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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34282-8.txt b/34282-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9281963 --- /dev/null +++ b/34282-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12082 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jupiter Lights, by Constance Fenimore Woolson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jupiter Lights + +Author: Constance Fenimore Woolson + +Release Date: November 11, 2010 [EBook #34282] +[Last updated: April 28, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUPITER LIGHTS *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +JUPITER LIGHTS + +A Novel + +BY + +CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON + +AUTHOR OF "ANNE" "EAST ANGELS" "FOR THE MAJOR" ETC. + +NEW YORK +HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE +1889 + +Copyright, 1889, by HARPER & BROTHERS. + +_All rights reserved_. + + + + +JUPITER LIGHTS. + + + + +I. + + +"It's extraordinary navigation, certainly," said Miss Bruce. + +"Oh, mem, if you please, isn't it better than the hother?" answered +Meadows, respectfully. + +Meadows was Miss Bruce's maid; one could have told that she was English +(even if one had not heard her speak) from her fresh, rosy complexion, +her smooth hair put plainly and primly back from her forehead, her +stiff-backed figure with its elbows out, and her large, thick-soled +boots. + +"I don't mind being 'umped-up on the bank, miss, if you please," she +went on in her sweet voice, dropping her h's (and adding them, too) in +unexpected places. "It's those great waves we 'ad last week, mem, if you +please, that seemed so horful." + +"I am sorry you will have to see them again so soon," Miss Bruce +answered, kindly. + +For Meadows was to return to England immediately; she was accompanying +the American lady for the journey only. Miss Bruce was not rich; in her +own land she did not intend to give herself the luxury of a +lady's-maid--an indulgence more unusual in the great Republic (at least +the northern half of it) than fine clothes, finer houses, or the finest +diamonds. + +The little steamboat which carried these travellers was aground in a +green plain, a grassy, reedy prairie, which extended unbroken as far as +the eye could reach on all sides save one; here there was, at some +distance, a bank or shore of dark land, dark in comparison with the +green. Beyond this shore--and one could easily see over it--stretched +the sea, "the real sea," as Miss Bruce called it, "and not all this +grass!" It was this remark of hers which had drawn out the protest of +poor Meadows. + +Miss Bruce had crossed from England to New York; she had then journeyed +southward, also by sea, to Savannah, and from that leafy town, as fair +as is its name, she had continued her voyage in this little boat, the +_Altamaha_, by what was called the Inland Route, a queer, amusing +passage, winding in and out among the sounds and bays, the lagoons and +marsh channels of the coast, the ocean almost always in sight on the +left side, visible over the low islands which constantly succeeded each +other, and which formed the barrier that kept out the "real sea," that +ravaging, ramping, rolling, disturbing surface upon whose terrific +inequalities the Inland Route relied for its own patronage. There were +no inequalities here, certainly, unless one counted as such the +sensation which Meadows had described as "being 'umped up." The channel +was very narrow, and as it wound with apparent aimlessness hither and +thither in the salt-marsh, it made every now and then such a short turn, +doubling upon itself, that the steamer, small as she was, could only +pass it by running ashore, and then allowing her bows to be hauled +round ignominiously by the crew in a row-boat; while thus ashore, one +side half out of water, her passengers, sitting on that side, had the +sensation which the English girl had pictured. At present the _Altamaha_ +had not run herself aground purposely, but by accident; the crew did not +descend to the row-boat this time, but, coming up on deck, armed with +long poles, whose ends they inserted in the near bank with an air of +being accustomed to it, they shoved the little craft into deep water +with a series of pushes which kept time to their chorus of + + "Ger-long! Ger-long! _Mo_-ses!" + +"I don't see how we are to get on here at all at night," said Miss +Bruce. + +But before night the marsh ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the +_Altamaha_ was gliding onward again between banks equally low and near, +but made of solid earth, not reeds. The sun sank in the west, the +gorgeous colors of the American sunset flamed in the sky. The returning +American welcomed them. She was not happy; she was as far as possible +from being what is called amiable; but for the moment she admired, +forgetting her own griefs. Then the after-glow faded; Meadows brought a +shawl from their tiny cabin and folded it round her mistress; it was the +23d of December, and the evening air was cool, but not cold. By-and-by +in the dusky twilight a gleam shone out ahead, like an immense star. + +"What is that, captain?" Miss Bruce asked, as this official happened to +pass near her chair. + +"That? Jupiter Light." + +"Then we must be near Warwick?" She gave to the name its English +pronunciation, the only one she knew. + +The captain declined to say whether they were near it or not, as it was +a place he had never heard of. "The next landing is War-wick," he +announced, impersonally, pronouncing the name according to its spelling. + +"So near?" said Miss Bruce, rising. + +"No hurry. Ain't there yet." + +And so it proved. A moon rose, and with it a mist. The _Altamaha_, +ceasing her nosing progress through the little channels, turned sharply +eastward, and seemed suddenly to have entered the ocean, for great waves +began to toss her and knock her about with more and more violence, until +at last the only steady thing in sight was the blazing star of Jupiter +Light, which still shone calmly ahead. After half an hour of this rough +progress a low beach presented itself through the mist, and the blazing +star disappeared, its place being taken by a spectral tower, tall and +white, which stood alone at the end of a long curving tongue of sand. +The steamer, with due caution, drew near a lonely little pier. + +"It isn't much of a place, then?" said Miss Bruce, as the captain, in +the exigencies of making a safe landing with his cockle-shell, again +paused for a moment near her chair. + +"Place? Post-office and Romney; that's all. Slacken off that line +there--you hear? Slacken, I tell you!" + +A moment later the traveller, having made her way with difficulty +through the little boat's dark, wet, hissing lower regions, emerged, and +crossed a plank to the somewhat safer footing beyond. + +"Is this Cicely?" she asked, as a small figure came to meet her. + +"Yes, I am Cicely." + +Eve Bruce extended her hand. But Cicely put up her face for a warmer +greeting. + +"Are those your trunks? Oh, you have brought some one with you?" + +"It's only Meadows, my maid; she goes back to-morrow when the boat +returns." + +"There's room for her, if you mean that; the house is large enough for +anything. I was only wondering what our people would make of her; they +have never seen a white servant in their lives." + +"You didn't bring--the baby?" asked Eve Bruce. + +"Jack? Oh, no; Jack's asleep." + +Eve quivered at the name. + +"Are you cold?" said Cicely. "We'll start as soon as that hissing boat +gets off. I hope you don't mind riding behind a mule? Oh, look!" and she +seized her companion's arm. "Uncle Abram is shocked that your maid--what +did you call her--Fields?--should be carrying anything--a white lady, as +he supposes; and he is trying to take the bag away from her. She's +evidently frightened; Pomp and Plato haven't as many clothes on as they +might have, I acknowledge. Oh, do look!" + +Eve, still quivering, glanced mechanically in the direction indicated. + +A short negro, an old man with abnormally long arms, was endeavoring to +take from Meadows's grasp a small hand-bag which she was carrying. Again +and again he tried, and the girl repulsed him. Two more negroes +approached, and lifted one of the trunks which she was guarding. She +followed the trunk; and now Uncle Abram, coming round on the other +side, tried to get possession of a larger bag which she held in her left +hand. She wrenched it from him several times desperately, and then, as +he still persisted, she used it as a missile over the side of his head, +and began to shriek and run. + +The noise of the hissing steam prevented Miss Bruce from calling to her +distracted handmaid. + +Cicely laughed and laughed. "I didn't expect anything half so funny," +she said. + +The little _Altamaha_ now backed out from the pier into rough water +again, and the hissing ceased. Besides the dark heaving waves, the tall +light-house, and the beach, there was now nothing to be seen but a row +of white sand-hills which blocked the view towards the north. + +"This is the sea-shore, isn't it?" said Eve. As she asked her question +her voice had in her own ears a horribly false sound; she was speaking +merely for the sake of saying something; Cicely's "I didn't expect +anything half so funny" had hurt her like the edge of a knife. + +"Oh, no; this isn't the sea; this is the Sound," Cicely answered. "The +sea is round on the other side. You will hear it often enough at Romney; +it booms dreadfully after a storm." + +Plato and Pomp now emerged from the mist, each leading a mule; one of +these animals was attached to a wagon which had two seats, and the other +to a rough cart. + +"Will you get in, please?" said Cicely, going towards the wagon. "I +reckon your maid had better come with us." + +"Meadows! Meadows!" called Miss Bruce. "Never mind the luggage; it is +quite safe. You are to come with us in this wagon." + +"Yes, mem," responded the English voice. The girl had ceased running; +but she still stood guard over the trunks. "And shall I bring the +dressing-bags with me, mem?" she added. + +"She is bringing them whether or no," said her mistress; "I knew she +would. She likes to pretend that one contains a gold-mounted +dressing-case and the other a jewel-casket; she is accustomed to such +things, and considers them the proper appendages of a lady." Her voice +still had to herself a forced sound. But Cicely noticed nothing. + +The two ladies climbed into the wagon and placed themselves on the back +seat; Meadows, still hugging the supposed treasures, mounted gingerly to +her place beside Uncle Abram, disarmed a little by his low brows; and +then, after some persuasion, the mule was induced to start, the cart +with the luggage following behind, Plato and Pomp beside it. The road +was deeply covered with sand; both mules could do no more than walk. At +last, after passing the barrier of sand-hills, they came to firmer +ground; bushes began to appear, and then low trees. The trees all +slanted westward. + +"The wind," Cicely explained. + +The drive lasted half an hour. "Meadows, put down those bags," said Eve; +"they are too heavy for you. But not too near Mrs. Bruce--to trouble +her." + +The wagon was passing between two high gate-posts (there was no gate); +it entered an avenue bordered with trees whose boughs met overhead, +shutting out the moonlight. But Uncle Abram knew the way; and so did the +mule, who conducted his wagon over the remaining space, and up to the +porch of a large low house, in a sudden wild gallop. "Hi-yi!" said Uncle +Abram, warningly; "All ri', den, ef yer wanter," he added, rattling the +reins. "Lippity-clip!" + +The visitor's eyes perceived lights, an open door, and two figures +waiting within. The wagon stopped, and Meadows dismounted from her +perch. But Cicely, before following her, put her face close to Eve's, +and whispered: "I'd better tell you now, so that you won't call me that +again--before the others: I'm not Mrs. Bruce any longer; my name is +Morrison. I married Ferdinand Morrison six months ago." After this +stupefying declaration she pressed Eve's hand, and, jumping lightly to +the ground, called out, "Bring the steps, some of you." + +There was a sudden dispersion of the group of negroes near the porch; a +horse-block with a flight of steps attached was brought, and placed in +position for the visitor's descent. It appeared that she needed this +assistance, for she had remained motionless in the wagon, making no +effort to follow Cicely's example. Now she descended, jealously aided by +Meadows, who had retained but one clear idea amid all these +bewilderments of night-drives with half-dressed blacks and mad mules +through a desert of sand, and that was to do all in her power for the +unfortunate lady whom for the moment she was serving; for what must her +sufferings be--to come from Hayling Hall to this! + +"Here is Eve," Cicely said, leading the visitor up the steps. + +The white-haired man and the tall woman who had been waiting within, +came forward. + +"Grandpa," said Cicely, by way of introduction. "And Aunt Sabrina." + +"My father, Judge Abercrombie," said the tall lady, correctingly. Then +she put her arms round Eve and kissed her. "You are very welcome, my +dear. But how cold your hands are, even through your gloves! Dilsey, +make a fire." + +"I am not cold," Eve answered. + +But she looked so ill that the judge hastily offered her his arm. + +She did not accept it. "It is nothing," she said. Anger now came to her +aid, Cicely's announcement had stunned her. "I am perfectly well," she +went on, in a clear voice. "It has been a long voyage, and that, you +know, is tiresome. But now that it is over, I shall soon be myself +again, and able to continue my journey." + +"Continue! Are you going any further, then?" inquired Miss Abercrombie, +mildly. "I had hoped--we have all hoped--that you would spend a long +time with us." Miss Abercrombie had a soft voice with melancholy +cadences; her tones had no rising inflections; all her sentences died +gently away. + +"You are very kind. It will be impossible," Miss Bruce responded, +briefly. + +While speaking these words they had passed down the hall and entered a +large room on the right. A negro woman on her knees was hastily lighting +a fire on the hearth, and, in another moment, the brilliant blaze, +leaping up, made a great cheer. Cicely had disappeared. Judge +Abercrombie, discomfited by the visitor's manner, rolled forward an +arm-chair vaguely, and then stood rubbing his hands by the fire, while +his daughter began to untie Miss Bruce's bonnet strings. + +"Thanks; I will not take it off now. Later, when I go to my room." And +the visitor moved away from the friendly fingers. Miss Sabrina was very +near-sighted. She drew her eye-glasses furtively from her pocket, and, +turning her back for an instant, put them on; she wished to have a +clearer view of John Bruce's sister. She saw before her a woman of +thirty (as she judged her to be; in reality Eve was twenty-eight), tall, +broad-shouldered, slender, with golden hair and a very white face. The +eyes were long and rather narrow; they were dark blue in color, and they +were not pleasant eyes--so Miss Sabrina thought; their expression was +both angry and cold. The cheeks were thin, the outline of the features +bold. The mouth was distinctly ugly, the full lips prominent, the +expression sullen. At this moment Cicely entered, carrying a little +child, a boy of two years, attired only in his little white night-gown; +his blue eyes were brilliant with excitement, his curls, rumpled by +sleep, was flattened down on one side of his head and much fluffed up on +the other. The young mother came running across the slippery floor, and +put him into Miss Bruce's arms. "There he is," she said--"there's your +little Jack. He knows you; I have talked to him about you scores of +times." + +The child, half afraid, put up a dimpled hand and stroked Eve's cheek. +"Auntie?" he lisped, inquiringly. Then, after inspecting her carefully, +still keeping up the gentle little stroke, he announced with decision, +"Ess; Aunty Eve!" + +Eve drew him close, and hid her face on his bright hair. Then she rose +hurriedly, holding him in her arms, and, with an involuntary motion, +moved away from Cicely, looking about the room as if in search of +another place, and finally taking refuge beside Miss Sabrina, drawing a +low chair towards her with the same unseeing action and sinking into it, +the baby held to her breast. + +Tall Miss Sabrina seemed to understand; she put one arm round their +guest. Cicely, thus deserted, laughed. Then she went to her grandfather, +put her arm in his, and they left the room together. When the door had +closed after them, Eve raised her eyes. "He is the image of Jack!" she +said. + +"Yes, I know it," answered Miss Sabrina. "And I knew how it would affect +you, my dear. But I think it is a comfort that he does look like him; +don't you? And now you must not talk any more about going away, but stay +here with us and love him." + +"Stay!" said Eve. She rose, and made a motion as if she were going to +give the child to her companion. But little Jack put up his hand again, +and stroked her cheek; he was crooning meanwhile to himself composedly a +little song of his own invention; it was evident that he would never be +afraid of her again. Eve kissed him. "Do you think she would give him to +me?" she asked, hungrily. "She cannot care for him--not as I do." + +Miss Sabrina drew herself up (in the excess of her sympathy, as well as +near-sightedness, she had been leaning so far forward that her flat +breast had rested almost on her knees). "Give up her child--her own +child? My niece? I think not; I certainly think not." She took off her +glasses and put them in her pocket decisively. + +"Then I shall take him from her. And you must help me. What will she +care in a month from now--a year? She has already forgotten his father." + +Miss Sabrina was still angry. But she herself had not liked her niece's +second marriage. "The simplest way would be to stay here for the +present," she said, temporizing. + +"Stay here? Now? How can you ask it?" + +Tears rose in the elder lady's eyes; she began to wipe them away +clandestinely one by one with her long taper finger. "It's a desolate +place now, I know; but it's very peaceful. The garden is pretty. And we +hoped that you wouldn't mind. We even hoped that you would like it a +little--the child being here. We would do all we could. Of course I know +it isn't much." + +These murmured words in the melancholy voice seemed to rouse in Eve +Bruce an even more stormy passion than before. She went to Miss Sabrina +and took hold of her shoulder. "Do you think I can stand seeing _him_," +she demanded--"here--in Jack's place? If I could, I would go to-night." +Turning away, she broke into tearless sobs. "Oh Jack--Jack--" + +Light dawned at last in Sabrina Abercrombie's mind. "You mean Mr. +Morrison?" she said, hurriedly rising. "You didn't know, then? Cicely +didn't tell you?" + +"She told me that she had married again; nothing more. Six months ago. +She let me come here--you let me come here--without knowing it." + +"Oh, I thought you knew it," said Miss Sabrina, in distress. "I did not +like the marriage myself, Miss Bruce; I assure you I did not. I was very +fond of John, and it seemed too sudden. If she had only waited the +year--and two years would have been so much more appropriate. I go there +very often--to John's grave--indeed I do; it is as dear to me as the +graves of my own family, and I keep the grass cut very carefully; I will +show you. You remember when I wrote you that second time? I feared it +then, though I was not sure, and I tried to prepare you a little by +saying that the baby was now your chief interest, naturally. And _he_ +wasn't going to be married," she added, becoming suddenly incoherent, +and taking hold of her throat with little rubs of her thumb and +forefinger as Eve's angry eyes met hers; "at least, not that we knew. I +did not say more, because I was not sure, Miss Bruce. But after it had +really happened, I supposed of course that Cicely wrote to you." + +"She!" + +"But Mr. Morrison is not here; he is not here, and never has been. She +met him in Savannah, and married him there; it was at a cousin's. But +she only stayed with him for a few months, and we fear that it is not a +very happy marriage. He is in South America at present, and you know how +far away that is. I haven't the least idea when he is coming back." + +The door at the end of the room opened. Cicely's little figure appeared +on the threshold. Miss Sabrina, who seemed to know who it was by +intuition, as she could see nothing at that distance, immediately began +to whisper. "Of course we don't _know_ that it is an unhappy marriage; +but as she came back to us so soon, it struck us so--it made that +impression; wouldn't it have made the same upon you? She must have +suffered extremely, and so we ought to be doubly kind to her." And she +laid her hand with a warning pressure on Eve's arm. + +"I am not likely to be unkind as long as there is the slightest hope of +getting this child away from her," answered Eve. "For she is the mother, +isn't she? She couldn't very well have palmed off some other baby on +you, for Jack himself was here then, I know. Oh, you needn't be afraid, +I shall defer to her, yield to her, grovel to her!" She bent her head +and kissed the baby's curls. But her tone was so bitter that poor Miss +Sabrina shrank away. + +Cicely had called to them, "Supper is ready." She remained where she was +at the end of the long room, holding the door open with her hand. + + + + +II. + + +The father of John and Eva Bruce was an officer in the United States +army. His wife had died when Eve was born. Captain Bruce brought up his +children as well as he could; he would not separate himself from them, +and so he carried them about with him to the various military stations +to which he was ordered. When his boy was sixteen, an opportunity +presented itself to him: an old friend, Thomas Ashley, who was +established, and well established, in London, offered to take the lad, +finish his education, and then put him into the house, as he called it, +the house being the place of business of the wealthy English-American +shipping firm to which he had the good-fortune to belong. + +Captain Bruce did not hesitate. Jack was sent across the seas. Eve, who +was then ten years old, wept desperately over the parting. Six years +later she too went to England. Her father had died, and, young as she +was, her determination to go to her brother was so strong that nothing +could stand against it. During the six years of separation Jack had +returned to America twice to see his father and sister; the tie between +the three had not been broken by absence, but only made stronger. The +girl had lived a concentrated life, therefore an isolated one. She had +had her own way on almost all occasions. It was said of her, "Any one +can see that she has been brought up by a man!" In reality there were +two men; for Jack had seemed to her a man when he was only twelve years +old. Her father gone, her resolve to go to Jack was, as has been said, +so strong that nothing could stand against it. But in truth there was +little to oppose to it, and few to oppose her; no one, indeed, who could +set up anything like the force of will which she was exhibiting on the +other side. She had no near relatives; as for her father's old friends, +she rode over them. + +"You'll have to let her go; she puts out her mouth so!" said Mrs. Mason, +the colonel's wife, at last. The remark, as to its form, was incoherent; +but everybody at the post understood her. At sixteen, then, Eve Bruce +was sent to England. As soon as she was able she took a portion of the +property which came to her from her mother, to make a comfortable home +for Jack. For Jack had only his salary, and it was not a large one. He +had made himself acceptable in the house, and in due time he was to have +a small share of the profits; but the due time was not yet, and would +not be for some years. His father's old friend, who had been his friend +also, as well as his sponsor in the firm, had died. But his widow, who +liked the young American--she was an American herself, though long +expatriated--continued to extend to him much kindness; and, when his +sister came over, she included her in the invitations. Eve did not care +much for these opportunities, nor for the other opportunities that +followed in their train; occasionally she went to a dinner; but she +found her best pleasure in being with her brother alone. They remained +in London all the year round, save for six weeks in August and +September. Eve could have paid many a visit in the country during the +autumn and winter; but their small, ugly house near Hans Place was more +beautiful in her eyes, Jack being there, than the most picturesque +cottage with a lawn and rose garden, or even than an ivy-grown mansion +in a deer-haunted park. + +Thus brother and sister lived on for eight years. Then one morning, +early in 1864, Jack, who had chafed against his counting-house chains +ever since the April of Sumter, broke them short off; he too had a +determined mouth. "I can't stand it any longer, Eve; I am going home. +Fortunately you are provided for, or I couldn't. I shall lose my place +here, of course; but I don't care. Go I must." A week later he sailed +for New York. And he was soon in the army. "Blood will tell," said his +father's regimental companions--the few who were left. + +Eve, in London, now began to lead that life of watching the telegraphic +despatches and counting the days for letters which was the lot of +American women during those dark times of war. She remained in London, +because it was understood between them that Jack was to return. But she +rented their house, and lived in lodgings near by, so as to have all the +more money ready for him when he should come back. + +But Jack did not come back. When the war reached its end, he wrote that +he was going to be married; she was a Southern girl--he was even +particular as to her name and position: Cicely Abercrombie, the +granddaughter of Judge Abercrombie of Abercrombie's Island. Eve scarcely +read these names; she had stopped at "marry." + +He did marry Cicely Abercrombie in October of that year, 1865. + +He wrote long letters to his sister; he wished her to come out and join +them. He had leased two of the abandoned cotton plantations--great +things could be done in cotton now--and he was sure that he should make +his fortune. Eve, overwhelmed with her disappointment and her grief, +wrote and rewrote her brief replies before she could succeed in filling +one small sheet without too much bitterness; for Jack was still Jack, +and she loved him. He had never comprehended the exclusiveness, the +jealousy of her affection; he had accepted her devotion and enjoyed it, +but he had believed, without thinking much about it at any time, that +all sisters were like that. In urging her, therefore, to join them, he +did not in the least suspect that the chief obstacle lay in that very +word "them," of which he was so proud. To join "them," to see some one +else preferred; where she had been first, to take humbly a second place! +And who could tell whether this girl was worthy of him? Perhaps the +bitterest part of the suffering would be to see Jack himself befooled, +belittled. The sister, wretchedly unhappy, allowed it to be supposed, +without saying so--it was Jack who suggested it--that she would come +later; after she had disposed of the lease of their house, and sold +their furniture to advantage. In time the furniture was sold, but not to +advantage. The money which she had taken from her capital to make a +comfortable home for her brother was virtually lost. + +Presently it was only a third place that could be offered to her, for, +during the next winter, Jack wrote joyfully to announce the birth of a +son. He had not made his fortune yet; but he was sure to do so the next +year. The next year he died. + +Then Eve wrote, for the first time, to Cicely. + +In reply she received a long letter from Cicely's aunt, Sabrina +Abercrombie, giving, with real grief, the particulars of Jack's last +hours. He had died of the horrible yellow-fever. Eve was ill when the +letter reached her; her illness lasted many months, and kind-hearted +Mrs. Ashley took her, almost by force, to her place in the country, +beautiful Hayling Hall, in Warwickshire. When at last she was able to +hold a pen, Eve wrote again to Cicely; only a few lines (her first +epistle had not been much longer); still, a letter. The reply was again +from Miss Abercrombie, and, compared with her first communication, it +was short and vague. The only definite sentences were about the child; +"for _he_ is the one in whom you are most interested, _naturally_," she +wrote, under-scoring the "he" and the "naturally" with a pale line; the +whole letter, as regards ink, was very pale. + +And now Eve Bruce had this child. And she determined, with all the +intensity of her strong will, of her burning, jealous sorrow, that he +should be hers alone. With such a mother as Cicely there was everything +to hope. + + + + +III. + + +While the meal, which Cicely had announced as supper, was going on in +the dining-room, Meadows was occupying herself in her accustomed evening +effort to bring her mistress's abiding-place for the night, wherever it +might happen to be, into as close a resemblance to an English bedroom as +was, under the circumstances, possible. The resemblance had not been +striking, so far, with all her toil, there having been something +fundamentally un-English both in the cabins of the _Ville de Havre_ and +in the glittering salons which served as bedrooms in the Hotel of the +Universe in New York. The Savannah boat had been no better, nor the +shelf with a roof over it of the little _Altamaha_; on the steamer of +the Inland Route her struggle had been with an apartment seven feet +long; here at Romney it was with one which had six times that amount of +perspective. + +A fire, freshly lighted, flared on the hearth, the spicy odor of its +light wood still filling the air. And there was air enough to fill, for +not one of the doors nor of the row of white windows which opened to the +floor fitted tightly in its casing; there were wide cracks everywhere, +and Meadows furthermore discovered, to her horror, that the windows had +sashes which came only part of the way down, the lower half being closed +by wooden shutters only. She barred these apertures as well as she could +(some of the bars were gone), and then tried to draw the curtains; but +these muslin protections, when they reached the strong current of air +which came through the central crack of the shutters, were blown out +towards the middle of the room like so many long white ghosts. Meadows +surveyed them with a sigh; with a sigh she arranged the contents of Miss +Bruce's dressing-bag on the outlandish bare toilet-table; she placed the +slippers by the fire and drew forward the easiest chair. But when all +was done the room still remained uncomfortably large, and uncomfortably +empty. Outside, the wind whistled, the near sea gave out a booming +sound; within, the flame of the candle flared now here, now there, in +the counter-draughts that swept the room. + +"It certainly is the farawayest place!" murmured the English girl. + +There came a sound at the door; not a knock, but a rub across the +panels. This too was alarming. Meadows kept the door well bolted, and +called fearfully, "Who's there?" + +"It's ony me--Powlyne," answered a shrill voice. "I's come wid de wines; +Miss S'breeny, she sont me." + +The tones were unmistakably feminine; Meadows drew back the bolt and +peeped out. A negro girl of twelve stood there, bearing a tray which +held a decanter and wineglass; her wool was braided in little tails, +which stood out like short quills; her one garment was a calico dress, +whose abbreviated skirt left her bare legs visible from the knees +down-ward. + +"Do you want to come in?" said Meadows. "I can take it." And she +stretched out her hand for the tray. + +"Miss S'breeny she done tole me to put 'em myse'f on de little table +close ter der bed," answered Powlyne, craning her neck to look into the +room. + +Meadows opened the door a little wider, and Powlyne performed her +office. Seeing that she was very small and slight, the English girl +recovered courage. + +"I suppose you live here?" she suggested. + +"Yass, 'm." + +"And when there isn't any one else 'andy, they send you?" + +"Dey sonds me when dey wanster, I's Miss S'breeny's maid," answered +Powlyne, digging her bare heel into the matting. + +"Her maid?--for gracious sake! What can _you_ do?" + +"Tuckenoffener shoes. _En_ stockin's." + +"Tuckenoffener?" + +"Haul'em off. Yass,'m." + +"Well, if I hever!" murmured Meadows, surveying this strange coadjutor, +from the erect tails of wool to the bare black toes. + +There was a loud groan in the hall outside. Meadows started. + +"Unc' Abram, I spec, totin' up de wood," said Powlyne. + +"Is he ill?" + +"Ill!" said the child, contemptuously. "He's dat dair sassy ter-night!" + +"Is he coming in here? Oh, don't go away!" pleaded Meadows. She had a +vision of another incursion of black men in bathing costumes. + +But Uncle Abram was alone, and he was very polite; he bowed even before +he put the wood down, and several times afterwards. "Dey's cookin' +suppah for yer, miss," he announced, hospitably. "Dey'll be fried +chickens en fixin's; en hot biscuits; en jell; en coffee." + +"I should rather have tea, if it is equally convenient," said Meadows, +after a moment's hesitation. + +"Dere, now, doan yer _like_ coffee?" inquired Uncle Abram, looking at +her admiringly. For it was such an extraordinary dislike that only very +distinguished people could afford to have it. "Fer my part," he went on, +gazing meditatively at the fire which he had just replenished, "I 'ain't +nebber had 'nuff in all my borned days--no, not et one time. Pints +wouldn't do me. Ner yet korts. I 'ain't nebber had a gallion." + +Voices were now heard in the hall. Cicely entered, followed by Eve +Bruce. + +"All the darkies on the island will be coming to look at her to-morrow," +said Cicely, after Meadows had gone to her supper; "they'll be immensely +stirred up about her. She's still afraid--did you see?--she kept as far +away as she could from poor old Uncle Abram as she went down the hall. +The field hands will be too much for her; some of the little nigs have +no clothes at all." + +"She won't see them; she goes to-morrow." + +"That's as you please; if I were you, I would keep her. They will bring +a mattress in here for her presently; perhaps she has never slept on the +floor?" + +"I dare say not. But she can for once." + +Cicely went to one of the windows; she opened the upper half of the +shutter and looked out. "How the wind blows! Jupiter Light shines right +into your room." + +"Yes, I can see it from here," said Eve. "It's a good companion--always +awake." She was speaking conventionally; she had spoken conventionally +through the long supper, and the effort had tired her: she was not in +the least accustomed to concealing her thoughts. + +"Always awake. Are _you_ always awake?" said Cicely, returning to the +fire. + +"I? What an idea!" + +"I don't know; you look like it." + +"I must look very tired, then?" + +"You do." + +"Fortunately you do not," answered Eve, coldly. For there was something +singularly fresh about Cicely; though she had no color, she always +looked fair and perfectly rested, as though she had just risen from a +refreshing sleep. "I suppose you have never felt tired, really tired, in +all your life?" Eve went on. + +"N--no; I don't know that I have ever felt _tired_, exactly," Cicely +answered, emphasizing slightly the word "tired." + +"_You_ have always had so many servants to do everything for you," Eve +responded, explaining herself a little. + +"We haven't many now; only four. And they help in the fields whenever +they can--all except Dilsey, who stays with Jack." + +Again the name. Eve felt that she must overcome her dread of it. "Jack +is very like his father," she said, loudly and decidedly. + +"Yes," answered Cicely. Then, after a pause, "Your brother was much +older than I." + +"Oh, Jack was _young_!" + +"I don't mean that he was really old, he hadn't gray hair. But he was +thirty-one when we were married, and I was sixteen." + +"I suppose no one forced you to marry him?" said the sister, the flash +returning to her eyes. + +"Oh, yes." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I mean he did--Jack himself did. I thought that perhaps you would feel +so." + +"Feel how?" + +"Why, that we made him--that we tried, or that I tried. And so I have +brought some of his letters to show you." She took a package from her +pocket and laid it on the mantelpiece. "You needn't return them; you can +burn them after reading." + +"Oh, probably," answered Eve, incoherently. She felt choked with her +anger and grief. + +There was a murmuring sound in the hall, and Miss Sabrina, pushing the +door open with her foot, entered apologetically, carrying a jar of +dark-blue porcelain, ornamented with vague white dragons swallowing +their tails. The jar was large; it extended from her knees to her chin, +which rested upon its edge with a singular effect. "My dear," she said, +"I've brought you some po-purry; your room hasn't been slept in for some +time, though I _hope_ it isn't musty." + +The jar had no handles; she had difficulty in placing it upon the high +chest of drawers. Eve went to her assistance. And then Miss Sabrina +perceived that their guest was crying. Eve changed the jar's position +two or three times. Miss Sabrina said, each time, "Yes, yes; it is much +better so." And, furtively, she pressed Eve's hand. + +Jack Bruce's wife, meanwhile--forgotten Jack--stood by the hearth, +gazing at the fire. She was a little creature, slight and erect, with a +small head, small ears, small hands and feet. Yet somehow she did not +strike one as short; one thought of her as having the full height of her +kind, and even as being tall for so small a person. This effect was due, +no doubt, to her slender litheness; she was light and cool as the wind +at dawn, untrammelled by too much womanhood. Her features were delicate; +the oval of her face was perfect, her complexion a clear white without +color. Her lustreless black hair, very fine and soft, was closely +braided, the plaits arranged at the back of the head as flatly as +possible, like a tightly fitting cap. Her great dark eyes with long +curling lashes were very beautiful. They had often an absent-minded +look. Under them were bluish rings. Slight and smooth as she was--the +flesh of her whole body was extraordinarily smooth, as though it had +been rubbed with pumice-stone--she yet seemed in one way strong and +unyielding. She was quiet in her looks, in her actions, in her tones. + +Eve had now choked down her tears. + +"I sent Powlyne with some cherry-bounce," said Miss Sabrina, giving +Eve's hand, secretly, a last pressure, as they came back to the hearth. +"Your maid will find it--such a nice, worthy person as she seems to be, +too; so generally desirable all round. If she is really to leave you +to-morrow, you must have some one else. Let me see--" + +"I don't want any one, thanks," Eve answered. Two spots of color rose in +her cheeks. "That is, I don't want any one unless I can have Jack?" She +turned to Cicely, who still stood gazing at the fire. "May Jack sleep +here?" + +"With Dilsey?" said Cicely, lifting her eyes with a surprised glance. + +"Yes, with Dilsey. The room is large." + +"I am sure I don't care; yes, if you like. He cries at night sometimes." + +"I hope he will," responded Eve, and her tone was almost fierce. "Then I +can comfort him." + +"Dilsey does that better than any one else; he is devoted to her; when +he cries, I never interfere," said Cicely, laughing. + +Eve bit her lips to keep back the retort, "But _I_ shall!" + +"It is a sweet idea," said Miss Sabrina, in her chanting voice. "It is +sweet of Miss Bruce to wish to have him, and sweet of you, Cicely, to +let him go. We can arrange a little nursery at the other end of this +room to-morrow; there's a chamber beyond, where no one sleeps, and the +door could be opened through, if you like. I am sure it will be very +nice all round." + +Eve turned and kissed her. Cicely pushed back a burning log with her +foot, and laughed again, this time merrily. "It seems so funny, your +having the baby in here at night, just like a mother, when you haven't +been married at all. Now I have been married twice. To be sure, I never +meant to be!" + +"My precious child!" Miss Sabrina remonstrated. + +"No, auntie, I never did. It came about," Cicely answered, her eyes +growing absent again and returning to the fire. + +Meadows now came in with deferential step, and presently she was +followed by her own couch, which Uncle Abram spread out, in the shape of +a mattress, on the floor. The English girl looked on, amazed. But this +was a house of amazements; it was like a Drury Lane pantomime. + +Later, when the girl was asleep, Eve rose, and, taking the package of +letters, which she had put under her pillow, she felt for a candle and +matches, thrust her feet into her slippers, and, with her dressing-gown +over her arm, stole to the second door; it opened probably into the +unoccupied chamber of which Miss Sabrina had spoken. The door was not +locked; she passed through, closing it behind her. Lighting her candle, +she looked about her. The room was empty, the floor bare. She put her +candle on the floor, and, kneeling down beside it, opened the letters. +There were but four; apparently Cicely had thought that four would be +enough to confirm what she had said. They were enough. More passionate, +more determined letters man never wrote to woman; they did not plead so +much as insist; they compelled by sheer force of persistent +unconquerable love, which accepts anything, bears anything, to gain even +tolerance. + +And this was Jack, her brother Jack, who had thus prostrated himself at +the feet of that indifferent little creature, that cold, small, dark +girl who already bore another name! She was angry with him. Then the +anger faded away into infinite pity. "Oh, Jack, dear old Jack, to have +loved her so, she caring nothing for you! And I am to burn your poor +letters that you thought so much about--your poor, poor letters." +Sinking down upon the floor, she placed the open pages upon her knees, +laying her cheek upon them as though they had been something human. +"Some one cares for you," she murmured. + +There was now a wild gale outside. One of the shutters was open, and +she could see Jupiter Light; she sat there, with her cheek on the +letters, looking at it. + +Suddenly everything seemed changed, she no longer wept; she felt +sluggish, cold. "Don't I care any more?" she thought, surprised. She +rose and went back to her bed, glad to creep into its warmth, and +leaving the letters on a chair by her bedside. Then, duly, she put them +under her pillow again. + + + + +IV. + + +On Christmas Day, Eve was out with little Jack and Dilsey. Dilsey was a +negro woman of sixty, small and thin, with a wise, experienced face; she +increased her dignity as much as she could by a high stiff white turban, +but the rest of her attire was poor and old, though she was not +bare-legged like Powlyne; she wore stockings and shoes. Little Jack's +wagon was a rude cart with solid wooden wheels; but the hoops of its +hood had been twined with holly by the negroes, so that the child's face +was enshrined in a bower of green. + +"We will go to the sea," said Eve. "Unless it is too far for you and the +wagon?" + +"No, 'm; push 'em easy 'nuff." + +The narrow road, passing between unbroken thickets of glittering +evergreen bushes, breast-high, went straight towards the east, like an +unroofed tunnel; in twenty minutes it brought them to the shore. The +beach, broad, firm, and silver white, stretched towards the north and +the south, dotted here and there with drift-wood; a breeze from the +water touched their cheeks coolly; the ocean was calm, little +foam-crested wavelets coming gurgling up to curl over and flatten +themselves out on the wet sand. "Do you see it, Jack?" said Eve, +kneeling down by the wagon. "It's the sea, the great big sea." + +But Jack preferred to blow his whistle, and that done, he proceeded to +examine it carefully, putting his little fat forefinger into all the +holes. Eve sat down on the sand beside him; if he scorned the sea, for +the moment she did too. + +"I's des sauntered ober, Dilsey; dey 'ain't no hurry 'bout comin' back," +said a voice. "En I 'low'd miss might be tired, so I fotched a cheer." +It was old Temp'rance, the cook. + +"Did you bring that chair all the way for me?" asked Eve, surprised. + +"Yass, 'm. It's sut'ny pleasant here; it sut'ny is." + +"I am much obliged; but I shall be going back soon." + +The two old women looked at each other. "Dat dere ole wrack down der +beach is moughty cu'us--ef yer like ter walk dat way en see 'em?" +suggested Dilsey, after a pause. + +"Too far," said Eve. + +Both of the old women declared that it was very near. The wind +freshened; Eve, who had little Jack in her arms, feared lest he might +take cold, thinly clad as he was--far too thinly for her Northern +ideas--with only one fold of linen and his little white frock over his +breast. She drew the skirt of her dress over his bare knees. Then after +a while she rose and put him in his wagon. "We will go back," she said. + +Again the two old women looked at each other. But they were afraid of +the Northern lady; the munificent presents which she had given them that +morning did not bring them any nearer to her. Old Temp'rance, therefore, +shouldered her chair again, Dilsey turned the wagon, and they entered +the bush-bordered tunnel on their way home, walking as slowly as they +could. In only one place was there an opening through the serried green; +here a track turned off to the right. When Eve had passed its entrance +the first time, there was nothing to be seen but another perspective of +white sand and glittering foliage; but on their return her eyes, +happening to glance that way, perceived a group of figures at the end. +"Who are those people?--what are they doing?" she said, pausing. + +"Oh, nutt'n," answered Temp'rance. "Des loungjun roun'." + +As Eve still stood looking, Uncle Abram emerged from the bushes. "Shall +I kyar your palasol fer yer, miss?" he asked, officiously. "'Pears like +yer mus' be tired; been so fur." + +Eve now comprehended that the three were trying to keep something from +her. "What has happened?" she said. "Tell me immediately." + +"Dey' ain' nutt'n happen," answered Uncle Abram, desperately; "dey's too +brash, dem two! Miss S'breeny she 'low'd dat yer moutn't like ter see +her go a moanin', miss; en so she tole us not ter let yer come dishyer +way ef we could he'p it. But dem two--dey's boun' ter do some fool ting. +It's a cohesion of malice 'mong women--'tis dat!" + +"Does that road lead to the cemetery, too?" said Eve. "I went by another +way. Take baby home, Dilsey"--she stooped and kissed him; "I will join +Miss Abercrombie." She walked rapidly down the side track; the three +blacks stood watching her, old Temp'rance with the chair poised on her +turban. + +The little burying-ground was surrounded by an old brick wall; its high +gate-posts were square, each surmounted by a clumsy funeral urn. The +rusty iron gate was open, and a procession was passing in. First came +Miss Sabrina in her bonnet, an ancient structure of large size, trimmed +with a black ribbon; the gentle lady, when out-of-doors, was generally +seen in what she called her "flat;" the presence of the bonnet, +therefore, marked a solemn occasion. She likewise wore a long scarf, +which was pinned, with two pins, low down on her sloping shoulders, its +broché ends falling over her gown in front; her hands were encased in +black kid gloves much too large for her, the kid wrists open and +flapping. Behind her came Powlyne, Pomp, and Plato, carrying wreaths of +holly. Eve drew near noiselessly, and paused outside. Miss Sabrina first +knelt down, bowing her head upon her hands for a moment; then, rising, +she took the wreaths one by one, and arranged them upon the graves, the +three blacks following her. When she had taken the last, she signed to +them to withdraw; they went out quietly, each turning at the gate to +make a reverential bow, partly to her, partly to the circle of the dead. +Eve now entered the enclosure, and Miss Sabrina saw her. + +"Oh, my dear! I didn't intend that _you_ should come," she said, +distressed. + +"And why not? I have been here before; and my brother is here." + +"Yes; but to-day--to-day is different." + +Eve looked at the graves; she perceived that three of them were decked +with small Confederate flags. + +"Our dear cousins," said Miss Sabrina; "they died for their country, and +on Memorial Day, Christmas Day, and Easter I like to pay them such small +honor as I can. I am in the habit of singing a hymn before I go; don't +stay, my dear, if it jars upon you." + +"It doesn't," said Eve. She had seated herself on the grass beside her +brother's grave, with her arm laid over it. + +Miss Sabrina turned her back and put on her glasses. Then, resuming her +original position, she took a small prayer-book from her pocket, opened +it, and, after an apologetic cough, began: + + "Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings, + Thy better portion trace." + +Eve, sitting there, looked at her. Miss Sabrina was tall and slender; +she had once been pretty, but now her cheeks were wan, her eyes faded, +her soft brown hair was very thin. She had but a thread of a voice. + + "There is everlasting peace, + Rest, enduring rest, in heaven," + +she sang in her faint, sweet tones; and when she came to the words, +"There will sorrows ever cease," she raised her poor dim eyes towards +the sky with such a beautiful expression of hope in them that the +younger woman began to realize that there might be acute griefs even +when people were so mild and acquiescent, so dimly hued and submissive, +as was this meek Southern gentlewoman. + +The hymn finished, Miss Sabrina put her prayer-book in her pocket, and +came forward. "My mother," she said, touching one of the tombs. "My +grandfather and grandmother. My brother Marmaduke, Cicely's father. +Cicely's mother; she was a Northerner, and we have sometimes thought +Cicely rather Northern." + +"Oh, no!" + +"Well, her grandmother was from Guadeloupe. So perhaps that balances +it." + +The older tombs were built of brick, each one covered with a heavy +marble slab, upon which were inscribed, in stately old-fashioned +language, and with old-fashioned arrangement of lines and capitals, the +names, the virtues, and the talents of the one who lay beneath. The +later graves were simple grassy mounds. + +"My brother Augustus; my great-uncle William Drayton; my aunt Pamela," +Miss Sabrina continued, indicating each tomb as she named its occupant, +much as though she were introducing them. "My own place is already +selected; it is here," she went on, tapping a spot with her slender +foot. "It seems to me a good place; don't you think so? And I keep an +envelope, with directions for everything, on top of my collars, where +any one can find it; for I do so dislike an ill-arranged funeral. For +instance, I particularly desire that there should be fresh water and +glasses on the hall-table, where every one can get them without asking; +_so_ much better than hidden in some back room, with every one +whispering and hunting about after them. I trust you don't mind my +saying," she concluded, looking at Eve kindly, "that I hope you may be +here." + +They left the cemetery together. + +"I suppose it was a shock to you that your niece should marry a Union +officer?" Eve said, as they took the shorter path towards the house. + +"Ye-es, I cannot deny it; and to my father also. But we liked John for +himself very much; and Cicely felt--" + +But John's sister did not care to hear what Cicely felt! "And was it on +this island that he expected to make his fortune--in cotton?" + +"No; these are rice lands, and they are worthless now that the dikes are +down." + +"And the slaves gone." + +"Yes. But we never had many slaves; we were never rich. Now we are very +poor, my dear; I don't know that any one has mentioned it to you." + +"And yet you keep on all these infirm old negroes--those who would be +unable to get employment anywhere else." + +"Oh, we should never turn away our old servants," replied Miss Sabrina, +with confidence. + +That evening, at the judge's suggestion, Cicely took her guitar. "What +do you want me to sing, grandpa?" + +"'Sweet Afton.'" + +So Cicely sang it. Then the judge himself sang, to Cicely's +accompaniment, "They may rail at this life." He had made a modest bowl +of punch: it was Christmas night, and every one should be merry. So he +sang, in his gallant old voice: + + "'They may rail at this life; from the hour I began it + I've found it a life full of kindness and bliss; + And until they can show me some happier planet, + More social, more gay, I'll content me with this.'" + +He was contented with it--this life "full of kindness and bliss," on his +lonely sea-island, with its broken dikes and desolated fields, in his +half-ruined old house, with its wooden walls vibrating, with more than +one pane of glass gone, more than one floor whose planks were loosened +so that they must walk carefully. At any rate, he trolled out his song +as though he were: it was Christmas night, and every one should be +merry. + +There was one person who really was merry, and that was Master Jack, who +sat on the lap of his Northern aunt, laughing and crowing, and demanding +recognition of his important presence from each in turn, by the despotic +power of his eye. In truth, it was this little child who held together +the somewhat strangely assorted group, Miss Sabrina in an ancient white +lace cape, with flowers in her hair; the old judge in a dress-coat and +ruffled shirt, Cicely in a gay little gown of light-blue tint (taken +probably, so Eve thought, from her second trousseau), and Eve herself in +her heavy black crape; she alone had made no concessions to Christmas; +her mourning attire was unlightened by any color, or even by white. + +"'Macgregor's Gathering,'" called the judge. + +Cicely sang it. After finishing the song, she began the lament a second +time, changing the words: + + "We're niggerless, niggerless, niggerless, Gregorlach! + Niggerless, niggerless, nig-ig-ig-gerless!" + +she sang. "For we're not 'landless' at all; we've got miles and miles of +land. It's niggers that are lacking." + +The judge laughed, patting her little dark head as she sat on a stool +beside him. "Let us go out to the quarters, grandpa; they will be +dancing by now. And Jack must go too." + +The judge lifted his great-grandson to his shoulder. Eve had already +noticed that Cicely never took the child from her with her own hands; +she let some one else do it. When the door was opened, distant sounds of +the thrumming of banjoes could be heard. Seeing a possible intention on +Eve's face, Cicely remarked, in her impersonal way, "Are you coming? +They won't enjoy it, they are afraid of you." + +"I don't see why they should be," said Eve, when she and Miss Sabrina +were left alone. + +"You are a stranger, my dear; it is only that. And they are all so fond +of Cicely that it wouldn't be Christmas to them if she did not pay them +a visit; they worship her." + +"And after she has sung that song!" + +"That song?" + +"'Niggerless,'" quoted Eve, indignantly. + +"Well, we are niggerless, or nearly so," said Miss Sabrina, mystified. + +"It's the word, the term." + +"Oh, you mean nigger? It is very natural to us to say so. I suppose you +prefer negroes? If you like, I will try to call them so hereafter. +Negroes; yes, negroes." She pronounced it "nig-roes." "I don't know +whether I have told you," she went on, "how much Cicely dislikes +dreams?" + +"Well she may!" was the thought of Jack Bruce's sister. What she said, +with a short laugh, was, "You had better tell her to be careful about +eating hot breads." + +"Would you have her eat _cold_ bread?" said Miss Sabina, in surprise. "I +didn't mean that her nights were disturbed; I only meant that she +dislikes the _telling_ of dreams--a habit so common at breakfast, you +know. I thought I would just mention it." + +Eve gave another abrupt laugh. "Do you fear I am going to tell her mine? +She would not find them all of sugar." + +"I did not mean yours especially. She has such a curious way of shutting +her teeth when people begin--such pretty little white teeth as they are, +too, dear child! And she doesn't like reading aloud either." + +"That must be a deprivation to you," said Eve, her tone more kindly. + +"It is. I have always been extremely fond of it. Are you familiar with +Milton? His 'Comus'?" + +"'Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting?" quoted Eve, smiling. + +"Yes. + + "'Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting, + Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, + In twisted braids of lilies knitting--'" + +said the Southern lady in her murmurous voice. "You don't know what a +pleasure it has always been to me that I am named Sabrina. The English +originated 'Comus;' I like the English, they are so cultivated." + +"Do you see many of them here?" + +"Not many. I am sorry to say my father does not like them; he thinks +them affected." + +"That is the last thing I should call them." + +"Well, those who come here really do say 'serpents' and 'crocodiles.'" + +"Do you mean as an oath?" said Eve, thinking vaguely of "Donner und +blitzen." + +"As an oath? I have never heard it used in that way," answered Miss +Sabrina, astonished. "I mean that they call the snakes serpents, and the +alligators crocodiles; my father thinks that so very affected." + +Thus the wan-cheeked mistress of Romney endeavored to entertain their +guest. + +That night Eve was sitting by her fire. The mattress of Meadows was no +longer on the floor; the English girl had started on her return journey +the day before, escorted to the pier by all the blacks of the island, +respectful and wondering. The presence of little Jack asleep in his crib +behind a screen, with Dilsey on her pallet beside him, made the large +wind-swept chamber less lonely; still its occupant felt overwhelmed with +gloom. There was a light tap at the door, and Cicely entered; she had +taken off her gay blue frock, and wore a white dressing-gown. "I thought +I'd see if you were up." She went across and looked at Jack for a +moment; then she came back to the fire. "You haven't touched your hair, +nor unbuttoned a button; are you always like that?" + +"Like what?" + +"Trim and taut, like a person going out on horse-back. I should love to +see you with your hair down; I should love to see you run and shriek!" + +"I fear you are not likely to see either." + +Cicely brought her little teeth together with a click. "I've got to get +something over in the north wing; will you come? The wind blows so, it's +splendid!" + +"I will go if you wish," said Eve. + +They went down the corridor and turned into another, both of them +lighted by the streaks of moonlight which came through the half-closed +or broken shutters; the moon was nearly at its full, and very brilliant; +a high wind was careering by outside--it cried at the corner of the +house like a banshee. At the end of the second hall Cicely led the way +through a labyrinth of small dark chambers, now up a step, now down a +step, hither and thither; finally opening a door, she ushered Eve into a +long, high room, lighted on both sides by a double row of windows, one +above the other. Here there were no shutters, and the moonlight poured +in, making the empty space, with its white walls and white floor, as +light as day. "It's the old ballroom," said Cicely. "Wait here; I will +be back in a moment." She was off like a flash, disappearing through a +far door. + +Eve waited, perforce. If she had felt sure that she could find her way +back to her room, she would have gone; but she did not feel sure. As to +leaving Cicely alone in that remote and disused part of the house, at +that late hour of the night, she cared nothing for that; Eve was hard +with people she did not like; she did not realize herself how hard she +was. She went to one of the windows and looked out. + +These lower windows opened on a long veranda. The veranda was only a +foot above the ground; any one, Eve reflected, could cross its uneven +surface and look in; she almost expected to see some one cross, and peer +in at her, his face opposite hers on the other side of the pane. The +moonlight shone on the swaying evergreens; within sight were the waters +of the Sound. Presently she became conscious of a current of wind +blowing through the room, and turned to see what caused it. There had +been no sound of an opening door, or any other sound, but a figure was +approaching, coming down the moonlit space rapidly with a waving motion. +It was covered with something transparent that glittered and shone; its +outlines were vague. It came nearer and nearer, without a sound. Then a +mass of silvery gauze was thrown back, revealing Cicely attired in an +old-fashioned ball dress made of lace interwoven with silver threads and +decked with little silvery stars; there was a silver belt high up under +her arms, and a wreath of the silvery stars shone in her hair. She stood +a moment; then snatching up the gauze which had fallen at her feet, she +held one end of it, and let the other blow out on the strong cold wind +which now filled the room. With this cloudy streamer in her hand, she +began lightly and noiselessly to dance, moving over the moonlit floor, +now with the gauze blowing out in front of her, now waving behind her as +she flew along. Suddenly she let it drop, and, coming to Eve, put her +arms round her waist and forced her forward. Eve resisted. But Cicely's +hands were strong, her hold tenacious; she drew her sister-in-law down +the room in a wild gallopade. In the midst of it, giving a little jump, +she seized Eve's comb. Eve's hair, already loosened, fell down on her +shoulders. Cicely clapped her hands, and began to take little dancing +steps to the tune of "Niggerless, niggerless, nig-ig-ig-gerless!" +chanted in a silvery voice. When she came to "less," she held out her +gleaming skirt, and dipped down in a wild little courtesy. + +Eve picked up her comb and turned back towards the door. + +Cicely danced on ahead, humming her song; they passed through the +labyrinth of dark little rooms, the glimmering dress acting as guide +through the dimness. Cicely went as far as the second hall; here she +stopped. + +"It's the wind, you know," she said, in her usual voice; "when it blows +like this, I always have to do something; sometimes I call out and +shout. But I don't care for it, really; I don't care for anything!" Her +face, as she spoke, looked set and melancholy. She opened a door and +disappeared. + +The next day there was nothing in her expression to indicate that there +had been another dance at Romney the night before, besides the one at +the negro quarters. + +Eve was puzzled. She had thought her so unimaginative and quiet; "a +passionless, practical little creature, cool and unimpulsive, whose +miniature beauty led poor Jack astray, and made him believe that she had +a soul!" This had been her estimate. She was alone with the baby; she +took him to the window and looked at him earnestly. The little man +smiled back at her, playing with the crape of her dress. No, there was +nothing of Cicely here; the blue eyes, golden hair, and frank smile--all +were his father over again. + +"We'll make that Mr. Morrison come back, baby; and then you and I will +go away together," she whispered, stroking his curls. + +"Meh Kiss'm," said Jack. It was as near as he could come to "Merry +Christmas." + +"Before another Christmas I'll get you away from her _forever_!" +murmured the aunt, passionately. + + + + +V. + + +"Out rowing? If you are doing it to entertain me--" said Eve. + +"I should never think of that; there's only one thing here that +entertains you, and that's baby," Cicely answered. She spoke without +insistence; her eyes had their absent-minded expression. + +"Cicely, give him to me," Eve began. She must put her wish into words +some time. "If I could only make you feel how much I long for it! I will +devote my life to him; and it will be a pleasure to me, a charity, +because I am so alone in the world. You are not alone; you have other +ties. Listen, Cicely, I will make any arrangement you like; you shall +always have the first authority, but let me have him to live with me; +let me take him away when I go. I will even acknowledge everything you +have said: my brother _was_ much older than you were; it's natural that +those months with him should seem to you now but an episode--something +that happened at the beginning of your life, but which need not go on to +its close." + +"I _was_ young," said Cicely, musingly. + +"Young to marry--yes." + +"No; I mean young to have everything ended." + +"But that is what I am telling you, it must not be ended; Mr. Morrison +must come back to you." + +"He may," answered Cicely, looking at her companion for a moment with +almost a solemn expression. + +"Then give baby to me now, and let me go away--before he comes." + +Cicely glanced off over the water; they were standing on the low bank +above the Sound. "He could not go north now, in the middle of the +winter," she answered, after a moment. + +"In the early spring, then?" + +"I don't know; perhaps." + +Eve's heart gave a bound. She was going to gain her point. + +Having been brought up by a man, she had learned to do without the +explanations, the details, which are dear to most feminine minds; so all +she said was, "That's agreed, then." She was so happy that a bright +flush rose in her cheeks, and her smile, as she spoke these last few +words, was very sweet; those lips, which Miss Sabrina had thought so +sullen, had other expressions. + +Cicely looked at her. "You may marry too." + +Eve laughed. "There is no danger. To show you, to make you feel as +secure as I do, I will tell you that there have been one or two--friends +of Jack's over there. Apparently I am not made of inflammable material." + +"When you are sullen--perhaps not. But when you are as you are now?" + +"I shall always be sullen to that sort of thing. But we needn't be +troubled; there won't be an army! To begin with, I am twenty-eight; and +to end with, every one will know that I have willed my property to baby; +and that makes an immense difference." + +"How does it make a difference?" + +"In opportunities for marrying, if not also--as I really believe--for +falling in love." + +"I don't see what difference it makes." + +"True, you do not," Eve replied; "you are the most extraordinary people +in the world, you Southerners; I have been here nearly a month, and I am +still constantly struck by it--you never think of money at all. And the +strangest point is, that although you never think of it, you don't in +the least know how to get on without it; you cannot improve anything, +you can only endure." + +"If you will tell Dilsey to get baby ready, I will see to the boat," +answered Cicely. She was never interested in general questions. + +Presently they were afloat. They were in a large row-boat, with Pomp, +Plato, Uncle Abram, and a field hand at the oars; Cicely steered; Eve +and little Jack were the passengers. The home-island was four miles +long, washed by the ocean on one side, the Sound on the other; on the +north, Singleton Island lay very near; but on the south there was a +broad opening, the next island being six miles distant. Here stood +Jupiter Light; this channel was a sea-entrance not only to the line of +Sounds, but also to towns far inland, for here opened on the west a +great river-mouth, through which flowed to the sea a broad, slow stream +coming from the cotton country. They were all good sailors, as they had +need to be for such excursions, the Sounds being often rough. The bright +winter air, too, was sharp; but Eve was strong, and did not mind it, and +the ladies of Romney, like true Southerners, never believed that it was +really cold, cold as it is at the North. The voyages in the row-boat had +been many; they had helped to fill the days, and the sisters-in-law had +had not much else with which to fill them; they had remained as widely +apart as in the beginning, Eve absorbed in her own plans, Cicely in her +own indifference. Little Jack was always of the party, as his presence +made dialogue easy. They had floated many times through the salt marshes +between the rattling reeds, they had landed upon other islands, whose +fields, like those of Romney, had once been fertile, but which now +showed submerged expanses behind the broken dikes, with here and there +an abandoned rice-mill. Sometimes they went inland up the river, rowing +slowly against the current; sometimes, when it was calm, they went out +to sea. To-day they crossed to the other side of the Sound. + +"What a long house Romney is!" said Eve, looking back. She did not add, +"And if you drop anything on the floor at one end it shakes the other." + +"Yes, it's large," Cicely answered. She perceived no fault in it. + +"And the name; you know there's a Romney in Kent?" + +"Is there?" + +"And your post-office, too; when I think of your Warwick, with its one +wooden house, those spectral white sand-hills, the wind, and the tall +light-house, and then when I recall the English Warwick, with its small, +closely built streets, and the great castle looking down into the river +Avon, I wonder if the first-comers here didn't feel lost sometimes. All +the rivers in central England, put together, would be drowned out of +sight in that great yellow stream of yours over there." + +But Cicely's imagination took no flight towards the first-comers, nor +towards the English rivers; and, in another moment, Eve's had come +hastily homeward, for little Jack coughed. "He is taking cold!" she +exclaimed. "Let us go back." + +"It's a splendid day; he will take no cold," Cicely answered. "But we +will go back if you wish." She watched Eve fold a shawl round the little +boy. "You ought to have a child of your own, Eve," she said, with her +odd little laugh. + +"And you ought never to have had one," Eve responded. + +As they drew near the landing, they perceived Miss Sabrina on the bank. +"She has on her bonnet! Where can she be going?" said Cicely. "Oh, I +know; she will ask you to row to Singleton Island, to return Mrs. +Singleton's call." + +"But Jack looks so pale--" + +"You're too funny, Eve! How do you suppose we have taken care of him all +this time--before you came?" Eve's tone was often abrupt, but Cicely's +was never that; the worst you could say of it was that its sweetness was +sometimes mocking. + +When they reached the landing, Miss Sabrina proposed her visit; "that +is, if you care to go, my dear. Dilsey told me that she saw you coming +back, so I put on my bonnet on the chance." + +"Eve is going," remarked Cicely, stepping from the boat; "she wants to +see Rupert, he is such a sweet little boy." + +Dilsey took Jack, and presently Miss Sabrina and her guest were floating +northward. Eve longed to put her triumph into words: "The baby is mine! +In the spring I am to have him." But she refrained. "When does your +spring begin?" she asked. "In February?" + +"In March, rather," answered Miss Sabrina. "Before that it is dangerous +to make changes; I myself have never been one to put on thin dresses +with the pinguiculas." + +"What are pinguiculas?--Birds?" + +"They are flowers," responded Miss Sabrina, mildly. + +"It will be six weeks, then; to-day is the fifteenth." + +"Six weeks to what?" + +"To March; to spring." + +"I don't know that it begins on the very first day," remarked Miss +Sabrina. + +"Mine shall!" thought Eve. + +Romney was near the northern end of the home-island; the voyage, +therefore, was a short one. The chimneys of Singleton House came into +view; but the boat passed on, still going northward. "Isn't that the +house?" Eve asked. + +"Yes, but the landing is farther on; we always go to the landing, and +then walk back through the avenue." + +But when the facade appeared at the end of the neglected road--a walk of +fifteen minutes--there seemed to Eve hardly occasion for so much +ceremony; the old mansion was in a worse condition than Romney; it +sidled and leaned, and one of its wings was a roofless ruin, with the +planking of the floor half tilted up, half fallen into the cellar. Miss +Sabrina betrayed no perception of the effect of this upon a stranger; +she crossed the veranda with her lady-like step, and said to a solemn +little negro boy who was standing in the doorway: "Is Mrs. Singleton at +home this evening, Boliver? Can she see us?--Miss Bruce and Miss +Abercrombie." + +An old negro woman came round the corner of the house, and, cuffing the +boy for standing there, ushered the visitors into a room on the right +of the broad hall. The afternoon had grown colder, but the doors and +windows all stood open; a negro girl, who bore a strong resemblance to +Powlyne, entered, and chased out a chicken who was prowling about over +the matted floor; then she knelt down, with her long thin black legs +stretched out behind, and tried to light a fire on the hearth. But the +wind was evidently in the wrong direction for the requirements of that +chimney; white smoke puffed into the room in clouds. + +"Let us go out on the veranda," suggested Eve, half choked. + +"Oh, but surely--When they have ushered us in here?" responded Miss +Sabrina, remonstratingly, though she too was nearly strangled. "It will +blow away in a few minutes, I assure you." + +Much of it still remained when Mrs. Singleton entered. She paid no more +attention to it than Miss Sabrina had done; she welcomed her guests +warmly, kissing Eve on both cheeks, although she had never seen her +before. "I have been so much interested in hearing that you are from +England, Miss Bruce," she said, taking a seat beside her. "We always +think of England as our old home; I reckon you will see much down here +to remind you of it." + +Eve looked about her--at the puffing smoke, at the wandering chicken, +who still peered through one of the windows. "I am not English," she +said. + +"But you have lived there so long; ever since you were a child; surely +it is the same thing," interposed Miss Sabrina. A faint color rose in +her cheeks for a moment. Eve perceived that she preferred to present an +English rather than a Northern guest. + +"We are all English, if you come to that," said Mrs. Singleton, +confidently. She was small, white-haired, with a sweet face, and a sweet +voice that drawled a little. + +"Eve is much interested in our nig-roes," pursued Miss Sabrina; "you +know to her they are a novelty." + +"Ah dear, yes, our poor, poor people! When I think of them, Miss Bruce, +scattered and astray, with no one to advise them, it makes my heart +bleed. For they must be suffering in so many ways; take the one instance +of the poor women in their confinements; we used to go to them, and be +with them to cheer their time of trial. But now, separated from us, from +our care and oversight, what _can_ they do? If the people who have been +so rash in freeing them had only thought of even that one thing! But I +suppose they did not think of it, and naturally, because the +abolitionist societies, we are told, were composed principally of old +maids." + +Eve laughed. "Why can't they have nurses, as other people do?" + +"You don't mean regular monthly nurses, of course?" + +"Why not?--if they can afford to pay for them. They might club together +to supply them." + +"Oh, I don't think that would be at all appropriate, really. And Eve +does not mean it, I assure you," said Miss Sabrina, coming to the +rescue; "her views are perfectly reasonable, dear Mrs. Singleton; you +would be surprised." + +"You would indeed!" Eve thought. + +But they talked no more of the nig-roes. + +"How is Miss Hillsborough?" Miss Sabrina asked. + +"Right well, I am glad to say. My dear Aunt Peggy, Miss Bruce; and what +she is to me I can hardly tell you! You know I am something of a +talker"--here Mrs. Singleton laughed softly. "And we are so much alone +here now, that, were it not for Aunt Peggy, I should fairly have to talk +to the chickens!" (One at least would be ready, Eve thought.) "Don't you +know that there are ever so many little things each day that we want to +_say_ to somebody?" Mrs. Singleton went on. "Thinking them is not +enough. And these dear people, like Aunt Peggy, who sit still and +listen;--it isn't what they answer that's of consequence; in fact they +seldom say much; it's just the chance they give us of putting our own +thought into words and seeing how it looks. It _does_ make such a +difference." + +"You are fortunate," Eve answered. "And then you have your little boy, +too; Cicely has told me about him--Rupert; she says he is a dear little +fellow." + +"Dear heart!" exclaimed Miss Sabrina, distressed. "Cicely is +sometimes--yes--" + +But Mrs. Singleton laughed merrily. "I will show him to you presently," +she said. + +"Mr. Singleton is so extraordinarily agreeable!" said Miss Sabrina, with +unwonted animation. + +"Oh yes, he is wonderful; and he is a statesman too, a second Patrick +Henry. But then as regards the little things of each _day_, you know, we +don't go to our husbands with _those_." + +"What do you do, then?--I mean with the husbands," Eve asked. + +"I think we admire them," answered Mrs. Singleton, simply. + +Lucasta, the negro girl, now appeared with a tray. "Pray take some +Madeira," said their hostess, filling the tiny glasses. "And plum-cake." + +Eve declined. But Miss Sabrina accepted both refreshments, and Mrs. +Singleton bore her company. The wine was unspeakably bad, it would have +been difficult to say what had entered into its composition; but Madeira +had formed part of the old-time hospitality of the house, and something +that was sold under that name (at a small country store on the mainland +opposite) was still kept in the cut-glass decanter, to be served upon +occasion. + +Presently a very tall, very portly, and very handsome old man (he well +merited three verys) came in, leaning on a cane. "Miss Bruce--little +Rupert; our dear little boy," said Mrs. Singleton, introducing him. She +had intended to laugh, but she forgot it; she gazed at him admiringly. + +The master of the house put aside his cane, and looked about for a +chair. As he stood there, helpless for an instant, he seemed gigantic. + +Eve laughed. + +Miss Sabrina murmured, "Pleasantry, dear Mr. Singleton;--our foolish +pleasantry." + +After the old gentleman had found his chair and seated himself, and had +drawn a breath or two, he gave a broad slow smile. "Nanny, are you in +the habit of introducing me to your young lady friends as your dear +little Rupert?--your little Rupe?" + +"Rupe? Never!" answered Mrs. Singleton, indignantly. + +"Only our foolish pleasantry," sighed Miss Sabrina, apologetically. + +"It was Cicely," Eve explained. + +"If it was Cicely, it was perfect," the lame colossus answered, +gallantly. "Cicely is heavenly. Upon my word, she is the most engaging +young person I have ever seen in my life." + +He then ate some plum-cake, and paid Eve compliments even more handsome +than these. + +After a while he imparted the news; he had been down to the landing to +meet the afternoon steamer, which brought tidings from the outside +world. "Melton is dead," he said. "You know whom I mean? Melton, the +great stockbroker; one of the richest men living, I suppose." + +"Oh! where is his soul _now_?" said Mrs. Singleton. Her emotion was +real, her sweet face grew pallid. + +"Why, I have never heard that he was a bad man, especially," remarked +Eve, surprised. + +"He was sure to be--making all that money; it could not be otherwise. +Oh, what is his agony at this very moment!" + +But Rupert did not sympathize with this mournfulness; when three ladies +were present, conversation should be light, poetical. "Miss Bruce," he +said, turning towards Eve--he was so broad that that in itself made a +landscape--"have you ever noticed the appropriateness of 'County Guy' to +this neighborhood of ours?" + +"No," Eve answered. But the words brought her father to her mind with a +rush: how often, when she was a child, had he beguiled a dull walk with +a chant, half song, half declamation: + + "Oh, County Guy, the hour is nigh, + The sun has left the lea." + +She looked at her host, but she did not hear him; a mist gathered in her +eyes. + + "'Oh, County Guy, the hour is nigh,'" + +began the colossus, placing his plum-cake on his knee provisionally. + + "'The sun has left the lea; + The orange flower perfumes the bower, + The breeze is on the sea. + The lark his lay who trilled all day + Sits hushed his partner nigh. + Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour; + But where is County Guy?' + +"The orange flower perfumes the bower; here we have the orange flower +and the lea, the bower and the sea; and it's very rarely that you find +all four together. 'The lark his lay who trilled all day'--what music it +is! There's no one like Scott." + +His lameness prevented him from accompanying his guests on their walk +back to the boat; he stood in the doorway leaning on his cane and waving +a courtly farewell, while the chicken, with slowly considering steps, +crossed the veranda and entered the drawing-room again. + +"Miss Sabrina, please tell me what you know of Ferdinand Morrison," Eve +began, as soon as a turn in the road hid the old house from their view. + +Miss Sabrina had expected to talk about the Singletons. "Oh, Mr. +Morrison? we did not see him ourselves, you know." + +"But you must have heard." + +"Certainly, we heard. The Singletons are delightful people, are they +not? So cultivated! Their house has always been one of the most +agreeable on the Sound." + +"I dare say. But about Ferdinand Morrison?" Eve went on. For it was not +often that she had so good an opportunity; at Romney, if there was no +one else present, there were always the servants, who came in and out +like members of the family. "Cicely met him first in Savannah, didn't +she?" + +"Yes," answered Miss Sabrina (but giving up the Singletons with regret); +"she went to pay a visit to our cousin Emmeline; and there she met him. +From the very beginning he appeared to be much in love with her, Cousin +Emmeline wrote. And Cicely too--so we heard--appeared to care for him +from the first day. At least Cousin Emmeline received that impression; +Cicely, of course, did not take her into her confidence." + +"Why of course?" + +"At that early stage? But don't you think that those first sweet +uncertainties are always private? Mr. Morrison used to come every day, +and take her out for a drive; I have been in Savannah myself, and I have +often thought that probably they went to Bonaventure--_so_ delightful! +At last, one evening, Cicely told Cousin Emmeline that she was engaged. +And the next day she wrote to us. She did not come home; they were +married there at Emmeline's." + +"And none of you went to the wedding?" + +"There were only father and I to go; we have not always been able to do +as we wished," replied Miss Sabrina, gently. + +"Mr. Morrison had money, I suppose?" + +"I think not; we have never been told so." + +"Didn't you ask?" + +"That was for Cicely, wasn't it? I dare say she knows. We could only +hope, father and I, that she would be happy; but I fear that she has not +been, ah no." And Miss Sabrina sighed. + +"But we must not give it up so, she is still so young. Why don't you +write to Mr. Morrison yourself, and tell him, command him, to come +back?" suggested Eve, boldly. + +"But--but I don't know where he is," answered Miss Sabrina, bewildered +by this sudden attack. + +"You said South America." + +"But I couldn't write, 'Ferdinand Morrison, Esquire, South America.'" + +"Some one must know. His relatives." + +"Yes, there is his brother, and a most devoted brother, we are told," +responded Miss Sabrina, speaking more fluently now that she had launched +upon family affection. "Yes, indeed--from all we have heard of Paul +Tennant, we are inclined to think him a most excellent young man. He may +not have Ferdinand's beauty (we are told that Ferdinand is remarkably +handsome); and it is probable, too, that he has not Ferdinand's +cultivation, for he is a business man, and has always lived at the +North.--I beg your pardon, my dear, I am sure," said the Southern lady, +interrupting herself in confusion. + +"It doesn't matter; the North won't die of it. If you know where this +brother is--But why has he a different name?" + +"The mother, Mrs. Tennant, who was a widow with this one boy, Paul, +married one of the Maryland Morrisons--I reckon you know the family. +Ferdinand is the child of this second marriage. His father and mother +are dead; his only near relative is this half-brother, Paul." + +"Write to Paul, then, and find out where Ferdinand is." + +"This is a plot, isn't it?" answered Miss Sabrina, smiling. "But I like +it; it's so sweet of you to plan for our poor Cicely's happiness." + +"You needn't thank me! Then you will write?" + +"But I don't know where Mr. Tennant is either.--I dare say Cicely +knows." + +"But if you ask her, she will suspect something. And if I ask her, it +will be worse still! Doesn't anybody in the world know where this Paul +Tennant is?" said Eve, irritably. + +"I think we heard that it was some place where it is very cold--I +remember that. It might have been Canada," suggested Sabrina, +reflectively. + +"Canada and South America--what a family!" said Eve, in despair. + +The wind had risen, the homeward voyage was rough. They reached Romney +to find little Jack ill; before morning he was struggling with an attack +of croup. + + + + +VI. + + +"Cicely, what did you say to those people, that they stared at us so +when they passed?" + +"Oh, they asked me if you were the man who went round with the +panorama--to explain it, you know. So I told them that you were the +celebrated Jessamine family--you and Miss Leontine; and that you were +going to give a concert in Gary Hundred to-night; I advised them to go." + +"Bless my soul!--the celebrated Jessamine family? What possessed you?" + +"Well, they saw the wagon, and they thought it looked like a panorama. +They seemed to want something, so I told them that." + +Eve broke into a laugh. + +But the judge put on his spectacles, and walked round the wagon with +indignant step. "It is an infernal color," he declared, angrily. + +"Our good Dickson had that paint on hand--he told me about it," +explained Miss Leontine. "It was left over"--here she paused. "I don't +know what you will think, but I believe it really was left over after a +circus--or was it a menagerie? At any rate, the last thing that was +exhibited here before the war." + +The vehicle in question was a long-bodied, two seated wagon, with a +square box behind, which opened at the back like the box of a carrier's +cart; its hue was the liveliest pea green. + +"Dickson had no business to give it to us; it was a damned +impertinence!" said the judge, with a snort. + +"Don't spoil your voice, when you've got to sing to-night, grandpa," +remarked Cicely. "And you will have to lead out Miss Leontine--who will +sing 'Waiting.'" + +The judge glanced at Miss Leontine. He could not repress a grin. + +But tall Miss Leontine remained amiable, she had never heard of +"Waiting." In any case she seldom penetrated jokes; they seemed to her +insufficiently explained; often, indeed, abstruse. She was fifty-two, +and very maidenly; her bearing, her voice, her expression, were all +timidly virginal, as were also the tints of her attire, pale blues and +lavenders, and faint green. Her face bore a strong resemblance to the +face of a camel; give a camel a pink-and-white complexion, blue eyes, +and light-brown hair coming down in flat bands on each side of its long +face, and you have Miss Leontine. She was extraordinarily tall--she +attained a stature of nearly six feet. Her step, as if conscious of +this, was apologetic; her long narrow back leaned forward as though she +were trying to reduce her height in front as she came towards one. She +wore no crinoline; her head was decked with a large gypsy hat, from +which floated a blue tissue veil. + +The little party of four--Eve, Cicely, the judge, and Miss +Leontine--with Master Jack, had driven from Gary Hundred to Bellington; +their hostess, Cousin Sarah Cray, had an old horse, and this wagon had +been borrowed from Dickson, the village grainer (who had so mistakenly +saved the circus paint); it would be a pleasant excursion in itself, and +it would be good for Jack--which last was the principal point with them +all. + +For the much longer excursion from Abercrombie Island to this inland +South Carolina village had been taken on Jack's account; the attack of +croup had left him with a harassing cough, a baby's little cough, which +is so distressing to the ears of those who love him. Eve had walked +about, day and night, carrying him in her arms, his languid head on her +shoulder; she could not bear to see how large his eyes looked in his +little white face; she did not sleep; she could scarcely speak. + +"We might go to Cousin Sarah Cray's for a while, away from the coast," +Cicely suggested. She was always present when Eve walked restlessly to +and fro; but she did not interfere, she let Eve have the child. + +Eve had no idea who or where was Cousin Sarah Cray, but she agreed to +anything that would take Jack away from the coast. It was very cold now +at Romney; the Sound was dark and rough all the time, the sea boomed, +the winds were bitter. They had therefore journeyed inland, Jack and +Eve, Cicely and her grandfather, leaving Miss Sabrina to guard the +island-home alone. + +When they reached Gary Hundred and the softer air, Jack began to revive; +Eve too revived, she came back to daily life again. One of the first +things she said was: "I ought not to be staying here, Cicely; you must +let me go to the hotel; your cousin is not my cousin." + +"She's Jack's." + +"Do you mean by that that Jack must stay, and if he does, I shall? But +it isn't decent; here we have all descended upon her at a moment's +notice, and filled up her house, and tramped to and fro. She doesn't +appear to be rich." + +"We are all as poor as crows, but we always go and stay with each other +just the same. As for Cousin Sarah Cray, she loves it. Of course we take +her as we find her." + +"We do indeed!" was Eve's thought. "It is all very well for you," she +went on, aloud. "But I am a stranger." + +"Cousin Sarah Cray doesn't think so; she thinks you very near--a sister +of her cousin." + +"If you count in that way, what families you must have! But why +shouldn't we all go to the hotel, and take her with us? There's an +idea." + +"For one reason, there's no hotel to go to," responded Cicely, laughing. + +They continued, therefore, to stay with Cousin Sarah Cray; they had been +there ten days, and Jack was so much better that Eve gladly accepted her +obligations, for the present. She accepted, too, the makeshifts of the +rambling housekeeping. But if the housekeeping was of a wandering order, +the welcome did not wander--it remained fixed; there was something +beautiful in the boundless affection and hospitality of poverty-stricken +Cousin Sarah Cray. + +Bellington was a ruin. In the old days it had been the custom of the +people of Gary Hundred, and the neighboring plantations, to drive +thither now and then to spend an afternoon; the terraces and fish-ponds +were still to be seen, together with the remains of the Dutch +flower-garden, and the great underground kitchens of the house, which +had been built of bricks imported from Holland a hundred and twenty +years before. In the corner of one of the fields bordering the river +were the earthworks of a Revolutionary fort; in a jungle a quarter of a +mile distant there was a deserted church, with high pews, mouldering +funeral hatchments, and even the insignia of George the Third in faded +gilt over the organ-loft. Bellington House had been destroyed by fire, +accidentally, in 1790. Now, when there were in the same neighborhood +other houses which had been destroyed by fire, not accidentally, there +was less interest in the older ruin. But it still served as an excuse +for a drive, and drives were excellent for the young autocrat of the +party, to whom all, including Miss Leontine, were shamelessly devoted. + +The judge did his duty as guide; he had visited Bellington more times +than he could count, but he again led the way (with appropriate +discourse) from the fish-ponds to the fort, and from the fort to the +church, Miss Leontine, in her floating veil, ambling beside him. + +When the sun began to decline they returned to their pea-green wagon. +The judge walked round it afresh. Then he turned away, put his head over +a bush, and muttered on the other side of it. + +"What is he saying?" Eve asked. + +"I am afraid 'cuss words,' as the darkies call them," answered Cicely, +composedly. "He is without doubt a very desperate old man." + +Miss Leontine looked distressed, she made a pretext of gathering some +leaves from a bush at a little distance; as she walked away, her skirt +caught itself behind at each step upon the tops of her prunella boots, +which were of the pattern called "Congress," with their white straps +visible. + +"She is miserable because I called him that," said Cicely; "she thinks +him perfect. Grandpa, I have just called you a desperate old man." + +But the judge had resumed his grand manner; he assisted the ladies in +climbing to their high seats, and then, mounting to his own place, he +guided the horse down the uneven avenue and into the broad road again. +The cotton plantations of this neighborhood had suffered almost as much +as the rice fields of Romney: they had been flooded so often that much +of the land was now worthless, disintegrated and overgrown with +lespedeza. They crossed the river (which had done the damage) on--or +rather in--a long shaking wooden bridge, covered and nearly dark, and +guarding in its dusky recesses a strong odor of the stable. Beyond it +the judge had an inspiration: he would go across the fields by one of +the old cotton-tracks, thus shortening the distance by more than two +miles. + +"Because you're ashamed of + + 'Our pea-green wagon, our wagon of green, + Lillibulero, bullen-a-la,'" + +chanted Cicely on the back seat. + +"Cecilia!" said the judge, with dignity. + +Eve sat beside him; courteously he entertained her. "Have you ever +reflected, Miss Bruce, upon the very uninteresting condition of the +world at present? Everything is known. Where can a gentleman travel now, +with the element of the unexpected as a companion? There are positively +no lands left unvulgarized save the neighborhood of the Poles." + +"Central Africa," Eve suggested. + +"Africa? I think I said for gentlemen." + +"You turbulent old despot, curb yourself," said Cicely, _sotto voce_. + +"In the old days, Miss Bruce," the judge went on, "we had Arabia, we had +Thibet, we had Cham-Tartary; we could arrive on camels at Erzerum. Hey! +what are you about there, boy? Turn out!" + +"Turn out yourself." + +The track had passed down into a winding hollow between sloping banks +about six feet high; on the other side of a curve they had come suddenly +upon an empty hay-cart which was approaching from the opposite +direction, drawn by two mules; the driver, an athletic young negro with +an insolent face, was walking beside his team. His broad cart filled +every inch of the track; it was impossible to pass it without climbing +the bank. The judge, with his heavy wagon and one horse, could not do +this; but it would have been easy for the mules to take their light cart +up the slope, and thus leave room for the wagon. + +The old planter could not believe that he had heard aright. "Turn out, +boy!" he repeated, with the imperious manner which only a lifetime of +absolute authority can give. + +The negro brought his mules up until their noses touched the nose of the +horse; then, putting his hands in his pockets, he planted himself, and +called out, "W'at yer gwine ter do 'bout it?" + +In an instant the judge was on his feet, whip in hand. But Cicely +touched him. "You are not going to fight with him, grandpa?" she said, +in a low tone. "For he will fight; he isn't in the least afraid of you." + +The judge had now reached the ground. In his rage he was white, with his +eyes blazing. Eve, greatly alarmed, clasped little Jack closer. + +Cicely jumped lightly down. "Grandpa," she said, under her breath, "he +is a great deal stronger than you are, and after he has struck you down +we shall be here alone with him--think of that. We will all get out, and +then you can lead the horse up the bank, and go by him. Dear grandpa, it +is the only way; this isn't the island, this is South Carolina." + +Eve, seeing the speechless passion of the old man, had not believed that +Cicely would prevail; she had closed her eyes with a shuddering, +horrible vision of the forward rush, the wrested whip, and the +silver-haired head in the dust. But, with a mighty effort, trembling +like a leaf with his repressed rage, the judge put up his hand to help +her in her descent. She accepted his aid hurriedly, giving Jack to +Cicely; Miss Leontine had climbed down alone, the tears dropping on her +cheeks behind her veil. The judge then led the horse up the bank and +past the wagon, the negro keeping his position beside his mules; the +ladies followed the wagon, and mounted to their places again when it had +reached the track, Cicely taking the seat by the side of her +grandfather. Then they drove off, followed by the negro's jeering +laughter. + +The old planter remained perfectly silent. Eve believed that, after he +had deposited them safely at home, he would go back in search of that +negro without fail. She and Cicely tried to keep up a conversation; Miss +Leontine joined them whenever she was able, but the tears constantly +succeeded each other on her long face, and she was as constantly putting +her handkerchief to her eyes in order to repress them, the gesture much +involved with her blue veil. On the borders of the village they passed +the little railway station. By the side of the station-house there was a +new shop, which had a broad show-window filled with wooden wash-tubs. + +"This is the shop of Thomas Scotts, the tar-and-turpentine man who is in +love with Matilda Debbs," said Cicely. "How is that coming on now, Miss +Leontine?" + +Miss Leontine took down her handkerchief. "The family do not consent." + +"But there's nothing against the man, is there?" + +Miss Leontine took down the handkerchief again--she had already +replaced it. "As regards his character, n-nothing. But he is a +manufacturer of tubs. It appears that it is the business of the family; +his father also manufactures them. In Connecticut." + +"If Thomas Scotts should make a beautiful new tub for each of the Misses +Debbs, it wouldn't be a bad idea; there are twelve or fourteen of them, +aren't there?" + +"Ner-nine," replied the afflicted maiden lady, with almost a convulsion +of grief. "But two of them are yer-young yet." + +"And seven are not. Now seven new tubs." + +"Cecilia, let us have no more of this," said the judge. + +It was the first time he had spoken; Cicely put her hand behind her and +furtively pinched Eve's knee in token of triumph. + +They came into the main street of Gary Hundred. It was a broad avenue, +wandering vaguely onward amid four rows of trees; there was no pavement; +the roadway was deeply covered with yellow sand; the spacious sidewalks +which bordered it were equally in a state of nature. The houses, at some +distance back from the street, were surrounded by large straggling +gardens. Farther down were the shops, each with its row of +hitching-posts across the front. + +They left Miss Leontine at her own door, and went on towards the +residence of Cousin Sarah Cray. + +"Here comes Miss Polly's bread-cart, on the way back from Mellons," said +Cicely. "Grandpa, wouldn't it be a good idea to buy some little cakes?" + +The judge stopped the horse; Cicely beckoned to the old negro who was +wheeling the covered hand-cart along the sandy road. "Uncle Dan, have +you any cakes left?" + +Uncle Dan touched his hat, and opened the lid of the cart; there, +reposing on snowy napkins, were biscuit and bread, and little cakes of +inviting aspect. While Cicely made her selection, Eve bent down and took +one of the circulars which were lying, neatly piled, in a corner. It +announced, not in print, but in delicate hand-writing, that at the +private bakery, number ten Queen Street, Gary Hundred, fresh bread, +biscuits, and rolls could be obtained daily; muffins, crumpets, and +plum-cake to order. The circular was signed "Mary Clementina Diana +Wingfield." + +"They have names enough, those sisters," Eve commented. "Miss Leontine's +is Clotilda Leontine Elizabeth; I saw it in her prayer-book." + +Cousin Sarah Cray's residence was a large white house, with verandas +encircling it both up stairs and down; the palings of the fence were +half gone, the whole place looked pillaged and open. The judge drove up +to the door and helped Cicely to descend; and then Eve, who had little +Jack, fast asleep, in her arms. Cicely motioned to Eve to go into the +house; she herself followed her grandfather as he led the horse round to +the stables. Eve went in, carrying Jack and the cakes. Cousin Sarah +Cray, hurrying down the stairs to meet her, took the child +affectionately. "Dear little fellow, he begins to look right rosy." She +was delighted with the cakes. "They will help out the tea be-u-tifully; +we've only got waffles." + +Instead of going to her room, Eve took a seat at the window; she was +anxious about the judge. + +"Miss Polly's cakes are always so light," pursued Cousin Sarah Cray, +looking at them; "she never makes a mistake, there's never the tinetiest +streak of heaviness in _her_ little pounds! And her breads are elegant, +too; when one sees her beautiful hands, one wonders how she can do all +the kneading." + +"Does she do it herself?" + +"Every single bit; their old Susannah only heats the oven. It was a +courageous idea, Miss Bruce, from the beginning; you know they are among +our best people, and, after the war, they found themselves left with +nothing in the world but their house. They could have kept school in it, +of course, for they are accomplished beyond everything; Miss Leontine +paints sweetly--she was educated in France. But there was no one to come +to the school; the girls, of course, could not afford to go away." + +"You mean pupils?--to leave their homes and come here?" + +"No, I mean the girls, Polly and Leontine; they could not open a school +anywhere else--in Charleston, for instance; they had not money enough." + +"I beg your pardon--it was only that I did not recognize them as 'the +girls.'" + +"Well, I suppose they really are not quite girls any longer," responded +Cousin Sarah Cray, thoughtfully. "Polly is forty-four and Leontine +fifty-two; but I reckon they will always be 'the girls' to us, even if +they're eighty," she added, laughing. "Well, Polly had this idea. And +she has been so successful--you can't think! Her bread-cart goes over to +Mellons every day of your life, as regularly as the clock. And they buy +a great deal." + +"It's the camp, isn't it?--Camp Mellons?" + +"No; it has always been Mellons, Mellons Post-office. The camp is near +there, and it has some Yankee name or other, I believe; but of course +you know, my dear, that _we_ never go there." + +"You only sell them bread. I am glad, at least, that they buy Miss +Polly's. And does Miss Leontine help?" + +"I fancy not. Dear Miss Leontine is not as practical as Miss Polly; she +has a soft poetical nature, and she makes beautiful afghans. But the +judge prefers Miss Polly." + +"Does he really admire her?" said Eve, with a sudden inspiration. + +"Beyond everything," answered Cousin Sarah Cray, clasping her plump +hands. + +"Then will you please go out and tell him that she is coming here to +tea, that she will be here immediately?" + +"Mercy! But she won't." + +"Yes, she will; I will go and ask her. Do please make haste, Mrs. Cray; +we are so afraid, Cicely and I, that he will try to whip a negro." + +"Mercy!" said Cousin Sarah Cray again, this time in alarm; stout as she +was, she ran swiftly through the hall and across the veranda, her cap +strings flying, and disappeared on the way to the stables. + +Eve carried little Jack up-stairs, and gave him to Deely, the +house-maid; then, retracing her steps, she went out through the +side-gate, and up the street to the home of the Misses Wingfield. The +door stood open, Miss Polly was in the hall. She was a handsome woman, +vigorous, erect, with clear blue eyes, and thick sandy hair closely +braided round her well-shaped head. Eve explained her errand. "But +perhaps Miss Leontine told you?" she added. + +"No, Lonny told me nothing; she went straight to her room. I noticed +that she had been crying; but she is so sweet that she cries rather +easily. Whip, indeed! _I'd_ rather shoot." + +"We must keep the _judge_ from being whipped," Eve answered. + +"Yes, I suppose so; he is an old man, though he doesn't look it. I will +go with you, of course. Or rather I will follow you in a few moments." + +The post-office of Gary Hundred was opposite the Wingfield house; as Eve +crossed the broad street on her way back, the postmaster appeared at his +door, and beckoned to her mysteriously. He was a small elderly negro, +with a dignified manner; he wore blue goggles; Eve knew him slightly, +she had paid several visits to the office, and had been treated with +deferential attention. When she reached the sidewalk, therefore, she +paused. + +"Would yer min' droppin' in fer one brief momen', miss? 'Portant +marter." + +Eve stepped over the low sill of the small building--it was hardly more +than a shed, though smartly whitewashed, and adorned with bright green +blinds--and the postmaster immediately closed the door. He then +cautiously took from his desk a letter. + +"Dere's sump'n' rudder quare 'bout dishyer letter, miss," he said, +glancing towards the window to see that no one was looking in. "Carn't +be too pertikler w'en it's guv'ment business; en so we 'lowed to ax de +favior ef you'd sorter glimpse yer eye ober it fer us." + +"Read a letter?" said Eve. "Whose letter?" + +"Not de letter, but him _outside_, miss. Whoms is it? Dat's de p'int. En +I wouldn't have you s'pose we 'ain't guv it our bes' cornsideration. We +knows de looks ob mos' ob 'em w'at comes yere; but dishyer one's +diffunt. Fuddermo', de stamp's diffunt too." + +The postmaster's wife, a little yellow woman, was looking anxiously at +them from the small window in the partition of the real post-office, a +space six feet by three. + +Eve took the letter. "It's an English stamp. And the name is plainly +written, 'Henry Barker, Esquire; Gary Hundred.'" + +"No sech pusson yere. Dat's w'at I tol' Mister Cotesworth," said the +yellow woman, triumphantly. + +"Do you mean to tell me that you cannot read?" said Eve, surveying +"Mister Cotesworth," with astonishment. + +The government official had, for the moment, an abashed look. "We +'lowed," he began, "dat as you's fum de Norf--" + +But his wife interrupted him. "He reads better'n mos', miss, Mister +Cotesworth does. But his eyes done got so bad lately--dat's w'at. Take +de letter, Mister Cotesworth, and doan' trouble de lady no mo'. Fine +wedder, miss." She came round and opened the door officiously; "seem lak +we 'ain't nebber see finer." + +Miss Polly arrived at Cousin Sarah Cray's; she walked with apparent +carelessness round towards the stables, where the judge was +superintending the rubbing down and the feeding of the horse. A saddle +had been brought out, and was hanging on the fence; Cousin Sarah hovered +anxiously near. + +"Grandpa is going out for a ride," explained Cicely. "But I told him +that the poor horse must be fed first, in common charity; he has been +so far already--to Bellington and back." + +"Oh, but the judge is not going, now that I have come," said Miss Polly; +"he wouldn't be so uncivil." She went up to him; smiling winningly, she +put out her beautiful hand. + +The judge was always gallant; he took the fair hand, and, bending his +head, deposited upon it a salute. + +Miss Polly smiled still more graciously. "And is a stable-yard a place +for such courtesies, judge?" she said, in her rich voice, with her +luscious, indolent, Southern pronunciation. "Oh, surely not--surely not. +Let us go to Cousin Sarah Cray's parlor; I have something to tell you; +in fact, I came especially to see you." Looking very handsome and very +straight, she took his arm with a caressing touch. + +The judge admired Miss Polly deeply. + +And Miss Polly kept a firm hold upon his arm. + +The judge yielded. + + + + +VII. + + +"Sea-beaches," said Eve,--"the minds of such people; you can trace the +line of their last high tide, that is, the year when they stopped +reading. Along the judge's line, one finds, for instance, Rogers; he +really has no idea that there have been any new poets since then." + +"Dear me! We have always thought Horatio remarkably literary," protested +Cousin Sarah Cray. "That's his step now, I think." + +The judge came in, little Jack on his shoulder. "I believe he has +dropped some--some portions of his clothing on the stairs," he said, +helplessly. "It's astonishing--the facility he has." + +"And he has pulled off his shoes," added Eve, taking the little +reprobate and kissing him. "Naughty Jack. Tacks!" + +"Esss, tacks!" repeated Jack, in high glee. "Dey gets in Jack's foots." +That was all he cared for her warning legend. + +The judge sat down and wiped his forehead. "I have received a shock," he +said. + +"Pity's sake!--what?" asked Cousin Sarah Cray, in alarm. Poor Cousin +Sarah dealt in interjections. But it might be added that she had lived +through times that were exclamatory. + +"Our old friend, Roland Pettigru, is dead, Sarah; the news comes to us +in this--this Sheet, which, I am told, is published here." He drew a +small newspaper from his pocket. "With your permission, ladies, I will +read to you the opening sentence of an obituary notice which this--this +Sheet--has prepared for the occasion." He put on his spectacles, and, +holding the paper off at a distance, read aloud, with slow, indignant +enunciation, as follows: "'The Great Reaper has descended amongst us. +And this time he has carried back with him sadly brilliant sheaves; for +his arrows have been shot at a shining mark' (arrows for a reaper!" +commented the judge, surveying his audience squintingly, over his +glasses), "'and the aim has been only too true. Gaunt Sorrow stalks +abroad, we mourn with Pettigru Hill; we say--and we repeat--that the +death of Roland Pettigru has left a vortex among us.' Yes, vortex, +ladies;--the death of a quiet, cultivated gentleman a vortex!" + +At this moment Deely, the house-maid, appeared at the door; giving her +calico skirt a twist by way of "manners," she announced, "Miss Wungfy." + +Miss Leontine entered, carrying five books standing in a row upon her +left arm as though it had been a shelf. She shook hands with Cousin +Sarah Cray and Eve; then she went through the same ceremony with the +judge, but in a confused, downcast manner, and seated herself on a +slippery ottoman as near as possible to the door. + +"I hope you liked the books? Pray let me take them," said Eve, for Miss +Leontine was still balancing them against her breast. + +"Literature?" remarked the judge, who also seemed embarrassed. He took +up one of the volumes and opened it. "Ah, a novel." + +"Yes, but one that will not hurt you," Eve answered. "For Miss Leontine +prefers those novels where the hero and heroine are married to begin +with, and then fall in love with each other afterwards; everything on +earth may happen to them during this process--poisonings and murders and +shootings; she does not mind these in the least, for it's sure in any +case to be _moral_, don't you see, because they were married in the +beginning. And marriage makes everything perfectly safe; doesn't it, +Miss Leontine?" + +"I am sure I don't know," answered Miss Leontine, still a prey to +nervousness; "but--but I have always _supposed_ so. Yes. We read them +aloud," she added, turning for relief to Cousin Sarah Cray; "that is, I +read to Polly--in the evenings." + +"These modern novels seem to me poor productions," commented the judge, +turning over the pages of the volume he had taken. + +"Naturally," responded Eve. + +"May I ask why 'naturally'?" + +"Oh, men who read their Montaigne year after year without change, and +who quote Charles Lamb, never care for novels, unless, indeed, it may be +'Tom Jones.' Montaigne and Lamb, Latin quotations that are not hard, a +glass of good wine with his dinner, and a convexity of person--these +mark your non-appreciator of novels, from Warwickshire to Gary Hundred." + +"Upon my word, young lady--" began the judge, laughing. + +But Miss Leontine, by her rising, interrupted him. "I think I must go +now. Yes. Thank you." + +"But you have only just come," said Cousin Sarah Cray. + +"I stopped to leave the books. Yes; really; that was all. Thanks, you +are very kind. Yes; thank you." She fumbled ineffectually for the handle +of the door, and, when it was opened for her, with an embarrassed bow +she passed out, her long back bent forward, her step hurried. + +"I can't imagine what is the matter with her," said Cousin Sarah Cray, +returning. + +"I am afraid, Sarah, that I can inform you," answered the judge gravely, +putting down the volume. "I met her in her own garden about an hour ago, +and we fell into conversation; I don't know what possessed me, but in +relating some anecdote of a jocular nature which happened to be in my +mind at the time, by way of finish--I can't imagine what I was thinking +of--but I up and chucked her under the chin." + +"Chucked Miss Leontine!" exclaimed Cousin Sarah Cray, aghast, while Eve +gave way to irrepressible mirth. "Was she--was she deeply offended?" + +"She was simply paralyzed with astonishment. I venture to say"--here the +judge sent an eye-beam towards the laughing Eve--"I venture to say that +Miss Leontine has never been chucked under the chin in all her life +before." + +"Certainly not," answered Cousin Sarah Cray; "she is far too dignified." +Then, with a desire to be strictly truthful, she added, "Perhaps when +she was a baby?" + +But even this seemed doubtful. + +Not long after this the Misses Wingfield (it was really Miss Polly) gave +a party. + +"Must we go?" said Eve. + +"Why, it will be perfectly delightful!" answered Cousin Sarah Cray, +looking at her in astonishment. "Every one will be there. Let me see: +there will be ourselves, four; and Miss Polly and Miss Leontine, six; +then the Debbses, thirteen--fourteen if Mrs. Debbs comes; the Rev. Mr. +Bushey and his wife, sixteen. And perhaps there will be some one else," +she added, hopefully; "perhaps somebody has some one staying with them." + +"Thomas Scotts, the tub man, will not be invited," remarked Cicely. "He +will walk by on the outside. And look in." + +"There's nothing I admire more than the way you pronounce that name +Debbs," observed Eve. "It's plain Debbs; yet you call it Dessss--holding +on to all the s's, and hardly sounding the b at all--so that you almost +make it rhyme with noblesse." + +"That's because we like 'em, I reckon," responded Cousin Sarah Cray. +"They certainly are the _sweetest_ family!" + +"There's a faint trace of an original theme in Matilda. The others are +all variations," said the caustic Miss Bruce. + +They went to the party. + +"Theme and variations all here," said Cicely, as they passed the open +door of the parlor on their way up-stairs to lay aside their wraps; +"they haven't spared us a trill." + +"Well, you won't be spared either," said Cousin Sarah Cray. "_You'll_ +have to sing." + +She proved a true prophet; Cicely was called upon to add what she could +to the entertainments of the evening. Her voice was slender and clear; +to-night it pleased her to sing straight on, so rapidly that she made +mince-meat of the words of her song, the delicate little notes almost +seeming to come from a flute, or from a mechanical music-bird screwed to +a chandelier. Later, however, Miss Matilda Debbs supplied the missing +expression when she gave them: + + "Slee--ping, I _dreamed_, love, + Dreamed, love, of thee; + O'er--ther--bright _waves_, love, + Float--ing were we." + +Cicely seemed possessed by one of her wild moods. "I've been to the +window; the tar-and-turpentine man is looking over the gate," she said, +in a low voice, to Eve. "I'm going out to say to him, 'Scotts, wha hae! +Send in a tub.'" + +Presently she came by Eve's chair again. "Have you seen the geranium in +Miss Leontine's hair? Let us get grandpa out on the veranda with her, +alone; she has been madly in love with him ever since he chucked her +under the chin. What's more, grandpa knows it, too, and he's awfully +frightened; he always goes through the back streets now, like a thief." + +There was a peal at the door-bell. "Tar-and-turpentine man coming in," +murmured Cicely. + +Susannah appeared with a letter. "Fer Mis' Morrison," she said. + +There was a general laugh. For "Mister Cotesworth," not sure that Eve +would keep his secret, and alarmed for the safety of his official +position, had taken to delivering his letters in person; clad in his +best black coat, with a silk hat, the blue goggles, and a tasselled +cane, he not only delivered them with his own hands, but he declaimed +the addresses in a loud tone at the door. Not finding Cicely at home, he +had followed her hither. "Fer Mis' Fer'nen Morrison. A _ferwerded_ +letter," he said to Susannah in the hall, at the top of his voice. + +The judge had gone to the dining-room with Miss Polly, to see her little +dog, which was ailing. Cicely put the letter in her pocket. + +After a while she said to Eve, "I never have any letters, hardly." + +"But you must have," Eve answered. + +"No; almost never. I am going up-stairs for a moment, Eve. Don't come +with me." + +When she returned, more music was going on. As soon as she could, Eve +said, inquiringly, "Well?" + +"It was from Ferdie." + +"Is he coming back?" + +"Yes," responded Cicely, unmoved. + +Eve's thoughts had flown to her own plans. But she found time to think, +"What a cold little creature it is, after all!" + +At that moment they could say no more. + +About midnight, when Eve was in her own room, undressing, there was a +tap at the door, and Cicely entered. She had taken off her dress; a +forlorn little blue shawl was drawn tightly round her shoulders. + +She walked to the dressing-table, where Eve was sitting, took up a +brush, and looked at it vaguely. "I didn't mean to tell any one; but I +have changed my mind, I am going to tell you." Putting down the brush, +she let the shawl fall back. There across her white breast was a long +purple scar, and a second one over her delicate little shoulder. "He did +it," she said. Her eyes, fixed upon Eve's, were proud and brilliant. + +"You don't mean--you don't mean that your _husband_--" stammered Eve, in +horror. + +"Yes, Ferdie. He did it." + +"Is he mad?" + +"Only after he has been drinking." + +"Oh, you poor little thing!" said Eve, taking her in her arms +protectingly. "I have been so hard to you, Cicely, so cruel! But I did +not know--I did not know." Her tears flowed. + +"I am telling you on account of baby," Cicely went on, in the same +unmoved tone. + +"Has he dared to touch baby?" said Eve, springing up. + +"Yes, Eve; he broke poor baby's little arm; of course when he did not +know what he was doing. When he gets that way he does not know us; he +thinks we are enemies, and he thinks it is his duty to attack us. Once +he put us out-of-doors--baby and me--in the middle of the night, with +only our night-dresses on; fortunately it wasn't very cold. That time, +and the time he broke baby's arm (he seized him by the arm and flung him +out of his crib), we were not in Savannah; we were off by ourselves for +a month, we three. Baby was so young that the bone was easily set. +Nobody ever knew about it, I never told. But--but it must not happen +again." She looked at Eve with the same unmoved gaze. + +"I should rather think not! Give him to me, Cicely, and let me take him +away--at least for the present. You know you said--" + +"I said 'perhaps.' But I cannot let him go now--not just now. I am +telling you what has happened because you really seem to care for him." + +"I think I have showed that I care for him!" + +"Well, I have let you." + +"What are we to do, then, if you won't let me take him away?" said Eve, +in despair. "Will that man come here?" + +"He may. He will go to Savannah, and if he learns there that I am here, +he may follow me. But he will never go to Romney, he doesn't like +Romney; even in the beginning, when I begged him to go, he never would. +He--" She paused. + +"Jealous, I suppose," suggested the sister, with a bitter +laugh--"jealous of Jack's poor bones in the burying-ground. Your two +ghosts will have a duel, Cicely." + +"Oh, _Ferdie_ isn't dead!" said Cicely, with sudden terror. She grasped +Eve's arm. "Have you heard anything? Tell me--tell me." + +Eve looked at her. + +"Yes, I love him," said Cicely, answering the look. "I have loved him +ever since the first hour I saw him. It's more than love; it's +adoration." + +"You never said that of Jack." + +"No; for it wouldn't have been true." + +The two women faced each other--the tall Eve, the dark little wife. + +"Oh, if I could only get away from this hideous country--this whole +horrible South!" said Eve, walking up and down the room like a caged +tigress. + +"You would like him if you knew him," Cicely went on, gently. "It seldom +happens--that other; and when it doesn't happen, Eve--" + +Eve put out her hand with a repelling gesture. "Let me take baby and +go." + +"Not now. But he will be safe at Romney." + +"In Heaven's name, then, let us get him back to Romney." + +"Yes; to-morrow." + +Little Jack was asleep in his crib by the side of Eve's bed, for she +still kept him with her at night. Cicely went to the crib and looked at +her child; Eve followed her. + +The little boy's night-dress had fallen open, revealing one shoulder and +arm. "It was just here," whispered Cicely, kneeling down and softly +touching the baby-flesh. She looked up at Eve, her eyes thick with +tears. + +"Why, you care?" said Eve. "Care for him?--the baby, I mean." She spoke +her thoughts aloud, unwittingly. + +"Did you think I didn't care?" asked Cicely, with a smile. + +It was the strangest smile Eve had ever seen. + + + + +VIII. + + +Early spring at Romney. The yellow jessamine was nearly gone, the other +flowers were coming out; Atamasco lilies shone whitely everywhere; the +long line of the islands and the opposite mainland were white with +blossoms, the salt-marshes were freshly green; shoals, which had +wallowed under water since Christmas, lifted their heads; the great +river came back within its banks again. + +Three weeks had passed since their return to the island. They had made +the journey without the judge, who had remained in South Carolina to +give his aid to the widow of his old friend, Roland Pettigru, who had +become involved in a lawsuit. The three weeks had been slow and +anxious--anxious, that is, to Eve. Cicely had returned to her muteness. +Once, at the beginning, when Eve had pressed her with questions, she +said, as general answer, "In any case, Ferdie will not come here." After +that, when again--once or twice--Eve had asked, "Have you heard anything +more?" Cicely had returned no reply whatever; she had let her passive +glance rest upon Eve and then glide to something else, as though she had +not spoken. Eve was proud, she too remained silent. She knew that she +had done nothing to win Cicely's confidence; women understand women, and +Cicely had perceived from the first, of course, that Jack's sister did +not like her. + +But since that midnight revelation at Cousin Sarah Cray's, Eve no longer +disliked Cicely; on the contrary, she was attracted towards her by a +sort of unwilling surprise. Often, when they were with the others, she +would look at her twenty times in a half-hour, endeavoring to fathom +something of the real nature of this little girl (to Eve, Cicely always +seemed a school-girl), who had borne a tragedy in silence, covering it +with her jests, covering it also with her coldness. But was Cicely +really cold to all the world but Ferdie? She was not so, at least, as +regarded her child; no one who had seen her on her knees that night +beside the crib could doubt her love for him. Yet she let Eve have him +for hours at a time, she let her have him at night, without even Dilsey +to look after him; she never interfered, constantly as Eve claimed him +and kept him. In spite of her confidence in her own perceptions, in +spite of her confidence, too, in her own will, which she believed could +force a solution in almost every case, Eve Bruce was obliged to +acknowledge to herself that she was puzzled. + +Now and then she would be harassed by the question as to whether she +ought not to tell Miss Sabrina what she knew, whether she ought not to +tell the judge. But Cicely had spared them, and Cicely had asked her to +be equally merciful. At night, when lying awake, the horror of the poor +baby's broken arm would sometimes come to her so vividly that she would +light the candle in haste to see if he were safe. If Ferdie should come +here, after all! Cicely had said that he would not; but who could trust +Cicely,--loving the man as she did? To Eve, after all that had happened, +Cicely's love seemed a mania as insane as the homicidal deliriums of +the husband. + +As to these deliriums, she tried to picture what they must be: the baby +hurled from his little crib--that made her shudder with rage; she should +not be afraid of the madman, then; she should attack him in return! +Sometimes it was Cicely whom she saw, Cicely, shrinking under blows; it +must have been something heavy and sharp, a billet of wood, perhaps, +that had caused the scars across her white breast. She remembered that +once, when inwardly exasperated by Cicely's fresh fairness, she had +accused her of never having known what it was to be really tired in all +her life. Cicely had answered, rather hesitatingly, "I don't know that I +have ever been _tired_, exactly." She had not been tired--no. She had +only been half killed. + +The poor little girl's muteness, her occasional outbursts of wild sport, +her jests and laughter, her abstractions, and the coldness sometimes +seen in her beautiful eyes, were these the results of suffering? She +questioned Miss Sabrina a little. + +"She has always been the same, except that since her second marriage she +is much more quiet," replied the unconscious aunt. "Until then she was +like quicksilver, she used to run through the thickets so swiftly that +no one could follow her, and she used to play ball by the hour with--" +Here the speaker paused, disconcerted. + +"With Jack," Eve added, her face contracting with the old pain. + +Miss Sabrina had at last perceived this pain, and the discovery had +stopped her affectionate allusions. But she did not forget--Eve often +found her carefully made wreaths laid upon Jack's grave. As for Eve +herself, she never brought a flower; she walked to and fro beside the +mound, and the sojourn generally ended in angry thoughts. Why should +other people keep their loved ones, and she be bereft? What had she +done, what had Jack done, that was so wrong? God was not good, because +He was not kind; people did not ask Him to create them, but when once He +had done it for His own pleasure, and there they were, helpless, in His +world, why should He torture them so? To make them better? Why didn't He +make them better in the beginning, when He was creating them? Or else +not make them at all! + +One afternoon during the fourth week after their return to Romney, she +was on her way back with Miss Sabrina from Singleton Island; the two had +been dining there, the Southern three-o'clock dinner, and now at sunset +the row-boat was bringing them home. To Eve the visit had been like a +day's truce, a short period, when one merely waits; the afternoon was +beautiful, the Sound like a mirror; the home-island, when they left it, +had been peacefully lovely, the baby from his wagon kissing his hand to +them, and Dilsey squatting on the bank by his side, a broad grin of +contentment on her dusky face. Cicely had declined the invitation, +sending a jocular message to "little Rupert," which inspired him with +laughter all day. + +The dinner had been excellent as regards the succulence of its South +Carolina dishes. The damask tablecloth was thin from age, the +dinner-service a mixture of old Canton blue and the commonest, thickest +white plates; coarse dull goblets stood beside cut-glass wine-glasses; +the knives were in the last stage of decrepitude, and there was no +silver at all, not even a salt-spoon; it had been replaced by cheaply +plated spoons and forks, from which the plate was already half gone. +Blanche, the old negro woman, waited, assisted by the long-legged +Lucasta, and by little Boliver, who was attired for the occasion in a +pair of trousers which extended from his knees to his shoulders, over +which they were tightly strapped by means of strings. Boliver's part was +to bring the hot dishes from the outside kitchen, which was in a cabin +at some distance--a task which he performed with dignity, varied, +however, by an occasional somerset on the veranda, when he thought no +one was looking. Rupert was genial, very gallant to the ladies; he +carried his gallantry so far that he even drank their health several +times, the only wine being the mainland Madeira. Mrs. Singleton was +hospitable and affectionate, remaining unconscious (in manner) as to the +many deficiencies. And Eve looked on admiringly, as though it had been a +beautiful, half-pathetic little play; for to her it was all +pictorial--these ruined old houses on their blooming desolate islands, +with the ancient hospitality still animating them in spite of all that +had passed. The short voyage over, the row-boat stopped at Romney +landing. There was no one waiting for them; Abram assisted Miss Sabrina, +and then Eve, to step from one of the boat's seats to the dock. Eve +lingered for a moment, looking at the sunset; then she too turned +towards the house. The path winding under the trees was already dusky, +Miss Sabrina was a dozen yards in advance; as she approached a bend, Eve +saw some one come round it and meet her. It was a figure too tall to be +the judge; it was a young man; it was a person she had not seen; she +made these successive discoveries as she drew nearer. She decided that +it was a neighbor from one of the southern islands, who had taken +advantage of the lovely afternoon for a sail. + +When she came up she found Miss Sabrina half laughing, half crying; she +had given the stranger both her hands. "Oh, Eve, it is Ferdinand. And I +did not know him!" + +"How could you expect to know me, when you have never seen me in your +life?" asked the young man, laughing. + +"But we have your picture. I ought to have known--" + +"My dear aunt, never accuse yourself; your dearest friends will always +do that for you. I dare say my picture doesn't half do me justice." + +He spoke jestingly; but there was still twilight enough to show Eve that +what he had said was simply the truth. The photograph was handsome, but +the real face was handsomer, the features beautiful, the eyes blue and +piercing. + +"This is Cicely's sister Eve," said Miss Sabrina. "She has come out--so +kindly--from England to pay us a visit." + +Ferdinand put out his hand with a bright smile. He had a smile which +would have been a fitting one for a typical figure of youthful Hope. + +Eve could not refuse, conspicuously, to give him her hand in return. It +all seemed to her a dream--his sudden appearance in the dusky path, and +his striking beauty. She did not speak. But her muteness passed +unnoticed, because for once in her life Miss Sabrina was voluble, her +words tumbled over one another. "Such a surprise! _So_ nice! _so_ +delightful! How little we thought this morning, when we rose as usual, +and everything was the same--how little we thought that it would be such +a sweet, such a happy day!" + +Ferdinand laughed again, throwing back his handsome head a little--a +movement that was habitual with him. He gave Miss Sabrina his arm, drew +her hand through it and held it in his own, as they moved onward towards +the house. On the veranda, Cicely was waiting for them, her cheeks +flushed with pink. Eve expected a defiant look, a glance that would dare +her to express either her surprise or her fear; instead of that, +Cicely's eyes, meeting hers, were full of trust and sweetness, as if she +believed that Eve would sympathize with her joy, as if she had entirely +forgotten that there was any reason why Eve should not share it. Miss +Sabrina sympathized, if Eve did not; she kissed Cicely with a motherly +tenderness, and then, as she raised her wet eyes again towards +Ferdinand, she looked so extraordinarily pleased that the young man bent +and kissed her faded cheek. "There, auntie," he said, "now we've made +acquaintance; you must take me in as a genuine nephew. And improve me." + +"Oh, improve," murmured Miss Sabrina, gazing at him near-sightedly. She +put on her glasses (without turning her back) in order to see him more +clearly. It marked a great emotion on her part--the not turning her +back. + +Eve went to her room; she thought that Cicely would follow her. But no +one came until Powlyne knocked to say that tea was ready. At first Eve +thought that she would not go to the dining-room, that she would send +an excuse. The next moment she felt driven not only to go, but to +hasten; to be always present in order to see everything and hear +everything; this would be her office; she must watch for the incipient +stages of what she dreaded. Cicely had said that it happened rarely. +Would to God that the man would be touched by poor Miss Sabrina's loving +welcome, and by little Cicely's deep joy, and refrain. But perhaps these +very things would excite the longing that led to the madness! + +When she reached the dining-room and saw the bright faces at the table, +Miss Sabrina looking younger than she had looked for years, and wearing +the white lace cape, Cicely, too, freshly dressed, and Ferdinand, they +seemed to her like phantasmagoria. Or was it that these were the +realities, and the phantasms the frightful visions which had haunted her +nightly during all these waiting weeks? + +As Ferdie talked (already Miss Sabrina had begun to call him Ferdie), it +was impossible not to listen; there was a frankness in what he said, and +in his sunny smile, which was irresistibly winning. And the contrast +between these and his height and strength--this too was attractive. They +sat long at the table; Eve felt that she was the foreign element, not +he; that she was the stranger within their gates. She had made no change +in her dress; suddenly it occurred to her that Ferdie must hate her for +her mourning garb, which of course would bring Jack Bruce to his mind. +As she thought of this, she looked at him. His eyes happened to meet +hers at the moment, and he gave her a charming smile. No, there was no +hate there. In the drawing-room, later, he told them comical stories of +South America; he took Cicely's guitar and sang South American songs; +the three women sat looking at him, Cicely in her mute bliss, Miss +Sabrina with her admiration and her interest, Eve with her perplexity. +His hand, touching the strings, was well-shaped, powerful; was that the +hand which had struck a woman? A little child? As the evening wore on, +she almost began to believe that Cicely had invented the whole of her +damning tale; that the baby's arm had never been broken, and that her +own hurts had been received in some other way. She looked at Cicely. But +there was something very straightforward in her pure little face. + +At ten o'clock she rose. Cicely made no motion, she was evidently not +coming with her. + +"Can I speak to you for a moment, Cicely?" + +"Oh, yes," answered Cicely, with alacrity. "What is it?" She followed +Eve into the hall. + +Eve closed the door; then she drew her into the dining-room, which was +still lighted. "You said he would not come here." + +"Oh!" with a long breath; "he never would do it for me before, though I +asked him, and asked him. And yet he has done it now! Think of that!" + +Eve put her hands on Cicely's shoulders as if to keep her, to call her +back to realities. "Have you forgotten all you said that night at Mrs. +Cray's?" + +Cicely gave a joyful laugh. "Yes." Then, more defiantly, "Yes, I have +forgotten the whole!" But her tone changed back swiftly to its happy +confidence again: "Nothing will happen, Eve; you needn't be afraid." + +"Has he told you so?" + +"Oh, we never _speak_ of it," answered Cicely, looking at her with +large, surprised eyes. "Did you think we _spoke_ of it--of such a thing +as that? A husband and wife--people who love each other? But you needn't +be troubled; it's over forever." She disappeared. + +Eve waited a moment; then she went to her room. Before she reached her +door Cicely overtook her; she had run swiftly after her down the long +corridor. She put her arms round Eve from behind, and whispered, with +her lips against Eve's throat, "I ran after you to say that I hope that +_you_ will have, some day, as much happiness as mine." Then she was +gone, as swiftly as she had come. + +To wish her a love like her own, this seemed almost a curse, a +malediction. But, fortunately, there was no danger that she, Eve Bruce, +should ever fall a victim to such miseries; to love any man so +submissively was weakness, but to love as Cicely loved, that was +degradation! + +Her image gazed back at her from the mirror, fair in its tints, but +strangely, almost fiercely, proud; at that moment she was revolting, +dumbly, against the injustice of all the ages, past, present, and to +come, towards women. + + + + +IX. + + +Ferdie had been two weeks at Romney. + +Halcyon days they had seemed, each one beautiful from morning to night, +with blue skies and golden sunshine; blossoms covered the trees, the air +was full of perfume. Ferdie must always be doing something; besides the +hunting and fishing, he had made a new swing, a new dock; he had taught +the negroes base-ball; he had rowed and sailed hither and thither--up +the river, out to sea, and north and south along the sounds, paying +visits at the various islands when Cicely desired them. Every one was +delighted with him, from Miss Sabrina down to the smallest darky; the +captains of the Inland Route steamers grew accustomed to seeing him on +the dock at Jupiter Light; the store-keeper on the mainland opposite +looked out every morning for his sail coming across the Sound. Cicely, +in the same state of mute bliss, accompanied him everywhere; Miss +Sabrina went whenever the excursion was not too long. The negroes +followed him about in a troop; of their own accord they gave him the +title of "young marse." + +Through these days Eve felt herself an alien; Cicely said nothing to her +save when she was with the others; she never came to her in her own +room. And Eve could not feel that this neglect was caused by dislike; it +was simply the egotism of perfect happiness. When Eve was present, +Cicely talked to her; when she was not present, Cicely hardly remembered +her existence. Miss Sabrina was not quite so forgetful, but she too was +absorbed; Eve sometimes sat all the evening without speaking; +fortunately she could make her stay short, under the pretext of not +disturbing Jack by coming in late. She was not a timid woman, not a +woman easily disheartened; each long, solitary day (for she seldom +accompanied them), each silent evening, only strengthened her purpose of +carrying away the child. She kept him with her constantly; Cicely +allowed it, and Ferdie, after one or two good-natured attempts to carry +off the little boy for a romp, left him undisturbed to his aunt. Whether +Cicely had told him to do this, Eve did not know. + +Strangely enough, Ferdie talked to her more than the others did. Several +times, seeing her in the grove with Jack, he had come out to join her. +And always, as he approached, Eve would make some excuse, and send the +child farther away; this action on her part was involuntary. One morning +she had gone to the beach. She had been there half an hour when she saw +his figure emerging from the bush-bordered road. "Take Jack away," she +said quickly to Dilsey. + +Dilsey, vexed at being ordered off when handsome "young marse" was +approaching, took her charge round a point entirely out of sight, so +that Eve and Ferdie were alone. The child gone, Eve could turn all her +attention to the man by her side; her watching mood came upon her, the +mood in which she spent her evenings. Ferdie had thrown himself down on +the sand; handsome as he was, Eve had discovered faults in his face; the +features were in danger of becoming too sharp; a little more, and the +cheeks would be thin. The mouth had a flattening at the corners, a +partly unconscious, partly voluntary action of the muscles, like that +which accompanies a "dare" (so Eve described it to herself) on the part +of a boy who has come off conqueror in one fight, but who is expecting +another and severer one in a moment. This expression (it was visible +when he was silent) and a look in his eyes sometimes--these two things +seemed to Eve signs of the curse. They were slight signs, however; they +would not have been discovered by one woman in a thousand; for Ferdie +was not only handsome, there was also something charming about him. But +Eve had small admiration for the charming. + +To-day, as Ferdie lounged beside her, she determined to try an +experiment. + +"I am very anxious to have Jack," she began. + +"It seems to me that you do have him; it's a complete possession," +answered Ferdie, laughing; "I've scarcely been able to touch the +youngster since I came." + +"I mean that I want him to live with me, as though he were my own child; +I would bring him up with all possible care." + +"Have you made a vow, then, never to marry?" Ferdie demanded, looking at +her with a merry gleam in his eyes. + +"Should you object--if Cicely were willing to give him to me?" Eve +continued, a slight haughtiness in her manner alone replying to his +remark. + +"I suppose I couldn't, though I'm fond of the little chap." ("Fond!" Eve +thought. She looked at him, with parted lips, in suspense.) "But I can't +imagine Cicely's consenting," Ferdie went on; "she is devoted to the +child." + +"Not so much as she is to you." + +"Do you want _me_ to urge her to give him to you?" + +"Yes," Eve answered. + +"Why do you want him? For your own pleasure?" + +Eve hesitated a moment. "Partly." + +"Are you by any possibility fancying that you can take better care of +him than we can?" asked Ferdie, relapsing into his laugh, and sending +another pebble skimming over the shining waters. "Leaving Cicely aside, +I am the jolliest of fathers." + +"It must be that he does not know," Eve thought; "whatever his faults, +hypocrisy is not one of them." + +But this only made him the more terrible to her--a man who could change +so unconsciously into a savage. + +"Granting the jolliness, I wish you would ask Cicely," she said; "do it +for my sake. I am lonely, I shall grow lonelier. It would be everything +to me to have him." + +"Of course you will grow lonelier," said Ferdie. He turned towards her, +leaning on his elbow. "Come, let me advise you; don't be a forlorn old +maid. All women ought to marry; it is much better for them." + +"Are they then so sure to be happy?" asked Eve, sarcastically. + +"Of course they are.--The nice ones." + +Eve looked at him. "Even when married to brutes?--to madmen?" + +"Oh, you wouldn't select a brute. As for the madmen, they are locked +up," answered Ferdie, comfortably. + +Eve rose. "I don't know what I shall say next--if I stay here," was her +thought. + +"I wish you knew my brother Paul," remarked Ferdie as he lifted himself +from the sand. "_I_ can't argue with you, _I_ can't put you down" (his +smile as he said "put you down" was wonderfully sweet). "But he +could--Paul could; and what's more, he would, too! He hates a woman who +goes on as you do." + +"Your brother lives in Canada, I believe?" said Eve, coldly. + +"Canada?--what gave you that idea? He loathes Canada. He has charge of a +mine on Lake Superior. He has always worked tremendously hard, poor old +Paul! I have never approved of it, such a steady grind as that." + +"What is the name of the place?" + +"Port aux Pins; called by the natives Potterpins. Are you thinking of +going there?" + +"I may," Eve answered. Her tone was defiant in spite of herself; what +did she care for Port aux Pins and his brother, save for their +connection with his wretched self? + +They had begun to walk towards home; Dilsey was in advance with Jack. "I +beg you to urge Cicely to let me have him," Eve began again, her eyes +resting on Jack's little wagon. + +"You have made up your mind to ask a favor of me; you must want it +terribly," Ferdie responded. He took off his hat and let the breeze blow +over his forehead. "I will do what I can for you. Of course we cannot, +Cicely and I, give up her child to you entirely; but he might live with +you for part of the year, as you desire it so much. My intention is to +go back to Valparaiso; I like the life there, and I shall make it my +home; there are excellent houses to be had, I have one in view at this +moment. Later, of course, Cicely would wish her boy to come to her +there. But in the meantime, while he is still so young--yes, I will do +what I can for you; you may count upon me." + +"Thanks," answered Eve. Her words were humble, but she did not look +humble as she spoke them; Ferdie with his favors and his good-nature +seemed to her more menacing than ever. + +The tranquil life went on. Every morning she said to herself, "To-day +something must happen!" But the Arcadian hours continued, and two more +weeks passed slowly by. Eve began to hate the sunshine, the brilliant, +undimmed southern stars. + +"My dear, you are growing paler," said Miss Sabrina one day. "Perhaps +this sea-air of ours is not good for you." + +Eve wanted to reply: "Is it good to be watching every instant?--to be +listening and starting and thinking one hears something?" "You are +right; it is not," she answered aloud; "all the same, I will stay awhile +longer, if you will let me." + +"Oh, my dear--when we want you to _live_ here!" + +"Perhaps I shall die here," Eve responded, with a laugh. + +Miss Sabrina looked at her in surprise; for the laugh was neither gentle +nor sweet. + +Eve was tired, tired mentally and physically; this state of passive +waiting taxed her; action of some sort, even though accompanied by the +hardest conditions, would have been easier to her ardent unconquered +will. She occupied herself with Jack; she said as little as she could to +Ferdie; and she watched Cicely. Underneath this watchfulness there grew +up a strong contempt for love. + + + + +X. + + +"Eve!" A hand on Eve's shoulder. + +Eve sat up in bed with a start; Cicely stood beside her, candle in hand. +"Help me to dress Jack," she said. + +Eve was out of bed in an instant. She lighted her own candle. + +Cicely lifted the sleeping child from his crib, and began hastily to +dress him. Eve brought all the little garments quickly. "Are you going +to take him out of the house?" she asked. (They spoke in whispers.) + +"Yes." + +Eve threw on her own clothes. + +After a moment, during which the hands of both women moved rapidly, Eve +said, "Where is he?" + +"Outside--out of the house for the moment. But he will come back; and +then, if he comes down this hall, we must escape." + +"Where? We must have the same ideas, you know," said Eve, buttoning her +dress, and taking her hat and shawl from the wardrobe. + +"I thought we could go through the ballroom, and out by the north wing." + +"And once outside?" + +"We must hide." + +"But where?" + +"In the thicket." + +"It isn't a very large space. Supposing Jack should cry?" + +Cicely went on fastening Jack's little coat. "I can't talk!" + +"You needn't," said Eve; "I'll take care of you!" + +The hasty dressing completed, the two candles were extinguished. Jack +had fallen asleep again. Cicely held him herself; she would not let Eve +take him. They opened the door softly, and stood together outside in the +dark hall. The seconds passed and turned into minutes; the minutes +became three, then five; but the space of time seemed a half-hour. Eve, +standing still in the darkness, recovered her coolness; she stepped +noiselessly back into her room for a moment or two; then she returned +and resumed the watch. Cicely's little figure standing beside her looked +very small. + +By-and-by the door at the far end of the hall opened, and for the first +time in her life Eve saw a vision: Ferdie, half dressed and carrying a +lighted candle, appeared, his eyes fierce and fixed, his cheeks flushed. +At that moment his beauty was terrible; but he saw nothing, heard +nothing; he was like a man listening to something afar off. + +"Come," whispered Cicely. + +Swiftly and noiselessly she went round the angle of the corridor, opened +a door, and, closing it behind them, led the way to the north wing; Eve +followed, or rather she kept by her side. After a breathless winding +transit through the labyrinth of halls and chambers, they reached the +ballroom. + +"Now we can run," Cicely whispered. Silently they ran. + +Before they had quite reached the door at the far end, they heard a +sound behind them, and saw a gleam across the floor: he had not waited +in Eve's room, then; he had divined their flight, and was following. +Cicely's hand swiftly found and lifted the latch; she opened the door, +and they passed through. Eve gave one glance over her shoulder; he was +advancing, but he was not running; his eyes had the same stare. + +Cicely threw up a window, gave Jack to Eve, climbed by the aid of a +chair to the sill and jumped out; then she put up her arms for Jack, and +Eve followed her; they drew down the window behind them from the +outside. There was a moon, but dark clouds obscured its light; the air +was still. Cicely led the way to the thicket; pushing her way within, +she sank down, the bushes crackling loudly as she did so. "Hurry!" she +said to Eve. + +Eve crouched beside her beneath the dense foliage. They could see +nothing, but they could hear. They remained motionless. + +After several minutes of suspense they heard a step on the plank floor +of the veranda; he had made his way out. Then followed silence; the +silence was worse than the sound of his steps; they had the sense that +he was close upon them. + +After some time without another sound, suddenly his candle gleamed +directly over them; he had approached them unheard by the road, Eve not +knowing and Cicely having forgotten that it was so near. For an instant +Eve's heart stopped beating, she thought that they were discovered; +escape was cut off, for the thorns and spiny leaves held their skirts +like so many hands. But the fixed eyes did not see them; after a moment +the beautiful, cruel face, lit by the yellow gleam of the candle, +disappeared from above; the light moved farther away. He was going down +the road; every now and then they could see that he threw a ray to the +right and the left, as if still searching. + +"He will go through the whole thicket, now that he has the idea," Cicely +whispered. They crept into the road, Eve carrying Jack. But, once +outside, Cicely took him again. They stood erect, they looked back; he +and his candle were still going on towards the sea. + +Cicely turned; she took a path which led to the north point. "There's no +thicket there. And if he comes, there's a boat." + +The distance to the point was nearly a mile. The white sand of the track +guided them through the dark woods. + +"Shouldn't you be safer, after all, in the house?" Eve asked. + +"No, for this time he is determined to kill us; he thinks that I am some +one else, a woman who is going to attack his wife; and he thinks that +Jack is some other child, who has injured _his_ Jack." + +"He shall never touch Jack! Give him to me, Cicely; he is too heavy for +you." + +"I will not give him to any one--any one," Cicely answered, panting. + +As they approached the north point, the moon shone through a rift in the +clouds; suddenly it was as light as day; their faces and hands were +ivory white in the radiance. + +"What is that on your throat, and down the front of your dress?" said +Eve. "It's wet. Why, it's blood!" + +"Yes; I am cut here a little," Cicely answered, making a gesture with +her chin towards her left shoulder; "I suppose it has begun to bleed +again. He has a knife to-night. That is what makes me so afraid." + +The Sound now came into view. At the same instant Eve, looking back, +perceived a point of yellow light behind them; the path was straight for +a long distance, and the light was far away; but it was advancing in +their direction. Little Jack, fully awakened by their rapid flight, had +lifted his head, trying to see his mother's face; as no one paid any +attention to him, he began to cry. His voice seemed to make Cicely +frantic; clasping him close, pressing his head down against her breast, +she broke into a run. + +"Get into the boat and push off, don't wait for me; _I'm_ in no danger," +Eve called after her. She stood there watching. + +Cicely reached the beach, put Jack into the boat, and then tried to push +it off. It was a heavy old row-boat, kept there for the convenience of +the negroes who wished to cross to Singleton Island; to-night it was +drawn up so high on the sands that with all her effort Cicely could not +launch it. She strained every muscle to the utmost; in her ears there +was a loud rushing sound; she paused dizzily, turning her head away from +the water for a moment, and as she did so, she too saw the gleam, pale +in the moonlight, far down the path. She did not scream, there was a +tension in her throat which kept all sound from her parched mouth; she +climbed into the boat, seized Jack, and staggered forward with the vague +purpose of jumping into the water from the boat's stern; but she did not +get far, she sank suddenly down. + +"She has fainted; so much the better," Eve thought. Jack, who had fallen +as his mother fell, cried loudly. "He is not hurt; at least not +seriously," she said to herself. Then, turning into the wood, she made +her way back towards the advancing point of light. After some progress +she stopped. + +Ferdie was walking rapidly now; in his left hand he held his candle high +in the air; in his right, which hung by his side, there was something +that gleamed. The moonlight shone full upon his face, and Eve could see +the expression, whose slight signs she had noticed, the flattening of +the corners of the mouth; this was now so deepened that his lips wore a +slight grin. Jack's wail, which had ceased for several minutes, now +began again, and at the same instant his moving head could be seen above +the boat's side; he had disengaged himself, and was trying to climb up +higher, by the aid of one of the seats, in order to give larger vent to +his astonishment and his grief. + +Ferdie saw him; his shoulders made a quick movement; an inarticulate +sound came from his flattened, grimacing mouth. Then he began to run +towards the boat. At the same moment there was the crack, not loud, of a +pistol discharged very near. The running man lunged forward and fell +heavily to his knees; then to the sand. His arms made one or two +spasmodic movements. Then they were still. + +Eve's figure went swiftly through the wood towards the shore; she held +her skirts closely, as if afraid of their rustling sound. Reaching the +boat, she made a mighty effort, both hands against the bow, her body +slanting forward, her feet far behind her, deep in the sand and pressing +against it. She was very strong, and the boat moved, it slid down slowly +and gratingly; more and more of its long length entered the water, until +at last only the bow still touched the sand. Eve jumped in, pushed off +with an oar, and then, stepping over Cicely's prostrate form to reach +one of the seats, she sat down and began to row, brushing little Jack +aside with her knee (he fell down more amazed and grief-stricken than +ever), and placing her feet against the next seat as a brace. She rowed +with long strokes and with all her might; perhaps he was not much hurt, +after all; perhaps he too had a pistol, and could reach them. She +watched the beach breathlessly. + +The Sound was smooth; before long a wide space of water, with the +silvery path of the moon across it, separated them from Abercrombie +Island. Still she could not stop. She looked at Cicely's motionless +figure; Jack, weary with crying, had crawled as far as one of her knees +and laid his head against it, sobbing "Aunty Eve? Aunty Eve?" + +"Yes, darling," said Eve, mechanically, still watching the other shore. + +At last, with her hands smarting, her arms strained, she reached +Singleton Island. After beaching the boat, she knelt down and chafed +Cicely's temples, wetting her handkerchief by dipping it over the boat's +side, and then pressing it on the dead-white little face. Cicely sighed. +Then she opened her eyes and looked up, only half consciously, at the +sky. Next she looked at Eve, who was bending over her, and memory came +back. + +"We are safe," Eve said, answering the look; "we are on Singleton +Island, and no one is following us." She lifted the desperate little +Jack and put him in his mother's arms. + +Cicely sat up, she kissed her child passionately. But she fell back +again, Eve supporting her. + +"Let me see that--that place," Eve said. With nervous touch she turned +down the little lace ruffle, which was dark and limp with the stain of +the life-tide. + +"It's nothing," murmured Cicely. The cut had missed its aim, it was low +down on the throat, near the collar-bone; it was a flesh-wound, not +dangerous. + +Cicely pushed away Eve's hands and sat up. "Where is Ferdie?" she +demanded. + +"He--he is on the other island," Eve answered, hesitatingly. "Don't you +remember that he followed us?--that we were trying to escape?" + +"Well, we have escaped," said Cicely. "And now I want to know where he +is." + +She got on her feet, stepped out of the boat to the sand, and lifted +Jack out; she muffled the child in a shawl, and made him walk with her +to the edge of the water. Here she stood looking at the home-island, +straining her eyes in the misty moonlight. + +Eve followed her. "I think the farther away we go, Cicely, the better; +at least for the present. The steamer stops at Singleton Landing at +dawn; we can go on board as we are, and get what is necessary in +Savannah." + +"Why don't I see him on the beach?" said Cicely. "I could see him if he +were there--I could see him walking. If he followed us, as you say, why +don't I see him!" She put a hand on each side of her mouth, making a +circle of them, and called with all her strength, "Ferdie? Fer-die?" + +"Are you mad?" said Eve. + +"Fer-die?" cried Cicely again. + +Eve pulled down her hands. "He can't hear you." + +"Why can't he?" said Cicely, turning and looking at her. + +"It's too far," answered Eve, in a trembling voice. + +"Perhaps he has gone for a boat," Cicely suggested. + +"Yes, perhaps he has," Eve assented, eagerly. And for a moment the two +women gazed southward with the same hopefulness. + +Then Eve came back to reality. "What are we thinking of? Do you want to +have Jack killed?" + +Cicely threw up her arms. "Oh, if it weren't for Jack!" Her despair at +that moment gave her majesty. + +"Give him to me; let _me_ take him away," urged Eve again. + +"I will never give him to any one; I will never leave him, never." + +"Then you must both go with me for the present; we will go farther north +than Savannah; we will go to New York." + +"There is only one place I will go to--one person, and that is Paul; +Ferdie _loves_ Paul;--I will go nowhere else." + +"Very well; we will go to Paul." + +The struggle was over; Cicely's voice had grown lifeless. Little Jack, +tired out, laid himself despairingly down on the sand; she sat down +beside him, rearranged the shawl under him and over him, and then, as he +fell asleep, she clasped her hands round her knees, and waited inertly, +her eyes fixed on the opposite beach. + +Eve, standing behind her, also watched the home-island. "If I could only +see him!" was her constant prayer. She was even ready to accept the +sight of a boat shooting from the shadows which lay dark on the western +side, a boat coming in pursuit; he would have had time, perhaps, to get +to the skiff which was kept on that side, not far from the point; he +knew where all the boats were. Five minutes--six--had elapsed since they +landed; yes, he would have had time. She looked and looked; she was +almost sure that she saw a boat advancing, and clasped her hands in joy. + +But where could they go, in case he should really come? To Singleton +House, where there was only a lame old man, and women? There was no door +there which he could not batter down, no lock which could keep him +out--the terrible, beautiful madman. No; it was better to think, to +believe, that he _could_ not come. + +She walked back to the trees that skirted the beach, leaned her clasped +arms against the trunk of one of them, and, laying her head upon the arm +that was uppermost, stood motionless. + + + + +XI. + + +The dawn was still very faint when the steamer stopped at Singleton +Landing. There was no one waiting save an old negro, who caught the +shore rope, and there was no one stirring on the boat save the gruff +captain, muffled in an overcoat though the night was warm, and two +deck-hands, who put ashore a barrel and a sack. Lights were burning +dimly on board; the negro on the dock carried a lantern. + +Two women came from the shadows, and crossed the plank to the lower +deck, entering the dark space within, which was encumbered with loose +freight--crates of fowls, boxes, barrels, coils of rope. The taller of +the two women carried a sleeping child. + +For Cicely had come to the end of her strength; she could hardly walk. + +Eve found the sleepy mulatto woman who answered to the name of +stewardess, and told her to give them a cabin immediately. + +"Cabin? Why, de cabin's dish-yere," answered the woman, making a motion +with her hand to indicate the gaudy little saloon in which they stood. +She surveyed them with wonder. + +"State-room," murmured Cicely. + +Upon the lower bed in the very unstately white cell which was at last +opened for them, her little figure was soon stretched out, +apathetically. Her eyes remained closed; the dawn, as it grew brighter, +did not tempt her to open them; she lay thus all day. Jack slept +profoundly for several hours on the shelf-like bed above her. Then he +woke, and instantly became very merry, laughing to see the shining green +water outside, the near shores, the houses and groves and fields, and +now and then a row-boat under sail. Eve brought him some bread and milk, +and then she gave him a bath; he gurgled with laughter, and played all +his little tricks and games, one after the other. But Cicely remained +inert, she could not have been more still if she had been dead; the rise +and fall of her chest as she breathed was so slight that Eve was obliged +to look closely in order to distinguish it at all. Just before they +reached Savannah she raised her to a sitting position, and held a cup of +coffee to her lips. Cicely drank. Then, as the steamer stopped, Eve +lifted her to her feet. + +Cicely's eyes opened; they looked at Eve reproachfully. + +"It will only take a few moments to go to the hotel," Eve answered. + +She called the stewardess and made her carry Jack; she herself half +carried Cicely. She signalled to the negro driver of one of the +carriages waiting at the dock, and in a few minutes, as she had said, +she was undressing her little sister-in-law and lifting her into a cool, +broad bed. + +Jack asleep, she began her watch. The sun was setting, she went to one +of the windows, and looked out. Below her was a wide street without +pavement, bordered on each side by magnificent trees. She could see this +avenue for a long distance; the perspective made by its broad roadway +was diversified, every now and then, by a clump of greenery standing in +the centre, with a fountain or a statue gleaming through the green. +Trees were everywhere; it was a city in a grove. She remembered her +first arrival off this coast, when she came from England,--Tybee Light, +and then the lovely river; now she was passing through the same city, +fleeing from--danger?--or was it from justice? Twilight deepened; she +left the window and sat down beside the shaded lamp; her hands were +folded upon her lap, her gaze was fixed unseeingly upon the carpet. +After ten minutes had passed, she became conscious of something, and +raised her eyes; Cicely was looking at her. Eve rose and went to her. +"Are we in Savannah?" Cicely asked. + +"Yes." + +Cicely continued to look at her. "If you really want me to go on, you +had better take me at once." + +"But you were too tired to go on--" + +"It is not a question of tired, I shall be tired all my life. But if you +don't want me to go back by the first boat to-morrow, you had better +take me away to-night." + +"By the midnight train," Eve answered. + +And at midnight they left Savannah. + +At Charleston they were obliged to wait; there had been a flood, and the +track was overflowed. + +Some purchases were necessary for their comfort; Eve did not dare to +leave Cicely with Jack, lest she should find them both gone on her +return; she therefore took them with her, saying to the negro coachman, +privately, "If that lady should tell you to return to the hotel or to +drive to the steamer when I am not with you, pay no attention to her; +she is ill, and not responsible for what she says." + +As she was coming out of a shop, a face she knew met her eyes--Judge +Abercrombie. He had come from Gary Hundred that morning, and was on his +way to Romney; he intended to take the evening boat. + +He recognized them; he hurried to the carriage door, astonished, +alarmed. Eve seemed cowed by his presence. It was Cicely who said, "Yes, +we are here, grandpa. Get in, and I will tell you why." + +But when the old man had placed himself opposite to her, when Eve had +taken her seat again and the carriage was rolling towards the hotel, +Cicely still remained mute. At last she leaned forward. "I can't tell +you," she said, putting her hand into his; "at least I can't tell you +now. Will you wait, dear? Do wait." Her voice, as she said this, was +like the voice of a little girl of ten. + +The old man, wondering, held her hand protectingly. He glanced at Eve. +But Eve's eyes were turned away. + +The drive was a short one. As they entered Cicely's room, Eve took Jack +in her arms and went out again into the hall, closing the door behind +her. + +The hall was long, with a window at each end; a breeze blew through it, +laden with the perfume of flowers. Jack clamored for a game; Eve raised +him to her shoulder, and went to the window at the west end; it +overlooked a garden crowded with blossoms; then she turned and walked to +the east end, Jack considering it a march, and playing that her shoulder +was his drum; the second window commanded a view of the burned walls of +the desolated town. Eight times she made the slow journey from the +flowers to the ruins, the ruins to the flowers. Then Cicely opened the +door. "You can come in now. Grandpa knows." + +Grandpa's face, in his new knowledge, was pitiful to see. He had +evidently been trying to remain calm, and he had succeeded so far as to +keep his features firm; but his cheeks, which ordinarily were tinted +with pink, had turned to a dead-looking yellow. "I should be greatly +obliged if you would come with me for a walk," he said to Eve; "I have +travelled down from Gary Hundred this morning, and, after being shut up +in the train, you know, one feels the need of fresh air." He rose, and +gave first one leg and then the other a little shake, with a pathetic +pretence of preparing for vigorous exercise. + +"I don't think I can go," Eve began. But a second glance at his +dead-looking face made her relent, or rather made her brace herself. She +rang the bell, and asked one of the chamber-maids to follow them with +Jack; once outside, she sent the girl forward. "I have taken Jack +because we cannot trust Cicely," she explained. "If she had him, she +might, in our absence, take him and start back to the island; but she +will not go without him." + +"Neither of them must go back," said the judge. He spoke mechanically. + +They went down the shaded street towards the Battery. "And there's +Sabrina, too, poor girl! How do we know what has happened to her!" Eve +hesitated. Then she said, slowly, "Cicely tells me that when these +attacks are on him, he is dangerous only to herself and Jack." + +"That makes him only the greater devil!" answered the judge. "What I +fear is that he is already on her track; he would get over the attack +soon--he is as strong as an ox--and if he should reach her,--have a +chance at her with his damned repentant whinings--We must get off +immediately! In fact, I don't understand why you are stopping here at +all," he added, with sudden anger. + +"We couldn't go on; the track is under water somewhere. And perhaps we +need not hurry so." She paused. "I suppose you know that Cicely will go +only to Paul Tennant," she added. "She refuses to go anywhere else." + +"Where the devil is the man?" + +"It's a place called Port aux Pins, on Lake Superior. I really think +that if we don't take her to him at once, she will leave us and get back +to Ferdie, in spite of all we can do." + +"If there's no train, we'll take a carriage, we'll drive," declared the +judge. "This is the first place he'll come to; we won't wait _here_!" + +"There'll be a train this evening; they tell me so at the hotel," Eve +answered. Then she waited a moment. "We shall have to stop on the way, +Cicely is so exhausted; I suppose we go to Pittsburgh, and then to +Cleveland to take the lake steamer; if you should write to Miss Sabrina +from here, the answer might meet us at one of those places." + +"Of course I shall write. At once." + +"No, don't write!" said Eve, grasping his arm suddenly. "Or at least +don't let her send any answer until the journey is ended. It's better +not to know--not to know!" + +"Not to know whether poor Sabrina is safe? Not to know whether that +brute is on our track? I can't imagine what you are thinking of; perhaps +you will kindly explain?" + +"It's only that my head aches. I don't know what I am saying!" + +"Yes, you must be overwrought," said the judge. He had been thinking +only of Cicely. "You protected my poor little girl, you brought her +away; it was a brave act," he said, admiringly. + +"It was for Jack, I wanted to save my brother's child. Surely that was +right?" Eve's voice, as she said this, broke into a sob. + +"They were in danger of their lives, then?" asked the grandfather, in a +low tone. "Cicely didn't tell me." + +"She did not know, she had fainted. A few minutes more, and I believe he +would--We should not have them now." + +"But you got the boat off in time." + +"But I got the boat off in time," Eve repeated, lethargically. + +They had now reached the Battery Park; they entered and sat down on one +of the benches; the negro girl played with Jack on the broad walk which +overlooks the water. The harbor, with Sumter in the distance, the two +rivers flowing down, one on each side of the beautiful city--beautiful +still, though desolated by war--made a scene full of loveliness. The +judge took off his hat, as if he needed more air. + +"You are ill," said Eve, in the same mechanical voice. + +"It's only that I cannot believe it even now--what Cicely told me. Why, +it is my own darling little grandchild, who has been treated so, who has +been beaten--struck to the floor! His strong hand has come down on _her_ +shoulder so that you could hear it!--_Cicely_, Eve; my little _Cicely_!" +His old eyes, small and dry, looked at Eve piteously. + +She put out her hand and took his in silence. + +"She has always been such a delicate little creature, that we never let +her have any care or trouble; we even spoke to her gently always, +Sabrina and I. For she was so delicate when she was a baby that they +thought she couldn't live; she had her bright eyes, even then, and she +was so pretty and winning; but they said she must soon follow her +mother. We were so glad when she began to grow stronger. But--have we +saved her for this?" + +"She is away from him now," Eve answered. + +"And there was her father--my boy Marmaduke; what would Duke have +said?--his baby--his little girl!" He rose and walked to and fro; for +the first time his gait was that of a feeble old man. + +"They can't know what happens to us here!--or else that they see some +way out of it that we do not see," said Eve, passionately. "Otherwise, +it would be too cruel." + +"Duke died when she was only two years old," the judge went on. +"'Father,' he said to me, just at the last, 'I leave you baby.' And this +is what I have brought her to!" + +"You had nothing to do with it, she married him of her own free will. +And she forgot everything, she forgot my brother very soon." + +"I don't know what she forgot, I don't care what she forgot," the old +man answered. He sat down on the bench again, and put his hands over his +face. He was crying--the slow, hard tears of age. + +At sunset they started. The negro chamber-maid, to whom Jack had taken a +fancy, went with them as nurse, and twenty shining black faces were at +the station to see her off. + +"_Good-bye_, Porley; take keer yersef." + +"Yere's luck, Porley; doan yer forgot us." + +"Step libely, Jonah; Porley's a-lookin' at yer." + +"Good-lye, Porley!" + +The train moved out. + + + + +XII. + + +A dock on the Cuyahoga River, at Cleveland. The high bows of a propeller +loomed up far above them; a wooden bridge, with hand-rails of rope, +extended from a square opening in its side to the place where they were +standing--the judge, bewildered by the deafening noise of the +letting-off of steam and by the hustling of the deck-hands who ran to +and fro putting on freight; little Jack, round-eyed with wonder, +surveying the scene from his nurse's arms; Cicely, listless, unhearing; +and Eve, with the same pale-cheeked self-control and the same devoted +attention to Cicely which had marked her manner through all their rapid +journey across the broad country from Charleston to Washington, from +Washington to Pittsburgh, from Pittsburgh to Cleveland. + +"I think we cross here," she said; "by this bridge." She herself went +first. The bridge ascended sharply; little slats of wood were nailed +across its planks in order to make the surface less slippery. The yellow +river, greasy with petroleum from the refineries higher up the stream, +heaved a little from the constant passing of other craft; this heaving +made the bridge unsteady, and Eve was obliged to help the nurse when she +crossed with Jack, and then to lead Cicely, and to give a hand to the +judge, who came last. + +"You are never dizzy," said the judge. + +"No, I am never dizzy," Eve answered, as though she were saying the +phrase over to herself as a warning. + +She led the way up a steep staircase to the cabin above. This was a long +narrow saloon, decked with tables each covered with a red cloth, whereon +stood, in white vases representing a hand grasping a cornucopia, formal +bouquets, composed principally of peonies and the foliage of asparagus. +Narrow doors, ornamented with gilding, formed a panelling on each side; +between the doors small stiff sofas of red velvet were attached by iron +clamps to the floor, which was covered with a brilliant carpet; above +each sofa, under the low ceiling, was a narrow grating. Women and a few +men sat here and there on the sofas; they looked at the new passengers +apathetically. Lawless children chased one another up and down the +narrow spaces between the sofas and the tables, forcing each person who +was seated to draw in his or her legs with lightning rapidity as they +passed; babies with candy, babies with cookies, babies with apples, +crawled and tottered about on the velvet carpet, and drew themselves up +by the legs of the tables, leaving sticky marks on the mahogany +surfaces, and generally ending by striking their heads against the top, +sitting down suddenly and breaking into a howl. Eve led the way to the +deck; she brought forward chairs, and they seated themselves. A +regularly repeated and deafening clash came from the regions below; the +deck-hands were bringing steel rails from a warehouse on the dock, and +adding them one by one to the pile already on board by the simple method +of throwing them upon it. After the little party had sat there for +fifteen minutes, Eve said, "It is--it is insupportable!" + +"You feel it because you have not slept. You haven't slept at all since +we started," said Cicely, mentioning the fact, but without evident +interest in it. + +"Yes I have," responded Eve, quickly. + +There came another tremendous clash. Eve visibly trembled; her cheeks +seemed to grow more wan, the line between her eyes deepened. + +"This noise must be stopped!" said the old planter, authoritatively. He +got up and went to the side. + +"_They_ won't stop," said Cicely. + +Eve sat still, the tips of the fingers of each of her hands pressed hard +into the palm, and bits of her inner cheek held tightly between her +teeth. At last the rails were all on board and the gangways hauled in; +the propeller moved slowly away from her dock, a row of loungers, with +upturned faces, watching her departure, and visibly envying the captain, +who called out orders loudly from the upper deck--orders which were +needed; for the river was crowded with craft of all kinds, and many +manoeuvres were necessary before the long steamer could turn herself +and reach the open lake. She passed out at last between two piers, down +which boys ran as fast as they could, racing with the engine to see +which should reach the end first. At last they were away, and the noises +ceased; there was only the regular throb of the machinery, the sound of +the water churned by the screw. The sun was setting; Eve looked at the +receding shores--the spires of Cleveland on the bluffs which rise from +the Cuyahoga, the mass of roofs extending to the east and the west, +bounded on the latter side by the pine-clad cliffs of Rocky River. After +the splendid flaming sunset, the lake grew suddenly dark; it looked as +vast and dusky as the ocean. Cicely sprang up. "I know I shall never +come back across all this water!--I know I never, never shall!" + +"Yes, you will, little girl," answered her grandfather, fondly. + +"I don't mind. But I can't stay here and think! They must be doing +something in there--all those people we saw in the cabin; I am going in +to see." She went within, and Eve followed her; the nurse carried Jack +after his mother. But the judge remained where he was; he sat with one +hand laid over the other on the top of his cane. He looked at the dark +lake; his feeling was, "What is to become of us?" + +Within, all was animation; the tables had been pushed together by a +troop of hurrying darkies in white aprons, and now the same troop were +bringing in small open dishes, some flat and some bowl-like, containing +an array of food which included everything from beefsteak to ice-cream. +The passengers occupying the sofas watched the proceedings; then, at the +sound of a tap on the gong, they rose and seated themselves on the round +stools which did duty as chairs. + +"Come," said Cicely, "let us go too." She seated herself; and again Eve +patiently followed her. Cicely tasted everything and ate nothing. Eve +neither tasted nor ate; she drank a glass of water. When the meal was +over she spoke to one of the waiters, and gave him a fee; ten minutes +later she carried out to the old man on the deck, with her own hands, a +tray containing freshly cooked food, toast and tea; she arranged these +on a bench under the hanging lamp (for the deck at the stern was +covered); then she drew up a chair. The judge had not stirred. + +"Won't you come?" said Eve, gently. "I have brought it for you." + +The judge rose, and, coming to the improvised table, sat down. He had +not thought that he could touch anything, but the hot tea roused him, +and before he knew it he was eating heartily. "Do you know, I--I believe +I was cold," he said, trying to laugh. "Yes--even this warm night!" + +"I think we are all cold," Eve answered; "we are all numbed. It will be +better when we get there--wherever it is." + +The judge, warmed and revived, no longer felt so dreary. "You are our +good angel," he said. And, with his old-fashioned courtesy, he bent his +head over her hand. + +But Eve snatched her hand away and fled; she fairly ran. He looked after +her in wonder. + +Within, the tables had again been cleared, and then piled upon top of +one another at one end of the saloon; in front of this pile stretched a +row of chairs. These seats were occupied by the orchestra, the same +negro waiters, with two violins and a number of banjoes and guitars. + + "Forward one; forward two-- + De engine keeps de time; + Leabe de lady in de centre, + Bal-unse in er line," + +sang the leader to the tune of "Nelly Bly," calling off the figures of +the quadrille in rhymes of his own invention. Three quadrilles had been +formed; two thin women danced with their bonnets on; a tall man in a +linen duster and a short man in spectacles bounded about without a +smile, taking careful steps; girls danced with each other, giggling +profusely; children danced with their mothers; and the belle of the +boat, a plump young woman with long curls, danced with two youths, +changing impartially after each figure, and throwing glances over her +shoulder meanwhile at two more who stood in the doorway admiring. The +throb of the engine could be felt through the motion of the twenty-four +dancers, through the clear tenor of the negro who sang. Outside was the +wide lake and the night. + +Sitting on one of the sofas, alone, was Cicely. She was looking at the +dancers intently, her lips slightly parted. Eve sat down quietly by her +side. + +"Oh, how you follow me!" said Cicely, moving away. + +Then suddenly she began to laugh. "See that man in the linen duster! He +takes such mincing little steps in his great prunella shoes. See him +smile! Oh! oh!" She pressed her handkerchief over her lips to stifle her +spasmodic laughter. But she could not stifle it. + +"Come," said Eve, putting her arm round her. Their state-room was near, +she half carried her in. Light came through the gilded grating above. +Cicely still laughed, lying in the lower berth; Eve undressed her; with +soothing touch she tried to calm her, to stop her wild glee. + +"He turned out his toes in those awful prunella shoes!" said Cicely, +breaking into another peal of mirth. + +"Hush, dear. Hush." + +"I wish you would go away. You always do and say the wrong thing," said +Cicely, suddenly. + +"Perhaps I do," answered Eve, humbly enough. + +Jack was asleep in the upper berth; she herself (as she would not leave +them) was to occupy an improvised couch on the floor. But first she went +out softly, closing the door behind her; she was going to look for her +other charge. The judge, however, had gone to bed, and Eve came back. +The dancing had ceased for the moment; a plump young negro was singing, +and accompanying himself on the guitar; his half-closed eyes gazed +sentimentally at the ceiling; through his thick lips came, in one of the +sweetest voices in the world, + + "No one to love, + None to cay-ress; + Roam-ing alone _through_ + This world's wilderness--" + +Eve stood with her hand on her door for an instant looking at him; then +she looked at the listening people. Suddenly it came over her: "Perhaps +it is all a dream! Perhaps I shall wake and find it one!" + +She went in. Cicely was in her lethargic state, her hands lying +motionless by her sides, her eyes closed. Eve uncoiled her own fair hair +and loosened her dress; then she lay down on her couch on the floor. + +But she could not sleep; with the first pink flush of dawn she was glad +to rise and go out on deck to cool her tired eyes in the fresh air. The +steamer was entering the Detroit River; deep and broad, its mighty +current flowed onward smoothly, brimming full between its low green +banks; the islands, decked in the fresh verdure of early summer, looked +indescribably lovely as the rising sun touched them with gold; the +lonely gazer wished that she might stop there, might live forever, hide +forever, in one of these green havens of rest. But the steamer did not +pause, and, laggingly, the interminable hours followed one another +through another day. They were now crossing Lake Huron, they were out of +sight of land; the purity of the cool blue water, ruffled by the breeze +into curls of foam, made a picture to refresh the weariest vision. But +Eve looked at it unseeingly, and Cicely did not look at all; the judge, +too, saw nothing--nothing but Cicely. There had been no letter at +Cleveland; for tidings they must still wait. Cicely had written a few +lines to Paul Tennant, announcing their arrival. But to Eve it seemed as +if they should never arrive, as if they should journey forever on this +phantom boat, journey till they died. + +At last Lake Huron was left behind; the steamer turned and went round +the foaming leap of the St. Mary's River, the Sault Sainte Marie (called +by lake-country people the Soo), and entered Lake Superior. Another +broad expanse of water like a sea. At last, on the fifth day, Port aux +Pins was in sight, a spot of white amid the pines. They were all +assembled at the bow--Cicely, Eve, the judge, and Porley with little +Jack; as the pier came into view with the waiting group of people at its +end, no one spoke. Nearer and nearer, now they could distinguish +figures; nearer and nearer, now they could see faces. Cicely knew which +was Paul immediately, though she had never seen him. The judge took the +knowledge from her eyes. Now people began to call to friends on the +pier. Now the pier itself touched the steamer's side, the gangways were +put out, and persons were crossing; in another minute a tall man had +joined them, and, bending his head, had kissed Cicely. + +"Mr. Tennant?" the judge had asked. + +"Yes," answered Paul Tennant. He was looking at Cicely, trying to +control a sudden emotion that had surprised him,--a man not given to +emotions; he turned away for a moment, patting Jack's head. "She is so +young!" he murmured to the judge. + +"Paul," said Cicely, coming to them, "you have heard from Ferdie? There +are letters?" + +"No, I haven't heard lately. There are two letters for you, but they are +not in his handwriting." + +"Are they here?" + +Paul's eyes turned rapidly, first to the judge, then to Eve. Eve's eyes +answered him. + +"At the house," he said. + +"Is it far? Let us go at once." And Cicely turned towards the stairs. + +"It's at the other end of the town; I've a wagon waiting." + +Cicely was already descending. She crossed the gangway with rapid step; +she would not wait for their meagre luggage. "Take me there at once, +please; the wagon can come back for the others." + +"I must go too," said Eve. The tone of her voice was beseeching. + +"Get in, then," said Cicely. "Paul, take us quickly, won't you?" In her +haste she seized the reins and thrust them into his hands. She would not +sit down until he had taken his seat. + +"I will send the wagon back immediately," Paul said to the judge. Then, +seeing the lost look of the old planter, he called out: "Hollis! Here a +moment." + +A thin man with gray hair detached himself from the group of loungers on +the pier, and hurried towards them. + +"Judge Abercrombie, this is Mr. Christopher Hollis," said Paul; "he +lives here, and he is a great friend of mine. Hollis, will you help +about the baggage? I'm coming back immediately." + +They drove away, but not before Cicely had asked Paul to let her sit +beside him; Eve was left alone on the back seat. + +"I wanted to sit beside you, Paul; but I'm afraid I can't talk," Cicely +said. She put the back of her hand under her chin, as if to support her +head; she looked about vaguely--at the street, the passing people. + +"That's right, don't say anything; I like it better. You must be +terribly tired," answered Paul, reassuringly. + +They stopped before a white cottage. Upon entering, Paul gave an +inquiring glance at Eve; then he left the room, and came back with two +letters. + +Cicely tore them open. + +Eve drew nearer. + +In another instant Cicely gave a cry which rang through the house. "He +is hurt! Some one has shot him--has shot him!" Clutching the pages, she +swayed forward, but Paul caught her. He laid her upon a couch; with his +large, strong hands he placed a cushion under her head. + +Eve watched him. She did not help him. Then she came to the sofa. "Is he +dead, Cicely?" she asked, abruptly. + +Cicely looked at her. "You want him to be!" Springing up suddenly, like +a little tigress, still clutching her letters, she struck Eve with her +left hand. Her gloved palm was soft, but, as she had exerted all her +strength in the blow, the mark across Eve's cheek was red. + +"Never mind," said Eve, hastily, as Paul started forward; "I am glad she +did it." Her eyes were bright; the red had come into her other cheek; in +spite of the mark of the blow, her face looked brilliant. + +Cicely had fallen back; and this time she had lost consciousness. + +"You can leave her to me now," Eve went on. "Of course what she said +last means that he is not dead!" she added, with a long breath. + +"Dead?" said Paul Tennant. "Poor Ferdie dead? Never!" + +Eve had knelt down; she was chafing Cicely's temples. "Then you care for +him very much?" she asked, looking at him for a moment over her +shoulder. + +"I care for him more than for anything else in the world," said the +brother, shortly. + + + + +XIII. + + +It was the afternoon of the same day. + +"I shall go, grandpa," said Cicely; "I shall go to-night. There's a +boat, somebody said." + +"But, my dear child, listen to reason; Sabrina does not say that he is +in danger." + +"And she does not say that he is out of it." + +The judge took up the letter again, and, putting on his glasses, he read +aloud, with a frown of attention: "'For the first two days Dr. Daniels +came over twice a day'"-- + +"You see?--twice a day," said Cicely. + +--"'But as he is beginning to feel his age, the crossing so often in the +row-boat tired him; so now he sends us his partner, Dr. Knox, a new man +here, and a very intelligent person, I should judge. Dr. Knox comes over +every afternoon and spends the night'"-- + +"You see?--spends the night," said Cicely. + +--"'Going back early the following morning. He has brought us a nurse, +an excellent and skilful young man, and now we can have the satisfaction +of feeling that our poor Ferdie has every possible attention. As I +write, the fever is going down, and the nurse tells me that by +to-morrow, or day after to-morrow, he will probably be able to speak to +us, to talk.'" + +"I don't know exactly how many days it will take me to get there," said +Cicely, beginning to count upon her fingers. "Four days--or is it +three?--to Cleveland, where I take the train; then how many hours from +there to Washington? You will have to make it out for me, grandpa; or +rather Paul will; Paul knows everything." + +"My poor little girl, you haven't had any rest; even now you have only +just come out of a fainting-fit. Sabrina will write every day; wait at +least until her next letter comes to-morrow morning." + +"You are all so strange! Wouldn't you wish me to see him if he were +dying?" Cicely demanded, her voice growing hard. + +"Of course, of course," replied the old man, hastily. "But there is no +mention of dying, Sabrina says nothing that looks like it; Daniels, our +old friend--why, Daniels would cross twenty times a day if he thought +there was danger." + +"I can't argue, grandpa. But I shall go; I shall go to-night," Cicely +responded. + +She was seated on a sofa in Paul Tennant's parlor, a large room, +furnished with what the furniture dealer of Port aux Pins called a +"drawing-room set." The sofa of this set was of the pattern named +tête-à-tête, very hard and slippery, upholstered in hideous green +damask. Cicely was sitting on the edge of this unreposeful couch, her +feet close together on a footstool, her arms tight to her sides and +folded from the elbows in a horizontal position across the front of her +waist. She looked very rigid and very small. + +"But supposing, when you get there, that you find him up,--well?" +suggested the judge. + +"Shouldn't I be glad?" answered Cicely, defiantly. "What questions you +ask!" + +"But _we_ couldn't be glad. Can't you think a little of us?--you are all +we have left now." + +"Aunt Sabrina doesn't feel as you do--if you mean Aunt Sabrina; she +would be delighted to have me come back. _She_ likes Ferdie; it is only +you who are so hard about him." + +"Sabrina doesn't know. But supposing it were only I, is my wish nothing +to you?" And the old man put out his hand in appeal. + +"No," answered Cicely, inflexibly. "I am sorry, grandpa; but for the +moment it isn't, nothing is anything to me now but Ferdie. And what is +it that Aunt Sabrina doesn't know, pray? There's nothing to know; Ferdie +had one of his attacks--he has had them before--and I came away with +Jack; that is all. Eve has exaggerated everything. I told her I would +come here, come to Paul, because Ferdie likes Paul; but I never intended +to stay forever, and now that Ferdie is ill, do you suppose that I will +wait one moment longer than I must? Of course not." + +The door opened and Eve came in. Cicely glanced at her; then she turned +her eyes away, looking indifferently at the whitewashed wall. + +"She is going to take the steamer back to-night," said the judge, +helplessly. + +"Oh no, Cicely; surely not to-night," Eve began. In spite of the +fatigues of the journey, Eve had been a changed creature since morning; +there was in her eyes an expression of deep happiness, which was almost +exaltation. + +"There is no use in explaining anything to Eve, and I shall not try," +replied Cicely. She unfolded her arms and rose, still standing, a rigid +little figure, close to the sofa. "I love my husband, and I shall go to +him; what Eve says is of no consequence, because she knows nothing about +such things; but I suppose _you_ cared for grandma once, didn't you, +grandpa, when she was young? and if she had been shot, wouldn't you have +gone to her?" + +"Cicely, you are cruel," said Eve. + +"When grandpa thinks so, it will be time enough for me to trouble +myself. But grandpa doesn't think so." + +"No, no," said the old man; "never." And for the moment he and his +grandchild made common cause against the intruder. + +Eve felt this, she stood looking at them in silence. Then she said, "And +Jack?" + +"I shall take him with me, of course. That reminds me that I must speak +to Porley about his frocks; Porley is so stupid." And Cicely turned +towards the door. + +Eve followed her. "Another long journey so soon will be bad for Jack." + +"There you go again! But I shall not leave him with you, no matter what +you say; useless, your constant asking." She opened the door. On the +threshold she met Paul Tennant coming in. + +He took her hand and led her back. "I was looking for you; I have found +a little bed for Jack; but I don't know that it will do." + +"You are very good, Paul, but Jack will not need it. I am going away +to-night; I have only just learned that there is a boat." + +"We don't want to hear any talk of boats," Paul answered. He drew her +towards the sofa and placed her upon it. "Sit down; you look so tired!" + +"I'm not tired; at least I do not feel it. And I have a great deal to +do, Paul; I must see about Jack's frocks." + +"Jack's frocks can wait. There's to be no journey to-night." + +"Yes, there is," said Cicely, with a mutinous little smile. Her glance +turned towards her grandfather and Eve; then it came back to Paul, who +was standing before her. "None of you shall keep me," she announced. + +"You will obey your grandfather, won't you?" Paul began, seriously. + +The judge got up, rubbing his hands round each other. + +"No," Cicely answered; "not about this. Grandpa knows it; we have +already talked it over." + +"You are wrong; you ought not to be willing to make him so unhappy." + +"Never mind about that, Tennant; I'll see to that," said the judge. He +spoke in a thin old voice which sounded far away. + +Paul looked at him, surprised. Then his glance turned towards Eve. "Miss +Bruce too; I am sure she does not approve of your going?" + +"Oh, if I should wait for _Eve's_ approval!" said Cicely. "Eve doesn't +approve of anything in the world except that she should have Jack, and +take him away with her, Heaven knows where. She hasn't any feelings as +other people have; she has never cared for anybody excepting herself, +and her brother, and I dare say that when she had him she tried to rule +him, as she tries now to rule me and every one. She is jealous about +him, and that makes her hate Ferdie: perhaps you don't know that she +hates Ferdie? She does; she was sorry this morning, absolutely sorry, +when she heard that, though he was dreadfully hurt, he wasn't dead." + +"Oh, Cicely!" said Eve. She turned away and walked towards one of the +windows, her face covered by her hands. + +Paul's eyes followed her. Then they came back to Cicely. "Very well, +then, since it appears to be left to me, I must tell you plainly that +you cannot go to-night; we shall not allow it." + +"We!" ejaculated Cicely. "Who are we?" + +"I, then, if you like--I alone." + +"What can you do? I am free; no one has any authority over me except +Ferdie." Paul did not reply. "You will scarcely attempt to keep me by +force, I suppose?" she went on. + +"If necessary, yes. But it will not be necessary." + +"Grandpa would never permit it. Grandpa?" She summoned him to her side +with an imperious gesture. + +The old man came towards her a step or two. Then he left the room +hurriedly. + +Cicely watched him go, with startled eyes. But she recovered herself, +and looked at Paul undaunted. + +"Why do you treat me so, Cicely?" he said. "I care about Ferdie as much +as you do; I have always cared about him,--hasn't he ever told you? +There never were two boys such chums; and although, since he has grown +up, he has had others, I have never had any one but him; I haven't +wanted any one. Is it likely, then, that I should try to set you +against him?--that I should turn against him myself?--I ask you that." + +"It is setting me against him not to let me go to him. How do we know +that he is not dying?" Her voice was quiet and hard. + +"We know because the letters do not speak of danger; on the contrary, +they tell us that the ball has been extracted, and that the fever is +going down. He will get well. And then some measures must be taken +before you can go back to him; otherwise it would not be safe." + +"And do I care about safe? I should like to die if _he_ did!" cried +Cicely, passionately. She looked like a hunted creature at bay. + +"And your child; what is your idea about him?" + +"That's it; take up Eve's cry--do! You know I will never give up baby, +and so you both say that." She sank down on the sofa, her head on her +arms, her face hidden. + +Her little figure lying there looked so desolate that Eve hurried +forward from the window. Then she stopped, she felt that Cicely hated +her. + +"I say what I think will influence you," Paul was answering. "Ferdie has +already thrown the boy about once; he may do it again. Of course at such +times he is not responsible; but these times are increasing, and he must +be brought up short; he must be brought to his senses." He went to the +sofa, sat down beside her, and lifted her in his arms. "My poor little +sister, do trust me. Ferdie does; he wrote to me himself about that +dreadful time, that first time when he hurt you; isn't that a proof? I +will show you the letter if you like." + +"I don't want to see it. Ferdie and I never speak of those things; +there has never been an allusion to them between us," replied Cicely, +proudly. + +"I can understand that. You are his wife, and I am only his big brother, +to whom he has always told everything." He placed her beside him on the +sofa, with his arm still round her. "Didn't you know that we still tell +each other everything,--have all in common? I have been the slow member +of the firm, as one may say, and so I've stayed along here; but I have +always known what Ferdie was about, and have been interested in his +schemes as much as he was." + +"Yes, he told me that you gave him the money for South America," said +Cicely, doubtfully. + +"That South American investment was his own idea, and he deserves all +the credit of it; he will make it a success yet. See here, Cicely: at +the first intimation that he is worse, I should go down there myself as +fast as boat and train could carry me; I've telegraphed to that Dr. Knox +to keep me informed exactly, and, if there should be any real danger, I +will take you to him instantly. But I feel certain that he will recover. +And then we must cure him in another way. The trouble with Ferdie is +that he is sure that he can stop at any moment, and, being so sure, he +has never really tried. The thing has been on him almost from a boy, he +inherits it from his father. But he has such a will, he is so +brilliant--" + +"Oh, yes! isn't he?" said Cicely, breathlessly. + +--"That he has never considered himself in danger, in spite of these +lapses. Now there is where we must get hold of him--we must open his +eyes; and that is going to be the hard point, the hard work, in which, +first of all, _you_ must help. But once he is convinced, once the thing +is done, then, Cicely, then"-- + +"Yes, then?" + +--"He will be about as perfect a fellow as the world holds, I think," +said Paul, with quiet enthusiasm. He stooped and kissed her cheek. "I +want you to believe that I love him," he added, simply. + +He got up, smiling down upon her,--"Now will you be a good girl?" he +said, as though she were a child. + +"I will wait until to-morrow," Cicely answered, after a moment's +hesitation. + +"Come, that's a concession," said Paul, applaudingly. "And now won't you +do something else that will please me very much?