Prescient shadows darkened her appealing eyes, as she bent to press her cool cheek against the rosy one of her companion, and drew her out upon the wide, latticed piazza at the rear of the house.
"She asked that I should stay with you until you married, or were twenty-one years old; but, my baby, I need you far more than you need me. You are my heart, and you know it; and I shall be away from you as little as possible; nevertheless I must not neglect my own patches and pastures. By the by, that Jersey heifer you gave me ought to be registered. What would be a pretty name, easy to call? One that matches her in beauty will be hard to find."
"Her profile entitles her to a classical name, but the appropriateness of its significance must be observed. As 'Hecuba' she would feel in duty bound to add nineteen to your herd."
"No, indeed. That is a mouthful of stuttering ugliness."
"'Persephone' rolls softly, like the long swell of a foamless wave settling to rest—but then you could expect no pearly horned progeny, and she might spend her days lowing for her mother. The prettiest short names are already in the herd books. 'Antiope?' She would not take good care of her calves. You don't like mythology because it is pagan, and when I pleaded with you that your cat should be 'Hebe' you turned up your little nose and labelled her 'Delilah.' Such a consistent saint! You prefer Old Testament wickedness to heathen purity. Suppose you compromise on 'Doucette,' and then you can feel sure she will neither kick nor gore."
"If that is the best you can suggest, I shall just suit myself and call her Patricia of Nutwood."
"Madrecita, you can not. It is pre-empted. The mother of our herd was imported from St. Helier by my grandfather, when she was only eight months old, and he registered her in his own herd book, 'Patricia of Nutwood.' Mr. Boynton showed me an old leather-bound copy last winter, when I signed several transfers."
"Then the next best for my brown satin beauty is 'Noela,' in honor of Mr. Herriott."
"I am racked by jealousy that you should overlook the liquid brevity of 'Eglahtina' or 'Eglahkentana.' Let us sit here on the steps, where we can enjoy our leafy canopy. Could anything be more beautiful?"
She threw back her head and looked up. In front of the steps two lines of very old elm trees marked the limits of a walk leading through the "back yard" to the vegetable garden. On each row, planted opposite, white wistaria had been trained so carefully that as the lower lateral elm branches were cut away to keep the arch intact, the vines climbed higher until now, the top boughs of the trees having met, all along the walls and across the pale-green dome of elm leaves swung long, drooping spikes of snowy bloom, amid the olive-tinted wistaria foliage.
"I never saw anything so lovely in Italy," said Eliza, stroking Delilah, and straightening the blue bow on the cat's neck.
"We came too late last spring for the bloom, and we have not seen this living ceiling for so many years. When I was at college I used to shut my eyes and recall it just as we left it. My little 'sundown supper' table on the square of matting yonder, you sitting on the bottom step crocheting mats, grandmother, so tall and thin, walking up and down the side flower garden over there, gathering rose leaves for the big blue china rose jar in the drawing-room, old Hector following her like a lean shadow, and King Herod spreading his tail till I threw him bread crumbs. How often I longed for one of my 'sundown' suppers—my bowl of hominy and cream, my cup of milk, the tea cakes and ginger pone, and blackberry jam. The smell of cloves and cinnamon, and the taste thereof!"
Watching her face, relaxed in dreamy retrospection, Mrs. Mitchell asked:
"Where is Mr. Herriott?"
Without removing her eyes from the long wistaria plumes waving overhead, she answered in a colder tone:
"When father heard last, he was in Norway, but since then I read an account of a dinner given to the party of which he was a member, by a geographical society in London."
"You have received no letter?"
"None recently, and I do not expect any."
"Because you do not deserve any. I am so disappointed in him."
"In what respect? I imagined that in your eyes, as in father's, he was simply perfect."
"He is capable of something far better than lounging through life with his hands in his pockets, and loafing around the world. If he could only have the good luck to lose his money, he might accomplish what God makes such men for."
"He is not an idle tramp. He is kept busy dancing attendance on his exacting bride."
"Bride!" exclaimed Mrs. Mitchell, with such startling shrillness that Delilah sprang out of her lap and surveyed her with astonishment.
"Not a bride of pink flesh, on whom he can bestow collars of diamonds, but an old dame of hoary locks, whose harsh jargon he considers musical, and who, having taken his purse and tied him to her apron strings, drags him from the bowels of the earth to the mountains of the moon, amusing him with photographs of microbes and eclipses, and with prehistoric skeletons that her relentless horny claws have stolen from their lawful graves. Long ago he was wedded to 'Science,' and of course he keeps his bridal vows."
"I am sure you do not fully understand him, and I wonder he did not marry Miss Stanley; she is so lovely, and he certainly admired her."
"She is indeed a luscious beauty, and attracted him, but if he really had any serious intentions, I think she lost him that night when the alarm of fire emptied the theatre. Ours was a proscenium box in the second tier. Eleanor Stanley had dined with Captain Sefton's sister, he was her escort, and I went with Mr. Herriott. Of course you know all about the horrible tragedy, but I never told any one what preceded it. Toward the end, and while the curtain was down, Captain Sefton so far forgot himself as to repeat an unpardonablyrisquestory of a smart set leader, at which Eleanor laughed heartily. I stared at my bouquet of orchids, and lifted them to shield my face where I felt the blood. Without moving an eyelash Mr. Noel sat like a sphinx, looking steadily at Eleanor, then took my opera glass and watched a party of pretty girls in the dress circle. His face was as absolutely impassive as one of the masks frescoed on the ceiling. In the middle of the next and closing act, a scream from the rear of the stage startled us, and almost simultaneously two of the ballet girls rushed from behind the wings, with fire blazing in their short, gauzy skirts. One ran to the corner of the stage just under our box, and the actors fled from her. Mr. Herriott put his hand heavily on my shoulder.
"Do not move an inch till I come."
He snatched his overcoat and my velvet opera cloak, stepped on the railing of the box, measured the distance with his eye and leaped down. He struck on his feet, and staggered, but the next instant he reached the girl, who ran shrieking up and down, caught her, threw my cloak over her head, pressed her to the floor, covered her with his overcoat, and rolled her over and over as if she were a ball. Of course she was horribly burned, but she lived. The other poor creature kept her hands before her face as a screen from the flames, missed her footing, stumbled over the footlights and fell among the orchestra chairs. The musicians smothered the flames, but she died after two hours of torture. Mr. Herriott's gloves saved his hands, but one wrist was badly blistered, and his mustache singed. When we were going home I told him how enthusiastically Eleanor admired and praised his bravery, and that she declared she would strive to win his affection were he not so 'goody-goody'; she feared he would expect her to be equally pious. A queer expression I could not understand crossed his face, and when he spoke his voice was stern:
"'I am not pious; more is the pity! At least I am too honest to accept praise I do not deserve. Please be so kind as not to refer again to this evening, several surprising incidents of which I shall be glad to forget.' A few days later he sent to replace my scorched velvet, that gorgeous ivory satin opera cloak brocaded with lilies in silver, which father and you wished me to accept, and I based my refusal on his request, as the mere sight of it would inevitably remind him of a night neither of us wished to recall. Look yonder."
