aunt Polly’s couch was open a little higher +than usual and the words that greeted Northrup were:</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> call it muggy, Mr. Maclin. That’s what <i>I</i> call it, and +if the draught hits the nape of your neck, set the other side of +the hearth where there ain’t no draught.”</p> +<p>This, apparently, the caller proceeded to do. Outside +Northrup took a chair and refrained from smoking. He +wanted his presence to be unsuspected by the caller. He was +confident that Aunt Polly knew of his proximity, and he felt +sure that Maclin had come to find out more about him.</p> +<p>From the first Northrup was aware of a subtle meaning for +the call and he wondered if the woman, clicking her needles, +fully comprehended it! The man, Maclin, he soon gathered, +was no ordinary personage. He had a kind of superficial +polish and culture that were evident in the tones of his voice. +After having accounted for his presence by stating that he +was looking about a bit and felt like being friendly, Maclin +was rounded up by Aunt Polly asking what he was looking +about at?</p> +<p>Maclin laughed.</p> +<p>“To tell the truth,” he said, as if taking Aunt Polly into +his intimate confidence, “I was looking at the Point. A +darned dirty bit of ground with all those squatters on it.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></div> +<p>“We haven’t ever called ’em that, Mr. Maclin. They’re +folks with nowhere else to live.” Aunt Polly clicked her +needles.</p> +<p>“They’re a dirty, lazy lot. I can’t get ’em to work over +at the mines, do what I will.”</p> +<p>“As to that, Mr. Maclin, folks as are mostly drunk on bad +whiskey can’t be expected to do good work, can they? Then +again, if they are sober, I dare say they are too keen about +those inventions of yours that must be so secret. Foreigners, +for that purpose, I reckon are easier to manage.”</p> +<p>Maclin shifted his position and put the nape of his neck +nearer the window again and Northrup lost any doubt he had +about Aunt Polly’s understanding of the situation.</p> +<p>Maclin laughed. It was a trick of his to laugh while he +got control of himself.</p> +<p>“You’re a real idealist, Miss Heathcote; most ladies are, +some men are, too, until they have to handle the ugly facts +of life.”</p> +<p>Peter was meant by “some men,” Northrup suspected.</p> +<p>“Now, speaking of the whiskey, Miss Heathcote, it’s as +good over at my place as the men can afford, and better, too. +I don’t make anything at the Cosey Bar, I can assure you, +but I know that men have to have their drink, and I think +it’s better to keep it under control.”</p> +<p>“That’s real human of you, Mr. Maclin, but I wish to goodness +you’d keep the men under control after they’ve had +their drink. They certainly do make a mess of the peace +and happiness of others while they’re indulging in their +rights.”</p> +<p>A silence, then Maclin started again. “Truth is, Miss +Heathcote, the men ’round here are shucks, and I’m keeping +my eye open for the real interest of King’s Forest, not the +sentimental interest. Now, that Point––we ought to clean +that up, build decent, comfortable cottages there and a wharf; +keep the men as have ambition and can pay rents, and get +others in, foreigners if you like, who know their business and +can set a good example. We’re all running to seed down here, +Miss Heathcote, and that’s a fact. I don’t mind telling you, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +you’re a woman of a thousand and can see what’s what, I +<i>am</i> inventing some pretty clever things down at my place +and it wouldn’t be safe to let on until they’re perfected, and +I do want good workers, not loafers or snoopers, and I <i>do</i> +want that Point. It’s nearer to the mines than any other +spot on the Lake. I want to build a good road to it; the +squatters could be utilized on that––the Pointers, I mean. +You and your brother ought to be keen enough to work with +me, not against me. Sentiment oughtn’t to go too far where +a lot of lazy beggars are concerned.”</p> +<p>The clicking of the needles was the only sound after Maclin’s +long speech; he was waiting and breathing quicker. +Northrup could hear the deep breathing.</p> +<p>“How do you feel about it, Miss Heathcote?”</p> +<p>“Oh! I don’t let my feelings get the better of me till I +know what’s stirring them.”</p> +<p>Northrup stifled a laugh, but Maclin, feeling secure, +laughed loudly.</p> +<p>“It’s like asking me, Mr. Maclin, to get stirred up and set +going by a pig in a poke.” Aunt Polly’s voice was thin and +sharp. “I always <i>see</i> the pig before I get excited, maybe it +would be best kept in the poke. Now, Peter and me have a +real feeling about the Point––it belonged, as far as we know, +to old Doctor Rivers, and all that he had he left to Mary-Clare +and we feel sort of responsible to him and her. We +would all shield anything that belonged to the old doctor.”</p> +<p>“Is her title clear to that land?” Maclin did not laugh +now, Northrup noted that.</p> +<p>“Land! Mr. Maclin, anything as high-sounding as a title +tacked on to the Point is real ridiculous! But if the title +ain’t clear, I guess brother Peter can make it so. Peter being +magistrate comes in handy.”</p> +<p>“Miss Heathcote”––from his tones Northrup judged that +Maclin was coming into the open––“Miss Heathcote, the title +of the Point isn’t a clear one. I’ve made it my business to +find out. Now I’m going to prove my friendliness––I’m not +going to push what I know, I’ll take all the risks myself. I’ll +give Mrs. Rivers a fair price for that land and everything will +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +be peaceful and happy if you will use your influence with her +and the squatters. Will you?”</p> +<p>Aunt Polly slipped from the sofa. Northrup heard her, and +imagined the look on her face.</p> +<p>“No, Mr. Maclin, I won’t! When the occasion rises up, +I’ll advise Mary-Clare against pigs in pokes and I’ll advise +the squatters to squat on!”</p> +<p>Northrup again had difficulty in smothering his laugh, but +Maclin’s next move surprised and sobered him.</p> +<p>“Isn’t that place under the stairs, Miss Heathcote, where +the bar of the old inn used to be?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, yes!” It was an ominous sign when Aunt Polly +addressed any one as “sir.” “But that was before our time. +Peter and I cleaned the place out as best we could, but there +are times now, even, while I sit here alone in the dark, when +I seem to see shadows of poor wives and mothers and children +stealing in that door a-looking for their men. Don’t that +thought ever haunt you, Mr. Maclin, over at the Cosey +Bar?”</p> +<p>They were sparring, these two.</p> +<p>“No, it never does. I take things as they are, Miss Heathcote, +and let them go at that. Now, if <i>I</i> were to run this +place, do you know, I’d do it right and proper and have a +what’s what and make money.”</p> +<p>“But you’re not running this inn, sir.”</p> +<p>“Certainly I’m not <i>now</i>, that’s plain enough, or I’d make +King’s Forest sit up and take notice. Well, well, Miss +Heathcote, just talk over with your brother what I’ve +said to you. A man looks at some things different from a +woman. Good-bye, ma’am, good-bye. Looks as if it were +clearing.”</p> +<p>As Maclin came upon the piazza he stopped short at the +sight of Northrup by the open window. He wasn’t often +betrayed into showing surprise, but he was now. He had +come hoping to get a glimpse of the stranger; had come to +get in an early warning of his power, but he wanted to control +conditions.</p> +<p>“Good afternoon,” he muttered. “Looks more like clearing, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +doesn’t it? Stranger in these parts? I’ve heard of you; +haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you.”</p> +<p>Northrup regarded Maclin coolly as one man does another +when there is no apparent reason why he should not.</p> +<p>“The clouds <i>do</i> seem lifting. No, I’m not what you might +call a stranger in King’s Forest. Some lake, isn’t it, and good +woodland?”</p> +<p>“One of the family, eh? Happy to meet you.” Maclin +offered a broad, heavy hand. Northrup took it and smiled +cordially without speaking. “Staying on some time?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t decided exactly.”</p> +<p>“Come over to the mines and look around. Nothing there +as yet but a dump heap, so to speak, but I’m working out a big +proposition and while I have to go slow and keep somewhat +under cover for a time––I don’t mind showing what <i>can</i> be +shown.”</p> +<p>“Thanks,” Northrup nodded, “I’ll get over if I find time. +I’m here on business myself and am rather busy in a slow, +lazy fashion, but I’ll not forget.”</p> +<p>Maclin put on his hat and turned away. Northrup got an +unpleasant impression of the man’s head in the back. It +was flat and his neck met it in flabby folds that wrinkled +under certain emotions as other men’s foreheads did. The +expressive neck was wrinkling now.</p> +<p>Giving Aunt Polly time to recover her poise, Northrup +went inside. He found the small woman hovering about the +room, patting the furniture, dusting it here and there with +her apron. Her glasses were quite misty.</p> +<p>“I hope you kept your ears open,” she exclaimed when +she turned to Northrup.</p> +<p>“I did, Aunt Polly! Come, sit down and let’s talk it +over.”</p> +<p>Polly obeyed at once and let restraint drop.</p> +<p>“That man has a real terrible effect on me, son. He’s +like acid sorter creeping in. I don’t suppose he could do +what he hints––but his hints just naturally make me anxious.”</p> +<p>“He cannot get a hold on you, Aunt Polly. Surely your +brother is more than a match for any one like Maclin.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></div> +<p>“When it comes to that, son, Peter can fight his own in +the open, but he ain’t any hand to sense danger in the dark +till it’s too late. Peter never can believe a fellow man is +doing him a bad turn till he’s bowled over. But then,” she +ran on plaintively, “it ain’t just us––Peter, Mary-Clare, +and me––it’s them folks down on the Point,” the old face +quivered touchingly. “The old doctor used to say it was +God’s acre for the living; the old doctor would have his joke. +The Point always was a mean piece of land for any regular +use, but it reaches out a bit into the lake and the fishing’s +good round it, and you can fasten boats to it and it’s a real +safe place for old folks and children. There’s always drifting +creatures wherever you may be, son, and King’s Forest +has ’em, but the old doctor held as they ought to have some +place to move in, if we let ’em be born. So he set aside the +Point and never took anything from them, though he gave +them a lot, what with doctoring and funerals. Dear, dear! +there are real comical happenings at the Point. I often sit +and shake over them. Real human nature down there! +Mary-Clare goes down and reads the Bible to the Pointers––they +just about adore her, and she wouldn’t sell them out, +not for bread and butter for her very own! It’s the title as +worries Peter and me, son. We’ve always known it was +tricky, but, lands! we never thought it would come to arguing +about and I put it to you: What does this Maclin man +want of that Point?”</p> +<p>Northrup looked interested.</p> +<p>“I’m going to find out,” he said presently, feeling strangely +as if he had become part and parcel of the matter. “I’m +going to find out and you mustn’t worry any more, Aunt +Polly. We’ll try Maclin at his own game and go him one +better. He cannot account for me, I’m making him uneasy. +Now you help the thing along by just squatting––that’s +a good phrase of yours; one can accomplish much by +just squatting on his holdings.”</p> +<p>And now that tricky imagination of Northrup’s pictured +Mary-Clare in the thick of it and carrying out the old doctor’s +whims; taking to the desolate bit of ground the sweetness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +and brightness of her loveliness. It was disconcerting, +but at the same time gratifying, that pervasive quality of +Mary-Clare. She was already as deep in the plot of Northrup’s +work as she was in the Forest. Whenever Northrup +saw her, and he did often, on the road he was amused at the +feeling he had of <i>knowing</i> her. So might it be had he come +across an old acquaintance who did not recognize him. It +was a feeling wrought with excitement and danger; he might +some day startle her by taking advantage of it.</p> +<p>The weather, after the storm, took an unexpected turn. +Instead of bringing frost it brought days almost as warm as +late summer. The colour glistened; the leaves clung to +the branches, but the nights were cool. The lake lay like an +opal, flashing gorgeously in the sun, or like a moonstone, +when the sun sank behind the hills.</p> +<p>One afternoon Northrup went to the deserted chapel on +the island. He walked around the building which was covered +with a crimson vine; he looked up at the belfry, in which +hung the bell so responsive to unseen hands.</p> +<p>The place was like a haunted spot, but beautiful beyond +words. Northrup tried the door––it swung in; it shared the +peculiarities of all the other doors of the Forest.</p> +<p>Inside, the light came ruddily through the scarlet creeper +that covered the windows––no stained glass could have been +more exquisite; the benches were dusty and uncushioned, the +pulpit dark and reproving in its aloofness. By the most westerly +window there was a space where, apparently, an organ +had once stood. There was a table near by and a chair.</p> +<p>An idea gripped Northrup––he would come to the chapel +and write. There was a stove by the door. He could +utilize that should necessity arise.</p> +<p>He sat down and considered. Presently he was lost in +the working out of his growing plot; already he was well on his +way. Over night, as it were, his theme had become clear +and connected. He meant to become part of his book, +rather than its creator; he would be governed by events; +not seek to govern them. In short, as far as in him lay, he +would live, the next few weeks, as a man does who has lost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +his identity and moves among his fellows, intent on the present, +but with the background a blank.</p> +<p>Northrup felt that if, at the end of his self-ordained exile, +he had regained his health, outlined a book, and ascertained +what was the cause of the suspicious unrest of the Forest, +he would have accomplished more than he had set out to do +and would be in a position where he could decide definitely +upon his course regarding the war, about which few, apparently, +felt as he did.</p> +<p>It was his spiritual and physical struggle, as he contemplated +the matter now, that was his undoing. He was trying +to drive the horror from his consciousness, as a thing apart +from him and his. He was overwhelmed by the possessiveness +of the awful thing. It caught and held him, threatened +everything he held sacred. Well, this should be the test! +He would abide by the outcome of his stay in the Forest.</p> +<p>At that moment Maclin, oddly enough, came into Northrup’s +thoughts and the fat, ingratiating man became part, not +of the plot of the book, but the grim struggle across the sea.</p> +<p>“Good God!” Northrup spoke aloud; “could it be possible?” +All along he had been able to ignore the suggestions +of disloyalty and treachery that many of his friends held, but +a glaring possibility of Maclin playing a hideous rôle alarmed +him; made every fibre of his being stiffen. The man was +undoubtedly German, though his name was not. What was +he up to?</p> +<p>There are moments in life when human beings are aware of +being but puppets in a big game; they may tug at the strings +that control them; may perform within certain limits, but +must resign themselves to the fact that the strings are unbreakable. +Such a feeling possessed Northrup now. He laughed. +He was not inclined to struggle––he bowed to the inevitable +with a keen desire for coöperation.</p> +<p>At this point something caused Northrup to look around.</p> +<p>Upon a bench near by, hunched like a gargoyle, with her +vague face nested in the palms of her thin hands, sat the +girl he had noted in the yellow house the day of his arrival. +One glance at her and she seemed to bring the scene back. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +The sunny room, the children, the dogs, and the girl on the +table, who had soon become so familiar to him.</p> +<p>“Good Lord!” he ejaculated. “And who are you?”</p> +<p>“Jan-an.”</p> +<p>Another name become a person! Northrup smiled. They +were all materializing; the names, the stories.</p> +<p>“I see. Well?”</p> +<p>There was a pause. The girl was studying him slowly, almost +painfully, but she did not speak.</p> +<p>“Where do you live, Jan-an?”</p> +<p>This made talk and filled an uncomfortable pause.</p> +<p>“One place and another. I was left.”</p> +<p>“Left?”</p> +<p>“Yep. Left on the town. Folks take me in turn-about. +I just jog along. I’m staying over to the Point now. Next +I’m going to Aunt Polly. I chooses, I do. I likes to jog +along.”</p> +<p>The girl was inclined to be friendly and she was amusing.</p> +<p>“Did you hear the bell ring the night you came––the ha’nt +bell?” she asked.</p> +<p>“I certainly did.”</p> +<p>“’Twas a warning, and then here <i>you</i> are! Generally +warnings mean bad things, but Aunt Polly says you’re right +enough and generally they ain’t when they’re young.”</p> +<p>“Who are not, Jan-an?”</p> +<p>“Men. When they get old, like Uncle Peter, they meller +or–––”</p> +<p>“Or what?”</p> +<p>“Naturally drop off.”</p> +<p>Northrup laughed. The sound disturbed the girl and she +scowled.</p> +<p>“It’s terrible to have folks think you’re a fool to be laughed +at,” she muttered. “I can’t get things over.”</p> +<p>“What do you want to get over, Jan-an?”</p> +<p>Northrup was becoming interested. If straws show the +wind’s quarter, then a bit of driftwood may be depended upon +to indicate the course of a stream. Northrup was again +both amused and surprised to find how his very ordinary presence +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +in King’s Forest was, apparently, affecting the natives. +Jan-an took on new proportions as she was regarded in the +light of a straw or a bit of driftwood.</p> +<p>“Yer feelin’s,” the girl answered simply. “When you don’ +understand like most do, yer feelin’s count, they do!”</p> +<p>“They certainly do, Jan-an.”</p> +<p>The girl considered this and struggled, evidently, to adjust +her companion to suit her needs, but at last she shook her +head.</p> +<p>“I ain’t going to take no chances with yer!” she muttered +at length. “’Tain’t natural. Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter +ain’t risking so much as––her–––”</p> +<p>“You mean–––” Northrup felt guilty. He knew whom +the girl meant––he felt as if he were taking advantage; +eavesdropping or reading someone else’s letter.</p> +<p>Jan-an sunk her face deeper into the cup of her hands––this +pressed her features up and made her look laughably +ugly. She was not taking much heed of the man near by; she +was seeking to collect all the shreds of evidence she had gathered +from listening, in her rapt, tense way, and making some +definite case for, or against, the stranger who, Aunt Polly +had assured her, was “good and proper.”</p> +<p>“Now, everything was running on same as common,” +Jan-an muttered––“same as common. Then that old ha’nt +bell took to ringing, like all possessed. I just naturally +thought ’bout you dropping out of a clear sky and asking +us the way to the inn when it was plain as the nose on yer +face how yer should go. What do you suppose folks paint +sign-boards for, eh?” The twisted ideas sprang into a +question.</p> +<p>“That’s one on me, Jan-an!” Northrup laughed. “I +was afraid I’d be found out.”</p> +<p>“Can’t yer read?” Jan-an could not utterly distrust this +person who was puzzling her.</p> +<p>“Yes, I can read and write, Jan-an.”</p> +<p>“Then what in tarnation made yer plump in that way?”</p> +<p>“The Lord knows, Jan-an!” Almost the tone was reverent.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></div> +<p>“Then <i>he</i> came ructioning in––Larry, I mean. An’ everything +is different from what it was. Just like a bubbling pot”––poor +Jan-an grew picturesque––“with the top wobbling. I +wish”––she turned pleading eyes on Northrup––“I wish ter +God you’d clear out.”</p> +<p>For a moment Northrup felt again the weakening desire +to follow this advice, but, as he thought on, his chin set +in a fixed way that meant that he was not going to move on, +but stay where he was. He meant, also, to get what he could +from this strange creature who had sought him out. He +convinced himself that it was legitimate, and since he meant +to get at the bottom of what was going on, he must use +what came to hand.</p> +<p>“So Larry has come back?” he asked indifferently. Then: +“I’ve caught sight of him from a distance. Good-looking +fellow, this Larry of yours, Jan-an.”</p> +<p>“He ain’t mine. If he was–––” Jan-an looked mutinous +and Northrup laughed.</p> +<p>“See here, you!” The girl was irritated by the laugh. +“Larry, he thinks that Mary-Clare has set eyes on yer +before yer came that day. Larry is making ructions, and +folks are talking.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’s ridiculous.” Northrup found his heart +beating a bit quicker.</p> +<p>“I know it is, but Maclin can make Larry think anything. +Honest to God, yer ain’t siding ’long of Maclin?”</p> +<p>“Honest to God, Jan-an, I’m not.”</p> +<p>“Then why did yer stumble in on us that way?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know, Jan-an. That’s honest to God, too!”</p> +<p>“Then if nothing is mattering ter yer, and one place is as +good as another, why don’t you go along?”</p> +<p>Northrup gave this due consideration. He was preparing to +answer something in his own mind. The dull-faced girl was +having a peculiar effect upon him. He was getting excited.</p> +<p>“Well, Jan-an,” he said at last, “it’s this way. Things +<i>are</i> mattering. Mattering like thunder! And one place +isn’t as good as another; this place is the only place on the +map just now––catch on?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></div> +<p>Jan-an was making strenuous efforts to “catch on”; her +face appeared like a rubber mask that unseen fingers were +pinching into comical expressions.</p> +<p>Northrup began to wonder just how mentally lacking the +girl was.</p> +<p>“But tuck this away in your noddle, Jan-an. Your Uncle +Peter and Aunt Polly have the right understanding. They +trust me, and you will some day. I’m going to stay right +here––pass that along to anyone who asks you, Jan-an. I’m +going to stay here and see this thing out!”</p> +<p>“What thing?”</p> +<p>The elusive something that was puzzling the girl, the +sense of something wrong that her blinded but sensitive nature +suffered from, loomed close. This man might make it +plain.</p> +<p>“What thing?” she asked huskily. Then Northrup +laughed that disturbing laugh of his.</p> +<p>“I don’t know, Jan-an. ’Pon my soul, girl, I’d give a +good deal to know, but I don’t. I’m like you, just feeling +things.”</p> +<p>Jan-an rose stiffly as if she were strung on wires. Her +joints cracked as they fell into place, but once the long body +stood upright, Northrup noticed that it was not without a +certain rough grace and it looked strong and capable of great +endurance.</p> +<p>“I’ve been following you since the first day when you +landed,” Jan-an spoke calmly. There was no warning or +distrust in the voice, merely a statement of fact. “And I’m +going to keep on following and watching, so long as you +stay.”</p> +<p>“Good! I’ll never be really lonely then, and you’ll sooner +get to trusting me.”</p> +<p>“I ain’t much for trusting till I knows.”</p> +<p>The girl turned and strode away. “Well, if you ever +need me, try me out, Jan-an. Good-bye.”</p> +<p>Northrup felt ill at ease after Jan-an passed from sight.</p> +<p>“Of all the messes!” he thought. “It makes me superstitious. +What’s the matter with this Forest?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></div> +<p>And then Maclin again came into focus. Around Maclin, +apparently, the public thought revolved.</p> +<p>“They don’t trust Maclin.” Northrup began to reduce +things to normal. “He’s got them guessing with his damned +inventions and secrecy. Then every outsider means a possible +accomplice of Maclin. They hate the foreigners he brings +here. They have got their eyes on me. All right, Maclin, +my ready-to-wear villain, here’s to you! And before we’re +through with each other some interesting things will occur, +or I’ll miss my guess.”</p> +<p>In much the same mood of excitement, Northrup had entered +upon the adventure of writing his former book, with +this difference: He had gone to the East Side of his home +city with all his anchors cast in a familiar harbour; he was +on the open sea now. There had been his mother and Kathryn +before; the reliefs of home comforts, “fumigations” +Kathryn termed them; now he was part of his environment, +determined to cast no backward look until his appointed task +was finished in failure or––success.</p> +<p>The chapel and the day had soothed and comforted him: +he was ready to abandon the hold on every string. This +space of time, of unfettered thought and work, was like existence +in a preparation camp. This became a fixed idea presently––he +was being prepared for service; fitted for his place +in a new Scheme. That was the only safe way to regard life, +at the best. Here, there, it mattered not, but the preparation +counted.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI' id='CHAPTER_VI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> +<p>When Mary-Clare awoke the next morning she heard +Larry still moving about overhead as if he had been +doing it all night. He was opening drawers; going +to and fro between closet and bed; pausing, rustling papers, +and giving the impression, generally, that he was bent upon a +definite plan.</p> +<p>Noreen was sleeping deeply, one little arm stretched over +her pillow and toward her mother as if feeling for the dear +presence. Somehow the picture comforted Mary-Clare. +She was strangely at peace. After her bungling––and she +knew she had bungled with Larry––she <i>had</i> secured safety +for Noreen and herself. It was right: the other way would +have bent and cowed her and ended as so many women’s lives +ended. Larry never could understand, but God could! +Mary-Clare had a simple faith and it helped her now.</p> +<p>While she lay thinking and looking at Noreen she became +conscious of Larry tiptoeing downstairs. She started up +hoping to begin the new era as right as might be. She wanted +to get breakfast and start whatever might follow as sanely as +possible.</p> +<p>But Larry had gone so swiftly, once he reached the lower +floor, that only by running after him in her light apparel +could she attract his attention. He was out of the house +and on the road toward the mines!</p> +<p>Then Mary-Clare, seized by one of those presentiments +that often light a dark moment, closed the door, shivering +slightly, and went upstairs.</p> +<p>The carefully prepared bedchamber was in great disorder. +The bedclothes were pulled from the bed and lay in a heap +near by; towels, the soiled linen that Larry had discarded for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +the fresh, that had been placed in the bureau drawers, was +rolled in a bundle and flung on the hearth.</p> +<p>This aspect of the room did not surprise Mary-Clare. +Larry generally dropped what he was for the moment +through with, but there was more here than heedless carelessness. +Drawers were pulled out and empty. The closet was +open and empty. There was a finality about the scene that +could not be misunderstood. Larry was gone in a definite +and sweeping manner.</p> +<p>Dazed and perplexed, Mary-Clare went to the closet and +suddenly was made aware, by the sight of an empty box +upon the floor, that in her preparation of the room she had +left that box, containing the old letters of her doctor, on a +shelf and that now they had been taken away!</p> +<p>What this loss signified could hardly be estimated at +first. So long had those letters been guide-posts and reinforcements, +so long had they comforted and soothed her like +a touch or look of her old friend, that now she raised the +empty box with a sharp sense of pain. So might she gaze +at Noreen’s empty crib had the child been taken from her.</p> +<p>Then, intuitively, Mary-Clare tried to be just, she thought +that Larry must have taken the letters because of old and +now severed connections They <i>were</i> his letters, but–––</p> +<p>Here Mary-Clare, also because she was just, considered the +other possible cause. Larry might use the letters against her +in the days to come. Show them to others to prove her +falseness and ingratitude. This possibility, however, was +only transitory. What she had done was inevitable, Mary-Clare +knew that, and it seemed to her right––oh! <i>so</i> right. +There was only one real fact to face. Larry was gone; the +letters were gone.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare began to tremble. The cold room, all that had +so deeply moved her was shaking her nerves. Then she +thought that in his hurry Larry might have overturned the +box––the letters might be on the shelf still. Quickly she went +into the closet and felt carefully every corner. The letters +were not there.</p> +<p>Then with white face and chattering teeth she turned and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +faced Jan-an. The girl had come noiselessly to the house +and found her way to the room where she had heard sounds––she +had seen Larry fleeing on the lake road as she came over +the fields from the Point.</p> +<p>“What’s up?” she asked in her dull, even tones, while in +her vacant eyes the groping, tender look grew.</p> +<p>“Oh! Jan-an,” Mary-Clare was off her guard, “the letters; +my dear old doctor’s letters––they are gone; gone.” Her +feeling seemed out of all proportion to the loss.</p> +<p>“Who took ’em?” And then Jan-an did one of those +quick, intelligent things that sometimes shamed sharper wits––she +went to the hearth. “There ain’t been no fire,” she +muttered. “He ain’t burned ’em. What did he take them +for?”</p> +<p>This question steadied Mary-Clare. “I’m not <i>sure</i>, Jan-an, +that any one has <i>taken</i> the letters. You know how careless +I am. I may have put them somewhere else.”</p> +<p>“If yer have there’s no need fussing. I’ll find ’em. I +kin find anything if yer give me time. I have ter get on the +scent.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare gave a nervous laugh.</p> +<p>“Just old letters,” she murmured, “but they meant, oh! +they meant so much. Come,” she said suddenly, “come, I +must dress and get breakfast.”</p> +<p>“I’ve et.” Jan-an was gathering the bedclothes from the +floor. She selected the coverlid and brought it to Mary-Clare. +“There, now,” she whispered, wrapping it about her, +“you come along and get into bed downstairs till I make +breakfast. You need looking after more than Noreen. God! +what messes some folks can make by just living!”</p> +<p>Things were reduced to the commonplace in an hour.</p> +<p>The warmth of her bed, the sight of Noreen, the sound of +Jan-an moving about, all contributed to the state of mind +that made her panic almost laughable to Mary-Clare.</p> +<p>Things had happened too suddenly for her; events had +become congested in an environment that was antagonistic +to change. A change had undoubtedly come but it must be +met bravely and faithfully.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></div> +<p>The sun was flooding the big living-room when Mary-Clare, +Noreen, and Jan-an sat down to the meal Jan-an had prepared. +There was a feeling of safety prevailing at last. And +then Jan-an, her elbows on the table, her face resting in her +cupped hands, remarked slowly as if repeating a lesson:</p> +<p>“He’s dead, Philander Sniff. Went terrible sudden after +taking all this time. I clean forgot––letters and doings. I +can’t think of more than one thing at a time.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare set her cup down sharply while Noreen with +one of those whimsical turns of hers drawled in a sing-song:</p> +<p>“Old Philander Sniff, he died just like a whiff–––”</p> +<p>“Noreen!” Mary-Clare stared at the child while Jan-an +chuckled in a rough, loose way as if her laugh were small +stones rattling in her throat.</p> +<p>“Well, Motherly, Philander was a cruel old man. Just +being dead don’t make him anything different but––dead.”</p> +<p>“Noreen, you must keep quiet. Jan-an, tell me about +it.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare’s voice commanded the situation. Jan-an’s +stony gurgle ceased and she began relating what she had +come to tell.</p> +<p>“I took his supper over to him, same as usual, and set it +down on the back steps, and when he opened the door I said, +like I allas done, ‘Peneluna says good-night,’ and he took in +the food and slammed the door, same as usual.”</p> +<p>“Old Philander Sniff–––” began Noreen’s chant as she +slipped from her chair intent upon a doll by the hearthside.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare took no notice of her but nodded to Jan-an.</p> +<p>“And then,” the girl went on, “I went in to Peneluna and +told her and then we et and went to bed. Long about midnight, +I guess, there was a yell!” Jan-an lost her breath and +paused, then rushed along: “He’d raised his winder and +after all the keeping still, he called for Peneluna to come.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare visualized the dramatic scene that poor Jan-an +was mumbling monotonously.</p> +<p>“And she went! I just lay there scared stiff hearing things +an’ seeing ’em! Come morning, in walked Peneluna looking +still and high and she didn’t say nothing till she’d gone and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +fetched those togs of hers, black ’uns, you know, that Aunt +Polly gave her long back. She put ’em on, bonnet and veil +an’ everything. Then she took an old red rose out of a box +and pinned it on the front of her bonnet––God! but she did +look skeery––and then said to me awful careful, ‘Trot on to +Mary-Clare, tell her to fotch the marriage service <i>and</i> the +funeral one, both!’ Jes’ like that she said it. Both!”</p> +<p>“This is very strange,” Mary-Clare said slowly and got up. +“I’m going to the Point, Jan-an, and you will take Noreen +to the inn, like a good girl. I’ll call for her in the afternoon.”</p> +<p>“Take both!” Jan-an was nodding her willingness to obey. +And Mary-Clare took her prayer-book with her.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare had the quiet Forest to herself apparently, for +on the way to the Point she met no one. On ahead she +traced, she believed, Larry’s footprints, but when she turned +on the trail to the Point, they were not there.</p> +<p>All along her way Mary-Clare went over in her thought the +story of Philander Sniff and Peneluna. It was the romance +and mystery of the sordid Point.</p> +<p>Years before, when Mary-Clare was a little child, Philander +had drifted, from no one knew where, to the mines and the +Point. He lived in one of the ramshackle huts; gave promise +of paying for it, did, in fact, pay a few dollars to old Doctor +Rivers, and then became a squatter. He was injured at the +mines and could do no more work and at that juncture Peneluna +had arrived upon the scene from the same unknown +quarter apparently whence Philander had hailed. She took +the empty cottage next Philander’s and paid for it by service +in Doctor Rivers’s home. She was clean, thrifty, and strangely +silent. When Philander first beheld her he was shaken, +for a moment, out of his glum silence. “God Almighty!” +he confided to Twombly who had worked in the mines with +him and had looked after him in his illness; “yer can’t shake +some women even when it’s for their good.”</p> +<p>That was all. Through the following years the two shacks +became the only clean and orderly ones on the Point. When +Philander hobbled from his quarters, Peneluna went in and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +scrubbed and scoured. After a time she cooked for the old +man and left the food on his back steps. He took it in, ate it, +and had the grace to wash the dishes before setting them +back.</p> +<p>“Some mightn’t,” poor Peneluna had said to Aunt Polly +in defence of Sniff.</p> +<p>As far as any one knew the crabbed old man never spoke +to his devoted neighbour, but she had never complained.</p> +<p>“I wonder what happened before they came here?” After +all the years of taking the strange condition for granted, +it sprang into quickened life. Mary-Clare was soon to +know and it had a bearing upon her own highly sensitive +state.</p> +<p>She made her way to the far end of the Point, passing wide-eyed +children at play and curious women in doorways.</p> +<p>“Philander’s dead!” The words were like an accompaniment, +passing from lip to lip. “An’ she won’t let a soul in.” +This was added.</p> +<p>“She will presently,” Mary-Clare reassured them. “She’ll +need you all, later.”</p> +<p>There was a little plot of grass between Peneluna’s shack +and Philander’s and a few scraggy autumn flowers edged a +well-worn path from one back door to the other!</p> +<p>At Philander’s front door Mary-Clare knocked and Peneluna +responded at once. She was dressed as Jan-an had +described, and for a moment Mary-Clare had difficulty in +stifling her inclination to laugh.</p> +<p>The gaunt old woman was in the rusty black she had kept +in readiness for years; she wore gloves and bonnet; the long +crêpe veil and the absurd red rose wobbled dejectedly as +Peneluna moved about.</p> +<p>“Come in, child, and shut the world out.” Then, leading +the way to an inner room, “Have yer got <i>both</i> services?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Peneluna.” Then Mary-Clare started back.</p> +<p>She was in the presence of the dead. He lay rigid and +carefully prepared for burial on the narrow bed. He looked +decent, at peace, and with that unearthly dignity that death +often offers as its first gift.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span></div> +<p>Peneluna drew two chairs close to the bed; waved Mary-Clare +majestically to one and took the other herself. She +was going to lay her secrets before the one she had chosen––after +that the shut-out world might have its turn.</p> +<p>“I’ve sent word over to the Post Office,” Peneluna began, +“and they’re going to get folks, the doctor and minister and +the rest. Before they get here––” Peneluna paused––“before +they get here I want that you should act for the old +doctor.”</p> +<p>This was the one thing needed to rouse Mary-Clare.</p> +<p>“I’ll do my best, Peneluna,” she whispered, and clutched +the prayer-book.</p> +<p>“The ole doctor, he knew ’bout Philander and me. He +said”––Peneluna caught her breath––“he said once as how +it was women like me that kept men believing. He said I +had a right to hold my tongue––he held his’n.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare nodded. Not even she could ever estimate the +secret load of confessions her beloved foster-father bore and +covered with his rare smile.</p> +<p>“Mary-Clare, I want yer should read the marriage service +over me and him!” Peneluna gravely nodded to her silent +dead. “I got this to say: If Philander ain’t too far on his +journey, I guess he’ll look back and understand and then he +can go on more cheerful-like and easy. Last night he hadn’t +more than time to say a few things, but they cleared everything, +and if I’m his wife, he can trust me––a wife wouldn’t +harm a dead husband when she <i>might</i> the man who jilted her.” +The words came through a hard, dry sob. Mary-Clare felt +her eyes fill with hot tears. She looked out through the one +open window and felt the warm autumn breeze against her +cheek; a bit of sunlight slanted across the room and lay +brightly on the quiet man upon the bed. “Read on, Mary-Clare, +and then I can speak out.”</p> +<p>Opening the book with stiff, cold fingers, Mary-Clare read +softly, brokenly, the solemn words.</p> +<p>At the close Peneluna stood up.</p> +<p>“Him and me, Mary-Clare,” she said, “’fore God and you +is husband and wife.” Then she removed the red rose from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +her bonnet, laid it upon the folded wrinkled hands of the +dead man and drew the sheet over him.</p> +<p>Just then, outside the window, a bird flew past, peeped in, +fluttered away, singing.</p> +<p>“Seems like it might be the soul of Philander,” Peneluna +said––she was crying as the old do, hardly realizing that they +are crying. Her tears fell unheeded and Mary-Clare was +crying with her, but conscious of every hurting tear.</p> +<p>“In honour bound, though it breaks the heart of me, I’m +going to speak, Mary-Clare, then his poor soul can rest in +peace.</p> +<p>“The Methodist parson, what comes teetering ’round just +so often, always thought Philander was hell-bound, Mary-Clare; +well, since there ain’t anyone but that parson as knows +so much about hell, to send for, I’ve sent for him and there’s +no knowing what he won’t feel called upon to say with Philander +lying helpless for a text. So now, after I tell you what +must be told, I want that you should read the burial service +over Philander and then that parson can do his worst––my +ears will be deaf to him and Philander can’t hear.”</p> +<p>There was a heavy pause while Mary-Clare waited.</p> +<p>“Hell don’t scare me nohow,” Peneluna went on; “seems +like the most interesting folks is headed for it and I’ll take +good company every time to what some church folks hands +out. And, too, hell can’t be half bad if you have them you +love with you. So the parson can do his worst. Philander +and me won’t mind now.</p> +<p>“Back of the time we came here”––Peneluna was picking +her words as a child does its blocks, carefully in order to form +the right word––“me and Philander was promised.”</p> +<p>Drifting about in Mary-Clare’s thought a scrap of old scandal +stirred, but it had little to feed on and passed.</p> +<p>“Then a woman got mixed up ’twixt him and me. In her +young days she’d been French and you know yer can’t get +away from what’s born in the blood, and the Frenchiness was +terrible onsettling. Philander was side-twisted. Yer see, +Mary-Clare, when a man ain’t had nothing but work and +working folks in his life, a creature that laughs and dances +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +and sings gets like whiskey in the head, and Philander didn’t +rightfully know what he was about.”</p> +<p>Peneluna drew the end of her crêpe veil up and wiped her +eyes.</p> +<p>“They went off together, him and the furriner. Least, the +furriner took him off, and the next thing I heard she’d taken +to her heels and Philander drifted here to the mines. I knew +he needed me more than ever––he was a dreadful creature +about doing for himself, not eating at Christian hours, just +waiting till he keeled over from emptiness, so I came logging +along after him and––stayed. He was considerable upset +when he saw me and he never got to, what you might say, +speaking to me, but he was near and he ate the food I left on +his steps and he washed the plates and cups and that meant +a lot to Philander. If I’d been his proper wife he wouldn’t +have washed ’em. Men don’t when they get used to a +woman.</p> +<p>“And then”––here Peneluna caught her breath––“then +last night he called from his winder and I came. He said, +holding my hand like it was the last thing left for him to hold: +‘I didn’t think I had a right to you, Pen’––he used to call me +Pen––‘after what I did. And I’ve just paid for my evil-doing +up to the end, not taking comfort and forgiveness––just +paying!’ I never let on, Mary-Clare, how I’d paid, too. +Men folks are blind-spotted, we’ve got to take ’em as they are. +Philander thought he had worked out his soul’s salvation +while he was starving me, soul and body, but I never let on +and he died smiling and saying, ‘The food was terrible staying, +Pen, terrible staying.’”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare could see mistily the long, rigid figure on the +bed, her eyes ached with unshed tears; her heart throbbed +like a heavy pain. Here was something she had never understood; +a thing so real and strong that no earthly touch could +kill it. What was it?</p> +<p>But Peneluna was talking on, her poor old face twitching.</p> +<p>“And now, Mary-Clare, him and me is man and wife before +God and you. You are terrible understanding, child. With +all the fol-de-rol the old doctor laid on yer, he laid his own +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +spirit of knowing things on yer, too. Suffering learns folks +the understanding power. I reckon the old doctor had had +his share ’fore he came to the Forest––but how you got to +knowing things, child, and being tender and patient, ’stead +of hot and full of hate, I don’t know! Now read, soft and low, +so only us three can hear––the last service.”</p> +<p>Solemnly, with sweet intonations, Mary-Clare read on and +on. Again the bird came to the window ledge, looked in, and +then flew off singing jubilantly. Peneluna smiled a fleeting +wintry smile and closed her eyes; she seemed to be following +the bird––or was it old Philander’s soul?</p> +<p>When the service came to an end, Peneluna arose and with +grave dignity walked from the room, Mary-Clare following.</p> +<p>“Now the Pointers can have their way ’cording to rule, +Mary-Clare,” she whispered, “but you and me understand, +child. And listen to this, I ain’t much of a muchness, but +come thick or thin, Mary-Clare, I’ll do my first and last for +you ’cause of the secret lying ’twixt us.”</p> +<p>Then Mary-Clare asked the question that was hurting her +with its weight.</p> +<p>“Peneluna, was it love, the thing that made you glad, +through it all, just to wait?”</p> +<p>“I don’t rightly know, Mary-Clare. It was something +too big for me to call by name, but I just couldn’t act different +and kill it, not even when her as once was French made me +feel I oughter. I wouldn’t darst harm that feeling I had, +child.”</p> +<p>“And it paid?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know. I only know I was glad, when he called +last night, that I was waiting.”</p> +<p>Then Mary-Clare raised her face and kissed the old, troubled, +fumbling lips. The thing, too big for the woman, was +too big for the girl; but she knew, whatever it was, it must +not be hurt.</p> +<p>“What are you going to do now?” she asked.</p> +<p>“God knows, Mary-Clare. The old doctor gave this place +to Philander, and he gave me mine, next door. I think, till +I get my leadings, I’ll hold to this and see what the Lord +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +wants me to do with my old shack. I allas find someone +waiting to share. Maybe Jan-an will grow to fit in there in +time. When she gets old and helpless she’ll need some place +to crawl to and call her own. I don’t know, but I’m a powerful +waiter and I’ll keep an eye and ear open.”</p> +<p>On the walk home Mary-Clare grew deeply thoughtful. +The recent scene took on enormous significance. Detached +from the pitiful setting, disassociated from the two forlorn +creatures who were the actors in the tragic story, there rose, +like a bright and living flame, a something that the girl’s +imagination caught and held.</p> +<p>That something was quite apart from laws and codes; +it came; could not be commanded. It was something that +marriage could not give, nor death kill. Something that +could exist on the Point. Something that couldn’t be got +out of one’s heart, once it had entered in. What was it? +It wasn’t duty or just living on. It was something too big +to name. Why was the wonder of it crowding all else out––after +the long years?</p> +<p>Mary-Clare left the Point behind her. She entered the +sweet autumn-tinted woods beyond which lay her home. +She hoped––oh! yearningly she hoped––that Larry would not +be there, not just yet. She would go for Noreen; she would +stay awhile with Aunt Polly and tell her about what had just +occurred––the service, but not the secret thing.</p> +<p>Suddenly she stood still and her face shone in the dim +woods. Just ahead and around a curve, she heard Noreen’s +voice. But was it Noreen’s?</p> +<p>Often, in her wondering moments, Mary-Clare had pictured +her little girl as she longed for her to be––a glad, unthinking +creature, such as Mary-Clare herself had once been, a singing, +laughing child. And now, just out of sight, Noreen was +singing.</p> +<p>There was a rich gurgle in the flute-like voice; it came +floating along.</p> +<p>“Oh! tell it again, please! I want to learn it for Motherly. +It is awfully funny––and make the funny face that goes with +it––the crinkly-up face.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>“All right. Here goes!</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“Up the airy mountain,</p> +<p>Down the rustly glen––</p> +</div></div> +<p>that’s the way, Noreen, scuffle your feet in the leaves––</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“We daren’t go a-hunting</p> +<p>For fear of little men.</p> +<p>Wee folk, good folk</p> +<p>Trooping all together,</p> +<p>Green jacket, red cap,</p> +<p>And white owl’s feather––</p> +</div></div> +<p>Here, you, Noreen, play fair; scuffle and keep step, you little +beggar!”</p> +<p>“But I may step on the wee men, the good men,” again +the rich chuckle.</p> +<p>“No, you won’t if you scuffle and then step high; they’ll slip +between your feet.”</p> +<p>Then came the tramp, tramp of the oncoming pair. Big +feet, little feet. Long strides and short hops.</p> +<p>So they came in view around the turn of the rough road––Northrup +with Noreen holding his hand and trying to keep +step to the swinging words of the old song.</p> +<p>And Northrup saw Mary-Clare, saw her with a slanting +sunbeam on her radiant face. The romance of Hunter’s +Point was in her soul, and the wonder of her child’s happiness. +She stood and smiled that strange, unforgettable smile of +hers; the smile that had its birth in unshed tears.</p> +<p>Northrup hurried toward her, taking in, as he came, her +loveliness that could not be detracted from by her mud-stained +and rough clothing. The feeling of knowing her was +in his mind; she seemed vividly familiar.</p> +<p>“Your little daughter got homesick, or mother-sick, Mrs. +Rivers”––Northrup took off his hat––“Aunt Polly gave +me the privilege of bringing her to you. We became friends +from the moment we met. We’ve been making great strides +all day.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></div> +<p>“Thank you, Mr.–––”</p> +<p>“Northrup.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Northrup. You have made Noreen +very happy––and she does not make friends easily.”</p> +<p>“But, Motherly,” Noreen was flushed and eager. “<i>He</i> isn’t +a friend. Jan-an told me all about him. He’s something +the wild-wind brought. You are, aren’t you, Mr. Sir?”</p> +<p>Northrup laughed.</p> +<p>“Well, something like that,” he admitted. “May I walk +along with you, Mrs. Rivers? Unless I go around the lake, +I must turn back.”</p> +<p>And so they walked on, Noreen darting here and there +quite unlike her staid little self, and they talked of many +things––neither could have told after just what they talked +about. The conversation was like a stream carrying them +along to a definite point ordained for them to reach, somewhere, +some time, on beyond.</p> +<p>“How on earth could she manage to be what she is?” +pondered Northrup. “She’s read and thought to some purpose.”</p> +<p>“What does he mean by being here?” pondered Mary-Clare. +“This isn’t just a happening.”</p> +<p>But they chatted pleasantly while they pondered.</p> +<p>When they came near to the yellow house, Noreen, who +was ahead, came running back. All the joyousness had fled +from her face. She looked heavy-eyed and dull.</p> +<p>“She’s tired,” murmured Mary-Clare, but she knew that +that was not what ailed Noreen.</p> +<p>And then she looked toward her house. Larry stood in the +doorway, smoking and smiling.</p> +<p>“Will you come and meet my husband?” she asked of +Northrup.</p> +<p>“I’ll put off the pleasure, if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Rivers. +I have learned that one cannot tamper with Aunt Polly’s +raised biscuits. It’s late, but may I call to-morrow?” +Northrup stood bareheaded while he spoke.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare nodded. She was mutely thankful when he +strode on ahead and toward the lake.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></div> +<p>It was while they were eating their evening meal that +Larry remarked casually:</p> +<p>“So that’s the Northrup fellow, is it?” Mary-Clare +flushed and had a sensation of being lassoed by an invisible +hand.</p> +<p>“Yes. He is staying at the inn––I sent Noreen there this +morning while I went over to the Point; he was bringing +her home.”</p> +<p>“He seemed to know that you weren’t home.”</p> +<p>“Children come in handy,” Larry smiled pleasantly. +“More potato, Mary-Clare?”</p> +<p>“No.” Then, almost defiantly: “Larry, Mr. Northrup +asked his way to the inn the day he was travelling through. +I have never spoken to him since, until to-day. When he +found the house empty this afternoon, he naturally–––”</p> +<p>“Why the explanation?” Larry looked blank and again +Mary-Clare flushed.</p> +<p>“I felt one was needed.”</p> +<p>“I can’t see why. By the way, Mary-Clare, those squatters +at the Point are going to get a rough deal. Either they’re +going to pay regular, or be kicked out. I tell you when +Tim Maclin sets his jaw, there is going to be something doing.”</p> +<p>This was unfortunate, but Larry was ill at ease.</p> +<p>“Maclin doesn’t own the Point, Larry.”</p> +<p>“You better listen to Maclin and not Peter Heathcote.” +Larry retraced his steps. His doubt of Northrup had led +him astray.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare gave him a startled look.</p> +<p>“Maclin’s a brute,” she said quietly. “I prefer to listen +to my friends.”</p> +<p>“Maclin’s our friend. Yours and mine. You’ll learn that +some day.”</p> +<p>“I doubt it, Larry, but he’s your employer and I do not +forget that.”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t. And you’re going to change your mind some +fine day, my girl, about a lot of things.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></div> +<p>“I’m sleeping outside, Mary-Clare.” Larry rose lazily. +“I just dropped in to––to call.” He laughed unpleasantly.