[Illustration: Doctor Gordon * * * had not even taken off his overcoat, which was white with snow. Page 104. ] "Doc. " Gordon By MARY E. WILKINS-FREEMAN Author of "_The Debtor, " "A Humble Romance, " "The Heart's Highway, " "Pembroke, "Etc. _ Illustrated in Water-Colors by FRANK T. MERRILL Copyright, 1906, by Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman H. L. MOORESPECIAL EDITION, For Sale exclusively by us in Rahway, N. J. NEW YORK AND LONDONTHE AUTHORS AND NEWSPAPERS ASSOCIATION1906 COPYRIGHT, 1906, BYMARY E. WILKINS-FREEMAN. _Entered at Stationers' Hall. All rights reserved_. Composition and Electrotyping byJ. J. Little & Co. Printed and bound byManhattan Press, New York. [Illustration: (FACSIMILE PAGE OF MANUSCRIPT FROM DOC. GORDON)] "DOC. " GORDON CHAPTER I It was very early in the morning, it was scarcely dawn, when the youngman started upon a walk of twenty-five miles to reach Alton, where hewas to be assistant to the one physician in the place, Doctor ThomasGordon, or as he was familiarly called, "Doc. " Gordon. The young man'sname was James Elliot. He had just graduated, and this was to be hisfirst experience in the practice of his profession of medicine. He wasin his twenties. He was small, but from the springiness of his gait andthe erectness of his head he gave an impression of height. He was verygood-looking, with clearly-cut features, and dark eyes, in which shone, like black diamonds, sparks of mischief. They were honest eyes, too. Theyoung fellow was still sowing his wild oats, but more with his handsthan with his soul. He was walking because of a great amount of restlessenergy; he fairly revelled in stretching his legs over the country roadin the keen morning air. The train service between Gresham, his homeplace, and Alton was very bad, necessitating two changes and waits ofhours, and he had fretted at the prospect. When a young man is about tobegin his career, he does not wish to sit hours in dingy little railroadstations on his way toward it. It was much easier, and pleasanter, towalk, almost run to it, as he was doing now. His only baggage was hislittle medicine-case; his trunk had gone by train the day before. He wasvery well dressed, his clothes had the cut of a city tailor. He wasalmost dandified. His father was well-to-do: a successful peach-groweron a wholesale scale. His great farm was sprayed over every spring withdelicate rosy garlands of peach blossoms, and in the autumn the treeswere heavy with the almond-scented fruit. He had made a fortune, andaside from that had achieved a certain local distinction. He was thenmayor of Gresham, which had a city government. James was very proud ofhis father and fond of him. Indeed, he had reason to be. His father haddone everything in his power for him, given him a good education, andsupplied him liberally with money. James had always had a sense ofplenty of money, which had kept him from undue love of it. He was nowbeginning the practice of his profession, in a small way, it is true, but that he recognized as expedient. "You had better get acclimated, become accustomed to your profession in a small place, before you launchout in a city, " his father had said, and the son had acquiesced. It wasthe natural wing-trying process before large flights were attempted, andthe course commended itself to his reason. James, as well as his father, had good reasoning power. He whistled to himself as he walked along. Hewas very happy. He had a sensation as of one who has his goal in sight. He thought of his father, his mother, and his two younger sisters, butwith no distress at absenting himself from them, although he lived inaccord with his family. Twenty-five miles to his joyous youth seemed butas a step across the road. He had no sense of separation. "What istwenty-five miles?" he had said laughingly to his mother, when she hadkissed him good-by. He had no conception of her state of mind withregard to the break in the home circle. He who was the breaker did noteven see the break. Therefore he walked along, conscious of an immensejoy in his own soul, and wholly unconscious of anything except joy inthe souls of those whom he had left behind. It was a glorious morning, awhite morning. The ground was covered with white frost, the trees, thehouse-roofs, the very air, were all white. In the west a transparentmoon was slowly sinking; the east deepened with red and violet tints. Then came the sun, upheaving above the horizon like a ship of glory, andall the whiteness burned, and glowed, and radiated jewel-lights. Jameslooked about with the delight of a discoverer. It might have been hisfirst morning. He begun to meet men going to their work, swinging tindinner-pails. Even these humble pails became glorified, they gave backthe sunlight like burnished silver. He smelled the odors of breakfastupon the men's clothes. He held up his head high with a sort ofgood-humored arrogance as he passed. He would have fought to the deathfor any one of these men, but he knew himself, quite innocently, uponsuperior heights of education, and trained thought, and ambition. He meta man swinging a pail; he was coughing: a wretched, long rattle of acough. James stopped him, opened his little medicine-case, and producedsome pellets. "Here, take one of these every hour until the cough is relieved, myfriend, " said he. The man stared, swallowed a pellet, stared again, in an odd, suspicious, surly fashion, muttered something unintelligible and passed on. There were three villages between Gresham and Alton: Red Hill, Stanbridge, and Westover. James stopped in Red Hill at a quick-lunchwagon, which was drawn up on the principal street under the lee of thetown hall, went in, ordered and ate with relish some hot frankfurters, and drank some coffee. He had eaten a plentiful breakfast beforestarting, but the keen air had created his appetite anew. Beside him atthe counter sat a young workingman, also eating frankfurters anddrinking coffee. Now and then he gave a sidelong and supercilious glanceat James's fine clothes. James caught one of the glances, and laughedgood-naturedly. "These quick-lunch wagons are a mighty good idea, " said he. The man grunted and took a swallow of coffee. "Where do you work?" asked James. "None of your d---- business!" retorted the other man unexpectedly. "Where do you work yourself?" James stared at him, then he burst into a roar. For a second the man'ssurly mouth did not budge, then the corners twitched a little. "What in thunder are you mad about?" inquired James. "I am going to workfor Doctor Gordon in Alton, and I don't care a d---- where you work. "James spoke with the most perfect good nature, still laughing. Then the man's face relaxed into a broad grin. "Didn't know but you wereputtin' on lugs, " said he. "I am about tired of all those damnedbenefactors comin' along and arskin' of a man whot's none of theirbusiness, when a man knows all the time they don't care nothin' aboutit, and then makin' a man take somethin' he don't want, so as to gettheir names in the papers. " The man sniffed a sniff of fury, then hishandsome blue eyes smiled pleasantly, even with mischievous confidenceinto James's, and he swallowed more coffee. "I am no benefactor, you can bet your life on that, " said James. "Idon't mean to give you anything you want or don't want. " "Didn't know but you was one of that kind, " returned the man. "Why?" The man eyed James's clothes expressively. "Oh, you mean my clothes, " said James. "Well, this suit and overcoat arepretty fair, but if I were a benefactor I should be wearing seedyclothes, and have my wallet stuffed with bills for other folks. " "You bet you wouldn't, " said the other man. "That ain't the waybenefactors go to work. What be you goin' to do at Doc Gordon's?" "Drive, " replied James laconically. "Guess you can't take care of hosses in no sech togs as them. " "I've got some others. I'm going to learn to doctor a little, too, if Ican. " The man surveyed him, then he burst into a great laugh. "Well, " said he, "when I git the measles I'll call you in. " "All right, " said James, "I won't charge you a red cent. I'll doctor youand all your children and your wife for nothing. " "Guess you won't need to charge nothin' for the wife and kids, seein' asI ain't got none, " said the man. "Ketch me saddled up with a woman an'kids, if I know what I'm about. Them's for the benefactors. I live in alittle shanty I rigged up myself out of two packin' boxes. I've got 'emon a man's medder here. He let me squat for nothin'. I git my mealshere, an' I work on the railroad, an' I've got a soft snap, with nobodyto butt in. Here, Mame, give us another cup of coffee. Mame's the girl Iwant, if I could hev one. Ain't you, Mame?" The girl, who was a blonde, with an exaggerated pompadour fastened withaggressive celluloid pins, smiled pertly. "Reckon I h'ain't no more usefor men than you hev for women, " said she, as she poured the coffee. Allthat could be seen of her behind the counter was her head, and her waistclad in a red blouse, pinned so high to her skirt in the rear that italmost touched her shoulder blades. The blouse was finished at the neckwith a nice little turn-over collar fastened with a brooch set withimitation diamonds and sapphires. "Now, Mame, you know, " said the man with assumed pathos, "that it isonly because I'm a poor devil that I don't go kerflop the minute I seteyes on you. But you wouldn't like to live in boxes, would you? Wouldyou now?" "Not till my time comes, and not in boxes, then, less I'm in a railroadaccident, " replied the girl, with ghastly jocularity. "She's got another feller, or _you_ might git her if you've got a stiddyjob, " the man said, winking at James with familiarity. "Just my luck, " said James. He looked at the girl, and thought herpretty and pathetic, with a vulgar, almost tragic, prettiness andpathos. She was anæmic and painfully thin. Her blouse was puffed outover her flat chest. She looked worn out with the miserable littletediums of life, with constant stepping over ant-hills of stupidity andpetty hopelessness. Her work was not, comparatively speaking, arduous, but the serving of hot coffee and frankfurters to workingmen was notprogressive, and she looked as if her principal diet was the left-oversof the stock in trade. She seemed to exhale an odor of musty sandwichesand sausages and muddy coffee. The man swallowed his second cup in fierce gulps. He glanced at hisIngersoll watch. "Gee whiz!" said he. "It's time I was off! Good-by, Mame. " The girl turned her head with a toss, and did not reply. "Good-by, "James said. The man grinned. "Good-by, Doc, " he said. "I'll call you when I git themeasles. You're a good feller. If you'd been a benefactor I'd run youout. " The man clattered down the steps of the gaudily painted littlestructure. The girl whom he had called Mame turned and looked at Jameswith a sort of innocent boldness. "He's a queer feller, " she observed. "He seems to be. " "He is, you bet. Livin' in a house he's built out of boxes when he makesbig money. He's on strike every little while. I wouldn't look at him. Don't know what he's drivin' at half the time. Reckon he's--" Shetouched her head significantly. "Lots of folks are, " said James affably. "That's so. " She stared reflectively at James. "I'm keepin' this quicklunch 'cause my father's sick, " said she. "I see a lot of human naturein here. " "I suppose you do. " "You bet. Every kind gits in here first and last, tramps up to swellswho think they're doin' somethin' awful funny to git frankfurters andcoffee in here. They must be hard driv. " "I suppose they are sometimes. " Mame's eyes, surveying James, suddenly grew sharp. "You ain't one?" sheasked accusingly. "You bet not. " Mame's grew soft. "I knew you were all right, " said she. "Sometimes theysay things to me that their fine lady friends would bounce 'em for, butI knew the minute I saw you that you wasn't that kind if you be dressedup like a gent. Reckon you've been makin' big money in your last place. " "Considerable, " admitted James. He felt like a villain, but he had notthe heart to accuse himself of being a gentleman before this patheticgirl. Mame leaned suddenly over the counter, and her blonde crest nearlytouched his forehead. "Say, " said she, in a whisper. "What?" whispered James back. "What he said ain't true. There ain't a mite of truth in it. " "What he said, " repeated James vaguely. Mame pouted. "How awful thick-headed you be, " said she. "What he saidabout my havin' a feller. " She blushed rosily, and her eyes fell. James felt his own face suffused. He pulled out his pocket-book, androse abruptly. "I'm sorry, " he said with stupidity. The rosy flush died away from the girl's face. "Nobody asked you to besorry, " said she. "I could have any one of a dozen I know if I jest heldout my little finger. " "Of course, you could, " James said. He felt apologetic, although he didnot know exactly why. He fumbled over the change, and at last made itright with a quarter extra for the girl. "It's a quarter too much, " said she. "Keep it, please. " She hesitated. She was frowning under her great blonde roll, her mouthlooked hurt. "What a fuss about a quarter, " said James, with a laugh. "Keep it. That's a good girl. " Mame took a dingy handkerchief out of the bosom of her blouse, untied acorner, and James heard a jingle of coins meeting. Then she laughed. "You're an awful fraud, " said she. "Why?" "You can't cheat me, if you did Bill Slattery. " "I think I don't know what you mean. " "You're a gent. " The girl's thin, coarse laughter rang out after James as he descendedthe steps of the quick-lunch wagon. She opened the door directly afterhe had closed it, and stood on the top step with the cold wind agitatingher fair hair. "Say, " she called after him. James turned as he walked away. "What is it?" "Nothin', only I was foolin' you, and so was Bill. I've got a feller, and Bill's him. " "I'll make you a present when you're married, " James called back with alaugh. "It's to come off next summer, " cried the girl. "I won't forget, " answered James. He knew the girl lied; that she wasnot about to marry the workingman. He said to himself, as he strode onrefreshed with his coarse fare, that girls were extraordinary: firstthey were bold to positive indecency, then modest to the borders ofinsanity. James walked on. He reached Stanbridge about noon. Then he was hungryagain. There was a good hotel there, and he made a substantial meal. Hehad a smoke and a rest of half an hour, then he resumed his walk. Hesoon passed the outskirts of Stanbridge, which was a small, old city, then he was in the country. The houses were sparsely set well back fromthe road. He met nobody, except an occasional countryman driving awood-laden team. Presently the road lay between stately groves of oaks, although now and then they stood on one side only of the highway. Nearlyall the oaks bore a shag of dried leaves about their trunks, like mossybeards of old men, only the shag was a bright russet instead of white. The ground under the oaks was like cloth-of-gold under the sun, thefallen leaves yet retained so much color. James heard a sharp croak, then a crow flew with wide flaps of dark wings across the road andperched on an oak bough. It cocked its head, and watched him wisely. James whistled at it, but it did not stir. It remained with its headcocked in that attitude of uncanny wisdom. Suddenly James saw before him the figure of a girl, moving swiftly. Shemust have come out of the wood. She went as freely as a woodland thing, although she was conventionally dressed in a tailor suit of brown. Herhat, too, was brown, and a brown feather curled over the brim. Shewalked fast, with evidently as much enjoyment of the motion as Jameshimself. They both walked like winged things. Suddenly James had a queer experience. One sense became transposed intoanother, as one changes the key in music. He heard absolutely nothing, but it was as if he saw a noise. He saw a man standing on the rightbetween him and the girl. The man had not made the slightest sound, hewas sure. James had good ears, but sound and not sight was what betrayedhim, or rather sound transposed into sight. He stood as motionless as atree himself. James knew that he had been looking at the girl. Now shewas looking at him. James felt a long shudder creep over him. He hadnever been afraid of anything except fear. Now he was afraid of fear, and there was something about the man which awakened this terror, yet itwas inexplicable. He was a middle-aged man, and distinctly handsome. Hewas something above the medium height, and very well dressed. He wore afur-lined coat which looked opulent. He had gray hair and a blackmustache. There was nothing menacing in his face. He was, indeed, smiling a curious retrospective smile, as if at his own thoughts. Although his eyes regarded James attentively, this smiling mouth seemedentirely oblivious of him. The man gave an odd impression, as of twopersonalities: the one observant, with an animal-like observance for hisown weal or woe, the other observant with intelligence. It was possiblythis impression of a dual personality which gave James his quick senseof horror. He walked on, feeling his very muscles shrink. Just beforeJames reached the man he emerged easily, with not the slightestappearance of stealth, from the wood, and walked on before him with arapid, swinging stride. There were then three persons upon the road: thegirl in brown, the strange man in the fur-lined coat, and James Elliot. James quickened his pace, but the other man kept ahead of him, andreached the girl. He stopped and James broke into a run. He saw the manplace a hand upon the girl's shoulder, and make a motion as if to turnher face toward his. James came up with a shout, and the man disappearedabruptly, with a quick backward glance at James, into the wood. The girl looked at James, and her little face under her brown plumed hatwas very white. "Oh, " she gasped, as if she had always known him, "I amso glad you are here! He frightened me terribly. " She tried to smile at James, although her poor little mouth wasquivering. "Who was he?" she asked. [Illustration: "You don't think he will come back?" Page 21. ] "I don't know. " A sudden suspicion flashed into her eyes. "He wasn't with you?" "No. I saw him on the edge of the woods back there, and I didn't likehis looks. When he started to follow you I hurried to catch up. " "Oh, thank you, " said the girl fervently. "Do forgive me for asking ifyou were with him. I knew you were not the minute I saw you. I did notturn my face, although he tried to make me. I don't know why, but I doknow he was something terrible and wicked. " The girl said this last witha shudder. She caught hold of James's arm innocently, as a frightenedchild might have done. "You don't think he will come back?" "No, and if he does I will take care of you. " "He may be--armed. " Suddenly the girl reeled. "Don't let me faint away. I won't faint away, "she said in an angry voice. James saw that she was actually biting herlips to overcome the faintness. "If you will sit down on that rock for a moment, " said James, "I havesomething in my medicine-case which will revive you. I am a doctor. " "I shall faint away if I sit down and give up to it, if I swallow yourwhole case, " said the girl weakly. "I know myself. Let me hold your armand walk, and don't make me talk, then I can get over it. " She wasbiting her lips almost to bleeding. James walked on as he was bidden, with the slender little brown-cladfigure clinging to him. He realized that he had fallen in with a girlwho had a will which was possibly superior to anything in hismedicine-case when it came to overcoming fright. They walked on until they came in sight of a farm-house, when the girlspoke again, and James saw that the color was returning to her face. "Iam all right now, " said she, and withdrew her hand from his arm. Shegave her head an angry, whimsical shake. "I am ashamed of myself, " saidshe, "but I was horribly frightened, and sometimes I do faint. I cangenerally get the better of myself, but sometimes I can't. It alwaysmakes me so angry. I do hope you don't think I am such an awful coward, because I am not. " "I think most girls whom I have known would have made much more fussthan you did, " said James. "You never screamed. " "I never did scream in my life, " said the girl. "I don't think I could. I don't know how. I think if I did scream, I should certainly faint. " James stopped and opened his medicine-case. "I think you had better takejust a swallow of brandy, " said he. The girl thrust back the bottle which he offered her with high disdain. "Brandy, " said she, "just because I have been frightened a little! Ishould be ashamed of myself if I did such a thing. I am ashamed now foralmost fainting away, but I should never forgive myself if I took brandybecause of it. If I haven't nerve enough to keep straight withoutbrandy, I should be a pretty poor specimen of a girl. " She looked at himindignantly, and James saw what he had not seen before (he had been soengrossed with the strangeness of the situation), that she was abeautiful girl with a singular type of beauty. She was very small, butshe gave the impression of intense springiness and wiriness. Althoughshe was thin, no one could have called her delicate. She looked as muchalive as a flame, with nerves on the surface from head to heel. Her eyeswere blue, not large, but full of light, her hair, which tossed aroundher face in a soft fluff, was ash-blonde. Brown was the last color, theoretically, which she should have worn, but it suited her. The ashand brown, the two neutral tints, served to bring out the blue fire ofher eyes and the intense red of her lips. However, her beauty lay not somuch in her regular features as in the wonderful flame-like qualitywhich animated them, and which they assumed when she spoke or listened. In repose, her face was as neutral as a rock or dead leaf. It wasneither beautiful nor otherwise. When it was animated, it was as if therock gave out silver lights of mica and rosy crystal under strong light, and as if the dead leaf leapt into flame. James thought her muchprettier than any of his sisters or their friends, but he was led quiteunknowingly into this opinion, because of his own position as herprotector. That made him realize his own male gorgeousness and strength, and he really saw the girl with such complacency instead of himself. They walked along, and all at once he stopped short. Something occurredto him, which, strange to say, had not occurred before. He was not inthe least cowardly. He was brave almost to foolhardiness. All at onceit occurred to him that he ought to follow the man. "Good Lord!" said he and stopped. "What is the matter?" asked the girl. "Why, I must follow that man. He is a suspicious character. He ought notto be left at large. " "I suppose you don't care if you leave me alone, " said the girlaccusingly. James stared at her doubtfully. There was that view of the situation. "I am going to see my friend Annie Lipton, who lives in Westover. Thereis half a mile of lonely road before I get there. That man, for all Iknow, may be keeping sight of us in the woods over there. While you aregoing back to chase him, he may come up with me. Well, run along if youwant to. I am not afraid. " But the girl's lips quivered, and she paledagain. James glanced at the stretch of road ahead. There was not a house insight. Woods were on one side, on the other was a rolling expanse ofmeadowland covered with dried last year's grass, like coarseoakum-colored hair. "I think I had better keep on with you, " James said. "You can do exactly as you choose, " the girl replied defiantly, buttremulously. "I am not in the least dependent upon men to escort me. Iwander miles around by myself. This is the first time