"Yes; there must be a picket off that white game yard fence, for I am positive I fastened the gate this morning. Run on ahead and open the gate wide, for when they are driven back they never can find the crack where they came out. That white rooster is all ruffled up for a fight with the red one. Scare the hens back and stand on one side."
When the fugitives had been shut in, the two women stood admiring the flock.
"Dearie, do you know how old these chickens are? Forty years before railroads were built in this state, your grandfather brought them in a champagne basket on the top of a stage-coach from somewhere in Maryland, and the person who gave them to him had imported them from England forty years before. Think of it!"
"I do, with astonishment difficult to express. More than eighty years old, and no sign of decrepitude in crowing, fighting and laying eggs! Little mother, what aretarrididdles?"
Laughing, she put her hands on Eliza's shoulder and shook her gently. The little woman pinched her ear.
"Don't talk slang to me. You know I did not mean these very identical fowls are those that came in the champagne basket, but the original trio, two hens and a cock, were kept in a separate yard, and so the stock has remained pure game for more than forty years. They are such beauties, and to the last day of her life your grandmother was so proud and fond of them. One morning when we were feeding them she told me how General Maurice had laughed over the cunning of one of the negroes whose duty it was to attend to the fowl yards. The general had promised a setting of eggs to a friend in a neighboring county, and ordered the man to bring him one dozen perfectly fresh. The negro protested against a violation of the rule that no one else should own the white games, so that if stolen they could be traced. His master insisted, and when the eggs were handed to him he packed them very carefully in cotton, to prevent jostling, and sent them to his friend. Some time afterward, a letter reached your grandfather, informing him none of the eggs had hatched, and he called the man and read the letter to him.
"'Narry aigg hatched? Well, I made sure they couldn't, for I am 'sponsible for keeping dem chickens safe at home and I 'tends to my bizness. You see, marster, I knowed you was in a mighty tight fix, 'cause natchelly you hated to say no when Dr. Glenn axed for 'em, and most natchelly you didn't want our yaller-breasted, brass-winged white games crowing in other folks' yards, and so I just pintedly shuck 'em and shuck 'em like thunder, till they was foamy enough for Celie's omlet skillet.'"
If owners of old manorial houses kept frank and faithful log-books, strange domestic records might now and then be read, rivalling in tragic incidents those of passing ships. Conspicuously infelicitous was the stream of events beating against Calvary House and reducing an ancient, broad estate and handsome three-storied brick residence to a few impoverished acres, and a rambling structure partly destroyed by fire, and wholly abandoned to vacancy and isolation in consequence of grewsome gossip. During eighty years the proprietorship had been vested in only two families, totally unrelated; in the first, the reckless extravagance and unbridled careers of four beautiful women depleted the domestic coffer, necessitated the sacrifice and sale of the property, and drove a weakly indulgent father to suicide. In the second the vices of sons plunged the widowed mother into melancholia and an insane asylum.
From time to time portions of land were sold to enable the boys to continue their wild carousals. Fratricidal strife ensued, and one brother spent the dismal residue of his days in the penitentiary, expiating the murder of the other. The vicious round of horse-racing, cock-fighting, fox-hunting, gambling and drinking once madly run had ended in the final wreck, and what remained of the estate fell into the hands of Mr. Herriott's father, whose agent held the mortgage. Sufficiently grim was the foundation of facts; yet still more appalling the superstructure of neighborhood traditions, and the ghoulish tales of superstitious servants. Venerable trees, whose sheltering arms might have veiled the ruin, had been over-grown by mistletoe, until very few survived to stand guard, and when a hunter crept with his pointer through broom-sedge waist high all over the lawn, his cigar spark set the whole aflame, and only two fine old oaks close to the house were left as sentinels. Later, a lightning bolt destroyed one; two years after, an equinoctial gale blew the other half across the mossy roof. Stark, weather beaten, its broken windows like eyeless sockets in a skull, the old house, dumb in desolation, stood in dire need of the mercies of bell, candle, censer, and aspergill to exorcise its garrison of unholy spectres. Five years after the place had been given by Noel Herriott to the "Brothers of the Order of Calvary," lime, paint, wallpaper, patient toil and a wise appreciation of the adaptability of angles, corridors, dormer windows and verandas, in architectural alterations, had transformed it into a quaintly irregular but picturesque structure. Outside mouldy walls were curtained with ampelopsis lace, while from a circular belfry between the original square rock chimneys, a deep-toned bell swung below a tall gilt cross, and uttered its holy message of peace to a troubled and tragic past. The basement had been converted into a refectory, kitchen and store room, the large apartments were partitioned into individual cells, and an infirmary; and the long drawing-room became a chapel, with a small oratory adjoining. Here a pipe organ sounded through the arch leading into the chapel, and over this opening a purple curtain fell when service ended. Beyond and in line with the oratory, a one-story wing with a wide cloistered piazza looked toward the rear of the house, and held a sacristy; then three small chambers fronting the vine-draped cloister behind whose arches paced, book in hand, fathers, brothers and lay brothers.
In the early stages of the era of renovation the place had resembled an industrial farm rather than a religious retreat; but gradually, as orchard and vineyard were replanted, gardens outlined and cultivated, a solemn, peaceful silence enveloped Calvary House, broken by no ruder sounds than Angelus, chants from the chapel, low-swelling organ tones, and that peculiarly sweet, thrilling threnody of hedge sparrows moaning in a ragged thicket of very old lilacs. Along the front of the sloping lawn a fence divided it from the turnpike leading into the city, and over the wide wooden gate sprang an arch bearing in black letters, Calvary House, and surmounted by a cross. From the gate latch swung the porter's bell.
Since the day when, standing at an open grave close to Leighton's mound in Evergreen, Father Temple had read the committal service as his wife's coffin was lowered, and pronounced the farewell benediction, the springs of his busy life seemed to have broken. Max Harlberg and the few who had followed the hearse, stole away, leaving the priest on his knees. Later, as stars came out to guard the hosts of sleepers, a watchman found him prone on the damp mound, and in a heavy stupor. An ambulance carried him to the nearest hospital, where he rallied slowly from an attack of pneumonia that left his lungs too weak to permit the possibility of preaching, and the doctors warned him a year's rest was imperative. Engagements for "missions" and "retreats" were cancelled, and his superior summoned him home, but after a few days advised him to go South and visit his relatives in Y—— until the winds of March had blown out their fury. On his return, still thin and wan, he resumed his duties, and from Prime to Compline missed no service. After Vespers, the tolling of theDe Profundisbell called all to their knees in silent prayer for the dead, and his bowed head was always the last lifted. How much penance was self-imposed none knew, but a change had come into the habitually sad face; keen mental strife, devouring anxiety, were at an end, and the large dark eyes told of an inward patience that was not yet peace, of an acceptance of the verdict that his life spelled hopeless failure. So marked was the alteration in figure and features, that one sunny day at Calvary House, as Mr. Herriott grasped his hand, he was painfully startled.