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, Larry, that you feel as you do.”</p> +<p>“Like hell you are!” The words were barely audible. +“I’m going to give you a free hand, Mary-Clare, but I’m +going to let folks see your game. That’s square enough.”</p> +<p>“All right, Larry.” Mary-Clare’s eyes flickered. Then: +“Why did you take those letters?”</p> +<p>Larry looked blankly at her.</p> +<p>“I haven’t taken any letters. What you hoaxing up?” +He waited a moment but when Mary-Clare made no reply he +stalked from the house angrily and into the night.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII' id='CHAPTER_VII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> +<p>Maclin rarely discussed Larry’s private affairs with +him, but he controlled them, nevertheless, indirectly. +His hold on Larry was subtle and far-reaching. It +had its beginning in the old college days when the older man +discovered that the younger could be manipulated, by flattery +and cheap tricks, into abject servitude. Larry was not as +keen-witted as Maclin, but he had a superficial cleverness; a +lack of moral fibre and a certain talent that, properly controlled, +offered no end of possibility.</p> +<p>So Maclin affixed himself to young Rivers in the days before +the doctor’s death; he and Larry had often drifted apart +but came together again like steel responding to the same +magnet. While apparently intimate with Rivers, Maclin +never permitted him to pass a given line, and this restriction +often chafed Larry’s pride and egotism; still, he dared not +rebel, for there were things in his past that had best be forgotten, +or at least not referred to.</p> +<p>When Maclin had discovered the old, deserted mines and +bought them, apparently Larry was included in the sale. +Maclin sought to be friendly with Mary-Clare when he first +came to King’s Forest; but failing in that direction, he +shrugged his shoulders and made light of the matter. He +never pushed his advantage nor forgave a slight.</p> +<p>“Never force a woman,” he confided to Larry at that +juncture, “that is, if she is independent.”</p> +<p>“What you mean, independent?” Larry knew what he +meant very well; knew the full significance of it. He fretted +at it every time his desires clashed with Mary-Clare’s. If he, +not she, owned the yellow house; if she were obliged to take +what he chose to give her, how different their lives might have +been!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></div> +<p>Larry was thinking of all this as he made his way to the +mines after denying that he had taken the letters. Those +letters lay snugly hid under his shirt––he had a use for them. +He could feel them as he walked along; they seemed to be +feeding a fire that was slowly igniting.</p> +<p>Larry was going now to Maclin with all barriers removed. +His suspicious mind had accepted the coarsest interpretation +of Mary-Clare’s declaration of independence. Maclin’s hints +were, to him, established facts. There could be but one +possible explanation for her act after long, dull years of acceptance.</p> +<p>“Well,” Larry puffed and panted, “there is always a way +to get the upper hand of a woman and, I reckon, Maclin, +when he’s free to speak out, can catch a fool woman and a +sneaking man, who is on no fair business, unless I miss <i>my</i> +guess.” Larry grunted the words out and stumbled along. +“First and last,” he went on, “there’s just two ways to deal +with women. Break ’em or let them break themselves.”</p> +<p>Larry’s idea now was to let Mary-Clare break herself with +the Forest as audience. He wasn’t going to do anything. +No, not he! Living outside his home would set tongues +wagging. All right, let Mary-Clare stop their wagging.</p> +<p>There was always, with Larry, this feeling of hot impotence +when he retreated from Mary-Clare. For so vital and high-strung +a woman, Mary-Clare could at critical moments be +absolutely negative, to all appearances. Where another +might show weakness or violence, she seemed to close all the +windows and doors of her being, leaving her attacker in the +outer darkness with nothing to strike at; no ear to assail. +It was maddening to one of Larry’s type.</p> +<p>So had Mary-Clare just now done. After asking him about +the letters, she had withdrawn, but in the isolation where +Larry was left he could almost hear the terrific truths he +guiltily knew he deserved, hurled at him, but which his wife +did not utter. Well, two could play at her game.</p> +<p>And in this mood he reached Maclin; accepted a cigar and +stretched his feet toward the fire in his owner’s office.</p> +<p>Maclin was in a humanly soothing mood. He fairly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +crooned over Larry and could tell to a nicety the workings of +his mind.</p> +<p>He puffed and puffed at his enormous cigar; he was almost +hidden from sight in the smoke but his words oozed forth as +if they were cutting through a soft, thick substance.</p> +<p>“Now, Larry,” he said; “don’t make a mistake. Some +women don’t have weak spots, they have knots––weak ends +tied together, so to speak. The cold, calculating breed––and +your wife, no offence intended, is mighty chilly––can’t +be broken, as you intimate, but they can be untied and”––Maclin +was pleased with his picturesque figures of speech––“left +dangling.”</p> +<p>This was amusing. Both men guffawed.</p> +<p>“Do you know, Rivers”––Maclin suddenly relapsed into +seriousness––“it was a darned funny thing that a girl like your +wife should fall into your open mouth, marry you off-hand, +as one might say. Mighty funny, when you come to think +of it, that your old man should let her––knowing all he knew +and seeming to set such a store by the girl.”</p> +<p>Larry winced and felt the lash on his back. So long had +that lash hung unused that the stroke now made him cringe.</p> +<p>“No use harking back to that, Maclin,” he said: “some +things ain’t common property, you know, even between you +and me. We agreed to that.”</p> +<p>“Yes?” the word came softly. Was it apologetic or +threatening?</p> +<p>There was a pause. Then Maclin unbent.</p> +<p>“Larry,” he began, tossing his cigar aside, “you haven’t +ever given me full credit, my boy, for what I’ve tried to do for +you. See here, old man, I have got you out of more than one +fix, haven’t I?”</p> +<p>Larry looked back––the way was not a pleasant one.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he admitted, “yes, you have, Maclin.”</p> +<p>“I know you often get fussed, Rivers, about what you term +my <i>using</i> you in business, but I swear to you that in the end +you’ll think different about that. I’ve got to work under +cover myself to a certain extent. I’m not my own master. +But this I can say––I’m willing to be a part of a big thing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +When the public <i>is</i> taken into our confidence, we’ll all feel +repaid. Can you––do you catch on, Larry?”</p> +<p>“It’s like catching on to something in the dark,” Larry +muttered.</p> +<p>“Well, that’s something,” Maclin said cheerfully. “Something +to hold to in the dark isn’t to be sneered at.”</p> +<p>“Depends upon what it is!” Apparently Larry was in a +difficult mood. Maclin tried a new course.</p> +<p>“It’s one thing having a friend in the dark, old man, and +another having an enemy. I suppose that’s what you mean. +Well, have I been much of an enemy to you?”</p> +<p>“I just told you what I think about that.” Larry misinterpreted +Maclin’s manner and took advantage.</p> +<p>“Larry, I’m going to give you something to chew on because +I <i>am</i> your friend and because I want you to trust me, +even in the dark. The fellow Northrup–––”</p> +<p>Larry started as if an electric spark had touched him. +Maclin appeared not to notice.</p> +<p>“––is on our tracks, but he mustn’t suspect that we have +sensed it.” The words were ill-chosen. Having any one on +his tracks was a significant phrase that left an ugly fear in +Larry’s mind.</p> +<p>“What tracks?” he asked suspiciously.</p> +<p>“Our inventions.” Maclin showed no nervous dread. +“These inventions, big as they are, old man, are devilish +simple. That’s why we have to lie low. Any really keen +chap with the right slant could steal them from under our +noses. That’s why I like to get foreigners in here––these +Dutchies don’t smell around. Give them work to do, and +they do it and ask no questions; the others snoop. Now this +Northrup is here for a purpose.”</p> +<p>“You know that for a fact, Maclin?”</p> +<p>“Sure, I know it.” Maclin was a man who believed in +holding all the cards and discarding at his leisure; he always +played a slow game. “I know his kind, but I’m going to let +him hang himself. Now see here, Rivers, you better take me +into your confidence––I may be able to fix you up. What’s +wrong between you and your wife?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></div> +<p>This plunge sent Larry to the wall. When a slow man +does make a drive, he does deadly work.</p> +<p>“Well, then”––Larry looked sullen––“I’ve left the house +and mean to stay out until Mary-Clare comes to her +senses!”</p> +<p>“All right, old man. I rather smelled this out. I only +wanted to make sure. It’s this Northrup, eh? Now, Rivers, +I could send you off on a trip but it would be the same old +story. I hate to kick you when you’re down, but I will say +this, your wife doesn’t look like one mourning without hope +when you’re away, and with this Northrup chap on the spot, +needing entertainment while he works his game, I’m thinking +you better stay right where you are! You can, maybe, untie +the knot, old chap. Give her and this Northrup all the +chance they want, and if you leave ’em alone, I guess the +Forest will smoke ’em out.”</p> +<p>Maclin came nearer to being jubilant than Rivers had ever +seen him. The sight was heartening, but still something in +Larry tempered his enthusiasm. He had been able, in the +past, to exclude Mary-Clare from the inner sanctuary of +Maclin’s private ideals, and he hated now to betray her into +his clutches. Maclin was devilishly keen under that slow, +sluggish manner of his and he hastened, now, to say:</p> +<p>“Don’t get a wrong slant on me, old man. I’m only aiming +for the good of us all, not the undoing. I want to show +this fellow Northrup up to your wife as well as to others. +Then she’ll know her friends from her foes. Naturally a +woman feels flattered by attentions from a man like this +stranger, but if she sees how he’s taken the Heathcotes in and +how he’s used her while he was boring underground, she’ll +flare up and know the meaning of real friends. Some women +have to be <i>shown</i>!”</p> +<p>By this time Larry suspected that much had gone on during +his absence that Maclin had not confided to him. He was +thoroughly aroused.</p> +<p>“Now see here, Rivers!” Maclin drew his chair closer and +laid his hand on Larry’s arm––he gloated over the trouble in +the eyes holding his with dumb questioning. “It’s coming +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +out all right. We’re in early and we’ve got the best seats––only +keep them guessing; guessing! Larry, your wife goes––down +to the Point a lot––goes missionarying, you know. +Well, this Northrup is tramping around in the woods skirting +the Point.”</p> +<p>Just here Larry started and looked as if something definite +had come to him. Had he not seen Northrup that very day +in the woods?</p> +<p>“Now there’s an empty shack on the Point, Rivers––some +old squatter has died. I want you to get that shack somehow +or another. It ought to be easy, since they say your +wife owns the place; it’s your business to <i>get</i> it and then watch +out and keep your mouth shut. You’ve got to live somewhere +while you can’t live decent at home. ’Tisn’t likely +your wife, having slammed the door of her home on you, will +oust you from that hovel on the Point––your being there will +work both ways––she won’t dare to take a step.”</p> +<p>Larry drew a sigh, a heavy one, and began to understand. +He saw more than Maclin could see.</p> +<p>“She hasn’t turned me out,” he muttered. “I came out.”</p> +<p>“Let her explain that, Rivers. See? She can’t do it while +she’s gallivanting with this here Northrup.”</p> +<p>Larry saw the possibilities from Maclin’s standpoint, but +he saw Mary-Clare’s smile and that uplifted head. He was +overwhelmed again by the sense of impotence.</p> +<p>“Give a woman a free rein, Rivers, she’ll shy, sooner or +later.” Maclin was gaining assurance as he saw Larry’s discomfort. +“That’s what keeps women from getting on––they +shy! When all’s said, a tight rein is a woman’s best good, +but some women have to learn that.”</p> +<p>Something in Larry burned hot and resentful, but whether +it was because of Maclin or Mary-Clare he could not tell, so +he kept still.</p> +<p>“Let’s turn in, anyway, for to-night, old boy.” Maclin’s +voice sounded paternal. “To-morrow is to-morrow and +you’ll feel able to tackle the job after a night’s sleep.”</p> +<p>So they turned in and it was the afternoon of the next day +when Larry took his walk to the Point.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></div> +<p>Just as he started forth Maclin gave him two or three +suggestions.</p> +<p>“I’d offer to hire the shanty,” he said. “That will put you +in a safe position, no matter how they look at it. An old +woman by the name of Peneluna thinks she owns it. There’s +an old codger down there, too, Twombley they call him––he’s +smart as the devil, but you can’t tell which way he may leap. +Try him out. Get him to take sides with you if you can.”</p> +<p>“I remember Twombley,” Larry said. “Dad used to get +a lot of fun out of him in the old days. I haven’t been on the +Point since I was a boy.”</p> +<p>“It’s a good thing you never troubled the Point, Rivers. +They’ll be more stirred by you now.”</p> +<p>“Maybe they’ll kick me out.”</p> +<p>“Never fear!” Maclin reassured him. “Not if you show +good money and play up to your old dad. He had everyone +eating out of his hand, all right.”</p> +<p>So Larry, none too sure of himself, but more cheerful than +he had been, set forth.</p> +<p>Now there is one thing about the poor, wherever you find +them––they live out of doors when the weather permits. +Given sunshine and soft air, they promptly turn their backs +on the sordid dens they call home and take to the open. The +day that Larry went to the Point was warm and lovely, and +all the Pointers, or nearly all of them, were in evidence.</p> +<p>Jan-an was sweeping the steps of Peneluna’s doorway, +sweeping them viciously, sending the dust flying. She was +working off her state of mind produced by the recent funeral +of old Philander. She was spiritually inarticulate, but her +gropings were expressed in service to them she loved and in +violence to them she hated. As she swept she was cleaning +for Peneluna, and at the same time, sweeping to the winds of +heaven the memory of the dreadful minister who had said +such fearsome things about the dead who couldn’t talk back. +The man had made Mary-Clare cry as she sat holding Peneluna’s +hard, cold hand. Jan-an knew how hard and cold it +was, for she had held the other in decent sympathy.</p> +<p>Among the tin cans and ash heaps the children of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +Point were playing. One inspired girl had decked a mound +of wreckage and garbage with some glittering goldenrod and +was calling her mates to come and see the “heaven” she had +made.</p> +<p>Larry laughed at this and muttered: “Made it in hell, eh, +kid?”</p> +<p>The child scowled at him.</p> +<p>Twombley was sitting in his doorway watching what was +going on. He was a gaunt, sharp-eyed, sharp-nosed, and +sharp-tongued man. He was the laziest man on the Point, +but with all the earmarks of the cleverest.</p> +<p>“Well, Twombley, how are you?”</p> +<p>Twombley spat and took Larry out of the pigeonhole of his +memory––labelled and priced; Twombley had not thought +of him in years, as a definite individual. He was Mary-Clare’s +husband; a drifter; a tool of Maclin. As such he was +negligible.</p> +<p>“Feeling same as I look,” he said at last. He was ready +to appraise the man before him.</p> +<p>“Bad nut,” was what he thought, but diluted his sentiments +because of the relationship to the old doctor and Mary-Clare. +Twombley, like everyone else, had a shrine in his +memory––rather a musty, shabby one, to be sure, but it held +its own sacredly. Doctor Rivers and all that belonged to +him were safely niched there––even this son, the husband of +Mary-Clare about whom the Forest held its tongue because +he was the son of the old doctor.</p> +<p>“Old Sniff’s popped, I hear.” Larry, now that he chose to +be friendly, endeavoured to fit his language to his hearer’s +level. “Have a cigar, Twombley?”</p> +<p>“I’ll keep to my pipe.” The old man’s face was expressionless. +“If you don’t get a taste for what you can’t afford +you don’t ruin it for what you can. Yes, looks as if Sniff +was dead. They’ve buried him, at any rate.”</p> +<p>“Who’s got his place?”</p> +<p>“Peneluna Sniff.”</p> +<p>“Was he married?” Floating in Rivers’s mind was an old +story, but it floated too fast for him to catch it.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></div> +<p>“She went through the marriage service. That fixes it, +don’t it?” Twombley puffed loudly.</p> +<p>“I suppose it does, but I kind of recall that there was a +quarrel between them.”</p> +<p>“Ain’t that a proof that they was married?” Twombley’s +eyes twinkled through the slits of lids––he always squinted +his eyes close when he wanted to go slow. Larry laughed.</p> +<p>“Didn’t Peneluna Sniff, or whatever her name is, live in a +house by herself?” he asked. He was puzzled.</p> +<p>“She sure did. Your old man was a powerful understander +of human nater. A few feet ’twixt married folks, he uster +say, often saves the day.”</p> +<p>“Well, who’s got her house?”</p> +<p>“She’s got it.”</p> +<p>“Empty?”</p> +<p>“I guess the same truck’s in it that always was. I ain’t +seen any moving out.”</p> +<p>“Is Mrs. Sniff at home?”</p> +<p>“How do you suppose I know, young man? These ain’t +calling hours on the Point.”</p> +<p>“Well, they’re business hours, all right, Twombley. See +here, my friend, I’m going to hire that house of Mrs. Sniff if I +can.”</p> +<p>Twombley’s slits came close together.</p> +<p>“Yes?” was all he vouchsafed.</p> +<p>“Yes. And I wish you’d pass the word along, my friend.”</p> +<p>“I don’t pass nothing!” Twombley interrupted. “I take +all I kin git. I make use of what I can. The rest, I chuck.”</p> +<p>“Well, have it your own way, but I’m your friend, Twombley, +and the friend of your neighbours. I cannot say more +now––but you’ll all believe it some day.”</p> +<p>“Maclin standing back of yer, young feller?”</p> +<p>“Yes. And that’s where you’ve made another bad guess, +Twombley. Maclin’s your friend, only he isn’t free to speak +out just now.”</p> +<p>“Gosh! we ain’t eager for him to speak. The stiller he is +the better we like it.”</p> +<p>“He knows that. He’s given up––he is going to see what +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +I can make you feel––I’m one of you, you know that, Twombley.”</p> +<p>“Never would have guessed it, son!” Twombley leered.</p> +<p>“Well, my wife’s always been your friend––what’s the +difference? I’ve been on my job; she’s been on hers––it’s all +the same, only now I’m going to prove it!”</p> +<p>“Gosh! you’ll be a shock to Maclin all right.”</p> +<p>“No, I won’t, Twombley. You’re wrong about him. +He’s meant right, but not being one of us he’s bungled, he +knows it now. He’s listened to me at last.”</p> +<p>Larry could be a most important-appearing person when +there was no one to prick his little bubble. Twombley eyed +his visitor calmly.</p> +<p>“Funny thing, life is,” he ruminated, seeming to forget +Larry’s presence. “Yer get to thinking you’re running down +hill on a greased plank, and sudden––a nail catches yer +breeches and yer stop in time to see where yer was going!”</p> +<p>“What then, Twombley?”</p> +<p>“Oh! nothing. Only as long as yer breeches hold and the +nail don’t come out, yer keep on looking!”</p> +<p>Again Twombley spat. Then, seeing his guest rising, he +asked with great dignity:</p> +<p>“Going, young sir?”</p> +<p>“Yes, over to Mrs. Sniff’s. And if we are neighbours, +Twombley, let us be friends. My father had a liking for you, +I remember.”</p> +<p>“I’m not forgetting that, young sir.”</p> +<p>When Larry reached Mrs. Sniff’s, Jan-an was still riotously +sweeping the memories of the funeral away. She turned +and looked at Larry. Then, leaning on her broom, she continued +to stare.</p> +<p>“Well, what in all possessed got yer down here?” asked +the girl, her face stiffening.</p> +<p>“Where’s Mrs. Sniff?” Larry asked. He always resented +Jan-an, on general principles. She got in his way too often. +When she was out of sight he never thought of her, but her +vacant stare and monotonous drawl were offensive to him.</p> +<p>He had once suggested that she be confined somewhere. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +“You never can tell about her kind,” he had said; he had a +superstitious fear of her.</p> +<p>“What, shut the poor child from her freedom?” Aunt +Polly had asked him, “just because we cannot tell? Lordy! +Larry Rivers, there wouldn’t be many people running around +loose if we applied that rule to them.”</p> +<p>There were some turns that conversation took that sent +Larry into sudden silences––this had been one. He had +never referred to Jan-an’s treatment after that, but he always +resented her.</p> +<p>Jan-an continued to stare at him.</p> +<p>“There ain’t no Mrs. Sniff” she said finally. “What’s +ailin’ folks around here?”</p> +<p>“Well, where’s Miss Peneluna?” Larry ventured, thinking +back to the old title of his boyhood days.</p> +<p>“Setting!” Jan-an returned to her sweeping and Larry +stepped aside.</p> +<p>“I want to see her,” he said angrily. “Get out of the +way.”</p> +<p>“She ain’t no great sight, and I’m cleaning up!” Jan-an +scowled and her energy suggested that Larry might soon be +included among the things she was getting rid of.</p> +<p>“See here”––Larry’s eyes darkened––“if you don’t stand +aside–––”</p> +<p>But at this juncture Peneluna loomed in the doorway. +She regarded Larry with a tightening of the mouth muscles. +Inwardly she thought of him as a bad son of a good father, but +intuitions were not proofs and because Doctor Rivers had +been good, and Mary-Clare was always to be considered, the +old woman kept her feelings to herself.</p> +<p>She was still in her rusty black, the rakish bonnet set awry +on her head.</p> +<p>“Come in!” she said quietly. “And you, Jan-an, you +trundle over to my old place and clean up.”</p> +<p>Larry went inside and sat down in the chair nearest the +door. The neatness and order of the room struck even his +indifferent eyes, so unexpected was it on the Point.</p> +<p>“Well?” Peneluna looked at her visitor coolly. Larry did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +not speak at once––he was going to get the house next door; he +must have it and he did not want to make any mistakes with +the grim, silent woman near him. He was not considering +the truth, but he was selecting the best lies that occurred +to him; the ones most likely to appeal to his future landlady.</p> +<p>“Miss Peneluna,” he began finally, but the stiff lips interrupted +him:</p> +<p>“<i>Mrs. Sniff</i>.”</p> +<p>“Good Lord! Mrs. Sniff, then. You see, I didn’t know you +were married.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you? You might not know everything that goes +on. You don’t trouble us much. Your goings and comings +leave us strangers.”</p> +<p>Larry did not reply. He was manufacturing tears, and +presently, to Peneluna’s amazement, they glistened on his +cheeks.</p> +<p>“I wonder”––Larry’s voice trembled––“I wonder if I can +speak openly to you, Mrs.––Mrs. Sniff? You were in my +father’s house; he trusted you. I do not seem to have any +one but you at this crisis.”</p> +<p>Peneluna sneezed. She had a terrible habit of sneezing +at will––it was positively shocking.</p> +<p>“I guess there ain’t any reason for you not speaking out +your ideas to me,” she said cautiously. “I ain’t much of a +fount of wisdom, but I ain’t a babbling brook, neither.”</p> +<p>She was thinking that it would be safer to handle Rivers +than to let others use him, and she knew something of the +trouble at the yellow house. Jan-an had regaled her with +some rare tidbits.</p> +<p>“Peneluna, Mary-Clare and I have had some words; I’ve +left home.”</p> +<p>There was no answer to this. Larry moistened his lips +and went on:</p> +<p>“Perhaps Mary-Clare has told you?”</p> +<p>“No, she ain’t blabbed none.”</p> +<p>This was disconcerting.</p> +<p>“She wouldn’t, and I am not going to, either. It’s just a +misunderstanding, Mrs. Sniff. I could go away and let it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +rest there, but I fear I’ve been away too much and things +have got snarled. Mary-Clare doesn’t rightly see things.”</p> +<p>“Yes she does, Larry Rivers! She’s terrible seeing.” +Peneluna’s eyes flashed.</p> +<p>“All right then, Mrs. Sniff. <i>I want her to see!</i> I want her +to see me here, looking after her interests. I cannot explain; +you’ll all know soon enough. Danger’s threatening and I’m +going to be on the spot! You’ve all got a wrong line on Maclin, +so he’s side-stepped and listened to me at last; I’m going +to show up this man Northrup who is hanging round. I want +to hire your house, Mrs. Sniff, and live on here until–––”</p> +<p>Peneluna sneezed lustily; it made Larry wince.</p> +<p>“Until Mary-Clare turns you out?” she asked harshly. +“And gets talked about for doing it––or lets you stay on reflecting +upon her what can’t tell her side? Larry Rivers, you +always was a thorn in your good father’s side and I reckon +you’ve been one in Mary-Clare’s.”</p> +<p>Larry winced again and recalled sharply the old vacations +and this woman’s silent attitude toward him. It all came +back clearly. He could always cajole Aunt Polly Heathcote, +but Peneluna had explained her attitude toward him in the +past by briefly stating that she “internally and eternally +hated boys.”</p> +<p>“You’re hard on me, Mrs. Sniff. You’ll be sorry some +day.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll be sorry!” Peneluna sneezed.</p> +<p>Presently her mood, however, changed. She regarded +Larry with new interest.</p> +<p>“How much will you give me for my place?” Peneluna +leaned forward suddenly and quite took Larry off his guard. +He had succeeded so unexpectedly that it had the effect of +shock.</p> +<p>“Five dollars a month, Mrs. Sniff.”</p> +<p>“I’m wanting ten.”</p> +<p>This was a staggering demand.</p> +<p>“How bad does he want it?” Peneluna was thinking.</p> +<p>“How far had I best give in?” Larry estimated.</p> +<p>“Make it seven,” he ventured.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></div> +<p>“Seven and then three dollars a week more if I cook and +serve for you.”</p> +<p>Larry had overlooked this very important item.</p> +<p>“All right!” he agreed. “When can I come?”</p> +<p>“Right off.” Peneluna felt that she must get him under +her eye as soon as possible. She moved to the door.</p> +<p>“You’ll make it straight with Mary-Clare?”</p> +<p>Larry was following the rigid form out into the gathering +dark––a storm was rising; the bell on the distant island was +ringing gleefully like a wicked little imp set free.</p> +<p>“I’ll tell her that you’re here and that she best let you +stay on, if that’s what you mean.” Peneluna led the way +over the well-worn path she had often trod before. “And, +Larry Rivers, I don’t rightly know as I’m doing fair and +square, but look at it as you will, it’s better me than another +if anything is wrong. I served yer good father and I set a +store by yer wife and child––and I want to hang hold of you +all. I’ve let you have yer way down here, but I don’t want +any ructions and I ain’t going to have Maclin’s crowd hinting +and defiling anybody.”</p> +<p>“I’ll never forget this, Mrs. Sniff.” In the gathering +gloom, behind Peneluna’s striding form, Larry’s voice almost +broke again and undoubtedly the tears were on his cheeks. +“Some day, when you know all, you’ll understand.”</p> +<p>“I’m a good setter and waiter, Larry Rivers, and as to +understanding, that is as it may be. I can only see just so +far! I can’t turn my back on the old doctor’s son nor Mary-Clare’s +husband but I don’t want any tricks. You better not +forget that! There’s a bed in yonder.” The two had +entered the house next door. Jan-an had done good work. +The place was in order and a fire burned in the stove. “I’ll +fetch food later.” With this Peneluna, followed by Jan-an, +a trifle more vague than usual, left the house.</p> +<p>The rain was already falling and the wind rising––it was +the haunted wind; the bell sounded in the distance sharply. +Jan-an paused in the gathering darkness and spoke tremblingly:</p> +<p>“What’s a-going on?” she asked. Peneluna turned and laid +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +her hand on the girl’s shoulder; her face softened––but Jan-an +could not see that.</p> +<p>“Child”––the old voice fell to a whisper––“I ain’t going to +expect too much of yer––God Almighty made yer out of a +skimpy pattern, I know, but what He did give yer can be +helped along by using it for them yer love. Child, watch +there!”</p> +<p>A long crooked forefinger pointed to the shack, the windows +of which were already darkened––for Larry had drawn the +shades!</p> +<p>“Watch early and late there! Keep your mouth shut, +except to me. Jan-an, I can trust yer?”</p> +<p>The girl was growing nervous.</p> +<p>“Yes’m,” she blurted suddenly and then fell to weeping. +“I keep feelin’ things like wings a-touching of me,” she +muttered. “I hate the feelin’. When nothing ain’t happened +ever, what’s the reason it has ter begin now?”</p> +<p>It was nearly midnight when Peneluna sat down by her +fireside to think. She had cooked a meal for Larry and +carried it to him; she had soothed and fed Jan-an and put +her to bed on a cot near the bed upon which old Philander +Sniff had once rested, and now Peneluna, with Sniff’s old Bible +on her knees, felt safe to think and read, and it seemed as if +the wings Jan-an had sensed were touching her! The book +was marked at passages that had appealed to the old man. +Often, after Mary-Clare had read to him and left, thinking +that she had made no impression, the trembling, gnarled hand +had pencilled the words to be reread in lonely moments.</p> +<p>Peneluna had never read the Bible from choice; indeed, +her education had been so limited as to be negligible, but +lately these pencilled marks had become tremendously +significant to her. She was able, somehow, to follow Philander +Sniff closely, catching sight of him, now and again, in an +illumined way guided by the Bible verses. It was like the +blind leading the blind, to be sure, and often it seemed a blind +trail, but occasionally Peneluna could pause and take a long +breath while she beheld the vision that must have helped her +friend upon his isolated way.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></div> +<p>To-night, however, she was tired and puzzled and worried. +She kept reverting to Larry: her eyes only lighted on the +printed words before her; her thoughts drifted.</p> +<p>What had been going on in the Forest? Why was the +storm breaking?</p> +<p>But suddenly a verse more heavily marked than the others +stayed her:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>And a highway shall be there, and a way and it shall be called the +way of holiness. The wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err +therein.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Over and over Peneluna read and pondered; more and more +she puzzled.</p> +<p>“Land o’ love!” she muttered at last. “Now these here +words mean something particular. Seems like they must +get into me with their meaning if I hold to ’em long enough. +Lord! I don’t see how folks can enjoy religion when you +have to swallow it without tasting it.”</p> +<p>But so powerful is suggestion through words, that presently +the old woman became hypnotized by them. They +sprang out at her like flashes––one by one. “Highway”––she +could grasp that. “A way and it shall be called”––these +words ran into each other but––the “way” held. “The +wayfarer”––well! that was easy; all folks taking to the highway +were wayfarers––“though fools shall not err therein.”</p> +<p>Peneluna, without realizing it, was on The Highway over +which all pass, living, seeing, feeling, and storing up experience. +In old Philander’s quiet memory-haunted room she +was pausing and looking back; groping forward––understanding +as she had never understood before!</p> +<p>At times, catching the meaning of what the present held, +her old face quivered as a child’s does that is lost, and she +would <i>think back</i>, holding to some word or look that gave her +courage again to fix her eyes ahead.</p> +<p>“So! so!” she would nod and mutter. “So! so!” It was +like meeting others on The Highway, greeting them, and then +going on alone!</p> +<p>That was the hurt of it all––she was alone. If only there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +had been someone to hold her hand, to help her when she +stumbled, but no! she was like a creature in a land of shadowy +ghosts. Ghosts whom she knew; who knew her, but they +could not linger long with her.</p> +<p>More than the others, Philander persisted, but perhaps +that was because of the pencilled words. They were guide-posts +he had left for her. And strangest of all, this passing +to and fro on The Highway seemed to concern Larry Rivers +most of all. Larry, who, during all the years, had meant +nothing more to King’s Forest than that he was the old +doctor’s son, Mary-Clare’s husband, and Maclin’s secret +employee.</p> +<p>Larry, asleep in the shack next door, had taken on new +proportions. He meant, for the first time, to Peneluna, a +person to whom she owed something by virtue of knowledge. +Knowledge! What really did she know? How did she +know it? She did not question––she accepted and became +responsible in a deep and grateful manner. She must remember +about Larry. Remember all she could––it would help +her now.</p> +<p>The trouble, Peneluna knew, began with Larry’s mother. +Larry’s mother had wrecked the old doctor’s life; had driven +him to King’s Forest. No one had ever told Peneluna this––but +she knew it. It did not matter what that woman had +done, she had hurt a man cruelly. Once the old doctor had +said to Peneluna––it came sharply back, now, like a call from +a wayfarer:</p> +<p>“Miss Pen, it is because of such women as you and Aunt +Polly that men <i>can</i> keep their faith.”</p> +<p>That was when Larry was desperately ill and Polly Heathcote +and Peneluna were nursing him––he was a little boy then, +home on a vacation. It was because of the woman that +neither of them had ever known that they tried to mother +the boy––but Larry was difficult, he had queer streaks. +Again Peneluna looked back, back to some of the difficult +streaks.</p> +<p>Once Larry had stolen! He had gone, too, when quite a +child, to the tavern! He had tasted the liquor, made the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +men laugh! The old doctor had been in a sad state at that +time and Larry had been sent to school.</p> +<p>After that, well, Peneluna could not recall Larry distinctly +for many years. She knew the old doctor clung to him +passionately; went occasionally to see him, came back +troubled; came back looking older each time and depending +more upon Mary-Clare, whose love and devotion could +smooth the sadness from his face.</p> +<p>Then that night, the marriage night of Mary-Clare! Peneluna +had been near the old doctor when Larry bent to catch +the distorted words that were but whispered. She knew, +she seemed always to have known, that Larry had lied; he +had <i>not</i> understood anything.</p> +<p>Peneluna had tried to interfere, but she was always fumbling; +she could patiently wait, but action, with her, was +slow.</p> +<p>And then Maclin! Since Maclin came and bought the +mines <i>and</i> Larry––oh! what did it all mean? Had things +been slumbering, needing only a touch?</p> +<p>And who was this man at the inn? Was he the Touch? +What was going to happen in this dull, sluggish life of King’s +Forest?</p> +<p>The night was growing old, old! Peneluna, too, was old +and tired. The Highway was fraught with terrors for her; +the ghosts frightened her. They were trying to make her +understand what she must <i>do</i>, now that they had shown her +The Way. She must keep the old doctor’s son from Maclin +if she could and from the stranger at the inn, if she had need. +If trouble came she must defend her own.</p> +<p>The weary woman nodded; her eyes closed; the Book +slipped from her lap and lay like a “light unto her feet.” +She had, somehow, got an understanding of Larry Rivers: +she believed that through his “difficult streaks” Maclin had +got a hold upon him; was using him now for evil ends. It +was for her, for all who loved the old doctor, to shield, at any +cost, the doctor’s son. That Larry was unworthy did not +weigh with Peneluna. Where she gave, she gave with abandon.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII' id='CHAPTER_VIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> +<p>Aunt Polly came into the living-room of the inn +noiselessly, but Peter, at the fireside, opened his +eyes. Nothing could have driven him to bed earlier, +but he appeared to have been sleeping for hours.</p> +<p>Polly’s glasses adorned the top of her head. This was +significant. When she had arrived at any definite conclusion +she pushed her spectacles away as though her physical +vision and her spiritual were one and the same.</p> +<p>“Time, Polly?” Peter yawned.</p> +<p>“Going on to ’leven.”</p> +<p>“He come in?”</p> +<p>Full well Peter knew that he had not!</p> +<p>“No, Peter, and his evening meal is drying up in the oven––I +had creamed oysters, too. Creamed oysters are his +specials.”</p> +<p>“Scandalous, your goings on with this young man!” +Peter sat up and stretched. Then he smiled at his sister.</p> +<p>“Well, Peter, all my life I’ve had to take snatches and +scraps out of other folks’ lives when I could get them; and +I declare I’ve managed to patch together a real Lady’s Delight-pattern +sort of quilt to huddle under when I’m cold +and tired.”</p> +<p>“Tired now, Polly?”</p> +<p>“Not exactly tired, brother, but sort of rigid. Feel as +if I was braced for something. I’ve often had that feeling.”</p> +<p>“Women! women!” muttered Peter, and threw on another +log.</p> +<p>“What you suppose has happened to keep our young feller +from the––the oysters, eh?”</p> +<p>“I’m not accounting for folks or things these days, Peter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +I’m just keeping my eyes and ears open. Jan-an makes me +uneasy!” This came like a mild explosion.</p> +<p>“What’s she up to?” Peter sniffed.</p> +<p>“Land! the poor soul is like the barometer you set such +store by. Everything looking clear and peaceful and then +suddenlike up she gets, as she did an hour ago, and grabs her +truck and sets out for Mary-Clare’s like she was summoned. +Just saying she had to! These are queer times, brother. +I ain’t easy in my mind.”</p> +<p>“If Jan-an doesn’t calm down,” Peter muttered, “she +may have to be put somewhere, as Larry Rivers once suggested. +Larry hasn’t many earmarks of his pa––but he +may have a sense about human ailments.”</p> +<p>“Think shame of yourself, Peter Heathcote, to let anything +Larry Rivers says disturb your natural good feelings. +Where could we send Jan-an if we wanted to?” Peter declined +to reply and Aunt Polly went on: “Larry isn’t living +with Mary-Clare, Peter!” she added. This was a more +significant explosion. Peter turned and his hair seemed to +spring an inch higher around his red, puffy face.</p> +<p>“Where is he living?” he asked. When deeply stirred, +Peter went slow and warily.</p> +<p>“He’s hired Peneluna’s old shack.”</p> +<p>Peter digested this; but found it chaff.</p> +<p>“You got this from Jan-an?”</p> +<p>“I got it from her and from Peneluna. Peter, Peneluna +looks and acts like one of them queer sort of ancient bodies +what used to sit on altars or something, and make remarks +that no one was expected to differ from. She just dropped +in this morning and said that Larry Rivers had taken her +shack; was paying for it, too.”</p> +<p>“Has, or is going to?” Peter was giving himself time to +think.</p> +<p>“Has!” Aunt Polly was pulling her cushions into the +cavities of her tired little body.</p> +<p>“Damn funny!” muttered Peter and added another log. +The heat was growing ferocious. Then, as he eyed his sister: +“Better turn in, Polly. You look scrunched.” To look +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +“scrunched” was to look desperately exhausted. “No use +wearing yourself out for––for folks,” he added with a tenderness +in his voice that always brought a peculiar smile to +Polly’s eyes.</p> +<p>“I don’t see as there is anything else much, brother, to +wear one’s self out for.”</p> +<p>“Why frazzle yourself for anything?”</p> +<p>“Why shouldn’t I? What should I be keeping myself for, +Peter? Surely not for my own satisfaction. No. I always +hold if folks want me, then I’m particularly pleased to be had. +As to frazzling, seems like we only frazzle just <i>so</i> far, then a +stitch holds and we get our breath.”</p> +<p>In this mood Polly worried Peter deeply. He could not +keep from looking ahead––he avoided that usually––to a +time when the little nest at the far end of the sofa would be +empty; when the click of knitting needles would sound no +more in the beautiful old room.</p> +<p>“There’s me!” he whispered at length like a half-ashamed +but frightened boy.</p> +<p>Polly drew her glasses down and gave him a long, straight +look full of a deep and abiding love.</p> +<p>“You’re the stitch, Peter my man,” she whispered back as +if fearing someone might hear, “always the saving stitch. +And take this to bed with you, brother: the frazzling isn’t +half so dangerous as dry rot, or moth eating holes in you. +Queer, but I was getting to think of myself as laid on the +shelf before Brace drifted in, and when I do that I get old-acting +and stiff-jointed. But I’ve noticed that it’s the same +with folks as it is with the world, when they begin to flatten +down, then the good Lord drops something into them to +make ’em sorter rise. No need to flatten down until you’re +dead. Feeling tired is healthy and proper––not feeling at +all is being finished. So now, Peter, you just go along to +bed. I always have felt that a man hates to be set up for, +but he can overlook a woman doing it; he sets it down to her +general foolishness, but Brace would just naturally get edgy +if he found us both up.”</p> +<p>Peter came clumsily across the room and stood over the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +small creature on the sofa. He wanted to kiss her. Instead, +he said gruffly:</p> +<p>“See that the fire’s banked, Polly. Looks as if I’d laid +on a powerful lot of wood without thinking.” Then he +laughed and went on: “You’re durned comical, Polly. What +you said about the Lord putting yeast into folks and the +world <i>is</i> comical.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t say yeast, Peter Heathcote.”</p> +<p>“Well, yer meant yeast.”</p> +<p>“No, I didn’t mean yeast. I just meant something like +Brace was talking about to-day.”</p> +<p>“What was it?” Peter stood round and solid with the firelight +ruddily upon him.</p> +<p>“He said that the fighting overseas ain’t properly a war, +but a general upheaval of things that have got to come to the +top and be skimmed off. We ain’t ever looked at it that +way.” Polly resorted to familiar similes when deeply affected.</p> +<p>“I guess all wars is that.” Peter looked serious. He +rarely spoke of the trouble that seemed far, far from his +quiet, detached life, but lately he had shaken his head over +it in a new way. “But God ain’t meaning for us to take +sides, Polly. It’s like family troubles. You don’t understand +them, and you better keep out. Just think of our good +German friends and neighbours. We can’t go back on them +just ’cause their kin across the seas have taken to fighting. +Our Germans have, so to speak, married in our family, and we +must stand by ’em.” Peter was voicing his unrest. Polly +saw the trouble in his face.</p> +<p>“Of course, brother, and I only meant that lately so many +things are stirring in the Forest that it seems more like the +Forest wasn’t a scrap set off by itself. I seem to have lots of +scraps floating in my mind lately––things I’ve heard, and all +are taking on meaning now. I remember someone saying, +I guess it was the Bishop, that in a drop of ocean water, there +was all that went into the ocean’s making, except size. That +didn’t mean anything until Brace set me to––to turning +over in my mind, and, Peter, it seems terrible sensible now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +All the big, big world is just little scraps of King’s Forests +welded all together and every King’s Forest is a drop of the +world.”</p> +<p>Peter looked gravely troubled as men often do when their +women take to thinking on their own lines. Usually the +heedless man dismisses the matter with but small respect, +but Peter was not that kind. All his life he had depended +upon his sister’s “vision” as he called it. He might laugh +and tease her, but he never took a definite step without +reaching out to her.</p> +<p>“A man must plant his foot solid on the path he knows,” +he often said, “but that don’t hinder him from lifting his +eyes to the sky.” And it was through Aunt Polly’s eyes that +Peter caught his view of skies.</p> +<p>“I don’t exactly like Brace digging down into things so +much.” Peter gave a troubled sigh. “Some things ain’t any +use when they are dug up.”</p> +<p>“But some things <i>are</i>, brother. We must know.”</p> +<p>“Well, by gosh!” Peter began to sway toward the door like +a heavily freighted side-wheeler. “I get to feeling sometimes +as if I’d kicked over a hornet’s nest and wasn’t certain +whether it was a last year’s one or this year’s. In one case +you can hold your ground, in the other you best take to your +heels. Well, I’m going to leave you, Polly, for your date +with your young man. Don’t forget the fire and don’t set +up too long.”</p> +<p>Left to herself, Polly neatly folded her knitting and stuck +the glistening needles through it. She folded her small, +shrivelled hands and a radiant smile touched her old face.</p> +<p>Oh! the luxury of <i>daring</i> to sit up for a man. The excitement +of the adventure! And while she waited and brooded, +Polly was thinking as she had never done until recently. All +her life she believed that she had thought, and to suddenly +find, as she had lately, that her conclusions were either wrong +or confused made her humble.</p> +<p>Now there was Mary-Clare! Why, from her birth, Mary-Clare +had been an open book! Poor Polly shook her head. +An open book? Well, if so she did not know the language +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +in which that book was written, for Mary-Clare was troubling +her now deeply.</p> +<p>And Larry? Larry had suddenly come into focus, and +Maclin, and Northrup. They all seemed reeling around her; +all united, but in deadly peril of being flung apart.</p> +<p>It was all too much for Aunt Polly and she unrolled her +knitting and set the needles to their accustomed task. Eventually +Mary-Clare would come to the inn and simply tell +her story––full well Polly knew that. It was Mary-Clare’s +way to keep silent until necessity for silence was past and then +calmly take those she loved into her confidence. But there +were disturbing things going on. Aunt Polly could not blind +herself to them.</p> +<p>At this moment Northrup’s step sounded outside. He +came hastily, but making little noise.</p> +<p>“What’s up?” he asked, starting back at the sight of Aunt +Polly.</p> +<p>“Just me, son. Your dinner is scorched to nothing, but +I wanted to tell you where the cookie jar is.”</p> +<p>Northrup came over to the sofa and sat down.</p> +<p>“You deep and opaque female,” he said, throwing his arm +over the little bent shoulders. “Own up. It isn’t cookies, +it’s a switch. What have I done? Out with it.”</p> +<p>Aunt Polly laughed softly.</p> +<p>“It’s neither cookies nor switches when you come down to +it,” she chuckled. “It’s just waiting and not knowing +why.”</p> +<p>Northrup leaned back against the sofa and said quietly:</p> +<p>“Guessing about me, Aunt Polly?”</p> +<p>“Guessing about everything, son. Just when I thought I +was nearing port, where I ought to be at my age, I find myself +all at sea.”</p> +<p>“Same with me, Aunt Polly. We’re part of the whole +upheaval, and take it from me, some of us are going to find +ourselves high and dry by and by and some of us will go under. +We don’t understand it; we can’t; but we’ve got to try to––and +that’s the very devil. Aunt Polly, I’ve been on the +Point, talking to some of the folks down there––there is a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +fellow called Twombley, odd cuss. He told me he’s tried to +earn his living, but found people too particular.”</p> +<p>“Earn his living, huh!” Polly tried to look indignant. +“He’s a scamp, and old Doctor Rivers was the ruination of +him. The old doctor used to quote Scripture in a scandalous +way. He said since we have the poor always with us, it is +up to us to have a place for them where they can be comfortable. +Terrible doctrine, I say, but that was what the old +doctor kept the Point for and it was after Twombley tried +to earn his living––the scamp!” Northrup saw that he +had diverted Aunt Polly and gladly let her talk on.</p> +<p>“Doctor had an old horse as was just pleading to be put an +end to, but the doctor couldn’t make his mind up to it and +Twombley finally undertook to settle the matter with a shot-gun, +up back in the hills. Twombley never missed the bull’s-eye––a +terrible hand with a gun he was. The doctor gave +him two dollars for the job and looked real sick the day he +heard that shot. Well, less than a week after Twombley +came to the doctor and says as how he heard that a horse +has to be buried and that if it isn’t the owner gets fined +twenty-five dollars, and he says he’ll bury the carcass for five +dollars. He explained how the horse, lying flat, was powerful +sizable, and it would be a stern job to get it under ground. +Well, old doctor gave the five dollars and Twombley took +to the woods.</p> +<p>“It was a matter of a month, maybe, when Twombley came +back, and soon after old Philander Sniff appeared with a horse +and cart, and Doctor Rivers, as soon as he set his eyes on the +horse, sent for Twombley. Do you know, son, that scamp +actually figured it out with the doctor as to the cost of food +and care he’d been put to in order to get that shot-and-buried-horse +into shape for selling! He’d sold him for ten +dollars and expenses were twelve.”</p> +<p>Northrup leaned back and laughed until the quiet house +reëchoed with his mirth.</p> +<p>“Son, son!” cautioned Polly, shaking and dim-eyed, +“it’s going on to midnight. We can’t carouse like this. But +land! it is uplifting to have a talk when you ought to be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +sleeping. Well, the old doctor bought the Point just then +and bought Twombley a new gun. Folks as couldn’t earn +their keep proper naturally drifted to the Point––God’s +living acre, as the doctor called it.”</p> +<p>Northrup rose and stretched his arms and then bent, as +Peter had done, to Aunt Polly. But unlike Peter he kissed +the small yearning face upraised to his.</p> +<p>“It must be pleasant––being your mother,” Polly whispered.</p> +<p>“It’s pleasant having you acting as substitute,” Northrup +replied. “Shall I bank the fire, Aunt Polly?”</p> +<p>“No, son, there’s something else I must see to before I +turn in. Aren’t you going for the cookies?”</p> +<p>“Yes’m. Going to munch them in bed.” And tiptoeing +away in the most orthodox manner Northrup left Aunt +Polly alone.</p> +<p>Why was she staying up? She had no clear idea but she +was restless, sleepless, and bed, to her, was no comfort +under such conditions. However, since she had stated that +she had something to do, she must find it. She went to a desk +in the farther end of the room, and took from it her house-keeping +book. She would balance that and surprise Peter! +Peter always <i>was</i> so surprised when she did. She bought +the book to her nest on the sofa and set to work.</p> +<p>Debit and credit. Figures, figures, figures. And then, +mistily, words took their places. Names.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare: Larry.</p> +<p>Larry: Northrup.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare! It was funny. The columns danced and +giddily wobbled––and at the foot there was only––Mary-Clare! +Mary-Clare was troubling the dear old soul.</p> +<p>Then, startled by the falling of the book to the floor, Aunt +Polly opened her eyes and gazed into the face of Mary-Clare +standing before her!</p> +<p>The girl had a wind-swept look, physically and spiritually. +Her hair was loose about her face, her eyes like stars, and she +was smiling.</p> +<p>“Oh! you dear thing,” she whispered, bending to recover +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +the book, “adding and subtracting when the whole world +sleeps. Isn’t it a wonderful feeling to have the night to +yourself?”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare crouched down before the red blazing logs; +her coat and hat fell from her and she stretched her hands +out to the heat with a little shiver of luxurious content.</p> +<p>Aunt Polly knew the girl’s mood and left her to herself. +She had come to tell something but must tell it in her own +way. To question, to intrude a thought, would only tend +to confuse and distract her, so Polly took up her knitting +and nodded cheerfully. She had a feeling that all along she +had been waiting for Mary-Clare.</p> +<p>“I suppose big things like being born and dying are very +simple when they come. It is the mistaking the big and little +things that makes us all so uncertain. Aunt Polly, Larry +has left me.” The start had been made!</p> +<p>“Yes; Peneluna told us. He hasn’t gone far.” Aunt +Polly knitted on while Mary-Clare gave a little laugh.</p> +<p>“Oh! dearie, he was far, far away before he started for the +Point. Land doesn’t count––it’s more than that, only I did +not know. Isn’t it queer, Aunt Polly, now that I understand +things, I find that marrying Larry and having the babies +haven’t touched me at all––I never belonged to them or they +to me––except Noreen. And it’s queer about Noreen, too, +she will never seem part of all that.