diff options
Diffstat (limited to '30600-h')
24 files changed, 7683 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/30600-h/30600-h.htm b/30600-h/30600-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b4918c --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/30600-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7683 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Pines of Lory, by John Ames Mitchell + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> +body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} +p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; text-align:justify;} +p + p {margin-top:0; text-indent:1em;} +div.bquote {font-size:0.9em; margin:5px 5%;} +div.bquote p {text-indent:0em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} +div.center {text-indent:0em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} +div.poetry {text-indent:0em; margin-left:2em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} +p.center {text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} +p.caption {font-size:smaller; text-indent:0em;} +p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} +h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} +h1 {display:none;} +h1.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; display:block;} +h2 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +a {text-decoration:none;} +div.figcenter p {text-align:center;} +div.figcenter {text-align:center; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em;} +span.h2fs {font-size:smaller;} +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; clear:both;} +hr.tb {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; height: 1px; width: 10em; text-align: center; margin: 10px auto;} +hr.pb {border:none; page-break-after:always; margin-top:4em;} +.pagenum {display:none;} +.pncolor {color:inherit;} + +@media screen { +hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver;} +.pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} +.pncolor {color:silver;} +} + + .center { text-align: center; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> + <h1 class="pg"> + The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Pines of Lory, by John Ames Mitchell, + Illustrated by Albert D. Blashfield + </h1> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> + <p> + Title: The Pines of Lory + </p> + <p> + Author: John Ames Mitchell + </p> + <p> + Release Date: December 4, 2009 [eBook #30600] + </p> + <p> + Language: English + </p> + <p> + Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + </p> + <p> + ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PINES OF LORY*** + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h3 class="center"> + E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> and the Project Gutenberg Online + Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> (http://www.pgdp.net) + </h3> + <p> + + </p> + <hr class="full" /> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + THE PINES OF LORY + </h1> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/f0002-image.jpg" id="img001" alt="" /> + <p class="center caption"> + “It is no gardener’s cottage” + </p> + </div> + <hr class="pb" /> + <p class="tp" style=""> + THE + </p> + <p class="tp" style="font-size:2.0em;margin-bottom:10px;"> + PINES OF LORY + </p> + <p class="tp" style=""> + By + </p> + <p class="tp" style="font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:10px;"> + J. A. Mitchell + </p> + <p class="tp" style="font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:10px;"> + <i>Author of “Amos Judd,” “That First Affair,”<br />“Gloria + Victis,” etc.</i> + </p> + <p class="tp" style="margin-bottom:20px;font-size:smaller;"> + DECORATIONS BY ALBERT D. BLASHFIELD + </p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/f0003-image.jpg" id="img002" alt="" /> + </div> + <p class="tp" style="margin-top:20px;"> + New York + </p> + <p class="tp" style=""> + Life Publishing Company + </p> + <p class="tp" style=""> + 1901 + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <p class="tp" style=""> + <i>Copyright</i>, 1901 + </p> + <p class="tp" style=""> + <span style="font-variant:small-caps">By J. A. Mitchell</span> + </p> + <p class="tp" style=""> + <i>New York City</i> + </p> + <p class="tp" style=""> + Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London + </p> + <p class="tp" style=""> + Printed in the United States + </p> + <p class="tp" style=""> + <i>All rights reserved</i> + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/f0005-image.jpg" id="img003" alt="" /> + </div> + <p class="tp" style=""> + TO<br /> ALL LOVERS OF LOVERS<br /> AND LOVERS OF OUT-OF-DOOR THINGS<br /> + AND MILDER FORMS OF<br /> FOLLY<br /> THIS BOOK<br /> IS AFFECTIONATELY<br /> + DEDICATED + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <p class="tp" style=""></p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/f0007-image.jpg" id="img004" alt="" /> + </div> + <table summary="Byron quote"> + <tr> + <td> + There is a pleasure in the pathless wood,<br />There is a rapture on + the lonely shore. + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="right"> + <i>Byron</i>. + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p class="tp" style=""></p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0009-image.jpg" id="img005" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_9"></a>9</span><a id="link_1"></a>I<br /><span + class="h2fs">A RELIC FROM AFRICA</span> + </h2> + <p> + The <i>Maid of the North</i> was ready for sea. + </p> + <p> + Only the touch of the engineer was wanting to send her, once again, on a + homeward voyage to the St. Lawrence. Meanwhile, in solemn undertones, she + was breathing forth her superabundant steam. + </p> + <p> + Behind the wharf lay the city of Boston. + </p> + <p> + A score of passengers, together with friends who had come aboard to see + them off, were scattered about the little steamer. Among them, on the + after deck, indifferent to the hot June sun, moved a gentleman of + aristocratic mien. His raiment was above reproach. He gave the impression + of being a distinguished person. But this impression was delusive, his + distinction being merely social. He was too <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_10"></a>10</span>well provided for, too easily clever and in too + many ways, to achieve renown in any field requiring serious labor. + </p> + <p> + He inhaled the salt air as it came in from the sea, took out his watch, + scanned the wharf, picked a thread from his sleeve, and twirled, somewhat + carefully, the ends of a yellow moustache. His glance moved indifferently + over various passengers and things about him until it rested on a man, not + far away. The man was leaning against the railing of the deck watching the + scene upon the wharf below. + </p> + <p> + The extreme attenuation of this person had already rendered him an object + of interest to several passengers. His clothing hung loosely from his + shoulders. Both coat and vest were far too roomy for the body beneath, + while the trousers bore no relation to his legs. But the emaciated face, + deeply browned by exposure, told a story of hardship and starvation rather + than of ordinary sickness. Two thin, dark hands that rested on the ship’s + rail seemed almost transparent. + </p> + <p> + The aristocratic gentleman regarded this person with increasing interest. + He approached the railing himself and furtively studied the stranger’s + profile. Then, with an expression in <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_11"></a>11</span>his face less blasé than heretofore, he + approached the man and stood behind him. Laying a hand on one of the + shoulders to prevent his victim turning, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir, but could you tell me the name of this + town?” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence. Then the stranger answered, in a serious tone, + and with no effort to see his questioner: + </p> + <p> + “This is Boston, the city of respectability–and other + delights.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “It is also the home of a man who doesn’t seem to have matured + with the passing years.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who is that man?” + </p> + <p> + “A fellow that might have been a famous tenor if he had a voice–and + some idea of music.” + </p> + <p> + The other man laughed, removed his hand, and his friend turned about. Then + followed a greeting as between old intimates, long separated. And such was + the mutual pleasure that a neighboring spectator, many years embittered by + dyspepsia, so far forgot himself as to allow a smile of sympathy to occupy + his face. + </p> + <p> + The countenance of the attenuated person was unusual; not from any + peculiarity of feature, <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_12"></a>12</span>but + from its invincible cheerfulness. This cheerfulness was constitutional, + and contagious. His face seemed nearly ten years younger than it was; for + the unquenchable good-humor having settled there in infancy had thwarted + the hand of time. No signs of discouragement, of weariness or worry had + gained a footing. There were no visible traces of unwelcome experience. + While distinctly a thoughtful face, good-humor and a tranquil spirit were + the two things most clearly written. His eyes were gray–frank, + honest, mirthful, with little wrinkles at the corners when he smiled. + </p> + <p> + After many questions had been asked and answered, the more pretentious + gentleman laid a hand affectionately on the other’s arm, and said: + </p> + <p> + “But what has happened to you, Pats? How thin you are! You look like + a ghost–a mahogany ghost.” + </p> + <p> + “Fever. A splendid case of South African fever.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad! Are you well over it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, over the fever; but still tottery. My strength has not come + home yet. And the lead was a set back.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean bullets?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_13"></a>13</span>“Yes. I + caught two, but they are both out. I am getting along all right now.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have just reached America?” + </p> + <p> + “Landed in New York yesterday; got here this morning at half-past + seven, found my family were up on the St. Lawrence, and here I am. But + what are you doing on this boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I just came down to see somebody off.” + </p> + <p> + An excess of indifference in the manner of this reply did not escape the + friend from Africa. With a sidelong glance at his companion, he said, + “A man, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “How clever you are, Pats!” + </p> + <p> + “No need of being clever, Billy, when you advertise your secret by + blushing like a girl of fifteen.” + </p> + <p> + “Blush! I, blush! How old do you think I am? Ten?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes all of that. But if you didn’t actually blush, old man, + you did look foolish. And this explains a state-room full of flowers that + I noticed. Is that <i>her</i> bower?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who is she, Billy? You might as well tell me, for I shall be + sure to discover if she goes on this boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Elinor Marshall.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_14"></a>14</span>“Elinor + Marshall? Why, that name is familiar. Where have I heard it?” + </p> + <p> + “She is a friend of your sisters.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” + </p> + <p> + “And she is going to your place now, on a visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I’ll cut you out. Is she fond of bones?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. William Townsend did not answer, but he looked at his watch. “She + ought to be here now. The boat sails at ten-thirty, doesn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s ten, now. I shall trot you up as soon as she arrives.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. You will excuse my asking a cruel question, old man, but + you certainly did not send <i>all</i> the flowers in that cabin?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Then there are other–appreciators?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Patrick Boyd, with a slight gesture toward two carefully attired + gentlemen who were pacing the wharf, raised his eyebrows interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + His companion smiled. “Yes. She can also have either of them, and + without the asking.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_15"></a>15</span>The attenuated + man regarded the two gentlemen with interest. “That chap has a + familiar face.” + </p> + <p> + “Which? The one with the bouquet?” + </p> + <p> + “No; the one with the nose.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s Hamilton Goddard.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure! And I should know his friend was a lover. His anxious + glances up the wharf, and those flowers give him away. Such roses are for + no aunt or sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Better for him if they were!” + </p> + <p> + “Why? No chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is not for me to say. But he is one of those fearfully + earnest chaps, with a tragic soul, and a rebuff would be a dangerous thing + for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor devil!” + </p> + <p> + And the man of cheerful countenance slowly wagged his head, as he added, + in a sympathetic voice, “This being in love seems a painful + pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. William Townsend regarded his friend with half-shut eyes, and asked, + “Are you still the superior person who defies the–the malady?” + </p> + <p> + “Even so.” + </p> + <p> + “You never had it?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_16"></a>16</span>“Never.” + </p> + <p> + “How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it’s a lie.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the truth. Of course I have known very fine girls who + caused the usual thrills, whose conservatory kisses I should never + undervalue. But when it comes to the fatuous delirium–the celestial + idiocy that queers the brain and impairs the vision–why, I have been + unlucky, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a liar, Pats. Just a liar.” + </p> + <p> + “Mumps have been mine, and measles; and I have fooled with grape + juice, but that other drunkenness has been denied me.” + </p> + <p> + His companion’s grunt of incredulity was followed by the + exclamation: + </p> + <p> + “There she comes!” + </p> + <p> + The two men below had halted, wheeled about, and were watching an + approaching carriage. Down the wharf with this equipage came an atmosphere + of solidity and opulence, of luxury and perfect taste. On the box, in + quiet livery, sat a driver and a footman. The driver, from his bearing and + appearance, could easily have passed for the president of a college. As + the carriage halted before the gang plank, <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_17"></a>17</span>the gentleman with the nose stepped forward and + opened the door, while he of the roses stood by with a radiant visage, his + hat in one hand, his offering in the other. + </p> + <p> + First, emerged an elderly gentleman, tall, slender, and acutely + respectable. After him, a girl descended, also tall and slender. She was + followed by a maid, and a Catholic priest. As the young lady stood for a + moment conversing with the two admirers, her glance, in running over the + little steamer, encountered Mr. Townsend, and she nodded pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Lovely! Enchanting!” murmured the man from Africa. + </p> + <p> + “Of course she is! Come down, and I’ll present you.” + </p> + <p> + “But, first, tell me something about her. What are the interesting + facts?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there’s nothing to tell–that I can think of.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course there is! There must be! Women like that don’t + bloom in every garden. What a patrician type! And all that black hair! She + is unusual.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she <i>is</i> unusual, Pats. She is a splendid girl,–an + orphan; and she is giving her fortune all away.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_18"></a>18</span>“The + devil! And to whom?” + </p> + <p> + “To philanthropy; to societies for the advancement of woman; to + hospitals and other bottomless pits. But above all to the Catholic Church.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad! She doesn’t look so unintelligent.” + </p> + <p> + “No: and she is not. Her mother and sister, all that remained of her + family, were both drowned in the same accident, and the shock upset her + for a time.” + </p> + <p> + “And it was then the Church got in its work? That explains the Holy + Roman Cherub who seems to be along.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that’s Father Burke. He is a part of the comedy.” + </p> + <p> + “Comedy! It’s a blood-curdling drama! Hasn’t she a + brother or some relative to reach out a hand and save her?” + </p> + <p> + “She doesn’t care to be saved. She is one of those women with + a conscience. A big one: the sort that becomes a disease unless taken in + time.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. She feels guilty if she’s happy. But she doesn’t + look all that. She seems a trifle earnest, perhaps, but very human, and + with real blood in her veins.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_19"></a>19</span>Mr. Townsend + sighed–a long, deep sigh that seemed to come from below his waist. + “Yes, she was mighty good company and rather jolly before the + vultures closed in on her.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she really in the coils of the anaconda?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid so. She won’t talk about it herself,–at + least, not with Protestants,–but some of her friends say she thinks + of going into a convent.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Patrick Boyd, with a sudden warmth, as they + turned to go below, “all I can say is, that the institution, sacred + or secular, that tries to lure such a girl into a convent ought to be + hustled into space.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen to that!” + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0020-image.jpg" id="img006" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_20"></a>20</span><a id="link_2"></a>II<br /><span + class="h2fs">FROTH OF THE SEA</span> + </h2> + <p> + An hour later, as the <i>Maid of the North</i> was steaming for the open + sea, the man from Africa and his new acquaintance formed a group on the + after deck. + </p> + <p> + The day was a rare one, even for early June. Across the surface of the + water–now a sparkling, joyful blue–the air came free and full + of life. This air was exhilarating. It inspired Father Burke to tell a + funny anecdote, and he did it well. For not only did Father Burke possess + a sense of humor, but his heavy, benevolent face, white hair, and deep + voice gave unusual impressiveness to whatever he chose to utter. Even Mr. + Appleton Marshall, a victim of acute Bostonia, eluded for a time his own + self-consciousness. He soon went below, however, to revel, undisturbed, in + a conservative <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_21"></a>21</span>local + paper. Mr. Patrick Boyd,–or Pats, as we may as well call him,–being + always of a buoyant spirit, added liberally to the general cheer. + </p> + <p> + The young lady regarded this addition to her party with a peculiar + interest. She knew that the mention of his name in his own family was for + years a thing forbidden. Just how bad he was, or how innocent, she had + never learned. And now, as she studied, furtively, this exile of uncertain + reputation, and as she recognized the open nature, the fortitude, the + tranquil spirit, all unmistakably written in his emaciated, sunburnt face, + her curiosity was quickened. She knew that Sally, his elder sister,–her + own intimate friend,–had persisted in a correspondence with her + brother against her father’s wishes. And that, perhaps, was in his + favor. At least, he had a good mouth and honest eyes. His neck, his hands, + and his legs were preternaturally thin, and she wondered if the gap + between his collar and his throat told a truthful story of South African + fever. If so, the change had been appalling. However, neither bullets nor + fever had reduced his spirits. + </p> + <p> + The conversation touched on many things. When she happened to say that + this was her <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_22"></a>22</span>first + visit to the Boyds’ Canadian house, he replied: + </p> + <p> + “And mine too.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never seen it?” she asked in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Never. My father bought this place about ten years ago, and I have + been away over thirteen years.” + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten you had been away so long.” + </p> + <p> + With a smile and a slight inclination of his head, he replied: + </p> + <p> + “That you should know of my existence is a flattering surprise. Any + mention of my name, I understand, was a state’s prison offence until + my father died.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite so bad as that.” + </p> + <p> + “A man’s fame is not apt to flourish when corked up in a + bottle and laid away in a closet, with ‘Poison’ on the label.” + </p> + <p> + Here was a chance to gratify a natural curiosity, and he seemed willing to + throw light on the mystery. She was about to offer the necessary + encouragement, when Father Burke took the conversation into less personal + fields. It may have been the contagion of this young man’s + cheerfulness, or the reaction on the lady’s <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_23"></a>23</span>part from an acute + religious tension, but the priest had noticed Miss Marshall was awakening + to a livelier enjoyment of her surroundings. The spontaneity and freedom + of her laughter, on one or two occasions, had caused him a certain + uneasiness. Not that Father Burke was averse to merriment. Too much of it, + however, for this particular maiden and at this critical period, might + cause a divergence from the Holy Roman path along which he now was + escorting her. So he gave some interesting facts concerning this summer + residence of the Boyds, winding up with the information that the hunting + and fishing, all about there, were unusual. + </p> + <p> + “But we women cannot hunt and fish all day!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it’s like Heaven,” said Pats, “where + there’s nothing to do except to realize what a good time you are + having.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope that is not your idea of a woman’s ambition.” + </p> + <p> + “What better business on a summer’s day?” + </p> + <p> + “Many things,” replied the priest, “if she has a soul to + expand and a mind to cultivate.” + </p> + <p> + “But I was speaking of the natural, unvarnished woman we all enjoy + and are not afraid of.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_24"></a>24</span>Miss Marshall, + in a politely contemptuous manner, inquired, “Then, personally, you + find the intelligent woman of high ideals less congenial than–the + other kind?” + </p> + <p> + “I find the superior woman with a gift of language is a thing that + makes brave men tremble. I think wisdom should be tempered with mercy.” + </p> + <p> + After a pause, and with a touch of sarcasm, she replied: + </p> + <p> + “That is quite interesting. A fresh point of view always broadens + the horizon.” + </p> + <p> + Ignoring her tone, he answered in an off-hand, amiable way: + </p> + <p> + “Of course there is no reason why a woman should not enter politics + or anything else, if she wishes. And there is no reason why a rose should + not aspire to be a useful potato. But potatoes will always be cheaper than + roses.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled wearily and leaned back. As their eyes met he detected a look + of disappointment–perhaps at her discovery of yet one more man like + all the others, earthy and superficial. But she merely said, and in a + gentle tone: + </p> + <p> + “You forget that while all men are wise, all women are not + beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + With a deep sigh he replied, “The profundity <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_25"></a>25</span>of your contempt I + can only guess at. Whatever it is, I share it. We are a poor lot. + </p> + <div class="poetry"> + <p> + ‘At thirty, man suspects himself a fool;<br /> Knows + it at forty, and reforms his plan.’ + </p> + </div> + <p> + Which is all true except the last line.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. “You are too severe. I consider man the highest form of + animal life–after the dog and the elephant.” + </p> + <p> + “Then where does woman come in?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh–as man’s satellite she is hard to place. Her proper + position might be anywhere between the peacock and the parrot.” + </p> + <p> + Pats shook his head, slowly and sadly. “That’s an awful + utterance!” + </p> + <p> + “But it enables you to realize her vanity in aspiring to the wisdom + of man.” + </p> + <p> + Father Burke laughed. “Fighting the Boer, Captain Boyd, is a + different thing from skirmishing with the American girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it is! For on the battle-field there is always one chance of + victory. But I have not been fighting the Boers. I was trying to help the + Boers against the English.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, good!” said the priest. “You were on the right + side.” + </p> + <p> + But the lady shook her head. “I don’t know <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_26"></a>26</span>about that. I should + have joined the English and fought against the Boers.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear child,” exclaimed Father Burke, “the cause + of the Boers is so manifestly the cause of right and justice! They were + fighting for their freedom,–the very existence of their country.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly, but the English officers are very handsome, and so + stylish! And the Boers are common creatures–mostly farmers.” + </p> + <p> + Pats regarded her in surprise. “That doesn’t affect the + principle of the thing. Even a farmer has rights.” + </p> + <p> + “Principles are so tiresome!” and she looked away, as if the + subject wearied her. + </p> + <p> + “Does it make no difference with your sympathies,” he asked + with some earnestness, “whether a man is in the right or in the + wrong? Would you have had no sympathy for the Greeks at Marathon?” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyebrows, and with a faint shrug replied, “I am sure + I don’t know. Was that an important battle?” + </p> + <p> + “Very.” + </p> + <p> + “In South Africa?” + </p> + <p> + Pats thought, at first, this question was in jest. She looked him serenely + in the face, however, <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_27"></a>27</span>and + he saw nothing in her eyes but the expectation of a serious answer to a + simple question. Before he was ready with a reply, she inquired: + </p> + <p> + “Were you at that battle?” + </p> + <p> + He was so bewildered by this question, and from such a woman, that for a + moment he could not respond. Father Burke, however, in his calm, paternal + voice, gave the required facts. + </p> + <p> + “The battle of Marathon was fought about twenty miles from Athens + between the Greeks and invading Persians nearly five hundred years before + Christ.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, to be sure!” she murmured, indifferently, her eyes + looking over the sea. + </p> + <p> + Pats, who was sitting in front of his two companions, regarded her in + surprise. As she finished speaking, he turned away his head, but still + watching her from the corners of his eyes. Her own glance, with an amused + expression, went at once to his face, as he anticipated. He laughed aloud + in a frank, boyish way as their eyes met. “I knew you had some + sinister motive in that speech. You almost fooled me.” + </p> + <p> + And she smiled as she retorted, “I was merely trying to please you. + You say you are averse to intelligence in a woman.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_28"></a>28</span>“Well, I + take it all back. I am averse to nothing in a woman, except absence.” + </p> + <p> + Father Burke took all this in, and he disapproved. Captain Boyd was by no + means the sort of man he would have selected for companion to this maiden. + The young man’s appreciation of the lady herself was too honest and + too evident. It bore, to the observant priest, suspicious resemblance to a + tender passion unskilfully concealed. Perilous food for a yearning spirit! + Of course she was heavenly minded, and spiritual to the last degree, at + present; but she was mortal. And the soul of a girl like Elinor Marshall + was too precious an object to be thrown away on a single individual–above + all, on a Protestant. Was it not already the property of The Church? And + then, there was little consolation in the knowledge that she was to be in + constant intercourse with this man for a week, and during that time beyond + all priestly influence. + </p> + <hr class="tb" /> + <p> + The <i>Maid of the North</i>, until she passed Deer Island, bore a + cheerful band of passengers. Then, in the open sea, she turned her nose a + little more to the north, and while riding the waves as merrily as ever, + she did it with a <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_29"></a>29</span>greater + variety of motion. And this variety of motion, a complex, unhallowed + shifting of the deck, first sidewise down, then lengthwise up, then all + together and further down–with a nauseating quiver–was + emphasized by zephyrs from the engine-room and kitchen–zephyrs + redolent with oil and cooking and bilge water. All these, in time, began + to trifle with the interiors of certain passengers, and to paralyze their + mirth. + </p> + <p> + Among early victims was Mr. Appleton Marshall. After storing his mind with + the financial news and social gossip of the morning paper, he had rejoined + his friends. Sitting beside his niece, he participated, at intervals, in + the conversation, his manner becoming more and more distant until, at + last, it vanished altogether. To all who cared to see, it was plain that + this stately and usually complacent gentleman was losing interest in + external matters. + </p> + <p> + He seemed annoyed when a steward, about one o’clock, appeared on + deck and rang a bell, announcing dinner. At this summons Patrick Boyd took + out his watch and was obviously astonished at the flight of time. + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten my friend,” he exclaimed, and he hurried + below. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_30"></a>30</span>At the + dinner-table Elinor Marshall sat between her confessor and her uncle, the + latter clinging bravely to his post through the soup and fish. Then, after + watching for a moment the various viands as they rose and fell with the + heaving of the ship, accompanied, as it seemed to him, by a similar rising + and sinking of his own digestive apparatus, he remarked, with some + severity, that he felt no hunger. And he left the table with dignity, yet + with a certain expedition. As the uncle disappeared, Patrick Boyd came in + and took a seat opposite the lady and the priest. + </p> + <p> + “How did you find your friend?” Father Burke inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Discouraged.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow! Nothing serious, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “No. But he doesn’t quite understand this starting right off + again on another voyage.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he–er–is his mind affected?” + </p> + <p> + This question appeared to surprise Captain Boyd. “No. But they have + fastened him to a windlass, near the engine-room, and he resents it.” + </p> + <p> + This reply merely intensified the curiosity of the questioner. + </p> + <p> + “Did you say they have fastened him?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_31"></a>31</span>“Yes. It + seems to be a rule of the boat.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady also opened her eyes. After a pause, she inquired, in a low + voice, “Is he dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed! Not at all!” + </p> + <p> + “Then why tie him?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a rule of the boat, as I said.” + </p> + <p> + “A rule of the boat to tie passengers?” + </p> + <p> + At this question Pats smiled, for a light broke in upon him. “My + friend is a dog. I thought I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “A dog!” and she seemed to find diversion in the seriousness + with which Father Burke accepted the explanation. “I love dogs. Why + shouldn’t I go down and see him?” + </p> + <p> + “The honor would be appreciated.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go after dinner. What sort of a dog is he?” + </p> + <p> + “A setter.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is his name?” + </p> + <p> + Pats hesitated. “Do you really wish to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, his full name is Jan Bartholomeus Van Vlotens Couwenhorn Van + der Helst Poffenburgh.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is Dutch.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_32"></a>32</span>“Yes. He + was the property of four officers, and each owner bestowed a portion of + his name.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you call him for short?” + </p> + <p> + “Solomon.” + </p> + <p> + “Solomon!” + </p> + <p> + “At first we called him Jan, but the other three sponsors objected. + They said it was favoritism. So we all agreed on Solomon for every day + use.” + </p> + <p> + “And he never resented it?” + </p> + <p> + “No. He understood it as a tribute to his extraordinary wisdom.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed amused. “Is he so very remarkable?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Pats, laying down his knife and fork, and giving + his whole attention to the subject, “as to general intelligence, + foresight, logic, and a knowledge of human nature, he is a wonder, even + for a dog. And when it comes to dignity and tact, ease of manner and + freedom from personal vanity, why–the other Solomon was a beginner.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded and smiled approval. “I know something of dogs and men, + and I can easily believe it. Certain men exist, however, who are mentally + superior to dogs. But it’s the <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_33"></a>33</span>moral gulf between the two species that is so + disheartening.” + </p> + <p> + “All owing to the fatal power of speech.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it. If dogs could talk, they would abuse the power, as + humans do, and soon descend to the human level. They would lose the + dignity that silence alone bestows, and become bores–like the rest + of us.” With a deferential movement of his head toward the priest, + he added, “Except as they apply to myself, these remarks are in no + way personal.” + </p> + <p> + As Father Burke, with a perfunctory smile, bowed acknowledgment, the girl + at his side inquired, with a serious face, “Well, what can be done?” + </p> + <p> + Pats, with equal seriousness, replied, “How would it do to establish + an institute for the propagation of silence?” + </p> + <p> + “The millennium would be in sight!