"Vernon! You are little more than a holy shadow! If starving is the regimen prescribed here, I do not feel tempted to tarry even for a day."
"Noel—God bless you, dear old fellow! At last you have remembered us, and how well you look! The bare sight of your superb strength is tonic. Come into the chapel. Terce bell is sounding. After a little the Brotherhood will greet you."
Under the guidance of Father Superior Elverton, a gaunt man of unusual height, with the ascetic jaw of a Trappist, and dreamy eyes mystical as Hugo of St. Victor, Mr. Herriott was shown fields, garden and buildings, and after dinner in the refectory, where, in honor of his presence, conversation was allowed, he asked the privilege of being left alone with Father Temple. It was a warm day, and drawing chairs to a shaded recess of the cloister, Mr. Herriott said:
"I am so glad the weather favored me to-day for this visit. It will rain soon."
"No; look at that deep blue, clear sky. I see no prophecy of rain, but you have tried so many climates, doubtless you are weather wise."
"If a man who has slept often in tents, open boats and on the bare ground learns nothing of nature's atmospheric signal code, he is far below savages in intelligence, and more ignorant than brutes. You of the shut-in clan are not skilled meteorologists, but time is too precious to be wasted in idle weather chat. Vernon, there is much I should like to know, yet I shrink from questioning you. Many letters have been lost, and my home news came in snatches, sometimes with no connection, no coherence. I have thought of you constantly, and now what you are willing to tell me of all that has happened since we parted in New York that Sunday night, I shall be glad to hear."
Leaning his elbow on the brick base of an arch and bowing his head in his palm, Father Temple narrated the circumstances that attended the death of his wife and son, withholding nothing. His muffled voice was steady and passionless, as if reading from the breviary, and when the face lifted it showed only the quiet hopelessness in eyes of one going back over a battle-field where all that was cherished went down.
"Thank you, Temple. It might have been worse, and at least you must be comforted in knowing that at the last she relented and did you justice."
"The last has become first. All that preceded it I have cast away, and that final hour of forgiveness, that touch on my head—that feeble clinging of her fingers—is what remains of my past life—what sustains me for the future."
"Try to avoid morbid retrospection. Your expiation has been so complete you have no grounds for self-reproach; you are still a young man, and your life work is ahead of you."
The priest threw out one hand, and his trained tone broke suddenly.
"Expiation will never end while I have breath to pray—not until the same grave that holds my victims covers me. You can not understand, because you know no more about love than the rubric! If you had ever felt your wife's lips on yours, or the clasp of your child's arms, and heard his glad, tender cry of 'father!'—you would realize that no expiation could be sufficient, if your hand had smitten them to ruin."
"Perhaps I do understand the torture more thoroughly than you imagine, and you must allow me to say that were I as sadly circumstanced as yourself, I should set my back to the past, and resolutely hunt for sunshine in coming years. Deliberate, intentional villainy was never your sin, and for a foolish boy's rash haste you did everything possible to atone. I shall be sorry to see you so unmanly as to sink down in the mildew of an abject melancholy. Your surroundings invite morbid memories, and just here, Vernon, let me say I do not like your refectory. It is dark, damp, mouldy, and you must make a change. I should enjoy breakfasting in the catacombs quite as much. Ask your superior to estimate the cost of building a refectory on this floor, say to the left yonder, and perhaps the matter may be arranged satisfactorily. Another bell! What office comes next?"
"That is to notify us 'free time' is over for the day. We have an hour in which to employ ourselves without direction. Below the vegetable garden Brother Theodore comes from his pet strawberry bed, and over yonder, what looks like a huge black bird with flapping white wings is Brother Aristide dusting the leaves of his grapevines with some insecticide powder. He came from Burgundy, and believes that ledge behind the line of cherry trees lying south-southeast will give him Chambertin equal to the best in Côte d'Or. You see even here each trundles his recreation hoop once a day."
An east wind had spun fine silver cloud lines curving across the blue, clustering, widening into two vast, fleecy pinions that were floating slowly to the gates of the west. Despite sunshine, chilliness edged the air, and Father Temple coughed hoarsely.
"Your reverence should not stay here next winter. It is too humid. As the crow flies and the wind sweeps, the Atlantic can not be more than twenty miles away, and when northeast gales howl from Barnegat to Hatteras, this is no sanatorium for you. If you have no special preference for tuberculosis, and have not vowed slow suicide on that altar, I should be glad if you would select some other mode of exit when you finally say good-bye. Consumption robbed me of my father—I hope I shall not lose my friend also thereby."
The priest smiled, and laid his thin hand on his companion's knee.
"In many characteristics we differ so widely, I have often wondered that you care at all for me."
"You were so honest and fearless and manly when we met at college. You showed such genuine pluck in that hazing scandal, so much quiet, heroic magnanimity when the official investigation followed. Vernon, for God's sake, wake up! You have talent; don't doze like a toad under a stone wall. Come out of shadows that paralyze you, and try to make your mark in the world of letters. I do not wish to change my——"
He paused and frowned. A flush tinged Father Temple's sallow cheek.
"You do not wish to consider me unmanly now?"
"That is exactly it, and if you force me to do so I swear I never will forgive you. Don't brood and mope. Go back to Plato and Horace—they are the best brooms for cloistral cobwebs—and promise me you will not stay here next winter."
"My cousin Allison Kent and Eglah insist I shall spend December and January with them, in Y——, and since I am forbidden to preach at present, I may accept the invitation. I was there on a brief visit several months ago."
"Tell me about them. It has been long since I heard directly."
"The judge has grown extremely stout, and says he enjoys the lazy leisure of Southern life among the opulent, but he seemed restless and abstracted, and was often absent on fishing excursions. Eglah perplexes me. She is graver, more reticent, and far more beautiful, but reminds me of a person walking in troubled sleep, determined, yet vaguely apprehensive. At times it occurred to me that her relations with her father were not as tenderly cordial as I remembered in the Washington life; he never caressed her, and she seemed in a certain degree aloof, but her careful deference in manner and speech was exquisite. She told me his retirement from a senatorial position was the supreme disappointment of her life, and her chief solace now is the preparation of a volume of his speeches, prefaced by a biographical sketch she intends to write. I think her father is very unpopular with the majority of old families in Y——, who will never forgive his course while Federal judge, and as they represent the best social element, conditions beyond her control have embarrassed Eglah, but she gives no hint and fronts the situation with admirable cool calmness."
Leaning back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, Mr. Herriott seemed to watch the narrowing circles of a hawk beneath which three frantic pigeons dashed aimlessly round and round, and in the final swift swoop one white bird disappeared in a vanishing brown shadow.
"You have lost a pigeon."
"We have none. The lay brothers complain of their depredations in the garden, and sometimes trap those that belong in the city, but they are always carried off and set free."
"Vernon, why does not your cousin Eglah marry Roger Hull? He is as nearly worthy of her as any man she will ever meet; he is eminently good looking, bright, a spirited debater, and as it is said he carries the votes of his district in his vest pocket, he has an assured political position where she could gratify her ambition. If he lives he will sit in the Senate. He was very devoted in his attentions. Is he still loyal?"