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare, her eyes fixed on the fire, was thinking aloud; +her breath came short and quick as if she had been running.</p> +<p>“My dear child!” Aunt Polly was shocked in spite of herself. +“No woman can shake off her responsibilities in that +way. Larry is your husband and you have been a mother.”</p> +<p>“You are talking <i>words</i>, Aunt Polly, not things.” Aunt +Polly knew that she <i>was</i> and it made her wince.</p> +<p>“That’s the trouble with us all, Aunt Polly. Saying words +over and over and calling them things––as if you could take +God in!”</p> +<p>There was no bitterness in the tones, but there was the +weary impatience of a child that had been too often denied +the truth.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></div> +<p>“No matter what people say and say, underneath there is +<i>truth</i>, Aunt Polly, and it’s up to us to find it.”</p> +<p>“And you think you are competent”––Aunt Polly, reflecting +that she was using <i>words</i>, used them doubtfully––“you +think you are competent to know what <i>is</i> truth and to act +upon it––to the extent of sending your husband out of his +home?”</p> +<p>If a small love-bird could look and sound fierce it would +resemble Aunt Polly at that moment. Mary-Clare turned +from the contemplation of the fire and fixed her deep eyes +upon the troubled old face.</p> +<p>“You dear!” she whispered and then laughed.</p> +<p>Presently, the fire again holding her, Mary-Clare went on:</p> +<p>“I think I must try to find truth with my woman-brain, +Aunt Polly. That was what my doctor-daddy always insisted +upon. He wouldn’t even let me take <i>his</i> word when +it came to anything that meant a lot to me.”</p> +<p>“He wanted you to marry Larry!”</p> +<p>This was a telling stroke and a long silence followed. +Then:</p> +<p>“I wonder, Aunt Polly, I wonder.”</p> +<p>“Do you doubt, child?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know, but even if he did he was sick and so––so +tired, and Larry always worried him. I know very surely +that if my doctor were here, and knew everything, he’d say +harder than ever: ‘Use your woman-mind.’ And I’m going +to! Why, Aunt Polly, I haven’t driven Larry away from his +home. I meant to make it a better place, once I set the +wrong aside. But you see, he wanted it just <i>his</i> way and +nothing else would do.”</p> +<p>The dear old face that had confronted life vicariously +flushed gently; but the young face that had set itself to the +stern facts of life showed neither weakness nor doubt.</p> +<p>“It has come to me, dear”––Mary-Clare now turned and +came close to Aunt Polly, resting her folded arms on the +thin little knees––“It has come to me, dear, that things +are not fixed right and when they are not, it won’t do any +good to keep on acting as if they were. Being married to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +Larry could never make it right for me to do what seems to +me wrong. And oh! Aunt Polly, I wish that I could make +you understand. Do try to understand, dear, there is a +sacred place in my soul, and I just do believe it is in all women’s +souls if they dared to say so––that no one, not even a +husband, has a right to claim. It is hers and––God’s. But +men don’t know, and some don’t care––and they just rush +along and take and take, never counting what it may cost––and +they make laws to help them when they might fail without, +and––well, Aunt Polly, it is hard to stand all alone in +the world. I think the really happy women are those who +don’t know what I mean, or those that have loved enough, +loved a man true enough––to share that sacred place with him––the +place he ought not ask for or have a law for. I know +you do not understand, Aunt Polly. I did not myself until +Peneluna told me.”</p> +<p>At this Aunt Polly braced against the pillows as if they +were rocks.</p> +<p>“Peneluna!” she gasped.</p> +<p>“Let me tell you, Aunt Polly. It is such a wonderful thing.”</p> +<p>As she might have spoken to Noreen, so Mary-Clare spoke +now to the woman who had only viewed life as Moses had +the Promised Land, from her high mount.</p> +<p>“And so, can you not see, dear Aunt Polly, it isn’t a +thing that laws can touch; it isn’t being good or bad––it is too +big a Thing to call by name. Peneluna could starve and still +keep it. She could be lonely and serve, but she <i>knew</i>. I +don’t love Larry, I cannot help it. All my life I am going +to keep all of the promise I can, Aunt Polly, but I’m going to––to +keep myself, too! A woman can give a man a good deal––but +she can’t give him some things if she tries to! Look +at the women; some of them in the Forest. Aunt Polly, +if marriage means what they look like–––” Mary-Clare +shuddered.</p> +<p>Aunt Polly had suddenly grown tender and far-seeing. +She let go the sounding words that Church and State had +taught her.</p> +<p>“Little girl,” she said, and all her motherhood rushed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +forward to seize, as it had ever done, those “scraps” of +others’ lives, “suppose the time should come when there +would be in your life another––someone besides Larry? +Why has all this come so sudden to you?”</p> +<p>Northrup seemed to loom in the room, just beyond the +fire’s glow. Her fear was taking shape.</p> +<p>“Oh! dearie, I might then ask Larry to release me from +my promise. My doctor used to say one could do that, but +if he would not, why, then––I’d keep my bargain as far as I +could. But–––” and here Mary-Clare rose and flung +her arms above her head. The action was jubilant, majestic. +“Oh! the wonder of it all; to be free to be myself and prove +what I <i>think</i> is right without having to take another’s idea of +it. I’ll listen; I’ll try to understand and be patient––but +it cannot be wrong, Aunt Polly, the thing I’ve done––since +this great feeling of wings has come to me instead of heavy +feet! Why, dear, I want something more than––than the +things women <i>think</i> are theirs. We don’t know what is ours +until we try.”</p> +<p>“And fail, my child?” Aunt Polly was crying.</p> +<p>“Yes; and fail sometimes and be hurt––but paying and +going on.”</p> +<p>“And leaving your man behind you?”</p> +<p>“Aunt Polly”––Mary-Clare looked down upon the kind, +quivering face––“a woman’s man cannot be left behind. +He’ll be beside her somehow. If she stays back, as I’ve +tried to do, she wouldn’t be his woman! That’s the dreadful +trouble with Larry and me. But, dearie, it isn’t always +a man in a woman’s life.”</p> +<p>“But the long, lonely way, child!” Polly was retracing her +own denied womanhood.</p> +<p>“It need not be lonely, dear, when we women find––other +things. They will count. They must.”</p> +<p>“What other things, Mary-Clare?”</p> +<p>“That’s what we must be finding out, dear. Love; the +man: some day they will be the glory, making everything +more splendid, but not––the all. I think I should have died, +Aunt Polly, had I kept on.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></div> +<p>Like an inspired young oracle, Mary-Clare spoke and +then dropped again by the fire.</p> +<p>“I’ve somehow learned all this,” she whispered, “in my +Place up on the hill. It just came to me, little by little, until +it convinced me. I had to tell Larry the truth.”</p> +<p>“Mary-Clare, I do not know; I don’t feel able to put it +into words, but I do believe you’re going to make sad trouble +for yourself, child. Such a thing as this you have done has +never been done before in the Forest.”</p> +<p>“Maybe.”</p> +<p>A door upstairs slammed loudly and both women started +nervously.</p> +<p>“I must tell Peter to fix the latch of the attic door to-morrow,” +Aunt Polly said, relieved to be back on good, +plain, solid ground. “The attic winders are raised and the +wind’s rising. It will be slam, slam all night, unless–––” +she rose quickly.</p> +<p>“Just a minute, Aunt Polly, I’m so tired. Please let me +lie here on the couch and rest for an hour and then I’ll slip +home.”</p> +<p>“Let me put you to bed properly, child. You look suddenly +beat flat. That’s the way with women. They get to +thinking they’ve got wings when they ain’t, child, they +ain’t. You’re making a terrible break in your life, child. +Terrible.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was arranging the couch.</p> +<p>“Come, dear,” she wheedled, “you tuck me up––so! I’ll +bank the fire when I go and leave everything safe. A little +rest and then to-morrow!––well, you’ll see that I have wings, +Aunt Polly; they are only tired now––for they are new wings! +I know that it must seem all madness, but it had to come.”</p> +<p>Aunt Polly pulled the soft covering over the huddled form––only +the pale, wistful face was presently to be seen; the +great, haunting eyes made Aunt Polly catch her breath. +She bent and kissed the forehead.</p> +<p>“Poor, reaching-out child!” she whispered.</p> +<p>“For something that is <i>there</i>, Aunt Polly.”</p> +<p>“God knows!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></div> +<p>“Of course He does. That’s why He gave us the––reach. +Good-night. Oh! how I love you, Aunt Polly. Good-night!”</p> +<p>It was Northrup’s door that had slammed shut. Aunt +Polly went above, secured the innocent attic door, and +then pattered down to her bedroom near Peter’s, feeling +that her house, at least, was safe.</p> +<p>It was silent at last. Northrup, in his dark chamber, lay +awake and––ashamed, though heaven was his witness that +his sin was not one he had planned. Aunt Polly had been +on his mind. He hated to have her down there alone. +Her sitting up for him had touched and––disturbed him; +he had left his door ajar.</p> +<p>“I’ll listen for a few minutes and if she doesn’t go to bed, +I’ll go down and shake her,” he concluded, and then promptly +went to sleep and was awakened by voices. Low, earnest +voices, but he heard no words and was sleepily confused. +If he thought anything, he thought Peter had been doing +what was needed to be done––driving Polly to bed!</p> +<p>And then Northrup <i>did</i> hear words. A word here; a +word there. He <i>knew</i> things he had no right to know––he +was awake at last, conscientiously, as well as physically. +He got up and slammed the door!</p> +<p>But he could not go to sleep. He felt hot and cold; mean +and indignant––but above all else, tremendously excited. +He lay still a little longer and then opened his door in time +to hear that “good-night, good-night”; and presently +Aunt Polly’s raid on the unoffending attic door at the other +end of the corridor and her pattering feet on their way, at +last, to her bedchamber.</p> +<p>“She’s forgot to bank the fire.” Northrup could see the +glow from his post and remembered Uncle Peter’s carefulness. +“I’ll run down and make things safe and lock the +door.” Northrup still held his respect for doors.</p> +<p>In heavy gown and soft slippers he noiselessly descended. +The living-room at the far end was dark; the fire glowed at +the other, dangerously, and one threatening log had rolled +menacingly to the fore.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></div> +<p>Bent upon quick action Northrup silently crossed the +floor, grasped the long poker and pushed the blazing wood +back past the safety line and held it there.</p> +<p>His face burned, but there was a hypnotic lure in that bed +of red coals. All that he had just heard––a disjointed and +rather dramatic revealment––was having a peculiar effect +upon him. He had become aware of some important facts +that accounted for things, such as Rivers’s appearance on +the Point. He had attributed that advent to Maclin’s secret +business; but it was, evidently, quite different.</p> +<p>What had occurred in the yellow house before the final +break? Northrup’s imagination came to the fore fully +equipped. Northrup was a man of the herd––at least he +had been, until lately. He knew the tracks of the herd and +its laws and codes.</p> +<p>“The brute!” he muttered under his breath; “and that +kind of a girl, too. Nothing is too fine for some devils to +appropriate and––smirch. Poor little girl!”</p> +<p>And then Northrup recalled Mary-Clare as he had seen her +that day as she emerged from the woods to meet him and +her child. The glory of Peneluna’s story was in her soul, +the autumn sunlight on her face. That lovely, smiling, +untouched face of hers! Again and again that memory of +her held his fancy.</p> +<p>“The cursed brute––hasn’t <i>got</i> her, thank God. She’s out +of the trap.”</p> +<p>And, all unconsciously, while this moral indignation had +its way, Northrup was drawing nearer to Mary-Clare; understanding +her, appropriating her! God knew he meant no +wrong. After all she had suffered he wasn’t going to mess +her life more––but he’d somehow make up to her what she’d +a perfect right to. All men were not low and bestial. He +had a duty––he would be above the touch of idle chatter; he +would take a hand in the game!</p> +<p>And just then Northrup, controlled by the force of attraction, +turned his head and looked at the face of Mary-Clare +upon the couch near him!</p> +<p>In all his life Northrup had never looked upon the face of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +a sleeping woman, and it stirred him deeply. He became as +rigid as marble; the heat beat upon him as it might have upon +stone. And then––as such wild things do occur, his old, +familiar dream came to him; he seemed <i>in</i> the dream. He +had at last opened one of those closed doors and was seeing +what the secret room held! He was part of the dream as he +was of his book in the making.</p> +<p>He breathed lightly; he did not move––but he was overcome +by waves of emotion that had never before even +lapped his feet.</p> +<p>At that instant Mary-Clare’s eyes opened. For a moment +they held his; then she turned, sighed, and he believed that +she had not really awakened.</p> +<p>Northrup rose stiffly and made his way to his room.</p> +<p>“She was asleep!” he fiercely thought until he was safe +behind his locked door!</p> +<p>“Was she?” He had to face that in the silence of the +hours after. “I’ll know when I next meet her.” This was +almost a groan.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX' id='CHAPTER_IX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> +<p>Kathryn Morris, as the days of Northrup’s +absence stretched into weeks, grew more and more +restless. She began to do some serious thinking, and +while this developed her mentally, the growing pains hurt +and she became twisted.</p> +<p>Heretofore she had been borne along on a peaceful current. +She was young and pretty and believed that everyone saw +her as she wanted them to see her––a charming, an unusually +charming girl.</p> +<p>People had always responded to her slightest whim, but +suddenly her own particular quarry had eluded her; did not +even pine for her; was able to keep silent while he left her +and his mother to think what they chose.</p> +<p>At this moment Kathryn placed herself beside Helen +Northrup as a timid débutante shrinks beside her chaperon.</p> +<p>“And that old beast”––Kathryn in the privacy of her +bedchamber could speak quite openly to herself––“that +old beast, Doctor Manly, suggested that at forty I might be +fat if–––” Well, it didn’t matter about the “if.” Kathryn +did a bit of mental arithmetic, using her fingers to aid her. +What was the difference between twenty-four and forty? +The difference seemed terrifyingly <i>little</i>. “A fat forty! +Oh, good Lord!”</p> +<p>Kathryn was in bed and it was nine-thirty in the morning! +She sprang out and looked at herself in the mirror.</p> +<p>“Well, my body hasn’t found it out yet!” she whispered, +and her pretty white teeth showed complacently.</p> +<p>Then she sat down in a deep chair and took account of +stock. That “fat-forty” was a mere panic. She would +not think of it––but it loomed, nevertheless.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></div> +<p>Of course, for the time being, there was Sandy Arnold on +the crest of one of his financial waves.</p> +<p>Kathryn was level-headed enough not to lose sight of receding +waves but then, on the other hand, the crest of a +receding wave was better than to be left on the sands––fat +and forty! And Northrup was displaying dangerous traits. +A distinct chill shook Kathryn.</p> +<p>She turned her thought to Northrup. Northrup had +seemed safe. He belonged to all that was familiar to her. +He would be famous some day––that she might interfere with +this never occurred to the girl. She simply saw herself in a +gorgeous studio pouring tea or dancing, and all the people +paying court to her while knowing that they ought to be +paying it to Northrup.</p> +<p>“But he always gets a grubby hole to work in.” Kathryn +fidgeted. “I daresay he is working now in some smudgy +old place.”</p> +<p>But this thought did not last. She could insist upon the +studio. A man owes his wife <i>something</i> if he will have his +way about his job.</p> +<p>Just at this point a tap on the door brought a frown to +Kathryn’s smooth forehead.</p> +<p>“Oh! come in,” she called peevishly.</p> +<p>A drab-coloured woman of middle age entered. She was +one of the individuals so grateful for being noticed at all +that her cheerfulness was a constant reproach. She had +been selected by Kathryn’s father to act as housekeeper +and chaperon. As the former she was a gratifying success; +as the latter, a joke and one to be eliminated as much as +possible.</p> +<p>For the first time in years Kathryn regarded her aunt now +with interest.</p> +<p>“Aunt Anna”––Kathryn never indulged in graceful tact +with her relations––“Aunt Anna, how old <i>are</i> you?”</p> +<p>Anna Morris coloured, flinched, but smiled coyly.</p> +<p>“Forty-two, dear, but it was only yesterday that my dressmaker +said that I should not tell that. It is not necessary, +you know.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span></div> +<p>“I suppose not!” Kathryn was regarding the fatness of +the woman who was calmly setting the disorderly room to +rights. “Aunt Anna, why didn’t you marry?”</p> +<p>The dull, fat face was turned away. Anna Morris never +lost sight of the fact that when Kathryn married she would +face a stern situation unless Kathryn proved kinder than +any one had any reason to expect her to be. So her remarks +were guarded.</p> +<p>“Oh! my dear, my dear, <i>what</i> a question. Well, to be +quite frank, I discovered at eighteen that some men could +stir my senses”––Anna Morris tittered––“and some +couldn’t. At twenty-two the only man who could stir me +was horribly poor; the other stirring ones had been snapped +up. You see, there was no one to help me with my affairs. +Your father never <i>did</i> understand. The only thing he was +keen about was making money enough to marry your mother. +Then you were born and your mother died and––well, there +was nothing for me to do but come here and help him out. +One has plain duties. I always had sense enough”––Anna +Morris moved about heavily––“to realize that senses do not +stir when poverty pinches, and this house <i>was</i> comfortable; +and duty <i>can</i> fill in chinks. I always contend”––the dull +eyes now confronted Kathryn––“that there <i>is</i> a dangerous +age for men and women. If they get through that alive +and alone––well, there is a kind of calm that comes.”</p> +<p>“I suppose so.” Kathryn felt a sinking in the region of +the heart. “Are you ever lonely?” she asked suddenly. +“Ever feel that you let your own life slip when you helped +Father and me?”</p> +<p>Anna Morris’s lips trembled as they always did when any +one was kind to her; but she got control of herself at once––she +could not afford the comfort of letting herself go!</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. Yes; sometimes. But who isn’t +lonely at times? Marriage can’t prevent that and even +your own private life, quite your own, is bound to have some +lonely spells. There are all kinds of husbands. Some float +about, heaven knows where; their wives must be lonely; and +then the settled sort––dear me! I’ve often seen women terribly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +lonely right in the rooms with their husbands. I have +come to the conclusion that once you pass the dangerous age +you’re as well placed one way as another. That is, if you are +a woman.”</p> +<p>Kathryn was looking unusually serious. While she was in +this mood she clutched at seeming trifles and held them curiously.</p> +<p>“What was Brace’s father like?” she suddenly asked.</p> +<p>Anna Morris started.</p> +<p>“Why, what ails you, Kathie?” she asked suspiciously. +“You’ve never taken any interest before. Why should you? +A young girl and all that––why should you?”</p> +<p>“Tell me, Aunt Anna. I’ve often wondered.”</p> +<p>Anna Morris sat down heavily in a chair. The older +Northrup had once had power to stir her; was one of the men +too poor for her to consider.</p> +<p>“Well,” she began slowly, tremblingly, “he wasn’t companionable +at the last, but I shall always see <i>his</i> side. Helen +Northrup is a fine woman––I can understand how many +take her part, but being married to her kind must seem like +mental Mormonism. <i>She</i> calls it developing––but a man +like Thomas Northrup married a woman because she was +the kind he wanted and he couldn’t be expected to keep +trace of all the kinds of women Helen Northrup ran into and––out +of!”</p> +<p>“I don’t know what you mean, Aunt Anna. Do talk +sense.”</p> +<p>Kathryn was almost excited. It was like reading what +wasn’t intended for innocent young girls to know.</p> +<p>“Well, first, Helen Northrup was just like all loving young +girls, I guess––but when she didn’t find <i>all</i> she wanted, she +took to developing, as she called it. For <i>my</i> part I believe +when a woman finds her husband isn’t <i>all</i> she expected, she +ought to accept her lot and make the best of it.”</p> +<p>“And Brace’s mother started out to make her own lot? I +see.”</p> +<p>Kathryn nodded her head.</p> +<p>“Well, something like that. She took to writing. Thomas +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +Northrup didn’t know what ailed her and I don’t wonder. +She should have spent herself on <i>his</i> career, not making one +for herself. But I must say when Brace was born she stopped +that nonsense but she evolved then into a mother!” Anna +sniffed. “A man can share with his children, but when it +comes to giving up everything, well!”</p> +<p>“What did he do, Aunt Anna?”</p> +<p>“He went away.”</p> +<p>“With a woman?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“One he just met when Mrs. Northrup became a mother?”</p> +<p>“He knew her before, but if Helen Northrup had been all +she should have been to him–––”</p> +<p>“I begin to see. And then?”</p> +<p>“Well, then he died and proved how noble he was at +heart. When he went off, Helen Northrup wouldn’t take a +cent. She had a little of her own and she went to work and +Brace helped when he grew older––and then when Thomas +Northrup died he left almost all his fortune to his wife. He +never considered her anything else. I call his a really great +nature.” Poor Anna was in a trembling and ecstatic state.</p> +<p>“I call him a––just what he was!” Kathryn was weary of +the subject. “I think Brace’s mother was a fool to let him +off so easy. I would have bled him well rather than to let +the other woman put it all over me.”</p> +<p>“My dear, that’s not a proper way for you to talk!” Aunt +Anna became the chaperon. “Come, get dressed now, +dearie. There’s the luncheon, you know.”</p> +<p>“What luncheon?”</p> +<p>“Why, with Mr. Arnold, my dear, and he included me, too! +Such a sweet fellow he is, and so wise and thoughtful.”</p> +<p>“Oh!”</p> +<p>There had been a time when she and Sandy Arnold met +clandestinely––it was such fun! He included Aunt Anna +now. Why?</p> +<p>And just then, as if it were a live and demanding thing, +her eyes fell on Northrup’s last book. She scowled at it. +It was a horrible book. All about dirty, smudgy people +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +that you couldn’t forget and who kept springing out on you +in the most unexpected places. At dinners and luncheons +they often wedged in with their awful eyes fixed on your +plate and made you choke. They probably were not true. +And those things Brace said! Besides, if they were true, +people like that were used to them––they had never known +anything else!</p> +<p>And then Brace had said some terrible things about war; +that war going on over the sea. Of course, no one expected +to have a war, but it was unpatriotic for any one to say what +Brace had about those perfectly dear officers at West Point +and––what was it he said?––oh, yes––having the blood of +the young on one’s soul and settling horrid things, like +money and land, with lives.</p> +<p>At this Kathryn tossed the book aside and it fell at Anna’s +feet. She picked it up and handled it as if it were a tender +baby that had bumped its nose.</p> +<p>“It must be perfectly wonderful,” she said, smoothing the +book, “to have an autographed copy of a novel. It’s like +having a lock of someone’s hair. Where <i>is</i> Brace, Kathryn?”</p> +<p>This was unfortunate.</p> +<p>“That is my business and his!” Kathryn spoke slowly. +Her eyes slanted and her lips hardened.</p> +<p>“My darling, I beg your pardon!” And once more Anna +Morris was shoved into the groove where she belonged.</p> +<p>Later that day, after the luncheon with Sandy––Anna had +been eliminated by a master stroke that reduced her to tears +and left Sandy a victim to Kathryn’s wiles––Kathryn called +upon Helen Northrup.</p> +<p>She was told by the smiling little maid to go up into the +Workshop. This room was a pitiful attempt to lure Brace +to work at home; in his absence Helen sat there and scribbled. +She wrote feeble little verses with a suggestion of the real +thing in them. Sometimes they got published because the +suggestion caught the attention of a sympathetic publisher, +and these small recognitions kept alive a spark that was all +but extinguished when Helen Northrup chose, as women of +her time did, a profession or––the woman’s legitimate sphere!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span></div> +<p>There had been no regret in Helen’s soul for whatever part +she played in her own life––her son was her recompense for +any disappointment she might have met, and he was, she devoutly +believed, her interpreter. She loved to think in her +quiet hours that her longings and aspirations had found expression +in her child; she had sought, always, to consider +his interests wisely––unselfishly, of course––and leave him +as free to live his own life as though she were not the lonely, +disillusioned woman that she was.</p> +<p>She had never known how early Brace had understood the +conditions in his home––mothers and fathers rarely do. +Only once during his boyhood had Brace ventured upon the +subject over which he spent many confused and silent hours.</p> +<p>When he was fourteen he remarked, in that strained voice +that he believed hid any emotion:</p> +<p>“I say, Mother, a lot of fellows at our school have fathers +and mothers who live apart––most of the fellows side with +their mothers!”</p> +<p>These words nearly made Helen ill. She could make no +reply. She looked dumbly at the boy facing her with a new +and awful revealment. She understood that he wanted her to +<i>know</i>, wanted to comfort her; and she knew, with terrifying +certainty, that she could not deceive him––she was at his +mercy!</p> +<p>She was wise enough to say nothing. But after that she +felt his suddenly acquired strength. It was shown in his +tenderness, his cheerfulness, his companionship, and, thank +God! in his silence.</p> +<p>But while Helen gloried in her boy she still was loyal to the +traditions of marriage, and her little world never got behind +her screen. She had divorced her husband because he +desired it––then she went on alone. When her husband +died away from home, his body was brought to her. It had +been his last request and she paid all respect to it with her +boy close beside her. And then she forgot––really, in most +cases––the things that she had been remembering. She +erected over her dead husband, not a stone, but a living +<i>unreality</i>. It answered the purpose for which it was designed; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +it made it possible for her to live rather a full life, +be a comrade to her son––a friend indeed––and to share all +his joys and many of his confidences, and to impress upon +him, so she trusted, that he must not sacrifice anything for +her.</p> +<p>Why should he, indeed? Had she not interests enough to +occupy her? The sight of a widowed mother draining the +life-blood from her children had always been a dreadful +thing to Helen Northrup, and so well had she succeeded in her +determination to leave Brace free that the subject rarely +came into the minds of either.</p> +<p>But Brace’s latest move had disturbed Helen not a little. +It startled her, made her afraid, as that remark of his in his +school days had done. Did he chafe under ties that he loved +but found that he must flee from for awhile? Why did he +and Kathryn not marry? Were they considering her? Was +she blinded?</p> +<p>Helen had been going over all this for days before the +visit of Kathryn, and during the night preceding the call +she had awakened in great pain; she had had the pain before +and it had power to reduce her to cowardice. It +seemed to dare her, while she lay and suffered, to confide in +a physician!</p> +<p>There was an old memory of one who had suffered and +died from–––“Find out the truth about me!” each dart of +fire in the nerves cried, and when the pain was over Helen +Northrup had not dared to meet the challenge and go to +Manly or another! At first she tried to reason with herself; +then she compromised.</p> +<p>“After all, it is so fleeting. I’ll rest, take better care of +myself. I’m not so young as I was––Nature is warning me; +it may not be the other.”</p> +<p>Well, rest and care helped and the attacks were less frequent. +That gave a certain amount of hope.</p> +<p>When Kathryn entered the Workshop she found Helen +on the couch instead of at the flat-topped desk. She looked +very white and blue-lipped but she was smiling and happily +glad to see her visitor. She was extremely fond of Kathryn. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +Early in life she had prepared herself to accept and love any +woman her son might choose––she would never question the +gift he offered! But when Kathryn was offered, she was overjoyed. +Kathryn was part of the dear, familiar life; the +daughter of old friends. Helen Northrup felt that she was +blessed beyond all mothers. The thing, to her, seemed so +exactly right. That the marriage did not take place had +hardly disturbed her. Kathryn was young, Brace was winning, +not only a home for the girl, but honour, and there +was always time. <i>Time</i> is such a splendid heritage of youth +and such a rare relic of age.</p> +<p>“Why, my dearie-dear!” exclaimed Kathryn, kneeling +beside the couch. “What <i>is</i> it?”</p> +<p>“Nothing, dear child; nothing more than a vicious touch +of neuralgia.”</p> +<p>“Have you seen Doctor Manly?” Kathryn patted the +pillows and soothed, by her touch, the hot forehead. Kathryn +had the gift of healing in her small, smooth hands, but +not in her soul.</p> +<p>She had always been jealous of the love between Brace and +his mother. It was so unusual, so binding, so beyond her +conception; but she could hide her feelings until by and by.</p> +<p>“Now, dearie-dear, we <i>must</i> send for Doctor Manly. Of +course Brace ought to know. He would never forgive us if +he did not know. I hate to trouble you but, my dear, you +look simply terrifyingly ill.” Like a lightning flash Kathryn’s +nimble wits caught a possibility.</p> +<p>Helen smiled. Then spoke slowly:</p> +<p>“Now, my dear, when Brace comes home, I promise to see +Doctor Manly. These attacks are severe––but they pass +quickly and there are long periods when I am absolutely +free from them.”</p> +<p>“You mean, you have attacks?” Kathryn looked appalled.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes; off and on. That fact proves how unimportant +they are.”</p> +<p>Kathryn was again taking stock.</p> +<p>She believed that Brace was still at that place from which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +the letter came! She was fiendishly subject to impressions +and suspicions.</p> +<p>“Now if he is still there”––thoughts ran like liquid fire +in Kathryn’s brain––“<i>why</i> does he stay? It isn’t far.” She +had made sure of that by road maps when the letter first +came. “I could motor out there and see!” The liquid fire +brought colour to the girl’s face.</p> +<p>She was dramatic, too, she could always see herself playing +the leading parts in emotional situations. Just now, like +more flashes of lightning, disclosing vivid scenes, she saw +herself, prostrated by fear and anxiety for Helen Northrup, +finding Brace, confiding in him because she dared not take +the chances of silence and dared not disobey and go to +Doctor Manly.</p> +<p>Brace would be fear-filled and remorseful, would see at +last how she, Kathryn, had his interests in mind. He +would cling to her. Sitting close by the couch, her face +pressed to Helen Northrup’s shoulder, Kathryn contemplated +the alluring and passionate scenes. Brace had always lacked +passion. She had always to hold Arnold virtuously in +check, but Brace was able to control himself. But––and +here the vivid pictures reeled on, familiarity had dulled +things, long engagements were flattening––Brace would at +last see her as she was. She’d forgive anything that might +have happened––of course, anything <i>might</i> have happened––she, +a woman of the world, understood.</p> +<p>And––Kathryn was brought to a sudden halt––the reel +spun on but there was no picture!</p> +<p>Suppose, after all, there was nothing really to be frightened +about in these attacks? Well, that would be found out after +Brace had been brought home and might enhance rather +than detract from––her divine devotion.</p> +<p>Presently Kathryn became aware of the fact that Helen +Northrup had been speaking while the reel reeled!</p> +<p>“And then that escapade of his when he was only seven.” +Helen patted the golden head beside her while her thoughts +were back with her boy. “He was walking with me when +suddenly he looked up; his poor little face was all twisted! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +He just said rather impishly, ‘I’m going! I am really!’ and +he went! I was, naturally, frightened, and ran after him––then, +when I caught sight of him, a long way ahead, I stopped +and waited. When he thought I was not following, he waded +right out into a puddle; he even had a scrappy fight with a +bigger boy who contested his right to invade the puddle. +It was so absurd. Kathryn, I actually went home; I felt +sure Brace would find his way back and he did. I was nearly +wild with anxiety, but I waited. He came back disgustingly +dirty, but hilariously happy. He expected punishment. +When none was meted out to him––he told me all about it––it +seemed flat enough when he saw how I took it. Why, I +never even mentioned the mud on him. He was disappointed, +but I think he understood more than I realized. When he +went to bed that night, he begged my pardon!”</p> +<p>Kathryn got up and walked about the room. She was +staging another drama. Brace was now playing in puddles––not +such simple ones as those of his childhood. He was +having his little fight, too, possibly; with whom?</p> +<p>Well, how perfectly thrilling to save him!</p> +<p>Such a girl as Kathryn has as cheap an imagination as +any lurid factory girl, but it is kept as safely from sight as the +contents of her vanity bag.</p> +<p>“Kathryn, have you heard from Brace?”</p> +<p>The girl started almost guiltily. Helen hated to ask this, +she feared Kathryn might think her envious; but Kathryn +rose and drew a chair to the couch.</p> +<p>“No, dearie-dear,” she said sweetly.</p> +<p>“So you don’t know just where he is?”</p> +<p>“How could I know, dearie thing?”</p> +<p>So they were not keeping things from her; shutting her out! +Helen Northrup raised her head from the pillow.</p> +<p>“We’re in the same boat, darling,” she said, so glad to be +in the same boat. “Lately I’ve had a few whim-whams.” +Helen felt she could be confidential. “I suppose I am touching +the outer circle of old age, and before it blinds me, I’m +going to have my say. It would be just like you and Brace +to forget yourselves and think of me. And if I do not look out, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +I’ll be taking your sacrifice and calling it by its wrong name. +You and Brace must marry. I half believe you’ve been waiting +for me to push you out of the nest. Well, here you go! +Your own nest will be sacred to me, another place for me to +go to, another interest. I’ll be having you both closer. +Now, don’t cry, little girl. I’ve found you out and found +myself, too!”</p> +<p>Kathryn was shedding tears––tears of gratitude for the +material Helen was putting at her disposal.</p> +<p>“My dear little Kathryn! It is going to be all right, all +right. Why, childie, when he comes home I am going to insist +upon the wedding. I am not a young woman, really, +though I put up a bit of a bluff––and the time isn’t very long, +no matter how you look at it––so, darling, you and Brace +must humour me, do the one big thing to make me happy––you +must be married!”</p> +<p>Kathryn looked up. The tears hung to her long lashes.</p> +<p>“You want this?” she faltered with quivering lips.</p> +<p>Helen believed she understood at last.</p> +<p>“My darling!” she said tenderly, “it is the one great +longing of my heart.”</p> +<p>Then she dropped back on her pillow and closed her eyes +while the pain gripped her. But the pain, for a moment, +seemed a friend, not a foe. It might be the thing that would +open the door––out.</p> +<p>Helen had spoken truth as truth should be but never +quite is, to a mother. She had taken her place in the march, +her colours flying. But her place was the mother’s place, +lagging in the rear.</p> +<p>Such an effort as she had just made caused angels to weep +over her.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_X' id='CHAPTER_X'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> +<p>By a kind of self-hypnotism Northrup had gained his +ends so far as drifting with the slow current of King’s +Forest was concerned, and in his relation toward his +book. The unrest, as to his duty in a world-wide sense, +was lulled. Whatever of that sentiment moved him was +focussed on Maclin who, in a persistent, vague way became a +haunting possibility of danger almost too preposterous to be +considered seriously. Still the possibility was worth watching. +Maclin’s attitude toward Northrup was interesting. +He seemed unable to ignore him, while earnestly desiring to +do so. The fact was this: Maclin looked upon Northrup as he +might have upon a slow-burning fuse. That he could not +estimate the length of the fuse, nor to what it was attached, +did not mend matters. One cannot ignore a trail of fire, and +a guilty conscience is never a sleeping one.</p> +<p>The people on the Point had long since come to the conclusion +that Northrup was a trailer of Maclin, not their +enemy. The opinion was divided as to his relations with +Mary-Clare, but that was a different matter.</p> +<p>“I’ll bet my last dollar,” Twombley muttered, forgetting +that his last dollar was a thing of the past, “that this young +feller will find out about those inventions. Inventions be +damned! That’s what I say. There’s something going on +at the mines that don’t spell inventions.”</p> +<p>This was said to Peneluna who was aging under the strain +of unaccustomed excitement.</p> +<p>“When he lands Maclin,” she said savagely, “I’ll grab +Larry. Larry is a fool, but from way back, Maclin is the +sinner. Queer”––she gave a deep sigh––“how a stick muddling +up a biling brings the scum to the surface! I declare! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +I wish we had something to grip hold of. Suspicioning your +neighbours ain’t healthy.”</p> +<p>Jan-an, untroubled by moral codes, was unconditionally +on Northrup’s side. She patched her gleanings into a vivid +conclusion and announced, much to Peneluna’s horror:</p> +<p>“Supposin’ we are goin’ ter hell ’long of not knowin’ +where we are goin’, ain’t it a lot pleasanter than the way we +was traipsin’ before things began to happen?”</p> +<p>Poor Jan-an was getting her first taste of romance and +tragedy and she was thriving on the excitement. When she +was not watching the romance in the woods with Mary-Clare +and Noreen, she was actively engaged in tragedy. She +was searching for the lost letters and she did not mince +matters in her own thoughts.</p> +<p>“Larry stole ’em!” she had concluded from the first. +“What’s old letters, anyway? But I’ll get those letters if I +die for it!”</p> +<p>She shamelessly ransacked Larry’s possessions while she +cleaned his disorderly shack, but no letters did she find. +She became irritable and unmoral.</p> +<p>“Lordy!” she confided to Peneluna one day while they +were preparing Larry’s food, “don’t yer wish, Peneluna, that +it wasn’t evil to poison some folks’ grub?”</p> +<p>Peneluna paused and looked at the girl with startled +eyes.</p> +<p>“If you talk like that,” she replied, “I’ll hustle you into +the almshouse.” Then: “Who would you like to do that +to?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Oh! folks as just clutter up life for decent folks. Maclin +and Larry.”</p> +<p>“Now, see here, Jan-an, that kind of talk is downright +creepy and terrible wicked. Listen to me. Are you listening?”</p> +<p>Jan-an nodded sullenly.</p> +<p>“I’m your best friend, child. I mean to stand by yer, so +you just heed. There are folks as can use language like that +and others will laugh it off, but you can’t do it. The best +thing for you to do is to slip along out of sight and sound as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +much as yer can. If you attract attention––the Lord above +knows what will happen; I don’t.”</p> +<p>Jan-an was impressed.</p> +<p>“I ain’t making them notice me,” she mumbled, “but yer +just can’t take a joke.”</p> +<p>Noreen and Jan-an, in those warm autumn days––and +what an autumn it was!––often came to the little chapel +where Northrup wrote.</p> +<p>They knew this was forbidden; they knew that the mornings +were to be undisturbed, but what could a man who +loved children say to the two patient creatures crouching +at the foot of the stone steps leading up to the church?</p> +<p>Northrup could hear them whisper––it blended with the +twittering of the birds––he heard Noreen’s chuckle and +Jan-an’s warning. Occasionally a flaming maple branch +would fall through the window on to his table; once Ginger +was propelled through the door with a note, badly printed by +Noreen, tied to his collar.</p> +<p>“We’re here,” the strangely scrawled words informed +him; “me and Jan-an. We’ve got something for you.”</p> +<p>But Northrup held rigidly to his working hours and finally +made an offer to his most persistent foes.</p> +<p>“See here, you little beggars,” he said, including the gaunt +Jan-an in this, “if you keep to the other side of the bridge, +I’ll tell you a story, once a day.”</p> +<p>This had been the beginning of romance to Jan-an.</p> +<p>The story-telling, thus agreed upon, opened a new opportunity +for meeting Mary-Clare. Quite naturally she +shared with Noreen and Jan-an the hours of the late afternoon +walks in the woods or, occasionally, by the fireside of +her own home when the chilly gloaming fell early.</p> +<p>Often Northrup, casting a hurried thought to his past, +and then forward to the time when all this pleasure must end, +looked thoughtful. How circumscribed those old days had +been; how uneventful at the best! How strange the old +ways would seem by and by, touched by the glamour of +what he was passing through now!</p> +<p>And, as was often the case, Manly’s words came out like +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +guiding and warning flashes. The future could only be made +safe by the present; the past––well! Northrup would not +dwell upon that. He would keep the compact with himself.</p> +<p>He went boldly to the yellow house when the mood seized +him. His first encounters with Mary-Clare, after that night +at the inn when he had watched her sleeping, had reassured +him.</p> +<p>“She was not awake!” he concluded. The belief made it +possible for him to act with assurance.</p> +<p>Peter and Polly preserved a discreet silence concerning +affairs in the Forest. “You never can tell when a favouring +wind will right things again,” Polly remarked. She cared +more for Mary-Clare than anything else.</p> +<p>“Or upset ’em,” Peter added. He had his mind fixed +upon Maclin.</p> +<p>“Well, brother, sailing safe, or struggling in the water, it +won’t help matters to stir up the mud.”</p> +<p>“No; and just having Brace hanging around like a threat +is something. I allas did hold to them referendum and recall +notions. Once a feller knows he ain’t the only shirt in the +laundry, he keeps decenter. So long as Maclin scents +Brace, he keeps to his holdings. Did yer hear how he’s +cleaning up the Cosey Bar? He thinks maybe he’s going +to be attacked from that quarter. Then, again, he’s been +offering work to the men around here––and he’s letting +out that he never understood our side of things rightly and +that he’s listening to Larry––get that, Polly?––listening to +Larry and letting <i>him</i> make the folks on the Point get +on to the fact that he’s their friend. Gosh! Maclin their +friend.”</p> +<p>And Mary-Clare all this time mystified her friends and +her foes. She had foes. Men, and women, too, who looked +askance at her. The less they knew, the more they had to +invent. The proprieties of the Forest were being outraged. +The women who envied Mary-Clare her daring fell upon her +first. From their own misery and disillusionment, they +sought to defend their position; create an atmosphere of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +virtue around their barren lives, by attacking the woman +who refused to be a martyr.</p> +<p>“You can’t tell me,” said a downtrodden wife of one of +Maclin’s men, “that she turned her husband out of doors +after wheedling him out of all he should have had from his +father, unless she meant to leave the door open for another! +A woman only acts as she has for some man.”</p> +<p>The women, the happy ones, drove down upon Mary-Clare +from another quarter. The happy women are always +first to lay down the laws for the unhappy ones. Not +knowing, they are irresponsible. The men of the Forest +did some laughing and side talking, but on the whole they +denounced Mary-Clare because she was a menace to the +Established Code.</p> +<p>“God!” said the speaker of the Cosey Bar, “what’s coming +to the world, anyhow? There ain’t any rest and peace nowheres, +and when it comes to women taking to naming +terms, I say it’s time for us to stand for our rights fierce.”</p> +<p>Maclin had delicately and indirectly set forth Mary-Clare’s +“terms” and the Forest was staggered.</p> +<p>But Mary-Clare either did not hear, or the turmoil was so +insistent that she had become used to it. She suddenly +displayed an energy that made her former activities seem +tame.</p> +<p>She brought from the attic an old loom and got Aunt Polly +to teach her to weave; she presently designed quaint patterns +and delighted in her work. She invited several children, +neglected little souls, to come to the yellow house and she +taught them with Noreen. She resorted largely to the +method the old doctor had used with her. Adapting, as she +saw possible, her knowledge to her little group, she gave generously +but held her peace.</p> +<p>Northrup often had a hearty laugh after attending one of +the “school” sessions.</p> +<p>“It’s like tossing all kinds of feed to a flock of birds,” +he told Aunt Polly, “and letting the little devils pick as they +can.”</p> +<p>“I reckon they pick only as much as their little stomachs +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +can hold,” Aunt Polly replied, “and it makes <i>me</i> smile to +notice how folks as ain’t above saying lies about Mary-Clare +can trust their children to her teaching.”</p> +<p>“Oh! well, lies are soon killed,” Northrup returned, but +his smile vanished.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was often troubled by Larry’s persistence at +the Point. She could not account for it, but she did not alter +her own way of life. She went, occasionally, to the desolate +Point; she rarely saw Larry, but if she did, she greeted him +pleasantly. It was amazing to find how naturally she could +do this. Indeed the whole situation was at the snapping +point.</p> +<p>“I do say,” Twombley confided to Peneluna, “it don’t seem +nater for a woman not to grieve and fuss at such goings on.”</p> +<p>Peneluna tossed her head and sneezed.</p> +<p>“I ain’t ever understood,” she broke in, “why a woman +should fuss and break herself on account of a man doing +what he oughtn’t ter do. Let <i>him</i> do the fussing and breaking.”</p> +<p>“She might try and save him.” Twombley, like all the +male Forest, was stirred at what he could not understand.</p> +<p>“Women have got their hands full of other things”––Peneluna +sneezed again as if the dust of ages was stifling her––“and +I do say that after a woman does save a man, she’s +often too worn out to enjoy her savings.”</p> +<p>And Larry, carefully dressed, living alone and to all appearances +brave and steady, simply, according to Maclin’s +ordering, “let out more sheet rope” in order that Mary-Clare +might sail on to the rocks and smash herself to atoms +before the eyes of her fellow creatures.</p> +<p>Surely the Forest had much to cogitate upon.</p> +<p>“There is just one ledge of rocks for her kind,” said Maclin. +“You keep yourself clear and safe, Rivers, and watch +the wreck.”</p> +<p>Maclin could be most impressive at times and his conversation +had a nautical twist that was quite effective.</p> +<p>Northrup at this time would have been shocked beyond +measure had any one suggested that his own attitude of mind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +resembled in the slightest degree that of Maclin, Twombley, +and Rivers. He was too sane and decent a man to consider +for a moment that Mary-Clare’s actions were based in the +slightest degree upon his presence in the Forest. He knew +that he had had nothing to do with the matter, but that was +no reason for thinking that he might not have. Suggestion +was enmeshing him in the disturbance.</p> +<p>He felt that Larry was a brute. That he had the outer +covering of respectability counted against him. Larry always +kept his best manners for public exhibition; his inheritance +of refinement could be tapped at any convenient hour. +Northrup knew his type. He had not recalled his father in +years as he did now! A man legally sustained by his interpretation +of marriage could make a hell or a heaven of any +woman’s life. This truism took on new significance in the +primitive Forest.</p> +<p>But in that Mary-Clare had had courage to escape from +hell––and Northrup had pictured it all from memories of his +boyhood––roused him to admiration.</p> +<p>She was of the mettle of his mother. She might be bent +but never broken. She was treading a path that none of her +little world had ever trod before. Alone in the Forest she +had taken a stand that she could not hope would be understood, +and how superbly she was holding it!</p> +<p>Knowing what he did, Northrup compared Mary-Clare +with the women of his acquaintance; what one of them could +defy their conventions as she was doing, instinctively, courageously?</p> +<p>“But she ought not to be permitted to think all men are +like Rivers!”</p> +<p>This thought grew upon Northrup, and it was the first +step, generously taken, to establish higher ideals for his sex. +With the knowledge he had, he was in a position of safety. +Not to be seen with Mary-Clare while the silly gossip muttered +or whispered would be to acknowledge a reason for not +meeting her––so he flung caution to the winds.</p> +<p>There were nutting parties for the children––innocent +enough, heaven knew! There were thrilling camping suppers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +on the flat ridge of the hills in order to watch the miracle of +sunset and moonrise.</p> +<p>No wonder Jan-an cast her lot in with those headed, so the +whisper ran, for perdition. She had never been so nearly +happy in her life; neither had Mary-Clare nor Noreen nor––though +he did not own it––Northrup, himself.</p> +<p>No wonder Maclin, and the outraged Larry, saw distinctly +the ridge on which the wreck was to occur.</p> +<p>But no one was taking into account that idealism in Mary-Clare +that the old doctor had devoutly hoped would save her, +not destroy her. Northrup began to comprehend it during +the more intimate conversations that took place when the +children, playing apart, left him and Mary-Clare alone. +The wonder grew upon him and humbled him. It was +something he had never encountered before. A philosophy +and code built entirely upon knowledge gained from books +and interpreted by a singular strength and purity of mind. +It piqued Northrup; he began to test it, never estimating +danger for himself.</p> +<p>“Books are like people,” Mary-Clare said one day––she +was watching Northrup build a campfire and the last bit of +sunlight fell full upon her––“the words are the costumes.” +She had marked the surprised look in Northrup’s eyes as she +quoted rather a bald sentiment from an old book.</p> +<p>“Yes, of course, and that’s sound reasoning.” For a moment +Northrup felt as though a clear north wind were blowing +away the dust in an overlooked corner of his mind. +“But it’s rather staggering to find that you read French,” +he added, for the quotation had been literally translated. +“You do, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“I do, a little. I’m taking it up again for Noreen.”</p> +<p>Noreen’s name was continually being brought into focus. +It had the effect of pushing Northrup, metaphorically, into a +safe zone. He resented this.</p> +<p>“She is afraid!” he thought. “Rivers has left his mark +upon her mind, damn him!”</p> +<p>This sentiment should have given warning, but it did +not.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></div> +<p>“I study nights”––Mary-Clare was speaking quite as if +fear had no part in her thought––“French, mathematics––all +the hard things that went in and––stuck.”