--won't you go straight +to bed?" + +"A small thing to please you with," Cicely answered, without a smile; "I +will go if you wish. I should like to have you know, Paul, that I came +to you of my own choice," she went on; "I came to you when I would not +go anywhere else; Eve will tell you so." + +"Yes," assented Eve from her place by the window. + +"Well, I'm glad you had some confidence," Paul responded; "I must try to +give you more. And now who will--who will see to you? Does that +wool-headed girl of yours know anything?" + +He looked so anxious as he said this that Cicely broke into a faint +laugh. "I haven't lost my mind; I can see to myself." + +"But I thought you Southerners-- However, Miss Bruce will help you." He +looked at Eve. + +"I am afraid Cicely is tired of me," Eve answered, coming forward. "All +the same, I know how to take care of her." + +"Yes, she took care of me all the way here," remarked Cicely, looking at +Eve coldly. "She needs to be taken care of herself," she went on, in a +dispassionate voice; "she has hardly closed her eyes since we started." + +"I feel perfectly well," Eve answered, the color rushing to her face in +a brilliant flush. + +"I don't think we need borrow any trouble about Miss Bruce, she looks +the image of health," observed Paul (but not as though he admired the +image). "I am afraid your bedrooms are not very large," he went on, +again perturbed. "There are two, side by side." + +"Cicely shall have one to herself; Jack and I will take the other," said +Eve. + +"Where is Jack?" demanded Cicely, suddenly. "What have you done with +him, Eve?" + +Paul opened the door. "Polly!" he cried, in a voice that could have been +heard from garret to cellar. Porley, amazed by the sound, came running +in, with Jack in her arms. Paul looked at her dubiously, shook his head, +and went out. + +Cicely took her child, and began to play all his games with him +feverishly, one after the other. + +Jack was delighted; he played with all his little heart. + + + + +XIV. + + +Four days had passed slowly by. "What do you think, judge, of this +theory about the shooting,--the one they believe at Romney?" said Paul, +on the fifth morning. + +"It's probable enough. Niggers are constitutionally timid, and they +always have pistols nowadays; these two boys, it seems, had come over +from the mainland to hide; they had escaped from a lock-up, got a boat +somewhere and crossed; that much is known. Your brother, perhaps, went +wandering about the island; if he came upon them suddenly, with that +knife in his hand, like as not they fired." + +"Ferdie was found lying very near the point where _your_ boat was kept." + +"And the niggers might have been hidden just there. But I don't think we +can tell exactly where our boat was; Cicely doesn't remember--I have +asked her." + +"Miss Bruce may have clearer ideas." + +"No; Eve seems to have a greater confusion about it than Cicely even; +she cannot speak of it clearly at all." + +"Yes, I have noticed that," said Paul. + +"I suppose it is because, at the last, she had it all to do; she is a +brave woman." + +Paul was silent. + +"Don't you think so?" said the judge. + +"I wasn't there. I don't know what she did." + +"You're all alike, you young men; she's too much for you," said the +judge, with a chuckle. + +"Why too much? She seems to me very glum and shy. When you say that we +are all alike, do you mean that Ferdie didn't admire her, either? Yet +Ferdie is liberal in his tastes," said the elder brother, smiling. + +But the judge did not want to talk about Ferdie. "So you find her shy? +She did not strike us so at Romney. Quiet enough--yes. But very +decidedly liking to have her own way." + +Paul dismissed the subject. "I suppose those two scamps, who shot him, +got safely away?" + +"Yes, they were sure to have run off on the instant; they had the boat +they came over in, and before daylight they were miles to the southward +probably; I dare say they made for one of the swamps. In the old days we +could have tracked them; but it's not so easy now. And even if we got +them we couldn't string them up." + +"You wouldn't hang them?" + +"By all the gods, I would!" said the planter, bringing his fist down +upon the table with a force that belonged to his youth. + +"Ferdie may have attacked them first, you know." + +"What difference does that make? Damnation, sir! are they to be allowed +to fire upon their masters?" + +"They did not fire very well, these two; according to Dr. Knox, the +wound is not serious; his despatch this morning says that Ferdie is +coming on admirably." + +"Yes, I suppose he is," said the old man, relapsing into gloom. + +"As soon as he is up and about, I am going down there," Paul went on; "I +must see him and have a serious talk. Some new measures must be taken. I +don't think it will be difficult when I have once made him see his +danger; he is so extraordinarily intelligent." + +"I wish he were dull, then,--dull as an owl!" said the judge, with a +long sigh. + +"Yes, regarded simply as husbands, I dare say the dull may be safer," +responded Paul. "But you must excuse me if I cannot look upon Ferdie +merely as the husband of your daughter; I expect great things of him +yet." + +"Granddaughter. If her father had lived--my boy Duke--it would have been +another story; Duke wouldn't have been a broken old man like me." And +the judge leaned his head upon his hand. + +"I beg your pardon, sir; don't mind my roughness. It's only that I'm +fond of Ferdie, and proud of him; he has but that one fault. But I +appreciate how you feel about Cicely; we must work together for them +both." + +Paul had risen, and was standing before him with outstretched hand. +"Thank you; you mean well," said the judge. He had let his hand be +taken, but he did not look up. He felt that he could never really like +this man--never. + +"I am to understand, then, that you approve of my plan?" Paul went on, +after a short silence. "Cicely to stay here for the present--the house, +I hope, is fairly comfortable--and then, when Ferdie is better, I to go +down there and see what I can do; I have every hope of doing a great +deal! Oh, yes, there's one more thing; _you_ needn't feel obliged to +stay here any longer than you want to, you know; I can see to Cicely. +Apparently, too, Miss Bruce has no intention of leaving her." + +"I shall stay, sir--I shall stay." + +"On my own account, I hope you will; I only meant that you needn't feel +that you must; I thought perhaps there was something that called you +home." + +"Calls me home? Do you suppose we do anything down there nowadays with +the whole coast ruined? As for the house, Sabrina is there, and women +like illness; they absolutely dote on medicines, and doctors, and +ghastly talking in whispers." + +"Very well; I only hope you won't find it dull, that's all. The mine +isn't bad; you might come out there occasionally. And the steamers stop +two or three times a day. There's a good deal going on in the town, too; +building's lively." + +"I am much obliged to you." + +"But you don't care for liveliness," pursued Paul, with a smile. "I am +afraid there isn't much else. I haven't many books, but Kit Hollis has; +he is the man for you. Queer; never can decide anything; always beating +round the bush; still, in his way, tremendously well read and clever." + +"He appears to be a kind of dry-nurse to you," said the judge, rising. + +Paul laughed, showing his white teeth. He was very good-natured, his +guest had already discovered that. + +The judge was glad that their conversation had come to an end. He could +no longer endure dwelling upon sorrow. Trouble was not over for them by +any means; their road looked long and dark before them. But for the +moment Cicely and her child were safe under this roof; let them enjoy +that and have a respite. As for himself, he could--well, he could enjoy +the view. + +The view consisted of the broad lake in front, and the deep forest which +stretched unbroken towards the east and the west. The water of the lake +was fresh, the great forest was primeval; this made the effect very +unlike that of the narrow salt-water sounds, and the chain of islands, +large and small, with their gardens and old fields. The South had +forgotten her beginnings; but here one could see what all the new world +had once been, here one could see traces of the first struggle for human +existence with the inert forces of nature. With other forces, too, for +Indians still lived here. They were few in number, harmless; but they +carried the mind back to the time of sudden alarms and the musket laid +ready to the hand; the days of the block-house and the guarded well, the +high stockade. The old planter as he walked about did not think of these +things. The rough forest was fit only for rough-living pioneers; the +Indians were but another species of nigger; the virgin air was thin and +raw,--he preferred something more thick, more civilized; the great +fresh-water sea was abominably tame, no one could possibly admire it; +Port aux Pins itself was simply hideous; it was a place composed +entirely of beginnings and mud, talk and ambition, the sort of place +which the Yankees produced wherever they went, and which they loved; +that in itself described it; how could a Southern gentleman like what +they loved? + +And Port aux Pins was ugly. Its outlying quarters were still in the +freshly plucked state, deplumed, scarred, with roadways half laid out, +with shanties and wandering pigs, discarded tin cans and other refuse, +and everywhere stumps, stumps. Within the town there were one or two +streets where stood smart wooden houses with Mansard-roofs. But these +were elbowed by others much less smart, and they were hustled by the +scaffolding of the new mansions which were rising on all sides, and, +with republican freedom, taking whatever room they found convenient +during the process. Even those abodes which were completed as to their +exteriors had a look of not being fully furnished, a blank, wide-eyed, +unwinking expression across their façades which told of bare floors and +echoing spaces within. Always they had temporary fences. Often paths of +movable planks led up to the entrance. Day after day a building of some +sort was voyaging through Port aux Pins streets by means of a rope and +windlass, a horse, and men with boards; when it rained, the house +stopped and remained where it was, waiting for the mud to dry; meanwhile +the roadway was blocked. But nobody minded that. All these things, the +all-pervading beginnings, the jokes and slang, the smell of paint, and +always the breathless constant hurry, were hateful to the old Georgian. +It might have been said, perhaps, that between houses and a society +uncomfortable from age, falling to pieces from want of repairs, and +houses and a society uncomfortable from youth, unfurnished, and +encumbered with scaffolding, there was not much to choose. But the judge +did not think so; to his mind there was a great deal to choose. + +As the days passed, Christopher Hollis became more and more his +companion; the judge grew into the habit of expecting to see his high +head, topped with a silk hat, put stealthily through the crevice of the +half-open door of Paul's dining-room (Hollis never opened a door widely; +whether coming in or going out, he always squeezed himself through), +with the query, "Hello! What's up?" There was never anything up; but the +judge, sitting there forlornly, with no companion but the local +newspaper (which he loathed), was glad to welcome his queer guest. +Generally they went out together; Port aux Pins people grew accustomed +to seeing them walking down to the end first of one pier, then of the +other, strolling among the stumps in the suburbs, or sitting on the pile +of planks which adorned one corner of the Public Square, the +long-legged, loose-jointed Kit an amusing contrast to the small, precise +figure by his side. + +"I say, he's pretty hard up for entertainment, that old gentleman of +yours," announced Hollis one day, peering in through the crevice of the +door of Paul Tennant's office in the town. + +"I depended on you to entertain him," answered Paul without lifting his +head, which was bent over a ledger. + +"Well, I've taken him all over the place, I've pretty nearly trotted his +legs off," Hollis responded, edging farther in, the door scraping the +buttons of his waistcoat as he did so. "And I've shot off all my Latin +at him too--all I can remember. I read up on purpose." + +"Is he such a scholar, then?" + +"No, he ain't. But it does him good to hear a little Horace in such an +early-in-the-morning, ten-minutes-ago place as this. See here, Paul; if +you keep him on here long he won't stand it--he'll mizzle out. He'll +simply die of Potterpins." + +"I'm not keeping him. He stays of his own accord." + +"I don't believe it. But, I say, ain't he a regular old despot though! +You ought to hear him hold forth sometimes." + +"_I_ don't want to hear him." + +"Well, I guess he don't talk that way to you, on the whole. Not much," +said Hollis, jocularly. + +And Paul Tennant did not look like a man who would be a comfortable +companion for persons of the aggressive temperament. He was tall and +broad-shouldered; not graceful like Ferdie, but powerful. His neck was +rather short; the lower part of his face was strong and firm. His +features were good; his eyes, keen, gray in hue. His hair was yellow and +thick, and he had a moustache and short beard of the same yellow hue. No +one would have called him handsome exactly. There was something of the +Scandinavian in his appearance; nothing of the German. His manner, +compared with Ferdie's quick, light brilliancy, was quiet, his speech +slow. + +"Have you been thinking about that proposition--that sale?" Hollis went +on. + +"Yes." + +"What are you going to do?" + +"It's done. I've declined." + +"What! not already? That's sudden, ain't it?" + +Paul did not answer; he was adding figures. + +"Have you been over the reasons?--weighed 'em?" + +"Oh, I leave the reasons to you," said Paul, turning a page. + +Hollis gave his almost silent laugh. But he gave it uneasily. +"Positively declined? Letter gone?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh; well!" He waited a moment; then, as Paul did not speak, he opened +the door and edged himself out without a sound. + +Ten minutes later his head reappeared with the same stealth. "Oh, I +thought I'd just tell you--perhaps you don't know--the mail doesn't go +out to-day until five o'clock: you can get that letter back if you +like." + +"I don't want it back." + +"Oh; well." He was gone again. + +Outside in the street he saw the judge wandering by, and stopped him. +"That there son-in-law of yours--" he began. + +"Son-in-law?" inquired the judge, stiffly. + +"Whatever pleases you; step-sister." + +"Mr. Tennant is the half-brother of the husband of my granddaughter." + +"'T any rate, that man in there, that Paul, he's so tremendously rash +there's no counting on him; if there's anything to do he goes and does +it right spang off without a why or a wherefore. He absolutely seems to +have no reasons!--not a rease!" + +"I cannot agree with you. To me Mr. Tennant seems to have a great many." + +"But you haven't heard about this. Come along out to the Park for a +walk, and I'll tell you." + +He moved on. But the judge did not accompany him. A hurrying mulatto, a +waiter from one of the steamers, had jostled him off the narrow plank +sidewalk; at the same moment a buggy which was passing, driven at a +reckless speed, spattered him with mud from shoulder to shoe. + +"Never mind, come on; it'll dry while you're walking," suggested Hollis +from the corner where he was waiting. + +The judge stepped back to the planks; he surveyed his befouled person; +then he brought out a resounding expletive--half a dozen of them. + +"Do it again--if it'll ease you off," called Kit, grinning. "When you're +blessing Potterpins, I'm with you every time." + +The judge rapped the planks with his cane. "Go on, sir! go on!" he said, +violently. + +Hollis went loafing on. And presently the judge caught up with him, and +trotted beside him in silence. + +"Well, that Paul now, as I was telling you, I don't know what to make of +him," said Hollis, returning to his topic. "I think I know him, and +then, suddenly he stumps me. Once he has made up his mind to +anything--and it does not take long--off he goes and _does_ it, I tell +you! He _does_ it." + +"I don't know what he _does_; his conversation has a good deal of the +sledge-hammer about it," remarked the judge. + +"So it has," responded Hollis, delighted with the comparison; he was so +delighted that he stopped and slapped his thigh. "So it has, by +George!--convincing and knock-you-down." The judge walked on. He had +intended no compliment. "To-day, now, that fellow has gone and sent off +a letter that he ought to have taken six months to think over," Hollis +continued. "Told you about his Clay County iron?" + +"No." + +"Well, he was down there on business--in Clay County. It was several +years ago. He had to go across the country, and the roads were +awful--full of slew-holes. At last, tired of being joggled to pieces, he +got out and walked along the fields, leaving the horse to bring the +buggy through the mud as well as he could. By-and-by he saw a stone that +didn't look quite like the others, and he gave it a kick. Still it +didn't look quite like, so he picked it up. The long and short of it was +that it turned out to be hematite iron, and off he went to the +county-seat and entered as much of the land as he could afford to buy. +He hasn't any capital, so he has never been able to work it himself; all +his savings he has invested in something or other in South America. But +the other day he had a tip-top offer from a company; they wanted to buy +the whole thing in a lump. And _that's_ the chance he has refused this +identical morning!" The judge did not reply. "More iron may be +discovered near by, you know," Hollis went on, warningly, his forefinger +out. His companion still remained silent. "He may never have half so +good an offer in his whole life again!" + +They had now reached the Park, a dreary enclosure where small evergreens +had been set out here and there, together with rock-work, and a fountain +which did not play. The magnificent forest trees which had once covered +the spot had all been felled; infant elms, swathed in rags and tied to +whitewashed stakes, were expected to give shade in fifteen or twenty +years. There were no benches; Hollis seated himself on the top of a +rail-fence which bordered the slight descent to the beach of the lake; +the heels of his boots, caught on a rail below, propped him, and sent +his knees forward at an acute angle. + +"There were all sorts of side issues and possibilities which that fellow +ought to have considered," he pursued, ruminatively, his mind still on +Paul's refusal. "There were other things that might have come of it. It +was an A number one chance for a fortune." The judge did not answer. +"For a fortune," repeated Hollis, dreamily, gazing down at him from his +perch. No reply. "A _for_-chun!" + +"Da-a-a-m your fortune!" said the judge, at the end of his patience, +bringing out the first word with a long emphasis, like a low growl from +a bull-dog. + +Hollis stared. Then he gave his silent laugh, and, stretching down one +long arm, he laid it on the old man's shoulder soothingly. "There, now; +we _are_ awful Yankees up here, all of us, I'm afraid; forever thinking +of bargains. Fact is, we ain't high-minded; you _can't_ be, if you are +forever eating salt pork." The judge had pulled himself from the other's +touch in an instant. But Hollis remained unconscious of any offence. + + _"'At the battle of the Nile I was there all the while;_ + _I was there all the while at the battle of the Nile.'"_ + +he chanted. + + _"'At the bat--'_ + +"Hello, isn't that Miss Bruce coming down the beach? Yes, sure-ly; I +know her by the way she carries her head." Detaching his boot-heels from +the rail, he sprang down, touching the ground with his long legs wide +apart; then, giving his waistcoat a pull over the flatness below it, he +looked inquiringly at the judge. + +But that gentleman ignored the inquiry. "It is time to return, I +reckon," he remarked, leading the way inflexibly towards the distant +gate and the road. + +Hollis followed him with disappointed tread. "She won't think us very +polite, skooting off in this fashion," he hazarded. + +The judge vouchsafed him no reply. It was one thing for this +backwoodsman to go about with him; it was another to aspire to an +acquaintance with the ladies of his family. Poor Hollis aspired to +nothing; he was the most modest of men; all the same it would never have +occurred to him that he was not on an equality with everybody. They +returned to Port aux Pins by the road. + +The beach was in sight all the way on the left; Eve's figure in +three-quarter length was visible whenever Hollis turned his head in that +direction, which was often. She gained on them. Then she passed them. + +"She's a tip-top walker, isn't she? I see her coming in almost every day +from 'way out somewhere--she doesn't mind how far. Our ladies here don't +walk much; they don't seem to find it interesting. But Miss Bruce, +now--she says the woods are beautiful. Can't say I have found 'em so +myself." + +"Have you had any new cases lately?" inquired the judge, coldly. + +"Did that Paul tell you I was a lawyer? Was once, but have given up +practising. I've got an Auction and Commission store now; never took you +there because business hasn't been flourishing; sometimes for days +together there's been nothing but the skeleton." The judge looked at +him. "I don't mean myself! Say, now, did you really think I meant +myself?" And he laughed without a sound. "No, this is a real one; it was +left with me over a year ago to be sold on commission--medical students, +or a college, you know. Man never came back--perhaps he's a skeleton +himself in the lake somewhere--so there it hangs still; first-class, and +in elegant condition. To-day there are six bonnets to keep it company; +so we're full." + +They were now entering the town. Presently, at a corner, they came +suddenly upon Eve; she was waiting for them. "I saw you walking in from +the Park, so I came across to join you," she said. + +Hollis showed his satisfaction by a broad smile; he did not raise his +hat, but, extracting one of his hands from the depths of his trousers +pocket, he offered it frankly. "You don't mind a longish walk, do you? +You look splendid." + +"We need not take you further, Mr. Hollis," said the judge. "Your time +must be valuable to you." + +"Not a bit; there's no demand to-day for the bonnets--unless the +skeleton wants to wear 'em." + +"Is it an exhibition?" asked Eve, non-comprehendingly. + +"It's my store--Auction and Commission. Not crowded. It's round the next +corner; want to go in?" And he produced a key and dangled it at Eve +invitingly. + +"By all means," said Eve. + +It was evident that she liked to be with him. The judge had perceived +this before now. + +Hollis unlocked a door, or rather two doors, for the place had been +originally a wagon shop. A portion of the space within was floored, and +here, between the two windows, the long white skeleton was suspended, +moving its legs a little in the sudden draught. + +"Here are the bonnets," said Hollis. "They may have to go out to the +mines. You see, it's part of a bankrupt stock. Not but what they ain't +first-class;--remarkably so." He went to a table where stood six +bandboxes in a row; opening one of them, he took out a bonnet, and, +freeing it from its wrappings, held it anxiously towards Eve, perched on +one of his fingers. + +"Are you trying to make Miss Bruce buy that old rubbish?" said a voice +at the door. It was Paul Tennant's voice. + +"Old?" said Hollis, seriously. "Why, Paul, I dare say this here bonnet +was made in Detroit not later than one year ago." + +"If I cannot buy it myself," said Eve, "I might take it out to the mines +for you, Mr. Hollis, and sell it to the women there; I might take out +all six." She spoke gayly. + +"You'd do it a heap better than I could," Hollis declared, admiringly. + +"Let me see, I can try." She opened a bandbox and took out a second +bonnet. This she began to praise in very tropical language; she turned +it round, now rapidly, now slowly; she magnified its ribbons, its +general air. Finally, taking off her round-hat, she perched it on her +own golden braids, and, holding the strings together under her chin, she +said, dramatically: "What an effect!" She did not smile, but her eyes +shone. She looked brilliant. + +The judge stared, amazed. Hollis, contorting himself like an angle-worm +in his delight, applauded. Paul looked on tranquilly. + +"Whatever the rest of you may do, I must be going," said the judge, +determinedly. He went towards the door, each short step sounding on the +planks. + +"So must I," said Eve. "Wait until I put back the bonnets." With deft +hands she returned them to their boxes, Paul and Hollis looking on. Then +they all went out together, Hollis relocking the door. + +"I was on my way home," said Paul, "and I suppose you were too? Hollis, +won't you come along?" + +He went on in advance with Eve, Hollis following with the unwilling +judge, whose steps were still like little taps with a hammer. + +The cottage was on the outskirts of the town. To walk thither took +twenty minutes. + + + + +XV. + + +PAUL had succeeded in keeping Cicely tranquil by a system of telegraphic +despatches and letters, one or the other arriving daily; each morning +Ferdie's wife received a few lines from Romney, written either by Miss +Sabrina or the nurse; after she had read her note, she let herself be +borne along indifferently on the current of another Port aux Pins day. + +The Port aux Pins days were, in themselves, harder for the judge than +for Cicely. For Cicely remained passive; but the old judge could not be +passive to things he hated so intensely. At last, by good-fortune, +Hollis found something that placated him a little; this was fishing, +fishing for trout; not the great rich creature of the lakes, which +passes under that name, but that exquisite morsel, the brook-trout. The +judge had gone off contentedly, even happily, in search of this delicate +prey; he and Hollis had explored the trout-streams of the two +neighboring rivers. A third river, at a greater distance, was reported +richer than any other; one morning they reached it, not only the two +fishermen, but Cicely also, and Eve and Paul. They had crossed by +steamer to a village on the north shore, an old fur-trading post; here +they had engaged canoes and two Indians, and had spent a long day afloat +on the clear wild stream. Its shores were rocky, deeply covered to the +water's edge with a dark forest of spruce-trees; the branchlet +trout-brooks, therefore, had been hard to find under the low-sweeping +foliage. But in this search, Hollis was an expert; with his silk hat +tipped more than ever towards the back of his head, he kept watch, and +he and the judge were put ashore several times in the course of the day, +returning smiling and amiable whether they brought trout or not, with +the serene contentment of fishermen. The others remained in the canoes, +those light birch-bark craft of the American red-men, which, for grace +and beauty, have never been surpassed. Two red-men were paddling one of +them at present; they were civilized red-men, they called themselves +Bill and Jim. But, under their straw hats, hung down their long straight +Indian hair, and the eagle profiles seemed out of place above the +ready-made coats and trousers. On their slender feet they wore beaded +moccasins. Paul Tennant and Hollis also wore moccasins, and the judge +had put on his thinnest shoes; for the birch-bark canoe has a delicate +floor. + +The boat paddled by the Indians carried Cicely, Porley and Jack, and the +judge; the second held only three persons--Eve, Hollis, and Paul +Tennant. Paul was propelling it alone, his paddle touching the water now +on one side, now on the other, lifted across as occasion required as +lightly as though it had been a feather. Cicely was listless, Paul +good-natured, but indifferent also--so it seemed to Eve; and Eve +herself, though she remained quiet (as the judge had described her), Eve +was at heart excited. These thick dark woods without a path, without a +sound, the wild river, the high Northern air which was like an +intoxicant--all these seemed to her wonderful. She breathed rapidly; she +glanced at the others in astonishment. "Why don't they admire it? Why +doesn't he admire it?" she thought, looking at Paul. + +Once the idea came suddenly that Paul was laughing at her, and the blood +sprang to her face; she kept her gaze down until the stuff of her dress +expanded into two large circles in which everything swam, so that she +was obliged to close her eyes dizzily. + +And then, when at last she did look up, her anger and her dizziness had +alike been unnecessary, for Paul was gazing at the wooded shore behind +her; it was evident that he had not thought of her, and was not thinking +of her now. + +This was late in the day, on their way back. A few minutes afterwards, +as they entered the lake, she saw a distant flash, and asked what it +was. + +"Jupiter Light," said Paul. "It's a flash-light, and a good one." + +"There's a Jupiter Light on Abercrombie Island, too," Eve remarked. + +"It's a common enough name," Paul answered; "the best-known one is off +the coast of Florida." + +The Indians passed them, paddling with rushing, rapid strokes. + +"They're right; we shall be late for the steamer if we don't look out," +said Paul. "You can help now if you like, Kit." + +He and Hollis took off their coats, and the canoe flew down the lake +under their feathery paddles; the water was as calm as a floor. Eve was +sitting at the bow, facing Paul. No one spoke, though Hollis now and +then crooned, or rather chewed, a fragment of his favorite song: + + _"'At the battle of the Nile I was there all the while--'"_ + +The little voyage lasted half an hour. + +They reached the village in time for the steamer, and soon afterwards +not only Jack and Porley, but Cicely, the judge, and Hollis, tired after +their long day afloat, had gone to bed. When Cicely sought her berth Eve +also sought hers, the tiny cells being side by side. Since their arrival +at Port aux Pins, Cicely had become more lenient to Eve; she was not so +cold, sometimes she even spoke affectionately. But she was very +changeable. + +To-night, after a while, Eve tapped at Cicely's door. "Are you really +going to bed so early?" + +"I am in bed already." + +"Do you want anything? Isn't there something I can bring you?" + +"No." + +Eve went slowly back to her own cell. But the dimness, the warm air, +oppressed her; she sat down on a stool behind her closed door, the +excitement of the day still remaining with her. "Is it possible that I +am becoming nervous?--I, who have always despised nervousness?" She kept +saying to herself, "I will go to bed in a few minutes." But the idea of +lying there on that narrow shelf, staring at the light from the grating, +repelled her. "At any rate I will _not_ go on deck." + +Ten minutes later she opened her door and went out. + +The swinging lamp in the saloon was turned down, the place was empty; +she crossed the short half-circle which led to the stern-deck, and +stepped outside. There was no moon, but a magnificent aurora borealis +was quivering across the sky, now an even band, now sending out long +flakes of light which waved to and fro. Before she looked at the +splendid heavens, however, she had scanned the deck. There was no one +there. She sat down on one of the benches. + +Presently she heard a step, some one was approaching. There was a gleam +of a cigar; a man's figure; Paul. + +"Is that you? I thought there would be no one here," she said. + +"We are the only passengers," Paul answered. "But, as there are six of +us, you cannot quite control us all." + +"I control no one." ("Not even myself!" she thought.) + +"You will have your wish, though you ought not to; despots shouldn't be +humored. You will have the place to yourself in a few moments, because I +shall turn in soon--the time to finish this cigar--if you don't mind the +smoke?" + +"No, I don't mind," she answered, a chill of disappointment creeping +slowly over her. + +"Hasn't it been jolly?" Paul said, after a moment: he had seated himself +on a stool near her bench. "I do love to be out like this, away from all +bother." + +"Do you? I thought you didn't." + +The words were no sooner out than she feared he would say, "Why?" And +then her answer (for of course she must say something; she could not let +him believe that she had had no idea)--her answer would show that she +had been thinking about him. + +But apparently Paul was not curious, he did not ask. "It's very good for +Cicely too; I wish I could take her oftener," he went on. "Her promise +to stay on here weighs upon her heavily. I don't know whether she would +have kept her word with me or not; but you know, of course, that Ferdie +himself has written, telling her that she must stay?" + +"No." + +"She didn't tell you?" + +"She tells me nothing!" replied Eve. "If she would only allow it, I +would go down there to-morrow. I could be the nurse; I could be the +housekeeper; anything." + +"You're not needed down there, they have plenty of people; we want you +here, to see to her." + +"One or the other of them;--I hope they will always permit it. I can be +of use, perhaps, about Jack." + +"You are too humble, Miss Bruce; sometimes you seem to be almost on your +knees to Cicely, as though you had done her some great wrong. The truth +is the other way; she ought to be on her knees to you. You brought her +off when she hadn't the force to come herself, poor little woman! And +you did it boldly and quickly, just as a man would have done it. Now +that I know you, I can imagine the whole thing." + +"Never speak of that time; never," murmured Eve. + +"Well, I won't, then, if you don't like it. But you will let me say how +glad I am that you intend to remain with her, at least for a while. You +will see from this that I don't believe a word of her story about your +dislike for my brother." + +"There is nothing I would not do for him!" + +"Yes, you like to do things; to be active. They tell me that you are +fond of having your own way; but that is the very sort of person they +need--a woman like you, strong and cool. After a while you would really +like Ferdie, you couldn't help it. And he would like you." + +"It is impossible that he should like me." She rose quickly. + +"You're going in? Well, fifteen hours in the open air _are_ an opiate. +Should you care to go forward first for a moment? I can show you a place +where you can look down below; there are two hundred emigrants on board; +Norwegians." + +She hesitated, drawing her shawl about her. + +"Take my arm; I can guide you better so. It's dark, and I know the ins +and outs." + +She put her hand upon his arm. + +He drew it further through. "I don't want you to be falling down!" + +They went forward along the narrow side. Conversation was not easy, they +had to make their way round various obstacles by sense of feeling; still +Eve talked; she talked hastily, irrelevantly. When she came to the end +of her breath she found herself speaking this sentence: "I like your +friend Mr. Hollis so much!" + +"Yes, Kit is a wonderful fellow; he has extraordinary talent." He spoke +in perfect good faith. + +"Oh, extraordinary?" said Eve, abandoning Hollis with feminine +versatility, as an obscure feeling, which she did not herself recognize, +rose within her. + +"If you don't think so, it's because you don't know him. He is an +excellent classical scholar, to begin with; he has read everything under +the sun; he is an inventor, a geologist, and one of the best lawyers in +the state, in spite of his notion about not practising." + +"You don't add that he is an excellent auctioneer?" + +"No; that he is not, I am sorry to say; he is a very bad one." + +"Yet it is the occupation which he has himself selected. Does that show +such remarkable talent? Now you, with your mining--" She stopped. + +"I didn't select mining," answered Paul, roughly, "and I'm not +particularly good at it; I took what I could get, that's all." + +They had now reached the forward deck. Two men belonging to the crew +were sitting on a pile of rope; above, patrolling the small upper +platform, was the officer in charge; they could not see him, but they +could hear his step. To get to the bow, they walked as it were up hill; +they reached the sharp point, and looked down over the high, smooth +sides which were cutting the deep water so quietly. Eve's glance turned +to the splendid aurora quivering and shining above. + +"This _T. P. Mayhew_ is an excellent boat," remarked Paul, who was still +looking over the sides. "But, as to that, all the N. T. boats are good." + +"N. T.?" + +"Northern Transportation." He gave a slight yawn. + +"Tell me about your iron," said Eve, quickly. ("Oh, he will go in! he is +going in!" was her thought.) + +"It isn't mine--I wish it was; I'm only manager." + +"I don't mean the mine here; I mean your Clay County iron." + +"What do you know about that?" said Paul, surprised. + +"Mr. Hollis told me; he said you had declined an excellent offer, and he +was greatly concerned about it; he told me the reasons why he did not +agree with you." + +"It must have been interesting! But that all happened some time ago; +didn't you know that he had come round to my view of it, after all?" + +"No." + +"Yes, round he came; it took him eight days. He has got such a +look-on-all-sides head that, when he starts out to investigate, he +tramps all over the sky; if he intends to go north, he goes east, west, +and south first, so as to make sure that these are not the right +directions. However, on the eighth day in he came, squeezing himself +through a crack, as usual, and explained to me at length the reasons why +it was better, on the whole, to decline that offer. He had thought the +matter out to its remotest contingencies--some of them went over into +the next century! It was remarkably clear and well argued; and of course +very satisfactory to me." + +"But in the meantime you had already declined, hadn't you?" + +"Yes. But it was a splendid piece of following up. I declare, I always +feel my inferiority when I am with people who can really talk--talk like +that!" + +"Oh!" said Eve, in accents of remonstrance. Her tone was so eloquent +that Paul laughed. He laughed to himself, but she heard it, or rather +she felt it; she drew her hand quickly from his arm. + +"Don't be vexed. I was only laughing to see how--" + +"How what?" + +"How invariably you women flatter." + +"_I_ don't." She spoke hurriedly, confusedly. + +"You had better learn, then," Paul went on, still laughing; "I'm afraid +that when we're well stuffed with it we're more good-natured. Shall I +take you back to the stern? I'm getting frightfully sleepy; aren't you?" + +On the way back she did not speak. + +When they reached the stern-deck, "Good-night," he said, promptly +opening the door into the lighted saloon. + +She looked up at him; in her face there was an inattention to the +present, an inattention to what he was saying. Her eyes scanned his +features with a sort of slow wonder. But it was a wonder at herself. + +"You had better see that the windows are closed," said Paul. "There's +going to be a change of wind." + + + + +XVI. + + +Eve's cheeks showed a deep rose bloom; she was no longer the snow-white +woman whom near-sighted Miss Sabrina had furtively scanned upon her +arrival at Romney six months before. She was still markedly erect, but +her step had become less confident, her despotic manner had disappeared. +Often now she was irresolute, and she had grown awkward--a thing new +with her; she did not know how to arrange her smallest action, hampered +by this new quality. + +But since the terrible hour when Ferdie had appeared at the end of the +corridor with his candle held aloft and his fixed eyes, life with her +had rushed along so rapidly that she had seemed to be powerless in its +current. The first night in Paul's cottage, in her little room next to +Cicely's, she had spent hours on her knees by the bedside pouring forth +in a flood of gratitude to Some One, Somewhere--she knew no formulas of +prayer--that she had been delivered from the horror that had held her +speechless through all the long journey. Ferdie was living! She repeated +it over and over--Ferdie was living! + +At the time there had been no plan; she had stepped back into her room +to get the pistol, not with any purpose of attack, but in order not to +be without some means of defence. The pistol was one of Jack's, which +she had found and taken possession of soon after her arrival, +principally because it had been his; she had seen him with it often; +with it he himself had taught her to shoot. Then at the last, when +Jack's poor little boy had climbed up by the boat's seat, and the madman +had made that spring towards him, then she had--done what she did. She +had done it mechanically; it had seemed the only thing to do. + +But, once away, the horror had come, as it always does and must, when by +violence a human life has been taken. She had dropped the pistol into +the Sound, but she could not drop the ghastly picture of the dark figure +on the sand, with its arms making two or three spasmodic motions, then +becoming suddenly still. Was he dead? If he was, she, Eve Bruce, was a +murderer, a creature to be imprisoned for life,--hanged. How people +would shrink from her if they knew! And how monstrous it was that she +should touch Cicely! Yet she must. Cain, where is thy brother? And the +Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. Would +it come to this, that she should be forced at last to take her own life, +in order to be free from the horror of murder? These were the constant +thoughts of that journey northward, without one moment's respite day or +night. + +But deliverance had come: he was alive! God was good after all, God was +kind; he had lifted from her this pall of death. He was alive! He was +alive! + +"Oh, I did not do it! I am innocent! That figure has gone from the sand; +it got up and walked away!" She laughed in the relief, the reaction, and +buried her face in the pillow to stifle it. "Cicely will not know what I +am laughing at; she will wonder. I need never tell her anything now, +because the only men who were suspected have got safely away. She is +safe, little Jack is safe, and Ferdie is not dead; he is alive--alive!" +So swept on through the night the tide of her immense joy. For the next +day and the next, for many days after, this joy surged within her, its +outward expression being the flush, and the brilliant light in her eyes. + +Eve Bruce had a strongly truthful nature, she was frank not only with +others, but with herself; she possessed the unusual mental quality +(unusual in a woman) of recognizing facts, whether they were agreeable +or not; of living without illusions. This had helped to give her, +perhaps, her brusque manner, with its absence of gentleness, its scanty +sweetness. With her innate truthfulness, it was not long before this +woman perceived that there was another cause contributing to the +excitement that was quickening her breath and making life seem new. The +discovery had come suddenly. + +It had been arranged that on a certain day they should walk out to the +mine, Paul, the judge, Hollis, and herself. When the time came, Hollis +appeared alone, Paul was too busy to leave the office. They walked out +to the mine. But Eve felt her feet dragging, she was unaccountably +depressed. Upon her return, as she came in sight of the cottage, she +remembered how happy she had been there the day before, and for many +days. What had changed? Had she not the same unspeakable great cause for +joy? For what reason did the day seem dull and the sky dark? And then +the truth showed itself: it was because Paul Tennant was not there; +nothing else. + +Another woman would have veiled it, would not have acknowledged the fact +even to herself; for women have miraculous power of really believing +only what they wish to believe; for many women facts, taken alone, do +not exist. But Eve had no such endowments. She had reached her room; she +pushed to the door and stood there motionless; after two or three +minutes she sank into the nearest chair; here she sat without stirring +for some time. Then she rose, went down the stairs, and out again. It +was six o'clock, but there were still two hours of daylight; she hurried +towards the nearest border of forest, and, just within its fringe, she +began walking rapidly to and fro, her hands, clasped together, hanging +before her, her eyes on the ground. She did not come back until +nightfall. + +As she entered she met Paul. + +"I was coming to hunt for you. Where have you been?" He spoke with +surprise. + +Eve looked at him once. Then she turned away. What a change in herself! +Now she understood Cicely. Now she understood--yes, she understood +everything--the things she had always despised--pettiness, jealousy, +impossible hopes, disgrace, shame. + +"I was afraid Cicely would be alarmed," Paul went on. + +And Eve was not offended that it was Cicely of whom he was thinking. It +had not yet occurred to her that he could think of her. + +She went in search of Cicely, who had nothing to say to her; then, +excusing herself, she retreated to her room. Here she took off her dress +and began to unbraid her hair. Then the thought came to her that Paul +would go to the parlor about this time, that he would play a game of +chess, perhaps, with the judge; hastily repairing the disorder she had +made, she rearranged the braids, felt in the rough closet for her +evening shoes, put them on, and went down-stairs again with rapid step. + +Cicely made no remark as she came in; Paul and the judge were playing +their game, with Hollis looking on. Eve took a book and sat reading, or +apparently reading, at some distance. "Oh, how abject this is! How +childish, how sickening!" Anger against herself rose hotly; under its +sting she felt her strength returning. She sat there as long as the +others did. "I will not make a second scene by going out" (but no one +had noticed her first). She answered Paul's good-night coldly. But when +she was back in her room again, when there was no more escape from its +four walls until morning, then she found herself without defences, +without pretexts, face to face with the fact that she loved this man, +this Paul Tennant, with all her heart. It was a surprise as great as if +she had suddenly become blind, or deaf, or mad--"stricken of God," as +people call it. "I am stricken. But I am not sure it is of God!" That +she, no longer a girl, after all these years untouched by such +feelings--that she, with her clear vision and strong will (she had +always been so proud of her will), should be led captive in this way by +a stranger who cared nothing for her, who did not even wish to +capture--it was a sort of insanity. She paced her room to and fro as she +had paced the fringe of woods. She stretched out her hands and looked at +them as though they had been the hands of some one else; she struck one +of them upon her bare arm; she was so humiliated that she must hurt +something; that something should be herself. "If he should ever care for +me, I would refuse him," she repeated, in bitter triumph. Immediately +the thought followed, "He will never care!" + +"I do not love him really," she kept repeating. "I am not well; it will +pass." But while she was saying this, there came a glow that +contradicted her, a glow before whose new sway she was helpless. "Oh, I +do! I loved him the first day I saw him. What is that old phrase?--I +love the ground he walks on." She buried her face in her hands. + +"How strange! I am happier than I have ever been in my life before; I +didn't know that there was such happiness!" A door seemed to open, +showing a way out of her trouble, a way which led to a vision of subtle +sweetness--her life through the future with this passion hidden like a +treasure in her heart, no one to know it, no one to suspect its +existence. "As I am to be nothing to him, as I wish to be nothing to +him, I shall not care whom _he_ loves; that is nothing to me." Upon this +basis she would arrange her life. + +But it is not so easy to arrange life. Almost immediately she began to +suffer, a species of suffering, too, to which she was unused: trifles +annoyed her like innumerable stings--she was not able to preserve her +calm; as regarded anything important, she could have been herself, or so +she imagined; but little things irritated her, and the days were full of +little things. She rebelled against this nervousness, but she could not +subdue it; and gradually the beautiful vision of her life, as she had +imagined it, faded away miserably in a cloud of petty exasperations and +despair. After wretched hours, unable to endure her humiliation longer, +she resolved to conquer herself at any cost, to set herself free; she +could not go away, because she would not leave Cicely; there was still +her brother's child; but here, on the spot, she would overcome this +feeling that had taken possession of her and changed her so that she did +not know herself. "I _will_!" she said. It was a vow; her will was the +strongest force of her being. + +This very will blinded her, she was too sure of it. She was in earnest +about wishing and intending to win in her great battle. But she forgot +the details. + +These are some of the details: + +The one time of day when Paul was neither at the mine nor in his office +was at sunset; twice she went through a chain of reasoning to prove to +herself that she had a necessary errand at that hour at one of the +stores; both times she met him. She had heard Paul say that he liked to +see women sew; she was no needlewoman; but presently she began to +embroider an apron for Jack (with very poor success). Paul was no +reader; he looked through the newspapers once a day, and when it rained +very hard in the evening, and there was nothing else to do, occasionally +he took up his one book; for he had but one, at least so Hollis +declared; at any rate he read but one; this one was Gibbon. The only +edition of the great history in the little book-store of Port aux Pins +was a miserably printed copy in paper covers. But a lady bought it in +spite of its blurred type. + +Finally this same lady went to church. It was on a Sunday afternoon, the +second service; she came in late, and took a seat in the last pew. When +had Eve Bruce been to church before? Paul went once in a while. And it +was when she saw his head towering above the heads of the shorter people +about him, as the congregation rose to repeat the creed--it was then +suddenly that the veil was lifted and she saw the truth: this was what +she had come for. + +She did not try to deny it, she comprehended her failure. After this she +ceased to struggle, she only tried to be quiet. She lived from day to +day, from hour to hour; it was a compromise. "But I shall not be here +long; something will separate us; soon, perhaps in a few weeks, it will +have come to an end, and then I may never see him again." So she +reasoned, passively. + +About this time Cicely fell ill. The Port aux Pins doctor had at length +given a name to her listlessness and her constantly increasing physical +weakness; he called it nervous prostration (one of the modern titles +for grief, or an aching heart). + +"What do you advise?" Paul had asked. + +"Take her away." + +Two days later they were living under tents at Jupiter Light. + +"We cannot get off this evening; it is perfectly impossible," the judge +had declared, bewildered by Paul's sudden decision, not knowing as yet +whether he agreed with it or not, and furthermore harried by the arrival +of tents, provisions, Indians, cooks, and kettles, the kettles invading +even the dining-room, his especial retreat. + +"Oh, we shall go; never you fear," said Hollis, who was hard at work +boxing up an iron bedstead. "At the last moment Paul will drive us all +on board like a flock of sheep." + +And, at nine o'clock that night, they did embark, the judge, who had +given up comprehending anything, walking desperately behind the others; +Hollis, weighed down with rods and guns, and his own clothing escaping +from newspapers; a man cook; a band of Indians; Porley and Jack; Eve; +and, last of all, Cicely, tenderly carried in Paul's arms. In a week the +complete change, the living under canvas in the aromatic air of the +pines, produced a visible effect; Cicely began to recover her lost +vitality; the alarming weakness disappeared. Every day there came her +letter or despatch, one of the Indians going fifteen miles for it, in a +canoe; the message was always favorable, Ferdie was constantly +improving. All was arranged, Paul was to go southward in July. He and +Cicely had frequent talks (talks which Paul tried to make as cheerful as +possible); perhaps, next winter, they should all be living together at +Port aux Pins; that is, in case it should be thought best to give up +Valparaiso, after all. Cicely read and re-read the letters; she always +kept the last one under her dress on her heart; for the rest she floated +in the canoe, and she played with Jack, who bloomed with health to that +extent that he was called the Porpoise. The judge, happy in the +improvement of his darling little girl, fished; snarled with Hollis; +then fished again. Hollis, always attired in his black coat, showed +positive genius in the matter of broiling. And Paul came and went as he +was able. As he could not be absent long from the mine, he made the +journey to Port aux Pins every three days, leaving Hollis in charge at +the camp during his absence. One day Hollis also was obliged to go to +Port aux Pins. And while he was there he attended an evening party. This +entertainment he described for Cicely's amusement upon his return. For +she was the central person to them all; they gathered round her, they +obeyed eagerly her slightest wish; when she laughed, they laughed also, +they were so glad to see life once more animating her white little face; +it was for this that Hollis prolonged his story, and quoted Shakespeare; +he would have stood on his head if it would have made her smile. + +A part of Hollis's description: "So then her sister Idora started on the +piano an accompaniment that went like this: _Bang!_ la-la-la. _Bang!_ +la-la-la, and Miss Parthenia, she began singing: + + _'O why-ee should the white man follow my path_ + _Like the hound on the tiger's track?'_ + +And then, with her hand over her mouth, she gave us a regular Indian +war-whoop." + +"How I wish I had been there!" said Cicely, with sudden laughter. + +"She'll whoop for you at any time; proud to," continued Hollis. "Well, +after the song was over, Mother Drone she sat back in her chair, and she +loosened her cap-strings on the sly. Says she: 'I hope the girls won't +see me doing this, Mr. Hollis; they think tarlatan strings tied under +the chin for a widow are so sweet. I told them I'd been a widow fifteen +years without 'em; but they say, now they've grown up, I ought to have +strings for their sakes, and be more prominent. Is Idora out on the +steps with Wolf Roth? Would you mind peeking?' So I peeked. But Wolf +Roth was there alone. 'He don't look dangerous,' I remarked, when I'd +loped back. Says she: 'He'd oughter, then. And he would, too, if he knew +it was me he sees when he comes serenading. I tap the girls on the +shoulder: 'Girls? Wolf Roth and his guitar!' But you might as well tap +the seven sleepers! So I have to cough, and I have to glimp, and Wolf +Roth--he little thinks it's ma'am!" + +"Oh, what is glimp?" said Cicely, still laughing. + +"It's showing a light through the blinds, very faint and shy," answered +Hollis. + + _"'Thou know'st the mask of night is on me face,_ + _Else would a maid-en blush bepaint me cheek,'"_ + +he quoted, gravely. "That's about the size of it, I guess." + +Having drawn the last smile from Cicely, he went off to his tent, and +presently he and the judge started for the nearest trout-brook together. + +Paul came up from the beach. "There's an Indian village two miles above +here, Cicely; do you care to have a look at it? I could take you and +Miss Bruce in the little canoe." + +But Cicely was tired: often now, after a sudden fit of merriment (which +seemed to be a return, though infinitely fainter, of her old wild +moods), she would look exhausted. "I think I will swing in the hammock," +she said. + +"Will you go, then, Miss Bruce?" Paul asked, carelessly. + +"Thanks; I have something to do." + +Half an hour later, Paul having gone off by himself, she was sitting on +a fallen tree on the shore, at some distance from the tents, when his +canoe glided suddenly into view, coming round a near point; he beached +it and sprang ashore. + +"You surely have not had time to go to that village?" she said, rising. + +"Did I say I was going alone? Apparently what you had to do was not so +very important," he added, smiling. + +"Yes, I was occupied," she answered. + +"We can go still, if you like; there is time." + +"Thank you;--no." + +Paul gave her a look. She fancied that she saw in it regret. "Is it very +curious--your village? Perhaps it would be amusing, after all." + +He helped her into the canoe, and the next moment they were gliding up +the lake. The village was a temporary one, twenty or thirty wigwams in a +grove. Only the women and children were at home, the sweet-voiced young +squaws in their calico skirts and blankets, the queer little mummy-like +pappooses, the half-naked children. They brought out bows and arrows to +sell, agates which they had found on the beach, Indian sugar in little +birch-bark boxes, quaintly ornamented. + +"Tell them to gather some bluebells for me," said Eve. Her face had an +expression of joyousness; every now and then she laughed like a merry +girl. + +Paul repeated her request in the Chippewa tongue, and immediately all +the black-eyed children sallied forth, returning with large bunches of +the fragile-stemmed flowers, so that Eve's hands were full. She +lingered, sitting on the side of an old canoe; she distributed all the +small coins she had. Finally they were afloat again; she wondered who +had suggested it. "There's a gleam already," she said, as they passed +Jupiter Light. "Some day I should like to go out there." + +"I can take you now," Paul answered. And he sent the canoe flying +towards the reef. + +She had made no protest. "He wished to go," she said to herself, +contentedly. + +The distance was greater than she had supposed; it was twilight when +they reached the miniature beach. + +"Shall we make them let us in, and climb up to the top?" suggested Paul. + +She laughed. "No; better not." + +She looked up at the tower. Paul, standing beside her, his arms folded, +his head thrown back, was looking up also. "I can't see the least light +from here," he said. Then again, "_Don't_ you want to go up?" + +"Well--if you like." + +It was dark within; a man came down with a lantern, and preceded them up +the narrow winding stairway. When they reached the top they could see +nothing but the interior of the little room; so down they came again, +without even saying the usual things: about the probable queerness of +life in such a place; and whether any one could really like it; and that +some persons might be found who would consider it an ideal residence and +never wish to come away. Though their stay had been so short, their +going up so aimless, the expedition did not seem to Eve at all stupid; +in her eyes it had the air of an exciting adventure. + +"They will be wondering where we are," said Paul, as he turned the canoe +homeward. She did not answer, it was sweet to her to sit there in +silence, and feel the light craft dart forward through the darkness +under his strong strokes. Who were "they"? Why should "they" wonder? +Paul too said nothing. Unconsciously she believed that he shared her +mood. + +When they reached the camp he helped her out. "I hope you are not too +tired? At last I can have the credit of doing something that has pleased +you; I saw how much you wanted to go." + +He saw how much she had wanted to go!--that spoiled all. Anger filled +her heart to suffocation. + +Two hours later she stood looking from her tent for a moment. Cicely and +Jack, with whom she shared it, were asleep, and she herself was wrapped +in a blue dressing-gown over her delicate night-dress, her hair in long +braids hanging down her back. The judge and Hollis had gone to bed, the +Indians were asleep under their own tent; all was still, save the +regular wash of the water on the beach. By the dying light of the +camp-fire she could make out a figure--Paul, sitting alone beside one +of their rough tables, with his elbow upon it, his head supported by his +hand. Something in his attitude struck her, and reasonlessly, silently, +her anger against him vanished, and its place was filled by a great +tenderness. What was he thinking of? She did not know; she only knew one +thing--that she loved him. After looking at him for some minutes she +dropped the flap of the tent and stole to bed, where immediately she +began to imagine what she might say to him if she were out there, and +what he might reply; her remarks should be very original, touching, or +brilliant; and he would be duly impressed, and would gradually show more +interest. And then, when he began to advance, she would withdraw. So at +last she fell asleep. + +Meanwhile, outside by the dying fire, what was Paul Tennant thinking of? +His Clay County iron. He had had another offer, and this project was one +in which he should himself have a share. But could he accept it? Could +he pledge himself to advance the money required? He had only his salary +at present, all his savings having gone to Valparaiso; there were +Ferdie's expenses to think of, and Ferdie's wife, that little wife so +unreasonable and so sweet, she too must lack nothing. It grew towards +midnight; still he sat there pondering, adding figures mentally, +calculating. The bird which had so insistently cried "Whip-po-_Will_," +"Whip-po-_Will_," had ceased its song; there came from a distance, +twice, the laugh of a loon; Jupiter Light went on flashing its gleam +regularly over the lake. + +The man by the fire never once thought of Eve Bruce. + + + + +XVII. + + +PAUL'S arrangements, as regarded Cicely, had been excellent. But an hour +arrived when the excellence suddenly became of no avail; for Cicely's +mood changed. When the change had taken place, nothing that any of these +persons, who were devoting themselves to her, could do or say, weighed +with her for one instant. She came from her tent one morning, and said, +"Grandpa, please come down to the shore for a moment." She led the way, +and the judge followed her. When they reached the beach the moon was +rising, its narrow golden path crossed the lake to their feet. "I can't +stay here any longer, grandpa." + +"We will go back to Port aux Pins, then, dearie; though it seems a pity, +you have been so well here." + +"I don't mean Port aux Pins; I am going to Romney." + +"But I thought Ferdie had written to you not to come? Tennant certainly +said so, he assured me that Ferdie had written, urging you to stay here; +he has no right to deceive me in that way--Paul Tennant; it's +outrageous!" + +"Ferdie did write. And he didn't urge me to stay, he commanded me." + +"Then you must obey him," said the judge. + +"No; I must disobey him." She stood looking absently at the water. "He +has some reason." + +"Of course he has--an excellent one; he wants to keep you out of the +mess of a long illness--you and Jack." + +"I wish you would never mention Jack to me again." + +"My dear little girl,--not mention Jack? Why, how can we talk at all, +without mentioning baby?" + +"You and Eve keep bringing him into every conversation, because you +think it will have an influence--make me give up Ferdie. Nothing will +make me give up Ferdie. So you need not talk of baby any more." + +The judge looked at her with eyes of despair. + +Cicely went on. "No; it is not his illness that made Ferdie tell me to +stay here. He has some other reason. And I am _afraid._" + +"What are you afraid of?" + +"I don't know,--that is the worst of it! Since his letter, I have +imagined everything. I cannot bear it any longer; you must take me to +him to-morrow, or I shall start by myself; I could easily do it, I could +outwit you twenty times over." + +"Outwit? You talk in that way to _me?_" + +Cicely watched him as his face quivered, all his features seeming to +shrink together for an instant. "I suppose I seem selfish, grandpa." She +threw out her hands with sudden passion. "I don't want to be, I don't +mean to be! It is you who are keeping me here. Can't you see that I +_must_ go? _Can't_ you?" + +"Why no, I can't," said the old man, terrified by her vehemence. + +"There's no use talking, then." She left him, and went back through the +woods towards the tents. + +The judge came up from the beach alone. Hollis, who was sitting by the +fire, noted his desolate face. "Euchre?" he proposed, good-naturedly. +(He called it "yuke.") But the judge neither saw him nor heard him. + +As Cicely reached her tent, she met Eve coming out, with Jack in her +arms. She seized the child, felt of his feet and knees, and then, +holding him tightly, she carried him to the fire, where she seated +herself on a bench. Eve came also, and stood beside the fire. After a +moment the judge seated himself humbly on the other end of the bench +which held his grandchild. There was a pause, broken only by the +crackling of the flame. Then Cicely said, with a dry little laugh, "You +had better go to your tent, Mr. Hollis. You need not take part in this +family quarrel." + +"Quarrel!" replied Hollis, cheerily. "Who could quarrel with you, Mrs. +Morrison? Might as well quarrel with a bobolink." No one answered him. +"Don't know as you've ever seen a bobolink?" he went on, rather +anxiously. "I assure you--lively and magnificent!" + +"It is a pity you are so devoted to Paul," remarked Cicely, looking at +him. + +"Devoted? Well, now, I never thought I should come to _that_," said +Hollis, with a grin of embarrassment, kicking the brands of the fire +apart with, his boot. + +"Because if you weren't, I might take you into my confidence--I need +some one; I want to run away from grandpa and Eve." + +"Oh, I dare say," said Hollis, jocularly. But his eyes happening to fall +first upon Eve, then upon the judge, he grew suddenly disturbed. "Why +don't you take Paul?" he suggested, still trying to be jocular. "He is +a better helper than I am." + +"Paul is my head jailer," answered Cicely. "Grandpa and Eve are only his +assistants." + +The judge covered his face with his hand. Hollis saw that he was +suffering acutely. "Paul had better come and defend himself," he said, +still clinging to his jocosity; "I am going to get him." And he started +towards Paul's tent with long swinging strides, like the lope of an +Indian. + +"Cicely," said Eve, coming to the bench, "I will take you to Romney, if +that is what you want; we will start to-morrow." + +"Saul among the prophets!" answered Cicely, cynically. "Are you planning +to escape from me with Jack, as I am planning to escape from grandpa?" + +"I am not planning anything; I only want to help you." + +Cicely looked at her. "Curiously enough, Eve, I believe you. I don't +know what has changed you, but I believe you." + +The judge looked up; the two women held each other's hands. The judge +left his seat and hurried away. + +He arrived at Paul's tent breathless. The hanging lamp within +illuminated a rude table which held ink and paper; Paul had evidently +stopped in the midst of his writing, for he still held his pen in his +hand. + +"I was saying to Paul that he really ought to come out now and talk to +the ladies, instead of crooking his back over that writing," said +Hollis. + +But the judge waved him aside. "For God's sake, Tennant, come out, and +see what you can do with Cicely! She is determined to go to that +murdering brother of yours in spite of--" + +"Hold up, if you please, about my brother," said Paul, putting down his +pen. + +"And Eve is abetting her;--says she will take her to-morrow." + +"Not Miss Bruce? What has made her change so?--confound her!" + +The judge had already started to lead the way back. But Hollis, who was +behind, touched Paul's arm. "I say, don't confound her too much, Paul," +he said, in a low tone. "She is a remarkably clever girl. And she thinks +a lot of you." + +"Sorry for her, then," answered Paul, going out. As Hollis still kept up +with him, he added, "How do you know she does?" + +"Because I like her myself," answered Hollis, bravely. "When you're that +way, you know, you can always tell." + +He fell behind. Paul went on alone. + +When he reached the camp-fire, Cicely looked up. "Oh, you've come!" + +"Yes." + +"There are two of us now. Eve is on my side." + +"So I have heard." He went to Eve, took her arm, and led her away almost +by force to the shadow at some distance from the fire. "What in the +world has made you change so?" he said. "Do you know--it's abject." + +"Yes, it's abject," Eve answered. She could see him looking at her in +the dusky darkness; she had never been looked at in such a way before. +"It's brave, too," she added, trying to keep back the tears. + +"I don't understand riddles." + +"I think you understand mine." She had said it. She had been seized with +a sudden wild desire to make an end of it, to put it into words. The +overweight of daring which nature had given her drew her on. + +"Well, if I do, then," answered Paul, "why don't you want to please me?" + +She turned her head away, suffocated by his calm acceptance of her +avowal. "It would be of no use. And I want to make one woman happy; so +few women are happy!" + +"Do you call it happy to have Ferdie knocking her about?" + +"She does." + +"And knocking about Jack, too?" + +"I shall be there, I can take care of Jack." + +"I see I can do nothing with you. You have lost your senses!" + +He went back to Cicely. "Ferdie has his faults, Cicely, as we both know; +but you have yours too, you make yourself out too important. How many +other women do you think he has cared for?" + +"Before he saw me, five hundred, if you like; five thousand." + +"And since he saw you--since he married you?" + +Cicely laughed happily. + +"I will bring you something," said Paul. He went off to his tent. + +Eve came rapidly to Cicely. "Don't believe a word he tells you!" + +"If it is anything against Ferdie, of course I shall not," answered +Cicely, composedly. + +The judge had followed Paul to his tent. He waited anxiously outside, +and then followed him back. + +"I don't believe, after all, Cicely, that you are going to do what I +don't want you to do," said Paul, in a cheerful tone, as he came up. He +seemed to have abandoned whatever purpose he had had, for he brought +nothing with him--his hands were empty. + +Cicely did not reply, she played with a curl of Jack's hair. + +"Ferdie himself doesn't want you to go; you showed me his letter saying +so." + +"Yes." + +"Isn't that enough, then? Come, don't be so cold with me," Paul went on, +his voice taking caressing tones. + +Cicely felt their influence. "I want to go, Paul, because that very +letter of Ferdie's makes me afraid," she said, wistfully; "I feel that +there is something behind, something I do not know." + +"If there is, it is something which he does not wish you to know." + +"That could never be; it is only because I am not with him; when I am +with him, he tells me everything, he likes to tell me." + +"Will you take my word for it if I assure you that it is much better for +both of you, not only for yourself, but for Ferdie, that you stay here +awhile longer?" + +"No," replied Cicely, hardening. Her "no" was quiet, but it expressed an +obstinacy that was immovable. + +Paul looked at her. "Will you wait a week?" + +"No." + +"Will you wait three days?" + +"I shall start to-morrow," replied Cicely. + +"Read this, then." He took a letter from his pocket and held it towards +her, his name, "Paul Tennant, Esq.," clearly visible on the envelope in +the light of the flame. + +But at the same instant Eve bent forward; she grasped his arm, drawing +his hand back. + +"Don't _you_ interfere," he said, freeing himself. + +Eve turned to the judge. "Oh, take her away!" + +"Where to? I relied upon Tennant; I thought Tennant would be able to do +something," said the old man, miserably. + +Paul meanwhile, his back turned squarely to Eve, was again holding out +the letter to Cicely. + +Cicely did not take it. + +"I'll read it aloud, then." He drew the sheet from its envelope, and, +opening it, began, "'Dear old Paul--'" + +Cicely put out both her hands,--"Give it to me." She took it hastily. +"Oh, how can you treat him so--Ferdie, your own brother!" Her eyes were +full of tears. + +"I cared for him before you ever saw him," answered Paul, exasperated. +"What do you know about my feelings? Ferdie wishes you to stay here, and +every one thinks you exceedingly wrong to go--every one except Miss +Bruce, who seems to have lost her head." Here he flashed a short look at +Eve. + +"I shall go!" cried Cicely. + +"Because you think he cannot get on without you?" + +"I know he cannot." + +"Read the letter, then." + +"No, take the letter away from her," said Eve. She spoke to Paul, and +her tone was a command. He looked at her; with a sudden change of +feeling he tried to obey her. But it was too late, Cicely had thrust the +letter into the bodice of her dress; then she rose, her sleeping child +in her arms. "Grandpa, will you come with me? Will you carry Jack?" + +"I will take him," said Paul. + +"No, only grandpa, please; not even you, Eve; just grandpa and I. You +may come later; in fifteen minutes." She spoke with a dignity which she +had never shown before, and they went away together, the old man +carrying the sleeping child. + +"What was in that letter?" Eve demanded accusingly, as soon as they were +left alone. + +"Well, another woman." + +"Cruel!" + +"Yes, it seems so now," said Paul, disturbed. "My one idea about it was +that it might make her less confident that she was all-important to him; +in that way we could keep her on here a while longer." + +"Yes, with a broken heart." + +"Oh, hearts! rubbish!--the point was to make her stay. You haven't half +an idea how important it is, and I can't tell you; she cannot go back to +him until I have been down there and--and changed some things, made new +arrangements." + +"I think it the greatest cruelty I have ever heard of!" She hurried +through the woods towards the tents; Paul followed her. + +The judge came out as they approached. "She is reading it," he said in a +whisper. "Tennant, I hope you know what you are about?" + +"Yes; that letter will make her stay," answered Paul, decisively. + +Eve turned to enter the tent. + +"The fifteen minutes are not up," said Paul, holding her back. + +She drew away from him, but she did not try to enter again; they waited +in silence. + +Then came a sound. Eve ran within, the two men behind her. + +Little Jack, on the bed, was sleeping peacefully. Cicely had fallen from +her seat to the matting that covered the floor. + +Eve lifted her; kneeling on the matting, she held her in her arms. + + + + +XVIII. + + +The letter, though it was only a partial revelation, roused in Ferdie's +wife a passion of anger so intense that they were all alarmed. She did +not speak or stir; she sat looking at them; but her very immobility, +with the deep spot of red in each cheek, and her darkened narrowed eyes, +made her terrible. This state lasted for twenty-four hours, during which +time the poor old judge, unable to sit down or to sleep, wandered about, +Hollis accompanying him silently, and waiting outside when he went every +now and then to the entrance of the tent to look in. Paul came once. But +Cicely's eyes darkened so when she saw him that Eve hurriedly motioned +him away. She followed him out. + +"Do not come again until I send for you." + +"If there is nothing for me to do then, I might as well go to bed." + +"You are fortunate in being able to sleep!" + +"I shall sleep a great deal better than I did when I thought she would +be starting south in spite of us," retorted Paul. "Imagine her arriving +there and finding out--It's much worse than she knows; that letter only +tells a little. There are others, telling more, which I have kept back." + +"Did you really, then, keep back anything!" + +"She'll forgive me. She'll forgive me, and like me better than ever; +you'll see." + +"And is it a question of you? It is her husband, her faith in him, her +love for him," said Eve, passionately. + +"Oh, as to that, she will forgive _him_ the very first moment she sees +him," answered Paul, going off. + +Early in the morning of the second day, Cicely sent for him. "If you +don't still believe in him, if you don't still love him--" she began the +instant he entered, her poor little voice trying to be a threat. + +"Of course I believe in him." + +"And he is noble? and good?" + +"If you can call him that--to-day--you are a trump," said Paul, +delightedly. + +He had gained his point; and, by one of the miracles of love, she could +forgive her husband and excuse his fault; she could still worship him, +believe in him. Paul also believed in him, but in another way. And upon +this ground they met, Paul full of admiration for what he called her +pluck and common-sense (both were but love), and she adoring him for his +unswerving affection for his brother. Paul would go South soon; he +would--he would make arrangements. She pinned all her faith upon Paul +now; Paul was her demi-god because he believed in his brother. + +And thus the camp-life went on again. + +One morning, not long after this, Hollis and the judge were sitting at +the out-door table, engaged with their fishing-tackle. Hollis was +talking of the approaches of old age. + +"Yes, two sure signs of it are a real liking for getting up early in the +morning, and a promptness in doing little things. Contrariwise, an +impatience with the younger people, who _don't_ do 'em." + +"Stuff!" said the judge. "The younger people are lazy; that's the whole +of it." + +"Yet they do all the important work of the world," Hollis went on; "old +people only potter round. Take Paul, now--he ain't at all keen about +getting up at daylight; in fact, he has a most uncommon genius for +sleep; but, once up, he makes things drive all along the line, I can +tell you. Not the trifles" (here Hollis's voice took a sarcastic tone); +"not what borrowed books must be sent here, nor what small packages left +there; you never saw _him_ pasting slips out of a newspaper in a +blank-book, nor being particular about his ink, with a neat little tray +for pens; the things he concerns himself about are big things: ore +contracts, machinery for the mines, negotiations with thousands of +dollars tacked to the tail of 'em." + +"I dare say," said the judge, with a dry little yawn; "Mr. Tennant is, +without doubt, an excellent accountant." + +The tone of this remark, however, was lost upon Hollis. "That Paul, now, +has done, since I've known him, at least twenty things that I couldn't +have done myself, any one of them, to save my life," he went on; "and +yet I'm no fool. Not that they were big undertakings, like the Suez +Canal or the capture of Vicksburg; but at least they were things _done_, +and completely done. Have you ever noticed how mighty easy it is to +believe that you _could_ do all sorts of things if you only had the +opportunity? The best way, sir, to go on believing that is never to let +yourself try! I once had a lot of that kind of fool conceit myself. But +I know better now; I know that from top to bottom and all round I'm a +failure." + +The judge made no effort to contradict this statement; he changed the +position of his legs a little, by way of answer, so as not to appear too +discourteous. + +"I'm a failure because I always see double," pursued Hollis, +meditatively; "I'm like a stereoscope out of kilter. When I was +practising law, the man I was pitching into always seemed to me to have +his good side; contrariwise, the man I was defending had his bad one; +and rather more bad because my especial business was to make him out a +capital good fellow." + +There was a sound of voices; Paul came through the wood on his way to +the beach, with Cicely; Eve, behind them, was leading Jack. + +"Are you going out again?" said the judge. + +"Yes. Paul can go this morning," Cicely answered. + +"But you were out so long yesterday," said the old man, following them. + +"Open air fatigue is a good fatigue," said Paul, as he lifted Cicely +into one of the canoes. + +The judge had stopped at the edge of the beach; he now went slowly back +into the wood and joined Hollis. + +"Your turn, Miss Bruce," said Paul. And Eve and Jack were placed in a +second canoe. One of the Indians was to paddle it, but he was not quite +ready. Paul and Cicely did not wait; they started. + + "I's a-goin' wis old Eve!--_old_ Eve!--_old_ Eve!" + +chanted Jack, at the top of his voice, to the tune of "Charley is my +darling," which Hollis had taught him. + +"Seems mean that she should have to go with a Chip, when there are white +men round," said Hollis. + +The judge made no reply. + +But Eve at that moment called, "Mr. Hollis, are you busy? If not, +couldn't you come with me instead of this man?" + +Hollis advanced to the edge of the woods and made a bow. "I am +exceedingly pleased to accept. My best respects." He then took off his +coat, and, clucking to the Indian as a sign of dismissal, he got into +the canoe with the activity of a boy, and pushed off. + +It was a beautiful day. The thick woods on the shore were outlined +sharply in the Northern air against the blue sky. Hollis paddled slowly. + +"Why do you keep so far behind the other boat?" said Eve, after a while. + +"That's so; I'm just loafing," answered Hollis. + +"Christopher H., paddle right along," he went on to himself. "You +needn't be so afraid that Paul will grin; he'll understand." + +And Paul did understand. At the end of half an hour, when Eagle Point +was reached, and all had disembarked, he came to Hollis, and stood +beside him for a moment. + +"This canoe is not one of the best," Hollis remarked. + +"No," said Paul. + +"I think we can make it do for a while longer, though," Hollis went on, +examining it more closely. + +"I dare say we can," Paul answered. + +They stood there together for a moment, rapping it and testing it in +various ways; then they separated, perfectly understanding each other. +"I really didn't try to come with her:" this was the secret meaning of +Hollis's remark about the canoe. + +And "I know you didn't," was the signification of Paul's answer. + +Cicely and Eve were sitting on the beach. It was a wild shore, clean, +untouched by man; the pure waters of the lake rolled up and laved its +glistening brown pebbles. Jack ramped up and down against Eve's knees. +"Sing to Jacky--poor, _poor_ Jacky!" he demanded loudly. + +"That child is too depressing with his 'Poor Jacky'!" said Cicely. +"Never say that again, Jack; do you hear?" + +"Poor, _poor_ Jacky!" said the boy immediately, as though he were +irresistibly forced to try the phrase again. + +"He heard some one say it to that parrot in Port aux Pins," explained +Eve. + +"Oh, I shall never be able to govern him!" Cicely answered. + +"Sing to Jacky, Aunty Eve--poor, poor Jacky!" + +And in a low tone Eve began to sing: + + _"'Row the boat, row the boat up to the strand;_ + _Before our door there is dry land._ + _Who comes hither all booted and spurred?_ + _Little Jacky Bruce with his hand on his sword.'"_ + +Paul came up. "Now for a walk," he said to Cicely. + +"I am sorry, Paul. But if I sit here it will be lovely; if I walk, I am +afraid I shall be too tired." + +"I'll stay here, then; I am not at all keen about a tramp." + +"No, please go. And take Eve." + +"Uncly Paul, not _old_ Eve. I want old Eve," announced Jack, reasonably. + +"You don't seem to mind his calling you that," said Paul, laughing. + +"Why should I?" Eve answered. "I don't care for a walk, thanks." + +"Make her go," continued Cicely; "march her off." + +"Will you march?" asked Paul. + +"Not without a drum and fife." + +Jack was now cooing without cessation, and in his most insinuating +tones, "Sing to Jacky--poor, _poor_ Jacky. Sing to Jacky--poor, _poor_ +Jacky!" + +She took him in her arms and walked down the beach with him, going on +with her song in a low tone: + + _"'He knocks at the door and he pulls up the pin,_ + _And he says, "Mrs. Wingfield, is Polly within?"_ + _"Oh, Polly's up-stairs a-sewing her silk."_ + _Down comes Miss Polly as white as milk.'"_ + +"Eve never does what you ask, Paul," remarked Cicely. + +"Do I ask so often?" + +"I wish you would ask her oftener." + +"To be refused oftener?" + +"To gain your point--to conquer her. She is too self-willed--for a +woman." She looked at Paul with a smile. + +The tie between them had become very close, and it was really her +dislike to see him rebuffed, even in the smallest thing, that made her +say, alluding to Eve, "Conquer her; she is too self-willed--for a +woman." + +Paul smiled. "I shall never conquer her." + +"Try, begin now; make her think that you _want_ her to walk with you." + +"But I don't." + +"Can't you pretend?" + +"Why should I?" + +"Well, to please me." + +"You're an immoral little woman," said Paul, laughing. "I'll go; +remember, however, that you sent me." He went up the beach to meet Eve, +who was still walking to and fro, singing to Jack, Hollis accompanying +them after his fashion; that is, following behind, and stopping to skip +a stone carelessly when they stopped. Paul went straight to Eve. "I wish +you would go with me for a walk," he said. He looked at her, his glance, +holding hers, slowly became entreating. The silence between them lasted +an appreciable instant. + +"I will go," said Eve. + +Jack seemed to understand that his supremacy was in danger. "No, old +Eve--no. I want old Eve, Uncly Paul," he said, in his most persuasive +voice. Then, to make himself irresistible, he began singing Eve's song: + + _"'Who pums idder, all booted an' spurred?_ + _Little Jacky Bruce wiz his han' on his sword.'"_ + +Hollis came up. "Were you wanting to go off somewhere? I'll take Jack." + +"Old man, _you_ get out," suggested Jack, calmly. + +"Oh, where does he learn such things?" said Eve. She thought she was +distressed--she meant to be; but there was an undertide of joyousness, +which Hollis saw. + +"On the contrary, Jackum, I'll get in," he answered. "If it's singing +you want, I can sing very beautifully. And I can dance too; looker +here." And skipping across the beach in a Fisher's Horn-pipe step, he +ended with a pigeon's wing. + +Jack, in an ecstasy of delight, sprang up and down in Eve's arms. +"'Gain! 'gain!" he cried, imperiously, his dimpled forefinger pointed at +the dancer. + +Again Hollis executed his high leap. "Now you'll come to me, I guess," +he said. And Jack went readily. "You are going for a walk, I suppose?" +Hollis went on. "There's nothing very much in these woods to make it +lively." He had noted the glow of anticipation in her face, and was glad +that he had contributed to it. But when he turned to Paul, expecting as +usual to see indifference, he did not see it; and instantly his feelings +changed, he felt befooled. + +Jack made prodding motions with his knees. "Dant! dant!" + +"I'll dance in a few minutes, my boy," said Hollis. + +Paul and Eve went up the beach and turned into the wood. It was a +magnificent evergreen forest without underbrush; above, the sunlight was +shut out, they walked in a gray-green twilight. The stillness was so +intense that it was oppressive. + + + + +XIX. + + +They walked for some distance without speaking. "I have just been +writing to Ferdie," Paul said at last. + +The gray-green wood had seemed to Eve like another world, an enchanted +land. Now she was forced back to real life again. "Oh, if he would only +say nothing--just go on without speaking; it's all I ask," she thought. + +"I shall go down there in ten days or so," Paul went on. "Ferdie will be +up then--in all probability well. I shall take him to Charleston, and +from there we shall sail." + +"Sail?" + +"To Norway." + +"Norway?" + +"Didn't I tell you?--I have made up my mind that a long voyage in a +sailing vessel will be the best thing for him just now." + +"And you go too?" + +"Of course." + +"Four or five weeks, perhaps?" + +"Four or five months; as it grows colder, we can come down to the +Mediterranean." + +A chill crept slowly over Eve. "Was it--wasn't it difficult to arrange +for so long an absence?" + +"As Hollis would phrase it, 'You bet it was!'" answered Paul, laughing. +"I shall come back without a cent in either pocket; but I've been +centless before--I'm not terrified." + +"If you would only take some of mine!" + +"You will have Cicely. We shall both have our hands full." + +She looked up at him more happily; they were to be associated together +in one way, then, after all. But a vision followed, a realization of the +blankness that was to come. Less than two weeks and he would be gone! + +"When the journey is over, shall you bring Ferdie to Port aux Pins?" + +"That depends. On the whole, I think not; Ferdie would hate the place; +it's comical what tastes he has--that boy! My idea is that he will do +better in South America; he has already made a beginning there, and +likes the life. This time he can take Cicely with him, and that will +steady him; he will go to housekeeping, he will be a family man." And +Paul smiled; to him, Ferdie was still the lad of fifteen years before. + +But in Eve's mind rose a recollection of the light of a candle far down +a narrow road. "Oh, don't let her go with him! Don't!" + +Paul stopped. "You are sometimes so frightened, I have noticed that. And +yet you are no coward. What happened--really? What did you do?" + +She could not speak. + +"I'm a brute to bother you about it," Paul went on. "But I have always +felt sure that you did more that night than you have ever acknowledged; +Cicely couldn't tell us, you see, because she had fainted. How strange +you look! Are you ill?" + +"It is nothing. Let us walk on." + +"As you please." + +"If they go to South America, why shouldn't you go with them?" he said, +after a while, returning to his first topic. "You will have to go if you +want to keep a hold on Jack, for Cicely will never give him up to you +for good and all, as you have hoped. If you were with them, _I_ should +feel a great deal safer." + +Well, that was something. Was this, then, to be her occupation for the +future--by a watch over Ferdie, to make his brother more comfortable? +She tried to give a sarcastic turn to this idea. But again the feeling +swept over her: Oh, if it had only been any one but Ferdinand +Morrison!--Ferdinand Morrison! + +"How you shuddered!" said Paul. Walking beside her, he had felt her +tremble. "You certainly are ill." + +"No. But don't let us talk of any of those things to-day, let us forget +them." + +"How can we?" + +"_I_ can!" The color rose suddenly in her cheeks; for the moment she was +beautiful. "My last walk with him! When he is gone, the days will be a +blank." + +--"It is my last walk with you!" she said aloud, pursuing the current of +her thoughts. + +He looked at her askance. + +His glance brought her back to reality. She turned and left him; she +walked rapidly towards the lake, coming out on the beach beyond Eagle +Point. + +He followed her, and, as he came up, his eyes took possession of and +held hers, as they had done before; then, after a moment, he put his arm +round her, drew her to him, and bent his face to hers. + +She tried to spring from him. But he still held her. "What shall I say +to excuse myself, Eve?" + +The tones of his voice were very sweet. But he was smiling a little too. +She saw it; she broke from his grasp. + +"You look as though you could kill me!" he said. + +(And she did look so.) + +"Forgive me," he went on; "tell me you don't mind." + +"I should have thought--that what I confessed to you--you know, that +day-- + +But there were no subtleties in Paul. "Why, that was the very reason," +he answered. "What did you tell me for, if you didn't want me to think +of it?" Then he took a lighter tone. "Come, forget it. It was +nothing.--What's one kiss?" + +Eve colored deeply. + +And then, suddenly, Paul Tennant colored too. + +He turned his head away, and his glance, resting on the water, was +stopped by something--a dark object floating. He put up a hand on each +side of his face and looked more steadily. "Yes. No. _Yes!_ There's a +_woman_ out there--lashed to something. I must go out and see." He had +thrown his hat down upon the sand as he spoke; he was hastily taking off +his coat and waistcoat, his shoes and stockings; then he waded out +rapidly, and when the rock shelved off, he began to swim. + +Eve stood watching him mechanically. "He has already forgotten it!" + +Paul reached the dark object. Then, after a short delay, she could see +that he was trying to bring it in. + +But his progress was slow. + +"Oh, there must be something the matter! Perhaps a cramp has seized +him." A terrible impatience took possession of her; it was impossible +for him to hear her, yet she cried to him at the top of her voice, and +fiercely: "Let it go! Let it go, I say! Come in alone. Who cares for it, +whatever it is?" It was not until his burden lay on the beach that she +could turn her mind from him in the least, or think of what he had +brought. + +The burden was a girl of ten, a fair child with golden curls, now heavy +with water; her face was calm, the eyes peacefully closed. She had been +lashed to a plank by somebody's hand--whose? Her father's? Or had it +been done by a sobbing mother, praying, while she worked, that she and +her little daughter might meet again. + +"It's dreadful, when they're so young," said big Paul, bending over the +body reverently to loosen the ropes. He finished his task, and +straightened himself. "A collision or a fire. If it was a fire, they +must have seen it from Jupiter Light." He scanned the lake. "Perhaps +there are others who are not dead; I must have one of the canoes at +once. I'll go by the beach. You had better follow me." He put on his +shoes, and, dripping as he was, he was off again like a flash, running +towards the west at a vigorous speed. + +Eve watched him until he was out of sight. Then she sat down beside the +little girl and began to dry her pretty curls, one by one, with her +handkerchief. Even then she kept thinking, "He has forgotten it!" + +By-and-by--it seemed to her a long time--she saw a canoe coming round +the point. It held but one person--Paul. He paddled rapidly towards her. +"Why didn't you follow me, as I told you to?" he said, almost angrily. +"Hollis has gone back to the camp for more canoes and the Indians; he +took Cicely, and he ought to have taken you." + +"I wanted to stay here." + +"You will be in the way; drowned people are not always a pleasant sight. +Sit where you are, then, since you are here; if I come across anything, +I'll row in at a distance from you." + +He paddled off again. + +But before very long she saw him returning. "Are you really not afraid?" +he asked, as his canoe grated on the beach. + +"No." + +"There's some one out there. But I find I can't lift anything into this +canoe alone--it's so tottlish; I could swim and tow, though, if I had +the canoe as a help. Can you paddle?" + +"Yes." + +"Get in, then." He stepped out of the boat, and she took his place. He +pushed it off and waded beside her until the water came to his chin; +then he began to swim, directing her course by a movement of his head. +She used her paddle very cautiously, now on one side, now on the other, +the whole force of her attention bent upon keeping the little craft +steady. After a while, chancing to raise her eyes, she saw something +dark ahead. Fear seized her, she could not look at it; she felt faint. +At the same moment, Paul left her, swimming towards the floating thing. +With a determined effort at self-control, she succeeded in turning the +canoe, and waited steadily until Paul gave the sign. Keeping her eyes +carefully away from that side, she then started back towards the shore, +Paul convoying his floating freight a little behind her. As they +approached the beach, he made a motion signifying that she should take +the canoe farther down; when she was safely at a distance, he brought +his tow ashore. It was the body of a sailor. The fragment of deck +planking to which he was tied had one end charred; this told the +dreadful tale--fire at sea. + +The sailor was dead, though it was some time before Paul would +acknowledge it. At length he desisted from his efforts. He came down the +beach to Eve, wiping his forehead with his wet sleeve. "No use, he's +dead. I am going out again." + +"I will go with you, then." + +"If you are not too tired?" + +They went out a second time. They saw another dark object half under +water. Again the sick feeling seized her; but she turned the canoe +safely, and they came in with their load. This time, when he dismissed +her, she went back to the little girl, and, landing, sat down; she was +very tired. + +After a while she heard sounds--four canoes coming rapidly round the +point, the Indians using their utmost speed. She rose; Hollis, who was +in the first canoe, saw her, and directed his course towards her. "Why +did you stay here?" he demanded, sternly, as he saw the desolate little +figure of the child. + +Eve began to excuse herself. "I was of use before you came; I went out; +I helped." + +"Paul shouldn't have asked you." + +"He had to; he couldn't do it alone." + +"He shouldn't have asked you." He went off to Paul, and she sat down +again; she took up her task of drying the golden curls. After a while +the sound of voices ceased, and she knew that they had all gone out on +the lake for further search. She went on with what she was doing; but +presently, in the stillness, she began to feel that she must turn and +look; she was haunted by the idea that one of the men who had been +supposed to be dead was stealing up noiselessly to look over her +shoulder. She turned. And then she saw Hollis sitting not far away. + +"Oh, I am so glad you are there!" + +Hollis rose and came nearer, seating himself again quietly. "I thought I +wouldn't leave you all alone." + +She scanned the water. The five canoes were clustered together far out; +presently, still together, they moved in towards the shore. + +"They are bringing in some one else!" + +"Sha'n't we go farther away?" suggested Hollis--"farther towards the +point? I'll go with you." + +"No, I shall stay with this little girl; I do not intend to leave her. +You won't understand this, of course; only a woman would understand it." + +"Oh, I understand," said Hollis. + +But Eve ignored him. "The canoes are keeping all together in a way they +haven't done before. Do you think--oh, it must be that they have got +some one who is _living!_" + +"It's possible." + +"They are holding something up so carefully." She sprang to her feet. "I +am sure I saw it move! Paul has really saved somebody. How _can_ you sit +there, Mr. Hollis? Go and find out!" + +Hollis went. In twenty minutes he came back. + +"Well?" said Eve, breathlessly. + +"Yes, there's a chance for this one; he'll come round, I guess." + +"Paul has saved him." + +"I don't know that he's much worth the saving; he looks a regular +scalawag." + +"How can you say that--a human life!" + +Hollis looked down at the sand, abashed. + +"Couldn't I go over there for a moment?" Eve said, still excitedly +watching the distant group. + +"Better not." + +"Tell me just how Paul did it, then?" she asked. "For of course it was +he, the Indians don't know anything." + +"Well, I can't say how exactly. He brought him in." + +"Isn't he wonderful!" + +"I have always thought him the cleverest fellow I have ever known," +responded poor Hollis, stoutly. + +The next day the little girl, freshly robed and fair, was laid to rest +in the small forest burying-ground belonging to Jupiter Light; Eve had +not left her. There were thirty new mounds there before the record was +finished. + +"Steamer _Mayhew_ burned, Tuesday night, ten miles east Jupiter Light, +Lake Superior. Fifteen persons known to be saved. _Mayhew_ carried +twenty cabin passengers and thirty-five emigrants. Total loss." +(Associated Press despatch.) + +Soon after this the camp was abandoned; as Paul was to go south so soon, +he could not give any more time to forest-life, and they all, therefore, +returned to Port aux Pins together. Once there Paul seemed to have no +thought for anything but his business affairs. And Eve, in her heart, +said again, "He has forgotten!" + + + + +XX. + + +FOURTH OF JULY at Port aux Pins; a brilliant morning with the warm sun +tempering the cool air, and shining on the pure cold blue of the lake. + +At ten o'clock, the cannon began to boom; the guns were planted at the +ends of the piers, and the men of the Port aux Pins Light Artillery held +themselves erect, trying to appear unconscious of the presence of the +whole town behind them, eating peanuts, and criticising. + +The salute over, the piers were deserted, the procession was formed. The +following was the order as printed in the Port aux Pins _Eagle:_ + + "The Marshal of the Day. + + The Goddess of Liberty. (Parthenia Drone.) + + The Clergy. (In carriages.) + + Fire-Engine E. P. Snow. + + The Mayor and Common Council. (In carriages.) + + Hook and Ladder No. 1. + + The Immortal Colonies. (Thirteen little girls in a wagon, + singing the 'Red, White, and Blue.') + + Fire-Engine Leander Braddock. + +The Carnival of Venice. (This was a tableau. It represented the facade +of a Venetian palace, skilfully constructed upon the model of the +Parthenon, with Wolf Roth in an Indian canoe below, playing upon his +guitar. Wolf was attired, as a Venetian, in a turban, a spangled jacket, +high cavalry boots with spurs, and powdered hair; Idora Drone looked +down upon him from a Venetian balcony; she represented a Muse.) + + Reader of the Declaration of Independence, and Orator of + the Day. (In carriages.) + + The Survivors of the War. (On foot with banners.) + + Model of Monument to Our Fallen Heroes. + + The Band. (Playing 'The Sweet By-and-By.') + + Widows of Our Fallen Heroes. (In carriages.) + + Fire-Engine Senator M. P. Hagen. + +The Arts and Sciences. (Represented by the portable printing-press of +the Port aux Pins _Eagle_; wagons from the mines loaded with iron ore; +and the drays, coal-carts, and milk-wagons in a procession, adorned with +streamers of pink tarlatan)." + +Cicely watched the procession from the windows of Paul's office, +laughing constantly. When Hollis passed, sitting stiffly erect in his +carriage--he was the "Reader of the Declaration of Independence"--she +threw a bouquet at him, and compelled him to bow; Hollis was adorned +with a broad scarf of white satin, fastened on the right shoulder with +the national colors. + +"I am going to the public square to hear him read," Cicely announced, +suddenly. "Paul, you must take me. And you must go too, grandpa." + +"I will keep out of the rabble, I think," said the judge. + +"Oh, come on; I dare say you have never heard the thing read through in +your life," suggested Paul, laughing. + +"The Declaration of Independence? My grandfather, sir, was a signer!" + +The one church bell (Baptist) and the two little fire bells were +jangling merrily when they reached the street. People were hurrying +towards the square; many of them were delegates from neighboring towns +who had accompanied their fire-engines to Port aux Pins on this, the +nation's birthday. White dresses were abundant; the favorite refreshment +was a lemon partially scooped out, the hollow filled with lemon candy. +When they reached the square Paul established Cicely on the top of a +fence, standing behind to steady her; and presently the procession +appeared, wheeling slowly in, and falling into position in a half-circle +before the main stand, the gayly decorated fire-engines in front, with +the Carnival of Venice and the Goddess of Liberty, one at each end. The +clergy, the mayor and common council, the orator of the day, were +escorted to their places on the stand, and the ceremonies opened. +By-and-by came the turn of Hollis. In a high voice he began: + +"When in the _course_--of human _events_, it becomes necessary for one +people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with +_another_--" + +"Cheer!" whispered Cicely to Paul. + +Paul, entering into it, set up hurrahs with so much vigor that all the +people near him joined in patriotically, to the confusion of the reader, +who went on, however, as well as he could: + +"We hold these _truths_--to be self-_evident_, that all men are created +_equal_--" + +"Again," murmured Cicely. + +And again Paul's corner burst forth irrepressibly, followed after a +moment by the entire assemblage, glad to be doing something in a vocal +way on their own account, and determined to have their money's worth of +everything, noise and all. + +And so, from "the present king of Great Britain" to "our lives, our +forrchuns, and our sacrred _honor_" on it went, a chorus of hurrahs +growing louder and louder until they became roars. + +"I knew it was you," Hollis said to Paul, when, later, his official +duties over, and his satin scarf removed, he appeared at the cottage to +talk it over. + +"But say, did you notice the widows of our fallen heroes? They had a +sort of glare under their crape. You see, once we had eight of 'em, but +this year there is only one left; all the rest have married again. Now +it happens that this very year the Soldiers' Monument is done at last, +and naturally the committee wanted the widows to ride in the procession. +The one widow who was left declared that she would not ride all alone; +she said it would look as though no one had asked her, whereas she had +had at least three good offers. So the committee went to the others and +asked them to dress up as former widows, just for to-day. So they did; +and lots of people cried when they came along, two and two, all in +black, so pathetic." He sprang up to greet Eve, who was entering, and +the foot-board entangled itself with his feet, after the peculiarly +insidious fashion of extension-chairs. "Instrument of torture!" he said, +grinning. + +"I will leave it to you in my will," declared Paul. "And it is just as +well to say it now, before witnesses, because I am going away +to-morrow." + +"To-morrow!" said Cicely. + +"Only to Lakeville on business. I shall be back the day before I start +south." + +"There go the last few hours!" thought Eve. + +The third evening after, Hollis came up the path to Paul's door. The +judge, Eve, Cicely, and Porley with Jack, were sitting on the steps, +after the Port aux Pins fashion. They had all been using their best +blandishments to induce Master Jack to go to bed; but that young +gentleman refused; he played patty-cake steadily with Porley, looking at +the others out of the corner of his eye; and if Porley made the least +attempt to rise, he set up loud bewailings, with his face screwed, but +without a tear. It was suspected that these were pure artifice; and not +one of his worshippers could help admiring his sagacity. They altogether +refrained from punishing it. + +"I was at the post-office, so I thought I'd just inquire for you," said +Hollis. "There was only one letter; it's for Miss Bruce." + +Eve took the letter and put it in her pocket. She had recognized the +handwriting instantly. + +Hollis, who also knew the handwriting, began to praise himself in his +own mind as rapidly as he could for bringing it. "It was a good thing to +do, and a kind thing; you must manage jobs like that for her often, C. +Hollis. Then you'll be sure that you ain't, yourself, a plumb fool. She +doesn't open it? Of course she doesn't. Sit down, and stop your jawing!" + +Eve did not open her letter until she reached her own room. It was +eleven o'clock; when she was safely behind her bolted door, she took it +from its envelope and read it. She read it and re-read it; holding it in +her hand, she pondered over it. She was standing by the mantelpiece +because her lamp was there. After a while she became half conscious that +the soles of her feet were aching; she bore it some time longer, still +half consciously. When it was one o'clock she sat down. The letter was +as follows: + + "DEAR EVE,--Now that I am away from her, I can see that Cicely is + not so well as we have thought. All that laughing yesterday morning + wasn't natural; I am afraid that she will break down completely + when I start south. So I write to suggest that you take her off for + a trip of ten days or so; you might go to St. Paul. Then she + needn't see me at all, and it really would be better. + + "As to seeing you again-- + + "Yours sincerely, PAUL TENNANT." + +"Why did he write, 'As to seeing you again,' and then stop? What was it +that he had intended to say, and why did he leave it unfinished? 'As to +seeing you again--' Supposing it had been, 'As to seeing you again, I +dread it!' But no, he would never say that; he doesn't dread +anything--me least of all! Probably it was only, 'As to seeing you +again, there would be nothing gained by it; it would be for such a short +time.'" + +But imagination soon took flight anew. "Possibly, remembering that day +in the wood, he was going to write, 'As to seeing you again, do you wish +to see me? Is it really true that you care for me a little? It was so +brave to tell it! A petty spirit could never have done it.' But no, that +is not what he would have thought; he likes the other kind of +women--those who do not tell." She laid her head down upon her arms. + +Presently she began again: "He had certainly intended to write something +which he found himself unable to finish; the broken sentence tells that. +What could it have been? Any ordinary sentence, like, 'As to seeing you +again, it is not necessary, as you know already my plans,'--if it had +been anything like that, he _would_ have finished it; it would have been +easy to do so. No; it was something different. Oh, if it could only have +been, 'As to seeing you again, I _must_ see you, it must be managed in +some way; I cannot go without a leave-taking!'" She sat up; her eyes +were now radiant and sweet. Their glance happened to fall upon her +watch, which was lying, case open, upon the table. Four o'clock. "I have +sat here all night! I am losing my wits." She undressed rapidly, +angrily. Clad in white, she stood brushing her hair, her supple figure +taking, all unconsciously, enchanting postures as she now held a long +lock at arm's-length, and now, putting her right hand over her shoulder, +brushed out the golden mass that fell from the back of her head to her +knees. "But he must have intended to write something unusual, even if +not of any of the things I have been thinking of; then he changed his +mind. That is the only solution of his leaving it unfinished--the only +possible solution." This thought still filled her heart when daylight +came. + +The evening before, sitting in the bar-room of the Star Hotel, +Lakeville, Paul had written his letter. He had got as far as, "Then she +needn't see me at all, and it really would be better. As to seeing you +again," when a voice said, "Hello, Tennant!--busy?" + +"Nothing important," replied Paul, pushing back the sheet of paper. + +The visitor shook hands; then he seated himself, astride, on one of the +bar-room chairs, facing the wooden back, which he hugged tightly. He had +come to talk about Paul's Clay County iron; he had one or two ideas +about it which he thought might come to something. + +Paul, too, thought that they might come to something when he heard what +they were. He was excited; he began to jot down figures on the envelope +which he had intended for Eve. Finally he and the new-comer went out +together; before going he put the letter in his pocket. + +When he came in, it was late. "First mail to Port aux Pins?" he +inquired. + +"Five o'clock to-morrow morning," replied the drowsy waiter. + +"Must finish it to-night, then," he thought. He took out the crumpled +sheet, and, opening it, read through what he had written. "What was it I +was going to add?" He tried to recall the train of thought. But he was +sleepy (as Hollis said, Paul had a genius for sleep); besides, his mind +was occupied by the new business plan. "I haven't the slightest idea +what I was going to say.--A clear profit of fifty thousand in four +years; that isn't bad. Ferdie will need a good deal. Ye-ough!" (a yawn). +"What _was_ it I was going to say?--I can't imagine. Well, it couldn't +have been important, in any case. I'll just sign it, and let it go." So +he wrote, "Yours sincerely, Paul Tennant;" and went to bed. + + + + +XXI. + + +PAUL came back to Port aux Pins five days before the time of his +departure for the South. Cicely was still there. She had refused to go +to St. Paul. "The only Paul I care for is the one here. What an i-dea, +Eve, that I should choose just this moment for a trip! It looks as +though you were trying to keep me away from him." + +"I'm not trying; it's Paul," Eve might have answered. + +"It must be curious to be such a cold sort of person as you are," Cicely +went on, looking at her. "You have only one feeling that ever gives you +any trouble, haven't you? That's anger." + +"I am never angry with you," Eve answered, with the humility which she +always showed when Cicely made her cutting little speeches. + +Paul had been right. As the time of his departure for Romney drew near, +Cicely grew restless. She was seized with fits of wild weeping. At last, +when there were only two days left, Paul proposed a drive--anything to +change, even if only upon the surface, the current of her thoughts. "We +will go to Betsy Lake, and pay a visit to the antiquities." + +The mine at Betsy Lake--the Lac aux Becs-Scies of the early Jesuit +explorers--had been abandoned. Recently traces of work there in +prehistoric times had been discovered, with primitive tools which +excited interest in the minds of antiquarians. The citizens of Port aux +Pins were not antiquarians; they said "Mound Builders;" and troubled +themselves no more about it. + +"We had better spend the night at the butter-woman's," Paul suggested. +"It is too far for one day." + +Eve did not go with the party. They had started at three o'clock, +intending to visit a hill from which there was an extensive view, before +going on to the butter-woman's farm-house. At four she herself went out +for a solitary walk. + +As she was passing a group of wretched shanties, beyond the outskirts of +the town, a frightened woman came out of one of them, calling loudly, +"Mrs. Halley! oh, Mrs. _Halley_, your _Lyddy is dying!_" + +A second woman, who was hanging out clothes, dropped the garment she had +in her hand and ran within; Eve followed her. A young girl, who appeared +to be in a spasm, occupied the one bed, a poor one; the mother rushed +to her. In a few minutes the danger was over, and the girl fell into a +heavy sleep. + +"That Mrs. Sullivan--she's too sprightly," said Mrs. Halley, after she +had dismissed her frightened neighbor. "I just invited her to sit here +_trenquilly_ while I put out me clothes, when lo! she begins and screams +like mad. She's had no education, that's plain. There's nothing the +matter with my Lyddy except that she's delicate, and as soon as she's a +little better I'm going to have her take music lessons on the peanner." + +Eve looked at Mrs. Halley's ragged, wet dress, and at the wan, pinched +face of the sleeping girl. "It is a pity you have to leave her," she +said. "Couldn't you get somebody to do your washing?" + +"I take in washing, miss; I'm a lady-laundress. Only the best; I never +wash for the boats." + +"How much do you earn a week?" + +"Oh, a tidy sum," answered Mrs. Halley. Then, seeing that Eve had taken +out her purse, her misery overcame her pride, and she burst forth, +suddenly: "_Never_ more than three dollars, miss, with me slaving from +morning to night. And I've five children besides poor Lyddy there." + +Eve gave her a five-dollar bill. + +"Oh, may the Lord bless you!" she began to cry. "And me with me skirt +all wet, and the house not clean, when the chariot of the Lord descended +upon me!" She sank into a chair, her toil-worn hands over her face, her +tired back bent forward, relaxed at last, and resting. + +Eve pursued her investigations; she sent a boy to town for provisions, +and waited to see a meal prepared. Mrs. Halley, still wet and ragged, +but now refreshed by joy, moved about rapidly; at last there was nothing +more to do but to sit down and wait. "She was the prettiest of all my +children," she remarked, indicating the sleeping girl with a motion of +her head. + +"She is still pretty," Eve answered. + +"Yet you never saw _her_ making eyes at gentlemen like some; there's a +great deal of making eyes at Potterpins. Rose Bonham, now--she got a +silk dress out of Mr. Tennant no longer ago as last March." + +"Mr. Tennant?" + +"Yes; the gentleman who superintends the mine. Not that I have anything +to say against him; gentlemen has their priviluges. All I say +is--_girls_ hasn't!" + +Eve had risen. "I must go; I will come again soon." + +"Oh, miss," said the woman, dropping her gossip, and returning to her +gratitude (which was genuine)--"oh, miss, mayn't I know your name? I +want to put it in me prayers. There was just three cents in the house, +miss, when you came; and Lyddy she couldn't eat the last meal I got for +her--a cracker and a piece of mackerel." + +"You can pray for me without a name," said Eve, going out. + +She felt as though there were hot coals in her throat, she could +scarcely breathe. She went towards the forest, and, entering it by a +cart-track, walked rapidly on. Rose Bonham was the daughter of the +butter-woman. Bonham had a forest farm about five miles from Port aux +Pins on the road to Betsy Lake, and his wife kept Paul's cottage +supplied with butter. Eve had seen the daughter several times; she was a +very beautiful girl. Eve and Cicely thought her bold; but the women who +eat the butter are apt to think so of those who bring it, if the +bringers have sparkling eyes, peach-like complexions, and the gait of +Hebe. + +And Paul himself had suggested the spending the night there--an entirely +unnecessary thing--under the pretence of gaining thereby an earlier +start in the morning. + +She came to a little pool of clear water; pausing beside it, half +unconsciously, she beheld the reflection of her face in its mirror, and +something seemed to say to her, "What is your education, your culture, +your senseless pride worth, when compared with the peach-like bloom of +that young girl?" Her own image looked up at her, pale, cold, and stern; +it did not seem to her to have a trace of beauty. She took a stone, and, +casting it in the pool, shattered the picture. "I wish I were beautiful +beyond words! I _could_ be beautiful if I had everything; if nothing but +the finest lace ever touched me, if I never raised my hand to do +anything for myself, if I had only dainty and delicate and beautiful +things about me, I should be beautiful--I know I should. Bad women have +those things, they say; why haven't they the best of it?" + +She began to walk on again. She had not given much thought to the +direction her steps were taking; now it came to her that the road to +Lake Betsy, and therefore to Bonham's, was not far away, and she crossed +the wood towards it. When she reached it, she turned towards Bonham's. +Five miles. It was now after five o'clock. + +When she came in sight of the low roof and scattered out-buildings a +sudden realization of what she was doing came to her, and she stopped. +Why was she there? If they should see her, any of them, what would they +think? What could she say? As though they were already upon her, she +took refuge hastily behind the high bushes with which the road was +bordered. "Oh, what have I come here for? Humiliating! Let me get back +home!--let me get back home!" She returned towards Port aux Pins by the +fields, avoiding the road; the shadows were dense now; it was almost +night. + +She had gone more than a mile when she stopped. An irresistible force +impelled her, and she retraced her steps. When she reached Bonham's the +second time, lights were shining from the windows. The roughly-built +house rose directly from the road. Blinds and curtains were evidently +considered superfluous. With breathless eagerness she drew near; the +evening was cool, and the windows were closed; through the small +wrinkled panes she could distinguish a wrinkled Cicely, a wrinkled +judge, a Hollis much askew, and a Paul Tennant with a dislocated jaw; +they were playing a game. After some moments she recognized that it was +whist; she almost laughed aloud, a bitter laugh at herself; she had +walked five miles to see a game of whist. + +A dog barked, she turned away and began her long journey homeward. + +But the thought came to her, and would not leave her. "After the game is +over, and the others have gone to bed, he will see that girl somehow!" + +She did not find the road a long one. Passion made it short, a passion +of jealous despair. + +Reaching the town at last, she passed an ephemeral ice-cream saloon with +a large window; seated within, accompanied by a Port aux Pins youth of +the hobbledehoy species, was Rose Bonham, eating ice-cream. + +The next evening at six the excursion party returned. At seven they were +seated at the tea-table. The little door-bell jangled loudly in the near +hall, there was a sound of voices; Paul, who was nearest the door, rose +and went to see what it was. + +After a long delay he came back and looked in. They had all left the +table, and Cicely had gone to her room; Paul beckoned Eve out silently. +His face had a look that made her heart stop beating; in the narrow +hall, under the small lamp, he gave her, one by one, three telegraphic +despatches, open. + + _The first:_ "_Monday._ + "Break it to Cicely. Dear Ferdie died at dawn. + "SABRINA ABERCROMBIE." + + _The second:_ _"Monday._ + "Morrison died this morning. Telegraph your wishes. + "EDWARD KNOX, M.D." + + _The third:_ "Wednesday._ + + "Morrison buried this afternoon. Address me, Charleston + Hotel, Charleston. + "EDWARD KNOX, M.D." + +"I ought to have had them two days ago," said Paul. He stood with his +lips slightly apart looking at her, but without seeing her or seeing +anything. + + + + +XXII. + + + "Up the airy mountain, + Down the rushy glen, + We daren't go a-hunting, + For fear of little men: + Wee folk, good folk, + Trooping all together; + Green jacket, red cap, + And white owl's feather!" + +So, in a sweet little thread of a voice, sang Cicely; her tones, though +clear, were so faint that they seemed to come from far away. She was +sitting in an easy-chair, with pillows behind her, her hands laid on the +arms of the chair, her feet on a footstool. Her eyes wandered over the +opposite wall, and presently she began again, beating time with her hand +on the arm of the chair: + + "Down along the rocky shore + Some make their home; + They live on crispy pancakes + Of yellow tide foam; + Some in the reeds + Of the black mountain lake, + With frogs for their watch-dogs, + All night awake--awake." + +She laughed. + +The judge left the room. He walked on tiptoe; but he might have worn +hobnailed shoes, and made all the noise possible--Cicely would not have +noticed it. "I can't stand it!" he said to Paul, outside. + +"How it must feel--to be as stiff and old as that!" was the thought +that passed through the younger man's mind. For the judge's features +were no longer able to express the sorrows that lay beneath; even while +speaking his despair his face remained immovable, like a mask. + +"But it's merciful, after all," Paul had answered, aloud. + +"Merciful?" + +"Yes. Come to my room and I'll tell you why." + +Straw was laid down before Paul's cottage. Within, all was absolutely +quiet; even little Jack had been sent away. He had been sent to Hollis, +who was taking care of him so elaborately, with so many ingenious +devices for his entertainment, that Porley was wildly idle; there was +nothing for her to do. + +Standing beside the white-pine table in Paul's bare bedroom, the two men +held their conference. Paul's explanation lasted three minutes. "Ferdie +was entangled with her long before he ever saw Cicely," he concluded, +"and he always liked her; that was her hold upon him--he liked her, and +she knew it; he didn't drop her even after he was married." + +From the rigid old face there came a hot imprecation. + +"Let him alone--will you?--now he's dead," suggested Paul, curtly. "I +don't suppose that you yourself have been so immaculate all your life +that you can afford to set up as a pattern?" + +"But my wife, sir--Nothing ever touched her." + +"You mean that you arranged things so that she shouldn't know. All +decent men do that, I suppose, and Ferdie didn't in the least intend +that Cicely should know, either. He told her to stay here; if she had +persisted in going down there against his wish, and against his +arrangements also, fancy what she would have put her head into! I +couldn't let her do that, of course. But though I told her enough to +give her some clew, she hadn't the least suspicion of the whole truth, +and now she need never know." + +"She won't have time, she's dying," answered the grandfather. + +Cicely's state was alarming. A violent attack of brain-fever had been +followed by the present condition of comparative quiet; she recognized +no one; much of the time she sang to herself gayly. The doctor feared +that the paroxysms would return. They had been terrible to witness; Paul +had held her, and he had exerted all the force of his strong arms to +keep her from injuring herself, her fragile little form had thrown +itself about so wildly, like a bird beating its life out against the +bars of its cage. + +No one in this desolate cottage had time to think of the accumulation of +troubles that had come upon them: the silence, broken only by Cicely's +strange singing, the grief of Paul for his brother, the dumb despair of +the old man, the absence of little Jack, the near presence of Death. But +of the four faces, that of Eve expressed the deepest hopelessness. She +stayed constantly in the room where Cicely was, but she did nothing; +from the first she had not offered to help in any way, and the doctor, +seeing that she was to be of no use, had sent a nurse. On the fourth +day, Paul said: "You must have some sleep, Eve. Go to your room; I will +have you called if she grows worse." + +"No; I must stay here." + +"Why? There is nothing for you to do." + +"You mean that I do nothing. I know it; but I must stay." + +On the seventh evening he spoke again; Cicely's quiet state had now +lasted twenty-four hours. "Lying on a lounge is no good, Eve; to-night +you must go to bed. Otherwise we shall have you breaking down too." + +"Do I look as though I should break down?" + +They had happened to meet in the hall outside of Cicely's door; the +sunset light, coming through a small window, flooded the place with +gold. + +"If you put it in that way, I must say you do not." + +"I knew it. I am very strong." + +"You speak as though you regretted it." + +"I do regret it." She put out her hand to open the door.--"Don't think +that I am trying to be sensational," she pleaded. + +"All I think is that you are an obstinate girl; and one very much in +need of rest, too." + +Her eyes filled, he had spoken as one speaks to a tired child; but she +turned her head so that he should not see her face, and left him, +entering Cicely's room, and closing the door behind her; her manner and +the movement, as he saw them, were distinctly repellent. + +Cicely did not notice her entrance; the nurse, who had some knitting in +her hand in order not to appear too watchful, but who in reality saw the +rise and fall of her patient's every breath, was near. Eve went to the +place where she often sat--a chair partially screened by the projection +of a large wardrobe; she could see only a towel-stand opposite, and the +ingrain carpet, in ugly octagons of red and green, at her feet. The +silence was profound. + +"I am a murderer, it is a murderer who is sitting here. If people only +knew! But it is enough for _me_ to know. + +--"They said he was getting better. Instead of that he is dead,--he is +dead, and I shot him; I lifted the pistol and fired. At the time it +didn't seem wrong. But this is what it means to kill, I suppose;--this +awful agony. + +--"I have never been one of the afraid kind. I wish now that I had been; +then this wouldn't have happened; the baby might have been horribly +hurt, Cicely too; but at least I shouldn't have been a murderer. For if +you kill you _are_ a murderer, no matter whether the person you kill is +good or bad, or what you do it for; you have killed some one, you have +made his life come to a sudden stop, and for that you must take the +responsibility. + +--"Oh, God! it is too dreadful! I cannot bear it. Sometimes, when I have +been unhappy, I have waked and found it was only a dream; couldn't +_this_ be a dream? + +--"I was really going to tell, I was going to tell Cicely. But I thought +I would wait until he was well--as every one said he would be soon--so +that she wouldn't hate me quite so much. If she should die without +coming to her senses, I shouldn't be able to tell her. + +--"Hypocrite! even to myself. In reality I don't want her to come to her +senses; I have sat here for days, afraid to leave her, watching every +moment lest she should begin to talk rationally. For then I should have +to tell her; and she would tell Paul. Oh, I cannot have him know--I +_cannot._" + +Made stupid by her misery, she sat gazing at the floor, her eyes fixed, +her lips slightly apart. + +She was exhausted; for the same thoughts had besieged her ever since she +had read the despatch, "Morrison died this morning,"--an unending +repetition of exactly the same sentences, constantly following each +other, and constantly beginning again; even in sleep they continued, +like a long nightmare, so that she woke weeping. And now without a +moment's respite, while she sat there with her eyes on the carpet, the +involuntary recital began anew: "I am a murderer, it is a murderer who +is sitting here. If people only knew!" + + "They may rail at this life; from the hour I began it + I've found it a life full of kindness and bliss; + And until you can show me some happier planet, + More social, more gay, I'll content me with this," + +chanted Cicely, sweetly. + +"The song of last Christmas at Romney," Eve's thoughts went on. "Oh, how +changed I am since then--how changed! That night I thought only of my +brother. Now I have almost forgotten him;--Jack, do you care? All I +think of is Paul, Paul, Paul. How beautiful it was in that gray-green +wood! But what am I dreaming about? How can the person who killed his +brother be anything to him? + +--"Once he said--he told me himself--'I care for Ferdie more than for +anything in the world.' It's Ferdie I have killed. + +--"'Morrison buried this afternoon. Address me Charleston Hotel, +Charleston.' He put those despatches in his pocket and went into the +back room. He sat down by the table, and laid his head upon his arms. +His shoulders shook, I know he was crying, he was crying for his +brother. Oh, I will go down-stairs and tell him the whole; I will go +this moment." She rose. + +On the stairs she met the judge. "Is she worse?" he asked, alarmed at +seeing her outside of the room. + +"No; the same." + +She found Paul in the lower hall. "Is she worse?" he said. + +"No. How constantly you think of her!" + +"Of course." + +"Can I speak to you for a moment?" She led the way to the small back +room where he had sat with his head on his arms. "I want to tell you--" +she began. Then she stopped. + +His face had a worn look, his eyes were dull--a dullness caused by +sorrow and the pressure of care. But to her, as he stood there, he was +supreme, her whole heart went out to him. "How I love him!" The feeling +swept over her like a flood, overwhelming everything else. + +"What is it you wish to tell me?" Paul asked, seeing that she still +remained silent. + +"How can I do it!--how can I do it!" she said to herself. + +"Don't tell me, then, if it troubles you," he added, his voice taking +the kindly tones she dreaded. + +Her courage vanished. "Another time," she said hurriedly, and, turning, +she left the room. + +But as she went up the stairs she knew that there would be no other +time. "Never! never! I shall never tell him. What do I care for +truthfulness, or courage, compared with one word of his spoken in that +tone!" + + + + +XXIII. + + +MISS SABRINA'S first letters had been so full of grief that they had +been vague; to her there had been but the one fact: Ferdie was dead. + +She had become much attached to him. There was nothing strange in this; +both as boy and as man, Ferdinand Morrison had been deeply loved by +many. The poor woman knew his fault (she thought it his only one), for +the judge had written an account of all that had happened, and the +reasons for Cicely's flight. Nevertheless she loved this prodigal as the +prodigal is often so dearly loved by the woman whose heart is pierced +the most deeply by his excesses--his mother. And Miss Sabrina, as +regarded her devotion, might indeed have been Ferdie's mother; something +in him roused the dormant maternal feeling--the maternal passion--which +existed in her heart unknown to herself. She did not comprehend what it +was that was disturbing her so much, and yet at the same time making her +so happy--she did not comprehend that it was stifled nature asserting +itself at this late day; the circumstances of her life had made her a +gentle, conciliatory old maid; she was not in the least aware that as a +mother she could have been a tigress in the defence of her sons. For she +was a woman who would have rejoiced in her sons; daughters would never +have been important to her. + +She thought that she was perfectly reasonable about Ferdie. No, Cicely +must not come back to him for the present; baby too--darling little +boy!--he must be kept away; and oh! how terrible that flight through the +woods, and the escape in the boat; she thought of it every night with +tremors. Yet, in spite of all, she loved the man who had caused these +griefs. His illness made him dependent upon her, and his voice calling +her name in peremptory tones, like those of a spoiled child--this was +the sweetest sound her ears had ever heard. He would reform, all her +hopes and plans were based upon that; she went about with prayer on her +lips from morning till night--prayer for him. + +When his last breath had been drawn, it seemed to her as if the daily +life of the world must have stopped too, outside of the darkened +chamber; as if people could not go on eating and drinking, and the sun +go on shining, with Ferdie dead. She was able to keep her place at the +head of the household until after the funeral; then she became the prey +of an illness which, though quiet and unobtrusive, like everything else +connected with her, was yet sufficiently persistent to confine her to +her bed. Nanny Singleton, who had come to Romney every day, rowed by +Boliver, now came again, this time to stay; she took possession of the +melancholy house, re-established order after her inexact fashion, and +then devoted herself to nursing her friend. + +Two of Nanny Singleton's letters. + +Letter number one: + + + "ROMNEY, _Friday evening._ + + "DEAR JUDGE,--I feel that we have been very remiss in + not sending to you sooner the details of this heart-breaking + event. But we have been so afflicted ourselves with the unexpectedness + of it all, with the funeral, and with dear Sabrina's + illness, that we have been somewhat negligent. We feel, + Rupert and I, that we have lost not only one who was personally + dear to us, but also the most fascinating, the most brilliant, + the most thoroughly engaging young man whom it has + ever been our good-fortune to meet. Such a death is a public + calamity, and you, his nearest and dearest, must admit us + (as well as many, many others) to that circle of mourning + friends who esteemed him highly, admired him inexpressibly, + and loved him sincerely for the unusually charming qualities + he possessed. + + "Our dearest Sabrina told us all the particulars the morning + after his death, for of course we came directly to her as + soon as we heard what had happened. He had been making, + as you probably know, a visit in Savannah; Dr. Knox had + accompanied him, or perhaps it was that he joined him there; + at any rate, it was Dr. Knox who brought him home. It + seems that he had overestimated his strength--so natural in + a young man!--and he arrived much exhausted; so much so, + indeed, that the doctor thought it better that dear Sabrina + should not see him that evening. And the next day she only + saw him once, and from across the room; he was alarmingly + pale, and did not open his eyes; Dr. Knox said that he must + not try to speak. It was the next morning at dawn that the + doctor came to her door and told Powlyne to waken her. + (But she was not asleep.) 'He is going, if you wish to come;' + this was all he said. Dear Sabrina, greatly agitated, threw + on her wrapper over her night-dress, and hastened to the bedside + of the dear boy. He lay in a stupor, he did not know + her; and in less than half an hour his breath ceased. She + prayed for him during the interval, she knelt down and prayed + aloud; it was a wonder that she had the strength to do it + when a soul so dear to her was passing. When it had taken + flight, she closed his eyes, and made all orderly about him. + And she kissed him for Cicely, she told me. + + "The funeral she arranged herself in every detail. Receiving + no replies to her despatches to you, she was obliged + to use her own judgment; she had confessed to me in the beginning + that she much wished to have him buried here at + Romney, in the little circle of her loved ones, and not hearing + from you to the contrary, she decided to do this; he lies beside + your brother Marmaduke. Our friends came from all + the islands near and far; there must have been sixty persons + in all, many bringing flowers. Dr. Knox stayed with us until + after the funeral--that is, until day before yesterday; then + he took his leave of us, and went to Charleston by the evening + boat. He seems a most excellent young man. And if he + strikes us as a little cold, no doubt it is simply that, being a + Northerner, and not a man of much cultivation, he could not + appreciate fully Ferdie's very remarkable qualities. Dear old + Dr. Daniels, who has been in Virginia for several weeks, has + now returned; he comes over every day to see Sabrina. He + tells me that her malady is intermittent fever--a mild form; + the only point is to keep her strength up, and this we endeavor + to do with chickens. I will remain here as long as I + can be of the slightest service, and you may rest assured that + everything possible is being done. + + "I trust darling Cicely is not burdened by the many letters + we have written to her--my own four, and Rupert's three, + as well as those of her other friends on the islands about here. + All wished to write, and we did not know how to say no. + + "With love to Miss Bruce, I am, dear judge, your attached + and sorrowing friend, NANNY SINGLETON." + +Letter number two: + + "ROMNEY, _Saturday Morning._ + + "MY DEAR MR. TENNANT,--My husband has just received + your letter, and as he is much crippled by his rheumatism this + morning, he desires me to answer it immediately, so that there + may be no delay. + + "We both supposed that Dr. Knox had written to you. + Probably while he was here there were so many things to + take up his time that he could not; and I happen to know + that as soon as he reached Charleston, day before yesterday, + he was met by this unexpected proposition to join a private + yacht for a cruise of several months; one of the conditions + was that he was to go on board immediately (they sailed the + same evening), and I dare say he had time for nothing but + his own preparations, and that you will hear from him later. + My husband says, however, that he can give you all the details + of the case, which was a simple one. Your brother overestimated + his strength, he should not have attempted that + journey to Savannah; it was too soon, for his wound had + not healed, and the fatigue brought on a dangerous relapse, + from which he could not rally. He died from the effects of + that cruel shot, Mr. Tennant; his valuable life has fallen a + sacrifice (in my husband's opinion) to the present miserable + condition of our poor State, where the blacks, our servants, + who are like little children and need to be led as such,--where + these poor ignorant creatures are put over us, their former + masters; are rewarded with office; are intrusted with dangerous + weapons--a liberty which in this case has proved fatal + to one of the higher race. It seems to my husband as if the + death of Ferdinand Morrison should be held up as a marked + warning to the entire North; this very superior, talented, and + engaging young man has fallen by the bullet of a negro, and + my husband says that in his opinion the tale should be told + everywhere, on the steps of court-houses and in churches, and + the question should be solemnly asked, Shall such things continue? + --shall + the servant rule his lord? + + "We are much alarmed by the few words in Judge Abercrombie's + letter (received this morning) concerning our darling + Cicely, and we beg you to send us a line daily. Or perhaps + Miss Bruce would do it, knowing our anxiety? I pray that + the dear child, whom we all so fondly love, may be better very + soon; but I will be anxious until I hear. + + "As I sent a long letter to the judge last evening, I will + not add more to this. Our sympathy, dear Mr. Tennant, + with your irreparable loss is heartfelt; you do not need our + assurances of that, I know. + + "Mr. Singleton desires me to present his respects. And I + beg to remain your obedient servant, N. SINGLETON." + + + + +XXIV. + + +Midsummer at Port aux Pins. The day was very hot; there was no feeling +of dampness, such as belongs sometimes to the lower-lake towns in the +dog-days, up here the air remained dry and clear and pure; but the +splendid sunshine had almost the temperature of flame; it seemed as if +the miles of forest must take fire, as from a burning-glass. + +Eve stood at the open window of Paul's little parlor. A figure passed in +the road outside, but she did not notice it. Reappearing, it opened the +gate and came in. "Many happy returns--of cooler weather! We ought to +pity the Eyetalians; what must their sufferings be on such a day as +this!" + +Eve gazed at the speaker unseeingly. Then recognition arrived;--"Oh, Mr. +Hollis." + +Hollis came into the house; he joined her in the parlor. "My best +respects. Can't help thinking of the miserable Eyetalians." Eve made no +reply. "Just heard a piece of news," Hollis went on. "Paul has sold his +Clay County iron. He would have made five times as much by holding on. +But he has been so jammed lately by unexpected demands made upon him +that he had no other course; all his brother's South American +speculations have come to grief, and the creditors have come down on +_him_ like a thousand of brick!" + +"Will he have to pay much?" asked Eve, her lassitude gone. + +"More than he's got," answered Hollis, putting his hands still more +deeply into his trousers pockets, his long, lean, fish-like figure +projecting itself forward into space from the sixth rib. "I don't get +this from Paul, you may depend; _he_ don't blab. But the law sharks who +came up here to get hold of whatever they could (for you see Paul has +always been a partner in his brother's enterprises, so that gives 'em a +chance), these scamps talked to me some. So I know. But even the sale of +his Clay County iron won't clear Paul--he will have to guarantee other +debts; it will take him years to clear it all off, unless he has +something better than his present salary to do it with." + +"You ought to have told me. I have money." + +"I guess he wouldn't take it. He's had pretty hard lines all round; he +wanted terribly bad to go straight to Ferdie, as soon as he heard he was +shot. But Mrs. Morrison--she had come here, you know; and he had all +Ferdie's expenses to think of too, so that kept him grinding along. But +he wanted awfully to go; he thought the world and all of Ferdie." + +"I know he did," said Eve. And now her face was like a tragic +mask--deadly white, with a frown, the eyes under her straight brows +looking at him fixedly. + +"Oh, eheu!" thought Hollis distressfully, disgustedly. "You screw +yourself up to tell her all these things about him, because you think it +will please her; and _this_ is the way she takes 'em!" + +He looked at her again; she gave no sign. Feeling painfully +insignificant and helpless, he turned and left the room. + +A few minutes later Paul came in. "You have sold your Clay County iron!" +said Eve. + +"I have always intended to sell it." + +"Not at a sacrifice." + +"One does as one can--a business transaction." + +"How much money have you sent to your brother all these years?" + +"I don't know that it is--I don't know what interest you can have in +it," Paul answered. + +"You mean that it is not my business. Oh, don't be so hard! Say three +words just for once." + +"Why, I'll say as many as you like, Eve. Ferdie was one of the most +brilliant fellows in the world; if he had lived, all his investments +would have turned out finely, he was sure of a fortune some time." + +"And, in the meanwhile, you supported him; you have always done it." + +"You are mistaken. I advanced him money now and then when he happened to +be short, but it was always for the time being only; he would have paid +me back if he had lived." + +The door opened, and the judge came in. "I'm glad you're here," said +Paul; "now we can decide, we three, upon what is best to be done. The +doctor says that while this heat is very bad for Cicely, travel would be +still worse; she cannot go anywhere by train, and hardly by +steamer--though that is better; there would be no use, then, in trying +to take her south." + +"It's ten times hotter here to-day than I ever saw it at Romney," +interposed the judge. "It's a tophet--this town of yours!" + +"I was thinking also of Miss Abercrombie's illness," Paul went on. +"Though her fever is light, her room is still a sick-room, and that +would depress Cicely, I feel sure. But, meanwhile, the poor girl is +hourly growing weaker, and so this is what I have thought of: we will go +into camp in the pines near Jupiter Light. Don't you remember how much +good camp-life did her before?" + +Six days later they were living in the pine woods at Jupiter. This time +lodges had been built; the nurse accompanied Cicely; they were a party +of eight, without counting the cook and the Indians. + +At first Cicely remained in much the same state, she recognized no one +but Jack. + +Jack continued to be his mother's most constant adorer; he climbed often +into her lap, and, putting his arms round her neck, "loved" her with his +cheek against hers, and with all his little heart; he came trotting up +many times a day, to stroke her face with his dimpled hand. Cicely +looked at him, but did not answer. After ten days in the beneficent +forest, however, her strength began to revive, and their immediate fears +were calmed. One evening she asked for her grandfather, and when he came +hastily in and bent over her couch, she smiled and kissed him. He sat +down beside her, holding her hand; after a while she fell into a sleep. +The old man went softly out, he went to the camp-fire, and made it +blaze, throwing on fresh pine-cones recklessly. + +"Sixty-five in the shade," remarked Hollis. + +"This Northern air is always abominable. Will you make me a taste of +something spicy? I feel the need of it. Miss Bruce,--Eve--Cicely knows +me!" + +Eve looked at his brightened face, at the blazing fire, the rough table +with the tumblers, the flask, and the lemons. Hollis had gone to the +kitchen to get hot water. + +"She knows me," repeated the judge, triumphantly. "She sent for me +herself." + +Paul now appeared, and the good news was again told. Paul had just come +from Port aux Pins. After establishing them at Jupiter, he had been +obliged to return to town immediately, and he had remained there closely +occupied for more than a week. He sat down, refusing Hollis's proffered +glass. The nurse came out, and walked to and fro before Cicely's lodge, +breathing the aromatic air; this meant that Cicely still slept. Eve had +seated herself a little apart from the fire; her figure was in the +shadow. Her mind was filled with but one thought: "Cicely better? Then +must I tell her?" By-and-by the conversation of the others came to her. + +"Hanging is too good for them," said the judge. + +"But wasn't it supposed to be a chance shot?" remarked Hollis. "Not +intentional, exactly?" + +"That makes no difference. You may call it absolute chance, if you like; +but the negro who dares to lift a pistol against a white man should not +be left alive five minutes afterwards," declared the old planter, +implacably. + +"You'd ought to have lived in the days of religious wars," drawled +Hollis. "I don't know anything else carnivorous enough to suit you." + +"You must be a Quaker, sir! Tennant feels as I do, he'd shoot at sight." + +"Oh no, he wouldn't," said Hollis. "He ain't a Southerner." + +"Tennant can speak for himself," said the judge, confidently. + +"I'd shoot the man who shot my brother," answered Paul. "I'd go down +there to-morrow--I should have gone long ago--if I thought there was the +least chance of finding him." A dark flush rose in his face. "I'm +afraid--even if it was an unintentional shot--that I should want to +_kill_ that man just the same; I should be a regular savage!" + +"Would you never forgive him?" asked Eve's voice from the shadow. + +"Blood for blood!" responded Paul, hotly. "No, not unless I killed him; +then I might." + +Eve rose. + +Paul got up. "Oh, are you going?" But she did not hear him; she had gone +to her lodge. He sat down again. She did not reappear that night. + +The next morning she went off for a solitary walk. By chance her steps +took the direction of a small promontory that jutted sharply into the +lake, its perpendicular face rising to a height of forty feet from the +deep water below; she had been here several times before, and knew the +place well; it was about a mile from the camp. As she sat there, Paul's +figure appeared through the trees. He came straight to her. "I have been +looking for you, I tried to find you last night." He paused a moment. +"Eve, don't you see what I've come for? Right in the midst of all this +grief and trouble I've found out something. It's just this, Eve: I love +you." + +She tried to rise, but he put his hand on her shoulder to keep her where +she was. "Oh, but I do, you needn't doubt it," he went on, with an +amused smile--amused at himself; "in some way or other the thing has +come about, I may say, in spite of me. I never thought it would. But +here 'tis--with a vengeance! I think of you constantly, I can't help +thinking of you; I recognize, at last, that the thing is unchangeable, +that it's for life; have you I must." The words were despotic, but the +tone was entreating; and the eyes, looking down upon her, were +caressing--imploring. "Yes, I'm as helpless as any one," Paul went on, +smiling as he said it; "I can't sleep, even. Come, take me; I'm not such +a bad fellow, after all--I really think I'm not. And as regards my +feeling for you, you need not be troubled; it's strong enough!" + +She quailed under his ardor. + +"I haven't spoken before because there has been so much to do," Paul +continued; "there has been Cicely, and then I've been harassed about +business; I've been in a box, and trying to get out. Besides, I wasn't +perfectly sure that my time had come." He laughed. "I'm sure now." He +took her in his arms. "Don't let us make any delays, Eve; we're not so +young, either of us. Not that you need be afraid that you're to be the +less happy on that account; I'll see to that!" + +She broke from him. + +But again he came to her, he took her hands, and, kneeling, laid his +forehead upon them. "I will be as humble as you like; only--be good to +me. I long for it, I must have it." + +A sob rose in her throat. He sprang up. "Don't do that! Why, I want to +make you absolutely happy, if I can. We shall have troubles enough, and +perhaps we shall have sorrows, but at least we shall be together; you +must never leave me, and I will do all I can to be less rough. But on +your side there's one thing, Eve: you _must_ love me." These last words +were murmured in her ear. + +She drew herself away from him. The expression of her face was almost +like death. + +"You look as though you were afraid of me! I thought you loved me, Eve?" + +"I do." + +"Pretend you are a man, then, long enough to say 'yes' without any more +circumlocution. We will be married at Port aux Pins. Then we can take +care of Cicely together." + +"I shall never marry." + +"Yes, you will." + +"I do not wish to leave Cicely." + +"She wouldn't care about that. She isn't even fond of you." + +"Oh, what shall I say to you?" cried Eve, her hands dropping by her +sides. "Listen: it will be absolutely impossible for you to change my +determination. But I am so horribly unhappy that I do believe I cannot +stand anything more--any more contests with you. Leave me to myself; say +nothing to me. But don't drive me away; at least let me stay near you." + +"In my arms, Eve." + +"Let me stay near you; see you; hear you talk; but that is all." + +"And how long do you suppose that could last? It's a regular woman's +idea: nonsense." + +"Paul, be merciful!" + +"Merciful? Oh, yes!" He took her again in his arms. + +"I swear to you that I cannot marry you," she said, trembling as his +cheek touched hers. "Since I've known you I haven't wanted to die, I've +wanted to live--live a long life. But now I _do_ want to die; there is a +barrier between us, I cannot lift it." + +He released her. "There could be but one.--I believe that you are +truthful; is the barrier another man?" + +Another man? She hesitated a moment. "Yes." + +He looked at her. "I don't believe you! You are lying for some purpose +of your own. See here, Eve, I don't want to be played with in this way; +you love me, and I worship you; by this time next week you are to be my +wife." + +"I must go away from you, then? You won't help me? Where can I go!" She +left him; she walked slowly towards the lake, her head bowed. + +He followed her. He had paid no attention to what she was saying; +"feminine complications"--this was all he thought. He was very masterful +with women. + +As he came up she turned her head and looked at him. And, by a sort of +inspiration, he divined that the look was a farewell. He caught her, and +none too soon, for, as he touched her, he felt the impulse, the first +forward movement of the spring which would have taken her over the edge, +down to the deep water below. + +Carrying her in his arms, close against his breast, he hastened away +from the edge; he went inland for a long distance. Then he stopped, +releasing her. He was extremely pale. + +"I believe you now," he said. "All shall be as you like--just as you +like; I will do anything you wish me to do." He seemed to be still +afraid, he watched her anxiously. + +She came and put her hands on his shoulders; she lifted her head and +kissed his cheek. It was like the kiss one gives in the chamber of +death. + +He did not move, he was holding himself in strict control. But he felt +the misery of her greeting so acutely that moisture rose in his eyes. + +She saw it. "Don't be troubled about me," she said. "I didn't want to +die--really, I didn't want to at all. It was only because just at that +moment I could not bear it to have you keep asking me when it was +impossible,--I felt that I must go away; and apart from you, and Cicely +and baby, there seemed no place in the world for me! But now--now I +_want_ to live. Perhaps we shall both live long lives." + +"I'm not a woman, you know," said Paul, with a faint smile. "Women do +with make-believes; men can't." + +She had left him. "Go now," she said. + +He turned to obey. Then he came back. "Eve, can't you tell me your real +reason?" + +But her face changed so quickly to its old look of agony that he felt a +pang of regret that he had spoken. "I will never ask you again," he +said. + +This was the offering he made her--a great one for Paul Tennant. He went +away. + +An hour later she came back to the camp. + +"Paul has gone to Potterpins," said Hollis, who was sitting by the fire. +"Told me to give you this." He handed her a note. + +It contained but two lines: "I shall come back next week. But send a +note by mail; I want to know if you are contented with me." + +Eve wrote but one word--"Yes." + + + + +XXV. + + +PAUL remained away for ten days; not by his own wish, but detained by +business. + +During his absence Hollis's services were in demand. Cicely was now able +to go out on the lake, and he took her for an hour or two every morning +in one of the larger canoes; the nurse and Cicely sat at the bow, then +came Porley and Jack, then Eve, then Hollis. Cicely still did not talk, +she had not again asked for her grandfather; but she looked at the water +and the woods on the shore, and her face showed occasionally some +slight childish interest in what was passing. Eve, too, scarcely spoke; +but it was pleasure enough for poor Hollis to be opposite to her, where +he could see her without appearing to gaze too steadily. He had always +admired her; he had admired her voice, her reticent, independent way; he +had admired her tall, slender figure, with the broad sweep of the +shoulders, the erect carriage, and lithe, strong step. He had never +thought her too cold, too pale; but now in the increased life and color +which had come to her she seemed to him a daughter of the gods--the +strong Northern gods with flaxen hair; the flush in her cheeks made her +eyes bluer and her hair more golden; the curve of her lips, a curve +which had once been almost sullen, was now strangely sweet. Her love had +made her beautiful; her love, too, made her kind to Hollis;--women are +often unconsciously cruel in this way. The poor auctioneer lived in a +fool's paradise and forgot all his cautions; day-dreams began to visit +him, he was a boy again. + +On the eleventh day Paul returned. + +Hollis happened to see him meet Eve. Outwardly it was simply that they +shook hands, and stood for a moment exchanging an unimportant question +or two; or rather Paul asked, and Eve answered; but Paul's tone was not +what it once had been, his eyes, looking at Eve, were different. It was +one thing to know that she loved Paul, Hollis was used to that; it was +another to know that Paul loved her. He watched through the day, with +all the acuteness of jealousy, discovering nothing. But that evening, +when Eve had said good-night and started towards her lodge, Paul rose +and followed her. + +"I guess I'll go down to the lake for a moment or two," Hollis said to +the judge, who was sitting by the fire. He walked away in the direction +of the lake; then, doubling upon his track, he returned, avoiding the +fire and going towards the row of lodges. Presently he saw two dusky +figures, a man and a woman; they stood there for a moment; then the man +bent his head and touched with his lips the woman's wrist. It was but +for a second; they separated, she going towards her lodge, and he +returning to the fire. The watcher in the wood stole noiselessly down to +the beach and got out a canoe; then he went off and woke an Indian. +Presently the two were paddling westward over the dark lake. They caught +the steamer. Hollis reached Port aux Pins the following evening. + +From the boat he went to a restaurant and ordered dinner; he called it +"dinner" to make it appear more fine. He ordered the best that the +establishment could offer. He complained because there were no +anchovies. He said to the waiter: "_This_ patty de fograr?--You must be +sick! Take away these off-color peaches and bring me something first +class. Bring lick-koors, too; can you catch on to that?" He drank a +great deal of wine, finishing with champagne; then he lit a cigar and +sauntered out. + +He went to a beer-garden. The place was brightly lighted; dusty +evergreens planted in tubs made foliage; little tables were standing in +the sand; there was a stage upon which four men, in Tyrolese costume, +were singing, "O Strassburg, du wunderschöne Stadt!" very well, +accompanied by a small orchestra. + +"Hello, Katty, wie geht's?" said Hollis to a girl who was passing with a +tray of empty beer-glasses. She stopped. "Want some ice-cream, Katty?" + +"Oh, come now, Mr. Hollis, you know there's no ice-cream here." + +"Did I say here? Outside, of course. Come along." + +Katty went, nothing loath. + +She was a girl of sixteen, with bright eyes, thick braids of brown hair, +and a sweet voice; the fairness of extreme youth gave her a fictitious +innocence. He took her to the ephemeral saloon, and sat looking at her +while she devoured two large slabs of a violently pink tint; her +preposterous Gainsborough hat, with its imitation plumes, she had taken +off, and the flaring gas-light shone on her pretty face. + +"Now shall we have a walk, Katty?" + +They strolled through the streets for half an hour. He took her into a +jeweller's shop, and bought her a German-silver dog-collar which she had +admired in the window; she wanted it to clasp round her throat: "Close +up, you know, under the chin; it's so cute that way." She was profuse in +her thanks; of her own accord, when they came out, she took his arm. + +He fell into silence. They passed his rooms; Katty looked up. "All +dark," she said. + +"Yes. I guess I'll take you back now, Katty; do you want to go home, or +to the garden again?" + +"I ain't accustomed to going to bed at this early hour, Mr. Hollis, +whatever you may be. I'll go back to the gardens, please." + +When they reached the entrance, he put his hand in his pocket and drew +something out. "There, Katty, take that and buy more dog-collars. +Money's all an old fellow like me is good for." + +"Oh, Mr. Hollis,--when I like you better than many that's young." + +"Thank you, Katty. Good-night." + +He went, as he would have called it, "home." On the way he passed his +office; a vague impulse made him unlock the door, and look in, by the +light of a match. The skeleton was there, and the bonnets in their +bandboxes. "I must try to work 'em off before winter," he thought; "they +are really elegant." He locked the door again, and, going a little +farther down the street, he entered an open hallway, and began to climb +a long flight of stairs. On the second floor he inserted his key in a +door, and, opening, entered; he was at home. The air was close and hot, +and he threw up the windows; leaving the candle in the outer room, he +went and sat down in his parlor, crossing his legs, and trying to lean +back; every chair in the room was in its very nature and shape +uncomfortable. Sitting there, his life in retrospect passed slowly +before him, like a picture unrolling itself on the dark wall; he saw all +the squalid poverty of it, all its disappointments, its deprivations. +"From first to last it's been a poor affair; I wonder how I've stood +it!" The dawn came into the room, he did not move; he sat there with his +hat on until the little bell of the Baptist church near by began to ring +for Sabbath-school. He listened to the sound for a while, it was +persistent; finally he got up; his legs felt stiff, he brushed some dust +from his trousers with the palm of his hand; then he went out. + +He went down to the street, and thence to the Baptist church. The door +stood open, and he went in; the children were already in their places, +and the organ was sounding forth a lively tune; presently the young +voices began all together in a chorus, + + "The voice of free grace cries escape to the mount-_ins_--" + +His mother used to sing that song, he remembered. She often sang it over +her work, and she was always at work--yes, to the very day of her death; +she was a patient, silent creature. + +"I don't know that I'd oughter have less pluck than she had," thought +her son. + +"Brother, will you have a book?" whispered a little man in a duster, +proffering one from behind. + +Hollis took it, and followed the words as the children sang them to the +end. When the prayer began, he laid the book down carefully on the seat, +and went out on tiptoe. He went down to the pier; the westward bound +boat had just come in; he went on board. + +"Business," he explained to the judge, when he reached the camp. "Had to +go." + +"Sold the skeleton, perhaps?" + +"Well, I've laid one!" responded Hollis, grimly. + +The judge was in gay spirits, Cicely had been talking to him; it had +been about Jack, and she had said nothing of importance; but the +sentences had been rational, connected. + +Several days passed, and the improvement continued; consciousness had +returned to her eyes, they all felt hopeful. They had strolled down to +the beach one evening to see the sunset, and watch the first flash of +Jupiter Light out on its reef. Eve was with Hollis; she selected him +each day as her companion, asking him in so many words to accompany her; +Hollis went, showering out jokes and puns. Now and then he varied his +efforts at entertainment by legends of what he called "old times on the +frontier." They always began: "My father lived on a flat-boat. He was a +bold and adventurous character." In reality, his father was a teacher of +singing, who earned his living (sometimes) by getting up among +school-children, who co-operated without pay, a fairy operetta called +_The Queen of the Flowers_; he was an amiable man with a mild tenor +voice; he finally became a colporteur for the Methodist Book Concern. +To-day Hollis was talking about the flat-boat--maundering on, as he +would himself have called it; Paul and the judge strolled to and fro. +The water came up smoothly in long, low swells, whose edge broke at +their feet with a little sound like "whisssh," followed by a retreating +gurgle. + +"Paul Tennant, are you there?" asked a voice. + +Startled, they turned. On the bank above the beach, and therefore just +above their heads (the bank was eight feet high), stood Cicely. + +"It is you I want, Paul Tennant. Everything has come back to me; I know +now that Ferdie is dead. You would not let me go to him; probably he +thought that it was because I did not want to go. This I owe to you, and +I curse you for it. I curse you, Paul Tennant, I curse your days and +nights; all the things and people you like, all your hopes and plans. If +you trust any one, I hope that person will betray you; if you love any +one, I hope that person will hate you; if you should have any children, +I hope they will be disobedient, and, whatever they may be to others, +undutiful to you." + +"Cicely, stop!" cried Eve. "Will no one stop her?" + +"God, curse Paul Tennant. He has been so cruel!" She was now kneeling +down, her arms held up to heaven in appeal. + +The judge looked waxily pallid; Hollis did not move; Paul, much less +disturbed than any one, was already climbing the bank. It was +perpendicular, and there was neither footing nor hold, but after one or +two efforts he succeeded. When he reached the top, however, Cicely was +gone. He went to her lodge; here he found her sitting quietly beside +Jack's bed; she was alone, neither the nurse nor Porley was with her. +Before he could speak, Eve appeared, breathless. + +"Where is the nurse, Cicely?" Paul asked, in his usual tone. + +"Do you mean that woman whom you have put over me? She has gone for a +walk." + +"And Porley?" + +"You will find Porley at the big pine." + +"What is she doing there?" + +"I didn't want her about, so I tied her to the trunk," Cicely answered. +"Probably she is frightened," she added, calmly. + +"Go and find her," said Eve to Paul. "I will stay here." + +"Have nothing to do with Paul Tennant, Eve," Cicely remarked. "He is +almost a murderer. He didn't go to his brother; he let him die alone." + +"I shall not leave you," said Paul, looking at Eve's white cheeks. + +"Have you fallen in love with each other?" asked Cicely. "It needed only +that." + +"I beg you to go," Eve entreated. + +Paul hesitated. "Will you promise not to leave this lodge until I come +back?" + +"Yes." + +Paul went out. As he did so, he saw the judge approaching, leaning +heavily on Hollis's arm. + +"It's nothing," Hollis explained. "The judge, he's only tuckered out; a +night's rest is all he needs." + +"Take me to Cicely," the judge commanded. + +"Cicely ought to be quiet now," Paul answered in a decided voice. "Eve +is with her, and they're all right; women do better alone together, you +know, when one of them has hysteria." + +"Hysteria! Is that what you called it?" said the judge. + +"Of course. And it's natural," Paul went on:--"poor little girl, coming +to herself suddenly here in the woods, only to realize that her husband +is dead. We shall have to be doubly tender with her, now that she is +beginning to be herself again." + +"You didn't mind it, then?" pursued the judge. He was relieved, of +course--glad. Still it began to seem almost an impertinence that Paul +should have paid so little attention to what had been to the rest of +them so terrible. + +"Mind? Do you mean what she was saying? I didn't half hear it, I was +thinking how I could get up that bank. And that reminds me there's +something wrong with Porley; she's at the big pine. I am going out there +to see. Cicely told me that she had tied her in some way." + +"If she did, the wench richly deserved it," said the judge, going +towards his lodge, his step stiff and slow. + +"He came mighty near a stroke," said Hollis to Paul in an undertone. + +"Hadn't you better go with him, then?" + +"Oh yes; I'll go." He went towards the judge's lodge. "You go right +into that lodge, fool Hollis, and stay there,--stay with that +unreasonable, vituperative, cantankerous old Bourbon of a judge, +and--judge of Bourbon! You smooth him down, and you hearten him up, you +agree with him every time; you tuck him in, you hang his old clothes +over a chair, you take his shoes out, and black 'em; and you conduct +yourself generally like one of his own nigs in the glorious old days of +slavery--Maryland, my Maryland!" He lifted the latch of the door, and +went in. + +Paul, meanwhile, had gone to the big pine; when he reached it, the +twilight had darkened into night. A crouching figure stood close to the +trunk--Porley; she was tied by a small rope to the tree, the firm +ligatures encircling her in three places--at the throat, the waist, and +the ankles; in addition, her hands were tied behind her. + +"Well, Porley, a good joke, isn't it?" Paul said, as he cut the knots of +the rope with his knife. + +"Ah-_hoo!_" sobbed the girl, her fright breaking into audible expression +now that aid was near. + +"Mrs. Morrison thought she would see how brave you were." + +"Ah-hoo! Ah-hoo-hoo-_hoo!_" roared Porley, in a paroxysm of frantic +weeping. + +"If you are so frightened as that, what did you let her do it for? You +are five times as strong as she is." + +"I coulden tech her, marse--I coulden! Says she, 'A-follerin' an' +spyin', Porley? Take dat rope an' come wid me.' So I come. She's cunjud +me, marse; I is done fer." + +"Nonsense! Where's the nurse?" + +"I doan know--I doan know. Says she, 'We'll take a walk, Miss Mile.' An' +off dey went, 'way ober dat way. Reckon Miss Mile's dead!" + +"No more dead than you are. Go back to the camp and un-cunjer yourself; +there's a dollar to help it along." + +He went off in the direction she had indicated. After a while he began +to call at intervals; there was a distant answer, and he called again. +And then gradually, nearer and nearer, came the self-respecting voice of +Mary Ann Mile. Each time he shouted, "Hello there!" her answer was, +"Yes, sir; present-lée," in a very well-educated tone. + +"What is this, Mrs. Mile?" + +"You may well ask, sir. Such an incident has never happened to me +before. Mrs. Morrison remarked that she should enjoy a walk, and I +therefore went with her; after we had proceeded some distance, suddenly +she darted off. I followed her, and kept her in sight for a while, or +rather she kept me in sight; then she disappeared, and I perceived not +only that I had lost her, but that I myself was lost. It is a curious +thing, sir,--the cleverness of people whose minds are disordered!" + +"Her mind is no longer disordered, Mrs. Mile; she has got back her +senses." + +"Do you consider this an instance of it?" asked the nurse, doubtfully. + +When Paul left Cicely's lodge, Eve closed the door. "Cicely, I have +something to tell you. Listen." + +"It is a pity you like that man--that Paul Tennant," Cicely answered. + +"If I do like him, I can never be anything to him. This is what I +wanted to tell you: that I shot his brother." + +"Well, if his brother was like _him_--" + +"Oh, Cicely, it was Ferdie--your Ferdie." + +"What do you know about Ferdie?" demanded Cicely, coldly. "He never +liked you in the least." + +"Don't you know, Cicely, that Ferdie is dead?" + +"Oh, yes, I know it. Paul would not let me go to him, and he died all +alone." + +"And do you know what was the cause of his death?" + +"Yes; he was shot; there were some negroes, they got away in a boat." + +"No, there were no negroes; I shot him. I took a pistol on purpose." + +"It seems to be very hard work for you to tell me this, you are crying +dreadfully," remarked Cicely, looking at her. "Why do you tell?" + +"Because I am the one you must curse. Not Paul." + +"It's all for Paul, then." + +"But it was for you in the first place, Cicely. Don't you remember that +we escaped?--that we went through the wood to the north point?--that you +tried to push the boat off, and couldn't? Baby climbed up by one of the +seats, and Ferdie saw him, and made a dash after him; then it was that I +fired. I did it, Cicely. Nobody else." + +"Oh," said Cicely, slowly, "you did it, did you?" She rose. "And Paul +kept me from going to him! It was all you two." She went to the crib, +and lifted Jack from his nest. He stirred drowsily; then fell asleep +again. (Poor little Jack, what journeys!) + +"Open that door; and go," Cicely commanded. + +Eve hesitated a moment. Then she obeyed. + +Cicely wrapped a shawl about Jack, and laid him down; she set to work +and made two packets of clothing--one for herself, and one for the +child--slinging them upon her arm; she put on her straw hat, took Jack, +and went out, closing the door behind her. Eve, who was waiting outside +in the darkness, followed her. She dared not call for help; she hoped +that they might meet Paul coming back, or Porley, or the nurse. But they +met no one, Paul was still at the big pine. Cicely turned down to the +beach, and began to walk westward. Eve followed, moving as noiselessly +as possible; but Cicely must have heard her, though she gave no sign of +it, for, upon passing a point, Eve found that she had lost her, there +was no one in sight. She ran forward, she called her name entreatingly; +she stood by the edge of the water, fearing to see something dark +floating there. She called again, she pleaded. No answer from the dusky +night. She turned and ran back to the camp. + +At its edge she met Paul. "You promised me that you would not leave the +lodge," he said. + +"Oh, Paul, I don't know where she is. Oh, come--hurry, hurry!" + +They went together. She was so tired, so breathless, that he put his arm +round her as a support. + +"Oh, do not." + +"This is where you ought always to be when you are tired--in my arms." + +"Don't let us talk. She may be dead." + +"Poor little Cicely! But you are more to me." + +His tones thrilled her, she felt faint with happiness. Suddenly came the +thought: "When we find her, she will tell him! She will tell him all I +said." + +"Don't believe her; don't believe anything she may tell you," she +entreated, passionately. A fierce feeling took possession of her; she +would fight for her happiness. "Am I nothing to you?" she said, pausing; +"my wish nothing? Promise me not to believe anything Cicely says against +me,--anything! It's all an hallucination." + +Paul had not paid much heed to her exclamations, he thought all women +incoherent; but he perceived that she was excited, exhausted, and he +laid his hand protectingly on her hair, smoothing it with tender touch. +"Why should I mind what she says? It would be impossible for her to say +anything that could injure you in _my_ eyes, Eve." + +Beyond the next point they saw a light; it came from a little fire of +twigs on the beach. Beside the fire was Jack; he was carefully wrapped +in the shawl, the two poor little packets of clothing were arranged +under him as a bed; Cicely's straw hat was under his head, and her +handkerchief covered his feet. But there was no Cicely. They went up and +down the beach, and into the wood behind; again Eve looked fearfully at +the water. + +"She isn't far from Jack," said Paul. "We shall find her in a moment or +two." + +Eve's search stopped. "In a moment or two he will know!" + +"Here she is!" cried Paul. + +And there was Cicely, sitting close under the bank in the deepest +shadow. She did not move; Paul lifted her in his arms. + +"The moon is under a cloud now," she explained, in a whispering voice; +"as soon as it comes out, I shall see Ferdie over there on the opposite +shore, and I shall call to him. "Don't let that fire go out, I haven't +another match; he will need the light as a guide." + +"She thinks she is on Singleton Island!" said Eve;--"the night we got +away." + +Her tone was joyous. + + + + +XXVI. + + +PAUL AND EVE took Cicely back to the camp. And almost immediately, +before Mrs. Mile could undress her, she had fallen asleep. It was the +still slumber of exhaustion, but it seemed also to be a rest; she lay +without moving all that night, and the next day, and the night +following. As she slumbered, gradually the tenseness of her face was +relaxed, the lines grew lighter, disappeared; then slowly a pink colored +her cheeks, restoring her beauty. + +They all came softly in from time to time to stand beside her for a +moment. The nurse was sure that the sleep was nature's medicine, and +that it was remedial; and when at last, on the second day, the dark eyes +opened, it could be seen that physically the poor child was well. + +She laughed with Jack, she greeted her grandfather, and talked to him; +she called Porley "Dilsey," and told her that she was much improved. "I +will give you a pair of silver ear-rings, Dilsey, when we get home." For +she seemed to comprehend that they were not at home, but on a journey of +some sort. The memory of everything that had happened since Ferdie's +arrival at Romney had been taken from her; she spoke of her husband as +in South America. But she did not talk long on any subject. She wished +to have Jack always with her, she felt a tranquil interest in her +grandfather, and this was all. With the others she was distant. Her +manner to Eve was exactly the manner of those first weeks after Eve's +arrival at Romney. She spoke of Paul and Hollis to her grandfather as +"your friends." + +She gathered flowers; she talked to the Indians, who looked at her with +awe; she wandered up and down the beach, singing little songs, and she +spent hours afloat. Mrs. Mile, who, like the well-trained nurse that she +was, had no likes or dislikes as regarded her patients, and who +therefore cherished no resentment as to the manner in which she had been +befooled in the forest--Mrs. Mile thoroughly enjoyed "turning out" her +charge each morning in a better condition than that of the day before. +Cicely went willingly to bed at eight every evening, and she did not +wake until eight the next morning; when she came out of her lodge after +the bath, the careful rubbing, and the nourishing breakfast which formed +part of Mrs. Mile's excellent system, from the crisp edges of her hair +down to her quick-stepping little feet, she looked high-spirited, +high-bred, and fresh as an opening rose. Mrs. Mile would follow, +bringing her straw hat, her satisfaction expressed by a tightening of +her long upper lip that seemed preliminary to a smile (though the smile +never came), and by the quiet pride visible in her well-poised back. +When, as generally happened, Cicely went out on the lake, Mrs. Mile, +after over-seeing with her own eyes the preparations for lunch, would +retire to a certain bench, whence she could watch for the returning +boats, and devote herself to literature for a while, always reading one +book, the History of Windham, Connecticut, Windham being her native +place. As she sat there, with her plain broad-cheeked face and smooth +scanty hair, her stiff white cuffs, her neat boots, size number seven, +neatly crossed before the short skirt of her brown gown, she made a +picture of a sensible, useful person (without one grain of what a man +would call feminine attractiveness). But no one cared to have her +attractive at Jupiter Light; they were grateful for her devotion to +Cicely, and did not study her features. They all clustered round Cicely +more constantly than ever now, this strange little companion, so fair +and fresh, so happily unconscious, by God's act, of the sorrows that had +crushed her. + +Paul was back and forth, now at the camp for a day or two, now at Port +aux Pins. One afternoon, when he was absent, Eve went to the little +forest burying-ground belonging to Jupiter Light. On the way she met +Cicely, accompanied by Mrs. Mile. + +"Where are you going? I will go with you, I think," Cicely remarked. "It +can't be so tiresome as _this._" + +Mrs. Mile went intelligently away. + +"I am very tired of her," Cicely continued; "she looks like the Mad +Hatter at the tea-party: this style ten-and-six. Why are you turning +off?" + +"This path is prettier." + +"No; I want to go where you were going first." + +"Perhaps she won't mind," thought Eve. + +When they came to the little enclosure, Cicely looked at it calmly. "Is +this a garden?" she asked. She began to gather wild flowers outside. +Eve went within; she cleared the fallen leaves from the grave of the +little girl. While she was thus occupied, steps came up the path, and +Hollis appeared; making a sign to Eve, he offered his arm quickly to +Cicely. "Mrs. Morrison, the judge is in a great hurry to have you come +back." + +"Grandpa?" said Cicely. "Is he ill?" + +"Yes, he is very ill indeed," replied Hollis, decidedly. + +"Poor grandpa!" said Cicely. "Let us hurry." + +They went back to the camp. Reaching it, he took her with rapid step to +her lodge, where the judge and Mrs. Mile were waiting. "You are ill, +grandpa?" said Cicely, going to him. + +"I am already better." + +"But not by any means well yet," interposed Mrs. Mile; "he must stay +here in this lodge, and you shouldn't leave him for one moment, Mrs. +Morrison." + +Porley and Jack were also present; every now and then Mrs. Mile would +give Porley a peremptory sign. + +Hollis and Eve stood together near the door talking in low tones. "A +muss among the Indians," Hollis explained. "Those we brought along are +peaceful enough if left to themselves; in fact, they are cowards. But a +dangerous fellow, a _very_ dangerous scamp, joined them this morning on +the sly, and they've got hold of some whiskey; I guess he brought it. I +thought I'd better tell you; the cook is staying with them to keep +watch, and the judge and I are on the lookout here; I don't think there +is the least real danger; still you'd better keep under cover. If Paul +comes, we shall be all right." + +"Do you expect him to-day?" + +"Sorter; but I'm not sure." + +A drunken shout sounded through the forest. + +"An Indian spree is worse than a white man's," remarked Hollis. "But you +ain't afraid, I see that!" He looked at her admiringly. + +"I'm only afraid of one thing in the world," replied Eve, taking, +woman-like, the comfort of a confession which no one could understand. + +"Can you shoot?" Hollis went on.--"Fire a pistol?" + +She blanched. + +"There, now, never mind. 'Twas only a chance question." + +"No, tell me. I can shoot perfectly well; as well as a man." + +"Then I'll give you my pistol. You'll have no occasion to use it, not +the least in the world; but still you'll be armed." + +"Put it on the table. I can get it if necessary." + +"Well, I'll go outside. I'm to stroll about where I can see the cook; +that's my cue; and you can stay near the door, where you can see me; +that's yours. And the judge, he has the back window, one of the guns is +there. All right? Bon-sor, then." He went out. + +Eve sat down by the door. The judge kept up a conversation with Cicely, +and anxiously played quiet games with little Jack, until both fell +asleep; Cicely fell asleep very easily now, like a child. Mrs. Mile +lifted her in her strong arms and laid her on the bed, while Porley took +Jack; poor Porley was terribly frightened, but rather more afraid of +Mrs. Mile, on the whole, than of the savages. + +By-and-by a red light flashed through the trees outside; the Indians had +kindled a fire. + +Twenty minutes later Hollis paused at the door. "Paul's coming, I guess; +I hear paddles." + +"Of course you'll go down and meet him?" said Eve. + +"No, I can't leave the beat." + +"I can take your place for that short time." + +"Don't you show your head outside--don't you!" said Hollis, quickly. + +Eve looked at him. "I shall go down to the beach myself, if you don't." +Her eyes were inflexible. + +All Hollis's determination left him. "The judge can take this beat, +then; you can guard his window," he said, in a lifeless tone. He went +down to the beach. + +All of them--the judge, Mrs. Mile, and Porley, as well as Eve--could +hear the paddles now; the night, save for the occasional shouts, was +very still. Eve stood at the window. "Will the Indians hear him, and go +down?" + +But they did not hear him. In another five minutes Paul had joined them. + +Hollis, who was with him, gave a hurried explanation. "We're all right, +now that you are here," he concluded; "we are more than a match for the +drunken scamps if they should come prowling up this way. When the +whiskey's out of 'em to-morrow, we can reduce 'em to reason." + +"Why wait till to-morrow?" said Paul. + +"No use getting into a fight unnecessarily." + +"I don't propose to fight," Paul answered. + +"They're eleven, Tennant," said the judge; "you wouldn't have time to +shoot them all down." + +"I'm not going to shoot," Paul responded. He went towards the door. + +"Don't go," pleaded Eve, interposing. + +He went straight on, as though he had not heard her. + +"I can't move him," she thought, triumphantly. "I can no more move him +than I could move a mountain!" + +Paul was gone. Hollis followed him to the door. "We two must stay here +and protect the women, you know," said the judge, warningly. + +"Why, certainly," said Hollis; "of course,--the ladies." He came back. + +Suddenly Eve hurried out. + +Paul reached the Indian quarters, and walked up to the fire. He gave a +look round the circle. + +The newly arrived man, the one whom Hollis had called dangerous, sprang +to his feet. + +Paul took him by the throat and shook the breath out of him. + +When Hollis came hurrying up, the thing was done; the other Indians, +abject and terrified, were helping to bind the interloper. + +"The cook can watch them now," said Paul. "I suppose there's no supper, +with all this row?" + +Hollis gave a grim laugh. "At a pinch--like this, I don't mind cooking +one." + +Paul turned. And then he saw Eve behind him. + +Hollis had gone to the kitchen; he did not wish to see them meet. + +"You did absurdly wrong to come, Eve," said Paul, going to her. "What +possible good was it? And if there had been real danger, you would have +been in the way." + +"You are trembling; are you so frightened, then?" he went on, his voice +growing softer. + +"I am not frightened now." + +They went towards the lodge. + +"It's a desolate life you've arranged for me, Eve," he said, going back +to his subject, the Indians already forgotten. "I'm not to say anything +to you; I'm to have nothing; and so we're to go on apparently forever. +What is it you are planning for? I am sure I don't know. I know you care +for me, and I don't believe that you'll find anything sweeter than the +love I could give you,--if you would let me." + +"There is nothing sweeter," Eve answered. + +"Have you given up keeping me off?" He drew her towards him. She did not +resist. + +In her heart rose the cry, "For one day, for one hour, let me have it, +have it all! Then--" + + + + +XXVII. + + +On the second day after the alarm, Paul took the Indians back to Port +aux Pins, and dismissed them, after handing the ringleader to the proper +authorities; the others slunk away with their long black hair hanging +down below their white man's hats, their eagle profiles, in spite of +fierceness of outline, entirely unalarming. Paul then selected half a +dozen Irishmen, the least dilapidated he could find (the choice lay +between Indians and Irishmen), and brought them to Jupiter Light to take +the place of the crestfallen aborigines. He remained there a few days to +see that all went well; then he returned to Port aux Pins for a week's +stay. "Come a little way up the lake to meet me," he said to Eve, as he +bade her good-by; "I shall be along about four o'clock next Wednesday +afternoon." + +His manner still remained a little despotic. But to women of strong will +despotism is attractive; when a despotism of love, it is enchanting. +Eve's feeling was, "Oh, to have at last found some one who is stronger +than I!" + +Even now not for a moment did she bend her opinions, her decisions, to +his, of her own accord; each time it was simply that she was conquered; +after contesting the point as strongly as she could, how she gloried in +feeling herself overridden at last! She would look at Paul with +delighted eyes, and laugh in triumph. To have yielded because she loved +him, would have had a certain sweetness; but to be conquered unyielding, +that was a satisfaction whose intensity could go no further. + +Since that walk in the darkness from the Indian quarters to Cicely's +lodge, when, suddenly, she had let her love have its way, she had +allowed herself to be carried along by chance events whithersoever they +pleased; she had defied conscience, she had accepted the bliss that hung +temptingly before her; she did not think, she only enjoyed. Once or +twice she had sent forth mentally this defiance,--"If you feel as I do, +_then_ you may judge me!" To whom was this said? To Fate? To the world +at large? In reality it was said to all women who in that summer of 1869 +were young enough to love: "If you _can_ feel as I do, then you may +judge me." But it was only once or twice that this mood had come to her, +only once or twice that she thought of anything but Paul; his offered +hand taken, her acceptance of it was at least superb in its +completeness; there was no looking back, no fear, no regret; nothing +but the fulness of joy. + +Still sweeter was it to feel that, deeply as she loved, she was loved as +deeply. Paul might be imperious, he might be negligent in explaining +things, and in other small ways; but there was nothing negligent in his +passion. His genius for directness, which puzzled Hollis in other +matters, showed itself also here; he had little to say--that was +possible--but no woman could have misunderstood the language of his eyes +or of the touch of his hand; or fail to be thrilled by it. The feeling +that possessed him went straight to its end, namely, Eve Bruce for his +wife; the same Eve whom he had not liked at all at first; to whom he had +found it difficult only a few weeks before to write a short letter. This +inconsistency did not trouble him; love had arrived, had descended upon +him in some way, he knew not how, had taken possession of him by force +and forever--he recognized that, and did not contest it. Women are only +women: this had been one of the settled convictions in the depths of his +mind, and it was a conviction not much changed even now; yet this same +Paul, with his mediæval creed, made a lover much more invincible than a +hundred, a thousand other men, who would have said, perhaps, that they +revered women more. "Revered?" Paul would have answered, "I don't revere +Eve, I _love_ her!" + +Whatever name he gave it, she knew that she held the joy of his life in +her hands, that he would come to her for this--had already come; and +that it always would be so. This was happiness enough for her. + +This happiness had existed but ten days. But these days had seemed like +months of joy, she had lived each moment so fully. "Sejed, Prince of +Ethiopia, vowed to have three days of uninterrupted happiness--" she +might have remembered the old fable and its ending. But she remembered +nothing, she scorned to remember; let the unhappy, the unloved, think of +the past; she would drink in all the sunshine of the present, she would +live, live! + +"Row a little way up the lake to meet me," Paul had said. At half-past +three of the afternoon he had indicated, she went to the beach; one of +the Irishmen, under her direction, began to push down a canoe. The open +way in which she did this--in which she had done everything since that +night--was in itself an effectual disguise; no one thought it remarkable +that she should be going to meet Paul. As she was about to take her +place in the canoe, Hollis appeared. + +"Going far? We don't know much about that Paddy," he said, in an +undertone. + +"Only to meet Paul." + +"If he's late, you may have to go a good way." + +"He won't be late." + +"Well, he may be," answered Hollis, patiently. "I guess I'll take you, +if you'll let me; and then, when we meet, I'll come back with his man in +the other canoe." + +"Very well," Eve responded. She did not comment upon the terms of his +offer, she did not care what he thought. She took her place, and he +paddled westward. + +It was a beautiful afternoon; a slight coolness, which made itself felt +through the sunshine, showed that the short Northern summer was +approaching its end. As she sat with her back to the prow, she was +obliged to turn her head to look for the other canoe; and this she did +many times. After one of these quests, she saw that Hollis's eyes were +upon her. + +"Is there any change in me?" she asked, laughing. + +"Rather!" + +"What is it?" + +But poor Hollis did not know how to say, "You are so much more +beautiful." + +"It's my white dress," Eve suggested, in a somewhat troubled voice. "I +had it made in Port aux Pins. It's only piqué." She smoothed the folds +of the skirt for a moment, doubtfully. + +"I guess white favors you," answered Hollis, with what he would have +called a festive wave of his hand. + +Her mood had now changed. "It's no matter, I'm not afraid!" She was +speaking her thoughts aloud, sure that he would not understand. But he +did understand. + +The other canoe came into sight after a while, shooting round a point; +Eve waved her handkerchief in answer to Paul's hail; the two boats met. + +"Mr. Hollis knows that you are to take me back," said Eve, as eagerly as +a child. + +Paul glanced at Hollis. But the other man bore the look bravely. "Proud +to be of service," he answered, waving his hand again, with two fingers +extended lightly. He changed places with Paul; Paul and Eve, in their +canoe, glided away. + +It was at this moment that Cicely, who had been asleep, opened her eyes. +Her lodge was quiet; Mrs. Mile was reading near the window, her seat +carefully placed so that the light should fall over her left shoulder +upon the page. + +Cicely gazed at her for some time; then she jumped from the couch with a +quick bound. "It's impossible to lie here another instant and see that +History of Windham! The next thing, you'll be proposing to read it aloud +to me; you look exactly like a woman who loves to read aloud." She began +to put on her shoes. + +"You are going for a walk? I shall be glad to go too," answered Mrs. +Mile promptly, putting a marker in her book, and rising. + +"No," responded Cicely; "I can't have those boots of yours pounding +along beside me to-day, Priscilla Jane. Impossible." + +"Well, I do declare!" said Mrs. Mile, reduced in her surprise to the +language of her youth. "They can't pound much, Mrs. Morrison, in the +sand; and there's nothing but sand here." + +"They grind it down!" answered Cicely. "You can call grandpa, if you +don't want me to go alone; but come with me to-day you shall not, you +clean, broad-faced, turn-out-your-toes, do-your-duty old relict of Abner +Whittredge Mile." She looked at Mrs. Mile consideringly as she said +this, bringing out each word in a soft, clear tone. + +The judge was listlessly roving about the beach. Mrs. Mile gave him +Cicely's request. "She is saying very odd things to-day, sir," she +added, impersonally. + +The judge, alarmed, hurried to the lodge; Mrs. Mile could not keep up +with him. + +"Priscilla Jane is short-winded, isn't she?" remarked Cicely, at the +lodge door, as he joined her. "Whenever she comes uphill, she always +stops, and pretends to admire the view, while she pants, 'What a +beautiful scene! What a _privilege_ to see it!'" + +The judge grinned; he too had heard Mrs. Mile speak of "privileges." + +"Come for a walk, grandpa," Cicely went on. She took his arm and they +went away together, followed by the careful eyes of the nurse, who had +paused at the top of the ascent. + +"This is a ruse, grandpa," Cicely said, after a while. "I wanted to take +a walk alone, and she wouldn't let me; but you will." + +"Why alone, my child?" + +"Because I'm always being watched; I'm just like a person in a cell, +don't you know, with one of those little windows cut in the door, +through which the sentinel outside can always look in; I am _never_ +alone." + +"It must be dreadful," the judge answered, with conviction. + +"Wait till you have seen Priscilla Jane in her night-gown," said Cicely, +with equal conclusiveness. + +"Heaven forbid!" said the judge, with a shrill little chuckle. Then he +turned and looked at her; she seemed so much like her old self. + +"You will let me go, grandpa?" She put up her face and kissed him. + +"If you will promise to come back soon." + +"Of course I will." + +He let her go on alone. She looked back and smiled once or twice; then +he lost sight of her; he returned to the beach by a roundabout way, in +order to deceive Priscilla Jane; he was almost as much pleased as Cicely +to outwit her. + +Cicely went on through the forest; she walked slowly, not stopping to +gather flowers as usual. After a while her vague glance rested upon two +figures in the distance. She stopped, and as, by chance, she was +standing close beside the trunk of a large tree, her own person was +concealed. The two figures were coming in her direction, they drew +nearer, they paused; and then there followed a picture as old as Paris +and Helen, as old as Tristram and Isolde: a lover taking in his arms the +woman he adores. And it was Paul Tennant who was the lover; it was Eve +who looked up at him with all her heart in her eyes. + +A shock passed over Cicely, the expression of her face changed rapidly +as her gaze remained fixed upon Eve: first, surprise; then a strange +quick anger; then perplexity. She left her place, and went rapidly +forward. + +Eve saw her first, she drew herself away from Paul; but immediately she +came back to him, laying her hand on his shoulder as if to hold him, to +keep him by her side. + +"Paul," said Cicely, still looking at Eve, "something has come to me; +Eve told me that she did a dreadful thing." And now she transferred her +gaze to Paul, looking at him with earnestness, as if appealing to him to +lighten her perplexity. + +"Yes, dear; let us go back to the camp," said Paul, soothingly. + +"Wait till I have told you all. She came to me, and asked--I don't know +where it was exactly?" And now she looked at Eve, inquiringly. + +Eve's eyes met hers, and the deep antagonism of the expression roused +the dulled intelligence. "How you do hate me, Eve! It's because you love +Paul. I don't see how Paul can like you, when you were always so hard +to Ferdie; for from the first she was hard to him, Paul; from the very +first. I remember--" + +Eve, terrified, turned away, thus releasing Cicely from the spell of her +menacing glance. + +Cicely paused; and then went back to her former narrative confusedly, +speaking with interruptions, with pauses. "She came to me, Paul, and she +asked, 'Cicely, do you know how he died?' And I said, 'Yes; there were +two negroes.' And she answered me, 'No; there were no negroes--'" + +"Dreams, Cicely," said Paul, kindly. "Every one has dreams like that." + +"No. I have a great many dreams, but this was not one of them," +responded Cicely. "Wait; it will come to me." + +"Take her back to the camp; carry her," said Eve, in a sharp voice. + +"Oh, she'll come without that," Paul answered, smiling at the peremptory +tone. + +"You go first, then. I will bring her." + +"Don't leave me alone with Eve," pleaded Cicely, shrinking close to +Paul. + +"Take her back," said Eve. And her voice expressed such acute suffering +that Paul did his best to content her. + +"Come," he said, gently, taking Cicely's hand. + +"A moment," answered Cicely, putting her other hand on Paul's arm, as if +to hold his attention. "And then she said: 'Don't you remember that we +escaped through the woods to the north point, and that you tried to push +off the boat, and couldn't. Don't you remember that gleam of the candle +down the dark road?'" + +Eve made an involuntary movement. + +"I wonder what candle she could have been thinking of!" pursued Cicely, +in a musing voice. "There are a great many candles in the Catholic +churches, that I know." + +Eve looked across at Paul with triumph in her eyes. + +"And she said that a baby climbed up by one of the seats," Cicely went +on. "And that this man--I don't know who he was, exactly--made a dash +forward--" Here she lost the thread, and stopped. Then she began again: +"She took me away ever so far--we went in a steamboat; and Ferdie died +all alone! You _can't_ like her for that, Paul; you can't!" Her face +altered. "Why don't I see him over there on the other beach?" she asked, +quickly. + +"You see?" said Eve, with trembling lips. + +"Yes," answered Paul, watching the quivering motion. "We haven't had our +walk, Eve; remember that." + +"I can come out again. After we have got her back." + +Cicely had ceased speaking. She turned and searched Eve's face with eyes +that dwelt and lingered. "How happy you look, Eve! And yet I am sure you +have no right to be happy, I am sure there is some reason--The trouble +is that I can't remember what it is! Perhaps it will come to me yet," +she added, threateningly. + +Paul, drew her away; he took her back to the camp. + +That evening, Eve came to him on the beach. + +"Do you love me? Do you love me the same as ever?" she said. + +He could scarcely hear her. + +"Do you think I have had time to change since afternoon?" he asked, +laughing. + +And then life came back to the woman by his side, came in the red that +flushed her cheeks and her white throat, in her revived breath. + +"Paul," she said, after a while, "send Cicely home; send her home with +her grandfather, she can travel now without danger." + +"I can't desert Cicely," said Paul, surprised. + +"It wouldn't be desertion; you can always help her. And she would be +much happier there than here." + +"She's not going to be very happy anywhere, I am afraid." + +"The judge would be happier, too," said Eve, shifting her ground. + +"I dare say. Poor old man!" + +"A winter in Port aux Pins would kill him," Eve continued. + +"I intended to take them south before the real winter, the deep snow." + +"Mrs. Mile could go now. And--and perhaps Mr. Hollis." + +"Kit? What could Kit do down there?" + +"Marry Miss Sabrina," suggested Eve, with a sudden burst of wild +laughter, in which Paul joined. + +"They are all to go, are they? But you and I are not to go; is that your +plan?" he went on. + +"Yes." + +He kissed her. "Paul Tennant and his wife will take Cicely south +themselves," he said, stroking her hair caressingly. "It's always +braided so closely, Eve; how long is it when down?" + +But she did not hear these whispered words; she drew herself away from +him with passionate strength. "No, she must go with some one else; she +can go with any one you please; we can have two nurses, instead of one. +But you--you must not go; you must stay with me." + +"Why, Eve, I hardly know you! Why do you feel so about poor little +Cicely? Why strike a person who's down?" + +"Oh, yes--down; that is what you all say. Yet she has had everything, +even if she has lost it now; and some people go through all their lives +without one single thing they really care for. She shall not rob me of +this, I will not let her. I defy her; I defy her!" + +"She shall go back to Romney," said Paul. What these disagreements +between the two women were about, he did not know. His idea was that he +would marry Eve as soon as possible--within the next ten days; and then, +after they were married, he would tell her that it was best that they +should take Cicely south themselves. She would see the good sense of his +decision, she would not dispute his judgment when once she was his wife; +she could not have any real dislike for poor little Cicely, that was +impossible. + +Eve came back to him humbly enough. "I am afraid you do not like my +interfering with your plans?" she said. + +"You may interfere as much as you like," answered Paul, smiling. + + + + +XXVIII. + + +The next day Paul started at dawn for Port aux Pins, he wished to make +the house ready for his wife; he had not much money, but there was one +room in the plain cottage which should be beautiful. No suspicion came +to him that there would be any difficulty in making it beautiful; his +idea was simply that it was a matter of new furniture. + +He reached Port aux Pins at night, and let himself into his cottage with +his key; lighting a candle, he went to his room. He had never been +dissatisfied with this simple apartment, he was not dissatisfied now; +there was a good closet, where he could hang up his clothes; there was a +broad shelf, where he could put his hand in the dark upon anything which +he might want; there was his iron bedstead, and there was his white-pine +bureau; two wooden chairs; a wash-hand stand, with a large bowl; a huge +tin pail for water, a flat bath-tub in position on the floor, and plenty +of towels and sponges--what could man want more? + +But a woman would want more; and he gave a little laugh, which had a +thrill in it, as he thought of Eve standing there, and looking about her +at his plain masculine arrangements. The bare floor would not please +her, perhaps; he must order a carpet. "Turkey," he thought, vaguely; he +had heard the word, and supposed that it signified something very light +in color, with a great many brilliant roses. "Perhaps there ought to be +a few more little things," he said to himself, doubtfully. Then, after +another moment's survey: "But I needn't be disturbed, she'll soon fill +it full of tottlish little tables and dimity; she'll flounce everything +with white muslin, and tie everything with blue ribbons; she'll overflow +into the next room too, this won't be enough for her. Perhaps I'd better +throw the two into one, with a big fireplace--I know she likes big +fireplaces; if it's as large as that, I sha'n't be suffocated, even with +all her muslin." And, with another fond laugh, he turned in. + +The morning after Paul's departure, Eve did not go near Cicely; she +asked Mrs. Mile, in a tone which even that unimaginative woman found +haughty, how Mrs. Morrison was. (In reality the haughtiness hid a +trembling fear.) + +"She seems better, Miss Bruce, as regards her physical state. Truth +compels me to add, however, that she says extremely irrational things." + +"What things?" asked Eve, with a pang of dread. For the things which +Mrs. Mile would call irrational might indicate that Cicely was herself +again, Mrs. Mile's idea of the rational being always the commonplace. + +"When she first woke, ma'am, she said, 'Oh, what a splendid wind!