"No. I hear he is reported engaged to a pretty girl in Washington, whose father is a naval officer. Certainly Eglah does not lack beaux. She has very fine horses, rides daily, and one of her most frequent escorts was a Dr. Burbridge, very handsome and a specialist in neurology. I don't know Hull, but he has been twice to Nutwood since Eglah came back from Europe, and Cousin Allison said that she froze him so completely on his last visit that he gave up the chase, and consoled himself with a more responsive charmer. If political life allures her, Hull certainly offered an attractive opportunity, but I am sure her father did not favor that suit, and as her ambition was more for his preferment than from any personal fondness for a congressional career, she will soon cease to regret, and find contentment in her lovely surroundings."
"I am afraid not. Pardon the simile—but take a thoroughbred filly raised and trained on the race track, and when she is champing her bit, trembling for the signal to start, lead her aside, shut her in a pasture, fasten her to a plough trace, or harness her with a mule on the other side of a wagon-tongue, and do you wonder the load comes to grief, or the furrows are crooked when she sees the racers flash by, and hears the rush of hoofs, the roar of cheering thousands? Eglah knows what she wants, and disdains compromise. The present environment suits her as little as a stagnant millpond would a yacht cup challenger."
"I wish she could marry happily, but the day I came away we stood at the front steps and I told her I hoped I might have the privilege of performing the ceremony, if during my life she consented to make some man happy. The judge laughed and tapped me on the shoulder. 'I will see you get that wedding fee. When you are needed I shall telegraph you.' She stepped a little closer to him, put her hands behind her, and looked at him with strange intentness; then turning to me she said, with singular emphasis: 'I shall never marry. As I have been baptized, only one more ceremony can be performed for me, and if Ma-Lila does not insist upon a Methodist minister, I promise that you shall pronounce 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust'—when mother earth takes me back to her heart.'
"Just then Mrs. Mitchell dropped her basket, and the clatter of keys and scissors broke the strain, which I could not understand. But Eglah's eyes recalled something I have not thought of for years. Do you recollect a picture of the Norns we saw that summer we walked through Wales?"
"Three figures, one veiled? We could not find out who painted it, but I never shall forget the wonderful eyes of Urd."
"They looked at me again that day in Nutwood. The expression was as inscrutable as the smile of Mona Lisa—not defiance, nor yet renunciation, neither scorn nor bitterness, but deathless pride and a pain so hopeless no sound could voice it."
There was a brief silence, broken by the muffled chanting in the chapel, and Mr. Herriott's hands were gripped so tight behind his head the nails were purple, but his face showed no emotion, and when he spoke his tone betrayed only quiet sympathy.
"For many years I have associated her with a passage in Jeremiah: 'As a speckled bird, the birds round about are against her.'' Poor little speckled bird, beating out her life. Battling alone against a host of hawks is dreary work."
"I suppose you are going to Y——?"
"No, I must get back home. I have been away too long. My poor faithful Susan is dead."
"I hope you are tired of globe-trotting, and ready to anchor yourself at your own fireside."
"As yet I have made no definite plans; have been considering two recent offers. One is the presidency of a great railroad system—a position I might possibly fit myself to occupy if I went into the machine shops and roundhouses and worked hard for the next five years. It happens that the shares and bonds of one short but very important line which my father practically owned when the middle West was comparatively undeveloped, have appreciated enormously, and now that road is the link absolutely necessary to the contemplated consolidation of a new route that will touch the Pacific. I cabled my refusal to sell out, and the next bait was the presidency. Mr. Stadmeyer and I have controlling interests and our views accord. Two days ago we had a meeting, at which I declined office, and we leased our road for thirty years. That relieved me from one horn of the dilemma; the other still threatens. A Polar expedition will be ready next year, and I have been asked to take a place aboard ship."
"Noel, I beg of you, dismiss that thought. Of all scientific follies, that Pole-hunting mania is the wildest, the most indefensible. To add your bleaching bones to the cairns heaped on the eternal ice altar of Polar night is no ambition worthy of you. Don't think me childish, but the sight of you is such a comfort I could not bear to have you risk your life searching for mares' nests so far away."
Mr. Herriott laughed—a genial, hearty, deep-chested sound rarely heard in cloisters.
"Get rid of that cough, and I will take you along as chaplain to christen the Pole—presumably it is pagan at present. I wish you would go down to New Mexico or Arizona and make a sensible effort to build up your constitution, which seems suing you for damages. Leave medicine and the breviary in your cell, and lie under the stars and inhale that wonderful, healing air. When you wish to pray go down into the Grand Cañon, you will find you can succeed without needing a book to help you. In that sky verily 'the heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth His handiwork.' Mission work, and to spare, would interest you at a Moqui Pueblo, and I can recommend one whose primeval, idyllic repose dwells in my memory like an eclogue of Virgil's. It is spread over the crown and sides of a precipice where terraces tilt their outer edges upward to prevent water from draining the little gardens. Masonry-lined cisterns gleam under moonlight like molten silver, sheep and goats bleat in their stone enclosures, a frieze of kids runs below the cornice of brown cupids drowsing on the wall, and all about the mesa a pink cloud of blooming peach trees and a yellow mist of acacias. Weigh this cure scheme, discuss it in Sanhedrim, and if you think favorably of it let me hear from you before October, as I have several friends among ranchmen, and some of the Moquis have not forgotten me."
"Do you intend to settle down now at your lake-shore house?"
"Yes, for the present. I have been invited to write for two scientific magazines, and one of the subjects suggested rather appeals to me—a comparison of the fiords of Norway with those of Alaska and British Columbia, but I have not fully decided. However, I am committed to help Chalcott verify numerous citations from Strabo's tenth book, relative to Crete, and I must brush up my classics. Chalcott is sanguine of 'great finds' around the site of ancient Knossos in the near future. He has been stung by the Pelasgian bee, and I have promised to hunt and copy some passages from Strabo."
He took his hat from the floor and rose.
"Now I must say good-bye to father superior and the brethren."
"We hoped you would spend at least one night with us, in the room we have named and set apart for you."
"I must get back to Philadelphia in time for a meeting to-morrow of stockholders and directors of our railroad. Mr. Stadmeyer requested me to attend, though he is really our watchdog. Don't delay the refectory improvements, and since you are all so good as to give me a special penitential apartment, I wish you would brighten it up with a cheerful paper, and allow me the privilege of sending some human derelict to anchor here in peace. God knows, there are fleets of souls adrift, and I should be glad if, for my sake, you can tow some into the snug harbor of my cell, until the day comes when my sins culminate and force me here for penance."
When the two walked down to the outer gate, the contrast between the virile athlete and the shadowy black form of the priest was pathetically vivid.
The busy shuttles of the east wind had spread their cirrus laces even along the western horizon where the sun had vanished, and the sky was one huge arching shell enamelled with mother-of-pearl, as the cloudlets burned in the after-glow.
"Vernon, don't look back. You have balanced your books with the past. Dear old fellow, I wish to think of you as fulfilling the rich promise of our college days."