I have seemed tobe in the slightest danger. I dare say there was no danger this time, only he came up behind like a cat, and--" "He didn't say anything?" "No, he didn't speak. He only tried to make me turn my head, so he couldsee my face, and directly it seemed to me that I must die rather thanlet him. He was trying to make me turn my head. I think maybe he was aninsane man. " "I will go on with you, " said James. They walked on for the half mile of which the girl had spoken. A suddenshyness seemed to have come over both of them. Then they began to comein sight of houses. "I am not afraid now, " said the girl, "but I dothink you are very foolish if you go back alone and try to hunt thatman. Ten chances to one he is armed, and you haven't a thing to defendyourself with, except that medicine-case. " "I have my fists, " replied James indignantly. "Fists don't count much against a revolver. " "Well, I am going to try, " said James with emphasis. "Good-by, then. You are treating me shamefully, though. " James stared at her in amazement. She was actually weeping, tears wererolling over her cheeks. "What do you mean?" said he. "Don't feel so badly. " "You can't be very quick-witted not to see. If you should meet that man, and get killed, I should really be the one who killed you and not theman. " "Why, no, you would not. " The girl stamped her foot. "Yes, I should, too, " said she, half-sobbing. "You would not have been killed except for me. You know you would not. " She spoke as if she actually saw the young man dead before her, and wasindignant because of it, and he burst into a peal of laughter. "Laugh if you want to, " said she. "It does not seem to me any laughingmatter to go and get yourself killed by me, and my having that on mymind my whole life. I think I should go mad. " Her voice shook, anexpression of horror came into her blue eyes. James laughed again. "Very well, then, " he said, "to oblige you I won'tget killed. " He, in fact, began to consider that the day was waning, and what awild-goose chase it would probably be for him to attempt to follow theman. So again they walked on until they reached the main street ofWestover. Westover was a small village, rather smaller than Gresham. They passedthree gin-mills, a church, and a grocery store. Then the girl stopped atthe corner of a side street. "My friend lives on this street, " said she. "Thank you very much. I don't know what I should have done if you hadnot come. Good-by!" She went so quickly that James was not at all surethat she heard his answering good-by. He thought again how very handsomeshe was. Then he began to wonder where she lived, and how she would gethome from her friend's house, if the friend had a brother who wouldescort her. He wondered who her friends were to let a girl like thatwander around alone in a State which had not the best reputation forsafety. He entertained the idea of waiting about until she left herfriend's house, then he considered the possible brother, and that thegirl herself might resent it, and he kept on. The western sky wasputting on wonderful tints of cowslip and rose deepening into violet. Hebegan considering his own future again, relegating the girl to thebackground. He must be nearing Alton, he thought. After a three-milestretch of farming country, he saw houses again. Lights were gleamingout in the windows. He heard wheels, and the regular trot of a horsebehind him, then a mud-bespattered buggy passed him, a shabby buggy, buta strongly built one. The team of horses was going at a good clip. Jamesstood on one side, but the team and buggy had no sooner passed than heheard a whoa! and a man's face peered around the buggy wing, not atJames, but at his medicine-case. James could just discern the face, bearded and shadowy in the gathering gloom. Then a voice came. Itshouted, one word, the expressive patois of the countryside, that wordwhich may be at once a question and a salute, may express almost anyemotion. "Halloo!" said the voice. This halloo involved a question, or so James understood it. He quickenedhis pace, and came alongside the buggy. The face, more distinct now, surveyed him, its owner leaning out over the side of the buggy. "Who areyou? Where are you bound?" James answered the latter question. "I am going to Alton. " "To Doctor Gordon's?" "Yes. " "Then you are Doctor Elliot?" "Yes. " "Get in. " James climbed into the buggy. The other man took up the reins, and thehorse resumed his quick trot. "You didn't come by train?" remarked the man. "No. You are Doctor Gordon, I suppose?" "Yes, I am. Why the devil did you walk?" "To save my money, " replied James, laughing. He realized nothing to beashamed of in his reply. "But I thought your father was well-to-do. " "Yes, he is, but we don't ride when it costs money and we can walk. Iknew if I got to Alton by night, it would be soon enough. I like towalk. " James said that last rather defiantly. He began to realize acertain amazement on the other man's part which might amount to animputation upon his father. "I have plenty of money in my pocket, " headded, "but I wanted the walk. " Doctor Gordon laughed. "Oh, well, a walk of twenty-five miles is nothingto a young fellow like you, of course, " he said. "I can understand thatyou may like to stretch your legs. But you'll have to drive if you areever going to get anywhere when you begin practice with me. " "I suppose you have calls for miles around?" "Rather. " Doctor Gordon sighed. "It's a dog's life. I suppose youhaven't got that through your head yet?" "I think it is a glorious profession, " returned James, with his haughtyyoung enthusiasm. "I wasn't talking about the profession, " said the doctor; "I was talkingof the man who has to grind his way through it. It's a dog's life. Neither your body nor your soul are your own. Oh, well, maybe you'lllike it. " "You seem to, " remarked James rather pugnaciously. "I? What can I do, young man, but stick to it whether I like it or not?What would they do? Yes, I suppose I am fool enough to like a dog'slife, or rather to be unwilling to leave it. No money could induce meanyhow. I suppose you know there is not much money in it?" James said that he had not supposed a fortune was to be made in acountry practice. "The last bill any of them will pay is the doctor's, " said DoctorGordon. Then he added with a laugh, "especially when the doctor ismyself. They have to pay a specialist from New York, but I wait untilthey are underground, and the relatives, I find, stick faster to themonetary remains than the bark to a tree. If I hadn't a little privatefortune, and my--sister a little of her own, I expect we should starve. " James noticed with a little surprise the doctor's hesitation before hespoke of his sister. It seemed then that he was not married. Somehow, James had thought of him as married as a matter of course. Doctor Gordon hastened to explain, as if divining the other's attitude. "I dare say you don't know anything about my family relations, " said he. "My widowed sister, Mrs. Ewing, keeps house for me. I live with her andher daughter. I think you will like them both, and I think they willlike you, though I'll be hanged if I have grasped anything of you so farbut your medicine-case and your voice. Your voice is all right. You giveyourself away by it, and I always like that. " James straightened himself a little. There was something bantering inthe other's tone. It made him feel young, and he resented being made tofeel young. He himself at that time felt older than he ever would feelagain. He realized that he was not being properly estimated. "If, " saidhe, with some heat, "a patient can make out anything by my voice as towhat I think, I miss my guess. " "I dare say not, " said Doctor Gordon, and his own voice was as if he putthe matter aside. He spoke to the horse, whose trot quickened, and they went on insilence. At last James began to feel rather ashamed of himself. He unstiffened. "I had quite an exciting and curious experience after I leftStanbridge, " said he. "Did you?" said the other in an absent voice. James went on to relate the matter in detail. His companion turned anintent face upon him as he proceeded. "How far back was it?" he asked, and his tone was noticeably agitated. "Just after I left the last house in Stanbridge. We went on together toWestover. She mentioned something about going to see a friend there. Ithink Lipton was the name, and she left me suddenly. " "What was the girl like?" "Small and slight, and very pretty. " "Dressed in brown?" "Yes. " "How did the man look?" Doctor Gordon's voice fairly alarmed the youngman. "I hardly can say. I saw him distinctly, but only for a second. Theimpression he gave me was of a middle-aged man, although he lookedyoung. " "Good-looking?" "My God, no!" said James, as the man's face seemed to loom up before himagain. "He looked like the devil. " "A man may look like the devil, and yet be distinctly handsome. " "Well, I suppose he was; but give me the homeliest face on earth ratherthan a face like that man's, if I must needs have anything to do withhim. " The young fellow's voice broke. He was very young. He caught theother man by his rough coat sleeve. "See here, Doctor Gordon, " said he, "my profession is to save life. That is the main end of it but, but--Idon't honestly know what I should think right, if I were asked to save_that_ man's life. " "Was he well dressed?" "More than well dressed, richly, a fur-lined coat--" "Tall?" "Yes, above the medium, but he stooped a little, like a cat, sort ofstretched to the ground like an animal, when he hurried along after thegirl in front of me. " Doctor Gordon struck the horse with his whip, and he broke into agallop. "We are almost home, " said he. "I shall have to leave you withslight ceremony. I have to go out again immediately. " Doctor Gordon had hardly finished speaking before they drew up in frontof a white house on the left of the road. "Get out, " he saidperemptorily to James. The front door opened, and a parallelogram oflighted interior became visible. In this expanse of light stood a tallwoman's figure. "Clara, this is the new doctor, " called out DoctorGordon. "Take him in and take care of him. " "Have you got to go away again?" said the woman's voice. It was sweetand rich, but had a curious sad quality in it. "Yes, I must. I shall not be gone long. Don't wait supper. " "Aren't you going to change the horse?" "Can't stop. Go right in, Elliot. Clara, look after him. " James Elliot found himself in the house, confronting the most beautifulwoman he had ever seen, as the rapid trot of the doctor's horse recededin vistas of sound. James almost gasped. He had never seen such a woman. He had seen prettygirls. Now he suddenly realized that a girl was not a woman, and no moreto be compared with her than an uncut gem with one whose facets take theutmost light. The boy stood staring at this wonderful woman. She extended her hand tohim, but he did not see it. She said some gracious words of greeting tohim, but he did not hear them. She might have been the Venus de Milo forall he heard or realized of sentient life in her. He was rapt incontemplation of herself, so rapt that he was oblivious of her. Shesmiled. She was accustomed to having men, especially very young men, take such an attitude on first seeing her. She did not wait any longer, but herself took the young man's hand, and drew him gently into theroom, and spoke so insistently that she compelled him to leave her andattend. "I suppose you are Doctor Gordon's assistant?" she said. James relapsed into the tricks of his childhood. "Yes, ma'am, " hereplied. Then he blushed furiously, but the woman seemed to noticeneither the provincial term nor his confusion. He found himself somehow, he did not know how, divested of his overcoat, and the vision haddisappeared, having left some words about dinner ringing in his ears, and he was sitting before a hearth-fire in a large leather easy-chair. Then he looked about the room in much the same dazed fashion in which hehad contemplated the woman. He had never seen a room like it. He wasused to conventionality, albeit richness, and a degree even of luxury. Here were absolute unconventionality, richness, and luxury of a kindutterly strange to him. The room was very large and long, extendingnearly the whole length of the house. There were many windows withEastern rugs instead of curtains. There were Eastern things hung on thewalls which gave out dull gleams of gold and silver and topaz andturquoise. There were a great many books on low shelves. There werebronzes, jars, and squat idols. There were a few pieces of Chinese ivorywork. There were many skins of lions, bears, and tigers on the floor, besides a great Persian rug which gleamed like a blurred jewel. Besidesthe firelight there was only one great bronze lamp to illuminate theroom. This lamp had a red shade, which cast a soft, fiery glow overeverything. There were not many pictures. The rich Eastern stuffs, andeven a skin or two of tawny hue, covered most of the wall-spaces abovethe book-cases, giving backgrounds of color to bronzes and ivorycarvings, but there was one picture at the farther end of the room whichattracted James's notice. All that he could distinguish from where hesat was a splash of splendid red. He gazed, and his curiosity grew. Finally he rose, traversed the room, and came close to the picture. It was a portrait of the woman who hadmet him at the door. The red was the red of a splendid robe of velvet. The portrait was evidently the work of no mean artist. The texture ofthe velvet was something wonderful, so were the flesh tones; but Jamesmissed something in the face. The portrait had been painted, he knewinstinctively, before some great change had come into the woman's heart, which had given her another aspect of beauty. James turned away. Then he noticed something else which seemed ratherodd about the room. All the windows were furnished with heavy woodenshutters, and, early as it was, hardly dark, all were closed, andfastened securely. James somehow got an impression of secrecy, that itwas considered necessary that no glimpse of the interior should beobtained from without after the lamp was lit. They sat often carelesslyat his own home of an evening with the shades up, and all the interiorof the room plainly visible from the road. An utter lack of secrecy wasin James's own character. He scowled a little, as he returned to hisseat by the fire. He was too confused to think clearly, but he wasconscious of a certain homesickness for the wonted things of his life, when the door opened and the woman reëntered. James rose, and she spoke in her sweet voice. It was rather lowerpitched than the voices of most women, and had a resonant quality. "Yourroom is quite ready, Doctor Elliot, " said she. "Your trunk is there. Ifyou would like to go there before dinner, I will pilot you. We have butone maid, and she is preparing the dinner, which will be ready as soonas you are. I hope Doctor Gordon and Clemency will have returned by thattime, too. " By Clemency James understood that she meant her daughter, of whom DoctorGordon had spoken. He wondered at the unusual name, as he followed hishostess. His room was on the same floor as the living-room. She threwopen a door at the other side of the hall, and James saw an exceedinglycomfortable apartment with a hearth-fire, with book-shelves, and acouch-bed covered with a rug, and a desk. "I thought you would preferthis room, " said the woman. "There are others on the second floor, butthis has the advantage of your being able to use it as a sitting-room, and you may like to have your friends, whom I trust you will find inAlton, come in from time to time. You will please make yourself quiteat home. " James had not yet fairly comprehended the beauty of the woman. He wasstill too dazzled. Had he gone away at that time, he could not for thelife of him have described her, but he did glance, as a woman might havedone, at her gown. It was of a soft heavy red silk, trimmed with lace, and was cut out in a small square at the throat. This glimpse of firmwhite throat made James wonder as to evening costume for himself. Athome he never dreamed of such a thing, but here it might be different. His hostess divined his thoughts. She smiled at him as if he were achild. "No, " said she, "you do not need to dress for dinner. DoctorGordon never does when we are by ourselves. " Then she went away, closing the door softly after her. James noticed that over the windows of this room were only ordinaryshades, and curtains of some soft red stuff. There were no shutters. Helooked about him. He was charmed with his room, and it did away to agreat extent with his feeling of homesickness. It was not unlike whathis room at college had been. It was more like all rooms. He had nofeeling of the secrecy which the great living-room gave him, and whichirritated him. He brushed his clothes and his hair, and washed his handsand face. While he was doing so he heard wheels and a horse's fast trot. He guessed immediately that the doctor had returned. He therefore, assoon as he had completed the slight changes in his toilet, started toreturn to the living-room. Crossing the hall he met Doctor Gordon, whoseized him by the shoulder, and whispered in his ear, "Not a word beforeMrs. Ewing about what happened this afternoon. " James nodded. "More mystery, " thought he with asperity. "You have not spoken of it to her already, I hope, " said Doctor Gordonwith quick anxiety. "No, I have not. I have scarcely seen her. " "Well, not a word, I beg of you. She is very nervous. " The doctor had been removing his overcoat and hat. When he had hung themon some stag's horn in the hall, he went with James into theliving-room. There, beside the fire, sat the girl in brown whom James had met thatafternoon on the road. CHAPTER II She looked up when he entered, and there was in her young girl face thevery slightest shade of recognition. She could not help it, for Clemencywas candor itself. Then she bowed very formally, and shook handssedately when Doctor Gordon introduced James as Doctor Elliot, his newassistant, and carried off her part very well. James was not sosuccessful. He colored and was somewhat confused, but nobody appeared tonotice it. Clemency went on relating how glad she was that Uncle Tom mether as she was coming home from Annie Lipton's. "I am never afraid, "said she, and her little face betrayed the lie, "but I was tired, andbesides I was beginning to be cold, for I went out without my fur. " "You should not have gone without it. It grows so cold when the sun goesdown, " said Mrs. Ewing. Then a chime of Japanese bells was heard whichannounced dinner. "Doctor Elliot will be glad of dinner, " said Doctor Gordon. "He haswalked all the way from Gresham. " Clemency looked at him with approval, and tried to look as if she hadnever seen him walking in her life. "That is a good walk, " said she. "Twenty-five miles it must be. If more men walked instead of workingpoor horses all the time, it would be better for them. " "That is a hint for your Uncle Tom, " said Gordon laughingly. "I never hint, " said Clemency. "It is just a plain statement. Men arewalking animals. They could travel as well as horses in the course oftime if they only put their minds to it. " "Well, your old uncle's bones must be saved, even at the expense of thehorse's, " said Doctor Gordon. "Bones are improved by use, " said Clemency severely, as she took herseat at the dinner-table. They all laughed. The girl herself relaxed herpretty face with a whimsical smile. It was quite evident that Clemencywas the spoiled and petted darling of the house, and that she tradedinnocently upon the fact. The young doctor, although his firstimpression of the elder woman was still upon him, yet realized thecharm of the young girl. The older woman was, as it were, crowned withan aureole of perfection, but the young girl was crowned withpossibilities which dazzled with mystery. She looked prettier, now thather outer garments were removed, and her thick crown of ash-blonde hairwas revealed. The lamp lit her eyes into bluer flame. She was a darlingof a young girl, and more a darling because she had the sweetestconfidence in everybody thinking her one. However, James Elliot, sitting in the well-appointed dining-room, whichwas more like a city house than a little New Jersey dwelling, did notfor a second retreat from his first impression of Mrs. Ewing. Behind thecoffee-urn sat the woman with whom he had not fallen in love, that wastoo poor a term to use. He had become a worshipper. He felt himself, body and soul, prostrate before the Divinity of Womanhood itself. Herealized the grandeur of the abstract in the individual. What was anyspoiled, sweet young girl to that? And Mrs. Ewing was, in truth, awonderful creature. She was a large woman with a great quantity ofblue-black hair, which had the ripples one sees in antique statues. Hereyes, black at first glance, were in reality dark blue. Her face gaveone a never-ending surprise. James had not known that a woman could beso beautiful. Vague comparisons with the Greek Helen, or Cleopatra, cameinto his head. Now and then he stole a glance at her. He dared notoften. She did not talk much, but he was rather pleased with that fact, although her voice was so sweet and gracious. Speech in a creature likethat was not an essential. It might even be an excrescence upon aperfection. It did not occur to the dazed mind of her worshipper thatMrs. Ewing might have very simple and ordinary reasons for nottalking--that she might be tired or ill, or preoccupied. But after anumber of those stolen glances, James discovered with a great pang, asif one should see for the first time that the arms of the Venus werereally gone, when his fancy had supplied them, that the woman did notlook well. In spite of her beauty, there was ill-health evident in herface. James was a mere tyro in his profession as yet, but certaininfallible signs were there which he could not mistake. They were thesigns of suffering, possibly of very great suffering. She ate verylittle, James noticed, although she made a pretense of eating as muchas any one. James saw that Doctor Gordon also noticed it. When the maidwas taking away Mrs. Ewing's plate, he spoke with a gruffness whichastonished the young man. "For Heaven's sake, why don't you eat yourdinner, Clara?" said he. "Emma, replace Mrs. Ewing's plate. Now, Clara, eat your dinner. " To James's utter astonishment, Mrs. Ewing obeyed likea child. She ate every morsel, although she could not restrain herexpression of loathing. When the salad and dessert were brought on sheate them also. Doctor Gordon watched her with what seemed, to the young man, positivebrutality. His mouth under his heavy beard quivered perceptibly wheneverhe looked at his sister eating, his forehead became corrugated, and hisdeep-set eyes sparkled. James was heartily glad when dinner was over, and, at Doctor Gordon's request, he followed him into his office. Doctor Gordon's office was a small room at the back of the house. It hadan outer door communicating with a path which led to the stable. Twosides of the room were lined with medical books, and two with bottlescontaining diverse colored mixtures. A hanging lamp was over the centerof a long table in the middle of the room. Around it dangled prisms, which cast rainbow colors over everything. The first thing which struckone on entering the room was the extraordinary color scheme: the dullgleams of the books, the medicine bottles which had lights like jewels, and over all the flickers of prismatic hues. The long table was coveredwith corks, empty bottles, books, a medicine-case, and newspapers, besides a mighty inkstand and writing materials. There were also a boxof cigars, a great leather tobacco pouch, and, interspersed among all, amultitude of pipes. The doctor drew a chair beside this chaotic tablelit with rainbow lights, and invited James to sit down. "Sit down amoment, " he said. "Will you have a pipe or a cigar?" "Cigar, please, " replied James. The doctor pushed the box toward him. James realized immediately a ten-cent cigar at the least when he beganto smoke. Doctor Gordon filled a pipe mechanically. His face still worethe gloomy, almost fierce, expression which it had assumed at table. Hewas a handsome man in a rough, sketchy fashion. His face was blurredwith a gray grizzle of beard. He wore his hair rather long, and he hada fashion of running his fingers through it, which made it look like athick brush. He dressed rather carelessly, still like a gentleman. Hisclothes were slouchy, and needed brushing, but his linen was immaculate. Doctor Gordon smoked in silence, which his young assistant was too shyto break. The elder man finished his pipe, then he rose with animpatient gesture and shook himself like a great shaggy dog. "Come, young man, " said he, "we don't want to spend the evening like this. Getyour hat and coat. " James obeyed, and the two men left the office by the outer door whichopened on the stable. As they came around by the front of the houseClemency stood in the doorway. "Are you going out, you and Doctor Elliot, Uncle Tom?" she called. "Yes, dear; why?" "Patients?" "No; we are going down to Georgie K. 