--how +it does blow! I must go out and run and run. Can you run, Priscilla +Jane?'--when my name, ma'am, is Priscilla Ann. Seeing that she was so +lively, I began to tell her a dream which I had had. She interrupted me: +'Dreams are the reflections of our thoughts by day, Priscilla Jane. I +know your thoughts by day; they are wearing. I don't want repetitions of +them by night, I should be ground to powder.' Now, ma'am, could anything +be more irrational?" + +"She is herself again!" thought Eve. She went off into the forest, and +did not return until the noon meal was over. Going to the kitchen, she +ate some bread, she was fond of dry bread; coming back after this frugal +repast, she still avoided Cicely's lodge, she went down to the beach. +Here her restlessness ceased for the moment; she sat looking over the +water, her eyes not seeing it, seeing only Paul. After half an hour, +Hollis, with simulated carelessness, passed that way and stopped. As +soon as he saw her face he said to himself, "They are to be married +immediately!" + +"We sha'n't be staying much longer at Jupiter Light, I guess," he said +aloud, in a jocular tone. + +"No," Eve answered. "The summer is really over," she added, as if in +explanation. + +"Don't look much like it to-day." + +She made no reply. + +"Paul went back to Potterpins rather in a hurry, didn't he?" pursued +Hollis, playing with his misery. + +"Yes.--He has a good deal to do," she continued. If he could not resist +playing with his misery, neither could she help exulting in her +happiness, parading it for her own joy in spoken words; it made it more +real. + +"Good deal to do? He didn't tell me about it; perhaps I could have +helped him," Hollis went on awkwardly, but looking at her with all his +heart in his eyes--his poor, hungry, unsatisfied old heart. + +"You _could_ be of use to us," said Eve, suddenly; ("Us!" thought +Hollis.)--"the very greatest, Mr. Hollis. If you would go south with +Judge Abercrombie and Mrs. Morrison it would be everything. They will +probably go in a week or ten days, and Mrs. Mile accompanies them; but +if you could go too, it would be much safer." + +"And you to stay in Port aux Pins with Paul," thought Hollis. "I don't +grudge it to you, Evie, God knows I don't--may you be very happy, sweet +one! But I shall have to get out of this all the same. I'm ashamed of +myself, old fellow that I am, but I can't stand it, I can't! I shall +have to clear out. I'll go west." + +Eve, meanwhile, was waiting for his reply. "Of course, Miss Bruce," he +answered aloud, "should like nothing better than a little run down +South. Why, the old judge and me, we'll make a regular spree of it!" And +he slapped his leg in confirmation. + +Eve gave him a bright smile by way of thanks. But she was too much +absorbed to talk long with anybody, and presently she left him, taking a +path through the woods. + +In fifteen minutes her restlessness brought her back again. She stopped +at the edge of the camp; Porley, near by, was making "houses"--that is, +squares and pyramids of the little pebbles of the beach, which Master +Jack demolished when completed, with the air of a conqueror. "Porley, go +and ask the nurse how Mrs. Morrison is now;--whether she is more quiet." + +"Mis' Morrison, she's ebber so much weller to-day," volunteered Porley. +"When she _ain't_ so quiet, Miss Bruce--droppin' off inter naps all de +time--_den_ she's weller." + +"Do as I tell you," said Eve. + +The girl went off. + +"House," demanded Jack. + +Eve took him on her shoulder instead. + +"Sing to Jacky; poor, _poor_ Jacky!" said the child, gleefully. + +"Mis' Mile, she say Mis' Morrison done gone ter sleep dish yere minute," +reported Porley, with a crestfallen air, returning. + +Eve's spirits rose. "Oh, Jack, naughty boy!" She laughed convulsively, +lifting up her shoulder, as the child tried to insert one of his pebbles +under her linen collar, selecting a particularly ticklish spot on her +throat for the purpose.--"Do you want to go out on the lake?" + +Jack dropped his pebble; he was always wild with delight at the prospect +of a voyage. Porley picked up his straw hat, and brought his little +coat, in case the air should grow cool; in ten minutes they were afloat. +Eve turned the canoe down the lake, rowing eastward. + +After a voyage of twenty minutes, she headed the boat shoreward and +landed; the woods hereabout had a gray-green look which tempted her; +they brought back the memory of that first walk with Paul. "See to +Jack," she said to Porley briefly, lifting the child safely to the +beach. "I shall be back soon." Entering the wood, she walked on at +random, keeping within sight of the water. + +She was lost in a day-dream, one of those day-dreams which come +sometimes to certain temperaments with such vividness that the real +world disappears; she was with Paul, she was looking at him, his arm was +round her, their future life together unrolled itself before her day by +day, hour by hour, in all its details; in her happiness, all remembrance +of anything else vanished away. + +How long this state lasted she never knew. At a certain point a distant +cry crossed the still ecstasy; but it reached her vaguely, it did not +bring her back. A second summons was more distinct; but it seemed an +impertinence which it was not necessary to answer. A third time came the +sound, and now there were syllables: "Miss E-eve! Miss E-eve!" Then, a +moment later, "Oh, _Ba-by_!" She recognized the shrillness of a negro +woman's voice--it was Porley. "Baby?" That could only mean Jack! The +trance was over, she felt as if a whip had been brought suddenly down +upon her shoulders. She rushed to the lake, and from there along the +beach towards the spot where she had left the child. + +The screams grew louder. A bend hid that part of the beach from her +view; would she never reach the end of that bend! She was possessed by a +great fear. "Oh, don't let anything happen to baby!" She could not have +told herself to whom she was appealing. + +At last she reached the curve, she saw what had happened: the child, +alone in the canoe, had been carried out to deep water. + +Porley, frantic with grief, had waded out as far as she could; she was +standing with the water up to her chin, sobbing aloud. Eve's flushed +face turned white. She beckoned to Porley to come to her. Then she +forced herself to stand motionless, in order to recover her breath. As +Porley came up, "Stop crying!" she commanded. "We must not frighten him. +Go back under the trees where he cannot see you, and sit there quietly; +don't speak." + +When she was left alone, she went up the beach until she was on a line +with the canoe; the boat moved waywardly and slowly, but it was being +carried all the time still farther from the shore. "Jacky, are you +having a good time out there?" she called, with a smiling face, as +though the escapade had been his own, and he had cleverly outwitted +them. + +There was not a grain of the coward in the child. "Ess," he called back, +triumphantly. He was sitting on a folded shawl in the bottom of the +canoe, holding on with his hands to the sides; his eyes came just above +its edge. + +"Aunty Eve is going to get a boat and come out after you," Eve went on; +"then we'll go fishing. But Jack must sit perfectly still, or else she +won't come; perfectly still. Does Jacky hear?" + +"Ess," called Jack again. + +"If you are tired, put your head down and go to sleep. Aunty Eve will +come, soon if you are still; not if you move about." + +"I's still," called Jack, in a high key. + +"If there was only a man here!--a man could swim out and bring the boat +in," she thought, wringing her hands, and then stopping lest Jack should +see the motion. She did not allow herself to think--"If _Paul_ were only +here!" It was on Paul's account, to be able to think of him by herself, +to dream of their daily life together--it was for this that she had left +her brother's child on that solitary beach, with only a careless negro +girl to watch over him! But there was no man near, and there was no +second boat. The canoe was already visibly farther away; little Jack's +eyes, looking at her, were becoming indistinct, she could see only the +outline of his head and the yellow of his curls. She waved her hand to +him and sang, clearly and gayly: + + "Row the boat, row the boat, up to the strand; + Before our door there is dry land--" + +And Jack answered with a distant "Ess." Then he tried to go on with it. +"Who pums idder, all booted an' spur-r-rd," he chanted, straining his +little lungs to the utmost, so that his auntie should hear him. + +The tears poured down Eve's cheeks as she heard the baby voice; she knew +he could not see them. For an instant, she thought of trying to swim out +to him herself. "I can swim. It isn't very far." She began to unbutton +her boots. But should she have the strength to bring him in, either in +the canoe or in her arms? And if she should sink, there would be no one +to save Jack. She rebuttoned her boots and ran to Porley. "Go to the +beach, and walk up and down where Jack can see you. Call to him once in +a while, but not too often; call gayly, don't let him see that you are +frightened; if he thinks you are frightened, he will become frightened +himself and move about; then he will upset the boat. Do you understand +what I mean? I am going back to the camp for another canoe. Keep him in +sight; and try--do try to be sensible." + +She was off. Without much hope she began her race. Before she passed +beyond hearing, Porley's voice came to her: "Hi-yi, Jack! Yo're kyar'in +on now, ain't yer? Splendid fun, sho! Wisht I was 'long!" And then +followed a high chuckle, which Porley intended as a laugh. At least the +girl had understood. + +Eve could run very swiftly; her light figure, with its long step, made +running easy to her. Yet each minute was now so precious that +instinctively she used every precaution: she let her arms hang +lifelessly, so that no energy should be spent in poising them; she kept +her lips apart, and her eyes fixed on the beach about two yards in +advance of her, so that she could select as she ran the best places for +her feet, and avoid the loose stones. Her slender feet, too (undressed +they were models for a sculptor), aided her by their elasticity; she +wore a light boot, longer than her foot, and the silken web of her +stocking was longer, so that her step was never cramped. But she could +not run as rapidly as her canoe had skimmed the water under her strong +strokes when it had brought her here; and that voyage had lasted twenty +minutes; she remembered this with dread. For a while she ran +rapidly--too rapidly; then, feeling that her breath was labored, she +forced herself to slacken her pace and make it more regular; as much as +possible like a machine. Thus she ran on. Once she was obliged to stop. +Then she fell into a long swinging step, throwing her body forward a +little from right to left as her weight fell now upon one foot, now upon +the other, and this change was such a relief that she felt as if she +could run the remaining distance with comparative ease. But before she +reached the camp, she had come to the end of all her arrangements and +experiments; she was desperate, panting. + +"If I can only keep on until they see me!" + +The camp had an unusually quiet look; so far as her eyes, injected with +red by the effort she had made, could see, there were no moving figures +anywhere; no one sitting on the benches; no one on the beach. Where were +all the people?--what could have become of them? Hollis and the +judge?--even the cook and the Irishmen? Nothing stirred; it seemed to +her as if the very leaves on the trees and the waters of the lake had +been struck by an unnatural calm. She came to the first stakes, where +the nets were sometimes spread out. The nets were not there now. Then +she came to the cistern--a sunken cask to which water was brought from +an ice-cold spring; still no sound. Then the wood-pile; the Irishmen had +evidently been adding to it that day, for an axe remained in a severed +trunk; but no one was there. Though she had kept up her pace without +break as she ran past these familiar objects, there was now a singing in +her ears, and she could scarcely see, everything being rimmed by the +hot, red blur which seemed to exhale from her own eyes. She reached the +line of lodges at last; leaving the beach, and going through the wood, +she went straight to Cicely's door. It was closed. She opened it. +"Cicely!" she said, or rather her lips formed the name without a sound. + +"What is the matter? Where is Jack?" cried Cicely, springing up as soon +as she saw Eve's face. + +They met, grasping each other's hands. + +"Where is he? What have you done with him?" Cicely repeated, holding Eve +with a grasp of iron. + +Eve could not talk. But she felt the agony in the mother's cry. "Safe," +she articulated. + +Cicely relaxed her hold. Eve sank to her knees; thence to the floor. + +Cicely seemed to understand; she brought a pillow with business-like +swiftness, and placed it under Eve's head; then she waited. Eve's eyes +were closed; her throat and chest labored so, as she lay with her head +thrown back, that Cicely bent down and quickly took out the little +arrow-pin, and unbuttoned the top buttons of her dress. This relieved +Eve; the convulsive panting grew quiet. + +But with her first long breath she was on her feet again. "Come!" she +said. She opened the door and left the lodge, hurrying down to the +beach; thence she ran westward along the shore to the point where the +canoes were kept. Cicely ran by her side without speaking; they had no +need of words. + +Reaching the boats, Eve began to push one of them towards the water. +"Call Mr. Hollis;--go up to the edge of the wood and call," she said to +Cicely, briefly. + +"Gone fishing," Cicely responded, helping to push the boat on the other +side. + +At this moment some one appeared--one of the Irishmen. + +"Take him and follow in that other canoe," said Eve. "We want all the +help we can get." + +As they pushed off rapidly--three minutes had not passed since they left +the lodge--Priscilla Mile came hurrying down to the shore; she had been +taking her daily exercise--a brisk walk of half an hour, timed by her +watch. "Mrs. Morrison, Mrs. Morrison, where are you going? Take me with +you." + +Cicely did not even look at her. "Go on," she said to the man. + +Eve was paddling rapidly; the second canoe followed hers. + +When Mrs. Mile found that the two boats kept on their course, she went +back to the lodge, put on her bonnet and shawl, and set off down the +beach in the direction in which they were going, walking with steady +steps, the shawl compactly pinned with two strong shawl-pins +representing beetles. + +As soon as they were fairly afloat, Cicely called: "Where is Jack? Tell +me about it." + +"Presently," answered Eve, without turning her head. + +"No. _Now_!" said the mother, peremptorily. + +"He is out on the lake, in the canoe." + +"Alone?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh! and it's getting towards night! Row faster; what is the matter with +you?" (This to the Irishman.) "Eve, wait; how far out is he?" + +"It's very calm," Eve answered. + +"But in the dark we can never find him," wailed the mother, in a broken +voice. + +Eve made swift, tireless strokes. The Irishman could not keep up with +her. + +It was growing towards night, as Cicely had said; the days were shorter +now; clouds were gathering too, though the air and water remained +strangely still; the night would be dark. + +"Your arms are like willow twigs, you have no strength," said Cicely to +the Irishman. "Hurry!" + +The man had plenty of strength, and was exerting every atom of it. Still +Eve kept ahead of him. "Oh, Jack!" she said to herself, "let me be in +time!" It was her brother to whom she was appealing. + +She reached the spot where she had left Porley; but there was no Porley +there. Without stopping, she paddled on eastward; Cicely's canoe was now +some distance behind. Fifteen minutes more and she saw Porley, she rowed +in rapidly. "Where is he?" + +"Dair!" answered Porley, pointing over the darkening water with a +gesture that was tragic in its despair. + +At first Eve saw nothing; then she distinguished a black speck, she +pointed towards it with her paddle. + +"Yass'm, dat's him. I 'ain't nebber take my yies off 'em," said the +girl, crying. + +"Tell Mrs. Morrison. She's coming," said Eve. She turned her boat and +paddled out rapidly towards the speck. + +"If I only had matches--why didn't I bring some? It will be dark soon. +But it's so calm that nothing can have happened to him; he will be +asleep." In spite of her pretended certainty, however, dread held her +heart as in a vise. "I won't think--only row." She tried to keep her +mind a blank, resorting to the device of counting her strokes with great +interest. On the light craft sped, with the peculiar skimming motion of +the Indian canoe, as if it were gliding on the surface of the water. The +twilight grew deeper. + +There came a little gust, lightning showed itself for an instant in the +bank of clouds across the southern sky. "There is going to be a storm." +She stopped; the other boat, which had been following her swiftly, came +up. + +"Have you ever been out in a canoe in a storm?" she called to the +Irishman, keeping her own boat well away from Cicely's. + +"No, mum." + +"Take Mrs. Morrison back to shore, then, as fast as you can." + +"Go on!" commanded Cicely, with flashing eyes. + +There came another gust. The man, perplexed by the contrary orders, made +wrong strokes; the boat careened, then righted itself. + +"Take her back," called Eve, starting onward again. + +"Follow that canoe!" said Cicely. + +The man tried to obey Cicely; to intensify his obedience he stood up and +paddled with his back bent. There came another flurry of wind; his boat +careened again, and he lost his balance, he gave a yell. For a moment +Eve thought that he had gone overboard. But he had only crouched. "Go +back--while you can," she called, warningly. + +And this time he obeyed her. + +"Eve, take me with you--take me!" cried Cicely, in a tone that went to +the heart. + +"We needn't both of us die," Eve answered, calling back for the last +time. + +As she went forward on her course, lightning began to show itself +frequently in pallid forks on the dark cloud-bank. "If only there's no +gale!" she thought. Through these minutes she had been able to +distinguish what she supposed was the baby's canoe; but now she lost it. +She rowed on at random; then she began to call. Nothing answered. The +lightning grew brighter, and she blessed the flashes; they would show +her, perhaps, what she was in search of; with every gleam she scanned +the lake in a different direction. But she saw nothing. She called +again: "Jacky! Jack-y!" A great bird flew by, close over her head, and +startled her; its wings made a rushing sound. "Jack-y! Jack-y!" She +rowed on, calling loudly. + +It was now perfectly dark. Presently an unusually brilliant gleam +revealed for an instant a dark object on her left. She rowed towards it. +"Jacky, speak to Aunty Eve. Aunty Eve is close beside you." She put her +whole heart into this cry; then she waited, breathless. + +From a distance came a sound, the sweetest which Eve Bruce had ever +heard. "Ess," said Jack's brave little voice. + +She tried to row towards it. Before she could reach the spot a wind +coming from the south drove her canoe back. "Jacky, Jacky, say yes +again." + +"Ess," said the voice, fainter, and farther away. + +The wind was stronger now, and it began to make a noise too, as it +crossed the lake. + +"Jacky, Jacky, you _must_ answer me." + +"Ess." + +A crashing peal of thunder broke over their heads; when it had ceased, +she could hear the poor little lad crying. His boat must have drifted, +for his voice came from a new direction. + +"I am coming directly to you, Jacky," she called, altering her course +rapidly. + +The thunder began again, and filled her ears. When it ceased, all was +still. + +"Jacky! Jacky!" + +No answer. + +And now there came another cry: "Eve, where are you? Wait for me." It +was Cicely. + +"This way," called Eve. + +She never dreamed that Cicely was alone; she supposed that the Irishman +had taken heart of grace and ventured back. But presently a canoe +touched hers, and there in the night she saw Cicely all alone, like a +phantom. "Baby?" demanded Cicely, holding the edge of Eve's boat. + +"I heard him only a moment ago," answered Eve, as excited as herself. +"Jacky! Jacky!" + +No reply. + +Then Cicely's voice sounded forth clearly: "It's mamma, Jack. Speak to +mamma." + +"Mam-ma!" came the answer. A distant sound, but full of joy. + +Eve put her paddle in the water again. "Wait," said Cicely. And she +stepped from her canoe into Eve's, performing the difficult feat without +hesitation or tremor. The other canoe was abandoned, and Eve was off +with a strong stroke. + +"Call," she said. + +Cicely called, and Jack answered. + +"Call again." + +"His poor little throat will be so tired!" said Cicely, her own voice +trembling. + +"We _must_," said Eve. + +"Jack-y!" + +"Ess." + +On they went, never reaching him, though he answered four times; for, in +spite of the intensity of Eve's exertion, the sound constantly changed +its direction. Cicely called to her child, she sang to him; she even +laughed. "How slow you are!" she said to Eve. "Don't stop." + +"I stopped to listen." + +But presently they were both listening in vain. Jack's voice had ceased. + +The wind now blew not in gusts, but steadily. Eve still rowed with all +her strength, in reality at random, though; with each new flash of +lightning she took a new direction, so that her course resembled the +spokes of a wheel. + +"He has of course fallen asleep," said Cicely. "He is always so good +about going to bed." + +Their canoe now rose and fell perceptibly; the tranquillity of the lake +was broken, it was no longer gray glass, nor a black floor; first there +was a swell; then little waves showed themselves; by-and-by these waves +had crests. Eve, kneeling on the bottom, exerted all her intelligence to +keep the boat in the right position. + +"These canoes never tip over when left alone; it's only when people try +to guide them," said Cicely, confidently. "Now Jack's just like no one; +he's so very light, you know." + +Words were becoming difficult, their canoe rose on the crest of one +wave, then plunged down into the hollow behind it; then rose on the +next. A light flared out on their left; it was low down, seeming below +their own level. + +"They have kindled--a fire--on the beach," called Eve. She was obliged +to call now, though Cicely was so near. + +"Yes. Porley," Cicely answered. + +They were not so far out as they had thought; the light of the fire +showed that. Perhaps they had been going round in a circle. + +Eve was now letting the boat drift; Jack's canoe was drifting, the same +currents and wind might take theirs in the same direction; it was not +very long since they had heard his last cry, he could not be far away. +The lightning had begun to come in great sheets of white light; these +were blinding, but if one could bear to look, they lit up the surface of +the water for an instant with extraordinary distinctness. Cicely, from +her babyhood so impressionable to lightning, let its glare sweep over +her unmoved; but her beautiful eyes were near-sighted, she could not +see far. Eve, on the contrary, had strong eyesight, and after what +seemed a long time (it was five minutes), she distinguished a dark, low +outline very near at hand; she sent the boat in that direction with all +her might. + +"It's Jack!" she called to Cicely. + +Cicely, holding on to the sides of the canoe, kept her head turned, +peering forward with her unseeing eyes into the alternating darkness and +dazzling glare. The flashes were so near sometimes that it seemed as if +they would sweep across them, touch them, and shrivel them up. + +Now they approached the other boat; they came up to it on the crest of a +wave. Cicely took hold of its edge, and the two boats went down into the +hollow behind together. + +"Sit--in the centre--as much--as you can," Eve shouted. Then, being the +taller, she rose, and in the next flash looked within. There lay Jack in +the bottom, probably unconscious, a still little figure with a white +face. + +"He's there," she called, triumphantly. And then they went up on the +next wave together, and down again. + +"Slip--your hand--along--to the end," Eve called. + +Cicely obeyed. + +The second canoe, which all her strength had scarcely been able to hold +alongside, now accompanied them more easily, towed by its stern. If it +could have followed them instead of accompanying them, that would have +been easier still; but Cicely's seat was at the bow, and Eve did not +dare to risk a change of places; with the boat in tow, she paddled +towards the shore as well as she could, guided by the fire, which was +large and bright, poor Porley, owing to whose carelessness in the second +place the accident had occurred (Eve's in the first place), expending in +the collecting of dry fuel all the energy of her repentance and her +grief. They were not very far out, but progress was difficult; Eve was +not an expert; she did not know how to allow for the opposition, the +dead weight, of the second canoe attached to the bow of her own; every +now and then, owing to her lack of skill, the wind would strike it, and +drive it from her so strongly that it seemed as if the connecting link, +Cicely's little arm, would be drawn from its socket. The red glow of the +fire looked human and home-like to these wanderers,--should they ever +reach it? The waves grew more formidable as they approached the +beach,--they were like breakers; Eve did her best, yet their progress +seemed snail-like. At length, when they were so far in that she could +distinguish the figures of Porley and the Irishman outlined against the +fire, there came a breaker which struck the second canoe full on its +side, filling it with water. Cicely gave a wild shriek of rage as it was +forced from her grasp. At the same instant the aunt, leaving the paddle +behind her, sprang into the sinking craft, and, seizing the child, went +down with him into the dark lake. + +She came up again, grasping the side of the boat; with one arm she +lifted the boy, and gave him to his mother, an enormous effort, as his +little body was rigid and heavy--like death. + +And then they got ashore, they hardly knew how, though it took a long +time, Eve clinging to the stern and Cicely paddling, her child at her +feet; the Irishman came to their assistance as soon as he could, the +wind drove them towards the beach; Porley helped when it came to the +landing. In reality they were blown ashore. + +Jack was restored. As Eve ceased her rubbing--she had worked over him +for twenty minutes--and gave him alive and warm again to his mother's +arms, Cicely kissed her cheek. "Bend down your head, Eve; I want to tell +you that I forgive you everything. There is nothing the matter with me +now; I understand and know--all; yet I forgive you,--because you have +saved my child." + + + + +XXIX. + + +Priscilla Mile, close-reefed as to her skirts, and walking solidly, +reached the shipwrecked party soon after nine o'clock; as she came by +the beach, the brilliant light of Porley's fire guided her, as it had +guided Cicely and Eve out on the dark lake. Priscilla asked no +questions, her keen eyes took in immediately Eve's wet clothes and +Jack's no clothes, the child being wrapped merely in a shawl. She said +to the Irishman, who was wet also: "Patrick Carty, you go back to the +camp, you run just as fast as you can split; tell them what's happened, +and let them send for us as soon as they can. 'Taint going to rain much, +I guess." + +The man hesitated. + +"Well, what are you about?" asked Mrs. Mile, walking up to him +threateningly, her beetle shawl-pins shining in the fire-light. + +The Irishman, who had been in a confused state ever since Cicely had +forced his canoe into the water again after he had hauled it up on the +beach, and had beaten his hands off fiercely with the oar when he had +tried to stop her progress--a little creature like that turning suddenly +so strong--answered, hurriedly, "It's goin' I am; ye can see it +yersilf!" and was off like a shot. "_Wan_ attack from a fimmale will +do!" was his thought. + +The nurse then effected a change of dress; with the aid of part of her +own clothing and part of Cicely's and Porley's, she got Eve and Jack +into dry garments of some sort, Jack being wrapped in a flannel +petticoat. The wind had grown much more violent, but the strange +atmospheric conditions had passed away; the lightning had ceased. It was +now an ordinary gale, the waves dashed over the beach, and the wind +drove by with a shriek; but it was not cold. The four women sheltered +themselves as well as they could, Cicely holding Jack closely; she would +not let any one else touch him. + +A little after two o'clock the crouched group heard a sound, and Hollis +appeared in the circle of light shed by the flaring wind-swept fire. He +bore a load of provisions and garments in baskets, in a sack suspended +from his neck, in bags dangling from his arms, as well as in his hands +and pockets; he had even brought a tea-kettle; it was a wonder how he +had come so far with such a load, the wind bending him double. Priscilla +Mile made tea as methodically as though the open beach, with the roaring +water and the shrieking gale, had been a quiet room. Hollis watched them +eat with an eagerness so intense that unconsciously his face made +masticating movements in sympathy. When they had finished, a start +passed over him, as if he were awakening, and, making a trumpet of his +hands, he shouted to Cicely: "Must go now; 'f I don't, the old +_judge_'ll be trying to get here. Back--with _boat_--soon as _ca-a-an_." + +"I'll take your _coat_, if you don't mind," said Mrs. Mile, shrieking at +him in her turn; "then Miss _Bruce_ can have this _shawl_." And she +tapped her chest violently to show him her meaning. Hollis denuded +himself, and started. + +With the first light of dawn he was back. They reached the camp about +ten o'clock the next morning. + +At three in the afternoon Cicely woke from a sleep of four hours. Her +first movement was to feel for Jack. + +Jack was sitting beside her, playing composedly with four spools and a +little wooden horse on rollers. + +"We'd better dress him now, hadn't we?" suggested Mrs. Mile, coming +forward. She spoke in her agreeing voice; Mrs. Mile's voice agreed +beforehand that her patients should agree with her. + +"I will dress him," said Cicely, rising. + +"I wouldn't, now, if I were you, Mrs. Morrison; you're not strong +enough." + +"Where is my dress?" asked Cicely, looking about her. + +"You don't want anything, surely, but your pretty blue wrapper?" said +Mrs. Mile, taking it from its nail. + +"Bring me my thick dress and my walking-shoes, please." + +They were brought. + +Eve came in while Cicely was dressing. + +"Eve, who is this person?" Cicely demanded, indicating the nurse with a +sideward wave of her head. + +"Oh, I'm just a lady's maid--they thought you'd better have one; Porley, +in that way, you know, isn't good for much," answered Mrs. Mile, +readily. + +"Whatever you are, I shall not need your services longer," said Cicely. +"Do you think you could go to-night?" + +"Certainly, ma'am; by the evening boat." + +"There is no evening boat. I must have been ill a long while,--you talk +in such a wheedling manner. I am well now, at any rate, and you can +return to Port aux Pins whenever you like; no doubt you have been much +missed there." + +Mrs. Mile, giving Eve a significant look, went out. + +The storm was over, but the air had turned much colder; the windows of +the lodge were closed. Eve seated herself by the east window. + +"I have been ill, then?" asked Cicely. + +"Yes." + +"I have been out of my mind?" + +"Yes," Eve answered again, in a listless voice. + +"I'm not so any longer,--you understand that?" + +"I understand," Eve responded. + +Her cheeks were white, the lines of her face and figure had fallen; she +looked lifeless. + +Cicely stopped her work of dressing Jack, and gazed at her sister-in-law +for a moment or two; then she came and stood before her. "Perhaps you +didn't understand what I said on the beach? I told you that I remembered +everything, knew everything. And that I forgave you because you had +saved baby; you jumped into the lake and saved him." She paused a +moment; "I forgive you--yes; but never let us speak of it again--never +on this earth;--do you hear?" And, putting her hands on Eve's shoulders, +she pressed the palms down violently, as emphasis. + +Then going back to Jack, she resumed the dressing. "It's the strangest +thing in the world about a child. When it comes, you think you don't +care about it--little red thing!--that you love your husband a million +times more, as of course in many ways you do. But a new feeling comes +too, a feeling that's like no other; it takes possession of you whether +you want it to or not; it's stronger than anything else--than life or +death. You would let yourself be cut to pieces, burned alive, for your +_child_. Something came burning right through me when I knew that Jacky +was in danger.--Never mind, Jacky, play away; mamma's not frightened +now, and Jacky's her own brave boy.--It made everything clear, and I +came to myself instantly. I shall never lose my senses again; though I +might want to, I'm so miserable." + +"And I, who think you fortunate!" said Eve. + +Cicely turned her head and looked at her with parted lips. + +"Ferdie loved you--" + +"Oh, he cared for others too," said Cicely, bringing her little teeth +together. "I know more than you think;--than Paul thinks." She went on +hurriedly with her task. + +A quiver had passed over Eve at the name. "You loved him, and he was +your husband. But Paul can never take _me_ for his wife; you forgive, +but he couldn't." + +"You love Paul, then; is that it?" said Cicely, turning round again. +"Now I remember--that day when I saw you in the woods. Why, Eve, he +_did_ forgive you, he had you in his arms." + +"He did not know. He does not know now." + +"You haven't told him?" + +"I couldn't." + +Cicely paused, consideringly. "No, you could not," she said, with +conviction. "And he can never marry you." She sat down on the side of +the bed and folded her hands. + +"Not when he knows," Eve answered. + +"And were you going to deceive him, not let him know?" + +"That is what I tried to do," said Eve, sombrely. "You were the only +person who knew (you knew because I had told you), and you were out of +your mind; his love came to me,--I took it." + +"Especially as you loved him!" + +"Yes, I loved him." + +"I'm glad you do," said Cicely; "now you won't be so lofty. _Now_ you +understand, perhaps, how I felt about Ferdie, and why I didn't mind, no +matter what he did?" + +"Yes, now I understand." + +"Go on; what made you change your mind? Was it because I had got back my +senses, and you were afraid I should tell?" She spoke with a jeer in her +voice. + +"No; it changed of itself when I saw baby out in that boat alone--my +brother's poor little child. I said then,'O, let me save him, and I'll +give up everything!'" + +"And supposing that nothing had happened to Jack, and that I had not +got back my senses, how could you even then have married Paul, Eve +Bruce?--let let him take as his wife a woman who did what you did?" + +"What I did was not wrong," said Eve, rising, a spot of red in each +cheek. She looked down upon little Cicely. "It was not wrong," she +repeated, firmly. + +"'Blood for blood'?" quoted Cicely, with another jeer. + +"Yes, that is what Paul said," Eve answered. And she sank down again, +her face in her hands. + +"You say you have given him up;--are you going to tell him the reason +why you do it?" pursued Cicely, with curiosity. + +"How can I?" + +"Well, it would keep him from pursuing you,--if he does pursue." + +"I don't want him to stop!" + +"Oh! you're not in earnest, then; you are going to marry him, after all? +See here, Eve, I'll be good; I'll never tell him, I'll promise." + +"No," said Eve, letting her hands fall; "I gave him up when I said, 'If +I can only save baby!'" Her face had grown white again, her voice dull. + +"What are you afraid of? Hell? At least you would have had Paul here. +_I_ should care more for that than for anything else." + +"We're alike!" said Eve. + +"If we are, do it, then; I should. It's a muddle, but that is the best +way out of it." + +"You don't understand," Eve replied. "What I'm afraid of is Paul +himself." + +"When he finds out?" + +"Yes." + +"I told you I wouldn't tell." + +"Oh, any time; after death--in the next world." + +"You believe in the next world, then?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I should take all the happiness I could get in this," remarked +Cicely. + +"I care for it more than you do--more than you do?" said Eve, +passionately. + +Cicely gave a laugh of pure incredulity. + +"But I _cannot_ face it--his finding out," Eve concluded. + +Cicely gazed at her. "How handsome you are to-day! What are men, after +all? Poor things compared to _us_. What wouldn't we do for them when we +love them?--what _don't_ we do? And what do they ever do for us in +comparison? Paul--he ought to be at your feet for such a love as you +have given him; instead of that, we both know that he _would_ mind; that +he couldn't rise above it, couldn't forget. See here"--she ran to Eve, +and put her arms round her, excitedly--"supposing that he is better than +we think,--supposing that I should go to him and tell him the whole, and +that he should come here and say: 'What difference does that make, Eve? +We will be married to-morrow.'" And she looked up at Eve, her dark +little face flushed for the moment with unselfish hopefulness. + +"No," answered Eve, slowly, "he couldn't, he loved Ferdie so!" She +raised her right hand and looked at it. "He would see me holding +it--taking aim--" + +Cicely drew away, she struck Eve's hand down with all her force. Then +she ran sobbing to the bed, where Jack, half dressed, had fallen asleep +again, and threw herself down beside him. "Oh, Ferdie! Ferdie!" she +sobbed, in a passion of grief. + +Eve did not move. + +After a while Cicely dried her eyes and rose; she woke Jack, and +finished dressing him in silence; kneeling down, she began to put on his +shoes. + +The child rolled his little wooden horse over her shoulder. Then he +called: "Old Eve! old Eve! Pum here, an' det down; I want to roll de +hortie on _you_, too." + +Eve obeyed; she took up the other little shoe. + +"Oh, well," said Cicely, her voice still choked with sobs, "we can't +help it, Eve--as long as we've got him between us; he's a tie. We shall +have to make the best of each other, I suppose." + +"May I go with you to Romney?" Eve asked, in a low tone. + +"How can you want to go _there_?" demanded Cicely, her eyes beginning to +flash again. + +"I know.--But I don't want to leave Jack and you. If you would take +me--" + +They said but a few words more. Yet it was all arranged; they would go +to Romney; Paul was to know nothing of it. + + + + +XXX. + + +Cicely thought of everything, she ordered everything; she and Eve had +changed places. It was decided that they should take a North Shore +steamer; this would carry them eastward to the Sault by a route far away +from Port aux Pins. Mrs. Mile was to be sent back to that flourishing +town on the day of their own departure, but preceding it in time by +several hours; she would carry no tidings because she would know none. +Hollis was to be taken into their confidence in a measure--he was to be +informed that this change of plan was a necessity, and that Paul must +not hear of it. + +"He will do what we tell him to do," Cicely remarked. + +"Oh, yes," said Eve, assentingly. + +The first North Shore steamer would not pass before the morning of the +third day. For twenty-four hours Eve remained inert, she did nothing. +The judge, troubled, but inexpressibly excited at the prospect of never +seeing Port aux Pins again; of getting away from these cold woods, and +in a few days from these horrible great lakes; of soon breathing once +more the air of his dear, warm, low-lying country, with its old +plantations, its old towns, its old houses and old friends, hurried +about wildly, trotting hither and thither on many errands, but without +accomplishing much. On the second day Eve's mood changed, and a feverish +activity took possession of her also; she was up and out at dawn, she +did everything she could think of, she worked incessantly. By noon there +was nothing more left to do, and there still remained the whole half of +the day, and the night. + +"I think I'll go out on the lake," she said to Cicely. + +"Yes, row hard; tire yourself," Cicely answered. + +She spoke coldly, though the advice she offered was good. She was trying +hard to be kind to Eve during these difficult last hours when Paul was +still so near; but though she did her best, she often failed. "You'd +better not come back until nearly dark," she added; "we've got to be +together through the long journey, you know." + +"Very well," Eve replied. + +It was a brilliant afternoon, the air was clear; already the woods had +an autumn look. Eve paddled eastward for some time; then she came back +and went out to Jupiter Light. Beaching her canoe, she strolled to and +fro for a while; then she sat down. The water came up and laved the reef +with a soft, regular sound, the Light loomed above her; presently a man +came out of the door and locked it behind him. + +"Good-afternoon, mum," he said, pausing on his way to his boat. "From +the camp down below, ain't yer?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I'm going the other way _myself_. Want to be light-keeper for an +hour or two?" This jocularly. + +It was the man who had come down with a lantern and preceded her and +Paul up the stairs to the little room at the top. + +"There's some one else above, isn't there?" she asked. + +"No, mum; all three of us off ter-day. But me and John Rail'll be back +afore dark; you won't tell on us, I guess?" He gave a toothless smile +and pushed off, nodding slightly in farewell as the distance between +them increased. He went eastward round the point; his boat was soon out +of sight. + +Eve sat gazing at the Light; she recalled the exact tones of Paul's +voice as he said, "_Don't_ you want to go up?" Then they had climbed up, +and down again; and how sweet and strange and exciting it was! Then he +had rowed the canoe home; how delightful it had been to sit there and +feel the boat dart forward under his strong strokes in the +darkness!--for night had come on while they lingered on the reef. Then +she remembered her anger when he said, as he was helping her out, "I saw +how much you wanted to go!" It seemed so strange that she should ever +have been angry with him; she could never be so again, no matter what he +might do. She tried to think of the things he might do; for instance, he +might marry (she had almost said "marry again"). "I ought to wish that +he might find some one--" But she could go no further, that was the end +of that line of thought; she could not wish anything of the kind. She +pressed her hands together in bitter, hot rebellion. But even her +rebellion was without hope. She had been sitting with her feet crossed +before her; she drew up her knees, put her arms upon them, and her head +on her arms. She sat thus a long time. + +A voice said, "Eve!" + +With a start she raised her head. Paul stood there beside her. + +"You did not expect to see me. But I had word. Hollis got one of the men +off secretly as soon as he could; he was ashamed to see me treated so." + +"No," said Eve; "he wanted to give _me_ a pleasure." Nothing could have +been more dreary than her tone, more desperate than her eyes, as she +looked at him. + +"Oh, why did you come here?" she went on. + +"I didn't believe it, Eve; I thought it was all gammon." + +"No; it's true." + +"That you were going to leave me?--Going off without letting me know?" + +"Yes." + +"Who has been talking to you? Cicely--now that she is herself again? +She's a murderous little creature." + +"I talked to _her_, I asked her to take me with her." + +"What is the matter with you?" said Paul. He bent and took her hands, +and drew her to her feet. "Now I can look at you.--Tell me what you +mean." + +"Baby came near being drowned. And it was my fault. That brought me to +my senses." + +"It took you out of them!" + +"I saw then that I had been thinking only of myself, my own happiness." + +"Oh, it would have been some happiness, would it?" said Paul, with a +touch of sarcasm. He took her in his arms. + +"Have you the least doubt about my love for you?" Eve asked. + +He looked deep into her eyes, so near his own. "No, I haven't." And he +rested his lips on hers. + +She did not resist, she returned his kiss. Then she left him. "It's like +death to me, but I must. I shall never marry you." She went towards her +canoe. + +Paul gave a laugh. "That's a nice way to talk when I've been slaving +over the house, and got all sorts of suffocating things you'll like." He +came and took her hands off the boat's edge. "Why, Eve," he said, with +sudden passion, "a week from to-day we shall be living there together." + +"Never together." + +"Why?" + +"I can't tell you, because it's against myself.--I haven't the strength +to tell you." + +"Because it will make me think less of you? Not so much so as your +trying to slip away from me unawares." + +"You think it wouldn't. But it would." + +"Try me!" + +She released herself from the grasp of his hands. "Oh, if the cases had +been reversed, how little _I_ should have minded! No matter what you had +done, you would have been the same to me--God knows you would! In life, +in death, before anything and everything, I should have adored you +always, you would always have come first." + +"So it is with me," said Paul. + +"No, it is _not_. And it's for that reason I am leaving you." + +Paul made no more use of words. What she had said had left no impression +upon him--no impression of importance. He had never been so much in love +with her as at this moment. + +"Don't you see how I am suffering?--I cannot bear it. Oh, leave me! let +me go! Another minute and I shall not have the strength.--Don't kiss me +again. Listen! _I_ shot Ferdie, your brother. I--I!" + +Paul's arms dropped. "Ferdie? Poor Ferdie?" The tears rushed to his +eyes. "Why, some negroes did it." + +"There were no negroes. It was I." + +He stood there as if petrified. + +With desperate courage, she launched her canoe. "You see now that I had +to go. You could not marry a woman who--Not even if she did it to +save--" She waited an instant, looking at him. He did not speak. She +pushed off, lingering a moment longer. "Forgive me for trying to deceive +you those few days," she said. Then, with quick strokes, she sent the +boat westward. After a while, she changed her position, and, taking the +other paddle, she began to row, so that she could look back the longer. +His figure remained motionless for many minutes; then he sat down on the +edge of his canoe. Thus she left him, alone under Jupiter Light. + + + + +XXXI. + + +When Eve reached the camp, after her parting with Paul, Cicely was +waiting for her on the beach, alone; apparently she had sent every one +away. "Well?" she said, as the canoe grated on the sand. + +"I told him," Eve answered. + +"Everything?" + +"Everything." + +"And he did not--?" + +"No, he did not." + +For an instant Cicely's face expressed keen sympathy. Then her +expression changed. "You did it, you know. You'll have to pay for it!" + +"Will you help me to get away?" Eve asked.--"I cannot see him again." + +"And do you imagine that by any chance he wishes to see _you_?" demanded +Cicely, sarcastically. + +"But he will have to come back here--he must; let me go away before he +comes. We were leaving to-morrow in any case; help me off now," Eve +pleaded. + +Cicely surveyed her with pitiless eyes; the once strong Eve now looked +at her imploringly, her face despairing, her voice broken. Having had +her satisfaction, the vindictive little creature turned, and, going back +to the lodge, began to issue orders with imperative haste, as though she +had but one wish in the world, namely, to help Eve; Mrs. Mile found +herself working as she had never worked before; the Irishmen tumbled +over each other; Porley and the cook constantly gallopaded--no other +word could describe their gait. The judge worked fiercely; he helped in +launching the canoes until the blood rushed to his head; he ran after +the Irishmen; he carried Jack, he scolded Porley. And then, during one +of these journeys, his strength failed so suddenly that he was obliged +to sit down; as there was no bench near, he sat down on the ground. + +Soon afterwards Mrs. Mile came by. + +"Dear me! Do let me assist you," she said sweetly. + +"I am merely looking at the lake; it is charming this morning," replied +the judge, waving his hand. + +"I could assist you _so_ well," said the nurse, coming nearer, "knowing, +as I do, the exact position of _all_ the muscles." + +"Muscles, madam? It's more than I do! May I ask you to pass on?" + +One of the Irishmen next appeared, carrying Jack's pillows and toys. + +"Can you tell me where Mr. Hollis is?" demanded the judge, still seated. + +"Mr. Hollis, surr? Yes, surr. Think he's gone fishing, surr." + +"D--n him! He takes a nice time for it--when we're sweating here," +muttered the judge, angrily. + +But poor Hollis was fishing only in a figurative sense, and in bitter +waters. He had sent for Paul--yes; but he could not stay to witness his +return with Eve; (he had not the slightest doubt but that Eve would +return with him). He shook hands with Paul upon his arrival, and made a +number of jokes, as usual. But soon after the younger man's canoe had +started eastward in search of Eve, a second canoe, with Hollis paddling, +stole quietly away, going in the opposite direction. Its occupant +reached Port aux Pins, in due time. He remained there but a few hours. + +A month later a letter came to Paul from a small town near the base of +the Rocky Mountains. "You see, when I got back to Port aux Pins, it sort +of came over me that I'd go west. People are more lively out here, and +not so crowded. I've got hold of a capital thing in raisins, in southern +California. If that fails, there is stock-raising, and plenty of other +things; and the same old auctioneer line. I've left a trifle in the +savings-bank for Jacky. Perhaps you'll take charge of it for him? You'll +hear from me again soon.--C. HOLLIS." + +But Paul never heard from him; from that moment all trace of him was +lost. Ferdie, if he had known Hollis, would have had a vision of him +making his way year by year farther westward, always attired in the +black coat and tall hat (which marked his dignity as a lawyer), whether +voyaging in a prairie schooner, chopping wood at a camp, hunting elk, or +searching for ore. But Paul had no such visions, he did not see human +lives as _tableaux-vivants_. He was sincerely sorry that Hollis had +vamosed in that way. But he understood it too. + +The trifle turned out to be eight hundred dollars. It was regularly +entered to little Jack's account, and there was a pass-book with his +full name, "John Frederick Bruce." "Bruce,--that did it," thought Paul; +"he could give it to the _child_. Poor old Kit! it must have been all he +had." + +Cicely's generalship was excellent; in less than half an hour the three +canoes were ready, and the judge, Porley and Jack, Eve, Cicely herself, +with three of the men to row, took their places; the boats glided out +from the shore, turning towards the west. Mrs. Mile bowed gravely to the +judge, with an air of compunction; she knew what an impression she had +made upon that poor old man; she was afraid that she had not done right! +Mrs. Mile was left in charge of the camp to await the arrival of Paul +Tennant. + +The canoes were out all night. At dawn the little party found refuge on +one of the North Shore steamers, and began the long voyage down the +chain of lakes, stopping again at the beautiful city of Cleveland, +thence by railway to New York, and from there southward by sea. On the +ninth morning of their journey their ocean steamer turned her bows +towards the distant land, a faint line on the right; by noon, she was +making her way along a winding channel, which was indicated here and +there in the water by buoys painted white, which looked like ducks; the +Atlantic was very calm, its hue was emerald green; it was so clear that +one could see the great jelly-fish floating down below. The judge, with +his hands clasped on his cane's head, stood looking eagerly at +everything. His joy was deep, he felt himself an exile returning home. +And oh! how beautiful home was! To him, this Southern coast was fair as +Paradise; he welcomed the dark hue of the Southern trees, he welcomed +the neglected fields, he even welcomed the broken-down old houses here +and there. For at least they were not staring, they were not noisy; to +the judge, the smart new houses of Port aux Pins--those with Mansard +roofs--had seemed to shout and yell. Three negro fishermen, passing in a +row-boat with a torn sail, were eminently worthy creatures; they were +not the impudent, well-dressed mulattoes of the North, who elbowed him +off the pavements, who read newspapers on steamers with the air of men +of the world. When the winding channel--winding through water--came to +an end at the mouth of an inlet, the white sand-hills on each hand were +more beautiful to his eyes than the peaks of the Alps, or the soft +outline of Italian mountains. "God bless my country!" was the old man's +fervent thought. But his "country" was limited; it was the territory +which lies between the St. Mary's River and the Savannah. + +At the little port within the inlet they disembarked, and took the small +steamer of the Inside Route, which was to carry them through the sounds +to Romney. Night had come on, dark and quiet; clouds covered the sky; +the air was warm, for it was still summer here. The dusky shores, dimly +visible on either hand, gave a sense of protection after the vastness of +the ocean; the odors of flowers reached them, and seemed sweet after its +blank, cold purity. Cicely, with Porley and Jack, was on the deck near +the stern; the judge was now with them, now at the prow, now up-stairs, +now down-stairs; he could not be still. Eve sat by herself on the +forward deck, gazing through the darkness at the water; she could not +see it save here and there in broken gleams, where the lights from the +lower cabin shone across it; she heard the rushing sound made by the +great paddle-wheels as they revolved unseen behind her, and the fancy +came to her that she should like to be lashed to the outer rim of one of +them, and be carried up and down through the cool water. Towards ten +o'clock a beam shone out ahead. "See it?" said the judge, excitedly, +coming to show it to her. "Jupiter Light!" + +And Eve remembered that less than a year before she had landed here for +the first time, a woman imperious, sufficient to herself; a woman who +was sure that she could direct her own course; in addition, a woman who +supposed herself to be unhappy. How like child's play did this all seem +now--her certainties, and her pride, and her supposed sorrow! "If I +could die, wouldn't that be the best thing for me, as well as for Paul? +A way out of it all? The first shock over, I should be but a memory to +him; I should not be a miserable haunting presence, wretched myself, and +making him wretched too. I wonder--I wonder--is it wrong to try to die?" + +The stern Puritan blood of her father in her answered, "One must not +give up until one has exhausted every atom of one's strength in the +contest." + +"But if it is all exhausted? If--" Here another feeling came sweeping +over her. "No, I cannot die while he is in the world; in spite of my +misery, I want to be here if he is here. Perhaps no knowledge of +anything that happens here penetrates to the next world; if that is the +case, I don't want to be there, no matter how beautiful it may be. I +want to stay where I can hear of Paul." + +After they had left the boat, and Pomp and Plato were hoisting the +trunks into one of the wagons, Cicely came up. + +"Eve, you must stay with me more, now that we are here; you mustn't be +always off by yourself." + +"I thought you preferred it." + +"Yes, through the journey. But not now. It's a great deal worse for me +now than it is for you; you have left Paul behind, but I am going to see +Ferdie in a moment or two. I shall see him everywhere--in the road, at +the door, in our own room; he will stand and look at me." + +"Well, you will like that." + +"No, for it will be only a mockery; I shall not be able to put my arms +round him; he won't kiss me." + +"Cecilia," called the judge, his voice ringing out happily, "everything +is ready now, and Cesh is restive." + +Cicely gave one of her sudden little laughs. "Poor grandpa! he is so +frantic with joy that he even says 'Cesh,'--though he loathes +abbreviations!" + +Secession, the mule, started on his leisurely walk towards Romney. + +In the same lighted doorway where Eve had been received upon her first +arrival, now appeared again the tall figure of Miss Sabrina. The poor +lady was crying. + +"Oh, my darling Cicely, what sorrow!" she said, embracing her niece +fondly. + +As they entered the hall: "Oh, my darling Cicely, what a home-coming +for you! And to think--" More tears. + +As they came into the lighted parlor: "Oh, my darling Cicely--What! no +mourning?" This last in genuine surprise. + +Cicely closed the door. She stood in the centre of the room. "This is +not a charnel-house, Sabrina. No one is to speak to me of graves. As to +mourning, I shall not wear an inch of it; you may wear as many yards as +you like--you always loved it; did you begin to mourn for Ferdie before +he was dead?" + +"Oh, pa, she said such terrible things to me--our own Cicely. I don't +know how to take it!" moaned poor Miss Sabrina to her father when they +were left alone. + +"Well, you are pretty black, Sabrina," suggested the judge, doubtfully. +"Those tossels now--" + +"I got them because they were cheap. I _hope_ they look like mourning?" + +"You needn't be afraid; they're hearse-like!" + +"Are they, really?" said Miss Sabrina, with gratification. "The choice +at the mainland store is so small." But presently the tears came again. +"Oh, pa, everything is so sad now. Do you remember when I used to ride +my little pony by your side, and you were on your big black horse? How +kind you have always been to me, pa; and I have been such a +disappointment to you!" + +"No, no, Breeny; no, little girl," said the judge. + +They kissed each other, the old man and his gray-haired child. Their +minds went back to brighter days; they understood each other's sorrow. + +At two o'clock Eve had not yet gone to bed. There was a tap at her door. +She spoke. "Cicely?" + +"Yes." + +She drew back the bolt, and Cicely entered, carrying a small lamp. "You +haven't gone to bed? So much the better; you are to come with me." + +"Where?" + +"To all the places where we went that night." + +"I cannot." + +"There is no question of 'cannot;' I wish you to go, and you must, if I +say so." + +Eve looked at her with forlorn eyes. But Cicely was inflexible. She +opened the door; Eve followed her. + +"First, I want to see that Jacky is all right," Cicely said. She led the +way to her own room. Jack was asleep, his dimpled arms thrown out on the +pillow. Cicely bent over him for a moment. Then she looked at Eve. "You +won't ever be troubled by this sort of thing, will you? _You'll_ never +have a child!" She laughed, and, taking the lamp, turned towards the +door. "This was Ferdie's dressing-room; don't you see him over there by +the window?" Eve shrank. "Now he has gone. But we shall hear him +following us along the corridor presently, and across the ballroom. +Then, in the thicket, he will come and look at us;--do you remember his +eyes, and the corners of his mouth,--how they were drawn down?" And the +corners of her own mouth took the same grimace. + +"I cannot go with you," said Eve, stopping. + +"You will do what I wish you to," answered Cicely;--"one generally does +when one has injured a person as you have injured me. For I loved +Ferdie, you know; I really had the folly to love him." (She said this +insolently.) Turning to Eve, with the same insolent smile, "At last you +know what love is, don't you?" she added. "Has it brought you much +happiness?" + +Eve made no answer, she followed humbly; together they went through the +labyrinth of small rooms at the end of the corridor and entered the +ballroom. + +Its empty space was dark, a glimmering gray alone marking the +unshuttered windows. The circle of light from their lamp made the +blackness still blacker. + +"Do you remember when I put on that ball-dress of my grandmother's, and +came jumping along here?" said Cicely. "How strange it is!--I think I +was _intended_ to be happy." + +After a moment she went on: "Now we must begin to listen; he will come +in behind us, we shall hear his step. _You_ ought to hear it all your +life!" she added. + +They reached the window at last; it had seemed to Eve an endless +transit. Cicely drew back the bolt, threw up the sash, and, with the aid +of a chair, stepped out. + +"Wait here," she said, when Eve had joined her outside; "then, when I +have reached the thicket, draw the window down, just as he did; I want +to hear the sound." + +She went quickly towards the thicket, carrying her lamp. Eve was left +alone on the veranda. + +After a few minutes Eve tried to draw down the sash. It resisted, and +she was obliged to use all her strength. A shiver came over her as she +lifted her arms to try a second time, she almost expected to see a hand +come stealing over her shoulder (or under it), and perform the task for +her; and the hand would be--Ferdie's. She hurried after Cicely. + +Cicely came out from the thicket. "Now take the lamp and walk down the +road a little way; I wish to see the gleam moving over the +bushes,--don't you remember?" + +Eve obeyed. It seemed to her as if she should never be free from this +island and its terror; as if she should spend the rest of her life here +following Cicely, living over again their dreadful flight. + +When she came back, Cicely said, "Now for the north point;" she led the +way along the road; their footsteps made crunching sounds in the sand. + +Cicely said, "I was in hopes that the moon would come out from behind +those clouds. Oh, I'm so glad! there it is! Now it will light up the +very spot where you shot him. I will leave the lamp here on the sand; +that will give the yellow gleam that we saw behind us. Now go into the +woods. Then, in a few moments, you must come out and look about, just as +you did then, and you must put out your hand and make a motion of +shooting." + +"I will not," said Eve, outraged. "I shall leave you and go back." + +Cicely saw that she had come to the end of her power. She put her arms +round Eve's neck, and held her closely. "To please me, Eve; I shall +never be content without it; I want to see how it all was, how you +looked. Just this once, Eve; never again, but just this once." + +"I thought you had forgiven me, Cicely?" + +"I have, I have." She kissed Eve again. "_Do_ content me." + +Eve went slowly towards the trees. As she disappeared within the +shadow, Cicely instantly concealed herself on the other side of the +road. There was a silence. + +The moon, emerging still further from the clouds, now silvered the +forest, the path, and the sound with its clear light; there was no boat +drawn up at the point's end; the beach sloped smoothly to the water, +unbroken by any dark outline, and the water stretched smoothly towards +Singleton Island, with only the track of the moon across it. + +Eve stood in the shadow under the trees. The spell of the place was upon +her; like a somnambulist, she felt herself forced by some inward +compelling power to go through the whole scene. The thought of Cicely +had passed from her mind; there was but one person there now--Ferdie; in +another moment she should see him; she listened; then she went forward +to the edge of the wood and looked down the road. + +Something came rushing from the other side, and with quick force bore +her to the ground. Not Ferdie, but Cicely, like a tigress, was upon her, +her hands at her throat. In a strange suffocated voice, she cried, "Do +you like it? Do you like it? Do you _like_ to be dead?" + +And Eve did not struggle; she lay motionless in Cicely's +grasp--motionless under the weight of her body keeping her down. The +thing did not seem to her at all incredible; suddenly it seemed like a +remedy for all her troubles--if Cicely's grasp should tighten. Passively +she closed her eyes. + +But Cicely's grasp did not tighten; the fury that had risen within her +had taken all her strength, and now she lay back white and still. Eve, +like a person in a dream, went down to the beach and dipped her +handkerchief in the water; slowly she came back, and bathed Cicely's +forehead and wrists. But still Cicely did not stir. Eve put her hand on +her heart. It was beating faintly. She stooped, and lifted Cicely in her +arms, holding her as one holds a child, with one arm round her shoulders +and the other under her knees, Cicely's head lying against her breast. +Then she began her long walk back. + + + + +XXXII. + + +The stars were fading, there was a band of clear light in the east over +the sea, when Eve reached the veranda of Romney again; with pauses for +rest, she had carried her sister all the way. Cicely was small and +light, her weight was scarcely more than that of a child; still, owing +to the distance, the effort had been great, and Eve's strength was +exhausted. She put her burden gently down on the floor of the veranda, +and stood leaning against one of the wooden pillars, with her arms +hanging by her sides to rest them; they were numb and stiff, almost +paralyzed; she began to be afraid lest she should not be able to raise +them again; she went to the window to try. The effort of lifting the +sash drew a groan of anguish from her. But Cicely did not hear it; she +remained unconscious. The dawn grew brighter, soon the sun would appear. +It was not probable that at this early hour any one would pass this +uninhabited end of the house; still, negroes were inconsequent; Pomp and +Plato might be seized with a fancy to come; if she could only get Cicely +back to her room unseen, there need be no knowledge of their midnight +expedition. She knelt down beside her, and chafed her hands and temples; +she spoke her name with insistence: "Cicely! Cicely!"--she put the whole +force of her will into the effort of reaching the dormant consciousness, +wherever it was, and compelling it to waken. "Cicely!" She looked +intently at Cicely's closed eyes. + +Cicely stirred, her dark-fringed lids opened; her vague glance caught +the gleam of the sound. "Where are we?" she asked. + +"We came out for a walk," Eve answered. "Do you think you could climb +in--I mean by the window? I am afraid I cannot lift you." + +"Of course I can. Why shouldn't I?" + +She did it as lightly and easily as ever; she was in perfect possession +of all her faculties. Eve followed her. Then she drew down the sash with +the same effort. + +"What is the matter with your arms?" Cicely asked. "You move them as +though they were rusty." + +"I think they _are_ rusty." + +They went through the ballroom, now looking very prosaic, flooded with +the light of the rising sun. "We're always tramping through this old +room," said Cicely. + +When she reached the door of her own chamber, she abruptly drew Eve in. +"Well--are you going to leave me forever?" + +"Not unless you send me away." + +"Is it on baby's account that you stay?" + +"Not more now than at any time." + +"You don't mind what I did, then?" + +"You didn't do anything." + +"That's brave of you, Eve, when you hate lies so. You are trying to make +me believe that nothing happened out there in the road--that I was just +as usual. But I remember perfectly--I sprang at you; if I had been a +man--my hands stronger--you wouldn't be here now!" + +"Fortunately you are not a man, nor anything like one," Eve answered, in +the tone of a person who makes a joke. She turned towards the door. + +"Wait, I want to tell you," said Cicely, going after her, and turning +her round with her hands on her shoulders. "This is it, Eve; it comes +over me with a rush sometimes, when I look at you--that here you are +alive, and _Ferdie_ dead! He was a great deal more splendid than you +are, he was so handsome and so young! And yet there he is, down in the +ground; and _you_ walking about here! Nothing seems too bad for you +then; my feeling is, 'Let her die too! And see how she likes it.'" + +"I should like it well enough, if somebody else did it," Eve answered. +"Death wouldn't be a punishment, Cicely; it would be a release." + +Cicely's grasp relaxed. "Oh, very well. Then why haven't you tried it?" + +"Because Paul Tennant is still in the world! I am pusillanimous enough +to wish to breathe the same air." + +"You _do_ love him!" said Cicely. She paused. "Perhaps--after a +little--" + +"No, I have thought it all out; it can never be. If he should come to me +this moment, and tell me that he loved me in spite of everything, it +wouldn't help me; for I should know that it could not last; I should +know that, if I should marry him, sooner or later he would hate me; it +would be inevitable. Ferdie's face would come always between us." + +"I hope it may," said Cicely, savagely. "Why do you keep on staying with +me? I don't wish you to stay. Not in the least." + +"I thought that I could perhaps be of some use. You were so dear to my +brother--" + +"Much you care for poor old Jack now! Even _I_ care more." + +"Yes, I have changed. But--Jack understands." + +"A convenient belief!" + +"And you have his child." + +--"And I am Paul's sister!" + +"Yes; I can sometimes hear of Paul through you." + +Eve's voice, as she said this, was so patient that Cicely was softened. +She came to Eve and kissed her. "I am sorry for you, Eve." + +"Will you promise me to go to bed?" Eve answered, resuming her usual +tone, as she turned towards the door. "I must go now, I am tired." + +Cicely went with her. "I am never sure of myself, Eve," she said, +warningly; "I may say just the same things to you to-morrow,--remember +that." + +Once in her own room, Eve did not follow the advice which she had given +to Cicely; finding that she could not sleep, she dressed herself afresh, +and sought the open air again. It was still early, no one was stirring +save the servants. Meeting Porley, she asked the girl to bring her some +tea and a piece of corn-bread; after this frugal breakfast, taken in the +shade of the great live-oaks, she wandered down one of the eastern +roads. Her bath had brought no color to her cheeks; her eyes had the +contracted look which comes after a night of wakefulness; though the +acute pain had ceased, her weary arms still hung lifelessly by her side, +her step was languid; only her golden hair looked bright and young as +the sun's rays shone across it. + +She walked on at random; after a while, upon looking down one of the +tracks, bordered by the glittering green bushes, she recognized Miss +Sabrina's figure, and, turning, followed it. + +Miss Sabrina had come out to pay an early visit to her temple of +memories. She heard Eve's step, and looked up. "Oh, is it you, my dear? +It's St. Michael and All-Angels; I have only brought a few flowers, I +hope you don't mind?" Her voice was apologetic. + +"Do you mean for my brother? I wish you had brought more, then; I wish +you would always remember him," said Eve, going over and sitting down +beside the mound. "He has the worst time of any of us, after all!" + +"Oh, my dear, how _can_ we know?" murmured Miss Sabrina, shocked. + +"I don't mean that he is in hell," said Eve. + +Miss Sabrina had no idea what she meant; she returned to the subject of +her temple. "Cicely thinks I come here too often,--she spoke of +charnel-houses. Perhaps I do come often; but it has been a comfort to +me." + +"Miss Sabrina, do you believe in another world?" + +"My dear child, most certainly." + +"And have we the same feelings, the same affections, there as here?" + +"The good ones, I suppose." + +"Is love one of these?" + +"The best, isn't it?" + +"Well, then, my brother took his love for Cicely; if she should die +to-day, how much would she care for him, when she met him?" + +"I think that something else would be provided for your brother, +probably," said Miss Sabrina, timidly. + +"Another wife? Why not arrange that for Ferdie Morrison, and give Cicely +to Jack?" + +"She loved Ferdie the best. Aren't you inclined to think that it must be +when they _both_ love?" suggested the maiden lady. + +"And when they both love, should anything be permitted to come between +them?" + +"Oh, nothing! nothing!" said Miss Sabrina, with fervor. "That is, of +course, when there is no barrier; when it would be no crime." + +"What is crime?" demanded Eve, looking at her sombrely. "I don't think I +know." + +"Surely the catechism tells us, doesn't it?" + +"What does it tell?" + +Miss Sabrina murmured reverently: "Idolatry, isn't it?--and blasphemy; +desecration of the Lord's Day and irreverence to parents; murder, +adultery, theft; falsehood and covetousness." + +"And which is the worst? Murder?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Have you ever spoken to a murderer?" + +"Heaven forbid!" said Miss Sabrina. She glanced with suffused eyes +towards Ferdie's grave. "It is _such_ a comfort to me to think that +though he was in effect murdered, those poor ignorant nig-roes had +probably no such intention; it was not done deliberately, by some one +who _wished_ to harm him." + +"I don't believe his murderer will be afraid to face him in the next +world," said Eve. She, too, looked towards the mound; she seemed to see +Ferdie lying down below, with closed eyes, but the same grimacing lips. + +"Oh, as to that, they would have so little in common that they wouldn't +be thrown much together, I reckon," said Miss Sabrina, hopefully; "I +doubt if they even meet." + +"Your heaven is not like the Declaration of Independence, is it?" said +Eve. + +Miss Sabrina did not understand. She pinched her throat with her thumb +and forefinger, and looked vaguely at Eve. + +"I mean that all men 'are created equal;' your heaven has an outside +colony for negroes, and once or twice a week white angels go over there, +I suppose, ring the Sunday-school bell, and hold meetings for their +improvement." + +Miss Sabrina colored; she took up her basket. + +"Forgive me!" said Eve, dropping her sarcasms. "I am unhappy. That is +the reason I talk so." + +"I feared so, my dear; I feared so," answered the gentle lady, melted at +once. + +Eve left her, and wandered across the island to the ocean beach. Low +waves came rolling in and broke upon the sand; no ship was in sight; the +blue of the water met the horizon line unbroken. She walked southward +with languid step; every now and then she would stop, then walk slowly +on again. After half an hour a sound made her turn; Paul Tennant was +close upon her, not twenty feet distant; the wash of the waves had +prevented her from hearing his approach. She stood still, involuntarily +turning towards him as if at bay. + +Paul came up. "Eve, I know what I am about now. I didn't know out there +at Jupiter Light; I was dazed; but I soon understood. I went back to the +camp, but you were gone. As soon as I could I started after you. Here I +am." + +"You understood? What did you understand?" said Eve, her face deathly +white. + +"That I loved you," said Paul, taking her in his arms. "That is enough +for me; I hope it is for you." + +"That you love me in spite of--" + +"There is no 'in spite of;' what you did was noble, was extraordinarily +brave. A woman is timid; you are timid, though you may pretend not to +be; yet with your own hand--" + +Eve remembered how Cicely had struck her hand down. "You will strike it +down, too!" she said, incoherently, bursting into tears. + +Paul soothed her, not by words, but by his touch. Her whole being +responded; she leaned her head against his breast. + +"To save Cicely you crushed your own feelings; you did something utterly +horrible to you. And you faced all the trouble and grief which would +certainly come in consequence of it. Why, Eve, it was the bravest thing +I have ever heard of." + +Eve gave a long sigh. "I have been so unhappy--" + +"Never again, I hope," said Paul; "from this moment I take charge of +you. We will be married as soon as possible; we will go to Charleston." + +"Don't let us talk of that. Just love me here;--- now." + +"Well--don't I?" said Paul, smiling. + +He found a little nook between two spurs of the thicket which had +invaded the beach; here he made a seat for her with a fragment of wreck +which had been washed up by the sea. + +"Let us stay here all day," she said, longingly. + +"You will have me all the days of your life," said Paul. He had seated +himself at her feet. "We shall have to live in Port aux Pins for the +present; you won't mind that, I hope?" + +She drew his head down upon her breast. "How I have loved you!" + +"I know it," he said, flushing. "It was that which made me love you." He +rose (it was not natural to Paul to keep a lowly position long), and, +taking a seat beside her, lifted her in his arms. "I'm well caught," he +murmured, looking down upon her with a smile. "Who would ever have +supposed that you could sway me so?" + +"Oh," cried Eve, breaking away from him, "it's of no use; my one day +that I counted on--my one short day--I cannot even dare to take that! +Good women have the worst of it; if I could pretend that I was going to +marry you, all this would be right; and if I could pretend nothing, but +just _take_ it, then at least I should have had it; a remembrance for +all the dreary years that have got to come. Instead of that, as I have +been brought up a stupid, good woman, I _can't_ change--though I wish I +could! I shall have to tell you the truth: I can never marry you; the +sooner we part, then, the better." She turned and walked northward +towards the Romney road. + +With a stride Paul caught up with her. "What are you driving at?" + +"I shall never marry you." + +He laughed. + +She turned upon him. "You laugh--you have no idea what it is to me! I +think of you day and night, I have longed to have you in my arms--on my +heart. No, don't touch me; it is only that I won't have you believe that +I don't know what love is, that I don't love you. Why, once at Port aux +Pins, I walked miles at night because I was so mad with jealousy; and I +found you playing whist! If I could only have known beforehand--if I +could only have seen you once, just once, Ferdie might have done what he +chose with Cicely; I shouldn't have stirred!" + +"Yes, you would," said Paul. + +"No, I shouldn't have stirred; you might as well know me as I am. What I +despise myself for now is, that I haven't the force to make an end of +it, to relieve you of the thought of me--at least as some one living. +But as long as you are alive, Paul--" She looked at him with her eyes +full of tears. + +"You don't know what you are talking about," said Paul, sternly. "You +will live, and as my wife; we will be married here at Romney to-morrow." + +"Would you really marry me _here_?" said Eve, the light of joy coming +into her wan face. + +"It's a tumble-down old place, I know. But won't it do to be married +in?" + +"Oh, it is so much harder when you seem to forget,--when for the moment +you really do forget! But of course I know that it could not last." + +"What could not last?" + +She moved away a step or two. "If I should marry you, you would hate me. +Not in the beginning. But it would come. For Ferdie was your brother, +and I _did_ kill him; nothing can alter these facts--not even love. At +first you wouldn't remember; then, gradually, he would come back to you; +you would think of the time when you were boys together, and you would +be sorry. Then, gradually, you would realize that _I_ killed him; +whenever I came near you, you would see--" Her voice broke, but she +hurried on. "You said I was brave to do it, and I was. You said it was +heroic, and it was. Yet all the same, he _was_ your brother; and _I_ +killed him. In defence of Cicely and the baby? Nothing makes any +difference. I killed him, and you would end by hating me. Yet I +shouldn't be able to leave you; once your wife, I know that I should +stay on, even if it were only to fold your clothes,--to touch them; to +pick up the burnt match-ends you had dropped, and your newspapers; to +arrange the chairs as you like to have them. I should be weak, weak--I +should follow you about. How you would loathe me! It would become to you +a hell." + +"I'll take care of that," said Paul; "I'll see to my own hells; at +present I'm thinking of something very different. We will be married +to-day, and not wait for to-morrow; I will take you away to-night." + +Eve looked at him.--"Haven't you heard what I've been saying?" + +"Yes, I heard it; it was rubbish." But something in her face impressed +him. "Eve, you are not really going to throw me over for a fancy like +that?" + +"No; for the horrible truth." + +"My poor girl, you are all wrong, you are out of your mind. Let us look +at only one side of it: what can you do in the world without me and my +love as your shield? Your very position (which you talk too much about) +makes _me_ your refuge. Where else could you go? To whom? You speak of +staying with Cicely. But Cicely--about Ferdie--is a little devil. The +boy will never be yours, she will not give him to you; and, all alone in +the world, how desolate you will be! You think yourself strong, but to +me you are like a child; I long to take care of you, I should guard you +from everything. And there wouldn't be the least goodness in this on my +part; don't think that; I'm passionately in love with you--I might as +well confess it outright." + +Eve quivered as she met his eyes. "I shall stay with Cicely." + +"You don't care whether you make _me_ suffer?" + +"I want to save you from the far greater suffering that would come." + +"As I told you before, I'll take care of that," said Paul. "You needn't +be so much concerned about what my feelings will be after you are my +wife--I know what they will be. Women are fools about that sort of +thing--what the future husband may or may not feel, may or may not +think; when he has got the woman he loves, he doesn't _think_ about her +at all; he thinks about his business, his affairs, his occupations, +whatever he has to do in the world. As to what he _feels_, he knows. And +she too. There comes an end to all her fancies, and generally they're +poor stuff." Drawing her to him, he kissed her. "That's better than a +fancy! Now we will walk back to the house; there is a good deal to do if +we are to be married this afternoon--as we certainly shall be; by this +time to-morrow it will be an old story to you--the being my wife. And +now listen, Eve, let me make an end of it; Ferdie was everything to me, +I don't deny it; he was the dearest fellow the world could show, and I +had always had the charge of him. But he had that fault from boyhood. +The time came when it endangered Cicely's life and that of her child; +then you stepped forward and saved them, though it was sure to cost you +a lifetime of pain. I honor you for this, Eve, and always shall. Poor +Ferdie has gone, his death was nobody's fault but his own; and it wasn't +wholly his own, either, for he had inherited tendencies which kept him +down. He has gone back to the Power that made him, and that Power +understands his own work, I fancy; at any rate, I am willing to leave +Ferdie to Him. But, in the meantime, we are on the earth, Eve, we +two,--and we love each other; let us have all there is of it, while we +are about it; in fact, I give you warning, that I shall take it all!" + +Two hours later, Paul came back from the mainland, where he had been +making the necessary arrangements for the marriage, which was to take +place at five o'clock; so far, he had told no one of his intention. + +A note was handed to him. He opened it. + + "It is of no use. In spite of all you have said, I feel sure that + in time you could not help remembering. And it would make you + miserable beyond bearing. + + "Once your wife, I should not have the strength to leave you--as I + can now. + + EVE." + + + + +XXXIII. + + +The judge was waiting for the steamer at Warwick Landing. Attired in +white duck, with his boy Pomp (Pomp was sixty) waiting respectfully in +the background, he was once more himself. As the steamer drew near, he +bowed with all his old courtliness, and he was immediately answered by +the agitated smile of a lady on the deck, who, with her shawl blowing +off and her veil blowing out, was standing at the railing, timid in +spite of her fifty-three years. It could be no one but Miss Leontine, +who had come over from Gary Hundred, with her maid, to pay a visit to +her dear Sabrina at Romney. The maid was a negro girl of thirteen, +attired in a calico dress and sun-bonnet; she did nothing save strive to +see how far she could straddle on the deck, whose flat surface seemed to +attract her irresistibly. Miss Leontine carried her own travelling-bag. +Occasionally she would say: "Clementine, shush! draw yourself together +immediately." But Clementine never drew herself. + +The judge assisted his guest to disembark--she ambled across the plank, +holding his hand; they drove to Romney in the one-seated wagon, the +judge acting as charioteer. Pomp and the maid were supposed to walk. + +"Clementine, whatever you do, don't cling on behind," said Miss +Leontine, turning her head once or twice unseemingly, to blink at the +offender. But Clementine clung all the way; and brayed at intervals. + +The judge, in his present state of joy, almost admired Miss +Leontine,--she was so unlike Parthenia Drone! "Ah, my dear Miss +Wingfield, how changed is society in these modern days!" he said, +flicking the flank of the mule. "In my time who ever heard a lady's +voice three feet away? Who ever knew her opinions--if she had any? Who +ever divined, at least in the open air, the texture of her cheek, +modestly hidden under her bonnet, or saw more than the tip of her +slipper under the hem of her robe? Now women think nothing of speaking +in public--at least at the North; they attend conventions, pass +resolutions, appear in fancy-dress at Fourth of July parades; their +bonnets for the most part" (not so Miss Leontine's) "are of a brazen +smallness; and their feet, if I may so express it, are the centre of +every room! When I was young, the most ardent suitor could obtain as a +sign of preference, only a sigh;--at most some startled look, some +smile, some reppurtee. All was timidity--timidity and retirement." + +Miss Leontine, in her gratification at this description of her own +ideal, clasped her hands so tightly together under her shawl that her +corset-board made a long red mark against her ribs in consequence. + +As they came within sight of the house, a figure was walking rapidly +across the lawn. "Is that Mr. Singleton?" inquired Miss Leontine. "Dear +Nannie wrote that they would come over to-day." + +"No, that's not Singleton; Singleton's lame," said the judge. + +"And yet it looks _so_ much like him," murmured Miss Leontine, with +conviction, still peering, with the insistence of a near-sighted +person. + +"It's a man named Watson," said the judge, decidedly. + +Watson was a generic title, it did for any one whom the judge could not +quite see. He considered that a name stopped unnecessary chatter,--made +an end of it; if you once knew that it was Watson or Dunlap, you let it +alone. + +In reality the figure was that of Paul Tennant. After reading Eve's note +he crushed the sheet in his hand, and turned towards the house with +rapid stride. There was no one in the hall; he rang the parlor bell. + +"Do you know where Miss Bruce is?" he asked, when Powlyne appeared. + +"In her room, marse, I spex." + +"Go and see. Don't knock; listen." He paced to and fro until Powlyne +came back. + +"Ain't dere, marse. Nor yet, periently, she ain't in de house anywhuz; +spex she's gone fer a walk." + +"Go and find out if any one knows which way she went." + +But no one had seen Eve. + +"Where is Mrs. Morrison?" + +"_She's_ yere, safe enough. I know whur _she_ is," answered Powlyne. +"Mis' Morrison she's down at de barf-house, taken a barf." + +"Is any one with her?" + +"Dilsey; she's dere." + +"Go and ask Dilsey how soon Mrs. Morrison can see me." + +Powlyne started. As she did not come back immediately, he grew +impatient, and went himself to the bath-house. It was a queer little +place, a small wooden building, near the sound. It seemed an odd idea +to bathe there, in a tank filled by a pump, when, twenty feet distant, +stretched the lagoon, and on the other side of the island the +magnificent sea-beach, smooth as a floor. + +Paul knocked. "How soon can Mrs. Morrison see me?" + +"She's troo her barf," answered Dilsey's voice at the crack. "Now she's +dess a-lounjun." + +"Tell her who it is;--that it's important." + +In another moment Dilsey opened the door, and ushered him into the outer +room. It was a square apartment, bare and rough, lighted only from +above; its sole article of furniture was a divan in the centre; an inner +door led to the bath-room beyond. Upon the divan Cicely was lying, her +head propped by cushions, the soft waves of her hair loose on her +shoulders. Delicate white draperies, profusely trimmed with lace, +enveloped her, exhaling an odor of violets. + +"Cicely, where is Eve?" demanded Paul. + +"Wait outside, Dilsey," said Cicely. Then, when the girl had +disappeared, "She has gone to Charleston," she answered. + +"And from there?" + +"I don't know." + +"When did she start!" + +"Two hours ago." + +--"Immediately after leaving me," Paul reflected, audibly. + +"Yes." + +"But there's no steamer at this hour." + +"One of the field hands rowed her up to Mayport; there she was to take a +wagon, and drive inland to a railway station." + +"She could only hit the Western Road." + +"Yes; but she can make a connection, farther on, which will enable her +to reach Charleston by to-morrow night." + +"I shall be twelve hours behind her, then; the first steamer leaves this +evening. You are a traitor, Cicely! Why didn't you let me know?" + +"She did not wish it." + +"I know what she wishes." + +"Yes, she loves you--if you mean that. But--I agree with her." + +"Agree with her how?" + +"That the barrier is too great. You would end by hating her," said +Cicely. + +"I'm the judge of that! If any one hates her, it is you; you constantly +torture her, you are merciless." + +"She shot my husband." + +"She shot your murderer! Another moment and Ferdie might have killed +you." + +"And if I preferred it? At any rate, _she_ had no right to interfere," +cried Cicely, springing up. + +"Why were you running away from him, then, if you preferred it? You fled +to her room, and asked for help; you begged her to come out with you." + +"It was on account of baby," answered Cicely, her voice like that of a +little girl, her breast beginning to heave. + +"And she saved your child's life a second time--on Lake Superior." + +"I know it--I know it. But you cannot expect--" + +"I expect nothing; you are absolutely unreasonable, and profoundly +selfish." + +"I'm not selfish. I only want to make her suffer!" cried Cicely, with +sparkling eyes. + +Paul looked at her sternly. "In that dress you appear like a courtesan; +and now you talk like one. It is a good thing my brother was taken off, +after all--with such a wife!" + +Cicely sank down at his feet. "Oh, don't say that, Paul; it is not true. +All this--these are the things that are underneath, they are the things +that touch me; you never see them when I am dressed. It is only that I +always liked to be nice for _him_; that is the reason I had all this +lace; and I keep it up, because I want him to think of me always as just +the same; yes, even when I am old. For I know he does think of me, and +he sees me too; he is often here. Listen,--I can't help hating Eve, +Paul. But it only comes in little whiffs, now and then. Supposing _I_ +had shot _her_, could you like _me_, after that?" She rose, holding up +her hands to him pleadingly. "In one way I love Eve." + +"Yet you let her go! Heaven knows where she is now." + +He turned his head away sharply. But she saw his tears. "No, Paul," she +cried, terrified, "she isn't dead--if you mean that; she told me once, +'As long as he is in the world, I want to live!'" + +"Well--I shall go after her," said Paul, controlling himself. He turned +towards the door. + +Cicely followed him. "Say good-by to me." She put up her face. + +He touched her forehead with his lips. Then he held her off for a +moment, and looked at her. "Poor child!" he said. + +He returned to the house for his travelling-bag; he remembered that he +had left it in the parlor upon his arrival, five hours before. + +The pleasant, shabby room, as he opened the door, held a characteristic +group: Miss Sabrina, gliding about with plum-cake; the judge, pouring +cherry-bounce; Mistress Nannie Singleton, serenely seated, undergoing +the process of being brushed by Clementine and Powlyne, who made hissing +sounds like hostlers, and, standing on one foot in a bent attitude, held +out behind a long leg. Rupert Singleton, seated in the largest +arm-chair, was evidently paying compliments to Miss Leontine, who, +gratified and embarrassed, and much entangled with her wineglass, her +gloves, and her plate of cake, hardly knew, to use a familiar +expression, whether she was on her head or her heels. Not that Miss +Sabrina would have mentioned her heels; to her, heels, shins, and ribs +did not exist, in a public way; they were almost medical terms, +belonging to the vocabulary of the surgeon. + +"I beg your pardon; I think I left my bag here," said Paul. + +"I had it taken to your room," answered Miss Sabrina, coming forward. +"Powlyne, go with Mr. Tennant." + +"Let her bring it down, please; I am leaving immediately," said Paul, +shaking hands with his hostess in farewell. + +The judge followed him out. "Leaving, did you say? But you've only just +come." + +"I am going to Charleston.--I must follow Miss Bruce without a moment's +delay." + +"Has _she_ gone!" There was a gleam of triumph in the old Georgian's +eyes as he said this. "You will find Charleston a very pleasant place," +he added, politely. + + + + +XXXIV. + + +"Drive to the New York steamer." + +"She's off, boss. Past her time." + +"Drive, I tell you." + +The negro coachman cracked his whip, his two rawboned steeds broke into +a gallop; the loose-jointed landau behind clattered and danced over the +stones. + +"Faster," said Paul. + +The negro stood up, he shook the reins over the backs of his team with a +galloping motion that corresponded with the sound of their feet; in +addition, he yelled without intermission. They swayed round corners, +they lurched against railings and other carriages; every head turned, +people made way for them as for a fire-engine; at last they reached the +harbor, and went clattering down the descent to the dock. Here there met +them the usual assemblage of loiterers, who were watching the steamer, +which was already half a mile distant, churning the blue water into foam +behind her, her nose pointed straight towards Sumter. + +Paul watched the line of her smoke for a moment; then he got out of his +carriage, paid the coachman mechanically, told him to take his luggage +to the Charleston Hotel, and walked away, unconscious alike of the +mingled derision and sympathy which his late arrival had drawn from the +group--boys with market-baskets, girls with baby-wagons, slouching +mulattoes with fishing-tackle, and little negroes of tender age with +spongy lips and bare prehensile toes, to whose minds the departure of +the steamer was a daily drama of intensest interest and excitement. + +There was nothing to be done until evening, when he could take the fast +train to New York. Paul went to the Battery; but noticed nothing. A band +from the arsenal began to play; immediately over all the windows of the +tall old houses which looked seaward the white shades descended; +Northern music was not wanted there. He went up Meeting Street; and +noticed nothing. Yet on each side, within sight, were picturesque ruins, +and St. Michael's spire bore the marks of the bomb-shells of the siege. +He opened the gate of the church-yard of the little Huguenot church and +entered; the long inscriptions on the flat stones were quaint, but he +did not read them. He walked into the country by the shaded road across +the neck. Then he came back again. He strolled hither and thither, he +stared at the old Manigault House. Finally, at three o'clock, he went to +the hotel. + +Half an hour later an omnibus came up; waiters in white and bell-boys +with wisp-brushes rushed out, dusty travellers descended; Paul, standing +under the white marble columns, looked on. He still stood there after +the omnibus had rolled away, and all was quiet, so quiet that a cat +stole out and crossed the street, walking daintily on its clean white +paving-stones, and disappearing under a wall opposite. + +A figure came to the doorway behind, Paul became conscious that he was +undergoing inspection; he turned, and scanned the gazer. It proved to be +a muscular, broad-shouldered man of thirty-five, with a short yellow +beard and clumsy features, which were, however, lighted by keen blue +eyes; his clothes were dusty, he carried a travelling-bag; evidently he +was one of the travellers who had just arrived, coming from the Northern +train. A bell-boy came out and looked up and down the colonnade; then, +with his wisp-brush, he indicated Paul. + +"Dat's him, sah.--You was a-asking." + +"All right," said the traveller. Putting his travelling-bag on a bench, +he walked up to Paul. "Think I know you. Mr. Tennant, isn't it--Port aux +Pins? Saw your name on the book. I'm Dr. Knox--the one who was with your +brother." + +Paul's face changed, its fixed look disappeared. "Will you come to my +room?" + +"In twenty minutes. I must have a wash first, and something to eat. Be +here long?" + +"I go North at six o'clock." + +"All right, I'll look sharp, then; we'll have time." + +In twenty minutes he appeared at Paul's door. The door was open, +revealing the usual bachelor's room, with one window, a narrow bed, a +washstand, one chair, a red velvet sofa, with a table before it; the bed +was draped in white mosquito netting; the open window looked down upon a +garden, where were half a dozen negro nurses with their charges--pretty +little white children, overdressed, and chattering in the sweet voices +of South Carolina. + +"Curious that I should have run against you here, when this very moment +I am on my way to hunt you up," said Knox, trying first the chair, and +then the sofa. "I landed twenty-four hours ago in New York; been off on +a long yachting excursion; started immediately after your brother's +death,--perhaps Miss Abercrombie told you? Whole thing entirely +unexpected; had to decide in ten minutes, and go on board in an hour, or +lose the chance; big salary, expenses paid; couldn't afford to lose it. +I'd have written before starting, if it had been possible; but it +wasn't. And after I was once off, my eyes gave way suddenly, and I had +to give them a rest. It wasn't a thing to write, anyway; it was a thing +to _tell_. There was nothing to be done in any case, and such kind of +news will keep; so I decided that as soon as I landed, I'd come down +here and find out about you and Miss Abercrombie; then I was going up to +Port aux Pins--or wherever you were--to see you." + +"I suppose you can tell me--in three words--what all this is about," +said Paul, who had not seated himself. + +"Yes, easy. What do you suppose was the cause of your brother's death?" + +"Pistol-shot," Paul answered, curtly. + +"No, that was over, I had cured him of that; I telegraphed you that the +wound wasn't dangerous, and it wasn't. No, sir; he died of a spree--of a +series of 'em." + +Paul sat down. + +"I say, have some brandy? No? Well, then I'll go on, and get it over. +But don't you go to thinking that I'm down on Ferdie; I'm not, I just +loved that fellow; I don't know when I've seen anybody that took me so. +I was called to him, you know, after those negroes shot him. 'Twasn't in +itself a vital wound; only a tedious one; the difficulty was fever, but +after a while we subdued that. Of course I saw what was behind,--he had +had an attack of something like delirium tremens; it was that which +complicated matters. Well, I went over there every day, sometimes twice +a day; I took the biggest sort of interest in the case, and, besides, we +got to be first-rate chums. I set about doing everything I could for +him, not only in the regular line of business, but also morally, as one +may call it; as a friend. You see, I wanted to open his eyes to the +danger he was in; he hadn't the least conception of it. He thought that +it was only a question of will, and that his will was particularly +strong;--_that_ sort of talk. Well, after rather a slow job of it, I +pronounced him cured--as far as the wound was concerned; all he needed +was rest. Did he take it? By George, sir, he didn't! He slipped off to +Savannah, not letting me know a gleam of it, and there he was joined +by--I don't know whether you have heard that there was a woman in the +case?" + +Paul nodded. + +"And she wasn't the only one, though she supposed she was. From the +first, the drink got hold of him again. And this time it killed him,--he +led an awful life of it there for days. As soon as I found out that he +had gone--which wasn't at once, as I had given up going over there +regularly--I chased up to Savannah after him as fast as I could tear,--I +had the feeling that he was going to the devil! I couldn't find him at +first, though I scoured the town. And when I did, he was past +helping;--all I could do was to try to get him back to Romney; I wanted +him to die decently, at home, and not up there among those-- Well, sir, +he died the next day. I couldn't tell those women down there--Miss +Abercrombie, Mrs. Singleton, and her aunt, Miss Peggy. They were all +there, of course, and crying; but they would have cried a great deal +worse if they had known the truth, and, as there was nothing to be +gained by it for any one, it seemed cruel to tell them. For good women +are awful fools, you know; they are a great deal harder than we are; +they think nothing of sending a man to hell; they're awfully intolerant. +'Tany rate, I made up my mind that I'd say nothing except to you, +leaving it to you to inform the wife or not, as you thought best. Then, +suddenly, off I had to go on that yachting expedition. But as soon as I +landed I started; and, here I am--on the first stage of the journey." + +Paul did not speak. + +"I say, do you take it so hard, then?" said Knox, with an embarrassed +laugh. + +Paul got up. "You have done me the greatest service that one man can do +another." He put out his hand. + +Knox, much relieved, gave it a prolonged shake. "Faults and all, he was +the biggest kind of a trump, wasn't he? Drunkards are death to the +women--to the wives and mothers and sisters; but some of 'em are more +lovable than lots of the moral skinflints that go nagging about, saving +a penny, and grinding everybody but themselves. The trouble with Ferdie +was that he was born without any conscience, just as some people have no +ear for music; it was a case of heredity; and heredity, you know--" + +"You needn't excuse him to _me_," said Paul. + + + + +XXXV. + + +Outside of a walled town in North Italy there stands, on a high hill, an +old villa, which, owing to its position, is visible for miles in every +direction. It was built in the fourteenth century. Its once high tower +was lowered in A. D. 1423. Its blank yellow walls are long, pierced +irregularly by large windows, which are covered with iron cages; massive +doors open upon a square court-yard within; an avenue of cypresses leads +up the bare hill to the entrance. + +Sixteen days after the conversation between Paul Tennant and Edward +Knox, three persons were standing in the court-yard of this villa behind +the closed outer doors. The court-yard was large, open to the sky; a +stone shield, bearing three carved wolves, was tilted forward on one of +the walls; opposite, over a door, there was a headless figure of a man +in armor; a small zinc cross over a smaller door marked the entrance to +the family chapel. In one corner stood a circular stone well, with a +yellow marble parapet supported by grinning masks; in another hung a +wire cord that led to a bell above, which was covered by a little turret +roof, also bearing a cross. There were no vines or flowers, not a green +leaf; the yard was bare, paved with large stones, which, though ancient, +were clean; the blades of grass marking the interstices, usual in Italy, +were absent here. + +Of the three persons who stood together near the well, one was a stout +woman with a square face, an air of decision and business-like +cheerfulness, and pretty hands which she kept crossed on her black +dress. The second was a small, thin man of fifty. The third was Paul +Tennant. + +"I have heard your reasons, I am not satisfied with them," Paul was +saying; "I must insist upon seeing her." + +"But consider, pray--when I tell you that she does not _wish_ to see +you," said the woman, rubbing her hands together, and then looking at +them inspectingly. + +"How can I be sure of that?" + +"You have my word for it." + +"It is as Mrs. Wingate says," interposed the small, thin man, earnestly. +His voice was clear and sweet. + +"Miss Bruce may have said it. But when we have once met--" + +"Well, I think I'll go in now," interrupted Mrs. Wingate, giving her +hands a last rub, looking at them, and then crossing them on her black +dress again. "I've given you twenty minutes, but I've a thousand things +to do; all the clothes to cut out--fancy! I leave you with Mr. Smith. +Good-day." + +"Instead of leaving me, you had better take me to Miss Bruce," said +Paul. + +She shook her finger at him. "Do you think I'd play her such a trick as +that?" She crossed the court, opened a door, and disappeared. + +Paul turned impatiently to Mr. Smith. "There is something that Miss +Bruce must know. Call her down immediately." + +Mr. Smith was silent. Then he said: "I might evade, but I prefer not to; +the lady you speak of has asked our protection, and especially from +you; she is soon to be taken into the Holy Church." + +"So you're a priest, are you?" said Paul, in a fury. + +"And that woman Wingate is your accomplice? Now I know where to have +you!" + +Mr. Smith did not quail, though Paul's fist was close under his nose. "I +am not a priest; Mrs. Wingate is an English lady of fortune, who devotes +her life to charitable works. Miss Bruce came to us of her own accord, +only three days ago. She was ill and unhappy. Now she is--tranquil." + +"Is she--is she alive?" said Paul, his voice suddenly beginning to +tremble. It had come to him that Eve was dead. + +"She is. I may as well tell you that she did not wish to be; but--but it +has been represented to her that our lives are not our own, to cut short +as we please; and so she has repented." + +"I don't believe she has repented!" said Paul, with inconsequent anger. +He hated the word, and the quiet little man. + +"She told me that she had killed some one," Mr. Smith went on, in a +whisper, his voice, even in a whisper, however, preserving its +sweetness. + +"See here!" said Paul, taking him by the arm eagerly; "that is what I +have come for; all these months she has thought so, but it is a mistake; +he died from another cause." + +"Thank God!" said Mr. Smith. + +"Thank God and bring her out, man! _She_ is the one to know." + +"I'll do what I can. But it may not be thought best by those in +authority; I must warn you that I shall obey the orders of my superior, +in any case." + +"Yet you don't look like an ass!" + +"Wait here, please," said Mr. Smith, without noticing this comment. He +opened a door beside the chapel (not the one by which Mrs. Wingate had +entered), and, going in, gently closed it behind him. + +Paul waited. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. He tried all the doors; +they were locked. He went over to the corner where the bell-rope hung +and pulled it twice; "cling-clang! cling-clang!" sounded the bell in its +turret. + +In answer a window opened above, and a large, placid Italian peasant +appeared, looking at him amiably. + +"Mr. Smith?" said Paul. + +"Fuori." + +"Mrs. Wingate, then?" + +"Fuori." + +"There's only one road--the one by which I came up, and I haven't heard +any carriage drive away; if 'Fuori' means out, you are not telling the +truth; they are not out, they are here." + +The Italian smiled, still amiably. + +"Is there any one here who speaks English?" said Paul, in despair. + +"Ingleese? Si." She went off with the same serene expression. Before +long she appeared again at a door below, which she left open; Paul could +see a bare stone-floored hall, with a staircase at the end. + +Presently down the staircase came a quick-stepping little old woman, +with a black lace veil on her head; she came briskly to the door. "I +hear you wish to speak to me?" + +"You're an American," said Paul. "I'm glad of that." + +"Well, you're another, and I'm not glad of it! Americans are limited. +Besides, they are Puritans. My being an American doesn't make any +difference to _you_, that I know of." + +"Yes, it does. You come from a country where no one is shut up." + +"_How about the prisons_?" + +"_For criminals, yes_. _Not for girls_." + +"Girls are silly. Have nothing to do with them until they are older; +that's _my_ advice," said the old lady, alertly. + +"Do you know Miss Bruce?" + +"A little." + +"Take me to her." + +"I can't, she is in retreat." + +"You wouldn't approve of force being used for any one; I am sure you +would not," said Paul, trying to speak gently. + +"Force? Force is never used here, you must be out of your mind. If you +do not see Miss Bruce, you may depend that it is because she does not +_wish_ to see you." + +"She would--if she could hear me say one word!" + +"No doubt you'd cajole her! I'm glad she is where you can't get at her, +poor dear!" + +"She was to have been my wife two weeks ago," said Paul, making a last +effort to soften her. + +"Well, go home now; she'll never be your wife _this_ side the grave," +said the old lady, laughing. + +"I'll make all Italy ring with it, madam. This old house shall come down +about your ears." + +"Mercy me! We're not Italians, we're English. And we've got a +government protection; it's a charitable institution." + +"For inveigling people, and getting their money! Miss Bruce, you know, +has money." + +"I didn't know a thing about it--not a thing! Money, has she? Well, +Ernestine Wingate _does_ like money; she wants to build a new wing. Look +here, young man, Father Ambrose is coming here to-day; you want to see +_him_. He'll do what's right, he is a very good man; and he commands all +the others; they have to do as he says, whether they like it or not,--I +guess you'd better not _hurry_ away." And, with a nod in which there was +almost a wink, the American convert went back down the hall and up the +stairway, disappearing through a door which closed with a sharp bang +behind her. + +Paul crossed the court-yard, and, opening one of the great portals, he +passed through, shutting it behind him. Outside, attached to the wall of +the villa, there ran a long, low stone bench, crumbling and overgrown +with ivy; he sat down here, and remained motionless. + +An hour later a carriage drove up, and a priest descended; he was a man +of fifty-eight or there-abouts, tall, with a fine bearing and an +agreeable face. Paul went up to him, touching his hat as he did so. "Are +you going in?" + +"That is what I have come for," answered the priest, smiling. + +The doors, meanwhile, had been thrown open; the priest passed in, +followed by Paul. + +When they reached the court-yard the priest stopped. "Will you kindly +tell me your business?" + +"It concerns Miss Bruce, an American who has only been here a few days. +She came, supposing that the death of my brother was due to an act of +hers; I have just learned that she is completely mistaken, he died from +another cause." + +"God be praised! She has been very unhappy--very," said the priest, with +sympathy. "This will relieve her." + +"I should like to see her.--The whole community can be present, if you +please." + +"That will hardly be necessary," said Father Ambrose, smiling again. He +went towards the door by the side of the chapel. "I will tell her +myself, I will go at once." He opened the door. + +"I prefer to see her. You have no real authority over her, she has not +yet taken the vows." + +"There has been no talk of vows," said Father Ambrose, waving his hand +with an amused air. "Every one is free here, I don't know what you are +thinking of! If you will give me your address, Miss Bruce will write to +you." + +"Do you refuse to let me see her?" + +"For the present--yes. You must remember that we don't know who you +are." + +"She will tell you." + +"Yes; she is very intelligent," answered the priest, entering the +doorway and preparing to mount the stairs. + +But Paul knocked him down. + +Then he ran forward up the stairs; he opened doors at random, he ran +through room after room; women met him, and screamed. At last, where the +hall turned sharply, Mr. Smith confronted him. Mr. Smith was perfectly +composed. + +"Let me pass," said Paul. + +"In a moment. All shall be as you like, if you will wait--" + +"Wait yourself!" cried Paul, felling him to the floor. Then he ran on. + +At the end of the hall Mrs. Wingate stopped him. Her manner was +unaltered; it was business-like and cheerful; her plump hands were +clasped over her dress. + +"Now," she said, "no more violence! You'll hardly knock down a woman, I +suppose?" + +"Forty, if necessary." + +He thrust her against the wall, and began trying the doors. There were +three of them. Two were locked. As his hand touched the third, Mrs. +Wingate came to his side, and opened it promptly and quietly. + +"No one has ever wished to prevent your entrance," she said. "Your +violence has been unnecessary--the violence of a boor!" + +Paul laughed in her face. + +There was no one in the room. But there was a second door. He opened it. +And took Eve in his arms. + + +THE END. + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Jupiter Lights, by Constance Fenimore Woolson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUPITER LIGHTS *** + +***** This file should be named 34282-8.txt or 34282-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/8/34282/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/34282-8.zip b/34282-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0db3696 --- /dev/null +++ b/34282-8.zip diff --git a/34282-h.zip b/34282-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4c30f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/34282-h.zip diff --git a/34282-h/34282-h.htm b/34282-h/34282-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2eef7c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/34282-h/34282-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12189 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Jupiter Lights, by Constance Fenimore Woolson. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top:.25em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.25em;text-indent:2%;} + +.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + +.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} + +.nind {text-indent:0%;} + +.r {text-align:right;margin-right:5%;} + + h1 {margin-top:8%;text-align:center;clear:both;} + + h2 {margin-top:8%;text-align:center;clear:both;font-size:110%;} + + hr {width:20%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} + + hr.full {width:100%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;border:4px double gray;} + + table {margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;text-align:left;} + + body{margin-left:2%;margin-right:2%;background:#fdfdfd;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} + +a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + + link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + +a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} + +a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} + + img {border:none;} + +.block {margin:5% 20% 5% 20%;} + +.figcenter {margin-right:auto;margin-left:auto;text-align:center;} + +.poem {margin-left:25%;text-indent:0%;} + +small {font-size:75%;} +</style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jupiter Lights, by Constance Fenimore Woolson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jupiter Lights + +Author: Constance Fenimore Woolson + +Release Date: November 11, 2010 [EBook #34282] +[Last updated: April 28, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUPITER LIGHTS *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"> +<img src="images/ill_cover.jpg" +id="coverpage" width="375" height="550" alt="image of the book's cover." title="" /> +</div> +<h1>JUPITER LIGHTS<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<img src="images/ill_novel.png" +width="100" +height="24" +alt="A Novel" +/> +</h1> + +<p class="cb"><small>BY</small><br /> +<br /> +CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON</p> + +<p class="cb"><small>AUTHOR OF “ANNE” “EAST ANGELS” “FOR THE MAJOR” ETC.</small></p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="cb">NEW YORK<br /> +HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE<br /> +1889</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="c"><small>Copyright, 1889, by H<small>ARPER</small> & B<small>ROTHERS</small>.</small><br /> +———<br /> +<small><i>All rights reserved</i></small>.</p> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table border="6" cellpadding="8" cellspacing="0" summary="contents"> +<tr><td align="center">Chapter: <a href="#I"><b>I., </b></a> +<a href="#II"><b>II., </b></a> +<a href="#III"><b>III., </b></a> +<a href="#IV"><b>IV., </b></a> +<a href="#V"><b>V., </b></a> +<a href="#VI"><b>VI., </b></a> +<a href="#VII"><b>VII., </b></a> +<a href="#VIII"><b>VIII., </b></a> +<a href="#IX"><b>IX., </b></a> +<a href="#X"><b>X., </b></a> +<a href="#XI"><b>XI., </b></a> +<a href="#XII"><b>XII., </b></a> +<a href="#XIII"><b>XIII., </b></a> +<a href="#XIV"><b>XIV., </b></a> +<a href="#XV"><b>XV., </b></a> +<a href="#XVI"><b>XVI., </b></a> +<a href="#XVII"><b>XVII., </b></a> +<a href="#XVIII"><b>XVIII., </b></a> +<a href="#XIX"><b>XIX., </b></a><br /> +<a href="#XX"><b>XX., </b></a> +<a href="#XXI"><b>XXI., </b></a> +<a href="#XXII"><b>XXII., </b></a> +<a href="#XXIII"><b>XXIII., </b></a> +<a href="#XXIV"><b>XXIV., </b></a> +<a href="#XXV"><b>XXV., </b></a> +<a href="#XXVI"><b>XXVI., </b></a> +<a href="#XXVII"><b>XXVII., </b></a> +<a href="#XXVIII"><b>XXVIII., </b></a> +<a href="#XXIX"><b>XXIX., </b></a> +<a href="#XXX"><b>XXX., </b></a> +<a href="#XXXI"><b>XXXI., </b></a> +<a href="#XXXII"><b>XXXII., </b></a> +<a href="#XXXIII"><b>XXXIII., </b></a> +<a href="#XXXIV"><b>XXXIV., </b></a> +<a href="#XXXV"><b>XXXV.</b></a> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> + +<h1>JUPITER LIGHTS.</h1> + +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I.</h2> + +<p>“I<small>T’S</small> extraordinary navigation, certainly,” said Miss Bruce.</p> + +<p>“Oh, mem, if you please, isn’t it better than the hother?” answered +Meadows, respectfully.</p> + +<p>Meadows was Miss Bruce’s maid; one could have told that she was English +(even if one had not heard her speak) from her fresh, rosy complexion, +her smooth hair put plainly and primly back from her forehead, her +stiff-backed figure with its elbows out, and her large, thick-soled +boots.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind being ’umped-up on the bank, miss, if you please,” she +went on in her sweet voice, dropping her h’s (and adding them, too) in +unexpected places. “It’s those great waves we ’ad last week, mem, if you +please, that seemed so horful.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry you will have to see them again so soon,” Miss Bruce +answered, kindly.</p> + +<p>For Meadows was to return to England immediately; she was accompanying +the American lady for the journey only. Miss Bruce was not rich; in her +own land she did not intend to give herself the luxury of a +lady’s-maid—an indulgence more unusual<a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a> in the great Republic (at least +the northern half of it) than fine clothes, finer houses, or the finest +diamonds.</p> + +<p>The little steamboat which carried these travellers was aground in a +green plain, a grassy, reedy prairie, which extended unbroken as far as +the eye could reach on all sides save one; here there was, at some +distance, a bank or shore of dark land, dark in comparison with the +green. Beyond this shore—and one could easily see over it—stretched +the sea, “the real sea,” as Miss Bruce called it, “and not all this +grass!” It was this remark of hers which had drawn out the protest of +poor Meadows.</p> + +<p>Miss Bruce had crossed from England to New York; she had then journeyed +southward, also by sea, to Savannah, and from that leafy town, as fair +as is its name, she had continued her voyage in this little boat, the +<i>Altamaha</i>, by what was called the Inland Route, a queer, amusing +passage, winding in and out among the sounds and bays, the lagoons and +marsh channels of the coast, the ocean almost always in sight on the +left side, visible over the low islands which constantly succeeded each +other, and which formed the barrier that kept out the “real sea,” that +ravaging, ramping, rolling, disturbing surface upon whose terrific +inequalities the Inland Route relied for its own patronage. There were +no inequalities here, certainly, unless one counted as such the +sensation which Meadows had described as “being ’umped up.” The channel +was very narrow, and as it wound with apparent aimlessness hither and +thither in the salt-marsh, it made every now and then such a short turn, +doubling upon itself, that the steamer, small as she was, could only +pass it by running<a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a> ashore, and then allowing her bows to be hauled +round ignominiously by the crew in a row-boat; while thus ashore, one +side half out of water, her passengers, sitting on that side, had the +sensation which the English girl had pictured. At present the <i>Altamaha</i> +had not run herself aground purposely, but by accident; the crew did not +descend to the row-boat this time, but, coming up on deck, armed with +long poles, whose ends they inserted in the near bank with an air of +being accustomed to it, they shoved the little craft into deep water +with a series of pushes which kept time to their chorus of</p> + +<p class="c">“Ger-long! Ger-long! <i>Mo</i>-ses!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how we are to get on here at all at night,” said Miss +Bruce.</p> + +<p>But before night the marsh ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the +<i>Altamaha</i> was gliding onward again between banks equally low and near, +but made of solid earth, not reeds. The sun sank in the west, the +gorgeous colors of the American sunset flamed in the sky. The returning +American welcomed them. She was not happy; she was as far as possible +from being what is called amiable; but for the moment she admired, +forgetting her own griefs. Then the after-glow faded; Meadows brought a +shawl from their tiny cabin and folded it round her mistress; it was the +23d of December, and the evening air was cool, but not cold. By-and-by +in the dusky twilight a gleam shone out ahead, like an immense star.</p> + +<p>“What is that, captain?” Miss Bruce asked, as this official happened to +pass near her chair.</p> + +<p>“That? Jupiter Light.”</p> + +<p>“Then we must be near Warwick?” She gave<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a> to the name its English +pronunciation, the only one she knew.</p> + +<p>The captain declined to say whether they were near it or not, as it was +a place he had never heard of. “The next landing is War-wick,” he +announced, impersonally, pronouncing the name according to its spelling.</p> + +<p>“So near?” said Miss Bruce, rising.</p> + +<p>“No hurry. Ain’t there yet.”</p> + +<p>And so it proved. A moon rose, and with it a mist. The <i>Altamaha</i>, +ceasing her nosing progress through the little channels, turned sharply +eastward, and seemed suddenly to have entered the ocean, for great waves +began to toss her and knock her about with more and more violence, until +at last the only steady thing in sight was the blazing star of Jupiter +Light, which still shone calmly ahead. After half an hour of this rough +progress a low beach presented itself through the mist, and the blazing +star disappeared, its place being taken by a spectral tower, tall and +white, which stood alone at the end of a long curving tongue of sand. +The steamer, with due caution, drew near a lonely little pier.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t much of a place, then?” said Miss Bruce, as the captain, in +the exigencies of making a safe landing with his cockle-shell, again +paused for a moment near her chair.</p> + +<p>“Place? Post-office and Romney; that’s all. Slacken off that line +there—you hear? Slacken, I tell you!”</p> + +<p>A moment later the traveller, having made her way with difficulty +through the little boat’s dark, wet, hissing lower regions, emerged, and +crossed a plank to the somewhat safer footing beyond.<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a></p> + +<p>“Is this Cicely?” she asked, as a small figure came to meet her.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am Cicely.”</p> + +<p>Eve Bruce extended her hand. But Cicely put up her face for a warmer +greeting.</p> + +<p>“Are those your trunks? Oh, you have brought some one with you?”</p> + +<p>“It’s only Meadows, my maid; she goes back to-morrow when the boat +returns.”</p> + +<p>“There’s room for her, if you mean that; the house is large enough for +anything. I was only wondering what our people would make of her; they +have never seen a white servant in their lives.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t bring—the baby?” asked Eve Bruce.</p> + +<p>“Jack? Oh, no; Jack’s asleep.”</p> + +<p>Eve quivered at the name.</p> + +<p>“Are you cold?” said Cicely. “We’ll start as soon as that hissing boat +gets off. I hope you don’t mind riding behind a mule? Oh, look!” and she +seized her companion’s arm. “Uncle Abram is shocked that your maid—what +did you call her—Fields?—should be carrying anything—a white lady, as +he supposes; and he is trying to take the bag away from her. She’s +evidently frightened; Pomp and Plato haven’t as many clothes on as they +might have, I acknowledge. Oh, do look!”</p> + +<p>Eve, still quivering, glanced mechanically in the direction indicated.</p> + +<p>A short negro, an old man with abnormally long arms, was endeavoring to +take from Meadows’s grasp a small hand-bag which she was carrying. Again +and again he tried, and the girl repulsed him. Two more negroes +approached, and lifted one of the trunks which she was guarding. She +followed the<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a> trunk; and now Uncle Abram, coming round on the other +side, tried to get possession of a larger bag which she held in her left +hand. She wrenched it from him several times desperately, and then, as +he still persisted, she used it as a missile over the side of his head, +and began to shriek and run.</p> + +<p>The noise of the hissing steam prevented Miss Bruce from calling to her +distracted handmaid.</p> + +<p>Cicely laughed and laughed. “I didn’t expect anything half so funny,” +she said.</p> + +<p>The little <i>Altamaha</i> now backed out from the pier into rough water +again, and the hissing ceased. Besides the dark heaving waves, the tall +light-house, and the beach, there was now nothing to be seen but a row +of white sand-hills which blocked the view towards the north.</p> + +<p>“This is the sea-shore, isn’t it?” said Eve. As she asked her question +her voice had in her own ears a horribly false sound; she was speaking +merely for the sake of saying something; Cicely’s “I didn’t expect +anything half so funny” had hurt her like the edge of a knife.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; this isn’t the sea; this is the Sound,” Cicely answered. “The +sea is round on the other side. You will hear it often enough at Romney; +it booms dreadfully after a storm.”</p> + +<p>Plato and Pomp now emerged from the mist, each leading a mule; one of +these animals was attached to a wagon which had two seats, and the other +to a rough cart.</p> + +<p>“Will you get in, please?” said Cicely, going towards the wagon. “I +reckon your maid had better come with us.”</p> + +<p>“Meadows! Meadows!” called Miss Bruce. “Never<a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a> mind the luggage; it is +quite safe. You are to come with us in this wagon.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, mem,” responded the English voice. The girl had ceased running; +but she still stood guard over the trunks. “And shall I bring the +dressing-bags with me, mem?” she added.</p> + +<p>“She is bringing them whether or no,” said her mistress; “I knew she +would. She likes to pretend that one contains a gold-mounted +dressing-case and the other a jewel-casket; she is accustomed to such +things, and considers them the proper appendages of a lady.” Her voice +still had to herself a forced sound. But Cicely noticed nothing.</p> + +<p>The two ladies climbed into the wagon and placed themselves on the back +seat; Meadows, still hugging the supposed treasures, mounted gingerly to +her place beside Uncle Abram, disarmed a little by his low brows; and +then, after some persuasion, the mule was induced to start, the cart +with the luggage following behind, Plato and Pomp beside it. The road +was deeply covered with sand; both mules could do no more than walk. At +last, after passing the barrier of sand-hills, they came to firmer +ground; bushes began to appear, and then low trees. The trees all +slanted westward.</p> + +<p>“The wind,” Cicely explained.</p> + +<p>The drive lasted half an hour. “Meadows, put down those bags,” said Eve; +“they are too heavy for you. But not too near Mrs. Bruce—to trouble +her.”</p> + +<p>The wagon was passing between two high gate-posts (there was no gate); +it entered an avenue bordered with trees whose boughs met overhead, +shutting out the moonlight. But Uncle Abram knew the way; and so did the +mule, who conducted his<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a> wagon over the remaining space, and up to the +porch of a large low house, in a sudden wild gallop. “Hi-yi!” said Uncle +Abram, warningly; “All ri’, den, ef yer wanter,” he added, rattling the +reins. “Lippity-clip!”</p> + +<p>The visitor’s eyes perceived lights, an open door, and two figures +waiting within. The wagon stopped, and Meadows dismounted from her +perch. But Cicely, before following her, put her face close to Eve’s, +and whispered: “I’d better tell you now, so that you won’t call me that +again—before the others: I’m not Mrs. Bruce any longer; my name is +Morrison. I married Ferdinand Morrison six months ago.” After this +stupefying declaration she pressed Eve’s hand, and, jumping lightly to +the ground, called out, “Bring the steps, some of you.”</p> + +<p>There was a sudden dispersion of the group of negroes near the porch; a +horse-block with a flight of steps attached was brought, and placed in +position for the visitor’s descent. It appeared that she needed this +assistance, for she had remained motionless in the wagon, making no +effort to follow Cicely’s example. Now she descended, jealously aided by +Meadows, who had retained but one clear idea amid all these +bewilderments of night-drives with half-dressed blacks and mad mules +through a desert of sand, and that was to do all in her power for the +unfortunate lady whom for the moment she was serving; for what must her +sufferings be—to come from Hayling Hall to this!</p> + +<p>“Here is Eve,” Cicely said, leading the visitor up the steps.</p> + +<p>The white-haired man and the tall woman who had been waiting within, +came forward.<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a></p> + +<p>“Grandpa,” said Cicely, by way of introduction. “And Aunt Sabrina.”</p> + +<p>“My father, Judge Abercrombie,” said the tall lady, correctingly. Then +she put her arms round Eve and kissed her. “You are very welcome, my +dear. But how cold your hands are, even through your gloves! Dilsey, +make a fire.”</p> + +<p>“I am not cold,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>But she looked so ill that the judge hastily offered her his arm.</p> + +<p>She did not accept it. “It is nothing,” she said. Anger now came to her +aid, Cicely’s announcement had stunned her. “I am perfectly well,” she +went on, in a clear voice. “It has been a long voyage, and that, you +know, is tiresome. But now that it is over, I shall soon be myself +again, and able to continue my journey.”</p> + +<p>“Continue! Are you going any further, then?” inquired Miss Abercrombie, +mildly. “I had hoped—we have all hoped—that you would spend a long +time with us.” Miss Abercrombie had a soft voice with melancholy +cadences; her tones had no rising inflections; all her sentences died +gently away.</p> + +<p>“You are very kind. It will be impossible,” Miss Bruce responded, +briefly.</p> + +<p>While speaking these words they had passed down the hall and entered a +large room on the right. A negro woman on her knees was hastily lighting +a fire on the hearth, and, in another moment, the brilliant blaze, +leaping up, made a great cheer. Cicely had disappeared. Judge +Abercrombie, discomfited by the visitor’s manner, rolled forward an +arm-chair vaguely, and then stood rubbing his hands by the fire, while +his daughter began to untie Miss Bruce’s bonnet strings.<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a></p> + +<p>“Thanks; I will not take it off now. Later, when I go to my room.” And +the visitor moved away from the friendly fingers. Miss Sabrina was very +near-sighted. She drew her eye-glasses furtively from her pocket, and, +turning her back for an instant, put them on; she wished to have a +clearer view of John Bruce’s sister. She saw before her a woman of +thirty (as she judged her to be; in reality Eve was twenty-eight), tall, +broad-shouldered, slender, with golden hair and a very white face. The +eyes were long and rather narrow; they were dark blue in color, and they +were not pleasant eyes—so Miss Sabrina thought; their expression was +both angry and cold. The cheeks were thin, the outline of the features +bold. The mouth was distinctly ugly, the full lips prominent, the +expression sullen. At this moment Cicely entered, carrying a little +child, a boy of two years, attired only in his little white night-gown; +his blue eyes were brilliant with excitement, his curls, rumpled by +sleep, was flattened down on one side of his head and much fluffed up on +the other. The young mother came running across the slippery floor, and +put him into Miss Bruce’s arms. “There he is,” she said—“there’s your +little Jack. He knows you; I have talked to him about you scores of +times.”</p> + +<p>The child, half afraid, put up a dimpled hand and stroked Eve’s cheek. +“Auntie?” he lisped, inquiringly. Then, after inspecting her carefully, +still keeping up the gentle little stroke, he announced with decision, +“Ess; Aunty Eve!”</p> + +<p>Eve drew him close, and hid her face on his bright hair. Then she rose +hurriedly, holding him in her arms, and, with an involuntary motion, +moved away<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a> from Cicely, looking about the room as if in search of +another place, and finally taking refuge beside Miss Sabrina, drawing a +low chair towards her with the same unseeing action and sinking into it, +the baby held to her breast.</p> + +<p>Tall Miss Sabrina seemed to understand; she put one arm round their +guest. Cicely, thus deserted, laughed. Then she went to her grandfather, +put her arm in his, and they left the room together. When the door had +closed after them, Eve raised her eyes. “He is the image of Jack!” she +said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know it,” answered Miss Sabrina. “And I knew how it would affect +you, my dear. But I think it is a comfort that he does look like him; +don’t you? And now you must not talk any more about going away, but stay +here with us and love him.”</p> + +<p>“Stay!” said Eve. She rose, and made a motion as if she were going to +give the child to her companion. But little Jack put up his hand again, +and stroked her cheek; he was crooning meanwhile to himself composedly a +little song of his own invention; it was evident that he would never be +afraid of her again. Eve kissed him. “Do you think she would give him to +me?” she asked, hungrily. “She cannot care for him—not as I do.”</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina drew herself up (in the excess of her sympathy, as well as +near-sightedness, she had been leaning so far forward that her flat +breast had rested almost on her knees). “Give up her child—her own +child? My niece? I think not; I certainly think not.” She took off her +glasses and put them in her pocket decisively.</p> + +<p>“Then I shall take him from her. And you must<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a> help me. What will she +care in a month from now—a year? She has already forgotten his father.”</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina was still angry. But she herself had not liked her niece’s +second marriage. “The simplest way would be to stay here for the +present,” she said, temporizing.</p> + +<p>“Stay here? Now? How can you ask it?”</p> + +<p>Tears rose in the elder lady’s eyes; she began to wipe them away +clandestinely one by one with her long taper finger. “It’s a desolate +place now, I know; but it’s very peaceful. The garden is pretty. And we +hoped that you wouldn’t mind. We even hoped that you would like it a +little—the child being here. We would do all we could. Of course I know +it isn’t much.”</p> + +<p>These murmured words in the melancholy voice seemed to rouse in Eve +Bruce an even more stormy passion than before. She went to Miss Sabrina +and took hold of her shoulder. “Do you think I can stand seeing <i>him</i>,” +she demanded—“here—in Jack’s place? If I could, I would go to-night.” +Turning away, she broke into tearless sobs. “Oh Jack—Jack—”</p> + +<p>Light dawned at last in Sabrina Abercrombie’s mind. “You mean Mr. +Morrison?” she said, hurriedly rising. “You didn’t know, then? Cicely +didn’t tell you?”</p> + +<p>“She told me that she had married again; nothing more. Six months ago. +She let me come here—you let me come here—without knowing it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I thought you knew it,” said Miss Sabrina, in distress. “I did not +like the marriage myself, Miss Bruce; I assure you I did not. I was very +fond of John, and it seemed too sudden. If she had only<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a> waited the +year—and two years would have been so much more appropriate. I go there +very often—to John’s grave—indeed I do; it is as dear to me as the +graves of my own family, and I keep the grass cut very carefully; I will +show you. You remember when I wrote you that second time? I feared it +then, though I was not sure, and I tried to prepare you a little by +saying that the baby was now your chief interest, naturally. And <i>he</i> +wasn’t going to be married,” she added, becoming suddenly incoherent, +and taking hold of her throat with little rubs of her thumb and +forefinger as Eve’s angry eyes met hers; “at least, not that we knew. I +did not say more, because I was not sure, Miss Bruce. But after it had +really happened, I supposed of course that Cicely wrote to you.”</p> + +<p>“She!”</p> + +<p>“But Mr. Morrison is not here; he is not here, and never has been. She +met him in Savannah, and married him there; it was at a cousin’s. But +she only stayed with him for a few months, and we fear that it is not a +very happy marriage. He is in South America at present, and you know how +far away that is. I haven’t the least idea when he is coming back.”</p> + +<p>The door at the end of the room opened. Cicely’s little figure appeared +on the threshold. Miss Sabrina, who seemed to know who it was by +intuition, as she could see nothing at that distance, immediately began +to whisper. “Of course we don’t <i>know</i> that it is an unhappy marriage; +but as she came back to us so soon, it struck us so—it made that +impression; wouldn’t it have made the same upon you? She must have +suffered extremely, and so we ought to be<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a> doubly kind to her.” And she +laid her hand with a warning pressure on Eve’s arm.</p> + +<p>“I am not likely to be unkind as long as there is the slightest hope of +getting this child away from her,” answered Eve. “For she is the mother, +isn’t she? She couldn’t very well have palmed off some other baby on +you, for Jack himself was here then, I know. Oh, you needn’t be afraid, +I shall defer to her, yield to her, grovel to her!” She bent her head +and kissed the baby’s curls. But her tone was so bitter that poor Miss +Sabrina shrank away.</p> + +<p>Cicely had called to them, “Supper is ready.” She remained where she was +at the end of the long room, holding the door open with her hand.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II.</h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> father of John and Eva Bruce was an officer in the United States +army. His wife had died when Eve was born. Captain Bruce brought up his +children as well as he could; he would not separate himself from them, +and so he carried them about with him to the various military stations +to which he was ordered. When his boy was sixteen, an opportunity +presented itself to him: an old friend, Thomas Ashley, who was +established, and well established, in London, offered to take the lad, +finish his education, and then put him into the house, as he called it, +the house being the place of business of the wealthy English-American +shipping firm to which he had the good-fortune to belong.</p> + +<p>Captain Bruce did not hesitate. Jack was sent across the seas. Eve, who +was then ten years old,<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a> wept desperately over the parting. Six years +later she too went to England. Her father had died, and, young as she +was, her determination to go to her brother was so strong that nothing +could stand against it. During the six years of separation Jack had +returned to America twice to see his father and sister; the tie between +the three had not been broken by absence, but only made stronger. The +girl had lived a concentrated life, therefore an isolated one. She had +had her own way on almost all occasions. It was said of her, “Any one +can see that she has been brought up by a man!” In reality there were +two men; for Jack had seemed to her a man when he was only twelve years +old. Her father gone, her resolve to go to Jack was, as has been said, +so strong that nothing could stand against it. But in truth there was +little to oppose to it, and few to oppose her; no one, indeed, who could +set up anything like the force of will which she was exhibiting on the +other side. She had no near relatives; as for her father’s old friends, +she rode over them.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to let her go; she puts out her mouth so!” said Mrs. Mason, +the colonel’s wife, at last. The remark, as to its form, was incoherent; +but everybody at the post understood her. At sixteen, then, Eve Bruce +was sent to England. As soon as she was able she took a portion of the +property which came to her from her mother, to make a comfortable home +for Jack. For Jack had only his salary, and it was not a large one. He +had made himself acceptable in the house, and in due time he was to have +a small share of the profits; but the due time was not yet, and would +not be for some years. His father’s old friend, who had been his friend +also,<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a> as well as his sponsor in the firm, had died. But his widow, who +liked the young American—she was an American herself, though long +expatriated—continued to extend to him much kindness; and, when his +sister came over, she included her in the invitations. Eve did not care +much for these opportunities, nor for the other opportunities that +followed in their train; occasionally she went to a dinner; but she +found her best pleasure in being with her brother alone. They remained +in London all the year round, save for six weeks in August and +September. Eve could have paid many a visit in the country during the +autumn and winter; but their small, ugly house near Hans Place was more +beautiful in her eyes, Jack being there, than the most picturesque +cottage with a lawn and rose garden, or even than an ivy-grown mansion +in a deer-haunted park.</p> + +<p>Thus brother and sister lived on for eight years. Then one morning, +early in 1864, Jack, who had chafed against his counting-house chains +ever since the April of Sumter, broke them short off; he too had a +determined mouth. “I can’t stand it any longer, Eve; I am going home. +Fortunately you are provided for, or I couldn’t. I shall lose my place +here, of course; but I don’t care. Go I must.” A week later he sailed +for New York. And he was soon in the army. “Blood will tell,” said his +father’s regimental companions—the few who were left.</p> + +<p>Eve, in London, now began to lead that life of watching the telegraphic +despatches and counting the days for letters which was the lot of +American women during those dark times of war. She remained in London, +because it was understood between<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a> them that Jack was to return. But she +rented their house, and lived in lodgings near by, so as to have all the +more money ready for him when he should come back.</p> + +<p>But Jack did not come back. When the war reached its end, he wrote that +he was going to be married; she was a Southern girl—he was even +particular as to her name and position: Cicely Abercrombie, the +granddaughter of Judge Abercrombie of Abercrombie’s Island. Eve scarcely +read these names; she had stopped at “marry.”</p> + +<p>He did marry Cicely Abercrombie in October of that year, 1865.</p> + +<p>He wrote long letters to his sister; he wished her to come out and join +them. He had leased two of the abandoned cotton plantations—great +things could be done in cotton now—and he was sure that he should make +his fortune. Eve, overwhelmed with her disappointment and her grief, +wrote and rewrote her brief replies before she could succeed in filling +one small sheet without too much bitterness; for Jack was still Jack, +and she loved him. He had never comprehended the exclusiveness, the +jealousy of her affection; he had accepted her devotion and enjoyed it, +but he had believed, without thinking much about it at any time, that +all sisters were like that. In urging her, therefore, to join them, he +did not in the least suspect that the chief obstacle lay in that very +word “them,” of which he was so proud. To join “them,” to see some one +else preferred; where she had been first, to take humbly a second place! +And who could tell whether this girl was worthy of him? Perhaps the +bitterest part of the suffering would be to see Jack himself befooled, +belittled.<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a> The sister, wretchedly unhappy, allowed it to be supposed, +without saying so—it was Jack who suggested it—that she would come +later; after she had disposed of the lease of their house, and sold +their furniture to advantage. In time the furniture was sold, but not to +advantage. The money which she had taken from her capital to make a +comfortable home for her brother was virtually lost.</p> + +<p>Presently it was only a third place that could be offered to her, for, +during the next winter, Jack wrote joyfully to announce the birth of a +son. He had not made his fortune yet; but he was sure to do so the next +year. The next year he died.</p> + +<p>Then Eve wrote, for the first time, to Cicely.</p> + +<p>In reply she received a long letter from Cicely’s aunt, Sabrina +Abercrombie, giving, with real grief, the particulars of Jack’s last +hours. He had died of the horrible yellow-fever. Eve was ill when the +letter reached her; her illness lasted many months, and kind-hearted +Mrs. Ashley took her, almost by force, to her place in the country, +beautiful Hayling Hall, in Warwickshire. When at last she was able to +hold a pen, Eve wrote again to Cicely; only a few lines (her first +epistle had not been much longer); still, a letter. The reply was again +from Miss Abercrombie, and, compared with her first communication, it +was short and vague. The only definite sentences were about the child; +“for <i>he</i> is the one in whom you are most interested, <i>naturally</i>,” she +wrote, under-scoring the “he” and the “naturally” with a pale line; the +whole letter, as regards ink, was very pale.</p> + +<p>And now Eve Bruce had this child. And she determined, with all the +intensity of her strong will, of her burning, jealous sorrow, that he +should be hers<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a> alone. With such a mother as Cicely there was everything +to hope.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III.</h2> + +<p>W<small>HILE</small> the meal, which Cicely had announced as supper, was going on in +the dining-room, Meadows was occupying herself in her accustomed evening +effort to bring her mistress’s abiding-place for the night, wherever it +might happen to be, into as close a resemblance to an English bedroom as +was, under the circumstances, possible. The resemblance had not been +striking, so far, with all her toil, there having been something +fundamentally un-English both in the cabins of the <i>Ville de Havre</i> and +in the glittering salons which served as bedrooms in the Hotel of the +Universe in New York. The Savannah boat had been no better, nor the +shelf with a roof over it of the little <i>Altamaha</i>; on the steamer of +the Inland Route her struggle had been with an apartment seven feet +long; here at Romney it was with one which had six times that amount of +perspective.</p> + +<p>A fire, freshly lighted, flared on the hearth, the spicy odor of its +light wood still filling the air. And there was air enough to fill, for +not one of the doors nor of the row of white windows which opened to the +floor fitted tightly in its casing; there were wide cracks everywhere, +and Meadows furthermore discovered, to her horror, that the windows had +sashes which came only part of the way down, the lower half being closed +by wooden shutters only. She barred these apertures as well as she could +(some of the bars were gone), and then tried to draw the<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a> curtains; but +these muslin protections, when they reached the strong current of air +which came through the central crack of the shutters, were blown out +towards the middle of the room like so many long white ghosts. Meadows +surveyed them with a sigh; with a sigh she arranged the contents of Miss +Bruce’s dressing-bag on the outlandish bare toilet-table; she placed the +slippers by the fire and drew forward the easiest chair. But when all +was done the room still remained uncomfortably large, and uncomfortably +empty. Outside, the wind whistled, the near sea gave out a booming +sound; within, the flame of the candle flared now here, now there, in +the counter-draughts that swept the room.</p> + +<p>“It certainly is the farawayest place!” murmured the English girl.</p> + +<p>There came a sound at the door; not a knock, but a rub across the +panels. This too was alarming. Meadows kept the door well bolted, and +called fearfully, “Who’s there?”</p> + +<p>“It’s ony me—Powlyne,” answered a shrill voice. “I’s come wid de wines; +Miss S’breeny, she sont me.”</p> + +<p>The tones were unmistakably feminine; Meadows drew back the bolt and +peeped out. A negro girl of twelve stood there, bearing a tray which +held a decanter and wineglass; her wool was braided in little tails, +which stood out like short quills; her one garment was a calico dress, +whose abbreviated skirt left her bare legs visible from the knees +down-ward.</p> + +<p>“Do you want to come in?” said Meadows. “I can take it.” And she +stretched out her hand for the tray.</p> + +<p>“Miss S’breeny she done tole me to put ‘em myse’<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>f on de little table +close ter der bed,” answered Powlyne, craning her neck to look into the +room.</p> + +<p>Meadows opened the door a little wider, and Powlyne performed her +office. Seeing that she was very small and slight, the English girl +recovered courage.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you live here?” she suggested.</p> + +<p>“Yass, ’m.”</p> + +<p>“And when there isn’t any one else ’andy, they send you?”</p> + +<p>“Dey sonds me when dey wanster, I’s Miss S’breeny’s maid,” answered +Powlyne, digging her bare heel into the matting.</p> + +<p>“Her maid?—for gracious sake! What can <i>you</i> do?”</p> + +<p>“Tuckenoffener shoes. <i>En</i> stockin’s.”</p> + +<p>“Tuckenoffener?”</p> + +<p>“Haul’em off. Yass,’m.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if I hever!” murmured Meadows, surveying this strange coadjutor, +from the erect tails of wool to the bare black toes.</p> + +<p>There was a loud groan in the hall outside. Meadows started.</p> + +<p>“Unc’ Abram, I spec, totin’ up de wood,” said Powlyne.</p> + +<p>“Is he ill?”</p> + +<p>“Ill!” said the child, contemptuously. “He’s dat dair sassy ter-night!”</p> + +<p>“Is he coming in here? Oh, don’t go away!” pleaded Meadows. She had a +vision of another incursion of black men in bathing costumes.</p> + +<p>But Uncle Abram was alone, and he was very polite; he bowed even before +he put the wood down, and several times afterwards. “Dey’s cookin’ +suppah for yer, miss,” he announced, hospitably. “Dey’ll<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a> be fried +chickens en fixin’s; en hot biscuits; en jell; en coffee.”</p> + +<p>“I should rather have tea, if it is equally convenient,” said Meadows, +after a moment’s hesitation.</p> + +<p>“Dere, now, doan yer <i>like</i> coffee?” inquired Uncle Abram, looking at +her admiringly. For it was such an extraordinary dislike that only very +distinguished people could afford to have it. “Fer my part,” he went on, +gazing meditatively at the fire which he had just replenished, “I ’ain’t +nebber had ’nuff in all my borned days—no, not et one time. Pints +wouldn’t do me. Ner yet korts. I ’ain’t nebber had a gallion.”</p> + +<p>Voices were now heard in the hall. Cicely entered, followed by Eve +Bruce.</p> + +<p>“All the darkies on the island will be coming to look at her to-morrow,” +said Cicely, after Meadows had gone to her supper; “they’ll be immensely +stirred up about her. She’s still afraid—did you see?—she kept as far +away as she could from poor old Uncle Abram as she went down the hall. +The field hands will be too much for her; some of the little nigs have +no clothes at all.”</p> + +<p>“She won’t see them; she goes to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“That’s as you please; if I were you, I would keep her. They will bring +a mattress in here for her presently; perhaps she has never slept on the +floor?”</p> + +<p>“I dare say not. But she can for once.”</p> + +<p>Cicely went to one of the windows; she opened the upper half of the +shutter and looked out. “How the wind blows! Jupiter Light shines right +into your room.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I can see it from here,” said Eve. “It’s a<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a> good companion—always +awake.” She was speaking conventionally; she had spoken conventionally +through the long supper, and the effort had tired her: she was not in +the least accustomed to concealing her thoughts.</p> + +<p>“Always awake. Are <i>you</i> always awake?” said Cicely, returning to the +fire.</p> + +<p>“I? What an idea!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; you look like it.”</p> + +<p>“I must look very tired, then?”</p> + +<p>“You do.”</p> + +<p>“Fortunately you do not,” answered Eve, coldly. For there was something +singularly fresh about Cicely; though she had no color, she always +looked fair and perfectly rested, as though she had just risen from a +refreshing sleep. “I suppose you have never felt tired, really tired, in +all your life?” Eve went on.</p> + +<p>“N—no; I don’t know that I have ever felt <i>tired</i>, exactly,” Cicely +answered, emphasizing slightly the word “tired.”</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> have always had so many servants to do everything for you,” Eve +responded, explaining herself a little.</p> + +<p>“We haven’t many now; only four. And they help in the fields whenever +they can—all except Dilsey, who stays with Jack.”</p> + +<p>Again the name. Eve felt that she must overcome her dread of it. “Jack +is very like his father,” she said, loudly and decidedly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Cicely. Then, after a pause, “Your brother was much +older than I.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jack was <i>young</i>!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean that he was really old, he hadn’t<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a> gray hair. But he was +thirty-one when we were married, and I was sixteen.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose no one forced you to marry him?” said the sister, the flash +returning to her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense!”</p> + +<p>“I mean he did—Jack himself did. I thought that perhaps you would feel +so.”</p> + +<p>“Feel how?”</p> + +<p>“Why, that we made him—that we tried, or that I tried. And so I have +brought some of his letters to show you.” She took a package from her +pocket and laid it on the mantelpiece. “You needn’t return them; you can +burn them after reading.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, probably,” answered Eve, incoherently. She felt choked with her +anger and grief.</p> + +<p>There was a murmuring sound in the hall, and Miss Sabrina, pushing the +door open with her foot, entered apologetically, carrying a jar of +dark-blue porcelain, ornamented with vague white dragons swallowing +their tails. The jar was large; it extended from her knees to her chin, +which rested upon its edge with a singular effect. “My dear,” she said, +“I’ve brought you some po-purry; your room hasn’t been slept in for some +time, though I <i>hope</i> it isn’t musty.”</p> + +<p>The jar had no handles; she had difficulty in placing it upon the high +chest of drawers. Eve went to her assistance. And then Miss Sabrina +perceived that their guest was crying. Eve changed the jar’s position +two or three times. Miss Sabrina said, each time, “Yes, yes; it is much +better so.” And, furtively, she pressed Eve’s hand.</p> + +<p>Jack Bruce’s wife, meanwhile—forgotten Jack—<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>stood by the hearth, +gazing at the fire. She was a little creature, slight and erect, with a +small head, small ears, small hands and feet. Yet somehow she did not +strike one as short; one thought of her as having the full height of her +kind, and even as being tall for so small a person. This effect was due, +no doubt, to her slender litheness; she was light and cool as the wind +at dawn, untrammelled by too much womanhood. Her features were delicate; +the oval of her face was perfect, her complexion a clear white without +color. Her lustreless black hair, very fine and soft, was closely +braided, the plaits arranged at the back of the head as flatly as +possible, like a tightly fitting cap. Her great dark eyes with long +curling lashes were very beautiful. They had often an absent-minded +look. Under them were bluish rings. Slight and smooth as she was—the +flesh of her whole body was extraordinarily smooth, as though it had +been rubbed with pumice-stone—she yet seemed in one way strong and +unyielding. She was quiet in her looks, in her actions, in her tones.</p> + +<p>Eve had now choked down her tears.</p> + +<p>“I sent Powlyne with some cherry-bounce,” said Miss Sabrina, giving +Eve’s hand, secretly, a last pressure, as they came back to the hearth. +“Your maid will find it—such a nice, worthy person as she seems to be, +too; so generally desirable all round. If she is really to leave you +to-morrow, you must have some one else. Let me see—”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want any one, thanks,” Eve answered. Two spots of color rose in +her cheeks. “That is, I don’t want any one unless I can have Jack?” She +turned to Cicely, who still stood gazing at the fire. “May Jack sleep +here?”<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a></p> + +<p>“With Dilsey?” said Cicely, lifting her eyes with a surprised glance.</p> + +<p>“Yes, with Dilsey. The room is large.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure I don’t care; yes, if you like. He cries at night sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“I hope he will,” responded Eve, and her tone was almost fierce. “Then I +can comfort him.”</p> + +<p>“Dilsey does that better than any one else; he is devoted to her; when +he cries, I never interfere,” said Cicely, laughing.</p> + +<p>Eve bit her lips to keep back the retort, “But <i>I</i> shall!”</p> + +<p>“It is a sweet idea,” said Miss Sabrina, in her chanting voice. “It is +sweet of Miss Bruce to wish to have him, and sweet of you, Cicely, to +let him go. We can arrange a little nursery at the other end of this +room to-morrow; there’s a chamber beyond, where no one sleeps, and the +door could be opened through, if you like. I am sure it will be very +nice all round.”</p> + +<p>Eve turned and kissed her. Cicely pushed back a burning log with her +foot, and laughed again, this time merrily. “It seems so funny, your +having the baby in here at night, just like a mother, when you haven’t +been married at all. Now I have been married twice. To be sure, I never +meant to be!”</p> + +<p>“My precious child!” Miss Sabrina remonstrated.</p> + +<p>“No, auntie, I never did. It came about,” Cicely answered, her eyes +growing absent again and returning to the fire.</p> + +<p>Meadows now came in with deferential step, and presently she was +followed by her own couch, which Uncle Abram spread out, in the shape of +a mattress, on the floor. The English girl looked on, amazed.<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a> But this +was a house of amazements; it was like a Drury Lane pantomime.</p> + +<p>Later, when the girl was asleep, Eve rose, and, taking the package of +letters, which she had put under her pillow, she felt for a candle and +matches, thrust her feet into her slippers, and, with her dressing-gown +over her arm, stole to the second door; it opened probably into the +unoccupied chamber of which Miss Sabrina had spoken. The door was not +locked; she passed through, closing it behind her. Lighting her candle, +she looked about her. The room was empty, the floor bare. She put her +candle on the floor, and, kneeling down beside it, opened the letters. +There were but four; apparently Cicely had thought that four would be +enough to confirm what she had said. They were enough. More passionate, +more determined letters man never wrote to woman; they did not plead so +much as insist; they compelled by sheer force of persistent +unconquerable love, which accepts anything, bears anything, to gain even +tolerance.</p> + +<p>And this was Jack, her brother Jack, who had thus prostrated himself at +the feet of that indifferent little creature, that cold, small, dark +girl who already bore another name! She was angry with him. Then the +anger faded away into infinite pity. “Oh, Jack, dear old Jack, to have +loved her so, she caring nothing for you! And I am to burn your poor +letters that you thought so much about—your poor, poor letters.” +Sinking down upon the floor, she placed the open pages upon her knees, +laying her cheek upon them as though they had been something human. +“Some one cares for you,” she murmured.</p> + +<p>There was now a wild gale outside. One of the<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a> shutters was open, and +she could see Jupiter Light; she sat there, with her cheek on the +letters, looking at it.</p> + +<p>Suddenly everything seemed changed, she no longer wept; she felt +sluggish, cold. “Don’t I care any more?” she thought, surprised. She +rose and went back to her bed, glad to creep into its warmth, and +leaving the letters on a chair by her bedside. Then, duly, she put them +under her pillow again.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV.</h2> + +<p>O<small>N</small> Christmas Day, Eve was out with little Jack and Dilsey. Dilsey was a +negro woman of sixty, small and thin, with a wise, experienced face; she +increased her dignity as much as she could by a high stiff white turban, +but the rest of her attire was poor and old, though she was not +bare-legged like Powlyne; she wore stockings and shoes. Little Jack’s +wagon was a rude cart with solid wooden wheels; but the hoops of its +hood had been twined with holly by the negroes, so that the child’s face +was enshrined in a bower of green.</p> + +<p>“We will go to the sea,” said Eve. “Unless it is too far for you and the +wagon?”</p> + +<p>“No, ’m; push ’em easy ’nuff.”</p> + +<p>The narrow road, passing between unbroken thickets of glittering +evergreen bushes, breast-high, went straight towards the east, like an +unroofed tunnel; in twenty minutes it brought them to the shore. The +beach, broad, firm, and silver white, stretched towards the north and +the south, dotted here and there with drift-wood; a breeze from the +water touched<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a> their cheeks coolly; the ocean was calm, little +foam-crested wavelets coming gurgling up to curl over and flatten +themselves out on the wet sand. “Do you see it, Jack?” said Eve, +kneeling down by the wagon. “It’s the sea, the great big sea.”</p> + +<p>But Jack preferred to blow his whistle, and that done, he proceeded to +examine it carefully, putting his little fat forefinger into all the +holes. Eve sat down on the sand beside him; if he scorned the sea, for +the moment she did too.</p> + +<p>“I’s des sauntered ober, Dilsey; dey ’ain’t no hurry ‘bout comin’ back,” +said a voice. “En I ’low’d miss might be tired, so I fotched a cheer.” +It was old Temp’rance, the cook.</p> + +<p>“Did you bring that chair all the way for me?” asked Eve, surprised.</p> + +<p>“Yass, ’m. It’s sut’ny pleasant here; it sut’ny is.”</p> + +<p>“I am much obliged; but I shall be going back soon.”</p> + +<p>The two old women looked at each other. “Dat dere ole wrack down der +beach is moughty cu’us—ef yer like ter walk dat way en see ’em?” +suggested Dilsey, after a pause.</p> + +<p>“Too far,” said Eve.</p> + +<p>Both of the old women declared that it was very near. The wind +freshened; Eve, who had little Jack in her arms, feared lest he might +take cold, thinly clad as he was—far too thinly for her Northern +ideas—with only one fold of linen and his little white frock over his +breast. She drew the skirt of her dress over his bare knees. Then after +a while she rose and put him in his wagon. “We will go back,” she said.<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a></p> + +<p>Again the two old women looked at each other. But they were afraid of +the Northern lady; the munificent presents which she had given them that +morning did not bring them any nearer to her. Old Temp’rance, therefore, +shouldered her chair again, Dilsey turned the wagon, and they entered +the bush-bordered tunnel on their way home, walking as slowly as they +could. In only one place was there an opening through the serried green; +here a track turned off to the right. When Eve had passed its entrance +the first time, there was nothing to be seen but another perspective of +white sand and glittering foliage; but on their return her eyes, +happening to glance that way, perceived a group of figures at the end. +“Who are those people?—what are they doing?” she said, pausing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nutt’n,” answered Temp’rance. “Des loungjun roun’.”</p> + +<p>As Eve still stood looking, Uncle Abram emerged from the bushes. “Shall +I kyar your palasol fer yer, miss?” he asked, officiously. “‘Pears like +yer mus’ be tired; been so fur.”</p> + +<p>Eve now comprehended that the three were trying to keep something from +her. “What has happened?” she said. “Tell me immediately.”</p> + +<p>“Dey’ ain’ nutt’n happen,” answered Uncle Abram, desperately; “dey’s too +brash, dem two! Miss S’breeny she ’low’d dat yer moutn’t like ter see +her go a moanin’, miss; en so she tole us not ter let yer come dishyer +way ef we could he’p it. But dem two—dey’s boun’ ter do some fool ting. +It’s a cohesion of malice ’mong women—’tis dat!”</p> + +<p>“Does that road lead to the cemetery, too?” said Eve. “I went by another +way. Take baby home,<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a> Dilsey”—she stooped and kissed him; “I will join +Miss Abercrombie.” She walked rapidly down the side track; the three +blacks stood watching her, old Temp’rance with the chair poised on her +turban.</p> + +<p>The little burying-ground was surrounded by an old brick wall; its high +gate-posts were square, each surmounted by a clumsy funeral urn. The +rusty iron gate was open, and a procession was passing in. First came +Miss Sabrina in her bonnet, an ancient structure of large size, trimmed +with a black ribbon; the gentle lady, when out-of-doors, was generally +seen in what she called her “flat;” the presence of the bonnet, +therefore, marked a solemn occasion. She likewise wore a long scarf, +which was pinned, with two pins, low down on her sloping shoulders, its +broché ends falling over her gown in front; her hands were encased in +black kid gloves much too large for her, the kid wrists open and +flapping. Behind her came Powlyne, Pomp, and Plato, carrying wreaths of +holly. Eve drew near noiselessly, and paused outside. Miss Sabrina first +knelt down, bowing her head upon her hands for a moment; then, rising, +she took the wreaths one by one, and arranged them upon the graves, the +three blacks following her. When she had taken the last, she signed to +them to withdraw; they went out quietly, each turning at the gate to +make a reverential bow, partly to her, partly to the circle of the dead. +Eve now entered the enclosure, and Miss Sabrina saw her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear! I didn’t intend that <i>you</i> should come,” she said, +distressed.</p> + +<p>“And why not? I have been here before; and my brother is here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but to-day—to-day is different.”<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a></p> + +<p>Eve looked at the graves; she perceived that three of them were decked +with small Confederate flags.</p> + +<p>“Our dear cousins,” said Miss Sabrina; “they died for their country, and +on Memorial Day, Christmas Day, and Easter I like to pay them such small +honor as I can. I am in the habit of singing a hymn before I go; don’t +stay, my dear, if it jars upon you.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t,” said Eve. She had seated herself on the grass beside her +brother’s grave, with her arm laid over it.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina turned her back and put on her glasses. Then, resuming her +original position, she took a small prayer-book from her pocket, opened +it, and, after an apologetic cough, began:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Thy better portion trace.”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Eve, sitting there, looked at her. Miss Sabrina was tall and slender; +she had once been pretty, but now her cheeks were wan, her eyes faded, +her soft brown hair was very thin. She had but a thread of a voice.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“There is everlasting peace,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Rest, enduring rest, in heaven,”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">she sang in her faint, sweet tones; and when she came to the words, +“There will sorrows ever cease,” she raised her poor dim eyes towards +the sky with such a beautiful expression of hope in them that the +younger woman began to realize that there might be acute griefs even +when people were so mild and acquiescent, so dimly hued and submissive, +as was this meek Southern gentlewoman.</p> + +<p>The hymn finished, Miss Sabrina put her prayer-book in her pocket, and +came forward. “My mother,” she said, touching one of the tombs. “My +grandfather<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a> and grandmother. My brother Marmaduke, Cicely’s father. +Cicely’s mother; she was a Northerner, and we have sometimes thought +Cicely rather Northern.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!”</p> + +<p>“Well, her grandmother was from Guadeloupe. So perhaps that balances +it.”</p> + +<p>The older tombs were built of brick, each one covered with a heavy +marble slab, upon which were inscribed, in stately old-fashioned +language, and with old-fashioned arrangement of lines and capitals, the +names, the virtues, and the talents of the one who lay beneath. The +later graves were simple grassy mounds.</p> + +<p>“My brother Augustus; my great-uncle William Drayton; my aunt Pamela,” +Miss Sabrina continued, indicating each tomb as she named its occupant, +much as though she were introducing them. “My own place is already +selected; it is here,” she went on, tapping a spot with her slender +foot. “It seems to me a good place; don’t you think so? And I keep an +envelope, with directions for everything, on top of my collars, where +any one can find it; for I do so dislike an ill-arranged funeral. For +instance, I particularly desire that there should be fresh water and +glasses on the hall-table, where every one can get them without asking; +<i>so</i> much better than hidden in some back room, with every one +whispering and hunting about after them. I trust you don’t mind my +saying,” she concluded, looking at Eve kindly, “that I hope you may be +here.”</p> + +<p>They left the cemetery together.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it was a shock to you that your niece should marry a Union +officer?” Eve said, as they took the shorter path towards the house.<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a></p> + +<p>“Ye-es, I cannot deny it; and to my father also. But we liked John for +himself very much; and Cicely felt—”</p> + +<p>But John’s sister did not care to hear what Cicely felt! “And was it on +this island that he expected to make his fortune—in cotton?”</p> + +<p>“No; these are rice lands, and they are worthless now that the dikes are +down.”</p> + +<p>“And the slaves gone.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. But we never had many slaves; we were never rich. Now we are very +poor, my dear; I don’t know that any one has mentioned it to you.”</p> + +<p>“And yet you keep on all these infirm old negroes—those who would be +unable to get employment anywhere else.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we should never turn away our old servants,” replied Miss Sabrina, +with confidence.</p> + +<p>That evening, at the judge’s suggestion, Cicely took her guitar. “What +do you want me to sing, grandpa?”</p> + +<p>“‘Sweet Afton.’”</p> + +<p>So Cicely sang it. Then the judge himself sang, to Cicely’s +accompaniment, “They may rail at this life.” He had made a modest bowl +of punch: it was Christmas night, and every one should be merry. So he +sang, in his gallant old voice:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“‘They may rail at this life; from the hour I began it</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I’ve found it a life full of kindness and bliss;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">And until they can show me some happier planet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">More social, more gay, I’ll content me with this.’”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>He was contented with it—this life “full of kindness and bliss,” on his +lonely sea-island, with its broken dikes and desolated fields, in his +half-ruined old<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a> house, with its wooden walls vibrating, with more than +one pane of glass gone, more than one floor whose planks were loosened +so that they must walk carefully. At any rate, he trolled out his song +as though he were: it was Christmas night, and every one should be +merry.</p> + +<p>There was one person who really was merry, and that was Master Jack, who +sat on the lap of his Northern aunt, laughing and crowing, and demanding +recognition of his important presence from each in turn, by the despotic +power of his eye. In truth, it was this little child who held together +the somewhat strangely assorted group, Miss Sabrina in an ancient white +lace cape, with flowers in her hair; the old judge in a dress-coat and +ruffled shirt, Cicely in a gay little gown of light-blue tint (taken +probably, so Eve thought, from her second trousseau), and Eve herself in +her heavy black crape; she alone had made no concessions to Christmas; +her mourning attire was unlightened by any color, or even by white.</p> + +<p>“‘Macgregor’s Gathering,’” called the judge.</p> + +<p>Cicely sang it. After finishing the song, she began the lament a second +time, changing the words:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“We’re niggerless, niggerless, niggerless, Gregorlach!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Niggerless, niggerless, nig-ig-ig-gerless!”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">she sang. “For we’re not ‘landless’ at all; we’ve got miles and miles of +land. It’s niggers that are lacking.”</p> + +<p>The judge laughed, patting her little dark head as she sat on a stool +beside him. “Let us go out to the quarters, grandpa; they will be +dancing by now. And Jack must go too.”<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a></p> + +<p>The judge lifted his great-grandson to his shoulder. Eve had already +noticed that Cicely never took the child from her with her own hands; +she let some one else do it. When the door was opened, distant sounds of +the thrumming of banjoes could be heard. Seeing a possible intention on +Eve’s face, Cicely remarked, in her impersonal way, “Are you coming? +They won’t enjoy it, they are afraid of you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why they should be,” said Eve, when she and Miss Sabrina +were left alone.</p> + +<p>“You are a stranger, my dear; it is only that. And they are all so fond +of Cicely that it wouldn’t be Christmas to them if she did not pay them +a visit; they worship her.”</p> + +<p>“And after she has sung that song!”</p> + +<p>“That song?”</p> + +<p>“‘Niggerless,’” quoted Eve, indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Well, we are niggerless, or nearly so,” said Miss Sabrina, mystified.</p> + +<p>“It’s the word, the term.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you mean nigger? It is very natural to us to say so. I suppose you +prefer negroes? If you like, I will try to call them so hereafter. +Negroes; yes, negroes.” She pronounced it “nig-roes.” “I don’t know +whether I have told you,” she went on, “how much Cicely dislikes +dreams?”</p> + +<p>“Well she may!” was the thought of Jack Bruce’s sister. What she said, +with a short laugh, was, “You had better tell her to be careful about +eating hot breads.”</p> + +<p>“Would you have her eat <i>cold</i> bread?” said Miss Sabina, in surprise. “I +didn’t mean that her nights were disturbed; I only meant that she +dislikes the<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a> <i>telling</i> of dreams—a habit so common at breakfast, you +know. I thought I would just mention it.”</p> + +<p>Eve gave another abrupt laugh. “Do you fear I am going to tell her mine? +She would not find them all of sugar.”</p> + +<p>“I did not mean yours especially. She has such a curious way of shutting +her teeth when people begin—such pretty little white teeth as they are, +too, dear child! And she doesn’t like reading aloud either.”</p> + +<p>“That must be a deprivation to you,” said Eve, her tone more kindly.</p> + +<p>“It is. I have always been extremely fond of it. Are you familiar with +Milton? His ‘Comus’?”</p> + +<p>“‘Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting?” quoted Eve, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Yes.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">”‘Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">In twisted braids of lilies knitting—’”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">said the Southern lady in her murmurous voice. “You don’t know what a +pleasure it has always been to me that I am named Sabrina. The English +originated ‘Comus;’ I like the English, they are so cultivated.”</p> + +<p>“Do you see many of them here?”</p> + +<p>“Not many. I am sorry to say my father does not like them; he thinks +them affected.”</p> + +<p>“That is the last thing I should call them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, those who come here really do say ‘serpents’ and ’crocodiles.’”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean as an oath?” said Eve, thinking vaguely of “Donner und +blitzen.”<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a></p> + +<p>“As an oath? I have never heard it used in that way,” answered Miss +Sabrina, astonished. “I mean that they call the snakes serpents, and the +alligators crocodiles; my father thinks that so very affected.”</p> + +<p>Thus the wan-cheeked mistress of Romney endeavored to entertain their +guest.</p> + +<p>That night Eve was sitting by her fire. The mattress of Meadows was no +longer on the floor; the English girl had started on her return journey +the day before, escorted to the pier by all the blacks of the island, +respectful and wondering. The presence of little Jack asleep in his crib +behind a screen, with Dilsey on her pallet beside him, made the large +wind-swept chamber less lonely; still its occupant felt overwhelmed with +gloom. There was a light tap at the door, and Cicely entered; she had +taken off her gay blue frock, and wore a white dressing-gown. “I thought +I’d see if you were up.” She went across and looked at Jack for a +moment; then she came back to the fire. “You haven’t touched your hair, +nor unbuttoned a button; are you always like that?”</p> + +<p>“Like what?”</p> + +<p>“Trim and taut, like a person going out on horse-back. I should love to +see you with your hair down; I should love to see you run and shriek!”</p> + +<p>“I fear you are not likely to see either.”</p> + +<p>Cicely brought her little teeth together with a click. “I’ve got to get +something over in the north wing; will you come? The wind blows so, it’s +splendid!”</p> + +<p>“I will go if you wish,” said Eve.</p> + +<p>They went down the corridor and turned into another, both of them +lighted by the streaks of moonlight<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a> which came through the half-closed +or broken shutters; the moon was nearly at its full, and very brilliant; +a high wind was careering by outside—it cried at the corner of the +house like a banshee. At the end of the second hall Cicely led the way +through a labyrinth of small dark chambers, now up a step, now down a +step, hither and thither; finally opening a door, she ushered Eve into a +long, high room, lighted on both sides by a double row of windows, one +above the other. Here there were no shutters, and the moonlight poured +in, making the empty space, with its white walls and white floor, as +light as day. “It’s the old ballroom,” said Cicely. “Wait here; I will +be back in a moment.” She was off like a flash, disappearing through a +far door.</p> + +<p>Eve waited, perforce. If she had felt sure that she could find her way +back to her room, she would have gone; but she did not feel sure. As to +leaving Cicely alone in that remote and disused part of the house, at +that late hour of the night, she cared nothing for that; Eve was hard +with people she did not like; she did not realize herself how hard she +was. She went to one of the windows and looked out.</p> + +<p>These lower windows opened on a long veranda. The veranda was only a +foot above the ground; any one, Eve reflected, could cross its uneven +surface and look in; she almost expected to see some one cross, and peer +in at her, his face opposite hers on the other side of the pane. The +moonlight shone on the swaying evergreens; within sight were the waters +of the Sound. Presently she became conscious of a current of wind +blowing through the room, and turned to see what caused it. There had +been no<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a> sound of an opening door, or any other sound, but a figure was +approaching, coming down the moonlit space rapidly with a waving motion. +It was covered with something transparent that glittered and shone; its +outlines were vague. It came nearer and nearer, without a sound. Then a +mass of silvery gauze was thrown back, revealing Cicely attired in an +old-fashioned ball dress made of lace interwoven with silver threads and +decked with little silvery stars; there was a silver belt high up under +her arms, and a wreath of the silvery stars shone in her hair. She stood +a moment; then snatching up the gauze which had fallen at her feet, she +held one end of it, and let the other blow out on the strong cold wind +which now filled the room. With this cloudy streamer in her hand, she +began lightly and noiselessly to dance, moving over the moonlit floor, +now with the gauze blowing out in front of her, now waving behind her as +she flew along. Suddenly she let it drop, and, coming to Eve, put her +arms round her waist and forced her forward. Eve resisted. But Cicely’s +hands were strong, her hold tenacious; she drew her sister-in-law down +the room in a wild gallopade. In the midst of it, giving a little jump, +she seized Eve’s comb. Eve’s hair, already loosened, fell down on her +shoulders. Cicely clapped her hands, and began to take little dancing +steps to the tune of “Niggerless, niggerless, nig-ig-ig-gerless!” +chanted in a silvery voice. When she came to “less,” she held out her +gleaming skirt, and dipped down in a wild little courtesy.</p> + +<p>Eve picked up her comb and turned back towards the door.</p> + +<p>Cicely danced on ahead, humming her song; they<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a> passed through the +labyrinth of dark little rooms, the glimmering dress acting as guide +through the dimness. Cicely went as far as the second hall; here she +stopped.</p> + +<p>“It’s the wind, you know,” she said, in her usual voice; “when it blows +like this, I always have to do something; sometimes I call out and +shout. But I don’t care for it, really; I don’t care for anything!” Her +face, as she spoke, looked set and melancholy. She opened a door and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>The next day there was nothing in her expression to indicate that there +had been another dance at Romney the night before, besides the one at +the negro quarters.</p> + +<p>Eve was puzzled. She had thought her so unimaginative and quiet; “a +passionless, practical little creature, cool and unimpulsive, whose +miniature beauty led poor Jack astray, and made him believe that she had +a soul!” This had been her estimate. She was alone with the baby; she +took him to the window and looked at him earnestly. The little man +smiled back at her, playing with the crape of her dress. No, there was +nothing of Cicely here; the blue eyes, golden hair, and frank smile—all +were his father over again.</p> + +<p>“We’ll make that Mr. Morrison come back, baby; and then you and I will +go away together,” she whispered, stroking his curls.</p> + +<p>“Meh Kiss’m,” said Jack. It was as near as he could come to “Merry +Christmas.”</p> + +<p>“Before another Christmas I’ll get you away from her <i>forever</i>!” +murmured the aunt, passionately.<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V.</h2> + +<p>“O<small>UT</small> rowing? If you are doing it to entertain me—” said Eve.</p> + +<p>“I should never think of that; there’s only one thing here that +entertains you, and that’s baby,” Cicely answered. She spoke without +insistence; her eyes had their absent-minded expression.</p> + +<p>“Cicely, give him to me,” Eve began. She must put her wish into words +some time. “If I could only make you feel how much I long for it! I will +devote my life to him; and it will be a pleasure to me, a charity, +because I am so alone in the world. You are not alone; you have other +ties. Listen, Cicely, I will make any arrangement you like; you shall +always have the first authority, but let me have him to live with me; +let me take him away when I go. I will even acknowledge everything you +have said: my brother <i>was</i> much older than you were; it’s natural that +those months with him should seem to you now but an episode—something +that happened at the beginning of your life, but which need not go on to +its close.”</p> + +<p>“I <i>was</i> young,” said Cicely, musingly.</p> + +<p>“Young to marry—yes.”</p> + +<p>“No; I mean young to have everything ended.”</p> + +<p>“But that is what I am telling you, it must not be ended; Mr. Morrison +must come back to you.”</p> + +<p>“He may,” answered Cicely, looking at her companion for a moment with +almost a solemn expression.<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a></p> + +<p>“Then give baby to me now, and let me go away—before he comes.”</p> + +<p>Cicely glanced off over the water; they were standing on the low bank +above the Sound. “He could not go north now, in the middle of the +winter,” she answered, after a moment.</p> + +<p>“In the early spring, then?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; perhaps.”</p> + +<p>Eve’s heart gave a bound. She was going to gain her point.</p> + +<p>Having been brought up by a man, she had learned to do without the +explanations, the details, which are dear to most feminine minds; so all +she said was, “That’s agreed, then.” She was so happy that a bright +flush rose in her cheeks, and her smile, as she spoke these last few +words, was very sweet; those lips, which Miss Sabrina had thought so +sullen, had other expressions.</p> + +<p>Cicely looked at her. “You may marry too.”</p> + +<p>Eve laughed. “There is no danger. To show you, to make you feel as +secure as I do, I will tell you that there have been one or two—friends +of Jack’s over there. Apparently I am not made of inflammable material.”</p> + +<p>“When you are sullen—perhaps not. But when you are as you are now?”</p> + +<p>“I shall always be sullen to that sort of thing. But we needn’t be +troubled; there won’t be an army! To begin with, I am twenty-eight; and +to end with, every one will know that I have willed my property to baby; +and that makes an immense difference.”</p> + +<p>“How does it make a difference?”</p> + +<p>“In opportunities for marrying, if not also—as I really believe—for +falling in love.”<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a></p> + +<p>“I don’t see what difference it makes.”</p> + +<p>“True, you do not,” Eve replied; “you are the most extraordinary people +in the world, you Southerners; I have been here nearly a month, and I am +still constantly struck by it—you never think of money at all. And the +strangest point is, that although you never think of it, you don’t in +the least know how to get on without it; you cannot improve anything, +you can only endure.”</p> + +<p>“If you will tell Dilsey to get baby ready, I will see to the boat,” +answered Cicely. She was never interested in general questions.</p> + +<p>Presently they were afloat. They were in a large row-boat, with Pomp, +Plato, Uncle Abram, and a field hand at the oars; Cicely steered; Eve +and little Jack were the passengers. The home-island was four miles +long, washed by the ocean on one side, the Sound on the other; on the +north, Singleton Island lay very near; but on the south there was a +broad opening, the next island being six miles distant. Here stood +Jupiter Light; this channel was a sea-entrance not only to the line of +Sounds, but also to towns far inland, for here opened on the west a +great river-mouth, through which flowed to the sea a broad, slow stream +coming from the cotton country. They were all good sailors, as they had +need to be for such excursions, the Sounds being often rough. The bright +winter air, too, was sharp; but Eve was strong, and did not mind it, and +the ladies of Romney, like true Southerners, never believed that it was +really cold, cold as it is at the North. The voyages in the row-boat had +been many; they had helped to fill the days, and the sisters-in-law had +had not much else with which to fill them; they<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a> had remained as widely +apart as in the beginning, Eve absorbed in her own plans, Cicely in her +own indifference. Little Jack was always of the party, as his presence +made dialogue easy. They had floated many times through the salt marshes +between the rattling reeds, they had landed upon other islands, whose +fields, like those of Romney, had once been fertile, but which now +showed submerged expanses behind the broken dikes, with here and there +an abandoned rice-mill. Sometimes they went inland up the river, rowing +slowly against the current; sometimes, when it was calm, they went out +to sea. To-day they crossed to the other side of the Sound.</p> + +<p>“What a long house Romney is!” said Eve, looking back. She did not add, +“And if you drop anything on the floor at one end it shakes the other.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s large,” Cicely answered. She perceived no fault in it.</p> + +<p>“And the name; you know there’s a Romney in Kent?”</p> + +<p>“Is there?”</p> + +<p>“And your post-office, too; when I think of your Warwick, with its one +wooden house, those spectral white sand-hills, the wind, and the tall +light-house, and then when I recall the English Warwick, with its small, +closely built streets, and the great castle looking down into the river +Avon, I wonder if the first-comers here didn’t feel lost sometimes. All +the rivers in central England, put together, would be drowned out of +sight in that great yellow stream of yours over there.”</p> + +<p>But Cicely’s imagination took no flight towards the first-comers, nor +towards the English rivers; and, in another moment, Eve’s had come +hastily homeward,<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a> for little Jack coughed. “He is taking cold!” she +exclaimed. “Let us go back.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a splendid day; he will take no cold,” Cicely answered. “But we +will go back if you wish.” She watched Eve fold a shawl round the little +boy. “You ought to have a child of your own, Eve,” she said, with her +odd little laugh.</p> + +<p>“And you ought never to have had one,” Eve responded.</p> + +<p>As they drew near the landing, they perceived Miss Sabrina on the bank. +“She has on her bonnet! Where can she be going?” said Cicely. “Oh, I +know; she will ask you to row to Singleton Island, to return Mrs. +Singleton’s call.”</p> + +<p>“But Jack looks so pale—”</p> + +<p>“You’re too funny, Eve! How do you suppose we have taken care of him all +this time—before you came?” Eve’s tone was often abrupt, but Cicely’s +was never that; the worst you could say of it was that its sweetness was +sometimes mocking.</p> + +<p>When they reached the landing, Miss Sabrina proposed her visit; “that +is, if you care to go, my dear. Dilsey told me that she saw you coming +back, so I put on my bonnet on the chance.”</p> + +<p>“Eve is going,” remarked Cicely, stepping from the boat; “she wants to +see Rupert, he is such a sweet little boy.”</p> + +<p>Dilsey took Jack, and presently Miss Sabrina and her guest were floating +northward. Eve longed to put her triumph into words: “The baby is mine! +In the spring I am to have him.” But she refrained. “When does your +spring begin?” she asked. “In February?”</p> + +<p>“In March, rather,” answered Miss Sabrina. “Before<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a> that it is dangerous +to make changes; I myself have never been one to put on thin dresses +with the pinguiculas.”</p> + +<p>“What are pinguiculas?—Birds?”</p> + +<p>“They are flowers,” responded Miss Sabrina, mildly.</p> + +<p>“It will be six weeks, then; to-day is the fifteenth.”</p> + +<p>“Six weeks to what?”</p> + +<p>“To March; to spring.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that it begins on the very first day,” remarked Miss +Sabrina.</p> + +<p>“Mine shall!” thought Eve.</p> + +<p>Romney was near the northern end of the home-island; the voyage, +therefore, was a short one. The chimneys of Singleton House came into +view; but the boat passed on, still going northward. “Isn’t that the +house?” Eve asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but the landing is farther on; we always go to the landing, and +then walk back through the avenue.”</p> + +<p>But when the facade appeared at the end of the neglected road—a walk of +fifteen minutes—there seemed to Eve hardly occasion for so much +ceremony; the old mansion was in a worse condition than Romney; it +sidled and leaned, and one of its wings was a roofless ruin, with the +planking of the floor half tilted up, half fallen into the cellar. Miss +Sabrina betrayed no perception of the effect of this upon a stranger; +she crossed the veranda with her lady-like step, and said to a solemn +little negro boy who was standing in the doorway: “Is Mrs. Singleton at +home this evening, Boliver? Can she see us?—Miss Bruce and Miss +Abercrombie.”</p> + +<p>An old negro woman came round the corner of the house, and, cuffing the +boy for standing there,<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a> ushered the visitors into a room on the right +of the broad hall. The afternoon had grown colder, but the doors and +windows all stood open; a negro girl, who bore a strong resemblance to +Powlyne, entered, and chased out a chicken who was prowling about over +the matted floor; then she knelt down, with her long thin black legs +stretched out behind, and tried to light a fire on the hearth. But the +wind was evidently in the wrong direction for the requirements of that +chimney; white smoke puffed into the room in clouds.</p> + +<p>“Let us go out on the veranda,” suggested Eve, half choked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but surely— When they have ushered us in here?” responded Miss +Sabrina, remonstratingly, though she too was nearly strangled. “It will +blow away in a few minutes, I assure you.”</p> + +<p>Much of it still remained when Mrs. Singleton entered. She paid no more +attention to it than Miss Sabrina had done; she welcomed her guests +warmly, kissing Eve on both cheeks, although she had never seen her +before. “I have been so much interested in hearing that you are from +England, Miss Bruce,” she said, taking a seat beside her. “We always +think of England as our old home; I reckon you will see much down here +to remind you of it.”</p> + +<p>Eve looked about her—at the puffing smoke, at the wandering chicken, +who still peered through one of the windows. “I am not English,” she +said.</p> + +<p>“But you have lived there so long; ever since you were a child; surely +it is the same thing,” interposed Miss Sabrina. A faint color rose in +her cheeks for a moment. Eve perceived that she preferred<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a> to present an +English rather than a Northern guest.</p> + +<p>“We are all English, if you come to that,” said Mrs. Singleton, +confidently. She was small, white-haired, with a sweet face, and a sweet +voice that drawled a little.</p> + +<p>“Eve is much interested in our nig-roes,” pursued Miss Sabrina; “you +know to her they are a novelty.”</p> + +<p>“Ah dear, yes, our poor, poor people! When I think of them, Miss Bruce, +scattered and astray, with no one to advise them, it makes my heart +bleed. For they must be suffering in so many ways; take the one instance +of the poor women in their confinements; we used to go to them, and be +with them to cheer their time of trial. But now, separated from us, from +our care and oversight, what <i>can</i> they do? If the people who have been +so rash in freeing them had only thought of even that one thing! But I +suppose they did not think of it, and naturally, because the +abolitionist societies, we are told, were composed principally of old +maids.”</p> + +<p>Eve laughed. “Why can’t they have nurses, as other people do?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean regular monthly nurses, of course?”</p> + +<p>“Why not?—if they can afford to pay for them. They might club together +to supply them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t think that would be at all appropriate, really. And Eve +does not mean it, I assure you,” said Miss Sabrina, coming to the +rescue; “her views are perfectly reasonable, dear Mrs. Singleton; you +would be surprised.”</p> + +<p>“You would indeed!” Eve thought.<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a></p> + +<p>But they talked no more of the nig-roes.</p> + +<p>“How is Miss Hillsborough?” Miss Sabrina asked.</p> + +<p>“Right well, I am glad to say. My dear Aunt Peggy, Miss Bruce; and what +she is to me I can hardly tell you! You know I am something of a +talker”—here Mrs. Singleton laughed softly. “And we are so much alone +here now, that, were it not for Aunt Peggy, I should fairly have to talk +to the chickens!” (One at least would be ready, Eve thought.) “Don’t you +know that there are ever so many little things each day that we want to +<i>say</i> to somebody?” Mrs. Singleton went on. “Thinking them is not +enough. And these dear people, like Aunt Peggy, who sit still and +listen;—it isn’t what they answer that’s of consequence; in fact they +seldom say much; it’s just the chance they give us of putting our own +thought into words and seeing how it looks. It <i>does</i> make such a +difference.”</p> + +<p>“You are fortunate,” Eve answered. “And then you have your little boy, +too; Cicely has told me about him—Rupert; she says he is a dear little +fellow.”</p> + +<p>“Dear heart!” exclaimed Miss Sabrina, distressed. “Cicely is +sometimes—yes—”</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Singleton laughed merrily. “I will show him to you presently,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Singleton is so extraordinarily agreeable!” said Miss Sabrina, with +unwonted animation.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, he is wonderful; and he is a statesman too, a second Patrick +Henry. But then as regards the little things of each <i>day</i>, you know, we +don’t go to our husbands with <i>those</i>.”</p> + +<p>“What do you do, then?—I mean with the husbands,” Eve asked.<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a></p> + +<p>“I think we admire them,” answered Mrs. Singleton, simply.</p> + +<p>Lucasta, the negro girl, now appeared with a tray. “Pray take some +Madeira,” said their hostess, filling the tiny glasses. “And plum-cake.”</p> + +<p>Eve declined. But Miss Sabrina accepted both refreshments, and Mrs. +Singleton bore her company. The wine was unspeakably bad, it would have +been difficult to say what had entered into its composition; but Madeira +had formed part of the old-time hospitality of the house, and something +that was sold under that name (at a small country store on the mainland +opposite) was still kept in the cut-glass decanter, to be served upon +occasion.