"Assure me you will give up that Arctic whim. The thought of it distresses me."
"Do not worry about me. The expedition could not be ready to start for at least a year, and by that time I may not need to go. Sir John Franklin's ghost may chat with mine and tell me all the secrets of the Pole, which doubtless he discovered when Arctic ice claimed his body."
He laughed, they shook hands, and parted.
At a bend in the road he turned, looked back and waved his hat to the watching figure standing under the gilt cross, and silhouetted in sharp lines against the opal dome of the west.
"Little mother, the weather is so lovely I really ought to drive with you to Dairy Dingle, instead of letting you go in that dusty, stuffy car; but you will not wait, and you know I have promised to go to the club german to-morrow night."
"I shall get back in time to help you; the train is due at 7:10. Your dress is already pressed, and ribbons and lace sewed on, but as you have not worn it, I want to be sure about the hang of that skirt. Your sash——"
"Your train is ready to start. Good-bye, Ma-Lila."
"Good-bye, dearie. I wish the club house and Dr. Burbridge were in Jericho! Then you could go with me."
Mrs. Mitchell kissed her companion's cheek and hurried to the car platform, where she paused a moment, looking back at the girl seated in her trap, balancing her lace parasol.
"Are you going directly home?"
"No. I shall call to inquire how Mrs. Whitfield is to-day, and as the bishop has come home from Florida I must congratulate him on his restoration to health. Bring me some titi blossoms."
The bell clanged, the engine puffed, and the train disappeared around a curve. An hour afterward, in front of the post-office, the mail for Nutwood was brought to the trap. Eglah took two letters addressed to herself, and placed the remainder with papers under the cushion of the trap seat.
"Oliver, stop at Holmein's garden. Then go on home and give the mail to father. If he has not returned from fishing, be careful to lay letters and papers on the library table in front of his chair. I shall walk from Holmein's."
The grounds of the florist were nearly a mile from the gates of Nutwood, and on a new street-car line extending to a park that overlooked the river. From Holmein's the broad, sandy road ran straight through thick woods to the avenue of the old house on the hill. Having secured a bunch of double white violets, Judge Kent's favorite flower, his daughter walked homeward. Ivory thuribles of magnolia and bay swung their fragrance up and down the nave of ancient pines, and the profound repose, the silence as of primeval wilds was broken only now and then by the antiphonal plaints of doves lamenting on the lofty green pine cornices, or a low preluding chord, as fingers of the wind touched the leafy pipes of the forest organ.
Many months had passed, and the procession of the seasons brought no comforting element to brighten the monotonous life that so severely taxed Eglah's patience. A card and dinner party on Judge Kent's birthday had pleased him for the moment, but while he praised the menu and decorations, no relaxation of chill politeness rewarded her. Only oneal frescofestival was held. When nuts were ripe in autumn the young mistress had invited the children belonging to Sunday-schools and the orphan asylum in Y—— to come one afternoon to Nutwood and gather chestnuts and walnuts. In the grove long tables held refreshments, that were served by Eglah and Eliza to the hungry throng, and for the first time since the war hundreds of happy little ones raced and shouted under the ancestral trees. Several plank seats remained as souvenirs of the occasion, and to-day Eglah turned away from the avenue, and sat down between two young chestnuts. At her feet was a miniature doll house of walnut shells built to amuse a flaxen-haired tot who shrank tearfully from the sharp pricks of chestnut burrs, and begged for a "truly fairy tale."
Now Eglah was reminded of the wide, curious eyes raised to hers when she had repeated:
"I fancy the fairies make merry,With thorns for their knives and forks;They have currants for bottles of sherry,And the little brown heads are the corks.A leaf makes the tent they sit under,Their ballroom's a white lily-cup;Shall I know all about them, I wonder,For certain, when I am grown up?"
"I fancy the fairies make merry,With thorns for their knives and forks;They have currants for bottles of sherry,And the little brown heads are the corks.A leaf makes the tent they sit under,Their ballroom's a white lily-cup;Shall I know all about them, I wonder,For certain, when I am grown up?"
Laying her flowers beside her, she broke the seal of a letter from Mrs. St. Clair, postmarked New York, and after a moment the sheet fell into her lap. Raising it, she read a second time:
"We are so shocked and grieved to find that Mr. Herriott is actually going on that North Pole expedition we thought he had abandoned. He has been much fêted since his return last year, and all of our set are heartily sorry to give him up. Some of us believe you could put a stop to this nonsense, if you would only come to your senses, and use your influence. The idea of such a man going into the grewsome business of eating blubber and seal, and possibly Eskimo dog steak! Hunting a graveyard among hummocks! I suggested to him that a better plan would be to go down into a cold-storage vault, throw away the key and slam the spring-lock door. Then we should be allowed the consolation of covering him with flowers."
She replaced the letter in the envelope, and fell into a profound revery. If Mr. Herriott sailed away and never returned, her father could no longer cling to his sole condition of reconciliation. Years ago her own responsibility had ended, and even had she desired to reconsider the proposal of marriage, no opportunity to do so had been given her. She had not seen Mr. Herriott since that afternoon in the old Greco-Roman theatre. Two kind, brief, merely friendly letters had reached her, followed by a box containing for herself some fine Oriental embroideries, and an exquisitely carved ivory triptych; for Mrs. Mitchell a copy of a quaint circular picture in the old Byzantine style, representing a group of young lambs asleep around the standing figure of the child Jesus, whose body rayed light, as in the "Notte," one little hand extended over them, while he looked up to an angelic guard only dimly outlined by the gleaming tips of hovering pinions.
If Mr. Herriott never returned? Her eyes filled with unshed tears. For so many years he had been her devoted and loyal friend, and she honored and trusted him supremely. Never to see him again would grieve her deeply, but she felt assured he no longer loved her as formerly—that sincere friendship was the only sentiment he now entertained. Were his heart still hers, could he have maintained the total repression that marked recent years? He had given his word not to refer to a matter that distressed her, but when men really loved, such compacts were forgotten, and it must have been easy for Mr. Herriott to keep his promise of absolute silence.
Gathering up her flowers, letters and parasol, she walked slowly across the lawn and reached the house by a side door, without meeting any of the servants.
On the library table lay Judge Kent's unopened mail; hence she knew he had not yet returned from the fishing trip on which he started at daylight. Over the door opening into his adjoining bedroom a heavy portière of crimson plush usually hung, but a few days previous winter draperies had been replaced by Madras curtains that resembled stained glass. Lifting this summer portière, Eglah went into the bedroom, filled a vase with water and arranged the drooping violets on her father's bureau. Only during his absence did she ever come into this apartment, so long her grandmother's reliquary, where the girl seemed always to see old Hector crouching against his dead mistress, and that white face, whose fixed blue eyes pierced beyond the orange dawn and fronted God.
