When the tailor had completed his "survey" I went to the jail, talked for a few moments with Alf and then straightway rode to the General's house. The old man was sitting on the porch, with one foot resting on a pillow, placed upon a chair. "Get down and come right in!" he shouted; and as I came up the steps he motioned me away from him and said: "Don't touch that hoof, if you please. Buttermilk gout, sir. Look out, you'll tip something over on me. It's a fact—every time I drink buttermilk it goes to my foot. Too much acid. How are you, anyway?"
He cautiously reached out his hand and jerked it away when I had merely touched it. "Didn't sleep a wink last night; and every dog in the county came over here to bark. I am very glad you have called; glad that you are too liberal to hold a foolish resentment. And the old folks are gone. 'Od 'zounds, the way things do turn out. The first thing I know I'll swear myself out of the church. It was my pride, sir—but by all the virtues that man has grouped, must we apologize for our pride? Hah, sir! Must I grovel and beg pardon because I honor my own name? I'll see myself blistered first. It wasn't old Lim's fault. Confound it all, it wasn't anybody's fault. Then, sir, must I go crawling around on my belly like a—like a—like an infernal lizard, sir? I hope not. But it will come out all right, I think. After Alf is cleared the old people will come back and all will be well again. What do you want?"
A negro boy had poked his head out of the hall door and was looking on with a broad grin. "Dinner!" cried the old man. "But is that the way to announce it—grinning like a cat? Come back here. Now what do you want?"
"Dinner is ready, sah," said the boy.
"Well, that's all right. But don't come round here grinning at me. Hand me that stick. Oh, I'm not going to hit you with it. Come, Mr. Hawes. No, I don't want you to help me. I can hobble along best by myself."
Millie was in the dining-room, and she turned to run when she saw me, but the old man hobbled into her way,so she came toward me with reddening face, and held out her hand. "I am glad to see you," she said. "Sit over here, please. That's Chyd's seat and he's so particular."
The son came in, said that he was pleased to see me, sat down, opened a pamphlet that looked like a medical journal and began to read.
"Mr. Hawes," said the General, "I understand that you have made arrangements to study law with Judge Conkwright. And a most fortunate arrangement, I should think. Smart old fellow, sir; smart, and a good man to have on your side, but a mighty bad man to have against you—half Yankee by parentage and whole Yankee by instinct. Millie, is that cat under the table?"
"I think not, father," the girl answered, after looking to see if the cat were there; but this did not satisfy the old man. "You must know, not think," he said. "There should be no doubt about the matter, for I must tell you that if he touches my foot I'll kill him. A cat would travel ten miles and swim a river—and a cat hates water—to claw a gouty foot. Chyd, just put that book aside if you please."
The young man folded the pamphlet and shoved it into his pocket. "I've struck a new germ theory," he said.
"Yes," replied the General, "and you'll strike a good many more of them as you go on. I should think that you want facts, not theories."
"But theories lead to facts," the young man rejoined. "The theory of to-day may become the scientific truth ofto-morrow."
"And it may also be the scientific error of the day after to-morrow," I remarked.
He looked at me, spoke a word which I did not catch and then was silent, seeming to have forgotten what he had intended to say. I think that the word he uttered was "hah," or something to indicate that he had paid but slight heed to my remark. I did not repeat it, and the talk fell away from the germ theory.
"Now, Mr. Hawes," said the General, "I want you to help yourself just as if you were alone at your own board. It is a pleasure to have you with us, and an additional pleasure to know, sir, that you are to become a permanent citizen of this county. Men may think themselves wise when they apprentice their sons to a trade, averring that the professions are overcrowded, but that has always been the case, and yet, professional men have ever been the happiest, for they achieve the most, not in the gathering of money, but in the uplifting of mankind. My daughter, you don't appear to be eating anything. I hope that you have not permitted the timely, though unexpected, visit of Mr. Hawes to affect your appetite. Chydister, another piece of this mutton? Most nutritious, I assure you; a fact, however, which is, no doubt, well known to you. Mr. Hawes, I should think that you would prefer to sleep here at night, rather than to stay alone in that old house. You are more than welcome to a room here, sir. And I should like to hear anecdotes of your grandfather, theCaptain."
"I shall be in the country but a part of the time during the week, and my coming and going will be irregular. But for this I should gladly accept your generous offer. As to my grandfather, I must admit that I know but little regarding his life."
"A sad error in your bringing up, sir. In that one particular we Americans are shamefully at fault. A buncombe democracy has insisted that it is not essential to look back, but simply to place stress upon our present force and consequence. That is a self-depreciation, a half-slander of one's self. Of course, it is not just to despise a man who has no ancestry, but it is a crime not to honor him if he has a worthy lineage."
And thus he talked until the rest of us sat back from the table, and then, gripping his cane and getting up, he said that he would like to talk to me privately in the library. Upon entering the room he filled a clay pipe, handed it to me, gave me a lighted match, filled a pipe for himself, and then lay down upon an old horse-hair sofa. I placed a cushion for his foot and he raised up and bowed to me. "I thank you, sir," he said. "I don't believe that Chyd would have thought of that. I believe that he will make of himself one of the finest of physicians, but a man may be a successful doctor and yet a thoughtless and an indifferent companion. You will please put the right construction upon what may appear as an over-frankness on my part, for the fact is I have never regarded you as a stranger; andI feel that what I say to you will go no further."
He was silent and I nodded to him, waiting for him to continue. He moved his shoulders as if to work himself into an easier position, and then he resumed his talk. "Of my own volition I would not have gone over to Jucklin's house to break that engagement—I would have waited—but my son told me to go, and after I had gone, why, of course, I had to act my part. But it was simply acting, for my heart was not in it. And I tell you, sir, that if old Lim had wiped his bloody hands in my face I would not have struck him. Chydister is proud, but his pride and mine are not of the same sort. With him everything must bear upon his future standing as a physician, and to me that has too much the color of business. I admit that I was grieved to discover that my daughter was in love with Alf. I don't say that he is not morally worthy of her or of any young woman, but he is poor and is indifferently educated, with no prospects save a life of hard work. And I don't believe that I need to apologize for desiring to see my daughter well situated. Now, my son regrets the step which he took and which he urged me to take, and at the earliest moment he will renew the engagement. I think almost as much of Guinea as I do of my own daughter. Although she is a country girl, who has led a most simple life, I hold her a remarkable woman—an original and a thinking woman, sir. And now what I request you to do is this—soften her resentment, if you can. There are matches at the corner of the mantelpiece."
My pipe was out. I lighted it, and did not resume my seat, but stood looking at him.
"General," said I, "Guinea will never marry your son."
"The devil you say! Pardon me. I didn't mean to be so abrupt. But why do you think she will not marry him?"
