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diff --git a/old/dsthj10.txt b/old/dsthj10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcd3fc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/dsthj10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5542 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext of Dust by Mr. And Mrs. Haldeman-Julius + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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MARTIN BATTLES WITH DUST +VIII. THE DUST SMOTHERS +IX. MARTIN'S SON SHAKES OFF THE DUST +X. INTO THE DUST-BIN +XI. THE DUST SETTLES + + + +I + +THE DUST IS STIRRED + +DUST was piled in thick, velvety folds on the weeds and grass of +the open Kansas prairie; it lay, a thin veil on the scrawny black +horses and the sharp-boned cow picketed near a covered wagon; it +showered to the ground in little clouds as Mrs. Wade, a tall, +spare woman, moved about a camp-fire, preparing supper in a +sizzling skillet, huge iron kettle and blackened coffee-pot. + +Her husband, pale and gaunt, the shadow of death in his weary +face and the droop of his body, sat leaning against one of the +wagon wheels trying to quiet a wailing, emaciated year-old baby +while little tow-headed Nellie, a vigorous child of seven, +frolicked undaunted by the August heat. + +"Does beat all how she kin do it," thought Wade, listlessly. + +"Ma," she shouted suddenly, in her shrill, strident treble, "I +see Martin comin'." + +The mother made no answer until the strapping, fourteen-year-old +boy, tall and powerful for his age, had deposited his bucket of +water at her side. As he drew the back of a tanned muscular hand +across his dripping forehead she asked shortly: + +"What kept you so long?" + +"The creek's near dry. I had to follow it half a mile to find +anything fit to drink. This ain't no time of year to start +farmin'," he added, glum and sullen. + +"I s'pose you know more'n your father and mother," suggested +Wade. + +"I know who'll have to do all the work," the boy retorted, +bitterness and rebellion in his tone. + +"Oh, quit your arguin'," commanded the mother. "We got enough to +do to move nearer that water tonight, without wastin' time +talkin'. Supper's ready." + +Martin and Nellie sat down beside the red-and-white-checkered +cloth spread on the ground, and Wade, after passing the still +fretting baby to his wife, took his place with them. + +"Seems like he gets thinner every day," he commented, anxiously. + +With a swift gesture of fierce tenderness, Mrs. Wade gathered +little Benny to her. "Oh, God!" she gasped. "I know I'm goin' to +lose him. That cow's milk don't set right on his stomach." + +"It won't set any better after old Brindle fills up on this +dust," observed Martin, belligerency in his brassy voice. + +"That'll do," came sharply from his father. "I don't think this +is paradise no more'n you do, but we wouldn't be the first who've +come with nothing but a team and made a living. You mark what I +tell you, Martin, land ain't always goin' to be had so cheap and +I won't be living this time another year. Before I die, I'm goin' +to see your mother and you children settled. Some day, when +you've got a fine farm here, you'll see the sense of what I'm +doin' now and thank me for it." + +The boy's cold, blue eyes became the color of ice, as he +retorted: "If I ever make a farm out o' this dust, I'll sure 'ave +earned it." + +"I guess your mother'll be doin' her share of that, all right. +And don't you forget it." + +As he intoned in even accents, Wade's eyes, so deep in their +somber sockets, dwelt with a strange, wistful compassion on his +faded wife. The rays of the setting sun brought out the drabness +of her. Already, at thirty-five, grey streaked the scanty, dull +hair, wrinkles lined the worn olive-brown face, and the tendons +of the thin neck stood out. Chaotically, he compared her to the +happy young girl--round of cheek and laughing of eye--he had +married back in Ohio, fifteen years before. It comforted him a +little to remember he hadn't done so badly by her until the war +had torn him from his rented farm and she had been forced to do a +man's work in field and barn. Exposure and a lung wound from a +rebel bullet had sent Wade home an invalid, and during the five +years which had followed, he had realized only too well how +little help he had been to her. + +It is not likely he would have had the iron persistency of +purpose to drag her through this new stern trial if he had not +known that in her heart, as in his, there gnawed ever an +all-devouring hunger to work land of their own, a fervent +aspiration to establish a solid basis of self-sustentation upon +which their children might build. From the day a letter had come +from Peter Mall, an ex-comrade in Wade's old regiment, saying the +quarter-section next his own could be bought by paying annually a +dollar and twenty-five cents an acre for seven years, their hopes +had risen into determination that had become unshakable. Before +the eyes of Jacob and Sarah Wade there had hovered, like a +promise, the picture of the snug farm that could be evolved from +this virgin soil. Strengthened by this vision and stimulated by +the fact of Wade's increasing weakness, they had sold their few +possessions, except the simplest necessities for camping, had +made a canvas cover for their wagon, stocked up with smoked meat, +corn meal and coffee, tied old Brindle behind, fastened a coop of +chickens against the wagon-box and, without faltering, had made +the long pilgrimage. Their indomitable courage and faith, +Martin's physical strength and the pulling power of their two +ring-boned horses --this was their capital. + +It seemed pitifully meager to Wade at that despondent moment, +exhausted as he was by the long, hard journey and the sultry +heat. Never had he been so taunted by a sense of failure, so torn +by the haunting knowledge that he must soon leave his family. To +die--that was nothing; but the fears of what his death might mean +to this group, gripped his heart and shook his soul. + +If only Martin were more tender! There was something so ruthless +in the boy, so overbearing and heartless. Not that he was ever +deliberately cruel, but there was an insensibility to the +feelings of others, a capacity placidly to ignore them, that made +Wade tremble for the future. Martin would work, and work hard; he +was no shirk, but would he ever feel any responsibility toward +his younger brother and sister? Would he be loyal to his mother? +Wade wondered if his wife ever felt as he did--almost afraid of +this son of theirs. He had a way of making his father seem +foolishly inexperienced and ineffectual. + +"I reckon," Wade analysed laboriously, "it's because I'm gettin' +less able all the time and he's growing so fast--him limber an' +quick, and me all thumbs. There ain't nothing like just plain +muscle and size to make a fellow feel as if he know'd it all." + +Martin had never seemed more competent than this evening as, +supper over, he harnessed the horses and helped his mother set +the little caravan in motion. It was Martin who guided them to +the creek, Martin who decided just where to locate their camp, +Martin who, early the next morning, unloaded the wagon and made a +temporary tent from its cover, and Martin who set forth on a +saddleless horse in search of Peter Mall. When he returned, the +big, kindly man came with him, and in Martin's arms there +squealed and wriggled a shoat. + +"A smart boy you've got, Jacob," chuckled Peter, jovially, after +the first heart-warming greetings. "See that critter! Blame me if +Martin, here, didn't speak right up and ask me to lend 'er to +you!" And he collapsed into gargantuan laughter. + +"I promised when she'd growed up and brought pigs, we'd give him +back two for one," Martin hastily explained. + +"That's what he said," nodded Peter, carefully switching his navy +plug to the opposite cheek before settling down to reply, "and +sez I, 'Why, Martin, what d'ye want o' that there shoat? You +ain't got nothin' to keep her on!' 'If I can borrow the pig,' sez +he, 'I reckon I can borrow the feed somewheres.' God knows, he'll +find that ain't so plentiful, but he's got the right idea. A new +country's a poor man's country and fellows like us have to stand +together. It's borrow and lend out here. I know where you can get +some seed wheat if you want to try puttin' it in this fall. +There's a man by the name of Perry--lives just across the +Missouri line--who has thrashed fifteen hundred bushel and he'll +lend you three hundred or so. He's willing to take a chance, but +if you get a crop he wants you should give him back an extra +three hundred." + +It was a hard bargain, but one that Wade could afford to take up, +for if the wheat were to freeze out, or if the grasshoppers +should eat it, or the chinch bugs ruin it, or a hail storm beat +it down into the mud, or if any of the many hatreds Stepmother +Nature holds out toward those trusting souls who would squeeze a +living from her hard hands--if any of these misfortunes should +transpire, he would be out nothing but labor, and that was the +one thing he and Martin could afford to risk. + +The seed deal was arranged, and Martin made the trip six times +back and forth, for the wagon could hold only fifty bushels. +Perry lived twenty miles from the Wades and a whole day was +consumed with each load. It was evening when Martin, hungry and +tired, reached home with the last one; and, as he stopped beside +the tent, he noticed with surprise that there was no sign of +cooking. Nellie was huddled against her mother, who sat, idle, +with little Benny in her arms. The tragic yearning her whole body +expressed, as she held the baby close, arrested the boy's +attention, filled him with clamoring uneasiness. His father came +to help him unhitch. + +"What's the matter with Benny?" + +Wade looked at Martin queerly. "He's dead. Died this mornin' and +your ma's been holding him just like that. I want you should ride +over to Peter's and see if you can fetch his woman." + +"No!" came from Mrs. Wade, brokenly, "I don't want no one. Just +let me alone." + +The shattering anguish in his mother's voice startled Martin, +stirred within him tumultuous, veiled sensations. He was +unaccustomed to seeing her show suffering, and it embarrassed +him. Restless and uncomfortable, he was glad when his father +called him to help decide where to dig the grave, and fell the +timber from which to make a rough box. From time to time, through +the long night, he could not avoid observing his mother. In the +white moonlight, she and Benny looked as if they had been carved +from stone. Dawn was breaking over them when Wade, surrendering +to a surge of pity, put his arms around her with awkward +gentleness. "Ma, we got to bury 'im." + +A low, half-suppressed sob broke from Mrs. Wade's tight lips as +she clasped the tiny figure and pressed her cheek against the +little head. + +"I can't give him up," she moaned, "I can't! It wasn't so hard +with the others. Their sickness was the hand of God, but Benny +just ain't had enough to eat. Seems like it'll kill me." + +With deepened discomfort, Martin hurried to the creek to water +the horses. It was good, he felt, to have chores to do. This +knowledge shot through him with the same thrill of discovery that +a man enjoys when he first finds what an escape from the solidity +of fact lies in liquor. If one worked hard and fast one could +forget. That was what work did. It made one forget--that moan, +that note of agony in his mother's voice, that hurt look in her +eyes, that bronze group in the moonlight. By the time he had +finished his chores, his mother was getting breakfast as usual. +With unspeakable relief, Martin noticed that though pain haunted +her face, she was not crying. + +"I heard while I was over in Missouri, yesterday," he ventured, +"of a one-room house down in the Indian Territory. The fellow who +built it's give up and gone back East. Maybe we could fix a +sledge and haul it up here." + +"I ain't got the strength to help," said Wade. + +Martin's eyes involuntarily sought his mother's. He knew the +power in her lean, muscular arms, the strength in her narrow +shoulders. + +"We'd better fetch it," she agreed. + +The pair made the trip down on horseback and brought back the +shack that was to be home for many years. Eighteen miles off a +man had some extra hand-cut shingles which he was willing to +trade for a horse-collar. While Mrs. Wade took the long drive +Martin, under his father's guidance, chopped down enough trees to +build a little lean-to kitchen and make-shift stable. Sixteen +miles south another neighbor had some potatoes to exchange for a +hatching of chickens. Martin rode over with the hen and her downy +brood. The long rides, consuming hours, were trying, for Martin +was needed every moment on a farm where everything was still to +be done. + +Day by day Wade was growing weaker, and it was Mrs. Wade who +helped put in the crop, borrowing a plow, harrow, and extra team, +and repaying the loan with the use of their own horses and wagon. +Luck was with their wheat, which soon waved green. It seemed one +of life's harsh jests that now, when the tired, ill-nourished +baby had fretted his last, old Brindle, waxing fat and sleek on +the wheat pasture, should give more rich cream than the Wades +could use. "He could have lived on the skimmed milk we feed to +the pigs," thought Martin. + +In the Spring he went with his father into Fallon, the nearest +trading point, to see David Robinson, the owner of the local +bank. By giving a chattel mortgage on their growing wheat, they +borrowed enough, at twenty per cent, to buy seed corn and a plow. +It was Wade's last effort. Before the corn was in tassel, he had +been laid beside Benny. + +Martin, who already had been doing a man's work, now assumed a +man's responsibilities. Mrs. Wade consulted more and more with +him, relied more and more upon his judgment. She was immensely +proud of him, of his steadiness and dependability, but at rare +moments, remembering her own normal childhood, she would think +with compunction: "It ain't right. Young 'uns ought to have some +fun. Seems like it's makin' him too old for his age." She never +spoke of these feelings, however. There were no expressions of +tenderness in the Wade household. She was doing her best by her +children and they knew it. Even Nellie, child that she was, +understood the grimness of the battle before them. + +They were able to thresh enough wheat to repay their debt of six +hundred bushels and keep an additional three hundred of seed for +the following year. The remaining seven hundred and fifty they +sold at twenty-five cents a bushel by hauling them to Fort +Scott--thirty miles distant. Each trip meant ten dollars, but to +the Wades, to whom this one hundred and eighty-seven dollars--the +first actual money they had seen in over a year--was a fortune, +these journeys were rides of triumph, fugitive flashes of glory +in the long, gray struggle. + +That Fall they paid the first installment of two hundred dollars +on their land and Martin persuaded his mother to give and +Robinson to take a chattel on their two horses, old Brindle, her +calf and the pigs, that other much-needed implements might be +bought. Mrs. Wade toiled early and late, doing part of the chores +and double her share of the Spring plowing that Martin, as well +as Nellie, could attend school in Fallon. + +"I don't care about goin'," he had protested squirmingly. + +But on this matter his mother was without compromise. "Don't say +that," she had commanded, her voice shaken and her eyes bright +with the intensity of her emotion; "you're goin' to get an +education." + +And Martin, surprised and embarrassed by his mother's unusual +exhibition of feeling, had answered, roughly: "Aw, well, all +right then. Don't take on. I didn't say I wouldn't, did I?" + +He was twenty-three and Nellie sixteen when, worn out and broken +down before her time, her resistance completely undermined, Mrs. +Wade died suddenly of pneumonia. Within the year Nellie married +Bert Mall, Peter's eldest son, and Martin, at once, bought out +her half interest in the farm, stock and implements, giving a +first mortgage to Robinson in order to pay cash. + +"I'm making it thirty dollars an acre," he explained. + +"That's fair," conceded the banker, "though the time will come +when it will be cheap at a hundred and a half. There's coal under +all this county, millions of dollars' worth waiting to be mined." + +"Maybe," assented Martin, laconically. + +As he sat in the dingy, little backroom of the bank, while +Robinson's pen scratched busily drawing up the papers, he was +conscious of an odd thrill. The land--it was all his own! But +with this thrill welled a wave of resentment over what he +considered a preposterous imposition. Who had made the land into +a farm? What had Nellie ever put into it that it should be half +hers? His mother--now, that was different. She and he had toiled +side by side like real partners; her efforts had been real and +unstinted. If he were buying her out, for instance --but Nellie! +Well, that was the way, he noticed, with many women--doing little +and demanding much. He didn't care for them; not he. From the day +Nellie left, Martin managed alone in the shack, "baching it," and +putting his whole heart and soul into the development of his +quarter-section. + + + +II + +OUT OF THE DUST + +AT thirty-four, Martin was still unmarried, and though he had not +travelled far on that strange road to affluence which for some +seems a macadamized boulevard, but for so many, like himself, a +rough cow-path, he had done better than the average farmer of +Fallon County. To be sure, this was nothing over which to gloat. +A man who received forty cents a bushel for wheat was satisfied; +corn sold at twenty-eight cents, and the hogs it fattened in +proportion. But his hundred and sixty acres were clear from debt, +four thousand dollars were on deposit drawing three per cent in +The First State Bank--the old Bank of Fallon, now incorporated +with Robinson as its president. In the pasture, fourteen sows +with their seventy-five spring pigs rooted beside the sleek herd +of steers fattening for market; the granary bulged with corn; two +hundred bushels of seed wheat were ready for sowing; his +machinery was in excellent condition; his four Percheron mares +brought him, each, a fine mule colt once a year; and the well +never went dry, even in August. Martin was--if one discounted the +harshness of the life, the dirt, the endless duties and the +ever-pressing chores--a Kansas plutocrat. + +One fiery July day, David Robinson drew up before Martin's shack. +The little old box-house was still unpainted without and +unpapered within. Two chairs, a home-made table with a Kansas +City Star as a cloth, a sheetless bed, a rough cupboard, a stove +and floors carpeted with accumulations of untidiness completed +the furnishings. + +"Chris-to-pher Columbus!" exploded Robinson, "why don't you fix +yourself up a bit, Martin? The Lord knows you're going to be able +to afford it. What you need is a wife--someone to look after +you." And as Martin, observing him calmly, made no response, he +added, "I suppose you know what I want. You've been watching for +this day, eh, Martin? All Fallon County's sitting on its +haunches--waiting." + +"Oh, I haven't been worrying. A fellow situated like me, with a +hundred and sixty right in the way of a coal company, can afford +to be independent." + +"You understand our procedure, Martin," Robinson continued. "We +are frank and aboveboard. We set the price, and if you can't see +your way clear to take it there are no hard feelings. We simply +call it off--for good." + +Wade knew how true this was. When the mining first began, several +rebels toward the East had tried profitlessly to buck this +irrefragable game and had found they had battered their +unyielding heads against an equally unyielding stone wall. These +men had demanded more and Robinson's company, true to its threat, +had urbanely gone around their farms, travelled on and left them +behind, their coal untouched and certain to so remain. Such +inelastic lessons, given time to soak in, were sobering. + +"Now," said Robinson, in his amiable matter-of-fact manner, "as I +happen to know the history of this quarter, backwards and +forwards, we can do up this deal in short order. You sign this +contract, which is exactly like all the others we use, and I'll +hand over your check. We get the bottom; you keep the top; I give +you the sixteen thousand, and the thing is done." + +"Well, Martin," he added, genially, as Wade signed his name, +"it's a long day since you came in with your father to make that +first loan to buy seed corn. Wouldn't he have opened his eyes if +any one had prophesied this? It's a pity your mother couldn't +have lived to enjoy your good fortune. A fine, plucky woman, your +mother. They don't make many like her." + +Long after Robinson's buggy was out of sight, Martin stood in his +doorway and stared at the five handsome figures, spelled out the +even more convincing words and admired the excellent reproduction +of The First State Bank. + +"This is a whole lot of money," his thoughts ran. "I'm rich. All +this land still mine--practically as much mine as ever--all this +stock and twenty thousand dollars in money--in cash. It's a fact. +I, Martin Wade, am rich." + +He remembered how he had exulted, how jubilant, even intoxicated, +he had felt when he had received the ten dollars for the first +load of wheat he had hauled to Fort Scott. Now, with a check for +sixteen thousand--SIXTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS!--in his hand, he +stood dumbly, curiously unmoved. + +Slowly, the first bitter months on this land, little Benny's +death from lack of nourishment, his father's desperate efforts to +establish his family, the years of his mother's slow crucifixion, +his own long struggle --all floated before him in a fog of +reverie. Years of deprivation, of bending toil and then, +suddenly, this had come--this miracle symbolized by this piece of +paper. Martin moistened his lips. Mentally, he realized all the +dramatic significance of what had happened, but it gave him none +of the elation he had expected. + +This bewildered and angered him. Sixteen thousand dollars and +with it no thrill. What was lacking? As he pondered, puzzled and +disappointed, it came to him that he needed something by which to +measure his wealth, someone whose appreciation of it would make +it real to him, give him a genuine sense of its possession. What +if he were to take Robinson's advice: fix up a bit and--marry? + +Nellie had often urged the advantages of this, but he had never +had much to do with women; they did not belong in his world and +he had not missed them; he had never before felt a need of +marriage. Upon the few occasions when, driven by his sister's +persistence, he had vaguely considered it, he had shrunk away +quickly from the thought of the unavoidable changes which would +be ushered in by such a step. This shack, itself--no one whom he +would want would, in this day, consent to live in it, and, if he +should marry, his wife must be a superior woman, good looking, +and with the push and energy of his mother. He thought of all she +had meant to his father; and there was Nellie, not to be spoken +of in the same breath, yet making Bert Mall a good wife. What a +cook she was! Memories of her hot, fluffy biscuits, baked +chicken, apple pies and delicious coffee, carried trailing aromas +that set his nostrils twitching. It would be pleasant to have +satisfying meals once more, to be relieved, too, of the bother of +the three hundred chickens, to have some one about in the +evenings. True, there would be expense, oh, such expense--the +courting, the presents, the wedding, the building, the furniture, +and, later, innumerable new kinds of bills. But weren't all the +men around him married? Surely, if they, not nearly as well off +as himself, could afford it, so could he. + +Besides, wasn't it all different now that he held this check in +his hand? These sixteen thousand dollars were not the same +dollars which he had extorted from close-fisted Nature. Each of +those had come so lamely, was such a symbol of sweat and aching +muscles, that to spend one was like parting with a portion of +himself, but this new, almost incredible fortune, had come +without a turn of his hand, without an hour's labor. To Martin, +the distinction was sharp and actual. + +He figured quickly. Five thousand dollars would do wonders. With +that amount, he would build so substantially that his neighbors +could no longer feel the disapprobation in which, according to +Nellie, he was beginning to be held, because of his sordid, +hermit-like life. That five thousand could buy many cows and +additional acreage--but just now a home and a wife would be +better investments. Yes, he would marry and a house should be his +bait. That was settled. He would drive into Fallon at once to see +the carpenter and deposit the check. + +He was already out of the house when a thought struck him. +Suppose he were to meet just the woman he might want? These +soiled, once-blue overalls, these heavy, manure-spotted shoes, +this greasy, shapeless straw hat, with its dozen matches showing +their red heads over the band, the good soils and fertilizers of +Kansas resting placidly in his ears and the lines of his +neck--such a Romeo might not tempt his Juliet; he must spruce up. + +On an aged soap-box behind the house, several inches of grey +water in a battered tin-pan indicated a previous effort. He +tossed the greasy liquid to the ground and from the well, near +the large, home-built barn, refilled the make-shift basin. +Martin's ablutions were always a strenuous affair. In his cupped +hands he brought the water toward his face and, at the moment he +was about to apply it, made pointless attempts to blow it away. +This blowing and sputtering indicated the especial importance of +an occasion--the more important, the more vigorously he blew. +Today, the cold water gave a healthy glow to his face, which, +after much stropping of his razor, he shaved of a week's growth +of beard, tawny as his thick, crisp hair where the sun had not +yet bleached it. This, he soaked thoroughly, in lieu of brushing, +before using a crippled piece of comb. The dividing line between +washed and unwashed was one inch above his neckband and two above +his wrists. Even when fresh from a scrubbing, his hands were not +entirely clean. They had been so long in contact with the earth +that it had become absorbed into the very pores of his skin; but +they were powerful hands, interesting, with long palms and +spatulate fingers. The black strips at the end of each nail, +Martin pared off with his jackknife. + +He entered the house a trifle nervously, positive that his only +clean shirt, at present spread over his precious shot-gun, had +been worn once more than he could have wished, but, after all, +how much of one's shirt showed? It would pass. The coat-shirt not +yet introduced, a man had to slip the old-fashioned kind over his +head, drag it down past his shoulders and poke blindly for the +sleeve openings. Martin was thankful when he felt the collar +buttons in their holes. His salt and pepper suit was of a stiff, +unyielding material, and the first time he had worn it the +creases had vanished never to return. Before putting on his +celluloid collar, he spat on it and smeared it off with the tail +of his shirt. A recalcitrant metal shaper insisted on peeking +from under his lapels, and his ready-made tie with its two grey +satin-covered cardboard wings pushed out of sight, see-sawed, +necessitating frequent adjustments. His brown derby, the rim of +which made almost three quarters of a circle at each side, seemed +to want to get as far as possible from his ears and, at the same +time, remain perched on his head. The yellow shoes looked as +though each had half a billiard ball in the toe, and the entire +tops were perforated with many diverging lines in an attempt for +the decorative. Those were the days of sore feet and corns! Hart +Schaffner and Marx had not yet become rural America's tailor. +Sartorial magicians in Chicago had not yet won over the young men +of the great corn belt, with their snappy lines and style for the +millions. In 1890, when a suit served merely as contrast to a +pair of overalls, the Martin Wades who would clothe themselves +pulled their garments from the piles on long tables. It was for +the next generation to patronize clothiers who kept each suit on +its separate hanger. A moving-picture of the tall, +broad-shouldered fellow, as, with creaking steps, he walked from +the house, might bring a laugh from the young farmers of this +more fastidious day, but Martin was dressed no worse than any of +his neighbors and far better than many. Health, vigor, +sturdiness, self-reliance shone from him, and once his make-up +had ceased to obtrude its clumsiness, he struck one as handsome. +His was a commanding physique, hard as the grim plains from which +he wrested his living. + +As Martin drove into Fallon, his attention was directed toward +the architecture and the women. He observed that the average +homes were merely a little larger than his own--four, six, or +eight rooms instead of one, made a little trimmer with neat +porches and surrounded by well-cut lawns, instead of weeds. He, +with his new budget, could do better. Even Robinson's +well-constructed residence had probably cost only three thousand +more than he himself planned to spend. Its suggestion of +originality had been all but submerged by carpenters spoiled +through constant work on commonplace buildings. But to Martin it +was a marvellous mansion. He told himself that with such a place +moved out to his quarter-section, he could have stood on his +door-step and chosen whomever he wished for a wife. + +It was an elemental materialism, difficult to understand, but it +was a language very clear to Martin. Marriage with the men and +women of his world was a practical business, arranged and +conducted by practical people, who lived practical lives, and +died practical deaths. The women who might pass his way could +deny their lust for concrete possessions, but their actions, +however concealed their motives, would give the lie to any +ineffectual glamour of romance they might attempt to fling over +their carefully measured adventures of the heart. + +Martin smiled cynically as he let his thoughts drift along this +channel. "What a lot of bosh is talked about lovers," his comment +ran. "As if everyone didn't really know how much like drunken men +they are--saying things which in a month they'll have forgotten. +Folks pretend to approve of 'em and all the while they're +laughing at 'em up their sleeves. But how they respect a man +who's got the root they're all grubbing for! It may be the root +of all evil, but it's a fact that everything people want grows +from it. They hate a man for having it, but they'd like to be +him. Their hearts have all got strings dangling from 'em, +especially the women's. A house tied onto the other end ought to +be hefty enough to fetch the best of the lot." + +Who could she be, anyway? Was she someone in Fallon? He drove +slowly, thinking over the families in the different houses--four +to each side of the block. The street, even yet, was little more +than a country road. There was no indication of the six miles of +pavement which later were to be Fallon's pride. It had rained +earlier in the week and Martin was obliged to be careful of the +chuck-holes in the sticky, heavy gumbo soon to be the bane of +pioneers venturing forth in what were to be known for a few short +years as "horseless carriages." + +Bumping along he recalled to his mind the various girls with whom +he had gone to school. As if the sight of the building, itself, +would sharpen his memory, he turned north and drove past it. Like +its south, east and west counterparts, it was a solid two-story +brick affair. In time it would be demolished to make way for what +would be known as the "Emerson School," in which, to be worthy of +this high title, the huge stoves would be supplanted with +hot-water pipes, oil lamps with soft, indirect lighting, and +unsightly out-buildings with modern plumbing. The South building +would become the "Whittier School," the East, the "Longfellow," +and the West, not to be neglected by culture's invasion, the +"Oliver Wendell Holmes." But these changes were still to be +effected. Many a school board meeting was first to be split into +stormy factions of conservatives fighting to hold the old, and of +anarchists threatening civilization with their clamors for +experimentation. Many a bond election was yet to rip the town in +two, with the retired farmers, whose children were grown and +through school, satisfied with things as they were and parents of +the new generation demanding gymnasiums, tennis courts, +victrolas, domestic science laboratories, a public health nurse +and individual lockers. Yes, and the faddists were to win despite +the other side's incontrovertible evidence that Fallon was headed +for bankruptcy and that the proposed bonds and outstanding ones +could never be met. + +Martin drove, meditatively, around the school-house and was still +engrossed in the problem of "Who?" when he reached the Square. +The neat canvas drops of later years had not yet replaced the +wooden awnings which gave to the town such a decidedly western +appearance and which threw the sidewalks and sheltered windows +into deep pools of shadow. The old brick store-building which +housed The First State Bank was like a cool cavern. He brought +out the check quietly but with a full consciousness that with one +gesture he was shoving enough over that scratched and worn walnut +counter to buy out half the bank. + +James Osborne, the youthful cashier, feigned complete paralysis. + +"Why don't you give a poor fellow some warning?" he beamed +good-naturedly, "or maybe you think you've strayed into Wall +Street. This is Fallon. Fallon, Kansas. So you've had your merry +little session with Robinson? Put it here!" and he extended a +cordial hand. + +"Oh, considering the wait, it isn't so