The memory of her childish terror on the night of Mrs. Maurice's death haunted the room, despite her effort to dispel it, yet to-day she sat down on a lounge and re-read Mrs. St. Clair's letter. If her father knew of the contemplated Arctic journey, he had given no hint. Perhaps the vessel had already sailed. Then at last she could find peace and reconciliation. Possibly Mr. Herriott might change his plans. If ever he renewed his offer would she—could she yield to her father's wishes? She set her teeth.
"Sell myself—even for father's love? Never!"
It seemed cruel that some misfortune to her best and dearest friend should offer her sole channel of escape, and after a while she made deliberate choice.
"Come what may, I pray no harm will overtake Mr. Noel. I would rather continue to fight and suffer than know he was lost; and surely God will watch over him."
Some moments passed while, forgetting to remove her hat, she sat tapping her knee with the letter. Then heavy footsteps rang on the bare, "dry-rubbed" floor, and Judge Kent's voice sounded through the library.
"Take that arm chair, Herriott. Eglah is in town, but she will be at home soon."
"I am glad to have an opportunity to talk to you in her absence. I have not come here voluntarily; necessity drove me. My mission now is so distressingly painful that could it have been avoided I should certainly not be here. To shield Eglah from annoyance I would undertake anything but neglect of duty. Of course you know the deplorable matter to which I allude?"
Every word came distinctly through the lace-hung doorway, and Eglah rose, reluctant to overhear that which it was evident the speaker wished withheld from her; but an overmastering desire to understand once for all conditions that had so long perplexed her, coerced her to remain. There was grave trouble, and she must suffer later—why not now? A full comprehension was the first step toward defence.
"I am surprised that you should intentionally embarrass me, but I suppose you refer to the United States and railroad bonds that were hypothecated. I knew you had redeemed them, delivered them to the college, and I hoped when I parted with the house in Thirty-eighth Street that I could turn it over to you in part payment of that bond business; but an unfortunate venture reduced me to such urgent need, I was obliged to take the money you offered through Trainem. Don't interrupt me—now you have forced me to speak, I want no renewal of this matter. Except the trustees and their attorneys, no one remembers the unjust clause in your father's will that Nina should have the New York house and certain stocks outright, but only the interest on those bonds which at her death should belong to the Presbyterian College. Munificent provision for the widow of a reputed multimillionaire! Since you have so kindly and generously recovered the bonds and delivered them to the trustees, I see no necessity for this revival of so disagreeable a subject, and certainly no propriety in dragging before Eglah what does not concern her. The trusteeship under which her own estate is held at present, prevents my using any part of it to repay you, as I would do most gladly, were it possible."
"Had you not forbidden an interruption, you might have spared yourself an unpleasant retrospection, as I earnestly desired to assure you at the outset that you are entirely mistaken in my purpose. I had no thought—no intention, of alluding to the subject of the bonds, which is even more disagreeable to me than to you, but since you have brought it up, while I decline to discuss my father's will, you must permit me to say that the course I pursued was prompted solely by my affection for Nina, and a desire to protect her innocent name. Hence as regards the bonds you owe me nothing."
"Do you doubt they were hypothecated with her consent and desire?"
"Judge Kent, you must pardon me if I ask you to dismiss issues long past. I am here for a far graver and more imperatively pressing matter. It seems hard indeed that I, who have accepted and enjoyed your hospitality—I, who for many years have known that my heart dwelt upon your roof—should be the unfortunate agent forced to bring grief and trouble to your hearth. I suppose you suspect to what I refer?"
"No. I have so many enemies, and such an infernal succession of bad luck, I never know where a bomb may burst. I haven't an idea what you are driving at."
Mr. Herriott walked twice across the floor.
"Do you recollect Edward Hunt?"
"Yes. A cross between a fox and a blood-hound. He was a cousin of yours. I gave hearty thanks when I heard he was dead."
"Allow me to correct you; he married a cousin of my mother's. Of course you recall his connection with the syndicate that secured congressional grant of lands in the West, which subsequently proved so valuable. You were a member of the Senate committee that reported favorably, and doubtless you recollect all that passed between you and Hunt at that time."
"Good God! When the grave closed over him, I thought that syndicate business was screwed down in his coffin."
"Judge Kent, I would give my right arm if it could be shut in there. Do you recall a time in Washington, the night of Secretary D——'s dinner, from which I carried Eglah to a cotillon? Early in the evening you received an anonymous warning that the personality of 'Ely Twiggs' had been discovered. Accidentally the truth came into my possession. I sent it, that you might prepare any defence you deemed advisable—and I was unwilling you should suspect I knew the facts. The cashier of that western Pentland Bank was Duncan Keith, whom I knew when I was a boy, and when the bank failed, he and the bookkeeper disappeared, after destroying the books; at least the president and teller so stated at the examination held by directors and stockholders. Edward Hunt was a director, and defended Keith. He always contended that the president and teller had conspired to throw the guilt on an innocent man. Leaving his son with the boy's grandmother in Ohio, Keith fled, and was reported somewhere in South America. One night in Geneva, where I went to attend a scientific congress, a blurred sheet was brought to me at the hotel.
"'Your old friend Duncan Keith is dying. I am an innocent victim. Come and take my message to my boy in Ohio.'
"The shoemaker who brought the note piloted me to his shop, where in an attic room I found poor Keith. He was sinking fast, but begged me to do him the only favor this world held. He insisted I should watch over his son, whose grandmother had recently died, and the boy had now no relations but an aunt, a sister of Keith's wife. With his last sobbing breath he swore to me he was innocent. He declared the charge of embezzlement was untrue; that his individual account was short only eight hundred dollars, overdrawn with the knowledge and consent of president and teller, who denied their sanction when the crash came, and charged him with theft and forgeries he had never committed. As security for the money borrowed, he had given a mortgage on a small piece of land, but to avoid mortgage tax it had not been recorded, and could not be found. Fear of prosecution and inability to establish his innocence against the united persecution of bank officials had driven him from the country. Part of the records he preserved and carried away, but he needed an important link, the stubs of a certain check book, and some bank drafts returned from London. His health failed fast, and confined to his room, he had abandoned all hope, when one day he received a package addressed in Edward Hunt's handwriting. It contained not only the stubs, but checks and two receipts establishing beyond doubt the guilt of the president, teller, and two other persons. Poor Keith! On his narrow bed he had a tin box under his elbow, and he laid the key on my knee.
"'Noel, I am honest as you are, and I want you to help my boy clear my name. All the proof is in this box. Will you keep it safe until Duncan is twenty-one, and then give it to him, and explain my enclosed letter of instructions? I tried to write my wishes to you, and that letter also is in the box. If I had not heard you were here, I should have asked our consul to send the box to you. Noel, will you help my son? I don't ask you to prosecute, or take any part; I only beg you to guard these proofs till he is of age. Will you promise me now, in God's sight, to keep these papers safe, and put them into no hand but Duncan's?'
"I took the box and put my hand on his, already cold and damp in death.
"'So help me God, I will guard the papers, and give them only into Duncan's own hand.'