"General, it is now your turn to pardon me, sir. She is to be married by a man who worships her, not a scientist, but a man with a heart—she is going to be my wife."
The old man sprang up and in a moment he stood facing me. There was a footstep at the door and Chydister entered the room.
"Go ahead with your emotional oratory, but pardon me while I look for my stethoscope," he said. "I want to see what effect an hour's run will have on the hearts of a hound and an ordinary cur."
"Sir!" cried his father, turning upon him, "this is no time to talk of the hearts of hounds and curs. The hearts of men are at stake."
"That so? What's up?"
"What's up, indeed, sir? This man says that Guinea Jucklin will not marry you."
"Yes, so he told me. Now I almost know that I put that thing right up here."
"'Zounds, man, will you listen to me!"
"Yes, sir, go ahead. He says she won't marry me. That's his opinion, undemonstrated—a mere assertion; he has given me no proof."
"Ah, have you any proof, Mr. Hawes?" the old manasked.
"I have, but it cannot very well be set forth in words; and with much respect for you, General, I must say that I prefer not to illustrate it."
"You see it's rather vague, father. Let me ask if she has said positively that she will be your wife?"
"Her lips may have made no promise beyond a figure of speech, and yet her heart——"
"Ah, more vague than ever," the young man broke in, looking at his father as if he were impatient to get away. "I must have left it somewhere else," he added, and the old General frowned upon him.
"Chydister, if you lose that woman it is your own fault."
"Well, no, I can hardly agree with you there, father. If I lose her it will be the fault of circumstances. Are you done with me?"
"Yes, you can go," said the General. He stooped, reached back for the lounge and laboriously stretched himself upon it. Chyd went out and I remarked that it was time for me to go. The old man made no reply, seeming not to have heard me, but as I turned toward the door he raised up and said:
"I would be a fool, sir, to blame you; and I trust that you will not blame me for hoping that you are mistaken."
He lay down again, and I left him. Millie was standing at the gate when I went out, and she pretended not to see me until I had passed into the road, and then, with the manner of a surprise, she said: "Oh, I didn't thinkyou were going so soon—thought you and father were having an argument. Do you see—see him very often?"
There was a tremulous tenderness in her voice, and I knew that there were tears in her eyes, and I looked far away down the road, as I stood there with the gate between us.
"I have seen him every day," I answered.
"And does he look wretched and heart-broken?"
"No, he is happy, for he knows that you love him."
She caught her breath with a sob and I looked far away down the road.
"You told him—told him that I did. And I am so thankful to you; I would do anything for you. I dream of him all the time, and I see you with him. How terrible it is, shut up there and the sun is so bright for everyone else. Sometimes I go into the closet and stay there in the dark, for then I am nearer him. When will you see him again?"
"I am going back to town to-morrow."
"Will you please give him this?"
I reached forth my hand and upon my palm she placed a locket.
"I know that if you study law, Mr. Hawes, you will get him out. You are so strong that you can do most anything. Good-bye, and when you write to Guinea, send her my love."
Four weeks passed and heavy were the days with anxiety, for I had received no word from Guinea. I thought of a hundred causes that must have kept her from writing, but, worst of all, I feared that she had written and that the letter had gone astray.
One afternoon, having thrown my book aside, weary of causes, reasonings and developments of law, I sat on a rock near the spring, musing, wondering, when suddenly I sprang to my feet, with Guinea in my mind, with Guinea before me, I thought. But this was only for an instant. A young deer came down the path, gracefully leaping, and my mind flew back to the time when I had first seen her running down that shining strip of hard-beat earth. Yes, it was a deer, and it ran down the brook, and presently I heard the hounds yelping in the woods. I returned to my room and again I strove to study, but the logical phrasing was harsh to me, and I threw down the book. I would fish in the pools that lay along the stream toward the mill. The ground in the yard and about the barn was so dry that I could find no angle worms, and I decided to dig in the damp moss-land near the spring. The hoe struck a hard substance and out came something bright. I stooped toexamine it, and at first I thought that it was silver, but it was not—it was mica. I scraped off the moss and the thin strata of earth, and there I found a great bed of the ore. I dug deeper and it came up in chunks, and it was fine and flawless. My reading taught me that it was valuable, and I was rejoiced to find that it was on my own land. I got out as much as I could carry—indeed, I filled a trunk with it, and then carefully replaced the moss, smoothed it down and made it look as if it had not been displaced. My blood tingled with excitement and I was afraid that some one might have seen me. I took the trunk to my room and split off thin sheets of the mica, and the more I looked at it the more I was thrilled at the prospect that now lay, not in the future, but under my touch. And I was not long in resolving upon a course to pursue. I remembered that into our neighborhood had come from Nashville, Tenn., a large stove with mica in the doors, and I thought it would be wise to take my trunk to that city and by exhibiting its contents induce some one to buy the mine. I hastened to town, after hiding the trunk, and told Conkwright and Alf that unexpected business called me away for a few days, and then I returned home and hired a man to drive me to the railway station. I was afraid to trust the trunk out of my sight, but I had to let the baggage man take it, but I charged him to be particular with it, telling him that it was full of iron ore. He gave it a jerk and declared that it must be full of lead. When I had come into that community I fancied that the train was on wings,but now it appeared to be crawling. Night came and I was afraid that robbers might assail the train and expose my secret; but at last I reached Nashville, and then came a worry. How was I to find the man who had made the stove? I took my trunk to a hotel, wrapped a chunk of the mica in a handkerchief and set out to look for a stove dealer. I soon found a hardware establishment, and in I walked with the hardened air of business, and asked for the proprietor. A pleasant-looking man came forward, and I asked him what mica was worth. He looked at me sharply and answered that he was not thoroughly informed as to the state of the market, but that he thought it was worth all the way from five to twenty-five dollars a pound. "But mica of the first quality is scarce," said he, and then he asked if I wanted to buy mica.
"No, sir, I want to sell it. Is this of good quality?"
I unwrapped the handkerchief and his eyes stuck out in astonishment. "Where did you get it?" he asked.
"Off my land in North Carolina."
"Have you very much of it?" he asked, scaling off thin sheets with his knife.
"Tons of it."
"You don't say so! Then you've got a fortune. We are not very large manufacturers and don't use a great deal. How much did you bring with you?"
"Only a trunk full."
"Well, I guess we can take that much. Bring it around."