wonderful. Sixteen +thousand is an awful lot when it's coming, but it just seems +about half as big when it gets here." + +Martin was talking not so much for Osborne's benefit as to +impress a woman who had entered behind him and was awaiting her +turn. He wondered why, in his mental quest, he had not thought of +her. Here was the very person for whom he was looking. Rose +Conroy, the editor of the better local weekly, a year or so +younger than himself, pleasant, capable. Here was a real woman, +one above the average in character and brains. + +With a quick glance he took in her well-built figure. Everything +about Rose--every line, every tone of her coloring suggested +warmth, generosity, bigness. She was as much above medium height +for a woman as Martin for a man. About her temples the line of +her bright golden-brown hair had an oddly pleasing irregularity. +The rosy color in her cheeks brought out the rich creamy +whiteness of her skin. Warm, gray-blue eyes were set far apart +beneath a kind, broad forehead and her wide, generous mouth +seemed made to smile. The impression of good temper and fun was +accented by her nose, ever so slightly up-tilted. Some might have +thought Rose too large, her hips too rounded, the soft deep bosom +too full, but Martin's eyes were approving. Even her hands, +plump, with broad palms, square fingers and well-kept nails, +suggested decision. He felt the quiet distinction of her simple +white dress. She was like a full-blown, luxuriant white and gold +flower--like a rose, a full-blown white rose, Martin realized, +suddenly. One couldn't call her pretty, but there was something +about her that gave the impression of sumptuous good looks. He +liked, too, the spirited carriage of her head. "Healthy, +good-sense, sound all through," was his final appraisement. + +Pocketing his bank-book, he gave her a sharp nod, a colorless +"how-de-do, Miss Rose," and a tip of the hat that might have been +a little less stiff had he been more accustomed to greeting the +ladies. "Right well, thank you, Martin," was her cordial +response, and her friendly smile told him she had heard and +understood the remarks about the big deal. He was curious to know +how it had impressed her. + +Hurrying out, he asked himself how he could begin advances. +Either he must do something quickly in time to get home for the +evening chores or he must wait until another day. He must think +out a plan, at once. Passing the bakery, half way down the block, +he dropped in, ordered a chocolate ice-cream soda, and chose a +seat near the window. As he had expected, it was not long before +he saw Rose go across the courthouse yard toward her office on +the north side of the square. He liked the swift, easy way in +which she walked. She had been walking the first time he had ever +seen her, thirteen years before, when her father had led his +family uptown from the station, the day of their arrival in +Fallon. + +Patrick Conroy had come from Sharon, Illinois, to perform the +thankless task of starting a weekly newspaper in a town already +undernourishing one. By sheer stubbornness he had at last +established it. Twelve hundred subscribers, their little printing +jobs, advertisers who bought liberal portions of space at ten +cents an inch--all had enabled him to give his children a living +that was a shade better than an existence. He had died less than +a year ago, and Martin, like the rest of the community, had +supposed the Fallon Independent would be sold or suspended. +Instead, as quietly and matter-of-factly as she had filled her +dead mother's place in the home while her brothers and sisters +were growing up, Rose stepped into her father's business, took +over the editorship and with a boy to do the typesetting and +presswork, continued the paper without missing an issue. It even +paid a little better than before, partly because it flattered +Fallon's sense of Christian helpfulness to throw whatever it +could in Rose's way, but chiefly because she made the Independent +a livelier sheet with double the usual number of "Personals." + +Yes, decidedly, Rose had force and push. Martin's mind was made +up. He would drop into the Independent ostensibly to extend his +subscription, but really to get on more intimate terms with the +woman whom he had now firmly determined should become his wife. +He drew a deep breath of relaxation and finished the glass of +sweetness with that sense of self-conscious sheepishness which +most men feel when they surrender to the sticky charms of an +ice-cream soda. A few minutes later he stood beside Rose's worn +desk. + +"How-do-you-do, once more, Miss Rose of Sharon. You're not the +Bible's Rose of Sharon, are you?" he joshed a bit awkwardly. + +"If I were a rose of anywhere, I'd soon wilt in this stuffy +little office of inky smells," she answered pleasantly. "A rose +would need petals of leather to get by here." + +"A rose, by rights, belongs out of doors,"--Martin indicated the +direction of his farm--"out there where the sun shines and +there's no smells except the rich, healthy smells of nature." + +A merry twinkle appeared in Rose's eyes. "Aren't roses out +there"--and her gesture was in the same direction--"rather apt to +be crowded down by the weeds?" + +"Not if there was a good strong man about--a man who wanted to +cultivate the soil and give the rose a pretty place in which to +bloom." + +"Why, Martin," Rose laughed lightly, "the way you're fixed out +there with that shack, the only thing that ever blooms is a fine +crop of rag-weeds." + +At this gratuitous thrust a flood of crimson surged up Martin's +magnificent, column-like throat and broke in hot waves over his +cheeks. "Well, it's not going to be that way for long," he +announced evenly. "I'm going to plant a rose--a real rose there +soon and everything is going to be right--garden, house and all." + +"Is this your way of telling me you're going to be married?" + +"Kinda. The only trouble is, I haven't got my rose yet." + +"Well, if I can't have that item, at least I can print something +about the selling of your coal rights. People will be interested +because it shows the operators are coming in our direction. Here +in Fallon, we can hardly realize all that this sudden new +promotion may mean. From that conversation I heard at the bank I +guess you got the regulation hundred an acre." + +"Yes, and a good part of it is going into a first-class modern +house with a heating plant and running hot and cold water in a +tiled-floor bath-room, and a concrete cellar for the woman's +preserved things and built-in cupboards, lots of closets, a big +garret, and hardwood floors and fancy paper on the walls, and the +prettiest polished golden oak furniture you can buy in Kansas +City, not to mention a big fireplace and wide, sunny porches. A +rose ought to be happy in a garden like that, don't you think? +Folks'll say I've gone crazy when they see my building spree, but +I know what I'm about. It's time I married and the woman who +decides to be my wife is going to be glad to stay with me--" + +"See here, Martin Wade, what ARE you driving at? What does all +this talk mean anyway? Do you want me to give you a boost with +someone?" + +"You've hit it." + +"Who is she?" Rose asked, with genuine curiosity. + +"You," he said bluntly. + +"Well, of all the proposals!" + +"There's nothing to beat around the bush about. I'm only +thirty-four, a hard worker, with a tidy sum to boot--not that I'm +boasting about it." + +"But, Martin, what makes you think I could make you happy?" + +Martin felt embarrassed. He was not looking for happiness but +merely for more of the physical comforts, and an escape from +loneliness. He was practical; he fancied he knew about what could +be expected from marriage, just as he knew exactly how many +steers and hogs his farm could support. This was a new +idea--happiness. It had never entered into his calculations. Life +as he knew it was hard. There was no happiness in those fields +when burned by the hot August winds, the soil breaking into cakes +that left crevices which seemed to groan for water. That sky with +its clouds that gave no rain was a hard sky. The people he knew +were sometimes contented, but he could not remember ever having +known any to whom the word "happy" could be applied. His father +and mother --they had been a good husband and wife. But happy? +They had been far too absorbed in the bitter struggle for a +livelihood to have time to think of happiness. This had been +equally true of the elder Malls, was true today of Nellie and her +husband. A man and a woman needed each other's help, could make a +more successful fight, go farther together than either could +alone. To Martin that was the whole matter in a nutshell, and +Rose's gentle question threw him into momentary confusion. + +"I don't know," he answered uneasily. "We both like to make a +success of things and we'd have plenty to do with. We'd make a +pretty good pulling team." + +Rose considered this thoughtfully. "Perhaps the people who work +together best are the happiest. But somehow I'd never pictured +myself on a farm." + +"Of course, I don't expect you to make up your mind right away," +Martin conceded. "It's something to study over. I'll come around +to your place tomorrow evening after I get the chores done up and +we can talk some more." + +So far as Martin was concerned, the matter was clinched. He felt +not the slightest doubt but that it was merely a question of time +before Rose would consent to his proposition. + +After he had left, she reviewed it a little sadly. It wasn't the +kind of marriage of which she had always dreamed. She realized +that she was capable of profound devotion, of responding with her +whole being to a deep love. But was it probable that this love +would ever come? She thought over the men of Fallon and its +neighborhood. There were few as handsome as Martin--not one with +such generous plans. She knew her own domestic talents. She was a +born housekeeper and home-maker. It had been a curious destiny +that had driven her into a newspaper office, and at that very +moment, there lay on her desk, like a whisper from Fate, the +written offer from the rival paper to buy her out for fifteen +hundred dollars, giving herself a position on the consolidated +staff. She had been pondering over this proposal when Martin +interrupted her. + +It wasn't as if she were younger or likely to start somewhere +else. She would live out her life in Fallon, that she knew. There +was little chance of her meeting new men, and those established +enough to make marriage with them desirable were already married. +Candidly, she admitted that if she turned Martin Wade down now, +she might never have another such opportunity. If only she could +feel that he cared for her--loved her. But wasn't the fact that +he was asking her to be his wife proof of that? It was very +strange. She had never suspected that Martin had ever felt drawn +to her. With a sigh she pressed her large, capable hands to her +heart. Its deep piercing ache brought tears to her eyes. She +felt, bitterly, that she was being cheated of too much that was +sweet and precious--it was all wrong--she would be making a +mistake. For a moment, she was overwhelmed. Then the practical +common sense that had been instilled into her from her earliest +consciousness, even as it had been instilled into Martin, +reasserted itself. After all, perhaps he was right--the busy +people were the happy people. Many couples who began marriage +madly in love ended in the divorce courts. Martin was kind and it +would be wonderful to have the home he had described. She +imagined herself mistress of it, thrilled with the warm +hospitality she would radiate, entertained already at missionary +meetings and at club. At least, she would be less lonely. It +would be a fuller life than now. What was she getting, really +getting, alone, out of this world? She and Martin would be good +partners. Poor boy! What a long, hard, cheerless existence he had +led. Tenderness welled in her heart and stilled its pain. Perhaps +his emotions were far deeper than he could express in words. His +way was to plan for her comfort. Wasn't there something big about +his simple cards-on-the-table wooing? And he had called her his +rose, his Rose of Sharon. The new house was to be the garden in +which she should blossom. To be sure, he had said it all +awkwardly, but Rose, who was devout, knew the stately Song of +Solomon and as she recalled the magnificent outburst of passion +she almost let herself be convinced that Martin was a poet-lover +in the rough. + +And all the while, giving pattern to her flying thoughts, the +contents of a letter, received the day before, echoed through her +mind. Her sister, Norah, the youngest of the family, had told of +her first baby. "We have named her for you, darling," she wrote. +"Oh, Rose, she has brought me such deep happiness. I wonder if +this ecstasy can last. Her little hand against my breast--it is +so warm and soft--like a flower's curling petal, as delicate and +as beautiful as a butterfly's wing. I never knew until now what +life really meant." As Rose reread the throbbing lines and +pictured the eager-eyed young mother, her own sweet face glowed +with reflected joy and with the knowledge that this ecstasy, this +deeper understanding could come to her, too--Martin, he was +vigorous, so worthy of being the father of her children. He would +love them, of course, and provide for them better than any other +man she knew. Had not Norah married a plain farmer who was only a +tenant? The new little Rose's father was not to be compared to +Martin, and yet he had brought the supreme experience to her +sister. So Rose sat dreaming, the arid level of monotonous days +which, one short hour ago, had stretched before her, flowering +into fragrant, sun-filled fields. + +Meanwhile, Martin congratulated himself upon having found a woman +as sensible, industrious and free from foolish notions, as even +he could wish. + + + +III + +DUST IN HER HEART + +SIX weeks later Martin and Rose were married. Martin had let the +contract for the new house and barn to Silas Fletcher, Fallon's +leading carpenter, who had the science of construction reduced to +utter simplicity. He had listened to Martin's description of what +he wished and, after some rough figuring, had proceeded to draw +the plans on the back of a large envelope. Both Rose and Martin +knew that those rude lines would serve unfailingly. For three +thousand dollars Fletcher would build the very house Martin had +pictured to Rose: a two-story one with four nice rooms and a bath +upstairs, four rooms and a pantry downstairs, a floored garret, +concrete cellar, an inviting fireplace and wide porches. For two +thousand dollars he would give a substantial barn capable of +holding a hundred tons of hay and of accommodating twenty cows +and four horses. + +Rose had been deeply touched by the thoroughness of Martin's +plans, by his unfailing consideration for her comfort. True, +there had been moments when her warm, loving nature had been +chilled. At such times, misgivings had clamored and she had, +finally, all but made up her mind to tell him that she could not +go on--that it had all been a mistake. She would say to him, she +had decided: "Martin, you are one of the kindest and best men, +and I could be happy with you if only you loved me, but you don't +really care for me and you never will. I feel it. Oh, I do! and I +could not bear it--to live with you day in and day out and know +that." + +But she had reckoned without her own goodness of heart. On the +very evening on which she had quite determined to tell Martin +this decision he also had arrived at one. As soon as he had +entered Rose's little parlor he had exclaimed with an enthusiasm +unusual with him: "We broke the ground for your new garden, +today, Rose of Sharon, and Fletcher wants to see you. There are +some more little things you'll have to talk over with him. He +understands that you're the one I want suited." + +Rose had felt suddenly reassured. Why, she had asked herself +contritely, couldn't she let Martin express his love in his own +way? Why was she always trying to measure his feelings for her by +set standards? + +"I've been wondering," he had gone on quickly, "what you would +think of putting up with my old shack while the new house is +being built? It wouldn't be as if you were going to live there +for long and you'd be right on hand to direct things." + +"Why, I could do that, of course," she had answered pleasantly. +"If you've lived there all these years, I surely ought to be able +to live there a few months, but Martin--" + +"I know what you're going to say," he had interrupted hastily. +"You think we ought to wait a while longer, but if we're going to +pull together for the rest of our lives why mightn't we just as +well begin now? Why is one time any better than another?" + +There had been a wistfulness, so rarely in Martin's voice, that +Rose had detected it instantly. After all, why should she keep +him waiting when he needed her so much, she had thought tenderly, +all the sweet womanliness in her astir with yearnings to lift the +cloud of loneliness from his life. + +Rose had always believed love a breath of beauty that would hold +its purity even in a hovel, but she had not been prepared for the +sordidness that seemed to envelop her as she crossed the +threshold of the first home of her married life. Martin, held in +the clutch of the strained embarrassment that invariably laid its +icy fingers around his heart whenever he found himself confronted +by emotion, had suggested that Rose go in while he put up the +horse and fed the stock. "Don't be scared if you find it pretty +rough," he had warned, to which her light answer had lilted back, +"Oh, I shan't mind." + +And, as she stood in the doorway a moment later, her eyes taking +in one by one, the murky windows, the dirty floor, the unwashed +dishes, the tumbled bed, the rusty, grease bespattered stove +choked with cold ashes, she told herself hotly that it was not +the dirt nor even the desperate crassness that was smothering her +joy. It was the fact that there was nowhere a touch to suggest +preparation for her home-coming. Martin had made not even the +crudest attempt to welcome her. It would have been as easy for +Rose to be cheerful in the midst of mere squalor as for a flower +to bloom white in a crowded tenement, but at the swift +realization of the lack of tenderness for her which this +indifference to her first impressions so clearly expressed, her +faith in the man she had married began to wither. He had failed +her in the very quality in which she had put her trust. Already, +he had carelessly dropped the thoughtfulness by which he had won +her. She wondered how she could have made herself believe that +Martin loved her. "He has tried so hard in every way to show me +how much I would mean to him," she justified herself. "But now he +has me he just doesn't care what I think." + +As Rose forced herself to face this squarely, something within +her crumpled. Grim truth leered at her, hurling dust on her +bright wings of illusion, poking cruel jests. "This is your +wedding day," it taunted, "that tall figure out there near the +dilapidated barn feeding his hogs is your husband. Oh, first, +sweet, most precious hours! How you will always like to remember +them! Here in this dirty shanty you will enter into love's +fulfillment. How romantic! Why doesn't your heart leap and your +arms ache for your new passion?" Tears pushed against her +eyelids. Her new life was not going to be happy. Of this she was +suddenly, irrevocably certain. + +Rose struggled against a complete break-down. This was no time +for a scene. What was the matter with her, anyway? Of course, +Martin had not meant to disappoint her, nor deliberately hurt +her. He probably thought this first home so temporary it didn't +count. She simply would not mope. Of that she was positive, and a +brave little smile swimming up from her troubled heart, she set +about, with much energy, to achieve order, valiantly fighting +back her insistent tears as she worked. + +Meanwhile, Martin, totally oblivious of any cause for storm, was +making trips to and from the barrel which contained shorts mixed +with water' skimmed milk and house slops, the screaming, +scrambling shoats gulping the pork-making mixture as rapidly as +he could fetch it. He worked unconsciously, thinking, typically, +not of Rose's reaction to this new life, but of what it held in +store for himself. + +He glanced toward the shack. Already the mere fact of a woman's +presence beneath its roof seemed, to him, to give it a different +aspect. Through the open door he observed that Rose was sweeping. +How he had always hated the thought of any one handling what was +his! He dumped another bucket of slops into the home-made trough. +Why couldn't she just let things alone and get supper quietly? +Heaven only knew what he had gotten himself into! But of one +thing he was miserably certain; never again would he have that +comfortable seclusion to which he had grown so accustomed. He had +known this would be true, but the sight of Rose and her broom +brought the realization of it home to him with an all too +irritating vividness. Yes, everything was going to be different. +There would be many changes and he would never know what to +expect next. Why had he brought this upon himself; had he not +lived alone for years? He had let the habit of obtaining whatever +he started after get the better of him. Even today he could have +drawn back from this marriage. But, he had sensed that Rose was +about to do so herself, and this knowledge had pushed his +determination to the final notch. + +Martin shook his head ruefully. "This is 'The Song of Songs," he +smiled, "and there is my Rose of Sharon. Guess I was never +intended for a Solomon." Now that she was so close to him, in the +very core of his life, this woman frightened him; instead of +desire, there was dread. He wished Rose had been a man that he +might go into that shack and eat ham and eggs with him while they +talked crops and politics and animals. There would be no thrills +in this opening chapter and he, if not his wife, would be shaken. + +Martin was mental, an incurable individualist who found himself +sufficient unto himself. He was different from his neighbors in +that he was always thinking, asking questions and pondering over +his conclusions. He had convinced himself that each demand of the +body was useless except the food that nourished it, the clothes +that warmed it and the sleep that repaired it. He hated soft +things and the twist in his mind that was Martin proved to him +their futility. Love? It was an empty dream, a shell that fooled. +Its joys were fleeting. There was but one thing worth while and +that was work. The body was made for it--the thumb to hold the +hammer, the hand to pump the water and drive the horses, the legs +to follow the plow, herd the cattle and chase the pigs from the +cornfield, the ears to listen for strange noises from the stock, +the eyes to watch for weeds and discover the lice on the hens, +the mouth to yell the food call to the calves, the back to carry +the bran. Work meant money, and money meant--what? It was merely +a stick that measured the amount of work done. Then why did he +toil so hard and save so scrupulously? His answer was always +another question. What was there in life that could enable one to +forget it faster? That woman in there waiting for him--oh, she +would suffer before she realized the truth of this lesson he had +already learned, and Martin felt a little pity for her. + +When he went in for supper, Rose was just beginning to prepare +it. With a catch of anger in his manner, he gave her a sharp look +and saw that she had been crying. He couldn't remember ever +before having had to deal with a weeping woman; even when Benny +had died and his mother had been so shaken she had not given way +to tears; so this was to be another of the new experiences which +must trot in with marriage. It annoyed him. + +"What's the matter, Rose?" + +"Nothing at all, Martin." + +"Nothing? You don't cry about nothing, do you?" + +"No." Rose felt a sudden fear; she sensed a lack of pity in +Martin, an unwillingness even to try to understand her +conflicting emotions. + +"Then you're crying about something. What is it?" There was +command in his question. Martin was losing patience. He knew +tears were used as weapons by women, but why in the world should +Rose need any sort of weapon on the first day of their marriage? +He hadn't done anything to her, said anything unkind. Was she +going to be unreasonable? Now he was sure it was all wrong. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded, his voice rising. + +"Nothing's the matter. I'm just a little nervous." Rose began to +cry afresh. If only Martin had come to her and put his arms +around her, she would have been able to throw off her newly-born +fear of him and this disheartening shattering of her faith in his +kindness. But he was going to the other extreme, growing harder +as she was becoming more panicky. + +"Nervous? What's there to be nervous about?" Rose's answer was +stifled sobbing. "You're not sorry you married today, I hope?" +She shook her head. "Then what's this mean, anyway?" + +"I was wondering if we are going to be happy after all--" + +"Happy? You don't like this place. That's the trouble. I was +afraid of this, but I thought you knew what you were about when +you said you could stand it for a while." + +"Oh, it isn't the house itself, Martin," she hastened to correct +truthfully, sure that she had gone too far. "I--I--know we'll be +happy." + +Again this talk about happiness. He did not like it. He had never +hunted for happiness, and he was contented. Why should she +persist in this eternal search for this impossible condition? He +supposed that occasionally children found themselves in it, but +surely grown-ups could not expect it. The nearest they could +approach it was in forgetting that there was such a state by +finding solace in constant occupation. + +"Let's eat," he announced. "I'm sick of this wrangling. Seems to +me you're not starting off just right." + +Rose hastened to prepare the meal, finding it more difficult to +be cheerful as she realized how indifferent Martin was to her +feelings, if only she presented a smooth surface. He had not +seemed even to notice how orderly and freshened everything was. +She thought of the new experience soon to be hers. Could it make +up for all the understanding and friendly appreciation that she +saw only too clearly would be missing in her daily life? +Resolutely, she suppressed her doubts. + +Martin, bothered by an odd feeling of strangeness in the midst of +his own familiar surroundings, smoked his pipe in silence and +studied Rose soberly. Why, he asked himself, was he unmoved by a +woman who was so attractive? He liked the deftness with which her +hands worked the pie dough, the quick way she moved between stove +and table, yet mingled with this admiration was a slight but +distinct hostility. How can one like and have an aversion to a +person at the same time? he pondered. "I suppose," he concluded +grimly, "it's because I'm supposed to love and adore her--to +pretend a lot of extravagant feelings." + +His mind travelled to the stock in the pasture. How stolid they +were and how matter of fact and how sensible. They affected no +high, nonsensical sentiments. Weren't they, after all, to be +envied, rooted as they were in their solid simplicity? Why should +human beings everlastingly try so hard to be different? He and +Rose would have to get down to a genuine basis, and the quicker +the better. Meanwhile he must remember that, whether he was glad +or sorry, she was there, in his shack, because he had asked her +to come. + +As he ate his second helping of the excellent meal, he said +pleasantly: "You do know how to cook, Rose." + +Her soft gray-blue eyes brightened. "I love to do it," she +answered quickly. "You must tell me the things you like best, +Martin. If I had a real stove with a good oven, I could do much +better." + +"Could you? We'll get one tomorrow." + +"That'll be fine!" she smiled, eager to have all serene between +them, and as she passed him to get some coffee her hand touched +his in a swift caress. Instantly, Martin's cordiality vanished; +his hostility toward her surged. Even as a boy he had hated to be +"fussed over." Well, he had married and he would go through with +it. If only Rose would be more matter of fact; not look at him +with that expression which made him think of a confiding child. +What business had a grown woman with such trust in her eyes, +anyway? + +It was quite gone, in the early dawn, as Rose sat on the edge of +the bed looking at her husband. Never had she felt so far from +him, so certain that he did not love her, as when she had lain +quivering but impassive in his arms. "I might be just any woman," +she had told herself, astounded and stricken to find how little +she was touched by this experience which she had always believed +bound heart to heart and crowned the sweet transfusion of +affection from soul into soul. "It doesn't make any more +difference to him who I am than who cooks for him." + +Not that Martin had been unkind, except negatively. Intuitively, +Rose understood that their first evening and night foreshadowed +their whole lives. Not in what Martin would do, but in what he +would not do, would lie her heartaches. Yet in her sad +reflections there was no bitterness toward him; he had +disappointed her, but perhaps it was only because she had taught +herself to expect something rare, even spiritual, from marriage. +Her idealism had played her a trick. + +With the quiet relinquishment of this long-cherished dream, +eagerness for the realization of an even more precious one took +possession of her. She comforted herself with the thought that +maybe life had brought Martin merely as a door to the citadel +which looms, sparkling with dancing sunlight, in the midst of +mysterious shadows. Motherhood--she would feel as if she were in +another world. Out of all this disappointment would come her +ultimate happiness. + +Always struggling toward happiness, she was cheered too as the +foundation for the house progressed. Everything would be so +different, she told herself, once they were in their pretty new +home. It was true she had given up a concrete floor for her +cellar, but she had seen at once the good sense of having the +concrete in the barn instead. Martin was right. While it would +have been nice in the house, of course, it would not have begun +to be the constant blessing to herself that it would now be to +him. How much easier it would make keeping the barn clean! Why, +it was almost a duty in a dairy barn to have such a floor and +really she, herself, could manage almost as well with the dirt +bottom. But when Martin began to discuss eliminating the whole +upper story of the house, Rose protested. + +"You won't use it," he had returned reasonably. "I'll keep my +word, but when a body gets to figuring and sees all that can be +built with that same money, it seems mighty foolish to put it +into something that you don't really need." + +As Martin looked at her questioningly, Rose felt suddenly unable +to muster an argument for the additional sleeping-rooms. It was +true that they were not actually necessary for their comfort; but +the house as it had been decided upon was so interwoven with +memories of her courtship and all that was lovable in Martin; it +had become so real to her, that it was as if some dear possession +were being torn to pieces before her eyes. + +"I don't know why, Martin," she had answered, with a choky little +laugh, "but it seems as if I just can't bear to give it up." + +"Why?" + +"I--I--like it all so well the way you planned it." + +"Just liking a thing isn't always good reason for having it. +It'll make lots more for you to take care of. What would you say +if I was to prove to you that it would build a fine +chicken-house, one for the herd boar, a concrete tank down in the +pasture that'd save the cows enough trips to the barn to make 'em +give a heap sight more milk, a cooling house for it and a good +tool room?" Rose's eyes opened wide. "I can prove it to you." + +That was all. But the shack filled with his disapproval of her +reluctance to free him from his promise. She remembered one time +when she had come home from school in a pelting rain that had +changed, suddenly, to hail. There had seemed no escape from the +hard, little balls and their cruel bruises. Just so, it seemed to +her, from Martin, outwardly so calm as he read his paper, the +harsh, determined thoughts beat thick and fast. Turn what way she +would, they surrounded, enveloped and pounded down upon her. Her +resolution weakened. Wasn't she paying too big a price for what +was, after all, only material? The one time she and Martin had +seemed quite close had been the moment in which she had agreed so +quickly to change the location of the concrete floor. Now she had +utterly lost him. She could scarcely endure the aloofness with +which he had withdrawn into himself. + +"Martin," she said a bit huskily, two evenings later, at supper, +"I've decided that you are right. It is foolish and extravagant +of me to want a second story when there are just the two of us. +It will be better to have all those other things you told me +about." + +Martin did not respond; simply continued eating without looking +up. This was a habit of his that nearly drove Rose desperate. In +her father's household meals had always been friendly, sociable +affairs. Patrick Conroy had been loquacious and by way of a wit; +sharpened on his, Rose's own had developed. They had dealt in +delicious nonsense, these two, and had her husband been of a +different temperament she might have found it a refuge in her +life with him. But, somehow, from the first, even before they +were married, when with Martin, such chatter had died unuttered +on Rose's tongue. The few remarks which she did venture, +nowadays, had the effect of a disconcerting splash before they +sank into the gloomy depths of the thick silence. Occasionally, +in sheer self defense, she carried on a light monologue, but +Martin's lack of interest gave her such an odd, lonely, +stage-struck sensation that she, too, became untalkative, keeping +to herself the ideas which chased through her ever-active mind. +Innately just, she attributed this peculiarity of his to the fact +that he had lived so long alone, and while it fretted her, she +usually forgave him. But tonight, as no answer came, it seemed to +her that if Martin did not at least raise his eyes, she must +scream or throw something. + +"It would be a godsend to be the sort who permits oneself to do +such things," she told herself, a suggestion of a smile touching +her lips, and mentally she sent dish after dish at him, watching +them fall shattered to the floor. Dismay at the relief this gave +her brought the dimples into her cheeks. Her voice was pleasant +as she asked: "Martin, did you hear your spouse just now?" + +Annoyance flitted across his face and crept into his tone as he +answered tersely: "Of course, I heard you." Presently he finished +his meal, pushed back his chair and went out. + +Nothing further was said between them on the subject, but when +the scaffolding went up she saw that it was for only one story. +It might have comforted her a little, had she known what uneasy +moments Martin was having. In spite of himself, he could not +shake off the consciousness that he had broken his word. That was +something which, heretofore, he had never done. But, heretofore, +his promises had been of a strictly business nature. He would +deliver so many bushels of wheat at such and such a time; he +would lend such and such a piece of machinery; he would supply so +many men and so many teams at a neighbor's threshing; he would +pay so much per pound for hogs; he would guarantee so many eggs +out of a setting or so many pounds of butter in so many months +from a cow he was selling. A few such guarantees made good at a +loss to himself, a few such loads delivered in adverse weather, a +few such pledges of help kept when he was obliged actually to +hire men, had established for him an enviable reputation, which +Martin was of no mind to lose. Had Rose not released him from his +promise he would have kept it. Even now he was disturbed as to +what Fletcher and Fallon might think. But already he had lived +long enough with his wife to understand something of the quality +of her pride. Once having agreed to the change, she would carry +it off with a dash. + +Had Rose stood her ground on this matter, undoubtedly all her +after life might have been different, but she was of those women +whose charm and whose folly lie in their sensitiveness to the +moods and contentment of the people most closely associated with +them. They can rise above their own discomfort or depression, but +they are utterly unable to disregard that of those near them. +This gave Martin, who by temperament and habit considered only +his own feelings, an incalculable advantage. His was the old +supremacy of the selfish over the self sacrificing, the hard over +the tender, the mental over the emotional. Add to this, the fact +that with all his faults, perhaps largely because of them, +perhaps chiefly because she cooked, washed, ironed, mended, and +baked for him, kept his home and planned so continually for his +pleasure, Martin was dear to Rose, and it is not difficult to +understand how unequal the contest in which she was matched when +her wishes clashed with her husband's. It was predestined that +he, invariably, should win out. + +Rose told her friends she and her husband had decided that the +second story would make her too much work, and Martin noticed +with surprise how easily her convincing statement was accepted. +He decided, for his own peace of mind, that he had nothing with +which to reproach himself. He had put it up to her and she had +agreed. This principal concession obtained, other smaller ones +followed logically and rapidly. The running water and bath in the +house were given up for piping to the barn, and stanchions--then +novelties in southeastern Kansas. The money for the hardwood +floors went into lightning rods. Built-in cupboards were +dismissed as luxuries, and the saving paid for an implement shed +which delighted Martin, who had figured how much expensive +machinery would be saved from rust. When it came to papering the +walls he decided that the white plaster was attractive enough and +could serve for years. Instead, he bought a patented +litter-carrier that made the job of removing manure from the barn +an easy task. The porches purchased everything from a brace and +bit to a lathe for the new tool-room and put the finishing +touches to the dairy. The result was a four-room house that was +the old one born again, and such well-equipped farm buildings +that they were the pride of the township. + +Rose, who had surrendered long since, let the promises go to +naught without much protest. Martin was so quietly domineering, +so stubbornly persistent--and always so plausible--oh, so +plausible! --that there was no resisting him. Only when it came +to the fireplace did she make a last stand. She felt that it +would be such a friendly spirit in the house. She pictured Martin +and herself sitting beside it in the winter evenings. + +"A house without one is like a place without flowers," she +explained to him. + +"It's a mighty dirty business," he answered tersely. "You would +have to track the coal through the rest of the house and you'd +have all those extra ashes to clean out." + +"But you would never see any of the dirt," she argued with more +than her usual courage, "and if I wouldn't mind the ashes I don't +see why you should." + +"We can't afford it." + +"Martin, I've given in to you on everything else," she asserted +firmly. "I'm not going to give this up. I'll pay for it out of my +own money." + +"What do you mean 'out of my own money'?" he asked sternly. "I +told Osborne we'd run one account. If what is mine is going to be +yours, what is yours is going to be mine. I'd think your own +sense of fairness would tell you that." + +As a matter of fact, Martin had no intention of ever touching +Rose's little capital, but he had made up his mind to direct the +spending of its income. He would keep her from putting it into +just such foolishnesses as this fireplace. But Rose, listening, +saw the last of her independence going. She felt tricked, +outraged. During the years she had been at the head of her +father's household, she had regulated the family budget and, no +matter how small it had happened to be, she always had contrived +to have a surplus. This notion of Martin's that he, and he alone, +should decide upon expenditures was ridiculous. She told him so +and in spite of himself, he was impressed. + +"All right," he said calmly. "You can do all the buying for the +house. Write a check with my name and sign your own initials. Get +what you think we need. But there isn't going to be any +fireplace. You can just set that down." + +Voice, eyes, the line of his chin, all told Rose that he would +not yield. Nothing could be gained from a quarrel except deeper +ill feeling. With a supreme effort of will she obeyed the +dictates of common sense and ended the argument abruptly. + +But, for months after she was settled in the new little house, +her eye never fell on the space where the fireplace should have +been without a bitter feeling of revolt sweeping over her. She +never carried a heavy bucket in from the pump without thinking +cynically of Martin's promises of running water. As she swept the +dust out of her front and back doors to narrow steps, she +remembered the spacious porches that were to have been; and as +she wiped the floors she had painted herself, and polished her +pine furniture, she was taunted by memories of the smooth boards +and the golden oak to which she had once looked forward so +happily. This resentment was seldom expressed, but its flame +scorched her soul. + +Her work increased steadily. She did not object to this; it kept +her from thinking and brooding; it helped her to forget all that +might have been, all that was. She milked half the cows, +separated the cream, took charge of the dairy house and washed +all the cans. Three times a week she churned, and her butter +became locally famous. She took over completely both the chickens +and the garden. Often, because her feet ached from being on them +such long hours, she worked barefoot in the soft dirt. According +to the season, she canned vegetables, preserved fruit, rendered +lard and put down pork. When she sat at meals now, like Martin +she was too tired for conversation. From the time she arose in +the morning until she dropped off to sleep at night, her +thoughts, like his, were chiefly of immediate duties to be +performed. One concept dominated their household--work. It seemed +to offer the only way out of life's perplexities. + + + +IV + +ROSE-BUD IN THE DUST + +UNDER this rigid regime Martin's prosperity increased. Although +he would not have admitted it, Rose's good cooking and the sweet, +fresh cleanliness with which he was surrounded had their effect, +giving him a new sense of physical well-being, making his mind +more alert. Always, he had been a hard worker, but now he began +for the first time to take an interest in the scientific aspects +of farming. He subscribed for farm journals and put real thought +into all he did, with results that were gratifying. He grew the +finest crop of wheat for miles around; in the season which +brought others a yield of fifteen or twenty bushels to the acre, +Martin averaged thirty-three, without buying a ton of commercial +fertilizer. His corn was higher than anybody's else; the ears +longer, the stalks juicier, because of his careful, intelligent +cultivating. In the driest season, it resisted the hot winds; +this, he explained, was the result of his knowing how to prepare +his seed bed and when to plant --moisture could be retained if +the soil was handled scientifically. He bought the spoiled +acreage of his neighbors, which he cut up for the silo--as yet +the only one in the county--adding water to help fermentation. +His imported hogs seemed to justify the prices he paid for them, +growing faster and rounder and fatter than any in the surrounding +county. The chinch bugs might bother everyone else, but Martin +seemed to be able to guard against them with fair success. He +took correspondence courses in soils and fertilizers, animal +husbandry and every related subject; kept a steady stream of +letters flowing to and from both Washington and the State +Agricultural College. + +Now and then it crossed his mind that with the farm developing +into such an institution it would be more than desirable to pass +it on to one of his own blood, and secretly he was pleased when +Rose told him a baby was coming. A child, a son, might bring with +him a little of what was missing in his marriage with her. She +irritated him more and more, not by what she did but by what she +was. Her whole temperament, in so much as he permitted himself to +be aware of it, her whole nature, jarred on his. + +"When is it due?" + +"October." + +"It's lucky harvest will be over; silo filling, too," was his +only comment. + +In spite of Rose's three long years with Martin his lack of +enthusiasm was like a sharp stab. What had she expected, she +asked herself sternly. To be taken in his arms and rejoiced over +as others were at such a moment? What did he care so long as he +wouldn't have to hire extra help for her in the busy season! It +was incredible--his hardness. + +Why couldn't she hate him? He was mean enough to her, surely. +"I'm as foolish as old Rover," she thought bitterly. The faithful +dog lived for his master and yet Rose could not remember ever +having seen Martin give him a pat. "When I once hold my own +little baby in my arms, I won't care like this. I'll have someone +else to fill my heart," she consoled herself, thrilling anew with +the conviction that then she would be more than recompensed for +everything. The love she had missed, the house that had been +stolen from her--what were they in comparison to this growing bit +of life? Meanwhile, she longed as never before to feel near to +Martin. She could not help recalling how gallantly her father had +watched over her mother when she carried her last child and how +eagerly they all had waited upon her. At times, the contrast was +scarcely to be borne. + +Rose was troubled with nausea, but Martin pooh-poohed, as +childish, the notion of dropping some of her responsibilities. +Didn't his mares work almost to the day of foaling? It was good +for them, keeping them in shape. And the cows--didn't they go +about placidly until within a few hours of bringing their calves? +Even the sows--did they droop as they neared farrowing? Why +should a woman be so different? Her child would be healthier and +she able to bring it into the world with less discomfort to +herself if she went about her ordinary duties in her usual way. +Thus Martin, impersonally, logically. + +"That would be true," Rose agreed, "if the work weren't so heavy +and if I were younger." + +"It's the work you're used to doing all the time, isn't it? +Because you aren't young is all the more reason you need the +exercise. You're not going to hire extra help, so you might just +as well get any to-do out of your mind," he retorted, the dreaded +note in his voice. + +She considered leaving him. If she had earned her living before, +she could again. More than once she had thought of doing this, +but always the hope of a child had shone like a tiny bright star +through the midnight of her trials. Since she had endured so +much, why not endure a little longer and reap a dear reward? +Then, too, she could never quite bring herself to face the +pictures her imagination conjured of Martin, struggling along +uncared for. Now, as her heart hardened against him, an inner +voice whispered that everyone had a right to a father as well as +a mother, and Martin might be greatly softened by daily contact +with a little son or daughter. In fairness, she must wait. + +Yet, she knew these were not her real reasons. They lay far +deeper, in the very warp and woof of her nature. She did not +leave Martin because she could not. She was incapable of making +drastic changes, of tearing herself from anyone to whom she was +tied by habit and affection--no matter how bitterly the mood of +the moment might demand it. Always she would be bound by +circumstances. True, however hard and adverse they might prove, +she could adapt herself to them with rare patience and dignity, +but never would she be able to compel them to her will, rise +superbly above them, toss them aside. Her life had been, and +would be, shaped largely by others. Her mother's death, the +particular enterprise in which her father's little capital had +been invested, Martin's peculiar temperament --these had moulded +and were moulding Rose Wade. At the time she came to Martin's +shack, she was potentially any one of a half dozen women. It was +inevitable that the particular one into which she would evolve +should be determined by the type of man she might happen to +marry, inevitable that she would become, to a large degree, what +he wished and expected, that her thoughts would take on the +complexion of his. Lacking in strength of character? In power of +resistance, certainly. Time out of mind, such malleability has +been the cross of the Magdalenes. Yet in what else lies the +secret of the harmony achieved by successful wives? + +And as, her nausea passing, Rose began to feel a glorious +sensation of vigor, she decided that perhaps, after all, Martin +had been right. Child-bearing was a natural function. People +probably made far too much fuss about it. Nellie came to help her +cook for the threshers and, for the rest, she managed very well, +even milking her usual eight cows and carrying her share of the +foaming buckets. + +All might have gone smoothly if only she had not overslept one +morning in late September. When she reached the barn, Martin was +irritable. She did not answer him but sat down quietly by her +first cow, a fine-blooded animal which soon showed signs of +restlessness under her tense hands. + +"There! There! So Bossy," soothed Rose gently. + +"You never will learn how to manage good stock," Martin +criticized bitingly. + +"Nor you how to treat a wife." + +"Oh, shut up." + +"Don't talk to me that way." + +As she started to rise, a kick from the cow caught her square on +the stomach with such force that it sent her staggering backward, +still clutching the handle of the pail from which a snowy stream +cascaded. + +"Now what have you done?" demanded Martin sternly. "Haven't I +warned you time and again that milk cows are sensitive, nervous? +Fidgety people drive them crazy. Why can't you behave simply and +directly with them! Why is it I always get more milk from mine! +It's your own fault this happened--fussing around, taking out +your ill temper at me on her. Shouting at me. What could you +expect?" + +For the first time in their life together, Rose was frankly +unnerved. It seemed to her that she would go mad. "You devil!" +she burst out, wildly. "That's what you are, Martin Wade! You're +not human. Your child may be lost and you talk about cows letting +down more milk. Oh God! I didn't know there was any one living +who could be so cruel, so cold, so diabolical. You'll be punished +for this some day--you will--you will. You don't love me--never +did, oh, don't I know it. But some time you will love some one. +Then you'll understand what it is to be treated like this when +your whole soul is in need of tenderness. You'll see then what--" + +"Oh, shut up," growled Martin, somewhat abashed by the violence +of her broken words and gasping sobs. "You're hysterical. You're +doing yourself as much harm right now as that kick did you." + +"Oh, Martin, please be kind," pleaded Rose more quietly. "Please! +It's your baby as much as mine. Be just half as kind as you are +to these cows." + +"They have more sense," he retorted angrily. And when Rose woke +him, the following night, to go for the doctor, his quick +exclamation was: "So now you've done it, have you?" + +As the sound of his horse's hoofs died away, it seemed to her +that he had taken the very heart out of her courage. She thought +with anguished envy of the women whose husbands loved them, for +whom the heights and depths of this ordeal were as real as for +their wives. It seemed to her that even the severest of pain +could be wholly bearable if, in the midst of it, one felt +cherished. Well, she would go through it alone as she had gone +through everything else since their marriage. She would try to +forget Martin. She WOULD forget him. She must. She would keep her +mind fixed on the deep joy so soon to be hers. Had she not chosen +to suffer of her own free will, because the little creature that +could be won only through it was worth so much more than anything +else the world had to offer? She imagined the baby already +arrived and visualized him as she hoped her child might be at two +years. Suppose he were in a burning house, would she have the +courage to rescue him? What would be the limit of her endurance +in the flames? She laughed to herself at the absurdity of the +question. How well she knew its answer! She wished with +passionate intensity that she could look into the magic depths of +some fairy mirror and see, for just the flash of one instant, +exactly how her boy or girl really would look. How much easier +that would make it to hold fast to the consciousness that she was +not merely in pain, but was laboring to bring forth a warm +flesh-and-blood child. There was the rub--in spite of her +eagerness, the little one, so priceless, wasn't as yet quite +definite, real. She recalled the rosy-checked, curly-haired +youngster her fancy had created a moment ago. She would cling to +that picture; yes, even if her pain mounted to agony, it should +be of the body only; she would not let it get into her mind, not +into her soul, not into the welcoming mother-heart of her. + +Meanwhile, as she armored her spirit, she built a fire, put on +water to heat, attended capably to innumerable details. Rose was +a woman of sound experience. She had been with others at such +times. It held no goblin terrors for her. Had it not been for +Martin's heartlessness, she would have felt wholly equal to the +occasion. As it was, she made little commotion. Dr. Bradley, +gentle and direct, had been the Conroys' family physician for +years. Nellie, who arrived in an hour, had been through the +experience often herself, and was friendly and helpful. + +She liked Rose, admired her tremendously and the thought--an odd +one for Nellie--crossed her mind that tonight she was downright +beautiful. When at dawn, Dr. Bradley whispered: "She has been so +brave, Mrs. Mall, I can't bear to tell her the child is not +alive. Wouldn't it be better for you to do so?" She shrank from +the task. "I can't; I simply can't," she protested, honest tears +pouring down her thin face. + +"Could you, Mr. Wade?" + +Martin strode into Rose's room, all his own disappointment adding +bitterness to his words: "Well, I knew you'd done it and you +have. It's a fine boy, but he came dead." + +Out of the dreariness and the toil, out of the hope, the +suffering and the high courage had come--nothing. As Rose lay, +the little still form clasped against her, she was too broken for +tears. Life had played her another trick. Indignation toward +Martin gathered volume with her returning strength. + +"You don't deserve a child," she told him bitterly. "You might +treat him when he grew up as you treat me." + +"I've never laid hand to you," said Martin gruffly, certain +stinging words of Nellie's still smarting. When she chose, his +sister's tongue could be waspish. She had tormented him with it +all the way to her home. He had been goaded into flaring back and +both had been thoroughly angry when they separated, yet he was +conscious that he came nearer a feeling of affection for her than +for any living person. Well, not affection, precisely, he +corrected. It was rather that he relished, with a quizzical +amusement, the completeness of their mutual comprehension. She +was growing to be more like their mother, too. Decidedly, this +was the type of woman he should have married, not someone soft +and eager and full of silly sentiment like Rose. Why didn't she +hold her own as Nellie did? Have more snap and stamina? It was +exasperating--the way she frequently made him feel as if he +actually were trampling on something defenseless. + +He now frankly hated her. There was not dislike merely; there was +acute antipathy. He took a delight in having her work harder and +harder. It used to be "Rose," but now it was always "say" or +"you" or "hey." Once she asked cynically if he had ever heard of +a "Rose of Sharon" to which he maliciously replied: "She turned +out to be a Rag-weed." + +Yet such a leveller of emotions and an adjuster of disparate +dispositions is Time that when they rounded their fourth year, +Martin viewed his life, with a few reservations, as fairly +satisfactory. He turned the matter over judicially in his mind +and concluded that even though he cared not a jot for Rose, at +least he could think of no other woman who could carry a larger +share of the drudgery in their dusty lives, help save more and, +on the whole, bother him less. He, like his rag-weed, had settled +down to an apathetic jog. + +Rose was convinced that Martin would make too unkind a father; he +had no wish for another taste of the general confusion and +disorganized routine her confinement had entailed. Besides, it +would be inconvenient if she were to die, as Dr. Bradley quite +solemnly had warned him she might only too probably. Without any +exchange of words, it was settled there should not be another +child--settled, he dismissed it. In a way, he had come to +appreciate Rose, but it was absurd to compliment anyone, let +alone a wife whom he saw constantly. Physically, she did not +interest him; in fact, the whole business bored him. It was +tiresome and got one nowhere. He decided this state of mind must +be rather general among married people, and reasoned his way to +the conclusion that marriage was a good thing in that it drove +out passion and placed human animals on a more practicable +foundation. If there had been the likelihood of children, he +undoubtedly would have sought her from time to time, but with +that hope out of their lives the attraction died completely. + +When he was through with his work, it was late and he was sleepy. +When he woke early in the morning, he had to hurry to his stock. +So that which always had been less than secondary, now became +completely quiescent, and he was satisfied that it should. It +never occurred to him to consider what Rose might be thinking and +feeling. She wondered about it, and would have liked to ask +advice from someone--the older Mrs. Mall or Dr. Bradley--but +habitual reserve held her back. After all, she decided finally, +what did it matter? Meanwhile, financially, things were going +better than ever. + +Martin had the most improved farm in the neighborhood; he was +looked up to by everyone as one of the most intelligent men in +the county, and his earnings were swelling, going into better +stock and the surplus into mortgages which he accumulated with +surprising rapidity. Occasionally, he would wonder why he was +working so hard, saving so assiduously and investing so +consistently. His growing fortune seemed to mean little now that +his affluence was thoroughly established. For whom was he +working? he would ask himself. For the life of him, he could not +answer. Surely not for his Rag-weed of Sharon. Nellie? She was +well enough fixed and he didn't care a shot for her husband. Then +why? Sometimes he pursued this chain of thought further, "I'll +die and probably leave five times as much as I have now to her +and who knows what she'll do with it? I'll never enjoy any of it +myself. I'm not such a fool as to expect it. What difference can +a few thousand dollars more or less make to me from now on? Then +why do I scheme and slave? Pshaw! I've known the answer ever +since I first turned the soil of this farm. The man who thinks +about things knows there's nothing to life. It's all a grinding +chase for the day when someone will pat my cheek with a spade." + +He might have escaped this materialism through the church, but to +him it offered no inducements. He could find nothing spiritual in +it. In his opinion, it was a very carnal institution conducted by +very hypocritical men and women. He smiled at their Hell and +despised their Heaven. Their religion, to him, seemed such a +crudely selfish affair. They were always expecting something from +God; always praying for petty favors--begging and whining for +money, or good crops, or better health. Martin would have none of +this nonsense. He was as selfish as they, probably more so, he +conceded, but he hoped he would never reach the point of currying +favor with anyone, even God. With his own good strength he would +answer his own prayers. This farm was the nearest he would ever +come to a paradise and on it he would be his own God. Rose did +not share these feelings. She went to church each Sunday and read +her Bible daily with a simple faith that defied derision. Once, +when she was gone, Martin idly hunted out the Song of Solomon. +His lips curled with contempt at the passionate rhapsody. He knew +a thing or two, he allowed, about these wonderful Roses of Sharon +and this Song of Songs. Lies, all lies, every word of it! Yet, in +spite of himself, from time to time, he liked to reread it. He +fancied this was because of the sardonic pleasure its superlative +phrases gave him, but the truth was it held him. He despised +sentiment, tenderness, and, by the strangeness of the human mind, +he went, by way of paradox, to the tenderest, most sublime spot +in a book supreme in tenderness and sublimity. + +At forty, he owned and, with the aid of two hired hands, worked +an entire section of land. The law said it was his and he had the +might to back up the law. On these six hundred and forty broad +acres he could have lived without the rest of the world. Here he +was King. Other farms he regarded as foreign countries, their +owners with impersonal suspicion. Yet he trusted them after a +fashion, because he had learned from many and devious dealings +with a large assortment of people that the average human being is +honest, which is to say that he does not steal his neighbor's +stock nor fail to pay his just debts if given plenty of time and +the conditions have the explicitness of black and white. He knew +them to be as mercenary as himself, with this only difference: +Where he was frankly so, they pretended otherwise. They bothered +him with their dinky deals, with their scrimping and scratching, +and their sneaky attempts to hide their ugliness by the +observance of one set day of sanctuary. Because they seemed to +him so two-faced, so trifling, so cowardly, he liked to "stick" +them every time he had a fair chance and could do it within the +law. It was his favorite game. They worked so blindly and went on +so stupidly, talking so foolishly, that it afforded him sport to +come along and take the bacon away from them. + +All held him a little in awe, for he was of a forbidding bearing, +tall, grave and thoughtful; accurate in his facts and sure of +himself; slow to express an opinion, but positive in his +conclusions; seeking no favors, and giving none; careful not to +offend, indifferent whether he pleased. He would deceive, but +never insult. The women were afraid of him, because he never +"jollied." He had no jokes or bright remarks for them. They were +such useless creatures out of their particular duties. There was +nothing to take up with them. Everyone rendered him much the same +respectful manner that they kept on tap for the leading citizens +of the town, David Robinson, for instance. Indeed, Martin himself +was somewhat of a banker, for he was a stockholder and director +of the First State Bank, where he was looked up to as a shrewd +man who was too big even for the operation of his magnificent +farm. He understood values. When it came to loans, his judgment +on land and livestock was never disputed. If he wanted to make a +purchase he did not go to several stores for prices. He knew, in +the first place, what he should pay, and the business men, +especially the hardware and implement dealers, were afraid of his +knowledge, and still more of his influence. + +About Rose, too, there was a poise, an atmosphere of background +which inspired respect above her station. When Mrs. Wade said +anything, her statement was apt to settle the matter, for on +those subjects which she discussed at all, she was an authority, +and on those which she was not, her training in Martin's +household had taught her to maintain a wise silence. The stern +self-control had stolen something of the tenderness from her +lips. There were other changes. The sunlight had faded from her +hair; the once firm white neck was beginning to lose its +resilience. Deep lines furrowed her cheeks from mouth to jaw, and +fine wrinkles had slipped into her forehead. There were delicate +webs of them about her patient eyes, under which lack of sleep +and overwork had left their brown shadows. Since the birth of her +baby she had become much heavier and though she was still neat, +her dresses were always of dark colors and made up by herself of +cheap materials. For, while she bought without consulting Martin, +her privilege of discretion was confined within strict and narrow +limits. He kept a meticulous eye on all her cancelled checks and +knew to a penny what she spent. If he felt a respect for her +thrift it was completely unacknowledged. They worked together +with as little liking, as little hatred, as two oxen pulling a +plow. + +It had been a wise day for both, thought Fallon, when they had +decided to marry--they were so well mated. What a model and +enviable couple they were! To Rose it seemed the essence of irony +that her life with Martin should be looked upon as a flower of +matrimony. Yet, womanlike, she took an unconfessed comfort in the +fact that this was so--that no one, unless it were Nellie, was +sufficiently astute to fathom the truth. To be sure, the Wades +were never spoken of as "happy." They were invariably alluded to +as "good folks," "true blue," "solid people," "ideal husband and +wife," or "salt of the earth." + +Each year they gave a round sum to the church, and Martin took +caustic gratification in the fact that, although his attitude +toward it and religion was well known, he too was counted as one +of the fold. To do its leaders justice, he admitted that this +might have been partly through their hesitancy to hurt Rose who +was always to be found in the thick of its sale-dinners, bazaars +and sociables. How she was able to accomplish so much without +neglecting her own heavy duties, which now included cooking, +washing, mending and keeping in order the old shack for the hired +men, was a topic upon which other women feasted with appreciative +gusto, especially at missionary meetings when she was not +present. It really was extraordinary how much she managed to put +into a day. Early as Martin was up to feed his stock, she was up +still earlier that she might lend a hand to a neighbor, harrowed +by the fear that gathered fruit might perish. Late as he plowed, +in the hot summer evenings, her sweaty fingers were busy still +later with patching, brought home to boost along some young wife +struggling with a teething baby. She seemed never too rushed to +tuck in an extra baking for someone even more rushed than +herself, or to make delicious broths and tasty dishes for sick +folk. In her quiet way, she became a real power, always in +demand, the first to be entrusted with sweet secrets, the first +to be sent for in paralysing emergencies and moments of sorrow. +The warmth of heart which Martin ridiculed and resented, +intensified by its very repression, bubbled out to others in +cheery helpfulness, and blessed her quick tears. + +Of her deep yearning for love, she never spoke. Just when she +would begin to feel almost self-sufficient it would quicken to a +throbbing ache. Usually, at such times, she buried it +determinedly under work. But one day, yielding to an impulse, she +wrote to Norah asking if her little namesake could come for a +month's visit. + +"I know she is only seven," the letter ran, "but I am sure if she +were put in care of the conductor she would come through safely, +and I do so want to see her." After long hesitation, she enclosed +a check to cover expenses. She was half frightened by her own +daring and did not tell Martin until she had received the reply +giving the date for the child's arrival. + +"I earned that, Martin," she returned determinedly to his +emphatic remonstrance. "And when the check comes in it's going to +be honored." + +"A Wade check is always honored," was his cryptic assertion. "I +merely say," he added more calmly, "that if we are to board her, +and I don't make any protest over that at all, it seems to me +only fair that her father should have bought the ticket." + +"Maybe you're right--in theory. But then she simply couldn't have +come and I've never seen her. I first knew of her the very day +you asked me to marry you. I've thought of her, often and often. +Her mother named her after me and calls her 'Little Rose of +Sharon, Illinois'." + +"Another rag-weed, probably," said Martin, shortly. Yet, to his +own surprise, he was not altogether sorry she was to come--this +house of his had never had a child in it for more than a few +hours. He was rather curious to find out how it would seem. If +only her name were not Rose, and if only she were not coming from +Sharon. + +But little Rose, with her dark brown curls, merry expression, +roguish nose and soft radiance swept all his misgivings and +prejudices before her. One might as well hold grudges against a +flower, he thought. He liked the confiding way she had of +suddenly slipping her little hand into his great one. Her prattle +amused him, and he was both flattered and worried by the +fearlessness with which she followed him everywhere. She seemed +to bring a veritable shower of song into this home of long +silences. The very chaos made Mrs. Wade's heart beat +tumultuously, and once when Martin came upon the little girl +seated solemnly in the midst of a circle of corncob dolls, his +throat contracted with an extraordinary tightness. + +"You really are a rose--a lovely, sweet brown Rose of Sharon," he +had exclaimed, forgetting his wife's presence and not stopping to +think how strange the words must sound on his lips. "If you'll +give me a kiss, I'll let you ride on old Jettie." + +The child scrambled to her feet and, seated on his broad +shoulder, granted the demand for toll. Her aunt's eyes filled. +This was the first time she had ever heard Martin ask for +something as sentimental as a kiss. She was thoroughly ashamed of +herself for it--it was really too absurd!