</p> +<p>“Hard things do stick, don’t they?” Northrup hated the +pushed-aside feeling.</p> +<p>“Terribly. But my doctor was adamant about hard +things. He used to say that I’d learn to love chipping off the +rough corners.” Here Mary-Clare laughed, and the sound +set Northrup’s nerves a-tingle as the clear notes of music did.</p> +<p>“I can see myself now, Mr. Northrup, sitting behind my +doctor on his horse, my book flattened out against his back. +I’d ask questions; he’d fling the answers to me. Once I +drew the map of Italy on his blessed old shoulders with crayon +and often French verbs ran crookedly up the seam of his +coat, for the horse changed his gait now and then.”</p> +<p>Northrup laughed aloud. He edged away from his isolation +and said:</p> +<p>“Your doctor was a remarkable man. His memory lives +in the Forest; it’s about the most vital thing here. It and all +that preserves it.” His eyes rested upon Mary-Clare.</p> +<p>“Yes. He was wonderful. Lately he seems more alive +than ever. He had such simple rules of life––but they work. +He told me so often that when a trouble or anything like +that came, there were but two ways to meet it. If it was +going to kill you, die at your best. If it wasn’t, get over it +at once; never waste time––live as soon as possible.” Was +there a note of warning in the words?</p> +<p>“And you’re doing it?”</p> +<p>An understanding look passed between them.</p> +<p>“Yes, Mr. Northrup, for Noreen.”</p> +<p>Back went Northrup to his place with a dull thud! Then +Mary-Clare hurried to a safer subject.</p> +<p>“I wish you would tell me about your book, Mr. Northrup. +I have the strangest feeling about it. It seems like a new +kind of flower growing in the Forest. I love flowers.”</p> +<p>Northrup looked down at his companion. Her bared head, +her musing, radiant face excited and moved him. He had +forgotten his book.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></div> +<p>“You’re rather like a strange growth yourself,” he said +daringly.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare smiled gaily.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to blame my old doctor for that,” she said.</p> +<p>“Or bless him,” Northrup broke in.</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s better, if it is true.”</p> +<p>“It’s tremendously true.”</p> +<p>“A book”––again that elusive push––“must be a great +responsibility. Once you put your thoughts and words down +and send them out––there you are!”</p> +<p>“Yes. Good Lord! There you are.”</p> +<p>“I knew that you would feel that way about it and that +is why I would like to hear you talk of it. It’s a story, isn’t +it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, a story.”</p> +<p>“You can reach further with a story.”</p> +<p>“I suppose so. You do not have to knuckle down to +rules. You can let your vision have a say, and your feelings.” +Northrup, seeing that his book must play a part, +accepted that fact.</p> +<p>“I suppose”––Mary-Clare was looking wistfully up at +Northrup––“all the people in your books work out what you +believe is truth. I can always <i>feel</i> truth in a book––or the +lack of it.”</p> +<p>In the near distance Noreen and Jan-an were gathering +wood. They were singing and shouting lustily.</p> +<p>“May I sit on your log?” Northrup spoke hurriedly.</p> +<p>“Of course,” and Mary-Clare moved a little. “The sun’s +gone,” she went on. “It’s quite dark in the valley.”</p> +<p>“It’s still light here––and there’s the fire.” Northrup was +watching the face beside him.</p> +<p>“Yes, the fire, and presently the moon rising, just over +there.”</p> +<p>Restraint lay between the two on the mossy log. They +both resented it.</p> +<p>“You know, you must know, that I’d rather have you +share my book than any one else.” Northrup spoke almost +roughly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div> +<p>He had meant to say something quite different, but anything +would do so long as he controlled the situation.</p> +<p>“I wonder why?” Mary-Clare kept her face turned away.</p> +<p>“Well, you are so phenomenally keen. You know such a +lot.”</p> +<p>“I used to snap up everything like a hungry puppy, Uncle +Peter often said. I suppose I do now, Mr. Northrup, but I +only know life as a blind person does: I feel.”</p> +<p>“That’s just it. You <i>feel</i> life. It isn’t coloured for you +by others. You get its form, its hardness or softness, its +fragrance or the reverse, but you fix your own colour. That’s +why you’d be such a ripping critic. Will you let me read +some of my book to you?”</p> +<p>“Oh! of course. I’d be so glad and proud.”</p> +<p>“Come, now, you’re not joking?”</p> +<p>The large golden eyes turned slowly and rested upon +Northrup.</p> +<p>“I do not think I ever joke”––Mary-Clare’s words fell +softly––“about such things. Why, it would seem like seeing a +soul get into a body. You do not joke about that.”</p> +<p>“You make me horribly afraid about my book. People do +not usually take the writing of a book in just that way.”</p> +<p>“I wish they did. You see, my doctor often said that +books would live if they only held truth. He loved these +words, ‘And above all else––Truth taketh away the victory!’ +I can see him now waving his arms and singing that defiantly, +as if he were challenging the whole world. He said +that truth was the soul of things.”</p> +<p>“But who knows Truth?”</p> +<p>“There is something in us that knows it. Don’t you think +so?”</p> +<p>“But we see it so differently.”</p> +<p>“That does not matter, if we know it! Truth is fixed +and sure. Isn’t that so?”</p> +<p>“I do not know. Sometimes I think so: then––good Lord! +that is what I’m trying to find out.”</p> +<p>Northrup’s face grew tense.</p> +<p>“And so am I.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div> +<p>“All right, then, let’s go on the quest together!” Northrup +stood up and offered his hand to Mary-Clare as if actually +they were to start on the pilgrimage. “Where and when +may I begin to read to you?”</p> +<p>The children were coming nearer.</p> +<p>“While this weather lasts, I’d love the open. Wouldn’t +you? Logs, like this, are such perfect places.”</p> +<p>“I thought perhaps”––Northrup looked what he dared +not voice––“I thought perhaps in that cabin of yours we +might be more comfortable, more undisturbed.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare smiled and shook her head.</p> +<p>“No, I think it would be impossible. That cabin is too +full––well, I’m sure I could not listen as I should, to you, in +that cabin.”</p> +<p>And so it was that the book became the medium of expression +to Northrup and Mary-Clare. It justified that +which might otherwise have been impossible. It drugged +them both to any sense of actual danger. It was like a +shield behind which they might advance and retreat unseen +and unharmed. And if the shield ever fell for an +unguarded moment, Northrup believed that he alone was +vouchsafed clear vision.</p> +<p>He grew to marvel at the simplicity and purity of Mary-Clare’s +point of view. He knew that she must have gone +through some gross experiences with a man like Rivers, but +they had left her singularly untouched.</p> +<p>But, while Northrup, believing himself shielded from the +woman near him, permitted his imagination full play, Mary-Clare +drew her own conclusions. She accepted Northrup +without question as far as he personally was concerned. He +was making her life rich and full, but he would soon pass; +become a memory to brighten the cold, dark years ahead, +just as the memory of the old doctor had done: would always +do.</p> +<p>Desperately Mary-Clare clung to this thought, and reinforced +by it referred constantly to her own position as if to +convince Northrup of perfect understanding of their relations.</p> +<p>But the book! That was another matter. In that she felt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +she dared contemplate the real nature of Northrup. She believed +he was unconsciously revealing himself, and with that +keenness of perception that Northrup had detected, she +threshed the false notes from the true and, while hesitating +to express herself––for she was timid and naturally distrustful +of herself––she was being prepared for an hour when her best +would be demanded of her.</p> +<p>Silently Mary-Clare would sit and listen while Northrup +read. Without explanation, the children had been eliminated +and, if the day was too cool to sit by the trail side, they +would walk side by side, the crushed leaves making a soft +carpet for their feet; the falling leaves touching them gently +as they were brushed from their slight holdings.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare had suddenly abandoned her rough boyish +garb. She was sweet and womanly in her plain little gown––and +a long coat whose high collar rose around her grave face. +She wore no hat and the light and shade did marvellous +things to her hair. There were times when Northrup could +not take his eyes from that shining head.</p> +<p>“Why are you stopping?” Mary-Clare would ask at such +lapses.</p> +<p>“My writing is diabolical!” Northrup lied.</p> +<p>“Oh! I’m sorry. The stops give me a jog. Go on.”</p> +<p>And Northrup would go on!</p> +<p>Without fully being aware of it, until the thing was done, +Mary-Clare got vividly into the story.</p> +<p>And Northrup was doing some good, some daring work. +His man, born from his own doubts, aspirations, and cravings, +was a live and often a blundering creature who could not +be disregarded. He was safe enough, but it was the woman +who now gave trouble.</p> +<p>Northrup saw, with fear and trembling, that he had drawn +her, so he devoutly believed, so close to reality that he felt +that Mary-Clare would discover her at once and resent the +impertinence. But he need not have held any such thought. +Mary-Clare was far too impersonal; far too absorbed a nature +to be largely concerned with herself, and Northrup had failed +absolutely in his deductions, as he was soon to learn.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span></div> +<p>What Mary-Clare did see in Northrup’s heroine was a +maddening possibility that he was letting slip through his +fingers. At first this puzzled her; pained her. She was still +timid about expressing her feeling. But so strong was Northrup’s +touch in most of his work that at last he drove his quiet, +silent critic from her moorings. She asked that she might +have a copy of a certain part of the book.</p> +<p>“I want to think it out with my woman-brain,” she laughingly +explained. “When you read right at this spot––well, +you see, it doesn’t seem clear. When I have thought it out +alone, then I will tell you and be––oh! very bold.”</p> +<p>And Northrup had complied.</p> +<p>He had blazed for himself, some time before, a roundabout +trail through the briery underbrush from the inn to within a +few hundred feet of the cabin. Often he watched from this +hidden limit. He saw the smoke rise from the chimney; +once or twice he caught a glimpse of Mary-Clare sitting at the +rough table, and, after she had taken those chapters away, he +knew they were being read there.</p> +<p>Alone, waiting, expecting he knew not what, Northrup +became alarmingly aware that Mary-Clare had got a tremendous +hold upon him. The knowledge was almost staggering. +He had felt so sure; had risked so much.</p> +<p>He could not deceive himself any longer. Like other men, +he had played with fire and had been burnt. “But,” he +devoutly thought, “thank God, I have started no conflagration.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI' id='CHAPTER_XI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> +<p>There had been five days in which to face a rather +ugly and bald fact before Northrup again saw Mary-Clare. +He had employed the time, he tried to make +himself believe, wisely, sanely.</p> +<p>He had spent a good portion of it at the Point. He had +irritated Larry beyond endurance by friendly overtures. +In an effort to be just, he tried to include Rivers in his reconstruction. +The truth, he sternly believed, would never be +known, but if it were, certainly Rivers might have something +to say for himself, and with humiliation Northrup regarded +himself “as other men.” He had never, thank heaven! +looked upon himself as better than other men, but he had +thought his struggle, early in life, his unhappy parenthood, +and later devotion to his work, had set him apart from the +general temptations of many young men and had given him +a distaste for follies that could hold no suggestion of mystery +for him.</p> +<p>Well, Fate had merely bided its time.</p> +<p>With every reason for escaping a pitfall, he had floundered +in. “Like other men?” Northrup sneered at himself. No +other man could be such a consummate fool, knowing what +he knew.</p> +<p>Viewed from this position, Larry was not as contemptible +as he had once appeared.</p> +<p>But Rivers resented Northrup’s advances, putting the +lowest interpretation upon them. In this he was upheld by +Maclin, who was growing restive under the tension that did +not break, but stretched endlessly on.</p> +<p>Northrup resolved to see Mary-Clare once more and then +go home. He would make sure that the fire he himself was +scorched by had not touched her. After that he would turn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +his back upon the golden selah in his life and return to his +niche in the wall.</p> +<p>This brought his mother and Kathryn into the line of +vision. How utterly he had betrayed their confidence! +His whole life, from now on, should be devoted to their +service. Doubtless to other men, like himself, there were +women who were never forgotten, but that must not blot +out reality.</p> +<p>And then Northrup considered the task of unearthing +Maclin’s secrets, and ridding the Forest of that subtle fear +and distrust that the man created. That was, however, too +big an undertaking now. He must get Twombley to watch +and report. Northrup had a great respect for Twombley’s +powers of observation.</p> +<p>And so the time on the Point had been put to some purpose, +and it had occupied Northrup. Noreen and Jan-an +had helped, too. It was rather tragic the way Northrup had +grown to feel about Noreen. The child had developed his +latent love for children––they had never figured in his life +before. So much had been left out, now that he came to +think of it!</p> +<p>And Jan-an. Poor groping creature! To have gained +her affection and trust meant a great deal.</p> +<p>Then the Heathcotes! Polly and Peter! During those +five distraught days they developed halos in Northrup’s +imagination.</p> +<p>They had taken him in, a stranger. They had fathered +and mothered him; staunchly and silently stood by him. +What if they knew?</p> +<p>They must never know! He would make sure of that.</p> +<p>In this frame of mind, chastened and determined, Northrup +on the fifth day took his place behind the laurel clump back +of Mary-Clare’s cabin, and to his relief saw her coming out +of the door. His manuscript was not in her hands, but her +face had an uplifted and luminous look that set his heart to a +quicker pulsing.</p> +<p>After a decent length of time, Northrup, whistling carelessly, +scruffing the dead leaves noiselessly, followed on and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +overtook Mary-Clare near the log upon which they had sat +at their last meeting.</p> +<p>The quaint poise and dignity of the girl was the first impression +Northrup always got. He had never quite grown +accustomed to it; it was like a challenge––his impulse was to +test it. It threatened his exalted state now.</p> +<p>“It’s quite mysterious, isn’t it?”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare sat down on her end of the log and looked up, +her eyes twinkling.</p> +<p>“What is mysterious?” Northrup took his place. The +log was not a long one.</p> +<p>“The way we manage to meet.”</p> +<p>She was setting him at a safe distance in that old way of +hers that somehow made her seem so young.</p> +<p>It irritated Northrup now as it never had before.</p> +<p>He had prepared himself for an ordeal, was keyed to a +high note, and the quiet, smiling girl near him made it all +seem a farce.</p> +<p>This was dangerous. Northrup relaxed.</p> +<p>“It’s been nearly a week since I saw you,” he said, and let +his eyes rest upon Mary-Clare’s face.</p> +<p>“Yes, nearly a week,” she said softly, “but it took me all +that time to make up my mind.”</p> +<p>“About what?”</p> +<p>“Your book.”</p> +<p>Northrup had forgotten, for the moment, his book, and +he resented its introduction.</p> +<p>“Damn the book!” he thought. Aloud he said: “Of course! +You were going to tell me where I have fallen down.”</p> +<p>“I hope you are not making a joke of it”––Mary-Clare’s +face flushed––“but even if you are, I am going to tell you +what I think. I must, you know.”</p> +<p>“That’s awfully good of you”––Northrup became earnest––“but +it doesn’t matter now, I am going away. Let us talk +of something else.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare took this in silence. The only evidence of +her surprise showed in the higher touch of colour that rose, +then died out, leaving her almost pale.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></div> +<p>“Then, there is all the more reason why I must tell you +what I think,” she said at last.</p> +<p>The words came like sharp detached particles; they hurt.</p> +<p>“We must talk about the book!”</p> +<p>And Northrup suddenly caught the truth. The book was +their common language. Only through that could they +reach each other, understandingly.</p> +<p>“All right!” he murmured, and turned his face away.</p> +<p>“It’s your woman,” Mary-Clare began with a sharp catching +of her breath as if she had been running. “Your woman +is not real.”</p> +<p>Northrup flushed. He was foolishly and suddenly angry. +If the book must be brought in, he would defend it. It was +all that was left to him of this detached interlude of his +life. He meant to keep it. It was one thing to live along in +his story and daringly see how close he could come to revealment +with the keen-witted girl who had inspired him, but +quite another, now that he was going, beaten from the field, +to have the book, <i>as</i> a book, assailed. As to books, he knew +his business!</p> +<p>“You put <i>your</i> words in your woman’s mouth,” Mary-Clare +was saying.</p> +<p>“And whose words, pray, should I put there?” Northrup +asked huskily.</p> +<p>“You must let her speak for herself.”</p> +<p>“Good Lord!”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare did not notice the interruption. She was +doing battle for more than Northrup guessed. She hoped +he would never know the truth, but the battle must be +fought if all the beautiful weeks of joy were to be saved for +the future. The idealism that the old doctor had desperately +hoped might save, not destroy, Mary-Clare was to prove itself +now.</p> +<p>“There are so many endings in life, that it is hard, in a +book, to choose just one. Why should there be an end to a +book?” she asked.</p> +<p>The question came falteringly and Northrup almost +laughed.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></div> +<p>“Go on, please,” he said quietly. “You think I’ve ended +my woman by letting her do what any woman in real life +would do?”</p> +<p>“All women would not do what your woman does. Such +women end men!”</p> +<p>This was audacious, but it caught Northrup’s imagination.</p> +<p>“Go on,” he muttered lamely.</p> +<p>“Do you think love is everything to a woman?” Mary-Clare +demanded ferociously.</p> +<p>“It is the biggest thing!” Northrup was up in arms to +defend his code and his work.</p> +<p>“You think it could wipe out honour, all the things that +meant honour to her?”</p> +<p>“Love conquers everything for a woman.”</p> +<p>“Does it for a man?”</p> +<p>Northrup tried to fling out the affirmative, but he hedged.</p> +<p>“Largely, yes.”</p> +<p>“I do not think that. There are some things bigger to +him. Maybe not bigger, but things that he would choose +instead of love, if he had to. It is what you <i>do</i> to love +that matters. If you come and take it when you haven’t +a right to it; when you’d be stealing it; letting other sacred +things go for it––then you would be killing love. But if you +honour it, even if it is lonely and often sad, it lives and lives +and–––”</p> +<p>The universe, at that momentous instant, seemed to +rock and tremble. Everything was swept aside as by a +Force that but bided its hour and had taken absolute control.</p> +<p>Northrup was never able to connect the two edges of conscious +thought that were riven apart by the blinding stroke +that left him and Mary-Clare in that space where their souls +met. But, thank God, the Force was not evil; it was but +revealing.</p> +<p>Northrup drew Mary-Clare to her feet and held her little +work-worn hands close.</p> +<p>“You are crying––suffering,” he whispered.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></div> +<p>“And–––”</p> +<p>“Oh! please wait”––the deep sobs shook the girl––“you +must wait. I’ll try to––to make you see. I was awake that +night at the inn––that is why I––trust you now! Why I want +you to––to understand.”</p> +<p>She seemed pleading with him––it made him wince; she +was calling forth his best to help her weakest.</p> +<p>“Your book”––Mary-Clare gripped that again––“your +book is a beautiful, live thing––we must keep it so! Your +man has grown and grown through every page until he quite +naturally believed he was able to––to do more than any +man can ever do! Why, this is your chance to be different, +stronger.” The quick, panting words ran into each other +and then Mary-Clare controlled them while, unheeded, the +tears rolled down her cheeks. “You must let your woman +<i>act</i> for herself! She, too, must learn and know. She made a +horrible mistake from <i>not</i> knowing and seeing the first man; +no love can help her by taking the solution from her. She +must be free––free and begin again. If it is right–––”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mary-Clare. If it is right, what then?”</p> +<p>Everything seemed to wait upon the answer. The scurrying +wood creatures and the dropping of dead leaves alone +broke the silence. Slowly, like one coming into consciousness, +Mary-Clare drew one hand from Northrup’s, wiped her eyes, +and then––let it fall again into his!</p> +<p>“I can see clearer now,” she faltered. “Please, please +try to understand. It is because love means so much to some +women, that when they think it out with their women-minds +they will be very careful of it. They will feel about it as +men do about their honour. There must be times when love +must stand aside if they want to keep it! I know how queer +and crooked all this must sound, but men do not stop loving if +their honour makes them turn from it. We are all, men and +women, too, <i>parts</i>––we cannot act as if––oh! you do understand, +I know you do, and some day you will go on with your +beautiful book.”</p> +<p>“And the end of my book, Mary-Clare? There must be +an end.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></div> +<p>“I do not know. I do not think a great big book ever +ends any more than life ends.”</p> +<p>Northrup was swept from his hard-wrought position at +this. The next wave of emotion might carry him higher, +but for the moment he was drifting, drifting.</p> +<p>“You do not know life, nor men, nor women,” he said +huskily and clutched her hands in his. “If life cheats and +injures you, you have a right to snatch what joy you can. +It’s not only what you do to love, but what you do to yourself, +that counts. For real love can stand anything.”</p> +<p>“No, it cannot!” Mary-Clare tried to draw away, but she +felt the hold tighten on her hands; “it cannot stand dishonour. +That’s what kills it.”</p> +<p>“Dishonour! What <i>is</i> dishonour?” Northrup asked bitterly. +“I’m going to prove as far as I can, in my book, that +the right kind of man and woman with a big enough love +can throttle life; cheat the cheater.” This came defiantly.</p> +<p>But the book no longer served its purpose; it seemed to +fall at the feet of the man and woman, standing with clasped +hands and hungry, desperate eyes.</p> +<p>The words that might have changed their lives were never +spoken, for, down the trail gaily, joyously, came the sound of +Noreen’s voice, shrilly singing one of the songs Northrup had +taught her.</p> +<p>“That’s what I mean by honour,” Mary-Clare whispered. +“Noreen and all that she is! You, you <i>do</i> understand about +some women, don’t you? You will help, not hurt, such +women, won’t you?”</p> +<p>“For God’s sake, Mary-Clare, don’t!”</p> +<p>Northrup bent and touched his lips to the small work-stained +hands. The song down the trail rose joyously.</p> +<p>“I have thought of you”––Mary-Clare was catching her +breath sharply––“as Noreen has––a man brought by the +haunted wind. It has all been like a wonderful play. I have +not thought of the place where you belong, but I know there +are those in that place who are like Noreen.”</p> +<p>“Yes!” Northrup shivered and flinched as a cold, wet +leaf fell upon his hands and Mary-Clare’s.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></div> +<p>“The wind is changing,” said the woman. “The lovely +autumn has been kind and has stayed long.”</p> +<p>“My dear, my dear––don’t!” Northrup pleaded.</p> +<p>“Oh! but I must. You see I want you to think back, +as I shall––at all this as great happiness. Come, let us +go down the trail. I want you to tell me about your city, +the place where you belong! I must picture you there +now.”</p> +<p>Northrup kept the small right hand in his as they turned. +It was a cold hand and it trembled in his grasp, but there +was a steel-like quality in it, too.</p> +<p>It was tragic, this strength of the girl who had drawn her +understanding of life from hidden sources. Northrup knew +that she was seeking to smooth his way on ahead; to take the +bitterness from a memory that, without her sacrifice, might +hold him back from what had been, was, and must always +be, inevitable. She was ignoring the weak, tempted moment +and linking the past with all that the future must hold +for them both.</p> +<p>There was only the crude, simple course for him to follow––to +accept the commonplace, turn and face life as one turns +from a grave that hides a beautiful thing.</p> +<p>“You have never been to the city?”</p> +<p>There was nothing to do but resort to words. Superficial, +foolish words.</p> +<p>“Yes, once. On my wedding trip.”</p> +<p>This was unfortunate, but words without thought are wild +things.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare hurried along while visions of Larry’s city +rose like smiting rebukes to her heedlessness. Cheap theatres, +noisy restaurants, gaudy lights.</p> +<p>“My dear doctor and I always planned going together,” +she said brokenly. “I believe there are many cities in the +city. One has to find his city for himself.”</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s exactly what one does.” Northrup closed his +hand closer over the dead-cold one in his grasp.</p> +<p>“Your city, it must be wonderful.”</p> +<p>“It will be a haunted city, Mary-Clare.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></div> +<p>“Tell me about it. And tell me a little, if you don’t mind, +about your people.”</p> +<p>The bravery was almost heart-breaking, it caused Northrup’s +lips to set grimly.</p> +<p>“There is my mother,” he replied.</p> +<p>“I’m glad. You love her very much?”</p> +<p>“Very much. She’s wonderful. My father died long +ago.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare did not ask whether he loved his father or not, +and she hurried on:</p> +<p>“And now, when I try to think of you in your city, at +your work, just how shall I think of you? Make it like a +picture.”</p> +<p>Northrup struggled with himself. The girl beside him, in +pushing him from her life, was so unutterably sweet and +brave.</p> +<p>“My dear, my dear!” he whispered, and remorse, pity, +yearning rang in the words.</p> +<p>“Make it like a picture!” Relentlessly the words were +repeated. They demanded that he give his best.</p> +<p>“Think of a high little room in a tall tower overlooking +all cities,” he began slowly, “the cheap, the beautiful, the +glad, and the sad. The steam and smoke roll up and seem +to make a gauzy path upon which all that really matters +comes and goes as one sits and watches.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare’s eyes were wide and vision-filled.</p> +<p>“Oh! thank you,” she whispered. “I shall always see it +and you so. And sometimes, maybe when the sun is going +down, as it is now, you will see me on that trail that is just +yours, in your city coming to––to wish you well!”</p> +<p>“Good God!” Northrup shook himself. “What’s got us +two? We’ve worked ourselves into a pretty state. Talking +as, as if––Mary-Clare, I’m not going away. There will be +other days. It’s that book of mine. Hang it! We’ve got +snarled in the book.”</p> +<p>The weak efforts to ignore everything failed pitifully.</p> +<p>“No, it is life.” Mary-Clare grew grim as Northrup +relaxed. “But I want you always to remember my old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +doctor’s rule. If a thing is going to kill you, die bravely; if it +isn’t, get over it at once and live the best you can.”</p> +<p>“God bless and keep you, Mary-Clare.” Absolute surrender +marked the tone.</p> +<p>“He will!”</p> +<p>“But this is not good-bye!”</p> +<p>“No, it is not good-bye.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII' id='CHAPTER_XII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> +<p>While the days were passing and Mary-Clare and +Northrup, with the book between them as a shield, +fought their battle and won their victory, they had +taken small heed of the undercurrent that was not merely +carrying them on, but bearing others, also.</p> +<p>Northrup was comfortably conscious of Aunt Polly and old +Peter, at the days’ ends. The sense of going home to them +was distinctly a joy, a fitting and safe interlude.</p> +<p>Noreen and Jan-an supplied the light-comedy touch, for the +two were capable of supplying no end of fun when there were +hours that could not be utilized in work or devoted to that +thrilling occupation of walking the trails with Mary-Clare.</p> +<p>The real, sordid tragedy element played small part in the +autumn idyl, but it was developing none the less.</p> +<p>Larry on the Point was showing more patient persistence +than one could have expected. He went about Maclin’s +business with his usual reticence and devotion; occasionally +he was away for a few days; when he was at home in Peneluna’s +shack he was a quiet, rather pathetic figure of a man +at loose ends, but casting no slurs. It was that pacific +attitude of his that got on the nerves of his doubters and +those who believed they understood him.</p> +<p>Peneluna, torn between her loyalty to Mary-Clare and the +decency she felt called upon to show the old doctor’s son, was +becoming irritable and jerky. Jan-an shrank from her and +whimpered:</p> +<p>“What have I done? Ain’t I fetching and carrying for +him?”––she nodded heavily toward Larry’s abiding place. +“Ain’t I watching and telling yer all that he does? Writing +and tearing up what he writes! Ain’t I showing you his +scraps what don’t get burned? Ain’t I acting square?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></div> +<p>Peneluna softened.</p> +<p>“Yes, you are!” she admitted. “But I declare, after +finding nothing agin him, one gets to wondering if there <i>is</i> +anything agin him. I don’t like suspecting my feller +creatures.”</p> +<p>“Suspectin’ ain’t like murdering!” Jan-an blurted out.</p> +<p>“If you don’t stop talking like that, Jan-an–––” But +Peneluna paused, for she saw the frightened look creeping +into Jan-an’s dull eyes.</p> +<p>It was while the Point was agitated about Larry that +Twombley brought forth his gun and took to cleaning it and +fondling it by his doorway. This action of Twombley’s +fascinated Jan-an.</p> +<p>“What yer going to shoot?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Ducks, maybe.” Twombley leered pleasantly.</p> +<p>“I wish yer wouldn’t.”</p> +<p>“Why, Jan-an?”</p> +<p>“Ducks ain’t so used to it as chickens. I hate to see +flying things as <i>can</i> fly popped over.”</p> +<p>At this Twombley laughed aloud.</p> +<p>“All right, girl, I’ll hunt up something else to aim at––something +that’s used to it. I ain’t saying I’ll hit anything, +but aimin’ and finding out how steady yer hand is ain’t +lacking in sport.”</p> +<p>So Twombley erected a target and enlivened and startled +the Point by his practise. Maclin, after a few weeks of +absence from the Point, called occasionally on his private +agent and he was displeased by Twombley’s new amusement.</p> +<p>“What in thunder are you up to?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Not much––yet!” Twombley admitted. “Don’t hit the +hole more than once out of four.”</p> +<p>“But the noise is bad for folks, Twombley.”</p> +<p>“They like it,” Twombley broke in. “Makes ’em jump +and know they’re alive. It’s like fleas on dogs.”</p> +<p>“When I’m talking business with Rivers,” Twombley +insisted, “I hate the racket.”</p> +<p>“All right, when I see you there, I’ll hold off.”</p> +<p>But Maclin did not want always to be seen at the shack. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +It was one thing to stroll down to the Point, now and again, +with that air of having made mistakes in the past and greeting +the Pointers pleasantly, and quite another to find out, +secretly, just what progress Larry was making in his interests +and knowing what Larry was doing with his long days +and nights.</p> +<p>So, after a fortnight of consideration, Maclin walked +with Rivers from the mines one night determined to spend +several hours in the shack and “use his eyes.” Larry did not +seem particularly pleased with this intention and paused +several times on the rough, dusky road, giving Maclin an +opportunity to bid him good-night. But Maclin stuck like +the little brown devil-pitchforks that decorated the trousers +of both men as they strode on the woodside of the road.</p> +<p>“I’m like a rat in a hole,” Larry confided, despairing of +shaking Maclin off. “I wish to God you’d send me away +somewhere––overseas, if you can. You once promised +that.”</p> +<p>Maclin’s eyes contracted, but it was too dark for Rivers +to notice.</p> +<p>“Too late, just now, Rivers. That hell of a time they’re +having over there keeps peaceful folks to their own waters.”</p> +<p>“Sometimes”––Larry grew moody––“I’ve thought I’d like +to tumble into that mess and either–––”</p> +<p>“What?” Abruptly Maclin caught Rivers up.</p> +<p>“Oh! go under or––come to the top.” This was to laugh––so +both men laughed.</p> +<p>Laughing and talking in undertones, they came to the dark +shack and Larry, irritated at his inability to drop Maclin, +unlocked the door and went in, followed by his unwelcome +guest.</p> +<p>“What in thunder do you lock this old rookery up for?” +Maclin asked, stumbling over a chair.</p> +<p>“I’ve got a notion lately that folks peep and pry. I’ve +seen footprints around the house.”</p> +<p>“Well, why shouldn’t they pry and tramp about? The +Point’s getting dippy. And that blasted gun of Twombley’s! +See here, Rivers!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></div> +<p>By this time Larry had lighted the smelly lamp and closed +the door and locked it.</p> +<p>“You’re getting nervous and twisted, Rivers.”</p> +<p>The two sat down by the paper-strewn table.</p> +<p>“Well, who wouldn’t?” snapped Rivers. “Hiding in this +junk, knowing that your wife–––” he paused abruptly, +but Maclin nodded sympathetically. “It’s hell, Maclin.”</p> +<p>“Sure! Got anything to drink?”</p> +<p>Larry went to the closet and brought out a bottle and +glasses.</p> +<p>“This helps!” Maclin said, pouring out the best brand +from the Cosey.</p> +<p>The men drained their glasses and became, after a few +minutes, more cheerful. Maclin stretched out his legs––he +had to do this in order to adjust his fat and put his hands in +his pockets.</p> +<p>“Larry, I want to tell you that you won’t have to hide in +your hole much longer. I’m one too many for that fellow +Northrup. I hold the cards now.”</p> +<p>“The devil you do!” Rivers’s eyes brightened.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. He wants the Point, old man, and the Heathcotes +gave him the knowledge that your wife owns it. He’s +getting her where he can handle her. Damn shame, I say––using +a woman and taking advantage of her weak side. +If we don’t act spry he’ll get what he wants.”</p> +<p>Larry’s face flushed a purple-red.</p> +<p>“What do you mean, Maclin? Talk out straight and +clear.”</p> +<p>“Well, I weigh it this way and that. Northrup might––I +hate to use brutal terms––he might compromise your wife +and get her to sell and shut him up, or he might get her so +bedazzled that she’d feel real set up to negotiate with him. +A man like Northrup is pretty flattering to a woman like +your wife, Rivers. You see, she’s carrying such a big cargo +of learning and fancy rot that she can’t properly sail. That +kind gets stranded <i>always</i>, Larry. They just naturally <i>make</i> +for rocks.”</p> +<p>Larry had a sensation of choking and loosened his collar, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +then he surprised Maclin by turning and lighting a fire in +the stove before he further surprised him by asking, with +dangerous calmness:</p> +<p>“What in all that’s holy do you––this Northrup––any one, +want this damned Point for?”</p> +<p>Maclin was rarely in a position to fence with Rivers, but +he was now.</p> +<p>“Larry, old man, did you ever have in your life an ideal, +or what stands for it, that you would work for, and suffer for?”</p> +<p>“No!” Rivers could not stand delay.</p> +<p>“Well, I have, Larry. I’m an old sentimentalist, when +you know me proper. I took a fancy to you, and while I +can’t show my feelings as many can, I have stood by you +and you’ve been a proposition, off and on. I bought those +mines because I saw the chance they offered, and I shared +with you. I’ve got big men interested. I’ve let you carry +results to them––but the results are slow, Rivers, and they’re +getting restive. I’m afraid some one of them has blabbed +and this Northrup is the result. Why, man, I’ve got inventions +over at the mines that will revolutionize this rotten, +lazy Forest. I wanted to win the folks––but they wouldn’t +be won. I wanted to save them in spite of themselves, but +damn ’em, they won’t be saved. In a year I could make +Heathcote a rich man, if he’d wake up and <i>keep</i> an inn instead +of a kennel. But I’ve got to have this Point. I want +to build a bridge from here to the railroad property on the +other shore––this is the narrowest part of the lake; I want +to build cottages here, instead of––of rat holes. I’ve got +to get this Point by hook or crook––and I can’t shilly-shally +with this Northrup on to the game.”</p> +<p>Suddenly, while he was talking, Maclin’s eyes fell upon +the untidy mass of papers on the table. He pulled his fat +hands out of his tight pockets and let them fall like paperweights +on the envelopes and sheets.</p> +<p>“What are these?” he asked.</p> +<p>Larry started guiltily.</p> +<p>“Old letters,” he said.</p> +<p>“What you doing with them?” As he spoke Maclin was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +sorting and arranging the papers––the old he put to one side; +the newer ones on the other. Some of the new ones were +astonishingly good copies of the old!</p> +<p>“Playing the old game, eh?” Maclin scowled. “I thought +you’d had enough of that, after–––”</p> +<p>“For God’s sake, Maclin, shut up.”</p> +<p>“Been carrying these mementos around with you all these +years?”</p> +<p>Maclin was reading a letter of Larry’s father––an old one.</p> +<p>“No, I brought them with me from the old house. Mary-Clare +had them, but they were mine.” Larry’s face was +white and set into hard lines.</p> +<p>“Sure, so I see.” And Maclin was seeing a great deal.</p> +<p>He saw that Rivers had torn off, where it was possible, +half pages from the old and yellowed letters; these were carefully +banded together, while on fresh sheets of paper, the +old letters in part, or in whole, were cleverly copied.</p> +<p>There was one yellowed half sheet in the old doctor’s +handwriting bearing a new form of expression––there was no +original of this. Maclin made sure of that. He read this +new form once, twice, three times.</p> +<p>“If the time should ever come, my girl, when you and +Larry could not agree, he’ll give you this letter. It is all I +could do for him; it will prove that I trust you, at every turn, +to do the right and just thing. Stand by Larry, as I have +done.”</p> +<p>Maclin puffed out his cheeks. They looked like a child’s +red balloon. “What in hell!” he ejaculated.</p> +<p>Larry’s face was gray. Guilt is always quick to hold up +its hands when it thinks the enemy has the drop on it.</p> +<p>“Can’t you understand?” he whispered through dry lips. +“I want to outwit them. I’m as keen as you, Maclin, and +I’m working for you, old man, working for you! I was going +to take this to her––she’ll do anything when she reads that––and +I was going to tell her why the old man stood by me. +That would shut her mouth and make her pay.”</p> +<p>There is in the shield of every man a weak spot. There +was one in the shield of Maclin’s brutal villainy. For a moment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +he felt positively virtuous; perhaps the sensation proved +the embryo virtue in all.</p> +<p>“Are any of these things real?” he asked with a rough +catch in his voice; “and don’t lie to me––it wouldn’t be +healthy.”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“You got your wife by letting her think your old father +wanted it, wrote about it?”</p> +<p>“Yes. I had to outwit them some way. I was just free +and couldn’t choose. They had no right to cut me out.”</p> +<p>“Well, by God, you <i>are</i> a rotter, Rivers.” The lines +at which criminals balk are confusing. “And she never +guessed?”</p> +<p>“No, she’d never seen Father’s writing in letters.”</p> +<p>Then Maclin’s outraged virtue took a curious turn.</p> +<p>“And you never cared for her after you got her?”</p> +<p>“I might have if she’d been the right sort––but she’s as +hard as flint, Maclin. A man can’t stand her sort and keep +his own self-respect.”</p> +<p>Maclin indulged in a weak laugh at this and Larry’s face +burned.</p> +<p>“I might have gone straight if she’d been square, but she +wasn’t. A man can’t put up with her type. And now––well! +She ought to pay now.”</p> +<p>Maclin was gripping the loose sheets in his fat, greasy +hands.</p> +<p>“Hold on there.” Larry pointed. “You’re getting them +creased and dirty!”</p> +<p>Again Maclin laughed.</p> +<p>“I’ll leave enough copy,” he muttered. Then he fixed his +little eyes on his prey while his fat neck wrinkled in the back. +His emotion of virtue flickered and died, he was the alert +man of business once more. “I told you after you got out +of prison, Rivers, that I’d never stand for any more of that +counterfeiting stuff. It’s too risky, and the talent can be put +to better purpose. I’ve stood by you, I like you, and I need +you. When we all pony up you’ll get your share––I mean +when we build up the Forest, you’ll have a fat berth, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +you’ve got to play a card now for me and play it damn quick. +Here, take this gem of yours”––he tossed Larry’s latest +production to him––“and go to your wife to-morrow, and +tell her why your old man stood by you; shut her mouth +with that choice bit and then tell her––you want the Point! +You’ve got her cornered, Rivers. She can’t escape. If she +tries to, hurl Northrup at her.”</p> +<p>Larry wiped his lips with his hot hand.</p> +<p>“I haven’t quite finished this,” he muttered; “it will take +a day or two.”</p> +<p>“Rivers, if you try any funny work on me–––” Maclin +looked dangerous. He felt the fear that comes from not +trusting those he must use.</p> +<p>“I’m not going to double-cross you, Maclin.”</p> +<p>“Here, take a nifter.” Maclin pushed the bottle toward +Rivers. “You look all in,” he ventured.</p> +<p>“I am, just about.”</p> +<p>“Well, after this piece of business, I’ll send you off for +as long as you want to stay. You need a change.”</p> +<p>Larry revived after a moment or two and some colour crept +into his cheeks.</p> +<p>“I’m going now,” Maclin said, getting up and releasing the +tools of Larry’s trade. “Better get a good night’s rest and +be fresh for to-morrow. A day or so won’t count, so long as +we understand the game. Good-night!”</p> +<p>Outside in the darkness Maclin stood still and listened. +His iron nerves were shaken and he had his moment of far +vision. If he succeeded––well! at that thought Maclin felt +his blood run riotously in his veins. Glory! Glory! His +name ringing out into fame.</p> +<p>But!––the cold sweat broke over the fat man standing in +the dark. Still, he would not have been the man he was +if he permitted doubt to linger. He <i>must</i> succeed. Right +was back of him; with him. Unyielding Right. It must +succeed.</p> +<p>Maclin strode on, picking his way over the ash heaps and +broken bottles. A pale moon was trying to make itself +evident, but piles of black clouds defeated it at every attempt. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +The wind was changing. From afar the chapel bell struck +its warning. It rang wildly, gleefully, then sank into silence +only to begin once more. Seeking, seeking a quarter in which +it might rest.</p> +<p>Maclin, head down, plunged into the night and reached the +road to the mines. He saw to it that the road was so bad +that no one would use it except from necessity, but he cursed +it now. He all but fell several times, he thanked God––God +indeed!––when the lights of the Cosey Bar came in sight.</p> +<p>He did not often drink of his public whiskey, or drink +with his foreigners, but he chose to do so to-night. His men +welcomed him thickly––they had been wallowing in beer for +hours; the man at the bar drew forth a bottle of whiskey––he +knew Maclin rarely drank beer.</p> +<p>An hour later, Maclin, master of the place and the men, +was talking slowly, encouragingly, in a tongue that they all +understood. Their dull eyes brightened; their heavy faces +twitched under excitement that amounted to inspiration. +Now and again they raised their mugs aloft and muttered +something that sounded strangely like prayer.</p> +<p>Dominated by a man and an emotion they were, not the +drudging machines of the mines, but a vital force ready for +action.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII' id='CHAPTER_XIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> +<p>Northrup decided to turn back at once to his own +place in life after that revealing afternoon with Mary-Clare. +He was not in any sense deceived by conditions. +He had, after twenty-four hours, been able to classify +the situation and reduce it to its proper proportions. As it +stood, it had, he acknowledged, been saved by the rare and +unusual qualities of Mary-Clare. But it could not bear +the stress and strain of repeated tests. Unless he meant to +be a fool and fill his future with remorse, for he was decent +and sane, he could do nothing but go away and let the incidents +of King’s Forest bear sanctifying fruits, not draughts +of wormwood.</p> +<p>Something rather big had happened to him––he must not +permit it to become small. He recalled Mary-Clare’s words +and face and a great tenderness swept over him.</p> +<p>“Poor little girl,” he thought, “part of a commonplace, +dingy tragedy. What is there for her? But what could I +have done for her, in God’s name, to better her lot? She +saw it clear enough.”</p> +<p>No, there was nothing to do but turn his back on the whole +thing and go home! Shorn of the spiritual and uplifting +qualities, the situation was bald and dangerous. He must +be practical and wise, but deciding to leave and actually +leaving were different matters.</p> +<p>The weather jeered at him by its glorious warmth and +colour. It <i>held</i> day after day with occasional sharp storms +that ended in greater beauty. The thought of the city made +Northrup shudder. He tried to work: it was still warm +enough in the deserted chapel to write, but he knew that he +was accomplishing nothing. There was a gap in the story––the +woman part. Every time Northrup came to that he felt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +as if he were laying a wet cloth over the soft clay until he had +time finally to mould it. And he kept from any chance of +meeting Mary-Clare.</p> +<p>“I’ll wait until this marvellous spell of weather breaks,” +he compromised with his lesser––or better––self. “Then I’ll +beat it!”</p> +<p>Looking to this he asked Uncle Peter what the chances +were of a cold spell.</p> +<p>“There was a time”––Peter sniffed the air. He was +husking golden corn by the kitchen fire––“when I could calculate +about the weather, but since the weather man has got +to meddling he’s messed things considerable. He’s put in +the Middle States, and what-not, until it’s like doing subtraction +and division––and by that time the change of weather +is on you.”</p> +<p>Northrup laughed.</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, getting up and stretching, “I think I’ll +take a turn before I go to bed. Bank the fire, Uncle Peter; +I may prowl late.”</p> +<p>Heathcote asked no questions, but those prowls of Northrup’s +were putting his simple faith to severe tests. Peter was +above gossip, but when it swirled too near him he was bound +to watch out.</p> +<p>“All right, son,” he muttered, and ran his hand through his +bristling hair.</p> +<p>The night was a dark one. A soft darkness it was, that +held no wind and only a hint of frost. Stepping quickly +along the edge of the lake, Northrup felt that he was being +absorbed by the still shadows and the sensation pleased and +comforted him. He was not aware of thought, but thought +was taking him into control, as the night was. There would +be moments of seeming blank and then a conclusion! A +vivid, final conclusion. Of course Mary-Clare occupied +these moments of seeming mental inaction. Northrup now +wanted to set her free from––what?</p> +<p>“That young beast of a husband!” So much for that conclusion. +If the end had come between him and Mary-Clare, +Northrup wondered if he could free her from Rivers.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></div> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>This brought a hurtling mass of conclusions.</p> +<p>“No man has a right to get a stranglehold on a woman. +If she has, as the old darkey said, lost her taste for him, +why in thunder should he want to cram himself down her +throat?”</p> +<p>This was more common sense than moral or legal, and +Northrup bent his head and plunged along. He walked on, +believing that he was master of his soul and his actions at +last, while, in reality, he was but part of the Scheme of +Things and was acting under orders.</p> +<p>Presently, he imagined that he had decided all along to +go to the Point and have a talk with Twombley. So he kept +straight ahead.</p> +<p>Twombley delighted his idle hours. The man, apparently, +never went to bed until daylight, and his quaint unmorality +was as diverting as that of an impish boy.</p> +<p>“Now, sir,” he had confided to Northrup at a recent meeting, +“there’s Peneluna Sniff. Good cook; good manager. +I held off while she played up to old Sniff, women <i>are</i> curious! +But now that woman ought to be utilized legitimate-like. +She’s running to waste and throwing away her talents on +that young Rivers as is giving this here Point the creeps. +Peneluna and me together could find things out!”</p> +<p>Northrup, hurrying on, believed there was no better way +to drive off the blue devils that were torturing him than to +pass the evening with Twombley.</p> +<p>Just then he heard quick, light footsteps coming toward +him. He hid behind some bushes by the path and waited.</p> +<p>The oncomer was Larry Rivers on his way from the Point. +His hat was pulled down over his face and his hands were +plunged in his pockets. A lighted cigar in his mouth illumined +his features––Larry rarely needed his hands to manipulate +his cigar; a shift seemed to be all that was essential, +until the ashes fell and the cigar was almost finished.</p> +<p>Larry walked on, and when he was beyond sound Northrup +proceeded on his way.</p> +<p>The Point seemed wrapped in decent slumber. A light +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +frankly burned in Twombley’s hovel, but for the rest, darkness!</p> +<p>Oddly enough, Northrup passed Twombley’s place without +halting, and presently found himself nearing Rivers’s. +This did not surprise him. He had quite forgotten his plan.</p> +<p>It was seeing Larry that had suggested this new move, +probably; at any rate, Northrup was curiously interested in +the fact that Larry was headed away from the Point and +toward the yellow house.</p> +<p>The loose rubbish and garbage presently got into Northrup’s +consciousness and made him think, as they always did, +of Maclin’s determination to get possession of the ugly place.</p> +<p>“It is the very devil!” he muttered, almost tumbling over +a smelly pile. “What’s that?” He crouched in the darkness. +His eyes were so accustomed to the gloom now that +he saw quite distinctly the door of Peneluna’s shack open, +close softly, and someone tiptoeing toward Rivers’s shanty. +Keeping at a distance, Northrup followed and when he was +about twenty feet behind the other prowler, he saw that it +was Jan-an and that she was cautiously going from window +to window of Larry’s empty house, peeping, listening, and +then finally muttering and whimpering.</p> +<p>“Well, what in thunder!” Northrup decided to investigate +but keep silent as long as he could.</p> +<p>A baby in the distance broke into a cry; a man’s rough +voice stilled it with a threat and then all was quiet once more.</p> +<p>The next thing that occurred was the amazing sight of +Jan-an nimbly climbing into the window of Larry’s kitchen! +Jan-an had either pried the sash up or Larry had been careless. +Northrup went up to the house and listened. Jan-an +was moving rapidly about inside and presently she lighted a +lamp, and through the slit between the shade and the window +ledge Northrup could watch the girl’s movements.</p> +<p>Jan-an wore an old coat, a man’s, over a coarse nightgown; +her hair straggled down her back; her vacant face was twitching +and worried, but a decent kind of dignity touched it, too. +She was bent upon a definite course, but was confused and +uncertain as to details.