I did so, and I could scarcely believe that I had correctlycaught his words when he offered me five hundred dollars, though now I know that he paid me much less than it was worth. He talked a long time with his partner, and then came back to me with the money, asked my name and a number of other questions. "Young man," said he, "if we had the ready means we would buy that mine, but we haven't. Now, I tell you what you do: Take a sample—this piece—and go at once to Chicago. I know of some capitalists there who are making large investments in the South, and I have no doubt that they will be pleased to make you an offer for your property. Here, I'll write their names on a card. To tell you the truth, we are to some extent interested with them. Now, don't show this sample to anyone else, but go straight to Clarm & Ging, Rookery building, Chicago. Anybody can tell you where it is. Here's the card. We'll telegraph them that you are coming, so you are somewhat in honor bound, you understand, not to go elsewhere—we have in some degree sealed the transaction with a part purchase, you see."
I walked out of that house, dazed, bewildered with my own luck. And I took passage on the first train for Chicago. If money could clear Alf, he would now be cleared, and proudly I mused over the great difference that I would make between his first and his last trial. But during all this time I was conscious of a heaviness—the silence of Guinea.
The train reached Chicago at morning. And now I was in the midst of a whirl and a roar—a confused babblingat the base of Babel's tower. And as I walked up a street I thought that a tornado had broken loose and that I was in the center of it. I called a hackman, for my reading taught me what to do, and I told him to drive me to the Rookery. He rattled away and came within one of being upset by other vehicles, and I yelled at him to be more particular, but on he went, paying no attention to me. After a while he drew up in front of a building as big as a lopped-off spur of a mountain range; and when I got out I found that the vitals of the hurricane had shifted with me, for the roar and the confusion was worse, was gathering new forces. But no one laughed at me, no one pointed me out, and I really felt quite pleased with myself—a school-teacher, a lawyer's assistant, expected by a capitalist! I went under a marble arch-way, and asked a man if he knew Clarm & Ging, and he pointed to an elevator—I knew what it was—and shouted a number. I got in and was shot to the eighth floor. I knocked at a door, but no one opened it. There was no bell to ring, so I knocked louder and still no one opened the door. This was hardly the courtesy that I expected. But while I was standing there a man came along and went in without knocking. I thought that he must be one of the men I was looking for, and I followed him, but he simply looked round after going in and then went out again without saying anything. I saw a man sitting at a desk, and I handed him the card which the hardware dealer had given me. He looked at it and said: "Yes, you are Hawes, eh? Where's yourmica."
I gave it to him, and he looked at it closely through a microscope. "How deep have you gone?"
"Not more than six inches."
"That so? Much of this size?"
"Train loads, I should think."
"Ah, hah. How much land does it cover?"
"Don't know exactly. Haven't investigated."
And this question set me to thinking. The mine was well on my land, but it might spread out beyond my lines. It was important that I should buy several acres surrounding the stretch of moss, and I decided to do this immediately upon my return home.
"Let's see," said the capitalist. "This is Friday. Mr. Clarm is out of town and will not be back until Monday—has a summer home in St. Jo, Mich., and is over there. It's just across the lake. Suppose we go over there to-morrow morning. Boat leaves at nine. Be a pleasant trip. All right."
He resumed his work as if my acceptance of his proposition was a foreshadowed necessity. "How did you happen to find it?" he asked, without looking up from his work.
"I was digging for angle worms."
He grunted. "Didn't find any worms, did you?"
"No, I don't think I did."
"I know you didn't. Worms and mica don't exist in the same soil. Very rugged?"
"Rocks on each side."
I was determined to be business-like, not to give him information unless he asked for it; and I sat there, studying him. He was direct and this pleased me, for it bespoke a quick decision. But after a time I grew tired of looking upon his absorption, for his mood was unvarying, and he held one position almost without change, so I began to walk about, looking at the pictures of factories and of mines, hung on the walls. The day was hot and the windows were up, and I looked down on the ant-working industry in the street. How different from the view that lay out of my window in the old log house; but I was resolved to draw no long bow of astonishment, for in a man's surprise is a reflex of his ignorance.
"What business?" the capitalist asked, still without looking up.
"None, you might say. Have taught school, but of late I have employed my time with studying law."
He looked round at me and then resumed his work. A long time passed. I heard his watch snap and then he got up.
"We'll go out and get a bite to eat," he said. "Any particular place?"
"No," I answered, pleased that he should presume that I was acquainted with the eating houses of the town.
We stepped out into the hall and he yelled: "Down!" He shoved me into an elevator among a number of men and women, and though we were all jammed together noone appeared to notice me; but when we got out a boy whistled at a companion and yelled: "Hi, Samson!" Mr. Ging darted out under the arch, and I almost ran over him, when he halted on the sidewalk to talk to a man. They walked along together for quite a distance, nodding and making gestures, and when they separated Ging said to me that he had just bought a subdivision of real estate. At this I appeared to be pleased, but I was not; I was afraid that before the close of the deal he might entangle himself in so many transactions that he could not afford to pay cash for the mica mine. The further we went the faster he walked, and suddenly he darted through a wall, and the swinging doors came back and slapped me in the face. We sat down to a table and Mr. Ging said that I might take whatever I desired, but that he wanted only a cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie. I was hungry, had eaten no breakfast and felt as if I could devour a beef steak as big as a saddle skirt, but I said that coffee and apple pie would do me. He asked me a number of questions concerning the mine, its distance from a railway, condition of the wagon roads, and especially did he want to know whether the local tax assessor made it a point to discriminate against the non-resident property owner. I caught the spirit of his quick utterances, and blew out my words in a splutter, striving to be business-like, but before I could cover all his points he had eaten his pie and was impatiently waiting for me.
"Want to go round to-night?" he asked, and before Icould tell him that I did want to go round, having but a vague idea as to what he meant, he added: "And if I can get off this afternoon I'll take you out to the stock-yards."
"I would much rather see your finest library," I replied.
"I guess you've got me there; don't know where it is, but I suppose we can find it in the directory."
"I have read of the Art Institute here. You know where that is, I presume."
"Y-e-s—low building over on the lake front. But I've never had time to go into it. Well, suppose we get back to the office."
I raced with him, but he beat me by a neck, being more accustomed to the track; and he shouted "Up!" as he darted under the marble arch. I grabbed him and held him for a moment, told him that I did not care to go up again so soon, that I would stroll about for a time and see him after a while.
"Yes, but you'll come back, eh? I guess we'll take that mine if we can agree upon terms. We own one in Colorado. Don't fail to come back. Up!"
I went out into the center of the maelstrom and laughed at him—a capitalist keeping pace with indigestion, racing against time. Little wonder that he was bald and pinched.