--but she felt jealousy, +an emotion that had never bothered her since they had been +married. And this bit of chattering femininity had caused it. +Mrs. Wade worked faster. + +The kiss was like the touch of silk against Martin's cheek. He +felt inexplicably sad as he put the child down again among her +playthings. There was, he realized with a shock, much that he was +missing, things he was letting work supplant. He wished that boy +of theirs could have lived. All might have been different. He had +almost forgotten that disappointment, had never understood until +this moment what a misfortune it had been, and here he was being +gripped by a more poignant sense of loss than he had ever before +felt, even when he had lost his mother. + +Wonderful as little Rose was, she was not his own. But, he +wondered suddenly, wasn't this aching sense of need perhaps +something utterly different from unsatisfied paternal instinct? +He turned his head toward the kitchen where his Rag-weed was +working and asked himself if she were gone and some other woman +were here--such as little Rose might be when she grew up, one to +whom he went out spontaneously, would not his life be more +complete and far more worth while? What a fool he was, to bother +his head with such get-nowhere questions! He dismissed them +roughly, but new processes of thought had been opened, new +emotions awakened. + +Meanwhile, little Rose's response to his clumsy tenderness taught +him many unsuspected lessons. He never would have believed the +pleasure there could be in simply watching a child's eyes light +with glee over a five-cent bag of candy. It began to be a regular +thing for him to bring one home from Fallon, each trip, and the +gay hunts that followed as she searched for it--sometimes to find +the treasure in Martin's hat, sometimes under the buggy seat, +sometimes in a knobby hump under the table-cloth at her +plate--more than once brought his rare smile. For years +afterward, the memory of one evening lingered with him. He was +resting in an old chair tipped back against the house, thinking +deeply, when the little girl, tired from her play, climbed into +his lap and, making a cozy nest for herself in the crook of his +arm, fell asleep. He had finished planning out the work upon +which he had been concentrating and had been about to take her +into the house when he suddenly became aware of the child's +loveliness. In the silvery moonlight all the fairy, flower-like +quality of her was enhanced. Martin studied her closely, +reverently. It was his first conscious worship of beauty. Leaning +down to the rosy lips he listened to the almost imperceptible +breathing; he touched the long, sweeping lashes resting on the +smooth cheeks and lifted one of the curls the wind had been +ruffling lightly against his face. With his whole soul, he +marvelled at her softness and relaxation. A profound, pitying +rebellion gripped him at the idea that anything so sweet, so +perfect must pass slowly through the defacing furnaces of time +and pain. "Little Rose of Sharon!" he thought gently, conscious +of an actual tearing at his heart, even a startling stinging in +his eyes. With an abruptness that almost awakened her, he carried +her in to his wife. + +Mrs. Wade felt an inexplicable hurt at the decidedness of little +Rose's preference for Martin. She could not understand it. She +took exquisite care of her, cooked the things she liked best, let +her mess to her heart's content in the kitchen, made her dolls +pretty frocks, cuddled her, told her stories and stopped her work +to play with her on rainy days--but she could not win the same +affection the little girl bestowed so lavishly on Martin. If left +to herself she was always to be found with the big, silent man. + +As the month's visit lengthened into three, it was astonishing +what good times they had together. If he was pitching hay, her +slender little figure, short dress a-flutter, was to be seen +standing on the fragrant wagonload. At threshing time, she darted +lightly all over the separator, Martin's watchful eye constantly +upon her, and his protective hand near her. She went with him to +haul the grain to mill and was fascinated by the big scales. On +the way there and back he let her hold the great lines in her +little fists. In the dewy mornings, she hop-skipped and jumped by +his side into the pasture to bring in the cows. She flitted in +and out among them during milking time. + +"I think she makes them too nervous, Martin," Rose had once +remarked. "Better run out, darling, until we finish and then come +help auntie in the dairy." + +"They might as well get used to her," he had answered tersely. +"It'll hurt her feelings to be sent away." + +Rose could scarcely believe her ears. Memories, bitter, +intolerable, crowded upon her. Had the little girl really changed +Martin so completely? Oh, if only her boy could have lived! +Perhaps she had made a great mistake in being so determined not +to have another. Was it too late now? She looked at her husband. +Well as she knew every detail of his fine, clean cut features, +his broad shoulders and rippling muscles, they gave her a sudden +thrill. It was as if she were seeing him again for the first time +in years. If only he could let a shadow of this new +thoughtfulness and kindliness fall on her, they might even yet +bring some joy into each other's lives. They had stepped off on +the wrong foot. Why, they really hadn't been even acquainted. +They had been led into thinking so because of the length of time +they had both been familiar figures in the same community. Beyond +a doubt, if they were being married today, and she understood him +as she did now, she could make a success of their marriage. But, +as it was, Martin was so fixed in the groove of his attitude of +utter indifference toward her that she felt there was little +chance of ever jogging him out of it. To Rose, the very fact that +the possibility of happiness seemed so nearly within reach was +what put the cruel edge to their present status. + +She did not comprehend that Martin definitely did not want it +changed. Conscious, at last, that he was slowly starving for a +woman's love, beginning to brood because there was no beauty in +his life, he was looking at her with eyes as newly appraising as +her own. He remembered her as she had been that day in the bank, +when he had thought her like a rose. She had been all white and +gold then; now, hair, eyes, skin, and clothes seemed to him to be +of one earthy color. Her clean, dull calico dress belted in by +her checked apron revealed the ungraceful lines of her figure. +She looked middle-aged and unshapely, when he wanted youth and an +exquisite loveliness. Well, he told himself, harshly, he was not +likely to get it. There was no sense in harboring such notions. +They must be crushed. He would work harder, much harder, hard +enough to forget them. There was but one thing worth while--his +farm. He would develop it to its limits. + +Accordingly, when little Rose returned to Sharon, he and his +Rag-weed soon settled themselves to the old formula of endless +toil, investing the profits in sound farm mortgages that were +beginning to tax the capacity of his huge tin box in the vault of +the First State Bank. + + + +V + +DUST BEGETS DUST + +YET, through the Wades' busy days the echo of little Rose's visit +lingered persistently. Each now anxiously wanted another child, +but both were careful to keep this longing locked in their +separate bosoms. Their constraint with each other was of far too +long a standing to permit of any sudden exchange of confidences. +It was with this hope half-acknowledged, however, and in her mind +the recent memories of a more approachable Martin, that Rose +began to make a greater effort with her appearance. By dint of +the most skillful maneuvering, she contrived to purchase herself +a silk dress--the first since her marriage. It was of dark blue +crepe-de-chine, simply but becomingly made, the very richness of +its folds shedding a new luster over her quiet graciousness and +large proportions. Even her kind, capable hands seemed subtly +ennobled as they emerged from the luscious, well fitting sleeves, +and the high collar, with its narrow edge of lace, stressed the +nobility of her fine head. When she came home from church, she +did not, as she would have heretofore, change at once into +calico, but protected by a spick and span white apron, kept on +the best frock through dinner and, frequently, until chore time +in the afternoon. In the winter, too, she was exposed less to sun +and wind and her skin lost much of its weathered look. She took +better care of it and was more careful with the arrangement of +her hair. Gradually a new series of impressions began to register +on Martin's brain. + +One Sunday she came in fresh and ruddy from the drive home in the +cold, crisp air. Martin found it rather pleasant to watch her +brisk movements as she prepared the delayed meal. He observed, +with something of a mental start, that today, at least, she still +had more than a little of the old sumptuous, full-blown quality. +It reminded him, together with the deft way in which she hurried, +without haste, without flurry, of their first evening in the +shack, nearly seven years ago. How tense they both had been, how +afraid of each other, how she had irritated him! Well, he had +grown accustomed to her at last, thanks be. Was he, perhaps, +foolish not to get more out of their life--it was not improbable +that a child might come. Why had he been taking it so for granted +that this was out of the question? When one got right down to it, +just what was the imaginary obstacle that was blocking the +realization of this deep wish? Her chance of not pulling through? +He'd get her a hired girl this time and let her have her own head +about things. She'd made it all right once, why not again? The +settledness of their habitual neutrality? What of it? He would +ignore that. It wasn't as if he had to court her, make +explanations. She was his wife. He didn't love her, never had, +never would, but life was too short to be overly fastidious. It +was flying, flying --in a few more years he would be fifty. +Fifty! And what had it all been about, anyway? He did have this +farm to show for his work--he had not made a bad job of that, he +and his Rag-weed. In her own fashion she was a good sort, and +better looking than most women past forty. + +Rose felt the closeness of his scrutiny, sensed the unusual +cordiality of his mood, but from the depths of her hardly won +wisdom took no apparent notice of it. She knew well enough how +not to annoy him. If only she had not learned too late! What was +it about Martin, she wondered afresh, that had held her through +all these deadening years? Her love for him was like a stream +that, disappearing for long periods underground, seemed utterly +lost, only to emerge again unexpectedly, cleared of all past +murkiness, tranquil and deep. + +This unspoken converging of minds, equivocal though it was on +Martin's part, resulted gradually in a more friendly period. Rose +always liked to remember that winter, with its peace that +quenched her thirsty heart and helped to blur the recollection of +old unkindnesses long since forgiven, but still too vividly +recalled. When, a year later, Billy was born, she was swept up to +that dizzy crest of rapture which, to finely attuned souls, is +the recompense and justification of all their valleys. + +Martin watched her deep, almost painful delight, with a profound +envy. He had looked forward, with more anticipation than even he +himself had realized, to the thrill which he had supposed +fatherhood would bring, taking it entirely for granted that he +would feel a bond with this small reincarnation of his own being, +but after the first week of attempting to get interested in the +unresponsive bundle that was his son, he decided the idea of a +baby had certainly signified in his mind emotions which this +tiny, troublesome creature, with a voice like a small-sized +foghorn, did not cause to materialize. No doubt when it grew into +a child he would feel very differently toward it--more as he did +toward little Rose, but that was a long time to wait, and +meanwhile he could not shake off a feeling of acute +disappointment, of defeated hopes. + +By the end of the second month, he was sure he must have been out +of his senses to bring such a nuisance upon himself and into his +well-ordered house. Not only was his rest disturbed with trying +regularity by night, and his meals served with an equally trying +irregularity by day, but he was obliged to deal with an +altogether changed wife. For, yielding as Rose was in all other +matters, where Billy was concerned she was simply imperturbable. +At times, as she held the chubby little fellow to her breast or +caught and kissed a waving pink foot, she would feel a sense of +physical weakness come over her--it seemed as if her breath would +leave her. Martin could be what he might; life, at last, was +worth its price. With the courage of her mother-love she could +resist anything and everyone. + +To her, the relative importance of the farm to Billy was as +simple as a problem in addition. She had lost none of her old +knack for turning off large amounts of work quickly, but she +firmly stopped just short of the point where her milk might be +impaired by her exertions. Martin had insisted that the +requirement for hired help was over; however, in despair over his +wife's determined sabotage, it was Martin himself who commanded +that the girl be reinstated for another two months. + +Rose was a methodical mother and not overly fussy. As soon as +Billy could sit in a highchair or an ordinary packing box on the +floor, she kept him with her while she went about her different +tasks, cooing and laughing with him as she worked, but when he +needed attention she could disregard calling dishes, chickens, +half-churned butter, unfinished ironing, unmilked cows or an +irate husband with a placidity that was worthy of the old Greek +gods. Martin was dumbfounded to the point of stupefaction. He was +too thoroughly self-centred, however, to let other than his own +preferences long dominate his Rag-weed's actions. Her first duty +was clearly to administer to his comfort, and that was precisely +what she would do. It was ridiculous, the amount of time she gave +to that baby--out of all rhyme and reason. If she wasn't feeding +him, she was changing him; if she wasn't bathing him she was +rocking him to sleep. And there, at last, Martin found a tangible +point of resistance, for he discovered from Nellie that not only +was it not necessary to rock a baby, but that it was contrary to +the new ideas currently endorsed. Reinforced, he argued the +matter, adding that he could remember distinctly his own mother +had never rocked Benny. + +"Yes, and Benny died." + +"It wasn't her fault if he did," he retorted, a trifle +disconcerted. + +"I don't know about that. She took chances I would never take +with Billy. She sacrificed him, with her eyes open, for you and +Nellie--gave him up so that you could have this farm." + +Martin did not care for this new version. "What has that to do +with the question?" he demanded coldly. + +"Just this--your mother had her ideas and I have mine. I am going +to raise Billy in my own way." But, for weeks thereafter she +managed with an almost miraculous adroitness to have him asleep +at meal times. + +At seven months, Billy was the most adorable, smiling, cuddly +baby imaginable, with dimples, four teeth and a tantalizing hint +of curl in his soft, surprisingly thick, fawn-colored hair. +Already, it was quite evident that he had his mother's sensitive, +affectionate nature. If only his father had picked him up, +occasionally, had talked to him now and then, he scarcely could +have resisted the little fellow's crowing, sweet-tempered, +responsive charm, but resentment at the annoyance of his presence +was now excessive. For the present, Martin's only concern in his +son consisted in seeing to it that his effacement was as nearly +complete as possible. + +The long-impending clash came one evening after a sultry, dusty +day when Rose, occupied with a large washing in the morning and +heavy work in the dairy in the afternoon, realized with +compunction that never had she come so near to neglecting her +boy. Tired and hot from fretting, he had been slow about going to +sleep, and was just dozing off, when Martin came in, worn out and +hungry. + +"Isn't supper ready yet?" + +"All but frying the sausage," Rose answered, achieving a pleasant +tone in spite of her jadedness. "He's almost turning the +corner--hear his little sleepy song? Sit down and cool off. I'll +have it ready by the time you and the boys are washed." + +Under its thick coat of tan, Martin's face went white. "I've had +enough of this," he announced levelly. "You'll put him down and +fry that meat." + +"Wait just a minute," she coaxed; "he'll be off for the night and +if you wake him, he'll cry and get all worked up." + +"You heard what I said." His tone was vibrant with determination. +"How am I going to keep hired men if you treat them like this? +When they come in to eat, they want to find their food on the +table." + +"This doesn't often happen any more and they know, good and well, +I make it up to them in other ways," returned Rose truthfully. + +For answer, he crossed over to her quickly, reached down and took +the baby from her. + +"What are you going to do with him?" she demanded, a-tremble with +rage and a sense of impotent helplessness, as, avoiding her quick +movement, Martin went into the bedroom. + +"Let him go to sleep as other children do, while you finish +getting supper. Do you want to make a sissy of him?" + +"A lot you care what he becomes!" she flashed, conflicting +impulses contending for mastery, as Billy, now thoroughly awake +and seeing his mother, began to cry, pleading to her with big +blue eyes and out-stretched arms to take him. She started +forward, but Martin stepped between herself and the crib. + +"Martin Wade, let me pass. He's mine." + +"It isn't going to hurt him to cry. He does it often enough." + +"If you had a really cross baby around you'd know how good and +reasonable Billy is," she flamed, torn by the little sobs. + +"You get out to that kitchen," he ordered, more openly angry than +Rose had ever seen him. "I've had enough of this talk, do you +hear, and enough of this way of doing. Don't you set foot in here +again till supper's over. I've had quite enough, too, of jumping +up and down to wait on myself." + +Confusedly, Rose thought of her countless hours of lost sleep, +her even yet unrecovered strength, the enormous readjustment of +her own life in her sincere efforts to do her best by the whole +household, her joyous acceptance of all the perpetual self-denial +her new duties to Billy necessitated. In comparison, the +inconveniences to which Martin had been put seemed trifling. The +occasional delays, and the unusual bother of stepping to the +stove, now and then, to pour himself and the men a hot cup of +coffee--this was their sum total. And how injured he really felt! +The injustice of it left her speechless. Nails biting into her +hands in her struggle for self-control, she left the room. With a +slam of the door behind him, Martin followed her. + +Blindly she strove for reason. Billy would simply cry himself to +sleep--it was bad for his whole nervous system, but it would not +actually make him sick. What a chaos must be in that little +heart! His mother had failed him for the first time in his life. +It was cruel, the way Martin had forced her to this, and as she +listened, for the next half hour, to the muffled sound of Billy's +crying and saw how impervious to it Martin was, she knew that +never again could things be the same between her husband and +herself. + +But when, supper over, she found the corners of the rosebud mouth +still pathetically down and Billy's breath still quivering in +long gasps, she gathered the snuggly body to her and vowed in +little broken love-words that from now on his father should have +no further opportunities for discipline. Knowing him as she did, +she should have trained the baby in the first place to go to +sleep alone, should have denied herself those added sweet +moments. After this she would be on her guard, forestall Martin, +do tenderly what he would do harshly. Never again should her boy +be made to suffer through any such mistaken selfishness of hers. + +And though, after a while, the importance of this episode shrank +to its true proportions, she never forgot or broke this promise. +It would have been literally impossible for her to touch Billy, +even when he was naughtiest and most exasperating, with other +than infinite love, but she had an even firmness of her own. As +sensitive as herself, adoring her to the point of worship, he was +easily punished by her displeasure or five minutes of enforced +quiet on a chair. The note of dread in her voice as she pleaded: +"Hush, oh, hush, Billy, be good; quick, darling, papa's coming," +was always effective. By ceaseless vigilance and indefatigable +patience, she evaded further open rupture until the boy was three +years old. + +His shrieks had brought both his father and herself flying to the +hog barn to find him dancing up and down as, frightened and +aghast, he vainly attempted to beat off old Dorcas, a mammoth +sow, from one of her day-old litter on which, having crushed it +by accident, she was now quite deliberately feasting. + +"God Almighty!" stormed Martin, hastily putting the little pigs +back into the next pen. "Who let them in to her? That's her old +trick." + +"I opened the door," confessed Billy, troubled, frank eyes +looking straight into his father's. "They were hungry; that one +wanted her most." And, at the thought of the tragedy he had +witnessed, he flung himself heartbroken into his mother's +comforting arms. + +"I'll whip you for this," said Martin sternly. + +"Oh, please!" protested Rose, gathering the child closer. "Can't +you see he's had a bitter enough lesson? His little heart is +full." + +"He's got to learn, once and for all, not to meddle with the +stock. Come here." + +"No! I won't have it. I'll see to it that he never does a thing +like this again. He's too young to understand. He's never been +struck in his life. You shan't." + +Martin's cold blue eyes looked icily into his wife's blazing gray +ones. "Don't act like a fool. Suppose he had gotten in there +himself, and had fallen down --do you think she'd have waited to +kill him? Where'd he be now--like that?" and he pointed to the +half-eaten carcass. + +Rose shuddered. There it was again--the same, familiar, disarming +plausibility of Martin's, the old trick of making her seem to be +the one in the wrong. + +"I wish I had an acre for every good thrashing I got when I was a +boy," he commented drily. "But in those days a father who +demanded obedience wasn't considered a monster." + +"If you only loved him, I wouldn't care," sobbed Rose. "I could +stand it better to have you hit him in anger, but you're so hard, +so cruel. You plan it all out so--how can you?" + +Nevertheless, with a last convulsive hug and a broken "Mother +can't help it, darling," she put Billy on his feet, her tormented +heart wrung with bitterness as Martin took the clinging child +from her and carried him away, hysterical and resisting. + +"What else could I do?" she asked herself miserably, stabbed by +the added fear that Billy might not forgive her. Could he +understand how powerless she had been? + +When once more the child was cuddled against her, she realized +that in some mystical way there was a new bond between them, and +as the days passed, she discovered it was not so much the +whipping, but the unnatural perfidy of Dorcas that had scarred +his mind. With his own eyes he had seen a mother devour her baby. +He woke from dreams of it at night. Even the sight of her in the +pasture contentedly suckling the remaining nine did not reassure +him. The modern methods of psychology were then, to such women as +Rose, a sealed book, but love and intuition taught her to apply +them. + +"You see, Billy," she explained, "hogs are meant to eat meat like +dogs or bears or tigers. But they can live on just grain and +grass, and that is what most farmers make them do because there +is so much more of it and it costs so much less. Some of them +feed what is called tankage. If old Dorcas could have had some of +that she probably would not have eaten the little pig. You +mustn't blame her too much, for she was just famishing for flesh, +the way you are, sometimes, for a drink of water, when you've +been playing hard." Thus rationalized, the old sow's conduct lost +some of its grewsomeness, and in time, of course, the shock of +the whole experience was submerged under other and newer +impressions, but always the remembrance of it floated near the +surface of his consciousness, his first outstanding memory of his +father and the farm. + +Inheriting a splendid physique from both parents, at six little +Bill was as tall as the average child of eight, well set up and +sturdy, afraid of nothing on the place except Martin, who, +resenting his attitude, not unreasonably put the blame for it on +his wife. "It's not what I do to him," he told her, "it's what +you teach him to think I might do that makes him dislike me." To +which Rose looked volumes, but made no reply. + +Whatever the reason for the child's distrust, and honestly as he +tried not to let it affect his feeling for his son, Martin found +himself as much repelled by it as he had once been drawn to +little Rose by her sweet faith and affection. Yet, in spite of +the only too slightly veiled enmity between them, he was rather +proud of the handsome lad and determined to give him a thorough +stockman's and agriculturist's training. Some day he would run +this farm, and Martin had put too much of his very blood into it +not to make sure that the hands into which it would fall became +competent. With almost impersonal approval he noticed the perfect +co-ordination of the boy's muscles, his insatiable curiosity +about machinery and his fondness for animals; all of which only +made his pronounced distaste for work just that much more +aggravating. He was, his father decided contemptuously, a +dreamer. + +Martin reached this conclusion early in his son's life--Bill was +nine--and he determined to grind the objectionable tendency out +of him. The youngster had a way of stopping for no reason +whatever and just standing there. For all his iron self-control, +it nearly drove the energetic man to violence. He would leave +Bill in the barn to shovel the manure into the litter-carrier--a +good fifteen-minute job; he would return in half an hour to find +him sitting in the alleyway, staring down into his idle scoop. + +"God Almighty!" Martin would explode. "How many times must I tell +you to do a thing?" + +The boy would look up slowly, like a frightened colt, expecting a +blow, his non-resistance as angering as his indolence. Gazing at +the enormous, imposing person who was his father, he would simply +wait with wide open eyes--eyes that reminded Martin of a calf +begging for a bucket of milk. + +"I'm asking you! Answer when I speak. Have you lost the use of +your tongue? What are you, anyway --a lump of jelly? Didn't I +tell you to clean this barn? It's fly time and no wonder the cows +suffer and slack up on their milk when there is a lazy bones like +you around who won't even help haul away the manure." + +"I was just a-goin' to." + +"You should have been through long ago. What are you good for, is +what I'd like to find out. You eat a big bellyful and what do you +give in return? Do you expect to go through the world like +this--having other people do your work for you? If this job isn't +finished in fifteen minutes, I'll whip you." + +Bill would work swiftly and painfully, for the carrier was high +and hard for him to manipulate. But he would do his best, +desperate over the threat, his whole nature rebelling, not so +much at the task, as at the interruption of the pleasant stream +of pictures which had been flowing so excitingly through his +mind. Always it was like this--just when he was most blissfully +happy, he was jerked back to some mean, dirty job by the stern, +driving demands of his tireless father. + +Without regard to the fact that harness is heavy, and a horse's +back high, Martin would order him to hitch up. He was perfectly +aware that it was too much for the child, but lack of affection, +and a vague, extenuating belief that especially trying jobs +developed one, made him merciless. The boy frequently boiled with +rage, but he was so weaponless, so completely in his father's +power--there was no escape from this tyranny. He knew he could +not live without him; even his mother could not do that. His +mother! What a sense of rest would come over him when he sat in +her capacious lap, his head on her soft shoulder. With her cheek +against his and her kind hand gently patting the back of his +still chubby one, something hard in him always melted away. + +"Why do I love you so, mama," he asked once, "and hate papa so?" + +Mrs. Wade realized what was in his sore heart and hers ached for +him, but she answered quietly: "You mustn't hate anybody, dear. +You shouldn't." + +"I don't hate anybody but him. I hate him and I'm afraid of +him--just like you are." + +"Oh, Billy," cried Rose, shocked to the quick. "You must never, +never say I hate your father--when you're older you'll +understand. He is a wonderful man." + +"He's mean," said Billy succinctly. "When I get big I'm going to +run away." + +"From me? Oh, darling, don't think such thoughts. Papa doesn't +intend to be mean. He just doesn't know what fun it is to play. +You see, dear, when he was a boy like you, he had to work, oh, +ever and ever so much more than you do--yes, he did," she nodded +solemnly at Bill's incredulous stare. "And his mother never +talked with him or held him close as I do you. She didn't have +time. Aunt Nellie has told me all about it. He just worked and +worked and worked--they all did. That's all there was in their +life--just work. Why, when he was your age, his father was at war +and papa and Grandmother Wade had to do everything. He did a +man's share at fourteen and by the time he was fifteen, he ran +this whole farm. Work has gotten to be a habit with him and it's +made him different from a great many people. But he thinks that +is why he's gone ahead and so he's trying to raise you the same +way. If he really didn't care about you, Billy, it wouldn't +bother him what you did." + +In the silence that fell they could hear old Molly bellowing with +pathetic monotony for her calf that had been taken from her. +Yesterday she had been so proud, so happy. She had had such a +hard time bringing it into the world, too. Martin had been +obliged to tie a rope to its protruding legs and pull with all +his strength. It didn't seem fair to think that the trusting-eyed +little fellow had been snatched from her so soon, as if her pain +had been an entirely negligible incident. Already, after six +short weeks, he was hanging, drawn and quartered, in one of +Fallon's meat-markets. + +"I hate this place!" burst out the boy passionately. "I hate it!" + +"All farms are cruel," agreed his mother quickly. "But I suppose +they have to be. People must have milk and they must have veal." + +At