's. Tell your mother to go to bed atonce. " When the two men were out in the street, walking briskly in the keenfrosty air, James ventured a question. "Mrs. Ewing is not well, is she?"he said. He fairly started at the way in which his question wasreceived. Doctor Gordon turned upon him even fiercely. "She is perfectly well, perfectly well, " he replied. "She does not look--" began James. "When you are as old as I am you can venture to diagnose on a woman'slooks, " said Gordon. "Clara is perfectly well. " James said no more. They walked on in silence under a pale sky. Above alow mountain range on their right was a faint light which indicated thecoming of the moon. The ground was frozen in hard ridges. James walkedbehind the doctor on the narrow blue stone walk which served assidewalk. "This town has made no provision whatever for courting couples, " saidDoctor Gordon suddenly, and to James's astonishment his whole manner andvoice had changed. It was far from gloomy. It was jocular even. James laughed. "Yes, it would be difficult for two to walk arm in arm, however loving, " he returned. "Just so, " said the doctor, "and the funny part of it is that thisnarrow sidewalk was intentional. " "Not for such a purpose?" "Exactly so. It was given to the town by a rich spinster who died abouttwenty years ago. It was given in her will on condition that it shouldnot be more than two feet wide. " "For that reason?" "Just that reason. She had been jilted in her youth, and her heart hadbeen wrung by the sight of her rival passing her very window where shesat watching for her lover, arm in arm with him. It was in summer, andthe dirt sidewalk was dry. She made up her mind, then and there, thatthat sort of thing should be prevented. " They had just reached a handsome old house standing close to the narrowsidewalk. In fact, its windows opened directly upon it. "This is the house, " the doctor said in corroboration. James laughed, but he wondered within himself if he were being told fish tales. DoctorGordon made him feel so very young that he resented it. He resented itthe more when he realized the new glow of adoration in his heart forthat older woman whom they had left behind. He began wondering abouther: how much older she was. He said to himself that he did not care ifshe were old enough to be his mother, his grandmother even, there was noone in the whole world like her. Then they came to the hotel, the Evarts House. It was ratherpretentious, well built, with great columns in front supporting doubleverandas. It was also well lighted. It was evidently far above the usualorder of a road house. Doctor Gordon entered, with James at his heels. They went into the great low room at the right of the door, which wasthe bar-room. Behind the bar stood an enormous man, yellow haired andyellow bearded, dispensing drinks. The whole low interior was dim withtobacco smoke, and scented with various liquors and spices. There was onone side a great fireplace, in which stood earthen pitchers, in whichcider was being mulled with red-hot pokers, eager vinous faces watching. Nobody was intoxicated, but there was a general hum of hilarity andgusto of life about the place, an animal enjoyment of good cheer andjollity. It was in truth not respectable to get entirely drunk in Alton. It was genteel to become "set up, " exhilarated, but the real gutter formof inebriety was frowned upon to a much greater extent than in manyplaces where there was less license. "Hullo!" sang out Doctor Gordon as he entered. Immediately a grin ofcomradeship overspread the pink face of the yellow-haired giant behindthe bar. "Hullo!" he responded. "Just step into the other room, and I'llbe there right away. " James followed Doctor Gordon into what was evidently the state parlor ofthe hotel. There was haircloth furniture, and a mahogany table, withvarious stains of conviviality upon its polished surface. There was afire on the hearth, and on the mantel stood some gilded vases and aglass case of wax-flowers, also a stuffed canary under a glass shade, pathetic on his little twig. Doctor Gordon pointed to the flowers andthe canary. "Poor old man lost his wife, when he had been married twoyears, " he said. "She and the baby both died. That was before I camehere. Damned if I wouldn't have pulled them through. That was her bird, and she made those fool flowers, poor little thing. I suppose if thehotel were to take fire Georgie K. Would go for them before all the cashin the till. " "He hasn't married again?" "Married again! It's my belief he'd shoot the man that mentioned it. " Then Georgie K. Entered, his rosy face distended with a smile of themost intense hospitality, and before Doctor Gordon had a chance tointroduce James, he said, "What'll you take, gentlemen?" "This is my new assistant, from Gresham, Doctor Elliot, " said Gordon. Georgie K. Made a bow, and scraped his foot at the same time with acuriously boyish gesture. "What'll you take?" he asked again. That wasevidently his formula of hospitality, which must never be delayed. "Apple-jack, " responded Doctor Gordon promptly. "You had better takeapple-jack too, young man. Georgie K. Has gin that beats the record, andpeach brandy, but when it comes to his apple-jack--it's worth the wholeState of New Jersey. " "All right, " answered James. Soon he found himself seated at the stained old mahogany table with thetwo men, and between two glasses, a bottle, and a pitcher of hot water. Doctor Gordon dealt a pack of dirty cards while the hotel keeper pouredthe apple-jack. James could not help staring at the elder doctor withmore and more amazement. He seemed to assimilate perfectly with hissurroundings. The tormented expression had gone from his face. He wassimply convivial, and of the same sort as Georgie K. He no longerlooked even a gentleman. He had become of the soil, the New Jersey soil. As they drank and played, he told stories, and roared with laughter atthem. The stories also belonged to the soil, they were folk lore, wild, coarse, but full of humanity. Although Doctor Gordon drank freely of therich mellow liquor, it did not apparently affect him. His cheeks abovehis gray furze of beard became slightly flushed, that was all. James drank rather sparingly. The stuff seemed to him rather fiery, andhe remembered the goddess in the doctor's house. He could imagine herlook of high disdain at him should he return under the influence ofliquor. Besides, he did not particularly care for the apple-jack. It was midnight before they left. Georgie K. Went to the door with them, and he and the doctor shook hands heartily. "Come again, " said GeorgieK. , "and the sooner the better, and bring the young Doc. We'll make himhave a good time. " Until they were near home, Doctor Gordon continued his strangelyincongruous conversation, telling story after story, and shouting withlaughter. When they came in sight of the house Gordon stopped suddenlyand leaned against a great maple beside the road. He stared at thehouse, two of the upper windows of which were lighted, and gave a greatsigh, almost a groan. James stopped also and stared at him. He wonderedif the apple-jack had gone to the doctor's head after all. "What is thematter?" he ventured. "Nothing, except the race is at a finish, and I am caught as I alwaysam, " replied Doctor Gordon. "The race--" repeated James vaguely. "Yes, the race with myself. Myself has caught up with me, God help me, and I am in its clutches. The time may come when you will try to racewith self, my boy. Let me tell you, you will never win. You will tireyourself out, and make a damned idiot of yourself for nothing. I shallrace again to-morrow. I never learn the lesson, but perhaps you can, youare young. Well, come along. Please be as quiet as you can when you gointo the house. My sister may be asleep. She is perfectly well, but sheis a little nervous. I need not repeat my request that you do notmention your adventure with Clemency this afternoon to her. " "Certainly not, " said James. He walked on beside the doctor, and enteredthe house, more and more mystified. James was not sure, but he thoughthe heard the faintest little moan from upstairs. He glanced at DoctorGordon's face, and it was again the face of the man whom he had seenbefore going to Georgie K. 's. CHAPTER III The next morning after breakfast, at which Mrs. Ewing did not appear, Doctor Gordon observed that she always took her rolls and coffee in bed. James followed Doctor Gordon into his office. Clemency, who had presidedat the coffee urn, had done so silently, and looked, so James thought, rather sulky, as if something had gone wrong. Directly James was in theoffice, the doctor's man, Aaron, appeared. He was a tall, lankJerseyman, incessantly chewing. His lean, yellow jaws appeared to haveacquired a permanent rotary motion, but he had keen eyes of intelligenceupon the doctor as he gave his orders. "Put in the team, " said Gordon. "We are going to Haver's Corner. Old SamEdwards is pretty low, and I ought to have gone there yesterday, but Ididn't know whether that child with diphtheria at Tucker's Mill wouldlive the day out. Now he has seen the worst of it, thank the Lord! Butto-day I must go to Haver's. I want to make good time, for there'ssomething going on this afternoon, and I want an hour off if I can getit. " Again the expression of simple jocularity was over the man's face, and James remembered what he had said the night before about againrunning a race with himself the next day. After Aaron had gone out Gordon turned to James. He pointed to his greatmedicine-case on the table. "You might see to it that the bottles areall filled, " he said. "You will find the medicines yonder. " He pointedto the shelf. "I have to speak to Clemency before I go. " James obeyed. As he worked filling the bottles he heard dimly Gordon'svoice talking to Clemency on the other side of the wall. The girl seemedto be expostulating. When Doctor Gordon returned Aaron was at his heels with an immensebottle containing a small quantity of red fluid. "S'pose you'll wantthis filled?" he said to Gordon with a grin which only disturbed for asecond his rotary jaws. "Oh, yes, of course, " replied Gordon, "we want the aqua. " James stared at him as he poured a little red-colored liquid from one ofthe bottles on the shelves into the big one. "Now fill it up from thepump, and put it in the buggy; be sure the cork is in tight, " he said toAaron. Gordon looked laughingly at James when the man had gone. "I infer thatyou are wondering what 'aqua' may be, " he said. "I was brought up to think it was water, " said James. "So it is, water pure and simple, with a little coloring matter thrownin. Bless you, boy, the people around here want their medicines by thequart, and if they had them by the quart, good-by to the doctor's job, and ho for the undertaker! So the doctor is obliged to impose upon thecredulity of the avariciously innocent, and dilute the medicine. Blessyou, I have patients who would accuse me of cheating if I prescribedless than a cupful of medicine at a time. They have to be humored. Afterall, they are a harmless, good lot, but stiffened with hereditary ideas, worse than by rheumatism. If I should give a few drops in half a glassof water, and order a teaspoonful at a time, I should fly in the face ofsomething which no mortal man can conquer, sheer heredity. Thegrandfathers and great-grandfathers of these people took their physic ondraft, the children must do likewise. Sometimes I even think themedicine would lose its effect if taken in any other way. Nobody canestimate the power of a fixed idea upon the body. All the same, it is aconfounded nuisance carrying around the aqua. I will confess, although Isee the necessity of yielding, that I have less patience with men'sstiff-necked stupidity than I have with their sins. " James drove all the morning with Doctor Gordon about the New Jerseycountry. It was a moist, damp day, such as sometimes comes even inwinter. It was a dog day with an atmosphere slightly cooler than that ofmidsummer. Overcoats were oppressive, the horses steamed. The roads weredeep with red mud, which clogged the wheels and made the hoofs of thehorses heavy. "It's a damned soil, " said Doctor Gordon. This morningafter appearing somewhat saturnine at breakfast, he was again in hisunnatural, rollicking mood. He hailed everybody whom he met. He jokedwith the patients and their relatives in the farmhouses, approachedthrough cart-tracks of mire, and fluttered about by chickens, quackinggeese, and dead leaves. Now and then, stately ranks of turkeys chargedin line of battle upon the muddy buggy, and the team, being used to it, stood their ground, and snorted contemptuously. The country people wereeither saturnine with an odd shyness, which had something almost hostilein it, or they were effusively hospitable, forcing apple-jack upon thetwo doctors. James was much struck by the curious unconcern shown by therelatives of the patients, and even by the patients themselves. In onlyone case, and that of a child suffering from a bad case of measles, wasmuch interest evinced. The majority of the patients were the very oldand middle-aged, and they discussed, and heard discussed, their symptomswith much the same attitude as they might have discussed the mechanismof a wooden doll. If any emotion was shown it was that of a singularinverted pride. "I had a terrible night, doctor, " said one old woman, and a smirk of self-conceit was over her ancient face. "Yes, mother_did_ have an awful night, " said her married daughter with a triumphantexpression. Even the children clustering about the doctor lookedunconsciously proud because their old grandmother had had an awfulnight. The call of the two doctors at the house was positivelyhilarious. Quantities of old apple-jack were forced upon them. The oldwoman in the adjoining bedroom, although she was evidently suffering, kept calling out a feeble joke in her cackling old voice. "Those people seem positively elated because that old soul is sick, "said James when he and the doctor were again in the buggy. "They are, " said Doctor Gordon, "even the old woman herself, who knowswell enough that she has not long to live. Did you ever think that thedesire of distinction was one of the most, perhaps the most, intensepurely spiritual emotion of the human soul? Look at the way these peoplelive here, grubbing away at the soil like ants. The most of them have intheir lives just three ways of attracting notice, the momentaryconsideration of their kind: birth, marriage, sickness and death. Withthe first they are hardly actively concerned, even with the second manyhave nothing to do. There are more women than men as usual, and althoughthe women want to marry, all the men do not. There remains only sicknessand death for a stand-by, so to speak. If one of them is really sick anddies, the people are aroused to take notice. The sick person and thecorpse have a certain state and dignity which they have never attainedbefore. Why, bless you, man, I have one patient, a middle-aged woman, who has been laid up for years with rheumatism, and she is fairlyvainglorious, and so is her mother. She brags of her invalid daughter. If she had been merely an old maid on her hands, she would have beenashamed of her, and the woman herself would have been sour anddiscontented. But she has fairly married rheumatism. It has been to heras a husband and children. I tell you, young man, one has to have hislittle footstool of elevation among his fellows, even if it is a mightyqueer one, or he loses his self-respect, and self-respect is the bestjewel we have. " They were now out in the road again, the team plodding heavily throughthe red shale. "It's a damned soil, " said the doctor for the secondtime. He looked down at the young man beside him, and James again feltthat resentful sense of youth and inexperience. "I don't know how you'vebeen brought up, " said the elder man. "I don't want to infuse hereticnotions into your innocent mind. " James straightened himself. He tried to give the other man a knowinglook. "I have been about a good deal, " he said. "You need not be afraidof corrupting _me_. " Doctor Gordon laughed. "Well, I shall not try, " he said. "At least, Ishall not mean to corrupt you. I am a pessimist, but you are so youngthat you ought not to be influenced by that. Lord, only think what maybe before you. You don't know. I am so far along that I know as far as Iam concerned. I did not know but you had been brought up to think thatwhatever the Lord made was good, and that in saying that this red, glueyNew Jersey soil was darned bad, I was swearing the worst way. I don'twant to have millstones and that sort of thing about my neck. I wasquite up in the Scriptures at one time. " "You need not be afraid, " said James with dignity; "I think the soildarned bad myself. " He hesitated a little over the darned, but once itwas out, he felt proud of it. "Yes, it is, " said Doctor Gordon, "and if the Lord made it, he did notaltogether succeed, and I see no earthly way of tracing the New Jerseysoil back to original sin and the Garden of Eden. " "That's so, " said James. Doctor Gordon's face grew sober, his jocular mood for the time hadvanished. He was his true self. "Did it ever occur to you that diseasewas the devil?" he asked abruptly. "That is, that all these infernalmicrobes that burrow in the human system to its disease and death, werehis veritable imps at work?" James shook his head, and looked curiously at his companion's face withits gloomy corrugations. "Well, it has to me, " said the doctor, "and let me ask you one thing. You have been brought up to believe that the devil's particularresidence was hell, haven't you?" James replied in a bewildered fashion that he had. "Well, " said Doctor Gordon, "if the devil lives here, as he must live, when there's such failures in the way of soil, and such climates, andsuch fiendish diseases, and crimes, why, this is hell. " James stared at him. Doctor Gordon nodded half-gloomily, half-whimsically. "It's so, " hesaid. "We call it earth; but it's hell. " James said nothing. The doctor's gloomy theology was too much for him. Besides, he was not quite sure that the elder man was not chaffing him. "Well, " said Doctor Gordon presently, "hell it is, but there arecompensations, such as apple-jack, and now and then there's somethingdoing that amuses one even here. I am going to take you to somethingthat enlivens hell this afternoon, if somebody doesn't send a call. I amtrying to get my work done this morning, the worst of it, so as to havean hour this afternoon. " The two returned a little after twelve, and found luncheon waiting forthem. Mrs. Ewing took her place at the table, and James thought that shedid not look quite so ill as she had done the evening before. She talkedmore, and ate with some appetite. Doctor Gordon's face lightened, notwith the false gayety which James had seen, but he really looked quitehappy, and spoke affectionately to his sister. "What do you think, Tom, " said she, "has come over Clemency? I don'tknow when there has been a morning that she has not gone for a tramp, rain or shine, but she has not stirred out to-day. She says she feelsquite well, but I don't know. " "Oh, Clemency is all right, " said Doctor Gordon, but his face darkenedagain. As for Clemency, she bent over her plate and looked sulkier thanever. She fairly pouted. "She can go out this afternoon, " said Mrs. Ewing. "It looks as if itwere going to clear off. " "No, I don't want to go, " said Clemency. "I am all out of the humor ofit. " She spoke with an air of animosity, as if somebody were to blame, but when she saw Mrs. Ewing's anxious eyes she smiled. "I would muchprefer staying with you, dear, " she said, "and finish Annie's Christmaspresent. " She spoke with such an affectionate air, that James lookedadmiringly at her. She seemed a fellow-worshipper. He thought that he, too, would much prefer staying with Mrs. Ewing than going with DoctorGordon on the mysterious outing which he had planned. However, directly after luncheon Gordon led James out into the stableand called Aaron. "Are they ready, Aaron?" inquired the doctor. Aaron grinned, opened a rude closet, and produced a number of objects, which James recognized at once as dummy pigeons. So Doctor Gordon was totake him to a pigeon-shooting match. James felt a little disgusted. Hehad, in fact, taken part in that sport with considerable gusto himself, but, just now, he being fairly launched, as it were, upon the seriousthings of life, took it somewhat in dudgeon that Doctor Gordon shouldthink to amuse him with such frivolities. But to his amazement theelder man's face was all a-quiver with mirth and fairly eager. "Show thepigeons to Doctor Elliot, Aaron, " said Doctor Gordon. James took one ofthe rude disks called pigeons from the hand of Aaron with indifference, then he started and stared at Doctor Gordon, who laughed like a boy, fairly doubling himself with merriment. Aaron did not laugh, he chewedon, but his eyes danced. "Why, they are--" stammered James. "Just so, young man, " replied Doctor Gordon. "They are wood. Aaron madethem on a lathe, and not a soul can tell them from the clay pigeonsunless they handle them. Now you are going to see some fun. Jim Goodman, who is the meanest skunk in town, has cheated every mother's son of usfirst and last, and this afternoon he is going to shoot against AlbertDodd, and he's going to get his finish! Dodd knows about it. He'll haveclay pigeons all right. Goodman has put up quite a sum of money, and hestands fair to lose for once in his life. " "Come on, Aaron, put the bay mare in the buggy. We'll drive down to thefield. We haven't got much time to spare. " Aaron backed the mare out of her stall and hitched her to themud-bespattered buggy, and the two men drove off with the wooden pigeonsunder the seat. They had not far to go, to a large field intersectedwith various footpaths and with, a large bare space, which evidentlyserved as a football gridiron. "This field is used like town property, "explained the doctor, "but the funny part of it is, it belongs to an oldwoman who is, perhaps, the richest person in Alton, and asks such aprice for the land that nobody can buy it, and it has never occurred toher to keep off trespassers. So everybody trespasses, and she pays thetaxes, and we are all satisfied, especially as there are plenty ofbetter building sites in Alton to be bought for less money. That oldwoman bites her nose off every day, and never knows it. " On this barren expanse, intersected with the narrow footpaths, coveredbetween with the no color of last year's dry weeds and grass, wereassembled some half dozen men and boys. They rushed up as the doctor'sbuggy came alongside. "Got 'em?" they cried eagerly. Doctor Gordonfumbled under the seat and drew out the batch of wooden pigeons, whichone young fellow, who seemed to be master of ceremonies, grasped andrushed off with to the queer-looking machine erected in the centre ofthe football clearing, for the purpose of making them take wing. Theothers went with him. Doctor Gordon got out of his buggy, accompanied byJames, and they, too, joined the little group. "Got the others?" askedGordon in a half whisper. "Yes, you bet. We've got the others all right, " said the young fellow, and everybody laughed. Men and boys began to gather until the field was half filled with them. They all wore grinning countenances. "For Heaven's sake, boys, don't actas if it were so awful funny, or you'll spoil the whole thing, " said theyoung fellow who had come for the pigeons. Only one face was entirely sober, even severe, as with resolve, and thatwas the face of a small, mean-looking man between forty and fifty. Hecarried a gun, and looked at once important and greedy. "That's JimGoodman, " whispered Doctor Gordon to James, "and he's a crack shot, too. Albert isn't as sure, though he's pretty good, too. " James began to catch the spirit of it himself. He felt at once disgustedand uneasy about the doctor, but as for himself he was only a youngman, after all, and sport was still sweet to his soul. He shouted withthe rest when the first pigeon was launched into the air, and AlbertDodd, a tall, serious young man, fired. He hit the bird, which at onceflew into fragments, as a clay pigeon properly should. Georgie K. Came up and joined them. He was evidently not in the secret, for he looked intensely puzzled when Jim Goodman, who had next shot, hithis bird fairly, but it only hopped about and descended unbroken. "Whatthe deuce!" he said. "Hush up, Georgie K. , " said Doctor Gordon. The other man turned andlooked at him keenly, but the doctor's imperturbable, smiling face wason the sport. Georgie K. 