I thought that I would find a leisurely place and slowly eat a dinner, and I did find many places, but none of them was leisurely. I went to a hotel, and there I ate a meal without running the risk of having my chair thrown over,and then I returned to the Rookery. Mr. Ging was lost in his work, and in a room which opened into his apartment two girls were hammering a race on writing machines. I walked into this room, and the girls went on with their work as if I were at home looking over toward the General's house instead of looking down at them. A bell tinkled in Ging's room. One of the girls went to him and I heard him talking rapidly to her, and presently she came back with a pad of paper in her hand, and furiously attacked her machine. Ging rushed out into the hall and both machines stopped, and the girls began to nibble at bon-bons, but a moment later they dashed at their work, for Ging had returned. I went back into his room, and, glancing round, I saw one of the girls look up at the ceiling and then down at the floor. I knew that she was making fun of me, and in my heart I confessed myself her enemy.
"I'm sorry," said Ging, "but I don't believe I can get off this afternoon. Clarm's being out of town puts double work on me. But we'll go round to-night. You've been here quite often, I suppose."
"Well, not lately," I replied.
"No? Then we can find a good many things to interest you."
I went out again and walked about, but I did not venture far beyond the shadow of the Rookery, for I knew that should I get turned round I would be ashamed to inquire the way back. I saw a man standing on a box selling pens.He had a most fluent use of words, though I could see that he was not educated. He interested his hearers with humorous stories, as if his business were first to entertain the public and then to pick up a living, and for the first time it struck me that book-knowledge did not embrace everything, that people who simply read get but a second-hand experience. We must observe form and recognize the rules which good taste has drawn, but after all the finest form and the most nearly perfect rule is an inborn judgment. The merest accident may thrill a dull man with genius. I knew a young man who was commonplace until he was taken down with a fever, and when he got up his business sense was gone, but he wrote a parody that made this country shout with laughter. Thus I mused as I looked at that fellow selling pens. He was a rascal, no doubt, but I was forced to admire his vivid fancy, his genius.
When I returned to the Rookery I found Ging waiting for me. "Now," said he, "we'll go out for a while and then eat dinner. Would you mind going out about twelve miles? Train every few minutes. I've got some real estate that I'd like to show you—might cut an important figure in our transaction."
"I don't want it to cut any figure in our transaction," I replied. "I want to sell the mine for money."
"Yes, of course, but you might double your money on the real estate."
"That may be true, but I am not a speculator; and if youare not prepared to pay money, why, it is useless to waste further time."
"Of course. No time has been wasted and none shall be. You may trust me when it comes to the question of wasting time. I didn't know but you might like a home out at Sweet Myrtle. Beautiful place—gas, water, side-walks, sewers. But if you don't want to go, it's all right. Let me tell you right now that we are prepared to pay cash for your mine. We represent millions in the East. Well, we'll go."
That night we went to a theater, and to me Mr. Ging was a dull companion. He yawned and stretched through Shakspeare's mighty play, while I was in a tingling ecstasy. He said that the fellow could not act, and that may have been true, but to me there was no actor, but a real Hamlet; no stage, but the court at Elsinore. He said that he would call at the hotel in time to catch the boat, and I was glad when he left me to my own thoughts. At 9 o'clock the next morning we went on board a great white boat, so fresh, so full of interest to me that I was in a state of delight, of new expectancy, and when we steamed out into the lake I could scarcely repress a cry of joy so thrilling was the view. I had never seen a large body of water, had striven to picture the majesty of a wave, and now I stood with poetry rolling about me—now a deep-blue elegy, now a limpid lyric, varying in hue with the shifting of a luminous fleece-work, far above. To have been born and brought up amid great scenes were surelya privilege, but to come upon them for the first time when the mind is ripe, when the senses are yearning for a new impression, is indeed a blessing. Short were the sixty miles of our journey, it seemed to me, but Ging was bored and impatiently he snapped his watch, and said that we were at least fifteen minutes late. After having lost all view of the land, how strangely novel was the sight of the shore, and to fancy myself in a foreign harbor was the most natural of conceits.
At the wharf we took a carriage and were driven through the town, out by many a dreamy orchard side, up a bluff-banked river to a large frame house, high on a hill. Clarm was walking about in the yard, and with an ease and politeness which I had not expected—having permitted Ging to influence my preconception of his partner's character—he shook hands with me and invited me into the house. The sample of mica was closely inspected, numerous questions were asked, and after a time Mr. Clarm said that it would be well for Mr. Ging to go home with me. I had kept in mind the determination to buy a few more acres of land, and I knew that this might not be an easy transaction if Ging should accompany me, thereby exciting a suspicion in Parker's mind, so I replied that I was not going straightway home, being compelled by other business to stop for a day in Kentucky. "But it is, of course, necessary for Mr. Ging to see the mine, and he can start the day after I leave and reach Purdy on the day I arrive," I added.
They agreed to this, as Ging was the principal in anotherdeal that must be brought to a close; and after declining an invitation to dinner, I took my leave, feeling that I was a liar, it is true, but I thought that my deception was not only pardonable, but, indeed, a commendable piece of fore-sight. I am free to say that a man, in order to protect his commercial interests, must be an easy and a nimble liar; and I do not hold that a man who permits himself to be cheated simply that he may snatch the chance to tell a truth—I say that I could not regard him a prudent husband or a wise father. Divide the last cent with a friend, harden not thy heart against the distressed, but in the warfare of business seek to steal an enemy's advantage. It was with this argument that I sought to appease my conscience as I strolled about the town, but more than once I halted, thinking to tell them the truth. But judgment—permit me to term it judgment—finally influenced me to let the false statement stand.
Out from the town were numerous lanes, soft with turf, and with orchards on every side. Amid the darkened green I saw the yellowing pear, the red flash of the apple; and from amid the bushes blackberries peeped like the eyes of a deer. At the end of a lane was a deep ravine, one side a grassy slope, the other a terraced vineyard, and up this romantic rent I walked, in a Switzerland, a France. On the green slope was a cottage, with a high fence behind it, and as I drew near I thought that it would be a soothing privilege to enter the house and talk with the humble people who lived therein. Suddenly there came a shoutthat sent a spurt of blood to my heart——
"Hike, there, Sam! Hike, there, Bob—hike, there!"
I ran to the fence, grasped the top, drew myself up and looked over into the small inclosure; and there was old Lim Jucklin, down on his knees, beating the ground with his hat. I let myself drop and ran round the gate, opened it without noise and stepped inside. The old man now held one of the chickens by the neck and was putting him into a coop.
"Oh, it would suit you to fight to a finish, wouldn't it? And you may, one of these days, as soon as I hear from down yander. Git in there. Come here, Bob. You've got to go in, too. Caught you on the top-knot, didn't he? Well, you must learn to dodge better. Ain't quite as peart as one of the other Bobs I could tell you about. Now, boys, you are all right, but I want you to understand—-well, since Moses hit the rock!" he cried, scrambling to his feet. "Hold on, now, don't you tech me—don't know whether you are Bill or Bill's ghost. By jings, if it ain't Bill, I'm a calf's rennet. Since Moses hit the rock!"