nine, though his fingers would become cramped and his wrists +would pain him, Bill had three cows to account for twice a day. +At five in the morning, he would be shaken by Martin and told to +hurry up. It would be dark when he stepped out into the chill +air, and he would draw back with a shiver. Somewhere on these six +hundred acres was the herd and it was his chore to find it and +bring it in. He would go struggling through the pasture, unable +to see twenty-five feet ahead of him, the cold dew or snow +soaking through his overalls, his shoes becoming wet. Often he +would go a mile north only to have to wander to another end of +the farm before he located them. Other times, when he was lucky, +they would be waiting within a hundred yards of the barn. Oh, how +precious the warm bed was, and how his growing body craved a few +more hours of sleep! He had a trick of pulling the sheet up over +his head, as if thus he could shut out the world, but always his +father was there to rout him out from this nest and set him none +too gently on his feet; always there was a herd to be brought in +and udders to be emptied. It made no difference to Martin that +the daily walk to and from the district school was long, and left +no spare time; it made no difference that the long hours at his +lessons left the boy longing for play--always there was the herd, +twice a day, cows and cows without end. + +At twelve, Bill was plowing behind four heavy horses. He could +run a mower, and clean a pasture of weeds in a day. He could +cultivate and handle the manure spreader. In the hot, blazing +sun, he could shock wheat behind Martin, who sat on the binder +and cut the beautiful swaying gold. There wasn't a thing he could +not do, but there was not one that he did with a willing heart. +His dreams were all of escape from this grinding, harsh farm. It +seemed to him that it was as ruthless as his father; that +everything it demanded of him was, at best, just a little beyond +his strength. If there was a lever to be pulled on the disk, very +likely it was rusted and refused to give unless he yanked until +he was short of breath and his heart beat fast; four horses were +so unruly and hard to keep in place; the gates were all so +heavy--they were not easy to lift and then drag open. It was such +a bitter struggle every step of the way. It was so hard to plow +as deeply as he was commanded. It was so wearing to make the seed +bed smooth enough to measure up to his father's standard. Never +was there a person who saw less to love about a farm than this +son of Martin's. He even ceased to take any interest in the +little colts. + +"You used to be foolish about them," Martin taunted, "cried +whenever I broke one." + +"If I don't get to liking 'em, I don't care what happens to em," +Bill answered with his father's own laconicism. + +This chicken-heartedness, as he dubbed it, disgusted Martin, who +consequently took a satisfaction in compelling the boy to assist +him actively whenever there were cattle to be dehorned, wire +rings to be pushed through bunches of pigs' snouts, calves to be +delivered by force, young stuff to be castrated or butchering to +be done. Often the sensitive lad's nerves were strained to the +breaking point by the inhuman torture he was constantly forced to +inflict upon creatures that had learned to trust him. There was a +period when it seemed to him every hour brought new horrors; with +each one, his determination strengthened to free himself as soon +as possible from this life that was one round of toil and +brutality. + +Rose gave him all the sympathy and help her great heart knew. His +rebellion had been her own, but she had allowed it to be ground +out of her, with her soul now in complete surrender. And here was +her boy going through it all over again, for himself, learning +the dull religion of toil from one of its most fanatical priests. +What if Bill, too, should finally have acquiescence to Martin +rubbed into his very marrow, should absorb his father's point of +view, grow up and run, with mechanical obedience, the farm he +abhorred? The very possibility made her shudder. If only she +could rescue him in some manner, help him to break free from this +bondage. College--that would be the open avenue. Martin would +insist upon an agricultural course, but she would use all her +tact and rally all her powers that Billy might be given the +opportunity to fit himself for some congenial occupation. Martin +might even die, and if she were to have the farm to sell and the +interest from the investments to live on, how happy she could be +with this son of hers, so like her in temperament. She caught +herself up sharply. Well, it was Martin himself who was driving +her to such thoughts. + +"You are like old Dorcas," she once told her husband, driven +desperate by the exhausted, harrowed look that was becoming +habitual in Bill's face. "You're trampling down your own flesh +and blood, that's what you're doing--eating the heart out of your +own boy." + +"Go right on," retorted Martin, all his loneliness finding vent +in his bitter sneer, "tell that to Bill. You've turned him +against me from the day he was born. A fine chance I've ever had +with my son!" + + + +VI + +DUST IN HIS EYES + +SUCH was the relationship of the Wades when one morning the mail +brought them a letter from Sharon, Illinois. Rose wrote that she +was miserably unhappy with her step-mother. Could she live with +them until she found a job? She had been to business college and +was a dandy stenographer. Maybe Uncle Martin could help her get +located in Fallon. + +"Of course I will, if she's got her head set on working," was his +comment. "I'll telegraph her to come right along. Might as well +wire the fare, too, while I'm about it and tell her to let us +know exactly when she can get here." + +Mrs. Wade looked up quickly at this unusual generosity, yet she +was, she realized, more startled than surprised. For had not +little Rose been the one creature Martin had loved and to whom he +had enjoyed giving pleasure? It had been charming--the response +of the big, aloof man to the merry child of seven, but that child +was now a woman, and, in all probability, a beautiful one. Wasn't +there danger of far more complicated emotions which might prove +even uprooting in their consequences? Mrs. Wade blushed. Really, +she chided herself sternly, she wouldn't have believed she could +be such an old goose--going out of her way to borrow trouble. If +her husband was moved to be hospitable, she ought to be wholly +glad, not petty enough to resent it. She would put such thoughts +out of her mind, indeed she would, and welcome Rose as she would +have wanted Norah to have welcomed Bill, had the circumstances +been reversed. It would be lovely to have the girl about--she +would be so much company, and the atmosphere of light-hearted +youth which she would bring with her would be just what Billy +needed. By the time Rose's answer came, saying she would arrive +in two weeks, her aunt was genuinely enthusiastic. + +"I wonder," said Martin, "if we could build on an extra room by +then. If she's going to make this her home, she can't be crowded +as if she was just here for a short visit. I'll hunt up Fletcher +this afternoon." + +Mrs. Wade's lips shut tight, as she grappled with an altogether +new kind of jealousy. To think that Martin should delight in +giving to an outsider a pleasure he had persistently denied his +own son. How often had she pleaded: "It's a shame to make Billy +sleep in the parlor! A boy ought to have one spot to himself +where he can keep his own little treasures." But always she had +been met with a plausible excuse or a direct refusal. "I suppose +I ought to be thankful someone can strike an unselfish chord in +him," she thought, wearily. + +"You'll have to get some furniture," Martin continued placidly. +"Mahogany's the thing nowadays." + +"It's fearfully expensive," she murmured. + +"Oh, I don't know. Might as well get something good while we're +buying. And while you're at it, pick out some of those curtains +that have flowers and birds on 'em and a pretty rug or two. I'll +have Fletcher put down hard oak flooring; and I guess it won't +make much more of a mess if we go ahead and connect up the house +with the rest of the Delco system." + +"It's about time," put in Bill, who had been listening +round-eyed, until now actually more than half believing his +father to be in cynical jest. "We're known all over the county as +the place that has electric lights in the barns and lamps in the +house." + +"It hasn't been convenient to do it before," was the crisp +answer. + +Bill and his mother exchanged expressive glances. When was +anything ever convenient for Martin Wade unless he were to derive +a direct, personal satisfaction from it! Then it became a horse +of quite another color. He could even become lavish; everything +must be of the best; nothing else would do; no expense, as long +as full value was received, was too great. Mrs. Wade found +herself searching her memory. She was positive that not since +those occasions upon which he had brought home the sacks of candy +for the sheer sunshine of watching little Rose's glee had +anyone's pleasure been of enough importance to him to become his +own. All this present concern for her comfort talked far more +plainly than words. + +This time, Mrs. Wade admitted bravely to herself that her +jealousy was not for Billy. It would have been far easier for her +if she had known that Martin was thinking of their coming guest +as he had last seen her thirteen years before. He realized, +thoroughly, that she must have grown up, but before his mental +eyes there still danced the roguish little girl he had held so +tenderly in his arms and had so longed to protect and cherish. + +He experienced a distinct sense of shock, therefore, when, tall, +slender and smartly dressed, Rose stepped off the train and, +throwing her arms impulsively around his neck, gave him an +affectionate kiss. The feel of those soft, warm lips lingered +strangely, setting his heart to pounding as he guided her down +the platform. + +"Uncle Martin, you haven't changed a bit!" she exclaimed +joyously. "I was wondering if I'd recognise you--imagine! +Somehow, I thought thirteen years would make a lot of difference, +but you don't look a day older." + +"You little blarney," he smiled, pleased nevertheless. "Well, +here we are," and he stopped before his fine Cadillac. + +"Oh, Uncle Martin," gasped Rose ecstatically. "What a perfectly +gorgeous car! I thought all farmers were supposed to have Fords." + +They laughed happily together. + +"It's the best in these parts," he admitted complacently. + +"It's too wonderful to think that it is really yours. Oh, Uncle +Martin, do you suppose you could ever teach me to drive it?" + +"It takes a good deal of strength to shift the gears, but you can +have a try at it anyway, tomorrow." + +"Oh-h-h!" she exulted, slipping naturally into their old +comradeship. + +Martin took her elbow as he helped her into the car. The firm +young flesh felt good--it was hard to let go. His thumb and under +finger had pressed the muscles slightly and they had moved under +his touch. His hand trembled a bit. The grace with which she +stepped up gave him another thrill. He was struck with her trim +pump, and the several inches of silk stocking that flashed before +his eyes, so unaccustomed to noticing dainty details, gave him a +mingled sensation of delight and embarrassment. It had been many +a day, many a year, since he had consciously observed his wife. +She was too useful for him to permit himself to be influenced by +questions of beauty into underrating her value, and he was a +respectable husband, if not a kind one. They had jogged on so +long together that he would have said he had ceased to be +conscious of her appearance. But suddenly he felt that he could +not continue to endure, for another day, the sight of the +spreading, flat house-slippers which, because of her two hundred +and forty pounds and frequently rheumatic feet, she wore about +her work. Moreover, it was forcibly borne in upon him just what a +source of irritation they had been. And they were only as a drop +in the bucket! Well, such thoughts did no one any good. Thank +heaven, from now on he would have Rose to look at. + +They settled down beside each other in the front seat and he was +aware that her lovely eyes, so violet-blue and ivory-white, were +studying him admiringly. Here was a man, she was deciding, who +for his age was the physical superior of any she had ever met. He +was clearly one of those whom toil did not bend, and while, she +concluded further, he might be taken for all of his fifty-four +years it would be simply because of his austere manner. + +Martin sustained her scrutiny until they were well out of Fallon +and speeding along on a good level road. Then with a teasing +"turn about's fair play," he, too, took a frank look, oddly +stirred by the sophisticated touches which added so subtly to her +natural beauty. From her soft, thick brown hair done up cleverly +in the latest mode and her narrow eyebrows arched, oh, so +carefully, and penciled with such skill, to that same trim +provocative pump and disconcerting flash of silk-clad ankle, Rose +had dash. Hers was that gift of style which is as unmistakable as +the gift of song and which, like it, is sometimes to be found +unexpectedly in any village or small town. + +Martin drank in every detail wonderingly, with a kind of awe. All +his life, it seemed to him, for the last thirteen years +positively, he had known that somewhere there must be just such a +woman whose radiance would set his heart beating with the rapture +of this moment and whose moods would blend so easily with his own +that she would seem like a very part of himself. And here she +was, come true, sitting right beside him in his own car. For the +first time in his whole life, Martin understood the meaning of +the word happiness. It gripped and shook him and made his heart +ache with a delicious pain. + +"It's hard to believe," he murmured, "such a very small girl went +away and such a very grown up little woman has come back. Let's +see--twenty is it? My, you make me feel old--but you say I +haven't changed much." + +"You haven't. A little bit of gray, a number of tiny wrinkles +about your eyes"--the tips of two dainty fingers touched them +lightly--"and you're a bit thinner--that's all. Why you look so +good to me, Uncle Martin, I could fall in love with you myself, +if you weren't auntie's husband." + +It was an innocent remark, and he understood it as such, but its +effect on him was dynamic. + +"You always were as pretty as a picture," he said slowly, his +nerves tingling, "if a farmer's opinion is worth anything in that +line." + +This was twaddle, of course, and Martin knew it. Rather it was +the city person's point of view he was inclined to belittle. He +had the confidence in his superiority that comes from complete +economic security and his pride of place was even more deeply +rooted. Men of Martin's class who are able to gaze, in at least +one direction, as far as eye can see over their own land, are +shrewd, sharp, intelligent, and far better informed on current +events and phases of thought than the people of commercial +centers even imagine. There is nothing of the peasant about them. +Martin knew quite well that dressed in his best clothes and put +among a crowd of strange business men he would be taken for one +of their own--so easy was his bearing, so naturally correct his +speech. + +Something of all this had already registered in Rose's mind. +"Come on, Uncle Martin," she laughed, "flatter me. I just love +it!" + +"Very well, then, I'll say that you've come back as pretty a +little woman as ever I've laid eyes on." + +"Is that all? Oh, Uncle Martin, just pretty? The boys usually say +I'm beautiful." + +"You are beautiful--as beautiful as a rose. That's what you are, +a red, red rose of Sharon--with your dove's eyes, your little +white teeth like a flock of even sheep and your sweet, pretty +lips like a thread of scarlet." + +"Why, Uncle Martin!" exclaimed the girl, a trifle puzzled by the +intensity of his quiet tone, and stressing their relationship +ever so lightly. "You're almost a poet." + +"You mean old King Solomon was," he retrieved himself quickly. +"Don't you ever read the Bible?" + +"I didn't know you did!" + +"Oh, your old Uncle reads a little of everything," he returned +with a reassuring commonplaceness of manner. He was thunderstruck +at his outburst. Never had he had occasion to talk in that vein. +He remembered how blunt he had been with the older Rose twenty +years before--how he had jumped to the point at the start and +landed safely; clinched his wooing, as he had since realized, by +calling her his Rose of Sharon, and now he was saying the same +thing over again, but, oh, how differently. If only he were +thirty-four today, and unmarried! + +"You always were the most wonderful person," beamed Rose, +completely at her ease once more, "I used to simply adore you, +and I'm beginning to adore you again." + +"That's because you don't know what a glum old grouch I really +am." + +"You--a grouch? Oh, Uncle Martin!" Her merry, infectious laugh +left no doubt of how ridiculous such a notion seemed. + +"Oh, yes; I am." + +"Nonsense. You'll have to prove it to me." + +"Ask your aunt or Bill; they'll tell you." The acrimony in his +tone did not escape her. + +"Then they'll have to prove it to me," she corrected, her gaiety +now a trifle forced. Aunt Rose never had appreciated him, was her +quick thought. Even as a child she had sensed that. + +"How are they?" she added quickly. "Bill must be a great boy by +this time." + +"Only a few inches shorter than I am," Martin answered +indifferently. "He's one of the kind who get their growth +early--by the time he's fifteen he'll be six feet." + +"I'm crazy to see them." + +"Well, there's your aunt now," he resumed drily as they drew up +before the little house that contrasted so conspicuously with the +fine brick silos and imposing barns. Gleaming with windows, they +loomed out of the twilight, reminding one, in their slate-colored +paint, of magnificent battleships. + +The bright glare of the auto picked Mrs. Wade out for them as +mercilessly as a searchlight. Where she had been stout thirteen +years before, she was now frankly fat. Four keen eyes noted the +soft, cushiony double chin, the heavy breasts, ample stomach, +spreading hips, and thick shoulders, rounded from many years of +bending over her kitchen table. Kansas wind, Kansas well-water +and Kansas sun had played their usual havoc, giving her skin the +dull sand color so common in the Sunflower State. She had come +from her cooking and she was hot, beads of sweat trickling from +the deep folds of her neck. Withal, there was something so +comfortable and motherly about her, the kind, wise eyes behind +the gold-rimmed glasses were so misty with welcome and unspoken +thoughts of the dear mother Rose had lost, that the girl went out +to her sincerely even as she marvelled that the same years on the +same farm which had given one person added polish and had made +him even more good looking than ever, could have changed another +so completely and turned her into such a toil-scarred, frumpy, +oldish woman. Why, when she had been talking with Uncle Martin he +had seemed no older than herself--well, not quite that, of +course, but she had just forgotten about his age +altogether--until she saw Aunt Rose. No wonder whenever he spoke +of his wife every intonation told how little he loved her. How +could he care any more--that way? + +Rose's first look of astonishment and her darting glance in his +own direction were not lost on Martin. With an imperceptible +smile, he accepted the unintended compliment, but he felt a pang +when he noticed that to her Aunt went the same affectionate, +impetuous embrace that she had given to him at the station. + +"You're losing your head," he told himself sternly, driving into +the garage, where, stopping his engine, he continued to sit +motionless at the wheel. "That ought to be a lesson to you; she's +just naturally warm-hearted and loving. Always was. You're no +more to her than anybody else. Well, there's no fool like an old +fool." Yet, deeper than his admitted thought was the positive +conviction that already something was up between them. If not, +why this excitement and wild happiness? To be sure, nothing had +been said--really. It had all been so light. Rose was just a bit +of a born flirt. But he, having laughed at love all his life, +loved her deeply, desperately. Well, so much the worse for +himself--it couldn't lead anywhere. Yet in spite of all his logic +he knew that something was going to happen. Hang it all--just +what? He was afraid to answer his own question; not because of +any dread of what his wife might do--he was conscious only of a +new, cold, impersonal hatred toward her because she stood between +him and his Rose; nor was it qualms about his ability to win the +girl's heart. Already, despite his inexperience with love +technique, he was, in some mysterious manner, making progress. +The community --his position in it? This was food for thought +certainly, but it was not what worried him. Then why this feeling +of dismay when he wanted to be only glad? + +The question was still unanswered when he finally left the +garage. With all his powers of introspection, he had not yet +fathomed the fact that it was a fear of his own, until now +utterly unsuspected, capacity for recklessness. Heretofore, he +had been able to count on the certainty that his best judgment +would govern all his actions. Now, he felt himself clutching, +almost frantically, at the hard sense of proportion that never +before had so much as threatened to desert him. He went about his +chores in a grave, automatic way, absorbed in anything but +agriculture. Hardly ever did he pass through his barn without +paying homage to his own progressiveness and oozing approval of +the mechanical milker, driven by his own electrical dynamo, the +James Way stanchions with electric lights above, the individual +drinking fountains at the head of each cow, the cork-brick +floors, the scrupulously white-washed walls, and the absence of +odor, with the one exception of sweet, fermented silage. But, +tonight, he was not seeing these symbols of material superiority. +Instead he was thinking of a girl with eyes as soft as a dove's, +lips like a thread of scarlet and small white teeth as even as a +flock of his own Shropshire sheep. What else did that old King +Solomon say? God Almighty, he thought, there was a man who +understood! He'd try to get a chance to reread that Song of Songs +that was breaking his own heart with its joy and its sadness. + +His reverie was broken abruptly by the jangling supper-bell. When +he reached the back door Bill was already at the table and Rose, +in a simple gown that brought out the appealing lines of her slim +young body, was deftly helping his wife in the final dishing up. +As Martin stood a moment, looking in at the bright scene and +listening to the happy chatter, he heard her ask if he had got +her a job. At sight of him she cried excitedly: "Oh, Uncle +Martin! You can't think how I adore my beautiful room! And Bill +says it was you who first thought of building it for me. You old +darling! You and Aunt Rose are the best people in the whole wide +world. How can I ever thank you?" + +"I'll tell you," he smiled, "forget all about that job and just +stay around here and make us all young. Time enough to work when +you have to." + +Mrs. Wade noticed how Bill's eyes widened at these words, so +unlike his father, and soon she was acutely aware of her +husband's marked agreeableness whenever he directed his +conversation toward Rose. He even tried to include his son and +herself in this new atmosphere, but with each remark in their +direction his manner changed subtly. Toward herself, in +particular, his feelings were too deep for him to succeed in +belying them. + +As the meal progressed, she realized that her dim forebodings +were fast materializing into a certain danger. Unless she acted +promptly this slip of a girl was going to affect, fundamentally, +all their lives. Already, it seemed as though she had been +amongst them a long time and had colored the future of them all. +Mrs. Wade understood far better than her husband would have +supposed that, in his own way, his married life had been as +starved as her own; oh, far more so, for she had her boy. And +while it was not at all likely, it was not wholly impossible that +he might seek a readjustment. It seemed far-fetched for her to +sit thus and feel that drama was entering their hard lives when +nothing had really happened, but nevertheless--she knew. As, +outwardly so calm, she speculated with tumbled thoughts on how it +might end, she tried to analyze why it was that the prospect of a +shake-up filled her with such a sense of disaster. Surely, it was +not because of any reluctance to separate from Martin. Her life +would be far easier if they went their own ways. With Bill, she +could make a home anywhere, one that was far more real, in a +house from which broken promises did not sound as from a trumpet. +Ashes of resentment still smouldered against Martin because of +that failure of his to play fair. She recalled the years during +which she had helped him to earn with never an unexpected +pleasure; reflected with bitterness that never, since they had +cast their lives together, had he urged her to indulge in any +sweet little extravagance, though he had denied himself nothing +that he really wished. It was no riddle to her, as it had been to +her niece earlier in the evening, why the same hard work had +dealt so benignly with Martin and so uncharitably with herself. +She comprehended only too well that it was not that alone which +had crushed her. It was his ceaseless domination over her, the +utter subjugation of her will, her complete lack of freedom. She +glanced across the table at him, astounded by his hearty laugh in +response to one of Rose's sallies. It seemed incredible that it +could be really Martin's. It had such a ring and came out so +easily as if he were more inclined to merriment than to silence. +Usually, he seemed made of long strips of thin steel, but under +the inspiration of Rose's presence he had become animated, brisk, +interesting. No wonder she was being drawn to him. + +It was as if he had withheld from his wife a secret alchemy that +had kept him handsome and attractive, as compelling as when he +had come in search of herself so long ago. And now that the last +vestige of her own bloom was gone, he was laughing at her, +inwardly, as a cunning person does who plays a malicious trick on +a simpler, more trusting, soul. Only it had taken twenty years to +spring the point of this one. Hatred welled in her heart; a sad, +weary hatred that knew no tears. She wished that she might hurt +him as he had hurt her. Yet, with her usual honesty, she +presently admitted how easy it would be for this malevolence to +melt away--a word, a look, a gesture from Martin and the heart in +her would flood with forgiveness; but the look did not come, the +word was unuttered. + +He was squandering, she continued to observe, sufficient evidence +of his interest at the feet of this child who never would have +missed it, while she, herself, who could have lifted mountains +from her breast with one tenth of this appreciation, was left, as +she always had been left, without the love her being craved, the +love of a mate, rising full and strong to meet her own. It was a +yearning that the most cherished of children could never satisfy +and as she watched Martin and Rose her position seemed to her to +be that of a hungry pauper, brought to the table of a rich +gourmand, there to look on helplessly while the other toyed +carelessly with the precious morsels of which she was in such +extreme need. And what rankled was that these thoughts were +futile, that too much water had run under the bridge, that it was +her lot in Martin's life merely to accept what was offered her. +She knew that the marks of her many hours of suppressed anguish, +thousands of days of toil and long series of disappointments were +thick upon her. She realized, too, how ironical it was that with +all her work she should have grown to be so ungainly although +Martin retained the old magnetism of his gorgeous physique. There +was no doubt that if he chose, he could still hold a woman's +devotion. Yes, for him there was an open road from this gray +monotony, if he had the will and the courage to escape. + +Suddenly, she found herself wondering what effect all this would +have on Bill. She stole a surreptitious glance at him, but he, +too, seemed to have been caught up by Rose's gay, good humor. +Mrs. Wade sighed as she remembered how everyone had flocked +around Norah. Rose had inherited her mother's charm. Such women +were a race apart. They could no more be held responsible for +trying to please than a flower for exhaling its fragrance. At +what a lovely moment of life she was! Small wonder that Martin +was captivated, but not even the shadow of harm must fall on that +fresh young spirit while she was under their roof. If things went +much further she would have it out with him. And this decision +reached, Mrs. Wade felt her usual composure gradually return, nor +did it again desert her during the long evening through which it +seemed to her as if her husband must be some stranger. + + + +VII + +MARTIN BATTLES WITH DUST + +THE human animal is a strange spectacle to behold, let alone +comprehend. Not infrequently he goes along for years developing a +state of mind, a consistent attitude, and then having got it +thoroughly established does something in distinct contradiction +to it. Martin had never cared for music, but when one evening, a +little more than a week after Rose's arrival, she suggested, with +a laughing lilt, her fondness for it, he agreed that he had +missed it in his home and, to Bill's and Mrs. Wade's unbelieving +surprise, dwelt at length upon his enjoyment of Fallon's band and +his longing to blow a cornet. A little later, finding an excuse +to leave, he drove into town on a mission so foreign to his +iron-clad character that it seemed to cry against his every +instinct, but which, for all that, he did with such simplicity as +to indicate that it was the most natural step imaginable. He +actually bought a two-hundred-dollar mahogany Victrola and an +assortment of records, bringing both home with him in his car +and, assisted eagerly by Bill, carrying them into the front room +with an air that said it was a purchase he had been intending to +make for a long time. Rose rewarded him with her bubbling delight +and her aunt noticed with an odd constriction about her heart how +Bill revelled at last in the new treasure, until now so +hopelessly coveted. Martin had never shone to better advantage +than this evening as he helped select and put on different +pieces, lending himself to the mood of each. It was while a +foot-stirring dance was on that Rose asked suddenly: + +"Oh, Uncle Martin, do you know how?" + +He shook his head. "You'll have to teach me to square up for +learning to drive the car." + +"That's a bargain; and I'll teach Bill too," she added with +native tact. But Mrs. Wade, ill at ease in her own parlor, caught +the afterthought quality of Rose's tone. There was no question +but that it was for Martin she sparkled, sweet and spontaneous as +she was. Decidedly, the time had come when definite action should +not be delayed. + +It was nearly twelve o'clock when they finally broke up and +husband and wife found themselves alone in their own room. As +they undressed, Mrs. Wade acted nervously, confused as to how to +begin, while Martin whistled lightly and kept time by a slight +bobbing of his head. She shot a meaning look in his direction. + +"You seem happy, don't you?" + +He stopped whistling instantly and assumed his more normal look +of set sternness. This was the man she knew and she preferred him +that way, rather than buoyant because of some other woman, even +though that other was as lovable and innocent of any deliberate +mischief as her niece. Not that she was jealous so much as she +was hurt. When a woman has fortified herself, after years of the +existence to which Mrs. Wade had submitted, with the final +conviction that undoubtedly her husband's is a nature that cannot +be other than it is, and then learns there are emotional +potentialities not yet plumbed, not to mention a capacity for +pleasant comradeship of which he has never vouchsafed her an +inkling, she finds herself being ground between the millstones of +an aching admission of her own deficiencies and a tattered, but +rebellious, pride. + +Martin, when her remark concerning his apparent happiness had +registered, let his answer be a sober inspection of the garment +he had just removed. + +"I don't suppose you can talk to me now after such a strenuous +evening," she went on more emphatically. And as he maintained his +silence, she continued with: "Oh, don't think I'm blind, Martin +Wade. I know exactly how far this has gone and I know how far it +can go." + +"What are you driving at?" + +"You know perfectly well what I mean--the way you are behaving +toward Rose." + +"Are you trying to imply that I'm carrying on with her?" + +"I certainly am. I'm not angry, Martin. I never was calmer than I +am right now, and I don't intend to say things just for the sake +of saying them. I only want you to know that I have eyes, and +that I don't want to be made a fool of." + +To her surprise, Martin came over to her and, looking at her +steadily, returned with amazing candidness: "I'm not going to lie +to you. You're perfectly welcome to know what's in my mind. I +love her with every beat of my heart--she has brought something +new into my life, something sacred--you've always thought I cared +for nothing but work, that all I lived for was to plan and scheme +how to make money. Haven't you? I don't blame you. It's what I've +always believed, but tonight I've learned something." Mrs. Wade +could see his blood quicken. "She has been in this house only a +few days and already I am alive