's great pink face grew grave. Every time AlbertDodd fired the pigeons dropped in pieces, every time Jim Goodman firedthey hopped as if they were alive. Jim Goodman swore audibly. He lookedto his cartridges. The whole field was in an uproar of mirth. Thegunshots were hardly audible for the yells and wild halloos ofmerriment. The match at last was finished. Jim Goodman's last pigeonhopped, and he was upon it in a rage. He took it up and examined it. Itwas riddled with shot. He felt it, weighed it. Then his face grewfairly black. From being only mean, he looked murderous. He was losingmoney, and money was the closest thing to his soul. He looked around atthe yelling throng, one man at bay, and he achieved a certain dignity, even in the midst of absurdity. "This darned pigeon is wood, " said he. "They are all wood, all I haveshot. This is a put-up job! It ain't fair. " He turned to the youngfellow who had taken the pigeons, and who acted as referee. "See here, John, " he said, "you ain't going to see me done this way, beyou? You know it ain't a fair deal. Albert Dodd's shot clay pigeons, andI've shot wood. It ain't fair. " "No, it ain't fair, " admitted the young fellow reluctantly, with a sideglance at Doctor Gordon. Gordon made a movement, but Georgie K. Wasahead of him. James saw a roll of bills pass from his hands to JimGoodman's. Gordon came up to Georgie K. "See here!" he said. "Well, " replied Georgie K. , without turning his head. "Georgie K. " "I can't stop. Excuse me, Doc. " Georgie K. Jumped into a light wagon onthat side of the field, and was gone with a swift bounce over the hollowwhich separated it from the road. Doctor Gordon hurried back to his ownbuggy, with James following, got in and took the road after Georgie K. "He mustn't pay that money, " said Gordon. James said nothing. "I never thought of such a thing as that, " said Doctor Gordon, drivingfuriously, but they did not catch up with Georgie K. Until they reachedthe Evarts House, and he was out of his wagon. Doctor Gordon approached him, pocketbook in hand. "See here, GeorgieK. , " he said, "I owe you a hundred. " "Owe me nothing, " said Georgie K. It had seemed impossible for his greatpink face to look angry and contemptuous, but it did. "I don't set upfor much, " said he, "but I must say I like a square deal. " "Good Lord! so do I, " said Gordon. "Here, take this money. I had Aaronmake those darned wooden pigeons. Jim Goodman has skinned enough youngchaps here to deserve the taste of a skin himself. " "He ain't skinned you. " "Hasn't he? He owes me for two wives' last sicknesses, to say nothingof himself and children, and he's living with his third, and I shallhave to doctor her for nothing or let her die. But that wasn't what Idid it for. " Georgie K. Turned upon him. "What on earth did you do it for, Doc?" saidhe. "Because I felt the way you have felt yourself. " "When?" "When the woman that made those wax-flowers, and loved that littlestuffed bird in there, died. " Georgie K. 's face paled. "What's the matter, Doc?" "Nothing, I tell you. " "What?" "Nothing. Who said there was anything? I had to have my little joke. Itell you, Georgie K. , I've _got_ to have my little joke, just as I'vegot to have my game of euchre with you and my glass of apple-jack; a mancan't be driven too far. I meant to make it right with him. He's a meanlittle cuss, but I am not mean. I intended to spend a hundred on myjoke, and you got ahead of me. For God's sake, take the money, GeorgieK. " Georgie K. , still with a white, shocked, inquiring face, extended hishand and took the roll of bills which the doctor gave him. "Come in and take something, " said he, and Doctor Gordon and Jamesaccepted. They went again into the state parlor on whose shelf were thewax-flowers and the stuffed canary, and they partook of apple-jack. Then Doctor Gordon and James took leave. Georgie K. Gave Gordon a heartyshake of the hand when he got into the buggy. Gordon looked at Jamesagain with his gloomy face, as he took up the lines. "Failed in the raceagain, " he said. "Now we've got to hustle, for I have eight calls tomake before dinner, and it's late. I ought to change horses, but thereisn't time. " CHAPTER IV The weeks went on, and James led the same life with practically novariation. The sense of a mystery or mysteries about the house neverleft him, and it irritated him. He was not curious; he did not in theleast care to know in what the mystery consisted, but the fact ofconcealment itself was obnoxious to him. As for himself, he neverconcealed anything, and when it came to mystery, he had a vague idea ofsomething shameful, if not criminal. Doctor Gordon's incomprehensiblechanges of mood, of almost more than mood, of character even, disturbedhim. Why a man should be one hour a country buffoon, the next anabsorbed gentleman, he could not understand. And he could not understandalso why Clemency had never left the house since he had met her on theday of his arrival. She evidently was herself angry and sulky at beinghoused, but she did not attempt to resist, and whenever Mrs. Ewingexpressed anxiety about her health, she laughed it off, and made someexcuse, such as the badness of the roads, or some Christmas work whichshe was anxious to finish. However, at last Mrs. Ewing's concern grew soevident that Doctor Gordon at dinner one day gave what seemed aplausible reason for Clemency remaining indoors. "If you will have it, Clara, " he said, "Clemency has a slight pain in her side, and pleurisyand pneumonia are all about, and I told her that she had better take nochances, and the weather has been raw. " Mrs. Ewing turned quite white. "Oh, Tom, " she murmured, "why didn't youtell me?" "I did not tell you, Clara dear, because you would immediately have hadthe child in a galloping consumption, and it is really nothing at all. Ionly want to be on the safe side. " "It is a very little pain, mother dear, " said Clemency. When Clemencyspoke to Mrs. Ewing, her voice had a singing quality. At such times, although the young man's very soul was possessed of the mother, he couldnot help viewing the daughter with favor. But he was puzzled about thepleurisy. The girl seemed to him entirely well, although she was losinga little of her warm color from staying indoors. Still, after all, apain is as invisible as a spirit. Her friend, Annie Lipton, spent a fewdays with her, and then James saw very little of Clemency. The two girlssat together in Clemency's room, and only the Lord of innocence andignorance knew what they talked about. They talked a great deal. James, whenever he was in the house, was conscious of the distant murmur oftheir sweet young voices, although he could not distinguish a word. Annie Lipton was a prettier girl than Clemency, though without herpersonal charm. Her beauty seemed to abash her, and make her indignant. She was a girl who should have been a nun, and viewed love and loversfrom behind iron bars. She treated James with exceeding coolness. "Annie Lipton is an anomaly, " Doctor Gordon remarked once over hisafter-dinner pipe, when they sat in the study listening to the femininemurmur on the other side of the wall. It sounded like the gentle rippleof a summer sea. "Why?" returned James. "She defies her sex, " replied Doctor Gordon, "and still there is nothingmannish about her. She is a woman angry and ashamed at her womanhood. If she ever marries, it will be at the cost of a terrible mentalstruggle. There are women-haters among men, and there are a very few--sofew as to rank with albinos and white blackbirds in scarcity--man-hatersamong women. Annie is a man-hater. " "She is very pretty, too, " said James. "If you attempt the conquest, I'll warn you there will be scalingladders and all the ancient paraphernalia of siege needed, " said DoctorGordon laughingly. James colored. "It may be that I am a woman-hater, " he replied, and looked very young. Doctor Gordon again laughed. A little later they went to Georgie K. 's. They went nearly every eveningwhile Annie Lipton was with Clemency. After she had left they did not goso often. "It is pretty dull for Clemency, " Doctor Gordon would say, andthey would remain at home and play whist with the two ladies. Jamesbegan to be quite sure that Doctor Gordon's visits to Georgie K. 's weremostly made when Mrs. Ewing looked worse than usual and did not eat herdinner. James became convinced in his own mind that Mrs. Ewing was notwell, although he never dared broach the subject again to the doctor, and although it made no difference whatever in his own attitude towardher. As well might he have turned his back upon the Venus, because ofsome slight abrasion which her beautiful body had received from theages. But one day, having come in unexpectedly alone, he found her on thedivan in the living-room, evidently weeping, and his heart went out toher. He flung himself down on his knees beside her. "Oh, what is it? What is the matter?" he whispered. Her whole body was writhing. She uncovered her eyes and looked at himpitifully, and yet with a certain dignity. Those beautiful eyes, brimming with tears, were not reddened, and their gaze was steady. "If Itell you, will you keep my secret?" she whispered back, "or, rather, itis not a secret since Doctor Gordon knows it. I wish he did not, butwill you keep your knowledge from him?" "I promise you I will, " said James fervently. "I am terribly ill, " said Mrs. Ewing simply. "I suffer at timestortures. Don't ask me what the matter is. It is too dreadful, andalthough I have no reason to feel so, it seems to me ignominious. I amashamed of being so ill. I feel disgraced by it, wicked. " She coveredher face again and sobbed. "Don't, don't, " said James, out of his senses completely. "Don't, Ican't bear it. I love you so. Don't! I will cure you. " "You cannot. Doctor Gordon does not admit that my case is hopeless, buthe gives no hope, and you must have noticed how he suffers when he seesme suffer. He runs away from me because he can do nothing to help me. That is the worst of it all. I could bear the pain for myself, but forthe others, too! Oh, I wish there was some little back door of life outof which one could slip, and no blame to anybody, in a case like this. But there is nothing but the horrible front door, which means such agonyto everybody who is left, as well as the one that goes. " Mrs. Ewing hadcompletely lost control of herself. She sobbed again and moaned. James covered one of her cold hands with kisses. "Don't, don't, " hebegged. "Don't, I love you. " Suddenly Mrs. Ewing came to the comprehension of what he said. Shelooked at his bent head--James had a curly head like a boy's--and astrange look came into her eyes, as if she were regarding him across animmeasurable gulf. Nobody had ever seemed quite so far away in the worldas this boy with his cry of love to the woman old enough to be hismother. It was not the fact of her superior age alone, it was herdisease, it was her sense of being done forever with anything like thisthat gave her, as it were, a view of earth from outside, and yet she hada sense of comfort. James was even weeping. She felt his tears on herhand. It did her good that anybody could love her so little as to beable to stay by and see her suffer, and weep for her, and not rush forthin a rage of misery like Thomas Gordon. In a second, however, she hadcommand of herself. She drew her hand away. "Doctor Elliot, " she said, "you forget yourself. " "No, no, I don't, " protested James. "It is not as if I--I were thinkingof you in that way. I am not. I know you could not possibly think of meas a girl might. It is only because I love you. I have never seenanybody like you. " "You must put me out of your head, " said Mrs. Ewing. "I am old enough tobe your mother; I am ill unto death. You must not love me in any way. " "I cannot help it" Mrs. Ewing hesitated. "I have a mind to tell you something, " she said ina low voice. "Can I rely upon you?" "I would die before I told, if you said I was not to, " cried James. "It might almost come to that, " said the woman gravely. "A very seriousmatter is involved, otherwise there would not be this secrecy. I cannottell you what the matter is, but I can tell you something which willcure you of loving me. " "I don't want to be cured, " protested James, "and I have told you it isa love like worship, it is not--" Mrs. Ewing interrupted him. "The worship of a young man is not to betrusted, " she said. "I cannot have you made to suffer. I will tell you, but, remember, if you betray me you will do awful harm. Neither thedoctor nor Clemency even must know that I tell you. The doctor knows, ofcourse, the secret; Clemency does not know, and must never know. Itwould be the undoing of all of us, the terrible undoing, if this were toget out, but I will tell you. You are a good boy, and you shall bespared needless pain. Listen. " She leaned forward and whispered close tohis ear. James started back, and stared at her as white as death. Mrs. Ewing smiled. "It hurts a little, I know, " she said, "but better thisnow than worse later. You are foolish to feel so about me; you were at adisadvantage in coming here. It is only right that you should know. Nownever speak to me again about this. Think of me as your friend, and yourfriend who is in very great suffering and pain, and have sympathy forme, if you can, but not so much sympathy that you too will suffer. Iwant sympathy, but not agony like poor Tom's. That makes it harder forme. " "Does she know?" asked James, half-gasping. "You mean does Clemency know I am ill?" "Yes. " "She knows I am ill. She does not know how terrible it is. You must helpme to keep it from her. I almost never give way when she is present. Iknew she was taking a nap this afternoon, and the pain was so awful. Itis better now. I think I will go to my room and lie down for a while. "Mrs. Ewing rose, and extended her hand to James. "I have forgottenalready what you told me, " she said. "I can never forget!" "You must, or you must go away from here. " "I can never forget, but it shall be a thing of the past, " said James. "That is right, " Mrs. Ewing said with a maternal air. "It will only takea little effort. You will see. " She went out of the room with a flounce of red draperies, and leftJames. He sat down beside a window and stared out blankly. The thoughtcame to him, how many avowals of love and deathless devotion such awoman must have listened to. Her manner of receiving his made him thinkthat there had been many. "It is quite proper, " he thought to himself. "A woman like that is born to be worshiped. " Then he thought of what shehad told him, and a sort of rage filled his heart. He recognized thefact that she had been right in her estimation of the worship of a youngman. He is always trying to turn his idol into clay. The door opened and Clemency entered, but he did not notice it. She cameand sat down in front of him, and looked angrily at him, then for thefirst time he saw her. He rose. "I beg your pardon, I did not hear youcome in, " he said. "Sit down again, " said Clemency pettishly. "Don't be silly. I am usedto having young men not see anybody but my mother when she comes into aroom, and it is quite right, too. I don't think there ever was a womanso beautiful as she, do you?" "No, I don't, " replied James. Clemency eyed him keenly. Then she blushed at the surmise which came toher, and James also blushed at the knowledge of the surmise. "You can'tbe much older than I am. I am twenty-three, " said Clemency after awhile. Then the red suffused her very throat. "I am twenty-three, too, " said James. Then he added bluntly, for hebegan to be angry, "A man can think a woman the most beautiful he eversaw without--" "Oh, I didn't think you were such a fool, " said Clemency; then sheadded, in a meek and shamed voice, "I should have been awfully disgustedwith you if you had not thought my mother the most beautiful woman youever saw, and I am used to men not seeing me. I don't want them to. Ithink I feel something as Annie Lipton does about men. She says shefeels as if she wanted to kill every man who looks at her as if heloved her. I think I should, too. " "Miss Lipton has a great many admirers, " remarked James by way ofchanging the subject. "Oh, yes, every young man for miles around, ever since she was grown up. She doesn't like any of them. " Clemency looked at James with suddenconcern. "I am going to tell you something, " she said, "even if it israther betraying confidence. I think I ought to. Annie told me she hadtaken a great dislike to you, from the very first moment she saw you, soit would be no use--" "I am sorry, " replied James stiffly, "but as I had no particular feelingfor her, except admiration of her beauty, it makes no especialdifference. " "I thought, of course, you would fall in love with her, " said Clemency. Then she added, with most inexplicable inverted jealousy, "You must havevery poor taste, or you would. You are the first one. " "Some one has to be first, " James said, laughing. "I don't know but I was horrid to tell you what I did, " said Clemency, looking at him doubtfully. "I don't thing it as horrid for a girl to assume that every man is inlove with her friend as it would be if she assumed something else, " saidJames. He knew that his speech was ungallant; but it seemed to him thatthis girl fairly challenged him to rudeness. But she looked at himinnocently. "Oh, no, I never should think that, " said she. "Being with two women sovery beautiful as my mother and Annie so much makes me quite sure thatnobody is thinking of me. It is only sometimes that I feel a little likea piece of furniture, only chairs can't walk into rooms. " She ended witha girlish laugh. Then her face suddenly sobered. "Doctor Elliot, I wantyou to tell me something, " said she. "Uncle Tom wouldn't if I asked him, and I don't dare ask him anyway. Do you think mother is very well?" James hesitated. "You ought to tell me, " Clemency said imperatively. "I have thought sometimes that she did not look quite well, " said James. "What do you think the matter is?" "It may be indigestion. " "Do you think it is?" "I don't know. Doctor Gordon has told me nothing, and Mrs. Ewing hastold me nothing. " "I thought doctors could tell from a person's looks. " "Not always. " "Doctors aren't much good anyhow, " said Clemency. "I don't care if youare one, and Uncle Tom is one. I notice people die just the same. So youthink it is indigestion? Well, it may be. Mother doesn't have muchappetite. " "Yes, I have noticed that, " said James. "Then there is something else I want to ask you, " said Clemency. "I havea right to know if you know. What does Uncle Tom make me stay in thehouse so for?" "I don't know, " replied James, looking honestly at her. "Don't you, honest? Hasn't he told you?" "No. " "Of course, I know the first of it came from my meeting that man the dayyou came here, but it does seem such utter nonsense that I have to stayhoused this way. I never met a man that frightened me before, and it isnot likely that I shall again. It does not stand to reason that that manis hanging around here waiting to intercept me again. It is nonsense, but Uncle Tom won't let me stir out. He has even ordered me to keep awayfrom the windows, and be sure that the curtains are drawn at night. Idon't know what the matter is. I can't say a word about it to mother, she is so nervous. I have to pretend that I like to stay in the house, and some days I really think I am going mad for fresh air. Uncle Tomwon't even let me go driving with him. So you don't know anything aboutit?" "Nothing whatever. " "Well, I can't stand it much longer, " said Clemency with an obstinatelook. "As for the pain in my side, that's an awful lie; I haven't theghost of a pain. I can't stand it much longer. Here's Uncle Tom. You arenot going to tell him I said anything about it?" "Of course, I am not, " answered James. He began to feel that he wasentangled in a web of secrecy, and his feeling of irritation increased. He would have gotten out of it and spent Christmas at his own home, butDoctor Gordon had an unusual number of patients suffering from grippe, and pneumonia was almost epidemic, and he felt that he should notleave. It was the second week of the new year when James, returning froma call at a near-by patient, whither he had walked, found Mrs. Ewing inthe greatest distress. It was ten o'clock at night, and she was pacingthe living-room. Immediately when he entered she ran to him. "Oh, " shegasped, "Clemency, Clemency!" "Why, what is it?" asked James. Clemency had not been at thedinner-table, but he had supposed her sulking, as she had been doing oflate, and that she had taken advantage of Doctor Gordon's absence at adistant patient's to remain away from the table. "She begged so hard to go out, and said the pain was quite well, " gaspedMrs. Ewing, "that I said she might go and see Annie, and here it is teno'clock at night, and Tom has gone to Grover's Corner, and may not behome until morning, and Aaron is with him, and I had no one to send. Ithought I would not say anything to you. I thought every minute shewould come in, and Emma has walked half a mile looking for her, and I amhorribly worried. " "I will go directly and look for her, " said James. "I will put the bayin the light buggy, and drive to Westover. Don't worry. I'll bring herback in half an hour. " "The bay is so lame she can't travel, I heard Tom say this morning, "said Mrs. Ewing. "Then I'll take the gray. " "She balks, you know. " James laughed. "Oh, I'll risk the balking, " he said. He