He grabbed me and hung upon me, and I put my arm about him. "Don't tell me nuthin' now, Bill. Don't want to hear a word, for I'm deefer than a horse block."
"You have nothing to fear, Mr. Jucklin. I bring good news. Alf isn't out yet, but he will be. I have other news——"
"But don't tell me. Deefer than a horse-block. What did I do with that d——d handkerchief? Take that back—kiver to kiver. Had it in my hat a minit ago. Sand from this here lake shore gits in a feller's eyes. Ain't got used to it yet. Hope the Lord will excuse me for cussin' like a sailor. Must have got it from them fellers down on the lake shore. Kiver to kiver. Now let us go into the house. Door's round there facin' the holler. Let me go in first; you stand outside. Sand's blowin' up from the lake and gits in their eyes, too. Ain't used to it yet. Come on."
There were hollyhocks in front of the house and among them I stood waiting for the old man to open the door.
"Susan," he said, as he stepped into the room, "this here world—this one right here—is as full of surprises as a chicken is with—with—I don't know what. Now, don't you take on none, but—come in, Bill."
The old woman started forward with a cry and threw her arms about me. "There now," old Lim protested, wiping his eyes, "don't take on that way. Everything's all right. Set down here now and let's be sensible. That's it. Oh, she's all right, Bill—her folks stood at the stake. Guinea's comin' down stairs."
Toward the stairway I looked, and Guinea stepped down into the room. And oh, the smile on her lips as she came toward me! But she did not hold out her hands—she came close to me, and her bended head almost touched me, but her hands were held behind her, clasped, I could see. "Not yet," she said, looking up with a smile. "But you must not think ill of me, must not be provoked. Let me have my whimsical way until my whole life shall be yours."
"She's talkin' like a book!" the old man cried. "Let her talk like one, Bill. Don't exactly grab her drift as I'd like to, but I know it's all right. Gracious alive, why don't you women folks git him something to eat? And, me, too, for I'm as hungry as the she bear that eat up the children. I wish you'd all set down. Turn him loose, Susan. Ain't nothin' the matter with him—hungry as a wolf, that's all. Now we are gettin' at it."
With the door open and with a cool breeze blowing, with the sweetness of ripening fruit in the air, with the hollyhocks nodding at us, we sat in that modest room, at home in a strange place. I told them all that had befallen me. I gradually led up to the discovery of the mine. "And now," I added, "we go back there, not poor, but rich. There is no telling how many dollars they may give us."
"Not us, Bill," the old man interposed, slowly shaking his head; "not us, but you. It's yours, all yours. You bought the land and all that's on it or under it belongs to you."
"No, Mr. Jucklin, it belongs to you, to Alf and to me. There will be enough for us all, but no matter how little, you and Alf shall share it. I am just beginning fully to realize it—but I know that we are rich. It is necessary for me to get back at once," I added. "I'll have to buy some land from Parker, but I told Clarm & Ging that I was going to stop for a day in Kentucky. I didn't want them to know that I intended to buy more land. It's none of their business, anyway. So I must be in Purdy oneday ahead of Ging. I've got money with me and we'll all start this evening."
The old man sadly shook his head. "I can't do it, Bill; can't go back yet. If he comes clear, without a scratch on him, I'll go back, but if he don't I'll never see that state again. So we'll wait right here till after the next trial. Won't settle on anything until then. You go ahead and attend to everything and let me know how it all comes out. I've been scared ever since I left there, afraid that I'd hear something by some chance or other; and I wouldn't let Guinea write to you. Every day I'd tell her 'not yet.' She wanted to, but I wouldn't let her."
"You shall have your own way, for I know that everything will come out right. Conkwright says so, and he knows. How did you happen to find this place?"
The old man laughed. "Well, sir, we got on the train, and when the man asked where we wanted to go I told him we'd go just as far as he did, it made no difference how far that might happen to be; and every time we'd change cars I'd tell the other man the same thing. But finally they got so stuck up that they wouldn't let us get on without tickets, and at Louisville I bought tickets for Chicago. I didn't know what to do when I got to Chicago—didn't know what to do when I got to any place, for that matter; but we poked around, gettin' a bite to eat every once in a while, and slept in the slambangin'est place I ever saw. The lake caught me, and I found out how soon the first boat went out, and we got on her and here we are. WhenI told these here folks where I was from I braced myself, expectin' to have a fight right there, but I want to tell you that I was never better treated in my life. All the good folks ain't huddled together in one community, I tell you; and this knockin' round has opened my eyes mightily. Why, I rickollect when they sorter looked down on Conkwright because his father wa'n't born in the South. Yes, sir, and they gave me work right off—that is, they call it work, but I call it play—gatherin' fruit. Why, with us, when a feller wanted to rest he'd go out and gather fruit, if he could find any. Yes, sir, and I'm goin' to stay right here till the cat makes her final jump one way or another."
How fondly they listened as I talked about the old place, of well-known trees, of the big rock on the brink of the ravine. I even told them that the General lamented the breaking of the engagement, that he had come as an agent, that his son was at fault. Guinea smiled at this, and I thought that her eyes grew darker.
I learned that my train was not to leave until night. I was glad of this, for it gave me a sweet lingering time; and in the afternoon Guinea and I went down to the river.
"We will get a boat and row up past the island, away up to the beautiful hills," she said. "But can you row?" she asked, with a look of concern.
"I have pulled a boat against a swifter current than this." I answered. "I lived near the bank of a rapid stream."
We got into a graceful boat and skimmed easily over the water. Now it was my time to wonder and to museover the changes that had come—to dream as I looked at her, as she sat, trailing her hand in the water, her hand, my hand, though she had not let me take it to help her into the boat. With her a swamp would have been attractive, but here we were in a paradise. Boats up and down the river; lovers went by, singing. On one shore the scene was quiet, with easy slopes and with houses here and there; but the other shore was wild with bluffs, with tangled vines and monstrous trees that storms had gnarled and twisted. Here a spring gushed out with a gleeful laugh, and lovers paused to listen, and in its flow the city oarsman cooled his blistered hands.
"Guinea, do you see that high bluff up there among the pine trees?"
"Yes, and isn't it a charming place?"
"I'm glad you think so?"
"Why are you glad of that?"
"Because you—I mean a woman who has had her way—because she may live there. When at last she is tired of that way, and when she has gone to a man with her hands held out, he will take her to a house built on that bluff, a summer home. I'm not joking. Next year there will be a beautiful home up there. Don't you see, the land is for sale? And in the house a man is going to write a history of a woman who had her way and of a man who—well, I hardly know what to say about him, but I am not going to hide his faults nor cover up his weaknesses."
"Are you really in earnest, Mr. Hawes?"