with a new fire. It seems as if +these hours are the only ones in which I have ever really +lived--nothing else matters. Nothing! If there could be the +slightest chance of my winning her love, of making her feel as I +am feeling now, I'd build my world over again even if I had to +tear all of the old one down." Martin was now talking to himself, +oblivious to his wife's presence, indifferent to her. "Happiness +is waiting for me with her, with my little flower." + +"Your Rose of Sharon?" Her tone was biting. + +"If only I could say that! My Rose of Sharon!" It seemed to Mrs. +Wade that the very room quivered with his low cry that was almost +a groan. "I know what you're thinking," he went on, "but you know +I have never loved you. You knew it when I married you, you must +have." The twisting agony of it--that he could make capital out +of the very crux of all her suffering. "I have never deceived you +and I never intend to. My life with you hasn't been a Song of +Solomon, but I'm not complaining." + +"You're not complaining! I hope I won't start complaining, +Martin." + +"Well, now you know how I feel. I'll go on with the present +arrangement between us, but I'm playing square with you--it's +because there's no hope for me. If I thought she cared for me, I +would go to her, right now, tonight, and pour out my heart to +her, wife or no wife. Oh, Rose, have pity! It can't do you any +harm if I drink a little joy--don't spoil her faith in me! Don't +frighten her away. I can't bear the thought of her going out into +the world to work. She's like a gentle little doe feeding on +lilies--she doesn't dream of the pitfalls ahead of her. And she +will never know--she doesn't even suspect how I feel towards her. +She will meet some young fellow in town and marry. I'm too old +for her--but Rose, you don't understand what it means to me to +have her in the same house, to know that she is sleeping so near, +so beautiful, so ready for love; that when I wake up tomorrow she +will still be here." + +Disarmed and partly appeased by the frankness of his confession, +Mrs. Wade sat silently taking in each word, studying him with wet +eyes, her lips almost blue, her breath a little short. The fire +in his voice, the reality of his strange, terrible love, the eyes +that gazed so sadly and so unexpectantly into space, the hands +that seemed to have shed their weight of toil and clutched, too +late, for the bright flowers of happiness--all filled her with +compassion. Never had he looked so splendid. He seemed, in +casting off his thongs, to have taken on some of the Herculean +quality of his own magnificent gesture. It was as if their +barnyard well had burst into a mighty, high-shooting geyser. To +her dying day would she remember that surge of passion. To have +met it with anger would have been of as little avail as the stamp +of a protesting foot before the tremors of an earthquake. + +She offered him the comforting directness which she might have +given Bill. "I didn't know you felt so deeply, Martin. Life plays +us all tricks; it's played many with me, and it's playing one of +its meanest with you, for whatever happens you are going to +suffer--far more than I am. You can believe it or not, but I'm +sorry." + +Martin felt oddly grateful to her; he had not expected this sense +of understanding. She might have burst into wild tears. Instead, +she was pitying him. More possessed of his usual immobility, he +remarked: + +"I must be a fool, a great, pathetic fool. I look into a girl's +eyes and immediately see visions. I say a few words to her and +she is kind enough to say a few to me and I see pictures of new +happiness. I should have more sense. I don't know what is the +matter with me." + +Although countless answers leaped to his wife's tongue she made +none but the cryptic: "Well, it's no use to discuss it any more +tonight. We both need rest." But all the while that she was +undressing with her usual sure, swift movements, and after she +had finally slipped between the sheets, her mind was racing. + +She was soon borne so completely out on the current of her own +thoughts that she forgot Martin's actual presence. She remembered +as if it were yesterday, the afternoon he came to the office and +asked her to marry him. She wondered anew, as she had wondered a +thousand times, if anything other than a wish for a housekeeper +had prompted him. She remembered her misgivings--how she had read +into him qualities which she had believed all these years were +not there. But hadn't her intuition been justified, after all, by +the very man she had seen tonight? Yes, her first feeling, that +he was something finer, still in the rough, had been correct. She +had thought it was his shyness, his unaccustomedness to women +that had made him such a failure as a lover--and all the while it +had been simply that she was not the right woman. When love +touched him, he became a veritable white light. + +All these years when he had been so cold, so hard toward her, it +simply was because he disliked her. She remembered the day she +was hurt, and the night her first baby came. Martin's brutality +even now kindled in her a dull blazing anger, and as she realized +what depths of feeling were in him, his callousness seemed +intensified an hundred-fold. Well, she was having her revenge. +All his life he had thwarted her, stolen from her, used her as +one could not use even a hired hand, worked her more as a +slave-driver hurries his underlings that profits may mount; now, +by her mere existence, she was thwarting him. She saw him again +as he had flashed before her when he had talked of Rose and she +admitted bitterly to herself, what in her heart she had known all +along--that if Martin could have loved her, she could have +worshipped him. Instead, he had slowly smothered her, but she had +at least a dignity in the community. He should not harm that. If +they were unhappy, at least no one knew it. Her pride was her +refuge. If that were violated she felt life would hold no +sanctuary, that her soul would be stripped naked before the +world. + +But why was she afraid? Didn't Martin have his own position to +think of? What if he had said nothing was to be compared to his +new-found love for Rose. What stupidity on his part not to +realize that it was his very position, power and money that +commanded her respect. Did he command anything else from her? +Mrs. Wade reviewed the evening. Yes, response had been in Rose's +laugh, in every movement. Hadn't she always adored Martin, even +as a tiny girl? Hadn't there always been some mystic bond between +them? How she had envied them then. But if Martin were to go to +her with only his love? From the depths of her observations of +people she took comfort. He might stir his lovely Rose of Sharon +to the uttermost, had he been free he might have won her for his +wife--but would it be possible for fifty-four to hold the +attention of twenty for long if he had nothing but his love to +offer? + +Such thoughts were hurrying through her heated mind as Martin +slowly laid himself beside her. He said nothing, but lost himself +in a flood of ceaseless ponderings. After stretching some of the +tiredness out of his throbbing muscles, he relaxed and lay +quietly, trying to recall exactly what he had said. Did his wife +suspect that there might be no truth in the remark that Rose +would never know how he felt toward her? At moments he felt that +the girl already divined it, again he was not so sure. It was +hard to be certain, but the more he thought about it the more +hope he began to feel that she would yet be wholly his. Her +admiration and trust belonged to him now, but there might be +moral scruples which he would have to overcome. There would be +the difficulty of convincing her that she would be doing her aunt +no wrong. She would gain courage, however, from his own +heedlessness. That same daring which he had just shown with the +older Rose and which had impressed her into silence would +eventually move his flower to him. He had thrown down the bars. +Secrecy was now out of the question and it was well that he was +moving thus in the open. Rose might shrink at first from the +plain-spokenness of the situation, but this phase would soon pass +and then the fact that she knew he was not hiding his love for +her even from his wife would make it far easier to press his suit +and possibly to bring it to a swift consummation. + +He must win her! He must. He had been mad to admit to himself, +much less to his Rag-weed, that there was any doubt of this +outcome. It might take a few more days, a week, not longer than +that. But what should he do when Rose gave the message to him? +Could he go away with her? This bothered him for a while. Of +course, he would have to. He could not send his wife away. The +community would not tolerate this. Martin knew his neighbors. He +did not care a snap for their good opinion, but he realized +exactly how much they could hurt him if he violated their +prejudices beyond a certain point. Fortunately, there are +millions of communities in the world. This one would rise against +him and denounce, another would accept them as pleasant +strangers. He might be taken for Rose's father! He would fight +this with tireless care. Yes, he would have to go away. But his +business interests --what about his farm, his cattle, his +machinery, his bank stock, his mortgages, his municipal bonds? +How wonderful it would be if he could go with her to the +station--his securities in a grip, his other possessions turned +into a bank draft! But this woman lying at his side--the law gave +her such a large share. + +Cataclysmic changes were taking place in the soul of Martin Wade. +The very thing which, without being able to name, he had dreaded +a short week ago in the garage, was hovering over him, casting +its foreboding shadow of material destruction. His whole system +of values was being upset. He felt an actual revulsion against +property. What was it all compared to his Rose? He would throw it +at his wife's feet--his wife's feet and Bill's. Let them take +every penny of it--no, not every penny. He would need a +little--just a thousand or two to start with and then the rest +would come easily, for he knew how to make money. And how liberal +that would be. + +He could see himself as he would go forth with Rose, leaving +behind the woman he had never loved and all that he had toiled so +many years to amass. It seemed fair--the property for which he +had lusted so mercilessly left for the woman with whom he had +lived so dully, left as the ransom to be paid for his liberty. So +he and his Rose of Sharon would walk away--walk, because even the +car would be surrendered--and he would be free with the only +woman for whom he had ever yearned. + +Would she be happy for long? His pride answered "yes," but +against his will he pictured himself being dumped ruthlessly into +the pitiless sixties while Rose still lingered in the glorious +twenties. This was a most unpleasant reflection and Martin +preferred to dismiss it. That belonged to tomorrow. He would wait +until then to fight tomorrow's battles. His mind came back to the +property again. Wasn't it rather impetuous to surrender all? +Wouldn't it be unfair to Rose to be so generous to his wife? She +had Bill. In a few years he would be old enough to run the farm. +Until then, with his help and good hired hands, she could do it +herself. Why not leave it and the goods on it to her and take the +mortgages and bonds with him? Rose was joy. He could hold her +more securely with comforts added to his great love. Her +happiness had to be thought of, had to be protected. + +He could tell that his wife was still awake. He might begin to +talk and maybe they could arrange a settlement. But he was +getting too tired for a discussion that might invite tears and +even a fit of hysterics, like the one she had gone through before +their first child came dead. He could see her still as she looked +that morning in the barn crying: "You'll be punished for this +some day--you will--you will. You don't love me, but some time +you will love some one. Then you'll understand what it is to be +treated like this--" It gave him the creeps now to remember it. +It was like one of those old incantations; almost like a curse. +What if some day his Rose should grow to be as indifferent, feel +as little tenderness toward him as he had felt toward his wife at +that moment. The pain of it made him break out into a fine sweat. +But he hadn't understood. What had he understood until this love +had come into his life! He would never do a thing as cruel as +that now. Come to think of it, the older Rose wasn't acting like +a bad sort. But then, when it came to a show-down she might not +be so magnanimous as she had appeared tonight. + +Mrs. Wade was still thinking. She also was measuring +possibilities and clairvoyantly sensing what was going on in her +husband's mind. She, too, was sure that Rose would capitulate to +him. She felt a deep sympathy for the girl. Martin had said it +himself--he was too old for her. Her happiness lay with youth. +And yet, how could one be so certain? Love was so illusive, so +capricious! Did it really bow to the accident of years? Had she, +Rose Wade, the right to snatch from anyone's hands the most +precious gift of life? Wouldn't she have sold her very soul, at +one time, to have had Martin care for her like this? Oh, if the +child were wise she would not hesitate! She would drink her cup +of joy while it was held out to her brimming full. A strange +conclusion for a staid churchwoman like Mrs. Wade, but her rich +humanity transcended all her training. She wondered if there +could be anything in the belief that there was waiting somewhere +for each soul just one other. There were people, she knew, who +thought that. Rose had drawn out all that was finest in +Martin--she had transformed him into a lover, and if she wanted +the man, himself, she could have him. But, decided his wife, he +could not take with him the things which her sweat and blood had +helped to create. She would give him a divorce, but her terms +would be as brutal as the Martin with whom she had lived these +twenty years, and who now took it for granted that she would let +him do whatever he chose. She was to be made to step aside, was +she, with no weapon with which to strike back and no armor with +which to protect herself? Well, there was one way she might hit +him --one. She would strike him in his weakest point --his +belongings. Yes, Martin Wade might leave her but all his property +must be left behind--every cent of it. There should be a contract +to that effect; otherwise, she would fight as only a frenzied +woman can fight. + +The two of them, lying there side by side as quietly as if in +death, each considered the issue settled. She would let him go +without his property; Martin would leave with half of it. And +through all the long wordless controversy, their little Rose of +Sharon, a few yards away, slept as only a tired child can sleep. + + + +VIII + +THE DUST SMOTHERS + +WHEN Martin opened his eyes, next morning, he realized with a +start that he had overslept, which was a new experience for one +whose life had been devoted so consistently to hard toil; and he +saw with a sharper start, that his wife, who always got up about +a half hour earlier than himself, was not even yet awake. He +wondered what had come over him that he should have committed +such a sin, and as his tired mind opened one of its doors and let +the confused impressions flutter out, he countenanced a luxury as +unusual as the impulse that had sent him townward the evening +before to bring home the Victrola. Instead of jumping out hastily +so that he might attend to his hungry, bellowing stock, he lay +quietly marshalling the new incidents of his life into a parade +which he ordered to march across the low ceiling. + +He could not comprehend what the tornado had been about. There +had been so little on which to base the excitement--so little +that he was puzzled as to what had caused the scene with his +wife. And as he reflected, it seemed highly unlikely to him that +he would ever permit himself to do anything that might jeopardize +his whole life, topple over the structure that decades of work +had built. Why, it was scarcely less than suicidal to let a +stranger come into his heart and maybe weaken his position. He +remembered his last thought before falling asleep. It appeared +unutterably rash, though when hit upon, it had been a decision +that moderated a more extreme action. Now he realized that it was +the very acme of foolishness deliberately to sacrifice half his +fortune, especially the farm itself, to which he had given so +many years of complete concentration. Certainly, if Rose were +ready to be his, he might not hesitate even a second; but this +flower was still to be won by him, and this morning, aware of +what scant grounds he had upon which to venture any forecasts, he +felt as full of doubt as he had been of confidence last night. It +had been a saddening experience, but fortunate, for all that, +inasmuch as nothing serious had come of it, except that he was +greatly sobered. Martin could not understand that mysterious +something which had risen up in his nature and threatened to +wreck a carefully-built life. It was his first meeting with the +little demon that rebels in a man after he thinks his character +and his reactions thoroughly established, and he shuddered as he +realized how close the strange imp had pulled him to the +precipice. Yesterday, that precipice had seemed a new paradise; +now it was a yawning chasm --and he drew back, frightened. + +Cows, horses, sheep, pigs, chickens, turkeys, dogs, barn +cats--all do not remain patient while the man who owns them lies +in bed dreaming dreams. They wait a while and then get nervous. +The many messages for food which they sent to Martin forced him +to spring out of bed and hurry to them, for nothing is as +unbearably insistent as a barn and yard full of living things +clamoring their determination to have something to eat. As Martin +ran to stop the bedlam, he saw the world as an enormous, empty +stomach, at the opening of which he stood, hurling in the feed as +fast as his muscles would permit. It was all there was to +farming--raising crops and then shovelling the hay and the grain +into these stomachs. Martin stood back a few feet and with loving +eyes watched his animals enjoy their food. Here were the +creatures he loved. The fine herd of Holstein cows--their big +eyes looked at him with such trust! And their black and white +markings--so spick and span with shininess because he threw salt +on them that each cow might lick the other clean--their heavy +milk veins, great udders, and backs as straight as a die--all +appealed to his sense of the beautiful. "God Almighty!" he +thought, "but they're wonders! There's none like them west of +Chicago." The mule colts, so huge and handsome, and oh, so +knowing! made him chuckle his pride and satisfaction in a +muttered: "Man's creation, are you, you fine young devils? Well, +you're a credit, the lot of you, to whoever deserves it." His +eyes wandered over the rest of his stock, swept his wide realm. +It was all a very part of himself. Yes, here was his life--here +was his world. It would be the height of folly to leave it. + +At breakfast, his wife ate sullenly, refusing to be drawn into +the conversation, but by a wise compression of her lips and a +flicker of amusement in her eyes, which seemed to say: "Oh, if +only you could see how absurd you appear," she contrived very +cleverly to render Martin miserably self-conscious. Hampered by +this new and unexpected feeling, his attempts to be pleasant fell +flat and he lapsed into his old grimness, while Rose, eating +quickly, confined her remarks to her determination to go to town +in search of a job. Had Martin not talked as he had to his wife +he would have been able, undoubtedly, to disregard her and to +continue the line of chatter which he had hit upon so happily and +which he had never suspected was in him. But the fact, not so +much that she knew, but that from this vantage point of knowledge +she was ridiculing him, was too much for even his +self-possession. It made the light banter impossible. Especially, +as there was no doubt that Rose did not seem anxious for it. + +For Martin had not been the only member of that household who had +held early communion with himself. The girl had sat long and +dreamily at her dressing table--the dainty one of rich, dark +mahogany that Uncle Martin's thoughtfulness had provided. It +seemed unbelievable, but there was no use pretending she was +mistaken--Uncle Martin, Aunt Rose's husband, was falling in love +with her. She felt a little heady with the excitement of it. He +was so different from the callow youths and dapper fellows who +had heretofore worshipped at her shrine. There was something so +imposing, so important about him. She was conscious that a man so +much older might not appeal to many girls of her age, but it so +happened that he did appeal to her. She would be able to have +everything she wished, too--didn't she know how good, how kind, +how tender he could be. And her heart yearned toward him--he was +so clearly misunderstood, unhappy. But what about Aunt Rose? +Well, then, why had she let herself get to be so ugly? She looked +as if the greases of her own kitchen stove had cooked into her +skin, thought the girl, mercilessly. Didn't she know there was +such a thing as a powder puff? Women like that brought their own +troubles upon themselves, that's what they did. And she was an +old prude, too. Anyone could see with half an eye that she didn't +like the idea of Uncle Martin learning to dance--why, she didn't +even like his getting the Victrola--when it was just what both he +and Bill had been wanting. But for all that she was her aunt, her +own mother's sister and, poor dear, she was a good soul. It would +probably upset her awfully and besides, oh well, it just wasn't +right. + +Before her mirror Rose blushed furiously, quite ashamed of the +light way in which she had been leading Uncle Martin on. "But I +haven't said one solitary thing auntie couldn't have heard," she +justified herself. Oh, well, no harm had been done. But she +mustn't stay here, that was certain. She wouldn't say so, or hurt +their feelings, for she wanted to be on the best of terms with +them always, but she would stop flirting with Uncle Martin and +just turn him back into a dear good friend. She hoped she was +clever enough to do that much. And the dark-brown curls received +a brushing that left no doubt of the vigor of her decisions. + +She insisted that she go to Fallon that morning. + +"I've been here eight whole days, Uncle Martin," she announced +firmly, "eight whole days and haven't tried to get a thing. It's +terrible, isn't it, Aunt Rose, how lazy I am. I'm going to have +Bill take me in right straight after breakfast." + +"If you're so set on it, I'll see about your position this +afternoon," conceded Martin reluctantly. "We'll drive in in the +car." + +"Oh, Uncle Martin," she coaxed innocently, "let me try my luck +alone first. Bill can tell me who the different men are and if I +know he's waiting for me outside in the buggy, it will keep me +from being scared." And her young cousin, only too pleased with +the proposed arrangement, chimed in with: "That's the stuff, +Rose. Folks have got to go it on their own, to get anywhere." + +By evening she had a position in an insurance agent's office with +wages upon which she could live with fair decency. As it had +rained all day and her employer wanted her to begin the next +morning, she had the best possible excuse for renting a room in +Fallon and asking Bill to ride in horseback with some things +which she would ask Aunt Rose, over the telephone, to pack. It +rained all the next day, too, and Sunday, when she met Mrs. Wade +and Bill at church, she told them she had some extra typing she +had promised to do by Monday. "No, auntie" this week it is really +and truly just impossible, but next week--honest and true!" she +insisted as the older woman seconded rather impersonally her +son's urgent invitation to chicken and noodles. + +Soon winter was upon them in good earnest, and Rose's visits +"home," as she always called it, were naturally infrequent. By +Christmas time, she was receiving attentions from Frank Mall, +Nellie's second son, a young farmer of twenty-five. + +To Mrs. Wade's everlasting credit, she never twitted Martin with +this, although she knew it from Rose's own lips, a month before +he heard of it through Bill. She was too grateful for their +narrow escape to feel vindictive and might have convinced herself +they had merely endured a bad nightmare if it had not been for +the shiny Victrola; the sight of it underscored the whole +experience and she wished there were some way to get rid of the +thing, a wish that was echoed even more fervently by Martin. In +the evenings they would sit around the cleared supper table, she +doing odd jobs of mending, Martin reading, checking up the +interest dates on his mortgages or making entries in his account +book, while Bill at his books, would study to the accompaniment +of record after record, blissfully unconscious of what a thorn in +the flesh he and his music were to both his parents. + +It was all so unpleasant. To Mrs. Wade it brought up pictures. +And it made Martin feel sheepish--the way he had felt that +afternoon, decades ago, as he sat in the bakery eating a +chocolate ice-cream soda and watching her walk across the Square. +He would have told Bill to quit playing it--more than once the +sharp words were on his tongue--but memories of the enthusiasm he +had evinced the night he brought it home kept him silent. He was +afraid of what the boy might say, afraid he might put two and two +together, so he let it stay, although with his usual caution he +had arranged for a trial and would have felt justified in packing +it back as soon as the roads had permitted. Illogically, he felt +it was all Bill's fault that he must endure this annoyance. + +That fall, the boy started to high school in Fallon, making the +long daily ride to and from town on horseback. He was a good +pupil and the hours he spent with his lessons were precious; they +made the farm drift away. To his mind, which was opening like a +bud, it seemed that history was the recorded romance of men who +were everything but farmers. School books told fascinating +stories of conquerors, soldiers, inventors, writers, engineers, +kings, statesmen and orators. He would sit and dream of the doers +of great deeds. When he read of Alexander the Great, Bill was he. +He was Caesar and Napoleon, Washington and Lincoln, Grant and +Edison and Shakespeare. When railroads were built in the pages of +his American History, it was Bill, himself, no less, who was the +presiding genius. His imagination constructed and levelled, and +rebuilt and remade. + +One beautiful November afternoon, in his Junior year, at the +sound of the last bell, which usually found him cantering out of +town, he went instead to the school reading-room, and, sitting +down calmly, opened his book and slowly read. The clock ticked +off the seconds he was stealing from his father; counted the +minutes that had never belonged to Bill before, but which now +tasted like old wine on the palate. He cuddled down, lost to the +world until five o'clock, when the building was closed. He left +it only to march down a few blocks to the town's meager library, +where another hour flew past. Gradually an empty feeling in his +middle region became increasingly insistent, and briefly +exploring his pockets, Bill decided upon a restaurant where he +bought a stew and rolls for fifteen cents. Never had a supper +tasted so satisfying. After it, he strolled around the town, +feeling a pleasant warmth in his veins, a springiness to his +legs, a new song in his heart. It was so good to be free to go +where he pleased, to be his own master, if only for a stolen +hour, to keep out of sight of a cow or a plow. He wondered why he +had never done this before. + +It was youth daring Fate, without show or bravado or fear; +rolling the honey under his tongue and drawing in its sweetness; +youth, that lives for the moment, that can be blind to the +threatening future, that can forget the mean past; youth slipping +along with some chewing-gum between his teeth and a warm +sensation in his stew-crammed stomach, whistling, dreaming, +happy; youth, that can, without premeditation, remain away from +home and leave udders untapped and pigs unfed; sublime enigma; +angering bit of irresponsibility to the Martins of a fiercely +practical world. Bill was that rare kind of boy who could pull +away from the traces just when he seemed most thoroughly broken +to the harness. + +It was ten o'clock before he got his pony out of the livery barn +and started for home. Even on the way, he refused to imagine what +would happen. He entered the house quietly, as though to tell his +father that it was his next move, and setting his bundle of books +on a chair, he glanced at his mother. She was at the stove, where +an armful of kindling had been set off to take the chill out of +the house. She looked at him mysteriously, as though he were a +ghost of some lost one who had strayed in from a graveyard, but +she said nothing. Bill did not even nod to her. He fumbled with +his books, as though to keep them from slipping to the floor +when, quite obviously, they were not even inclined to leave the +chair. Rose let her eyes fall and then slide, under half-closed +lids, until they had Martin in her view. She looked at him +appealingly, but he was staring at a paper which he was not +reading. He had been in this chair for two hours, without a word, +pretending to be studying printed words which his mind refused to +register. Martin had done Bill's share of the chores, with +unbelief in his heart. He had never imagined such a thing. Who +would have thought it could happen--a son of his! + +His wife broke the silence with: + +"What happened, Billy? Were you sick?" + +"No, mother, I wasn't sick." + +Martin was still looking at his paper, which his fists gripped +tightly. + +"Then you just couldn't get home sooner, could you? Something you +couldn't help kept you away, didn't it?" + +Bill shook his head slowly. "No," he answered easily. "I could +have come home much sooner." + +"Billy, dear, what DID happen?" She was beginning to feel +panicky; he was courting distress. + +"Nothing, mother. I just felt like staying in the reading-room +and reading--" + +"Oh, you HAD to do some lessons, didn't you! Miss Roberts should +have known better--" + +"I didn't have to stay in--I wanted to." + +Martin still kept silent, his eyes looking over the newspaper +wide open, staring, the muscles of his jaw relaxed. The boy was +quick to sense that he was winning--the simple, non-resistance of +the lamb was confounding his father. + +"I wanted to stay. I read a book, and then I took a walk, and +then I dropped in at the restaurant for a bite, and then I walked +around some more, and then I went to a movie." + +"Billy, what are you saying?" + +Martin, slowly putting down his paper, remarked without stressing +a syllable: + +"You had better go to bed, Bill; at once, without arguing." + +Bill moved towards the parlor, as though to obey. At the door he +stopped a moment and said: "I wasn't arguing; I was just +answering mother. She wanted to know." + +"She does not want to know." + +"Then I wanted her to know that I don't intend to work after +school any more. I'll do my chores in the morning, but that's +all. From now on nobody can MAKE me do anything." + +"I am not asking you to do anything but go to bed." + +"I don't intend to come home tomorrow afternoon until I'm ready. +Or any afternoon. And if you don't like it--" + +"Billy!" his mother cried; "Billy! go to bed!" + +The boy obeyed. + +Bill was fifteen when this took place. The impossible had +happened. He had challenged the master and had won. Even after he +had turned in, his father remained silent, feeling a secret +respect for him; mysteriously he had grown suddenly to manhood. +Martin was too mental to let anger express itself in violence +and, besides, strangely enough, he felt no desire to punish; +there was still the dislike he had always felt for him--his son +who was the son of this woman, but though he would never have +confessed aloud the satisfaction it gave him, he began to see +there was in the boy more than a little of himself. + +"Poor Billy," his mother apologized; "he's tired." + +"He didn't say he was tired--" + +"Then he did say he was tired of working evenings." + +"That's different." + +"Yes, it's different, Martin; but can you make him work?" + +"No, I don't intend to try. He isn't my slave." + +With overwhelming pride in her eyes, pride that shook her voice, +she exclaimed: "Not anybody's slave, and not afraid to declare +it. Billy is a different kind of a boy. He doesn't like the +farm--he hates it--" + +"I know." + +"He loathes everything about it. Only the other day he told me he +wished he could take it and tear it board from board, and leave +it just a piece of bleak prairie, as it was when your father +brought you here, Martin." + +"You actually mean he said he would tear down what took so many +years of work to build? This farm that gives him a home and +clothes and feeds him?" + +"He did, Martin. And he meant it--there was hatred burning in his +eyes. There's that in his heart which can tear and rend; and +there's that which can build. Oh, my unhappy Billy, my boy!" + +"Don't get hysterical. What do you want me to do? Have I said he +must work?" + +"No, but you have tried to rub it into his soul and it just can't +be done. You're not to be blamed for being what you are, nor is +Billy--I'll milk his cows." + +"I'm not asking that." + +"But I will, Martin." + +"And let him stand by and watch you?" + +"Put it that way if you will. Billy must get away from here. I +see that now." + +"I haven't suggested it." + +"But I do. I want him to be happy. We'll let him board in Fallon +the rest of the year. The butter and egg money will be enough to +carry him through. It won't cost much. If we don't send him, +he'll run