</p> + +<p>Presently a very tall, very portly, and very handsome old man (he well +merited three verys) came in, leaning on a cane. “Miss Bruce—little +Rupert; our dear little boy,” said Mrs. Singleton, introducing him. She +had intended to laugh, but she forgot it; she gazed at him admiringly.</p> + +<p>The master of the house put aside his cane, and looked about for a +chair. As he stood there, helpless for an instant, he seemed gigantic.</p> + +<p>Eve laughed.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina murmured, “Pleasantry, dear Mr. Singleton;—our foolish +pleasantry.”</p> + +<p>After the old gentleman had found his chair and seated himself, and had +drawn a breath or two, he gave a broad slow smile. “Nanny, are you in +the habit of introducing me to your young lady friends as your dear +little Rupert?—your little Rupe?”</p> + +<p>“Rupe? Never!” answered Mrs. Singleton, indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Only our foolish pleasantry,” sighed Miss Sabrina, apologetically.<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a></p> + +<p>“It was Cicely,” Eve explained.</p> + +<p>“If it was Cicely, it was perfect,” the lame colossus answered, +gallantly. “Cicely is heavenly. Upon my word, she is the most engaging +young person I have ever seen in my life.”</p> + +<p>He then ate some plum-cake, and paid Eve compliments even more handsome +than these.</p> + +<p>After a while he imparted the news; he had been down to the landing to +meet the afternoon steamer, which brought tidings from the outside +world. “Melton is dead,” he said. “You know whom I mean? Melton, the +great stockbroker; one of the richest men living, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! where is his soul <i>now</i>?” said Mrs. Singleton. Her emotion was +real, her sweet face grew pallid.</p> + +<p>“Why, I have never heard that he was a bad man, especially,” remarked +Eve, surprised.</p> + +<p>“He was sure to be—making all that money; it could not be otherwise. +Oh, what is his agony at this very moment!”</p> + +<p>But Rupert did not sympathize with this mournfulness; when three ladies +were present, conversation should be light, poetical. “Miss Bruce,” he +said, turning towards Eve—he was so broad that that in itself made a +landscape—“have you ever noticed the appropriateness of ‘County Guy’ to +this neighborhood of ours?”</p> + +<p>“No,” Eve answered. But the words brought her father to her mind with a +rush: how often, when she was a child, had he beguiled a dull walk with +a chant, half song, half declamation:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“Oh, County Guy, the hour is nigh,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The sun has left the lea.”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>She looked at her host, but she did not hear him; a mist gathered in her +eyes.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“‘Oh, County Guy, the hour is nigh,’”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">began the colossus, placing his plum-cake on his knee provisionally.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“‘The sun has left the lea;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">The orange flower perfumes the bower,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The breeze is on the sea.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">The lark his lay who trilled all day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sits hushed his partner nigh.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But where is County Guy? ’</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>“The orange flower perfumes the bower; here we have the orange flower +and the lea, the bower and the sea; and it’s very rarely that you find +all four together. ‘The lark his lay who trilled all day’—what music it +is! There’s no one like Scott.”</p> + +<p>His lameness prevented him from accompanying his guests on their walk +back to the boat; he stood in the doorway leaning on his cane and waving +a courtly farewell, while the chicken, with slowly considering steps, +crossed the veranda and entered the drawing-room again.</p> + +<p>“Miss Sabrina, please tell me what you know of Ferdinand Morrison,” Eve +began, as soon as a turn in the road hid the old house from their view.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina had expected to talk about the Singletons. “Oh, Mr. +Morrison? we did not see him ourselves, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But you must have heard.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, we heard. The Singletons are delightful people, are they +not? So cultivated! Their house has always been one of the most +agreeable on the Sound.”<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a></p> + +<p>“I dare say. But about Ferdinand Morrison?” Eve went on. For it was not +often that she had so good an opportunity; at Romney, if there was no +one else present, there were always the servants, who came in and out +like members of the family. “Cicely met him first in Savannah, didn’t +she?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Miss Sabrina (but giving up the Singletons with regret); +“she went to pay a visit to our cousin Emmeline; and there she met him. +From the very beginning he appeared to be much in love with her, Cousin +Emmeline wrote. And Cicely too—so we heard—appeared to care for him +from the first day. At least Cousin Emmeline received that impression; +Cicely, of course, did not take her into her confidence.”</p> + +<p>“Why of course?”</p> + +<p>“At that early stage? But don’t you think that those first sweet +uncertainties are always private? Mr. Morrison used to come every day, +and take her out for a drive; I have been in Savannah myself, and I have +often thought that probably they went to Bonaventure—<i>so</i> delightful! +At last, one evening, Cicely told Cousin Emmeline that she was engaged. +And the next day she wrote to us. She did not come home; they were +married there at Emmeline’s.”</p> + +<p>“And none of you went to the wedding?”</p> + +<p>“There were only father and I to go; we have not always been able to do +as we wished,” replied Miss Sabrina, gently.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Morrison had money, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“I think not; we have never been told so.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you ask?”</p> + +<p>“That was for Cicely, wasn’t it? I dare say she<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a> knows. We could only +hope, father and I, that she would be happy; but I fear that she has not +been, ah no.” And Miss Sabrina sighed.</p> + +<p>“But we must not give it up so, she is still so young. Why don’t you +write to Mr. Morrison yourself, and tell him, command him, to come +back?” suggested Eve, boldly.</p> + +<p>“But—but I don’t know where he is,” answered Miss Sabrina, bewildered +by this sudden attack.</p> + +<p>“You said South America.”</p> + +<p>“But I couldn’t write, ‘Ferdinand Morrison, Esquire, South America.’”</p> + +<p>“Some one must know. His relatives.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there is his brother, and a most devoted brother, we are told,” +responded Miss Sabrina, speaking more fluently now that she had launched +upon family affection. “Yes, indeed—from all we have heard of Paul +Tennant, we are inclined to think him a most excellent young man. He may +not have Ferdinand’s beauty (we are told that Ferdinand is remarkably +handsome); and it is probable, too, that he has not Ferdinand’s +cultivation, for he is a business man, and has always lived at the +North.—I beg your pardon, my dear, I am sure,” said the Southern lady, +interrupting herself in confusion.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter; the North won’t die of it. If you know where this +brother is— But why has he a different name?”</p> + +<p>“The mother, Mrs. Tennant, who was a widow with this one boy, Paul, +married one of the Maryland Morrisons—I reckon you know the family. +Ferdinand is the child of this second marriage. His father and mother +are dead; his only near relative is this half-brother, Paul.”<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a></p> + +<p>“Write to Paul, then, and find out where Ferdinand is.”</p> + +<p>“This is a plot, isn’t it?” answered Miss Sabrina, smiling. “But I like +it; it’s so sweet of you to plan for our poor Cicely’s happiness.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t thank me! Then you will write?”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t know where Mr. Tennant is either.—I dare say Cicely +knows.”</p> + +<p>“But if you ask her, she will suspect something. And if I ask her, it +will be worse still! Doesn’t anybody in the world know where this Paul +Tennant is?” said Eve, irritably.</p> + +<p>“I think we heard that it was some place where it is very cold—I +remember that. It might have been Canada,” suggested Sabrina, +reflectively.</p> + +<p>“Canada and South America—what a family!” said Eve, in despair.</p> + +<p>The wind had risen, the homeward voyage was rough. They reached Romney +to find little Jack ill; before morning he was struggling with an attack +of croup.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI.</h2> + +<p>“C<small>ICELY</small>, what did you say to those people, that they stared at us so +when they passed?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, they asked me if you were the man who went round with the +panorama—to explain it, you know. So I told them that you were the +celebrated Jessamine family—you and Miss Leontine; and that you were +going to give a concert in Gary Hundred to-night; I advised them to go.”</p> + +<p>“Bless my soul!—the celebrated Jessamine family? What possessed you?”<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a></p> + +<p>“Well, they saw the wagon, and they thought it looked like a panorama. +They seemed to want something, so I told them that.”</p> + +<p>Eve broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>But the judge put on his spectacles, and walked round the wagon with +indignant step. “It is an infernal color,” he declared, angrily.</p> + +<p>“Our good Dickson had that paint on hand—he told me about it,” +explained Miss Leontine. “It was left over”—here she paused. “I don’t +know what you will think, but I believe it really was left over after a +circus—or was it a menagerie? At any rate, the last thing that was +exhibited here before the war.”</p> + +<p>The vehicle in question was a long-bodied, two seated wagon, with a +square box behind, which opened at the back like the box of a carrier’s +cart; its hue was the liveliest pea green.</p> + +<p>“Dickson had no business to give it to us; it was a damned +impertinence!” said the judge, with a snort.</p> + +<p>“Don’t spoil your voice, when you’ve got to sing to-night, grandpa,” +remarked Cicely. “And you will have to lead out Miss Leontine—who will +sing ‘Waiting.’”</p> + +<p>The judge glanced at Miss Leontine. He could not repress a grin.</p> + +<p>But tall Miss Leontine remained amiable, she had never heard of +“Waiting.” In any case she seldom penetrated jokes; they seemed to her +insufficiently explained; often, indeed, abstruse. She was fifty-two, +and very maidenly; her bearing, her voice, her expression, were all +timidly virginal, as were also the tints of her attire, pale blues and +lavenders, and<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a> faint green. Her face bore a strong resemblance to the +face of a camel; give a camel a pink-and-white complexion, blue eyes, +and light-brown hair coming down in flat bands on each side of its long +face, and you have Miss Leontine. She was extraordinarily tall—she +attained a stature of nearly six feet. Her step, as if conscious of +this, was apologetic; her long narrow back leaned forward as though she +were trying to reduce her height in front as she came towards one. She +wore no crinoline; her head was decked with a large gypsy hat, from +which floated a blue tissue veil.</p> + +<p>The little party of four—Eve, Cicely, the judge, and Miss +Leontine—with Master Jack, had driven from Gary Hundred to Bellington; +their hostess, Cousin Sarah Cray, had an old horse, and this wagon had +been borrowed from Dickson, the village grainer (who had so mistakenly +saved the circus paint); it would be a pleasant excursion in itself, and +it would be good for Jack—which last was the principal point with them +all.</p> + +<p>For the much longer excursion from Abercrombie Island to this inland +South Carolina village had been taken on Jack’s account; the attack of +croup had left him with a harassing cough, a baby’s little cough, which +is so distressing to the ears of those who love him. Eve had walked +about, day and night, carrying him in her arms, his languid head on her +shoulder; she could not bear to see how large his eyes looked in his +little white face; she did not sleep; she could scarcely speak.</p> + +<p>“We might go to Cousin Sarah Cray’s for a while, away from the coast,” +Cicely suggested. She was always present when Eve walked restlessly to +and<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a> fro; but she did not interfere, she let Eve have the child.</p> + +<p>Eve had no idea who or where was Cousin Sarah Cray, but she agreed to +anything that would take Jack away from the coast. It was very cold now +at Romney; the Sound was dark and rough all the time, the sea boomed, +the winds were bitter. They had therefore journeyed inland, Jack and +Eve, Cicely and her grandfather, leaving Miss Sabrina to guard the +island-home alone.</p> + +<p>When they reached Gary Hundred and the softer air, Jack began to revive; +Eve too revived, she came back to daily life again. One of the first +things she said was: “I ought not to be staying here, Cicely; you must +let me go to the hotel; your cousin is not my cousin.”</p> + +<p>“She’s Jack’s.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean by that that Jack must stay, and if he does, I shall? But +it isn’t decent; here we have all descended upon her at a moment’s +notice, and filled up her house, and tramped to and fro. She doesn’t +appear to be rich.”</p> + +<p>“We are all as poor as crows, but we always go and stay with each other +just the same. As for Cousin Sarah Cray, she loves it. Of course we take +her as we find her.”</p> + +<p>“We do indeed!” was Eve’s thought. “It is all very well for you,” she +went on, aloud. “But I am a stranger.”</p> + +<p>“Cousin Sarah Cray doesn’t think so; she thinks you very near—a sister +of her cousin.”</p> + +<p>“If you count in that way, what families you must have! But why +shouldn’t we all go to the hotel, and take her with us? There’s an +idea.”<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a></p> + +<p>“For one reason, there’s no hotel to go to,” responded Cicely, laughing.</p> + +<p>They continued, therefore, to stay with Cousin Sarah Cray; they had been +there ten days, and Jack was so much better that Eve gladly accepted her +obligations, for the present. She accepted, too, the makeshifts of the +rambling housekeeping. But if the housekeeping was of a wandering order, +the welcome did not wander—it remained fixed; there was something +beautiful in the boundless affection and hospitality of poverty-stricken +Cousin Sarah Cray.</p> + +<p>Bellington was a ruin. In the old days it had been the custom of the +people of Gary Hundred, and the neighboring plantations, to drive +thither now and then to spend an afternoon; the terraces and fish-ponds +were still to be seen, together with the remains of the Dutch +flower-garden, and the great underground kitchens of the house, which +had been built of bricks imported from Holland a hundred and twenty +years before. In the corner of one of the fields bordering the river +were the earthworks of a Revolutionary fort; in a jungle a quarter of a +mile distant there was a deserted church, with high pews, mouldering +funeral hatchments, and even the insignia of George the Third in faded +gilt over the organ-loft. Bellington House had been destroyed by fire, +accidentally, in 1790. Now, when there were in the same neighborhood +other houses which had been destroyed by fire, not accidentally, there +was less interest in the older ruin. But it still served as an excuse +for a drive, and drives were excellent for the young autocrat of the +party, to whom all, including Miss Leontine, were shamelessly devoted.<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a></p> + +<p>The judge did his duty as guide; he had visited Bellington more times +than he could count, but he again led the way (with appropriate +discourse) from the fish-ponds to the fort, and from the fort to the +church, Miss Leontine, in her floating veil, ambling beside him.</p> + +<p>When the sun began to decline they returned to their pea-green wagon. +The judge walked round it afresh. Then he turned away, put his head over +a bush, and muttered on the other side of it.</p> + +<p>“What is he saying?” Eve asked.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid ‘cuss words,’ as the darkies call them,” answered Cicely, +composedly. “He is without doubt a very desperate old man.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leontine looked distressed, she made a pretext of gathering some +leaves from a bush at a little distance; as she walked away, her skirt +caught itself behind at each step upon the tops of her prunella boots, +which were of the pattern called “Congress,” with their white straps +visible.</p> + +<p>“She is miserable because I called him that,” said Cicely; “she thinks +him perfect. Grandpa, I have just called you a desperate old man.”</p> + +<p>But the judge had resumed his grand manner; he assisted the ladies in +climbing to their high seats, and then, mounting to his own place, he +guided the horse down the uneven avenue and into the broad road again. +The cotton plantations of this neighborhood had suffered almost as much +as the rice fields of Romney: they had been flooded so often that much +of the land was now worthless, disintegrated and overgrown with +lespedeza. They crossed the river (which had done the damage) on—or +rather in—a long shaking wooden bridge, covered<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a> and nearly dark, and +guarding in its dusky recesses a strong odor of the stable. Beyond it +the judge had an inspiration: he would go across the fields by one of +the old cotton-tracks, thus shortening the distance by more than two +miles.</p> + +<p>“Because you’re ashamed of</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">‘Our pea-green wagon, our wagon of green,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Lillibulero, bullen-a-la,’”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">chanted Cicely on the back seat.</p> + +<p>“Cecilia!” said the judge, with dignity.</p> + +<p>Eve sat beside him; courteously he entertained her. “Have you ever +reflected, Miss Bruce, upon the very uninteresting condition of the +world at present? Everything is known. Where can a gentleman travel now, +with the element of the unexpected as a companion? There are positively +no lands left unvulgarized save the neighborhood of the Poles.”</p> + +<p>“Central Africa,” Eve suggested.</p> + +<p>“Africa? I think I said for gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>“You turbulent old despot, curb yourself,” said Cicely, <i>sotto voce</i>.</p> + +<p>“In the old days, Miss Bruce,” the judge went on, “we had Arabia, we had +Thibet, we had Cham-Tartary; we could arrive on camels at Erzerum. Hey! +what are you about there, boy? Turn out!”</p> + +<p>“Turn out yourself.”</p> + +<p>The track had passed down into a winding hollow between sloping banks +about six feet high; on the other side of a curve they had come suddenly +upon an empty hay-cart which was approaching from the opposite +direction, drawn by two mules; the driver, an athletic young negro with +an insolent face, was<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a> walking beside his team. His broad cart filled +every inch of the track; it was impossible to pass it without climbing +the bank. The judge, with his heavy wagon and one horse, could not do +this; but it would have been easy for the mules to take their light cart +up the slope, and thus leave room for the wagon.</p> + +<p>The old planter could not believe that he had heard aright. “Turn out, +boy!” he repeated, with the imperious manner which only a lifetime of +absolute authority can give.</p> + +<p>The negro brought his mules up until their noses touched the nose of the +horse; then, putting his hands in his pockets, he planted himself, and +called out, “W’at yer gwine ter do ’bout it?”</p> + +<p>In an instant the judge was on his feet, whip in hand. But Cicely +touched him. “You are not going to fight with him, grandpa?” she said, +in a low tone. “For he will fight; he isn’t in the least afraid of you.”</p> + +<p>The judge had now reached the ground. In his rage he was white, with his +eyes blazing. Eve, greatly alarmed, clasped little Jack closer.</p> + +<p>Cicely jumped lightly down. “Grandpa,” she said, under her breath, “he +is a great deal stronger than you are, and after he has struck you down +we shall be here alone with him—think of that. We will all get out, and +then you can lead the horse up the bank, and go by him. Dear grandpa, it +is the only way; this isn’t the island, this is South Carolina.”</p> + +<p>Eve, seeing the speechless passion of the old man, had not believed that +Cicely would prevail; she had closed her eyes with a shuddering, +horrible vision of the forward rush, the wrested whip, and the +silver-haired<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a> head in the dust. But, with a mighty effort, trembling +like a leaf with his repressed rage, the judge put up his hand to help +her in her descent. She accepted his aid hurriedly, giving Jack to +Cicely; Miss Leontine had climbed down alone, the tears dropping on her +cheeks behind her veil. The judge then led the horse up the bank and +past the wagon, the negro keeping his position beside his mules; the +ladies followed the wagon, and mounted to their places again when it had +reached the track, Cicely taking the seat by the side of her +grandfather. Then they drove off, followed by the negro’s jeering +laughter.</p> + +<p>The old planter remained perfectly silent. Eve believed that, after he +had deposited them safely at home, he would go back in search of that +negro without fail. She and Cicely tried to keep up a conversation; Miss +Leontine joined them whenever she was able, but the tears constantly +succeeded each other on her long face, and she was as constantly putting +her handkerchief to her eyes in order to repress them, the gesture much +involved with her blue veil. On the borders of the village they passed +the little railway station. By the side of the station-house there was a +new shop, which had a broad show-window filled with wooden wash-tubs.</p> + +<p>“This is the shop of Thomas Scotts, the tar-and-turpentine man who is in +love with Matilda Debbs,” said Cicely. “How is that coming on now, Miss +Leontine?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leontine took down her handkerchief. “The family do not consent.”</p> + +<p>“But there’s nothing against the man, is there?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leontine took down the handkerchief again<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>—she had already +replaced it. “As regards his character, n-nothing. But he is a +manufacturer of tubs. It appears that it is the business of the family; +his father also manufactures them. In Connecticut.”</p> + +<p>“If Thomas Scotts should make a beautiful new tub for each of the Misses +Debbs, it wouldn’t be a bad idea; there are twelve or fourteen of them, +aren’t there?”</p> + +<p>“Ner-nine,” replied the afflicted maiden lady, with almost a convulsion +of grief. “But two of them are yer-young yet.”</p> + +<p>“And seven are not. Now seven new tubs.”</p> + +<p>“Cecilia, let us have no more of this,” said the judge.</p> + +<p>It was the first time he had spoken; Cicely put her hand behind her and +furtively pinched Eve’s knee in token of triumph.</p> + +<p>They came into the main street of Gary Hundred. It was a broad avenue, +wandering vaguely onward amid four rows of trees; there was no pavement; +the roadway was deeply covered with yellow sand; the spacious sidewalks +which bordered it were equally in a state of nature. The houses, at some +distance back from the street, were surrounded by large straggling +gardens. Farther down were the shops, each with its row of +hitching-posts across the front.</p> + +<p>They left Miss Leontine at her own door, and went on towards the +residence of Cousin Sarah Cray.</p> + +<p>“Here comes Miss Polly’s bread-cart, on the way back from Mellons,” said +Cicely. “Grandpa, wouldn’t it be a good idea to buy some little cakes?”</p> + +<p>The judge stopped the horse; Cicely beckoned to the old negro who was +wheeling the covered hand-cart<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a> along the sandy road. “Uncle Dan, have +you any cakes left?”</p> + +<p>Uncle Dan touched his hat, and opened the lid of the cart; there, +reposing on snowy napkins, were biscuit and bread, and little cakes of +inviting aspect. While Cicely made her selection, Eve bent down and took +one of the circulars which were lying, neatly piled, in a corner. It +announced, not in print, but in delicate hand-writing, that at the +private bakery, number ten Queen Street, Gary Hundred, fresh bread, +biscuits, and rolls could be obtained daily; muffins, crumpets, and +plum-cake to order. The circular was signed “Mary Clementina Diana +Wingfield.”</p> + +<p>“They have names enough, those sisters,” Eve commented. “Miss Leontine’s +is Clotilda Leontine Elizabeth; I saw it in her prayer-book.”</p> + +<p>Cousin Sarah Cray’s residence was a large white house, with verandas +encircling it both up stairs and down; the palings of the fence were +half gone, the whole place looked pillaged and open. The judge drove up +to the door and helped Cicely to descend; and then Eve, who had little +Jack, fast asleep, in her arms. Cicely motioned to Eve to go into the +house; she herself followed her grandfather as he led the horse round to +the stables. Eve went in, carrying Jack and the cakes. Cousin Sarah +Cray, hurrying down the stairs to meet her, took the child +affectionately. “Dear little fellow, he begins to look right rosy.” She +was delighted with the cakes. “They will help out the tea be-u-tifully; +we’ve only got waffles.”</p> + +<p>Instead of going to her room, Eve took a seat at the window; she was +anxious about the judge.</p> + +<p>“Miss Polly’s cakes are always so light,” pursued<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a> Cousin Sarah Cray, +looking at them; “she never makes a mistake, there’s never the tinetiest +streak of heaviness in <i>her</i> little pounds! And her breads are elegant, +too; when one sees her beautiful hands, one wonders how she can do all +the kneading.”</p> + +<p>“Does she do it herself?”</p> + +<p>“Every single bit; their old Susannah only heats the oven. It was a +courageous idea, Miss Bruce, from the beginning; you know they are among +our best people, and, after the war, they found themselves left with +nothing in the world but their house. They could have kept school in it, +of course, for they are accomplished beyond everything; Miss Leontine +paints sweetly—she was educated in France. But there was no one to come +to the school; the girls, of course, could not afford to go away.”</p> + +<p>“You mean pupils?—to leave their homes and come here?”</p> + +<p>“No, I mean the girls, Polly and Leontine; they could not open a school +anywhere else—in Charleston, for instance; they had not money enough.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon—it was only that I did not recognize them as ‘the +girls.’”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose they really are not quite girls any longer,” responded +Cousin Sarah Cray, thoughtfully. “Polly is forty-four and Leontine +fifty-two; but I reckon they will always be ‘the girls’ to us, even if +they’re eighty,” she added, laughing. “Well, Polly had this idea. And +she has been so successful—you can’t think! Her bread-cart goes over to +Mellons every day of your life, as regularly as the clock. And they buy +a great deal.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the camp, isn’t it?—Camp Mellons?”</p> + +<p>“No; it has always been Mellons, Mellons Post-office.<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a> The camp is near +there, and it has some Yankee name or other, I believe; but of course +you know, my dear, that <i>we</i> never go there.”</p> + +<p>“You only sell them bread. I am glad, at least, that they buy Miss +Polly’s. And does Miss Leontine help?”</p> + +<p>“I fancy not. Dear Miss Leontine is not as practical as Miss Polly; she +has a soft poetical nature, and she makes beautiful afghans. But the +judge prefers Miss Polly.”</p> + +<p>“Does he really admire her?” said Eve, with a sudden inspiration.</p> + +<p>“Beyond everything,” answered Cousin Sarah Cray, clasping her plump +hands.</p> + +<p>“Then will you please go out and tell him that she is coming here to +tea, that she will be here immediately?”</p> + +<p>“Mercy! But she won’t.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she will; I will go and ask her. Do please make haste, Mrs. Cray; +we are so afraid, Cicely and I, that he will try to whip a negro.”</p> + +<p>“Mercy!” said Cousin Sarah Cray again, this time in alarm; stout as she +was, she ran swiftly through the hall and across the veranda, her cap +strings flying, and disappeared on the way to the stables.</p> + +<p>Eve carried little Jack up-stairs, and gave him to Deely, the +house-maid; then, retracing her steps, she went out through the +side-gate, and up the street to the home of the Misses Wingfield. The +door stood open, Miss Polly was in the hall. She was a handsome woman, +vigorous, erect, with clear blue eyes, and thick sandy hair closely +braided round her well-shaped head. Eve explained her errand. “But +perhaps Miss Leontine told you?” she added.<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a></p> + +<p>“No, Lonny told me nothing; she went straight to her room. I noticed +that she had been crying; but she is so sweet that she cries rather +easily. Whip, indeed! <i>I’d</i> rather shoot.”</p> + +<p>“We must keep the <i>judge</i> from being whipped,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose so; he is an old man, though he doesn’t look it. I will +go with you, of course. Or rather I will follow you in a few moments.”</p> + +<p>The post-office of Gary Hundred was opposite the Wingfield house; as Eve +crossed the broad street on her way back, the postmaster appeared at his +door, and beckoned to her mysteriously. He was a small elderly negro, +with a dignified manner; he wore blue goggles; Eve knew him slightly, +she had paid several visits to the office, and had been treated with +deferential attention. When she reached the sidewalk, therefore, she +paused.</p> + +<p>“Would yer min’ droppin’ in fer one brief momen’, miss? ’Portant +marter.”</p> + +<p>Eve stepped over the low sill of the small building—it was hardly more +than a shed, though smartly whitewashed, and adorned with bright green +blinds—and the postmaster immediately closed the door. He then +cautiously took from his desk a letter.</p> + +<p>“Dere’s sump’n’ rudder quare ’bout dishyer letter, miss,” he said, +glancing towards the window to see that no one was looking in. “Carn’t +be too pertikler w’en it’s guv’ment business; en so we ’lowed to ax de +favior ef you’d sorter glimpse yer eye ober it fer us.”</p> + +<p>“Read a letter?” said Eve. “Whose letter?”</p> + +<p>“Not de letter, but him <i>outside</i>, miss. Whoms is it? Dat’s de p’int. En +I wouldn’t have you s’pose<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a> we ’ain’t guv it our bes’ cornsideration. We +knows de looks ob mos’ ob ’em w’at comes yere; but dishyer one’s +diffunt. Fuddermo’, de stamp’s diffunt too.”</p> + +<p>The postmaster’s wife, a little yellow woman, was looking anxiously at +them from the small window in the partition of the real post-office, a +space six feet by three.</p> + +<p>Eve took the letter. “It’s an English stamp. And the name is plainly +written, ‘Henry Barker, Esquire; Gary Hundred.’”</p> + +<p>“No sech pusson yere. Dat’s w’at I tol’ Mister Cotesworth,” said the +yellow woman, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to tell me that you cannot read?” said Eve, surveying +“Mister Cotesworth,” with astonishment.</p> + +<p>The government official had, for the moment, an abashed look. “We +’lowed,” he began, “dat as you’s fum de Norf—”</p> + +<p>But his wife interrupted him. “He reads better’n mos’, miss, Mister +Cotesworth does. But his eyes done got so bad lately—dat’s w’at. Take +de letter, Mister Cotesworth, and doan’ trouble de lady no mo’. Fine +wedder, miss.” She came round and opened the door officiously; “seem lak +we ’ain’t nebber see finer.”</p> + +<p>Miss Polly arrived at Cousin Sarah Cray’s; she walked with apparent +carelessness round towards the stables, where the judge was +superintending the rubbing down and the feeding of the horse. A saddle +had been brought out, and was hanging on the fence; Cousin Sarah hovered +anxiously near.</p> + +<p>“Grandpa is going out for a ride,” explained Cicely. “But I told him +that the poor horse must<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a> be fed first, in common charity; he has been +so far already—to Bellington and back.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but the judge is not going, now that I have come,” said Miss Polly; +“he wouldn’t be so uncivil.” She went up to him; smiling winningly, she +put out her beautiful hand.</p> + +<p>The judge was always gallant; he took the fair hand, and, bending his +head, deposited upon it a salute.</p> + +<p>Miss Polly smiled still more graciously. “And is a stable-yard a place +for such courtesies, judge?” she said, in her rich voice, with her +luscious, indolent, Southern pronunciation. “Oh, surely not—surely not. +Let us go to Cousin Sarah Cray’s parlor; I have something to tell you; +in fact, I came especially to see you.” Looking very handsome and very +straight, she took his arm with a caressing touch.</p> + +<p>The judge admired Miss Polly deeply.</p> + +<p>And Miss Polly kept a firm hold upon his arm.</p> + +<p>The judge yielded.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII.</h2> + +<p>“S<small>EA-BEACHES</small>,” said Eve,—“the minds of such people; you can trace the +line of their last high tide, that is, the year when they stopped +reading. Along the judge’s line, one finds, for instance, Rogers; he +really has no idea that there have been any new poets since then.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me! We have always thought Horatio remarkably literary,” protested +Cousin Sarah Cray. “That’s his step now, I think.”<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a></p> + +<p>The judge came in, little Jack on his shoulder. “I believe he has +dropped some—some portions of his clothing on the stairs,” he said, +helplessly. “It’s astonishing—the facility he has.”</p> + +<p>“And he has pulled off his shoes,” added Eve, taking the little +reprobate and kissing him. “Naughty Jack. Tacks!”</p> + +<p>“Esss, tacks!” repeated Jack, in high glee. “Dey gets in Jack’s foots.” +That was all he cared for her warning legend.</p> + +<p>The judge sat down and wiped his forehead. “I have received a shock,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Pity’s sake!—what?” asked Cousin Sarah Cray, in alarm. Poor Cousin +Sarah dealt in interjections. But it might be added that she had lived +through times that were exclamatory.</p> + +<p>“Our old friend, Roland Pettigru, is dead, Sarah; the news comes to us +in this—this Sheet, which, I am told, is published here.” He drew a +small newspaper from his pocket. “With your permission, ladies, I will +read to you the opening sentence of an obituary notice which this—this +Sheet—has prepared for the occasion.” He put on his spectacles, and, +holding the paper off at a distance, read aloud, with slow, indignant +enunciation, as follows: “‘The Great Reaper has descended amongst us. +And this time he has carried back with him sadly brilliant sheaves; for +his arrows have been shot at a shining mark’ (arrows for a reaper!” +commented the judge, surveying his audience squintingly, over his +glasses), "‘and the aim has been only too true. Gaunt Sorrow stalks +abroad, we mourn with Pettigru Hill; we say—and we repeat—that the +death of Roland Pettigru has left a vortex among us.’ Yes, vortex,<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a> +ladies;—the death of a quiet, cultivated gentleman a vortex!”</p> + +<p>At this moment Deely, the house-maid, appeared at the door; giving her +calico skirt a twist by way of “manners,” she announced, “Miss Wungfy.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leontine entered, carrying five books standing in a row upon her +left arm as though it had been a shelf. She shook hands with Cousin +Sarah Cray and Eve; then she went through the same ceremony with the +judge, but in a confused, downcast manner, and seated herself on a +slippery ottoman as near as possible to the door.</p> + +<p>“I hope you liked the books? Pray let me take them,” said Eve, for Miss +Leontine was still balancing them against her breast.</p> + +<p>“Literature?” remarked the judge, who also seemed embarrassed. He took +up one of the volumes and opened it. “Ah, a novel.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but one that will not hurt you,” Eve answered. “For Miss Leontine +prefers those novels where the hero and heroine are married to begin +with, and then fall in love with each other afterwards; everything on +earth may happen to them during this process—poisonings and murders and +shootings; she does not mind these in the least, for it’s sure in any +case to be <i>moral</i>, don’t you see, because they were married in the +beginning. And marriage makes everything perfectly safe; doesn’t it, +Miss Leontine?”</p> + +<p>“I am sure I don’t know,” answered Miss Leontine, still a prey to +nervousness; “but—but I have always <i>supposed</i> so. Yes. We read them +aloud,” she added, turning for relief to Cousin Sarah Cray; “that is, I +read to Polly—in the evenings.”<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a></p> + +<p>“These modern novels seem to me poor productions,” commented the judge, +turning over the pages of the volume he had taken.</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” responded Eve.</p> + +<p>“May I ask why ‘naturally’?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, men who read their Montaigne year after year without change, and +who quote Charles Lamb, never care for novels, unless, indeed, it may be +‘Tom Jones.’ Montaigne and Lamb, Latin quotations that are not hard, a +glass of good wine with his dinner, and a convexity of person—these +mark your non-appreciator of novels, from Warwickshire to Gary Hundred.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, young lady—” began the judge, laughing.</p> + +<p>But Miss Leontine, by her rising, interrupted him. “I think I must go +now. Yes. Thank you.”</p> + +<p>“But you have only just come,” said Cousin Sarah Cray.</p> + +<p>“I stopped to leave the books. Yes; really; that was all. Thanks, you +are very kind. Yes; thank you.” She fumbled ineffectually for the handle +of the door, and, when it was opened for her, with an embarrassed bow +she passed out, her long back bent forward, her step hurried.</p> + +<p>“I can’t imagine what is the matter with her,” said Cousin Sarah Cray, +returning.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid, Sarah, that I can inform you,” answered the judge gravely, +putting down the volume. “I met her in her own garden about an hour ago, +and we fell into conversation; I don’t know what possessed me, but in +relating some anecdote of a jocular nature which happened to be in my +mind at the time, by way of finish—I can’t imagine what I<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a> was thinking +of—but I up and chucked her under the chin.”</p> + +<p>“Chucked Miss Leontine!” exclaimed Cousin Sarah Cray, aghast, while Eve +gave way to irrepressible mirth. “Was she—was she deeply offended?”</p> + +<p>“She was simply paralyzed with astonishment. I venture to say”—here the +judge sent an eye-beam towards the laughing Eve—“I venture to say that +Miss Leontine has never been chucked under the chin in all her life +before.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not,” answered Cousin Sarah Cray; “she is far too dignified.” +Then, with a desire to be strictly truthful, she added, “Perhaps when +she was a baby?”</p> + +<p>But even this seemed doubtful.</p> + +<p>Not long after this the Misses Wingfield (it was really Miss Polly) gave +a party.</p> + +<p>“Must we go?” said Eve.</p> + +<p>“Why, it will be perfectly delightful!” answered Cousin Sarah Cray, +looking at her in astonishment. “Every one will be there. Let me see: +there will be ourselves, four; and Miss Polly and Miss Leontine, six; +then the Debbses, thirteen—fourteen if Mrs. Debbs comes; the Rev. Mr. +Bushey and his wife, sixteen. And perhaps there will be some one else,” +she added, hopefully; “perhaps somebody has some one staying with them.”</p> + +<p>“Thomas Scotts, the tub man, will not be invited,” remarked Cicely. “He +will walk by on the outside. And look in.”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing I admire more than the way you pronounce that name +Debbs,” observed Eve. “It’s plain Debbs; yet you call it Dessss—holding +on to<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a> all the s’s, and hardly sounding the b at all—so that you almost +make it rhyme with noblesse.”</p> + +<p>“That’s because we like ’em, I reckon,” responded Cousin Sarah Cray. +“They certainly are the <i>sweetest</i> family!”</p> + +<p>“There’s a faint trace of an original theme in Matilda. The others are +all variations,” said the caustic Miss Bruce.</p> + +<p>They went to the party.</p> + +<p>“Theme and variations all here,” said Cicely, as they passed the open +door of the parlor on their way up-stairs to lay aside their wraps; +“they haven’t spared us a trill.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you won’t be spared either,” said Cousin Sarah Cray. “<i>You’ll</i> +have to sing.”</p> + +<p>She proved a true prophet; Cicely was called upon to add what she could +to the entertainments of the evening. Her voice was slender and clear; +to-night it pleased her to sing straight on, so rapidly that she made +mince-meat of the words of her song, the delicate little notes almost +seeming to come from a flute, or from a mechanical music-bird screwed to +a chandelier. Later, however, Miss Matilda Debbs supplied the missing +expression when she gave them:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“Slee—ping, I <i>dreamed</i>, love,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dreamed, love, of thee;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">O’er—ther—bright <i>waves</i>, love,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Float—ing were we.”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Cicely seemed possessed by one of her wild moods. “I’ve been to the +window; the tar-and-turpentine man is looking over the gate,” she said, +in a low voice, to Eve. “I’m going out to say to him, ‘Scotts, wha hae! +Send in a tub.’”</p> + +<p>Presently she came by Eve’s chair again. “Have<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a> you seen the geranium in +Miss Leontine’s hair? Let us get grandpa out on the veranda with her, +alone; she has been madly in love with him ever since he chucked her +under the chin. What’s more, grandpa knows it, too, and he’s awfully +frightened; he always goes through the back streets now, like a thief.”</p> + +<p>There was a peal at the door-bell. “Tar-and-turpentine man coming in,” +murmured Cicely.</p> + +<p>Susannah appeared with a letter. “Fer Mis’ Morrison,” she said.</p> + +<p>There was a general laugh. For “Mister Cotesworth,” not sure that Eve +would keep his secret, and alarmed for the safety of his official +position, had taken to delivering his letters in person; clad in his +best black coat, with a silk hat, the blue goggles, and a tasselled +cane, he not only delivered them with his own hands, but he declaimed +the addresses in a loud tone at the door. Not finding Cicely at home, he +had followed her hither. “Fer Mis’ Fer’nen Morrison. A <i>ferwerded</i> +letter,” he said to Susannah in the hall, at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>The judge had gone to the dining-room with Miss Polly, to see her little +dog, which was ailing. Cicely put the letter in her pocket.</p> + +<p>After a while she said to Eve, “I never have any letters, hardly.”</p> + +<p>“But you must have,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“No; almost never. I am going up-stairs for a moment, Eve. Don’t come +with me.”</p> + +<p>When she returned, more music was going on. As soon as she could, Eve +said, inquiringly, “Well?”</p> + +<p>“It was from Ferdie.”</p> + +<p>“Is he coming back?”<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a></p> + +<p>“Yes,” responded Cicely, unmoved.</p> + +<p>Eve’s thoughts had flown to her own plans. But she found time to think, +“What a cold little creature it is, after all!”</p> + +<p>At that moment they could say no more.</p> + +<p>About midnight, when Eve was in her own room, undressing, there was a +tap at the door, and Cicely entered. She had taken off her dress; a +forlorn little blue shawl was drawn tightly round her shoulders.</p> + +<p>She walked to the dressing-table, where Eve was sitting, took up a +brush, and looked at it vaguely. “I didn’t mean to tell any one; but I +have changed my mind, I am going to tell you.” Putting down the brush, +she let the shawl fall back. There across her white breast was a long +purple scar, and a second one over her delicate little shoulder. “He did +it,” she said. Her eyes, fixed upon Eve’s, were proud and brilliant.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean—you don’t mean that your <i>husband</i>—” stammered Eve, in +horror.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Ferdie. He did it.”</p> + +<p>“Is he mad?”</p> + +<p>“Only after he has been drinking.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you poor little thing!” said Eve, taking her in her arms +protectingly. “I have been so hard to you, Cicely, so cruel! But I did +not know—I did not know.” Her tears flowed.</p> + +<p>“I am telling you on account of baby,” Cicely went on, in the same +unmoved tone.</p> + +<p>“Has he dared to touch baby?” said Eve, springing up.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Eve; he broke poor baby’s little arm; of course when he did not +know what he was doing.<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> When he gets that way he does not know us; he +thinks we are enemies, and he thinks it is his duty to attack us. Once +he put us out-of-doors—baby and me—in the middle of the night, with +only our night-dresses on; fortunately it wasn’t very cold. That time, +and the time he broke baby’s arm (he seized him by the arm and flung him +out of his crib), we were not in Savannah; we were off by ourselves for +a month, we three. Baby was so young that the bone was easily set. +Nobody ever knew about it, I never told. But—but it must not happen +again.” She looked at Eve with the same unmoved gaze.</p> + +<p>“I should rather think not! Give him to me, Cicely, and let me take him +away—at least for the present. You know you said—”</p> + +<p>“I said ‘perhaps.’ But I cannot let him go now—not just now. I am +telling you what has happened because you really seem to care for him.”</p> + +<p>“I think I have showed that I care for him!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I have let you.”</p> + +<p>“What are we to do, then, if you won’t let me take him away?” said Eve, +in despair. “Will that man come here?”</p> + +<p>“He may. He will go to Savannah, and if he learns there that I am here, +he may follow me. But he will never go to Romney, he doesn’t like +Romney; even in the beginning, when I begged him to go, he never would. +He—” She paused.</p> + +<p>“Jealous, I suppose,” suggested the sister, with a bitter +laugh—“jealous of Jack’s poor bones in the burying-ground. Your two +ghosts will have a duel, Cicely.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, <i>Ferdie</i> isn’t dead!” said Cicely, with sudden<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a> terror. She grasped +Eve’s arm. “Have you heard anything? Tell me—tell me.”</p> + +<p>Eve looked at her.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I love him,” said Cicely, answering the look. “I have loved him +ever since the first hour I saw him. It’s more than love; it’s +adoration.”</p> + +<p>“You never said that of Jack.”</p> + +<p>“No; for it wouldn’t have been true.”</p> + +<p>The two women faced each other—the tall Eve, the dark little wife.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if I could only get away from this hideous country—this whole +horrible South!” said Eve, walking up and down the room like a caged +tigress.</p> + +<p>“You would like him if you knew him,” Cicely went on, gently. “It seldom +happens—that other; and when it doesn’t happen, Eve—”</p> + +<p>Eve put out her hand with a repelling gesture. “Let me take baby and +go.”</p> + +<p>“Not now. But he will be safe at Romney.”</p> + +<p>“In Heaven’s name, then, let us get him back to Romney.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Little Jack was asleep in his crib by the side of Eve’s bed, for she +still kept him with her at night. Cicely went to the crib and looked at +her child; Eve followed her.</p> + +<p>The little boy’s night-dress had fallen open, revealing one shoulder and +arm. “It was just here,” whispered Cicely, kneeling down and softly +touching the baby-flesh. She looked up at Eve, her eyes thick with +tears.</p> + +<p>“Why, you care?” said Eve. “Care for him?—the baby, I mean.” She spoke +her thoughts aloud, unwittingly.<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a></p> + +<p>“Did you think I didn’t care?” asked Cicely, with a smile.</p> + +<p>It was the strangest smile Eve had ever seen.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII.</h2> + +<p>E<small>ARLY</small> spring at Romney. The yellow jessamine was nearly gone, the other +flowers were coming out; Atamasco lilies shone whitely everywhere; the +long line of the islands and the opposite mainland were white with +blossoms, the salt-marshes were freshly green; shoals, which had +wallowed under water since Christmas, lifted their heads; the great +river came back within its banks again.</p> + +<p>Three weeks had passed since their return to the island. They had made +the journey without the judge, who had remained in South Carolina to +give his aid to the widow of his old friend, Roland Pettigru, who had +become involved in a lawsuit. The three weeks had been slow and +anxious—anxious, that is, to Eve. Cicely had returned to her muteness. +Once, at the beginning, when Eve had pressed her with questions, she +said, as general answer, “In any case, Ferdie will not come here.” After +that, when again—once or twice—Eve had asked, “Have you heard anything +more?” Cicely had returned no reply whatever; she had let her passive +glance rest upon Eve and then glide to something else, as though she had +not spoken. Eve was proud, she too remained silent. She knew that she +had done nothing to win Cicely’s confidence; women understand women, and +Cicely had perceived from the first, of course, that Jack’s sister did +not like her.<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a></p> + +<p>But since that midnight revelation at Cousin Sarah Cray’s, Eve no longer +disliked Cicely; on the contrary, she was attracted towards her by a +sort of unwilling surprise. Often, when they were with the others, she +would look at her twenty times in a half-hour, endeavoring to fathom +something of the real nature of this little girl (to Eve, Cicely always +seemed a school-girl), who had borne a tragedy in silence, covering it +with her jests, covering it also with her coldness. But was Cicely +really cold to all the world but Ferdie? She was not so, at least, as +regarded her child; no one who had seen her on her knees that night +beside the crib could doubt her love for him. Yet she let Eve have him +for hours at a time, she let her have him at night, without even Dilsey +to look after him; she never interfered, constantly as Eve claimed him +and kept him. In spite of her confidence in her own perceptions, in +spite of her confidence, too, in her own will, which she believed could +force a solution in almost every case, Eve Bruce was obliged to +acknowledge to herself that she was puzzled.</p> + +<p>Now and then she would be harassed by the question as to whether she +ought not to tell Miss Sabrina what she knew, whether she ought not to +tell the judge. But Cicely had spared them, and Cicely had asked her to +be equally merciful. At night, when lying awake, the horror of the poor +baby’s broken arm would sometimes come to her so vividly that she would +light the candle in haste to see if he were safe. If Ferdie should come +here, after all! Cicely had said that he would not; but who could trust +Cicely,—loving the man as she did? To Eve, after all that had happened, +Cicely’s love<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a> seemed a mania as insane as the homicidal deliriums of +the husband.</p> + +<p>As to these deliriums, she tried to picture what they must be: the baby +hurled from his little crib—that made her shudder with rage; she should +not be afraid of the madman, then; she should attack him in return! +Sometimes it was Cicely whom she saw, Cicely, shrinking under blows; it +must have been something heavy and sharp, a billet of wood, perhaps, +that had caused the scars across her white breast. She remembered that +once, when inwardly exasperated by Cicely’s fresh fairness, she had +accused her of never having known what it was to be really tired in all +her life. Cicely had answered, rather hesitatingly, “I don’t know that I +have ever been <i>tired</i>, exactly.” She had not been tired—no. She had +only been half killed.</p> + +<p>The poor little girl’s muteness, her occasional outbursts of wild sport, +her jests and laughter, her abstractions, and the coldness sometimes +seen in her beautiful eyes, were these the results of suffering? She +questioned Miss Sabrina a little.</p> + +<p>“She has always been the same, except that since her second marriage she +is much more quiet,” replied the unconscious aunt. “Until then she was +like quicksilver, she used to run through the thickets so swiftly that +no one could follow her, and she used to play ball by the hour with—” +Here the speaker paused, disconcerted.</p> + +<p>“With Jack,” Eve added, her face contracting with the old pain.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina had at last perceived this pain, and the discovery had +stopped her affectionate allusions. But she did not forget—Eve often +found her carefully<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> made wreaths laid upon Jack’s grave. As for Eve +herself, she never brought a flower; she walked to and fro beside the +mound, and the sojourn generally ended in angry thoughts. Why should +other people keep their loved ones, and she be bereft? What had she +done, what had Jack done, that was so wrong? God was not good, because +He was not kind; people did not ask Him to create them, but when once He +had done it for His own pleasure, and there they were, helpless, in His +world, why should He torture them so? To make them better? Why didn’t He +make them better in the beginning, when He was creating them? Or else +not make them at all!</p> + +<p>One afternoon during the fourth week after their return to Romney, she +was on her way back with Miss Sabrina from Singleton Island; the two had +been dining there, the Southern three-o’clock dinner, and now at sunset +the row-boat was bringing them home. To Eve the visit had been like a +day’s truce, a short period, when one merely waits; the afternoon was +beautiful, the Sound like a mirror; the home-island, when they left it, +had been peacefully lovely, the baby from his wagon kissing his hand to +them, and Dilsey squatting on the bank by his side, a broad grin of +contentment on her dusky face. Cicely had declined the invitation, +sending a jocular message to “little Rupert,” which inspired him with +laughter all day.</p> + +<p>The dinner had been excellent as regards the succulence of its South +Carolina dishes. The damask tablecloth was thin from age, the +dinner-service a mixture of old Canton blue and the commonest, thickest +white plates; coarse dull goblets stood beside cut-glass wine-glasses; +the knives were in the<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a> last stage of decrepitude, and there was no +silver at all, not even a salt-spoon; it had been replaced by cheaply +plated spoons and forks, from which the plate was already half gone. +Blanche, the old negro woman, waited, assisted by the long-legged +Lucasta, and by little Boliver, who was attired for the occasion in a +pair of trousers which extended from his knees to his shoulders, over +which they were tightly strapped by means of strings. Boliver’s part was +to bring the hot dishes from the outside kitchen, which was in a cabin +at some distance—a task which he performed with dignity, varied, +however, by an occasional somerset on the veranda, when he thought no +one was looking. Rupert was genial, very gallant to the ladies; he +carried his gallantry so far that he even drank their health several +times, the only wine being the mainland Madeira. Mrs. Singleton was +hospitable and affectionate, remaining unconscious (in manner) as to the +many deficiencies. And Eve looked on admiringly, as though it had been a +beautiful, half-pathetic little play; for to her it was all +pictorial—these ruined old houses on their blooming desolate islands, +with the ancient hospitality still animating them in spite of all that +had passed. The short voyage over, the row-boat stopped at Romney +landing. There was no one waiting for them; Abram assisted Miss Sabrina, +and then Eve, to step from one of the boat’s seats to the dock. Eve +lingered for a moment, looking at the sunset; then she too turned +towards the house. The path winding under the trees was already dusky, +Miss Sabrina was a dozen yards in advance; as she approached a bend, Eve +saw some one come round it and meet her. It was a figure too tall to be +the judge; it was a young<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a> man; it was a person she had not seen; she +made these successive discoveries as she drew nearer. She decided that +it was a neighbor from one of the southern islands, who had taken +advantage of the lovely afternoon for a sail.</p> + +<p>When she came up she found Miss Sabrina half laughing, half crying; she +had given the stranger both her hands. “Oh, Eve, it is Ferdinand. And I +did not know him!”</p> + +<p>“How could you expect to know me, when you have never seen me in your +life?” asked the young man, laughing.</p> + +<p>“But we have your picture. I ought to have known—”</p> + +<p>“My dear aunt, never accuse yourself; your dearest friends will always +do that for you. I dare say my picture doesn’t half do me justice.”</p> + +<p>He spoke jestingly; but there was still twilight enough to show Eve that +what he had said was simply the truth. The photograph was handsome, but +the real face was handsomer, the features beautiful, the eyes blue and +piercing.</p> + +<p>“This is Cicely’s sister Eve,” said Miss Sabrina. “She has come out—so +kindly—from England to pay us a visit.”</p> + +<p>Ferdinand put out his hand with a bright smile. He had a smile which +would have been a fitting one for a typical figure of youthful Hope.</p> + +<p>Eve could not refuse, conspicuously, to give him her hand in return. It +all seemed to her a dream—his sudden appearance in the dusky path, and +his striking beauty. She did not speak. But her muteness passed +unnoticed, because for once in her life Miss Sabrina was voluble, her +words tumbled over<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a> one another. “Such a surprise! <i>So</i> nice! <i>so</i> +delightful! How little we thought this morning, when we rose as usual, +and everything was the same—how little we thought that it would be such +a sweet, such a happy day!”</p> + +<p>Ferdinand laughed again, throwing back his handsome head a little—a +movement that was habitual with him. He gave Miss Sabrina his arm, drew +her hand through it and held it in his own, as they moved onward towards +the house. On the veranda, Cicely was waiting for them, her cheeks +flushed with pink. Eve expected a defiant look, a glance that would dare +her to express either her surprise or her fear; instead of that, +Cicely’s eyes, meeting hers, were full of trust and sweetness, as if she +believed that Eve would sympathize with her joy, as if she had entirely +forgotten that there was any reason why Eve should not share it. Miss +Sabrina sympathized, if Eve did not; she kissed Cicely with a motherly +tenderness, and then, as she raised her wet eyes again towards +Ferdinand, she looked so extraordinarily pleased that the young man bent +and kissed her faded cheek. “There, auntie,” he said, “now we’ve made +acquaintance; you must take me in as a genuine nephew. And improve me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, improve,” murmured Miss Sabrina, gazing at him near-sightedly. She +put on her glasses (without turning her back) in order to see him more +clearly. It marked a great emotion on her part—the not turning her +back.</p> + +<p>Eve went to her room; she thought that Cicely would follow her. But no +one came until Powlyne knocked to say that tea was ready. At first Eve +thought that she would not go to the dining-room,<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a> that she would send +an excuse. The next moment she felt driven not only to go, but to +hasten; to be always present in order to see everything and hear +everything; this would be her office; she must watch for the incipient +stages of what she dreaded. Cicely had said that it happened rarely. +Would to God that the man would be touched by poor Miss Sabrina’s loving +welcome, and by little Cicely’s deep joy, and refrain. But perhaps these +very things would excite the longing that led to the madness!</p> + +<p>When she reached the dining-room and saw the bright faces at the table, +Miss Sabrina looking younger than she had looked for years, and wearing +the white lace cape, Cicely, too, freshly dressed, and Ferdinand, they +seemed to her like phantasmagoria. Or was it that these were the +realities, and the phantasms the frightful visions which had haunted her +nightly during all these waiting weeks?</p> + +<p>As Ferdie talked (already Miss Sabrina had begun to call him Ferdie), it +was impossible not to listen; there was a frankness in what he said, and +in his sunny smile, which was irresistibly winning. And the contrast +between these and his height and strength—this too was attractive. They +sat long at the table; Eve felt that she was the foreign element, not +he; that she was the stranger within their gates. She had made no change +in her dress; suddenly it occurred to her that Ferdie must hate her for +her mourning garb, which of course would bring Jack Bruce to his mind. +As she thought of this, she looked at him. His eyes happened to meet +hers at the moment, and he gave her a charming smile. No, there was no +hate there. In the drawing-room, later, he told them comical stories of +South<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a> America; he took Cicely’s guitar and sang South American songs; +the three women sat looking at him, Cicely in her mute bliss, Miss +Sabrina with her admiration and her interest, Eve with her perplexity. +His hand, touching the strings, was well-shaped, powerful; was that the +hand which had struck a woman? A little child? As the evening wore on, +she almost began to believe that Cicely had invented the whole of her +damning tale; that the baby’s arm had never been broken, and that her +own hurts had been received in some other way. She looked at Cicely. But +there was something very straightforward in her pure little face.</p> + +<p>At ten o’clock she rose. Cicely made no motion, she was evidently not +coming with her.</p> + +<p>“Can I speak to you for a moment, Cicely?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” answered Cicely, with alacrity. “What is it?” She followed +Eve into the hall.</p> + +<p>Eve closed the door; then she drew her into the dining-room, which was +still lighted. “You said he would not come here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” with a long breath; “he never would do it for me before, though I +asked him, and asked him. And yet he has done it now! Think of that!”</p> + +<p>Eve put her hands on Cicely’s shoulders as if to keep her, to call her +back to realities. “Have you forgotten all you said that night at Mrs. +Cray’s?”</p> + +<p>Cicely gave a joyful laugh. “Yes.” Then, more defiantly, “Yes, I have +forgotten the whole!” But her tone changed back swiftly to its happy +confidence again: “Nothing will happen, Eve; you needn’t be afraid.”</p> + +<p>“Has he told you so?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we never <i>speak</i> of it,” answered Cicely, looking<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a> at her with +large, surprised eyes. “Did you think we <i>spoke</i> of it—of such a thing +as that? A husband and wife—people who love each other? But you needn’t +be troubled; it’s over forever.” She disappeared.</p> + +<p>Eve waited a moment; then she went to her room. Before she reached her +door Cicely overtook her; she had run swiftly after her down the long +corridor. She put her arms round Eve from behind, and whispered, with +her lips against Eve’s throat, “I ran after you to say that I hope that +<i>you</i> will have, some day, as much happiness as mine.” Then she was +gone, as swiftly as she had come.</p> + +<p>To wish her a love like her own, this seemed almost a curse, a +malediction. But, fortunately, there was no danger that she, Eve Bruce, +should ever fall a victim to such miseries; to love any man so +submissively was weakness, but to love as Cicely loved, that was +degradation!</p> + +<p>Her image gazed back at her from the mirror, fair in its tints, but +strangely, almost fiercely, proud; at that moment she was revolting, +dumbly, against the injustice of all the ages, past, present, and to +come, towards women.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX.</h2> + +<p>F<small>ERDIE</small> had been two weeks at Romney.</p> + +<p>Halcyon days they had seemed, each one beautiful from morning to night, +with blue skies and golden sunshine; blossoms covered the trees, the air +was full of perfume. Ferdie must always be doing something; besides the +hunting and fishing, he had<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a> made a new swing, a new dock; he had taught +the negroes base-ball; he had rowed and sailed hither and thither—up +the river, out to sea, and north and south along the sounds, paying +visits at the various islands when Cicely desired them. Every one was +delighted with him, from Miss Sabrina down to the smallest darky; the +captains of the Inland Route steamers grew accustomed to seeing him on +the dock at Jupiter Light; the store-keeper on the mainland opposite +looked out every morning for his sail coming across the Sound. Cicely, +in the same state of mute bliss, accompanied him everywhere; Miss +Sabrina went whenever the excursion was not too long. The negroes +followed him about in a troop; of their own accord they gave him the +title of “young marse.”</p> + +<p>Through these days Eve felt herself an alien; Cicely said nothing to her +save when she was with the others; she never came to her in her own +room. And Eve could not feel that this neglect was caused by dislike; it +was simply the egotism of perfect happiness. When Eve was present, +Cicely talked to her; when she was not present, Cicely hardly remembered +her existence. Miss Sabrina was not quite so forgetful, but she too was +absorbed; Eve sometimes sat all the evening without speaking; +fortunately she could make her stay short, under the pretext of not +disturbing Jack by coming in late. She was not a timid woman, not a +woman easily disheartened; each long, solitary day (for she seldom +accompanied them), each silent evening, only strengthened her purpose of +carrying away the child. She kept him with her constantly; Cicely +allowed it, and Ferdie, after one or two good-natured attempts<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a> to carry +off the little boy for a romp, left him undisturbed to his aunt. Whether +Cicely had told him to do this, Eve did not know.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, Ferdie talked to her more than the others did. Several +times, seeing her in the grove with Jack, he had come out to join her. +And always, as he approached, Eve would make some excuse, and send the +child farther away; this action on her part was involuntary. One morning +she had gone to the beach. She had been there half an hour when she saw +his figure emerging from the bush-bordered road. “Take Jack away,” she +said quickly to Dilsey.</p> + +<p>Dilsey, vexed at being ordered off when handsome “young marse” was +approaching, took her charge round a point entirely out of sight, so +that Eve and Ferdie were alone. The child gone, Eve could turn all her +attention to the man by her side; her watching mood came upon her, the +mood in which she spent her evenings. Ferdie had thrown himself down on +the sand; handsome as he was, Eve had discovered faults in his face; the +features were in danger of becoming too sharp; a little more, and the +cheeks would be thin. The mouth had a flattening at the corners, a +partly unconscious, partly voluntary action of the muscles, like that +which accompanies a “dare” (so Eve described it to herself) on the part +of a boy who has come off conqueror in one fight, but who is expecting +another and severer one in a moment. This expression (it was visible +when he was silent) and a look in his eyes sometimes—these two things +seemed to Eve signs of the curse. They were slight signs, however; they +would not have been discovered by one woman in a thousand;<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a> for Ferdie +was not only handsome, there was also something charming about him. But +Eve had small admiration for the charming.</p> + +<p>To-day, as Ferdie lounged beside her, she determined to try an +experiment.</p> + +<p>“I am very anxious to have Jack,” she began.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me that you do have him; it’s a complete possession,” +answered Ferdie, laughing; “I’ve scarcely been able to touch the +youngster since I came.”</p> + +<p>“I mean that I want him to live with me, as though he were my own child; +I would bring him up with all possible care.”</p> + +<p>“Have you made a vow, then, never to marry?” Ferdie demanded, looking at +her with a merry gleam in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Should you object—if Cicely were willing to give him to me?” Eve +continued, a slight haughtiness in her manner alone replying to his +remark.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I couldn’t, though I’m fond of the little chap.” (“Fond!” Eve +thought. She looked at him, with parted lips, in suspense.) “But I can’t +imagine Cicely’s consenting,” Ferdie went on; “she is devoted to the +child.”</p> + +<p>“Not so much as she is to you.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want <i>me</i> to urge her to give him to you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“Why do you want him? For your own pleasure?”</p> + +<p>Eve hesitated a moment. “Partly.”</p> + +<p>“Are you by any possibility fancying that you can take better care of +him than we can?” asked Ferdie, relapsing into his laugh, and sending +another<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a> pebble skimming over the shining waters. “Leaving Cicely aside, +I am the jolliest of fathers.”</p> + +<p>“It must be that he does not know,” Eve thought; “whatever his faults, +hypocrisy is not one of them.”</p> + +<p>But this only made him the more terrible to her—a man who could change +so unconsciously into a savage.</p> + +<p>“Granting the jolliness, I wish you would ask Cicely,” she said; “do it +for my sake. I am lonely, I shall grow lonelier. It would be everything +to me to have him.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you will grow lonelier,” said Ferdie. He turned towards her, +leaning on his elbow. “Come, let me advise you; don’t be a forlorn old +maid. All women ought to marry; it is much better for them.”</p> + +<p>“Are they then so sure to be happy?” asked Eve, sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“Of course they are.—The nice ones.”</p> + +<p>Eve looked at him. “Even when married to brutes?—to madmen?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you wouldn’t select a brute. As for the madmen, they are locked +up,” answered Ferdie, comfortably.</p> + +<p>Eve rose. “I don’t know what I shall say next—if I stay here,” was her +thought.</p> + +<p>“I wish you knew my brother Paul,” remarked Ferdie as he lifted himself +from the sand. “<i>I</i> can’t argue with you, <i>I</i> can’t put you down” (his +smile as he said “put you down” was wonderfully sweet). “But he +could—Paul could; and what’s more, he would, too! He hates a woman who +goes on as you do.”</p> + +<p>“Your brother lives in Canada, I believe?” said Eve, coldly.<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a></p> + +<p>“Canada?—what gave you that idea? He loathes Canada. He has charge of a +mine on Lake Superior. He has always worked tremendously hard, poor old +Paul! I have never approved of it, such a steady grind as that.”</p> + +<p>“What is the name of the place?”</p> + +<p>“Port aux Pins; called by the natives Potterpins. Are you thinking of +going there?”</p> + +<p>“I may,” Eve answered. Her tone was defiant in spite of herself; what +did she care for Port aux Pins and his brother, save for their +connection with his wretched self?</p> + +<p>They had begun to walk towards home; Dilsey was in advance with Jack. “I +beg you to urge Cicely to let me have him,” Eve began again, her eyes +resting on Jack’s little wagon.</p> + +<p>“You have made up your mind to ask a favor of me; you must want it +terribly,” Ferdie responded. He took off his hat and let the breeze blow +over his forehead. “I will do what I can for you. Of course we cannot, +Cicely and I, give up her child to you entirely; but he might live with +you for part of the year, as you desire it so much. My intention is to +go back to Valparaiso; I like the life there, and I shall make it my +home; there are excellent houses to be had, I have one in view at this +moment. Later, of course, Cicely would wish her boy to come to her +there. But in the meantime, while he is still so young—yes, I will do +what I can for you; you may count upon me.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” answered Eve. Her words were humble, but she did not look +humble as she spoke them; Ferdie with his favors and his good-nature +seemed to her more menacing than ever.<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a></p> + +<p>The tranquil life went on. Every morning she said to herself, “To-day +something must happen!” But the Arcadian hours continued, and two more +weeks passed slowly by. Eve began to hate the sunshine, the brilliant, +undimmed southern stars.</p> + +<p>“My dear, you are growing paler,” said Miss Sabrina one day. “Perhaps +this sea-air of ours is not good for you.”</p> + +<p>Eve wanted to reply: “Is it good to be watching every instant?—to be +listening and starting and thinking one hears something?” “You are +right; it is not,” she answered aloud; “all the same, I will stay awhile +longer, if you will let me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear—when we want you to <i>live</i> here!”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I shall die here,” Eve responded, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina looked at her in surprise; for the laugh was neither gentle +nor sweet.</p> + +<p>Eve was tired, tired mentally and physically; this state of passive +waiting taxed her; action of some sort, even though accompanied by the +hardest conditions, would have been easier to her ardent unconquered +will. She occupied herself with Jack; she said as little as she could to +Ferdie; and she watched Cicely. Underneath this watchfulness there grew +up a strong contempt for love.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X.</h2> + +<p>“E<small>VE</small>!” A hand on Eve’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>Eve sat up in bed with a start; Cicely stood beside her, candle in hand. +“Help me to dress Jack,” she said.<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a></p> + +<p>Eve was out of bed in an instant. She lighted her own candle.</p> + +<p>Cicely lifted the sleeping child from his crib, and began hastily to +dress him. Eve brought all the little garments quickly. “Are you going +to take him out of the house?” she asked. (They spoke in whispers.)</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Eve threw on her own clothes.</p> + +<p>After a moment, during which the hands of both women moved rapidly, Eve +said, “Where is he?”</p> + +<p>“Outside—out of the house for the moment. But he will come back; and +then, if he comes down this hall, we must escape.”</p> + +<p>“Where? We must have the same ideas, you know,” said Eve, buttoning her +dress, and taking her hat and shawl from the wardrobe.</p> + +<p>“I thought we could go through the ballroom, and out by the north wing.”</p> + +<p>“And once outside?”</p> + +<p>“We must hide.”</p> + +<p>“But where?”</p> + +<p>“In the thicket.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t a very large space. Supposing Jack should cry?”</p> + +<p>Cicely went on fastening Jack’s little coat. “I can’t talk!”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t,” said Eve; “I’ll take care of you!”</p> + +<p>The hasty dressing completed, the two candles were extinguished. Jack +had fallen asleep again. Cicely held him herself; she would not let Eve +take him. They opened the door softly, and stood together outside in the +dark hall. The seconds passed and turned into minutes; the minutes +became<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a> three, then five; but the space of time seemed a half-hour. Eve, +standing still in the darkness, recovered her coolness; she stepped +noiselessly back into her room for a moment or two; then she returned +and resumed the watch. Cicely’s little figure standing beside her looked +very small.</p> + +<p>By-and-by the door at the far end of the hall opened, and for the first +time in her life Eve saw a vision: Ferdie, half dressed and carrying a +lighted candle, appeared, his eyes fierce and fixed, his cheeks flushed. +At that moment his beauty was terrible; but he saw nothing, heard +nothing; he was like a man listening to something afar off.</p> + +<p>“Come,” whispered Cicely.</p> + +<p>Swiftly and noiselessly she went round the angle of the corridor, opened +a door, and, closing it behind them, led the way to the north wing; Eve +followed, or rather she kept by her side. After a breathless winding +transit through the labyrinth of halls and chambers, they reached the +ballroom.</p> + +<p>“Now we can run,” Cicely whispered. Silently they ran.</p> + +<p>Before they had quite reached the door at the far end, they heard a +sound behind them, and saw a gleam across the floor: he had not waited +in Eve’s room, then; he had divined their flight, and was following. +Cicely’s hand swiftly found and lifted the latch; she opened the door, +and they passed through. Eve gave one glance over her shoulder; he was +advancing, but he was not running; his eyes had the same stare.</p> + +<p>Cicely threw up a window, gave Jack to Eve, climbed by the aid of a +chair to the sill and jumped out; then she put up her arms for Jack, and +Eve<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a> followed her; they drew down the window behind them from the +outside. There was a moon, but dark clouds obscured its light; the air +was still. Cicely led the way to the thicket; pushing her way within, +she sank down, the bushes crackling loudly as she did so. “Hurry!” she +said to Eve.</p> + +<p>Eve crouched beside her beneath the dense foliage. They could see +nothing, but they could hear. They remained motionless.</p> + +<p>After several minutes of suspense they heard a step on the plank floor +of the veranda; he had made his way out. Then followed silence; the +silence was worse than the sound of his steps; they had the sense that +he was close upon them.</p> + +<p>After some time without another sound, suddenly his candle gleamed +directly over them; he had approached them unheard by the road, Eve not +knowing and Cicely having forgotten that it was so near. For an instant +Eve’s heart stopped beating, she thought that they were discovered; +escape was cut off, for the thorns and spiny leaves held their skirts +like so many hands. But the fixed eyes did not see them; after a moment +the beautiful, cruel face, lit by the yellow gleam of the candle, +disappeared from above; the light moved farther away. He was going down +the road; every now and then they could see that he threw a ray to the +right and the left, as if still searching.</p> + +<p>“He will go through the whole thicket, now that he has the idea,” Cicely +whispered. They crept into the road, Eve carrying Jack. But, once +outside, Cicely took him again. They stood erect, they looked back; he +and his candle were still going on towards the sea.<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a></p> + +<p>Cicely turned; she took a path which led to the north point. “There’s no +thicket there. And if he comes, there’s a boat.”</p> + +<p>The distance to the point was nearly a mile. The white sand of the track +guided them through the dark woods.</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t you be safer, after all, in the house?” Eve asked.</p> + +<p>“No, for this time he is determined to kill us; he thinks that I am some +one else, a woman who is going to attack his wife; and he thinks that +Jack is some other child, who has injured <i>his</i> Jack.”</p> + +<p>“He shall never touch Jack! Give him to me, Cicely; he is too heavy for +you.”</p> + +<p>“I will not give him to any one—any one,” Cicely answered, panting.</p> + +<p>As they approached the north point, the moon shone through a rift in the +clouds; suddenly it was as light as day; their faces and hands were +ivory white in the radiance.</p> + +<p>“What is that on your throat, and down the front of your dress?” said +Eve. “It’s wet. Why, it’s blood!”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I am cut here a little,” Cicely answered, making a gesture with +her chin towards her left shoulder; “I suppose it has begun to bleed +again. He has a knife to-night. That is what makes me so afraid.”</p> + +<p>The Sound now came into view. At the same instant Eve, looking back, +perceived a point of yellow light behind them; the path was straight for +a long distance, and the light was far away; but it was advancing in +their direction. Little Jack, fully awakened by their rapid flight, had +lifted his head,<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a> trying to see his mother’s face; as no one paid any +attention to him, he began to cry. His voice seemed to make Cicely +frantic; clasping him close, pressing his head down against her breast, +she broke into a run.</p> + +<p>“Get into the boat and push off, don’t wait for me; <i>I’m</i> in no danger,” +Eve called after her. She stood there watching.</p> + +<p>Cicely reached the beach, put Jack into the boat, and then tried to push +it off. It was a heavy old row-boat, kept there for the convenience of +the negroes who wished to cross to Singleton Island; to-night it was +drawn up so high on the sands that with all her effort Cicely could not +launch it. She strained every muscle to the utmost; in her ears there +was a loud rushing sound; she paused dizzily, turning her head away from +the water for a moment, and as she did so, she too saw the gleam, pale +in the moonlight, far down the path. She did not scream, there was a +tension in her throat which kept all sound from her parched mouth; she +climbed into the boat, seized Jack, and staggered forward with the vague +purpose of jumping into the water from the boat’s stern; but she did not +get far, she sank suddenly down.</p> + +<p>“She has fainted; so much the better,” Eve thought. Jack, who had fallen +as his mother fell, cried loudly. “He is not hurt; at least not +seriously,” she said to herself. Then, turning into the wood, she made +her way back towards the advancing point of light. After some progress +she stopped.</p> + +<p>Ferdie was walking rapidly now; in his left hand he held his candle high +in the air; in his right, which hung by his side, there was something +that<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a> gleamed. The moonlight shone full upon his face, and Eve could see +the expression, whose slight signs she had noticed, the flattening of +the corners of the mouth; this was now so deepened that his lips wore a +slight grin. Jack’s wail, which had ceased for several minutes, now +began again, and at the same instant his moving head could be seen above +the boat’s side; he had disengaged himself, and was trying to climb up +higher, by the aid of one of the seats, in order to give larger vent to +his astonishment and his grief.</p> + +<p>Ferdie saw him; his shoulders made a quick movement; an inarticulate +sound came from his flattened, grimacing mouth. Then he began to run +towards the boat. At the same moment there was the crack, not loud, of a +pistol discharged very near. The running man lunged forward and fell +heavily to his knees; then to the sand. His arms made one or two +spasmodic movements. Then they were still.</p> + +<p>Eve’s figure went swiftly through the wood towards the shore; she held +her skirts closely, as if afraid of their rustling sound. Reaching the +boat, she made a mighty effort, both hands against the bow, her body +slanting forward, her feet far behind her, deep in the sand and pressing +against it. She was very strong, and the boat moved, it slid down slowly +and gratingly; more and more of its long length entered the water, until +at last only the bow still touched the sand. Eve jumped in, pushed off +with an oar, and then, stepping over Cicely’s prostrate form to reach +one of the seats, she sat down and began to row, brushing little Jack +aside with her knee (he fell down more amazed and grief-stricken than +ever), and placing her feet against the next seat as a<a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a> brace. She rowed +with long strokes and with all her might; perhaps he was not much hurt, +after all; perhaps he too had a pistol, and could reach them. She +watched the beach breathlessly.</p> + +<p>The Sound was smooth; before long a wide space of water, with the +silvery path of the moon across it, separated them from Abercrombie +Island. Still she could not stop. She looked at Cicely’s motionless +figure; Jack, weary with crying, had crawled as far as one of her knees +and laid his head against it, sobbing “Aunty Eve? Aunty Eve?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, darling,” said Eve, mechanically, still watching the other shore.</p> + +<p>At last, with her hands smarting, her arms strained, she reached +Singleton Island. After beaching the boat, she knelt down and chafed +Cicely’s temples, wetting her handkerchief by dipping it over the boat’s +side, and then pressing it on the dead-white little face. Cicely sighed. +Then she opened her eyes and looked up, only half consciously, at the +sky. Next she looked at Eve, who was bending over her, and memory came +back.</p> + +<p>“We are safe,” Eve said, answering the look; “we are on Singleton +Island, and no one is following us.” She lifted the desperate little +Jack and put him in his mother’s arms.</p> + +<p>Cicely sat up, she kissed her child passionately. But she fell back +again, Eve supporting her.</p> + +<p>“Let me see that—that place,” Eve said. With nervous touch she turned +down the little lace ruffle, which was dark and limp with the stain of +the life-tide.</p> + +<p>“It’s nothing,” murmured Cicely. The cut had missed its aim, it was low +down on the throat, near<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a> the collar-bone; it was a flesh-wound, not +dangerous.</p> + +<p>Cicely pushed away Eve’s hands and sat up. “Where is Ferdie?” she +demanded.</p> + +<p>“He—he is on the other island,” Eve answered, hesitatingly. “Don’t you +remember that he followed us?—that we were trying to escape?”</p> + +<p>“Well, we have escaped,” said Cicely. “And now I want to know where he +is.”</p> + +<p>She got on her feet, stepped out of the boat to the sand, and lifted +Jack out; she muffled the child in a shawl, and made him walk with her +to the edge of the water. Here she stood looking at the home-island, +straining her eyes in the misty moonlight.</p> + +<p>Eve followed her. “I think the farther away we go, Cicely, the better; +at least for the present. The steamer stops at Singleton Landing at +dawn; we can go on board as we are, and get what is necessary in +Savannah.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t I see him on the beach?” said Cicely. “I could see him if he +were there—I could see him walking. If he followed us, as you say, why +don’t I see him!” She put a hand on each side of her mouth, making a +circle of them, and called with all her strength, “Ferdie? Fer-die?”</p> + +<p>“Are you mad?” said Eve.</p> + +<p>“Fer-die?” cried Cicely again.</p> + +<p>Eve pulled down her hands. “He can’t hear you.”</p> + +<p>“Why can’t he?” said Cicely, turning and looking at her.</p> + +<p>“It’s too far,” answered Eve, in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he has gone for a boat,” Cicely suggested.</p> + +<p>“Yes, perhaps he has,” Eve assented, eagerly.<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a> And for a moment the two +women gazed southward with the same hopefulness.</p> + +<p>Then Eve came back to reality. “What are we thinking of? Do you want to +have Jack killed?”</p> + +<p>Cicely threw up her arms. “Oh, if it weren’t for Jack!” Her despair at +that moment gave her majesty.</p> + +<p>“Give him to me; let <i>me</i> take him away,” urged Eve again.</p> + +<p>“I will never give him to any one; I will never leave him, never.”</p> + +<p>“Then you must both go with me for the present; we will go farther north +than Savannah; we will go to New York.”</p> + +<p>“There is only one place I will go to—one person, and that is Paul; +Ferdie <i>loves</i> Paul;—I will go nowhere else.”</p> + +<p>“Very well; we will go to Paul.”</p> + +<p>The struggle was over; Cicely’s voice had grown lifeless. Little Jack, +tired out, laid himself despairingly down on the sand; she sat down +beside him, rearranged the shawl under him and over him, and then, as he +fell asleep, she clasped her hands round her knees, and waited inertly, +her eyes fixed on the opposite beach.</p> + +<p>Eve, standing behind her, also watched the home-island. “If I could only +see him!” was her constant prayer. She was even ready to accept the +sight of a boat shooting from the shadows which lay dark on the western +side, a boat coming in pursuit; he would have had time, perhaps, to get +to the skiff which was kept on that side, not far from the point; he +knew where all the boats were. Five minutes—six—had elapsed since they +landed; yes, he would<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a> have had time. She looked and looked; she was +almost sure that she saw a boat advancing, and clasped her hands in joy.</p> + +<p>But where could they go, in case he should really come? To Singleton +House, where there was only a lame old man, and women? There was no door +there which he could not batter down, no lock which could keep him +out—the terrible, beautiful madman. No; it was better to think, to +believe, that he <i>could</i> not come.</p> + +<p>She walked back to the trees that skirted the beach, leaned her clasped +arms against the trunk of one of them, and, laying her head upon the arm +that was uppermost, stood motionless.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI.</h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> dawn was still very faint when the steamer stopped at Singleton +Landing. There was no one waiting save an old negro, who caught the +shore rope, and there was no one stirring on the boat save the gruff +captain, muffled in an overcoat though the night was warm, and two +deck-hands, who put ashore a barrel and a sack. Lights were burning +dimly on board; the negro on the dock carried a lantern.</p> + +<p>Two women came from the shadows, and crossed the plank to the lower +deck, entering the dark space within, which was encumbered with loose +freight—crates of fowls, boxes, barrels, coils of rope. The taller of +the two women carried a sleeping child.</p> + +<p>For Cicely had come to the end of her strength; she could hardly walk.<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a></p> + +<p>Eve found the sleepy mulatto woman who answered to the name of +stewardess, and told her to give them a cabin immediately.</p> + +<p>“Cabin? Why, de cabin’s dish-yere,” answered the woman, making a motion +with her hand to indicate the gaudy little saloon in which they stood. +She surveyed them with wonder.</p> + +<p>“State-room,” murmured Cicely.</p> + +<p>Upon the lower bed in the very unstately white cell which was at last +opened for them, her little figure was soon stretched out, +apathetically. Her eyes remained closed; the dawn, as it grew brighter, +did not tempt her to open them; she lay thus all day. Jack slept +profoundly for several hours on the shelf-like bed above her. Then he +woke, and instantly became very merry, laughing to see the shining green +water outside, the near shores, the houses and groves and fields, and +now and then a row-boat under sail. Eve brought him some bread and milk, +and then she gave him a bath; he gurgled with laughter, and played all +his little tricks and games, one after the other. But Cicely remained +inert, she could not have been more still if she had been dead; the rise +and fall of her chest as she breathed was so slight that Eve was obliged +to look closely in order to distinguish it at all. Just before they +reached Savannah she raised her to a sitting position, and held a cup of +coffee to her lips. Cicely drank. Then, as the steamer stopped, Eve +lifted her to her feet.</p> + +<p>Cicely’s eyes opened; they looked at Eve reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“It will only take a few moments to go to the hotel,” Eve answered.<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a></p> + +<p>She called the stewardess and made her carry Jack; she herself half +carried Cicely. She signalled to the negro driver of one of the +carriages waiting at the dock, and in a few minutes, as she had said, +she was undressing her little sister-in-law and lifting her into a cool, +broad bed.</p> + +<p>Jack asleep, she began her watch. The sun was setting, she went to one +of the windows, and looked out. Below her was a wide street without +pavement, bordered on each side by magnificent trees. She could see this +avenue for a long distance; the perspective made by its broad roadway +was diversified, every now and then, by a clump of greenery standing in +the centre, with a fountain or a statue gleaming through the green. +Trees were everywhere; it was a city in a grove. She remembered her +first arrival off this coast, when she came from England,—Tybee Light, +and then the lovely river; now she was passing through the same city, +fleeing from—danger?—or was it from justice? Twilight deepened; she +left the window and sat down beside the shaded lamp; her hands were +folded upon her lap, her gaze was fixed unseeingly upon the carpet. +After ten minutes had passed, she became conscious of something, and +raised her eyes; Cicely was looking at her. Eve rose and went to her. +“Are we in Savannah?” Cicely asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Cicely continued to look at her. “If you really want me to go on, you +had better take me at once.”</p> + +<p>“But you were too tired to go on—”</p> + +<p>“It is not a question of tired, I shall be tired all my life. But if you +don’t want me to go back by<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a> the first boat to-morrow, you had better +take me away to-night.”</p> + +<p>“By the midnight train,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>And at midnight they left Savannah.</p> + +<p>At Charleston they were obliged to wait; there had been a flood, and the +track was overflowed.</p> + +<p>Some purchases were necessary for their comfort; Eve did not dare to +leave Cicely with Jack, lest she should find them both gone on her +return; she therefore took them with her, saying to the negro coachman, +privately, “If that lady should tell you to return to the hotel or to +drive to the steamer when I am not with you, pay no attention to her; +she is ill, and not responsible for what she says.”</p> + +<p>As she was coming out of a shop, a face she knew met her eyes—Judge +Abercrombie. He had come from Gary Hundred that morning, and was on his +way to Romney; he intended to take the evening boat.</p> + +<p>He recognized them; he hurried to the carriage door, astonished, +alarmed. Eve seemed cowed by his presence. It was Cicely who said, “Yes, +we are here, grandpa. Get in, and I will tell you why.”</p> + +<p>But when the old man had placed himself opposite to her, when Eve had +taken her seat again and the carriage was rolling towards the hotel, +Cicely still remained mute. At last she leaned forward. “I can’t tell +you,” she said, putting her hand into his; “at least I can’t tell you +now. Will you wait, dear? Do wait.” Her voice, as she said this, was +like the voice of a little girl of ten.</p> + +<p>The old man, wondering, held her hand protectingly. He glanced at Eve. +But Eve’s eyes were turned away.<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a></p> + +<p>The drive was a short one. As they entered Cicely’s room, Eve took Jack +in her arms and went out again into the hall, closing the door behind +her.</p> + +<p>The hall was long, with a window at each end; a breeze blew through it, +laden with the perfume of flowers. Jack clamored for a game; Eve raised +him to her shoulder, and went to the window at the west end; it +overlooked a garden crowded with blossoms; then she turned and walked to +the east end, Jack considering it a march, and playing that her shoulder +was his drum; the second window commanded a view of the burned walls of +the desolated town. Eight times she made the slow journey from the +flowers to the ruins, the ruins to the flowers. Then Cicely opened the +door. “You can come in now. Grandpa knows.”</p> + +<p>Grandpa’s face, in his new knowledge, was pitiful to see. He had +evidently been trying to remain calm, and he had succeeded so far as to +keep his features firm; but his cheeks, which ordinarily were tinted +with pink, had turned to a dead-looking yellow. “I should be greatly +obliged if you would come with me for a walk,” he said to Eve; “I have +travelled down from Gary Hundred this morning, and, after being shut up +in the train, you know, one feels the need of fresh air.” He rose, and +gave first one leg and then the other a little shake, with a pathetic +pretence of preparing for vigorous exercise.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I can go,” Eve began. But a second glance at his +dead-looking face made her relent, or rather made her brace herself. She +rang the bell, and asked one of the chamber-maids to follow them with +Jack; once outside, she sent the girl forward. “I have taken Jack +because we cannot trust Cicely,”<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a> she explained. “If she had him, she +might, in our absence, take him and start back to the island; but she +will not go without him.”</p> + +<p>“Neither of them must go back,” said the judge. He spoke mechanically.</p> + +<p>They went down the shaded street towards the Battery. “And there’s +Sabrina, too, poor girl! How do we know what has happened to her!” Eve +hesitated. Then she said, slowly, “Cicely tells me that when these +attacks are on him, he is dangerous only to herself and Jack.”</p> + +<p>“That makes him only the greater devil!” answered the judge. “What I +fear is that he is already on her track; he would get over the attack +soon—he is as strong as an ox—and if he should reach her,—have a +chance at her with his damned repentant whinings—We must get off +immediately! In fact, I don’t understand why you are stopping here at +all,” he added, with sudden anger.</p> + +<p>“We couldn’t go on; the track is under water somewhere. And perhaps we +need not hurry so.” She paused. “I suppose you know that Cicely will go +only to Paul Tennant,” she added. “She refuses to go anywhere else.”</p> + +<p>“Where the devil is the man?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a place called Port aux Pins, on Lake Superior. I really think +that if we don’t take her to him at once, she will leave us and get back +to Ferdie, in spite of all we can do.”</p> + +<p>“If there’s no train, we’ll take a carriage, we’ll drive,” declared the +judge. “This is the first place he’ll come to; we won’t wait <i>here</i>!”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be a train this evening; they tell me so at the hotel,” Eve +answered. Then she waited a<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a> moment. “We shall have to stop on the way, +Cicely is so exhausted; I suppose we go to Pittsburgh, and then to +Cleveland to take the lake steamer; if you should write to Miss Sabrina +from here, the answer might meet us at one of those places.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I shall write. At once.”</p> + +<p>“No, don’t write!” said Eve, grasping his arm suddenly. “Or at least +don’t let her send any answer until the journey is ended. It’s better +not to know—not to know!”</p> + +<p>“Not to know whether poor Sabrina is safe? Not to know whether that +brute is on our track? I can’t imagine what you are thinking of; perhaps +you will kindly explain?”</p> + +<p>“It’s only that my head aches. I don’t know what I am saying!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you must be overwrought,” said the judge. He had been thinking +only of Cicely. “You protected my poor little girl, you brought her +away; it was a brave act,” he said, admiringly.</p> + +<p>“It was for Jack, I wanted to save my brother’s child. Surely that was +right?” Eve’s voice, as she said this, broke into a sob.</p> + +<p>“They were in danger of their lives, then?” asked the grandfather, in a +low tone. “Cicely didn’t tell me.”</p> + +<p>“She did not know, she had fainted. A few minutes more, and I believe he +would—We should not have them now.”</p> + +<p>“But you got the boat off in time.”</p> + +<p>“But I got the boat off in time,” Eve repeated, lethargically.</p> + +<p>They had now reached the Battery Park; they entered and sat down on one +of the benches; the negro<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a> girl played with Jack on the broad walk which +overlooks the water. The harbor, with Sumter in the distance, the two +rivers flowing down, one on each side of the beautiful city—beautiful +still, though desolated by war—made a scene full of loveliness. The +judge took off his hat, as if he needed more air.</p> + +<p>“You are ill,” said Eve, in the same mechanical voice.</p> + +<p>“It’s only that I cannot believe it even now—what Cicely told me. Why, +it is my own darling little grandchild, who has been treated so, who has +been beaten—struck to the floor! His strong hand has come down on <i>her</i> +shoulder so that you could hear it!—<i>Cicely</i>, Eve; my little <i>Cicely</i>!” +His old eyes, small and dry, looked at Eve piteously.</p> + +<p>She put out her hand and took his in silence.</p> + +<p>“She has always been such a delicate little creature, that we never let +her have any care or trouble; we even spoke to her gently always, +Sabrina and I. For she was so delicate when she was a baby that they +thought she couldn’t live; she had her bright eyes, even then, and she +was so pretty and winning; but they said she must soon follow her +mother. We were so glad when she began to grow stronger. But—have we +saved her for this?”</p> + +<p>“She is away from him now,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“And there was her father—my boy Marmaduke; what would Duke have +said?—his baby—his little girl!” He rose and walked to and fro; for +the first time his gait was that of a feeble old man.</p> + +<p>“They can’t know what happens to us here!—or else that they see some +way out of it that we do not see,” said Eve, passionately. “Otherwise, +it would be too cruel.”<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a></p> + +<p>“Duke died when she was only two years old,” the judge went on. +“‘Father, ’ he said to me, just at the last, ‘I leave you baby.’ And this +is what I have brought her to!”</p> + +<p>“You had nothing to do with it, she married him of her own free will. +And she forgot everything, she forgot my brother very soon.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what she forgot, I don’t care what she forgot,” the old +man answered. He sat down on the bench again, and put his hands over his +face. He was crying—the slow, hard tears of age.</p> + +<p>At sunset they started. The negro chamber-maid, to whom Jack had taken a +fancy, went with them as nurse, and twenty shining black faces were at +the station to see her off.</p> + +<p>“<i>Good-bye</i>, Porley; take keer yersef.”</p> + +<p>“Yere’s luck, Porley; doan yer forgot us.”</p> + +<p>“Step libely, Jonah; Porley’s a-lookin’ at yer.”</p> + +<p>“Good-lye, Porley!”</p> + +<p>The train moved out.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII.</h2> + +<p>A <small>DOCK</small> on the Cuyahoga River, at Cleveland. The high bows of a propeller +loomed up far above them; a wooden bridge, with hand-rails of rope, +extended from a square opening in its side to the place where they were +standing—the judge, bewildered by the deafening noise of the +letting-off of steam and by the hustling of the deck-hands who ran to +and fro putting on freight; little Jack, round-eyed with wonder, +surveying the scene from his nurse’s arms; Cicely, listless, unhearing; +and<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a> Eve, with the same pale-cheeked self-control and the same devoted +attention to Cicely which had marked her manner through all their rapid +journey across the broad country from Charleston to Washington, from +Washington to Pittsburgh, from Pittsburgh to Cleveland.</p> + +<p>“I think we cross here,” she said; “by this bridge.” She herself went +first. The bridge ascended sharply; little slats of wood were nailed +across its planks in order to make the surface less slippery. The yellow +river, greasy with petroleum from the refineries higher up the stream, +heaved a little from the constant passing of other craft; this heaving +made the bridge unsteady, and Eve was obliged to help the nurse when she +crossed with Jack, and then to lead Cicely, and to give a hand to the +judge, who came last.</p> + +<p>“You are never dizzy,” said the judge.</p> + +<p>“No, I am never dizzy,” Eve answered, as though she were saying the +phrase over to herself as a warning.</p> + +<p>She led the way up a steep staircase to the cabin above. This was a long +narrow saloon, decked with tables each covered with a red cloth, whereon +stood, in white vases representing a hand grasping a cornucopia, formal +bouquets, composed principally of peonies and the foliage of asparagus. +Narrow doors, ornamented with gilding, formed a panelling on each side; +between the doors small stiff sofas of red velvet were attached by iron +clamps to the floor, which was covered with a brilliant carpet; above +each sofa, under the low ceiling, was a narrow grating. Women and a few +men sat here and there on the sofas; they looked at the new passengers +apathetically.<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a> Lawless children chased one another up and down the +narrow spaces between the sofas and the tables, forcing each person who +was seated to draw in his or her legs with lightning rapidity as they +passed; babies with candy, babies with cookies, babies with apples, +crawled and tottered about on the velvet carpet, and drew themselves up +by the legs of the tables, leaving sticky marks on the mahogany +surfaces, and generally ending by striking their heads against the top, +sitting down suddenly and breaking into a howl. Eve led the way to the +deck; she brought forward chairs, and they seated themselves. A +regularly repeated and deafening clash came from the regions below; the +deck-hands were bringing steel rails from a warehouse on the dock, and +adding them one by one to the pile already on board by the simple method +of throwing them upon it. After the little party had sat there for +fifteen minutes, Eve said, “It is—it is insupportable!”</p> + +<p>“You feel it because you have not slept. You haven’t slept at all since +we started,” said Cicely, mentioning the fact, but without evident +interest in it.</p> + +<p>“Yes I have,” responded Eve, quickly.</p> + +<p>There came another tremendous clash. Eve visibly trembled; her cheeks +seemed to grow more wan, the line between her eyes deepened.</p> + +<p>“This noise must be stopped!” said the old planter, authoritatively. He +got up and went to the side.</p> + +<p>“<i>They</i> won’t stop,” said Cicely.</p> + +<p>Eve sat still, the tips of the fingers of each of her hands pressed hard +into the palm, and bits of her inner cheek held tightly between her +teeth. At last the rails were all on board and the gangways hauled<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a> in; +the propeller moved slowly away from her dock, a row of loungers, with +upturned faces, watching her departure, and visibly envying the captain, +who called out orders loudly from the upper deck—orders which were +needed; for the river was crowded with craft of all kinds, and many +manœuvres were necessary before the long steamer could turn herself +and reach the open lake. She passed out at last between two piers, down +which boys ran as fast as they could, racing with the engine to see +which should reach the end first. At last they were away, and the noises +ceased; there was only the regular throb of the machinery, the sound of +the water churned by the screw. The sun was setting; Eve looked at the +receding shores—the spires of Cleveland on the bluffs which rise from +the Cuyahoga, the mass of roofs extending to the east and the west, +bounded on the latter side by the pine-clad cliffs of Rocky River. After +the splendid flaming sunset, the lake grew suddenly dark; it looked as +vast and dusky as the ocean. Cicely sprang up. “I know I shall never +come back across all this water!—I know I never, never shall!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you will, little girl,” answered her grandfather, fondly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind. But I can’t stay here and think! They must be doing +something in there—all those people we saw in the cabin; I am going in +to see.” She went within, and Eve followed her; the nurse carried Jack +after his mother. But the judge remained where he was; he sat with one +hand laid over the other on the top of his cane. He looked at the dark +lake; his feeling was, “What is to become of us?”<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a></p> + +<p>Within, all was animation; the tables had been pushed together by a +troop of hurrying darkies in white aprons, and now the same troop were +bringing in small open dishes, some flat and some bowl-like, containing +an array of food which included everything from beefsteak to ice-cream. +The passengers occupying the sofas watched the proceedings; then, at the +sound of a tap on the gong, they rose and seated themselves on the round +stools which did duty as chairs.</p> + +<p>“Come,” said Cicely, “let us go too.” She seated herself; and again Eve +patiently followed her. Cicely tasted everything and ate nothing. Eve +neither tasted nor ate; she drank a glass of water. When the meal was +over she spoke to one of the waiters, and gave him a fee; ten minutes +later she carried out to the old man on the deck, with her own hands, a +tray containing freshly cooked food, toast and tea; she arranged these +on a bench under the hanging lamp (for the deck at the stern was +covered); then she drew up a chair. The judge had not stirred.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you come?” said Eve, gently. “I have brought it for you.”</p> + +<p>The judge rose, and, coming to the improvised table, sat down. He had +not thought that he could touch anything, but the hot tea roused him, +and before he knew it he was eating heartily. “Do you know, I—I believe +I was cold,” he said, trying to laugh. “Yes—even this warm night!”</p> + +<p>“I think we are all cold,” Eve answered; “we are all numbed. It will be +better when we get there—wherever it is.”</p> + +<p>The judge, warmed and revived, no longer felt so dreary. “You are our +good angel,” he said. And,<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> with his old-fashioned courtesy, he bent his +head over her hand.</p> + +<p>But Eve snatched her hand away and fled; she fairly ran. He looked after +her in wonder.</p> + +<p>Within, the tables had again been cleared, and then piled upon top of +one another at one end of the saloon; in front of this pile stretched a +row of chairs. These seats were occupied by the orchestra, the same +negro waiters, with two violins and a number of banjoes and guitars.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“Forward one; forward two—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">De engine keeps de time;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Leabe de lady in de centre,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bal-unse in er line,”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">sang the leader to the tune of “Nelly Bly,” calling off the figures of +the quadrille in rhymes of his own invention. Three quadrilles had been +formed; two thin women danced with their bonnets on; a tall man in a +linen duster and a short man in spectacles bounded about without a +smile, taking careful steps; girls danced with each other, giggling +profusely; children danced with their mothers; and the belle of the +boat, a plump young woman with long curls, danced with two youths, +changing impartially after each figure, and throwing glances over her +shoulder meanwhile at two more who stood in the doorway admiring. The +throb of the engine could be felt through the motion of the twenty-four +dancers, through the clear tenor of the negro who sang. Outside was the +wide lake and the night.</p> + +<p>Sitting on one of the sofas, alone, was Cicely. She was looking at the +dancers intently, her lips slightly parted. Eve sat down quietly by her +side.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how you follow me!” said Cicely, moving away.<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a></p> + +<p>Then suddenly she began to laugh. “See that man in the linen duster! He +takes such mincing little steps in his great prunella shoes. See him +smile! Oh! oh!” She pressed her handkerchief over her lips to stifle her +spasmodic laughter. But she could not stifle it.</p> + +<p>“Come,” said Eve, putting her arm round her. Their state-room was near, +she half carried her in. Light came through the gilded grating above. +Cicely still laughed, lying in the lower berth; Eve undressed her; with +soothing touch she tried to calm her, to stop her wild glee.</p> + +<p>“He turned out his toes in those awful prunella shoes!” said Cicely, +breaking into another peal of mirth.</p> + +<p>“Hush, dear. Hush.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would go away. You always do and say the wrong thing,” said +Cicely, suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I do,” answered Eve, humbly enough.</p> + +<p>Jack was asleep in the upper berth; she herself (as she would not leave +them) was to occupy an improvised couch on the floor. But first she went +out softly, closing the door behind her; she was going to look for her +other charge. The judge, however, had gone to bed, and Eve came back. +The dancing had ceased for the moment; a plump young negro was singing, +and accompanying himself on the guitar; his half-closed eyes gazed +sentimentally at the ceiling; through his thick lips came, in one of the +sweetest voices in the world,</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“No one to love,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">None to cay-ress;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Roam-ing alone <i>through</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This world’s wilderness—”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Eve stood with her hand on her door for an instant looking at him; then +she looked at the listening people. Suddenly it came over her: “Perhaps +it is all a dream! Perhaps I shall wake and find it one!”</p> + +<p>She went in. Cicely was in her lethargic state, her hands lying +motionless by her sides, her eyes closed. Eve uncoiled her own fair hair +and loosened her dress; then she lay down on her couch on the floor.</p> + +<p>But she could not sleep; with the first pink flush of dawn she was glad +to rise and go out on deck to cool her tired eyes in the fresh air. The +steamer was entering the Detroit River; deep and broad, its mighty +current flowed onward smoothly, brimming full between its low green +banks; the islands, decked in the fresh verdure of early summer, looked +indescribably lovely as the rising sun touched them with gold; the +lonely gazer wished that she might stop there, might live forever, hide +forever, in one of these green havens of rest. But the steamer did not +pause, and, laggingly, the interminable hours followed one another +through another day. They were now crossing Lake Huron, they were out of +sight of land; the purity of the cool blue water, ruffled by the breeze +into curls of foam, made a picture to refresh the weariest vision. But +Eve looked at it unseeingly, and Cicely did not look at all; the judge, +too, saw nothing—nothing but Cicely. There had been no letter at +Cleveland; for tidings they must still wait. Cicely had written a few +lines to Paul Tennant, announcing their arrival. But to Eve it seemed as +if they should never arrive, as if they should journey forever on this +phantom boat, journey till they died.<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a></p> + +<p>At last Lake Huron was left behind; the steamer turned and went round +the foaming leap of the St. Mary’s River, the Sault Sainte Marie (called +by lake-country people the Soo), and entered Lake Superior. Another +broad expanse of water like a sea. At last, on the fifth day, Port aux +Pins was in sight, a spot of white amid the pines. They were all +assembled at the bow—Cicely, Eve, the judge, and Porley with little +Jack; as the pier came into view with the waiting group of people at its +end, no one spoke. Nearer and nearer, now they could distinguish +figures; nearer and nearer, now they could see faces. Cicely knew which +was Paul immediately, though she had never seen him. The judge took the +knowledge from her eyes. Now people began to call to friends on the +pier. Now the pier itself touched the steamer’s side, the gangways were +put out, and persons were crossing; in another minute a tall man had +joined them, and, bending his head, had kissed Cicely.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tennant?” the judge had asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Paul Tennant. He was looking at Cicely, trying to +control a sudden emotion that had surprised him,—a man not given to +emotions; he turned away for a moment, patting Jack’s head. “She is so +young!” he murmured to the judge.</p> + +<p>“Paul,” said Cicely, coming to them, “you have heard from Ferdie? There +are letters?”</p> + +<p>“No, I haven’t heard lately. There are two letters for you, but they are +not in his handwriting.”</p> + +<p>“Are they here?”</p> + +<p>Paul’s eyes turned rapidly, first to the judge, then to Eve. Eve’s eyes +answered him.</p> + +<p>“At the house,” he said.<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a></p> + +<p>“Is it far? Let us go at once.” And Cicely turned towards the stairs.</p> + +<p>“It’s at the other end of the town; I’ve a wagon waiting.”</p> + +<p>Cicely was already descending. She crossed the gangway with rapid step; +she would not wait for their meagre luggage. “Take me there at once, +please; the wagon can come back for the others.”</p> + +<p>“I must go too,” said Eve. The tone of her voice was beseeching.</p> + +<p>“Get in, then,” said Cicely. “Paul, take us quickly, won’t you?” In her +haste she seized the reins and thrust them into his hands. She would not +sit down until he had taken his seat.</p> + +<p>“I will send the wagon back immediately,” Paul said to the judge. Then, +seeing the lost look of the old planter, he called out: “Hollis! Here a +moment.”</p> + +<p>A thin man with gray hair detached himself from the group of loungers on +the pier, and hurried towards them.</p> + +<p>“Judge Abercrombie, this is Mr. Christopher Hollis,” said Paul; “he +lives here, and he is a great friend of mine. Hollis, will you help +about the baggage? I’m coming back immediately.”</p> + +<p>They drove away, but not before Cicely had asked Paul to let her sit +beside him; Eve was left alone on the back seat.</p> + +<p>“I wanted to sit beside you, Paul; but I’m afraid I can’t talk,” Cicely +said. She put the back of her hand under her chin, as if to support her +head; she looked about vaguely—at the street, the passing people.</p> + +<p>“That’s right, don’t say anything; I like it better.<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a> You must be +terribly tired,” answered Paul, reassuringly.</p> + +<p>They stopped before a white cottage. Upon entering, Paul gave an +inquiring glance at Eve; then he left the room, and came back with two +letters.</p> + +<p>Cicely tore them open.</p> + +<p>Eve drew nearer.</p> + +<p>In another instant Cicely gave a cry which rang through the house. “He +is hurt! Some one has shot him—has shot him!” Clutching the pages, she +swayed forward, but Paul caught her. He laid her upon a couch; with his +large, strong hands he placed a cushion under her head.</p> + +<p>Eve watched him. She did not help him. Then she came to the sofa. “Is he +dead, Cicely?” she asked, abruptly.</p> + +<p>Cicely looked at her. “You want him to be!” Springing up suddenly, like +a little tigress, still clutching her letters, she struck Eve with her +left hand. Her gloved palm was soft, but, as she had exerted all her +strength in the blow, the mark across Eve’s cheek was red.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” said Eve, hastily, as Paul started forward; “I am glad she +did it.” Her eyes were bright; the red had come into her other cheek; in +spite of the mark of the blow, her face looked brilliant.</p> + +<p>Cicely had fallen back; and this time she had lost consciousness.</p> + +<p>“You can leave her to me now,” Eve went on. “Of course what she said +last means that he is not dead!” she added, with a long breath.</p> + +<p>“Dead?” said Paul Tennant. “Poor Ferdie dead? Never!”<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a></p> + +<p>Eve had knelt down; she was chafing Cicely’s temples. “Then you care for +him very much?” she asked, looking at him for a moment over her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“I care for him more than for anything else in the world,” said the +brother, shortly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII.</h2> + +<p>I<small>T</small> was the afternoon of the same day.</p> + +<p>“I shall go, grandpa,” said Cicely; “I shall go to-night. There’s a +boat, somebody said.”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear child, listen to reason; Sabrina does not say that he is +in danger.”</p> + +<p>“And she does not say that he is out of it.”</p> + +<p>The judge took up the letter again, and, putting on his glasses, he read +aloud, with a frown of attention: “‘For the first two days Dr. Daniels +came over twice a day’”—</p> + +<p>“You see?—twice a day,” said Cicely.</p> + +<p>—“‘But as he is beginning to feel his age, the crossing so often in the +row-boat tired him; so now he sends us his partner, Dr. Knox, a new man +here, and a very intelligent person, I should judge. Dr. Knox comes over +every afternoon and spends the night’”—</p> + +<p>“You see?—spends the night,” said Cicely.</p> + +<p>—“‘Going back early the following morning. He has brought us a nurse, +an excellent and skilful young man, and now we can have the satisfaction +of feeling that our poor Ferdie has every possible attention. As I +write, the fever is going down, and the nurse tells me that by +to-morrow, or day after<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a> to-morrow, he will probably be able to speak to +us, to talk.’”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know exactly how many days it will take me to get there,” said +Cicely, beginning to count upon her fingers. “Four days—or is it +three?—to Cleveland, where I take the train; then how many hours from +there to Washington? You will have to make it out for me, grandpa; or +rather Paul will; Paul knows everything.”</p> + +<p>“My poor little girl, you haven’t had any rest; even now you have only +just come out of a fainting-fit. Sabrina will write every day; wait at +least until her next letter comes to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p>“You are all so strange! Wouldn’t you wish me to see him if he were +dying?” Cicely demanded, her voice growing hard.</p> + +<p>“Of course, of course,” replied the old man, hastily. “But there is no +mention of dying, Sabrina says nothing that looks like it; Daniels, our +old friend—why, Daniels would cross twenty times a day if he thought +there was danger.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t argue, grandpa. But I shall go; I shall go to-night,” Cicely +responded.</p> + +<p>She was seated on a sofa in Paul Tennant’s parlor, a large room, +furnished with what the furniture dealer of Port aux Pins called a +“drawing-room set.” The sofa of this set was of the pattern named +tête-à-tête, very hard and slippery, upholstered in hideous green +damask. Cicely was sitting on the edge of this unreposeful couch, her +feet close together on a footstool, her arms tight to her sides and +folded from the elbows in a horizontal position across the front of her +waist. She looked very rigid and very small.<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a></p> + +<p>“But supposing, when you get there, that you find him up,—well?” +suggested the judge.</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t I be glad?” answered Cicely, defiantly. “What questions you +ask!”</p> + +<p>“But <i>we</i> couldn’t be glad. Can’t you think a little of us?—you are all +we have left now.”</p> + +<p>“Aunt Sabrina doesn’t feel as you do—if you mean Aunt Sabrina; she +would be delighted to have me come back. <i>She</i> likes Ferdie; it is only +you who are so hard about him.”</p> + +<p>“Sabrina doesn’t know. But supposing it were only I, is my wish nothing +to you?” And the old man put out his hand in appeal.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Cicely, inflexibly. “I am sorry, grandpa; but for the +moment it isn’t, nothing is anything to me now but Ferdie. And what is +it that Aunt Sabrina doesn’t know, pray? There’s nothing to know; Ferdie +had one of his attacks—he has had them before—and I came away with +Jack; that is all. Eve has exaggerated everything. I told her I would +come here, come to Paul, because Ferdie likes Paul; but I never intended +to stay forever, and now that Ferdie is ill, do you suppose that I will +wait one moment longer than I must? Of course not.”</p> + +<p>The door opened and Eve came in. Cicely glanced at her; then she turned +her eyes away, looking indifferently at the whitewashed wall.</p> + +<p>“She is going to take the steamer back to-night,” said the judge, +helplessly.</p> + +<p>“Oh no, Cicely; surely not to-night,” Eve began. In spite of the +fatigues of the journey, Eve had been a changed creature since morning; +there was in her eyes an expression of deep happiness, which was almost +exaltation.<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a></p> + +<p>“There is no use in explaining anything to Eve, and I shall not try,” +replied Cicely. She unfolded her arms and rose, still standing, a rigid +little figure, close to the sofa. “I love my husband, and I shall go to +him; what Eve says is of no consequence, because she knows nothing about +such things; but I suppose <i>you</i> cared for grandma once, didn’t you, +grandpa, when she was young? and if she had been shot, wouldn’t you have +gone to her?”</p> + +<p>“Cicely, you are cruel,” said Eve.</p> + +<p>“When grandpa thinks so, it will be time enough for me to trouble +myself. But grandpa doesn’t think so.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” said the old man; “never.” And for the moment he and his +grandchild made common cause against the intruder.</p> + +<p>Eve felt this, she stood looking at them in silence. Then she said, “And +Jack?”</p> + +<p>“I shall take him with me, of course. That reminds me that I must speak +to Porley about his frocks; Porley is so stupid.” And Cicely turned +towards the door.</p> + +<p>Eve followed her. “Another long journey so soon will be bad for Jack.”</p> + +<p>“There you go again! But I shall not leave him with you, no matter what +you say; useless, your constant asking.” She opened the door. On the +threshold she met Paul Tennant coming in.</p> + +<p>He took her hand and led her back. “I was looking for you; I have found +a little bed for Jack; but I don’t know that it will do.”</p> + +<p>“You are very good, Paul, but Jack will not need it. I am going away +to-night; I have only just learned that there is a boat.”<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a></p> + +<p>“We don’t want to hear any talk of boats,” Paul answered. He drew her +towards the sofa and placed her upon it. “Sit down; you look so tired!”</p> + +<p>“I’m not tired; at least I do not feel it. And I have a great deal to +do, Paul; I must see about Jack’s frocks.”</p> + +<p>“Jack’s frocks can wait. There’s to be no journey to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there is,” said Cicely, with a mutinous little smile. Her glance +turned towards her grandfather and Eve; then it came back to Paul, who +was standing before her. “None of you shall keep me,” she announced.</p> + +<p>“You will obey your grandfather, won’t you?” Paul began, seriously.</p> + +<p>The judge got up, rubbing his hands round each other.</p> + +<p>“No,” Cicely answered; “not about this. Grandpa knows it; we have +already talked it over.”</p> + +<p>“You are wrong; you ought not to be willing to make him so unhappy.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind about that, Tennant; I’ll see to that,” said the judge. He +spoke in a thin old voice which sounded far away.</p> + +<p>Paul looked at him, surprised. Then his glance turned towards Eve. “Miss +Bruce too; I am sure she does not approve of your going?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, if I should wait for <i>Eve’s</i> approval!” said Cicely. “Eve doesn’t +approve of anything in the world except that she should have Jack, and +take him away with her, Heaven knows where. She hasn’t any feelings as +other people have; she has never cared for anybody excepting herself, +and her brother, and I dare say that when she had him she<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a> tried to rule +him, as she tries now to rule me and every one. She is jealous about +him, and that makes her hate Ferdie: perhaps you don’t know that she +hates Ferdie? She does; she was sorry this morning, absolutely sorry, +when she heard that, though he was dreadfully hurt, he wasn’t dead.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Cicely!” said Eve. She turned away and walked towards one of the +windows, her face covered by her hands.</p> + +<p>Paul’s eyes followed her. Then they came back to Cicely. “Very well, +then, since it appears to be left to me, I must tell you plainly that +you cannot go to-night; we shall not allow it.”</p> + +<p>“We!” ejaculated Cicely. “Who are we?”</p> + +<p>“I, then, if you like—I alone.”</p> + +<p>“What can you do? I am free; no one has any authority over me except +Ferdie.” Paul did not reply. “You will scarcely attempt to keep me by +force, I suppose?” she went on.</p> + +<p>“If necessary, yes. But it will not be necessary.”</p> + +<p>“Grandpa would never permit it. Grandpa?” She summoned him to her side +with an imperious gesture.</p> + +<p>The old man came towards her a step or two. Then he left the room +hurriedly.</p> + +<p>Cicely watched him go, with startled eyes. But she recovered herself, +and looked at Paul undaunted.</p> + +<p>“Why do you treat me so, Cicely?” he said. “I care about Ferdie as much +as you do; I have always cared about him,—hasn’t he ever told you? +There never were two boys such chums; and although, since he has grown +up, he has had others, I have never had any one but him; I haven’t +wanted any one. Is it likely, then, that I should try to set you +against<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a> him?—that I should turn against him myself?—I ask you that.”</p> + +<p>“It is setting me against him not to let me go to him. How do we know +that he is not dying?” Her voice was quiet and hard.</p> + +<p>“We know because the letters do not speak of danger; on the contrary, +they tell us that the ball has been extracted, and that the fever is +going down. He will get well. And then some measures must be taken +before you can go back to him; otherwise it would not be safe.”</p> + +<p>“And do I care about safe? I should like to die if <i>he</i> did!” cried +Cicely, passionately. She looked like a hunted creature at bay.</p> + +<p>“And your child; what is your idea about him?”</p> + +<p>“That’s it; take up Eve’s cry—do! You know I will never give up baby, +and so you both say that.” She sank down on the sofa, her head on her +arms, her face hidden.</p> + +<p>Her little figure lying there looked so desolate that Eve hurried +forward from the window. Then she stopped, she felt that Cicely hated +her.</p> + +<p>“I say what I think will influence you,” Paul was answering. “Ferdie has +already thrown the boy about once; he may do it again. Of course at such +times he is not responsible; but these times are increasing, and he must +be brought up short; he must be brought to his senses.” He went to the +sofa, sat down beside her, and lifted her in his arms. “My poor little +sister, do trust me. Ferdie does; he wrote to me himself about that +dreadful time, that first time when he hurt you; isn’t that a proof? I +will show you the letter if you like.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to see it. Ferdie and I never speak<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a> of those things; +there has never been an allusion to them between us,” replied Cicely, +proudly.</p> + +<p>“I can understand that. You are his wife, and I am only his big brother, +to whom he has always told everything.” He placed her beside him on the +sofa, with his arm still round her. “Didn’t you know that we still tell +each other everything,—have all in common? I have been the slow member +of the firm, as one may say, and so I’ve stayed along here; but I have +always known what Ferdie was about, and have been interested in his +schemes as much as he was.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he told me that you gave him the money for South America,” said +Cicely, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“That South American investment was his own idea, and he deserves all +the credit of it; he will make it a success yet. See here, Cicely: at +the first intimation that he is worse, I should go down there myself as +fast as boat and train could carry me; I’ve telegraphed to that Dr. Knox +to keep me informed exactly, and, if there should be any real danger, I +will take you to him instantly. But I feel certain that he will recover. +And then we must cure him in another way. The trouble with Ferdie is +that he is sure that he can stop at any moment, and, being so sure, he +has never really tried. The thing has been on him almost from a boy, he +inherits it from his father. But he has such a will, he is so +brilliant—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! isn’t he?” said Cicely, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>—“That he has never considered himself in danger, in spite of these +lapses. Now there is where we must get hold of him—we must open his +eyes; and that is going to be the hard point, the hard work, in<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> which, +first of all, <i>you</i> must help. But once he is convinced, once the thing +is done, then, Cicely, then”—</p> + +<p>“Yes, then?”</p> + +<p>—“He will be about as perfect a fellow as the world holds, I think,” +said Paul, with quiet enthusiasm. He stooped and kissed her cheek. “I +want you to believe that I love him,” he added, simply.</p> + +<p>He got up, smiling down upon her,—“Now will you be a good girl?” he +said, as though she were a child.</p> + +<p>“I will wait until to-morrow,” Cicely answered, after a moment’s +hesitation.</p> + +<p>“Come, that’s a concession,” said Paul, applaudingly. “And now won’t you +do something else that will please me very much?—won’t you go straight +to bed?”</p> + +<p>“A small thing to please you with,” Cicely answered, without a smile; “I +will go if you wish. I should like to have you know, Paul, that I came +to you of my own choice,” she went on; “I came to you when I would not +go anywhere else; Eve will tell you so.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented Eve from her place by the window.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m glad you had some confidence,” Paul responded; “I must try to +give you more. And now who will—who will see to you? Does that +wool-headed girl of yours know anything?”</p> + +<p>He looked so anxious as he said this that Cicely broke into a faint +laugh. “I haven’t lost my mind; I can see to myself.”</p> + +<p>“But I thought you Southerners— However, Miss Bruce will help you.” He +looked at Eve.<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a></p> + +<p>“I am afraid Cicely is tired of me,” Eve answered, coming forward. “All +the same, I know how to take care of her.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she took care of me all the way here,” remarked Cicely, looking at +Eve coldly. “She needs to be taken care of herself,” she went on, in a +dispassionate voice; “she has hardly closed her eyes since we started.”</p> + +<p>“I feel perfectly well,” Eve answered, the color rushing to her face in +a brilliant flush.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think we need borrow any trouble about Miss Bruce, she looks +the image of health,” observed Paul (but not as though he admired the +image). “I am afraid your bedrooms are not very large,” he went on, +again perturbed. “There are two, side by side.”</p> + +<p>“Cicely shall have one to herself; Jack and I will take the other,” said +Eve.</p> + +<p>“Where is Jack?” demanded Cicely, suddenly. “What have you done with +him, Eve?”</p> + +<p>Paul opened the door. “Polly!” he cried, in a voice that could have been +heard from garret to cellar. Porley, amazed by the sound, came running +in, with Jack in her arms. Paul looked at her dubiously, shook his head, +and went out.</p> + +<p>Cicely took her child, and began to play all his games with him +feverishly, one after the other.</p> + +<p>Jack was delighted; he played with all his little heart.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV.</h2> + +<p>F<small>OUR</small> days had passed slowly by. “What do you think, judge, of this +theory about the shooting,—the<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a> one they believe at Romney?” said Paul, +on the fifth morning.</p> + +<p>“It’s probable enough. Niggers are constitutionally timid, and they +always have pistols nowadays; these two boys, it seems, had come over +from the mainland to hide; they had escaped from a lock-up, got a boat +somewhere and crossed; that much is known. Your brother, perhaps, went +wandering about the island; if he came upon them suddenly, with that +knife in his hand, like as not they fired.”</p> + +<p>“Ferdie was found lying very near the point where <i>your</i> boat was kept.”</p> + +<p>“And the niggers might have been hidden just there. But I don’t think we +can tell exactly where our boat was; Cicely doesn’t remember—I have +asked her.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Bruce may have clearer ideas.”</p> + +<p>“No; Eve seems to have a greater confusion about it than Cicely even; +she cannot speak of it clearly at all.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have noticed that,” said Paul.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is because, at the last, she had it all to do; she is a +brave woman.”</p> + +<p>Paul was silent.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think so?” said the judge.</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t there. I don’t know what she did.”</p> + +<p>“You’re all alike, you young men; she’s too much for you,” said the +judge, with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>“Why too much? She seems to me very glum and shy. When you say that we +are all alike, do you mean that Ferdie didn’t admire her, either? Yet +Ferdie is liberal in his tastes,” said the elder brother, smiling.</p> + +<p>But the judge did not want to talk about Ferdie.<a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a> “So you find her shy? +She did not strike us so at Romney. Quiet enough—yes. But very +decidedly liking to have her own way.”</p> + +<p>Paul dismissed the subject. “I suppose those two scamps, who shot him, +got safely away?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, they were sure to have run off on the instant; they had the boat +they came over in, and before daylight they were miles to the southward +probably; I dare say they made for one of the swamps. In the old days we +could have tracked them; but it’s not so easy now. And even if we got +them we couldn’t string them up.”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t hang them?”</p> + +<p>“By all the gods, I would!” said the planter, bringing his fist down +upon the table with a force that belonged to his youth.</p> + +<p>“Ferdie may have attacked them first, you know.”</p> + +<p>“What difference does that make? Damnation, sir! are they to be allowed +to fire upon their masters?”</p> + +<p>“They did not fire very well, these two; according to Dr. Knox, the +wound is not serious; his despatch this morning says that Ferdie is +coming on admirably.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose he is,” said the old man, relapsing into gloom.</p> + +<p>“As soon as he is up and about, I am going down there,” Paul went on; “I +must see him and have a serious talk. Some new measures must be taken. I +don’t think it will be difficult when I have once made him see his +danger; he is so extraordinarily intelligent.”</p> + +<p>“I wish he were dull, then,—dull as an owl!” said the judge, with a +long sigh.<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a></p> + +<p>“Yes, regarded simply as husbands, I dare say the dull may be safer,” +responded Paul. “But you must excuse me if I cannot look upon Ferdie +merely as the husband of your daughter; I expect great things of him +yet.”</p> + +<p>“Granddaughter. If her father had lived—my boy Duke—it would have been +another story; Duke wouldn’t have been a broken old man like me.” And +the judge leaned his head upon his hand.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir; don’t mind my roughness. It’s only that I’m +fond of Ferdie, and proud of him; he has but that one fault. But I +appreciate how you feel about Cicely; we must work together for them +both.”</p> + +<p>Paul had risen, and was standing before him with outstretched hand. +“Thank you; you mean well,” said the judge. He had let his hand be +taken, but he did not look up. He felt that he could never really like +this man—never.</p> + +<p>“I am to understand, then, that you approve of my plan?” Paul went on, +after a short silence. “Cicely to stay here for the present—the house, +I hope, is fairly comfortable—and then, when Ferdie is better, I to go +down there and see what I can do; I have every hope of doing a great +deal! Oh, yes, there’s one more thing; <i>you</i> needn’t feel obliged to +stay here any longer than you want to, you know; I can see to Cicely. +Apparently, too, Miss Bruce has no intention of leaving her.”</p> + +<p>“I shall stay, sir—I shall stay.”</p> + +<p>“On my own account, I hope you will; I only meant that you needn’t feel +that you must; I thought perhaps there was something that called you +home.”</p> + +<p>“Calls me home? Do you suppose we do anything<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a> down there nowadays with +the whole coast ruined? As for the house, Sabrina is there, and women +like illness; they absolutely dote on medicines, and doctors, and +ghastly talking in whispers.”</p> + +<p>“Very well; I only hope you won’t find it dull, that’s all. The mine +isn’t bad; you might come out there occasionally. And the steamers stop +two or three times a day. There’s a good deal going on in the town, too; +building’s lively.”</p> + +<p>“I am much obliged to you.”</p> + +<p>“But you don’t care for liveliness,” pursued Paul, with a smile. “I am +afraid there isn’t much else. I haven’t many books, but Kit Hollis has; +he is the man for you. Queer; never can decide anything; always beating +round the bush; still, in his way, tremendously well read and clever.”</p> + +<p>“He appears to be a kind of dry-nurse to you,” said the judge, rising.</p> + +<p>Paul laughed, showing his white teeth. He was very good-natured, his +guest had already discovered that.</p> + +<p>The judge was glad that their conversation had come to an end. He could +no longer endure dwelling upon sorrow. Trouble was not over for them by +any means; their road looked long and dark before them. But for the +moment Cicely and her child were safe under this roof; let them enjoy +that and have a respite. As for himself, he could—well, he could enjoy +the view.</p> + +<p>The view consisted of the broad lake in front, and the deep forest which +stretched unbroken towards the east and the west. The water of the lake +was fresh, the great forest was primeval; this made the effect very +unlike that of the narrow salt-water sounds, and<a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a> the chain of islands, +large and small, with their gardens and old fields. The South had +forgotten her beginnings; but here one could see what all the new world +had once been, here one could see traces of the first struggle for human +existence with the inert forces of nature. With other forces, too, for +Indians still lived here. They were few in number, harmless; but they +carried the mind back to the time of sudden alarms and the musket laid +ready to the hand; the days of the block-house and the guarded well, the +high stockade. The old planter as he walked about did not think of these +things. The rough forest was fit only for rough-living pioneers; the +Indians were but another species of nigger; the virgin air was thin and +raw,—he preferred something more thick, more civilized; the great +fresh-water sea was abominably tame, no one could possibly admire it; +Port aux Pins itself was simply hideous; it was a place composed +entirely of beginnings and mud, talk and ambition, the sort of place +which the Yankees produced wherever they went, and which they loved; +that in itself described it; how could a Southern gentleman like what +they loved?</p> + +<p>And Port aux Pins was ugly. Its outlying quarters were still in the +freshly plucked state, deplumed, scarred, with roadways half laid out, +with shanties and wandering pigs, discarded tin cans and other refuse, +and everywhere stumps, stumps. Within the town there were one or two +streets where stood smart wooden houses with Mansard-roofs. But these +were elbowed by others much less smart, and they were hustled by the +scaffolding of the new mansions which were rising on all sides, and, +with republican freedom, taking whatever room they found<a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a> convenient +during the process. Even those abodes which were completed as to their +exteriors had a look of not being fully furnished, a blank, wide-eyed, +unwinking expression across their façades which told of bare floors and +echoing spaces within. Always they had temporary fences. Often paths of +movable planks led up to the entrance. Day after day a building of some +sort was voyaging through Port aux Pins streets by means of a rope and +windlass, a horse, and men with boards; when it rained, the house +stopped and remained where it was, waiting for the mud to dry; meanwhile +the roadway was blocked. But nobody minded that. All these things, the +all-pervading beginnings, the jokes and slang, the smell of paint, and +always the breathless constant hurry, were hateful to the old Georgian. +It might have been said, perhaps, that between houses and a society +uncomfortable from age, falling to pieces from want of repairs, and +houses and a society uncomfortable from youth, unfurnished, and +encumbered with scaffolding, there was not much to choose. But the judge +did not think so; to his mind there was a great deal to choose.</p> + +<p>As the days passed, Christopher Hollis became more and more his +companion; the judge grew into the habit of expecting to see his high +head, topped with a silk hat, put stealthily through the crevice of the +half-open door of Paul’s dining-room (Hollis never opened a door widely; +whether coming in or going out, he always squeezed himself through), +with the query, “Hello! What’s up?” There was never anything up; but the +judge, sitting there forlornly, with no companion but the local +newspaper (which he loathed), was glad to welcome his queer<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a> guest. +Generally they went out together; Port aux Pins people grew accustomed +to seeing them walking down to the end first of one pier, then of the +other, strolling among the stumps in the suburbs, or sitting on the pile +of planks which adorned one corner of the Public Square, the +long-legged, loose-jointed Kit an amusing contrast to the small, precise +figure by his side.</p> + +<p>“I say, he’s pretty hard up for entertainment, that old gentleman of +yours,” announced Hollis one day, peering in through the crevice of the +door of Paul Tennant’s office in the town.</p> + +<p>“I depended on you to entertain him,” answered Paul without lifting his +head, which was bent over a ledger.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve taken him all over the place, I’ve pretty nearly trotted his +legs off,” Hollis responded, edging farther in, the door scraping the +buttons of his waistcoat as he did so. “And I’ve shot off all my Latin +at him too—all I can remember. I read up on purpose.”</p> + +<p>“Is he such a scholar, then?”</p> + +<p>“No, he ain’t. But it does him good to hear a little Horace in such an +early-in-the-morning, ten-minutes-ago place as this. See here, Paul; if +you keep him on here long he won’t stand it—he’ll mizzle out. He’ll +simply die of Potterpins.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not keeping him. He stays of his own accord.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it. But, I say, ain’t he a regular old despot though! +You ought to hear him hold forth sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“<i>I</i> don’t want to hear him.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess he don’t talk that way to you, on the whole. Not much,” +said Hollis, jocularly.<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a></p> + +<p>And Paul Tennant did not look like a man who would be a comfortable +companion for persons of the aggressive temperament. He was tall and +broad-shouldered; not graceful like Ferdie, but powerful. His neck was +rather short; the lower part of his face was strong and firm. His +features were good; his eyes, keen, gray in hue. His hair was yellow and +thick, and he had a moustache and short beard of the same yellow hue. No +one would have called him handsome exactly. There was something of the +Scandinavian in his appearance; nothing of the German. His manner, +compared with Ferdie’s quick, light brilliancy, was quiet, his speech +slow.</p> + +<p>“Have you been thinking about that proposition—that sale?” Hollis went +on.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“It’s done. I’ve declined.”</p> + +<p>“What! not already? That’s sudden, ain’t it?”</p> + +<p>Paul did not answer; he was adding figures.</p> + +<p>“Have you been over the reasons?—weighed ’em?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I leave the reasons to you,” said Paul, turning a page.</p> + +<p>Hollis gave his almost silent laugh. But he gave it uneasily. +“Positively declined? Letter gone?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Oh; well!” He waited a moment; then, as Paul did not speak, he opened +the door and edged himself out without a sound.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later his head reappeared with the same stealth. “Oh, I +thought I’d just tell you—perhaps you don’t know—the mail doesn’t go +out to-day until five o’clock: you can get that letter back if you +like.”<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a></p> + +<p>“I don’t want it back.”</p> + +<p>“Oh; well.” He was gone again.</p> + +<p>Outside in the street he saw the judge wandering by, and stopped him. +“That there son-in-law of yours—” he began.</p> + +<p>“Son-in-law?” inquired the judge, stiffly.</p> + +<p>“Whatever pleases you; step-sister.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tennant is the half-brother of the husband of my granddaughter.”</p> + +<p>“’T any rate, that man in there, that Paul, he’s so tremendously rash +there’s no counting on him; if there’s anything to do he goes and does +it right spang off without a why or a wherefore. He absolutely seems to +have no reasons!—not a rease!”</p> + +<p>“I cannot agree with you. To me Mr. Tennant seems to have a great many.”</p> + +<p>“But you haven’t heard about this. Come along out to the Park for a +walk, and I’ll tell you.”</p> + +<p>He moved on. But the judge did not accompany him. A hurrying mulatto, a +waiter from one of the steamers, had jostled him off the narrow plank +sidewalk; at the same moment a buggy which was passing, driven at a +reckless speed, spattered him with mud from shoulder to shoe.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, come on; it’ll dry while you’re walking,” suggested Hollis +from the corner where he was waiting.</p> + +<p>The judge stepped back to the planks; he surveyed his befouled person; +then he brought out a resounding expletive—half a dozen of them.</p> + +<p>“Do it again—if it’ll ease you off,” called Kit, grinning. “When you’re +blessing Potterpins, I’m with you every time.”</p> + +<p>The judge rapped the planks with his cane. “Go on, sir! go on!” he said, +violently.<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a></p> + +<p>Hollis went loafing on. And presently the judge caught up with him, and +trotted beside him in silence.</p> + +<p>“Well, that Paul now, as I was telling you, I don’t know what to make of +him,” said Hollis, returning to his topic. “I think I know him, and +then, suddenly he stumps me. Once he has made up his mind to +anything—and it does not take long—off he goes and <i>does</i> it, I tell +you! He <i>does</i> it.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what he <i>does</i>; his conversation has a good deal of the +sledge-hammer about it,” remarked the judge.</p> + +<p>“So it has,” responded Hollis, delighted with the comparison; he was so +delighted that he stopped and slapped his thigh. “So it has, by +George!—convincing and knock-you-down.” The judge walked on. He had +intended no compliment. “To-day, now, that fellow has gone and sent off +a letter that he ought to have taken six months to think over,” Hollis +continued. “Told you about his Clay County iron?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he was down there on business—in Clay County. It was several +years ago. He had to go across the country, and the roads were +awful—full of slew-holes. At last, tired of being joggled to pieces, he +got out and walked along the fields, leaving the horse to bring the +buggy through the mud as well as he could. By-and-by he saw a stone that +didn’t look quite like the others, and he gave it a kick. Still it +didn’t look quite like, so he picked it up. The long and short of it was +that it turned out to be hematite iron, and off he went to the +county-seat and entered as much of the land as he could afford<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a> to buy. +He hasn’t any capital, so he has never been able to work it himself; all +his savings he has invested in something or other in South America. But +the other day he had a tip-top offer from a company; they wanted to buy +the whole thing in a lump. And <i>that’s</i> the chance he has refused this +identical morning!” The judge did not reply. “More iron may be +discovered near by, you know,” Hollis went on, warningly, his forefinger +out. His companion still remained silent. “He may never have half so +good an offer in his whole life again!”</p> + +<p>They had now reached the Park, a dreary enclosure where small evergreens +had been set out here and there, together with rock-work, and a fountain +which did not play. The magnificent forest trees which had once covered +the spot had all been felled; infant elms, swathed in rags and tied to +whitewashed stakes, were expected to give shade in fifteen or twenty +years. There were no benches; Hollis seated himself on the top of a +rail-fence which bordered the slight descent to the beach of the lake; +the heels of his boots, caught on a rail below, propped him, and sent +his knees forward at an acute angle.</p> + +<p>“There were all sorts of side issues and possibilities which that fellow +ought to have considered,” he pursued, ruminatively, his mind still on +Paul’s refusal. “There were other things that might have come of it. It +was an A number one chance for a fortune.” The judge did not answer. +“For a fortune,” repeated Hollis, dreamily, gazing down at him from his +perch. No reply. “A <i>for</i>-chun!”</p> + +<p>“Da-a-a-m your fortune!” said the judge, at the end of his patience, +bringing out the first word with a long emphasis, like a low growl from +a bull-dog.<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a></p> + +<p>Hollis stared. Then he gave his silent laugh, and, stretching down one +long arm, he laid it on the old man’s shoulder soothingly. “There, now; +we <i>are</i> awful Yankees up here, all of us, I’m afraid; forever thinking +of bargains. Fact is, we ain’t high-minded; you <i>can’t</i> be, if you are +forever eating salt pork.” The judge had pulled himself from the other’s +touch in an instant. But Hollis remained unconscious of any offence.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;"><i>”‘At the battle of the Nile I was there all the while;</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>I was there all the while at the battle of the Nile.’”</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">he chanted.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;"><i>”‘At the bat— ’</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>“Hello, isn’t that Miss Bruce coming down the beach? Yes, sure-ly; I +know her by the way she carries her head.” Detaching his boot-heels from +the rail, he sprang down, touching the ground with his long legs wide +apart; then, giving his waistcoat a pull over the flatness below it, he +looked inquiringly at the judge.</p> + +<p>But that gentleman ignored the inquiry. “It is time to return, I +reckon,” he remarked, leading the way inflexibly towards the distant +gate and the road.</p> + +<p>Hollis followed him with disappointed tread. “She won’t think us very +polite, skooting off in this fashion,” he hazarded.</p> + +<p>The judge vouchsafed him no reply. It was one thing for this +backwoodsman to go about with him; it was another to aspire to an +acquaintance with the ladies of his family. Poor Hollis aspired to +nothing; he was the most modest of men; all the same it would never have +occurred to him that he was not on an equality with everybody. They +returned to Port aux Pins by the road.<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a></p> + +<p>The beach was in sight all the way on the left; Eve’s figure in +three-quarter length was visible whenever Hollis turned his head in that +direction, which was often. She gained on them. Then she passed them.</p> + +<p>“She’s a tip-top walker, isn’t she? I see her coming in almost every day +from ’way out somewhere—she doesn’t mind how far. Our ladies here don’t +walk much; they don’t seem to find it interesting. But Miss Bruce, +now—she says the woods are beautiful. Can’t say I have found ’em so +myself.”</p> + +<p>“Have you had any new cases lately?” inquired the judge, coldly.</p> + +<p>“Did that Paul tell you I was a lawyer? Was once, but have given up +practising. I’ve got an Auction and Commission store now; never took you +there because business hasn’t been flourishing; sometimes for days +together there’s been nothing but the skeleton.” The judge looked at +him. “I don’t mean myself! Say, now, did you really think I meant +myself?” And he laughed without a sound. “No, this is a real one; it was +left with me over a year ago to be sold on commission—medical students, +or a college, you know. Man never came back—perhaps he’s a skeleton +himself in the lake somewhere—so there it hangs still; first-class, and +in elegant condition. To-day there are six bonnets to keep it company; +so we’re full.”</p> + +<p>They were now entering the town. Presently, at a corner, they came +suddenly upon Eve; she was waiting for them. “I saw you walking in from +the Park, so I came across to join you,” she said.</p> + +<p>Hollis showed his satisfaction by a broad smile; he did not raise his +hat, but, extracting one of his<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a> hands from the depths of his trousers +pocket, he offered it frankly. “You don’t mind a longish walk, do you? +You look splendid.”</p> + +<p>“We need not take you further, Mr. Hollis,” said the judge. “Your time +must be valuable to you.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit; there’s no demand to-day for the bonnets—unless the +skeleton wants to wear ’em.”</p> + +<p>“Is it an exhibition?” asked Eve, non-comprehendingly.</p> + +<p>“It’s my store—Auction and Commission. Not crowded. It’s round the next +corner; want to go in?” And he produced a key and dangled it at Eve +invitingly.</p> + +<p>“By all means,” said Eve.</p> + +<p>It was evident that she liked to be with him. The judge had perceived +this before now.</p> + +<p>Hollis unlocked a door, or rather two doors, for the place had been +originally a wagon shop. A portion of the space within was floored, and +here, between the two windows, the long white skeleton was suspended, +moving its legs a little in the sudden draught.</p> + +<p>“Here are the bonnets,” said Hollis. “They may have to go out to the +mines. You see, it’s part of a bankrupt stock. Not but what they ain’t +first-class;—remarkably so.” He went to a table where stood six +bandboxes in a row; opening one of them, he took out a bonnet, and, +freeing it from its wrappings, held it anxiously towards Eve, perched on +one of his fingers.</p> + +<p>“Are you trying to make Miss Bruce buy that old rubbish?” said a voice +at the door. It was Paul Tennant’s voice.</p> + +<p><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>“Old?” said Hollis, seriously. “Why, Paul, I dare say this here bonnet +was made in Detroit not later than one year ago.”</p> + +<p>“If I cannot buy it myself,” said Eve, “I might take it out to the mines +for you, Mr. Hollis, and sell it to the women there; I might take out +all six.” She spoke gayly.</p> + +<p>“You’d do it a heap better than I could,” Hollis declared, admiringly.</p> + +<p>“Let me see, I can try.” She opened a bandbox and took out a second +bonnet. This she began to praise in very tropical language; she turned +it round, now rapidly, now slowly; she magnified its ribbons, its +general air. Finally, taking off her round-hat, she perched it on her +own golden braids, and, holding the strings together under her chin, she +said, dramatically: “What an effect!” She did not smile, but her eyes +shone. She looked brilliant.</p> + +<p>The judge stared, amazed. Hollis, contorting himself like an angle-worm +in his delight, applauded. Paul looked on tranquilly.</p> + +<p>“Whatever the rest of you may do, I must be going,” said the judge, +determinedly. He went towards the door, each short step sounding on the +planks.</p> + +<p>“So must I,” said Eve. “Wait until I put back the bonnets.” With deft +hands she returned them to their boxes, Paul and Hollis looking on. Then +they all went out together, Hollis relocking the door.</p> + +<p>“I was on my way home,” said Paul, “and I suppose you were too? Hollis, +won’t you come along?”</p> + +<p>He went on in advance with Eve, Hollis following with the unwilling +judge, whose steps were still like little taps with a hammer.<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a></p> + +<p>The cottage was on the outskirts of the town. To walk thither took +twenty minutes.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV.</h2> + +<p>P<small>AUL</small> had succeeded in keeping Cicely tranquil by a system of telegraphic +despatches and letters, one or the other arriving daily; each morning +Ferdie’s wife received a few lines from Romney, written either by Miss +Sabrina or the nurse; after she had read her note, she let herself be +borne along indifferently on the current of another Port aux Pins day.</p> + +<p>The Port aux Pins days were, in themselves, harder for the judge than +for Cicely. For Cicely remained passive; but the old judge could not be +passive to things he hated so intensely. At last, by good-fortune, +Hollis found something that placated him a little; this was fishing, +fishing for trout; not the great rich creature of the lakes, which +passes under that name, but that exquisite morsel, the brook-trout. The +judge had gone off contentedly, even happily, in search of this delicate +prey; he and Hollis had explored the trout-streams of the two +neighboring rivers. A third river, at a greater distance, was reported +richer than any other; one morning they reached it, not only the two +fishermen, but Cicely also, and Eve and Paul. They had crossed by +steamer to a village on the north shore, an old fur-trading post; here +they had engaged canoes and two Indians, and had spent a long day afloat +on the clear wild stream. Its shores were rocky, deeply covered to the +water’s edge with<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a> a dark forest of spruce-trees; the branchlet +trout-brooks, therefore, had been hard to find under the low-sweeping +foliage. But in this search, Hollis was an expert; with his silk hat +tipped more than ever towards the back of his head, he kept watch, and +he and the judge were put ashore several times in the course of the day, +returning smiling and amiable whether they brought trout or not, with +the serene contentment of fishermen. The others remained in the canoes, +those light birch-bark craft of the American red-men, which, for grace +and beauty, have never been surpassed. Two red-men were paddling one of +them at present; they were civilized red-men, they called themselves +Bill and Jim. But, under their straw hats, hung down their long straight +Indian hair, and the eagle profiles seemed out of place above the +ready-made coats and trousers. On their slender feet they wore beaded +moccasins. Paul Tennant and Hollis also wore moccasins, and the judge +had put on his thinnest shoes; for the birch-bark canoe has a delicate +floor.</p> + +<p>The boat paddled by the Indians carried Cicely, Porley and Jack, and the +judge; the second held only three persons—Eve, Hollis, and Paul +Tennant. Paul was propelling it alone, his paddle touching the water now +on one side, now on the other, lifted across as occasion required as +lightly as though it had been a feather. Cicely was listless, Paul +good-natured, but indifferent also—so it seemed to Eve; and Eve +herself, though she remained quiet (as the judge had described her), Eve +was at heart excited. These thick dark woods without a path, without a +sound, the wild river, the high Northern air which<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a> was like an +intoxicant—all these seemed to her wonderful. She breathed rapidly; she +glanced at the others in astonishment. “Why don’t they admire it? Why +doesn’t he admire it?” she thought, looking at Paul.</p> + +<p>Once the idea came suddenly that Paul was laughing at her, and the blood +sprang to her face; she kept her gaze down until the stuff of her dress +expanded into two large circles in which everything swam, so that she +was obliged to close her eyes dizzily.</p> + +<p>And then, when at last she did look up, her anger and her dizziness had +alike been unnecessary, for Paul was gazing at the wooded shore behind +her; it was evident that he had not thought of her, and was not thinking +of her now.</p> + +<p>This was late in the day, on their way back. A few minutes afterwards, +as they entered the lake, she saw a distant flash, and asked what it +was.</p> + +<p>“Jupiter Light,” said Paul. “It’s a flash-light, and a good one.”</p> + +<p>“There’s a Jupiter Light on Abercrombie Island, too,” Eve remarked.</p> + +<p>“It’s a common enough name,” Paul answered; “the best-known one is off +the coast of Florida.”</p> + +<p>The Indians passed them, paddling with rushing, rapid strokes.</p> + +<p>“They’re right; we shall be late for the steamer if we don’t look out,” +said Paul. “You can help now if you like, Kit.”</p> + +<p>He and Hollis took off their coats, and the canoe flew down the lake +under their feathery paddles; the water was as calm as a floor. Eve was +sitting at the bow, facing Paul. No one spoke, though<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a> Hollis now and +then crooned, or rather chewed, a fragment of his favorite song:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;"><i>”‘At the battle of the Nile I was there all the while—’”</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The little voyage lasted half an hour.</p> + +<p>They reached the village in time for the steamer, and soon afterwards +not only Jack and Porley, but Cicely, the judge, and Hollis, tired after +their long day afloat, had gone to bed. When Cicely sought her berth Eve +also sought hers, the tiny cells being side by side. Since their arrival +at Port aux Pins, Cicely had become more lenient to Eve; she was not so +cold, sometimes she even spoke affectionately. But she was very +changeable.</p> + +<p>To-night, after a while, Eve tapped at Cicely’s door. “Are you really +going to bed so early?”</p> + +<p>“I am in bed already.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want anything? Isn’t there something I can bring you?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Eve went slowly back to her own cell. But the dimness, the warm air, +oppressed her; she sat down on a stool behind her closed door, the +excitement of the day still remaining with her. “Is it possible that I +am becoming nervous?—I, who have always despised nervousness?” She kept +saying to herself, “I will go to bed in a few minutes.” But the idea of +lying there on that narrow shelf, staring at the light from the grating, +repelled her. “At any rate I will <i>not</i> go on deck.”</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later she opened her door and went out.</p> + +<p>The swinging lamp in the saloon was turned down, the place was empty; +she crossed the short<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a> half-circle which led to the stern-deck, and +stepped outside. There was no moon, but a magnificent aurora borealis +was quivering across the sky, now an even band, now sending out long +flakes of light which waved to and fro. Before she looked at the +splendid heavens, however, she had scanned the deck. There was no one +there. She sat down on one of the benches.</p> + +<p>Presently she heard a step, some one was approaching. There was a gleam +of a cigar; a man’s figure; Paul.</p> + +<p>“Is that you? I thought there would be no one here,” she said.</p> + +<p>“We are the only passengers,” Paul answered. “But, as there are six of +us, you cannot quite control us all.”</p> + +<p>“I control no one.” (“Not even myself!” she thought.)</p> + +<p>“You will have your wish, though you ought not to; despots shouldn’t be +humored. You will have the place to yourself in a few moments, because I +shall turn in soon—the time to finish this cigar—if you don’t mind the +smoke?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t mind,” she answered, a chill of disappointment creeping +slowly over her.</p> + +<p>“Hasn’t it been jolly?” Paul said, after a moment: he had seated himself +on a stool near her bench. “I do love to be out like this, away from all +bother.”</p> + +<p>“Do you? I thought you didn’t.”</p> + +<p>The words were no sooner out than she feared he would say, “Why?” And +then her answer (for of course she must say something; she could not let +him believe that she had had no idea)—her answer<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a> would show that she +had been thinking about him.</p> + +<p>But apparently Paul was not curious, he did not ask. “It’s very good for +Cicely too; I wish I could take her oftener,” he went on. “Her promise +to stay on here weighs upon her heavily. I don’t know whether she would +have kept her word with me or not; but you know, of course, that Ferdie +himself has written, telling her that she must stay?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“She didn’t tell you?”</p> + +<p>“She tells me nothing!” replied Eve. “If she would only allow it, I +would go down there to-morrow. I could be the nurse; I could be the +housekeeper; anything.”</p> + +<p>“You’re not needed down there, they have plenty of people; we want you +here, to see to her.”</p> + +<p>“One or the other of them;—I hope they will always permit it. I can be +of use, perhaps, about Jack.”</p> + +<p>“You are too humble, Miss Bruce; sometimes you seem to be almost on your +knees to Cicely, as though you had done her some great wrong. The truth +is the other way; she ought to be on her knees to you. You brought her +off when she hadn’t the force to come herself, poor little woman! And +you did it boldly and quickly, just as a man would have done it. Now +that I know you, I can imagine the whole thing.”</p> + +<p>“Never speak of that time; never,” murmured Eve.</p> + +<p>“Well, I won’t, then, if you don’t like it. But you will let me say how +glad I am that you intend to remain with her, at least for a while. You +will<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a> see from this that I don’t believe a word of her story about your +dislike for my brother.”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing I would not do for him!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you like to do things; to be active. They tell me that you are +fond of having your own way; but that is the very sort of person they +need—a woman like you, strong and cool. After a while you would really +like Ferdie, you couldn’t help it. And he would like you.”</p> + +<p>“It is impossible that he should like me.” She rose quickly.</p> + +<p>“You’re going in? Well, fifteen hours in the open air <i>are</i> an opiate. +Should you care to go forward first for a moment? I can show you a place +where you can look down below; there are two hundred emigrants on board; +Norwegians.”</p> + +<p>She hesitated, drawing her shawl about her.</p> + +<p>“Take my arm; I can guide you better so. It’s dark, and I know the ins +and outs.”</p> + +<p>She put her hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>He drew it further through. “I don’t want you to be falling down!”</p> + +<p>They went forward along the narrow side. Conversation was not easy, they +had to make their way round various obstacles by sense of feeling; still +Eve talked; she talked hastily, irrelevantly. When she came to the end +of her breath she found herself speaking this sentence: “I like your +friend Mr. Hollis so much!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Kit is a wonderful fellow; he has extraordinary talent.” He spoke +in perfect good faith.</p> + +<p>“Oh, extraordinary?” said Eve, abandoning Hollis with feminine +versatility, as an obscure feeling, which she did not herself recognize, +rose within her.<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a></p> + +<p>“If you don’t think so, it’s because you don’t know him. He is an +excellent classical scholar, to begin with; he has read everything under +the sun; he is an inventor, a geologist, and one of the best lawyers in +the state, in spite of his notion about not practising.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t add that he is an excellent auctioneer?”</p> + +<p>“No; that he is not, I am sorry to say; he is a very bad one.”</p> + +<p>“Yet it is the occupation which he has himself selected. Does that show +such remarkable talent? Now you, with your mining—” She stopped.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t select mining,” answered Paul, roughly, “and I’m not +particularly good at it; I took what I could get, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>They had now reached the forward deck. Two men belonging to the crew +were sitting on a pile of rope; above, patrolling the small upper +platform, was the officer in charge; they could not see him, but they +could hear his step. To get to the bow, they walked as it were up hill; +they reached the sharp point, and looked down over the high, smooth +sides which were cutting the deep water so quietly. Eve’s glance turned +to the splendid aurora quivering and shining above.</p> + +<p>“This <i>T. P. Mayhew</i> is an excellent boat,” remarked Paul, who was still +looking over the sides. “But, as to that, all the N. T. boats are good.”</p> + +<p>“N. T.?”</p> + +<p>“Northern Transportation.” He gave a slight yawn.</p> + +<p>“Tell me about your iron,” said Eve, quickly. (“Oh, he will go in! he is +going in!” was her thought.)<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a></p> + +<p>“It isn’t mine—I wish it was; I’m only manager.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean the mine here; I mean your Clay County iron.”</p> + +<p>“What do you know about that?” said Paul, surprised.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hollis told me; he said you had declined an excellent offer, and he +was greatly concerned about it; he told me the reasons why he did not +agree with you.”</p> + +<p>“It must have been interesting! But that all happened some time ago; +didn’t you know that he had come round to my view of it, after all?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, round he came; it took him eight days. He has got such a +look-on-all-sides head that, when he starts out to investigate, he +tramps all over the sky; if he intends to go north, he goes east, west, +and south first, so as to make sure that these are not the right +directions. However, on the eighth day in he came, squeezing himself +through a crack, as usual, and explained to me at length the reasons why +it was better, on the whole, to decline that offer. He had thought the +matter out to its remotest contingencies—some of them went over into +the next century! It was remarkably clear and well argued; and of course +very satisfactory to me.”</p> + +<p>“But in the meantime you had already declined, hadn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. But it was a splendid piece of following up. I declare, I always +feel my inferiority when I am with people who can really talk—talk like +that!”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Eve, in accents of remonstrance. Her tone was so eloquent +that Paul laughed. He laughed<a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a> to himself, but she heard it, or rather +she felt it; she drew her hand quickly from his arm.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be vexed. I was only laughing to see how—”</p> + +<p>“How what?”</p> + +<p>“How invariably you women flatter.”</p> + +<p>“<i>I</i> don’t.” She spoke hurriedly, confusedly.</p> + +<p>“You had better learn, then,” Paul went on, still laughing; “I’m afraid +that when we’re well stuffed with it we’re more good-natured. Shall I +take you back to the stern? I’m getting frightfully sleepy; aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>On the way back she did not speak.</p> + +<p>When they reached the stern-deck, “Good-night,” he said, promptly +opening the door into the lighted saloon.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him; in her face there was an inattention to the +present, an inattention to what he was saying. Her eyes scanned his +features with a sort of slow wonder. But it was a wonder at herself.</p> + +<p>“You had better see that the windows are closed,” said Paul. “There’s +going to be a change of wind.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI.</h2> + +<p>E<small>VE’S</small> cheeks showed a deep rose bloom; she was no longer the snow-white +woman whom near-sighted Miss Sabrina had furtively scanned upon her +arrival at Romney six months before. She was still markedly erect, but +her step had become less confident, her despotic manner had disappeared. +Often now she was irresolute, and she had grown awkward—a<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a> thing new +with her; she did not know how to arrange her smallest action, hampered +by this new quality.</p> + +<p>But since the terrible hour when Ferdie had appeared at the end of the +corridor with his candle held aloft and his fixed eyes, life with her +had rushed along so rapidly that she had seemed to be powerless in its +current. The first night in Paul’s cottage, in her little room next to +Cicely’s, she had spent hours on her knees by the bedside pouring forth +in a flood of gratitude to Some One, Somewhere—she knew no formulas of +prayer—that she had been delivered from the horror that had held her +speechless through all the long journey. Ferdie was living! She repeated +it over and over—Ferdie was living!</p> + +<p>At the time there had been no plan; she had stepped back into her room +to get the pistol, not with any purpose of attack, but in order not to +be without some means of defence. The pistol was one of Jack’s, which +she had found and taken possession of soon after her arrival, +principally because it had been his; she had seen him with it often; +with it he himself had taught her to shoot. Then at the last, when +Jack’s poor little boy had climbed up by the boat’s seat, and the madman +had made that spring towards him, then she had—done what she did. She +had done it mechanically; it had seemed the only thing to do.</p> + +<p>But, once away, the horror had come, as it always does and must, when by +violence a human life has been taken. She had dropped the pistol into +the Sound, but she could not drop the ghastly picture of the dark figure +on the sand, with its arms making two or three spasmodic motions, then +becoming suddenly still. Was he dead? If he was, she, Eve<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a> Bruce, was a +murderer, a creature to be imprisoned for life,—hanged. How people +would shrink from her if they knew! And how monstrous it was that she +should touch Cicely! Yet she must. Cain, where is thy brother? And the +Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. Would +it come to this, that she should be forced at last to take her own life, +in order to be free from the horror of murder? These were the constant +thoughts of that journey northward, without one moment’s respite day or +night.</p> + +<p>But deliverance had come: he was alive! God was good after all, God was +kind; he had lifted from her this pall of death. He was alive! He was +alive!</p> + +<p>“Oh, I did not do it! I am innocent! That figure has gone from the sand; +it got up and walked away!” She laughed in the relief, the reaction, and +buried her face in the pillow to stifle it. “Cicely will not know what I +am laughing at; she will wonder. I need never tell her anything now, +because the only men who were suspected have got safely away. She is +safe, little Jack is safe, and Ferdie is not dead; he is alive—alive!” +So swept on through the night the tide of her immense joy. For the next +day and the next, for many days after, this joy surged within her, its +outward expression being the flush, and the brilliant light in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Eve Bruce had a strongly truthful nature, she was frank not only with +others, but with herself; she possessed the unusual mental quality +(unusual in a woman) of recognizing facts, whether they were agreeable +or not; of living without illusions. This had helped to give her, +perhaps, her brusque<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> manner, with its absence of gentleness, its scanty +sweetness. With her innate truthfulness, it was not long before this +woman perceived that there was another cause contributing to the +excitement that was quickening her breath and making life seem new. The +discovery had come suddenly.</p> + +<p>It had been arranged that on a certain day they should walk out to the +mine, Paul, the judge, Hollis, and herself. When the time came, Hollis +appeared alone, Paul was too busy to leave the office. They walked out +to the mine. But Eve felt her feet dragging, she was unaccountably +depressed. Upon her return, as she came in sight of the cottage, she +remembered how happy she had been there the day before, and for many +days. What had changed? Had she not the same unspeakable great cause for +joy? For what reason did the day seem dull and the sky dark? And then +the truth showed itself: it was because Paul Tennant was not there; +nothing else.</p> + +<p>Another woman would have veiled it, would not have acknowledged the fact +even to herself; for women have miraculous power of really believing +only what they wish to believe; for many women facts, taken alone, do +not exist. But Eve had no such endowments. She had reached her room; she +pushed to the door and stood there motionless; after two or three +minutes she sank into the nearest chair; here she sat without stirring +for some time. Then she rose, went down the stairs, and out again. It +was six o’clock, but there were still two hours of daylight; she hurried +towards the nearest border of forest, and, just within its fringe, she +began walking rapidly to and fro, her hands, clasped together, hanging<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a> +before her, her eyes on the ground. She did not come back until +nightfall.</p> + +<p>As she entered she met Paul.</p> + +<p>“I was coming to hunt for you. Where have you been?” He spoke with +surprise.</p> + +<p>Eve looked at him once. Then she turned away. What a change in herself! +Now she understood Cicely. Now she understood—yes, she understood +everything—the things she had always despised—pettiness, jealousy, +impossible hopes, disgrace, shame.</p> + +<p>“I was afraid Cicely would be alarmed,” Paul went on.</p> + +<p>And Eve was not offended that it was Cicely of whom he was thinking. It +had not yet occurred to her that he could think of her.</p> + +<p>She went in search of Cicely, who had nothing to say to her; then, +excusing herself, she retreated to her room. Here she took off her dress +and began to unbraid her hair. Then the thought came to her that Paul +would go to the parlor about this time, that he would play a game of +chess, perhaps, with the judge; hastily repairing the disorder she had +made, she rearranged the braids, felt in the rough closet for her +evening shoes, put them on, and went down-stairs again with rapid step.</p> + +<p>Cicely made no remark as she came in; Paul and the judge were playing +their game, with Hollis looking on. Eve took a book and sat reading, or +apparently reading, at some distance. “Oh, how abject this is! How +childish, how sickening!” Anger against herself rose hotly; under its +sting she felt her strength returning. She sat there as long as the +others did. “I will not make a second scene by going out” (but no one +had noticed her first). She<a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a> answered Paul’s good-night coldly. But when +she was back in her room again, when there was no more escape from its +four walls until morning, then she found herself without defences, +without pretexts, face to face with the fact that she loved this man, +this Paul Tennant, with all her heart. It was a surprise as great as if +she had suddenly become blind, or deaf, or mad—“stricken of God,” as +people call it. “I am stricken. But I am not sure it is of God!” That +she, no longer a girl, after all these years untouched by such +feelings—that she, with her clear vision and strong will (she had +always been so proud of her will), should be led captive in this way by +a stranger who cared nothing for her, who did not even wish to +capture—it was a sort of insanity. She paced her room to and fro as she +had paced the fringe of woods. She stretched out her hands and looked at +them as though they had been the hands of some one else; she struck one +of them upon her bare arm; she was so humiliated that she must hurt +something; that something should be herself. “If he should ever care for +me, I would refuse him,” she repeated, in bitter triumph. Immediately +the thought followed, “He will never care!”</p> + +<p>“I do not love him really,” she kept repeating. “I am not well; it will +pass.” But while she was saying this, there came a glow that +contradicted her, a glow before whose new sway she was helpless. “Oh, I +do! I loved him the first day I saw him. What is that old phrase?—I +love the ground he walks on.” She buried her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>“How strange! I am happier than I have ever been in my life before; I +didn’t know that there was such happiness!” A door seemed to open, +showing a<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a> way out of her trouble, a way which led to a vision of subtle +sweetness—her life through the future with this passion hidden like a +treasure in her heart, no one to know it, no one to suspect its +existence. “As I am to be nothing to him, as I wish to be nothing to +him, I shall not care whom <i>he</i> loves; that is nothing to me.” Upon this +basis she would arrange her life.</p> + +<p>But it is not so easy to arrange life. Almost immediately she began to +suffer, a species of suffering, too, to which she was unused: trifles +annoyed her like innumerable stings—she was not able to preserve her +calm; as regarded anything important, she could have been herself, or so +she imagined; but little things irritated her, and the days were full of +little things. She rebelled against this nervousness, but she could not +subdue it; and gradually the beautiful vision of her life, as she had +imagined it, faded away miserably in a cloud of petty exasperations and +despair. After wretched hours, unable to endure her humiliation longer, +she resolved to conquer herself at any cost, to set herself free; she +could not go away, because she would not leave Cicely; there was still +her brother’s child; but here, on the spot, she would overcome this +feeling that had taken possession of her and changed her so that she did +not know herself. “I <i>will</i>!” she said. It was a vow; her will was the +strongest force of her being.</p> + +<p>This very will blinded her, she was too sure of it. She was in earnest +about wishing and intending to win in her great battle. But she forgot +the details.</p> + +<p>These are some of the details:</p> + +<p>The one time of day when Paul was neither at the mine nor in his office +was at sunset; twice she went through a chain of reasoning to prove to +herself that<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a> she had a necessary errand at that hour at one of the +stores; both times she met him. She had heard Paul say that he liked to +see women sew; she was no needlewoman; but presently she began to +embroider an apron for Jack (with very poor success). Paul was no +reader; he looked through the newspapers once a day, and when it rained +very hard in the evening, and there was nothing else to do, occasionally +he took up his one book; for he had but one, at least so Hollis +declared; at any rate he read but one; this one was Gibbon. The only +edition of the great history in the little book-store of Port aux Pins +was a miserably printed copy in paper covers. But a lady bought it in +spite of its blurred type.</p> + +<p>Finally this same lady went to church. It was on a Sunday afternoon, the +second service; she came in late, and took a seat in the last pew. When +had Eve Bruce been to church before? Paul went once in a while. And it +was when she saw his head towering above the heads of the shorter people +about him, as the congregation rose to repeat the creed—it was then +suddenly that the veil was lifted and she saw the truth: this was what +she had come for.</p> + +<p>She did not try to deny it, she comprehended her failure. After this she +ceased to struggle, she only tried to be quiet. She lived from day to +day, from hour to hour; it was a compromise. “But I shall not be here +long; something will separate us; soon, perhaps in a few weeks, it will +have come to an end, and then I may never see him again.” So she +reasoned, passively.</p> + +<p>About this time Cicely fell ill. The Port aux Pins doctor had at length +given a name to her listlessness and her constantly increasing physical +weakness;<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> he called it nervous prostration (one of the modern titles +for grief, or an aching heart).</p> + +<p>“What do you advise?” Paul had asked.</p> + +<p>“Take her away.”</p> + +<p>Two days later they were living under tents at Jupiter Light.</p> + +<p>“We cannot get off this evening; it is perfectly impossible,” the judge +had declared, bewildered by Paul’s sudden decision, not knowing as yet +whether he agreed with it or not, and furthermore harried by the arrival +of tents, provisions, Indians, cooks, and kettles, the kettles invading +even the dining-room, his especial retreat.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we shall go; never you fear,” said Hollis, who was hard at work +boxing up an iron bedstead. “At the last moment Paul will drive us all +on board like a flock of sheep.”</p> + +<p>And, at nine o’clock that night, they did embark, the judge, who had +given up comprehending anything, walking desperately behind the others; +Hollis, weighed down with rods and guns, and his own clothing escaping +from newspapers; a man cook; a band of Indians; Porley and Jack; Eve; +and, last of all, Cicely, tenderly carried in Paul’s arms. In a week the +complete change, the living under canvas in the aromatic air of the +pines, produced a visible effect; Cicely began to recover her lost +vitality; the alarming weakness disappeared. Every day there came her +letter or despatch, one of the Indians going fifteen miles for it, in a +canoe; the message was always favorable, Ferdie was constantly +improving. All was arranged, Paul was to go southward in July. He and +Cicely had frequent talks (talks which Paul tried to make as cheerful as +possible); perhaps, next<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a> winter, they should all be living together at +Port aux Pins; that is, in case it should be thought best to give up +Valparaiso, after all. Cicely read and re-read the letters; she always +kept the last one under her dress on her heart; for the rest she floated +in the canoe, and she played with Jack, who bloomed with health to that +extent that he was called the Porpoise. The judge, happy in the +improvement of his darling little girl, fished; snarled with Hollis; +then fished again. Hollis, always attired in his black coat, showed +positive genius in the matter of broiling. And Paul came and went as he +was able. As he could not be absent long from the mine, he made the +journey to Port aux Pins every three days, leaving Hollis in charge at +the camp during his absence. One day Hollis also was obliged to go to +Port aux Pins. And while he was there he attended an evening party. This +entertainment he described for Cicely’s amusement upon his return. For +she was the central person to them all; they gathered round her, they +obeyed eagerly her slightest wish; when she laughed, they laughed also, +they were so glad to see life once more animating her white little face; +it was for this that Hollis prolonged his story, and quoted Shakespeare; +he would have stood on his head if it would have made her smile.</p> + +<p>A part of Hollis’s description: “So then her sister Idora started on the +piano an accompaniment that went like this: <i>Bang!</i> la-la-la. <i>Bang!</i> +la-la-la, and Miss Parthenia, she began singing:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;"><i>‘O why-ee should the white man follow my path</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Like the hound on the tiger’s track?’</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>And then, with her hand over her mouth, she gave us a regular Indian +war-whoop.”<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a></p> + +<p>“How I wish I had been there!” said Cicely, with sudden laughter.</p> + +<p>“She’ll whoop for you at any time; proud to,” continued Hollis. “Well, +after the song was over, Mother Drone she sat back in her chair, and she +loosened her cap-strings on the sly. Says she: ‘I hope the girls won’t +see me doing this, Mr. Hollis; they think tarlatan strings tied under +the chin for a widow are so sweet. I told them I’d been a widow fifteen +years without ’em; but they say, now they’ve grown up, I ought to have +strings for their sakes, and be more prominent. Is Idora out on the +steps with Wolf Roth? Would you mind peeking? ’ So I peeked. But Wolf +Roth was there alone. ‘He don’t look dangerous,’ I remarked, when I’d +loped back. Says she: ‘He’d oughter, then. And he would, too, if he knew +it was me he sees when he comes serenading. I tap the girls on the +shoulder: ‘Girls? Wolf Roth and his guitar!’ But you might as well tap +the seven sleepers! So I have to cough, and I have to glimp, and Wolf +Roth—he little thinks it’s ma’am!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what is glimp?” said Cicely, still laughing.</p> + +<p>“It’s showing a light through the blinds, very faint and shy,” answered +Hollis.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;"><i>”‘Thou know’st the mask of night is on me face,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Else would a maid-en blush bepaint me cheek,’”</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">he quoted, gravely. “That’s about the size of it, I guess.”</p> + +<p>Having drawn the last smile from Cicely, he went off to his tent, and +presently he and the judge started for the nearest trout-brook together.</p> + +<p>Paul came up from the beach. “There’s an Indian<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a> village two miles above +here, Cicely; do you care to have a look at it? I could take you and +Miss Bruce in the little canoe.”</p> + +<p>But Cicely was tired: often now, after a sudden fit of merriment (which +seemed to be a return, though infinitely fainter, of her old wild +moods), she would look exhausted. “I think I will swing in the hammock,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“Will you go, then, Miss Bruce?” Paul asked, carelessly.</p> + +<p>“Thanks; I have something to do.”</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, Paul having gone off by himself, she was sitting on +a fallen tree on the shore, at some distance from the tents, when his +canoe glided suddenly into view, coming round a near point; he beached +it and sprang ashore.</p> + +<p>“You surely have not had time to go to that village?” she said, rising.</p> + +<p>“Did I say I was going alone? Apparently what you had to do was not so +very important,” he added, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I was occupied,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“We can go still, if you like; there is time.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you;—no.”</p> + +<p>Paul gave her a look. She fancied that she saw in it regret. “Is it very +curious—your village? Perhaps it would be amusing, after all.”</p> + +<p>He helped her into the canoe, and the next moment they were gliding up +the lake. The village was a temporary one, twenty or thirty wigwams in a +grove. Only the women and children were at home, the sweet-voiced young +squaws in their calico skirts and blankets, the queer little mummy-like +pappooses, the half-naked children. They brought out bows<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a> and arrows to +sell, agates which they had found on the beach, Indian sugar in little +birch-bark boxes, quaintly ornamented.</p> + +<p>“Tell them to gather some bluebells for me,” said Eve. Her face had an +expression of joyousness; every now and then she laughed like a merry +girl.</p> + +<p>Paul repeated her request in the Chippewa tongue, and immediately all +the black-eyed children sallied forth, returning with large bunches of +the fragile-stemmed flowers, so that Eve’s hands were full. She +lingered, sitting on the side of an old canoe; she distributed all the +small coins she had. Finally they were afloat again; she wondered who +had suggested it. “There’s a gleam already,” she said, as they passed +Jupiter Light. “Some day I should like to go out there.”</p> + +<p>“I can take you now,” Paul answered. And he sent the canoe flying +towards the reef.</p> + +<p>She had made no protest. “He wished to go,” she said to herself, +contentedly.</p> + +<p>The distance was greater than she had supposed; it was twilight when +they reached the miniature beach.</p> + +<p>“Shall we make them let us in, and climb up to the top?” suggested Paul.</p> + +<p>She laughed. “No; better not.”</p> + +<p>She looked up at the tower. Paul, standing beside her, his arms folded, +his head thrown back, was looking up also. “I can’t see the least light +from here,” he said. Then again, “<i>Don’t</i> you want to go up?”</p> + +<p>“Well—if you like.”</p> + +<p>It was dark within; a man came down with a lantern, and preceded them up +the narrow winding<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a> stairway. When they reached the top they could see +nothing but the interior of the little room; so down they came again, +without even saying the usual things: about the probable queerness of +life in such a place; and whether any one could really like it; and that +some persons might be found who would consider it an ideal residence and +never wish to come away. Though their stay had been so short, their +going up so aimless, the expedition did not seem to Eve at all stupid; +in her eyes it had the air of an exciting adventure.</p> + +<p>“They will be wondering where we are,” said Paul, as he turned the canoe +homeward. She did not answer, it was sweet to her to sit there in +silence, and feel the light craft dart forward through the darkness +under his strong strokes. Who were “they"? Why should “they” wonder? +Paul too said nothing. Unconsciously she believed that he shared her +mood.</p> + +<p>When they reached the camp he helped her out. “I hope you are not too +tired? At last I can have the credit of doing something that has pleased +you; I saw how much you wanted to go.”