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></div> +<p>Over the papers scattered on the table Jan-an bent like a +hungry beast of prey. Her long fingers clutched the loose +sheets; her devouring eyes scanned them, compared them +with others, while over and again a muttered curse escaped +the girl’s lips.</p> +<p>Northrup took a big chance. He went to the door and +tapped.</p> +<p>He heard a quick, frightened move toward the window––Jan-an +was escaping as she had entered. As the sash was +raised, Northrup was close to the window and the girl reeled +back as she saw him.</p> +<p>“Jan-an,” he said quietly, controllingly, “let me in. You +can trust me. Let me in.”</p> +<p>Poor Jan-an was in sore need of someone in whom she +might trust and she could not afford to waste time. She +raised the sash again, climbed in, and then opened the door. +Northrup entered and locked the door after him.</p> +<p>“Now, then,” he said, sitting opposite to the girl who +dropped, rather than seated herself, in her old place. “Jan-an, +what are you up to?”</p> +<p>To his surprise, the girl burst into tears.</p> +<p>“My God,” she moaned, “what did I have feelin’s for––and +no sense? I can’t read!” she blurted. “I can’t read.”</p> +<p>This was puzzling, but Northrup saw that the girl had +confidence in him––a desperate, unknowing confidence that +had grown slowly.</p> +<p>“Why do you want to read, Jan-an?” he asked in a low, +kindly tone.</p> +<p>“I know you ain’t his friend, are you?” The wet, pitiful +face was lifted. Old fears and distrust rose grimly.</p> +<p>“Whose?”</p> +<p>“Maclin’s, ole divil-man Maclin?”</p> +<p>“Certainly not! You know better than to ask that, +Jan-an.”</p> +<p>“Nor his––Larry Rivers?”</p> +<p>“No, I am not his friend.”</p> +<p>Thus reassured once more, Jan-an ventured nearer:</p> +<p>“You don’t aim to hurt––her?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div> +<p>“Whom do you mean?” Northrup was perplexed by the +growing intelligence in the face across the table. It was like +a slow revealing of a groping power.</p> +<p>“I mean them––Mary-Clare and Noreen.”</p> +<p>“Hurt them? Why, Jan-an, I’d do anything to help them, +make them safe and happy.” Northrup felt as if he and +the girl opposite were rapidly becoming accomplices in a +tense plot. “What does all this mean?”</p> +<p>“As God seeing yer, yer mean that?” Jan-an leaned +forward.</p> +<p>“God seeing me! Yes, Jan-an.”</p> +<p>“Yer ain’t hanging around her to do her––dirt?”</p> +<p>“Good Lord, no!” Northrup recoiled. Apparently new +anxiety was overcoming the girl.</p> +<p>Then, by a sudden dash, Jan-an swept the untidy mass of +papers over to him; she abdicated her last stronghold.</p> +<p>“What’s them?” she demanded huskily. Northrup +brought the smelly kerosene lamp nearer and as he read he +was conscious of Jan-an’s mutterings.</p> +<p>“Stealing her letters––what is letters, anyway? And I’ve +counted and watched––he’s took one to her to-night. Just +one. One he has made. Writing day in and out––tearing +up writing––sneaking and lying. God! And new letters +looking like old ones, till I’m fair crazy.”</p> +<p>For a few moments Northrup lost the sound of Jan-an’s +guttural whimpers, then he caught the words:</p> +<p>“And her crying and wanting the letters. Just letters!” +Northrup again became absorbed.</p> +<p>He placed certain old sheets on one side of the table; newer +sheets on the other; some half sheets in the middle. It was +like an intricate puzzle, and the same one that Maclin had +recently tackled.</p> +<p>That he was meddling with another’s property and reading +another’s letters did not seem to occur to Northrup. He was +held by a determined force that was driving him on and an +intense interest that justified any means at his disposal.</p> +<p>“Some day I will read my old doctor’s letters to you––I +have kept them all!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></div> +<p>Northrup looked up. Almost he believed Jan-an had +voiced the words, but they had been spoken days ago by +Mary-Clare during one of those illuminating talks of theirs +and here <i>were</i> some old letters of the doctor’s. Were these +Mary-Clare’s letters? Why were they here and in this state?</p> +<p>Suddenly Northrup’s face stiffened. The old, yellowed +letters were, apparently, from Doctor Rivers to his son! +But there were other letters on bits of fresh paper, the handwriting +identical, or nearly so. Northrup’s more intelligent +eye saw differences. The more recent letters were, evidently, +exercises; one improved on the other; in some cases parts of +the letters were repeated. All these Northrup sorted and +laid in neat piles.</p> +<p>“She set a store by them old letters,” Jan-an was rambling +along. “I’d have taken them back to her, but I ’clar, ’fore +God, I don’t know which is which, I’m that cluttered. Why +did he want to pest her by taking them and then making more +and more?”</p> +<p>“I’m trying to find out.” Northrup spoke almost harshly. +He wanted to quiet the girl.</p> +<p>The last scrap of paper had been torn from an old, greasy +bag and bore clever imitation. It was the last copy, Northrup +believed, of what Jan-an said he had just carried away with +him.</p> +<p>Northrup grew hot and cold. He read the words and his +brain reeled. It was an appeal, or supposed to be one, from a +dead man to one whom he trusted in a last emergency.</p> +<p>“So he’s this kind of a scoundrel!” muttered Northrup, +dazed by the blinding shock of the fear that became, moment +by moment, more definite. “And he’s taken the thing to her +in order to get money.”</p> +<p>Northrup could grope along, but he could not see clearly. +By temperament and training he had evolved a peculiar +sensitiveness in relation to inanimate things. If he became +receptive and passive, articles which he handled or fixed his +eyes upon often transmitted messages for him.</p> +<p>So, now, disregarding poor Jan-an, who rambled on, Northrup +gazed at the letters near him, and held close the brown-paper +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +scrap which was, he believed, the final copy before the +finished production which was undoubtedly being borne to +Mary-Clare now. Rivers would have a scene with his wife +in the yellow house. With no one to interfere! Northrup +started affrightedly, then realized that before he could get +to the crossroads whatever was to occur would have occurred.</p> +<p>Larry would return to the shack. There was every evidence +that he had not departed finally. Believing that no +one would disturb his place so late at night he had taken a +chance and––been caught by the last person in the world one +would have suspected.</p> +<p>As an unconscious sleuth Jan-an was dramatic. Northrup +let his eyes fall upon the girl with new significance. She had +given him the power to set Mary-Clare free!</p> +<p>Her dull, tear-stained face was turned hopefully to him; +her straight, coarse hair hung limply on her shoulders––the +old coat had slipped away and the ugly nightgown but partly +hid the thin, scraggy body. Lost to all self-consciousness, the +poor creature was but an evidence of faith and devotion to +them who had been kind to her. Something of nobility +crowned the girl. Northrup went around to her and pulled +the old coat close under her chin.</p> +<p>“It’s all right, Jan-an,” he comforted, patting the unkempt +head.</p> +<p>“Are them the letters he stole?”</p> +<p>“Some of them, yes, Jan-an.”</p> +<p>“Kin I take ’em back to her?”</p> +<p>“Not to-night. I think Rivers will take them back.”</p> +<p>“S’pose he won’t.”</p> +<p>“He will.”</p> +<p>“You, you’re going to fetch him one?” The instinct of +the savage rose in the girl.</p> +<p>“If necessary, yes!” Northrup shared the primitive instinct +at that moment. “And now you trot along home, my +girl, and don’t open your lips to any one.”</p> +<p>“And you?”</p> +<p>“I’ll wait for Mr. Larry Rivers here!”</p> +<p>“My God!” Jan-an burst forth. Then: “There’s a sizable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +log back of the stove. Yer can fetch a good one with +that.”</p> +<p>“Thanks, Jan-an. Go now.”</p> +<p>Jan-an rose stiffly and shuffled to the door, unlocked it, +and went into the blackness outside.</p> +<p>Then Northrup sat down and prepared to wait.</p> +<p>The stove was rusty and cold, but Rivers had evidently +had a huge fire on the hearth during the day. Now that he +noticed, Northrup saw that there were scraps of burned paper +fluttering like wings of evil omens stricken in their flight.</p> +<p>He went over to the hearth, poked the ashes, and discovered +life. He laid on wood, slowly feeding the hungry sparks, +then he took his old place by the table, blew out the light +of the lamp and in the dark room, shot by the flares of the +igniting logs, he resigned himself to what lay before.</p> +<p>Rivers might return with Maclin. This was a new possibility +and disconcerting; still it must be met.</p> +<p>“I may kill a flock of birds by one interview,” Northrup +grimly thought and then drifted off on Maclin’s trail. The +ever-recurring wonder about the Point was intensified; he +must leave that still in doubt.</p> +<p>“I’ll get the damned thing in my own control, if I can,” he +concluded at length. “Buy it up for safety; keep still about +it and watch how Maclin reacts when he knocks against the +fact, eventually. That will make things safe for the present.”</p> +<p>But to own the Point meant to hold on to King’s Forest +just when he had decided to turn from it forever––after setting +Mary-Clare free.</p> +<p>The sense of a spiritual overlord for an instant daunted +Northrup. It was humiliating to realize how he had been +treading, all along, one course while believing he was going +another. And then––it was close upon midnight and vitality +ran sluggish––Northrup became part of one of those curious +mental experiences that go far to prove how narrow the +boundary is that lies between the things we understand and +those that are yet to be understood.</p> +<p>For some moments––or was it hours?––Northrup was not +conscious of time or place; not even conscious of himself as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +a body; he seemed to be a condition, over which a contest of +emotions swept. He was not asleep. He recalled later, that +he had kept his eyes on the fire; had once attended to it, casting +on a heavy log that dimmed its ferocious ardour.</p> +<p>Where Jan-an had recently sat, struggling with her doubts +and fears, Mary-Clare seemed to be. And yet it was not so +much Mary-Clare, visually imagined, as that which had gone +into the making of the woman.</p> +<p>The black, fierce night of her birth; her isolated up-bringing +with a man whose mentality had overpowered his wisdom; +the contact with Larry Rivers; the forced marriage and the +determined effort to live up to a bargain made in the dark, +endured in the dark. It came to Northrup, drifting as he +was, that a man or woman can go through slime and torment +and really escape harm. The old, fiery furnace legend was +based on an eternal truth; that and the lions’ den! It put a +new light on that peculiar quality of Mary-Clare. She had +never been burnt or wounded––not the real woman of her. +That explained the maddening thing about her––her aloofness. +What would she be now when she stood alone? For +she was going to stand alone! Then Northrup felt new sensations +driving across that state which really was himself +shorn of prejudice and limitations. His relation to Mary-Clare +was changed!</p> +<p>There were primitive forces battling for expression in his +lax hour. Setting the woman free from bondage––what for?</p> +<p>That was the world-old call. Not free for herself, but free +that another might claim her. He, sitting there, wanted her. +She had not altered that by her heroism. Who would help +her free herself, for herself? Who would cut her loose and +make no claims? Would it be possible to help her and +not put her under obligation? Could any one trust a higher +Power and go one’s way unasking, refusing everything? +Was there such a thing as freedom for a woman when two +men were so welded into her life?</p> +<p>Northrup set his teeth hard together. In the stillness he +had his fight! And just then a shuffling outside brought +him back to reality.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></div> +<p>Rivers came in, not noticing the unlocked door; he had +been drinking. Northrup’s eyes, accustomed to the gloom, +marked his unsteady gait; smiled as Larry, unconscious of +his presence, sank into a chair––the one in which Jan-an +had sat––reached out toward the lamp, struck a match, +lighted the wick and then, appalled, fixed his eyes upon +Northrup!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV' id='CHAPTER_XIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> +<p>“Hello, Rivers! I’m something of a surprise, eh?”</p> +<p>“Hell!” The word escaped Rivers as might a cry +that followed a stunning blow.</p> +<p>A guilty person, taken by surprise, always imagines the +worst. Rivers knew what he believed the man before him +knew, he also believed much that Maclin had insinuated, or +stated as fact, and he was thoroughly frightened and at a +disadvantage.</p> +<p>His nerve was shattered by the recent interview with Mary-Clare; +the earlier one with Maclin. Drink was befuddling +him. It was like being in quicksand. He dared not move, +but he felt himself sinking.</p> +<p>“Oh! don’t take it too seriously, Rivers.” Northrup felt +a decent sympathy for the fellow across the table; his fear was +agonizing. “We might as well get to an understanding +without a preamble. I reckon there are a lot of things we +can pass over while we tackle the main job.”</p> +<p>“You damned–––” Larry spluttered the words, but +Northrup raised his hand as if staying further waste of time. +He hated to take too great an advantage of a caged man.</p> +<p>“Of course, Rivers,” he said, “I wouldn’t have broken +into your house and read your letters if there wasn’t something +rather big-sized at stake. So do not switch off on a siding––let’s +get through with this.”</p> +<p>The tone and words were like a dash of icy water; Rivers +moistened his lips and sank, mentally, into that position he +loathed and yet could not escape. Someone was again getting +control of him. He might writhe and strain, but he was +caught once more––caught! caught!</p> +<p>“In God’s name,” he whispered, “who are you, anyway? +What are you after?”</p> +<p>“That’s what I’m here to tell you, Rivers.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></div> +<p>“Go ahead then, go ahead!” Larry again moistened his +dry lips––he felt that he was choking. He was ready to turn +state’s evidence as soon as he saw an opportunity. Debonair +and clever, crafty and unfaithful, Larry had but one clear +thought––he would not go behind bars again if one avenue of +escape remained open!</p> +<p>Maclin––Maclin’s secret business, loomed high, but at that +moment Mary-Clare held no part in his desperate fear.</p> +<p>“What do you want?”</p> +<p>Then, as if falling into his mood, Northrup said calmly:</p> +<p>“First, I want the Point.”</p> +<p>Larry’s jaw dropped; but he felt convinced that it was +Maclin or he who faced destruction and he meant to let +Maclin suffer now as Maclin had once permitted him to suffer. +If there was dirty work at the mines Maclin should pay. +That was justice––Maclin had made a tool of him.</p> +<p>“I don’t own the Point.” Rivers heard his own voice +as if from a distance. He had Mary-Clare’s word that she +would help him; the letter had done its overpowering work, +but he had left confession and detail until later. Mary-Clare +had pleaded for time, and he had come from her with his +business unsettled.</p> +<p>“I think after we’ve finished with our talk you can prevail +upon your wife to sell the Point to me and say nothing +about it.”</p> +<p>Rivers clutched the edge of the table. To his inflamed +brain Northrup seemed to know all and everything––he dared +not haggle.</p> +<p>“Who are you?” he repeated stammeringly. “What +right have you to break into my place and read my papers? +All I want to know is, what right have you? I cannot be +expected to––to come to terms unless I know that. I should +think you might see that.” The bravado was so pitiful and +weak that Northrup barely repressed a laugh.</p> +<p>“I don’t want to turn the screws, Rivers,” he said; “and +of course you have a right to an answer to your question. I +want the Point because I don’t want Maclin to have it. +Why he wants it, I’ll find out after. I’m illegally demanding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +things from you, but there are times when I believe such a +course is justifiable in order to save everybody trouble. You +could kick me out, or try to, but you won’t. You could have +the law on me––but I don’t believe you will want it. Of +course you know that <i>I</i> know pretty well what I am about or +I would not put myself in your power. So let’s cut out the +theatricals. Rivers, this Maclin isn’t any good. Just how +rotten he is can be decided later. He’s making a fool of +you and you’ll get a fool’s pay. You know this. I’m going +to help you, Rivers, if I can. You need all the time there is +for––getting away!”</p> +<p>Larry’s face was livid. He was prepared to betray Maclin, +but the old power held him captive.</p> +<p>“I dare not!” he groaned.</p> +<p>“Oh! yes, you dare. Brace up, Rivers. There is more +than one way to tackle a bad job.” Then, so suddenly that +it took Rivers’s breath, Northrup swept everything from sight +by asking calmly: “What did you do with that letter you +manufactured?”</p> +<p>So utterly unexpected was this attack, so completely aside +from what seemed to be at stake, that Rivers concluded everything +was known; that the very secrets of his innermost +thoughts were in this man’s knowledge. The quicksands +all but engulfed him. With unblinking eyes he regarded +Northrup as though hypnotized.</p> +<p>“I took it to her,” he gasped.</p> +<p>“Your wife?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“She does not suspect?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“What did your wife say when she read the letter?”</p> +<p>“She’s going to help me out.”</p> +<p>“I see. All right, you’re going to tell her that you want +the Point and then you’re going to sell it to me. Heathcote +can fix this up in a few days––the money I pay you will get +you out of Maclin’s reach. If he makes a break for you, +I’ll grab him. I guess he’s susceptible to scare, too, if the +truth were known.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></div> +<p>“My God! I want a drink.” Larry looked as if he did; +he rose and reeled over to the closet.</p> +<p>Northrup regarded his man closely and his fingers reached +out and drew the scattered papers nearer.</p> +<p>“Take only enough to stiffen you up, a swallow or two, +Rivers.”</p> +<p>Larry obeyed mechanically and when he returned to his +chair he was firmer.</p> +<p>“Rivers, I’m going to give you a chance by way of the only +decent course open to you––or to me. God knows, it’s +smudgy enough at the best and crooked, but it’s all I can +muster. I don’t expect you to understand me, or my motives––I’m +going to talk as man to man, stripped bare. In the +future you can work it out any way you’re able to. What +I want at the present is to clear the rubbish away that’s +cluttering the soul of a woman. That’s enough and you can +draw what damned conclusions you want to.”</p> +<p>There was an ugly gleam in Larry’s eyes. Men stripped +bare show brutish traits, but he felt the straps that were +binding him close.</p> +<p>“Go on!” he growled.</p> +<p>“You are to get your wife to give you this Point, Rivers. +She may not want to, but you must force her a bit there by +confessing to her the whole damned truth from start to finish +about––these!”</p> +<p>Both men looked at the mass of papers.</p> +<p>“What all these things represent, you know.” Larry did +not move; he believed that Northrup knew, too. Knew of +that year back in the past when his trick had been his ruin. +“And your simply getting out of sight won’t do. Your wife +has got to be free––free, do you understand? So long as she +doesn’t know the truth she’d have pity for you––women are +like that––she’s going to know all there is to know, and then +she’ll fling you off!”</p> +<p>In the hidden depths of Rivers’s nature there heaved and +roared something that, had Northrup not held the reins, +would have meant battle to the death. It was not outraged +honour, love, or justice that blinded and deafened Larry; it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +was simply the brutish resentment of the savage who, bound +and gagged, watches a strong foe take all that he had believed +was his by right of conquest. At that moment he hated +Mary-Clare as he hated Northrup.</p> +<p>“You damned scoundrel!” he gasped. “And if I do what +you suggest, what then?” He meant to force Northrup as +far as he dared.</p> +<p>A look that Rivers was never to forget spread over Northrup’s +face; it was the look of one who had lived through experiences +he knew he could not make clear. The impossibility +of making Rivers comprehend him presently overcame +Northrup. He spread his hands wide and said hopelessly:</p> +<p>“Nothing!”</p> +<p>“Like hell, nothing!” Larry was desperate and brutal. +Under all his bravado rang the note of defeat; terror, and a +barren hope of escape that he loathed while he clung to it. +“I don’t know what Maclin’s game is––I’ve played fair. +Whatever you’ve got on him can’t touch me, when the +truth’s out.” Rivers was breathing hard; the sweat stood on +his forehead. “But when it comes to selling your wife for +hush money–––”</p> +<p>“Stop that!” Northrup’s face was livid. He wanted to +throttle Rivers but he could not shake off the feeling of pity +for the man he had so tragically in his grip.</p> +<p>There was a heavy pause. It seemed weighted with tangible +things. Hate; pity; distrust; helpless truth. They became +alive and fluttering. Then truth alone was supreme.</p> +<p>“I told you, Rivers, that I knew you couldn’t believe me––you +cannot. Partly this is due to life, as we men know it; +partly to your interpretation of it, but at least I owe it to you +and myself to speak the truth and let truth take care of itself. +By the code that is current in the world, I might claim all +that you believe I am after, for I think your wife might learn +to love me––I know I love her. If I set her free from you, +permit her to see you as you are, in her shock and relief she +might turn to me and I might take her and, God helping me, +make a safe place for her; give her what her hungry soul +craves, and still feel myself a good sort. That would be the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +common story––the thing that might once have happened. +But, Rivers, you don’t know me and you don’t know––your +wife. I’ve only caught the glimmer of her, but that has +caused me to grow––humble. She’s got to be free, because +that is justice, and you and I must give it to her. When you +free her––it’s up to me not to cage her!” Northrup found +expression difficult––it all sounded so utterly hopeless with +that doubting, sneering face confronting him; and his late +distrust of himself––menacing.</p> +<p>“Besides, your wife has her own ideals. That’s hard for +us men to understand. Ideals quite detached from us; from +all that we might like to believe is good for us. I have my +own life, Rivers. Frankly, I was tempted to turn my back +on it and with courage set sail for a new port. I had contemplated +that, but I’m going back to it and, by God’s help, live +it!”</p> +<p>And now Northrup’s face twitched. He waited a moment +and then went hopelessly on:</p> +<p>“What the future holds––who knows? Life is a thundering +big thing, Rivers, if we play it square, and I’m going to +play it square as it’s given me to see it. You don’t believe +me?” Almost a wistfulness rang in the words. Larry leaned +back and laughed a hollow, ugly laugh.</p> +<p>“Believe you?” he said. “Hell, no!”</p> +<p>“I thought you couldn’t.” Northrup got up.</p> +<p>Around the edges of the lowered shades, a gray, drear +light gave warning of coming day. The effect of Larry’s last +drink was wearing off––he looked near the breaking point.</p> +<p>“Rivers, I’ll make a pact with you. Set your wife free––in +my way. If you do that, I’ll leave the place; never see her +again unless a higher power than yours or mine decrees otherwise +in the years on ahead. Take your last chance, man, to +do the only decent thing left you to do: start afresh somewhere +else. Forget it all. I know this sounds devilish easy +and I know it’s devilish hard, but”––and here the iron was +driven into Rivers’s consciousness––“either you or I set +Mary-Clare free before”––he hesitated; he wanted to give all +that he humanly could––“before another forty-eight hours.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></div> +<p>Larry felt the cold perspiration start on his forehead; his +stomach grew sick.</p> +<p>Faint and fear-filled, he seemed to feel Maclin after him; +Mary-Clare confronting him, smileless, terrifying. On the +other hand he saw freedom; money; a place in which he could +breathe, once more, with Maclin’s hands off his throat and +Mary-Clare’s coldness forgotten.</p> +<p>“I’ll go to her; I’ll do your hell-work, but give me another +day.” He gritted his teeth.</p> +<p>“Rivers, this is Tuesday. On Friday you must be gone, +and remember this: I’ve got it in my power to set your wife +free and imprison you and I’ll not hesitate to do it if you try +any tricks. I’d advise you to keep clear of Maclin and leave +whiskey alone. You’ll need all the power of concentration +you can summon.” Then Northrup turned to the table and +gathered up the scattered papers.</p> +<p>“What–––” Larry put out a trembling hand.</p> +<p>“I’ll take charge of these,” Northrup said. “I am going +to give them to the Heathcotes. They’ll keep them with the +other papers belonging to your wife.”</p> +<p>“Curse you!”</p> +<p>“Good morning, Rivers! I mean it, good morning! You +won’t believe this either, but it’s so. For the sake of your +wife and your little girl, I wish you well. When you send +word to the inn that you are ready for the business deal I’ll +have the money for you.”</p> +<p>Then Northrup opened the door and stepped out into the +chill light of the coming day. He shivered and stumbled +over a mass of rubbish. A clock struck in a quiet house.</p> +<p>“Five o’clock,” counted Northrup, and plunging his hands +in his pockets he made his way to Twombley’s shack.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV' id='CHAPTER_XV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +</div> +<p>Kathryn Morris had her plans completed, and +if the truth were known she had never felt better +pleased with herself––and she was not utterly depraved, +either.</p> +<p>She was far more the primitive female than was Mary-Clare. +She was simply claiming what she devoutly believed +was her own; reclaiming it, rather, for she sagely concluded +that on this runaway trip Northrup was in great danger and +only the faith and love of a good woman could save him! +Kathryn believed herself good and noble.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare had her Place in which she had been fed +through many lonely, yearning years, but Kathryn had no +such sanctuary. The dwelling-places of her fellow creatures +were good enough for her and she never questioned the codes +that governed them––though sometimes she evaded them!</p> +<p>After her talk with Helen Northrup, Kathryn did a deal +of thinking, but she moved cautiously. She had never forgotten +the address on Northrup’s letter to his mother and she +believed he was still there. She again looked up road maps, +located King’s Forest, and made some clever calculations. +She could go in the motor. The autumn was just the time +for such a trip. It would be easy to satisfy her aunt, Kathryn +very well knew. The mere statement that she was going +to meet Northrup and return with him would account for +everything and relieve the situation existing at present with +Sandy Arnold in daily evidence. “And if Brace is not playing +in some messy puddle in his old Forest, I can get on his +trail from there,” she reasoned secretly.</p> +<p>But, for some uncanny cause, Kathryn was confident that +Northrup <i>was</i> at his first address. It was so like him to creep +into a hole and be very dramatic and secretive. It was his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +temperament, Kathryn felt, and she steeled herself against +him.</p> +<p>On the morning that Northrup staggered over the rubbish +of Hunter’s Point toward Twombley’s, Kathryn took her +place in her limousine––her nice little travelling bag at her +feet––and viewed with complacency the back of her Japanese +chauffeur who had absorbed and digested all her directions +and would be, henceforth, a well-oiled, safe-running part of +the machinery, without curiosity or opinions.</p> +<p>They stopped for luncheon at a comfortable road-house, +rested for an hour, and then went on. It was mid-afternoon +when the yellow house at the crossroads made its appeal to +be questioned.</p> +<p>“I’ll run in and ask the way,” Kathryn explained, and +slowly went up to the door that once opened so humorously +to Northrup’s touch. Again the door responded, and a bit +startled, Kathryn found herself in the presence of a dull-faced +girl seated by the table apparently doing nothing.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon. Really, I did knock––the door just +opened.” Kathryn was confused and stepped back.</p> +<p>In all her dun-coloured life Jan-an had never seen anything +so wonderful as the girl on the doorstep. She was not at all +sure but that she was one of Noreen’s fiction creatures. +There was a story that Northrup had told Noreen about +Eve’s Other Children, and for an instant Jan-an estimated +the likelihood of the stranger being one––she wasn’t altogether +wrong, either!</p> +<p>“What you want?” she asked cautiously. Jan-an was, as +she put it, “all skew-y,” for the work of the evening before +had brought her to a more confused state than usual.</p> +<p>The world was widening––she included Northrup now in +her circle of protection and she wasn’t sure what Eve’s Other +Children were capable of doing.</p> +<p>“I want to find out the way to the inn, Heathcote Inn.” +Kathryn smiled alluringly.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you look at the sign?” There was witchery +about that sign, certainly.</p> +<p>“I did not see the sign. Please excuse me.” Then, “Do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +you happen to know if there is a Mr. Northrup at the +inn?”</p> +<p>“He sleeps there!” Jan-an looked stupid but honest. +“Days, he takes to the woods.”</p> +<p>Jan-an meant, as soon as the unearthly visitor departed, +to find Northrup and give the alarm. Kathryn thanked the +girl sweetly and returned to her car. As she did so she saw +the sign-board as Northrup had before her, and felt a bit +foolish, but she also recalled that Northrup might be in the +woods!</p> +<p>“You may go on to the inn,” she said to her man, “and +make arrangements. I am going to remain over night and +start back early to-morrow morning. Explain that I am +walking and will be there shortly.”</p> +<p>The quiet man at the door of the car touched his cap and +took his place at the wheel.</p> +<p>This was to Kathryn a thrilling adventure. The silence +and beauty were as novel as any experience she had ever +known, and her pulses quickened. The solitude of the woods +was not restful to her, but it stimulated every sense. The +leaves were dropping from the trees; the sunlight slanted +through the lacy boughs in exquisite design, and the sky was +as blue as midsummer. There was a smell of wood smoke +in the crisp air; the feel of the sweet leaves, underfoot, was +delightful. Kathryn “scruffed” along, unmindful of her +high heels and thin silk stockings. She did not know that +she <i>could</i> be so excited.</p> +<p>She crossed the road and turned to the hill. An impish +impulse swayed her. If she came upon Northrup! Well, +how romantic and thrilling it would be! She fancied his +surprise; his–––Here she paused. Would it be joy or +consternation that would betray Northrup?</p> +<p>Now, as it happened, Mary-Clare had given her morning +up to the business of the Point and she was worn and super-sensitive. +An underlying sense of hurry was upon her. +When she had done all that she could do, she meant to go to +her Place and lay her tired soul open to the influence that +flooded the quiet sanctuary. All day this had sustained her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +She would leave Noreen at the inn; send Jan-an back there, +and would, after her hour in the cabin, seek Larry out and +give him what he asked––the Point.</p> +<p>Through the hours at the inn she had feared Northrup’s +appearance, but when she learned that he had been away +all night, she feared <i>for</i> him. Her uneventful days seemed +gone forever, and yet Mary-Clare knew that soon––oh, very +soon––there would be to-morrows, just plain to-morrows +running one into another.</p> +<p>She was distressed, too, that Larry was to have the Point. +Aunt Polly had shaken her head over it and remarked that it +seemed like dropping the Pointers into Maclin’s mouth. +But Peter reassured her.</p> +<p>“I see your side, child,” he comforted. “What the old +doc said <i>goes</i> with you.”</p> +<p>“But it was Larry, not the doctor, as specified the Point,” +Polly insisted.</p> +<p>“All right, all right,” Peter patted Polly’s shoulder. +“Have it your own way, but I see it at <i>this</i> angle. Give +Larry what he wants; Maclin has Larry, anyway, but if he +keeps him here where we can watch what’s going on, I’ll feel +easier. He’ll show his hand on the Point, take my word for +it. Larry gallivanting is one thing, Larry with Twombley +and Peneluna, not to mention us all, is another. You let go, +Mary-Clare, and see what happens.”</p> +<p>“Well, I hold”––Aunt Polly was curiously stubborn––“that +Larry Rivers don’t want that Point any more than a toad +wants a pocket.”</p> +<p>“All right, all right!” Peter grew red and his hair sprang +up. “Put it as you choose. This may bring things to a +head. I swear the whole world is like a throbbing and +thundering boil––it’s got to bust, the world and King’s +Forest. I say, then, let ’em bust and have done with it.”</p> +<p>At four o’clock the business of the day was over and Mary-Clare +was ready to start. Then Noreen, with the perversity +of children, complicated matters.</p> +<p>“Motherly, let me go, too,” she pleaded.</p> +<p>“Childie, Mother wants to be alone.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span></div> +<p>“Why for?”</p> +<p>“Because, well, I must think.”</p> +<p>“Then let me stay home with Jan-an.”</p> +<p>“Dearie, I’m going to send Jan-an back here.”</p> +<p>“Why for?”</p> +<p>“Mary-Clare,” Peter broke in, “that child is perishing for +a paddling.”</p> +<p>Noreen ran to Peter and hugged him.</p> +<p>“You old grifferty-giff!” she whispered, falling into her +absurd jargon, “just gifferting.”</p> +<p>Then she went back to her mother and said impishly:</p> +<p>“I know! You don’t want me to see my father!” Then, +pointing a finger at Mary-Clare, she demanded: “Why +didn’t you pick a nice father for me when you were picking?”</p> +<p>The irrelevancy of the question only added to its staggering +effect. Mary-Clare looked hopelessly at her child.</p> +<p>“I didn’t have any choice, Noreen,” she said.</p> +<p>“You mean God gave him to you?”</p> +<p>“See here, Noreen”––Polly Heathcote rose to the call––“stop +pestering your mother with silly talk. Come along +with me, we’ll make a mess of taffy.”</p> +<p>“All right!” Noreen turned joyously to this suggestion, +but paused to add: “If God gave my father to us, I s’pose we +must make the best of it. God knows what He is doing––Jan-an +says He even knew what He was doing when He +nearly spoiled her.”</p> +<p>With this, Aunt Polly dragged Noreen away and Mary-Clare +left the house haunted by what Noreen had said. +Children can weave themselves into the scheme of life in a +vivid manner, and this Noreen had done. In her dealings +with Larry, Mary-Clare knew she must not overlook +Noreen.</p> +<p>Now, if fools rush in where angels fear to tread, surely they +often rush to their undoing. Kathryn followed the trail to +the cabin in the woods, breathlessly and in momentary danger +of breaking her ankles, for she teetered painfully on her +French heels and humorously wished that when the Lord +was making hills He had made them all down-grade; but at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +last she came in sight of the vine-covered shack and stood +still to consider.</p> +<p>It was characteristic of Kathryn that she never doubted +her intuitions until she was left high and dry by their incapacity +to hold her up.</p> +<p>“Ho! ho!” she murmured. “So <i>this</i> is where he burrows? +Another edition of the East Side tenement room where he +hid while writing his abominable book!”</p> +<p>Kathryn went nearer, stepping carefully––Northrup might +be inside! No; the strange room was empty! Kathryn +recalled the one visit she had made to the tenement while +Northrup was writing. There had been a terrible woman +with a mop outside the door there who would not let her pass; +who had even cast unpleasant suggestions at her––suggestions +that had made Kathryn’s cheeks burn.</p> +<p>She had never told Northrup about that visit; she would +not tell him about this one, either, unless her hand were +forced. In case he came upon her, she saw, vividly, herself +in a dramatic act––she would be a beautiful picture of tender +girlhood nestling in his environment, led to him by sore need +and loving intuition.</p> +<p>Kathryn, thus reinforced by her imagination, went boldly +in, sat down by the crude table, smiled at the Bible lying open +before her––then she raised her eyes to Father Damien. The +face was familiar and Kathryn concluded it must be a reproduction +of some famous painting of the Christ!</p> +<p>That, and the Bible, made the girl smile. Temperament +was insanity, nothing less!</p> +<p>Kathryn looked about for evidences of Northrup’s craft.</p> +<p>“I suppose he takes his precious stuff away with him. +Afraid of fires or wild beasts.”</p> +<p>This latter thought wasn’t pleasant and Kathryn turned +nervously to the door. As she did so her arm pushed the +Bible aside and there, disclosed to her ferret glance, were the +pages of Northrup’s manuscript, duplicate sheets, that Mary-Clare +had been rereading.</p> +<p>“Ho! ho!” Kathryn spread them before her and read +greedily––not sympathetically––but amusedly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></div> +<p>There were references to eyes, hair, expressions; even +“mud-stained breeches.” With elbows on the table, daintily +gloved hands supporting her chin, Kathryn read and thought +and wove <i>her</i> plot with Northrup’s words, but half understood, +lying under her gaze.</p> +<p>Suddenly Kathryn’s eyes widened––her ears caught a +sound. Never while she lived was Kathryn Morris to forget +her sensations of that moment, for they were coloured and +weighted by events that followed rapidly, dramatically.</p> +<p>In the doorway stood Mary-Clare, a very embodiment of +the girl described in the pages on the table. The tall, slim, +boyish figure in rough breeches, coat, and cap, was a staggering +apparition. The beauty of the surprised face did not appeal +to Kathryn, but she was not for one instant deceived as to +the sex of the person on the threshold, and her none-too-pure +mind made a wild and dangerous leap to a most unstable +point of disadvantage.</p> +<p>The girl in the doorway in some stupefying fashion represented +the “Fight” and the “Puddle” of Northrup’s adventure. +If Kathryn thought at all, it was to the effect that she +had known from start to finish the whole miserable business, +and she acted upon this unconscious conclusion with never a +doubt in her mind. The two women, in silence, stared at +each other for one of those moments that can never be measured +by rule. During the palpitating silence they were +driven together, while yet separated by a great space.</p> +<p>Kathryn’s conclusion drove her on the rocks; Mary-Clare’s +startled her into a state of clear vision. She recovered her +poise first. She smiled her perturbing smile; she came in +and sat down and said quietly:</p> +<p>“I was surprised. I am still.”</p> +<p>Kathryn felt a wave of moral repugnance rise to her assistance. +The clothes might disguise the real state of affairs––but +the voice betrayed much. This was no crude country +girl; here was something rather more difficult to handle; one +need not be pitiful and condoning; one must not flinch.</p> +<p>“You expected, I suppose, to find Mr. Northrup?”</p> +<p>When Kathryn was deeply moved she spoke out of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +corner of her mouth. It was an unpleasant trick––her lips +became hard and twisted.</p> +<p>“Oh! no, I did not, nor anyone else.” The name seemed +to hurt and Mary-Clare leaned back. “May I ask who you +are?” she said. Mary-Clare was indignant at she hardly +knew what; hurt, too, by what was steadying her. She knew +beyond doubt that the woman near her was one of Northrup’s +world!</p> +<p>“I am Miss Morris. I am engaged to be married to Mr. +Northrup.”</p> +<p>It were better to cut deep while cutting, and Kathryn’s +nerve was now set to her task. She unrelentingly eyed her +victim. She went on:</p> +<p>“I can see how this must shock you. I sent my car on +to the inn. I wanted a walk and––well! I came upon this +place. Fate is such a strange thing.”</p> +<p>Kathryn ran her words along rather wildly. The silence +of her companion, the calm way in which she was regarding +her, were having an unpleasant effect. When Kathryn became +aware of her own voice she was apt to talk too much––she +grew confidential.</p> +<p>“Mr. Northrup’s mother is ill. She needs him. The way +I have known all this right along is simply a miracle.”</p> +<p>How much more Kathryn might have said she was never +to know, for Mary-Clare raised a hand as though to stay the +inane torrent.</p> +<p>“What can you possibly mean,” she asked, and her eyes +darkened, “by knowing <i>this</i> all along? I do not understand––what +have you known?”</p> +<p>Then Kathryn sank in a morass.</p> +<p>“Oh! do be sensible,” she said, and her voice was hard and +cold. “You must see I have found you out––why pretend? +When a man like Mr. Northrup leaves home and forgets his +duties––does not even write, buries himself in such a place as +this and stays on––what does it mean? What can it possibly +mean?”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was spared much of what Kathryn was creating +because she was so far away––so far, far away from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +true significance of it all. She was seeing Northrup as Kathryn +had never seen him; would never see him. She realized +his danger. It was all so sudden and revolting. Only recently +had she imagined his past, his environment; she had +taken him as a wonderful experience in her barren, sterile life, +but now she considered him as threatened from an unsuspected +source. A natural revulsion from the type that +Kathryn Morris represented for a moment oppressed her, +but she dared not think of that nor of her own right to resent +the hateful slurs cast upon her. She must do what she could +for Northrup––do it more or less blindly, crudely, but she +must go as she saw light and was given time.</p> +<p>“You are terribly wrong about––everything.” Mary-Clare +spoke quietly but her words cut like bits of hail. “If you are +going, as you say, to be Mr. Northrup’s wife, you must try +and believe what I am saying now for your own sake, but +more for his.”</p> +<p>Kathryn tried to say “Insolence!” but could not; she +merely sat back in her chair and flashed an angry glance that +Mary-Clare did not heed.</p> +<p>“Mr. Northrup is writing a beautiful book. The book is +himself. He does not realize how much it is–––”</p> +<p>“Indeed!” Kathryn did utter the one word, then added: +“I suppose he’s read it to you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, he has.”</p> +<p>“Here, I suppose? By the fire, alone with you?”</p> +<p>“No, under the trees, out there.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare turned and glanced at the pure, open woods. +“It is a beautiful book,” she repeated.</p> +<p>“Oh! go on, do! Really this is too utterly ridiculous.” +Kathryn laughed impatiently. “We’ll take for granted the +beauty of the book.”</p> +<p>“No, I cannot go on. You would not understand. It does +not matter. What I want you to know is this––he could not +do an ugly, low thing. If you wrong him there, you will +never be forgiven, for it would hurt the soul of him; the part +of him that no one––not even you who will be his wife––has a +right to hurt or touch. You must make him <i>believe</i> in women. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +Oh! I wish I could make you see––that was the matter with +his beautiful book––I can understand now. He did not +know women; but if you believe what I am saying, all will be +right; you can make him know the truth. I can imagine +how you might think wrong––it never occurred to me before––the +woods, the loneliness, all the rest, but, because everything +has been right, it makes him all the finer. You do +believe me! You must! Tell me that you do!”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was desperate. It was like trying to save +someone from a flood that was carrying him to the rapids. +The unreality of the situation alone made anything possible, +but Kathryn suddenly reduced the matter to the deadly +commonplace.</p> +<p>“No, I do not believe you,” she said bitterly. “I am a +woman of the world. I hate to say what I must, but there +is so little time now, and there will be no time later on, so +you’ll have to take what you have brought upon yourself. +This whole thing is pitifully cheap and ordinary––the only +gleam of difference in it is that you are rather unusual––more +dangerous on that account. I simply cannot account for you, +but it doesn’t really interest me. When Mr. Northrup writes +his books, he always does what he has done now. It’s rather +brutal and cold-blooded but so it is. He has used you––you +have been material for him. If there is nothing worse”––Kathryn +flushed here––“it is because I have come in time. +May I ask you now to leave me here in Mr. Northrup’s”––Kathryn +sought the proper word––“study?” she said lamely. +“I will rest awhile; try to compose myself. If he comes I +will meet him here. If not, I will go to the inn later.”</p> +<p>Kathryn rose. So did Mary-Clare. The two girls faced +each other. The table lay between them, but it seemed the +width of the whole world.</p> +<p>“I would have helped you and him, if I could.” Mary-Clare’s +voice sounded like the “ghost wind” seeking wearily, +in a lost way, rest. “But I see that I cannot. This is not +Mr. Northrup’s Place––it is mine. I built it myself––no +foot but mine––and now yours––has ever entered here. I +have always come here to––to think; to read. I wonder if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +I ever will be able to again, for you have done something very +dreadful to it. You will do it to his life unless God keeps you +from it.” Mary-Clare was thinking aloud, taking no heed of +her companion.</p> +<p>“How dare you!” Kathryn’s face flamed and then turned +pale as death.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was moving toward the door. When she +reached it she stood as a hostess might while a guest departed.</p> +<p>“Please go!” she said simply, but it had the effect of taking +Kathryn by the shoulders and forcing her outside. With +flaming face, dyeing the white anger, she flung herself along. +Once outside she turned, looking cheap and mean for all the +trappings of her station in life.</p> +<p>“I want you to understand,” she said, “that you are dealing +with a woman of the world, not a sentimental fool.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare inclined her head. She did not speak. She +watched her uninvited guest go down the trail, pass out of +sight. Then she went back to her chair to recover from the +shock that had dazed her.</p> +<p>The atmosphere of the little cabin could not long be polluted +by so brief an experience as had just occurred, and +presently Mary-Clare was enfolded by the old comfort and +vision.</p> +<p>She could weigh and estimate things now, and this she did +bravely, justly. Like Northrup in Larry’s cabin the night +before, she became more a sensitive plate upon which pictures +flashed, than a personality that was thinking and suffering. +Such things as had now happened to her, she knew, happened +in books. Always books, books, for Mary-Clare, and the +old doctor’s philosophy that gave strength but no assurance. +The actual relation existing between Northrup and herself +became a solid and immovable fact. She had not fully +accepted it before; neither had he. They had played +with it as they had the golden hours that they would not +count or measure.</p> +<p>Nothing mattered but the truth. Mary-Clare knew +that the wonderful thing had had no part in her decision as +to Larry––others would not believe that, but she must not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +be swayed; she knew she had taken her steps faithfully as +she had seen them––she must not stumble now because of +any one, anything.</p> +<p>“It’s what you do to love that counts!” Almost fiercely +Mary-Clare grasped this. And in that moment Noreen, +Northrup’s mother, even Larry and the girl who had just departed, +put in their claim. She must consider them; they +were all part with Northrup and her.</p> +<p>“There is nothing for me to do but wait.” Mary-Clare +seemed to hear herself speaking the words. “I can do nothing +now but wait. But I will not fear the Truth.”</p> +<p>The bared Truth stood revealed; before it Mary-Clare did +not flinch.</p> +<p>“This is what it has all meant. The happiness, the joy, +the strange intensity of common things.”</p> +<p>Then Mary-Clare bowed her head upon her folded arms +while the warm sunlight came into the doorway and lay full +upon her. She was absorbed in something too big to comprehend. +She felt as if she was being born into––a woman! +The birth-pains were wrenching; she could not grasp anything +beyond them, but she counted every one and gloried in it.</p> +<p>The Big Thing that poor Peneluna had known was claiming +Mary-Clare. It could not be denied; it might be starved but +it would not die.</p> +<p>Somewhere, on beyond–––</p> +<p>But oh! Mary-Clare was young, young, and her beyond was +not the beyond of Peneluna; or if it were, it lay far, far across +a desert stretch.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI' id='CHAPTER_XVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> +<p>Northrup had cast himself upon Twombley’s hospitality +with the plea of business. He outlined a +programme and demanded silence.</p> +<p>“I’m going to buy this Point,” he confided, “and I’m going +to go away, Twombley. I’m going to leave things exactly +as they are until––well, perhaps always. Just consider yourself +my superintendent.”</p> +<p>Twombley blinked.</p> +<p>“Snatching hot cakes?” he asked. “Spoiling Maclin’s +meal?”</p> +<p>“Something like that, yes. I don’t know what all this +means, Twombley, but I’m going to take no chances. I +want to be in a position to hit square if anything needs hitting. +If no one knows that I’m in on this deal, I’ll be better +pleased––but I want you to keep me informed.”</p> +<p>Twombley nodded.</p> +<p>About noon Northrup departed, but he did not reach the +inn until nearly dark.</p> +<p>Heathcote and Polly had been tremendously agitated by +the appearance of the Morris car and the Japanese. They +were in a sad state of excitement. The vicious circle of unbelievable +happenings seemed to be drawing close.</p> +<p>“I guess I’ll put the Chinese”––Peter was not careful as +to particulars––“out in the barn to sleep,” he said, but Polly +shook her head.</p> +<p>“No, keep him where you can watch ’im,” she cautioned. +“There’ll be no sleeping for me while this unchristian business +is afoot. Peter, what do you suppose the creature eats?”</p> +<p>“I ain’t studying about that”––Peter shook with nervous +laughter––“but I’m going to chain Ginger up. I’ve +heard these Chinese-ers lean to animals.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div> +<p>“Nonsense, brother! But do you suppose the young +woman what’s on her way here is a female Chinese?”</p> +<p>“The Lord knows!” Peter bristled. “I wish Northrup +would fetch up and handle these items of his. My God! +Polly, we have been real soft toward this young feller. Appearances +and our dumb feelings about folks may have let +us all in for some terrible results. Maclin’s keener than us, +perhaps.”</p> +<p>“Now, brother”––Polly was bustling around––“this is no +time to set my nerves on edge. Here we be; here all this +mess is. We best hold tight.”</p> +<p>So Peter and Polly “held tight” while inwardly they feared +that King’s Forest was in deadly peril and that they had let +the unsuspecting people in for who could tell––what?</p> +<p>About five o’clock Kathryn came upon the scene. Her +late encounter had left her careless as to her physical appearance; +she was a bit bedraggled and her low shoes and silk hose––a +great deal of the latter showing––were evidences against +her respectability.</p> +<p>“I’m Mr. Northrup’s fiancée,” she explained, and sank into +a chair by the hearth.</p> +<p>Aunt Polly did not know what she meant, but in that she +belonged to Northrup, she must be recognized, and plainly +she was not Chinese!</p> +<p>Peter fixed his little, sparkling eyes on his guest and his +hair rose an inch while his face reddened.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you better go to your room,” he suggested as he +might to a naughty child. He wanted to get the girl out of +his sight and he hated to see Polly waiting upon her. Kathryn +detected the tone and it roused her. No man ever made +an escape from Kathryn when he used that note! Her eyes +filled with tears; her lips quivered.</p> +<p>“Mr. Northrup’s mother is dying,” she faltered; a shade +more or less did not count now––“help me to be brave and +calm for his sake. Please be my friend as you have been +his!”</p> +<p>This was a wild guess but it served its purpose. Peter felt +like a brute and Aunt Polly was all a-tremble.