away. I know him. He's my boy, and your son, Martin. I +won't see him suffer in a strange world, learning his lessons +from bitter experiences. I want him to be taken care of." + +"Very well, have it as you say. I'm not putting anything in the +way. I thought this was his home, but I see it isn't. It isn't a +prison. He can go, and good luck go with him." And after a long +silence: "He would tear down this farm--the best in the county! +Tear it down--board from board!" + + + +IX + +MARTIN'S SON SHAKES OFF THE DUST + +THE very next day, Mrs. Wade rented a room for Bill in the same +home in which Rose boarded, and for the rest of the winter she +and Martin went on as before--working as hard as ever and making +money even faster, while peace settled over their household, a +peace so profound that, in her more intuitive moments, Bill's +mother felt in it an ominous quality. + +The storm broke with the summer vacation and the boy's +point-blank refusal to return to farm work. His father laid down +an ultimatum: until he came home he should not have a cent even +from his mother, and home he should not come, at all, until he +was willing to carry his share of the farm work willingly, and +without further argument. "You see," he pointed out to his wife, +"that's the thanks I get for managing along without him this +winter. The ungrateful young rascal! If he doesn't come to his +senses shortly--" + +"Oh, Martin, don't do anything rash," implored Mrs. Wade. "Nearly +all boys go through this period. Just be patient with him." + +But even she was shaken when his Aunt Nellie, over ostensibly for +an afternoon of sociable carpet-rag sewing, began abruptly: "Do +you know what Bill is doing, Rose?" + +"Working in the mines," returned his mother easily. "Isn't it +strange, Nellie, that he should be digging coal right under this +farm, the very coal that gave Martin his start?" + +"Well, I'm not going to beat about the bush," continued her +sister-in-law abruptly. "He's working in the mines all right, but +he isn't digging coal at all, though that would be bad enough. I +wouldn't say a word about it, but I think you ought to know the +truth and put a stop to such a risky business--he's firing +shots." + +Rose's heart jumped, but she continued to wind up her large ball +with the same uninterrupted motion. + +"Are you sure?" + +"I made Frank find out for certain. It's an extra dangerous mine +because gas forms in it unusually often, and he gets fifteen +dollars a day for the one hour he works. There's a contract, but +he's told them he's twenty-one, and when you prove he's under age +they'll make him stop." + +Rose still wound and wound, her clear eyes, looking over her +glasses, fixed on Nellie. + +"It's bad enough, I'll say," rapped out the spare, angular woman, +"to have everybody talking about the way Martin has ditched his +son, without having the boy scattered to bits, or burned to a +cinder. Already he's been blown twenty feet by one windy shot, +and more than once he's had to lie flat while those horrible +gases burned themselves out right over his head. His 'buddie,' +the Italian who fires in the other part of the mine at the same +time, told Harry Brown, the nightman, and he told Frank, himself. +Why, they say if he'd have moved the least bit it would have +fanned the fire downward and he'd have been in a fine mess. +Sooner or later all shot-firers meet a tragic end. You want to +put your foot down, Rose, and put it down hard--for once in your +life --if you can," she added, half under her breath. + +"It isn't altogether Martin's fault," began Rose, but Nellie cut +her off with a short: "Now, don't you tell me a word about that +precious brother of mine! It's as plain to me as the nose on your +face that between his bull-headed hardness and your wishy-washy +softness you're fixing to ruin one of the best boys God ever put +on this earth." + +"I'll talk to Billy," Rose promised. + +It was the first time she ever had found herself definitely in +opposition to her boy, but she felt serene in the confidence of +her own power to dissuade him from anything so perilous. She +understood the general routine of mining, and had been daily +picturing him going down in the cage to the bottom, travelling +through a long entry until he was under his home farm and located +in one of the low, three-foot rooms where a Kansas miner must +stoop all day. Oh, how it had hurt--that thought of those fine +young shoulders bending, bending! She had visualized him filling +his car, and mentally had followed his coal as it was carried up +to the surface to be dumped into the hopper, weighed and dropped +down the chute into the flat cars. Of course, there was always +the danger of a loosened rock falling on him, but wasn't there +always the possibility of accidents on a farm, too? Didn't the +company's man always go down, first, into the mine to test the +air and make certain it was all right? Rose had convinced herself +that the risk was not so great, after all, though she could not +help sharing a little of her husband's wonder that the boy could +prefer to work underground instead of in the sweet, fresh +sunshine. But she had thought it was because in the desperation +of his complete revolt from Martin's domination anything else +seemed to him preferable. Now, in a lightning flash, she +understood. This reaction from a life whose duties had begun +before sun-up and ended long after sundown, made danger seem as +nothing in comparison with the marvellous chance to earn a +comfortable living with only one hour's work a day. + +Her conversation with Bill proved that she had been only too +right. The boy was intoxicated with his own liberty. "I know I +ought to have told you, mother," he confessed. "I wanted to. +Honest, I did, but I was afraid you'd worry, though you needn't. +The man who taught me how to fire has been doing it over twenty +years. A lot of it's up to a fellow, himself. You can pretty near +tell if the air is all right by the way it blows--the less the +better it is. And if you're right careful to see that the +tool-boxes the boys leave are all locked--so's no powder can +catch, you know--and always start lighting against the air, so +that if there's gas and it catches the fire'll blow away from you +instead of following you up--and if you examine the fuses to see +they're long enough and the powder is tamped in just right--each +miner does that before he leaves and lots of firers just give 'em +a hasty once-over instead of a real look--and then shake your +heels good and fast after you do fire--" + +"Billy!" Rose was white. "I can't bear it--to hear you go on so +lightly, when it's your life, your LIFE, you're playing with. For +my sake, son, give it up." + +With an odd sinking of the heart, she observed the expression in +his face which she had seen so often in his father's--the one +that said as plainly as words that nothing could shake his +determination. "A fellow's got a right to some good times in this +world," he said very low, "and I'm getting mine now. I'm not +going to grind away and grind away all my life like father and +you've done. If anything did happen I'd have had a chance to +dream and think and read instead of getting to be old without +ever having any fun out of it all. Maybe you won't believe it, +but some days for hours I just lie in the sun like a darky boy, +not even thinking. Gee! it feels great! And sometimes I read all +day until I have to go to the mine. There's one thing I'm going +to tell you square," he went on, a firm ring in his voice, boyish +for all its deep, bass note, "I'm never going back to the farm, +never! Mother," he cried, suddenly, coming over to take her hand +in both his. "Will you leave father? We could rent a little house +and you'd have hardly anything to do. I'm making more than lots +of men with families. And I'd give you my envelope without +opening it every pay-day." "Oh, Billy, you don't know what you're +saying! I couldn't leave your father. I couldn't think of it." + +"What I don't see is how you can stand it to stay with him. He's +always been a brute to you. He's never cared a red cent for +either of us." + +Rose was abashed before the harsh logic of youth. "Oh, son," she +murmured brokenly, "there are things one can't explain. I suppose +it may seem strange to you--but his life has been so empty. He +has missed so much! Everything, Billy." + +"Then it's his own fault," judged the boy. "If ever anybody's +always had his own way and done just as he darn pleased it's +father. I wish he'd die, that's what I wish." + +"Bill!" His mother's tone was stern. + +"There you are!" he marvelled. "You must have wished it lots of +times yourself. I know you have. Yet you always talk as if you +loved him." + +In Rose's eyes, the habitual look of patience and understanding +deepened. How could Bill, as yet scarcely tried by life, +comprehend the purging flames through which she had passed or +realize time's power to reveal unsuspected truths. + +"When you've been married to a man nearly twenty-two years and +have built up a place together, there's bound to be a bond +between you," she eluded. "He just lives for this farm. It's +almost as dear to him as you are to me, son, and it's a wonderful +heritage, Bill, a magnificent heritage. Just think! Two +generations have labored to build it out of the dust. Your +father's whole life is in it. Your father's and mine. And your +grandmother's. If only you could ever come to care for it!" + +Bill fidgeted uneasily. "You mean you want me to go on with it?" +he demanded. "You want me to come back to it, settle down to be a +farmer--like father?" + +The tone in which he asked this question made Rose choose her +words carefully. + +"What are your plans, son? What do you want to be--not just now, +but finally?" + +"I can't see what difference it makes what a fellow is--except +that in one business a man makes more than in another. And I +can't see either that it does a person a bit of good to have +money. I'm having more fun right now than father or you ever +had--more fun than anybody I know. Mother," and his face was +solemn as if with a great discovery, "I've figured it out that +it's silly to do as most people--just live to work. I'm going to +work just enough to live comfortably. Not one scrap more, either. +You can't think how I hate the very thought of it." + +Rose sighed. Couldn't she, indeed! She understood only too well +how deeply this rebellion was rooted. The hours when he had been +dragged up from the far shores of a dreamful slumber to shiver +forth in the chill darkness to milk and chore, still rankled. +Those tangy frosty afternoons, when he had been forced to clean +barns and plow while the other boys went rabbit and possum +hunting or nutting, were afternoons whose loss he still mourned. +Nothing had yet atoned for the evenings when he had been torn +from his reading and sent sternly to bed because he must get up +so early. Always work had stolen from him these +treasures--dreams, recreation and knowledge. He had been obliged +to fight the farm and his father for even a modicum of them--the +things that made life worth living. And the irony of it--that +eventually it would be this farm and Martin's driving methods +which, if he became reconciled to his father, would make it +possible for him to drink all the fullness of leisure. + +It was too tragic that the very thing which should have stood for +opportunity to the boy had been used to embitter him and drive +him into danger. But he must not lose his birthright. An almost +passionate desire welled in Rose's heart to hold on to it for +him. True, she too had been a slave to the farm. Yet not so much +a slave to it, she distinguished, as to Martin's absorption in +its development. And of late years there had been for her, +running through all the humdrum days, a satisfaction in +perfecting it. In her mind now floated clearly the ideal toward +which her husband was striving. She had not guessed how much it +had become her own until she felt herself being drawn +relentlessly by Bill's quiet, but implacable determination to +have her leave it all behind. If only he would try again, she +felt sure all would be so different! His father had learned a +lesson, of that she was positive, and though he would not promise +it, would not be so hard on the boy. And with this new +independence of Bill's to strengthen her, they could resist +Martin more successfully as different issues came up. She could +manage to help her boy get what he wanted out of life without his +having to pay such a terrible price as, the mine on one hand, and +his father's displeasure on the other, might exact, for she knew +that if he persisted too long, the break with Martin could never +be bridged and that in the end his father would evoke the full +powers of the law to disinherit him and tie her own hands as +completely as possible in that direction. + +But she was far too wise to press such arguments in her son's +present mood. They would have to drift for a while, she saw that +clearly, until she could gradually impress upon him how different +farming would be if he were his own master. In time, he might +even come to understand how much Martin needed her. + +"Say you will," Bill, pleading, insistent, broke in on her train +of reflections, "I've always dreamed of this day, when we'd go +away, and now it's come. I can take care of you." + +As he stood there, a glorious figure in his youthful +self-confidence, a turn of his head reminded her a second time of +Martin, recalling sharply the way her husband had looked the +night he told her of his love for the other Rose. He had been +bothered by no fine qualms about abandoning herself. She thought +of his final surrender of love to wisdom. It was only youth that +dared pursue happiness--to purchase delicious idleness by +gambling with death. Billy was her boy. His dreams and hopes +should be hers; her way of life, the one that gave him the most +joy. She would follow him, if need be, to the end of the earth. + +"Very well, son," she said simply, her voice breaking over the +few words. "If a year from now you still feel like this, I'll do +as you wish." + +"You don't know how I hate him," muttered the boy. "It's only +when I'm tramping in the woods, or in the middle of some book I +like that I can forgive him for living. No, mother, I don't mean +all that," he laughed, giving her a bear-like hug. + +It was in this more reasonable side, this ability to change his +point of view quickly when he became convinced he was wrong, that +Mrs. Wade now put her faith. She would give him plenty of rope, +she decided, not try to drive him. It would all come right, if +she only waited, and she prayed, nightly, with an increasing +tranquillity, that he might be kept safe from harm, taking deep +comfort in the new light of contentment that was gradually +stealing into his face. After all, each one had to work out his +destiny in his own way, she supposed. + +It was less than a month later that her telephone rang, and Rose, +calmly laying aside her sewing and getting up rather stiffly +because of her rheumatism, answered, thinking it probably a call +from Martin, who had left earlier in the evening, to wind up a +little matter of a chattel on some growing wheat. It had just +begun to rain and she feared he might be stuck in the road +somewhere, calling to tell her to come for him. But it was not +Martin's voice that answered. + +"Mrs. Wade?" + +"Yes." + +"Why"--there was a forbidding break that made her shudder. A +second later she convinced herself that it seemed a natural +halt--people do such things without any apparent cause; but she +could not help shaking a little. + +"Is it about Mr. Wade?" and as she asked this question she +wondered why she had spoken her husband's name when it was Bill's +that really had rushed through her mind. + +"No, ma'am, it ain't about Martin Wade I'm callin' you up, it +ain't him at all--" + +"I see." She said this calmly and quietly, as though to impress +her informant and reassure him. "What is it?" It was almost +unnecessary to ask, for she knew already what had happened, knew +that the boy had flung his dice and lost. + +"It's your son, Mrs. Wade; it's him I'm a-callin' about. We're +about to bring him home to you--an'--and I thought it'd be better +to call you up first so's you might expect us an' not take on +with the suddenness of it all. This is Brown--Harry Brown--the +nightman at the mine down here. We've got the ambulance here and +we're about ready to start." There was an evenness about the +strange voice that she understood better than its words. If Bill +had been hurt the man would have been quick and jerky in his +speaking as though he were feeling the boy's pain with him; but +he was so even about it all--as even as Death. + +"Then I'll phone for Dr. Bradley so he'll be here by the time you +come," said Rose, wondering how she could think of so practical a +thing. Her mind had wrapped itself in a protecting armor, +forbidding the shock of it all to strike with a single blow. She +couldn't understand why she was not screaming. + +"You can--if you want to, but Bill don't need him, Mrs. +Wade,--he's dead." + +Slowly she hung up the receiver, the wall still around her brain, +holding it tight and keeping her nerves taut, afraid to release +them for fear they might snap. She stood there looking at the +receiver as her hands came together. + +As though she were talking to a person instead of the telephone +before her, she gasped: "So--so THIS is what it has all been +for--this. Into the world, into Martin's world--and this way out +of it. Burned to death--Billy." + +The rain had lessened a little and now the wind began to shake +the house, rattle the windows and scream as it tore its way over +the plains. The sky flared white and the world lighted up +suddenly, as though the sun had been turned on from an electric +switch. At the same instant she saw a bolt of lightning strike a +young tree by the roadside, heard the sharp click as it hit and +then watched the flash dance about, now on the road, now along +the barbed wire fencing. Then the world went black again. And a +rumble quickly grew to an earth-shaking blast of thunder. It was +as though that tree were Billy --struck by a gush of flying fire. +The next bolt broke above the house, and the light it threw +showed her the stripling split and lying on the ground. In the +impenetrable darkness she realized that the house fuse of their +Delco system must have been blown out, and she groped blindly for +a match. She could hear the rain coming down again, now in +rivers. There was unchained wrath in the downpour, viciousness. +It was a madman rushing in to rend and tear. It frothed, and +writhed, and spat hatred. Rose shook as though gripped by a +strong hand. She was afraid--of the rain, the lightning, the +thunder, the darkness; alone there, waiting for them to bring her +Billy. She was too terrified to add her weeping to the wail of +the wind--it would have been too ghastly. Would she never find a +match! As she lit the lamp, like the stab of a needle in the +midst of agony, came the thought of how long it had been after +Martin had put in his electrical system and connected up his +barns before she had been permitted to have this convenience in +the house. What would he think now? She wished he were home. +Anyone would be better than this awful waiting alone. She could +only stand there, away from the window, looking out at the sheets +of water running down the panes and shivering with the +frightfulness and savageness of it all. + +Her ears caught a rumble, fainter than thunder, and the splash of +horses' hoofs--"it's too muddy for the motor ambulance," she +thought, mechanically. "They're using the old one," and her heart +contracting, twisting, a queer dryness in her throat, she opened +the door as they stopped, her hand shading the lamp against the +sudden inrush of wind and rain. "In there, through the parlor," +she said dully, indicating the new room and thinking, bitterly, +as she followed them, that now, when it could mean nothing to +Billy, Martin would offer no objections to its being given over +to him. + +The scuffling of feet, the low, matter-of-fact orders of a +directing voice: "Easy now, boys--all together, lift. Watch out; +pull that sheet back up over him," and a brawny, work-stooped man +saying to her awkwardly: "I wouldn't look at him if I was you, +Mrs. Wade, till the undertaker fixes him up," and she was once +more alone. + +As if transfixed, she continued to stand, looking beyond the +lamp, beyond the bed on which her son's large figure was outlined +by the sheet, beyond the front door which faced her, beyond--into +the night, looking for Martin, waiting for him to come home to +his boy. She asked herself again and again how she had been so +restrained when her Billy had been carried in. After what seemed +interminable ages, she heard heavy steps on the back porch and +knew that her husband had returned at last. He brought in with +him a gust of wind that caused the lamp to smoke. She held it +with both hands, afraid that she might drop it, and carrying it +to the dining-room table set it down slowly, looking at him. He +seemed huger than ever with his hulk sinking into the gray +darkness behind him. There was something elephantine about him as +he stood there, soaked to the skin, bending forward a little, +breathing slowly and deeply, his fine nostrils distending with +perfect regularity, his face in the dim light, yellow, with the +large lines almost black. He was hatless and his tawny-gray hair +was flat with wetness, coming down almost to his eyes, so clear +and far-seeing. + +"What's the matter with the lights? Fuse blown out?" he asked, +spitting imaginary rain out of his mouth. + +Rose did not answer. + +"Awful night for visiting," Martin announced roughly, as he took +off his coat. "But it was lucky I went, or all would have been +pretty bad for me. Do you know, that rascal was delivering the +wheat to the elevator--wheat on which I held a chattel--and I got +to Tom Mayer just as he was figuring up the weights. You should +have seen Johnson's face when I came in. He knew I had him +cornered. 'Here,' I said, 'what's up?' And that lying rascal +turned as white as death and said something about getting ready +to bring me a check. I told him I was much obliged, but I would +take it along with me --and I did. Here it is--fourteen hundred +dollars, plus interest. And I got it by the skin of my teeth. I +didn't stop to argue with him for I saw the storm coming on. I +went racing, but a half mile north I skidded into the ditch. I +really feel like leaving the car there all night, but it would do +a lot of damage. I'll have to get a team and drag it in. I call +it a good day's work. What do you say?" He looked at her closely, +for the first time noticing her drawn face and far-away look. + +"What's the matter? You look goopy--" + +Rose settled herself heavily in the rocker close to the table. + +"You're not sick, are you?" + +She shook her head a few times and answered: "He's in there--" + +"Who?" Martin straightened up ready for anything. + +"Billy--" + +"Oh!" A light flashed into Martin's face. "So he has come back, +has he? Back home? What made him change toward this place? Is he +here to stay?" + +"No, Martin--" + +"Then if he hasn't come to his senses, what is he doing +here--here in my house, the home he hates--" + +"He doesn't hate it now," Rose replied, struggling for words that +she might express herself and end this cruel conversation, but +all she could do was to point nervously toward the spare room. + +"What is he doing in there? It's the one spot that Rose can call +her own, poor child." + +"He's on the bed, Martin--" + +"What's the matter with the davenport he's always slept on? Is he +sick? What in heaven's name is going on in this house?" + +As Martin started toward the bedroom, his wife opened her lips to +tell him the truth but the words refused to come; at the same +instant it struck her that not to speak was brutal, yet just. She +would let Martin go to this bed with words of anger on his lips, +with feelings of unkindness in his heart. She would do this. +Savage? Yes, but why not? There seemed to be something fair about +it. Then her heart-strings pulled more strongly than ever. No; it +was too hard. She must stop him, tell him, prepare him. But +before the words came, he was out of the room and when she spoke +he did not hear her because of the rain. + +He saw the vague lines of the boy's body, hidden by the sheet, +and thought quickly, "Bill's old ostrich-like trick," and while +at the same instant something told him that a terrible thing had +happened, the idea did not register completely until he had his +hand on the linen. Then, with a short yank, he pulled away the +cover and saw the boy's head. Dark as it was, it was enough to +show him the truth. With a quick move he covered him again. There +was a smeary wetness on his fingers, which he wiped away on the +side of his trousers. They were drenched with rain, but he +distinguished the sticky feel of blood leaving his hand as he +rubbed it nervously. + +His first emotion was one of anger with Rose. He was sure she had +played this sinister jest deliberately to torture him and he had +fallen into the trap. He wanted to rush back into the other room +and strike her down. He would show her! But he dismissed this +impulse, for he did not want her to see him like this, no hold on +himself and his mind without direction. Sitting there, she would +have the advantage. Without so much as a sound except for the +slight noise he made in walking, Martin went through the parlor +towards the front door and out to the steps, where he leaned for +a moment against the weather-boarding, letting the rain fall on +him as he stared dully down at the ground. It felt good to stand +there. No eyes were on him, and the rain was refreshing. This had +been too much for him. Never had he known himself to be so near +to bewilderment. How fortunate that he had escaped by this simple +trick of leaving the house. Then he thought of the car--a +half-mile north--and the horses in the stable. He must do +something. He would bring the car into the garage. It was +relieving to hurry across the dripping grass toward the barn. How +wonderful it was to keep the body doing something when the breath +in him was short, his heart battering like an engine with +burned-out bearings, his brain in insane chaos. As he applied a +match to the lantern he thought of his wife again, and his face +regained its scowl. + +Only when he had his great heavy team in the yard, his lantern +hanging from his arm, the reins in his hands, and was pulling +back with all his strength as he followed the horses--only then +did he permit himself to think about the tragedy that had +befallen. + +"He's dead--killed," he groaned. "It had to come. Shot-firers +don't last long. Whoa, there, Lottie; not so fast, Jet, whoa!" +His protesting team in control again, he trudged heavily behind. +"It's terrible to die that way--not a chance in a thousand. And a +kid of sixteen didn't have the judgment --couldn't have. But Bill +knew what he was facing every evening. He didn't go in blindly. +They'll blame me, as though it was my fault. I didn't want him to +go there. I wanted him to take a hand here, to run the place by +himself in good time. It was his mother who sent him away first." +He went on like that, justifying himself more positively as +excuse after excuse suggested itself. + +Not until he had convinced himself that he was in no way +responsible, did he allow his heart to beat a little for this boy +of his. "Poor Bill," he thought on, "it has been a tough game for +him. Lost in the shuffle. Born into something he didn't like and +trying to escape, only to get caught. What did he expect out of +life, anyway? Why didn't he learn that it's only a lot of +senseless pain? Every moment of it pain--from coming into the +world to going out. Oh, Bill, why didn't you learn what I know? +You had brains, boy, but it would have been better if you had +never used them. I've brains, too, but I've always managed to +keep them tied down--buckled to the farm, to investments, and +work--thinking about things that make us forget life. It's all +dust and dust, with rain once in a while, only the rain steams +off and it's dust again." + +Martin began to review the course of his own past, and smiled +bitterly. Others were able to live the same kind of an existence, +but, unlike himself, took it as a preparation for another day, +another existence which, it seemed to him, was measured and cut +to order by professionals who understood how to fix up the +meaning of life so that it would soothe and satisfy. He thought +how much better it was to be a dumb, unquestioning beast, or a +human being conscious of his soul, than to be as he was--alone, a +materialist, who saw the meaninglessness of matter and whose +mind, in some manner which he did not understand, had developed a +slant that made him doubt what others accepted so easily as +facts. Martin knew he was bound to things of substance but he +followed the lure of property and accumulation as he might have +followed some other game had he learned it, knowing all along +that it was a delusion and at the same time acknowledging that +for him there was nothing else as sufficing. + +How simple, if Bill's future could be a settled thing in his mind +as it was to the boy's mother. Or his own future! If only he +could believe--then how different it would be for him. He could +go on placidly and die with a smile. But he could not believe. +His atheism was both mental and instinctive. It was something he +could not understand, and which he knew he could never change, +try as he might. Take this very evening. Here was death in his +home. And he was escaping a lot of anguish, not by praying for +Bill's soul or his own forgiveness, but by the simple process of +harnessing a team and dragging a car through the mud. It was a +great game, work was--the one weapon with which to meet life. +This was not a cut and dried philosophy with him, but a glimmer +that, though always suggesting itself but dimly, never failed +when put to the test. Martin felt better. He began to probe a +little farther, albeit with an aimlessness about his questions +that almost frightened him. He asked himself whether he loved +Bill, now that he was dead, and he had to admit that he did not. +The boy had always been something other than he had expected --a +disappointment. Did he love anyone? No. Not a person; not even +any longer that lovely Rose of Sharon who had flowered in his +dust for a brief hour. His wife? God Almighty, no. Then who? +Himself? No, his very selfishness had other springs than that. He +was one of those men, not so uncommon either, he surmised, who +loved no one on the whole wide earth. + +When he re-entered the house, he found his wife still seated in +the rocker, softly weeping, the tears flowing down her cheeks and +dropping unheeded into her lap. He pitied her. + +"I feel as though he didn't die tonight," she mourned, looking at +Martin through full eyes. "He died when he was born, like the +first one." + +"I know how you feel," said Martin, sympathy in his voice. + +"I made him so many promises before he came, but I wasn't able to +keep a single one of them." + +"I'm sorry; I wish I could help you in some way." + +"Oh, Martin, I know you're not a praying man--but if you could +only learn." + +Martin looked at her respectfully but with profound curiosity. + +"There must be an answer to all this," Rose went on brokenly. +"There must! Billy is lying in the arms of Jesus now--no pain, +only sweet rest. I believe that." + +"I'm glad you have the faith that can put such meaning into it +all." + +"Martin, I want to pray for strength to bear it." + +"Yes, Rose." + +"You'll pray with me, won't you?" + +"You just said I wasn't a praying man." + +"Yes, but I can't pray alone, with him in there alone, too, and +you here with me, scoffing." + +"I can't be other than I am, Rose; but you pray, and as you pray +I'll bow my head." + + + +X + +INTO THE DUST-BIN + +WITH the loss of her boy, time ceased to exist for Rose. The days +came and went, lengthening into years, full of duties, leaving +her as they found her, outwardly little changed and habitually +calm and kind, but inwardly sunk in apathy. She moved as if in a +dream, seeming to live in a strange world that would never again +seem real--this world without Billy. Occasionally, she would +forget and think he was out in the field or down in the mine; +more rarely still, she would slip even further backward and +wonder what he was about in his play. During these moments she +would feel normal, but some object catching her eye would jerk +her back to the present and the cruel truth. She and Martin had +less than ever to say to each other, though in his own grim way +he was more thoughtful, giving her to understand that there were +no longer any restrictions laid upon her purchasing, and even +suggesting that they remodel the house; as if, she thought +impassively, at this late day, it could matter what she bought or +in what she lived. His one interest in making money, just as if +they had some one to leave it to, puzzled her. Always investing, +then reinvesting the interest, and spending comparatively little +of his income, his fortune had now reached the point where it was +growing rapidly of its own momentum and, as there was nothing to +which he looked forward, nothing he particularly wanted to do, he +set himself the task of making it cross the half million mark, +much as a man plays solitaire, to occupy his mind, betting +against himself, to give point to his efforts. + +Yet, it gave him a most disconcerting, uncanny start, when one +bright winter day, he faced the fact that he, too, was about to +be shovelled into the great dust-bin. Death was actually at his +side, his long, bony finger on his shoulder and whispering +impersonally, "You're next." "Very much," thought Martin, "like a +barber on a busy Saturday." How odd that here was something that +had never entered into his schemes, his carefully worked out +plans! It seemed so unfair--why, he had been feeling so well, his +business had been going on so profitably, there was