metals. Beneath the benches were piled automobile supplies of every kind.
“You know how to use all these machines, Jim?” she asked in wonder.
“Sure, and then some!” he answered with a wave of his slender hand.
“You’re a wizard—-“
“Now the den?” he said briskly.
She followed him through the hall and into the large front corner room overlooking Avenue B and Eighteenth Street. The morning sun flooded the front and the afternoon sun poured into the side windows. The furniture was solid mahogany–a bed, bureau, chiffonier, couch and three chairs. The windows were fitted with wood-paneled shutters, shades and heavy draperies. A thick, soft carpet of faded red covered the floor.
“It’s a nice room, Jim, but I’d like to dust it for you,” she said with a smile.
“Sure. I’m for giving you the right to dust it every morning, Kiddo, beginning now. Let’s find a preacher tonight!”
She blushed and moved a step toward the door.
“Just a little while. You know it’s been only ten days since we met—-“
“But we’ve lived some in that time, haven’t we?”
“An eternity, I think,” she said reverently.
“I want to marry right now, girlie!” he pleaded desperately. “If that spider gets you in her den again, I just feel like it’s good night for me.”
“Nonsense. You can’t believe me such a silly child. I’m a woman. I love you. Do you think the foolish prejudice of a friend could destroy my love for the man whom I have chosen for my mate?”
“No, but I want it fixed and then it’s fixed–and they can say what they please. Marry me tonight! You’ve got the ring. You’re going to in a little while, anyhow. What’s the use to wait and lose these days out of our life? What’s the sense of it? Don’t you know me by this time? Don’t you trust me by this time?”
She slipped her hand gently into his.
“I trust you utterly. And I feel that I’ve known you since the day I was born—-“
“Then why–why wait a minute?”
“You can’t understand a girl’s feelings, dear–only a little while and it’s all right.”
He sat down on the couch in silence, rose and walked to the window. She watched him struggling with deep emotion.
He turned suddenly.
“Look here, Kiddo, I’ve got to leave on that trip to the mountains of North Carolina. I’ve got to get down there before Christmas. I must be back here by the first of the year. Gee–I can’t go without you! You don’t want to stay here without me, do you?”
A sudden pallor overspread her face. For the first time she realized how their lives had become one in the sweet intimacy of the past ten days.
“You must go now?” she gasped.
“Yes. I’ve made my arrangements. I’ve business back here the first of the year that can’t wait. Marry me and go with me. We’ll take our honeymoon down there. By George, we’ll go together in the car! Every day by each other’s side over hundreds and hundreds of miles! Say, ain’t you game? Come on! It’s a crime to send me away without you. How can you do it?”
“I can’t–I’m afraid,” she faltered.
“You’ll marry me, then?”
“Yes!” she whispered. “What is the latest day you can start?”
“Next Saturday, if we go in the car—-“
“All right,”–she was looking straight into the depths of his soul now–“next Saturday.”
He clasped her in his arms and held her with desperate tenderness.
CHAPTER IX
ELLA’S SECRET
The consummation of her life’s dream was too near, too sweet and wonderful for Jane’s croakings to distress Mary Adams beyond the moment. She had, of course, wished her friend to be present at the wedding–yet the curt refusal had only aroused anew her pity at stupid prejudices. It was out of the question to ask her father to leave his work in the Kentucky mountains and come all the way to New York. She would surprise him with the announcement. After all, she was the one human being vitally concerned in this affair, and the only one save the man whose life would be joined to hers.
In five minutes after the painful scene with Jane she had completely regained her composure, and her face was radiant with happiness when she waved to Jim. He was standing before the door in the car, waiting to take her to the City Hall to get the marriage license.
“Gee!” he cried, “you’re the prettiest, sweetest thing that ever walked this earth, with those cheeks all flaming like a rose! Are you happy?”
“Gloriously.”
She motioned him to keep his seat and sprang lightly to his side.
“Aren’t you happy, sir?” she added gayly.
“I am, yes–but to tell you the truth, I’m beginning to get scared. You know what to do, don’t you, when we get before that preacher?”
“Of course, silly—-“
“I never saw a wedding in my life.”
She pressed his hand tenderly.
“Honestly, Jim?”
“I swear it. You’ll have to tell me how to behave.”
“We’ll rehearse it all tonight. I’ll show you. I’ve seen hundreds of people married. My father’s a preacher, you know.”
“Yes, I know that,” he went on solemnly; “that’s what gives me courage. I knew you’d understand everything. I’m counting on you, Kiddo–if you fall down, we’re gone. I’ll run like a turkey.”
“It’s easy,” she laughed.
“And this license business–how do we go about that? What’ll they do to us?”
“Nothing, goose! We just march up to the clerk and demand the license. He asks us a lot of questions—-“
“Questions! What sort of questions?”
“The names of your father and mother–whether you’ve been married before and where you live and how old you are—-“
“Ask you about your business?” he interrupted, sharply.
“No. They think if you can pay the license fee you can support your wife, I suppose.”
“How much is it?”
“I don’t know, here. It used to be two dollars in Kentucky.”
“That’s cheap–must come higher in this burg. I brought along a hundred.”
“Nonsense.”
“There’s a lot of graft in this town. I’ll be ready. I’ve got to get ’em–don’t care how high they come.”
“There’ll be no graft in this, Jim,” she protested gayly.
“Well, it’ll be the first time I ever got by without it–believe me!”
The ease with which the license was obtained was more than Jim could understand. All the way back from the City Hall he expected to be held up at every corner. He kept looking over his shoulder to see if they were being followed.
Arrived in her room, they discussed their plans for the day of days.
“I’ll come round soon in the morning, and we’ll spend the whole day at the Beach,” he suggested.
She lifted her hands in protest.
“No–no!”
“No?”
“Not on our wedding-day, Jim!”
“Why?”
“It’s not good form. The groom should not see the bride that day until they meet at the altar.”
“Let’s change it!”
“No, sir, the old way’s the best. I’ll spend the day in saying good-by to the past. You’ll call for me at six o’clock. We’ll go to Dr. Craddock’s house and be married in time for our wedding dinner.”
The lover smiled, and his drooping eyelids fell still lower as he watched her intently.
“I want that dinner here in this little place, Kiddo—-“
She blushed and protested.
“I thought we’d go to the Beach and spend the night there.”
“Here, girlie, here! I love this little place– it’s so like you. Get the old wild-cat who cleans up for you to fix us a dinner here all by ourselves– wouldn’t she?”