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></div> +<p>“Dear me!” she said, hovering over the girl, “somehow we +never thought about Brace’s folks and all that. Just you +come upstairs and rest and wash. I’ll fetch you some nice +hot tea. It’s terrible––his mother dying––and you having +to break it to him.” Polly led Kathryn away and Peter sat +wretchedly alone.</p> +<p>When Polly returned he was properly contrite and set to +work assisting with the evening meal. Polly was silent for +the most part, but she was deeply concerned.</p> +<p>“She says she’s going to marry Brace,” she confided.</p> +<p>“Well, I reckon if she says she is, she is!” Peter grunted. +“She looks capable of doing it.”</p> +<p>“Peter, you mustn’t be hard.”</p> +<p>“I hope to the Lord I can be hard.” Peter looked grim. +“It’s being soft and easy as has laid us open to––what?”</p> +<p>“Peter, you give me the creeps.”</p> +<p>Peter and Polly were in the kitchen when Kathryn came +downstairs. She had had a bath and a nap. She had resorted +to her toilet aids and she looked pathetically lovely +as she crouched by the hearth in the empty room and waited +for Northrup’s return. Every gesture she made bespoke the +sweet clinging woman bent on mercy’s task.</p> +<p>She again saw herself in a dramatic scene. Northrup +would open the door––that one! Kathryn fixed her eyes on +the middle door––he would look at her––reel back; call her +name, and she would rush to him, fall in his arms; then control +herself, lead him to the fire and break the sad news to him +gently, sweetly. He would kneel at her feet, bury his face in +her lap–––</p> +<p>But while Kathryn was mentally rehearsing this and +thrilling at the success of her wonderful intuitions, Northrup +was striding along the road toward the inn, his head bent +forward, his hands in his pockets. He was feeling rather +the worse for wear; the consequences of his deeds and promises +were hurtling about him like tangible, bruising things.</p> +<p>He was never to see Mary-Clare again! That had sounded +fine and noble when it meant her freedom from Larry Rivers, +but what a beastly thing it seemed, viewed from Mary-Clare’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +side. What would she think of him? After those hours of +understanding––those hours weighted with happiness and +delight that neither of them dared to call by their true names, +so beautiful and fragile were they! Those hours had been like +bubbles in which all that was <i>real</i> was reflected. They had +breathed upon them, watched them, but had not touched +them frankly. And now–––</p> +<p>How ugly and ordinary it would all seem if he left without +one last word!</p> +<p>The past few weeks might become a memory that would +enrich and ennoble all the years on ahead or they might, +through wrong interpretation, embitter and corrode.</p> +<p>Northrup was prepared to make any sacrifice for Mary-Clare; +he had achieved that much, but he chafed at the injustice +to his best motives if he carried out, literally, what he +had promised. He was face to face with one of those critical +crises where simple right seemed inadequate to deal with +complex wrong.</p> +<p>To leave Mary-Clare free to live whatever life held for +her, without bitterness or regret, was all he asked. As for +himself, Northrup had agreed to go back––he thought, as he +plunged along, in Manly’s terms––to his slit in the wall and +keep valiantly to it in the future. But he, no matter what +occurred, would always have a wider, purer vision; while +Mary-Clare, the one who had made this possible, would–––Oh! +it was an unbearable thought.</p> +<p>And just then a rustling in the bushes by the road brought +him to a standstill.</p> +<p>“Who’s that?” he asked roughly.</p> +<p>Jan-an came from behind a clump of sumach. A black +shawl over her head and falling to her feet made her seem +part of the darkness. Northrup turned his flashlight upon +her and only her vague white face was visible.</p> +<p>“What’s up?” he asked, as Jan-an came nearer. The girl +no longer repelled him––he had seen behind her mask, had +known her faithfulness and devotion to them he must leave +forever. Northrup was still young enough to believe in that +word––forever.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></div> +<p>Jan-an came close.</p> +<p>“Say, there’s a queer lot to the inn. They’re after you!”</p> +<p>Northrup started.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” he asked.</p> +<p>“A toot cart with an image setting up the front––and a +dressy piece in the glass cage behind.”</p> +<p>So vivid was the picture that Jan-an portrayed that Northrup +did not need to question.</p> +<p>“Lord! but she was togged out,” Jan-an went on, “but +seemed like I felt she had black wings hid underneath.” +Poor Jan-an’s flights of fancy always left her muddled. “If +you want that I should tell her anything while you light +out–––”</p> +<p>Northrup laughed.</p> +<p>“There, there, Jan-an,” he comforted. “Why, this is +all right. You wanted me to know, in case––oh! but you’re a +good sort! But see here, everything is safe and sound and”––Northrup +paused, then suddenly––“to-morrow, Jan-an, I +want you to go to––to Mary-Clare and tell her I left––good-bye +for her and Noreen.”</p> +<p>“Yer––yer going away?” Jan-an writhed under the flashlight.</p> +<p>“Yes, Jan-an.”</p> +<p>“Why–––” The girl burst into tears. Northrup tried +to comfort her. “I’ve been so stirred,” the girl sobbed. +“I had feelin’s–––”</p> +<p>“So have I, Jan-an. So have I.”</p> +<p>They stood in the dark for a moment and then, because +there was nothing more to say––Northrup went to meet +Kathryn Morris.</p> +<p>He went in at one of the end doors, not the middle one, +and so disturbed Kathryn’s stage setting. He opened and +closed the door so quietly, walked over to the fire so rapidly, +that to rise and carry out her programme was out of the +question, so Kathryn remained on the hearth and Northrup +dropped into the chair beside her.</p> +<p>“Well, little girl,” he said––people always lowered their +voices when speaking to Kathryn––“what is it?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></div> +<p>Northrup was braced for bad news. Of course Manly had +given his address to Kathryn––it was something beyond the +realm of letters and telegrams that had occurred; Kathryn +had been sent! That Manly was not prime mover in this +matter could not occur to Northrup.</p> +<p>“Is it Mother?” he whispered.</p> +<p>Kathryn nodded and her easy tears fell.</p> +<p>“Dead?” The word cut like a knife and Kathryn shivered. +For the first she doubted herself; felt like a bungler.</p> +<p>“Oh! no, Brace; Brace, do not look like that––really––really––listen +to me.”</p> +<p>Northrup breathed heavily.</p> +<p>“An accident?” he demanded. A hard note rang in his +words. This turn of affairs was rather more than Kathryn +had arranged for. It was like finding herself on the professional +stage when she had bargained for an amateur performance.</p> +<p>She ran to cover, abandoning all her well-laid plans. She +knew the advantage of being the first in a new situation, so +she hurried there.</p> +<p>“Brace dear, I––you know I have been bearing it all alone +and I dared <i>not</i> take any further responsibility even to––to +shield you, dearest, and your work.”</p> +<p>By some dark magic Northrup felt himself a selfish brute; +a deserter of duty.</p> +<p>“Kathryn,” he said, and his eyes fell, “please tell me. I +suppose I have been unforgivable, but––well, there’s nothing +to say!” Northrup bowed his head to take whatever blow +might fall.</p> +<p>“I may be all wrong, dear. You know, when one is alone, +is the confidante of another, one as precious as your mother is +to you and me, it unnerves one––I did not know what to do. +It may not be anything––but how could I know?”</p> +<p>“You went to Manly?” Northrup asked this with a sense +of relief while at the same time Kathryn had risen to a plane +so high that he felt humbled before her. He was still dazed +and in the dark, but all was not lost!</p> +<p>While he had been following his selfish ends, Kathryn had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +stood guard over all that was sacred to him. He had never +before realized the strength and purpose of the pretty child +near him. He reached out and laid his hand on the bowed +head.</p> +<p>“No, dear, that was it. Your mother would not let me––she +thought only of you; you must not be worried, just now––oh! +you know how she is! But, dearest, she has had, for +years, a strange and dreadful pain. It does not come often, +but when it does, it is very, very bad––it comes mostly at +night––so she has been able to hide it from you; the day following +she always spoke of it as a headache––you know how +we have sympathized with her––but never were alarmed?”</p> +<p>Northrup nodded. He recalled those headaches.</p> +<p>“Well, a week ago she called me to come to her––she +really looked quite terrible, Brace. I was so frightened, but +of course I had to hide my feelings. She says––oh! Brace, +she says there is––way back in the family–––”</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” Northrup got up and paced the floor. +“Manly has told me that was sheer nonsense. Go on, +Kathryn.”</p> +<p>“Well, dear, she was weak and <i>so</i> pitiful and she––she +confided things to me that I am sure she would not have, +had she been her brave, dear self.”</p> +<p>“What kind of things?”</p> +<p>It was horrible, but Northrup was conscious of being in a +net where the meshes were wide enough to permit of his +seeing freedom but utterly cutting him off from it.</p> +<p>What he had subconsciously hoped the night before, what +his underlying strength had been founded upon, he would +never be able to know, for now he felt every line of escape +from, heaven knew what, closing upon him; permitting no +choice, wiping out all the security of happiness; leaving––chaff. +For a moment, he forgot the question he had just +asked, but Kathryn was struggling to answer it.</p> +<p>“About you and me, Brace. Oh! help me. It is so hard; +so hard, dear, to tell you, but you must realize that because +of the things she said, I estimated the seriousness of her condition +and I cannot spare myself! Brace, she knows that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +you and I––have been putting off our marriage because of +her!”</p> +<p>There was one mad moment when Northrup felt he was +going to laugh; but instantly the desire fled and ended in +something approaching a groan.</p> +<p>“Go on!” he said quietly, and resumed his seat by the +fire.</p> +<p>“I think we have been careless rather than thoughtful, +dear. Older people can be hurt by such kindness––if they +are wonderful and proud like your mother. She cannot +bear to––to be an obstacle.”</p> +<p>“An obstacle? Good Lord!” Northrup jammed a log to +its place and so relieved his feelings.</p> +<p>“Well, my dearest, you must see the position I was placed +in?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Kathryn, I do. You’re a brick, my dear, but––how +did you know where I was, if you did not go to Manly?”</p> +<p>Kathryn looked up, and all the childlike confidence and +sweetness she could summon lay in her lovely eyes.</p> +<p>“Dearest, I remembered the address on the letter you sent +to your mother. Because I wanted to keep this secret about +our fear from her––I came alone and I knew that people here +could direct me if you had gone away. I was prepared to +follow you––anywhere!”––Kathryn suddenly recalled her +small hand-bag upstairs––“Brace, I was frightened, bearing +it alone. I <i>had</i> to have you. Oh! Brace.”</p> +<p>Northrup found the girl in his arms. His face was against +hers––her tears were falling and she was sobbing helplessly. +The net, it was a purse net now, drew close.</p> +<p>“Brace, Brace, we must make her happy, together. I will +share everything with you––I have been so heedless; so +selfish––but my life is now yours and––hers!”</p> +<p>Guilt filled the aroused soul of Northrup. As far as in +him lay he––surrendered! With characteristic swiftness +and thoroughness he closed his eyes and made his dash!</p> +<p>“Kathryn, you mean you will marry me; you will––do +this for me and her?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></div> +<p>Just then Aunt Polly came into the room. Her quick, +keen eye took in the scene and her gentle heart throbbed in +sympathy. She came over to the two and hovered near +them, patting Northrup’s shoulder and Kathryn’s head indiscriminately. +She crooned over them and finally got them +to the dining-room and the evening meal.</p> +<p>An early start for the morrow was planned, and by nine +o’clock Kathryn went to her room.</p> +<p>Northrup was restless and nervous. There was much to +be done before he left. He must see Rivers and finish that +business––it might have to be hurried, but he felt confident +that by raising Larry’s price he could secure his ends. And +then, because of the finality in the turn of events, Northrup +desperately decided upon a compromise with his conscience. +Strange as it now seemed he had, before his talk with Kathryn, +believed that he was done forever with his experience, +but he realized, as he reconsidered the matter, that hope, a +strange, blind hope, had fluttered earlier but that now it +was dead; dead!</p> +<p>Since that was the case, he would do for a dead man––Northrup +gruesomely termed himself that––what the dead +man could not do for himself. Surely no one, not even +Rivers, would deny him that poor comfort, if all were known. +He would write a note to Mary-Clare, go early in the morning +to that cabin on the hill and leave it––where her eye +would fall upon it when she entered.</p> +<p>That the cabin was sacred to Mary-Clare he very well +knew; that she shared it with no one, he also knew; but she +would forgive his trespassing, since it was his only way in +honour out––out of her life.</p> +<p>Very well, then! At nine-thirty he decided to go over to +the Point again and, if he found Larry, finish that business. +If Larry were not there, he would lie in wait for him and gain +his ends. So he prepared for another night away from the +inn, if necessary.</p> +<p>Aunt Polly, hovering on the outskirts of all that was going +on, materialized, as he was about leaving the house like a +thief of the night.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></div> +<p>“Now, son, must you go out?” she pleaded, her spectacles +awry on the top of her head, her eyes unnaturally bright.</p> +<p>“Yes, Aunt Polly.” Northrup paused, the knob of the +door in hand, and looked down at the little creature.</p> +<p>“Is it fair, son?” Aunt Polly was savagely thinking of the +gossip of the Forest––she wildly believed that Northrup might +be going to the yellow house. The hurry of departure might +blind him to folly.</p> +<p>“Fair––fair to whom, Aunt Polly?” Northrup’s brows +drew together.</p> +<p>“To yourself, son. Bad news and the sudden going +away–––” the old voice choked. It was hard to use an +enemy’s weapon against one’s own, even to save him.</p> +<p>“Aunt Polly, look at me.” This was spoken sternly.</p> +<p>“I <i>am</i> looking, son, I am looking.” And so she was.</p> +<p>“I’m going out, because I must, if I am to do my duty by +others. You must trust me. And I want you to know that +all my future life will be the stronger, the safer, because of +my weeks here with you all! I came to you with no purpose––just +a tired, half-sick man, but things were taken out of my +hands. I’ve been used, and I don’t know myself just yet +for what. I’m going to have faith and you must have it––I’m +with you, not against you. Will you kiss me, Aunt +Polly?”</p> +<p>From his height Northrup bent to Polly’s littleness, but +she reached up to him with her frail tender arms and seemed +to gather him into her denied motherhood. Without a word +she kissed him and––let him go!</p> +<p>Northrup found Rivers in his shack. He looked as if he +had been sitting where Northrup left him the night before. +He was unkempt and haggard and there were broken bits of +food on the untidy table, and stains of coffee.</p> +<p>“I’m going away, Rivers,” Northrup explained, sitting +opposite Larry. “I couldn’t wait to get word from you––my +mother is ill. I must put this business through in a +sloppy way. It may need a lot of legal patching after, but +I’ll take my chances. Heathcote has straightened out your +wife’s part––the Point is yours. I’ve made sure of that. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +Now I’m going to write out something that I think will hold––anyway, +I want your signature to it and to a receipt for +money I will give you. What we both know will after all +be the real deed, for if you don’t keep your bargain, I’ll come +back.”</p> +<p>Larry stared dully, insolently at Northrup but did not +speak. He watched Northrup writing at the table where the +food lay scattered. Then, when the clumsy document was +finished, Northrup pushed it toward Rivers.</p> +<p>“Sign there!” he said.</p> +<p>“I’ll sign where I damn please.” Larry showed his teeth. +“How much you going to give me for my woman?”</p> +<p>For a moment the sordid room seemed to be swirling in a +flood of red and yellow. Northrup got on his feet.</p> +<p>“I don’t want to kill you,” he muttered, “but you deserve +it.”</p> +<p>“Ah, have it your own way,” Larry cringed. The memory +of the night before steadied him. He’d been drinking heavily +and was stronger––and weaker, in consequence.</p> +<p>“How much is––is the price for the Point?” he mumbled.</p> +<p>Northrup mastered his rage and sat down. Feeling sure +that Rivers would dicker he said quietly:</p> +<p>“A thousand dollars.”</p> +<p>“Double that!” Rivers’s eyes gleamed. A thousand +dollars would take him out of Maclin’s reach, but all that he +could get beyond would keep him there longer.</p> +<p>“Rivers, I expected this, so I’ll name my final price. +Fifteen hundred! Hurry up and sign that paper.”</p> +<p>Larry signed it unsteadily but clearly.</p> +<p>“Have you seen your wife, Rivers?” Northrup passed a +cheque across the table.</p> +<p>“I’m going to see her to-morrow––I have up to Friday, +you know.”</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s true. I must go to-morrow morning, but I’ll +make sure you keep to your bargain.”</p> +<p>“And––you?” Rivers’s lips curled.</p> +<p>“I have kept my bargain.”</p> +<p>“And you’ll get away without talking to my wife?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></div> +<p>Northrup’s eyes grew dark.</p> +<p>“Yes. But, Rivers, if I find that you play loose in any +way, by God, I’ll settle with you if I have to scour the earth +for you. Remember, she is to know everything––everything, +and after that––you’re to get out––quick.”</p> +<p>“I’ll get out all right.”</p> +<p>“I hope, just because of your wife and child, Rivers, that +you’ll straighten up; that something will get a grip on you +that will pull you up––not down further. No man has a +right to put the burden of his right living or his going to hell +on a woman’s conscience, but women like your wife often +have to carry that load. You’ve got that in you which, +put to good purpose, might–––”</p> +<p>“Oh! cut it out.” Rivers could bear no more. “I’m going +to get out of your way––what more in hell do you want?”</p> +<p>“Nothing.” Northrup rose, white-lipped and stern. +“Nothing. We are both of us, Rivers, paying a big price +for a woman’s freedom. It’s only just––we ought not to want +anything more.”</p> +<p>With that Northrup left the shack and retraced his lonely +way to the inn.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII' id='CHAPTER_XVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +</div> +<p>Northrup arose the next morning before daylight and +tried to write a note to Mary-Clare. It was the most +difficult thing he had ever undertaken. If he could +speak, it would be different, but the written word is so rigid.</p> +<p>This last meeting had been so distraught, they had beaten +about so in the dark, that his uncertainty as to what really +was arrived at confused him.</p> +<p>Could he hope for her understanding if without another word +he left her to draw her own conclusions from his future life?</p> +<p>She would be alone. She could confide in no one. She +might, in the years ahead, ascribe his actions to the lowest +motives, and he had, God knew, meant her no harm.</p> +<p>Then, as it was always to be in the time on ahead, Mary-Clare +herself seemed to speak to him.</p> +<p>“It is what one does to love that matters.” That was +it––“What one does.”</p> +<p>With this fixed in his mind Northrup wrote:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>I want you to know that I love you. I believe you love me. +We couldn’t help this––but you have taught me how not to kill it.</p> +<p>There are big, compelling things in your life and mine that cannot +be ignored––you showed me that, too. I do not know how I am to +go on with my old life––but I am going to try to live it––as you will +live yours.</p> +<p>There was a mad moment on the hill that last day we met––you +saved it.</p> +<p>There is a greater thing than love––it is truth, and that is why +I must bid you good-bye––in this way.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Crude and jagged as the thought was, Northrup, in rereading +his words, did not now shrink from Mary-Clare’s +interpretation. She <i>would</i> understand.</p> +<p>After an early breakfast, at which Kathryn did not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +appear––Aunt Polly had carried Kathryn’s to her room––Northrup +went out to see that everything was ready for the journey +home. To his grim delight––it seemed almost a postponed +sentence––he discovered the chauffeur under the car and in a +state of <i>calm</i> excitement. In broken but carefully selected +English the man informed Northrup that he could repair +what needed repair but must have two hours or more in +which to do it.</p> +<p>With his anxiety about his mother lessened, Northrup received +this news with a sense of relief. Once the car was in +commission they could make good the loss of time. So +Northrup started upon his errand, taking the roundabout +trail he had broken for himself, and which led to that point +back of the cabin from which he had often held his lonely +but happy vigils.</p> +<p>Over this trail, leaf-strewn and wet, Northrup now went. +He did not pause at the mossy rock that had hitherto marked +his limit. He sternly strode ahead over unbroken underbrush +and reached the cabin.</p> +<p>The door was open; without hesitation he went in, laid +his note on the table, put the Bible over it, and retraced his +steps. But once at the clump of laurel a weak, human +longing overcame him. Why not wait there and see what +happened? There was an hour or more to while away before +the car would be in readiness. Again Northrup had that +sense of being, after all, an atom in a plan over which he had +small control.</p> +<p>So far he could go, no further! After that? Well, after +that he would never weaken. He sat down on the rock, held +the branches aside so that the cabin was in full view and, +unseen himself, waited.</p> +<p>Now it happened that others besides Northrup were astir +that morning. Larry, shaved and washed, having had a +good breakfast, provided by Peneluna and served by Jan-an, +straightened himself and felt more a man than he had felt +for many a day. He gave Jan-an money for Peneluna and +a dollar for herself. The girl stared at the bill indicated as +hers and pushed it back.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></div> +<p>“Take it, Jan-an,” Larry urged. “I’d like to remember +you taking it.”</p> +<p>The girl, thus urged, hid the money in her bosom and +shuffled out.</p> +<p>Larry was sober and keen. He was going to carry out +Northrup’s commands, but in his own way! He meant to +lay a good deal more in waste than perhaps any one would +suspect. And yet, Larry, sober and about to cut loose from +all familiar things, had sensations that made him tremble +as he stumbled over the débris of the Point.</p> +<p>Never before had he been so surely leaving everything as +he was now. In the old days of separation, there had always +been <i>home</i> in the background. During that hideous year +when he was shut behind bars, his thoughts had clung to +home, to his father! He had meant then to go back and +reform! Poor Larry! he had nothing to reform, but he had +not realized that. Then Maclin caught him and instead of +being reformed, Larry was moulded into a new shape––Maclin’s +tool. Well, Maclin was done with, too! Larry +strode on in the semi-darkness. The morning was dull and +deadly chill.</p> +<p>Traditional prejudice rose in Rivers and made him hard +and bitter. He felt himself a victim of others’ misunderstanding.</p> +<p>If he had had a––mother! Never before had this emotion +swayed him. He knew little or nothing of his mother. +She had been blotted out. But he now tried to think that +all this could never have happened to him had he not been +deprived of her. In the cold, damp morning Larry reverted +to his mother over and over again. Good or bad, she would +have stood by him! There was no one now; no one.</p> +<p>“And Mary-Clare!” At this his face set cruelly. “She +should have stood by me. What was her sense of duty, +anyway?”</p> +<p>She had always eluded him, had never been his. Larry +rebelled at this knowledge. She had been cold and demanding, +selfish and hard. No woman has a right to keep herself +from her husband. All would have been well if she had done +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +her part. And Noreen was his as well as Mary-Clare’s. +But she was keeping everything. His father’s house; the +child; the money!</p> +<p>By this time Larry had lashed himself into a virtuous fury. +He felt himself wronged and sinned against. He was prepared +to hurt somebody in revenge.</p> +<p>Larry went to the yellow house. It was empty. There +was a fire on the hearth and a general air of recent occupancy +and a hurried departure. A fiendish inspiration came to +Rivers. He would go to that cabin of Mary-Clare’s and wait +for her. She should get her freedom there, where she had +forbidden him to come. He’d enter now and have his say.</p> +<p>Larry took a short cut to the cabin and by so doing reached +it before Mary-Clare, who had taken Noreen to Peneluna’s––not +daring to take her to the inn.</p> +<p>Larry came to within a dozen yards of the cabin when he +stopped short and became rigid. He was completely screened +from view, but, for the moment, he did not give this a +thought. There was murder in his heart, and only cowardice +held him back.</p> +<p>Northrup was coming out of the cabin! Rivers had not +realized that he trusted Northrup, but he had, and he was +betrayed! All the bitterness of defeat swept over him and +hate and revenge alone swayed him. Suddenly he grew +calm. Northrup had passed from sight; the white mists of +the morning were rolling and breaking. He would wait––if +Mary-Clare was in the cabin, and Larry believed she was, +he could afford to bide his time. Indeed, it was the only +thing to do, for in a primitive fashion Rivers decided to deal +only with his woman, and he meant to have a free hand. He +would have no fight for what was not worth fighting for––he +would solve things in his own way and be off before any one +interfered.</p> +<p>And then he turned sharply. Someone was advancing +from the opposite direction. It was Mary-Clare. She came +up her own trail, emerging from the mists like a shadowy +creature of the woods; she walked slowly, wearily, up to the +Place and went inside with the eyes of two men full upon her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></div> +<p>At that moment the sun broke through the mists; it flooded +the cabin and touched warmly the girl who sank down beside +the table. Instantly her glance fell upon the note by the +Bible. She took it up, read it once, twice, and––understood +more, far more than Northrup could guess.</p> +<p>Perhaps a soul awakening from the experience of death +might know the sensation that throbbed through the consciousness +of Mary-Clare at that moment. The woman of her +had been born in the cabin the day before, but the birth pains +had exhausted her. She had not censured Northrup in her +woman-thought; she had believed something of what now +she knew, and understood. She raised the note and held it +out on her open palms––almost it seemed as if she were showing +it to some unseen Presence as proof of all she trusted. +With the sheet of paper still held lightly, Mary-Clare walked +to the door of her cabin. She had no purpose in mind––she +wanted the air; the sunlight. And so she stood in the full +glow, her face uplifted, her arms outspread.</p> +<p>Northrup from his hidden place watched her for a moment, +bowed his head, and turned to the inn. Larry watched her; +in a dumb way he saw revealed the woman he had never +touched; never owned. Well, he would have his revenge.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare turned back after her one exalted moment; +she took her place by the table and spread again the note +before her. She did not notice the footsteps outside until +Larry was on the threshold and then she turned, gripping, +intuitively, the sheet of paper in her hand. Larry saw the +gesture, saw the paper, and half understood.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare looked at her husband distantly but not unkindly. +She did not resent his being there––the Place was no +longer hers alone.</p> +<p>“A nice lot you are!” Rivers blurted this out and came +in. He sat down on the edge of the table near Mary-Clare. +“What’s that?” he demanded, his eyes on the note.</p> +<p>“A letter.”</p> +<p>“Full of directions, I suppose?” Larry smiled an ugly, +keen smile.</p> +<p>“Directions? What do you mean?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></div> +<p>“I guess that doesn’t matter, does it?” he asked. “Don’t +let us waste time. See here, my girl, the game’s up! Now +that letter––I want that. It will be evidence when I need it. +He’s broken his bargain. I mean to take the advantage I’ve +got.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare stared at Rivers in helpless amazement––but +her fingers closed more firmly upon the note.</p> +<p>“When he––he bought you––he promised me that he’d +never see you again. He wanted you free––for yourself. +Free!” Larry flung his head back and indulged in a harsh +laugh. “I got the Point––he bought the Point and you! +Paid high for them, too, but he’ll pay higher yet before I get +through with him.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare sat very quiet; her face seemed frozen into an +expression of utter bewilderment. That, and the memory +of her as she had stood at the door a few moments ago, maddened +Rivers and he ruthlessly proceeded to batter down all +the background that had stood, in Mary-Clare’s life, as a +plea for her loyalty, faith, and gratitude.</p> +<p>“Do you know why my father kept me from home and put +you in my place?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“No, Larry.”</p> +<p>“He was afraid of me––afraid of himself. He left me to +others––and others helped me along. Others like Maclin +who saw my ability!” Again Larry gave his mirthless, ugly +laugh and this time Mary-Clare shuddered.</p> +<p>She made no defence for her beloved doctor––the father of +the man before her. She simply braced herself to bear the +blows, and she shuddered because she intuitively felt that Larry +was in no sense realizing his own position; he was so madly +seeking to destroy that of others.</p> +<p>“I’m a counterfeiter––I’ve been in prison––I’ve–––” but +here Rivers paused, struck at last by the face opposite him. +It was awakening; it flushed, quivered, and the eyes darkened +and widened. What was happening was this––Larry was +setting Mary-Clare free in ways that he could not realize. +Every merciless blow he struck was rending a fetter apart. +He was making it possible for the woman, close to him physically, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +to regard him at last as––a man; not a husband that +mistaken loyalty must shield and suffer for. He was placing +her among the safe and decent people, permitting her at last +to justify her instincts, to trust her own ideals.</p> +<p>And from that vantage ground of spiritual freedom, released +from all false ties of contract and promise, Mary-Clare +looked at Larry with divine pity in her eyes. She seemed +to see the veiled form of his mother beside him––they were +like two outcasts defiantly accusing her, but toward whom +she could well afford to feel merciful.</p> +<p>“Don’t, Larry”––Mary-Clare spoke at last and there were +tears in her eyes––“please don’t. You’ve said enough.”</p> +<p>She felt as though she were looking at the dying face of a +suicide.</p> +<p>“Yes, I think I have said enough about myself except +this: I wrote all those letters you––you had. Not one was +my father’s––they were counterfeits––there are more ways +than one of––of getting what you want.”</p> +<p>Again Mary-Clare shuddered and sank into the dull state +of amazement. She had to think this over; go slowly. She +looked at Larry, but she was not listening. At last she asked +wonderingly:</p> +<p>“You mean––that he did not want me to marry you? +And that last night––he did not say––what you said you +understood?”</p> +<p>Larry laughed––but it was not the old assured laugh of +brutality––he had stripped himself so bare that at last he was +aware of his own nakedness.</p> +<p>“Oh!” The one word was like a blighting shaft that +killed all that was left to kill.</p> +<p>Larry put forth a pitiful defence.</p> +<p>“You’ve been hard and selfish, Mary-Clare. Another +sort might have helped me––I got to caring, at first. You’ve +taken everything and given mighty little. And now, when +you see a chance of cutting loose, you wipe me off the map +and betray me into the hands of a man who has lied to me, +made sport of me, and thinks he’s going to get away with it. +Now listen. I want that letter. When I have used up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +the hush money I have now, I’m coming back for more––more––and +you and he are going to pay.”</p> +<p>By this time Larry had worked himself again into a +blind fury. He felt this but could not control it. He had +lost nearly everything––he must clutch what was left.</p> +<p>“Give that to me!” he commanded, and reached for the +clenched hand on the table.</p> +<p>“No, Larry. If you could understand, I would let you +have it, but you couldn’t! Nothing matters now between +you and me. I am free, free!”</p> +<p>The radiant face, the clenched hand, blinded Larry. +Sitting again on the edge of the table, looking down at the +woman who had eluded him, was defying him, he struck out! +He had no thought at all for the moment––something was +in his way; before he could escape he must fling it aside.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare drooped; dropped from her chair and lay quiet +upon the floor. Her hand, holding the paper, was spread +wide, the note was unprotected.</p> +<p>For a moment Larry gazed at his work with horrified +eyes. Never before had he meted physical brutality to man +or woman. He was a coward at heart, and he was thoroughly +cowed as he stood above the girl at his feet. He +saw that she was breathing; there was almost at once a +fluttering of the lids. There were two things for a coward +to do––seize the note and make his escape.</p> +<p>Larry did both and Mary-Clare took no heed.</p> +<p>A little red squirrel came into the sunny room and darted +about; the sunlight grew dim, for there was a storm rising, +and the clouds were heavy on its wings.</p> +<p>And while the deathly silence reigned in the cabin, Northrup +and Kathryn were riding rapidly from the inn. As the +car passed the yellow house, Kathryn pathetically drew down +the shades––her eyes were tear-filled.</p> +<p>“Brace, dear,” she whispered, “I’m so afraid. The +storm; everything frightens me. Take me in your arms.”</p> +<p>And at that moment Kathryn believed that she loved +Northrup, had saved him from a great peril, and she was +prepared to act the part, in the future, of a faithful wife.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII' id='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +</div> +<p>Noreen and Jan-an late that afternoon returned to +the yellow house. They were both rather depressed +and forlorn, for they knew that Northrup was gone +and had taken away with him much that had stimulated +and cheered.</p> +<p>Finding the yellow house empty, the two went up the +opposite hill and leisurely made their way to the brook that +marked the limit of free choice. Here they sat down, and +Noreen suggested that they sing Northrup’s old songs and +play some of his diverting games. Jan-an solemnly agreed, +shaking her head and sighing as one does who recalls the +dead.</p> +<p>So Noreen piped out the well-beloved words of “Green +Jacket” and, rather heavily, acted the jovial part. But +Jan-an refused to be comforted. She cried distractedly, and +always when Jan-an wept she made such abnormal “faces” +that she disturbed any onlookers.</p> +<p>“All right!” Noreen said at last. “We’ll both do something.”</p> +<p>This clever psychological ruse brought Jan-an to her normal +state.</p> +<p>“Let’s play Eve’s Other Children,” Noreen ran on. “I’ll +be Eve and hide my children, the ones I don’t like specially. +You be God, Jan-an.”</p> +<p>This was a great concession on Noreen’s part, for she revelled +in the leading rôle, as it gave full play to her dramatic +sense of justice.</p> +<p>However, the play began with Noreen hiding some twisted +and dry sticks under stones and in holes in trees and then +proceeding to dress, in gay autumn leaves, more favoured +twigs. She crooned over them; expatiated upon their loveliness, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +and, at a given signal, poor Jan-an clumsily appeared +and in most unflattering terms accused Noreen of depravity +and unfaithfulness, demanding finally, in most picturesque +and primitive language, the hidden children. At this point +Noreen rose to great heights. Fear, remorse, and shame +overcame her. She pleaded and denied; she confessed and at +last began, with the help of her accuser, to search out the +neglected offspring. So wholly did the two enjoy this part +of the game that they forgot their animosity, and when the +crooked twigs were discovered Jan-an became emphatically +allegorical with Noreen and ruthlessly destroyed the “other +children” on the score that they weren’t worth keeping.</p> +<p>But the interest flagged at length, and both Jan-an and +Noreen became silent and depressed.</p> +<p>“I’ve got feelin’s!” Jan-an remarked, “in the pit of my +stomach. Besides, it’s getting cold and a storm’s brewing. +Did yer hear thunder?”</p> +<p>Noreen was replacing her favoured children in the crannies +of the rocks, but she turned now to Jan-an and said wistfully:</p> +<p>“I want Motherly.”</p> +<p>“She’s biding terrible long up yonder.”</p> +<p>“P’raps, oh! Jan-an, p’raps that lady you were telling about +has taken Motherly!”</p> +<p>Noreen became agitated, but Jan-an with blind intuition +scoffed.</p> +<p>“No; whatever she took, she wouldn’t take her! But she +took Mr. Northrup, all right. Her kind takes just fierce! I +sense her.”</p> +<p>Noreen looked blank.</p> +<p>“Tell me about the heathen, Jan-an,” she said. “What +<i>did</i> he eat when Uncle Peter wouldn’t let him have Ginger?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know, but I did miss two rabbits.”</p> +<p>“Live ones, Jan-an?” Noreen’s eyes widened.</p> +<p>“Sure, live ones. Everything’s live till it’s killed. I +ain’t saying he et ’em ’live.”</p> +<p>“Maybe the rabbits got away,” Noreen suggested hopefully.</p> +<p>“The Lord knows! Maybe they did.” Then Jan-an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +added further information: “I guess your father has gone +for good!”</p> +<p>“Took?” Noreen was not now overcome by grief.</p> +<p>“No, just gone. He gave me a dollar.”</p> +<p>“A dollar, Jan-an? A whole dollar?” This was almost +unbelievable. Jan-an produced the evidence from her loose +and soiled blouse.</p> +<p>“He left his place terribly tidy, too,” she ran on, “and +when a man does that Peneluna says it’s awful suspicious.”</p> +<p>“Jan-an, you wait here––I’m going up to the cabin!”</p> +<p>Noreen stood up defiantly. She was possessed by one of +her sudden flashes of inspiration.</p> +<p>“Yer ain’t been called,” warned Jan-an.</p> +<p>“I know, but I <i>must</i> go. I’ll only peep in. Maybe +Motherly took a back way to the inn.”</p> +<p>To this Jan-an had nothing to say and she sat down upon a +wet rock to wait, while Noreen darted up the trail like a small, +distracted animal of the woods.</p> +<p>It was growing dark and heavy with storm; the thunder was +more distinct––there was a hush and a breathless suggestion of +wind held in check by a mighty force.</p> +<p>Noreen reached the shack and peeped in at the vine-covered +window. What she saw marked a turning-point in +the child’s life.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was still stretched upon the floor. Several +things had happened to her since Larry fled; she was never +clearly to account for them.</p> +<p>She had been conscious and had drifted into unconsciousness +several times. She had tried, she recalled that later, +to get to the couch, but her aching head had driven the impulse +into oblivion. She had fallen back on the floor. Then, +again, she roused and there was blood––near her. Not +much, but she had not noticed it before, and she must have +fainted. Again, she could remember thinking of Noreen, of +the others; and the necessity of keeping forever hidden the +thing that had happened.</p> +<p>But again Mary-Clare, from exhaustion or faintness, slipped +into silence, and so Noreen found her!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></div> +<p>The child went swiftly into the still cabin and knelt beside +her mother. She was quite calm, at first, and unafraid. +She took the dear head on her lap and patted the white cheek +where the little cut had let out the blood––there was dry +blood on it now and that caused Noreen to gasp and cry +out.</p> +<p>Back and forth the child swayed, mumbling comforting +words; and then she spoke louder, faster––her words became +wild, disconnected. She laughed and cried and called for +every one of her little world in turn.</p> +<p>Uncle Peter!</p> +<p>Aunt Polly!</p> +<p>Peneluna! And then Jan-an! Jan-an!</p> +<p>As she sobbed and screamed Mary-Clare’s eyes opened +and she smiled. At that moment Jan-an came stumbling +into the room.</p> +<p>One look and the dull, faithful creature became a machine +carrying out the routine that she had often shared with +others on the Point.</p> +<p>“She ain’t dead!” she announced after one terrified glance, +and then she dragged Mary-Clare to the couch; ran for water; +took a towel from a nail and bathed the white, stained face. +During this Noreen’s sobs grew less and less, she became +quieter and was able, presently, to assist Jan-an.</p> +<p>“She’s had a fall,” Jan-an announced. Mary-Clare +opened her eyes––the words found an echo in her heavy +brain.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she whispered.</p> +<p>“And on an empty stummick!” Jan-an had a sympathetic +twinge.</p> +<p>“Yes,” again Mary-Clare whispered and smiled.</p> +<p>“Noreen, you go on sopping her face––I’m going to get +something hot.”</p> +<p>And while Noreen bathed and soothed the face upon the +pillow into consciousness and reason, Jan-an made a fire +on the hearth, carried water from a spring outside, and +brought forth tea and some little cakes from the cupboard. +The girl’s face was transfigured; she was thinking, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +thinking, and it hurt her to think consecutively––but she +thought on.</p> +<p>“Norrie darling, I am all right. Quite all right.” At last +Mary-Clare was able to assert herself; she rose unsteadily and +Jan-an sprang to her side.</p> +<p>“Lay down,” she commanded in a new and almost alarming +tone. “Can’t yer see, yer must hold on ter yerself a +spell? Let me take the lead––I know, I know!”</p> +<p>And Mary-Clare realized that she did! Keenly the two +gazed at each other, Eve’s two children! Mary-Clare sank +back; her face quivered; her eyes filled with weak tears.</p> +<p>Outside the darkness of the coming storm pressed close, +the wind was straining at the leash, the lightning darted and +the thunder rolled.</p> +<p>“The storm,” murmured Mary-Clare, “the storm! It is +the breaking up of summer!”</p> +<p>The stale cakes and the hot tea refreshed the three, and +after an hour Mary-Clare seemed quite herself. She went +to the door and looked out into the heart of the storm. The +red lightning ran zigzag through the blackness. It seemed +like the glad summer, mad with fear, seeking a way through +the sleet and rain.</p> +<p>Bodily bruised and weary, mentally exhausted and groping, +Mary-Clare still felt that strange freedom she had experienced +while Larry was devastating all that she had believed +in, and for which she had given of her best.</p> +<p>She felt as one must who, escaping from an overwhelming +flood, looks upon the destruction and wonders at her own +escape. But she <i>had</i> escaped! That became, presently, +the one gripping fact. She had escaped and she would find +safety somewhere.</p> +<p>The late sunset after the storm was glorious. The clear +gold that a mighty storm often leaves in its wake was like a +burnished shield. The breeze was icy in its touch; the +bared trees startled one by the sudden change in their appearance––the +gale had torn their colour and foliage from +them. Starkly they stood forth against the glowing sky.</p> +<p>And then Mary-Clare led the way down the trail––her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +leaf-strewn, hidden trail. She held Noreen’s hand in hers +but she leaned upon Jan-an. As they descended Mary-Clare +planned.</p> +<p>“When we get home, Jan-an, home to the yellow house, I +want you to go for Peneluna.”</p> +<p>From all the world, Mary-Clare desired the old understanding +woman.</p> +<p>“I guess you mean Aunt Polly,” Jan-an suggested.</p> +<p>“No. To-morrow, Aunt Polly, Jan-an. To-day I want +Peneluna.”</p> +<p>“All right.” Jan-an nodded.</p> +<p>“And, Noreen dear.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Motherly.”</p> +<p>“Everything is all right. I had a––queer fall. It was +quite dark in the cabin––I hit my face on the edge of the +table. And, Noreen.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Motherly.”</p> +<p>“I may have to rest a little, but you must not be worried––you +see, Mother hasn’t rested in a long while.”</p> +<p>Peneluna responded to the call. It was late evening when +she and Jan-an came to the yellow house. Before starting +for the Point Jan-an had insisted upon getting a meal and +afterward she had helped Mary-Clare put Noreen to bed. +All this had delayed her.</p> +<p>“Now,” she said at last, “I’ll go. I guess you’re edging to +the limit, ain’t yer?”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare nodded.</p> +<p>“I’ve never been sick, not plain sick, in all my life,” she +murmured, “and why should I be now?”</p> +<p>But left alone, she made ready, in a strange way, for what +she felt was coming upon her. She undressed carefully and +put her room in order. Then she lay down upon her bed +and drifted lightly between the known and the unknown.</p> +<p>She touched Noreen’s sleeping face so gently that the child +did not heed the caress. Then:</p> +<p>“Perhaps I am going to die––people die so easily at times––just +flare out!”</p> +<p>And so Peneluna found her and knelt beside her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></div> +<p>“You hear me, Mary-Clare?”</p> +<p>“Yes. I hear you, of course.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, child, take this along with you, wherever you +bide for a time. I’m here and God Almighty’s here and +things is safe! You get that?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Peneluna.”</p> +<p>“Then listen––‘The solitary place shall be glad––and a +highway shall be there––and a way.’” The confused words +fell into a crooning song.</p> +<p>“Solitary Place–––” Mary-Clare drifted to it, her eyes +closed wearily, but she smiled and Peneluna believed that +she had found The Way. Whether it wound back or out––well! +Peneluna turned to her task of nursing. She had the +gift of healing and she had an understanding heart, and so +she took command.</p> +<p>It was a rough and difficult Way and beset with dangers. +A physician came and diagnosed the case.</p> +<p>“Bad fall––almost concussion.”</p> +<p>Aunt Polly came and shared the nursing. Jan-an mechanically +attended to the house while Uncle Peter took Noreen +under his care.</p> +<p>The dull, uneventful days dragged on before Mary-Clare +came back to her own. One day she said to Jan-an, +“I––I want you to go to the cabin, Jan-an. I have given it––back +to God. Close the windows and doors––for winter +has come!”</p> +<p>Jan-an nodded. She believed Mary-Clare was “passing +out”––she was frightened and superstitious. She did not +pause to explain to Peneluna, in the next room, where she was +going, but covering her head and shoulders with an old shawl, +she rushed forth.</p> +<p>It was bitingly cold and the dry twigs struck against the +girl’s face like ice. The ghost-wind added terror to the +hour, but Jan-an struggled on.</p> +<p>When she reached the cabin it was nearly dark––the empty +room was haunted by memories and there were little scurrying +creatures darting about. Standing in the centre of the +room, Jan-an raised her clenched hands and extended them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +as if imploring a Presence. If Mary-Clare had given the +Place back to God, then it might be that God was there +close and––listening. Jan-an became possessed by the spiritual. +She lifted her faithful, yearning eyes and spoke +aloud.</p> +<p>“God!” She waited. Then: “God, I’m trusting and I +ain’t afraid––much! God, listen! I fling this to Your face. +Yer raised Lazarus and others from the dead and Mary-Clare +ain’t dead yet––can’t Yer––save her? Hear me! hear me!”</p> +<p>Surely God heard and made answer, for that night Mary-Clare’s +Way turned back again toward the little yellow +house.</p> +<p>When she was able, Aunt Polly insisted that she be moved +to the inn.</p> +<p>“It will make less trouble all around and Peneluna will +stay on.”</p> +<p>So they went to the inn, and the winter settled down upon +the Forest and the Point and the mines. The lake was frozen +and became a glittering highway; children skated; sleighs +darted here and there. The world was shut away and things +sank into the old grooves.</p> +<p>During her convalescence Mary-Clare had strange visionary +moments. She seemed to be able at times to detach +herself from her surroundings and, guided by almost forgotten +words of Northrup’s, find herself––with him. And +always he was alone. She never visualized his mother; she +could, thank heaven, eliminate Kathryn.</p> +<p>She was alone with Northrup in a high place. They did not +speak or touch each other––but they knew and were glad! +There seemed to be mists below them, surrounding them; +mists that now and then parted, and she and Northrup would +eagerly try to––see things! Mary-Clare imagined herself +in that high place as she did Northrup, a personality quite +outside her own.</p> +<p>After awhile those moments took more definite shape and +form. She and Northrup were trying to see their city in +the mists; trying to create their city.</p> +<p>This became a thrilling mental exercise to Mary-Clare, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +and in time she saw a city. Once or twice she almost felt +him as she, that girl of her own creation, reached out to the +man whom she loved; who loved her, but who knew, as she +did, that love asks renunciation at times as well as acceptance +if one were to keep––truth.</p> +<p>Presently Mary-Clare was able to walk in the sunshine +and then she often went to the deserted chapel and sat +silent for hours.</p> +<p>And there Maclin found her one day––a smiling, ingratiating +Maclin. Maclin had been much disturbed by Larry’s +abrupt and, up to the present, successful escape. Of course +Maclin’s very one-track mind had at the hour of Rivers’s +disappearance accounted for things in a primitive way. +Northrup had bought Larry off! That was simple enough +until Northrup himself disappeared.</p> +<p>At this Maclin was obliged to do some original conjecturing. +There must have been a scene––likely enough in that +wood cabin. Northrup’s woman had got the whip hand +and Northrup had accepted terms––leaving Mary-Clare. +That would account for the illness.</p> +<p>So far, so good. But with both Larry and Northrup off +the ground, the Heathcotes would have to take responsibility. +This would be the psychological moment to buy the Point! +So Maclin, keeping watch, followed Mary-Clare to chapel +island.</p> +<p>“Well, well!” he exclaimed as if surprised to see the +girl in the angle of the old church. “Decided to get well, +eh? Taking a sun bath?”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare gathered her cloak closer, as if shrinking from +the smiling, unwholesome-looking man.</p> +<p>“Yes, I’m getting well fast,” she said.</p> +<p>“Hear anything from Larry?” It seemed best to hide +his own feelings as to Larry.</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Some worried, I expect?”</p> +<p>“No, I do not worry much, Mr. Maclin.” Mary-Clare +was thinking of her old doctor’s philosophy. She wasn’t +going to die, so she must live at once!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></div> +<p>“It’s a damned mean way to treat a little woman the way +you’ve been treated.”</p> +<p>Maclin stepped nearer and his neck wrinkled. Mary-Clare +made no reply to this. Maclin was conscious of the +back of his neck––it irritated him.</p> +<p>“Left you strapped?” he asked.</p> +<p>“What is that?” Mary-Clare was interested.</p> +<p>“Short of money.”</p> +<p>“Oh! no. My wishes are very simple––there’s money +enough for them.”</p> +<p>“See here, Mrs. Rivers, let’s get down to business. Of +course you know I want the Point. I’ll tell you why. The +mines are all right <i>as</i> mines, but I have some inventions over +there ripe for getting into final shape. Now, I haven’t told a +soul about this before––not even Larry––but I always hold +that a woman <i>can</i> keep her tongue still. I’m not one of the +men who think different. I want to put up a factory on the +Point; some model cottages and––and <i>make</i> King’s Forest. +Now what would you take for the Point, and don’t be too +modest. I don’t grind the faces of women.”