</p> + +<p>He saw how much she had wanted to go!—that spoiled all. Anger filled +her heart to suffocation.</p> + +<p>Two hours later she stood looking from her tent for a moment. Cicely and +Jack, with whom she shared it, were asleep, and she herself was wrapped +in a blue dressing-gown over her delicate night-dress, her hair in long +braids hanging down her back. The judge and Hollis had gone to bed, the +Indians were asleep under their own tent; all was still, save the +regular wash of the water on the beach. By the dying light of the +camp-fire she could make<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a> out a figure—Paul, sitting alone beside one +of their rough tables, with his elbow upon it, his head supported by his +hand. Something in his attitude struck her, and reasonlessly, silently, +her anger against him vanished, and its place was filled by a great +tenderness. What was he thinking of? She did not know; she only knew one +thing—that she loved him. After looking at him for some minutes she +dropped the flap of the tent and stole to bed, where immediately she +began to imagine what she might say to him if she were out there, and +what he might reply; her remarks should be very original, touching, or +brilliant; and he would be duly impressed, and would gradually show more +interest. And then, when he began to advance, she would withdraw. So at +last she fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, outside by the dying fire, what was Paul Tennant thinking of? +His Clay County iron. He had had another offer, and this project was one +in which he should himself have a share. But could he accept it? Could +he pledge himself to advance the money required? He had only his salary +at present, all his savings having gone to Valparaiso; there were +Ferdie’s expenses to think of, and Ferdie’s wife, that little wife so +unreasonable and so sweet, she too must lack nothing. It grew towards +midnight; still he sat there pondering, adding figures mentally, +calculating. The bird which had so insistently cried “Whip-po-<i>Will</i>,” +“Whip-po-<i>Will</i>,” had ceased its song; there came from a distance, +twice, the laugh of a loon; Jupiter Light went on flashing its gleam +regularly over the lake.</p> + +<p>The man by the fire never once thought of Eve Bruce.<a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII.</h2> + +<p>P<small>AUL’S</small> arrangements, as regarded Cicely, had been excellent. But an hour +arrived when the excellence suddenly became of no avail; for Cicely’s +mood changed. When the change had taken place, nothing that any of these +persons, who were devoting themselves to her, could do or say, weighed +with her for one instant. She came from her tent one morning, and said, +“Grandpa, please come down to the shore for a moment.” She led the way, +and the judge followed her. When they reached the beach the moon was +rising, its narrow golden path crossed the lake to their feet. “I can’t +stay here any longer, grandpa.”</p> + +<p>“We will go back to Port aux Pins, then, dearie; though it seems a pity, +you have been so well here.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean Port aux Pins; I am going to Romney.”</p> + +<p>“But I thought Ferdie had written to you not to come? Tennant certainly +said so, he assured me that Ferdie had written, urging you to stay here; +he has no right to deceive me in that way—Paul Tennant; it’s +outrageous!”</p> + +<p>“Ferdie did write. And he didn’t urge me to stay, he commanded me.”</p> + +<p>“Then you must obey him,” said the judge.</p> + +<p>“No; I must disobey him.” She stood looking absently at the water. “He +has some reason.”</p> + +<p>“Of course he has—an excellent one; he wants to<a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a> keep you out of the +mess of a long illness—you and Jack.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would never mention Jack to me again.”</p> + +<p>“My dear little girl,—not mention Jack? Why, how can we talk at all, +without mentioning baby?”</p> + +<p>“You and Eve keep bringing him into every conversation, because you +think it will have an influence—make me give up Ferdie. Nothing will +make me give up Ferdie. So you need not talk of baby any more.”</p> + +<p>The judge looked at her with eyes of despair.</p> + +<p>Cicely went on. “No; it is not his illness that made Ferdie tell me to +stay here. He has some other reason. And I am <i>afraid.</i>”</p> + +<p>“What are you afraid of?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,—that is the worst of it! Since his letter, I have +imagined everything. I cannot bear it any longer; you must take me to +him to-morrow, or I shall start by myself; I could easily do it, I could +outwit you twenty times over.”</p> + +<p>“Outwit? You talk in that way to <i>me?</i>”</p> + +<p>Cicely watched him as his face quivered, all his features seeming to +shrink together for an instant. “I suppose I seem selfish, grandpa.” She +threw out her hands with sudden passion. “I don’t want to be, I don’t +mean to be! It is you who are keeping me here. Can’t you see that I +<i>must</i> go? <i>Can’t</i> you?”</p> + +<p>“Why no, I can’t,” said the old man, terrified by her vehemence.</p> + +<p>“There’s no use talking, then.” She left him, and went back through the +woods towards the tents.</p> + +<p>The judge came up from the beach alone. Hollis,<a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a> who was sitting by the +fire, noted his desolate face. “Euchre?” he proposed, good-naturedly. +(He called it “yuke.”) But the judge neither saw him nor heard him.</p> + +<p>As Cicely reached her tent, she met Eve coming out, with Jack in her +arms. She seized the child, felt of his feet and knees, and then, +holding him tightly, she carried him to the fire, where she seated +herself on a bench. Eve came also, and stood beside the fire. After a +moment the judge seated himself humbly on the other end of the bench +which held his grandchild. There was a pause, broken only by the +crackling of the flame. Then Cicely said, with a dry little laugh, “You +had better go to your tent, Mr. Hollis. You need not take part in this +family quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“Quarrel!” replied Hollis, cheerily. “Who could quarrel with you, Mrs. +Morrison? Might as well quarrel with a bobolink.” No one answered him. +“Don’t know as you’ve ever seen a bobolink?” he went on, rather +anxiously. “I assure you—lively and magnificent!”</p> + +<p>“It is a pity you are so devoted to Paul,” remarked Cicely, looking at +him.</p> + +<p>“Devoted? Well, now, I never thought I should come to <i>that</i>,” said +Hollis, with a grin of embarrassment, kicking the brands of the fire +apart with, his boot.</p> + +<p>“Because if you weren’t, I might take you into my confidence—I need +some one; I want to run away from grandpa and Eve.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I dare say,” said Hollis, jocularly. But his eyes happening to fall +first upon Eve, then upon the judge, he grew suddenly disturbed. “Why +don’t<a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a> you take Paul?” he suggested, still trying to be jocular. “He is +a better helper than I am.”</p> + +<p>“Paul is my head jailer,” answered Cicely. “Grandpa and Eve are only his +assistants.”</p> + +<p>The judge covered his face with his hand. Hollis saw that he was +suffering acutely. “Paul had better come and defend himself,” he said, +still clinging to his jocosity; “I am going to get him.” And he started +towards Paul’s tent with long swinging strides, like the lope of an +Indian.</p> + +<p>“Cicely,” said Eve, coming to the bench, “I will take you to Romney, if +that is what you want; we will start to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Saul among the prophets!” answered Cicely, cynically. “Are you planning +to escape from me with Jack, as I am planning to escape from grandpa?”</p> + +<p>“I am not planning anything; I only want to help you.”</p> + +<p>Cicely looked at her. “Curiously enough, Eve, I believe you. I don’t +know what has changed you, but I believe you.”</p> + +<p>The judge looked up; the two women held each other’s hands. The judge +left his seat and hurried away.</p> + +<p>He arrived at Paul’s tent breathless. The hanging lamp within +illuminated a rude table which held ink and paper; Paul had evidently +stopped in the midst of his writing, for he still held his pen in his +hand.</p> + +<p>“I was saying to Paul that he really ought to come out now and talk to +the ladies, instead of crooking his back over that writing,” said +Hollis.</p> + +<p>But the judge waved him aside. “For God’s sake, Tennant, come out, and +see what you can do<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a> with Cicely! She is determined to go to that +murdering brother of yours in spite of—“</p> + +<p>“Hold up, if you please, about my brother,” said Paul, putting down his +pen.</p> + +<p>“And Eve is abetting her;—says she will take her to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Not Miss Bruce? What has made her change so?—confound her!”</p> + +<p>The judge had already started to lead the way back. But Hollis, who was +behind, touched Paul’s arm. “I say, don’t confound her too much, Paul,” +he said, in a low tone. “She is a remarkably clever girl. And she thinks +a lot of you.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry for her, then,” answered Paul, going out. As Hollis still kept up +with him, he added, “How do you know she does?”</p> + +<p>“Because I like her myself,” answered Hollis, bravely. “When you’re that +way, you know, you can always tell.”</p> + +<p>He fell behind. Paul went on alone.</p> + +<p>When he reached the camp-fire, Cicely looked up. “Oh, you’ve come!”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“There are two of us now. Eve is on my side.”</p> + +<p>“So I have heard.” He went to Eve, took her arm, and led her away almost +by force to the shadow at some distance from the fire. “What in the +world has made you change so?” he said. “Do you know—it’s abject.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s abject,” Eve answered. She could see him looking at her in +the dusky darkness; she had never been looked at in such a way before. +“It’s brave, too,” she added, trying to keep back the tears.</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand riddles.”<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a></p> + +<p>“I think you understand mine.” She had said it. She had been seized with +a sudden wild desire to make an end of it, to put it into words. The +overweight of daring which nature had given her drew her on.</p> + +<p>“Well, if I do, then,” answered Paul, “why don’t you want to please me?”</p> + +<p>She turned her head away, suffocated by his calm acceptance of her +avowal. “It would be of no use. And I want to make one woman happy; so +few women are happy!”</p> + +<p>“Do you call it happy to have Ferdie knocking her about?”</p> + +<p>“She does.”</p> + +<p>“And knocking about Jack, too?”</p> + +<p>“I shall be there, I can take care of Jack.”</p> + +<p>“I see I can do nothing with you. You have lost your senses!”</p> + +<p>He went back to Cicely. “Ferdie has his faults, Cicely, as we both know; +but you have yours too, you make yourself out too important. How many +other women do you think he has cared for?”</p> + +<p>“Before he saw me, five hundred, if you like; five thousand.”</p> + +<p>“And since he saw you—since he married you?”</p> + +<p>Cicely laughed happily.</p> + +<p>“I will bring you something,” said Paul. He went off to his tent.</p> + +<p>Eve came rapidly to Cicely. “Don’t believe a word he tells you!”</p> + +<p>“If it is anything against Ferdie, of course I shall not,” answered +Cicely, composedly.</p> + +<p>The judge had followed Paul to his tent. He waited anxiously outside, +and then followed him back.<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a></p> + +<p>“I don’t believe, after all, Cicely, that you are going to do what I +don’t want you to do,” said Paul, in a cheerful tone, as he came up. He +seemed to have abandoned whatever purpose he had had, for he brought +nothing with him—his hands were empty.</p> + +<p>Cicely did not reply, she played with a curl of Jack’s hair.</p> + +<p>“Ferdie himself doesn’t want you to go; you showed me his letter saying +so.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that enough, then? Come, don’t be so cold with me,” Paul went on, +his voice taking caressing tones.</p> + +<p>Cicely felt their influence. “I want to go, Paul, because that very +letter of Ferdie’s makes me afraid,” she said, wistfully; “I feel that +there is something behind, something I do not know.”</p> + +<p>“If there is, it is something which he does not wish you to know.”</p> + +<p>“That could never be; it is only because I am not with him; when I am +with him, he tells me everything, he likes to tell me.”</p> + +<p>“Will you take my word for it if I assure you that it is much better for +both of you, not only for yourself, but for Ferdie, that you stay here +awhile longer?”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Cicely, hardening. Her “no” was quiet, but it expressed an +obstinacy that was immovable.</p> + +<p>Paul looked at her. “Will you wait a week?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Will you wait three days?”</p> + +<p>“I shall start to-morrow,” replied Cicely.<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a></p> + +<p>“Read this, then.” He took a letter from his pocket and held it towards +her, his name, “Paul Tennant, Esq.,” clearly visible on the envelope in +the light of the flame.</p> + +<p>But at the same instant Eve bent forward; she grasped his arm, drawing +his hand back.</p> + +<p>“Don’t <i>you</i> interfere,” he said, freeing himself.</p> + +<p>Eve turned to the judge. “Oh, take her away!”</p> + +<p>“Where to? I relied upon Tennant; I thought Tennant would be able to do +something,” said the old man, miserably.</p> + +<p>Paul meanwhile, his back turned squarely to Eve, was again holding out +the letter to Cicely.</p> + +<p>Cicely did not take it.</p> + +<p>“I’ll read it aloud, then.” He drew the sheet from its envelope, and, +opening it, began, “‘Dear old Paul—’”</p> + +<p>Cicely put out both her hands,—“Give it to me.” She took it hastily. +“Oh, how can you treat him so—Ferdie, your own brother!” Her eyes were +full of tears.</p> + +<p>“I cared for him before you ever saw him,” answered Paul, exasperated. +“What do you know about my feelings? Ferdie wishes you to stay here, and +every one thinks you exceedingly wrong to go—every one except Miss +Bruce, who seems to have lost her head.” Here he flashed a short look at +Eve.</p> + +<p>“I shall go!” cried Cicely.</p> + +<p>“Because you think he cannot get on without you?”</p> + +<p>“I know he cannot.”</p> + +<p>“Read the letter, then.”</p> + +<p>“No, take the letter away from her,” said Eve. She spoke to Paul, and +her tone was a command.<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a> He looked at her; with a sudden change of +feeling he tried to obey her. But it was too late, Cicely had thrust the +letter into the bodice of her dress; then she rose, her sleeping child +in her arms. “Grandpa, will you come with me? Will you carry Jack?”</p> + +<p>“I will take him,” said Paul.</p> + +<p>“No, only grandpa, please; not even you, Eve; just grandpa and I. You +may come later; in fifteen minutes.” She spoke with a dignity which she +had never shown before, and they went away together, the old man +carrying the sleeping child.</p> + +<p>“What was in that letter?” Eve demanded accusingly, as soon as they were +left alone.</p> + +<p>“Well, another woman.”</p> + +<p>“Cruel!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it seems so now,” said Paul, disturbed. “My one idea about it was +that it might make her less confident that she was all-important to him; +in that way we could keep her on here a while longer.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, with a broken heart.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hearts! rubbish!—the point was to make her stay. You haven’t half +an idea how important it is, and I can’t tell you; she cannot go back to +him until I have been down there and—and changed some things, made new +arrangements.”</p> + +<p>“I think it the greatest cruelty I have ever heard of!” She hurried +through the woods towards the tents; Paul followed her.</p> + +<p>The judge came out as they approached. “She is reading it,” he said in a +whisper. “Tennant, I hope you know what you are about?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; that letter will make her stay,” answered Paul, decisively.<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a></p> + +<p>Eve turned to enter the tent.</p> + +<p>“The fifteen minutes are not up,” said Paul, holding her back.</p> + +<p>She drew away from him, but she did not try to enter again; they waited +in silence.</p> + +<p>Then came a sound. Eve ran within, the two men behind her.</p> + +<p>Little Jack, on the bed, was sleeping peacefully. Cicely had fallen from +her seat to the matting that covered the floor.</p> + +<p>Eve lifted her; kneeling on the matting, she held her in her arms.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII.</h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> letter, though it was only a partial revelation, roused in Ferdie’s +wife a passion of anger so intense that they were all alarmed. She did +not speak or stir; she sat looking at them; but her very immobility, +with the deep spot of red in each cheek, and her darkened narrowed eyes, +made her terrible. This state lasted for twenty-four hours, during which +time the poor old judge, unable to sit down or to sleep, wandered about, +Hollis accompanying him silently, and waiting outside when he went every +now and then to the entrance of the tent to look in. Paul came once. But +Cicely’s eyes darkened so when she saw him that Eve hurriedly motioned +him away. She followed him out.</p> + +<p>“Do not come again until I send for you.”</p> + +<p>“If there is nothing for me to do then, I might as well go to bed.”</p> + +<p>“You are fortunate in being able to sleep!”<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a></p> + +<p>“I shall sleep a great deal better than I did when I thought she would +be starting south in spite of us,” retorted Paul. “Imagine her arriving +there and finding out—It’s much worse than she knows; that letter only +tells a little. There are others, telling more, which I have kept back.”</p> + +<p>“Did you really, then, keep back anything!”</p> + +<p>“She’ll forgive me. She’ll forgive me, and like me better than ever; +you’ll see.”</p> + +<p>“And is it a question of you? It is her husband, her faith in him, her +love for him,” said Eve, passionately.</p> + +<p>“Oh, as to that, she will forgive <i>him</i> the very first moment she sees +him,” answered Paul, going off.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning of the second day, Cicely sent for him. “If you +don’t still believe in him, if you don’t still love him—” she began the +instant he entered, her poor little voice trying to be a threat.</p> + +<p>“Of course I believe in him.”</p> + +<p>“And he is noble? and good?”</p> + +<p>“If you can call him that—to-day—you are a trump,” said Paul, +delightedly.</p> + +<p>He had gained his point; and, by one of the miracles of love, she could +forgive her husband and excuse his fault; she could still worship him, +believe in him. Paul also believed in him, but in another way. And upon +this ground they met, Paul full of admiration for what he called her +pluck and common-sense (both were but love), and she adoring him for his +unswerving affection for his brother. Paul would go South soon; he +would—he would make arrangements. She pinned all her faith upon Paul +now; Paul was her demi-god because he believed in his brother.<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a></p> + +<p>And thus the camp-life went on again.</p> + +<p>One morning, not long after this, Hollis and the judge were sitting at +the out-door table, engaged with their fishing-tackle. Hollis was +talking of the approaches of old age.</p> + +<p>“Yes, two sure signs of it are a real liking for getting up early in the +morning, and a promptness in doing little things. Contrariwise, an +impatience with the younger people, who <i>don’t</i> do ’em.”</p> + +<p>“Stuff!” said the judge. “The younger people are lazy; that’s the whole +of it.”</p> + +<p>“Yet they do all the important work of the world,” Hollis went on; “old +people only potter round. Take Paul, now—he ain’t at all keen about +getting up at daylight; in fact, he has a most uncommon genius for +sleep; but, once up, he makes things drive all along the line, I can +tell you. Not the trifles” (here Hollis’s voice took a sarcastic tone); +“not what borrowed books must be sent here, nor what small packages left +there; you never saw <i>him</i> pasting slips out of a newspaper in a +blank-book, nor being particular about his ink, with a neat little tray +for pens; the things he concerns himself about are big things: ore +contracts, machinery for the mines, negotiations with thousands of +dollars tacked to the tail of ’em.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say,” said the judge, with a dry little yawn; “Mr. Tennant is, +without doubt, an excellent accountant.”</p> + +<p>The tone of this remark, however, was lost upon Hollis. “That Paul, now, +has done, since I’ve known him, at least twenty things that I couldn’t +have done myself, any one of them, to save my life,” he went on; “and +yet I’m no fool. Not that they were big<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a> undertakings, like the Suez +Canal or the capture of Vicksburg; but at least they were things <i>done</i>, +and completely done. Have you ever noticed how mighty easy it is to +believe that you <i>could</i> do all sorts of things if you only had the +opportunity? The best way, sir, to go on believing that is never to let +yourself try! I once had a lot of that kind of fool conceit myself. But +I know better now; I know that from top to bottom and all round I’m a +failure.”</p> + +<p>The judge made no effort to contradict this statement; he changed the +position of his legs a little, by way of answer, so as not to appear too +discourteous.</p> + +<p>“I’m a failure because I always see double,” pursued Hollis, +meditatively; “I’m like a stereoscope out of kilter. When I was +practising law, the man I was pitching into always seemed to me to have +his good side; contrariwise, the man I was defending had his bad one; +and rather more bad because my especial business was to make him out a +capital good fellow.”</p> + +<p>There was a sound of voices; Paul came through the wood on his way to +the beach, with Cicely; Eve, behind them, was leading Jack.</p> + +<p>“Are you going out again?” said the judge.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Paul can go this morning,” Cicely answered.</p> + +<p>“But you were out so long yesterday,” said the old man, following them.</p> + +<p>“Open air fatigue is a good fatigue,” said Paul, as he lifted Cicely +into one of the canoes.</p> + +<p>The judge had stopped at the edge of the beach; he now went slowly back +into the wood and joined Hollis.<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a></p> + +<p>“Your turn, Miss Bruce,” said Paul. And Eve and Jack were placed in a +second canoe. One of the Indians was to paddle it, but he was not quite +ready. Paul and Cicely did not wait; they started.</p> + +<p class="c">“I’s a-goin’ wis old Eve!—<i>old</i> Eve!—<i>old</i> Eve!”</p> + +<p class="nind">chanted Jack, at the top of his voice, to the tune of “Charley is my +darling,” which Hollis had taught him.</p> + +<p>“Seems mean that she should have to go with a Chip, when there are white +men round,” said Hollis.</p> + +<p>The judge made no reply.</p> + +<p>But Eve at that moment called, “Mr. Hollis, are you busy? If not, +couldn’t you come with me instead of this man?”</p> + +<p>Hollis advanced to the edge of the woods and made a bow. “I am +exceedingly pleased to accept. My best respects.” He then took off his +coat, and, clucking to the Indian as a sign of dismissal, he got into +the canoe with the activity of a boy, and pushed off.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful day. The thick woods on the shore were outlined +sharply in the Northern air against the blue sky. Hollis paddled slowly.</p> + +<p>“Why do you keep so far behind the other boat?” said Eve, after a while.</p> + +<p>“That’s so; I’m just loafing,” answered Hollis.</p> + +<p>“Christopher H., paddle right along,” he went on to himself. “You +needn’t be so afraid that Paul will grin; he’ll understand.”</p> + +<p>And Paul did understand. At the end of half an hour, when Eagle Point +was reached, and all had disembarked, he came to Hollis, and stood +beside him for a moment.<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a></p> + +<p>“This canoe is not one of the best,” Hollis remarked.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Paul.</p> + +<p>“I think we can make it do for a while longer, though,” Hollis went on, +examining it more closely.</p> + +<p>“I dare say we can,” Paul answered.</p> + +<p>They stood there together for a moment, rapping it and testing it in +various ways; then they separated, perfectly understanding each other. +“I really didn’t try to come with her:” this was the secret meaning of +Hollis’s remark about the canoe.</p> + +<p>And “I know you didn’t,” was the signification of Paul’s answer.</p> + +<p>Cicely and Eve were sitting on the beach. It was a wild shore, clean, +untouched by man; the pure waters of the lake rolled up and laved its +glistening brown pebbles. Jack ramped up and down against Eve’s knees. +“Sing to Jacky—poor, <i>poor</i> Jacky!” he demanded loudly.</p> + +<p>“That child is too depressing with his ‘Poor Jacky’!” said Cicely. +“Never say that again, Jack; do you hear?”</p> + +<p>“Poor, <i>poor</i> Jacky!” said the boy immediately, as though he were +irresistibly forced to try the phrase again.</p> + +<p>“He heard some one say it to that parrot in Port aux Pins,” explained +Eve.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I shall never be able to govern him!” Cicely answered.</p> + +<p>“Sing to Jacky, Aunty Eve—poor, poor Jacky!”</p> + +<p>And in a low tone Eve began to sing:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;"><i>”‘Row the boat, row the boat up to the strand;</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Before our door there is dry land.</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Who comes hither all booted and spurred?</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Little Jacky Bruce with his hand on his sword.’”</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Paul came up. “Now for a walk,” he said to Cicely.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry, Paul. But if I sit here it will be lovely; if I walk, I am +afraid I shall be too tired.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll stay here, then; I am not at all keen about a tramp.”</p> + +<p>“No, please go. And take Eve.”</p> + +<p>“Uncly Paul, not <i>old</i> Eve. I want old Eve,” announced Jack, reasonably.</p> + +<p>“You don’t seem to mind his calling you that,” said Paul, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Why should I?” Eve answered. “I don’t care for a walk, thanks.”</p> + +<p>“Make her go,” continued Cicely; “march her off.”</p> + +<p>“Will you march?” asked Paul.</p> + +<p>“Not without a drum and fife.”</p> + +<p>Jack was now cooing without cessation, and in his most insinuating +tones, “Sing to Jacky—poor, <i>poor</i> Jacky. Sing to Jacky—poor, <i>poor</i> +Jacky!”</p> + +<p>She took him in her arms and walked down the beach with him, going on +with her song in a low tone:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;"><i>”‘He knocks at the door and he pulls up the pin,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>And he says, “Mrs. Wingfield, is Polly within?”</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>“Oh, Polly’s up-stairs a-sewing her silk.”</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;"><i>Down comes Miss Polly as white as milk.’”</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>“Eve never does what you ask, Paul,” remarked Cicely.</p> + +<p>“Do I ask so often?”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would ask her oftener.”</p> + +<p>“To be refused oftener?”</p> + +<p>“To gain your point—to conquer her. She is too self-willed—for a +woman.” She looked at Paul with a smile.<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a></p> + +<p>The tie between them had become very close, and it was really her +dislike to see him rebuffed, even in the smallest thing, that made her +say, alluding to Eve, “Conquer her; she is too self-willed—for a +woman.”</p> + +<p>Paul smiled. “I shall never conquer her.”</p> + +<p>“Try, begin now; make her think that you <i>want</i> her to walk with you.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you pretend?”</p> + +<p>“Why should I?”</p> + +<p>“Well, to please me.”</p> + +<p>“You’re an immoral little woman,” said Paul, laughing. “I’ll go; +remember, however, that you sent me.” He went up the beach to meet Eve, +who was still walking to and fro, singing to Jack, Hollis accompanying +them after his fashion; that is, following behind, and stopping to skip +a stone carelessly when they stopped. Paul went straight to Eve. “I wish +you would go with me for a walk,” he said. He looked at her, his glance, +holding hers, slowly became entreating. The silence between them lasted +an appreciable instant.</p> + +<p>“I will go,” said Eve.</p> + +<p>Jack seemed to understand that his supremacy was in danger. “No, old +Eve—no. I want old Eve, Uncly Paul,” he said, in his most persuasive +voice. Then, to make himself irresistible, he began singing Eve’s song:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;"><i>”‘Who pums idder, all booted an’ spurred?</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Little Jacky Bruce wiz his han’ on his sword.’”</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Hollis came up. “Were you wanting to go off somewhere? I’ll take Jack.”</p> + +<p>“Old man, <i>you</i> get out,” suggested Jack, calmly.<a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a></p> + +<p>“Oh, where does he learn such things?” said Eve. She thought she was +distressed—she meant to be; but there was an undertide of joyousness, +which Hollis saw.</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, Jackum, I’ll get in,” he answered. “If it’s singing +you want, I can sing very beautifully. And I can dance too; looker +here.” And skipping across the beach in a Fisher’s Horn-pipe step, he +ended with a pigeon’s wing.</p> + +<p>Jack, in an ecstasy of delight, sprang up and down in Eve’s arms. +“’Gain! ’gain!” he cried, imperiously, his dimpled forefinger pointed at +the dancer.</p> + +<p>Again Hollis executed his high leap. “Now you’ll come to me, I guess,” +he said. And Jack went readily. “You are going for a walk, I suppose?” +Hollis went on. “There’s nothing very much in these woods to make it +lively.” He had noted the glow of anticipation in her face, and was glad +that he had contributed to it. But when he turned to Paul, expecting as +usual to see indifference, he did not see it; and instantly his feelings +changed, he felt befooled.</p> + +<p>Jack made prodding motions with his knees. “Dant! dant!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll dance in a few minutes, my boy,” said Hollis.</p> + +<p>Paul and Eve went up the beach and turned into the wood. It was a +magnificent evergreen forest without underbrush; above, the sunlight was +shut out, they walked in a gray-green twilight. The stillness was so +intense that it was oppressive.<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX.</h2> + +<p>T<small>HEY</small> walked for some distance without speaking. “I have just been +writing to Ferdie,” Paul said at last.</p> + +<p>The gray-green wood had seemed to Eve like another world, an enchanted +land. Now she was forced back to real life again. “Oh, if he would only +say nothing—just go on without speaking; it’s all I ask,” she thought.</p> + +<p>“I shall go down there in ten days or so,” Paul went on. “Ferdie will be +up then—in all probability well. I shall take him to Charleston, and +from there we shall sail.”</p> + +<p>“Sail?”</p> + +<p>“To Norway.”</p> + +<p>“Norway?”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t I tell you?—I have made up my mind that a long voyage in a +sailing vessel will be the best thing for him just now.”</p> + +<p>“And you go too?”</p> + +<p>“Of course.”</p> + +<p>“Four or five weeks, perhaps?”</p> + +<p>“Four or five months; as it grows colder, we can come down to the +Mediterranean.”</p> + +<p>A chill crept slowly over Eve. “Was it—wasn’t it difficult to arrange +for so long an absence?”</p> + +<p>“As Hollis would phrase it, ‘You bet it was!’” answered Paul, laughing. +“I shall come back without a cent in either pocket; but I’ve been +centless before—I’m not terrified.”<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a></p> + +<p>“If you would only take some of mine!”</p> + +<p>“You will have Cicely. We shall both have our hands full.”</p> + +<p>She looked up at him more happily; they were to be associated together +in one way, then, after all. But a vision followed, a realization of the +blankness that was to come. Less than two weeks and he would be gone!</p> + +<p>“When the journey is over, shall you bring Ferdie to Port aux Pins?”</p> + +<p>“That depends. On the whole, I think not; Ferdie would hate the place; +it’s comical what tastes he has—that boy! My idea is that he will do +better in South America; he has already made a beginning there, and +likes the life. This time he can take Cicely with him, and that will +steady him; he will go to housekeeping, he will be a family man.” And +Paul smiled; to him, Ferdie was still the lad of fifteen years before.</p> + +<p>But in Eve’s mind rose a recollection of the light of a candle far down +a narrow road. “Oh, don’t let her go with him! Don’t!”</p> + +<p>Paul stopped. “You are sometimes so frightened, I have noticed that. And +yet you are no coward. What happened—really? What did you do?”</p> + +<p>She could not speak.</p> + +<p>“I’m a brute to bother you about it,” Paul went on. “But I have always +felt sure that you did more that night than you have ever acknowledged; +Cicely couldn’t tell us, you see, because she had fainted. How strange +you look! Are you ill?”</p> + +<p>“It is nothing. Let us walk on.”</p> + +<p>“As you please.”</p> + +<p>“If they go to South America, why shouldn’t you<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a> go with them?” he said, +after a while, returning to his first topic. “You will have to go if you +want to keep a hold on Jack, for Cicely will never give him up to you +for good and all, as you have hoped. If you were with them, <i>I</i> should +feel a great deal safer.”</p> + +<p>Well, that was something. Was this, then, to be her occupation for the +future—by a watch over Ferdie, to make his brother more comfortable? +She tried to give a sarcastic turn to this idea. But again the feeling +swept over her: Oh, if it had only been any one but Ferdinand +Morrison!—Ferdinand Morrison!</p> + +<p>“How you shuddered!” said Paul. Walking beside her, he had felt her +tremble. “You certainly are ill.”</p> + +<p>“No. But don’t let us talk of any of those things to-day, let us forget +them.”</p> + +<p>“How can we?”</p> + +<p>“<i>I</i> can!” The color rose suddenly in her cheeks; for the moment she was +beautiful. “My last walk with him! When he is gone, the days will be a +blank.”</p> + +<p>—“It is my last walk with you!” she said aloud, pursuing the current of +her thoughts.</p> + +<p>He looked at her askance.</p> + +<p>His glance brought her back to reality. She turned and left him; she +walked rapidly towards the lake, coming out on the beach beyond Eagle +Point.</p> + +<p>He followed her, and, as he came up, his eyes took possession of and +held hers, as they had done before; then, after a moment, he put his arm +round her, drew her to him, and bent his face to hers.</p> + +<p>She tried to spring from him. But he still held her. “What shall I say +to excuse myself, Eve?”<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a></p> + +<p>The tones of his voice were very sweet. But he was smiling a little too. +She saw it; she broke from his grasp.</p> + +<p>“You look as though you could kill me!” he said.</p> + +<p>(And she did look so.)</p> + +<p>“Forgive me,” he went on; “tell me you don’t mind.”</p> + +<p>“I should have thought—that what I confessed to you—you know, that +day—</p> + +<p>But there were no subtleties in Paul. “Why, that was the very reason,” +he answered. “What did you tell me for, if you didn’t want me to think +of it?” Then he took a lighter tone. “Come, forget it. It was +nothing.—What’s one kiss?”</p> + +<p>Eve colored deeply.</p> + +<p>And then, suddenly, Paul Tennant colored too.</p> + +<p>He turned his head away, and his glance, resting on the water, was +stopped by something—a dark object floating. He put up a hand on each +side of his face and looked more steadily. “Yes. No. <i>Yes!</i> There’s a +<i>woman</i> out there—lashed to something. I must go out and see.” He had +thrown his hat down upon the sand as he spoke; he was hastily taking off +his coat and waistcoat, his shoes and stockings; then he waded out +rapidly, and when the rock shelved off, he began to swim.</p> + +<p>Eve stood watching him mechanically. “He has already forgotten it!”</p> + +<p>Paul reached the dark object. Then, after a short delay, she could see +that he was trying to bring it in.</p> + +<p>But his progress was slow.</p> + +<p>“Oh, there must be something the matter! Perhaps a cramp has seized +him.” A terrible impatience<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a> took possession of her; it was impossible +for him to hear her, yet she cried to him at the top of her voice, and +fiercely: “Let it go! Let it go, I say! Come in alone. Who cares for it, +whatever it is?” It was not until his burden lay on the beach that she +could turn her mind from him in the least, or think of what he had +brought.</p> + +<p>The burden was a girl of ten, a fair child with golden curls, now heavy +with water; her face was calm, the eyes peacefully closed. She had been +lashed to a plank by somebody’s hand—whose? Her father’s? Or had it +been done by a sobbing mother, praying, while she worked, that she and +her little daughter might meet again.</p> + +<p>“It’s dreadful, when they’re so young,” said big Paul, bending over the +body reverently to loosen the ropes. He finished his task, and +straightened himself. “A collision or a fire. If it was a fire, they +must have seen it from Jupiter Light.” He scanned the lake. “Perhaps +there are others who are not dead; I must have one of the canoes at +once. I’ll go by the beach. You had better follow me.” He put on his +shoes, and, dripping as he was, he was off again like a flash, running +towards the west at a vigorous speed.</p> + +<p>Eve watched him until he was out of sight. Then she sat down beside the +little girl and began to dry her pretty curls, one by one, with her +handkerchief. Even then she kept thinking, “He has forgotten it!”</p> + +<p>By-and-by—it seemed to her a long time—she saw a canoe coming round +the point. It held but one person—Paul. He paddled rapidly towards her. +“Why didn’t you follow me, as I told you to?” he said, almost angrily. +“Hollis has gone back to the<a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a> camp for more canoes and the Indians; he +took Cicely, and he ought to have taken you.”</p> + +<p>“I wanted to stay here.”</p> + +<p>“You will be in the way; drowned people are not always a pleasant sight. +Sit where you are, then, since you are here; if I come across anything, +I’ll row in at a distance from you.”</p> + +<p>He paddled off again.</p> + +<p>But before very long she saw him returning. “Are you really not afraid?” +he asked, as his canoe grated on the beach.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“There’s some one out there. But I find I can’t lift anything into this +canoe alone—it’s so tottlish; I could swim and tow, though, if I had +the canoe as a help. Can you paddle?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Get in, then.” He stepped out of the boat, and she took his place. He +pushed it off and waded beside her until the water came to his chin; +then he began to swim, directing her course by a movement of his head. +She used her paddle very cautiously, now on one side, now on the other, +the whole force of her attention bent upon keeping the little craft +steady. After a while, chancing to raise her eyes, she saw something +dark ahead. Fear seized her, she could not look at it; she felt faint. +At the same moment, Paul left her, swimming towards the floating thing. +With a determined effort at self-control, she succeeded in turning the +canoe, and waited steadily until Paul gave the sign. Keeping her eyes +carefully away from that side, she then started back towards the shore, +Paul convoying his floating freight a little behind her. As they +approached the beach,<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a> he made a motion signifying that she should take +the canoe farther down; when she was safely at a distance, he brought +his tow ashore. It was the body of a sailor. The fragment of deck +planking to which he was tied had one end charred; this told the +dreadful tale—fire at sea.</p> + +<p>The sailor was dead, though it was some time before Paul would +acknowledge it. At length he desisted from his efforts. He came down the +beach to Eve, wiping his forehead with his wet sleeve. “No use, he’s +dead. I am going out again.”</p> + +<p>“I will go with you, then.”</p> + +<p>“If you are not too tired?”</p> + +<p>They went out a second time. They saw another dark object half under +water. Again the sick feeling seized her; but she turned the canoe +safely, and they came in with their load. This time, when he dismissed +her, she went back to the little girl, and, landing, sat down; she was +very tired.</p> + +<p>After a while she heard sounds—four canoes coming rapidly round the +point, the Indians using their utmost speed. She rose; Hollis, who was +in the first canoe, saw her, and directed his course towards her. “Why +did you stay here?” he demanded, sternly, as he saw the desolate little +figure of the child.</p> + +<p>Eve began to excuse herself. “I was of use before you came; I went out; +I helped.”</p> + +<p>“Paul shouldn’t have asked you.”</p> + +<p>“He had to; he couldn’t do it alone.”</p> + +<p>“He shouldn’t have asked you.” He went off to Paul, and she sat down +again; she took up her task of drying the golden curls. After a while +the sound of voices ceased, and she knew that they had all gone<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a> out on +the lake for further search. She went on with what she was doing; but +presently, in the stillness, she began to feel that she must turn and +look; she was haunted by the idea that one of the men who had been +supposed to be dead was stealing up noiselessly to look over her +shoulder. She turned. And then she saw Hollis sitting not far away.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am so glad you are there!”</p> + +<p>Hollis rose and came nearer, seating himself again quietly. “I thought I +wouldn’t leave you all alone.”</p> + +<p>She scanned the water. The five canoes were clustered together far out; +presently, still together, they moved in towards the shore.</p> + +<p>“They are bringing in some one else!”</p> + +<p>“Sha’n’t we go farther away?” suggested Hollis—“farther towards the +point? I’ll go with you.”</p> + +<p>“No, I shall stay with this little girl; I do not intend to leave her. +You won’t understand this, of course; only a woman would understand it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I understand,” said Hollis.</p> + +<p>But Eve ignored him. “The canoes are keeping all together in a way they +haven’t done before. Do you think—oh, it must be that they have got +some one who is <i>living!</i>”</p> + +<p>“It’s possible.”</p> + +<p>“They are holding something up so carefully.” She sprang to her feet. “I +am sure I saw it move! Paul has really saved somebody. How <i>can</i> you sit +there, Mr. Hollis? Go and find out!”</p> + +<p>Hollis went. In twenty minutes he came back.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Eve, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, there’s a chance for this one; he’ll come round, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Paul has saved him.”<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a></p> + +<p>“I don’t know that he’s much worth the saving; he looks a regular +scalawag.”</p> + +<p>“How can you say that—a human life!”</p> + +<p>Hollis looked down at the sand, abashed.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t I go over there for a moment?” Eve said, still excitedly +watching the distant group.</p> + +<p>“Better not.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me just how Paul did it, then?” she asked. “For of course it was +he, the Indians don’t know anything.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t say how exactly. He brought him in.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t he wonderful!”</p> + +<p>“I have always thought him the cleverest fellow I have ever known,” +responded poor Hollis, stoutly.</p> + +<p>The next day the little girl, freshly robed and fair, was laid to rest +in the small forest burying-ground belonging to Jupiter Light; Eve had +not left her. There were thirty new mounds there before the record was +finished.</p> + +<p>“Steamer <i>Mayhew</i> burned, Tuesday night, ten miles east Jupiter Light, +Lake Superior. Fifteen persons known to be saved. <i>Mayhew</i> carried +twenty cabin passengers and thirty-five emigrants. Total loss.” +(Associated Press despatch.)</p> + +<p>Soon after this the camp was abandoned; as Paul was to go south so soon, +he could not give any more time to forest-life, and they all, therefore, +returned to Port aux Pins together. Once there Paul seemed to have no +thought for anything but his business affairs. And Eve, in her heart, +said again, “He has forgotten!”<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX.</h2> + +<p>F<small>OURTH OF</small> J<small>ULY</small> at Port aux Pins; a brilliant morning with the warm sun +tempering the cool air, and shining on the pure cold blue of the lake.</p> + +<p>At ten o’clock, the cannon began to boom; the guns were planted at the +ends of the piers, and the men of the Port aux Pins Light Artillery held +themselves erect, trying to appear unconscious of the presence of the +whole town behind them, eating peanuts, and criticising.</p> + +<p>The salute over, the piers were deserted, the procession was formed. The +following was the order as printed in the Port aux Pins <i>Eagle:</i></p> + +<div class="block"> +<p class="c">“The Marshal of the Day.<br /> +The Goddess of Liberty. (Parthenia Drone.)<br /> +The Clergy. (In carriages.)<br /> +Fire-Engine E. P. Snow.<br /> +The Mayor and Common Council. (In carriages.) +Hook and Ladder No. 1.<br /> +The Immortal Colonies. (Thirteen little girls in a wagon, +singing the ‘Red, White, and Blue.’)<br /> +Fire-Engine Leander Braddock.</p> + +<p>The Carnival of Venice. (This was a tableau. It represented +the facade of a Venetian palace, skilfully constructed +upon the model of the Parthenon, with Wolf Roth in an Indian +canoe below, playing upon his guitar. Wolf was attired, +as a Venetian, in a turban, a spangled jacket, high cavalry +boots with spurs, and powdered hair; Idora Drone looked +down upon him from a Venetian balcony; she represented a +Muse.)</p> + +<p class="c">Reader of the Declaration of Independence, and Orator of +the Day. (In carriages.)<br /> +The Survivors of the War. (On foot with banners.)<br /> +Model of Monument to Our Fallen Heroes.<br /> +The Band. (Playing ‘The Sweet By-and-By.’)<br /> +Widows of Our Fallen Heroes. (In carriages.)<br /> +Fire-Engine Senator M. P. Hagen.</p> + +<p>The Arts and Sciences. (Represented by the portable +printing-press of the Port aux Pins <i>Eagle</i>; wagons from the +mines loaded with iron ore; and the drays, coal-carts, and +milk-wagons in a procession, adorned with streamers of pink +tarlatan).”</p> +</div> + +<p>Cicely watched the procession from the windows of Paul’s office, +laughing constantly. When Hollis passed, sitting stiffly erect in his +carriage—he was the “Reader of the Declaration of Independence”—she +threw a bouquet at him, and compelled him to bow; Hollis was adorned +with a broad scarf of white satin, fastened on the right shoulder with +the national colors.</p> + +<p>“I am going to the public square to hear him read,” Cicely announced, +suddenly. “Paul, you must take me. And you must go too, grandpa.”</p> + +<p>“I will keep out of the rabble, I think,” said the judge.</p> + +<p>“Oh, come on; I dare say you have never heard the thing read through in +your life,” suggested Paul, laughing.</p> + +<p>“The Declaration of Independence? My grandfather, sir, was a signer!”</p> + +<p>The one church bell (Baptist) and the two little fire bells were +jangling merrily when they reached the street. People were hurrying +towards the square; many of them were delegates from neighboring towns +who had accompanied their fire-engines to Port aux Pins on this, the +nation’s birthday. White dresses were abundant; the favorite refreshment +was a lemon partially scooped out, the hollow filled with<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a> lemon candy. +When they reached the square Paul established Cicely on the top of a +fence, standing behind to steady her; and presently the procession +appeared, wheeling slowly in, and falling into position in a half-circle +before the main stand, the gayly decorated fire-engines in front, with +the Carnival of Venice and the Goddess of Liberty, one at each end. The +clergy, the mayor and common council, the orator of the day, were +escorted to their places on the stand, and the ceremonies opened. +By-and-by came the turn of Hollis. In a high voice he began:</p> + +<p>“When in the <i>course</i>—of human <i>events</i>, it becomes necessary for one +people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with +<i>another</i>—”</p> + +<p>“Cheer!” whispered Cicely to Paul.</p> + +<p>Paul, entering into it, set up hurrahs with so much vigor that all the +people near him joined in patriotically, to the confusion of the reader, +who went on, however, as well as he could:</p> + +<p>“We hold these <i>truths</i>—to be self-<i>evident</i>, that all men are created +<i>equal</i>—”</p> + +<p>“Again,” murmured Cicely.</p> + +<p>And again Paul’s corner burst forth irrepressibly, followed after a +moment by the entire assemblage, glad to be doing something in a vocal +way on their own account, and determined to have their money’s worth of +everything, noise and all.</p> + +<p>And so, from “the present king of Great Britain” to “our lives, our +forrchuns, and our sacrred <i>honor</i>” on it went, a chorus of hurrahs +growing louder and louder until they became roars.</p> + +<p>“I knew it was you,” Hollis said to Paul, when, later, his official +duties over, and his satin scarf removed, he appeared at the cottage to +talk it over.<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a></p> + +<p>“But say, did you notice the widows of our fallen heroes? They had a +sort of glare under their crape. You see, once we had eight of ’em, but +this year there is only one left; all the rest have married again. Now +it happens that this very year the Soldiers’ Monument is done at last, +and naturally the committee wanted the widows to ride in the procession. +The one widow who was left declared that she would not ride all alone; +she said it would look as though no one had asked her, whereas she had +had at least three good offers. So the committee went to the others and +asked them to dress up as former widows, just for to-day. So they did; +and lots of people cried when they came along, two and two, all in +black, so pathetic.” He sprang up to greet Eve, who was entering, and +the foot-board entangled itself with his feet, after the peculiarly +insidious fashion of extension-chairs. “Instrument of torture!” he said, +grinning.</p> + +<p>“I will leave it to you in my will,” declared Paul. “And it is just as +well to say it now, before witnesses, because I am going away +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow!” said Cicely.</p> + +<p>“Only to Lakeville on business. I shall be back the day before I start +south.”</p> + +<p>“There go the last few hours!” thought Eve.</p> + +<p>The third evening after, Hollis came up the path to Paul’s door. The +judge, Eve, Cicely, and Porley with Jack, were sitting on the steps, +after the Port aux Pins fashion. They had all been using their best +blandishments to induce Master Jack to go to bed; but that young +gentleman refused; he played patty-cake steadily with Porley, looking at +the others out of the corner of his eye; and if Porley made the<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a> least +attempt to rise, he set up loud bewailings, with his face screwed, but +without a tear. It was suspected that these were pure artifice; and not +one of his worshippers could help admiring his sagacity. They altogether +refrained from punishing it.</p> + +<p>“I was at the post-office, so I thought I’d just inquire for you,” said +Hollis. “There was only one letter; it’s for Miss Bruce.”</p> + +<p>Eve took the letter and put it in her pocket. She had recognized the +handwriting instantly.</p> + +<p>Hollis, who also knew the handwriting, began to praise himself in his +own mind as rapidly as he could for bringing it. “It was a good thing to +do, and a kind thing; you must manage jobs like that for her often, C. +Hollis. Then you’ll be sure that you ain’t, yourself, a plumb fool. She +doesn’t open it? Of course she doesn’t. Sit down, and stop your jawing!”</p> + +<p>Eve did not open her letter until she reached her own room. It was +eleven o’clock; when she was safely behind her bolted door, she took it +from its envelope and read it. She read it and re-read it; holding it in +her hand, she pondered over it. She was standing by the mantelpiece +because her lamp was there. After a while she became half conscious that +the soles of her feet were aching; she bore it some time longer, still +half consciously. When it was one o’clock she sat down. The letter was +as follows:</p> + +<div class="block"><p>"D<small>EAR</small> E<small>VE</small>,—Now that I am away from her, I can see that Cicely is +not so well as we have thought. All that laughing yesterday morning +wasn’t natural; I am afraid that she will break down completely +when I start south. So I write to suggest that you take her off for +a trip of ten days or so;<a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a> you might go to St. Paul. Then she +needn’t see me at all, and it really would be better.</p> + +<p>“As to seeing you again—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 0em;">“Yours sincerely,</span> <span style="margin-left: 4em;">P<small>AUL</small> T<small>ENNANT</small>.”</span></p></div> + +<p>“Why did he write, ‘As to seeing you again,’ and then stop? What was it +that he had intended to say, and why did he leave it unfinished? ‘As to +seeing you again—’ Supposing it had been, ‘As to seeing you again, I +dread it!’ But no, he would never say that; he doesn’t dread +anything—me least of all! Probably it was only, ‘As to seeing you +again, there would be nothing gained by it; it would be for such a short +time.’”</p> + +<p>But imagination soon took flight anew. “Possibly, remembering that day +in the wood, he was going to write, ‘As to seeing you again, do you wish +to see me? Is it really true that you care for me a little? It was so +brave to tell it! A petty spirit could never have done it.’ But no, that +is not what he would have thought; he likes the other kind of +women—those who do not tell.” She laid her head down upon her arms.</p> + +<p>Presently she began again: “He had certainly intended to write something +which he found himself unable to finish; the broken sentence tells that. +What could it have been? Any ordinary sentence, like, ‘As to seeing you +again, it is not necessary, as you know already my plans,’—if it had +been anything like that, he <i>would</i> have finished it; it would have been +easy to do so. No; it was something different. Oh, if it could only have +been, ‘As to seeing you again, I <i>must</i> see you, it must be managed in +some way; I cannot go without a leave-taking!’” She sat up; her eyes +were now radiant and sweet.<a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a> Their glance happened to fall upon her +watch, which was lying, case open, upon the table. Four o’clock. “I have +sat here all night! I am losing my wits.” She undressed rapidly, +angrily. Clad in white, she stood brushing her hair, her supple figure +taking, all unconsciously, enchanting postures as she now held a long +lock at arm’s-length, and now, putting her right hand over her shoulder, +brushed out the golden mass that fell from the back of her head to her +knees. “But he must have intended to write something unusual, even if +not of any of the things I have been thinking of; then he changed his +mind. That is the only solution of his leaving it unfinished—the only +possible solution.” This thought still filled her heart when daylight +came.</p> + +<p>The evening before, sitting in the bar-room of the Star Hotel, +Lakeville, Paul had written his letter. He had got as far as, “Then she +needn’t see me at all, and it really would be better. As to seeing you +again,” when a voice said, “Hello, Tennant!—busy?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing important,” replied Paul, pushing back the sheet of paper.</p> + +<p>The visitor shook hands; then he seated himself, astride, on one of the +bar-room chairs, facing the wooden back, which he hugged tightly. He had +come to talk about Paul’s Clay County iron; he had one or two ideas +about it which he thought might come to something.</p> + +<p>Paul, too, thought that they might come to something when he heard what +they were. He was excited; he began to jot down figures on the envelope +which he had intended for Eve. Finally he and the new-comer went out +together; before going he put the letter in his pocket.<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a></p> + +<p>When he came in, it was late. “First mail to Port aux Pins?” he +inquired.</p> + +<p>“Five o’clock to-morrow morning,” replied the drowsy waiter.</p> + +<p>“Must finish it to-night, then,” he thought. He took out the crumpled +sheet, and, opening it, read through what he had written. “What was it I +was going to add?” He tried to recall the train of thought. But he was +sleepy (as Hollis said, Paul had a genius for sleep); besides, his mind +was occupied by the new business plan. “I haven’t the slightest idea +what I was going to say.—A clear profit of fifty thousand in four +years; that isn’t bad. Ferdie will need a good deal. Ye-ough!” (a yawn). +“What <i>was</i> it I was going to say?—I can’t imagine. Well, it couldn’t +have been important, in any case. I’ll just sign it, and let it go.” So +he wrote, “Yours sincerely, Paul Tennant;” and went to bed.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI.</h2> + +<p>P<small>AUL</small> came back to Port aux Pins five days before the time of his +departure for the South. Cicely was still there. She had refused to go +to St. Paul. “The only Paul I care for is the one here. What an i-dea, +Eve, that I should choose just this moment for a trip! It looks as +though you were trying to keep me away from him.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not trying; it’s Paul,” Eve might have answered.</p> + +<p>“It must be curious to be such a cold sort of person as you are,” Cicely +went on, looking at her. “You have only one feeling that ever gives you +any trouble, haven’t you? That’s anger.”<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a></p> + +<p>“I am never angry with you,” Eve answered, with the humility which she +always showed when Cicely made her cutting little speeches.</p> + +<p>Paul had been right. As the time of his departure for Romney drew near, +Cicely grew restless. She was seized with fits of wild weeping. At last, +when there were only two days left, Paul proposed a drive—anything to +change, even if only upon the surface, the current of her thoughts. “We +will go to Betsy Lake, and pay a visit to the antiquities.”</p> + +<p>The mine at Betsy Lake—the Lac aux Becs-Scies of the early Jesuit +explorers—had been abandoned. Recently traces of work there in +prehistoric times had been discovered, with primitive tools which +excited interest in the minds of antiquarians. The citizens of Port aux +Pins were not antiquarians; they said “Mound Builders;” and troubled +themselves no more about it.</p> + +<p>“We had better spend the night at the butter-woman’s,” Paul suggested. +“It is too far for one day.”</p> + +<p>Eve did not go with the party. They had started at three o’clock, +intending to visit a hill from which there was an extensive view, before +going on to the butter-woman’s farm-house. At four she herself went out +for a solitary walk.</p> + +<p>As she was passing a group of wretched shanties, beyond the outskirts of +the town, a frightened woman came out of one of them, calling loudly, +“Mrs. Halley! oh, Mrs. <i>Halley</i>, your <i>Lyddy is dying!</i>”</p> + +<p>A second woman, who was hanging out clothes, dropped the garment she had +in her hand and ran within; Eve followed her. A young girl, who appeared +to be in a spasm, occupied the one bed, a<a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a> poor one; the mother rushed +to her. In a few minutes the danger was over, and the girl fell into a +heavy sleep.</p> + +<p>“That Mrs. Sullivan—she’s too sprightly,” said Mrs. Halley, after she +had dismissed her frightened neighbor. “I just invited her to sit here +<i>trenquilly</i> while I put out me clothes, when lo! she begins and screams +like mad. She’s had no education, that’s plain. There’s nothing the +matter with my Lyddy except that she’s delicate, and as soon as she’s a +little better I’m going to have her take music lessons on the peanner.”</p> + +<p>Eve looked at Mrs. Halley’s ragged, wet dress, and at the wan, pinched +face of the sleeping girl. “It is a pity you have to leave her,” she +said. “Couldn’t you get somebody to do your washing?”</p> + +<p>“I take in washing, miss; I’m a lady-laundress. Only the best; I never +wash for the boats.”</p> + +<p>“How much do you earn a week?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, a tidy sum,” answered Mrs. Halley. Then, seeing that Eve had taken +out her purse, her misery overcame her pride, and she burst forth, +suddenly: “<i>Never</i> more than three dollars, miss, with me slaving from +morning to night. And I’ve five children besides poor Lyddy there.”</p> + +<p>Eve gave her a five-dollar bill.</p> + +<p>“Oh, may the Lord bless you!” she began to cry. “And me with me skirt +all wet, and the house not clean, when the chariot of the Lord descended +upon me!” She sank into a chair, her toil-worn hands over her face, her +tired back bent forward, relaxed at last, and resting.</p> + +<p>Eve pursued her investigations; she sent a boy to town for provisions, +and waited to see a meal prepared.<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a> Mrs. Halley, still wet and ragged, +but now refreshed by joy, moved about rapidly; at last there was nothing +more to do but to sit down and wait. “She was the prettiest of all my +children,” she remarked, indicating the sleeping girl with a motion of +her head.</p> + +<p>“She is still pretty,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“Yet you never saw <i>her</i> making eyes at gentlemen like some; there’s a +great deal of making eyes at Potterpins. Rose Bonham, now—she got a +silk dress out of Mr. Tennant no longer ago as last March.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tennant?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; the gentleman who superintends the mine. Not that I have anything +to say against him; gentlemen has their priviluges. All I say +is—<i>girls</i> hasn’t!”</p> + +<p>Eve had risen. “I must go; I will come again soon.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, miss,” said the woman, dropping her gossip, and returning to her +gratitude (which was genuine)—“oh, miss, mayn’t I know your name? I +want to put it in me prayers. There was just three cents in the house, +miss, when you came; and Lyddy she couldn’t eat the last meal I got for +her—a cracker and a piece of mackerel.”</p> + +<p>“You can pray for me without a name,” said Eve, going out.</p> + +<p>She felt as though there were hot coals in her throat, she could +scarcely breathe. She went towards the forest, and, entering it by a +cart-track, walked rapidly on. Rose Bonham was the daughter of the +butter-woman. Bonham had a forest farm about five miles from Port aux +Pins on the road to Betsy<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a> Lake, and his wife kept Paul’s cottage +supplied with butter. Eve had seen the daughter several times; she was a +very beautiful girl. Eve and Cicely thought her bold; but the women who +eat the butter are apt to think so of those who bring it, if the +bringers have sparkling eyes, peach-like complexions, and the gait of +Hebe.</p> + +<p>And Paul himself had suggested the spending the night there—an entirely +unnecessary thing—under the pretence of gaining thereby an earlier +start in the morning.</p> + +<p>She came to a little pool of clear water; pausing beside it, half +unconsciously, she beheld the reflection of her face in its mirror, and +something seemed to say to her, “What is your education, your culture, +your senseless pride worth, when compared with the peach-like bloom of +that young girl?” Her own image looked up at her, pale, cold, and stern; +it did not seem to her to have a trace of beauty. She took a stone, and, +casting it in the pool, shattered the picture. “I wish I were beautiful +beyond words! I <i>could</i> be beautiful if I had everything; if nothing but +the finest lace ever touched me, if I never raised my hand to do +anything for myself, if I had only dainty and delicate and beautiful +things about me, I should be beautiful—I know I should. Bad women have +those things, they say; why haven’t they the best of it?”</p> + +<p>She began to walk on again. She had not given much thought to the +direction her steps were taking; now it came to her that the road to +Lake Betsy, and therefore to Bonham’s, was not far away, and she crossed +the wood towards it. When she reached it, she turned towards Bonham’s. +Five miles. It was now after five o’clock.<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a></p> + +<p>When she came in sight of the low roof and scattered out-buildings a +sudden realization of what she was doing came to her, and she stopped. +Why was she there? If they should see her, any of them, what would they +think? What could she say? As though they were already upon her, she +took refuge hastily behind the high bushes with which the road was +bordered. “Oh, what have I come here for? Humiliating! Let me get back +home!—let me get back home!” She returned towards Port aux Pins by the +fields, avoiding the road; the shadows were dense now; it was almost +night.</p> + +<p>She had gone more than a mile when she stopped. An irresistible force +impelled her, and she retraced her steps. When she reached Bonham’s the +second time, lights were shining from the windows. The roughly-built +house rose directly from the road. Blinds and curtains were evidently +considered superfluous. With breathless eagerness she drew near; the +evening was cool, and the windows were closed; through the small +wrinkled panes she could distinguish a wrinkled Cicely, a wrinkled +judge, a Hollis much askew, and a Paul Tennant with a dislocated jaw; +they were playing a game. After some moments she recognized that it was +whist; she almost laughed aloud, a bitter laugh at herself; she had +walked five miles to see a game of whist.</p> + +<p>A dog barked, she turned away and began her long journey homeward.</p> + +<p>But the thought came to her, and would not leave her. “After the game is +over, and the others have gone to bed, he will see that girl somehow!”</p> + +<p>She did not find the road a long one. Passion made it short, a passion +of jealous despair.<a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a></p> + +<p>Reaching the town at last, she passed an ephemeral ice-cream saloon with +a large window; seated within, accompanied by a Port aux Pins youth of +the hobbledehoy species, was Rose Bonham, eating ice-cream.</p> + +<p>The next evening at six the excursion party returned. At seven they were +seated at the tea-table. The little door-bell jangled loudly in the near +hall, there was a sound of voices; Paul, who was nearest the door, rose +and went to see what it was.</p> + +<p>After a long delay he came back and looked in. They had all left the +table, and Cicely had gone to her room; Paul beckoned Eve out silently. +His face had a look that made her heart stop beating; in the narrow +hall, under the small lamp, he gave her, one by one, three telegraphic +despatches, open.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" +style="border:none;"> +<tr><td align="left"><i>The first:</i></td><td align="right">“<i>Monday.</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">“Break it to Cicely.</td><td>Dear Ferdie died at dawn.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right">“S<small>ABRINA</small> A<small>BERCROMBIE</small>.”</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><i>The second:</i></td><td align="right"><i>“Monday.</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">“Morrison died this morning.</td><td>Telegraph your wishes.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right">“E<small>DWARD</small> K<small>NOX</small>, M.D.”</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><i>The third:</i></td><td align="right"><i>“Wednesday.</i></td></tr> +<tr valign="top"><td align="left">“Morrison buried this afternoon. </td><td align="left">Address me, Charleston Hotel,<br /> Charleston.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right">“E<small>DWARD</small> K<small>NOX</small>, M.D.”</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>“I ought to have had them two days ago,” said Paul. He stood with his +lips slightly apart looking at her, but without seeing her or seeing +anything.<a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII.</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“Up the airy mountain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Down the rushy glen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">We daren’t go a-hunting,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For fear of little men:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Wee folk, good folk,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Trooping all together;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Green jacket, red cap,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And white owl’s feather!”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>S<small>O</small>, in a sweet little thread of a voice, sang Cicely; her tones, though +clear, were so faint that they seemed to come from far away. She was +sitting in an easy-chair, with pillows behind her, her hands laid on the +arms of the chair, her feet on a footstool. Her eyes wandered over the +opposite wall, and presently she began again, beating time with her hand +on the arm of the chair:</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“Down along the rocky shore</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some make their home;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">They live on crispy pancakes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of yellow tide foam;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">Some in the reeds</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of the black mountain lake,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">With frogs for their watch-dogs,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All night awake—awake.”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>The judge left the room. He walked on tiptoe; but he might have worn +hobnailed shoes, and made all the noise possible—Cicely would not have +noticed it. “I can’t stand it!” he said to Paul, outside.</p> + +<p>“How it must feel—to be as stiff and old as that!”<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a> was the thought +that passed through the younger man’s mind. For the judge’s features +were no longer able to express the sorrows that lay beneath; even while +speaking his despair his face remained immovable, like a mask.</p> + +<p>“But it’s merciful, after all,” Paul had answered, aloud.</p> + +<p>“Merciful?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Come to my room and I’ll tell you why.”</p> + +<p>Straw was laid down before Paul’s cottage. Within, all was absolutely +quiet; even little Jack had been sent away. He had been sent to Hollis, +who was taking care of him so elaborately, with so many ingenious +devices for his entertainment, that Porley was wildly idle; there was +nothing for her to do.</p> + +<p>Standing beside the white-pine table in Paul’s bare bedroom, the two men +held their conference. Paul’s explanation lasted three minutes. “Ferdie +was entangled with her long before he ever saw Cicely,” he concluded, +“and he always liked her; that was her hold upon him—he liked her, and +she knew it; he didn’t drop her even after he was married.”</p> + +<p>From the rigid old face there came a hot imprecation.</p> + +<p>“Let him alone—will you?—now he’s dead,” suggested Paul, curtly. “I +don’t suppose that you yourself have been so immaculate all your life +that you can afford to set up as a pattern?”</p> + +<p>“But my wife, sir—Nothing ever touched her.”</p> + +<p>“You mean that you arranged things so that she shouldn’t know. All +decent men do that, I suppose, and Ferdie didn’t in the least intend +that Cicely should know, either. He told her to stay here; if<a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a> she had +persisted in going down there against his wish, and against his +arrangements also, fancy what she would have put her head into! I +couldn’t let her do that, of course. But though I told her enough to +give her some clew, she hadn’t the least suspicion of the whole truth, +and now she need never know.”</p> + +<p>“She won’t have time, she’s dying,” answered the grandfather.</p> + +<p>Cicely’s state was alarming. A violent attack of brain-fever had been +followed by the present condition of comparative quiet; she recognized +no one; much of the time she sang to herself gayly. The doctor feared +that the paroxysms would return. They had been terrible to witness; Paul +had held her, and he had exerted all the force of his strong arms to +keep her from injuring herself, her fragile little form had thrown +itself about so wildly, like a bird beating its life out against the +bars of its cage.</p> + +<p>No one in this desolate cottage had time to think of the accumulation of +troubles that had come upon them: the silence, broken only by Cicely’s +strange singing, the grief of Paul for his brother, the dumb despair of +the old man, the absence of little Jack, the near presence of Death. But +of the four faces, that of Eve expressed the deepest hopelessness. She +stayed constantly in the room where Cicely was, but she did nothing; +from the first she had not offered to help in any way, and the doctor, +seeing that she was to be of no use, had sent a nurse. On the fourth +day, Paul said: “You must have some sleep, Eve. Go to your room; I will +have you called if she grows worse.”</p> + +<p>“No; I must stay here.”<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a></p> + +<p>“Why? There is nothing for you to do.”</p> + +<p>“You mean that I do nothing. I know it; but I must stay.”</p> + +<p>On the seventh evening he spoke again; Cicely’s quiet state had now +lasted twenty-four hours. “Lying on a lounge is no good, Eve; to-night +you must go to bed. Otherwise we shall have you breaking down too.”</p> + +<p>“Do I look as though I should break down?”</p> + +<p>They had happened to meet in the hall outside of Cicely’s door; the +sunset light, coming through a small window, flooded the place with +gold.</p> + +<p>“If you put it in that way, I must say you do not.”</p> + +<p>“I knew it. I am very strong.”</p> + +<p>“You speak as though you regretted it.”</p> + +<p>“I do regret it.” She put out her hand to open the door.—“Don’t think +that I am trying to be sensational,” she pleaded.</p> + +<p>“All I think is that you are an obstinate girl; and one very much in +need of rest, too.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes filled, he had spoken as one speaks to a tired child; but she +turned her head so that he should not see her face, and left him, +entering Cicely’s room, and closing the door behind her; her manner and +the movement, as he saw them, were distinctly repellent.</p> + +<p>Cicely did not notice her entrance; the nurse, who had some knitting in +her hand in order not to appear too watchful, but who in reality saw the +rise and fall of her patient’s every breath, was near. Eve went to the +place where she often sat—a chair partially screened by the projection +of a large wardrobe; she could see only a towel-stand opposite, and the +ingrain<a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a> carpet, in ugly octagons of red and green, at her feet. The +silence was profound.</p> + +<p>“I am a murderer, it is a murderer who is sitting here. If people only +knew! But it is enough for <i>me</i> to know.</p> + +<p>—“They said he was getting better. Instead of that he is dead,—he is +dead, and I shot him; I lifted the pistol and fired. At the time it +didn’t seem wrong. But this is what it means to kill, I suppose;—this +awful agony.</p> + +<p>—“I have never been one of the afraid kind. I wish now that I had been; +then this wouldn’t have happened; the baby might have been horribly +hurt, Cicely too; but at least I shouldn’t have been a murderer. For if +you kill you <i>are</i> a murderer, no matter whether the person you kill is +good or bad, or what you do it for; you have killed some one, you have +made his life come to a sudden stop, and for that you must take the +responsibility.</p> + +<p>—“Oh, God! it is too dreadful! I cannot bear it. Sometimes, when I have +been unhappy, I have waked and found it was only a dream; couldn’t +<i>this</i> be a dream?</p> + +<p>—“I was really going to tell, I was going to tell Cicely. But I thought +I would wait until he was well—as every one said he would be soon—so +that she wouldn’t hate me quite so much. If she should die without +coming to her senses, I shouldn’t be able to tell her.</p> + +<p>—“Hypocrite! even to myself. In reality I don’t want her to come to her +senses; I have sat here for days, afraid to leave her, watching every +moment lest she should begin to talk rationally. For then I should have +to tell her; and she would tell Paul. Oh, I cannot have him know—I +<i>cannot.</i>”<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a></p> + +<p>Made stupid by her misery, she sat gazing at the floor, her eyes fixed, +her lips slightly apart.</p> + +<p>She was exhausted; for the same thoughts had besieged her ever since she +had read the despatch, “Morrison died this morning,”—an unending +repetition of exactly the same sentences, constantly following each +other, and constantly beginning again; even in sleep they continued, +like a long nightmare, so that she woke weeping. And now without a +moment’s respite, while she sat there with her eyes on the carpet, the +involuntary recital began anew: “I am a murderer, it is a murderer who +is sitting here. If people only knew!”</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“They may rail at this life; from the hour I began it</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">I’ve found it a life full of kindness and bliss;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">And until you can show me some happier planet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: .5em;">More social, more gay, I’ll content me with this,”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="nind">chanted Cicely, sweetly.</p> + +<p>“The song of last Christmas at Romney,” Eve’s thoughts went on. “Oh, how +changed I am since then—how changed! That night I thought only of my +brother. Now I have almost forgotten him;—Jack, do you care? All I +think of is Paul, Paul, Paul. How beautiful it was in that gray-green +wood! But what am I dreaming about? How can the person who killed his +brother be anything to him?</p> + +<p>—“Once he said—he told me himself—‘I care for Ferdie more than for +anything in the world.’ It’s Ferdie I have killed.</p> + +<p>—”‘Morrison buried this afternoon. Address me Charleston Hotel, +Charleston.’ He put those despatches in his pocket and went into the +back room.<a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a> He sat down by the table, and laid his head upon his arms. +His shoulders shook, I know he was crying, he was crying for his +brother. Oh, I will go down-stairs and tell him the whole; I will go +this moment.” She rose.</p> + +<p>On the stairs she met the judge. “Is she worse?” he asked, alarmed at +seeing her outside of the room.</p> + +<p>“No; the same.”</p> + +<p>She found Paul in the lower hall. “Is she worse?” he said.</p> + +<p>“No. How constantly you think of her!”</p> + +<p>“Of course.”</p> + +<p>“Can I speak to you for a moment?” She led the way to the small back +room where he had sat with his head on his arms. “I want to tell you—” +she began. Then she stopped.</p> + +<p>His face had a worn look, his eyes were dull—a dullness caused by +sorrow and the pressure of care. But to her, as he stood there, he was +supreme, her whole heart went out to him. “How I love him!” The feeling +swept over her like a flood, overwhelming everything else.</p> + +<p>“What is it you wish to tell me?” Paul asked, seeing that she still +remained silent.</p> + +<p>“How can I do it!—how can I do it!” she said to herself.</p> + +<p>“Don’t tell me, then, if it troubles you,” he added, his voice taking +the kindly tones she dreaded.</p> + +<p>Her courage vanished. “Another time,” she said hurriedly, and, turning, +she left the room.</p> + +<p>But as she went up the stairs she knew that there would be no other +time. “Never! never! I shall never tell him. What do I care for +truthfulness, or courage, compared with one word of his spoken in that +tone!”<a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII.</h2> + +<p>M<small>ISS</small> S<small>ABRINA</small>’<small>S</small> first letters had been so full of grief that they had +been vague; to her there had been but the one fact: Ferdie was dead.</p> + +<p>She had become much attached to him. There was nothing strange in this; +both as boy and as man, Ferdinand Morrison had been deeply loved by +many. The poor woman knew his fault (she thought it his only one), for +the judge had written an account of all that had happened, and the +reasons for Cicely’s flight. Nevertheless she loved this prodigal as the +prodigal is often so dearly loved by the woman whose heart is pierced +the most deeply by his excesses—his mother. And Miss Sabrina, as +regarded her devotion, might indeed have been Ferdie’s mother; something +in him roused the dormant maternal feeling—the maternal passion—which +existed in her heart unknown to herself. She did not comprehend what it +was that was disturbing her so much, and yet at the same time making her +so happy—she did not comprehend that it was stifled nature asserting +itself at this late day; the circumstances of her life had made her a +gentle, conciliatory old maid; she was not in the least aware that as a +mother she could have been a tigress in the defence of her sons. For she +was a woman who would have rejoiced in her sons; daughters would never +have been important to her.</p> + +<p>She thought that she was perfectly reasonable about Ferdie. No, Cicely +must not come back to<a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a> him for the present; baby too—darling little +boy!—he must be kept away; and oh! how terrible that flight through the +woods, and the escape in the boat; she thought of it every night with +tremors. Yet, in spite of all, she loved the man who had caused these +griefs. His illness made him dependent upon her, and his voice calling +her name in peremptory tones, like those of a spoiled child—this was +the sweetest sound her ears had ever heard. He would reform, all her +hopes and plans were based upon that; she went about with prayer on her +lips from morning till night—prayer for him.</p> + +<p>When his last breath had been drawn, it seemed to her as if the daily +life of the world must have stopped too, outside of the darkened +chamber; as if people could not go on eating and drinking, and the sun +go on shining, with Ferdie dead. She was able to keep her place at the +head of the household until after the funeral; then she became the prey +of an illness which, though quiet and unobtrusive, like everything else +connected with her, was yet sufficiently persistent to confine her to +her bed. Nanny Singleton, who had come to Romney every day, rowed by +Boliver, now came again, this time to stay; she took possession of the +melancholy house, re-established order after her inexact fashion, and +then devoted herself to nursing her friend.</p> + +<p>Two of Nanny Singleton’s letters.</p> + +<p>Letter number one:</p> + +<div class="block"> + +<p class="r">“R<small>OMNEY</small>, <i>Friday evening.</i></p> + +<p>“DEAR JUDGE,—I feel that we have been very remiss in +not sending to you sooner the details of this heart-breaking +event. But we have been so afflicted ourselves with the unexpectedness +of it all, with the funeral, and with dear Sabrina’s +illness, that we have been somewhat negligent. We feel, +Rupert and I, that we have lost not only one who was personally +dear to us, but also the most fascinating, the most brilliant, +the most thoroughly engaging young man whom it has +ever been our good-fortune to meet. Such a death is a public +calamity, and you, his nearest and dearest, must admit us +(as well as many, many others) to that circle of mourning +friends who esteemed him highly, admired him inexpressibly, +and loved him sincerely for the unusually charming qualities +he possessed.</p> + +<p>“Our dearest Sabrina told us all the particulars the morning +after his death, for of course we came directly to her as +soon as we heard what had happened. He had been making, +as you probably know, a visit in Savannah; Dr. Knox had +accompanied him, or perhaps it was that he joined him there; +at any rate, it was Dr. Knox who brought him home. It +seems that he had overestimated his strength—so natural in +a young man!—and he arrived much exhausted; so much so, +indeed, that the doctor thought it better that dear Sabrina +should not see him that evening. And the next day she only +saw him once, and from across the room; he was alarmingly +pale, and did not open his eyes; Dr. Knox said that he must +not try to speak. It was the next morning at dawn that the +doctor came to her door and told Powlyne to waken her. +(But she was not asleep.) ‘He is going, if you wish to come;’ +this was all he said. Dear Sabrina, greatly agitated, threw +on her wrapper over her night-dress, and hastened to the bedside +of the dear boy. He lay in a stupor, he did not know +her; and in less than half an hour his breath ceased. She +prayed for him during the interval, she knelt down and prayed +aloud; it was a wonder that she had the strength to do it +when a soul so dear to her was passing. When it had taken +flight, she closed his eyes, and made all orderly about him. +And she kissed him for Cicely, she told me.</p> + +<p>“The funeral she arranged herself in every detail. Receiving +no replies to her despatches to you, she was obliged +to use her own judgment; she had confessed to me in the beginning +that she much wished to have him buried here at +Romney, in the little circle of her loved ones, and not hearing +from you to the contrary, she decided to do this; he lies beside +your brother Marmaduke. Our friends came from all +the islands near and far; there must have been sixty persons +in all, many bringing flowers. Dr. Knox stayed with us until +after the funeral—that is, until day before yesterday; then +he took his leave of us, and went to Charleston by the evening +boat. He seems a most excellent young man. And if he +strikes us as a little cold, no doubt it is simply that, being a +Northerner, and not a man of much cultivation, he could not +appreciate fully Ferdie’s very remarkable qualities. Dear old +Dr. Daniels, who has been in Virginia for several weeks, has +now returned; he comes over every day to see Sabrina. He +tells me that her malady is intermittent fever—a mild form; +the only point is to keep her strength up, and this we endeavor +to do with chickens. I will remain here as long as I +can be of the slightest service, and you may rest assured that +everything possible is being done.</p> + +<p>“I trust darling Cicely is not burdened by the many letters +we have written to her—my own four, and Rupert’s three, +as well as those of her other friends on the islands about here. +All wished to write, and we did not know how to say no.</p> + +<p>“With love to Miss Bruce, I am, dear judge, your attached +and sorrowing friend,</p> + +<p class="r">N<small>ANNY</small> S<small>INGLETON</small>.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Letter number two:</p> + +<div class="block"> + +<p class="r">“R<small>OMNEY</small>, <i>Saturday Morning.</i></p> + +<p>“MY DEAR MR. TENNANT,—My husband has just received +your letter, and as he is much crippled by his rheumatism this +morning, he desires me to answer it immediately, so that there +may be no delay.</p> + +<p>“We both supposed that Dr. Knox had written to you. +Probably while he was here there were so many things to +take up his time that he could not; and I happen to know +that as soon as he reached Charleston, day before yesterday, +he was met by this unexpected proposition to join a private +yacht for a cruise of several months; one of the conditions +was that he was to go on board immediately (they sailed the +same evening), and I dare say he had time for nothing but +his own preparations, and that you will hear from him later. +My husband says, however, that he can give you all the details +of the case, which was a simple one. Your brother overestimated +his strength, he should not have attempted that +journey to Savannah; it was too soon, for his wound had +not healed, and the fatigue brought on a dangerous relapse, +from which he could not rally. He died from the effects of +that cruel shot, Mr. Tennant; his valuable life has fallen a +sacrifice (in my husband’s opinion) to the present miserable +condition of our poor State, where the blacks, our servants, +who are like little children and need to be led as such,—where +these poor ignorant creatures are put over us, their former +masters; are rewarded with office; are intrusted with dangerous +weapons—a liberty which in this case has proved fatal +to one of the higher race. It seems to my husband as if the +death of Ferdinand Morrison should be held up as a marked +warning to the entire North; this very superior, talented, and +engaging young man has fallen by the bullet of a negro, and +my husband says that in his opinion the tale should be told +everywhere, on the steps of court-houses and in churches, and +the question should be solemnly asked, Shall such things continue?—shall +the servant rule his lord?</p> + +<p>“We are much alarmed by the few words in Judge Abercrombie’s +letter (received this morning) concerning our darling +Cicely, and we beg you to send us a line daily. Or perhaps +Miss Bruce would do it, knowing our anxiety? I pray that +the dear child, whom we all so fondly love, may be better very +soon; but I will be anxious until I hear.</p> + +<p>“As I sent a long letter to the judge last evening, I will +not add more to this. Our sympathy, dear Mr. Tennant, +with your irreparable loss is heartfelt; you do not need our +assurances of that, I know.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Singleton desires me to present his respects. And I +beg to remain your obedient servant,</p> + +<p class="r">N. S<small>INGLETON</small>.”</p> + +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV.</h2> + +<p>M<small>IDSUMMER</small> at Port aux Pins. The day was very hot; there was no feeling +of dampness, such as belongs sometimes to the lower-lake towns in the +dog-days, up here the air remained dry and clear and pure; but the +splendid sunshine had almost the temperature<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a> of flame; it seemed as if +the miles of forest must take fire, as from a burning-glass.</p> + +<p>Eve stood at the open window of Paul’s little parlor. A figure passed in +the road outside, but she did not notice it. Reappearing, it opened the +gate and came in. “Many happy returns—of cooler weather! We ought to +pity the Eyetalians; what must their sufferings be on such a day as +this!”</p> + +<p>Eve gazed at the speaker unseeingly. Then recognition arrived;—“Oh, Mr. +Hollis.”</p> + +<p>Hollis came into the house; he joined her in the parlor. “My best +respects. Can’t help thinking of the miserable Eyetalians.” Eve made no +reply. “Just heard a piece of news,” Hollis went on. “Paul has sold his +Clay County iron. He would have made five times as much by holding on. +But he has been so jammed lately by unexpected demands made upon him +that he had no other course; all his brother’s South American +speculations have come to grief, and the creditors have come down on +<i>him</i> like a thousand of brick!”</p> + +<p>“Will he have to pay much?” asked Eve, her lassitude gone.</p> + +<p>“More than he’s got,” answered Hollis, putting his hands still more +deeply into his trousers pockets, his long, lean, fish-like figure +projecting itself forward into space from the sixth rib. “I don’t get +this from Paul, you may depend; <i>he</i> don’t blab. But the law sharks who +came up here to get hold of whatever they could (for you see Paul has +always been a partner in his brother’s enterprises, so that gives ’em a +chance), these scamps talked to me some. So I know. But even the sale of +his Clay County iron won’t clear Paul—he will have to guarantee other<a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a> +debts; it will take him years to clear it all off, unless he has +something better than his present salary to do it with.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to have told me. I have money.”</p> + +<p>“I guess he wouldn’t take it. He’s had pretty hard lines all round; he +wanted terribly bad to go straight to Ferdie, as soon as he heard he was +shot. But Mrs. Morrison—she had come here, you know; and he had all +Ferdie’s expenses to think of too, so that kept him grinding along. But +he wanted awfully to go; he thought the world and all of Ferdie.”</p> + +<p>“I know he did,” said Eve. And now her face was like a tragic +mask—deadly white, with a frown, the eyes under her straight brows +looking at him fixedly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, eheu!” thought Hollis distressfully, disgustedly. “You screw +yourself up to tell her all these things about him, because you think it +will please her; and <i>this</i> is the way she takes ’em!”</p> + +<p>He looked at her again; she gave no sign. Feeling painfully +insignificant and helpless, he turned and left the room.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Paul came in. “You have sold your Clay County iron!” +said Eve.</p> + +<p>“I have always intended to sell it.”</p> + +<p>“Not at a sacrifice.”</p> + +<p>“One does as one can—a business transaction.”</p> + +<p>“How much money have you sent to your brother all these years?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that it is—I don’t know what interest you can have in +it,” Paul answered.</p> + +<p>“You mean that it is not my business. Oh, don’t be so hard! Say three +words just for once.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I’ll say as many as you like, Eve. Ferdie<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a> was one of the most +brilliant fellows in the world; if he had lived, all his investments +would have turned out finely, he was sure of a fortune some time.”</p> + +<p>“And, in the meanwhile, you supported him; you have always done it.”</p> + +<p>“You are mistaken. I advanced him money now and then when he happened to +be short, but it was always for the time being only; he would have paid +me back if he had lived.”</p> + +<p>The door opened, and the judge came in. “I’m glad you’re here,” said +Paul; “now we can decide, we three, upon what is best to be done. The +doctor says that while this heat is very bad for Cicely, travel would be +still worse; she cannot go anywhere by train, and hardly by +steamer—though that is better; there would be no use, then, in trying +to take her south.”</p> + +<p>“It’s ten times hotter here to-day than I ever saw it at Romney,” +interposed the judge. “It’s a tophet—this town of yours!”</p> + +<p>“I was thinking also of Miss Abercrombie’s illness,” Paul went on. +“Though her fever is light, her room is still a sick-room, and that +would depress Cicely, I feel sure. But, meanwhile, the poor girl is +hourly growing weaker, and so this is what I have thought of: we will go +into camp in the pines near Jupiter Light. Don’t you remember how much +good camp-life did her before?”</p> + +<p>Six days later they were living in the pine woods at Jupiter. This time +lodges had been built; the nurse accompanied Cicely; they were a party +of eight, without counting the cook and the Indians.</p> + +<p>At first Cicely remained in much the same state, she recognized no one +but Jack.<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a></p> + +<p>Jack continued to be his mother’s most constant adorer; he climbed often +into her lap, and, putting his arms round her neck, “loved” her with his +cheek against hers, and with all his little heart; he came trotting up +many times a day, to stroke her face with his dimpled hand. Cicely +looked at him, but did not answer. After ten days in the beneficent +forest, however, her strength began to revive, and their immediate fears +were calmed. One evening she asked for her grandfather, and when he came +hastily in and bent over her couch, she smiled and kissed him. He sat +down beside her, holding her hand; after a while she fell into a sleep. +The old man went softly out, he went to the camp-fire, and made it +blaze, throwing on fresh pine-cones recklessly.</p> + +<p>“Sixty-five in the shade,” remarked Hollis.</p> + +<p>“This Northern air is always abominable. Will you make me a taste of +something spicy? I feel the need of it. Miss Bruce,—Eve—Cicely knows +me!”</p> + +<p>Eve looked at his brightened face, at the blazing fire, the rough table +with the tumblers, the flask, and the lemons. Hollis had gone to the +kitchen to get hot water.</p> + +<p>“She knows me,” repeated the judge, triumphantly. “She sent for me +herself.”</p> + +<p>Paul now appeared, and the good news was again told. Paul had just come +from Port aux Pins. After establishing them at Jupiter, he had been +obliged to return to town immediately, and he had remained there closely +occupied for more than a week. He sat down, refusing Hollis’s proffered +glass. The nurse came out, and walked to and fro before Cicely’s lodge, +breathing the aromatic air; this meant that<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a> Cicely still slept. Eve had +seated herself a little apart from the fire; her figure was in the +shadow. Her mind was filled with but one thought: “Cicely better? Then +must I tell her?” By-and-by the conversation of the others came to her.</p> + +<p>“Hanging is too good for them,” said the judge.</p> + +<p>“But wasn’t it supposed to be a chance shot?” remarked Hollis. “Not +intentional, exactly?”</p> + +<p>“That makes no difference. You may call it absolute chance, if you like; +but the negro who dares to lift a pistol against a white man should not +be left alive five minutes afterwards,” declared the old planter, +implacably.</p> + +<p>“You’d ought to have lived in the days of religious wars,” drawled +Hollis. “I don’t know anything else carnivorous enough to suit you.”</p> + +<p>“You must be a Quaker, sir! Tennant feels as I do, he’d shoot at sight.”</p> + +<p>“Oh no, he wouldn’t,” said Hollis. “He ain’t a Southerner.”</p> + +<p>“Tennant can speak for himself,” said the judge, confidently.</p> + +<p>“I’d shoot the man who shot my brother,” answered Paul. “I’d go down +there to-morrow—I should have gone long ago—if I thought there was the +least chance of finding him.” A dark flush rose in his face. “I’m +afraid—even if it was an unintentional shot—that I should want to +<i>kill</i> that man just the same; I should be a regular savage!”</p> + +<p>“Would you never forgive him?” asked Eve’s voice from the shadow.</p> + +<p>“Blood for blood!” responded Paul, hotly. “No, not unless I killed him; +then I might.”</p> + +<p>Eve rose.<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a></p> + +<p>Paul got up. “Oh, are you going?” But she did not hear him; she had gone +to her lodge. He sat down again. She did not reappear that night.</p> + +<p>The next morning she went off for a solitary walk. By chance her steps +took the direction of a small promontory that jutted sharply into the +lake, its perpendicular face rising to a height of forty feet from the +deep water below; she had been here several times before, and knew the +place well; it was about a mile from the camp. As she sat there, Paul’s +figure appeared through the trees. He came straight to her. “I have been +looking for you, I tried to find you last night.” He paused a moment. +“Eve, don’t you see what I’ve come for? Right in the midst of all this +grief and trouble I’ve found out something. It’s just this, Eve: I love +you.”</p> + +<p>She tried to rise, but he put his hand on her shoulder to keep her where +she was. “Oh, but I do, you needn’t doubt it,” he went on, with an +amused smile—amused at himself; “in some way or other the thing has +come about, I may say, in spite of me. I never thought it would. But +here ’tis—with a vengeance! I think of you constantly, I can’t help +thinking of you; I recognize, at last, that the thing is unchangeable, +that it’s for life; have you I must.” The words were despotic, but the +tone was entreating; and the eyes, looking down upon her, were +caressing—imploring. “Yes, I’m as helpless as any one,” Paul went on, +smiling as he said it; “I can’t sleep, even. Come, take me; I’m not such +a bad fellow, after all—I really think I’m not. And as regards my +feeling for you, you need not be troubled; it’s strong enough!”</p> + +<p>She quailed under his ardor.<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a></p> + +<p>“I haven’t spoken before because there has been so much to do,” Paul +continued; “there has been Cicely, and then I’ve been harassed about +business; I’ve been in a box, and trying to get out. Besides, I wasn’t +perfectly sure that my time had come.” He laughed. “I’m sure now.” He +took her in his arms. “Don’t let us make any delays, Eve; we’re not so +young, either of us. Not that you need be afraid that you’re to be the +less happy on that account; I’ll see to that!”</p> + +<p>She broke from him.</p> + +<p>But again he came to her, he took her hands, and, kneeling, laid his +forehead upon them. “I will be as humble as you like; only—be good to +me. I long for it, I must have it.”</p> + +<p>A sob rose in her throat. He sprang up. “Don’t do that! Why, I want to +make you absolutely happy, if I can. We shall have troubles enough, and +perhaps we shall have sorrows, but at least we shall be together; you +must never leave me, and I will do all I can to be less rough. But on +your side there’s one thing, Eve: you <i>must</i> love me.” These last words +were murmured in her ear.</p> + +<p>She drew herself away from him. The expression of her face was almost +like death.</p> + +<p>“You look as though you were afraid of me! I thought you loved me, Eve?”</p> + +<p>“I do.”</p> + +<p>“Pretend you are a man, then, long enough to say ‘yes’ without any more +circumlocution. We will be married at Port aux Pins. Then we can take +care of Cicely together.”</p> + +<p>“I shall never marry.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you will.”<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a></p> + +<p>“I do not wish to leave Cicely.”</p> + +<p>“She wouldn’t care about that. She isn’t even fond of you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what shall I say to you?” cried Eve, her hands dropping by her +sides. “Listen: it will be absolutely impossible for you to change my +determination. But I am so horribly unhappy that I do believe I cannot +stand anything more—any more contests with you. Leave me to myself; say +nothing to me. But don’t drive me away; at least let me stay near you.”</p> + +<p>“In my arms, Eve.”</p> + +<p>“Let me stay near you; see you; hear you talk; but that is all.”</p> + +<p>“And how long do you suppose that could last? It’s a regular woman’s +idea: nonsense.”</p> + +<p>“Paul, be merciful!”</p> + +<p>“Merciful? Oh, yes!” He took her again in his arms.</p> + +<p>“I swear to you that I cannot marry you,” she said, trembling as his +cheek touched hers. “Since I’ve known you I haven’t wanted to die, I’ve +wanted to live—live a long life. But now I <i>do</i> want to die; there is a +barrier between us, I cannot lift it.”</p> + +<p>He released her. “There could be but one.—I believe that you are +truthful; is the barrier another man?”</p> + +<p>Another man? She hesitated a moment. “Yes.”</p> + +<p>He looked at her. “I don’t believe you! You are lying for some purpose +of your own. See here, Eve, I don’t want to be played with in this way; +you love me, and I worship you; by this time next week you are to be my +wife.”</p> + +<p><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>“I must go away from you, then? You won’t help me? Where can I go!” She +left him; she walked slowly towards the lake, her head bowed.</p> + +<p>He followed her. He had paid no attention to what she was saying; +“feminine complications”—this was all he thought. He was very masterful +with women.</p> + +<p>As he came up she turned her head and looked at him. And, by a sort of +inspiration, he divined that the look was a farewell. He caught her, and +none too soon, for, as he touched her, he felt the impulse, the first +forward movement of the spring which would have taken her over the edge, +down to the deep water below.</p> + +<p>Carrying her in his arms, close against his breast, he hastened away +from the edge; he went inland for a long distance. Then he stopped, +releasing her. He was extremely pale.</p> + +<p>“I believe you now,” he said. “All shall be as you like—just as you +like; I will do anything you wish me to do.” He seemed to be still +afraid, he watched her anxiously.</p> + +<p>She came and put her hands on his shoulders; she lifted her head and +kissed his cheek. It was like the kiss one gives in the chamber of +death.</p> + +<p>He did not move, he was holding himself in strict control. But he felt +the misery of her greeting so acutely that moisture rose in his eyes.</p> + +<p>She saw it. “Don’t be troubled about me,” she said. “I didn’t want to +die—really, I didn’t want to at all. It was only because just at that +moment I could not bear it to have you keep asking me when it was +impossible,—I felt that I must go away; and apart from you, and Cicely +and baby, there seemed no place in the world for me! But now—now I<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a> +<i>want</i> to live. Perhaps we shall both live long lives.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not a woman, you know,” said Paul, with a faint smile. “Women do +with make-believes; men can’t.”</p> + +<p>She had left him. “Go now,” she said.</p> + +<p>He turned to obey. Then he came back. “Eve, can’t you tell me your real +reason?”</p> + +<p>But her face changed so quickly to its old look of agony that he felt a +pang of regret that he had spoken. “I will never ask you again,” he +said.</p> + +<p>This was the offering he made her—a great one for Paul Tennant. He went +away.</p> + +<p>An hour later she came back to the camp.</p> + +<p>“Paul has gone to Potterpins,” said Hollis, who was sitting by the fire. +“Told me to give you this.” He handed her a note.</p> + +<p>It contained but two lines: “I shall come back next week. But send a +note by mail; I want to know if you are contented with me.”</p> + +<p>Eve wrote but one word—“Yes.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV.</h2> + +<p>P<small>AUL</small> remained away for ten days; not by his own wish, but detained by +business.</p> + +<p>During his absence Hollis’s services were in demand. Cicely was now able +to go out on the lake, and he took her for an hour or two every morning +in one of the larger canoes; the nurse and Cicely sat at the bow, then +came Porley and Jack, then Eve, then Hollis. Cicely still did not talk, +she had not again asked for her grandfather; but she looked at the water +and the woods on the shore, and her face<a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a> showed occasionally some +slight childish interest in what was passing. Eve, too, scarcely spoke; +but it was pleasure enough for poor Hollis to be opposite to her, where +he could see her without appearing to gaze too steadily. He had always +admired her; he had admired her voice, her reticent, independent way; he +had admired her tall, slender figure, with the broad sweep of the +shoulders, the erect carriage, and lithe, strong step. He had never +thought her too cold, too pale; but now in the increased life and color +which had come to her she seemed to him a daughter of the gods—the +strong Northern gods with flaxen hair; the flush in her cheeks made her +eyes bluer and her hair more golden; the curve of her lips, a curve +which had once been almost sullen, was now strangely sweet. Her love had +made her beautiful; her love, too, made her kind to Hollis;—women are +often unconsciously cruel in this way. The poor auctioneer lived in a +fool’s paradise and forgot all his cautions; day-dreams began to visit +him, he was a boy again.</p> + +<p>On the eleventh day Paul returned.</p> + +<p>Hollis happened to see him meet Eve. Outwardly it was simply that they +shook hands, and stood for a moment exchanging an unimportant question +or two; or rather Paul asked, and Eve answered; but Paul’s tone was not +what it once had been, his eyes, looking at Eve, were different. It was +one thing to know that she loved Paul, Hollis was used to that; it was +another to know that Paul loved her. He watched through the day, with +all the acuteness of jealousy, discovering nothing. But that evening, +when Eve had said good-night and started towards her lodge, Paul rose +and followed her.<a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a></p> + +<p>“I guess I’ll go down to the lake for a moment or two,” Hollis said to +the judge, who was sitting by the fire. He walked away in the direction +of the lake; then, doubling upon his track, he returned, avoiding the +fire and going towards the row of lodges. Presently he saw two dusky +figures, a man and a woman; they stood there for a moment; then the man +bent his head and touched with his lips the woman’s wrist. It was but +for a second; they separated, she going towards her lodge, and he +returning to the fire. The watcher in the wood stole noiselessly down to +the beach and got out a canoe; then he went off and woke an Indian. +Presently the two were paddling westward over the dark lake. They caught +the steamer. Hollis reached Port aux Pins the following evening.</p> + +<p>From the boat he went to a restaurant and ordered dinner; he called it +“dinner” to make it appear more fine. He ordered the best that the +establishment could offer. He complained because there were no +anchovies. He said to the waiter: “<i>This</i> patty de fograr?—You must be +sick! Take away these off-color peaches and bring me something first +class. Bring lick-koors, too; can you catch on to that?” He drank a +great deal of wine, finishing with champagne; then he lit a cigar and +sauntered out.</p> + +<p>He went to a beer-garden. The place was brightly lighted; dusty +evergreens planted in tubs made foliage; little tables were standing in +the sand; there was a stage upon which four men, in Tyrolese costume, +were singing, “O Strassburg, du wunderschöne Stadt!” very well, +accompanied by a small orchestra.<a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a></p> + +<p>“Hello, Katty, wie geht’s?” said Hollis to a girl who was passing with a +tray of empty beer-glasses. She stopped. “Want some ice-cream, Katty?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come now, Mr. Hollis, you know there’s no ice-cream here.”</p> + +<p>“Did I say here? Outside, of course. Come along.”</p> + +<p>Katty went, nothing loath.</p> + +<p>She was a girl of sixteen, with bright eyes, thick braids of brown hair, +and a sweet voice; the fairness of extreme youth gave her a fictitious +innocence. He took her to the ephemeral saloon, and sat looking at her +while she devoured two large slabs of a violently pink tint; her +preposterous Gainsborough hat, with its imitation plumes, she had taken +off, and the flaring gas-light shone on her pretty face.</p> + +<p>“Now shall we have a walk, Katty?”</p> + +<p>They strolled through the streets for half an hour. He took her into a +jeweller’s shop, and bought her a German-silver dog-collar which she had +admired in the window; she wanted it to clasp round her throat: “Close +up, you know, under the chin; it’s so cute that way.” She was profuse in +her thanks; of her own accord, when they came out, she took his arm.</p> + +<p>He fell into silence. They passed his rooms; Katty looked up. “All +dark,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I guess I’ll take you back now, Katty; do you want to go home, or +to the garden again?”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t accustomed to going to bed at this early hour, Mr. Hollis, +whatever you may be. I’ll go back to the gardens, please.”</p> + +<p>When they reached the entrance, he put his hand in his pocket and drew +something out. “There,<a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a> Katty, take that and buy more dog-collars. +Money’s all an old fellow like me is good for.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Hollis,—when I like you better than many that’s young.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Katty. Good-night.”</p> + +<p>He went, as he would have called it, “home.” On the way he passed his +office; a vague impulse made him unlock the door, and look in, by the +light of a match. The skeleton was there, and the bonnets in their +bandboxes. “I must try to work ’em off before winter,” he thought; “they +are really elegant.” He locked the door again, and, going a little +farther down the street, he entered an open hallway, and began to climb +a long flight of stairs. On the second floor he inserted his key in a +door, and, opening, entered; he was at home. The air was close and hot, +and he threw up the windows; leaving the candle in the outer room, he +went and sat down in his parlor, crossing his legs, and trying to lean +back; every chair in the room was in its very nature and shape +uncomfortable. Sitting there, his life in retrospect passed slowly +before him, like a picture unrolling itself on the dark wall; he saw all +the squalid poverty of it, all its disappointments, its deprivations. +“From first to last it’s been a poor affair; I wonder how I’ve stood +it!” The dawn came into the room, he did not move; he sat there with his +hat on until the little bell of the Baptist church near by began to ring +for Sabbath-school. He listened to the sound for a while, it was +persistent; finally he got up; his legs felt stiff, he brushed some dust +from his trousers with the palm of his hand; then he went out.</p> + +<p>He went down to the street, and thence to the Baptist church. The door +stood open, and he went<a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a> in; the children were already in their places, +and the organ was sounding forth a lively tune; presently the young +voices began all together in a chorus,</p> + +<p class="c">“The voice of free grace cries escape to the mount-<i>ins</i>—”</p> + +<p>His mother used to sing that song, he remembered. She often sang it over +her work, and she was always at work—yes, to the very day of her death; +she was a patient, silent creature.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that I’d oughter have less pluck than she had,” thought +her son.</p> + +<p>“Brother, will you have a book?” whispered a little man in a duster, +proffering one from behind.</p> + +<p>Hollis took it, and followed the words as the children sang them to the +end. When the prayer began, he laid the book down carefully on the seat, +and went out on tiptoe. He went down to the pier; the westward bound +boat had just come in; he went on board.</p> + +<p>“Business,” he explained to the judge, when he reached the camp. “Had to +go.”</p> + +<p>“Sold the skeleton, perhaps?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve laid one!” responded Hollis, grimly.</p> + +<p>The judge was in gay spirits, Cicely had been talking to him; it had +been about Jack, and she had said nothing of importance; but the +sentences had been rational, connected.</p> + +<p>Several days passed, and the improvement continued; consciousness had +returned to her eyes, they all felt hopeful. They had strolled down to +the beach one evening to see the sunset, and watch the first flash of +Jupiter Light out on its reef. Eve was with Hollis; she selected him +each day as her companion, asking him in so many words to accompany her; +Hollis went, showering out jokes and puns.<a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a> Now and then he varied his +efforts at entertainment by legends of what he called “old times on the +frontier.” They always began: “My father lived on a flat-boat. He was a +bold and adventurous character.” In reality, his father was a teacher of +singing, who earned his living (sometimes) by getting up among +school-children, who co-operated without pay, a fairy operetta called +<i>The Queen of the Flowers</i>; he was an amiable man with a mild tenor +voice; he finally became a colporteur for the Methodist Book Concern. +To-day Hollis was talking about the flat-boat—maundering on, as he +would himself have called it; Paul and the judge strolled to and fro. +The water came up smoothly in long, low swells, whose edge broke at +their feet with a little sound like “whisssh,” followed by a retreating +gurgle.</p> + +<p>“Paul Tennant, are you there?” asked a voice.</p> + +<p>Startled, they turned. On the bank above the beach, and therefore just +above their heads (the bank was eight feet high), stood Cicely.</p> + +<p>“It is you I want, Paul Tennant. Everything has come back to me; I know +now that Ferdie is dead. You would not let me go to him; probably he +thought that it was because I did not want to go. This I owe to you, and +I curse you for it. I curse you, Paul Tennant, I curse your days and +nights; all the things and people you like, all your hopes and plans. If +you trust any one, I hope that person will betray you; if you love any +one, I hope that person will hate you; if you should have any children, +I hope they will be disobedient, and, whatever they may be to others, +undutiful to you.”</p> + +<p>“Cicely, stop!” cried Eve. “Will no one stop her?”<a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a></p> + +<p>“God, curse Paul Tennant. He has been so cruel!” She was now kneeling +down, her arms held up to heaven in appeal.</p> + +<p>The judge looked waxily pallid; Hollis did not move; Paul, much less +disturbed than any one, was already climbing the bank. It was +perpendicular, and there was neither footing nor hold, but after one or +two efforts he succeeded. When he reached the top, however, Cicely was +gone. He went to her lodge; here he found her sitting quietly beside +Jack’s bed; she was alone, neither the nurse nor Porley was with her. +Before he could speak, Eve appeared, breathless.</p> + +<p>“Where is the nurse, Cicely?” Paul asked, in his usual tone.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that woman whom you have put over me? She has gone for a +walk.”</p> + +<p>“And Porley?”</p> + +<p>“You will find Porley at the big pine.”</p> + +<p>“What is she doing there?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t want her about, so I tied her to the trunk,” Cicely answered. +“Probably she is frightened,” she added, calmly.</p> + +<p>“Go and find her,” said Eve to Paul. “I will stay here.”</p> + +<p>“Have nothing to do with Paul Tennant, Eve,” Cicely remarked. “He is +almost a murderer. He didn’t go to his brother; he let him die alone.”</p> + +<p>“I shall not leave you,” said Paul, looking at Eve’s white cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Have you fallen in love with each other?” asked Cicely. “It needed only +that.”</p> + +<p>“I beg you to go,” Eve entreated.</p> + +<p>Paul hesitated. “Will you promise not to leave this lodge until I come +back?”<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a></p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Paul went out. As he did so, he saw the judge approaching, leaning +heavily on Hollis’s arm.</p> + +<p>“It’s nothing,” Hollis explained. “The judge, he’s only tuckered out; a +night’s rest is all he needs.”</p> + +<p>“Take me to Cicely,” the judge commanded.</p> + +<p>“Cicely ought to be quiet now,” Paul answered in a decided voice. “Eve +is with her, and they’re all right; women do better alone together, you +know, when one of them has hysteria.”</p> + +<p>“Hysteria! Is that what you called it?” said the judge.</p> + +<p>“Of course. And it’s natural,” Paul went on:—“poor little girl, coming +to herself suddenly here in the woods, only to realize that her husband +is dead. We shall have to be doubly tender with her, now that she is +beginning to be herself again.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t mind it, then?” pursued the judge. He was relieved, of +course—glad. Still it began to seem almost an impertinence that Paul +should have paid so little attention to what had been to the rest of +them so terrible.</p> + +<p>“Mind? Do you mean what she was saying? I didn’t half hear it, I was +thinking how I could get up that bank. And that reminds me there’s +something wrong with Porley; she’s at the big pine. I am going out there +to see. Cicely told me that she had tied her in some way.”</p> + +<p>“If she did, the wench richly deserved it,” said the judge, going +towards his lodge, his step stiff and slow.</p> + +<p>“He came mighty near a stroke,” said Hollis to Paul in an undertone.</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t you better go with him, then?”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes; I’ll go.” He went towards the judge’s<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a> lodge. “You go right +into that lodge, fool Hollis, and stay there,—stay with that +unreasonable, vituperative, cantankerous old Bourbon of a judge, +and—judge of Bourbon! You smooth him down, and you hearten him up, you +agree with him every time; you tuck him in, you hang his old clothes +over a chair, you take his shoes out, and black ’em; and you conduct +yourself generally like one of his own nigs in the glorious old days of +slavery—Maryland, my Maryland!” He lifted the latch of the door, and +went in.</p> + +<p>Paul, meanwhile, had gone to the big pine; when he reached it, the +twilight had darkened into night. A crouching figure stood close to the +trunk—Porley; she was tied by a small rope to the tree, the firm +ligatures encircling her in three places—at the throat, the waist, and +the ankles; in addition, her hands were tied behind her.</p> + +<p>“Well, Porley, a good joke, isn’t it?” Paul said, as he cut the knots of +the rope with his knife.</p> + +<p>“Ah-<i>hoo!</i>” sobbed the girl, her fright breaking into audible expression +now that aid was near.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Morrison thought she would see how brave you were.”</p> + +<p>“Ah-hoo! Ah-hoo-hoo-<i>hoo!</i>” roared Porley, in a paroxysm of frantic +weeping.</p> + +<p>“If you are so frightened as that, what did you let her do it for? You +are five times as strong as she is.”</p> + +<p>“I coulden tech her, marse—I coulden! Says she, ‘A-follerin’ an’ +spyin’, Porley? Take dat rope an’ come wid me. ’ So I come. She’s cunjud +me, marse; I is done fer.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! Where’s the nurse?”<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a></p> + +<p>“I doan know—I doan know. Says she, ‘We’ll take a walk, Miss Mile.’ An’ +off dey went, ’way ober dat way. Reckon Miss Mile’s dead!”</p> + +<p>“No more dead than you are. Go back to the camp and un-cunjer yourself; +there’s a dollar to help it along.”</p> + +<p>He went off in the direction she had indicated. After a while he began +to call at intervals; there was a distant answer, and he called again. +And then gradually, nearer and nearer, came the self-respecting voice of +Mary Ann Mile. Each time he shouted, “Hello there!” her answer was, +“Yes, sir; present-lée,” in a very well-educated tone.</p> + +<p>“What is this, Mrs. Mile?”</p> + +<p>“You may well ask, sir. Such an incident has never happened to me +before. Mrs. Morrison remarked that she should enjoy a walk, and I +therefore went with her; after we had proceeded some distance, suddenly +she darted off. I followed her, and kept her in sight for a while, or +rather she kept me in sight; then she disappeared, and I perceived not +only that I had lost her, but that I myself was lost. It is a curious +thing, sir,—the cleverness of people whose minds are disordered!”</p> + +<p>“Her mind is no longer disordered, Mrs. Mile; she has got back her +senses.”</p> + +<p>“Do you consider this an instance of it?” asked the nurse, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>When Paul left Cicely’s lodge, Eve closed the door. “Cicely, I have +something to tell you. Listen.”</p> + +<p>“It is a pity you like that man—that Paul Tennant,” Cicely answered.</p> + +<p>“If I do like him, I can never be anything to him.<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a> This is what I +wanted to tell you: that I shot his brother.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if his brother was like <i>him</i>—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Cicely, it was Ferdie—your Ferdie.”</p> + +<p>“What do you know about Ferdie?” demanded Cicely, coldly. “He never +liked you in the least.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know, Cicely, that Ferdie is dead?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I know it. Paul would not let me go to him, and he died all +alone.”</p> + +<p>“And do you know what was the cause of his death?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; he was shot; there were some negroes, they got away in a boat.”</p> + +<p>“No, there were no negroes; I shot him. I took a pistol on purpose.”</p> + +<p>“It seems to be very hard work for you to tell me this, you are crying +dreadfully,” remarked Cicely, looking at her. “Why do you tell?”</p> + +<p>“Because I am the one you must curse. Not Paul.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all for Paul, then.”</p> + +<p>“But it was for you in the first place, Cicely. Don’t you remember that +we escaped?—that we went through the wood to the north point?—that you +tried to push the boat off, and couldn’t? Baby climbed up by one of the +seats, and Ferdie saw him, and made a dash after him; then it was that I +fired. I did it, Cicely. Nobody else.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Cicely, slowly, “you did it, did you?” She rose. “And Paul +kept me from going to him! It was all you two.” She went to the crib, +and lifted Jack from his nest. He stirred drowsily; then fell asleep +again. (Poor little Jack, what journeys!)</p> + +<p>“Open that door; and go,” Cicely commanded.</p> + +<p>Eve hesitated a moment. Then she obeyed.<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a></p> + +<p>Cicely wrapped a shawl about Jack, and laid him down; she set to work +and made two packets of clothing—one for herself, and one for the +child—slinging them upon her arm; she put on her straw hat, took Jack, +and went out, closing the door behind her. Eve, who was waiting outside +in the darkness, followed her. She dared not call for help; she hoped +that they might meet Paul coming back, or Porley, or the nurse. But they +met no one, Paul was still at the big pine. Cicely turned down to the +beach, and began to walk westward. Eve followed, moving as noiselessly +as possible; but Cicely must have heard her, though she gave no sign of +it, for, upon passing a point, Eve found that she had lost her, there +was no one in sight. She ran forward, she called her name entreatingly; +she stood by the edge of the water, fearing to see something dark +floating there. She called again, she pleaded. No answer from the dusky +night. She turned and ran back to the camp.</p> + +<p>At its edge she met Paul. “You promised me that you would not leave the +lodge,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Paul, I don’t know where she is. Oh, come—hurry, hurry!”</p> + +<p>They went together. She was so tired, so breathless, that he put his arm +round her as a support.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do not.”</p> + +<p>“This is where you ought always to be when you are tired—in my arms.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t let us talk. She may be dead.”</p> + +<p>“Poor little Cicely! But you are more to me.”</p> + +<p>His tones thrilled her, she felt faint with happiness. Suddenly came the +thought: “When we find her, she will tell him! She will tell him all I +said.”<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a></p> + +<p>“Don’t believe her; don’t believe anything she may tell you,” she +entreated, passionately. A fierce feeling took possession of her; she +would fight for her happiness. “Am I nothing to you?” she said, pausing; +“my wish nothing? Promise me not to believe anything Cicely says against +me,—anything! It’s all an hallucination.”</p> + +<p>Paul had not paid much heed to her exclamations, he thought all women +incoherent; but he perceived that she was excited, exhausted, and he +laid his hand protectingly on her hair, smoothing it with tender touch. +“Why should I mind what she says? It would be impossible for her to say +anything that could injure you in <i>my</i> eyes, Eve.”</p> + +<p>Beyond the next point they saw a light; it came from a little fire of +twigs on the beach. Beside the fire was Jack; he was carefully wrapped +in the shawl, the two poor little packets of clothing were arranged +under him as a bed; Cicely’s straw hat was under his head, and her +handkerchief covered his feet. But there was no Cicely. They went up and +down the beach, and into the wood behind; again Eve looked fearfully at +the water.</p> + +<p>“She isn’t far from Jack,” said Paul. “We shall find her in a moment or +two.”</p> + +<p>Eve’s search stopped. “In a moment or two he will know!”</p> + +<p>“Here she is!” cried Paul.</p> + +<p>And there was Cicely, sitting close under the bank in the deepest +shadow. She did not move; Paul lifted her in his arms.</p> + +<p>“The moon is under a cloud now,” she explained, in a whispering voice; +“as soon as it comes out, I shall see Ferdie over there on the opposite +shore,<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a> and I shall call to him. “Don’t let that fire go out, I haven’t +another match; he will need the light as a guide.”</p> + +<p>“She thinks she is on Singleton Island!” said Eve;—“the night we got +away.”</p> + +<p>Her tone was joyous.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI.</h2> + +<p>P<small>AUL AND</small> E<small>VE</small> took Cicely back to the camp. And almost immediately, +before Mrs. Mile could undress her, she had fallen asleep. It was the +still slumber of exhaustion, but it seemed also to be a rest; she lay +without moving all that night, and the next day, and the night +following. As she slumbered, gradually the tenseness of her face was +relaxed, the lines grew lighter, disappeared; then slowly a pink colored +her cheeks, restoring her beauty.</p> + +<p>They all came softly in from time to time to stand beside her for a +moment. The nurse was sure that the sleep was nature’s medicine, and +that it was remedial; and when at last, on the second day, the dark eyes +opened, it could be seen that physically the poor child was well.</p> + +<p>She laughed with Jack, she greeted her grandfather, and talked to him; +she called Porley “Dilsey,” and told her that she was much improved. “I +will give you a pair of silver ear-rings, Dilsey, when we get home.” For +she seemed to comprehend that they were not at home, but on a journey of +some sort. The memory of everything that had happened since Ferdie’s +arrival at Romney had been taken from her; she spoke of her husband as +in South<a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a> America. But she did not talk long on any subject. She wished +to have Jack always with her, she felt a tranquil interest in her +grandfather, and this was all. With the others she was distant. Her +manner to Eve was exactly the manner of those first weeks after Eve’s +arrival at Romney. She spoke of Paul and Hollis to her grandfather as +“your friends.”</p> + +<p>She gathered flowers; she talked to the Indians, who looked at her with +awe; she wandered up and down the beach, singing little songs, and she +spent hours afloat. Mrs. Mile, who, like the well-trained nurse that she +was, had no likes or dislikes as regarded her patients, and who +therefore cherished no resentment as to the manner in which she had been +befooled in the forest—Mrs. Mile thoroughly enjoyed “turning out” her +charge each morning in a better condition than that of the day before. +Cicely went willingly to bed at eight every evening, and she did not +wake until eight the next morning; when she came out of her lodge after +the bath, the careful rubbing, and the nourishing breakfast which formed +part of Mrs. Mile’s excellent system, from the crisp edges of her hair +down to her quick-stepping little feet, she looked high-spirited, +high-bred, and fresh as an opening rose. Mrs. Mile would follow, +bringing her straw hat, her satisfaction expressed by a tightening of +her long upper lip that seemed preliminary to a smile (though the smile +never came), and by the quiet pride visible in her well-poised back. +When, as generally happened, Cicely went out on the lake, Mrs. Mile, +after over-seeing with her own eyes the preparations for lunch, would +retire to a certain bench, whence she could<a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a> watch for the returning +boats, and devote herself to literature for a while, always reading one +book, the History of Windham, Connecticut, Windham being her native +place. As she sat there, with her plain broad-cheeked face and smooth +scanty hair, her stiff white cuffs, her neat boots, size number seven, +neatly crossed before the short skirt of her brown gown, she made a +picture of a sensible, useful person (without one grain of what a man +would call feminine attractiveness). But no one cared to have her +attractive at Jupiter Light; they were grateful for her devotion to +Cicely, and did not study her features. They all clustered round Cicely +more constantly than ever now, this strange little companion, so fair +and fresh, so happily unconscious, by God’s act, of the sorrows that had +crushed her.</p> + +<p>Paul was back and forth, now at the camp for a day or two, now at Port +aux Pins. One afternoon, when he was absent, Eve went to the little +forest burying-ground belonging to Jupiter Light. On the way she met +Cicely, accompanied by Mrs. Mile.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going? I will go with you, I think,” Cicely remarked. “It +can’t be so tiresome as <i>this.</i>”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mile went intelligently away.</p> + +<p>“I am very tired of her,” Cicely continued; “she looks like the Mad +Hatter at the tea-party: this style ten-and-six. Why are you turning +off?”</p> + +<p>“This path is prettier.”</p> + +<p>“No; I want to go where you were going first.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she won’t mind,” thought Eve.</p> + +<p>When they came to the little enclosure, Cicely looked at it calmly. “Is +this a garden?” she asked. She began to gather wild flowers outside. +Eve<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a> went within; she cleared the fallen leaves from the grave of the +little girl. While she was thus occupied, steps came up the path, and +Hollis appeared; making a sign to Eve, he offered his arm quickly to +Cicely. “Mrs. Morrison, the judge is in a great hurry to have you come +back.”</p> + +<p>“Grandpa?” said Cicely. “Is he ill?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he is very ill indeed,” replied Hollis, decidedly.</p> + +<p>“Poor grandpa!” said Cicely. “Let us hurry.”</p> + +<p>They went back to the camp. Reaching it, he took her with rapid step to +her lodge, where the judge and Mrs. Mile were waiting. “You are ill, +grandpa?” said Cicely, going to him.</p> + +<p>“I am already better.”</p> + +<p>“But not by any means well yet,” interposed Mrs. Mile; “he must stay +here in this lodge, and you shouldn’t leave him for one moment, Mrs. +Morrison.”</p> + +<p>Porley and Jack were also present; every now and then Mrs. Mile would +give Porley a peremptory sign.</p> + +<p>Hollis and Eve stood together near the door talking in low tones. “A +muss among the Indians,” Hollis explained. “Those we brought along are +peaceful enough if left to themselves; in fact, they are cowards. But a +dangerous fellow, a <i>very</i> dangerous scamp, joined them this morning on +the sly, and they’ve got hold of some whiskey; I guess he brought it. I +thought I’d better tell you; the cook is staying with them to keep +watch, and the judge and I are on the lookout here; I don’t think there +is the least real danger; still you’d better keep under cover. If Paul +comes, we shall be all right.”</p> + +<p>“Do you expect him to-day?”</p> + +<p>“Sorter; but I’m not sure.”<a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a></p> + +<p>A drunken shout sounded through the forest.</p> + +<p>“An Indian spree is worse than a white man’s,” remarked Hollis. “But you +ain’t afraid, I see that!” He looked at her admiringly.</p> + +<p>“I’m only afraid of one thing in the world,” replied Eve, taking, +woman-like, the comfort of a confession which no one could understand.</p> + +<p>“Can you shoot?” Hollis went on.—“Fire a pistol?”</p> + +<p>She blanched.</p> + +<p>“There, now, never mind. ’Twas only a chance question.”</p> + +<p>“No, tell me. I can shoot perfectly well; as well as a man.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll give you my pistol. You’ll have no occasion to use it, not +the least in the world; but still you’ll be armed.”</p> + +<p>“Put it on the table. I can get it if necessary.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll go outside. I’m to stroll about where I can see the cook; +that’s my cue; and you can stay near the door, where you can see me; +that’s yours. And the judge, he has the back window, one of the guns is +there. All right? Bon-sor, then.” He went out.</p> + +<p>Eve sat down by the door. The judge kept up a conversation with Cicely, +and anxiously played quiet games with little Jack, until both fell +asleep; Cicely fell asleep very easily now, like a child. Mrs. Mile +lifted her in her strong arms and laid her on the bed, while Porley took +Jack; poor Porley was terribly frightened, but rather more afraid of +Mrs. Mile, on the whole, than of the savages.</p> + +<p>By-and-by a red light flashed through the trees outside; the Indians had +kindled a fire.<a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a></p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later Hollis paused at the door. “Paul’s coming, I guess; +I hear paddles.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you’ll go down and meet him?” said Eve.</p> + +<p>“No, I can’t leave the beat.”</p> + +<p>“I can take your place for that short time.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you show your head outside—don’t you!” said Hollis, quickly.</p> + +<p>Eve looked at him. “I shall go down to the beach myself, if you don’t.” +Her eyes were inflexible.</p> + +<p>All Hollis’s determination left him. “The judge can take this beat, +then; you can guard his window,” he said, in a lifeless tone. He went +down to the beach.</p> + +<p>All of them—the judge, Mrs. Mile, and Porley, as well as Eve—could +hear the paddles now; the night, save for the occasional shouts, was +very still. Eve stood at the window. “Will the Indians hear him, and go +down?”</p> + +<p>But they did not hear him. In another five minutes Paul had joined them.</p> + +<p>Hollis, who was with him, gave a hurried explanation. “We’re all right, +now that you are here,” he concluded; “we are more than a match for the +drunken scamps if they should come prowling up this way. When the +whiskey’s out of ’em to-morrow, we can reduce ’em to reason.”</p> + +<p>“Why wait till to-morrow?” said Paul.</p> + +<p>“No use getting into a fight unnecessarily.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t propose to fight,” Paul answered.</p> + +<p>“They’re eleven, Tennant,” said the judge; “you wouldn’t have time to +shoot them all down.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to shoot,” Paul responded. He went towards the door.<a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a></p> + +<p>“Don’t go,” pleaded Eve, interposing.</p> + +<p>He went straight on, as though he had not heard her.</p> + +<p>“I can’t move him,” she thought, triumphantly. “I can no more move him +than I could move a mountain!”</p> + +<p>Paul was gone. Hollis followed him to the door. “We two must stay here +and protect the women, you know,” said the judge, warningly.</p> + +<p>“Why, certainly,” said Hollis; “of course,—the ladies.” He came back.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Eve hurried out.</p> + +<p>Paul reached the Indian quarters, and walked up to the fire. He gave a +look round the circle.</p> + +<p>The newly arrived man, the one whom Hollis had called dangerous, sprang +to his feet.</p> + +<p>Paul took him by the throat and shook the breath out of him.</p> + +<p>When Hollis came hurrying up, the thing was done; the other Indians, +abject and terrified, were helping to bind the interloper.</p> + +<p>“The cook can watch them now,” said Paul. “I suppose there’s no supper, +with all this row?”</p> + +<p>Hollis gave a grim laugh. “At a pinch—like this, I don’t mind cooking +one.”</p> + +<p>Paul turned. And then he saw Eve behind him.</p> + +<p>Hollis had gone to the kitchen; he did not wish to see them meet.</p> + +<p>“You did absurdly wrong to come, Eve,” said Paul, going to her. “What +possible good was it? And if there had been real danger, you would have +been in the way.”</p> + +<p>“You are trembling; are you so frightened, then?” he went on, his voice +growing softer.<a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a></p> + +<p>“I am not frightened now.”</p> + +<p>They went towards the lodge.</p> + +<p>“It’s a desolate life you’ve arranged for me, Eve,” he said, going back +to his subject, the Indians already forgotten. “I’m not to say anything +to you; I’m to have nothing; and so we’re to go on apparently forever. +What is it you are planning for? I am sure I don’t know. I know you care +for me, and I don’t believe that you’ll find anything sweeter than the +love I could give you,—if you would let me.”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing sweeter,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“Have you given up keeping me off?” He drew her towards him. She did not +resist.</p> + +<p>In her heart rose the cry, “For one day, for one hour, let me have it, +have it all! Then—”</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII.</h2> + +<p>O<small>N</small> the second day after the alarm, Paul took the Indians back to Port +aux Pins, and dismissed them, after handing the ringleader to the proper +authorities; the others slunk away with their long black hair hanging +down below their white man’s hats, their eagle profiles, in spite of +fierceness of outline, entirely unalarming. Paul then selected half a +dozen Irishmen, the least dilapidated he could find (the choice lay +between Indians and Irishmen), and brought them to Jupiter Light to take +the place of the crestfallen aborigines. He remained there a few days to +see that all went well; then he returned to Port aux Pins for a week’s +stay. “Come a little way up the lake to meet me,” he said to Eve, as he<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a> +bade her good-by; “I shall be along about four o’clock next Wednesday +afternoon.”</p> + +<p>His manner still remained a little despotic. But to women of strong will +despotism is attractive; when a despotism of love, it is enchanting. +Eve’s feeling was, “Oh, to have at last found some one who is stronger +than I!”</p> + +<p>Even now not for a moment did she bend her opinions, her decisions, to +his, of her own accord; each time it was simply that she was conquered; +after contesting the point as strongly as she could, how she gloried in +feeling herself overridden at last! She would look at Paul with +delighted eyes, and laugh in triumph. To have yielded because she loved +him, would have had a certain sweetness; but to be conquered unyielding, +that was a satisfaction whose intensity could go no further.</p> + +<p>Since that walk in the darkness from the Indian quarters to Cicely’s +lodge, when, suddenly, she had let her love have its way, she had +allowed herself to be carried along by chance events whithersoever they +pleased; she had defied conscience, she had accepted the bliss that hung +temptingly before her; she did not think, she only enjoyed. Once or +twice she had sent forth mentally this defiance,—“If you feel as I do, +<i>then</i> you may judge me!” To whom was this said? To Fate? To the world +at large? In reality it was said to all women who in that summer of 1869 +were young enough to love: “If you <i>can</i> feel as I do, then you may +judge me.” But it was only once or twice that this mood had come to her, +only once or twice that she thought of anything but Paul; his offered +hand taken, her acceptance of it was at least superb in its +completeness; there was<a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a> no looking back, no fear, no regret; nothing +but the fulness of joy.</p> + +<p>Still sweeter was it to feel that, deeply as she loved, she was loved as +deeply. Paul might be imperious, he might be negligent in explaining +things, and in other small ways; but there was nothing negligent in his +passion. His genius for directness, which puzzled Hollis in other +matters, showed itself also here; he had little to say—that was +possible—but no woman could have misunderstood the language of his eyes +or of the touch of his hand; or fail to be thrilled by it. The feeling +that possessed him went straight to its end, namely, Eve Bruce for his +wife; the same Eve whom he had not liked at all at first; to whom he had +found it difficult only a few weeks before to write a short letter. This +inconsistency did not trouble him; love had arrived, had descended upon +him in some way, he knew not how, had taken possession of him by force +and forever—he recognized that, and did not contest it. Women are only +women: this had been one of the settled convictions in the depths of his +mind, and it was a conviction not much changed even now; yet this same +Paul, with his mediæval creed, made a lover much more invincible than a +hundred, a thousand other men, who would have said, perhaps, that they +revered women more. “Revered?” Paul would have answered, “I don’t revere +Eve, I <i>love</i> her!”</p> + +<p>Whatever name he gave it, she knew that she held the joy of his life in +her hands, that he would come to her for this—had already come; and +that it always would be so. This was happiness enough for her.</p> + +<p>This happiness had existed but ten days. But these days had seemed like +months of joy, she had<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a> lived each moment so fully. “Sejed, Prince of +Ethiopia, vowed to have three days of uninterrupted happiness—” she +might have remembered the old fable and its ending. But she remembered +nothing, she scorned to remember; let the unhappy, the unloved, think of +the past; she would drink in all the sunshine of the present, she would +live, live!</p> + +<p>“Row a little way up the lake to meet me,” Paul had said. At half-past +three of the afternoon he had indicated, she went to the beach; one of +the Irishmen, under her direction, began to push down a canoe. The open +way in which she did this—in which she had done everything since that +night—was in itself an effectual disguise; no one thought it remarkable +that she should be going to meet Paul. As she was about to take her +place in the canoe, Hollis appeared.</p> + +<p>“Going far? We don’t know much about that Paddy,” he said, in an +undertone.</p> + +<p>“Only to meet Paul.”</p> + +<p>“If he’s late, you may have to go a good way.”</p> + +<p>“He won’t be late.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he may be,” answered Hollis, patiently. “I guess I’ll take you, +if you’ll let me; and then, when we meet, I’ll come back with his man in +the other canoe.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” Eve responded. She did not comment upon the terms of his +offer, she did not care what he thought. She took her place, and he +paddled westward.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful afternoon; a slight coolness, which made itself felt +through the sunshine, showed that the short Northern summer was +approaching its end. As she sat with her back to the prow, she<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a> was +obliged to turn her head to look for the other canoe; and this she did +many times. After one of these quests, she saw that Hollis’s eyes were +upon her.</p> + +<p>“Is there any change in me?” she asked, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Rather!”</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>But poor Hollis did not know how to say, “You are so much more +beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“It’s my white dress,” Eve suggested, in a somewhat troubled voice. “I +had it made in Port aux Pins. It’s only piqué.” She smoothed the folds +of the skirt for a moment, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“I guess white favors you,” answered Hollis, with what he would have +called a festive wave of his hand.</p> + +<p>Her mood had now changed. “It’s no matter, I’m not afraid!” She was +speaking her thoughts aloud, sure that he would not understand. But he +did understand.</p> + +<p>The other canoe came into sight after a while, shooting round a point; +Eve waved her handkerchief in answer to Paul’s hail; the two boats met.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hollis knows that you are to take me back,” said Eve, as eagerly as +a child.</p> + +<p>Paul glanced at Hollis. But the other man bore the look bravely. “Proud +to be of service,” he answered, waving his hand again, with two fingers +extended lightly. He changed places with Paul; Paul and Eve, in their +canoe, glided away.</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that Cicely, who had been asleep, opened her eyes. +Her lodge was quiet; Mrs. Mile was reading near the window, her seat +carefully placed so that the light should fall over her left shoulder +upon the page.<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a></p> + +<p>Cicely gazed at her for some time; then she jumped from the couch with a +quick bound. “It’s impossible to lie here another instant and see that +History of Windham! The next thing, you’ll be proposing to read it aloud +to me; you look exactly like a woman who loves to read aloud.” She began +to put on her shoes.</p> + +<p>“You are going for a walk? I shall be glad to go too,” answered Mrs. +Mile promptly, putting a marker in her book, and rising.</p> + +<p>“No,” responded Cicely; “I can’t have those boots of yours pounding +along beside me to-day, Priscilla Jane. Impossible.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I do declare!” said Mrs. Mile, reduced in her surprise to the +language of her youth. “They can’t pound much, Mrs. Morrison, in the +sand; and there’s nothing but sand here.”</p> + +<p>“They grind it down!” answered Cicely. “You can call grandpa, if you +don’t want me to go alone; but come with me to-day you shall not, you +clean, broad-faced, turn-out-your-toes, do-your-duty old relict of Abner +Whittredge Mile.” She looked at Mrs. Mile consideringly as she said +this, bringing out each word in a soft, clear tone.</p> + +<p>The judge was listlessly roving about the beach. Mrs. Mile gave him +Cicely’s request. “She is saying very odd things to-day, sir,” she +added, impersonally.</p> + +<p>The judge, alarmed, hurried to the lodge; Mrs. Mile could not keep up +with him.</p> + +<p>“Priscilla Jane is short-winded, isn’t she?” remarked Cicely, at the +lodge door, as he joined her. “Whenever she comes uphill, she always +stops, and pretends to admire the view, while she pants,<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a> ‘What a +beautiful scene! What a <i>privilege</i> to see it!’”</p> + +<p>The judge grinned; he too had heard Mrs. Mile speak of “privileges.”</p> + +<p>“Come for a walk, grandpa,” Cicely went on. She took his arm and they +went away together, followed by the careful eyes of the nurse, who had +paused at the top of the ascent.</p> + +<p>“This is a ruse, grandpa,” Cicely said, after a while. “I wanted to take +a walk alone, and she wouldn’t let me; but you will.”</p> + +<p>“Why alone, my child?”</p> + +<p>“Because I’m always being watched; I’m just like a person in a cell, +don’t you know, with one of those little windows cut in the door, +through which the sentinel outside can always look in; I am <i>never</i> +alone.”</p> + +<p>“It must be dreadful,” the judge answered, with conviction.</p> + +<p>“Wait till you have seen Priscilla Jane in her night-gown,” said Cicely, +with equal conclusiveness.</p> + +<p>“Heaven forbid!” said the judge, with a shrill little chuckle. Then he +turned and looked at her; she seemed so much like her old self.</p> + +<p>“You will let me go, grandpa?” She put up her face and kissed him.</p> + +<p>“If you will promise to come back soon.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will.”</p> + +<p>He let her go on alone. She looked back and smiled once or twice; then +he lost sight of her; he returned to the beach by a roundabout way, in +order to deceive Priscilla Jane; he was almost as much pleased as Cicely +to outwit her.</p> + +<p>Cicely went on through the forest; she walked<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a> slowly, not stopping to +gather flowers as usual. After a while her vague glance rested upon two +figures in the distance. She stopped, and as, by chance, she was +standing close beside the trunk of a large tree, her own person was +concealed. The two figures were coming in her direction, they drew +nearer, they paused; and then there followed a picture as old as Paris +and Helen, as old as Tristram and Isolde: a lover taking in his arms the +woman he adores. And it was Paul Tennant who was the lover; it was Eve +who looked up at him with all her heart in her eyes.</p> + +<p>A shock passed over Cicely, the expression of her face changed rapidly +as her gaze remained fixed upon Eve: first, surprise; then a strange +quick anger; then perplexity. She left her place, and went rapidly +forward.</p> + +<p>Eve saw her first, she drew herself away from Paul; but immediately she +came back to him, laying her hand on his shoulder as if to hold him, to +keep him by her side.</p> + +<p>“Paul,” said Cicely, still looking at Eve, “something has come to me; +Eve told me that she did a dreadful thing.” And now she transferred her +gaze to Paul, looking at him with earnestness, as if appealing to him to +lighten her perplexity.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear; let us go back to the camp,” said Paul, soothingly.</p> + +<p>“Wait till I have told you all. She came to me, and asked—I don’t know +where it was exactly?” And now she looked at Eve, inquiringly.</p> + +<p>Eve’s eyes met hers, and the deep antagonism of the expression roused +the dulled intelligence. “How you do hate me, Eve! It’s because you love +Paul.<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a> I don’t see how Paul can like you, when you were always so hard +to Ferdie; for from the first she was hard to him, Paul; from the very +first. I remember—“</p> + +<p>Eve, terrified, turned away, thus releasing Cicely from the spell of her +menacing glance.</p> + +<p>Cicely paused; and then went back to her former narrative confusedly, +speaking with interruptions, with pauses. “She came to me, Paul, and she +asked, ‘Cicely, do you know how he died?’ And I said, ‘Yes; there were +two negroes.’ And she answered me, ‘No; there were no negroes—’”</p> + +<p>“Dreams, Cicely,” said Paul, kindly. “Every one has dreams like that.”</p> + +<p>“No. I have a great many dreams, but this was not one of them,” +responded Cicely. “Wait; it will come to me.”</p> + +<p>“Take her back to the camp; carry her,” said Eve, in a sharp voice.</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’ll come without that,” Paul answered, smiling at the peremptory +tone.</p> + +<p>“You go first, then. I will bring her.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t leave me alone with Eve,” pleaded Cicely, shrinking close to +Paul.</p> + +<p>“Take her back,” said Eve. And her voice expressed such acute suffering +that Paul did his best to content her.</p> + +<p>“Come,” he said, gently, taking Cicely’s hand.</p> + +<p>“A moment,” answered Cicely, putting her other hand on Paul’s arm, as if +to hold his attention. “And then she said: ‘Don’t you remember that we +escaped through the woods to the north point, and that you tried to push +off the boat, and couldn’t. Don’t you remember that gleam of the candle +down the dark road?’”<a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a></p> + +<p>Eve made an involuntary movement.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what candle she could have been thinking of!” pursued Cicely, +in a musing voice. “There are a great many candles in the Catholic +churches, that I know.”</p> + +<p>Eve looked across at Paul with triumph in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“And she said that a baby climbed up by one of the seats,” Cicely went +on. “And that this man—I don’t know who he was, exactly—made a dash +forward—” Here she lost the thread, and stopped. Then she began again: +“She took me away ever so far—we went in a steamboat; and Ferdie died +all alone! You <i>can’t</i> like her for that, Paul; you can’t!” Her face +altered. “Why don’t I see him over there on the other beach?” she asked, +quickly.</p> + +<p>“You see?” said Eve, with trembling lips.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Paul, watching the quivering motion. “We haven’t had our +walk, Eve; remember that.”</p> + +<p>“I can come out again. After we have got her back.”</p> + +<p>Cicely had ceased speaking. She turned and searched Eve’s face with eyes +that dwelt and lingered. “How happy you look, Eve! And yet I am sure you +have no right to be happy, I am sure there is some reason—The trouble +is that I can’t remember what it is! Perhaps it will come to me yet,” +she added, threateningly.</p> + +<p>Paul, drew her away; he took her back to the camp.</p> + +<p>That evening, Eve came to him on the beach.</p> + +<p>“Do you love me? Do you love me the same as ever?” she said.</p> + +<p>He could scarcely hear her.<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a></p> + +<p>“Do you think I have had time to change since afternoon?” he asked, +laughing.</p> + +<p>And then life came back to the woman by his side, came in the red that +flushed her cheeks and her white throat, in her revived breath.</p> + +<p>“Paul,” she said, after a while, “send Cicely home; send her home with +her grandfather, she can travel now without danger.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t desert Cicely,” said Paul, surprised.</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t be desertion; you can always help her. And she would be +much happier there than here.”</p> + +<p>“She’s not going to be very happy anywhere, I am afraid.”</p> + +<p>“The judge would be happier, too,” said Eve, shifting her ground.</p> + +<p>“I dare say. Poor old man!”</p> + +<p>“A winter in Port aux Pins would kill him,” Eve continued.</p> + +<p>“I intended to take them south before the real winter, the deep snow.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Mile could go now. And—and perhaps Mr. Hollis.”</p> + +<p>“Kit? What could Kit do down there?”</p> + +<p>“Marry Miss Sabrina,” suggested Eve, with a sudden burst of wild +laughter, in which Paul joined.</p> + +<p>“They are all to go, are they? But you and I are not to go; is that your +plan?” he went on.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>He kissed her. “Paul Tennant and his wife will take Cicely south +themselves,” he said, stroking her hair caressingly. “It’s always +braided so closely, Eve; how long is it when down?”</p> + +<p>But she did not hear these whispered words; she<a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a> drew herself away from +him with passionate strength. “No, she must go with some one else; she +can go with any one you please; we can have two nurses, instead of one. +But you—you must not go; you must stay with me.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Eve, I hardly know you! Why do you feel so about poor little +Cicely? Why strike a person who’s down?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes—down; that is what you all say. Yet she has had everything, +even if she has lost it now; and some people go through all their lives +without one single thing they really care for. She shall not rob me of +this, I will not let her. I defy her; I defy her!”</p> + +<p>“She shall go back to Romney,” said Paul. What these disagreements +between the two women were about, he did not know. His idea was that he +would marry Eve as soon as possible—within the next ten days; and then, +after they were married, he would tell her that it was best that they +should take Cicely south themselves. She would see the good sense of his +decision, she would not dispute his judgment when once she was his wife; +she could not have any real dislike for poor little Cicely, that was +impossible.</p> + +<p>Eve came back to him humbly enough. “I am afraid you do not like my +interfering with your plans?” she said.</p> + +<p>“You may interfere as much as you like,” answered Paul, smiling.<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII.</h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> next day Paul started at dawn for Port aux Pins, he wished to make +the house ready for his wife; he had not much money, but there was one +room in the plain cottage which should be beautiful. No suspicion came +to him that there would be any difficulty in making it beautiful; his +idea was simply that it was a matter of new furniture.</p> + +<p>He reached Port aux Pins at night, and let himself into his cottage with +his key; lighting a candle, he went to his room. He had never been +dissatisfied with this simple apartment, he was not dissatisfied now; +there was a good closet, where he could hang up his clothes; there was a +broad shelf, where he could put his hand in the dark upon anything which +he might want; there was his iron bedstead, and there was his white-pine +bureau; two wooden chairs; a wash-hand stand, with a large bowl; a huge +tin pail for water, a flat bath-tub in position on the floor, and plenty +of towels and sponges—what could man want more?</p> + +<p>But a woman would want more; and he gave a little laugh, which had a +thrill in it, as he thought of Eve standing there, and looking about her +at his plain masculine arrangements. The bare floor would not please +her, perhaps; he must order a carpet. “Turkey,” he thought, vaguely; he +had heard the word, and supposed that it signified something very light +in color, with a great many brilliant roses. “Perhaps there ought to be +a few more little things,”<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a> he said to himself, doubtfully. Then, after +another moment’s survey: “But I needn’t be disturbed, she’ll soon fill +it full of tottlish little tables and dimity; she’ll flounce everything +with white muslin, and tie everything with blue ribbons; she’ll overflow +into the next room too, this won’t be enough for her. Perhaps I’d better +throw the two into one, with a big fireplace—I know she likes big +fireplaces; if it’s as large as that, I sha’n’t be suffocated, even with +all her muslin.” And, with another fond laugh, he turned in.</p> + +<p>The morning after Paul’s departure, Eve did not go near Cicely; she +asked Mrs. Mile, in a tone which even that unimaginative woman found +haughty, how Mrs. Morrison was. (In reality the haughtiness hid a +trembling fear.)</p> + +<p>“She seems better, Miss Bruce, as regards her physical state. Truth +compels me to add, however, that she says extremely irrational things.”</p> + +<p>“What things?” asked Eve, with a pang of dread. For the things which +Mrs. Mile would call irrational might indicate that Cicely was herself +again, Mrs. Mile’s idea of the rational being always the commonplace.</p> + +<p>“When she first woke, ma’am, she said, ‘Oh, what a splendid wind!—how +it does blow! I must go out and run and run. Can you run, Priscilla +Jane?’—when my name, ma’am, is Priscilla Ann. Seeing that she was so +lively, I began to tell her a dream which I had had. She interrupted me: +‘Dreams are the reflections of our thoughts by day, Priscilla Jane. I +know your thoughts by day; they are wearing. I don’t want repetitions of +them by night, I should be ground to powder.’ Now, ma’am, could anything +be more irrational?”<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a></p> + +<p>“She is herself again!” thought Eve. She went off into the forest, and +did not return until the noon meal was over. Going to the kitchen, she +ate some bread, she was fond of dry bread; coming back after this frugal +repast, she still avoided Cicely’s lodge, she went down to the beach. +Here her restlessness ceased for the moment; she sat looking over the +water, her eyes not seeing it, seeing only Paul. After half an hour, +Hollis, with simulated carelessness, passed that way and stopped. As +soon as he saw her face he said to himself, “They are to be married +immediately!”</p> + +<p>“We sha’n’t be staying much longer at Jupiter Light, I guess,” he said +aloud, in a jocular tone.</p> + +<p>“No,” Eve answered. “The summer is really over,” she added, as if in +explanation.</p> + +<p>“Don’t look much like it to-day.”</p> + +<p>She made no reply.</p> + +<p>“Paul went back to Potterpins rather in a hurry, didn’t he?” pursued +Hollis, playing with his misery.</p> + +<p>“Yes.—He has a good deal to do,” she continued. If he could not resist +playing with his misery, neither could she help exulting in her +happiness, parading it for her own joy in spoken words; it made it more +real.</p> + +<p>“Good deal to do? He didn’t tell me about it; perhaps I could have +helped him,” Hollis went on awkwardly, but looking at her with all his +heart in his eyes—his poor, hungry, unsatisfied old heart.</p> + +<p>“You <i>could</i> be of use to us,” said Eve, suddenly; (“Us!” thought +Hollis.)—“the very greatest, Mr. Hollis. If you would go south with +Judge Abercrombie and Mrs. Morrison it would be everything. They will +probably go in a week or ten days, and<a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a> Mrs. Mile accompanies them; but +if you could go too, it would be much safer.”</p> + +<p>“And you to stay in Port aux Pins with Paul,” thought Hollis. “I don’t +grudge it to you, Evie, God knows I don’t—may you be very happy, sweet +one! But I shall have to get out of this all the same. I’m ashamed of +myself, old fellow that I am, but I can’t stand it, I can’t! I shall +have to clear out. I’ll go west.”</p> + +<p>Eve, meanwhile, was waiting for his reply. “Of course, Miss Bruce,” he +answered aloud, “should like nothing better than a little run down +South. Why, the old judge and me, we’ll make a regular spree of it!” And +he slapped his leg in confirmation.</p> + +<p>Eve gave him a bright smile by way of thanks. But she was too much +absorbed to talk long with anybody, and presently she left him, taking a +path through the woods.</p> + +<p>In fifteen minutes her restlessness brought her back again. She stopped +at the edge of the camp; Porley, near by, was making “houses”—that is, +squares and pyramids of the little pebbles of the beach, which Master +Jack demolished when completed, with the air of a conqueror. “Porley, go +and ask the nurse how Mrs. Morrison is now;—whether she is more quiet.”</p> + +<p>“Mis’ Morrison, she’s ebber so much weller to-day,” volunteered Porley. +“When she <i>ain’t</i> so quiet, Miss Bruce—droppin’ off inter naps all de +time—<i>den</i> she’s weller.”</p> + +<p>“Do as I tell you,” said Eve.</p> + +<p>The girl went off.</p> + +<p>“House,” demanded Jack.</p> + +<p>Eve took him on her shoulder instead.<a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a></p> + +<p>“Sing to Jacky; poor, <i>poor</i> Jacky!” said the child, gleefully.</p> + +<p>“Mis’ Mile, she say Mis’ Morrison done gone ter sleep dish yere minute,” +reported Porley, with a crestfallen air, returning.</p> + +<p>Eve’s spirits rose. “Oh, Jack, naughty boy!” She laughed convulsively, +lifting up her shoulder, as the child tried to insert one of his pebbles +under her linen collar, selecting a particularly ticklish spot on her +throat for the purpose.—“Do you want to go out on the lake?”</p> + +<p>Jack dropped his pebble; he was always wild with delight at the prospect +of a voyage. Porley picked up his straw hat, and brought his little +coat, in case the air should grow cool; in ten minutes they were afloat. +Eve turned the canoe down the lake, rowing eastward.</p> + +<p>After a voyage of twenty minutes, she headed the boat shoreward and +landed; the woods hereabout had a gray-green look which tempted her; +they brought back the memory of that first walk with Paul. “See to +Jack,” she said to Porley briefly, lifting the child safely to the +beach. “I shall be back soon.” Entering the wood, she walked on at +random, keeping within sight of the water.</p> + +<p>She was lost in a day-dream, one of those day-dreams which come +sometimes to certain temperaments with such vividness that the real +world disappears; she was with Paul, she was looking at him, his arm was +round her, their future life together unrolled itself before her day by +day, hour by hour, in all its details; in her happiness, all remembrance +of anything else vanished away.</p> + +<p>How long this state lasted she never knew. At a<a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a> certain point a distant +cry crossed the still ecstasy; but it reached her vaguely, it did not +bring her back. A second summons was more distinct; but it seemed an +impertinence which it was not necessary to answer. A third time came the +sound, and now there were syllables: “Miss E-eve! Miss E-eve!” Then, a +moment later, “Oh, <i>Ba-by</i>!” She recognized the shrillness of a negro +woman’s voice—it was Porley. “Baby?” That could only mean Jack! The +trance was over, she felt as if a whip had been brought suddenly down +upon her shoulders. She rushed to the lake, and from there along the +beach towards the spot where she had left the child.</p> + +<p>The screams grew louder. A bend hid that part of the beach from her +view; would she never reach the end of that bend! She was possessed by a +great fear. “Oh, don’t let anything happen to baby!” She could not have +told herself to whom she was appealing.</p> + +<p>At last she reached the curve, she saw what had happened: the child, +alone in the canoe, had been carried out to deep water.</p> + +<p>Porley, frantic with grief, had waded out as far as she could; she was +standing with the water up to her chin, sobbing aloud. Eve’s flushed +face turned white. She beckoned to Porley to come to her. Then she +forced herself to stand motionless, in order to recover her breath. As +Porley came up, “Stop crying!” she commanded. “We must not frighten him. +Go back under the trees where he cannot see you, and sit there quietly; +don’t speak.”</p> + +<p>When she was left alone, she went up the beach until she was on a line +with the canoe; the boat<a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a> moved waywardly and slowly, but it was being +carried all the time still farther from the shore. “Jacky, are you +having a good time out there?” she called, with a smiling face, as +though the escapade had been his own, and he had cleverly outwitted +them.</p> + +<p>There was not a grain of the coward in the child. “Ess,” he called back, +triumphantly. He was sitting on a folded shawl in the bottom of the +canoe, holding on with his hands to the sides; his eyes came just above +its edge.</p> + +<p>“Aunty Eve is going to get a boat and come out after you,” Eve went on; +“then we’ll go fishing. But Jack must sit perfectly still, or else she +won’t come; perfectly still. Does Jacky hear?”</p> + +<p>“Ess,” called Jack again.</p> + +<p>“If you are tired, put your head down and go to sleep. Aunty Eve will +come, soon if you are still; not if you move about.”</p> + +<p>“I’s still,” called Jack, in a high key.</p> + +<p>“If there was only a man here!—a man could swim out and bring the boat +in,” she thought, wringing her hands, and then stopping lest Jack should +see the motion. She did not allow herself to think—“If <i>Paul</i> were only +here!” It was on Paul’s account, to be able to think of him by herself, +to dream of their daily life together—it was for this that she had left +her brother’s child on that solitary beach, with only a careless negro +girl to watch over him! But there was no man near, and there was no +second boat. The canoe was already visibly farther away; little Jack’s +eyes, looking at her, were becoming indistinct, she could see only the +outline of his head and the yellow of his curls. She waved her hand to +him and sang, clearly and gayly:<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a></p> + +<p class="poem"> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">“Row the boat, row the boat, up to the strand;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0em;">Before our door there is dry land—”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>And Jack answered with a distant “Ess.” Then he tried to go on with it. +“Who pums idder, all booted an’ spur-r-rd,” he chanted, straining his +little lungs to the utmost, so that his auntie should hear him.</p> + +<p>The tears poured down Eve’s cheeks as she heard the baby voice; she knew +he could not see them. For an instant, she thought of trying to swim out +to him herself. “I can swim. It isn’t very far.” She began to unbutton +her boots. But should she have the strength to bring him in, either in +the canoe or in her arms? And if she should sink, there would be no one +to save Jack. She rebuttoned her boots and ran to Porley. “Go to the +beach, and walk up and down where Jack can see you. Call to him once in +a while, but not too often; call gayly, don’t let him see that you are +frightened; if he thinks you are frightened, he will become frightened +himself and move about; then he will upset the boat. Do you understand +what I mean? I am going back to the camp for another canoe. Keep him in +sight; and try—do try to be sensible.”</p> + +<p>She was off. Without much hope she began her race. Before she passed +beyond hearing, Porley’s voice came to her: “Hi-yi, Jack! Yo’re kyar’in +on now, ain’t yer? Splendid fun, sho! Wisht I was ’long!” And then +followed a high chuckle, which Porley intended as a laugh. At least the +girl had understood.</p> + +<p>Eve could run very swiftly; her light figure, with its long step, made +running easy to her. Yet each minute was now so precious that +instinctively she used every precaution: she let her arms hang +lifelessly,<a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a> so that no energy should be spent in poising them; she kept +her lips apart, and her eyes fixed on the beach about two yards in +advance of her, so that she could select as she ran the best places for +her feet, and avoid the loose stones. Her slender feet, too (undressed +they were models for a sculptor), aided her by their elasticity; she +wore a light boot, longer than her foot, and the silken web of her +stocking was longer, so that her step was never cramped. But she could +not run as rapidly as her canoe had skimmed the water under her strong +strokes when it had brought her here; and that voyage had lasted twenty +minutes; she remembered this with dread. For a while she ran +rapidly—too rapidly; then, feeling that her breath was labored, she +forced herself to slacken her pace and make it more regular; as much as +possible like a machine. Thus she ran on. Once she was obliged to stop. +Then she fell into a long swinging step, throwing her body forward a +little from right to left as her weight fell now upon one foot, now upon +the other, and this change was such a relief that she felt as if she +could run the remaining distance with comparative ease. But before she +reached the camp, she had come to the end of all her arrangements and +experiments; she was desperate, panting.</p> + +<p>“If I can only keep on until they see me!”</p> + +<p>The camp had an unusually quiet look; so far as her eyes, injected with +red by the effort she had made, could see, there were no moving figures +anywhere; no one sitting on the benches; no one on the beach. Where were +all the people?—what could have become of them? Hollis and the +judge?—even the cook and the Irishmen? Nothing stirred; it<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a> seemed to +her as if the very leaves on the trees and the waters of the lake had +been struck by an unnatural calm. She came to the first stakes, where +the nets were sometimes spread out. The nets were not there now. Then +she came to the cistern—a sunken cask to which water was brought from +an ice-cold spring; still no sound. Then the wood-pile; the Irishmen had +evidently been adding to it that day, for an axe remained in a severed +trunk; but no one was there. Though she had kept up her pace without +break as she ran past these familiar objects, there was now a singing in +her ears, and she could scarcely see, everything being rimmed by the +hot, red blur which seemed to exhale from her own eyes. She reached the +line of lodges at last; leaving the beach, and going through the wood, +she went straight to Cicely’s door. It was closed. She opened it. +“Cicely!” she said, or rather her lips formed the name without a sound.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter? Where is Jack?” cried Cicely, springing up as soon +as she saw Eve’s face.</p> + +<p>They met, grasping each other’s hands.</p> + +<p>“Where is he? What have you done with him?” Cicely repeated, holding Eve +with a grasp of iron.</p> + +<p>Eve could not talk. But she felt the agony in the mother’s cry. “Safe,” +she articulated.</p> + +<p>Cicely relaxed her hold. Eve sank to her knees; thence to the floor.</p> + +<p>Cicely seemed to understand; she brought a pillow with business-like +swiftness, and placed it under Eve’s head; then she waited. Eve’s eyes +were closed; her throat and chest labored so, as she lay with her head +thrown back, that Cicely bent down and quickly took out the little +arrow-pin, and unbuttoned the<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a> top buttons of her dress. This relieved +Eve; the convulsive panting grew quiet.</p> + +<p>But with her first long breath she was on her feet again. “Come!” she +said. She opened the door and left the lodge, hurrying down to the +beach; thence she ran westward along the shore to the point where the +canoes were kept. Cicely ran by her side without speaking; they had no +need of words.</p> + +<p>Reaching the boats, Eve began to push one of them towards the water. +“Call Mr. Hollis;—go up to the edge of the wood and call,” she said to +Cicely, briefly.</p> + +<p>“Gone fishing,” Cicely responded, helping to push the boat on the other +side.</p> + +<p>At this moment some one appeared—one of the Irishmen.</p> + +<p>“Take him and follow in that other canoe,” said Eve. “We want all the +help we can get.”</p> + +<p>As they pushed off rapidly—three minutes had not passed since they left +the lodge—Priscilla Mile came hurrying down to the shore; she had been +taking her daily exercise—a brisk walk of half an hour, timed by her +watch. “Mrs. Morrison, Mrs. Morrison, where are you going? Take me with +you.”</p> + +<p>Cicely did not even look at her. “Go on,” she said to the man.</p> + +<p>Eve was paddling rapidly; the second canoe followed hers.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Mile found that the two boats kept on their course, she went +back to the lodge, put on her bonnet and shawl, and set off down the +beach in the direction in which they were going, walking with steady +steps, the shawl compactly pinned with two strong shawl-pins +representing beetles.<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a></p> + +<p>As soon as they were fairly afloat, Cicely called: “Where is Jack? Tell +me about it.”</p> + +<p>“Presently,” answered Eve, without turning her head.</p> + +<p>“No. <i>Now</i>!” said the mother, peremptorily.</p> + +<p>“He is out on the lake, in the canoe.”</p> + +<p>“Alone?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! and it’s getting towards night! Row faster; what is the matter with +you?” (This to the Irishman.) “Eve, wait; how far out is he?”</p> + +<p>“It’s very calm,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“But in the dark we can never find him,” wailed the mother, in a broken +voice.</p> + +<p>Eve made swift, tireless strokes. The Irishman could not keep up with +her.</p> + +<p>It was growing towards night, as Cicely had said; the days were shorter +now; clouds were gathering too, though the air and water remained +strangely still; the night would be dark.</p> + +<p>“Your arms are like willow twigs, you have no strength,” said Cicely to +the Irishman. “Hurry!”</p> + +<p>The man had plenty of strength, and was exerting every atom of it. Still +Eve kept ahead of him. “Oh, Jack!” she said to herself, “let me be in +time!” It was her brother to whom she was appealing.</p> + +<p>She reached the spot where she had left Porley; but there was no Porley +there. Without stopping, she paddled on eastward; Cicely’s canoe was now +some distance behind. Fifteen minutes more and she saw Porley, she rowed +in rapidly. “Where is he?”</p> + +<p>“Dair!” answered Porley, pointing over the darkening water with a +gesture that was tragic in its despair.<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a></p> + +<p>At first Eve saw nothing; then she distinguished a black speck, she +pointed towards it with her paddle.</p> + +<p>“Yass’m, dat’s him. I ’ain’t nebber take my yies off ’em,” said the +girl, crying.</p> + +<p>“Tell Mrs. Morrison. She’s coming,” said Eve. She turned her boat and +paddled out rapidly towards the speck.</p> + +<p>“If I only had matches—why didn’t I bring some? It will be dark soon. +But it’s so calm that nothing can have happened to him; he will be +asleep.” In spite of her pretended certainty, however, dread held her +heart as in a vise. “I won’t think—only row.” She tried to keep her +mind a blank, resorting to the device of counting her strokes with great +interest. On the light craft sped, with the peculiar skimming motion of +the Indian canoe, as if it were gliding on the surface of the water. The +twilight grew deeper.</p> + +<p>There came a little gust, lightning showed itself for an instant in the +bank of clouds across the southern sky. “There is going to be a storm.” +She stopped; the other boat, which had been following her swiftly, came +up.</p> + +<p>“Have you ever been out in a canoe in a storm?” she called to the +Irishman, keeping her own boat well away from Cicely’s.</p> + +<p>“No, mum.”</p> + +<p>“Take Mrs. Morrison back to shore, then, as fast as you can.”</p> + +<p>“Go on!” commanded Cicely, with flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>There came another gust. The man, perplexed by the contrary orders, made +wrong strokes; the boat careened, then righted itself.<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a></p> + +<p>“Take her back,” called Eve, starting onward again.</p> + +<p>“Follow that canoe!” said Cicely.</p> + +<p>The man tried to obey Cicely; to intensify his obedience he stood up and +paddled with his back bent. There came another flurry of wind; his boat +careened again, and he lost his balance, he gave a yell. For a moment +Eve thought that he had gone overboard. But he had only crouched. “Go +back—while you can,” she called, warningly.</p> + +<p>And this time he obeyed her.</p> + +<p>“Eve, take me with you—take me!” cried Cicely, in a tone that went to +the heart.</p> + +<p>“We needn’t both of us die,” Eve answered, calling back for the last +time.</p> + +<p>As she went forward on her course, lightning began to show itself +frequently in pallid forks on the dark cloud-bank. “If only there’s no +gale!” she thought. Through these minutes she had been able to +distinguish what she supposed was the baby’s canoe; but now she lost it. +She rowed on at random; then she began to call. Nothing answered. The +lightning grew brighter, and she blessed the flashes; they would show +her, perhaps, what she was in search of; with every gleam she scanned +the lake in a different direction. But she saw nothing. She called +again: “Jacky! Jack-y!” A great bird flew by, close over her head, and +startled her; its wings made a rushing sound. “Jack-y! Jack-y!” She +rowed on, calling loudly.</p> + +<p>It was now perfectly dark. Presently an unusually brilliant gleam +revealed for an instant a dark object on her left. She rowed towards it. +“Jacky, speak to Aunty Eve. Aunty Eve is close beside<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a> you.” She put her +whole heart into this cry; then she waited, breathless.</p> + +<p>From a distance came a sound, the sweetest which Eve Bruce had ever +heard. “Ess,” said Jack’s brave little voice.</p> + +<p>She tried to row towards it. Before she could reach the spot a wind +coming from the south drove her canoe back. “Jacky, Jacky, say yes +again.”</p> + +<p>“Ess,” said the voice, fainter, and farther away.</p> + +<p>The wind was stronger now, and it began to make a noise too, as it +crossed the lake.</p> + +<p>“Jacky, Jacky, you <i>must</i> answer me.”</p> + +<p>“Ess.”</p> + +<p>A crashing peal of thunder broke over their heads; when it had ceased, +she could hear the poor little lad crying. His boat must have drifted, +for his voice came from a new direction.</p> + +<p>“I am coming directly to you, Jacky,” she called, altering her course +rapidly.</p> + +<p>The thunder began again, and filled her ears. When it ceased, all was +still.</p> + +<p>“Jacky! Jacky!”</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>And now there came another cry: “Eve, where are you? Wait for me.” It +was Cicely.</p> + +<p>“This way,” called Eve.</p> + +<p>She never dreamed that Cicely was alone; she supposed that the Irishman +had taken heart of grace and ventured back. But presently a canoe +touched hers, and there in the night she saw Cicely all alone, like a +phantom. “Baby?” demanded Cicely, holding the edge of Eve’s boat.</p> + +<p>“I heard him only a moment ago,” answered Eve, as excited as herself. +“Jacky! Jacky!”<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a></p> + +<p>No reply.</p> + +<p>Then Cicely’s voice sounded forth clearly: “It’s mamma, Jack. Speak to +mamma.”</p> + +<p>“Mam-ma!” came the answer. A distant sound, but full of joy.</p> + +<p>Eve put her paddle in the water again. “Wait,” said Cicely. And she +stepped from her canoe into Eve’s, performing the difficult feat without +hesitation or tremor. The other canoe was abandoned, and Eve was off +with a strong stroke.</p> + +<p>“Call,” she said.</p> + +<p>Cicely called, and Jack answered.</p> + +<p>“Call again.”</p> + +<p>“His poor little throat will be so tired!” said Cicely, her own voice +trembling.</p> + +<p>“We <i>must</i>,” said Eve.</p> + +<p>“Jack-y!”</p> + +<p>“Ess.”</p> + +<p>On they went, never reaching him, though he answered four times; for, in +spite of the intensity of Eve’s exertion, the sound constantly changed +its direction. Cicely called to her child, she sang to him; she even +laughed. “How slow you are!” she said to Eve. “Don’t stop.”</p> + +<p>“I stopped to listen.”</p> + +<p>But presently they were both listening in vain. Jack’s voice had ceased.</p> + +<p>The wind now blew not in gusts, but steadily. Eve still rowed with all +her strength, in reality at random, though; with each new flash of +lightning she took a new direction, so that her course resembled the +spokes of a wheel.</p> + +<p>“He has of course fallen asleep,” said Cicely. “He is always so good +about going to bed.”<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a></p> + +<p>Their canoe now rose and fell perceptibly; the tranquillity of the lake +was broken, it was no longer gray glass, nor a black floor; first there +was a swell; then little waves showed themselves; by-and-by these waves +had crests. Eve, kneeling on the bottom, exerted all her intelligence to +keep the boat in the right position.</p> + +<p>“These canoes never tip over when left alone; it’s only when people try +to guide them,” said Cicely, confidently. “Now Jack’s just like no one; +he’s so very light, you know.”</p> + +<p>Words were becoming difficult, their canoe rose on the crest of one +wave, then plunged down into the hollow behind it; then rose on the +next. A light flared out on their left; it was low down, seeming below +their own level.</p> + +<p>“They have kindled—a fire—on the beach,” called Eve. She was obliged +to call now, though Cicely was so near.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Porley,” Cicely answered.</p> + +<p>They were not so far out as they had thought; the light of the fire +showed that. Perhaps they had been going round in a circle.</p> + +<p>Eve was now letting the boat drift; Jack’s canoe was drifting, the same +currents and wind might take theirs in the same direction; it was not +very long since they had heard his last cry, he could not be far away. +The lightning had begun to come in great sheets of white light; these +were blinding, but if one could bear to look, they lit up the surface of +the water for an instant with extraordinary distinctness. Cicely, from +her babyhood so impressionable to lightning, let its glare sweep over +her unmoved; but her beautiful eyes were near-sighted,<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a> she could not +see far. Eve, on the contrary, had strong eyesight, and after what +seemed a long time (it was five minutes), she distinguished a dark, low +outline very near at hand; she sent the boat in that direction with all +her might.</p> + +<p>“It’s Jack!” she called to Cicely.</p> + +<p>Cicely, holding on to the sides of the canoe, kept her head turned, +peering forward with her unseeing eyes into the alternating darkness and +dazzling glare. The flashes were so near sometimes that it seemed as if +they would sweep across them, touch them, and shrivel them up.</p> + +<p>Now they approached the other boat; they came up to it on the crest of a +wave. Cicely took hold of its edge, and the two boats went down into the +hollow behind together.</p> + +<p>“Sit—in the centre—as much—as you can,” Eve shouted. Then, being the +taller, she rose, and in the next flash looked within. There lay Jack in +the bottom, probably unconscious, a still little figure with a white +face.</p> + +<p>“He’s there,” she called, triumphantly. And then they went up on the +next wave together, and down again.</p> + +<p>“Slip—your hand—along—to the end,” Eve called.</p> + +<p>Cicely obeyed.</p> + +<p>The second canoe, which all her strength had scarcely been able to hold +alongside, now accompanied them more easily, towed by its stern. If it +could have followed them instead of accompanying them, that would have +been easier still; but Cicely’s seat was at the bow, and Eve did not +dare to risk a change of places; with the boat in tow, she paddled<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a> +towards the shore as well as she could, guided by the fire, which was +large and bright, poor Porley, owing to whose carelessness in the second +place the accident had occurred (Eve’s in the first place), expending in +the collecting of dry fuel all the energy of her repentance and her +grief. They were not very far out, but progress was difficult; Eve was +not an expert; she did not know how to allow for the opposition, the +dead weight, of the second canoe attached to the bow of her own; every +now and then, owing to her lack of skill, the wind would strike it, and +drive it from her so strongly that it seemed as if the connecting link, +Cicely’s little arm, would be drawn from its socket. The red glow of the +fire looked human and home-like to these wanderers,—should they ever +reach it? The waves grew more formidable as they approached the +beach,—they were like breakers; Eve did her best, yet their progress +seemed snail-like. At length, when they were so far in that she could +distinguish the figures of Porley and the Irishman outlined against the +fire, there came a breaker which struck the second canoe full on its +side, filling it with water. Cicely gave a wild shriek of rage as it was +forced from her grasp. At the same instant the aunt, leaving the paddle +behind her, sprang into the sinking craft, and, seizing the child, went +down with him into the dark lake.</p> + +<p>She came up again, grasping the side of the boat; with one arm she +lifted the boy, and gave him to his mother, an enormous effort, as his +little body was rigid and heavy—like death.</p> + +<p>And then they got ashore, they hardly knew how, though it took a long +time, Eve clinging to the stern<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> and Cicely paddling, her child at her +feet; the Irishman came to their assistance as soon as he could, the +wind drove them towards the beach; Porley helped when it came to the +landing. In reality they were blown ashore.</p> + +<p>Jack was restored. As Eve ceased her rubbing—she had worked over him +for twenty minutes—and gave him alive and warm again to his mother’s +arms, Cicely kissed her cheek. “Bend down your head, Eve; I want to tell +you that I forgive you everything. There is nothing the matter with me +now; I understand and know—all; yet I forgive you,—because you have +saved my child.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX.</h2> + +<p>P<small>RISCILLA</small> M<small>ILE</small>, close-reefed as to her skirts, and walking solidly, +reached the shipwrecked party soon after nine o’clock; as she came by +the beach, the brilliant light of Porley’s fire guided her, as it had +guided Cicely and Eve out on the dark lake. Priscilla asked no +questions, her keen eyes took in immediately Eve’s wet clothes and +Jack’s no clothes, the child being wrapped merely in a shawl. She said +to the Irishman, who was wet also: “Patrick Carty, you go back to the +camp, you run just as fast as you can split; tell them what’s happened, +and let them send for us as soon as they can. ’Taint going to rain much, +I guess.”</p> + +<p>The man hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Well, what are you about?” asked Mrs. Mile, walking up to him +threateningly, her beetle shawl-pins shining in the fire-light.<a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a></p> + +<p>The Irishman, who had been in a confused state ever since Cicely had +forced his canoe into the water again after he had hauled it up on the +beach, and had beaten his hands off fiercely with the oar when he had +tried to stop her progress—a little creature like that turning suddenly +so strong—answered, hurriedly, “It’s goin’ I am; ye can see it +yersilf!” and was off like a shot. “<i>Wan</i> attack from a fimmale will +do!” was his thought.</p> + +<p>The nurse then effected a change of dress; with the aid of part of her +own clothing and part of Cicely’s and Porley’s, she got Eve and Jack +into dry garments of some sort, Jack being wrapped in a flannel +petticoat. The wind had grown much more violent, but the strange +atmospheric conditions had passed away; the lightning had ceased. It was +now an ordinary gale, the waves dashed over the beach, and the wind +drove by with a shriek; but it was not cold. The four women sheltered +themselves as well as they could, Cicely holding Jack closely; she would +not let any one else touch him.</p> + +<p>A little after two o’clock the crouched group heard a sound, and Hollis +appeared in the circle of light shed by the flaring wind-swept fire. He +bore a load of provisions and garments in baskets, in a sack suspended +from his neck, in bags dangling from his arms, as well as in his hands +and pockets; he had even brought a tea-kettle; it was a wonder how he +had come so far with such a load, the wind bending him double. Priscilla +Mile made tea as methodically as though the open beach, with the roaring +water and the shrieking gale, had been a quiet room. Hollis watched them +eat with an eagerness so intense that unconsciously his face made +masticating movements<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a> in sympathy. When they had finished, a start +passed over him, as if he were awakening, and, making a trumpet of his +hands, he shouted to Cicely: “Must go now; ’f I don’t, the old +<i>judge</i> ’ll be trying to get here. Back—with <i>boat</i>—soon as <i>ca-a-an</i>.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take your <i>coat</i>, if you don’t mind,” said Mrs. Mile, shrieking at +him in her turn; “then Miss <i>Bruce</i> can have this <i>shawl</i>.” And she +tapped her chest violently to show him her meaning. Hollis denuded +himself, and started.</p> + +<p>With the first light of dawn he was back. They reached the camp about +ten o’clock the next morning.</p> + +<p>At three in the afternoon Cicely woke from a sleep of four hours. Her +first movement was to feel for Jack.</p> + +<p>Jack was sitting beside her, playing composedly with four spools and a +little wooden horse on rollers.</p> + +<p>“We’d better dress him now, hadn’t we?” suggested Mrs. Mile, coming +forward. She spoke in her agreeing voice; Mrs. Mile’s voice agreed +beforehand that her patients should agree with her.</p> + +<p>“I will dress him,” said Cicely, rising.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t, now, if I were you, Mrs. Morrison; you’re not strong +enough.”</p> + +<p>“Where is my dress?” asked Cicely, looking about her.</p> + +<p>“You don’t want anything, surely, but your pretty blue wrapper?” said +Mrs. Mile, taking it from its nail.</p> + +<p>“Bring me my thick dress and my walking-shoes, please.”</p> + +<p>They were brought.<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a></p> + +<p>Eve came in while Cicely was dressing.</p> + +<p>“Eve, who is this person?” Cicely demanded, indicating the nurse with a +sideward wave of her head.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m just a lady’s maid—they thought you’d better have one; Porley, +in that way, you know, isn’t good for much,” answered Mrs. Mile, +readily.</p> + +<p>“Whatever you are, I shall not need your services longer,” said Cicely. +“Do you think you could go to-night?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, ma’am; by the evening boat.”</p> + +<p>“There is no evening boat. I must have been ill a long while,—you talk +in such a wheedling manner. I am well now, at any rate, and you can +return to Port aux Pins whenever you like; no doubt you have been much +missed there.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mile, giving Eve a significant look, went out.</p> + +<p>The storm was over, but the air had turned much colder; the windows of +the lodge were closed. Eve seated herself by the east window.</p> + +<p>“I have been ill, then?” asked Cicely.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I have been out of my mind?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Eve answered again, in a listless voice.</p> + +<p>“I’m not so any longer,—you understand that?”</p> + +<p>“I understand,” Eve responded.</p> + +<p>Her cheeks were white, the lines of her face and figure had fallen; she +looked lifeless.</p> + +<p>Cicely stopped her work of dressing Jack, and gazed at her sister-in-law +for a moment or two; then she came and stood before her. “Perhaps you +didn’t understand what I said on the beach? I told you that I remembered +everything, knew everything. And that I forgave you because you had +saved baby; you jumped into the lake and saved him.” She<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a> paused a +moment; “I forgive you—yes; but never let us speak of it again—never +on this earth;—do you hear?” And, putting her hands on Eve’s shoulders, +she pressed the palms down violently, as emphasis.</p> + +<p>Then going back to Jack, she resumed the dressing. “It’s the strangest +thing in the world about a child. When it comes, you think you don’t +care about it—little red thing!—that you love your husband a million +times more, as of course in many ways you do. But a new feeling comes +too, a feeling that’s like no other; it takes possession of you whether +you want it to or not; it’s stronger than anything else—than life or +death. You would let yourself be cut to pieces, burned alive, for your +<i>child</i>. Something came burning right through me when I knew that Jacky +was in danger.—Never mind, Jacky, play away; mamma’s not frightened +now, and Jacky’s her own brave boy.—It made everything clear, and I +came to myself instantly. I shall never lose my senses again; though I +might want to, I’m so miserable.”</p> + +<p>“And I, who think you fortunate!” said Eve.</p> + +<p>Cicely turned her head and looked at her with parted lips.</p> + +<p>“Ferdie loved you—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he cared for others too,” said Cicely, bringing her little teeth +together. “I know more than you think;—than Paul thinks.” She went on +hurriedly with her task.</p> + +<p>A quiver had passed over Eve at the name. “You loved him, and he was +your husband. But Paul can never take <i>me</i> for his wife; you forgive, +but he couldn’t.”<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a></p> + +<p>“You love Paul, then; is that it?” said Cicely, turning round again. +“Now I remember—that day when I saw you in the woods. Why, Eve, he +<i>did</i> forgive you, he had you in his arms.”</p> + +<p>“He did not know. He does not know now.”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t told him?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>Cicely paused, consideringly. “No, you could not,” she said, with +conviction. “And he can never marry you.” She sat down on the side of +the bed and folded her hands.</p> + +<p>“Not when he knows,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“And were you going to deceive him, not let him know?”</p> + +<p>“That is what I tried to do,” said Eve, sombrely. “You were the only +person who knew (you knew because I had told you), and you were out of +your mind; his love came to me,—I took it.”</p> + +<p>“Especially as you loved him!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I loved him.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you do,” said Cicely; “now you won’t be so lofty. <i>Now</i> you +understand, perhaps, how I felt about Ferdie, and why I didn’t mind, no +matter what he did?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, now I understand.”</p> + +<p>“Go on; what made you change your mind? Was it because I had got back my +senses, and you were afraid I should tell?” She spoke with a jeer in her +voice.