"Yes, I mean every word of it. Wouldn't you—I mean, wouldn't the woman who had persisted in having her way—wouldn't she like a home up there?"
In her voice was the musical cluck that so often had charmed me. "She would be happy anywhere with the man who had permitted her to have her way, and I know that she would be delighted to live up there. And you—I mean the man—-wouldn't have any of the trees cut down, would he?"
"Not one. He would build the house in that open place."
"Charming," she said. "How sweet a religion could be made of a life up there, with the river and the hills and the island—beautiful."
"Guinea, I wish you would tell me something. Did you ever really love—him?"
"When I have come to you as I told you I would come, you will not have to ask me anything."
"But can you give me some idea as to how long I may have to wait? My confidence in you is complete, but you must know that to wait is painful. Suppose that a certain something that you are waiting for—suppose that nothing should come of it? What then?"
"No matter what takes place, I will come to you. I know that it must appear foolish, I know that I am but vague in what I try to make you understand, but—you will wait a while longer, won't you?"
Her voice was so pleading, her manner was so full of distress, that I hastened to tell her that I would wait nomatter how long she might deign to hold me off, and that never again could she find cause to reprove my impatience. She thanked me with a smile and with many an endearing word, and onward we went, the boats passing us, the songs of lovers reaching us from above and below. We landed and climbed the bluff, and I selected the exact spot whereon the house was to be; we loitered in the shade and counted the minutes as they flew away like pigeons from a trap, but we could not shoot them and bring them back; so they were gone, and it was soon time for us to go, for the light of the sun was weakening. Down the river we went, singing "Juanita," she rippling the water with her hand, I half-hearted in my rowing, dreamily wishing that the train might leave me.
Close to me at the door she stood. The old man was outside, waiting to go with me to the railway station. She bowed her head and I kissed her hair.
The sun had just gone down, and a man was beating a triangle to announce that it was lodge-night, when I stepped upon the sidewalk in front of Conkwright's office. The old man was locking his door. I spoke to him and he turned about, and, seeing me, merely nodded, threw open the door and bade me go in. "Mighty glad you've got back," he said. "They are going to bring that trial on right away, and it will be none too soon for us, I assure you. Let me open this window. Been about as hot a day as I ever felt. Well, what have you got to say?"
"So much that I scarcely know how to begin."
He grunted. "The prelude to an unimportant story. But, go on."
Long before I was done with my recital he sat with his eyes wide open, seeming to wonder whether my reason had slipped a cog.
"Wonderful," he said. "No, it is not wonderful, nothing is wonderful. The mere fact that a thing happens proves that there is about it no element of the marvelous. It is the strange thing that does not occur. When it does occur it ceases to be strange. And you say he will be here to-morrow? Now, you let me take charge of him as soon ashe arrives. If you don't he will not only get the mine for nothing, but will go away with your eye teeth. I'll go home to-night and study up this question, and by to-morrow night I'll know more about it than he does. Yes, sir, a good deal more, or at least make him think so. You were long-headed in deciding to slip out there and buy more land, and by the way, Parker is in town. No, sir, there is no telling what may happen. See Parker to-night and meet me here to-morrow morning."
I found Alf reading a letter which Millie had contrived to send him. Under the light of the smoky lamp his face looked sallow and thin, but his eyes were full of happiness. "She's got the noblest spirit that ever suffered, and noble spirits must suffer," he said as he handed me the letter. "See, she begs my forgiveness for having kept me on the gridiron. But doesn't one letter atone for a whole year of broiling? Ah, and you have been broiled, too, haven't you, Bill? Now let them put the balm on us. The Judge tells me that I am soon to be turned out, and I'll come out wiser than I was when I came in, for I have improved my time with reading. Have you heard from the folks?"
I told him my story, and I told it quietly, but it greatly excited him, and time and again he thrust his hands through the iron lattice to grasp me. "So you will go out not only wiser, but a richer man," I said. "You will not have to go into a field and plow in the blistering heat while other men are sitting in the shade. All our trouble has been for the best, and with deep reverence we must acknowledgeit. And soon we will go together out to the old place and peacefully smoke our pipes up under the rafters. Well, I have left you the subject for a pleasant dream, and I must go now to look for Parker. As I said to your father, there is no telling how much money we may get, but whatever comes we share."
"Not if it's very much, Bill. I don't need much; I wouldn't know what to do with it. But if you could only do one thing it would make me the happiest man that ever lived."
"Tell me what it is. It can surely be done."
"Why, if I could only get the old Morton place. It's about three miles from the General's, and it used to belong to his grandfather. One of his aims in life has been to get it back into the family, and if you could get it for me——"
"You shall have it."
"Don't say so, Bill, unless you think there's a chance."
"It's not a chance, but a certainty. You shall have the place. And what a delight it will be to the General to visit his daughter there. Now, don't speculate—let it be settled. Well, I'll see you to-morrow and tell you how it's all to turn out, but have no fears about getting the farm."
I found Parker at the tavern. He told me that I might have a few acres of land down about the spring, but that I would have to pay a little more for it than he had paid. "We can't afford to trade for the mere fun of it," he said. "My father used to do such things and they came mighty nigh having to haul him to the poor house."
I offered him a sum that pleased him, that must, indeed, have delighted him, for he offered to go out and set up a feast of cove oysters and crackers, a great and liberal ceremony in the country; and over the tin plates in a grocery store the transaction was celebrated. I met him again early at morning, and before the day was half-grown I saw our transaction spread upon the records. And at night Ging arrived. I introduced him to Conkwright. "The Judge will represent me," said I, "and I will stand by any agreement he may enter into with you."
"All right," Ging replied. "How far is it out to the mine?"
"About five miles."
"Better go out to-night. Haven't any time to lose. Get a rig and we'll go out."
"Might as well wait until morning," said the Judge. "We can't do anything to-night."
"I know, but by staying there to-night we'll be there right early in the morning. Get a rig."
They drove away and I went round to the jail to tell Alf that the old Morton place was rapidly coming his way. I slept but little that night and I was nervous the next day, as I sat in the Judge's office waiting for him to return. At 11 o'clock he drove up alone.
"Where is Ging?" I asked as the old man got out of the buggy.
"Gone to the telegraph office. Come in and I'll tell you all about it."
We entered the office and I stood there impatient at his delay, for instead of telling me, he was silent, walking up and down the room with his hands under his coat behind him.
"Did you say he had gone to the telegraph office?"
"Yes; said he had to communicate with his partner. Think he must have been somewhat startled at my knowledge of mica; but if he should spring the subject on me a week from now he would be still more startled—at my ignorance. In this instance I have been what is termed a case lawyer."
And still I waited and still he continued to walk up and down the room, his hands behind him.
"Communicate with his partner. Did he make an offer?"