hurried out to the stable and put the gray in the buggy. It was avery short time before James was on the road, and the gray went as wellas could be desired, but just before she reached Westover she stoppedshort, and James might as well have tried to move a mountain as thatanimal with her legs planted at four angles of relentless obstinacy. CHAPTER V James had considerable experience with, horses. He knew at once that itwas probably a hopeless undertaking to change the mare's mind, or ratherher obstinacy. However, he tried the usual methods, touching with thewhip, getting out and attempting to lead, but they were all, as he hadsupposed from the first, in vain. A terrible sense of being up againstfate itself seized him: an animal's will unreasoning, unrelenting, bears, in fact, the aspect of fate itself. It is at once sensate andinsensate. James thought of Clemency, and decided to waste no more time. The gray mare was near enough to a tree to tie her, and he tied her andset out on foot. It was a very dark night, cloudy and chilly andthreatening snow. He walked on, as it were, through softly envelopingshadows, which seemed to his excited fancy to be coming forward to meethim. He began to be very much alarmed. He had wasted most of his youngsentiment upon Clemency's mother, but, after all, he suddenlydiscovered that he had a feeling for the girl herself. He thought thatit was only the natural anxiety of any man of honor for the safety of ahelpless young girl out alone at night, and beset by possible dangers, but he realized himself in a panic. His plan was of course to godirectly to Annie Lipton's home, some two miles farther on, then itoccurred to him that Clemency must inevitably have left there. If shewere lying dead or injured on the road, how in the world was he to see?He felt in his pocket for matches, and found just one. He lit that andpeered around. While it burned he saw nothing except the frozen roadwith its desolate borders of woods and brush, a fit scene for countlesstragedies. When the match burned out he thought of something else. Supposing that Clemency were lying half-dead anywhere near the road, howwas she to know that a friend was near? Immediately he began to whistle. Whistling was a trick of his, and he had a remarkably sweet, clear pipe. He knew that Clemency, if she were to hear his whistle, would know whowas near. He whistled "Way down upon the Suwanee River" through, then hebegan on the "Flower Song" from Faust, walking all the time quiterapidly but with alert ears. He was half through the "Flower Song" whenhe stopped short. He thought he heard something. He listened, and didhear quite distinctly an exceedingly soft little voice, which might havebeen the voice of shadows--"Is that you?" "Clemency, " he cried out, and rushed toward the wood, and directly thegirl was clinging to him. She was panting with sobs, but she kept hervoice down to a whisper. "Speak low, speak low, " she said in his ear. "Idon't know where he is. Oh, speak low. " She clung to him with almost aspasmodic grip of her slender arms. "If you had been ten minutes longerI think I should have died, " she whispered. "Don't make a sound. I don'tknow where he is. " "Was it--" began James. He felt himself trembling at the thought of whatthe girl might be going to reveal to him. "Yes, that same dreadful man. Uncle Tom was right. I stayed too long atAnnie's. It was almost dark when I left there. She persuaded me to stayto dinner. They had turkey. I was about half a mile below here when he, the man, came out of the woods, just as he did before. I heard him, andI knew. I did not look around. I ran, and I heard his footsteps behindme. The darkness seemed to shut down all at once. I knew he could catchme, and remembered what I had heard about wild animals when they werehunted. I had gone a little past here, running just as softly as Icould, when I turned right into the woods, and ran back. Then I layright down in the underbrush and kept still. I heard him run past. ThenI heard him come back. He came into the woods. I expected every minutehe would step on me, but I kept still. Finally I heard him go away, butI have not dared to stir since! I made up my mind I would keep stilluntil I heard a team pass. It did seem to me one must pass, and onewould have at any other time, but it has been hours I have been lyingthere. Then I heard your whistle. I was almost afraid to speak then. Don't speak above a whisper now. Did you come on foot?" "I had the gray mare, and she balked about half a mile from here. Youare sure you are not hurt?" "No, only I am trying hard not to faint. Let us walk on very fast, butstep softly, and don't talk. " James put his arm around the girl and half carried her. She continuedto draw short, panting breaths, which she tried to subdue. They reachedthe place where the gray mare loomed faintly out of the gloom with thedark mass of the buggy behind her. "Let us get in, " whispered Clemency. "Quick!" "I am afraid she won't budge. " "Yes, she will for me. She has a tender mouth, that is why she balks. You must have pulled too hard on the lines. Sometimes I have made her gowhen even Uncle Tom couldn't. " Clemency ran around to the gray's head and patted her, and James untiedher. Then the girl got into the buggy and took the reins, and Jamesfollowed. He was almost jostled out, the mare started with such impetus. They made the distance home almost on a run. "Oh, I am so glad, " panted Clemency. "You see I can seem to feel hermouth when I hold the lines, and she knows. Was poor mother worried?" "A little. " "I know she was almost crazy. " "She will be all right when she sees you safe, " said James. "Is Uncle Tom home yet? No, of course I know he isn't, or he would havecome instead of you. Oh, dear, I know he will scold me. I shall have totell him, but I mustn't tell mother about the man. What shall I tellher? It is dreadful to have to lie, but sometimes one would rather runthe risk of fire and brimstone for one's self than have anybody elsehurt. If I tell mother she will have one of her dreadful nervousattacks. I can't tell her. What shall I tell her, Doctor Elliot?" "I think the simplest thing will be to say that Miss Lipton persuadedyou to stay to supper, and so you were late, and I overtook you, " saidJames. "Mother will never believe that I stayed so long as that, " saidClemency. "I shall have to lie more than that. I don't know exactly whatto say. I could have Charlie Horton come in to play whist, and be takingme home in his buggy. He always drives, and you could meet me on theroad. " "Yes, you could do that. " "It is a very complicated lie, " said Clemency, "but I don't know that acomplicated lie is any worse than a simple one. I think I shall have tolie the complicated one. You need not say anything, you know. You cantake the mare to the stable, and I will run in and get the lie all toldbefore you come. You won't lie, will you?" James could not help laughing. "No, I don't see any need of it, " hereplied. "It is rather awful for you to have to live with people who have to lieso, " remarked Clemency, "but I don't see how it can be helped. If youhad seen my mother in one of her nervous attacks once, you would neverwant to see her again. There is only one thing, I do feel very weakstill, and I am afraid I shall look pale. Hold the lines a minute. Don'tpull on them at all. Let them lie on your knees. " "What are you doing?" asked James when he had complied. "Doing? I am pinching my cheeks almost black and blue, so mother won'tnotice. I don't talk scared now, do I?" "Not very. " "Well, I think I can manage that. I think I can manage my voice. I amall over being faint. Oh, I will tell you what I will do. You haven'tgot your medicine-case with you, have you?" "No, I started so hurriedly. " "Well, I will go in the office way. I know where Uncle Tom keepsbrandy, and I will be so chilled that I'll have to take a little beforemother sees me. That will make me all right. I wouldn't take it formyself, but I will for her. " "And you are chilled, all right, " said James. "Yes, I think I am, " said Clemency. "I did not think of it, but I guessit was cold there in the woods keeping still so long. " Indeed, the girlwas shaking from head to foot, both with cold and nervous terror. "Itwas awful, " she said in a little whisper. James felt the girl shaking from head to foot. Suddenly a greattenderness for the poor, little hunted thing came over him. He put hisarm around her. "Poor little soul, " he said. "It must have been terriblefor you lying out there in the cold and dark and not knowing--" Clemency shrank into his embrace as a hurt child might have done. "Itwas perfectly terrible, " she said, with a little sob. "I didn't know buthe might come back any minute and find me. " "It is all over now, " James said soothingly. "Yes, for the time, " Clemency replied with a little note of despair inher voice, "but there is something about it all that I don't understand. Only think how long I have had to stay in the house, and he must havebeen on the watch. I don't know when it is ever going to end. " "I think that I will end it to-morrow, " said James with fierceresolution. "You? How?" "I am going to put a stop to this. If an innocent girl can't step out ofthe house for weeks at a time without being hounded this way, it is hightime something was done. I am going to get a posse of men and scour thecountry for the scoundrel. " "Oh, will you do that?" "Yes, I will. It is high time somebody did something. " "You saw him. You know just how he looks?" "I could tell him from a thousand. " Clemency drew a long breath. "Well, " she said doubtfully, "if you can, but--" "But what?" "Nothing, only somehow I doubt if Uncle Tom will think it advisable. There must be some mystery about all this or Uncle Tom himself wouldhave done that very thing at first. I don't understand it. But I don'tbelieve Uncle Tom will consent to your hunting for the man. I think forsome reason he wants it kept secret. " Suddenly, Clemency gave apassionate little outcry. "Oh, how I do hate secrets!" she said. "How Ihave always hated them! I want everything right out, and here I seem tobe in a perfect snarl of secrets! I wonder how long I shall have to stayin the house. " "Perhaps you are wrong, and your uncle will take measures now this hashappened for the second time, " said James. "No, he won't, " replied the girl hopelessly. "I am almost sure that hewill not. " Clemency was right. After she had made her entry and told her little liesuccessfully, and explained that she had taken some brandy because shewas chilled, and Mrs. Ewing had gently scolded her for staying so late, and kissed and embraced her, and gotten back her own composure, DoctorGordon arrived, and James, who had waited for him in the study, told himthe story in whispers. "Now I think you had better let me get a posse ofmen and scour the country to-morrow, " he concluded. "It seems to methat this thing has gone far enough. " Doctor Gordon sat huddled up before him in an arm-chair. He had not eventaken off his overcoat, which was white with snow. The storm had begun. "It will be easy to track him on account of the snow, " added James. "Tracking is not necessary, " replied Gordon, with his haggard face fixedupon James. "I know exactly where the man is, and have known from thefirst. " "Then--" began James. "You don't know what you are talking about, " Gordon said gloomily. "Iwould have that fiend arrested to-morrow. I would have him hung from thenearest tree if I had my way, but I can do absolutely nothing. " "Nothing?" "No, I can do nothing, except what I have been doing, so far in vain, itseems, to try to tire him out. I traded too much on his impatience, itseemed. I did not think he would have held out so long. " "You mean you will have to keep that poor little thing shut up the wayyou have been doing?" "I see no other way. God knows I have tried to think of another, day andnight. " "I don't see why you or I could not take her out sometimes when wevisit patients anyway, " said James in a bewildered fashion. "You don't understand, " replied Doctor Gordon irritably. "The main pointis: the girl must not be even seen by that man. That is the trouble. Driving, she might be perfectly safe; in fact, in one way she is safeanyhow. She is not in any danger of bodily harm, as you may think, but Idon't want her seen. " "Why not let me take her out sometimes of an evening then?" said James, more and more mystified. "If she wore a veil, and went out driving inthe evening, I can't see how anybody could get a glimpse of her. " "You don't understand that we have to deal with a very devil incarnate, "said Doctor Gordon wearily. "He will be on the watch for just that verymanoeuvre. However, perhaps we may be able to manage that; I will see. " "She will be ill if she remains in the house so closely, " said James, "especially a girl like her, who has been accustomed to lead such anoutdoor life. In fact, I don't think she does look very well now. It istelling on her. " "Yes, I think it is, " agreed Doctor Gordon gloomily, "but again, I say, I see no other way out of it. However, perhaps you or I can take her outsometimes of an evening. I suppose it had better be you, on someaccounts. I will see. Well, I will take off my coat and get something toeat. I suppose Clara and Clemency have gone to bed. " "They went hours ago, " replied James. It was, in fact, two in themorning. James followed the doctor, haggard and weary, into the kitchen, where, according to custom at such times, some dinner had been left tokeep warm on the range. "I'll sit down here, " said Doctor Gordon. "It iswarmer than in the dining-room, and I am chilled through. If you don'tmind, Elliot, I wish you would get me a bottle of apple-jack from thedining-room. I must have something to hearten me up, or I shall go bythe board, and I don't know what will become of her--of them. " James sat and waited while the doctor ate and drank. When he hadfinished he looked a little less haggard. He stretched himself beforethe warm glow from the range and laughed. "Now I feel my fighting bloodis up again, " he said. "After all, if there is anything in the GoodBook, the wicked shall not always triumph, and I may win out. I shalldo my best anyhow. But I confess you took the wind out of me with whatyou told me when I came in. I am glad Clara does not know. Poor littleClemency having to pave her way with lies, but it would kill Clara. Oh, God, it does seem as if I had enough before. Take my advice, young man, and try to think more of yourself than anybody else in the world. Don'tlet your heart go out to anybody. Just as sure as you do, the door ofthe worst torture-chamber in creation swings open. The minute you becomevulnerable through love, you haven't a strong place in your wholearmor. " "What a doctrine!" observed James. "I know it, but I have taken a fancy to you, boy; and hang it if I wantyou to suffer as I have to. " "But a man would not be a man at all if he did not think enough ofsomebody to suffer, " said James, and now he was thinking of poor littleClemency, and how she had nestled up to him for protection. "Maybe, " said Doctor Gordon gloomily, "but sometimes I wonder whether itpays in the long run to be what you call a man. Sometimes I wish that Iwere a rock or a tree. I do to-night. " "You will feel better after you have had a little sleep, " James said, as the two men rose. Suddenly one of Doctor Gordon's inexplicable changes of mood came overhim. He laughed. "If it were not so late we would go down to GeorgieK. 's, " said he. "I never felt more awake. Well, I guess it's too late. You must be dead tired yourself. I have not thanked you at all for yourrescue of the girl. She would have been down with a serious illness ifyou had not gone, for she would have lain in that place being snowedover until somebody came. " "She was mighty clever to do what she did, " said James. "Yes, she is clever, " returned Doctor Gordon. "She is a good girl, andit stings me to the very heart that she has to suffer such persecution. Well, 'all's well that ends well. ' Did it ever occur to you that Godmade up to mankind for the horrors of creation, by stating that therewould be an end to it some day? Good God, if this terrible world had toroll on to all eternity!" Doctor Gordon laughed again his unnaturallaugh. "Fancy if you were awakened to-night by the last trump, " he said. "How small everything would seem. Hang it, though, if I wouldn't try tohave a hand at that man's finish before the angel of the Lord got hisflaming sword at work. " James looked at him with terror. "Don't mind me, boy, " said Gordon. "I don't mean to blaspheme; but Jobis not in it with me just now. You cannot imagine what I had to contendwith before this melodramatic villain appeared on the stage. Sometimes Ithink this is the finish, " Gordon's mouth contracted. He looked savage. James continued to stare at him. Gordon laid his hand on James'sshoulder. "Thank the Lord for one thing, " he said almost tenderly, "thathe sent you here. Between us we will take care of poor little Clemencyanyhow. Now go to bed, and go to sleep. " James obeyed as to the one, but he could not as to the other. He became, as the hours wore on, so nervous that he was half-inclined to take asleeping powder. The room seemed full of flashes of lightning. He heardsounds which made him cold with horror. He was highly strung nervously, and was really in a state bordering upon hysteria. The mystery whichsurrounded him was the main cause. He was never himself before anunknown quantity. He had too much imagination. He made all sorts ofsurmises as to the stranger who was haunting Clemency. Starting with twoknown quantities, he might have accomplished something, but here he hadonly one: Clemency herself. He had a good head for algebra, but a mancannot work out a problem easily with only one known quantity. He beganto wonder if the poor girl herself were sleeping. He realized a sort ofprotective tenderness for her, and indignation on her behalf. It did notoccur to him as being love. Still the image of her wonderful motherdominated him. But his mind dwelt upon the girl. He thought of a piazzawhose roof opened as he knew upon Clemency's room. He wondered if a manlike that would stick at anything. Then he recalled what Doctor Gordonhad said about Clemency's not being in any bodily danger, and again hespeculated. The room began to grow pale with the late winter dawn. Familiar objects began to gain clearness of outline. There were twowindows in James's room. They gave upon the piazza. Suddenly James madea leap from his bed. He sprang to one of the windows. Flattened againstit was the face of the man. But the face was so destitute ofconsciousness of him, that James doubted if he saw rightly. The wideeyes seemed to gaze upon him without seeing him, the mouth smiled as ifat something within. The next moment James was sure that the face wasnot there. He drew on his trousers, thrust his feet into his shoes, andwas out of his room and the house, and on the piazza. It was stillsnowing, but the dawn was overcoming the storm. The whole world was litwith dead white pallor like the face of a corpse. James rushed thelength of the piazza. He looked at the walk leading to it. He thought hecould distinguish footprints. He looked on the piazza, but the wind, being on the other side of the house, there was not enough snow there tomake footprints visible. The snow on the walk was drifted. He looked atit closely, and made sure of deep marks. He stood for a moment undecidedwhat to do. He disliked to arouse Doctor Gordon. He was afraid ofawakening Mrs. Ewing, if he ventured into the upper part of the house. Then he thought of the man Aaron who slept in a room over the stable. Hereëntered the house, locked the front door, went softly into thedoctor's study, and out of the door which was near the stable. Then hemade a hard snowball, and threw it at Aaron's window. The window openeddirectly, and Aaron's head appeared. James could see, even in the dimlight, and presumably just awakened from sleep, the rotary motion of hisjaws. He was probably not chewing anything, simply moving his mouth fromforce of habit. "Hullo!" said Aaron, "that you Doctor Gordon?" "No, it is I, " replied James. "Put on something as quick as you can, andcome down here. Something is wrong. " Aaron's head disappeared. In an incredibly short space of time thestable door was unlocked and slid cautiously back, and Aaron stoodthere, huddled into his clothes. "What's up?" he asked. "I don't know. Have you got a lantern in the stable?" "Yep. " "Light it quick, then, and come along with me. " Aaron obeyed. "Anybody sick, " he asked, coming alongside with theflashing lantern. He threw a cloth over it so as to prevent the raysshining into the house windows. "I don't want to frighten her, " he said, and James knew that he meant Mrs. Ewing. "She's awful nervous, " saidAaron. Then he said again, "What's up?" "I saw a man's face looking into one of my windows, " replied James. Aaron gave a low whistle. "Somebody wanted the doc?" he inquired. "No, " replied James shortly, "it was not. " "Must have been. " "No, it was not. " "Must have been, " repeated Aaron, chewing. "I tell you it was not. I knew--" James stopped. He suddenly wonderedhow much he ought to tell the man, how much Doctor Gordon had told him. Aaron chewed imperturbably, but a sly look came into his face. "I haveeyes, and they see, and ears, and they hear, " he said, after an oddScriptural fashion, "but don't you tell me nothin', Doctor Elliot. Either I take what I get from the fountain-head, or I makes my ownconclusions that I can't help. Don't you tell me nothin'. S'pose we lookan' see ef there's footprints that show anythin'. " Aaron flashed the lantern, all the time carefully shading it from thehouse windows, over the walk which led to the front door and the piazza. James followed him. "Well, " said Aaron, "there's been somebody here, but, with snow like this, it might have been a monkey or a rhinocerosor an alligator. You can't make nothin' of them tracks. But they do goout to the road, and turn toward Stanbridge. " "Suppose we--" began James. He was about to suggest following theprints, when he remembered Doctor Gordon's injunction to the contrary. However, Aaron anticipated him. "Might as well leave the devil alone, "said he. "It might have been the old one himself, for all we can tell bythem tracks. You had better go back to bed, Doctor Elliot. You ain't gotmuch on. It ain't near breakfast time yet. Better go back to bed. " And James thought such a course the wiser one himself. He went back tobed, but not to sleep. He kept his eyes fixed upon the windows. He wasprepared at any instant, should the man reappear, to spring out. He feltalmost murderous. "It has come to a pretty pass, " he thought, "if thatscoundrel, whoever he may be, is lurking around the house at night. " The daylight came slowly on account of the storm. When it did come, itwas an opaque white daylight. James began to smell coffee and fryingham. He rose and dressed himself, and looked out of the window. It waslike looking into a blurred mirror. He began to wonder if he could havebeen mistaken, if possibly that face had been simply a vision which hadcome from his overwrought brain. He wondered if he should tell DoctorGordon, if it might not disturb him unnecessarily. He wondered if heshould have enforced secrecy upon Aaron. He was still undecided when theJapanese gong sounded, and he went out to breakfast. Clemency waslooking worn and ill. Somehow the sight of her piteous little facedecided James. He thought how easily an athletic man could climb up oneof those piazza posts, which was, moreover, encircled by a strong oldvine which might almost serve as ladder. He made up his mind to tellDoctor Gordon, and he did tell him when they were out upon their rounds, tilting and sliding along the drifted country roads in an old sleigh. "Idon't think I can be mistaken, " he said when he had finished. Doctor Gordon looked at him intently. "You are sure, " he said. "You area nervous subject for a man, and you had not slept, and you had this manvery much on your mind, and there must have been some snow on thewindow which could produce an illusion. Be very sure, because this isserious. " James thought again of Clemency's little white face. "Yes, " he said, "Iam sure. " "You have no doubt at all?" "None. The man had his face staring into the room. He did not seem tosee me, but looked past me at the bed. " "He might easily have thought that room, being on the ground floor andaccessible to night-calls, was mine, " said Doctor Gordon, as if tohimself. "I thought how easily he could have climbed up one of the piazza poststo her room, " said James. The Doctor started. "Yes, that is so, " he said. "He might have had twomotives. That is so. " The next call was at a patient's who had a slight attack of grippe. Doctor Gordon left James there, saying that he would make another calland be back for him directly. James noticed how he urged the horses outof the drive at almost a run. He was back soon, and James having made uphis prescription, went out and got into the sleigh. Doctor Gordon lookedat him gloomily. "He is no longer where he has been staying, " he said, and his face settled into a stern melancholy. That evening, although thestorm continued, he suggested a visit to Georgie K. 