</p> + +<p>“No; it changed of itself when I saw baby out in that boat alone—my +brother’s poor little child. I said then,‘O, let me save him, and I’ll +give up everything!’”</p> + +<p>“And supposing that nothing had happened to<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a> Jack, and that I had not +got back my senses, how could you even then have married Paul, Eve +Bruce?—let let him take as his wife a woman who did what you did?”</p> + +<p>“What I did was not wrong,” said Eve, rising, a spot of red in each +cheek. She looked down upon little Cicely. “It was not wrong,” she +repeated, firmly.</p> + +<p>“‘Blood for blood’?” quoted Cicely, with another jeer.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is what Paul said,” Eve answered. And she sank down again, +her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>“You say you have given him up;—are you going to tell him the reason +why you do it?” pursued Cicely, with curiosity.</p> + +<p>“How can I?”</p> + +<p>“Well, it would keep him from pursuing you,—if he does pursue.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want him to stop!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! you’re not in earnest, then; you are going to marry him, after all? +See here, Eve, I’ll be good; I’ll never tell him, I’ll promise.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Eve, letting her hands fall; “I gave him up when I said, ‘If +I can only save baby!’” Her face had grown white again, her voice dull.</p> + +<p>“What are you afraid of? Hell? At least you would have had Paul here. +<i>I</i> should care more for that than for anything else.”</p> + +<p>“We’re alike!” said Eve.</p> + +<p>“If we are, do it, then; I should. It’s a muddle, but that is the best +way out of it.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t understand,” Eve replied. “What I’m afraid of is Paul +himself.”</p> + +<p>“When he finds out?”<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a></p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I told you I wouldn’t tell.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, any time; after death—in the next world.”</p> + +<p>“You believe in the next world, then?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I should take all the happiness I could get in this,” remarked +Cicely.</p> + +<p>“I care for it more than you do—more than you do?” said Eve, +passionately.</p> + +<p>Cicely gave a laugh of pure incredulity.</p> + +<p>“But I <i>cannot</i> face it—his finding out,” Eve concluded.</p> + +<p>Cicely gazed at her. “How handsome you are to-day! What are men, after +all? Poor things compared to <i>us</i>. What wouldn’t we do for them when we +love them?—what <i>don’t</i> we do? And what do they ever do for us in +comparison? Paul—he ought to be at your feet for such a love as you +have given him; instead of that, we both know that he <i>would</i> mind; that +he couldn’t rise above it, couldn’t forget. See here”—she ran to Eve, +and put her arms round her, excitedly—“supposing that he is better than +we think,—supposing that I should go to him and tell him the whole, and +that he should come here and say: ‘What difference does that make, Eve? +We will be married to-morrow.’” And she looked up at Eve, her dark +little face flushed for the moment with unselfish hopefulness.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Eve, slowly, “he couldn’t, he loved Ferdie so!” She +raised her right hand and looked at it. “He would see me holding +it—taking aim—”</p> + +<p>Cicely drew away, she struck Eve’s hand down with all her force. Then +she ran sobbing to the<a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a> bed, where Jack, half dressed, had fallen asleep +again, and threw herself down beside him. “Oh, Ferdie! Ferdie!” she +sobbed, in a passion of grief.</p> + +<p>Eve did not move.</p> + +<p>After a while Cicely dried her eyes and rose; she woke Jack, and +finished dressing him in silence; kneeling down, she began to put on his +shoes.</p> + +<p>The child rolled his little wooden horse over her shoulder. Then he +called: “Old Eve! old Eve! Pum here, an’ det down; I want to roll de +hortie on <i>you</i>, too.”</p> + +<p>Eve obeyed; she took up the other little shoe.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” said Cicely, her voice still choked with sobs, “we can’t +help it, Eve—as long as we’ve got him between us; he’s a tie. We shall +have to make the best of each other, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“May I go with you to Romney?” Eve asked, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>“How can you want to go <i>there</i>?” demanded Cicely, her eyes beginning to +flash again.</p> + +<p>“I know.—But I don’t want to leave Jack and you. If you would take +me—”</p> + +<p>They said but a few words more. Yet it was all arranged; they would go +to Romney; Paul was to know nothing of it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX.</h2> + +<p>C<small>ICELY</small> thought of everything, she ordered everything; she and Eve had +changed places. It was decided that they should take a North Shore +steamer; this would carry them eastward to the Sault by a route far away +from Port aux Pins. Mrs. Mile was<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a> to be sent back to that flourishing +town on the day of their own departure, but preceding it in time by +several hours; she would carry no tidings because she would know none. +Hollis was to be taken into their confidence in a measure—he was to be +informed that this change of plan was a necessity, and that Paul must +not hear of it.</p> + +<p>“He will do what we tell him to do,” Cicely remarked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” said Eve, assentingly.</p> + +<p>The first North Shore steamer would not pass before the morning of the +third day. For twenty-four hours Eve remained inert, she did nothing. +The judge, troubled, but inexpressibly excited at the prospect of never +seeing Port aux Pins again; of getting away from these cold woods, and +in a few days from these horrible great lakes; of soon breathing once +more the air of his dear, warm, low-lying country, with its old +plantations, its old towns, its old houses and old friends, hurried +about wildly, trotting hither and thither on many errands, but without +accomplishing much. On the second day Eve’s mood changed, and a feverish +activity took possession of her also; she was up and out at dawn, she +did everything she could think of, she worked incessantly. By noon there +was nothing more left to do, and there still remained the whole half of +the day, and the night.</p> + +<p>“I think I’ll go out on the lake,” she said to Cicely.</p> + +<p>“Yes, row hard; tire yourself,” Cicely answered.</p> + +<p>She spoke coldly, though the advice she offered was good. She was trying +hard to be kind to Eve during these difficult last hours when Paul was +still<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a> so near; but though she did her best, she often failed. “You’d +better not come back until nearly dark,” she added; “we’ve got to be +together through the long journey, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” Eve replied.</p> + +<p>It was a brilliant afternoon, the air was clear; already the woods had +an autumn look. Eve paddled eastward for some time; then she came back +and went out to Jupiter Light. Beaching her canoe, she strolled to and +fro for a while; then she sat down. The water came up and laved the reef +with a soft, regular sound, the Light loomed above her; presently a man +came out of the door and locked it behind him.</p> + +<p>“Good-afternoon, mum,” he said, pausing on his way to his boat. “From +the camp down below, ain’t yer?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m going the other way <i>myself</i>. Want to be light-keeper for an +hour or two?” This jocularly.</p> + +<p>It was the man who had come down with a lantern and preceded her and +Paul up the stairs to the little room at the top.</p> + +<p>“There’s some one else above, isn’t there?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“No, mum; all three of us off ter-day. But me and John Rail’ll be back +afore dark; you won’t tell on us, I guess?” He gave a toothless smile +and pushed off, nodding slightly in farewell as the distance between +them increased. He went eastward round the point; his boat was soon out +of sight.</p> + +<p>Eve sat gazing at the Light; she recalled the exact tones of Paul’s +voice as he said, “<i>Don’t</i> you want to go up?” Then they had climbed up, +and down<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a> again; and how sweet and strange and exciting it was! Then he +had rowed the canoe home; how delightful it had been to sit there and +feel the boat dart forward under his strong strokes in the +darkness!—for night had come on while they lingered on the reef. Then +she remembered her anger when he said, as he was helping her out, “I saw +how much you wanted to go!” It seemed so strange that she should ever +have been angry with him; she could never be so again, no matter what he +might do. She tried to think of the things he might do; for instance, he +might marry (she had almost said “marry again”). “I ought to wish that +he might find some one—” But she could go no further, that was the end +of that line of thought; she could not wish anything of the kind. She +pressed her hands together in bitter, hot rebellion. But even her +rebellion was without hope. She had been sitting with her feet crossed +before her; she drew up her knees, put her arms upon them, and her head +on her arms. She sat thus a long time.</p> + +<p>A voice said, “Eve!”</p> + +<p>With a start she raised her head. Paul stood there beside her.</p> + +<p>“You did not expect to see me. But I had word. Hollis got one of the men +off secretly as soon as he could; he was ashamed to see me treated so.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Eve; “he wanted to give <i>me</i> a pleasure.” Nothing could have +been more dreary than her tone, more desperate than her eyes, as she +looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Oh, why did you come here?” she went on.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t believe it, Eve; I thought it was all gammon.”</p> + +<p>“No; it’s true.”<a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a></p> + +<p>“That you were going to leave me?—Going off without letting me know?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Who has been talking to you? Cicely—now that she is herself again? +She’s a murderous little creature.”</p> + +<p>“I talked to <i>her</i>, I asked her to take me with her.”</p> + +<p>“What is the matter with you?” said Paul. He bent and took her hands, +and drew her to her feet. “Now I can look at you.—Tell me what you +mean.”</p> + +<p>“Baby came near being drowned. And it was my fault. That brought me to +my senses.”</p> + +<p>“It took you out of them!”</p> + +<p>“I saw then that I had been thinking only of myself, my own happiness.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it would have been some happiness, would it?” said Paul, with a +touch of sarcasm. He took her in his arms.</p> + +<p>“Have you the least doubt about my love for you?” Eve asked.</p> + +<p>He looked deep into her eyes, so near his own. “No, I haven’t.” And he +rested his lips on hers.</p> + +<p>She did not resist, she returned his kiss. Then she left him. “It’s like +death to me, but I must. I shall never marry you.” She went towards her +canoe.</p> + +<p>Paul gave a laugh. “That’s a nice way to talk when I’ve been slaving +over the house, and got all sorts of suffocating things you’ll like.” He +came and took her hands off the boat’s edge. “Why, Eve,” he said, with +sudden passion, “a week from to-day we shall be living there together.”</p> + +<p>“Never together.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”<a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a></p> + +<p>“I can’t tell you, because it’s against myself.—I haven’t the strength +to tell you.”</p> + +<p>“Because it will make me think less of you? Not so much so as your +trying to slip away from me unawares.”</p> + +<p>“You think it wouldn’t. But it would.”</p> + +<p>“Try me!”</p> + +<p>She released herself from the grasp of his hands. “Oh, if the cases had +been reversed, how little <i>I</i> should have minded! No matter what you had +done, you would have been the same to me—God knows you would! In life, +in death, before anything and everything, I should have adored you +always, you would always have come first.”</p> + +<p>“So it is with me,” said Paul.</p> + +<p>“No, it is <i>not</i>. And it’s for that reason I am leaving you.”</p> + +<p>Paul made no more use of words. What she had said had left no impression +upon him—no impression of importance. He had never been so much in love +with her as at this moment.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you see how I am suffering?—I cannot bear it. Oh, leave me! let +me go! Another minute and I shall not have the strength.—Don’t kiss me +again. Listen! <i>I</i> shot Ferdie, your brother. I—I!”</p> + +<p>Paul’s arms dropped. “Ferdie? Poor Ferdie?” The tears rushed to his +eyes. “Why, some negroes did it.”</p> + +<p>“There were no negroes. It was I.”</p> + +<p>He stood there as if petrified.</p> + +<p>With desperate courage, she launched her canoe. “You see now that I had +to go. You could not marry a woman who—Not even if she did it to<a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a> +save—“ She waited an instant, looking at him. He did not speak. She +pushed off, lingering a moment longer. “Forgive me for trying to deceive +you those few days,” she said. Then, with quick strokes, she sent the +boat westward. After a while, she changed her position, and, taking the +other paddle, she began to row, so that she could look back the longer. +His figure remained motionless for many minutes; then he sat down on the +edge of his canoe. Thus she left him, alone under Jupiter Light.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI.</h2> + +<p>W<small>HEN</small> Eve reached the camp, after her parting with Paul, Cicely was +waiting for her on the beach, alone; apparently she had sent every one +away. “Well?” she said, as the canoe grated on the sand.</p> + +<p>“I told him,” Eve answered.</p> + +<p>“Everything?”</p> + +<p>“Everything.”</p> + +<p>“And he did not—?”</p> + +<p>“No, he did not.”</p> + +<p>For an instant Cicely’s face expressed keen sympathy. Then her +expression changed. “You did it, you know. You’ll have to pay for it!”</p> + +<p>“Will you help me to get away?” Eve asked.—“I cannot see him again.”</p> + +<p>“And do you imagine that by any chance he wishes to see <i>you</i>?” demanded +Cicely, sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“But he will have to come back here—he must; let me go away before he +comes. We were leaving to-morrow in any case; help me off now,” Eve +pleaded.<a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a></p> + +<p>Cicely surveyed her with pitiless eyes; the once strong Eve now looked +at her imploringly, her face despairing, her voice broken. Having had +her satisfaction, the vindictive little creature turned, and, going back +to the lodge, began to issue orders with imperative haste, as though she +had but one wish in the world, namely, to help Eve; Mrs. Mile found +herself working as she had never worked before; the Irishmen tumbled +over each other; Porley and the cook constantly gallopaded—no other +word could describe their gait. The judge worked fiercely; he helped in +launching the canoes until the blood rushed to his head; he ran after +the Irishmen; he carried Jack, he scolded Porley. And then, during one +of these journeys, his strength failed so suddenly that he was obliged +to sit down; as there was no bench near, he sat down on the ground.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards Mrs. Mile came by.</p> + +<p>“Dear me! Do let me assist you,” she said sweetly.</p> + +<p>“I am merely looking at the lake; it is charming this morning,” replied +the judge, waving his hand.</p> + +<p>“I could assist you <i>so</i> well,” said the nurse, coming nearer, “knowing, +as I do, the exact position of <i>all</i> the muscles.”</p> + +<p>“Muscles, madam? It’s more than I do! May I ask you to pass on?”</p> + +<p>One of the Irishmen next appeared, carrying Jack’s pillows and toys.</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me where Mr. Hollis is?” demanded the judge, still seated.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hollis, surr? Yes, surr. Think he’s gone fishing, surr.”<a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a></p> + +<p>“D—n him! He takes a nice time for it—when we’re sweating here,” +muttered the judge, angrily.</p> + +<p>But poor Hollis was fishing only in a figurative sense, and in bitter +waters. He had sent for Paul—yes; but he could not stay to witness his +return with Eve; (he had not the slightest doubt but that Eve would +return with him). He shook hands with Paul upon his arrival, and made a +number of jokes, as usual. But soon after the younger man’s canoe had +started eastward in search of Eve, a second canoe, with Hollis paddling, +stole quietly away, going in the opposite direction. Its occupant +reached Port aux Pins, in due time. He remained there but a few hours.</p> + +<p>A month later a letter came to Paul from a small town near the base of +the Rocky Mountains. “You see, when I got back to Port aux Pins, it sort +of came over me that I’d go west. People are more lively out here, and +not so crowded. I’ve got hold of a capital thing in raisins, in southern +California. If that fails, there is stock-raising, and plenty of other +things; and the same old auctioneer line. I’ve left a trifle in the +savings-bank for Jacky. Perhaps you’ll take charge of it for him? You’ll +hear from me again soon.—C. H<small>OLLIS</small>.”</p> + +<p>But Paul never heard from him; from that moment all trace of him was +lost. Ferdie, if he had known Hollis, would have had a vision of him +making his way year by year farther westward, always attired in the +black coat and tall hat (which marked his dignity as a lawyer), whether +voyaging in a prairie schooner, chopping wood at a camp, hunting elk, or +searching for ore. But Paul had no such visions, he did not see human +lives as <i>tableaux-vivants.</i><a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a> He was sincerely sorry that Hollis had +vamosed in that way. But he understood it too.</p> + +<p>The trifle turned out to be eight hundred dollars. It was regularly +entered to little Jack’s account, and there was a pass-book with his +full name, “John Frederick Bruce.” “Bruce,—that did it,” thought Paul; +“he could give it to the <i>child</i>. Poor old Kit! it must have been all he +had.”</p> + +<p>Cicely’s generalship was excellent; in less than half an hour the three +canoes were ready, and the judge, Porley and Jack, Eve, Cicely herself, +with three of the men to row, took their places; the boats glided out +from the shore, turning towards the west. Mrs. Mile bowed gravely to the +judge, with an air of compunction; she knew what an impression she had +made upon that poor old man; she was afraid that she had not done right! +Mrs. Mile was left in charge of the camp to await the arrival of Paul +Tennant.</p> + +<p>The canoes were out all night. At dawn the little party found refuge on +one of the North Shore steamers, and began the long voyage down the +chain of lakes, stopping again at the beautiful city of Cleveland, +thence by railway to New York, and from there southward by sea. On the +ninth morning of their journey their ocean steamer turned her bows +towards the distant land, a faint line on the right; by noon, she was +making her way along a winding channel, which was indicated here and +there in the water by buoys painted white, which looked like ducks; the +Atlantic was very calm, its hue was emerald green; it was so clear that +one could see the great jelly-fish floating down below. The judge, with +his hands clasped on his cane’s head, stood looking<a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a> eagerly at +everything. His joy was deep, he felt himself an exile returning home. +And oh! how beautiful home was! To him, this Southern coast was fair as +Paradise; he welcomed the dark hue of the Southern trees, he welcomed +the neglected fields, he even welcomed the broken-down old houses here +and there. For at least they were not staring, they were not noisy; to +the judge, the smart new houses of Port aux Pins—those with Mansard +roofs—had seemed to shout and yell. Three negro fishermen, passing in a +row-boat with a torn sail, were eminently worthy creatures; they were +not the impudent, well-dressed mulattoes of the North, who elbowed him +off the pavements, who read newspapers on steamers with the air of men +of the world. When the winding channel—winding through water—came to +an end at the mouth of an inlet, the white sand-hills on each hand were +more beautiful to his eyes than the peaks of the Alps, or the soft +outline of Italian mountains. “God bless my country!” was the old man’s +fervent thought. But his “country” was limited; it was the territory +which lies between the St. Mary’s River and the Savannah.</p> + +<p>At the little port within the inlet they disembarked, and took the small +steamer of the Inside Route, which was to carry them through the sounds +to Romney. Night had come on, dark and quiet; clouds covered the sky; +the air was warm, for it was still summer here. The dusky shores, dimly +visible on either hand, gave a sense of protection after the vastness of +the ocean; the odors of flowers reached them, and seemed sweet after its +blank, cold purity. Cicely, with Porley and Jack, was on the deck near +the stern; the judge was now with<a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a> them, now at the prow, now up-stairs, +now down-stairs; he could not be still. Eve sat by herself on the +forward deck, gazing through the darkness at the water; she could not +see it save here and there in broken gleams, where the lights from the +lower cabin shone across it; she heard the rushing sound made by the +great paddle-wheels as they revolved unseen behind her, and the fancy +came to her that she should like to be lashed to the outer rim of one of +them, and be carried up and down through the cool water. Towards ten +o’clock a beam shone out ahead. “See it?” said the judge, excitedly, +coming to show it to her. “Jupiter Light!”</p> + +<p>And Eve remembered that less than a year before she had landed here for +the first time, a woman imperious, sufficient to herself; a woman who +was sure that she could direct her own course; in addition, a woman who +supposed herself to be unhappy. How like child’s play did this all seem +now—her certainties, and her pride, and her supposed sorrow! “If I +could die, wouldn’t that be the best thing for me, as well as for Paul? +A way out of it all? The first shock over, I should be but a memory to +him; I should not be a miserable haunting presence, wretched myself, and +making him wretched too. I wonder—I wonder—is it wrong to try to die?”</p> + +<p>The stern Puritan blood of her father in her answered, “One must not +give up until one has exhausted every atom of one’s strength in the +contest.”</p> + +<p>“But if it is all exhausted? If—” Here another feeling came sweeping +over her. “No, I cannot die while he is in the world; in spite of my +misery, I want to be here if he is here. Perhaps no knowledge of +anything that happens here penetrates to<a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a> the next world; if that is the +case, I don’t want to be there, no matter how beautiful it may be. I +want to stay where I can hear of Paul.”</p> + +<p>After they had left the boat, and Pomp and Plato were hoisting the +trunks into one of the wagons, Cicely came up.</p> + +<p>“Eve, you must stay with me more, now that we are here; you mustn’t be +always off by yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I thought you preferred it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, through the journey. But not now. It’s a great deal worse for me +now than it is for you; you have left Paul behind, but I am going to see +Ferdie in a moment or two. I shall see him everywhere—in the road, at +the door, in our own room; he will stand and look at me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you will like that.”</p> + +<p>“No, for it will be only a mockery; I shall not be able to put my arms +round him; he won’t kiss me.”</p> + +<p>“Cecilia,” called the judge, his voice ringing out happily, “everything +is ready now, and Cesh is restive.”</p> + +<p>Cicely gave one of her sudden little laughs. “Poor grandpa! he is so +frantic with joy that he even says ‘Cesh,’—though he loathes +abbreviations!”</p> + +<p>Secession, the mule, started on his leisurely walk towards Romney.</p> + +<p>In the same lighted doorway where Eve had been received upon her first +arrival, now appeared again the tall figure of Miss Sabrina. The poor +lady was crying.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my darling Cicely, what sorrow!” she said, embracing her niece +fondly.</p> + +<p>As they entered the hall: “Oh, my darling Cicely,<a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a> what a home-coming +for you! And to think—“ More tears.</p> + +<p>As they came into the lighted parlor: “Oh, my darling Cicely—What! no +mourning?” This last in genuine surprise.</p> + +<p>Cicely closed the door. She stood in the centre of the room. “This is +not a charnel-house, Sabrina. No one is to speak to me of graves. As to +mourning, I shall not wear an inch of it; you may wear as many yards as +you like—you always loved it; did you begin to mourn for Ferdie before +he was dead?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, pa, she said such terrible things to me—our own Cicely. I don’t +know how to take it!” moaned poor Miss Sabrina to her father when they +were left alone.</p> + +<p>“Well, you are pretty black, Sabrina,” suggested the judge, doubtfully. +“Those tossels now—”</p> + +<p>“I got them because they were cheap. I <i>hope</i> they look like mourning?”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t be afraid; they’re hearse-like!”</p> + +<p>“Are they, really?” said Miss Sabrina, with gratification. “The choice +at the mainland store is so small.” But presently the tears came again. +“Oh, pa, everything is so sad now. Do you remember when I used to ride +my little pony by your side, and you were on your big black horse? How +kind you have always been to me, pa; and I have been such a +disappointment to you!”</p> + +<p>“No, no, Breeny; no, little girl,” said the judge.</p> + +<p>They kissed each other, the old man and his gray-haired child. Their +minds went back to brighter days; they understood each other’s sorrow.</p> + +<p>At two o’clock Eve had not yet gone to bed. There was a tap at her door. +She spoke. “Cicely?”<a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a></p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>She drew back the bolt, and Cicely entered, carrying a small lamp. “You +haven’t gone to bed? So much the better; you are to come with me.”</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>“To all the places where we went that night.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot.”</p> + +<p>“There is no question of ‘cannot;’ I wish you to go, and you must, if I +say so.”</p> + +<p>Eve looked at her with forlorn eyes. But Cicely was inflexible. She +opened the door; Eve followed her.</p> + +<p>“First, I want to see that Jacky is all right,” Cicely said. She led the +way to her own room. Jack was asleep, his dimpled arms thrown out on the +pillow. Cicely bent over him for a moment. Then she looked at Eve. “You +won’t ever be troubled by this sort of thing, will you? <i>You’ll</i> never +have a child!” She laughed, and, taking the lamp, turned towards the +door. “This was Ferdie’s dressing-room; don’t you see him over there by +the window?” Eve shrank. “Now he has gone. But we shall hear him +following us along the corridor presently, and across the ballroom. +Then, in the thicket, he will come and look at us;—do you remember his +eyes, and the corners of his mouth,—how they were drawn down?” And the +corners of her own mouth took the same grimace.</p> + +<p>“I cannot go with you,” said Eve, stopping.</p> + +<p>“You will do what I wish you to,” answered Cicely;—“one generally does +when one has injured a person as you have injured me. For I loved +Ferdie, you know; I really had the folly to love him.” (She said this +insolently.) Turning to Eve, with the same<a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a> insolent smile, “At last you +know what love is, don’t you?” she added. “Has it brought you much +happiness?”</p> + +<p>Eve made no answer, she followed humbly; together they went through the +labyrinth of small rooms at the end of the corridor and entered the +ballroom.</p> + +<p>Its empty space was dark, a glimmering gray alone marking the +unshuttered windows. The circle of light from their lamp made the +blackness still blacker.</p> + +<p>“Do you remember when I put on that ball-dress of my grandmother’s, and +came jumping along here?” said Cicely. “How strange it is!—I think I +was <i>intended</i> to be happy.”</p> + +<p>After a moment she went on: “Now we must begin to listen; he will come +in behind us, we shall hear his step. <i>You</i> ought to hear it all your +life!” she added.</p> + +<p>They reached the window at last; it had seemed to Eve an endless +transit. Cicely drew back the bolt, threw up the sash, and, with the aid +of a chair, stepped out.</p> + +<p>“Wait here,” she said, when Eve had joined her outside; “then, when I +have reached the thicket, draw the window down, just as he did; I want +to hear the sound.”</p> + +<p>She went quickly towards the thicket, carrying her lamp. Eve was left +alone on the veranda.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes Eve tried to draw down the sash. It resisted, and +she was obliged to use all her strength. A shiver came over her as she +lifted her arms to try a second time, she almost expected to see a hand +come stealing over her shoulder (or under<a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a> it), and perform the task for +her; and the hand would be—Ferdie’s. She hurried after Cicely.</p> + +<p>Cicely came out from the thicket. “Now take the lamp and walk down the +road a little way; I wish to see the gleam moving over the +bushes,—don’t you remember?”</p> + +<p>Eve obeyed. It seemed to her as if she should never be free from this +island and its terror; as if she should spend the rest of her life here +following Cicely, living over again their dreadful flight.</p> + +<p>When she came back, Cicely said, “Now for the north point;” she led the +way along the road; their footsteps made crunching sounds in the sand.</p> + +<p>Cicely said, “I was in hopes that the moon would come out from behind +those clouds. Oh, I’m so glad! there it is! Now it will light up the +very spot where you shot him. I will leave the lamp here on the sand; +that will give the yellow gleam that we saw behind us. Now go into the +woods. Then, in a few moments, you must come out and look about, just as +you did then, and you must put out your hand and make a motion of +shooting.”</p> + +<p>“I will not,” said Eve, outraged. “I shall leave you and go back.”</p> + +<p>Cicely saw that she had come to the end of her power. She put her arms +round Eve’s neck, and held her closely. “To please me, Eve; I shall +never be content without it; I want to see how it all was, how you +looked. Just this once, Eve; never again, but just this once.”</p> + +<p>“I thought you had forgiven me, Cicely?”</p> + +<p>“I have, I have.” She kissed Eve again. “<i>Do</i> content me.”</p> + +<p>Eve went slowly towards the trees. As she disappeared<a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a> within the +shadow, Cicely instantly concealed herself on the other side of the +road. There was a silence.</p> + +<p>The moon, emerging still further from the clouds, now silvered the +forest, the path, and the sound with its clear light; there was no boat +drawn up at the point’s end; the beach sloped smoothly to the water, +unbroken by any dark outline, and the water stretched smoothly towards +Singleton Island, with only the track of the moon across it.</p> + +<p>Eve stood in the shadow under the trees. The spell of the place was upon +her; like a somnambulist, she felt herself forced by some inward +compelling power to go through the whole scene. The thought of Cicely +had passed from her mind; there was but one person there now—Ferdie; in +another moment she should see him; she listened; then she went forward +to the edge of the wood and looked down the road.</p> + +<p>Something came rushing from the other side, and with quick force bore +her to the ground. Not Ferdie, but Cicely, like a tigress, was upon her, +her hands at her throat. In a strange suffocated voice, she cried, “Do +you like it? Do you like it? Do you <i>like</i> to be dead?”</p> + +<p>And Eve did not struggle; she lay motionless in Cicely’s +grasp—motionless under the weight of her body keeping her down. The +thing did not seem to her at all incredible; suddenly it seemed like a +remedy for all her troubles—if Cicely’s grasp should tighten. Passively +she closed her eyes.</p> + +<p>But Cicely’s grasp did not tighten; the fury that had risen within her +had taken all her strength, and now she lay back white and still. Eve, +like a <a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a>person in a dream, went down to the beach and dipped her +handkerchief in the water; slowly she came back, and bathed Cicely’s +forehead and wrists. But still Cicely did not stir. Eve put her hand on +her heart. It was beating faintly. She stooped, and lifted Cicely in her +arms, holding her as one holds a child, with one arm round her shoulders +and the other under her knees, Cicely’s head lying against her breast. +Then she began her long walk back.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII.</h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> stars were fading, there was a band of clear light in the east over +the sea, when Eve reached the veranda of Romney again; with pauses for +rest, she had carried her sister all the way. Cicely was small and +light, her weight was scarcely more than that of a child; still, owing +to the distance, the effort had been great, and Eve’s strength was +exhausted. She put her burden gently down on the floor of the veranda, +and stood leaning against one of the wooden pillars, with her arms +hanging by her sides to rest them; they were numb and stiff, almost +paralyzed; she began to be afraid lest she should not be able to raise +them again; she went to the window to try. The effort of lifting the +sash drew a groan of anguish from her. But Cicely did not hear it; she +remained unconscious. The dawn grew brighter, soon the sun would appear. +It was not probable that at this early hour any one would pass this +uninhabited end of the house; still, negroes were inconsequent; Pomp and +Plato might be seized with a fancy to come; if she could only get Cicely +back to her room<a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a> unseen, there need be no knowledge of their midnight +expedition. She knelt down beside her, and chafed her hands and temples; +she spoke her name with insistence: “Cicely! Cicely!”—she put the whole +force of her will into the effort of reaching the dormant consciousness, +wherever it was, and compelling it to waken. “Cicely!” She looked +intently at Cicely’s closed eyes.</p> + +<p>Cicely stirred, her dark-fringed lids opened; her vague glance caught +the gleam of the sound. “Where are we?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“We came out for a walk,” Eve answered. “Do you think you could climb +in—I mean by the window? I am afraid I cannot lift you.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I can. Why shouldn’t I?”</p> + +<p>She did it as lightly and easily as ever; she was in perfect possession +of all her faculties. Eve followed her. Then she drew down the sash with +the same effort.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter with your arms?” Cicely asked. “You move them as +though they were rusty.”</p> + +<p>“I think they <i>are</i> rusty.”</p> + +<p>They went through the ballroom, now looking very prosaic, flooded with +the light of the rising sun. “We’re always tramping through this old +room,” said Cicely.</p> + +<p>When she reached the door of her own chamber, she abruptly drew Eve in. +“Well—are you going to leave me forever?”</p> + +<p>“Not unless you send me away.”</p> + +<p>“Is it on baby’s account that you stay?”</p> + +<p>“Not more now than at any time.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mind what I did, then?”<a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a></p> + +<p>“You didn’t do anything.”</p> + +<p>“That’s brave of you, Eve, when you hate lies so. You are trying to make +me believe that nothing happened out there in the road—that I was just +as usual. But I remember perfectly—I sprang at you; if I had been a +man—my hands stronger—you wouldn’t be here now!”</p> + +<p>“Fortunately you are not a man, nor anything like one,” Eve answered, in +the tone of a person who makes a joke. She turned towards the door.</p> + +<p>“Wait, I want to tell you,” said Cicely, going after her, and turning +her round with her hands on her shoulders. “This is it, Eve; it comes +over me with a rush sometimes, when I look at you—that here you are +alive, and <i>Ferdie</i> dead! He was a great deal more splendid than you +are, he was so handsome and so young! And yet there he is, down in the +ground; and <i>you</i> walking about here! Nothing seems too bad for you +then; my feeling is, ‘Let her die too! And see how she likes it.’”</p> + +<p>“I should like it well enough, if somebody else did it,” Eve answered. +“Death wouldn’t be a punishment, Cicely; it would be a release.”</p> + +<p>Cicely’s grasp relaxed. “Oh, very well. Then why haven’t you tried it?”</p> + +<p>“Because Paul Tennant is still in the world! I am pusillanimous enough +to wish to breathe the same air.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>do</i> love him!” said Cicely. She paused. “Perhaps—after a +little—”</p> + +<p>“No, I have thought it all out; it can never be. If he should come to me +this moment, and tell me that he loved me in spite of everything, it +wouldn’t help me; for I should know that it could not last; I<a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a> should +know that, if I should marry him, sooner or later he would hate me; it +would be inevitable. Ferdie’s face would come always between us.”</p> + +<p>“I hope it may,” said Cicely, savagely. “Why do you keep on staying with +me? I don’t wish you to stay. Not in the least.”</p> + +<p>“I thought that I could perhaps be of some use. You were so dear to my +brother—”</p> + +<p>“Much you care for poor old Jack now! Even <i>I</i> care more.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have changed. But—Jack understands.”</p> + +<p>“A convenient belief!”</p> + +<p>“And you have his child.”</p> + +<p>—“And I am Paul’s sister!”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I can sometimes hear of Paul through you.”</p> + +<p>Eve’s voice, as she said this, was so patient that Cicely was softened. +She came to Eve and kissed her. “I am sorry for you, Eve.”</p> + +<p>“Will you promise me to go to bed?” Eve answered, resuming her usual +tone, as she turned towards the door. “I must go now, I am tired.”</p> + +<p>Cicely went with her. “I am never sure of myself, Eve,” she said, +warningly; “I may say just the same things to you to-morrow,—remember +that.”</p> + +<p>Once in her own room, Eve did not follow the advice which she had given +to Cicely; finding that she could not sleep, she dressed herself afresh, +and sought the open air again. It was still early, no one was stirring +save the servants. Meeting Porley, she asked the girl to bring her some +tea and a piece of corn-bread; after this frugal breakfast, taken in the +shade of the great live-oaks, she wandered down one of the eastern +roads. Her bath had brought no<a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a> color to her cheeks; her eyes had the +contracted look which comes after a night of wakefulness; though the +acute pain had ceased, her weary arms still hung lifelessly by her side, +her step was languid; only her golden hair looked bright and young as +the sun’s rays shone across it.</p> + +<p>She walked on at random; after a while, upon looking down one of the +tracks, bordered by the glittering green bushes, she recognized Miss +Sabrina’s figure, and, turning, followed it.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina had come out to pay an early visit to her temple of +memories. She heard Eve’s step, and looked up. “Oh, is it you, my dear? +It’s St. Michael and All-Angels; I have only brought a few flowers, I +hope you don’t mind?” Her voice was apologetic.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean for my brother? I wish you had brought more, then; I wish +you would always remember him,” said Eve, going over and sitting down +beside the mound. “He has the worst time of any of us, after all!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear, how <i>can</i> we know?” murmured Miss Sabrina, shocked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean that he is in hell,” said Eve.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina had no idea what she meant; she returned to the subject of +her temple. “Cicely thinks I come here too often,—she spoke of +charnel-houses. Perhaps I do come often; but it has been a comfort to +me.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Sabrina, do you believe in another world?”</p> + +<p>“My dear child, most certainly.”</p> + +<p>“And have we the same feelings, the same affections, there as here?”</p> + +<p>“The good ones, I suppose.”<a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a></p> + +<p>“Is love one of these?”</p> + +<p>“The best, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, my brother took his love for Cicely; if she should die +to-day, how much would she care for him, when she met him?”</p> + +<p>“I think that something else would be provided for your brother, +probably,” said Miss Sabrina, timidly.</p> + +<p>“Another wife? Why not arrange that for Ferdie Morrison, and give Cicely +to Jack?”</p> + +<p>“She loved Ferdie the best. Aren’t you inclined to think that it must be +when they <i>both</i> love?” suggested the maiden lady.</p> + +<p>“And when they both love, should anything be permitted to come between +them?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing! nothing!” said Miss Sabrina, with fervor. “That is, of +course, when there is no barrier; when it would be no crime.”</p> + +<p>“What is crime?” demanded Eve, looking at her sombrely. “I don’t think I +know.”</p> + +<p>“Surely the catechism tells us, doesn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“What does it tell?”</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina murmured reverently: “Idolatry, isn’t it?—and blasphemy; +desecration of the Lord’s Day and irreverence to parents; murder, +adultery, theft; falsehood and covetousness.”</p> + +<p>“And which is the worst? Murder?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever spoken to a murderer?”</p> + +<p>“Heaven forbid!” said Miss Sabrina. She glanced with suffused eyes +towards Ferdie’s grave. “It is <i>such</i> a comfort to me to think that +though he was in effect murdered, those poor ignorant nig-roes had +probably no such intention; it was not done<a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a> deliberately, by some one +who <i>wished</i> to harm him.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe his murderer will be afraid to face him in the next +world,” said Eve. She, too, looked towards the mound; she seemed to see +Ferdie lying down below, with closed eyes, but the same grimacing lips.</p> + +<p>“Oh, as to that, they would have so little in common that they wouldn’t +be thrown much together, I reckon,” said Miss Sabrina, hopefully; “I +doubt if they even meet.”</p> + +<p>“Your heaven is not like the Declaration of Independence, is it?” said +Eve.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina did not understand. She pinched her throat with her thumb +and forefinger, and looked vaguely at Eve.</p> + +<p>“I mean that all men ‘are created equal;’ your heaven has an outside +colony for negroes, and once or twice a week white angels go over there, +I suppose, ring the Sunday-school bell, and hold meetings for their +improvement.”</p> + +<p>Miss Sabrina colored; she took up her basket.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me!” said Eve, dropping her sarcasms. “I am unhappy. That is +the reason I talk so.”</p> + +<p>“I feared so, my dear; I feared so,” answered the gentle lady, melted at +once.</p> + +<p>Eve left her, and wandered across the island to the ocean beach. Low +waves came rolling in and broke upon the sand; no ship was in sight; the +blue of the water met the horizon line unbroken. She walked southward +with languid step; every now and then she would stop, then walk slowly +on again. After half an hour a sound made her turn; Paul Tennant was +close upon her, not twenty feet distant;<a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a> the wash of the waves had +prevented her from hearing his approach. She stood still, involuntarily +turning towards him as if at bay.</p> + +<p>Paul came up. “Eve, I know what I am about now. I didn’t know out there +at Jupiter Light; I was dazed; but I soon understood. I went back to the +camp, but you were gone. As soon as I could I started after you. Here I +am.”</p> + +<p>“You understood? What did you understand?” said Eve, her face deathly +white.</p> + +<p>“That I loved you,” said Paul, taking her in his arms. “That is enough +for me; I hope it is for you.”</p> + +<p>“That you love me in spite of—”</p> + +<p>“There is no ‘in spite of;’ what you did was noble, was extraordinarily +brave. A woman is timid; you are timid, though you may pretend not to +be; yet with your own hand—”</p> + +<p>Eve remembered how Cicely had struck her hand down. “You will strike it +down, too!” she said, incoherently, bursting into tears.</p> + +<p>Paul soothed her, not by words, but by his touch. Her whole being +responded; she leaned her head against his breast.</p> + +<p>“To save Cicely you crushed your own feelings; you did something utterly +horrible to you. And you faced all the trouble and grief which would +certainly come in consequence of it. Why, Eve, it was the bravest thing +I have ever heard of.”</p> + +<p>Eve gave a long sigh. “I have been so unhappy—”</p> + +<p>“Never again, I hope,” said Paul; “from this moment I take charge of +you. We will be married as soon as possible; we will go to Charleston.”<a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a></p> + +<p>“Don’t let us talk of that. Just love me here;—- now.”</p> + +<p>“Well—don’t I?” said Paul, smiling.</p> + +<p>He found a little nook between two spurs of the thicket which had +invaded the beach; here he made a seat for her with a fragment of wreck +which had been washed up by the sea.</p> + +<p>“Let us stay here all day,” she said, longingly.</p> + +<p>“You will have me all the days of your life,” said Paul. He had seated +himself at her feet. “We shall have to live in Port aux Pins for the +present; you won’t mind that, I hope?”</p> + +<p>She drew his head down upon her breast. “How I have loved you!”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” he said, flushing. “It was that which made me love you.” He +rose (it was not natural to Paul to keep a lowly position long), and, +taking a seat beside her, lifted her in his arms. “I’m well caught,” he +murmured, looking down upon her with a smile. “Who would ever have +supposed that you could sway me so?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” cried Eve, breaking away from him, “it’s of no use; my one day +that I counted on—my one short day—I cannot even dare to take that! +Good women have the worst of it; if I could pretend that I was going to +marry you, all this would be right; and if I could pretend nothing, but +just <i>take</i> it, then at least I should have had it; a remembrance for +all the dreary years that have got to come. Instead of that, as I have +been brought up a stupid, good woman, I <i>can’t</i> change—though I wish I +could! I shall have to tell you the truth: I can never marry you; the +sooner we part, then, the better.” She turned and walked northward +towards the Romney road.<a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a></p> + +<p>With a stride Paul caught up with her. “What are you driving at?”</p> + +<p>“I shall never marry you.”</p> + +<p>He laughed.</p> + +<p>She turned upon him. “You laugh—you have no idea what it is to me! I +think of you day and night, I have longed to have you in my arms—on my +heart. No, don’t touch me; it is only that I won’t have you believe that +I don’t know what love is, that I don’t love you. Why, once at Port aux +Pins, I walked miles at night because I was so mad with jealousy; and I +found you playing whist! If I could only have known beforehand—if I +could only have seen you once, just once, Ferdie might have done what he +chose with Cicely; I shouldn’t have stirred!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you would,” said Paul.</p> + +<p>“No, I shouldn’t have stirred; you might as well know me as I am. What I +despise myself for now is, that I haven’t the force to make an end of +it, to relieve you of the thought of me—at least as some one living. +But as long as you are alive, Paul—” She looked at him with her eyes +full of tears.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know what you are talking about,” said Paul, sternly. “You +will live, and as my wife; we will be married here at Romney to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Would you really marry me <i>here</i>?” said Eve, the light of joy coming +into her wan face.</p> + +<p>“It’s a tumble-down old place, I know. But won’t it do to be married +in?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it is so much harder when you seem to forget,—when for the moment +you really do forget! But of course I know that it could not last.”</p> + +<p>“What could not last?”<a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a></p> + +<p>She moved away a step or two. “If I should marry you, you would hate me. +Not in the beginning. But it would come. For Ferdie was your brother, +and I <i>did</i> kill him; nothing can alter these facts—not even love. At +first you wouldn’t remember; then, gradually, he would come back to you; +you would think of the time when you were boys together, and you would +be sorry. Then, gradually, you would realize that <i>I</i> killed him; +whenever I came near you, you would see—” Her voice broke, but she +hurried on. “You said I was brave to do it, and I was. You said it was +heroic, and it was. Yet all the same, he <i>was</i> your brother; and <i>I</i> +killed him. In defence of Cicely and the baby? Nothing makes any +difference. I killed him, and you would end by hating me. Yet I +shouldn’t be able to leave you; once your wife, I know that I should +stay on, even if it were only to fold your clothes,—to touch them; to +pick up the burnt match-ends you had dropped, and your newspapers; to +arrange the chairs as you like to have them. I should be weak, weak—I +should follow you about. How you would loathe me! It would become to you +a hell.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take care of that,” said Paul; “I’ll see to my own hells; at +present I’m thinking of something very different. We will be married +to-day, and not wait for to-morrow; I will take you away to-night.”</p> + +<p>Eve looked at him.—“Haven’t you heard what I’ve been saying?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I heard it; it was rubbish.” But something in her face impressed +him. “Eve, you are not really going to throw me over for a fancy like +that?”</p> + +<p>“No; for the horrible truth.”</p> + +<p>“My poor girl, you are all wrong, you are out of<a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a> your mind. Let us look +at only one side of it: what can you do in the world without me and my +love as your shield? Your very position (which you talk too much about) +makes <i>me</i> your refuge. Where else could you go? To whom? You speak of +staying with Cicely. But Cicely—about Ferdie—is a little devil. The +boy will never be yours, she will not give him to you; and, all alone in +the world, how desolate you will be! You think yourself strong, but to +me you are like a child; I long to take care of you, I should guard you +from everything. And there wouldn’t be the least goodness in this on my +part; don’t think that; I’m passionately in love with you—I might as +well confess it outright.”</p> + +<p>Eve quivered as she met his eyes. “I shall stay with Cicely.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t care whether you make <i>me</i> suffer?”</p> + +<p>“I want to save you from the far greater suffering that would come.”</p> + +<p>“As I told you before, I’ll take care of that,” said Paul. “You needn’t +be so much concerned about what my feelings will be after you are my +wife—I know what they will be. Women are fools about that sort of +thing—what the future husband may or may not feel, may or may not +think; when he has got the woman he loves, he doesn’t <i>think</i> about her +at all; he thinks about his business, his affairs, his occupations, +whatever he has to do in the world. As to what he <i>feels</i>, he knows. And +she too. There comes an end to all her fancies, and generally they’re +poor stuff.” Drawing her to him, he kissed her. “That’s better than a +fancy! Now we will walk back to the house; there is a good deal to do if +we are to be married this afternoon—as we certainly<a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a> shall be; by this +time to-morrow it will be an old story to you—the being my wife. And +now listen, Eve, let me make an end of it; Ferdie was everything to me, +I don’t deny it; he was the dearest fellow the world could show, and I +had always had the charge of him. But he had that fault from boyhood. +The time came when it endangered Cicely’s life and that of her child; +then you stepped forward and saved them, though it was sure to cost you +a lifetime of pain. I honor you for this, Eve, and always shall. Poor +Ferdie has gone, his death was nobody’s fault but his own; and it wasn’t +wholly his own, either, for he had inherited tendencies which kept him +down. He has gone back to the Power that made him, and that Power +understands his own work, I fancy; at any rate, I am willing to leave +Ferdie to Him. But, in the meantime, we are on the earth, Eve, we +two,—and we love each other; let us have all there is of it, while we +are about it; in fact, I give you warning, that I shall take it all!”</p> + +<p>Two hours later, Paul came back from the mainland, where he had been +making the necessary arrangements for the marriage, which was to take +place at five o’clock; so far, he had told no one of his intention.</p> + +<p>A note was handed to him. He opened it.</p> + +<div class="block"><p>“It is of no use. In spite of all you have said, I feel sure that +in time you could not help remembering. And it would make you +miserable beyond bearing.</p> + +<p>“Once your wife, I should not have the strength to leave you—as I +can now.</p> + +<p class="r">E<small>VE</small>.”</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII.</h2> + +<p>T<small>HE</small> judge was waiting for the steamer at Warwick Landing. Attired in +white duck, with his boy Pomp (Pomp was sixty) waiting respectfully in +the background, he was once more himself. As the steamer drew near, he +bowed with all his old courtliness, and he was immediately answered by +the agitated smile of a lady on the deck, who, with her shawl blowing +off and her veil blowing out, was standing at the railing, timid in +spite of her fifty-three years. It could be no one but Miss Leontine, +who had come over from Gary Hundred, with her maid, to pay a visit to +her dear Sabrina at Romney. The maid was a negro girl of thirteen, +attired in a calico dress and sun-bonnet; she did nothing save strive to +see how far she could straddle on the deck, whose flat surface seemed to +attract her irresistibly. Miss Leontine carried her own travelling-bag. +Occasionally she would say: “Clementine, shush! draw yourself together +immediately.” But Clementine never drew herself.</p> + +<p>The judge assisted his guest to disembark—she ambled across the plank, +holding his hand; they drove to Romney in the one-seated wagon, the +judge acting as charioteer. Pomp and the maid were supposed to walk.</p> + +<p>“Clementine, whatever you do, don’t cling on behind,” said Miss +Leontine, turning her head once or twice unseemingly, to blink at the +offender. But Clementine clung all the way; and brayed at intervals.<a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a></p> + +<p>The judge, in his present state of joy, almost admired Miss +Leontine,—she was so unlike Parthenia Drone! “Ah, my dear Miss +Wingfield, how changed is society in these modern days!” he said, +flicking the flank of the mule. “In my time who ever heard a lady’s +voice three feet away? Who ever knew her opinions—if she had any? Who +ever divined, at least in the open air, the texture of her cheek, +modestly hidden under her bonnet, or saw more than the tip of her +slipper under the hem of her robe? Now women think nothing of speaking +in public—at least at the North; they attend conventions, pass +resolutions, appear in fancy-dress at Fourth of July parades; their +bonnets for the most part” (not so Miss Leontine’s) “are of a brazen +smallness; and their feet, if I may so express it, are the centre of +every room! When I was young, the most ardent suitor could obtain as a +sign of preference, only a sigh;—at most some startled look, some +smile, some reppurtee. All was timidity—timidity and retirement.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leontine, in her gratification at this description of her own +ideal, clasped her hands so tightly together under her shawl that her +corset-board made a long red mark against her ribs in consequence.</p> + +<p>As they came within sight of the house, a figure was walking rapidly +across the lawn. “Is that Mr. Singleton?” inquired Miss Leontine. “Dear +Nannie wrote that they would come over to-day.”</p> + +<p>“No, that’s not Singleton; Singleton’s lame,” said the judge.</p> + +<p>“And yet it looks <i>so</i> much like him,” murmured Miss Leontine, with +conviction, still peering, with the insistence of a near-sighted +person.<a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a></p> + +<p>“It’s a man named Watson,” said the judge, decidedly.</p> + +<p>Watson was a generic title, it did for any one whom the judge could not +quite see. He considered that a name stopped unnecessary chatter,—made +an end of it; if you once knew that it was Watson or Dunlap, you let it +alone.</p> + +<p>In reality the figure was that of Paul Tennant. After reading Eve’s note +he crushed the sheet in his hand, and turned towards the house with +rapid stride. There was no one in the hall; he rang the parlor bell.</p> + +<p>“Do you know where Miss Bruce is?” he asked, when Powlyne appeared.</p> + +<p>“In her room, marse, I spex.”</p> + +<p>“Go and see. Don’t knock; listen.” He paced to and fro until Powlyne +came back.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t dere, marse. Nor yet, periently, she ain’t in de house anywhuz; +spex she’s gone fer a walk.”</p> + +<p>“Go and find out if any one knows which way she went.”</p> + +<p>But no one had seen Eve.</p> + +<p>“Where is Mrs. Morrison?”</p> + +<p>“<i>She’s</i> yere, safe enough. I know whur <i>she</i> is,” answered Powlyne. +“Mis’ Morrison she’s down at de barf-house, taken a barf.”</p> + +<p>“Is any one with her?”</p> + +<p>“Dilsey; she’s dere.”</p> + +<p>“Go and ask Dilsey how soon Mrs. Morrison can see me.”</p> + +<p>Powlyne started. As she did not come back immediately, he grew +impatient, and went himself to the bath-house. It was a queer little +place, a small wooden building, near the sound. It seemed an odd<a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a> idea +to bathe there, in a tank filled by a pump, when, twenty feet distant, +stretched the lagoon, and on the other side of the island the +magnificent sea-beach, smooth as a floor.</p> + +<p>Paul knocked. “How soon can Mrs. Morrison see me?”</p> + +<p>“She’s troo her barf,” answered Dilsey’s voice at the crack. “Now she’s +dess a-lounjun.”</p> + +<p>“Tell her who it is;—that it’s important.”</p> + +<p>In another moment Dilsey opened the door, and ushered him into the outer +room. It was a square apartment, bare and rough, lighted only from +above; its sole article of furniture was a divan in the centre; an inner +door led to the bath-room beyond. Upon the divan Cicely was lying, her +head propped by cushions, the soft waves of her hair loose on her +shoulders. Delicate white draperies, profusely trimmed with lace, +enveloped her, exhaling an odor of violets.</p> + +<p>“Cicely, where is Eve?” demanded Paul.</p> + +<p>“Wait outside, Dilsey,” said Cicely. Then, when the girl had +disappeared, “She has gone to Charleston,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“And from there?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“When did she start!”</p> + +<p>“Two hours ago.”</p> + +<p>—“Immediately after leaving me,” Paul reflected, audibly.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“But there’s no steamer at this hour.”</p> + +<p>“One of the field hands rowed her up to Mayport; there she was to take a +wagon, and drive inland to a railway station.”<a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a></p> + +<p>“She could only hit the Western Road.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but she can make a connection, farther on, which will enable her +to reach Charleston by to-morrow night.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be twelve hours behind her, then; the first steamer leaves this +evening. You are a traitor, Cicely! Why didn’t you let me know?”</p> + +<p>“She did not wish it.”</p> + +<p>“I know what she wishes.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she loves you—if you mean that. But—I agree with her.”</p> + +<p>“Agree with her how?”</p> + +<p>“That the barrier is too great. You would end by hating her,” said +Cicely.</p> + +<p>“I’m the judge of that! If any one hates her, it is you; you constantly +torture her, you are merciless.”</p> + +<p>“She shot my husband.”</p> + +<p>“She shot your murderer! Another moment and Ferdie might have killed +you.”</p> + +<p>“And if I preferred it? At any rate, <i>she</i> had no right to interfere,” +cried Cicely, springing up.</p> + +<p>“Why were you running away from him, then, if you preferred it? You fled +to her room, and asked for help; you begged her to come out with you.”</p> + +<p>“It was on account of baby,” answered Cicely, her voice like that of a +little girl, her breast beginning to heave.</p> + +<p>“And she saved your child’s life a second time—on Lake Superior.”</p> + +<p>“I know it—I know it. But you cannot expect—”</p> + +<p>“I expect nothing; you are absolutely unreasonable, and profoundly +selfish.”<a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a></p> + +<p>“I’m not selfish. I only want to make her suffer!” cried Cicely, with +sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>Paul looked at her sternly. “In that dress you appear like a courtesan; +and now you talk like one. It is a good thing my brother was taken off, +after all—with such a wife!”</p> + +<p>Cicely sank down at his feet. “Oh, don’t say that, Paul; it is not true. +All this—these are the things that are underneath, they are the things +that touch me; you never see them when I am dressed. It is only that I +always liked to be nice for <i>him</i>; that is the reason I had all this +lace; and I keep it up, because I want him to think of me always as just +the same; yes, even when I am old. For I know he does think of me, and +he sees me too; he is often here. Listen,—I can’t help hating Eve, +Paul. But it only comes in little whiffs, now and then. Supposing <i>I</i> +had shot <i>her</i>, could you like <i>me</i>, after that?” She rose, holding up +her hands to him pleadingly. “In one way I love Eve.”</p> + +<p>“Yet you let her go! Heaven knows where she is now.”</p> + +<p>He turned his head away sharply. But she saw his tears. “No, Paul,” she +cried, terrified, “she isn’t dead—if you mean that; she told me once, +‘As long as he is in the world, I want to live!’”</p> + +<p>“Well—I shall go after her,” said Paul, controlling himself. He turned +towards the door.</p> + +<p>Cicely followed him. “Say good-by to me.” She put up her face.</p> + +<p>He touched her forehead with his lips. Then he held her off for a +moment, and looked at her. “Poor child!” he said.</p> + +<p>He returned to the house for his travelling-bag; he<a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a> remembered that he +had left it in the parlor upon his arrival, five hours before.</p> + +<p>The pleasant, shabby room, as he opened the door, held a characteristic +group: Miss Sabrina, gliding about with plum-cake; the judge, pouring +cherry-bounce; Mistress Nannie Singleton, serenely seated, undergoing +the process of being brushed by Clementine and Powlyne, who made hissing +sounds like hostlers, and, standing on one foot in a bent attitude, held +out behind a long leg. Rupert Singleton, seated in the largest +arm-chair, was evidently paying compliments to Miss Leontine, who, +gratified and embarrassed, and much entangled with her wineglass, her +gloves, and her plate of cake, hardly knew, to use a familiar +expression, whether she was on her head or her heels. Not that Miss +Sabrina would have mentioned her heels; to her, heels, shins, and ribs +did not exist, in a public way; they were almost medical terms, +belonging to the vocabulary of the surgeon.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon; I think I left my bag here,” said Paul.</p> + +<p>“I had it taken to your room,” answered Miss Sabrina, coming forward. +“Powlyne, go with Mr. Tennant.”</p> + +<p>“Let her bring it down, please; I am leaving immediately,” said Paul, +shaking hands with his hostess in farewell.</p> + +<p>The judge followed him out. “Leaving, did you say? But you’ve only just +come.”</p> + +<p>“I am going to Charleston.—I must follow Miss Bruce without a moment’s +delay.”</p> + +<p>“Has <i>she</i> gone!” There was a gleam of triumph in the old Georgian’s +eyes as he said this. “You<a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a> will find Charleston a very pleasant place,” +he added, politely.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV.</h2> + +<p>“D<small>RIVE</small> to the New York steamer.”</p> + +<p>“She’s off, boss. Past her time.”</p> + +<p>“Drive, I tell you.”</p> + +<p>The negro coachman cracked his whip, his two rawboned steeds broke into +a gallop; the loose-jointed landau behind clattered and danced over the +stones.</p> + +<p>“Faster,” said Paul.</p> + +<p>The negro stood up, he shook the reins over the backs of his team with a +galloping motion that corresponded with the sound of their feet; in +addition, he yelled without intermission. They swayed round corners, +they lurched against railings and other carriages; every head turned, +people made way for them as for a fire-engine; at last they reached the +harbor, and went clattering down the descent to the dock. Here there met +them the usual assemblage of loiterers, who were watching the steamer, +which was already half a mile distant, churning the blue water into foam +behind her, her nose pointed straight towards Sumter.</p> + +<p>Paul watched the line of her smoke for a moment; then he got out of his +carriage, paid the coachman mechanically, told him to take his luggage +to the Charleston Hotel, and walked away, unconscious alike of the +mingled derision and sympathy which his late arrival had drawn from the +group—boys with market-baskets, girls with baby-wagons, slouching +mulattoes with fishing-tackle, and little negroes<a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a> of tender age with +spongy lips and bare prehensile toes, to whose minds the departure of +the steamer was a daily drama of intensest interest and excitement.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be done until evening, when he could take the fast +train to New York. Paul went to the Battery; but noticed nothing. A band +from the arsenal began to play; immediately over all the windows of the +tall old houses which looked seaward the white shades descended; +Northern music was not wanted there. He went up Meeting Street; and +noticed nothing. Yet on each side, within sight, were picturesque ruins, +and St. Michael’s spire bore the marks of the bomb-shells of the siege. +He opened the gate of the church-yard of the little Huguenot church and +entered; the long inscriptions on the flat stones were quaint, but he +did not read them. He walked into the country by the shaded road across +the neck. Then he came back again. He strolled hither and thither, he +stared at the old Manigault House. Finally, at three o’clock, he went to +the hotel.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later an omnibus came up; waiters in white and bell-boys +with wisp-brushes rushed out, dusty travellers descended; Paul, standing +under the white marble columns, looked on. He still stood there after +the omnibus had rolled away, and all was quiet, so quiet that a cat +stole out and crossed the street, walking daintily on its clean white +paving-stones, and disappearing under a wall opposite.</p> + +<p>A figure came to the doorway behind, Paul became conscious that he was +undergoing inspection; he turned, and scanned the gazer. It proved to be +a muscular, broad-shouldered man of thirty-five, with<a name="page_336" id="page_336"></a> a short yellow +beard and clumsy features, which were, however, lighted by keen blue +eyes; his clothes were dusty, he carried a travelling-bag; evidently he +was one of the travellers who had just arrived, coming from the Northern +train. A bell-boy came out and looked up and down the colonnade; then, +with his wisp-brush, he indicated Paul.</p> + +<p>“Dat’s him, sah.—You was a-asking.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the traveller. Putting his travelling-bag on a bench, +he walked up to Paul. “Think I know you. Mr. Tennant, isn’t it—Port aux +Pins? Saw your name on the book. I’m Dr. Knox—the one who was with your +brother.”</p> + +<p>Paul’s face changed, its fixed look disappeared. “Will you come to my +room?”</p> + +<p>“In twenty minutes. I must have a wash first, and something to eat. Be +here long?”</p> + +<p>“I go North at six o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I’ll look sharp, then; we’ll have time.”</p> + +<p>In twenty minutes he appeared at Paul’s door. The door was open, +revealing the usual bachelor’s room, with one window, a narrow bed, a +washstand, one chair, a red velvet sofa, with a table before it; the bed +was draped in white mosquito netting; the open window looked down upon a +garden, where were half a dozen negro nurses with their charges—pretty +little white children, overdressed, and chattering in the sweet voices +of South Carolina.</p> + +<p>“Curious that I should have run against you here, when this very moment +I am on my way to hunt you up,” said Knox, trying first the chair, and +then the sofa. “I landed twenty-four hours ago in New York; been off on +a long yachting excursion; started immediately after your brother’s +death,—perhaps<a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a> Miss Abercrombie told you? Whole thing entirely +unexpected; had to decide in ten minutes, and go on board in an hour, or +lose the chance; big salary, expenses paid; couldn’t afford to lose it. +I’d have written before starting, if it had been possible; but it +wasn’t. And after I was once off, my eyes gave way suddenly, and I had +to give them a rest. It wasn’t a thing to write, anyway; it was a thing +to <i>tell</i>. There was nothing to be done in any case, and such kind of +news will keep; so I decided that as soon as I landed, I’d come down +here and find out about you and Miss Abercrombie; then I was going up to +Port aux Pins—or wherever you were—to see you.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you can tell me—in three words—what all this is about,” +said Paul, who had not seated himself.</p> + +<p>“Yes, easy. What do you suppose was the cause of your brother’s death?”</p> + +<p>“Pistol-shot,” Paul answered, curtly.</p> + +<p>“No, that was over, I had cured him of that; I telegraphed you that the +wound wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t. No, sir; he died of a spree—of a +series of ’em.”</p> + +<p>Paul sat down.</p> + +<p>“I say, have some brandy? No? Well, then I’ll go on, and get it over. +But don’t you go to thinking that I’m down on Ferdie; I’m not, I just +loved that fellow; I don’t know when I’ve seen anybody that took me so. +I was called to him, you know, after those negroes shot him. ’Twasn’t in +itself a vital wound; only a tedious one; the difficulty was fever, but +after a while we subdued that. Of course I saw what was behind,—he had +had an attack of<a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a> something like delirium tremens; it was that which +complicated matters. Well, I went over there every day, sometimes twice +a day; I took the biggest sort of interest in the case, and, besides, we +got to be first-rate chums. I set about doing everything I could for +him, not only in the regular line of business, but also morally, as one +may call it; as a friend. You see, I wanted to open his eyes to the +danger he was in; he hadn’t the least conception of it. He thought that +it was only a question of will, and that his will was particularly +strong;—<i>that</i> sort of talk. Well, after rather a slow job of it, I +pronounced him cured—as far as the wound was concerned; all he needed +was rest. Did he take it? By George, sir, he didn’t! He slipped off to +Savannah, not letting me know a gleam of it, and there he was joined +by—I don’t know whether you have heard that there was a woman in the +case?”</p> + +<p>Paul nodded.</p> + +<p>“And she wasn’t the only one, though she supposed she was. From the +first, the drink got hold of him again. And this time it killed him,—he +led an awful life of it there for days. As soon as I found out that he +had gone—which wasn’t at once, as I had given up going over there +regularly—I chased up to Savannah after him as fast as I could tear,—I +had the feeling that he was going to the devil! I couldn’t find him at +first, though I scoured the town. And when I did, he was past +helping;—all I could do was to try to get him back to Romney; I wanted +him to die decently, at home, and not up there among those— Well, sir, +he died the next day. I couldn’t tell those women down there—Miss +Abercrombie, Mrs. Singleton, and her aunt,<a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a> Miss Peggy. They were all +there, of course, and crying; but they would have cried a great deal +worse if they had known the truth, and, as there was nothing to be +gained by it for any one, it seemed cruel to tell them. For good women +are awful fools, you know; they are a great deal harder than we are; +they think nothing of sending a man to hell; they’re awfully intolerant. +’Tany rate, I made up my mind that I’d say nothing except to you, +leaving it to you to inform the wife or not, as you thought best. Then, +suddenly, off I had to go on that yachting expedition. But as soon as I +landed I started; and, here I am—on the first stage of the journey.”</p> + +<p>Paul did not speak.</p> + +<p>“I say, do you take it so hard, then?” said Knox, with an embarrassed +laugh.</p> + +<p>Paul got up. “You have done me the greatest service that one man can do +another.” He put out his hand.</p> + +<p>Knox, much relieved, gave it a prolonged shake. “Faults and all, he was +the biggest kind of a trump, wasn’t he? Drunkards are death to the +women—to the wives and mothers and sisters; but some of ’em are more +lovable than lots of the moral skinflints that go nagging about, saving +a penny, and grinding everybody but themselves. The trouble with Ferdie +was that he was born without any conscience, just as some people have no +ear for music; it was a case of heredity; and heredity, you know—”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t excuse him to <i>me</i>,” said Paul.<a name="page_340" id="page_340"></a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV.</h2> + +<p>O<small>UTSIDE</small> of a walled town in North Italy there stands, on a high hill, an +old villa, which, owing to its position, is visible for miles in every +direction. It was built in the fourteenth century. Its once high tower +was lowered in <small">A. D.</small> 1423. Its blank yellow walls are long, pierced +irregularly by large windows, which are covered with iron cages; massive +doors open upon a square court-yard within; an avenue of cypresses leads +up the bare hill to the entrance.</p> + +<p>Sixteen days after the conversation between Paul Tennant and Edward +Knox, three persons were standing in the court-yard of this villa behind +the closed outer doors. The court-yard was large, open to the sky; a +stone shield, bearing three carved wolves, was tilted forward on one of +the walls; opposite, over a door, there was a headless figure of a man +in armor; a small zinc cross over a smaller door marked the entrance to +the family chapel. In one corner stood a circular stone well, with a +yellow marble parapet supported by grinning masks; in another hung a +wire cord that led to a bell above, which was covered by a little turret +roof, also bearing a cross. There were no vines or flowers, not a green +leaf; the yard was bare, paved with large stones, which, though ancient, +were clean; the blades of grass marking the interstices, usual in Italy, +were absent here.</p> + +<p>Of the three persons who stood together near the well, one was a stout +woman with a square face, an<a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a> air of decision and business-like +cheerfulness, and pretty hands which she kept crossed on her black +dress. The second was a small, thin man of fifty. The third was Paul +Tennant.</p> + +<p>“I have heard your reasons, I am not satisfied with them,” Paul was +saying; “I must insist upon seeing her.”</p> + +<p>“But consider, pray—when I tell you that she does not <i>wish</i> to see +you,” said the woman, rubbing her hands together, and then looking at +them inspectingly.</p> + +<p>“How can I be sure of that?”</p> + +<p>“You have my word for it.”</p> + +<p>“It is as Mrs. Wingate says,” interposed the small, thin man, earnestly. +His voice was clear and sweet.</p> + +<p>“Miss Bruce may have said it. But when we have once met—”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think I’ll go in now,” interrupted Mrs. Wingate, giving her +hands a last rub, looking at them, and then crossing them on her black +dress again. “I’ve given you twenty minutes, but I’ve a thousand things +to do; all the clothes to cut out—fancy! I leave you with Mr. Smith. +Good-day.”</p> + +<p>“Instead of leaving me, you had better take me to Miss Bruce,” said +Paul.</p> + +<p>She shook her finger at him. “Do you think I’d play her such a trick as +that?” She crossed the court, opened a door, and disappeared.</p> + +<p>Paul turned impatiently to Mr. Smith. “There is something that Miss +Bruce must know. Call her down immediately.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith was silent. Then he said: “I might evade, but I prefer not to; +the lady you speak of<a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a> has asked our protection, and especially from +you; she is soon to be taken into the Holy Church.”</p> + +<p>“So you’re a priest, are you?” said Paul, in a fury.</p> + +<p>“And that woman Wingate is your accomplice? Now I know where to have +you!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith did not quail, though Paul’s fist was close under his nose. “I +am not a priest; Mrs. Wingate is an English lady of fortune, who devotes +her life to charitable works. Miss Bruce came to us of her own accord, +only three days ago. She was ill and unhappy. Now she is—tranquil.”</p> + +<p>“Is she—is she alive?” said Paul, his voice suddenly beginning to +tremble. It had come to him that Eve was dead.</p> + +<p>“She is. I may as well tell you that she did not wish to be; but—but it +has been represented to her that our lives are not our own, to cut short +as we please; and so she has repented.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe she has repented!” said Paul, with inconsequent anger. +He hated the word, and the quiet little man.</p> + +<p>“She told me that she had killed some one,” Mr. Smith went on, in a +whisper, his voice, even in a whisper, however, preserving its +sweetness.</p> + +<p>“See here!” said Paul, taking him by the arm eagerly; “that is what I +have come for; all these months she has thought so, but it is a mistake; +he died from another cause.”</p> + +<p>“Thank God!” said Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>“Thank God and bring her out, man! <i>She</i> is the one to know.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do what I can. But it may not be thought best by those in +authority; I must warn you that I shall obey the orders of my superior, +in any case.”<a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a></p> + +<p>“Yet you don’t look like an ass!”</p> + +<p>“Wait here, please,” said Mr. Smith, without noticing this comment. He +opened a door beside the chapel (not the one by which Mrs. Wingate had +entered), and, going in, gently closed it behind him.</p> + +<p>Paul waited. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. He tried all the doors; +they were locked. He went over to the corner where the bell-rope hung +and pulled it twice; “cling-clang! cling-clang!” sounded the bell in its +turret.</p> + +<p>In answer a window opened above, and a large, placid Italian peasant +appeared, looking at him amiably.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Smith?” said Paul.</p> + +<p>“Fuori.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Wingate, then?”</p> + +<p>“Fuori.”</p> + +<p>“There’s only one road—the one by which I came up, and I haven’t heard +any carriage drive away; if ‘Fuori’ means out, you are not telling the +truth; they are not out, they are here.”</p> + +<p>The Italian smiled, still amiably.</p> + +<p>“Is there any one here who speaks English?” said Paul, in despair.</p> + +<p>“Ingleese? Si.” She went off with the same serene expression. Before +long she appeared again at a door below, which she left open; Paul could +see a bare stone-floored hall, with a staircase at the end.</p> + +<p>Presently down the staircase came a quick-stepping little old woman, +with a black lace veil on her head; she came briskly to the door. “I +hear you wish to speak to me?”<a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a></p> + +<p>“You’re an American,” said Paul. “I’m glad of that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re another, and I’m not glad of it! Americans are limited. +Besides, they are Puritans. My being an American doesn’t make any +difference to <i>you</i>, that I know of.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it does. You come from a country where no one is shut up.”</p> + +<p>“<i>How about the prisons</i>?”</p> + +<p>“<i>For criminals, yes</i>. <i>Not for girls</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Girls are silly. Have nothing to do with them until they are older; +that’s <i>my</i> advice,” said the old lady, alertly.</p> + +<p>“Do you know Miss Bruce?”</p> + +<p>“A little.”</p> + +<p>“Take me to her.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t, she is in retreat.”</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t approve of force being used for any one; I am sure you +would not,” said Paul, trying to speak gently.</p> + +<p>“Force? Force is never used here, you must be out of your mind. If you +do not see Miss Bruce, you may depend that it is because she does not +<i>wish</i> to see you.”</p> + +<p>“She would—if she could hear me say one word!”</p> + +<p>“No doubt you’d cajole her! I’m glad she is where you can’t get at her, +poor dear!”</p> + +<p>“She was to have been my wife two weeks ago,” said Paul, making a last +effort to soften her.</p> + +<p>“Well, go home now; she’ll never be your wife <i>this</i> side the grave,” +said the old lady, laughing.</p> + +<p>“I’ll make all Italy ring with it, madam. This old house shall come down +about your ears.”</p> + +<p>“Mercy me! We’re not Italians, we’re English.<a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a> And we’ve got a +government protection; it’s a charitable institution.”</p> + +<p>“For inveigling people, and getting their money! Miss Bruce, you know, +has money.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know a thing about it—not a thing! Money, has she? Well, +Ernestine Wingate <i>does</i> like money; she wants to build a new wing. Look +here, young man, Father Ambrose is coming here to-day; you want to see +<i>him</i>. He’ll do what’s right, he is a very good man; and he commands all +the others; they have to do as he says, whether they like it or not,—I +guess you’d better not <i>hurry</i> away.” And, with a nod in which there was +almost a wink, the American convert went back down the hall and up the +stairway, disappearing through a door which closed with a sharp bang +behind her.</p> + +<p>Paul crossed the court-yard, and, opening one of the great portals, he +passed through, shutting it behind him. Outside, attached to the wall of +the villa, there ran a long, low stone bench, crumbling and overgrown +with ivy; he sat down here, and remained motionless.</p> + +<p>An hour later a carriage drove up, and a priest descended; he was a man +of fifty-eight or there-abouts, tall, with a fine bearing and an +agreeable face. Paul went up to him, touching his hat as he did so. “Are +you going in?”</p> + +<p>“That is what I have come for,” answered the priest, smiling.</p> + +<p>The doors, meanwhile, had been thrown open; the priest passed in, +followed by Paul.</p> + +<p>When they reached the court-yard the priest stopped. “Will you kindly +tell me your business?”</p> + +<p>“It concerns Miss Bruce, an American who has<a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a> only been here a few days. +She came, supposing that the death of my brother was due to an act of +hers; I have just learned that she is completely mistaken, he died from +another cause.”</p> + +<p>“God be praised! She has been very unhappy—very,” said the priest, with +sympathy. “This will relieve her.”</p> + +<p>“I should like to see her.—The whole community can be present, if you +please.”</p> + +<p>“That will hardly be necessary,” said Father Ambrose, smiling again. He +went towards the door by the side of the chapel. “I will tell her +myself, I will go at once.” He opened the door.</p> + +<p>“I prefer to see her. You have no real authority over her, she has not +yet taken the vows.”</p> + +<p>“There has been no talk of vows,” said Father Ambrose, waving his hand +with an amused air. “Every one is free here, I don’t know what you are +thinking of! If you will give me your address, Miss Bruce will write to +you.”</p> + +<p>“Do you refuse to let me see her?”</p> + +<p>“For the present—yes. You must remember that we don’t know who you +are.”</p> + +<p>“She will tell you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; she is very intelligent,” answered the priest, entering the +doorway and preparing to mount the stairs.</p> + +<p>But Paul knocked him down.</p> + +<p>Then he ran forward up the stairs; he opened doors at random, he ran +through room after room; women met him, and screamed. At last, where the +hall turned sharply, Mr. Smith confronted him. Mr. Smith was perfectly +composed.</p> + +<p>“Let me pass,” said Paul.<a name="page_347" id="page_347"></a></p> + +<p>“In a moment. All shall be as you like, if you will wait—”</p> + +<p>“Wait yourself!” cried Paul, felling him to the floor. Then he ran on.</p> + +<p>At the end of the hall Mrs. Wingate stopped him. Her manner was +unaltered; it was business-like and cheerful; her plump hands were +clasped over her dress.</p> + +<p>“Now,” she said, “no more violence! You’ll hardly knock down a woman, I +suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Forty, if necessary.”</p> + +<p>He thrust her against the wall, and began trying the doors. There were +three of them. Two were locked. As his hand touched the third, Mrs. +Wingate came to his side, and opened it promptly and quietly.</p> + +<p>“No one has ever wished to prevent your entrance,” she said. “Your +violence has been unnecessary—the violence of a boor!”</p> + +<p>Paul laughed in her face.</p> + +<p>There was no one in the room. But there was a second door. He opened it. +And took Eve in his arms.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="c"><small>THE END.</small></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Jupiter Lights, by Constance Fenimore Woolson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUPITER LIGHTS *** + +***** This file should be named 34282-h.htm or 34282-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/8/34282/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jupiter Lights + +Author: Constance Fenimore Woolson + +Release Date: November 11, 2010 [EBook #34282] +[Last updated: April 28, 2012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUPITER LIGHTS *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +JUPITER LIGHTS + +A Novel + +BY + +CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON + +AUTHOR OF "ANNE" "EAST ANGELS" "FOR THE MAJOR" ETC. + +NEW YORK +HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE +1889 + +Copyright, 1889, by HARPER & BROTHERS. + +_All rights reserved_. + + + + +JUPITER LIGHTS. + + + + +I. + + +"It's extraordinary navigation, certainly," said Miss Bruce. + +"Oh, mem, if you please, isn't it better than the hother?" answered +Meadows, respectfully. + +Meadows was Miss Bruce's maid; one could have told that she was English +(even if one had not heard her speak) from her fresh, rosy complexion, +her smooth hair put plainly and primly back from her forehead, her +stiff-backed figure with its elbows out, and her large, thick-soled +boots. + +"I don't mind being 'umped-up on the bank, miss, if you please," she +went on in her sweet voice, dropping her h's (and adding them, too) in +unexpected places. "It's those great waves we 'ad last week, mem, if you +please, that seemed so horful." + +"I am sorry you will have to see them again so soon," Miss Bruce +answered, kindly. + +For Meadows was to return to England immediately; she was accompanying +the American lady for the journey only. Miss Bruce was not rich; in her +own land she did not intend to give herself the luxury of a +lady's-maid--an indulgence more unusual in the great Republic (at least +the northern half of it) than fine clothes, finer houses, or the finest +diamonds. + +The little steamboat which carried these travellers was aground in a +green plain, a grassy, reedy prairie, which extended unbroken as far as +the eye could reach on all sides save one; here there was, at some +distance, a bank or shore of dark land, dark in comparison with the +green. Beyond this shore--and one could easily see over it--stretched +the sea, "the real sea," as Miss Bruce called it, "and not all this +grass!" It was this remark of hers which had drawn out the protest of +poor Meadows. + +Miss Bruce had crossed from England to New York; she had then journeyed +southward, also by sea, to Savannah, and from that leafy town, as fair +as is its name, she had continued her voyage in this little boat, the +_Altamaha_, by what was called the Inland Route, a queer, amusing +passage, winding in and out among the sounds and bays, the lagoons and +marsh channels of the coast, the ocean almost always in sight on the +left side, visible over the low islands which constantly succeeded each +other, and which formed the barrier that kept out the "real sea," that +ravaging, ramping, rolling, disturbing surface upon whose terrific +inequalities the Inland Route relied for its own patronage. There were +no inequalities here, certainly, unless one counted as such the +sensation which Meadows had described as "being 'umped up." The channel +was very narrow, and as it wound with apparent aimlessness hither and +thither in the salt-marsh, it made every now and then such a short turn, +doubling upon itself, that the steamer, small as she was, could only +pass it by running ashore, and then allowing her bows to be hauled +round ignominiously by the crew in a row-boat; while thus ashore, one +side half out of water, her passengers, sitting on that side, had the +sensation which the English girl had pictured. At present the _Altamaha_ +had not run herself aground purposely, but by accident; the crew did not +descend to the row-boat this time, but, coming up on deck, armed with +long poles, whose ends they inserted in the near bank with an air of +being accustomed to it, they shoved the little craft into deep water +with a series of pushes which kept time to their chorus of + + "Ger-long! Ger-long! _Mo_-ses!" + +"I don't see how we are to get on here at all at night," said Miss +Bruce. + +But before night the marsh ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the +_Altamaha_ was gliding onward again between banks equally low and near, +but made of solid earth, not reeds. The sun sank in the west, the +gorgeous colors of the American sunset flamed in the sky. The returning +American welcomed them. She was not happy; she was as far as possible +from being what is called amiable; but for the moment she admired, +forgetting her own griefs. Then the after-glow faded; Meadows brought a +shawl from their tiny cabin and folded it round her mistress; it was the +23d of December, and the evening air was cool, but not cold. By-and-by +in the dusky twilight a gleam shone out ahead, like an immense star. + +"What is that, captain?" Miss Bruce asked, as this official happened to +pass near her chair. + +"That? Jupiter Light." + +"Then we must be near Warwick?" She gave to the name its English +pronunciation, the only one she knew. + +The captain declined to say whether they were near it or not, as it was +a place he had never heard of. "The next landing is War-wick," he +announced, impersonally, pronouncing the name according to its spelling. + +"So near?" said Miss Bruce, rising. + +"No hurry. Ain't there yet." + +And so it proved. A moon rose, and with it a mist. The _Altamaha_, +ceasing her nosing progress through the little channels, turned sharply +eastward, and seemed suddenly to have entered the ocean, for great waves +began to toss her and knock her about with more and more violence, until +at last the only steady thing in sight was the blazing star of Jupiter +Light, which still shone calmly ahead. After half an hour of this rough +progress a low beach presented itself through the mist, and the blazing +star disappeared, its place being taken by a spectral tower, tall and +white, which stood alone at the end of a long curving tongue of sand. +The steamer, with due caution, drew near a lonely little pier. + +"It isn't much of a place, then?" said Miss Bruce, as the captain, in +the exigencies of making a safe landing with his cockle-shell, again +paused for a moment near her chair. + +"Place? Post-office and Romney; that's all. Slacken off that line +there--you hear? Slacken, I tell you!" + +A moment later the traveller, having made her way with difficulty +through the little boat's dark, wet, hissing lower regions, emerged, and +crossed a plank to the somewhat safer footing beyond. + +"Is this Cicely?" she asked, as a small figure came to meet her. + +"Yes, I am Cicely." + +Eve Bruce extended her hand. But Cicely put up her face for a warmer +greeting. + +"Are those your trunks? Oh, you have brought some one with you?" + +"It's only Meadows, my maid; she goes back to-morrow when the boat +returns." + +"There's room for her, if you mean that; the house is large enough for +anything. I was only wondering what our people would make of her; they +have never seen a white servant in their lives." + +"You didn't bring--the baby?" asked Eve Bruce. + +"Jack? Oh, no; Jack's asleep." + +Eve quivered at the name. + +"Are you cold?" said Cicely. "We'll start as soon as that hissing boat +gets off. I hope you don't mind riding behind a mule? Oh, look!" and she +seized her companion's arm. "Uncle Abram is shocked that your maid--what +did you call her--Fields?--should be carrying anything--a white lady, as +he supposes; and he is trying to take the bag away from her. She's +evidently frightened; Pomp and Plato haven't as many clothes on as they +might have, I acknowledge. Oh, do look!" + +Eve, still quivering, glanced mechanically in the direction indicated. + +A short negro, an old man with abnormally long arms, was endeavoring to +take from Meadows's grasp a small hand-bag which she was carrying. Again +and again he tried, and the girl repulsed him. Two more negroes +approached, and lifted one of the trunks which she was guarding. She +followed the trunk; and now Uncle Abram, coming round on the other +side, tried to get possession of a larger bag which she held in her left +hand. She wrenched it from him several times desperately, and then, as +he still persisted, she used it as a missile over the side of his head, +and began to shriek and run. + +The noise of the hissing steam prevented Miss Bruce from calling to her +distracted handmaid. + +Cicely laughed and laughed. "I didn't expect anything half so funny," +she said. + +The little _Altamaha_ now backed out from the pier into rough water +again, and the hissing ceased. Besides the dark heaving waves, the tall +light-house, and the beach, there was now nothing to be seen but a row +of white sand-hills which blocked the view towards the north. + +"This is the sea-shore, isn't it?" said Eve. As she asked her question +her voice had in her own ears a horribly false sound; she was speaking +merely for the sake of saying something; Cicely's "I didn't expect +anything half so funny" had hurt her like the edge of a knife. + +"Oh, no; this isn't the sea; this is the Sound," Cicely answered. "The +sea is round on the other side. You will hear it often enough at Romney; +it booms dreadfully after a storm." + +Plato and Pomp now emerged from the mist, each leading a mule; one of +these animals was attached to a wagon which had two seats, and the other +to a rough cart. + +"Will you get in, please?" said Cicely, going towards the wagon. "I +reckon your maid had better come with us." + +"Meadows! Meadows!" called Miss Bruce. "Never mind the luggage; it is +quite safe. You are to come with us in this wagon." + +"Yes, mem," responded the English voice. The girl had ceased running; +but she still stood guard over the trunks. "And shall I bring the +dressing-bags with me, mem?" she added. + +"She is bringing them whether or no," said her mistress; "I knew she +would. She likes to pretend that one contains a gold-mounted +dressing-case and the other a jewel-casket; she is accustomed to such +things, and considers them the proper appendages of a lady." Her voice +still had to herself a forced sound. But Cicely noticed nothing. + +The two ladies climbed into the wagon and placed themselves on the back +seat; Meadows, still hugging the supposed treasures, mounted gingerly to +her place beside Uncle Abram, disarmed a little by his low brows; and +then, after some persuasion, the mule was induced to start, the cart +with the luggage following behind, Plato and Pomp beside it. The road +was deeply covered with sand; both mules could do no more than walk. At +last, after passing the barrier of sand-hills, they came to firmer +ground; bushes began to appear, and then low trees. The trees all +slanted westward. + +"The wind," Cicely explained. + +The drive lasted half an hour. "Meadows, put down those bags," said Eve; +"they are too heavy for you. But not too near Mrs. Bruce--to trouble +her." + +The wagon was passing between two high gate-posts (there was no gate); +it entered an avenue bordered with trees whose boughs met overhead, +shutting out the moonlight. But Uncle Abram knew the way; and so did the +mule, who conducted his wagon over the remaining space, and up to the +porch of a large low house, in a sudden wild gallop. "Hi-yi!" said Uncle +Abram, warningly; "All ri', den, ef yer wanter," he added, rattling the +reins. "Lippity-clip!" + +The visitor's eyes perceived lights, an open door, and two figures +waiting within. The wagon stopped, and Meadows dismounted from her +perch. But Cicely, before following her, put her face close to Eve's, +and whispered: "I'd better tell you now, so that you won't call me that +again--before the others: I'm not Mrs. Bruce any longer; my name is +Morrison. I married Ferdinand Morrison six months ago." After this +stupefying declaration she pressed Eve's hand, and, jumping lightly to +the ground, called out, "Bring the steps, some of you." + +There was a sudden dispersion of the group of negroes near the porch; a +horse-block with a flight of steps attached was brought, and placed in +position for the visitor's descent. It appeared that she needed this +assistance, for she had remained motionless in the wagon, making no +effort to follow Cicely's example. Now she descended, jealously aided by +Meadows, who had retained but one clear idea amid all these +bewilderments of night-drives with half-dressed blacks and mad mules +through a desert of sand, and that was to do all in her power for the +unfortunate lady whom for the moment she was serving; for what must her +sufferings be--to come from Hayling Hall to this! + +"Here is Eve," Cicely said, leading the visitor up the steps. + +The white-haired man and the tall woman who had been waiting within, +came forward. + +"Grandpa," said Cicely, by way of introduction. "And Aunt Sabrina." + +"My father, Judge Abercrombie," said the tall lady, correctingly. Then +she put her arms round Eve and kissed her. "You are very welcome, my +dear. But how cold your hands are, even through your gloves! Dilsey, +make a fire." + +"I am not cold," Eve answered. + +But she looked so ill that the judge hastily offered her his arm. + +She did not accept it. "It is nothing," she said. Anger now came to her +aid, Cicely's announcement had stunned her. "I am perfectly well," she +went on, in a clear voice. "It has been a long voyage, and that, you +know, is tiresome. But now that it is over, I shall soon be myself +again, and able to continue my journey." + +"Continue! Are you going any further, then?" inquired Miss Abercrombie, +mildly. "I had hoped--we have all hoped--that you would spend a long +time with us." Miss Abercrombie had a soft voice with melancholy +cadences; her tones had no rising inflections; all her sentences died +gently away. + +"You are very kind. It will be impossible," Miss Bruce responded, +briefly. + +While speaking these words they had passed down the hall and entered a +large room on the right. A negro woman on her knees was hastily lighting +a fire on the hearth, and, in another moment, the brilliant blaze, +leaping up, made a great cheer. Cicely had disappeared. Judge +Abercrombie, discomfited by the visitor's manner, rolled forward an +arm-chair vaguely, and then stood rubbing his hands by the fire, while +his daughter began to untie Miss Bruce's bonnet strings. + +"Thanks; I will not take it off now. Later, when I go to my room." And +the visitor moved away from the friendly fingers. Miss Sabrina was very +near-sighted. She drew her eye-glasses furtively from her pocket, and, +turning her back for an instant, put them on; she wished to have a +clearer view of John Bruce's sister. She saw before her a woman of +thirty (as she judged her to be; in reality Eve was twenty-eight), tall, +broad-shouldered, slender, with golden hair and a very white face. The +eyes were long and rather narrow; they were dark blue in color, and they +were not pleasant eyes--so Miss Sabrina thought; their expression was +both angry and cold. The cheeks were thin, the outline of the features +bold. The mouth was distinctly ugly, the full lips prominent, the +expression sullen. At this moment Cicely entered, carrying a little +child, a boy of two years, attired only in his little white night-gown; +his blue eyes were brilliant with excitement, his curls, rumpled by +sleep, was flattened down on one side of his head and much fluffed up on +the other. The young mother came running across the slippery floor, and +put him into Miss Bruce's arms. "There he is," she said--"there's your +little Jack. He knows you; I have talked to him about you scores of +times." + +The child, half afraid, put up a dimpled hand and stroked Eve's cheek. +"Auntie?" he lisped, inquiringly. Then, after inspecting her carefully, +still keeping up the gentle little stroke, he announced with decision, +"Ess; Aunty Eve!" + +Eve drew him close, and hid her face on his bright hair. Then she rose +hurriedly, holding him in her arms, and, with an involuntary motion, +moved away from Cicely, looking about the room as if in search of +another place, and finally taking refuge beside Miss Sabrina, drawing a +low chair towards her with the same unseeing action and sinking into it, +the baby held to her breast. + +Tall Miss Sabrina seemed to understand; she put one arm round their +guest. Cicely, thus deserted, laughed. Then she went to her grandfather, +put her arm in his, and they left the room together. When the door had +closed after them, Eve raised her eyes. "He is the image of Jack!" she +said. + +"Yes, I know it," answered Miss Sabrina. "And I knew how it would affect +you, my dear. But I think it is a comfort that he does look like him; +don't you? And now you must not talk any more about going away, but stay +here with us and love him." + +"Stay!" said Eve. She rose, and made a motion as if she were going to +give the child to her companion. But little Jack put up his hand again, +and stroked her cheek; he was crooning meanwhile to himself composedly a +little song of his own invention; it was evident that he would never be +afraid of her again. Eve kissed him. "Do you think she would give him to +me?" she asked, hungrily. "She cannot care for him--not as I do." + +Miss Sabrina drew herself up (in the excess of her sympathy, as well as +near-sightedness, she had been leaning so far forward that her flat +breast had rested almost on her knees). "Give up her child--her own +child? My niece? I think not; I certainly think not." She took off her +glasses and put them in her pocket decisively. + +"Then I shall take him from her. And you must help me. What will she +care in a month from now--a year? She has already forgotten his father." + +Miss Sabrina was still angry. But she herself had not liked her niece's +second marriage. "The simplest way would be to stay here for the +present," she said, temporizing. + +"Stay here? Now? How can you ask it?" + +Tears rose in the elder lady's eyes; she began to wipe them away +clandestinely one by one with her long taper finger. "It's a desolate +place now, I know; but it's very peaceful. The garden is pretty. And we +hoped that you wouldn't mind. We even hoped that you would like it a +little--the child being here. We would do all we could. Of course I know +it isn't much." + +These murmured words in the melancholy voice seemed to rouse in Eve +Bruce an even more stormy passion than before. She went to Miss Sabrina +and took hold of her shoulder. "Do you think I can stand seeing _him_," +she demanded--"here--in Jack's place? If I could, I would go to-night." +Turning away, she broke into tearless sobs. "Oh Jack--Jack--" + +Light dawned at last in Sabrina Abercrombie's mind. "You mean Mr. +Morrison?" she said, hurriedly rising. "You didn't know, then? Cicely +didn't tell you?" + +"She told me that she had married again; nothing more. Six months ago. +She let me come here--you let me come here--without knowing it." + +"Oh, I thought you knew it," said Miss Sabrina, in distress. "I did not +like the marriage myself, Miss Bruce; I assure you I did not. I was very +fond of John, and it seemed too sudden. If she had only waited the +year--and two years would have been so much more appropriate. I go there +very often--to John's grave--indeed I do; it is as dear to me as the +graves of my own family, and I keep the grass cut very carefully; I will +show you. You remember when I wrote you that second time? I feared it +then, though I was not sure, and I tried to prepare you a little by +saying that the baby was now your chief interest, naturally. And _he_ +wasn't going to be married," she added, becoming suddenly incoherent, +and taking hold of her throat with little rubs of her thumb and +forefinger as Eve's angry eyes met hers; "at least, not that we knew. I +did not say more, because I was not sure, Miss Bruce. But after it had +really happened, I supposed of course that Cicely wrote to you." + +"She!" + +"But Mr. Morrison is not here; he is not here, and never has been. She +met him in Savannah, and married him there; it was at a cousin's. But +she only stayed with him for a few months, and we fear that it is not a +very happy marriage. He is in South America at present, and you know how +far away that is. I haven't the least idea when he is coming back." + +The door at the end of the room opened. Cicely's little figure appeared +on the threshold. Miss Sabrina, who seemed to know who it was by +intuition, as she could see nothing at that distance, immediately began +to whisper. "Of course we don't _know_ that it is an unhappy marriage; +but as she came back to us so soon, it struck us so--it made that +impression; wouldn't it have made the same upon you? She must have +suffered extremely, and so we ought to be doubly kind to her." And she +laid her hand with a warning pressure on Eve's arm. + +"I am not likely to be unkind as long as there is the slightest hope of +getting this child away from her," answered Eve. "For she is the mother, +isn't she? She couldn't very well have palmed off some other baby on +you, for Jack himself was here then, I know. Oh, you needn't be afraid, +I shall defer to her, yield to her, grovel to her!" She bent her head +and kissed the baby's curls. But her tone was so bitter that poor Miss +Sabrina shrank away. + +Cicely had called to them, "Supper is ready." She remained where she was +at the end of the long room, holding the door open with her hand. + + + + +II. + + +The father of John and Eva Bruce was an officer in the United States +army. His wife had died when Eve was born. Captain Bruce brought up his +children as well as he could; he would not separate himself from them, +and so he carried them about with him to the various military stations +to which he was ordered. When his boy was sixteen, an opportunity +presented itself to him: an old friend, Thomas Ashley, who was +established, and well established, in London, offered to take the lad, +finish his education, and then put him into the house, as he called it, +the house being the place of business of the wealthy English-American +shipping firm to which he had the good-fortune to belong. + +Captain Bruce did not hesitate. Jack was sent across the seas. Eve, who +was then ten years old, wept desperately over the parting. Six years +later she too went to England. Her father had died, and, young as she +was, her determination to go to her brother was so strong that nothing +could stand against it. During the six years of separation Jack had +returned to America twice to see his father and sister; the tie between +the three had not been broken by absence, but only made stronger. The +girl had lived a concentrated life, therefore an isolated one. She had +had her own way on almost all occasions. It was said of her, "Any one +can see that she has been brought up by a man!" In reality there were +two men; for Jack had seemed to her a man when he was only twelve years +old. Her father gone, her resolve to go to Jack was, as has been said, +so strong that nothing could stand against it. But in truth there was +little to oppose to it, and few to oppose her; no one, indeed, who could +set up anything like the force of will which she was exhibiting on the +other side. She had no near relatives; as for her father's old friends, +she rode over them. + +"You'll have to let her go; she puts out her mouth so!" said Mrs. Mason, +the colonel's wife, at last. The remark, as to its form, was incoherent; +but everybody at the post understood her. At sixteen, then, Eve Bruce +was sent to England. As soon as she was able she took a portion of the +property which came to her from her mother, to make a comfortable home +for Jack. For Jack had only his salary, and it was not a large one. He +had made himself acceptable in the house, and in due time he was to have +a small share of the profits; but the due time was not yet, and would +not be for some years. His father's old friend, who had been his friend +also, as well as his sponsor in the firm, had died. But his widow, who +liked the young American--she was an American herself, though long +expatriated--continued to extend to him much kindness; and, when his +sister came over, she included her in the invitations. Eve did not care +much for these opportunities, nor for the other opportunities that +followed in their train; occasionally she went to a dinner; but she +found her best pleasure in being with her brother alone. They remained +in London all the year round, save for six weeks in August and +September. Eve could have paid many a visit in the country during the +autumn and winter; but their small, ugly house near Hans Place was more +beautiful in her eyes, Jack being there, than the most picturesque +cottage with a lawn and rose garden, or even than an ivy-grown mansion +in a deer-haunted park. + +Thus brother and sister lived on for eight years. Then one morning, +early in 1864, Jack, who had chafed against his counting-house chains +ever since the April of Sumter, broke them short off; he too had a +determined mouth. "I can't stand it any longer, Eve; I am going home. +Fortunately you are provided for, or I couldn't. I shall lose my place +here, of course; but I don't care. Go I must." A week later he sailed +for New York. And he was soon in the army. "Blood will tell," said his +father's regimental companions--the few who were left. + +Eve, in London, now began to lead that life of watching the telegraphic +despatches and counting the days for letters which was the lot of +American women during those dark times of war. She remained in London, +because it was understood between them that Jack was to return. But she +rented their house, and lived in lodgings near by, so as to have all the +more money ready for him when he should come back. + +But Jack did not come back. When the war reached its end, he wrote that +he was going to be married; she was a Southern girl--he was even +particular as to her name and position: Cicely Abercrombie, the +granddaughter of Judge Abercrombie of Abercrombie's Island. Eve scarcely +read these names; she had stopped at "marry." + +He did marry Cicely Abercrombie in October of that year, 1865. + +He wrote long letters to his sister; he wished her to come out and join +them. He had leased two of the abandoned cotton plantations--great +things could be done in cotton now--and he was sure that he should make +his fortune. Eve, overwhelmed with her disappointment and her grief, +wrote and rewrote her brief replies before she could succeed in filling +one small sheet without too much bitterness; for Jack was still Jack, +and she loved him. He had never comprehended the exclusiveness, the +jealousy of her affection; he had accepted her devotion and enjoyed it, +but he had believed, without thinking much about it at any time, that +all sisters were like that. In urging her, therefore, to join them, he +did not in the least suspect that the chief obstacle lay in that very +word "them," of which he was so proud. To join "them," to see some one +else preferred; where she had been first, to take humbly a second place! +And who could tell whether this girl was worthy of him? Perhaps the +bitterest part of the suffering would be to see Jack himself befooled, +belittled. The sister, wretchedly unhappy, allowed it to be supposed, +without saying so--it was Jack who suggested it--that she would come +later; after she had disposed of the lease of their house, and sold +their furniture to advantage. In time the furniture was sold, but not to +advantage. The money which she had taken from her capital to make a +comfortable home for her brother was virtually lost. + +Presently it was only a third place that could be offered to her, for, +during the next winter, Jack wrote joyfully to announce the birth of a +son. He had not made his fortune yet; but he was sure to do so the next +year. The next year he died. + +Then Eve wrote, for the first time, to Cicely. + +In reply she received a long letter from Cicely's aunt, Sabrina +Abercrombie, giving, with real grief, the particulars of Jack's last +hours. He had died of the horrible yellow-fever. Eve was ill when the +letter reached her; her illness lasted many months, and kind-hearted +Mrs. Ashley took her, almost by force, to her place in the country, +beautiful Hayling Hall, in Warwickshire. When at last she was able to +hold a pen, Eve wrote again to Cicely; only a few lines (her first +epistle had not been much longer); still, a letter. The reply was again +from Miss Abercrombie, and, compared with her first communication, it +was short and vague. The only definite sentences were about the child; +"for _he_ is the one in whom you are most interested, _naturally_," she +wrote, under-scoring the "he" and the "naturally" with a pale line; the +whole letter, as regards ink, was very pale. + +And now Eve Bruce had this child. And she determined, with all the +intensity of her strong will, of her burning, jealous sorrow, that he +should be hers alone. With such a mother as Cicely there was everything +to hope. + + + + +III. + + +While the meal, which Cicely had announced as supper, was going on in +the dining-room, Meadows was occupying herself in her accustomed evening +effort to bring her mistress's abiding-place for the night, wherever it +might happen to be, into as close a resemblance to an English bedroom as +was, under the circumstances, possible. The resemblance had not been +striking, so far, with all her toil, there having been something +fundamentally un-English both in the cabins of the _Ville de Havre_ and +in the glittering salons which served as bedrooms in the Hotel of the +Universe in New York. The Savannah boat had been no better, nor the +shelf with a roof over it of the little _Altamaha_; on the steamer of +the Inland Route her struggle had been with an apartment seven feet +long; here at Romney it was with one which had six times that amount of +perspective. + +A fire, freshly lighted, flared on the hearth, the spicy odor of its +light wood still filling the air. And there was air enough to fill, for +not one of the doors nor of the row of white windows which opened to the +floor fitted tightly in its casing; there were wide cracks everywhere, +and Meadows furthermore discovered, to her horror, that the windows had +sashes which came only part of the way down, the lower half being closed +by wooden shutters only. She barred these apertures as well as she could +(some of the bars were gone), and then tried to draw the curtains; but +these muslin protections, when they reached the strong current of air +which came through the central crack of the shutters, were blown out +towards the middle of the room like so many long white ghosts. Meadows +surveyed them with a sigh; with a sigh she arranged the contents of Miss +Bruce's dressing-bag on the outlandish bare toilet-table; she placed the +slippers by the fire and drew forward the easiest chair. But when all +was done the room still remained uncomfortably large, and uncomfortably +empty. Outside, the wind whistled, the near sea gave out a booming +sound; within, the flame of the candle flared now here, now there, in +the counter-draughts that swept the room. + +"It certainly is the farawayest place!" murmured the English girl. + +There came a sound at the door; not a knock, but a rub across the +panels. This too was alarming. Meadows kept the door well bolted, and +called fearfully, "Who's there?" + +"It's ony me--Powlyne," answered a shrill voice. "I's come wid de wines; +Miss S'breeny, she sont me." + +The tones were unmistakably feminine; Meadows drew back the bolt and +peeped out. A negro girl of twelve stood there, bearing a tray which +held a decanter and wineglass; her wool was braided in little tails, +which stood out like short quills; her one garment was a calico dress, +whose abbreviated skirt left her bare legs visible from the knees +down-ward. + +"Do you want to come in?" said Meadows. "I can take it." And she +stretched out her hand for the tray. + +"Miss S'breeny she done tole me to put 'em myse'f on de little table +close ter der bed," answered Powlyne, craning her neck to look into the +room. + +Meadows opened the door a little wider, and Powlyne performed her +office. Seeing that she was very small and slight, the English girl +recovered courage. + +"I suppose you live here?" she suggested. + +"Yass, 'm." + +"And when there isn't any one else 'andy, they send you?" + +"Dey sonds me when dey wanster, I's Miss S'breeny's maid," answered +Powlyne, digging her bare heel into the matting. + +"Her maid?--for gracious sake! What can _you_ do?" + +"Tuckenoffener shoes. _En_ stockin's." + +"Tuckenoffener?" + +"Haul'em off. Yass,'m." + +"Well, if I hever!" murmured Meadows, surveying this strange coadjutor, +from the erect tails of wool to the bare black toes. + +There was a loud groan in the hall outside. Meadows started. + +"Unc' Abram, I spec, totin' up de wood," said Powlyne. + +"Is he ill?" + +"Ill!" said the child, contemptuously. "He's dat dair sassy ter-night!" + +"Is he coming in here? Oh, don't go away!" pleaded Meadows. She had a +vision of another incursion of black men in bathing costumes. + +But Uncle Abram was alone, and he was very polite; he bowed even before +he put the wood down, and several times afterwards. "Dey's cookin' +suppah for yer, miss," he announced, hospitably. "Dey'll be fried +chickens en fixin's; en hot biscuits; en jell; en coffee." + +"I should rather have tea, if it is equally convenient," said Meadows, +after a moment's hesitation. + +"Dere, now, doan yer _like_ coffee?" inquired Uncle Abram, looking at +her admiringly. For it was such an extraordinary dislike that only very +distinguished people could afford to have it. "Fer my part," he went on, +gazing meditatively at the fire which he had just replenished, "I 'ain't +nebber had 'nuff in all my borned days--no, not et one time. Pints +wouldn't do me. Ner yet korts. I 'ain't nebber had a gallion." + +Voices were now heard in the hall. Cicely entered, followed by Eve +Bruce. + +"All the darkies on the island will be coming to look at her to-morrow," +said Cicely, after Meadows had gone to her supper; "they'll be immensely +stirred up about her. She's still afraid--did you see?--she kept as far +away as she could from poor old Uncle Abram as she went down the hall. +The field hands will be too much for her; some of the little nigs have +no clothes at all." + +"She won't see them; she goes to-morrow." + +"That's as you please; if I were you, I would keep her. They will bring +a mattress in here for her presently; perhaps she has never slept on the +floor?" + +"I dare say not. But she can for once." + +Cicely went to one of the windows; she opened the upper half of the +shutter and looked out. "How the wind blows! Jupiter Light shines right +into your room." + +"Yes, I can see it from here," said Eve. "It's a good companion--always +awake." She was speaking conventionally; she had spoken conventionally +through the long supper, and the effort had tired her: she was not in +the least accustomed to concealing her thoughts. + +"Always awake. Are _you_ always awake?" said Cicely, returning to the +fire. + +"I? What an idea!" + +"I don't know; you look like it." + +"I must look very tired, then?" + +"You do." + +"Fortunately you do not," answered Eve, coldly. For there was something +singularly fresh about Cicely; though she had no color, she always +looked fair and perfectly rested, as though she had just risen from a +refreshing sleep. "I suppose you have never felt tired, really tired, in +all your life?" Eve went on. + +"N--no; I don't know that I have ever felt _tired_, exactly," Cicely +answered, emphasizing slightly the word "tired." + +"_You_ have always had so many servants to do everything for you," Eve +responded, explaining herself a little. + +"We haven't many now; only four. And they help in the fields whenever +they can--all except Dilsey, who stays with Jack." + +Again the name. Eve felt that she must overcome her dread of it. "Jack +is very like his father," she said, loudly and decidedly. + +"Yes," answered Cicely. Then, after a pause, "Your brother was much +older than I." + +"Oh, Jack was _young_!" + +"I don't mean that he was really old, he hadn't gray hair. But he was +thirty-one when we were married, and I was sixteen." + +"I suppose no one forced you to marry him?" said the sister, the flash +returning to her eyes. + +"Oh, yes." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I mean he did--Jack himself did. I thought that perhaps you would feel +so." + +"Feel how?" + +"Why, that we made him--that we tried, or that I tried. And so I have +brought some of his letters to show you." She took a package from her +pocket and laid it on the mantelpiece. "You needn't return them; you can +burn them after reading." + +"Oh, probably," answered Eve, incoherently. She felt choked with her +anger and grief. + +There was a murmuring sound in the hall, and Miss Sabrina, pushing the +door open with her foot, entered apologetically, carrying a jar of +dark-blue porcelain, ornamented with vague white dragons swallowing +their tails. The jar was large; it extended from her knees to her chin, +which rested upon its edge with a singular effect. "My dear," she said, +"I've brought you some po-purry; your room hasn't been slept in for some +time, though I _hope_ it isn't musty." + +The jar had no handles; she had difficulty in placing it upon the high +chest of drawers. Eve went to her assistance. And then Miss Sabrina +perceived that their guest was crying. Eve changed the jar's position +two or three times. Miss Sabrina said, each time, "Yes, yes; it is much +better so." And, furtively, she pressed Eve's hand. + +Jack Bruce's wife, meanwhile--forgotten Jack--stood by the hearth, +gazing at the fire. She was a little creature, slight and erect, with a +small head, small ears, small hands and feet. Yet somehow she did not +strike one as short; one thought of her as having the full height of her +kind, and even as being tall for so small a person. This effect was due, +no doubt, to her slender litheness; she was light and cool as the wind +at dawn, untrammelled by too much womanhood. Her features were delicate; +the oval of her face was perfect, her complexion a clear white without +color. Her lustreless black hair, very fine and soft, was closely +braided, the plaits arranged at the back of the head as flatly as +possible, like a tightly fitting cap. Her great dark eyes with long +curling lashes were very beautiful. They had often an absent-minded +look. Under them were bluish rings. Slight and smooth as she was--the +flesh of her whole body was extraordinarily smooth, as though it had +been rubbed with pumice-stone--she yet seemed in one way strong and +unyielding. She was quiet in her looks, in her actions, in her tones. + +Eve had now choked down her tears. + +"I sent Powlyne with some cherry-bounce," said Miss Sabrina, giving +Eve's hand, secretly, a last pressure, as they came back to the hearth. +"Your maid will find it--such a nice, worthy person as she seems to be, +too; so generally desirable all round. If she is really to leave you +to-morrow, you must have some one else. Let me see--" + +"I don't want any one, thanks," Eve answered. Two spots of color rose in +her cheeks. "That is, I don't want any one unless I can have Jack?" She +turned to Cicely, who still stood gazing at the fire. "May Jack sleep +here?" + +"With Dilsey?" said Cicely, lifting her eyes with a surprised glance. + +"Yes, with Dilsey. The room is large." + +"I am sure I don't care; yes, if you like. He cries at night sometimes." + +"I hope he will," responded Eve, and her tone was almost fierce. "Then I +can comfort him." + +"Dilsey does that better than any one else; he is devoted to her; when +he cries, I never interfere," said Cicely, laughing. + +Eve bit her lips to keep back the retort, "But _I_ shall!" + +"It is a sweet idea," said Miss Sabrina, in her chanting voice. "It is +sweet of Miss Bruce to wish to have him, and sweet of you, Cicely, to +let him go. We can arrange a little nursery at the other end of this +room to-morrow; there's a chamber beyond, where no one sleeps, and the +door could be opened through, if you like. I am sure it will be very +nice all round." + +Eve turned and kissed her. Cicely pushed back a burning log with her +foot, and laughed again, this time merrily. "It seems so funny, your +having the baby in here at night, just like a mother, when you haven't +been married at all. Now I have been married twice. To be sure, I never +meant to be!" + +"My precious child!" Miss Sabrina remonstrated. + +"No, auntie, I never did. It came about," Cicely answered, her eyes +growing absent again and returning to the fire. + +Meadows now came in with deferential step, and presently she was +followed by her own couch, which Uncle Abram spread out, in the shape of +a mattress, on the floor. The English girl looked on, amazed. But this +was a house of amazements; it was like a Drury Lane pantomime. + +Later, when the girl was asleep, Eve rose, and, taking the package of +letters, which she had put under her pillow, she felt for a candle and +matches, thrust her feet into her slippers, and, with her dressing-gown +over her arm, stole to the second door; it opened probably into the +unoccupied chamber of which Miss Sabrina had spoken. The door was not +locked; she passed through, closing it behind her. Lighting her candle, +she looked about her. The room was empty, the floor bare. She put her +candle on the floor, and, kneeling down beside it, opened the letters. +There were but four; apparently Cicely had thought that four would be +enough to confirm what she had said. They were enough. More passionate, +more determined letters man never wrote to woman; they did not plead so +much as insist; they compelled by sheer force of persistent +unconquerable love, which accepts anything, bears anything, to gain even +tolerance. + +And this was Jack, her brother Jack, who had thus prostrated himself at +the feet of that indifferent little creature, that cold, small, dark +girl who already bore another name! She was angry with him. Then the +anger faded away into infinite pity. "Oh, Jack, dear old Jack, to have +loved her so, she caring nothing for you! And I am to burn your poor +letters that you thought so much about--your poor, poor letters." +Sinking down upon the floor, she placed the open pages upon her knees, +laying her cheek upon them as though they had been something human. +"Some one cares for you," she murmured. + +There was now a wild gale outside. One of the shutters was open, and +she could see Jupiter Light; she sat there, with her cheek on the +letters, looking at it. + +Suddenly everything seemed changed, she no longer wept; she felt +sluggish, cold. "Don't I care any more?" she thought, surprised. She +rose and went back to her bed, glad to creep into its warmth, and +leaving the letters on a chair by her bedside. Then, duly, she put them +under her pillow again. + + + + +IV. + + +On Christmas Day, Eve was out with little Jack and Dilsey. Dilsey was a +negro woman of sixty, small and thin, with a wise, experienced face; she +increased her dignity as much as she could by a high stiff white turban, +but the rest of her attire was poor and old, though she was not +bare-legged like Powlyne; she wore stockings and shoes. Little Jack's +wagon was a rude cart with solid wooden wheels; but the hoops of its +hood had been twined with holly by the negroes, so that the child's face +was enshrined in a bower of green. + +"We will go to the sea," said Eve. "Unless it is too far for you and the +wagon?" + +"No, 'm; push 'em easy 'nuff." + +The narrow road, passing between unbroken thickets of glittering +evergreen bushes, breast-high, went straight towards the east, like an +unroofed tunnel; in twenty minutes it brought them to the shore. The +beach, broad, firm, and silver white, stretched towards the north and +the south, dotted here and there with drift-wood; a breeze from the +water touched their cheeks coolly; the ocean was calm, little +foam-crested wavelets coming gurgling up to curl over and flatten +themselves out on the wet sand. "Do you see it, Jack?" said Eve, +kneeling down by the wagon. "It's the sea, the great big sea." + +But Jack preferred to blow his whistle, and that done, he proceeded to +examine it carefully, putting his little fat forefinger into all the +holes. Eve sat down on the sand beside him; if he scorned the sea, for +the moment she did too. + +"I's des sauntered ober, Dilsey; dey 'ain't no hurry 'bout comin' back," +said a voice. "En I 'low'd miss might be tired, so I fotched a cheer." +It was old Temp'rance, the cook. + +"Did you bring that chair all the way for me?" asked Eve, surprised. + +"Yass, 'm. It's sut'ny pleasant here; it sut'ny is." + +"I am much obliged; but I shall be going back soon." + +The two old women looked at each other. "Dat dere ole wrack down der +beach is moughty cu'us--ef yer like ter walk dat way en see 'em?" +suggested Dilsey, after a pause. + +"Too far," said Eve. + +Both of the old women declared that it was very near. The wind +freshened; Eve, who had little Jack in her arms, feared lest he might +take cold, thinly clad as he was--far too thinly for her Northern +ideas--with only one fold of linen and his little white frock over his +breast. She drew the skirt of her dress over his bare knees. Then after +a while she rose and put him in his wagon. "We will go back," she said. + +Again the two old women looked at each other. But they were afraid of +the Northern lady; the munificent presents which she had given them that +morning did not bring them any nearer to her. Old Temp'rance, therefore, +shouldered her chair again, Dilsey turned the wagon, and they entered +the bush-bordered tunnel on their way home, walking as slowly as they +could. In only one place was there an opening through the serried green; +here a track turned off to the right. When Eve had passed its entrance +the first time, there was nothing to be seen but another perspective of +white sand and glittering foliage; but on their return her eyes, +happening to glance that way, perceived a group of figures at the end. +"Who are those people?--what are they doing?" she said, pausing. + +"Oh, nutt'n," answered Temp'rance. "Des loungjun roun'." + +As Eve still stood looking, Uncle Abram emerged from the bushes. "Shall +I kyar your palasol fer yer, miss?" he asked, officiously. "'Pears like +yer mus' be tired; been so fur." + +Eve now comprehended that the three were trying to keep something from +her. "What has happened?" she said. "Tell me immediately." + +"Dey' ain' nutt'n happen," answered Uncle Abram, desperately; "dey's too +brash, dem two! Miss S'breeny she 'low'd dat yer moutn't like ter see +her go a moanin', miss; en so she tole us not ter let yer come dishyer +way ef we could he'p it. But dem two--dey's boun' ter do some fool ting. +It's a cohesion of malice 'mong women--'tis dat!" + +"Does that road lead to the cemetery, too?" said Eve. "I went by another +way. Take baby home, Dilsey"--she stooped and kissed him; "I will join +Miss Abercrombie." She walked rapidly down the side track; the three +blacks stood watching her, old Temp'rance with the chair poised on her +turban. + +The little burying-ground was surrounded by an old brick wall; its high +gate-posts were square, each surmounted by a clumsy funeral urn. The +rusty iron gate was open, and a procession was passing in. First came +Miss Sabrina in her bonnet, an ancient structure of large size, trimmed +with a black ribbon; the gentle lady, when out-of-doors, was generally +seen in what she called her "flat;" the presence of the bonnet, +therefore, marked a solemn occasion. She likewise wore a long scarf, +which was pinned, with two pins, low down on her sloping shoulders, its +broche ends falling over her gown in front; her hands were encased in +black kid gloves much too large for her, the kid wrists open and +flapping. Behind her came Powlyne, Pomp, and Plato, carrying wreaths of +holly. Eve drew near noiselessly, and paused outside. Miss Sabrina first +knelt down, bowing her head upon her hands for a moment; then, rising, +she took the wreaths one by one, and arranged them upon the graves, the +three blacks following her. When she had taken the last, she signed to +them to withdraw; they went out quietly, each turning at the gate to +make a reverential bow, partly to her, partly to the circle of the dead. +Eve now entered the enclosure, and Miss Sabrina saw her. + +"Oh, my dear! I didn't intend that _you_ should come," she said, +distressed. + +"And why not? I have been here before; and my brother is here." + +"Yes; but to-day--to-day is different." + +Eve looked at the graves; she perceived that three of them were decked +with small Confederate flags. + +"Our dear cousins," said Miss Sabrina; "they died for their country, and +on Memorial Day, Christmas Day, and Easter I like to pay them such small +honor as I can. I am in the habit of singing a hymn before I go; don't +stay, my dear, if it jars upon you." + +"It doesn't," said Eve. She had seated herself on the grass beside her +brother's grave, with her arm laid over it. + +Miss Sabrina turned her back and put on her glasses. Then, resuming her +original position, she took a small prayer-book from her pocket, opened +it, and, after an apologetic cough, began: + + "Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings, + Thy better portion trace." + +Eve, sitting there, looked at her. Miss Sabrina was tall and slender; +she had once been pretty, but now her cheeks were wan, her eyes faded, +her soft brown hair was very thin. She had but a thread of a voice. + + "There is everlasting peace, + Rest, enduring rest, in heaven," + +she sang in her faint, sweet tones; and when she came to the words, +"There will sorrows ever cease," she raised her poor dim eyes towards +the sky with such a beautiful expression of hope in them that the +younger woman began to realize that there might be acute griefs even +when people were so mild and acquiescent, so dimly hued and submissive, +as was this meek Southern gentlewoman. + +The hymn finished, Miss Sabrina put her prayer-book in her pocket, and +came forward. "My mother," she said, touching one of the tombs. "My +grandfather and grandmother. My brother Marmaduke, Cicely's father. +Cicely's mother; she was a Northerner, and we have sometimes thought +Cicely rather Northern." + +"Oh, no!" + +"Well, her grandmother was from Guadeloupe. So perhaps that balances +it." + +The older tombs were built of brick, each one covered with a heavy +marble slab, upon which were inscribed, in stately old-fashioned +language, and with old-fashioned arrangement of lines and capitals, the +names, the virtues, and the talents of the one who lay beneath. The +later graves were simple grassy mounds. + +"My brother Augustus; my great-uncle William Drayton; my aunt Pamela," +Miss Sabrina continued, indicating each tomb as she named its occupant, +much as though she were introducing them. "My own place is already +selected; it is here," she went on, tapping a spot with her slender +foot. "It seems to me a good place; don't you think so? And I keep an +envelope, with directions for everything, on top of my collars, where +any one can find it; for I do so dislike an ill-arranged funeral. For +instance, I particularly desire that there should be fresh water and +glasses on the hall-table, where every one can get them without asking; +_so_ much better than hidden in some back room, with every one +whispering and hunting about after them. I trust you don't mind my +saying," she concluded, looking at Eve kindly, "that I hope you may be +here." + +They left the cemetery together. + +"I suppose it was a shock to you that your niece should marry a Union +officer?" Eve said, as they took the shorter path towards the house. + +"Ye-es, I cannot deny it; and to my father also. But we liked John for +himself very much; and Cicely felt--" + +But John's sister did not care to hear what Cicely felt! "And was it on +this island that he expected to make his fortune--in cotton?" + +"No; these are rice lands, and they are worthless now that the dikes are +down." + +"And the slaves gone." + +"Yes. But we never had many slaves; we were never rich. Now we are very +poor, my dear; I don't know that any one has mentioned it to you." + +"And yet you keep on all these infirm old negroes--those who would be +unable to get employment anywhere else." + +"Oh, we should never turn away our old servants," replied Miss Sabrina, +with confidence. + +That evening, at the judge's suggestion, Cicely took her guitar. "What +do you want me to sing, grandpa?" + +"'Sweet Afton.'" + +So Cicely sang it. Then the judge himself sang, to Cicely's +accompaniment, "They may rail at this life." He had made a modest bowl +of punch: it was Christmas night, and every one should be merry. So he +sang, in his gallant old voice: + + "'They may rail at this life; from the hour I began it + I've found it a life full of kindness and bliss; + And until they can show me some happier planet, + More social, more gay, I'll content me with this.'" + +He was contented with it--this life "full of kindness and bliss," on his +lonely sea-island, with its broken dikes and desolated fields, in his +half-ruined old house, with its wooden walls vibrating, with more than +one pane of glass gone, more than one floor whose planks were loosened +so that they must walk carefully. At any rate, he trolled out his song +as though he were: it was Christmas night, and every one should be +merry. + +There was one person who really was merry, and that was Master Jack, who +sat on the lap of his Northern aunt, laughing and crowing, and demanding +recognition of his important presence from each in turn, by the despotic +power of his eye. In truth, it was this little child who held together +the somewhat strangely assorted group, Miss Sabrina in an ancient white +lace cape, with flowers in her hair; the old judge in a dress-coat and +ruffled shirt, Cicely in a gay little gown of light-blue tint (taken +probably, so Eve thought, from her second trousseau), and Eve herself in +her heavy black crape; she alone had made no concessions to Christmas; +her mourning attire was unlightened by any color, or even by white. + +"'Macgregor's Gathering,'" called the judge. + +Cicely sang it. After finishing the song, she began the lament a second +time, changing the words: + + "We're niggerless, niggerless, niggerless, Gregorlach! + Niggerless, niggerless, nig-ig-ig-gerless!" + +she sang. "For we're not 'landless' at all; we've got miles and miles of +land. It's niggers that are lacking." + +The judge laughed, patting her little dark head as she sat on a stool +beside him. "Let us go out to the quarters, grandpa; they will be +dancing by now. And Jack must go too." + +The judge lifted his great-grandson to his shoulder. Eve had already +noticed that Cicely never took the child from her with her own hands; +she let some one else do it. When the door was opened, distant sounds of +the thrumming of banjoes could be heard. Seeing a possible intention on +Eve's face, Cicely remarked, in her impersonal way, "Are you coming? +They won't enjoy it, they are afraid of you." + +"I don't see why they should be," said Eve, when she and Miss Sabrina +were left alone. + +"You are a stranger, my dear; it is only that. And they are all so fond +of Cicely that it wouldn't be Christmas to them if she did not pay them +a visit; they worship her." + +"And after she has sung that song!" + +"That song?" + +"'Niggerless,'" quoted Eve, indignantly. + +"Well, we are niggerless, or nearly so," said Miss Sabrina, mystified. + +"It's the word, the term." + +"Oh, you mean nigger? It is very natural to us to say so. I suppose you +prefer negroes? If you like, I will try to call them so hereafter. +Negroes; yes, negroes." She pronounced it "nig-roes." "I don't know +whether I have told you," she went on, "how much Cicely dislikes +dreams?" + +"Well she may!" was the thought of Jack Bruce's sister. What she said, +with a short laugh, was, "You had better tell her to be careful about +eating hot breads." + +"Would you have her eat _cold_ bread?" said Miss Sabina, in surprise. "I +didn't mean that her nights were disturbed; I only meant that she +dislikes the _telling_ of dreams--a habit so common at breakfast, you +know. I thought I would just mention it." + +Eve gave another abrupt laugh. "Do you fear I am going to tell her mine? +She would not find them all of sugar." + +"I did not mean yours especially. She has such a curious way of shutting +her teeth when people begin--such pretty little white teeth as they are, +too, dear child! And she doesn't like reading aloud either." + +"That must be a deprivation to you," said Eve, her tone more kindly. + +"It is. I have always been extremely fond of it. Are you familiar with +Milton? His 'Comus'?" + +"'Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting?" quoted Eve, smiling. + +"Yes. + + "'Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting, + Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, + In twisted braids of lilies knitting--'" + +said the Southern lady in her murmurous voice. "You don't know what a +pleasure it has always been to me that I am named Sabrina. The English +originated 'Comus;' I like the English, they are so cultivated." + +"Do you see many of them here?" + +"Not many. I am sorry to say my father does not like them; he thinks +them affected." + +"That is the last thing I should call them." + +"Well, those who come here really do say 'serpents' and 'crocodiles.'" + +"Do you mean as an oath?" said Eve, thinking vaguely of "Donner und +blitzen." + +"As an oath? I have never heard it used in that way," answered Miss +Sabrina, astonished. "I mean that they call the snakes serpents, and the +alligators crocodiles; my father thinks that so very affected." + +Thus the wan-cheeked mistress of Romney endeavored to entertain their +guest. + +That night Eve was sitting by her fire. The mattress of Meadows was no +longer on the floor; the English girl had started on her return journey +the day before, escorted to the pier by all the blacks of the island, +respectful and wondering. The presence of little Jack asleep in his crib +behind a screen, with Dilsey on her pallet beside him, made the large +wind-swept chamber less lonely; still its occupant felt overwhelmed with +gloom. There was a light tap at the door, and Cicely entered; she had +taken off her gay blue frock, and wore a white dressing-gown. "I thought +I'd see if you were up." She went across and looked at Jack for a +moment; then she came back to the fire. "You haven't touched your hair, +nor unbuttoned a button; are you always like that?" + +"Like what?" + +"Trim and taut, like a person going out on horse-back. I should love to +see you with your hair down; I should love to see you run and shriek!" + +"I fear you are not likely to see either." + +Cicely brought her little teeth together with a click. "I've got to get +something over in the north wing; will you come? The wind blows so, it's +splendid!" + +"I will go if you wish," said Eve. + +They went down the corridor and turned into another, both of them +lighted by the streaks of moonlight which came through the half-closed +or broken shutters; the moon was nearly at its full, and very brilliant; +a high wind was careering by outside--it cried at the corner of the +house like a banshee. At the end of the second hall Cicely led the way +through a labyrinth of small dark chambers, now up a step, now down a +step, hither and thither; finally opening a door, she ushered Eve into a +long, high room, lighted on both sides by a double row of windows, one +above the other. Here there were no shutters, and the moonlight poured +in, making the empty space, with its white walls and white floor, as +light as day. "It's the old ballroom," said Cicely. "Wait here; I will +be back in a moment." She was off like a flash, disappearing through a +far door. + +Eve waited, perforce. If she had felt sure that she could find her way +back to her room, she would have gone; but she did not feel sure. As to +leaving Cicely alone in that remote and disused part of the house, at +that late hour of the night, she cared nothing for that; Eve was hard +with people she did not like; she did not realize herself how hard she +was. She went to one of the windows and looked out. + +These lower windows opened on a long veranda. The veranda was only a +foot above the ground; any one, Eve reflected, could cross its uneven +surface and look in; she almost expected to see some one cross, and peer +in at her, his face opposite hers on the other side of the pane. The +moonlight shone on the swaying evergreens; within sight were the waters +of the Sound. Presently she became conscious of a current of wind +blowing through the room, and turned to see what caused it. There had +been no sound of an opening door, or any other sound, but a figure was +approaching, coming down the moonlit space rapidly with a waving motion. +It was covered with something transparent that glittered and shone; its +outlines were vague. It came nearer and nearer, without a sound. Then a +mass of silvery gauze was thrown back, revealing Cicely attired in an +old-fashioned ball dress made of lace interwoven with silver threads and +decked with little silvery stars; there was a silver belt high up under +her arms, and a wreath of the silvery stars shone in her hair. She stood +a moment; then snatching up the gauze which had fallen at her feet, she +held one end of it, and let the other blow out on the strong cold wind +which now filled the room. With this cloudy streamer in her hand, she +began lightly and noiselessly to dance, moving over the moonlit floor, +now with the gauze blowing out in front of her, now waving behind her as +she flew along. Suddenly she let it drop, and, coming to Eve, put her +arms round her waist and forced her forward. Eve resisted. But Cicely's +hands were strong, her hold tenacious; she drew her sister-in-law down +the room in a wild gallopade. In the midst of it, giving a little jump, +she seized Eve's comb. Eve's hair, already loosened, fell down on her +shoulders. Cicely clapped her hands, and began to take little dancing +steps to the tune of "Niggerless, niggerless, nig-ig-ig-gerless!" +chanted in a silvery voice. When she came to "less," she held out her +gleaming skirt, and dipped down in a wild little courtesy. + +Eve picked up her comb and turned back towards the door. + +Cicely danced on ahead, humming her song; they passed through the +labyrinth of dark little rooms, the glimmering dress acting as guide +through the dimness. Cicely went as far as the second hall; here she +stopped. + +"It's the wind, you know," she said, in her usual voice; "when it blows +like this, I always have to do something; sometimes I call out and +shout. But I don't care for it, really; I don't care for anything!" Her +face, as she spoke, looked set and melancholy. She opened a door and +disappeared. + +The next day there was nothing in her expression to indicate that there +had been another dance at Romney the night before, besides the one at +the negro quarters. + +Eve was puzzled. She had thought her so unimaginative and quiet; "a +passionless, practical little creature, cool and unimpulsive, whose +miniature beauty led poor Jack astray, and made him believe that she had +a soul!" This had been her estimate. She was alone with the baby; she +took him to the window and looked at him earnestly. The little man +smiled back at her, playing with the crape of her dress. No, there was +nothing of Cicely here; the blue eyes, golden hair, and frank smile--all +were his father over again. + +"We'll make that Mr. Morrison come back, baby; and then you and I will +go away together," she whispered, stroking his curls. + +"Meh Kiss'm," said Jack. It was as near as he could come to "Merry +Christmas." + +"Before another Christmas I'll get you away from her _forever_!" +murmured the aunt, passionately. + + + + +V. + + +"Out rowing? If you are doing it to entertain me--" said Eve. + +"I should never think of that; there's only one thing here that +entertains you, and that's baby," Cicely answered. She spoke without +insistence; her eyes had their absent-minded expression. + +"Cicely, give him to me," Eve began. She must put her wish into words +some time. "If I could only make you feel how much I long for it! I will +devote my life to him; and it will be a pleasure to me, a charity, +because I am so alone in the world. You are not alone; you have other +ties. Listen, Cicely, I will make any arrangement you like; you shall +always have the first authority, but let me have him to live with me; +let me take him away when I go. I will even acknowledge everything you +have said: my brother _was_ much older than you were; it's natural that +those months with him should seem to you now but an episode--something +that happened at the beginning of your life, but which need not go on to +its close." + +"I _was_ young," said Cicely, musingly. + +"Young to marry--yes." + +"No; I mean young to have everything ended." + +"But that is what I am telling you, it must not be ended; Mr. Morrison +must come back to you." + +"He may," answered Cicely, looking at her companion for a moment with +almost a solemn expression. + +"Then give baby to me now, and let me go away--before he comes." + +Cicely glanced off over the water; they were standing on the low bank +above the Sound. "He could not go north now, in the middle of the +winter," she answered, after a moment. + +"In the early spring, then?" + +"I don't know; perhaps." + +Eve's heart gave a bound. She was going to gain her point. + +Having been brought up by a man, she had learned to do without the +explanations, the details, which are dear to most feminine minds; so all +she said was, "That's agreed, then." She was so happy that a bright +flush rose in her cheeks, and her smile, as she spoke these last few +words, was very sweet; those lips, which Miss Sabrina had thought so +sullen, had other expressions. + +Cicely looked at her. "You may marry too." + +Eve laughed. "There is no danger. To show you, to make you feel as +secure as I do, I will tell you that there have been one or two--friends +of Jack's over there. Apparently I am not made of inflammable material." + +"When you are sullen--perhaps not. But when you are as you are now?" + +"I shall always be sullen to that sort of thing. But we needn't be +troubled; there won't be an army! To begin with, I am twenty-eight; and +to end with, every one will know that I have willed my property to baby; +and that makes an immense difference." + +"How does it make a difference?" + +"In opportunities for marrying, if not also--as I really believe--for +falling in love." + +"I don't see what difference it makes." + +"True, you do not," Eve replied; "you are the most extraordinary people +in the world, you Southerners; I have been here nearly a month, and I am +still constantly struck by it--you never think of money at all. And the +strangest point is, that although you never think of it, you don't in +the least know how to get on without it; you cannot improve anything, +you can only endure." + +"If you will tell Dilsey to get baby ready, I will see to the boat," +answered Cicely. She was never interested in general questions. + +Presently they were afloat. They were in a large row-boat, with Pomp, +Plato, Uncle Abram, and a field hand at the oars; Cicely steered; Eve +and little Jack were the passengers. The home-island was four miles +long, washed by the ocean on one side, the Sound on the other; on the +north, Singleton Island lay very near; but on the south there was a +broad opening, the next island being six miles distant. Here stood +Jupiter Light; this channel was a sea-entrance not only to the line of +Sounds, but also to towns far inland, for here opened on the west a +great river-mouth, through which flowed to the sea a broad, slow stream +coming from the cotton country. They were all good sailors, as they had +need to be for such excursions, the Sounds being often rough. The bright +winter air, too, was sharp; but Eve was strong, and did not mind it, and +the ladies of Romney, like true Southerners, never believed that it was +really cold, cold as it is at the North. The voyages in the row-boat had +been many; they had helped to fill the days, and the sisters-in-law had +had not much else with which to fill them; they had remained as widely +apart as in the beginning, Eve absorbed in her own plans, Cicely in her +own indifference. Little Jack was always of the party, as his presence +made dialogue easy. They had floated many times through the salt marshes +between the rattling reeds, they had landed upon other islands, whose +fields, like those of Romney, had once been fertile, but which now +showed submerged expanses behind the broken dikes, with here and there +an abandoned rice-mill. Sometimes they went inland up the river, rowing +slowly against the current; sometimes, when it was calm, they went out +to sea. To-day they crossed to the other side of the Sound. + +"What a long house Romney is!" said Eve, looking back. She did not add, +"And if you drop anything on the floor at one end it shakes the other." + +"Yes, it's large," Cicely answered. She perceived no fault in it. + +"And the name; you know there's a Romney in Kent?" + +"Is there?" + +"And your post-office, too; when I think of your Warwick, with its one +wooden house, those spectral white sand-hills, the wind, and the tall +light-house, and then when I recall the English Warwick, with its small, +closely built streets, and the great castle looking down into the river +Avon, I wonder if the first-comers here didn't feel lost sometimes. All +the rivers in central England, put together, would be drowned out of +sight in that great yellow stream of yours over there." + +But Cicely's imagination took no flight towards the first-comers, nor +towards the English rivers; and, in another moment, Eve's had come +hastily homeward, for little Jack coughed. "He is taking cold!" she +exclaimed. "Let us go back." + +"It's a splendid day; he will take no cold," Cicely answered. "But we +will go back if you wish." She watched Eve fold a shawl round the little +boy. "You ought to have a child of your own, Eve," she said, with her +odd little laugh. + +"And you ought never to have had one," Eve responded. + +As they drew near the landing, they perceived Miss Sabrina on the bank. +"She has on her bonnet! Where can she be going?" said Cicely. "Oh, I +know; she will ask you to row to Singleton Island, to return Mrs. +Singleton's call." + +"But Jack looks so pale--" + +"You're too funny, Eve! How do you suppose we have taken care of him all +this time--before you came?" Eve's tone was often abrupt, but Cicely's +was never that; the worst you could say of it was that its sweetness was +sometimes mocking. + +When they reached the landing, Miss Sabrina proposed her visit; "that +is, if you care to go, my dear. Dilsey told me that she saw you coming +back, so I put on my bonnet on the chance." + +"Eve is going," remarked Cicely, stepping from the boat; "she wants to +see Rupert, he is such a sweet little boy." + +Dilsey took Jack, and presently Miss Sabrina and her guest were floating +northward. Eve longed to put her triumph into words: "The baby is mine! +In the spring I am to have him." But she refrained. "When does your +spring begin?" she asked. "In February?" + +"In March, rather," answered Miss Sabrina. "Before that it is dangerous +to make changes; I myself have never been one to put on thin dresses +with the pinguiculas." + +"What are pinguiculas?--Birds?" + +"They are flowers," responded Miss Sabrina, mildly. + +"It will be six weeks, then; to-day is the fifteenth." + +"Six weeks to what?" + +"To March; to spring." + +"I don't know that it begins on the very first day," remarked Miss +Sabrina. + +"Mine shall!" thought Eve. + +Romney was near the northern end of the home-island; the voyage, +therefore, was a short one. The chimneys of Singleton House came into +view; but the boat passed on, still going northward. "Isn't that the +house?" Eve asked. + +"Yes, but the landing is farther on; we always go to the landing, and +then walk back through the avenue." + +But when the facade appeared at the end of the neglected road--a walk of +fifteen minutes--there seemed to Eve hardly occasion for so much +ceremony; the old mansion was in a worse condition than Romney; it +sidled and leaned, and one of its wings was a roofless ruin, with the +planking of the floor half tilted up, half fallen into the cellar. Miss +Sabrina betrayed no perception of the effect of this upon a stranger; +she crossed the veranda with her lady-like step, and said to a solemn +little negro boy who was standing in the doorway: "Is Mrs. Singleton at +home this evening, Boliver? Can she see us?--Miss Bruce and Miss +Abercrombie." + +An old negro woman came round the corner of the house, and, cuffing the +boy for standing there, ushered the visitors into a room on the right +of the broad hall. The afternoon had grown colder, but the doors and +windows all stood open; a negro girl, who bore a strong resemblance to +Powlyne, entered, and chased out a chicken who was prowling about over +the matted floor; then she knelt down, with her long thin black legs +stretched out behind, and tried to light a fire on the hearth. But the +wind was evidently in the wrong direction for the requirements of that +chimney; white smoke puffed into the room in clouds. + +"Let us go out on the veranda," suggested Eve, half choked. + +"Oh, but surely--When they have ushered us in here?" responded Miss +Sabrina, remonstratingly, though she too was nearly strangled. "It will +blow away in a few minutes, I assure you." + +Much of it still remained when Mrs. Singleton entered. She paid no more +attention to it than Miss Sabrina had done; she welcomed her guests +warmly, kissing Eve on both cheeks, although she had never seen her +before. "I have been so much interested in hearing that you are from +England, Miss Bruce," she said, taking a seat beside her. "We always +think of England as our old home; I reckon you will see much down here +to remind you of it." + +Eve looked about her--at the puffing smoke, at the wandering chicken, +who still peered through one of the windows. "I am not English," she +said. + +"But you have lived there so long; ever since you were a child; surely +it is the same thing," interposed Miss Sabrina. A faint color rose in +her cheeks for a moment. Eve perceived that she preferred to present an +English rather than a Northern guest. + +"We are all English, if you come to that," said Mrs. Singleton, +confidently. She was small, white-haired, with a sweet face, and a sweet +voice that drawled a little. + +"Eve is much interested in our nig-roes," pursued Miss Sabrina; "you +know to her they are a novelty." + +"Ah dear, yes, our poor, poor people! When I think of them, Miss Bruce, +scattered and astray, with no one to advise them, it makes my heart +bleed. For they must be suffering in so many ways; take the one instance +of the poor women in their confinements; we used to go to them, and be +with them to cheer their time of trial. But now, separated from us, from +our care and oversight, what _can_ they do? If the people who have been +so rash in freeing them had only thought of even that one thing! But I +suppose they did not think of it, and naturally, because the +abolitionist societies, we are told, were composed principally of old +maids." + +Eve laughed. "Why can't they have nurses, as other people do?" + +"You don't mean regular monthly nurses, of course?" + +"Why not?--if they can afford to pay for them. They might club together +to supply them." + +"Oh, I don't think that would be at all appropriate, really. And Eve +does not mean it, I assure you," said Miss Sabrina, coming to the +rescue; "her views are perfectly reasonable, dear Mrs. Singleton; you +would be surprised." + +"You would indeed!" Eve thought. + +But they talked no more of the nig-roes. + +"How is Miss Hillsborough?" Miss Sabrina asked. + +"Right well, I am glad to say. My dear Aunt Peggy, Miss Bruce; and what +she is to me I can hardly tell you! You know I am something of a +talker"--here Mrs. Singleton laughed softly. "And we are so much alone +here now, that, were it not for Aunt Peggy, I should fairly have to talk +to the chickens!" (One at least would be ready, Eve thought.) "Don't you +know that there are ever so many little things each day that we want to +_say_ to somebody?" Mrs. Singleton went on. "Thinking them is not +enough. And these dear people, like Aunt Peggy, who sit still and +listen;--it isn't what they answer that's of consequence; in fact they +seldom say much; it's just the chance they give us of putting our own +thought into words and seeing how it looks. It _does_ make such a +difference." + +"You are fortunate," Eve answered. "And then you have your little boy, +too; Cicely has told me about him--Rupert; she says he is a dear little +fellow." + +"Dear heart!" exclaimed Miss Sabrina, distressed. "Cicely is +sometimes--yes--" + +But Mrs. Singleton laughed merrily. "I will show him to you presently," +she said. + +"Mr. Singleton is so extraordinarily agreeable!" said Miss Sabrina, with +unwonted animation. + +"Oh yes, he is wonderful; and he is a statesman too, a second Patrick +Henry. But then as regards the little things of each _day_, you know, we +don't go to our husbands with _those_." + +"What do you do, then?--I mean with the husbands," Eve asked. + +"I think we admire them," answered Mrs. Singleton, simply. + +Lucasta, the negro girl, now appeared with a tray. "Pray take some +Madeira," said their hostess, filling the tiny glasses. "And plum-cake." + +Eve declined. But Miss Sabrina accepted both refreshments, and Mrs. +Singleton bore her company. The wine was unspeakably bad, it would have +been difficult to say what had entered into its composition; but Madeira +had formed part of the old-time hospitality of the house, and something +that was sold under that name (at a small country store on the mainland +opposite) was still kept in the cut-glass decanter, to be served upon +occasion. + +Presently a very tall, very portly, and very handsome old man (he well +merited three verys) came in, leaning on a cane. "Miss Bruce--little +Rupert; our dear little boy," said Mrs. Singleton, introducing him. She +had intended to laugh, but she forgot it; she gazed at him admiringly. + +The master of the house put aside his cane, and looked about for a +chair. As he stood there, helpless for an instant, he seemed gigantic. + +Eve laughed. + +Miss Sabrina murmured, "Pleasantry, dear Mr. Singleton;--our foolish +pleasantry." + +After the old gentleman had found his chair and seated himself, and had +drawn a breath or two, he gave a broad slow smile. "Nanny, are you in +the habit of introducing me to your young lady friends as your dear +little Rupert?--your little Rupe?" + +"Rupe? Never!" answered Mrs. Singleton, indignantly. + +"Only our foolish pleasantry," sighed Miss Sabrina, apologetically. + +"It was Cicely," Eve explained. + +"If it was Cicely, it was perfect," the lame colossus answered, +gallantly. "Cicely is heavenly. Upon my word, she is the most engaging +young person I have ever seen in my life." + +He then ate some plum-cake, and paid Eve compliments even more handsome +than these. + +After a while he imparted the news; he had been down to the landing to +meet the afternoon steamer, which brought tidings from the outside +world. "Melton is dead," he said. "You know whom I mean? Melton, the +great stockbroker; one of the richest men living, I suppose." + +"Oh! where is his soul _now_?" said Mrs. Singleton. Her emotion was +real, her sweet face grew pallid. + +"Why, I have never heard that he was a bad man, especially," remarked +Eve, surprised. + +"He was sure to be--making all that money; it could not be otherwise. +Oh, what is his agony at this very moment!" + +But Rupert did not sympathize with this mournfulness; when three ladies +were present, conversation should be light, poetical. "Miss Bruce," he +said, turning towards Eve--he was so broad that that in itself made a +landscape--"have you ever noticed the appropriateness of 'County Guy' to +this neighborhood of ours?" + +"No," Eve answered. But the words brought her father to her mind with a +rush: how often, when she was a child, had he beguiled a dull walk with +a chant, half song, half declamation: + + "Oh, County Guy, the hour is nigh, + The sun has left the lea." + +She looked at her host, but she did not hear him; a mist gathered in her +eyes. + + "'Oh, County Guy, the hour is nigh,'" + +began the colossus, placing his plum-cake on his knee provisionally. + + "'The sun has left the lea; + The orange flower perfumes the bower, + The breeze is on the sea. + The lark his lay who trilled all day + Sits hushed his partner nigh. + Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour; + But where is County Guy?' + +"The orange flower perfumes the bower; here we have the orange flower +and the lea, the bower and the sea; and it's very rarely that you find +all four together. 'The lark his lay who trilled all day'--what music it +is! There's no one like Scott." + +His lameness prevented him from accompanying his guests on their walk +back to the boat; he stood in the doorway leaning on his cane and waving +a courtly farewell, while the chicken, with slowly considering steps, +crossed the veranda and entered the drawing-room again. + +"Miss Sabrina, please tell me what you know of Ferdinand Morrison," Eve +began, as soon as a turn in the road hid the old house from their view. + +Miss Sabrina had expected to talk about the Singletons. "Oh, Mr. +Morrison? we did not see him ourselves, you know." + +"But you must have heard." + +"Certainly, we heard. The Singletons are delightful people, are they +not? So cultivated! Their house has always been one of the most +agreeable on the Sound." + +"I dare say. But about Ferdinand Morrison?" Eve went on. For it was not +often that she had so good an opportunity; at Romney, if there was no +one else present, there were always the servants, who came in and out +like members of the family. "Cicely met him first in Savannah, didn't +she?" + +"Yes," answered Miss Sabrina (but giving up the Singletons with regret); +"she went to pay a visit to our cousin Emmeline; and there she met him. +From the very beginning he appeared to be much in love with her, Cousin +Emmeline wrote. And Cicely too--so we heard--appeared to care for him +from the first day. At least Cousin Emmeline received that impression; +Cicely, of course, did not take her into her confidence." + +"Why of course?" + +"At that early stage? But don't you think that those first sweet +uncertainties are always private? Mr. Morrison used to come every day, +and take her out for a drive; I have been in Savannah myself, and I have +often thought that probably they went to Bonaventure--_so_ delightful! +At last, one evening, Cicely told Cousin Emmeline that she was engaged. +And the next day she wrote to us. She did not come home; they were +married there at Emmeline's." + +"And none of you went to the wedding?" + +"There were only father and I to go; we have not always been able to do +as we wished," replied Miss Sabrina, gently. + +"Mr. Morrison had money, I suppose?" + +"I think not; we have never been told so." + +"Didn't you ask?" + +"That was for Cicely, wasn't it? I dare say she knows. We could only +hope, father and I, that she would be happy; but I fear that she has not +been, ah no." And Miss Sabrina sighed. + +"But we must not give it up so, she is still so young. Why don't you +write to Mr. Morrison yourself, and tell him, command him, to come +back?" suggested Eve, boldly. + +"But--but I don't know where he is," answered Miss Sabrina, bewildered +by this sudden attack. + +"You said South America." + +"But I couldn't write, 'Ferdinand Morrison, Esquire, South America.'" + +"Some one must know. His relatives." + +"Yes, there is his brother, and a most devoted brother, we are told," +responded Miss Sabrina, speaking more fluently now that she had launched +upon family affection. "Yes, indeed--from all we have heard of Paul +Tennant, we are inclined to think him a most excellent young man. He may +not have Ferdinand's beauty (we are told that Ferdinand is remarkably +handsome); and it is probable, too, that he has not Ferdinand's +cultivation, for he is a business man, and has always lived at the +North.--I beg your pardon, my dear, I am sure," said the Southern lady, +interrupting herself in confusion. + +"It doesn't matter; the North won't die of it. If you know where this +brother is--But why has he a different name?" + +"The mother, Mrs. Tennant, who was a widow with this one boy, Paul, +married one of the Maryland Morrisons--I reckon you know the family. +Ferdinand is the child of this second marriage. His father and mother +are dead; his only near relative is this half-brother, Paul." + +"Write to Paul, then, and find out where Ferdinand is." + +"This is a plot, isn't it?" answered Miss Sabrina, smiling. "But I like +it; it's so sweet of you to plan for our poor Cicely's happiness." + +"You needn't thank me! Then you will write?" + +"But I don't know where Mr. Tennant is either.--I dare say Cicely +knows." + +"But if you ask her, she will suspect something. And if I ask her, it +will be worse still! Doesn't anybody in the world know where this Paul +Tennant is?" said Eve, irritably. + +"I think we heard that it was some place where it is very cold--I +remember that. It might have been Canada," suggested Sabrina, +reflectively. + +"Canada and South America--what a family!" said Eve, in despair. + +The wind had risen, the homeward voyage was rough. They reached Romney +to find little Jack ill; before morning he was struggling with an attack +of croup. + + + + +VI. + + +"Cicely, what did you say to those people, that they stared at us so +when they passed?" + +"Oh, they asked me if you were the man who went round with the +panorama--to explain it, you know. So I told them that you were the +celebrated Jessamine family--you and Miss Leontine; and that you were +going to give a concert in Gary Hundred to-night; I advised them to go." + +"Bless my soul!--the celebrated Jessamine family? What possessed you?" + +"Well, they saw the wagon, and they thought it looked like a panorama. +They seemed to want something, so I told them that." + +Eve broke into a laugh. + +But the judge put on his spectacles, and walked round the wagon with +indignant step. "It is an infernal color," he declared, angrily. + +"Our good Dickson had that paint on hand--he told me about it," +explained Miss Leontine. "It was left over"--here she paused. "I don't +know what you will think, but I believe it really was left over after a +circus--or was it a menagerie? At any rate, the last thing that was +exhibited here before the war." + +The vehicle in question was a long-bodied, two seated wagon, with a +square box behind, which opened at the back like the box of a carrier's +cart; its hue was the liveliest pea green. + +"Dickson had no business to give it to us; it was a damned +impertinence!" said the judge, with a snort. + +"Don't spoil your voice, when you've got to sing to-night, grandpa," +remarked Cicely. "And you will have to lead out Miss Leontine--who will +sing 'Waiting.'" + +The judge glanced at Miss Leontine. He could not repress a grin. + +But tall Miss Leontine remained amiable, she had never heard of +"Waiting." In any case she seldom penetrated jokes; they seemed to her +insufficiently explained; often, indeed, abstruse. She was fifty-two, +and very maidenly; her bearing, her voice, her expression, were all +timidly virginal, as were also the tints of her attire, pale blues and +lavenders, and faint green. Her face bore a strong resemblance to the +face of a camel; give a camel a pink-and-white complexion, blue eyes, +and light-brown hair coming down in flat bands on each side of its long +face, and you have Miss Leontine. She was extraordinarily tall--she +attained a stature of nearly six feet. Her step, as if conscious of +this, was apologetic; her long narrow back leaned forward as though she +were trying to reduce her height in front as she came towards one. She +wore no crinoline; her head was decked with a large gypsy hat, from +which floated a blue tissue veil. + +The little party of four--Eve, Cicely, the judge, and Miss +Leontine--with Master Jack, had driven from Gary Hundred to Bellington; +their hostess, Cousin Sarah Cray, had an old horse, and this wagon had +been borrowed from Dickson, the village grainer (who had so mistakenly +saved the circus paint); it would be a pleasant excursion in itself, and +it would be good for Jack--which last was the principal point with them +all. + +For the much longer excursion from Abercrombie Island to this inland +South Carolina village had been taken on Jack's account; the attack of +croup had left him with a harassing cough, a baby's little cough, which +is so distressing to the ears of those who love him. Eve had walked +about, day and night, carrying him in her arms, his languid head on her +shoulder; she could not bear to see how large his eyes looked in his +little white face; she did not sleep; she could scarcely speak. + +"We might go to Cousin Sarah Cray's for a while, away from the coast," +Cicely suggested. She was always present when Eve walked restlessly to +and fro; but she did not interfere, she let Eve have the child. + +Eve had no idea who or where was Cousin Sarah Cray, but she agreed to +anything that would take Jack away from the coast. It was very cold now +at Romney; the Sound was dark and rough all the time, the sea boomed, +the winds were bitter. They had therefore journeyed inland, Jack and +Eve, Cicely and her grandfather, leaving Miss Sabrina to guard the +island-home alone. + +When they reached Gary Hundred and the softer air, Jack began to revive; +Eve too revived, she came back to daily life again. One of the first +things she said was: "I ought not to be staying here, Cicely; you must +let me go to the hotel; your cousin is not my cousin." + +"She's Jack's." + +"Do you mean by that that Jack must stay, and if he does, I shall? But +it isn't decent; here we have all descended upon her at a moment's +notice, and filled up her house, and tramped to and fro. She doesn't +appear to be rich." + +"We are all as poor as crows, but we always go and stay with each other +just the same. As for Cousin Sarah Cray, she loves it. Of course we take +her as we find her." + +"We do indeed!" was Eve's thought. "It is all very well for you," she +went on, aloud. "But I am a stranger." + +"Cousin Sarah Cray doesn't think so; she thinks you very near--a sister +of her cousin." + +"If you count in that way, what families you must have! But why +shouldn't we all go to the hotel, and take her with us? There's an +idea." + +"For one reason, there's no hotel to go to," responded Cicely, laughing. + +They continued, therefore, to stay with Cousin Sarah Cray; they had been +there ten days, and Jack was so much better that Eve gladly accepted her +obligations, for the present. She accepted, too, the makeshifts of the +rambling housekeeping. But if the housekeeping was of a wandering order, +the welcome did not wander--it remained fixed; there was something +beautiful in the boundless affection and hospitality of poverty-stricken +Cousin Sarah Cray. + +Bellington was a ruin. In the old days it had been the custom of the +people of Gary Hundred, and the neighboring plantations, to drive +thither now and then to spend an afternoon; the terraces and fish-ponds +were still to be seen, together with the remains of the Dutch +flower-garden, and the great underground kitchens of the house, which +had been built of bricks imported from Holland a hundred and twenty +years before. In the corner of one of the fields bordering the river +were the earthworks of a Revolutionary fort; in a jungle a quarter of a +mile distant there was a deserted church, with high pews, mouldering +funeral hatchments, and even the insignia of George the Third in faded +gilt over the organ-loft. Bellington House had been destroyed by fire, +accidentally, in 1790. Now, when there were in the same neighborhood +other houses which had been destroyed by fire, not accidentally, there +was less interest in the older ruin. But it still served as an excuse +for a drive, and drives were excellent for the young autocrat of the +party, to whom all, including Miss Leontine, were shamelessly devoted. + +The judge did his duty as guide; he had visited Bellington more times +than he could count, but he again led the way (with appropriate +discourse) from the fish-ponds to the fort, and from the fort to the +church, Miss Leontine, in her floating veil, ambling beside him. + +When the sun began to decline they returned to their pea-green wagon. +The judge walked round it afresh. Then he turned away, put his head over +a bush, and muttered on the other side of it. + +"What is he saying?" Eve asked. + +"I am afraid 'cuss words,' as the darkies call them," answered Cicely, +composedly. "He is without doubt a very desperate old man." + +Miss Leontine looked distressed, she made a pretext of gathering some +leaves from a bush at a little distance; as she walked away, her skirt +caught itself behind at each step upon the tops of her prunella boots, +which were of the pattern called "Congress," with their white straps +visible. + +"She is miserable because I called him that," said Cicely; "she thinks +him perfect. Grandpa, I have just called you a desperate old man." + +But the judge had resumed his grand manner; he assisted the ladies in +climbing to their high seats, and then, mounting to his own place, he +guided the horse down the uneven avenue and into the broad road again. +The cotton plantations of this neighborhood had suffered almost as much +as the rice fields of Romney: they had been flooded so often that much +of the land was now worthless, disintegrated and overgrown with +lespedeza. They crossed the river (which had done the damage) on--or +rather in--a long shaking wooden bridge, covered and nearly dark, and +guarding in its dusky recesses a strong odor of the stable. Beyond it +the judge had an inspiration: he would go across the fields by one of +the old cotton-tracks, thus shortening the distance by more than two +miles. + +"Because you're ashamed of + + 'Our pea-green wagon, our wagon of green, + Lillibulero, bullen-a-la,'" + +chanted Cicely on the back seat. + +"Cecilia!" said the judge, with dignity. + +Eve sat beside him; courteously he entertained her. "Have you ever +reflected, Miss Bruce, upon the very uninteresting condition of the +world at present? Everything is known. Where can a gentleman travel now, +with the element of the unexpected as a companion? There are positively +no lands left unvulgarized save the neighborhood of the Poles." + +"Central Africa," Eve suggested. + +"Africa? I think I said for gentlemen." + +"You turbulent old despot, curb yourself," said Cicely, _sotto voce_. + +"In the old days, Miss Bruce," the judge went on, "we had Arabia, we had +Thibet, we had Cham-Tartary; we could arrive on camels at Erzerum. Hey! +what are you about there, boy? Turn out!" + +"Turn out yourself." + +The track had passed down into a winding hollow between sloping banks +about six feet high; on the other side of a curve they had come suddenly +upon an empty hay-cart which was approaching from the opposite +direction, drawn by two mules; the driver, an athletic young negro with +an insolent face, was walking beside his team. His broad cart filled +every inch of the track; it was impossible to pass it without climbing +the bank. The judge, with his heavy wagon and one horse, could not do +this; but it would have been easy for the mules to take their light cart +up the slope, and thus leave room for the wagon. + +The old planter could not believe that he had heard aright. "Turn out, +boy!" he repeated, with the imperious manner which only a lifetime of +absolute authority can give. + +The negro brought his mules up until their noses touched the nose of the +horse; then, putting his hands in his pockets, he planted himself, and +called out, "W'at yer gwine ter do 'bout it?" + +In an instant the judge was on his feet, whip in hand. But Cicely +touched him. "You are not going to fight with him, grandpa?" she said, +in a low tone. "For he will fight; he isn't in the least afraid of you." + +The judge had now reached the ground. In his rage he was white, with his +eyes blazing. Eve, greatly alarmed, clasped little Jack closer. + +Cicely jumped lightly down. "Grandpa," she said, under her breath, "he +is a great deal stronger than you are, and after he has struck you down +we shall be here alone with him--think of that. We will all get out, and +then you can lead the horse up the bank, and go by him. Dear grandpa, it +is the only way; this isn't the island, this is South Carolina." + +Eve, seeing the speechless passion of the old man, had not believed that +Cicely would prevail; she had closed her eyes with a shuddering, +horrible vision of the forward rush, the wrested whip, and the +silver-haired head in the dust. But, with a mighty effort, trembling +like a leaf with his repressed rage, the judge put up his hand to help +her in her descent. She accepted his aid hurriedly, giving Jack to +Cicely; Miss Leontine had climbed down alone, the tears dropping on her +cheeks behind her veil. The judge then led the horse up the bank and +past the wagon, the negro keeping his position beside his mules; the +ladies followed the wagon, and mounted to their places again when it had +reached the track, Cicely taking the seat by the side of her +grandfather. Then they drove off, followed by the negro's jeering +laughter. + +The old planter remained perfectly silent. Eve believed that, after he +had deposited them safely at home, he would go back in search of that +negro without fail. She and Cicely tried to keep up a conversation; Miss +Leontine joined them whenever she was able, but the tears constantly +succeeded each other on her long face, and she was as constantly putting +her handkerchief to her eyes in order to repress them, the gesture much +involved with her blue veil. On the borders of the village they passed +the little railway station. By the side of the station-house there was a +new shop, which had a broad show-window filled with wooden wash-tubs. + +"This is the shop of Thomas Scotts, the tar-and-turpentine man who is in +love with Matilda Debbs," said Cicely. "How is that coming on now, Miss +Leontine?" + +Miss Leontine took down her handkerchief. "The family do not consent." + +"But there's nothing against the man, is there?" + +Miss Leontine took down the handkerchief again--she had already +replaced it. "As regards his character, n-nothing. But he is a +manufacturer of tubs. It appears that it is the business of the family; +his father also manufactures them. In Connecticut." + +"If Thomas Scotts should make a beautiful new tub for each of the Misses +Debbs, it wouldn't be a bad idea; there are twelve or fourteen of them, +aren't there?" + +"Ner-nine," replied the afflicted maiden lady, with almost a convulsion +of grief. "But two of them are yer-young yet." + +"And seven are not. Now seven new tubs." + +"Cecilia, let us have no more of this," said the judge. + +It was the first time he had spoken; Cicely put her hand behind her and +furtively pinched Eve's knee in token of triumph. + +They came into the main street of Gary Hundred. It was a broad avenue, +wandering vaguely onward amid four rows of trees; there was no pavement; +the roadway was deeply covered with yellow sand; the spacious sidewalks +which bordered it were equally in a state of nature. The houses, at some +distance back from the street, were surrounded by large straggling +gardens. Farther down were the shops, each with its row of +hitching-posts across the front. + +They left Miss Leontine at her own door, and went on towards the +residence of Cousin Sarah Cray. + +"Here comes Miss Polly's bread-cart, on the way back from Mellons," said +Cicely. "Grandpa, wouldn't it be a good idea to buy some little cakes?" + +The judge stopped the horse; Cicely beckoned to the old negro who was +wheeling the covered hand-cart along the sandy road. "Uncle Dan, have +you any cakes left?" + +Uncle Dan touched his hat, and opened the lid of the cart; there, +reposing on snowy napkins, were biscuit and bread, and little cakes of +inviting aspect. While Cicely made her selection, Eve bent down and took +one of the circulars which were lying, neatly piled, in a corner. It +announced, not in print, but in delicate hand-writing, that at the +private bakery, number ten Queen Street, Gary Hundred, fresh bread, +biscuits, and rolls could be obtained daily; muffins, crumpets, and +plum-cake to order. The circular was signed "Mary Clementina Diana +Wingfield." + +"They have names enough, those sisters," Eve commented. "Miss Leontine's +is Clotilda Leontine Elizabeth; I saw it in her prayer-book." + +Cousin Sarah Cray's residence was a large white house, with verandas +encircling it both up stairs and down; the palings of the fence were +half gone, the whole place looked pillaged and open. The judge drove up +to the door and helped Cicely to descend; and then Eve, who had little +Jack, fast asleep, in her arms. Cicely motioned to Eve to go into the +house; she herself followed her grandfather as he led the horse round to +the stables. Eve went in, carrying Jack and the cakes. Cousin Sarah +Cray, hurrying down the stairs to meet her, took the child +affectionately. "Dear little fellow, he begins to look right rosy." She +was delighted with the cakes. "They will help out the tea be-u-tifully; +we've only got waffles." + +Instead of going to her room, Eve took a seat at the window; she was +anxious about the judge. + +"Miss Polly's cakes are always so light," pursued Cousin Sarah Cray, +looking at them; "she never makes a mistake, there's never the tinetiest +streak of heaviness in _her_ little pounds! And her breads are elegant, +too; when one sees her beautiful hands, one wonders how she can do all +the kneading." + +"Does she do it herself?" + +"Every single bit; their old Susannah only heats the oven. It was a +courageous idea, Miss Bruce, from the beginning; you know they are among +our best people, and, after the war, they found themselves left with +nothing in the world but their house. They could have kept school in it, +of course, for they are accomplished beyond everything; Miss Leontine +paints sweetly--she was educated in France. But there was no one to come +to the school; the girls, of course, could not afford to go away." + +"You mean pupils?--to leave their homes and come here?" + +"No, I mean the girls, Polly and Leontine; they could not open a school +anywhere else--in Charleston, for instance; they had not money enough." + +"I beg your pardon--it was only that I did not recognize them as 'the +girls.'" + +"Well, I suppose they really are not quite girls any longer," responded +Cousin Sarah Cray, thoughtfully. "Polly is forty-four and Leontine +fifty-two; but I reckon they will always be 'the girls' to us, even if +they're eighty," she added, laughing. "Well, Polly had this idea. And +she has been so successful--you can't think! Her bread-cart goes over to +Mellons every day of your life, as regularly as the clock. And they buy +a great deal." + +"It's the camp, isn't it?--Camp Mellons?" + +"No; it has always been Mellons, Mellons Post-office. The camp is near +there, and it has some Yankee name or other, I believe; but of course +you know, my dear, that _we_ never go there." + +"You only sell them bread. I am glad, at least, that they buy Miss +Polly's. And does Miss Leontine help?" + +"I fancy not. Dear Miss Leontine is not as practical as Miss Polly; she +has a soft poetical nature, and she makes beautiful afghans. But the +judge prefers Miss Polly." + +"Does he really admire her?" said Eve, with a sudden inspiration. + +"Beyond everything," answered Cousin Sarah Cray, clasping her plump +hands. + +"Then will you please go out and tell him that she is coming here to +tea, that she will be here immediately?" + +"Mercy! But she won't." + +"Yes, she will; I will go and ask her. Do please make haste, Mrs. Cray; +we are so afraid, Cicely and I, that he will try to whip a negro." + +"Mercy!" said Cousin Sarah Cray again, this time in alarm; stout as she +was, she ran swiftly through the hall and across the veranda, her cap +strings flying, and disappeared on the way to the stables. + +Eve carried little Jack up-stairs, and gave him to Deely, the +house-maid; then, retracing her steps, she went out through the +side-gate, and up the street to the home of the Misses Wingfield. The +door stood open, Miss Polly was in the hall. She was a handsome woman, +vigorous, erect, with clear blue eyes, and thick sandy hair closely +braided round her well-shaped head. Eve explained her errand. "But +perhaps Miss Leontine told you?" she added. + +"No, Lonny told me nothing; she went straight to her room. I noticed +that she had been crying; but she is so sweet that she cries rather +easily. Whip, indeed! _I'd_ rather shoot." + +"We must keep the _judge_ from being whipped," Eve answered. + +"Yes, I suppose so; he is an old man, though he doesn't look it. I will +go with you, of course. Or rather I will follow you in a few moments." + +The post-office of Gary Hundred was opposite the Wingfield house; as Eve +crossed the broad street on her way back, the postmaster appeared at his +door, and beckoned to her mysteriously. He was a small elderly negro, +with a dignified manner; he wore blue goggles; Eve knew him slightly, +she had paid several visits to the office, and had been treated with +deferential attention. When she reached the sidewalk, therefore, she +paused. + +"Would yer min' droppin' in fer one brief momen', miss? 'Portant +marter." + +Eve stepped over the low sill of the small building--it was hardly more +than a shed, though smartly whitewashed, and adorned with bright green +blinds--and the postmaster immediately closed the door. He then +cautiously took from his desk a letter. + +"Dere's sump'n' rudder quare 'bout dishyer letter, miss," he said, +glancing towards the window to see that no one was looking in. "Carn't +be too pertikler w'en it's guv'ment business; en so we 'lowed to ax de +favior ef you'd sorter glimpse yer eye ober it fer us." + +"Read a letter?" said Eve. "Whose letter?" + +"Not de letter, but him _outside_, miss. Whoms is it? Dat's de p'int. En +I wouldn't have you s'pose we 'ain't guv it our bes' cornsideration. We +knows de looks ob mos' ob 'em w'at comes yere; but dishyer one's +diffunt. Fuddermo', de stamp's diffunt too." + +The postmaster's wife, a little yellow woman, was looking anxiously at +them from the small window in the partition of the real post-office, a +space six feet by three. + +Eve took the letter. "It's an English stamp. And the name is plainly +written, 'Henry Barker, Esquire; Gary Hundred.'" + +"No sech pusson yere. Dat's w'at I tol' Mister Cotesworth," said the +yellow woman, triumphantly. + +"Do you mean to tell me that you cannot read?" said Eve, surveying +"Mister Cotesworth," with astonishment. + +The government official had, for the moment, an abashed look. "We +'lowed," he began, "dat as you's fum de Norf--" + +But his wife interrupted him. "He reads better'n mos', miss, Mister +Cotesworth does. But his eyes done got so bad lately--dat's w'at. Take +de letter, Mister Cotesworth, and doan' trouble de lady no mo'. Fine +wedder, miss." She came round and opened the door officiously; "seem lak +we 'ain't nebber see finer." + +Miss Polly arrived at Cousin Sarah Cray's; she walked with apparent +carelessness round towards the stables, where the judge was +superintending the rubbing down and the feeding of the horse. A saddle +had been brought out, and was hanging on the fence; Cousin Sarah hovered +anxiously near. + +"Grandpa is going out for a ride," explained Cicely. "But I told him +that the poor horse must be fed first, in common charity; he has been +so far already--to Bellington and back." + +"Oh, but the judge is not going, now that I have come," said Miss Polly; +"he wouldn't be so uncivil." She went up to him; smiling winningly, she +put out her beautiful hand. + +The judge was always gallant; he took the fair hand, and, bending his +head, deposited upon it a salute. + +Miss Polly smiled still more graciously. "And is a stable-yard a place +for such courtesies, judge?" she said, in her rich voice, with her +luscious, indolent, Southern pronunciation. "Oh, surely not--surely not. +Let us go to Cousin Sarah Cray's parlor; I have something to tell you; +in fact, I came especially to see you." Looking very handsome and very +straight, she took his arm with a caressing touch. + +The judge admired Miss Polly deeply. + +And Miss Polly kept a firm hold upon his arm. + +The judge yielded. + + + + +VII. + + +"Sea-beaches," said Eve,--"the minds of such people; you can trace the +line of their last high tide, that is, the year when they stopped +reading. Along the judge's line, one finds, for instance, Rogers; he +really has no idea that there have been any new poets since then." + +"Dear me! We have always thought Horatio remarkably literary," protested +Cousin Sarah Cray. "That's his step now, I think." + +The judge came in, little Jack on his shoulder. "I believe he has +dropped some--some portions of his clothing on the stairs," he said, +helplessly. "It's astonishing--the facility he has." + +"And he has pulled off his shoes," added Eve, taking the little +reprobate and kissing him. "Naughty Jack. Tacks!" + +"Esss, tacks!" repeated Jack, in high glee. "Dey gets in Jack's foots." +That was all he cared for her warning legend. + +The judge sat down and wiped his forehead. "I have received a shock," he +said. + +"Pity's sake!