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “And instead of rhetoric and declamation teach economy in words; + show the pupils by illustration and example how much better they look when + their mouths are not open.” + </p> + <p> + “A very sensible idea! And award medals to those who attain the + highest flights of silence.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_34"></a>34</span>“The very + thought is restful,” said Pats. “And would you mind if I + offered Solomon a professorship?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all! It would look rather well in the catalogue, ‘Solomon + Boyd, Instructor in Moral Philosophy and Deportment.’” + </p> + <p> + With a glance at the mirthless face of the reverend gentleman beside her, + she added, “And on the dome of the college shall be a colossal + statue of Father Burke, in solid gold. He has not uttered a word in half + an hour.” + </p> + <p> + The priest answered pleasantly, but the tone of the conversation had given + him little pleasure. Folly was in the air, and Elinor Marshall, to his + surprise, seemed in harmony with it. Heretofore he had known her as a + thoughtful, serious-minded woman, with a leaning to melancholy; and this + unexpected and evidently enjoyable flight–or plunge–into pure + nonsense, caused him a distinct uneasiness. The girl was brightening up, + even becoming merry; a state of mind that never leads to a nunnery. + </p> + <p> + In this conversation, which ran on with rare intervals of seriousness + until the meal was ended, Father Burke took no part. And when the younger + people had gone below for their interview with Solomon, he decided, after + long reflection, <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_35"></a>35</span>that + considering the gravity of the case his obvious duty was to drop a word in + the lady’s ear concerning this new acquaintance. The rest of the + Boyds–the two sisters–were good Catholics, and from them there + was nothing to fear. But if he, Father Burke, could counteract the + influence of this interesting heretic, it would be a pious work. He must + find his opportunity for an earnest conversation, and before she landed. + </p> + <p> + The more he meditated, the more anxious he became. But Fate, the practical + joker,–the fickle, the ruthless, the forever mocking,–was only + waiting to lay his enemy at his feet. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0036-image.jpg" id="img007" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_36"></a>36</span><a id="link_3"></a>III<br /><span + class="h2fs">A FOOL AT THIRTY</span> + </h2> + <p> + Toward the end of that day it became evident, in the west, that + preparations were going on for an American sunset. Preliminary colors, + chiefly gold and crimson, crept swiftly across the sky. These colors, more + dazzling as the sun approached the water, were caught and tossed about + upon the surface of the sea until all the universe seemed ablaze. + </p> + <p> + Of this gorgeous spectacle Elinor Marshall, in a sheltered corner of the + deck, was an appreciative witness. + </p> + <p> + Pats, in his mercy, had decided to allow the lady a respite from his + society, at least during a portion of the afternoon. The lady, however, + was so much more interesting than anything else aboard that he finally + ignored his better judgment. <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_37"></a>37</span>And + now, leaning against the rail in front of her, he found the sunset duller, + more monotonous and commonplace than the human combination in the + steamer-chair. She, however, her head thrown back, with half-closed eyes, + seemed fascinated by the glories in the west, and almost unconscious of + his presence. As too much staring might cause annoyance, he did most of it + on the sly. And the opportunity was good. As a mystery, she proved an + absorbing study: an irresistible blending of contradictions, of sympathy + and reserve, of sadness–and of wit–of a character and + temperament not half-divulged. Whenever their eyes met, he felt a mild + commotion, a curious, unfamiliar excitement,–something that made him + less at ease. For it invariably brought the keenest anxiety as to her good + opinion. He also experienced a consciousness of guilt; why, he knew not, + unless from the expression of her eyes. They seemed to be reading his + thoughts, and to be a trifle saddened by the result. That, in itself, was + disconcerting. + </p> + <p> + He began to see why those other fellows were in love with her. Although + fireproof himself, he understood, now that he knew her better, the nature + of the conflagration that devoured the men in Boston. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_38"></a>38</span>In her + sensitive face, in her reserve, and in her sometimes melancholy air, he + saw traces of inward struggles between a passionate, impulsive, + pleasure-loving nature and standards of virtue unattainably high. And when + he remembered that she was doomed to the seclusion of a convent, that this + life, with every promise of being exceptionally rich and full, was to be + crushed, deadened and forever lost to the outer human world, his + resentment became difficult to suppress. He wondered, in a hot, disjointed + way, if there was no possibility of a rescue. + </p> + <p> + Awakening from a revery, she caught him in the act, regarding her with + earnest eyes, and with a frown. He also came back to earth–or to the + boat–suddenly, and he observed a slight movement of her eyebrows as + in surprise or disapproval. With a guilty air, he looked away, and she + wondered if the warmer color in his mahogany cheeks came entirely from the + sunset. After an awkward silence, he said. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon for staring at you. You are so very + contradictory, and in so many ways, that I took the liberty of guessing at + your real character; whether after all you are unpleasantly perfect, or + whether it is merely your luck to possess an awe-inspiring exterior.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_39"></a>39</span>She was unable + to repress a laugh. “And what have you decided?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not decided; that is, not finally. I keep arriving at new + conclusions. My first impression was that you were a person of frigid + altitudes,–severe, exacting, and abnormally superior. Then, later, I + have thought you warm-hearted–even impulsive: that your indifference + is not always real. But of that, I am not sure. Still, I believe you + possess a lower and a better nature.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have made wonderful discoveries in a very few hours.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been working hard.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope the verdict is favorable.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes–in a way.” + </p> + <p> + “So bad as that!” + </p> + <p> + “No, not bad at all. It is merely that you have bullied your natural + character. You have made it toe the mark and behave itself. Never given it + any vacations, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + She regarded him intently, as if in doubt as to his meaning. + </p> + <p> + “But you don’t know the cause,” he added. + </p> + <p> + She made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “The cause,” he said, “is the expression of your face.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_40"></a>40</span>“Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It is impossible for any being of earthly origin to possess + the celestial qualities promised in your countenance. It is out of harmony + with terrestrial things. Why, when those three men put out their hands + this morning for you to touch, I held my breath at their presumption. I + looked for three bolts from heaven to wither the extended arms.” + </p> + <p> + “And your own face, Mr. Boyd, gives no indication of the subtleness + of your irony: unkind, perhaps, but extremely clever.” + </p> + <p> + “Irony! Never! I had no such thought! I am merely announcing the + discovery that with a different exterior you would have been less perfect; + but more comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “If this is not irony, it is something still more offensive. I gave + you credit for a finer touch.” + </p> + <p> + “I may be clumsy, but not malicious.” + </p> + <p> + “Then explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, having a tender conscience, you have felt a sense of + fraud whenever confronted by your own reflection. Being human, you have + had, presumably, ambitions, envies, appetites, prejudices, vanities, and + other human ills of which the face before you gave no indication. <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_41"></a>41</span>And so, feeling the + preternatural excellence of that face a lie, you have tried to live up to + it; that is, to avoid being a humbug. In short, your life has been a + strenuous endeavor to be unnecessarily wise and impossibly good.” + </p> + <p> + As their side of the steamer rose high above the sea, after an unusual + plunge, he added: “And I am afraid you have succeeded.” + </p> + <p> + She remained silent, lost apparently in another revery, watching the + changes in the west. + </p> + <p> + The light was fading. On sea and sky a more melancholy tone had come,–dull, + slaty grays crowding in from every quarter. And over the darkening waters + there seemed a tragic note, half-threatening, intensified by every plunge + of the steamer and by the swish of waters very near the deck. There was a + touch of melancholy, also, in the steady thumping of the engines. + </p> + <p> + She said at last, pleasantly, but in a serious tone: + </p> + <p> + “I have been reflecting on your discourse. If ironical, it was + unkind. If sincere, it was–not impertinent perhaps, but certainly + not justified by our short acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “True: and I beg your pardon. But was it correct?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_42"></a>42</span>“I hope + not.” + </p> + <p> + Something in her manner invited a discontinuance of that particular topic. + He drew an attenuated hand across his mouth, changed his position, as if + on the point of saying more; but he held his peace. + </p> + <p> + Some minutes later, when Miss Marshall’s maid approached this silent + couple, her progress, owing to the movement of the deck, consisted of + rapid little runs followed by sudden pauses, during which she hung with + one hand to the rail and with the other clutched her hat. She had come up + to ask if her mistress needed anything. Was she warm enough? Would she + have another wrap? Miss Marshall needed nothing herself, but asked for + news of Mr. Appleton Marshall, and if Father Burke was feeling better. + Louise had seen nothing of Mr. Marshall since dinner, but she had left + Father Burke reclining in the main saloon, not very sick, nor very well, + but lower in his mind. As her maid departed, the lady expressed sympathy + for the suffering uncle. “And poor Father Burke! He is terribly + uncomfortable, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Pats. “I saw in his face a look of + uncertainty: the wavering faith that comes from meals with an upward + tendency.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_43"></a>43</span>Pats thought + this want of sympathy was resented. + </p> + <p> + “He is a most lovable man,” she said, “of fine + character, and with a splendid mind. You would like him if you knew him + better.” + </p> + <p> + Here was his opportunity; his chance for a rescue. He would snatch her + from the clutches of the Romish Brute. A few stabs in the monster’s + vitals might accomplish wonders. So he answered, sadly, in a tone of + brotherly affection: + </p> + <p> + “I like him now. That is why I regret that he should devote himself + to such a questionable enterprise.” + </p> + <p> + “What enterprise?” + </p> + <p> + “His Church.” + </p> + <p> + With a forced calmness she replied, “This is the only time I ever + heard the first religion of Christendom called a ‘questionable + enterprise.’” + </p> + <p> + “Leo X. spoke of it as a ‘profitable fable.’ Perhaps + that was better.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Leo X. say that of the Catholic Church?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you have too high an opinion of Leo?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_44"></a>44</span>“No; but + he was a Pope of Rome, and I simply cannot believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “Some popes of Rome have been awful examples for the young.” + </p> + <p> + “So have men in all positions.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled and shook his head. “Yes, but when they set up as Christ’s + apostles, they really should not indulge too freely in assassination and + torture: at least, not out of business hours.” + </p> + <p> + Then in a reflective, somewhat sorrowful manner, he continued, “But + the Roman Enterprise has two enemies that are thorns in the flesh, the + bath-tub and the printing-press. Wherever they march in, she marches out. + The three can’t live together.” + </p> + <p> + Of this statement there was no recognition, except a straightening up in + the steamer-chair. + </p> + <p> + He continued pleasantly, “In England, Germany, and America, for + instance, where these adversaries are in vogue, Catholicism quits. As the + devil shrinks from the sign of the Cross, so does the Holy Enterprise + gather up its bloody skirts and decamp.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you forget that in the United States alone there are more + than seven million Catholics.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_45"></a>45</span>“But they + are not victims of the bath-tub habit.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not true! There are thousands of exceptions!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed–an amiable, jolly, yet triumphant laugh–as he + retorted, “You admit the truth of it when you call them exceptions.” + </p> + <p> + In the dim light which had gathered over everything, he could see the + delicate eyebrows drawing together in a frown. But he went on, cheerfully, + as if giving offence had not occurred to him, “Now Spain is + enthusiastically Catholic. And for ignorance,–solid, comprehensive, + reliable ignorance,–there is nothing like it in the solar system. + You can’t hurt it with a hammer. It defies competition. If a + Spaniard were to meet a bath-tub on a lonely highway, he would cross + himself and run.” + </p> + <p> + “Their ignorance is their own fault. Education and progress have + always been encouraged by the Catholic Church.” + </p> + <p> + “Encouraged? Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean by the stake and boiling lead?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “When, for example, she notified Galileo that she would roast him + alive, as she had already <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_46"></a>46</span>roasted + Bruno, if he persisted in his heresy that the earth was round instead of + flat?” + </p> + <p> + “If you are happy in that belief, I will not destroy it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a historic fact, but I am no happier for believing it. + However, too much education is a nuisance, and very likely Mamma Church + was wise in toasting an astronomer now and then.” + </p> + <p> + “Your conclusions are rather entertaining. I am a Catholic myself, + and my own reading has brought opinions that are quite different.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke calmly, but he detected a less friendly tone. In a joking, + incredulous manner he replied, “Well, then, I am a Catholic, too.” + </p> + <p> + “I am serious. My faith to me is a sacred thing. It has brought me a + more tranquil spirit, a deeper knowledge, and a fuller conception of what + I owe to others–and to myself.” + </p> + <p> + She was very much in earnest. + </p> + <p> + “Then I beg your pardon,” he said, “for speaking as I + did.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to smile. “It is more my fault than yours. Religious + discussions never do any good.” + </p> + <p> + Then she arose from her chair, and he knew from the exceeding dignity of + her manner that <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_47"></a>47</span>his + offence was serious. But this dignity met with cruel reverses. As she + stood up, their side of the steamer was just starting on a downward lurch,–one + of those long, deep, quivering plunges, apparently for the bottom of the + sea, slow at first, but gaining in rapidity. And Elinor Marshall, instead + of turning away with frigid ceremony, as she intended, first stood + irresolute, as if taken unawares,–yet suspecting danger,–then + tiptoed forward and rushed impetuously into the gentleman’s arms. + These arms were forced to encircle the sudden arrival, otherwise both man + and woman would have tumbled to the deck. Then, she pushed him hard + against the rail. But even that was not the end. For there she held him, + to her shame, pressing against him with the whole weight of her body. And + this lasted, it seemed to her, an hour–a year–a lifetime of + mortification and of helpless rage; the wind all the time screaming louder + and louder with a brutish glee. + </p> + <p> + Her choking exclamations of chagrin were close to his ears, and he felt + her hair against his face. But he was powerless to aid in her struggles to + regain the lost equilibrium. However good his wishes, he could do nothing + but <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_48"></a>48</span>stand as a + cushion–poorly upholstered at that–between herself and the + rail. + </p> + <p> + Finally, at the end of time, when the deck came up again, she backed away + with flaming cheeks. Pats apologized; so did she. He wished to assist her + to the cabin stairs, but the offer was ignored, and she left him. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0049-image.jpg" id="img008" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_49"></a>49</span><a id="link_4"></a>IV<br /><span + class="h2fs">NORTHWARD</span> + </h2> + <p> + Not since her change of faith–never in fact–had Elinor + Marshall listened to such open abuse of a sacred institution. And the + memory of it kept her wide awake during a portion of the night. + </p> + <p> + Although she had decided to ignore that argument of the printing-press and + bath-tub, it wormed itself into the inner chambers of her brain; and it + refused to make way for better thoughts. As the possessor of a depositic + conscience she suffered the miseries of guilt. For despite all reasoning + of her own, she began to feel that unless those arguments were refuted, + her faith might suffer: and, with her, an untarnished faith was vital. + </p> + <p> + The motion of her berth, the rhythmic pounding of the engines, the muffled + sound, at intervals, of feet upon the deck, all were soothing; <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_50"></a>50</span>but the remembrance + of that discussion, with its mortifying climax, made sleep impossible. + This childish sensitiveness she fully realized,–and despised,–but + nerves achieved an easy victory over reason. + </p> + <p> + She was glad when daylight came. Long before the breakfast hour she left + her state-room and sought the deck for fresh air, and for Father Burke. + He, also an early riser, was discovered in the lee of the upper cabins, + his little prayer-book in his hand. Sitting close beside him she gave, in + detail, the story of her conversation with Mr. Boyd. It was in the nature + of a confession, but delivered in the hope and in the faith of the enemy’s + discomfiture. She felt, of course, that the statements concerning the + press and tub were false and foolish, and she knew that Father Burke could + tell her why. + </p> + <p> + Her confidence was not misplaced. This was not the first time Father Burke + had been called upon to stiffen the faith of wavering converts. + Considerable experience and a perfect familiarity with the subject + rendered the task an easy one. The tones of Father Burke’s voice + were, in themselves, almost sufficient for the purpose. Deep, calm, + mellow, ravishingly sympathetic, they played like celestial zephyrs upon + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_51"></a>51</span>the chords of + the maiden’s heart. They filled the inmost recesses of her soul with + security and peace. His arguments were the old, familiar things, + considerably damaged by Protestants and other heretics; but he knew his + audience. And when the spell had worked, when the wings beside him ceased + to flutter, he drove the final bolt. + </p> + <p> + “You know, my child, that the value of a statement depends largely + upon the character of him who utters it. I have no desire to injure this + young man, nor to prejudice you in any way against him. But it is clearly + my duty to warn you that he is not a person with whom it would be safe for + you to permit a very close acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “You need have no anxiety on that point.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell me what you know about him, Father Burke. His family never + mentions his name, and I supposed there was something to conceal. Was it + anything very bad?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, bad enough. He is a wilful man, of a perverse and violent + temper. His utterances of yesterday are in perfect accord with the spirit + he displayed in youth. He broke his father’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_52"></a>52</span>“From his + face one would never suspect that part of it–the violent temper. He + appears to be a person of unusual cheerfulness and serenity,–most <i>offensively</i> + serene at times.” + </p> + <p> + “Very possible, my child. One of the hardest things to learn, and we + seldom achieve it in youth, is that outward appearances often bear no + relation to the inner man,–that the most inviting face can hide a + vicious nature.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really think him a bad man? I mean thoroughly unprincipled + and wicked? I don’t like him, but somehow it doesn’t seem as + if he could be utterly bad, with such a face.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my daughter, be on your guard against those very things! Heed + the voice of experience. Remember his career.” + </p> + <p> + “But what especial thing did he do? What drove him away from home?” + </p> + <p> + “In a fit of temper he tried to kill his father.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” + </p> + <p> + “As an old friend of the family, I knew the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Awful! How did it happen?” + </p> + <p> + “They were in the garden in an arbor, engaged in a controversy. In + his anger he struck the old gentleman and knocked him <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_53"></a>53</span>down, and would have + killed him had not others interfered.” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed, not broken by Father Burke. He desired his listener to + realize the iniquity of the deed. + </p> + <p> + At last she inquired half timidly: + </p> + <p> + “And there was no provocation?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever.” + </p> + <p> + After another pause she said, reflectively: + </p> + <p> + “The father had a temper too, I fancy, from what I know of him.” + </p> + <p> + Toward the face beside him the priest cast a sidelong look, which was + detected. + </p> + <p> + “I am not defending the son,” she said hastily. “Heaven + forbid! I almost hate him. But you must admit that the father was not an + especially lovable character, nor very gentle in his ways.” + </p> + <p> + “He had his faults, like the rest of us; but he was a rare man,–a + religious man of deep convictions, and the soul of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose so, but I was always afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + Father Burke laid his hand on her arm and said, very gently but with + unusual seriousness: + </p> + <p> + “I should regret exceedingly, my child, to have you listen to the + flippant sacrilege of this <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_54"></a>54</span>young + man, or be subjected to his influence in any way.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no cause for alarm. I shall have as little to do with him + as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “An excellent resolve. And now, will you grant me a request?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to exact a promise. I only suggest that while on + this boat you avoid, as far as possible, his companionship.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise.” + </p> + <p> + They both arose. His voice and manner were always impressive, even in + ordinary conversation. But now a moisture gathered in the maiden’s + eyes as he gazed benignly into her face, and murmured in tones tremulous + with feeling: + </p> + <p> + “May Heaven bless you, my daughter, for your noble spirit, and for + your unswerving devotion to a holy cause.” + </p> + <p> + Then they went below to breakfast. + </p> + <p> + The girl was hungry; Father Burke was not. The undulations of the boat so + tempered his appetite that food had lost its charm. A cup of tea and a + bite of toast were the limits of his endeavor. Even these descended under + protest and threatened to return. When the heretic–the <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_55"></a>55</span>victim of the plot–appeared + soon after and took his seat at the table, he noticed that the greetings + he received, while friendly and all that etiquette required, were less + cordial than on the day before. + </p> + <p> + And this was emphasized later, when he joined Miss Marshall on the deck. + After a moment’s conversation, she spoke of letters to be written, + and went below. + </p> + <p> + And once again, to make sure that this disgrace was no fancy of his own, + he approached her as she sat reading, or at least, with a book in her + hand. In his best and most easy manner, he inquired: + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of the Magdalen Islands, Miss Marshall?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up, and nodded pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we are passing them now.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “They are off there to the westward, between twenty and thirty miles + away, but out of sight, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Amiably she inclined her head in recognition of the news, but made no + reply. + </p> + <p> + It began to be awkward for Pats. But he resolved to suppress any outward + manifestations of that state. This task was all the harder, as <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_56"></a>56</span>his legs embarrassed + him. He knew them to be thin,–of a thinness that was startling and + unprecedented,–and now, as he confronted the northeast wind, their + shrunken and ridiculous outlines were cruelly exposed. He was sensitive + about these members, and he thought she had glanced furtively in their + direction. However, with his usual buoyancy he continued: + </p> + <p> + “And now we leave land behind us until we reach the northern shore + of the Gulf.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + Although she gazed pensively over the water, and with conspicuous + amiability, something seemed to suggest that the present conversation had + reached a natural end. So the skeleton moved away. + </p> + <p> + With Pats a hint was enough. During the remainder of the voyage, at meals, + and the few occasions on which he met the lady, he also was genial and + outwardly undisturbed; but he took every care that she should be subjected + to no annoyance from his companionship. This outward calmness, however, + bore no resemblance to his inward tribulation. Such was his desire for her + good opinion that this sudden plunge from favor to disgrace–or at + least, to a frigid toleration–brought a keen distress. Moreover, he + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_57"></a>57</span>was mortified + at having allowed himself, under any pretext, to jeer at her religion. + </p> + <p> + “Ass, ass! Impossible ass!” he muttered a dozen times that + day. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the <i>Maid of the North</i> was driving steadily along, always + to the north and east. On the morning of the second day her passengers had + caught glimpses, to the larboard, of the shores of Nova Scotia. Later they + rounded Cape Breton, and then, against a howling wind and a choppy sea, + headed north into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The <i>Maid of the North</i> + was a sturdy boat, and though she pitched and tossed in a way that + disarranged the mechanism of her passengers, she did nothing to destroy + their confidence. + </p> + <p> + It was the evening of this last day of the voyage, when Pats, feeling the + need of companionship in his misery, descended for a final interview with + Solomon. Through a dismal part of the steamer he groped his way, until his + eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Solomon heard his step and knew him + from afar. He whined, pulled hard at his chain, and stood up on his hind + legs, waving his front ones in excited welcome. + </p> + <p> + “There is <i>somebody</i> glad to see me, anyway,” <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_58"></a>58</span> thought Pats, as he + sat on an anchor bar with the dog’s head between his knees. There + had always been more or less conversation between these two: not that + Solomon understood the exact meaning of all the words, but he did + thoroughly understand that trust and affection formed the bulk of the + sentiments expressed. And these things being the basis of Solomon’s + character rendered him a sympathetic and grateful listener. The monologue, + address, oration, confidence–or whatever–was delivered in a + low tone, accompanied by strokings of the listener’s head, taps, + friendly pinches, and wandering of fingers about the ears. + </p> + <p> + “Bad place for a dog, old chap. Lots of motion here, and smells, but + ’twill soon be over. So cheer up. Any way, you are lots better off + than I am. In a single interview I have secured the contempt of an + exceptionally fine woman. Yes, your Pats has done well.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled in the darkness, a melancholy smile. + </p> + <p> + “She probably told everything to the priest, and he has explained to + her satisfaction wherein I am a fool,–a malicious, blaspheming, + dangerous villain, and a stupendous ass. And he is right. Perhaps, in + time,–a long time,–I may <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_59"></a>59</span>learn that insulting people’s religion isn’t + the shortest road to popularity.” + </p> + <p> + In his abstraction the hand, for an instant, was withdrawn. Solomon + protested, and the attentions were resumed. “Keep still, old man, I + am not going. And don’t get that chain around your legs. But she is + a fine girl, Sol: <i>too</i> fine, perhaps. Just a little, wee bit too + everlastingly high-minded and superior for ordinary dogs like us.” + </p> + <p> + While administering these pearls of wisdom the speaker had become + interested in two approaching figures, dimly visible in the obscurity. As + they came nearer, he saw that one, the older of the two, a man with gray + chin whiskers and a blue jersey, was drunk. This man stopped, and holding + the other by the arm exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “It’s so, damn it! It’s so, I tell yer! What’s he + doin’ this minute? He’s blind drunk in his cabin. Why, the jag + on him would sink a man-o’-war. Oh, he’s a daisy cap’n, + he is! He’s the champion navigator.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll be all right in the mornin’.” + </p> + <p> + “All right in the mornin’! It’ll be a week! And where’ll + <i>we</i> be to-morrer mornin’? Where are we–hic–now? + God knows, and <i>he</i> ain’t tellin’.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_60"></a>60</span>With a maudlin + gesture and a reverberating hiccup, the speaker, following the motion of + the boat, pushed his friend against the wall and held him there. “I’ll + tell yer where we are; we are more’n fifty miles east of where we + think we are. We ain’t sighted Anticosti yet. And we ain’t + goin’ to.” + </p> + <p> + The other man laughed, “Oh, shut up, Bart. You are gettin’ a + jag on yerself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir! We are fifty miles too far to easterd now, and by + to-morrer mornin’ it’ll be a hundred miles.” + </p> + <p> + They passed on, the older man still holding forth. “I’ve been + this cruise a dozen times, but, by God! this is the first time I ever + tried to get there by–hic–headin’ for Labrador.” + </p> + <p> + They disappeared in the darkness, in the direction of the forecastle, the + sound of their footsteps dying away among the other noises of the boat. + </p> + <p> + Here was food for thought. But, then, the man was exceeding drunk. And his + companion, who probably knew him well, paid no attention to his words. + However, Pats took a look about the boat when he got on deck. The pilot + and second officer were in the wheelhouse, both silent, serious, and + attending to their duty. The <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_61"></a>61</span>watches + were all at their posts and the <i>Maid of the North</i> was ploughing + bravely through the night as if she, at least, had no misgivings. By the + time Pats went to bed, an hour later, the drunken sailor was forgotten. + </p> + <p> + It was a long time before he slept; and the sleep, when it came, was + fitful. Perhaps he had brooded too much over his fall from grace. As the + night wore on he was not sure, half the time, whether he was dreaming or + awake. And so eventful were his slumbers, and so real the events therein, + that his dreams and his waking moments became painfully intermingled. As, + for instance, when he entered the cathedral. For a moment he stood still, + overcome by its vastness and by the size of the congregation. Truly an + imposing assemblage! And the great edifice was ablaze with light. A + wedding, apparently, for there, before the altar, stood the bride, + awaiting the groom. + </p> + <p> + As Pats sauntered up the nave she turned about and smiled. And, lo! it was + Miss Marshall, more beautiful than ever, more stately and more patrician, + if possible, than in her travelling dress. For now she was all in white + with a long veil–and orange blossoms. She smiled at him and + beckoned. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_62"></a>62</span>Yes! He was to + be the groom! It was for him they waited! + </p> + <p> + He strove to get ahead. His feet refused to budge. The harder he tried, + the tighter he stuck. He opened his mouth to explain, but no sound came + forth. Again and again he tried. Again and again he failed. The huge + congregation began to murmur and he could hear them whispering, “What + a fool!” + </p> + <p> + Then, from behind him came three men: Billy Townsend, the man with the + nose, and the other fellow with the flowers. They walked by him, easily, + all in wedding array, and they lined up by the bride. Pats tried to raise + his voice and stop it, but in vain. The Pope stepped forward and performed + the ceremony, uniting them all in marriage. The four bowed their heads and + received a blessing. + </p> + <p> + And when the happy grooms with their bride came down the main aisle, they + gave Pats a look,–a look so triumphant and so contemptuous, that it + set his soul afire. He boiled with fury and humiliation. But stir he could + not, nor speak. The bride’s contempt, and she showed it, was beyond + endurance. Gasping with passion, he tried to rush forward and smite <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_63"></a>63</span>the grooms–to + scream–to do anything. But he could only stand–immovable. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the music changed. From a stately march it galloped into the air + of a comic song that he had always hated. The Pope, as he marched by, + stopped in front of him and cursed him for a Protestant. And now, beneath + the jewelled tiara, Pats recognized the drunken old sailor with the chin + beard. + </p> + <p> + But in the midst of these curses came tremendous blows against the outer + walls, resounding through the whole interior of the Cathedral; then an + awful voice, as from The Almighty, reverberated down the aisle: + </p> + <p> + “Time to get up! We are there!” + </p> + <p> + The martyr, in the violence of his struggle, banged his head against the + berth above, and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At Boyd’s Island, sir, where you get off.” + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0064-image.jpg" id="img009" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_64"></a>64</span><a id="link_5"></a>V<br /><span + class="h2fs">WONDERLAND</span> + </h2> + <p> + When Pats, in the early morning light, stepped out upon the deck, he + found, enveloping all things, a thick, yellow fog. Miss Marshall, her + maid, and Father Burke stood peering over the starboard rail at an + approaching life-boat. This boat had been ashore with baggage, and was now + returning for the passengers. + </p> + <p> + The fog lifted at intervals, allowing fugitive glimpses of a wooded + promontory not a quarter of a mile away. + </p> + <p> + Pats was struck afresh this morning by Miss Marshall’s appearance. + She wore a light gray dress and a hat with an impressive bunch of black, + and he saw, with sorrowing eyes, that she and all that pertained to her + had become more distantly patrician, more generally exalted <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_65"></a>65</span>and unattainable, if + possible, than heretofore. He knew little of women’s dress, but in + the style and cut of this particular gown there existed an indefinable + something that warned him off. No mortal woman in such attire could fail + to realize her own perfection. He also knew that the apparent simplicity + of the hat and gown were delusive. + </p> + <p> + And this woman was so accustomed to the adoration of men that it only + annoyed her! Verily, if there was a gulf between them yesterday, to-day it + had become a shoreless ocean! + </p> + <p> + Moreover, he thought he detected in Father Burke’s face, as they + shook hands at parting, a look of triumph imperfectly suppressed. While + causing a mild chagrin, it brought no surprise, as the lady’s manner + this morning, although civil, was of a temperature to put the chill of + death upon presumptuous hope. + </p> + <p> + After a formal good-by to the uncle, Pats climbed into the little boat and + assisted the lady to a seat in the stern. Then he turned about and held + forth his hands toward the maid. She stepped back and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “There is no danger.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am not going ashore, sir.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_66"></a>66</span>He looked + toward Miss Marshall, who explained: “Louise is not coming with us. + She goes on to Quebec, where I am to meet her in a fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + So they pushed away and rowed off into the fog, waving adieus to the + little group that watched them from the <i>Maid of the North</i>. Both + kept their eyes upon the steamer until a veil of gauze, ethereal but + opaque, closed in between them. The sun, still near the horizon, lit up + the mist with a golden light, and Pats with the haughty lady seemed + floating away into enchanted space. + </p> + <p> + Nearing the shore they made out more clearly the coast ahead. This + fragment of primeval forest, its rocky sides rising fifty feet or + thereabouts above the water, was crowned with gigantic pines, their tops, + above the mist, all glowing in the morning light. The two passengers + regarded this scene in silence, impressed by its savage beauty. The little + pier at which they landed, neglected and unsubstantial, seemed barely + strong enough to bear their weight. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the only landing-place?” Pats demanded of the + boatswain. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. There’s another one farther in, but the tide isn’t + right for it.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_67"></a>67</span>Just off the + pier stood their trunks, and beside them two boxes and a barrel. Of the + three passengers, the gladdest to get ashore, if one could judge by + outward manifestations, was Solomon. He ran and barked and wheeled about, + jumping against his master as if to impart some of his own enthusiasm. His + joy, while less contagious than he himself desired, produced one good + result in causing the lady to unbend a little. At first she merely watched + him with amusement, then talked and played with him, but not freely and + with abandon, only so far as was proper with a dog whose master had become + a suspicious character. As the life-boat disappeared toward the invisible + steamer, Pats turned to his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome to this island, Miss Marshall. I am now the host–and + your humble and obedient vassal. Shall I hurry on ahead and send down for + the baggage? Or shall we go on together and surprise the family?” + </p> + <p> + Her lips parted to say: “Let us go on together,” but she + remembered Father Burke and his warning. So she answered, with a glance at + the trunks, “Perhaps you should go first. The sooner the baggage is + removed the better.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_68"></a>68</span>With a little + bow of acquiescence Pats turned and climbed the rocky path. She followed, + but at a distance, and slowly, that there might be no confusion in his + mind as to her desire to walk alone. To make doubly sure she paused about + half-way up and listened for a moment to the tumbling of the waves upon + the little beach below. + </p> + <p> + Reaching the top of this path she found herself at the edge of a forest. + It was more like a grove,–a vast grove of primeval pines. Into the + shadow of this wood she entered, then stopped, and gazed about. Such trees + she had never seen,–an endless vista of gigantic trunks, like the + columns of a mighty cathedral, all towering to a vault of green, far above + her head. And this effect of an interior–of some boundless temple–was + augmented by the smooth, brown floor,–a carpet of pine-needles. With + upturned face and half-closed eyes the girl drew a long deep breath. The + fragrance of the pines, the sighing of the wind through the canopy above, + all were soothing to the senses; and yet, in a dreamy way, they stirred + the imagination. This was fairy land–the enchanted forest–the + land of poetry and peace–of calm content, far away from common + things. And that unending <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_69"></a>69</span>lullaby + from above! What music could be sweeter? + </p> + <p> + From this revery–of longer duration than she realized–she was + awakened by a distant voice of a person shouting. She could see Pats off + at the end of the point waving his handkerchief and trying to attract the + attention of somebody on the water. Perhaps the gardener, or some + fisherman. + </p> + <p> + Walking farther on, into the wood, she became more and more impressed by + the solemn beauty of this paradise. And the carpet of pine-needles seemed + placed there with kind intent as if to insure a deeper silence. She + resolved to spend much of her time in these woods, and, even now, she + found herself almost regretting the proximity of her friends. + </p> + <p> + In the distance, between the trunks of the trees, came glimpses, first of + Solomon, then of his master, moving hastily about as if on urgent + business. She smiled, a superior, tolerant smile at the inconsistency–and + the sacrilege–of haste or of any kind of business in the sacred + twilight of this grove, this realm of peace. And so, she strolled about, + resting at intervals, inhaling the odors of the pines, and dreaming + dreams. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_70"></a>70</span>In these + reveries came no thoughts of time until she saw the enemy–Pats–approaching. + His silent footsteps on the smooth, brown carpet made him seem but a + spirit of the wood,–some unsubstantial denizen of this enchanted + region. But in his face and manner there was something that dispelled all + dreams. He stopped before her, out of breath. “There is no house + here!” + </p> + <p> + With a frown of dismay she took a backward step. Indicating by a gesture + the cottage out upon the point, she said: + </p> + <p> + “The house we saw from the boat; what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot imagine. But it is no gardener’s cottage.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows,” he answered with a joyless smile. “It + looks like a room in a museum, or a bric-ŕ-brac shop.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know there is no other house?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been over the whole point. I climbed that cliff, behind + there, and got a view of the country all about. There is not a house in + sight.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_71"></a>71</span>“Nor a + settlement of any kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, somebody can give us information.” + </p> + <p> + “So it would seem, but I have hunted in vain for a human being.” + </p> + <p> + “The people you were calling to from the cliff, couldn’t they + tell you something?” + </p> + <p> + “There were no people there. I was trying to stop the steamer.” + </p> + <p> + She regarded him in fresh alarm. “Do you mean they have landed us + out of our way?–at the wrong place?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. “I am not sure. But we can always get the people of + this cottage to take us along in their boat. It is still early; only nine + o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + As they walked toward the cottage she noticed that he was short of breath + and that he seemed tired. But his manner was cheerful, even inspiriting, + and while she took care to remember that he was still in disgrace, she + felt her own courage reviving under the influence of his livelier spirits. + Besides, as they stepped out of the woods into the open space at the + southern end of the point,–a space about two acres in extent and + covered with grass,–and saw the blue sea on three sides, she found + new life in the air that came against her face. In deep <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_72"></a>72</span>breaths she inhaled + this air. Turning her eyes to her left she beheld for the first time the + front of the building they had sighted from the steamer. This building, + one story high, of rough stone, was nearly sixty feet long by about thirty + feet in width. + </p> + <p> + “What a fascinating cottage!” she exclaimed. “It is + almost covered with ivy!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is picturesque, and I am curious to see the sort of family + that lives in such a place.” + </p> + <p> + “Is no one there now?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor anywhere near?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I have looked in every direction–and shouted in every + direction. They are probably off in their boat.” + </p> + <p> + As Pats and Elinor approached the building and stood for a moment before + the door, a squad of hens and chickens, most of them white, began to + gather about. They seemed very trusting and not at all afraid. The guiding + spirit of the party–a tall, self-conscious rooster, attired, + apparently, in a scarlet cap, a light gray suit with voluminous + knickerbockers, and yellow stockings–studied the new-comers, with + his head to one side, expressing himself in sarcastic gutturals. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_73"></a>73</span>“That + fellow,” said Pats, “seems to be making side remarks about us, + and they are not complimentary.” + </p> + <p> + His companion paid no attention to this speech. She had regretted her + enthusiasm over the cottage. Enthusiasm might foster a belief that she was + enjoying his society. So she remarked, in a colder tone, “I think + you had better knock.” + </p> + <p> + He knocked. They listened in silence. He knocked again. Still no answer. + Then he opened the door and entered, she following cautiously. After one + swift, comprehensive survey, she turned to him in amazement. He was + watching her, expecting this effect. + </p> + <p> + The interior of the building was practically a single room. From the + objects contained it might be the hall of a palace, or of an old château–or + of a gallery in some great museum. On the walls hung splendid tapestries + and rare old paintings. Beneath them stood Italian cabinets of superb + design, a marriage chest, a Louis XV. sofa in gilt, upholstered with + Beauvais tapestry, chairs and bergčre to match. Scattered about were vases + in old Sčvres, clocks in ormolu, miniatures, and the innumerable objects + of ancestral and artistic <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_74"></a>74</span>value + pertaining to a noble house. Over all lay the mellowness of age, those + harmonies of color that bewitch the antiquary. + </p> + <p> + Dumfounding it certainly was, the sudden transition from primeval nature + without to this sumptuous interior. Conspicuous in the sombre richness of + these treasures were two marble busts, standing on either side of the + great tapestry fronting the door. They were splendid works of art, larger + than life, and represented a lofty individual who might have been a + marshal of France with the Grand Condé, and an equally exalted personage, + presumably his wife. These impressive ancestors rested on pedestals of + Sienna marble. + </p> + <p> + Elinor Marshall found no words to express her amazement. She stood in + silence, her eyes, in a sort of bewilderment, moving rapidly about the + room. At last in a low, awe-struck voice she said: + </p> + <p> + “Have you no idea what it all means?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever. But I am sure of one thing, that it has nothing to + do with Boyd’s Island. If such a house as this were anywhere within + reach of my sisters, they surely would have mentioned it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, surely!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_75"></a>75</span>“It being + off here in the wilderness is what takes one’s breath away.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t understand it–or even quite believe it yet.” + Then forgetting herself for an instant, she added, impulsively: “Why, + just now I closed my eyes and was surprised, when I opened them again, to + find it still here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I expect an old woman with a hook nose to wave a stick and + have the whole thing vanish.” + </p> + <p> + As their eyes met she almost smiled. For this lapse of duty to her church + and to herself, however, she atoned at once by a sudden frigidity. Turning + away she studied a huge tapestry that hung on their left as they entered. + This tapestry extended almost across the room, forming a screen to a + chamber behind. + </p> + <p> + “That is a bedroom,” said Pats. “I looked in,” and + he drew aside the tapestry that she might enter. She shook her head and + stepped back. But in spite of her respect for the owner’s privacy, + and before she could avert her eyes, she caught a hasty glimpse of a + monumental bed with hangings of faded silk between its massive columns; of + two portraits on the walls and an ivory crucifix. This glance at the + bedroom served to increase her uneasiness. Moving <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_76"></a>76</span>toward a table that + stood near the centre of the room she turned, and regarding Pats with the + lofty, far-away air which never failed to congeal his courage, she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Where do you think we are? How far from your house?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the remotest idea. It is hard to guess. But I have a + suspicion–” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. “Suppose I go out and make another effort to find + these people.” And he started for the door. + </p> + <p> + “What is your suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + He stopped in obvious uncertainty as to his reply. Looking away through + the open door, he said: “Oh, nothing–except that we are not + where we want to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what else?” + </p> + <p> + Pats met her glance and saw that she was becoming distrustful. Standing + with one hand upon the ancient table, with the tapestries and busts behind + her, she was a striking figure, and in perfect harmony with the + surrounding magnificence. She reminded him of some picture of an angry + queen at bay–confronting her enemies. In her eyes and in her manner + he clearly read that she had resolved to know the truth. Moreover, she + gave at this moment <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_77"></a>77</span>a + distinct impression of being a person of considerable spirit. So, to allay + her suspicions, which he could only guess at, he related, after the + briefest hesitation, all he had heard the night before between the two + sailors, repeating, as nearly as possible, what the drunken man had said. + When he had finished she replied, calmly, but evidently repressing her + indignation: + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not tell me this earlier?–on the boat, before it + was too late?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not suppose you would care to know. I attached very little + importance to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Importance! I think I might have had some choice as to being landed + in the wilderness with you alone, or going on to your sisters.” + </p> + <p> + Pats regarded her in a mild surprise. Her sudden anger was very real. He + answered, gently: “The man was so drunk he hardly knew what he was + saying. His companion, who probably knew him well, paid no attention to + his words.” + </p> + <p> + “But <i>I</i> should have paid attention to his words. And so would + my uncle, or any friend of mine, if he could have heard him.” + </p> + <p> + Pats, taken aback at the new light in which he stood, retorted, with some + feeling: + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_78"></a>78</span>“I hope + you don’t mean to say that I did this intentionally?” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you keep such information so carefully to yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Because when I woke up I found we were here–that is, as I + supposed–at Boyd’s Island. Both the steward and the first + officer told me so. My only doubt when I went to bed was about our getting + here. And this morning here we were. It had come out all right, so far as + I knew.” + </p> + <p> + With a curl of her lip that expressed a world of incredulity, she dropped + into one of the chairs behind the table, and rested her chin upon her + hand. + </p> + <p> + In a lower tone, he continued: + </p> + <p> + “I have never been here before, and had no idea how it looked. Why + didn’t Father Burke tell you this was not the place? He knows our + island.” + </p> + <p> + “It was foggy. Nobody could see it; and he knew nothing of the + warning you were keeping to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Beneath this avalanche of contempt, Pats’s feeble knees almost let + him to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Marshall, at least do me the justice to believe–” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_79"></a>79</span>“Would + you mind leaving me for a time?” + </p> + <p> + Into his hollow cheeks came a darker color, and he closed his eyes. Then, + with a glance of resentment, he took a step or two in her direction as if + to speak. But instead of speaking, he turned toward the open door and + walked slowly out. + </p> + <p> + For a long time she remained in the same position, boiling with + resentment, yet keeping back her tears. She knew this coast was wild, + almost uninhabited, neither to the east nor west a sign of life: behind + them, northward, the unending forest. And the owner of this mysterious + habitation,–what manner of man was he? Perhaps there were several. + And she, a woman, alone with these men! From such bitter reflections she + was recalled, slowly, by the realization that her eyes were resting upon a + little portrait about twice the size of an ordinary miniature–a + woman’s face–confronting her from across the table. It hung + against the back of the opposite chair, on a level with her own eyes, and + was suspended by a narrow black ribbon,–an odd place for a portrait, + but in glancing at the table in front of her she thought she guessed the + reason. Before the place in which she had thrown herself she <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_80"></a>80</span>noticed for the first + time a plate, a pewter mug, a napkin, and a knife and fork. Evidently the + host expected to eat alone, for there were no other dishes on the table. + And the portrait, of course, must be his wife, or his mother, perhaps, or + daughter. It proved a pleasant face as it, in turn, regarded her from the + little oval frame,–rather plump and youthful, with a curious little + mouth and large dark eyes, with a peculiar droop at the outer corners. The + hair was drawn up, away from the forehead; the shoulders were bare, and a + string of pearls encircled the neck. She was dark, with good features, not + strictly beautiful, but gentle and somewhat melancholy, in spite of the + mirthful eyes. + </p> + <p> + So this was the romance of their mysterious host! She of the miniature, + whatever her title–wife, mother, daughter, or sweetheart,–was + ever present at his table, looking into his eyes across the board. + </p> + <p> + The American girl felt a quickening interest in this host. Was it love + that drove him to the wilderness? And why did he bring into it such a + wealth of household goods? + </p> + <p> + As she leaned back in the old-fashioned chair, her eyes wandering over the + various objects in this unaccountable abode, her imagination began <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_81"></a>81</span>to play, giving a + life and history to the people in the tapestries and portraits. The + outside world was almost forgotten when she was recalled to herself by the + chimes of an enormous clock behind the door. This triumph of a previous + century, after tolling twelve, rambled off with a music-box accompaniment + into the quaint old minuet attributed to Louis XIII. Before it had + finished, two other clocks began their midday strike. + </p> + <p> + Elinor looked about in alarm, under a vague impression that the various + objects in the room were coming to life. Then, with the reaction, she + smiled and thought: + </p> + <p> + “Our friend is methodical with his clocks.” + </p> + <p> + But still, in this atmosphere, she was not at ease; there was an excess of + mystery, too much that needed explanation. And now that it was midday, the + host might return at any moment and find her there, alone. So she went + out; and to avoid any appearance of pursuing Mr. Boyd, she followed a + little path behind the house that led among the pines. Hardly had she + entered the wood, however, when she saw, off to her right and not many + yards away, the man she was trying to escape. He was lying at full length + along the ground, one arm for a <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_82"></a>82</span>pillow, his face against the pine-needles. In + this prostrate figure every line bore witness to a measureless despair. + </p> + <p> + In her one glance she had seen that Solomon, as he sat by his master’s + head, was following her with his eyes. And these eyes seemed to say: + “We stand or fall together, he and I. So go about your business.” + </p> + <p> + She also saw that a warning from the watcher had aroused the downcast + figure; for it raised its head and looked about. Mortified and angry with + herself, and still angrier with him, she averted her eyes and passed + coldly on; but with the consolation of having witnessed some indication of + his own misery and repentance. However, it was an empty joy. Of what avail + his remorse? The evil was done; her good name was forever compromised. + </p> + <p> + Preoccupied with these thoughts, she halted suddenly, and with a shock. At + her feet, across the little path she had unconsciously followed, stretched + an open grave. It was not a fresh excavation, for on the bottom lay a + covering of pine-needles. And the rough pile of earth alongside was also + covered with them. Projecting into the grave were several roots, feeders + sent out by the great trees above; and from the stumps of other <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_83"></a>83</span>and larger roots it + was evident that he who dug the grave had been driven to use the axe as + well as the shovel. Close beside this grave was a mound with a wooden + cross at the head. + </p> + <p> + “There,” she thought, “rests the lady of the miniature–perhaps.” + This mound was also covered with pine-needles, as if Nature were helping + some one to forget. + </p> + <p> + The silence of this spot, the murmuring of the wind among the branches + high above, all tended to a somewhat mournful revery; and she wondered how + this empty grave had been cheated of its tenant. With reverence she gazed + upon the primitive wooden cross, evidently put together by inexperienced + hands. Then she looked upward, as if to question the voices in the boughs + above. But of the empty grave and its companion the whispering pines told + nothing. + </p> + <p> + Approaching footsteps gave no sound in this forest, and she was startled + by a cough behind her. It was only Pats, not wishing to startle her by a + sudden presence. His face seemed flushed, and even thinner than before; + and about his mouth had come a drawn and sensitive look. But her eyes + rested coldly upon him as they would rest upon any repugnant object that + she despised, but did not fear. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_84"></a>84</span>Smiling with an + effort, he said: “Excuse my following you, but it is nearly one o’clock + and time for food. I am sure we can find something in that cottage.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you have breakfast on the boat?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you <i>must</i> be hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not care to eat.” And she turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Miss Marshall,” and he spoke more seriously, + “pardon my giving you advice, but you have had a hard morning and + you will feel better, later on, for a little food. As for me, I have had + nothing since yesterday, and shall collapse without it. Suppose I go to + the house and scrape up some sort of a lunch. Won’t you come there + in a few minutes?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes travelled frigidly from his face to his feet. But before she + could reply, he added: + </p> + <p> + “Besides, the owner may come back, now, at any minute, and if he + finds us together it will save time in our getting off.” + </p> + <p> + Turning away to resume her walk she answered, indifferently: “Very + well, I will be there soon.” + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0085-image.jpg" id="img010" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_85"></a>85</span><a id="link_6"></a>VI<br /><span + class="h2fs">THE SECRET OF THE PINES</span> + </h2> + <p> + At one o’clock the lunch was served. + </p> + <p> + Pats had placed before the lady a portion of a ham, a plate of crackers, + some marmalade, and a bottle of claret. + </p> + <p> + “There are provisions in the cellar,” he said, “to last + a year: sacks of flour, dried apples, preserved fruits, potatoes, all + sorts of canned things, and claret by the dozen.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he laid his hand upon the back of the chair that held the + miniature,–the seat opposite her own. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t sit there!” she exclaimed. “We must respect + the customs of the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” and he drew up another seat. + </p> + <p> + Food and a little wine tended to freshen the spirits of both travellers. + Pats especially acquired new life and strength. The arrival of <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_86"></a>86</span>a glass or two of + claret in his yearning stomach revived his hopes and loosened his tongue. + Noticing that her eyes were constantly returning to the little portrait + that faced her, he said, at last: + </p> + <p> + “By the way, there is something in the cellar that may throw some + light on this lady, or on that empty grave back there.” And he + nodded toward the pines. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “A coffin.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled at her surprise and horror. In a low voice, she murmured: + </p> + <p> + “It is empty, of course!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I raised the lid.” + </p> + <p> + “What can it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea, unless some one disappointed somebody else by + remaining alive, when he–or she–ought to be dead. That + sometimes happens.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very mysterious,” and she looked into the eyes of the + miniature as if for enlightenment. + </p> + <p> + “Very, indeed; but on the other hand, certain things are pretty + evident. Such as the character of our host, and various points in his + career.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that he is a hermit with a history?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and more specific than that!” Then, <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_87"></a>87</span>turning about in his + chair and surveying the room: “He is an aristocrat, to begin with. + These works of art are ancestral. They are no amateur’s collection. + Moreover, he left France because he had to. A man of his position does not + bring his treasures into the wilderness for the fun of it. And when he + settled here he had no intention of being hunted up by his friends–or + by his enemies.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor, with averted eyes, listened politely, but with no encouraging + display of interest. + </p> + <p> + “But let us be sure he is not within hearing,” Pats added, and + he stepped to the door and looked about. “Not a sail in sight.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Solomon renewed his efforts to get his master to follow him, + but in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you go with him?” said Elinor. “He may + have made an important discovery, like the graves, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “More likely a woodchuck’s hole, or a squirrel track. Besides,” + he added, with a smile, as he dropped into his chair again, “these + broomsticks of mine have collapsed once to-day, and I am becoming + cautious. It has been a lively morning–for a convalescent.” + </p> + <p> + With a look that was almost, but not quite, sympathetic, she replied: + “You have done too <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_88"></a>88</span>much. + Stay here and rest. I will go with him, just for curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + She went out, preceded by the bounding Solomon. Through the open door Pats + watched them, and into his face came a graver look as he followed, with + his eyes, the graceful figure in the gray dress until it disappeared from + the sunlight among the shadows of the forest. + </p> + <p> + That he and she were stranded at a point far away from his own home he had + little doubt. No such extraordinary house as this could have existed + within fifty miles of Boyd’s Island without his hearing of it. + Moreover, he keenly regretted on her account his own physical condition. + Since rising from his bed of fever he had carefully avoided all fatigue, + according to his doctor’s injunction. But now, after this morning’s + efforts, his legs were weak and his head was flighty. Things showed a + tendency to dance before his eyes in a way that he had not experienced + heretofore. When he lay upon the ground an hour ago he did it, among other + reasons, to avoid tumbling from dizziness and exhaustion. + </p> + <p> + The lady’s situation was bad enough already. To have a collapsible + man upon her hands was a supreme and final calamity that he wished to + spare her. He leaned back in his chair and <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_89"></a>89</span>rested his feet on the heavy carving beneath the + table. How good it was, this relaxation of all one’s muscles! + </p> + <p> + The pompous rooster, with a few favorites of his seraglio, came and stood + about the open door, eying him in disapproval, and always muttering. + </p> + <p> + In looking idly about Pats found himself becoming interested in the huge + tapestry extending across the room at his right,–the one that served + as a screen to the bed-chamber. While no expert in no such matters, he + recognized in this tapestry a splendid work of art, both from its color + and wealth of detail, and from the quality of its material. The more he + studied it, the deeper became his interest–and his amusement. The + scene, a formal Italian garden of the sixteenth century, of vast + dimensions, showed fountains and statues without limit, and trees trimmed + in fantastic shapes, with a château in the background. But the central + group of figures brought a smile to his face. For, while the gardens were + filled with lords and ladies of the court of Henri III., those in the + foreground being nearly the size of life,–all clad in their richest + attire, feathers in their hats, high ruffs about the neck, and resplendent + with jewels, the ladies in stiff bodices and voluminous <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_90"></a>90</span>skirts,–there + were two figures in the centre in startling contrast with their + overdressed companions. These two, a man and a woman, wore nothing except + a garland of leaves about the hips. + </p> + <p> + Pats smiled and even forgot his fatigue, as he realized that he was gazing + upon a serious conception of the Garden of Eden. And the bride and groom + showed no embarrassment. The groom was pointing, in an easy manner, to + anything, anywhere, while the bride, in a graceful but self-conscious + pose, ignored his remarks. + </p> + <p> + And all the lords and ladies round about accepted, as a matter of course, + the nakedness of this unconventional pair. While still fascinated by the + brazen indifference of this famous couple, and pleasantly shocked by their + disregard for all the rules of propriety, he was aroused by the sudden + appearance in the doorway of Elinor Marshall. She had evidently been + hurrying. There was excitement in her voice, as she exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “He is here! He has come back!” + </p> + <p> + “The owner?