's; and at suppertime he insisted upon Clemency's occupying another room that night. "Thewind is on your side of the house, " he said, "and I am afraid you willtake more cold. " Clemency stared and pouted, then said, "All right, Uncle Tom!" CHAPTER VI Even the apple-jack and euchre at Georgie K. 's were not sufficient toentirely establish Doctor Gordon in his devil-may-care mood. Georgie K. Kept looking at him with solicitation, which had something tender aboutit. "Don't you feel well, Doc?" he asked. "Never felt better in my life, " returned Gordon quickly. "To-night I amfeeling particularly good, because I really think I have evolved anutterly new theory of death and disease which ought to make me famous, if I ever get a chance to write a book about it. " Georgie K. Stared at him inquiringly. "I don't know that you will understand, old man, " said Gordon, "but hereit is. It is simple in one way. Nobody will deny that we come of theearth; well, we are sick and die of the earth. We grow old and weary anddrop into our graves, because of the tremendous, though unconscious andinvoluntary, wear upon nerves and muscles and emotion which is requiredto keep us here at all. Gravitation kills us all in the end, just assurely as if we fell off a precipice. Gravitation is the destroyer, andgravitation is earth-force. The same monster which produces us devoursus. That's so. I hope I shall get a chance to write that book. Clubs aretrumps; pass. " "Sure you are well, Doc?" inquired Georgie K. , again scowling anxiously. "Never felt better, didn't I just say so? You are a regular old hen, Georgie K. You cluck at a fellow like a setting hen at one chicken. " Still Doctor Gordon's gloomy face, although he tried to be jocular, didnot relax. Going home late that night, or rather early next morning, helaid his hand heavily on James's shoulder. "Boy, I am about at the finish!" he groaned out. "Now, see here, Doctor Gordon, can't I be of some assistance if you wereto tell me?" asked James. He passed his hand under the older man's arm, and helped him through a snowdrift as if he had been his father. A greatcompassion filled his heart. But Gordon only groaned out a great sigh. "No, " he said. "Secrecy is theone shield I have. I don't say weapon, but shield. In these latter dayswe try to content ourselves with shields; and secrecy is the strongestshield on earth. If I were going to commit a crime, I should never evenintimate the slightest motive for it to any man living. I should trustno man living to help me through with it. " James felt a vague horror steal over him. He tried to speak lightly tocover it. "I trust there is no question of crime?" he said, laughing. "Not the slightest, " replied Gordon. "I have no intention to use aweapon, but my shield I must stick to. Thank the Lord, you were awakelast night, and to-night Clemency is in another room. By the way, I havebought a dog. " "A dog?" "Yes, a bull terrier, well trained, but he has a voice like a whole packof hounds. Clemency likes dogs. I will venture that no one comes nearthe house after this without waking him up. " "You will keep him tied though. " "Yes, unless I get driven too far, " replied Gordon grimly. "Does Mrs. Ewing like dogs?" "She is as fond of them as Clemency. " When, the next day, the dog arrived James was assured of the fact thatboth Clemency and Mrs. Ewing did like dogs. They seemed more pleasedthan he had ever seen them, and the dog responded readily to theiradvances. He was a splendid specimen of his breed, very large, without aspot on his white coat, and with beautiful eyes. Doctor Gordon had astaple fixed in the vestibule, and the dog was leashed to it at night. "I can't have my patients driven away, " he said with a laugh. That evening Doctor Gordon had a call, and he took Aaron with him. Thatleft James alone with Clemency, as Mrs. Ewing retired almost immediatelyafter Doctor Gordon left. After the jingle of the sleigh-bells had died away Clemency laid downher work and looked at James. The new dog was lying at her feet. "UncleTom bought this dog on account of him, " she said. As she spoke, she gavean odd significant gesture over her shoulder as if the man were there, and a look of horror came over her face. Immediately the dog growled, and sprang up, raced to the door, and let forth a volley of howls andbarks. "He knows, " said Clemency. "Isn't it queer? That dog knows thereis something wrong just by the way I spoke and looked. " James himself was not quite so sure. He glanced at the closed shutters. Then he went himself to the door to be sure that it was bolted as usual, and through into the study. Everything was fast, but the dog continuedto race wildly back and forth from door to windows, barking wildly, witha slender crest of hair erect on his glossy white back. Emma, the maid, came in from the kitchen, and met James and Clemency in the hall. Shelooked white, and was trembling. "I know there was somebody about thehouse, " she said. James hesitated. He thought of a possible patient. Still there had beenno ring at the office door. He considered a moment. Then he sentClemency, the maid, and the dog back into the parlor, and before heopened the outer door of the office he locked the other whichcommunicated with the rest of the house, and put the key in his pocket. Then he threw open the outer door and called, "Anybody there?" Utter silence answered him. He looked into a black wall of night. It wasnot snowing, but the clouds were low and thick, and no stars werevisible. He called again in a shout, "Hullo there! Who is it?" andobtained no response. Then he closed the door, fastened it, and returnedto the living-room. "I guess you were right, " he said to Clemency. "Yes, I think so, " said Clemency. She spoke to Emma. "Jack acted sobecause of something I said to Doctor Elliot, " she added. "He thoughtsomething was wrong. He is very intelligent. " The dog was again lying ather feet. But Emma shook her head obstinately. She was the middle-aged daughter ofa New Jersey farmer, and had lived with the family ever since they hadresided in Alton. She had a harsh face, although rather good-looking, "Ihave been used to dogs all my life, " said she, "and I never knowed a dogto act like that unless there was somebody about the house. " "Well, I have done all I could, " said James. "I called out the officedoor, and nobody answered. It could not have been a patient. " "There was somebody about the house, " repeated Emma. "Well, I must goand mix up the bread. " When she was gone, Clemency looked palely at James. "Oh, " she said, "doyou think it could have been that man?" "No, " replied James firmly; "it must have been your gesture. That is avery intelligent dog, and dogs have imagination. He imagined somethingwrong. " "I hope it was that, " said Clemency faintly. "It seems to me I shoulddie if I thought that terrible man were hanging about the house. It isbad enough never to be able to go out of doors. " "Doctor Gordon says I may take you out driving some evening, " said Jamesconsolingly. Clemency looked at him with a brightening face. "Did he?" "Yes. " Then to James's utter surprise Clemency broke down, and began to cry. "Oh, " she wailed, "I don't know as I want to go. I am afraid all thetime. If we were out driving, and he came up to the horse's head, whatcould we do?" "He would get a cut across the face that he would remember, " Jamesreturned fiercely. "But he would see me. " "It would be dark. " "He might have a lantern. " "You can wear a thick veil. " Clemency sobbed harder than ever. "Oh, no, " she wailed, "I don't want togo so, in the dark, with a thick veil over my face, thinking everyminute he may come. Oh, no, I don't want to go. " "You poor little soul, " said James, and there was something in his voicewhich he himself had never heard before. Clemency glanced up at himquickly, and he saw as plainly as if he had been looking in a glasshimself in her blue eyes. Instantly emotions of which he had dreamed, but never experienced, leaped up in his heart like flame. He knew thathe loved Clemency. What he had felt for her mother had been passionlessworship, giving all, and asking nothing. This was love which asked aswell as gave. "Clemency, " he began, and his voice was hoarse withemotion. She turned her head away, the tears were still on her cheeks, but they were very red, and her cheeks were dimpling involuntarily. "Well?" she whispered. "Do you care anything about--me?" Clemency nodded, still keeping her face averted. "That means--" Clemency said nothing. "That means you love me, " James whispered. Clemency nodded again. Then she turned her head slowly, and gave him anarrow blue glance, and smiled like a shy child. "I was afraid--" she began. "Afraid of what, dear?" James put his arm about the girl, and theashe-blonde head dropped on his shoulder. "Afraid you--didn't. " "Afraid I didn't care?" Clemency nodded against his breast. "I think I must have cared all the time, only at first, when I saw yourmother--" Clemency raised her head immediately and gave it an indignant toss. "There, " said she. "I knew it. Very well, if you would rather be mystepfather, you can, only I think you would be a pretty one, no older, to speak of, than I am, and I know my mother wouldn't have you anyway. The idea of your thinking that my mother would get married again anyway, and especially to you, " Clemency said witheringly. She sat up straightand looked at James. "I wish your father were a widower, then I wouldmarry him the minute he asked me, " said she, "and see how you wouldlike it. I guess you would have a step-mother who would make you walkchalk. " Clemency tossed her head again. Then she gave a queer littlewhimsical glance at James, and both of them burst out laughing, and shewas in his arms again, and he was kissing her. "There, that is enough, "said she presently. "I once wore out a doll I had kissing her. She waswax, and it was warm weather, and I actually did wear that doll out. Thecolor all came off her cheeks, and she got soft. " "You are not a doll, darling, " said James fervently, and he would havekissed her again, but she pushed him away. "No, " said she, "I know thecolor won't come off my cheeks, but I might get soft like that doll. Onecan never tell. You must stop now. I want to talk to you. It is allright about my mother. " "It was only because I never saw such a woman in all my life before, "said James. "I never thought of marrying. " "You would have had to take it out in thinking, " said Clemency, "but itis all right. I think myself that my mother is the most wonderful womanthat ever lived. I think the old Greek goddesses must have looked justlike her. I don't wonder you felt so about her. I don't know as I shouldhave thought much of you if you hadn't. Why, everybody falls down andworships her. Of course I know that I am nothing compared to her. Ishould be angry if you really thought so. " "I don't think so in one way, " James said honestly. "I don't think youare as beautiful as your mother, but I love you, Clemency. " "Well, that will do for me, " said Clemency. "No, you need not kiss meagain. I think myself I shall make you a better wife than astepdaughter. You need not think for one minute that I would have mindedyou as I do Uncle Tom. " "But you will have to when we are married, " said James. Clemency blushed and quivered. "Well, maybe I will, " she whispered. "Isuppose I shall be just enough of a fool to stay in the house, if youorder me, the way I do when Uncle Tom does. " "You shall stay in the house for no man alive when I have you incharge, " said James. "Clemency--" "What?" "I will take you out now, if you say so. I can protect you. " "I know you can, " Clemency said, "but I guess we had better not. You seeUncle Tom doesn't know yet, and he will be coming home, and--" "I am going to tell him just as soon as he does, " declared James. "I wonder if you had better not wait, " Clemency said thoughtfully. "Wait? Why?" "Nothing, only poor Uncle Tom is frightfully worried about somethingnow. He worries about that dreadful man, and I am afraid he worriesabout mother. I don't know exactly what he worries about; but I don'twant him worried about anything else. " "I can't see for the life of me why he should worry about this, " saidJames with a piqued air. He was, in fact, considering quite naïvely thathe was not a bad match, taking into consideration his prospects, andClemency evidently needed all the protection she could get. Clemency understood directly what his tone implied. "Oh, goodness, " saidshe, "of course, as far as you are concerned, Uncle Tom will be pleased. Why shouldn't he? and so will mother. Here you are young and handsome, and well educated, and good, what more could anybody want for a girl, unless they were on the lookout for a ducal coronet or something of thatsort? It isn't that, only there is something queer, there must besomething queer, about that man, and I don't know how much this mightcomplicate it. I don't know but Uncle Tom might have more occasion toworry. " "I don't see why, " said James mystified, "but I'll wait a few days ifyou say so, only I hate to have anything underhanded, you know. Howabout your mother?" "Please wait and tell her when you tell Uncle Tom, " pleaded Clemency. All the time she was completely deceiving the young man. What she wasreally afraid of was that James himself might run into danger from thismysterious persecutor of hers if the fact of her betrothal became known. "I shall not mind staying in the house at all now, " she added. Anexpression came over her face which James did not understand, which noman would have understood. Clemency was wonderfully skilled atneedle-work, and she had plenty of material in the house. She wasreflecting innocently how she could begin at once upon some daintylittle frills for her trousseau. A delight, purely feminine, filled herfair little face. "All the same, " said James, "I am going to take you out before long. Youmust have some fresh air. " "I don't mind, " said Clemency, then she broke off suddenly. She ran tothe farther end of the room, sat down, and snatched a book from thetable and opened it in the middle, "It is Uncle Tom, " she remarked. James laughed, crossed the room swiftly, kissed her, then went into theoffice to greet Doctor Gordon. Doctor Gordon stood by the office firetaking off his overcoat. He looked gloomier than usual. "Who is inthere?" he asked, pointing to the living-room wall. "Your niece, " answered James. He felt himself color, but the other mandid not notice it. "Mrs. Ewing has gone to bed?" "Yes, went directly after you left. " Doctor Gordon's face grew darker. He had tossed his coat over a chair, and stood staring absently at the table with its prismatic lights. "I know where he is, " he said presently in a whisper. "You mean?" "Yes, " said Doctor Gordon impatiently. "You know whom I mean. I saw himgo in--well, no matter where. " "I suspect that he has been hanging about here, " said James. "What makes you think so?" "The dog barked and acted queer. " "Dogs always did hate him, " said Doctor Gordon, with a queer expression. Then he gave himself a shake. Here he said: "Let's have something hotand a smoke. " He called to Emma to bring some hot water and sugar andlemons and glasses. Then he produced a bottle from a cabinet in theoffice, and himself brewed a sort of punch, the like of which James hadnever tasted before. "That's my own recipe, " said Doctor Gordon, laughing. "Nobody knows whatit is, not even Georgie K. But--" he hesitated a little, then he addedlaughing, "I have left it in my will for Georgie K. I made my will somelittle time ago. " James felt it incumbent upon himself to say something about DoctorGordon being still a young man comparatively, and healthy. To hissanguine young mind a will seemed ominous. "Well, I have not reached the allotted span, " Gordon replied, "buthealthier men than I have come to their end sooner than they expected, and I wanted to make sure of some things. I wanted especially to makesure that Clemency--Mrs. Ewing has relatives in the West, and--" James felt somewhat bewildered. He could not quite see what Gordonmeant, but he took another sip of the golden, fragrant compound beforehim, and again remarked upon its excellence. "That makes me think, " said Gordon, evidently glad himself to turn theconversation. "A sip of this will do poor little Clemency good. You sayshe is in the parlor. " "Yes. " Gordon opened the door and called Clemency, who came with a littlereluctance. The girl was afraid of her uncle's eyes. She sidled into theoffice like a child who had done something wrong. She took her littleglass of punch, and never looked at James or her uncle. James, too, didnot look at her. He smoked, and almost turned his back upon her. DoctorGordon looked from one to the other, and his face changed. Clemencyslipped out as soon as she could, saying that she was tired. ThenGordon turned abruptly upon James. "There is something between you two, Clemency and you, " he said in a brusque voice. James colored and hesitated. "Out with it, " said Gordon peremptorily. "Clemency wished--" began James. "Wished you to keep it secret, of course. Well, she told me herself, poor little soul, the moment she came into the room. " James sat still. He did not know what to do. Finally he said in astammering voice that he hoped there would be no objection. "No objection certainly on my part or Mrs. Ewing, if Clemency has takena fancy to you, " replied Doctor Gordon. "But--" he hesitated a moment. "It is only fair to tell you that you yourself may later on entertainsome very reasonable objection, " Gordon said grimly. "It is impossible, " James cried eagerly. "I have known her only a fewweeks, but I feel as if it were a lifetime. Nothing can change me. Andas for money, if you mean anything of that kind, I don't care if shehasn't a cent. I have my profession, and my father is well-to-do. Then, besides, I have a little that an aunt, my mother's sister, left me. Ican support Clemency. " "It is not that, " Gordon said. "Clemency has--at least I think I cansecure it to her--a little fortune of her own, and she will havesomething besides. I was not thinking of money at all. " "Then there can be nothing, " James said positively. His sense ofembarrassment had passed. He beamed at the older man. "There can be something else. There is something else, " Gordon saidgloomily. "I don't know but I ought to tell you, but, the truth is, youknow my theory with regard to secrecy. I don't doubt but you can holdyour tongue, yet the whole affair is so dangerous, that I dare not, Icannot, tell you yet. I can only say this, that there does exist someobstacle to your marriage with my niece, and your engagement must beregarded by myself in a tentative light. If the time ever comes when youknow all, and wish to withdraw, you can do so in my opinion with perfecthonor. In the meantime you had better say nothing to any one outside. You had better not even tell Mrs. Ewing. I hope Clemency herself willnot. Perhaps when she has had a few hours in which to collect herself, her face will not be quite so tell-tale. " "Nothing whatever can change me, " said James, with almost anger. Gordon shook his head. "I begin to think I may have done you a wronghaving you come here at all, " he said. "I suppose I ought to havethought of the possibility, but I have had so much on my mind. " "You have done me the greatest good I ever had done me in my wholelife, " James said fervently. Gordon rose and shook the young man's hand. "As far as Clemency and Iand Mrs. Ewing are concerned, " he said, "nothing could have been better. Well, we will hope for the best, my boy. " He clapped James on theshoulder and smiled, and James went to his room feeling dizzy withhappiness and mystery, and a trifle so with the doctor's punch. CHAPTER VII The next morning James was awakened by loud voices coming from thevicinity of the stable. He had not slept very well, and now at dawn feltdrowsy, but the voices would not let him sleep. He rose, dressed, andwent out in the stable-yard. There he found Doctor Gordon, Aaron, and astrange man, small, and red-haired, and thin-faced, with shifty eyes, holding by the bridle a fine black horse. "Don't want to buy a horse with a bridle on, " Doctor Gordon was sayingas James appeared. "Do you think I'm the man to bear insults?" inquired the littlered-haired man with fierceness. "Insult nothing. It is business, " said Gordon. "That's so, " Aaron said, chewing and eyeing the black horse and thered-haired man thoughtfully. "Well, " said the little red-haired man with an air at once of injuredinnocence and ferocity, "if you want to know why I object to sellingthis horse without a bridle, come here, and I'll show you. " Gordon andAaron and James approached. The red-haired man slipped the bridle, andunderneath it appeared a small sore. "There, that's the reason, and I'lltell you the truth, " said the man defiantly. "Here I am trying to sellthis darned critter; paid a cool hundred for him, and everybody saysjest as you do, won't buy him with the bridle on. Then I takes off thebridle, and they sees this little bile, and there's an end to it. Isuppose it's the same with you. Well, good day, gentlemen. You're losin'a darned good trade, but it ain't my fault. Here's an animal I paid acool hundred for, and I'm offering him for ninety. I'm ten dollars out, besides my time. " "Let me see that sore again, " said Gordon. He slipped the bridle andexamined the place carefully. Then he looked hard at the horse, whichstood with great docility, although he held his head proudly. He was afine beast, glossy black in color, and had a magnificent tail. "Make it eighty-five, " said Gordon. "Couldn't think of it. " "I don't know as I want the horse anyway, " said Gordon. "I'll call it eighty-seven and a half, " said the little red-haired man. Gordon stood still for a moment. Then he pulled out his wallet. "Eighty-six and call it square, " he said. "All right, " said the red-haired man. "It's a-givin' of him away, butI'm so darned tired of trampin' the country with him, that I'll call iteighty-six, and it's the biggest bargain you ever got in your life inthe way of horse flesh. I wouldn't let him go at that figure, but mywife's sick, and