--what?" asked Cousin Sarah Cray, in alarm. Poor Cousin +Sarah dealt in interjections. But it might be added that she had lived +through times that were exclamatory. + +"Our old friend, Roland Pettigru, is dead, Sarah; the news comes to us +in this--this Sheet, which, I am told, is published here." He drew a +small newspaper from his pocket. "With your permission, ladies, I will +read to you the opening sentence of an obituary notice which this--this +Sheet--has prepared for the occasion." He put on his spectacles, and, +holding the paper off at a distance, read aloud, with slow, indignant +enunciation, as follows: "'The Great Reaper has descended amongst us. +And this time he has carried back with him sadly brilliant sheaves; for +his arrows have been shot at a shining mark' (arrows for a reaper!" +commented the judge, surveying his audience squintingly, over his +glasses), "'and the aim has been only too true. Gaunt Sorrow stalks +abroad, we mourn with Pettigru Hill; we say--and we repeat--that the +death of Roland Pettigru has left a vortex among us.' Yes, vortex, +ladies;--the death of a quiet, cultivated gentleman a vortex!" + +At this moment Deely, the house-maid, appeared at the door; giving her +calico skirt a twist by way of "manners," she announced, "Miss Wungfy." + +Miss Leontine entered, carrying five books standing in a row upon her +left arm as though it had been a shelf. She shook hands with Cousin +Sarah Cray and Eve; then she went through the same ceremony with the +judge, but in a confused, downcast manner, and seated herself on a +slippery ottoman as near as possible to the door. + +"I hope you liked the books? Pray let me take them," said Eve, for Miss +Leontine was still balancing them against her breast. + +"Literature?" remarked the judge, who also seemed embarrassed. He took +up one of the volumes and opened it. "Ah, a novel." + +"Yes, but one that will not hurt you," Eve answered. "For Miss Leontine +prefers those novels where the hero and heroine are married to begin +with, and then fall in love with each other afterwards; everything on +earth may happen to them during this process--poisonings and murders and +shootings; she does not mind these in the least, for it's sure in any +case to be _moral_, don't you see, because they were married in the +beginning. And marriage makes everything perfectly safe; doesn't it, +Miss Leontine?" + +"I am sure I don't know," answered Miss Leontine, still a prey to +nervousness; "but--but I have always _supposed_ so. Yes. We read them +aloud," she added, turning for relief to Cousin Sarah Cray; "that is, I +read to Polly--in the evenings." + +"These modern novels seem to me poor productions," commented the judge, +turning over the pages of the volume he had taken. + +"Naturally," responded Eve. + +"May I ask why 'naturally'?" + +"Oh, men who read their Montaigne year after year without change, and +who quote Charles Lamb, never care for novels, unless, indeed, it may be +'Tom Jones.' Montaigne and Lamb, Latin quotations that are not hard, a +glass of good wine with his dinner, and a convexity of person--these +mark your non-appreciator of novels, from Warwickshire to Gary Hundred." + +"Upon my word, young lady--" began the judge, laughing. + +But Miss Leontine, by her rising, interrupted him. "I think I must go +now. Yes. Thank you." + +"But you have only just come," said Cousin Sarah Cray. + +"I stopped to leave the books. Yes; really; that was all. Thanks, you +are very kind. Yes; thank you." She fumbled ineffectually for the handle +of the door, and, when it was opened for her, with an embarrassed bow +she passed out, her long back bent forward, her step hurried. + +"I can't imagine what is the matter with her," said Cousin Sarah Cray, +returning. + +"I am afraid, Sarah, that I can inform you," answered the judge gravely, +putting down the volume. "I met her in her own garden about an hour ago, +and we fell into conversation; I don't know what possessed me, but in +relating some anecdote of a jocular nature which happened to be in my +mind at the time, by way of finish--I can't imagine what I was thinking +of--but I up and chucked her under the chin." + +"Chucked Miss Leontine!" exclaimed Cousin Sarah Cray, aghast, while Eve +gave way to irrepressible mirth. "Was she--was she deeply offended?" + +"She was simply paralyzed with astonishment. I venture to say"--here the +judge sent an eye-beam towards the laughing Eve--"I venture to say that +Miss Leontine has never been chucked under the chin in all her life +before." + +"Certainly not," answered Cousin Sarah Cray; "she is far too dignified." +Then, with a desire to be strictly truthful, she added, "Perhaps when +she was a baby?" + +But even this seemed doubtful. + +Not long after this the Misses Wingfield (it was really Miss Polly) gave +a party. + +"Must we go?" said Eve. + +"Why, it will be perfectly delightful!" answered Cousin Sarah Cray, +looking at her in astonishment. "Every one will be there. Let me see: +there will be ourselves, four; and Miss Polly and Miss Leontine, six; +then the Debbses, thirteen--fourteen if Mrs. Debbs comes; the Rev. Mr. +Bushey and his wife, sixteen. And perhaps there will be some one else," +she added, hopefully; "perhaps somebody has some one staying with them." + +"Thomas Scotts, the tub man, will not be invited," remarked Cicely. "He +will walk by on the outside. And look in." + +"There's nothing I admire more than the way you pronounce that name +Debbs," observed Eve. "It's plain Debbs; yet you call it Dessss--holding +on to all the s's, and hardly sounding the b at all--so that you almost +make it rhyme with noblesse." + +"That's because we like 'em, I reckon," responded Cousin Sarah Cray. +"They certainly are the _sweetest_ family!" + +"There's a faint trace of an original theme in Matilda. The others are +all variations," said the caustic Miss Bruce. + +They went to the party. + +"Theme and variations all here," said Cicely, as they passed the open +door of the parlor on their way up-stairs to lay aside their wraps; +"they haven't spared us a trill." + +"Well, you won't be spared either," said Cousin Sarah Cray. "_You'll_ +have to sing." + +She proved a true prophet; Cicely was called upon to add what she could +to the entertainments of the evening. Her voice was slender and clear; +to-night it pleased her to sing straight on, so rapidly that she made +mince-meat of the words of her song, the delicate little notes almost +seeming to come from a flute, or from a mechanical music-bird screwed to +a chandelier. Later, however, Miss Matilda Debbs supplied the missing +expression when she gave them: + + "Slee--ping, I _dreamed_, love, + Dreamed, love, of thee; + O'er--ther--bright _waves_, love, + Float--ing were we." + +Cicely seemed possessed by one of her wild moods. "I've been to the +window; the tar-and-turpentine man is looking over the gate," she said, +in a low voice, to Eve. "I'm going out to say to him, 'Scotts, wha hae! +Send in a tub.'" + +Presently she came by Eve's chair again. "Have you seen the geranium in +Miss Leontine's hair? Let us get grandpa out on the veranda with her, +alone; she has been madly in love with him ever since he chucked her +under the chin. What's more, grandpa knows it, too, and he's awfully +frightened; he always goes through the back streets now, like a thief." + +There was a peal at the door-bell. "Tar-and-turpentine man coming in," +murmured Cicely. + +Susannah appeared with a letter. "Fer Mis' Morrison," she said. + +There was a general laugh. For "Mister Cotesworth," not sure that Eve +would keep his secret, and alarmed for the safety of his official +position, had taken to delivering his letters in person; clad in his +best black coat, with a silk hat, the blue goggles, and a tasselled +cane, he not only delivered them with his own hands, but he declaimed +the addresses in a loud tone at the door. Not finding Cicely at home, he +had followed her hither. "Fer Mis' Fer'nen Morrison. A _ferwerded_ +letter," he said to Susannah in the hall, at the top of his voice. + +The judge had gone to the dining-room with Miss Polly, to see her little +dog, which was ailing. Cicely put the letter in her pocket. + +After a while she said to Eve, "I never have any letters, hardly." + +"But you must have," Eve answered. + +"No; almost never. I am going up-stairs for a moment, Eve. Don't come +with me." + +When she returned, more music was going on. As soon as she could, Eve +said, inquiringly, "Well?" + +"It was from Ferdie." + +"Is he coming back?" + +"Yes," responded Cicely, unmoved. + +Eve's thoughts had flown to her own plans. But she found time to think, +"What a cold little creature it is, after all!" + +At that moment they could say no more. + +About midnight, when Eve was in her own room, undressing, there was a +tap at the door, and Cicely entered. She had taken off her dress; a +forlorn little blue shawl was drawn tightly round her shoulders. + +She walked to the dressing-table, where Eve was sitting, took up a +brush, and looked at it vaguely. "I didn't mean to tell any one; but I +have changed my mind, I am going to tell you." Putting down the brush, +she let the shawl fall back. There across her white breast was a long +purple scar, and a second one over her delicate little shoulder. "He did +it," she said. Her eyes, fixed upon Eve's, were proud and brilliant. + +"You don't mean--you don't mean that your _husband_--" stammered Eve, in +horror. + +"Yes, Ferdie. He did it." + +"Is he mad?" + +"Only after he has been drinking." + +"Oh, you poor little thing!" said Eve, taking her in her arms +protectingly. "I have been so hard to you, Cicely, so cruel! But I did +not know--I did not know." Her tears flowed. + +"I am telling you on account of baby," Cicely went on, in the same +unmoved tone. + +"Has he dared to touch baby?" said Eve, springing up. + +"Yes, Eve; he broke poor baby's little arm; of course when he did not +know what he was doing. When he gets that way he does not know us; he +thinks we are enemies, and he thinks it is his duty to attack us. Once +he put us out-of-doors--baby and me--in the middle of the night, with +only our night-dresses on; fortunately it wasn't very cold. That time, +and the time he broke baby's arm (he seized him by the arm and flung him +out of his crib), we were not in Savannah; we were off by ourselves for +a month, we three. Baby was so young that the bone was easily set. +Nobody ever knew about it, I never told. But--but it must not happen +again." She looked at Eve with the same unmoved gaze. + +"I should rather think not! Give him to me, Cicely, and let me take him +away--at least for the present. You know you said--" + +"I said 'perhaps.' But I cannot let him go now--not just now. I am +telling you what has happened because you really seem to care for him." + +"I think I have showed that I care for him!" + +"Well, I have let you." + +"What are we to do, then, if you won't let me take him away?" said Eve, +in despair. "Will that man come here?" + +"He may. He will go to Savannah, and if he learns there that I am here, +he may follow me. But he will never go to Romney, he doesn't like +Romney; even in the beginning, when I begged him to go, he never would. +He--" She paused. + +"Jealous, I suppose," suggested the sister, with a bitter +laugh--"jealous of Jack's poor bones in the burying-ground. Your two +ghosts will have a duel, Cicely." + +"Oh, _Ferdie_ isn't dead!" said Cicely, with sudden terror. She grasped +Eve's arm. "Have you heard anything? Tell me--tell me." + +Eve looked at her. + +"Yes, I love him," said Cicely, answering the look. "I have loved him +ever since the first hour I saw him. It's more than love; it's +adoration." + +"You never said that of Jack." + +"No; for it wouldn't have been true." + +The two women faced each other--the tall Eve, the dark little wife. + +"Oh, if I could only get away from this hideous country--this whole +horrible South!" said Eve, walking up and down the room like a caged +tigress. + +"You would like him if you knew him," Cicely went on, gently. "It seldom +happens--that other; and when it doesn't happen, Eve--" + +Eve put out her hand with a repelling gesture. "Let me take baby and +go." + +"Not now. But he will be safe at Romney." + +"In Heaven's name, then, let us get him back to Romney." + +"Yes; to-morrow." + +Little Jack was asleep in his crib by the side of Eve's bed, for she +still kept him with her at night. Cicely went to the crib and looked at +her child; Eve followed her. + +The little boy's night-dress had fallen open, revealing one shoulder and +arm. "It was just here," whispered Cicely, kneeling down and softly +touching the baby-flesh. She looked up at Eve, her eyes thick with +tears. + +"Why, you care?" said Eve. "Care for him?--the baby, I mean." She spoke +her thoughts aloud, unwittingly. + +"Did you think I didn't care?" asked Cicely, with a smile. + +It was the strangest smile Eve had ever seen. + + + + +VIII. + + +Early spring at Romney. The yellow jessamine was nearly gone, the other +flowers were coming out; Atamasco lilies shone whitely everywhere; the +long line of the islands and the opposite mainland were white with +blossoms, the salt-marshes were freshly green; shoals, which had +wallowed under water since Christmas, lifted their heads; the great +river came back within its banks again. + +Three weeks had passed since their return to the island. They had made +the journey without the judge, who had remained in South Carolina to +give his aid to the widow of his old friend, Roland Pettigru, who had +become involved in a lawsuit. The three weeks had been slow and +anxious--anxious, that is, to Eve. Cicely had returned to her muteness. +Once, at the beginning, when Eve had pressed her with questions, she +said, as general answer, "In any case, Ferdie will not come here." After +that, when again--once or twice--Eve had asked, "Have you heard anything +more?" Cicely had returned no reply whatever; she had let her passive +glance rest upon Eve and then glide to something else, as though she had +not spoken. Eve was proud, she too remained silent. She knew that she +had done nothing to win Cicely's confidence; women understand women, and +Cicely had perceived from the first, of course, that Jack's sister did +not like her. + +But since that midnight revelation at Cousin Sarah Cray's, Eve no longer +disliked Cicely; on the contrary, she was attracted towards her by a +sort of unwilling surprise. Often, when they were with the others, she +would look at her twenty times in a half-hour, endeavoring to fathom +something of the real nature of this little girl (to Eve, Cicely always +seemed a school-girl), who had borne a tragedy in silence, covering it +with her jests, covering it also with her coldness. But was Cicely +really cold to all the world but Ferdie? She was not so, at least, as +regarded her child; no one who had seen her on her knees that night +beside the crib could doubt her love for him. Yet she let Eve have him +for hours at a time, she let her have him at night, without even Dilsey +to look after him; she never interfered, constantly as Eve claimed him +and kept him. In spite of her confidence in her own perceptions, in +spite of her confidence, too, in her own will, which she believed could +force a solution in almost every case, Eve Bruce was obliged to +acknowledge to herself that she was puzzled. + +Now and then she would be harassed by the question as to whether she +ought not to tell Miss Sabrina what she knew, whether she ought not to +tell the judge. But Cicely had spared them, and Cicely had asked her to +be equally merciful. At night, when lying awake, the horror of the poor +baby's broken arm would sometimes come to her so vividly that she would +light the candle in haste to see if he were safe. If Ferdie should come +here, after all! Cicely had said that he would not; but who could trust +Cicely,--loving the man as she did? To Eve, after all that had happened, +Cicely's love seemed a mania as insane as the homicidal deliriums of +the husband. + +As to these deliriums, she tried to picture what they must be: the baby +hurled from his little crib--that made her shudder with rage; she should +not be afraid of the madman, then; she should attack him in return! +Sometimes it was Cicely whom she saw, Cicely, shrinking under blows; it +must have been something heavy and sharp, a billet of wood, perhaps, +that had caused the scars across her white breast. She remembered that +once, when inwardly exasperated by Cicely's fresh fairness, she had +accused her of never having known what it was to be really tired in all +her life. Cicely had answered, rather hesitatingly, "I don't know that I +have ever been _tired_, exactly." She had not been tired--no. She had +only been half killed. + +The poor little girl's muteness, her occasional outbursts of wild sport, +her jests and laughter, her abstractions, and the coldness sometimes +seen in her beautiful eyes, were these the results of suffering? She +questioned Miss Sabrina a little. + +"She has always been the same, except that since her second marriage she +is much more quiet," replied the unconscious aunt. "Until then she was +like quicksilver, she used to run through the thickets so swiftly that +no one could follow her, and she used to play ball by the hour with--" +Here the speaker paused, disconcerted. + +"With Jack," Eve added, her face contracting with the old pain. + +Miss Sabrina had at last perceived this pain, and the discovery had +stopped her affectionate allusions. But she did not forget--Eve often +found her carefully made wreaths laid upon Jack's grave. As for Eve +herself, she never brought a flower; she walked to and fro beside the +mound, and the sojourn generally ended in angry thoughts. Why should +other people keep their loved ones, and she be bereft? What had she +done, what had Jack done, that was so wrong? God was not good, because +He was not kind; people did not ask Him to create them, but when once He +had done it for His own pleasure, and there they were, helpless, in His +world, why should He torture them so? To make them better? Why didn't He +make them better in the beginning, when He was creating them? Or else +not make them at all! + +One afternoon during the fourth week after their return to Romney, she +was on her way back with Miss Sabrina from Singleton Island; the two had +been dining there, the Southern three-o'clock dinner, and now at sunset +the row-boat was bringing them home. To Eve the visit had been like a +day's truce, a short period, when one merely waits; the afternoon was +beautiful, the Sound like a mirror; the home-island, when they left it, +had been peacefully lovely, the baby from his wagon kissing his hand to +them, and Dilsey squatting on the bank by his side, a broad grin of +contentment on her dusky face. Cicely had declined the invitation, +sending a jocular message to "little Rupert," which inspired him with +laughter all day. + +The dinner had been excellent as regards the succulence of its South +Carolina dishes. The damask tablecloth was thin from age, the +dinner-service a mixture of old Canton blue and the commonest, thickest +white plates; coarse dull goblets stood beside cut-glass wine-glasses; +the knives were in the last stage of decrepitude, and there was no +silver at all, not even a salt-spoon; it had been replaced by cheaply +plated spoons and forks, from which the plate was already half gone. +Blanche, the old negro woman, waited, assisted by the long-legged +Lucasta, and by little Boliver, who was attired for the occasion in a +pair of trousers which extended from his knees to his shoulders, over +which they were tightly strapped by means of strings. Boliver's part was +to bring the hot dishes from the outside kitchen, which was in a cabin +at some distance--a task which he performed with dignity, varied, +however, by an occasional somerset on the veranda, when he thought no +one was looking. Rupert was genial, very gallant to the ladies; he +carried his gallantry so far that he even drank their health several +times, the only wine being the mainland Madeira. Mrs. Singleton was +hospitable and affectionate, remaining unconscious (in manner) as to the +many deficiencies. And Eve looked on admiringly, as though it had been a +beautiful, half-pathetic little play; for to her it was all +pictorial--these ruined old houses on their blooming desolate islands, +with the ancient hospitality still animating them in spite of all that +had passed. The short voyage over, the row-boat stopped at Romney +landing. There was no one waiting for them; Abram assisted Miss Sabrina, +and then Eve, to step from one of the boat's seats to the dock. Eve +lingered for a moment, looking at the sunset; then she too turned +towards the house. The path winding under the trees was already dusky, +Miss Sabrina was a dozen yards in advance; as she approached a bend, Eve +saw some one come round it and meet her. It was a figure too tall to be +the judge; it was a young man; it was a person she had not seen; she +made these successive discoveries as she drew nearer. She decided that +it was a neighbor from one of the southern islands, who had taken +advantage of the lovely afternoon for a sail. + +When she came up she found Miss Sabrina half laughing, half crying; she +had given the stranger both her hands. "Oh, Eve, it is Ferdinand. And I +did not know him!" + +"How could you expect to know me, when you have never seen me in your +life?" asked the young man, laughing. + +"But we have your picture. I ought to have known--" + +"My dear aunt, never accuse yourself; your dearest friends will always +do that for you. I dare say my picture doesn't half do me justice." + +He spoke jestingly; but there was still twilight enough to show Eve that +what he had said was simply the truth. The photograph was handsome, but +the real face was handsomer, the features beautiful, the eyes blue and +piercing. + +"This is Cicely's sister Eve," said Miss Sabrina. "She has come out--so +kindly--from England to pay us a visit." + +Ferdinand put out his hand with a bright smile. He had a smile which +would have been a fitting one for a typical figure of youthful Hope. + +Eve could not refuse, conspicuously, to give him her hand in return. It +all seemed to her a dream--his sudden appearance in the dusky path, and +his striking beauty. She did not speak. But her muteness passed +unnoticed, because for once in her life Miss Sabrina was voluble, her +words tumbled over one another. "Such a surprise! _So_ nice! _so_ +delightful! How little we thought this morning, when we rose as usual, +and everything was the same--how little we thought that it would be such +a sweet, such a happy day!" + +Ferdinand laughed again, throwing back his handsome head a little--a +movement that was habitual with him. He gave Miss Sabrina his arm, drew +her hand through it and held it in his own, as they moved onward towards +the house. On the veranda, Cicely was waiting for them, her cheeks +flushed with pink. Eve expected a defiant look, a glance that would dare +her to express either her surprise or her fear; instead of that, +Cicely's eyes, meeting hers, were full of trust and sweetness, as if she +believed that Eve would sympathize with her joy, as if she had entirely +forgotten that there was any reason why Eve should not share it. Miss +Sabrina sympathized, if Eve did not; she kissed Cicely with a motherly +tenderness, and then, as she raised her wet eyes again towards +Ferdinand, she looked so extraordinarily pleased that the young man bent +and kissed her faded cheek. "There, auntie," he said, "now we've made +acquaintance; you must take me in as a genuine nephew. And improve me." + +"Oh, improve," murmured Miss Sabrina, gazing at him near-sightedly. She +put on her glasses (without turning her back) in order to see him more +clearly. It marked a great emotion on her part--the not turning her +back. + +Eve went to her room; she thought that Cicely would follow her. But no +one came until Powlyne knocked to say that tea was ready. At first Eve +thought that she would not go to the dining-room, that she would send +an excuse. The next moment she felt driven not only to go, but to +hasten; to be always present in order to see everything and hear +everything; this would be her office; she must watch for the incipient +stages of what she dreaded. Cicely had said that it happened rarely. +Would to God that the man would be touched by poor Miss Sabrina's loving +welcome, and by little Cicely's deep joy, and refrain. But perhaps these +very things would excite the longing that led to the madness! + +When she reached the dining-room and saw the bright faces at the table, +Miss Sabrina looking younger than she had looked for years, and wearing +the white lace cape, Cicely, too, freshly dressed, and Ferdinand, they +seemed to her like phantasmagoria. Or was it that these were the +realities, and the phantasms the frightful visions which had haunted her +nightly during all these waiting weeks? + +As Ferdie talked (already Miss Sabrina had begun to call him Ferdie), it +was impossible not to listen; there was a frankness in what he said, and +in his sunny smile, which was irresistibly winning. And the contrast +between these and his height and strength--this too was attractive. They +sat long at the table; Eve felt that she was the foreign element, not +he; that she was the stranger within their gates. She had made no change +in her dress; suddenly it occurred to her that Ferdie must hate her for +her mourning garb, which of course would bring Jack Bruce to his mind. +As she thought of this, she looked at him. His eyes happened to meet +hers at the moment, and he gave her a charming smile. No, there was no +hate there. In the drawing-room, later, he told them comical stories of +South America; he took Cicely's guitar and sang South American songs; +the three women sat looking at him, Cicely in her mute bliss, Miss +Sabrina with her admiration and her interest, Eve with her perplexity. +His hand, touching the strings, was well-shaped, powerful; was that the +hand which had struck a woman? A little child? As the evening wore on, +she almost began to believe that Cicely had invented the whole of her +damning tale; that the baby's arm had never been broken, and that her +own hurts had been received in some other way. She looked at Cicely. But +there was something very straightforward in her pure little face. + +At ten o'clock she rose. Cicely made no motion, she was evidently not +coming with her. + +"Can I speak to you for a moment, Cicely?" + +"Oh, yes," answered Cicely, with alacrity. "What is it?" She followed +Eve into the hall. + +Eve closed the door; then she drew her into the dining-room, which was +still lighted. "You said he would not come here." + +"Oh!" with a long breath; "he never would do it for me before, though I +asked him, and asked him. And yet he has done it now! Think of that!" + +Eve put her hands on Cicely's shoulders as if to keep her, to call her +back to realities. "Have you forgotten all you said that night at Mrs. +Cray's?" + +Cicely gave a joyful laugh. "Yes." Then, more defiantly, "Yes, I have +forgotten the whole!" But her tone changed back swiftly to its happy +confidence again: "Nothing will happen, Eve; you needn't be afraid." + +"Has he told you so?" + +"Oh, we never _speak_ of it," answered Cicely, looking at her with +large, surprised eyes. "Did you think we _spoke_ of it--of such a thing +as that? A husband and wife--people who love each other? But you needn't +be troubled; it's over forever." She disappeared. + +Eve waited a moment; then she went to her room. Before she reached her +door Cicely overtook her; she had run swiftly after her down the long +corridor. She put her arms round Eve from behind, and whispered, with +her lips against Eve's throat, "I ran after you to say that I hope that +_you_ will have, some day, as much happiness as mine." Then she was +gone, as swiftly as she had come. + +To wish her a love like her own, this seemed almost a curse, a +malediction. But, fortunately, there was no danger that she, Eve Bruce, +should ever fall a victim to such miseries; to love any man so +submissively was weakness, but to love as Cicely loved, that was +degradation! + +Her image gazed back at her from the mirror, fair in its tints, but +strangely, almost fiercely, proud; at that moment she was revolting, +dumbly, against the injustice of all the ages, past, present, and to +come, towards women. + + + + +IX. + + +Ferdie had been two weeks at Romney. + +Halcyon days they had seemed, each one beautiful from morning to night, +with blue skies and golden sunshine; blossoms covered the trees, the air +was full of perfume. Ferdie must always be doing something; besides the +hunting and fishing, he had made a new swing, a new dock; he had taught +the negroes base-ball; he had rowed and sailed hither and thither--up +the river, out to sea, and north and south along the sounds, paying +visits at the various islands when Cicely desired them. Every one was +delighted with him, from Miss Sabrina down to the smallest darky; the +captains of the Inland Route steamers grew accustomed to seeing him on +the dock at Jupiter Light; the store-keeper on the mainland opposite +looked out every morning for his sail coming across the Sound. Cicely, +in the same state of mute bliss, accompanied him everywhere; Miss +Sabrina went whenever the excursion was not too long. The negroes +followed him about in a troop; of their own accord they gave him the +title of "young marse." + +Through these days Eve felt herself an alien; Cicely said nothing to her +save when she was with the others; she never came to her in her own +room. And Eve could not feel that this neglect was caused by dislike; it +was simply the egotism of perfect happiness. When Eve was present, +Cicely talked to her; when she was not present, Cicely hardly remembered +her existence. Miss Sabrina was not quite so forgetful, but she too was +absorbed; Eve sometimes sat all the evening without speaking; +fortunately she could make her stay short, under the pretext of not +disturbing Jack by coming in late. She was not a timid woman, not a +woman easily disheartened; each long, solitary day (for she seldom +accompanied them), each silent evening, only strengthened her purpose of +carrying away the child. She kept him with her constantly; Cicely +allowed it, and Ferdie, after one or two good-natured attempts to carry +off the little boy for a romp, left him undisturbed to his aunt. Whether +Cicely had told him to do this, Eve did not know. + +Strangely enough, Ferdie talked to her more than the others did. Several +times, seeing her in the grove with Jack, he had come out to join her. +And always, as he approached, Eve would make some excuse, and send the +child farther away; this action on her part was involuntary. One morning +she had gone to the beach. She had been there half an hour when she saw +his figure emerging from the bush-bordered road. "Take Jack away," she +said quickly to Dilsey. + +Dilsey, vexed at being ordered off when handsome "young marse" was +approaching, took her charge round a point entirely out of sight, so +that Eve and Ferdie were alone. The child gone, Eve could turn all her +attention to the man by her side; her watching mood came upon her, the +mood in which she spent her evenings. Ferdie had thrown himself down on +the sand; handsome as he was, Eve had discovered faults in his face; the +features were in danger of becoming too sharp; a little more, and the +cheeks would be thin. The mouth had a flattening at the corners, a +partly unconscious, partly voluntary action of the muscles, like that +which accompanies a "dare" (so Eve described it to herself) on the part +of a boy who has come off conqueror in one fight, but who is expecting +another and severer one in a moment. This expression (it was visible +when he was silent) and a look in his eyes sometimes--these two things +seemed to Eve signs of the curse. They were slight signs, however; they +would not have been discovered by one woman in a thousand; for Ferdie +was not only handsome, there was also something charming about him. But +Eve had small admiration for the charming. + +To-day, as Ferdie lounged beside her, she determined to try an +experiment. + +"I am very anxious to have Jack," she began. + +"It seems to me that you do have him; it's a complete possession," +answered Ferdie, laughing; "I've scarcely been able to touch the +youngster since I came." + +"I mean that I want him to live with me, as though he were my own child; +I would bring him up with all possible care." + +"Have you made a vow, then, never to marry?" Ferdie demanded, looking at +her with a merry gleam in his eyes. + +"Should you object--if Cicely were willing to give him to me?" Eve +continued, a slight haughtiness in her manner alone replying to his +remark. + +"I suppose I couldn't, though I'm fond of the little chap." ("Fond!" Eve +thought. She looked at him, with parted lips, in suspense.) "But I can't +imagine Cicely's consenting," Ferdie went on; "she is devoted to the +child." + +"Not so much as she is to you." + +"Do you want _me_ to urge her to give him to you?" + +"Yes," Eve answered. + +"Why do you want him? For your own pleasure?" + +Eve hesitated a moment. "Partly." + +"Are you by any possibility fancying that you can take better care of +him than we can?" asked Ferdie, relapsing into his laugh, and sending +another pebble skimming over the shining waters. "Leaving Cicely aside, +I am the jolliest of fathers." + +"It must be that he does not know," Eve thought; "whatever his faults, +hypocrisy is not one of them." + +But this only made him the more terrible to her--a man who could change +so unconsciously into a savage. + +"Granting the jolliness, I wish you would ask Cicely," she said; "do it +for my sake. I am lonely, I shall grow lonelier. It would be everything +to me to have him." + +"Of course you will grow lonelier," said Ferdie. He turned towards her, +leaning on his elbow. "Come, let me advise you; don't be a forlorn old +maid. All women ought to marry; it is much better for them." + +"Are they then so sure to be happy?" asked Eve, sarcastically. + +"Of course they are.--The nice ones." + +Eve looked at him. "Even when married to brutes?--to madmen?" + +"Oh, you wouldn't select a brute. As for the madmen, they are locked +up," answered Ferdie, comfortably. + +Eve rose. "I don't know what I shall say next--if I stay here," was her +thought. + +"I wish you knew my brother Paul," remarked Ferdie as he lifted himself +from the sand. "_I_ can't argue with you, _I_ can't put you down" (his +smile as he said "put you down" was wonderfully sweet). "But he +could--Paul could; and what's more, he would, too! He hates a woman who +goes on as you do." + +"Your brother lives in Canada, I believe?" said Eve, coldly. + +"Canada?--what gave you that idea? He loathes Canada. He has charge of a +mine on Lake Superior. He has always worked tremendously hard, poor old +Paul! I have never approved of it, such a steady grind as that." + +"What is the name of the place?" + +"Port aux Pins; called by the natives Potterpins. Are you thinking of +going there?" + +"I may," Eve answered. Her tone was defiant in spite of herself; what +did she care for Port aux Pins and his brother, save for their +connection with his wretched self? + +They had begun to walk towards home; Dilsey was in advance with Jack. "I +beg you to urge Cicely to let me have him," Eve began again, her eyes +resting on Jack's little wagon. + +"You have made up your mind to ask a favor of me; you must want it +terribly," Ferdie responded. He took off his hat and let the breeze blow +over his forehead. "I will do what I can for you. Of course we cannot, +Cicely and I, give up her child to you entirely; but he might live with +you for part of the year, as you desire it so much. My intention is to +go back to Valparaiso; I like the life there, and I shall make it my +home; there are excellent houses to be had, I have one in view at this +moment. Later, of course, Cicely would wish her boy to come to her +there. But in the meantime, while he is still so young--yes, I will do +what I can for you; you may count upon me." + +"Thanks," answered Eve. Her words were humble, but she did not look +humble as she spoke them; Ferdie with his favors and his good-nature +seemed to her more menacing than ever. + +The tranquil life went on. Every morning she said to herself, "To-day +something must happen!" But the Arcadian hours continued, and two more +weeks passed slowly by. Eve began to hate the sunshine, the brilliant, +undimmed southern stars. + +"My dear, you are growing paler," said Miss Sabrina one day. "Perhaps +this sea-air of ours is not good for you." + +Eve wanted to reply: "Is it good to be watching every instant?--to be +listening and starting and thinking one hears something?" "You are +right; it is not," she answered aloud; "all the same, I will stay awhile +longer, if you will let me." + +"Oh, my dear--when we want you to _live_ here!" + +"Perhaps I shall die here," Eve responded, with a laugh. + +Miss Sabrina looked at her in surprise; for the laugh was neither gentle +nor sweet. + +Eve was tired, tired mentally and physically; this state of passive +waiting taxed her; action of some sort, even though accompanied by the +hardest conditions, would have been easier to her ardent unconquered +will. She occupied herself with Jack; she said as little as she could to +Ferdie; and she watched Cicely. Underneath this watchfulness there grew +up a strong contempt for love. + + + + +X. + + +"Eve!" A hand on Eve's shoulder. + +Eve sat up in bed with a start; Cicely stood beside her, candle in hand. +"Help me to dress Jack," she said. + +Eve was out of bed in an instant. She lighted her own candle. + +Cicely lifted the sleeping child from his crib, and began hastily to +dress him. Eve brought all the little garments quickly. "Are you going +to take him out of the house?" she asked. (They spoke in whispers.) + +"Yes." + +Eve threw on her own clothes. + +After a moment, during which the hands of both women moved rapidly, Eve +said, "Where is he?" + +"Outside--out of the house for the moment. But he will come back; and +then, if he comes down this hall, we must escape." + +"Where? We must have the same ideas, you know," said Eve, buttoning her +dress, and taking her hat and shawl from the wardrobe. + +"I thought we could go through the ballroom, and out by the north wing." + +"And once outside?" + +"We must hide." + +"But where?" + +"In the thicket." + +"It isn't a very large space. Supposing Jack should cry?" + +Cicely went on fastening Jack's little coat. "I can't talk!" + +"You needn't," said Eve; "I'll take care of you!" + +The hasty dressing completed, the two candles were extinguished. Jack +had fallen asleep again. Cicely held him herself; she would not let Eve +take him. They opened the door softly, and stood together outside in the +dark hall. The seconds passed and turned into minutes; the minutes +became three, then five; but the space of time seemed a half-hour. Eve, +standing still in the darkness, recovered her coolness; she stepped +noiselessly back into her room for a moment or two; then she returned +and resumed the watch. Cicely's little figure standing beside her looked +very small. + +By-and-by the door at the far end of the hall opened, and for the first +time in her life Eve saw a vision: Ferdie, half dressed and carrying a +lighted candle, appeared, his eyes fierce and fixed, his cheeks flushed. +At that moment his beauty was terrible; but he saw nothing, heard +nothing; he was like a man listening to something afar off. + +"Come," whispered Cicely. + +Swiftly and noiselessly she went round the angle of the corridor, opened +a door, and, closing it behind them, led the way to the north wing; Eve +followed, or rather she kept by her side. After a breathless winding +transit through the labyrinth of halls and chambers, they reached the +ballroom. + +"Now we can run," Cicely whispered. Silently they ran. + +Before they had quite reached the door at the far end, they heard a +sound behind them, and saw a gleam across the floor: he had not waited +in Eve's room, then; he had divined their flight, and was following. +Cicely's hand swiftly found and lifted the latch; she opened the door, +and they passed through. Eve gave one glance over her shoulder; he was +advancing, but he was not running; his eyes had the same stare. + +Cicely threw up a window, gave Jack to Eve, climbed by the aid of a +chair to the sill and jumped out; then she put up her arms for Jack, and +Eve followed her; they drew down the window behind them from the +outside. There was a moon, but dark clouds obscured its light; the air +was still. Cicely led the way to the thicket; pushing her way within, +she sank down, the bushes crackling loudly as she did so. "Hurry!" she +said to Eve. + +Eve crouched beside her beneath the dense foliage. They could see +nothing, but they could hear. They remained motionless. + +After several minutes of suspense they heard a step on the plank floor +of the veranda; he had made his way out. Then followed silence; the +silence was worse than the sound of his steps; they had the sense that +he was close upon them. + +After some time without another sound, suddenly his candle gleamed +directly over them; he had approached them unheard by the road, Eve not +knowing and Cicely having forgotten that it was so near. For an instant +Eve's heart stopped beating, she thought that they were discovered; +escape was cut off, for the thorns and spiny leaves held their skirts +like so many hands. But the fixed eyes did not see them; after a moment +the beautiful, cruel face, lit by the yellow gleam of the candle, +disappeared from above; the light moved farther away. He was going down +the road; every now and then they could see that he threw a ray to the +right and the left, as if still searching. + +"He will go through the whole thicket, now that he has the idea," Cicely +whispered. They crept into the road, Eve carrying Jack. But, once +outside, Cicely took him again. They stood erect, they looked back; he +and his candle were still going on towards the sea. + +Cicely turned; she took a path which led to the north point. "There's no +thicket there. And if he comes, there's a boat." + +The distance to the point was nearly a mile. The white sand of the track +guided them through the dark woods. + +"Shouldn't you be safer, after all, in the house?" Eve asked. + +"No, for this time he is determined to kill us; he thinks that I am some +one else, a woman who is going to attack his wife; and he thinks that +Jack is some other child, who has injured _his_ Jack." + +"He shall never touch Jack! Give him to me, Cicely; he is too heavy for +you." + +"I will not give him to any one--any one," Cicely answered, panting. + +As they approached the north point, the moon shone through a rift in the +clouds; suddenly it was as light as day; their faces and hands were +ivory white in the radiance. + +"What is that on your throat, and down the front of your dress?" said +Eve. "It's wet. Why, it's blood!" + +"Yes; I am cut here a little," Cicely answered, making a gesture with +her chin towards her left shoulder; "I suppose it has begun to bleed +again. He has a knife to-night. That is what makes me so afraid." + +The Sound now came into view. At the same instant Eve, looking back, +perceived a point of yellow light behind them; the path was straight for +a long distance, and the light was far away; but it was advancing in +their direction. Little Jack, fully awakened by their rapid flight, had +lifted his head, trying to see his mother's face; as no one paid any +attention to him, he began to cry. His voice seemed to make Cicely +frantic; clasping him close, pressing his head down against her breast, +she broke into a run. + +"Get into the boat and push off, don't wait for me; _I'm_ in no danger," +Eve called after her. She stood there watching. + +Cicely reached the beach, put Jack into the boat, and then tried to push +it off. It was a heavy old row-boat, kept there for the convenience of +the negroes who wished to cross to Singleton Island; to-night it was +drawn up so high on the sands that with all her effort Cicely could not +launch it. She strained every muscle to the utmost; in her ears there +was a loud rushing sound; she paused dizzily, turning her head away from +the water for a moment, and as she did so, she too saw the gleam, pale +in the moonlight, far down the path. She did not scream, there was a +tension in her throat which kept all sound from her parched mouth; she +climbed into the boat, seized Jack, and staggered forward with the vague +purpose of jumping into the water from the boat's stern; but she did not +get far, she sank suddenly down. + +"She has fainted; so much the better," Eve thought. Jack, who had fallen +as his mother fell, cried loudly. "He is not hurt; at least not +seriously," she said to herself. Then, turning into the wood, she made +her way back towards the advancing point of light. After some progress +she stopped. + +Ferdie was walking rapidly now; in his left hand he held his candle high +in the air; in his right, which hung by his side, there was something +that gleamed. The moonlight shone full upon his face, and Eve could see +the expression, whose slight signs she had noticed, the flattening of +the corners of the mouth; this was now so deepened that his lips wore a +slight grin. Jack's wail, which had ceased for several minutes, now +began again, and at the same instant his moving head could be seen above +the boat's side; he had disengaged himself, and was trying to climb up +higher, by the aid of one of the seats, in order to give larger vent to +his astonishment and his grief. + +Ferdie saw him; his shoulders made a quick movement; an inarticulate +sound came from his flattened, grimacing mouth. Then he began to run +towards the boat. At the same moment there was the crack, not loud, of a +pistol discharged very near. The running man lunged forward and fell +heavily to his knees; then to the sand. His arms made one or two +spasmodic movements. Then they were still. + +Eve's figure went swiftly through the wood towards the shore; she held +her skirts closely, as if afraid of their rustling sound. Reaching the +boat, she made a mighty effort, both hands against the bow, her body +slanting forward, her feet far behind her, deep in the sand and pressing +against it. She was very strong, and the boat moved, it slid down slowly +and gratingly; more and more of its long length entered the water, until +at last only the bow still touched the sand. Eve jumped in, pushed off +with an oar, and then, stepping over Cicely's prostrate form to reach +one of the seats, she sat down and began to row, brushing little Jack +aside with her knee (he fell down more amazed and grief-stricken than +ever), and placing her feet against the next seat as a brace. She rowed +with long strokes and with all her might; perhaps he was not much hurt, +after all; perhaps he too had a pistol, and could reach them. She +watched the beach breathlessly. + +The Sound was smooth; before long a wide space of water, with the +silvery path of the moon across it, separated them from Abercrombie +Island. Still she could not stop. She looked at Cicely's motionless +figure; Jack, weary with crying, had crawled as far as one of her knees +and laid his head against it, sobbing "Aunty Eve? Aunty Eve?" + +"Yes, darling," said Eve, mechanically, still watching the other shore. + +At last, with her hands smarting, her arms strained, she reached +Singleton Island. After beaching the boat, she knelt down and chafed +Cicely's temples, wetting her handkerchief by dipping it over the boat's +side, and then pressing it on the dead-white little face. Cicely sighed. +Then she opened her eyes and looked up, only half consciously, at the +sky. Next she looked at Eve, who was bending over her, and memory came +back. + +"We are safe," Eve said, answering the look; "we are on Singleton +Island, and no one is following us." She lifted the desperate little +Jack and put him in his mother's arms. + +Cicely sat up, she kissed her child passionately. But she fell back +again, Eve supporting her. + +"Let me see that--that place," Eve said. With nervous touch she turned +down the little lace ruffle, which was dark and limp with the stain of +the life-tide. + +"It's nothing," murmured Cicely. The cut had missed its aim, it was low +down on the throat, near the collar-bone; it was a flesh-wound, not +dangerous. + +Cicely pushed away Eve's hands and sat up. "Where is Ferdie?" she +demanded. + +"He--he is on the other island," Eve answered, hesitatingly. "Don't you +remember that he followed us?--that we were trying to escape?" + +"Well, we have escaped," said Cicely. "And now I want to know where he +is." + +She got on her feet, stepped out of the boat to the sand, and lifted +Jack out; she muffled the child in a shawl, and made him walk with her +to the edge of the water. Here she stood looking at the home-island, +straining her eyes in the misty moonlight. + +Eve followed her. "I think the farther away we go, Cicely, the better; +at least for the present. The steamer stops at Singleton Landing at +dawn; we can go on board as we are, and get what is necessary in +Savannah." + +"Why don't I see him on the beach?" said Cicely. "I could see him if he +were there--I could see him walking. If he followed us, as you say, why +don't I see him!" She put a hand on each side of her mouth, making a +circle of them, and called with all her strength, "Ferdie? Fer-die?" + +"Are you mad?" said Eve. + +"Fer-die?" cried Cicely again. + +Eve pulled down her hands. "He can't hear you." + +"Why can't he?" said Cicely, turning and looking at her. + +"It's too far," answered Eve, in a trembling voice. + +"Perhaps he has gone for a boat," Cicely suggested. + +"Yes, perhaps he has," Eve assented, eagerly. And for a moment the two +women gazed southward with the same hopefulness. + +Then Eve came back to reality. "What are we thinking of? Do you want to +have Jack killed?" + +Cicely threw up her arms. "Oh, if it weren't for Jack!" Her despair at +that moment gave her majesty. + +"Give him to me; let _me_ take him away," urged Eve again. + +"I will never give him to any one; I will never leave him, never." + +"Then you must both go with me for the present; we will go farther north +than Savannah; we will go to New York." + +"There is only one place I will go to--one person, and that is Paul; +Ferdie _loves_ Paul;--I will go nowhere else." + +"Very well; we will go to Paul." + +The struggle was over; Cicely's voice had grown lifeless. Little Jack, +tired out, laid himself despairingly down on the sand; she sat down +beside him, rearranged the shawl under him and over him, and then, as he +fell asleep, she clasped her hands round her knees, and waited inertly, +her eyes fixed on the opposite beach. + +Eve, standing behind her, also watched the home-island. "If I could only +see him!" was her constant prayer. She was even ready to accept the +sight of a boat shooting from the shadows which lay dark on the western +side, a boat coming in pursuit; he would have had time, perhaps, to get +to the skiff which was kept on that side, not far from the point; he +knew where all the boats were. Five minutes--six--had elapsed since they +landed; yes, he would have had time. She looked and looked; she was +almost sure that she saw a boat advancing, and clasped her hands in joy. + +But where could they go, in case he should really come? To Singleton +House, where there was only a lame old man, and women? There was no door +there which he could not batter down, no lock which could keep him +out--the terrible, beautiful madman. No; it was better to think, to +believe, that he _could_ not come. + +She walked back to the trees that skirted the beach, leaned her clasped +arms against the trunk of one of them, and, laying her head upon the arm +that was uppermost, stood motionless. + + + + +XI. + + +The dawn was still very faint when the steamer stopped at Singleton +Landing. There was no one waiting save an old negro, who caught the +shore rope, and there was no one stirring on the boat save the gruff +captain, muffled in an overcoat though the night was warm, and two +deck-hands, who put ashore a barrel and a sack. Lights were burning +dimly on board; the negro on the dock carried a lantern. + +Two women came from the shadows, and crossed the plank to the lower +deck, entering the dark space within, which was encumbered with loose +freight--crates of fowls, boxes, barrels, coils of rope. The taller of +the two women carried a sleeping child. + +For Cicely had come to the end of her strength; she could hardly walk. + +Eve found the sleepy mulatto woman who answered to the name of +stewardess, and told her to give them a cabin immediately. + +"Cabin? Why, de cabin's dish-yere," answered the woman, making a motion +with her hand to indicate the gaudy little saloon in which they stood. +She surveyed them with wonder. + +"State-room," murmured Cicely. + +Upon the lower bed in the very unstately white cell which was at last +opened for them, her little figure was soon stretched out, +apathetically. Her eyes remained closed; the dawn, as it grew brighter, +did not tempt her to open them; she lay thus all day. Jack slept +profoundly for several hours on the shelf-like bed above her. Then he +woke, and instantly became very merry, laughing to see the shining green +water outside, the near shores, the houses and groves and fields, and +now and then a row-boat under sail. Eve brought him some bread and milk, +and then she gave him a bath; he gurgled with laughter, and played all +his little tricks and games, one after the other. But Cicely remained +inert, she could not have been more still if she had been dead; the rise +and fall of her chest as she breathed was so slight that Eve was obliged +to look closely in order to distinguish it at all. Just before they +reached Savannah she raised her to a sitting position, and held a cup of +coffee to her lips. Cicely drank. Then, as the steamer stopped, Eve +lifted her to her feet. + +Cicely's eyes opened; they looked at Eve reproachfully. + +"It will only take a few moments to go to the hotel," Eve answered. + +She called the stewardess and made her carry Jack; she herself half +carried Cicely. She signalled to the negro driver of one of the +carriages waiting at the dock, and in a few minutes, as she had said, +she was undressing her little sister-in-law and lifting her into a cool, +broad bed. + +Jack asleep, she began her watch. The sun was setting, she went to one +of the windows, and looked out. Below her was a wide street without +pavement, bordered on each side by magnificent trees. She could see this +avenue for a long distance; the perspective made by its broad roadway +was diversified, every now and then, by a clump of greenery standing in +the centre, with a fountain or a statue gleaming through the green. +Trees were everywhere; it was a city in a grove. She remembered her +first arrival off this coast, when she came from England,--Tybee Light, +and then the lovely river; now she was passing through the same city, +fleeing from--danger?--or was it from justice? Twilight deepened; she +left the window and sat down beside the shaded lamp; her hands were +folded upon her lap, her gaze was fixed unseeingly upon the carpet. +After ten minutes had passed, she became conscious of something, and +raised her eyes; Cicely was looking at her. Eve rose and went to her. +"Are we in Savannah?" Cicely asked. + +"Yes." + +Cicely continued to look at her. "If you really want me to go on, you +had better take me at once." + +"But you were too tired to go on--" + +"It is not a question of tired, I shall be tired all my life. But if you +don't want me to go back by the first boat to-morrow, you had better +take me away to-night." + +"By the midnight train," Eve answered. + +And at midnight they left Savannah. + +At Charleston they were obliged to wait; there had been a flood, and the +track was overflowed. + +Some purchases were necessary for their comfort; Eve did not dare to +leave Cicely with Jack, lest she should find them both gone on her +return; she therefore took them with her, saying to the negro coachman, +privately, "If that lady should tell you to return to the hotel or to +drive to the steamer when I am not with you, pay no attention to her; +she is ill, and not responsible for what she says." + +As she was coming out of a shop, a face she knew met her eyes--Judge +Abercrombie. He had come from Gary Hundred that morning, and was on his +way to Romney; he intended to take the evening boat. + +He recognized them; he hurried to the carriage door, astonished, +alarmed. Eve seemed cowed by his presence. It was Cicely who said, "Yes, +we are here, grandpa. Get in, and I will tell you why." + +But when the old man had placed himself opposite to her, when Eve had +taken her seat again and the carriage was rolling towards the hotel, +Cicely still remained mute. At last she leaned forward. "I can't tell +you," she said, putting her hand into his; "at least I can't tell you +now. Will you wait, dear? Do wait." Her voice, as she said this, was +like the voice of a little girl of ten. + +The old man, wondering, held her hand protectingly. He glanced at Eve. +But Eve's eyes were turned away. + +The drive was a short one. As they entered Cicely's room, Eve took Jack +in her arms and went out again into the hall, closing the door behind +her. + +The hall was long, with a window at each end; a breeze blew through it, +laden with the perfume of flowers. Jack clamored for a game; Eve raised +him to her shoulder, and went to the window at the west end; it +overlooked a garden crowded with blossoms; then she turned and walked to +the east end, Jack considering it a march, and playing that her shoulder +was his drum; the second window commanded a view of the burned walls of +the desolated town. Eight times she made the slow journey from the +flowers to the ruins, the ruins to the flowers. Then Cicely opened the +door. "You can come in now. Grandpa knows." + +Grandpa's face, in his new knowledge, was pitiful to see. He had +evidently been trying to remain calm, and he had succeeded so far as to +keep his features firm; but his cheeks, which ordinarily were tinted +with pink, had turned to a dead-looking yellow. "I should be greatly +obliged if you would come with me for a walk," he said to Eve; "I have +travelled down from Gary Hundred this morning, and, after being shut up +in the train, you know, one feels the need of fresh air." He rose, and +gave first one leg and then the other a little shake, with a pathetic +pretence of preparing for vigorous exercise. + +"I don't think I can go," Eve began. But a second glance at his +dead-looking face made her relent, or rather made her brace herself. She +rang the bell, and asked one of the chamber-maids to follow them with +Jack; once outside, she sent the girl forward. "I have taken Jack +because we cannot trust Cicely," she explained. "If she had him, she +might, in our absence, take him and start back to the island; but she +will not go without him." + +"Neither of them must go back," said the judge. He spoke mechanically. + +They went down the shaded street towards the Battery. "And there's +Sabrina, too, poor girl! How do we know what has happened to her!" Eve +hesitated. Then she said, slowly, "Cicely tells me that when these +attacks are on him, he is dangerous only to herself and Jack." + +"That makes him only the greater devil!" answered the judge. "What I +fear is that he is already on her track; he would get over the attack +soon--he is as strong as an ox--and if he should reach her,--have a +chance at her with his damned repentant whinings--We must get off +immediately! In fact, I don't understand why you are stopping here at +all," he added, with sudden anger. + +"We couldn't go on; the track is under water somewhere. And perhaps we +need not hurry so." She paused. "I suppose you know that Cicely will go +only to Paul Tennant," she added. "She refuses to go anywhere else." + +"Where the devil is the man?" + +"It's a place called Port aux Pins, on Lake Superior. I really think +that if we don't take her to him at once, she will leave us and get back +to Ferdie, in spite of all we can do." + +"If there's no train, we'll take a carriage, we'll drive," declared the +judge. "This is the first place he'll come to; we won't wait _here_!" + +"There'll be a train this evening; they tell me so at the hotel," Eve +answered. Then she waited a moment. "We shall have to stop on the way, +Cicely is so exhausted; I suppose we go to Pittsburgh, and then to +Cleveland to take the lake steamer; if you should write to Miss Sabrina +from here, the answer might meet us at one of those places." + +"Of course I shall write. At once." + +"No, don't write!" said Eve, grasping his arm suddenly. "Or at least +don't let her send any answer until the journey is ended. It's better +not to know--not to know!" + +"Not to know whether poor Sabrina is safe? Not to know whether that +brute is on our track? I can't imagine what you are thinking of; perhaps +you will kindly explain?" + +"It's only that my head aches. I don't know what I am saying!" + +"Yes, you must be overwrought," said the judge. He had been thinking +only of Cicely. "You protected my poor little girl, you brought her +away; it was a brave act," he said, admiringly. + +"It was for Jack, I wanted to save my brother's child. Surely that was +right?" Eve's voice, as she said this, broke into a sob. + +"They were in danger of their lives, then?" asked the grandfather, in a +low tone. "Cicely didn't tell me." + +"She did not know, she had fainted. A few minutes more, and I believe he +would--We should not have them now." + +"But you got the boat off in time." + +"But I got the boat off in time," Eve repeated, lethargically. + +They had now reached the Battery Park; they entered and sat down on one +of the benches; the negro girl played with Jack on the broad walk which +overlooks the water. The harbor, with Sumter in the distance, the two +rivers flowing down, one on each side of the beautiful city--beautiful +still, though desolated by war--made a scene full of loveliness. The +judge took off his hat, as if he needed more air. + +"You are ill," said Eve, in the same mechanical voice. + +"It's only that I cannot believe it even now--what Cicely told me. Why, +it is my own darling little grandchild, who has been treated so, who has +been beaten--struck to the floor! His strong hand has come down on _her_ +shoulder so that you could hear it!--_Cicely_, Eve; my little _Cicely_!" +His old eyes, small and dry, looked at Eve piteously. + +She put out her hand and took his in silence. + +"She has always been such a delicate little creature, that we never let +her have any care or trouble; we even spoke to her gently always, +Sabrina and I. For she was so delicate when she was a baby that they +thought she couldn't live; she had her bright eyes, even then, and she +was so pretty and winning; but they said she must soon follow her +mother. We were so glad when she began to grow stronger. But--have we +saved her for this?" + +"She is away from him now," Eve answered. + +"And there was her father--my boy Marmaduke; what would Duke have +said?--his baby--his little girl!" He rose and walked to and fro; for +the first time his gait was that of a feeble old man. + +"They can't know what happens to us here!--or else that they see some +way out of it that we do not see," said Eve, passionately. "Otherwise, +it would be too cruel." + +"Duke died when she was only two years old," the judge went on. +"'Father,' he said to me, just at the last, 'I leave you baby.' And this +is what I have brought her to!" + +"You had nothing to do with it, she married him of her own free will. +And she forgot everything, she forgot my brother very soon." + +"I don't know what she forgot, I don't care what she forgot," the old +man answered. He sat down on the bench again, and put his hands over his +face. He was crying--the slow, hard tears of age. + +At sunset they started. The negro chamber-maid, to whom Jack had taken a +fancy, went with them as nurse, and twenty shining black faces were at +the station to see her off. + +"_Good-bye_, Porley; take keer yersef." + +"Yere's luck, Porley; doan yer forgot us." + +"Step libely, Jonah; Porley's a-lookin' at yer." + +"Good-lye, Porley!" + +The train moved out. + + + + +XII. + + +A dock on the Cuyahoga River, at Cleveland. The high bows of a propeller +loomed up far above them; a wooden bridge, with hand-rails of rope, +extended from a square opening in its side to the place where they were +standing--the judge, bewildered by the deafening noise of the +letting-off of steam and by the hustling of the deck-hands who ran to +and fro putting on freight; little Jack, round-eyed with wonder, +surveying the scene from his nurse's arms; Cicely, listless, unhearing; +and Eve, with the same pale-cheeked self-control and the same devoted +attention to Cicely which had marked her manner through all their rapid +journey across the broad country from Charleston to Washington, from +Washington to Pittsburgh, from Pittsburgh to Cleveland. + +"I think we cross here," she said; "by this bridge." She herself went +first. The bridge ascended sharply; little slats of wood were nailed +across its planks in order to make the surface less slippery. The yellow +river, greasy with petroleum from the refineries higher up the stream, +heaved a little from the constant passing of other craft; this heaving +made the bridge unsteady, and Eve was obliged to help the nurse when she +crossed with Jack, and then to lead Cicely, and to give a hand to the +judge, who came last. + +"You are never dizzy," said the judge. + +"No, I am never dizzy," Eve answered, as though she were saying the +phrase over to herself as a warning. + +She led the way up a steep staircase to the cabin above. This was a long +narrow saloon, decked with tables each covered with a red cloth, whereon +stood, in white vases representing a hand grasping a cornucopia, formal +bouquets, composed principally of peonies and the foliage of asparagus. +Narrow doors, ornamented with gilding, formed a panelling on each side; +between the doors small stiff sofas of red velvet were attached by iron +clamps to the floor, which was covered with a brilliant carpet; above +each sofa, under the low ceiling, was a narrow grating. Women and a few +men sat here and there on the sofas; they looked at the new passengers +apathetically. Lawless children chased one another up and down the +narrow spaces between the sofas and the tables, forcing each person who +was seated to draw in his or her legs with lightning rapidity as they +passed; babies with candy, babies with cookies, babies with apples, +crawled and tottered about on the velvet carpet, and drew themselves up +by the legs of the tables, leaving sticky marks on the mahogany +surfaces, and generally ending by striking their heads against the top, +sitting down suddenly and breaking into a howl. Eve led the way to the +deck; she brought forward chairs, and they seated themselves. A +regularly repeated and deafening clash came from the regions below; the +deck-hands were bringing steel rails from a warehouse on the dock, and +adding them one by one to the pile already on board by the simple method +of throwing them upon it. After the little party had sat there for +fifteen minutes, Eve said, "It is--it is insupportable!" + +"You feel it because you have not slept. You haven't slept at all since +we started," said Cicely, mentioning the fact, but without evident +interest in it. + +"Yes I have," responded Eve, quickly. + +There came another tremendous clash. Eve visibly trembled; her cheeks +seemed to grow more wan, the line between her eyes deepened. + +"This noise must be stopped!" said the old planter, authoritatively. He +got up and went to the side. + +"_They_ won't stop," said Cicely. + +Eve sat still, the tips of the fingers of each of her hands pressed hard +into the palm, and bits of her inner cheek held tightly between her +teeth. At last the rails were all on board and the gangways hauled in; +the propeller moved slowly away from her dock, a row of loungers, with +upturned faces, watching her departure, and visibly envying the captain, +who called out orders loudly from the upper deck--orders which were +needed; for the river was crowded with craft of all kinds, and many +manoeuvres were necessary before the long steamer could turn herself +and reach the open lake. She passed out at last between two piers, down +which boys ran as fast as they could, racing with the engine to see +which should reach the end first. At last they were away, and the noises +ceased; there was only the regular throb of the machinery, the sound of +the water churned by the screw. The sun was setting; Eve looked at the +receding shores--the spires of Cleveland on the bluffs which rise from +the Cuyahoga, the mass of roofs extending to the east and the west, +bounded on the latter side by the pine-clad cliffs of Rocky River. After +the splendid flaming sunset, the lake grew suddenly dark; it looked as +vast and dusky as the ocean. Cicely sprang up. "I know I shall never +come back across all this water!--I know I never, never shall!" + +"Yes, you will, little girl," answered her grandfather, fondly. + +"I don't mind. But I can't stay here and think! They must be doing +something in there--all those people we saw in the cabin; I am going in +to see." She went within, and Eve followed her; the nurse carried Jack +after his mother. But the judge remained where he was; he sat with one +hand laid over the other on the top of his cane. He looked at the dark +lake; his feeling was, "What is to become of us?" + +Within, all was animation; the tables had been pushed together by a +troop of hurrying darkies in white aprons, and now the same troop were +bringing in small open dishes, some flat and some bowl-like, containing +an array of food which included everything from beefsteak to ice-cream. +The passengers occupying the sofas watched the proceedings; then, at the +sound of a tap on the gong, they rose and seated themselves on the round +stools which did duty as chairs. + +"Come," said Cicely, "let us go too." She seated herself; and again Eve +patiently followed her. Cicely tasted everything and ate nothing. Eve +neither tasted nor ate; she drank a glass of water. When the meal was +over she spoke to one of the waiters, and gave him a fee; ten minutes +later she carried out to the old man on the deck, with her own hands, a +tray containing freshly cooked food, toast and tea; she arranged these +on a bench under the hanging lamp (for the deck at the stern was +covered); then she drew up a chair. The judge had not stirred. + +"Won't you come?" said Eve, gently. "I have brought it for you." + +The judge rose, and, coming to the improvised table, sat down. He had +not thought that he could touch anything, but the hot tea roused him, +and before he knew it he was eating heartily. "Do you know, I--I believe +I was cold," he said, trying to laugh. "Yes--even this warm night!" + +"I think we are all cold," Eve answered; "we are all numbed. It will be +better when we get there--wherever it is." + +The judge, warmed and revived, no longer felt so dreary. "You are our +good angel," he said. And, with his old-fashioned courtesy, he bent his +head over her hand. + +But Eve snatched her hand away and fled; she fairly ran. He looked after +her in wonder. + +Within, the tables had again been cleared, and then piled upon top of +one another at one end of the saloon; in front of this pile stretched a +row of chairs. These seats were occupied by the orchestra, the same +negro waiters, with two violins and a number of banjoes and guitars. + + "Forward one; forward two-- + De engine keeps de time; + Leabe de lady in de centre, + Bal-unse in er line," + +sang the leader to the tune of "Nelly Bly," calling off the figures of +the quadrille in rhymes of his own invention. Three quadrilles had been +formed; two thin women danced with their bonnets on; a tall man in a +linen duster and a short man in spectacles bounded about without a +smile, taking careful steps; girls danced with each other, giggling +profusely; children danced with their mothers; and the belle of the +boat, a plump young woman with long curls, danced with two youths, +changing impartially after each figure, and throwing glances over her +shoulder meanwhile at two more who stood in the doorway admiring. The +throb of the engine could be felt through the motion of the twenty-four +dancers, through the clear tenor of the negro who sang. Outside was the +wide lake and the night. + +Sitting on one of the sofas, alone, was Cicely. She was looking at the +dancers intently, her lips slightly parted. Eve sat down quietly by her +side. + +"Oh, how you follow me!" said Cicely, moving away. + +Then suddenly she began to laugh. "See that man in the linen duster! He +takes such mincing little steps in his great prunella shoes. See him +smile! Oh! oh!" She pressed her handkerchief over her lips to stifle her +spasmodic laughter. But she could not stifle it. + +"Come," said Eve, putting her arm round her. Their state-room was near, +she half carried her in. Light came through the gilded grating above. +Cicely still laughed, lying in the lower berth; Eve undressed her; with +soothing touch she tried to calm her, to stop her wild glee. + +"He turned out his toes in those awful prunella shoes!" said Cicely, +breaking into another peal of mirth. + +"Hush, dear. Hush." + +"I wish you would go away. You always do and say the wrong thing," said +Cicely, suddenly. + +"Perhaps I do," answered Eve, humbly enough. + +Jack was asleep in the upper berth; she herself (as she would not leave +them) was to occupy an improvised couch on the floor. But first she went +out softly, closing the door behind her; she was going to look for her +other charge. The judge, however, had gone to bed, and Eve came back. +The dancing had ceased for the moment; a plump young negro was singing, +and accompanying himself on the guitar; his half-closed eyes gazed +sentimentally at the ceiling; through his thick lips came, in one of the +sweetest voices in the world, + + "No one to love, + None to cay-ress; + Roam-ing alone _through_ + This world's wilderness--" + +Eve stood with her hand on her door for an instant looking at him; then +she looked at the listening people. Suddenly it came over her: "Perhaps +it is all a dream! Perhaps I shall wake and find it one!" + +She went in. Cicely was in her lethargic state, her hands lying +motionless by her sides, her eyes closed. Eve uncoiled her own fair hair +and loosened her dress; then she lay down on her couch on the floor. + +But she could not sleep; with the first pink flush of dawn she was glad +to rise and go out on deck to cool her tired eyes in the fresh air. The +steamer was entering the Detroit River; deep and broad, its mighty +current flowed onward smoothly, brimming full between its low green +banks; the islands, decked in the fresh verdure of early summer, looked +indescribably lovely as the rising sun touched them with gold; the +lonely gazer wished that she might stop there, might live forever, hide +forever, in one of these green havens of rest. But the steamer did not +pause, and, laggingly, the interminable hours followed one another +through another day. They were now crossing Lake Huron, they were out of +sight of land; the purity of the cool blue water, ruffled by the breeze +into curls of foam, made a picture to refresh the weariest vision. But +Eve looked at it unseeingly, and Cicely did not look at all; the judge, +too, saw nothing--nothing but Cicely. There had been no letter at +Cleveland; for tidings they must still wait. Cicely had written a few +lines to Paul Tennant, announcing their arrival. But to Eve it seemed as +if they should never arrive, as if they should journey forever on this +phantom boat, journey till they died. + +At last Lake Huron was left behind; the steamer turned and went round +the foaming leap of the St. Mary's River, the Sault Sainte Marie (called +by lake-country people the Soo), and entered Lake Superior. Another +broad expanse of water like a sea. At last, on the fifth day, Port aux +Pins was in sight, a spot of white amid the pines. They were all +assembled at the bow--Cicely, Eve, the judge, and Porley with little +Jack; as the pier came into view with the waiting group of people at its +end, no one spoke. Nearer and nearer, now they could distinguish +figures; nearer and nearer, now they could see faces. Cicely knew which +was Paul immediately, though she had never seen him. The judge took the +knowledge from her eyes. Now people began to call to friends on the +pier. Now the pier itself touched the steamer's side, the gangways were +put out, and persons were crossing; in another minute a tall man had +joined them, and, bending his head, had kissed Cicely. + +"Mr. Tennant?" the judge had asked. + +"Yes," answered Paul Tennant. He was looking at Cicely, trying to +control a sudden emotion that had surprised him,--a man not given to +emotions; he turned away for a moment, patting Jack's head. "She is so +young!" he murmured to the judge. + +"Paul," said Cicely, coming to them, "you have heard from Ferdie? There +are letters?" + +"No, I haven't heard lately. There are two letters for you, but they are +not in his handwriting." + +"Are they here?" + +Paul's eyes turned rapidly, first to the judge, then to Eve. Eve's eyes +answered him. + +"At the house," he said. + +"Is it far? Let us go at once." And Cicely turned towards the stairs. + +"It's at the other end of the town; I've a wagon waiting." + +Cicely was already descending. She crossed the gangway with rapid step; +she would not wait for their meagre luggage. "Take me there at once, +please; the wagon can come back for the others." + +"I must go too," said Eve. The tone of her voice was beseeching. + +"Get in, then," said Cicely. "Paul, take us quickly, won't you?" In her +haste she seized the reins and thrust them into his hands. She would not +sit down until he had taken his seat. + +"I will send the wagon back immediately," Paul said to the judge. Then, +seeing the lost look of the old planter, he called out: "Hollis! Here a +moment." + +A thin man with gray hair detached himself from the group of loungers on +the pier, and hurried towards them. + +"Judge Abercrombie, this is Mr. Christopher Hollis," said Paul; "he +lives here, and he is a great friend of mine. Hollis, will you help +about the baggage? I'm coming back immediately." + +They drove away, but not before Cicely had asked Paul to let her sit +beside him; Eve was left alone on the back seat. + +"I wanted to sit beside you, Paul; but I'm afraid I can't talk," Cicely +said. She put the back of her hand under her chin, as if to support her +head; she looked about vaguely--at the street, the passing people. + +"That's right, don't say anything; I like it better. You must be +terribly tired," answered Paul, reassuringly. + +They stopped before a white cottage. Upon entering, Paul gave an +inquiring glance at Eve; then he left the room, and came back with two +letters. + +Cicely tore them open. + +Eve drew nearer. + +In another instant Cicely gave a cry which rang through the house. "He +is hurt! Some one has shot him--has shot him!" Clutching the pages, she +swayed forward, but Paul caught her. He laid her upon a couch; with his +large, strong hands he placed a cushion under her head. + +Eve watched him. She did not help him. Then she came to the sofa. "Is he +dead, Cicely?" she asked, abruptly. + +Cicely looked at her. "You want him to be!" Springing up suddenly, like +a little tigress, still clutching her letters, she struck Eve with her +left hand. Her gloved palm was soft, but, as she had exerted all her +strength in the blow, the mark across Eve's cheek was red. + +"Never mind," said Eve, hastily, as Paul started forward; "I am glad she +did it." Her eyes were bright; the red had come into her other cheek; in +spite of the mark of the blow, her face looked brilliant. + +Cicely had fallen back; and this time she had lost consciousness. + +"You can leave her to me now," Eve went on. "Of course what she said +last means that he is not dead!" she added, with a long breath. + +"Dead?" said Paul Tennant. "Poor Ferdie dead? Never!" + +Eve had knelt down; she was chafing Cicely's temples. "Then you care for +him very much?" she asked, looking at him for a moment over her +shoulder. + +"I care for him more than for anything else in the world," said the +brother, shortly. + + + + +XIII. + + +It was the afternoon of the same day. + +"I shall go, grandpa," said Cicely; "I shall go to-night. There's a +boat, somebody said." + +"But, my dear child, listen to reason; Sabrina does not say that he is +in danger." + +"And she does not say that he is out of it." + +The judge took up the letter again, and, putting on his glasses, he read +aloud, with a frown of attention: "'For the first two days Dr. Daniels +came over twice a day'"-- + +"You see?--twice a day," said Cicely. + +--"'But as he is beginning to feel his age, the crossing so often in the +row-boat tired him; so now he sends us his partner, Dr. Knox, a new man +here, and a very intelligent person, I should judge. Dr. Knox comes over +every afternoon and spends the night'"-- + +"You see?--spends the night," said Cicely. + +--"'Going back early the following morning. He has brought us a nurse, +an excellent and skilful young man, and now we can have the satisfaction +of feeling that our poor Ferdie has every possible attention. As I +write, the fever is going down, and the nurse tells me that by +to-morrow, or day after to-morrow, he will probably be able to speak to +us, to talk.'" + +"I don't know exactly how many days it will take me to get there," said +Cicely, beginning to count upon her fingers. "Four days--or is it +three?--to Cleveland, where I take the train; then how many hours from +there to Washington? You will have to make it out for me, grandpa; or +rather Paul will; Paul knows everything." + +"My poor little girl, you haven't had any rest; even now you have only +just come out of a fainting-fit. Sabrina will write every day; wait at +least until her next letter comes to-morrow morning." + +"You are all so strange! Wouldn't you wish me to see him if he were +dying?" Cicely demanded, her voice growing hard. + +"Of course, of course," replied the old man, hastily. "But there is no +mention of dying, Sabrina says nothing that looks like it; Daniels, our +old friend--why, Daniels would cross twenty times a day if he thought +there was danger." + +"I can't argue, grandpa. But I shall go; I shall go to-night," Cicely +responded. + +She was seated on a sofa in Paul Tennant's parlor, a large room, +furnished with what the furniture dealer of Port aux Pins called a +"drawing-room set." The sofa of this set was of the pattern named +tete-a-tete, very hard and slippery, upholstered in hideous green +damask. Cicely was sitting on the edge of this unreposeful couch, her +feet close together on a footstool, her arms tight to her sides and +folded from the elbows in a horizontal position across the front of her +waist. She looked very rigid and very small. + +"But supposing, when you get there, that you find him up,--well?" +suggested the judge. + +"Shouldn't I be glad?" answered Cicely, defiantly. "What questions you +ask!" + +"But _we_ couldn't be glad. Can't you think a little of us?--you are all +we have left now." + +"Aunt Sabrina doesn't feel as you do--if you mean Aunt Sabrina; she +would be delighted to have me come back. _She_ likes Ferdie; it is only +you who are so hard about him." + +"Sabrina doesn't know. But supposing it were only I, is my wish nothing +to you?" And the old man put out his hand in appeal. + +"No," answered Cicely, inflexibly. "I am sorry, grandpa; but for the +moment it isn't, nothing is anything to me now but Ferdie. And what is +it that Aunt Sabrina doesn't know, pray? There's nothing to know; Ferdie +had one of his attacks--he has had them before--and I came away with +Jack; that is all. Eve has exaggerated everything. I told her I would +come here, come to Paul, because Ferdie likes Paul; but I never intended +to stay forever, and now that Ferdie is ill, do you suppose that I will +wait one moment longer than I must? Of course not." + +The door opened and Eve came in. Cicely glanced at her; then she turned +her eyes away, looking indifferently at the whitewashed wall. + +"She is going to take the steamer back to-night," said the judge, +helplessly. + +"Oh no, Cicely; surely not to-night," Eve began. In spite of the +fatigues of the journey, Eve had been a changed creature since morning; +there was in her eyes an expression of deep happiness, which was almost +exaltation. + +"There is no use in explaining anything to Eve, and I shall not try," +replied Cicely. She unfolded her arms and rose, still standing, a rigid +little figure, close to the sofa. "I love my husband, and I shall go to +him; what Eve says is of no consequence, because she knows nothing about +such things; but I suppose _you_ cared for grandma once, didn't you, +grandpa, when she was young? and if she had been shot, wouldn't you have +gone to her?" + +"Cicely, you are cruel," said Eve. + +"When grandpa thinks so, it will be time enough for me to trouble +myself. But grandpa doesn't think so." + +"No, no," said the old man; "never." And for the moment he and his +grandchild made common cause against the intruder. + +Eve felt this, she stood looking at them in silence. Then she said, "And +Jack?" + +"I shall take him with me, of course. That reminds me that I must speak +to Porley about his frocks; Porley is so stupid." And Cicely turned +towards the door. + +Eve followed her. "Another long journey so soon will be bad for Jack." + +"There you go again! But I shall not leave him with you, no matter what +you say; useless, your constant asking." She opened the door. On the +threshold she met Paul Tennant coming in. + +He took her hand and led her back. "I was looking for you; I have found +a little bed for Jack; but I don't know that it will do." + +"You are very good, Paul, but Jack will not need it. I am going away +to-night; I have only just learned that there is a boat." + +"We don't want to hear any talk of boats," Paul answered. He drew her +towards the sofa and placed her upon it. "Sit down; you look so tired!" + +"I'm not tired; at least I do not feel it. And I have a great deal to +do, Paul; I must see about Jack's frocks." + +"Jack's frocks can wait. There's to be no journey to-night." + +"Yes, there is," said Cicely, with a mutinous little smile. Her glance +turned towards her grandfather and Eve; then it came back to Paul, who +was standing before her. "None of you shall keep me," she announced. + +"You will obey your grandfather, won't you?" Paul began, seriously. + +The judge got up, rubbing his hands round each other. + +"No," Cicely answered; "not about this. Grandpa knows it; we have +already talked it over." + +"You are wrong; you ought not to be willing to make him so unhappy." + +"Never mind about that, Tennant; I'll see to that," said the judge. He +spoke in a thin old voice which sounded far away. + +Paul looked at him, surprised. Then his glance turned towards Eve. "Miss +Bruce too; I am sure she does not approve of your going?" + +"Oh, if I should wait for _Eve's_ approval!" said Cicely. "Eve doesn't +approve of anything in the world except that she should have Jack, and +take him away with her, Heaven knows where. She hasn't any feelings as +other people have; she has never cared for anybody excepting herself, +and her brother, and I dare say that when she had him she tried to rule +him, as she tries now to rule me and every one. She is jealous about +him, and that makes her hate Ferdie: perhaps you don't know that she +hates Ferdie? She does; she was sorry this morning, absolutely sorry, +when she heard that, though he was dreadfully hurt, he wasn't dead." + +"Oh, Cicely!" said Eve. She turned away and walked towards one of the +windows, her face covered by her hands. + +Paul's eyes followed her. Then they came back to Cicely. "Very well, +then, since it appears to be left to me, I must tell you plainly that +you cannot go to-night; we shall not allow it." + +"We!" ejaculated Cicely. "Who are we?" + +"I, then, if you like--I alone." + +"What can you do? I am free; no one has any authority over me except +Ferdie." Paul did not reply. "You will scarcely attempt to keep me by +force, I suppose?" she went on. + +"If necessary, yes. But it will not be necessary." + +"Grandpa would never permit it. Grandpa?" She summoned him to her side +with an imperious gesture. + +The old man came towards her a step or two. Then he left the room +hurriedly. + +Cicely watched him go, with startled eyes. But she recovered herself, +and looked at Paul undaunted. + +"Why do you treat me so, Cicely?" he said. "I care about Ferdie as much +as you do; I have always cared about him,--hasn't he ever told you? +There never were two boys such chums; and although, since he has grown +up, he has had others, I have never had any one but him; I haven't +wanted any one. Is it likely, then, that I should try to set you +against him?--that I should turn against him myself?--I ask you that." + +"It is setting me against him not to let me go to him. How do we know +that he is not dying?" Her voice was quiet and hard. + +"We know because the letters do not speak of danger; on the contrary, +they tell us that the ball has been extracted, and that the fever is +going down. He will get well. And then some measures must be taken +before you can go back to him; otherwise it would not be safe." + +"And do I care about safe? I should like to die if _he_ did!" cried +Cicely, passionately. She looked like a hunted creature at bay. + +"And your child; what is your idea about him?" + +"That's it; take up Eve's cry--do! You know I will never give up baby, +and so you both say that." She sank down on the sofa, her head on her +arms, her face hidden. + +Her little figure lying there looked so desolate that Eve hurried +forward from the window. Then she stopped, she felt that Cicely hated +her. + +"I say what I think will influence you," Paul was answering. "Ferdie has +already thrown the boy about once; he may do it again. Of course at such +times he is not responsible; but these times are increasing, and he must +be brought up short; he must be brought to his senses." He went to the +sofa, sat down beside her, and lifted her in his arms. "My poor little +sister, do trust me. Ferdie does; he wrote to me himself about that +dreadful time, that first time when he hurt you; isn't that a proof? I +will show you the letter if you like." + +"I don't want to see it. Ferdie and I never speak of those things; +there has never been an allusion to them between us," replied Cicely, +proudly. + +"I can understand that. You are his wife, and I am only his big brother, +to whom he has always told everything." He placed her beside him on the +sofa, with his arm still round her. "Didn't you know that we still tell +each other everything,--have all in common? I have been the slow member +of the firm, as one may say, and so I've stayed along here; but I have +always known what Ferdie was about, and have been interested in his +schemes as much as he was." + +"Yes, he told me that you gave him the money for South America," said +Cicely, doubtfully. + +"That South American investment was his own idea, and he deserves all +the credit of it; he will make it a success yet. See here, Cicely: at +the first intimation that he is worse, I should go down there myself as +fast as boat and train could carry me; I've telegraphed to that Dr. Knox +to keep me informed exactly, and, if there should be any real danger, I +will take you to him instantly. But I feel certain that he will recover. +And then we must cure him in another way. The trouble with Ferdie is +that he is sure that he can stop at any moment, and, being so sure, he +has never really tried. The thing has been on him almost from a boy, he +inherits it from his father. But he has such a will, he is so +brilliant--" + +"Oh, yes! isn't he?" said Cicely, breathlessly. + +--"That he has never considered himself in danger, in spite of these +lapses. Now there is where we must get hold of him--we must open his +eyes; and that is going to be the hard point, the hard work, in which, +first of all, _you_ must help. But once he is convinced, once the thing +is done, then, Cicely, then"-- + +"Yes, then?" + +--"He will be about as perfect a fellow as the world holds, I think," +said Paul, with quiet enthusiasm. He stooped and kissed her cheek. "I +want you to believe that I love him," he added, simply. + +He got up, smiling down upon her,--"Now will you be a good girl?" he +said, as though she were a child. + +"I will wait until to-morrow," Cicely answered, after a moment's +hesitation. + +"Come, that's a concession," said Paul, applaudingly. "And now won't you +do something else that will please me very much?--won't you go straight +to bed?" + +"A small thing to please you with," Cicely answered, without a smile; "I +will go if you wish. I should like to have you know, Paul, that I came +to you of my own choice," she went on; "I came to you when I would not +go anywhere else; Eve will tell you so." + +"Yes," assented Eve from her place by the window. + +"Well, I'm glad you had some confidence," Paul responded; "I must try to +give you more. And now who will--who will see to you? Does that +wool-headed girl of yours know anything?" + +He looked so anxious as he said this that Cicely broke into a faint +laugh. "I haven't lost my mind; I can see to myself." + +"But I thought you Southerners-- However, Miss Bruce will help you." He +looked at Eve. + +"I am afraid Cicely is tired of me," Eve answered, coming forward. "All +the same, I know how to take care of her." + +"Yes, she took care of me all the way here," remarked Cicely, looking at +Eve coldly. "She needs to be taken care of herself," she went on, in a +dispassionate voice; "she has hardly closed her eyes since we started." + +"I feel perfectly well," Eve answered, the color rushing to her face in +a brilliant flush. + +"I don't think we need borrow any trouble about Miss Bruce, she looks +the image of health," observed Paul (but not as though he admired the +image). "I am afraid your bedrooms are not very large," he went on, +again perturbed. "There are two, side by side." + +"Cicely shall have one to herself; Jack and I will take the other," said +Eve. + +"Where is Jack?" demanded Cicely, suddenly. "What have you done with +him, Eve?" + +Paul opened the door. "Polly!" he cried, in a voice that could have been +heard from garret to cellar. Porley, amazed by the sound, came running +in, with Jack in her arms. Paul looked at her dubiously, shook his head, +and went out. + +Cicely took her child, and began to play all his games with him +feverishly, one after the other. + +Jack was delighted; he played with all his little heart. + + + + +XIV. + + +Four days had passed slowly by. "What do you think, judge, of this +theory about the shooting,--the one they believe at Romney?" said Paul, +on the fifth morning. + +"It's probable enough. Niggers are constitutionally timid, and they +always have pistols nowadays; these two boys, it seems, had come over +from the mainland to hide; they had escaped from a lock-up, got a boat +somewhere and crossed; that much is known. Your brother, perhaps, went +wandering about the island; if he came upon them suddenly, with that +knife in his hand, like as not they fired." + +"Ferdie was found lying very near the point where _your_ boat was kept." + +"And the niggers might have been hidden just there. But I don't think we +can tell exactly where our boat was; Cicely doesn't remember--I have +asked her." + +"Miss Bruce may have clearer ideas." + +"No; Eve seems to have a greater confusion about it than Cicely even; +she cannot speak of it clearly at all." + +"Yes, I have noticed that," said Paul. + +"I suppose it is because, at the last, she had it all to do; she is a +brave woman." + +Paul was silent. + +"Don't you think so?" said the judge. + +"I wasn't there. I don't know what she did." + +"You're all alike, you young men; she's too much for you," said the +judge, with a chuckle. + +"Why too much? She seems to me very glum and shy. When you say that we +are all alike, do you mean that Ferdie didn't admire her, either? Yet +Ferdie is liberal in his tastes," said the elder brother, smiling. + +But the judge did not want to talk about Ferdie. "So you find her shy? +She did not strike us so at Romney. Quiet enough--yes. But very +decidedly liking to have her own way." + +Paul dismissed the subject. "I suppose those two scamps, who shot him, +got safely away?" + +"Yes, they were sure to have run off on the instant; they had the boat +they came over in, and before daylight they were miles to the southward +probably; I dare say they made for one of the swamps. In the old days we +could have tracked them; but it's not so easy now. And even if we got +them we couldn't string them up." + +"You wouldn't hang them?" + +"By all the gods, I would!" said the planter, bringing his fist down +upon the table with a force that belonged to his youth. + +"Ferdie may have attacked them first, you know." + +"What difference does that make? Damnation, sir! are they to be allowed +to fire upon their masters?" + +"They did not fire very well, these two; according to Dr. Knox, the +wound is not serious; his despatch this morning says that Ferdie is +coming on admirably." + +"Yes, I suppose he is," said the old man, relapsing into gloom. + +"As soon as he is up and about, I am going down there," Paul went on; "I +must see him and have a serious talk. Some new measures must be taken. I +don't think it will be difficult when I have once made him see his +danger; he is so extraordinarily intelligent." + +"I wish he were dull, then,--dull as an owl!" said the judge, with a +long sigh. + +"Yes, regarded simply as husbands, I dare say the dull may be safer," +responded Paul. "But you must excuse me if I cannot look upon Ferdie +merely as the husband of your daughter; I expect great things of him +yet." + +"Granddaughter. If her father had lived--my boy Duke--it would have been +another story; Duke wouldn't have been a broken old man like me." And +the judge leaned his head upon his hand. + +"I beg your pardon, sir; don't mind my roughness. It's only that I'm +fond of Ferdie, and proud of him; he has but that one fault. But I +appreciate how you feel about Cicely; we must work together for them +both." + +Paul had risen, and was standing before him with outstretched hand. +"Thank you; you mean well," said the judge. He had let his hand be +taken, but he did not look up. He felt that he could never really like +this man--never. + +"I am to understand, then, that you approve of my plan?" Paul went on, +after a short silence. "Cicely to stay here for the present--the house, +I hope, is fairly comfortable--and then, when Ferdie is better, I to go +down there and see what I can do; I have every hope of doing a great +deal! Oh, yes, there's one more thing; _you_ needn't feel obliged to +stay here any longer than you want to, you know; I can see to Cicely. +Apparently, too, Miss Bruce has no intention of leaving her." + +"I shall stay, sir--I shall stay." + +"On my own account, I hope you will; I only meant that you needn't feel +that you must; I thought perhaps there was something that called you +home." + +"Calls me home? Do you suppose we do anything down there nowadays with +the whole coast ruined? As for the house, Sabrina is there, and women +like illness; they absolutely dote on medicines, and doctors, and +ghastly talking in whispers." + +"Very well; I only hope you won't find it dull, that's all. The mine +isn't bad; you might come out there occasionally. And the steamers stop +two or three times a day. There's a good deal going on in the town, too; +building's lively." + +"I am much obliged to you." + +"But you don't care for liveliness," pursued Paul, with a smile. "I am +afraid there isn't much else. I haven't many books, but Kit Hollis has; +he is the man for you. Queer; never can decide anything; always beating +round the bush; still, in his way, tremendously well read and clever." + +"He appears to be a kind of dry-nurse to you," said the judge, rising. + +Paul laughed, showing his white teeth. He was very good-natured, his +guest had already discovered that. + +The judge was glad that their conversation had come to an end. He could +no longer endure dwelling upon sorrow. Trouble was not over for them by +any means; their road looked long and dark before them. But for the +moment Cicely and her child were safe under this roof; let them enjoy +that and have a respite. As for himself, he could--well, he could enjoy +the view. + +The view consisted of the broad lake in front, and the deep forest which +stretched unbroken towards the east and the west. The water of the lake +was fresh, the great forest was primeval; this made the effect very +unlike that of the narrow salt-water sounds, and the chain of islands, +large and small, with their gardens and old fields. The South had +forgotten her beginnings; but here one could see what all the new world +had once been, here one could see traces of the first struggle for human +existence with the inert forces of nature. With other forces, too, for +Indians still lived here. They were few in number, harmless; but they +carried the mind back to the time of sudden alarms and the musket laid +ready to the hand; the days of the block-house and the guarded well, the +high stockade. The old planter as he walked about did not think of these +things. The rough forest was fit only for rough-living pioneers; the +Indians were but another species of nigger; the virgin air was thin and +raw,--he preferred something more thick, more civilized; the great +fresh-water sea was abominably tame, no one could possibly admire it; +Port aux Pins itself was simply hideous; it was a place composed +entirely of beginnings and mud, talk and ambition, the sort of place +which the Yankees produced wherever they went, and which they loved; +that in itself described it; how could a Southern gentleman like what +they loved? + +And Port aux Pins was ugly. Its outlying quarters were still in the +freshly plucked state, deplumed, scarred, with roadways half laid out, +with shanties and wandering pigs, discarded tin cans and other refuse, +and everywhere stumps, stumps. Within the town there were one or two +streets where stood smart wooden houses with Mansard-roofs. But these +were elbowed by others much less smart, and they were hustled by the +scaffolding of the new mansions which were rising on all sides, and, +with republican freedom, taking whatever room they found convenient +during the process. Even those abodes which were completed as to their +exteriors had a look of not being fully furnished, a blank, wide-eyed, +unwinking expression across their facades which told of bare floors and +echoing spaces within. Always they had temporary fences. Often paths of +movable planks led up to the entrance. Day after day a building of some +sort was voyaging through Port aux Pins streets by means of a rope and +windlass, a horse, and men with boards; when it rained, the house +stopped and remained where it was, waiting for the mud to dry; meanwhile +the roadway was blocked. But nobody minded that. All these things, the +all-pervading beginnings, the jokes and slang, the smell of paint, and +always the breathless constant hurry, were hateful to the old Georgian. +It might have been said, perhaps, that between houses and a society +uncomfortable from age, falling to pieces from want of repairs, and +houses and a society uncomfortable from youth, unfurnished, and +encumbered with scaffolding, there was not much to choose. But the judge +did not think so; to his mind there was a great deal to choose. + +As the days passed, Christopher Hollis became more and more his +companion; the judge grew into the habit of expecting to see his high +head, topped with a silk hat, put stealthily through the crevice of the +half-open door of Paul's dining-room (Hollis never opened a door widely; +whether coming in or going out, he always squeezed himself through), +with the query, "Hello! What's up?" There was never anything up; but the +judge, sitting there forlornly, with no companion but the local +newspaper (which he loathed), was glad to welcome his queer guest. +Generally they went out together; Port aux Pins people grew accustomed +to seeing them walking down to the end first of one pier, then of the +other, strolling among the stumps in the suburbs, or sitting on the pile +of planks which adorned one corner of the Public Square, the +long-legged, loose-jointed Kit an amusing contrast to the small, precise +figure by his side. + +"I say, he's pretty hard up for entertainment, that old gentleman of +yours," announced Hollis one day, peering in through the crevice of the +door of Paul Tennant's office in the town. + +"I depended on you to entertain him," answered Paul without lifting his +head, which was bent over a ledger. + +"Well, I've taken him all over the place, I've pretty nearly trotted his +legs off," Hollis responded, edging farther in, the door scraping the +buttons of his waistcoat as he did so. "And I've shot off all my Latin +at him too--all I can remember. I read up on purpose." + +"Is he such a scholar, then?" + +"No, he ain't. But it does him good to hear a little Horace in such an +early-in-the-morning, ten-minutes-ago place as this. See here, Paul; if +you keep him on here long he won't stand it--he'll mizzle out. He'll +simply die of Potterpins." + +"I'm not keeping him. He stays of his own accord." + +"I don't believe it. But, I say, ain't he a regular old despot though! +You ought to hear him hold forth sometimes." + +"_I_ don't want to hear him." + +"Well, I guess he don't talk that way to you, on the whole. Not much," +said Hollis, jocularly. + +And Paul Tennant did not look like a man who would be a comfortable +companion for persons of the aggressive temperament. He was tall and +broad-shouldered; not graceful like Ferdie, but powerful. His neck was +rather short; the lower part of his face was strong and firm. His +features were good; his eyes, keen, gray in hue. His hair was yellow and +thick, and he had a moustache and short beard of the same yellow hue. No +one would have called him handsome exactly. There was something of the +Scandinavian in his appearance; nothing of the German. His manner, +compared with Ferdie's quick, light brilliancy, was quiet, his speech +slow. + +"Have you been thinking about that proposition--that sale?" Hollis went +on. + +"Yes." + +"What are you going to do?" + +"It's done. I've declined." + +"What! not already? That's sudden, ain't it?" + +Paul did not answer; he was adding figures. + +"Have you been over the reasons?--weighed 'em?" + +"Oh, I leave the reasons to you," said Paul, turning a page. + +Hollis gave his almost silent laugh. But he gave it uneasily. +"Positively declined? Letter gone?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh; well!" He waited a moment; then, as Paul did not speak, he opened +the door and edged himself out without a sound. + +Ten minutes later his head reappeared with the same stealth. "Oh, I +thought I'd just tell you--perhaps you don't know--the mail doesn't go +out to-day until five o'clock: you can get that letter back if you +like." + +"I don't want it back." + +"Oh; well." He was gone again. + +Outside in the street he saw the judge wandering by, and stopped him. +"That there son-in-law of yours--" he began. + +"Son-in-law?" inquired the judge, stiffly. + +"Whatever pleases you; step-sister." + +"Mr. Tennant is the half-brother of the husband of my granddaughter." + +"'T any rate, that man in there, that Paul, he's so tremendously rash +there's no counting on him; if there's anything to do he goes and does +it right spang off without a why or a wherefore. He absolutely seems to +have no reasons!--not a rease!" + +"I cannot agree with you. To me Mr. Tennant seems to have a great many." + +"But you haven't heard about this. Come along out to the Park for a +walk, and I'll tell you." + +He moved on. But the judge did not accompany him. A hurrying mulatto, a +waiter from one of the steamers, had jostled him off the narrow plank +sidewalk; at the same moment a buggy which was passing, driven at a +reckless speed, spattered him with mud from shoulder to shoe. + +"Never mind, come on; it'll dry while you're walking," suggested Hollis +from the corner where he was waiting. + +The judge stepped back to the planks; he surveyed his befouled person; +then he brought out a resounding expletive--half a dozen of them. + +"Do it again--if it'll ease you off," called Kit, grinning. "When you're +blessing Potterpins, I'm with you every time." + +The judge rapped the planks with his cane. "Go on, sir! go on!" he said, +violently. + +Hollis went loafing on. And presently the judge caught up with him, and +trotted beside him in silence. + +"Well, that Paul now, as I was telling you, I don't know what to make of +him," said Hollis, returning to his topic. "I think I know him, and +then, suddenly he stumps me. Once he has made up his mind to +anything--and it does not take long--off he goes and _does_ it, I tell +you! He _does_ it." + +"I don't know what he _does_; his conversation has a good deal of the +sledge-hammer about it," remarked the judge. + +"So it has," responded Hollis, delighted with the comparison; he was so +delighted that he stopped and slapped his thigh. "So it has, by +George!--convincing and knock-you-down." The judge walked on. He had +intended no compliment. "To-day, now, that fellow has gone and sent off +a letter that he ought to have taken six months to think over," Hollis +continued. "Told you about his Clay County iron?" + +"No." + +"Well, he was down there on business--in Clay County. It was several +years ago. He had to go across the country, and the roads were +awful--full of slew-holes. At last, tired of being joggled to pieces, he +got out and walked along the fields, leaving the horse to bring the +buggy through the mud as well as he could. By-and-by he saw a stone that +didn't look quite like the others, and he gave it a kick. Still it +didn't look quite like, so he picked it up. The long and short of it was +that it turned out to be hematite iron, and off he went to the +county-seat and entered as much of the land as he could afford to buy. +He hasn't any capital, so he has never been able to work it himself; all +his savings he has invested in something or other in South America. But +the other day he had a tip-top offer from a company; they wanted to buy +the whole thing in a lump. And _that's_ the chance he has refused this +identical morning!" The judge did not reply. "More iron may be +discovered near by, you know", Hollis went on, warningly, his forefinger +out. His companion still remained silent. "He may never have half so +good an offer in his whole life again!" + +They had now reached the Park, a dreary enclosure where small evergreens +had been set out here and there, together with rock-work, and a fountain +which did not play. The magnificent forest trees which had once covered +the spot had all been felled; infant elms, swathed in rags and tied to +whitewashed stakes, were expected to give shade in fifteen or twenty +years. There were no benches; Hollis seated himself on the top of a +rail-fence which bordered the slight descent to the beach of the lake; +the heels of his boots, caught on a rail below, propped him, and sent +his knees forward at an acute angle. + +"There were all sorts of side issues and possibilities which that fellow +ought to have considered," he pursued, ruminatively, his mind still on +Paul's refusal. "There were other things that might have come of it. It +was an A number one chance for a fortune." The judge did not answer. +"For a fortune," repeated Hollis, dreamily, gazing down at him from his +perch. No reply. "A _for_-chun!" + +"Da-a-a-m your fortune!" said the judge, at the end of his patience, +bringing out the first word with a long emphasis, like a low growl from +a bull-dog. + +Hollis stared. Then he gave his silent laugh, and, stretching down one +long arm, he laid it on the old man's shoulder soothingly. "There, now; +we _are_ awful Yankees up here, all of us, I'm afraid; forever thinking +of bargains. Fact is, we ain't high-minded; you _can't_ be, if you are +forever eating salt pork." The judge had pulled himself from the other's +touch in an instant. But Hollis remained unconscious of any offence. + + _"'At the battle of the Nile I was there all the while;_ + _I was there all the while at the battle of the Nile.'"_ + +he chanted. + + _"'At the bat--'_ + +"Hello, isn't that Miss Bruce coming down the beach? Yes, sure-ly; I +know her by the way she carries her head." Detaching his boot-heels from +the rail, he sprang down, touching the ground with his long legs wide +apart; then, giving his waistcoat a pull over the flatness below it, he +looked inquiringly at the judge. + +But that gentleman ignored the inquiry. "It is time to return, I +reckon," he remarked, leading the way inflexibly towards the distant +gate and the road. + +Hollis followed him with disappointed tread. "She won't think us very +polite, skooting off in this fashion," he hazarded. + +The judge vouchsafed him no reply. It was one thing for this +backwoodsman to go about with him; it was another to aspire to an +acquaintance with the ladies of his family. Poor Hollis aspired to +nothing; he was the most modest of men; all the same it would never have +occurred to him that he was not on an equality with everybody. They +returned to Port aux Pins by the road. + +The beach was in sight all the way on the left; Eve's figure in +three-quarter length was visible whenever Hollis turned his head in that +direction, which was often. She gained on them. Then she passed them. + +"She's a tip-top walker, isn't she? I see her coming in almost every day +from 'way out somewhere--she doesn't mind how far. Our ladies here don't +walk much; they don't seem to find it interesting. But Miss Bruce, +now--she says the woods are beautiful. Can't say I have found 'em so +myself." + +"Have you had any new cases lately?" inquired the judge, coldly. + +"Did that Paul tell you I was a lawyer? Was once, but have given up +practising. I've got an Auction and Commission store now; never took you +there because business hasn't been flourishing; sometimes for days +together there's been nothing but the skeleton." The judge looked at +him. "I don't mean myself! Say, now, did you really think I meant +myself?" And he laughed without a sound. "No, this is a real one; it was +left with me over a year ago to be sold on commission--medical students, +or a college, you know. Man never came back--perhaps he's a skeleton +himself in the lake somewhere--so there it hangs still; first-class, and +in elegant condition. To-day there are six bonnets to keep it company; +so we're full." + +They were now entering the town. Presently, at a corner, they came +suddenly upon Eve; she was waiting for them. "I saw you walking in from +the Park, so I came across to join you," she said. + +Hollis showed his satisfaction by a broad smile; he did not raise his +hat, but, extracting one of his hands from the depths of his trousers +pocket, he offered it frankly. "You don't mind a longish walk, do you? +You look splendid." + +"We need not take you further, Mr. Hollis," said the judge. "Your time +must be valuable to you." + +"Not a bit; there's no demand to-day for the bonnets--unless the +skeleton wants to wear 'em." + +"Is it an exhibition?" asked Eve, non-comprehendingly. + +"It's my store--Auction and Commission. Not crowded. It's round the next +corner; want to go in?" And he produced a key and dangled it at Eve +invitingly. + +"By all means," said Eve. + +It was evident that she liked to be with him. The judge had perceived +this before now. + +Hollis unlocked a door, or rather two doors, for the place had been +originally a wagon shop. A portion of the space within was floored, and +here, between the two windows, the long white skeleton was suspended, +moving its legs a little in the sudden draught. + +"Here are the bonnets," said Hollis. "They may have to go out to the +mines. You see, it's part of a bankrupt stock. Not but what they ain't +first-class;--remarkably so." He went to a table where stood six +bandboxes in a row; opening one of them, he took out a bonnet, and, +freeing it from its wrappings, held it anxiously towards Eve, perched on +one of his fingers. + +"Are you trying to make Miss Bruce buy that old rubbish?" said a voice +at the door. It was Paul Tennant's voice. + +"Old?" said Hollis, seriously. "Why, Paul, I dare say this here bonnet +was made in Detroit not later than one year ago." + +"If I cannot buy it myself," said Eve, "I might take it out to the mines +for you, Mr. Hollis, and sell it to the women there; I might take out +all six." She spoke gayly. + +"You'd do it a heap better than I could," Hollis declared, admiringly. + +"Let me see, I can try." She opened a bandbox and took out a second +bonnet. This she began to praise in very tropical language; she turned +it round, now rapidly, now slowly; she magnified its ribbons, its +general air. Finally, taking off her round-hat, she perched it on her +own golden braids, and, holding the strings together under her chin, she +said, dramatically: "What an effect!" She did not smile, but her eyes +shone. She looked brilliant. + +The judge stared, amazed. Hollis, contorting himself like an angle-worm +in his delight, applauded. Paul looked on tranquilly. + +"Whatever the rest of you may do, I must be going," said the judge, +determinedly. He went towards the door, each short step sounding on the +planks. + +"So must I," said Eve. "Wait until I put back the bonnets." With deft +hands she returned them to their boxes, Paul and Hollis looking on. Then +they all went out together, Hollis relocking the door. + +"I was on my way home," said Paul, "and I suppose you were too? Hollis, +won't you come along?" + +He went on in advance with Eve, Hollis following with the unwilling +judge, whose steps were still like little taps with a hammer. + +The cottage was on the outskirts of the town. To walk thither took +twenty minutes. + + + + +XV. + + +PAUL had succeeded in keeping Cicely tranquil by a system of telegraphic +despatches and letters, one or the other arriving daily; each morning +Ferdie's wife received a few lines from Romney, written either by Miss +Sabrina or the nurse; after she had read her note, she let herself be +borne along indifferently on the current of another Port aux Pins day. + +The Port aux Pins days were, in themselves, harder for the judge than +for Cicely. For Cicely remained passive; but the old judge could not be +passive to things he hated so intensely. At last, by good-fortune, +Hollis found something that placated him a little; this was fishing, +fishing for trout; not the great rich creature of the lakes, which +passes under that name, but that exquisite morsel, the brook-trout. The +judge had gone off contentedly, even happily, in search of this delicate +prey; he and Hollis had explored the trout-streams of the two +neighboring rivers. A third river, at a greater distance, was reported +richer than any other; one morning they reached it, not only the two +fishermen, but Cicely also, and Eve and Paul. They had crossed by +steamer to a village on the north shore, an old fur-trading post; here +they had engaged canoes and two Indians, and had spent a long day afloat +on the clear wild stream. Its shores were rocky, deeply covered to the +water's edge with a dark forest of spruce-trees; the branchlet +trout-brooks, therefore, had been hard to find under the low-sweeping +foliage. But in this search, Hollis was an expert; with his silk hat +tipped more than ever towards the back of his head, he kept watch, and +he and the judge were put ashore several times in the course of the day, +returning smiling and amiable whether they brought trout or not, with +the serene contentment of fishermen. The others remained in the canoes, +those light birch-bark craft of the American red-men, which, for grace +and beauty, have never been surpassed. Two red-men were paddling one of +them at present; they were civilized red-men, they called themselves +Bill and Jim. But, under their straw hats, hung down their long straight +Indian hair, and the eagle profiles seemed out of place above the +ready-made coats and trousers. On their slender feet they wore beaded +moccasins. Paul Tennant and Hollis also wore moccasins, and the judge +had put on his thinnest shoes; for the birch-bark canoe has a delicate +floor. + +The boat paddled by the Indians carried Cicely, Porley and Jack, and the +judge; the second held only three persons--Eve, Hollis, and Paul +Tennant. Paul was propelling it alone, his paddle touching the water now +on one side, now on the other, lifted across as occasion required as +lightly as though it had been a feather. Cicely was listless, Paul +good-natured, but indifferent also--so it seemed to Eve; and Eve +herself, though she remained quiet (as the judge had described her), Eve +was at heart excited. These thick dark woods without a path, without a +sound, the wild river, the high Northern air which was like an +intoxicant--all these seemed to her wonderful. She breathed rapidly; she +glanced at the others in astonishment. "Why don't they admire it? Why +doesn't he admire it?" she thought, looking at Paul. + +Once the idea came suddenly that Paul was laughing at her, and the blood +sprang to her face; she kept her gaze down until the stuff of her dress +expanded into two large circles in which everything swam, so that she +was obliged to close her eyes dizzily. + +And then, when at last she did look up, her anger and her dizziness had +alike been unnecessary, for Paul was gazing at the wooded shore behind +her; it was evident that he had not thought of her, and was not thinking +of her now. + +This was late in the day, on their way back. A few minutes afterwards, +as they entered the lake, she saw a distant flash, and asked what it +was. + +"Jupiter Light," said Paul. "It's a flash-light, and a good one." + +"There's a Jupiter Light on Abercrombie Island, too," Eve remarked. + +"It's a common enough name," Paul answered; "the best-known one is off +the coast of Florida." + +The Indians passed them, paddling with rushing, rapid strokes. + +"They're right; we shall be late for the steamer if we don't look out," +said Paul. "You can help now if you like, Kit." + +He and Hollis took off their coats, and the canoe flew down the lake +under their feathery paddles; the water was as calm as a floor. Eve was +sitting at the bow, facing Paul. No one spoke, though Hollis now and +then crooned, or rather chewed, a fragment of his favorite song: + + _"'At the battle of the Nile I was there all the while--'"_ + +The little voyage lasted half an hour. + +They reached the village in time for the steamer, and soon afterwards +not only Jack and Porley, but Cicely, the judge, and Hollis, tired after +their long day afloat, had gone to bed. When Cicely sought her berth Eve +also sought hers, the tiny cells being side by side. Since their arrival +at Port aux Pins, Cicely had become more lenient to Eve; she was not so +cold, sometimes she even spoke affectionately. But she was very +changeable. + +To-night, after a while, Eve tapped at Cicely's door. "Are you really +going to bed so early?" + +"I am in bed already." + +"Do you want anything? Isn't there something I can bring you?" + +"No." + +Eve went slowly back to her own cell. But the dimness, the warm air, +oppressed her; she sat down on a stool behind her closed door, the +excitement of the day still remaining with her. "Is it possible that I +am becoming nervous?--I, who have always despised nervousness?" She kept +saying to herself, "I will go to bed in a few minutes." But the idea of +lying there on that narrow shelf, staring at the light from the grating, +repelled her. "At any rate I will _not_ go on deck." + +Ten minutes later she opened her door and went out. + +The swinging lamp in the saloon was turned down, the place was empty; +she crossed the short half-circle which led to the stern-deck, and +stepped outside. There was no moon, but a magnificent aurora borealis +was quivering across the sky, now an even band, now sending out long +flakes of light which waved to and fro. Before she looked at the +splendid heavens, however, she had scanned the deck. There was no one +there. She sat down on one of the benches. + +Presently she heard a step, some one was approaching. There was a gleam +of a cigar; a man's figure; Paul. + +"Is that you? I thought there would be no one here," she said. + +"We are the only passengers," Paul answered. "But, as there are six of +us, you cannot quite control us all." + +"I control no one." ("Not even myself!" she thought.) + +"You will have your wish, though you ought not to; despots shouldn't be +humored. You will have the place to yourself in a few moments, because I +shall turn in soon--the time to finish this cigar--if you don't mind the +smoke?" + +"No, I don't mind," she answered, a chill of disappointment creeping +slowly over her. + +"Hasn't it been jolly?" Paul said, after a moment: he had seated himself +on a stool near her bench. "I do love to be out like this, away from all +bother." + +"Do you? I thought you didn't." + +The words were no sooner out than she feared he would say, "Why?" And +then her answer (for of course she must say something; she could not let +him believe that she had had no idea)--her answer would show that she +had been thinking about him. + +But apparently Paul was not curious, he did not ask. "It's very good for +Cicely too; I wish I could take her oftener," he went on. "Her promise +to stay on here weighs upon her heavily. I don't know whether she would +have kept her word with me or not; but you know, of course, that Ferdie +himself has written, telling her that she must stay?" + +"No." + +"She didn't tell you?" + +"She tells me nothing!" replied Eve. "If she would only allow it, I +would go down there to-morrow. I could be the nurse; I could be the +housekeeper; anything." + +"You're not needed down there, they have plenty of people; we want you +here, to see to her." + +"One or the other of them;--I hope they will always permit it. I can be +of use, perhaps, about Jack." + +"You are too humble, Miss Bruce; sometimes you seem to be almost on your +knees to Cicely, as though you had done her some great wrong. The truth +is the other way; she ought to be on her knees to you. You brought her +off when she hadn't the force to come herself, poor little woman! And +you did it boldly and quickly, just as a man would have done it. Now +that I know you, I can imagine the whole thing." + +"Never speak of that time; never," murmured Eve. + +"Well, I won't, then, if you don't like it. But you will let me say how +glad I am that you intend to remain with her, at least for a while. You +will see from this that I don't believe a word of her story about your +dislike for my brother." + +"There is nothing I would not do for him!" + +"Yes, you like to do things; to be active. They tell me that you are +fond of having your own way; but that is the very sort of person they +need--a woman like you, strong and cool. After a while you would really +like Ferdie, you couldn't help it. And he would like you." + +"It is impossible that he should like me." She rose quickly. + +"You're going in? Well, fifteen hours in the open air _are_ an opiate. +Should you care to go forward first for a moment? I can show you a place +where you can look down below; there are two hundred emigrants on board; +Norwegians." + +She hesitated, drawing her shawl about her. + +"Take my arm; I can guide you better so. It's dark, and I know the ins +and outs." + +She put her hand upon his arm. + +He drew it further through. "I don't want you to be falling down!" + +They went forward along the narrow side. Conversation was not easy, they +had to make their way round various obstacles by sense of feeling; still +Eve talked; she talked hastily, irrelevantly. When she came to the end +of her breath she found herself speaking this sentence: "I like your +friend Mr. Hollis so much!" + +"Yes, Kit is a wonderful fellow; he has extraordinary talent." He spoke +in perfect good faith. + +"Oh, extraordinary?" said Eve, abandoning Hollis with feminine +versatility, as an obscure feeling, which she did not herself recognize, +rose within her. + +"If you don't think so, it's because you don't know him. He is an +excellent classical scholar, to begin with; he has read everything under +the sun; he is an inventor, a geologist, and one of the best lawyers in +the state, in spite of his notion about not practising." + +"You don't add that he is an excellent auctioneer?" + +"No; that he is not, I am sorry to say; he is a very bad one." + +"Yet it is the occupation which he has himself selected. Does that show +such remarkable talent? Now you, with your mining--" She stopped. + +"I didn't select mining," answered Paul, roughly, "and I'm not +particularly good at it; I took what I could get, that's all." + +They had now reached the forward deck. Two men belonging to the crew +were sitting on a pile of rope; above, patrolling the small upper +platform, was the officer in charge; they could not see him, but they +could hear his step. To get to the bow, they walked as it were up hill; +they reached the sharp point, and looked down over the high, smooth +sides which were cutting the deep water so quietly. Eve's glance turned +to the splendid aurora quivering and shining above. + +"This _T. P. Mayhew_ is an excellent boat," remarked Paul, who was still +looking over the sides. "But, as to that, all the N. T. boats are good." + +"N. T.?" + +"Northern Transportation." He gave a slight yawn. + +"Tell me about your iron," said Eve, quickly. ("Oh, he will go in! he is +going in!" was her thought.) + +"It isn't mine--I wish it was; I'm only manager." + +"I don't mean the mine here; I mean your Clay County iron." + +"What do you know about that?" said Paul, surprised. + +"Mr. Hollis told me; he said you had declined an excellent offer, and he +was greatly concerned about it; he told me the reasons why he did not +agree with you." + +"It must have been interesting! But that all happened some time ago; +didn't you know that he had come round to my view of it, after all?" + +"No." + +"Yes, round he came; it took him eight days. He has got such a +look-on-all-sides head that, when he starts out to investigate, he +tramps all over the sky; if he intends to go north, he goes east, west, +and south first, so as to make sure that these are not the right +directions. However, on the eighth day in he came, squeezing himself +through a crack, as usual, and explained to me at length the reasons why +it was better, on the whole, to decline that offer. He had thought the +matter out to its remotest contingencies--some of them went over into +the next century! It was remarkably clear and well argued; and of course +very satisfactory to me." + +"But in the meantime you had already declined, hadn't you?" + +"Yes. But it was a splendid piece of following up. I declare, I always +feel my inferiority when I am with people who can really talk--talk like +that!" + +"Oh!" said Eve, in accents of remonstrance. Her tone was so eloquent +that Paul laughed. He laughed to himself, but she heard it, or rather +she felt it; she drew her hand quickly from his arm. + +"Don't be vexed. I was only laughing to see how--" + +"How what?" + +"How invariably you women flatter." + +"_I_ don't." She spoke hurriedly, confusedly. + +"You had better learn, then," Paul went on, still laughing; "I'm afraid +that when we're well stuffed with it we're more good-natured. Shall I +take you back to the stern? I'm getting frightfully sleepy; aren't you?" + +On the way back she did not speak. + +When they reached the stern-deck, "Good-night," he said, promptly +opening the door into the lighted saloon. + +She looked up at him; in her face there was an inattention to the +present, an inattention to what he was saying. Her eyes scanned his +features with a sort of slow wonder. But it was a wonder at herself. + +"You had better see that the windows are closed," said Paul. "There's +going to be a change of wind." + + + + +XVI. + + +Eve's cheeks showed a deep rose bloom; she was no longer the snow-white +woman whom near-sighted Miss Sabrina had furtively scanned upon her +arrival at Romney six months before. She was still markedly erect, but +her step had become less confident, her despotic manner had disappeared. +Often now she was irresolute, and she had grown awkward--a thing new +with her; she did not know how to arrange her smallest action, hampered +by this new quality. + +But since the terrible hour when Ferdie had appeared at the end of the +corridor with his candle held aloft and his fixed eyes, life with her +had rushed along so rapidly that she had seemed to be powerless in its +current. The first night in Paul's cottage, in her little room next to +Cicely's, she had spent hours on her knees by the bedside pouring forth +in a flood of gratitude to Some One, Somewhere--she knew no formulas of +prayer--that she had been delivered from the horror that had held her +speechless through all the long journey. Ferdie was living! She repeated +it over and over--Ferdie was living! + +At the time there had been no plan; she had stepped back into her room +to get the pistol, not with any purpose of attack, but in order not to +be without some means of defence. The pistol was one of Jack's, which +she had found and taken possession of soon after her arrival, +principally because it had been his; she had seen him with it often; +with it he himself had taught her to shoot. Then at the last, when +Jack's poor little boy had climbed up by the boat's seat, and the madman +had made that spring towards him, then she had--done what she did. She +had done it mechanically; it had seemed the only thing to do. + +But, once away, the horror had come, as it always does and must, when by +violence a human life has been taken. She had dropped the pistol into +the Sound, but she could not drop the ghastly picture of the dark figure +on the sand, with its arms making two or three spasmodic motions, then +becoming suddenly still. Was he dead? If he was, she, Eve Bruce, was a +murderer, a creature to be imprisoned for life,--hanged. How people +would shrink from her if they knew! And how monstrous it was that she +should touch Cicely! Yet she must. Cain, where is thy brother? And the +Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. Would +it come to this, that she should be forced at last to take her own life, +in order to be free from the horror of murder? These were the constant +thoughts of that journey northward, without one moment's respite day or +night. + +But deliverance had come: he was alive! God was good after all, God was +kind; he had lifted from her this pall of death. He was alive! He was +alive! + +"Oh, I did not do it! I am innocent! That figure has gone from the sand; +it got up and walked away!" She laughed in the relief, the reaction, and +buried her face in the pillow to stifle it. "Cicely will not know what I +am laughing at; she will wonder. I need never tell her anything now, +because the only men who were suspected have got safely away. She is +safe, little Jack is safe, and Ferdie is not dead; he is alive--alive!" +So swept on through the night the tide of her immense joy. For the next +day and the next, for many days after, this joy surged within her, its +outward expression being the flush, and the brilliant light in her eyes. + +Eve Bruce had a strongly truthful nature, she was frank not only with +others, but with herself; she possessed the unusual mental quality +(unusual in a woman) of recognizing facts, whether they were agreeable +or not; of living without illusions. This had helped to give her, +perhaps, her brusque manner, with its absence of gentleness, its scanty +sweetness. With her innate truthfulness, it was not long before this +woman perceived that there was another cause contributing to the +excitement that was quickening her breath and making life seem new. The +discovery had come suddenly. + +It had been arranged that on a certain day they should walk out to the +mine, Paul, the judge, Hollis, and herself. When the time came, Hollis +appeared alone, Paul was too busy to leave the office. They walked out +to the mine. But Eve felt her feet dragging, she was unaccountably +depressed. Upon her return, as she came in sight of the cottage, she +remembered how happy she had been there the day before, and for many +days. What had changed? Had she not the same unspeakable great cause for +joy? For what reason did the day seem dull and the sky dark? And then +the truth showed itself: it was because Paul Tennant was not there; +nothing else. + +Another woman would have veiled it, would not have acknowledged the fact +even to herself; for women have miraculous power of really believing +only what they wish to believe; for many women facts, taken alone, do +not exist. But Eve had no such endowments. She had reached her room; she +pushed to the door and stood there motionless; after two or three +minutes she sank into the nearest chair; here she sat without stirring +for some time. Then she rose, went down the stairs, and out again. It +was six o'clock, but there were still two hours of daylight; she hurried +towards the nearest border of forest, and, just within its fringe, she +began walking rapidly to and fro, her hands, clasped together, hanging +before her, her eyes on the ground. She did not come back until +nightfall. + +As she entered she met Paul. + +"I was coming to hunt for you. Where have you been?" He spoke with +surprise. + +Eve looked at him once. Then she turned away. What a change in herself! +Now she understood Cicely. Now she understood--yes, she understood +everything--the things she had always despised--pettiness, jealousy, +impossible hopes, disgrace, shame. + +"I was afraid Cicely would be alarmed," Paul went on. + +And Eve was not offended that it was Cicely of whom he was thinking. It +had not yet occurred to her that he could think of her. + +She went in search of Cicely, who had nothing to say to her; then, +excusing herself, she retreated to her room. Here she took off her dress +and began to unbraid her hair. Then the thought came to her that Paul +would go to the parlor about this time, that he would play a game of +chess, perhaps, with the judge; hastily repairing the disorder she had +made, she rearranged the braids, felt in the rough closet for her +evening shoes, put them on, and went down-stairs again with rapid step. + +Cicely made no remark as she came in; Paul and the judge were playing +their game, with Hollis looking on. Eve took a book and sat reading, or +apparently reading, at some distance. "Oh, how abject this is! How +childish, how sickening!" Anger against herself rose hotly; under its +sting she felt her strength returning. She sat there as long as the +others did. "I will not make a second scene by going out" (but no one +had noticed her first). She answered Paul's good-night coldly. But when +she was back in her room again, when there was no more escape from its +four walls until morning, then she found herself without defences, +without pretexts, face to face with the fact that she loved this man, +this Paul Tennant, with all her heart. It was a surprise as great as if +she had suddenly become blind, or deaf, or mad--"stricken of God," as +people call it. "I am stricken. But I am not sure it is of God!" That +she, no longer a girl, after all these years untouched by such +feelings--that she, with her clear vision and strong will (she had +always been so proud of her will), should be led captive in this way by +a stranger who cared nothing for her, who did not even wish to +capture--it was a sort of insanity. She paced her room to and fro as she +had paced the fringe of woods. She stretched out her hands and looked at +them as though they had been the hands of some one else; she struck one +of them upon her bare arm; she was so humiliated that she must hurt +something; that something should be herself. "If he should ever care for +me, I would refuse him," she repeated, in bitter triumph. Immediately +the thought followed, "He will never care!" + +"I do not love him really," she kept repeating. "I am not well; it will +pass." But while she was saying this, there came a glow that +contradicted her, a glow before whose new sway she was helpless. "Oh, I +do! I loved him the first day I saw him. What is that old phrase?--I +love the ground he walks on." She buried her face in her hands. + +"How strange! I am happier than I have ever been in my life before; I +didn't know that there was such happiness!" A door seemed to open, +showing a way out of her trouble, a way which led to a vision of subtle +sweetness--her life through the future with this passion hidden like a +treasure in her heart, no one to know it, no one to suspect its +existence. "As I am to be nothing to him, as I wish to be nothing to +him, I shall not care whom _he_ loves; that is nothing to me." Upon this +basis she would arrange her life. + +But it is not so easy to arrange life. Almost immediately she began to +suffer, a species of suffering, too, to which she was unused: trifles +annoyed her like innumerable stings--she was not able to preserve her +calm; as regarded anything important, she could have been herself, or so +she imagined; but little things irritated her, and the days were full of +little things. She rebelled against this nervousness, but she could not +subdue it; and gradually the beautiful vision of her life, as she had +imagined it, faded away miserably in a cloud of petty exasperations and +despair. After wretched hours, unable to endure her humiliation longer, +she resolved to conquer herself at any cost, to set herself free; she +could not go away, because she would not leave Cicely; there was still +her brother's child; but here, on the spot, she would overcome this +feeling that had taken possession of her and changed her so that she did +not know herself. "I _will_!" she said. It was a vow; her will was the +strongest force of her being. + +This very will blinded her, she was too sure of it. She was in earnest +about wishing and intending to win in her great battle. But she forgot +the details. + +These are some of the details: + +The one time of day when Paul was neither at the mine nor in his office +was at sunset; twice she went through a chain of reasoning to prove to +herself that she had a necessary errand at that hour at one of the +stores; both times she met him. She had heard Paul say that he liked to +see women sew; she was no needlewoman; but presently she began to +embroider an apron for Jack (with very poor success). Paul was no +reader; he looked through the newspapers once a day, and when it rained +very hard in the evening, and there was nothing else to do, occasionally +he took up his one book; for he had but one, at least so Hollis +declared; at any rate he read but one; this one was Gibbon. The only +edition of the great history in the little book-store of Port aux Pins +was a miserably printed copy in paper covers. But a lady bought it in +spite of its blurred type. + +Finally this same lady went to church. It was on a Sunday afternoon, the +second service; she came in late, and took a seat in the last pew. When +had Eve Bruce been to church before? Paul went once in a while. And it +was when she saw his head towering above the heads of the shorter people +about him, as the congregation rose to repeat the creed--it was then +suddenly that the veil was lifted and she saw the truth: this was what +she had come for. + +She did not try to deny it, she comprehended her failure. After this she +ceased to struggle, she only tried to be quiet. She lived from day to +day, from hour to hour; it was a compromise. "But I shall not be here +long; something will separate us; soon, perhaps in a few weeks, it will +have come to an end, and then I may never see him again." So she +reasoned, passively. + +About this time Cicely fell ill. The Port aux Pins doctor had at length +given a name to her listlessness and her constantly increasing physical +weakness; he called it nervous prostration (one of the modern titles +for grief, or an aching heart). + +"What do you advise?" Paul had asked. + +"Take her away." + +Two days later they were living under tents at Jupiter Light. + +"We cannot get off this evening; it is perfectly impossible," the judge +had declared, bewildered by Paul's sudden decision, not knowing as yet +whether he agreed with it or not, and furthermore harried by the arrival +of tents, provisions, Indians, cooks, and kettles, the kettles invading +even the dining-room, his especial retreat. + +"Oh, we shall go; never you fear," said Hollis, who was hard at work +boxing up an iron bedstead. "At the last moment Paul will drive us all +on board like a flock of sheep." + +And, at nine o'clock that night, they did embark, the judge, who had +given up comprehending anything, walking desperately behind the others; +Hollis, weighed down with rods and guns, and his own clothing escaping +from newspapers; a man cook; a band of Indians; Porley and Jack; Eve; +and, last of all, Cicely, tenderly carried in Paul's arms. In a week the +complete change, the living under canvas in the aromatic air of the +pines, produced a visible effect; Cicely began to recover her lost +vitality; the alarming weakness disappeared. Every day there came her +letter or despatch, one of the Indians going fifteen miles for it, in a +canoe; the message was always favorable, Ferdie was constantly +improving. All was arranged, Paul was to go southward in July. He and +Cicely had frequent talks (talks which Paul tried to make as cheerful as +possible); perhaps, next winter, they should all be living together at +Port aux Pins; that is, in case it should be thought best to give up +Valparaiso, after all. Cicely read and re-read the letters; she always +kept the last one under her dress on her heart; for the rest she floated +in the canoe, and she played with Jack, who bloomed with health to that +extent that he was called the Porpoise. The judge, happy in the +improvement of his darling little girl, fished; snarled with Hollis; +then fished again. Hollis, always attired in his black coat, showed +positive genius in the matter of broiling. And Paul came and went as he +was able. As he could not be absent long from the mine, he made the +journey to Port aux Pins every three days, leaving Hollis in charge at +the camp during his absence. One day Hollis also was obliged to go to +Port aux Pins. And while he was there he attended an evening party. This +entertainment he described for Cicely's amusement upon his return. For +she was the central person to them all; they gathered round her, they +obeyed eagerly her slightest wish; when she laughed, they laughed also, +they were so glad to see life once more animating her white little face; +it was for this that Hollis prolonged his story, and quoted Shakespeare; +he would have stood on his head if it would have made her smile. + +A part of Hollis's description: "So then her sister Idora started on the +piano an accompaniment that went like this: _Bang!_ la-la-la. _Bang!_ +la-la-la, and Miss Parthenia, she began singing: + + _'O why-ee should the white man follow my path_ + _Like the hound on the tiger's track?'_ + +And then, with her hand over her mouth, she gave us a regular Indian +war-whoop." + +"How I wish I had been there!" said Cicely, with sudden laughter. + +"She'll whoop for you at any time; proud to," continued Hollis. "Well, +after the song was over, Mother Drone she sat back in her chair, and she +loosened her cap-strings on the sly. Says she: 'I hope the girls won't +see me doing this, Mr. Hollis; they think tarlatan strings tied under +the chin for a widow are so sweet. I told them I'd been a widow fifteen +years without 'em; but they say, now they've grown up, I ought to have +strings for their sakes, and be more prominent. Is Idora out on the +steps with Wolf Roth? Would you mind peeking?' So I peeked. But Wolf +Roth was there alone. 'He don't look dangerous,' I remarked, when I'd +loped back. Says she: 'He'd oughter, then. And he would, too, if he knew +it was me he sees when he comes serenading. I tap the girls on the +shoulder: 'Girls? Wolf Roth and his guitar!' But you might as well tap +the seven sleepers! So I have to cough, and I have to glimp, and Wolf +Roth--he little thinks it's ma'am!" + +"Oh, what is glimp?" said Cicely, still laughing. + +"It's showing a light through the blinds, very faint and shy," answered +Hollis. + + _"'Thou know'st the mask of night is on me face,_ + _Else would a maid-en blush bepaint me cheek,'"_ + +he quoted, gravely. "That's about the size of it, I guess." + +Having drawn the last smile from Cicely, he went off to his tent, and +presently he and the judge started for the nearest trout-brook together. + +Paul came up from the beach. "There's an Indian village two miles above +here, Cicely; do you care to have a look at it? I could take you and +Miss Bruce in the little canoe." + +But Cicely was tired: often now, after a sudden fit of merriment (which +seemed to be a return, though infinitely fainter, of her old wild +moods), she would look exhausted. "I think I will swing in the hammock," +she said. + +"Will you go, then, Miss Bruce?" Paul asked, carelessly. + +"Thanks; I have something to do." + +Half an hour later, Paul having gone off by himself, she was sitting on +a fallen tree on the shore, at some distance from the tents, when his +canoe glided suddenly into view, coming round a near point; he beached +it and sprang ashore. + +"You surely have not had time to go to that village?" she said, rising. + +"Did I say I was going alone? Apparently what you had to do was not so +very important," he added, smiling. + +"Yes, I was occupied," she answered. + +"We can go still, if you like; there is time." + +"Thank you;--no." + +Paul gave her a look. She fancied that she saw in it regret. "Is it very +curious--your village? Perhaps it would be amusing, after all." + +He helped her into the canoe, and the next moment they were gliding up +the lake. The village was a temporary one, twenty or thirty wigwams in a +grove. Only the women and children were at home, the sweet-voiced young +squaws in their calico skirts and blankets, the queer little mummy-like +pappooses, the half-naked children. They brought out bows and arrows to +sell, agates which they had found on the beach, Indian sugar in little +birch-bark boxes, quaintly ornamented. + +"Tell them to gather some bluebells for me," said Eve. Her face had an +expression of joyousness; every now and then she laughed like a merry +girl. + +Paul repeated her request in the Chippewa tongue, and immediately all +the black-eyed children sallied forth, returning with large bunches of +the fragile-stemmed flowers, so that Eve's hands were full. She +lingered, sitting on the side of an old canoe; she distributed all the +small coins she had. Finally they were afloat again; she wondered who +had suggested it. "There's a gleam already," she said, as they passed +Jupiter Light. "Some day I should like to go out there." + +"I can take you now," Paul answered. And he sent the canoe flying +towards the reef. + +She had made no protest. "He wished to go," she said to herself, +contentedly. + +The distance was greater than she had supposed; it was twilight when +they reached the miniature beach. + +"Shall we make them let us in, and climb up to the top?" suggested Paul. + +She laughed. "No; better not." + +She looked up at the tower. Paul, standing beside her, his arms folded, +his head thrown back, was looking up also. "I can't see the least light +from here," he said. Then again, "_Don't_ you want to go up?" + +"Well--if you like." + +It was dark within; a man came down with a lantern, and preceded them up +the narrow winding stairway. When they reached the top they could see +nothing but the interior of the little room; so down they came again, +without even saying the usual things: about the probable queerness of +life in such a place; and whether any one could really like it; and that +some persons might be found who would consider it an ideal residence and +never wish to come away. Though their stay had been so short, their +going up so aimless, the expedition did not seem to Eve at all stupid; +in her eyes it had the air of an exciting adventure. + +"They will be wondering where we are," said Paul, as he turned the canoe +homeward. She did not answer, it was sweet to her to sit there in +silence, and feel the light craft dart forward through the darkness +under his strong strokes. Who were "they"? Why should "they" wonder? +Paul too said nothing. Unconsciously she believed that he shared her +mood. + +When they reached the camp he helped her out. "I hope you are not too +tired? At last I can have the credit of doing something that has pleased +you; I saw how much you wanted to go." + +He saw how much she had wanted to go!--that spoiled all. Anger filled +her heart to suffocation. + +Two hours later she stood looking from her tent for a moment. Cicely and +Jack, with whom she shared it, were asleep, and she herself was wrapped +in a blue dressing-gown over her delicate night-dress, her hair in long +braids hanging down her back. The judge and Hollis had gone to bed, the +Indians were asleep under their own tent; all was still, save the +regular wash of the water on the beach. By the dying light of the +camp-fire she could make out a figure--Paul, sitting alone beside one +of their rough tables, with his elbow upon it, his head supported by his +hand. Something in his attitude struck her, and reasonlessly, silently, +her anger against him vanished, and its place was filled by a great +tenderness. What was he thinking of? She did not know; she only knew one +thing--that she loved him. After looking at him for some minutes she +dropped the flap of the tent and stole to bed, where immediately she +began to imagine what she might say to him if she were out there, and +what he might reply; her remarks should be very original, touching, or +brilliant; and he would be duly impressed, and would gradually show more +interest. And then, when he began to advance, she would withdraw. So at +last she fell asleep. + +Meanwhile, outside by the dying fire, what was Paul Tennant thinking of? +His Clay County iron. He had had another offer, and this project was one +in which he should himself have a share. But could he accept it? Could +he pledge himself to advance the money required? He had only his salary +at present, all his savings having gone to Valparaiso; there were +Ferdie's expenses to think of, and Ferdie's wife, that little wife so +unreasonable and so sweet, she too must lack nothing. It grew towards +midnight; still he sat there pondering, adding figures mentally, +calculating. The bird which had so insistently cried "Whip-po-_Will_," +"Whip-po-_Will_," had ceased its song; there came from a distance, +twice, the laugh of a loon; Jupiter Light went on flashing its gleam +regularly over the lake. + +The man by the fire never once thought of Eve Bruce. + + + + +XVII. + + +PAUL'S arrangements, as regarded Cicely, had been excellent. But an hour +arrived when the excellence suddenly became of no avail; for Cicely's +mood changed. When the change had taken place, nothing that any of these +persons, who were devoting themselves to her, could do or say, weighed +with her for one instant. She came from her tent one morning, and said, +"Grandpa, please come down to the shore for a moment." She led the way, +and the judge followed her. When they reached the beach the moon was +rising, its narrow golden path crossed the lake to their feet. "I can't +stay here any longer, grandpa." + +"We will go back to Port aux Pins, then, dearie; though it seems a pity, +you have been so well here." + +"I don't mean Port aux Pins; I am going to Romney." + +"But I thought Ferdie had written to you not to come? Tennant certainly +said so, he assured me that Ferdie had written, urging you to stay here; +he has no right to deceive me in that way--Paul Tennant; it's +outrageous!" + +"Ferdie did write. And he didn't urge me to stay, he commanded me." + +"Then you must obey him," said the judge. + +"No; I must disobey him." She stood looking absently at the water. "He +has some reason." + +"Of course he has--an excellent one; he wants to keep you out of the +mess of a long illness--you and Jack." + +"I wish you would never mention Jack to me again." + +"My dear little girl,--not mention Jack? Why, how can we talk at all, +without mentioning baby?" + +"You and Eve keep bringing him into every conversation, because you +think it will have an influence--make me give up Ferdie. Nothing will +make me give up Ferdie. So you need not talk of baby any more." + +The judge looked at her with eyes of despair. + +Cicely went on. "No; it is not his illness that made Ferdie tell me to +stay here. He has some other reason. And I am _afraid._" + +"What are you afraid of?" + +"I don't know,--that is the worst of it! Since his letter, I have +imagined everything. I cannot bear it any longer; you must take me to +him to-morrow, or I shall start by myself; I could easily do it, I could +outwit you twenty times over." + +"Outwit? You talk in that way to _me?_" + +Cicely watched him as his face quivered, all his features seeming to +shrink together for an instant. "I suppose I seem selfish, grandpa." She +threw out her hands with sudden passion. "I don't want to be, I don't +mean to be! It is you who are keeping me here. Can't you see that I +_must_ go? _Can't_ you?" + +"Why no, I can't," said the old man, terrified by her vehemence. + +"There's no use talking, then." She left him, and went back through the +woods towards the tents. + +The judge came up from the beach alone. Hollis, who was sitting by the +fire, noted his desolate face. "Euchre?" he proposed, good-naturedly. +(He called it "yuke.") But the judge neither saw him nor heard him. + +As Cicely reached her tent, she met Eve coming out, with Jack in her +arms. She seized the child, felt of his feet and knees, and then, +holding him tightly, she carried him to the fire, where she seated +herself on a bench. Eve came also, and stood beside the fire. After a +moment the judge seated himself humbly on the other end of the bench +which held his grandchild. There was a pause, broken only by the +crackling of the flame. Then Cicely said, with a dry little laugh, "You +had better go to your tent, Mr. Hollis. You need not take part in this +family quarrel." + +"Quarrel!" replied Hollis, cheerily. "Who could quarrel with you, Mrs. +Morrison? Might as well quarrel with a bobolink." No one answered him. +"Don't know as you've ever seen a bobolink?" he went on, rather +anxiously. "I assure you--lively and magnificent!" + +"It is a pity you are so devoted to Paul," remarked Cicely, looking at +him. + +"Devoted? Well, now, I never thought I should come to _that_," said +Hollis, with a grin of embarrassment, kicking the brands of the fire +apart with, his boot. + +"Because if you weren't, I might take you into my confidence--I need +some one; I want to run away from grandpa and Eve." + +"Oh, I dare say," said Hollis, jocularly. But his eyes happening to fall +first upon Eve, then upon the judge, he grew suddenly disturbed. "Why +don't you take Paul?" he suggested, still trying to be jocular. "He is +a better helper than I am." + +"Paul is my head jailer," answered Cicely. "Grandpa and Eve are only his +assistants." + +The judge covered his face with his hand. Hollis saw that he was +suffering acutely. "Paul had better come and defend himself," he said, +still clinging to his jocosity; "I am going to get him." And he started +towards Paul's tent with long swinging strides, like the lope of an +Indian. + +"Cicely," said Eve, coming to the bench, "I will take you to Romney, if +that is what you want; we will start to-morrow." + +"Saul among the prophets!" answered Cicely, cynically. "Are you planning +to escape from me with Jack, as I am planning to escape from grandpa?" + +"I am not planning anything; I only want to help you." + +Cicely looked at her. "Curiously enough, Eve, I believe you. I don't +know what has changed you, but I believe you." + +The judge looked up; the two women held each other's hands. The judge +left his seat and hurried away. + +He arrived at Paul's tent breathless. The hanging lamp within +illuminated a rude table which held ink and paper; Paul had evidently +stopped in the midst of his writing, for he still held his pen in his +hand. + +"I was saying to Paul that he really ought to come out now and talk to +the ladies, instead of crooking his back over that writing," said +Hollis. + +But the judge waved him aside. "For God's sake, Tennant, come out, and +see what you can do with Cicely! She is determined to go to that +murdering brother of yours in spite of--" + +"Hold up, if you please, about my brother," said Paul, putting down his +pen. + +"And Eve is abetting her;--says she will take her to-morrow." + +"Not Miss Bruce? What has made her change so?--confound her!" + +The judge had already started to lead the way back. But Hollis, who was +behind, touched Paul's arm. "I say, don't confound her too much, Paul," +he said, in a low tone. "She is a remarkably clever girl. And she thinks +a lot of you." + +"Sorry for her, then," answered Paul, going out. As Hollis still kept up +with him, he added, "How do you know she does?" + +"Because I like her myself," answered Hollis, bravely. "When you're that +way, you know, you can always tell." + +He fell behind. Paul went on alone. + +When he reached the camp-fire, Cicely looked up. "Oh, you've come!" + +"Yes." + +"There are two of us now. Eve is on my side." + +"So I have heard." He went to Eve, took her arm, and led her away almost +by force to the shadow at some distance from the fire. "What in the +world has made you change so?" he said. "Do you know--it's abject." + +"Yes, it's abject," Eve answered. She could see him looking at her in +the dusky darkness; she had never been looked at in such a way before. +"It's brave, too," she added, trying to keep back the tears. + +"I don't understand riddles." + +"I think you understand mine." She had said it. She had been seized with +a sudden wild desire to make an end of it, to put it into words. The +overweight of daring which nature had given her drew her on. + +"Well, if I do, then," answered Paul, "why don't you want to please me?" + +She turned her head away, suffocated by his calm acceptance of her +avowal. "It would be of no use. And I want to make one woman happy; so +few women are happy!" + +"Do you call it happy to have Ferdie knocking her about?" + +"She does." + +"And knocking about Jack, too?" + +"I shall be there, I can take care of Jack." + +"I see I can do nothing with you. You have lost your senses!" + +He went back to Cicely. "Ferdie has his faults, Cicely, as we both know; +but you have yours too, you make yourself out too important. How many +other women do you think he has cared for?" + +"Before he saw me, five hundred, if you like; five thousand." + +"And since he saw you--since he married you?" + +Cicely laughed happily. + +"I will bring you something," said Paul. He went off to his tent. + +Eve came rapidly to Cicely. "Don't believe a word he tells you!" + +"If it is anything against Ferdie, of course I shall not," answered +Cicely, composedly. + +The judge had followed Paul to his tent. He waited anxiously outside, +and then followed him back. + +"I don't believe, after all, Cicely, that you are going to do what I +don't want you to do," said Paul, in a cheerful tone, as he came up. He +seemed to have abandoned whatever purpose he had had, for he brought +nothing with him--his hands were empty. + +Cicely did not reply, she played with a curl of Jack's hair. + +"Ferdie himself doesn't want you to go; you showed me his letter saying +so." + +"Yes." + +"Isn't that enough, then? Come, don't be so cold with me," Paul went on, +his voice taking caressing tones. + +Cicely felt their influence. "I want to go, Paul, because that very +letter of Ferdie's makes me afraid," she said, wistfully; "I feel that +there is something behind, something I do not know." + +"If there is, it is something which he does not wish you to know." + +"That could never be; it is only because I am not with him; when I am +with him, he tells me everything, he likes to tell me." + +"Will you take my word for it if I assure you that it is much better for +both of you, not only for yourself, but for Ferdie, that you stay here +awhile longer?" + +"No," replied Cicely, hardening. Her "no" was quiet, but it expressed an +obstinacy that was immovable. + +Paul looked at her. "Will you wait a week?" + +"No." + +"Will you wait three days?" + +"I shall start to-morrow," replied Cicely. + +"Read this, then." He took a letter from his pocket and held it towards +her, his name, "Paul Tennant, Esq.," clearly visible on the envelope in +the light of the flame. + +But at the same instant Eve bent forward; she grasped his arm, drawing +his hand back. + +"Don't _you_ interfere," he said, freeing himself. + +Eve turned to the judge. "Oh, take her away!" + +"Where to? I relied upon Tennant; I thought Tennant would be able to do +something," said the old man, miserably. + +Paul meanwhile, his back turned squarely to Eve, was again holding out +the letter to Cicely. + +Cicely did not take it. + +"I'll read it aloud, then." He drew the sheet from its envelope, and, +opening it, began, "'Dear old Paul--'" + +Cicely put out both her hands,--"Give it to me." She took it hastily. +"Oh, how can you treat him so--Ferdie, your own brother!" Her eyes were +full of tears. + +"I cared for him before you ever saw him," answered Paul, exasperated. +"What do you know about my feelings? Ferdie wishes you to stay here, and +every one thinks you exceedingly wrong to go--every one except Miss +Bruce, who seems to have lost her head." Here he flashed a short look at +Eve. + +"I shall go!" cried Cicely. + +"Because you think he cannot get on without you?" + +"I know he cannot." + +"Read the letter, then." + +"No, take the letter away from her," said Eve. She spoke to Paul, and +her tone was a command. He looked at her; with a sudden change of +feeling he tried to obey her. But it was too late, Cicely had thrust the +letter into the bodice of her dress; then she rose, her sleeping child +in her arms. "Grandpa, will you come with me? Will you carry Jack?" + +"I will take him," said Paul. + +"No, only grandpa, please; not even you, Eve; just grandpa and I. You +may come later; in fifteen minutes." She spoke with a dignity which she +had never shown before, and they went away together, the old man +carrying the sleeping child. + +"What was in that letter?" Eve demanded accusingly, as soon as they were +left alone. + +"Well, another woman." + +"Cruel!" + +"Yes, it seems so now," said Paul, disturbed. "My one idea about it was +that it might make her less confident that she was all-important to him; +in that way we could keep her on here a while longer." + +"Yes, with a broken heart." + +"Oh, hearts! rubbish!--the point was to make her stay. You haven't half +an idea how important it is, and I can't tell you; she cannot go back to +him until I have been down there and--and changed some things, made new +arrangements." + +"I think it the greatest cruelty I have ever heard of!" She hurried +through the woods towards the tents; Paul followed her. + +The judge came out as they approached. "She is reading it," he said in a +whisper. "Tennant, I hope you know what you are about?" + +"Yes; that letter will make her stay," answered Paul, decisively. + +Eve turned to enter the tent. + +"The fifteen minutes are not up," said Paul, holding her back. + +She drew away from him, but she did not try to enter again; they waited +in silence. + +Then came a sound. Eve ran within, the two men behind her. + +Little Jack, on the bed, was sleeping peacefully. Cicely had fallen from +her seat to the matting that covered the floor. + +Eve lifted her; kneeling on the matting, she held her in her arms. + + + + +XVIII. + + +The letter, though it was only a partial revelation, roused in Ferdie's +wife a passion of anger so intense that they were all alarmed. She did +not speak or stir; she sat looking at them; but her very immobility, +with the deep spot of red in each cheek, and her darkened narrowed eyes, +made her terrible. This state lasted for twenty-four hours, during which +time the poor old judge, unable to sit down or to sleep, wandered about, +Hollis accompanying him silently, and waiting outside when he went every +now and then to the entrance of the tent to look in. Paul came once. But +Cicely's eyes darkened so when she saw him that Eve hurriedly motioned +him away. She followed him out. + +"Do not come again until I send for you." + +"If there is nothing for me to do then, I might as well go to bed." + +"You are fortunate in being able to sleep!" + +"I shall sleep a great deal better than I did when I thought she would +be starting south in spite of us," retorted Paul. "Imagine her arriving +there and finding out--It's much worse than she knows; that letter only +tells a little. There are others, telling more, which I have kept back." + +"Did you really, then, keep back anything!" + +"She'll forgive me. She'll forgive me, and like me better than ever; +you'll see." + +"And is it a question of you? It is her husband, her faith in him, her +love for him," said Eve, passionately. + +"Oh, as to that, she will forgive _him_ the very first moment she sees +him," answered Paul, going off. + +Early in the morning of the second day, Cicely sent for him. "If you +don't still believe in him, if you don't still love him--" she began the +instant he entered, her poor little voice trying to be a threat. + +"Of course I believe in him." + +"And he is noble? and good?" + +"If you can call him that--to-day--you are a trump," said Paul, +delightedly. + +He had gained his point; and, by one of the miracles of love, she could +forgive her husband and excuse his fault; she could still worship him, +believe in him. Paul also believed in him, but in another way. And upon +this ground they met, Paul full of admiration for what he called her +pluck and common-sense (both were but love), and she adoring him for his +unswerving affection for his brother. Paul would go South soon; he +would--he would make arrangements. She pinned all her faith upon Paul +now; Paul was her demi-god because he believed in his brother. + +And thus the camp-life went on again. + +One morning, not long after this, Hollis and the judge were sitting at +the out-door table, engaged with their fishing-tackle. Hollis was +talking of the approaches of old age. + +"Yes, two sure signs of it are a real liking for getting up early in the +morning, and a promptness in doing little things. Contrariwise, an +impatience with the younger people, who _don't_ do 'em." + +"Stuff!" said the judge. "The younger people are lazy; that's the whole +of it." + +"Yet they do all the important work of the world," Hollis went on; "old +people only potter round. Take Paul, now--he ain't at all keen about +getting up at daylight; in fact, he has a most uncommon genius for +sleep; but, once up, he makes things drive all along the line, I can +tell you. Not the trifles" (here Hollis's voice took a sarcastic tone); +"not what borrowed books must be sent here, nor what small packages left +there; you never saw _him_ pasting slips out of a newspaper in a +blank-book, nor being particular about his ink, with a neat little tray +for pens; the things he concerns himself about are big things: ore +contracts, machinery for the mines, negotiations with thousands of +dollars tacked to the tail of 'em." + +"I dare say," said the judge, with a dry little yawn; "Mr. Tennant is, +without doubt, an excellent accountant." + +The tone of this remark, however, was lost upon Hollis. "That Paul, now, +has done, since I've known him, at least twenty things that I couldn't +have done myself, any one of them, to save my life," he went on; "and +yet I'm no fool. Not that they were big undertakings, like the Suez +Canal or the capture of Vicksburg; but at least they were things _done_, +and completely done. Have you ever noticed how mighty easy it is to +believe that you _could_ do all sorts of things if you only had the +opportunity? The best way, sir, to go on believing that is never to let +yourself try! I once had a lot of that kind of fool conceit myself. But +I know better now; I know that from top to bottom and all round I'm a +failure." + +The judge made no effort to contradict this statement; he changed the +position of his legs a little, by way of answer, so as not to appear too +discourteous. + +"I'm a failure because I always see double," pursued Hollis, +meditatively; "I'm like a stereoscope out of kilter. When I was +practising law, the man I was pitching into always seemed to me to have +his good side; contrariwise, the man I was defending had his bad one; +and rather more bad because my especial business was to make him out a +capital good fellow." + +There was a sound of voices; Paul came through the wood on his way to +the beach, with Cicely; Eve, behind them, was leading Jack. + +"Are you going out again?" said the judge. + +"Yes. Paul can go this morning," Cicely answered. + +"But you were out so long yesterday," said the old man, following them. + +"Open air fatigue is a good fatigue," said Paul, as he lifted Cicely +into one of the canoes. + +The judge had stopped at the edge of the beach; he now went slowly back +into the wood and joined Hollis. + +"Your turn, Miss Bruce," said Paul. And Eve and Jack were placed in a +second canoe. One of the Indians was to paddle it, but he was not quite +ready. Paul and Cicely did not wait; they started. + + "I's a-goin' wis old Eve!--_old_ Eve!--_old_ Eve!" + +chanted Jack, at the top of his voice, to the tune of "Charley is my +darling," which Hollis had taught him. + +"Seems mean that she should have to go with a Chip, when there are white +men round," said Hollis. + +The judge made no reply. + +But Eve at that moment called, "Mr. Hollis, are you busy? If not, +couldn't you come with me instead of this man?" + +Hollis advanced to the edge of the woods and made a bow. "I am +exceedingly pleased to accept. My best respects." He then took off his +coat, and, clucking to the Indian as a sign of dismissal, he got into +the canoe with the activity of a boy, and pushed off. + +It was a beautiful day. The thick woods on the shore were outlined +sharply in the Northern air against the blue sky. Hollis paddled slowly. + +"Why do you keep so far behind the other boat?" said Eve, after a while. + +"That's so; I'm just loafing," answered Hollis. + +"Christopher H., paddle right along," he went on to himself. "You +needn't be so afraid that Paul will grin; he'll understand." + +And Paul did understand. At the end of half an hour, when Eagle Point +was reached, and all had disembarked, he came to Hollis, and stood +beside him for a moment. + +"This canoe is not one of the best," Hollis remarked. + +"No," said Paul. + +"I think we can make it do for a while longer, though," Hollis went on, +examining it more closely. + +"I dare say we can," Paul answered. + +They stood there together for a moment, rapping it and testing it in +various ways; then they separated, perfectly understanding each other. +"I really didn't try to come with her:" this was the secret meaning of +Hollis's remark about the canoe. + +And "I know you didn't," was the signification of Paul's answer. + +Cicely and Eve were sitting on the beach. It was a wild shore, clean, +untouched by man; the pure waters of the lake rolled up and laved its +glistening brown pebbles. Jack ramped up and down against Eve's knees. +"Sing to Jacky--poor, _poor_ Jacky!" he demanded loudly. + +"That child is too depressing with his 'Poor Jacky'!" said Cicely. +"Never say that again, Jack; do you hear?" + +"Poor, _poor_ Jacky!" said the boy immediately, as though he were +irresistibly forced to try the phrase again. + +"He heard some one say it to that parrot in Port aux Pins," explained +Eve. + +"Oh, I shall never be able to govern him!" Cicely answered. + +"Sing to Jacky, Aunty Eve--poor, poor Jacky!" + +And in a low tone Eve began to sing: + + _"'Row the boat, row the boat up to the strand;_ + _Before our door there is dry land._ + _Who comes hither all booted and spurred?_ + _Little Jacky Bruce with his hand on his sword.'"_ + +Paul came up. "Now for a walk," he said to Cicely. + +"I am sorry, Paul. But if I sit here it will be lovely; if I walk, I am +afraid I shall be too tired." + +"I'll stay here, then; I am not at all keen about a tramp." + +"No, please go. And take Eve." + +"Uncly Paul, not _old_ Eve. I want old Eve," announced Jack, reasonably. + +"You don't seem to mind his calling you that," said Paul, laughing. + +"Why should I?" Eve answered. "I don't care for a walk, thanks." + +"Make her go," continued Cicely; "march her off." + +"Will you march?" asked Paul. + +"Not without a drum and fife." + +Jack was now cooing without cessation, and in his most insinuating +tones, "Sing to Jacky--poor, _poor_ Jacky. Sing to Jacky--poor, _poor_ +Jacky!" + +She took him in her arms and walked down the beach with him, going on +with her song in a low tone: + + _"'He knocks at the door and he pulls up the pin,_ + _And he says, "Mrs. Wingfield, is Polly within?"_ + _"Oh, Polly's up-stairs a-sewing her silk."_ + _Down comes Miss Polly as white as milk.'"_ + +"Eve never does what you ask, Paul," remarked Cicely. + +"Do I ask so often?" + +"I wish you would ask her oftener." + +"To be refused oftener?" + +"To gain your point--to conquer her. She is too self-willed--for a +woman." She looked at Paul with a smile. + +The tie between them had become very close, and it was really her +dislike to see him rebuffed, even in the smallest thing, that made her +say, alluding to Eve, "Conquer her; she is too self-willed--for a +woman." + +Paul smiled. "I shall never conquer her." + +"Try, begin now; make her think that you _want_ her to walk with you." + +"But I don't." + +"Can't you pretend?" + +"Why should I?" + +"Well, to please me." + +"You're an immoral little woman," said Paul, laughing. "I'll go; +remember, however, that you sent me." He went up the beach to meet Eve, +who was still walking to and fro, singing to Jack, Hollis accompanying +them after his fashion; that is, following behind, and stopping to skip +a stone carelessly when they stopped. Paul went straight to Eve. "I wish +you would go with me for a walk," he said. He looked at her, his glance, +holding hers, slowly became entreating. The silence between them lasted +an appreciable instant. + +"I will go," said Eve. + +Jack seemed to understand that his supremacy was in danger. "No, old +Eve--no. I want old Eve, Uncly Paul," he said, in his most persuasive +voice. Then, to make himself irresistible, he began singing Eve's song: + + _"'Who pums idder, all booted an' spurred?_ + _Little Jacky Bruce wiz his han' on his sword.'"_ + +Hollis came up. "Were you wanting to go off somewhere? I'll take Jack." + +"Old man, _you_ get out," suggested Jack, calmly. + +"Oh, where does he learn such things?" said Eve. She thought she was +distressed--she meant to be; but there was an undertide of joyousness, +which Hollis saw. + +"On the contrary, Jackum, I'll get in," he answered. "If it's singing +you want, I can sing very beautifully. And I can dance too; looker +here." And skipping across the beach in a Fisher's Horn-pipe step, he +ended with a pigeon's wing. + +Jack, in an ecstasy of delight, sprang up and down in Eve's arms. +"'Gain! 'gain!" he cried, imperiously, his dimpled forefinger pointed at +the dancer. + +Again Hollis executed his high leap. "Now you'll come to me, I guess," +he said. And Jack went readily. "You are going for a walk, I suppose?" +Hollis went on. "There's nothing very much in these woods to make it +lively." He had noted the glow of anticipation in her face, and was glad +that he had contributed to it. But when he turned to Paul, expecting as +usual to see indifference, he did not see it; and instantly his feelings +changed, he felt befooled. + +Jack made prodding motions with his knees. "Dant! dant!" + +"I'll dance in a few minutes, my boy," said Hollis. + +Paul and Eve went up the beach and turned into the wood. It was a +magnificent evergreen forest without underbrush; above, the sunlight was +shut out, they walked in a gray-green twilight. The stillness was so +intense that it was oppressive. + + + + +XIX. + + +They walked for some distance without speaking. "I have just been +writing to Ferdie," Paul said at last. + +The gray-green wood had seemed to Eve like another world, an enchanted +land. Now she was forced back to real life again. "Oh, if he would only +say nothing--just go on without speaking; it's all I ask," she thought. + +"I shall go down there in ten days or so," Paul went on. "Ferdie will be +up then--in all probability well. I shall take him to Charleston, and +from there we shall sail." + +"Sail?" + +"To Norway." + +"Norway?" + +"Didn't I tell you?--I have made up my mind that a long voyage in a +sailing vessel will be the best thing for him just now." + +"And you go too?" + +"Of course." + +"Four or five weeks, perhaps?" + +"Four or five months; as it grows colder, we can come down to the +Mediterranean." + +A chill crept slowly over Eve. "Was it--wasn't it difficult to arrange +for so long an absence?" + +"As Hollis would phrase it, 'You bet it was!'" answered Paul, laughing. +"I shall come back without a cent in either pocket; but I've been +centless before--I'm not terrified." + +"If you would only take some of mine!" + +"You will have Cicely. We shall both have our hands full." + +She looked up at him more happily; they were to be associated together +in one way, then, after all. But a vision followed, a realization of the +blankness that was to come. Less than two weeks and he would be gone! + +"When the journey is over, shall you bring Ferdie to Port aux Pins?" + +"That depends. On the whole, I think not; Ferdie would hate the place; +it's comical what tastes he has--that boy! My idea is that he will do +better in South America; he has already made a beginning there, and +likes the life. This time he can take Cicely with him, and that will +steady him; he will go to housekeeping, he will be a family man." And +Paul smiled; to him, Ferdie was still the lad of fifteen years before. + +But in Eve's mind rose a recollection of the light of a candle far down +a narrow road. "Oh, don't let her go with him! Don't!" + +Paul stopped. "You are sometimes so frightened, I have noticed that. And +yet you are no coward. What happened--really? What did you do?" + +She could not speak. + +"I'm a brute to bother you about it," Paul went on. "But I have always +felt sure that you did more that night than you have ever acknowledged; +Cicely couldn't tell us, you see, because she had fainted. How strange +you look! Are you ill?" + +"It is nothing. Let us walk on." + +"As you please." + +"If they go to South America, why shouldn't you go with them?" he said, +after a while, returning to his first topic. "You will have to go if you +want to keep a hold on Jack, for Cicely will never give him up to you +for good and all, as you have hoped. If you were with them, _I_ should +feel a great deal safer." + +Well, that was something. Was this, then, to be her occupation for the +future--by a watch over Ferdie, to make his brother more comfortable? +She tried to give a sarcastic turn to this idea. But again the feeling +swept over her: Oh, if it had only been any one but Ferdinand +Morrison!--Ferdinand Morrison! + +"How you shuddered!" said Paul. Walking beside her, he had felt her +tremble. "You certainly are ill." + +"No. But don't let us talk of any of those things to-day, let us forget +them." + +"How can we?" + +"_I_ can!" The color rose suddenly in her cheeks; for the moment she was +beautiful. "My last walk with him! When he is gone, the days will be a +blank." + +--"It is my last walk with you!" she said aloud, pursuing the current of +her thoughts. + +He looked at her askance. + +His glance brought her back to reality. She turned and left him; she +walked rapidly towards the lake, coming out on the beach beyond Eagle +Point. + +He followed her, and, as he came up, his eyes took possession of and +held hers, as they had done before; then, after a moment, he put his arm +round her, drew her to him, and bent his face to hers. + +She tried to spring from him. But he still held her. "What shall I say +to excuse myself, Eve?" + +The tones of his voice were very sweet. But he was smiling a little too. +She saw it; she broke from his grasp. + +"You look as though you could kill me!" he said. + +(And she did look so.) + +"Forgive me," he went on; "tell me you don't mind." + +"I should have thought--that what I confessed to you--you know, that +day-- + +But there were no subtleties in Paul. "Why, that was the very reason," +he answered. "What did you tell me for, if you didn't want me to think +of it?" Then he took a lighter tone. "Come, forget it. It was +nothing.--What's one kiss?" + +Eve colored deeply. + +And then, suddenly, Paul Tennant colored too. + +He turned his head away, and his glance, resting on the water, was +stopped by something--a dark object floating. He put up a hand on each +side of his face and looked more steadily. "Yes. No. _Yes!_ There's a +_woman_ out there--lashed to something. I must go out and see." He had +thrown his hat down upon the sand as he spoke; he was hastily taking off +his coat and waistcoat, his shoes and stockings; then he waded out +rapidly, and when the rock shelved off, he began to swim. + +Eve stood watching him mechanically. "He has already forgotten it!" + +Paul reached the dark object. Then, after a short delay, she could see +that he was trying to bring it in. + +But his progress was slow. + +"Oh, there must be something the matter! Perhaps a cramp has seized +him." A terrible impatience took possession of her; it was impossible +for him to hear her, yet she cried to him at the top of her voice, and +fiercely: "Let it go! Let it go, I say! Come in alone. Who cares for it, +whatever it is?" It was not until his burden lay on the beach that she +could turn her mind from him in the least, or think of what he had +brought. + +The burden was a girl of ten, a fair child with golden curls, now heavy +with water; her face was calm, the eyes peacefully closed. She had been +lashed to a plank by somebody's hand--whose? Her father's? Or had it +been done by a sobbing mother, praying, while she worked, that she and +her little daughter might meet again. + +"It's dreadful, when they're so young," said big Paul, bending over the +body reverently to loosen the ropes. He finished his task, and +straightened himself. "A collision or a fire. If it was a fire, they +must have seen it from Jupiter Light." He scanned the lake. "Perhaps +there are others who are not dead; I must have one of the canoes at +once. I'll go by the beach. You had better follow me." He put on his +shoes, and, dripping as he was, he was off again like a flash, running +towards the west at a vigorous speed. + +Eve watched him until he was out of sight. Then she sat down beside the +little girl and began to dry her pretty curls, one by one, with her +handkerchief. Even then she kept thinking, "He has forgotten it!" + +By-and-by--it seemed to her a long time--she saw a canoe coming round +the point. It held but one person--Paul. He paddled rapidly towards her. +"Why didn't you follow me, as I told you to?" he said, almost angrily. +"Hollis has gone back to the camp for more canoes and the Indians; he +took Cicely, and he ought to have taken you." + +"I wanted to stay here." + +"You will be in the way; drowned people are not always a pleasant sight. +Sit where you are, then, since you are here; if I come across anything, +I'll row in at a distance from you." + +He paddled off again. + +But before very long she saw him returning. "Are you really not afraid?" +he asked, as his canoe grated on the beach. + +"No." + +"There's some one out there. But I find I can't lift anything into this +canoe alone--it's so tottlish; I could swim and tow, though, if I had +the canoe as a help. Can you paddle?" + +"Yes." + +"Get in, then." He stepped out of the boat, and she took his place. He +pushed it off and waded beside her until the water came to his chin; +then he began to swim, directing her course by a movement of his head. +She used her paddle very cautiously, now on one side, now on the other, +the whole force of her attention bent upon keeping the little craft +steady. After a while, chancing to raise her eyes, she saw something +dark ahead. Fear seized her, she could not look at it; she felt faint. +At the same moment, Paul left her, swimming towards the floating thing. +With a determined effort at self-control, she succeeded in turning the +canoe, and waited steadily until Paul gave the sign. Keeping her eyes +carefully away from that side, she then started back towards the shore, +Paul convoying his floating freight a little behind her. As they +approached the beach, he made a motion signifying that she should take +the canoe farther down; when she was safely at a distance, he brought +his tow ashore. It was the body of a sailor. The fragment of deck +planking to which he was tied had one end charred; this told the +dreadful tale--fire at sea. + +The sailor was dead, though it was some time before Paul would +acknowledge it. At length he desisted from his efforts. He came down the +beach to Eve, wiping his forehead with his wet sleeve. "No use, he's +dead. I am going out again." + +"I will go with you, then." + +"If you are not too tired?" + +They went out a second time. They saw another dark object half under +water. Again the sick feeling seized her; but she turned the canoe +safely, and they came in with their load. This time, when he dismissed +her, she went back to the little girl, and, landing, sat down; she was +very tired. + +After a while she heard sounds--four canoes coming rapidly round the +point, the Indians using their utmost speed. She rose; Hollis, who was +in the first canoe, saw her, and directed his course towards her. "Why +did you stay here?" he demanded, sternly, as he saw the desolate little +figure of the child. + +Eve began to excuse herself. "I was of use before you came; I went out; +I helped." + +"Paul shouldn't have asked you." + +"He had to; he couldn't do it alone." + +"He shouldn't have asked you." He went off to Paul, and she sat down +again; she took up her task of drying the golden curls. After a while +the sound of voices ceased, and she knew that they had all gone out on +the lake for further search. She went on with what she was doing; but +presently, in the stillness, she began to feel that she must turn and +look; she was haunted by the idea that one of the men who had been +supposed to be dead was stealing up noiselessly to look over her +shoulder. She turned. And then she saw Hollis sitting not far away. + +"Oh, I am so glad you are there!" + +Hollis rose and came nearer, seating himself again quietly. "I thought I +wouldn't leave you all alone." + +She scanned the water. The five canoes were clustered together far out; +presently, still together, they moved in towards the shore. + +"They are bringing in some one else!" + +"Sha'n't we go farther away?" suggested Hollis--"farther towards the +point? I'll go with you." + +"No, I shall stay with this little girl; I do not intend to leave her. +You won't understand this, of course; only a woman would understand it." + +"Oh, I understand," said Hollis. + +But Eve ignored him. "The canoes are keeping all together in a way they +haven't done before. Do you think--oh, it must be that they have got +some one who is _living!_" + +"It's possible." + +"They are holding something up so carefully." She sprang to her feet. "I +am sure I saw it move! Paul has really saved somebody. How _can_ you sit +there, Mr. Hollis? Go and find out!" + +Hollis went. In twenty minutes he came back. + +"Well?" said Eve, breathlessly. + +"Yes, there's a chance for this one; he'll come round, I guess." + +"Paul has saved him." + +"I don't know that he's much worth the saving; he looks a regular +scalawag." + +"How can you say that--a human life!" + +Hollis looked down at the sand, abashed. + +"Couldn't I go over there for a moment?" Eve said, still excitedly +watching the distant group. + +"Better not." + +"Tell me just how Paul did it, then?" she asked. "For of course it was +he, the Indians don't know anything." + +"Well, I can't say how exactly. He brought him in." + +"Isn't he wonderful!" + +"I have always thought him the cleverest fellow I have ever known," +responded poor Hollis, stoutly. + +The next day the little girl, freshly robed and fair, was laid to rest +in the small forest burying-ground belonging to Jupiter Light; Eve had +not left her. There were thirty new mounds there before the record was +finished. + +"Steamer _Mayhew_ burned, Tuesday night, ten miles east Jupiter Light, +Lake Superior. Fifteen persons known to be saved. _Mayhew_ carried +twenty cabin passengers and thirty-five emigrants. Total loss." +(Associated Press despatch.) + +Soon after this the camp was abandoned; as Paul was to go south so soon, +he could not give any more time to forest-life, and they all, therefore, +returned to Port aux Pins together. Once there Paul seemed to have no +thought for anything but his business affairs. And Eve, in her heart, +said again, "He has forgotten!" + + + + +XX. + + +FOURTH OF JULY at Port aux Pins; a brilliant morning with the warm sun +tempering the cool air, and shining on the pure cold blue of the lake. + +At ten o'clock, the cannon began to boom; the guns were planted at the +ends of the piers, and the men of the Port aux Pins Light Artillery held +themselves erect, trying to appear unconscious of the presence of the +whole town behind them, eating peanuts, and criticising. + +The salute over, the piers were deserted, the procession was formed. The +following was the order as printed in the Port aux Pins _Eagle:_ + + "The Marshal of the Day. + + The Goddess of Liberty. (Parthenia Drone.) + + The Clergy. (In carriages.) + + Fire-Engine E. P. Snow. + + The Mayor and Common Council. (In carriages.) + + Hook and Ladder No. 1. + + The Immortal Colonies. (Thirteen little girls in a wagon, + singing the 'Red, White, and Blue.') + + Fire-Engine Leander Braddock. + +The Carnival of Venice. (This was a tableau. It represented the facade +of a Venetian palace, skilfully constructed upon the model of the +Parthenon, with Wolf Roth in an Indian canoe below, playing upon his +guitar. Wolf was attired, as a Venetian, in a turban, a spangled jacket, +high cavalry boots with spurs, and powdered hair; Idora Drone looked +down upon him from a Venetian balcony; she represented a Muse.) + + Reader of the Declaration of Independence, and Orator of + the Day. (In carriages.) + + The Survivors of the War. (On foot with banners.) + + Model of Monument to Our Fallen Heroes. + + The Band. (Playing 'The Sweet By-and-By.') + + Widows of Our Fallen Heroes. (In carriages.) + + Fire-Engine Senator M. P. Hagen. + +The Arts and Sciences. (Represented by the portable printing-press of +the Port aux Pins _Eagle_; wagons from the mines loaded with iron ore; +and the drays, coal-carts, and milk-wagons in a procession, adorned with +streamers of pink tarlatan)." + +Cicely watched the procession from the windows of Paul's office, +laughing constantly. When Hollis passed, sitting stiffly erect in his +carriage--he was the "Reader of the Declaration of Independence"--she +threw a bouquet at him, and compelled him to bow; Hollis was adorned +with a broad scarf of white satin, fastened on the right shoulder with +the national colors. + +"I am going to the public square to hear him read," Cicely announced, +suddenly. "Paul, you must take me. And you must go too, grandpa." + +"I will keep out of the rabble, I think," said the judge. + +"Oh, come on; I dare say you have never heard the thing read through in +your life," suggested Paul, laughing. + +"The Declaration of Independence? My grandfather, sir, was a signer!" + +The one church bell (Baptist) and the two little fire bells were +jangling merrily when they reached the street. People were hurrying +towards the square; many of them were delegates from neighboring towns +who had accompanied their fire-engines to Port aux Pins on this, the +nation's birthday. White dresses were abundant; the favorite refreshment +was a lemon partially scooped out, the hollow filled with lemon candy. +When they reached the square Paul established Cicely on the top of a +fence, standing behind to steady her; and presently the procession +appeared, wheeling slowly in, and falling into position in a half-circle +before the main stand, the gayly decorated fire-engines in front, with +the Carnival of Venice and the Goddess of Liberty, one at each end. The +clergy, the mayor and common council, the orator of the day, were +escorted to their places on the stand, and the ceremonies opened. +By-and-by came the turn of Hollis. In a high voice he began: + +"When in the _course_--of human _events_, it becomes necessary for one +people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with +_another_--" + +"Cheer!" whispered Cicely to Paul. + +Paul, entering into it, set up hurrahs with so much vigor that all the +people near him joined in patriotically, to the confusion of the reader, +who went on, however, as well as he could: + +"We hold these _truths_--to be self-_evident_, that all men are created +_equal_--" + +"Again," murmured Cicely. + +And again Paul's corner burst forth irrepressibly, followed after a +moment by the entire assemblage, glad to be doing something in a vocal +way on their own account, and determined to have their money's worth of +everything, noise and all. + +And so, from "the present king of Great Britain" to "our lives, our +forrchuns, and our sacrred _honor_" on it went, a chorus of hurrahs +growing louder and louder until they became roars. + +"I knew it was you," Hollis said to Paul, when, later, his official +duties over, and his satin scarf removed, he appeared at the cottage to +talk it over. + +"But say, did you notice the widows of our fallen heroes? They had a +sort of glare under their crape. You see, once we had eight of 'em, but +this year there is only one left; all the rest have married again. Now +it happens that this very year the Soldiers' Monument is done at last, +and naturally the committee wanted the widows to ride in the procession. +The one widow who was left declared that she would not ride all alone; +she said it would look as though no one had asked her, whereas she had +had at least three good offers. So the committee went to the others and +asked them to dress up as former widows, just for to-day. So they did; +and lots of people cried when they came along, two and two, all in +black, so pathetic." He sprang up to greet Eve, who was entering, and +the foot-board entangled itself with his feet, after the peculiarly +insidious fashion of extension-chairs. "Instrument of torture!" he said, +grinning. + +"I will leave it to you in my will," declared Paul. "And it is just as +well to say it now, before witnesses, because I am going away +to-morrow." + +"To-morrow!" said Cicely. + +"Only to Lakeville on business. I shall be back the day before I start +south." + +"There go the last few hours!" thought Eve. + +The third evening after, Hollis came up the path to Paul's door. The +judge, Eve, Cicely, and Porley with Jack, were sitting on the steps, +after the Port aux Pins fashion. They had all been using their best +blandishments to induce Master Jack to go to bed; but that young +gentleman refused; he played patty-cake steadily with Porley, looking at +the others out of the corner of his eye; and if Porley made the least +attempt to rise, he set up loud bewailings, with his face screwed, but +without a tear. It was suspected that these were pure artifice; and not +one of his worshippers could help admiring his sagacity. They altogether +refrained from punishing it. + +"I was at the post-office, so I thought I'd just inquire for you," said +Hollis. "There was only one letter; it's for Miss Bruce." + +Eve took the letter and put it in her pocket. She had recognized the +handwriting instantly. + +Hollis, who also knew the handwriting, began to praise himself in his +own mind as rapidly as he could for bringing it. "It was a good thing to +do, and a kind thing; you must manage jobs like that for her often, C. +Hollis. Then you'll be sure that you ain't, yourself, a plumb fool. She +doesn't open it? Of course she doesn't. Sit down, and stop your jawing!" + +Eve did not open her letter until she reached her own room. It was +eleven o'clock; when she was safely behind her bolted door, she took it +from its envelope and read it. She read it and re-read it; holding it in +her hand, she pondered over it. She was standing by the mantelpiece +because her lamp was there. After a while she became half conscious that +the soles of her feet were aching; she bore it some time longer, still +half consciously. When it was one o'clock she sat down. The letter was +as follows: + + "DEAR EVE,--Now that I am away from her, I can see that Cicely is + not so well as we have thought. All that laughing yesterday morning + wasn't natural; I am afraid that she will break down completely + when I start south. So I write to suggest that you take her off for + a trip of ten days or so; you might go to St. Paul. Then she + needn't see me at all, and it really would be better. + + "As to seeing you again-- + + "Yours sincerely, PAUL TENNANT." + +"Why did he write, 'As to seeing you again,' and then stop? What was it +that he had intended to say, and why did he leave it unfinished? 'As to +seeing you again--' Supposing it had been, 'As to seeing you again, I +dread it!' But no, he would never say that; he doesn't dread +anything--me least of all! Probably it was only, 'As to seeing you +again, there would be nothing gained by it; it would be for such a short +time.'" + +But imagination soon took flight anew. "Possibly, remembering that day +in the wood, he was going to write, 'As to seeing you again, do you wish +to see me? Is it really true that you care for me a little? It was so +brave to tell it! A petty spirit could never have done it.' But no, that +is not what he would have thought; he likes the other kind of +women--those who do not tell." She laid her head down upon her arms. + +Presently she began again: "He had certainly intended to write something +which he found himself unable to finish; the broken sentence tells that. +What could it have been? Any ordinary sentence, like, 'As to seeing you +again, it is not necessary, as you know already my plans,'--if it had +been anything like that, he _would_ have finished it; it would have been +easy to do so. No; it was something different. Oh, if it could only have +been, 'As to seeing you again, I _must_ see you, it must be managed in +some way; I cannot go without a leave-taking!'" She sat up; her eyes +were now radiant and sweet. Their glance happened to fall upon her +watch, which was lying, case open, upon the table. Four o'clock. "I have +sat here all night! I am losing my wits." She undressed rapidly, +angrily. Clad in white, she stood brushing her hair, her supple figure +taking, all unconsciously, enchanting postures as she now held a long +lock at arm's-length, and now, putting her right hand over her shoulder, +brushed out the golden mass that fell from the back of her head to her +knees. "But he must have intended to write something unusual, even if +not of any of the things I have been thinking of; then he changed his +mind. That is the only solution of his leaving it unfinished--the only +possible solution." This thought still filled her heart when daylight +came. + +The evening before, sitting in the bar-room of the Star Hotel, +Lakeville, Paul had written his letter. He had got as far as, "Then she +needn't see me at all, and it really would be better. As to seeing you +again," when a voice said, "Hello, Tennant!--busy?" + +"Nothing important," replied Paul, pushing back the sheet of paper. + +The visitor shook hands; then he seated himself, astride, on one of the +bar-room chairs, facing the wooden back, which he hugged tightly. He had +come to talk about Paul's Clay County iron; he had one or two ideas +about it which he thought might come to something. + +Paul, too, thought that they might come to something when he heard what +they were. He was excited; he began to jot down figures on the envelope +which he had intended for Eve. Finally he and the new-comer went out +together; before going he put the letter in his pocket. + +When he came in, it was late. "First mail to Port aux Pins?" he +inquired. + +"Five o'clock to-morrow morning," replied the drowsy waiter. + +"Must finish it to-night, then," he thought. He took out the crumpled +sheet, and, opening it, read through what he had written. "What was it I +was going to add?" He tried to recall the train of thought. But he was +sleepy (as Hollis said, Paul had a genius for sleep); besides, his mind +was occupied by the new business plan. "I haven't the slightest idea +what I was going to say.--A clear profit of fifty thousand in four +years; that isn't bad. Ferdie will need a good deal. Ye-ough!" (a yawn). +"What _was_ it I was going to say?--I can't imagine. Well, it couldn't +have been important, in any case. I'll just sign it, and let it go." So +he wrote, "Yours sincerely, Paul Tennant;" and went to bed. + + + + +XXI. + + +PAUL came back to Port aux Pins five days before the time of his +departure for the South. Cicely was still there. She had refused to go +to St. Paul. "The only Paul I care for is the one here. What an i-dea, +Eve, that I should choose just this moment for a trip! It looks as +though you were trying to keep me away from him." + +"I'm not trying; it's Paul," Eve might have answered. + +"It must be curious to be such a cold sort of person as you are," Cicely +went on, looking at her. "You have only one feeling that ever gives you +any trouble, haven't you? That's anger." + +"I am never angry with you," Eve answered, with the humility which she +always showed when Cicely made her cutting little speeches. + +Paul had been right. As the time of his departure for Romney drew near, +Cicely grew restless. She was seized with fits of wild weeping. At last, +when there were only two days left, Paul proposed a drive--anything to +change, even if only upon the surface, the current of her thoughts. "We +will go to Betsy Lake, and pay a visit to the antiquities." + +The mine at Betsy Lake--the Lac aux Becs-Scies of the early Jesuit +explorers--had been abandoned. Recently traces of work there in +prehistoric times had been discovered, with primitive tools which +excited interest in the minds of antiquarians. The citizens of Port aux +Pins were not antiquarians; they said "Mound Builders;" and troubled +themselves no more about it. + +"We had better spend the night at the butter-woman's," Paul suggested. +"It is too far for one day." + +Eve did not go with the party. They had started at three o'clock, +intending to visit a hill from which there was an extensive view, before +going on to the butter-woman's farm-house. At four she herself went out +for a solitary walk. + +As she was passing a group of wretched shanties, beyond the outskirts of +the town, a frightened woman came out of one of them, calling loudly, +"Mrs. Halley! oh, Mrs. _Halley_, your _Lyddy is dying!_" + +A second woman, who was hanging out clothes, dropped the garment she had +in her hand and ran within; Eve followed her. A young girl, who appeared +to be in a spasm, occupied the one bed, a poor one; the mother rushed +to her. In a few minutes the danger was over, and the girl fell into a +heavy sleep. + +"That Mrs. Sullivan--she's too sprightly," said Mrs. Halley, after she +had dismissed her frightened neighbor. "I just invited her to sit here +_trenquilly_ while I put out me clothes, when lo! she begins and screams +like mad. She's had no education, that's plain. There's nothing the +matter with my Lyddy except that she's delicate, and as soon as she's a +little better I'm going to have her take music lessons on the peanner." + +Eve looked at Mrs. Halley's ragged, wet dress, and at the wan, pinched +face of the sleeping girl. "It is a pity you have to leave her," she +said. "Couldn't you get somebody to do your washing?" + +"I take in washing, miss; I'm a lady-laundress. Only the best; I never +wash for the boats." + +"How much do you earn a week?" + +"Oh, a tidy sum," answered Mrs. Halley. Then, seeing that Eve had taken +out her purse, her misery overcame her pride, and she burst forth, +suddenly: "_Never_ more than three dollars, miss, with me slaving from +morning to night. And I've five children besides poor Lyddy there." + +Eve gave her a five-dollar bill. + +"Oh, may the Lord bless you!" she began to cry. "And me with me skirt +all wet, and the house not clean, when the chariot of the Lord descended +upon me!" She sank into a chair, her toil-worn hands over her face, her +tired back bent forward, relaxed at last, and resting. + +Eve pursued her investigations; she sent a boy to town for provisions, +and waited to see a meal prepared. Mrs. Halley, still wet and ragged, +but now refreshed by joy, moved about rapidly; at last there was nothing +more to do but to sit down and wait. "She was the prettiest of all my +children," she remarked, indicating the sleeping girl with a motion of +her head. + +"She is still pretty," Eve answered. + +"Yet you never saw _her_ making eyes at gentlemen like some; there's a +great deal of making eyes at Potterpins. Rose Bonham, now--she got a +silk dress out of Mr. Tennant no longer ago as last March." + +"Mr. Tennant?" + +"Yes; the gentleman who superintends the mine. Not that I have anything +to say against him; gentlemen has their priviluges. All I say +is--_girls_ hasn't!" + +Eve had risen. "I must go; I will come again soon." + +"Oh, miss," said the woman, dropping her gossip, and returning to her +gratitude (which was genuine)--"oh, miss, mayn't I know your name? I +want to put it in me prayers. There was just three cents in the house, +miss, when you came; and Lyddy she couldn't eat the last meal I got for +her--a cracker and a piece of mackerel." + +"You can pray for me without a name," said Eve, going out. + +She felt as though there were hot coals in her throat, she could +scarcely breathe. She went towards the forest, and, entering it by a +cart-track, walked rapidly on. Rose Bonham was the daughter of the +butter-woman. Bonham had a forest farm about five miles from Port aux +Pins on the road to Betsy Lake, and his wife kept Paul's cottage +supplied with butter. Eve had seen the daughter several times; she was a +very beautiful girl. Eve and Cicely thought her bold; but the women who +eat the butter are apt to think so of those who bring it, if the +bringers have sparkling eyes, peach-like complexions, and the gait of +Hebe. + +And Paul himself had suggested the spending the night there--an entirely +unnecessary thing--under the pretence of gaining thereby an earlier +start in the morning. + +She came to a little pool of clear water; pausing beside it, half +unconsciously, she beheld the reflection of her face in its mirror, and +something seemed to say to her, "What is your education, your culture, +your senseless pride worth, when compared with the peach-like bloom of +that young girl?" Her own image looked up at her, pale, cold, and stern; +it did not seem to her to have a trace of beauty. She took a stone, and, +casting it in the pool, shattered the picture. "I wish I were beautiful +beyond words! I _could_ be beautiful if I had everything; if nothing but +the finest lace ever touched me, if I never raised my hand to do +anything for myself, if I had only dainty and delicate and beautiful +things about me, I should be beautiful--I know I should. Bad women have +those things, they say; why haven't they the best of it?" + +She began to walk on again. She had not given much thought to the +direction her steps were taking; now it came to her that the road to +Lake Betsy, and therefore to Bonham's, was not far away, and she crossed +the wood towards it. When she reached it, she turned towards Bonham's. +Five miles. It was now after five o'clock. + +When she came in sight of the low roof and scattered out-buildings a +sudden realization of what she was doing came to her, and she stopped. +Why was she there? If they should see her, any of them, what would they +think? What could she say? As though they were already upon her, she +took refuge hastily behind the high bushes with which the road was +bordered. "Oh, what have I come here for? Humiliating! Let me get back +home!