"I sat with him until the end. Five hours later, at two o'clock, he died. Only God knows how bitterly and ceaselessly I have rued that rash promise now goading me to a step I would almost rather die than take. When I accepted the trust, I knew absolutely nothing of your connection with that bank, or of the transactions by which you came into possession of stock and shares in the land company and bank, all standing in the name of 'Ely Twiggs,' the dividends of which were always sent direct to London, and receipted for by 'Ely Twiggs's' agent, who reported him travelling in Egypt. 'Ely Twiggs,' as far as my information went, was associated solely with the syndicate's work in Congress. I made no examination of the proofs until very recently, because the appointed time had not arrived, and since I looked into that box I have not had one moment's peace. The array of evidence, strengthened by two of your own letters, rests the culpability on the president, the teller, Marsden and yourself. You must know how it pains me to lay this matter before you, but it is necessary you should understand the facts."
His voice wavered, and again he walked the length of the room.
A deep, quivering groan came from the depths of Judge Kent's chair, and leaning across the library table he poured out and swallowed a glass of brandy.
"The imminence of this misfortune is what appalls me. Duncan Keith will be twenty-one years old in less than a month, and as I sail so soon with the expedition, I am now on my way to place the box in his hands and explain his father's wishes. I may never come back, and I must execute my trust now, especially as the poor fellow is not in good health."
"My God! You can't mean to tell me you intend to arm him and my enemies with documents that will disgrace me?"
"Not if it were possible to avoid it without breaking my oath. I have pondered, I have passed sleepless nights trying to devise some method of shielding you; but unless I lie to a dead man who trusted me, I am compelled to deliver the box."
"Noel, for God's sake be reasonable! Don't sacrifice me to maudlin sentimentality. You pretend to love my innocent child, and yet pursue a course you know will break her heart, as well as mine?"
"Judge Kent, for her sake I would do anything—save dishonor myself."
"Then you have ceased to love her!"
"No; I love her, and I always shall, until she is some other man's wife. I gave her my whole heart when she was a mere child, and she is still the one woman in all the world who holds it in her dear little hands. To shield her from this terrible sorrow, I have thought you might go abroad at once, and keep American papers out of her reach for a while. Duncan will probably move promptly in exonerating his father's name; there will be, of course, a nine days' sensation, then matters will settle; a later stratum of news will press it out of sight, and Eglah need never know."
"Could not the boy be influenced to sell the papers and drop it?"
"Certainly not by me. Do you think it possible I could insult the dead by helping to undo what I swore to aid his son in accomplishing?"
"But you swore in ignorance of facts learned since."
"No, only in ignorance of the personality of some who contributed to Keith's ruin. I am the most unhappy poor devil on earth, but no honorable alternative is allowed me, and to-night I go on to Duncan and deliver the box. I must meet the vessel which touches at Sydney, Cape Breton, on the 15th, and I have no time to spare. I shall come back this afternoon to see Eglah and say good-bye, and I can only hope that after calm consideration of all the circumstances embarrassing me, you will not censure me for a deplorable course of action which my sense of honor makes absolutely imperative."
Judge Kent sat facing the Madras drapery towards which Mr. Herriott's back was turned, and at this moment a glass door leading to the colonnade opened; the draught of air blew the curtain into the library, and the Judge saw his daughter slip quickly from his bedroom. With a vague hope of gaining time, he said unsteadily:
"I am so stunned, I am not myself. That you should sweep me and mine to destruction seems incredible; but, nevertheless, will you stay and dine?"
"No, thank you, Judge Kent. It would be painful for both of us. Later, I must see Eglah once more."
In crucial hours, when some crisis wrecks plans, landmarks, life-long aims, the brain works with preternatural clearness and celerity. Through the torturing ordeal of that half hour Eglah had listened, numb with shame and horror. The world seemed to have dissolved in a night that could know no dawn; yet, groping in this chaos, two desperate resolves nerved her.
She would secure that box of papers, no matter at what cost. Her father should be saved from disgrace, and he should never suspect she knew his guilt. She must see Mr. Herriott before she saw her father. Swiftly she matured her resolution; then an unusual glitter came into her lovely soft eyes, and she sat down between the chestnut trees and waited.
At a quick stride, Mr. Herriott descended the avenue until nearly opposite the seat, and she rose and walked toward him.
Their hands met in a tight, clinging clasp, but for an instant neither spoke. He noted that the blood had ebbed from her lips, and that she was frightfully pale, but the eyes lifted to his glowed unnaturally.
"I intended coming back later, to spend an hour with you and say good-bye, as——"
"Never to say good-bye again! You shall not leave me."
She drew him down to the seat beside her, and he smiled at the imperious tone, so suggestive of her childish days.
"You do not understand conditions, unless—When did you see your father?"
"Not since last night. He went fishing at daylight."
"Then you do not know that I came to bid you farewell before sailing for the Arctic circle?"
"Yes. I have not seen father to-day, but this letter from Mrs. St. Clair arrived by the morning mail. Mr. Herriott, I am the most miserable woman God ever made, and I want to turn to you now, but I scarcely know just how to do so. Once—that night in Washington—you said you would never change, that you would always love me; but I have no right to expect after years of absence—" She paused and the frozen face crimsoned.
He caught his breath and leaned toward her.
"I love you now as I loved you then. My heart has always belonged to you. If you doubt it, you wrong me."
"Then, Mr. Noel, do not leave me. If you go away now you will break my heart."
He rose and looked down at her, wondering at the desperate appeal in her eyes.
"I do not understand, because I long ago ceased to hope I could ever be essential to your happiness. I am obliged to leave here to-night; but if there is any service I can render before I sail from Sydney, on the 15th, I am sure you know how very gladly I should help you. If, as you say, you wish to turn to me, I beg that you will do so at once. Why are you miserable?"
She covered her face with her hands.
"If you love me, will you abandon this expedition for my sake?"
"I cannot now, it is too late. My word is pledged by cable, and the vessel is on the Atlantic. Eglah, I dare not hope that you have learned to care; I will not delude myself. Don't torture me by vague suggestions that half madden me."
He sat down beside her, painfully perplexed.
Her hands fell into her lap, clutched each other, and when she spoke it was in a shuddering, broken whisper.
"Then, if you must go, take me with you till you sail. We can be married to-night."
For fully a moment his eyes, amazed, incredulous, searched hers; then he surrendered himself to a measureless exultation.
"My darling—my own proud darling!"
He drew her close, and she felt him tremble as she hid her face against his shoulder—felt his lips on her neck, on her bare, quivering hand that he held pressed to his cheek.
"I know it is selfish to permit you to bind yourself to me on the eve of a perilous journey from which I may not return, but after so many long, hopeless years the temptation is more than I can resist. I can have you, my darling, for only a few short days, but the happiness of a lifetime shall glorify them. To-night I must go to Ohio, to close up some business with my ward, Duncan Keith; then on to Greyledge for two days before starting for Cape Breton. Why did you not give me this precious intimation earlier? You have always known what you are to me. Was it the news in Mrs. St. Clair's letter regarding my departure that pleaded for me in your proud, stubborn heart?"
"I never realized until to-day how much I need you. Mr. Noel, this has come upon me so suddenly I am stunned. Give me a little time—till my mind clears. Let us see father at once; there are so many things to be arranged if—if——"
He bent to kiss her, but with one shaking hand she softly turned his face aside.