I want to get home. " The red-haired man carefully counted over the roll of bank-notes whichDoctor Gordon gave him, although it seemed to James that he used somehaste. He also thought that he was evidently anxious to be gone. Herefused Gordon's offer of breakfast, saying that he had already had someat the hotel. Then he was gone, walking with uncommon speed for such asmall man. Aaron, James, and Doctor Gordon stood contemplating the newpurchase. James patted him. "He looks like a fine animal, " he remarked. Aaron shifted his quid, and said with emphasis, "Want me to hitch up andbring that little red-haired cuss back?" "Why, what for?" asked Doctor Gordon. "I guess I have made a good trade, Aaron. " "You mark my words, there's somethin' out, " said Aaron dogmatically. "I guess you're wrong this time, " said Doctor Gordon, laughing. "Come, Elliot, it is time for breakfast, and we have to drive to Wardvilleafterward for that fever case. " James followed Gordon into the dining-room. Clemency said good morningalmost rudely, then she hid her face behind the coffee-urn. Gordonglanced at her and smiled tenderly, but the girl did not see it. Jamesnever looked her way at all. She turned the coffee with apparentconcentration. She did not dare look at either of the two men. She hadnever felt so disturbedly happy and so shy. She had not slept all night, she was so agitated with happiness, but this morning she showed notraces of sleeplessness. There was an unwonted color on her little fairface, and her blue eyes were like jewels under her drooping lids. They were nearly through breakfast when the door which led into thekitchen was abruptly thrown open, and Aaron stood there. In his hand heflourished dramatically a great streaming mass of black. "Told you so, "he observed with a certain triumph. The others stared at him. "What on earth is that?" asked Gordon. "That new horse's tail; it comes off, " replied Aaron with brevity. Thenhe chewed. "Comes off?" Aaron nodded, still chewing. Gordon rose from the table saying something under his breath. "That ain't all, " said Aaron, still with an air of sly triumph. "What else, for Heaven's sake?" cried Gordon. "Well, he cribs, " replied Aaron laconically. Then he chewed. "That was why he didn't want to take the bridle off?" Aaron nodded. Gordon stood staring for a second, then he burst into a peal oflaughter. "Bless me if I ever got so regularly done, " said he. "Say, Aaron, that was a smart chap. He has talent, he has. " "Aren't you going to try to find him?" asked James. "Well, we'll keep a lookout on the way to Wardville, " said Gordon; "and, Aaron, you may as well put the chestnut in the old buggy and driveStanbridge way, and see if you can get sight of him. " "He's had a half-hour's start, " said Aaron. "You might track a fox, butyou can't him. " "I guess you are about right, " said Gordon, "but we'll do all we can. However, I think I'll try to get even with Sam Tucker. It's a goodchance. I'll drive the new horse to Wardville. Aaron, you just tie thattail on again, and fasten it up so as to keep it out of the mud. " Aaron grinned. "Goin' to get even for that white horse?" "I'm going to try it. " Gordon was all interest. James regarded him as he had done so many timesbefore with wonder. That such a man should have such powers ofassimilation astounded him. He was actually as amused and interested inbeing done, as he called it, and in trying in his turn to wipe off someold score, as any countryman. He seemed, to the young man, to havelittle burrows like some desperate animal, into which he could dive, andbe completely away from his enemies, and even from himself, when hechose. He hurriedly drank the remainder of his coffee, and was in his officegetting his medicine-case ready. James lingered, in the hopes ofgetting a word and a kiss from Clemency. But the child, the moment heruncle went out, fled. It was odd. She wanted to stay and have a minutewith James alone more than she had ever wanted anything, but it was forjust that very reason that she ran away. James felt hurt. At that time, the mind of a girl, and its shy workings, were entirely beyond his comprehension. He saw no earthly reason whyClemency should have avoided him. He followed Gordon with rather adowncast face into the office, and begun assisting him with hismedicines. Gordon himself was too full of interest in the horse trade toremark anything. At times he chuckled to himself. Now and then he wouldburst out anew in a great peal of laughter. "Hang it all! I don't liketo be done any better than any other man, but that little red-hairedscamp was clever and no mistake, " he said, "showing me that little sore. I believe he had sandpapered the poor beast on purpose. He took me in asneatly as I ever saw anything done in my life. Well, Elliot, you waitand see me get even with Sam Tucker. I have been waiting my chance. About two years ago he worked me, and not half as cleverly as thiseither. He made me feel that I was a fool. The red-haired one needed thedevil himself to get round him, and see through his little game. SamTucker sold me, or rather traded with me a veritable fiend of a horsefor an old mare. The mare was old, but she had a lot of go in her, andwas sound, and the other, well, Sam had bought him for a song, becausenobody would drive him, and he had killed two men. He was a white horsewith as wicked an eye as you ever saw, and ears always cocked formischief, like the arch fiend's horns. Well, Sam, he made some kind of adye, and he actually dyed that animal a beautiful chestnut, and tradedhim for my old mare. I even paid a little to boot. Well, next morning Isent Aaron down to the store in a soaking rain, and the horse bolted ata white rock beside the road, and the buggy was knocked into kindlingwood. Aaron wasn't hurt. He always comes out right side up. But when hecame leading that snorting, dancing beast home, the chestnut dye waspretty well off, and I knew him in a minute. Well, he was shot, and Iwas my old mare and some money out. I wasn't going to have men's liveson my conscience. But this is another matter. Now I've got my chance toget even, and I'm going to get my old mare back. " Presently the two men were out on the road driving the black horse. Hewent well enough, and seemed afraid of nothing. "There's not much thematter with this animal except the tail and the cribbing, I guess, " saidthe doctor. "As for the tail, that is simply a question of ornament andtaste. The cribbing is more serious, of course, but I guess Sam Tuckerwon't be in any danger of his life. " They had not gone far before thedoctor drew up before a farmhouse on the left. A man with a seriousface, thin and wiry, was coming around the house with a wheelbarrowfulof potatoes. "Hullo, Sam!" called Doctor Gordon. The man left his barrowand came alongside. James could see that he had a keen eye upon thehorse. "Fine morning, " said the doctor. Sam Tucker gave a grunt by way of assent. He was niggardly with speech. "Have you got any more of those Baldwin apples to sell?" asked DoctorGordon, to James's intense surprise. Sam Tucker looked reflectively at the doctor for a full minute, thengave utterance to a monosyllable. "Bar'l. " "So you've got a barrel to sell, " said Gordon. Sam nodded. "Well, I'll send my man over for them. They are mighty fine apples, andEmma said yesterday that we were about out. I suppose they are the sameprice. " Sam nodded. "Seems as if you might take off a little, it is so late, and you mighthave them spoiling on your hands, " said Gordon, and James began towonder if they had come to drive a sharp bargain on apples instead ofhorses. Sam shook his head emphatically. "Same, " he said. "Well, I suppose I've got to pay it if you ask it, " said Gordon. "Ican't buy any such apples elsewhere. You've got it your way. I'll sendthe money over by Aaron. " Doctor Gordon gathered up the reins, but SamTucker seemed to experience a sudden convulsion all over his lank body. "Horse, " he said. Doctor Gordon drove on a yard, but Sam, running alongside, he stopped. "Yes, " he said placidly, "horse. What do you think of him?" Sam said nothing. He looked at the horse. "He's the biggest bargain I ever got, " said Gordon. "I am going to hangon to him. Once in a while there is an honest deal in horses. I am notbringing up anything, Sam. I believe in letting bygones be bygones, although you did risk my life and my man's. But this time I am allright. " Gordon gathered up the reins again, and again Sam Tucker stoppedhim. James barely saw the man's mouth move. He could not hear that hesaid anything, but a peculiar glow of eager greed lit up his long face, and Gordon seemed to understand him perfectly. "You can take your oathnot, " he said brusquely. "What do you take me for? You have stuck meonce, and now you think you are going to do it again. You can bet yourlife you are not. " Again he gathered up the reins. Sam Tucker's facegleamed like a coal. James saw for the first time in its entirety thetrading instinct rampant. Again Gordon seemed to understand what hadapparently not been spoken. "No, Sam Tucker, " he declared almostbrutally, "I will not trade back for that old mare you cheated me outof, not if you were to give me your whole farm to boot. I know that oldmare. I wasn't the only one that got stuck. She's got the heaves. I knowher. No, sir, you don't do me again. I've got a good horse this time, and I mean to hang on to him. " Again Gordon attempted to drive on, and once more Sam stopped him. Jamesfelt at last fairly dizzy, when he heard the farmer almost beg Gordon totrade horses, offer him twenty-five dollars to boot, and the apples. Hesat in the buggy watching while the mare was led out of the stable, theblack horse was taken out of the traces, and the bridle was left onwithout a remonstrance on Sam's part, and exchanged for a much newerone, while twenty-five dollars in dirty bank-notes were carefullycounted out by Sam, and then Gordon jumped into the buggy and drove off. He was quivering with suppressed mirth. "The biter is bitten this time, "he said as soon as he was out of hearing of Sam Tucker. Then he made anexclamation of dismay. "What's the matter?" asked James. "Well, I have left my whip. I must risk it and go back. I paid a lot forthat whip. " Gordon turned and drove back at a sharp trot. When they came alongsidethe farm fence James saw the whip lying on the ground, and jumped out toget it. He was back in the buggy, and they were just proceeding ontheir way, when there was a shout, and Sam Tucker came rushing aroundthe house, and held the horse's tail as Aaron had done in the morning. "Comes off, " he gasped. "Of course, " said the doctor coolly. "I didn't say it didn't. It's forconvenience in muddy weather. " "Cribs, " gasped Sam Tucker. "Yes, a little, " said Gordon. "Keep him away from hitching-posts. Youdidn't say you wanted a horse to hitch. He never cribs when he's driven. Good-day, Sam. " Gordon and James were off again. Gordon was doubled up with merriment, in which James joined. "I'm glad to get behind old Fanny once more, "said Gordon. "She's worth two of that other animal! Clemency will beglad to see her again. She felt badly when I traded her. In fact, Iwouldn't have done it if I had known how much the child cared for themare. She used to drive her a lot and pet her. I think it will beperfectly safe for you to take Clemency out driving when there isn't amoon. Fanny is pretty fast when she is touched with the whip, and, though she's gentle, she hasn't much use for strangers. I don't thinkshe would stand a stranger at her head. I think you may go out to-night, if you like. Poor Clemency needs the air. We'll use the team thisafternoon, and Fanny will be fresh by evening. " James colored. He remembered how Clemency had avoided him that morning. "Perchance she won't care to go, " he said. "Of course, she will, " said Gordon. "She will go, and I want her to, butyou must always bear in mind what I told you last night, and--" hehesitated. "Don't do your utmost to make the poor little thing think youare the moon and sun and stars in case you should change your mind, " hefinished. "I shall never change my mind, " James said hotly. "You will be justified if you do, " Gordon said gravely. "Perhaps youwill not. But you are old enough, and ought to have self-command enoughto keep your head, and shield the poor child against possiblecontingencies. You have not known each other very long. It is notpossible that she would die of it now, nor you. If you can only keepyour head, and meander along the path of love instead of plunging intobottomless depths, it will be better for both of you. I know what I amtalking about. I am old enough to be your father. Go slow, for God'ssake, if you care about the girl. " "She is the whole world to me, " said James. "Then, go slow! It will be better for her if you are not the whole worldto her, until you know what a day may bring forth. " "I don't care what a day brings forth. " "You are tempting the gods?" said Gordon. "Elliot, you don't know whatyou are talking about. I am not treating you fairly not to tell you thewhole story, but I don't see my way clear. You must bear in mind what Isay. I did not think of any such complication when you came here. I wasa fool not to. I know what young people are, and Clemency is a darling, and you have your good points. The amount of it is, if I don't get stuckby Sam Tucker in a horse trade, Fate sticks me in something bigger. Idon't see the inevitable, I suppose, because I am so close to it that itis like facing the wall of a precipice all the time. We have to stophere. The woman's daughter is coming down with a fever, which will notkill her, and she will have it to brag of all her life. She will dateall earthly events from this fever. Whoa, Fanny!" That evening James and Clemency went for a drive. It was a clear night, but dark, save for the stars. Clemency had a thick veil over her face, which seemed entirely unnecessary. Directly as they started, she made alittle involuntary nestling motion toward the young man at her side. Itwas as innocent as the nestling of a baby. James put his arm around her. He thought with indignation of Doctor Gordon's warning, as if anythingin the world could cause him to change his mind about this dear childwho loved him. "You darling!" he whispered. "So you have not thoughtbetter of it. " "What do you mean?" Clemency whispered back. "Why, dear, you have fairly run away from me all day long. " "I was afraid, " Clemency whispered, then she put her head against hisshoulder, and laughed a delicious little laugh. "I never was in lovebefore, and I don't know how to act, " said she. "Put up your veil, " said James. "Why?" "I want a kiss. " Clemency put up her veil obediently and kissed him like a child. Thenthere was a sudden flash of light from a lantern, and a dark form wasat the mare's head. But she was true to her master's opinion of her. Shegave a savage duck at the man and started violently, so that James wasforced to release Clemency and devote his entire attention to driving. Clemency shrank close to him, shivering like one in a chill. "He sawme, " she gasped. "It was that same man, and this time he saw me. " CHAPTER VIII James and Clemency had hardly started upon their drive before there wasa ring at the office door, and Doctor Gordon, who was alone there, answered it. He was confronted by a man who lived half-way between Altonand the next village on the north. He had walked some three miles to getsome medicine for his wife, who was suffering from rheumatism. He waspathetically insistent upon the fact that his wife did not require acall from the doctor, only some medicine. "Now, see here, Joe, " saidGordon, "if I really thought your wife needed a call, I would go, and itshould not cost you a cent more than the medicine, but I am dog tired, and not feeling any too well myself, and if her symptoms are just as yousay, I think I can send her something which will fix her up all right. " "She is just the way she was last year, " said the man. He did not lookunlike Gordon, although he was poorly clad, and was a genuine son of theNew Jersey soil. His poor clothes, even his skin, had a clayey hue, asif he had been really cast from the mother earth. It was frozen outside, but a reddish crust from the last thaw was on his hulking boots. Hespoke with a drawl, which was nasal, and yet had something sweet in it. "I would have came this afternoon, but I was afraid you might have wentout, " he remarked. "Yes, I was out, " replied Gordon, who was filling out a prescription. The man stooped and patted the bull terrier, which had not evinced theslightest emotion at his entrance. "Mighty fine dog, " said the man. "Yes, he is a pretty good sort, " replied Gordon. "Shouldn't like to meet him if I had came up to your house an' no oneround, and he had took a dislike to me. " "I should not myself, " said Gordon. "But he does not dislike you. " "Dogs know me pooty well, " said the man. "They ain't no particler likin'for me. Don't want to run and jump an' wag, but they know I mean well, and they mostly let me alone. " "Yes, I guess that's so, " said Gordon. "Jack would have barked if he hadnot known you were all right, Joe. " "Queer how much they know, " said the man reflectively, and a dazed lookoverspread his dingy face with its cloud of beard. If once he becamelaunched upon a current of reflection, he lost his mental bearingsinstantly and drifted. "Well, they do know, " said Gordon. "Now listen, Joe! You see thisbottle. You give your wife a spoonful of the medicine in a glass ofwater every three hours. Mind, you make it a whole tumbler full ofwater. " "Yes, sir, " replied the man. "Of course, you need not wake her up if she gets to sleep, " said thedoctor, "but every three hours when she is awake. " "Yes, sir. " The man began fumbling in his pocket, but Gordon stoppedhim. "No, " he said, "put up your pocketbook, Joe. I don't want anymoney. I get this medicine at wholesale, and it don't cost much. " "I come prepared to pay, " said the man. He straightened his shouldersand flushed. "Oh, well, " said Doctor Gordon, "wait. If you need more medicine, or itseems necessary that I should drive over to see your wife, you can do alittle work on my garden in the spring, or you can let me have a bushelof your new potatoes when they are grown next summer, or some apples, and we'll call it square. Wait; I don't want any money for that bottleof medicine to-night anyhow. Did you walk over, Joe?" Joe said that he had walked over. "Aaron might just as well drive youhome as not, " said Gordon. "The sooner your wife has that medicine thebetter. How is the baby getting along?" "First-rate. I'd just as soon walk, doctor. " For answer Gordon opened the door and called Aaron, and told him tohitch up and take the man home. "Doctor Elliot has gone with the bay, " said Aaron. "The teams are aboutplayed out, and there's nothin' except the gray. " "Take her then. " "She looked when I fed her jest now as if she was half a mind to balk attakin' her feed, " Aaron remarked doubtfully. "Nonsense! Give her a loose rein, and she'll be all right. " Aaron went out grumbling. Gordon offered the man a cigar, which he accepted as if it had been adiamond. "I'll save it up for next Sunday, when I've got a little timeto sense it, " he said. "I know what your cigars be. " Gordon forced another upon him, and the man looked as pleased as achild. Presently a shout was heard, and Gordon opened the office door. "Here's Aaron with the buggy, " he said. He stood in the doorway watching, but the gray, instead of balking, wentout of the yard with an angry plunge. Gordon shook his head. "Confound him, he's pulling too hard on the lines, " he muttered. Then heclosed and locked the office door, and went into the living-room to findit deserted. Gordon called up the stairs. "Have you gone to bed, Clara?"His voice was at once tenderly solicitous and angry. Mrs. Ewing answered him from above, and in her tone was somethingpropitiating. "Yes, Tom, dear, " she called. Gordon hesitated a moment. His face took on its expression of utmostmisery. "Is--the pain very bad?" he called then, and called as if hewere in actual fear. "No, dear, " the woman's patient, beseeching voice answered, "not verybad. " "Not very?" "No, only I felt a little twinge, and thought I had better go to bed. Iam quite comfortable now. I think I shall go to sleep. I am sorry toleave you alone all the evening, Tom. " "That's right, " called Gordon. His voice rang harsh, in spite of hiseffort to control it. He threw his arm over his eyes, and fairly gropedhis way back to his office, stifling his sobs. When he was in his officehe flung himself into a chair, and bent his head over his hands on thetable, and his whole frame shook. "Oh, my God!" he muttered. "Oh, myGod!" He did not weep, but he gasped like a child whom his mother hascommanded not to weep. Terrible emotion fairly convulsed him. Hestruggled with it as with a visible foe. At last he sat up and filledhis pipe. The dog had crept close to him, and was nestling against himand whimpering. Gordon patted his head. The dog licked his hand. The simple, ignorant sympathy of this poor speechless thing nearlyunnerved the man again, but he continued to smoke. He looked at the dog, whose honest brown eyes were fixed upon him with an almost uncannyunderstanding, and reflected how the woman upstairs, who was passing outof his life, had become in a few days so associated with the animal, that after she was gone he could never see him without a pang. Helooked about the office, with whose belongings she was less associatedthan with anything in the house, and it seemed to him that everythingeven there would have for him, after she had passed, a terrible sting ofreminiscence. It seemed to him, as he looked about, as if she werealready gone. He was, in fact, suffering as keenly in anticipation as hewould in reality. The horror, the worst horror of life, of being leftalive with the dead and the associations of the dead was already uponhim. Some people are comforted by such associations, others they rend. Gordon was one whom they would rend, whom they did rend. He made up hismind, as he sat there, that he would have to go away from Alton, andenter new scenes for the healing of his spirit, and yet he knew that heshould not go: that at the last his courage would assert itself. He sat smoking, the dog's head on his knee. There was not a sound to beheard in the house. Emma, the maid, had gone away to visit a sicksister. She might not be back that night. So there was absolute silence, even in the kitchen. Suddenly the dog lifted his head and listened tosomething which Gordon could not himself hear. He watched the dogcuriously. The dog gave a low growl of fear and rage, and made for theoffice door. He began scratching at the threshold, and emitted a perfectvolley of barks. It did not sound like one dog, but a whole pack. Gordon, with an impulse which he could not understand, quickly put outthe prism-fringed lamp which hung over his table. Then he sprang to thedog, and had the dog by the collar. "Be still, Jack, " he said in a lowvoice, and the dog obeyed instantly, although he was quivering under hishand. Gordon could feel the muscles run like angry serpents under thesmooth white hair, he felt the crest of rage along his back. But theanimal was so well trained that he barked no more. He only growled verysoftly, as if to himself, and quivered. Gordon ordered him to charge in a whisper, and the dog stretched himselfat his feet, although it was like the crouch of a live wire. Then Gordonrose and went softly to a window beside the door. The office had veryheavy red curtains. It was impossible, since they were closely drawn, that a ray of light from within should have been visible outside. Gordonhad reasoned it