--let me get back home!" She returned towards Port aux Pins by the +fields, avoiding the road; the shadows were dense now; it was almost +night. + +She had gone more than a mile when she stopped. An irresistible force +impelled her, and she retraced her steps. When she reached Bonham's the +second time, lights were shining from the windows. The roughly-built +house rose directly from the road. Blinds and curtains were evidently +considered superfluous. With breathless eagerness she drew near; the +evening was cool, and the windows were closed; through the small +wrinkled panes she could distinguish a wrinkled Cicely, a wrinkled +judge, a Hollis much askew, and a Paul Tennant with a dislocated jaw; +they were playing a game. After some moments she recognized that it was +whist; she almost laughed aloud, a bitter laugh at herself; she had +walked five miles to see a game of whist. + +A dog barked, she turned away and began her long journey homeward. + +But the thought came to her, and would not leave her. "After the game is +over, and the others have gone to bed, he will see that girl somehow!" + +She did not find the road a long one. Passion made it short, a passion +of jealous despair. + +Reaching the town at last, she passed an ephemeral ice-cream saloon with +a large window; seated within, accompanied by a Port aux Pins youth of +the hobbledehoy species, was Rose Bonham, eating ice-cream. + +The next evening at six the excursion party returned. At seven they were +seated at the tea-table. The little door-bell jangled loudly in the near +hall, there was a sound of voices; Paul, who was nearest the door, rose +and went to see what it was. + +After a long delay he came back and looked in. They had all left the +table, and Cicely had gone to her room; Paul beckoned Eve out silently. +His face had a look that made her heart stop beating; in the narrow +hall, under the small lamp, he gave her, one by one, three telegraphic +despatches, open. + + _The first:_ "_Monday._ + "Break it to Cicely. Dear Ferdie died at dawn. + "SABRINA ABERCROMBIE." + + _The second:_ _"Monday._ + "Morrison died this morning. Telegraph your wishes. + "EDWARD KNOX, M.D." + + _The third:_ "Wednesday._ + + "Morrison buried this afternoon. Address me, Charleston + Hotel, Charleston. + "EDWARD KNOX, M.D." + +"I ought to have had them two days ago," said Paul. He stood with his +lips slightly apart looking at her, but without seeing her or seeing +anything. + + + + +XXII. + + + "Up the airy mountain, + Down the rushy glen, + We daren't go a-hunting, + For fear of little men: + Wee folk, good folk, + Trooping all together; + Green jacket, red cap, + And white owl's feather!" + +So, in a sweet little thread of a voice, sang Cicely; her tones, though +clear, were so faint that they seemed to come from far away. She was +sitting in an easy-chair, with pillows behind her, her hands laid on the +arms of the chair, her feet on a footstool. Her eyes wandered over the +opposite wall, and presently she began again, beating time with her hand +on the arm of the chair: + + "Down along the rocky shore + Some make their home; + They live on crispy pancakes + Of yellow tide foam; + Some in the reeds + Of the black mountain lake, + With frogs for their watch-dogs, + All night awake--awake." + +She laughed. + +The judge left the room. He walked on tiptoe; but he might have worn +hobnailed shoes, and made all the noise possible--Cicely would not have +noticed it. "I can't stand it!" he said to Paul, outside. + +"How it must feel--to be as stiff and old as that!" was the thought +that passed through the younger man's mind. For the judge's features +were no longer able to express the sorrows that lay beneath; even while +speaking his despair his face remained immovable, like a mask. + +"But it's merciful, after all," Paul had answered, aloud. + +"Merciful?" + +"Yes. Come to my room and I'll tell you why." + +Straw was laid down before Paul's cottage. Within, all was absolutely +quiet; even little Jack had been sent away. He had been sent to Hollis, +who was taking care of him so elaborately, with so many ingenious +devices for his entertainment, that Porley was wildly idle; there was +nothing for her to do. + +Standing beside the white-pine table in Paul's bare bedroom, the two men +held their conference. Paul's explanation lasted three minutes. "Ferdie +was entangled with her long before he ever saw Cicely," he concluded, +"and he always liked her; that was her hold upon him--he liked her, and +she knew it; he didn't drop her even after he was married." + +From the rigid old face there came a hot imprecation. + +"Let him alone--will you?--now he's dead," suggested Paul, curtly. "I +don't suppose that you yourself have been so immaculate all your life +that you can afford to set up as a pattern?" + +"But my wife, sir--Nothing ever touched her." + +"You mean that you arranged things so that she shouldn't know. All +decent men do that, I suppose, and Ferdie didn't in the least intend +that Cicely should know, either. He told her to stay here; if she had +persisted in going down there against his wish, and against his +arrangements also, fancy what she would have put her head into! I +couldn't let her do that, of course. But though I told her enough to +give her some clew, she hadn't the least suspicion of the whole truth, +and now she need never know." + +"She won't have time, she's dying," answered the grandfather. + +Cicely's state was alarming. A violent attack of brain-fever had been +followed by the present condition of comparative quiet; she recognized +no one; much of the time she sang to herself gayly. The doctor feared +that the paroxysms would return. They had been terrible to witness; Paul +had held her, and he had exerted all the force of his strong arms to +keep her from injuring herself, her fragile little form had thrown +itself about so wildly, like a bird beating its life out against the +bars of its cage. + +No one in this desolate cottage had time to think of the accumulation of +troubles that had come upon them: the silence, broken only by Cicely's +strange singing, the grief of Paul for his brother, the dumb despair of +the old man, the absence of little Jack, the near presence of Death. But +of the four faces, that of Eve expressed the deepest hopelessness. She +stayed constantly in the room where Cicely was, but she did nothing; +from the first she had not offered to help in any way, and the doctor, +seeing that she was to be of no use, had sent a nurse. On the fourth +day, Paul said: "You must have some sleep, Eve. Go to your room; I will +have you called if she grows worse." + +"No; I must stay here." + +"Why? There is nothing for you to do." + +"You mean that I do nothing. I know it; but I must stay." + +On the seventh evening he spoke again; Cicely's quiet state had now +lasted twenty-four hours. "Lying on a lounge is no good, Eve; to-night +you must go to bed. Otherwise we shall have you breaking down too." + +"Do I look as though I should break down?" + +They had happened to meet in the hall outside of Cicely's door; the +sunset light, coming through a small window, flooded the place with +gold. + +"If you put it in that way, I must say you do not." + +"I knew it. I am very strong." + +"You speak as though you regretted it." + +"I do regret it." She put out her hand to open the door.--"Don't think +that I am trying to be sensational," she pleaded. + +"All I think is that you are an obstinate girl; and one very much in +need of rest, too." + +Her eyes filled, he had spoken as one speaks to a tired child; but she +turned her head so that he should not see her face, and left him, +entering Cicely's room, and closing the door behind her; her manner and +the movement, as he saw them, were distinctly repellent. + +Cicely did not notice her entrance; the nurse, who had some knitting in +her hand in order not to appear too watchful, but who in reality saw the +rise and fall of her patient's every breath, was near. Eve went to the +place where she often sat--a chair partially screened by the projection +of a large wardrobe; she could see only a towel-stand opposite, and the +ingrain carpet, in ugly octagons of red and green, at her feet. The +silence was profound. + +"I am a murderer, it is a murderer who is sitting here. If people only +knew! But it is enough for _me_ to know. + +--"They said he was getting better. Instead of that he is dead,--he is +dead, and I shot him; I lifted the pistol and fired. At the time it +didn't seem wrong. But this is what it means to kill, I suppose;--this +awful agony. + +--"I have never been one of the afraid kind. I wish now that I had been; +then this wouldn't have happened; the baby might have been horribly +hurt, Cicely too; but at least I shouldn't have been a murderer. For if +you kill you _are_ a murderer, no matter whether the person you kill is +good or bad, or what you do it for; you have killed some one, you have +made his life come to a sudden stop, and for that you must take the +responsibility. + +--"Oh, God! it is too dreadful! I cannot bear it. Sometimes, when I have +been unhappy, I have waked and found it was only a dream; couldn't +_this_ be a dream? + +--"I was really going to tell, I was going to tell Cicely. But I thought +I would wait until he was well--as every one said he would be soon--so +that she wouldn't hate me quite so much. If she should die without +coming to her senses, I shouldn't be able to tell her. + +--"Hypocrite! even to myself. In reality I don't want her to come to her +senses; I have sat here for days, afraid to leave her, watching every +moment lest she should begin to talk rationally. For then I should have +to tell her; and she would tell Paul. Oh, I cannot have him know--I +_cannot._" + +Made stupid by her misery, she sat gazing at the floor, her eyes fixed, +her lips slightly apart. + +She was exhausted; for the same thoughts had besieged her ever since she +had read the despatch, "Morrison died this morning,"--an unending +repetition of exactly the same sentences, constantly following each +other, and constantly beginning again; even in sleep they continued, +like a long nightmare, so that she woke weeping. And now without a +moment's respite, while she sat there with her eyes on the carpet, the +involuntary recital began anew: "I am a murderer, it is a murderer who +is sitting here. If people only knew!" + + "They may rail at this life; from the hour I began it + I've found it a life full of kindness and bliss; + And until you can show me some happier planet, + More social, more gay, I'll content me with this," + +chanted Cicely, sweetly. + +"The song of last Christmas at Romney," Eve's thoughts went on. "Oh, how +changed I am since then--how changed! That night I thought only of my +brother. Now I have almost forgotten him;--Jack, do you care? All I +think of is Paul, Paul, Paul. How beautiful it was in that gray-green +wood! But what am I dreaming about? How can the person who killed his +brother be anything to him? + +--"Once he said--he told me himself--'I care for Ferdie more than for +anything in the world.' It's Ferdie I have killed. + +--"'Morrison buried this afternoon. Address me Charleston Hotel, +Charleston.' He put those despatches in his pocket and went into the +back room. He sat down by the table, and laid his head upon his arms. +His shoulders shook, I know he was crying, he was crying for his +brother. Oh, I will go down-stairs and tell him the whole; I will go +this moment." She rose. + +On the stairs she met the judge. "Is she worse?" he asked, alarmed at +seeing her outside of the room. + +"No; the same." + +She found Paul in the lower hall. "Is she worse?" he said. + +"No. How constantly you think of her!" + +"Of course." + +"Can I speak to you for a moment?" She led the way to the small back +room where he had sat with his head on his arms. "I want to tell you--" +she began. Then she stopped. + +His face had a worn look, his eyes were dull--a dullness caused by +sorrow and the pressure of care. But to her, as he stood there, he was +supreme, her whole heart went out to him. "How I love him!" The feeling +swept over her like a flood, overwhelming everything else. + +"What is it you wish to tell me?" Paul asked, seeing that she still +remained silent. + +"How can I do it!--how can I do it!" she said to herself. + +"Don't tell me, then, if it troubles you," he added, his voice taking +the kindly tones she dreaded. + +Her courage vanished. "Another time," she said hurriedly, and, turning, +she left the room. + +But as she went up the stairs she knew that there would be no other +time. "Never! never! I shall never tell him. What do I care for +truthfulness, or courage, compared with one word of his spoken in that +tone!" + + + + +XXIII. + + +MISS SABRINA'S first letters had been so full of grief that they had +been vague; to her there had been but the one fact: Ferdie was dead. + +She had become much attached to him. There was nothing strange in this; +both as boy and as man, Ferdinand Morrison had been deeply loved by +many. The poor woman knew his fault (she thought it his only one), for +the judge had written an account of all that had happened, and the +reasons for Cicely's flight. Nevertheless she loved this prodigal as the +prodigal is often so dearly loved by the woman whose heart is pierced +the most deeply by his excesses--his mother. And Miss Sabrina, as +regarded her devotion, might indeed have been Ferdie's mother; something +in him roused the dormant maternal feeling--the maternal passion--which +existed in her heart unknown to herself. She did not comprehend what it +was that was disturbing her so much, and yet at the same time making her +so happy--she did not comprehend that it was stifled nature asserting +itself at this late day; the circumstances of her life had made her a +gentle, conciliatory old maid; she was not in the least aware that as a +mother she could have been a tigress in the defence of her sons. For she +was a woman who would have rejoiced in her sons; daughters would never +have been important to her. + +She thought that she was perfectly reasonable about Ferdie. No, Cicely +must not come back to him for the present; baby too--darling little +boy!--he must be kept away; and oh! how terrible that flight through the +woods, and the escape in the boat; she thought of it every night with +tremors. Yet, in spite of all, she loved the man who had caused these +griefs. His illness made him dependent upon her, and his voice calling +her name in peremptory tones, like those of a spoiled child--this was +the sweetest sound her ears had ever heard. He would reform, all her +hopes and plans were based upon that; she went about with prayer on her +lips from morning till night--prayer for him. + +When his last breath had been drawn, it seemed to her as if the daily +life of the world must have stopped too, outside of the darkened +chamber; as if people could not go on eating and drinking, and the sun +go on shining, with Ferdie dead. She was able to keep her place at the +head of the household until after the funeral; then she became the prey +of an illness which, though quiet and unobtrusive, like everything else +connected with her, was yet sufficiently persistent to confine her to +her bed. Nanny Singleton, who had come to Romney every day, rowed by +Boliver, now came again, this time to stay; she took possession of the +melancholy house, re-established order after her inexact fashion, and +then devoted herself to nursing her friend. + +Two of Nanny Singleton's letters. + +Letter number one: + + + "ROMNEY, _Friday evening._ + + "DEAR JUDGE,--I feel that we have been very remiss in + not sending to you sooner the details of this heart-breaking + event. But we have been so afflicted ourselves with the unexpectedness + of it all, with the funeral, and with dear Sabrina's + illness, that we have been somewhat negligent. We feel, + Rupert and I, that we have lost not only one who was personally + dear to us, but also the most fascinating, the most brilliant, + the most thoroughly engaging young man whom it has + ever been our good-fortune to meet. Such a death is a public + calamity, and you, his nearest and dearest, must admit us + (as well as many, many others) to that circle of mourning + friends who esteemed him highly, admired him inexpressibly, + and loved him sincerely for the unusually charming qualities + he possessed. + + "Our dearest Sabrina told us all the particulars the morning + after his death, for of course we came directly to her as + soon as we heard what had happened. He had been making, + as you probably know, a visit in Savannah; Dr. Knox had + accompanied him, or perhaps it was that he joined him there; + at any rate, it was Dr. Knox who brought him home. It + seems that he had overestimated his strength--so natural in + a young man!--and he arrived much exhausted; so much so, + indeed, that the doctor thought it better that dear Sabrina + should not see him that evening. And the next day she only + saw him once, and from across the room; he was alarmingly + pale, and did not open his eyes; Dr. Knox said that he must + not try to speak. It was the next morning at dawn that the + doctor came to her door and told Powlyne to waken her. + (But she was not asleep.) 'He is going, if you wish to come;' + this was all he said. Dear Sabrina, greatly agitated, threw + on her wrapper over her night-dress, and hastened to the bedside + of the dear boy. He lay in a stupor, he did not know + her; and in less than half an hour his breath ceased. She + prayed for him during the interval, she knelt down and prayed + aloud; it was a wonder that she had the strength to do it + when a soul so dear to her was passing. When it had taken + flight, she closed his eyes, and made all orderly about him. + And she kissed him for Cicely, she told me. + + "The funeral she arranged herself in every detail. Receiving + no replies to her despatches to you, she was obliged + to use her own judgment; she had confessed to me in the beginning + that she much wished to have him buried here at + Romney, in the little circle of her loved ones, and not hearing + from you to the contrary, she decided to do this; he lies beside + your brother Marmaduke. Our friends came from all + the islands near and far; there must have been sixty persons + in all, many bringing flowers. Dr. Knox stayed with us until + after the funeral--that is, until day before yesterday; then + he took his leave of us, and went to Charleston by the evening + boat. He seems a most excellent young man. And if he + strikes us as a little cold, no doubt it is simply that, being a + Northerner, and not a man of much cultivation, he could not + appreciate fully Ferdie's very remarkable qualities. Dear old + Dr. Daniels, who has been in Virginia for several weeks, has + now returned; he comes over every day to see Sabrina. He + tells me that her malady is intermittent fever--a mild form; + the only point is to keep her strength up, and this we endeavor + to do with chickens. I will remain here as long as I + can be of the slightest service, and you may rest assured that + everything possible is being done. + + "I trust darling Cicely is not burdened by the many letters + we have written to her--my own four, and Rupert's three, + as well as those of her other friends on the islands about here. + All wished to write, and we did not know how to say no. + + "With love to Miss Bruce, I am, dear judge, your attached + and sorrowing friend, NANNY SINGLETON." + +Letter number two: + + "ROMNEY, _Saturday Morning._ + + "MY DEAR MR. TENNANT,--My husband has just received + your letter, and as he is much crippled by his rheumatism this + morning, he desires me to answer it immediately, so that there + may be no delay. + + "We both supposed that Dr. Knox had written to you. + Probably while he was here there were so many things to + take up his time that he could not; and I happen to know + that as soon as he reached Charleston, day before yesterday, + he was met by this unexpected proposition to join a private + yacht for a cruise of several months; one of the conditions + was that he was to go on board immediately (they sailed the + same evening), and I dare say he had time for nothing but + his own preparations, and that you will hear from him later. + My husband says, however, that he can give you all the details + of the case, which was a simple one. Your brother overestimated + his strength, he should not have attempted that + journey to Savannah; it was too soon, for his wound had + not healed, and the fatigue brought on a dangerous relapse, + from which he could not rally. He died from the effects of + that cruel shot, Mr. Tennant; his valuable life has fallen a + sacrifice (in my husband's opinion) to the present miserable + condition of our poor State, where the blacks, our servants, + who are like little children and need to be led as such,--where + these poor ignorant creatures are put over us, their former + masters; are rewarded with office; are intrusted with dangerous + weapons--a liberty which in this case has proved fatal + to one of the higher race. It seems to my husband as if the + death of Ferdinand Morrison should be held up as a marked + warning to the entire North; this very superior, talented, and + engaging young man has fallen by the bullet of a negro, and + my husband says that in his opinion the tale should be told + everywhere, on the steps of court-houses and in churches, and + the question should be solemnly asked, Shall such things continue? + --shall + the servant rule his lord? + + "We are much alarmed by the few words in Judge Abercrombie's + letter (received this morning) concerning our darling + Cicely, and we beg you to send us a line daily. Or perhaps + Miss Bruce would do it, knowing our anxiety? I pray that + the dear child, whom we all so fondly love, may be better very + soon; but I will be anxious until I hear. + + "As I sent a long letter to the judge last evening, I will + not add more to this. Our sympathy, dear Mr. Tennant, + with your irreparable loss is heartfelt; you do not need our + assurances of that, I know. + + "Mr. Singleton desires me to present his respects. And I + beg to remain your obedient servant, N. SINGLETON." + + + + +XXIV. + + +Midsummer at Port aux Pins. The day was very hot; there was no feeling +of dampness, such as belongs sometimes to the lower-lake towns in the +dog-days, up here the air remained dry and clear and pure; but the +splendid sunshine had almost the temperature of flame; it seemed as if +the miles of forest must take fire, as from a burning-glass. + +Eve stood at the open window of Paul's little parlor. A figure passed in +the road outside, but she did not notice it. Reappearing, it opened the +gate and came in. "Many happy returns--of cooler weather! We ought to +pity the Eyetalians; what must their sufferings be on such a day as +this!" + +Eve gazed at the speaker unseeingly. Then recognition arrived;--"Oh, Mr. +Hollis." + +Hollis came into the house; he joined her in the parlor. "My best +respects. Can't help thinking of the miserable Eyetalians." Eve made no +reply. "Just heard a piece of news," Hollis went on. "Paul has sold his +Clay County iron. He would have made five times as much by holding on. +But he has been so jammed lately by unexpected demands made upon him +that he had no other course; all his brother's South American +speculations have come to grief, and the creditors have come down on +_him_ like a thousand of brick!" + +"Will he have to pay much?" asked Eve, her lassitude gone. + +"More than he's got," answered Hollis, putting his hands still more +deeply into his trousers pockets, his long, lean, fish-like figure +projecting itself forward into space from the sixth rib. "I don't get +this from Paul, you may depend; _he_ don't blab. But the law sharks who +came up here to get hold of whatever they could (for you see Paul has +always been a partner in his brother's enterprises, so that gives 'em a +chance), these scamps talked to me some. So I know. But even the sale of +his Clay County iron won't clear Paul--he will have to guarantee other +debts; it will take him years to clear it all off, unless he has +something better than his present salary to do it with." + +"You ought to have told me. I have money." + +"I guess he wouldn't take it. He's had pretty hard lines all round; he +wanted terribly bad to go straight to Ferdie, as soon as he heard he was +shot. But Mrs. Morrison--she had come here, you know; and he had all +Ferdie's expenses to think of too, so that kept him grinding along. But +he wanted awfully to go; he thought the world and all of Ferdie." + +"I know he did," said Eve. And now her face was like a tragic +mask--deadly white, with a frown, the eyes under her straight brows +looking at him fixedly. + +"Oh, eheu!" thought Hollis distressfully, disgustedly. "You screw +yourself up to tell her all these things about him, because you think it +will please her; and _this_ is the way she takes 'em!" + +He looked at her again; she gave no sign. Feeling painfully +insignificant and helpless, he turned and left the room. + +A few minutes later Paul came in. "You have sold your Clay County iron!" +said Eve. + +"I have always intended to sell it." + +"Not at a sacrifice." + +"One does as one can--a business transaction." + +"How much money have you sent to your brother all these years?" + +"I don't know that it is--I don't know what interest you can have in +it," Paul answered. + +"You mean that it is not my business. Oh, don't be so hard! Say three +words just for once." + +"Why, I'll say as many as you like, Eve. Ferdie was one of the most +brilliant fellows in the world; if he had lived, all his investments +would have turned out finely, he was sure of a fortune some time." + +"And, in the meanwhile, you supported him; you have always done it." + +"You are mistaken. I advanced him money now and then when he happened to +be short, but it was always for the time being only; he would have paid +me back if he had lived." + +The door opened, and the judge came in. "I'm glad you're here," said +Paul; "now we can decide, we three, upon what is best to be done. The +doctor says that while this heat is very bad for Cicely, travel would be +still worse; she cannot go anywhere by train, and hardly by +steamer--though that is better; there would be no use, then, in trying +to take her south." + +"It's ten times hotter here to-day than I ever saw it at Romney," +interposed the judge. "It's a tophet--this town of yours!" + +"I was thinking also of Miss Abercrombie's illness," Paul went on. +"Though her fever is light, her room is still a sick-room, and that +would depress Cicely, I feel sure. But, meanwhile, the poor girl is +hourly growing weaker, and so this is what I have thought of: we will go +into camp in the pines near Jupiter Light. Don't you remember how much +good camp-life did her before?" + +Six days later they were living in the pine woods at Jupiter. This time +lodges had been built; the nurse accompanied Cicely; they were a party +of eight, without counting the cook and the Indians. + +At first Cicely remained in much the same state, she recognized no one +but Jack. + +Jack continued to be his mother's most constant adorer; he climbed often +into her lap, and, putting his arms round her neck, "loved" her with his +cheek against hers, and with all his little heart; he came trotting up +many times a day, to stroke her face with his dimpled hand. Cicely +looked at him, but did not answer. After ten days in the beneficent +forest, however, her strength began to revive, and their immediate fears +were calmed. One evening she asked for her grandfather, and when he came +hastily in and bent over her couch, she smiled and kissed him. He sat +down beside her, holding her hand; after a while she fell into a sleep. +The old man went softly out, he went to the camp-fire, and made it +blaze, throwing on fresh pine-cones recklessly. + +"Sixty-five in the shade," remarked Hollis. + +"This Northern air is always abominable. Will you make me a taste of +something spicy? I feel the need of it. Miss Bruce,--Eve--Cicely knows +me!" + +Eve looked at his brightened face, at the blazing fire, the rough table +with the tumblers, the flask, and the lemons. Hollis had gone to the +kitchen to get hot water. + +"She knows me," repeated the judge, triumphantly. "She sent for me +herself." + +Paul now appeared, and the good news was again told. Paul had just come +from Port aux Pins. After establishing them at Jupiter, he had been +obliged to return to town immediately, and he had remained there closely +occupied for more than a week. He sat down, refusing Hollis's proffered +glass. The nurse came out, and walked to and fro before Cicely's lodge, +breathing the aromatic air; this meant that Cicely still slept. Eve had +seated herself a little apart from the fire; her figure was in the +shadow. Her mind was filled with but one thought: "Cicely better? Then +must I tell her?" By-and-by the conversation of the others came to her. + +"Hanging is too good for them," said the judge. + +"But wasn't it supposed to be a chance shot?" remarked Hollis. "Not +intentional, exactly?" + +"That makes no difference. You may call it absolute chance, if you like; +but the negro who dares to lift a pistol against a white man should not +be left alive five minutes afterwards," declared the old planter, +implacably. + +"You'd ought to have lived in the days of religious wars," drawled +Hollis. "I don't know anything else carnivorous enough to suit you." + +"You must be a Quaker, sir! Tennant feels as I do, he'd shoot at sight." + +"Oh no, he wouldn't," said Hollis. "He ain't a Southerner." + +"Tennant can speak for himself," said the judge, confidently. + +"I'd shoot the man who shot my brother," answered Paul. "I'd go down +there to-morrow--I should have gone long ago--if I thought there was the +least chance of finding him." A dark flush rose in his face. "I'm +afraid--even if it was an unintentional shot--that I should want to +_kill_ that man just the same; I should be a regular savage!" + +"Would you never forgive him?" asked Eve's voice from the shadow. + +"Blood for blood!" responded Paul, hotly. "No, not unless I killed him; +then I might." + +Eve rose. + +Paul got up. "Oh, are you going?" But she did not hear him; she had gone +to her lodge. He sat down again. She did not reappear that night. + +The next morning she went off for a solitary walk. By chance her steps +took the direction of a small promontory that jutted sharply into the +lake, its perpendicular face rising to a height of forty feet from the +deep water below; she had been here several times before, and knew the +place well; it was about a mile from the camp. As she sat there, Paul's +figure appeared through the trees. He came straight to her. "I have been +looking for you, I tried to find you last night." He paused a moment. +"Eve, don't you see what I've come for? Right in the midst of all this +grief and trouble I've found out something. It's just this, Eve: I love +you." + +She tried to rise, but he put his hand on her shoulder to keep her where +she was. "Oh, but I do, you needn't doubt it," he went on, with an +amused smile--amused at himself; "in some way or other the thing has +come about, I may say, in spite of me. I never thought it would. But +here 'tis--with a vengeance! I think of you constantly, I can't help +thinking of you; I recognize, at last, that the thing is unchangeable, +that it's for life; have you I must." The words were despotic, but the +tone was entreating; and the eyes, looking down upon her, were +caressing--imploring. "Yes, I'm as helpless as any one," Paul went on, +smiling as he said it; "I can't sleep, even. Come, take me; I'm not such +a bad fellow, after all--I really think I'm not. And as regards my +feeling for you, you need not be troubled; it's strong enough!" + +She quailed under his ardor. + +"I haven't spoken before because there has been so much to do," Paul +continued; "there has been Cicely, and then I've been harassed about +business; I've been in a box, and trying to get out. Besides, I wasn't +perfectly sure that my time had come." He laughed. "I'm sure now." He +took her in his arms. "Don't let us make any delays, Eve; we're not so +young, either of us. Not that you need be afraid that you're to be the +less happy on that account; I'll see to that!" + +She broke from him. + +But again he came to her, he took her hands, and, kneeling, laid his +forehead upon them. "I will be as humble as you like; only--be good to +me. I long for it, I must have it." + +A sob rose in her throat. He sprang up. "Don't do that! Why, I want to +make you absolutely happy, if I can. We shall have troubles enough, and +perhaps we shall have sorrows, but at least we shall be together; you +must never leave me, and I will do all I can to be less rough. But on +your side there's one thing, Eve: you _must_ love me." These last words +were murmured in her ear. + +She drew herself away from him. The expression of her face was almost +like death. + +"You look as though you were afraid of me! I thought you loved me, Eve?" + +"I do." + +"Pretend you are a man, then, long enough to say 'yes' without any more +circumlocution. We will be married at Port aux Pins. Then we can take +care of Cicely together." + +"I shall never marry." + +"Yes, you will." + +"I do not wish to leave Cicely." + +"She wouldn't care about that. She isn't even fond of you." + +"Oh, what shall I say to you?" cried Eve, her hands dropping by her +sides. "Listen: it will be absolutely impossible for you to change my +determination. But I am so horribly unhappy that I do believe I cannot +stand anything more--any more contests with you. Leave me to myself; say +nothing to me. But don't drive me away; at least let me stay near you." + +"In my arms, Eve." + +"Let me stay near you; see you; hear you talk; but that is all." + +"And how long do you suppose that could last? It's a regular woman's +idea: nonsense." + +"Paul, be merciful!" + +"Merciful? Oh, yes!" He took her again in his arms. + +"I swear to you that I cannot marry you," she said, trembling as his +cheek touched hers. "Since I've known you I haven't wanted to die, I've +wanted to live--live a long life. But now I _do_ want to die; there is a +barrier between us, I cannot lift it." + +He released her. "There could be but one.--I believe that you are +truthful; is the barrier another man?" + +Another man? She hesitated a moment. "Yes." + +He looked at her. "I don't believe you! You are lying for some purpose +of your own. See here, Eve, I don't want to be played with in this way; +you love me, and I worship you; by this time next week you are to be my +wife." + +"I must go away from you, then? You won't help me? Where can I go!" She +left him; she walked slowly towards the lake, her head bowed. + +He followed her. He had paid no attention to what she was saying; +"feminine complications"--this was all he thought. He was very masterful +with women. + +As he came up she turned her head and looked at him. And, by a sort of +inspiration, he divined that the look was a farewell. He caught her, and +none too soon, for, as he touched her, he felt the impulse, the first +forward movement of the spring which would have taken her over the edge, +down to the deep water below. + +Carrying her in his arms, close against his breast, he hastened away +from the edge; he went inland for a long distance. Then he stopped, +releasing her. He was extremely pale. + +"I believe you now," he said. "All shall be as you like--just as you +like; I will do anything you wish me to do." He seemed to be still +afraid, he watched her anxiously. + +She came and put her hands on his shoulders; she lifted her head and +kissed his cheek. It was like the kiss one gives in the chamber of +death. + +He did not move, he was holding himself in strict control. But he felt +the misery of her greeting so acutely that moisture rose in his eyes. + +She saw it. "Don't be troubled about me," she said. "I didn't want to +die--really, I didn't want to at all. It was only because just at that +moment I could not bear it to have you keep asking me when it was +impossible,--I felt that I must go away; and apart from you, and Cicely +and baby, there seemed no place in the world for me! But now--now I +_want_ to live. Perhaps we shall both live long lives." + +"I'm not a woman, you know," said Paul, with a faint smile. "Women do +with make-believes; men can't." + +She had left him. "Go now," she said. + +He turned to obey. Then he came back. "Eve, can't you tell me your real +reason?" + +But her face changed so quickly to its old look of agony that he felt a +pang of regret that he had spoken. "I will never ask you again," he +said. + +This was the offering he made her--a great one for Paul Tennant. He went +away. + +An hour later she came back to the camp. + +"Paul has gone to Potterpins," said Hollis, who was sitting by the fire. +"Told me to give you this." He handed her a note. + +It contained but two lines: "I shall come back next week. But send a +note by mail; I want to know if you are contented with me." + +Eve wrote but one word--"Yes." + + + + +XXV. + + +PAUL remained away for ten days; not by his own wish, but detained by +business. + +During his absence Hollis's services were in demand. Cicely was now able +to go out on the lake, and he took her for an hour or two every morning +in one of the larger canoes; the nurse and Cicely sat at the bow, then +came Porley and Jack, then Eve, then Hollis. Cicely still did not talk, +she had not again asked for her grandfather; but she looked at the water +and the woods on the shore, and her face showed occasionally some +slight childish interest in what was passing. Eve, too, scarcely spoke; +but it was pleasure enough for poor Hollis to be opposite to her, where +he could see her without appearing to gaze too steadily. He had always +admired her; he had admired her voice, her reticent, independent way; he +had admired her tall, slender figure, with the broad sweep of the +shoulders, the erect carriage, and lithe, strong step. He had never +thought her too cold, too pale; but now in the increased life and color +which had come to her she seemed to him a daughter of the gods--the +strong Northern gods with flaxen hair; the flush in her cheeks made her +eyes bluer and her hair more golden; the curve of her lips, a curve +which had once been almost sullen, was now strangely sweet. Her love had +made her beautiful; her love, too, made her kind to Hollis;--women are +often unconsciously cruel in this way. The poor auctioneer lived in a +fool's paradise and forgot all his cautions; day-dreams began to visit +him, he was a boy again. + +On the eleventh day Paul returned. + +Hollis happened to see him meet Eve. Outwardly it was simply that they +shook hands, and stood for a moment exchanging an unimportant question +or two; or rather Paul asked, and Eve answered; but Paul's tone was not +what it once had been, his eyes, looking at Eve, were different. It was +one thing to know that she loved Paul, Hollis was used to that; it was +another to know that Paul loved her. He watched through the day, with +all the acuteness of jealousy, discovering nothing. But that evening, +when Eve had said good-night and started towards her lodge, Paul rose +and followed her. + +"I guess I'll go down to the lake for a moment or two," Hollis said to +the judge, who was sitting by the fire. He walked away in the direction +of the lake; then, doubling upon his track, he returned, avoiding the +fire and going towards the row of lodges. Presently he saw two dusky +figures, a man and a woman; they stood there for a moment; then the man +bent his head and touched with his lips the woman's wrist. It was but +for a second; they separated, she going towards her lodge, and he +returning to the fire. The watcher in the wood stole noiselessly down to +the beach and got out a canoe; then he went off and woke an Indian. +Presently the two were paddling westward over the dark lake. They caught +the steamer. Hollis reached Port aux Pins the following evening. + +From the boat he went to a restaurant and ordered dinner; he called it +"dinner" to make it appear more fine. He ordered the best that the +establishment could offer. He complained because there were no +anchovies. He said to the waiter: "_This_ patty de fograr?--You must be +sick! Take away these off-color peaches and bring me something first +class. Bring lick-koors, too; can you catch on to that?" He drank a +great deal of wine, finishing with champagne; then he lit a cigar and +sauntered out. + +He went to a beer-garden. The place was brightly lighted; dusty +evergreens planted in tubs made foliage; little tables were standing in +the sand; there was a stage upon which four men, in Tyrolese costume, +were singing, "O Strassburg, du wunderschoene Stadt!" very well, +accompanied by a small orchestra. + +"Hello, Katty, wie geht's?" said Hollis to a girl who was passing with a +tray of empty beer-glasses. She stopped. "Want some ice-cream, Katty?" + +"Oh, come now, Mr. Hollis, you know there's no ice-cream here." + +"Did I say here? Outside, of course. Come along." + +Katty went, nothing loath. + +She was a girl of sixteen, with bright eyes, thick braids of brown hair, +and a sweet voice; the fairness of extreme youth gave her a fictitious +innocence. He took her to the ephemeral saloon, and sat looking at her +while she devoured two large slabs of a violently pink tint; her +preposterous Gainsborough hat, with its imitation plumes, she had taken +off, and the flaring gas-light shone on her pretty face. + +"Now shall we have a walk, Katty?" + +They strolled through the streets for half an hour. He took her into a +jeweller's shop, and bought her a German-silver dog-collar which she had +admired in the window; she wanted it to clasp round her throat: "Close +up, you know, under the chin; it's so cute that way." She was profuse in +her thanks; of her own accord, when they came out, she took his arm. + +He fell into silence. They passed his rooms; Katty looked up. "All +dark," she said. + +"Yes. I guess I'll take you back now, Katty; do you want to go home, or +to the garden again?" + +"I ain't accustomed to going to bed at this early hour, Mr. Hollis, +whatever you may be. I'll go back to the gardens, please." + +When they reached the entrance, he put his hand in his pocket and drew +something out. "There, Katty, take that and buy more dog-collars. +Money's all an old fellow like me is good for." + +"Oh, Mr. Hollis,--when I like you better than many that's young." + +"Thank you, Katty. Good-night." + +He went, as he would have called it, "home." On the way he passed his +office; a vague impulse made him unlock the door, and look in, by the +light of a match. The skeleton was there, and the bonnets in their +bandboxes. "I must try to work 'em off before winter," he thought; "they +are really elegant." He locked the door again, and, going a little +farther down the street, he entered an open hallway, and began to climb +a long flight of stairs. On the second floor he inserted his key in a +door, and, opening, entered; he was at home. The air was close and hot, +and he threw up the windows; leaving the candle in the outer room, he +went and sat down in his parlor, crossing his legs, and trying to lean +back; every chair in the room was in its very nature and shape +uncomfortable. Sitting there, his life in retrospect passed slowly +before him, like a picture unrolling itself on the dark wall; he saw all +the squalid poverty of it, all its disappointments, its deprivations. +"From first to last it's been a poor affair; I wonder how I've stood +it!" The dawn came into the room, he did not move; he sat there with his +hat on until the little bell of the Baptist church near by began to ring +for Sabbath-school. He listened to the sound for a while, it was +persistent; finally he got up; his legs felt stiff, he brushed some dust +from his trousers with the palm of his hand; then he went out. + +He went down to the street, and thence to the Baptist church. The door +stood open, and he went in; the children were already in their places, +and the organ was sounding forth a lively tune; presently the young +voices began all together in a chorus, + + "The voice of free grace cries escape to the mount-_ins_--" + +His mother used to sing that song, he remembered. She often sang it over +her work, and she was always at work--yes, to the very day of her death; +she was a patient, silent creature. + +"I don't know that I'd oughter have less pluck than she had," thought +her son. + +"Brother, will you have a book?" whispered a little man in a duster, +proffering one from behind. + +Hollis took it, and followed the words as the children sang them to the +end. When the prayer began, he laid the book down carefully on the seat, +and went out on tiptoe. He went down to the pier; the westward bound +boat had just come in; he went on board. + +"Business," he explained to the judge, when he reached the camp. "Had to +go." + +"Sold the skeleton, perhaps?" + +"Well, I've laid one!" responded Hollis, grimly. + +The judge was in gay spirits, Cicely had been talking to him; it had +been about Jack, and she had said nothing of importance; but the +sentences had been rational, connected. + +Several days passed, and the improvement continued; consciousness had +returned to her eyes, they all felt hopeful. They had strolled down to +the beach one evening to see the sunset, and watch the first flash of +Jupiter Light out on its reef. Eve was with Hollis; she selected him +each day as her companion, asking him in so many words to accompany her; +Hollis went, showering out jokes and puns. Now and then he varied his +efforts at entertainment by legends of what he called "old times on the +frontier." They always began: "My father lived on a flat-boat. He was a +bold and adventurous character." In reality, his father was a teacher of +singing, who earned his living (sometimes) by getting up among +school-children, who co-operated without pay, a fairy operetta called +_The Queen of the Flowers_; he was an amiable man with a mild tenor +voice; he finally became a colporteur for the Methodist Book Concern. +To-day Hollis was talking about the flat-boat--maundering on, as he +would himself have called it; Paul and the judge strolled to and fro. +The water came up smoothly in long, low swells, whose edge broke at +their feet with a little sound like "whisssh," followed by a retreating +gurgle. + +"Paul Tennant, are you there?" asked a voice. + +Startled, they turned. On the bank above the beach, and therefore just +above their heads (the bank was eight feet high), stood Cicely. + +"It is you I want, Paul Tennant. Everything has come back to me; I know +now that Ferdie is dead. You would not let me go to him; probably he +thought that it was because I did not want to go. This I owe to you, and +I curse you for it. I curse you, Paul Tennant, I curse your days and +nights; all the things and people you like, all your hopes and plans. If +you trust any one, I hope that person will betray you; if you love any +one, I hope that person will hate you; if you should have any children, +I hope they will be disobedient, and, whatever they may be to others, +undutiful to you." + +"Cicely, stop!" cried Eve. "Will no one stop her?" + +"God, curse Paul Tennant. He has been so cruel!" She was now kneeling +down, her arms held up to heaven in appeal. + +The judge looked waxily pallid; Hollis did not move; Paul, much less +disturbed than any one, was already climbing the bank. It was +perpendicular, and there was neither footing nor hold, but after one or +two efforts he succeeded. When he reached the top, however, Cicely was +gone. He went to her lodge; here he found her sitting quietly beside +Jack's bed; she was alone, neither the nurse nor Porley was with her. +Before he could speak, Eve appeared, breathless. + +"Where is the nurse, Cicely?" Paul asked, in his usual tone. + +"Do you mean that woman whom you have put over me? She has gone for a +walk." + +"And Porley?" + +"You will find Porley at the big pine." + +"What is she doing there?" + +"I didn't want her about, so I tied her to the trunk," Cicely answered. +"Probably she is frightened," she added, calmly. + +"Go and find her," said Eve to Paul. "I will stay here." + +"Have nothing to do with Paul Tennant, Eve," Cicely remarked. "He is +almost a murderer. He didn't go to his brother; he let him die alone." + +"I shall not leave you," said Paul, looking at Eve's white cheeks. + +"Have you fallen in love with each other?" asked Cicely. "It needed only +that." + +"I beg you to go," Eve entreated. + +Paul hesitated. "Will you promise not to leave this lodge until I come +back?" + +"Yes." + +Paul went out. As he did so, he saw the judge approaching, leaning +heavily on Hollis's arm. + +"It's nothing," Hollis explained. "The judge, he's only tuckered out; a +night's rest is all he needs." + +"Take me to Cicely," the judge commanded. + +"Cicely ought to be quiet now," Paul answered in a decided voice. "Eve +is with her, and they're all right; women do better alone together, you +know, when one of them has hysteria." + +"Hysteria! Is that what you called it?" said the judge. + +"Of course. And it's natural," Paul went on:--"poor little girl, coming +to herself suddenly here in the woods, only to realize that her husband +is dead. We shall have to be doubly tender with her, now that she is +beginning to be herself again." + +"You didn't mind it, then?" pursued the judge. He was relieved, of +course--glad. Still it began to seem almost an impertinence that Paul +should have paid so little attention to what had been to the rest of +them so terrible. + +"Mind? Do you mean what she was saying? I didn't half hear it, I was +thinking how I could get up that bank. And that reminds me there's +something wrong with Porley; she's at the big pine. I am going out there +to see. Cicely told me that she had tied her in some way." + +"If she did, the wench richly deserved it," said the judge, going +towards his lodge, his step stiff and slow. + +"He came mighty near a stroke," said Hollis to Paul in an undertone. + +"Hadn't you better go with him, then?" + +"Oh yes; I'll go." He went towards the judge's lodge. "You go right +into that lodge, fool Hollis, and stay there,--stay with that +unreasonable, vituperative, cantankerous old Bourbon of a judge, +and--judge of Bourbon! You smooth him down, and you hearten him up, you +agree with him every time; you tuck him in, you hang his old clothes +over a chair, you take his shoes out, and black 'em; and you conduct +yourself generally like one of his own nigs in the glorious old days of +slavery--Maryland, my Maryland!" He lifted the latch of the door, and +went in. + +Paul, meanwhile, had gone to the big pine; when he reached it, the +twilight had darkened into night. A crouching figure stood close to the +trunk--Porley; she was tied by a small rope to the tree, the firm +ligatures encircling her in three places--at the throat, the waist, and +the ankles; in addition, her hands were tied behind her. + +"Well, Porley, a good joke, isn't it?" Paul said, as he cut the knots of +the rope with his knife. + +"Ah-_hoo!_" sobbed the girl, her fright breaking into audible expression +now that aid was near. + +"Mrs. Morrison thought she would see how brave you were." + +"Ah-hoo! Ah-hoo-hoo-_hoo!_" roared Porley, in a paroxysm of frantic +weeping. + +"If you are so frightened as that, what did you let her do it for? You +are five times as strong as she is." + +"I coulden tech her, marse--I coulden! Says she, 'A-follerin' an' +spyin', Porley? Take dat rope an' come wid me.' So I come. She's cunjud +me, marse; I is done fer." + +"Nonsense! Where's the nurse?" + +"I doan know--I doan know. Says she, 'We'll take a walk, Miss Mile.' An' +off dey went, 'way ober dat way. Reckon Miss Mile's dead!" + +"No more dead than you are. Go back to the camp and un-cunjer yourself; +there's a dollar to help it along." + +He went off in the direction she had indicated. After a while he began +to call at intervals; there was a distant answer, and he called again. +And then gradually, nearer and nearer, came the self-respecting voice of +Mary Ann Mile. Each time he shouted, "Hello there!" her answer was, +"Yes, sir; present-lee," in a very well-educated tone. + +"What is this, Mrs. Mile?" + +"You may well ask, sir. Such an incident has never happened to me +before. Mrs. Morrison remarked that she should enjoy a walk, and I +therefore went with her; after we had proceeded some distance, suddenly +she darted off. I followed her, and kept her in sight for a while, or +rather she kept me in sight; then she disappeared, and I perceived not +only that I had lost her, but that I myself was lost. It is a curious +thing, sir,--the cleverness of people whose minds are disordered!" + +"Her mind is no longer disordered, Mrs. Mile; she has got back her +senses." + +"Do you consider this an instance of it?" asked the nurse, doubtfully. + +When Paul left Cicely's lodge, Eve closed the door. "Cicely, I have +something to tell you. Listen." + +"It is a pity you like that man--that Paul Tennant," Cicely answered. + +"If I do like him, I can never be anything to him. This is what I +wanted to tell you: that I shot his brother." + +"Well, if his brother was like _him_--" + +"Oh, Cicely, it was Ferdie--your Ferdie." + +"What do you know about Ferdie?" demanded Cicely, coldly. "He never +liked you in the least." + +"Don't you know, Cicely, that Ferdie is dead?" + +"Oh, yes, I know it. Paul would not let me go to him, and he died all +alone." + +"And do you know what was the cause of his death?" + +"Yes; he was shot; there were some negroes, they got away in a boat." + +"No, there were no negroes; I shot him. I took a pistol on purpose." + +"It seems to be very hard work for you to tell me this, you are crying +dreadfully," remarked Cicely, looking at her. "Why do you tell?" + +"Because I am the one you must curse. Not Paul." + +"It's all for Paul, then." + +"But it was for you in the first place, Cicely. Don't you remember that +we escaped?--that we went through the wood to the north point?--that you +tried to push the boat off, and couldn't? Baby climbed up by one of the +seats, and Ferdie saw him, and made a dash after him; then it was that I +fired. I did it, Cicely. Nobody else." + +"Oh," said Cicely, slowly, "you did it, did you?" She rose. "And Paul +kept me from going to him! It was all you two." She went to the crib, +and lifted Jack from his nest. He stirred drowsily; then fell asleep +again. (Poor little Jack, what journeys!) + +"Open that door; and go," Cicely commanded. + +Eve hesitated a moment. Then she obeyed. + +Cicely wrapped a shawl about Jack, and laid him down; she set to work +and made two packets of clothing--one for herself, and one for the +child--slinging them upon her arm; she put on her straw hat, took Jack, +and went out, closing the door behind her. Eve, who was waiting outside +in the darkness, followed her. She dared not call for help; she hoped +that they might meet Paul coming back, or Porley, or the nurse. But they +met no one, Paul was still at the big pine. Cicely turned down to the +beach, and began to walk westward. Eve followed, moving as noiselessly +as possible; but Cicely must have heard her, though she gave no sign of +it, for, upon passing a point, Eve found that she had lost her, there +was no one in sight. She ran forward, she called her name entreatingly; +she stood by the edge of the water, fearing to see something dark +floating there. She called again, she pleaded. No answer from the dusky +night. She turned and ran back to the camp. + +At its edge she met Paul. "You promised me that you would not leave the +lodge," he said. + +"Oh, Paul, I don't know where she is. Oh, come--hurry, hurry!" + +They went together. She was so tired, so breathless, that he put his arm +round her as a support. + +"Oh, do not." + +"This is where you ought always to be when you are tired--in my arms." + +"Don't let us talk. She may be dead." + +"Poor little Cicely! But you are more to me." + +His tones thrilled her, she felt faint with happiness. Suddenly came the +thought: "When we find her, she will tell him! She will tell him all I +said." + +"Don't believe her; don't believe anything she may tell you," she +entreated, passionately. A fierce feeling took possession of her; she +would fight for her happiness. "Am I nothing to you?" she said, pausing; +"my wish nothing? Promise me not to believe anything Cicely says against +me,--anything! It's all an hallucination." + +Paul had not paid much heed to her exclamations, he thought all women +incoherent; but he perceived that she was excited, exhausted, and he +laid his hand protectingly on her hair, smoothing it with tender touch. +"Why should I mind what she says? It would be impossible for her to say +anything that could injure you in _my_ eyes, Eve." + +Beyond the next point they saw a light; it came from a little fire of +twigs on the beach. Beside the fire was Jack; he was carefully wrapped +in the shawl, the two poor little packets of clothing were arranged +under him as a bed; Cicely's straw hat was under his head, and her +handkerchief covered his feet. But there was no Cicely. They went up and +down the beach, and into the wood behind; again Eve looked fearfully at +the water. + +"She isn't far from Jack," said Paul. "We shall find her in a moment or +two." + +Eve's search stopped. "In a moment or two he will know!" + +"Here she is!" cried Paul. + +And there was Cicely, sitting close under the bank in the deepest +shadow. She did not move; Paul lifted her in his arms. + +"The moon is under a cloud now," she explained, in a whispering voice; +"as soon as it comes out, I shall see Ferdie over there on the opposite +shore, and I shall call to him. "Don't let that fire go out, I haven't +another match; he will need the light as a guide." + +"She thinks she is on Singleton Island!" said Eve;--"the night we got +away." + +Her tone was joyous. + + + + +XXVI. + + +PAUL AND EVE took Cicely back to the camp. And almost immediately, +before Mrs. Mile could undress her, she had fallen asleep. It was the +still slumber of exhaustion, but it seemed also to be a rest; she lay +without moving all that night, and the next day, and the night +following. As she slumbered, gradually the tenseness of her face was +relaxed, the lines grew lighter, disappeared; then slowly a pink colored +her cheeks, restoring her beauty. + +They all came softly in from time to time to stand beside her for a +moment. The nurse was sure that the sleep was nature's medicine, and +that it was remedial; and when at last, on the second day, the dark eyes +opened, it could be seen that physically the poor child was well. + +She laughed with Jack, she greeted her grandfather, and talked to him; +she called Porley "Dilsey," and told her that she was much improved. "I +will give you a pair of silver ear-rings, Dilsey, when we get home." For +she seemed to comprehend that they were not at home, but on a journey of +some sort. The memory of everything that had happened since Ferdie's +arrival at Romney had been taken from her; she spoke of her husband as +in South America. But she did not talk long on any subject. She wished +to have Jack always with her, she felt a tranquil interest in her +grandfather, and this was all. With the others she was distant. Her +manner to Eve was exactly the manner of those first weeks after Eve's +arrival at Romney. She spoke of Paul and Hollis to her grandfather as +"your friends." + +She gathered flowers; she talked to the Indians, who looked at her with +awe; she wandered up and down the beach, singing little songs, and she +spent hours afloat. Mrs. Mile, who, like the well-trained nurse that she +was, had no likes or dislikes as regarded her patients, and who +therefore cherished no resentment as to the manner in which she had been +befooled in the forest--Mrs. Mile thoroughly enjoyed "turning out" her +charge each morning in a better condition than that of the day before. +Cicely went willingly to bed at eight every evening, and she did not +wake until eight the next morning; when she came out of her lodge after +the bath, the careful rubbing, and the nourishing breakfast which formed +part of Mrs. Mile's excellent system, from the crisp edges of her hair +down to her quick-stepping little feet, she looked high-spirited, +high-bred, and fresh as an opening rose. Mrs. Mile would follow, +bringing her straw hat, her satisfaction expressed by a tightening of +her long upper lip that seemed preliminary to a smile (though the smile +never came), and by the quiet pride visible in her well-poised back. +When, as generally happened, Cicely went out on the lake, Mrs. Mile, +after over-seeing with her own eyes the preparations for lunch, would +retire to a certain bench, whence she could watch for the returning +boats, and devote herself to literature for a while, always reading one +book, the History of Windham, Connecticut, Windham being her native +place. As she sat there, with her plain broad-cheeked face and smooth +scanty hair, her stiff white cuffs, her neat boots, size number seven, +neatly crossed before the short skirt of her brown gown, she made a +picture of a sensible, useful person (without one grain of what a man +would call feminine attractiveness). But no one cared to have her +attractive at Jupiter Light; they were grateful for her devotion to +Cicely, and did not study her features. They all clustered round Cicely +more constantly than ever now, this strange little companion, so fair +and fresh, so happily unconscious, by God's act, of the sorrows that had +crushed her. + +Paul was back and forth, now at the camp for a day or two, now at Port +aux Pins. One afternoon, when he was absent, Eve went to the little +forest burying-ground belonging to Jupiter Light. On the way she met +Cicely, accompanied by Mrs. Mile. + +"Where are you going? I will go with you, I think," Cicely remarked. "It +can't be so tiresome as _this._" + +Mrs. Mile went intelligently away. + +"I am very tired of her," Cicely continued; "she looks like the Mad +Hatter at the tea-party: this style ten-and-six. Why are you turning +off?" + +"This path is prettier." + +"No; I want to go where you were going first." + +"Perhaps she won't mind," thought Eve. + +When they came to the little enclosure, Cicely looked at it calmly. "Is +this a garden?" she asked. She began to gather wild flowers outside. +Eve went within; she cleared the fallen leaves from the grave of the +little girl. While she was thus occupied, steps came up the path, and +Hollis appeared; making a sign to Eve, he offered his arm quickly to +Cicely. "Mrs. Morrison, the judge is in a great hurry to have you come +back." + +"Grandpa?" said Cicely. "Is he ill?" + +"Yes, he is very ill indeed," replied Hollis, decidedly. + +"Poor grandpa!" said Cicely. "Let us hurry." + +They went back to the camp. Reaching it, he took her with rapid step to +her lodge, where the judge and Mrs. Mile were waiting. "You are ill, +grandpa?" said Cicely, going to him. + +"I am already better." + +"But not by any means well yet," interposed Mrs. Mile; "he must stay +here in this lodge, and you shouldn't leave him for one moment, Mrs. +Morrison." + +Porley and Jack were also present; every now and then Mrs. Mile would +give Porley a peremptory sign. + +Hollis and Eve stood together near the door talking in low tones. "A +muss among the Indians," Hollis explained. "Those we brought along are +peaceful enough if left to themselves; in fact, they are cowards. But a +dangerous fellow, a _very_ dangerous scamp, joined them this morning on +the sly, and they've got hold of some whiskey; I guess he brought it. I +thought I'd better tell you; the cook is staying with them to keep +watch, and the judge and I are on the lookout here; I don't think there +is the least real danger; still you'd better keep under cover. If Paul +comes, we shall be all right." + +"Do you expect him to-day?" + +"Sorter; but I'm not sure." + +A drunken shout sounded through the forest. + +"An Indian spree is worse than a white man's," remarked Hollis. "But you +ain't afraid, I see that!" He looked at her admiringly. + +"I'm only afraid of one thing in the world," replied Eve, taking, +woman-like, the comfort of a confession which no one could understand. + +"Can you shoot?" Hollis went on.--"Fire a pistol?" + +She blanched. + +"There, now, never mind. 'Twas only a chance question." + +"No, tell me. I can shoot perfectly well; as well as a man." + +"Then I'll give you my pistol. You'll have no occasion to use it, not +the least in the world; but still you'll be armed." + +"Put it on the table. I can get it if necessary." + +"Well, I'll go outside. I'm to stroll about where I can see the cook; +that's my cue; and you can stay near the door, where you can see me; +that's yours. And the judge, he has the back window, one of the guns is +there. All right? Bon-sor, then." He went out. + +Eve sat down by the door. The judge kept up a conversation with Cicely, +and anxiously played quiet games with little Jack, until both fell +asleep; Cicely fell asleep very easily now, like a child. Mrs. Mile +lifted her in her strong arms and laid her on the bed, while Porley took +Jack; poor Porley was terribly frightened, but rather more afraid of +Mrs. Mile, on the whole, than of the savages. + +By-and-by a red light flashed through the trees outside; the Indians had +kindled a fire. + +Twenty minutes later Hollis paused at the door. "Paul's coming, I guess; +I hear paddles." + +"Of course you'll go down and meet him?" said Eve. + +"No, I can't leave the beat." + +"I can take your place for that short time." + +"Don't you show your head outside--don't you!" said Hollis, quickly. + +Eve looked at him. "I shall go down to the beach myself, if you don't." +Her eyes were inflexible. + +All Hollis's determination left him. "The judge can take this beat, +then; you can guard his window," he said, in a lifeless tone. He went +down to the beach. + +All of them--the judge, Mrs. Mile, and Porley, as well as Eve--could +hear the paddles now; the night, save for the occasional shouts, was +very still. Eve stood at the window. "Will the Indians hear him, and go +down?" + +But they did not hear him. In another five minutes Paul had joined them. + +Hollis, who was with him, gave a hurried explanation. "We're all right, +now that you are here," he concluded; "we are more than a match for the +drunken scamps if they should come prowling up this way. When the +whiskey's out of 'em to-morrow, we can reduce 'em to reason." + +"Why wait till to-morrow?" said Paul. + +"No use getting into a fight unnecessarily." + +"I don't propose to fight," Paul answered. + +"They're eleven, Tennant," said the judge; "you wouldn't have time to +shoot them all down." + +"I'm not going to shoot," Paul responded. He went towards the door. + +"Don't go," pleaded Eve, interposing. + +He went straight on, as though he had not heard her. + +"I can't move him," she thought, triumphantly. "I can no more move him +than I could move a mountain!" + +Paul was gone. Hollis followed him to the door. "We two must stay here +and protect the women, you know," said the judge, warningly. + +"Why, certainly," said Hollis; "of course,--the ladies." He came back. + +Suddenly Eve hurried out. + +Paul reached the Indian quarters, and walked up to the fire. He gave a +look round the circle. + +The newly arrived man, the one whom Hollis had called dangerous, sprang +to his feet. + +Paul took him by the throat and shook the breath out of him. + +When Hollis came hurrying up, the thing was done; the other Indians, +abject and terrified, were helping to bind the interloper. + +"The cook can watch them now," said Paul. "I suppose there's no supper, +with all this row?" + +Hollis gave a grim laugh. "At a pinch--like this, I don't mind cooking +one." + +Paul turned. And then he saw Eve behind him. + +Hollis had gone to the kitchen; he did not wish to see them meet. + +"You did absurdly wrong to come, Eve," said Paul, going to her. "What +possible good was it? And if there had been real danger, you would have +been in the way." + +"You are trembling; are you so frightened, then?" he went on, his voice +growing softer. + +"I am not frightened now." + +They went towards the lodge. + +"It's a desolate life you've arranged for me, Eve," he said, going back +to his subject, the Indians already forgotten. "I'm not to say anything +to you; I'm to have nothing; and so we're to go on apparently forever. +What is it you are planning for? I am sure I don't know. I know you care +for me, and I don't believe that you'll find anything sweeter than the +love I could give you,--if you would let me." + +"There is nothing sweeter," Eve answered. + +"Have you given up keeping me off?" He drew her towards him. She did not +resist. + +In her heart rose the cry, "For one day, for one hour, let me have it, +have it all! Then--" + + + + +XXVII. + + +On the second day after the alarm, Paul took the Indians back to Port +aux Pins, and dismissed them, after handing the ringleader to the proper +authorities; the others slunk away with their long black hair hanging +down below their white man's hats, their eagle profiles, in spite of +fierceness of outline, entirely unalarming. Paul then selected half a +dozen Irishmen, the least dilapidated he could find (the choice lay +between Indians and Irishmen), and brought them to Jupiter Light to take +the place of the crestfallen aborigines. He remained there a few days to +see that all went well; then he returned to Port aux Pins for a week's +stay. "Come a little way up the lake to meet me," he said to Eve, as he +bade her good-by; "I shall be along about four o'clock next Wednesday +afternoon." + +His manner still remained a little despotic. But to women of strong will +despotism is attractive; when a despotism of love, it is enchanting. +Eve's feeling was, "Oh, to have at last found some one who is stronger +than I!" + +Even now not for a moment did she bend her opinions, her decisions, to +his, of her own accord; each time it was simply that she was conquered; +after contesting the point as strongly as she could, how she gloried in +feeling herself overridden at last! She would look at Paul with +delighted eyes, and laugh in triumph. To have yielded because she loved +him, would have had a certain sweetness; but to be conquered unyielding, +that was a satisfaction whose intensity could go no further. + +Since that walk in the darkness from the Indian quarters to Cicely's +lodge, when, suddenly, she had let her love have its way, she had +allowed herself to be carried along by chance events whithersoever they +pleased; she had defied conscience, she had accepted the bliss that hung +temptingly before her; she did not think, she only enjoyed. Once or +twice she had sent forth mentally this defiance,--"If you feel as I do, +_then_ you may judge me!" To whom was this said? To Fate? To the world +at large? In reality it was said to all women who in that summer of 1869 +were young enough to love: "If you _can_ feel as I do, then you may +judge me." But it was only once or twice that this mood had come to her, +only once or twice that she thought of anything but Paul; his offered +hand taken, her acceptance of it was at least superb in its +completeness; there was no looking back, no fear, no regret; nothing +but the fulness of joy. + +Still sweeter was it to feel that, deeply as she loved, she was loved as +deeply. Paul might be imperious, he might be negligent in explaining +things, and in other small ways; but there was nothing negligent in his +passion. His genius for directness, which puzzled Hollis in other +matters, showed itself also here; he had little to say--that was +possible--but no woman could have misunderstood the language of his eyes +or of the touch of his hand; or fail to be thrilled by it. The feeling +that possessed him went straight to its end, namely, Eve Bruce for his +wife; the same Eve whom he had not liked at all at first; to whom he had +found it difficult only a few weeks before to write a short letter. This +inconsistency did not trouble him; love had arrived, had descended upon +him in some way, he knew not how, had taken possession of him by force +and forever--he recognized that, and did not contest it. Women are only +women: this had been one of the settled convictions in the depths of his +mind, and it was a conviction not much changed even now; yet this same +Paul, with his mediaeval creed, made a lover much more invincible than a +hundred, a thousand other men, who would have said, perhaps, that they +revered women more. "Revered?" Paul would have answered, "I don't revere +Eve, I _love_ her!" + +Whatever name he gave it, she knew that she held the joy of his life in +her hands, that he would come to her for this--had already come; and +that it always would be so. This was happiness enough for her. + +This happiness had existed but ten days. But these days had seemed like +months of joy, she had lived each moment so fully. "Sejed, Prince of +Ethiopia, vowed to have three days of uninterrupted happiness--" she +might have remembered the old fable and its ending. But she remembered +nothing, she scorned to remember; let the unhappy, the unloved, think of +the past; she would drink in all the sunshine of the present, she would +live, live! + +"Row a little way up the lake to meet me," Paul had said. At half-past +three of the afternoon he had indicated, she went to the beach; one of +the Irishmen, under her direction, began to push down a canoe. The open +way in which she did this--in which she had done everything since that +night--was in itself an effectual disguise; no one thought it remarkable +that she should be going to meet Paul. As she was about to take her +place in the canoe, Hollis appeared. + +"Going far? We don't know much about that Paddy," he said, in an +undertone. + +"Only to meet Paul." + +"If he's late, you may have to go a good way." + +"He won't be late." + +"Well, he may be," answered Hollis, patiently. "I guess I'll take you, +if you'll let me; and then, when we meet, I'll come back with his man in +the other canoe." + +"Very well," Eve responded. She did not comment upon the terms of his +offer, she did not care what he thought. She took her place, and he +paddled westward. + +It was a beautiful afternoon; a slight coolness, which made itself felt +through the sunshine, showed that the short Northern summer was +approaching its end. As she sat with her back to the prow, she was +obliged to turn her head to look for the other canoe; and this she did +many times. After one of these quests, she saw that Hollis's eyes were +upon her. + +"Is there any change in me?" she asked, laughing. + +"Rather!" + +"What is it?" + +But poor Hollis did not know how to say, "You are so much more +beautiful." + +"It's my white dress," Eve suggested, in a somewhat troubled voice. "I +had it made in Port aux Pins. It's only pique." She smoothed the folds +of the skirt for a moment, doubtfully. + +"I guess white favors you," answered Hollis, with what he would have +called a festive wave of his hand. + +Her mood had now changed. "It's no matter, I'm not afraid!" She was +speaking her thoughts aloud, sure that he would not understand. But he +did understand. + +The other canoe came into sight after a while, shooting round a point; +Eve waved her handkerchief in answer to Paul's hail; the two boats met. + +"Mr. Hollis knows that you are to take me back," said Eve, as eagerly as +a child. + +Paul glanced at Hollis. But the other man bore the look bravely. "Proud +to be of service," he answered, waving his hand again, with two fingers +extended lightly. He changed places with Paul; Paul and Eve, in their +canoe, glided away. + +It was at this moment that Cicely, who had been asleep, opened her eyes. +Her lodge was quiet; Mrs. Mile was reading near the window, her seat +carefully placed so that the light should fall over her left shoulder +upon the page. + +Cicely gazed at her for some time; then she jumped from the couch with a +quick bound. "It's impossible to lie here another instant and see that +History of Windham! The next thing, you'll be proposing to read it aloud +to me; you look exactly like a woman who loves to read aloud." She began +to put on her shoes. + +"You are going for a walk? I shall be glad to go too," answered Mrs. +Mile promptly, putting a marker in her book, and rising. + +"No," responded Cicely; "I can't have those boots of yours pounding +along beside me to-day, Priscilla Jane. Impossible." + +"Well, I do declare!" said Mrs. Mile, reduced in her surprise to the +language of her youth. "They can't pound much, Mrs. Morrison, in the +sand; and there's nothing but sand here." + +"They grind it down!" answered Cicely. "You can call grandpa, if you +don't want me to go alone; but come with me to-day you shall not, you +clean, broad-faced, turn-out-your-toes, do-your-duty old relict of Abner +Whittredge Mile." She looked at Mrs. Mile consideringly as she said +this, bringing out each word in a soft, clear tone. + +The judge was listlessly roving about the beach. Mrs. Mile gave him +Cicely's request. "She is saying very odd things to-day, sir," she +added, impersonally. + +The judge, alarmed, hurried to the lodge; Mrs. Mile could not keep up +with him. + +"Priscilla Jane is short-winded, isn't she?" remarked Cicely, at the +lodge door, as he joined her. "Whenever she comes uphill, she always +stops, and pretends to admire the view, while she pants, 'What a +beautiful scene! What a _privilege_ to see it!'" + +The judge grinned; he too had heard Mrs. Mile speak of "privileges." + +"Come for a walk, grandpa," Cicely went on. She took his arm and they +went away together, followed by the careful eyes of the nurse, who had +paused at the top of the ascent. + +"This is a ruse, grandpa," Cicely said, after a while. "I wanted to take +a walk alone, and she wouldn't let me; but you will." + +"Why alone, my child?" + +"Because I'm always being watched; I'm just like a person in a cell, +don't you know, with one of those little windows cut in the door, +through which the sentinel outside can always look in; I am _never_ +alone." + +"It must be dreadful," the judge answered, with conviction. + +"Wait till you have seen Priscilla Jane in her night-gown," said Cicely, +with equal conclusiveness. + +"Heaven forbid!" said the judge, with a shrill little chuckle. Then he +turned and looked at her; she seemed so much like her old self. + +"You will let me go, grandpa?" She put up her face and kissed him. + +"If you will promise to come back soon." + +"Of course I will." + +He let her go on alone. She looked back and smiled once or twice; then +he lost sight of her; he returned to the beach by a roundabout way, in +order to deceive Priscilla Jane; he was almost as much pleased as Cicely +to outwit her. + +Cicely went on through the forest; she walked slowly, not stopping to +gather flowers as usual. After a while her vague glance rested upon two +figures in the distance. She stopped, and as, by chance, she was +standing close beside the trunk of a large tree, her own person was +concealed. The two figures were coming in her direction, they drew +nearer, they paused; and then there followed a picture as old as Paris +and Helen, as old as Tristram and Isolde: a lover taking in his arms the +woman he adores. And it was Paul Tennant who was the lover; it was Eve +who looked up at him with all her heart in her eyes. + +A shock passed over Cicely, the expression of her face changed rapidly +as her gaze remained fixed upon Eve: first, surprise; then a strange +quick anger; then perplexity. She left her place, and went rapidly +forward. + +Eve saw her first, she drew herself away from Paul; but immediately she +came back to him, laying her hand on his shoulder as if to hold him, to +keep him by her side. + +"Paul," said Cicely, still looking at Eve, "something has come to me; +Eve told me that she did a dreadful thing." And now she transferred her +gaze to Paul, looking at him with earnestness, as if appealing to him to +lighten her perplexity. + +"Yes, dear; let us go back to the camp," said Paul, soothingly. + +"Wait till I have told you all. She came to me, and asked--I don't know +where it was exactly?" And now she looked at Eve, inquiringly. + +Eve's eyes met hers, and the deep antagonism of the expression roused +the dulled intelligence. "How you do hate me, Eve! It's because you love +Paul. I don't see how Paul can like you, when you were always so hard +to Ferdie; for from the first she was hard to him, Paul; from the very +first. I remember--" + +Eve, terrified, turned away, thus releasing Cicely from the spell of her +menacing glance. + +Cicely paused; and then went back to her former narrative confusedly, +speaking with interruptions, with pauses. "She came to me, Paul, and she +asked, 'Cicely, do you know how he died?' And I said, 'Yes; there were +two negroes.' And she answered me, 'No; there were no negroes--'" + +"Dreams, Cicely," said Paul, kindly. "Every one has dreams like that." + +"No. I have a great many dreams, but this was not one of them," +responded Cicely. "Wait; it will come to me." + +"Take her back to the camp; carry her," said Eve, in a sharp voice. + +"Oh, she'll come without that," Paul answered, smiling at the peremptory +tone. + +"You go first, then. I will bring her." + +"Don't leave me alone with Eve," pleaded Cicely, shrinking close to +Paul. + +"Take her back," said Eve. And her voice expressed such acute suffering +that Paul did his best to content her. + +"Come," he said, gently, taking Cicely's hand. + +"A moment," answered Cicely, putting her other hand on Paul's arm, as if +to hold his attention. "And then she said: 'Don't you remember that we +escaped through the woods to the north point, and that you tried to push +off the boat, and couldn't. Don't you remember that gleam of the candle +down the dark road?'" + +Eve made an involuntary movement. + +"I wonder what candle she could have been thinking of!" pursued Cicely, +in a musing voice. "There are a great many candles in the Catholic +churches, that I know." + +Eve looked across at Paul with triumph in her eyes. + +"And she said that a baby climbed up by one of the seats," Cicely went +on. "And that this man--I don't know who he was, exactly--made a dash +forward--" Here she lost the thread, and stopped. Then she began again: +"She took me away ever so far--we went in a steamboat; and Ferdie died +all alone! You _can't_ like her for that, Paul; you can't!" Her face +altered. "Why don't I see him over there on the other beach?" she asked, +quickly. + +"You see?" said Eve, with trembling lips. + +"Yes," answered Paul, watching the quivering motion. "We haven't had our +walk, Eve; remember that." + +"I can come out again. After we have got her back." + +Cicely had ceased speaking. She turned and searched Eve's face with eyes +that dwelt and lingered. "How happy you look, Eve! And yet I am sure you +have no right to be happy, I am sure there is some reason--The trouble +is that I can't remember what it is! Perhaps it will come to me yet," +she added, threateningly. + +Paul, drew her away; he took her back to the camp. + +That evening, Eve came to him on the beach. + +"Do you love me? Do you love me the same as ever?" she said. + +He could scarcely hear her. + +"Do you think I have had time to change since afternoon?" he asked, +laughing. + +And then life came back to the woman by his side, came in the red that +flushed her cheeks and her white throat, in her revived breath. + +"Paul," she said, after a while, "send Cicely home; send her home with +her grandfather, she can travel now without danger." + +"I can't desert Cicely," said Paul, surprised. + +"It wouldn't be desertion; you can always help her. And she would be +much happier there than here." + +"She's not going to be very happy anywhere, I am afraid." + +"The judge would be happier, too," said Eve, shifting her ground. + +"I dare say. Poor old man!" + +"A winter in Port aux Pins would kill him," Eve continued. + +"I intended to take them south before the real winter, the deep snow." + +"Mrs. Mile could go now. And--and perhaps Mr. Hollis." + +"Kit? What could Kit do down there?" + +"Marry Miss Sabrina," suggested Eve, with a sudden burst of wild +laughter, in which Paul joined. + +"They are all to go, are they? But you and I are not to go; is that your +plan?" he went on. + +"Yes." + +He kissed her. "Paul Tennant and his wife will take Cicely south +themselves," he said, stroking her hair caressingly. "It's always +braided so closely, Eve; how long is it when down?" + +But she did not hear these whispered words; she drew herself away from +him with passionate strength. "No, she must go with some one else; she +can go with any one you please; we can have two nurses, instead of one. +But you--you must not go; you must stay with me." + +"Why, Eve, I hardly know you! Why do you feel so about poor little +Cicely? Why strike a person who's down?" + +"Oh, yes--down; that is what you all say. Yet she has had everything, +even if she has lost it now; and some people go through all their lives +without one single thing they really care for. She shall not rob me of +this, I will not let her. I defy her; I defy her!" + +"She shall go back to Romney," said Paul. What these disagreements +between the two women were about, he did not know. His idea was that he +would marry Eve as soon as possible--within the next ten days; and then, +after they were married, he would tell her that it was best that they +should take Cicely south themselves. She would see the good sense of his +decision, she would not dispute his judgment when once she was his wife; +she could not have any real dislike for poor little Cicely, that was +impossible. + +Eve came back to him humbly enough. "I am afraid you do not like my +interfering with your plans?" she said. + +"You may interfere as much as you like," answered Paul, smiling. + + + + +XXVIII. + + +The next day Paul started at dawn for Port aux Pins, he wished to make +the house ready for his wife; he had not much money, but there was one +room in the plain cottage which should be beautiful. No suspicion came +to him that there would be any difficulty in making it beautiful; his +idea was simply that it was a matter of new furniture. + +He reached Port aux Pins at night, and let himself into his cottage with +his key; lighting a candle, he went to his room. He had never been +dissatisfied with this simple apartment, he was not dissatisfied now; +there was a good closet, where he could hang up his clothes; there was a +broad shelf, where he could put his hand in the dark upon anything which +he might want; there was his iron bedstead, and there was his white-pine +bureau; two wooden chairs; a wash-hand stand, with a large bowl; a huge +tin pail for water, a flat bath-tub in position on the floor, and plenty +of towels and sponges--what could man want more? + +But a woman would want more; and he gave a little laugh, which had a +thrill in it, as he thought of Eve standing there, and looking about her +at his plain masculine arrangements. The bare floor would not please +her, perhaps; he must order a carpet. "Turkey," he thought, vaguely; he +had heard the word, and supposed that it signified something very light +in color, with a great many brilliant roses. "Perhaps there ought to be +a few more little things," he said to himself, doubtfully. Then, after +another moment's survey: "But I needn't be disturbed, she'll soon fill +it full of tottlish little tables and dimity; she'll flounce everything +with white muslin, and tie everything with blue ribbons; she'll overflow +into the next room too, this won't be enough for her. Perhaps I'd better +throw the two into one, with a big fireplace--I know she likes big +fireplaces; if it's as large as that, I sha'n't be suffocated, even with +all her muslin." And, with another fond laugh, he turned in. + +The morning after Paul's departure, Eve did not go near Cicely; she +asked Mrs. Mile, in a tone which even that unimaginative woman found +haughty, how Mrs. Morrison was. (In reality the haughtiness hid a +trembling fear.) + +"She seems better, Miss Bruce, as regards her physical state. Truth +compels me to add, however, that she says extremely irrational things." + +"What things?" asked Eve, with a pang of dread. For the things which +Mrs. Mile would call irrational might indicate that Cicely was herself +again, Mrs. Mile's idea of the rational being always the commonplace. + +"When she first woke, ma'am, she said, 'Oh, what a splendid wind!--how +it does blow! I must go out and run and run. Can you run, Priscilla +Jane?'--when my name, ma'am, is Priscilla Ann. Seeing that she was so +lively, I began to tell her a dream which I had had. She interrupted me: +'Dreams are the reflections of our thoughts by day, Priscilla Jane. I +know your thoughts by day; they are wearing. I don't want repetitions of +them by night, I should be ground to powder.' Now, ma'am, could anything +be more irrational?" + +"She is herself again!" thought Eve. She went off into the forest, and +did not return until the noon meal was over. Going to the kitchen, she +ate some bread, she was fond of dry bread; coming back after this frugal +repast, she still avoided Cicely's lodge, she went down to the beach. +Here her restlessness ceased for the moment; she sat looking over the +water, her eyes not seeing it, seeing only Paul. After half an hour, +Hollis, with simulated carelessness, passed that way and stopped. As +soon as he saw her face he said to himself, "They are to be married +immediately!" + +"We sha'n't be staying much longer at Jupiter Light, I guess," he said +aloud, in a jocular tone. + +"No," Eve answered. "The summer is really over," she added, as if in +explanation. + +"Don't look much like it to-day." + +She made no reply. + +"Paul went back to Potterpins rather in a hurry, didn't he?" pursued +Hollis, playing with his misery. + +"Yes.--He has a good deal to do," she continued. If he could not resist +playing with his misery, neither could she help exulting in her +happiness, parading it for her own joy in spoken words; it made it more +real. + +"Good deal to do? He didn't tell me about it; perhaps I could have +helped him," Hollis went on awkwardly, but looking at her with all his +heart in his eyes--his poor, hungry, unsatisfied old heart. + +"You _could_ be of use to us," said Eve, suddenly; ("Us!" thought +Hollis.)--"the very greatest, Mr. Hollis. If you would go south with +Judge Abercrombie and Mrs. Morrison it would be everything. They will +probably go in a week or ten days, and Mrs. Mile accompanies them; but +if you could go too, it would be much safer." + +"And you to stay in Port aux Pins with Paul," thought Hollis. "I don't +grudge it to you, Evie, God knows I don't--may you be very happy, sweet +one! But I shall have to get out of this all the same. I'm ashamed of +myself, old fellow that I am, but I can't stand it, I can't! I shall +have to clear out. I'll go west." + +Eve, meanwhile, was waiting for his reply. "Of course, Miss Bruce," he +answered aloud, "should like nothing better than a little run down +South. Why, the old judge and me, we'll make a regular spree of it!" And +he slapped his leg in confirmation. + +Eve gave him a bright smile by way of thanks. But she was too much +absorbed to talk long with anybody, and presently she left him, taking a +path through the woods. + +In fifteen minutes her restlessness brought her back again. She stopped +at the edge of the camp; Porley, near by, was making "houses"--that is, +squares and pyramids of the little pebbles of the beach, which Master +Jack demolished when completed, with the air of a conqueror. "Porley, go +and ask the nurse how Mrs. Morrison is now;--whether she is more quiet." + +"Mis' Morrison, she's ebber so much weller to-day," volunteered Porley. +"When she _ain't_ so quiet, Miss Bruce--droppin' off inter naps all de +time--_den_ she's weller." + +"Do as I tell you," said Eve. + +The girl went off. + +"House," demanded Jack. + +Eve took him on her shoulder instead. + +"Sing to Jacky; poor, _poor_ Jacky!" said the child, gleefully. + +"Mis' Mile, she say Mis' Morrison done gone ter sleep dish yere minute," +reported Porley, with a crestfallen air, returning. + +Eve's spirits rose. "Oh, Jack, naughty boy!" She laughed convulsively, +lifting up her shoulder, as the child tried to insert one of his pebbles +under her linen collar, selecting a particularly ticklish spot on her +throat for the purpose.--"Do you want to go out on the lake?" + +Jack dropped his pebble; he was always wild with delight at the prospect +of a voyage. Porley picked up his straw hat, and brought his little +coat, in case the air should grow cool; in ten minutes they were afloat. +Eve turned the canoe down the lake, rowing eastward. + +After a voyage of twenty minutes, she headed the boat shoreward and +landed; the woods hereabout had a gray-green look which tempted her; +they brought back the memory of that first walk with Paul. "See to +Jack," she said to Porley briefly, lifting the child safely to the +beach. "I shall be back soon." Entering the wood, she walked on at +random, keeping within sight of the water. + +She was lost in a day-dream, one of those day-dreams which come +sometimes to certain temperaments with such vividness that the real +world disappears; she was with Paul, she was looking at him, his arm was +round her, their future life together unrolled itself before her day by +day, hour by hour, in all its details; in her happiness, all remembrance +of anything else vanished away. + +How long this state lasted she never knew. At a certain point a distant +cry crossed the still ecstasy; but it reached her vaguely, it did not +bring her back. A second summons was more distinct; but it seemed an +impertinence which it was not necessary to answer. A third time came the +sound, and now there were syllables: "Miss E-eve! Miss E-eve!" Then, a +moment later, "Oh, _Ba-by_!" She recognized the shrillness of a negro +woman's voice--it was Porley. "Baby?" That could only mean Jack! The +trance was over, she felt as if a whip had been brought suddenly down +upon her shoulders. She rushed to the lake, and from there along the +beach towards the spot where she had left the child. + +The screams grew louder. A bend hid that part of the beach from her +view; would she never reach the end of that bend! She was possessed by a +great fear. "Oh, don't let anything happen to baby!" She could not have +told herself to whom she was appealing. + +At last she reached the curve, she saw what had happened: the child, +alone in the canoe, had been carried out to deep water. + +Porley, frantic with grief, had waded out as far as she could; she was +standing with the water up to her chin, sobbing aloud. Eve's flushed +face turned white. She beckoned to Porley to come to her. Then she +forced herself to stand motionless, in order to recover her breath. As +Porley came up, "Stop crying!" she commanded. "We must not frighten him. +Go back under the trees where he cannot see you, and sit there quietly; +don't speak." + +When she was left alone, she went up the beach until she was on a line +with the canoe; the boat moved waywardly and slowly, but it was being +carried all the time still farther from the shore. "Jacky, are you +having a good time out there?" she called, with a smiling face, as +though the escapade had been his own, and he had cleverly outwitted +them. + +There was not a grain of the coward in the child. "Ess," he called back, +triumphantly. He was sitting on a folded shawl in the bottom of the +canoe, holding on with his hands to the sides; his eyes came just above +its edge. + +"Aunty Eve is going to get a boat and come out after you," Eve went on; +"then we'll go fishing. But Jack must sit perfectly still, or else she +won't come; perfectly still. Does Jacky hear?" + +"Ess," called Jack again. + +"If you are tired, put your head down and go to sleep. Aunty Eve will +come, soon if you are still; not if you move about." + +"I's still," called Jack, in a high key. + +"If there was only a man here!--a man could swim out and bring the boat +in," she thought, wringing her hands, and then stopping lest Jack should +see the motion. She did not allow herself to think--"If _Paul_ were only +here!" It was on Paul's account, to be able to think of him by herself, +to dream of their daily life together--it was for this that she had left +her brother's child on that solitary beach, with only a careless negro +girl to watch over him! But there was no man near, and there was no +second boat. The canoe was already visibly farther away; little Jack's +eyes, looking at her, were becoming indistinct, she could see only the +outline of his head and the yellow of his curls. She waved her hand to +him and sang, clearly and gayly: + + "Row the boat, row the boat, up to the strand; + Before our door there is dry land--" + +And Jack answered with a distant "Ess." Then he tried to go on with it. +"Who pums idder, all booted an' spur-r-rd," he chanted, straining his +little lungs to the utmost, so that his auntie should hear him. + +The tears poured down Eve's cheeks as she heard the baby voice; she knew +he could not see them. For an instant, she thought of trying to swim out +to him herself. "I can swim. It isn't very far." She began to unbutton +her boots. But should she have the strength to bring him in, either in +the canoe or in her arms? And if she should sink, there would be no one +to save Jack. She rebuttoned her boots and ran to Porley. "Go to the +beach, and walk up and down where Jack can see you. Call to him once in +a while, but not too often; call gayly, don't let him see that you are +frightened; if he thinks you are frightened, he will become frightened +himself and move about; then he will upset the boat. Do you understand +what I mean? I am going back to the camp for another canoe. Keep him in +sight; and try--do try to be sensible." + +She was off. Without much hope she began her race. Before she passed +beyond hearing, Porley's voice came to her: "Hi-yi, Jack! Yo're kyar'in +on now, ain't yer? Splendid fun, sho! Wisht I was 'long!" And then +followed a high chuckle, which Porley intended as a laugh. At least the +girl had understood. + +Eve could run very swiftly; her light figure, with its long step, made +running easy to her. Yet each minute was now so precious that +instinctively she used every precaution: she let her arms hang +lifelessly, so that no energy should be spent in poising them; she kept +her lips apart, and her eyes fixed on the beach about two yards in +advance of her, so that she could select as she ran the best places for +her feet, and avoid the loose stones. Her slender feet, too (undressed +they were models for a sculptor), aided her by their elasticity; she +wore a light boot, longer than her foot, and the silken web of her +stocking was longer, so that her step was never cramped. But she could +not run as rapidly as her canoe had skimmed the water under her strong +strokes when it had brought her here; and that voyage had lasted twenty +minutes; she remembered this with dread. For a while she ran +rapidly--too rapidly; then, feeling that her breath was labored, she +forced herself to slacken her pace and make it more regular; as much as +possible like a machine. Thus she ran on. Once she was obliged to stop. +Then she fell into a long swinging step, throwing her body forward a +little from right to left as her weight fell now upon one foot, now upon +the other, and this change was such a relief that she felt as if she +could run the remaining distance with comparative ease. But before she +reached the camp, she had come to the end of all her arrangements and +experiments; she was desperate, panting. + +"If I can only keep on until they see me!" + +The camp had an unusually quiet look; so far as her eyes, injected with +red by the effort she had made, could see, there were no moving figures +anywhere; no one sitting on the benches; no one on the beach. Where were +all the people?--what could have become of them? Hollis and the +judge?--even the cook and the Irishmen? Nothing stirred; it seemed to +her as if the very leaves on the trees and the waters of the lake had +been struck by an unnatural calm. She came to the first stakes, where +the nets were sometimes spread out. The nets were not there now. Then +she came to the cistern--a sunken cask to which water was brought from +an ice-cold spring; still no sound. Then the wood-pile; the Irishmen had +evidently been adding to it that day, for an axe remained in a severed +trunk; but no one was there. Though she had kept up her pace without +break as she ran past these familiar objects, there was now a singing in +her ears, and she could scarcely see, everything being rimmed by the +hot, red blur which seemed to exhale from her own eyes. She reached the +line of lodges at last; leaving the beach, and going through the wood, +she went straight to Cicely's door. It was closed. She opened it. +"Cicely!" she said, or rather her lips formed the name without a sound. + +"What is the matter? Where is Jack?" cried Cicely, springing up as soon +as she saw Eve's face. + +They met, grasping each other's hands. + +"Where is he? What have you done with him?" Cicely repeated, holding Eve +with a grasp of iron. + +Eve could not talk. But she felt the agony in the mother's cry. "Safe," +she articulated. + +Cicely relaxed her hold. Eve sank to her knees; thence to the floor. + +Cicely seemed to understand; she brought a pillow with business-like +swiftness, and placed it under Eve's head; then she waited. Eve's eyes +were closed; her throat and chest labored so, as she lay with her head +thrown back, that Cicely bent down and quickly took out the little +arrow-pin, and unbuttoned the top buttons of her dress. This relieved +Eve; the convulsive panting grew quiet. + +But with her first long breath she was on her feet again. "Come!" she +said. She opened the door and left the lodge, hurrying down to the +beach; thence she ran westward along the shore to the point where the +canoes were kept. Cicely ran by her side without speaking; they had no +need of words. + +Reaching the boats, Eve began to push one of them towards the water. +"Call Mr. Hollis;--go up to the edge of the wood and call," she said to +Cicely, briefly. + +"Gone fishing," Cicely responded, helping to push the boat on the other +side. + +At this moment some one appeared--one of the Irishmen. + +"Take him and follow in that other canoe," said Eve. "We want all the +help we can get." + +As they pushed off rapidly--three minutes had not passed since they left +the lodge--Priscilla Mile came hurrying down to the shore; she had been +taking her daily exercise--a brisk walk of half an hour, timed by her +watch. "Mrs. Morrison, Mrs. Morrison, where are you going? Take me with +you." + +Cicely did not even look at her. "Go on," she said to the man. + +Eve was paddling rapidly; the second canoe followed hers. + +When Mrs. Mile found that the two boats kept on their course, she went +back to the lodge, put on her bonnet and shawl, and set off down the +beach in the direction in which they were going, walking with steady +steps, the shawl compactly pinned with two strong shawl-pins +representing beetles. + +As soon as they were fairly afloat, Cicely called: "Where is Jack? Tell +me about it." + +"Presently," answered Eve, without turning her head. + +"No. _Now_!" said the mother, peremptorily. + +"He is out on the lake, in the canoe." + +"Alone?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh! and it's getting towards night! Row faster; what is the matter with +you?" (This to the Irishman.) "Eve, wait; how far out is he?" + +"It's very calm," Eve answered. + +"But in the dark we can never find him," wailed the mother, in a broken +voice. + +Eve made swift, tireless strokes. The Irishman could not keep up with +her. + +It was growing towards night, as Cicely had said; the days were shorter +now; clouds were gathering too, though the air and water remained +strangely still; the night would be dark. + +"Your arms are like willow twigs, you have no strength," said Cicely to +the Irishman. "Hurry!" + +The man had plenty of strength, and was exerting every atom of it. Still +Eve kept ahead of him. "Oh, Jack!" she said to herself, "let me be in +time!" It was her brother to whom she was appealing. + +She reached the spot where she had left Porley; but there was no Porley +there. Without stopping, she paddled on eastward; Cicely's canoe was now +some distance behind. Fifteen minutes more and she saw Porley, she rowed +in rapidly. "Where is he?" + +"Dair!" answered Porley, pointing over the darkening water with a +gesture that was tragic in its despair. + +At first Eve saw nothing; then she distinguished a black speck, she +pointed towards it with her paddle. + +"Yass'm, dat's him. I 'ain't nebber take my yies off 'em," said the +girl, crying. + +"Tell Mrs. Morrison. She's coming," said Eve. She turned her boat and +paddled out rapidly towards the speck. + +"If I only had matches--why didn't I bring some? It will be dark soon. +But it's so calm that nothing can have happened to him; he will be +asleep." In spite of her pretended certainty, however, dread held her +heart as in a vise. "I won't think--only row." She tried to keep her +mind a blank, resorting to the device of counting her strokes with great +interest. On the light craft sped, with the peculiar skimming motion of +the Indian canoe, as if it were gliding on the surface of the water. The +twilight grew deeper. + +There came a little gust, lightning showed itself for an instant in the +bank of clouds across the southern sky. "There is going to be a storm." +She stopped; the other boat, which had been following her swiftly, came +up. + +"Have you ever been out in a canoe in a storm?" she called to the +Irishman, keeping her own boat well away from Cicely's. + +"No, mum." + +"Take Mrs. Morrison back to shore, then, as fast as you can." + +"Go on!" commanded Cicely, with flashing eyes. + +There came another gust. The man, perplexed by the contrary orders, made +wrong strokes; the boat careened, then righted itself. + +"Take her back," called Eve, starting onward again. + +"Follow that canoe!" said Cicely. + +The man tried to obey Cicely; to intensify his obedience he stood up and +paddled with his back bent. There came another flurry of wind; his boat +careened again, and he lost his balance, he gave a yell. For a moment +Eve thought that he had gone overboard. But he had only crouched. "Go +back--while you can," she called, warningly. + +And this time he obeyed her. + +"Eve, take me with you--take me!" cried Cicely, in a tone that went to +the heart. + +"We needn't both of us die," Eve answered, calling back for the last +time. + +As she went forward on her course, lightning began to show itself +frequently in pallid forks on the dark cloud-bank. "If only there's no +gale!" she thought. Through these minutes she had been able to +distinguish what she supposed was the baby's canoe; but now she lost it. +She rowed on at random; then she began to call. Nothing answered. The +lightning grew brighter, and she blessed the flashes; they would show +her, perhaps, what she was in search of; with every gleam she scanned +the lake in a different direction. But she saw nothing. She called +again: "Jacky! Jack-y!" A great bird flew by, close over her head, and +startled her; its wings made a rushing sound. "Jack-y! Jack-y!" She +rowed on, calling loudly. + +It was now perfectly dark. Presently an unusually brilliant gleam +revealed for an instant a dark object on her left. She rowed towards it. +"Jacky, speak to Aunty Eve. Aunty Eve is close beside you." She put her +whole heart into this cry; then she waited, breathless. + +From a distance came a sound, the sweetest which Eve Bruce had ever +heard. "Ess," said Jack's brave little voice. + +She tried to row towards it. Before she could reach the spot a wind +coming from the south drove her canoe back. "Jacky, Jacky, say yes +again." + +"Ess," said the voice, fainter, and farther away. + +The wind was stronger now, and it began to make a noise too, as it +crossed the lake. + +"Jacky, Jacky, you _must_ answer me." + +"Ess." + +A crashing peal of thunder broke over their heads; when it had ceased, +she could hear the poor little lad crying. His boat must have drifted, +for his voice came from a new direction. + +"I am coming directly to you, Jacky," she called, altering her course +rapidly. + +The thunder began again, and filled her ears. When it ceased, all was +still. + +"Jacky! Jacky!" + +No answer. + +And now there came another cry: "Eve, where are you? Wait for me." It +was Cicely. + +"This way," called Eve. + +She never dreamed that Cicely was alone; she supposed that the Irishman +had taken heart of grace and ventured back. But presently a canoe +touched hers, and there in the night she saw Cicely all alone, like a +phantom. "Baby?" demanded Cicely, holding the edge of Eve's boat. + +"I heard him only a moment ago," answered Eve, as excited as herself. +"Jacky! Jacky!" + +No reply. + +Then Cicely's voice sounded forth clearly: "It's mamma, Jack. Speak to +mamma." + +"Mam-ma!" came the answer. A distant sound, but full of joy. + +Eve put her paddle in the water again. "Wait," said Cicely. And she +stepped from her canoe into Eve's, performing the difficult feat without +hesitation or tremor. The other canoe was abandoned, and Eve was off +with a strong stroke. + +"Call," she said. + +Cicely called, and Jack answered. + +"Call again." + +"His poor little throat will be so tired!" said Cicely, her own voice +trembling. + +"We _must_," said Eve. + +"Jack-y!" + +"Ess." + +On they went, never reaching him, though he answered four times; for, in +spite of the intensity of Eve's exertion, the sound constantly changed +its direction. Cicely called to her child, she sang to him; she even +laughed. "How slow you are!" she said to Eve. "Don't stop." + +"I stopped to listen." + +But presently they were both listening in vain. Jack's voice had ceased. + +The wind now blew not in gusts, but steadily. Eve still rowed with all +her strength, in reality at random, though; with each new flash of +lightning she took a new direction, so that her course resembled the +spokes of a wheel. + +"He has of course fallen asleep," said Cicely. "He is always so good +about going to bed." + +Their canoe now rose and fell perceptibly; the tranquillity of the lake +was broken, it was no longer gray glass, nor a black floor; first there +was a swell; then little waves showed themselves; by-and-by these waves +had crests. Eve, kneeling on the bottom, exerted all her intelligence to +keep the boat in the right position. + +"These canoes never tip over when left alone; it's only when people try +to guide them," said Cicely, confidently. "Now Jack's just like no one; +he's so very light, you know." + +Words were becoming difficult, their canoe rose on the crest of one +wave, then plunged down into the hollow behind it; then rose on the +next. A light flared out on their left; it was low down, seeming below +their own level. + +"They have kindled--a fire--on the beach," called Eve. She was obliged +to call now, though Cicely was so near. + +"Yes. Porley," Cicely answered. + +They were not so far out as they had thought; the light of the fire +showed that. Perhaps they had been going round in a circle. + +Eve was now letting the boat drift; Jack's canoe was drifting, the same +currents and wind might take theirs in the same direction; it was not +very long since they had heard his last cry, he could not be far away. +The lightning had begun to come in great sheets of white light; these +were blinding, but if one could bear to look, they lit up the surface of +the water for an instant with extraordinary distinctness. Cicely, from +her babyhood so impressionable to lightning, let its glare sweep over +her unmoved; but her beautiful eyes were near-sighted, she could not +see far. Eve, on the contrary, had strong eyesight, and after what +seemed a long time (it was five minutes), she distinguished a dark, low +outline very near at hand; she sent the boat in that direction with all +her might. + +"It's Jack!" she called to Cicely. + +Cicely, holding on to the sides of the canoe, kept her head turned, +peering forward with her unseeing eyes into the alternating darkness and +dazzling glare. The flashes were so near sometimes that it seemed as if +they would sweep across them, touch them, and shrivel them up. + +Now they approached the other boat; they came up to it on the crest of a +wave. Cicely took hold of its edge, and the two boats went down into the +hollow behind together. + +"Sit--in the centre--as much--as you can," Eve shouted. Then, being the +taller, she rose, and in the next flash looked within. There lay Jack in +the bottom, probably unconscious, a still little figure with a white +face. + +"He's there," she called, triumphantly. And then they went up on the +next wave together, and down again. + +"Slip--your hand--along--to the end," Eve called. + +Cicely obeyed. + +The second canoe, which all her strength had scarcely been able to hold +alongside, now accompanied them more easily, towed by its stern. If it +could have followed them instead of accompanying them, that would have +been easier still; but Cicely's seat was at the bow, and Eve did not +dare to risk a change of places; with the boat in tow, she paddled +towards the shore as well as she could, guided by the fire, which was +large and bright, poor Porley, owing to whose carelessness in the second +place the accident had occurred (Eve's in the first place), expending in +the collecting of dry fuel all the energy of her repentance and her +grief. They were not very far out, but progress was difficult; Eve was +not an expert; she did not know how to allow for the opposition, the +dead weight, of the second canoe attached to the bow of her own; every +now and then, owing to her lack of skill, the wind would strike it, and +drive it from her so strongly that it seemed as if the connecting link, +Cicely's little arm, would be drawn from its socket. The red glow of the +fire looked human and home-like to these wanderers,--should they ever +reach it? The waves grew more formidable as they approached the +beach,--they were like breakers; Eve did her best, yet their progress +seemed snail-like. At length, when they were so far in that she could +distinguish the figures of Porley and the Irishman outlined against the +fire, there came a breaker which struck the second canoe full on its +side, filling it with water. Cicely gave a wild shriek of rage as it was +forced from her grasp. At the same instant the aunt, leaving the paddle +behind her, sprang into the sinking craft, and, seizing the child, went +down with him into the dark lake. + +She came up again, grasping the side of the boat; with one arm she +lifted the boy, and gave him to his mother, an enormous effort, as his +little body was rigid and heavy--like death. + +And then they got ashore, they hardly knew how, though it took a long +time, Eve clinging to the stern and Cicely paddling, her child at her +feet; the Irishman came to their assistance as soon as he could, the +wind drove them towards the beach; Porley helped when it came to the +landing. In reality they were blown ashore. + +Jack was restored. As Eve ceased her rubbing--she had worked over him +for twenty minutes--and gave him alive and warm again to his mother's +arms, Cicely kissed her cheek. "Bend down your head, Eve; I want to tell +you that I forgive you everything. There is nothing the matter with me +now; I understand and know--all; yet I forgive you,--because you have +saved my child." + + + + +XXIX. + + +Priscilla Mile, close-reefed as to her skirts, and walking solidly, +reached the shipwrecked party soon after nine o'clock; as she came by +the beach, the brilliant light of Porley's fire guided her, as it had +guided Cicely and Eve out on the dark lake. Priscilla asked no +questions, her keen eyes took in immediately Eve's wet clothes and +Jack's no clothes, the child being wrapped merely in a shawl. She said +to the Irishman, who was wet also: "Patrick Carty, you go back to the +camp, you run just as fast as you can split; tell them what's happened, +and let them send for us as soon as they can. 'Taint going to rain much, +I guess." + +The man hesitated. + +"Well, what are you about?" asked Mrs. Mile, walking up to him +threateningly, her beetle shawl-pins shining in the fire-light. + +The Irishman, who had been in a confused state ever since Cicely had +forced his canoe into the water again after he had hauled it up on the +beach, and had beaten his hands off fiercely with the oar when he had +tried to stop her progress--a little creature like that turning suddenly +so strong--answered, hurriedly, "It's goin' I am; ye can see it +yersilf!" and was off like a shot. "_Wan_ attack from a fimmale will +do!" was his thought. + +The nurse then effected a change of dress; with the aid of part of her +own clothing and part of Cicely's and Porley's, she got Eve and Jack +into dry garments of some sort, Jack being wrapped in a flannel +petticoat. The wind had grown much more violent, but the strange +atmospheric conditions had passed away; the lightning had ceased. It was +now an ordinary gale, the waves dashed over the beach, and the wind +drove by with a shriek; but it was not cold. The four women sheltered +themselves as well as they could, Cicely holding Jack closely; she would +not let any one else touch him. + +A little after two o'clock the crouched group heard a sound, and Hollis +appeared in the circle of light shed by the flaring wind-swept fire. He +bore a load of provisions and garments in baskets, in a sack suspended +from his neck, in bags dangling from his arms, as well as in his hands +and pockets; he had even brought a tea-kettle; it was a wonder how he +had come so far with such a load, the wind bending him double. Priscilla +Mile made tea as methodically as though the open beach, with the roaring +water and the shrieking gale, had been a quiet room. Hollis watched them +eat with an eagerness so intense that unconsciously his face made +masticating movements in sympathy. When they had finished, a start +passed over him, as if he were awakening, and, making a trumpet of his +hands, he shouted to Cicely: "Must go now; 'f I don't, the old +_judge_'ll be trying to get here. Back--with _boat_--soon as _ca-a-an_." + +"I'll take your _coat_, if you don't mind," said Mrs. Mile, shrieking at +him in her turn; "then Miss _Bruce_ can have this _shawl_." And she +tapped her chest violently to show him her meaning. Hollis denuded +himself, and started. + +With the first light of dawn he was back. They reached the camp about +ten o'clock the next morning. + +At three in the afternoon Cicely woke from a sleep of four hours. Her +first movement was to feel for Jack. + +Jack was sitting beside her, playing composedly with four spools and a +little wooden horse on rollers. + +"We'd better dress him now, hadn't we?" suggested Mrs. Mile, coming +forward. She spoke in her agreeing voice; Mrs. Mile's voice agreed +beforehand that her patients should agree with her. + +"I will dress him," said Cicely, rising. + +"I wouldn't, now, if I were you, Mrs. Morrison; you're not strong +enough." + +"Where is my dress?" asked Cicely, looking about her. + +"You don't want anything, surely, but your pretty blue wrapper?" said +Mrs. Mile, taking it from its nail. + +"Bring me my thick dress and my walking-shoes, please." + +They were brought. + +Eve came in while Cicely was dressing. + +"Eve, who is this person?" Cicely demanded, indicating the nurse with a +sideward wave of her head. + +"Oh, I'm just a lady's maid--they thought you'd better have one; Porley, +in that way, you know, isn't good for much," answered Mrs. Mile, +readily. + +"Whatever you are, I shall not need your services longer," said Cicely. +"Do you think you could go to-night?" + +"Certainly, ma'am; by the evening boat." + +"There is no evening boat. I must have been ill a long while,--you talk +in such a wheedling manner. I am well now, at any rate, and you can +return to Port aux Pins whenever you like; no doubt you have been much +missed there." + +Mrs. Mile, giving Eve a significant look, went out. + +The storm was over, but the air had turned much colder; the windows of +the lodge were closed. Eve seated herself by the east window. + +"I have been ill, then?" asked Cicely. + +"Yes." + +"I have been out of my mind?" + +"Yes," Eve answered again, in a listless voice. + +"I'm not so any longer,--you understand that?" + +"I understand," Eve responded. + +Her cheeks were white, the lines of her face and figure had fallen; she +looked lifeless. + +Cicely stopped her work of dressing Jack, and gazed at her sister-in-law +for a moment or two; then she came and stood before her. "Perhaps you +didn't understand what I said on the beach? I told you that I remembered +everything, knew everything. And that I forgave you because you had +saved baby; you jumped into the lake and saved him." She paused a +moment; "I forgive you--yes; but never let us speak of it again--never +on this earth;--do you hear?" And, putting her hands on Eve's shoulders, +she pressed the palms down violently, as emphasis. + +Then going back to Jack, she resumed the dressing. "It's the strangest +thing in the world about a child. When it comes, you think you don't +care about it--little red thing!--that you love your husband a million +times more, as of course in many ways you do. But a new feeling comes +too, a feeling that's like no other; it takes possession of you whether +you want it to or not; it's stronger than anything else--than life or +death. You would let yourself be cut to pieces, burned alive, for your +_child_. Something came burning right through me when I knew that Jacky +was in danger.--Never mind, Jacky, play away; mamma's not frightened +now, and Jacky's her own brave boy.--It made everything clear, and I +came to myself instantly. I shall never lose my senses again; though I +might want to, I'm so miserable." + +"And I, who think you fortunate!" said Eve. + +Cicely turned her head and looked at her with parted lips. + +"Ferdie loved you--" + +"Oh, he cared for others too," said Cicely, bringing her little teeth +together. "I know more than you think;--than Paul thinks." She went on +hurriedly with her task. + +A quiver had passed over Eve at the name. "You loved him, and he was +your husband. But Paul can never take _me_ for his wife; you forgive, +but he couldn't." + +"You love Paul, then; is that it?" said Cicely, turning round again. +"Now I remember--that day when I saw you in the woods. Why, Eve, he +_did_ forgive you, he had you in his arms." + +"He did not know. He does not know now." + +"You haven't told him?" + +"I couldn't." + +Cicely paused, consideringly. "No, you could not," she said, with +conviction. "And he can never marry you." She sat down on the side of +the bed and folded her hands. + +"Not when he knows," Eve answered. + +"And were you going to deceive him, not let him know?" + +"That is what I tried to do," said Eve, sombrely. "You were the only +person who knew (you knew because I had told you), and you were out of +your mind; his love came to me,--I took it." + +"Especially as you loved him!" + +"Yes, I loved him." + +"I'm glad you do," said Cicely; "now you won't be so lofty. _Now_ you +understand, perhaps, how I felt about Ferdie, and why I didn't mind, no +matter what he did?" + +"Yes, now I understand." + +"Go on; what made you change your mind? Was it because I had got back my +senses, and you were afraid I should tell?" She spoke with a jeer in her +voice. + +"No; it changed of itself when I saw baby out in that boat alone--my +brother's poor little child. I said then,'O, let me save him, and I'll +give up everything!'" + +"And supposing that nothing had happened to Jack, and that I had not +got back my senses, how could you even then have married Paul, Eve +Bruce?--let let him take as his wife a woman who did what you did?" + +"What I did was not wrong," said Eve, rising, a spot of red in each +cheek. She looked down upon little Cicely. "It was not wrong," she +repeated, firmly. + +"'Blood for blood'?" quoted Cicely, with another jeer. + +"Yes, that is what Paul said," Eve answered. And she sank down again, +her face in her hands. + +"You say you have given him up;--are you going to tell him the reason +why you do it?" pursued Cicely, with curiosity. + +"How can I?" + +"Well, it would keep him from pursuing you,--if he does pursue." + +"I don't want him to stop!" + +"Oh! you're not in earnest, then; you are going to marry him, after all? +See here, Eve, I'll be good; I'll never tell him, I'll promise." + +"No," said Eve, letting her hands fall; "I gave him up when I said, 'If +I can only save baby!'" Her face had grown white again, her voice dull. + +"What are you afraid of? Hell? At least you would have had Paul here. +_I_ should care more for that than for anything else." + +"We're alike!" said Eve. + +"If we are, do it, then; I should. It's a muddle, but that is the best +way out of it." + +"You don't understand," Eve replied. "What I'm afraid of is Paul +himself." + +"When he finds out?" + +"Yes." + +"I told you I wouldn't tell." + +"Oh, any time; after death--in the next world." + +"You believe in the next world, then?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I should take all the happiness I could get in this," remarked +Cicely. + +"I care for it more than you do--more than you do?" said Eve, +passionately. + +Cicely gave a laugh of pure incredulity. + +"But I _cannot_ face it--his finding out," Eve concluded. + +Cicely gazed at her. "How handsome you are to-day! What are men, after +all? Poor things compared to _us_. What wouldn't we do for them when we +love them?--what _don't_ we do? And what do they ever do for us in +comparison? Paul--he ought to be at your feet for such a love as you +have given him; instead of that, we both know that he _would_ mind; that +he couldn't rise above it, couldn't forget. See here"--she ran to Eve, +and put her arms round her, excitedly--"supposing that he is better than +we think,--supposing that I should go to him and tell him the whole, and +that he should come here and say: 'What difference does that make, Eve? +We will be married to-morrow.'" And she looked up at Eve, her dark +little face flushed for the moment with unselfish hopefulness. + +"No," answered Eve, slowly, "he couldn't, he loved Ferdie so!" She +raised her right hand and looked at it. "He would see me holding +it--taking aim--" + +Cicely drew away, she struck Eve's hand down with all her force. Then +she ran sobbing to the bed, where Jack, half dressed, had fallen asleep +again, and threw herself down beside him. "Oh, Ferdie! Ferdie!" she +sobbed, in a passion of grief. + +Eve did not move. + +After a while Cicely dried her eyes and rose; she woke Jack, and +finished dressing him in silence; kneeling down, she began to put on his +shoes. + +The child rolled his little wooden horse over her shoulder. Then he +called: "Old Eve! old Eve! Pum here, an' det down; I want to roll de +hortie on _you_, too." + +Eve obeyed; she took up the other little shoe. + +"Oh, well," said Cicely, her voice still choked with sobs, "we can't +help it, Eve--as long as we've got him between us; he's a tie. We shall +have to make the best of each other, I suppose." + +"May I go with you to Romney?" Eve asked, in a low tone. + +"How can you want to go _there_?" demanded Cicely, her eyes beginning to +flash again. + +"I know.--But I don't want to leave Jack and you. If you would take +me--" + +They said but a few words more. Yet it was all arranged; they would go +to Romney; Paul was to know nothing of it. + + + + +XXX. + + +Cicely thought of everything, she ordered everything; she and Eve had +changed places. It was decided that they should take a North Shore +steamer; this would carry them eastward to the Sault by a route far away +from Port aux Pins. Mrs. Mile was to be sent back to that flourishing +town on the day of their own departure, but preceding it in time by +several hours; she would carry no tidings because she would know none. +Hollis was to be taken into their confidence in a measure--he was to be +informed that this change of plan was a necessity, and that Paul must +not hear of it. + +"He will do what we tell him to do," Cicely remarked. + +"Oh, yes," said Eve, assentingly. + +The first North Shore steamer would not pass before the morning of the +third day. For twenty-four hours Eve remained inert, she did nothing. +The judge, troubled, but inexpressibly excited at the prospect of never +seeing Port aux Pins again; of getting away from these cold woods, and +in a few days from these horrible great lakes; of soon breathing once +more the air of his dear, warm, low-lying country, with its old +plantations, its old towns, its old houses and old friends, hurried +about wildly, trotting hither and thither on many errands, but without +accomplishing much. On the second day Eve's mood changed, and a feverish +activity took possession of her also; she was up and out at dawn, she +did everything she could think of, she worked incessantly. By noon there +was nothing more left to do, and there still remained the whole half of +the day, and the night. + +"I think I'll go out on the lake," she said to Cicely. + +"Yes, row hard; tire yourself," Cicely answered. + +She spoke coldly, though the advice she offered was good. She was trying +hard to be kind to Eve during these difficult last hours when Paul was +still so near; but though she did her best, she often failed. "You'd +better not come back until nearly dark," she added; "we've got to be +together through the long journey, you know." + +"Very well," Eve replied. + +It was a brilliant afternoon, the air was clear; already the woods had +an autumn look. Eve paddled eastward for some time; then she came back +and went out to Jupiter Light. Beaching her canoe, she strolled to and +fro for a while; then she sat down. The water came up and laved the reef +with a soft, regular sound, the Light loomed above her; presently a man +came out of the door and locked it behind him. + +"Good-afternoon, mum," he said, pausing on his way to his boat. "From +the camp down below, ain't yer?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, I'm going the other way _myself_. Want to be light-keeper for an +hour or two?" This jocularly. + +It was the man who had come down with a lantern and preceded her and +Paul up the stairs to the little room at the top. + +"There's some one else above, isn't there?" she asked. + +"No, mum; all three of us off ter-day. But me and John Rail'll be back +afore dark; you won't tell on us, I guess?" He gave a toothless smile +and pushed off, nodding slightly in farewell as the distance between +them increased. He went eastward round the point; his boat was soon out +of sight. + +Eve sat gazing at the Light; she recalled the exact tones of Paul's +voice as he said, "_Don't_ you want to go up?" Then they had climbed up, +and down again; and how sweet and strange and exciting it was! Then he +had rowed the canoe home; how delightful it had been to sit there and +feel the boat dart forward under his strong strokes in the +darkness!--for night had come on while they lingered on the reef. Then +she remembered her anger when he said, as he was helping her out, "I saw +how much you wanted to go!" It seemed so strange that she should ever +have been angry with him; she could never be so again, no matter what he +might do. She tried to think of the things he might do; for instance, he +might marry (she had almost said "marry again"). "I ought to wish that +he might find some one--" But she could go no further, that was the end +of that line of thought; she could not wish anything of the kind. She +pressed her hands together in bitter, hot rebellion. But even her +rebellion was without hope. She had been sitting with her feet crossed +before her; she drew up her knees, put her arms upon them, and her head +on her arms. She sat thus a long time. + +A voice said, "Eve!" + +With a start she raised her head. Paul stood there beside her. + +"You did not expect to see me. But I had word. Hollis got one of the men +off secretly as soon as he could; he was ashamed to see me treated so." + +"No," said Eve; "he wanted to give _me_ a pleasure." Nothing could have +been more dreary than her tone, more desperate than her eyes, as she +looked at him. + +"Oh, why did you come here?" she went on. + +"I didn't believe it, Eve; I thought it was all gammon." + +"No; it's true." + +"That you were going to leave me?--Going off without letting me know?" + +"Yes." + +"Who has been talking to you? Cicely--now that she is herself again? +She's a murderous little creature." + +"I talked to _her_, I asked her to take me with her." + +"What is the matter with you?" said Paul. He bent and took her hands, +and drew her to her feet. "Now I can look at you.--Tell me what you +mean." + +"Baby came near being drowned. And it was my fault. That brought me to +my senses." + +"It took you out of them!" + +"I saw then that I had been thinking only of myself, my own happiness." + +"Oh, it would have been some happiness, would it?" said Paul, with a +touch of sarcasm. He took her in his arms. + +"Have you the least doubt about my love for you?" Eve asked. + +He looked deep into her eyes, so near his own. "No, I haven't." And he +rested his lips on hers. + +She did not resist, she returned his kiss. Then she left him. "It's like +death to me, but I must. I shall never marry you." She went towards her +canoe. + +Paul gave a laugh. "That's a nice way to talk when I've been slaving +over the house, and got all sorts of suffocating things you'll like." He +came and took her hands off the boat's edge. "Why, Eve," he said, with +sudden passion, "a week from to-day we shall be living there together." + +"Never together." + +"Why?" + +"I can't tell you, because it's against myself.--I haven't the strength +to tell you." + +"Because it will make me think less of you? Not so much so as your +trying to slip away from me unawares." + +"You think it wouldn't. But it would." + +"Try me!" + +She released herself from the grasp of his hands. "Oh, if the cases had +been reversed, how little _I_ should have minded! No matter what you had +done, you would have been the same to me--God knows you would! In life, +in death, before anything and everything, I should have adored you +always, you would always have come first." + +"So it is with me," said Paul. + +"No, it is _not_. And it's for that reason I am leaving you." + +Paul made no more use of words. What she had said had left no impression +upon him--no impression of importance. He had never been so much in love +with her as at this moment. + +"Don't you see how I am suffering?--I cannot bear it. Oh, leave me! let +me go! Another minute and I shall not have the strength.--Don't kiss me +again. Listen! _I_ shot Ferdie, your brother. I--I!" + +Paul's arms dropped. "Ferdie? Poor Ferdie?" The tears rushed to his +eyes. "Why, some negroes did it." + +"There were no negroes. It was I." + +He stood there as if petrified. + +With desperate courage, she launched her canoe. "You see now that I had +to go. You could not marry a woman who--Not even if she did it to +save--" She waited an instant, looking at him. He did not speak. She +pushed off, lingering a moment longer. "Forgive me for trying to deceive +you those few days," she said. Then, with quick strokes, she sent the +boat westward. After a while, she changed her position, and, taking the +other paddle, she began to row, so that she could look back the longer. +His figure remained motionless for many minutes; then he sat down on the +edge of his canoe. Thus she left him, alone under Jupiter Light. + + + + +XXXI. + + +When Eve reached the camp, after her parting with Paul, Cicely was +waiting for her on the beach, alone; apparently she had sent every one +away. "Well?" she said, as the canoe grated on the sand. + +"I told him," Eve answered. + +"Everything?" + +"Everything." + +"And he did not--?" + +"No, he did not." + +For an instant Cicely's face expressed keen sympathy. Then her +expression changed. "You did it, you know. You'll have to pay for it!" + +"Will you help me to get away?" Eve asked.--"I cannot see him again." + +"And do you imagine that by any chance he wishes to see _you_?" demanded +Cicely, sarcastically. + +"But he will have to come back here--he must; let me go away before he +comes. We were leaving to-morrow in any case; help me off now," Eve +pleaded. + +Cicely surveyed her with pitiless eyes; the once strong Eve now looked +at her imploringly, her face despairing, her voice broken. Having had +her satisfaction, the vindictive little creature turned, and, going back +to the lodge, began to issue orders with imperative haste, as though she +had but one wish in the world, namely, to help Eve; Mrs. Mile found +herself working as she had never worked before; the Irishmen tumbled +over each other; Porley and the cook constantly gallopaded--no other +word could describe their gait. The judge worked fiercely; he helped in +launching the canoes until the blood rushed to his head; he ran after +the Irishmen; he carried Jack, he scolded Porley. And then, during one +of these journeys, his strength failed so suddenly that he was obliged +to sit down; as there was no bench near, he sat down on the ground. + +Soon afterwards Mrs. Mile came by. + +"Dear me! Do let me assist you," she said sweetly. + +"I am merely looking at the lake; it is charming this morning," replied +the judge, waving his hand. + +"I could assist you _so_ well," said the nurse, coming nearer, "knowing, +as I do, the exact position of _all_ the muscles." + +"Muscles, madam? It's more than I do! May I ask you to pass on?" + +One of the Irishmen next appeared, carrying Jack's pillows and toys. + +"Can you tell me where Mr. Hollis is?" demanded the judge, still seated. + +"Mr. Hollis, surr? Yes, surr. Think he's gone fishing, surr." + +"D--n him! He takes a nice time for it--when we're sweating here," +muttered the judge, angrily. + +But poor Hollis was fishing only in a figurative sense, and in bitter +waters. He had sent for Paul--yes; but he could not stay to witness his +return with Eve; (he had not the slightest doubt but that Eve would +return with him). He shook hands with Paul upon his arrival, and made a +number of jokes, as usual. But soon after the younger man's canoe had +started eastward in search of Eve, a second canoe, with Hollis paddling, +stole quietly away, going in the opposite direction. Its occupant +reached Port aux Pins, in due time. He remained there but a few hours. + +A month later a letter came to Paul from a small town near the base of +the Rocky Mountains. "You see, when I got back to Port aux Pins, it sort +of came over me that I'd go west. People are more lively out here, and +not so crowded. I've got hold of a capital thing in raisins, in southern +California. If that fails, there is stock-raising, and plenty of other +things; and the same old auctioneer line. I've left a trifle in the +savings-bank for Jacky. Perhaps you'll take charge of it for him? You'll +hear from me again soon.--C. HOLLIS." + +But Paul never heard from him; from that moment all trace of him was +lost. Ferdie, if he had known Hollis, would have had a vision of him +making his way year by year farther westward, always attired in the +black coat and tall hat (which marked his dignity as a lawyer), whether +voyaging in a prairie schooner, chopping wood at a camp, hunting elk, or +searching for ore. But Paul had no such visions, he did not see human +lives as _tableaux-vivants_. He was sincerely sorry that Hollis had +vamosed in that way. But he understood it too. + +The trifle turned out to be eight hundred dollars. It was regularly +entered to little Jack's account, and there was a pass-book with his +full name, "John Frederick Bruce." "Bruce,--that did it," thought Paul; +"he could give it to the _child_. Poor old Kit! it must have been all he +had." + +Cicely's generalship was excellent; in less than half an hour the three +canoes were ready, and the judge, Porley and Jack, Eve, Cicely herself, +with three of the men to row, took their places; the boats glided out +from the shore, turning towards the west. Mrs. Mile bowed gravely to the +judge, with an air of compunction; she knew what an impression she had +made upon that poor old man; she was afraid that she had not done right! +Mrs. Mile was left in charge of the camp to await the arrival of Paul +Tennant. + +The canoes were out all night. At dawn the little party found refuge on +one of the North Shore steamers, and began the long voyage down the +chain of lakes, stopping again at the beautiful city of Cleveland, +thence by railway to New York, and from there southward by sea. On the +ninth morning of their journey their ocean steamer turned her bows +towards the distant land, a faint line on the right; by noon, she was +making her way along a winding channel, which was indicated here and +there in the water by buoys painted white, which looked like ducks; the +Atlantic was very calm, its hue was emerald green; it was so clear that +one could see the great jelly-fish floating down below. The judge, with +his hands clasped on his cane's head, stood looking eagerly at +everything. His joy was deep, he felt himself an exile returning home. +And oh! how beautiful home was! To him, this Southern coast was fair as +Paradise; he welcomed the dark hue of the Southern trees, he welcomed +the neglected fields, he even welcomed the broken-down old houses here +and there. For at least they were not staring, they were not noisy; to +the judge, the smart new houses of Port aux Pins--those with Mansard +roofs--had seemed to shout and yell. Three negro fishermen, passing in a +row-boat with a torn sail, were eminently worthy creatures; they were +not the impudent, well-dressed mulattoes of the North, who elbowed him +off the pavements, who read newspapers on steamers with the air of men +of the world. When the winding channel--winding through water--came to +an end at the mouth of an inlet, the white sand-hills on each hand were +more beautiful to his eyes than the peaks of the Alps, or the soft +outline of Italian mountains. "God bless my country!" was the old man's +fervent thought. But his "country" was limited; it was the territory +which lies between the St. Mary's River and the Savannah. + +At the little port within the inlet they disembarked, and took the small +steamer of the Inside Route, which was to carry them through the sounds +to Romney. Night had come on, dark and quiet; clouds covered the sky; +the air was warm, for it was still summer here. The dusky shores, dimly +visible on either hand, gave a sense of protection after the vastness of +the ocean; the odors of flowers reached them, and seemed sweet after its +blank, cold purity. Cicely, with Porley and Jack, was on the deck near +the stern; the judge was now with them, now at the prow, now up-stairs, +now down-stairs; he could not be still. Eve sat by herself on the +forward deck, gazing through the darkness at the water; she could not +see it save here and there in broken gleams, where the lights from the +lower cabin shone across it; she heard the rushing sound made by the +great paddle-wheels as they revolved unseen behind her, and the fancy +came to her that she should like to be lashed to the outer rim of one of +them, and be carried up and down through the cool water. Towards ten +o'clock a beam shone out ahead. "See it?" said the judge, excitedly, +coming to show it to her. "Jupiter Light!" + +And Eve remembered that less than a year before she had landed here for +the first time, a woman imperious, sufficient to herself; a woman who +was sure that she could direct her own course; in addition, a woman who +supposed herself to be unhappy. How like child's play did this all seem +now--her certainties, and her pride, and her supposed sorrow! "If I +could die, wouldn't that be the best thing for me, as well as for Paul? +A way out of it all? The first shock over, I should be but a memory to +him; I should not be a miserable haunting presence, wretched myself, and +making him wretched too. I wonder--I wonder--is it wrong to try to die?" + +The stern Puritan blood of her father in her answered, "One must not +give up until one has exhausted every atom of one's strength in the +contest." + +"But if it is all exhausted? If--" Here another feeling came sweeping +over her. "No, I cannot die while he is in the world; in spite of my +misery, I want to be here if he is here. Perhaps no knowledge of +anything that happens here penetrates to the next world; if that is the +case, I don't want to be there, no matter how beautiful it may be. I +want to stay where I can hear of Paul." + +After they had left the boat, and Pomp and Plato were hoisting the +trunks into one of the wagons, Cicely came up. + +"Eve, you must stay with me more, now that we are here; you mustn't be +always off by yourself." + +"I thought you preferred it." + +"Yes, through the journey. But not now. It's a great deal worse for me +now than it is for you; you have left Paul behind, but I am going to see +Ferdie in a moment or two. I shall see him everywhere--in the road, at +the door, in our own room; he will stand and look at me." + +"Well, you will like that." + +"No, for it will be only a mockery; I shall not be able to put my arms +round him; he won't kiss me." + +"Cecilia," called the judge, his voice ringing out happily, "everything +is ready now, and Cesh is restive." + +Cicely gave one of her sudden little laughs. "Poor grandpa! he is so +frantic with joy that he even says 'Cesh,'--though he loathes +abbreviations!" + +Secession, the mule, started on his leisurely walk towards Romney. + +In the same lighted doorway where Eve had been received upon her first +arrival, now appeared again the tall figure of Miss Sabrina. The poor +lady was crying. + +"Oh, my darling Cicely, what sorrow!" she said, embracing her niece +fondly. + +As they entered the hall: "Oh, my darling Cicely, what a home-coming +for you! And to think--" More tears. + +As they came into the lighted parlor: "Oh, my darling Cicely--What! no +mourning?" This last in genuine surprise. + +Cicely closed the door. She stood in the centre of the room. "This is +not a charnel-house, Sabrina. No one is to speak to me of graves. As to +mourning, I shall not wear an inch of it; you may wear as many yards as +you like--you always loved it; did you begin to mourn for Ferdie before +he was dead?" + +"Oh, pa, she said such terrible things to me--our own Cicely. I don't +know how to take it!" moaned poor Miss Sabrina to her father when they +were left alone. + +"Well, you are pretty black, Sabrina," suggested the judge, doubtfully. +"Those tossels now--" + +"I got them because they were cheap. I _hope_ they look like mourning?" + +"You needn't be afraid; they're hearse-like!" + +"Are they, really?" said Miss Sabrina, with gratification. "The choice +at the mainland store is so small." But presently the tears came again. +"Oh, pa, everything is so sad now. Do you remember when I used to ride +my little pony by your side, and you were on your big black horse? How +kind you have always been to me, pa; and I have been such a +disappointment to you!" + +"No, no, Breeny; no, little girl," said the judge. + +They kissed each other, the old man and his gray-haired child. Their +minds went back to brighter days; they understood each other's sorrow. + +At two o'clock Eve had not yet gone to bed. There was a tap at her door. +She spoke. "Cicely?" + +"Yes." + +She drew back the bolt, and Cicely entered, carrying a small lamp. "You +haven't gone to bed? So much the better; you are to come with me." + +"Where?" + +"To all the places where we went that night." + +"I cannot." + +"There is no question of 'cannot;' I wish you to go, and you must, if I +say so." + +Eve looked at her with forlorn eyes. But Cicely was inflexible. She +opened the door; Eve followed her. + +"First, I want to see that Jacky is all right," Cicely said. She led the +way to her own room. Jack was asleep, his dimpled arms thrown out on the +pillow. Cicely bent over him for a moment. Then she looked at Eve. "You +won't ever be troubled by this sort of thing, will you? _You'll_ never +have a child!" She laughed, and, taking the lamp, turned towards the +door. "This was Ferdie's dressing-room; don't you see him over there by +the window?" Eve shrank. "Now he has gone. But we shall hear him +following us along the corridor presently, and across the ballroom. +Then, in the thicket, he will come and look at us;--do you remember his +eyes, and the corners of his mouth,--how they were drawn down?" And the +corners of her own mouth took the same grimace. + +"I cannot go with you," said Eve, stopping. + +"You will do what I wish you to," answered Cicely;--"one generally does +when one has injured a person as you have injured me. For I loved +Ferdie, you know; I really had the folly to love him." (She said this +insolently.) Turning to Eve, with the same insolent smile, "At last you +know what love is, don't you?" she added. "Has it brought you much +happiness?" + +Eve made no answer, she followed humbly; together they went through the +labyrinth of small rooms at the end of the corridor and entered the +ballroom. + +Its empty space was dark, a glimmering gray alone marking the +unshuttered windows. The circle of light from their lamp made the +blackness still blacker. + +"Do you remember when I put on that ball-dress of my grandmother's, and +came jumping along here?" said Cicely. "How strange it is!--I think I +was _intended_ to be happy." + +After a moment she went on: "Now we must begin to listen; he will come +in behind us, we shall hear his step. _You_ ought to hear it all your +life!" she added. + +They reached the window at last; it had seemed to Eve an endless +transit. Cicely drew back the bolt, threw up the sash, and, with the aid +of a chair, stepped out. + +"Wait here," she said, when Eve had joined her outside; "then, when I +have reached the thicket, draw the window down, just as he did; I want +to hear the sound." + +She went quickly towards the thicket, carrying her lamp. Eve was left +alone on the veranda. + +After a few minutes Eve tried to draw down the sash. It resisted, and +she was obliged to use all her strength. A shiver came over her as she +lifted her arms to try a second time, she almost expected to see a hand +come stealing over her shoulder (or under it), and perform the task for +her; and the hand would be--Ferdie's. She hurried after Cicely. + +Cicely came out from the thicket. "Now take the lamp and walk down the +road a little way; I wish to see the gleam moving over the +bushes,--don't you remember?" + +Eve obeyed. It seemed to her as if she should never be free from this +island and its terror; as if she should spend the rest of her life here +following Cicely, living over again their dreadful flight. + +When she came back, Cicely said, "Now for the north point;" she led the +way along the road; their footsteps made crunching sounds in the sand. + +Cicely said, "I was in hopes that the moon would come out from behind +those clouds. Oh, I'm so glad! there it is! Now it will light up the +very spot where you shot him. I will leave the lamp here on the sand; +that will give the yellow gleam that we saw behind us. Now go into the +woods. Then, in a few moments, you must come out and look about, just as +you did then, and you must put out your hand and make a motion of +shooting." + +"I will not," said Eve, outraged. "I shall leave you and go back." + +Cicely saw that she had come to the end of her power. She put her arms +round Eve's neck, and held her closely. "To please me, Eve; I shall +never be content without it; I want to see how it all was, how you +looked. Just this once, Eve; never again, but just this once." + +"I thought you had forgiven me, Cicely?" + +"I have, I have." She kissed Eve again. "_Do_ content me." + +Eve went slowly towards the trees. As she disappeared within the +shadow, Cicely instantly concealed herself on the other side of the +road. There was a silence. + +The moon, emerging still further from the clouds, now silvered the +forest, the path, and the sound with its clear light; there was no boat +drawn up at the point's end; the beach sloped smoothly to the water, +unbroken by any dark outline, and the water stretched smoothly towards +Singleton Island, with only the track of the moon across it. + +Eve stood in the shadow under the trees. The spell of the place was upon +her; like a somnambulist, she felt herself forced by some inward +compelling power to go through the whole scene. The thought of Cicely +had passed from her mind; there was but one person there now--Ferdie; in +another moment she should see him; she listened; then she went forward +to the edge of the wood and looked down the road. + +Something came rushing from the other side, and with quick force bore +her to the ground. Not Ferdie, but Cicely, like a tigress, was upon her, +her hands at her throat. In a strange suffocated voice, she cried, "Do +you like it? Do you like it? Do you _like_ to be dead?" + +And Eve did not struggle; she lay motionless in Cicely's +grasp--motionless under the weight of her body keeping her down. The +thing did not seem to her at all incredible; suddenly it seemed like a +remedy for all her troubles--if Cicely's grasp should tighten. Passively +she closed her eyes. + +But Cicely's grasp did not tighten; the fury that had risen within her +had taken all her strength, and now she lay back white and still. Eve, +like a person in a dream, went down to the beach and dipped her +handkerchief in the water; slowly she came back, and bathed Cicely's +forehead and wrists. But still Cicely did not stir. Eve put her hand on +her heart. It was beating faintly. She stooped, and lifted Cicely in her +arms, holding her as one holds a child, with one arm round her shoulders +and the other under her knees, Cicely's head lying against her breast. +Then she began her long walk back. + + + + +XXXII. + + +The stars were fading, there was a band of clear light in the east over +the sea, when Eve reached the veranda of Romney again; with pauses for +rest, she had carried her sister all the way. Cicely was small and +light, her weight was scarcely more than that of a child; still, owing +to the distance, the effort had been great, and Eve's strength was +exhausted. She put her burden gently down on the floor of the veranda, +and stood leaning against one of the wooden pillars, with her arms +hanging by her sides to rest them; they were numb and stiff, almost +paralyzed; she began to be afraid lest she should not be able to raise +them again; she went to the window to try. The effort of lifting the +sash drew a groan of anguish from her. But Cicely did not hear it; she +remained unconscious. The dawn grew brighter, soon the sun would appear. +It was not probable that at this early hour any one would pass this +uninhabited end of the house; still, negroes were inconsequent; Pomp and +Plato might be seized with a fancy to come; if she could only get Cicely +back to her room unseen, there need be no knowledge of their midnight +expedition. She knelt down beside her, and chafed her hands and temples; +she spoke her name with insistence: "Cicely! Cicely!"--she put the whole +force of her will into the effort of reaching the dormant consciousness, +wherever it was, and compelling it to waken. "Cicely!" She looked +intently at Cicely's closed eyes. + +Cicely stirred, her dark-fringed lids opened; her vague glance caught +the gleam of the sound. "Where are we?" she asked. + +"We came out for a walk," Eve answered. "Do you think you could climb +in--I mean by the window? I am afraid I cannot lift you." + +"Of course I can. Why shouldn't I?" + +She did it as lightly and easily as ever; she was in perfect possession +of all her faculties. Eve followed her. Then she drew down the sash with +the same effort. + +"What is the matter with your arms?" Cicely asked. "You move them as +though they were rusty." + +"I think they _are_ rusty." + +They went through the ballroom, now looking very prosaic, flooded with +the light of the rising sun. "We're always tramping through this old +room," said Cicely. + +When she reached the door of her own chamber, she abruptly drew Eve in. +"Well--are you going to leave me forever?" + +"Not unless you send me away." + +"Is it on baby's account that you stay?" + +"Not more now than at any time." + +"You don't mind what I did, then?" + +"You didn't do anything." + +"That's brave of you, Eve, when you hate lies so. You are trying to make +me believe that nothing happened out there in the road--that I was just +as usual. But I remember perfectly--I sprang at you; if I had been a +man--my hands stronger--you wouldn't be here now!" + +"Fortunately you are not a man, nor anything like one," Eve answered, in +the tone of a person who makes a joke. She turned towards the door. + +"Wait, I want to tell you," said Cicely, going after her, and turning +her round with her hands on her shoulders. "This is it, Eve; it comes +over me with a rush sometimes, when I look at you--that here you are +alive, and _Ferdie_ dead! He was a great deal more splendid than you +are, he was so handsome and so young! And yet there he is, down in the +ground; and _you_ walking about here! Nothing seems too bad for you +then; my feeling is, 'Let her die too! And see how she likes it.'" + +"I should like it well enough, if somebody else did it," Eve answered. +"Death wouldn't be a punishment, Cicely; it would be a release." + +Cicely's grasp relaxed. "Oh, very well. Then why haven't you tried it?" + +"Because Paul Tennant is still in the world! I am pusillanimous enough +to wish to breathe the same air." + +"You _do_ love him!" said Cicely. She paused. "Perhaps--after a +little--" + +"No, I have thought it all out; it can never be. If he should come to me +this moment, and tell me that he loved me in spite of everything, it +wouldn't help me; for I should know that it could not last; I should +know that, if I should marry him, sooner or later he would hate me; it +would be inevitable. Ferdie's face would come always between us." + +"I hope it may," said Cicely, savagely. "Why do you keep on staying with +me? I don't wish you to stay. Not in the least." + +"I thought that I could perhaps be of some use. You were so dear to my +brother--" + +"Much you care for poor old Jack now! Even _I_ care more." + +"Yes, I have changed. But--Jack understands." + +"A convenient belief!" + +"And you have his child." + +--"And I am Paul's sister!" + +"Yes; I can sometimes hear of Paul through you." + +Eve's voice, as she said this, was so patient that Cicely was softened. +She came to Eve and kissed her. "I am sorry for you, Eve." + +"Will you promise me to go to bed?" Eve answered, resuming her usual +tone, as she turned towards the door. "I must go now, I am tired." + +Cicely went with her. "I am never sure of myself, Eve," she said, +warningly; "I may say just the same things to you to-morrow,--remember +that." + +Once in her own room, Eve did not follow the advice which she had given +to Cicely; finding that she could not sleep, she dressed herself afresh, +and sought the open air again. It was still early, no one was stirring +save the servants. Meeting Porley, she asked the girl to bring her some +tea and a piece of corn-bread; after this frugal breakfast, taken in the +shade of the great live-oaks, she wandered down one of the eastern +roads. Her bath had brought no color to her cheeks; her eyes had the +contracted look which comes after a night of wakefulness; though the +acute pain had ceased, her weary arms still hung lifelessly by her side, +her step was languid; only her golden hair looked bright and young as +the sun's rays shone across it. + +She walked on at random; after a while, upon looking down one of the +tracks, bordered by the glittering green bushes, she recognized Miss +Sabrina's figure, and, turning, followed it. + +Miss Sabrina had come out to pay an early visit to her temple of +memories. She heard Eve's step, and looked up. "Oh, is it you, my dear? +It's St. Michael and All-Angels; I have only brought a few flowers, I +hope you don't mind?" Her voice was apologetic. + +"Do you mean for my brother? I wish you had brought more, then; I wish +you would always remember him," said Eve, going over and sitting down +beside the mound. "He has the worst time of any of us, after all!" + +"Oh, my dear, how _can_ we know?" murmured Miss Sabrina, shocked. + +"I don't mean that he is in hell," said Eve. + +Miss Sabrina had no idea what she meant; she returned to the subject of +her temple. "Cicely thinks I come here too often,--she spoke of +charnel-houses. Perhaps I do come often; but it has been a comfort to +me." + +"Miss Sabrina, do you believe in another world?" + +"My dear child, most certainly." + +"And have we the same feelings, the same affections, there as here?" + +"The good ones, I suppose." + +"Is love one of these?" + +"The best, isn't it?" + +"Well, then, my brother took his love for Cicely; if she should die +to-day, how much would she care for him, when she met him?" + +"I think that something else would be provided for your brother, +probably," said Miss Sabrina, timidly. + +"Another wife? Why not arrange that for Ferdie Morrison, and give Cicely +to Jack?" + +"She loved Ferdie the best. Aren't you inclined to think that it must be +when they _both_ love?" suggested the maiden lady. + +"And when they both love, should anything be permitted to come between +them?" + +"Oh, nothing! nothing!" said Miss Sabrina, with fervor. "That is, of +course, when there is no barrier; when it would be no crime." + +"What is crime?" demanded Eve, looking at her sombrely. "I don't think I +know." + +"Surely the catechism tells us, doesn't it?" + +"What does it tell?" + +Miss Sabrina murmured reverently: "Idolatry, isn't it?--and blasphemy; +desecration of the Lord's Day and irreverence to parents; murder, +adultery, theft; falsehood and covetousness." + +"And which is the worst? Murder?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Have you ever spoken to a murderer?" + +"Heaven forbid!" said Miss Sabrina. She glanced with suffused eyes +towards Ferdie's grave. "It is _such_ a comfort to me to think that +though he was in effect murdered, those poor ignorant nig-roes had +probably no such intention; it was not done deliberately, by some one +who _wished_ to harm him." + +"I don't believe his murderer will be afraid to face him in the next +world," said Eve. She, too, looked towards the mound; she seemed to see +Ferdie lying down below, with closed eyes, but the same grimacing lips. + +"Oh, as to that, they would have so little in common that they wouldn't +be thrown much together, I reckon," said Miss Sabrina, hopefully; "I +doubt if they even meet." + +"Your heaven is not like the Declaration of Independence, is it?" said +Eve. + +Miss Sabrina did not understand. She pinched her throat with her thumb +and forefinger, and looked vaguely at Eve. + +"I mean that all men 'are created equal;' your heaven has an outside +colony for negroes, and once or twice a week white angels go over there, +I suppose, ring the Sunday-school bell, and hold meetings for their +improvement." + +Miss Sabrina colored; she took up her basket. + +"Forgive me!" said Eve, dropping her sarcasms. "I am unhappy. That is +the reason I talk so." + +"I feared so, my dear; I feared so," answered the gentle lady, melted at +once. + +Eve left her, and wandered across the island to the ocean beach. Low +waves came rolling in and broke upon the sand; no ship was in sight; the +blue of the water met the horizon line unbroken. She walked southward +with languid step; every now and then she would stop, then walk slowly +on again. After half an hour a sound made her turn; Paul Tennant was +close upon her, not twenty feet distant; the wash of the waves had +prevented her from hearing his approach. She stood still, involuntarily +turning towards him as if at bay. + +Paul came up. "Eve, I know what I am about now. I didn't know out there +at Jupiter Light; I was dazed; but I soon understood. I went back to the +camp, but you were gone. As soon as I could I started after you. Here I +am." + +"You understood? What did you understand?" said Eve, her face deathly +white. + +"That I loved you," said Paul, taking her in his arms. "That is enough +for me; I hope it is for you." + +"That you love me in spite of--" + +"There is no 'in spite of;' what you did was noble, was extraordinarily +brave. A woman is timid; you are timid, though you may pretend not to +be; yet with your own hand--" + +Eve remembered how Cicely had struck her hand down. "You will strike it +down, too!" she said, incoherently, bursting into tears. + +Paul soothed her, not by words, but by his touch. Her whole being +responded; she leaned her head against his breast. + +"To save Cicely you crushed your own feelings; you did something utterly +horrible to you. And you faced all the trouble and grief which would +certainly come in consequence of it. Why, Eve, it was the bravest thing +I have ever heard of." + +Eve gave a long sigh. "I have been so unhappy--" + +"Never again, I hope," said Paul; "from this moment I take charge of +you. We will be married as soon as possible; we will go to Charleston." + +"Don't let us talk of that. Just love me here;--- now." + +"Well--don't I?" said Paul, smiling. + +He found a little nook between two spurs of the thicket which had +invaded the beach; here he made a seat for her with a fragment of wreck +which had been washed up by the sea. + +"Let us stay here all day," she said, longingly. + +"You will have me all the days of your life," said Paul. He had seated +himself at her feet. "We shall have to live in Port aux Pins for the +present; you won't mind that, I hope?" + +She drew his head down upon her breast. "How I have loved you!" + +"I know it," he said, flushing. "It was that which made me love you." He +rose (it was not natural to Paul to keep a lowly position long), and, +taking a seat beside her, lifted her in his arms. "I'm well caught," he +murmured, looking down upon her with a smile. "Who would ever have +supposed that you could sway me so?" + +"Oh," cried Eve, breaking away from him, "it's of no use; my one day +that I counted on--my one short day--I cannot even dare to take that! +Good women have the worst of it; if I could pretend that I was going to +marry you, all this would be right; and if I could pretend nothing, but +just _take_ it, then at least I should have had it; a remembrance for +all the dreary years that have got to come. Instead of that, as I have +been brought up a stupid, good woman, I _can't_ change--though I wish I +could! I shall have to tell you the truth: I can never marry you; the +sooner we part, then, the better." She turned and walked northward +towards the Romney road. + +With a stride Paul caught up with her. "What are you driving at?" + +"I shall never marry you." + +He laughed. + +She turned upon him. "You laugh--you have no idea what it is to me! I +think of you day and night, I have longed to have you in my arms--on my +heart. No, don't touch me; it is only that I won't have you believe that +I don't know what love is, that I don't love you. Why, once at Port aux +Pins, I walked miles at night because I was so mad with jealousy; and I +found you playing whist! If I could only have known beforehand--if I +could only have seen you once, just once, Ferdie might have done what he +chose with Cicely; I shouldn't have stirred!" + +"Yes, you would," said Paul. + +"No, I shouldn't have stirred; you might as well know me as I am. What I +despise myself for now is, that I haven't the force to make an end of +it, to relieve you of the thought of me--at least as some one living. +But as long as you are alive, Paul--" She looked at him with her eyes +full of tears. + +"You don't know what you are talking about," said Paul, sternly. "You +will live, and as my wife; we will be married here at Romney to-morrow." + +"Would you really marry me _here_?" said Eve, the light of joy coming +into her wan face. + +"It's a tumble-down old place, I know. But won't it do to be married +in?" + +"Oh, it is so much harder when you seem to forget,--when for the moment +you really do forget! But of course I know that it could not last." + +"What could not last?" + +She moved away a step or two. "If I should marry you, you would hate me. +Not in the beginning. But it would come. For Ferdie was your brother, +and I _did_ kill him; nothing can alter these facts--not even love. At +first you wouldn't remember; then, gradually, he would come back to you; +you would think of the time when you were boys together, and you would +be sorry. Then, gradually, you would realize that _I_ killed him; +whenever I came near you, you would see--" Her voice broke, but she +hurried on. "You said I was brave to do it, and I was. You said it was +heroic, and it was. Yet all the same, he _was_ your brother; and _I_ +killed him. In defence of Cicely and the baby? Nothing makes any +difference. I killed him, and you would end by hating me. Yet I +shouldn't be able to leave you; once your wife, I know that I should +stay on, even if it were only to fold your clothes,--to touch them; to +pick up the burnt match-ends you had dropped, and your newspapers; to +arrange the chairs as you like to have them. I should be weak, weak--I +should follow you about. How you would loathe me! It would become to you +a hell." + +"I'll take care of that," said Paul; "I'll see to my own hells; at +present I'm thinking of something very different. We will be married +to-day, and not wait for to-morrow; I will take you away to-night." + +Eve looked at him.--"Haven't you heard what I've been saying?" + +"Yes, I heard it; it was rubbish." But something in her face impressed +him. "Eve, you are not really going to throw me over for a fancy like +that?" + +"No; for the horrible truth." + +"My poor girl, you are all wrong, you are out of your mind. Let us look +at only one side of it: what can you do in the world without me and my +love as your shield? Your very position (which you talk too much about) +makes _me_ your refuge. Where else could you go? To whom? You speak of +staying with Cicely. But Cicely--about Ferdie--is a little devil. The +boy will never be yours, she will not give him to you; and, all alone in +the world, how desolate you will be! You think yourself strong, but to +me you are like a child; I long to take care of you, I should guard you +from everything. And there wouldn't be the least goodness in this on my +part; don't think that; I'm passionately in love with you--I might as +well confess it outright." + +Eve quivered as she met his eyes. "I shall stay with Cicely." + +"You don't care whether you make _me_ suffer?" + +"I want to save you from the far greater suffering that would come." + +"As I told you before, I'll take care of that," said Paul. "You needn't +be so much concerned about what my feelings will be after you are my +wife--I know what they will be. Women are fools about that sort of +thing--what the future husband may or may not feel, may or may not +think; when he has got the woman he loves, he doesn't _think_ about her +at all; he thinks about his business, his affairs, his occupations, +whatever he has to do in the world. As to what he _feels_, he knows. And +she too. There comes an end to all her fancies, and generally they're +poor stuff." Drawing her to him, he kissed her. "That's better than a +fancy! Now we will walk back to the house; there is a good deal to do if +we are to be married this afternoon--as we certainly shall be; by this +time to-morrow it will be an old story to you--the being my wife. And +now listen, Eve, let me make an end of it; Ferdie was everything to me, +I don't deny it; he was the dearest fellow the world could show, and I +had always had the charge of him. But he had that fault from boyhood. +The time came when it endangered Cicely's life and that of her child; +then you stepped forward and saved them, though it was sure to cost you +a lifetime of pain. I honor you for this, Eve, and always shall. Poor +Ferdie has gone, his death was nobody's fault but his own; and it wasn't +wholly his own, either, for he had inherited tendencies which kept him +down. He has gone back to the Power that made him, and that Power +understands his own work, I fancy; at any rate, I am willing to leave +Ferdie to Him. But, in the meantime, we are on the earth, Eve, we +two,--and we love each other; let us have all there is of it, while we +are about it; in fact, I give you warning, that I shall take it all!" + +Two hours later, Paul came back from the mainland, where he had been +making the necessary arrangements for the marriage, which was to take +place at five o'clock; so far, he had told no one of his intention. + +A note was handed to him. He opened it. + + "It is of no use. In spite of all you have said, I feel sure that + in time you could not help remembering. And it would make you + miserable beyond bearing. + + "Once your wife, I should not have the strength to leave you--as I + can now. + + EVE." + + + + +XXXIII. + + +The judge was waiting for the steamer at Warwick Landing. Attired in +white duck, with his boy Pomp (Pomp was sixty) waiting respectfully in +the background, he was once more himself. As the steamer drew near, he +bowed with all his old courtliness, and he was immediately answered by +the agitated smile of a lady on the deck, who, with her shawl blowing +off and her veil blowing out, was standing at the railing, timid in +spite of her fifty-three years. It could be no one but Miss Leontine, +who had come over from Gary Hundred, with her maid, to pay a visit to +her dear Sabrina at Romney. The maid was a negro girl of thirteen, +attired in a calico dress and sun-bonnet; she did nothing save strive to +see how far she could straddle on the deck, whose flat surface seemed to +attract her irresistibly. Miss Leontine carried her own travelling-bag. +Occasionally she would say: "Clementine, shush! draw yourself together +immediately." But Clementine never drew herself. + +The judge assisted his guest to disembark--she ambled across the plank, +holding his hand; they drove to Romney in the one-seated wagon, the +judge acting as charioteer. Pomp and the maid were supposed to walk. + +"Clementine, whatever you do, don't cling on behind," said Miss +Leontine, turning her head once or twice unseemingly, to blink at the +offender. But Clementine clung all the way; and brayed at intervals. + +The judge, in his present state of joy, almost admired Miss +Leontine,--she was so unlike Parthenia Drone! "Ah, my dear Miss +Wingfield, how changed is society in these modern days!" he said, +flicking the flank of the mule. "In my time who ever heard a lady's +voice three feet away? Who ever knew her opinions--if she had any? Who +ever divined, at least in the open air, the texture of her cheek, +modestly hidden under her bonnet, or saw more than the tip of her +slipper under the hem of her robe? Now women think nothing of speaking +in public--at least at the North; they attend conventions, pass +resolutions, appear in fancy-dress at Fourth of July parades; their +bonnets for the most part" (not so Miss Leontine's) "are of a brazen +smallness; and their feet, if I may so express it, are the centre of +every room! When I was young, the most ardent suitor could obtain as a +sign of preference, only a sigh;--at most some startled look, some +smile, some reppurtee. All was timidity--timidity and retirement." + +Miss Leontine, in her gratification at this description of her own +ideal, clasped her hands so tightly together under her shawl that her +corset-board made a long red mark against her ribs in consequence. + +As they came within sight of the house, a figure was walking rapidly +across the lawn. "Is that Mr. Singleton?" inquired Miss Leontine. "Dear +Nannie wrote that they would come over to-day." + +"No, that's not Singleton; Singleton's lame," said the judge. + +"And yet it looks _so_ much like him," murmured Miss Leontine, with +conviction, still peering, with the insistence of a near-sighted +person. + +"It's a man named Watson," said the judge, decidedly. + +Watson was a generic title, it did for any one whom the judge could not +quite see. He considered that a name stopped unnecessary chatter,--made +an end of it; if you once knew that it was Watson or Dunlap, you let it +alone. + +In reality the figure was that of Paul Tennant. After reading Eve's note +he crushed the sheet in his hand, and turned towards the house with +rapid stride. There was no one in the hall; he rang the parlor bell. + +"Do you know where Miss Bruce is?" he asked, when Powlyne appeared. + +"In her room, marse, I spex." + +"Go and see. Don't knock; listen." He paced to and fro until Powlyne +came back. + +"Ain't dere, marse. Nor yet, periently, she ain't in de house anywhuz; +spex she's gone fer a walk." + +"Go and find out if any one knows which way she went." + +But no one had seen Eve. + +"Where is Mrs. Morrison?" + +"_She's_ yere, safe enough. I know whur _she_ is," answered Powlyne. +"Mis' Morrison she's down at de barf-house, taken a barf." + +"Is any one with her?" + +"Dilsey; she's dere." + +"Go and ask Dilsey how soon Mrs. Morrison can see me." + +Powlyne started. As she did not come back immediately, he grew +impatient, and went himself to the bath-house. It was a queer little +place, a small wooden building, near the sound. It seemed an odd idea +to bathe there, in a tank filled by a pump, when, twenty feet distant, +stretched the lagoon, and on the other side of the island the +magnificent sea-beach, smooth as a floor. + +Paul knocked. "How soon can Mrs. Morrison see me?" + +"She's troo her barf," answered Dilsey's voice at the crack. "Now she's +dess a-lounjun." + +"Tell her who it is;--that it's important." + +In another moment Dilsey opened the door, and ushered him into the outer +room. It was a square apartment, bare and rough, lighted only from +above; its sole article of furniture was a divan in the centre; an inner +door led to the bath-room beyond. Upon the divan Cicely was lying, her +head propped by cushions, the soft waves of her hair loose on her +shoulders. Delicate white draperies, profusely trimmed with lace, +enveloped her, exhaling an odor of violets. + +"Cicely, where is Eve?" demanded Paul. + +"Wait outside, Dilsey," said Cicely. Then, when the girl had +disappeared, "She has gone to Charleston," she answered. + +"And from there?" + +"I don't know." + +"When did she start!" + +"Two hours ago." + +--"Immediately after leaving me," Paul reflected, audibly. + +"Yes." + +"But there's no steamer at this hour." + +"One of the field hands rowed her up to Mayport; there she was to take a +wagon, and drive inland to a railway station." + +"She could only hit the Western Road." + +"Yes; but she can make a connection, farther on, which will enable her +to reach Charleston by to-morrow night." + +"I shall be twelve hours behind her, then; the first steamer leaves this +evening. You are a traitor, Cicely! Why didn't you let me know?" + +"She did not wish it." + +"I know what she wishes." + +"Yes, she loves you--if you mean that. But--I agree with her." + +"Agree with her how?" + +"That the barrier is too great. You would end by hating her," said +Cicely. + +"I'm the judge of that! If any one hates her, it is you; you constantly +torture her, you are merciless." + +"She shot my husband." + +"She shot your murderer! Another moment and Ferdie might have killed +you." + +"And if I preferred it? At any rate, _she_ had no right to interfere," +cried Cicely, springing up. + +"Why were you running away from him, then, if you preferred it? You fled +to her room, and asked for help; you begged her to come out with you." + +"It was on account of baby," answered Cicely, her voice like that of a +little girl, her breast beginning to heave. + +"And she saved your child's life a second time--on Lake Superior." + +"I know it--I know it. But you cannot expect--" + +"I expect nothing; you are absolutely unreasonable, and profoundly +selfish." + +"I'm not selfish. I only want to make her suffer!" cried Cicely, with +sparkling eyes. + +Paul looked at her sternly. "In that dress you appear like a courtesan; +and now you talk like one. It is a good thing my brother was taken off, +after all--with such a wife!" + +Cicely sank down at his feet. "Oh, don't say that, Paul; it is not true. +All this--these are the things that are underneath, they are the things +that touch me; you never see them when I am dressed. It is only that I +always liked to be nice for _him_; that is the reason I had all this +lace; and I keep it up, because I want him to think of me always as just +the same; yes, even when I am old. For I know he does think of me, and +he sees me too; he is often here. Listen,--I can't help hating Eve, +Paul. But it only comes in little whiffs, now and then. Supposing _I_ +had shot _her_, could you like _me_, after that?" She rose, holding up +her hands to him pleadingly. "In one way I love Eve." + +"Yet you let her go! Heaven knows where she is now." + +He turned his head away sharply. But she saw his tears. "No, Paul," she +cried, terrified, "she isn't dead--if you mean that; she told me once, +'As long as he is in the world, I want to live!'" + +"Well--I shall go after her," said Paul, controlling himself. He turned +towards the door. + +Cicely followed him. "Say good-by to me." She put up her face. + +He touched her forehead with his lips. Then he held her off for a +moment, and looked at her. "Poor child!" he said. + +He returned to the house for his travelling-bag; he remembered that he +had left it in the parlor upon his arrival, five hours before. + +The pleasant, shabby room, as he opened the door, held a characteristic +group: Miss Sabrina, gliding about with plum-cake; the judge, pouring +cherry-bounce; Mistress Nannie Singleton, serenely seated, undergoing +the process of being brushed by Clementine and Powlyne, who made hissing +sounds like hostlers, and, standing on one foot in a bent attitude, held +out behind a long leg. Rupert Singleton, seated in the largest +arm-chair, was evidently paying compliments to Miss Leontine, who, +gratified and embarrassed, and much entangled with her wineglass, her +gloves, and her plate of cake, hardly knew, to use a familiar +expression, whether she was on her head or her heels. Not that Miss +Sabrina would have mentioned her heels; to her, heels, shins, and ribs +did not exist, in a public way; they were almost medical terms, +belonging to the vocabulary of the surgeon. + +"I beg your pardon; I think I left my bag here," said Paul. + +"I had it taken to your room," answered Miss Sabrina, coming forward. +"Powlyne, go with Mr. Tennant." + +"Let her bring it down, please; I am leaving immediately," said Paul, +shaking hands with his hostess in farewell. + +The judge followed him out. "Leaving, did you say? But you've only just +come." + +"I am going to Charleston.--I must follow Miss Bruce without a moment's +delay." + +"Has _she_ gone!" There was a gleam of triumph in the old Georgian's +eyes as he said this. "You will find Charleston a very pleasant place," +he added, politely. + + + + +XXXIV. + + +"Drive to the New York steamer." + +"She's off, boss. Past her time." + +"Drive, I tell you." + +The negro coachman cracked his whip, his two rawboned steeds broke into +a gallop; the loose-jointed landau behind clattered and danced over the +stones. + +"Faster," said Paul. + +The negro stood up, he shook the reins over the backs of his team with a +galloping motion that corresponded with the sound of their feet; in +addition, he yelled without intermission. They swayed round corners, +they lurched against railings and other carriages; every head turned, +people made way for them as for a fire-engine; at last they reached the +harbor, and went clattering down the descent to the dock. Here there met +them the usual assemblage of loiterers, who were watching the steamer, +which was already half a mile distant, churning the blue water into foam +behind her, her nose pointed straight towards Sumter. + +Paul watched the line of her smoke for a moment; then he got out of his +carriage, paid the coachman mechanically, told him to take his luggage +to the Charleston Hotel, and walked away, unconscious alike of the +mingled derision and sympathy which his late arrival had drawn from the +group--boys with market-baskets, girls with baby-wagons, slouching +mulattoes with fishing-tackle, and little negroes of tender age with +spongy lips and bare prehensile toes, to whose minds the departure of +the steamer was a daily drama of intensest interest and excitement. + +There was nothing to be done until evening, when he could take the fast +train to New York. Paul went to the Battery; but noticed nothing. A band +from the arsenal began to play; immediately over all the windows of the +tall old houses which looked seaward the white shades descended; +Northern music was not wanted there. He went up Meeting Street; and +noticed nothing. Yet on each side, within sight, were picturesque ruins, +and St. Michael's spire bore the marks of the bomb-shells of the siege. +He opened the gate of the church-yard of the little Huguenot church and +entered; the long inscriptions on the flat stones were quaint, but he +did not read them. He walked into the country by the shaded road across +the neck. Then he came back again. He strolled hither and thither, he +stared at the old Manigault House. Finally, at three o'clock, he went to +the hotel. + +Half an hour later an omnibus came up; waiters in white and bell-boys +with wisp-brushes rushed out, dusty travellers descended; Paul, standing +under the white marble columns, looked on. He still stood there after +the omnibus had rolled away, and all was quiet, so quiet that a cat +stole out and crossed the street, walking daintily on its clean white +paving-stones, and disappearing under a wall opposite. + +A figure came to the doorway behind, Paul became conscious that he was +undergoing inspection; he turned, and scanned the gazer. It proved to be +a muscular, broad-shouldered man of thirty-five, with a short yellow +beard and clumsy features, which were, however, lighted by keen blue +eyes; his clothes were dusty, he carried a travelling-bag; evidently he +was one of the travellers who had just arrived, coming from the Northern +train. A bell-boy came out and looked up and down the colonnade; then, +with his wisp-brush, he indicated Paul. + +"Dat's him, sah.--You was a-asking." + +"All right," said the traveller. Putting his travelling-bag on a bench, +he walked up to Paul. "Think I know you. Mr. Tennant, isn't it--Port aux +Pins? Saw your name on the book. I'm Dr. Knox--the one who was with your +brother." + +Paul's face changed, its fixed look disappeared. "Will you come to my +room?" + +"In twenty minutes. I must have a wash first, and something to eat. Be +here long?" + +"I go North at six o'clock." + +"All right, I'll look sharp, then; we'll have time." + +In twenty minutes he appeared at Paul's door. The door was open, +revealing the usual bachelor's room, with one window, a narrow bed, a +washstand, one chair, a red velvet sofa, with a table before it; the bed +was draped in white mosquito netting; the open window looked down upon a +garden, where were half a dozen negro nurses with their charges--pretty +little white children, overdressed, and chattering in the sweet voices +of South Carolina. + +"Curious that I should have run against you here, when this very moment +I am on my way to hunt you up," said Knox, trying first the chair, and +then the sofa. "I landed twenty-four hours ago in New York; been off on +a long yachting excursion; started immediately after your brother's +death,--perhaps Miss Abercrombie told you? Whole thing entirely +unexpected; had to decide in ten minutes, and go on board in an hour, or +lose the chance; big salary, expenses paid; couldn't afford to lose it. +I'd have written before starting, if it had been possible; but it +wasn't. And after I was once off, my eyes gave way suddenly, and I had +to give them a rest. It wasn't a thing to write, anyway; it was a thing +to _tell_. There was nothing to be done in any case, and such kind of +news will keep; so I decided that as soon as I landed, I'd come down +here and find out about you and Miss Abercrombie; then I was going up to +Port aux Pins--or wherever you were--to see you." + +"I suppose you can tell me--in three words--what all this is about," +said Paul, who had not seated himself. + +"Yes, easy. What do you suppose was the cause of your brother's death?" + +"Pistol-shot," Paul answered, curtly. + +"No, that was over, I had cured him of that; I telegraphed you that the +wound wasn't dangerous, and it wasn't. No, sir; he died of a spree--of a +series of 'em." + +Paul sat down. + +"I say, have some brandy? No? Well, then I'll go on, and get it over. +But don't you go to thinking that I'm down on Ferdie; I'm not, I just +loved that fellow; I don't know when I've seen anybody that took me so. +I was called to him, you know, after those negroes shot him. 'Twasn't in +itself a vital wound; only a tedious one; the difficulty was fever, but +after a while we subdued that. Of course I saw what was behind,--he had +had an attack of something like delirium tremens; it was that which +complicated matters. Well, I went over there every day, sometimes twice +a day; I took the biggest sort of interest in the case, and, besides, we +got to be first-rate chums. I set about doing everything I could for +him, not only in the regular line of business, but also morally, as one +may call it; as a friend. You see, I wanted to open his eyes to the +danger he was in; he hadn't the least conception of it. He thought that +it was only a question of will, and that his will was particularly +strong;--_that_ sort of talk. Well, after rather a slow job of it, I +pronounced him cured--as far as the wound was concerned; all he needed +was rest. Did he take it? By George, sir, he didn't! He slipped off to +Savannah, not letting me know a gleam of it, and there he was joined +by--I don't know whether you have heard that there was a woman in the +case?" + +Paul nodded. + +"And she wasn't the only one, though she supposed she was. From the +first, the drink got hold of him again. And this time it killed him,--he +led an awful life of it there for days. As soon as I found out that he +had gone--which wasn't at once, as I had given up going over there +regularly--I chased up to Savannah after him as fast as I could tear,--I +had the feeling that he was going to the devil! I couldn't find him at +first, though I scoured the town. And when I did, he was past +helping;--all I could do was to try to get him back to Romney; I wanted +him to die decently, at home, and not up there among those-- Well, sir, +he died the next day. I couldn't tell those women down there--Miss +Abercrombie, Mrs. Singleton, and her aunt, Miss Peggy. They were all +there, of course, and crying; but they would have cried a great deal +worse if they had known the truth, and, as there was nothing to be +gained by it for any one, it seemed cruel to tell them. For good women +are awful fools, you know; they are a great deal harder than we are; +they think nothing of sending a man to hell; they're awfully intolerant. +'Tany rate, I made up my mind that I'd say nothing except to you, +leaving it to you to inform the wife or not, as you thought best. Then, +suddenly, off I had to go on that yachting expedition. But as soon as I +landed I started; and, here I am--on the first stage of the journey." + +Paul did not speak. + +"I say, do you take it so hard, then?" said Knox, with an embarrassed +laugh. + +Paul got up. "You have done me the greatest service that one man can do +another." He put out his hand. + +Knox, much relieved, gave it a prolonged shake. "Faults and all, he was +the biggest kind of a trump, wasn't he? Drunkards are death to the +women--to the wives and mothers and sisters; but some of 'em are more +lovable than lots of the moral skinflints that go nagging about, saving +a penny, and grinding everybody but themselves. The trouble with Ferdie +was that he was born without any conscience, just as some people have no +ear for music; it was a case of heredity; and heredity, you know--" + +"You needn't excuse him to _me_," said Paul. + + + + +XXXV. + + +Outside of a walled town in North Italy there stands, on a high hill, an +old villa, which, owing to its position, is visible for miles in every +direction. It was built in the fourteenth century. Its once high tower +was lowered in A. D. 1423. Its blank yellow walls are long, pierced +irregularly by large windows, which are covered with iron cages; massive +doors open upon a square court-yard within; an avenue of cypresses leads +up the bare hill to the entrance. + +Sixteen days after the conversation between Paul Tennant and Edward +Knox, three persons were standing in the court-yard of this villa behind +the closed outer doors. The court-yard was large, open to the sky; a +stone shield, bearing three carved wolves, was tilted forward on one of +the walls; opposite, over a door, there was a headless figure of a man +in armor; a small zinc cross over a smaller door marked the entrance to +the family chapel. In one corner stood a circular stone well, with a +yellow marble parapet supported by grinning masks; in another hung a +wire cord that led to a bell above, which was covered by a little turret +roof, also bearing a cross. There were no vines or flowers, not a green +leaf; the yard was bare, paved with large stones, which, though ancient, +were clean; the blades of grass marking the interstices, usual in Italy, +were absent here. + +Of the three persons who stood together near the well, one was a stout +woman with a square face, an air of decision and business-like +cheerfulness, and pretty hands which she kept crossed on her black +dress. The second was a small, thin man of fifty. The third was Paul +Tennant. + +"I have heard your reasons, I am not satisfied with them," Paul was +saying; "I must insist upon seeing her." + +"But consider, pray--when I tell you that she does not _wish_ to see +you," said the woman, rubbing her hands together, and then looking at +them inspectingly. + +"How can I be sure of that?" + +"You have my word for it." + +"It is as Mrs. Wingate says," interposed the small, thin man, earnestly. +His voice was clear and sweet. + +"Miss Bruce may have said it. But when we have once met--" + +"Well, I think I'll go in now," interrupted Mrs. Wingate, giving her +hands a last rub, looking at them, and then crossing them on her black +dress again. "I've given you twenty minutes, but I've a thousand things +to do; all the clothes to cut out--fancy! I leave you with Mr. Smith. +Good-day." + +"Instead of leaving me, you had better take me to Miss Bruce," said +Paul. + +She shook her finger at him. "Do you think I'd play her such a trick as +that?" She crossed the court, opened a door, and disappeared. + +Paul turned impatiently to Mr. Smith. "There is something that Miss +Bruce must know. Call her down immediately." + +Mr. Smith was silent. Then he said: "I might evade, but I prefer not to; +the lady you speak of has asked our protection, and especially from +you; she is soon to be taken into the Holy Church." + +"So you're a priest, are you?" said Paul, in a fury. + +"And that woman Wingate is your accomplice? Now I know where to have +you!" + +Mr. Smith did not quail, though Paul's fist was close under his nose. "I +am not a priest; Mrs. Wingate is an English lady of fortune, who devotes +her life to charitable works. Miss Bruce came to us of her own accord, +only three days ago. She was ill and unhappy. Now she is--tranquil." + +"Is she--is she alive?" said Paul, his voice suddenly beginning to +tremble. It had come to him that Eve was dead. + +"She is. I may as well tell you that she did not wish to be; but--but it +has been represented to her that our lives are not our own, to cut short +as we please; and so she has repented." + +"I don't believe she has repented!" said Paul, with inconsequent anger. +He hated the word, and the quiet little man. + +"She told me that she had killed some one," Mr. Smith went on, in a +whisper, his voice, even in a whisper, however, preserving its +sweetness. + +"See here!" said Paul, taking him by the arm eagerly; "that is what I +have come for; all these months she has thought so, but it is a mistake; +he died from another cause." + +"Thank God!" said Mr. Smith. + +"Thank God and bring her out, man! _She_ is the one to know." + +"I'll do what I can. But it may not be thought best by those in +authority; I must warn you that I shall obey the orders of my superior, +in any case." + +"Yet you don't look like an ass!" + +"Wait here, please," said Mr. Smith, without noticing this comment. He +opened a door beside the chapel (not the one by which Mrs. Wingate had +entered), and, going in, gently closed it behind him. + +Paul waited. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. He tried all the doors; +they were locked. He went over to the corner where the bell-rope hung +and pulled it twice; "cling-clang! cling-clang!" sounded the bell in its +turret. + +In answer a window opened above, and a large, placid Italian peasant +appeared, looking at him amiably. + +"Mr. Smith?" said Paul. + +"Fuori." + +"Mrs. Wingate, then?" + +"Fuori." + +"There's only one road--the one by which I came up, and I haven't heard +any carriage drive away; if 'Fuori' means out, you are not telling the +truth; they are not out, they are here." + +The Italian smiled, still amiably. + +"Is there any one here who speaks English?" said Paul, in despair. + +"Ingleese? Si." She went off with the same serene expression. Before +long she appeared again at a door below, which she left open; Paul could +see a bare stone-floored hall, with a staircase at the end. + +Presently down the staircase came a quick-stepping little old woman, +with a black lace veil on her head; she came briskly to the door. "I +hear you wish to speak to me?" + +"You're an American," said Paul. "I'm glad of that." + +"Well, you're another, and I'm not glad of it! Americans are limited. +Besides, they are Puritans. My being an American doesn't make any +difference to _you_, that I know of." + +"Yes, it does. You come from a country where no one is shut up." + +"_How about the prisons_?" + +"_For criminals, yes_. _Not for girls_." + +"Girls are silly. Have nothing to do with them until they are older; +that's _my_ advice," said the old lady, alertly. + +"Do you know Miss Bruce?" + +"A little." + +"Take me to her." + +"I can't, she is in retreat." + +"You wouldn't approve of force being used for any one; I am sure you +would not," said Paul, trying to speak gently. + +"Force? Force is never used here, you must be out of your mind. If you +do not see Miss Bruce, you may depend that it is because she does not +_wish_ to see you." + +"She would--if she could hear me say one word!" + +"No doubt you'd cajole her! I'm glad she is where you can't get at her, +poor dear!" + +"She was to have been my wife two weeks ago," said Paul, making a last +effort to soften her. + +"Well, go home now; she'll never be your wife _this_ side the grave," +said the old lady, laughing. + +"I'll make all Italy ring with it, madam. This old house shall come down +about your ears." + +"Mercy me! We're not Italians, we're English. And we've got a +government protection; it's a charitable institution." + +"For inveigling people, and getting their money! Miss Bruce, you know, +has money." + +"I didn't know a thing about it--not a thing! Money, has she? Well, +Ernestine Wingate _does_ like money; she wants to build a new wing. Look +here, young man, Father Ambrose is coming here to-day; you want to see +_him_. He'll do what's right, he is a very good man; and he commands all +the others; they have to do as he says, whether they like it or not,--I +guess you'd better not _hurry_ away." And, with a nod in which there was +almost a wink, the American convert went back down the hall and up the +stairway, disappearing through a door which closed with a sharp bang +behind her. + +Paul crossed the court-yard, and, opening one of the great portals, he +passed through, shutting it behind him. Outside, attached to the wall of +the villa, there ran a long, low stone bench, crumbling and overgrown +with ivy; he sat down here, and remained motionless. + +An hour later a carriage drove up, and a priest descended; he was a man +of fifty-eight or there-abouts, tall, with a fine bearing and an +agreeable face. Paul went up to him, touching his hat as he did so. "Are +you going in?" + +"That is what I have come for," answered the priest, smiling. + +The doors, meanwhile, had been thrown open; the priest passed in, +followed by Paul. + +When they reached the court-yard the priest stopped. "Will you kindly +tell me your business?" + +"It concerns Miss Bruce, an American who has only been here a few days. +She came, supposing that the death of my brother was due to an act of +hers; I have just learned that she is completely mistaken, he died from +another cause." + +"God be praised! She has been very unhappy--very," said the priest, with +sympathy. "This will relieve her." + +"I should like to see her.--The whole community can be present, if you +please." + +"That will hardly be necessary," said Father Ambrose, smiling again. He +went towards the door by the side of the chapel. "I will tell her +myself, I will go at once." He opened the door. + +"I prefer to see her. You have no real authority over her, she has not +yet taken the vows." + +"There has been no talk of vows," said Father Ambrose, waving his hand +with an amused air. "Every one is free here, I don't know what you are +thinking of! If you will give me your address, Miss Bruce will write to +you." + +"Do you refuse to let me see her?" + +"For the present--yes. You must remember that we don't know who you +are." + +"She will tell you." + +"Yes; she is very intelligent," answered the priest, entering the +doorway and preparing to mount the stairs. + +But Paul knocked him down. + +Then he ran forward up the stairs; he opened doors at random, he ran +through room after room; women met him, and screamed. At last, where the +hall turned sharply, Mr. Smith confronted him. Mr. Smith was perfectly +composed. + +"Let me pass," said Paul. + +"In a moment. All shall be as you like, if you will wait--" + +"Wait yourself!" cried Paul, felling him to the floor. Then he ran on. + +At the end of the hall Mrs. Wingate stopped him. Her manner was +unaltered; it was business-like and cheerful; her plump hands were +clasped over her dress. + +"Now," she said, "no more violence! You'll hardly knock down a woman, I +suppose?" + +"Forty, if necessary." + +He thrust her against the wall, and began trying the doors. There were +three of them. Two were locked. As his hand touched the third, Mrs. +Wingate came to his side, and opened it promptly and quietly. + +"No one has ever wished to prevent your entrance," she said. "Your +violence has been unnecessary--the violence of a boor!" + +Paul laughed in her face. + +There was no one in the room. But there was a second door. He opened it. +And took Eve in his arms. + + +THE END. + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Jupiter Lights, by Constance Fenimore Woolson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUPITER LIGHTS *** + +***** This file should be named 34282.txt or 34282.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/8/34282/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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