</p> +<p>Maclin smiled. The fat on his face broke into lines––that +was the best a smile could do for him. Mary-Clare +looked at him, fascinated.</p> +<p>“Speak up, Mrs. Rivers!” This came like a poke in the +ribs––Mary-Clare recoiled as from a physical touch.</p> +<p>“I do not own the Point any longer,” she said.</p> +<p>“What in thunder!” Maclin now recoiled. “Who +then?”</p> +<p>“I gave it to Larry.”</p> +<p>“How the devil could Larry pay you for it?”</p> +<p>“Larry gave me no money.”</p> +<p>“Do you expect me to believe this, Mrs. Rivers?” The +fat now resumed its flaccid lines.</p> +<p>“It doesn’t interest me in the least, Mr. Maclin, whether +you do or not.”</p> +<p>Then Mary-Clare rose, rather weakly, and turned toward +the bridge.</p> +<p>And there stood Maclin alone! Like all people who have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +much that they fear to have known, Maclin considered now +how much Larry really knew? Did he know what the +Point meant? Had he ever opened letters? This brought +the sweat out on Maclin.</p> +<p>Had he copied letters with that devilish trick of his? +Could he sell the Point to––to–––?</p> +<p>Maclin could bear no longer his unanswered questions. +He went back to the mines and was not seen in King’s Forest +for many a day.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX' id='CHAPTER_XIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +</div> +<p>Once back in the old environment, Northrup went, +daily, through the sensations of his haunting dream, +without the relief of awakening. The corridor of +closed doors was an actuality to him now. Behind them lay +experiences, common enough to most men, undoubtedly, +but, as yet, unrevealed to him.</p> +<p>In one he had dwelt for a brief time––good Lord! had it only +been for weeks? Well, the memory, thank heaven, was +secure; unblemished. He vowed that he would reserve to +himself the privilege of returning, in thought, to that memory-haunted +sanctuary as long as he might live, for he knew, +beyond any doubt, that it could not weaken his resolve to +take up every duty that he had for a time abandoned. It +should be with him as Manly had predicted.</p> +<p>This line of thought widened Northrup’s vision and developed +a new tie between him and other men. He found +himself looking at them in the street with awakened interest. +He wondered how many of them, stern, often hard-featured +men, had realized their souls in private or public life, and +how had they dealt with the revelation? He grew sensitive +as to expressions; he believed, after a time, that he could +estimate, by the look in the eyes of his fellowmen, by the +set of their jaws, whether they had faced the ordeal, as he was +trying to do, or had denied the soul acceptance. It was like +looking at them through a magnifying lens where once he +had regarded them through smoked glass.</p> +<p>And the women? Well, Northrup was very humble about +women in those days. He grew restive when he contemplated +results and pondered upon the daring that had assumed responsibility +where complete understanding had never been +attempted. It seemed, in his introspective state, that God, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +even, had been cheated. Women were, he justly concluded, +pretty much a response to ideals created for them, not by +them.</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was having her way with Northrup!</p> +<p>Something of all this crept into his book for, after a fortnight +at home, he set his own jaw and lips rather grimly, +went to his small office room in the tower of a high building, +and paid the elevator boy a goodly sum for acting as buffer +during five holy hours of each day.</p> +<p>It was like being above the world, sitting in that eyrie +nook of his. Northrup often recalled a day, years before, +when he had stood on a mountain-peak bathed in stillness and +sunlight, watching the dramatic play of the elements on the +scene below. Off to the right a violent shower spent itself +mercilessly; to the left, rolling mists were parting and revealing +pleasant meadows and clustering hamlets. And with +this recollection, Northrup closed his eyes and, from his silent +watch tower, saw, as no earthly thing could make him see, +the hideous tragedy across the seas.</p> +<p>Since his return his old unrest claimed him. It was blotting +out all that he had believed was his––ideals; the meaning +of life; love; duty; even his city––<i>his</i>––was threatened. +Nothing any longer seemed safe unless it were battled for. +There was something he owed––what was it?</p> +<p>Try as he valiantly did, Northrup could put little thought +in his work––it eluded him. He began, at first unconsciously, +to plan for going away, while, consciously, he deceived himself +by thinking that he was readjusting himself to his own widened +niche in the wall!</p> +<p>When Northrup descended from his tower, he became as +other men and the grim lines of lips and jaws relaxed. He +was with them who first caught the wider vision of brotherhood.</p> +<p>At once, upon his return, he had taken Manly into his +confidence about his mother, and that simple soul brushed +aside the sentimental rubbish with which Kathryn had +cluttered the situation.</p> +<p>“It’s all damned rot, Brace,” he snapped. “You had a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +grandmother who did work that was never meant for women +to do––laid a carpet or tore one up, I forget which, I heard +the story from my father––and she developed cancer––more +likely it wasn’t cancer––I don’t think my father was ever sure. +But, good Lord! why should her descendants inherit an accident? +I thought I’d talked your mother out of that nonsense.”</p> +<p>Thus reassured, Northrup told Kathryn that all the secret +diplomacy was to be abandoned and that his mother must +work with them.</p> +<p>“But, Brace dear, you don’t blame me for my fright? +I was so worried!”</p> +<p>“No, little girl, you were a trump. I’ll never forget how +you stood by!”</p> +<p>So Helen Northrup put herself in Manly’s hands––those +strong, faithful hands. She went to a hospital for various +tests. She was calm but often afraid. She sometimes +looked at the pleasant, thronged streets and felt a loneliness, +as if she missed herself from among her kind. Manly pooh-poohed +and shrugged his broad shoulders.</p> +<p>“Women! women!” he ejaculated, but there were hours +when he, too, had his fears.</p> +<p>But in the end, black doubt was driven away.</p> +<p>“Of course, my dear lady,” Manly said relievedly, patting +her hand, “we cannot sprint at fifty-odd as we did at twenty. +But a more leisurely gait is enjoyable and we can take time to +look around at the pleasant things; do the things we’ve always +wanted to do––but didn’t have time to do. Brace must get +married––he’ll have children and you’ll begin all over with +them. Then I’d like to take in some music with you this +winter. I’ve rather let my pet fads drop from sheer loneliness. +Let’s go to light opera––we’re all getting edgy over +here. I tell you, Helen, it’s up to us older fry to steer the +youngsters away from what does not concern them.”</p> +<p>Poor Manly! He could not deafen his conscience to the +growing call from afar and already he saw the trend. So he +talked the more as one does to keep his courage up in grave +danger.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span></div> +<p>With his anxiety about Helen Northrup removed, Manly +gave attention to Brace. Brace puzzled him. He acknowledged +that Northrup had never looked better; the trip had +done wonders for him. Yes; that was it––something rather +wonderful had been done.</p> +<p>He attacked Northrup one day in his sledge-hammer style.</p> +<p>“What in thunder has got mixed up in your personality?” +he asked.</p> +<p>“Oh! I suppose anxiety about Mother, Manly. And the +thought that I had slipped from under my responsibilities. +Had she died––well! it’s all right now.”</p> +<p>But this did not satisfy Manly.</p> +<p>“Hang it all, I don’t mean anxiety,” he blurted out. “The +natural stuff I can estimate and label. But you look somehow +as if you had been switched off the side track to the +main line.”</p> +<p>“Or the other way about, old man?” Northrup broke in +and laughed.</p> +<p>“No, sir; you’re on the main line, all right; but you don’t +look as if you knew where you were going. Keep the headlight +on, Brace.”</p> +<p>“Thanks, Manly; I do not fully understand just where I +may land, but I’m going slow. Now this––this horror across +seas–––” Always it was creeping in, these days.</p> +<p>“Oh! that’s their business, Northrup. They’re always +scrapping––this isn’t our war, old man,” Manly broke in +roughly, but Northrup shook his head.</p> +<p>“Manly, I cannot look at it as a war––just a plain war, +you know. I’ve had a queer experience that I will tell you +about some day, but it convinced me that above all, and +through all, there is a Power that forces us, often against our +best-laid plans, and I believe that Power can force the world +as well. Manly, take it from me, this is no scrap over there, +it’s a soul-finder; a soul-creator, more like. Before we get +through, a good many nations and men will be compelled to +look, as you once did, at bare, gaunt souls or”––a pause––“set +to work and make souls.”</p> +<p>Manly twisted in his seat uneasily. Northrup went on.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></div> +<p>“Manly”––he spoke quietly, evenly––“do you remember +our last talk in this office before I left?”</p> +<p>“Well, some of it. Yes.”</p> +<p>“Jogs, you know. Mountain peaks, baby hands, women +faces, and souls?”</p> +<p>“Oh! yes. Sick talk to a sick man.” Manly snapped his +fingers.</p> +<p>“Manly, what did you mean by saying that you had once +seen your soul?” Northrup was in dead earnest. Manly +swung around in his swivel chair.</p> +<p>“I meant that I saw mine once,” he said sharply, definitely.</p> +<p>“How did it look?”</p> +<p>“As if I had neglected it. A shrunken, shivering thing.” +Manly stopped suddenly, then added briefly: “You cannot +starve that part of you, Northrup, without a get-back some +day.”</p> +<p>“No. And that’s exactly what I am up against––the get-back!”</p> +<p>After that talk with Manly, Northrup, singularly enough, +felt as if he had arrived at some definite conclusion; had received +instructions as to his direction. He was quietly elated +and, sitting in his office, experienced the peace and satisfaction +of one who spiritually submits to a higher Power.</p> +<p>The globe of light on the peak of his tower seemed, humorously, +to have become his headlight––Manly’s figures of +speech clung––its white and red flashes, its moments of darkness, +were like the workings of his mind, but he knew no +longer the old depression. He was on the main line, and he +had his orders––secret ones, so far, but safe ones.</p> +<p>Kathryn grew more charming as time passed. She did not +seem to resent Northrup’s detachment, though the tower +room lured him dangerously. Once she had hinted that she’d +love to see his workshop; hear some of his work. But Northrup +had put her off.</p> +<p>“Wait, dear, until I’ve finished the thing, and then you +and I will have a regular gorge of it, up in my tower.”</p> +<p>Kathryn at this put up her mouth to be kissed while behind +her innocent smile she was picturing the girl of King’s Forest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +in those awful muddy trousers! <i>She</i> had heard the book in +the making; she had not been pushed aside.</p> +<p>More and more Mary-Clare became a stumbling block to +Kathryn. She felt she was a dangerous type; the kind men +never could understand, until it was too late, and never +forgot. And Brace <i>was</i> changed. The subtle unrest did not +escape Kathryn.</p> +<p>“I wonder–––” And Kathryn did wonder. Wondered +most at the possibility of Mary-Clare ever appearing on the +surface again. For––and this was a humiliating thought to +Kathryn––she realized she was no match for that girl of the +Forest!</p> +<p>However, Kathryn, as was her wont when things went +wrong, pulled down the shade mentally, as once she had done +physically, against the distasteful conditions Brace had +evolved.</p> +<p>And there was much to be attended to––so Kathryn, with +great efficiency, set to work. She must make provision for +her aunt’s future. This was not difficult, for poor Anna was +so relieved that any provision was to be considered, that she +accepted Kathryn’s lowest figure.</p> +<p>Then there was Arnold. Sandy, at the moment, was disgusted +at Northrup’s return. It interfered with his plans. +Sandy had a long and keen scent. The trouble overseas had +awakened a response in him, he meant to serve the cause––but +in his own way. Secretly he was preparing. He was +buying up old vessels, but old vessels were expensive and the +secrecy prevented his borrowing money. He wanted to get +married, too. Kathryn, with only his protection and he +with Kathryn’s little fortune, would create, at the moment, +a situation devoutly to be desired.</p> +<p>Kathryn had to deal with this predicament cautiously. +Sandy was so horribly matter-of-fact––not a grain of Northrup’s +idealism about him! But for that very reason, in the +abominably upset state of the world, he was not lightly to be +cast on the scrap-heap. One never could tell! Brace might +act up sentimentally, but Sandy could be depended upon +always––he was a rock!</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></div> +<p>So Kathryn, embroidering her wedding linen––for she +meant to be married soon––prayed for guidance.</p> +<p>On the whole, the situation was most gratifying. No wonder +Kathryn felt well pleased with herself and more fully +convinced that, with such wits as hers, life was reduced to a +common factor. Once married she would be able to draw a +long breath. Marriage was such a divine institution for +women. It gave them such a stranglehold––with the right +sort of men––and Brace <i>was</i> the right sort.</p> +<p>To be sure he was not entirely satisfying at the present +moment. His attentions smacked too much of duty. He +could not deceive Kathryn. He sent flowers and gifts in +such profusion that they took on the aspect of blood money. +Well, marriage would adjust all that.</p> +<p>Helen urged an early date for the wedding and even Manly, +who did not like Kathryn, gripped her as the saviour of a +critical situation.</p> +<p>King’s Forest had had a sinister effect upon Manly; it made +him doubt himself.</p> +<p>And so life, apparently, ran along smoothly on the surface. +It was the undercurrents that were really carrying things +along at a terrific rate.</p> +<p>It was in his tower room that most of Northrup’s struggle +went on. Daily he confronted that which Was and Had To +Be! With all his old outposts being taken day by day, he +was left bare and unprotected for the last assault. And it +came!</p> +<p>It came as death does, quite naturally for the most part, +and found him––ready. Like the dying––or the reborn––Northrup +put his loved ones to the acid test. His mother +would understand. Kathryn? It was staggering, at this +heart-breaking moment, to discover, after all the recent +proving of herself, that Kathryn resolved into an Unknown +Quantity.</p> +<p>This discovery filled Northrup with a sense of disloyalty +and unreality. What right had he to permit the girl who +was to be his wife, the mother of his children, to be relegated +to so ignominious a position? Had she not proved herself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +to him in faithfulness and understanding? Had she not, +setting aside her own rights, looked well to his?</p> +<p>The days dragged along and each one took its toll of Northrup’s +vitality while it intensified that crusading emotion in +his soul.</p> +<p>He did not mention all this to those nearest him until the +time for departure came, and he tried, God knew, to work +while he performed the small, devotional acts to his mother +and Kathryn that would soon stand forth, to one of them at +least, as the most courageous acts of his life.</p> +<p>He had come to that part of his book where his woman +must take her final stand––the stand that Mary-Clare had +so undermined. If he finished the book before he went––and +he decided that it might be possible––his woman must rise +supreme over the doubts with which she had been invested. +But when he came to the point, the decision, if he followed +his purpose, looked cheap and commonplace––above everything, +obvious. In his present mood his book would be just––a +book; not the Big Experience.</p> +<p>This struggle to finish his work in the face of the stubborn +facts at moments obliterated the crusading spirit; the doubts +of Kathryn and even Mary-Clare’s pervading insistence. He +hated to be beaten at his own job.</p> +<p>Love’s supreme sacrifice and glory, as portrayed in woman––<i>must</i> +be man’s ideal, of course!</p> +<p>The ugly business of the world had to be got through, and +man often had to set love aside––for honour. “But, good +Lord!” Northrup argued, apparently to his useless right hand, +what would become of the spiritual, if woman got to setting +up little gods and bowing down before them? Why, she +would forego her God-given heritage. To her, love must be +all. Above all else. Why, the very foundations of life were +founded upon that. What could be higher to a woman? +Man could look out for the rest, but he must be sure of his +woman’s love! The rest would be in their own hands––that +was their individual affair.</p> +<p>And then, at this crucial moment, Mary-Clare <i>would</i> always +intrude.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></div> +<p>“It’s what one does to love!” That was her stern ultimatum. +“Love’s best proof might be renunciation, not +surrender!”</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” Northrup flung back. “How then could a +man be sure? No book with such an ending would stand a +chance.”</p> +<p>“You must not harm your book by such a doubt. That +book must be <i>true</i>, and you know the truth. Women must +be made glad by it, men stronger because someone understands +and is brave enough to say it.”</p> +<p>But Northrup steeled his heart against this command. +He meant to finish his book; finish it with a flaming proof +that, while men offered their lives for duty, women offered +theirs for love and did not count the cost, like misers or––lenders.</p> +<p>One afternoon Northrup, the ink still wet upon the last +sheet of his manuscript, leaned back wearily in his chair. +He could not conquer Mary-Clare. He let his eyes rest upon +his awakening city. For him it rose at night. In the day +it belonged to others––the men and women, passing to and +fro with those strange eyes and jaws. But when they all +passed to their homes, then the lone city that was his started +like a thing being born upon a hill.</p> +<p>It may have been at one of these strained moments that +Northrup slept; he was never able to decide. He seemed to +hold to the twinkling lights; he thought he heard sounds––the +elevator just outside his door; the rising wind.</p> +<p>However that may be, as clearly as any impression ever +fixed itself upon his consciousness, he saw Mary-Clare beside +him in her stained and ugly garb, her lovely hair ruffled as +if she had been travelling fast, and her great eyes turned +upon him gladly. She was panting a bit; smiling and thankful +that she had found him, at last in his city!</p> +<p>It was like being with her on that day when they stood on +the mountain near her cabin and talked.</p> +<p>Northrup was spellbound. He understood, though no +word passed between him and the girl so close to him. She +did not try to touch him, but she did, presently, move a step +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +nearer and lay her little work-worn hand upon the pile of +manuscript in that quaint way of hers that had so often made +Northrup smile. It was a reverent touch.</p> +<p>Standing so, she sealed from him those last chapters! She +would not argue or be set aside––she claimed her woman-right; +the right to the truth as some women saw it, as more +would see it; as, God willing, Northrup himself would see it +some day! He would know that it was because of love that +she had turned him and herself to duty.</p> +<p>Northrup suddenly found himself on his feet.</p> +<p>The little room was dark; the city was blazing about him––under +him. His city! His hand lay upon his manuscript.</p> +<p>Quietly he took it up and locked it in his safe. Slowly, +reverently, he set the bare room in order without turning on +the electricity. He worked in the dark but his vision was +never clearer. He went out, locked the door, as one does +upon a chamber, sacred and secret.</p> +<p>He did not think of Mary-Clare, his mother, or Kathryn––he +was setting forth to do that which had to be done; he was +going to give what was his to give to that struggle across the +ocean for right; the proving of right.</p> +<p>All along, his unrest had been caused by the warring elements +in himself––there was only one way out––he must +take it and be proved as the world was being proved.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX' id='CHAPTER_XX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +</div> +<p>“Mother, I must go!”</p> +<p>Helen Northrup did not tremble, but she looked +white, thin-lipped.</p> +<p>“You have given me the twenty-four hours, son. You +have weighed the question––it is not emotional excitement?”</p> +<p>“No, Mother, it is conscience. I’m not in the least under +an illusion. If I thought of this thing as war––a mere fight––I +know I would be glad to avail myself of any honourable +course and remain here. But it’s bigger than war, that Thing +that is deafening and blinding the world. Sometimes”––Northrup +went over to the window and looked out into the +still white mystery of the first snowstorm––“sometimes I +think it is God Almighty’s last desperate way to awaken +us.”</p> +<p>Helen Northrup came to the window and stood beside +her son. She did not touch him; she stood close––that was +all.</p> +<p>“I cannot see God in this,” she whispered. “God could +have found another way. I have––lost God. I fear most +of us have.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps we never had Him,” Northrup murmured.</p> +<p>“But there <i>is</i> God––somewhere.” Helen’s voice quivered. +“I shall always be near you, beloved, always, and perhaps––God +will.”</p> +<p>“I know that, Mother. And I want you to know that if +this call wasn’t mightier than anything else in all the world, +I would not leave you.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know that, dear son.”</p> +<p>For a moment they stood in silence by the window and +then turned, together, to the fireside.</p> +<p>They were in Helen’s writing-room. The room where so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +often she had struggled to put enough life into her weak little +verses to send them winging on their way. The drawers of +her desk were full of sad fancies that had been still-born, or +had come fluttering back to her ark without even the twig of +hope to cheer her. But at all this she had never repined––she +had her son! And now? Well, he was leaving her. +Might never–––</p> +<p>Sitting in the warmth and glow the woman looked at her +son. With all the yearning of her soul she wanted to keep +him; she had so little; so little. And then she recognized, as +women do, in the Temple where the Most High speaks to +them, that if he turned a deaf ear to the best that was in him, +she could not honour him.</p> +<p>“You have been happy, dear son? I mean you have had a +happy life on the whole?”</p> +<p>Helen had wanted that above all else. His life had been +so short––it might be so soon over, and the trivial untalked-of +things rose sharply now to the surface.</p> +<p>“Yes, Mother. Far too happy and easy.”</p> +<p>“I’ve been thinking.” Helen’s thought went slowly over +the backward road––she must not break! But she must go +back to the things they had left unspoken. “I’ve been thinking, +during the last twenty-four hours, of all the happenings, +dear, that I wish had been different. Your father, Brace! +I––I tried not to deprive you of your father––I knew the cost. +It––it wasn’t all his fault, dear; it was no real fault of either of +us; it was my misfortune, you see––he was asking what––what +he had a perfect right to ask––but I was, well, I had nothing +to give him that he wanted.”</p> +<p>Northrup went across the space between him and his +mother and laid his hand upon hers.</p> +<p>“Mother, I understand. Lately I have felt a new sympathy +for Father, and a new contempt. He missed a lot that +was worth while, but he did not know. It was damnable; +he might have––kept you.”</p> +<p>“No, Brace. It is the world’s thought. I have never +been bitter. I only wish he could have been happy––after––after +he went away.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div> +<p>“And he wasn’t?” This had never been discussed between +them.</p> +<p>“No, dear. He married a woman who seemed to be what +he wanted. She wearied of him. He died a lonely, a bitter +man. I was saved the bitterness, at least, and I had you.”</p> +<p>Another pause. Then:</p> +<p>“Brace, I know it will seem foolish, but perhaps when +you are far away it won’t seem so foolish. I want to tell +you, dear, that I wish I had never spoken a harsh word to +you. Life hurts so at the best––many women are feeling +this as I do, dear. Once––you must humour me, Brace––once, +after I punished you, I regretted it. I asked your +pardon and you said, ‘Don’t mention it, Mother, I understood.’ +I want you to say it now, son; it will be such a +comfort.”</p> +<p>“I believe, God hearing me, Mother, that I have understood; +have always known that you were the best and dearest +of mothers.”</p> +<p>“Thank you.”</p> +<p>“And now, Mother, there is one thing more. We may not +have another opportunity for a real house-cleaning. It’s +about King’s Forest.”</p> +<p>Helen started, but she stiffened at once.</p> +<p>“Yes, Brace,” she said simply.</p> +<p>“There is a girl, a woman there. Such things as relate to +that woman and me often happen to men and women. It’s +what one does to the happening that counts. I realize that +my life has had much in it; but much was left out of it. +Much that is common stuff to most fellows; they take it in +portions. It came all at once to me, but she was strong +enough, fine enough to help me; not drift with me. I wanted +you to know.”</p> +<p>“Thank you. I understand. Is there anything you +would like to have me do?”</p> +<p>“No. Nothing, Mother. It is all right; it had to happen, +I suppose. I wanted you to know. We did not dishonour +the thing––she’s quite wonderful.” A pause; then:</p> +<p>“She has a brute of a husband––I hope I freed her of him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +in a way; I’m glad to think of that now. She has a child, a +little girl, and there were some dead children.”</p> +<p>This detail seemed tragically necessary to tell; it seemed +to explain all else.</p> +<p>“And now, Mother, I must go around to Kathryn’s. Do +not sit up, dear. I’ll come to your room.”</p> +<p>“Very well.” Then Helen stood up and laid her hands on +his shoulders. “Some sons and daughters,” she said slowly, +convincingly, “learn how to bear life, in part, from their +parents––I have learned from my son.”</p> +<p>Then she raised her hands and drew his head down to hers +and rested her cheek against his. Without a word more +Northrup left the house. He was deeply moved by the scene +through which he and his mother had just passed. It had +consisted of small and trivial things; of overwhelmingly big +things, but it had been marked by a complete understanding +and had brought them both to a point where they could +separate with faith and hope.</p> +<p>But as Northrup neared Kathryn’s house this exalted feeling +waned. Again he was aware of the disloyal doubt of +Kathryn that made him hesitate and weigh his method of +approach. He stood, before touching the bell of the Morris +house, and shook the light snow from his coat; he was glad of +delay. When at last he pushed the button he instinctively +braced. The maid who admitted him told him that he was +to go to the library.</p> +<p>This was the pleasantest room in the house, especially at +night. The lighting was perfect; the old books gave forth a +welcoming fragrance and, to-night, a generous cannel coal +fire puffed in rich, glowing bursts of heat and colour upon the +hearth. Kathryn was curled up in the depths of a leather +chair, her pretty blonde head just showing above the top. +She did not get up but called merrily:</p> +<p>“Here, dear! Come and be comfy. This is a big chair +and a very little me.”</p> +<p>Northrup came around in front of the chair, his back to +the fire, and looked down upon the small figure. The blue +blur of the evening gown, the exquisite whiteness of arms, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +neck, and face sank into his consciousness. Unconsciously +he was fixing scenes in his memory, as one secures pictures +in a scrap-book, for the future.</p> +<p>“Been dining out, dear?”</p> +<p>The dress suggested this, but Kathryn was alert.</p> +<p>“Don’t be a silly old cave thing, Brace. One cannot throw +an old friend overboard in cold blood, now can one? Sandy +is going away for a week, but I told him to-night that never, +never again would I dine with him alone. Now will you be +good?”</p> +<p>Still Northrup did not smile. He was not concerned about +Arnold, but he seemed such a nuisance at this moment.</p> +<p>Kathryn, regarding Northrup’s face, sat up and her eyes +widened.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Brace?” she asked, and the hard, +metallic ring was in her voice. Northrup misunderstood +the change. He felt that he had startled her. He sat down +upon the arm of the chair.</p> +<p>“Poor little girl,” he whispered. Kathryn also misunderstood, +she nestled against him.</p> +<p>“Big man,” she murmured, “he <i>is</i> going to be nice. Kiss +me here––close behind my right ear––always and always that +is going to be just your place.”</p> +<p>Northrup did not seem to hear. He bent closer until his +face pressed the soft, scented hair, but he did not kiss the +spot dedicated to him. Instead he said:</p> +<p>“Darling, I am going away!”</p> +<p>“Away––where?” Kathryn became rigid.</p> +<p>“Overseas.”</p> +<p>“Overseas? What for, in heaven’s name?”</p> +<p>“Oh! anything they’ll let me do. I’m going as soon as I +can be sent––but–––”</p> +<p>“You mean, without any reason whatever, you’re going to +go over there?”</p> +<p>“Hardly without something that stands for reason, +Kathryn.”</p> +<p>“But no one, not even Doctor Manly, thinks that it is our +fight, Brace. The men who have gone are simply adventurers; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +men who love excitement or men who want to cut +responsibilities and don’t dare confess it.”</p> +<p>Kathryn’s face flamed hot.</p> +<p>“Their lives must be pretty damnable,” Northrup broke +in, “if they take such a method to fling them aside. Do try +to understand, dear; our women must, you know.” There +was pleading in the words.</p> +<p>Then by one of those sudden reversions of her nimble wits, +Kathryn recalled things she had heard recently––and immediately +she took the centre of her well-lighted stage, and +horrible as it might seem, saw herself, a ravishing picture in +fascinating widow’s weeds! While this vision was holding, +Kathryn clung to Northrup and was experiencing actual +distress––not ghoulish pleasure.</p> +<p>“Oh! you must not leave me,” she quivered.</p> +<p>“You will help me, Kathryn; be a woman like my mother?” +Again Northrup pleaded. This was unfortunate. It steadied +Kathryn, but it hardened her.</p> +<p>“You want me to marry you at once, Brace?” she whispered.</p> +<p>“No, dear. That would not be fair to you. I want you +to understand; I want to know that you will––will keep +Mother company. That is all, until I come home. I could +not feel justified in asking a woman to marry such a––such a +chance as I am about to be.”</p> +<p>Now there was cause for what Kathryn suddenly felt, but +not the cause she suspected. Had Northrup loved deeply, +faithfully, understandingly, he might, as others did, see that +to the right woman the “chance,” as he termed himself, +would become her greatest glory and hope, but as it was +Northrup considered only Kathryn’s best good and, gropingly, +he realized that her interests and his were not, at the +present, identical.</p> +<p>But Kathryn, her ever-present jealousy and apprehension +rising, was carried from her moorings. She recalled the evidences +of “duty” in Northrup’s attitude toward her since his +return from King’s Forest; his abstraction and periods of low +spirits.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span></div> +<p>“He cannot stand it any longer,” she thought resentfully; +“he’s willing to do anything, take any chance.”</p> +<p>A hot wave of anger enveloped Kathryn, but she did not +speak.</p> +<p>“Kathryn”––Northrup grew restive at her silence––“haven’t +you anything to say to me? Something I can +remember––over there? I’d like to think of you as I see you +now, little, pretty, and loving. The blue gown, the jolly fire, +this fine old room––I reckon there will be times when my +thoughts will cling to the old places and my own people rather +fiercely.”</p> +<p>“What can I say, Brace? You never see <i>my</i> position. +Men are selfish always, even about their horrible fights. +What do they care about their women, when the call of blood +comes? Oh! I hate it all, I hate it! Everything upset––men +coming back, heaven only knows how! even if they come at +all––but we women must let them go and <i>smile</i> so as to send +them off unworried. We must stay home and be <i>nothings</i> +until the end and then take what’s left––joyfully, gratefully––oh! +I hate it all.”</p> +<p>Northrup got up and stood again with his back to the fire. +He loomed rather large and dark before Kathryn’s angry +eyes. She feared he was going to say the sentimental regulation +thing, but he did not. Sorrowfully he said:</p> +<p>“What you say, dear, is terribly true. It isn’t fair nor +decent and there are times when I feel only shame because, +after all these centuries, we have thought out no better way; +but, Kathryn, women are taking part in this trouble––perhaps +<i>you</i>–––”</p> +<p>“You mean that <i>I</i> may go over into that shambles––if I +want to?” With this Kathryn sprang to her feet. “Well, +thanks! I do not want to. I’m not the kind of girl who +takes her dissipation that way. If I ever let go, I’ll take my +medicine and not expect to be shielded by this sentimentality.”</p> +<p>“Kathryn, how can you? My dear, my dear! Say what +you want to about my folly––men’s mistakes––but do not +speak so of your––sisters!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></div> +<p>“Sisters?” Kathryn laughed her mirthless but musical +laugh. “You <i>are</i> funny, Brace!”</p> +<p>Then, as was her way when she lost control, Kathryn made +straight for the rocks while believing she was guided by +divine intuition. She faced Northrup, looking up at him +from her lower level.</p> +<p>“I think I understand the whole matter,” she said slowly, +all traces of excitement gone. “I am going to prove it. Will +you marry me before you go?”</p> +<p>“No, Kathryn. This is a matter of principle with me.”</p> +<p>“You think they might not let you go––you’d have to provide +for my protection?”</p> +<p>“No, I am not afraid of that. You’d be well provided for; +I would go under any circumstances, but I will not permit you +to take a leap in the dark.”</p> +<p>“That sounds very fine, but <i>I</i> do not believe it!”</p> +<p>The black wings that poor Jan-an had suspected under +Kathryn’s fine plumage were flapping darkly now. Kathryn +was awed by Northrup’s silence and aloofness. She was +afraid, but still angry. What was filling her own narrow +mind, she believed, was filling Northrup’s and she lost all +sense of proportion.</p> +<p>“Is <i>she</i> going over there?” she asked.</p> +<p>Northrup, if possible, looked more bewildered and dazed.</p> +<p>“She––whom do you mean, Kathryn?”</p> +<p>“Oh! I never meant to tell you! You drive me to it, +Brace. I always meant to blot it out–––”</p> +<p>Kathryn got no further just then. Northrup came close to +her and with folded arms fixed his eyes upon her flushed face.</p> +<p>“Kathryn, you’re excited; you’ve lost control of yourself, +but there’s something under all this that we must get at. +Just answer my questions. Whom do you mean––by ‘she’?”</p> +<p>Kathryn mentally recoiled and with her back to her wall +replied, out of the corner of her mouth:</p> +<p>“That girl in King’s Forest!”</p> +<p>From sheer astonishment Northrup drew back as from a +blow. Kathryn misunderstood and gained courage.</p> +<p>“I forgave it because I love you, Brace.” She gathered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +her cheap little charms together––her sex appeals. “I understood +from the moment I saw her.”</p> +<p>“When did you see her? Where?”</p> +<p>Northrup had recovered himself; he was able to think. +He knew he must act quickly, emphatically, and he generously +tried to be just.</p> +<p>Keen to take advantage of what she believed was guilt, +Kathryn responded, dragging her lures along with her.</p> +<p>“Please, dear Brace, do not look at me so sternly. I could +not help what happened and I suffered so, although I never +meant to let you know. You see, I walked in the woods that +day that I went to King’s Forest to tell you about your +mother. A queer-looking girl told me that you lived at the +inn, but were then in the woods. I went to find you; to meet +you––can you not understand?”</p> +<p>The tears stood in Kathryn’s eyes, her mouth quivered. +Northrup softened.</p> +<p>“Go on, Kathryn. I <i>do</i> understand.”</p> +<p>“Well, I came to a cabin in the woods, I don’t know why, +but something made me think it was yours. You would be +so likely to take such a place as that, dear. I went in––to +wait for you; to sit and think about you, to calm myself––and +then–––”</p> +<p>“Yes, Kathryn!” Northrup was seeing it all––the cabin, +the silent red-and-gold woods.</p> +<p>“And then––she came! Oh! Brace, a man can never know +how a woman feels at such a moment––you see there were +some sheets of your manuscript on the table––I was looking +at them when the girl came in. Brace, she was quite awful; +she frightened me terribly. She asked who I was and I told +her––I thought that would at least make her see my side; +explain things––but it did not! She was––she was”––Kathryn +ventured a bolder dash––“she was quite violent. +I cannot remember all she said––she said so much––a girl +does when she realizes what <i>she</i> must have realized. Oh! +Brace, I tried to be kind, but I had to take your part and she +turned me out!”</p> +<p>In all this Northrup felt his way as one does along a narrow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +passage beset on either side with dangers. Characteristically +he saw his own wrong in originally creating the situation. +Not for an instant did he doubt Kathryn’s story; indeed, she +rose in his regard; for he felt for her deeply. He had, unwittingly, +set a trap for her innocent, girlish feet; brought +her to bay with what she could not possibly understand; and +the belief that she had been merciful, had accepted, in silence, +at a time when his trouble absorbed her, touched and humiliated +him; and yet, try as he did to consider only Kathryn, +he could not disregard Mary-Clare. He could not picture +her in a coarse rage; the idea was repellent, but he acknowledged +that the dramatic moment, lived through by two +stranger-women with much at stake, was beyond his powers +of imagination. The great thing that mattered now was +that his duty, since a choice must be made, was to Kathryn. +By every right, as he saw it, she must claim his allegiance. +And yet, what was there to be done?</p> +<p>Northrup was silent; his inability to express himself condemned +him in her eyes, and yet, strangely enough, he had +never been more desirable to her.</p> +<p>“Marry me, dear. Let me prove my love to you. No +matter what lies back there, I forgive everything! That is +what love means to a woman like me.”</p> +<p>Love! This poor, shabby counterfeit.</p> +<p>With a sickening sense of repulsion Northrup drew back, +and maddeningly his book, not Kathryn, seemed to fill his +aching brain. With this conception of love revealed––how +blindly he had misunderstood. He tried to speak; did speak +at last––he heard his words, but was not conscious of their +meaning.</p> +<p>“You are wrong, child. Whatever folly was committed in +King’s Forest was mine, not that girl’s. I suppose I was a +bit mad without knowing it, but I will not accept your sacrifice, +Kathryn, I will not ask for forgiveness. When I come +home, if you still love me, I will devote my life to you. We +will start afresh––the whole world will.”</p> +<p>“You are going at once?” Kathryn clutched at what was +eluding her.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></div> +<p>“Yes, my dear.”</p> +<p>“And you won’t marry me? Won’t––prove to me?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Oh! how can you leave me to think–––”</p> +<p>“Think what, Kathryn?”</p> +<p>“Oh! things––about her. It would be such a proof of what +you’ve just said––if only you would marry me now.”</p> +<p>“Kathryn, I cannot. I am––I wish that you could understand––I +am stepping out into the dark. I must go alone.”</p> +<p>“That is absurd, Brace. Absurd.” A baffled, desperate +note rang in Kathryn’s voice. It was not for Northrup, but +for her first sense of failure. Then she looked up. All the +resentment gone from her face, she was the picture of despair.</p> +<p>“I will wait for you, Brace. I will prove to you what a +woman’s real love is!”</p> +<p>So, cleverly, did she bind what she intuitively felt was the +highest in Northrup. And he bent and laid his lips on the +smooth girlish forehead, sorrowfully realizing how little he +had to offer.</p> +<p>A few moments later Northrup found himself on the street. +The snow was falling thicker, faster. It had the smothering +quality that is so mysterious. People thudded along as if +on padded feet; the lights were splashed with clinging flakes +and gleamed yellow-red in the whiteness. Sounds were +muffled; Northrup felt blotted out.</p> +<p>He loved the sensation––it was like a great, absorbing Force +taking him into its control and erasing forever the bungling +past. He purposely drifted for an hour in the storm. He +was like a moving part of it, and when at last he reached +home, he stood in the vestibule for many moments extricating +himself––it was more that than shaking the snow off. He +felt singularly free.</p> +<p>Once within the house, he went directly to his mother’s +room. She was lying on a couch by the fire. In the shelter +of her warm, quiet place Helen seemed to have gained +what Brace had won in the storm. She was smiling, almost +eager.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></div> +<p>“Yes, dear?” she said.</p> +<p>Northrup sat down in the chair that was his by his mother’s +hearth.</p> +<p>“Kathryn wanted to marry me, Mother, at once.”</p> +<p>“That would be like her, bless her heart!”</p> +<p>“I could not accept the sacrifice, Mother.”</p> +<p>“That would be like you––but is it a sacrifice?”</p> +<p>“It seems so to me.”</p> +<p>“You see, son, to many women this is the supreme offering. +All <i>they</i> can give, vicariously, at this great demanding +hour.”</p> +<p>“Women must learn to stop that rubbish, Mother. We +men must refuse it.”</p> +<p>“Why, Brace!” Then: “Are you quite, quite sure it +was all for Kathryn, son?”</p> +<p>“No, partly for myself; but that must include and emphasize +Kathryn’s share.”</p> +<p>“I see––at least I think I do.”</p> +<p>“But you have faith, Mother?”</p> +<p>“Yes, faith! Surely, faith.”</p> +<p>After a silence, broken only by the sputtering of the fire +and that soft, mystic pattering of the snow on the window +glass, Northrup asked gently:</p> +<p>“And you, Mother, what will you do? I cannot bear to +think of you waiting here alone.”</p> +<p>Helen Northrup rose slowly from the couch; her long, +loose gown trailed softly as she walked to the fireplace and +stood leaning one elbow on the shelf.</p> +<p>“I’m not going to––wait, dear, in the sense you mean. +I’m going to work and get ready for your return.”</p> +<p>“Work?” Northrup looked anxious. Helen smiled down +upon him.</p> +<p>“While you have been preparing,” she said, “so have I. +There is something for me to do. My poor little craft that +I have pottered at, keeping it alive and praying over it––my +writing job, dear; I have offered for service. It has been +accepted. It is my great secret––I’ve kept it for you as +my last gift. When you come home, I’ll tell you about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +it. While you are away you must think of me, busy––busy!”</p> +<p>Then she bent and laid her pale fine face against the dark +bowed head.</p> +<p>“You are tired, dear, very, very tired. You must go to +bed and rest––there is so much to do; so much.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI' id='CHAPTER_XXI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +</div> +<p>In King’s Forest many strange and awe-inspiring +things had happened––but, as far as the Forest people +knew, they were so localized that, like a cancer, they +were eating in, deeper and deeper––to the death.</p> +<p>The winter, with its continuous snow and cruel ice, had +obliterated links; only certain centres glowed warm and alive, +though even they ached with the pain of blows they had +endured.</p> +<p>The Mines. The Point. The Inn. The Little Yellow +House. These throbbed and pulsated and to them, more +often than of old––or so it seemed––the bell in the deserted +chapel sent its haunting messages––messages rung out by unseen +hands.</p> +<p>“There’s mostly lost winds this winter,” poor Jan-an whimpered +to Peneluna. “I have feelin’s most all the time. I’m +scared early and late, and that cold my bones jingle.”</p> +<p>Peneluna, softened and more silent than ever, comforted +the girl, wrapped her in warmer clothes, and sent her scurrying +across the frozen lake to the yellow house.</p> +<p>“And don’t come back till spring!” she commanded.</p> +<p>“Spring?” Jan-an paused as she was strapping on an old +pair of skates that once belonged to Philander Sniff. “Spring? +Gawd!”</p> +<p>It was a terrific winter. The still, intense kind that grips +every snowstorm as a miser does his money, hiding it in secret +places of the hills where the divine warmth of the sun cannot +find it.</p> +<p>The wind, early in November, set in the north! Occasionally +the “ha’nt wind” troubled it; wailed a bit and caught +the belfry bell, and then gave up and sobbed itself away.</p> +<p>At the inn a vague something––was it old age or lost faith?––was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +trying to conquer Peter’s philosophy and Aunt Polly’s +spiritual vision. The <i>Thing</i>, whatever it was, was having a +tussle, but it made its marks. Peter sat oftener by the fire +with Ginger edging close to the leg that the gander had once +damaged and which, now, acted as an indicator for Peter’s +moods. When he did not want to talk his “leg ached.” +When his heart sank in despair his “leg ached.” But Polly, +a little thinner, a little more dim as to far-off visions, caught +every mood of Peter’s and sent it back upon him like a boomerang. +She met his silent hours with such a flare of talk that +Peter responded in self-defence. His black hours she clutched +desperately and held them up for him to look at after she +had charged them with memories of goodness and love.</p> +<p>As for herself? Well, Aunt Polly nourished her own brave +spirit by service and an insistent, demanding cry of justice.</p> +<p>“’Tain’t fair and square to hold anything against the +Almighty,” she proclaimed, “till you’ve given Him a chance +to show what He did things for.”</p> +<p>Polly waxed eloquent and courageous; she kept her own +faith by voicing it to others; it grew upon reiteration.</p> +<p>Peter was in one of his worst combinations––silence and +low spirits––when Polly entered the kitchen one early afternoon. +A glance at the huddling form by the red-hot range +had the effect of turning Polly into steel. She looked at Ginger, +who reflected his master’s moods pathetically, and her +steel became iron.</p> +<p>“I suppose if I ask you, Peter, how you’re feeling,” she +said slowly, calmly, “you’ll fling your leg in my face! It’s +monstrous to see how an able-bodied man can use any old lie +to save his countenance.”</p> +<p>“My leg–––” Peter began, but Polly stopped him. She +had hung her coat and hood in the closet and came to the fire, +patting her thin hair in order and then stretching her small, +blue-veined hands to the heat.</p> +<p>“Don’t leg me, Peter Heathcote, I’m terrible ashamed of +you. Terrible. So long as you <i>have</i> legs, brother––and you +<i>have</i>!––I say use ’em. Half the troubles in this world are +<i>think troubles</i>, laid to legs and backs and what not.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span></div> +<p>“Where you been?” Peter eyed the stern little face glowering +at him. “You look tuckered.”</p> +<p>“I wasn’t tuckered until I set my eyes on you, Peter. +I’ve been considerable set up to-day. I went to Mary-Clare’s. +She is mighty heartening. She’s gathered all the +children she can get and she’s teaching them. She’s mimicking +the old doctor’s plan––making him live again, she calls it––and +the Lord knows we need someone in the Forest who +doesn’t set chewing his own troubles, but gets out and does +things!”</p> +<p>Peter winced and Polly rambled on:</p> +<p>“It’s really wonderful the way that slip of a thing handles +those children. She has made the yellow house like a fairy +story––evergreens, red leaves and berries hanging about, and +all the dogs with red-ribbon collars. They look powerful +foolish, but they don’t look like poor Ginger, who acts as if +he was being smothered!”</p> +<p>Peter regarded the dog by his side and remarked sadly:</p> +<p>“I guess we better change this dog’s name. Ginger is +like an insult to him. Ginger! Lord-a-mighty, there ain’t +no ginger left in him.”</p> +<p>“Peter, you’re all wrong. There are times when I think +Ginger is more gingery than ever. You don’t have to dash +around after yer tail to prove yer ginger, the thinking part of +you can be terrible nimble even when yer bones stiffen up. +Ginger does things, brother, that sometimes makes my flesh +creepy. Do you know what he does when he can get away +from you?”</p> +<p>“No.” Peter’s hair sprang up; his face reddened. Polly +noted the good signs and took heart.</p> +<p>“Why, he joins Mary-Clare’s dogs and fetches the littlest +children to the yellow house. Carries lunch pails, pulls sleds, +and I’ve seen that little crippled tot of Jonas Mills’ on Ginger’s +back. Ain’t that ginger fur yer? I tell you, Peter, +it’s you as ails that dog––he’s what you make him. I reckon +the Lord, that isn’t unmindful of sparrows, takes notice of +dogs.” Then suddenly, Polly demanded: “Peter, what is it, +just?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></div> +<p>Polly drew her diminutive rocker to the stove and settled +back against its gay cretonne cushions––a vivid bird of +Paradise flamed just where her aching head rested.</p> +<p>“Well, Polly”––Peter slapped the leg that he had lied +about––“you and I came to the Forest half a century ago +and felt real perky. We thought, under God, we’d make the +Forest something better; the people more like people. We +came from a city with all sorts of patterns of folks; we had +ideas. The Forest gave me health and we were grateful and +chesty. It all keeps coming back and––and swamping me.”</p> +<p>“Yes, brother, and what else?”</p> +<p>“At first we did seem to count, under God, of course. We +shut up the bar and fixed up the inn and we thought we was +caring for folks and protecting ’em.” Peter gulped.</p> +<p>“I guess the Lord can care for His own, Peter,” Polly remarked +fiercely.</p> +<p>“Then Maclin came!” Peter groaned out the words, for +this was the crux of the matter.</p> +<p>“Yes––Maclin came.” Aunt Polly wiped her eyes. “And +I think, looking back, that something had to happen to wake +us up! Maclin was a tester.”</p> +<p>Peter gave a rumbling laugh.</p> +<p>“Maclin a tester!” he repeated. “Lord, Polly, yer notions +are more messing than clearing.”</p> +<p>“Well, anyway, Peter Heathcote, Maclin came, and this I +do say: places are like folks––if their constitutions are all +right, they don’t take disease. Maclin was a disease, and we +caught him! He settled on us and we hadn’t vim enough to +know and understand what he was. If it hadn’t been Maclin +it would have been another. As things are I do feel that +Maclin has cleared our systems! The folks were wakened +by him as nothing in the world could have wakened them.”</p> +<p>Peter was not listening, he was thinking aloud.</p> +<p>“All our years wasted! We felt so sure that we was capable +that we just let folks fall into the hands of that evil man. +Think of anything, bearing the image of God taking advantage +of simple, honest people and letting them into what he +did!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></div> +<p>“I never did think Maclin was in the image of God, Peter. +All God’s children ain’t the spitting image of Him. And +Maclin certainly did us a good turn when he found iron on the +Point. The iron’s here––if he ain’t!”</p> +<p>“He meant to turn that and his damned inventions against +us. Betray us to an enemy! And us just sitting and letting +him do it!”</p> +<p>“Well, he didn’t do it!” Polly snapped. “And it seems +like God is giving us another chance; same as He is the world.”</p> +<p>Peter got up and stumped noisily about the kitchen much +to Ginger’s surprise and discomfort.</p> +<p>“We’re old, Polly,” he muttered; “the heart’s taken out +of us. We led ’em astray because we didn’t lead ’em right.”</p> +<p>“I’m not old.” Polly looked comically defiant. “And my +heart’s where it belongs and on the job. It’s shame to us, +Peter, if we don’t use every scrap that’s left of us to undo the +failings of the past.”</p> +<p>“And that night!” Peter groaned, recalling the night of +Maclin’s arrest. “That’s what comes of being false to yer +trust. Terrible, terrible! Twombley standing over Maclin +with his gun after finding him flashing lights to God knows +who, and then those government men hauling things out of +his bags––why, Polly, in the middle of some black nights I +get to seeing the look on Maclin’s face when he was caught!”