"Well, he hunted around in that neighborhood, but his gun hung fire. The truth is I set the price myself. There is no doubt as to the value of the mine—finest in the world, I should think."
"What did you tell him he could have it for?"
"Well, I suppose we could get more for it, but I told him that he might have it for six hundred thousand dollars. I—why, what's wrong with that offer? Isn't it enough?"
"Enough! It is more than I dared to dream!" I cried.
"Ah, hah. And because you don't know anything about mica. It didn't startle him; simply remarked that he would telegraph to his partner. He'll take it. He'll give you a check and I'll send it over to Knoxville, Tenn.—don'twant this little bank to handle that amount. What are you going to do with the money?"
"I'm going to buy the old Morton place for Alf, give the old man as much as I can compel him to take, and I'm going to build a home on a high bluff overlooking the St. Jo river, in Michigan. And I don't know yet what else I may do. It is so overwhelming that my mind is in a tangle. But I am going to give you——"
"I don't charge you anything for my services," he broke in, humorously winking his old eyes. "You are to be my law partner, you know."
"Ah, that was reserved for time to bring about, in the event that I should ever become a lawyer, but that possibility is now removed. I'm not going to study law. The law is very forcible and very logical, but it is too dry for me. I don't believe that I am practical enough for a lawyer. I would rather read poetry and luminous prose than to study rules of civil conduct. I am going to bejewel my house with books and then I am going to live. I heard you say that the poet was the only man who really lives, but he is not—those who worship with him live with him. Yes, I am going to buy old books—I don't like new ones—and in my library I will rule over the kingdoms of the earth. But I am going to give you ten thousand dollars."
"You wouldn't make a very good lawyer, Bill. I suspected it, and now you prove it. My dear fellow, I have no children, and am getting old, therefore I have no use for money. Wait a minute. I believe there is a five thousanddollar mortgage on my house. Well, you may lend me ten thousand, but I don't believe I'll ever pay it back. I can't afford to violate the rule. When a man lends me money it's gone. And that's right, for if I thought I had to pay it back I might dodge you. Yes, sir. As I was driving back to town I came within one of permitting myself to look upon this happening as a strange affair, but it is not; it's perfectly natural. Yes, sir. And as soon as the news spreads around, nearly every man in the community will turn out to hunt for mica, and not a speck of it will be found. A reminder of the imitators that clamor when the clear voice of a genius has been heard. If I keep on fooling with this subject I will regard it as strange, after all. Just think of the ten thousand things that led to the discovery of that mine. Suppose we could trace any occurrence back to its source. Take my sitting here, for instance. Caused, we will say, by a dead cat. My father, a very young fellow at the time, found a dead cat lying on his father's door-steps, and he threw it over into a neighbor's yard. The neighbor saw him, came over and demanded that he be whipped. He was whipped, according to the good, old religious custom, and he ran away from home, went to many places, came into this state as a clock peddler, fell in love, married, and here I am, sitting here—all caused by a dead cat. My mother was the daughter of a very proud old fellow. She ran away with my father and never again was she received at home. I may have dreamed it, but it seems that I remember my mother holding me inher arms, pointing to an old brick house and telling me that my grandfather lived there. Yes, sir, if we permit our minds to drift that way, everything is strange. Here comes our man."
Ging stepped in, mopping his face with a handkerchief. "I'll take it," he said, and it seemed to me that the room began to turn round. "Let us fix it up at once," he added. "I have engaged a man to drive me to the station and I want to take the next train."
Evening came. The day had been filled with tremors and whirls, so dazed was I, dreamily listening to details, now startled, now seeming to be far away—shaking hands, signing papers; and now it was all settled, and I, on a horse, rode toward home to seek a night of rest in the country. The moon was full. I heard the sharp clack of hoofs, and, looking back, I saw a man riding as if it were his aim to overtake me. I jogged along slowly and Etheredge came up.
"How are you, Mr. Hawes? I have heard of your wonderful luck and I congratulate you. I intended to see you in town to-night, but learned that you had come out here, so I rode fast to overtake you. I have sold out and will leave here to-morrow morning."
"What! Then you won't be here at the trial?"
"I shall not be needed, sir. Now I am going to tell you something and I hope that in your mind, and in the mind of the public, the good which it will do may in some measure atone for the wrong——"
His horse stumbled, and he did not complete the sentence. I was afraid to say anything, was afraid that eagerness on my part might stir the vagaries of his peculiar mind and drive him into stubborn silence. So I said nothing. He rode close to me, reached over and put his hand on my arm. "Mr. Hawes," he said, leaning toward me, and in the moonlight his face was ghastly, "Mr. Hawes, Alf Jucklin did not kill Dan Stuart."
"What!" I cried, bringing my horse to a stand-still and seizing his bridle-rein.
"Let us be perfectly calm now, and I'll tell you all about it. Turn loose my bridle-rein and let us ride on slowly."
Down the moon-whitened road the horses slowly walked. I waited for him to continue. "No, sir, Alf didn't kill him. I found him in the road, after Alf had called me, and I took him into my house and there was not a mark on him, not one. I stripped him and nowhere was his skin broken. Dan was born with organic disease of the heart, and for years I had been treating him. He was sensitive and never spoke of his ailment and I was the only one who knew the extent of it. Two years ago I told him that he was likely to die at any minute, and I repeatedly warned him against fatigue or any sort of agitation. And it was rage that killed him when Alf's pistol fired. The hammer of Dan's pistol caught in his pocket and his failure to get it out threw him into a rage and he died. I told the coroner that he was shot through the breast, and I slyly contrivednot to be placed upon my oath. They had Alf's confession, and that was enough. And no one cared to strip the dead man to examine the wound. It was a piece of humbuggery, as all coroners' inquests are, and so the verdict was given. I am a mean man; I acknowledge it—I am narrow and vindictive, but I would have made a confession of the manner of Dan's death rather than to see Alf hanged. I knew that there would be a new trial; I intended to leave the community and I resolved to defer my statement until just before going. That about covers the case, I think."
"Will you go with me to a justice of the peace, write out your statement and swear to it?" I asked, striving to be calm.
"Certainly. Old Perdue is a justice. We'll go over there."
The moon was still high as I galloped toward town with the statement in my pocket. I went straightway to Conkwright's house and with the door-knocker set every dog in the town to barking.
"Why, what on earth is the matter?" the Judge asked as he opened the door. "Oh, it's you, is it, Bill? I've got a negro here somewhere, but Gabriel might blow a blast in his ear and never stir his wool. Come into the library."
He lighted a lamp, and I handed him the doctor's statement. He read it without the least show of surprise; and, putting the paper into his pocket, he sat down, closed his eyes, and with his thumb and forefinger pressed his eye-lids.
"Etheredge is going to leave in the morning," I said.