“She’d do anything for me–yes.”
“Then fix it here–I want to be just with you– don’t you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I’d rather spend that first day of our new life in a strange place–and the Beach we both love–hadn’t you just as leave go there, Jim?”
“No. The waiters will stare at us, and hear us talk—-“
“We can have our meals served in our room.
“This is better,” he insisted. “I want to spend one day here alone with you, before we go–just to feel that you’re all mine. You see, if I walk in here and own the place, I’ll know that better than any other way. I’ve just set my heart on it, Kiddo–what’s the difference?”
She lifted her lips to his.
“All right, dear. It shall be as you wish. Tomorrow I will be all yours–in life, in death, in eternity. Your happiness will be the one thing for which I shall plan and work.”
Ella was very happy in the honor conferred on her. She was given entire charge of the place, and spent the day in feverish preparation for the dinner. She insisted on borrowing a larger table from the little fat woman next door, to hold the extra dishes. She dressed herself in her best. Her raven black hair was pressed smooth and shining down the sides of her pale temples.
The work was completed by three o’clock in the afternoon, and Mary lay in her window lazily watching the crowds scurrying home. The offices closed early on Saturday afternoons.
Ella was puttering about the room, adding little touches here and there in a pretense of still being busy. As a matter of fact, she was watching the girl from her one eye with a wistful tenderness she had not dared as yet to express in words. Twice Mary had turned suddenly and seen her thus. Each time Ella had started as if caught in some act of mischief and asked an irrelevant question to relieve her embarrassment.
Mary could feel her single eye fixed on her now in a deep, brooding look. It made her uncomfortable.
She turned slowly and spoke in gentle tones.
“You’ve been so sweet to me today, Ella–father and mother and best friend. I’ll never forget your kindness. You’d better rest awhile now until we go to Dr. Craddock’s. I want you to be there, too—-“
“To see the marriage–ja?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Oh, no, my dear, no–I stay here and wait for you to come. I keep the lights burning bright. I welcome the bride and groom to their little home–ja.”
A quick glance of suspicion shot from Mary’s blue eyes. Could it be possible that this forlorn scrubwoman would carry her hostility to her lover to the same point of ungracious refusal to witness the ceremony? It was nonsense, of course. Ella would feel out of place in the minister’s parlor, that was all. She wouldn’t insist.
“All right, Ella; you can receive us here with ceremony. You’ll be our maid, butler, my father, my mother and my friends!”
There was a moment’s silence and still no move on Ella’s part to go. The girl felt her single eye again fixed on her in mysterious, wistful gaze. She would send her away if it were possible without hurting her feelings.
Mary lifted her eyes suddenly, and Ella stirred awkwardly and smiled.
“I hope you are very happy, meine liebe–ja?”
“I couldn’t be happier if I were in Heaven,” was the quick answer.
“I’m so glad—-“
Again an awkward pause.
“I was once young and pretty like you, meine liebe,” she began dreamily, “–slim and straight and jolly–always laughing.”
Mary held her breath in eager expectancy. Ella was going to lift the veil from the mystery of her life, stirred by memories which the coming wedding had evoked.
“And you had a thrilling romance–Ella? I always felt it.”
Again silence, and then in low tones the woman told her story.
“Ja–a romance, too. I was so young and foolish–just a baby myself–not sixteen. But I was full of life and fun, and I had a way of doing what I pleased.
“The man was older than me–Oh, a lot older–with gray hairs on the side of his head. I was wild about him. I never took to kids. They didn’t seem to like me—-“
She paused as if hesitating to give her full confidence, and quickly went on:
“My folks were German. They couldn’t speak English. I learned when I was five years old. They didn’t like my lover. We quarrel day and night. I say they didn’t like him because they could not speak his language. They say he was bad. I fight for him, and run away and marry him—-“
Again she paused and drew a deep breath.
“Ah, I was one happy little fool that year! He make good wages on the docks–a stevedore. They had a strike, and he got to drinking. The baby came—-“
She stopped suddenly.
“You had a little baby, Ella?” the girl asked in a tender whisper.
“Ja–ja” she sobbed–“so sweet, so good–so quiet–so beautiful she was. I was very happy–like a little girl with a doll–only she laugh and cry and coo and pull my hair! He stop the drink a little while when she come, and he got work. And then he begin worse and worse. It seem like he never loved me any more after the baby. He curse me, he quarrel. He begin to strike me sometimes. I laugh and cry at first and make up and try again—-“
Again she paused as if for courage to go on, and choked into silence.
“Yes–and then?” the girl asked.
“And then he come home one night wild drunk. He stumble and fall across the cradle and hurt my baby so she never cry–just lie still and tremble–her eyes wide open at first and then they droop and close and she die!
“He laugh and curse and strike me, and I fight him like a tiger. He was strong–he throw me down on the floor and gouge my eye out with his big claw—-“
“Oh, my God,” Mary sobbed.
Ella sprang to her feet and bent over the girl with trembling eagerness.
“You keep my secret, meine liebe?”
“Yes–yes—-“
“I never tell a soul on earth what I tell you now– I just eat my heart out and keep still all the years, I can tell you–ja?”
“Yes, I’ll keep it sacred–go on—-“
“When I know he gouge my eye out, I go wild. I get my hand on his throat and choke him still. I drag him to the stairs and throw him head first all the way down to the bottom. He fall in a heap and lie still. I run down and drag him to the door. I kick his face and he never move. He was dead. I kick him again–and again. And then I laugh–I laugh–I laugh in his dead face–I was so glad I kill him!”
She sank in a paroxysm of sobs on the floor, and the girl touched her smooth black hair tenderly, strangled with her own emotions.
Ella rose at last and brushed the tears from her hollow cheeks.
“Now, you know, meine liebe! Why I tell you this today, I don’t know–maybe I must! I dream once like you dream today—-“
The girl slipped her arms around the drooping, pathetic figure and stroked it tenderly.
“The sunshine is for some, maybe,” Ella went on pathetically; “for some the clouds and the storms. I hope you are very, very happy today and all the days—-“
“I will be, Ella, I’m sure. I’ll always love you after this.”
“Maybe I make you sad because I tell you—-“
“No–no! I’m glad you told me. The knowledge of your sorrow will make my life the sweeter. I shall be more humble in my joy.”