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is taking a nap on a bench, on the other side of the point.” + </p> + <p> + In another moment Pats was beside her, both walking rapidly through the + wood. Approaching <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_91"></a>91</span>the + western edge of the point, they saw, between the trees, a figure sitting + upon a bench, overlooking the water, his back toward them. With one elbow + upon an arm of the rustic seat, his cheek resting on his hand and his + knees crossed, he seemed in full enjoyment of a nap. + </p> + <p> + Pats took a position in front of the sleeper, at a respectful distance, + then said, in a voice not too loud: + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir.” + </p> + <p> + There was no responsive movement. When it became clear that he had not + been heard, Pats stepped a very little nearer and repeated, in a louder + tone: + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Still the sleeper slept. + </p> + <p> + Pats glanced at Elinor Marshall, who smiled, involuntarily. Pats also + smiled, as he realized that this ceremonious and somewhat labored greeting + had a distinctly comic side, especially when so completely thrown away. + However, he was about to repeat the salutation and in a louder voice, when + he was struck by the color of the hand against the cheek. He went nearer + and, stooping down, looked up into the sleeper’s face. A glance was + enough. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_92"></a>92</span>Slowly he + straightened up, then reverently removed his hat. + </p> + <p> + Elinor, with a look of awe, came nearer and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Dead! Is it possible!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment both stood in silence, looking down upon the seated figure. + It was that of an elderly man, short, and slight of frame, with thick gray + hair, and a beard cut roughly to a point. The face, brown, thin, and bony, + was unduly emphasized by a Roman nose, too large for the other features. + But the face, as a whole, impressed the two people now regarding it as + almost handsome. He was clad in a dark gray suit, and a soft felt hat lay + upon the seat beside him. + </p> + <p> + “How long has he been here, do you think?” asked Elinor, in a + low voice. + </p> + <p> + “A day or two, I should say. His clothes are a little damp, and + there are pine-needles on his shoulders and on his head.” + </p> + <p> + “But how dreadfully sudden it must have come! Not a change in his + position, or in his expression, even.” + </p> + <p> + “An ideal death,” said Pats. “I have helped bury a good + many men this year, both friends and enemies, but very few went off as + comfortably as this.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_93"></a>93</span>He took out his + watch, seemed to hesitate a moment, then said, reluctantly: + </p> + <p> + “This is bad for us, you know, finding him dead this way.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “It means there is no boat to get away with.” + </p> + <p> + A look of alarm came into her face. + </p> + <p> + “We may as well face the situation,” he continued, looking off + over the water. “This man lived here alone, as we know from what we + have seen in his house. And he evidently selected this place, not wishing + to be disturbed. We are at the end of a bay at least ten miles deep, with + no settlement in sight. There is nothing whatever to bring a visitor in + here. The traffic of the gulf is away out there, perhaps thirty miles from + here.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply. Venturing to glance at her face, he saw there were no + signs of anger, only a look of anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you just what I think, Miss Marshall, and you can act + accordingly. I shall, of course, do whatever you wish. But, as nearly as I + can judge, we are prisoners until we can get away by tramping through the + wilderness.” + </p> + <p> + He indicated, with a gesture, the broad current at their feet, washing the + western edge of <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_94"></a>94</span>the + point. “That river we can never cross without a boat, or a raft; and + in that direction–I don’t know how many miles away–is + Boyd’s Island. In the other direction, to the east, there is nothing + but wilderness for an indefinite distance. That is, I think so. Now, if + you prefer, I will go up this bank of the river at once, tie some logs + together and try for a passage; then push on as fast as possible for our + place, or the nearest settlement, and come back for you. Or, I will stay + until we can go on together. Whatever you decide shall be done.” + </p> + <p> + He had spoken rapidly, and was ill at ease, watching her earnestly all the + while. + </p> + <p> + As for her, she was dismayed by his words. She had been listening with a + growing terror. Now, she turned away to conceal a tendency to tears. But + this was repressed. With no resentment, but with obvious emotion, she + inquired: + </p> + <p> + “Can you get across the river?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely.” + </p> + <p> + “If you fail, or if anything happens to you, what becomes of me?” + </p> + <p> + “You would be here alone, and in a very bad plight. For that reason + I think I would better stay until we can start together.” + </p> + <p> + A slight gesture of resignation was her only <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_95"></a>95</span>reply. There was a pause; uncomfortable for Pats + from his consciousness of her low opinion of him. However, he continued, + in a somewhat perfunctory way, turning to the silent occupant of the + bench. + </p> + <p> + “Now, as we take possession of this place, the least we can do is to + give the owner a decent burial. Fortunately for us a grave is dug and a + coffin ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, <i>his</i> grave and <i>his</i> coffin,” and she + regarded with a gentler expression the sitting figure. “And I think + I know why he dug the grave.” + </p> + <p> + “To save somebody else the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure of resting beside his companion.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! that explains it all. He knew that strangers might bury + him in the easiest place; that they would never chop through all those + roots.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped around behind the body, placed his hands under the arms, and + made an effort to raise it, but the weight was beyond his strength. + Looking toward his companion with an apologetic smile, he said: “I + am sorry to be so useless, but–together we can carry him, if you don’t + mind.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_96"></a>96</span>At this + suggestion Elinor, with a look of horror, took a backward step. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said, “for suggesting it. I have + been doing so much of this work that I had forgotten how it affected + others.” + </p> + <p> + “What work?” + </p> + <p> + “Burying people. In the Transvaal. One morning, with a squad, I + buried twenty-eight. Nine of them my own friends. So, if I go about this + in the simplest way, do not think it is from want of sympathy.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will bring that wheelbarrow I saw behind the house.” + </p> + <p> + He started off, then stopped as if to say something, but hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mr. Boyd?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that coffin is too heavy for me. Would you mind helping + with it?” + </p> + <p> + “No. And I can help you with the body, too, if necessary.” And + together they returned to the cottage. + </p> + <hr class="tb" /> + <p> + Never, probably, did simpler obsequies befall a peer of France. + </p> + <p> + Sitting up in the same position as on the rustic bench, his cheek upon his + hand, his elbow on <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_97"></a>97</span>the + side of the barrow, the hermit was wheeled to his final resting-place + beneath the pines. Beside him, with a helping hand, walked Elinor + Marshall, shocked and saddened by these awful incongruities. + </p> + <p> + Behind came Solomon. + </p> + <p> + Among the pines, in the solemn shade of this cathedral, grander and more + impressive than any human temple, moved the little procession. + </p> + <p> + No requiem; only the murmuring in the boughs above, those far-away voices, + dearer to him, perhaps,–and to his companion in the grave beside,–than + all other music. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0098-image.jpg" id="img011" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_98"></a>98</span><a id="link_7"></a>VII<br /><span + class="h2fs">THE CLOUDS GATHER</span> + </h2> + <p> + The supper that evening was late. + </p> + <p> + After the simple repast–of crackers, tongue, and a cup of tea–Pats + and Elinor strolled out into the twilight and sat upon a rock. The rock + was at the very tip of the point, overlooking the water to the south. + </p> + <p> + On the right, off to the west, the land showed merely as a purple strip in + the fading light, stretching out into the gulf a dozen miles or more. + Behind it the sinking sun had left a bar of crimson light. To the east lay + another headland running, like its neighbor, many miles to the south. + These two coasts formed a vast bay, at whose northern extremity lay the + little point at which Miss Elinor Marshall and Mr. Patrick Boyd had been + landed by the <i>Maid of the North</i>. In the gathering gloom this + prospect, <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_99"></a>99</span>with + the towering forest that lay behind, was impressive–and solemn. And + the solemnity of the scene was intensified by the primeval solitude,–the + absence of all sign of human life. + </p> + <p> + Both travellers were silent, thoughtful, and very tired. It had been a + long day, and then the misunderstanding in the middle of it had told + considerably upon the nerves of both. To Pats the most exhausting + experience of all had been the business of the baggage,–its + transportation from the beach below to the house above. Elinor’s + trunk, being far too heavy for their own four hands, Pats had suggested + carrying the trays up separately; and this was done. Certain things from + his own trunk he had lugged off into the woods, where, as he said: + </p> + <p> + “There’s a little outbuilding that will do for me. Not a royal + museum like this of yours, but good accommodations for a bachelor.” + </p> + <p> + She did not inquire as to particulars. The gentleman’s bed-chamber + was not a subject on which she cared to encourage confidences. + </p> + <p> + Her fatigue had merely created a wholesome desire for rest,–the + sleepiness and indifference that come from weary muscles. But Pats’s + exhaustion was of a different sort. All the <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_100"></a>100</span>strength of his body had departed. Every + muscle, cord, and sinew was unstrung. His spine seemed on the point of + folding up. A hollow, nervous feeling had settled in the back of his head, + and being something new it caused him a mild uneasiness. Moreover, his + hands and feet were cold. Dispiriting chills travelled up and down his + back at intervals. This might be owing to the change in temperature, as a + storm was evidently brewing. + </p> + <p> + The wind from the northwest had grown several degrees colder since the sun + went down, and the heavens were sombre. There was not a star in sight. A + yearning to close his eyes and go to sleep came over him, but he + remembered how offensive was his presence to this lady, even at his best + behavior. He must take no liberties; so he remarked, cheerfully, in a tone + indicative of suppressed exuberance of spirit: + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will not feel nervous in your château to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I think not. It is a weird place to sleep in, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is. Wouldn’t you like me to sleep just outside, near + the door? I am used to camping out, you know.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_101"></a>101</span>“No, I + thank you. I shall get along very well, I have no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + After that a prolonged silence. At last the lady arose. + </p> + <p> + “I think I shall go in, Mr. Boyd. I find I am very tired.” + </p> + <p> + While they were groping about the cottage for a lamp, Elinor remembered + two candelabra that stood upon a cabinet, stately works of art in bronze + and gilt, very heavy, with five candles to each. One of them was taken + down. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t light them all,” said Elinor. “We must not + be extravagant.” + </p> + <p> + But Pats did light them all, saying: “This is a special occasion, + and you are the guest of honor.” + </p> + <p> + The guest of honor looked around this ever-surprising interior and + experienced a peculiar sense of fear. She kept it to herself, however; but + as her eyes moved swiftly from the life-sized figures in the tapestry to + the sharply defined busts, and then to the canvas faces, the whole room + seemed alive with people. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of company here,” said Pats, reading her expression. + “But in your chamber, there, you will have fewer companions, only + the host and his wife.” Then, with a smile, “Excuse <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_102"></a>102</span>my suggesting it, + if an impertinence, but if you would like to have me take a look under + that monumental bed I shall be most happy to do it.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated, yet she knew she would do it herself, after he had gone. + While she was hesitating, Pats drew aside the tapestry and passed with the + candelabrum into the chamber. He made a careful survey of the territory + beneath the bed and reported it free of robbers. Solomon, also, was + investigating; and Pats, who was doing this solely for Elinor’s + peace of mind, knew well that if a human being were anywhere about the dog + would long ago have announced him. But they made a tour of the room, + looking behind and under the larger objects, lifting the lids of the + marriage chests and opening the doors of the cupboard. Into the cellar, + too, they descended, and made a careful search. The five candles produced + a weird effect in their promenade along this subterraneous apartment, + lighting up an astonishing medley of furniture, garden implements, empty + bottles, the posts and side pieces of an extra bed, a broken statue, + another wheelbarrow, a lot of kindling wood, and the empty corner where + the coffin had awaited its mission. There seemed to be everything except + the man they were looking for. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_103"></a>103</span>“Fearfully + cold down here!” Pats’s teeth chattered as he spoke, and he + shivered from crown to heel. + </p> + <p> + “Cold! It doesn’t seem so to me,” and her tone suggested + a somewhat contemptuous surprise. + </p> + <p> + “To me it is like the chill of death.” The candles shook in + his hand as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you have taken cold,” and with stately indifference + she moved on toward the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Proximity of a Boston iceberg more likely.” But this was not + spoken aloud. + </p> + <p> + Upstairs, when about to take his departure, Pats was still shivering. As + he stood for a moment before the embers in the big open fireplace at the + end of the cottage, his eyes rested upon a chest near by, with a rug and a + cushion on the top, evidently used as a lounge by the owner. After + hesitating a moment, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Would you object to my occupying the top of that chest, just for + to-night?” + </p> + <p> + As she turned toward him he detected a straightening of the figure and the + now familiar loftiness of manner which he knew to be unfailing signs of + anger–or contempt. Possibly both. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_104"></a>104</span>“Certainly + not. If you have a cold, it is better you should remain near the fire. I + have no objections to sleeping in that other house. You say there <i>is</i> + another house.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! There is another house,” he hastened to explain. + “And it’s plenty good enough. Of course I shall go there. I + beg your pardon for suggesting anything else. I forgot my resolve. I didn’t + realize what I was doing.” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer going there myself,” she said, rapidly. “I <i>much</i> + prefer it.” + </p> + <p> + And she turned toward the chamber to make arrangements for departure. But + Pats stepped forward and said, decisively, and in a tone that surprised + her: + </p> + <p> + “You stay here. I go to the other house myself.” + </p> + <p> + He took his hat, and with Solomon at his heels strode rapidly to the door. + There he stopped, and with his hand on the latch said, more gently, in his + usual manner: + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn’t you like Solomon to stay here with you? He is lots + of company, and a protector.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply, but looked with glacial indifference from the man to + his dog. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_105"></a>105</span>“You + would feel less lonesome, I know.” Patting Solomon on the head and + pointing to the haughty figure, “You stay here, old man. That’s + all right. I’ll see you in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + The dog clearly preferred going with his master, but Pats, with a pleasant + good-night to the lady, stepped out into the darkness and closed the door + behind him. + </p> + <p> + Solomon, with his nose to the door, stood for several moments in silent + protest against this desertion. Later, however, he followed Elinor into + the bed-chamber, and although his presence gave her courage and was + distinctly a solace, she remained vaguely apprehensive and too ill at ease + to undress and go to bed; so, instead, she lay on the outside of it, in a + wrapper. + </p> + <p> + Without, the northeast wind had become a gale. The howling of the storm, + together with the ghostly silence of the many-peopled room excited her + imagination and quickened her fears. + </p> + <p> + But weariness and perfect physical relaxation overcame exhausted nerves, + and at last the lady slept. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0106-image.jpg" id="img012" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_106"></a>106</span><a id="link_8"></a>VIII<br /><span + class="h2fs">“WOMEN ARE DEVILS”</span> + </h2> + <p> + So sound was Elinor Marshall’s sleep that when she awoke the old + clock behind the door was celebrating, with its usual music, the hour of + nine. From the fury of the rain upon the roof and the sheets of water + coursing down the little panes of the window in her chamber, it seemed as + if a deluge had arrived. And upon opening the front door she stepped + hastily back to avoid the water from the roof and the spattering from the + doorstep. But Solomon was not afraid. He darted out into the rain and + disappeared among the pines. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Boyd will surely get a soaking when he comes for his breakfast,” + she thought. And she wondered, casually, if he had a waterproof or an + umbrella. He would soon appear, probably, and, as men were always hungry, + she <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_107"></a>107</span>turned + her attention to hunting up food and coffee for a breakfast. These were + easily found. Having started a fire and set the table for two, she got the + coffee under way. Crackers, boiled eggs, sardines, marmalade, cold ham, + and apples were to appear at this repast. + </p> + <p> + But at ten o’clock Mr. Boyd had not appeared. At half-past ten she + realized the folly of waiting indefinitely for a man who preferred his bed + to his breakfast, and she sat down alone. In the midst of her meal, + however, she heard Solomon scratching at the door. No sooner had he + entered–dripping with rain–than he began the same pantomime of + entreaty as that of yesterday when he tried to get somebody to follow him. + Now, perhaps his master was in trouble. + </p> + <p> + But Elinor remembered what Mr. Boyd himself had said, “He has + probably found a woodchuck or a squirrel track.” + </p> + <p> + Looking out into the driving rain she decided to take the benefit of the + doubt. But Solomon was persistent; so aggressively persistent that in the + end he became convincing. At last she put on her waterproof and plunged + forth into the tempest, the overjoyed dog capering wildly in front. + Straight into the woods he led her. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_108"></a>108</span>Only a short + distance had they travelled among the pines when she stopped, with a new + fear, at the sound of voices. Two men, she thought, were quarrelling. Then + a moment later, she heard the fragment of a song. After listening more + attentively she decided that the voice of Mr. Boyd was the only one she + heard. But was he intoxicated? All she caught was a senseless, almost + incoherent flow of language, with laughable attempts at singing. At this, + Elinor was on the point of turning back, prompted both by terror and + disgust, when Solomon, with increasing vehemence, renewed his + exhortations. She yielded, and a few steps farther the sight of Pats lying + upon the ground at the foot of a gigantic pine, his valise beside him, its + contents, now soaked with rain and scattered about, brought a twinge of + remorse. + </p> + <p> + So he had done this rather than oppose her ideas of propriety! And + yesterday, when he spoke of another house, she, in her heart, had not + believed him. + </p> + <p> + All scruples regarding intoxication were dismissed. She hastened forward + and knelt beside him. Pats, with feverish face, lay on his back in wild + delirium. The pine-needles that formed his bed were soggy with rain, and + his clothing <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_109"></a>109</span>was + soaked. She laid her hand against his face and found it hot. His eyes met + hers with no sign of recognition. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right,” he muttered, rolling his head from + side to side, “nobody denies it. Run your own business; but I want + my clothes. Damn it, I’m freezing!” + </p> + <p> + His teeth chattered and he shook his fist in an invisible face. + Involuntarily, from a sense of helplessness, she looked vaguely about as + if seeking aid. + </p> + <p> + Here, in the woods, was protection from the wind, but the branches aloft + were moving and tossing from the fury of the gale above. The usual + murmuring of the pines had become a roar. Great drops of rain, shaken from + this surging vault, fell in fitful but copious showers. This constant + roar,–not unlike the ocean in a gale,–the sombre light, the + helpless and perhaps dying man before her, the chill and mortal dampness + of all and everything around, for an instant congealed her courage and + took away her strength. But this she fought against. All her powers of + persuasion, and all her strength, she employed to get him on his feet. + Pats, although wild in speech and reckless in gesture, was docile and + willing to obey. The weakness of his own legs, <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_110"></a>110</span>however, threatened + to bring his rescuer and himself to the ground. And, all the time, a + constant flow of crazy speech and foolish, feeble song. + </p> + <p> + Half-way to the cottage he stopped, wrenched his arm from her grasp and + demanded, with a frown: “I say; you expect decent things of a woman, + don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course.” And she nodded assent, trying to lead him on + again. But he pushed her away and would have fallen with the effort had + she not caught him in time. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there’s this about it,” he continued, trying + feebly to shake his arm from her hands yet staggering along where she led, + “I’m not stuck on that woman or any other. I’m not in + that line of business. Do I look like a one-eyed ass?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not at all!” And, gently, she urged him forward. + </p> + <p> + “Because three or four fools are gone over her, she thinks everybody + else–oh! who cares, anyway? Let her think!” + </p> + <p> + It was a zigzag journey. He reeled and plunged, dragging her in all + directions; and so yielding were his knees that she doubted if they could + bear him to the house. Once, when seemingly on the point of a collapse, he + muttered, <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_111"></a>111</span>in + a confidential tone: “This hauling guns under a frying sun does give + you a thirst, hey? Say, am I right, or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, you are right. Come along: just a little farther.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever swim in champagne with your mouth open?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What a fool!” + </p> + <p> + Then he stopped, straightened up and sang, in a die-away, broken voice, + with chattering teeth: + </p> + <div class="poetry"> + <p> + “See the Britons, Bloody Britons,<br /> Millions + of ’em doncherknow,<br /> All a swarming up the kopje–<br /> + Just to turn about an hopje!<br /> O, + where in hell to go!<br /> Bloody + Britons!” + </p> + </div> + <p> + Grasping her roughly by the shoulder, he exclaimed: “Why don’t + you join in the chorus, you blithering idiot?” + </p> + <p> + This song, in fragments and with variations, he sang–or rather tried + to sing–repeatedly. At the edge of the woods he seemed to shrink + from the fury of the storm which drove, in cutting blasts, against their + faces. And on the threshold of the cottage he again held back. <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_112"></a>112</span>In the doorway, + leaning against the jamb, he said, solemnly: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young feller, just mark my words, women are devils. The + less you have to do with them the better for you. D–n the whole + tribe! That’s what I say!” + </p> + <p> + But she dragged him in and supported him to a chair before the fire. He + sat shivering with cold, his chin upon his breast, apparently exhausted by + the walk. The water dripping from his saturated garments formed puddles on + the floor. + </p> + <p> + Elinor, for a moment, stood regarding him in heart-stricken silence. Once + more she felt of his clothes, then, after an inward struggle, she made a + resolve. As she did it the color came into her cheeks. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0113-image.jpg" id="img013" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_113"></a>113</span><a id="link_9"></a>IX<br /><span + class="h2fs">A SINNER’S RECOMPENSE</span> + </h2> + <p> + After a lapse of time–an unremembered period of whose length he had + no conception–Pats awoke. + </p> + <p> + Was it a little temple of carved wood in which he lay? At each corner + stood a column; above him a little dome of silk, ancient and much faded. + Gradually–and slowly–he realized that he was reposing on a bed + of vast dimensions and in a room whose furnishings belonged to a previous + century. A mellow, golden light pervaded the apartment. This light, which + gave to all things in the room an air of unreality–as in an ancient + painting luminous with age–came from the sunshine entering through a + piece of antiquated silk, placed by considerate hands against the window. + </p> + <p> + Pats’s wandering eyes encountered a lady in a chair. She sat facing + him, a few feet away, her <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_114"></a>114</span>head + resting easily against the carved woodwork behind, a hand upon each arm of + the seat. She was asleep. In this golden mist she seemed to the + half-dreaming man a vision from another world–something too good to + be true–a divine presence that might vanish if he moved. Or, + perhaps, she might fade back into a frame and prove to be only another of + the portraits that hung about the room. So far as he could judge, with his + slowly awakening senses, he was gazing upon the most entrancing face he + had ever beheld. At first the face was unfamiliar, but soon, with + returning memory, he recalled it. But it seemed thinner now. There were + dark lines beneath the eyes, and something about the mouth gave an + impression of weariness and care; and these were not in the face as he had + known it. However, the closed lids, and the head resting calmly against + the back of the high chair made a tranquil picture. For a long time he lay + immovable, his eyes drinking in the vision. There was nothing to disturb + the silence save the solemn ticking of a clock in another part of the + cottage. He heard, beyond the big tapestry, the sound of a dog snapping at + a fly. Pats smiled and would have whistled to Solomon, but he remembered + the weary angel by his bed. With a sort <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_115"></a>115</span> of terror he recalled this lady’s + capacity for contempt. + </p> + <p> + Being too warm for comfort he pushed, with exceeding gentleness and + caution, the bed-clothes farther from his chin. But the movement, although + absolutely noiseless, as he believed, caused the eyes of the sleeper to + open. She arose, then stood beside him. A cool hand was laid gently upon + his forehead; another drew up the bed-clothes to his chin, as they were + before. With anxious eyes he studied her face, and when he found therein + neither contempt nor aversion he experienced an overwhelming joy. And she, + detecting in the invalid’s eyes an unwonted look, bent over and + regarded him more intently. As his eyes looked into hers he smiled, + faintly, experimentally, in humble adoration. The face above him lit up + with pleasure. In a very low tone she exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “You are feeling better!” + </p> + <p> + He undertook to reply but no voice responded. He tried again, and + succeeded in whispering: + </p> + <p> + “Has anything happened?” + </p> + <p> + “You have been very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “How long?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the eighth day.” + </p> + <p> + “The eighth day!” He frowned in a mental <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_116"></a>116</span>effort to unravel + the past. “Then I must have been–out of my head.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, most of the time.” She was watching him with anxious + eyes. “Perhaps you had better not talk much now. Try and sleep + again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am–full of sleep. Is this the same house–we + discovered that first day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes, and again she rested a hand upon his brow. + </p> + <p> + “Who is here besides you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No one–except Solomon.” + </p> + <p> + “Solomon!” and he smiled. “Is Solomon well?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! Very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have taken care of me all this time?” + </p> + <p> + She turned away and took up a glass of water from a table near the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Solomon and I together. Are you thirsty? Would you like + anything?” + </p> + <p> + Pats closed his eyes and took a long breath. There was no use in trying to + say what he felt, so he answered in a husky voice, which he found + difficult to control: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I <i>am</i> thirsty.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_117"></a>117</span>“Would + you like tea or a glass of water?” + </p> + <p> + “Water, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Or, would you prefer grapes?” + </p> + <p> + “Grapes!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, grapes, or oranges, or pears, whichever you prefer.” + </p> + <p> + His look of incredulity seemed to amuse her. “Do you remember the + two boxes and the barrel left by the <i>Maid of the North</i> on the beach + with our baggage?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, one of those boxes was filled with fruit.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there plenty for both of us?” + </p> + <p> + “More than enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will have a glass of water first and then grapes–and + all the other things.” + </p> + <p> + He drank the water, and as she took away the empty glass, he said, in a + serious tone: “Miss Marshall, I wish I could tell you how mortified + I am and how–how–” + </p> + <p> + “Mortified! At what?” + </p> + <p> + “All this trouble–this–whole business.” + </p> + <p> + “But you certainly could not help it!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s very kind of you, but it’s all wrong–all + wrong!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled and moved away, and as she drew <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_118"></a>118</span>aside the tapestry and disappeared, he turned + his face to the wall, and muttered, “Disgraceful! Disgraceful! I + must get well fast.” + </p> + <p> + And he carried out this resolve. Every hour brought new strength. In less + than a week he was out of bed and sitting up. During this early period of + convalescence–the period of tremulous legs and ravenous hunger–the + Fourth of July arrived, and they celebrated the occasion by a sumptuous + dinner. There was soup, sardines, cold tongue, dried-apple sauce, baked + potatoes, fresh bread, and preserved pears, and the last of the grapes. At + table, Elinor faced the empty chair that held the miniature, for the + absent lady’s right to that place was always respected. Pats sat at + the end facing the door. They dined at noon. A bottle of claret was opened + and they drank to the health of Uncle Sam. + </p> + <p> + Toward the end of the dinner, Pats arose, and with one hand on the table + to reinforce his treacherous legs, held aloft his glass. Looking over to + the dog, who lay by the open door, his head upon his paws, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Solomon, here’s to a certain woman; of all women on earth the + most unselfish and forgiving, the most perfect in spirit and far and away + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_119"></a>119</span>the most + beautiful–the Ministering Angel of the Pines. God bless her!” + </p> + <p> + At these words Solomon, as if in recognition of the sentiment, arose from + his position near the door, walked to Elinor’s side and, with his + habitual solemnity, looked up into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Solomon,” said Pats, “you have the soul of a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + In Elinor’s pale face there was a warmer color as she bent over and + caressed the dog. + </p> + <p> + After the dinner all three walked out into the pines, Pats leaning on the + lady’s arm. The day was warm. But the gentle, southerly breeze came + full of life across the Gulf. And the water itself, this day, was the same + deep, vivid blue as the water that lies between Naples and Vesuvius. The + convalescent and his nurse stopped once or twice to drink in the air–and + the scene. + </p> + <p> + Pats filled his lungs with a long, deep breath. “I feel very light. + Hold me fast, or I may float away.” + </p> + <p> + Both his head and his legs seemed flighty and precarious. Those two + glasses of claret were proving a little too much–they had set his + brain a-dancing. But this he kept to himself. <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_120"></a>120</span>She noticed the high spirits, but supposed + them merely an invalid’s delight in getting out of doors. + </p> + <p> + Under the big trees they rested for a time, in silence, Elinor gazing out + across the point, over the glistening sea beyond. The shade of the pines + they found refreshing. The convalescent lay at full length, upon his back, + looking up with drowsy eyes into the cool, dark canopy, high above. + Soothing to the senses was the sighing of the wind among the branches. + </p> + <p> + “This is good!” he murmured. “I could stay here forever.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be your fate,” and her eyes moved sadly over the + distant, sailless sea. “It is a month to-day that we have been here.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is, a whole month!” + </p> + <p> + Elinor sighed. “There is something wrong, somewhere. It seems to me + the natural–the only thing–would be for somebody to hunt us + up.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Could they have sailed by this bay and missed us?” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless they were idiots. Everybody on the steamer knew we + sailed into a bay to get here.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_121"></a>121</span>“Still, + they may have missed us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose they did go by us, once or twice, or several times; + people don’t abandon their best friends and brothers in that + off-hand fashion.” + </p> + <p> + After a pause he added, “Something may have happened to Father Burke + or to Louise.” + </p> + <p> + “But even then,” said Elinor, turning toward him, “wouldn’t + they try and discover why I had not arrived? And wouldn’t they hunt + <i>you</i> up?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I was to be a surprise. None of them knew I was coming. They + think I am still in South Africa.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence, broken at last by Pats. “What a hideous + practical joke I have turned out! In the first place I strand you here and–” + </p> + <p> + “No! I was very unjust that day and have repented–and tried to + atone.” + </p> + <p> + “Atone! You! Angels defend us! If atonement was due from you, where + am I? Instead of getting you away, I go out of my head and have a fever–and + am fed–like a baby.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. “That is hardly your fault.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is. No <i>man</i> would do it. Pugs and Persian cats do + that sort of thing. For <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_122"></a>122</span> + men there are proper times for giving out. But there is one thing I should + like to say–that is, that my life is yours. This skeleton belongs to + you, and the soul that goes with it. Henceforth I shall be your slave. I + do not aspire to be treated as your equal; just an abject, reverent, + willing slave.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled and played with the ears of the sleeping Solomon. + </p> + <p> + “I am serious,” and Pats raised himself on one elbow. “Just + from plain, unvarnished gratitude–if from nothing else–I shall + always do whatever you command–live, die, steal, commit murder, + scrub floors, anything–I don’t care what.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Then stop talking.” + </p> + <p> + With closed eyes he fell back into his former position. But again, + partially raising himself, he asked, “May I say just one thing more?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Again he fell back, and there was silence. + </p> + <p> + For a time Elinor sat with folded hands gazing dreamily beyond the point + over the distant gulf, a dazzling, vivid blue beneath the July sun. When + at last she turned with a question <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_123"></a>123</span>upon her lips and saw the closed eyes and + tranquil breathing of the convalescent, she held her peace. Then came a + drowsy sense of her own fatigue. Cautiously, that the sleeper might not + awake, she also reclined, at full length, and closed her eyes. Delicious + was the soft air: restful the carpet of pine-needles. No cradle-song could + be more soothing than the muffled voices of the pines: and the lady slept. + </p> + <p> + But Pats was not asleep. He soon opened his eyes and gazed dreamily upward + among the branches overhead, then moved his eyes in her direction. For an + easier study of the inviting creature not two yards away, he partially + raised himself on an elbow. The contemplation of this lady he had found at + all times entrancing; but now, from her unconscious carelessness and + freedom she became of absorbing interest. Her dignity was asleep, as it + were: her caution forgotten. With captivated eyes he drank in the graceful + outlines of her figure beneath the white dress, the gentle movement of the + chest, the limp hands on the pine-needles. Some of the pride and reserve + of the clean-cut, patrician face–of which he stood in awe–had + melted away in slumber. + </p> + <p> + Maybe the murmur of the pines with the <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_124"></a>124</span>drowsy, languorous breeze relaxed his + conscience; at all events the contours of the upturned lips were + irresistible. Silently he rolled over once–the soft carpet of + pine-needles abetting the manœuvre–until his face was at right + angles to her own, and very near. Then cautiously and slowly he pressed + his lips to hers. This contact brought a thrill of ecstasy–an + intoxication to his senses. But the joy was brief. + </p> + <p> + More quickly than his startled wits could follow she had pushed away his + face and risen to her feet. Erect, with burning cheeks, she looked down + into his startled eyes with an expression that brought him sharply to his + senses. It was a look of amazement, of incredulity, of contempt–of + everything in short that he had hoped never to encounter in her face + again. For a moment she stood regarding him, her breast heaving, a stray + lock of hair across a hot cheek, the most distant, the most exalted, and + the most beautiful figure he had ever seen. Then, without a word, she + walked away. Across the open, sunlit space his eyes followed her, until, + through the doorway of the cottage, she disappeared. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he remained as he was, upon the ground, half reclining, + staring blankly at the <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_125"></a>125</span>doorway. + Then, slowly, he lowered himself and lay at full length along the ground, + his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + Of the flight of time he had no knowledge: but, at last, when he rose to + his feet he appeared older. He was paler. His eyes were duller. About the + mouth had come lines which seemed to indicate a painful resolution. But to + the shrunken legs he had summoned a sufficient force to carry him, without + wavering, to the cottage door. He entered and dropped, as a man uncertain + of his strength, into the nearest chair–the one beside the doorway. + Solomon, who had followed at his heels, looked up inquiringly into the + emaciated face. Its extraordinary melancholy may have alarmed him. But + Pats paid no attention to his dog. He looked at Elinor who was ironing, at + the heavy table–the dining-table–in the centre of the room. + Her sleeves were rolled back to the elbow; her head bent slightly over as + she worked. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon sun flooded the space in his vicinity and reached far along + the floor, touching the skirt of her dress. Behind her the old tapestry + with the two marble busts formed a stately background. To the new arrivals + she paid no attention. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_126"></a>126</span>After a short + rest to recover his breath, and his strength, Pats cleared his throat: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Marshall, you will never know, for I could not begin to tell + you–how sorry–how, how ashamed I am for having done–what + I did. I don’t ask you to forgive me. If you were my sister and + another man did it, I should–” He leaned back, at a loss for + words. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say it was the claret. I don’t try to excuse + myself in any way. But one thing I ask you to believe: that I did not + realize what I was doing.” + </p> + <p> + He arose and stood with his hand on the back of the chair. As he went on + his voice grew less steady. “Why, I look upon you as something + sacred; you are so much finer, higher, better than other people. In a way + I feel toward you as toward my mother’s memory; and that is a holy + thing. I could as soon insult one as the other. And I realize and shall + never forget all that you have done for me.” + </p> + <p> + In a voice over which he seemed to be losing control, he went on, more + rapidly: + </p> + <p> + “And it’s more than all that–it’s more than + gratitude and respect. I–” For an instant he hesitated, then + his words came hotly, with a reckless haste. “I love you as I never + thought <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_127"></a>127</span>of + loving any human being. It began when I first saw you on the wharf. You + don’t know what it means. Why, I could lay down my life for you–a + thousand times–and joyfully.” + </p> + <p> + From Elinor these words met with no outward recognition. She went quietly + on with her ironing. + </p> + <p> + Pats drew a deep breath, sank into his chair and muttered, in a lower + tone, “I never meant to tell you that. Now I–I–have done + it.” + </p> + <p> + During the pause that followed these last words she said, quietly, without + looking up: + </p> + <p> + “I knew it already.” + </p> + <p> + He straightened up. “Knew what already?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted a collar she was ironing and examined it, but made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “You knew what already?” he repeated. “That I was in + love with you?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, still regarding the collar. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + She laid the collar beside other collars already ironed and took up + another; but he heard no answer. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know?” he asked. “From what?” + </p> + <p> + “From various things.” + </p> + <p> + “What things?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_128"></a>128</span>There was no + reply. + </p> + <p> + “From things I did?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, rather solemnly, and her face, what he could see of it–seemed + very serious. Pats was watching her intently, and exclaimed, in surprise: + </p> + <p> + “That is very curious, for I kept it to myself!” + </p> + <p> + “Any woman would have known.” + </p> + <p> + Pats leaned back, and frowned. A torturing thought possessed him. In an + anxious tone he said: “I hope I did not talk much when I had the + fever.” + </p> + <p> + As she made no reply he studied the back of her head for some responsive + motion. But none came. + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + A look of terror came into his face and his voice grew fainter as he + asked: “Did I talk about you?” + </p> + <p> + “Freely.” + </p> + <p> + With trembling fingers he felt for his handkerchief and drew it across his + brow. “Did I say things that–that–I should be ashamed + of?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + Pats sunk lower in his chair and closed his <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_129"></a>129</span>eyes. Judging from the lines in his cadaverous + face the last three minutes had added years to his age. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind telling me,” he asked in a deferential voice, + so low that it barely reached her, “whether they were impertinent + and ungentlemanly–or–or–what?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything.” + </p> + <p> + His lips were dry, and on his face came a look of anguish–of + unspeakable shame. There was a pause, broken only by the faint sound of + the flatiron. + </p> + <p> + “Then I really talked about you–at one time?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “More than once?” + </p> + <p> + “For days together.” + </p> + <p> + Pats closed his eyes in pain, and there was a silence. Then he opened + them: “Would you mind telling me some of the things I said?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten <i>all</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “No–but I prefer not repeating them.” + </p> + <p> + On Pats’s face the look of shame deepened. In a very low voice he + said: “Please remember that I was not myself.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_130"></a>130</span>“I make + allowance for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse my asking, but if I was out of my head and irresponsible, + what could I have said to make you believe that I was–in love with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “You protested so violently that you were not.” + </p> + <p> + With unspeakable horror and humiliation Pats began to realize the awful + possibilities of that divulgence of his most secret thoughts. A cold chill + crept up his spine. He looked down at the floor, from fear that she might + glance in his direction and meet his eyes. Solomon, who felt there was + trouble in the air, came nearer and placed his cold wet snout against the + clinched hands of his master; but the hands were unresponsive. + </p> + <p> + At last, the stricken man mustered courage enough to stammer in a + constrained voice: + </p> + <p> + “It is not from curiosity I ask it, but would you mind telling me–giving + me at least some idea of what I said?” + </p> + <p> + Elinor carefully deposited a neatly folded handkerchief upon a little pile + of other handkerchiefs. Then, looking down at the table and not at Pats, + she said calmly, as she continued her work: + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_131"></a>131</span>“You + said I was a pious hypocrite–coldblooded and heartless–and a + fool. You repeated a great many times that I was superior, pretentious, + and ‘everlastingly stuck on myself,’–I think that was + the expression. Of course, I cannot repeat your own words. They were + forcible, but exceedingly profane.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “You kept mentioning three other men who could have me for all you + cared.” + </p> + <p> + Pats felt himself blushing. He frowned, grew hot, and bit his lip. Mingled + with his mortification came an impotent rage. He felt that behind her + contempt she was laughing at him. As there was a pause, he muttered + bitterly: + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + But she continued silently with her ironing. + </p> + <p> + “Please go on. Tell me more; the worst. I should like to know it.” + </p> + <p> + Raising one of the handkerchiefs higher for a closer examination, she + added: “You sang comic songs, inserting my name, and with language I + supposed no gentlemen could use.” + </p> + <p> + Pats gasped. His cheeks tingled. In shame he closed his eyes. The ticking + of the old <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_132"></a>132</span>clock + behind the door seemed to hammer his degradation still deeper into his + aching soul. As his wandering, miserable gaze encountered the marble face + of the Marshal of France he thought the old soldier was watching him in + contemptuous enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + But Elinor went on quietly with her ironing. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly into his feverish brain there came a thought, heaven-born, + inspiring. It lifted him to his feet. With a firm stride he approached the + table. No legs could have done it better. He stood beside her, but she + turned her back as she went on with the ironing. His expression was of a + man exalted, yet anxious; and he spoke in a low but unruly voice. + </p> + <p> + “You say you have known I was in love with you ever since the fever?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded slightly, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “And yet you have been very–kind, and not–not annoyed or + offended. Perhaps after all, you–you–oh, please turn around!” + </p> + <p> + But she did not turn, so he stepped around in front. Into her cheeks had + come a sudden color, and in her eyes he saw the light that lifts a lover + to the highest heaven. + </p> + <p> + It was Pat’s cry of joy and his impulsive and somewhat violent + embrace of this lady <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_133"></a>133</span>that + awakened the dog reposing by the door. Looking in the direction of the + voice Solomon seemed to see but a single figure. This was a natural + mistake. In another moment, however, he realized that extraordinary things + were happening,–that these two distinct and separate beings with a + single outline signified some momentous change in human life. Whether from + an over-mastering sympathy, from envy, delicacy, or disgust, Solomon + looked the other way. Then, thoughtfully, with drooping head, he walked + slowly out and left the lovers to themselves. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0134-image.jpg" id="img014" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_134"></a>134</span><a + id="link_10"></a>X<br /><span class="h2fs">TRAPPING A QUAIL</span> + </h2> + <p> + Happy were the days that followed. Pats, uplifted with his own joy, became + a lavish dispenser of cheerfulness and folly. Elinor, with unclouded eyes + and a warmer color in her cheeks, seemed to have drifted into the Harbor + of Serenity. Both were at peace with creation. + </p> + <p> + In pleasant weather they strolled among the pines, worked in the little + garden behind the house, fished, played upon the beach, or explored the + neighborhood. When it rained, which was seldom, they cleaned up the house, + read books and old letters, ransacking trunks and drawers trying to + discover the secret of the departed owner. But in vain. The departed owner + had been careful to leave no clew to his identity <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_135"></a>135</span>or of his reason + for abiding there. They did find, however, between the leaves of a book, a + little chart of the point done by his own hand apparently, and beneath it + was written + </p> + <div class="center"> + <p class="center"> + <i>La Pointe de Lory.</i> + </p> + </div> + <p> + So they felt they had learned the name of the place, but whether it was + the official name or one given by the old gentleman for his private use + they could not discover. + </p> + <p> + “There is a town of St. Lory in the south of France,” said + Pats. “I knew a man who came from there. Perhaps our host was from + that vicinity.” + </p> + <p> + The days went by and no sail appeared. This, however, was of slight + importance. In fact, during that first ecstatic period, nothing was + important,–that is, nothing like a ship. It was during this period + they forgot to keep tally of time, and they either lost or gained a day, + they knew not which–nor cared. + </p> + <p> + All days were good, whatever the weather. Time never dragged. With a + companion of another temperament Elinor could easily have passed moments + of depression. For a girl in her position there certainly was abundant + material for regret. But the courage and the unwavering <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_136"></a>136</span>cheerfulness of + Pats were contagious. He and melancholy were never partners. A discovery, + however, was made one morning on the little beach that, for a moment at + least, filled Elinor with misgivings. + </p> + <p> + Midway along this beach they found a bucket, rolling about on the sand, + driven here and there by the incoming waves. + </p> + <p> + “That is worth saving,” and Pats, watching his opportunity, + followed up a receding breaker and procured the prize. It resembled a + fire-bucket; and there were white letters around the centre. Elinor ran up + and stood beside him, and, as he held it aloft, turning it slowly about to + follow the words, both read aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Of–the–North–Maid.” + </p> + <p> + “Maid of the North!” exclaimed Elinor, grasping Pats by the + arm. “Oh, I hope nothing has happened to her!” + </p> + <p> + “Probably not. More likely some sailor lost it overboard.” + Then, looking up and down the beach, “There is no wreckage of any + kind. If she had blown up or struck a rock there would surely be something + more than one water-bucket to come ashore and tell us. I guess she is all + right.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_137"></a>137</span>“But + how exciting! It seems like meeting an old friend.” + </p> + <p> + She held it in her own hands. “Poor thing! You did look so + melancholy swashing about on this lonely beach.” + </p> + <p> + When they returned to the house they carried the bucket with them. + </p> + <p> + Pats had his own misgivings, however. One or two other objects he had + discerned floating on the water farther out, too far away to distinguish + what they were. And the fact that no search had been made for Elinor was + in itself disquieting. But as his chief aim at present was to bring + contentment to the girl beside him, he carefully refrained from any + betrayal of these doubts. Nothing else, however, that might cause alarm + was washed ashore. + </p> + <p> + And Pats, all this time, was growing fat. His increasing plumpness was + perceptible from day to day, and it proved a constant source of mirth to + his companion. One morning he appeared in a pair of checkered trousers + purchased in South Africa during his skeleton period. They seemed on the + verge of exploding from the outward pressure of the legs within. Elinor + made no effort to suppress her merriment. She called him “Fatsy.” + And to the dog, who <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_138"></a>138</span>regarded + the trousers with his usual solemnity, she remarked: + </p> + <div class="poetry"> + <p> + “O, Solomon!<br /> See him grow + fat!<br /> Our erstwhile skinny,<br /> Diaphanous + Pat.” + </p> + </div> + <p> + But with “Fatsy’s” flesh came increase of strength, and + he proved a hard worker. As soon as he was strong enough he began to build + the raft by which they hoped to cross the river. But progress was slow for + his endurance had limits, and he could work but an hour or two each day. + Their plan was to paddle across the river on this raft as they floated + down. Owing to the swiftness of the current they built the raft nearly a + mile farther up the stream. With the walk to and fro, which also taxed the + builder’s strength, the month of July brought little progress. One + afternoon, they sauntered home, the broad, swift, silent river on their + right, the sun just above the trees on the opposite bank. Close at hand, + on their own side of the river the nearest pines stood forth in strong + relief against the mysterious depths behind. Near the river’s bank + long shadows from these towering trunks lay in purple bars across the + smooth, brown carpet. It was about <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_139"></a>139</span>half-way home that the man, with an air of + weariness, seated himself upon a fallen tree. Elinor regarded him with an + anxious face. + </p> + <p> + “Patsy, you have done too much again.” As he looked up, she + saw in his eyes an expression she had learned to associate with levity and + foolishness. “Be serious. You are very tired, now aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Just pleasantly tired. But if I were suddenly kissed by a popular + belle it would give me new strength.” + </p> + <p> + When, a moment later, he arose, fresh life and vigor seemed certainly to + have been acquired. Catching her by the waist, he hummed a waltz and away + they floated, over the pine-needles, he in gray and she in white, like + wingless spirits of the wood. When the waltz had ended and they were + walking hand in hand, and a little out of breath, the lady remarked: + </p> + <p> + “When I am frivolous in these woods I feel very wicked. They are so + silent and reserved themselves, so solemn and so very high-minded that it + seems a desecration.” + </p> + <p> + “All wrong,” said Pats. “This is a temple built for + lovers: shady, spacious, and jammed full of mystery–and safe.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_140"></a>140</span>“But it’s + the spaciousness and mystery that make it so like a temple and suggest + serious thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to a healthy mind. Oh, no! This gloom is here for a purpose. + Pious thoughts should seek the light, but lovers need obscurity. They + always have and they always will.” + </p> + <p> + A few steps farther on he stopped and faced her, still holding her hand: + “If you will feed the hens to-night, bring in the wood and wash the + dishes, you may embrace me once again–now, right here.” + </p> + <p> + She snatched away her head. He sprang forward to catch her–but she + was away, beyond his reach. She ran on ahead and Pats, after a short + pursuit, gave up the chase, for his fallible legs were still unfit for + speed. With a mocking laugh and a wave of the hand she hastened on toward + the cottage. Following more leisurely he watched the graceful figure in + the white dress hurrying on before him until it was lost among the pines. + </p> + <p> + Just at the edge of the woods, not a hundred feet from the house, he + stopped. Standing behind a tree so that Elinor, if she came to the door, + could not see him, he whistled three notes. These notes, clear and full, + were in imitation of <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_141"></a>141</span>a + quail. And he did it exceedingly well. The imitation was masterly. + </p> + <p> + But no one appeared at the cottage door, and after a short silence he + repeated the call. + </p> + <p> + “Perfect!” + </p> + <p> + Pats started and turned about. + </p> + <p> + “A very clever hoax!” + </p> + <p> + And as Elinor stepped forth from behind a neighboring tree, there was a + look in her eyes that caused the skilful deceiver to bow his head. With a + slight movement of the hands, the palms turned outward, as if in + surrender, he offered a mute appeal for mercy. + </p> + <p> + “So you are that quail!” And slowly up and down she moved her + head as if realizing with reluctance the bitterness of the discovery. + “What fun you must have had in fooling me so often and so easily! + And the many times that I have hurried to that door and waited to hear it + again! What was my offence that you should pay me back in such a fashion?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t put it that way! Don’t speak like that!” + </p> + <p> + “And my sentiment about it! My saying that I loved the sound because + it took me back to my own home in Massachusetts–all that must have + been very amusing.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_142"></a>142</span>“Listen. + Let me explain.” + </p> + <p> + “And to keep on making me ridiculous, day after day, when I was on + the verge of collapse from pure exhaustion–yes, it showed a nice + feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “Elinor, you are very unjust. Let me tell you just how it happened. + The first morning that I could walk as far as this, you left me here at + this very spot, and you went back to the house. I was told to whistle if I + wanted anything. You remember?” + </p> + <p> + Almost perceptibly and with contempt she nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when I did whistle, I whistled in that way–like a + quail. You thought it was a real quail and you didn’t come out. When + finally you helped me back you spoke of hearing a quail, and of how much + pleasure it gave you. You hoped he would not go away.” And he smiled + humbly, as he added: “And you made me promise not to shoot him.” + </p> + <p> + She merely turned her eyes away, over the river, toward the sunset. + </p> + <p> + “And I thought then that if it gave you so much pleasure, why not + keep on with it? The Lord knows the favors a helpless invalid can bestow + are few enough! And the Lord also <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_143"></a>143</span>knows that I have no accomplishments. I cannot + sing, or play, or recite poetry. At that time I could not even start a + fire or bring in water. In fact, my sole accomplishment was to imitate a + bird. ’Tis a humble gift, but I resolved to make the most of it.” + </p> + <p> + She stood facing him, about a dozen feet away, a striking figure, with the + light from the setting sun on her white dress, the dark recesses of the + wood for a background. Into her face came no signs of relenting. But he + detected in her eyebrows a slight movement as if to maintain a frown, and + he ventured nearer, slowly, as a dog just punished manœuvres for + forgiveness. Removing his straw hat he knelt before her, his eyes upon the + ground. + </p> + <p> + “I confess to a guilty feeling every time I did it. I knew a day of + reckoning would come. But I was postponing it. I am ashamed, really + ashamed; but on my honor my motive was good. Please be merciful.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you serious?–or trying to be funny, and not really caring + much about it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am serious; very serious.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize what a contemptible trick it was–how + mean-spirited and ungrateful?” + </p> + <p> + Lower still sank his head. “I do.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_144"></a>144</span>“And + you promise never to deceive me again?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear it.” + </p> + <p> + “You value my good opinion, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather die than lose it!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you have lost it, and forever.” + </p> + <p> + From the bowed head came a groan. At this point Solomon approached the + kneeling figure and placed his nose inquiringly against the criminal’s + ear. And the criminal involuntarily shrank from the cold contact. At this + the lady smiled, but unobserved by the kneeling man. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sincerely and thoroughly ashamed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yumps.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, oh, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like your manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Please like it. I am honest now. I shall always be good.” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn’t. It isn’t in you.” + </p> + <p> + “There is going to be a mighty effort.” + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” + </p> + <p> + He obeyed. As their eyes met, he smiled, but with a frown she pointed + toward the cottage. “Turn around and walk humbly with your head + down. You are not to speak until spoken to. And you are to be in disgrace + for three days.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_145"></a>145</span>“Oh! + Three days?” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead.” + </p> + <p> + And again he obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Elinor was firm. For three days the disgrace endured. But it was not of a + nature to demolish hope or even to retard digestion. And Solomon, who was + a keen observer, displayed no unusual sympathy, and evidently failed to + realize that his master was in any serious trouble. + </p> + <p> + On pleasant evenings Pats and Elinor often went to the beach below and sat + upon the rocks, always attended by Solomon, the only chaperon at hand. + Here they were nearer the water. And one evening they found much happiness + in watching a big, round moon as it rose from the surface of the Gulf. The + silence, the shimmer of the moonlight on the waters–all tended to + draw lovers closer together. Already the heads of these two people were so + near that the faintest tone sufficed. And they murmured many things–things + strictly between themselves, that would appear of an appalling foolishness + if repeated here–or anywhere. They also talked on serious subjects; + subjects so transcendentally serious as to be of interest only by night. + Like all other lovers they exchanged <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_146"></a>146</span>confidences. Once, when Pats was speaking of + his family she suddenly withdrew her hand. “By the way, there is + something to be explained. Tell me about that interview with your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Which interview?” + </p> + <p> + “The disgraceful, murderous one.” + </p> + <p> + Pats reflected. “There were several.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Patsy! Are you so bad as that?” + </p> + <p> + “As what?” + </p> + <p> + “But you did not mean to do him injury, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> do <i>him</i> injury?” he inquired, in a mild + surprise. “Why, what are you driving at, Elinor?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the quarrel in the arbor.” + </p> + <p> + “And what happened?” + </p> + <p> + “You know very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do! But there were several quarrels. Which one do you + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean the one when you were violent–and murderous.” + </p> + <p> + “But I wasn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you were. I know all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “If you know all about it, what do you want me to tell?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell about the worst quarrel of all.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_147"></a>147</span>“That + must have been the last one.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, tell me about that.” + </p> + <p> + Pats took a long breath, then began: “The old gentleman was a hot + Catholic. There was no harm in that, you will think. And I am not such a + fool as to spoil a night like this by a religious discussion.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he insisted upon my becoming a Catholic priest. Now, for a + young man just out of college–and Harvard College at that–it + was a good deal to ask. Wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Continue.” + </p> + <p> + “One day in that summer-house he sailed away into one of his tempers–did + you ever happen to see him in that condition?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I have heard of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my mother was a Unitarian. So was I. And the gulf between a + Unitarian and a Catholic priest is about as wide as from here to that + moon. It was like asking me to become a beautiful young lady–or a + green elephant–I simply couldn’t. Perhaps you agree with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on. Don’t ask so many questions.” + </p> + <p> + “I told him, respectfully, it was impossible. Then as he made a rush + for me I saw, from his <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_148"></a>148</span>eyes + and his white face, that murder and sudden death were in the air. Being + younger I could dodge him and get away, and that so increased his fury + that he fell down on the gravel walk in a sort of convulsion–or fit. + I ran into the house for assistance, and while Sally and Martha tried to + bring him to I went for the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed this story. At last Elinor inquired if his father + persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Persisted! That question, oh, Angel Cook, shows how little you knew + my father! As soon as he recovered he lost no time in telling me to leave + the house and never see him again.” + </p> + <p> + “And what happened?” + </p> + <p> + “I vanished.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” A sympathetic pressure of his hand and the girl beside + him leaned closer still. “Horrible! So you wandered out into the + world and this is your home-coming. Well, Patsy, I shall never treat you + in that way. When you are very obstinate I shall just put my arms around + your neck and treat you very differently.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Pats, “I think it safer for you to be doing + that most of the time, anyway. It might stave off any inclination to + obstinacy.” + </p> + <p> + Here followed a snug, celestial silence, broken <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_149"></a>149</span>at last by Pats. + “Would you mind telling me, O Light of the North, where you heard I + was the attacking party at that interview?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I must not tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Father Burke make you promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you mention <i>him</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “For lots of reasons. One is that he is the only person on earth who + could possibly have told you. But it was clever of him to warn you against + me. I knew from his expression when he said good-by, on the boat, that he + thought he had settled my prospects, and to his perfect satisfaction. + However, I don’t ask you to betray him. And I bear no malice. He did + his best to undo me, but Love and all the angels were on my side.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed gently. “And you all made a strong combination, Patsy.” + </p> + <p> + Then another long silence, and soon he felt the lady leaning more heavily + against him. The head drooped and he knew she slumbered. Having no wish to + disturb her, he sat for a while without moving, and watched the moon and + thought delectable thoughts of the creature by his side. And as his + thoughts, involuntarily, and in an amiable spirit, travelled back to + Father Burke, he smiled as he pictured quite a different <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_150"></a>150</span>expression on the + face of the priest when he should learn what had happened. And the smile + seemed reflected in the radiant countenance of the big, round moon + mounting slowly in the heavens. She appeared to beam approval upon him and + upon the precious burden he supported. But with the drowsiness which soon + came stealing over him he saw–or dreamed he saw–out in the + glistening path of light between the moon and him, not far from where he + sat, an object like a human face, upturned, moving gently with the waves. + And mingling among the quivering moonbeams around the head was a silvery + halo that might be the hair of Father Burke; for the face resembled his. + </p> + <p> + Pats was startled and became wide awake. Even then, he thought he had a + glimpse of the face with its silver hair, as it drifted out of the bar of + light into the darkness, slowly, toward the sea. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0151-image.jpg" id="img015" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_151"></a>151</span><a + id="link_11"></a>XI<br /><span class="h2fs">FOOD FOR THOUGHT</span> + </h2> + <p> + There came, with August, a perceptible shortening of the days. Cooler + nights gave warning that the brief Canadian summer was nearing its end. + </p> + <p> + Pats labored on the raft, but the work was long. A float that would bear + in safety two people down the river’s current–and possibly out + to sea–demanded size and strength and weight. Felling trees, + trimming logs, and steering them down the river to the “ship-yard,” + proved a slower undertaking than had been foreseen. But nobody complained. + The air they breathed and the life they led were in themselves + annihilators of despair. It was an exhilarating, out-of-door life,–a + life of love and labor and of ecstatic repose. + </p> + <p> + Both Elinor and Pats were up with the sun, and the days were never too + long. To them it <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_152"></a>152</span>mattered + little whether the evenings were long or short or cold or warm, for by the + time the dishes were washed and the chores were done, they became too + sleepy to be of interest to each other. And when the lady retired to her + own chamber behind the tapestries, Pats, at his end of the cottage, always + whistled gently or broke the silence in one way or another as a guarantee + of distance, that she might feel a greater security. + </p> + <p> + As for lovers’ quarrels none occurred that were seriously respected + by either party. In fact there was but little to break the monotony of + that solid, absolute content with which all days began and ended. + </p> + <div class="bquote"> + <p> + “’Tis love that makes the world go round.” + </p> + </div> + <p> + There is no doubt of that, but two lovers, with unfailing appetites, + however exalted their devotion, are sure, in time, to produce conspicuous + results with any ordinary store of provisions. In the present instance the + discovery–or realization–of this truth was accidental. It came + one morning as Elinor, in a blue and white apron, with sleeves rolled up, + was preparing corn-bread at the kitchen table–so they called the + table near the fireplace at the end of <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_153"></a>153</span>the room. Pats came up from the cellar with a + face of unusual seriousness. + </p> + <p> + “I have been an awful fool!” + </p> + <p> + She looked up with her sweetest smile: + </p> + <p> + “And that troubles you, darling?” + </p> + <p> + Without replying, he laid three potatoes on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I told you to get four.” + </p> + <p> + “These are the last.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t there a second barrel?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Patsy! We both saw it!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s where I was a fool. I took it for granted the other + barrel held potatoes because it looked like the first one.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was full of something.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not potatoes. It is crockery, glassware, a magnificent + table-set. Old Sčvres, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “What a shame!” And with the back of a hand whose fingers were + covered with corn-meal, she brushed a stray lock from her face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he went on, “it’s a calamity, for we cannot + afford it. I took an account of stock while I was down there, and all we + have now in the way of vegetables is the dried apples. Of <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_154"></a>154</span>course, there’s + the garden truck,–the peas, beans, and the corn,–if it ever + ripens.” + </p> + <p> + After further conversation on that subject, Elinor said, with a sigh: + “Well, we did enjoy those baked potatoes! We shall have to eat more + eggs, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “Eggs!” and his face became distorted. “I am so chock + full of eggs now that everything looks yellow. I dream of them. I cackle + in my sleep. My whole interior is egg. I breathe and think egg. I gag when + I hear a hen.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are going to eat them all the same. We have a dozen a day, + and you must do your share.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you will.” + </p> + <p> + As Pats’s eyes fell on Solomon, he brightened up. “There’s + that dog eats only the very things we are unable to spare. Why shouldn’t + <i>he</i> eat eggs?” + </p> + <p> + “You might try and teach him.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” said Pats, “why hens should lay nothing but + eggs, always eggs? Why shouldn’t they lay pears, lemons, tomatoes,–things + we really need?” + </p> + <p> + In silence the lady continued her work. + </p> + <p> + “Angel Cook?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_155"></a>155</span>“Well?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I think, considering your years, that your conversation is + surprising. Eggs are very nourishing, and we are lucky to have them. Didn’t + I make you a nice omelette only a few days ago?” + </p> + <p> + “You did, and I never knew a better for its purpose. I still use it + for cleaning the windows.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! Well, you had better make it last, for you won’t get + another.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t be angry! I thought you meant it as a keepsake.” + </p> + <p> + He approached with repentant air, but when threatened with her doughy + hands, he retreated, and sat on the big chest by the window. This chest + had served for his bed since his convalescence. + </p> + <p> + Elinor frowned, and pointed to the fire. Pats arose and laid on a fresh + stick, then knelt upon the hearth and, with a seventeenth-century bellows, + inlaid with silver, that would have graced the drawing-room of a palace, + he coaxed the fire into a more active life. + </p> + <p> + “Now go out and bring in some wood. More small sticks. Not the big + ones.” + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0156-image.jpg" id="img016" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_156"></a>156</span><a + id="link_12"></a>XII<br /><span class="h2fs">THE WOLF AT THE DOOR</span> + </h2> + <p> + During dinner, which occurred at noon, there were fewer words that day, + and with somewhat more reflection than was usual. The store of provisions + now rapidly disappearing, together with no prospect of immediate escape, + furnished rich material for thought. Both knew the raft might prove a + treacherous reliance. Instead of landing them on the opposite bank of the + river there were excellent chances of its carrying them out to sea. And + the prevailing westerly wind was almost sure to drive them backward to the + east again. Pats had been all over this so many times in his own mind, and + with Elinor, that the subject was pretty well exhausted. But still, from + habit, he speculated. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_157"></a>157</span>“A + penny for your thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes, and as they met her own his habitual cheerfulness + returned. “My thoughts are worth more than that, for I was thinking + of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Something bad?” + </p> + <p> + “I was wondering how many days you could foot it through the + wilderness before giving out.” + </p> + <p> + “For ever, little Patsy, if you were with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we have nothing to fear. We can both march on for ever. You + are not only food and drink to me,–that is, the equivalent of + corncake, potatoes, marmalade, and claret,–but your presence is life + and strength and a spiritual tonic.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a good sentiment,” and she reached forth a hand, + which he took. + </p> + <p> + “Merely to look at you,” he continued, “will be + exhilarating on a long march. And to hear your voice, and touch you–why, + my soul becomes drunk in thinking of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you expect to be in a state of intoxication during the whole + journey?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my hope.” + </p> + <p> + It happened, a few minutes later, that she herself became preoccupied, her + eyes fixed <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_158"></a>158</span>thoughtfully + upon the little portrait on the opposite chair. + </p> + <p> + “A dollar for your thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so much?” + </p> + <p> + “Because any thought of yours,” said Pats, “is worth at + least a dollar.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “You are thinking, as usual, of that woman. The woman who has my + place.” + </p> + <p> + “It is <i>her</i> place; she had it before we came.” + </p> + <p> + “But you ought to be looking at <i>me</i> all this time. I am the + person for you to think about. I shall end by hating the woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you mustn’t be jealous. You <i>can’t</i> hate her. + Such a gentle face! And then all the mystery that goes with her! I would + give anything to know who she was.” + </p> + <p> + Pats scowled: “You would give Solomon and me, among other things.” + </p> + <p> + “No, never!” And again she extended the hand, but he frowned + upon it and drew back into the farther corner of his chair. She laughed. + “And is Fatsy really jealous?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not jealous; but hurt, disgusted, outraged, and upset.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I insist upon treating our hostess with respect and + recognizing her rights?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_159"></a>159</span>“Our + hostess! More likely some female devil who beguiled the old man. Probably + he was so ashamed of her he never dared go home again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pats! I blush for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a silly face.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a face full of character.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come now, Elinor! It would pass for a portrait of the full + moon.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the full moon has character. And I love those big merry eyes + with the funny little melancholy kind of droop at the outer corners. Poor + thing! She must have had a sad life out here in the wilderness.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + As their eyes met he frowned again, and she, for the third time, extended + the hand. “A sad life, because she had no Pats.” + </p> + <p> + But he refused the hand. “That is very clever, but too late. The + stab had already reached home.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled and began to fold her napkin. + </p> + <p> + “To return to business, Miss Marshall, of Boston, the provisions are + so low that we really must decide on something.” + </p> + <p> + “How long will they last?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps a month or six weeks. Could you <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_160"></a>160</span>pull through the + winter on eggs and dried apples–and candles?” + </p> + <p> + “If necessary.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “I believe you could! You are an angel, a Spartan, and a + sport. Your nature is simply an extravagant profusion of the highest human + attributes. And the worst of it is, you look it. You are too beautiful–in + a superior, overtopping way. You scare me.” + </p> + <p> + She pushed back her chair. “You have said all that before.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember the frog who was in love with the moon?” + </p> + <p> + She regarded him from the corners of her eyes, but made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “He used to sit in his puddle and adore her. One pleasant evening + she came down out of the sky and kissed him.” + </p> + <p> + “That was very good of her. And then what happened?” + </p> + <p> + “It killed him.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor pushed back her chair, arose from the table and stood beside him. + “Do you think it was a happy death?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it was! Lucky devil!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, close your eyes and dream that I am the moon looking down at + you.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_161"></a>161</span>With face + upturned, just enough to make it easier for the moon, Pats closed his + eyes. In serene anticipation he awaited the delectable contact that never + failed to send a thrill of pleasure through all his being. But the + tranquil, beatific smile changed swiftly to a very different expression as + he felt against his lips–a slice of dried apple. And the cold moon + stepped back beyond his reach, and laughed. + </p> + <hr class="tb" /> + <p> + When the table had been cleared and the dishes washed Pats, Elinor, and + Solomon went out behind the house and stood near the edge of the cliff. + Eastward, across the bay, Pats pointed to a distant headland running out + into the Gulf, the highest land in sight. + </p> + <p> + “As near as I can guess that hill is about twenty miles away. If + there is nothing between to hinder I can walk it in a day. Now, from that + highest point I can probably get a view for many miles. Who knows what + lies beyond? There may be a settlement very near. In that case we are + saved.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose there is none?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I return, and we are no worse off than we were before.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor stood beside him, regarding the distant <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_162"></a>162</span>promontory with + thoughtful eyes. He put his arm around her waist. “You see the sense + of it, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose so. How long would you be gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Not over three days.” + </p> + <p> + “That is, three days and two nights.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And if the ground is very rough, and there are swamps, and divers + things, it might be longer still.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly likely.” + </p> + <p> + “And what am I to do while you are gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just wait.” + </p> + <p> + She moved away and stood facing him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is like a man. Just wait! Just wait and worry. Just watch + by day and lie awake at night. Just be sick with anxiety for four or five + days. You would find me dead when you returned. Why should not I go with + you?” + </p> + <p> + He seemed surprised. Into the ever-cheerful face came a look of anxiety. + “I am afraid it would be a hard tramp for you, Angel Cook. And there + would be twice as much luggage to carry, and we should be a longer time + away.” + </p> + <p> + “I will carry my own luggage.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_163"></a>163</span>“But I + shall go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that a final decision?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, an emphatic, half-fierce little nod, and frowned. + </p> + <p> + Pats smiled. “Miss Elinor Marshall, I am, as I have before remarked, + your humble and adoring slave. Your will is law. When shall we start?” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you say.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, this time with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Early?” + </p> + <p> + “As early as you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Then at crack o’ dawn we go.” + </p> + <p> + And the next morning, at crack o’ dawn, they started off, Pats with + a knapsack so voluminous that he resembled a pedler. + </p> + <p> + Elinor thought it too much for him to carry. “You can never walk all + day with that on your back. Pedestrians that I have seen never carry such + loads.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have never seen pedestrians who carry their food and + lodgings with them. And you forget that we are not in the zone of large + hotels.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel very guilty. If I were not along you would have less to + carry.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_164"></a>164</span>“Have + no fears, Light of the North. If one of us three falls by the wayside it + will be neither Solomon nor myself.” + </p> + <p> + This knapsack consisted of three blankets,–two of flannel, one of + rubber,–some claret bottles filled with water, and food for five + days. There was also coffee and a little brandy. + </p> + <p> + As they started off, along their own little beach, the sun was just + appearing over the strip of land ahead. Solomon, in high spirits, galloped + madly about on the hard sand, with an occasional plunge among the + breakers. But Pats and Elinor, although similarly affected by the morning + air, economized their steps, for a long day’s tramp was before them. + </p> + <p> + At the eastern end of the beach, before entering the woods, both stopped + and took a final look toward home. A rosy light was on sea and land. + Beyond the beach, with its tumbling waves all aglow from the rising sun, + stood the Point of Lory, and their eyes lingered about the cottage. + Nestling peacefully among the pines, it also caught the morning light. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, little house,” said Elinor. And then, turning to Pats, + “Why, I am really sorry to leave it.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_165"></a>165</span>“So am + I, for it has given me the happiest days of my life–or of anybody’s + life.” + </p> + <p> + In and out among the trees they tramped, three hours or more, with + intervals for rest, generally through the woods, but always keeping near + the coast unless for a shorter cut across the base of some little + peninsula. Elinor stood it well and enjoyed with Pats the excitement of + discovery. After a long nooning they pushed on until nearly sunset. When + they halted for the night both explorers were still in good condition; but + the next morning, in starting off, each confessed to a stiffness in the + lower muscles. This disappeared, however, after an hour’s walking. + </p> + <p> + Early in the afternoon of this second day’s march they stood upon + the top of the hill which, from a distance, had promised a commanding + view. But they found, as so often happens to every kind of climber, that + another hill, still higher and farther on, was the one to be attained. So + they pushed ahead. Just before reaching the summit of this final hill Pats + halted. + </p> + <p> + “Now comes a critical moment. What do you think we shall see?” + </p> + <p> + Elinor shook her head sadly. “I am prepared for the worst; for the + wilderness, without a sign of human life.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_166"></a>166</span>Pats’s + ever-cheerful face took on a smile. “I suspect you are right, but I + am not admitting it officially. I prophesy that we shall look down upon a + large and very fashionable summer hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Awful thought!” And she smiled as she surveyed her own attire + and that of Pats. “What a sensation we should create! You with that + faded old flannel shirt, your two days’ beard, and those + extraordinary South African trousers; and I, sunburnt as a gypsy, with my + hair half down–” + </p> + <p> + “No hair like it in the world–” + </p> + <p> + “And this weather-beaten dress. What would they take us for?” + </p> + <p> + “For what we are–tramps, happy tramps.” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later they stood upon the summit. To the eastward, as far as + sight could reach, lay the same wild coast. For several miles every detail + of the shore stood clearly out beneath a cloudless sky. Of man or his + habitation they saw no sign. To the vast sweep of pines–like an + ocean of sombre green–there was no visible limit either to the east + or north. And southward, over the blue expanse, no sail or craft of any + kind disturbed the surface of the sea. Here and there along the coast + shone a strip of yellow beach with its fringe of glistening foam. Not far + away <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_167"></a>167</span>an + opening among the trees, extending inland for several miles, showed the + grasses of a salt marsh. + </p> + <p> + In silence Pats and Elinor gazed upon this scene. Beautiful it was, grand, + indescribably impressive; but it brought to both observers the keenest + sense of their isolation. The vastness of it, and the stillness, brought a + vague despair, and, to the girl, a sort of terror. Tears came to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Pats turned and saw them. His own face had taken on a sadder look than was + often allowed there, but his eyes met hers with their customary + cheerfulness. For the first time since their acquaintance, Elinor wept–very + gently, but she wept. All that a sympathetic and unskilful lover could do + was done by Pats. He patted her back, kissed her hair, and suggested + brandy. Her collapse, however, was of short duration. She drew back and + smiled and apologized for her weakness. + </p> + <p> + “I am ashamed of myself for breaking down. But it’s the first + time, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is; and I have wondered at your courage. But do it all the + time if you feel the least bit better.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled and shook her head. “No, I shall <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_168"></a>168</span>not collapse again. + I shall follow your example. You are always in good spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “I? Well, I should think I might be! Here I am alone in the + wilderness with the girl that all men desire,–and not a rival in + sight! Why, I am in Heaven! I had never dreamed that a fellow could have + such an existence.” + </p> + <hr class="tb" /> + <p> + When they descended the hill and started leisurely on the homeward march + two smiling faces were illumined by the western sun. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0169-image.jpg" id="img017" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_169"></a>169</span><a + id="link_13"></a>XIII<br /><span class="h2fs">THE HORN OF PLENTY</span> + </h2> + <p> + Heavy showers escorted the travellers during the last afternoon of their + homeward march. Of the trio Solomon was the wettest, for his two friends + were enfolded in a rubber blanket, drawn over their heads and shoulders + and held together in front. Thus, by walking arm in arm and keeping close + together, they escaped a soaking. But Elinor was tired, with a tendency to + sadness. This was excusable, as the failure of the expedition left the + choice of a perilous experiment on the raft or of starvation at the + cottage. Even the saturated Solomon, as he preceded them with drooping + head, seemed to have lost his buoyancy. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_170"></a>170</span>But Pats, + whatever his inward state, continued an unfailing well-spring of + cheerfulness and courage. Not a disheartening word escaped him, nor a sign + of weakening. And his efforts to enliven his companion were persistent–and + successful. Being of a hopeful and self-reliant nature this task was not + so very difficult. + </p> + <p> + At last, toward the middle of the afternoon, in rain and mist, they came + to the eastern end of their own beach. But all view was shut out. Both the + cottage and the point of land on which it stood were hidden in the fog. As + they tramped along this beach, on the hard wet sand, the wind and rain + from the open sea came strong against their faces. + </p> + <p> + “It will be good to get back,” said Elinor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I like this better,” and Pats drew the rubber + blanket a little closer still. “Our life at the cottage is too + confined; too cut and dried, too conventional and ceremonious.” + </p> + <p> + “Too much company?” + </p> + <p> + “No, just enough. But too much routine and sameness. Above all, it + is too laborious. The charm of this life is having no chores to be done. + No shaving; no floors to scrub or windows to clean.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_171"></a>171</span>“Poor + boy! And you must work doubly hard when we first get back. To begin with, + you will have to eat your half of all the eggs that have been laid.” + </p> + <p> + “Not an egg! I swear it!” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see–four days. That will make about thirty-six + eggs. You must eat eighteen this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Their heads were of necessity very close together, and as Pats with a + frown turned his face to look at her, she continued: “And to-morrow + being your birthday, you shall have a double allowance. Just think of + being thirty-one years old! Why, Patsy, it take one’s breath away.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is a stupendous thought.” + </p> + <p> + “How does it feel?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can still see and hear a little; and I am holding on to my + teeth. Of course, the lungs, liver, brain, and all the more perishable + organs have long since gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “But the heart is still there, and thumping hard and strong for the + finest woman in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the heart is everything, and you are a good boy–I mean + a good old man.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_172"></a>172</span>“Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “And as soon as we get to the cottage I shall–” She + pressed his arm, stopped suddenly, and listened. “Why, what was + that?” + </p> + <p> + “What was what?” + </p> + <p> + “Out on the water, off the point there. I heard a noise like a + steamboat.” + </p> + <p> + Both listened. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly thought so.” + </p> + <p> + Again they listened. Nothing was heard, however, except the lapping of the + waves along the beach. + </p> + <p> + At last, in a low tone, Pats muttered: + </p> + <p> + “A whole fleet might be within a mile on a day like this and nobody + know it. Are you sure it wasn’t Solomon? He is a heavy breather + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. “Very likely. With this blanket about one’s ears + anything was possible.” + </p> + <p> + They started on again. A few moments later the final shower had ceased. + Swiftly the clouds dispersed, but the mist, although illumined by the sun, + still lingered over land and sea. Solomon, followed by his friends, + climbed the gentle ascent at the end of the beach, and as they hastened + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_173"></a>173</span>on among the + pines all felt a mild excitement on approaching the cottage. + </p> + <p> + Gathered about the doorway, as if to welcome the returning travellers, + stood a few white hens and the pompous rooster. To this impressive bird + Pats took off his hat with a deferential bow. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you again, Senator.” + </p> + <p> + “Why ‘Senator’? Because nobody listens when he talks?” + Elinor had been to Washington. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and he knows so little and feels so good over it.” + </p> + <p> + From its hiding-place behind the vines, Pats took the key and opened the + door. With a military salute he stood aside, and the lady entered. He + followed; and as he unslung his knapsack Elinor looked about her with a + pleased expression. + </p> + <p> + “How rich it all is!” she exclaimed. “I had forgotten + what a splendid collection we had.” + </p> + <p> + Pats drew a long breath, as if to inhale the magnificence. + </p> + <p> + “Are you familiar with bric-ŕ-brac shops?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_174"></a>174</span>“And + with the rooms of old palaces and châteaux that are opened only when + visitors arrive?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is that smell.” + </p> + <p> + She also inhaled, and closed her eyes. “So it is.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the tapestries and old wood, and the bloom on the + paintings, I suppose. But it’s good. I like it.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a little musty, perhaps, but–” + </p> + <p> + She stopped so suddenly that Pats turned toward her. With a look of + surprise she was pointing to the dining-table, close beside them. In the + centre of this table, and very white against the dark oak, lay an + envelope. Upon it had been placed a silver spoon to prevent disturbance + from any possible gust of air through the open door. + </p> + <p> + “Some one has been here!” And she regarded Pats with startled + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Before touching the letter he instinctively cast a look about the room for + other evidence. While he was doing it, Elinor pointed toward the farther + end of the cottage, to the kitchen table, and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Look!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_175"></a>175</span>Upon that + table rested a pile of cans, boxes, and sundry packages. For a short + moment both regarded in silence this almost incredible display. Then Pats + took up the letter. On the envelope was no address–no name nor + writing whatsoever. He turned it over in his fingers. “I suppose it + is intended for the old gentleman, the owner of the place.” + </p> + <p> + “And how careful they are that nobody shall know his name.” + </p> + <p> + “There must have been several men here to bring up all these + provisions, and whoever left the letter had no intention of giving the old + gentleman away,” and Pats tossed the letter upon the table. + </p> + <p> + Elinor in turn picked it up and looked it over. “I <i>would</i> like + to know what it says.” + </p> + <p> + “So would I,” said Pats. “Let’s open it.” + </p> + <p> + “Open another man’s letter!” And she frowned. + </p> + <p> + “It may not be a letter. It may be some information as to when they + are coming again, or what he is to do about provisions or something + important for us to know. Our getting away from here may depend on what is + inside that envelope.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_176"></a>176</span>“Yes, + that is possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, open it.” + </p> + <p> + But she handed it back to him. “No, <i>you</i> must do it.” + </p> + <p> + Pats tore open the envelope. Elinor stepped nearer and stood beside him, + that she also might read. + </p> + <p> + “It is in French.” Then he began + </p> + <p> + “<i>Monsieur le Duc</i>–” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the old gentleman was a duke!” exclaimed Elinor. + </p> + <p> + “I am not surprised. You know we always suspected him of being a + howling swell. But this writing and the language are too much for me. You + really must read it.” And he put the paper in her hands. + </p> + <p> + Elinor’s French was perfect, but after the first sentence Pats + interrupted: + </p> + <p> + “Translate as you go along. It is too important to take chances + with, and I never was at home in that deceitful tongue.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_177"></a>177</span>Elinor + dropped into the chair that stood beside her. Pats sat upon the edge of + the table. + </p> + <div class="bquote"> + <p> + <span style="font-variant:small-caps">Monsieur Le Duc</span>: + </p> + <p> + It is with a grand regret that I find myself unable to pay my respects + in person to your Grace, but a broken ankle keeps me a prisoner in the + cabin. If there is anything your Grace wishes to communicate, have the + extreme goodness to send me a note by the bearer. He can be trusted. + </p> + <p> + I leave the stores following last instructions. Enclosed is the list. + The bearer will bring to me your new list from behind the door, if by + chance you are not at home. + </p> + <p style="text-align:right"> + Your Grace’s devoted servitor,<br /><span + style="font-variant:small-caps">Jacques Lafenestre</span>. + </p> + </div> + <p> + She laid the letter on the table. “What a shame! It really tells us + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a thing. Lafenestre might at least have mentioned the date of + the next visit.” + </p> + <p> + “They all seem dreadfully afraid we may learn something.” She + took up the other paper and unfolded it. “This is the list.” + </p> + <p> + Then she read: + </p> + <div class="poetry"> + <p> + “Four sacks corn-meal,<br /> Two sacks + Graham flour,<br /> Four boxes crackers,<br /> Two + barrels potatoes.” + </p> + </div> + <p> + “Those must be downstairs,” said Pats. “I see the cellar + door is open.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor continued: + </p> + <div class="poetry"> + <p> + “One box lemons,<br /> Four dozen candles,<br /> + Four dozen Pontet Canet,<br /> Six pounds tobacco–” + </p> + </div> + <p> + “Good!” said Pats. “Just what we need.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_178"></a>178</span>She went on: + </p> + <div class="poetry"> + <p> + “Four pounds coffee,<br /> Four boxes + matches,<br /> One pocket-knife,<br /> Six pairs + woollen socks,<br /> Six old maids–” + </p> + </div> + <p> + “Six <i>what</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Six old maids: <i>vieilles filles</i>–that is certainly old + maids.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but, Heavens! What does he want so many for? And where are + they? In the cellar?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, still regarding the paper. “But you needn’t worry. + They are something to wear. It says six old maids, extra thick and double + length.” + </p> + <p> + “Double length! Well, each man to his taste. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all,” and she dropped the paper on the table and + looked up into his face. Thoughtfully he stroked the three days’ + beard upon his chin. He was watching through the open door the last clouds + of mist as they floated by, driven before the wind. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he jumped to his feet. “Then you were right about the boat! + You <i>did</i> hear one. And it was here an hour ago!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_179"></a>179</span>Quickly he + snatched a shotgun from the wall, rushed out of the house, down to the + edge of the point and discharged one of the barrels. He shouted at the top + of his voice, fired the second barrel and shouted again. For a few moments + he stood looking off into the slowly dissolving fog, listening vainly for + an answering sound. + </p> + <p> + Elinor joined him. + </p> + <p> + “I know it’s of no use,” he said, “for the wind is + in the wrong direction. But I thought I would try it.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later the final cloud of mist in which they stood was swept away, + giving a clear view over all the waters to the south. And they saw, + disappearing toward the west, around a promontory, a speck upon the blue + horizon, and behind it a line of smoke. + </p> + <p> + In a melancholy silence both watched this far-away handful of vapor until + it faded into space. When no trace remained of the vanished craft, Pats + dropped the empty gun, slowly turned his head and regarded his companion. + In Elinor’s eyes, as they met his own, he recognized a gallant + effort at suppressing tears. Remembering her resolve of yesterday he + smiled,–a smile of admiration, of gratitude, and encouragement. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_180"></a>180</span>She also + smiled, for she read his thoughts. And something more was plainly written + in his face,–that self-effacing, immortal thing that lovers live on; + and it shone clear and honest from this lover’s eyes. Whereupon she + stepped forward; he gathered her in his arms, and an ancient ceremony was + observed,–very ancient, indeed, primitive and easily executed. + </p> + <p> + Solomon, weary of this oft-repeated scene, looked away with something like + a sigh, then closed his eyes in patience. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0181-image.jpg" id="img018" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_181"></a>181</span><a + id="link_14"></a>XIV<br /><span class="h2fs">PILGRIMS</span> + </h2> + <p> + Another June. + </p> + <p> + Along the northern shore of the St. Lawrence Gulf, through the cold, gray + light of early dawn, a yacht was steaming eastward. + </p> + <p> + Leaning against the rail, near the bow, a woman with eager eyes watched + the elusive coast. But this coast, in the spreading light, was rapidly + revealing itself, becoming less ethereal, more savage and majestic. The + woman was daintily attired. Every detail of her apparel, from the Parisian + hat to the perfect-fitting shoes, while simple and designed expressly <i>pour + le voyage</i>, was sumptuous in its simplicity. Although about thirty-five + years of age, her round, rather wide face, graceful figure, and vivacious + expression would have made deception <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_182"></a>182</span>easy if she cared to practise it. In feelings, + in manner, and in appearance, she was eighteen. And she would never be + older. A peculiar droop at the outer corners of two large and very dark + eyes, and a mouth–too small for the face–with a slight and + rather infantile projection of the upper lip gave a plaintive, + half-melancholy expression to an otherwise merry and youthful face. + </p> + <p> + Behind her, pacing to and fro, a strongly built, elderly man with heavy + face and heavy hands, also watched the coast. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Voila, Jacques</i>!” and the lady pointed to a promontory + in front, just revealed by the vanishing mist. “<i>Le voila, n’est-ce + pas</i>?” + </p> + <p> + The man stepped forward and stood beside her. After a careful scrutiny he + replied, also in French: + </p> + <p> + “Truly, I think it is.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ah, le bonheur</i>! At last! And how soon shall we land?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, stroking the end of his nose with a stubby finger. “In + less than two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “In less than two hours! Absurd! You mean to say in less than twenty + minutes, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_183"></a>183</span>He shrugged + his shoulders in respectful protestation. “But, Princess, deign to + remember that we are still some miles from this headland, and that + Monsieur, your father, is yet farther away,–some fifteen miles, at + the very end of the bay which lies beyond.” + </p> + <p> + She frowned and turned away. “Are we going as fast as possible?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you are not sure of it, Jacques, go down and tell that + engineer to enliven his exasperating machinery. Make everything turn + faster, or I shall jump into the sea and swim ahead. It is of a slowness + to rend the nerves.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques Lafenestre moved away to carry out this order. From his youth up + he had served this lady and her parents. And when the father, for + excellent reasons, left France in haste and came into the wilderness, the + old servant followed. Later on he settled in Quebec as keeper of an inn. + And ever since that day he had maintained communication with his master. + </p> + <p> + As the Princess walked impatiently up and down the deck, erect and with + elastic tread, often looking at her watch and frowning, she gave the + impression of a commanding little person, <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_184"></a>184</span>much accustomed to having her own way–and + with no talent for resignation. And when, a few moments later, another + individual appeared upon the deck, a tall, thin, dark-robed ecclesiastic, + evidently of high degree, with fine features and a stately bearing, she + hastened to express her annoyance. To his polite greeting she replied + rapidly: + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, your Grace; but tell me, did you ever see anything + like this boat? Did you ever imagine a thing could crawl with such a + slowness–such a slowness? I shall die of it! I believe the screw is + working backwards.” + </p> + <p> + The Archbishop smiled,–that is, his mouth lengthened, for mirth and + he were strangers,–“But it seems to me we move, Princess, and + quite rapidly.” + </p> + <p> + “Rapidly! Well, never mind. Time and the wind will get us there. But + why are you up so early? This is an hour when gentlemen are abed.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the misfortune! For you may have a hard day. Remember, you are + to do your best, and use your strongest arguments. You will need them. My + father is wilful.” + </p> + <p> + “Have no fears, Princess, I shall do all in my <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_185"></a>185</span>power, for the + cause seems righteous. The Duc de Fontrévault is, as you say, too old a + man to be left alone under such conditions.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely! And you are the one of all others to convince him. He will + not listen to the rest of us. And don’t fail to impress upon him his + duty to his family. That is your strongest point, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and that now he can return with safety.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “No, do not rely too much on that, for he loves + his wilderness. And he has known for a long time all danger was past. + Better attack his conscience, and his sense of duty.” + </p> + <p> + “As you say, Princess. And I shall spare no effort.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will succeed.” And looking up with a smile, “You + could convince anybody of anything, dear Archbishop. A few words from you, + if you could only get him alone, and the devil himself would turn over a + new leaf–perhaps join the Church. Who knows?” + </p> + <p> + For these sentiments his Grace had no responsive smile. This lady from + Paris, while a good Catholic, seemed to have so little reverence for + certain sanctities that he was always on his <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_186"></a>186</span>guard. Her nature was not of the sort he + preferred to deal with. There were too many conflicting elements. No one + could tell with precision just when she was serious or when she was having + a little fun. And, moreover, the dignity of an archbishop was not a thing + to be compromised. But she was a <i>grande dame</i>, a person of great + influence–also of great wealth and a free giver. And the Archbishop + was no fool. + </p> + <p> + As they rounded the promontory and came in sight of the bay the emotion of + the Princess was apparent. Impatiently she walked the deck. With the sun + once fairly above the water, the little point of land at the farther end + of the bay showed clearly in the morning light. + </p> + <p> + She beckoned the old servant to her side. + </p> + <p> + “There it is, Jacques! I see distinctly the cottage, a little mass + of green against the shadows of the pines. And surely there is smoke from + the chimney! My father is an early riser; already up and cooking his + breakfast. Is it not so, Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do not doubt Monsieur le Duc cooks his breakfast at this + moment.” + </p> + <p> + “What enormous trees!” she went on. “Beautiful, + beautiful! And they stretch away <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_187"></a>187</span>forever. An ocean of pines! I had forgotten + they were so tall–so gigantic. How many minutes now, Jacques, before + we arrive?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques frowned and shrugged his heavy shoulders. “I shall not tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Wicked old man!” + </p> + <p> + And again, through her glass, she studied the coast. + </p> + <p> + He had carried this lady in his arms before she could walk; he had + superintended, in a way, her childhood; and so, like many old servants in + France, he was not expected to bear in mind, at all times, certain + differences in birth. + </p> + <p> + With a fresh enthusiasm she exclaimed: “And there, down below, to + the right, is the little beach–the ravishing little beach! How I + loved it! Here, take the glasses, Jacques, and regard it.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques regarded. “Yes, it is a good beach.” + </p> + <p> + She dropped the glasses in their case, folded the daintily gloved hands + upon the rail, and for several moments gazed in silence at the coast in + front. Her face, in repose, became somewhat sadder, and now there was a + moisture in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me again, Jacques, just how long it is since you were here?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_188"></a>188</span>“Eight + months.” + </p> + <p> + “Much can happen in eight months.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, without doubt, but then it is to be remembered that when I was + here last, in the month of September–all went well.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not see him yourself, however.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my broken ankle kept me aboard, but those who went ashore with + the provisions brought a good report.” + </p> + <p> + “But they did not <i>see</i> him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, for he was away, probably on one of his hunting trips. But why + disquiet yourself, Princess? We see the smoke rising from the chimney.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is true. You have reason.” + </p> + <p> + When, at last, they arrived, the Princess was one of the first to land, + and she hastened up the narrow path to the grove above. Although in haste + to greet her father, she paused among the big trees to inhale the piney + fragrance. With a smile of rapture she gazed upward and about. These old + friends! How unchanged! And how many years they carried her back! As a + very little girl her imagination had revelled without restraint and, to + her heart’s desire, in this enchanted grove. And now she was + listening to the old-time murmurings, high above–the <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_189"></a>189</span>same plaintive + whispering–the familiar voices, never to be forgotten–that + told her everything a little girl could wish to hear, and whenever she + cared to hear it. + </p> + <p> + But she lingered for a moment only. With eager steps she hurried toward + the cottage–picturing to herself an old gentleman’s amazement + when he recognized his visitor. + </p> + <p> + The door was open. She stood upon the threshold and looked in–and + listened. No sound came to her ears except from the old clock behind the + door. How familiar this solemn warning of the passing time! It seemed a + part of her youth, left behind and suddenly found again. But her heart was + beating many times faster than the stately ticking of this passionless + machine. Silently she entered and stood beside the table. She saw the + hangings, the pictures, the busts, the furniture, precisely as she had + known them, years ago. + </p> + <p> + From behind the tapestry came a sound, faintly, as of some one moving. She + smiled and there was a quivering of the lips. Then, in a low but clear + voice, she said: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Petit pčre</i>” + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0190-image.jpg" id="img019" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_190"></a>190</span><a + id="link_15"></a>XV<br /><span class="h2fs">REVELATIONS</span> + </h2> + <p> + The rustle of a sudden movement–and an exclamation half suppressed–came + from within the chamber. Then the tapestry was pushed aside. + </p> + <p> + The Princess, at sight of the figure that emerged, took a backward step, + her smile of welcome supplanted by a look of wonder. Another woman stood + before her, also pausing in surprise, a hand still holding the tapestry. + This woman was young and slight of figure, erect, dark-haired, and + sunburned. In a single glance the quick eye of the Princess took in a + number of details. She noticed that the stranger wore a jacket so faded + that no trace of its original color remained; that the skirt, equally + faded, was also stained and patched. But to the critical Parisian it was + obvious that these garments, although threadbare, frayed, and + weather-beaten, fitted extremely well. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_191"></a>191</span>Now, while + the Princess was the more surprised of the two, the girl in the faded + garments experienced a greater bewilderment. For this visitor bore a + startling resemblance to the miniature,–the wife whose grave was + among the pines. And Elinor stared, as if half awake, at the round face, + the drooping eyes, and the very familiar features of this sudden guest. + Even the arrangement of the hair was unchanged, and the infantile mouth + appeared exactly as depicted in the little portrait that hung beside her. + Had this portrait come to life and stood near its own chair, the effect + would have been the same. + </p> + <p> + But the lady from Paris was the first to find her voice. In French, with + somewhat frigid politeness, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Mademoiselle; I expected to find another person here.” + </p> + <p> + Also in French the girl replied: + </p> + <p> + “Madame is the daughter, perhaps, of the gentleman who lived here?” + </p> + <p> + The Princess, with her head, made a slight affirmative movement. And she + frowned more from anxiety than resentment as she asked: “You say <i>lived</i> + here. Does he not live here now?” + </p> + <p> + And she read in the face before her, from <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_192"></a>192</span>its sympathy and sadness, the answer she + dreaded. + </p> + <p> + Elinor, before replying, came nearer to the table. “Do you speak + English?” + </p> + <p> + The Princess nodded, and seated herself in the chair of the miniature, and + with clasped hands and a pale face, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “He is–dead?” + </p> + <p> + Elinor took the opposite chair. “May I tell you about it in English? + I can do it more easily and better than in French.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly. And tell me all–everything.” + </p> + <p> + Bravely the Princess listened. The tears flowed as she heard the story, + pressing her handkerchief to her eyes, and even trying to smile at times + in grateful sympathy for the narrator’s efforts at consolation. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how he looked the day you found him. Did he seem to have + been–ill–to have suffered?” + </p> + <p> + “We thought him asleep. There was no trace of suffering. The color + of his face surprised us.” + </p> + <p> + When the story of his burial was finished, the Princess rose from her + seat, came around and stood by Elinor, and took her hand. “I <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_193"></a>193</span>owe you so much. + You were very good and considerate. I am grateful, very grateful. He was + unfortunate in his life. It is a consolation to know his death was happy, + and that he was reverently buried.” + </p> + <p> + Then Elinor, after hesitating, decided to ask a question. + </p> + <p> + “If it is no secret, and if you care to do it, would you mind + telling me why he came across the water, out here in the forest, and lived + in such a way?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly! And even if it were a secret I should tell you. In the + first place, he was the Duc de Fontrévault, a very good name in France, as + perhaps you know. He fell in love–oh, so fiercely in love!–with + a lady who was to marry–well, who was betrothed to a king. It sounds + like a fairy tale, <i>n’est-ce pas</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “It does, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + The Princess was now sitting on the arm of Elinor’s chair, looking + down into her face, in a motherly, or elder sisterly, sort of way. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you would know all about the king if I told you. He died only + the other day, so you will soon guess him. <i>C’était un vaurien, un + imbécile</i>. My father not only loved this–” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, abruptly, leaning forward with <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_194"></a>194</span>one hand upon the table. “<i>Mais, Mon + Dieu!</i> there is my portrait! My old miniature of twenty years ago! How + came it there?” And she pointed to the opposite chair. + </p> + <p> + “We found it hanging there when we came, and have never disturbed + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You found it hanging there, on the back of that chair?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “My own chair–where I used to sit! So, then, I was always + before him!” + </p> + <p> + Elinor nodded. In the eyes of the Princess came fresh tears. She undertook + to say more, but failed; and getting up, she walked around the table and + dropped into Pats’s chair, gurgling something in French about the <i>petit + pčre</i>. Then she broke down completely, buried her face in her hands, + and made no effort to control her grief. + </p> + <p> + When she recovered composure, her self-reproaches were bitter for allowing + so many years to go by without a visit to this devoted parent. Smiling as + she dried her eyes,–the eyes with the drooping corners, old friends + to Elinor,–she said: “You, also, had me for a guest all this + time.” + </p> + <p> + “No, for a hostess. It is your house.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_195"></a>195</span>“And + where do <i>you</i> sit?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, where I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have been your <i>vis-ŕ-vis</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The Princess smiled. “Well, my face must be terribly familiar to + you. Perhaps you recognized me at first?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I supposed you must be his daughter. But we believed the + portrait to be your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “How amusing! But poor mamma! there is no portrait of her here. She + came away in too much of a hurry to stop for trifles.” + </p> + <p> + She studied the miniature in silence, then, leaning back in her chair: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Mais, voyons!</i> I was telling something.” + </p> + <p> + “About your father–why he came here.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes! Well, for a man to marry, or try to marry–or to + dream of marrying–a princess formally betrothed to a king was <i>quelque + chose d’inouďe</i>. But he was badly brought up, this little father + of mine: always having his own way,–<i>un enfant gâté</i>,–you + know, a child made worse–a child damaged–hurt–what am I + trying to say?” + </p> + <p> + “A spoiled child.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! But the King also was a spoiled child, which is to be + expected in a king. <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_196"></a>196</span>However, + that did not smooth things for my little father, as the King was beside + himself with rage–furious, wild!” + </p> + <p> + “He was jealous?” + </p> + <p> + The Princess laughed–more of a triumphant chuckle than a laugh. + “And well he had reason!” + </p> + <p> + “Then the lady preferred your father to the King?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Mon Dieu!</i> She had eyes.” Then, with a slight motion of + a hand: “And she had sense.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor smiled. “But a king is a great catch.” + </p> + <p> + The little lady shrugged her shoulders. “That made nothing to her. + She was as good as the King. She was a <i>grande</i> princess. Not an + every-day princess, like me.” + </p> + <p> + “Are <i>you</i> a princess?” Elinor asked in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an ordinary princess–the common, every-day kind. But <i>she</i> + was a <i>princesse royale</i>. And so he did this.” With a + comprehensive gesture of both her hands she indicated the tapestries, + paintings, busts, furniture, and the entire contents of the house. + </p> + <p> + “You mean he brought his own possessions off here, across the water?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_197"></a>197</span>“And + did he bring the Princess with him?” + </p> + <p> + “What a question! It is evident, Mademoiselle, that you were not + acquainted with my father, the Duc de Fontrévault.” + </p> + <p> + “Then this princess was your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is her grave out there, beneath the pines, next to his?” + </p> + <p> + The Princess nodded, and blinked, but smiled: “Poor mamma! She only + lived a few years after that; I was nine when she died.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you born here?” + </p> + <p> + “In there.” And she glanced toward Elinor’s chamber. + </p> + <p> + “You must have had a lonely childhood.” + </p> + <p> + “No. In those days we had a servant–and a cow.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should your father and mother escape to this wilderness? + Surely a woman may marry whom she pleases in these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. But an agent was sent to arrest my father–on a + legal pretext–and in the quarrel this agent–also a gentleman + of high rank–was killed. So that was murder. Just what his Majesty + wished, perhaps. And my father, in haste, packed a few things on a ship + and disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_198"></a>198</span>“A few + things!” + </p> + <p> + “The King never knew where he went. Nor did any one else. But enough + of myself and family. Tell me of your coming here. And of your friend. Is + she still here?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend was a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + The Princess raised her eyebrows, involuntarily. “Pardon me if I am + indiscreet, but you are not married?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Now this Parisian, with other Europeans, had heard startling tales about + American girls; of their independence and of their amazing freedom. She + leaned forward, a lively curiosity in her face. To her shame be it said + that she was always entertained by a sprightly scandal, and seldom + shocked. + </p> + <p> + “How interesting! And this gentleman, was he young?” + </p> + <p> + But the American girl did not reply at once. She had divined her companion’s + thoughts and was distressed, and provoked. This feeling of resentment, + however, she repressed as she could not, in justice, blame the Princess–nor + anybody else–for being reasonably surprised. So, she began at the + beginning and told the tale: of <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_199"></a>199</span>the stupid error by which she was left with a + man she hardly knew on this point of land; of their desperate effort to + escape in September, by taking to a raft and floating down the river; how + they failed to land and were carried out to sea, nearly perishing from + exposure. She described their reaching shore at last, several miles to the + east. And when she spoke of the early snow, in October, of the violent + storms and the long winter, the Princess nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember those winters well. But we were happy, my father + and I.” + </p> + <p> + “And so were we,” said Elinor. + </p> + <p> + “Then this stranger turned out well? A gentleman, a man of honor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, oh, yes! And more than that. He gave his life for mine.” + </p> + <p> + From the look which came into Elinor’s face, and from a quiver in + the voice, the sympathetic visitor knew there was a deeper feeling than + had been expressed. She said, gently: + </p> + <p> + “You are tired now. Tell me the rest of the story later.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I will tell you now. One morning, about a month ago, the + first pleasant day after a week of rain, we started off along the bank of + the river to see if the flood had carried <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_200"></a>200</span>away our raft–the new one. Just out + there, in the woods, not far from here, I stepped to the edge of the bank + and looked down at the water. The river was higher than we had ever seen + it,–fuller, swifter, with logs and bushes in it. Even big trees came + along, all rushing to the sea at an awful speed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know that river in spring. The water is yellow, and with a + frightful current,–fascinating to watch, but it terrifies.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor nodded. “Fascinating to watch, yes. But Pats told me–” + </p> + <p> + “Pats?” + </p> + <p> + “My friend. His name was Patrick.” + </p> + <p> + “And Pats is the little name–the familiar–for Patrick?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I never knew that! But pardon me. Please go on.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me to come back–that the bank was undermined by the + river and might give way. He said: ‘Whoever enters that river to-day + leaves hope behind.’ At the very instant I started back the earth + under me gave way, and–and, well, I went down to the river and under + the water–an awful distance. I thought I should never come up again. + But I did come <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_201"></a>201</span>up + at last, gasping, half dead, several yards from the shore. The current was + carrying me down the river, but I saw Pats on the bank above, watching me. + His face was pale and he was hurrying along to keep near. Oh, how I envied + him, up there, alive and safe!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child! I can well believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “He cried out, ‘Try and swim toward the shore! Try hard!’ + And I tried, but was carried along so fast that I seemed to make no + headway. Then I saw him run on ahead, pull off his shoes and outer + clothes, slide down the bank and shoot out into the water toward me.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” exclaimed the listener. “Bravo! That was + splendid!” And in her enthusiasm she rose, and sat down again. + </p> + <p> + Elinor sank back in her chair. But the Princess was leaning forward with + wide open eyes and parted lips. + </p> + <p> + “Then what happened?” + </p> + <p> + “He reached me, caught me with one hand by my dress between the + shoulders, and told me again to swim hard for the shore. It seemed + hopeless, at first, for the current was frightful–oh, frightful! It + washed us under and tried to carry us out again. But Pats pushed hard, + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_202"></a>202</span>and after an + awful struggle–it seemed a lifetime–we we reached the shore.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, good!” + </p> + <p> + But in the speaker’s face there came no enthusiasm. She closed her + eyes, leaning back in her chair as if from physical weakness. The Princess + got up, and once more came and stood by the girl’s chair, and gently + patted a shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the rest later. There is no haste.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall feel better for telling it now. I started to climb up the + bank. It was steep, all stones and gravel, and a few little bushes. The + stones gave way and kept letting me down–slipping backward. He was + still in the water. I heard him tell me to go slow and not hurry. He was + very calm, and his voice came up from beneath me, for–” and + here she laughed, a little hysterical laugh–more of a sob than a + laugh, as if from over-taxed nerves–“for I seemed to be + sitting on his head.” + </p> + <p> + The Princess also laughed, responsively. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never know just how it happened, but in one of my struggles + the whole bank seemed to slide from under me into the river. I clung to a + bush and called to him, and tried to look down, but–he was gone.” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed. The Princess rested her <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_203"></a>203</span>cheek against Elinor’s hair, and + murmured words of comfort. “How long ago did this happen?” + </p> + <p> + “A month ago.” + </p> + <p> + More from sympathy than from conviction the Princess said: + </p> + <p> + “He may return. Stranger things have happened. Perhaps he was + carried out to sea–and rescued.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor shook her head. “He was buried beneath the rocks and gravel. + If he had risen to the surface, I should have seen him, for the day was + clear. No, I know where he is. I see him, all night long, in my sleep, + lying at the bottom of the river, his face looking up.” + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said the Princess, “listen. With your sorrow + you have precious memories. From what you have <i>not</i> told me of your + Pats, I know him well. He loved you. That is clear. You loved him. That is + also clear. Alone with him in this cottage through an endless winter, and + perfectly happy! <i>Voyons</i>, you confessed all when you said ‘we + were happy!’ He was the man of a woman’s heart! With no + hesitation, he gave his life for yours: to save you or die with you. Tell + me, what can Heaven offer that is better than a love like that?” + </p> + <p> + She closed her eyes and drew a long breath. <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_204"></a>204</span>“Ah, these Americans! These + extraordinary husbands! I have done nothing but hear of them!” + </p> + <p> + “He was not my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “But he was to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” + </p> + <p> + The Princess rose, walked around the table and stood beside the chair that + held her portrait. + </p> + <p> + “My child, I respect your grief. My heart bleeds for you, but you + are to be envied.” With uplifted eyebrows, and her head slightly to + one side, she went on: “My husband, the Prince de Champvalliers is + good. We adore one another. As a husband he is satisfactory,–better + than most. But if, by chance, I should fall into a river, with death in + its current, and he were safe and dry upon the bank–” + </p> + <p> + Sadly she smiled, and with a shrug of the shoulders turned about and moved + away. + </p> + <p> + Erect, and with a jaunty step, she walked about the room, renewing + acquaintance with old friends of her youth: with the little tapestried + fables on the chairs and sofa; with certain portraits and smaller + articles. But it was evident that the story she had heard still occupied + her mind, for presently she came back to the table <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_205"></a>205</span>and stood in front + of Elinor. With a slight movement of the head, as if to emphasize her + words, she said, impressively, yet with the suggestion of a smile in her + half-closed eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Were I in your place, my child, I should grieve and weep. Yes, I + should grieve and weep; but I should enjoy my sorrow. You are still young. + You take too much for granted. You are too young to realize the number of + women in the world who would gladly exchange their living husbands for + such a memory.” She raised her eyebrows, closed her eyes, and + murmured, with a long, luxurious sigh: “The heroism! the splendid + sacrifice! I tell you, Mademoiselle, no woman lives in vain who inspires + in an earthly lover a devotion such as that!” + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0206-image.jpg" id="img020" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_206"></a>206</span><a + id="link_16"></a>XVI<br /><span class="h2fs">NEWS FROM THE WORLD</span> + </h2> + <p> + Jacqes soon appeared. As his knowledge of English was scant, the Princess + gave him the story she herself had heard. Great was his horror on learning + that when last he came–in September–and left the usual + provisions, the Duc de Fontrévault had been in his grave since the + previous June. + </p> + <p> + He asked many questions. Elinor told him everything that could be of + interest, and the Princess listened eagerly to these replies. The old + servant seemed pleased when Elinor turned to him with a smile and said, in + his own language: “So you are the French Fairy. That is what we + always called you after finding your letter. Our lives were saved by that + unexpected supply of food.” + </p> + <p> + Then they talked of other matters,–of what things should be carried + back to France. <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_207"></a>207</span>And + as the strength and energy of the American girl seemed to have gone–owing, + perhaps, to a too meagre diet–the Princess insisted upon having her + own maid sent up to pack the trunks. Jacques departed on this errand, and + to get one or two men. He soon returned with them, and accompanied by the + Archbishop. With a half-suspicious interest His Grace studied this young + woman, still seated in her usual place by the table, her eyes, with a + listless gaze, following the daughter of the house as she opened drawers + and cabinets. + </p> + <p> + His Grace was standing by the big tapestry, between the two busts, his + hands behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, my child,” he said with a deep-toned benevolence, + calculated to impress the guiltless and to awe the guilty, “but what + I find it difficult to understand is why your friends did not look for + you. They certainly must have guessed the situation.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor shook her head gently, as if she also recognized the mystery. + </p> + <p> + “To what do you attribute this singular indifference to your fate on + the part of your family and friends?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot guess. I have no idea.” + </p> + <p> + “It was purely accidental your–your arrival here?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_208"></a>208</span>“Naturally.” + </p> + <p> + In this reply there was something that smote the Archbishop’s + dignity. It seemed verging upon impertinence. Again he scrutinized the + faded garments, the sunburned face, the hands somewhat roughened by toil, + now folded on the table before her. His perceptions in feminine matters + were less acute than those of the Princess. He remembered a young man had + been a companion to this girl in this cottage, and during a whole year. It + was only natural that the Princess, in treating this person with so much + consideration, should be misled by a very tender, romantic heart, and by a + Parisian standard of morality too elastic and too easy-going for more + orthodox Christians. Into his manner came a suggestion of these thoughts,–his + tone was less gracious, a trifle more patronizing. But as the victim + supposed this to be his usual bearing, she felt no resentment. + </p> + <p> + “It was certainly a most unprecedented–one might almost say, + incredible–blunder. And in daylight, too.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Do I understand that you came here in a steamboat?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_209"></a>209</span>“And + the steamboat, after leaving you and the young man, kept on her course + toward Quebec?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the name of the boat?” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Maid of the North</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Maid of the North</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Elinor took no notice of this exclamation of surprise. In a purely amiable + manner she was becoming tired. + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Maid of the North</i>, did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my child, when was that? When were you left here?” + </p> + <p> + With a sigh of weariness, she replied: “A year ago this month, on + the ninth of June.” + </p> + <p> + “The ninth of June,” he repeated, in a lower tone, more to + himself than to her. “Why–then, she was lost between this + point and Quebec.” + </p> + <p> + “Lost?” + </p> + <p> + And Elinor looked up at him with startled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Then he added: “But I see that you could not have + known it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean the <i>Maid of the North</i> never reached Quebec?” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_210"></a>210</span>“Nothing + has been heard of her since the eighth of last June. On that day she was + spoken by another steamer near the Magdalen Islands.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor had risen from her chair, and stood leaning against the table. + “That is horrible! horrible! It does not seem possible! What do they + think became of her?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knows. There are several theories, but nothing is certain. + You are probably the only survivor.” + </p> + <p> + “But were there no traces of her,–no wreckage, nothing to give + a clew?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + With drooping head and a hand across her eyes, she murmured: “Poor + Louise! And my uncle–and Father Burke!” And she sank back into + her chair. + </p> + <p> + The Archbishop took a step nearer. “Did you know Father Burke?” + </p> + <p> + “He was a dear friend.” + </p> + <p> + At this reply the eyebrows of the holy man were elevated. A light broke in + upon him. With a manner more sympathetic than heretofore–and less + patronizing–he said gently: + </p> + <p> + “Father Burke was a dear friend of mine, also,–an irreparable + loss to the Church and to all <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_211"></a>211</span>who knew him. Is it possible you are the young + lady whom he held in such high esteem and affection, and of whom he wrote + to me? Were you in his spiritual charge, with thoughts of a convent?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + Into his face came a look of joy. Then, in a voice brimming over with + tenderness and paternal sympathy: + </p> + <p> + “I cannot express my pleasure, my heartfelt gratitude, that you have + been spared us. Of your exalted character and of your holy aspirations our + dear friend spoke repeatedly. And now, in your hour of affliction, it will + be not only the duty, but the joy and privilege of our Holy Church to + serve you as counsellor and guide.” + </p> + <p> + As the girl made no reply, he went on, in a subdued and gently modulated + voice: + </p> + <p> + “At this time more than ever before, you must need the consolation + of Religion. Am I not right in believing that you feel a deeper yearning + for the closer love and protection of our Heavenly Father, for that + security and peace which the outer world can never offer? And too well we + know that the outer world is uncharitable and cruel. It might look askance + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_212"></a>212</span>upon this + strange adventure. But the arms of Our Mother are ever open. You are + always her daughter, and with <i>her</i> there is nothing to forgive. All + is love, and faith, and peace.” + </p> + <p> + To this deeply religious girl, now stricken and weary, whose heart was + numbed with grief, whose hope was crushed, these words came as a voice + from Heaven. She held forth a hand which the prelate held in both his own. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my child.” + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0213-image.jpg" id="img021" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_213"></a>213</span><a + id="link_17"></a>XVII<br /><span class="h2fs">VOICES OF THE WOOD</span> + </h2> + <p> + When the Princess realized the somewhat famished condition of her new + acquaintance she ordered a tempting lunch from the yacht, and had it + served in the cottage: fresh meat, with fruit, vegetables, and cream and + butter–new dishes among the Pines of Lory! Of this repast the + Archbishop partook with spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Truly an invigorating air. What an appetite it gives!” And he + devoured the viands with a priestly relish, but always with arch-episcopal + dignity. The person, however, for whom the meal was served leaned back + wearily in her chair, barely tasting the different dishes. + </p> + <p> + “You will starve, my child,” said the Princess, gently. + “Really, you must eat something to keep alive.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_214"></a>214</span>The effort + was made, but with little success. And in Elinor’s face her friend + divined an over-mastering grief. + </p> + <p> + The two women, after lunch, strolled out among the pines, toward the bench + by the river. It became evident to the Princess, from the manner in which + her companion leaned upon her arm, that days of fasting–and of + sorrow–had diminished her strength. Upon the rustic bench Elinor + sank with a sigh of relief. But into her face came a smile of gratitude as + her eyes met those of the little lady who stood before her, and who was + looking down with tender sympathy. + </p> + <p> + To Elinor’s description of how she and Pats found the old gentleman + reclining upon this same bench, the Princess gave the closest attention. + Every detail was made clear by the narrator, who took the same position at + the end of the seat, crossing her knees and leaning a cheek upon one hand, + as if asleep. Then the Princess, after asking many questions, took the + vacant place beside her and they sat in silence, looking across the river, + to the woods beyond. To both women came mournful thoughts, yet with + pleasant memories. And soothing to the spirit of each was the murmur of + the woods. <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_215"></a>215</span>To + Elinor this plaint of the pines was always a consoling friend: a sad but + soothing lullaby which now had become a part of her existence. It recalled + a year of priceless memories. But these memories of late had become an + unbearable pain,–yet a pain to which she clung. + </p> + <p> + For the Princess, also, there were memories, stirred by these voices + overhead, but softened by time. Hers was not the anguish of a recent + sorrow. + </p> + <p> + From these day-dreams, however, she was brusquely awakened. With no word + of warning, the girl at her side had sprung to her feet and faced about. + Into her face had come a look of unspeakable joy. Her lips were parted in + excitement, and a sudden color was in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + This transformation from deepest grief to an overpowering ecstasy alarmed + her companion. And in Elinor’s eyes there was a feverish eagerness, + intense, almost delirious, as she exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “You heard it?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “That sound! The notes of a quail!” + </p> + <p> + The Princess shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you heard it! Don’t say you did not hear it!” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_216"></a>216</span>Then, when + the Princess, still looking up in vague alarm, gently shook her head a + second time, Elinor reached forth a hand imploringly, as it were, and + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “You must have heard it. The whistle of a quail, back there in the + woods?” + </p> + <p> + To the little woman upon the bench these words had no significance, but + her sympathy was aroused. That sensitive nerves and an aching heart should + succumb, at last, to despair and loneliness and fasting she could readily + understand, and she answered, kindly: + </p> + <p> + “I heard no bird, dear child, but it may be there. Perhaps your + hearing is better than mine.” + </p> + <p> + At this reply all the joy went out of Elinor’s face, leaving a look + so spiritless and despairing that her friend, who could only guess at her + companion’s thoughts, added: + </p> + <p> + “Or it may be nothing. You merely dreamed it, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor straightened up. She drew a long breath, and murmured, in a low + voice from which all hope had fled: + </p> + <p> + “Of course! I dreamed it,” and sank wearily into her place + upon the bench. + </p> + <p> + Furtively, but with pity in her face, the Princess <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_217"></a>217</span>regarded the + drooping head and closed eyes; then she stood up and placed a hand + affectionately upon Elinor’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I understand your feelings. Rest here until the boat goes.” + </p> + <p> + Indicating, with a wave of her hand, the big trees towering high above, + she added: + </p> + <p> + “Your last moments with these old friends shall be respected. I am + going to the two graves over there, and will return before it is time to + start.” + </p> + <p> + She walked away, into the grove. + </p> + <p> + Again, among the shadows of these pines, came memories of her childhood, + with the feeling of being alone in a vast cathedral. And the fragrance, + how she loved it! And she loved this obscurity, always impressive and + always solemn, yet filling her soul with a dreamy joy. + </p> + <p> + In her passage between the columns of this shadowy temple she stopped and + turned about for a parting glance at her friend. In the same position, her + head upon her hand, Elinor still sat motionless, a picture of patient + suffering. For a moment the Princess watched her in silence, then slowly + turned about and started once again upon her way. Only a step, however, + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_218"></a>218</span>had she taken + when the color fled from her cheeks and she halted with a gasp of terror. + Gladly would she have concealed herself behind the nearest tree, but she + dared not move. + </p> + <p> + In the gloom of the forest, scarcely a dozen yards away, a figure was + moving silently across her path in the direction of the cottage. Such a + figure she had seen in pictures, but never in the flesh. The North + American savage she always dreaded as a child; and once, at a French fair, + she had seen a wild man. This creature recalled them both. He was brown of + color, with disorderly hair and stubby beard, and no covering to his body + except strips of cloth, faded and in rags, suspended from one shoulder, + held at the waist by a cord, and dangling in tatters about his legs. + Bending slightly forward as he walked–or rather glided–among + the pines, he was peering eagerly in the direction of the house. Had his + gaze been less intent, he would have seen this other figure, the woman + watching him in silent terror. Furtively she glanced about the grove to + see if other creatures were stealing from tree to tree. But she failed to + discover them. + </p> + <p> + Now the Princess, while fashionable and frivolous, <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_219"></a>219</span>and reprehensible + in many ways, was not devoid of courage. And her conscience told her to + give warning to her friends. This heroic decision was swiftly made. In + making it, however, her cheeks grew paler. + </p> + <p> + But she was spared the sacrifice. As she drew in her breath for the + perilous attempt, she saw the man himself stand still and straighten up. + Then, before she could utter the warning,–before her own little + mouth was ready,–the shadowy silence of the wood was broken, not by + the dreaded warwhoop, but by an imitation, startlingly perfect, of the + notes of a quail. + </p> + <p> + That this was a signal to his followers she had no doubt. But suddenly, + while these clear notes were yet in the air, the stillness of the pines + was again disturbed by a cry–a cry of joy, intense and uncontrolled–from + behind her, toward the river. She turned about. In astonishment she saw + the grief-stricken maiden–a moment ago too weak to walk alone–already + lifted from the rustic bench as by a heavenly hand, now flying in this + direction over the brown carpet of the pines, swift and light of foot, + with wings, it seemed. The savage, too, had heard the cry and already he + was running toward the approaching figure. And he passed <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_220"></a>220</span>so near the + Princess that he would have seen her had he wished. + </p> + <p> + They met, the wild man and the girl. And the mystified spectator–mystified + for a moment only–saw the maiden fling herself upon this denizen of + the wood and twine her arms about his neck. And he, with a passionate + eagerness, embraced her, then held her at arms’ length, that again + he might draw her to him, kissing her hair, mouth, forehead. + </p> + <p> + From the rapturous confusion of exclamations, of questions interrupted and + unanswered, the Princess understood. For a moment she looked on in wonder, + fascinated by this astounding miracle. But she soon recovered. With a lump + in her throat she began backing away, to escape unobserved. Elinor, + through her tears, happened to see the movement and came forward, leading + the savage by the hand. With a new light in her eyes, and her voice all + a-quiver, she exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “This is my Pats!” + </p> + <p> + The Princess courtesied. + </p> + <p> + “And, Pats, this is the Princess–the Princess de + Champvalliers: our girl of the miniature.” + </p> + <p> + Pats nodded–for he recognized the eyes <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_221"></a>221</span>with the drooping corners–and he smiled + and bowed. And the Princess, as she looked into his face and forgot the + wild hair and scrubby beard, the stains, the rags, and the nakedness, met + a pair of unusually cheerful, honest eyes, and impulsively held out her + hand. + </p> + <hr class="pb" /> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/p0222-image.jpg" id="img022" alt="" /> + </div> + <h2> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_222"></a>222</span><a + id="link_18"></a>XVIII<br /><span class="h2fs">A NUNNERY?</span> + </h2> + <p> + In very few words Pats told his story. + </p> + <p> + As Elinor had believed, he was forced beneath the water by the sliding + earth and stones; but instead of lying at the bottom he had been carried + by the under-current far out toward the middle of the river. On coming to + the surface, more dead than alive, he found himself among the branches of + an uprooted pine, also speeding toward the sea, at the mercy of the + torrent. + </p> + <p> + Numb with cold from the icy water, he clung to this friend all one day and + night, ever drifting toward the Gulf. At last, when rescued, he was barely + conscious. And on recovering his wits he found himself aboard a Government + coaster just starting on a two months’ cruise. + </p> + <p> + “I insisted on being landed. They refused at first, but when I told + them the situation–of <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_223"></a>223</span>the + solitary girl I was leaving alone in the wilderness,–they not only + put me ashore, but gave me all the provisions I could carry.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo! A boat-load of lovers!” exclaimed the Princess. + “And they did well!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed they did!” said Pats, “for they were pressed for + time, and it cost them several hours. So, in high spirits, I started + westward along the coast, expecting to get here in three or four days.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to Elinor: “Do you remember the wide marsh we noticed + from the top of that farthest hill to the east, at the end of our journey + last autumn?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember. We thought it the mouth of a river.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it <i>was</i> the mouth of a river, with a vengeance. That + marsh extends for miles on both sides of a river as impassable as ours. + Ten days I tramped northward up the farther bank. And then, in swimming + across, I lost nearly all my provisions, and most of my clothes.” + </p> + <p> + With a slight bow to the Princess, he added, “I hope madam will + pardon these intimate details: also certain deficiencies in my present + toilet.” + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_224"></a>224</span>“Make + no apologies, and tell everything,” she answered, “I am one of + the family.” + </p> + <p> + Pats continued: “During nine days I travelled south, retracing my + steps, but on this side of the river. The woods are different up there, + with a maddening undergrowth, and it soon made an end of what clothes I + had left. Yesterday morning I saw the sea again.” + </p> + <p> + To every word of this narrative Elinor had listened, absorbed and + self-forgetful. As for the Princess, she loved the unexpected, and here + she found it. The more she studied Pats, the better she liked him and his + cheerfulness,–a cheerfulness which seemed to rise triumphant above + all human hardship. She took an interest in his unkempt hair and barbaric, + four weeks’ beard, in his scratched and sunburnt chest and arms. + Even in the tattered remnants of his clothes she found a certain + entertainment. And she noticed that while he stood talking in the presence + of two ladies he appeared unembarrassed by his semi-nakedness, perhaps + from the habit of it. And, after all, what cause for embarrassment? How + many times, on the beach at Trouville, had she conversed with gentlemen + who wore even less upon their persons? + </p> + <p> + Another surprise was given her when a brown <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a + id="page_225"></a>225</span>setter, from somewhere in the forest, came + flying toward them, and threw himself upon the long lost Pats. And the dog’s + delight at the meeting was similar to Elinor’s. He, in turn, was + presented to the Princess, who patted his head. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Bon jour, Monsieur Solomon</i>. I am happy to meet you: and for + your enthusiasm I have the profoundest regard.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as they all started toward the cottage, Pats still answering Elinor’s + questions, there appeared among the pines a black figure which recalled + pictures of Dante in the forest of Ravenna. This figure halted in surprise + at sight of the half-naked savage approaching with an easy + self-possession, a lady on either side. And evidently the savage was a + welcome object–a thing of interest–of affection even, if + outward signs were trustworthy. And his Grace, when presented to this + uncouth object, made no effort at assuming joy. Whether from an + unfamiliarity with wild men, or from some other reason, this creature + proved offensive to him. The lately lamented lover appeared politely + indifferent to the priest’s opinion,–good or bad,–and + this so augmented his Grace’s irritation that his words of welcome + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_226"></a>226</span>displayed + more dignity than warmth. After proper congratulations on the return of + her friend, he said to Elinor, in impressive tones, with a fatherly + benevolence: + </p> + <p> + “We always rejoice when a human life is saved, but it would prove a + sad misfortune, indeed, should it cause you to falter in your high resolve + and return to worldly affairs.” + </p> + <p> + Elinor instinctively edged a little closer to Pats and slid a hand in one + of his,–a movement observed by the Princess. + </p> + <p> + His Grace, with yet greater impressiveness in tone and manner, added: + </p> + <p> + “Yours is not a nature to forget or lightly ignore a pledge once + given. And please understand, my dear child, it is for your spiritual + future that I remind you of your solemn words to our dear friend–to + him who is no longer here to recall them to you, and whose beneficent + influence is forever gone.” + </p> + <p> + Into Elinor’s face had come a look of pain, for these words to a + conscience such as hers were as so many stabs. Pats frowned. Still + clasping the fingers that had slid among his own, and with a slight upward + movement of the chin, he took one step forward toward the prelate. But + before he could speak the Princess acted quickly, <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_227"></a>227</span>to avert a scene. + In a vivacious, off-hand manner, yet with a certain easy authority, she + said, smiling pleasantly in turn upon her three listeners: + </p> + <p> + “You speak of a convent? Ah, your Grace forgets something! Religion + is a mighty thing. We all know that. But there is one thing mightier–and + here are two of its victims. ’T is the thing that makes the world go + round. You know what it is. Oh, yes, you know! And it has made archbishops + go round, too; even Popes–and many times! And when once it gets you–well! + <i>il s’en moque de la réligion et de touts les Saints</i>–for + it has a heaven of its own. Moreover, we must not forget, your Grace and + I, that this unconventional gentleman–” + </p> + <p> + Here she turned a mirthful glance upon Pats and his rags, and he smiled as + his eyes met hers: + </p> + <p> + “That our unconventional gentleman has already tried to give his + life for this girl. Moreover, he will do it again, whenever necessary, and + she is not likely to forget it.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed not, if truth were in the look that came to Elinor’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Princess,” said the Archbishop, “this is not <span + class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_228"></a>228</span>a matter for + argument. It is a question to be decided by the lady’s own + conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have made no promise,” said Elinor. “I told + Father Burke it was my intention to enter a convent. It was merely the + expression of a wish–not in the nature of a binding promise.” + </p> + <p> + “But to me,” said Pats, smiling pleasantly upon the + Archbishop, “she <i>did</i> make a binding promise–a very + definite promise of a matrimonial nature. If she enters a convent–I + go too.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the Princess laughed,–a gentle, merry laugh, spontaneous + and involuntary. “A nunnery with a bridal chamber! <i>Fi, l’horreur</i>! + Imagine the effect on the other sisters!” + </p> + <p> + At this utterance the Archbishop closed his eyes in reprobation. Then, + with a paternal air he regarded Elinor. “Dear lady, I have no desire + to argue, or to persuade you against your wishes–or against the + wishes of your friends. Pardon me if I have appeared insistent. I only ask + that you will not forget that our Church is your Church–that in + sorrow and in trouble, and at all times, her arms are open to you.” + </p> + <p> + Then addressing the Princess: “I am the bearer of a message from + Jacques Lafenestre. <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_229"></a>229</span>The + baggage is aboard, and the yacht can sail whenever your Highness is ready.” + </p> + <p> + With a ceremonious bow–ceremoniously returned by the group before + him–his Grace strode slowly away toward the little path that led to + the beach. The Princess also–after handing to Pats the key of the + house–moved away in the direction of the two graves, promising the + lovers another half hour for their parting visit to the cottage. She had + gone but a few steps, however, when she stopped and wheeled about as if + moved by a sudden thought. + </p> + <p> + “You know well the tapestry that screens the chamber. The scene in + the Garden of Eden?” + </p> + <p> + Both nodded; and Pats exclaimed: “The most entertaining work of art + I have ever seen!” + </p> + <p> + “I give it for my wedding present, so that Madame Pats may have a + portrait of her husband as he appeared when first I met him.” + </p> + <p> + With a smile and a nod she turned away and the jaunty figure was soon lost + among the trees. + </p> + <p> + Once more alone, Pats and Elinor turned and looked into each other’s + eyes; and both discovered an overflowing happiness that choked all words–and + all attempt at words. + </p> + <p> + <span class="pagenum pncolor"><a id="page_230"></a>230</span>Pats opened + his arms. As of old, she entered, and the familiar rite was observed. + </p> + <p> + The surrounding silence remained unbroken. But in the murmuring of the + pines, in that floating music now dear to both, there came to the reunited + lovers a subdued but universal rejoicing–felicitations from above. + </p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/r0001-image.jpg" id="img023" alt="" /> + </div> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <hr class="full" /> + <p> + ***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PINES OF LORY*** + </p> + <p> + ******* This file should be named 30600-h.txt or 30600-h.zip ******* + </p> + <p> + This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> <a + href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/6/0/30600">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/0/30600</a> + </p> + <p> + Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be + renamed. + </p> + <p> + Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one + owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and + you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission + and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the + General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and + distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT + GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered + trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you + receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of + this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook + for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, + performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given + away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. + Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial + redistribution. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/30600-h/images/f0002-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/f0002-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d26846 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/f0002-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/f0003-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/f0003-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..74fa659 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/f0003-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/f0005-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/f0005-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c01edf1 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/f0005-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/f0007-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/f0007-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..55871da --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/f0007-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0009-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0009-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2bf9a14 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0009-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0020-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0020-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..599aff8 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0020-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0036-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0036-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3ae92a --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0036-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0049-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0049-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd81ed5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0049-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0064-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0064-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f7aef8 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0064-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0085-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0085-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e897de --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0085-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0098-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0098-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b29df54 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0098-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0106-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0106-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..acd1f22 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0106-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0113-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0113-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f7b694 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0113-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0134-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0134-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3212bf6 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0134-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0151-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0151-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4aa99f --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0151-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0156-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0156-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6be836 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0156-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0169-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0169-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..874a02b --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0169-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0181-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0181-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0791a7c --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0181-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0190-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0190-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..23d7be8 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0190-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0206-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0206-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a12799 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0206-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0213-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0213-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..12e01e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0213-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/p0222-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/p0222-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6b4e7c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/p0222-image.jpg diff --git a/30600-h/images/r0001-image.jpg b/30600-h/images/r0001-image.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a18fb6 --- /dev/null +++ b/30600-h/images/r0001-image.jpg |