something so +substantial to the jog of his life, there seemed to be something +of the eternal about it. He had taken ten-year mortgages but a +few days ago, and had bought two thousand dollars' worth of +twenty-year Oklahoma municipals when he could have taken an +earlier issue which he had rejected as maturing too soon. He had +forgotten that there was a stranger who comes but once, and now +that he was here, Martin felt that a mean trick had been played +on him. He cogitated on the journey he was to take, and it made +him not afraid, but angry. It was a shabby deal--that's what it +was--when he was so healthy and contented, only sixty-one and +ready to go on for decades--two or three at least--forced, +instead, to prepare to lay himself in a padded box and be +hurriedly packed away. It had always seemed so vague, this +business of dying, and now it was so personal--he, Martin Wade, +himself, not somebody else, would suffer a little while longer +and then grow still forever. + +He would never know how sure a breeder was his new bull--the son +of that fine creature he had imported; two cows he had spotted as +not paying their board could go on for months eating good alfalfa +and bran before a new herdsman might become convinced of their +unreadiness to turn the expensive feed into white gold; he had +not written down the dates when the sows were to farrow, and they +might have litters somewhere around the strawstack and crush half +the little pigs. His one hundred and seventy-five acres of wheat +had had north and south dead furrows, but he had learned that +this was a mistake in probably half the acreage, where they +should be east and west. It would make a great difference in the +drainage, but a new plowman might think this finickiness and just +go ahead and plow all of it north and south, or all of it east +and west and this would result in a lower yield--some parts of +the field would get soggy and the wheat might get a rust, and +other parts drain too readily, letting the ground become parched +and break into cakes, all of which might be prevented. And there +was all that manure, maker of big crops. He knew only too well +how other farmers let it pile up in the barnyard to be robbed by +the sun of probably twenty per cent of its strength. He figured +quickly how it would hurt the crops that he had made traditional +on Wade land. He considered these things, and they worried him, +made him realize what a serious thing was death, far more serious +than the average person let himself believe. + +Martin had gone to the barn a week before to help a cow which was +aborting. It had enraged him when he thought what an alarming +thing this was--abortion among HIS cows--in Martin Wade's +beautiful herd! "God Almighty!" he had exclaimed, deciding as he +took the calf from the mother to begin doctoring her at once. He +would fight this disease before it could establish a hold. +Locking the cow's head in an iron stanchion, he had shed his +coat, rolled up his right sleeve almost to the shoulder, washed +his hand and arm in a solution of carbolic and hot water, +carefully examining them to make sure there was no abrasion of +any kind. But despite his caution, a tiny cut so small that it +had escaped his searching, had come in contact with the infected +mucous membrane and blood poisoning had set in. And here he was, +lying in bed, given up by Doctor Bradley and the younger men the +older physician had called into consultation and who had tried in +vain to stem the spread of poison through his system. Martin was +going to die, and no power could save him. The irony of it! This +farm to which he had devoted his life was taking it from him by a +member of its herd. + +Martin made a wry little grimace of amusement as he realized +suddenly that even at the very gate of death it was still on +life, his life, that his thoughts dwelt. In these last moments, +it was the tedious, but stimulating, battle of existence that +really occupied his full attention. He would cling to it until +the last snap of the thin string. This cavern of oblivion that +was awaiting him, that he must enter--it was black and now more +than ever his deep, simple irreligion refused to let fairy tales +pacify him with the belief that beyond it was everlasting +daylight. Scepticism was not only in his conscious thought but in +the very tissues of his mind. + +He remembered how his own father had died on this farm--he had +had no possessions to think about; only his loved ones, his wife +and his children; but he had brought them here that they might +amass property out of Martin's sweat and the dust of the prairie. +Now he, the son, dying, had in his mind no thought of people, but +of this land and of stock and of things. And how strangely his +mind was reacting to it. His concern was not who should own them +all, but what would actually be the fate of each individual +property child of his. Why, he had not even written a will. It +would all go to his wife, of course, and how little he cared to +whom she left it. He would have liked, perhaps, to have given +Rose Mall twenty-five thousand or so--so she could always be +independent of that young husband of hers--snap her fingers at +him if he got to driving her too hard, and crushing out the +flower-like quality of her--but his wife wouldn't have +understood, and he had hurt her enough, in all conscience. The +one thing he might have enjoyed doing, he couldn't. Outside of +that he didn't care who got it. She could leave it to whomever +she liked when her turn came. Not to whom it went, but what would +happen to it--that was what concerned him. + +By his side, Rose, sitting so motionless that he was scarcely +conscious of her presence, was dying with him. With that peculiar +gift of profoundly sympathetic natures she was thinking and +feeling much of what he was experiencing. It seemed to her +heart-breaking that Martin must be forced to abandon the only +things for which he cared. He had even sacrificed his lovely Rose +of Sharon for them--she had never been in any doubt as to the +reason for that sudden emotional retreat of his seven years +before. And she knew his one thought now must be for their +successful administration. + +He had worked so hard always and yet had had so little happiness, +so little real brightness out of life. She felt, generously, with +a clutching ache, that with all the disappointments she had +suffered through him--from his first broken promises about the +house to his lack of understanding of their boy which had +resulted in Billy's death--with even that, she had salvaged so +much more out of living than he. A great compassion swelled +within her; all the black moments, all the long, gray hours of +their years together, seemed suddenly insignificant. She saw him +again as he had been the day he had proposed marriage to her and +for the first time she was sure that she could interpret the +puzzling look that had come into his eyes when she had asked him +why he thought she could make him happy. What had he understood +about happiness? With a noiseless sob, she remembered that he had +answered her in terms of the only thing he had understood--work. +And she saw him again, too, as he had been the night he had so +bluntly told her of his passion for Rose. It seemed to her now, +free of all rancor, unutterably tragic that the only person +Martin had loved should have come into his life too late. + +He was not to be blamed because he had never been able to care +for herself. He should never have asked her to marry him--and +yet, they had not been such bad partners. It would have been so +easy for her to love him. She had loved him until he had killed +her boy; since then, all her old affection had withered. But if +it really had done so why was she so racked now? She felt, +desperately, that she could not let him go until he had had some +real joy. To think that she used to plan, cold-bloodedly, when +Billy was little, all she would do if only Martin should happen +to die! The memory of it smote her as with a blow. She looked +down at the powerful hand lying so passively, almost, she would +have said, contentedly, in her own. How she had yearned for the +comfort of it when her children were born. She wondered if Martin +realized her touch, if it helped a little. If it had annoyed him, +he would have said so. It came to her oddly that in all the +twenty-seven years she and her husband had been married this was +the very first time he had let her be tender to him. Oh, his life +had been bleak. Bleak! And she with such tenderness in her heart. +It hadn't been right. From the depths of her rebellion and +forgiveness, slow tears rose. Feeling too intensely, too +mentally, to be conscious of them she sat unmoving as they rolled +one by one down her cheeks and dropped unheeded. + +"Rose," he called with a soft hoarseness, "I want to talk to +you." + +"Yes, Martin," and she gave his fingers a slight squeeze as +though to convince him that she was there at his side. He felt +relieved. It was good to feel her hand and be sure that if his +body were to give its final sign that life had slipped away +someone would be there to know the very second it had happened. +It was a satisfactory way to die; it took a little of the +loneliness away from the experience. + +"Rose," he repeated. It sounded so new, the yearning tone in +which he said it--"Rose!" It hurt. "Isn't it funny, Rose, to go +like this--not sick, no accident--just dying without any real +reason except that I absorbed the poison through a cut so small +my eyes couldn't see it." + +"It's a mystery, dear," the little word limped out awkwardly, +"but God's ways are not ours." + +"Not a mystery," he corrected, "just a heap of tricks; funny +ones, sad ones, sensible ones, and crazy ones--and of all the +crazy ones this is the worst. But, what's the use? If there's a +God, as you believe, it doesn't do any good to argue with Him, +and if it's as I think and there's no God, there's no one to +argue with. But never mind about that now--it's no matter. You'll +listen carefully, won't you, Rose?" + +"Yes, Martin." + +"This abortion in the herd. You know what a terrible thing it +is." + +"I certainly do; it's the cause of your leaving me." + +"Rose, I know you'll be busy during the next few days--me dying, +the things that have to be arranged, the funeral and all that. +But when it's all over, you'll let that be the first thing, won't +you?" + +"Yes, the very first thing, if you wish it." + +"I do. Get Dr. Hurton on the job at once, and have him fight it. +He knows his business. Let him come twice a day until he's sure +it's out of the herd. Keep that new bull out of the pasture. And +if Hurton can't clean it up, you'd better get rid of the herd +before it gets known around the country. You know how news of +that kind travels. Don't try to handle the sale yourself. If you +do, it'll be a mistake. The prices will be low if you get only a +county crowd." + +"Neighbors usually bid low," she agreed. + +"Run up to Topeka and see Baker--he's the sales manager of the +Holstein Breeders' Association. Let him take charge of it +all--he's a straight fellow. He'll charge you enough--fifteen per +cent of the gross receipts, but then he'll see to it that the +people who want good stuff will be there. He knows how and where +to advertise. He's got a big list of names, and can send out +letters to the people that count. He'll bring buyers from Iowa +down to Texas. Remember his name--Baker." + +"Yes, Martin--Baker." + +"I think you ought to sell the herd anyway," he went on. "I know +you, Rose; you'll be careless about the papers--no woman ever +realizes how important it is to have the facts for the +certificates of registry and transfer just right. I'm afraid +you'll fall down there and get the records mixed. You won't get +the dates exact and the name and number of each dam and sire. +Women are all alike there--they never seem to realize that a +purebred without papers is just a good grade." + +Rose made no comment, while Martin changed his position slowly +and lost himself in thought. + +"Yes, I guess it's the only thing to do--to get rid of the +purebred stuff. God Almighty! It's taken me long enough to build +up that herd, but a few weeks from now they'll be scattered to +the four winds. Well, it can't be helped. Try to sell them to men +who understand something of their value. And that reminds me, +Rose. You always speak of them as thoroughbreds. It always did +get on my nerves. That's right for horses, but try to remember +that cows are purebreds. You'll make that mistake before men who +know. Those little things are important. Remember it, won't you?" + +"Thoroughbred for a horse, and purebred for a cow," Rose repeated +willingly. + +"When you get your money for the stock put it into +mortgages--first mortgages, not seconds. Let that be a principle +with you. Many a holder of a second mortgage has been left to +hold the sack. You must remember that the first mortgage comes in +for the first claim after taxes, and if the foreclosure doesn't +bring enough to satisfy more than that, the second mortgage is +sleeping on its rights." + +"First mortgages, not seconds," said Rose. + +"And while I'm on that, let me warn you about Alex Tracy, four +miles north and a half mile east, on the west side of the road. +He's a slippery cuss and you'll have to watch him." + +"Alex Tracy, four miles north--" + +"You'll find my mortgage for thirty-seven hundred in my box at +the bank. He's two coupons behind in his interest. I made him +give me a chattel on his growing corn. Watch him--he's +treacherous. He may think he can sneak around because you're a +woman and stall you. He's just likely to turn his hogs into that +corn. Your chattel is for growing corn, not for corn in a hog's +belly. If he tries any dirty business get the sheriff after him." + +"It's on the GROWING corn," said Rose. + +"And here's another important point--taxes. Don't pay any taxes +on mortgages. What's the use of giving the politicians more money +to waste? Hold on to your bank stock and arrange to have all +mortgages in the name of the bank, not in your own. They pay +taxes on their capital and surplus, not on their loans. But be +sure to get a written acknowledgment on each mortgage from +Osborne. He's square, but you can't ever tell what changes might +take place and then there might be some question about mortgages +in the bank's name." + +"Keep them in the bank's name," said Rose. + +"And a written acknowledgment," Martin stressed. + +"A written acknowledgment," she echoed. + +For probably fifteen minutes he lay without further talk; then, a +little more weariness in his voice than she had ever known +before, he began to speak again. + +"I've been thinking a great deal, Rose." There was still that new +tenderness in the manner in which he pronounced her name, that +new tone she had never heard before and which caused her to feel +a little nervous. "I've been thinking, Rose, about the years +we've lived together here on a Kansas prairie farm--" + +"It lacks just a few months of being twenty-eight years," she +added. + +"Yes, it sounds like a long time when you put it that way, but it +doesn't seem any longer than a short sigh to me lying here. I've +been thinking, Rose, how you've always got it over to me that you +loved me or could love me--" + +"I've always loved you, Martin--deeply." + +"Yes, that's what's always made me so hard with you. It would +have been far better for you if you hadn't cared for me at all. +I've never loved anybody, not even my own mother, nor Bill, nor +myself for that matter." Their eyes shifted away from each other +quickly as both thought of one other whom he did not mention. "I +wasn't made that way, Rose. Now you could love anything--lots of +women are like that, and men, too. But I wasn't. Life to me has +always been a strange world that I never got over thinking about +and trying to understand, and at the same time hustling to get +through with every day of it as fast as I could by keeping at the +only thing I knew which would make it all more bearable. There's +a lot of pain in work, but it's only of the muscles and my pain +has always been in the things I've thought about. The awful waste +and futility of it all! Take this farm--I came here when this was +hardly more than a desert. You ought to have seen how thick the +dust was the first day we got down here. And I've built up this +place. You've helped me. Bill didn't care for it--even if he had +lived, he'd never have stayed here. But you do, in spite of all +that's happened." + +"Yes, Martin, I do," she returned fervently. "It's a wonderful +monument to leave behind you--this farm is." + +His eyes grew somber. "That's what I've always thought it would +be," he answered, very low. "I've felt as if I was building +something that would last. Even the barns--they're ready to stand +for generations. But this minute, when the end is sitting at the +foot of this bed, I seem to see it all crumbling before me. You +won't stay here. Why should you --even if you do for a few years +you'll have to leave it sometime, and there's nothing that goes +to rack and ruin as quickly as a farm--even one like this." + +"Oh, Martin, don't think such thoughts," she begged. "Your fever +is coming up; I can see it." + +"What has it all been about, that's what I want to know," he went +on with quiet cynicism. "What have I been sweating +about--nothing. What is anyone's life? No more than mine. We're +all like a lot of hens in a backyard, scratching so many hours a +day. Some scratch a little deeper than those who aren't so +skilled or so strong. And when I stand off a little, it's all +alike. The end is as blind and senseless as the beginning on this +farm--drought and dust." + +Martin closed his eyes wearily and gave a deep sigh. To his +wife's quickened ears, it was charged with lingering regret for +frustrated plans and palpitant with his consciousness of life's +evanescence and of the futility of his own success. + +She waited patiently for him to continue his instructions, but +the opiates had begun to take effect and Martin lapsed into +sleep. Although he lived until the next morning, he never again +regained full consciousness. + + + +XI + +THE DUST SETTLES + +ROSE'S grief was a surprise to herself; there was no blinking the +fact that her life was going to be far more disrupted by Martin's +death than it had been by Bill's. There were other differences. +Where that loss had struck her numb, this quickened every +sensibility, drove her into action; more than that, as she +realized how much less there was to regret in the boy's life than +in his father's, how much more he had got out of his few short +years, the edge of the older, more precious sorrow, dulled. +During quite long periods she would be so absorbed in her +thoughts of Martin that Bill would not enter her mind. Was it +possible, that this husband who with his own lips had confessed +he had never loved her, had been a more integral part of herself +than the son who had adored her? What was this bond that had +roots deeper than love? Was it merely because they had grown so +used to each other that she felt as if half of her had been torn +away and buried, leaving her crippled and helpless? Probably it +would have been different if Bill had been living. Was it because +when he had died, she still had had Martin, demanding, vital, to +goad her on and give the semblance of a point to her life, and +now she was left alone, adrift? She pondered over these +questions, broodingly. + +"I suppose you'll want to sell out, Rose," Nellie's husband, Bert +Mall, big and cordial as Peter had been before him, suggested a +day or two after the funeral. "I'll try to get you a buyer, or +would you rather rent?" + +"I haven't any plans yet, Bert," Mrs. Wade had evaded adroitly, +"it's all happened so quickly. I have plenty of time and there +are lots of things to be seen to." There had been that in her +voice which had forbidden discussion, and it was a tone to which +she was forced to have recourse more than once during the +following days when it seemed to her that all her friends were in +a conspiracy to persuade her to a hasty, ill-advised upheaval. + +Nothing, she resolved, should push her from this farm or into +final decisions until a year had passed. She must have something +to which she could cling if it were nothing more than a familiar +routine. Without that to sustain and support her, she felt she +could never meet the responsibilities which had suddenly +descended, with such a terrific impact, upon her shoulders. + +In an inexplicable way, these new burdens, her black dress--the +first silk one since the winter before Billy came--and the +softening folds of her veil, all invested her with a new and +touching majesty that seemed to set her a little apart from her +neighbors. + +Nellie had been frankly scandalized at the idea of mourning. +"Nobody does that out here--exceptin' during the services," she +had said sharply to her daughter-in-law when Rose had told her of +the hasty trip she and her aunt had made to the largest town in +the county. "Folks'll think it's funny and kind o' silly. You +oughtn't to have encouraged it." + +"Oh, Mother Mall, I didn't especially," the younger woman had +protested. "She just said in that quiet, settled way she has, +that she was going to--she thought it would be easier for her. +And I believe it will, too," she added, feeling how pathetic it +was that Aunt Rose had never looked half so well during Uncle +Martin's life as she had since his death. + +"Oh, well," Mall commented, "Rose always was sort of sentimental, +but there's not many like her. She's right to take her time, too. +It'll be six or eight months, anyway, before she can get things +lined up. She's got a longer head than a body'd think for. Look +at the way she run that newspaper office when old Conroy died." + +"That was nearly thirty years ago," commented his wife crisply, +"and Rose's got so used to being bossed around by Martin that +she'll find it ain't so easy to go ahead on her own." + +With her usual shrewdness, Nellie had surmised the chief +difficulty, but it dwindled in real importance because of the +fact that Rose so frequently had the feeling that Martin merely +had gone on a journey and would come home some day, expecting an +exact accounting of her stewardship. His instructions were to her +living instructions which must be carried out to the letter. + +She had attended with conscientious promptness to checking the +trouble that had brought about his death. "I promised Mr. Wade it +should be the first thing," she had explained to Dr. Hurton. +'You'll let it be the first thing, won't you?' Those were his +very words. He depended on us, Doctor." + +When the time came to plan definitely for the disposal of the +purebred herd, she went herself to Topeka to arrange details with +Baker. She was constantly thinking: "Now, what would Martin say +to this?" or "Would he approve of that?" And her conclusions were +reached accordingly. The sale itself was an event that was +discussed in Fallon County for years afterwards. The hotel was +crowded with out-of-town buyers. Enthused by the music from two +bands, even the local people bid high, and through it all, Rose, +vigilant, remembered everything Martin would have wanted +remembered. She felt that even he would have been satisfied with +the manner in which the whole transaction was handled, and with +the financial results. + +She began to take a new pleasure in everything, the nervous +pleasure one takes when going through an experience for what may +be the last time. The threshing--how often she had toiled and +sweated over those three days of dinners and suppers for +twenty-two men. Now she recalled, with an aching tightness about +her heart, how delicious had been her relaxation, when, the +dinner dishes washed, the table reset and the kitchen in +scrupulous order with the last fly vanquished, she and Nellie had +luxuriated in that exquisite sense of leisure that only women +know who have passed triumphantly through a heavy morning's work +and have everything ready for the evening. Later there had been +the stroll down to the field in the shade of the waning +afternoon, to find out what time the men would be in for supper; +and the sheer delight of breathing in the pungent smell of the +straw as it came flying from the funnel, looking, with the +sinking sun shining through it, like a million bees swarming from +a hive, while the red-brown grain gushed, a lush stream, into the +waiting wagon. + +"It always makes me think of a ship sailing into port, Nellie," +Rose had once exclaimed, "the crop coming in. It gives me a queer +kind of giddiness, makes me feel like laughing and crying all at +once," to which her sister-in-law had returned with more than her +usual responsiveness: "Yes, it's the most excitin' time of the +year, unless it's Christmas." + +More nebulous were the memories of those early mornings when she +had paused in the midst of getting breakfast to sniff in the +clover-laden air and think how wonderful it would be if only she +needn't stay in the hot, stuffy kitchen but could be free to call +Bill and go picnicking or loaf deliciously under one of the big +elms. Most precious of all--the evenings she and her boy had sat +in the yard, with the cool south breeze blowing up from the +pasture, the cows looking on placidly, the frogs fluting +rhythmically in the pond, the birds chirping their good-night +calls, and the dip and swell of the farm land pulling at them +like a haunting tune, almost too lovely to be endured. Oh, there +had been moments all the sweeter and more poignant because they +had been so fleeting. + +As she passed successfully through one whole round of planting, +harvesting and garnering of grain, she began to realize her own +ability and to be tempted more and more seriously to remain on +the farm. She understood it, and Martin would have liked her to +run it. If it had not been for the problem of keeping dependable +hired hands and the sight of the mine-tipple, which, towering on +the adjoining farm, reminded her more and more constantly of +Bill, she would not even have considered the offer of Gordon +Hamilton, one of Fallon's leading business men, to buy her whole +section. + +"There's a bunch going into this deal, together, Rose," Bert Mall +explained. "They want to run a new branch of their street car +line straight through here and they're going to plat this quarter +into streets and lots. The rest they'll split up into several +farms and rent for the present. It's a speculation, of course, +but the way the mines are moving north and west it's likely +this'll be a thickly settled camp in another two or three years." + +"But they only offer seventy-five an acre," Rose expostulated, +"and it's worth more than that as farm land. There's none around +here as fertile as Martin made this--and then, all the +improvements!" + +"They'll have to dispose of them second-hand. It's a pity they're +in exactly the wrong spot. Well, of course, I'm not advising you, +Rose," he added, "but forty-five thousand ain't to be sneezed at, +is it, when it comes in a lump and you own only the surface? You +may wait a long while before you get another such bid. Seems to +me you've worked hard enough. I'd think you'd want a rest." + +In the end, Mrs. Wade capitulated to what, as Martin had foreseen +so clearly, was sooner or later inevitable. She was a little +stunned by the vast amount of available money now in her +possession and at her disposal. "But it's all dust in my hands," +she thought sadly. "What do I want of so much? It's going to be a +terrible worry. I don't even know who to leave it to," and she +sighed deeply, pressing her hands, with her old, characteristic +gesture, to her heart. Everybody would approve, she supposed, if +she left it to Rose and Frank--her niece and Martin's nephew--but +she couldn't quite bring herself to welcome that idea--not yet. +And anyway it might be better to divide it among more people, so +that it would bring more happiness. + +Her own needs were simple. The modest five-room house which she +purchased was set on a pleasant paved street in Fallon and was +obviously ample for her. She hoped that during part of each year +she could rent the extra bed-room to some one, preferably a boy, +like Bill, who was attending high school. There was a barn for +her horse and the one cow she would keep, a neat little +chicken-house for the twenty-five hens that would more than +supply her with eggs and summer fries, and a small garage for +Martin's car. It would seem very strange, she thought, to have so +few things to care for and she wondered how she would fill her +time, she whose one problem always had been how to achieve +snatches of leisure. She saw herself jogging on and on, gradually +getting to be less able on her feet, a little more helpless, +until she was one of those feeble old ladies who seem at the very +antipodes of the busy mothers they have been in their prime. How +could it be that she who had always been in such demand, so +needed, so driven by real duties, should have become suddenly +such a supernumerary, so footloose, and unattached? + +But when it came to that, wasn't Fallon full of others in the +same circumstances? It was not an uncommon lot. There was Mrs. +McMurray. Rose remembered over what a jolly household she had +reigned before she, too, had lost her husband and three children +instead of just one, like Billy. Two of them had been grown and +married. Now she was living in a little cottage, all alone, doing +sewing and nursing, yet always so brave and cheerful; not only +that, but interested, really interested in living. And Mrs. +Nelson. Her children were living and married and happy, but she +had given up her home, sold it--the pretty place with the +hospitable yard that used to seem to be fairly spilling over with +wholesome, boisterous boys and chatty, beribboned little girls. +She was rooming with a family, taking her meals at a restaurant, +keeping up her zest in tomorrow by running a shop. She thought of +how her friend, Mrs. Robinson, gracious, democratic woman of wide +sympathies that she was, had lived alone after David Robinson's +death, taking his place as president of the bank, during the +years her only daughter, Janet, had been off at college and later +travelling around the country "on the stage"--of all things for a +daughter of Fallon. When hadn't the town been full of these +widowed, elderly women made childless alike by life and by death? +What others had met successfully, she could also, she told +herself sternly, and still the old Rose, still struggling toward +happiness, she tried to think with a little enthusiasm of her new +life, of the things she would do for others. One recreation she +would be able to enjoy to her heart's content when she moved into +town--the movies. They would tide her over, she felt gratefully. +When she was too lonely, she would go to them and shed her own +troubles and problems by absorption in those of others. She who +had been married for years and had borne two children without +ever having had the joy of one overwhelming kiss, would find +romance at last, for an hour, as she identified herself with the +charming heroines of the films. + +She was to surrender the farm and the crops as they stood in +June, but as there was to be no new immediate tenant in her old +house it was easily arranged that she could continue in it until +the cottage in Fallon would be empty in September. + +Meanwhile, preparations were begun for the new car line which +would pass where the big dairy barn was standing. As the latter +went down, board by board, it seemed to Mrs. Wade that this +structure which, in the building, had been the sign and symbol of +her surrender and heartbreak, now in its destruction, typified +Martin's life. It was as if Martin, himself, were being torn limb +from limb. All that he had built would soon be dust. The sound of +the cement breaking under the heavy sledges, was almost more than +she could bear. It was a relief to have the smaller buildings +dragged bodily to other parts of the farm. + +Only once before in her memory had there been such a summer and +such a drought. The corn leaves burned to a crisp brown, the +ground cracked and broke into cakes and dust piled high in thick, +velvety folds on weeds and grass. It seemed too strange for words +to see others harvest the wheat and to know that the usual crop +could not be put in. + +Rose was thankful when her last evening came. Most of her +furniture had been moved in the morning, her boxes had left in +the afternoon, and the last little accessories were now piled in +the car. As, hand on the wheel, she paused a moment before +starting, she was conscious of a choking sensation. It was over, +finished--she, the last of Martin, was leaving it, for good. +Before her rolled the quarter section, except for the little +box-house, as bare of fences and buildings as when the Wades had +first camped on it in their prairie schooner. With what strange +prophetic vision had Martin foreseen so clearly that all the +construction of his life would crumble. Would Jacob and Sarah +Wade have had the courage to make all their sacrifices, she +wondered, if they had known that she and she alone, daughter of a +Patrick and Norah Conroy, whom they had never seen, would some +day stand there profiting by it all? She thought of the mortgages +in the bank and the bonds, of the easier life she seemed to be +entering. How strange that she whom Grandfather and Grandmother +Wade had not even known, she whom Martin had never loved, should +be the one to reap the real benefits from their planning, and +that the farm itself, for which her husband had been willing to +sacrifice Billy and herself, should be utterly destroyed. A +sudden breeze caught up some of the dust and whirling it around +let it fall. "Martin's life," thought Rose, "it was like a +handful of dust thrown into God's face and blown back again by +the wind to the ground." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of Dust by Mr. And Mrs. Haldeman-Julius + diff --git a/old/dsthj10.zip b/old/dsthj10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6be8884 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/dsthj10.zip |