It never occurred to the girl for a moment that this lonely, broken woman had torn her soul’s deepest secret open in a last pathetic effort to warn her of the danger of her marriage. The wistful, helpless look in her eye meant to Mary only the anguish of memories. Each human heart persists in learning the big lessons of life at first hand. We refuse to learn any other way. The tragedies of others interest us as fiction. We make the application to others–never to ourselves.
Jim’s familiar footstep echoed through the hall, and Mary sprang to the door with a cry of joy.
CHAPTER X
THE WEDDING
Ella hurried into the kitchenette and busied herself with dinner. Jim’s unexpectedly early arrival broke the spell of the tragedy to which Mary had listened with breathless sympathy. Her own future she faced without a shadow of doubt or fear.
Her reproaches to Jim were entirely perfunctory, on the sin of his early call on their wedding-day.
“Naughty boy!” she cried with mock severity. “At this unseemly hour!”
He glanced about the room nervously.
“Anybody in there?”
He nodded toward the kitchenette.
“Only Ella—-“
“Send her away.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Quick, Kiddo–quick!”
Mary let Ella out from the little private hall without her seeing Jim, and returned.
“For heaven’s sake, man, what ails you?” she asked excitedly.
“Say–I forgot that thing already. We got to go over it again. What if I miss it?”
“The ceremony?”
“Yep—-“
He mopped his brow and looked at his watch.
“By the time we get to that preacher’s house, I won’t know my first name if you don’t help me.”
Mary laughed softly and kissed him.
“You can’t miss it. All you’ve got to do is say, `I will’ when he asks you the question, put the ring on my finger when he tells you, and repeat the words after him–he and I will do the rest.”
“Say my question over again.”
“`Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?'”
She looked at him and laughed.
“Why don’t you answer?”
“Now?”
“Yes–that’s the end of the question. Say, `I will.'”
“Oh, I will all right! What scares me is that I’ll jump in on him and say `I will’ before he gets halfway through. Seems to me when he says, `Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?’ I’ll just have to choke myself there to keep from saying, `You bet your life I will, Parson!'”
“It won’t hurt anything if you say, `I will’ several times,” she assured him.
“It wouldn’t queer the job?”
“Not in the least. I’ve often heard them say, `I will’ two or three times. Wait until you hear the words, `so long as ye both shall live—-‘”
“`So long as ye both shall live,'” he repeated solemnly.
“The other speech you say after the minister.”
“He won’t bite off more than I can chew at one time, will he?”
“No, silly–just a few words—-“
“Because if he does, I’ll choke.”
Jim drew his watch again, mopped his brow, and gazed at Mary’s serene face with wonder.
“Say, Kiddo, you’re immense–you’re as cool as a cucumber!”
“Of course. Why not? It’s my day of joy and perfect peace–the day I’ve dreamed of since the dawn of maidenhood. I’m marrying the man of my choice–the one man God made for me of all men on earth. I know this–I’m content.”
“Let me hang around here till time–won’t you?” he asked helplessly.
“We must have Ella come back to fix the table.”
“Sure. I just didn’t want her to hear me tell you that I had cold feet. I’m better now.”
Ella moved about the room with soft tread, watching Jim with sullen, concentrated gaze when he was not looking.
The lovers sat on the couch beside the window, holding each other’s hands and watching in silence the hurrying crowds pass below. Now that his panic was over, Jim began to breathe more freely, and the time swiftly passed.
As the shadows slowly fell, they rang the bell at the parson’s house beside the church, and his good wife ushered them into the parlor. The little Craddocks crowded in–six of them, two girls and four boys, their ages ranging from five to nineteen.
Sweet memories crowded the girl’s heart from her happy childhood. She had never missed one of these affairs at home. Her father was a very popular minister and his home the Mecca of lovers for miles around.
Craddock, like her father, was inclined to be conservative in his forms. Marriage he held with the old theologians to be a holy sacrament. He never used the new-fangled marriage vows. He stuck to the formula of the Book of Common Prayer.
When she stood before the preacher in this beautiful familiar scene which she had witnessed so many times at home, Mary’s heart beat with a joy that was positively silly. She tried to be serious, and the dimple would come in her cheek in spite of every effort.
As Craddock’s musical voice began the opening address, the memory of a foolish incident in her father’s life flashed through her mind, and she wondered if Jim in his excitement had forgotten his pocket-book and couldn’t pay the preacher.
“Dearly beloved,” he began, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God—-“
Mary tried to remember that she was in the sight of God, but she was so foolishly happy she could only remember that funny scene. A long-legged Kentucky mountain bridegroom at the close of the ceremony had turned to her father and drawled:
“Well, parson, I ain’t got no money with me–but I want to give ye five dollars. I’ve got a fine dawg. He’s worth ten. I’ll send him to ye fur five–if it’s all right?”
The children had giggled and her father blushed.
“Oh, that’s all right,” he had answered. “Money’s no matter. Forget the five. I hope you’ll be very happy.”
Two weeks later a crate containing the dog had come by express. On the tag was scrawled:
Dear Parson:–I like Nancy so well, I send ye the hole dawg, anyhow.
She hadn’t a doubt that Jim would feel the same way–but she hoped he hadn’t forgotten his pocketbook.
The scene had flashed through her mind in a single moment. She had bitten her lips and kept from laughing by a supreme effort. Not a word of the solemn ceremonial, however, had escaped her consciousness.
“And in the face of this company,” the preacher’s rich voice was saying, “to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is commended of St. Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.”
Craddock paused, and his piercing eyes searched the man and woman before him.
“I require to charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it—-“
Again he paused. The perspiration stood in beads on Jim’s forehead, and he glanced uneasily at Mary from the corners of his drooping eyes. A smile was playing about her mouth, and Jim was cheered.
“For be ye well assured,” the preacher continued, “that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God’s Word doth allow, their marriage is not lawful.”
He turned with deliberation to Jim and transfixed him with the first question of the ceremony. The groom was hypnotized into a state of abject terror. His ears heard the words; the mind recorded but the vaguest idea of what they meant.
“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Jim’s mouth was open; his lower jaw had dropped in dazed awe, and he continued to stare straight into the preacher’s face until Mary pressed his arm and whispered:
“Jim!”
“I will–yes, I will–you bet I will!” he hastened to answer.
The children giggled, and the preacher’s lips twitched.
He turned quickly to Mary.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
With quick, clear voice, Mary answered:
“I will.”
“Please join your right hands and repeat after me:”
He fixed Jim with his gaze and spoke with deliberation, clause by clause:
“I, James, take thee, Mary, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Jim’s throat at first was husky with fear, but he caught each clause with quick precision and repeated them without a hitch.
He smiled and congratulated himself: “I got ye that time, old cull!”
The preacher’s eyes sought Mary’s:
“I, Mary, take thee, James, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
In the sweetest musical voice, quivering with happiness, the girl repeated the words.
Again the preacher’s eyes sought Jim’s:
AND THE MAN SHALL GIVE UNTO THE WOMAN A RING—-
The groom fumbled in his pocket and found at last the ring, which he handed to Mary. The minister at once took it from her hand and handed it back to Jim.
The bride lifted her left hand, deftly extending the fourth finger, and the groom slipped the ring on, and held it firmly gripped as he had been instructed.
“With this ring I thee wed—-“
“With this ring I thee wed—-” Jim repeated firmly.
“—-and with all my worldly goods I thee endow—-“
“—-and with all my worldly goods I thee endow—-“
“In the Name of the Father—-“
“In the Name of the Father—-“
“—-and of the Son—-“
“—-and of the Son—-“
“—-and of the Holy Ghost—-“
“—-and of the Holy Ghost—-“
“Amen!”
“Amen!”
The voice of the preacher’s prayer that followed rang far-away and unreal to the heart of the girl. Her vivid imagination had leaped the years. Her spirit did not return to earth and time and place until the minister seized her right hand and joined it to Jim’s.
“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder!
“Forasmuch as James Anthony and Mary Adams have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a Ring, and by joining hands; I pronounce that they are Man and Wife, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The preacher lifted his hands solemnly above their heads.
“God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with His favor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. AMEN.”
The preacher took Mary’s hand.
“Your father is my friend, child. This is for him—-“
He bent quickly and kissed her lips, while Jim gasped in astonishment.
The minister’s wife congratulated them both. The two older children smilingly advanced and added their voices in good wishes.
Mary whispered to Jim:
“Don’t forget the preacher’s fee!”
“Lord, how much? Will fifty be enough? It’s all I’ve got.”
“Give him twenty. We’ll need the rest.”
It was not until they were seated in the waiting cab and sank back among the shadows, that Jim crushed her in his arms and kissed her until she cried for mercy.
“The gall of that preacher, kissing you!” he muttered savagely. “You know, I come within an ace of pasting him one on the nose!”
CHAPTER XI
“UNTIL DEATH”
The lights burned in the hall with unusual brightness. Ella stood in the open door of the room, through which the light was streaming. With its radiance came the perfume of roses–the scrub-woman’s gift of love. The room was a bower of gorgeous flowers. She had spent her last cent in this extravagance.
Mary swept the place with a look of amazement.
“Oh, Ella,” she cried, “how could you be so silly!”
“You like them, ja?” Ella asked softly.
“They’re glorious–but you should not have made such a sacrifice for me.”
“For myself, maybe, I do it–all for myself to make me happy, too, tonight.”
She dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand and placed the chairs beside the beautifully set table.
“Dinner is all ready,” she announced
cheerfully. “And shall I go now and leave you? Or will you let me serve your dinner first?”
A sudden panic seized the bride.
“Stay and serve the dinner, Ella, if you will,” she quickly answered.
Jim frowned, but seated himself in business-like fashion.
“All right; I’m ready for it, old girl!”
With soft tread and swift, deft touch, Ella served the dinner, standing prim and stiff and ghost-like behind Jim’s chair between the courses.
The bride watched her, fascinated by the pallor of her haggard face and the queer suggestion of Death which her appearance made in spite of the background of flowers. She had dressed herself in a simple skirt and shirtwaist of spotless white. The material seemed to be draped on her tall figure, thin to emaciation. The chalk-like pallor of her face brought out with startling sharpness the deep, hollow caverns beneath her straight eyebrows. Her single eye shone unusually bright.
Gradually the grim impression grew that Death was hovering over her bridal feast–a foolish fancy which persisted in her highly-wrought nervous state. Yet the idea, once fixed, could not be crushed. In vain she used her will to bring her wandering mind back to the joyous present. Each time she lifted her eyes they rested upon the silent, white figure with its single eye piercing the depths of her soul.
She could endure it no longer. She nodded and smiled wanly at Ella.
“You may go now!”
The woman gazed at the bride in surprise.
“I shall come again–yes?”
“Tomorrow morning, Ella, you may help me.”
The white figure paused uncertainly at the door, and her drawling voice breathed her parting word tenderly:
“Good night!”
The bride closed her eyes and answered.
“Good night, Ella!”
The door closed. Jim rose quickly and bolted it.
“Thank God!” he exclaimed fervently. He fixed his slumbering eyes on his wife for a moment, saw the frightened look, walked quickly back to the table and took his seat.
“Now, Kiddo, we can eat in peace.”
“Yes, I’d rather be alone,” she sighed.
“I must say,” Jim went on briskly, “that parson of yours did give us a run for our money.”
“I like the old, long ceremony best.”
“Well, you see, I ain’t never had much choice– but do you know what I thought was the best thing in it?”
“No–what?”
“UNTIL DEATH DO US PART! Gee how he did ring out on that! His voice sounded to me like a big bell somewhere away up in the clouds. Did you hear me sing it back at him?”
Mary smiled nervously.
“You had found your voice then.”
“You bet I had! I muffed that first one, though, didn’t I?”
“A little. It didn’t matter.” She answered mechanically.
He fixed his eyes on her again.
“Hungry, Kiddo?”
“No,” she gasped.
“What’s the use!” he cried in low, vibrant tones, springing to his feet. “I don’t want to eat this stuff–I just want to eat you!”
Mary rose tremblingly and moved instinctively to meet him.
He clasped her form in his arms and crushed with cruel strength.
“Until death do us part!” he whispered passionately.
She answered with a kiss.
CHAPTER XII
THE LOTOS-EATERS
It was eleven o’clock next morning before Ella ventured to rap softly on the door. They had just finished breakfast. The bride was clearing up the table, humming a song of her childhood.
Jim caught her in his arms.
“Once more before she comes!”
“Don’t kill me!” she laughed.
Jim lounged in the window and smoked his cigarette while Ella and Mary chattered in the kitchenette.
In half an hour the scrub-woman had made her last trip with the extra dishes, and the little home was spick and span.
Mary sprang on the couch and snuggled into Jim’s arms.
“I’ve changed our plans—-” he began thoughtfully.
“We won’t give up our honeymoon trip?” she cried in alarm. “That’s one dream we MUST live, Jim, dear. I’ve set my heart on it.”
“Sure we will–sure,” he answered quickly. “But not in that car.”
“Why?”
Jim grinned.
“Because I like you better–you get me, Kiddo?”
She pressed close and whispered:
“I think so.”
“You see, that fool car might throw a tire or two. Believe me, it’ll be a job to have her on my hands for a thousand miles. Of course, if I didn’t know you, little girl, it would be all sorts of fun. But, honest to God, this game beats the world.”
He bent low and kissed her again.
“Where’ll we go, then?” she murmured.
“That’s what I’m tryin’ to dope out. I like the sea. It lulls me just like whisky puts a drunkard to sleep. I wish we could get where it’s bright and warm and the sun shines all the time. We could stay two weeks and then jump on the train and be in Asheville the day before Christmas.”
Mary sprang up excitedly.
“I have it! We’ll go to Florida–away down to the Keys. It’s the dream of my life to go there!”
“The Keys what’s that?” he asked, puzzled.
“The Keys are little sand islands and reefs that jut out into the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The railroad takes us right there.”
“It’s warm and sunny there now?”
“Just like summer up here. We can go in bathing in the surf every day.”
Jim sprang to his feet.
“Got a bathing suit?”
Yes–a beauty. I’ve never worn it here.”
“Why?”
“It seemed so bold.”
“All right. Maybe we can get a Key all by ourselves for two weeks.”
“Wouldn’t it be glorious!”
“We’ll try it, anyhow. I’ll buy the doggoned thing if they don’t ask too much. Pack your traps. I’ll go down to the shop and get my things. We’ll be ready to start in an hour.”
By four o’clock they were seated in the drawing- room of a Pullman car on the Florida Limited, gazing entranced at the drab landscape of the Jersey meadows.
Three days later, Jim had landed his boat on a tiny sand reef a half-mile off the coast of Florida with a tent and complete outfit for camping. Like two romping children, they tied the boat to a stake and rushed over the sand-dunes to the beach. They explored their domain from end to end within an hour. Not a tree obscured the endless panorama of sea and bay and waving grass on the great solemn marshes. Piles of soft, warm seaweed lay in long, dark rows along the high-tide mark.
Mary selected a sand-dune almost exactly the height and shape of the one on which they sat at Long Beach the day he told her of his love.
“Here’s the spot for our home!” she cried. “Don’t you recognize it?”
“Can’t say I’ve ever been here before. Oh, I got you–I got you! Long Beach–sure! What do you think of that?”
He hurried to the boat and brought the tent. Mary carried the spade, the pole and pegs.
In half an hour the little white home was shining on the level sand at the foot of their favorite dune. The door was set toward the open sea, and the stove securely placed beneath an awning which shaded it from the sun’s rays.
“Now, Kiddo, a plunge in that shining water the first thing. I’ll give you the tent. I’ll chuck my things out here.”
In a fever of joyous haste she threw off her clothes and donned the dainty, one-piece bathing suit. She flew over the sand and plunged into the water before Jim had finished changing to his suit.
She was swimming and diving like a duck in the lazy, beautiful waters of the Gulf when he reached the beach.
“Come on! Come on!” she shouted.
He waved his hand and finished his cigarette.
“It’s glorious! It’s mid-summer!” she called.
With a quick plunge he dived into the water, disappeared and stayed until she began to scan the surface uneasily. With a splash he rose by her side, lifting her screaming in his arms. Her bathing-cap was brushed off, and he seized her long hair in his mouth, turned and with swift, strong beat carried her unresisting body to the beach.
He drew her erect and looked into her smiling face.
“That’s the way I’d save you if you had called for help. How’d you like it?”
“It was sweet to give up and feel myself in your power, dear!”
His drooping eyes were devouring her exquisite figure outlined so perfectly in the clinging suit.
“I was afraid to wear this in New York,” she said demurely.
“I can’t blame you. If you’d ever have gone on the beach at Coney Island in that, there’d have been a riot.”
He lifted her in his arms and kissed her.
“And you’re all mine, Kiddo! It’s too good to be true! I’m afraid to wake up mornings now for fear I’ll find I’ve just been dreaming.”
They plunged again in the water, and side by side swam far out from the shore, circled gracefully and returned.
Hours they spent snuggling in the warm sand. Not a sound of the world beyond the bay broke the stillness. The music of the water’s soft sighing came on their ears in sweet, endless cadence. The wind was gentle and brushed their cheeks with the softest caress. Far out at sea, white-winged sails were spread–so far away they seemed to stand in one spot forever. The deep cry of an ocean steamer broke the stillness at last.
“We must dress for dinner, Jim!” she sighed.
“Why, Kiddo?”
“We must eat, you know.”
“But why dress? I like that style on you. It’s too much trouble to dress.”
“All right!” she cried gayly. “We’ll have a little informal dinner this evening. I love to feel the sand under my feet.”
He gathered the wood from the dry drifts above the waterline and kindled a fire. The salt-soaked sticks burned fiercely, and the dinner was cooked in a jiffy– a fresh chicken he had bought, sweet potatoes, and delicious buttered toast.
They sat in their bathing suits on camp-stools beside the folding table and ate by moonlight.
The dinner finished, Mary cleared the wooden dishes while Jim brought heaps of the dry, spongy sea grass and made a bed in the tent. He piled it two feet high, packed it down to a foot, and then spread the sheets and blankets.
“All ready for a stroll down the avenue, Kiddo?” he called from the door.
“Fifth Avenue or Broadway?” she laughed.
“Oh, the Great White Way–you couldn’t miss it! Just look at the shimmer of the moon on the sands! Ain’t it great?”
Hand in hand, they strolled on the beach and bathed in the silent flood of the moonlit night–no prying eyes near save the stars of the friendly southern skies.
“The moon seems different down here, Jim!” she whispered.
“It is different,” he answered with boyish enthusiasm. “It’s all so still and white!”
“Could we stay here forever?”
He shook his head emphatically.
“Not on your life. This little boy has to work, you know. Old man John D. Rockefeller might, but it’s early for a young financier to retire.”
“A whole week, then?”
“Sure! For a week we’ll forget New York.”
They sat down on the sand-dune behind the tent and watched the waters flash in the silvery light, the world and its fevered life forgotten.
“You’re the only thing real tonight, Jim!” she sighed.
“And you’re the world for me, Kiddo!”
She waked at dawn, with a queer feeling of awe at the weird, gray light which filtered through the cotton walls. A sense of oneness with Nature and the beat of Her eternal heart filled her soul. The soft wash of the water on the sands seemed to be keeping time to the throb of her own pulse.
She peered curiously into the face of her sleeping lover. She had never seen him asleep before. She started at the transformation wrought by the closing of his heavy eyelids and the complete relaxation of his features. The strange, steel-blue coloring of his eyes had always given his face an air of mystery and charm. The complete closing of the heavy lids and the slight droop of the lower jaw had worked a frightful change. The romance and charm had gone, and instead she saw only the coarse, brutal strength.
She frowned like a spoiled child, put her dainty hand under his chin and pressed his mouth together.
“Wake up, sir!” she whispered. “I don’t like your expression!”
He refused to stir, and she drew the tips of her fingers across his ears and eyelids.
He rubbed his eyes and muttered:
“What t’ell?”
“Let’s take a bath in the sea before sunrise–come on!”
The sleeper groaned heavily, turned over, and in a moment was again dead to the world.
Mary’s eyes were wide now with excitement. The hours were too marvelous to be lost in sleep. She could sleep when they must return to the tiresome world with its endless crowds of people.
She rose softly, ran barefoot to the beach, threw her night-dress on the sand and plunged, her white, young body trembling with joy, into the water.
It was marvelous–this wonderful hush of the dawn over the infinite sea. The air and water melted into a pearl gray. Far out toward the east, the waters began to blush at the kiss of the coming sun. The pearl gray slowly turned into purple. So startling was the vision, she swam in-shore and stood knee-deep in the shallows to watch the magic changes. In breathless wonder she saw the sea and sky and shore turn into a trembling cloud of dazzling purple. A moment before, she had caught the water up in her hand and poured it out in a stream of pearls. She lifted a handful and poured it out now, each drop a dazzling amethyst. And even while she looked, the purple was changing to scarlet–the amethyst into rubies!
A great awe filled her in the solemn hush. She stood in Nature’s vast cathedral, close to God’s heart–her life in harmony with His eternal laws.
How foolish and artificial were the ways of the far-away, drab, prosaic world of clothes and houses and furnishings! If she could only live forever in this dream-world!
Even while the thought surged through her heart, she lifted her head and saw the red rim of the sun suddenly break through the sea, and started lest the white light of day had revealed her to some passing boatman hurrying to his nets.
Her keen eye quickly swept the circle of the wide, silent world of sand-dunes, marsh and waters. No prying eye was near. Only the morning star still gleaming above saw. And they were twin sisters.
Four days flew on velvet wings before the first cloud threw its shadow across her life. Jim always slept until nine o’clock, and refused with dogged good- natured indifference to stir when she had asked him to get the wood for breakfast. It was nothing, of course, to walk a hundred yards to the beach and pick up the wood, and she did it. The hurt that stung was the feeling that he was growing indifferent.
She felt for the first time an impulse to box his lazy jaws as he yawned and turned over for the dozenth time without rising. He looked for all the world like a bulldog curled up on his bed of grass.
She shook him at last.
“Jim, dear, you must get up now! Breakfast is almost ready and it won’t be fit to eat if you don’t come on.”
He opened his heavy eyelids and gazed at her sleepily.
“All righto—-! Just as you say–just as you say.”
“Hurry! Breakfast will be ready before you can dress.”
“Gee! Breakfast all ready! You’re one smart little wifie, Kiddo.”
The compliment failed to please. She was sure that he had been fully awake twice before and pretended to be asleep from sheer laziness and indifference.
The thought hurt.
When they sat down at last to breakfast, she looked into his half-closed eyes with a sudden start.
“Why, Jim, your eyes are red!”
“Yes?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re ill–what is it?”
He grinned sheepishly.
“You couldn’t guess now, could you?”
“You haven’t been drinking!” she gasped.
“No,” he drawled lazily, “I wouldn’t say drinking– I just took one big swallow last night–makes you sleep good when you’re tired. Good medicine! I always carry a little with me.”
A sickening wave went over her. Not that she felt that he was going to be a drunkard. But the utter indifference with which he made the announcement was a painful revelation of the fact that her opinion on such a question was not of the slightest importance. That he was now master of the situation he evidently meant that she should see and understand at once.
She refused to accept the humiliating position without a struggle and made up her mind to try at once to mold his character. She would begin by getting him to cut the slang from his conversation.
“You remember the promise you made me one day before we were married, Jim?” she asked brightly.
“Which one? You know a fellow’s not responsible for what he promises to get his girl. All’s fair in love and war, they say—-“
“I’m going to hold you to this one, sir,” she firmly declared.
“All right, little bright eyes,” he responded cheerfully as he lit a cigarette and sent the smoke curling above his red head.
She sat for a while in silence, studying the man before her. The task was delicate and difficult. And she had thought it a mere pastime of love! As her fiance, he had been wax in her hands. As her husband, he was a lazy, headstrong, obstinate young animal grinning good-naturedly at her futile protests. How long would he grin and bear her suggestions with patience? The transition from this lazy grin to the growl of an angry bulldog might be instantaneous.
She would move with the utmost caution–but she would move and at once. It would be a test of character between them. She edged her chair close to his, drew his head down in her lap and ran her fingers through his thick, red hair.
“Still love me, Jim?” she smiled.
“Crazier over you every day–and you know it, too, you sly little puss,” he answered dreamily.
“You WILL make good your promises?”
“Sure, I will–surest thing you know!”
“You see, Jim dear,” she went on tenderly, “I want to be proud of you—-“
“Well, ain’t you?”
“Of course I am, silly. I know you and understand you. But I want all the world to respect you as I do.” She paused and breathed deeply. “They’ve got to do it, too, they’ve got to—-“
“Sure, I’ll knock their block off–if they don’t!” he broke in.
She raised her finger reprovingly and shook her head.
“That’s just the trouble: you can’t do it with your fists. You can’t compel the respect of cultured men and women by physical force. We’ve got to win with other weapons.”
“All right, Kiddo–dope it out for me,” he responded lazily. “Dope it out—-“
Her lips quivered with the painful recognition of the task before her. Yet when she spoke, her voice was low and sweet and its tones even. She gave no sign to the man whose heavy form rested in her arms.
“Then from today we must begin to cut out every word of slang–it’s a bargain?”
“Sure, Mike–I promised!”
“Cut `Sure Mike!'”
She raised her finger severely.
“All right, teacher,” he drawled. “What’ll we put in Sure Mike’s place? I’ve found him a handy man!”
“Say `certainly.'”
Jim grinned good-naturedly.
“Aw hell, Kiddo–that sounds punk!”
“And HELL, Jim, isn’t a nice word—-“
“Gee, Kid, now look here–can’t get along with out HELL–leave me that one just a little while.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“No?”
“And PUNK is expressive, but not suited to parlor use.”
“All right–t’ell with PUNK!” He turned and looked. “What’s the matter now?” he asked.
“Don’t you realize what you’ve just said?”
“What did I say?”
She turned away to hide a tear.
He threw his arms around her neck and drew her lips down to his.
“Ah, don’t worry, Kiddo–I’ll do better next time. Honest to God, I will. That’s enough for today. Just let’s love now. T’ell with the rest.”
She smiled in answer.
“You promise to try honestly?”
He raised his hand in solemn vow.
“S’help me!”
Each day’s trial ended in a laugh and a kiss until at last Jim refused to promise any more. He grinned in obstinate, good-natured silence and let her do the worrying.
She watched him with growing wonder and alarm. He gradually lapsed into little coarse, ugly habits at the table. She tried playfully to correct them. He took it good-naturedly at first and then ignored her suggestions as if she were a kitten complaining at his feet.
She studied him with baffling rage at the mystery of his personality. The long silences between them grew from hour to hour. She could see that he was restless now at the isolation of their sand-island home. The queer lights and shadows that played in his cold blue eyes told only too plainly that his mind was back again in the world of battle. He was fighting something, too.
She was glad of it. She could manage him better there. She would throw him into the company of educated people and rouse his pride and ambition. She heard his announcement of their departure on the eighth day with positive joy.
“Well, Kiddo,” he began briskly, “we’ve got to be moving. Time to get back to work now. The old town and the little shop down in Avenue B have been calling me.”
“Today, Jim?” she asked quickly.
“Right away. We’ll catch the first train north, stop two days, Christmas Eve and Christmas, in Asheville, and then for old New York!”
The journey along the new railroad built on concrete bridges over miles of beautiful waters was one of unalloyed joy. They had passed over this stretch of marvelous engineering at night on their trip down and had not realized its wonders. For hours the train seemed to be flying on velvet wings through the ocean.
She sat beside her lover and held his hand. In spite of her enthusiasm, he would doze. At every turn of entrancing view she would pinch his arm:
“Look, Jim! Look!”
He would lift his heavy eyelids, grunt good- naturedly and doze again.
In the dining-car she was in mortal terror at first lest he should lapse into the coarse table manners into which he had fallen in camp. She laid his napkin conspicuously on his plate and saw that he had opened and put it in place across his lap before ordering the meals.
The moment he found himself in a crowd, the lights began to flash in his eyes, his broad shoulders lifted and his whole being was at once alert and on guard. He followed his wife’s lead with unerring certainty.
She renewed her faith in his early reformation, though his character was a puzzle. He seemed to be forever watching out of the corners of his slumbering eyes. She wondered what it meant.
CHAPTER XIII
THE REAL MAN
They arrived in Asheville the night before Christmas Eve. Jim listened to his wife’s prattle about the wonderful views with quiet indifference.
They stopped at the Battery Park Hotel, and she hoped the waning moon would give them at least a glimpse of the beautiful valley of the French Broad and Swannanoa rivers and the dark, towering ranges of mountains among the stars. She made Jim wait on the balcony of the room for half an hour, but the clouds grew denser and he persisted in nodding.
His head dipped lower than usual, and she laughed.
“Poor old sleepy-head!”
“For the love o’ Mike, Kiddo–me for the hay. Won’t them mountains wait till morning?”
“All right!” she answered cheerily. “I’ll pull you out at sunrise. The sunrise from our window will be glorious.”
He rose and stretched his body like a young, well fed tiger.
“I think it’s prettier from the bed. But have it your own way–have it your own way. I’ll agree to anything if you lemme go to sleep now.”
She rose as the first gray fires of dawn began to warm the cloud-banks on the eastern horizon, stood beside her window and watched in silent ecstasy. Jim was sleeping heavily. She would not wake him until the glory of the sunrise was at its height. She loved to watch the changing lights and shadows in sky and valley and on distant mountain peaks as the light slowly filtered over the eastern hills.
She had recovered from the depression of the last days of their camp. The journey back into the world had improved Jim’s manners. There could be no doubt about his ambitions. His determination to be a millionaire was the lever she now meant to work in raising his social aspirations.
Why should she feel depressed?
Their married life had just begun. The two weeks they had passed on their honeymoon had been happy beyond her dreams of happiness. Somehow her imagination had failed to give any conception of the wonder and glory of this revelation of life. His little lapses of selfishness on their sand island no doubt came from ignorance of what was expected of him.
For one thing she felt especially thankful. There had been no ugly confessions of a shady past to cloud the joy of their love. Her lover might be ignorant of the ways of polite society. He was equally free of its sinister vices. She thanked God for that. The soul of the man she had married was clean of all memories of women. The love he gave was fierce in its unrestrained passion–but it was all hers. She gloried in its strength.
She made up her mind, standing there in the soft light of the dawn, that she would bend his iron will to her own in the growing, sweet intimacy of their married life and threw her fears to the winds.
The thin, fleecy clouds that hung over the low range of the eastern foreground were all aglow now, with every tint of the rainbow, while the sun’s bed beyond the hills was flaming in scarlet and gold.
She clapped her hands in ecstasy.
“Jim! Jim, dear!”
He made no response, and she rushed to his side and whispered:
“You must see this sunrise–get up quick, quick, dear. It’s wonderful.”
“What’s the matter?” he muttered.
“The sunrise over the mountains–quick–it’s glorious.”
His heavy eyelids drooped and closed. He dropped on the pillow and buried his face out of sight.
“Ah, Jim dear, do come–just to please me.”
“I’m dead, Kiddo–dead to the world,” he sighed. “Don’t like to see the sun rise. I never did. Come on back and let’s sleep—-“
His last words were barely audible. He was breathing heavily as his lips ceased to move.
She gave it up, returned to the window and watched the changing colors until the white light from the sun’s face had touched with life the last shadows of the valleys and flashed its signals from the farthest towering peaks.
Her whole being quivered in response to the beauty of this glorious mountain world. The air was wine. She loved the sapphire skies and the warm, lazy, caressing touch of the sun of the South.
A sense of bitterness came, just for a moment, that the man she had chosen for her mate had no eye to see these wonders and no ear to hear their music. During the madness of his whirlwind courtship she had gotten the impression that his spirit was sensitive to beauty–to the waters of the bay, the sea and the wooded hills. She must face the facts. Their stay on the island had convinced her that he had eyes only for her. She must make the most of it.
It was ten o’clock before Jim could be persuaded to rise and get breakfast. She literally pulled him up the stairs to the observatory on the tower of the hotel.
“What’s the game, Kiddo? What’s the game?” he grumbled.
“Ask me no questions. But do just as I tell you; come on!”
Her face was radiant, her hair in a tangle of riotous beauty about her forehead and temples, her eyes sparkling.
“Don’t look till I tell you!” she cried, as they emerged on the little minaret which crowns the tower.
“Now open and see the glory of the Lord!” she cried with joyous awe.
The day was one of matchless beauty. The clouds that swung low in the early morning had floated higher and higher till they hung now in shining billows above the highest balsam-crowned peaks in the distance.
In every direction, as far as the eye could reach, north, south, east, west, the dark ranges mounted in the azure skies until the farthest dim lines melted into the heavens.
“Oh, Jim dear, isn’t it wonderful! We’re lucky to get this view on our first day. It’s such a good omen.”
Jim opened his eyes lazily and puffed his cigarette in a calm, patronizing way.
“Tough sledding we’d have had with an automobile over those hills,” he said. “We’ll try it after lunch, though.”
“We’ll go for a ride?” she cried joyfully.
“Yep. Got to hunt up the folks. The mountains near Asheville!” he said with disgust. “I should say they are near–and far, too. Holy smoke, I’ll bet we get lost!”
“Nonsense—-“
“Where’s the Black Mountains, I wonder?” he asked suddenly.
“Over there!” She pointed to the giant peaks projecting here and there in dim, blue waves beyond the Great Craggy Range in the foreground.
“Holy Moses! Do we have to climb those crags before we start?”
“To go to Black Mountain?”
“Yes. That’s where the lawyer said they lived, under Cat-tail Peak in the Black Mountain Range–wherever t’ell that is.”
“No, no! You don’t climb the Great Craggy; you go around this end of it and follow the Swannanoa River right up to the foot of Mount Mitchell, the highest peak this side of the Rockies. The Cat-tail is just beyond Mount Mitchell.”
“You’ve been there?” he asked in surprise.
“Once, with a party from Asheville. We spent three days and slept in caves.”
“Suppose you’d know the way now?”
“We couldn’t miss it. We follow the bed of the Swannanoa to its source—–“
“Then that settles it. We’ll go by ourselves. I don’t want any mutt along to show us the way. We couldn’t get lost nohow, could we?”
“Of course not–all the roads lead to Asheville. We can ask the way to the house you want, when we reach the little stopping place at the foot of Mount Mitchell.”
“Gee, Kid, you’re a wonder!” he exclaimed admiringly. “Couldn’t get along without you, now could I?”
“I hope not, sir!”
“You bet I couldn’t! We’ll start right away. The roads will give us a jolt—-“
He turned suddenly to go.
“Wait–wait a minute, dear,” she pleaded. “You haven’t seen this gorgeous view to the southwest, with Mount Pisgah looming in the center like some vast cathedral spire–look, isn’t it glorious?”
“Fine! Fine!” he responded in quick, businesslike tones.
“You can look for days and weeks and not begin to realize the changing beauty of these mountains, clothed in eternal green! Just think, dear, Mount Pisgah, there, is forty miles away, and it looks as if you could stroll over to it in an hour’s walk. And there are twenty-three magnificent peaks like that, all of them more than six thousand feet high—-“
She paused with a frown. He was neither looking nor listening. He had fallen into a brown study; his mind was miles away.
“You’re not listening, Jim–nor seeing anything,” she said reproachfully.
“No–Kiddo, we must get ready for that trip. I’ve got a letter for a lawyer downtown. I’ll find him and hire a car. I’ll be back here for you in an hour. You’ll be ready?”
“Right away, in half an hour—-“
“Just pack a suit-case for us both. We’ll stay one night. I’ll take a bag, too, that I have in my trunk.”
It was noon before he returned with a staunch touring car ready for the trip. He opened the little steamer trunk which he had always kept locked and took from it a small leather bag. He placed it on the floor, and, in spite of careful handling, the ring of metal inside could be distinctly heard.
“What on earth have you got in that queer black bag?” she asked in surprise.
“Oh, just a lot o’ junk from the shop. I thought I might tinker with it at odd times. I don’t want to leave it here. It’s got one of my new models in it.”
He carried the bag in his hand, refusing to allow the porter who came for the suit-case to touch it.
He threw the suit-case in the bottom of the tonneau. The bag he stowed carefully under the cushions of the rear seat. The moment he placed his hand on the wheel of the machine, he was at his best. Every trace of the street gamin fell from him. Again he was the eagle-eyed master of time and space. The machine answered his touch with more than human obedience. He knew how to humor its mood. He conserved its power for a hill with unerring accuracy and threw it over the grades with rarely a pause to change his speeds. He could turn the sharp curves with such swift, easy grace that he scarcely caused Mary’s body to swerve an inch. He could sense a rough place in the road and glide over it with velvet touch.
A tire blew out, five miles up the stream from Asheville, and the easy, business-like deliberation with which he removed the old and adjusted the new, was a revelation to Mary of a new phase of his character.
He never once grunted, or swore, or lost his poise, or manifested the slightest impatience. He set about his task coolly, carefully, skillfully, and finished it quickly and silently.
His long silences at last began to worry her. An invisible barrier had reared itself between them. The impression was purely mental–but it was none the less real and distressing.
There was a look of aloof absorption about him she had never seen before. At first she attributed it to the dread of meeting his kinsfolk for the first time, his fear of what they might be like or what they might think of him.
He answered her questions cheerfully but mechanically. Sometimes he stared at her in a cold, impersonal way and gave no answer, as if her questions were an impertinence and she were not of sufficient importance to waste his breath on.
Unable at last to endure the strain, she burst out impatiently:
“What on earth’s the matter with you, Jim?”
“Why?” he asked softly.
“You haven’t spoken to me in half an hour, and I’ve asked you two questions.”