</p> +<p>“Now, brother, do be sensible and wipe the sweat off yer +forehead. This room is stifling. Can’t you see, Peter, that +at a time like that the Lord had to use what He had, and +there was only us to use? Better Twombley’s gun than +Maclin’s, and you know, full well, they found two ugly looking +guns in Maclin’s bag all packed with papers and pictures +of the mines and bits of our own rock––what showed iron. +Peter, I ain’t a bloodthirsty woman and the Lord knows I +don’t hunger for my fellow’s vitals, but I’m willing to give +Maclin up to a righteous God. The Lord knows we couldn’t +deal with the like of him.”</p> +<p>“But, Polly”––poor Peter’s humanity had received a +terrible jog––“the look on Maclin’s face––when he was +caught!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></div> +<p>“Well! he ought to have had a look!” Polly snapped. +“Several of us gave him looks. I remember that the Point +men looked just as if it was resurrection day. They stiffened +up and <i>I</i> say, Peter Heathcote, their backs ain’t slumped yet––oh! +if only we could keep them stiff! It was an awful big +thing to happen to a little place like the Forest. It’s terrible +suggestive!”</p> +<p>But Peter could not be diverted.</p> +<p>“They were fearful rough with him––he, a trapped creature, +Polly! I always feel as if one oughtn’t to harry a trapped +thing. That’s not God’s way. It was all my fault! What +was I a magistrate for––and just standing by––staring?”</p> +<p>“Well, he should have held still––he put up fight. Brother, +you make me indignant.”</p> +<p>“They mauled him, Polly, mauled him. And they took +him––to what?”</p> +<p>Polly got up.</p> +<p>“Peter,” she said, “you’re a sick man or you wouldn’t be +such a fool. I always did hold that your easy-going ways +might lead you into mush instead of clear vision, and it certainly +looks as if I was right. What you need is a good +spring tonic and more faith in God. Maclin was leading us +into––what? Hasn’t he sent the old doctor’s boy into––what? +The Almighty has got all sorts to deal with––and he’s got +Maclin, but we’ve got what’s left. Peter, I put it up to you––what +are we going to do about it?”</p> +<p>“What can we do?” Peter placed his two hands on his +wide-spread knees––for he had dropped exhausted into his +chair. “Has any one heard of Larry?”</p> +<p>This sudden question roused Aunt Polly; she had hoped it +would not be asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, Peter. Twombley has,” she faltered.</p> +<p>“Where is he?” Peter’s mouth gaped.</p> +<p>“The letter said that when he came back we’d be proud of +him and”––Polly choked––“he begged our pardons––for +Maclin. He’s gone to that war––over there. He said it +was all he could do––with himself, to prove against Maclin.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></div> +<p>A silence fell in the warm, sunny room. Then Polly spoke +with a catch in her voice:</p> +<p>“Twombley and Peneluna hold that we better not tell +Mary-Clare. Better give Larry a chance to do his proving––before +we get any hopes or fears to acting up.”</p> +<p>“I guess that’s sensible,” Peter nodded, “he mightn’t do +it, you know.”</p> +<p>Polly was watching her brother. She saw the dejection +dropping from his face like a mask; the hypnotism of fear and +repulsion was losing its hold.</p> +<p>“It’s powerful hot here!” Peter muttered, wiping his face. +“And what in thunder ails that dog?”</p> +<p>Ginger was certainly acting queer. He was circling +around, sniffing, sniffing, his nose in the air, his tail wagging. +He edged over to the door and smelt at the crack.</p> +<p>“Fits?” Peter looked concerned. But Polly had an inspiration.</p> +<p>“I believe, Peter,” she said solemnly, “Ginger smells––spring! +I thought I did myself as I came along. There were +fluffy green edges by the water. I do love edges, Peter! +Let’s open the door wide, brother. We get so used to winter, +and live so close, that sometimes we don’t know spring is +near. But it is, Peter, it is always on the edge of winter and +God has made dogs terrible knowing. See! There, now, +Ginger old fellow, what’s the matter?”</p> +<p>Polly flung the door open and Ginger gave a glad cry and +leaped out. A soft breath of air touched the two gentle old +people in the doorway and a fragrance of young, edgy things +thrilled them.</p> +<p>“Peter dear, spring is here!” Polly said this like a prayer.</p> +<p>“Spring!” Peter’s voice echoed the sound. Then he turned +to the closet for his coat and hat.</p> +<p>“Where you going, brother?”</p> +<p>The big bulky figure, ready for a new adventure, turned at +the door.</p> +<p>“Just going to the Point and stand by! We must take +care of the old doc’s leavings. The iron, that boy of his, and––the +rest. Come on, Ginger.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></div> +<p>Polly watched the two pass from sight and then she readjusted +her spectacles to the far-off angle.</p> +<p>And while this was occurring at the inn there was a tap on +the door of the yellow house, and with its welcoming characteristic +in full play, the door swung in, leaving a tall woman +on the threshold flushed and apologetic.</p> +<p>“I never saw such a responsive door!” she said. “I really +knocked very gently. Please tell me how far it is to the +inn?”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare, her little group of children about her, looked +up and smiled. The smile and the eyes made the stranger’s +breath come a bit quicker.</p> +<p>“Just three miles to the south.” Mary-Clare came close. +“You are walking? I will send my little girl with you. +Noreen?”</p> +<p>But Jan-an was holding Noreen back.</p> +<p>“She’s one of them other children of Eve!” she cautioned. +“Don’t forget the other one!”</p> +<p>“Thank you so much,” the stranger was speaking. “But +may I rest here for a moment? These children––is it a +school.”</p> +<p>“A queer one, I’m afraid. We’re all teachers, all pupils––even +the dogs.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare looked at her small group.</p> +<p>“One has to do something, you know,” she said. “Something +to help.”</p> +<p>“Yes. And will you send the children away for a moment? +I have something to say to you.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare’s face went white. Since Maclin’s exposure +the girl knew a spiritual fear that never before had troubled +her. Maclin and Larry! Doubt, uncertainty––they had +done their worst for Mary-Clare.</p> +<p>When the children were gone the stranger leaned forward +and said quietly:</p> +<p>“I am Mrs. Dana––I am here on government business. +There, my dear Mrs. Rivers, please do not be alarmed––I +come as your friend; the friend of King’s Forest; it is on the +map, you know.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></div> +<p>The tears stood in Mary-Clare’s wide eyes, her lips trembled.</p> +<p>“I conscript you!” Mrs. Dana leaned a little further toward +Mary-Clare and took her hands. “I was directed to you, +Mrs. Rivers. You must help me do away with a wrong impression +of the Forest. Together we will tell a story to the +outside world that will change a great many things. We will +tell the truth and set the Forest free from suspicion.”</p> +<p>“Oh! can we? Why, that would be the most splendid +thing. We’re all so––so frightened.”</p> +<p>“Yes. I know. See, I have my credentials”––Mrs. Dana +took a notebook from her bag. “The mines––well, all the +danger there is destroyed. The mines are cleaned out.” +She was reading from her notes.</p> +<p>“Yes.” Mary-Clare was impressed.</p> +<p>“And there’s iron on the Point––we must get at that––you +own the Point?”</p> +<p>“No; I gave it to my husband.” The words were whispered. +“And he sold it to a Mr. Northrup.” There was no +holding back in King’s Forest these days.</p> +<p>“I see. Well, we must get this Mr. Northrup busy, then. +Where is he?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Dana tucked the book away and her eyes looked +kindly into Mary-Clare’s.</p> +<p>“I do not know. He went to his––to the city––New +York.”</p> +<p>“And you have never heard from him?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Well, Mrs. Rivers, I am your friend and the friend of the +Forest. Together, we ought to be able to do it a good turn. +And now, if you are willing, I would love to borrow your +little girl.”</p> +<p>On the lake road Noreen, after a few skirmishes, succumbed +to one of her sudden likings––she abandoned herself to Mrs. +Dana’s charm. With her head coquettishly set slantwise +she fixed her grave eyes––they were very like her mother’s––on +Mrs. Dana’s face.</p> +<p>“I like the look of you,” she confided softly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></div> +<p>“I’m glad. I like the look of you very much, little +Noreen.”</p> +<p>“Do you know any stories or songs?” Noreen had her +private test.</p> +<p>“I used to, but it has been a long while since I thought +about them. Do you know any, Noreen?”</p> +<p>“Oh! many. My man taught me. He taught me to be +unafraid, too.”</p> +<p>“Your man, little girl?” Mrs. Dana turned her eyes away.</p> +<p>“Yes’m. Jan-an, she’s a bit queer, you know, Jan-an says +the ghost-wind brought him. He only stayed a little while, +but things aren’t ever going to be the same again. No’m, +not ever! He even liked Jan-an, and most folks don’t––at +first. His name is Mr. Northrup, but Jan-an and I call him +The Man.”</p> +<p>“And he sang for you?”</p> +<p>“Yes’m. We sang together, marching along––this way!” +Noreen swung the hand that held hers. “Do you know––‘Green jacket, +red cap’?” she asked.</p> +<p>“I used to. It goes something like this––doesn’t it?</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“Up the airy mountain</p> +<p>Down the rustly glen–––</p> +</div></div> +<p>I have forgotten the rest.” Mrs. Dana closed her eyes.</p> +<p>“Oh! that’s kingdiferous,” Noreen laughed with delight. +“I’ll sing the rest, then we’ll sing together:</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“We daren’t go a-hunting</p> +<p><span class='indent2'> </span>For fear of little men.</p> +<p>Wee folk, good folk</p> +<p><span class='indent2'> </span>Trooping all together,</p> +<p>Green jacket, red cap</p> +<p><span class='indent2'> </span>And white owl’s feather.”</p> +</div></div> +<p>They were keeping step and singing, rather brokenly, for +Noreen was thinking of her man and Mrs. Dana seemed +searching, in a blur of moving men upon a weary road, for a +little boy––a very little boy.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></div> +<p>“Now, then,” Noreen insisted, “we can sing it betterer this +time.</p> +<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'> +<p>“Green jacket, red cap</p> +<p><span class='indent2'> </span>And white owl’s feather.”</p> +</div></div> +<p>Suddenly Noreen stopped.</p> +<p>“Your face looks funny,” she said. “Your lips are laughing, +but your eyes––is it the sun in your eyes?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Dana bent until her head was close to Noreen’s.</p> +<p>“Little girl, little Noreen,” she said, “that is it––the sun +is in my eyes.”</p> +<p>“There’s the inn!” Noreen was uncomfortable. Things +were not turning out quite as gaily as she hoped. Things +did not, any more.</p> +<p>“Shall I go right to the door with you?” she asked.</p> +<p>“No. I want to go alone. Good-bye, Noreen.”</p> +<p>“I hope you’ll stay a long time!” Noreen paused on the +road.</p> +<p>“Why, dear?”</p> +<p>“Because Motherly liked you, and I like you. Good-bye.”</p> +<p>And Mrs. Dana stayed a long time, though after the first +week her sojourn was marked by incidents, not hours.</p> +<p>“Seems like the days of the creation,” Peter confided to +Twombley. “Let there be light––there was light! Get the +Forest to work––and the Forest gets busy! Heard the church +is going to be opened––and a school. Queer, Twombley, +how her being a woman and the easy sort, too, doesn’t seem +to stop her none.”</p> +<p>Twombley shifted in his chair––the two men were sitting +in the spring sunshine by Twombley’s door.</p> +<p>“The Government’s behind her!” he muttered confidently. +“And, Heathcote, I ain’t monkeying with the Government. +Since that Maclin night––anything the Government asks of +me, I hold up my hands.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I reckon that’s safest.” Peter was uplifted, but +cautious.</p> +<p>“She’s set Peneluna to painting all the houses––yeller,” +Twombley rambled on, the smell of fresh paint filling his nostrils. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +“And you know what Peneluna is when she gets a +start. Colour’s mighty satisfying, Peneluna says; but I +guess there’s more in it than just colour. The Pointers get +touchy about dirt, and creepy insects showing up on the +’tarnal paint that’s slushed everywhere.”</p> +<p>“Mighty queer doings!” Heathcote agreed.</p> +<p>“The women are plumb crazy over this government +woman,” Twombley went on, “and the children lap out of +her hand. She and Mary-Clare are together early and late. +Thick as corn mush.”</p> +<p>Peter drew his chair closer.</p> +<p>“Her and Mary-Clare is writing up the doings of the +Forest,” he whispered. “Writing things allas makes me +nervous. What’s writ––is fixed.”</p> +<p>“Gosh! Heathcote; it’s like the Judgment Day and no +place to hide in!”</p> +<p>“That’s about it, Twombley. No place to hide in.”</p> +<p>And then after weeks of strenuous effort Mrs. Dana went +away as suddenly as she had come. She simply disappeared! +But there was a peculiar sense of waiting in the Forest and a +going on with what had been begun. The momentum carried +the people along. The church was repaired, a school house +started, the Point cleaned.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>The summer passed, another winter––not so cruel as the +last––and the spring came, less violently.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>It was early summer when another event shook the none-too-steady +Forest. Larry came home!</p> +<p>Jan-an discovered him sitting on a mossy rock, his back +against a tree. The girl staggered away from him––she +thought she saw a vision.</p> +<p>“It is––you, ain’t it?” she gasped.</p> +<p>“What’s left of me––yes.” There was a strange new note +in Rivers’s voice.</p> +<p>Jan-an’s horror-filled eyes took in the significance of the +words.</p> +<p>“Where’s––the rest of you?” she gasped.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></div> +<p>Larry touched the pinned-up leg of his trousers.</p> +<p>“I paid a debt with the rest,” he said, and there was that +in his voice that brought Jan-an closer to him.</p> +<p>“Where yer bound for?” she asked, her dull face quivering.</p> +<p>“I don’t know. A fellow gave me a lift and dropped me––here.”</p> +<p>“You come along home!” Jan-an bent and half lifted +Larry. “Lean on me. There, now, lean heavy and take it +easy.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare was sitting in the living-room, sewing and +singing, when the sound of steps startled her. She looked +up, then her face changed as a dying face does.</p> +<p>“Larry!” she faltered. She was utterly unprepared. +She had been kept in ignorance of the little that others knew.</p> +<p>“I––I’m played out––but I can go on.” Larry’s voice was +husky and he drooped against Jan-an. Then Mary-Clare +came forward, her arms opened wide, a radiance breaking +over her cold white face.</p> +<p>“You have come––home, Larry! Home. Your father’s +home.”</p> +<p>And then Larry’s head rested on her shoulder; her arms +upheld him, for the crutch clattered to the floor.</p> +<p>“My father’s home,” he repeated like a hurt child––“that’s +it––my father’s home.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII' id='CHAPTER_XXII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +</div> +<p>But beyond that exalted moment stretched the plain, +drear days. Days holding subtle danger and marvellous +revelations.</p> +<p>Larry, with his superficial gripping of surface things, grew +merry and childishly happy. He had paid a debt, God knew. +Shocked by the Maclin exposure, he had been roused to decency +and purpose as he had never been before. He felt +now that he had redeemed the past, and Mary-Clare’s gentleness +and kindness meant but one thing to Rivers. And he +wanted that thing. His own partial regeneration had been +evolved through hours of remorse and contrition. Alone, +under strange skies and during long, danger-filled nights, he +had caught a glimpse of his poor, shivering soul, and it had +brought him low in fear, then high in hope.</p> +<p>“Perhaps, if I pay and pay”––he had pleaded with the sad +thing––“I can win out yet!”</p> +<p>And sitting in the warm, sunny room of the yellow house, +Larry began to believe he had! It was always so easy for +him to see one small spot.</p> +<p>At the first he was a hero, and the Forest paid homage to +him; listened at his shrine and fed his reviving ego. But +heroes cloy the taste, in time, and the most thrilling tales +wax dull when they are worn to shreds. More and more +Larry grew to depend upon Mary-Clare and Noreen for +company and upon Jan-an for a never-failing listener to his +tales.</p> +<p>Noreen, just now, puzzled Mary-Clare. The child’s old +aversion to her father seemed to have passed utterly from +her thought. She was devoted to him; touched his maimed +body reverently, and wooed him from the sad moments that +presently began to overpower him.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></div> +<p>She assumed an old and protecting manner toward him +that would have been amusing had it not been so tragically +pathetic.</p> +<p>Every afternoon Larry took a nap, sitting in an old +kitchen rocker. Poised on the arm of the chair, her father’s +head upon her tiny shoulder, Noreen sang him to sleep.</p> +<p>“You’re my baby, daddy-linkum, and I’m your motherly. +Come, shut your eyes, and lall a leep!”</p> +<p>And Larry would sleep, often to awake with an unwholesome +merriment that frightened Mary-Clare.</p> +<p>One late summer afternoon she was sitting with him by +the open door. The beautiful hills opposite were still rich +with flowers and green bushes. Suddenly Larry said:</p> +<p>“It’s great, this being home!”</p> +<p>“I’m glad home was here for you to come to, Larry.” +Mary-Clare felt her heart beat quicker––not with love, but +the growing fear.</p> +<p>“Are you, honest?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Larry. Honest.”</p> +<p>“I wonder.” It was the old voice now. “When I lay +out there, and crawled along–––”</p> +<p>“Please, Larry, we have agreed not to talk of that!”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know, but even then, while I was crawling, I got +to thinking what I was crawling back to––and counting the +chances and whether it was worth while.”</p> +<p>“Please, Larry!”</p> +<p>“All right!” Then, in the new voice: “You’re beautiful, +Mary-Clare. Sometimes, sitting here, I get to wondering if +I really ever saw you before. Second sight, you know.”</p> +<p>“Yes, second sight, Larry.”</p> +<p>“And Noreen––she is mine, Mary-Clare.” This was +flung out defiantly.</p> +<p>“Part yours. Yes, Larry.”</p> +<p>“She’s a great kid. Old as the hills and then again––a +baby-thing.”</p> +<p>“We must not strain her, Larry, we cannot afford to put +too heavy a load on her. She would bear it until she dropped.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></div> +<p>“Don’t get talking booky, Mary-Clare. You don’t as +much as you once did.” A pause, then hardly above a +whisper: “Do you go to the cabin in the woods now, +Mary-Clare?”</p> +<p>“I haven’t been there for a long while, Larry.” Mary-Clare’s +hands clutched each other until the bones ached.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, Mary-Clare, God knows I am, for what I did +up there. It was the note as drove me mad. Across––over +there, I used to read that note, you and he were queer +lots.”</p> +<p>“Larry, I will not talk about that––ever!”</p> +<p>“You can’t forgive?”</p> +<p>“I have forgiven long ago.”</p> +<p>“Nothing happened between you and him, Mary-Clare. +You’re great stuff. Great! And so is he.”</p> +<p>A thin, blue-veined hand stole out and rested on Mary-Clare’s +head and Mary-Clare looked down at the empty place +where Larry’s strong right leg should have been. A divine +pity stirred her, but she knew now, as always, that Larry did +not crave pity; sympathy; and the awful Truth upheld Mary-Clare +in her weak moment. She would never again fail herself +or him by misunderstanding.</p> +<p>“When I’m well, Mary-Clare, you’ll be everything to +me, won’t you? We’ll begin again. You, me, and little +Noreen. You are lovely, girl! The lights in your hair +dance, your neck is white, and–––”</p> +<p>The heart of Mary-Clare seemed to stop as the groping +fingers touched her.</p> +<p>“Look at me, Mary-Clare!”</p> +<p>There was the tone of the conqueror in the words––Larry +laughed. Then Mary-Clare looked at him! Long and unfalteringly +she let her eyes meet his, and there was that in +them that no man misunderstands.</p> +<p>“You mean you do not care?” Larry’s voice shook like +a frightened child’s; “that you’ll never care?”</p> +<p>“I care tremendously, Larry, and I will do my best. But +you must not ask for more.”</p> +<p>“Good God! and I crawled back for this!” The words +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +ended in a sob; “for this! I thought I could pay but I +cannot––ever, ever!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>And in the distant city Helen Northrup waited for her +son. There had been a cable––then the long silence. He was +on the way, that was all she knew.</p> +<p>In the work-room Helen tried to keep to the routine of her +days. Her work had saved her; strengthened her. Her +contact with people had given her vision and sympathy. +She was marvellously changed, but of that she took little +heed.</p> +<p>And then Northrup came, unannounced. He stood in +the doorway of the room where his mother sat bent upon her +task on the desk before her. For a moment he hardly knew +her. He had feared to find her broken, crushed beyond the +hope of health and joy. He had counted that possibility +among the things that his experience had cost him. A wave +of relief, surprise, and joy swept over him now.</p> +<p>“Mother!”</p> +<p>Helen paused––her pen held lightly––then she rose and +came toward him. Her face Northrup was never to forget. +So might a face look that welcomed the dead back to life. +Just for one, poor human moment, they could not speak, +they simply clung close. After that, life caught them in its +common current.</p> +<p>The afternoon, warm and sunny, made it possible for the +windows to be open wide; there were flowers blooming in a +window-box and a cool breeze, now and again, drew the white +curtains out, then released them with a little sighing sound. +The peacefulness and security stirred Northrup’s imagination.</p> +<p>“It doesn’t seem possible, you know!” he said.</p> +<p>“Being home, dear?” Helen watched him. Every new +line of his fine brown face made her lips firmer.</p> +<p>“Yes. I’d given up hope, and then when hope grew again +I was afraid to crawl back. You’ll laugh, but I was afraid +to come home and find things just the same! I couldn’t have +stood it, after what I learned. I would have felt like a ghost. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +A lot of fellows feel this way. It’s all a mistake for our home +folks to think they’re doing the best for us by trying to fool +us into forgetting.”</p> +<p>“Brace, we’ve tried, all of us, to be worthy of you boys. +Even they who attempt the thing you mention are doing it +for the best. Often it is the hardest way.”</p> +<p>They were both thinking of Kathryn. Monstrous as it +might seem, Brace recalled her as she looked that day––pulling +the shades of the automobile down! That ugly +doubt had haunted him many times.</p> +<p>Helen was half sick with fear of what would occur when +Brace saw Kathryn.</p> +<p>“I ought not keep you, son,” she said weakly. “You +ought to go to Kathryn. No filial duty toward me, dear! +I’m a terribly self-sufficient woman.”</p> +<p>“Bully! And that’s why I want to have dinner with you +alone. I’ve got used to the self-sufficient woman––I like +her.”</p> +<p>It was long after eight o’clock, that first evening, when +Northrup left his mother’s house.</p> +<p>So powerfully hypnotic is memory that as he walked along +in the bland summer night he shivered and recalled the +snowstorm that blotted him out after his last interview with +Kathryn. With all earnestness he had prepared himself for +this hour. He was ready to take up his life and live it well––only +so could he justify what he had endured. His starved +senses, too, rose to reinforce him. He craved the beauty, +sweetness, and tenderness––though he was half afraid of +them. They had so long been eliminated from his rugged existence +that he wondered how he was again to take them as +his common fare.</p> +<p>He paused before touching the bell at the Morris house. +Again that hypnotic shiver ran over him; but to his touch +on the bell there was immediate response.</p> +<p>“Will you wait, sir, in the reception-room?” The trim +maid looked flurried. “I will tell Miss Kathryn at once.”</p> +<p>Northrup sat down in the dim room, fragrant with flowers, +and a sense of peace overcame his doubts.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></div> +<p>Now the Morris house was curiously constructed. The +main stairway and a stairway leading to a side entrance +converged at the second landing, thus making it possible +for any one to leave the house more privately, should he so +desire, than by the more formal way.</p> +<p>After leaving Northrup in the reception-room, the maid was +stopped by Miss Anna Morris somewhere in the hall. A +hurried whispered conversation ensued and made possible +what dramatically followed.</p> +<p>A door above opened––the library door––and it seemed to +set free Kathryn’s nervous, metallic laugh and Sandy Arnold’s +hard, indignant words:</p> +<p>“What’s the hurry? I guess I understand.” Almost it +seemed as if the girl were pushing the man before her. “I +was good enough to pass the time with; pay for your fun +while you weighed the chances.”</p> +<p>“Please, Sandy, you are cruel.” Kathryn was pleading.</p> +<p>“Cruel be damned! And what are you? I want you––you’ve +told me that you loved me––what’s the big idea?”</p> +<p>“Oh! Sandy, do lower your voice. Aunt Anna will think +the servants are quarrelling.”</p> +<p>“All right.” Sandy’s voice sank a degree. “But I’m +going to put this to you square–––” The two above had +come to the dividing stairways.</p> +<p>“What in thunder!” Sandy gave a coarse laugh. “Keeping +to the servant notion, eh? Want me to go out the side +door? Why?”</p> +<p>“Oh! Sandy, you won’t mind?––I have a reason, I’ll tell +you some day.”</p> +<p>There was a pause, a scuffle. Then:</p> +<p>“Sandy, you are hurting me!”</p> +<p>“All right, don’t struggle then. Listen. I’m going away +for two weeks. You promise if Northrup comes home, during +that time, to tell him?”</p> +<p>“Yes; yes, dear,” the words came pantingly smothered. +“All right, and if you don’t, I will! I’m not the kind to see +a woman sacrifice herself for duty. By the Lord! Northrup +shall know from you––or me! Now kiss me!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></div> +<p>There were the hurried steps––down the side stairs! +Then flying ones to the library––the maid was on her way +with her message––but Northrup dashed past her, nearly +knocking her over.</p> +<p>He strode heavily to the library door, which had been +left open, and stood there. A devil rose in him as he gazed +at the girl, a bit dishevelled, but lovely beyond words.</p> +<p>For a moment, smiling and cruel, he thought he would +let her incriminate herself; he would humiliate her and then +fling her off. But this all passed like a blinding shock.</p> +<p>Kathryn had turned at his approach. She stood at bay. +He frightened her. Had he heard? Or was it mad passion +that held him? Had he just come to the house refusing to +be announced?</p> +<p>“Brace! Brace!” she cried, her lovely eyes widening. +“You have come.”</p> +<p>Kathryn stepped slowly forward, her arms outstretched. +She looked as a captive maiden might before the conqueror +whose slave she was willing to become. As she advanced +Northrup drew back. He reached a chair and gripped it. +Then he said quietly:</p> +<p>“You see, I happened to hear you and Arnold.”</p> +<p>Kathryn’s face went deadly white.</p> +<p>“I had to tell him something, Brace; you know how Sandy +is––I knew I could explain to you; you would understand.” +The pitiful, futile words and tone did not reach Northrup +with appeal.</p> +<p>“You can explain,” he said harshly, “and I think I will +understand, but I want the explanation to come in my way, +if you please. Just answer my questions. Have you ever +told Arnold––what he just made you promise to tell me?”</p> +<p>Kathryn stood still, breathing hard.</p> +<p>“Yes or no!”</p> +<p>The girl was being dragged to a merciless bar of judgment. +She realized it and all her foolish defences fell; all but that +power of hers to leap to some sort of safety. There still was +Arnold!</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said gaspingly.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></div> +<p>“You mean you love Arnold; that only duty held you +to me?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Well, by God!” Northrup flung his head back and +laughed––“and after all I have been fearing, too!”</p> +<p>To her dying day Kathryn never knew what he meant by +those words. There was a moment’s silence, then Northrup +spoke again:</p> +<p>“I don’t think there is anything more to say. Shall I +take the side entrance?”</p> +<p>Outside, the summer night was growing sultry; a sound of +thunder broke the heavy quiet of the dark street––it brought +back memories that were evil things to remember just then.</p> +<p>“Good God!” Northrup thought, “we’re coming back to +all kinds of hells.”</p> +<p>He was bitter and cynical. He hardly took into account, +in that hard moment, the feeling of release; all his foregone +conclusions, his stern resolves, had been battered down. +He had got his discharge with nothing to turn to.</p> +<p>In this mood he reached home. More than anything he +wanted to be by himself––but his mother’s bedroom door was +open and he saw her sitting by the window, watching the +flashes of heat lightning.</p> +<p>He went in and stood near her.</p> +<p>“I’ve about concluded,” he said harshly, “that the fellows +who keep to the herd are the sensible ones.”</p> +<p>The words conveyed no meaning to Helen Northrup, but +the tones did.</p> +<p>“Sit down, dear,” she said calmly. “If this shower +strikes us, I do not want to be alone.”</p> +<p>Northrup drew a chair to the window and the red flashes +lighted his face luridly.</p> +<p>“Having ideals is rot. Dying for them, madness. Mother, +it’s all over between Kathryn and me!”</p> +<p>Helen’s own development had done more for her than she +would ever realize, but from out its strength and security +she spoke:</p> +<p>“Brace, I am glad! Now you can live your ideals.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></div> +<p>Northrup turned sharply.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” he said.</p> +<p>“Oh! we’ve all been so stupid; so blind. Seeing the false +and calling it the truth. Being afraid; not daring to let go. +My work has set me free, son. Lately I have seen the girl +that Kathryn <i>really</i> is, looming dark over the girl she made +us believe she was. I have feared for you, but now I am +glad. Brace, there <i>are</i> women a man can count on. Cling +hold of that.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know that, of course.”</p> +<p>“Women whose honour is as high and clear as that of the +best of men.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mother.”</p> +<p>Helen looked at the relaxed form close to her. She yearned +to confide fully in him, tell him how she had guarded his +interests while he fared afar from her. She thought of +Mary-Clare and the love and understanding that now lay +between her and the girl whose high honour could, indeed, +be trusted.</p> +<p>But she realized that this son of hers was not the kind of +man whose need could be supplied by replacing a loss with +a possible gain. He had been dealt a cruel blow and must +react from it sanely. The time was not yet come for the +telling of the King’s Forest story.</p> +<p>Northrup needed comfort, Heaven knew, but it must come +from within, not without.</p> +<p>At that instant Helen Northrup gripped the arms of her +chair and sent a quick prayer to the God of mothers of +grown sons.</p> +<p>“The storm seems to be passing,” she said quietly.</p> +<p>“Yes, and the air is cooler.” Northrup stood up and +his face was no longer hopeless. “Are you going to stay in +town all summer?” he asked.</p> +<p>“I was waiting for you, dear. As soon as you get settled +I must take a short trip. Business, you know. I do enjoy +the short trips, the comings home; the feeling of moving +along; not being relegated to an armchair.”</p> +<p>“Mother, how <i>did</i> you do it?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></div> +<p>“Oh! it was easy enough, once I threw off my own identity. +Identities are so cramping, Brace; full of suggestions and +fears. I took my mother’s maiden name––Helen Dana. +After that, I just flew ahead.”</p> +<p>“Well, I won’t hold you back. You’re too good for that, +Mother. I’ve kept the old tower room. I’m going to try +to finish my book, now. Somehow I got to thinking it +dead; but lately I’ve sort of heard it crying out for me. I +hope the same little elevator devil is on the job yet. Funny, +freckled scamp. He kissed me when I went away––I +thought he was going to cry. Queer how a fellow remembered +things like that over there. The little snapshots were +fixed pictures––and some rather big-sized things shrank.”</p> +<p>They bade each other good-night. Mother and son, +they looked marvellously alike at that moment. Then:</p> +<p>“I declare, I almost forgot Manly. How has this all +struck him, Mother?”</p> +<p>Helen’s face was radiant.</p> +<p>“Gave up everything! His hard-won position, his late +comfort and ease. He will have to begin again––he is where +he says he belongs––mending and patching.”</p> +<p>“He’ll reach the top, Mother. Manly’s bound for the +top of things.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +</div> +<p>Northrup found his tower room but little changed. +The dust lay upon it, and a peace that had not held +part during the last days before he went away +greeted him. More and more as he sat apart the truth of +things came to him; he accepted the grim fact that all, +everything, is bound by a chain, the links of which must hold, +or, if they are broken, they must be welded again together. +The world; people; everything in time must pause while +repairs were made, and he had done his best toward the mending +of a damaged world: toward righting his own mistakes.</p> +<p>It was slow work. Good God! how slow, and oh, the +suffering!</p> +<p>He had paid a high price but he could now look at his +city without shame.</p> +<p>This was a fortifying thought, but a lonely one, and it +did not lead to constructive work. The days were listless +and empty.</p> +<p>Northrup got out his manuscript––there was life in it, he +made sure of that, but it was feeble and would require intelligent +concentration in order to justify its existence.</p> +<p>But the intelligence and concentration were not in his +power to bestow.</p> +<p>After a few days he regarded his new freedom with strange +exhilaration mingled with fear and distrust.</p> +<p>So much had gone down in the wreck with Kathryn. So +much that was purely himself––not her––that readjustment +was slow. How would it have been, he wondered, back in +the King’s Forest days, had he not been upheld by a sense +of duty to what was now proven false and wrong?</p> +<p>One could err in duty, it seemed.</p> +<p>He was free! He had not exacted freedom! It had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +thrust upon him so brutally, that it had, for a spell, sent him +reeling into space.</p> +<p>Not being able to resume his work, Northrup got to +thinking about King’s Forest with concentration, if not intelligence.</p> +<p>He had purposely refrained, while he was away, from +dwelling upon it as a place in which he had some rights. He +used, occasionally, to think of Twombley, sitting like a silent, +wary watch-dog, keeping an eye on his interests. He had +heard of the Maclin tragedy––Helen Northrup felt it wise +to give him that information while withholding much more; +that was, in a way, public knowledge.</p> +<p>Things were at least safe now in the Forest, Northrup +believed. This brought him to the closer circle. He felt +a sudden homesickness for the inn and the blessed old pair. +A kind of mental hunger evolved from this unwholesome +brooding that drove Northrup, as hunger alone can, to snatch +whatever he could for his growing desire to feed upon.</p> +<p>He shifted his thoughts from Mary-Clare and the Heathcotes +to Larry Rivers. Where was he? Had he kept his +part of the bargain? What had Mary-Clare done with her +hard-won freedom?</p> +<p>Sitting alone under his dome of changing lights, Northrup +became a prey to whimsical fancies that amused while they +hurt.</p> +<p>As the lighted city rose above the coarser elements that +formed it, so the woman, Mary-Clare, towered over other +women. Such women as Kathryn! The bitterness of pain +lurked here as, unconsciously, Northrup went back over the +wasted years of misplaced faith.</p> +<p>The sweet human qualities he knew were not lacking in +Mary-Clare. They were simply heightened, brightened.</p> +<p>All this led to but one thing.</p> +<p>Something was bound to happen, and suddenly Northrup +decided to go to King’s Forest!</p> +<p>Once this decision was reached he realized that he had been +travelling toward it since the night of his scene with Kathryn. +The struggle was over. He was at rest, and began cheerfully +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +to make preparations. Of course, he argued, he meant to +keep the spirit, if not the letter, of his agreement with Larry +Rivers.</p> +<p>This was not safe reasoning, and he set it aside impatiently.</p> +<p>He waited a few days, deliberating, hoping his mother +would return from a visit she was making at Manly’s hospital +in the South. When at the end of a week no word came +from her, he packed his grip and set forth, on foot again, +for the Forest.</p> +<p>He did the distance in half the time. His strong, hardened +body served him well and his desire spurred him on.</p> +<p>When he came in sight of the crossroads a vague sense +of change struck him. The roads were better. There was +an odd little building near the yellow house. It was the +new school, but of that Northrup had not heard. From the +distance the chapel bell sounded. It did not have that lost, +weird note that used to mark it––there was definiteness +about it that suggested a human hand sending forth a +friendly greeting.</p> +<p>“Queer!” muttered Northrup, and then he did a bold +thing. He went to the door of the yellow house and knocked. +He had not intended to do that.</p> +<p>How quiet it was within! But again the welcoming door +swayed open, and for a moment Northrup thought the room +was empty, for his eyes were filled with the late afternoon +glow.</p> +<p>It was autumn and the days were growing short.</p> +<p>Then someone spoke. Someone who was eager to greet +and hold any chance visitor. “Come in, Mary-Clare will be +back soon. She never stays long.”</p> +<p>At that voice Northrup slammed the door behind him and +strode across the space separating him from Larry Rivers!</p> +<p>Larry sat huddled in the chintz rocker, his crutch on the +floor, his thin, idle hands clasped in his lap. He wore his +uniform, poor fellow! It gave him a sense of dignity. His +eyes, accustomed to the dimmer light, took in the situation +first; he smiled nervously and waited.</p> +<p>Northrup in a moment grasped the essentials.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span></div> +<p>“So you’ve been over there, too?” was what he said. +The angry gleam in his eyes softened. At least he and Rivers +could speak the common language of comrades-in-arms.</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ve been there,” Larry answered. “When I came +back, I had nowhere else to go. Northrup, you wonder +why I am here. Good God! How I’ve wanted to tell you.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m here, too, Rivers. Life has been stronger than +either of us. We’ve both drifted back.”</p> +<p>Larry turned away his head. It was then that Northrup +caught the full significance of what life had done to Rivers!</p> +<p>“Northrup, let me talk to you. Let me plunge in––before +any one comes. They won’t let me talk. It’s like +being in prison. It’s hell. I’ve thought of you, you’re the +only one who can really help. And I dared not even ask +for you!”</p> +<p>Larry was now nervously twisting his fingers, and his +face grew ashen.</p> +<p>“I’m listening, Rivers. Go on.”</p> +<p>Northrup had a feeling as if he were back among those +scenes where time was always short, when things that must +be said hurriedly gripped a listener. The conventions were +swept aside.</p> +<p>“They––they couldn’t understand, anyway,” Larry broke +in. “They’ve got a fixed idea of me; they wouldn’t know +what it was that changed me, but you will.</p> +<p>“Everyone’s kind. I haven’t anything to complain of, +but good God! Northrup, I’m dying, and what’s to be done––must +be done quickly. You––see how it is?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Rivers, I see.” There could be no mercy in deceiving +this desperate man.</p> +<p>“I knew you would. Day after day, lately, I’ve been +saying that over in my mind. I remembered the night in the +shack on the Point. I knew you would understand!”</p> +<p>“Perhaps your longing brought me, Rivers. Things like +that happen, you know.”</p> +<p>Northrup, moved by pity, laid his hand on the shrunken +ones near him. All feeling of antagonism was gone.</p> +<p>“It began the night I was shot,” Larry’s voice fell, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +“and Mary-Clare will not let me talk of those times. She +thinks the memory will keep me from getting well! Good +Lord! Getting well! Me!</p> +<p>“There were two of us that night, Northrup, two of us +crawling away from the hell in the dark. You know!”</p> +<p>“Yes, Rivers, I know.”</p> +<p>“I’d never met him––the other chap––before, but we got +talking to each other, when we could, so as to––to keep +ourselves alive. I told him about Mary-Clare and Noreen. +I couldn’t think of anything else. There didn’t seem to +be anything else. The other fellow hadn’t any one, he +said.</p> +<p>“When help came, there was only room for one. One had +to wait.</p> +<p>“That other chap,” Larry moistened his lips in the old +nervous fashion that Northrup recalled, “that other chap +kept telling them about my wife and child––he said he could +wait; but they must take me!</p> +<p>“God! Northrup, I think I urged them to take him. +I hope I did, but I cannot remember––I might not have, +you know. I can remember what he said, but I can’t recall +what I said.”</p> +<p>“I think, Rivers, you played fair!”</p> +<p>“Why? Northrup, what makes you think that?” The +haggard face seemed to look less ghastly.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen others do it at such a time.”</p> +<p>“Others like me?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Rivers, many times.”</p> +<p>“Well, there were weeks when nothing mattered,” Larry +went on, “and then I began to come around, but something +in me was different. I wanted, God hearing me, Northrup, +I wanted to make what that other chap had done for me––worth +while.</p> +<p>“When I got to counting up what I’d gone through and +holding to the new way I felt, I began to get well––and––then +I came home. Came to my father’s house, Northrup––that’s +what Mary-Clare said when she saw me.</p> +<p>“That’s what it is––my father’s house. You catch on?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></div> +<p>“Yes, Rivers, I catch on.” Then after a pause: “Let +me light the lamp.” But Rivers caught hold of him.</p> +<p>“No, don’t waste time––they may come back at any +moment––there’ll never be another chance.”</p> +<p>“All right, go on, Rivers.”</p> +<p>The soft autumn day was drawing to its close, but the west +was still golden. The light fell on the two men near the +window; one shivered.</p> +<p>“There isn’t much more to say. I wanted you to know +that I’m not going to be in the way very long.</p> +<p>“You and I talked man to man once back there in the +shack. Northrup, we must do it now. We needn’t be damned +fools. I’ve got a line on Mary-Clare and yes, thank God! on +you. I can trust you both. She mustn’t know. When it’s +all over, I want her to have the feeling that she’s played +square. She has, but if she thought I felt as I do to-day, +it would hurt her. You understand? She’s like that. +Why, she’s fixed it up in her mind that I’m going to pull +through, and she’s braced to do her part to the end; but”––here +Larry paused, his dull eyes filled with hot tears; his +strength was almost gone––“but I wanted you to help her––if +it means what it once did to you.”</p> +<p>“It means that and more, Rivers.”</p> +<p>Northrup heard his own words with a kind of shock. +Again he and Rivers were stripped bare as once before they +had been.</p> +<p>“It––it won’t be long, Northrup––there’s damned little +I can do to––to make good, but––I can do this.”</p> +<p>The choking voice fell into silence. Presently Northrup +stood up. Years seemed to have passed since he had come +into the room. It was a trick of life, in the Forest, when big +things happened––they swept all before them.</p> +<p>“Rivers, you are a brave man,” he slowly said. “Will +you shake hands?”</p> +<p>The thin cold fingers instantly responded.</p> +<p>“God helping me, I will not betray your trust. Once I +would not have been so sure of myself, but you and I have +been taught some strange truths.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></div> +<p>Then something of the old Larry flashed to the surface: +the old, weak relaxing, the unmoral craving for another’s +solution of his problems.</p> +<p>“Oh, it always has to be someone to help me out,” he said.</p> +<p>“You know about Maclin?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Rivers.”</p> +<p>“Well, I did the turn for that damned scoundrel. I got +the Forest out of his clutches.”</p> +<p>“Yes, you did when you got your eyes opened, Rivers.”</p> +<p>“They’re open now, Northrup, but there always has to +be––someone to help me out.”</p> +<p>“Rivers, where is your wife?” So suddenly did Northrup +ask this that Larry started and gave a quick laugh.</p> +<p>“She went to that cabin of hers––you know?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know.”</p> +<p>Both men were reliving old scenes.</p> +<p>Then Larry spoke, but the laugh no longer rang in his tone:</p> +<p>“She’ll be coming, by now, down the trail,” he whispered. +“Go and meet her, tell her you’ve been here, that I told you +where she was––nothing more! Nothing more. Ever!”</p> +<p>“That’s right, never!” Northrup murmured. Then he +added:</p> +<p>“I’ll come back with her, Rivers, soon. I’m going to stay +at the inn for a time.”</p> +<p>Their hands clung together for a moment longer while +one man relinquished, the other accepted. Then Northrup +turned to the door.</p> +<p>There was a dull purplish glow falling on the Forest. The +subtle, haunting smell of wood smoke rose pungently. It +brought back, almost hurtingly, the past. Northrup walked +rapidly along the trail. Hurrying, hurrying to meet––he +knew not what!</p> +<p>Presently he saw Mary-Clare, from a distance, in the +ghostly woods. Her head was bowed, her hands clasped +lightly before her. There was no haste, no anticipation in her +appearance; she simply came along!</p> +<p>The sight of youth beaten is a terrible sight, and Mary-Clare, +off her guard, alone and suffering, believed herself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +beaten. She was close to Northrup before she saw him. +For a moment he feared the shock was going to be too great +for her endurance. She turned white––then the quick red +rose threateningly, the eyes dimmed.</p> +<p>Northrup did not speak––he could not. With gratitude he +presently saw the dear head lift bravely, the trembling smile +curl her cold lips.</p> +<p>“You––have come!”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mary-Clare.”</p> +<p>“How––did you know––where I was?”</p> +<p>“I stopped at the yellow house. I saw your––I saw Larry––he +told me where to find you.”</p> +<p>“He told you that?”</p> +<p>The bravery flickered––but pride rallied.</p> +<p>“He is very changed.” The words were chosen carefully. +“He is very patient and––and Noreen loves him. She never +could have, if he had not come back! She––well, you remember +how she used to take care of me?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mary-Clare.”</p> +<p>“She takes care of her father in that way, now that she +understands his need.”</p> +<p>“She would. That would be Noreen’s way.”</p> +<p>“Yes, her way. And I am glad he came back to us. It +might all have been so different.”</p> +<p>There was a suggestion of passionate defence in the low, +hurried words, a quick insistence that Northrup accept her +position as she herself was doing.</p> +<p>“Yes, Mary-Clare. Your old philosophy has proved itself.”</p> +<p>“I am glad you believe that.”</p> +<p>“I have come to the Forest to tell you so. The things +that do not count drop away. We do not have to push them +from our lives.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I am glad to hear you say that.”</p> +<p>Mary-Clare caught her breath.</p> +<p>There seemed to be nothing to keep them apart now––a +word, a quick sentence were all that were necessary to bridge +the past and the present. Neither dared consider the future.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span></div> +<p>The small, common things crept into the conversation for +a time, then Mary-Clare asked hesitatingly:</p> +<p>“You––you are happy? And your book?”</p> +<p>“The book is awaiting its time, Mary-Clare. I must live +up to it. I know that now. And the girl you once saw here, +well! that is all past. It was one of those things that fell +away!”</p> +<p>There was nothing to say to this, but Northrup heard a +sharp indrawing of the breath, and felt the girl beside him +stumble on the darkening trail.</p> +<p>“You know I went across the water to do my part?” he +asked quickly.</p> +<p>“You would, of course. That call found such men as you. +Larry went, too!” This came proudly.</p> +<p>“Yes, and he paid more than I did, Mary-Clare.”</p> +<p>“He had more to pay––there was Maclin. Do you know +about Maclin?”</p> +<p>“Yes. It was damnable. We all scented the evil, but +we’re not the sort of people to believe such deviltry until it’s +forced upon us.”</p> +<p>“It frightened us all terribly,” Mary-Clare’s voice would +always hold fear when she spoke of Maclin. “I do not know +what would have happened to the Forest if––a Mrs. Dana +had not come just when things were at the worst.”</p> +<p>There are occurrences in life that seem always to have been +half known. Their acceptance causes no violent shock. As +Mary-Clare spoke that name, Northrup for a moment paused, +repeated it a bit dazedly, and, as if a curtain had been withdrawn, +he saw the broad, illuminating truth! “You have +heard of Mrs. Dana?” Mary-Clare asked. That Northrup +knew so much did not surprise her.</p> +<p>“Yes, of course! And it would be like her to drop in at +the psychological moment.”</p> +<p>“She set us to work!” Mary-Clare went on. “She is the +most wonderful woman I ever knew.”</p> +<p>“She must be!”</p> +<p>Slower and slower the two walked down the trail. They +were clutching the few golden moments.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></div> +<p>It was quite dark when they came to the yellow house. +The door was wide open, the heart of the little home lay bare +to the passer-by.</p> +<p>Jan-an was on her knees by the hearth, puffing to life the +kindlings she had lighted. Larry’s chair was drawn close +and upon its arm Noreen was perched.</p> +<p>“They always leave it so for me,” Mary-Clare whispered. +“You see how everything is?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I see, Mary-Clare.”</p> +<p>Northrup reached forth and drew the small clasped hands +into his own!––then he bent and kissed them.</p> +<p>“I see, I see.”</p> +<p>“And you will come in? Larry loves company.”</p> +<p>“Not to-night, Mary-Clare, but to-morrow. I am going +to stay at the inn for a few days.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I am glad!” Almost the brave voice broke.</p> +<p>“There is something else I see, my dear,” Northrup +ignored the poor disguise for a moment. “I see the meaning +of <i>you</i> as I never saw it before. You have never broken +faith! That is above all else––it is all else.”</p> +<p>“I have tried.” Upon the clasped hands tears fell, but +Northrup caught the note of joy in her grieving voice.</p> +<p>“You have carried on what your doctor entrusted to you.”</p> +<p>“Oh! thank you, bless you for saying that.”</p> +<p>“Good-night.” Northrup released the cold hands––they +clung for a moment in a weak, human way. “There is to-morrow, +you know,” he whispered.</p> +<p>Alone, a little later, on the road, Northrup experienced that +strange feeling of having left something back there in the +yellow house.</p> +<p>He heard the water lapping the edge of the road where +the sumach grew; the bell, with its new tone, sounded clearly +the vesper hour; and on ahead the lights of the inn twinkled.</p> +<p>And then, as if hurrying to complete the old memory, +Mary-Clare seemed to be following, following in the darkness.</p> +<p>Northrup’s lips closed grimly. He squared his shoulders +to his task.</p> +<p>He must go on, keeping his mind fixed upon the brighter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +hope that Mary-Clare could not, now, see; must not now +see. For her, there must be the dark stretch; for him the +glory of keeping the brightness undimmed––it must be a +safe place for her to rest in, by and by. “She has kept the +faith with life,” Northrup thought. “She will keep it with +death––but love must keep faith with her.”</p> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: 3.15 --> +<!-- timestamp: Sat Sep 26 05:45:39 -0400 2009 --> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30095 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |