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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of At the Crossroads, by Harriet T. Comstock
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: At the Crossroads
-
-Author: Harriet T. Comstock
-
-Illustrator: Walter De Maris
-
-Release Date: September 26, 2009 [EBook #30095]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE CROSSROADS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-AT THE CROSSROADS
-
-
-
-
-BOOKS BY HARRIET T. COMSTOCK
-
-  A Little Dusky Hero
-  A Son of the Hills
-  At the Crossroads
-  Camp Brave Pine
-  Janet of the Dunes
-  Joyce of the North Woods
-  Mam'selle Jo
-  Princess Rags and Tatters
-  The Man Thou Gavest
-  The Place Beyond the Winds
-  The Shield of Silence
-  The Vindication
-  Unbroken Lines
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: "_It might have seemed an empty house but for the
-appearance of care and a curl of smoke from the chimney._"]
-
-
-
-
-AT THE CROSSROADS
-
-BY
-
-HARRIET T. COMSTOCK
-
-FRONTISPIECE BY
-
-WALTER DE MARIS
-
-GARDEN CITY--NEW YORK
-
-DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
-
-1922
-
-
-
-
-COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
-
-ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO
-FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
-
-PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS,
-GARDEN CITY, N.Y.
-
-
-
-
-AT THE CROSSROADS
-
-
-
-
-AT THE CROSSROADS
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Manly was impressionistic in his methods of thought and expression.
-Every stroke told.
-
-The telephone had not rung for fifteen minutes but both men knew its
-potentialities and wanted to make the most of the silence.
-
-"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!"
-
-Manly looked at his friend and scowled.
-
-"Rot!" he ejaculated. Then added: "The world would not perish if you
-didn't write again."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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!"
-
-Northrup's face flushed.
-
-"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."
-
-"I wonder, Manly, I wonder. It's more like a divining rod to me,
-finding souls."
-
-"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 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."
-
-The telephone here interrupted.
-
-"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."
-
-Then he turned back to Northrup as if disfiguring a woman were a
-matter of no importance.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"What jogged you, Manly?"
-
-This was daring. People rarely questioned Manly.
-
-"It was seeing my soul!" Quite simply the answer came.
-
-There was a long, significant silence. Both men had to travel back to
-the commonplace and they felt their way gingerly.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup got up slowly.
-
-"I wonder if there is such a place?" he muttered.
-
-"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!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 the expression changed to one of
-startled wonder. It was the expression of one who, never expecting a
-surprise, suddenly is taken unawares.
-
-"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----"
-
-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.
-
-"The inn is three miles down the south road; the lake is just beyond.
-Follow that. They serve dinner at the inn at one."
-
-The voice was like the eyes, friendly, vital, and lovely.
-
-Then, as if staged, a clock set on a high shelf announced in crisp,
-terse tones the hour of twelve.
-
-"Thank you."
-
-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:
-
-"Now that he's gone, please go on. You got to where----"
-
-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."
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-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: "... _or
-a woman's face!_"
-
-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.
-
-"I might be a thousand miles from home," Northrup thought as he swung
-along.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-This was laughable.
-
-Northrup would not have been surprised at that moment to have seen The
-Face in the flaming bushes by the roadside.
-
-"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 fancies. There was not. The gold and
-scarlet hills rose unbroken to the left and the road wound divertingly
-by the lake.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-There was a stirring inside, a dog gave a sleepy grunt, and a man's
-voice called out:
-
-"The bolt's off."
-
-It would seem that doors were incidental barriers in King's Forest. No
-one was expected to regard them seriously.
-
-Northrup entered and then stood still.
-
-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.
-
-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 rosy, genial face; the eyes were
-small, keen, and full of humour, the voice had already given a
-suggestion of welcome.
-
-"You are Mr. Heathcote, I suppose?"
-
-Northrup was subconsciously aware of the good old mahogany furniture;
-the well-kept appearance of everything.
-
-"You've struck it right. Will you set?"
-
-"Thanks."
-
-Northrup took the chair opposite the master of the inn.
-
-"My name is Northrup, Brace Northrup from New York."
-
-"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.
-
-"Yes. I've taken my time, been a week on the way and, incidentally,
-recovering from an illness."
-
-"Pausing or staying on?"
-
-Northrup meant to say "pausing"; instead he found himself stating that
-he'd like to stay on if he could be accommodated.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Polly, this is Mr. Northrup, from New York"--was there 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."
-
-The woman regarded the candidate for her favour much as she might
-have a letter of introduction; quite impersonally but decidedly
-judicially.
-
-"If Mr. Northrup will take pot luck and _as is_, I think he can stay,
-brother."
-
-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.
-
-"Thank you," he ventured, "you'll find me most grateful and
-adaptable."
-
-"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."
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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."
-
-Devoutly Northrup vowed he'd be no snag.
-
-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.
-
-The water was ruffled now; the reflections trembled and the lapping
-was more insistent.
-
-The food was excellent. Aunt Polly had prepared it and watched, with a
-true artist's eye, her guest's appreciation of it.
-
-"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 _and_ soul."
-
-Heathcote chuckled.
-
-"And right you are, Aunt Polly!" Northrup said, watching the effect of
-his familiarity. Nothing occurred. He was being taken for granted.
-
-Bits of history crept into the easy conversation during the meal.
-Apparently meal-time was a function at the inn, not an episode.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Is there a village?" Northrup asked.
-
-"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!"
-
-Peter paused. Sustained conversation always made him pant and gave
-Polly an opportunity to edge in.
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Aunt Polly was picturesque. Peter eyed her admiringly and gave his
-comfortable chuckle.
-
-"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 _make_ 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."
-
-"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."
-
-"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?'"
-
-Northrup smiled grimly. This all fitted into his own vague mood of
-unreality.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes"--Polly began gathering the dishes--"it's what happens while one
-stops, that counts. That, and what one leaves behind, when he passes
-on. It's real queer, though, to have any one staying on this season of
-the year."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"I wonder who she is, and why she looks as she does?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup called himself to order just here. He wasn't going to be an
-ass, not if he could help it!
-
-"Strange voice!" he thought on. "It had _calls_ in it. I _am_ an ass!"
-he admitted, and in order to get the better of the situation he turned
-sharply and went back to the inn.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Maclin just then was the hub from which the spokes of curiosity led.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-He liked Northrup, believed in him, and while he sat and nursed his
-leg, he let Polly do her hinting.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Is there a church around here?" Northrup asked at last.
-
-"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."
-
-"What is the bell ringing for?" Northrup roused, more because the
-name of Mary-Clare had been introduced than because the bell
-interested him.
-
-He knew, now, that the girl in the yellow house was Mary-Clare. Her
-name slipped into sound frequently, but that was all.
-
-"Who is ringing the bell?"
-
-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.
-
-"No human hands are ringing the bell," she remarked quietly. "I hold
-one notion, Peter another. _I_ say the _bell_ is ha'nted; calling,
-calling folks, making them remember!"
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Then, as if the question escaped without his sanction and quite to his
-consternation, Northrup spoke again:
-
-"Who lives in the yellow house by the crossroads?"
-
-This was not honest. Northrup knew _who_. What he wanted to say, but
-had not dared, was: "Tell me about her."
-
-"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!"
-
-This slur escaped Peter, he was intent upon Northrup's question.
-
-"Seen that girl in the yellow house?" he asked. "Great girl,
-Mary-Clare. Great girl."
-
-"I stopped there on my way here to ask directions. Rather unusual
-looking girl."
-
-"She is that!" Peter nodded. Mary-Clare was about the only bit of
-romance Peter permitted himself. "Remember the night Mary-Clare was
-born, Polly?"
-
-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.
-
-Peter was in his element and drawled on:
-
-"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."
-
-"You needn't be sacrilegious, brother," Polly interjected. "The story
-won't lose anything by holding to reverence."
-
-"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 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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Good God!" ejaculated Northrup. "That's the grimmest tale I ever
-listened to. What came next?"
-
-"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?"
-
-Aunt Polly lifted the sock she was knitting and wiped her eyes.
-
-"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.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"So! that is your old doctor's place down by the crossroads?" he said
-with a genuine sense of relief.
-
-"It was. Ole Doc died seven years back."
-
-"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.
-
-"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 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!"
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-"I'm afraid you're tiring Brace, brother."
-
-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.
-
-"On the other hand," Northrup gave a relieved laugh, "I am intensely
-interested. You see, she looks so young, that Mrs.--Mrs.----"
-
-"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:
-
-"Yes; Mary-Clare holds her own and her boy-togs help the idea.
-Mary-Clare ain't properly grown up, anyway. 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."
-
-"How ridiculous you _are_, brother." Aunt Polly was enjoying her
-brother's flights, but felt called upon to keep him in order.
-
-"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.
-
-"'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:
-
-"'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, 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.
-
-"'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!'
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"Satisfied, _I_ say!" broke in Aunt Polly. "It _was_ 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."
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"How has it worked out?" Northrup heard the words as if another spoke
-them.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"I don't know as you ought to talk so free, brother." Polly looked
-dubious.
-
-"In the meantime," Northrup said quietly, "the little wife lives alone
-in the yellow house, waiting?" He hadn't heard Polly's caution.
-
-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?
-
-"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?"
-
-Again Northrup felt as he had that day by the lightning-shattered
-tree.
-
-"Her little girl?" he asked slowly, and Aunt Polly raised her eyes to
-his face. She looked troubled, vaguely uneasy.
-
-"Yep!" Peter rose stiffly. He wanted to go to bed. "Noreen's the
-saving from the litter. How many was there, Polly?"
-
-Polly got upon her feet, the trouble-look growing in her eyes.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"I am going to write!"
-
-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.
-
-"I think I'll turn in," he said, stifling a yawn, "Good-night."
-
-"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!"
-
-She smiled up at her guest as if he were an old friend--come back!
-
-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:
-
-  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 _do_
-  go on I want to do the job thoroughly and for a time lose myself.
-  I will wait your word, Mother.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-While he undressed, Northrup was sketching his plot mentally. In the
-morning it would be _fixed_; it would be more like copying than
-creating when a pen was resorted to.
-
-"I'll take that girl in the yellow house and do no end of things with
-her. Dual personality! Lord, and in this stagnant 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."
-
-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!
-
-Three days later a telegram came from Mrs. Northrup.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 nature to
-decide whether Kathryn Morris's silences brooded over a rare storeroom
-of treasure or over a haunted and empty chamber.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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
-_thought_ of it. Aloud she said, with that ravishing look of hers:
-
-"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."
-
-"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 _and_ 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.
-
-"Where do you think he'll go?" Kathryn asked.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Manly was impressed and while he was off on that scent, somehow
-Northrup got into the conversation.
-
-"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 _is_ disturbing."
-
-Here Kathryn quoted it and Manly grinned.
-
-"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."
-
-"Some of us have duties." Kathryn looked noble and self-sacrificing.
-
-"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 _is_ a job in his
-case. You wouldn't expect a travelling salesman to hang around his
-shop all the time, would you?"
-
-Kathryn had never had any experience with travelling salesmen--she
-wasn't clear as to their mission in life. So she said doubtfully:
-
-"I suppose not."
-
-"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
-_woman_ 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."
-
-Kathryn's eyes contracted, then she laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"They're as bitter as--well, they're quinine. You need toning up."
-
-"You think I need a change?" The tone was pensive.
-
-"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."
-
-"Which one, Doctor Manly?"
-
-"The one who is on her feet most."
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"I do, Noreen. It has been ten whole days since I had them."
-
-"Well, Motherly, why don't you go?"
-
-"And leave my baby alone?"
-
-"I'll get Jan-an to come!"
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes," Noreen sweetly acquiesced. "I'll come to the--the----" she
-waited for the word.
-
-"Yawning Gap," suggested the mother, reverting to a dearly loved
-romance.
-
-"Yes. I'll come to the Yawning Gap and I'll give the call."
-
-"And I'll call back: _Oh! wow!--Oh! wo!_" The musical voice rose like
-a flute and Noreen danced about.
-
-"And I'll answer: _wo wow!--oh!_" The piping tones were also
-flute-like, an echo of the mother's.
-
-"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."
-
-"Ah! yes, Motherly. It will be such fun. But if Jan-an can come here
-to stay, then what?" the voice faltered.
-
-"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."
-
-"Both ways are beautiful ways, Motherly. I don't know which is
-bestest."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Looking back over the years of her married life, Mary-Clare often
-wondered how she could have endured them but for the vision and
-strength she received in her "Place," as she whimsically called
-it--getting her idea from a Bible verse.
-
-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:
-
-  And the woman fled into the wilderness where she hath a place
-  prepared of God that they should feed her there.
-
-The words, roughly carved, were traced on the east wall of the cabin
-and under a picture of Father Damien.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Mary-Clare had come to a sharp turn on her road and, as yet, she
-could not see her way! She had drifted--she could, with Larry
-away--but now he was coming home!
-
-She had tried, God knew, for three long months to be sure. She _must_
-be sure, she was like that; sure that she _felt_ her way to be the
-_right_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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?
-
-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; 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.
-
-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:
-
-_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._
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-It had all seemed so simple, when one did not know!
-
-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. 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.
-
-Mary-Clare must not desert, as the unmentioned woman had.
-
-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."
-
-He had gone away tolerant, but with a warning: "A man isn't going to
-stand too much!"
-
-These words had been a challenge. There could be no more compromising.
-Pay-day had come for her and Larry.
-
-But the letters!
-
-At this thought Mary-Clare sat up rigidly. A squirrel, that had paused
-at her quiet feet, darted affrightedly across the cabin floor.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-And then the last child came, looked at her with its deep accusing
-eyes and died!
-
-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.
-
-And Larry was coming home. He had not understood when he went away: he
-would not understand now. Still, truth must be faced.
-
-The letters!
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Kiss me!"
-
-"No!"
-
-The words had been explosive. Then Larry had caught the child roughly,
-and Noreen had struck him!
-
-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.
-
-Looking back now, Mary-Clare realized that on the day 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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"Motherly, Motherly, he's come: he's come home!"
-
-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.
-
-"I'm coming, Noreen. I'm coming!" And Mary-Clare staggered on.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-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.
-
-"I was just coming down the path with Jan-an, Motherly, when I saw him
-going in the house."
-
-"Daddy, dear?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Noreen!" The tone was stern and commanding.
-
-"Well, Motherly, Jan-an said that, but maybe she was just funny."
-
-"Of course. Just funny. We must always remember, Noreen, that poor
-Jan-an is just funny."
-
-"Yes, Motherly."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-All day, with Jan-an's assistance, Mary-Clare prepared for the
-creature comforts of her husband; while Noreen 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.
-
-"I jes don't like the feelings I have," the girl reiterated; "I'm
-creepy."
-
-Mary-Clare packed a bag of food for her and patted her shoulder.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Touching Jan-an?" Noreen suggested sleepily.
-
-"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."
-
-"I love the wild wind!" Noreen pressed closer. "I'm not afraid of it.
-And it found Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter?"
-
-"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 _see
-her_ for a minute. And it made Uncle Peter--no; it left Uncle Peter as
-he is!"
-
-"I like that"--drowsily--"and it made us see the man that went to the
-inn?" Noreen lifted her head, suddenly alert.
-
-"What made you think of him, Noreen?" Mary-Clare stopped swaying to
-and fro.
-
-"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 _isn't_. Really we
-only think we see him."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-But Noreen, eyes obediently closed, was pleading in the strange,
-foolish jargon of her rare moments of relaxation:
-
-"You lit and lock, Motherly, and I'll luck my lum, just for to-night,
-and lall aleep."
-
-"All right, beloved; you may, just for to-night, suck the little
-thumb, and fall asleep while Mother rocks."
-
-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.
-
-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 now in the large upper room, only bare
-necessities were left here.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Mary-Clare tried to respond; tried to do her full part--it would all
-help so much, if she only could. But this mood 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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-How long Larry would have kept on it would have been hard to tell, but
-he suddenly looked full at Mary-Clare and--stopped!
-
-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!
-
-"What are you laughing at?" he asked.
-
-"I'm not laughing, Larry."
-
-"What are you smiling at?"
-
-"My smile is my own, Larry; when I laugh it's different."
-
-"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."
-
-There was some justice in this and Mary-Clare said slowly: "I'm sorry,
-Larry. I really was only thinking."
-
-Now that she was face to face with her big moment, Mary-Clare realized
-anew how difficult her task was. Often, in 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.
-
-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.
-
-"See here," he said rather gropingly, "you are not holding a grouch,
-are you?"
-
-"No, Larry."
-
-"What then?"
-
-For a moment Mary-Clare shrank. She weakly wanted to put off the big
-moment; dared not face it.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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.
-
-"You've never been the same since the last baby came." 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----"
-
-The long speech in the face of Mary-Clare's wondering, amazed eyes,
-brought Larry to a panting pause.
-
-"What you got a husband for, anyway, that's what I am asking you?"
-
-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.
-
-"By God! Mary-Clare, what's up? Have you counted the cost of carrying
-on as you are doing? What am I up against?"
-
-"Yes, Larry, I've counted the cost to me and Noreen and you. I'm
-afraid this is what we are all up against."
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Fire away!" Larry nobly suppressed a yawn. Had Mary-Clare said
-simply, "I don't love you any more," Larry 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.
-
-"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?"
-
-No reply came to this.
-
-"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."
-
-"Gee!" Larry shrugged his shoulders.
-
-"Larry, you _must_ try to understand!" Mary-Clare was growing
-desperate.
-
-"Then, try to talk American."
-
-"I am, Larry. _My_ American. That's the trouble--there is more than
-_one_ 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!"
-
-This, at least, was comprehensible.
-
-"Well, you _did_ 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.
-
-"I--why, yes, I am, Larry, but a wife means more than one thing,
-doesn't it?" This came hopelessly.
-
-"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.
-
-"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!"
-
-Just for one moment Larry was inclined to end this shilly-shallying by
-brute determination. He was that type of man. What did not come
-within the zone of his own experience, did not exist for him except as
-obstacles to brush aside.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-The simplicity of the question demanded a crude reply.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-The man attacked the grim spectre with conventional and brutal
-weapons; the woman backed away with a dogged look growing in her
-eyes.
-
-"Oh! you aren't, eh?" Larry spoke slowly. "You've decided, have you?"
-
-"I know what children mean to you, Larry; I know what you mean
-by--love--yes: I've decided!"
-
-"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?
-
-"Name the one particular way in which you're not going 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."
-
-"Oh! Larry, I wish you could be a little kind; a little understanding."
-
-"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."
-
-"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!"
-
-A tone of horror shook Mary-Clare's voice; she choked and Larry came
-closer, his lips were smiling.
-
-"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!"
-
-Mary-Clare gazed dully at him.
-
-"Well, then," she whispered, and her lips grew deadly white, "I do not
-know what to do."
-
-"Do? You'll forget it!" thundered Larry. "And pretty damned quick,
-too!"
-
-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.
-
-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 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.
-
-"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.
-
-"I've fixed the room upstairs for you, Larry."
-
-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.
-
-"The devil you have!" was what he said to gain time.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-"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, I was upset, I spoke too quick. Tell
-me now in your own way. I'll try to understand."
-
-Mary-Clare was taken off guard. Her desire and sore need rushed past
-caution and carried her to Larry.
-
-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."
-
-"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 _as_ they are. I'm
-not going to press you, Mary-Clare, I'm going to try and help you. You
-_are_ my wife, aren't you?"
-
-"Yes, oh! yes, Larry."
-
-"Well, I'm a man and you're a woman."
-
-"Yes, that's so, Larry."
-
-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.
-
-"Marriage was meant for one thing between man and woman!"
-
-This came out triumphantly. Then Mary-Clare threw back her head and
-spiritually retreated to her vantage of safety.
-
-"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."
-
-"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? What's the institution of marriage for,
-anyway?" And now Larry's mouth was again hardening.
-
-"Larry, oh! Larry, please don't make me laugh! If I should laugh there
-would never be any hope of our getting together."
-
-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.
-
-"Who's that man at the inn?" he asked.
-
-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.
-
-"I don't know," she said.
-
-"That's a lie. How long has he been here, snooping around?"
-
-"I haven't the slightest idea, Larry." This was not true, and Larry
-caught the quiver in the tones.
-
-Again he got up and became the masterful male; the injured husband;
-the protector of his home. There were still tactics to be tested.
-
-"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,
-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."
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Unconsciously she was planning her course. She would 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.
-
-Bending toward the dead fire on the hearth, Mary-Clare made her silent
-covenant.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-The storm had kept Northrup indoors for many hours each day, but he
-had put those hours to good use.
-
-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.
-
-"He's writing a book!" Aunt Polly confided to Peter. "But he doesn't
-want anything said about it."
-
-"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 _us_. 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?"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Manly read the letter, grinned, and put it in a box marked "Confidential,
-but unimportant."
-
-Then he leaned back in his chair, and before he relegated Northrup to
-"unimportant," gave him two or three thoughts.
-
-"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 fools"--Manly was thinking of Kathryn--"go nosing
-around and yapping at the creatures' heels and feel hurt when they
-turn and snap."
-
-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.
-
-Northrup had not been long at the inn when the significant dream
-came.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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 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.
-
-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----
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-When the hour came for _court_ 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.
-
-In the latter emergency Northrup sought his exercise and fresh air at
-a distance.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup had seen Maclin from his room window and, when all was safe,
-quietly took to the back stairs and silently reached the piazza.
-
-The window by Aunt Polly's couch was open a little higher than usual
-and the words that greeted Northrup were:
-
-"_I_ call it muggy, Mr. Maclin. That's what _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."
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-Maclin laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"We haven't ever called 'em that, Mr. Maclin. They're folks with
-nowhere else to live." Aunt Polly clicked her needles.
-
-"They're a dirty, lazy lot. I can't get 'em to work over at the mines,
-do what I will."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Maclin laughed. It was a trick of his to laugh while he got control of
-himself.
-
-"You're a real idealist, Miss Heathcote; most ladies are, some men
-are, too, until they have to handle the ugly facts of life."
-
-Peter was meant by "some men," Northrup suspected.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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, you're a
-woman of a thousand and can see what's what, I _am_ 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 _do_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-"How do you feel about it, Miss Heathcote?"
-
-"Oh! I don't let my feelings get the better of me till I know what's
-stirring them."
-
-Northrup stifled a laugh, but Maclin, feeling secure, laughed loudly.
-
-"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 _see_
-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."
-
-"Is her title clear to that land?" Maclin did not laugh now, Northrup
-noted that.
-
-"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."
-
-"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 be peaceful and happy if you will use your
-influence with her and the squatters. Will you?"
-
-Aunt Polly slipped from the sofa. Northrup heard her, and imagined the
-look on her face.
-
-"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!"
-
-Northrup again had difficulty in smothering his laugh, but Maclin's
-next move surprised and sobered him.
-
-"Isn't that place under the stairs, Miss Heathcote, where the bar of
-the old inn used to be?"
-
-"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?"
-
-They were sparring, these two.
-
-"No, it never does. I take things as they are, Miss Heathcote, and let
-them go at that. Now, if _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."
-
-"But you're not running this inn, sir."
-
-"Certainly I'm not _now_, 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."
-
-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.
-
-"Good afternoon," he muttered. "Looks more like clearing, doesn't it?
-Stranger in these parts? I've heard of you; haven't had the pleasure
-of meeting you."
-
-Northrup regarded Maclin coolly as one man does another when there is
-no apparent reason why he should not.
-
-"The clouds _do_ seem lifting. No, I'm not what you might call a
-stranger in King's Forest. Some lake, isn't it, and good woodland?"
-
-"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?"
-
-"I haven't decided exactly."
-
-"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 _can_ be shown."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"I hope you kept your ears open," she exclaimed when she turned to
-Northrup.
-
-"I did, Aunt Polly! Come, sit down and let's talk it over."
-
-Polly obeyed at once and let restraint drop.
-
-"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."
-
-"He cannot get a hold on you, Aunt Polly. Surely your brother is more
-than a match for any one like Maclin."
-
-"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?"
-
-Northrup looked interested.
-
-"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."
-
-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 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 _knowing_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 his
-identity and moves among his fellows, intent on the present, but with
-the background a blank.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 r�le alarmed him; made every fibre of his being
-stiffen. The man was undoubtedly German, though his name was not. What
-was he up to?
-
-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 co�peration.
-
-At this point something caused Northrup to look around.
-
-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. The sunny room, the children, the
-dogs, and the girl on the table, who had soon become so familiar to
-him.
-
-"Good Lord!" he ejaculated. "And who are you?"
-
-"Jan-an."
-
-Another name become a person! Northrup smiled. They were all
-materializing; the names, the stories.
-
-"I see. Well?"
-
-There was a pause. The girl was studying him slowly, almost painfully,
-but she did not speak.
-
-"Where do you live, Jan-an?"
-
-This made talk and filled an uncomfortable pause.
-
-"One place and another. I was left."
-
-"Left?"
-
-"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."
-
-The girl was inclined to be friendly and she was amusing.
-
-"Did you hear the bell ring the night you came--the ha'nt bell?" she
-asked.
-
-"I certainly did."
-
-"'Twas a warning, and then here _you_ are! Generally warnings mean bad
-things, but Aunt Polly says you're right enough and generally they
-ain't when they're young."
-
-"Who are not, Jan-an?"
-
-"Men. When they get old, like Uncle Peter, they meller or----"
-
-"Or what?"
-
-"Naturally drop off."
-
-Northrup laughed. The sound disturbed the girl and she scowled.
-
-"It's terrible to have folks think you're a fool to be laughed at,"
-she muttered. "I can't get things over."
-
-"What do you want to get over, Jan-an?"
-
-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 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.
-
-"Yer feelin's," the girl answered simply. "When you don' understand
-like most do, yer feelin's count, they do!"
-
-"They certainly do, Jan-an."
-
-The girl considered this and struggled, evidently, to adjust her
-companion to suit her needs, but at last she shook her head.
-
-"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----"
-
-"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.
-
-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."
-
-"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.
-
-"That's one on me, Jan-an!" Northrup laughed. "I was afraid I'd be
-found out."
-
-"Can't yer read?" Jan-an could not utterly distrust this person who
-was puzzling her.
-
-"Yes, I can read and write, Jan-an."
-
-"Then what in tarnation made yer plump in that way?"
-
-"The Lord knows, Jan-an!" Almost the tone was reverent.
-
-"Then _he_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"He ain't mine. If he was----" Jan-an looked mutinous and Northrup
-laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"Well, that's ridiculous." Northrup found his heart beating a bit
-quicker.
-
-"I know it is, but Maclin can make Larry think anything. Honest to
-God, yer ain't siding 'long of Maclin?"
-
-"Honest to God, Jan-an, I'm not."
-
-"Then why did yer stumble in on us that way?"
-
-"I don't know, Jan-an. That's honest to God, too!"
-
-"Then if nothing is mattering ter yer, and one place is as good as
-another, why don't you go along?"
-
-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.
-
-"Well, Jan-an," he said at last, "it's this way. Things _are_
-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?"
-
-Jan-an was making strenuous efforts to "catch on"; her face appeared
-like a rubber mask that unseen fingers were pinching into comical
-expressions.
-
-Northrup began to wonder just how mentally lacking the girl was.
-
-"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!"
-
-"What thing?"
-
-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.
-
-"What thing?" she asked huskily. Then Northrup laughed that disturbing
-laugh of his.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Good! I'll never be really lonely then, and you'll sooner get to
-trusting me."
-
-"I ain't much for trusting till I knows."
-
-The girl turned and strode away. "Well, if you ever need me, try me
-out, Jan-an. Good-bye."
-
-Northrup felt ill at ease after Jan-an passed from sight.
-
-"Of all the messes!" he thought. "It makes me superstitious. What's
-the matter with this Forest?"
-
-And then Maclin again came into focus. Around Maclin, apparently, the
-public thought revolved.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-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.
-
-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 _had_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-Then Mary-Clare, seized by one of those presentiments that often light
-a dark moment, closed the door, shivering slightly, and went
-upstairs.
-
-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 the fresh, that had
-been placed in the bureau drawers, was rolled in a bundle and flung on
-the hearth.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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 _were_ his letters, but----
-
-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! _so_
-right. There was only one real fact to face. Larry was gone; the
-letters were gone.
-
-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.
-
-Then with white face and chattering teeth she turned and 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.
-
-"What's up?" she asked in her dull, even tones, while in her vacant
-eyes the groping, tender look grew.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-This question steadied Mary-Clare. "I'm not _sure_, Jan-an, that any
-one has _taken_ the letters. You know how careless I am. I may have
-put them somewhere else."
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare gave a nervous laugh.
-
-"Just old letters," she murmured, "but they meant, oh! they meant so
-much. Come," she said suddenly, "come, I must dress and get
-breakfast."
-
-"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!"
-
-Things were reduced to the commonplace in an hour.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare set her cup down sharply while Noreen with one of those
-whimsical turns of hers drawled in a sing-song:
-
-"Old Philander Sniff, he died just like a whiff----"
-
-"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.
-
-"Well, Motherly, Philander was a cruel old man. Just being dead don't
-make him anything different but--dead."
-
-"Noreen, you must keep quiet. Jan-an, tell me about it."
-
-Mary-Clare's voice commanded the situation. Jan-an's stony gurgle
-ceased and she began relating what she had come to tell.
-
-"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."
-
-"Old Philander Sniff----" began Noreen's chant as she slipped from her
-chair intent upon a doll by the hearthside.
-
-Mary-Clare took no notice of her but nodded to Jan-an.
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare visualized the dramatic scene that poor Jan-an was mumbling
-monotonously.
-
-"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 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 _and_ the funeral
-one, both!' Jes' like that she said it. Both!"
-
-"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."
-
-"Take both!" Jan-an was nodding her willingness to obey. And
-Mary-Clare took her prayer-book with her.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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."
-
-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 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.
-
-"Some mightn't," poor Peneluna had said to Aunt Polly in defence of
-Sniff.
-
-As far as any one knew the crabbed old man never spoke to his devoted
-neighbour, but she had never complained.
-
-"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.
-
-She made her way to the far end of the Point, passing wide-eyed
-children at play and curious women in doorways.
-
-"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.
-
-"She will presently," Mary-Clare reassured them. "She'll need you all,
-later."
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-The gaunt old woman was in the rusty black she had kept in readiness
-for years; she wore gloves and bonnet; the long cr�pe veil and the
-absurd red rose wobbled dejectedly as Peneluna moved about.
-
-"Come in, child, and shut the world out." Then, leading the way to an
-inner room, "Have yer got _both_ services?"
-
-"Yes, Peneluna." Then Mary-Clare started back.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-This was the one thing needed to rouse Mary-Clare.
-
-"I'll do my best, Peneluna," she whispered, and clutched the
-prayer-book.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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 _might_ 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."
-
-Opening the book with stiff, cold fingers, Mary-Clare read softly,
-brokenly, the solemn words.
-
-At the close Peneluna stood up.
-
-"Him and me, Mary-Clare," she said, "'fore God and you is husband and
-wife." Then she removed the red rose from her bonnet, laid it upon
-the folded wrinkled hands of the dead man and drew the sheet over
-him.
-
-Just then, outside the window, a bird flew past, peeped in, fluttered
-away, singing.
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-There was a heavy pause while Mary-Clare waited.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Drifting about in Mary-Clare's thought a scrap of old scandal stirred,
-but it had little to feed on and passed.
-
-"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
-and sings gets like whiskey in the head, and Philander didn't
-rightfully know what he was about."
-
-Peneluna drew the end of her cr�pe veil up and wiped her eyes.
-
-"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.
-
-"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.'"
-
-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?
-
-But Peneluna was talking on, her poor old face twitching.
-
-"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 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."
-
-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?
-
-When the service came to an end, Peneluna arose and with grave dignity
-walked from the room, Mary-Clare following.
-
-"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."
-
-Then Mary-Clare asked the question that was hurting her with its
-weight.
-
-"Peneluna, was it love, the thing that made you glad, through it all,
-just to wait?"
-
-"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."
-
-"And it paid?"
-
-"I don't know. I only know I was glad, when he called last night, that
-I was waiting."
-
-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.
-
-"What are you going to do now?" she asked.
-
-"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 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."
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-There was a rich gurgle in the flute-like voice; it came floating
-along.
-
-"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."
-
-"All right. Here goes!
-
-    "Up the airy mountain,
-    Down the rustly glen--
-
-that's the way, Noreen, scuffle your feet in the leaves--
-
-    "We daren't go a-hunting
-    For fear of little men.
-    Wee folk, good folk
-    Trooping all together,
-    Green jacket, red cap,
-    And white owl's feather--
-
-Here, you, Noreen, play fair; scuffle and keep step, you little
-beggar!"
-
-"But I may step on the wee men, the good men," again the rich
-chuckle.
-
-"No, you won't if you scuffle and then step high; they'll slip between
-your feet."
-
-Then came the tramp, tramp of the oncoming pair. Big feet, little
-feet. Long strides and short hops.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Thank you, Mr.----"
-
-"Northrup."
-
-"Thank you, Mr. Northrup. You have made Noreen very happy--and she
-does not make friends easily."
-
-"But, Motherly," Noreen was flushed and eager. "_He_ 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?"
-
-Northrup laughed.
-
-"Well, something like that," he admitted. "May I walk along with you,
-Mrs. Rivers? Unless I go around the lake, I must turn back."
-
-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.
-
-"How on earth could she manage to be what she is?" pondered Northrup.
-"She's read and thought to some purpose."
-
-"What does he mean by being here?" pondered Mary-Clare. "This isn't
-just a happening."
-
-But they chatted pleasantly while they pondered.
-
-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.
-
-"She's tired," murmured Mary-Clare, but she knew that that was not
-what ailed Noreen.
-
-And then she looked toward her house. Larry stood in the doorway,
-smoking and smiling.
-
-"Will you come and meet my husband?" she asked of Northrup.
-
-"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.
-
-Mary-Clare nodded. She was mutely thankful when he strode on ahead and
-toward the lake.
-
-It was while they were eating their evening meal that Larry remarked
-casually:
-
-"So that's the Northrup fellow, is it?" Mary-Clare flushed and had a
-sensation of being lassoed by an invisible hand.
-
-"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."
-
-"He seemed to know that you weren't home."
-
-"Children come in handy," Larry smiled pleasantly. "More potato,
-Mary-Clare?"
-
-"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----"
-
-"Why the explanation?" Larry looked blank and again Mary-Clare
-flushed.
-
-"I felt one was needed."
-
-"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."
-
-This was unfortunate, but Larry was ill at ease.
-
-"Maclin doesn't own the Point, Larry."
-
-"You better listen to Maclin and not Peter Heathcote." Larry retraced
-his steps. His doubt of Northrup had led him astray.
-
-Mary-Clare gave him a startled look.
-
-"Maclin's a brute," she said quietly. "I prefer to listen to my
-friends."
-
-"Maclin's our friend. Yours and mine. You'll learn that some day."
-
-"I doubt it, Larry, but he's your employer and I do not forget that."
-
-"I wouldn't. And you're going to change your mind some fine day, my
-girl, about a lot of things."
-
-"Perhaps."
-
-"I'm sleeping outside, Mary-Clare." Larry rose lazily. "I just dropped
-in to--to call." He laughed unpleasantly.
-
-"I'm sorry, Larry, that you feel as you do."
-
-"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."
-
-"All right, Larry." Mary-Clare's eyes flickered. Then: "Why did you
-take those letters?"
-
-Larry looked blankly at her.
-
-"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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Never force a woman," he confided to Larry at that juncture, "that
-is, if she is independent."
-
-"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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 _my_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-And in this mood he reached Maclin; accepted a cigar and stretched his
-feet toward the fire in his owner's office.
-
-Maclin was in a humanly soothing mood. He fairly crooned over Larry
-and could tell to a nicety the workings of his mind.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-This was amusing. Both men guffawed.
-
-"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."
-
-Larry winced and felt the lash on his back. So long had that lash hung
-unused that the stroke now made him cringe.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes?" the word came softly. Was it apologetic or threatening?
-
-There was a pause. Then Maclin unbent.
-
-"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?"
-
-Larry looked back--the way was not a pleasant one.
-
-"Yes," he admitted, "yes, you have, Maclin."
-
-"I know you often get fussed, Rivers, about what you term my _using_
-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. When the public _is_ taken into our confidence,
-we'll all feel repaid. Can you--do you catch on, Larry?"
-
-"It's like catching on to something in the dark," Larry muttered.
-
-"Well, that's something," Maclin said cheerfully. "Something to hold
-to in the dark isn't to be sneered at."
-
-"Depends upon what it is!" Apparently Larry was in a difficult mood.
-Maclin tried a new course.
-
-"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?"
-
-"I just told you what I think about that." Larry misinterpreted
-Maclin's manner and took advantage.
-
-"Larry, I'm going to give you something to chew on because I _am_ your
-friend and because I want you to trust me, even in the dark. The
-fellow Northrup----"
-
-Larry started as if an electric spark had touched him. Maclin appeared
-not to notice.
-
-"--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.
-
-"What tracks?" he asked suspiciously.
-
-"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."
-
-"You know that for a fact, Maclin?"
-
-"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?"
-
-This plunge sent Larry to the wall. When a slow man does make a drive,
-he does deadly work.
-
-"Well, then"--Larry looked sullen--"I've left the house and mean to
-stay out until Mary-Clare comes to her senses!"
-
-"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."
-
-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:
-
-"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 _shown_!"
-
-By this time Larry suspected that much had gone on during his absence
-that Maclin had not confided to him. He was thoroughly aroused.
-
-"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 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."
-
-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?
-
-"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 _get_ 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."
-
-Larry drew a sigh, a heavy one, and began to understand. He saw more
-than Maclin could see.
-
-"She hasn't turned me out," he muttered. "I came out."
-
-"Let her explain that, Rivers. See? She can't do it while she's
-gallivanting with this here Northrup."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-So they turned in and it was the afternoon of the next day when Larry
-took his walk to the Point.
-
-Just as he started forth Maclin gave him two or three suggestions.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"It's a good thing you never troubled the Point, Rivers. They'll be
-more stirred by you now."
-
-"Maybe they'll kick me out."
-
-"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."
-
-So Larry, none too sure of himself, but more cheerful than he had
-been, set forth.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Among the tin cans and ash heaps the children of the 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.
-
-Larry laughed at this and muttered: "Made it in hell, eh, kid?"
-
-The child scowled at him.
-
-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.
-
-"Well, Twombley, how are you?"
-
-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.
-
-"Feeling same as I look," he said at last. He was ready to appraise
-the man before him.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Who's got his place?"
-
-"Peneluna Sniff."
-
-"Was he married?" Floating in Rivers's mind was an old story, but it
-floated too fast for him to catch it.
-
-"She went through the marriage service. That fixes it, don't it?"
-Twombley puffed loudly.
-
-"I suppose it does, but I kind of recall that there was a quarrel
-between them."
-
-"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.
-
-"Didn't Peneluna Sniff, or whatever her name is, live in a house by
-herself?" he asked. He was puzzled.
-
-"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."
-
-"Well, who's got her house?"
-
-"She's got it."
-
-"Empty?"
-
-"I guess the same truck's in it that always was. I ain't seen any
-moving out."
-
-"Is Mrs. Sniff at home?"
-
-"How do you suppose I know, young man? These ain't calling hours on
-the Point."
-
-"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."
-
-Twombley's slits came close together.
-
-"Yes?" was all he vouchsafed.
-
-"Yes. And I wish you'd pass the word along, my friend."
-
-"I don't pass nothing!" Twombley interrupted. "I take all I kin git. I
-make use of what I can. The rest, I chuck."
-
-"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."
-
-"Maclin standing back of yer, young feller?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Gosh! we ain't eager for him to speak. The stiller he is the better
-we like it."
-
-"He knows that. He's given up--he is going to see what I can make you
-feel--I'm one of you, you know that, Twombley."
-
-"Never would have guessed it, son!" Twombley leered.
-
-"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!"
-
-"Gosh! you'll be a shock to Maclin all right."
-
-"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."
-
-Larry could be a most important-appearing person when there was no one
-to prick his little bubble. Twombley eyed his visitor calmly.
-
-"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!"
-
-"What then, Twombley?"
-
-"Oh! nothing. Only as long as yer breeches hold and the nail don't
-come out, yer keep on looking!"
-
-Again Twombley spat. Then, seeing his guest rising, he asked with
-great dignity:
-
-"Going, young sir?"
-
-"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."
-
-"I'm not forgetting that, young sir."
-
-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.
-
-"Well, what in all possessed got yer down here?" asked the girl, her
-face stiffening.
-
-"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.
-
-He had once suggested that she be confined somewhere. "You never can
-tell about her kind," he had said; he had a superstitious fear of
-her.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Jan-an continued to stare at him.
-
-"There ain't no Mrs. Sniff" she said finally. "What's ailin' folks
-around here?"
-
-"Well, where's Miss Peneluna?" Larry ventured, thinking back to the
-old title of his boyhood days.
-
-"Setting!" Jan-an returned to her sweeping and Larry stepped aside.
-
-"I want to see her," he said angrily. "Get out of the way."
-
-"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.
-
-"See here"--Larry's eyes darkened--"if you don't stand aside----"
-
-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.
-
-She was still in her rusty black, the rakish bonnet set awry on her
-head.
-
-"Come in!" she said quietly. "And you, Jan-an, you trundle over to my
-old place and clean up."
-
-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.
-
-"Well?" Peneluna looked at her visitor coolly. Larry did 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.
-
-"Miss Peneluna," he began finally, but the stiff lips interrupted
-him:
-
-"_Mrs. Sniff_."
-
-"Good Lord! Mrs. Sniff, then. You see, I didn't know you were
-married."
-
-"Didn't you? You might not know everything that goes on. You don't
-trouble us much. Your goings and comings leave us strangers."
-
-Larry did not reply. He was manufacturing tears, and presently, to
-Peneluna's amazement, they glistened on his cheeks.
-
-"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."
-
-Peneluna sneezed. She had a terrible habit of sneezing at will--it was
-positively shocking.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Peneluna, Mary-Clare and I have had some words; I've left home."
-
-There was no answer to this. Larry moistened his lips and went on:
-
-"Perhaps Mary-Clare has told you?"
-
-"No, she ain't blabbed none."
-
-This was disconcerting.
-
-"She wouldn't, and I am not going to, either. It's just a
-misunderstanding, Mrs. Sniff. I could go away and let it rest there,
-but I fear I've been away too much and things have got snarled.
-Mary-Clare doesn't rightly see things."
-
-"Yes she does, Larry Rivers! She's terrible seeing." Peneluna's eyes
-flashed.
-
-"All right then, Mrs. Sniff. _I want her to see!_ 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----"
-
-Peneluna sneezed lustily; it made Larry wince.
-
-"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."
-
-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."
-
-"You're hard on me, Mrs. Sniff. You'll be sorry some day."
-
-"Then I'll be sorry!" Peneluna sneezed.
-
-Presently her mood, however, changed. She regarded Larry with new
-interest.
-
-"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.
-
-"Five dollars a month, Mrs. Sniff."
-
-"I'm wanting ten."
-
-This was a staggering demand.
-
-"How bad does he want it?" Peneluna was thinking.
-
-"How far had I best give in?" Larry estimated.
-
-"Make it seven," he ventured.
-
-"Seven and then three dollars a week more if I cook and serve for
-you."
-
-Larry had overlooked this very important item.
-
-"All right!" he agreed. "When can I come?"
-
-"Right off." Peneluna felt that she must get him under her eye as soon
-as possible. She moved to the door.
-
-"You'll make it straight with Mary-Clare?"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-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:
-
-"What's a-going on?" she asked. Peneluna turned and laid her hand on
-the girl's shoulder; her face softened--but Jan-an could not see
-that.
-
-"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!"
-
-A long crooked forefinger pointed to the shack, the windows of which
-were already darkened--for Larry had drawn the shades!
-
-"Watch early and late there! Keep your mouth shut, except to me.
-Jan-an, I can trust yer?"
-
-The girl was growing nervous.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-What had been going on in the Forest? Why was the storm breaking?
-
-But suddenly a verse more heavily marked than the others stayed her:
-
-  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.
-
-Over and over Peneluna read and pondered; more and more she puzzled.
-
-"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."
-
-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."
-
-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!
-
-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 _think back_,
-holding to some word or look that gave her courage again to fix her
-eyes ahead.
-
-"So! so!" she would nod and mutter. "So! so!" It was like meeting
-others on The Highway, greeting them, and then going on alone!
-
-That was the hurt of it all--she was alone. If only there 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"Miss Pen, it is because of such women as you and Aunt Polly that men
-_can_ keep their faith."
-
-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.
-
-Once Larry had stolen! He had gone, too, when quite a child, to the
-tavern! He had tasted the liquor, made the men laugh! The old doctor
-had been in a sad state at that time and Larry had been sent to
-school.
-
-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.
-
-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 _not_ understood anything.
-
-Peneluna had tried to interfere, but she was always fumbling; she
-could patiently wait, but action, with her, was slow.
-
-And then Maclin! Since Maclin came and bought the mines _and_
-Larry--oh! what did it all mean? Had things been slumbering, needing
-only a touch?
-
-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?
-
-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 _do_, 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.
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Time, Polly?" Peter yawned.
-
-"Going on to 'leven."
-
-"He come in?"
-
-Full well Peter knew that he had not!
-
-"No, Peter, and his evening meal is drying up in the oven--I had
-creamed oysters, too. Creamed oysters are his specials."
-
-"Scandalous, your goings on with this young man!" Peter sat up and
-stretched. Then he smiled at his sister.
-
-"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."
-
-"Tired now, Polly?"
-
-"Not exactly tired, brother, but sort of rigid. Feel as if I was
-braced for something. I've often had that feeling."
-
-"Women! women!" muttered Peter, and threw on another log.
-
-"What you suppose has happened to keep our young feller from the--the
-oysters, eh?"
-
-"I'm not accounting for folks or things these days, Peter. I'm just
-keeping my eyes and ears open. Jan-an makes me uneasy!" This came like
-a mild explosion.
-
-"What's she up to?" Peter sniffed.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-"Where is he living?" he asked. When deeply stirred, Peter went slow
-and warily.
-
-"He's hired Peneluna's old shack."
-
-Peter digested this; but found it chaff.
-
-"You got this from Jan-an?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Has, or is going to?" Peter was giving himself time to think.
-
-"Has!" Aunt Polly was pulling her cushions into the cavities of her
-tired little body.
-
-"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 "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.
-
-"I don't see as there is anything else much, brother, to wear one's
-self out for."
-
-"Why frazzle yourself for anything?"
-
-"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 _so_ far, then a stitch holds and we get our
-breath."
-
-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.
-
-"There's me!" he whispered at length like a half-ashamed but
-frightened boy.
-
-Polly drew her glasses down and gave him a long, straight look full of
-a deep and abiding love.
-
-"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."
-
-Peter came clumsily across the room and stood over the small creature
-on the sofa. He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he said gruffly:
-
-"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 _is_ comical."
-
-"I didn't say yeast, Peter Heathcote."
-
-"Well, yer meant yeast."
-
-"No, I didn't mean yeast. I just meant something like Brace was
-talking about to-day."
-
-"What was it?" Peter stood round and solid with the firelight ruddily
-upon him.
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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. 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."
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"But some things _are_, brother. We must know."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Oh! the luxury of _daring_ 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.
-
-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 in which that book was written, for
-Mary-Clare was troubling her now deeply.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-At this moment Northrup's step sounded outside. He came hastily, but
-making little noise.
-
-"What's up?" he asked, starting back at the sight of Aunt Polly.
-
-"Just me, son. Your dinner is scorched to nothing, but I wanted to
-tell you where the cookie jar is."
-
-Northrup came over to the sofa and sat down.
-
-"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."
-
-Aunt Polly laughed softly.
-
-"It's neither cookies nor switches when you come down to it," she
-chuckled. "It's just waiting and not knowing why."
-
-Northrup leaned back against the sofa and said quietly:
-
-"Guessing about me, Aunt Polly?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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
-fellow called Twombley, odd cuss. He told me he's tried to earn his
-living, but found people too particular."
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup leaned back and laughed until the quiet house re�choed with
-his mirth.
-
-"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 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."
-
-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.
-
-"It must be pleasant--being your mother," Polly whispered.
-
-"It's pleasant having you acting as substitute," Northrup replied.
-"Shall I bank the fire, Aunt Polly?"
-
-"No, son, there's something else I must see to before I turn in.
-Aren't you going for the cookies?"
-
-"Yes'm. Going to munch them in bed." And tiptoeing away in the most
-orthodox manner Northrup left Aunt Polly alone.
-
-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 _was_ so surprised when she did. She bought the
-book to her nest on the sofa and set to work.
-
-Debit and credit. Figures, figures, figures. And then, mistily, words
-took their places. Names.
-
-Mary-Clare: Larry.
-
-Larry: Northrup.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-"Oh! you dear thing," she whispered, bending to recover the book,
-"adding and subtracting when the whole world sleeps. Isn't it a
-wonderful feeling to have the night to yourself?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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!
-
-"Yes; Peneluna told us. He hasn't gone far." Aunt Polly knitted on
-while Mary-Clare gave a little laugh.
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare, her eyes fixed on the fire, was thinking aloud; her breath
-came short and quick as if she had been running.
-
-"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."
-
-"You are talking _words_, Aunt Polly, not things." Aunt Polly knew
-that she _was_ and it made her wince.
-
-"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!"
-
-There was no bitterness in the tones, but there was the weary
-impatience of a child that had been too often denied the truth.
-
-"No matter what people say and say, underneath there is _truth_, Aunt
-Polly, and it's up to us to find it."
-
-"And you think you are competent"--Aunt Polly, reflecting that she was
-using _words_, used them doubtfully--"you think you are competent to
-know what _is_ truth and to act upon it--to the extent of sending your
-husband out of his home?"
-
-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.
-
-"You dear!" she whispered and then laughed.
-
-Presently, the fire again holding her, Mary-Clare went on:
-
-"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 _his_ word when it came to anything that meant a lot to
-me."
-
-"He wanted you to marry Larry!"
-
-This was a telling stroke and a long silence followed. Then:
-
-"I wonder, Aunt Polly, I wonder."
-
-"Do you doubt, child?"
-
-"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 _his_ way and nothing else
-would do."
-
-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.
-
-"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 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."
-
-At this Aunt Polly braced against the pillows as if they were rocks.
-
-"Peneluna!" she gasped.
-
-"Let me tell you, Aunt Polly. It is such a wonderful thing."
-
-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.
-
-"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 _knew_. 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.
-
-Aunt Polly had suddenly grown tender and far-seeing. She let go the
-sounding words that Church and State had taught her.
-
-"Little girl," she said, and all her motherhood rushed 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?"
-
-Northrup seemed to loom in the room, just beyond the fire's glow. Her
-fear was taking shape.
-
-"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 _think_ 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 _think_ are theirs. We
-don't know what is ours until we try."
-
-"And fail, my child?" Aunt Polly was crying.
-
-"Yes; and fail sometimes and be hurt--but paying and going on."
-
-"And leaving your man behind you?"
-
-"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."
-
-"But the long, lonely way, child!" Polly was retracing her own denied
-womanhood.
-
-"It need not be lonely, dear, when we women find--other things. They
-will count. They must."
-
-"What other things, Mary-Clare?"
-
-"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."
-
-Like an inspired young oracle, Mary-Clare spoke and then dropped again
-by the fire.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"Maybe."
-
-A door upstairs slammed loudly and both women started nervously.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare was arranging the couch.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Poor, reaching-out child!" she whispered.
-
-"For something that is _there_, Aunt Polly."
-
-"God knows!"
-
-"Of course He does. That's why He gave us the--reach. Good-night. Oh!
-how I love you, Aunt Polly. Good-night!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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!
-
-And then Northrup _did_ hear words. A word here; a word there. He
-_knew_ things he had no right to know--he was awake at last,
-conscientiously, as well as physically. He got up and slammed the
-door!
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"The cursed brute--hasn't _got_ her, thank God. She's out of the
-trap."
-
-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!
-
-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!
-
-In all his life Northrup had never looked upon the face of 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 _in_
-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.
-
-He breathed lightly; he did not move--but he was overcome by waves of
-emotion that had never before even lapped his feet.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup rose stiffly and made his way to his room.
-
-"She was asleep!" he fiercely thought until he was safe behind his
-locked door!
-
-"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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-At this moment Kathryn placed herself beside Helen Northrup as a timid
-d�butante shrinks beside her chaperon.
-
-"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 _little_. "A fat forty! Oh,
-good Lord!"
-
-Kathryn was in bed and it was nine-thirty in the morning! She sprang
-out and looked at herself in the mirror.
-
-"Well, my body hasn't found it out yet!" she whispered, and her pretty
-white teeth showed complacently.
-
-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.
-
-Of course, for the time being, there was Sandy Arnold on the crest of
-one of his financial waves.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"But he always gets a grubby hole to work in." Kathryn fidgeted. "I
-daresay he is working now in some smudgy old place."
-
-But this thought did not last. She could insist upon the studio. A man
-owes his wife _something_ if he will have his way about his job.
-
-Just at this point a tap on the door brought a frown to Kathryn's
-smooth forehead.
-
-"Oh! come in," she called peevishly.
-
-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.
-
-For the first time in years Kathryn regarded her aunt now with
-interest.
-
-"Aunt Anna"--Kathryn never indulged in graceful tact with her
-relations--"Aunt Anna, how old _are_ you?"
-
-Anna Morris coloured, flinched, but smiled coyly.
-
-"Forty-two, dear, but it was only yesterday that my dressmaker said
-that I should not tell that. It is not necessary, you know."
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"Oh! my dear, my dear, _what_ 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 _did_ 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 _was_ comfortable; and
-duty _can_ fill in chinks. I always contend"--the dull eyes now
-confronted Kathryn--"that there _is_ a dangerous age for men and
-women. If they get through that alive and alone--well, there is a
-kind of calm that comes."
-
-"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?"
-
-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!
-
-"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 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."
-
-Kathryn was looking unusually serious. While she was in this mood she
-clutched at seeming trifles and held them curiously.
-
-"What was Brace's father like?" she suddenly asked.
-
-Anna Morris started.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Tell me, Aunt Anna. I've often wondered."
-
-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.
-
-"Well," she began slowly, tremblingly, "he wasn't companionable at
-the last, but I shall always see _his_ 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. _She_ 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!"
-
-"I don't know what you mean, Aunt Anna. Do talk sense."
-
-Kathryn was almost excited. It was like reading what wasn't intended
-for innocent young girls to know.
-
-"Well, first, Helen Northrup was just like all loving young girls, I
-guess--but when she didn't find _all_ she wanted, she took to
-developing, as she called it. For _my_ part I believe when a woman
-finds her husband isn't _all_ she expected, she ought to accept her
-lot and make the best of it."
-
-"And Brace's mother started out to make her own lot? I see."
-
-Kathryn nodded her head.
-
-"Well, something like that. She took to writing. Thomas Northrup
-didn't know what ailed her and I don't wonder. She should have spent
-herself on _his_ 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!"
-
-"What did he do, Aunt Anna?"
-
-"He went away."
-
-"With a woman?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"One he just met when Mrs. Northrup became a mother?"
-
-"He knew her before, but if Helen Northrup had been all she should
-have been to him----"
-
-"I begin to see. And then?"
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"What luncheon?"
-
-"Why, with Mr. Arnold, my dear, and he included me, too! Such a sweet
-fellow he is, and so wise and thoughtful."
-
-"Oh!"
-
-There had been a time when she and Sandy Arnold met clandestinely--it
-was such fun! He included Aunt Anna now. Why?
-
-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 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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 _is_ Brace, Kathryn?"
-
-This was unfortunate.
-
-"That is my business and his!" Kathryn spoke slowly. Her eyes slanted
-and her lips hardened.
-
-"My darling, I beg your pardon!" And once more Anna Morris was shoved
-into the groove where she belonged.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-When he was fourteen he remarked, in that strained voice that he
-believed hid any emotion:
-
-"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!"
-
-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 _know_, wanted to comfort her; and
-she knew, with terrifying certainty, that she could not deceive
-him--she was at his mercy!
-
-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.
-
-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 _unreality_. It answered
-the purpose for which it was designed; 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.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Well, rest and care helped and the attacks were less frequent. That
-gave a certain amount of hope.
-
-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. 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.
-_Time_ is such a splendid heritage of youth and such a rare relic of
-age.
-
-"Why, my dearie-dear!" exclaimed Kathryn, kneeling beside the couch.
-"What _is_ it?"
-
-"Nothing, dear child; nothing more than a vicious touch of neuralgia."
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"Now, dearie-dear, we _must_ 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.
-
-Helen smiled. Then spoke slowly:
-
-"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."
-
-"You mean, you have attacks?" Kathryn looked appalled.
-
-"Oh, yes; off and on. That fact proves how unimportant they are."
-
-Kathryn was again taking stock.
-
-She believed that Brace was still at that place from which the letter
-came! She was fiendishly subject to impressions and suspicions.
-
-"Now if he is still there"--thoughts ran like liquid fire in Kathryn's
-brain--"_why_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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 _might_ have
-happened--she, a woman of the world, understood.
-
-And--Kathryn was brought to a sudden halt--the reel spun on but there
-was no picture!
-
-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.
-
-Presently Kathryn became aware of the fact that Helen Northrup had
-been speaking while the reel reeled!
-
-"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! 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!"
-
-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?
-
-Well, how perfectly thrilling to save him!
-
-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.
-
-"Kathryn, have you heard from Brace?"
-
-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.
-
-"No, dearie-dear," she said sweetly.
-
-"So you don't know just where he is?"
-
-"How could I know, dearie thing?"
-
-So they were not keeping things from her; shutting her out! Helen
-Northrup raised her head from the pillow.
-
-"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, 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!"
-
-Kathryn was shedding tears--tears of gratitude for the material Helen
-was putting at her disposal.
-
-"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!"
-
-Kathryn looked up. The tears hung to her long lashes.
-
-"You want this?" she faltered with quivering lips.
-
-Helen believed she understood at last.
-
-"My darling!" she said tenderly, "it is the one great longing of my
-heart."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Such an effort as she had just made caused angels to weep over her.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-This was said to Peneluna who was aging under the strain of
-unaccustomed excitement.
-
-"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! I wish we had something to grip hold of.
-Suspicioning your neighbours ain't healthy."
-
-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:
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"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!"
-
-She shamelessly ransacked Larry's possessions while she cleaned his
-disorderly shack, but no letters did she find. She became irritable
-and unmoral.
-
-"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?"
-
-Peneluna paused and looked at the girl with startled eyes.
-
-"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.
-
-"Oh! folks as just clutter up life for decent folks. Maclin and
-Larry."
-
-"Now, see here, Jan-an, that kind of talk is downright creepy and
-terrible wicked. Listen to me. Are you listening?"
-
-Jan-an nodded sullenly.
-
-"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 much as yer can. If you attract
-attention--the Lord above knows what will happen; I don't."
-
-Jan-an was impressed.
-
-"I ain't making them notice me," she mumbled, "but yer just can't take
-a joke."
-
-Noreen and Jan-an, in those warm autumn days--and what an autumn it
-was!--often came to the little chapel where Northrup wrote.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-"We're here," the strangely scrawled words informed him; "me and
-Jan-an. We've got something for you."
-
-But Northrup held rigidly to his working hours and finally made an
-offer to his most persistent foes.
-
-"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."
-
-This had been the beginning of romance to Jan-an.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-And, as was often the case, Manly's words came out like 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.
-
-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.
-
-"She was not awake!" he concluded. The belief made it possible for him
-to act with assurance.
-
-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.
-
-"Or upset 'em," Peter added. He had his mind fixed upon Maclin.
-
-"Well, brother, sailing safe, or struggling in the water, it won't
-help matters to stir up the mud."
-
-"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 _him_ make the folks on the
-Point get on to the fact that he's their friend. Gosh! Maclin their
-friend."
-
-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 virtue around their
-barren lives, by attacking the woman who refused to be a martyr.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin had delicately and indirectly set forth Mary-Clare's "terms"
-and the Forest was staggered.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup often had a hearty laugh after attending one of the "school"
-sessions.
-
-"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."
-
-"I reckon they pick only as much as their little stomachs can hold,"
-Aunt Polly replied, "and it makes _me_ smile to notice how folks as
-ain't above saying lies about Mary-Clare can trust their children to
-her teaching."
-
-"Oh! well, lies are soon killed," Northrup returned, but his smile
-vanished.
-
-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.
-
-"I do say," Twombley confided to Peneluna, "it don't seem nater for a
-woman not to grieve and fuss at such goings on."
-
-Peneluna tossed her head and sneezed.
-
-"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
-_him_ do the fussing and breaking."
-
-"She might try and save him." Twombley, like all the male Forest, was
-stirred at what he could not understand.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Surely the Forest had much to cogitate upon.
-
-"There is just one ledge of rocks for her kind," said Maclin. "You
-keep yourself clear and safe, Rivers, and watch the wreck."
-
-Maclin could be most impressive at times and his conversation had a
-nautical twist that was quite effective.
-
-Northrup at this time would have been shocked beyond measure had any
-one suggested that his own attitude of mind 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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?
-
-"But she ought not to be permitted to think all men are like Rivers!"
-
-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.
-
-There were nutting parties for the children--innocent enough, heaven
-knew! There were thrilling camping suppers on the flat ridge of the
-hills in order to watch the miracle of sunset and moonrise.
-
-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.
-
-No wonder Maclin, and the outraged Larry, saw distinctly the ridge on
-which the wreck was to occur.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"I do, a little. I'm taking it up again for Noreen."
-
-Noreen's name was continually being brought into focus. It had the
-effect of pushing Northrup, metaphorically, into a safe zone. He
-resented this.
-
-"She is afraid!" he thought. "Rivers has left his mark upon her mind,
-damn him!"
-
-This sentiment should have given warning, but it did not.
-
-"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."
-
-"Hard things do stick, don't they?" Northrup hated the pushed-aside
-feeling.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup laughed aloud. He edged away from his isolation and said:
-
-"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.
-
-"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?
-
-"And you're doing it?"
-
-An understanding look passed between them.
-
-"Yes, Mr. Northrup, for Noreen."
-
-Back went Northrup to his place with a dull thud! Then Mary-Clare
-hurried to a safer subject.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup looked down at his companion. Her bared head, her musing,
-radiant face excited and moved him. He had forgotten his book.
-
-"You're rather like a strange growth yourself," he said daringly.
-
-Mary-Clare smiled gaily.
-
-"You'll have to blame my old doctor for that," she said.
-
-"Or bless him," Northrup broke in.
-
-"Yes, that's better, if it is true."
-
-"It's tremendously true."
-
-"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!"
-
-"Yes. Good Lord! There you are."
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes, a story."
-
-"You can reach further with a story."
-
-"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.
-
-"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
-_feel_ truth in a book--or the lack of it."
-
-In the near distance Noreen and Jan-an were gathering wood. They were
-singing and shouting lustily.
-
-"May I sit on your log?" Northrup spoke hurriedly.
-
-"Of course," and Mary-Clare moved a little. "The sun's gone," she went
-on. "It's quite dark in the valley."
-
-"It's still light here--and there's the fire." Northrup was watching
-the face beside him.
-
-"Yes, the fire, and presently the moon rising, just over there."
-
-Restraint lay between the two on the mossy log. They both resented
-it.
-
-"You know, you must know, that I'd rather have you share my book than
-any one else." Northrup spoke almost roughly.
-
-He had meant to say something quite different, but anything would do
-so long as he controlled the situation.
-
-"I wonder why?" Mary-Clare kept her face turned away.
-
-"Well, you are so phenomenally keen. You know such a lot."
-
-"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."
-
-"That's just it. You _feel_ 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?"
-
-"Oh! of course. I'd be so glad and proud."
-
-"Come, now, you're not joking?"
-
-The large golden eyes turned slowly and rested upon Northrup.
-
-"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."
-
-"You make me horribly afraid about my book. People do not usually take
-the writing of a book in just that way."
-
-"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."
-
-"But who knows Truth?"
-
-"There is something in us that knows it. Don't you think so?"
-
-"But we see it so differently."
-
-"That does not matter, if we know it! Truth is fixed and sure. Isn't
-that so?"
-
-"I do not know. Sometimes I think so: then--good Lord! that is what
-I'm trying to find out."
-
-Northrup's face grew tense.
-
-"And so am I."
-
-"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?"
-
-The children were coming nearer.
-
-"While this weather lasts, I'd love the open. Wouldn't you? Logs, like
-this, are such perfect places."
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare smiled and shook her head.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-But the book! That was another matter. In that she felt 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Why are you stopping?" Mary-Clare would ask at such lapses.
-
-"My writing is diabolical!" Northrup lied.
-
-"Oh! I'm sorry. The stops give me a jog. Go on."
-
-And Northrup would go on!
-
-Without fully being aware of it, until the thing was done, Mary-Clare
-got vividly into the story.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-And Northrup had complied.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Well, Fate had merely bided its time.
-
-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.
-
-Viewed from this position, Larry was not as contemptible as he had
-once appeared.
-
-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.
-
-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 his back upon the golden selah
-in his life and return to his niche in the wall.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-And Jan-an. Poor groping creature! To have gained her affection and
-trust meant a great deal.
-
-Then the Heathcotes! Polly and Peter! During those five distraught
-days they developed halos in Northrup's imagination.
-
-They had taken him in, a stranger. They had fathered and mothered him;
-staunchly and silently stood by him. What if they knew?
-
-They must never know! He would make sure of that.
-
-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.
-
-After a decent length of time, Northrup, whistling carelessly,
-scruffing the dead leaves noiselessly, followed on and overtook
-Mary-Clare near the log upon which they had sat at their last
-meeting.
-
-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.
-
-"It's quite mysterious, isn't it?"
-
-Mary-Clare sat down on her end of the log and looked up, her eyes
-twinkling.
-
-"What is mysterious?" Northrup took his place. The log was not a long
-one.
-
-"The way we manage to meet."
-
-She was setting him at a safe distance in that old way of hers that
-somehow made her seem so young.
-
-It irritated Northrup now as it never had before.
-
-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.
-
-This was dangerous. Northrup relaxed.
-
-"It's been nearly a week since I saw you," he said, and let his eyes
-rest upon Mary-Clare's face.
-
-"Yes, nearly a week," she said softly, "but it took me all that time
-to make up my mind."
-
-"About what?"
-
-"Your book."
-
-Northrup had forgotten, for the moment, his book, and he resented its
-introduction.
-
-"Damn the book!" he thought. Aloud he said: "Of course! You were going
-to tell me where I have fallen down."
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Then, there is all the more reason why I must tell you what I think,"
-she said at last.
-
-The words came like sharp detached particles; they hurt.
-
-"We must talk about the book!"
-
-And Northrup suddenly caught the truth. The book was their common
-language. Only through that could they reach each other, understandingly.
-
-"All right!" he murmured, and turned his face away.
-
-"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."
-
-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, _as_ a book, assailed. As to books, he knew his
-business!
-
-"You put _your_ words in your woman's mouth," Mary-Clare was saying.
-
-"And whose words, pray, should I put there?" Northrup asked huskily.
-
-"You must let her speak for herself."
-
-"Good Lord!"
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-The question came falteringly and Northrup almost laughed.
-
-"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?"
-
-"All women would not do what your woman does. Such women end men!"
-
-This was audacious, but it caught Northrup's imagination.
-
-"Go on," he muttered lamely.
-
-"Do you think love is everything to a woman?" Mary-Clare demanded
-ferociously.
-
-"It is the biggest thing!" Northrup was up in arms to defend his code
-and his work.
-
-"You think it could wipe out honour, all the things that meant honour
-to her?"
-
-"Love conquers everything for a woman."
-
-"Does it for a man?"
-
-Northrup tried to fling out the affirmative, but he hedged.
-
-"Largely, yes."
-
-"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 _do_ 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----"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup drew Mary-Clare to her feet and held her little work-worn
-hands close.
-
-"You are crying--suffering," he whispered.
-
-"Yes."
-
-"And----"
-
-"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."
-
-She seemed pleading with him--it made him wince; she was calling forth
-his best to help her weakest.
-
-"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 _act_ for herself! She, too, must
-learn and know. She made a horrible mistake from _not_ 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----"
-
-"Yes, Mary-Clare. If it is right, what then?"
-
-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!
-
-"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, _parts_--we cannot act as if--oh! you do understand, I know you
-do, and some day you will go on with your beautiful book."
-
-"And the end of my book, Mary-Clare? There must be an end."
-
-"I do not know. I do not think a great big book ever ends any more
-than life ends."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"Dishonour! What _is_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"That's what I mean by honour," Mary-Clare whispered. "Noreen and all
-that she is! You, you _do_ understand about some women, don't you? You
-will help, not hurt, such women, won't you?"
-
-"For God's sake, Mary-Clare, don't!"
-
-Northrup bent and touched his lips to the small work-stained hands.
-The song down the trail rose joyously.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes!" Northrup shivered and flinched as a cold, wet leaf fell upon
-his hands and Mary-Clare's.
-
-"The wind is changing," said the woman. "The lovely autumn has been
-kind and has stayed long."
-
-"My dear, my dear--don't!" Northrup pleaded.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"You have never been to the city?"
-
-There was nothing to do but resort to words. Superficial, foolish
-words.
-
-"Yes, once. On my wedding trip."
-
-This was unfortunate, but words without thought are wild things.
-
-Mary-Clare hurried along while visions of Larry's city rose like smiting
-rebukes to her heedlessness. Cheap theatres, noisy restaurants, gaudy
-lights.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, that's exactly what one does." Northrup closed his hand closer
-over the dead-cold one in his grasp.
-
-"Your city, it must be wonderful."
-
-"It will be a haunted city, Mary-Clare."
-
-"Tell me about it. And tell me a little, if you don't mind, about your
-people."
-
-The bravery was almost heart-breaking, it caused Northrup's lips to
-set grimly.
-
-"There is my mother," he replied.
-
-"I'm glad. You love her very much?"
-
-"Very much. She's wonderful. My father died long ago."
-
-Mary-Clare did not ask whether he loved his father or not, and she
-hurried on:
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup struggled with himself. The girl beside him, in pushing him
-from her life, was so unutterably sweet and brave.
-
-"My dear, my dear!" he whispered, and remorse, pity, yearning rang in
-the words.
-
-"Make it like a picture!" Relentlessly the words were repeated. They
-demanded that he give his best.
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare's eyes were wide and vision-filled.
-
-"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!"
-
-"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."
-
-The weak efforts to ignore everything failed pitifully.
-
-"No, it is life." Mary-Clare grew grim as Northrup relaxed. "But I
-want you always to remember my old 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."
-
-"God bless and keep you, Mary-Clare." Absolute surrender marked the
-tone.
-
-"He will!"
-
-"But this is not good-bye!"
-
-"No, it is not good-bye."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-The real, sordid tragedy element played small part in the autumn idyl,
-but it was developing none the less.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"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?"
-
-Peneluna softened.
-
-"Yes, you are!" she admitted. "But I declare, after finding nothing
-agin him, one gets to wondering if there _is_ anything agin him. I
-don't like suspecting my feller creatures."
-
-"Suspectin' ain't like murdering!" Jan-an blurted out.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"What yer going to shoot?" she asked.
-
-"Ducks, maybe." Twombley leered pleasantly.
-
-"I wish yer wouldn't."
-
-"Why, Jan-an?"
-
-"Ducks ain't so used to it as chickens. I hate to see flying things as
-_can_ fly popped over."
-
-At this Twombley laughed aloud.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"What in thunder are you up to?" he asked.
-
-"Not much--yet!" Twombley admitted. "Don't hit the hole more than once
-out of four."
-
-"But the noise is bad for folks, Twombley."
-
-"They like it," Twombley broke in. "Makes 'em jump and know they're
-alive. It's like fleas on dogs."
-
-"When I'm talking business with Rivers," Twombley insisted, "I hate
-the racket."
-
-"All right, when I see you there, I'll hold off."
-
-But Maclin did not want always to be seen at the shack. 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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin's eyes contracted, but it was too dark for Rivers to notice.
-
-"Too late, just now, Rivers. That hell of a time they're having over
-there keeps peaceful folks to their own waters."
-
-"Sometimes"--Larry grew moody--"I've thought I'd like to tumble into
-that mess and either----"
-
-"What?" Abruptly Maclin caught Rivers up.
-
-"Oh! go under or--come to the top." This was to laugh--so both men
-laughed.
-
-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.
-
-"What in thunder do you lock this old rookery up for?" Maclin asked,
-stumbling over a chair.
-
-"I've got a notion lately that folks peep and pry. I've seen
-footprints around the house."
-
-"Well, why shouldn't they pry and tramp about? The Point's getting
-dippy. And that blasted gun of Twombley's! See here, Rivers!"
-
-By this time Larry had lighted the smelly lamp and closed the door and
-locked it.
-
-"You're getting nervous and twisted, Rivers."
-
-The two sat down by the paper-strewn table.
-
-"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."
-
-"Sure! Got anything to drink?"
-
-Larry went to the closet and brought out a bottle and glasses.
-
-"This helps!" Maclin said, pouring out the best brand from the Cosey.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"The devil you do!" Rivers's eyes brightened.
-
-"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."
-
-Larry's face flushed a purple-red.
-
-"What do you mean, Maclin? Talk out straight and clear."
-
-"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 _always_, Larry. They just naturally _make_ for
-rocks."
-
-Larry had a sensation of choking and loosened his collar, then he
-surprised Maclin by turning and lighting a fire in the stove before he
-further surprised him by asking, with dangerous calmness:
-
-"What in all that's holy do you--this Northrup--any one, want this
-damned Point for?"
-
-Maclin was rarely in a position to fence with Rivers, but he was now.
-
-"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?"
-
-"No!" Rivers could not stand delay.
-
-"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 _keep_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-"What are these?" he asked.
-
-Larry started guiltily.
-
-"Old letters," he said.
-
-"What you doing with them?" As he spoke Maclin was 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!
-
-"Playing the old game, eh?" Maclin scowled. "I thought you'd had
-enough of that, after----"
-
-"For God's sake, Maclin, shut up."
-
-"Been carrying these mementos around with you all these years?"
-
-Maclin was reading a letter of Larry's father--an old one.
-
-"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.
-
-"Sure, so I see." And Maclin was seeing a great deal.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin puffed out his cheeks. They looked like a child's red balloon.
-"What in hell!" he ejaculated.
-
-Larry's face was gray. Guilt is always quick to hold up its hands when
-it thinks the enemy has the drop on it.
-
-"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."
-
-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 he felt positively
-virtuous; perhaps the sensation proved the embryo virtue in all.
-
-"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."
-
-"No."
-
-"You got your wife by letting her think your old father wanted it,
-wrote about it?"
-
-"Yes. I had to outwit them some way. I was just free and couldn't
-choose. They had no right to cut me out."
-
-"Well, by God, you _are_ a rotter, Rivers." The lines at which
-criminals balk are confusing. "And she never guessed?"
-
-"No, she'd never seen Father's writing in letters."
-
-Then Maclin's outraged virtue took a curious turn.
-
-"And you never cared for her after you got her?"
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin indulged in a weak laugh at this and Larry's face burned.
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin was gripping the loose sheets in his fat, greasy hands.
-
-"Hold on there." Larry pointed. "You're getting them creased and
-dirty!"
-
-Again Maclin laughed.
-
-"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 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."
-
-Larry wiped his lips with his hot hand.
-
-"I haven't quite finished this," he muttered; "it will take a day or
-two."
-
-"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.
-
-"I'm not going to double-cross you, Maclin."
-
-"Here, take a nifter." Maclin pushed the bottle toward Rivers. "You
-look all in," he ventured.
-
-"I am, just about."
-
-"Well, after this piece of business, I'll send you off for as long as
-you want to stay. You need a change."
-
-Larry revived after a moment or two and some colour crept into his
-cheeks.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-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 _must_ succeed. Right was back of him; with him. Unyielding
-Right. It must succeed.
-
-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. 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Dominated by a man and an emotion they were, not the drudging machines
-of the mines, but a vital force ready for action.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-The weather jeered at him by its glorious warmth and colour. It _held_
-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 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.
-
-"I'll wait until this marvellous spell of weather breaks," he
-compromised with his lesser--or better--self. "Then I'll beat it!"
-
-Looking to this he asked Uncle Peter what the chances were of a cold
-spell.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"All right, son," he muttered, and ran his hand through his bristling
-hair.
-
-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?
-
-"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.
-
-"What for?"
-
-This brought a hurtling mass of conclusions.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 _are_ 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!"
-
-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.
-
-Just then he heard quick, light footsteps coming toward him. He hid
-behind some bushes by the path and waited.
-
-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.
-
-Larry walked on, and when he was beyond sound Northrup proceeded on
-his way.
-
-The Point seemed wrapped in decent slumber. A light frankly burned in
-Twombley's hovel, but for the rest, darkness!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"Well, what in thunder!" Northrup decided to investigate but keep
-silent as long as he could.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup took a big chance. He went to the door and tapped.
-
-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.
-
-"Jan-an," he said quietly, controllingly, "let me in. You can trust
-me. Let me in."
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-To his surprise, the girl burst into tears.
-
-"My God," she moaned, "what did I have feelin's for--and no sense? I
-can't read!" she blurted. "I can't read."
-
-This was puzzling, but Northrup saw that the girl had confidence in
-him--a desperate, unknowing confidence that had grown slowly.
-
-"Why do you want to read, Jan-an?" he asked in a low, kindly tone.
-
-"I know you ain't his friend, are you?" The wet, pitiful face was
-lifted. Old fears and distrust rose grimly.
-
-"Whose?"
-
-"Maclin's, ole divil-man Maclin?"
-
-"Certainly not! You know better than to ask that, Jan-an."
-
-"Nor his--Larry Rivers?"
-
-"No, I am not his friend."
-
-Thus reassured once more, Jan-an ventured nearer:
-
-"You don't aim to hurt--her?"
-
-"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.
-
-"I mean them--Mary-Clare and Noreen."
-
-"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?"
-
-"As God seeing yer, yer mean that?" Jan-an leaned forward.
-
-"God seeing me! Yes, Jan-an."
-
-"Yer ain't hanging around her to do her--dirt?"
-
-"Good Lord, no!" Northrup recoiled. Apparently new anxiety was
-overcoming the girl.
-
-Then, by a sudden dash, Jan-an swept the untidy mass of papers over to
-him; she abdicated her last stronghold.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-For a few moments Northrup lost the sound of Jan-an's guttural
-whimpers, then he caught the words:
-
-"And her crying and wanting the letters. Just letters!" Northrup again
-became absorbed.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Some day I will read my old doctor's letters to you--I have kept them
-all!"
-
-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 _were_ some old letters of the
-doctor's. Were these Mary-Clare's letters? Why were they here and in
-this state?
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"I'm trying to find out." Northrup spoke almost harshly. He wanted to
-quiet the girl.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-So, now, disregarding poor Jan-an, who rambled on, Northrup gazed at
-the letters near him, and held close the brown-paper 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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-"It's all right, Jan-an," he comforted, patting the unkempt head.
-
-"Are them the letters he stole?"
-
-"Some of them, yes, Jan-an."
-
-"Kin I take 'em back to her?"
-
-"Not to-night. I think Rivers will take them back."
-
-"S'pose he won't."
-
-"He will."
-
-"You, you're going to fetch him one?" The instinct of the savage rose
-in the girl.
-
-"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."
-
-"And you?"
-
-"I'll wait for Mr. Larry Rivers here!"
-
-"My God!" Jan-an burst forth. Then: "There's a sizable log back of
-the stove. Yer can fetch a good one with that."
-
-"Thanks, Jan-an. Go now."
-
-Jan-an rose stiffly and shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and went
-into the blackness outside.
-
-Then Northrup sat down and prepared to wait.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Rivers might return with Maclin. This was a new possibility and
-disconcerting; still it must be met.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-For some moments--or was it hours?--Northrup was not conscious of time
-or place; not even conscious of himself as 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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-There were primitive forces battling for expression in his lax hour.
-Setting the woman free from bondage--what for?
-
-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?
-
-Northrup set his teeth hard together. In the stillness he had his
-fight! And just then a shuffling outside brought him back to reality.
-
-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!
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-
-"Hello, Rivers! I'm something of a surprise, eh?"
-
-"Hell!" The word escaped Rivers as might a cry that followed a
-stunning blow.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-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!
-
-"In God's name," he whispered, "who are you, anyway? What are you
-after?"
-
-"That's what I'm here to tell you, Rivers."
-
-"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!
-
-Maclin--Maclin's secret business, loomed high, but at that moment
-Mary-Clare held no part in his desperate fear.
-
-"What do you want?"
-
-Then, as if falling into his mood, Northrup said calmly:
-
-"First, I want the Point."
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Rivers clutched the edge of the table. To his inflamed brain Northrup
-seemed to know all and everything--he dared not haggle.
-
-"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.
-
-"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 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_ 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!"
-
-Larry's face was livid. He was prepared to betray Maclin, but the old
-power held him captive.
-
-"I dare not!" he groaned.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"I took it to her," he gasped.
-
-"Your wife?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"She does not suspect?"
-
-"No."
-
-"What did your wife say when she read the letter?"
-
-"She's going to help me out."
-
-"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."
-
-"My God! I want a drink." Larry looked as if he did; he rose and
-reeled over to the closet.
-
-Northrup regarded his man closely and his fingers reached out and drew
-the scattered papers nearer.
-
-"Take only enough to stiffen you up, a swallow or two, Rivers."
-
-Larry obeyed mechanically and when he returned to his chair he was
-firmer.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Go on!" he growled.
-
-"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!"
-
-Both men looked at the mass of papers.
-
-"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!"
-
-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 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.
-
-"You damned scoundrel!" he gasped. "And if I do what you suggest, what
-then?" He meant to force Northrup as far as he dared.
-
-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:
-
-"Nothing!"
-
-"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----"
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 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.
-
-"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!"
-
-And now Northrup's face twitched. He waited a moment and then went
-hopelessly on:
-
-"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.
-
-"Believe you?" he said. "Hell, no!"
-
-"I thought you couldn't." Northrup got up.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Larry felt the cold perspiration start on his forehead; his stomach
-grew sick.
-
-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.
-
-"I'll go to her; I'll do your hell-work, but give me another day." He
-gritted his teeth.
-
-"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.
-
-"What----" Larry put out a trembling hand.
-
-"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."
-
-"Curse you!"
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Five o'clock," counted Northrup, and plunging his hands in his
-pockets he made his way to Twombley's shack.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-But, for some uncanny cause, Kathryn was confident that Northrup _was_
-at his first address. It was so like him to creep into a hole and be
-very dramatic and secretive. It was his temperament, Kathryn felt,
-and she steeled herself against him.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"I beg your pardon. Really, I did knock--the door just opened."
-Kathryn was confused and stepped back.
-
-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!
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"I want to find out the way to the inn, Heathcote Inn." Kathryn smiled
-alluringly.
-
-"Why don't you look at the sign?" There was witchery about that sign,
-certainly.
-
-"I did not see the sign. Please excuse me." Then, "Do you happen to
-know if there is a Mr. Northrup at the inn?"
-
-"He sleeps there!" Jan-an looked stupid but honest. "Days, he takes to
-the woods."
-
-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!
-
-"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."
-
-The quiet man at the door of the car touched his cap and took his
-place at the wheel.
-
-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 _could_ be so excited.
-
-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?
-
-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. 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.
-
-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 _for_
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"I see your side, child," he comforted. "What the old doc said _goes_
-with you."
-
-"But it was Larry, not the doctor, as specified the Point," Polly
-insisted.
-
-"All right, all right," Peter patted Polly's shoulder. "Have it your
-own way, but I see it at _this_ 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."
-
-"Well, I hold"--Aunt Polly was curiously stubborn--"that Larry Rivers
-don't want that Point any more than a toad wants a pocket."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Motherly, let me go, too," she pleaded.
-
-"Childie, Mother wants to be alone."
-
-"Why for?"
-
-"Because, well, I must think."
-
-"Then let me stay home with Jan-an."
-
-"Dearie, I'm going to send Jan-an back here."
-
-"Why for?"
-
-"Mary-Clare," Peter broke in, "that child is perishing for a
-paddling."
-
-Noreen ran to Peter and hugged him.
-
-"You old grifferty-giff!" she whispered, falling into her absurd
-jargon, "just gifferting."
-
-Then she went back to her mother and said impishly:
-
-"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?"
-
-The irrelevancy of the question only added to its staggering effect.
-Mary-Clare looked hopelessly at her child.
-
-"I didn't have any choice, Noreen," she said.
-
-"You mean God gave him to you?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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 last she came in sight of the vine-covered shack and stood
-still to consider.
-
-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.
-
-"Ho! ho!" she murmured. "So _this_ is where he burrows? Another
-edition of the East Side tenement room where he hid while writing his
-abominable book!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-That, and the Bible, made the girl smile. Temperament was insanity,
-nothing less!
-
-Kathryn looked about for evidences of Northrup's craft.
-
-"I suppose he takes his precious stuff away with him. Afraid of fires
-or wild beasts."
-
-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.
-
-"Ho! ho!" Kathryn spread them before her and read greedily--not
-sympathetically--but amusedly.
-
-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 _her_ plot with Northrup's
-words, but half understood, lying under her gaze.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"I was surprised. I am still."
-
-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.
-
-"You expected, I suppose, to find Mr. Northrup?"
-
-When Kathryn was deeply moved she spoke out of the corner of her
-mouth. It was an unpleasant trick--her lips became hard and twisted.
-
-"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!
-
-"I am Miss Morris. I am engaged to be married to Mr. Northrup."
-
-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:
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Mr. Northrup's mother is ill. She needs him. The way I have known all
-this right along is simply a miracle."
-
-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.
-
-"What can you possibly mean," she asked, and her eyes darkened, "by
-knowing _this_ all along? I do not understand--what have you known?"
-
-Then Kathryn sank in a morass.
-
-"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?"
-
-Mary-Clare was spared much of what Kathryn was creating because she
-was so far away--so far, far away from the 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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Mr. Northrup is writing a beautiful book. The book is himself. He
-does not realize how much it is----"
-
-"Indeed!" Kathryn did utter the one word, then added: "I suppose he's
-read it to you?"
-
-"Yes, he has."
-
-"Here, I suppose? By the fire, alone with you?"
-
-"No, under the trees, out there."
-
-Mary-Clare turned and glanced at the pure, open woods. "It is a
-beautiful book," she repeated.
-
-"Oh! go on, do! Really this is too utterly ridiculous." Kathryn
-laughed impatiently. "We'll take for granted the beauty of the book."
-
-"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 _believe_ in
-women. 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!"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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 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.
-
-"How dare you!" Kathryn's face flamed and then turned pale as death.
-
-Mary-Clare was moving toward the door. When she reached it she stood
-as a hostess might while a guest departed.
-
-"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.
-
-"I want you to understand," she said, "that you are dealing with a
-woman of the world, not a sentimental fool."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-The bared Truth stood revealed; before it Mary-Clare did not flinch.
-
-"This is what it has all meant. The happiness, the joy, the strange
-intensity of common things."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Somewhere, on beyond----
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-
-Northrup had cast himself upon Twombley's hospitality with the plea of
-business. He outlined a programme and demanded silence.
-
-"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."
-
-Twombley blinked.
-
-"Snatching hot cakes?" he asked. "Spoiling Maclin's meal?"
-
-"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."
-
-Twombley nodded.
-
-About noon Northrup departed, but he did not reach the inn until
-nearly dark.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Nonsense, brother! But do you suppose the young woman what's on her
-way here is a female Chinese?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-"I'm Mr. Northrup's fianc�e," she explained, and sank into a chair by
-the hearth.
-
-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!
-
-Peter fixed his little, sparkling eyes on his guest and his hair rose
-an inch while his face reddened.
-
-"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.
-
-"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!"
-
-This was a wild guess but it served its purpose. Peter felt like a
-brute and Aunt Polly was all a-tremble.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"She says she's going to marry Brace," she confided.
-
-"Well, I reckon if she says she is, she is!" Peter grunted. "She looks
-capable of doing it."
-
-"Peter, you mustn't be hard."
-
-"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?"
-
-"Peter, you give me the creeps."
-
-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.
-
-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----
-
-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.
-
-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 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 _real_ was reflected. They had breathed
-upon them, watched them, but had not touched them frankly. And
-now----
-
-How ugly and ordinary it would all seem if he left without one last
-word!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-And just then a rustling in the bushes by the road brought him to a
-standstill.
-
-"Who's that?" he asked roughly.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-Jan-an came close.
-
-"Say, there's a queer lot to the inn. They're after you!"
-
-Northrup started.
-
-"What do you mean?" he asked.
-
-"A toot cart with an image setting up the front--and a dressy piece in
-the glass cage behind."
-
-So vivid was the picture that Jan-an portrayed that Northrup did not
-need to question.
-
-"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----"
-
-Northrup laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yer--yer going away?" Jan-an writhed under the flashlight.
-
-"Yes, Jan-an."
-
-"Why----" The girl burst into tears. Northrup tried to comfort her.
-"I've been so stirred," the girl sobbed. "I had feelin's----"
-
-"So have I, Jan-an. So have I."
-
-They stood in the dark for a moment and then, because there was
-nothing more to say--Northrup went to meet Kathryn Morris.
-
-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.
-
-"Well, little girl," he said--people always lowered their voices when
-speaking to Kathryn--"what is it?"
-
-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.
-
-"Is it Mother?" he whispered.
-
-Kathryn nodded and her easy tears fell.
-
-"Dead?" The word cut like a knife and Kathryn shivered. For the first
-she doubted herself; felt like a bungler.
-
-"Oh! no, Brace; Brace, do not look like that--really--really--listen
-to me."
-
-Northrup breathed heavily.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"Brace dear, I--you know I have been bearing it all alone and I dared
-_not_ take any further responsibility even to--to shield you, dearest,
-and your work."
-
-By some dark magic Northrup felt himself a selfish brute; a deserter
-of duty.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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!
-
-While he had been following his selfish ends, Kathryn had 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.
-
-"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?"
-
-Northrup nodded. He recalled those headaches.
-
-"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----"
-
-"Nonsense!" Northrup got up and paced the floor. "Manly has told me
-that was sheer nonsense. Go on, Kathryn."
-
-"Well, dear, she was weak and _so_ pitiful and she--she confided
-things to me that I am sure she would not have, had she been her
-brave, dear self."
-
-"What kind of things?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 you and I--have been putting off our
-marriage because of her!"
-
-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.
-
-"Go on!" he said quietly, and resumed his seat by the fire.
-
-"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."
-
-"An obstacle? Good Lord!" Northrup jammed a log to its place and so
-relieved his feelings.
-
-"Well, my dearest, you must see the position I was placed in?"
-
-"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?"
-
-Kathryn looked up, and all the childlike confidence and sweetness she
-could summon lay in her lovely eyes.
-
-"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 _had_ to have you. Oh! Brace."
-
-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.
-
-"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!"
-
-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!
-
-"Kathryn, you mean you will marry me; you will--do this for me and
-her?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-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.
-
-An early start for the morrow was planned, and by nine o'clock Kathryn
-went to her room.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Now, son, must you go out?" she pleaded, her spectacles awry on the
-top of her head, her eyes unnaturally bright.
-
-"Yes, Aunt Polly." Northrup paused, the knob of the door in hand, and
-looked down at the little creature.
-
-"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.
-
-"Fair--fair to whom, Aunt Polly?" Northrup's brows drew together.
-
-"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.
-
-"Aunt Polly, look at me." This was spoken sternly.
-
-"I _am_ looking, son, I am looking." And so she was.
-
-"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?"
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-"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. 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."
-
-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.
-
-"Sign there!" he said.
-
-"I'll sign where I damn please." Larry showed his teeth. "How much you
-going to give me for my woman?"
-
-For a moment the sordid room seemed to be swirling in a flood of red
-and yellow. Northrup got on his feet.
-
-"I don't want to kill you," he muttered, "but you deserve it."
-
-"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.
-
-"How much is--is the price for the Point?" he mumbled.
-
-Northrup mastered his rage and sat down. Feeling sure that Rivers
-would dicker he said quietly:
-
-"A thousand dollars."
-
-"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.
-
-"Rivers, I expected this, so I'll name my final price. Fifteen
-hundred! Hurry up and sign that paper."
-
-Larry signed it unsteadily but clearly.
-
-"Have you seen your wife, Rivers?" Northrup passed a cheque across the
-table.
-
-"I'm going to see her to-morrow--I have up to Friday, you know."
-
-"Yes, that's true. I must go to-morrow morning, but I'll make sure you
-keep to your bargain."
-
-"And--you?" Rivers's lips curled.
-
-"I have kept my bargain."
-
-"And you'll get away without talking to my wife?"
-
-Northrup's eyes grew dark.
-
-"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."
-
-"I'll get out all right."
-
-"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----"
-
-"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?"
-
-"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."
-
-With that Northrup left the shack and retraced his lonely way to the
-inn.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Could he hope for her understanding if without another word he left
-her to draw her own conclusions from his future life?
-
-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.
-
-Then, as it was always to be in the time on ahead, Mary-Clare herself
-seemed to speak to him.
-
-"It is what one does to love that matters." That was it--"What one
-does."
-
-With this fixed in his mind Northrup wrote:
-
-  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.
-
-  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.
-
-  There was a mad moment on the hill that last day we met--you saved
-  it.
-
-  There is a greater thing than love--it is truth, and that is why I
-  must bid you good-bye--in this way.
-
-Crude and jagged as the thought was, Northrup, in rereading his words,
-did not now shrink from Mary-Clare's interpretation. She _would_
-understand.
-
-After an early breakfast, at which Kathryn did not 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 _calm_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Take it, Jan-an," Larry urged. "I'd like to remember you taking it."
-
-The girl, thus urged, hid the money in her bosom and shuffled out.
-
-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 d�bris of the Point.
-
-Never before had he been so surely leaving everything as he was now.
-In the old days of separation, there had always been _home_ 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.
-
-Traditional prejudice rose in Rivers and made him hard and bitter. He
-felt himself a victim of others' misunderstanding.
-
-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.
-
-"And Mary-Clare!" At this his face set cruelly. "She should have stood
-by me. What was her sense of duty, anyway?"
-
-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 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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Mary-Clare looked at her husband distantly but not unkindly. She did
-not resent his being there--the Place was no longer hers alone.
-
-"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.
-
-"A letter."
-
-"Full of directions, I suppose?" Larry smiled an ugly, keen smile.
-
-"Directions? What do you mean?"
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare stared at Rivers in helpless amazement--but her fingers
-closed more firmly upon the note.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Do you know why my father kept me from home and put you in my place?"
-he demanded.
-
-"No, Larry."
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"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, 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.
-
-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.
-
-"Don't, Larry"--Mary-Clare spoke at last and there were tears in her
-eyes--"please don't. You've said enough."
-
-She felt as though she were looking at the dying face of a suicide.
-
-"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."
-
-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:
-
-"You mean--that he did not want me to marry you? And that last
-night--he did not say--what you said you understood?"
-
-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.
-
-"Oh!" The one word was like a blighting shaft that killed all that was
-left to kill.
-
-Larry put forth a pitiful defence.
-
-"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 the hush
-money I have now, I'm coming back for more--more--and you and he are
-going to pay."
-
-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.
-
-"Give that to me!" he commanded, and reached for the clenched hand on
-the table.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Larry did both and Mary-Clare took no heed.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Brace, dear," she whispered, "I'm so afraid. The storm; everything
-frightens me. Take me in your arms."
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"All right!" Noreen said at last. "We'll both do something."
-
-This clever psychological ruse brought Jan-an to her normal state.
-
-"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."
-
-This was a great concession on Noreen's part, for she revelled in the
-leading r�le, as it gave full play to her dramatic sense of justice.
-
-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, 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.
-
-But the interest flagged at length, and both Jan-an and Noreen became
-silent and depressed.
-
-"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?"
-
-Noreen was replacing her favoured children in the crannies of the
-rocks, but she turned now to Jan-an and said wistfully:
-
-"I want Motherly."
-
-"She's biding terrible long up yonder."
-
-"P'raps, oh! Jan-an, p'raps that lady you were telling about has taken
-Motherly!"
-
-Noreen became agitated, but Jan-an with blind intuition scoffed.
-
-"No; whatever she took, she wouldn't take her! But she took Mr.
-Northrup, all right. Her kind takes just fierce! I sense her."
-
-Noreen looked blank.
-
-"Tell me about the heathen, Jan-an," she said. "What _did_ he eat when
-Uncle Peter wouldn't let him have Ginger?"
-
-"I don't know, but I did miss two rabbits."
-
-"Live ones, Jan-an?" Noreen's eyes widened.
-
-"Sure, live ones. Everything's live till it's killed. I ain't saying
-he et 'em 'live."
-
-"Maybe the rabbits got away," Noreen suggested hopefully.
-
-"The Lord knows! Maybe they did." Then Jan-an added further
-information: "I guess your father has gone for good!"
-
-"Took?" Noreen was not now overcome by grief.
-
-"No, just gone. He gave me a dollar."
-
-"A dollar, Jan-an? A whole dollar?" This was almost unbelievable.
-Jan-an produced the evidence from her loose and soiled blouse.
-
-"He left his place terribly tidy, too," she ran on, "and when a man
-does that Peneluna says it's awful suspicious."
-
-"Jan-an, you wait here--I'm going up to the cabin!"
-
-Noreen stood up defiantly. She was possessed by one of her sudden
-flashes of inspiration.
-
-"Yer ain't been called," warned Jan-an.
-
-"I know, but I _must_ go. I'll only peep in. Maybe Motherly took a
-back way to the inn."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Noreen reached the shack and peeped in at the vine-covered window.
-What she saw marked a turning-point in the child's life.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-But again Mary-Clare, from exhaustion or faintness, slipped into
-silence, and so Noreen found her!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Uncle Peter!
-
-Aunt Polly!
-
-Peneluna! And then Jan-an! Jan-an!
-
-As she sobbed and screamed Mary-Clare's eyes opened and she smiled. At
-that moment Jan-an came stumbling into the room.
-
-One look and the dull, faithful creature became a machine carrying out
-the routine that she had often shared with others on the Point.
-
-"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.
-
-"She's had a fall," Jan-an announced. Mary-Clare opened her eyes--the
-words found an echo in her heavy brain.
-
-"Yes," she whispered.
-
-"And on an empty stummick!" Jan-an had a sympathetic twinge.
-
-"Yes," again Mary-Clare whispered and smiled.
-
-"Noreen, you go on sopping her face--I'm going to get something hot."
-
-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, thinking, and it hurt her to think consecutively--but she
-thought on.
-
-"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.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-Outside the darkness of the coming storm pressed close, the wind was
-straining at the leash, the lightning darted and the thunder rolled.
-
-"The storm," murmured Mary-Clare, "the storm! It is the breaking up of
-summer!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-She felt as one must who, escaping from an overwhelming flood, looks
-upon the destruction and wonders at her own escape. But she _had_
-escaped! That became, presently, the one gripping fact. She had
-escaped and she would find safety somewhere.
-
-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.
-
-And then Mary-Clare led the way down the trail--her leaf-strewn,
-hidden trail. She held Noreen's hand in hers but she leaned upon
-Jan-an. As they descended Mary-Clare planned.
-
-"When we get home, Jan-an, home to the yellow house, I want you to go
-for Peneluna."
-
-From all the world, Mary-Clare desired the old understanding woman.
-
-"I guess you mean Aunt Polly," Jan-an suggested.
-
-"No. To-morrow, Aunt Polly, Jan-an. To-day I want Peneluna."
-
-"All right." Jan-an nodded.
-
-"And, Noreen dear."
-
-"Yes, Motherly."
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, Motherly."
-
-"I may have to rest a little, but you must not be worried--you see,
-Mother hasn't rested in a long while."
-
-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.
-
-"Now," she said at last, "I'll go. I guess you're edging to the limit,
-ain't yer?"
-
-Mary-Clare nodded.
-
-"I've never been sick, not plain sick, in all my life," she murmured,
-"and why should I be now?"
-
-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.
-
-She touched Noreen's sleeping face so gently that the child did not
-heed the caress. Then:
-
-"Perhaps I am going to die--people die so easily at times--just flare
-out!"
-
-And so Peneluna found her and knelt beside her.
-
-"You hear me, Mary-Clare?"
-
-"Yes. I hear you, of course."
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes, Peneluna."
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-It was a rough and difficult Way and beset with dangers. A physician
-came and diagnosed the case.
-
-"Bad fall--almost concussion."
-
-Aunt Polly came and shared the nursing. Jan-an mechanically attended
-to the house while Uncle Peter took Noreen under his care.
-
-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!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 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.
-
-"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!"
-
-Surely God heard and made answer, for that night Mary-Clare's Way
-turned back again toward the little yellow house.
-
-When she was able, Aunt Polly insisted that she be moved to the inn.
-
-"It will make less trouble all around and Peneluna will stay on."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-This became a thrilling mental exercise to Mary-Clare, 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.
-
-Presently Mary-Clare was able to walk in the sunshine and then she
-often went to the deserted chapel and sat silent for hours.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-Mary-Clare gathered her cloak closer, as if shrinking from the
-smiling, unwholesome-looking man.
-
-"Yes, I'm getting well fast," she said.
-
-"Hear anything from Larry?" It seemed best to hide his own feelings as
-to Larry.
-
-"No."
-
-"Some worried, I expect?"
-
-"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!
-
-"It's a damned mean way to treat a little woman the way you've been
-treated."
-
-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.
-
-"Left you strapped?" he asked.
-
-"What is that?" Mary-Clare was interested.
-
-"Short of money."
-
-"Oh! no. My wishes are very simple--there's money enough for them."
-
-"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 _as_
-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 _can_ 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 _make_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-"Speak up, Mrs. Rivers!" This came like a poke in the ribs--Mary-Clare
-recoiled as from a physical touch.
-
-"I do not own the Point any longer," she said.
-
-"What in thunder!" Maclin now recoiled. "Who then?"
-
-"I gave it to Larry."
-
-"How the devil could Larry pay you for it?"
-
-"Larry gave me no money."
-
-"Do you expect me to believe this, Mrs. Rivers?" The fat now resumed
-its flaccid lines.
-
-"It doesn't interest me in the least, Mr. Maclin, whether you do or
-not."
-
-Then Mary-Clare rose, rather weakly, and turned toward the bridge.
-
-And there stood Maclin alone! Like all people who have 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.
-
-Had he copied letters with that devilish trick of his? Could he sell
-the Point to--to----?
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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, even, had been cheated. Women were,
-he justly concluded, pretty much a response to ideals created for
-them, not by them.
-
-Mary-Clare was having her way with Northrup!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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--_his_--was threatened. Nothing any longer seemed safe
-unless it were battled for. There was something he owed--what was it?
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"It's all damned rot, Brace," he snapped. "You had a 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."
-
-Thus reassured, Northrup told Kathryn that all the secret diplomacy
-was to be abandoned and that his mother must work with them.
-
-"But, Brace dear, you don't blame me for my fright? I was so
-worried!"
-
-"No, little girl, you were a trump. I'll never forget how you stood
-by!"
-
-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.
-
-"Women! women!" he ejaculated, but there were hours when he, too, had
-his fears.
-
-But in the end, black doubt was driven away.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-He attacked Northrup one day in his sledge-hammer style.
-
-"What in thunder has got mixed up in your personality?" he asked.
-
-"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."
-
-But this did not satisfy Manly.
-
-"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."
-
-"Or the other way about, old man?" Northrup broke in and laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Manly twisted in his seat uneasily. Northrup went on.
-
-"Manly"--he spoke quietly, evenly--"do you remember our last talk in
-this office before I left?"
-
-"Well, some of it. Yes."
-
-"Jogs, you know. Mountain peaks, baby hands, women faces, and souls?"
-
-"Oh! yes. Sick talk to a sick man." Manly snapped his fingers.
-
-"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.
-
-"I meant that I saw mine once," he said sharply, definitely.
-
-"How did it look?"
-
-"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."
-
-"No. And that's exactly what I am up against--the get-back!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Wait, dear, until I've finished the thing, and then you and I will
-have a regular gorge of it, up in my tower."
-
-Kathryn at this put up her mouth to be kissed while behind her
-innocent smile she was picturing the girl of King's Forest in those
-awful muddy trousers! _She_ had heard the book in the making; she had
-not been pushed aside.
-
-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 _was_ changed. The subtle
-unrest did not escape Kathryn.
-
-"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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-So Kathryn, embroidering her wedding linen--for she meant to be
-married soon--prayed for guidance.
-
-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 _was_ the right sort.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-King's Forest had had a sinister effect upon Manly; it made him doubt
-himself.
-
-And so life, apparently, ran along smoothly on the surface. It was the
-undercurrents that were really carrying things along at a terrific
-rate.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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 to him in faithfulness and
-understanding? Had she not, setting aside her own rights, looked well
-to his?
-
-The days dragged along and each one took its toll of Northrup's
-vitality while it intensified that crusading emotion in his soul.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Love's supreme sacrifice and glory, as portrayed in woman--_must_ be
-man's ideal, of course!
-
-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.
-
-And then, at this crucial moment, Mary-Clare _would_ always intrude.
-
-"It's what one does to love!" That was her stern ultimatum. "Love's
-best proof might be renunciation, not surrender!"
-
-"Nonsense!" Northrup flung back. "How then could a man be sure? No
-book with such an ending would stand a chance."
-
-"You must not harm your book by such a doubt. That book must be
-_true_, and you know the truth. Women must be made glad by it, men
-stronger because someone understands and is brave enough to say it."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-It was like being with her on that day when they stood on the mountain
-near her cabin and talked.
-
-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 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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup suddenly found himself on his feet.
-
-The little room was dark; the city was blazing about him--under him.
-His city! His hand lay upon his manuscript.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX
-
-
-"Mother, I must go!"
-
-Helen Northrup did not tremble, but she looked white, thin-lipped.
-
-"You have given me the twenty-four hours, son. You have weighed the
-question--it is not emotional excitement?"
-
-"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."
-
-Helen Northrup came to the window and stood beside her son. She did
-not touch him; she stood close--that was all.
-
-"I cannot see God in this," she whispered. "God could have found
-another way. I have--lost God. I fear most of us have."
-
-"Perhaps we never had Him," Northrup murmured.
-
-"But there _is_ God--somewhere." Helen's voice quivered. "I shall
-always be near you, beloved, always, and perhaps--God will."
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, I know that, dear son."
-
-For a moment they stood in silence by the window and then turned,
-together, to the fireside.
-
-They were in Helen's writing-room. The room where so 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----
-
-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.
-
-"You have been happy, dear son? I mean you have had a happy life on
-the whole?"
-
-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.
-
-"Yes, Mother. Far too happy and easy."
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup went across the space between him and his mother and laid his
-hand upon hers.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"And he wasn't?" This had never been discussed between them.
-
-"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."
-
-Another pause. Then:
-
-"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."
-
-"I believe, God hearing me, Mother, that I have understood; have
-always known that you were the best and dearest of mothers."
-
-"Thank you."
-
-"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."
-
-Helen started, but she stiffened at once.
-
-"Yes, Brace," she said simply.
-
-"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."
-
-"Thank you. I understand. Is there anything you would like to have me
-do?"
-
-"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:
-
-"She has a brute of a husband--I hope I freed her of him, in a way;
-I'm glad to think of that now. She has a child, a little girl, and
-there were some dead children."
-
-This detail seemed tragically necessary to tell; it seemed to explain
-all else.
-
-"And now, Mother, I must go around to Kathryn's. Do not sit up, dear.
-I'll come to your room."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"Here, dear! Come and be comfy. This is a big chair and a very little
-me."
-
-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, 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.
-
-"Been dining out, dear?"
-
-The dress suggested this, but Kathryn was alert.
-
-"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?"
-
-Still Northrup did not smile. He was not concerned about Arnold, but
-he seemed such a nuisance at this moment.
-
-Kathryn, regarding Northrup's face, sat up and her eyes widened.
-
-"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.
-
-"Poor little girl," he whispered. Kathryn also misunderstood, she
-nestled against him.
-
-"Big man," she murmured, "he _is_ going to be nice. Kiss me
-here--close behind my right ear--always and always that is going to be
-just your place."
-
-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:
-
-"Darling, I am going away!"
-
-"Away--where?" Kathryn became rigid.
-
-"Overseas."
-
-"Overseas? What for, in heaven's name?"
-
-"Oh! anything they'll let me do. I'm going as soon as I can be
-sent--but----"
-
-"You mean, without any reason whatever, you're going to go over
-there?"
-
-"Hardly without something that stands for reason, Kathryn."
-
-"But no one, not even Doctor Manly, thinks that it is our fight,
-Brace. The men who have gone are simply adventurers; men who love
-excitement or men who want to cut responsibilities and don't dare
-confess it."
-
-Kathryn's face flamed hot.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"Oh! you must not leave me," she quivered.
-
-"You will help me, Kathryn; be a woman like my mother?" Again Northrup
-pleaded. This was unfortunate. It steadied Kathryn, but it hardened
-her.
-
-"You want me to marry you at once, Brace?" she whispered.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"He cannot stand it any longer," she thought resentfully; "he's
-willing to do anything, take any chance."
-
-A hot wave of anger enveloped Kathryn, but she did not speak.
-
-"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."
-
-"What can I say, Brace? You never see _my_ 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 _smile_ so as to
-send them off unworried. We must stay home and be _nothings_ until the
-end and then take what's left--joyfully, gratefully--oh! I hate it
-all."
-
-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:
-
-"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 _you_----"
-
-"You mean that _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."
-
-"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!"
-
-"Sisters?" Kathryn laughed her mirthless but musical laugh. "You _are_
-funny, Brace!"
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"No, Kathryn. This is a matter of principle with me."
-
-"You think they might not let you go--you'd have to provide for my
-protection?"
-
-"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."
-
-"That sounds very fine, but _I_ do not believe it!"
-
-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.
-
-"Is _she_ going over there?" she asked.
-
-Northrup, if possible, looked more bewildered and dazed.
-
-"She--whom do you mean, Kathryn?"
-
-"Oh! I never meant to tell you! You drive me to it, Brace. I always
-meant to blot it out----"
-
-Kathryn got no further just then. Northrup came close to her and with
-folded arms fixed his eyes upon her flushed face.
-
-"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'?"
-
-Kathryn mentally recoiled and with her back to her wall replied, out
-of the corner of her mouth:
-
-"That girl in King's Forest!"
-
-From sheer astonishment Northrup drew back as from a blow. Kathryn
-misunderstood and gained courage.
-
-"I forgave it because I love you, Brace." She gathered her cheap
-little charms together--her sex appeals. "I understood from the moment
-I saw her."
-
-"When did you see her? Where?"
-
-Northrup had recovered himself; he was able to think. He knew he must
-act quickly, emphatically, and he generously tried to be just.
-
-Keen to take advantage of what she believed was guilt, Kathryn
-responded, dragging her lures along with her.
-
-"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?"
-
-The tears stood in Kathryn's eyes, her mouth quivered. Northrup
-softened.
-
-"Go on, Kathryn. I _do_ understand."
-
-"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----"
-
-"Yes, Kathryn!" Northrup was seeing it all--the cabin, the silent
-red-and-gold woods.
-
-"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 _she_ must have realized.
-Oh! Brace, I tried to be kind, but I had to take your part and she
-turned me out!"
-
-In all this Northrup felt his way as one does along a narrow 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?
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Love! This poor, shabby counterfeit.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"You are going at once?" Kathryn clutched at what was eluding her.
-
-"Yes, my dear."
-
-"And you won't marry me? Won't--prove to me?"
-
-"No."
-
-"Oh! how can you leave me to think----"
-
-"Think what, Kathryn?"
-
-"Oh! things--about her. It would be such a proof of what you've just
-said--if only you would marry me now."
-
-"Kathryn, I cannot. I am--I wish that you could understand--I am
-stepping out into the dark. I must go alone."
-
-"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.
-
-"I will wait for you, Brace. I will prove to you what a woman's real
-love is!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Yes, dear?" she said.
-
-Northrup sat down in the chair that was his by his mother's hearth.
-
-"Kathryn wanted to marry me, Mother, at once."
-
-"That would be like her, bless her heart!"
-
-"I could not accept the sacrifice, Mother."
-
-"That would be like you--but is it a sacrifice?"
-
-"It seems so to me."
-
-"You see, son, to many women this is the supreme offering. All _they_
-can give, vicariously, at this great demanding hour."
-
-"Women must learn to stop that rubbish, Mother. We men must refuse
-it."
-
-"Why, Brace!" Then: "Are you quite, quite sure it was all for Kathryn,
-son?"
-
-"No, partly for myself; but that must include and emphasize Kathryn's
-share."
-
-"I see--at least I think I do."
-
-"But you have faith, Mother?"
-
-"Yes, faith! Surely, faith."
-
-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:
-
-"And you, Mother, what will you do? I cannot bear to think of you
-waiting here alone."
-
-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.
-
-"I'm not going to--wait, dear, in the sense you mean. I'm going to
-work and get ready for your return."
-
-"Work?" Northrup looked anxious. Helen smiled down upon him.
-
-"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 it. While you are away you must think of me, busy--busy!"
-
-Then she bent and laid her pale fine face against the dark bowed
-head.
-
-"You are tired, dear, very, very tired. You must go to bed and
-rest--there is so much to do; so much."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"And don't come back till spring!" she commanded.
-
-"Spring?" Jan-an paused as she was strapping on an old pair of skates
-that once belonged to Philander Sniff. "Spring? Gawd!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-At the inn a vague something--was it old age or lost faith?--was
-trying to conquer Peter's philosophy and Aunt Polly's spiritual
-vision. The _Thing_, 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.
-
-As for herself? Well, Aunt Polly nourished her own brave spirit by
-service and an insistent, demanding cry of justice.
-
-"'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."
-
-Polly waxed eloquent and courageous; she kept her own faith by voicing
-it to others; it grew upon reiteration.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-"Don't leg me, Peter Heathcote, I'm terrible ashamed of you. Terrible.
-So long as you _have_ legs, brother--and you _have_!--I say use 'em.
-Half the troubles in this world are _think troubles_, laid to legs and
-backs and what not."
-
-"Where you been?" Peter eyed the stern little face glowering at him.
-"You look tuckered."
-
-"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!"
-
-Peter winced and Polly rambled on:
-
-"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!"
-
-Peter regarded the dog by his side and remarked sadly:
-
-"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."
-
-"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?"
-
-"No." Peter's hair sprang up; his face reddened. Polly noted the good
-signs and took heart.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, brother, and what else?"
-
-"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.
-
-"I guess the Lord can care for His own, Peter," Polly remarked
-fiercely.
-
-"Then Maclin came!" Peter groaned out the words, for this was the crux
-of the matter.
-
-"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."
-
-Peter gave a rumbling laugh.
-
-"Maclin a tester!" he repeated. "Lord, Polly, yer notions are more
-messing than clearing."
-
-"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."
-
-Peter was not listening, he was thinking aloud.
-
-"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!"
-
-"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!"
-
-"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!"
-
-"Well, he didn't do it!" Polly snapped. "And it seems like God is
-giving us another chance; same as He is the world."
-
-Peter got up and stumped noisily about the kitchen much to Ginger's
-surprise and discomfort.
-
-"We're old, Polly," he muttered; "the heart's taken out of us. We led
-'em astray because we didn't lead 'em right."
-
-"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."
-
-"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!"
-
-"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."
-
-"But, Polly"--poor Peter's humanity had received a terrible jog--"the
-look on Maclin's face--when he was caught!"
-
-"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_ 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!"
-
-But Peter could not be diverted.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Well, he should have held still--he put up fight. Brother, you make
-me indignant."
-
-"They mauled him, Polly, mauled him. And they took him--to what?"
-
-Polly got up.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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?"
-
-This sudden question roused Aunt Polly; she had hoped it would not be
-asked.
-
-"Yes, Peter. Twombley has," she faltered.
-
-"Where is he?" Peter's mouth gaped.
-
-"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."
-
-A silence fell in the warm, sunny room. Then Polly spoke with a catch
-in her voice:
-
-"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."
-
-"I guess that's sensible," Peter nodded, "he mightn't do it, you
-know."
-
-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.
-
-"It's powerful hot here!" Peter muttered, wiping his face. "And what
-in thunder ails that dog?"
-
-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.
-
-"Fits?" Peter looked concerned. But Polly had an inspiration.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"Peter dear, spring is here!" Polly said this like a prayer.
-
-"Spring!" Peter's voice echoed the sound. Then he turned to the closet
-for his coat and hat.
-
-"Where you going, brother?"
-
-The big bulky figure, ready for a new adventure, turned at the door.
-
-"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."
-
-Polly watched the two pass from sight and then she readjusted her
-spectacles to the far-off angle.
-
-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.
-
-"I never saw such a responsive door!" she said. "I really knocked very
-gently. Please tell me how far it is to the inn?"
-
-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.
-
-"Just three miles to the south." Mary-Clare came close. "You are
-walking? I will send my little girl with you. Noreen?"
-
-But Jan-an was holding Noreen back.
-
-"She's one of them other children of Eve!" she cautioned. "Don't
-forget the other one!"
-
-"Thank you so much," the stranger was speaking. "But may I rest here
-for a moment? These children--is it a school."
-
-"A queer one, I'm afraid. We're all teachers, all pupils--even the
-dogs."
-
-Mary-Clare looked at her small group.
-
-"One has to do something, you know," she said. "Something to help."
-
-"Yes. And will you send the children away for a moment? I have
-something to say to you."
-
-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.
-
-When the children were gone the stranger leaned forward and said
-quietly:
-
-"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."
-
-The tears stood in Mary-Clare's wide eyes, her lips trembled.
-
-"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."
-
-"Oh! can we? Why, that would be the most splendid thing. We're all
-so--so frightened."
-
-"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.
-
-"Yes." Mary-Clare was impressed.
-
-"And there's iron on the Point--we must get at that--you own the
-Point?"
-
-"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.
-
-"I see. Well, we must get this Mr. Northrup busy, then. Where is he?"
-
-Mrs. Dana tucked the book away and her eyes looked kindly into
-Mary-Clare's.
-
-"I do not know. He went to his--to the city--New York."
-
-"And you have never heard from him?"
-
-"No."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"I like the look of you," she confided softly.
-
-"I'm glad. I like the look of you very much, little Noreen."
-
-"Do you know any stories or songs?" Noreen had her private test.
-
-"I used to, but it has been a long while since I thought about them.
-Do you know any, Noreen?"
-
-"Oh! many. My man taught me. He taught me to be unafraid, too."
-
-"Your man, little girl?" Mrs. Dana turned her eyes away.
-
-"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."
-
-"And he sang for you?"
-
-"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.
-
-"I used to. It goes something like this--doesn't it?
-
-    "Up the airy mountain
-    Down the rustly glen----
-
-I have forgotten the rest." Mrs. Dana closed her eyes.
-
-"Oh! that's kingdiferous," Noreen laughed with delight. "I'll sing the
-rest, then we'll sing together:
-
-    "We daren't go a-hunting
-      For fear of little men.
-    Wee folk, good folk
-      Trooping all together,
-    Green jacket, red cap
-      And white owl's feather."
-
-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.
-
-"Now, then," Noreen insisted, "we can sing it betterer this time.
-
-    "Green jacket, red cap
-      And white owl's feather."
-
-Suddenly Noreen stopped.
-
-"Your face looks funny," she said. "Your lips are laughing, but your
-eyes--is it the sun in your eyes?"
-
-Mrs. Dana bent until her head was close to Noreen's.
-
-"Little girl, little Noreen," she said, "that is it--the sun is in my
-eyes."
-
-"There's the inn!" Noreen was uncomfortable. Things were not turning
-out quite as gaily as she hoped. Things did not, any more.
-
-"Shall I go right to the door with you?" she asked.
-
-"No. I want to go alone. Good-bye, Noreen."
-
-"I hope you'll stay a long time!" Noreen paused on the road.
-
-"Why, dear?"
-
-"Because Motherly liked you, and I like you. Good-bye."
-
-And Mrs. Dana stayed a long time, though after the first week her
-sojourn was marked by incidents, not hours.
-
-"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."
-
-Twombley shifted in his chair--the two men were sitting in the spring
-sunshine by Twombley's door.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, I reckon that's safest." Peter was uplifted, but cautious.
-
-"She's set Peneluna to painting all the houses--yeller," Twombley
-rambled on, the smell of fresh paint filling his nostrils. "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."
-
-"Mighty queer doings!" Heathcote agreed.
-
-"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."
-
-Peter drew his chair closer.
-
-"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."
-
-"Gosh! Heathcote; it's like the Judgment Day and no place to hide
-in!"
-
-"That's about it, Twombley. No place to hide in."
-
-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.
-
-                  *       *       *       *       *
-
-The summer passed, another winter--not so cruel as the last--and the
-spring came, less violently.
-
-                  *       *       *       *       *
-
-It was early summer when another event shook the none-too-steady
-Forest. Larry came home!
-
-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.
-
-"It is--you, ain't it?" she gasped.
-
-"What's left of me--yes." There was a strange new note in Rivers's
-voice.
-
-Jan-an's horror-filled eyes took in the significance of the words.
-
-"Where's--the rest of you?" she gasped.
-
-Larry touched the pinned-up leg of his trousers.
-
-"I paid a debt with the rest," he said, and there was that in his
-voice that brought Jan-an closer to him.
-
-"Where yer bound for?" she asked, her dull face quivering.
-
-"I don't know. A fellow gave me a lift and dropped me--here."
-
-"You come along home!" Jan-an bent and half lifted Larry. "Lean on me.
-There, now, lean heavy and take it easy."
-
-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.
-
-"Larry!" she faltered. She was utterly unprepared. She had been kept
-in ignorance of the little that others knew.
-
-"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.
-
-"You have come--home, Larry! Home. Your father's home."
-
-And then Larry's head rested on her shoulder; her arms upheld him, for
-the crutch clattered to the floor.
-
-"My father's home," he repeated like a hurt child--"that's it--my
-father's home."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXII
-
-
-But beyond that exalted moment stretched the plain, drear days. Days
-holding subtle danger and marvellous revelations.
-
-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.
-
-"Perhaps, if I pay and pay"--he had pleaded with the sad thing--"I can
-win out yet!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-She assumed an old and protecting manner toward him that would have
-been amusing had it not been so tragically pathetic.
-
-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.
-
-"You're my baby, daddy-linkum, and I'm your motherly. Come, shut your
-eyes, and lall a leep!"
-
-And Larry would sleep, often to awake with an unwholesome merriment
-that frightened Mary-Clare.
-
-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:
-
-"It's great, this being home!"
-
-"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.
-
-"Are you, honest?"
-
-"Yes, Larry. Honest."
-
-"I wonder." It was the old voice now. "When I lay out there, and
-crawled along----"
-
-"Please, Larry, we have agreed not to talk of that!"
-
-"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."
-
-"Please, Larry!"
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, second sight, Larry."
-
-"And Noreen--she is mine, Mary-Clare." This was flung out defiantly.
-
-"Part yours. Yes, Larry."
-
-"She's a great kid. Old as the hills and then again--a baby-thing."
-
-"We must not strain her, Larry, we cannot afford to put too heavy a
-load on her. She would bear it until she dropped."
-
-"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?"
-
-"I haven't been there for a long while, Larry." Mary-Clare's hands
-clutched each other until the bones ached.
-
-"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."
-
-"Larry, I will not talk about that--ever!"
-
-"You can't forgive?"
-
-"I have forgiven long ago."
-
-"Nothing happened between you and him, Mary-Clare. You're great stuff.
-Great! And so is he."
-
-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.
-
-"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----"
-
-The heart of Mary-Clare seemed to stop as the groping fingers touched
-her.
-
-"Look at me, Mary-Clare!"
-
-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.
-
-"You mean you do not care?" Larry's voice shook like a frightened
-child's; "that you'll never care?"
-
-"I care tremendously, Larry, and I will do my best. But you must not
-ask for more."
-
-"Good God! and I crawled back for this!" The words ended in a sob;
-"for this! I thought I could pay but I cannot--ever, ever!"
-
-                  *       *       *       *       *
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Mother!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"It doesn't seem possible, you know!" he said.
-
-"Being home, dear?" Helen watched him. Every new line of his fine
-brown face made her lips firmer.
-
-"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. 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."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Helen was half sick with fear of what would occur when Brace saw
-Kathryn.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-It was long after eight o'clock, that first evening, when Northrup
-left his mother's house.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Will you wait, sir, in the reception-room?" The trim maid looked
-flurried. "I will tell Miss Kathryn at once."
-
-Northrup sat down in the dim room, fragrant with flowers, and a sense
-of peace overcame his doubts.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"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."
-
-"Please, Sandy, you are cruel." Kathryn was pleading.
-
-"Cruel be damned! And what are you? I want you--you've told me that
-you loved me--what's the big idea?"
-
-"Oh! Sandy, do lower your voice. Aunt Anna will think the servants are
-quarrelling."
-
-"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.
-
-"What in thunder!" Sandy gave a coarse laugh. "Keeping to the servant
-notion, eh? Want me to go out the side door? Why?"
-
-"Oh! Sandy, you won't mind?--I have a reason, I'll tell you some
-day."
-
-There was a pause, a scuffle. Then:
-
-"Sandy, you are hurting me!"
-
-"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?"
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-"Brace! Brace!" she cried, her lovely eyes widening. "You have come."
-
-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:
-
-"You see, I happened to hear you and Arnold."
-
-Kathryn's face went deadly white.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-Kathryn stood still, breathing hard.
-
-"Yes or no!"
-
-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!
-
-"Yes," she said gaspingly.
-
-"You mean you love Arnold; that only duty held you to me?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"Well, by God!" Northrup flung his head back and laughed--"and after
-all I have been fearing, too!"
-
-To her dying day Kathryn never knew what he meant by those words.
-There was a moment's silence, then Northrup spoke again:
-
-"I don't think there is anything more to say. Shall I take the side
-entrance?"
-
-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.
-
-"Good God!" Northrup thought, "we're coming back to all kinds of
-hells."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-He went in and stood near her.
-
-"I've about concluded," he said harshly, "that the fellows who keep to
-the herd are the sensible ones."
-
-The words conveyed no meaning to Helen Northrup, but the tones did.
-
-"Sit down, dear," she said calmly. "If this shower strikes us, I do
-not want to be alone."
-
-Northrup drew a chair to the window and the red flashes lighted his
-face luridly.
-
-"Having ideals is rot. Dying for them, madness. Mother, it's all over
-between Kathryn and me!"
-
-Helen's own development had done more for her than she would ever
-realize, but from out its strength and security she spoke:
-
-"Brace, I am glad! Now you can live your ideals."
-
-Northrup turned sharply.
-
-"What do you mean?" he said.
-
-"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 _really_ is,
-looming dark over the girl she made us believe she was. I have feared
-for you, but now I am glad. Brace, there _are_ women a man can count
-on. Cling hold of that."
-
-"Yes, I know that, of course."
-
-"Women whose honour is as high and clear as that of the best of men."
-
-"Yes, Mother."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup needed comfort, Heaven knew, but it must come from within,
-not without.
-
-At that instant Helen Northrup gripped the arms of her chair and sent
-a quick prayer to the God of mothers of grown sons.
-
-"The storm seems to be passing," she said quietly.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Mother, how _did_ you do it?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-They bade each other good-night. Mother and son, they looked
-marvellously alike at that moment. Then:
-
-"I declare, I almost forgot Manly. How has this all struck him,
-Mother?"
-
-Helen's face was radiant.
-
-"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."
-
-"He'll reach the top, Mother. Manly's bound for the top of things."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIII
-
-
-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.
-
-It was slow work. Good God! how slow, and oh, the suffering!
-
-He had paid a high price but he could now look at his city without
-shame.
-
-This was a fortifying thought, but a lonely one, and it did not lead
-to constructive work. The days were listless and empty.
-
-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.
-
-But the intelligence and concentration were not in his power to
-bestow.
-
-After a few days he regarded his new freedom with strange exhilaration
-mingled with fear and distrust.
-
-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?
-
-One could err in duty, it seemed.
-
-He was free! He had not exacted freedom! It had been thrust upon him
-so brutally, that it had, for a spell, sent him reeling into space.
-
-Not being able to resume his work, Northrup got to thinking about
-King's Forest with concentration, if not intelligence.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-Sitting alone under his dome of changing lights, Northrup became a
-prey to whimsical fancies that amused while they hurt.
-
-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.
-
-The sweet human qualities he knew were not lacking in Mary-Clare. They
-were simply heightened, brightened.
-
-All this led to but one thing.
-
-Something was bound to happen, and suddenly Northrup decided to go to
-King's Forest!
-
-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 to make preparations. Of
-course, he argued, he meant to keep the spirit, if not the letter, of
-his agreement with Larry Rivers.
-
-This was not safe reasoning, and he set it aside impatiently.
-
-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.
-
-He did the distance in half the time. His strong, hardened body served
-him well and his desire spurred him on.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-It was autumn and the days were growing short.
-
-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."
-
-At that voice Northrup slammed the door behind him and strode across
-the space separating him from Larry Rivers!
-
-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.
-
-Northrup in a moment grasped the essentials.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Well, I'm here, too, Rivers. Life has been stronger than either of
-us. We've both drifted back."
-
-Larry turned away his head. It was then that Northrup caught the full
-significance of what life had done to Rivers!
-
-"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!"
-
-Larry was now nervously twisting his fingers, and his face grew
-ashen.
-
-"I'm listening, Rivers. Go on."
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes, Rivers, I see." There could be no mercy in deceiving this
-desperate man.
-
-"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!"
-
-"Perhaps your longing brought me, Rivers. Things like that happen, you
-know."
-
-Northrup, moved by pity, laid his hand on the shrunken ones near him.
-All feeling of antagonism was gone.
-
-"It began the night I was shot," Larry's voice fell, "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!
-
-"There were two of us that night, Northrup, two of us crawling away
-from the hell in the dark. You know!"
-
-"Yes, Rivers, I know."
-
-"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.
-
-"When help came, there was only room for one. One had to wait.
-
-"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!
-
-"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."
-
-"I think, Rivers, you played fair!"
-
-"Why? Northrup, what makes you think that?" The haggard face seemed to
-look less ghastly.
-
-"I've seen others do it at such a time."
-
-"Others like me?"
-
-"Yes, Rivers, many times."
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"That's what it is--my father's house. You catch on?"
-
-"Yes, Rivers, I catch on." Then after a pause: "Let me light the
-lamp." But Rivers caught hold of him.
-
-"No, don't waste time--they may come back at any moment--there'll
-never be another chance."
-
-"All right, go on, Rivers."
-
-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.
-
-"There isn't much more to say. I wanted you to know that I'm not going
-to be in the way very long.
-
-"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."
-
-"It means that and more, Rivers."
-
-Northrup heard his own words with a kind of shock. Again he and Rivers
-were stripped bare as once before they had been.
-
-"It--it won't be long, Northrup--there's damned little I can do to--to
-make good, but--I can do this."
-
-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.
-
-"Rivers, you are a brave man," he slowly said. "Will you shake
-hands?"
-
-The thin cold fingers instantly responded.
-
-"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."
-
-Then something of the old Larry flashed to the surface: the old, weak
-relaxing, the unmoral craving for another's solution of his problems.
-
-"Oh, it always has to be someone to help me out," he said.
-
-"You know about Maclin?"
-
-"Yes, Rivers."
-
-"Well, I did the turn for that damned scoundrel. I got the Forest out
-of his clutches."
-
-"Yes, you did when you got your eyes opened, Rivers."
-
-"They're open now, Northrup, but there always has to be--someone to
-help me out."
-
-"Rivers, where is your wife?" So suddenly did Northrup ask this that
-Larry started and gave a quick laugh.
-
-"She went to that cabin of hers--you know?"
-
-"Yes, I know."
-
-Both men were reliving old scenes.
-
-Then Larry spoke, but the laugh no longer rang in his tone:
-
-"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!"
-
-"That's right, never!" Northrup murmured. Then he added:
-
-"I'll come back with her, Rivers, soon. I'm going to stay at the inn
-for a time."
-
-Their hands clung together for a moment longer while one man
-relinquished, the other accepted. Then Northrup turned to the door.
-
-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!
-
-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!
-
-The sight of youth beaten is a terrible sight, and Mary-Clare, off her
-guard, alone and suffering, believed herself 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.
-
-Northrup did not speak--he could not. With gratitude he presently saw
-the dear head lift bravely, the trembling smile curl her cold lips.
-
-"You--have come!"
-
-"Yes, Mary-Clare."
-
-"How--did you know--where I was?"
-
-"I stopped at the yellow house. I saw your--I saw Larry--he told me
-where to find you."
-
-"He told you that?"
-
-The bravery flickered--but pride rallied.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes, Mary-Clare."
-
-"She takes care of her father in that way, now that she understands
-his need."
-
-"She would. That would be Noreen's way."
-
-"Yes, her way. And I am glad he came back to us. It might all have
-been so different."
-
-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.
-
-"Yes, Mary-Clare. Your old philosophy has proved itself."
-
-"I am glad you believe that."
-
-"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."
-
-"Oh! I am glad to hear you say that."
-
-Mary-Clare caught her breath.
-
-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.
-
-The small, common things crept into the conversation for a time, then
-Mary-Clare asked hesitatingly:
-
-"You--you are happy? And your book?"
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"You know I went across the water to do my part?" he asked quickly.
-
-"You would, of course. That call found such men as you. Larry went,
-too!" This came proudly.
-
-"Yes, and he paid more than I did, Mary-Clare."
-
-"He had more to pay--there was Maclin. Do you know about Maclin?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Yes, of course! And it would be like her to drop in at the
-psychological moment."
-
-"She set us to work!" Mary-Clare went on. "She is the most wonderful
-woman I ever knew."
-
-"She must be!"
-
-Slower and slower the two walked down the trail. They were clutching
-the few golden moments.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"They always leave it so for me," Mary-Clare whispered. "You see how
-everything is?"
-
-"Yes, I see, Mary-Clare."
-
-Northrup reached forth and drew the small clasped hands into his
-own!--then he bent and kissed them.
-
-"I see, I see."
-
-"And you will come in? Larry loves company."
-
-"Not to-night, Mary-Clare, but to-morrow. I am going to stay at the
-inn for a few days."
-
-"Oh! I am glad!" Almost the brave voice broke.
-
-"There is something else I see, my dear," Northrup ignored the poor
-disguise for a moment. "I see the meaning of _you_ as I never saw it
-before. You have never broken faith! That is above all else--it is all
-else."
-
-"I have tried." Upon the clasped hands tears fell, but Northrup caught
-the note of joy in her grieving voice.
-
-"You have carried on what your doctor entrusted to you."
-
-"Oh! thank you, bless you for saying that."
-
-"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.
-
-Alone, a little later, on the road, Northrup experienced that strange
-feeling of having left something back there in the yellow house.
-
-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.
-
-And then, as if hurrying to complete the old memory, Mary-Clare seemed
-to be following, following in the darkness.
-
-Northrup's lips closed grimly. He squared his shoulders to his task.
-
-He must go on, keeping his mind fixed upon the brighter 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."
-
-THE END
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's At the Crossroads, by Harriet T. Comstock
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of At the Crossroads, by Harriet T. Comstock
-
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-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: At the Crossroads
-
-Author: Harriet T. Comstock
-
-Illustrator: Walter De Maris
-
-Release Date: September 26, 2009 [EBook #30095]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE CROSSROADS ***
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-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
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-
-
-<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&rsquo;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'>
-&ldquo;<i>It might have seemed an empty house but for the appearance<br />
-of care and a curl of smoke from the chimney.</i>&rdquo;<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&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;NEW YORK</p>
-<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;'>DOUBLEDAY, PAGE &amp; 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 &amp; 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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;he
-had shoved him out of that category&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Oh! I confess,&rdquo; Northrup admitted, &ldquo;that my state of
-gloom is due more to the fact that I cannot write than to my
-sickness. I&rsquo;m done for!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Manly looked at his friend and scowled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rot!&rdquo; he ejaculated. Then added: &ldquo;The world would
-not perish if you didn&rsquo;t write again.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not thinking about the world,&rdquo; Northrup was intent
-upon the fire, &ldquo;it&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Manly continued to scowl. Had Northrup been watching
-him he might have gained encouragement, for Manly&rsquo;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>&ldquo;The trouble with you, old man,&rdquo; he presently said, &ldquo;is
-this: You&rsquo;ve been dangerously ill; you thought you were
-going to slip out, and so did I, and all the others. You&rsquo;re like
-the man who fell on the battlefield and thought his legs were
-shot off. You&rsquo;ve got to get up and learn to walk again.
-We&rsquo;re all suggesting the wrong thing to you. Go where
-people don&rsquo;t know, don&rsquo;t care a damn for you. Take to the
-road. That ink-slinging self that you are hankering after is
-just ahead. You&rsquo;ll overtake it, but it will never turn back
-for you&ndash;&ndash;the self that you are now.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Manly fidgeted. He hated to talk. Then Northrup said
-something that brought Manly to his feet&ndash;&ndash;and to several
-minutes of restless striding about the room.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Manly, while I was at my worst I couldn&rsquo;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&rsquo;s what has got us all and is shaking
-us into consciousness. We&rsquo;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&rsquo;t? Ideals, nations,
-folks!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup&rsquo;s face flushed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;See here, old man,&rdquo; Manly paused, set his legs wide apart
-as if to balance himself and pointed a finger at Northrup,
-&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to cut all this out and&ndash;&ndash;beat it! Whatever that
-damned thing is over there, it isn&rsquo;t our mess. It&rsquo;s the eruption
-of a volcano that&rsquo;s been bubbling and sizzling for years.
-The lava&rsquo;s flowing now, a hot black filth, but it&rsquo;s going to stop
-before it reaches us.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wonder, Manly, I wonder. It&rsquo;s more like a divining
-rod to me, finding souls.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Very well. Now I&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;t look back! I&rsquo;ve
-seen big cures come from letting go! I&rsquo;ll look after your
-mother and Kathryn.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The telephone here interrupted.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right! all right!&rdquo; snapped Manly into the receiver,
-&ldquo;set the operation for ten to-morrow and have the hair
-shaved from the side of her head.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then he turned back to Northrup as if disfiguring a woman
-were a matter of no importance.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;t get blinded. I&rsquo;m
-not saying that we don&rsquo;t each have a slit and should know it;
-but your job requires moving about and peering through
-other fellows&rsquo; slits, and lately, ever since that last book
-of yours, you&rsquo;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&rsquo;re no use to yourself or any one else.
-Beat it!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Queer things jog you into consciousness when you detach
-yourself from your moorings. A mountain-top, a baby&rsquo;s hold
-on your finger, when you&rsquo;re about to hurt it. A sunset, a
-woman&rsquo;s face; a moment when you realize your soul! You&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What jogged you, Manly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was daring. People rarely questioned Manly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It was seeing my soul!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Northrup, drop things. It is your friend speaking now.
-Go where the roar and rumble of what doesn&rsquo;t concern you
-haven&rsquo;t reached. Good-night.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span></div>
-<p>Northrup got up slowly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wonder if there is such a place?&rdquo; he muttered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;it was
-that kind of a door, a welcoming door&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s&ndash;&ndash;the door of the little
-yellow house was constantly admitting visitors&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I beg your pardon!&rdquo; stammered Northrup. &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;The inn is three miles down the south road; the lake is
-just beyond. Follow that. They serve dinner at the inn
-at one.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Now that he&rsquo;s gone, please go on. You got to where&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</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, &ldquo;Open All the Year.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The girl must take me for a fool, or worse!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the air!&rdquo; Northrup sniffed it. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m as hungry as a
-wolf, too. Hungry as I used to be twenty years ago.&rdquo;
-Northrup was twenty-seven. &ldquo;Lord! what a day.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s consciousness: &ldquo;... <i>or a woman&rsquo;s face!</i>&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I might be a thousand miles from home,&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s faces: While he was writing
-his last book&ndash;&ndash;the one that had lifted him from a low literary
-level and set him hopefully upon a higher&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;And her voice! Queer voice to be found here&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Northrup
-was keen about voices; they instantly affected him.
-&ldquo;Her voice had tones in it that vibrated. It might be the
-product of&ndash;&ndash;well, everything which it probably wasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I wonder if there is any habitation between that yellow
-house and the inn?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s voice called out:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The bolt&rsquo;s off.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>It would seem that doors were incidental barriers in King&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;the overshadowing piazza prevented
-that&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;no other word conveyed the impression
-of the vitality and alertness of the hair&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;You are Mr. Heathcote, I suppose?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup was subconsciously aware of the good old mahogany
-furniture; the well-kept appearance of everything.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve struck it right. Will you set?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Thanks.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup took the chair opposite the master of the inn.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My name is Northrup, Brace Northrup from New York.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Footing it?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;ve taken my time, been a week on the way and,
-incidentally, recovering from an illness.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Pausing or staying on?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup meant to say &ldquo;pausing&rdquo;; instead he found himself
-stating that he&rsquo;d like to stay on if he could be accommodated.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have to consult Aunt Polly as to that,&rdquo; said Heathcote.
-&ldquo;You see I&rsquo;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&rsquo;s got a wing like a hatchet.
-I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Polly, this is Mr. Northrup, from New York&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;was there
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span>
-lurking amusement in the tone?&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;He wants to stop on;
-what do you say? It&rsquo;s up to you and don&rsquo;t hesitate to speak
-your mind.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;If Mr. Northrup will take pot luck and <i>as is</i>, I think he
-can stay, brother.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; he ventured, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ll find me most grateful
-and adaptable.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, since that&rsquo;s settled,&rdquo; Aunt Polly seemed to pigeonhole
-her guest and label him as an individual, &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;t much choice. It&rsquo;s one o&rsquo; clock now, but I
-can put things back a spell and give you a chance to wash
-before dinner.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m in for it!&rdquo; he muttered, still clinging to the mood of
-unreality. &ldquo;I bet my last nickel that something&rsquo;s going to
-happen and by the lord Harry! I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</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: &ldquo;Better call sister &lsquo;Aunt Polly&rsquo; at once. If you don&rsquo;t
-suggest offishness, none will be suspected. Fall in line, I say!
-Dog&rsquo;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&rsquo;s one thing Polly can&rsquo;t abide, it&rsquo;s hitting a
-snag.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Devoutly Northrup vowed he&rsquo;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&rsquo;s eye, her guest&rsquo;s appreciation of
-it.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Food is just food to some folks,&rdquo; she confided, casting a
-slantwise glance at her brother, &ldquo;just what you might call
-fodder. But I allas have held that, viewed rightly, it feeds
-body <i>and</i> soul.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Heathcote chuckled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And right you are, Aunt Polly!&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s
-Forest for his health, fifty years before. He was twenty
-then; Aunt Polly eighteen.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Just like silly pioneers,&rdquo; Polly broke in, &ldquo;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,&rdquo; the dear old soul chuckled happily.
-&ldquo;Peter got himself made into a magistrate and that was
-something to work with. We made a home and friends, but
-the Forest isn&rsquo;t an easy proposition. It ain&rsquo;t changed much.
-It&rsquo;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&rsquo;s going to show what
-it&rsquo;s been cogitating about.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Is there a village?&rdquo; Northrup asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one seven miles from here,&rdquo; Heathcote replied;
-&ldquo;stores, post office, a Methodist minister&ndash;&ndash;necessary evils,
-you know,&rdquo; this came with a fat chuckle, &ldquo;but the Forest
-ain&rsquo;t anything but the Forest. Houses sorter dropped down
-carelesslike where someone&rsquo;s fancy fixed &rsquo;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&rsquo;s the Point
-where the folks live as can&rsquo;t get a footing elsewhere. There&rsquo;s
-always a Point or a Hollow, you know. And there&rsquo;s the
-Mines, back some miles to the south. Iron that used to be
-worked. Queer holdings!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter paused. Sustained conversation always made him
-pant and gave Polly an opportunity to edge in.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;As I was saying,&rdquo; she began calmly, &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;stuck.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;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>&ldquo;Then after the doctor did his stint and left his mark,
-Maclin came. We&rsquo;re studying over Maclin yet. He bought
-the Mines and kinder settled down on us all like a heavy air
-that ain&rsquo;t got any set of the wind.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly was picturesque. Peter eyed her admiringly
-and gave his comfortable chuckle.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Sister holds,&rdquo; he explained, &ldquo;that the Forest isn&rsquo;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&rsquo;s going to <i>make</i> the
-Forest is damaging evidence against him. He ain&rsquo;t no fool:
-then what is he? That&rsquo;s what we&rsquo;re conjuring with. Maclin
-ain&rsquo;t seeing himself in partnership with the Almighty,
-not he! One-man firm for Maclin.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, brother!&rdquo; Polly remarked while Heathcote was
-catching his breath, &ldquo;I say give a good doubt to a man
-till you have to give a bad one. We&rsquo;ve no right to judge
-Maclin yet, he&rsquo;s only just begun to have his say-so out loud,
-and put out feelers.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And now&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Peter put his plate down for the faithful
-Ginger to lap clean, and prepared to rise&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;and now, you&rsquo;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, &lsquo;staying on,&rsquo; I thought to myself,
-&lsquo;Now, which is he, a dispensation of Providence or just a
-plain passer-by?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup smiled grimly. This all fitted into his own
-vague mood of unreality.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t take me seriously,&rdquo; he said, going around
-the table to help his host. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m as ordinary as the majority.
-I like the looks of things here. I stop and enjoy
-myself, and pass on! That&rsquo;s the usual way, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Polly began gathering the dishes&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;it&rsquo;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&rsquo;s real queer, though,
-to have any one staying on this season of the year.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;he could have dealt with that phase&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I wonder who she is, and why she looks as she does?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup ceased to scoff at his fancy; he wooed it. He pictured
-the girl&rsquo;s hair loose from the rough cap&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;t
-going to be an ass, not if he could help it!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Strange voice!&rdquo; he thought on. &ldquo;It had <i>calls</i> in it.
-I <i>am</i> an ass!&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;He couldn&rsquo;t be for Maclin,&rdquo; Polly had said to Peter.
-&ldquo;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&rsquo;s a powerful sight
-surer than affidavits.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s trail, and from
-appearances Peter had confidence in his guest&rsquo;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&rsquo;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 &ldquo;Brace&rdquo; and that betokened
-surrender. Peter puffed and regarded his bandaged leg&ndash;&ndash;he
-had taken a few steps during the afternoon, leaning on
-Northrup&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Is there a church around here?&rdquo; Northrup asked at
-last.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There is,&rdquo; Heathcote replied, taking the pipe from his
-lips. &ldquo;It&rsquo;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&rsquo;t ever used
-now. Remember, Polly,&rdquo; Heathcote turned to his sister,
-&ldquo;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&rsquo;t catching!
-Yes, sir, the church is there, but it&rsquo;s deserted.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What is the bell ringing for?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Who is ringing the bell?&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s spectacles were significant.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No human hands are ringing the bell,&rdquo; she remarked
-quietly. &ldquo;I hold one notion, Peter another. <i>I</i> say the <i>bell</i>
-is ha&rsquo;nted; calling, calling folks, making them remember!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, Polly!&rdquo; Peter knocked the ashes from his pipe on to
-Ginger&rsquo;s back. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t get to criss-crossing and apple-sassing
-about that bell.&rdquo; He turned to Northrup and winked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Women is curious,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;When things are
-flat and lacking flavour they put in a pinch of this or that to
-spice them up. Fact is&ndash;&ndash;there&rsquo;s a change of wind and it ain&rsquo;t
-sot yet. While it&rsquo;s shifting around it hits, once so often, a
-chink in the belfry that&rsquo;s got to be mended some day. That&rsquo;s
-the sum and tee-total of Polly&rsquo;s ha&rsquo;nted tower.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then, as if the question escaped without his sanction and
-quite to his consternation, Northrup spoke again:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Who lives in the yellow house by the crossroads?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was not honest. Northrup knew <i>who</i>. What he
-wanted to say, but had not dared, was: &ldquo;Tell me about
-her.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I reckon you mean Mary-Clare.&rdquo; Aunt Polly shook a
-finger at Ginger. &ldquo;That dog,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;jest naturally
-hates the bell ringing. Animals sense more than men!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This slur escaped Peter, he was intent upon Northrup&rsquo;s
-question.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Seen that girl in the yellow house?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Great
-girl, Mary-Clare. Great girl.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I stopped there on my way here to ask directions. Rather
-unusual looking girl.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She is that!&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;Remember
-the night Mary-Clare was born, Polly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Of course Polly remembered. Northrup felt fully convinced
-that Polly knew everything in King&rsquo;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&rsquo;s past. Somehow the shallows Northrup was
-filling while he listened.</p>
-<p>Peter was in his element and drawled on:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The wildest storm you ever saw round these parts&ndash;&ndash;snow
-and gale; they don&rsquo;t usually hang together long, but they
-did that night. It was a regular night if there ever was one.
-Nobody stirring abroad &rsquo;less he had to. Ole Doc was out&ndash;&ndash;someone
-over the mine-way had got mussed up with the
-machinery. Ole Doc was a minister as well as a doctor.
-He&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t be sacrilegious, brother,&rdquo; Polly interjected.
-&ldquo;The story won&rsquo;t lose anything by holding to
-reverence.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; Heathcote chuckled, &ldquo;have it any way you
-want to. Ole Doc had us coming and going, that&rsquo;s what I&rsquo;m
-getting over. If he found he couldn&rsquo;t help folks to live, he
-plumped about and helped &rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s shack. Later we heard
-what had happened. Dan had come home drunk&ndash;&ndash;when he
-wasn&rsquo;t drunk you couldn&rsquo;t find a decenter man than Hamlin,
-but liquor made him quarrelsome. His wife was going to
-have a baby&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare, to be exact&ndash;&ndash;and when he came
-in with Jack Seaver, the mail-carrier, there was a row on concerning
-something Seaver hadn&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;never had any patience.
-Lamp turned over, set the shack on fire!&rdquo; Peter
-breathed hard.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo; Heathcote paused. The logs fell
-apart and the room grew hot. Northrup started as if
-roused from a dream.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir!&rdquo; Heathcote went on. &ldquo;Ole Doc found her there
-and, well, sir, he was doctor and minister for sure that night.
-There wasn&rsquo;t no choice as you might say. Mary-Clare
-was born in that snowdrift, and the mother died there! Ole
-Doc took &rsquo;em both home later.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; ejaculated Northrup. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the grimmest
-tale I ever listened to. What came next?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The funeral&ndash;&ndash;a double one, for they brought Hamlin&rsquo;s
-body back. Then the saving of Mary-Clare. Polly and I
-wanted her&ndash;&ndash;but ole Doc said he&rsquo;d have to keep an eye on her
-for a while&ndash;&ndash;she seemed sorter petering out for some time,
-and then when she took a turn and caught on, you couldn&rsquo;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&rsquo;d lost in women folks, and so he raised
-her and taught her. Good Lord, the education he pumped
-into that girl! He wouldn&rsquo;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?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Mary-Clare just naturally makes you laugh and cry
-at once,&rdquo; the old voice replied, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;
-Again Aunt Polly wiped her eyes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And brave and grateful,&rdquo; Heathcote took up his story,
-&ldquo;and terrible far-seeing. I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;d have
-trotted off to hell for him, or with him. She&rsquo;d have held her
-head high and laughed it off, too. I don&rsquo;t suppose any one
-on God&rsquo;s earth actually knows what the real Mary-Clare
-thinks about things on her own hook, but you bet she has
-ideas!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;So! that is your old doctor&rsquo;s place down by the crossroads?&rdquo;
-he said with a genuine sense of relief.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It was. Ole Doc died seven years back.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What became of his son&ndash;&ndash;you said he had a boy?&rdquo;
-Northrup was gathering the threads in his hands. Nothing
-must escape him; it was all grist.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! Larry came off and on the scene. There are them
-as think ole Doc didn&rsquo;t treat Larry fair and square. I don&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s
-marrying Mary-Clare! I allas will hold to that!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;the light playing
-on her knitting needles and spectacles, probably&ndash;&ndash;radiated.
-The crackling logs were like claps of thunder. Northrup
-pulled himself to an upright position as one does who resists
-hypnotism.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid you&rsquo;re tiring Brace, brother.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly&rsquo;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>&ldquo;On the other hand,&rdquo; Northrup gave a relieved laugh,
-&ldquo;I am intensely interested. You see, she looks so young,
-that Mrs.&ndash;&ndash;Mrs.&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rivers?&rdquo; suggested Heathcote refilling his pipe. &ldquo;Lord!
-I wonder if any one ever called Mary-Clare Mrs. Rivers before,
-Polly?&rdquo; Heathcote paused, then went on:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes; Mary-Clare holds her own and her boy-togs help
-the idea. Mary-Clare ain&rsquo;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&rsquo;t what you might say
-shrivelled, but they&rsquo;ve kept hid and they ain&rsquo;t ever on exhibition.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How ridiculous you <i>are</i>, brother.&rdquo; Aunt Polly was enjoying
-her brother&rsquo;s flights, but felt called upon to keep him
-in order.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! it&rsquo;s just a blamed amusing fancy of mine,&rdquo; Heathcote
-chuckled, &ldquo;to calculate &rsquo;bout Mary-Clare. You see,
-being a magistrate, I married Mary-Clare to Larry, and
-I&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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 &rsquo;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. &lsquo;What is it?&rsquo; she whispered,
-and I ain&rsquo;t never forgot her face. At first Larry didn&rsquo;t answer
-and he began shaking, like he had the chills.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You must tell me, Larry!&rsquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;&lsquo;You can hear me, can&rsquo;t you, Daddy?&rsquo; The flicker in
-ole Doc&rsquo;s eyes steadied. I reckon any call of Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-could halt him, short of the other side of Jordan. &lsquo;Then,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span>
-dearie Dad, listen.&rsquo; Just like that she said it. I remember
-every word. &lsquo;You want me to marry Larry&ndash;&ndash;now? It
-would make you&ndash;&ndash;happy?&rsquo; The steady look seemed to
-kinder freeze. I called it a listening look more than an
-understanding one. I&rsquo;ll allas hold to that, but God knows
-there warn&rsquo;t much time to calculate. Peneluna began
-acting up but Mary-Clare set her aside.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;All right, Daddy darling!&rsquo; she whispered, and with that
-she stood up and said to me, &lsquo;You marry us at once! Come
-close so that he can see and know!&rsquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Things go here in the Forest that don&rsquo;t go elsewhere; I
-married them two because I couldn&rsquo;t help it&ndash;&ndash;something
-drew me on. And then just when I got to the end, ole
-Doc rose up like he was lifted&ndash;&ndash;he stared at what was passing;
-tried to say something, and sank back smiling&ndash;&ndash;dead!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Satisfied, <i>I</i> say!&rdquo; broke in Aunt Polly. &ldquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maybe!&rdquo; sighed Peter. &ldquo;Maybe. But he took big
-chances even for a dying man. I couldn&rsquo;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. &rsquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re downright silly, Peter Heathcote&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Polly tossed
-her knitting aside and shifted the pillows of the couch&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;making
-Mary-Clare out the way you do when she&rsquo;s ordinary
-enough and doing her life tasks same as other
-folks.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;How has it worked out?&rdquo; Northrup heard the words as
-if another spoke them.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess, friend, that&rsquo;s what no one actually knows.&rdquo;
-Peter pulled on his pipe. &ldquo;Larry is on and off. Maclin, over
-to the mines, seems to do the ordering of Larry&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;She don&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;t rightfully settled. Larry was ordered off,
-sudden, by Maclin, but take it from me, when Larry comes
-back he&rsquo;ll get his innings. Larry isn&rsquo;t what you could call
-a sticker, but he gets there all the same. He ain&rsquo;t going to
-let any woman go too far with him. That&rsquo;s where Larry
-comes out strong&ndash;&ndash;with women.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know as you ought to talk so free, brother.&rdquo;
-Polly looked dubious.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;In the meantime,&rdquo; Northrup said quietly, &ldquo;the little
-wife lives alone in the yellow house, waiting?&rdquo; He hadn&rsquo;t
-heard Polly&rsquo;s caution.</p>
-<p>He was thinking of Mary-Clare&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Not alone, as you might say,&rdquo; Heathcote&rsquo;s voice drawled.
-&ldquo;There&rsquo;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&rsquo;s going on six, ain&rsquo;t that it, Polly?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Her little girl?&rdquo; he asked slowly, and Aunt Polly raised
-her eyes to his face. She looked troubled, vaguely uneasy.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yep!&rdquo; Peter rose stiffly. He wanted to go to bed.
-&ldquo;Noreen&rsquo;s the saving from the litter. How many was
-there, Polly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Polly got upon her feet, the trouble-look growing in her
-eyes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Noreen had a twin as was dead,&rdquo; she said tenderly.
-&ldquo;Then the last one lived two hours&ndash;&ndash;that&rsquo;s all, brother.&rdquo;
-She walked to the window. &ldquo;The storm is setting this
-way,&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;Just listen to that lake acting up as if
-it was the ocean.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;But why?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;I am going to write!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;his restored power! He was
-safe; everything was safe. The world had righted itself
-at last. It wasn&rsquo;t the woman with the dun-coloured ending
-to her story that mattered; it was the story.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ll turn in,&rdquo; he said, stifling a yawn, &ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t hurry about breakfast,&rdquo; Aunt Polly said gently.
-&ldquo;Breakfast is only a starter, I always hold. It&rsquo;s like kindlings
-to start the big logs. Sleep well, and God bless you!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>She smiled up at her guest as if he were an old friend&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;ll see how far I&rsquo;ve got on my way,
-searching for my lost health. I&rsquo;m really in great shape. Manly
-was right: I had to let go! I&rsquo;m struggling now between two
-courses. Apparently I was in a blue funk; all I needed was to find
-it out. Well, I&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-heaven. It&rsquo;s the handling of the ragged old things. I can
-make rather a big story out of the ingredients at hand.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;softly; he had overtaken himself!</p>
-<p>Three days later a telegram came from Mrs. Northrup.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s &ldquo;coming
-out,&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;he was decidedly up at
-the time of Northrup&rsquo;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&rsquo;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 &ldquo;cut and run&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;that was the way Kathryn <i>thought</i> of it.
-Aloud she said, with that ravishing look of hers:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How very Brace-like! Getting material and colour I
-suppose he calls it. I wish&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;this with a tender, yearning
-smile&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;I wish, for your sake and mine, dear, that his genius
-ran in another direction, stocks or banking&ndash;&ndash;anything with
-an office. It is so worrying, this trick of his of hunting plots.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I only hope that he can write again,&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Where do you think he&rsquo;ll go?&rdquo; Kathryn asked.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll tell us when he comes home.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;t
-put them under the X-ray; you couldn&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;here.&rdquo;
-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>&ldquo;I cannot help worrying about Brace, more for his mother&rsquo;s
-sake than his.&rdquo; Kathryn looked very sweet and womanly,
-&ldquo;He has been so ill and the letter his mother has just received
-<i>is</i> disturbing.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Here Kathryn quoted it and Manly grinned.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; he said, shaking a bottle of pills. &ldquo;It
-does a human creature no end of good to run away at times.
-I often wonder why more of us don&rsquo;t do it and come back
-keener and better.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Some of us have duties.&rdquo; Kathryn looked noble and
-self-sacrificing.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;it <i>is</i> a job in his case. You wouldn&rsquo;t expect a travelling
-salesman to hang around his shop all the time, would
-you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn had never had any experience with travelling
-salesmen&ndash;&ndash;she wasn&rsquo;t clear as to their mission in life. So she
-said doubtfully:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I suppose not.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Certainly not! An office man is one thing; a professional
-man, another; and these wandering Johnnies, like Northrup,
-still another breed. He&rsquo;s been starving his scent&ndash;&ndash;that&rsquo;s
-what I told him. Too much <i>woman</i> in his&ndash;&ndash;and I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;ve got to have a lot of faith
-or you&rsquo;re going to break your man.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn&rsquo;s eyes contracted, then she laughed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How charming you are, Doctor Manly, when you&rsquo;re
-making talk. Are those pills bitter?&rdquo; Kathryn reached out
-for them. &ldquo;Not that I mind, but I hate to be taken by surprise.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re as bitter as&ndash;&ndash;well, they&rsquo;re quinine. You need
-toning up.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You think I need a change?&rdquo; The tone was pensive.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Change?&rdquo; Manly had a sense of humour. &ldquo;Well, yes, I
-do. Go to bed early. Cut out rich food; you&rsquo;ll be fat at
-forty if you don&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Which one, Doctor Manly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The one who is on her feet most.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>And so, while Northrup settled down in King&rsquo;s Forest, and
-his mother fancied him travelling far, Kathryn set her pretty
-lips close and jotted down the address of Helen Northrup&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;she
-was really in a very messy, caked state&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I guess you want the woods, Motherly?&rdquo; The small up-turned
-face made the young mother&rsquo;s heart beat quicker;
-the tie was strong between them.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I do, Noreen. It has been ten whole days since I had
-them.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, Motherly, why don&rsquo;t you go?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And leave my baby alone?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll get Jan-an to come!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! you blessed!&rdquo; Mary-Clare bent and kissed the worshipping
-face. &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;how
-will that do?&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Noreen sweetly acquiesced. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come to the&ndash;&ndash;the&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;
-she waited for the word.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yawning Gap,&rdquo; suggested the mother, reverting to a
-dearly loved romance.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;ll come to the Yawning Gap and I&rsquo;ll give the
-call.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll call back: <i>Oh! wow!&ndash;&ndash;Oh! wo!</i>&rdquo; The musical
-voice rose like a flute and Noreen danced about.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll answer: <i>wo wow!&ndash;&ndash;oh!</i>&rdquo; The piping tones were
-also flute-like, an echo of the mother&rsquo;s.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And then, down will fall the drawbridge with a mighty
-clatter.&rdquo; Mary-Clare looked majestic even in her muddy
-trousers as she portrayed the action. &ldquo;And over the Gap
-will come the Princess Light-of-my-Heart with her message.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Ah! yes, Motherly. It will be such fun. But if Jan-an
-can come here to stay, then what?&rdquo; the voice faltered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Both ways are beautiful ways, Motherly. I don&rsquo;t know
-which is bestest.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare had seen to
-that!&ndash;&ndash;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 &ldquo;Place,&rdquo; as she
-whimsically called it&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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 &ldquo;Place&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;she could,
-with Larry away&ndash;&ndash;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 &ldquo;use her woman brain,&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s lonely life in
-King&rsquo;s Forest; for Larry&rsquo;s long absences from home; for the
-lines that grew between the old doctor&rsquo;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&rsquo;s mother, so the child believed, had not kept the
-code&ndash;&ndash;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 &ldquo;woman brain,&rdquo; but when
-in the end you always came to the conclusion that the doctor&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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 &ldquo;just going to have a child,&rdquo; or
-&ldquo;getting over having one.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>He had gone away tolerant, but with a warning: &ldquo;A man
-isn&rsquo;t going to stand too much!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s death, Larry&rsquo;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&rsquo;s self-control&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;-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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;she was Larry&rsquo;s, too. Through the
-years Mary-Clare had remembered that almost fiercely as
-she combated the child&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s easy-going
-tones. Then Noreen had advanced step by step, her
-eyes wide and alert.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Kiss me!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;weighing the cost of
-rebellion. That gesture had become a driving force in
-Mary-Clare&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;the meaning of
-what had gone into its making Mary-Clare could not understand&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s
-shrill voice broke the calm:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Motherly, Motherly, he&rsquo;s come: he&rsquo;s come home!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m coming, Noreen. I&rsquo;m coming!&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s hand reassured her. It was
-like waking from a painful dream and finding everything
-safe and the dream gone.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I was just coming down the path with Jan-an, Motherly,
-when I saw him going in the house.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Daddy, dear?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Motherly, Daddy. He left a bag in the house;
-looked all around and then came out. I was &rsquo;fraid he was
-coming to you, so I ran and ran, but Jan-an said she&rsquo;d stay
-and fix him if he did.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Noreen!&rdquo; The tone was stern and commanding.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, Motherly, Jan-an said that, but maybe she was
-just funny.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Of course. Just funny. We must always remember,
-Noreen, that poor Jan-an is just funny.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Motherly.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;she seemed glad to go away, but not sure that
-she ought to go; Mary-Clare laughed her into good humour.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I jes don&rsquo;t like the feelings I have,&rdquo; the girl reiterated;
-&ldquo;I&rsquo;m creepy.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare packed a bag of food for her and patted her
-shoulder.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Come to-morrow,&rdquo; she said, and then, after a moment&rsquo;s
-hesitation, she kissed the yearning, vacant face. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
-going to the Point, Jan-an?&rdquo; she asked, and the girl nodded.</p>
-<p>Noreen, too, had to be petted into a calmer state&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;It was a wonderful wind, Noreen, quite magical. It
-came from between the south and the east&ndash;&ndash;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Touching Jan-an?&rdquo; Noreen suggested sleepily.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I love the wild wind!&rdquo; Noreen pressed closer. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
-not afraid of it. And it found Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter?&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;To be sure. It made Aunt Polly seem as grand and big
-as she really is&ndash;&ndash;only blind folks cannot see&ndash;&ndash;and it made all
-the blind folks <i>see her</i> for a minute. And it made Uncle
-Peter&ndash;&ndash;no; it left Uncle Peter as he is!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I like that&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;drowsily&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;and it made us see the man that
-went to the inn?&rdquo; Noreen lifted her head, suddenly alert.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What made you think of him, Noreen?&rdquo; Mary-Clare
-stopped swaying to and fro.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;t</i>. Really we only think we see him.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, perhaps that&rsquo;s true, childie. He&rsquo;s something good,
-I hope. Now shut your eyes like a dearie, and Mother will
-rock and sing.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare fixed her eyes on her child&rsquo;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&rsquo;s presence; his name was familiar&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;You lit and lock, Motherly, and I&rsquo;ll luck my lum, just
-for to-night, and lall aleep.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, beloved; you may, just for to-night, suck the
-little thumb, and fall asleep while Mother rocks.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s chamber;
-later it had been hers&ndash;&ndash;and Larry&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;it was not easy, the task she had set for herself,
-and after Larry&rsquo;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&rsquo;s influence&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s first effect
-upon him was to make him genial.</p>
-<p>He had meant to resent Mary-Clare&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s was fraught with danger&ndash;&ndash;did she not know? Success
-did not make him understanding and considerate; it
-made him boyishly dominant and demanding.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, old girl&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Rivers had slammed the door after him&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;sitting
-up for me, eh? Sorry; but when I didn&rsquo;t find you
-here, I had to get over and see Maclin. Devilish important,
-big pull I&rsquo;ve made this time. We&rsquo;ll have a spree&ndash;&ndash;go to the
-city, if you like&ndash;&ndash;have a real bat.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare did not have time to move or speak; Larry was
-crushing her against him and kissing her face&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Mad, eh?&rdquo; he asked with a suggestion of triumph in his
-voice. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;in short,
-she did not care!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What are you laughing at?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not laughing, Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What are you smiling at?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My smile is my own, Larry; when I laugh it&rsquo;s different.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Trying to be smart, eh? I should think when your
-husband&rsquo;s been away months and has just got back, you&rsquo;d
-meet him with something besides a grin.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was some justice in this and Mary-Clare said slowly:
-&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, Larry. I really was only thinking.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&rsquo;t
-last for ever, and there was no baby coming at the moment.
-He could not make things out.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;See here,&rdquo; he said rather gropingly, &ldquo;you are not holding
-a grouch, are you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What then?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>For a moment Mary-Clare shrank. She weakly wanted to
-put off the big moment; dared not face it.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s late, Larry. You are tired.&rdquo; She got that far when
-she affrightedly remembered the bedroom upstairs and paused.
-She had arranged it for Larry&ndash;&ndash;there must be an explanation
-of that.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Late be hanged!&rdquo; Larry stretched his legs out and
-plunged his hands in his pockets. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to get at the
-bottom of this to-night. You understand?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, Larry.&rdquo; Mary-Clare sank back in her chair&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve never been the same since the last baby came.&rdquo;
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span>
-Larry was speaking in an injured, harsh tone. &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;t matter if you had
-horse sense and knew when to slam the covers on the rot.
-But you try to live &rsquo;em and then the devil is to pay. Dad
-spoiled you. He let you run away with yourself. But
-the time&rsquo;s come&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The long speech in the face of Mary-Clare&rsquo;s wondering,
-amazed eyes, brought Larry to a panting pause.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What you got a husband for, anyway, that&rsquo;s what I am
-asking you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;she only heard his
-words.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;By God! Mary-Clare, what&rsquo;s up? Have you counted
-the cost of carrying on as you are doing? What am I up
-against?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Larry, I&rsquo;ve counted the cost to me and Noreen and
-you. I&rsquo;m afraid this is what we are all up against.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, what&rsquo;s the sum total?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;You see, Larry, I&rsquo;ve got to tell you how it is, in my own
-way,&rdquo; Mary-Clare was speaking. &ldquo;I know my way makes
-you angry, but please be patient, for if I tried any other way
-it would hurt more.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Fire away!&rdquo; Larry nobly suppressed a yawn. Had
-Mary-Clare said simply, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t love you any more,&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s like this, Larry: I suppose life is a muddle for everyone
-and we all do have to learn as we go on&ndash;&ndash;nothing can
-keep us from that, not even marriage, can it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>No reply came to this.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;is
-lost. That is the way it has been with me.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Gee!&rdquo; Larry shrugged his shoulders.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Larry, you <i>must</i> try to understand!&rdquo; Mary-Clare was
-growing desperate.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then, try to talk American.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I am, Larry. <i>My</i> American. That&rsquo;s the trouble&ndash;&ndash;there
-is more than <i>one</i> kind, you know. Larry, it was all wrong,
-my marrying you even for dear Dad&rsquo;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!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This, at least, was comprehensible.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, you <i>did</i> marry me, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; Larry flung out.
-&ldquo;You&rsquo;re my wife, aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; Correcting mistakes was
-not in Larry&rsquo;s plan of life.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&ndash;&ndash;why, yes, I am, Larry, but a wife means more than one
-thing, doesn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; This came hopelessly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Not to me. What&rsquo;s your idea?&rdquo; Larry was relieved at
-having the conversation run along lines that he could handle
-with some degree of common sense.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, Larry, marriage means a good many things to me.
-It means being kind and making a good home&ndash;&ndash;a real home,
-not just a place to come to. It means standing by each other,
-even if you can&rsquo;t have everything!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;
-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&rsquo;s outbursts were like Noreen&rsquo;s &ldquo;dressing up&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;and
-bore about the same relation in Larry&rsquo;s mind.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;See here,&rdquo; he said suddenly, fixing his eyes on Mary-Clare&ndash;&ndash;when
-Larry asserted himself he always glared&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;just
-what in thunder do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The simplicity of the question demanded a crude reply.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to have any more children.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Oh! you aren&rsquo;t, eh?&rdquo; Larry spoke slowly. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve
-decided, have you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I know what children mean to you, Larry; I know what
-you mean by&ndash;&ndash;love&ndash;&ndash;yes: I&rsquo;ve decided!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You wedged your way into my father&rsquo;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&rsquo;re going to end the job in your own way, eh?</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Name the one particular way in which you&rsquo;re not going
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span>
-to break your vows,&rdquo; Larry asked, and sneered. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s
-your nice little plan?&rdquo; He got up and walked about. &ldquo;I
-suppose you have cut and dried some little compromise.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! Larry, I wish you could be a little kind; a little
-understanding.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Wish I could think as you think; that&rsquo;s what you mean.
-Well, by God, I&rsquo;m a man and your husband and I&rsquo;m going
-to stand on my rights. You can&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I will not have any more children! I&rsquo;ll do everything
-I can, Larry; make the home a real home. Noreen and I will
-love you. We&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;ought to carry out your father&rsquo;s work.
-We could! There are other things in marriage, Larry, but
-just&ndash;&ndash;the one.&rdquo; Breathlessly Mary-Clare came to a pause,
-but Larry&rsquo;s amused look drove her on. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not the kind of
-a woman, Larry, that can live a lie!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>A tone of horror shook Mary-Clare&rsquo;s voice; she choked and
-Larry came closer, his lips were smiling.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What in thunder!&rdquo; he muttered. Then: &ldquo;You plan to
-have us live on here in this house; you and I, a man and
-woman&ndash;&ndash;and&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;!&rdquo; Larry stopped short, then laughed.
-&ldquo;A hell of a home that would be, all right!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare gazed dully at him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; she whispered, and her lips grew deadly white,
-&ldquo;I do not know what to do.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do? You&rsquo;ll forget it!&rdquo; thundered Larry. &ldquo;And pretty
-damned quick, too!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you answer?&rdquo; Larry laid a hand upon Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-shoulder. &ldquo;Getting sleepy? Come on, then, we&rsquo;ll
-have this out to-morrow.&rdquo; He looked toward the door
-behind which stood Noreen&rsquo;s cot and that other one beside it.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve fixed the room upstairs for you, Larry.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s face, that convinced Larry he had
-come to the point of conquest or defeat.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The devil you have!&rdquo; was what he said to gain time.</p>
-<p>For a moment he again contemplated force&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;or was it his strength&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Mary-Clare, you&rsquo;ve got me guessing&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;there was almost
-surrender in the tone&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;a woman like you doesn&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll try to understand.&rdquo;</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.
-&ldquo;Oh! I hoped you would try, Larry,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I know
-I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, you&rsquo;re talking sense, Mary-Clare,&rdquo; Larry spoke
-boyishly. &ldquo;Just over-tired, I guess you were; seeing things
-in the dark. Men know the world better than women;
-that&rsquo;s why some things are <i>as</i> they are. I&rsquo;m not going to
-press you, Mary-Clare, I&rsquo;m going to try and help you. You
-<i>are</i> my wife, aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, oh! yes, Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m a man and you&rsquo;re a woman.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s so, Larry.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Marriage was meant for one thing between man and
-woman!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This came out triumphantly. Then Mary-Clare threw
-back her head and spiritually retreated to her vantage of
-safety.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, it wasn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; she said, taking to her own hard-won
-trail desperately. &ldquo;No, it wasn&rsquo;t! I cannot accept that
-Larry&ndash;&ndash;why, I have seen where such reasoning would lead.
-I saw the night our last baby came&ndash;&ndash;and went. I&rsquo;d grow old
-and broken&ndash;&ndash;you&rsquo;d hate me; there would be children&ndash;&ndash;many
-of them, poor, sad little things&ndash;&ndash;looking at me with dreadful
-eyes, accusing me. If marriage means only one thing&ndash;&ndash;it
-means that to me and you, and no woman has the right to&ndash;&ndash;to
-become like that.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Wanting to defy the laws of God, eh?&rdquo; Larry grew virtuous.
-&ldquo;We all grow old, don&rsquo;t we? Men work for women;
-women do their share. Children are natural, ain&rsquo;t they?
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
-What&rsquo;s the institution of marriage for, anyway?&rdquo; And now
-Larry&rsquo;s mouth was again hardening.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Larry, oh! Larry, please don&rsquo;t make me laugh! If I
-should laugh there would never be any hope of our getting
-together.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;it was leaving Larry to flounder in his weak
-will, and he abandoned his futile tactics.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s that man at the inn?&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;recalling with absurd
-clearness Northrup&rsquo;s look and tone.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; she said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a lie. How long has he been here, snooping
-around?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t the slightest idea, Larry.&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;See here, Mary-Clare, I&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;and taking what lies about in
-order to pass the time. I haven&rsquo;t lived in the world for nothing,
-Mary-Clare. Now lay this along with the other woman-thoughts
-you&rsquo;re so fond of. I&rsquo;m going upstairs, for I&rsquo;m tired
-and all-fired disgusted, but remember, what I can&rsquo;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&rsquo;m going to leave all the doors and windows
-open. I&rsquo;m going to give you your head, but I&rsquo;ll keep hold of
-the reins.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Oh, Larry,&rdquo; she managed her voice at last, &ldquo;I never knew
-that anything so dreadfully wrong could be made of nothing.
-You&rsquo;ve created a terrible something, and I wonder if you
-know it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s enough!&rdquo; Larry strode toward the stairway.
-&ldquo;Your husband&rsquo;s no fool, my girl, and the cheap, little, old
-tricks are plain enough to him.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s writing a book!&rdquo; Aunt Polly confided to Peter.
-&ldquo;But he doesn&rsquo;t want anything said about it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He needn&rsquo;t get scared. I like him too well to let on and
-I reckon one thing&rsquo;s as good as another to tell <i>us</i>. I lay my
-last dollar, Polly, on this: he&rsquo;s after Maclin; not with him.
-I&rsquo;m thinking the Forest will get a shake-up some day and
-I&rsquo;m willing to bide my time. Writing a book! Him, a full-blooded
-young feller, writing a book. Gosh! Why don&rsquo;t
-he take to knitting?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Until further notice,&rdquo; he wrote to Manly, &ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;ve found myself,
-Manly. I&rsquo;m getting acquainted, and working like the devil.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Manly read the letter, grinned, and put it in a box marked
-&ldquo;Confidential, but unimportant.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then he leaned back in his chair, and before he relegated
-Northrup to &ldquo;unimportant,&rdquo; gave him two or three thoughts.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The writing bug has got him, root and branch. He&rsquo;s
-burrowed in his hole and wants the earth to tumble in over
-him. Talk about letting sleeping dogs lie. Lord! they&rsquo;re
-nothing to the animals of Northrup&rsquo;s type. And some darn
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span>
-fools&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Manly was thinking of Kathryn&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;go nosing around
-and yapping at the creatures&rsquo; heels and feel hurt when they
-turn and snap.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;they were empty but had held a suggestion
-of things about to occur.</p>
-<p>And then waking suddenly, Northrup understood&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s Forest that was
-bubbling to the surface? Was his coming the one thing
-needed to&ndash;&ndash;to&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;</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&ndash;&ndash;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 &ldquo;hearings.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-habit to seek the front porch for exercise and fresh air. Sometimes
-the window nearest to Aunt Polly&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s couch was open a little higher
-than usual and the words that greeted Northrup were:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;<i>I</i> call it muggy, Mr. Maclin. That&rsquo;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&rsquo;t no draught.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;To tell the truth,&rdquo; he said, as if taking Aunt Polly into
-his intimate confidence, &ldquo;I was looking at the Point. A
-darned dirty bit of ground with all those squatters on it.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t ever called &rsquo;em that, Mr. Maclin. They&rsquo;re
-folks with nowhere else to live.&rdquo; Aunt Polly clicked her
-needles.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re a dirty, lazy lot. I can&rsquo;t get &rsquo;em to work over
-at the mines, do what I will.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;As to that, Mr. Maclin, folks as are mostly drunk on bad
-whiskey can&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a real idealist, Miss Heathcote; most ladies are,
-some men are, too, until they have to handle the ugly facts
-of life.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter was meant by &ldquo;some men,&rdquo; Northrup suspected.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, speaking of the whiskey, Miss Heathcote, it&rsquo;s as
-good over at my place as the men can afford, and better, too.
-I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;s better to keep it under control.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s real human of you, Mr. Maclin, but I wish to goodness
-you&rsquo;d keep the men under control after they&rsquo;ve had
-their drink. They certainly do make a mess of the peace
-and happiness of others while they&rsquo;re indulging in their
-rights.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>A silence, then Maclin started again. &ldquo;Truth is, Miss
-Heathcote, the men &rsquo;round here are shucks, and I&rsquo;m keeping
-my eye open for the real interest of King&rsquo;s Forest, not the
-sentimental interest. Now, that Point&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;re all running to seed down here,
-Miss Heathcote, and that&rsquo;s a fact. I don&rsquo;t mind telling you,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span>
-you&rsquo;re a woman of a thousand and can see what&rsquo;s what, I
-<i>am</i> inventing some pretty clever things down at my place
-and it wouldn&rsquo;t be safe to let on until they&rsquo;re perfected, and
-I do want good workers, not loafers or snoopers, and I <i>do</i>
-want that Point. It&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;the Pointers, I mean.
-You and your brother ought to be keen enough to work with
-me, not against me. Sentiment oughtn&rsquo;t to go too far where
-a lot of lazy beggars are concerned.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The clicking of the needles was the only sound after Maclin&rsquo;s
-long speech; he was waiting and breathing quicker.
-Northrup could hear the deep breathing.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How do you feel about it, Miss Heathcote?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! I don&rsquo;t let my feelings get the better of me till I
-know what&rsquo;s stirring them.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup stifled a laugh, but Maclin, feeling secure,
-laughed loudly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s like asking me, Mr. Maclin, to get stirred up and set
-going by a pig in a poke.&rdquo; Aunt Polly&rsquo;s voice was thin and
-sharp. &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Is her title clear to that land?&rdquo; Maclin did not laugh
-now, Northrup noted that.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Land! Mr. Maclin, anything as high-sounding as a title
-tacked on to the Point is real ridiculous! But if the title
-ain&rsquo;t clear, I guess brother Peter can make it so. Peter being
-magistrate comes in handy.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Miss Heathcote&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;from his tones Northrup judged that
-Maclin was coming into the open&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;Miss Heathcote, the title
-of the Point isn&rsquo;t a clear one. I&rsquo;ve made it my business to
-find out. Now I&rsquo;m going to prove my friendliness&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;m not
-going to push what I know, I&rsquo;ll take all the risks myself. I&rsquo;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?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly slipped from the sofa. Northrup heard her, and
-imagined the look on her face.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, Mr. Maclin, I won&rsquo;t! When the occasion rises up,
-I&rsquo;ll advise Mary-Clare against pigs in pokes and I&rsquo;ll advise
-the squatters to squat on!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup again had difficulty in smothering his laugh, but
-Maclin&rsquo;s next move surprised and sobered him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that place under the stairs, Miss Heathcote, where
-the bar of the old inn used to be?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, yes!&rdquo; It was an ominous sign when Aunt Polly
-addressed any one as &ldquo;sir.&rdquo; &ldquo;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&rsquo;t that
-thought ever haunt you, Mr. Maclin, over at the Cosey
-Bar?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>They were sparring, these two.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;d do it right and proper and have a
-what&rsquo;s what and make money.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But you&rsquo;re not running this inn, sir.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Certainly I&rsquo;m not <i>now</i>, that&rsquo;s plain enough, or I&rsquo;d make
-King&rsquo;s Forest sit up and take notice. Well, well, Miss
-Heathcote, just talk over with your brother what I&rsquo;ve
-said to you. A man looks at some things different from a
-woman. Good-bye, ma&rsquo;am, good-bye. Looks as if it were
-clearing.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>As Maclin came upon the piazza he stopped short at the
-sight of Northrup by the open window. He wasn&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Good afternoon,&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;Looks more like clearing,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span>
-doesn&rsquo;t it? Stranger in these parts? I&rsquo;ve heard of you;
-haven&rsquo;t had the pleasure of meeting you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup regarded Maclin coolly as one man does another
-when there is no apparent reason why he should not.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The clouds <i>do</i> seem lifting. No, I&rsquo;m not what you might
-call a stranger in King&rsquo;s Forest. Some lake, isn&rsquo;t it, and good
-woodland?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;One of the family, eh? Happy to meet you.&rdquo; Maclin
-offered a broad, heavy hand. Northrup took it and smiled
-cordially without speaking. &ldquo;Staying on some time?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t decided exactly.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Come over to the mines and look around. Nothing there
-as yet but a dump heap, so to speak, but I&rsquo;m working out a big
-proposition and while I have to go slow and keep somewhat
-under cover for a time&ndash;&ndash;I don&rsquo;t mind showing what <i>can</i> be
-shown.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; Northrup nodded, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll get over if I find time.
-I&rsquo;m here on business myself and am rather busy in a slow,
-lazy fashion, but I&rsquo;ll not forget.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin put on his hat and turned away. Northrup got an
-unpleasant impression of the man&rsquo;s head in the back. It
-was flat and his neck met it in flabby folds that wrinkled
-under certain emotions as other men&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I hope you kept your ears open,&rdquo; she exclaimed when
-she turned to Northrup.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I did, Aunt Polly! Come, sit down and let&rsquo;s talk it
-over.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Polly obeyed at once and let restraint drop.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That man has a real terrible effect on me, son. He&rsquo;s
-like acid sorter creeping in. I don&rsquo;t suppose he could do
-what he hints&ndash;&ndash;but his hints just naturally make me anxious.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He cannot get a hold on you, Aunt Polly. Surely your
-brother is more than a match for any one like Maclin.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;When it comes to that, son, Peter can fight his own in
-the open, but he ain&rsquo;t any hand to sense danger in the dark
-till it&rsquo;s too late. Peter never can believe a fellow man is
-doing him a bad turn till he&rsquo;s bowled over. But then,&rdquo; she
-ran on plaintively, &ldquo;it ain&rsquo;t just us&ndash;&ndash;Peter, Mary-Clare,
-and me&ndash;&ndash;it&rsquo;s them folks down on the Point,&rdquo; the old face
-quivered touchingly. &ldquo;The old doctor used to say it was
-God&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-good round it, and you can fasten boats to it and it&rsquo;s a real
-safe place for old folks and children. There&rsquo;s always drifting
-creatures wherever you may be, son, and King&rsquo;s Forest
-has &rsquo;em, but the old doctor held as they ought to have some
-place to move in, if we let &rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;they
-just about adore her, and she wouldn&rsquo;t sell them out,
-not for bread and butter for her very own! It&rsquo;s the title as
-worries Peter and me, son. We&rsquo;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?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup looked interested.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to find out,&rdquo; he said presently, feeling strangely
-as if he had become part and parcel of the matter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
-going to find out and you mustn&rsquo;t worry any more, Aunt
-Polly. We&rsquo;ll try Maclin at his own game and go him one
-better. He cannot account for me, I&rsquo;m making him uneasy.
-Now you help the thing along by just squatting&ndash;&ndash;that&rsquo;s
-a good phrase of yours; one can accomplish much by
-just squatting on his holdings.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>And now that tricky imagination of Northrup&rsquo;s pictured
-Mary-Clare in the thick of it and carrying out the old doctor&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; Northrup spoke aloud; &ldquo;could it be possible?&rdquo;
-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 r&ocirc;le 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&ndash;&ndash;he bowed to the inevitable
-with a keen desire for co&ouml;peration.</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>&ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; he ejaculated. &ldquo;And who are you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Another name become a person! Northrup smiled. They
-were all materializing; the names, the stories.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I see. Well?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was a pause. The girl was studying him slowly, almost
-painfully, but she did not speak.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Where do you live, Jan-an?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This made talk and filled an uncomfortable pause.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;One place and another. I was left.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Left?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yep. Left on the town. Folks take me in turn-about.
-I just jog along. I&rsquo;m staying over to the Point now. Next
-I&rsquo;m going to Aunt Polly. I chooses, I do. I likes to jog
-along.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The girl was inclined to be friendly and she was amusing.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Did you hear the bell ring the night you came&ndash;&ndash;the ha&rsquo;nt
-bell?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I certainly did.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Twas a warning, and then here <i>you</i> are! Generally
-warnings mean bad things, but Aunt Polly says you&rsquo;re right
-enough and generally they ain&rsquo;t when they&rsquo;re young.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Who are not, Jan-an?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Men. When they get old, like Uncle Peter, they meller
-or&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Or what?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Naturally drop off.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed. The sound disturbed the girl and she
-scowled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s terrible to have folks think you&rsquo;re a fool to be laughed
-at,&rdquo; she muttered. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t get things over.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What do you want to get over, Jan-an?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup was becoming interested. If straws show the
-wind&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Yer feelin&rsquo;s,&rdquo; the girl answered simply. &ldquo;When you don&rsquo;
-understand like most do, yer feelin&rsquo;s count, they do!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They certainly do, Jan-an.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t going to take no chances with yer!&rdquo; she muttered
-at length. &ldquo;&rsquo;Tain&rsquo;t natural. Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter
-ain&rsquo;t risking so much as&ndash;&ndash;her&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You mean&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; Northrup felt guilty. He knew whom
-the girl meant&ndash;&ndash;he felt as if he were taking advantage;
-eavesdropping or reading someone else&rsquo;s letter.</p>
-<p>Jan-an sunk her face deeper into the cup of her hands&ndash;&ndash;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 &ldquo;good and proper.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, everything was running on same as common,&rdquo;
-Jan-an muttered&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;same as common. Then that old ha&rsquo;nt
-bell took to ringing, like all possessed. I just naturally
-thought &rsquo;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?&rdquo; The twisted ideas sprang into a
-question.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s one on me, Jan-an!&rdquo; Northrup laughed. &ldquo;I
-was afraid I&rsquo;d be found out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t yer read?&rdquo; Jan-an could not utterly distrust this
-person who was puzzling her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I can read and write, Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then what in tarnation made yer plump in that way?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The Lord knows, Jan-an!&rdquo; Almost the tone was reverent.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Then <i>he</i> came ructioning in&ndash;&ndash;Larry, I mean. An&rsquo; everything
-is different from what it was. Just like a bubbling pot&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;poor
-Jan-an grew picturesque&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;with the top wobbling. I
-wish&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;she turned pleading eyes on Northrup&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;I wish ter
-God you&rsquo;d clear out.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;So Larry has come back?&rdquo; he asked indifferently. Then:
-&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve caught sight of him from a distance. Good-looking
-fellow, this Larry of yours, Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He ain&rsquo;t mine. If he was&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; Jan-an looked mutinous
-and Northrup laughed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;See here, you!&rdquo; The girl was irritated by the laugh.
-&ldquo;Larry, he thinks that Mary-Clare has set eyes on yer
-before yer came that day. Larry is making ructions, and
-folks are talking.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s ridiculous.&rdquo; Northrup found his heart
-beating a bit quicker.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I know it is, but Maclin can make Larry think anything.
-Honest to God, yer ain&rsquo;t siding &rsquo;long of Maclin?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Honest to God, Jan-an, I&rsquo;m not.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then why did yer stumble in on us that way?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, Jan-an. That&rsquo;s honest to God, too!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then if nothing is mattering ter yer, and one place is as
-good as another, why don&rsquo;t you go along?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Well, Jan-an,&rdquo; he said at last, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s this way. Things
-<i>are</i> mattering. Mattering like thunder! And one place
-isn&rsquo;t as good as another; this place is the only place on the
-map just now&ndash;&ndash;catch on?&rdquo;</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 &ldquo;catch on&rdquo;; 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>&ldquo;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&rsquo;m going to stay right
-here&ndash;&ndash;pass that along to anyone who asks you, Jan-an. I&rsquo;m
-going to stay here and see this thing out!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What thing?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;What thing?&rdquo; she asked huskily. Then Northrup
-laughed that disturbing laugh of his.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, Jan-an. &rsquo;Pon my soul, girl, I&rsquo;d give a
-good deal to know, but I don&rsquo;t. I&rsquo;m like you, just feeling
-things.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been following you since the first day when you
-landed,&rdquo; Jan-an spoke calmly. There was no warning or
-distrust in the voice, merely a statement of fact. &ldquo;And I&rsquo;m
-going to keep on following and watching, so long as you
-stay.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good! I&rsquo;ll never be really lonely then, and you&rsquo;ll sooner
-get to trusting me.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t much for trusting till I knows.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The girl turned and strode away. &ldquo;Well, if you ever
-need me, try me out, Jan-an. Good-bye.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup felt ill at ease after Jan-an passed from sight.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Of all the messes!&rdquo; he thought. &ldquo;It makes me superstitious.
-What&rsquo;s the matter with this Forest?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;They don&rsquo;t trust Maclin.&rdquo; Northrup began to reduce
-things to normal. &ldquo;He&rsquo;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&rsquo;s to you! And before we&rsquo;re
-through with each other some interesting things will occur,
-or I&rsquo;ll miss my guess.&rdquo;</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, &ldquo;fumigations&rdquo;
-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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;and she
-knew she had bungled with Larry&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;she
-had seen Larry fleeing on the lake road as she came over
-the fields from the Point.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s up?&rdquo; she asked in her dull, even tones, while in
-her vacant eyes the groping, tender look grew.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! Jan-an,&rdquo; Mary-Clare was off her guard, &ldquo;the letters;
-my dear old doctor&rsquo;s letters&ndash;&ndash;they are gone; gone.&rdquo; Her
-feeling seemed out of all proportion to the loss.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Who took &rsquo;em?&rdquo; And then Jan-an did one of those
-quick, intelligent things that sometimes shamed sharper wits&ndash;&ndash;she
-went to the hearth. &ldquo;There ain&rsquo;t been no fire,&rdquo; she
-muttered. &ldquo;He ain&rsquo;t burned &rsquo;em. What did he take them
-for?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This question steadied Mary-Clare. &ldquo;I&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;If yer have there&rsquo;s no need fussing. I&rsquo;ll find &rsquo;em. I
-kin find anything if yer give me time. I have ter get on the
-scent.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare gave a nervous laugh.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Just old letters,&rdquo; she murmured, &ldquo;but they meant, oh!
-they meant so much. Come,&rdquo; she said suddenly, &ldquo;come, I
-must dress and get breakfast.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve et.&rdquo; Jan-an was gathering the bedclothes from the
-floor. She selected the coverlid and brought it to Mary-Clare.
-&ldquo;There, now,&rdquo; she whispered, wrapping it about her,
-&ldquo;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!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s dead, Philander Sniff. Went terrible sudden after
-taking all this time. I clean forgot&ndash;&ndash;letters and doings. I
-can&rsquo;t think of more than one thing at a time.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Old Philander Sniff, he died just like a whiff&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Noreen!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Well, Motherly, Philander was a cruel old man. Just
-being dead don&rsquo;t make him anything different but&ndash;&ndash;dead.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Noreen, you must keep quiet. Jan-an, tell me about
-it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare&rsquo;s voice commanded the situation. Jan-an&rsquo;s
-stony gurgle ceased and she began relating what she had
-come to tell.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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, &lsquo;Peneluna says good-night,&rsquo; and he took in
-the food and slammed the door, same as usual.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Old Philander Sniff&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; began Noreen&rsquo;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>&ldquo;And then,&rdquo; the girl went on, &ldquo;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!&rdquo; Jan-an lost her breath and
-paused, then rushed along: &ldquo;He&rsquo;d raised his winder and
-after all the keeping still, he called for Peneluna to come.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare visualized the dramatic scene that poor Jan-an
-was mumbling monotonously.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And she went! I just lay there scared stiff hearing things
-an&rsquo; seeing &rsquo;em! Come morning, in walked Peneluna looking
-still and high and she didn&rsquo;t say nothing till she&rsquo;d gone and
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span>
-fetched those togs of hers, black &rsquo;uns, you know, that Aunt
-Polly gave her long back. She put &rsquo;em on, bonnet and veil
-an&rsquo; everything. Then she took an old red rose out of a box
-and pinned it on the front of her bonnet&ndash;&ndash;God! but she did
-look skeery&ndash;&ndash;and then said to me awful careful, &lsquo;Trot on to
-Mary-Clare, tell her to fotch the marriage service <i>and</i> the
-funeral one, both!&rsquo; Jes&rsquo; like that she said it. Both!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;This is very strange,&rdquo; Mary-Clare said slowly and got up.
-&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to the Point, Jan-an, and you will take Noreen
-to the inn, like a good girl. I&rsquo;ll call for her in the afternoon.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Take both!&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s and paid for it by service
-in Doctor Rivers&rsquo;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. &ldquo;God Almighty!&rdquo;
-he confided to Twombly who had worked in the mines with
-him and had looked after him in his illness; &ldquo;yer can&rsquo;t shake
-some women even when it&rsquo;s for their good.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Some mightn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;I wonder what happened before they came here?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Philander&rsquo;s dead!&rdquo; The words were like an accompaniment,
-passing from lip to lip. &ldquo;An&rsquo; she won&rsquo;t let a soul in.&rdquo;
-This was added.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She will presently,&rdquo; Mary-Clare reassured them. &ldquo;She&rsquo;ll
-need you all, later.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was a little plot of grass between Peneluna&rsquo;s shack
-and Philander&rsquo;s and a few scraggy autumn flowers edged a
-well-worn path from one back door to the other!</p>
-<p>At Philander&rsquo;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
-cr&ecirc;pe veil and the absurd red rose wobbled dejectedly as
-Peneluna moved about.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Come in, child, and shut the world out.&rdquo; Then, leading
-the way to an inner room, &ldquo;Have yer got <i>both</i> services?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Peneluna.&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;after
-that the shut-out world might have its turn.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve sent word over to the Post Office,&rdquo; Peneluna began,
-&ldquo;and they&rsquo;re going to get folks, the doctor and minister and
-the rest. Before they get here&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; Peneluna paused&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;before
-they get here I want that you should act for the old
-doctor.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was the one thing needed to rouse Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do my best, Peneluna,&rdquo; she whispered, and clutched
-the prayer-book.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The ole doctor, he knew &rsquo;bout Philander and me. He
-said&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Peneluna caught her breath&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;he said once as how
-it was women like me that kept men believing. He said I
-had a right to hold my tongue&ndash;&ndash;he held his&rsquo;n.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Mary-Clare, I want yer should read the marriage service
-over me and him!&rdquo; Peneluna gravely nodded to her silent
-dead. &ldquo;I got this to say: If Philander ain&rsquo;t too far on his
-journey, I guess he&rsquo;ll look back and understand and then he
-can go on more cheerful-like and easy. Last night he hadn&rsquo;t
-more than time to say a few things, but they cleared everything,
-and if I&rsquo;m his wife, he can trust me&ndash;&ndash;a wife wouldn&rsquo;t
-harm a dead husband when she <i>might</i> the man who jilted her.&rdquo;
-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. &ldquo;Read on, Mary-Clare,
-and then I can speak out.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Him and me, Mary-Clare,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;&rsquo;fore God and you
-is husband and wife.&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Seems like it might be the soul of Philander,&rdquo; Peneluna
-said&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;In honour bound, though it breaks the heart of me, I&rsquo;m
-going to speak, Mary-Clare, then his poor soul can rest in
-peace.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The Methodist parson, what comes teetering &rsquo;round just
-so often, always thought Philander was hell-bound, Mary-Clare;
-well, since there ain&rsquo;t anyone but that parson as knows
-so much about hell, to send for, I&rsquo;ve sent for him and there&rsquo;s
-no knowing what he won&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;my
-ears will be deaf to him and Philander can&rsquo;t hear.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was a heavy pause while Mary-Clare waited.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hell don&rsquo;t scare me nohow,&rdquo; Peneluna went on; &ldquo;seems
-like the most interesting folks is headed for it and I&rsquo;ll take
-good company every time to what some church folks hands
-out. And, too, hell can&rsquo;t be half bad if you have them you
-love with you. So the parson can do his worst. Philander
-and me won&rsquo;t mind now.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Back of the time we came here&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Peneluna was picking
-her words as a child does its blocks, carefully in order to form
-the right word&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;me and Philander was promised.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Drifting about in Mary-Clare&rsquo;s thought a scrap of old scandal
-stirred, but it had little to feed on and passed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then a woman got mixed up &rsquo;twixt him and me. In her
-young days she&rsquo;d been French and you know yer can&rsquo;t get
-away from what&rsquo;s born in the blood, and the Frenchiness was
-terrible onsettling. Philander was side-twisted. Yer see,
-Mary-Clare, when a man ain&rsquo;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&rsquo;t
-rightfully know what he was about.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peneluna drew the end of her cr&ecirc;pe veil up and wiped her
-eyes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They went off together, him and the furriner. Least, the
-furriner took him off, and the next thing I heard she&rsquo;d taken
-to her heels and Philander drifted here to the mines. I knew
-he needed me more than ever&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;d been his proper wife he wouldn&rsquo;t
-have washed &rsquo;em. Men don&rsquo;t when they get used to a
-woman.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And then&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;here Peneluna caught her breath&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;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:
-&lsquo;I didn&rsquo;t think I had a right to you, Pen&rsquo;&ndash;&ndash;he used to call me
-Pen&ndash;&ndash;&lsquo;after what I did. And I&rsquo;ve just paid for my evil-doing
-up to the end, not taking comfort and forgiveness&ndash;&ndash;just
-paying!&rsquo; I never let on, Mary-Clare, how I&rsquo;d paid, too.
-Men folks are blind-spotted, we&rsquo;ve got to take &rsquo;em as they are.
-Philander thought he had worked out his soul&rsquo;s salvation
-while he was starving me, soul and body, but I never let on
-and he died smiling and saying, &lsquo;The food was terrible staying,
-Pen, terrible staying.&rsquo;&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;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 &rsquo;fore he came to the Forest&ndash;&ndash;but how you got to
-knowing things, child, and being tender and patient, &rsquo;stead
-of hot and full of hate, I don&rsquo;t know! Now read, soft and low,
-so only us three can hear&ndash;&ndash;the last service.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;or was it old Philander&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Now the Pointers can have their way &rsquo;cording to rule,
-Mary-Clare,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;but you and me understand,
-child. And listen to this, I ain&rsquo;t much of a muchness, but
-come thick or thin, Mary-Clare, I&rsquo;ll do my first and last for
-you &rsquo;cause of the secret lying &rsquo;twixt us.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then Mary-Clare asked the question that was hurting her
-with its weight.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Peneluna, was it love, the thing that made you glad,
-through it all, just to wait?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t rightly know, Mary-Clare. It was something
-too big for me to call by name, but I just couldn&rsquo;t act different
-and kill it, not even when her as once was French made me
-feel I oughter. I wouldn&rsquo;t darst harm that feeling I had,
-child.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And it paid?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I only know I was glad, when he called
-last night, that I was waiting.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;What are you going to do now?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll need some place
-to crawl to and call her own. I don&rsquo;t know, but I&rsquo;m a powerful
-waiter and I&rsquo;ll keep an eye and ear open.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&rsquo;t be got
-out of one&rsquo;s heart, once it had entered in. What was it?
-It wasn&rsquo;t duty or just living on. It was something too big
-to name. Why was the wonder of it crowding all else out&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;oh! yearningly she hoped&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s
-voice. But was it Noreen&rsquo;s?</p>
-<p>Often, in her wondering moments, Mary-Clare had pictured
-her little girl as she longed for her to be&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Oh! tell it again, please! I want to learn it for Motherly.
-It is awfully funny&ndash;&ndash;and make the funny face that goes with
-it&ndash;&ndash;the crinkly-up face.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;All right. Here goes!</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>&ldquo;Up the airy mountain,</p>
-<p>Down the rustly glen&ndash;&ndash;</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>that&rsquo;s the way, Noreen, scuffle your feet in the leaves&ndash;&ndash;</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>&ldquo;We daren&rsquo;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&rsquo;s feather&ndash;&ndash;</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>Here, you, Noreen, play fair; scuffle and keep step, you little
-beggar!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But I may step on the wee men, the good men,&rdquo; again
-the rich chuckle.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, you won&rsquo;t if you scuffle and then step high; they&rsquo;ll slip
-between your feet.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s
-Point was in her soul, and the wonder of her child&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Your little daughter got homesick, or mother-sick, Mrs.
-Rivers&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Northrup took off his hat&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;Aunt Polly gave
-me the privilege of bringing her to you. We became friends
-from the moment we met. We&rsquo;ve been making great strides
-all day.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Mr.&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Northrup.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Mr. Northrup. You have made Noreen
-very happy&ndash;&ndash;and she does not make friends easily.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But, Motherly,&rdquo; Noreen was flushed and eager. &ldquo;<i>He</i> isn&rsquo;t
-a friend. Jan-an told me all about him. He&rsquo;s something
-the wild-wind brought. You are, aren&rsquo;t you, Mr. Sir?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, something like that,&rdquo; he admitted. &ldquo;May I walk
-along with you, Mrs. Rivers? Unless I go around the lake,
-I must turn back.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>And so they walked on, Noreen darting here and there
-quite unlike her staid little self, and they talked of many
-things&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;How on earth could she manage to be what she is?&rdquo;
-pondered Northrup. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s read and thought to some purpose.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What does he mean by being here?&rdquo; pondered Mary-Clare.
-&ldquo;This isn&rsquo;t just a happening.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s tired,&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Will you come and meet my husband?&rdquo; she asked of
-Northrup.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll put off the pleasure, if you&rsquo;ll excuse me, Mrs. Rivers.
-I have learned that one cannot tamper with Aunt Polly&rsquo;s
-raised biscuits. It&rsquo;s late, but may I call to-morrow?&rdquo;
-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>&ldquo;So that&rsquo;s the Northrup fellow, is it?&rdquo; Mary-Clare
-flushed and had a sensation of being lassoed by an invisible
-hand.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. He is staying at the inn&ndash;&ndash;I sent Noreen there this
-morning while I went over to the Point; he was bringing
-her home.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He seemed to know that you weren&rsquo;t home.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Children come in handy,&rdquo; Larry smiled pleasantly.
-&ldquo;More potato, Mary-Clare?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo; Then, almost defiantly: &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why the explanation?&rdquo; Larry looked blank and again
-Mary-Clare flushed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I felt one was needed.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t see why. By the way, Mary-Clare, those squatters
-at the Point are going to get a rough deal. Either they&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was unfortunate, but Larry was ill at ease.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maclin doesn&rsquo;t own the Point, Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You better listen to Maclin and not Peter Heathcote.&rdquo;
-Larry retraced his steps. His doubt of Northrup had led
-him astray.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare gave him a startled look.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maclin&rsquo;s a brute,&rdquo; she said quietly. &ldquo;I prefer to listen
-to my friends.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maclin&rsquo;s our friend. Yours and mine. You&rsquo;ll learn that
-some day.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I doubt it, Larry, but he&rsquo;s your employer and I do not
-forget that.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t. And you&rsquo;re going to change your mind some
-fine day, my girl, about a lot of things.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sleeping outside, Mary-Clare.&rdquo; Larry rose lazily.
-&ldquo;I just dropped in to&ndash;&ndash;to call.&rdquo; He laughed unpleasantly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, Larry, that you feel as you do.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Like hell you are!&rdquo; The words were barely audible.
-&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to give you a free hand, Mary-Clare, but I&rsquo;m
-going to let folks see your game. That&rsquo;s square enough.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, Larry.&rdquo; Mary-Clare&rsquo;s eyes flickered. Then:
-&ldquo;Why did you take those letters?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry looked blankly at her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t taken any letters. What you hoaxing up?&rdquo;
-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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Never force a woman,&rdquo; he confided to Larry at that
-juncture, &ldquo;that is, if she is independent.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What you mean, independent?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s declaration of independence. Maclin&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; Larry puffed and panted, &ldquo;there is always a way
-to get the upper hand of a woman and, I reckon, Maclin,
-when he&rsquo;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.&rdquo; Larry grunted the words out and stumbled along.
-&ldquo;First and last,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s just two ways to deal
-with women. Break &rsquo;em or let them break themselves.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry&rsquo;s idea now was to let Mary-Clare break herself with
-the Forest as audience. He wasn&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Now, Larry,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t make a mistake. Some
-women don&rsquo;t have weak spots, they have knots&ndash;&ndash;weak ends
-tied together, so to speak. The cold, calculating breed&ndash;&ndash;and
-your wife, no offence intended, is mighty chilly&ndash;&ndash;can&rsquo;t
-be broken, as you intimate, but they can be untied and&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Maclin
-was pleased with his picturesque figures of speech&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;left
-dangling.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was amusing. Both men guffawed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do you know, Rivers&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Maclin suddenly relapsed into
-seriousness&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;knowing all he knew
-and seeming to set such a store by the girl.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;No use harking back to that, Maclin,&rdquo; he said: &ldquo;some
-things ain&rsquo;t common property, you know, even between you
-and me. We agreed to that.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; the word came softly. Was it apologetic or
-threatening?</p>
-<p>There was a pause. Then Maclin unbent.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Larry,&rdquo; he began, tossing his cigar aside, &ldquo;you haven&rsquo;t
-ever given me full credit, my boy, for what I&rsquo;ve tried to do for
-you. See here, old man, I have got you out of more than one
-fix, haven&rsquo;t I?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry looked back&ndash;&ndash;the way was not a pleasant one.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted, &ldquo;yes, you have, Maclin.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;ll think different about that. I&rsquo;ve got to work under
-cover myself to a certain extent. I&rsquo;m not my own master.
-But this I can say&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll all feel
-repaid. Can you&ndash;&ndash;do you catch on, Larry?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s like catching on to something in the dark,&rdquo; Larry
-muttered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s something,&rdquo; Maclin said cheerfully. &ldquo;Something
-to hold to in the dark isn&rsquo;t to be sneered at.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Depends upon what it is!&rdquo; Apparently Larry was in a
-difficult mood. Maclin tried a new course.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s one thing having a friend in the dark, old man, and
-another having an enemy. I suppose that&rsquo;s what you mean.
-Well, have I been much of an enemy to you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I just told you what I think about that.&rdquo; Larry misinterpreted
-Maclin&rsquo;s manner and took advantage.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Larry, I&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry started as if an electric spark had touched him.
-Maclin appeared not to notice.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;&ndash;&ndash;is on our tracks, but he mustn&rsquo;t suspect that we have
-sensed it.&rdquo; The words were ill-chosen. Having any one on
-his tracks was a significant phrase that left an ugly fear in
-Larry&rsquo;s mind.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What tracks?&rdquo; he asked suspiciously.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Our inventions.&rdquo; Maclin showed no nervous dread.
-&ldquo;These inventions, big as they are, old man, are devilish
-simple. That&rsquo;s why we have to lie low. Any really keen
-chap with the right slant could steal them from under our
-noses. That&rsquo;s why I like to get foreigners in here&ndash;&ndash;these
-Dutchies don&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You know that for a fact, Maclin?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Sure, I know it.&rdquo; Maclin was a man who believed in
-holding all the cards and discarding at his leisure; he always
-played a slow game. &ldquo;I know his kind, but I&rsquo;m going to let
-him hang himself. Now see here, Rivers, you better take me
-into your confidence&ndash;&ndash;I may be able to fix you up. What&rsquo;s
-wrong between you and your wife?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Well, then&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Larry looked sullen&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve left the house
-and mean to stay out until Mary-Clare comes to her
-senses!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, old man. I rather smelled this out. I only
-wanted to make sure. It&rsquo;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&rsquo;re down, but I will say
-this, your wife doesn&rsquo;t look like one mourning without hope
-when you&rsquo;re away, and with this Northrup chap on the spot,
-needing entertainment while he works his game, I&rsquo;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 &rsquo;em alone, I guess the
-Forest will smoke &rsquo;em out.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t get a wrong slant on me, old man. I&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s taken the Heathcotes in and
-how he&rsquo;s used her while he was boring underground, she&rsquo;ll
-flare up and know the meaning of real friends. Some women
-have to be <i>shown</i>!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Now see here, Rivers!&rdquo; Maclin drew his chair closer and
-laid his hand on Larry&rsquo;s arm&ndash;&ndash;he gloated over the trouble in
-the eyes holding his with dumb questioning. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s coming
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span>
-out all right. We&rsquo;re in early and we&rsquo;ve got the best seats&ndash;&ndash;only
-keep them guessing; guessing! Larry, your wife goes&ndash;&ndash;down
-to the Point a lot&ndash;&ndash;goes missionarying, you know.
-Well, this Northrup is tramping around in the woods skirting
-the Point.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Now there&rsquo;s an empty shack on the Point, Rivers&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s your business to <i>get</i> it and then watch
-out and keep your mouth shut. You&rsquo;ve got to live somewhere
-while you can&rsquo;t live decent at home. &rsquo;Tisn&rsquo;t likely
-your wife, having slammed the door of her home on you, will
-oust you from that hovel on the Point&ndash;&ndash;your being there will
-work both ways&ndash;&ndash;she won&rsquo;t dare to take a step.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry drew a sigh, a heavy one, and began to understand.
-He saw more than Maclin could see.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She hasn&rsquo;t turned me out,&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;I came out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Let her explain that, Rivers. See? She can&rsquo;t do it while
-she&rsquo;s gallivanting with this here Northrup.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry saw the possibilities from Maclin&rsquo;s standpoint, but
-he saw Mary-Clare&rsquo;s smile and that uplifted head. He was
-overwhelmed again by the sense of impotence.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Give a woman a free rein, Rivers, she&rsquo;ll shy, sooner or
-later.&rdquo; Maclin was gaining assurance as he saw Larry&rsquo;s discomfort.
-&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what keeps women from getting on&ndash;&ndash;they
-shy! When all&rsquo;s said, a tight rein is a woman&rsquo;s best good,
-but some women have to learn that.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s turn in, anyway, for to-night, old boy.&rdquo; Maclin&rsquo;s
-voice sounded paternal. &ldquo;To-morrow is to-morrow and
-you&rsquo;ll feel able to tackle the job after a night&rsquo;s sleep.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d offer to hire the shanty,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s
-an old codger down there, too, Twombley they call him&ndash;&ndash;he&rsquo;s
-smart as the devil, but you can&rsquo;t tell which way he may leap.
-Try him out. Get him to take sides with you if you can.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I remember Twombley,&rdquo; Larry said. &ldquo;Dad used to get
-a lot of fun out of him in the old days. I haven&rsquo;t been on the
-Point since I was a boy.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a good thing you never troubled the Point, Rivers.
-They&rsquo;ll be more stirred by you now.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maybe they&rsquo;ll kick me out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Never fear!&rdquo; Maclin reassured him. &ldquo;Not if you show
-good money and play up to your old dad. He had everyone
-eating out of his hand, all right.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;t talk back.
-The man had made Mary-Clare cry as she sat holding Peneluna&rsquo;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 &ldquo;heaven&rdquo; she had
-made.</p>
-<p>Larry laughed at this and muttered: &ldquo;Made it in hell, eh,
-kid?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Well, Twombley, how are you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Twombley spat and took Larry out of the pigeonhole of his
-memory&ndash;&ndash;labelled and priced; Twombley had not thought
-of him in years, as a definite individual. He was Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-husband; a drifter; a tool of Maclin. As such he was
-negligible.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Feeling same as I look,&rdquo; he said at last. He was ready
-to appraise the man before him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Bad nut,&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Old Sniff&rsquo;s popped, I hear.&rdquo; Larry, now that he chose to
-be friendly, endeavoured to fit his language to his hearer&rsquo;s
-level. &ldquo;Have a cigar, Twombley?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll keep to my pipe.&rdquo; The old man&rsquo;s face was expressionless.
-&ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t get a taste for what you can&rsquo;t afford
-you don&rsquo;t ruin it for what you can. Yes, looks as if Sniff
-was dead. They&rsquo;ve buried him, at any rate.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s got his place?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Peneluna Sniff.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Was he married?&rdquo; Floating in Rivers&rsquo;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>&ldquo;She went through the marriage service. That fixes it,
-don&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; Twombley puffed loudly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I suppose it does, but I kind of recall that there was a
-quarrel between them.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t that a proof that they was married?&rdquo; Twombley&rsquo;s
-eyes twinkled through the slits of lids&ndash;&ndash;he always squinted
-his eyes close when he wanted to go slow. Larry laughed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t Peneluna Sniff, or whatever her name is, live in a
-house by herself?&rdquo; he asked. He was puzzled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She sure did. Your old man was a powerful understander
-of human nater. A few feet &rsquo;twixt married folks, he uster
-say, often saves the day.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, who&rsquo;s got her house?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s got it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Empty?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess the same truck&rsquo;s in it that always was. I ain&rsquo;t
-seen any moving out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Is Mrs. Sniff at home?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How do you suppose I know, young man? These ain&rsquo;t
-calling hours on the Point.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, they&rsquo;re business hours, all right, Twombley. See
-here, my friend, I&rsquo;m going to hire that house of Mrs. Sniff if I
-can.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Twombley&rsquo;s slits came close together.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; was all he vouchsafed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. And I wish you&rsquo;d pass the word along, my friend.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t pass nothing!&rdquo; Twombley interrupted. &ldquo;I take
-all I kin git. I make use of what I can. The rest, I chuck.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, have it your own way, but I&rsquo;m your friend, Twombley,
-and the friend of your neighbours. I cannot say more
-now&ndash;&ndash;but you&rsquo;ll all believe it some day.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maclin standing back of yer, young feller?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. And that&rsquo;s where you&rsquo;ve made another bad guess,
-Twombley. Maclin&rsquo;s your friend, only he isn&rsquo;t free to speak
-out just now.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Gosh! we ain&rsquo;t eager for him to speak. The stiller he is
-the better we like it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He knows that. He&rsquo;s given up&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;m one of you, you know that, Twombley.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Never would have guessed it, son!&rdquo; Twombley leered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, my wife&rsquo;s always been your friend&ndash;&ndash;what&rsquo;s the
-difference? I&rsquo;ve been on my job; she&rsquo;s been on hers&ndash;&ndash;it&rsquo;s all
-the same, only now I&rsquo;m going to prove it!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Gosh! you&rsquo;ll be a shock to Maclin all right.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, I won&rsquo;t, Twombley. You&rsquo;re wrong about him.
-He&rsquo;s meant right, but not being one of us he&rsquo;s bungled, he
-knows it now. He&rsquo;s listened to me at last.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Funny thing, life is,&rdquo; he ruminated, seeming to forget
-Larry&rsquo;s presence. &ldquo;Yer get to thinking you&rsquo;re running down
-hill on a greased plank, and sudden&ndash;&ndash;a nail catches yer
-breeches and yer stop in time to see where yer was going!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What then, Twombley?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! nothing. Only as long as yer breeches hold and the
-nail don&rsquo;t come out, yer keep on looking!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Again Twombley spat. Then, seeing his guest rising, he
-asked with great dignity:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Going, young sir?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, over to Mrs. Sniff&rsquo;s. And if we are neighbours,
-Twombley, let us be friends. My father had a liking for you,
-I remember.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not forgetting that, young sir.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>When Larry reached Mrs. Sniff&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Well, what in all possessed got yer down here?&rdquo; asked
-the girl, her face stiffening.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s Mrs. Sniff?&rdquo; 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>
-&ldquo;You never can tell about her kind,&rdquo; he had said; he had a
-superstitious fear of her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What, shut the poor child from her freedom?&rdquo; Aunt
-Polly had asked him, &ldquo;just because we cannot tell? Lordy!
-Larry Rivers, there wouldn&rsquo;t be many people running around
-loose if we applied that rule to them.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There were some turns that conversation took that sent
-Larry into sudden silences&ndash;&ndash;this had been one. He had
-never referred to Jan-an&rsquo;s treatment after that, but he always
-resented her.</p>
-<p>Jan-an continued to stare at him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There ain&rsquo;t no Mrs. Sniff&rdquo; she said finally. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s
-ailin&rsquo; folks around here?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, where&rsquo;s Miss Peneluna?&rdquo; Larry ventured, thinking
-back to the old title of his boyhood days.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Setting!&rdquo; Jan-an returned to her sweeping and Larry
-stepped aside.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I want to see her,&rdquo; he said angrily. &ldquo;Get out of the
-way.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She ain&rsquo;t no great sight, and I&rsquo;m cleaning up!&rdquo; Jan-an
-scowled and her energy suggested that Larry might soon be
-included among the things she was getting rid of.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;See here&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Larry&rsquo;s eyes darkened&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;if you don&rsquo;t stand
-aside&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; she said quietly. &ldquo;And you, Jan-an, you
-trundle over to my old place and clean up.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Miss Peneluna,&rdquo; he began finally, but the stiff lips interrupted
-him:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;<i>Mrs. Sniff</i>.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good Lord! Mrs. Sniff, then. You see, I didn&rsquo;t know you
-were married.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you? You might not know everything that goes
-on. You don&rsquo;t trouble us much. Your goings and comings
-leave us strangers.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry did not reply. He was manufacturing tears, and
-presently, to Peneluna&rsquo;s amazement, they glistened on his
-cheeks.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wonder&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Larry&rsquo;s voice trembled&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;I wonder if I can
-speak openly to you, Mrs.&ndash;&ndash;Mrs. Sniff? You were in my
-father&rsquo;s house; he trusted you. I do not seem to have any
-one but you at this crisis.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peneluna sneezed. She had a terrible habit of sneezing
-at will&ndash;&ndash;it was positively shocking.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess there ain&rsquo;t any reason for you not speaking out
-your ideas to me,&rdquo; she said cautiously. &ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t much of a
-fount of wisdom, but I ain&rsquo;t a babbling brook, neither.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Peneluna, Mary-Clare and I have had some words; I&rsquo;ve
-left home.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was no answer to this. Larry moistened his lips
-and went on:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Perhaps Mary-Clare has told you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, she ain&rsquo;t blabbed none.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was disconcerting.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She wouldn&rsquo;t, and I am not going to, either. It&rsquo;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&rsquo;ve been away too much and things
-have got snarled. Mary-Clare doesn&rsquo;t rightly see things.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes she does, Larry Rivers! She&rsquo;s terrible seeing.&rdquo;
-Peneluna&rsquo;s eyes flashed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;ll all know soon enough. Danger&rsquo;s threatening and I&rsquo;m
-going to be on the spot! You&rsquo;ve all got a wrong line on Maclin,
-so he&rsquo;s side-stepped and listened to me at last; I&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peneluna sneezed lustily; it made Larry wince.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Until Mary-Clare turns you out?&rdquo; she asked harshly.
-&ldquo;And gets talked about for doing it&ndash;&ndash;or lets you stay on reflecting
-upon her what can&rsquo;t tell her side? Larry Rivers, you
-always was a thorn in your good father&rsquo;s side and I reckon
-you&rsquo;ve been one in Mary-Clare&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry winced again and recalled sharply the old vacations
-and this woman&rsquo;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 &ldquo;internally and eternally
-hated boys.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re hard on me, Mrs. Sniff. You&rsquo;ll be sorry some
-day.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll be sorry!&rdquo; Peneluna sneezed.</p>
-<p>Presently her mood, however, changed. She regarded
-Larry with new interest.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How much will you give me for my place?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Five dollars a month, Mrs. Sniff.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m wanting ten.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was a staggering demand.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How bad does he want it?&rdquo; Peneluna was thinking.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How far had I best give in?&rdquo; Larry estimated.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Make it seven,&rdquo; he ventured.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Seven and then three dollars a week more if I cook and
-serve for you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry had overlooked this very important item.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; he agreed. &ldquo;When can I come?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Right off.&rdquo; Peneluna felt that she must get him under
-her eye as soon as possible. She moved to the door.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll make it straight with Mary-Clare?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry was following the rigid form out into the gathering
-dark&ndash;&ndash;a storm was rising; the bell on the distant island was
-ringing gleefully like a wicked little imp set free.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell her that you&rsquo;re here and that she best let you
-stay on, if that&rsquo;s what you mean.&rdquo; Peneluna led the way
-over the well-worn path she had often trod before. &ldquo;And,
-Larry Rivers, I don&rsquo;t rightly know as I&rsquo;m doing fair and
-square, but look at it as you will, it&rsquo;s better me than another
-if anything is wrong. I served yer good father and I set a
-store by yer wife and child&ndash;&ndash;and I want to hang hold of you
-all. I&rsquo;ve let you have yer way down here, but I don&rsquo;t want
-any ructions and I ain&rsquo;t going to have Maclin&rsquo;s crowd hinting
-and defiling anybody.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll never forget this, Mrs. Sniff.&rdquo; In the gathering
-gloom, behind Peneluna&rsquo;s striding form, Larry&rsquo;s voice almost
-broke again and undoubtedly the tears were on his cheeks.
-&ldquo;Some day, when you know all, you&rsquo;ll understand.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;t turn my back on the old doctor&rsquo;s son nor Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-husband but I don&rsquo;t want any tricks. You better not
-forget that! There&rsquo;s a bed in yonder.&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
-fetch food later.&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;it was
-the haunted wind; the bell sounded in the distance sharply.
-Jan-an paused in the gathering darkness and spoke tremblingly:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s a-going on?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s shoulder; her face softened&ndash;&ndash;but Jan-an
-could not see that.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Child&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;the old voice fell to a whisper&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t going to
-expect too much of yer&ndash;&ndash;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!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>A long crooked forefinger pointed to the shack, the windows
-of which were already darkened&ndash;&ndash;for Larry had drawn the
-shades!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Watch early and late there! Keep your mouth shut,
-except to me. Jan-an, I can trust yer?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The girl was growing nervous.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes&rsquo;m,&rdquo; she blurted suddenly and then fell to weeping.
-&ldquo;I keep feelin&rsquo; things like wings a-touching of me,&rdquo; she
-muttered. &ldquo;I hate the feelin&rsquo;. When nothing ain&rsquo;t happened
-ever, what&rsquo;s the reason it has ter begin now?&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Land o&rsquo; love!&rdquo; she muttered at last. &ldquo;Now these here
-words mean something particular. Seems like they must
-get into me with their meaning if I hold to &rsquo;em long enough.
-Lord! I don&rsquo;t see how folks can enjoy religion when you
-have to swallow it without tasting it.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;one by one. &ldquo;Highway&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;she
-could grasp that. &ldquo;A way and it shall be called&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;these
-words ran into each other but&ndash;&ndash;the &ldquo;way&rdquo; held. &ldquo;The
-wayfarer&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;well! that was easy; all folks taking to the highway
-were wayfarers&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;though fools shall not err therein.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peneluna, without realizing it, was on The Highway over
-which all pass, living, seeing, feeling, and storing up experience.
-In old Philander&rsquo;s quiet memory-haunted room she
-was pausing and looking back; groping forward&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;So! so!&rdquo; she would nod and mutter. &ldquo;So! so!&rdquo; It was
-like meeting others on The Highway, greeting them, and then
-going on alone!</p>
-<p>That was the hurt of it all&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s Forest than that he was the old
-doctor&rsquo;s son, Mary-Clare&rsquo;s husband, and Maclin&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;she accepted and became
-responsible in a deep and grateful manner. She must remember
-about Larry. Remember all she could&ndash;&ndash;it would help
-her now.</p>
-<p>The trouble, Peneluna knew, began with Larry&rsquo;s mother.
-Larry&rsquo;s mother had wrecked the old doctor&rsquo;s life; had driven
-him to King&rsquo;s Forest. No one had ever told Peneluna this&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;it came sharply back, now, like a call from
-a wayfarer:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Miss Pen, it is because of such women as you and Aunt
-Polly that men <i>can</i> keep their faith.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>That was when Larry was desperately ill and Polly Heathcote
-and Peneluna were nursing him&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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 &ldquo;light unto her feet.&rdquo;
-She had, somehow, got an understanding of Larry Rivers:
-she believed that through his &ldquo;difficult streaks&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Time, Polly?&rdquo; Peter yawned.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Going on to &rsquo;leven.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He come in?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Full well Peter knew that he had not!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, Peter, and his evening meal is drying up in the oven&ndash;&ndash;I
-had creamed oysters, too. Creamed oysters are his
-specials.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Scandalous, your goings on with this young man!&rdquo;
-Peter sat up and stretched. Then he smiled at his sister.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, Peter, all my life I&rsquo;ve had to take snatches and
-scraps out of other folks&rsquo; lives when I could get them; and
-I declare I&rsquo;ve managed to patch together a real Lady&rsquo;s Delight-pattern
-sort of quilt to huddle under when I&rsquo;m cold
-and tired.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Tired now, Polly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Not exactly tired, brother, but sort of rigid. Feel as
-if I was braced for something. I&rsquo;ve often had that feeling.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Women! women!&rdquo; muttered Peter, and threw on another
-log.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What you suppose has happened to keep our young feller
-from the&ndash;&ndash;the oysters, eh?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;m just keeping my eyes and ears open. Jan-an makes me
-uneasy!&rdquo; This came like a mild explosion.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s she up to?&rdquo; Peter sniffed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;s like she was summoned.
-Just saying she had to! These are queer times, brother.
-I ain&rsquo;t easy in my mind.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;If Jan-an doesn&rsquo;t calm down,&rdquo; Peter muttered, &ldquo;she
-may have to be put somewhere, as Larry Rivers once suggested.
-Larry hasn&rsquo;t many earmarks of his pa&ndash;&ndash;but he
-may have a sense about human ailments.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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?&rdquo; Peter declined
-to reply and Aunt Polly went on: &ldquo;Larry isn&rsquo;t living
-with Mary-Clare, Peter!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Where is he living?&rdquo; he asked. When deeply stirred,
-Peter went slow and warily.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s hired Peneluna&rsquo;s old shack.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter digested this; but found it chaff.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You got this from Jan-an?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Has, or is going to?&rdquo; Peter was giving himself time to
-think.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Has!&rdquo; Aunt Polly was pulling her cushions into the
-cavities of her tired little body.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Damn funny!&rdquo; muttered Peter and added another log.
-The heat was growing ferocious. Then, as he eyed his sister:
-&ldquo;Better turn in, Polly. You look scrunched.&rdquo; To look
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span>
-&ldquo;scrunched&rdquo; was to look desperately exhausted. &ldquo;No use
-wearing yourself out for&ndash;&ndash;for folks,&rdquo; he added with a tenderness
-in his voice that always brought a peculiar smile to
-Polly&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see as there is anything else much, brother, to
-wear one&rsquo;s self out for.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why frazzle yourself for anything?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why shouldn&rsquo;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&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>In this mood Polly worried Peter deeply. He could not
-keep from looking ahead&ndash;&ndash;he avoided that usually&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s me!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the stitch, Peter my man,&rdquo; she whispered back as
-if fearing someone might hear, &ldquo;always the saving stitch.
-And take this to bed with you, brother: the frazzling isn&rsquo;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&rsquo;ve noticed that it&rsquo;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 &rsquo;em sorter rise. No need to flatten down until you&rsquo;re
-dead. Feeling tired is healthy and proper&ndash;&ndash;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.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;See that the fire&rsquo;s banked, Polly. Looks as if I&rsquo;d laid
-on a powerful lot of wood without thinking.&rdquo; Then he
-laughed and went on: &ldquo;You&rsquo;re durned comical, Polly. What
-you said about the Lord putting yeast into folks and the
-world <i>is</i> comical.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t say yeast, Peter Heathcote.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, yer meant yeast.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, I didn&rsquo;t mean yeast. I just meant something like
-Brace was talking about to-day.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What was it?&rdquo; Peter stood round and solid with the firelight
-ruddily upon him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He said that the fighting overseas ain&rsquo;t properly a war,
-but a general upheaval of things that have got to come to the
-top and be skimmed off. We ain&rsquo;t ever looked at it that
-way.&rdquo; Polly resorted to familiar similes when deeply affected.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess all wars is that.&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;But God ain&rsquo;t meaning for us to take
-sides, Polly. It&rsquo;s like family troubles. You don&rsquo;t understand
-them, and you better keep out. Just think of our good
-German friends and neighbours. We can&rsquo;t go back on them
-just &rsquo;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 &rsquo;em.&rdquo; Peter was voicing his unrest. Polly
-saw the trouble in his face.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;t a scrap set off by itself. I seem to have lots of
-scraps floating in my mind lately&ndash;&ndash;things I&rsquo;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&rsquo;s making, except size. That
-didn&rsquo;t mean anything until Brace set me to&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s Forests
-welded all together and every King&rsquo;s Forest is a drop of the
-world.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s &ldquo;vision&rdquo; as he called it. He might laugh
-and tease her, but he never took a definite step without
-reaching out to her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;A man must plant his foot solid on the path he knows,&rdquo;
-he often said, &ldquo;but that don&rsquo;t hinder him from lifting his
-eyes to the sky.&rdquo; And it was through Aunt Polly&rsquo;s eyes that
-Peter caught his view of skies.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t exactly like Brace digging down into things so
-much.&rdquo; Peter gave a troubled sigh. &ldquo;Some things ain&rsquo;t any
-use when they are dug up.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But some things <i>are</i>, brother. We must know.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, by gosh!&rdquo; Peter began to sway toward the door like
-a heavily freighted side-wheeler. &ldquo;I get to feeling sometimes
-as if I&rsquo;d kicked over a hornet&rsquo;s nest and wasn&rsquo;t certain
-whether it was a last year&rsquo;s one or this year&rsquo;s. In one case
-you can hold your ground, in the other you best take to your
-heels. Well, I&rsquo;m going to leave you, Polly, for your date
-with your young man. Don&rsquo;t forget the fire and don&rsquo;t set
-up too long.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;full well Polly knew that. It was Mary-Clare&rsquo;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&rsquo;s step sounded outside. He
-came hastily, but making little noise.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s up?&rdquo; he asked, starting back at the sight of Aunt
-Polly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Just me, son. Your dinner is scorched to nothing, but
-I wanted to tell you where the cookie jar is.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup came over to the sofa and sat down.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You deep and opaque female,&rdquo; he said, throwing his arm
-over the little bent shoulders. &ldquo;Own up. It isn&rsquo;t cookies,
-it&rsquo;s a switch. What have I done? Out with it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly laughed softly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s neither cookies nor switches when you come down to
-it,&rdquo; she chuckled. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s just waiting and not knowing
-why.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup leaned back against the sofa and said quietly:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Guessing about me, Aunt Polly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Same with me, Aunt Polly. We&rsquo;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&rsquo;t understand it; we can&rsquo;t; but we&rsquo;ve got to try to&ndash;&ndash;and
-that&rsquo;s the very devil. Aunt Polly, I&rsquo;ve been on the
-Point, talking to some of the folks down there&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s tried to
-earn his living, but found people too particular.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Earn his living, huh!&rdquo; Polly tried to look indignant.
-&ldquo;He&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;the scamp!&rdquo; Northrup saw that he
-had diverted Aunt Polly and gladly let her talk on.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Doctor had an old horse as was just pleading to be put an
-end to, but the doctor couldn&rsquo;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&rsquo;s-eye&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;t the owner gets fined
-twenty-five dollars, and he says he&rsquo;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>&ldquo;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&rsquo;d been put to in order to get that shot-and-buried-horse
-into shape for selling! He&rsquo;d sold him for ten
-dollars and expenses were twelve.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup leaned back and laughed until the quiet house
-re&euml;choed with his mirth.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Son, son!&rdquo; cautioned Polly, shaking and dim-eyed,
-&ldquo;it&rsquo;s going on to midnight. We can&rsquo;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&rsquo;t earn
-their keep proper naturally drifted to the Point&ndash;&ndash;God&rsquo;s
-living acre, as the doctor called it.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;It must be pleasant&ndash;&ndash;being your mother,&rdquo; Polly whispered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s pleasant having you acting as substitute,&rdquo; Northrup
-replied. &ldquo;Shall I bank the fire, Aunt Polly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, son, there&rsquo;s something else I must see to before I
-turn in. Aren&rsquo;t you going for the cookies?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes&rsquo;m. Going to munch them in bed.&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;and at the foot there was only&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Oh! you dear thing,&rdquo; she whispered, bending to recover
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
-the book, &ldquo;adding and subtracting when the whole world
-sleeps. Isn&rsquo;t it a wonderful feeling to have the night to
-yourself?&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;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.&rdquo; The start had been made!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes; Peneluna told us. He hasn&rsquo;t gone far.&rdquo; Aunt
-Polly knitted on while Mary-Clare gave a little laugh.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! dearie, he was far, far away before he started for the
-Point. Land doesn&rsquo;t count&ndash;&ndash;it&rsquo;s more than that, only I did
-not know. Isn&rsquo;t it queer, Aunt Polly, now that I understand
-things, I find that marrying Larry and having the babies
-haven&rsquo;t touched me at all&ndash;&ndash;I never belonged to them or they
-to me&ndash;&ndash;except Noreen. And it&rsquo;s queer about Noreen, too,
-she will never seem part of all that.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;My dear child!&rdquo; Aunt Polly was shocked in spite of herself.
-&ldquo;No woman can shake off her responsibilities in that
-way. Larry is your husband and you have been a mother.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You are talking <i>words</i>, Aunt Polly, not things.&rdquo; Aunt
-Polly knew that she <i>was</i> and it made her wince.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the trouble with us all, Aunt Polly. Saying words
-over and over and calling them things&ndash;&ndash;as if you could take
-God in!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;No matter what people say and say, underneath there is
-<i>truth</i>, Aunt Polly, and it&rsquo;s up to us to find it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And you think you are competent&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Aunt Polly, reflecting
-that she was using <i>words</i>, used them doubtfully&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;you
-think you are competent to know what <i>is</i> truth and to act
-upon it&ndash;&ndash;to the extent of sending your husband out of his
-home?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You dear!&rdquo; she whispered and then laughed.</p>
-<p>Presently, the fire again holding her, Mary-Clare went on:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;t even let me take <i>his</i> word when
-it came to anything that meant a lot to me.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He wanted you to marry Larry!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was a telling stroke and a long silence followed.
-Then:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wonder, Aunt Polly, I wonder.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do you doubt, child?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, but even if he did he was sick and so&ndash;&ndash;so
-tired, and Larry always worried him. I know very surely
-that if my doctor were here, and knew everything, he&rsquo;d say
-harder than ever: &lsquo;Use your woman-mind.&rsquo; And I&rsquo;m going
-to! Why, Aunt Polly, I haven&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;It has come to me, dear&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare now turned and
-came close to Aunt Polly, resting her folded arms on the
-thin little knees&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;It has come to me, dear, that things
-are not fixed right and when they are not, it won&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-souls if they dared to say so&ndash;&ndash;that no one, not even a
-husband, has a right to claim. It is hers and&ndash;&ndash;God&rsquo;s. But
-men don&rsquo;t know, and some don&rsquo;t care&ndash;&ndash;and they just rush
-along and take and take, never counting what it may cost&ndash;&ndash;and
-they make laws to help them when they might fail without,
-and&ndash;&ndash;well, Aunt Polly, it is hard to stand all alone in
-the world. I think the really happy women are those who
-don&rsquo;t know what I mean, or those that have loved enough,
-loved a man true enough&ndash;&ndash;to share that sacred place with him&ndash;&ndash;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>At this Aunt Polly braced against the pillows as if they
-were rocks.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Peneluna!&rdquo; she gasped.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Let me tell you, Aunt Polly. It is such a wonderful thing.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;And so, can you not see, dear Aunt Polly, it isn&rsquo;t a
-thing that laws can touch; it isn&rsquo;t being good or bad&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;m going to&ndash;&ndash;to
-keep myself, too! A woman can give a man a good deal&ndash;&ndash;but
-she can&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Little girl,&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;scraps&rdquo; of
-others&rsquo; lives, &ldquo;suppose the time should come when there
-would be in your life another&ndash;&ndash;someone besides Larry?
-Why has all this come so sudden to you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup seemed to loom in the room, just beyond the
-fire&rsquo;s glow. Her fear was taking shape.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;d keep my bargain as far as I
-could. But&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; and here Mary-Clare rose and flung
-her arms above her head. The action was jubilant, majestic.
-&ldquo;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&rsquo;s idea of
-it. I&rsquo;ll listen; I&rsquo;ll try to understand and be patient&ndash;&ndash;but
-it cannot be wrong, Aunt Polly, the thing I&rsquo;ve done&ndash;&ndash;since
-this great feeling of wings has come to me instead of heavy
-feet! Why, dear, I want something more than&ndash;&ndash;than the
-things women <i>think</i> are theirs. We don&rsquo;t know what is ours
-until we try.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And fail, my child?&rdquo; Aunt Polly was crying.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes; and fail sometimes and be hurt&ndash;&ndash;but paying and
-going on.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And leaving your man behind you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Aunt Polly&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare looked down upon the kind,
-quivering face&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;a woman&rsquo;s man cannot be left behind.
-He&rsquo;ll be beside her somehow. If she stays back, as I&rsquo;ve
-tried to do, she wouldn&rsquo;t be his woman! That&rsquo;s the dreadful
-trouble with Larry and me. But, dearie, it isn&rsquo;t always
-a man in a woman&rsquo;s life.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But the long, lonely way, child!&rdquo; Polly was retracing her
-own denied womanhood.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It need not be lonely, dear, when we women find&ndash;&ndash;other
-things. They will count. They must.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What other things, Mary-Clare?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what we must be finding out, dear. Love; the
-man: some day they will be the glory, making everything
-more splendid, but not&ndash;&ndash;the all. I think I should have died,
-Aunt Polly, had I kept on.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve somehow learned all this,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Mary-Clare, I do not know; I don&rsquo;t feel able to put it
-into words, but I do believe you&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maybe.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>A door upstairs slammed loudly and both women started
-nervously.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I must tell Peter to fix the latch of the attic door to-morrow,&rdquo;
-Aunt Polly said, relieved to be back on good,
-plain, solid ground. &ldquo;The attic winders are raised and the
-wind&rsquo;s rising. It will be slam, slam all night, unless&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;
-she rose quickly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Just a minute, Aunt Polly, I&rsquo;m so tired. Please let me
-lie here on the couch and rest for an hour and then I&rsquo;ll slip
-home.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Let me put you to bed properly, child. You look suddenly
-beat flat. That&rsquo;s the way with women. They get to
-thinking they&rsquo;ve got wings when they ain&rsquo;t, child, they
-ain&rsquo;t. You&rsquo;re making a terrible break in your life, child.
-Terrible.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was arranging the couch.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Come, dear,&rdquo; she wheedled, &ldquo;you tuck me up&ndash;&ndash;so! I&rsquo;ll
-bank the fire when I go and leave everything safe. A little
-rest and then to-morrow!&ndash;&ndash;well, you&rsquo;ll see that I have wings,
-Aunt Polly; they are only tired now&ndash;&ndash;for they are new wings!
-I know that it must seem all madness, but it had to come.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Aunt Polly pulled the soft covering over the huddled form&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Poor, reaching-out child!&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;For something that is <i>there</i>, Aunt Polly.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;God knows!&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Of course He does. That&rsquo;s why He gave us the&ndash;&ndash;reach.
-Good-night. Oh! how I love you, Aunt Polly. Good-night!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>It was Northrup&rsquo;s door that had slammed shut. Aunt
-Polly went above, secured the innocent attic door, and
-then pattered down to her bedroom near Peter&rsquo;s, feeling
-that her house, at least, was safe.</p>
-<p>It was silent at last. Northrup, in his dark chamber, lay
-awake and&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;disturbed him;
-he had left his door ajar.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll listen for a few minutes and if she doesn&rsquo;t go to bed,
-I&rsquo;ll go down and shake her,&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;but above all else, tremendously excited.
-He lay still a little longer and then opened his door in time
-to hear that &ldquo;good-night, good-night&rdquo;; and presently
-Aunt Polly&rsquo;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>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s forgot to bank the fire.&rdquo; Northrup could see the
-glow from his post and remembered Uncle Peter&rsquo;s carefulness.
-&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll run down and make things safe and lock the
-door.&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;a disjointed and
-rather dramatic revealment&ndash;&ndash;was having a peculiar effect
-upon him. He had become aware of some important facts
-that accounted for things, such as Rivers&rsquo;s appearance on
-the Point. He had attributed that advent to Maclin&rsquo;s secret
-business; but it was, evidently, quite different.</p>
-<p>What had occurred in the yellow house before the final
-break? Northrup&rsquo;s imagination came to the fore fully
-equipped. Northrup was a man of the herd&ndash;&ndash;at least he
-had been, until lately. He knew the tracks of the herd and
-its laws and codes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The brute!&rdquo; he muttered under his breath; &ldquo;and that
-kind of a girl, too. Nothing is too fine for some devils to
-appropriate and&ndash;&ndash;smirch. Poor little girl!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;The cursed brute&ndash;&ndash;hasn&rsquo;t <i>got</i> her, thank God. She&rsquo;s out
-of the trap.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;t going to mess
-her life more&ndash;&ndash;but he&rsquo;d somehow make up to her what she&rsquo;d
-a perfect right to. All men were not low and bestial. He
-had a duty&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;but he was overcome
-by waves of emotion that had never before even
-lapped his feet.</p>
-<p>At that instant Mary-Clare&rsquo;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>&ldquo;She was asleep!&rdquo; he fiercely thought until he was safe
-behind his locked door!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Was she?&rdquo; He had to face that in the silence of the
-hours after. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll know when I next meet her.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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 d&eacute;butante shrinks beside her chaperon.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And that old beast&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Kathryn in the privacy of her
-bedchamber could speak quite openly to herself&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;that
-old beast, Doctor Manly, suggested that at forty I might be
-fat if&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; Well, it didn&rsquo;t matter about the &ldquo;if.&rdquo; 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>. &ldquo;A fat forty!
-Oh, good Lord!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Well, my body hasn&rsquo;t found it out yet!&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;fat-forty&rdquo; was a mere panic. She would
-not think of it&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;But he always gets a grubby hole to work in.&rdquo; Kathryn
-fidgeted. &ldquo;I daresay he is working now in some smudgy
-old place.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s smooth forehead.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! come in,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Aunt Anna&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Kathryn never indulged in graceful tact
-with her relations&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;Aunt Anna, how old <i>are</i> you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Anna Morris coloured, flinched, but smiled coyly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Forty-two, dear, but it was only yesterday that my dressmaker
-said that I should not tell that. It is not necessary,
-you know.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;I suppose not!&rdquo; Kathryn was regarding the fatness of
-the woman who was calmly setting the disorderly room to
-rights. &ldquo;Aunt Anna, why didn&rsquo;t you marry?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;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&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Anna Morris tittered&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;and some
-couldn&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;well, there
-was nothing for me to do but come here and help him out.
-One has plain duties. I always had sense enough&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Anna
-Morris moved about heavily&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;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&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;the dull
-eyes now confronted Kathryn&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;that there <i>is</i> a dangerous
-age for men and women. If they get through that alive
-and alone&ndash;&ndash;well, there is a kind of calm that comes.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I suppose so.&rdquo; Kathryn felt a sinking in the region of
-the heart. &ldquo;Are you ever lonely?&rdquo; she asked suddenly.
-&ldquo;Ever feel that you let your own life slip when you helped
-Father and me?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Anna Morris&rsquo;s lips trembled as they always did when any
-one was kind to her; but she got control of herself at once&ndash;&ndash;she
-could not afford the comfort of letting herself go!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t know. Yes; sometimes. But who isn&rsquo;t
-lonely at times? Marriage can&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;dear me! I&rsquo;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&rsquo;re as well placed one way as another. That is, if you are
-a woman.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn was looking unusually serious. While she was in
-this mood she clutched at seeming trifles and held them curiously.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What was Brace&rsquo;s father like?&rdquo; she suddenly asked.</p>
-<p>Anna Morris started.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why, what ails you, Kathie?&rdquo; she asked suspiciously.
-&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve never taken any interest before. Why should you?
-A young girl and all that&ndash;&ndash;why should you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Tell me, Aunt Anna. I&rsquo;ve often wondered.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she began slowly, tremblingly, &ldquo;he wasn&rsquo;t companionable
-at the last, but I shall always see <i>his</i> side. Helen
-Northrup is a fine woman&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;but a man
-like Thomas Northrup married a woman because she was
-the kind he wanted and he couldn&rsquo;t be expected to keep
-trace of all the kinds of women Helen Northrup ran into and&ndash;&ndash;out
-of!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you mean, Aunt Anna. Do talk
-sense.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn was almost excited. It was like reading what
-wasn&rsquo;t intended for innocent young girls to know.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, first, Helen Northrup was just like all loving young
-girls, I guess&ndash;&ndash;but when she didn&rsquo;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&rsquo;t <i>all</i> she expected, she
-ought to accept her lot and make the best of it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And Brace&rsquo;s mother started out to make her own lot? I
-see.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn nodded her head.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;t know what ailed her and I don&rsquo;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!&rdquo; Anna
-sniffed. &ldquo;A man can share with his children, but when it
-comes to giving up everything, well!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What did he do, Aunt Anna?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He went away.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;With a woman?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;One he just met when Mrs. Northrup became a mother?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He knew her before, but if Helen Northrup had been all
-she should have been to him&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I begin to see. And then?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, then he died and proved how noble he was at
-heart. When he went off, Helen Northrup wouldn&rsquo;t take a
-cent. She had a little of her own and she went to work and
-Brace helped when he grew older&ndash;&ndash;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.&rdquo; Poor Anna was in a trembling and ecstatic state.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I call him a&ndash;&ndash;just what he was!&rdquo; Kathryn was weary of
-the subject. &ldquo;I think Brace&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My dear, that&rsquo;s not a proper way for you to talk!&rdquo; Aunt
-Anna became the chaperon. &ldquo;Come, get dressed now,
-dearie. There&rsquo;s the luncheon, you know.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What luncheon?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why, with Mr. Arnold, my dear, and he included me, too!
-Such a sweet fellow he is, and so wise and thoughtful.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There had been a time when she and Sandy Arnold met
-clandestinely&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;what was it he said?&ndash;&ndash;oh, yes&ndash;&ndash;having the blood of
-the young on one&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-feet. She picked it up and handled it as if it were a tender
-baby that had bumped its nose.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It must be perfectly wonderful,&rdquo; she said, smoothing the
-book, &ldquo;to have an autographed copy of a novel. It&rsquo;s like
-having a lock of someone&rsquo;s hair. Where <i>is</i> Brace, Kathryn?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was unfortunate.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That is my business and his!&rdquo; Kathryn spoke slowly.
-Her eyes slanted and her lips hardened.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My darling, I beg your pardon!&rdquo; And once more Anna
-Morris was shoved into the groove where she belonged.</p>
-<p>Later that day, after the luncheon with Sandy&ndash;&ndash;Anna had
-been eliminated by a master stroke that reduced her to tears
-and left Sandy a victim to Kathryn&rsquo;s wiles&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;the woman&rsquo;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&rsquo;s soul for whatever part
-she played in her own life&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;unselfishly, of course&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I say, Mother, a lot of fellows at our school have fathers
-and mothers who live apart&ndash;&ndash;most of the fellows side with
-their mothers!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;really, in most
-cases&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;a friend indeed&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;Find out the truth about me!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;After all, it is so fleeting. I&rsquo;ll rest, take better care of
-myself. I&rsquo;m not so young as I was&ndash;&ndash;Nature is warning me;
-it may not be the other.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Why, my dearie-dear!&rdquo; exclaimed Kathryn, kneeling
-beside the couch. &ldquo;What <i>is</i> it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Nothing, dear child; nothing more than a vicious touch
-of neuralgia.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Have you seen Doctor Manly?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;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.&rdquo; Like a lightning flash Kathryn&rsquo;s
-nimble wits caught a possibility.</p>
-<p>Helen smiled. Then spoke slowly:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, my dear, when Brace comes home, I promise to see
-Doctor Manly. These attacks are severe&ndash;&ndash;but they pass
-quickly and there are long periods when I am absolutely
-free from them.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You mean, you have attacks?&rdquo; Kathryn looked appalled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes; off and on. That fact proves how unimportant
-they are.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Now if he is still there&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;thoughts ran like liquid fire
-in Kathryn&rsquo;s brain&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;<i>why</i> does he stay? It isn&rsquo;t far.&rdquo; She
-had made sure of that by road maps when the letter first
-came. &ldquo;I could motor out there and see!&rdquo; The liquid fire
-brought colour to the girl&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;and
-here the vivid pictures reeled on, familiarity had dulled
-things, long engagements were flattening&ndash;&ndash;Brace would at
-last see her as she was. She&rsquo;d forgive anything that might
-have happened&ndash;&ndash;of course, anything <i>might</i> have happened&ndash;&ndash;she,
-a woman of the world, understood.</p>
-<p>And&ndash;&ndash;Kathryn was brought to a sudden halt&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;her divine devotion.</p>
-<p>Presently Kathryn became aware of the fact that Helen
-Northrup had been speaking while the reel reeled!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And then that escapade of his when he was only seven.&rdquo;
-Helen patted the golden head beside her while her thoughts
-were back with her boy. &ldquo;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, &lsquo;I&rsquo;m going! I am really!&rsquo; and
-he went! I was, naturally, frightened, and ran after him&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;he told me all about it&ndash;&ndash;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!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn got up and walked about the room. She was
-staging another drama. Brace was now playing in puddles&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Kathryn, have you heard from Brace?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;No, dearie-dear,&rdquo; she said sweetly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;So you don&rsquo;t know just where he is?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How could I know, dearie thing?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>So they were not keeping things from her; shutting her out!
-Helen Northrup raised her head from the pillow.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re in the same boat, darling,&rdquo; she said, so glad to be
-in the same boat. &ldquo;Lately I&rsquo;ve had a few whim-whams.&rdquo;
-Helen felt she could be confidential. &ldquo;I suppose I am touching
-the outer circle of old age, and before it blinds me, I&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll be taking your sacrifice and calling it by its wrong name.
-You and Brace must marry. I half believe you&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll be having you both closer.
-Now, don&rsquo;t cry, little girl. I&rsquo;ve found you out and found
-myself, too!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn was shedding tears&ndash;&ndash;tears of gratitude for the
-material Helen was putting at her disposal.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;and the time isn&rsquo;t very long,
-no matter how you look at it&ndash;&ndash;so, darling, you and Brace
-must humour me, do the one big thing to make me happy&ndash;&ndash;you
-must be married!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn looked up. The tears hung to her long lashes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You want this?&rdquo; she faltered with quivering lips.</p>
-<p>Helen believed she understood at last.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My darling!&rdquo; she said tenderly, &ldquo;it is the one great
-longing of my heart.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll bet my last dollar,&rdquo; Twombley muttered, forgetting
-that his last dollar was a thing of the past, &ldquo;that this young
-feller will find out about those inventions. Inventions be
-damned! That&rsquo;s what I say. There&rsquo;s something going on
-at the mines that don&rsquo;t spell inventions.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was said to Peneluna who was aging under the strain
-of unaccustomed excitement.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;When he lands Maclin,&rdquo; she said savagely, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll grab
-Larry. Larry is a fool, but from way back, Maclin is the
-sinner. Queer&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;she gave a deep sigh&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;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&rsquo;t healthy.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Jan-an, untroubled by moral codes, was unconditionally
-on Northrup&rsquo;s side. She patched her gleanings into a vivid
-conclusion and announced, much to Peneluna&rsquo;s horror:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Supposin&rsquo; we are goin&rsquo; ter hell &rsquo;long of not knowin&rsquo;
-where we are goin&rsquo;, ain&rsquo;t it a lot pleasanter than the way we
-was traipsin&rsquo; before things began to happen?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Larry stole &rsquo;em!&rdquo; she had concluded from the first.
-&ldquo;What&rsquo;s old letters, anyway? But I&rsquo;ll get those letters if I
-die for it!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>She shamelessly ransacked Larry&rsquo;s possessions while she
-cleaned his disorderly shack, but no letters did she find.
-She became irritable and unmoral.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Lordy!&rdquo; she confided to Peneluna one day while they
-were preparing Larry&rsquo;s food, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t yer wish, Peneluna, that
-it wasn&rsquo;t evil to poison some folks&rsquo; grub?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peneluna paused and looked at the girl with startled
-eyes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;If you talk like that,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll hustle you into
-the almshouse.&rdquo; Then: &ldquo;Who would you like to do that
-to?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! folks as just clutter up life for decent folks. Maclin
-and Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, see here, Jan-an, that kind of talk is downright
-creepy and terrible wicked. Listen to me. Are you listening?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Jan-an nodded sullenly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;the Lord above
-knows what will happen; I don&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Jan-an was impressed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t making them notice me,&rdquo; she mumbled, &ldquo;but yer
-just can&rsquo;t take a joke.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Noreen and Jan-an, in those warm autumn days&ndash;&ndash;and
-what an autumn it was!&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;it blended with the
-twittering of the birds&ndash;&ndash;he heard Noreen&rsquo;s chuckle and
-Jan-an&rsquo;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>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re here,&rdquo; the strangely scrawled words informed
-him; &ldquo;me and Jan-an. We&rsquo;ve got something for you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>But Northrup held rigidly to his working hours and finally
-made an offer to his most persistent foes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;See here, you little beggars,&rdquo; he said, including the gaunt
-Jan-an in this, &ldquo;if you keep to the other side of the bridge,
-I&rsquo;ll tell you a story, once a day.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;She was not awake!&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;You never can tell when a favouring
-wind will right things again,&rdquo; Polly remarked. She cared
-more for Mary-Clare than anything else.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Or upset &rsquo;em,&rdquo; Peter added. He had his mind fixed
-upon Maclin.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, brother, sailing safe, or struggling in the water, it
-won&rsquo;t help matters to stir up the mud.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-cleaning up the Cosey Bar? He thinks maybe he&rsquo;s going
-to be attacked from that quarter. Then, again, he&rsquo;s been
-offering work to the men around here&ndash;&ndash;and he&rsquo;s letting
-out that he never understood our side of things rightly and
-that he&rsquo;s listening to Larry&ndash;&ndash;get that, Polly?&ndash;&ndash;listening to
-Larry and letting <i>him</i> make the folks on the Point get
-on to the fact that he&rsquo;s their friend. Gosh! Maclin their
-friend.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t tell me,&rdquo; said a downtrodden wife of one of
-Maclin&rsquo;s men, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;God!&rdquo; said the speaker of the Cosey Bar, &ldquo;what&rsquo;s coming
-to the world, anyhow? There ain&rsquo;t any rest and peace nowheres,
-and when it comes to women taking to naming
-terms, I say it&rsquo;s time for us to stand for our rights fierce.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin had delicately and indirectly set forth Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-&ldquo;terms&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;school&rdquo; sessions.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s like tossing all kinds of feed to a flock of birds,&rdquo;
-he told Aunt Polly, &ldquo;and letting the little devils pick as they
-can.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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,&rdquo; Aunt Polly replied, &ldquo;and it makes <i>me</i> smile to
-notice how folks as ain&rsquo;t above saying lies about Mary-Clare
-can trust their children to her teaching.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! well, lies are soon killed,&rdquo; Northrup returned, but
-his smile vanished.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was often troubled by Larry&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I do say,&rdquo; Twombley confided to Peneluna, &ldquo;it don&rsquo;t seem
-nater for a woman not to grieve and fuss at such goings on.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peneluna tossed her head and sneezed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t ever understood,&rdquo; she broke in, &ldquo;why a woman
-should fuss and break herself on account of a man doing
-what he oughtn&rsquo;t ter do. Let <i>him</i> do the fussing and breaking.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She might try and save him.&rdquo; Twombley, like all the
-male Forest, was stirred at what he could not understand.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Women have got their hands full of other things&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Peneluna
-sneezed again as if the dust of ages was stifling her&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;and
-I do say that after a woman does save a man, she&rsquo;s
-often too worn out to enjoy her savings.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>And Larry, carefully dressed, living alone and to all appearances
-brave and steady, simply, according to Maclin&rsquo;s
-ordering, &ldquo;let out more sheet rope&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;There is just one ledge of rocks for her kind,&rdquo; said Maclin.
-&ldquo;You keep yourself clear and safe, Rivers, and watch
-the wreck.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;and Northrup had pictured it all from memories of his
-boyhood&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;But she ought not to be permitted to think all men are
-like Rivers!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;so he flung caution to the winds.</p>
-<p>There were nutting parties for the children&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;though
-he did not own it&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Books are like people,&rdquo; Mary-Clare said one day&ndash;&ndash;she
-was watching Northrup build a campfire and the last bit of
-sunlight fell full upon her&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;the words are the costumes.&rdquo;
-She had marked the surprised look in Northrup&rsquo;s eyes as she
-quoted rather a bald sentiment from an old book.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, of course, and that&rsquo;s sound reasoning.&rdquo; For a moment
-Northrup felt as though a clear north wind were blowing
-away the dust in an overlooked corner of his mind.
-&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s rather staggering to find that you read French,&rdquo;
-he added, for the quotation had been literally translated.
-&ldquo;You do, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I do, a little. I&rsquo;m taking it up again for Noreen.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Noreen&rsquo;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>&ldquo;She is afraid!&rdquo; he thought. &ldquo;Rivers has left his mark
-upon her mind, damn him!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I study nights&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare was speaking quite as if
-fear had no part in her thought&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;French, mathematics&ndash;&ndash;all
-the hard things that went in and&ndash;&ndash;stuck.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hard things do stick, don&rsquo;t they?&rdquo; Northrup hated the
-pushed-aside feeling.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Terribly. But my doctor was adamant about hard
-things. He used to say that I&rsquo;d learn to love chipping off the
-rough corners.&rdquo; Here Mary-Clare laughed, and the sound
-set Northrup&rsquo;s nerves a-tingle as the clear notes of music did.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I can see myself now, Mr. Northrup, sitting behind my
-doctor on his horse, my book flattened out against his back.
-I&rsquo;d ask questions; he&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed aloud. He edged away from his isolation
-and said:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Your doctor was a remarkable man. His memory lives
-in the Forest; it&rsquo;s about the most vital thing here. It and all
-that preserves it.&rdquo; His eyes rested upon Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. He was wonderful. Lately he seems more alive
-than ever. He had such simple rules of life&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;t, get over it
-at once; never waste time&ndash;&ndash;live as soon as possible.&rdquo; Was
-there a note of warning in the words?</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And you&rsquo;re doing it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>An understanding look passed between them.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Mr. Northrup, for Noreen.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Back went Northrup to his place with a dull thud! Then
-Mary-Clare hurried to a safer subject.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re rather like a strange growth yourself,&rdquo; he said
-daringly.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare smiled gaily.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to blame my old doctor for that,&rdquo; she said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Or bless him,&rdquo; Northrup broke in.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s better, if it is true.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s tremendously true.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;A book&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;again that elusive push&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;must be a great
-responsibility. Once you put your thoughts and words down
-and send them out&ndash;&ndash;there you are!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. Good Lord! There you are.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I knew that you would feel that way about it and that
-is why I would like to hear you talk of it. It&rsquo;s a story, isn&rsquo;t
-it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, a story.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You can reach further with a story.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I suppose so. You do not have to knuckle down to
-rules. You can let your vision have a say, and your feelings.&rdquo;
-Northrup, seeing that his book must play a part,
-accepted that fact.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I suppose&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare was looking wistfully up at
-Northrup&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;all the people in your books work out what you
-believe is truth. I can always <i>feel</i> truth in a book&ndash;&ndash;or the
-lack of it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>In the near distance Noreen and Jan-an were gathering
-wood. They were singing and shouting lustily.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;May I sit on your log?&rdquo; Northrup spoke hurriedly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; and Mary-Clare moved a little. &ldquo;The sun&rsquo;s
-gone,&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s quite dark in the valley.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s still light here&ndash;&ndash;and there&rsquo;s the fire.&rdquo; Northrup was
-watching the face beside him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, the fire, and presently the moon rising, just over
-there.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Restraint lay between the two on the mossy log. They
-both resented it.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You know, you must know, that I&rsquo;d rather have you
-share my book than any one else.&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;I wonder why?&rdquo; Mary-Clare kept her face turned away.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, you are so phenomenally keen. You know such a
-lot.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s just it. You <i>feel</i> life. It isn&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-why you&rsquo;d be such a ripping critic. Will you let me read
-some of my book to you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! of course. I&rsquo;d be so glad and proud.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Come, now, you&rsquo;re not joking?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The large golden eyes turned slowly and rested upon
-Northrup.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I do not think I ever joke&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare&rsquo;s words fell
-softly&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;about such things. Why, it would seem like seeing a
-soul get into a body. You do not joke about that.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You make me horribly afraid about my book. People do
-not usually take the writing of a book in just that way.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wish they did. You see, my doctor often said that
-books would live if they only held truth. He loved these
-words, &lsquo;And above all else&ndash;&ndash;Truth taketh away the victory!&rsquo;
-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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But who knows Truth?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There is something in us that knows it. Don&rsquo;t you think
-so?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But we see it so differently.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That does not matter, if we know it! Truth is fixed
-and sure. Isn&rsquo;t that so?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I do not know. Sometimes I think so: then&ndash;&ndash;good Lord!
-that is what I&rsquo;m trying to find out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup&rsquo;s face grew tense.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And so am I.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, then, let&rsquo;s go on the quest together!&rdquo; Northrup
-stood up and offered his hand to Mary-Clare as if actually
-they were to start on the pilgrimage. &ldquo;Where and when
-may I begin to read to you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The children were coming nearer.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;While this weather lasts, I&rsquo;d love the open. Wouldn&rsquo;t
-you? Logs, like this, are such perfect places.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I thought perhaps&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Northrup looked what he dared
-not voice&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;I thought perhaps in that cabin of yours we
-might be more comfortable, more undisturbed.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare smiled and shook her head.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, I think it would be impossible. That cabin is too
-full&ndash;&ndash;well, I&rsquo;m sure I could not listen as I should, to you, in
-that cabin.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;for she was timid and naturally distrustful
-of herself&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Why are you stopping?&rdquo; Mary-Clare would ask at such
-lapses.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My writing is diabolical!&rdquo; Northrup lied.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! I&rsquo;m sorry. The stops give me a jog. Go on.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I want to think it out with my woman-brain,&rdquo; she laughingly
-explained. &ldquo;When you read right at this spot&ndash;&ndash;well,
-you see, it doesn&rsquo;t seem clear. When I have thought it out
-alone, then I will tell you and be&ndash;&ndash;oh! very bold.&rdquo;</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. &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he
-devoutly thought, &ldquo;thank God, I have started no conflagration.&rdquo;</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 &ldquo;as other men.&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;Like other men?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;his impulse was to
-test it. It threatened his exalted state now.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s quite mysterious, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare sat down on her end of the log and looked up,
-her eyes twinkling.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What is mysterious?&rdquo; Northrup took his place. The
-log was not a long one.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The way we manage to meet.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s been nearly a week since I saw you,&rdquo; he said, and let
-his eyes rest upon Mary-Clare&rsquo;s face.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, nearly a week,&rdquo; she said softly, &ldquo;but it took me all
-that time to make up my mind.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;About what?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Your book.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup had forgotten, for the moment, his book, and
-he resented its introduction.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Damn the book!&rdquo; he thought. Aloud he said: &ldquo;Of course!
-You were going to tell me where I have fallen down.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I hope you are not making a joke of it&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-face flushed&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;but even if you are, I am going to tell you
-what I think. I must, you know.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s awfully good of you&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Northrup became earnest&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;but
-it doesn&rsquo;t matter now, I am going away. Let us talk
-of something else.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Then, there is all the more reason why I must tell you
-what I think,&rdquo; she said at last.</p>
-<p>The words came like sharp detached particles; they hurt.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We must talk about the book!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; he murmured, and turned his face away.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s your woman,&rdquo; Mary-Clare began with a sharp catching
-of her breath as if she had been running. &ldquo;Your woman
-is not real.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You put <i>your</i> words in your woman&rsquo;s mouth,&rdquo; Mary-Clare
-was saying.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And whose words, pray, should I put there?&rdquo; Northrup
-asked huskily.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You must let her speak for herself.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;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?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Go on, please,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;You think I&rsquo;ve ended
-my woman by letting her do what any woman in real life
-would do?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All women would not do what your woman does. Such
-women end men!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was audacious, but it caught Northrup&rsquo;s imagination.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; he muttered lamely.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do you think love is everything to a woman?&rdquo; Mary-Clare
-demanded ferociously.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It is the biggest thing!&rdquo; Northrup was up in arms to
-defend his code and his work.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You think it could wipe out honour, all the things that
-meant honour to her?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Love conquers everything for a woman.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Does it for a man?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup tried to fling out the affirmative, but he hedged.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Largely, yes.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;t
-a right to it; when you&rsquo;d be stealing it; letting other sacred
-things go for it&ndash;&ndash;then you would be killing love. But if you
-honour it, even if it is lonely and often sad, it lives and lives
-and&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You are crying&ndash;&ndash;suffering,&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;And&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! please wait&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;the deep sobs shook the girl&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;you
-must wait. I&rsquo;ll try to&ndash;&ndash;to make you see. I was awake that
-night at the inn&ndash;&ndash;that is why I&ndash;&ndash;trust you now! Why I want
-you to&ndash;&ndash;to understand.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>She seemed pleading with him&ndash;&ndash;it made him wince; she
-was calling forth his best to help her weakest.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Your book&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare gripped that again&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;your
-book is a beautiful, live thing&ndash;&ndash;we must keep it so! Your
-man has grown and grown through every page until he quite
-naturally believed he was able to&ndash;&ndash;to do more than any
-man can ever do! Why, this is your chance to be different,
-stronger.&rdquo; The quick, panting words ran into each other
-and then Mary-Clare controlled them while, unheeded, the
-tears rolled down her cheeks. &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;free and begin again. If it is right&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Mary-Clare. If it is right, what then?&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s, wiped her eyes,
-and then&ndash;&ndash;let it fall again into his!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I can see clearer now,&rdquo; she faltered. &ldquo;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>&ndash;&ndash;we cannot act as if&ndash;&ndash;oh! you do understand,
-I know you do, and some day you will go on with your
-beautiful book.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And the end of my book, Mary-Clare? There must be
-an end.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;I do not know. I do not think a great big book ever
-ends any more than life ends.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You do not know life, nor men, nor women,&rdquo; he said
-huskily and clutched her hands in his. &ldquo;If life cheats and
-injures you, you have a right to snatch what joy you can.
-It&rsquo;s not only what you do to love, but what you do to yourself,
-that counts. For real love can stand anything.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, it cannot!&rdquo; Mary-Clare tried to draw away, but she
-felt the hold tighten on her hands; &ldquo;it cannot stand dishonour.
-That&rsquo;s what kills it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Dishonour! What <i>is</i> dishonour?&rdquo; Northrup asked bitterly.
-&ldquo;I&rsquo;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.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s voice, shrilly singing one of the songs Northrup had
-taught her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I mean by honour,&rdquo; Mary-Clare whispered.
-&ldquo;Noreen and all that she is! You, you <i>do</i> understand about
-some women, don&rsquo;t you? You will help, not hurt, such
-women, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;For God&rsquo;s sake, Mary-Clare, don&rsquo;t!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup bent and touched his lips to the small work-stained
-hands. The song down the trail rose joyously.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I have thought of you&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare was catching her
-breath sharply&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;as Noreen has&ndash;&ndash;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; Northrup shivered and flinched as a cold, wet
-leaf fell upon his hands and Mary-Clare&rsquo;s.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;The wind is changing,&rdquo; said the woman. &ldquo;The lovely
-autumn has been kind and has stayed long.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My dear, my dear&ndash;&ndash;don&rsquo;t!&rdquo; Northrup pleaded.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! but I must. You see I want you to think back,
-as I shall&ndash;&ndash;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.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;to
-accept the commonplace, turn and face life as one turns
-from a grave that hides a beautiful thing.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You have never been to the city?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was nothing to do but resort to words. Superficial,
-foolish words.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, once. On my wedding trip.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was unfortunate, but words without thought are wild
-things.</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare hurried along while visions of Larry&rsquo;s city
-rose like smiting rebukes to her heedlessness. Cheap theatres,
-noisy restaurants, gaudy lights.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My dear doctor and I always planned going together,&rdquo;
-she said brokenly. &ldquo;I believe there are many cities in the
-city. One has to find his city for himself.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s exactly what one does.&rdquo; Northrup closed his
-hand closer over the dead-cold one in his grasp.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Your city, it must be wonderful.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It will be a haunted city, Mary-Clare.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Tell me about it. And tell me a little, if you don&rsquo;t mind,
-about your people.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The bravery was almost heart-breaking, it caused Northrup&rsquo;s
-lips to set grimly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There is my mother,&rdquo; he replied.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad. You love her very much?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Very much. She&rsquo;s wonderful. My father died long
-ago.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare did not ask whether he loved his father or not,
-and she hurried on:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup struggled with himself. The girl beside him, in
-pushing him from her life, was so unutterably sweet and
-brave.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My dear, my dear!&rdquo; he whispered, and remorse, pity,
-yearning rang in the words.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Make it like a picture!&rdquo; Relentlessly the words were
-repeated. They demanded that he give his best.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Think of a high little room in a tall tower overlooking
-all cities,&rdquo; he began slowly, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare&rsquo;s eyes were wide and vision-filled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! thank you,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;to wish you well!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; Northrup shook himself. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s got us
-two? We&rsquo;ve worked ourselves into a pretty state. Talking
-as, as if&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare, I&rsquo;m not going away. There will be
-other days. It&rsquo;s that book of mine. Hang it! We&rsquo;ve got
-snarled in the book.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The weak efforts to ignore everything failed pitifully.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, it is life.&rdquo; Mary-Clare grew grim as Northrup
-relaxed. &ldquo;But I want you always to remember my old
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span>
-doctor&rsquo;s rule. If a thing is going to kill you, die bravely; if it
-isn&rsquo;t, get over it at once and live the best you can.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;God bless and keep you, Mary-Clare.&rdquo; Absolute surrender
-marked the tone.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He will!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But this is not good-bye!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, it is not good-bye.&rdquo;</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&rsquo; 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&rsquo;s
-business with his usual reticence and devotion; occasionally
-he was away for a few days; when he was at home in Peneluna&rsquo;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&rsquo;s son, was
-becoming irritable and jerky. Jan-an shrank from her and
-whimpered:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What have I done? Ain&rsquo;t I fetching and carrying for
-him?&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;she nodded heavily toward Larry&rsquo;s abiding place.
-&ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t I watching and telling yer all that he does? Writing
-and tearing up what he writes! Ain&rsquo;t I showing you his
-scraps what don&rsquo;t get burned? Ain&rsquo;t I acting square?&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></div>
-<p>Peneluna softened.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, you are!&rdquo; she admitted. &ldquo;But I declare, after
-finding nothing agin him, one gets to wondering if there <i>is</i>
-anything agin him. I don&rsquo;t like suspecting my feller
-creatures.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Suspectin&rsquo; ain&rsquo;t like murdering!&rdquo; Jan-an blurted out.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t stop talking like that, Jan-an&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; But
-Peneluna paused, for she saw the frightened look creeping
-into Jan-an&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-fascinated Jan-an.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What yer going to shoot?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Ducks, maybe.&rdquo; Twombley leered pleasantly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wish yer wouldn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why, Jan-an?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Ducks ain&rsquo;t so used to it as chickens. I hate to see
-flying things as <i>can</i> fly popped over.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>At this Twombley laughed aloud.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, girl, I&rsquo;ll hunt up something else to aim at&ndash;&ndash;something
-that&rsquo;s used to it. I ain&rsquo;t saying I&rsquo;ll hit anything,
-but aimin&rsquo; and finding out how steady yer hand is ain&rsquo;t
-lacking in sport.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s new amusement.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What in thunder are you up to?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Not much&ndash;&ndash;yet!&rdquo; Twombley admitted. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t hit the
-hole more than once out of four.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But the noise is bad for folks, Twombley.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They like it,&rdquo; Twombley broke in. &ldquo;Makes &rsquo;em jump
-and know they&rsquo;re alive. It&rsquo;s like fleas on dogs.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;When I&rsquo;m talking business with Rivers,&rdquo; Twombley
-insisted, &ldquo;I hate the racket.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, when I see you there, I&rsquo;ll hold off.&rdquo;</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 &ldquo;use his eyes.&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m like a rat in a hole,&rdquo; Larry confided, despairing of
-shaking Maclin off. &ldquo;I wish to God you&rsquo;d send me away
-somewhere&ndash;&ndash;overseas, if you can. You once promised
-that.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin&rsquo;s eyes contracted, but it was too dark for Rivers
-to notice.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Too late, just now, Rivers. That hell of a time they&rsquo;re
-having over there keeps peaceful folks to their own waters.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Sometimes&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Larry grew moody&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve thought I&rsquo;d like
-to tumble into that mess and either&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo; Abruptly Maclin caught Rivers up.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! go under or&ndash;&ndash;come to the top.&rdquo; This was to laugh&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;What in thunder do you lock this old rookery up for?&rdquo;
-Maclin asked, stumbling over a chair.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got a notion lately that folks peep and pry. I&rsquo;ve
-seen footprints around the house.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, why shouldn&rsquo;t they pry and tramp about? The
-Point&rsquo;s getting dippy. And that blasted gun of Twombley&rsquo;s!
-See here, Rivers!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re getting nervous and twisted, Rivers.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The two sat down by the paper-strewn table.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, who wouldn&rsquo;t?&rdquo; snapped Rivers. &ldquo;Hiding in this
-junk, knowing that your wife&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; he paused abruptly,
-but Maclin nodded sympathetically. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s hell, Maclin.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Sure! Got anything to drink?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry went to the closet and brought out a bottle and
-glasses.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;This helps!&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;he
-had to do this in order to adjust his fat and put his hands in
-his pockets.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Larry, I want to tell you that you won&rsquo;t have to hide in
-your hole much longer. I&rsquo;m one too many for that fellow
-Northrup. I hold the cards now.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The devil you do!&rdquo; Rivers&rsquo;s eyes brightened.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir. He wants the Point, old man, and the Heathcotes
-gave him the knowledge that your wife owns it. He&rsquo;s
-getting her where he can handle her. Damn shame, I say&ndash;&ndash;using
-a woman and taking advantage of her weak side.
-If we don&rsquo;t act spry he&rsquo;ll get what he wants.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry&rsquo;s face flushed a purple-red.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, Maclin? Talk out straight and
-clear.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I weigh it this way and that. Northrup might&ndash;&ndash;I
-hate to use brutal terms&ndash;&ndash;he might compromise your wife
-and get her to sell and shut him up, or he might get her so
-bedazzled that she&rsquo;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&rsquo;s carrying such a big cargo
-of learning and fancy rot that she can&rsquo;t properly sail. That
-kind gets stranded <i>always</i>, Larry. They just naturally <i>make</i>
-for rocks.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;What in all that&rsquo;s holy do you&ndash;&ndash;this Northrup&ndash;&ndash;any one,
-want this damned Point for?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin was rarely in a position to fence with Rivers, but
-he was now.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; Rivers could not stand delay.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I have, Larry. I&rsquo;m an old sentimentalist, when
-you know me proper. I took a fancy to you, and while I
-can&rsquo;t show my feelings as many can, I have stood by you
-and you&rsquo;ve been a proposition, off and on. I bought those
-mines because I saw the chance they offered, and I shared
-with you. I&rsquo;ve got big men interested. I&rsquo;ve let you carry
-results to them&ndash;&ndash;but the results are slow, Rivers, and they&rsquo;re
-getting restive. I&rsquo;m afraid some one of them has blabbed
-and this Northrup is the result. Why, man, I&rsquo;ve got inventions
-over at the mines that will revolutionize this rotten,
-lazy Forest. I wanted to win the folks&ndash;&ndash;but they wouldn&rsquo;t
-be won. I wanted to save them in spite of themselves, but
-damn &rsquo;em, they won&rsquo;t be saved. In a year I could make
-Heathcote a rich man, if he&rsquo;d wake up and <i>keep</i> an inn instead
-of a kennel. But I&rsquo;ve got to have this Point. I want
-to build a bridge from here to the railroad property on the
-other shore&ndash;&ndash;this is the narrowest part of the lake; I want
-to build cottages here, instead of&ndash;&ndash;of rat holes. I&rsquo;ve got
-to get this Point by hook or crook&ndash;&ndash;and I can&rsquo;t shilly-shally
-with this Northrup on to the game.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Suddenly, while he was talking, Maclin&rsquo;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>&ldquo;What are these?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
-<p>Larry started guiltily.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Old letters,&rdquo; he said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What you doing with them?&rdquo; As he spoke Maclin was
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span>
-sorting and arranging the papers&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Playing the old game, eh?&rdquo; Maclin scowled. &ldquo;I thought
-you&rsquo;d had enough of that, after&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;For God&rsquo;s sake, Maclin, shut up.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Been carrying these mementos around with you all these
-years?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin was reading a letter of Larry&rsquo;s father&ndash;&ndash;an old one.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, I brought them with me from the old house. Mary-Clare
-had them, but they were mine.&rdquo; Larry&rsquo;s face was
-white and set into hard lines.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Sure, so I see.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s
-handwriting bearing a new form of expression&ndash;&ndash;there was no
-original of this. Maclin made sure of that. He read this
-new form once, twice, three times.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;If the time should ever come, my girl, when you and
-Larry could not agree, he&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin puffed out his cheeks. They looked like a child&rsquo;s
-red balloon. &ldquo;What in hell!&rdquo; he ejaculated.</p>
-<p>Larry&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you understand?&rdquo; he whispered through dry lips.
-&ldquo;I want to outwit them. I&rsquo;m as keen as you, Maclin, and
-I&rsquo;m working for you, old man, working for you! I was going
-to take this to her&ndash;&ndash;she&rsquo;ll do anything when she reads that&ndash;&ndash;and
-I was going to tell her why the old man stood by me.
-That would shut her mouth and make her pay.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There is in the shield of every man a weak spot. There
-was one in the shield of Maclin&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Are any of these things real?&rdquo; he asked with a rough
-catch in his voice; &ldquo;and don&rsquo;t lie to me&ndash;&ndash;it wouldn&rsquo;t be
-healthy.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You got your wife by letting her think your old father
-wanted it, wrote about it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. I had to outwit them some way. I was just free
-and couldn&rsquo;t choose. They had no right to cut me out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, by God, you <i>are</i> a rotter, Rivers.&rdquo; The lines
-at which criminals balk are confusing. &ldquo;And she never
-guessed?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, she&rsquo;d never seen Father&rsquo;s writing in letters.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then Maclin&rsquo;s outraged virtue took a curious turn.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And you never cared for her after you got her?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I might have if she&rsquo;d been the right sort&ndash;&ndash;but she&rsquo;s as
-hard as flint, Maclin. A man can&rsquo;t stand her sort and keep
-his own self-respect.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin indulged in a weak laugh at this and Larry&rsquo;s face
-burned.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I might have gone straight if she&rsquo;d been square, but she
-wasn&rsquo;t. A man can&rsquo;t put up with her type. And now&ndash;&ndash;well!
-She ought to pay now.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin was gripping the loose sheets in his fat, greasy
-hands.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hold on there.&rdquo; Larry pointed. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re getting them
-creased and dirty!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Again Maclin laughed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll leave enough copy,&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;I told you after you got out
-of prison, Rivers, that I&rsquo;d never stand for any more of that
-counterfeiting stuff. It&rsquo;s too risky, and the talent can be put
-to better purpose. I&rsquo;ve stood by you, I like you, and I need
-you. When we all pony up you&rsquo;ll get your share&ndash;&ndash;I mean
-when we build up the Forest, you&rsquo;ll have a fat berth, but
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span>
-you&rsquo;ve got to play a card now for me and play it damn quick.
-Here, take this gem of yours&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;he tossed Larry&rsquo;s latest
-production to him&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;you want the Point!
-You&rsquo;ve got her cornered, Rivers. She can&rsquo;t escape. If she
-tries to, hurl Northrup at her.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry wiped his lips with his hot hand.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t quite finished this,&rdquo; he muttered; &ldquo;it will take
-a day or two.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rivers, if you try any funny work on me&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; Maclin
-looked dangerous. He felt the fear that comes from not
-trusting those he must use.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to double-cross you, Maclin.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Here, take a nifter.&rdquo; Maclin pushed the bottle toward
-Rivers. &ldquo;You look all in,&rdquo; he ventured.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I am, just about.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, after this piece of business, I&rsquo;ll send you off for
-as long as you want to stay. You need a change.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry revived after a moment or two and some colour crept
-into his cheeks.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going now,&rdquo; Maclin said, getting up and releasing the
-tools of Larry&rsquo;s trade. &ldquo;Better get a good night&rsquo;s rest and
-be fresh for to-morrow. A day or so won&rsquo;t count, so long as
-we understand the game. Good-night!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;well! at that thought Maclin felt
-his blood run riotously in his veins. Glory! Glory! His
-name ringing out into fame.</p>
-<p>But!&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;God
-indeed!&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;they had been wallowing in beer for
-hours; the man at the bar drew forth a bottle of whiskey&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s Forest bear sanctifying fruits, not draughts
-of wormwood.</p>
-<p>Something rather big had happened to him&ndash;&ndash;he must not
-permit it to become small. He recalled Mary-Clare&rsquo;s words
-and face and a great tenderness swept over him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Poor little girl,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;part of a commonplace,
-dingy tragedy. What is there for her? But what could I
-have done for her, in God&rsquo;s name, to better her lot? She
-saw it clear enough.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll wait until this marvellous spell of weather breaks,&rdquo;
-he compromised with his lesser&ndash;&ndash;or better&ndash;&ndash;self. &ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll
-beat it!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Looking to this he asked Uncle Peter what the chances
-were of a cold spell.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There was a time&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Peter sniffed the air. He was
-husking golden corn by the kitchen fire&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;when I could calculate
-about the weather, but since the weather man has got
-to meddling he&rsquo;s messed things considerable. He&rsquo;s put in
-the Middle States, and what-not, until it&rsquo;s like doing subtraction
-and division&ndash;&ndash;and by that time the change of weather
-is on you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, getting up and stretching, &ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ll
-take a turn before I go to bed. Bank the fire, Uncle Peter;
-I may prowl late.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Heathcote asked no questions, but those prowls of Northrup&rsquo;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>&ldquo;All right, son,&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;what?</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That young beast of a husband!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;What for?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This brought a hurtling mass of conclusions.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Now, sir,&rdquo; he had confided to Northrup at a recent meeting,
-&ldquo;there&rsquo;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&rsquo;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!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s hovel, but for the rest, darkness!</p>
-<p>Oddly enough, Northrup passed Twombley&rsquo;s place without
-halting, and presently found himself nearing Rivers&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-consciousness and made him think, as they always did,
-of Maclin&rsquo;s determination to get possession of the ugly place.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It is the very devil!&rdquo; he muttered, almost tumbling over
-a smelly pile. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; He crouched in the darkness.
-His eyes were so accustomed to the gloom now that
-he saw quite distinctly the door of Peneluna&rsquo;s shack open,
-close softly, and someone tiptoeing toward Rivers&rsquo;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&rsquo;s empty house, peeping, listening, and
-then finally muttering and whimpering.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, what in thunder!&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s movements.</p>
-<p>Jan-an wore an old coat, a man&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Jan-an,&rdquo; he said quietly, controllingly, &ldquo;let me in. You
-can trust me. Let me in.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Now, then,&rdquo; he said, sitting opposite to the girl who
-dropped, rather than seated herself, in her old place. &ldquo;Jan-an,
-what are you up to?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>To his surprise, the girl burst into tears.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My God,&rdquo; she moaned, &ldquo;what did I have feelin&rsquo;s for&ndash;&ndash;and
-no sense? I can&rsquo;t read!&rdquo; she blurted. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t read.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was puzzling, but Northrup saw that the girl had
-confidence in him&ndash;&ndash;a desperate, unknowing confidence that
-had grown slowly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why do you want to read, Jan-an?&rdquo; he asked in a low,
-kindly tone.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I know you ain&rsquo;t his friend, are you?&rdquo; The wet, pitiful
-face was lifted. Old fears and distrust rose grimly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Whose?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maclin&rsquo;s, ole divil-man Maclin?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Certainly not! You know better than to ask that,
-Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Nor his&ndash;&ndash;Larry Rivers?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, I am not his friend.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Thus reassured once more, Jan-an ventured nearer:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t aim to hurt&ndash;&ndash;her?&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Whom do you mean?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;I mean them&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare and Noreen.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hurt them? Why, Jan-an, I&rsquo;d do anything to help them,
-make them safe and happy.&rdquo; Northrup felt as if he and
-the girl opposite were rapidly becoming accomplices in a
-tense plot. &ldquo;What does all this mean?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;As God seeing yer, yer mean that?&rdquo; Jan-an leaned
-forward.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;God seeing me! Yes, Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yer ain&rsquo;t hanging around her to do her&ndash;&ndash;dirt?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good Lord, no!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s them?&rdquo; she demanded huskily. Northrup
-brought the smelly kerosene lamp nearer and as he read he
-was conscious of Jan-an&rsquo;s mutterings.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Stealing her letters&ndash;&ndash;what is letters, anyway? And I&rsquo;ve
-counted and watched&ndash;&ndash;he&rsquo;s took one to her to-night. Just
-one. One he has made. Writing day in and out&ndash;&ndash;tearing
-up writing&ndash;&ndash;sneaking and lying. God! And new letters
-looking like old ones, till I&rsquo;m fair crazy.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>For a few moments Northrup lost the sound of Jan-an&rsquo;s
-guttural whimpers, then he caught the words:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And her crying and wanting the letters. Just letters!&rdquo;
-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&rsquo;s property and reading
-another&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Some day I will read my old doctor&rsquo;s letters to you&ndash;&ndash;I
-have kept them all!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s. Were these
-Mary-Clare&rsquo;s letters? Why were they here and in this state?</p>
-<p>Suddenly Northrup&rsquo;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;She set a store by them old letters,&rdquo; Jan-an was rambling
-along. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d have taken them back to her, but I &rsquo;clar, &rsquo;fore
-God, I don&rsquo;t know which is which, I&rsquo;m that cluttered. Why
-did he want to pest her by taking them and then making more
-and more?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m trying to find out.&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;So he&rsquo;s this kind of a scoundrel!&rdquo; muttered Northrup,
-dazed by the blinding shock of the fear that became, moment
-by moment, more definite. &ldquo;And he&rsquo;s taken the thing to her
-in order to get money.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right, Jan-an,&rdquo; he comforted, patting the unkempt
-head.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Are them the letters he stole?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Some of them, yes, Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Kin I take &rsquo;em back to her?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Not to-night. I think Rivers will take them back.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;S&rsquo;pose he won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He will.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You, you&rsquo;re going to fetch him one?&rdquo; The instinct of
-the savage rose in the girl.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;If necessary, yes!&rdquo; Northrup shared the primitive instinct
-at that moment. &ldquo;And now you trot along home, my
-girl, and don&rsquo;t open your lips to any one.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll wait for Mr. Larry Rivers here!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; Jan-an burst forth. Then: &ldquo;There&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Thanks, Jan-an. Go now.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I may kill a flock of birds by one interview,&rdquo; Northrup
-grimly thought and then drifted off on Maclin&rsquo;s trail. The
-ever-recurring wonder about the Point was intensified; he
-must leave that still in doubt.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll get the damned thing in my own control, if I can,&rdquo; he
-concluded at length. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>But to own the Point meant to hold on to King&rsquo;s Forest
-just when he had decided to turn from it forever&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;it was close upon midnight and vitality
-ran sluggish&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;or was it hours?&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo; den! It put a
-new light on that peculiar quality of Mary-Clare. She had
-never been burnt or wounded&ndash;&ndash;not the real woman of her.
-That explained the maddening thing about her&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s eyes, accustomed to the gloom,
-marked his unsteady gait; smiled as Larry, unconscious of
-his presence, sank into a chair&ndash;&ndash;the one in which Jan-an
-had sat&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Hello, Rivers! I&rsquo;m something of a surprise, eh?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hell!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Oh! don&rsquo;t take it too seriously, Rivers.&rdquo; Northrup felt
-a decent sympathy for the fellow across the table; his fear was
-agonizing. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You damned&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Of course, Rivers,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t have broken
-into your house and read your letters if there wasn&rsquo;t something
-rather big-sized at stake. So do not switch off on a siding&ndash;&ndash;let&rsquo;s
-get through with this.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;caught! caught!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;In God&rsquo;s name,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;who are you, anyway?
-What are you after?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I&rsquo;m here to tell you, Rivers.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Go ahead then, go ahead!&rdquo; Larry again moistened his
-dry lips&ndash;&ndash;he felt that he was choking. He was ready to turn
-state&rsquo;s evidence as soon as he saw an opportunity. Debonair
-and clever, crafty and unfaithful, Larry had but one clear
-thought&ndash;&ndash;he would not go behind bars again if one avenue of
-escape remained open!</p>
-<p>Maclin&ndash;&ndash;Maclin&rsquo;s secret business, loomed high, but at that
-moment Mary-Clare held no part in his desperate fear.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then, as if falling into his mood, Northrup said calmly:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;First, I want the Point.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;Maclin had made a tool of him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t own the Point.&rdquo; Rivers heard his own voice
-as if from a distance. He had Mary-Clare&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I think after we&rsquo;ve finished with our talk you can prevail
-upon your wife to sell the Point to me and say nothing
-about it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Rivers clutched the edge of the table. To his inflamed
-brain Northrup seemed to know all and everything&ndash;&ndash;he dared
-not haggle.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; he repeated stammeringly. &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;to come to terms unless I know that. I should
-think you might see that.&rdquo; The bravado was so pitiful and
-weak that Northrup barely repressed a laugh.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to turn the screws, Rivers,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and
-of course you have a right to an answer to your question. I
-want the Point because I don&rsquo;t want Maclin to have it.
-Why he wants it, I&rsquo;ll find out after. I&rsquo;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&rsquo;t. You could have
-the law on me&ndash;&ndash;but I don&rsquo;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&rsquo;s cut out the
-theatricals. Rivers, this Maclin isn&rsquo;t any good. Just how
-rotten he is can be decided later. He&rsquo;s making a fool of
-you and you&rsquo;ll get a fool&rsquo;s pay. You know this. I&rsquo;m going
-to help you, Rivers, if I can. You need all the time there is
-for&ndash;&ndash;getting away!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry&rsquo;s face was livid. He was prepared to betray Maclin,
-but the old power held him captive.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I dare not!&rdquo; he groaned.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes, you dare. Brace up, Rivers. There is more
-than one way to tackle a bad job.&rdquo; Then, so suddenly that
-it took Rivers&rsquo;s breath, Northrup swept everything from sight
-by asking calmly: &ldquo;What did you do with that letter you
-manufactured?&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s knowledge. The quicksands
-all but engulfed him. With unblinking eyes he regarded
-Northrup as though hypnotized.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I took it to her,&rdquo; he gasped.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Your wife?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She does not suspect?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What did your wife say when she read the letter?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s going to help me out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I see. All right, you&rsquo;re going to tell her that you want
-the Point and then you&rsquo;re going to sell it to me. Heathcote
-can fix this up in a few days&ndash;&ndash;the money I pay you will get
-you out of Maclin&rsquo;s reach. If he makes a break for you,
-I&rsquo;ll grab him. I guess he&rsquo;s susceptible to scare, too, if the
-truth were known.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;My God! I want a drink.&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Take only enough to stiffen you up, a swallow or two,
-Rivers.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry obeyed mechanically and when he returned to his
-chair he was firmer.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rivers, I&rsquo;m going to give you a chance by way of the only
-decent course open to you&ndash;&ndash;or to me. God knows, it&rsquo;s
-smudgy enough at the best and crooked, but it&rsquo;s all I can
-muster. I don&rsquo;t expect you to understand me, or my motives&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;m
-going to talk as man to man, stripped bare. In the
-future you can work it out any way you&rsquo;re able to. What
-I want at the present is to clear the rubbish away that&rsquo;s
-cluttering the soul of a woman. That&rsquo;s enough and you can
-draw what damned conclusions you want to.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was an ugly gleam in Larry&rsquo;s eyes. Men stripped
-bare show brutish traits, but he felt the straps that were
-binding him close.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Go on!&rdquo; he growled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;these!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Both men looked at the mass of papers.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What all these things represent, you know.&rdquo; 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.
-&ldquo;And your simply getting out of sight won&rsquo;t do. Your wife
-has got to be free&ndash;&ndash;free, do you understand? So long as she
-doesn&rsquo;t know the truth she&rsquo;d have pity for you&ndash;&ndash;women are
-like that&ndash;&ndash;she&rsquo;s going to know all there is to know, and then
-she&rsquo;ll fling you off!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>In the hidden depths of Rivers&rsquo;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>&ldquo;You damned scoundrel!&rdquo; he gasped. &ldquo;And if I do what
-you suggest, what then?&rdquo; He meant to force Northrup as
-far as he dared.</p>
-<p>A look that Rivers was never to forget spread over Northrup&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Nothing!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Like hell, nothing!&rdquo; 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.
-&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what Maclin&rsquo;s game is&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;ve played fair.
-Whatever you&rsquo;ve got on him can&rsquo;t touch me, when the
-truth&rsquo;s out.&rdquo; Rivers was breathing hard; the sweat stood on
-his forehead. &ldquo;But when it comes to selling your wife for
-hush money&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Stop that!&rdquo; Northrup&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I told you, Rivers, that I knew you couldn&rsquo;t believe me&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;the thing that might once have happened.
-But, Rivers, you don&rsquo;t know me and you don&rsquo;t know&ndash;&ndash;your
-wife. I&rsquo;ve only caught the glimmer of her, but that has
-caused me to grow&ndash;&ndash;humble. She&rsquo;s got to be free, because
-that is justice, and you and I must give it to her. When you
-free her&ndash;&ndash;it&rsquo;s up to me not to cage her!&rdquo; Northrup found
-expression difficult&ndash;&ndash;it all sounded so utterly hopeless with
-that doubting, sneering face confronting him; and his late
-distrust of himself&ndash;&ndash;menacing.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Besides, your wife has her own ideals. That&rsquo;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&rsquo;m going back to it and, by God&rsquo;s help, live
-it!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>And now Northrup&rsquo;s face twitched. He waited a moment
-and then went hopelessly on:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What the future holds&ndash;&ndash;who knows? Life is a thundering
-big thing, Rivers, if we play it square, and I&rsquo;m going to
-play it square as it&rsquo;s given me to see it. You don&rsquo;t believe
-me?&rdquo; Almost a wistfulness rang in the words. Larry leaned
-back and laughed a hollow, ugly laugh.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Believe you?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Hell, no!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I thought you couldn&rsquo;t.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s last
-drink was wearing off&ndash;&ndash;he looked near the breaking point.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rivers, I&rsquo;ll make a pact with you. Set your wife free&ndash;&ndash;in
-my way. If you do that, I&rsquo;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&rsquo;s devilish hard, but&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;and here the iron was
-driven into Rivers&rsquo;s consciousness&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;either you or I set
-Mary-Clare free before&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;he hesitated; he wanted to give all
-that he humanly could&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;before another forty-eight hours.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s hands off his throat and
-Mary-Clare&rsquo;s coldness forgotten.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go to her; I&rsquo;ll do your hell-work, but give me another
-day.&rdquo; He gritted his teeth.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rivers, this is Tuesday. On Friday you must be gone,
-and remember this: I&rsquo;ve got it in my power to set your wife
-free and imprison you and I&rsquo;ll not hesitate to do it if you try
-any tricks. I&rsquo;d advise you to keep clear of Maclin and leave
-whiskey alone. You&rsquo;ll need all the power of concentration
-you can summon.&rdquo; Then Northrup turned to the table and
-gathered up the scattered papers.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; Larry put out a trembling hand.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take charge of these,&rdquo; Northrup said. &ldquo;I am going
-to give them to the Heathcotes. They&rsquo;ll keep them with the
-other papers belonging to your wife.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Curse you!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good morning, Rivers! I mean it, good morning! You
-won&rsquo;t believe this either, but it&rsquo;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&rsquo;ll
-have the money for you.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Five o&rsquo;clock,&rdquo; counted Northrup, and plunging his hands
-in his pockets he made his way to Twombley&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s letter to his mother and she
-believed he was still there. She again looked up road maps,
-located King&rsquo;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. &ldquo;And if Brace is not playing
-in some messy puddle in his old Forest, I can get on his
-trail from there,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s Point toward Twombley&rsquo;s, Kathryn took her
-place in her limousine&ndash;&ndash;her nice little travelling bag at her
-feet&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll run in and ask the way,&rdquo; Kathryn explained, and
-slowly went up to the door that once opened so humorously
-to Northrup&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I beg your pardon. Really, I did knock&ndash;&ndash;the door just
-opened.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s fiction creatures.
-There was a story that Northrup had told Noreen about
-Eve&rsquo;s Other Children, and for an instant Jan-an estimated
-the likelihood of the stranger being one&ndash;&ndash;she wasn&rsquo;t altogether
-wrong, either!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What you want?&rdquo; she asked cautiously. Jan-an was, as
-she put it, &ldquo;all skew-y,&rdquo; for the work of the evening before
-had brought her to a more confused state than usual.</p>
-<p>The world was widening&ndash;&ndash;she included Northrup now in
-her circle of protection and she wasn&rsquo;t sure what Eve&rsquo;s Other
-Children were capable of doing.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I want to find out the way to the inn, Heathcote Inn.&rdquo;
-Kathryn smiled alluringly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you look at the sign?&rdquo; There was witchery
-about that sign, certainly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I did not see the sign. Please excuse me.&rdquo; Then, &ldquo;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?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He sleeps there!&rdquo; Jan-an looked stupid but honest.
-&ldquo;Days, he takes to the woods.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You may go on to the inn,&rdquo; she said to her man, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</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 &ldquo;scruffed&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;the Point.</p>
-<p>Through the hours at the inn she had feared Northrup&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;oh, very
-soon&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s mouth.
-But Peter reassured her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I see your side, child,&rdquo; he comforted. &ldquo;What the old
-doc said <i>goes</i> with you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But it was Larry, not the doctor, as specified the Point,&rdquo;
-Polly insisted.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, all right,&rdquo; Peter patted Polly&rsquo;s shoulder.
-&ldquo;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&rsquo;s going on, I&rsquo;ll feel
-easier. He&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I hold&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Aunt Polly was curiously stubborn&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;that
-Larry Rivers don&rsquo;t want that Point any more than a toad
-wants a pocket.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, all right!&rdquo; Peter grew red and his hair sprang
-up. &ldquo;Put it as you choose. This may bring things to a
-head. I swear the whole world is like a throbbing and
-thundering boil&ndash;&ndash;it&rsquo;s got to bust, the world and King&rsquo;s
-Forest. I say, then, let &rsquo;em bust and have done with it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>At four o&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Motherly, let me go, too,&rdquo; she pleaded.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Childie, Mother wants to be alone.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Why for?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Because, well, I must think.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then let me stay home with Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Dearie, I&rsquo;m going to send Jan-an back here.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why for?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Mary-Clare,&rdquo; Peter broke in, &ldquo;that child is perishing for
-a paddling.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Noreen ran to Peter and hugged him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You old grifferty-giff!&rdquo; she whispered, falling into her
-absurd jargon, &ldquo;just gifferting.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then she went back to her mother and said impishly:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I know! You don&rsquo;t want me to see my father!&rdquo; Then,
-pointing a finger at Mary-Clare, she demanded: &ldquo;Why
-didn&rsquo;t you pick a nice father for me when you were picking?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The irrelevancy of the question only added to its staggering
-effect. Mary-Clare looked hopelessly at her child.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t have any choice, Noreen,&rdquo; she said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You mean God gave him to you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;See here, Noreen&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Polly Heathcote rose to the call&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;stop
-pestering your mother with silly talk. Come along
-with me, we&rsquo;ll make a mess of taffy.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; Noreen turned joyously to this suggestion,
-but paused to add: &ldquo;If God gave my father to us, I s&rsquo;pose we
-must make the best of it. God knows what He is doing&ndash;&ndash;Jan-an
-says He even knew what He was doing when He
-nearly spoiled her.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Ho! ho!&rdquo; she murmured. &ldquo;So <i>this</i> is where he burrows?
-Another edition of the East Side tenement room where he
-hid while writing his abominable book!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn went nearer, stepping carefully&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;suggestions
-that had made Kathryn&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s craft.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I suppose he takes his precious stuff away with him.
-Afraid of fires or wild beasts.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This latter thought wasn&rsquo;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&rsquo;s manuscript, duplicate sheets, that Mary-Clare
-had been rereading.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Ho! ho!&rdquo; Kathryn spread them before her and read
-greedily&ndash;&ndash;not sympathetically&ndash;&ndash;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
-&ldquo;mud-stained breeches.&rdquo; With elbows on the table, daintily
-gloved hands supporting her chin, Kathryn read and thought
-and wove <i>her</i> plot with Northrup&rsquo;s words, but half understood,
-lying under her gaze.</p>
-<p>Suddenly Kathryn&rsquo;s eyes widened&ndash;&ndash;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 &ldquo;Fight&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Puddle&rdquo; of Northrup&rsquo;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&rsquo;s conclusion drove her on the rocks; Mary-Clare&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I was surprised. I am still.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn felt a wave of moral repugnance rise to her assistance.
-The clothes might disguise the real state of affairs&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;You expected, I suppose, to find Mr. Northrup?&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;her lips
-became hard and twisted.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! no, I did not, nor anyone else.&rdquo; The name seemed
-to hurt and Mary-Clare leaned back. &ldquo;May I ask who you
-are?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s
-world!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I am Miss Morris. I am engaged to be married to Mr.
-Northrup.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>It were better to cut deep while cutting, and Kathryn&rsquo;s
-nerve was now set to her task. She unrelentingly eyed her
-victim. She went on:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I can see how this must shock you. I sent my car on
-to the inn. I wanted a walk and&ndash;&ndash;well! I came upon this
-place. Fate is such a strange thing.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;she
-grew confidential.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Mr. Northrup&rsquo;s mother is ill. She needs him. The way
-I have known all this right along is simply a miracle.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;What can you possibly mean,&rdquo; she asked, and her eyes
-darkened, &ldquo;by knowing <i>this</i> all along? I do not understand&ndash;&ndash;what
-have you known?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then Kathryn sank in a morass.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! do be sensible,&rdquo; she said, and her voice was hard and
-cold. &ldquo;You must see I have found you out&ndash;&ndash;why pretend?
-When a man like Mr. Northrup leaves home and forgets his
-duties&ndash;&ndash;does not even write, buries himself in such a place as
-this and stays on&ndash;&ndash;what does it mean? What can it possibly
-mean?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare was spared much of what Kathryn was creating
-because she was so far away&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;do it more or less blindly, crudely, but she
-must go as she saw light and was given time.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You are terribly wrong about&ndash;&ndash;everything.&rdquo; Mary-Clare
-spoke quietly but her words cut like bits of hail. &ldquo;If you are
-going, as you say, to be Mr. Northrup&rsquo;s wife, you must try
-and believe what I am saying now for your own sake, but
-more for his.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn tried to say &ldquo;Insolence!&rdquo; but could not; she
-merely sat back in her chair and flashed an angry glance that
-Mary-Clare did not heed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Mr. Northrup is writing a beautiful book. The book is
-himself. He does not realize how much it is&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; Kathryn did utter the one word, then added:
-&ldquo;I suppose he&rsquo;s read it to you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, he has.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Here, I suppose? By the fire, alone with you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, under the trees, out there.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare turned and glanced at the pure, open woods.
-&ldquo;It is a beautiful book,&rdquo; she repeated.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! go on, do! Really this is too utterly ridiculous.&rdquo;
-Kathryn laughed impatiently. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll take for granted the
-beauty of the book.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, I cannot go on. You would not understand. It does
-not matter. What I want you to know is this&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;not even you who will be his wife&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;that was the matter with
-his beautiful book&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;it never occurred to me before&ndash;&ndash;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!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;No, I do not believe you,&rdquo; she said bitterly. &ldquo;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&rsquo;ll have to take what you have brought upon yourself.
-This whole thing is pitifully cheap and ordinary&ndash;&ndash;the only
-gleam of difference in it is that you are rather unusual&ndash;&ndash;more
-dangerous on that account. I simply cannot account for you,
-but it doesn&rsquo;t really interest me. When Mr. Northrup writes
-his books, he always does what he has done now. It&rsquo;s rather
-brutal and cold-blooded but so it is. He has used you&ndash;&ndash;you
-have been material for him. If there is nothing worse&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Kathryn
-flushed here&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;it is because I have come in time.
-May I ask you now to leave me here in Mr. Northrup&rsquo;s&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Kathryn
-sought the proper word&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;study?&rdquo; she said lamely.
-&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I would have helped you and him, if I could.&rdquo; Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-voice sounded like the &ldquo;ghost wind&rdquo; seeking wearily,
-in a lost way, rest. &ldquo;But I see that I cannot. This is not
-Mr. Northrup&rsquo;s Place&ndash;&ndash;it is mine. I built it myself&ndash;&ndash;no
-foot but mine&ndash;&ndash;and now yours&ndash;&ndash;has ever entered here. I
-have always come here to&ndash;&ndash;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.&rdquo; Mary-Clare was thinking aloud, taking no heed of
-her companion.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How dare you!&rdquo; Kathryn&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Please go!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;I want you to understand,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that you are dealing
-with a woman of the world, not a sentimental fool.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;she must not stumble now because of
-any one, anything.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s what you do to love that counts!&rdquo; Almost fiercely
-Mary-Clare grasped this. And in that moment Noreen,
-Northrup&rsquo;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>&ldquo;There is nothing for me to do but wait.&rdquo; Mary-Clare
-seemed to hear herself speaking the words. &ldquo;I can do nothing
-now but wait. But I will not fear the Truth.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The bared Truth stood revealed; before it Mary-Clare did
-not flinch.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;This is what it has all meant. The happiness, the joy,
-the strange intensity of common things.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;</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&rsquo;s hospitality
-with the plea of business. He outlined a
-programme and demanded silence.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to buy this Point,&rdquo; he confided, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;m going
-to go away, Twombley. I&rsquo;m going to leave things exactly
-as they are until&ndash;&ndash;well, perhaps always. Just consider yourself
-my superintendent.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Twombley blinked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Snatching hot cakes?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Spoiling Maclin&rsquo;s
-meal?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Something like that, yes. I don&rsquo;t know what all this
-means, Twombley, but I&rsquo;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&rsquo;m in on this deal, I&rsquo;ll be better
-pleased&ndash;&ndash;but I want you to keep me informed.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I guess I&rsquo;ll put the Chinese&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Peter was not careful as
-to particulars&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;out in the barn to sleep,&rdquo; he said, but Polly
-shook her head.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, keep him where you can watch &rsquo;im,&rdquo; she cautioned.
-&ldquo;There&rsquo;ll be no sleeping for me while this unchristian business
-is afoot. Peter, what do you suppose the creature eats?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t studying about that&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Peter shook with nervous
-laughter&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;but I&rsquo;m going to chain Ginger up. I&rsquo;ve
-heard these Chinese-ers lean to animals.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Nonsense, brother! But do you suppose the young
-woman what&rsquo;s on her way here is a female Chinese?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The Lord knows!&rdquo; Peter bristled. &ldquo;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&rsquo;s keener than us,
-perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, brother&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Polly was bustling around&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;this is no
-time to set my nerves on edge. Here we be; here all this
-mess is. We best hold tight.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>So Peter and Polly &ldquo;held tight&rdquo; while inwardly they feared
-that King&rsquo;s Forest was in deadly peril and that they had let
-the unsuspecting people in for who could tell&ndash;&ndash;what?</p>
-<p>About five o&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;a
-great deal of the latter showing&ndash;&ndash;were evidences against
-her respectability.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m Mr. Northrup&rsquo;s fianc&eacute;e,&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Perhaps you better go to your room,&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Mr. Northrup&rsquo;s mother is dying,&rdquo; she faltered; a shade
-more or less did not count now&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;help me to be brave and
-calm for his sake. Please be my friend as you have been
-his!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; she said, hovering over the girl, &ldquo;somehow we
-never thought about Brace&rsquo;s folks and all that. Just you
-come upstairs and rest and wash. I&rsquo;ll fetch you some nice
-hot tea. It&rsquo;s terrible&ndash;&ndash;his mother dying&ndash;&ndash;and you having
-to break it to him.&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;She says she&rsquo;s going to marry Brace,&rdquo; she confided.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I reckon if she says she is, she is!&rdquo; Peter grunted.
-&ldquo;She looks capable of doing it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Peter, you mustn&rsquo;t be hard.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I hope to the Lord I can be hard.&rdquo; Peter looked grim.
-&ldquo;It&rsquo;s being soft and easy as has laid us open to&ndash;&ndash;what?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Peter, you give me the creeps.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s return. Every gesture she made bespoke the
-sweet clinging woman bent on mercy&rsquo;s task.</p>
-<p>She again saw herself in a dramatic scene. Northrup
-would open the door&ndash;&ndash;that one! Kathryn fixed her eyes on
-the middle door&ndash;&ndash;he would look at her&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;</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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;</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&ndash;&ndash;he thought, as he
-plunged along, in Manly&rsquo;s terms&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s up?&rdquo; he asked, as Jan-an came nearer. The girl
-no longer repelled him&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Say, there&rsquo;s a queer lot to the inn. They&rsquo;re after you!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup started.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;A toot cart with an image setting up the front&ndash;&ndash;and a
-dressy piece in the glass cage behind.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>So vivid was the picture that Jan-an portrayed that Northrup
-did not need to question.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Lord! but she was togged out,&rdquo; Jan-an went on, &ldquo;but
-seemed like I felt she had black wings hid underneath.&rdquo;
-Poor Jan-an&rsquo;s flights of fancy always left her muddled. &ldquo;If
-you want that I should tell her anything while you light
-out&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup laughed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There, there, Jan-an,&rdquo; he comforted. &ldquo;Why, this is
-all right. You wanted me to know, in case&ndash;&ndash;oh! but you&rsquo;re a
-good sort! But see here, everything is safe and sound and&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Northrup
-paused, then suddenly&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;to-morrow, Jan-an, I
-want you to go to&ndash;&ndash;to Mary-Clare and tell her I left&ndash;&ndash;good-bye
-for her and Noreen.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yer&ndash;&ndash;yer going away?&rdquo; Jan-an writhed under the flashlight.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; The girl burst into tears. Northrup tried
-to comfort her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been so stirred,&rdquo; the girl sobbed.
-&ldquo;I had feelin&rsquo;s&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;So have I, Jan-an. So have I.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>They stood in the dark for a moment and then, because
-there was nothing more to say&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Well, little girl,&rdquo; he said&ndash;&ndash;people always lowered their
-voices when speaking to Kathryn&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;what is it?&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Is it Mother?&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
-<p>Kathryn nodded and her easy tears fell.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Dead?&rdquo; The word cut like a knife and Kathryn shivered.
-For the first she doubted herself; felt like a bungler.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! no, Brace; Brace, do not look like that&ndash;&ndash;really&ndash;&ndash;really&ndash;&ndash;listen
-to me.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup breathed heavily.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;An accident?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Brace dear, I&ndash;&ndash;you know I have been bearing it all alone
-and I dared <i>not</i> take any further responsibility even to&ndash;&ndash;to
-shield you, dearest, and your work.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>By some dark magic Northrup felt himself a selfish brute;
-a deserter of duty.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Kathryn,&rdquo; he said, and his eyes fell, &ldquo;please tell me. I
-suppose I have been unforgivable, but&ndash;&ndash;well, there&rsquo;s nothing
-to say!&rdquo; Northrup bowed his head to take whatever blow
-might fall.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;I did not know what to do.
-It may not be anything&ndash;&ndash;but how could I know?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You went to Manly?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;No, dear, that was it. Your mother would not let me&ndash;&ndash;she
-thought only of you; you must not be worried, just now&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;it comes mostly at
-night&ndash;&ndash;so she has been able to hide it from you; the day following
-she always spoke of it as a headache&ndash;&ndash;you know how
-we have sympathized with her&ndash;&ndash;but never were alarmed?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup nodded. He recalled those headaches.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, a week ago she called me to come to her&ndash;&ndash;she
-really looked quite terrible, Brace. I was so frightened, but
-of course I had to hide my feelings. She says&ndash;&ndash;oh! Brace,
-she says there is&ndash;&ndash;way back in the family&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; Northrup got up and paced the floor.
-&ldquo;Manly has told me that was sheer nonsense. Go on,
-Kathryn.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, dear, she was weak and <i>so</i> pitiful and she&ndash;&ndash;she
-confided things to me that I am sure she would not have,
-had she been her brave, dear self.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What kind of things?&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;chaff.
-For a moment, he forgot the question he had just
-asked, but Kathryn was struggling to answer it.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;have been putting off our marriage because of
-her!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Go on!&rdquo; he said quietly, and resumed his seat by the
-fire.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I think we have been careless rather than thoughtful,
-dear. Older people can be hurt by such kindness&ndash;&ndash;if they
-are wonderful and proud like your mother. She cannot
-bear to&ndash;&ndash;to be an obstacle.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;An obstacle? Good Lord!&rdquo; Northrup jammed a log to
-its place and so relieved his feelings.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, my dearest, you must see the position I was placed
-in?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Kathryn, I do. You&rsquo;re a brick, my dear, but&ndash;&ndash;how
-did you know where I was, if you did not go to Manly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn looked up, and all the childlike confidence and
-sweetness she could summon lay in her lovely eyes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;I came alone and I knew that people here
-could direct me if you had gone away. I was prepared to
-follow you&ndash;&ndash;anywhere!&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Kathryn suddenly recalled her
-small hand-bag upstairs&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;Brace, I was frightened, bearing
-it alone. I <i>had</i> to have you. Oh! Brace.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup found the girl in his arms. His face was against
-hers&ndash;&ndash;her tears were falling and she was sobbing helplessly.
-The net, it was a purse net now, drew close.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Brace, Brace, we must make her happy, together. I will
-share everything with you&ndash;&ndash;I have been so heedless; so
-selfish&ndash;&ndash;but my life is now yours and&ndash;&ndash;hers!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Guilt filled the aroused soul of Northrup. As far as in
-him lay he&ndash;&ndash;surrendered! With characteristic swiftness
-and thoroughness he closed his eyes and made his dash!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Kathryn, you mean you will marry me; you will&ndash;&ndash;do
-this for me and her?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s shoulder and Kathryn&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;it might have to be hurried, but he felt confident
-that by raising Larry&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;Northrup
-gruesomely termed himself that&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Now, son, must you go out?&rdquo; she pleaded, her spectacles
-awry on the top of her head, her eyes unnaturally bright.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Aunt Polly.&rdquo; Northrup paused, the knob of the
-door in hand, and looked down at the little creature.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Is it fair, son?&rdquo; Aunt Polly was savagely thinking of the
-gossip of the Forest&ndash;&ndash;she wildly believed that Northrup might
-be going to the yellow house. The hurry of departure might
-blind him to folly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Fair&ndash;&ndash;fair to whom, Aunt Polly?&rdquo; Northrup&rsquo;s brows
-drew together.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;To yourself, son. Bad news and the sudden going
-away&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; the old voice choked. It was hard to use an
-enemy&rsquo;s weapon against one&rsquo;s own, even to save him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Aunt Polly, look at me.&rdquo; This was spoken sternly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I <i>am</i> looking, son, I am looking.&rdquo; And so she was.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;just
-a tired, half-sick man, but things were taken out of my
-hands. I&rsquo;ve been used, and I don&rsquo;t know myself just yet
-for what. I&rsquo;m going to have faith and you must have it&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;m
-with you, not against you. Will you kiss me, Aunt
-Polly?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>From his height Northrup bent to Polly&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going away, Rivers,&rdquo; Northrup explained, sitting
-opposite Larry. &ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t wait to get word from you&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;ll take my chances. Heathcote has straightened out your
-wife&rsquo;s part&ndash;&ndash;the Point is yours. I&rsquo;ve made sure of that.
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span>
-Now I&rsquo;m going to write out something that I think will hold&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;t keep your bargain, I&rsquo;ll come
-back.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Sign there!&rdquo; he said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll sign where I damn please.&rdquo; Larry showed his teeth.
-&ldquo;How much you going to give me for my woman?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to kill you,&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;but you deserve
-it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Ah, have it your own way,&rdquo; Larry cringed. The memory
-of the night before steadied him. He&rsquo;d been drinking heavily
-and was stronger&ndash;&ndash;and weaker, in consequence.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How much is&ndash;&ndash;is the price for the Point?&rdquo; he mumbled.</p>
-<p>Northrup mastered his rage and sat down. Feeling sure
-that Rivers would dicker he said quietly:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;A thousand dollars.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Double that!&rdquo; Rivers&rsquo;s eyes gleamed. A thousand
-dollars would take him out of Maclin&rsquo;s reach, but all that he
-could get beyond would keep him there longer.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rivers, I expected this, so I&rsquo;ll name my final price.
-Fifteen hundred! Hurry up and sign that paper.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry signed it unsteadily but clearly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Have you seen your wife, Rivers?&rdquo; Northrup passed a
-cheque across the table.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to see her to-morrow&ndash;&ndash;I have up to Friday,
-you know.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s true. I must go to-morrow morning, but I&rsquo;ll
-make sure you keep to your bargain.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And&ndash;&ndash;you?&rdquo; Rivers&rsquo;s lips curled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I have kept my bargain.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll get away without talking to my wife?&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></div>
-<p>Northrup&rsquo;s eyes grew dark.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. But, Rivers, if I find that you play loose in any
-way, by God, I&rsquo;ll settle with you if I have to scour the earth
-for you. Remember, she is to know everything&ndash;&ndash;everything,
-and after that&ndash;&ndash;you&rsquo;re to get out&ndash;&ndash;quick.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll get out all right.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I hope, just because of your wife and child, Rivers, that
-you&rsquo;ll straighten up; that something will get a grip on you
-that will pull you up&ndash;&ndash;not down further. No man has a
-right to put the burden of his right living or his going to hell
-on a woman&rsquo;s conscience, but women like your wife often
-have to carry that load. You&rsquo;ve got that in you which,
-put to good purpose, might&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! cut it out.&rdquo; Rivers could bear no more. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going
-to get out of your way&ndash;&ndash;what more in hell do you want?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo; Northrup rose, white-lipped and stern.
-&ldquo;Nothing. We are both of us, Rivers, paying a big price
-for a woman&rsquo;s freedom. It&rsquo;s only just&ndash;&ndash;we ought not to want
-anything more.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;It is what one does to love that matters.&rdquo; That was
-it&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;What one does.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;t help this&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;you showed me that, too. I do not know how I am to
-go on with my old life&ndash;&ndash;but I am going to try to live it&ndash;&ndash;as you will
-live yours.</p>
-<p>There was a mad moment on the hill that last day we met&ndash;&ndash;you
-saved it.</p>
-<p>There is a greater thing than love&ndash;&ndash;it is truth, and that is why
-I must bid you good-bye&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;Aunt Polly had carried Kathryn&rsquo;s to her room&ndash;&ndash;Northrup
-went out to see that everything was ready for the journey
-home. To his grim delight&ndash;&ndash;it seemed almost a postponed
-sentence&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Take it, Jan-an,&rdquo; Larry urged. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d like to remember
-you taking it.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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 d&eacute;bris 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&ndash;&ndash;Maclin&rsquo;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&rsquo; misunderstanding.</p>
-<p>If he had had a&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;And Mary-Clare!&rdquo; At this his face set cruelly. &ldquo;She
-should have stood by me. What was her sense of duty,
-anyway?&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s.
-But she was keeping everything. His father&rsquo;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&rsquo;s and wait
-for her. She should get her freedom there, where she had
-forbidden him to come. He&rsquo;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&rsquo;s&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;the Place was no
-longer hers alone.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;A nice lot you are!&rdquo; Rivers blurted this out and came
-in. He sat down on the edge of the table near Mary-Clare.
-&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; he demanded, his eyes on the note.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;A letter.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Full of directions, I suppose?&rdquo; Larry smiled an ugly,
-keen smile.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Directions? What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess that doesn&rsquo;t matter, does it?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t
-let us waste time. See here, my girl, the game&rsquo;s up! Now
-that letter&ndash;&ndash;I want that. It will be evidence when I need it.
-He&rsquo;s broken his bargain. I mean to take the advantage I&rsquo;ve
-got.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare stared at Rivers in helpless amazement&ndash;&ndash;but
-her fingers closed more firmly upon the note.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;When he&ndash;&ndash;he bought you&ndash;&ndash;he promised me that he&rsquo;d
-never see you again. He wanted you free&ndash;&ndash;for yourself.
-Free!&rdquo; Larry flung his head back and indulged in a harsh
-laugh. &ldquo;I got the Point&ndash;&ndash;he bought the Point and you!
-Paid high for them, too, but he&rsquo;ll pay higher yet before I get
-through with him.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s life, as a
-plea for her loyalty, faith, and gratitude.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do you know why my father kept me from home and put
-you in my place?&rdquo; he demanded.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He was afraid of me&ndash;&ndash;afraid of himself. He left me to
-others&ndash;&ndash;and others helped me along. Others like Maclin
-who saw my ability!&rdquo; Again Larry gave his mirthless, ugly
-laugh and this time Mary-Clare shuddered.</p>
-<p>She made no defence for her beloved doctor&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m a counterfeiter&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;ve been in prison&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;ve&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;they were
-like two outcasts defiantly accusing her, but toward whom
-she could well afford to feel merciful.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t, Larry&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare spoke at last and there were
-tears in her eyes&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;please don&rsquo;t. You&rsquo;ve said enough.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>She felt as though she were looking at the dying face of a
-suicide.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I think I have said enough about myself except
-this: I wrote all those letters you&ndash;&ndash;you had. Not one was
-my father&rsquo;s&ndash;&ndash;they were counterfeits&ndash;&ndash;there are more ways
-than one of&ndash;&ndash;of getting what you want.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You mean&ndash;&ndash;that he did not want me to marry you?
-And that last night&ndash;&ndash;he did not say&ndash;&ndash;what you said you
-understood?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry laughed&ndash;&ndash;but it was not the old assured laugh of
-brutality&ndash;&ndash;he had stripped himself so bare that at last he was
-aware of his own nakedness.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been hard and selfish, Mary-Clare. Another
-sort might have helped me&ndash;&ndash;I got to caring, at first. You&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;m coming back for more&ndash;&ndash;more&ndash;&ndash;and
-you and he are going to pay.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;he must clutch what was left.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Give that to me!&rdquo; he commanded, and reached for the
-clenched hand on the table.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, Larry. If you could understand, I would let you
-have it, but you couldn&rsquo;t! Nothing matters now between
-you and me. I am free, free!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;her eyes were tear-filled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Brace, dear,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m so afraid. The
-storm; everything frightens me. Take me in your arms.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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 &ldquo;Green
-Jacket&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;faces&rdquo;
-that she disturbed any onlookers.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; Noreen said at last. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll both do something.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This clever psychological ruse brought Jan-an to her normal
-state.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s play Eve&rsquo;s Other Children,&rdquo; Noreen ran on. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
-be Eve and hide my children, the ones I don&rsquo;t like specially.
-You be God, Jan-an.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This was a great concession on Noreen&rsquo;s part, for she revelled
-in the leading r&ocirc;le, 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 &ldquo;other
-children&rdquo; on the score that they weren&rsquo;t worth keeping.</p>
-<p>But the interest flagged at length, and both Jan-an and
-Noreen became silent and depressed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got feelin&rsquo;s!&rdquo; Jan-an remarked, &ldquo;in the pit of my
-stomach. Besides, it&rsquo;s getting cold and a storm&rsquo;s brewing.
-Did yer hear thunder?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I want Motherly.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s biding terrible long up yonder.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;P&rsquo;raps, oh! Jan-an, p&rsquo;raps that lady you were telling about
-has taken Motherly!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Noreen became agitated, but Jan-an with blind intuition
-scoffed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No; whatever she took, she wouldn&rsquo;t take her! But she
-took Mr. Northrup, all right. Her kind takes just fierce! I
-sense her.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Noreen looked blank.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Tell me about the heathen, Jan-an,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;What
-<i>did</i> he eat when Uncle Peter wouldn&rsquo;t let him have Ginger?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, but I did miss two rabbits.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Live ones, Jan-an?&rdquo; Noreen&rsquo;s eyes widened.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Sure, live ones. Everything&rsquo;s live till it&rsquo;s killed. I
-ain&rsquo;t saying he et &rsquo;em &rsquo;live.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maybe the rabbits got away,&rdquo; Noreen suggested hopefully.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The Lord knows! Maybe they did.&rdquo; Then Jan-an
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span>
-added further information: &ldquo;I guess your father has gone
-for good!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Took?&rdquo; Noreen was not now overcome by grief.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, just gone. He gave me a dollar.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;A dollar, Jan-an? A whole dollar?&rdquo; This was almost
-unbelievable. Jan-an produced the evidence from her loose
-and soiled blouse.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He left his place terribly tidy, too,&rdquo; she ran on, &ldquo;and
-when a man does that Peneluna says it&rsquo;s awful suspicious.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Jan-an, you wait here&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;m going up to the cabin!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Noreen stood up defiantly. She was possessed by one of
-her sudden flashes of inspiration.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yer ain&rsquo;t been called,&rdquo; warned Jan-an.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I know, but I <i>must</i> go. I&rsquo;ll only peep in. Maybe
-Motherly took a back way to the inn.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;She ain&rsquo;t dead!&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s sobs grew less and less, she became
-quieter and was able, presently, to assist Jan-an.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s had a fall,&rdquo; Jan-an announced. Mary-Clare
-opened her eyes&ndash;&ndash;the words found an echo in her heavy
-brain.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And on an empty stummick!&rdquo; Jan-an had a sympathetic
-twinge.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; again Mary-Clare whispered and smiled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Noreen, you go on sopping her face&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;m going to get
-something hot.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;but she
-thought on.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Norrie darling, I am all right. Quite all right.&rdquo; At last
-Mary-Clare was able to assert herself; she rose unsteadily and
-Jan-an sprang to her side.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Lay down,&rdquo; she commanded in a new and almost alarming
-tone. &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t yer see, yer must hold on ter yerself a
-spell? Let me take the lead&ndash;&ndash;I know, I know!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>And Mary-Clare realized that she did! Keenly the two
-gazed at each other, Eve&rsquo;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>&ldquo;The storm,&rdquo; murmured Mary-Clare, &ldquo;the storm! It is
-the breaking up of summer!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;her
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span>
-leaf-strewn, hidden trail. She held Noreen&rsquo;s hand in hers
-but she leaned upon Jan-an. As they descended Mary-Clare
-planned.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;When we get home, Jan-an, home to the yellow house, I
-want you to go for Peneluna.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>From all the world, Mary-Clare desired the old understanding
-woman.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess you mean Aunt Polly,&rdquo; Jan-an suggested.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No. To-morrow, Aunt Polly, Jan-an. To-day I want
-Peneluna.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right.&rdquo; Jan-an nodded.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And, Noreen dear.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Motherly.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Everything is all right. I had a&ndash;&ndash;queer fall. It was
-quite dark in the cabin&ndash;&ndash;I hit my face on the edge of the
-table. And, Noreen.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Motherly.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I may have to rest a little, but you must not be worried&ndash;&ndash;you
-see, Mother hasn&rsquo;t rested in a long while.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; she said at last, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go. I guess you&rsquo;re edging to
-the limit, ain&rsquo;t yer?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare nodded.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never been sick, not plain sick, in all my life,&rdquo; she
-murmured, &ldquo;and why should I be now?&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s sleeping face so gently that the child
-did not heed the caress. Then:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Perhaps I am going to die&ndash;&ndash;people die so easily at times&ndash;&ndash;just
-flare out!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You hear me, Mary-Clare?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. I hear you, of course.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, then, child, take this along with you, wherever you
-bide for a time. I&rsquo;m here and God Almighty&rsquo;s here and
-things is safe! You get that?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Peneluna.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then listen&ndash;&ndash;&lsquo;The solitary place shall be glad&ndash;&ndash;and a
-highway shall be there&ndash;&ndash;and a way.&rsquo;&rdquo; The confused words
-fell into a crooning song.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Solitary Place&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Bad fall&ndash;&ndash;almost concussion.&rdquo;</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,
-&ldquo;I&ndash;&ndash;I want you to go to the cabin, Jan-an. I have given it&ndash;&ndash;back
-to God. Close the windows and doors&ndash;&ndash;for winter
-has come!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Jan-an nodded. She believed Mary-Clare was &ldquo;passing
-out&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;listening. Jan-an became possessed by the spiritual.
-She lifted her faithful, yearning eyes and spoke
-aloud.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;God!&rdquo; She waited. Then: &ldquo;God, I&rsquo;m trusting and I
-ain&rsquo;t afraid&ndash;&ndash;much! God, listen! I fling this to Your face.
-Yer raised Lazarus and others from the dead and Mary-Clare
-ain&rsquo;t dead yet&ndash;&ndash;can&rsquo;t Yer&ndash;&ndash;save her? Hear me! hear me!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Surely God heard and made answer, for that night Mary-Clare&rsquo;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>&ldquo;It will make less trouble all around and Peneluna will
-stay on.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s, find herself&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;a smiling, ingratiating
-Maclin. Maclin had been much disturbed by Larry&rsquo;s
-abrupt and, up to the present, successful escape. Of course
-Maclin&rsquo;s very one-track mind had at the hour of Rivers&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;likely enough in that
-wood cabin. Northrup&rsquo;s woman had got the whip hand
-and Northrup had accepted terms&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Well, well!&rdquo; he exclaimed as if surprised to see the
-girl in the angle of the old church. &ldquo;Decided to get well,
-eh? Taking a sun bath?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare gathered her cloak closer, as if shrinking from
-the smiling, unwholesome-looking man.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;m getting well fast,&rdquo; she said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hear anything from Larry?&rdquo; It seemed best to hide
-his own feelings as to Larry.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Some worried, I expect?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, I do not worry much, Mr. Maclin.&rdquo; Mary-Clare
-was thinking of her old doctor&rsquo;s philosophy. She wasn&rsquo;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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a damned mean way to treat a little woman the way
-you&rsquo;ve been treated.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;it irritated him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Left you strapped?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; Mary-Clare was interested.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Short of money.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! no. My wishes are very simple&ndash;&ndash;there&rsquo;s money
-enough for them.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;See here, Mrs. Rivers, let&rsquo;s get down to business. Of
-course you know I want the Point. I&rsquo;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&rsquo;t told a
-soul about this before&ndash;&ndash;not even Larry&ndash;&ndash;but I always hold
-that a woman <i>can</i> keep her tongue still. I&rsquo;m not one of the
-men who think different. I want to put up a factory on the
-Point; some model cottages and&ndash;&ndash;and <i>make</i> King&rsquo;s Forest.
-Now what would you take for the Point, and don&rsquo;t be too
-modest. I don&rsquo;t grind the faces of women.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Maclin smiled. The fat on his face broke into lines&ndash;&ndash;that
-was the best a smile could do for him. Mary-Clare
-looked at him, fascinated.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Speak up, Mrs. Rivers!&rdquo; This came like a poke in the
-ribs&ndash;&ndash;Mary-Clare recoiled as from a physical touch.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I do not own the Point any longer,&rdquo; she said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What in thunder!&rdquo; Maclin now recoiled. &ldquo;Who
-then?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I gave it to Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How the devil could Larry pay you for it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Larry gave me no money.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do you expect me to believe this, Mrs. Rivers?&rdquo; The
-fat now resumed its flaccid lines.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t interest me in the least, Mr. Maclin, whether
-you do or not.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;to&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;?</p>
-<p>Maclin could bear no longer his unanswered questions.
-He went back to the mines and was not seen in King&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;ideals; the meaning
-of life; love; duty; even his city&ndash;&ndash;<i>his</i>&ndash;&ndash;was threatened.
-Nothing any longer seemed safe unless it were battled for.
-There was something he owed&ndash;&ndash;what was it?</p>
-<p>Try as he valiantly did, Northrup could put little thought
-in his work&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all damned rot, Brace,&rdquo; he snapped. &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;laid a carpet or tore one up, I forget which, I heard
-the story from my father&ndash;&ndash;and she developed cancer&ndash;&ndash;more
-likely it wasn&rsquo;t cancer&ndash;&ndash;I don&rsquo;t think my father was ever sure.
-But, good Lord! why should her descendants inherit an accident?
-I thought I&rsquo;d talked your mother out of that nonsense.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;But, Brace dear, you don&rsquo;t blame me for my fright?
-I was so worried!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, little girl, you were a trump. I&rsquo;ll never forget how
-you stood by!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>So Helen Northrup put herself in Manly&rsquo;s hands&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Women! women!&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Of course, my dear lady,&rdquo; Manly said relievedly, patting
-her hand, &ldquo;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&rsquo;ve always
-wanted to do&ndash;&ndash;but didn&rsquo;t have time to do. Brace must get
-married&ndash;&ndash;he&rsquo;ll have children and you&rsquo;ll begin all over with
-them. Then I&rsquo;d like to take in some music with you this
-winter. I&rsquo;ve rather let my pet fads drop from sheer loneliness.
-Let&rsquo;s go to light opera&ndash;&ndash;we&rsquo;re all getting edgy over
-here. I tell you, Helen, it&rsquo;s up to us older fry to steer the
-youngsters away from what does not concern them.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;something rather
-wonderful had been done.</p>
-<p>He attacked Northrup one day in his sledge-hammer style.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What in thunder has got mixed up in your personality?&rdquo;
-he asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! I suppose anxiety about Mother, Manly. And the
-thought that I had slipped from under my responsibilities.
-Had she died&ndash;&ndash;well! it&rsquo;s all right now.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>But this did not satisfy Manly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hang it all, I don&rsquo;t mean anxiety,&rdquo; he blurted out. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Or the other way about, old man?&rdquo; Northrup broke in
-and laughed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, sir; you&rsquo;re on the main line, all right; but you don&rsquo;t
-look as if you knew where you were going. Keep the headlight
-on, Brace.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Thanks, Manly; I do not fully understand just where I
-may land, but I&rsquo;m going slow. Now this&ndash;&ndash;this horror across
-seas&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; Always it was creeping in, these days.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! that&rsquo;s their business, Northrup. They&rsquo;re always
-scrapping&ndash;&ndash;this isn&rsquo;t our war, old man,&rdquo; Manly broke in
-roughly, but Northrup shook his head.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Manly, I cannot look at it as a war&ndash;&ndash;just a plain war,
-you know. I&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;a pause&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;set
-to work and make souls.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Manly&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;he spoke quietly, evenly&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;do you remember
-our last talk in this office before I left?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, some of it. Yes.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Jogs, you know. Mountain peaks, baby hands, women
-faces, and souls?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes. Sick talk to a sick man.&rdquo; Manly snapped his
-fingers.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Manly, what did you mean by saying that you had once
-seen your soul?&rdquo; Northrup was in dead earnest. Manly
-swung around in his swivel chair.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I meant that I saw mine once,&rdquo; he said sharply, definitely.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How did it look?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;As if I had neglected it. A shrunken, shivering thing.&rdquo;
-Manly stopped suddenly, then added briefly: &ldquo;You cannot
-starve that part of you, Northrup, without a get-back some
-day.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No. And that&rsquo;s exactly what I am up against&ndash;&ndash;the get-back!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;Manly&rsquo;s figures of
-speech clung&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;secret ones, so far, but safe ones.</p>
-<p>Kathryn grew more charming as time passed. She did not
-seem to resent Northrup&rsquo;s detachment, though the tower
-room lured him dangerously. Once she had hinted that she&rsquo;d
-love to see his workshop; hear some of his work. But Northrup
-had put her off.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Wait, dear, until I&rsquo;ve finished the thing, and then you
-and I will have a regular gorge of it, up in my tower.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn at this put up her mouth to be kissed while behind
-her innocent smile she was picturing the girl of King&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I wonder&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; And Kathryn did wonder. Wondered
-most at the possibility of Mary-Clare ever appearing on the
-surface again. For&ndash;&ndash;and this was a humiliating thought to
-Kathryn&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;so Kathryn, with
-great efficiency, set to work. She must make provision for
-her aunt&rsquo;s future. This was not difficult, for poor Anna was
-so relieved that any provision was to be considered, that she
-accepted Kathryn&rsquo;s lowest figure.</p>
-<p>Then there was Arnold. Sandy, at the moment, was disgusted
-at Northrup&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;not a grain of Northrup&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;for she
-meant to be married soon&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;with the right
-sort of men&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;ready. Like the dying&ndash;&ndash;or the reborn&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;the stand that Mary-Clare had
-so undermined. If he finished the book before he went&ndash;&ndash;and
-he decided that it might be possible&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;above everything,
-obvious. In his present mood his book would be just&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s pervading insistence. He
-hated to be beaten at his own job.</p>
-<p>Love&rsquo;s supreme sacrifice and glory, as portrayed in woman&ndash;&ndash;<i>must</i>
-be man&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;for honour. &ldquo;But, good
-Lord!&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s love! The rest would be in their own hands&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s what one does to love!&rdquo; That was her stern ultimatum.
-&ldquo;Love&rsquo;s best proof might be renunciation, not
-surrender!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; Northrup flung back. &ldquo;How then could a
-man be sure? No book with such an ending would stand a
-chance.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;there was only one way out&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Mother, I must go!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Helen Northrup did not tremble, but she looked
-white, thin-lipped.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You have given me the twenty-four hours, son. You
-have weighed the question&ndash;&ndash;it is not emotional excitement?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, Mother, it is conscience. I&rsquo;m not in the least under
-an illusion. If I thought of this thing as war&ndash;&ndash;a mere fight&ndash;&ndash;I
-know I would be glad to avail myself of any honourable
-course and remain here. But it&rsquo;s bigger than war, that Thing
-that is deafening and blinding the world. Sometimes&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Northrup
-went over to the window and looked out into the
-still white mystery of the first snowstorm&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;sometimes I
-think it is God Almighty&rsquo;s last desperate way to awaken
-us.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Helen Northrup came to the window and stood beside
-her son. She did not touch him; she stood close&ndash;&ndash;that was
-all.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I cannot see God in this,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;God could
-have found another way. I have&ndash;&ndash;lost God. I fear most
-of us have.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Perhaps we never had Him,&rdquo; Northrup murmured.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But there <i>is</i> God&ndash;&ndash;somewhere.&rdquo; Helen&rsquo;s voice quivered.
-&ldquo;I shall always be near you, beloved, always, and perhaps&ndash;&ndash;God
-will.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I know that, Mother. And I want you to know that if
-this call wasn&rsquo;t mightier than anything else in all the world,
-I would not leave you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know that, dear son.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;she
-had her son! And now? Well, he was leaving her.
-Might never&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;</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>&ldquo;You have been happy, dear son? I mean you have had a
-happy life on the whole?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Helen had wanted that above all else. His life had been
-so short&ndash;&ndash;it might be so soon over, and the trivial untalked-of
-things rose sharply now to the surface.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Mother. Far too happy and easy.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking.&rdquo; Helen&rsquo;s thought went slowly over
-the backward road&ndash;&ndash;she must not break! But she must go
-back to the things they had left unspoken. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking,
-during the last twenty-four hours, of all the happenings,
-dear, that I wish had been different. Your father, Brace!
-I&ndash;&ndash;I tried not to deprive you of your father&ndash;&ndash;I knew the cost.
-It&ndash;&ndash;it wasn&rsquo;t all his fault, dear; it was no real fault of either of
-us; it was my misfortune, you see&ndash;&ndash;he was asking what&ndash;&ndash;what
-he had a perfect right to ask&ndash;&ndash;but I was, well, I had nothing
-to give him that he wanted.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup went across the space between him and his
-mother and laid his hand upon hers.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;kept you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, Brace. It is the world&rsquo;s thought. I have never
-been bitter. I only wish he could have been happy&ndash;&ndash;after&ndash;&ndash;after
-he went away.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;And he wasn&rsquo;t?&rdquo; This had never been discussed between
-them.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Another pause. Then:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Brace, I know it will seem foolish, but perhaps when
-you are far away it won&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;many women are feeling
-this as I do, dear. Once&ndash;&ndash;you must humour me, Brace&ndash;&ndash;once,
-after I punished you, I regretted it. I asked your
-pardon and you said, &lsquo;Don&rsquo;t mention it, Mother, I understood.&rsquo;
-I want you to say it now, son; it will be such a
-comfort.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I believe, God hearing me, Mother, that I have understood;
-have always known that you were the best and dearest
-of mothers.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And now, Mother, there is one thing more. We may not
-have another opportunity for a real house-cleaning. It&rsquo;s
-about King&rsquo;s Forest.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Helen started, but she stiffened at once.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Brace,&rdquo; she said simply.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There is a girl, a woman there. Such things as relate to
-that woman and me often happen to men and women. It&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Thank you. I understand. Is there anything you
-would like to have me do?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No. Nothing, Mother. It is all right; it had to happen,
-I suppose. I wanted you to know. We did not dishonour
-the thing&ndash;&ndash;she&rsquo;s quite wonderful.&rdquo; A pause; then:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She has a brute of a husband&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;m glad to think of that now. She has a child, a
-little girl, and there were some dead children.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This detail seemed tragically necessary to tell; it seemed
-to explain all else.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And now, Mother, I must go around to Kathryn&rsquo;s. Do
-not sit up, dear. I&rsquo;ll come to your room.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Very well.&rdquo; Then Helen stood up and laid her hands on
-his shoulders. &ldquo;Some sons and daughters,&rdquo; she said slowly,
-convincingly, &ldquo;learn how to bear life, in part, from their
-parents&ndash;&ndash;I have learned from my son.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Here, dear! Come and be comfy. This is a big chair
-and a very little me.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Been dining out, dear?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The dress suggested this, but Kathryn was alert.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;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?&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s face, sat up and her eyes
-widened.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter, Brace?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Poor little girl,&rdquo; he whispered. Kathryn also misunderstood,
-she nestled against him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Big man,&rdquo; she murmured, &ldquo;he <i>is</i> going to be nice. Kiss
-me here&ndash;&ndash;close behind my right ear&ndash;&ndash;always and always that
-is going to be just your place.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Darling, I am going away!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Away&ndash;&ndash;where?&rdquo; Kathryn became rigid.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Overseas.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Overseas? What for, in heaven&rsquo;s name?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! anything they&rsquo;ll let me do. I&rsquo;m going as soon as I
-can be sent&ndash;&ndash;but&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You mean, without any reason whatever, you&rsquo;re going to
-go over there?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Hardly without something that stands for reason,
-Kathryn.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;t dare confess it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn&rsquo;s face flamed hot.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Their lives must be pretty damnable,&rdquo; Northrup broke
-in, &ldquo;if they take such a method to fling them aside. Do try
-to understand, dear; our women must, you know.&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s weeds! While this vision was holding,
-Kathryn clung to Northrup and was experiencing actual
-distress&ndash;&ndash;not ghoulish pleasure.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! you must not leave me,&rdquo; she quivered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You will help me, Kathryn; be a woman like my mother?&rdquo;
-Again Northrup pleaded. This was unfortunate. It steadied
-Kathryn, but it hardened her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You want me to marry you at once, Brace?&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, dear. That would not be fair to you. I want you
-to understand; I want to know that you will&ndash;&ndash;will keep
-Mother company. That is all, until I come home. I could
-not feel justified in asking a woman to marry such a&ndash;&ndash;such a
-chance as I am about to be.&rdquo;</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 &ldquo;chance,&rdquo; as he termed himself,
-would become her greatest glory and hope, but as it was
-Northrup considered only Kathryn&rsquo;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 &ldquo;duty&rdquo; in Northrup&rsquo;s attitude toward her since his
-return from King&rsquo;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>&ldquo;He cannot stand it any longer,&rdquo; she thought resentfully;
-&ldquo;he&rsquo;s willing to do anything, take any chance.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>A hot wave of anger enveloped Kathryn, but she did not
-speak.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Kathryn&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Northrup grew restive at her silence&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;haven&rsquo;t
-you anything to say to me? Something I can
-remember&ndash;&ndash;over there? I&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;I reckon there will be times when my
-thoughts will cling to the old places and my own people rather
-fiercely.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;men
-coming back, heaven only knows how! even if they come at
-all&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s left&ndash;&ndash;joyfully, gratefully&ndash;&ndash;oh!
-I hate it all.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup got up and stood again with his back to the fire.
-He loomed rather large and dark before Kathryn&rsquo;s angry
-eyes. She feared he was going to say the sentimental regulation
-thing, but he did not. Sorrowfully he said:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What you say, dear, is terribly true. It isn&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;perhaps
-<i>you</i>&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You mean that <i>I</i> may go over into that shambles&ndash;&ndash;if I
-want to?&rdquo; With this Kathryn sprang to her feet. &ldquo;Well,
-thanks! I do not want to. I&rsquo;m not the kind of girl who
-takes her dissipation that way. If I ever let go, I&rsquo;ll take my
-medicine and not expect to be shielded by this sentimentality.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Kathryn, how can you? My dear, my dear! Say what
-you want to about my folly&ndash;&ndash;men&rsquo;s mistakes&ndash;&ndash;but do not
-speak so of your&ndash;&ndash;sisters!&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Sisters?&rdquo; Kathryn laughed her mirthless but musical
-laugh. &ldquo;You <i>are</i> funny, Brace!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I think I understand the whole matter,&rdquo; she said slowly,
-all traces of excitement gone. &ldquo;I am going to prove it. Will
-you marry me before you go?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, Kathryn. This is a matter of principle with me.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You think they might not let you go&ndash;&ndash;you&rsquo;d have to provide
-for my protection?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, I am not afraid of that. You&rsquo;d be well provided for;
-I would go under any circumstances, but I will not permit you
-to take a leap in the dark.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That sounds very fine, but <i>I</i> do not believe it!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The black wings that poor Jan-an had suspected under
-Kathryn&rsquo;s fine plumage were flapping darkly now. Kathryn
-was awed by Northrup&rsquo;s silence and aloofness. She was
-afraid, but still angry. What was filling her own narrow
-mind, she believed, was filling Northrup&rsquo;s and she lost all
-sense of proportion.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Is <i>she</i> going over there?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
-<p>Northrup, if possible, looked more bewildered and dazed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&ndash;&ndash;whom do you mean, Kathryn?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! I never meant to tell you! You drive me to it,
-Brace. I always meant to blot it out&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Kathryn, you&rsquo;re excited; you&rsquo;ve lost control of yourself,
-but there&rsquo;s something under all this that we must get at.
-Just answer my questions. Whom do you mean&ndash;&ndash;by &lsquo;she&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn mentally recoiled and with her back to her wall
-replied, out of the corner of her mouth:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That girl in King&rsquo;s Forest!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>From sheer astonishment Northrup drew back as from a
-blow. Kathryn misunderstood and gained courage.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I forgave it because I love you, Brace.&rdquo; She gathered
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span>
-her cheap little charms together&ndash;&ndash;her sex appeals. &ldquo;I understood
-from the moment I saw her.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;When did you see her? Where?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;can you not understand?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The tears stood in Kathryn&rsquo;s eyes, her mouth quivered.
-Northrup softened.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Go on, Kathryn. I <i>do</i> understand.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I came to a cabin in the woods, I don&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;to
-wait for you; to sit and think about you, to calm myself&ndash;&ndash;and
-then&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Kathryn!&rdquo; Northrup was seeing it all&ndash;&ndash;the cabin,
-the silent red-and-gold woods.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And then&ndash;&ndash;she came! Oh! Brace, a man can never know
-how a woman feels at such a moment&ndash;&ndash;you see there were
-some sheets of your manuscript on the table&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;I thought that would at least make her see my side;
-explain things&ndash;&ndash;but it did not! She was&ndash;&ndash;she was&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Kathryn
-ventured a bolder dash&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;she was quite violent.
-I cannot remember all she said&ndash;&ndash;she said so much&ndash;&ndash;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!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;how
-blindly he had misunderstood. He tried to speak; did speak
-at last&ndash;&ndash;he heard his words, but was not conscious of their
-meaning.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You are wrong, child. Whatever folly was committed in
-King&rsquo;s Forest was mine, not that girl&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;the whole world will.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You are going at once?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Yes, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And you won&rsquo;t marry me? Won&rsquo;t&ndash;&ndash;prove to me?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! how can you leave me to think&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Think what, Kathryn?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! things&ndash;&ndash;about her. It would be such a proof of what
-you&rsquo;ve just said&ndash;&ndash;if only you would marry me now.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Kathryn, I cannot. I am&ndash;&ndash;I wish that you could understand&ndash;&ndash;I
-am stepping out into the dark. I must go alone.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That is absurd, Brace. Absurd.&rdquo; A baffled, desperate
-note rang in Kathryn&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I will wait for you, Brace. I will prove to you what a
-woman&rsquo;s real love is!&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Yes, dear?&rdquo; she said.</p>
-<p>Northrup sat down in the chair that was his by his mother&rsquo;s
-hearth.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Kathryn wanted to marry me, Mother, at once.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That would be like her, bless her heart!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I could not accept the sacrifice, Mother.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That would be like you&ndash;&ndash;but is it a sacrifice?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It seems so to me.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You see, son, to many women this is the supreme offering.
-All <i>they</i> can give, vicariously, at this great demanding
-hour.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Women must learn to stop that rubbish, Mother. We
-men must refuse it.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why, Brace!&rdquo; Then: &ldquo;Are you quite, quite sure it
-was all for Kathryn, son?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, partly for myself; but that must include and emphasize
-Kathryn&rsquo;s share.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I see&ndash;&ndash;at least I think I do.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But you have faith, Mother?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, faith! Surely, faith.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;And you, Mother, what will you do? I cannot bear to
-think of you waiting here alone.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not going to&ndash;&ndash;wait, dear, in the sense you mean.
-I&rsquo;m going to work and get ready for your return.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Work?&rdquo; Northrup looked anxious. Helen smiled down
-upon him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;While you have been preparing,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;my
-writing job, dear; I have offered for service. It has been
-accepted. It is my great secret&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;ve kept it for you as
-my last gift. When you come home, I&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;busy!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Then she bent and laid her pale fine face against the dark
-bowed head.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You are tired, dear, very, very tired. You must go to
-bed and rest&ndash;&ndash;there is so much to do; so much.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s Forest many strange and awe-inspiring
-things had happened&ndash;&ndash;but, as far as the Forest people
-knew, they were so localized that, like a cancer, they
-were eating in, deeper and deeper&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;or so it seemed&ndash;&ndash;the bell in the deserted
-chapel sent its haunting messages&ndash;&ndash;messages rung out by unseen
-hands.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s mostly lost winds this winter,&rdquo; poor Jan-an whimpered
-to Peneluna. &ldquo;I have feelin&rsquo;s most all the time. I&rsquo;m
-scared early and late, and that cold my bones jingle.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;And don&rsquo;t come back till spring!&rdquo; she commanded.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Spring?&rdquo; Jan-an paused as she was strapping on an old
-pair of skates that once belonged to Philander Sniff. &ldquo;Spring?
-Gawd!&rdquo;</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 &ldquo;ha&rsquo;nt wind&rdquo; 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&ndash;&ndash;was it old age or lost faith?&ndash;&ndash;was
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span>
-trying to conquer Peter&rsquo;s philosophy and Aunt Polly&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-moods. When he did not want to talk his &ldquo;leg ached.&rdquo;
-When his heart sank in despair his &ldquo;leg ached.&rdquo; But Polly,
-a little thinner, a little more dim as to far-off visions, caught
-every mood of Peter&rsquo;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>&ldquo;&rsquo;Tain&rsquo;t fair and square to hold anything against the
-Almighty,&rdquo; she proclaimed, &ldquo;till you&rsquo;ve given Him a chance
-to show what He did things for.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;silence and
-low spirits&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s moods pathetically, and her
-steel became iron.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I suppose if I ask you, Peter, how you&rsquo;re feeling,&rdquo; she
-said slowly, calmly, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ll fling your leg in my face! It&rsquo;s
-monstrous to see how an able-bodied man can use any old lie
-to save his countenance.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My leg&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t leg me, Peter Heathcote, I&rsquo;m terrible ashamed of
-you. Terrible. So long as you <i>have</i> legs, brother&ndash;&ndash;and you
-<i>have</i>!&ndash;&ndash;I say use &rsquo;em. Half the troubles in this world are
-<i>think troubles</i>, laid to legs and backs and what not.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Where you been?&rdquo; Peter eyed the stern little face glowering
-at him. &ldquo;You look tuckered.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t tuckered until I set my eyes on you, Peter.
-I&rsquo;ve been considerable set up to-day. I went to Mary-Clare&rsquo;s.
-She is mighty heartening. She&rsquo;s gathered all the
-children she can get and she&rsquo;s teaching them. She&rsquo;s mimicking
-the old doctor&rsquo;s plan&ndash;&ndash;making him live again, she calls it&ndash;&ndash;and
-the Lord knows we need someone in the Forest who
-doesn&rsquo;t set chewing his own troubles, but gets out and does
-things!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter winced and Polly rambled on:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s really wonderful the way that slip of a thing handles
-those children. She has made the yellow house like a fairy
-story&ndash;&ndash;evergreens, red leaves and berries hanging about, and
-all the dogs with red-ribbon collars. They look powerful
-foolish, but they don&rsquo;t look like poor Ginger, who acts as if
-he was being smothered!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter regarded the dog by his side and remarked sadly:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess we better change this dog&rsquo;s name. Ginger is
-like an insult to him. Ginger! Lord-a-mighty, there ain&rsquo;t
-no ginger left in him.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Peter, you&rsquo;re all wrong. There are times when I think
-Ginger is more gingery than ever. You don&rsquo;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?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo; Peter&rsquo;s hair sprang up; his face reddened. Polly
-noted the good signs and took heart.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why, he joins Mary-Clare&rsquo;s dogs and fetches the littlest
-children to the yellow house. Carries lunch pails, pulls sleds,
-and I&rsquo;ve seen that little crippled tot of Jonas Mills&rsquo; on Ginger&rsquo;s
-back. Ain&rsquo;t that ginger fur yer? I tell you, Peter,
-it&rsquo;s you as ails that dog&ndash;&ndash;he&rsquo;s what you make him. I reckon
-the Lord, that isn&rsquo;t unmindful of sparrows, takes notice of
-dogs.&rdquo; Then suddenly, Polly demanded: &ldquo;Peter, what is it,
-just?&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;a vivid bird of
-Paradise flamed just where her aching head rested.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, Polly&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Peter slapped the leg that he had lied
-about&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;you and I came to the Forest half a century ago
-and felt real perky. We thought, under God, we&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;and swamping me.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, brother, and what else?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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 &rsquo;em.&rdquo; Peter gulped.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess the Lord can care for His own, Peter,&rdquo; Polly remarked
-fiercely.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Then Maclin came!&rdquo; Peter groaned out the words, for
-this was the crux of the matter.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes&ndash;&ndash;Maclin came.&rdquo; Aunt Polly wiped her eyes. &ldquo;And
-I think, looking back, that something had to happen to wake
-us up! Maclin was a tester.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter gave a rumbling laugh.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Maclin a tester!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Lord, Polly, yer notions
-are more messing than clearing.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, anyway, Peter Heathcote, Maclin came, and this I
-do say: places are like folks&ndash;&ndash;if their constitutions are all
-right, they don&rsquo;t take disease. Maclin was a disease, and we
-caught him! He settled on us and we hadn&rsquo;t vim enough to
-know and understand what he was. If it hadn&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter was not listening, he was thinking aloud.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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!&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;I never did think Maclin was in the image of God, Peter.
-All God&rsquo;s children ain&rsquo;t the spitting image of Him. And
-Maclin certainly did us a good turn when he found iron on the
-Point. The iron&rsquo;s here&ndash;&ndash;if he ain&rsquo;t!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, he didn&rsquo;t do it!&rdquo; Polly snapped. &ldquo;And it seems
-like God is giving us another chance; same as He is the world.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter got up and stumped noisily about the kitchen much
-to Ginger&rsquo;s surprise and discomfort.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re old, Polly,&rdquo; he muttered; &ldquo;the heart&rsquo;s taken out
-of us. We led &rsquo;em astray because we didn&rsquo;t lead &rsquo;em right.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not old.&rdquo; Polly looked comically defiant. &ldquo;And my
-heart&rsquo;s where it belongs and on the job. It&rsquo;s shame to us,
-Peter, if we don&rsquo;t use every scrap that&rsquo;s left of us to undo the
-failings of the past.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And that night!&rdquo; Peter groaned, recalling the night of
-Maclin&rsquo;s arrest. &ldquo;That&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;why, Polly, in the middle of some black nights I
-get to seeing the look on Maclin&rsquo;s face when he was caught!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, brother, do be sensible and wipe the sweat off yer
-forehead. This room is stifling. Can&rsquo;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&rsquo;s gun than
-Maclin&rsquo;s, and you know, full well, they found two ugly looking
-guns in Maclin&rsquo;s bag all packed with papers and pictures
-of the mines and bits of our own rock&ndash;&ndash;what showed iron.
-Peter, I ain&rsquo;t a bloodthirsty woman and the Lord knows I
-don&rsquo;t hunger for my fellow&rsquo;s vitals, but I&rsquo;m willing to give
-Maclin up to a righteous God. The Lord knows we couldn&rsquo;t
-deal with the like of him.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;But, Polly&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;poor Peter&rsquo;s humanity had received a
-terrible jog&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;the look on Maclin&rsquo;s face&ndash;&ndash;when he was
-caught!&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Well! he ought to have had a look!&rdquo; Polly snapped.
-&ldquo;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&rsquo;t slumped yet&ndash;&ndash;oh!
-if only we could keep them stiff! It was an awful big
-thing to happen to a little place like the Forest. It&rsquo;s terrible
-suggestive!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>But Peter could not be diverted.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They were fearful rough with him&ndash;&ndash;he, a trapped creature,
-Polly! I always feel as if one oughtn&rsquo;t to harry a trapped
-thing. That&rsquo;s not God&rsquo;s way. It was all my fault! What
-was I a magistrate for&ndash;&ndash;and just standing by&ndash;&ndash;staring?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, he should have held still&ndash;&ndash;he put up fight. Brother,
-you make me indignant.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They mauled him, Polly, mauled him. And they took
-him&ndash;&ndash;to what?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Polly got up.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Peter,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re a sick man or you wouldn&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;what? Hasn&rsquo;t he sent the old doctor&rsquo;s boy into&ndash;&ndash;what?
-The Almighty has got all sorts to deal with&ndash;&ndash;and he&rsquo;s got
-Maclin, but we&rsquo;ve got what&rsquo;s left. Peter, I put it up to you&ndash;&ndash;what
-are we going to do about it?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What can we do?&rdquo; Peter placed his two hands on his
-wide-spread knees&ndash;&ndash;for he had dropped exhausted into his
-chair. &ldquo;Has any one heard of Larry?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>This sudden question roused Aunt Polly; she had hoped it
-would not be asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Peter. Twombley has,&rdquo; she faltered.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo; Peter&rsquo;s mouth gaped.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The letter said that when he came back we&rsquo;d be proud of
-him and&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Polly choked&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;he begged our pardons&ndash;&ndash;for
-Maclin. He&rsquo;s gone to that war&ndash;&ndash;over there. He said it
-was all he could do&ndash;&ndash;with himself, to prove against Maclin.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Twombley and Peneluna hold that we better not tell
-Mary-Clare. Better give Larry a chance to do his proving&ndash;&ndash;before
-we get any hopes or fears to acting up.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I guess that&rsquo;s sensible,&rdquo; Peter nodded, &ldquo;he mightn&rsquo;t do
-it, you know.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s powerful hot here!&rdquo; Peter muttered, wiping his face.
-&ldquo;And what in thunder ails that dog?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Fits?&rdquo; Peter looked concerned. But Polly had an inspiration.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I believe, Peter,&rdquo; she said solemnly, &ldquo;Ginger smells&ndash;&ndash;spring!
-I thought I did myself as I came along. There were
-fluffy green edges by the water. I do love edges, Peter!
-Let&rsquo;s open the door wide, brother. We get so used to winter,
-and live so close, that sometimes we don&rsquo;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&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Peter dear, spring is here!&rdquo; Polly said this like a prayer.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Spring!&rdquo; Peter&rsquo;s voice echoed the sound. Then he turned
-to the closet for his coat and hat.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Where you going, brother?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The big bulky figure, ready for a new adventure, turned at
-the door.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Just going to the Point and stand by! We must take
-care of the old doc&rsquo;s leavings. The iron, that boy of his, and&ndash;&ndash;the
-rest. Come on, Ginger.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I never saw such a responsive door!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I really
-knocked very gently. Please tell me how far it is to the
-inn?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare, her little group of children about her, looked
-up and smiled. The smile and the eyes made the stranger&rsquo;s
-breath come a bit quicker.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Just three miles to the south.&rdquo; Mary-Clare came close.
-&ldquo;You are walking? I will send my little girl with you.
-Noreen?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>But Jan-an was holding Noreen back.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s one of them other children of Eve!&rdquo; she cautioned.
-&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t forget the other one!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Thank you so much,&rdquo; the stranger was speaking. &ldquo;But
-may I rest here for a moment? These children&ndash;&ndash;is it a
-school.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;A queer one, I&rsquo;m afraid. We&rsquo;re all teachers, all pupils&ndash;&ndash;even
-the dogs.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare looked at her small group.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;One has to do something, you know,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Something
-to help.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. And will you send the children away for a moment?
-I have something to say to you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare&rsquo;s face went white. Since Maclin&rsquo;s exposure
-the girl knew a spiritual fear that never before had troubled
-her. Maclin and Larry! Doubt, uncertainty&ndash;&ndash;they had
-done their worst for Mary-Clare.</p>
-<p>When the children were gone the stranger leaned forward
-and said quietly:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I am Mrs. Dana&ndash;&ndash;I am here on government business.
-There, my dear Mrs. Rivers, please do not be alarmed&ndash;&ndash;I
-come as your friend; the friend of King&rsquo;s Forest; it is on the
-map, you know.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></div>
-<p>The tears stood in Mary-Clare&rsquo;s wide eyes, her lips trembled.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I conscript you!&rdquo; Mrs. Dana leaned a little further toward
-Mary-Clare and took her hands. &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! can we? Why, that would be the most splendid
-thing. We&rsquo;re all so&ndash;&ndash;so frightened.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. I know. See, I have my credentials&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;Mrs. Dana
-took a notebook from her bag. &ldquo;The mines&ndash;&ndash;well, all the
-danger there is destroyed. The mines are cleaned out.&rdquo;
-She was reading from her notes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Mary-Clare was impressed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And there&rsquo;s iron on the Point&ndash;&ndash;we must get at that&ndash;&ndash;you
-own the Point?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No; I gave it to my husband.&rdquo; The words were whispered.
-&ldquo;And he sold it to a Mr. Northrup.&rdquo; There was no
-holding back in King&rsquo;s Forest these days.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I see. Well, we must get this Mr. Northrup busy, then.
-Where is he?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mrs. Dana tucked the book away and her eyes looked
-kindly into Mary-Clare&rsquo;s.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I do not know. He went to his&ndash;&ndash;to the city&ndash;&ndash;New
-York.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And you have never heard from him?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>On the lake road Noreen, after a few skirmishes, succumbed
-to one of her sudden likings&ndash;&ndash;she abandoned herself to Mrs.
-Dana&rsquo;s charm. With her head coquettishly set slantwise
-she fixed her grave eyes&ndash;&ndash;they were very like her mother&rsquo;s&ndash;&ndash;on
-Mrs. Dana&rsquo;s face.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I like the look of you,&rdquo; she confided softly.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad. I like the look of you very much, little
-Noreen.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Do you know any stories or songs?&rdquo; Noreen had her
-private test.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I used to, but it has been a long while since I thought
-about them. Do you know any, Noreen?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! many. My man taught me. He taught me to be
-unafraid, too.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Your man, little girl?&rdquo; Mrs. Dana turned her eyes away.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes&rsquo;m. Jan-an, she&rsquo;s a bit queer, you know, Jan-an says
-the ghost-wind brought him. He only stayed a little while,
-but things aren&rsquo;t ever going to be the same again. No&rsquo;m,
-not ever! He even liked Jan-an, and most folks don&rsquo;t&ndash;&ndash;at
-first. His name is Mr. Northrup, but Jan-an and I call him
-The Man.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And he sang for you?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes&rsquo;m. We sang together, marching along&ndash;&ndash;this way!&rdquo;
-Noreen swung the hand that held hers. &ldquo;Do you know&ndash;&ndash;&lsquo;Green jacket,
-red cap&rsquo;?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I used to. It goes something like this&ndash;&ndash;doesn&rsquo;t it?</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>&ldquo;Up the airy mountain</p>
-<p>Down the rustly glen&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>I have forgotten the rest.&rdquo; Mrs. Dana closed her eyes.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! that&rsquo;s kingdiferous,&rdquo; Noreen laughed with delight.
-&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll sing the rest, then we&rsquo;ll sing together:</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>&ldquo;We daren&rsquo;t go a-hunting</p>
-<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>For fear of little men.</p>
-<p>Wee folk, good folk</p>
-<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>Trooping all together,</p>
-<p>Green jacket, red cap</p>
-<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>And white owl&rsquo;s feather.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;a very little boy.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Now, then,&rdquo; Noreen insisted, &ldquo;we can sing it betterer this
-time.</p>
-<div class='poem'><div class='stanza'>
-<p>&ldquo;Green jacket, red cap</p>
-<p><span class='indent2'>&nbsp;</span>And white owl&rsquo;s feather.&rdquo;</p>
-</div></div>
-<p>Suddenly Noreen stopped.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Your face looks funny,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Your lips are laughing,
-but your eyes&ndash;&ndash;is it the sun in your eyes?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mrs. Dana bent until her head was close to Noreen&rsquo;s.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Little girl, little Noreen,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that is it&ndash;&ndash;the sun
-is in my eyes.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s the inn!&rdquo; Noreen was uncomfortable. Things
-were not turning out quite as gaily as she hoped. Things
-did not, any more.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Shall I go right to the door with you?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No. I want to go alone. Good-bye, Noreen.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I hope you&rsquo;ll stay a long time!&rdquo; Noreen paused on the
-road.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why, dear?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Because Motherly liked you, and I like you. Good-bye.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>And Mrs. Dana stayed a long time, though after the first
-week her sojourn was marked by incidents, not hours.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Seems like the days of the creation,&rdquo; Peter confided to
-Twombley. &ldquo;Let there be light&ndash;&ndash;there was light! Get the
-Forest to work&ndash;&ndash;and the Forest gets busy! Heard the church
-is going to be opened&ndash;&ndash;and a school. Queer, Twombley,
-how her being a woman and the easy sort, too, doesn&rsquo;t seem
-to stop her none.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Twombley shifted in his chair&ndash;&ndash;the two men were sitting
-in the spring sunshine by Twombley&rsquo;s door.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The Government&rsquo;s behind her!&rdquo; he muttered confidently.
-&ldquo;And, Heathcote, I ain&rsquo;t monkeying with the Government.
-Since that Maclin night&ndash;&ndash;anything the Government asks of
-me, I hold up my hands.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I reckon that&rsquo;s safest.&rdquo; Peter was uplifted, but
-cautious.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s set Peneluna to painting all the houses&ndash;&ndash;yeller,&rdquo;
-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>
-&ldquo;And you know what Peneluna is when she gets a
-start. Colour&rsquo;s mighty satisfying, Peneluna says; but I
-guess there&rsquo;s more in it than just colour. The Pointers get
-touchy about dirt, and creepy insects showing up on the
-&rsquo;tarnal paint that&rsquo;s slushed everywhere.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Mighty queer doings!&rdquo; Heathcote agreed.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;The women are plumb crazy over this government
-woman,&rdquo; Twombley went on, &ldquo;and the children lap out of
-her hand. She and Mary-Clare are together early and late.
-Thick as corn mush.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Peter drew his chair closer.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Her and Mary-Clare is writing up the doings of the
-Forest,&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;Writing things allas makes me
-nervous. What&rsquo;s writ&ndash;&ndash;is fixed.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Gosh! Heathcote; it&rsquo;s like the Judgment Day and no
-place to hide in!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s about it, Twombley. No place to hide in.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;not so cruel as the
-last&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;she
-thought she saw a vision.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It is&ndash;&ndash;you, ain&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; she gasped.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s left of me&ndash;&ndash;yes.&rdquo; There was a strange new note
-in Rivers&rsquo;s voice.</p>
-<p>Jan-an&rsquo;s horror-filled eyes took in the significance of the
-words.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s&ndash;&ndash;the rest of you?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;I paid a debt with the rest,&rdquo; he said, and there was that
-in his voice that brought Jan-an closer to him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Where yer bound for?&rdquo; she asked, her dull face quivering.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. A fellow gave me a lift and dropped me&ndash;&ndash;here.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You come along home!&rdquo; Jan-an bent and half lifted
-Larry. &ldquo;Lean on me. There, now, lean heavy and take it
-easy.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Larry!&rdquo; she faltered. She was utterly unprepared.
-She had been kept in ignorance of the little that others knew.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&ndash;&ndash;I&rsquo;m played out&ndash;&ndash;but I can go on.&rdquo; Larry&rsquo;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>&ldquo;You have come&ndash;&ndash;home, Larry! Home. Your father&rsquo;s
-home.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>And then Larry&rsquo;s head rested on her shoulder; her arms
-upheld him, for the crutch clattered to the floor.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;My father&rsquo;s home,&rdquo; he repeated like a hurt child&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;that&rsquo;s
-it&ndash;&ndash;my father&rsquo;s home.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;Perhaps, if I pay and pay&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;he had pleaded with the sad
-thing&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;I can win out yet!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s
-head upon her tiny shoulder, Noreen sang him to sleep.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re my baby, daddy-linkum, and I&rsquo;m your motherly.
-Come, shut your eyes, and lall a leep!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s great, this being home!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad home was here for you to come to, Larry.&rdquo;
-Mary-Clare felt her heart beat quicker&ndash;&ndash;not with love, but
-the growing fear.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Are you, honest?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Larry. Honest.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I wonder.&rdquo; It was the old voice now. &ldquo;When I lay
-out there, and crawled along&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Please, Larry, we have agreed not to talk of that!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know, but even then, while I was crawling, I got
-to thinking what I was crawling back to&ndash;&ndash;and counting the
-chances and whether it was worth while.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Please, Larry!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; Then, in the new voice: &ldquo;You&rsquo;re beautiful,
-Mary-Clare. Sometimes, sitting here, I get to wondering if
-I really ever saw you before. Second sight, you know.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, second sight, Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And Noreen&ndash;&ndash;she is mine, Mary-Clare.&rdquo; This was
-flung out defiantly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Part yours. Yes, Larry.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s a great kid. Old as the hills and then again&ndash;&ndash;a
-baby-thing.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;We must not strain her, Larry, we cannot afford to put
-too heavy a load on her. She would bear it until she dropped.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t get talking booky, Mary-Clare. You don&rsquo;t as
-much as you once did.&rdquo; A pause, then hardly above a
-whisper: &ldquo;Do you go to the cabin in the woods now,
-Mary-Clare?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t been there for a long while, Larry.&rdquo; Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-hands clutched each other until the bones ached.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, Mary-Clare, God knows I am, for what I did
-up there. It was the note as drove me mad. Across&ndash;&ndash;over
-there, I used to read that note, you and he were queer
-lots.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Larry, I will not talk about that&ndash;&ndash;ever!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t forgive?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I have forgiven long ago.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Nothing happened between you and him, Mary-Clare.
-You&rsquo;re great stuff. Great! And so is he.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>A thin, blue-veined hand stole out and rested on Mary-Clare&rsquo;s
-head and Mary-Clare looked down at the empty place
-where Larry&rsquo;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>&ldquo;When I&rsquo;m well, Mary-Clare, you&rsquo;ll be everything to
-me, won&rsquo;t you? We&rsquo;ll begin again. You, me, and little
-Noreen. You are lovely, girl! The lights in your hair
-dance, your neck is white, and&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The heart of Mary-Clare seemed to stop as the groping
-fingers touched her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Look at me, Mary-Clare!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was the tone of the conqueror in the words&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;You mean you do not care?&rdquo; Larry&rsquo;s voice shook like
-a frightened child&rsquo;s; &ldquo;that you&rsquo;ll never care?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I care tremendously, Larry, and I will do my best. But
-you must not ask for more.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good God! and I crawled back for this!&rdquo; The words
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span>
-ended in a sob; &ldquo;for this! I thought I could pay but I
-cannot&ndash;&ndash;ever, ever!&rdquo;</p>
-<hr class='tb' />
-<p>And in the distant city Helen Northrup waited for her
-son. There had been a cable&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Mother!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Helen paused&ndash;&ndash;her pen held lightly&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;s imagination.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t seem possible, you know!&rdquo; he said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Being home, dear?&rdquo; Helen watched him. Every new
-line of his fine brown face made her lips firmer.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;d given up hope, and then when hope grew again
-I was afraid to crawl back. You&rsquo;ll laugh, but I was afraid
-to come home and find things just the same! I couldn&rsquo;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&rsquo;s all a mistake for our home
-folks to think they&rsquo;re doing the best for us by trying to fool
-us into forgetting.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Brace, we&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>They were both thinking of Kathryn. Monstrous as it
-might seem, Brace recalled her as she looked that day&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;I ought not keep you, son,&rdquo; she said weakly. &ldquo;You
-ought to go to Kathryn. No filial duty toward me, dear!
-I&rsquo;m a terribly self-sufficient woman.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Bully! And that&rsquo;s why I want to have dinner with you
-alone. I&rsquo;ve got used to the self-sufficient woman&ndash;&ndash;I like
-her.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>It was long after eight o&rsquo;clock, that first evening, when
-Northrup left his mother&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;only
-so could he justify what he had endured. His starved
-senses, too, rose to reinforce him. He craved the beauty,
-sweetness, and tenderness&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Will you wait, sir, in the reception-room?&rdquo; The trim
-maid looked flurried. &ldquo;I will tell Miss Kathryn at once.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;the library door&ndash;&ndash;and it seemed to
-set free Kathryn&rsquo;s nervous, metallic laugh and Sandy Arnold&rsquo;s
-hard, indignant words:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the hurry? I guess I understand.&rdquo; Almost it
-seemed as if the girl were pushing the man before her. &ldquo;I
-was good enough to pass the time with; pay for your fun
-while you weighed the chances.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Please, Sandy, you are cruel.&rdquo; Kathryn was pleading.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Cruel be damned! And what are you? I want you&ndash;&ndash;you&rsquo;ve
-told me that you loved me&ndash;&ndash;what&rsquo;s the big idea?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! Sandy, do lower your voice. Aunt Anna will think
-the servants are quarrelling.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right.&rdquo; Sandy&rsquo;s voice sank a degree. &ldquo;But I&rsquo;m
-going to put this to you square&ndash;&ndash;&ndash;&rdquo; The two above had
-come to the dividing stairways.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What in thunder!&rdquo; Sandy gave a coarse laugh. &ldquo;Keeping
-to the servant notion, eh? Want me to go out the side
-door? Why?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! Sandy, you won&rsquo;t mind?&ndash;&ndash;I have a reason, I&rsquo;ll tell
-you some day.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>There was a pause, a scuffle. Then:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Sandy, you are hurting me!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, don&rsquo;t struggle then. Listen. I&rsquo;m going away
-for two weeks. You promise if Northrup comes home, during
-that time, to tell him?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes; yes, dear,&rdquo; the words came pantingly smothered.
-&ldquo;All right, and if you don&rsquo;t, I will! I&rsquo;m not the kind to see
-a woman sacrifice herself for duty. By the Lord! Northrup
-shall know from you&ndash;&ndash;or me! Now kiss me!&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></div>
-<p>There were the hurried steps&ndash;&ndash;down the side stairs!
-Then flying ones to the library&ndash;&ndash;the maid was on her way
-with her message&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;Brace! Brace!&rdquo; she cried, her lovely eyes widening.
-&ldquo;You have come.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You see, I happened to hear you and Arnold.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn&rsquo;s face went deadly white.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I had to tell him something, Brace; you know how Sandy
-is&ndash;&ndash;I knew I could explain to you; you would understand.&rdquo;
-The pitiful, futile words and tone did not reach Northrup
-with appeal.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You can explain,&rdquo; he said harshly, &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;what he just made you promise to tell me?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Kathryn stood still, breathing hard.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes or no!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said gaspingly.</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;You mean you love Arnold; that only duty held you
-to me?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, by God!&rdquo; Northrup flung his head back and
-laughed&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;and after all I have been fearing, too!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>To her dying day Kathryn never knew what he meant by
-those words. There was a moment&rsquo;s silence, then Northrup
-spoke again:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think there is anything more to say. Shall I
-take the side entrance?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Outside, the summer night was growing sultry; a sound of
-thunder broke the heavy quiet of the dark street&ndash;&ndash;it brought
-back memories that were evil things to remember just then.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; Northrup thought, &ldquo;we&rsquo;re coming back to
-all kinds of hells.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;but his mother&rsquo;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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve about concluded,&rdquo; he said harshly, &ldquo;that the fellows
-who keep to the herd are the sensible ones.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The words conveyed no meaning to Helen Northrup, but
-the tones did.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Sit down, dear,&rdquo; she said calmly. &ldquo;If this shower
-strikes us, I do not want to be alone.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup drew a chair to the window and the red flashes
-lighted his face luridly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Having ideals is rot. Dying for them, madness. Mother,
-it&rsquo;s all over between Kathryn and me!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Helen&rsquo;s own development had done more for her than she
-would ever realize, but from out its strength and security
-she spoke:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Brace, I am glad! Now you can live your ideals.&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></div>
-<p>Northrup turned sharply.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; he said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! we&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know that, of course.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Women whose honour is as high and clear as that of the
-best of men.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Mother.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;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>&ldquo;The storm seems to be passing,&rdquo; she said quietly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, and the air is cooler.&rdquo; Northrup stood up and
-his face was no longer hopeless. &ldquo;Are you going to stay in
-town all summer?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Mother, how <i>did</i> you do it?&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;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&rsquo;s maiden name&ndash;&ndash;Helen Dana.
-After that, I just flew ahead.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I won&rsquo;t hold you back. You&rsquo;re too good for that,
-Mother. I&rsquo;ve kept the old tower room. I&rsquo;m going to try
-to finish my book, now. Somehow I got to thinking it
-dead; but lately I&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;I
-thought he was going to cry. Queer how a fellow remembered
-things like that over there. The little snapshots were
-fixed pictures&ndash;&ndash;and some rather big-sized things shrank.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>They bade each other good-night. Mother and son,
-they looked marvellously alike at that moment. Then:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I declare, I almost forgot Manly. How has this all
-struck him, Mother?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Helen&rsquo;s face was radiant.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Gave up everything! His hard-won position, his late
-comfort and ease. He will have to begin again&ndash;&ndash;he is where
-he says he belongs&ndash;&ndash;mending and patching.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll reach the top, Mother. Manly&rsquo;s bound for the
-top of things.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;not her&ndash;&ndash;that readjustment
-was slow. How would it have been, he wondered, back in
-the King&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;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&rsquo;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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;there was definiteness
-about it that suggested a human hand sending forth a
-friendly greeting.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Queer!&rdquo; 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. &ldquo;Come in, Mary-Clare will be
-back soon. She never stays long.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;So you&rsquo;ve been over there, too?&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ve been there,&rdquo; Larry answered. &ldquo;When I came
-back, I had nowhere else to go. Northrup, you wonder
-why I am here. Good God! How I&rsquo;ve wanted to tell you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m here, too, Rivers. Life has been stronger than
-either of us. We&rsquo;ve both drifted back.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Northrup, let me talk to you. Let me plunge in&ndash;&ndash;before
-any one comes. They won&rsquo;t let me talk. It&rsquo;s like
-being in prison. It&rsquo;s hell. I&rsquo;ve thought of you, you&rsquo;re the
-only one who can really help. And I dared not even ask
-for you!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Larry was now nervously twisting his fingers, and his
-face grew ashen.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m listening, Rivers. Go on.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;They&ndash;&ndash;they couldn&rsquo;t understand, anyway,&rdquo; Larry broke
-in. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve got a fixed idea of me; they wouldn&rsquo;t know
-what it was that changed me, but you will.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Everyone&rsquo;s kind. I haven&rsquo;t anything to complain of,
-but good God! Northrup, I&rsquo;m dying, and what&rsquo;s to be done&ndash;&ndash;must
-be done quickly. You&ndash;&ndash;see how it is?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Rivers, I see.&rdquo; There could be no mercy in deceiving
-this desperate man.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I knew you would. Day after day, lately, I&rsquo;ve been
-saying that over in my mind. I remembered the night in the
-shack on the Point. I knew you would understand!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Perhaps your longing brought me, Rivers. Things like
-that happen, you know.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup, moved by pity, laid his hand on the shrunken
-ones near him. All feeling of antagonism was gone.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It began the night I was shot,&rdquo; Larry&rsquo;s voice fell,
-<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span>
-&ldquo;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>&ldquo;There were two of us that night, Northrup, two of us
-crawling away from the hell in the dark. You know!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Rivers, I know.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d never met him&ndash;&ndash;the other chap&ndash;&ndash;before, but we got
-talking to each other, when we could, so as to&ndash;&ndash;to keep
-ourselves alive. I told him about Mary-Clare and Noreen.
-I couldn&rsquo;t think of anything else. There didn&rsquo;t seem to
-be anything else. The other fellow hadn&rsquo;t any one, he
-said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;When help came, there was only room for one. One had
-to wait.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That other chap,&rdquo; Larry moistened his lips in the old
-nervous fashion that Northrup recalled, &ldquo;that other chap
-kept telling them about my wife and child&ndash;&ndash;he said he could
-wait; but they must take me!</p>
-<p>&ldquo;God! Northrup, I think I urged them to take him.
-I hope I did, but I cannot remember&ndash;&ndash;I might not have,
-you know. I can remember what he said, but I can&rsquo;t recall
-what I said.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I think, Rivers, you played fair!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Why? Northrup, what makes you think that?&rdquo; The
-haggard face seemed to look less ghastly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen others do it at such a time.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Others like me?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Rivers, many times.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, there were weeks when nothing mattered,&rdquo; Larry
-went on, &ldquo;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&ndash;&ndash;worth
-while.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;When I got to counting up what I&rsquo;d gone through and
-holding to the new way I felt, I began to get well&ndash;&ndash;and&ndash;&ndash;then
-I came home. Came to my father&rsquo;s house, Northrup&ndash;&ndash;that&rsquo;s
-what Mary-Clare said when she saw me.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what it is&ndash;&ndash;my father&rsquo;s house. You catch on?&rdquo;</p>
-<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></div>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Rivers, I catch on.&rdquo; Then after a pause: &ldquo;Let
-me light the lamp.&rdquo; But Rivers caught hold of him.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;No, don&rsquo;t waste time&ndash;&ndash;they may come back at any
-moment&ndash;&ndash;there&rsquo;ll never be another chance.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;All right, go on, Rivers.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t much more to say. I wanted you to know
-that I&rsquo;m not going to be in the way very long.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You and I talked man to man once back there in the
-shack. Northrup, we must do it now. We needn&rsquo;t be damned
-fools. I&rsquo;ve got a line on Mary-Clare and yes, thank God! on
-you. I can trust you both. She mustn&rsquo;t know. When it&rsquo;s
-all over, I want her to have the feeling that she&rsquo;s played
-square. She has, but if she thought I felt as I do to-day,
-it would hurt her. You understand? She&rsquo;s like that.
-Why, she&rsquo;s fixed it up in her mind that I&rsquo;m going to pull
-through, and she&rsquo;s braced to do her part to the end; but&rdquo;&ndash;&ndash;here
-Larry paused, his dull eyes filled with hot tears; his
-strength was almost gone&ndash;&ndash;&ldquo;but I wanted you to help her&ndash;&ndash;if
-it means what it once did to you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It means that and more, Rivers.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;It&ndash;&ndash;it won&rsquo;t be long, Northrup&ndash;&ndash;there&rsquo;s damned little
-I can do to&ndash;&ndash;to make good, but&ndash;&ndash;I can do this.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;they swept all before them.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rivers, you are a brave man,&rdquo; he slowly said. &ldquo;Will
-you shake hands?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The thin cold fingers instantly responded.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s
-solution of his problems.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh, it always has to be someone to help me out,&rdquo; he said.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You know about Maclin?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Rivers.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Well, I did the turn for that damned scoundrel. I got
-the Forest out of his clutches.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, you did when you got your eyes opened, Rivers.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re open now, Northrup, but there always has to
-be&ndash;&ndash;someone to help me out.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Rivers, where is your wife?&rdquo; So suddenly did Northrup
-ask this that Larry started and gave a quick laugh.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She went to that cabin of hers&ndash;&ndash;you know?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Both men were reliving old scenes.</p>
-<p>Then Larry spoke, but the laugh no longer rang in his tone:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll be coming, by now, down the trail,&rdquo; he whispered.
-&ldquo;Go and meet her, tell her you&rsquo;ve been here, that I told you
-where she was&ndash;&ndash;nothing more! Nothing more. Ever!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right, never!&rdquo; Northrup murmured. Then he
-added:</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll come back with her, Rivers, soon. I&rsquo;m going to stay
-at the inn for a time.&rdquo;</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&ndash;&ndash;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&ndash;&ndash;then the quick red
-rose threateningly, the eyes dimmed.</p>
-<p>Northrup did not speak&ndash;&ndash;he could not. With gratitude he
-presently saw the dear head lift bravely, the trembling smile
-curl her cold lips.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You&ndash;&ndash;have come!&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Mary-Clare.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;How&ndash;&ndash;did you know&ndash;&ndash;where I was?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I stopped at the yellow house. I saw your&ndash;&ndash;I saw Larry&ndash;&ndash;he
-told me where to find you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He told you that?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>The bravery flickered&ndash;&ndash;but pride rallied.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He is very changed.&rdquo; The words were chosen carefully.
-&ldquo;He is very patient and&ndash;&ndash;and Noreen loves him. She never
-could have, if he had not come back! She&ndash;&ndash;well, you remember
-how she used to take care of me?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, Mary-Clare.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She takes care of her father in that way, now that she
-understands his need.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She would. That would be Noreen&rsquo;s way.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, her way. And I am glad he came back to us. It
-might all have been so different.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;Yes, Mary-Clare. Your old philosophy has proved itself.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I am glad you believe that.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! I am glad to hear you say that.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Mary-Clare caught her breath.</p>
-<p>There seemed to be nothing to keep them apart now&ndash;&ndash;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>&ldquo;You&ndash;&ndash;you are happy? And your book?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;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!&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;You know I went across the water to do my part?&rdquo; he
-asked quickly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You would, of course. That call found such men as you.
-Larry went, too!&rdquo; This came proudly.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, and he paid more than I did, Mary-Clare.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;He had more to pay&ndash;&ndash;there was Maclin. Do you know
-about Maclin?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes. It was damnable. We all scented the evil, but
-we&rsquo;re not the sort of people to believe such deviltry until it&rsquo;s
-forced upon us.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;It frightened us all terribly,&rdquo; Mary-Clare&rsquo;s voice would
-always hold fear when she spoke of Maclin. &ldquo;I do not know
-what would have happened to the Forest if&ndash;&ndash;a Mrs. Dana
-had not come just when things were at the worst.&rdquo;</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! &ldquo;You have
-heard of Mrs. Dana?&rdquo; Mary-Clare asked. That Northrup
-knew so much did not surprise her.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, of course! And it would be like her to drop in at
-the psychological moment.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She set us to work!&rdquo; Mary-Clare went on. &ldquo;She is the
-most wonderful woman I ever knew.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;She must be!&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s chair was drawn close
-and upon its arm Noreen was perched.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;They always leave it so for me,&rdquo; Mary-Clare whispered.
-&ldquo;You see how everything is?&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I see, Mary-Clare.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>Northrup reached forth and drew the small clasped hands
-into his own!&ndash;&ndash;then he bent and kissed them.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I see, I see.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;And you will come in? Larry loves company.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Not to-night, Mary-Clare, but to-morrow. I am going
-to stay at the inn for a few days.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! I am glad!&rdquo; Almost the brave voice broke.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;There is something else I see, my dear,&rdquo; Northrup
-ignored the poor disguise for a moment. &ldquo;I see the meaning
-of <i>you</i> as I never saw it before. You have never broken
-faith! That is above all else&ndash;&ndash;it is all else.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;I have tried.&rdquo; Upon the clasped hands tears fell, but
-Northrup caught the note of joy in her grieving voice.</p>
-<p>&ldquo;You have carried on what your doctor entrusted to you.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Oh! thank you, bless you for saying that.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>&ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo; Northrup released the cold hands&ndash;&ndash;they
-clung for a moment in a weak, human way. &ldquo;There is to-morrow,
-you know,&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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&ndash;&ndash;it must be a
-safe place for her to rest in, by and by. &ldquo;She has kept the
-faith with life,&rdquo; Northrup thought. &ldquo;She will keep it with
-death&ndash;&ndash;but love must keep faith with her.&rdquo;</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 -->
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-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
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-End of Project Gutenberg's At the Crossroads, by Harriet T. Comstock
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of At the Crossroads, by Harriet T. Comstock
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: At the Crossroads
-
-Author: Harriet T. Comstock
-
-Illustrator: Walter De Maris
-
-Release Date: September 26, 2009 [EBook #30095]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ASCII
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AT THE CROSSROADS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
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-
-
-
-
-AT THE CROSSROADS
-
-
-
-
-BOOKS BY HARRIET T. COMSTOCK
-
-  A Little Dusky Hero
-  A Son of the Hills
-  At the Crossroads
-  Camp Brave Pine
-  Janet of the Dunes
-  Joyce of the North Woods
-  Mam'selle Jo
-  Princess Rags and Tatters
-  The Man Thou Gavest
-  The Place Beyond the Winds
-  The Shield of Silence
-  The Vindication
-  Unbroken Lines
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: "_It might have seemed an empty house but for the
-appearance of care and a curl of smoke from the chimney._"]
-
-
-
-
-AT THE CROSSROADS
-
-BY
-
-HARRIET T. COMSTOCK
-
-FRONTISPIECE BY
-
-WALTER DE MARIS
-
-GARDEN CITY--NEW YORK
-
-DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
-
-1922
-
-
-
-
-COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
-
-ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO
-FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
-
-PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS,
-GARDEN CITY, N.Y.
-
-
-
-
-AT THE CROSSROADS
-
-
-
-
-AT THE CROSSROADS
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Manly was impressionistic in his methods of thought and expression.
-Every stroke told.
-
-The telephone had not rung for fifteen minutes but both men knew its
-potentialities and wanted to make the most of the silence.
-
-"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!"
-
-Manly looked at his friend and scowled.
-
-"Rot!" he ejaculated. Then added: "The world would not perish if you
-didn't write again."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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!"
-
-Northrup's face flushed.
-
-"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."
-
-"I wonder, Manly, I wonder. It's more like a divining rod to me,
-finding souls."
-
-"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 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."
-
-The telephone here interrupted.
-
-"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."
-
-Then he turned back to Northrup as if disfiguring a woman were a
-matter of no importance.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"What jogged you, Manly?"
-
-This was daring. People rarely questioned Manly.
-
-"It was seeing my soul!" Quite simply the answer came.
-
-There was a long, significant silence. Both men had to travel back to
-the commonplace and they felt their way gingerly.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup got up slowly.
-
-"I wonder if there is such a place?" he muttered.
-
-"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!"
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 the expression changed to one of
-startled wonder. It was the expression of one who, never expecting a
-surprise, suddenly is taken unawares.
-
-"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----"
-
-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.
-
-"The inn is three miles down the south road; the lake is just beyond.
-Follow that. They serve dinner at the inn at one."
-
-The voice was like the eyes, friendly, vital, and lovely.
-
-Then, as if staged, a clock set on a high shelf announced in crisp,
-terse tones the hour of twelve.
-
-"Thank you."
-
-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:
-
-"Now that he's gone, please go on. You got to where----"
-
-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."
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-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: "... _or
-a woman's face!_"
-
-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.
-
-"I might be a thousand miles from home," Northrup thought as he swung
-along.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-This was laughable.
-
-Northrup would not have been surprised at that moment to have seen The
-Face in the flaming bushes by the roadside.
-
-"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 fancies. There was not. The gold and
-scarlet hills rose unbroken to the left and the road wound divertingly
-by the lake.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-There was a stirring inside, a dog gave a sleepy grunt, and a man's
-voice called out:
-
-"The bolt's off."
-
-It would seem that doors were incidental barriers in King's Forest. No
-one was expected to regard them seriously.
-
-Northrup entered and then stood still.
-
-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.
-
-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 rosy, genial face; the eyes were
-small, keen, and full of humour, the voice had already given a
-suggestion of welcome.
-
-"You are Mr. Heathcote, I suppose?"
-
-Northrup was subconsciously aware of the good old mahogany furniture;
-the well-kept appearance of everything.
-
-"You've struck it right. Will you set?"
-
-"Thanks."
-
-Northrup took the chair opposite the master of the inn.
-
-"My name is Northrup, Brace Northrup from New York."
-
-"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.
-
-"Yes. I've taken my time, been a week on the way and, incidentally,
-recovering from an illness."
-
-"Pausing or staying on?"
-
-Northrup meant to say "pausing"; instead he found himself stating that
-he'd like to stay on if he could be accommodated.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Polly, this is Mr. Northrup, from New York"--was there 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."
-
-The woman regarded the candidate for her favour much as she might
-have a letter of introduction; quite impersonally but decidedly
-judicially.
-
-"If Mr. Northrup will take pot luck and _as is_, I think he can stay,
-brother."
-
-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.
-
-"Thank you," he ventured, "you'll find me most grateful and
-adaptable."
-
-"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."
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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."
-
-Devoutly Northrup vowed he'd be no snag.
-
-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.
-
-The water was ruffled now; the reflections trembled and the lapping
-was more insistent.
-
-The food was excellent. Aunt Polly had prepared it and watched, with a
-true artist's eye, her guest's appreciation of it.
-
-"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 _and_ soul."
-
-Heathcote chuckled.
-
-"And right you are, Aunt Polly!" Northrup said, watching the effect of
-his familiarity. Nothing occurred. He was being taken for granted.
-
-Bits of history crept into the easy conversation during the meal.
-Apparently meal-time was a function at the inn, not an episode.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Is there a village?" Northrup asked.
-
-"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!"
-
-Peter paused. Sustained conversation always made him pant and gave
-Polly an opportunity to edge in.
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Aunt Polly was picturesque. Peter eyed her admiringly and gave his
-comfortable chuckle.
-
-"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 _make_ 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."
-
-"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."
-
-"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?'"
-
-Northrup smiled grimly. This all fitted into his own vague mood of
-unreality.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes"--Polly began gathering the dishes--"it's what happens while one
-stops, that counts. That, and what one leaves behind, when he passes
-on. It's real queer, though, to have any one staying on this season of
-the year."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"I wonder who she is, and why she looks as she does?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup called himself to order just here. He wasn't going to be an
-ass, not if he could help it!
-
-"Strange voice!" he thought on. "It had _calls_ in it. I _am_ an ass!"
-he admitted, and in order to get the better of the situation he turned
-sharply and went back to the inn.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Maclin just then was the hub from which the spokes of curiosity led.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-He liked Northrup, believed in him, and while he sat and nursed his
-leg, he let Polly do her hinting.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Is there a church around here?" Northrup asked at last.
-
-"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."
-
-"What is the bell ringing for?" Northrup roused, more because the
-name of Mary-Clare had been introduced than because the bell
-interested him.
-
-He knew, now, that the girl in the yellow house was Mary-Clare. Her
-name slipped into sound frequently, but that was all.
-
-"Who is ringing the bell?"
-
-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.
-
-"No human hands are ringing the bell," she remarked quietly. "I hold
-one notion, Peter another. _I_ say the _bell_ is ha'nted; calling,
-calling folks, making them remember!"
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Then, as if the question escaped without his sanction and quite to his
-consternation, Northrup spoke again:
-
-"Who lives in the yellow house by the crossroads?"
-
-This was not honest. Northrup knew _who_. What he wanted to say, but
-had not dared, was: "Tell me about her."
-
-"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!"
-
-This slur escaped Peter, he was intent upon Northrup's question.
-
-"Seen that girl in the yellow house?" he asked. "Great girl,
-Mary-Clare. Great girl."
-
-"I stopped there on my way here to ask directions. Rather unusual
-looking girl."
-
-"She is that!" Peter nodded. Mary-Clare was about the only bit of
-romance Peter permitted himself. "Remember the night Mary-Clare was
-born, Polly?"
-
-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.
-
-Peter was in his element and drawled on:
-
-"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."
-
-"You needn't be sacrilegious, brother," Polly interjected. "The story
-won't lose anything by holding to reverence."
-
-"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 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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Good God!" ejaculated Northrup. "That's the grimmest tale I ever
-listened to. What came next?"
-
-"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?"
-
-Aunt Polly lifted the sock she was knitting and wiped her eyes.
-
-"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.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"So! that is your old doctor's place down by the crossroads?" he said
-with a genuine sense of relief.
-
-"It was. Ole Doc died seven years back."
-
-"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.
-
-"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 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!"
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-"I'm afraid you're tiring Brace, brother."
-
-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.
-
-"On the other hand," Northrup gave a relieved laugh, "I am intensely
-interested. You see, she looks so young, that Mrs.--Mrs.----"
-
-"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:
-
-"Yes; Mary-Clare holds her own and her boy-togs help the idea.
-Mary-Clare ain't properly grown up, anyway. 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."
-
-"How ridiculous you _are_, brother." Aunt Polly was enjoying her
-brother's flights, but felt called upon to keep him in order.
-
-"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.
-
-"'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:
-
-"'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, 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.
-
-"'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!'
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"Satisfied, _I_ say!" broke in Aunt Polly. "It _was_ 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."
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"How has it worked out?" Northrup heard the words as if another spoke
-them.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"I don't know as you ought to talk so free, brother." Polly looked
-dubious.
-
-"In the meantime," Northrup said quietly, "the little wife lives alone
-in the yellow house, waiting?" He hadn't heard Polly's caution.
-
-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?
-
-"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?"
-
-Again Northrup felt as he had that day by the lightning-shattered
-tree.
-
-"Her little girl?" he asked slowly, and Aunt Polly raised her eyes to
-his face. She looked troubled, vaguely uneasy.
-
-"Yep!" Peter rose stiffly. He wanted to go to bed. "Noreen's the
-saving from the litter. How many was there, Polly?"
-
-Polly got upon her feet, the trouble-look growing in her eyes.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"I am going to write!"
-
-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.
-
-"I think I'll turn in," he said, stifling a yawn, "Good-night."
-
-"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!"
-
-She smiled up at her guest as if he were an old friend--come back!
-
-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:
-
-  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 _do_
-  go on I want to do the job thoroughly and for a time lose myself.
-  I will wait your word, Mother.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-While he undressed, Northrup was sketching his plot mentally. In the
-morning it would be _fixed_; it would be more like copying than
-creating when a pen was resorted to.
-
-"I'll take that girl in the yellow house and do no end of things with
-her. Dual personality! Lord, and in this stagnant 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."
-
-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!
-
-Three days later a telegram came from Mrs. Northrup.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 nature to
-decide whether Kathryn Morris's silences brooded over a rare storeroom
-of treasure or over a haunted and empty chamber.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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
-_thought_ of it. Aloud she said, with that ravishing look of hers:
-
-"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."
-
-"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 _and_ 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.
-
-"Where do you think he'll go?" Kathryn asked.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Manly was impressed and while he was off on that scent, somehow
-Northrup got into the conversation.
-
-"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 _is_ disturbing."
-
-Here Kathryn quoted it and Manly grinned.
-
-"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."
-
-"Some of us have duties." Kathryn looked noble and self-sacrificing.
-
-"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 _is_ a job in his
-case. You wouldn't expect a travelling salesman to hang around his
-shop all the time, would you?"
-
-Kathryn had never had any experience with travelling salesmen--she
-wasn't clear as to their mission in life. So she said doubtfully:
-
-"I suppose not."
-
-"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
-_woman_ 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."
-
-Kathryn's eyes contracted, then she laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"They're as bitter as--well, they're quinine. You need toning up."
-
-"You think I need a change?" The tone was pensive.
-
-"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."
-
-"Which one, Doctor Manly?"
-
-"The one who is on her feet most."
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"I do, Noreen. It has been ten whole days since I had them."
-
-"Well, Motherly, why don't you go?"
-
-"And leave my baby alone?"
-
-"I'll get Jan-an to come!"
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes," Noreen sweetly acquiesced. "I'll come to the--the----" she
-waited for the word.
-
-"Yawning Gap," suggested the mother, reverting to a dearly loved
-romance.
-
-"Yes. I'll come to the Yawning Gap and I'll give the call."
-
-"And I'll call back: _Oh! wow!--Oh! wo!_" The musical voice rose like
-a flute and Noreen danced about.
-
-"And I'll answer: _wo wow!--oh!_" The piping tones were also
-flute-like, an echo of the mother's.
-
-"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."
-
-"Ah! yes, Motherly. It will be such fun. But if Jan-an can come here
-to stay, then what?" the voice faltered.
-
-"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."
-
-"Both ways are beautiful ways, Motherly. I don't know which is
-bestest."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Looking back over the years of her married life, Mary-Clare often
-wondered how she could have endured them but for the vision and
-strength she received in her "Place," as she whimsically called
-it--getting her idea from a Bible verse.
-
-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:
-
-  And the woman fled into the wilderness where she hath a place
-  prepared of God that they should feed her there.
-
-The words, roughly carved, were traced on the east wall of the cabin
-and under a picture of Father Damien.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Mary-Clare had come to a sharp turn on her road and, as yet, she
-could not see her way! She had drifted--she could, with Larry
-away--but now he was coming home!
-
-She had tried, God knew, for three long months to be sure. She _must_
-be sure, she was like that; sure that she _felt_ her way to be the
-_right_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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?
-
-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; 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.
-
-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:
-
-_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._
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-It had all seemed so simple, when one did not know!
-
-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. 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.
-
-Mary-Clare must not desert, as the unmentioned woman had.
-
-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."
-
-He had gone away tolerant, but with a warning: "A man isn't going to
-stand too much!"
-
-These words had been a challenge. There could be no more compromising.
-Pay-day had come for her and Larry.
-
-But the letters!
-
-At this thought Mary-Clare sat up rigidly. A squirrel, that had paused
-at her quiet feet, darted affrightedly across the cabin floor.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-And then the last child came, looked at her with its deep accusing
-eyes and died!
-
-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.
-
-And Larry was coming home. He had not understood when he went away: he
-would not understand now. Still, truth must be faced.
-
-The letters!
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Kiss me!"
-
-"No!"
-
-The words had been explosive. Then Larry had caught the child roughly,
-and Noreen had struck him!
-
-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.
-
-Looking back now, Mary-Clare realized that on the day 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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"Motherly, Motherly, he's come: he's come home!"
-
-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.
-
-"I'm coming, Noreen. I'm coming!" And Mary-Clare staggered on.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-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.
-
-"I was just coming down the path with Jan-an, Motherly, when I saw him
-going in the house."
-
-"Daddy, dear?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Noreen!" The tone was stern and commanding.
-
-"Well, Motherly, Jan-an said that, but maybe she was just funny."
-
-"Of course. Just funny. We must always remember, Noreen, that poor
-Jan-an is just funny."
-
-"Yes, Motherly."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-All day, with Jan-an's assistance, Mary-Clare prepared for the
-creature comforts of her husband; while Noreen 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.
-
-"I jes don't like the feelings I have," the girl reiterated; "I'm
-creepy."
-
-Mary-Clare packed a bag of food for her and patted her shoulder.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Touching Jan-an?" Noreen suggested sleepily.
-
-"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."
-
-"I love the wild wind!" Noreen pressed closer. "I'm not afraid of it.
-And it found Aunt Polly and Uncle Peter?"
-
-"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 _see
-her_ for a minute. And it made Uncle Peter--no; it left Uncle Peter as
-he is!"
-
-"I like that"--drowsily--"and it made us see the man that went to the
-inn?" Noreen lifted her head, suddenly alert.
-
-"What made you think of him, Noreen?" Mary-Clare stopped swaying to
-and fro.
-
-"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 _isn't_. Really we
-only think we see him."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-But Noreen, eyes obediently closed, was pleading in the strange,
-foolish jargon of her rare moments of relaxation:
-
-"You lit and lock, Motherly, and I'll luck my lum, just for to-night,
-and lall aleep."
-
-"All right, beloved; you may, just for to-night, suck the little
-thumb, and fall asleep while Mother rocks."
-
-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.
-
-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 now in the large upper room, only bare
-necessities were left here.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Mary-Clare tried to respond; tried to do her full part--it would all
-help so much, if she only could. But this mood 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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-How long Larry would have kept on it would have been hard to tell, but
-he suddenly looked full at Mary-Clare and--stopped!
-
-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!
-
-"What are you laughing at?" he asked.
-
-"I'm not laughing, Larry."
-
-"What are you smiling at?"
-
-"My smile is my own, Larry; when I laugh it's different."
-
-"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."
-
-There was some justice in this and Mary-Clare said slowly: "I'm sorry,
-Larry. I really was only thinking."
-
-Now that she was face to face with her big moment, Mary-Clare realized
-anew how difficult her task was. Often, in 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.
-
-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.
-
-"See here," he said rather gropingly, "you are not holding a grouch,
-are you?"
-
-"No, Larry."
-
-"What then?"
-
-For a moment Mary-Clare shrank. She weakly wanted to put off the big
-moment; dared not face it.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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.
-
-"You've never been the same since the last baby came." 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----"
-
-The long speech in the face of Mary-Clare's wondering, amazed eyes,
-brought Larry to a panting pause.
-
-"What you got a husband for, anyway, that's what I am asking you?"
-
-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.
-
-"By God! Mary-Clare, what's up? Have you counted the cost of carrying
-on as you are doing? What am I up against?"
-
-"Yes, Larry, I've counted the cost to me and Noreen and you. I'm
-afraid this is what we are all up against."
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Fire away!" Larry nobly suppressed a yawn. Had Mary-Clare said
-simply, "I don't love you any more," Larry 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.
-
-"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?"
-
-No reply came to this.
-
-"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."
-
-"Gee!" Larry shrugged his shoulders.
-
-"Larry, you _must_ try to understand!" Mary-Clare was growing
-desperate.
-
-"Then, try to talk American."
-
-"I am, Larry. _My_ American. That's the trouble--there is more than
-_one_ 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!"
-
-This, at least, was comprehensible.
-
-"Well, you _did_ 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.
-
-"I--why, yes, I am, Larry, but a wife means more than one thing,
-doesn't it?" This came hopelessly.
-
-"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.
-
-"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!"
-
-Just for one moment Larry was inclined to end this shilly-shallying by
-brute determination. He was that type of man. What did not come
-within the zone of his own experience, did not exist for him except as
-obstacles to brush aside.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-The simplicity of the question demanded a crude reply.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-The man attacked the grim spectre with conventional and brutal
-weapons; the woman backed away with a dogged look growing in her
-eyes.
-
-"Oh! you aren't, eh?" Larry spoke slowly. "You've decided, have you?"
-
-"I know what children mean to you, Larry; I know what you mean
-by--love--yes: I've decided!"
-
-"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?
-
-"Name the one particular way in which you're not going 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."
-
-"Oh! Larry, I wish you could be a little kind; a little understanding."
-
-"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."
-
-"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!"
-
-A tone of horror shook Mary-Clare's voice; she choked and Larry came
-closer, his lips were smiling.
-
-"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!"
-
-Mary-Clare gazed dully at him.
-
-"Well, then," she whispered, and her lips grew deadly white, "I do not
-know what to do."
-
-"Do? You'll forget it!" thundered Larry. "And pretty damned quick,
-too!"
-
-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.
-
-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 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.
-
-"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.
-
-"I've fixed the room upstairs for you, Larry."
-
-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.
-
-"The devil you have!" was what he said to gain time.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-"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, I was upset, I spoke too quick. Tell
-me now in your own way. I'll try to understand."
-
-Mary-Clare was taken off guard. Her desire and sore need rushed past
-caution and carried her to Larry.
-
-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."
-
-"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 _as_ they are. I'm
-not going to press you, Mary-Clare, I'm going to try and help you. You
-_are_ my wife, aren't you?"
-
-"Yes, oh! yes, Larry."
-
-"Well, I'm a man and you're a woman."
-
-"Yes, that's so, Larry."
-
-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.
-
-"Marriage was meant for one thing between man and woman!"
-
-This came out triumphantly. Then Mary-Clare threw back her head and
-spiritually retreated to her vantage of safety.
-
-"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."
-
-"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? What's the institution of marriage for,
-anyway?" And now Larry's mouth was again hardening.
-
-"Larry, oh! Larry, please don't make me laugh! If I should laugh there
-would never be any hope of our getting together."
-
-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.
-
-"Who's that man at the inn?" he asked.
-
-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.
-
-"I don't know," she said.
-
-"That's a lie. How long has he been here, snooping around?"
-
-"I haven't the slightest idea, Larry." This was not true, and Larry
-caught the quiver in the tones.
-
-Again he got up and became the masterful male; the injured husband;
-the protector of his home. There were still tactics to be tested.
-
-"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,
-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."
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Unconsciously she was planning her course. She would 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.
-
-Bending toward the dead fire on the hearth, Mary-Clare made her silent
-covenant.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-The storm had kept Northrup indoors for many hours each day, but he
-had put those hours to good use.
-
-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.
-
-"He's writing a book!" Aunt Polly confided to Peter. "But he doesn't
-want anything said about it."
-
-"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 _us_. 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?"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Manly read the letter, grinned, and put it in a box marked "Confidential,
-but unimportant."
-
-Then he leaned back in his chair, and before he relegated Northrup to
-"unimportant," gave him two or three thoughts.
-
-"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 fools"--Manly was thinking of Kathryn--"go nosing
-around and yapping at the creatures' heels and feel hurt when they
-turn and snap."
-
-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.
-
-Northrup had not been long at the inn when the significant dream
-came.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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 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.
-
-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----
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-When the hour came for _court_ 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.
-
-In the latter emergency Northrup sought his exercise and fresh air at
-a distance.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup had seen Maclin from his room window and, when all was safe,
-quietly took to the back stairs and silently reached the piazza.
-
-The window by Aunt Polly's couch was open a little higher than usual
-and the words that greeted Northrup were:
-
-"_I_ call it muggy, Mr. Maclin. That's what _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."
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-Maclin laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"We haven't ever called 'em that, Mr. Maclin. They're folks with
-nowhere else to live." Aunt Polly clicked her needles.
-
-"They're a dirty, lazy lot. I can't get 'em to work over at the mines,
-do what I will."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Maclin laughed. It was a trick of his to laugh while he got control of
-himself.
-
-"You're a real idealist, Miss Heathcote; most ladies are, some men
-are, too, until they have to handle the ugly facts of life."
-
-Peter was meant by "some men," Northrup suspected.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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, you're a
-woman of a thousand and can see what's what, I _am_ 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 _do_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-"How do you feel about it, Miss Heathcote?"
-
-"Oh! I don't let my feelings get the better of me till I know what's
-stirring them."
-
-Northrup stifled a laugh, but Maclin, feeling secure, laughed loudly.
-
-"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 _see_
-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."
-
-"Is her title clear to that land?" Maclin did not laugh now, Northrup
-noted that.
-
-"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."
-
-"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 be peaceful and happy if you will use your
-influence with her and the squatters. Will you?"
-
-Aunt Polly slipped from the sofa. Northrup heard her, and imagined the
-look on her face.
-
-"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!"
-
-Northrup again had difficulty in smothering his laugh, but Maclin's
-next move surprised and sobered him.
-
-"Isn't that place under the stairs, Miss Heathcote, where the bar of
-the old inn used to be?"
-
-"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?"
-
-They were sparring, these two.
-
-"No, it never does. I take things as they are, Miss Heathcote, and let
-them go at that. Now, if _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."
-
-"But you're not running this inn, sir."
-
-"Certainly I'm not _now_, 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."
-
-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.
-
-"Good afternoon," he muttered. "Looks more like clearing, doesn't it?
-Stranger in these parts? I've heard of you; haven't had the pleasure
-of meeting you."
-
-Northrup regarded Maclin coolly as one man does another when there is
-no apparent reason why he should not.
-
-"The clouds _do_ seem lifting. No, I'm not what you might call a
-stranger in King's Forest. Some lake, isn't it, and good woodland?"
-
-"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?"
-
-"I haven't decided exactly."
-
-"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 _can_ be shown."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"I hope you kept your ears open," she exclaimed when she turned to
-Northrup.
-
-"I did, Aunt Polly! Come, sit down and let's talk it over."
-
-Polly obeyed at once and let restraint drop.
-
-"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."
-
-"He cannot get a hold on you, Aunt Polly. Surely your brother is more
-than a match for any one like Maclin."
-
-"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?"
-
-Northrup looked interested.
-
-"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."
-
-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 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 _knowing_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 his
-identity and moves among his fellows, intent on the present, but with
-the background a blank.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 role alarmed him; made every fibre of his being
-stiffen. The man was undoubtedly German, though his name was not. What
-was he up to?
-
-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 cooeperation.
-
-At this point something caused Northrup to look around.
-
-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. The sunny room, the children, the
-dogs, and the girl on the table, who had soon become so familiar to
-him.
-
-"Good Lord!" he ejaculated. "And who are you?"
-
-"Jan-an."
-
-Another name become a person! Northrup smiled. They were all
-materializing; the names, the stories.
-
-"I see. Well?"
-
-There was a pause. The girl was studying him slowly, almost painfully,
-but she did not speak.
-
-"Where do you live, Jan-an?"
-
-This made talk and filled an uncomfortable pause.
-
-"One place and another. I was left."
-
-"Left?"
-
-"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."
-
-The girl was inclined to be friendly and she was amusing.
-
-"Did you hear the bell ring the night you came--the ha'nt bell?" she
-asked.
-
-"I certainly did."
-
-"'Twas a warning, and then here _you_ are! Generally warnings mean bad
-things, but Aunt Polly says you're right enough and generally they
-ain't when they're young."
-
-"Who are not, Jan-an?"
-
-"Men. When they get old, like Uncle Peter, they meller or----"
-
-"Or what?"
-
-"Naturally drop off."
-
-Northrup laughed. The sound disturbed the girl and she scowled.
-
-"It's terrible to have folks think you're a fool to be laughed at,"
-she muttered. "I can't get things over."
-
-"What do you want to get over, Jan-an?"
-
-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 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.
-
-"Yer feelin's," the girl answered simply. "When you don' understand
-like most do, yer feelin's count, they do!"
-
-"They certainly do, Jan-an."
-
-The girl considered this and struggled, evidently, to adjust her
-companion to suit her needs, but at last she shook her head.
-
-"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----"
-
-"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.
-
-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."
-
-"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.
-
-"That's one on me, Jan-an!" Northrup laughed. "I was afraid I'd be
-found out."
-
-"Can't yer read?" Jan-an could not utterly distrust this person who
-was puzzling her.
-
-"Yes, I can read and write, Jan-an."
-
-"Then what in tarnation made yer plump in that way?"
-
-"The Lord knows, Jan-an!" Almost the tone was reverent.
-
-"Then _he_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"He ain't mine. If he was----" Jan-an looked mutinous and Northrup
-laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"Well, that's ridiculous." Northrup found his heart beating a bit
-quicker.
-
-"I know it is, but Maclin can make Larry think anything. Honest to
-God, yer ain't siding 'long of Maclin?"
-
-"Honest to God, Jan-an, I'm not."
-
-"Then why did yer stumble in on us that way?"
-
-"I don't know, Jan-an. That's honest to God, too!"
-
-"Then if nothing is mattering ter yer, and one place is as good as
-another, why don't you go along?"
-
-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.
-
-"Well, Jan-an," he said at last, "it's this way. Things _are_
-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?"
-
-Jan-an was making strenuous efforts to "catch on"; her face appeared
-like a rubber mask that unseen fingers were pinching into comical
-expressions.
-
-Northrup began to wonder just how mentally lacking the girl was.
-
-"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!"
-
-"What thing?"
-
-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.
-
-"What thing?" she asked huskily. Then Northrup laughed that disturbing
-laugh of his.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Good! I'll never be really lonely then, and you'll sooner get to
-trusting me."
-
-"I ain't much for trusting till I knows."
-
-The girl turned and strode away. "Well, if you ever need me, try me
-out, Jan-an. Good-bye."
-
-Northrup felt ill at ease after Jan-an passed from sight.
-
-"Of all the messes!" he thought. "It makes me superstitious. What's
-the matter with this Forest?"
-
-And then Maclin again came into focus. Around Maclin, apparently, the
-public thought revolved.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-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.
-
-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 _had_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-Then Mary-Clare, seized by one of those presentiments that often light
-a dark moment, closed the door, shivering slightly, and went
-upstairs.
-
-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 the fresh, that had
-been placed in the bureau drawers, was rolled in a bundle and flung on
-the hearth.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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 _were_ his letters, but----
-
-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! _so_
-right. There was only one real fact to face. Larry was gone; the
-letters were gone.
-
-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.
-
-Then with white face and chattering teeth she turned and 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.
-
-"What's up?" she asked in her dull, even tones, while in her vacant
-eyes the groping, tender look grew.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-This question steadied Mary-Clare. "I'm not _sure_, Jan-an, that any
-one has _taken_ the letters. You know how careless I am. I may have
-put them somewhere else."
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare gave a nervous laugh.
-
-"Just old letters," she murmured, "but they meant, oh! they meant so
-much. Come," she said suddenly, "come, I must dress and get
-breakfast."
-
-"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!"
-
-Things were reduced to the commonplace in an hour.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare set her cup down sharply while Noreen with one of those
-whimsical turns of hers drawled in a sing-song:
-
-"Old Philander Sniff, he died just like a whiff----"
-
-"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.
-
-"Well, Motherly, Philander was a cruel old man. Just being dead don't
-make him anything different but--dead."
-
-"Noreen, you must keep quiet. Jan-an, tell me about it."
-
-Mary-Clare's voice commanded the situation. Jan-an's stony gurgle
-ceased and she began relating what she had come to tell.
-
-"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."
-
-"Old Philander Sniff----" began Noreen's chant as she slipped from her
-chair intent upon a doll by the hearthside.
-
-Mary-Clare took no notice of her but nodded to Jan-an.
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare visualized the dramatic scene that poor Jan-an was mumbling
-monotonously.
-
-"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 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 _and_ the funeral
-one, both!' Jes' like that she said it. Both!"
-
-"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."
-
-"Take both!" Jan-an was nodding her willingness to obey. And
-Mary-Clare took her prayer-book with her.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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."
-
-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 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.
-
-"Some mightn't," poor Peneluna had said to Aunt Polly in defence of
-Sniff.
-
-As far as any one knew the crabbed old man never spoke to his devoted
-neighbour, but she had never complained.
-
-"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.
-
-She made her way to the far end of the Point, passing wide-eyed
-children at play and curious women in doorways.
-
-"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.
-
-"She will presently," Mary-Clare reassured them. "She'll need you all,
-later."
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-The gaunt old woman was in the rusty black she had kept in readiness
-for years; she wore gloves and bonnet; the long crepe veil and the
-absurd red rose wobbled dejectedly as Peneluna moved about.
-
-"Come in, child, and shut the world out." Then, leading the way to an
-inner room, "Have yer got _both_ services?"
-
-"Yes, Peneluna." Then Mary-Clare started back.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-This was the one thing needed to rouse Mary-Clare.
-
-"I'll do my best, Peneluna," she whispered, and clutched the
-prayer-book.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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 _might_ 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."
-
-Opening the book with stiff, cold fingers, Mary-Clare read softly,
-brokenly, the solemn words.
-
-At the close Peneluna stood up.
-
-"Him and me, Mary-Clare," she said, "'fore God and you is husband and
-wife." Then she removed the red rose from her bonnet, laid it upon
-the folded wrinkled hands of the dead man and drew the sheet over
-him.
-
-Just then, outside the window, a bird flew past, peeped in, fluttered
-away, singing.
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-There was a heavy pause while Mary-Clare waited.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Drifting about in Mary-Clare's thought a scrap of old scandal stirred,
-but it had little to feed on and passed.
-
-"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
-and sings gets like whiskey in the head, and Philander didn't
-rightfully know what he was about."
-
-Peneluna drew the end of her crepe veil up and wiped her eyes.
-
-"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.
-
-"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.'"
-
-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?
-
-But Peneluna was talking on, her poor old face twitching.
-
-"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 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."
-
-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?
-
-When the service came to an end, Peneluna arose and with grave dignity
-walked from the room, Mary-Clare following.
-
-"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."
-
-Then Mary-Clare asked the question that was hurting her with its
-weight.
-
-"Peneluna, was it love, the thing that made you glad, through it all,
-just to wait?"
-
-"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."
-
-"And it paid?"
-
-"I don't know. I only know I was glad, when he called last night, that
-I was waiting."
-
-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.
-
-"What are you going to do now?" she asked.
-
-"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 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."
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-There was a rich gurgle in the flute-like voice; it came floating
-along.
-
-"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."
-
-"All right. Here goes!
-
-    "Up the airy mountain,
-    Down the rustly glen--
-
-that's the way, Noreen, scuffle your feet in the leaves--
-
-    "We daren't go a-hunting
-    For fear of little men.
-    Wee folk, good folk
-    Trooping all together,
-    Green jacket, red cap,
-    And white owl's feather--
-
-Here, you, Noreen, play fair; scuffle and keep step, you little
-beggar!"
-
-"But I may step on the wee men, the good men," again the rich
-chuckle.
-
-"No, you won't if you scuffle and then step high; they'll slip between
-your feet."
-
-Then came the tramp, tramp of the oncoming pair. Big feet, little
-feet. Long strides and short hops.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Thank you, Mr.----"
-
-"Northrup."
-
-"Thank you, Mr. Northrup. You have made Noreen very happy--and she
-does not make friends easily."
-
-"But, Motherly," Noreen was flushed and eager. "_He_ 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?"
-
-Northrup laughed.
-
-"Well, something like that," he admitted. "May I walk along with you,
-Mrs. Rivers? Unless I go around the lake, I must turn back."
-
-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.
-
-"How on earth could she manage to be what she is?" pondered Northrup.
-"She's read and thought to some purpose."
-
-"What does he mean by being here?" pondered Mary-Clare. "This isn't
-just a happening."
-
-But they chatted pleasantly while they pondered.
-
-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.
-
-"She's tired," murmured Mary-Clare, but she knew that that was not
-what ailed Noreen.
-
-And then she looked toward her house. Larry stood in the doorway,
-smoking and smiling.
-
-"Will you come and meet my husband?" she asked of Northrup.
-
-"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.
-
-Mary-Clare nodded. She was mutely thankful when he strode on ahead and
-toward the lake.
-
-It was while they were eating their evening meal that Larry remarked
-casually:
-
-"So that's the Northrup fellow, is it?" Mary-Clare flushed and had a
-sensation of being lassoed by an invisible hand.
-
-"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."
-
-"He seemed to know that you weren't home."
-
-"Children come in handy," Larry smiled pleasantly. "More potato,
-Mary-Clare?"
-
-"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----"
-
-"Why the explanation?" Larry looked blank and again Mary-Clare
-flushed.
-
-"I felt one was needed."
-
-"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."
-
-This was unfortunate, but Larry was ill at ease.
-
-"Maclin doesn't own the Point, Larry."
-
-"You better listen to Maclin and not Peter Heathcote." Larry retraced
-his steps. His doubt of Northrup had led him astray.
-
-Mary-Clare gave him a startled look.
-
-"Maclin's a brute," she said quietly. "I prefer to listen to my
-friends."
-
-"Maclin's our friend. Yours and mine. You'll learn that some day."
-
-"I doubt it, Larry, but he's your employer and I do not forget that."
-
-"I wouldn't. And you're going to change your mind some fine day, my
-girl, about a lot of things."
-
-"Perhaps."
-
-"I'm sleeping outside, Mary-Clare." Larry rose lazily. "I just dropped
-in to--to call." He laughed unpleasantly.
-
-"I'm sorry, Larry, that you feel as you do."
-
-"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."
-
-"All right, Larry." Mary-Clare's eyes flickered. Then: "Why did you
-take those letters?"
-
-Larry looked blankly at her.
-
-"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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Never force a woman," he confided to Larry at that juncture, "that
-is, if she is independent."
-
-"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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 _my_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-And in this mood he reached Maclin; accepted a cigar and stretched his
-feet toward the fire in his owner's office.
-
-Maclin was in a humanly soothing mood. He fairly crooned over Larry
-and could tell to a nicety the workings of his mind.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-This was amusing. Both men guffawed.
-
-"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."
-
-Larry winced and felt the lash on his back. So long had that lash hung
-unused that the stroke now made him cringe.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes?" the word came softly. Was it apologetic or threatening?
-
-There was a pause. Then Maclin unbent.
-
-"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?"
-
-Larry looked back--the way was not a pleasant one.
-
-"Yes," he admitted, "yes, you have, Maclin."
-
-"I know you often get fussed, Rivers, about what you term my _using_
-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. When the public _is_ taken into our confidence,
-we'll all feel repaid. Can you--do you catch on, Larry?"
-
-"It's like catching on to something in the dark," Larry muttered.
-
-"Well, that's something," Maclin said cheerfully. "Something to hold
-to in the dark isn't to be sneered at."
-
-"Depends upon what it is!" Apparently Larry was in a difficult mood.
-Maclin tried a new course.
-
-"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?"
-
-"I just told you what I think about that." Larry misinterpreted
-Maclin's manner and took advantage.
-
-"Larry, I'm going to give you something to chew on because I _am_ your
-friend and because I want you to trust me, even in the dark. The
-fellow Northrup----"
-
-Larry started as if an electric spark had touched him. Maclin appeared
-not to notice.
-
-"--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.
-
-"What tracks?" he asked suspiciously.
-
-"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."
-
-"You know that for a fact, Maclin?"
-
-"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?"
-
-This plunge sent Larry to the wall. When a slow man does make a drive,
-he does deadly work.
-
-"Well, then"--Larry looked sullen--"I've left the house and mean to
-stay out until Mary-Clare comes to her senses!"
-
-"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."
-
-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:
-
-"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 _shown_!"
-
-By this time Larry suspected that much had gone on during his absence
-that Maclin had not confided to him. He was thoroughly aroused.
-
-"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 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."
-
-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?
-
-"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 _get_ 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."
-
-Larry drew a sigh, a heavy one, and began to understand. He saw more
-than Maclin could see.
-
-"She hasn't turned me out," he muttered. "I came out."
-
-"Let her explain that, Rivers. See? She can't do it while she's
-gallivanting with this here Northrup."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-So they turned in and it was the afternoon of the next day when Larry
-took his walk to the Point.
-
-Just as he started forth Maclin gave him two or three suggestions.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"It's a good thing you never troubled the Point, Rivers. They'll be
-more stirred by you now."
-
-"Maybe they'll kick me out."
-
-"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."
-
-So Larry, none too sure of himself, but more cheerful than he had
-been, set forth.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Among the tin cans and ash heaps the children of the 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.
-
-Larry laughed at this and muttered: "Made it in hell, eh, kid?"
-
-The child scowled at him.
-
-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.
-
-"Well, Twombley, how are you?"
-
-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.
-
-"Feeling same as I look," he said at last. He was ready to appraise
-the man before him.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Who's got his place?"
-
-"Peneluna Sniff."
-
-"Was he married?" Floating in Rivers's mind was an old story, but it
-floated too fast for him to catch it.
-
-"She went through the marriage service. That fixes it, don't it?"
-Twombley puffed loudly.
-
-"I suppose it does, but I kind of recall that there was a quarrel
-between them."
-
-"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.
-
-"Didn't Peneluna Sniff, or whatever her name is, live in a house by
-herself?" he asked. He was puzzled.
-
-"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."
-
-"Well, who's got her house?"
-
-"She's got it."
-
-"Empty?"
-
-"I guess the same truck's in it that always was. I ain't seen any
-moving out."
-
-"Is Mrs. Sniff at home?"
-
-"How do you suppose I know, young man? These ain't calling hours on
-the Point."
-
-"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."
-
-Twombley's slits came close together.
-
-"Yes?" was all he vouchsafed.
-
-"Yes. And I wish you'd pass the word along, my friend."
-
-"I don't pass nothing!" Twombley interrupted. "I take all I kin git. I
-make use of what I can. The rest, I chuck."
-
-"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."
-
-"Maclin standing back of yer, young feller?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Gosh! we ain't eager for him to speak. The stiller he is the better
-we like it."
-
-"He knows that. He's given up--he is going to see what I can make you
-feel--I'm one of you, you know that, Twombley."
-
-"Never would have guessed it, son!" Twombley leered.
-
-"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!"
-
-"Gosh! you'll be a shock to Maclin all right."
-
-"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."
-
-Larry could be a most important-appearing person when there was no one
-to prick his little bubble. Twombley eyed his visitor calmly.
-
-"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!"
-
-"What then, Twombley?"
-
-"Oh! nothing. Only as long as yer breeches hold and the nail don't
-come out, yer keep on looking!"
-
-Again Twombley spat. Then, seeing his guest rising, he asked with
-great dignity:
-
-"Going, young sir?"
-
-"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."
-
-"I'm not forgetting that, young sir."
-
-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.
-
-"Well, what in all possessed got yer down here?" asked the girl, her
-face stiffening.
-
-"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.
-
-He had once suggested that she be confined somewhere. "You never can
-tell about her kind," he had said; he had a superstitious fear of
-her.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Jan-an continued to stare at him.
-
-"There ain't no Mrs. Sniff" she said finally. "What's ailin' folks
-around here?"
-
-"Well, where's Miss Peneluna?" Larry ventured, thinking back to the
-old title of his boyhood days.
-
-"Setting!" Jan-an returned to her sweeping and Larry stepped aside.
-
-"I want to see her," he said angrily. "Get out of the way."
-
-"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.
-
-"See here"--Larry's eyes darkened--"if you don't stand aside----"
-
-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.
-
-She was still in her rusty black, the rakish bonnet set awry on her
-head.
-
-"Come in!" she said quietly. "And you, Jan-an, you trundle over to my
-old place and clean up."
-
-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.
-
-"Well?" Peneluna looked at her visitor coolly. Larry did 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.
-
-"Miss Peneluna," he began finally, but the stiff lips interrupted
-him:
-
-"_Mrs. Sniff_."
-
-"Good Lord! Mrs. Sniff, then. You see, I didn't know you were
-married."
-
-"Didn't you? You might not know everything that goes on. You don't
-trouble us much. Your goings and comings leave us strangers."
-
-Larry did not reply. He was manufacturing tears, and presently, to
-Peneluna's amazement, they glistened on his cheeks.
-
-"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."
-
-Peneluna sneezed. She had a terrible habit of sneezing at will--it was
-positively shocking.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Peneluna, Mary-Clare and I have had some words; I've left home."
-
-There was no answer to this. Larry moistened his lips and went on:
-
-"Perhaps Mary-Clare has told you?"
-
-"No, she ain't blabbed none."
-
-This was disconcerting.
-
-"She wouldn't, and I am not going to, either. It's just a
-misunderstanding, Mrs. Sniff. I could go away and let it rest there,
-but I fear I've been away too much and things have got snarled.
-Mary-Clare doesn't rightly see things."
-
-"Yes she does, Larry Rivers! She's terrible seeing." Peneluna's eyes
-flashed.
-
-"All right then, Mrs. Sniff. _I want her to see!_ 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----"
-
-Peneluna sneezed lustily; it made Larry wince.
-
-"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."
-
-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."
-
-"You're hard on me, Mrs. Sniff. You'll be sorry some day."
-
-"Then I'll be sorry!" Peneluna sneezed.
-
-Presently her mood, however, changed. She regarded Larry with new
-interest.
-
-"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.
-
-"Five dollars a month, Mrs. Sniff."
-
-"I'm wanting ten."
-
-This was a staggering demand.
-
-"How bad does he want it?" Peneluna was thinking.
-
-"How far had I best give in?" Larry estimated.
-
-"Make it seven," he ventured.
-
-"Seven and then three dollars a week more if I cook and serve for
-you."
-
-Larry had overlooked this very important item.
-
-"All right!" he agreed. "When can I come?"
-
-"Right off." Peneluna felt that she must get him under her eye as soon
-as possible. She moved to the door.
-
-"You'll make it straight with Mary-Clare?"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-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:
-
-"What's a-going on?" she asked. Peneluna turned and laid her hand on
-the girl's shoulder; her face softened--but Jan-an could not see
-that.
-
-"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!"
-
-A long crooked forefinger pointed to the shack, the windows of which
-were already darkened--for Larry had drawn the shades!
-
-"Watch early and late there! Keep your mouth shut, except to me.
-Jan-an, I can trust yer?"
-
-The girl was growing nervous.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-What had been going on in the Forest? Why was the storm breaking?
-
-But suddenly a verse more heavily marked than the others stayed her:
-
-  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.
-
-Over and over Peneluna read and pondered; more and more she puzzled.
-
-"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."
-
-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."
-
-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!
-
-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 _think back_,
-holding to some word or look that gave her courage again to fix her
-eyes ahead.
-
-"So! so!" she would nod and mutter. "So! so!" It was like meeting
-others on The Highway, greeting them, and then going on alone!
-
-That was the hurt of it all--she was alone. If only there 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"Miss Pen, it is because of such women as you and Aunt Polly that men
-_can_ keep their faith."
-
-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.
-
-Once Larry had stolen! He had gone, too, when quite a child, to the
-tavern! He had tasted the liquor, made the men laugh! The old doctor
-had been in a sad state at that time and Larry had been sent to
-school.
-
-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.
-
-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 _not_ understood anything.
-
-Peneluna had tried to interfere, but she was always fumbling; she
-could patiently wait, but action, with her, was slow.
-
-And then Maclin! Since Maclin came and bought the mines _and_
-Larry--oh! what did it all mean? Had things been slumbering, needing
-only a touch?
-
-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?
-
-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 _do_, 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.
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Time, Polly?" Peter yawned.
-
-"Going on to 'leven."
-
-"He come in?"
-
-Full well Peter knew that he had not!
-
-"No, Peter, and his evening meal is drying up in the oven--I had
-creamed oysters, too. Creamed oysters are his specials."
-
-"Scandalous, your goings on with this young man!" Peter sat up and
-stretched. Then he smiled at his sister.
-
-"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."
-
-"Tired now, Polly?"
-
-"Not exactly tired, brother, but sort of rigid. Feel as if I was
-braced for something. I've often had that feeling."
-
-"Women! women!" muttered Peter, and threw on another log.
-
-"What you suppose has happened to keep our young feller from the--the
-oysters, eh?"
-
-"I'm not accounting for folks or things these days, Peter. I'm just
-keeping my eyes and ears open. Jan-an makes me uneasy!" This came like
-a mild explosion.
-
-"What's she up to?" Peter sniffed.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-"Where is he living?" he asked. When deeply stirred, Peter went slow
-and warily.
-
-"He's hired Peneluna's old shack."
-
-Peter digested this; but found it chaff.
-
-"You got this from Jan-an?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Has, or is going to?" Peter was giving himself time to think.
-
-"Has!" Aunt Polly was pulling her cushions into the cavities of her
-tired little body.
-
-"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 "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.
-
-"I don't see as there is anything else much, brother, to wear one's
-self out for."
-
-"Why frazzle yourself for anything?"
-
-"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 _so_ far, then a stitch holds and we get our
-breath."
-
-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.
-
-"There's me!" he whispered at length like a half-ashamed but
-frightened boy.
-
-Polly drew her glasses down and gave him a long, straight look full of
-a deep and abiding love.
-
-"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."
-
-Peter came clumsily across the room and stood over the small creature
-on the sofa. He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he said gruffly:
-
-"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 _is_ comical."
-
-"I didn't say yeast, Peter Heathcote."
-
-"Well, yer meant yeast."
-
-"No, I didn't mean yeast. I just meant something like Brace was
-talking about to-day."
-
-"What was it?" Peter stood round and solid with the firelight ruddily
-upon him.
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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. 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."
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"But some things _are_, brother. We must know."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Oh! the luxury of _daring_ 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.
-
-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 in which that book was written, for
-Mary-Clare was troubling her now deeply.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-At this moment Northrup's step sounded outside. He came hastily, but
-making little noise.
-
-"What's up?" he asked, starting back at the sight of Aunt Polly.
-
-"Just me, son. Your dinner is scorched to nothing, but I wanted to
-tell you where the cookie jar is."
-
-Northrup came over to the sofa and sat down.
-
-"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."
-
-Aunt Polly laughed softly.
-
-"It's neither cookies nor switches when you come down to it," she
-chuckled. "It's just waiting and not knowing why."
-
-Northrup leaned back against the sofa and said quietly:
-
-"Guessing about me, Aunt Polly?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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
-fellow called Twombley, odd cuss. He told me he's tried to earn his
-living, but found people too particular."
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup leaned back and laughed until the quiet house reechoed with
-his mirth.
-
-"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 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."
-
-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.
-
-"It must be pleasant--being your mother," Polly whispered.
-
-"It's pleasant having you acting as substitute," Northrup replied.
-"Shall I bank the fire, Aunt Polly?"
-
-"No, son, there's something else I must see to before I turn in.
-Aren't you going for the cookies?"
-
-"Yes'm. Going to munch them in bed." And tiptoeing away in the most
-orthodox manner Northrup left Aunt Polly alone.
-
-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 _was_ so surprised when she did. She bought the
-book to her nest on the sofa and set to work.
-
-Debit and credit. Figures, figures, figures. And then, mistily, words
-took their places. Names.
-
-Mary-Clare: Larry.
-
-Larry: Northrup.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-"Oh! you dear thing," she whispered, bending to recover the book,
-"adding and subtracting when the whole world sleeps. Isn't it a
-wonderful feeling to have the night to yourself?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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!
-
-"Yes; Peneluna told us. He hasn't gone far." Aunt Polly knitted on
-while Mary-Clare gave a little laugh.
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare, her eyes fixed on the fire, was thinking aloud; her breath
-came short and quick as if she had been running.
-
-"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."
-
-"You are talking _words_, Aunt Polly, not things." Aunt Polly knew
-that she _was_ and it made her wince.
-
-"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!"
-
-There was no bitterness in the tones, but there was the weary
-impatience of a child that had been too often denied the truth.
-
-"No matter what people say and say, underneath there is _truth_, Aunt
-Polly, and it's up to us to find it."
-
-"And you think you are competent"--Aunt Polly, reflecting that she was
-using _words_, used them doubtfully--"you think you are competent to
-know what _is_ truth and to act upon it--to the extent of sending your
-husband out of his home?"
-
-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.
-
-"You dear!" she whispered and then laughed.
-
-Presently, the fire again holding her, Mary-Clare went on:
-
-"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 _his_ word when it came to anything that meant a lot to
-me."
-
-"He wanted you to marry Larry!"
-
-This was a telling stroke and a long silence followed. Then:
-
-"I wonder, Aunt Polly, I wonder."
-
-"Do you doubt, child?"
-
-"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 _his_ way and nothing else
-would do."
-
-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.
-
-"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 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."
-
-At this Aunt Polly braced against the pillows as if they were rocks.
-
-"Peneluna!" she gasped.
-
-"Let me tell you, Aunt Polly. It is such a wonderful thing."
-
-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.
-
-"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 _knew_. 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.
-
-Aunt Polly had suddenly grown tender and far-seeing. She let go the
-sounding words that Church and State had taught her.
-
-"Little girl," she said, and all her motherhood rushed 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?"
-
-Northrup seemed to loom in the room, just beyond the fire's glow. Her
-fear was taking shape.
-
-"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 _think_ 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 _think_ are theirs. We
-don't know what is ours until we try."
-
-"And fail, my child?" Aunt Polly was crying.
-
-"Yes; and fail sometimes and be hurt--but paying and going on."
-
-"And leaving your man behind you?"
-
-"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."
-
-"But the long, lonely way, child!" Polly was retracing her own denied
-womanhood.
-
-"It need not be lonely, dear, when we women find--other things. They
-will count. They must."
-
-"What other things, Mary-Clare?"
-
-"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."
-
-Like an inspired young oracle, Mary-Clare spoke and then dropped again
-by the fire.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"Maybe."
-
-A door upstairs slammed loudly and both women started nervously.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare was arranging the couch.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Poor, reaching-out child!" she whispered.
-
-"For something that is _there_, Aunt Polly."
-
-"God knows!"
-
-"Of course He does. That's why He gave us the--reach. Good-night. Oh!
-how I love you, Aunt Polly. Good-night!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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!
-
-And then Northrup _did_ hear words. A word here; a word there. He
-_knew_ things he had no right to know--he was awake at last,
-conscientiously, as well as physically. He got up and slammed the
-door!
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"The cursed brute--hasn't _got_ her, thank God. She's out of the
-trap."
-
-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!
-
-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!
-
-In all his life Northrup had never looked upon the face of 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 _in_
-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.
-
-He breathed lightly; he did not move--but he was overcome by waves of
-emotion that had never before even lapped his feet.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup rose stiffly and made his way to his room.
-
-"She was asleep!" he fiercely thought until he was safe behind his
-locked door!
-
-"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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-At this moment Kathryn placed herself beside Helen Northrup as a timid
-debutante shrinks beside her chaperon.
-
-"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 _little_. "A fat forty! Oh,
-good Lord!"
-
-Kathryn was in bed and it was nine-thirty in the morning! She sprang
-out and looked at herself in the mirror.
-
-"Well, my body hasn't found it out yet!" she whispered, and her pretty
-white teeth showed complacently.
-
-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.
-
-Of course, for the time being, there was Sandy Arnold on the crest of
-one of his financial waves.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"But he always gets a grubby hole to work in." Kathryn fidgeted. "I
-daresay he is working now in some smudgy old place."
-
-But this thought did not last. She could insist upon the studio. A man
-owes his wife _something_ if he will have his way about his job.
-
-Just at this point a tap on the door brought a frown to Kathryn's
-smooth forehead.
-
-"Oh! come in," she called peevishly.
-
-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.
-
-For the first time in years Kathryn regarded her aunt now with
-interest.
-
-"Aunt Anna"--Kathryn never indulged in graceful tact with her
-relations--"Aunt Anna, how old _are_ you?"
-
-Anna Morris coloured, flinched, but smiled coyly.
-
-"Forty-two, dear, but it was only yesterday that my dressmaker said
-that I should not tell that. It is not necessary, you know."
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"Oh! my dear, my dear, _what_ 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 _did_ 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 _was_ comfortable; and
-duty _can_ fill in chinks. I always contend"--the dull eyes now
-confronted Kathryn--"that there _is_ a dangerous age for men and
-women. If they get through that alive and alone--well, there is a
-kind of calm that comes."
-
-"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?"
-
-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!
-
-"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 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."
-
-Kathryn was looking unusually serious. While she was in this mood she
-clutched at seeming trifles and held them curiously.
-
-"What was Brace's father like?" she suddenly asked.
-
-Anna Morris started.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Tell me, Aunt Anna. I've often wondered."
-
-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.
-
-"Well," she began slowly, tremblingly, "he wasn't companionable at
-the last, but I shall always see _his_ 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. _She_ 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!"
-
-"I don't know what you mean, Aunt Anna. Do talk sense."
-
-Kathryn was almost excited. It was like reading what wasn't intended
-for innocent young girls to know.
-
-"Well, first, Helen Northrup was just like all loving young girls, I
-guess--but when she didn't find _all_ she wanted, she took to
-developing, as she called it. For _my_ part I believe when a woman
-finds her husband isn't _all_ she expected, she ought to accept her
-lot and make the best of it."
-
-"And Brace's mother started out to make her own lot? I see."
-
-Kathryn nodded her head.
-
-"Well, something like that. She took to writing. Thomas Northrup
-didn't know what ailed her and I don't wonder. She should have spent
-herself on _his_ 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!"
-
-"What did he do, Aunt Anna?"
-
-"He went away."
-
-"With a woman?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"One he just met when Mrs. Northrup became a mother?"
-
-"He knew her before, but if Helen Northrup had been all she should
-have been to him----"
-
-"I begin to see. And then?"
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"What luncheon?"
-
-"Why, with Mr. Arnold, my dear, and he included me, too! Such a sweet
-fellow he is, and so wise and thoughtful."
-
-"Oh!"
-
-There had been a time when she and Sandy Arnold met clandestinely--it
-was such fun! He included Aunt Anna now. Why?
-
-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 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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 _is_ Brace, Kathryn?"
-
-This was unfortunate.
-
-"That is my business and his!" Kathryn spoke slowly. Her eyes slanted
-and her lips hardened.
-
-"My darling, I beg your pardon!" And once more Anna Morris was shoved
-into the groove where she belonged.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-When he was fourteen he remarked, in that strained voice that he
-believed hid any emotion:
-
-"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!"
-
-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 _know_, wanted to comfort her; and
-she knew, with terrifying certainty, that she could not deceive
-him--she was at his mercy!
-
-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.
-
-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 _unreality_. It answered
-the purpose for which it was designed; 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.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Well, rest and care helped and the attacks were less frequent. That
-gave a certain amount of hope.
-
-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. 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.
-_Time_ is such a splendid heritage of youth and such a rare relic of
-age.
-
-"Why, my dearie-dear!" exclaimed Kathryn, kneeling beside the couch.
-"What _is_ it?"
-
-"Nothing, dear child; nothing more than a vicious touch of neuralgia."
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"Now, dearie-dear, we _must_ 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.
-
-Helen smiled. Then spoke slowly:
-
-"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."
-
-"You mean, you have attacks?" Kathryn looked appalled.
-
-"Oh, yes; off and on. That fact proves how unimportant they are."
-
-Kathryn was again taking stock.
-
-She believed that Brace was still at that place from which the letter
-came! She was fiendishly subject to impressions and suspicions.
-
-"Now if he is still there"--thoughts ran like liquid fire in Kathryn's
-brain--"_why_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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 _might_ have
-happened--she, a woman of the world, understood.
-
-And--Kathryn was brought to a sudden halt--the reel spun on but there
-was no picture!
-
-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.
-
-Presently Kathryn became aware of the fact that Helen Northrup had
-been speaking while the reel reeled!
-
-"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! 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!"
-
-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?
-
-Well, how perfectly thrilling to save him!
-
-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.
-
-"Kathryn, have you heard from Brace?"
-
-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.
-
-"No, dearie-dear," she said sweetly.
-
-"So you don't know just where he is?"
-
-"How could I know, dearie thing?"
-
-So they were not keeping things from her; shutting her out! Helen
-Northrup raised her head from the pillow.
-
-"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, 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!"
-
-Kathryn was shedding tears--tears of gratitude for the material Helen
-was putting at her disposal.
-
-"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!"
-
-Kathryn looked up. The tears hung to her long lashes.
-
-"You want this?" she faltered with quivering lips.
-
-Helen believed she understood at last.
-
-"My darling!" she said tenderly, "it is the one great longing of my
-heart."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Such an effort as she had just made caused angels to weep over her.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-This was said to Peneluna who was aging under the strain of
-unaccustomed excitement.
-
-"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! I wish we had something to grip hold of.
-Suspicioning your neighbours ain't healthy."
-
-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:
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"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!"
-
-She shamelessly ransacked Larry's possessions while she cleaned his
-disorderly shack, but no letters did she find. She became irritable
-and unmoral.
-
-"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?"
-
-Peneluna paused and looked at the girl with startled eyes.
-
-"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.
-
-"Oh! folks as just clutter up life for decent folks. Maclin and
-Larry."
-
-"Now, see here, Jan-an, that kind of talk is downright creepy and
-terrible wicked. Listen to me. Are you listening?"
-
-Jan-an nodded sullenly.
-
-"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 much as yer can. If you attract
-attention--the Lord above knows what will happen; I don't."
-
-Jan-an was impressed.
-
-"I ain't making them notice me," she mumbled, "but yer just can't take
-a joke."
-
-Noreen and Jan-an, in those warm autumn days--and what an autumn it
-was!--often came to the little chapel where Northrup wrote.
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-"We're here," the strangely scrawled words informed him; "me and
-Jan-an. We've got something for you."
-
-But Northrup held rigidly to his working hours and finally made an
-offer to his most persistent foes.
-
-"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."
-
-This had been the beginning of romance to Jan-an.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-And, as was often the case, Manly's words came out like 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.
-
-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.
-
-"She was not awake!" he concluded. The belief made it possible for him
-to act with assurance.
-
-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.
-
-"Or upset 'em," Peter added. He had his mind fixed upon Maclin.
-
-"Well, brother, sailing safe, or struggling in the water, it won't
-help matters to stir up the mud."
-
-"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 _him_ make the folks on the
-Point get on to the fact that he's their friend. Gosh! Maclin their
-friend."
-
-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 virtue around their
-barren lives, by attacking the woman who refused to be a martyr.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin had delicately and indirectly set forth Mary-Clare's "terms"
-and the Forest was staggered.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup often had a hearty laugh after attending one of the "school"
-sessions.
-
-"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."
-
-"I reckon they pick only as much as their little stomachs can hold,"
-Aunt Polly replied, "and it makes _me_ smile to notice how folks as
-ain't above saying lies about Mary-Clare can trust their children to
-her teaching."
-
-"Oh! well, lies are soon killed," Northrup returned, but his smile
-vanished.
-
-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.
-
-"I do say," Twombley confided to Peneluna, "it don't seem nater for a
-woman not to grieve and fuss at such goings on."
-
-Peneluna tossed her head and sneezed.
-
-"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
-_him_ do the fussing and breaking."
-
-"She might try and save him." Twombley, like all the male Forest, was
-stirred at what he could not understand.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Surely the Forest had much to cogitate upon.
-
-"There is just one ledge of rocks for her kind," said Maclin. "You
-keep yourself clear and safe, Rivers, and watch the wreck."
-
-Maclin could be most impressive at times and his conversation had a
-nautical twist that was quite effective.
-
-Northrup at this time would have been shocked beyond measure had any
-one suggested that his own attitude of mind 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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?
-
-"But she ought not to be permitted to think all men are like Rivers!"
-
-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.
-
-There were nutting parties for the children--innocent enough, heaven
-knew! There were thrilling camping suppers on the flat ridge of the
-hills in order to watch the miracle of sunset and moonrise.
-
-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.
-
-No wonder Maclin, and the outraged Larry, saw distinctly the ridge on
-which the wreck was to occur.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"I do, a little. I'm taking it up again for Noreen."
-
-Noreen's name was continually being brought into focus. It had the
-effect of pushing Northrup, metaphorically, into a safe zone. He
-resented this.
-
-"She is afraid!" he thought. "Rivers has left his mark upon her mind,
-damn him!"
-
-This sentiment should have given warning, but it did not.
-
-"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."
-
-"Hard things do stick, don't they?" Northrup hated the pushed-aside
-feeling.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup laughed aloud. He edged away from his isolation and said:
-
-"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.
-
-"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?
-
-"And you're doing it?"
-
-An understanding look passed between them.
-
-"Yes, Mr. Northrup, for Noreen."
-
-Back went Northrup to his place with a dull thud! Then Mary-Clare
-hurried to a safer subject.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup looked down at his companion. Her bared head, her musing,
-radiant face excited and moved him. He had forgotten his book.
-
-"You're rather like a strange growth yourself," he said daringly.
-
-Mary-Clare smiled gaily.
-
-"You'll have to blame my old doctor for that," she said.
-
-"Or bless him," Northrup broke in.
-
-"Yes, that's better, if it is true."
-
-"It's tremendously true."
-
-"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!"
-
-"Yes. Good Lord! There you are."
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes, a story."
-
-"You can reach further with a story."
-
-"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.
-
-"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
-_feel_ truth in a book--or the lack of it."
-
-In the near distance Noreen and Jan-an were gathering wood. They were
-singing and shouting lustily.
-
-"May I sit on your log?" Northrup spoke hurriedly.
-
-"Of course," and Mary-Clare moved a little. "The sun's gone," she went
-on. "It's quite dark in the valley."
-
-"It's still light here--and there's the fire." Northrup was watching
-the face beside him.
-
-"Yes, the fire, and presently the moon rising, just over there."
-
-Restraint lay between the two on the mossy log. They both resented
-it.
-
-"You know, you must know, that I'd rather have you share my book than
-any one else." Northrup spoke almost roughly.
-
-He had meant to say something quite different, but anything would do
-so long as he controlled the situation.
-
-"I wonder why?" Mary-Clare kept her face turned away.
-
-"Well, you are so phenomenally keen. You know such a lot."
-
-"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."
-
-"That's just it. You _feel_ 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?"
-
-"Oh! of course. I'd be so glad and proud."
-
-"Come, now, you're not joking?"
-
-The large golden eyes turned slowly and rested upon Northrup.
-
-"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."
-
-"You make me horribly afraid about my book. People do not usually take
-the writing of a book in just that way."
-
-"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."
-
-"But who knows Truth?"
-
-"There is something in us that knows it. Don't you think so?"
-
-"But we see it so differently."
-
-"That does not matter, if we know it! Truth is fixed and sure. Isn't
-that so?"
-
-"I do not know. Sometimes I think so: then--good Lord! that is what
-I'm trying to find out."
-
-Northrup's face grew tense.
-
-"And so am I."
-
-"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?"
-
-The children were coming nearer.
-
-"While this weather lasts, I'd love the open. Wouldn't you? Logs, like
-this, are such perfect places."
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare smiled and shook her head.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-But the book! That was another matter. In that she felt 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Why are you stopping?" Mary-Clare would ask at such lapses.
-
-"My writing is diabolical!" Northrup lied.
-
-"Oh! I'm sorry. The stops give me a jog. Go on."
-
-And Northrup would go on!
-
-Without fully being aware of it, until the thing was done, Mary-Clare
-got vividly into the story.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-And Northrup had complied.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Well, Fate had merely bided its time.
-
-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.
-
-Viewed from this position, Larry was not as contemptible as he had
-once appeared.
-
-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.
-
-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 his back upon the golden selah
-in his life and return to his niche in the wall.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-And Jan-an. Poor groping creature! To have gained her affection and
-trust meant a great deal.
-
-Then the Heathcotes! Polly and Peter! During those five distraught
-days they developed halos in Northrup's imagination.
-
-They had taken him in, a stranger. They had fathered and mothered him;
-staunchly and silently stood by him. What if they knew?
-
-They must never know! He would make sure of that.
-
-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.
-
-After a decent length of time, Northrup, whistling carelessly,
-scruffing the dead leaves noiselessly, followed on and overtook
-Mary-Clare near the log upon which they had sat at their last
-meeting.
-
-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.
-
-"It's quite mysterious, isn't it?"
-
-Mary-Clare sat down on her end of the log and looked up, her eyes
-twinkling.
-
-"What is mysterious?" Northrup took his place. The log was not a long
-one.
-
-"The way we manage to meet."
-
-She was setting him at a safe distance in that old way of hers that
-somehow made her seem so young.
-
-It irritated Northrup now as it never had before.
-
-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.
-
-This was dangerous. Northrup relaxed.
-
-"It's been nearly a week since I saw you," he said, and let his eyes
-rest upon Mary-Clare's face.
-
-"Yes, nearly a week," she said softly, "but it took me all that time
-to make up my mind."
-
-"About what?"
-
-"Your book."
-
-Northrup had forgotten, for the moment, his book, and he resented its
-introduction.
-
-"Damn the book!" he thought. Aloud he said: "Of course! You were going
-to tell me where I have fallen down."
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Then, there is all the more reason why I must tell you what I think,"
-she said at last.
-
-The words came like sharp detached particles; they hurt.
-
-"We must talk about the book!"
-
-And Northrup suddenly caught the truth. The book was their common
-language. Only through that could they reach each other, understandingly.
-
-"All right!" he murmured, and turned his face away.
-
-"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."
-
-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, _as_ a book, assailed. As to books, he knew his
-business!
-
-"You put _your_ words in your woman's mouth," Mary-Clare was saying.
-
-"And whose words, pray, should I put there?" Northrup asked huskily.
-
-"You must let her speak for herself."
-
-"Good Lord!"
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-The question came falteringly and Northrup almost laughed.
-
-"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?"
-
-"All women would not do what your woman does. Such women end men!"
-
-This was audacious, but it caught Northrup's imagination.
-
-"Go on," he muttered lamely.
-
-"Do you think love is everything to a woman?" Mary-Clare demanded
-ferociously.
-
-"It is the biggest thing!" Northrup was up in arms to defend his code
-and his work.
-
-"You think it could wipe out honour, all the things that meant honour
-to her?"
-
-"Love conquers everything for a woman."
-
-"Does it for a man?"
-
-Northrup tried to fling out the affirmative, but he hedged.
-
-"Largely, yes."
-
-"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 _do_ 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----"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup drew Mary-Clare to her feet and held her little work-worn
-hands close.
-
-"You are crying--suffering," he whispered.
-
-"Yes."
-
-"And----"
-
-"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."
-
-She seemed pleading with him--it made him wince; she was calling forth
-his best to help her weakest.
-
-"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 _act_ for herself! She, too, must
-learn and know. She made a horrible mistake from _not_ 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----"
-
-"Yes, Mary-Clare. If it is right, what then?"
-
-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!
-
-"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, _parts_--we cannot act as if--oh! you do understand, I know you
-do, and some day you will go on with your beautiful book."
-
-"And the end of my book, Mary-Clare? There must be an end."
-
-"I do not know. I do not think a great big book ever ends any more
-than life ends."
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"Dishonour! What _is_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"That's what I mean by honour," Mary-Clare whispered. "Noreen and all
-that she is! You, you _do_ understand about some women, don't you? You
-will help, not hurt, such women, won't you?"
-
-"For God's sake, Mary-Clare, don't!"
-
-Northrup bent and touched his lips to the small work-stained hands.
-The song down the trail rose joyously.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes!" Northrup shivered and flinched as a cold, wet leaf fell upon
-his hands and Mary-Clare's.
-
-"The wind is changing," said the woman. "The lovely autumn has been
-kind and has stayed long."
-
-"My dear, my dear--don't!" Northrup pleaded.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"You have never been to the city?"
-
-There was nothing to do but resort to words. Superficial, foolish
-words.
-
-"Yes, once. On my wedding trip."
-
-This was unfortunate, but words without thought are wild things.
-
-Mary-Clare hurried along while visions of Larry's city rose like smiting
-rebukes to her heedlessness. Cheap theatres, noisy restaurants, gaudy
-lights.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, that's exactly what one does." Northrup closed his hand closer
-over the dead-cold one in his grasp.
-
-"Your city, it must be wonderful."
-
-"It will be a haunted city, Mary-Clare."
-
-"Tell me about it. And tell me a little, if you don't mind, about your
-people."
-
-The bravery was almost heart-breaking, it caused Northrup's lips to
-set grimly.
-
-"There is my mother," he replied.
-
-"I'm glad. You love her very much?"
-
-"Very much. She's wonderful. My father died long ago."
-
-Mary-Clare did not ask whether he loved his father or not, and she
-hurried on:
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup struggled with himself. The girl beside him, in pushing him
-from her life, was so unutterably sweet and brave.
-
-"My dear, my dear!" he whispered, and remorse, pity, yearning rang in
-the words.
-
-"Make it like a picture!" Relentlessly the words were repeated. They
-demanded that he give his best.
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare's eyes were wide and vision-filled.
-
-"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!"
-
-"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."
-
-The weak efforts to ignore everything failed pitifully.
-
-"No, it is life." Mary-Clare grew grim as Northrup relaxed. "But I
-want you always to remember my old 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."
-
-"God bless and keep you, Mary-Clare." Absolute surrender marked the
-tone.
-
-"He will!"
-
-"But this is not good-bye!"
-
-"No, it is not good-bye."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-The real, sordid tragedy element played small part in the autumn idyl,
-but it was developing none the less.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"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?"
-
-Peneluna softened.
-
-"Yes, you are!" she admitted. "But I declare, after finding nothing
-agin him, one gets to wondering if there _is_ anything agin him. I
-don't like suspecting my feller creatures."
-
-"Suspectin' ain't like murdering!" Jan-an blurted out.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"What yer going to shoot?" she asked.
-
-"Ducks, maybe." Twombley leered pleasantly.
-
-"I wish yer wouldn't."
-
-"Why, Jan-an?"
-
-"Ducks ain't so used to it as chickens. I hate to see flying things as
-_can_ fly popped over."
-
-At this Twombley laughed aloud.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"What in thunder are you up to?" he asked.
-
-"Not much--yet!" Twombley admitted. "Don't hit the hole more than once
-out of four."
-
-"But the noise is bad for folks, Twombley."
-
-"They like it," Twombley broke in. "Makes 'em jump and know they're
-alive. It's like fleas on dogs."
-
-"When I'm talking business with Rivers," Twombley insisted, "I hate
-the racket."
-
-"All right, when I see you there, I'll hold off."
-
-But Maclin did not want always to be seen at the shack. 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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin's eyes contracted, but it was too dark for Rivers to notice.
-
-"Too late, just now, Rivers. That hell of a time they're having over
-there keeps peaceful folks to their own waters."
-
-"Sometimes"--Larry grew moody--"I've thought I'd like to tumble into
-that mess and either----"
-
-"What?" Abruptly Maclin caught Rivers up.
-
-"Oh! go under or--come to the top." This was to laugh--so both men
-laughed.
-
-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.
-
-"What in thunder do you lock this old rookery up for?" Maclin asked,
-stumbling over a chair.
-
-"I've got a notion lately that folks peep and pry. I've seen
-footprints around the house."
-
-"Well, why shouldn't they pry and tramp about? The Point's getting
-dippy. And that blasted gun of Twombley's! See here, Rivers!"
-
-By this time Larry had lighted the smelly lamp and closed the door and
-locked it.
-
-"You're getting nervous and twisted, Rivers."
-
-The two sat down by the paper-strewn table.
-
-"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."
-
-"Sure! Got anything to drink?"
-
-Larry went to the closet and brought out a bottle and glasses.
-
-"This helps!" Maclin said, pouring out the best brand from the Cosey.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"The devil you do!" Rivers's eyes brightened.
-
-"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."
-
-Larry's face flushed a purple-red.
-
-"What do you mean, Maclin? Talk out straight and clear."
-
-"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 _always_, Larry. They just naturally _make_ for
-rocks."
-
-Larry had a sensation of choking and loosened his collar, then he
-surprised Maclin by turning and lighting a fire in the stove before he
-further surprised him by asking, with dangerous calmness:
-
-"What in all that's holy do you--this Northrup--any one, want this
-damned Point for?"
-
-Maclin was rarely in a position to fence with Rivers, but he was now.
-
-"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?"
-
-"No!" Rivers could not stand delay.
-
-"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 _keep_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-"What are these?" he asked.
-
-Larry started guiltily.
-
-"Old letters," he said.
-
-"What you doing with them?" As he spoke Maclin was 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!
-
-"Playing the old game, eh?" Maclin scowled. "I thought you'd had
-enough of that, after----"
-
-"For God's sake, Maclin, shut up."
-
-"Been carrying these mementos around with you all these years?"
-
-Maclin was reading a letter of Larry's father--an old one.
-
-"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.
-
-"Sure, so I see." And Maclin was seeing a great deal.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin puffed out his cheeks. They looked like a child's red balloon.
-"What in hell!" he ejaculated.
-
-Larry's face was gray. Guilt is always quick to hold up its hands when
-it thinks the enemy has the drop on it.
-
-"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."
-
-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 he felt positively
-virtuous; perhaps the sensation proved the embryo virtue in all.
-
-"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."
-
-"No."
-
-"You got your wife by letting her think your old father wanted it,
-wrote about it?"
-
-"Yes. I had to outwit them some way. I was just free and couldn't
-choose. They had no right to cut me out."
-
-"Well, by God, you _are_ a rotter, Rivers." The lines at which
-criminals balk are confusing. "And she never guessed?"
-
-"No, she'd never seen Father's writing in letters."
-
-Then Maclin's outraged virtue took a curious turn.
-
-"And you never cared for her after you got her?"
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin indulged in a weak laugh at this and Larry's face burned.
-
-"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."
-
-Maclin was gripping the loose sheets in his fat, greasy hands.
-
-"Hold on there." Larry pointed. "You're getting them creased and
-dirty!"
-
-Again Maclin laughed.
-
-"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 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."
-
-Larry wiped his lips with his hot hand.
-
-"I haven't quite finished this," he muttered; "it will take a day or
-two."
-
-"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.
-
-"I'm not going to double-cross you, Maclin."
-
-"Here, take a nifter." Maclin pushed the bottle toward Rivers. "You
-look all in," he ventured.
-
-"I am, just about."
-
-"Well, after this piece of business, I'll send you off for as long as
-you want to stay. You need a change."
-
-Larry revived after a moment or two and some colour crept into his
-cheeks.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-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 _must_ succeed. Right was back of him; with him. Unyielding
-Right. It must succeed.
-
-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. 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Dominated by a man and an emotion they were, not the drudging machines
-of the mines, but a vital force ready for action.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-The weather jeered at him by its glorious warmth and colour. It _held_
-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 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.
-
-"I'll wait until this marvellous spell of weather breaks," he
-compromised with his lesser--or better--self. "Then I'll beat it!"
-
-Looking to this he asked Uncle Peter what the chances were of a cold
-spell.
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"All right, son," he muttered, and ran his hand through his bristling
-hair.
-
-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?
-
-"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.
-
-"What for?"
-
-This brought a hurtling mass of conclusions.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 _are_ 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!"
-
-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.
-
-Just then he heard quick, light footsteps coming toward him. He hid
-behind some bushes by the path and waited.
-
-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.
-
-Larry walked on, and when he was beyond sound Northrup proceeded on
-his way.
-
-The Point seemed wrapped in decent slumber. A light frankly burned in
-Twombley's hovel, but for the rest, darkness!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"Well, what in thunder!" Northrup decided to investigate but keep
-silent as long as he could.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup took a big chance. He went to the door and tapped.
-
-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.
-
-"Jan-an," he said quietly, controllingly, "let me in. You can trust
-me. Let me in."
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-To his surprise, the girl burst into tears.
-
-"My God," she moaned, "what did I have feelin's for--and no sense? I
-can't read!" she blurted. "I can't read."
-
-This was puzzling, but Northrup saw that the girl had confidence in
-him--a desperate, unknowing confidence that had grown slowly.
-
-"Why do you want to read, Jan-an?" he asked in a low, kindly tone.
-
-"I know you ain't his friend, are you?" The wet, pitiful face was
-lifted. Old fears and distrust rose grimly.
-
-"Whose?"
-
-"Maclin's, ole divil-man Maclin?"
-
-"Certainly not! You know better than to ask that, Jan-an."
-
-"Nor his--Larry Rivers?"
-
-"No, I am not his friend."
-
-Thus reassured once more, Jan-an ventured nearer:
-
-"You don't aim to hurt--her?"
-
-"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.
-
-"I mean them--Mary-Clare and Noreen."
-
-"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?"
-
-"As God seeing yer, yer mean that?" Jan-an leaned forward.
-
-"God seeing me! Yes, Jan-an."
-
-"Yer ain't hanging around her to do her--dirt?"
-
-"Good Lord, no!" Northrup recoiled. Apparently new anxiety was
-overcoming the girl.
-
-Then, by a sudden dash, Jan-an swept the untidy mass of papers over to
-him; she abdicated her last stronghold.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-For a few moments Northrup lost the sound of Jan-an's guttural
-whimpers, then he caught the words:
-
-"And her crying and wanting the letters. Just letters!" Northrup again
-became absorbed.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Some day I will read my old doctor's letters to you--I have kept them
-all!"
-
-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 _were_ some old letters of the
-doctor's. Were these Mary-Clare's letters? Why were they here and in
-this state?
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"I'm trying to find out." Northrup spoke almost harshly. He wanted to
-quiet the girl.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-So, now, disregarding poor Jan-an, who rambled on, Northrup gazed at
-the letters near him, and held close the brown-paper 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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-"It's all right, Jan-an," he comforted, patting the unkempt head.
-
-"Are them the letters he stole?"
-
-"Some of them, yes, Jan-an."
-
-"Kin I take 'em back to her?"
-
-"Not to-night. I think Rivers will take them back."
-
-"S'pose he won't."
-
-"He will."
-
-"You, you're going to fetch him one?" The instinct of the savage rose
-in the girl.
-
-"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."
-
-"And you?"
-
-"I'll wait for Mr. Larry Rivers here!"
-
-"My God!" Jan-an burst forth. Then: "There's a sizable log back of
-the stove. Yer can fetch a good one with that."
-
-"Thanks, Jan-an. Go now."
-
-Jan-an rose stiffly and shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and went
-into the blackness outside.
-
-Then Northrup sat down and prepared to wait.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Rivers might return with Maclin. This was a new possibility and
-disconcerting; still it must be met.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-For some moments--or was it hours?--Northrup was not conscious of time
-or place; not even conscious of himself as 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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-There were primitive forces battling for expression in his lax hour.
-Setting the woman free from bondage--what for?
-
-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?
-
-Northrup set his teeth hard together. In the stillness he had his
-fight! And just then a shuffling outside brought him back to reality.
-
-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!
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-
-"Hello, Rivers! I'm something of a surprise, eh?"
-
-"Hell!" The word escaped Rivers as might a cry that followed a
-stunning blow.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-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!
-
-"In God's name," he whispered, "who are you, anyway? What are you
-after?"
-
-"That's what I'm here to tell you, Rivers."
-
-"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!
-
-Maclin--Maclin's secret business, loomed high, but at that moment
-Mary-Clare held no part in his desperate fear.
-
-"What do you want?"
-
-Then, as if falling into his mood, Northrup said calmly:
-
-"First, I want the Point."
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Rivers clutched the edge of the table. To his inflamed brain Northrup
-seemed to know all and everything--he dared not haggle.
-
-"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.
-
-"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 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_ 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!"
-
-Larry's face was livid. He was prepared to betray Maclin, but the old
-power held him captive.
-
-"I dare not!" he groaned.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"I took it to her," he gasped.
-
-"Your wife?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"She does not suspect?"
-
-"No."
-
-"What did your wife say when she read the letter?"
-
-"She's going to help me out."
-
-"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."
-
-"My God! I want a drink." Larry looked as if he did; he rose and
-reeled over to the closet.
-
-Northrup regarded his man closely and his fingers reached out and drew
-the scattered papers nearer.
-
-"Take only enough to stiffen you up, a swallow or two, Rivers."
-
-Larry obeyed mechanically and when he returned to his chair he was
-firmer.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Go on!" he growled.
-
-"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!"
-
-Both men looked at the mass of papers.
-
-"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!"
-
-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 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.
-
-"You damned scoundrel!" he gasped. "And if I do what you suggest, what
-then?" He meant to force Northrup as far as he dared.
-
-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:
-
-"Nothing!"
-
-"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----"
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 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.
-
-"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!"
-
-And now Northrup's face twitched. He waited a moment and then went
-hopelessly on:
-
-"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.
-
-"Believe you?" he said. "Hell, no!"
-
-"I thought you couldn't." Northrup got up.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Larry felt the cold perspiration start on his forehead; his stomach
-grew sick.
-
-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.
-
-"I'll go to her; I'll do your hell-work, but give me another day." He
-gritted his teeth.
-
-"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.
-
-"What----" Larry put out a trembling hand.
-
-"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."
-
-"Curse you!"
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Five o'clock," counted Northrup, and plunging his hands in his
-pockets he made his way to Twombley's shack.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-But, for some uncanny cause, Kathryn was confident that Northrup _was_
-at his first address. It was so like him to creep into a hole and be
-very dramatic and secretive. It was his temperament, Kathryn felt,
-and she steeled herself against him.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"I beg your pardon. Really, I did knock--the door just opened."
-Kathryn was confused and stepped back.
-
-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!
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"I want to find out the way to the inn, Heathcote Inn." Kathryn smiled
-alluringly.
-
-"Why don't you look at the sign?" There was witchery about that sign,
-certainly.
-
-"I did not see the sign. Please excuse me." Then, "Do you happen to
-know if there is a Mr. Northrup at the inn?"
-
-"He sleeps there!" Jan-an looked stupid but honest. "Days, he takes to
-the woods."
-
-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!
-
-"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."
-
-The quiet man at the door of the car touched his cap and took his
-place at the wheel.
-
-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 _could_ be so excited.
-
-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?
-
-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. 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.
-
-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 _for_
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"I see your side, child," he comforted. "What the old doc said _goes_
-with you."
-
-"But it was Larry, not the doctor, as specified the Point," Polly
-insisted.
-
-"All right, all right," Peter patted Polly's shoulder. "Have it your
-own way, but I see it at _this_ 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."
-
-"Well, I hold"--Aunt Polly was curiously stubborn--"that Larry Rivers
-don't want that Point any more than a toad wants a pocket."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Motherly, let me go, too," she pleaded.
-
-"Childie, Mother wants to be alone."
-
-"Why for?"
-
-"Because, well, I must think."
-
-"Then let me stay home with Jan-an."
-
-"Dearie, I'm going to send Jan-an back here."
-
-"Why for?"
-
-"Mary-Clare," Peter broke in, "that child is perishing for a
-paddling."
-
-Noreen ran to Peter and hugged him.
-
-"You old grifferty-giff!" she whispered, falling into her absurd
-jargon, "just gifferting."
-
-Then she went back to her mother and said impishly:
-
-"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?"
-
-The irrelevancy of the question only added to its staggering effect.
-Mary-Clare looked hopelessly at her child.
-
-"I didn't have any choice, Noreen," she said.
-
-"You mean God gave him to you?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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 last she came in sight of the vine-covered shack and stood
-still to consider.
-
-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.
-
-"Ho! ho!" she murmured. "So _this_ is where he burrows? Another
-edition of the East Side tenement room where he hid while writing his
-abominable book!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-That, and the Bible, made the girl smile. Temperament was insanity,
-nothing less!
-
-Kathryn looked about for evidences of Northrup's craft.
-
-"I suppose he takes his precious stuff away with him. Afraid of fires
-or wild beasts."
-
-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.
-
-"Ho! ho!" Kathryn spread them before her and read greedily--not
-sympathetically--but amusedly.
-
-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 _her_ plot with Northrup's
-words, but half understood, lying under her gaze.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"I was surprised. I am still."
-
-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.
-
-"You expected, I suppose, to find Mr. Northrup?"
-
-When Kathryn was deeply moved she spoke out of the corner of her
-mouth. It was an unpleasant trick--her lips became hard and twisted.
-
-"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!
-
-"I am Miss Morris. I am engaged to be married to Mr. Northrup."
-
-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:
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Mr. Northrup's mother is ill. She needs him. The way I have known all
-this right along is simply a miracle."
-
-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.
-
-"What can you possibly mean," she asked, and her eyes darkened, "by
-knowing _this_ all along? I do not understand--what have you known?"
-
-Then Kathryn sank in a morass.
-
-"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?"
-
-Mary-Clare was spared much of what Kathryn was creating because she
-was so far away--so far, far away from the 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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Mr. Northrup is writing a beautiful book. The book is himself. He
-does not realize how much it is----"
-
-"Indeed!" Kathryn did utter the one word, then added: "I suppose he's
-read it to you?"
-
-"Yes, he has."
-
-"Here, I suppose? By the fire, alone with you?"
-
-"No, under the trees, out there."
-
-Mary-Clare turned and glanced at the pure, open woods. "It is a
-beautiful book," she repeated.
-
-"Oh! go on, do! Really this is too utterly ridiculous." Kathryn
-laughed impatiently. "We'll take for granted the beauty of the book."
-
-"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 _believe_ in
-women. 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!"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"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 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.
-
-"How dare you!" Kathryn's face flamed and then turned pale as death.
-
-Mary-Clare was moving toward the door. When she reached it she stood
-as a hostess might while a guest departed.
-
-"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.
-
-"I want you to understand," she said, "that you are dealing with a
-woman of the world, not a sentimental fool."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-The bared Truth stood revealed; before it Mary-Clare did not flinch.
-
-"This is what it has all meant. The happiness, the joy, the strange
-intensity of common things."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Somewhere, on beyond----
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-
-Northrup had cast himself upon Twombley's hospitality with the plea of
-business. He outlined a programme and demanded silence.
-
-"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."
-
-Twombley blinked.
-
-"Snatching hot cakes?" he asked. "Spoiling Maclin's meal?"
-
-"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."
-
-Twombley nodded.
-
-About noon Northrup departed, but he did not reach the inn until
-nearly dark.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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."
-
-"Nonsense, brother! But do you suppose the young woman what's on her
-way here is a female Chinese?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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?
-
-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.
-
-"I'm Mr. Northrup's fiancee," she explained, and sank into a chair by
-the hearth.
-
-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!
-
-Peter fixed his little, sparkling eyes on his guest and his hair rose
-an inch while his face reddened.
-
-"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.
-
-"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!"
-
-This was a wild guess but it served its purpose. Peter felt like a
-brute and Aunt Polly was all a-tremble.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"She says she's going to marry Brace," she confided.
-
-"Well, I reckon if she says she is, she is!" Peter grunted. "She looks
-capable of doing it."
-
-"Peter, you mustn't be hard."
-
-"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?"
-
-"Peter, you give me the creeps."
-
-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.
-
-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----
-
-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.
-
-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 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 _real_ was reflected. They had breathed
-upon them, watched them, but had not touched them frankly. And
-now----
-
-How ugly and ordinary it would all seem if he left without one last
-word!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-And just then a rustling in the bushes by the road brought him to a
-standstill.
-
-"Who's that?" he asked roughly.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-Jan-an came close.
-
-"Say, there's a queer lot to the inn. They're after you!"
-
-Northrup started.
-
-"What do you mean?" he asked.
-
-"A toot cart with an image setting up the front--and a dressy piece in
-the glass cage behind."
-
-So vivid was the picture that Jan-an portrayed that Northrup did not
-need to question.
-
-"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----"
-
-Northrup laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yer--yer going away?" Jan-an writhed under the flashlight.
-
-"Yes, Jan-an."
-
-"Why----" The girl burst into tears. Northrup tried to comfort her.
-"I've been so stirred," the girl sobbed. "I had feelin's----"
-
-"So have I, Jan-an. So have I."
-
-They stood in the dark for a moment and then, because there was
-nothing more to say--Northrup went to meet Kathryn Morris.
-
-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.
-
-"Well, little girl," he said--people always lowered their voices when
-speaking to Kathryn--"what is it?"
-
-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.
-
-"Is it Mother?" he whispered.
-
-Kathryn nodded and her easy tears fell.
-
-"Dead?" The word cut like a knife and Kathryn shivered. For the first
-she doubted herself; felt like a bungler.
-
-"Oh! no, Brace; Brace, do not look like that--really--really--listen
-to me."
-
-Northrup breathed heavily.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"Brace dear, I--you know I have been bearing it all alone and I dared
-_not_ take any further responsibility even to--to shield you, dearest,
-and your work."
-
-By some dark magic Northrup felt himself a selfish brute; a deserter
-of duty.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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!
-
-While he had been following his selfish ends, Kathryn had 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.
-
-"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?"
-
-Northrup nodded. He recalled those headaches.
-
-"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----"
-
-"Nonsense!" Northrup got up and paced the floor. "Manly has told me
-that was sheer nonsense. Go on, Kathryn."
-
-"Well, dear, she was weak and _so_ pitiful and she--she confided
-things to me that I am sure she would not have, had she been her
-brave, dear self."
-
-"What kind of things?"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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 you and I--have been putting off our
-marriage because of her!"
-
-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.
-
-"Go on!" he said quietly, and resumed his seat by the fire.
-
-"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."
-
-"An obstacle? Good Lord!" Northrup jammed a log to its place and so
-relieved his feelings.
-
-"Well, my dearest, you must see the position I was placed in?"
-
-"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?"
-
-Kathryn looked up, and all the childlike confidence and sweetness she
-could summon lay in her lovely eyes.
-
-"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 _had_ to have you. Oh! Brace."
-
-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.
-
-"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!"
-
-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!
-
-"Kathryn, you mean you will marry me; you will--do this for me and
-her?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-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.
-
-An early start for the morrow was planned, and by nine o'clock Kathryn
-went to her room.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Now, son, must you go out?" she pleaded, her spectacles awry on the
-top of her head, her eyes unnaturally bright.
-
-"Yes, Aunt Polly." Northrup paused, the knob of the door in hand, and
-looked down at the little creature.
-
-"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.
-
-"Fair--fair to whom, Aunt Polly?" Northrup's brows drew together.
-
-"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.
-
-"Aunt Polly, look at me." This was spoken sternly.
-
-"I _am_ looking, son, I am looking." And so she was.
-
-"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?"
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-"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. 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."
-
-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.
-
-"Sign there!" he said.
-
-"I'll sign where I damn please." Larry showed his teeth. "How much you
-going to give me for my woman?"
-
-For a moment the sordid room seemed to be swirling in a flood of red
-and yellow. Northrup got on his feet.
-
-"I don't want to kill you," he muttered, "but you deserve it."
-
-"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.
-
-"How much is--is the price for the Point?" he mumbled.
-
-Northrup mastered his rage and sat down. Feeling sure that Rivers
-would dicker he said quietly:
-
-"A thousand dollars."
-
-"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.
-
-"Rivers, I expected this, so I'll name my final price. Fifteen
-hundred! Hurry up and sign that paper."
-
-Larry signed it unsteadily but clearly.
-
-"Have you seen your wife, Rivers?" Northrup passed a cheque across the
-table.
-
-"I'm going to see her to-morrow--I have up to Friday, you know."
-
-"Yes, that's true. I must go to-morrow morning, but I'll make sure you
-keep to your bargain."
-
-"And--you?" Rivers's lips curled.
-
-"I have kept my bargain."
-
-"And you'll get away without talking to my wife?"
-
-Northrup's eyes grew dark.
-
-"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."
-
-"I'll get out all right."
-
-"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----"
-
-"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?"
-
-"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."
-
-With that Northrup left the shack and retraced his lonely way to the
-inn.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Could he hope for her understanding if without another word he left
-her to draw her own conclusions from his future life?
-
-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.
-
-Then, as it was always to be in the time on ahead, Mary-Clare herself
-seemed to speak to him.
-
-"It is what one does to love that matters." That was it--"What one
-does."
-
-With this fixed in his mind Northrup wrote:
-
-  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.
-
-  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.
-
-  There was a mad moment on the hill that last day we met--you saved
-  it.
-
-  There is a greater thing than love--it is truth, and that is why I
-  must bid you good-bye--in this way.
-
-Crude and jagged as the thought was, Northrup, in rereading his words,
-did not now shrink from Mary-Clare's interpretation. She _would_
-understand.
-
-After an early breakfast, at which Kathryn did not 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 _calm_ 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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Take it, Jan-an," Larry urged. "I'd like to remember you taking it."
-
-The girl, thus urged, hid the money in her bosom and shuffled out.
-
-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 debris of the Point.
-
-Never before had he been so surely leaving everything as he was now.
-In the old days of separation, there had always been _home_ 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.
-
-Traditional prejudice rose in Rivers and made him hard and bitter. He
-felt himself a victim of others' misunderstanding.
-
-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.
-
-"And Mary-Clare!" At this his face set cruelly. "She should have stood
-by me. What was her sense of duty, anyway?"
-
-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 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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Mary-Clare looked at her husband distantly but not unkindly. She did
-not resent his being there--the Place was no longer hers alone.
-
-"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.
-
-"A letter."
-
-"Full of directions, I suppose?" Larry smiled an ugly, keen smile.
-
-"Directions? What do you mean?"
-
-"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."
-
-Mary-Clare stared at Rivers in helpless amazement--but her fingers
-closed more firmly upon the note.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Do you know why my father kept me from home and put you in my place?"
-he demanded.
-
-"No, Larry."
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"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, 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.
-
-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.
-
-"Don't, Larry"--Mary-Clare spoke at last and there were tears in her
-eyes--"please don't. You've said enough."
-
-She felt as though she were looking at the dying face of a suicide.
-
-"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."
-
-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:
-
-"You mean--that he did not want me to marry you? And that last
-night--he did not say--what you said you understood?"
-
-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.
-
-"Oh!" The one word was like a blighting shaft that killed all that was
-left to kill.
-
-Larry put forth a pitiful defence.
-
-"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 the hush
-money I have now, I'm coming back for more--more--and you and he are
-going to pay."
-
-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.
-
-"Give that to me!" he commanded, and reached for the clenched hand on
-the table.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Larry did both and Mary-Clare took no heed.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Brace, dear," she whispered, "I'm so afraid. The storm; everything
-frightens me. Take me in your arms."
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"All right!" Noreen said at last. "We'll both do something."
-
-This clever psychological ruse brought Jan-an to her normal state.
-
-"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."
-
-This was a great concession on Noreen's part, for she revelled in the
-leading role, as it gave full play to her dramatic sense of justice.
-
-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, 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.
-
-But the interest flagged at length, and both Jan-an and Noreen became
-silent and depressed.
-
-"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?"
-
-Noreen was replacing her favoured children in the crannies of the
-rocks, but she turned now to Jan-an and said wistfully:
-
-"I want Motherly."
-
-"She's biding terrible long up yonder."
-
-"P'raps, oh! Jan-an, p'raps that lady you were telling about has taken
-Motherly!"
-
-Noreen became agitated, but Jan-an with blind intuition scoffed.
-
-"No; whatever she took, she wouldn't take her! But she took Mr.
-Northrup, all right. Her kind takes just fierce! I sense her."
-
-Noreen looked blank.
-
-"Tell me about the heathen, Jan-an," she said. "What _did_ he eat when
-Uncle Peter wouldn't let him have Ginger?"
-
-"I don't know, but I did miss two rabbits."
-
-"Live ones, Jan-an?" Noreen's eyes widened.
-
-"Sure, live ones. Everything's live till it's killed. I ain't saying
-he et 'em 'live."
-
-"Maybe the rabbits got away," Noreen suggested hopefully.
-
-"The Lord knows! Maybe they did." Then Jan-an added further
-information: "I guess your father has gone for good!"
-
-"Took?" Noreen was not now overcome by grief.
-
-"No, just gone. He gave me a dollar."
-
-"A dollar, Jan-an? A whole dollar?" This was almost unbelievable.
-Jan-an produced the evidence from her loose and soiled blouse.
-
-"He left his place terribly tidy, too," she ran on, "and when a man
-does that Peneluna says it's awful suspicious."
-
-"Jan-an, you wait here--I'm going up to the cabin!"
-
-Noreen stood up defiantly. She was possessed by one of her sudden
-flashes of inspiration.
-
-"Yer ain't been called," warned Jan-an.
-
-"I know, but I _must_ go. I'll only peep in. Maybe Motherly took a
-back way to the inn."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Noreen reached the shack and peeped in at the vine-covered window.
-What she saw marked a turning-point in the child's life.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-But again Mary-Clare, from exhaustion or faintness, slipped into
-silence, and so Noreen found her!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Uncle Peter!
-
-Aunt Polly!
-
-Peneluna! And then Jan-an! Jan-an!
-
-As she sobbed and screamed Mary-Clare's eyes opened and she smiled. At
-that moment Jan-an came stumbling into the room.
-
-One look and the dull, faithful creature became a machine carrying out
-the routine that she had often shared with others on the Point.
-
-"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.
-
-"She's had a fall," Jan-an announced. Mary-Clare opened her eyes--the
-words found an echo in her heavy brain.
-
-"Yes," she whispered.
-
-"And on an empty stummick!" Jan-an had a sympathetic twinge.
-
-"Yes," again Mary-Clare whispered and smiled.
-
-"Noreen, you go on sopping her face--I'm going to get something hot."
-
-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, thinking, and it hurt her to think consecutively--but she
-thought on.
-
-"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.
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-Outside the darkness of the coming storm pressed close, the wind was
-straining at the leash, the lightning darted and the thunder rolled.
-
-"The storm," murmured Mary-Clare, "the storm! It is the breaking up of
-summer!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-She felt as one must who, escaping from an overwhelming flood, looks
-upon the destruction and wonders at her own escape. But she _had_
-escaped! That became, presently, the one gripping fact. She had
-escaped and she would find safety somewhere.
-
-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.
-
-And then Mary-Clare led the way down the trail--her leaf-strewn,
-hidden trail. She held Noreen's hand in hers but she leaned upon
-Jan-an. As they descended Mary-Clare planned.
-
-"When we get home, Jan-an, home to the yellow house, I want you to go
-for Peneluna."
-
-From all the world, Mary-Clare desired the old understanding woman.
-
-"I guess you mean Aunt Polly," Jan-an suggested.
-
-"No. To-morrow, Aunt Polly, Jan-an. To-day I want Peneluna."
-
-"All right." Jan-an nodded.
-
-"And, Noreen dear."
-
-"Yes, Motherly."
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, Motherly."
-
-"I may have to rest a little, but you must not be worried--you see,
-Mother hasn't rested in a long while."
-
-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.
-
-"Now," she said at last, "I'll go. I guess you're edging to the limit,
-ain't yer?"
-
-Mary-Clare nodded.
-
-"I've never been sick, not plain sick, in all my life," she murmured,
-"and why should I be now?"
-
-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.
-
-She touched Noreen's sleeping face so gently that the child did not
-heed the caress. Then:
-
-"Perhaps I am going to die--people die so easily at times--just flare
-out!"
-
-And so Peneluna found her and knelt beside her.
-
-"You hear me, Mary-Clare?"
-
-"Yes. I hear you, of course."
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes, Peneluna."
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-It was a rough and difficult Way and beset with dangers. A physician
-came and diagnosed the case.
-
-"Bad fall--almost concussion."
-
-Aunt Polly came and shared the nursing. Jan-an mechanically attended
-to the house while Uncle Peter took Noreen under his care.
-
-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!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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 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.
-
-"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!"
-
-Surely God heard and made answer, for that night Mary-Clare's Way
-turned back again toward the little yellow house.
-
-When she was able, Aunt Polly insisted that she be moved to the inn.
-
-"It will make less trouble all around and Peneluna will stay on."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-This became a thrilling mental exercise to Mary-Clare, 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.
-
-Presently Mary-Clare was able to walk in the sunshine and then she
-often went to the deserted chapel and sat silent for hours.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-Mary-Clare gathered her cloak closer, as if shrinking from the
-smiling, unwholesome-looking man.
-
-"Yes, I'm getting well fast," she said.
-
-"Hear anything from Larry?" It seemed best to hide his own feelings as
-to Larry.
-
-"No."
-
-"Some worried, I expect?"
-
-"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!
-
-"It's a damned mean way to treat a little woman the way you've been
-treated."
-
-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.
-
-"Left you strapped?" he asked.
-
-"What is that?" Mary-Clare was interested.
-
-"Short of money."
-
-"Oh! no. My wishes are very simple--there's money enough for them."
-
-"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 _as_
-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 _can_ 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 _make_ 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."
-
-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.
-
-"Speak up, Mrs. Rivers!" This came like a poke in the ribs--Mary-Clare
-recoiled as from a physical touch.
-
-"I do not own the Point any longer," she said.
-
-"What in thunder!" Maclin now recoiled. "Who then?"
-
-"I gave it to Larry."
-
-"How the devil could Larry pay you for it?"
-
-"Larry gave me no money."
-
-"Do you expect me to believe this, Mrs. Rivers?" The fat now resumed
-its flaccid lines.
-
-"It doesn't interest me in the least, Mr. Maclin, whether you do or
-not."
-
-Then Mary-Clare rose, rather weakly, and turned toward the bridge.
-
-And there stood Maclin alone! Like all people who have 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.
-
-Had he copied letters with that devilish trick of his? Could he sell
-the Point to--to----?
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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, even, had been cheated. Women were,
-he justly concluded, pretty much a response to ideals created for
-them, not by them.
-
-Mary-Clare was having her way with Northrup!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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--_his_--was threatened. Nothing any longer seemed safe
-unless it were battled for. There was something he owed--what was it?
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"It's all damned rot, Brace," he snapped. "You had a 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."
-
-Thus reassured, Northrup told Kathryn that all the secret diplomacy
-was to be abandoned and that his mother must work with them.
-
-"But, Brace dear, you don't blame me for my fright? I was so
-worried!"
-
-"No, little girl, you were a trump. I'll never forget how you stood
-by!"
-
-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.
-
-"Women! women!" he ejaculated, but there were hours when he, too, had
-his fears.
-
-But in the end, black doubt was driven away.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-He attacked Northrup one day in his sledge-hammer style.
-
-"What in thunder has got mixed up in your personality?" he asked.
-
-"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."
-
-But this did not satisfy Manly.
-
-"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."
-
-"Or the other way about, old man?" Northrup broke in and laughed.
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-Manly twisted in his seat uneasily. Northrup went on.
-
-"Manly"--he spoke quietly, evenly--"do you remember our last talk in
-this office before I left?"
-
-"Well, some of it. Yes."
-
-"Jogs, you know. Mountain peaks, baby hands, women faces, and souls?"
-
-"Oh! yes. Sick talk to a sick man." Manly snapped his fingers.
-
-"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.
-
-"I meant that I saw mine once," he said sharply, definitely.
-
-"How did it look?"
-
-"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."
-
-"No. And that's exactly what I am up against--the get-back!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Wait, dear, until I've finished the thing, and then you and I will
-have a regular gorge of it, up in my tower."
-
-Kathryn at this put up her mouth to be kissed while behind her
-innocent smile she was picturing the girl of King's Forest in those
-awful muddy trousers! _She_ had heard the book in the making; she had
-not been pushed aside.
-
-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 _was_ changed. The subtle
-unrest did not escape Kathryn.
-
-"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!
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-So Kathryn, embroidering her wedding linen--for she meant to be
-married soon--prayed for guidance.
-
-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 _was_ the right sort.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-King's Forest had had a sinister effect upon Manly; it made him doubt
-himself.
-
-And so life, apparently, ran along smoothly on the surface. It was the
-undercurrents that were really carrying things along at a terrific
-rate.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-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 to him in faithfulness and
-understanding? Had she not, setting aside her own rights, looked well
-to his?
-
-The days dragged along and each one took its toll of Northrup's
-vitality while it intensified that crusading emotion in his soul.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Love's supreme sacrifice and glory, as portrayed in woman--_must_ be
-man's ideal, of course!
-
-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.
-
-And then, at this crucial moment, Mary-Clare _would_ always intrude.
-
-"It's what one does to love!" That was her stern ultimatum. "Love's
-best proof might be renunciation, not surrender!"
-
-"Nonsense!" Northrup flung back. "How then could a man be sure? No
-book with such an ending would stand a chance."
-
-"You must not harm your book by such a doubt. That book must be
-_true_, and you know the truth. Women must be made glad by it, men
-stronger because someone understands and is brave enough to say it."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-It was like being with her on that day when they stood on the mountain
-near her cabin and talked.
-
-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 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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup suddenly found himself on his feet.
-
-The little room was dark; the city was blazing about him--under him.
-His city! His hand lay upon his manuscript.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX
-
-
-"Mother, I must go!"
-
-Helen Northrup did not tremble, but she looked white, thin-lipped.
-
-"You have given me the twenty-four hours, son. You have weighed the
-question--it is not emotional excitement?"
-
-"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."
-
-Helen Northrup came to the window and stood beside her son. She did
-not touch him; she stood close--that was all.
-
-"I cannot see God in this," she whispered. "God could have found
-another way. I have--lost God. I fear most of us have."
-
-"Perhaps we never had Him," Northrup murmured.
-
-"But there _is_ God--somewhere." Helen's voice quivered. "I shall
-always be near you, beloved, always, and perhaps--God will."
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, I know that, dear son."
-
-For a moment they stood in silence by the window and then turned,
-together, to the fireside.
-
-They were in Helen's writing-room. The room where so 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----
-
-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.
-
-"You have been happy, dear son? I mean you have had a happy life on
-the whole?"
-
-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.
-
-"Yes, Mother. Far too happy and easy."
-
-"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."
-
-Northrup went across the space between him and his mother and laid his
-hand upon hers.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-"And he wasn't?" This had never been discussed between them.
-
-"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."
-
-Another pause. Then:
-
-"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."
-
-"I believe, God hearing me, Mother, that I have understood; have
-always known that you were the best and dearest of mothers."
-
-"Thank you."
-
-"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."
-
-Helen started, but she stiffened at once.
-
-"Yes, Brace," she said simply.
-
-"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."
-
-"Thank you. I understand. Is there anything you would like to have me
-do?"
-
-"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:
-
-"She has a brute of a husband--I hope I freed her of him, in a way;
-I'm glad to think of that now. She has a child, a little girl, and
-there were some dead children."
-
-This detail seemed tragically necessary to tell; it seemed to explain
-all else.
-
-"And now, Mother, I must go around to Kathryn's. Do not sit up, dear.
-I'll come to your room."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"Here, dear! Come and be comfy. This is a big chair and a very little
-me."
-
-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, 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.
-
-"Been dining out, dear?"
-
-The dress suggested this, but Kathryn was alert.
-
-"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?"
-
-Still Northrup did not smile. He was not concerned about Arnold, but
-he seemed such a nuisance at this moment.
-
-Kathryn, regarding Northrup's face, sat up and her eyes widened.
-
-"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.
-
-"Poor little girl," he whispered. Kathryn also misunderstood, she
-nestled against him.
-
-"Big man," she murmured, "he _is_ going to be nice. Kiss me
-here--close behind my right ear--always and always that is going to be
-just your place."
-
-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:
-
-"Darling, I am going away!"
-
-"Away--where?" Kathryn became rigid.
-
-"Overseas."
-
-"Overseas? What for, in heaven's name?"
-
-"Oh! anything they'll let me do. I'm going as soon as I can be
-sent--but----"
-
-"You mean, without any reason whatever, you're going to go over
-there?"
-
-"Hardly without something that stands for reason, Kathryn."
-
-"But no one, not even Doctor Manly, thinks that it is our fight,
-Brace. The men who have gone are simply adventurers; men who love
-excitement or men who want to cut responsibilities and don't dare
-confess it."
-
-Kathryn's face flamed hot.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"Oh! you must not leave me," she quivered.
-
-"You will help me, Kathryn; be a woman like my mother?" Again Northrup
-pleaded. This was unfortunate. It steadied Kathryn, but it hardened
-her.
-
-"You want me to marry you at once, Brace?" she whispered.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"He cannot stand it any longer," she thought resentfully; "he's
-willing to do anything, take any chance."
-
-A hot wave of anger enveloped Kathryn, but she did not speak.
-
-"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."
-
-"What can I say, Brace? You never see _my_ 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 _smile_ so as to
-send them off unworried. We must stay home and be _nothings_ until the
-end and then take what's left--joyfully, gratefully--oh! I hate it
-all."
-
-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:
-
-"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 _you_----"
-
-"You mean that _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."
-
-"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!"
-
-"Sisters?" Kathryn laughed her mirthless but musical laugh. "You _are_
-funny, Brace!"
-
-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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"No, Kathryn. This is a matter of principle with me."
-
-"You think they might not let you go--you'd have to provide for my
-protection?"
-
-"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."
-
-"That sounds very fine, but _I_ do not believe it!"
-
-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.
-
-"Is _she_ going over there?" she asked.
-
-Northrup, if possible, looked more bewildered and dazed.
-
-"She--whom do you mean, Kathryn?"
-
-"Oh! I never meant to tell you! You drive me to it, Brace. I always
-meant to blot it out----"
-
-Kathryn got no further just then. Northrup came close to her and with
-folded arms fixed his eyes upon her flushed face.
-
-"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'?"
-
-Kathryn mentally recoiled and with her back to her wall replied, out
-of the corner of her mouth:
-
-"That girl in King's Forest!"
-
-From sheer astonishment Northrup drew back as from a blow. Kathryn
-misunderstood and gained courage.
-
-"I forgave it because I love you, Brace." She gathered her cheap
-little charms together--her sex appeals. "I understood from the moment
-I saw her."
-
-"When did you see her? Where?"
-
-Northrup had recovered himself; he was able to think. He knew he must
-act quickly, emphatically, and he generously tried to be just.
-
-Keen to take advantage of what she believed was guilt, Kathryn
-responded, dragging her lures along with her.
-
-"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?"
-
-The tears stood in Kathryn's eyes, her mouth quivered. Northrup
-softened.
-
-"Go on, Kathryn. I _do_ understand."
-
-"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----"
-
-"Yes, Kathryn!" Northrup was seeing it all--the cabin, the silent
-red-and-gold woods.
-
-"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 _she_ must have realized.
-Oh! Brace, I tried to be kind, but I had to take your part and she
-turned me out!"
-
-In all this Northrup felt his way as one does along a narrow 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?
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-Love! This poor, shabby counterfeit.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"You are going at once?" Kathryn clutched at what was eluding her.
-
-"Yes, my dear."
-
-"And you won't marry me? Won't--prove to me?"
-
-"No."
-
-"Oh! how can you leave me to think----"
-
-"Think what, Kathryn?"
-
-"Oh! things--about her. It would be such a proof of what you've just
-said--if only you would marry me now."
-
-"Kathryn, I cannot. I am--I wish that you could understand--I am
-stepping out into the dark. I must go alone."
-
-"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.
-
-"I will wait for you, Brace. I will prove to you what a woman's real
-love is!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Yes, dear?" she said.
-
-Northrup sat down in the chair that was his by his mother's hearth.
-
-"Kathryn wanted to marry me, Mother, at once."
-
-"That would be like her, bless her heart!"
-
-"I could not accept the sacrifice, Mother."
-
-"That would be like you--but is it a sacrifice?"
-
-"It seems so to me."
-
-"You see, son, to many women this is the supreme offering. All _they_
-can give, vicariously, at this great demanding hour."
-
-"Women must learn to stop that rubbish, Mother. We men must refuse
-it."
-
-"Why, Brace!" Then: "Are you quite, quite sure it was all for Kathryn,
-son?"
-
-"No, partly for myself; but that must include and emphasize Kathryn's
-share."
-
-"I see--at least I think I do."
-
-"But you have faith, Mother?"
-
-"Yes, faith! Surely, faith."
-
-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:
-
-"And you, Mother, what will you do? I cannot bear to think of you
-waiting here alone."
-
-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.
-
-"I'm not going to--wait, dear, in the sense you mean. I'm going to
-work and get ready for your return."
-
-"Work?" Northrup looked anxious. Helen smiled down upon him.
-
-"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 it. While you are away you must think of me, busy--busy!"
-
-Then she bent and laid her pale fine face against the dark bowed
-head.
-
-"You are tired, dear, very, very tired. You must go to bed and
-rest--there is so much to do; so much."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI
-
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"And don't come back till spring!" she commanded.
-
-"Spring?" Jan-an paused as she was strapping on an old pair of skates
-that once belonged to Philander Sniff. "Spring? Gawd!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-At the inn a vague something--was it old age or lost faith?--was
-trying to conquer Peter's philosophy and Aunt Polly's spiritual
-vision. The _Thing_, 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.
-
-As for herself? Well, Aunt Polly nourished her own brave spirit by
-service and an insistent, demanding cry of justice.
-
-"'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."
-
-Polly waxed eloquent and courageous; she kept her own faith by voicing
-it to others; it grew upon reiteration.
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"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.
-
-"Don't leg me, Peter Heathcote, I'm terrible ashamed of you. Terrible.
-So long as you _have_ legs, brother--and you _have_!--I say use 'em.
-Half the troubles in this world are _think troubles_, laid to legs and
-backs and what not."
-
-"Where you been?" Peter eyed the stern little face glowering at him.
-"You look tuckered."
-
-"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!"
-
-Peter winced and Polly rambled on:
-
-"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!"
-
-Peter regarded the dog by his side and remarked sadly:
-
-"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."
-
-"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?"
-
-"No." Peter's hair sprang up; his face reddened. Polly noted the good
-signs and took heart.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, brother, and what else?"
-
-"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.
-
-"I guess the Lord can care for His own, Peter," Polly remarked
-fiercely.
-
-"Then Maclin came!" Peter groaned out the words, for this was the crux
-of the matter.
-
-"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."
-
-Peter gave a rumbling laugh.
-
-"Maclin a tester!" he repeated. "Lord, Polly, yer notions are more
-messing than clearing."
-
-"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."
-
-Peter was not listening, he was thinking aloud.
-
-"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!"
-
-"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!"
-
-"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!"
-
-"Well, he didn't do it!" Polly snapped. "And it seems like God is
-giving us another chance; same as He is the world."
-
-Peter got up and stumped noisily about the kitchen much to Ginger's
-surprise and discomfort.
-
-"We're old, Polly," he muttered; "the heart's taken out of us. We led
-'em astray because we didn't lead 'em right."
-
-"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."
-
-"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!"
-
-"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."
-
-"But, Polly"--poor Peter's humanity had received a terrible jog--"the
-look on Maclin's face--when he was caught!"
-
-"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_ 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!"
-
-But Peter could not be diverted.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Well, he should have held still--he put up fight. Brother, you make
-me indignant."
-
-"They mauled him, Polly, mauled him. And they took him--to what?"
-
-Polly got up.
-
-"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?"
-
-"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?"
-
-This sudden question roused Aunt Polly; she had hoped it would not be
-asked.
-
-"Yes, Peter. Twombley has," she faltered.
-
-"Where is he?" Peter's mouth gaped.
-
-"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."
-
-A silence fell in the warm, sunny room. Then Polly spoke with a catch
-in her voice:
-
-"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."
-
-"I guess that's sensible," Peter nodded, "he mightn't do it, you
-know."
-
-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.
-
-"It's powerful hot here!" Peter muttered, wiping his face. "And what
-in thunder ails that dog?"
-
-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.
-
-"Fits?" Peter looked concerned. But Polly had an inspiration.
-
-"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?"
-
-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.
-
-"Peter dear, spring is here!" Polly said this like a prayer.
-
-"Spring!" Peter's voice echoed the sound. Then he turned to the closet
-for his coat and hat.
-
-"Where you going, brother?"
-
-The big bulky figure, ready for a new adventure, turned at the door.
-
-"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."
-
-Polly watched the two pass from sight and then she readjusted her
-spectacles to the far-off angle.
-
-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.
-
-"I never saw such a responsive door!" she said. "I really knocked very
-gently. Please tell me how far it is to the inn?"
-
-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.
-
-"Just three miles to the south." Mary-Clare came close. "You are
-walking? I will send my little girl with you. Noreen?"
-
-But Jan-an was holding Noreen back.
-
-"She's one of them other children of Eve!" she cautioned. "Don't
-forget the other one!"
-
-"Thank you so much," the stranger was speaking. "But may I rest here
-for a moment? These children--is it a school."
-
-"A queer one, I'm afraid. We're all teachers, all pupils--even the
-dogs."
-
-Mary-Clare looked at her small group.
-
-"One has to do something, you know," she said. "Something to help."
-
-"Yes. And will you send the children away for a moment? I have
-something to say to you."
-
-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.
-
-When the children were gone the stranger leaned forward and said
-quietly:
-
-"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."
-
-The tears stood in Mary-Clare's wide eyes, her lips trembled.
-
-"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."
-
-"Oh! can we? Why, that would be the most splendid thing. We're all
-so--so frightened."
-
-"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.
-
-"Yes." Mary-Clare was impressed.
-
-"And there's iron on the Point--we must get at that--you own the
-Point?"
-
-"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.
-
-"I see. Well, we must get this Mr. Northrup busy, then. Where is he?"
-
-Mrs. Dana tucked the book away and her eyes looked kindly into
-Mary-Clare's.
-
-"I do not know. He went to his--to the city--New York."
-
-"And you have never heard from him?"
-
-"No."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"I like the look of you," she confided softly.
-
-"I'm glad. I like the look of you very much, little Noreen."
-
-"Do you know any stories or songs?" Noreen had her private test.
-
-"I used to, but it has been a long while since I thought about them.
-Do you know any, Noreen?"
-
-"Oh! many. My man taught me. He taught me to be unafraid, too."
-
-"Your man, little girl?" Mrs. Dana turned her eyes away.
-
-"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."
-
-"And he sang for you?"
-
-"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.
-
-"I used to. It goes something like this--doesn't it?
-
-    "Up the airy mountain
-    Down the rustly glen----
-
-I have forgotten the rest." Mrs. Dana closed her eyes.
-
-"Oh! that's kingdiferous," Noreen laughed with delight. "I'll sing the
-rest, then we'll sing together:
-
-    "We daren't go a-hunting
-      For fear of little men.
-    Wee folk, good folk
-      Trooping all together,
-    Green jacket, red cap
-      And white owl's feather."
-
-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.
-
-"Now, then," Noreen insisted, "we can sing it betterer this time.
-
-    "Green jacket, red cap
-      And white owl's feather."
-
-Suddenly Noreen stopped.
-
-"Your face looks funny," she said. "Your lips are laughing, but your
-eyes--is it the sun in your eyes?"
-
-Mrs. Dana bent until her head was close to Noreen's.
-
-"Little girl, little Noreen," she said, "that is it--the sun is in my
-eyes."
-
-"There's the inn!" Noreen was uncomfortable. Things were not turning
-out quite as gaily as she hoped. Things did not, any more.
-
-"Shall I go right to the door with you?" she asked.
-
-"No. I want to go alone. Good-bye, Noreen."
-
-"I hope you'll stay a long time!" Noreen paused on the road.
-
-"Why, dear?"
-
-"Because Motherly liked you, and I like you. Good-bye."
-
-And Mrs. Dana stayed a long time, though after the first week her
-sojourn was marked by incidents, not hours.
-
-"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."
-
-Twombley shifted in his chair--the two men were sitting in the spring
-sunshine by Twombley's door.
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, I reckon that's safest." Peter was uplifted, but cautious.
-
-"She's set Peneluna to painting all the houses--yeller," Twombley
-rambled on, the smell of fresh paint filling his nostrils. "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."
-
-"Mighty queer doings!" Heathcote agreed.
-
-"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."
-
-Peter drew his chair closer.
-
-"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."
-
-"Gosh! Heathcote; it's like the Judgment Day and no place to hide
-in!"
-
-"That's about it, Twombley. No place to hide in."
-
-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.
-
-                  *       *       *       *       *
-
-The summer passed, another winter--not so cruel as the last--and the
-spring came, less violently.
-
-                  *       *       *       *       *
-
-It was early summer when another event shook the none-too-steady
-Forest. Larry came home!
-
-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.
-
-"It is--you, ain't it?" she gasped.
-
-"What's left of me--yes." There was a strange new note in Rivers's
-voice.
-
-Jan-an's horror-filled eyes took in the significance of the words.
-
-"Where's--the rest of you?" she gasped.
-
-Larry touched the pinned-up leg of his trousers.
-
-"I paid a debt with the rest," he said, and there was that in his
-voice that brought Jan-an closer to him.
-
-"Where yer bound for?" she asked, her dull face quivering.
-
-"I don't know. A fellow gave me a lift and dropped me--here."
-
-"You come along home!" Jan-an bent and half lifted Larry. "Lean on me.
-There, now, lean heavy and take it easy."
-
-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.
-
-"Larry!" she faltered. She was utterly unprepared. She had been kept
-in ignorance of the little that others knew.
-
-"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.
-
-"You have come--home, Larry! Home. Your father's home."
-
-And then Larry's head rested on her shoulder; her arms upheld him, for
-the crutch clattered to the floor.
-
-"My father's home," he repeated like a hurt child--"that's it--my
-father's home."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXII
-
-
-But beyond that exalted moment stretched the plain, drear days. Days
-holding subtle danger and marvellous revelations.
-
-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.
-
-"Perhaps, if I pay and pay"--he had pleaded with the sad thing--"I can
-win out yet!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-She assumed an old and protecting manner toward him that would have
-been amusing had it not been so tragically pathetic.
-
-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.
-
-"You're my baby, daddy-linkum, and I'm your motherly. Come, shut your
-eyes, and lall a leep!"
-
-And Larry would sleep, often to awake with an unwholesome merriment
-that frightened Mary-Clare.
-
-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:
-
-"It's great, this being home!"
-
-"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.
-
-"Are you, honest?"
-
-"Yes, Larry. Honest."
-
-"I wonder." It was the old voice now. "When I lay out there, and
-crawled along----"
-
-"Please, Larry, we have agreed not to talk of that!"
-
-"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."
-
-"Please, Larry!"
-
-"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."
-
-"Yes, second sight, Larry."
-
-"And Noreen--she is mine, Mary-Clare." This was flung out defiantly.
-
-"Part yours. Yes, Larry."
-
-"She's a great kid. Old as the hills and then again--a baby-thing."
-
-"We must not strain her, Larry, we cannot afford to put too heavy a
-load on her. She would bear it until she dropped."
-
-"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?"
-
-"I haven't been there for a long while, Larry." Mary-Clare's hands
-clutched each other until the bones ached.
-
-"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."
-
-"Larry, I will not talk about that--ever!"
-
-"You can't forgive?"
-
-"I have forgiven long ago."
-
-"Nothing happened between you and him, Mary-Clare. You're great stuff.
-Great! And so is he."
-
-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.
-
-"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----"
-
-The heart of Mary-Clare seemed to stop as the groping fingers touched
-her.
-
-"Look at me, Mary-Clare!"
-
-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.
-
-"You mean you do not care?" Larry's voice shook like a frightened
-child's; "that you'll never care?"
-
-"I care tremendously, Larry, and I will do my best. But you must not
-ask for more."
-
-"Good God! and I crawled back for this!" The words ended in a sob;
-"for this! I thought I could pay but I cannot--ever, ever!"
-
-                  *       *       *       *       *
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Mother!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"It doesn't seem possible, you know!" he said.
-
-"Being home, dear?" Helen watched him. Every new line of his fine
-brown face made her lips firmer.
-
-"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. 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."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-Helen was half sick with fear of what would occur when Brace saw
-Kathryn.
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-It was long after eight o'clock, that first evening, when Northrup
-left his mother's house.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"Will you wait, sir, in the reception-room?" The trim maid looked
-flurried. "I will tell Miss Kathryn at once."
-
-Northrup sat down in the dim room, fragrant with flowers, and a sense
-of peace overcame his doubts.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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:
-
-"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."
-
-"Please, Sandy, you are cruel." Kathryn was pleading.
-
-"Cruel be damned! And what are you? I want you--you've told me that
-you loved me--what's the big idea?"
-
-"Oh! Sandy, do lower your voice. Aunt Anna will think the servants are
-quarrelling."
-
-"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.
-
-"What in thunder!" Sandy gave a coarse laugh. "Keeping to the servant
-notion, eh? Want me to go out the side door? Why?"
-
-"Oh! Sandy, you won't mind?--I have a reason, I'll tell you some
-day."
-
-There was a pause, a scuffle. Then:
-
-"Sandy, you are hurting me!"
-
-"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?"
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-"Brace! Brace!" she cried, her lovely eyes widening. "You have come."
-
-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:
-
-"You see, I happened to hear you and Arnold."
-
-Kathryn's face went deadly white.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-Kathryn stood still, breathing hard.
-
-"Yes or no!"
-
-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!
-
-"Yes," she said gaspingly.
-
-"You mean you love Arnold; that only duty held you to me?"
-
-"Yes."
-
-"Well, by God!" Northrup flung his head back and laughed--"and after
-all I have been fearing, too!"
-
-To her dying day Kathryn never knew what he meant by those words.
-There was a moment's silence, then Northrup spoke again:
-
-"I don't think there is anything more to say. Shall I take the side
-entrance?"
-
-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.
-
-"Good God!" Northrup thought, "we're coming back to all kinds of
-hells."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-He went in and stood near her.
-
-"I've about concluded," he said harshly, "that the fellows who keep to
-the herd are the sensible ones."
-
-The words conveyed no meaning to Helen Northrup, but the tones did.
-
-"Sit down, dear," she said calmly. "If this shower strikes us, I do
-not want to be alone."
-
-Northrup drew a chair to the window and the red flashes lighted his
-face luridly.
-
-"Having ideals is rot. Dying for them, madness. Mother, it's all over
-between Kathryn and me!"
-
-Helen's own development had done more for her than she would ever
-realize, but from out its strength and security she spoke:
-
-"Brace, I am glad! Now you can live your ideals."
-
-Northrup turned sharply.
-
-"What do you mean?" he said.
-
-"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 _really_ is,
-looming dark over the girl she made us believe she was. I have feared
-for you, but now I am glad. Brace, there _are_ women a man can count
-on. Cling hold of that."
-
-"Yes, I know that, of course."
-
-"Women whose honour is as high and clear as that of the best of men."
-
-"Yes, Mother."
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-Northrup needed comfort, Heaven knew, but it must come from within,
-not without.
-
-At that instant Helen Northrup gripped the arms of her chair and sent
-a quick prayer to the God of mothers of grown sons.
-
-"The storm seems to be passing," she said quietly.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Mother, how _did_ you do it?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-They bade each other good-night. Mother and son, they looked
-marvellously alike at that moment. Then:
-
-"I declare, I almost forgot Manly. How has this all struck him,
-Mother?"
-
-Helen's face was radiant.
-
-"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."
-
-"He'll reach the top, Mother. Manly's bound for the top of things."
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIII
-
-
-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.
-
-It was slow work. Good God! how slow, and oh, the suffering!
-
-He had paid a high price but he could now look at his city without
-shame.
-
-This was a fortifying thought, but a lonely one, and it did not lead
-to constructive work. The days were listless and empty.
-
-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.
-
-But the intelligence and concentration were not in his power to
-bestow.
-
-After a few days he regarded his new freedom with strange exhilaration
-mingled with fear and distrust.
-
-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?
-
-One could err in duty, it seemed.
-
-He was free! He had not exacted freedom! It had been thrust upon him
-so brutally, that it had, for a spell, sent him reeling into space.
-
-Not being able to resume his work, Northrup got to thinking about
-King's Forest with concentration, if not intelligence.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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?
-
-Sitting alone under his dome of changing lights, Northrup became a
-prey to whimsical fancies that amused while they hurt.
-
-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.
-
-The sweet human qualities he knew were not lacking in Mary-Clare. They
-were simply heightened, brightened.
-
-All this led to but one thing.
-
-Something was bound to happen, and suddenly Northrup decided to go to
-King's Forest!
-
-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 to make preparations. Of
-course, he argued, he meant to keep the spirit, if not the letter, of
-his agreement with Larry Rivers.
-
-This was not safe reasoning, and he set it aside impatiently.
-
-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.
-
-He did the distance in half the time. His strong, hardened body served
-him well and his desire spurred him on.
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-It was autumn and the days were growing short.
-
-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."
-
-At that voice Northrup slammed the door behind him and strode across
-the space separating him from Larry Rivers!
-
-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.
-
-Northrup in a moment grasped the essentials.
-
-"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.
-
-"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."
-
-"Well, I'm here, too, Rivers. Life has been stronger than either of
-us. We've both drifted back."
-
-Larry turned away his head. It was then that Northrup caught the full
-significance of what life had done to Rivers!
-
-"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!"
-
-Larry was now nervously twisting his fingers, and his face grew
-ashen.
-
-"I'm listening, Rivers. Go on."
-
-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.
-
-"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.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes, Rivers, I see." There could be no mercy in deceiving this
-desperate man.
-
-"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!"
-
-"Perhaps your longing brought me, Rivers. Things like that happen, you
-know."
-
-Northrup, moved by pity, laid his hand on the shrunken ones near him.
-All feeling of antagonism was gone.
-
-"It began the night I was shot," Larry's voice fell, "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!
-
-"There were two of us that night, Northrup, two of us crawling away
-from the hell in the dark. You know!"
-
-"Yes, Rivers, I know."
-
-"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.
-
-"When help came, there was only room for one. One had to wait.
-
-"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!
-
-"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."
-
-"I think, Rivers, you played fair!"
-
-"Why? Northrup, what makes you think that?" The haggard face seemed to
-look less ghastly.
-
-"I've seen others do it at such a time."
-
-"Others like me?"
-
-"Yes, Rivers, many times."
-
-"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.
-
-"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.
-
-"That's what it is--my father's house. You catch on?"
-
-"Yes, Rivers, I catch on." Then after a pause: "Let me light the
-lamp." But Rivers caught hold of him.
-
-"No, don't waste time--they may come back at any moment--there'll
-never be another chance."
-
-"All right, go on, Rivers."
-
-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.
-
-"There isn't much more to say. I wanted you to know that I'm not going
-to be in the way very long.
-
-"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."
-
-"It means that and more, Rivers."
-
-Northrup heard his own words with a kind of shock. Again he and Rivers
-were stripped bare as once before they had been.
-
-"It--it won't be long, Northrup--there's damned little I can do to--to
-make good, but--I can do this."
-
-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.
-
-"Rivers, you are a brave man," he slowly said. "Will you shake
-hands?"
-
-The thin cold fingers instantly responded.
-
-"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."
-
-Then something of the old Larry flashed to the surface: the old, weak
-relaxing, the unmoral craving for another's solution of his problems.
-
-"Oh, it always has to be someone to help me out," he said.
-
-"You know about Maclin?"
-
-"Yes, Rivers."
-
-"Well, I did the turn for that damned scoundrel. I got the Forest out
-of his clutches."
-
-"Yes, you did when you got your eyes opened, Rivers."
-
-"They're open now, Northrup, but there always has to be--someone to
-help me out."
-
-"Rivers, where is your wife?" So suddenly did Northrup ask this that
-Larry started and gave a quick laugh.
-
-"She went to that cabin of hers--you know?"
-
-"Yes, I know."
-
-Both men were reliving old scenes.
-
-Then Larry spoke, but the laugh no longer rang in his tone:
-
-"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!"
-
-"That's right, never!" Northrup murmured. Then he added:
-
-"I'll come back with her, Rivers, soon. I'm going to stay at the inn
-for a time."
-
-Their hands clung together for a moment longer while one man
-relinquished, the other accepted. Then Northrup turned to the door.
-
-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!
-
-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!
-
-The sight of youth beaten is a terrible sight, and Mary-Clare, off her
-guard, alone and suffering, believed herself 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.
-
-Northrup did not speak--he could not. With gratitude he presently saw
-the dear head lift bravely, the trembling smile curl her cold lips.
-
-"You--have come!"
-
-"Yes, Mary-Clare."
-
-"How--did you know--where I was?"
-
-"I stopped at the yellow house. I saw your--I saw Larry--he told me
-where to find you."
-
-"He told you that?"
-
-The bravery flickered--but pride rallied.
-
-"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?"
-
-"Yes, Mary-Clare."
-
-"She takes care of her father in that way, now that she understands
-his need."
-
-"She would. That would be Noreen's way."
-
-"Yes, her way. And I am glad he came back to us. It might all have
-been so different."
-
-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.
-
-"Yes, Mary-Clare. Your old philosophy has proved itself."
-
-"I am glad you believe that."
-
-"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."
-
-"Oh! I am glad to hear you say that."
-
-Mary-Clare caught her breath.
-
-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.
-
-The small, common things crept into the conversation for a time, then
-Mary-Clare asked hesitatingly:
-
-"You--you are happy? And your book?"
-
-"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!"
-
-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.
-
-"You know I went across the water to do my part?" he asked quickly.
-
-"You would, of course. That call found such men as you. Larry went,
-too!" This came proudly.
-
-"Yes, and he paid more than I did, Mary-Clare."
-
-"He had more to pay--there was Maclin. Do you know about Maclin?"
-
-"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."
-
-"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."
-
-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.
-
-"Yes, of course! And it would be like her to drop in at the
-psychological moment."
-
-"She set us to work!" Mary-Clare went on. "She is the most wonderful
-woman I ever knew."
-
-"She must be!"
-
-Slower and slower the two walked down the trail. They were clutching
-the few golden moments.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-"They always leave it so for me," Mary-Clare whispered. "You see how
-everything is?"
-
-"Yes, I see, Mary-Clare."
-
-Northrup reached forth and drew the small clasped hands into his
-own!--then he bent and kissed them.
-
-"I see, I see."
-
-"And you will come in? Larry loves company."
-
-"Not to-night, Mary-Clare, but to-morrow. I am going to stay at the
-inn for a few days."
-
-"Oh! I am glad!" Almost the brave voice broke.
-
-"There is something else I see, my dear," Northrup ignored the poor
-disguise for a moment. "I see the meaning of _you_ as I never saw it
-before. You have never broken faith! That is above all else--it is all
-else."
-
-"I have tried." Upon the clasped hands tears fell, but Northrup caught
-the note of joy in her grieving voice.
-
-"You have carried on what your doctor entrusted to you."
-
-"Oh! thank you, bless you for saying that."
-
-"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.
-
-Alone, a little later, on the road, Northrup experienced that strange
-feeling of having left something back there in the yellow house.
-
-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.
-
-And then, as if hurrying to complete the old memory, Mary-Clare seemed
-to be following, following in the darkness.
-
-Northrup's lips closed grimly. He squared his shoulders to his task.
-
-He must go on, keeping his mind fixed upon the brighter 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."
-
-THE END
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's At the Crossroads, by Harriet T. Comstock
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