"He ought to be sent to the penitentiary. But let him go. Penitentiary is better off without him. In the morning we will have several of our leading doctors exhume the body to verify the statement. I'll attend to it. Yes, sir. A certain form must be observed. A jury will be impaneled, the statement will be read, and the judge will, in a sort of a charge, declare that the prisoner is innocent. Some things are strange after all. A venomous scoundrel, but let him go. Yes, I'll attend to everything in the morning. You'd better sleep here."
"No, I'm going to the jail and then to the telegraph office."
How soft had been the day, how tender the tone of every voice. The road under the moon was white and from a persimmon tree in an old field came the trill of a mockingbird. Two happy men were riding toward an old home.
"And here is where he fell," said Alf. "I am tempted to get down and pray. Bill, you don't know what it is to be freed from the conviction that you have killed a man. He might not have died then if it had not been for me, but, thank God, I didn't kill him. Yes, here is where I eased him down. I remembered afterward that I had not seen a drop of his blood and I was deeply thankful for it. We can almost see the General's house from here. You saw the old man to-day when he came up and shook hands with me. He hardly knew what he was about, and he said, 'Alf, what's your father doing?' But his eyes were full of tears and he had to wipe them when I told him that I was going to buy the old Morton place. He thinks you are a great man, Bill, and I honor him for it. To-night we will sleep in our room and early to-morrow morning I'm going over to see Millie. Do you think I ought to go to-night? No, I will wait and dream over it."
In the old room we sat and peacefully smoked our pipes. And after I had gone to bed, and when I thought Alf was asleep, I heard him talking to himself. No, it was not talk, it was a chant, and it reminded me of his mother. I said nothing and I sank to sleep, and strange, mystic words were in my ears, soothing me down to forgetful slumber.
We were aroused early at morning by the rattle of a wagon at the door. The old people—Guinea had come back. Alf dressed quickly and ran down stairs, and I stuffed my ears that I might hear no sound from below. After a long time, and while I sat looking out of the window, the old man came up.
"By jings, I must have got that dispatch of yourn before you sent it. Mighty glad to see you again. But don't go down stairs yet. Everybody down there is as foolish as a chicken with his neck wrung. I tell you the Lord works things out in his own way. Sometimes we may think that we could run things better, but I don't believe we could! and, thurfore, I say, kiver to kiver. Ah, Lord, what a time we have had. Yes, sir, a time if there ever was one. Alf has jest told me what you intend to do, but if you think that you are goin' to crowd a lot of money off on me you are wrong. Give us this old house and see that we don't need nothin'—but, of course, you'll do that. I thought I'd let 'em fight to a finish up yander, but I didn't. They looked at me so pitiful that I called an old feller that happened to be passin' along and told him thathe might have 'em. I've got to have a Sam and a Bob. Old Craighead, that lives about ten miles from here, has some of the finest in the world. Always wanted 'em, but they were so high that I couldn't tip-toe and reach 'em. Reckon you could fix it so I could git a couple?"
"You shall have as many as you want—all of them."
"I'm a thousand times obleeged to you. Yes, sir; sometimes we think we could run things better than He does, but I don't reckon we could. We seen young Lundsford as we driv along jest now. And I think he'll be over here putty soon, but don't you worry. No, sir, we ain't got nothin' to worry about now. Believe it would push us to scratch up a worry, don't you? By jings, though, I hardly know what to do; I step around here like a blind sheep in a barn, as the feller says. Well, it's gettin' pretty quiet down there now. Alf got away as soon as he could, and has gone over to the General's. Hush a minit. Thought I heard Chyd's voice. Well, I'm going to poke round a little, and it's not worth while to tell you to make yourself at home."
He went out, and I heard him humming a tune as he tramped slowly down the stairs. I took a seat near the window. Voices reached me, and, looking down through the branches of a mulberry tree, I saw Guinea sitting on a bench, and near her stood Chyd Lundsford. In his hand he held a switch and with it he was slowly cutting at a bloom on a vine that grew about the tree. He was talking. Guinea's face was turned upward and her hands wereclasped behind her head. I could look down into her eyes, but she did not see me, and I felt a sense of self-reproach at thus watching her, listening for her to speak, and I thought to get up, but my legs refused to move, and I sat there, looking down into her eyes. Her face was pale and her lips, which had seemed to me in bloom with the rich juice of life, were now drawn thin.
"Of course, I was wrong," he said, "but I'm not the first man that ever did a wrong. And I should think that as a broad-minded and generous woman you could forgive me. I don't think that you can find any man who would take any better care of you than I would. I've got no romance about me, and why should I have? I can just remember seeing the trail of that monster called advancement—that mighty thing called progress, though in the guise of war, and that thing swallowed the romance of this country. I say that I can remember seeing the fading trail, but I know its history and I know that if it did not swallow romance it should have done so. I don't suppose I could ever think as much of any woman as I do of you, and I know that no woman could make my house so bright and cheerful. I was afraid of any complication that might hurt my prospects as a physician, my standing in the opinion of a careful and discriminating public; so, influenced by that sense of self-protection, I broke our engagement. But now I beg of you to renew it."
"On your knees!" she said, without looking at him.
"Now, Guinea, that's ridiculous. I am willing to makeall sorts of amends——"
"On your knees!" she said.
"I see that there is no use to appeal to your reason. I suppose, however, that the way to reason with a woman is to gratify her whim and then appeal to her sense. It is a foolish thing to do, but in order to secure a hearing I will do as you say."
He sank upon his knees. She glanced down at him and then looked up at the sky. He began to talk, but she stopped him with a motion of her hand.
"You have heard the preacher say that we must be born again," she said. "I have been born again—born into the kingdom of love, and I find myself in a rapturous heaven. Get up." He obeyed, and she continued. "And you are so far from this kingdom that I cannot see you—you are off somewhere in the dark, and to me your words are cold. But there is one who stands in the light and I must go to him."
I sprang from my seat and hastened down the stairs. My heart beat fast, and I trembled. I was frightened like a child, like a timid overgrown boy, who is called to the table to sit beside a girl whom he slyly worships; and I ran away—down the path to the spring. I heard her calling me, and I stood there trembling, waiting for a holy spirit that was searching for me; and worship made me dumb. She came down the path, and, seeing me, hastened toward me with her head bent forward and her hands held out. And I caught her in my arms, swept her off the groundand held her to my beating heart.
And over the stones the water was laughing, and the strip of green moss-land flashed in the sun. I saw the old man walking up the ravine, with his hands behind him, and I caught the faint sound of a tune he was humming. Slowly her arms came from about my neck, and hand in hand we walked toward the house, she in the shining path, I on the green sward; and as we drew near we saw Alf and Millie, standing under a tree, waiting for us.