"Not yet, please—while I am Eglah Kent."
Her arms stole up around his neck and her strained voice broke.
"I am so unhappy; I seem to be in a horrible, strangling dream. Be patient with me. You are the only one in all the world who can comfort me, and I am looking to you now as—I once looked to God."
Holding her in a close clasp, he felt her quivering from head to foot.
"Sweetheart, don't tremble so. Trust me, darling, and love me, and no home in the wide universe will be so happy and blessed as ours. Ours! The word holds heaven. Are you cold, that you shiver so constantly? Come into the sunshine."
Pacing up and down the colonnade, Judge Kent watched them approaching. He looked worn, hunted, and a sickly pallor marked his usually florid face. Before Mr. Herriott could speak, he was startled by a strange hysterical sound from Eglah; not a cry, not a sob. As she looked at her father, her face lighted with a marvellous, yearning tenderness, and she sprang into his extended arms.
"Father, you will love me now! Kiss me, kiss me. Hold me tight—take me back to my place in your heart."
Only he could hear the low ripple of broken words, and his tears dripped on her face as he pressed his lips to hers.
"Herriott, what does it all mean?"
"That I am the happiest, proudest man on earth. Coming here to say good-bye to my sweetheart, I shall carry my wife away with me."
"But she cannot go to the North Pole, and—you may not survive the dangers."
"When I know she is waiting at home for me, do you suppose all the ice in Greenland could shut me away from her?"
"God bless my daughter! How shall I live without her?"
"We are never to be separated. Mr. Herriott could not wish anything so cruel."
She rose on tiptoe, put a hand on each wet cheek, and kissed her father twice.
Mr. Herriott looked at his watch.
"Eglah has consented to be married to-night, and my train leaves at eleven. There are several important matters to be arranged, and I should be glad to know her wishes."
She rang the bell, then stepped to his side and slipped her hand in his.
"Father's rector is absent, and I wish Bishop Vivian to perform the ceremony; he loved my grandmother, and she loved him."
Aaron appeared at the door.
"Tell Oliver to bring the trap around as soon as he can. Father, you must go in with Mr. Herriott. Mrs. Whitfield is sick, but I want Mr. Whitfield and Lucy and Dr. Eggleston and his wife to be here. If you wish any others, invite them. Mr. Noel, what hour?"
"I suggest not later than nine."
"My dear Ma-Lila will never forgive me. She is away."
"Where? Could not a telegram reach her?"
"No, she is in the country, two miles from a station. She left me only this morning, and will be so grieved."
"How far away?"
"Fifteen miles by carriage road, twenty by rail. There is the trap. Father, I am going upstairs now; and, if you please, I want to be alone till—till—till—" One hand clutched her throat, and she looked appealingly into Mr. Herriott's eyes.
He smiled, stooped, and pressed to his lips the slender fingers he held.
"Set your mind at rest about Mrs. Mitchell. She shall be here, if I have to send a special for her."
When explanation and instructions had been given to Aaron and Minerva, Eglah went upstairs and locked herself in the room to which had been removed the furniture and portraits Mrs. Maurice held sacred. Up and down she walked, feeling that an iron band was throttling her. She and her father were drifting out to a black gulf of humiliation—of hopeless disgrace—and only that box of papers could rescue, anchor them in safety. Mr. Herriott loved her so devotedly, she believed that when she was his wife he would yield the papers in answer to her prayers. If he refused? She recalled the ring of indignation in his voice when her father suggested bribing Duncan Keith. Marriage would give her immediate control of her estate, and surely her fortune could purchase the papers from the boy, when in her presence Mr. Herriott delivered them to him. If all efforts failed, she would go down to ruin knowing she had left nothing undone to save her father, and now, at last, she had regained her place in his heart.
The price? Her face burned, and she wrung her hands. After to-night's ceremony, could she ever again respect herself? When Mr. Herriott knew, would he despise her? Family portraits on the wall caught her glance. Did the stainless Maurices, and her own young mother, watching from the Celestial City, see all the burden of shame settling down on her shoulders? Would her grandmother's cold, proud blue eyes look "I told you so," or soften in tender pity for "poor Marcia's baby"? Public disgrace over which so many would gloat, to escape such infamy was any price too dear? The price—herself?
Three hours later she saw her trunk carried downstairs. When the clock struck eight, she was dressed for her wedding. The gown ordered for the club german was a trailing, ivorycrêpe de Chine, and where lace ruffles met on the corsage she fastened a spray of white lilac from the bouquet Mr. Herriott had sent. No gleam of jewels marred the white perfection of face and figure, but her dilated eyes burned like brown agates when the light smites them. On the dressing-table lay a note for Mrs. Mitchell.
"My dear, sweet little mother: The crucial hour came, and you were away. I may have scuttled ship, but I did what seemed best. Some things you cannot understand now, but I know you love me too well to distress me with questions—when I ask you to trust me. Pray for your"Baby."
"My dear, sweet little mother: The crucial hour came, and you were away. I may have scuttled ship, but I did what seemed best. Some things you cannot understand now, but I know you love me too well to distress me with questions—when I ask you to trust me. Pray for your
"Baby."
As the clock struck half-past eight, Eliza ran up the steps and into the room, holding against her shoulder a branch of titi pearled with bloom. At sight of the extraordinary loveliness of the figure standing as if frozen, she burst into tears.
"My beautiful—my baby! What does all this mean? Your father has forced you to——"
"Hush, hush. My father was as much astonished as you are. I feared you could not come in time, and here is a note, in which I said all that I can tell you. Don't scold me, and don't cry; wait till I am gone."
She gave her the note and kissed her cheek, where tears were streaming.
"Oh, my baby, give me the positive assurance that this step is voluntary—that you love Mr. Herriott."
"Entirely voluntary. My supreme wish is to go with Mr. Herriott. He is the noblest man in all the world."
"Yes, but you have not just found that out; you have always known it. Now, do you love him? I am afraid you do not; and, my baby, marriage without loving a husband is——"
Eglah laid a hand over Eliza's lips.
"Father is coming for me. I want to wear some titi, because you brought it to me. Pin two clusters under the folds of lace here, just over your baby's heart. Now, kiss Eglah Kent good-bye, and leave me with father while you take off your hat and dry your eyes."
"My dear, are you ready?"
"Wait a few minutes for Ma-Lila. Father, if I can not persuade Mr. Noel to abandon his journey, you must be sure to meet me when he telegraphs you and leaves me. I am inexpressibly unhappy, but if you will forget the last three years, and love me as in the dear old days, it will comfort and gladden me."
The clock chimed nine. Near the foot of the stairway Mr. Herriott waited, and when he came forward the almost unearthly beauty of Eglah's face made his heart throb with vague apprehension. It wore a rapt expression of supreme exaltation, as if a somnambulist walked with eyes fixed on some goal beyond a yawning black chasm.
Drawing her arm from her father's, she stepped to Mr. Herriott's side and laid her hand in his.