out quickly when he extinguished the lamp. Whoever waswithout would have had no possible means of knowing that anything exceptthe dog was in the office, but the light once out, Gordon could peeparound the curtain and ascertain, without being himself seen, what orwho was about. He had a premonition of what he should see, and he sawit. The stable door was almost directly opposite that of the office. Between the two doors there was a driveway. On this driveway the onlypale thing to be seen in the darkness was the tall, black figure of aman standing perfectly still, as if watching. His attitude wasunmistakable. The long lines of him, upreared from the pale streak ofthe driveway, were as plainly to be read as a sign-post. They signifiedwatchfulness. His back was toward the office. He stood face toward thecurve of the drive toward the road, where any one entering would firstbe seen. Gordon, peeping around his curtain, knew the dark figure as hewould have known his own shadow. In one sense it had been for years hisshadow, and that added to the horror of it. The man behind the curtainwatched, the man in the drive watched; and the dog, crouched at thethreshold of the door, watched with what sublimated sense God aloneknew, which enabled him to know as much as his master, and now and thencame the low growl. Gordon began to formulate a theory in his mind. Heremembered suddenly the man whom Aaron had driven home. He realized thatthe watching man might easily have mistaken him for Gordon himself, going away with his man to make a call upon some patient. He suspected, with an intensity which became a certainty, that the man knew thatClemency and Elliot were out and would presently return, and that it wasfor them he was watching. All the time he thought of the sick womanupstairs, and was glad that her room faced on the other side of thehouse. He was in agony lest she should be disturbed. Doctor Gordon was usually a man of resources, but now he did not knowwhat to do. The dark figure on the park-drive made now and then aprecautionary motion of his right arm as he watched, which wassignificant. Gordon knew that he was holding a revolver in readiness. Inthe event of Aaron returning alone he would probably be puzzled, andGordon thought that he might slip away. In the event of James andClemency returning first, Gordon thought that he knew conclusively whathe purposed--a bullet for James, and then away with the girl, unless hewas hindered. Gordon let the curtain slip back into place, and with a warning gestureto the dog, who was ready for action, he tiptoed across the room to thetable, in a drawer of which he kept his own revolver. He opened thedrawer softly, and rummaged with careful hands. No revolver was there. He made sure. He even opened other drawers and rummaged, but the weaponwas certainly missing. He stood undecided for a moment. Then he wentsoftly out of the room, bidding in a whisper the dog to follow. He creptupstairs and paused at a closed chamber door. Then he opened it verycarefully. Mrs. Ewing at once spoke. "Is that you, dear?" she said. "Yes, I wanted to tell you not to be frightened, dear, if you shouldhear a shot or the dog bark. " There was a rustling in the dark room. Mrs. Ewing was evidently sittingup in bed. "Oh, Tom, what is it?" she whispered. Gordon forced a laugh. "Nothing at all, " he replied, "except there's afox or something out in the yard, and Jack is wild. I may get a shot athim. Do you know where my revolver is?" "Why, where you always keep it, dear, in the table drawer in theoffice. " "I don't seem to see it. I guess I will take your little pistol. " "Oh, Tom, I am sorry, but I know that won't go off. Clemency tried itthe other day. You remember that time Emma dropped it. I think somethingor other got bent. You know it was a delicate little thing. " "Oh, well, " said Gordon carelessly, "I dare say I can find my revolver. " "I don't see who could have taken it away. " said Mrs. Ewing. "I am sorryabout my pistol, because you gave it to me too, dear. " "I'll get another for you, " said Gordon, "Those little dainty, lady-like, pearl-mounted weapons don't stand much. " "I am feeling very comfortable, dear, " Mrs. Ewing said in her anxious, sweet voice. "You will be careful, won't you, with your revolver, withthat dog jumping about?" "Yes, dear. I dare say I shall not use the revolver anyway, but don't befrightened if you should hear a little commotion. " "No, Tom. " "Go to sleep. " "Yes, I think I can. I do feel rather sleepy. " Gordon closed the door carefully and retraced his steps to the office, the dog at his heels. He slipped the curtain again and looked out. Theman still stood watching in the driveway. Gordon had never been at sucha loss as to his best course of action. He was absolutely courageous, but here he was unarmed, and he could have no reasonable doubt that ifhe should go out, he would be immediately shot. In such a case, what ofthe woman upstairs? And, moreover, what of James and Clemency? Hethought of any available weapon, but there was nothing except his ownstick. That was stout, it was true, but could he be quick enough withit? His mad impulse to rush out unarmed except with that paltry thingcould hardly be restrained, but he had to think of other lives besidehis own. He began to think that the only solution of the matter was the return ofAaron alone. The watching man would immediately realize that he had madesome mistake, that he, Gordon, was in the house, or had been left at thehome of a patient. He could have no possible reason for molesting theman. He would probably slip aside into a shadow, then make his way backto the road. In such a case Gordon determined that he and Aaron wouldfollow him to make sure that no harm came to James and Clemency. SoGordon stood motionless waiting, in absolute silence, except for thefrequently recurring mutter of fear and rage of the dog. As time went onhe became more and more uneasy. It seemed to him finally that Aaronshould have been back long before. He moved stealthily across the room, and consulted his watch by the low light of the hearth fire. Aaron hadbeen gone an hour. He should have returned, for the mare was a goodroadster when she did not balk. Gordon shook his head. He began to bealmost sure that the mare had balked. He returned to the window. Hisevery nerve was on the alert. The moment that James and Clemency shoulddrive into the yard, he made ready to spring, but the horrible fear lestit should be entirely unavailing haunted him. If only Aaron would come. Then the man would slip into cover of the shadows, and steal out intothe road, and Gordon would jump into the buggy, and he and Aaron wouldfollow him. He knew the man well enough to be sure that he would neverventure an attack upon James and Clemency with witnesses. If only Aaronwould come! Gordon became surer that the mare had balked. He vowedwithin himself that she should be shot the next day if she had. Everymoment he thought he heard the sound of wheels and horse's hoofs. Hisnervous tension became something terrible. Once he thought of stealingthrough the house, and out by the front door, and walking to meet Jamesand Clemency so as to warn them. But that would leave the helpless womanupstairs alone. He dared not do that. He thought then of going to the front of the house, and watching there, and endeavoring to intercept James and Clemency before they turned intothe driveway. But he felt that he could not for one second relax hiswatch upon the watching man, and he had no guarantee whatever that, atthe first sound of wheels, the man himself would not make for the frontof the house. Then he thought, as always, of not disturbing the sickwoman whose room faced the road. It seemed to him that his only coursewas to remain where he was and wait for the return of Aaron before Jamesand Clemency. He knew now that the horse must have balked. His only hopewas that James and Clemency, since it was such a fine night, and timeis so short for lovers, might take such a long drive that even the balkymare might relent. Always he heard at intervals the trot of a horse, which only existed in his imagination. He began to wonder if he shouldknow when Aaron, or Clemency and James, actually did drive into theyard, if he should be quick enough. Suddenly he thought of the dog: thathe would follow him, and of what might happen. The dog's chain-leash wason the table. He stole across, got it, fastened it to the animal'scollar, and made the end secure to a staple which he had had fixed inthe wall for that purpose. As yet no intention of injury to the manexcept in self-defense was in his mind. If actually attacked, he mustdefend himself, of course, but he wished more than anything to drive theintruder away with no collision. That was what he hoped for. The timewent on, and the strain upon the doctor's nerves was nearly driving himmad. Sometimes the mare balked for hours. He began to hope that Aaronwould leave her, and return home on foot. That would settle the matter. But he remembered a strange trait of obstinacy in Aaron. He rememberedhow he had once actually sat all night in the buggy while the marebalked. The man balked as well as the horse. "The damned fool, " hemuttered to himself in an agony. The dog growled in response. Then itwas that first the thought came to Gordon of what might be done to savethem all. He stood aghast with the horror of it. He was essentially aman of peace himself, unless driven to the wall. He was a good fighterat bay, but there was in his heart, along with strength, utter good-willand gentleness toward all his kind. He only wished to go his way inpeace, and for those whom he loved to go in peace, but that had beendenied him. He began considering the nature of the man whose dark figureremained motionless on the driveway. He knew him from the first. Itsounded sensational, his recapitulation of his knowledge, but it wasentirely true. It was that awful truth, which is past human belief, which no man dares put into fiction. That man out there had been fromhis birth a distinct power for evil upon the face of the earth. He hadmenaced all creation, so far as one personality may menace it. He was aforce of ill, a moral and spiritual monster, and the more dangerous, because of a subtlety and resource which had kept him immune from thelaw. He outstripped the law, whose blood-hounds had no scent keen enoughfor him. He had broken the law, but always in such a way that there wasnot, and never could be, any proof. There had not been even suspicion. There had been knowledge on Gordon's part, and Mrs. Swing's, butknowledge without proof is more helpless than suspicion with it. The manwas unassailable, free to go his way, working evil. Again Gordon thought he heard the nearing trot of a horse, and again thedog growled. Gordon was not quite sure that time that a horse had notpassed the house. He told himself in despair that he could not be sureof knowing when James and Clemency came, and again the awful thoughtseized him, and again he reflected upon the man outside. Suppose, instead of wearing the semblance of humanity, he had worn the semblanceof a beast, then his course would have been clear enough. Suppose itwere a hungry wolf watching out there, instead of a man, and this manwas worse than any wolf. He was like the weir-wolf of the oldScandinavian legend. He had all the cowardly cruelty of a wolf, he was ameans of evil, but he had the trained brain of a man. Gordon thought he heard footsteps, and the man made a very slightmotion. Gordon thought joyfully that Aaron had left the balky mare, andhad returned, but it was not so. He had heard nothing except thepulsations of the blood in his own overwrought brain. He wondered if he were really going mad, although all the time his mindwas steadily at work upon the awful problem which had been forced uponit. Should any power for evil be allowed to exist upon the earth ifmortal man had strength to stamp it out? Suppose that was a poisonoussnake out there, and not a man. What was out there was worse than anysnake. Gordon reasoned as the first man in Eden may have reasoned; andhe did not know whether his reasoning were right or wrong. Meantime, thedanger increased every moment. Of one thing he was perfectly sure: hehad no personal motive for what he might or might not do. He had reachedthat pass when he was himself, as far as he himself was concerned, beyond hate of that man outside. It was a principle for which he argued. Should a monster, something abnormal in strength and subtlety andwickedness, something which menaced all the good in the world, beallowed to exist? Gordon argued that it should not. He was driven to itby years of fruitless struggling against this monstrous creation in theshape of man. He had seen such suffering because of him; his whole lifehad been so turned and twisted this way and that way because of him, that he himself had in the end become abnormal, and mentally askew, withthe system of things. He was conscious of it himself. He had beennaturally a good, simple, broad-visioned man, full of charity, withalmost no subtlety. He had been forced to lead a life which strained anddiverted all these good traits. Where he would have been open, he hadbeen secret. Where he would have had no suspicion of any one, his firstsight now seemed to be for ulterior motives. He weighed and measuredwhere he naturally would have scattered broadcast. He had been obligedto compress his broad vision into a narrow window of detection. He wasnot the man he had been. Where he had gazed out of wide doors andwindows at life, he now gazed through keyholes, and despised himself forso doing. In order to evade the trouble which had fallen to his lot, hetook refuge in another personality. Thomas Gordon was a man whom ahappy and untroubled life would have kept from all worldly blemish. Nowthe gold was tarnished, and he himself always saw the tarnish, as onesees a blur before the eye. Twenty years before, if any one had told himthat he would at any period of his life become capable of standing andarguing with himself as to the right or wrong of what was now in hismind, he would have been incredulous. He had in reality become anotherman. Circumstances had evolved him, during the course of twenty years, into something different, as persistent winds evolve a pliant tree intoanother than its typical shape. Gordon had lost his type. As he stood at the window the room grew cold. The hearth fire had dieddown. He knew that the furnace needed attention, but he dared not quithis post and his argument. He became sure that the maid would not returnthat night. He knew that Aaron was sitting with his human obstinacybehind the obstinate brute, somewhere on the road. He knew that Jamesand Clemency might at any moment drive in, and he might rush out toolate to prevent murder and the kidnapping of the girl. He knew what theman was there for. And he knew the one way to thwart him, but it was sohorrible a way that it needed all this argument, all this delay andnearing of danger, before he adopted it. The increasing cold of the room seemed to act as a sort of physical goadtoward action. "By God, it _is_ right!" he muttered. Then he looked atthe dog crouching still with that wiry intentness before the door. Thedog came of a good breed of fighters. He was in himself both weapon andwielder of weapon. He was a concentrated force. His white body wasknotted with nerves and muscles. The chances were good if--Gordonpictured it to himself--and again the horror and doubt were over him. Hehimself had acquired a certain stiffness and lassitude from years, andlong drives in one position. He would stand no chance unarmed against abullet. But the dog--that was another matter. The dog would make aspring like the spring of death itself, and that white leap of attackmight easily cause the aim to go wrong. It would be like aiming atlightning. He knew how the dog would gather himself together, all readyfor that terrible leap, the second he opened the door. He knew that hemight be able to open the door for the leap without attracting theman's attention, faced as he was the other way, if he could keep the dogquiet. He knew how it would be. He could see that tall dark figurerolled on the drive, struggling as one struggles with death, for breath, under the vise-like grip on his throat. Gordon knew that the dog'sunerring spring would be for the throat; that was the instinct of hisrace, a noble race in its way, to seize vice and danger by the throat, and attack the very threshold of life. Gordon returned to the window. It seemed to him again that he heard ahorse's trot. He felt sure that it was not the trot of the gray, who hada slight lameness. He knew the trot of the gray. He became sure thatJames and Clemency would the next moment enter the drive. He set hismouth hard, crept toward the dog, and patted him. As he patted him hefelt the rage-crest rise higher on his back. Gordon bade him be quiet, and slipped his leash from the staple. Then he took it from the collar. He listened again. It seemed to him that his ears could not deceive him. It seemed to him that James and Clemency were coming. He was almostdelirious. He fancied he heard their voices and the girl's laugh ringout. Holding the dog firmly by the collar, he rose and very carefullyand noiselessly slipped the bolt of the door back. Then he waited asecond. Then as slowly and carefully, still holding the dog by thecollar, and whispering commands to hush his growls, he turned the doorknob. [Illustration: "There was a white flash of avenging brute force upon theman. " Page 177. ] Then the thing was done. He flung the door open. He saw the man in thedrive, standing with his face toward the road. He had heard nothing. Then he loosened his grasp of the straining dog's collar, and there wasa white flash of avenging brute force upon the man. Gordon saw only oneleap of the dog before the man was down. A futile pistol shot rang out. Then came the snarl and growl of a fighting dog fastened upon his prey. CHAPTER IX When Clemency and James returned from their drive, they saw a glimmer oflight between the house and stable. "Aaron is out there with a lantern, "whispered Clemency. She sat up straight, leaned into her corner of thebuggy, and adjusted her hat and straightened her hair with the prettyyoung girl motions of secrecy and modesty. James peered ahead into the darkness through which the lantern movedlike a will-o'-the-wisp. "Your uncle is here, too, " he said. Then hedrew rein with a sudden, "Halloo, what is wrong?" Aaron came forward, leaving the lantern on the ground. It lit weirdly Dr. Gordon, who waskneeling on the ground beside a dark mass, which looked horriblysuggestive. Then James saw another dark mass to the right, the balkymare and a buggy. "Doctor Gordon says you had better hitch to this post here, " said Aaronin a sort of hoarse whisper, "and then come to him. He says he needshelp, and Miss Clemency, he says, must go around the house and in thefront door, and be careful not to let the dog out, but go upstairs, andif her mother is awake, tell her it ain't anything for her to fretabout, and Doctor Gordon will be in very soon. " "Oh, Aaron, what is the matter?" said Clemency, in a frightened whisper, as James sprang out of the buggy. "It ain't nothin', " replied Aaron doggedly. "Jest a man fell coming tothe office. Reckon he had a jag on. Doctor says he may have broke a rib. He's doctorin' him. You jest run round the house, and in the front door, Miss Clemency, and don't let out the dog, an' see to your ma. " James assisted Clemency out, and she fled, with a wild glance over hershoulder at the lantern-lit group in front of the office door. WhileAaron tied the horse to the post James ran to Doctor Gordon. When hedrew nearer the sight became sanguinary in its details, and he couldhear from the office the raging growls and howls of the dog. He alsoheard him leap against the door, as if he would break it down. Gordonhad a pail of water and a basin beside him, and he was applying watervigorously to the throat of the prostrate figure. The water in thebasin gleamed, in the lantern light, blood red. "Just empty this basinand fill it up from the pail, " ordered Gordon in a husky voice, andagain he squeezed the reddened cloth over the throat, which James nowdiscerned was badly torn. The man lay doubled up upon himself as limp asa rag. "No, I don't think so, " replied Gordon, as if in answer to an unspokenquestion, as James, having complied with his request, drew near with thebasin of fresh water. "Was it the dog?" asked James in a low voice. "Yes, the fool came round to the office door, and--" Gordon stopped witha miserable sigh which was almost a groan, and dipped the cloth in thebasin. "How did you get him off?" asked James. "I had the whip, and Aaron came in just then with that damned mare. Shehad balked. I don't think it is the jugular. It can't be. Damn it, howhe bleeds! Run into the office, Elliot, and get the absorbent cotton andthe brandy. I've got to stop this somehow. Oh, my God!" James suddenly recognized the man on the ground, and gave an exclamationwhich Gordon did not seem to notice. "For God's sake, don't let thatdog out!" he cried. "Don't risk the office door. Go around the house, the front way! Be quick!" James obeyed. He rushed around the house, and opened the front door. Immediately Clemency was clinging to him in the dim vestibule. "Motheris asleep. I think Uncle Tom must have given her some medicine to makeher sleep. Oh, what is the matter? Who is that man out there, and whatails him, and what ails the dog? I started to go in the office, but heleapt against the door, so I didn't. I was afraid he might get out andrun upstairs and wake mother. Oh, what is it all about?" "Nothing for you to worry about, dear, " replied James. "Now you must bea good little girl, and let me go. Your uncle is in a hurry for somethings in the office. " He put away her clinging arms gently, and hurriedon toward the office, but the girl followed him. "If I don't stand readyto shut the door behind you, that dog will be out, " she said. All atonce a conviction as to something seized her, and she cried out interror and horror, "Oh, I know it is that man out there, and Jack wantsto get at him. I know. " "It is nothing for you to worry about, dear. " "I know. Is he going to die? Is he hurt much?" "No, your uncle doesn't think so. Don't hinder me, dear. " "No, I won't. I will stand ready and bang the door together after youbefore Jack can get out. Oh, it is that man!" Clemency washalf-hysterical, but she stood her ground. When James opened the officedoor cautiously and slipped through the opening, she pushed it togetherwith surprising strength. "Don't get bitten yourself, " she called outanxiously. For a moment James thought that he might be bitten, for the dog was sofrenzied that he was almost past the point of recognizing his friends. He made a powerful leap upon James, the crest upon his back as rigid assteel, but James snatched at his collar, threw him, and spoke, and thewell-trained animal succumbed before his voice. "Charge!" thundered theyoung man, and the dog obeyed, although still bristling and growling. James hurriedly caught up his leash and fastened him to the staple, thenhe opened the inner office door, and spoke quickly and reassuringly toClemency, who was huddled behind it shaking with fear. "He is allright. I have fastened him, " he said. "Don't worry. Now I must go andhelp your uncle. " "He didn't bite you?" "Oh, no, he knew me the minute I spoke. Sit down here by the fire anddon't be frightened; that's a good little girl. " With that James was out by the other door and in the drive besideGordon, who was still assiduously applying water to the red throat ofthe prostrate man. "It is beginning to slack up a little, " he saidhoarsely. "Here, give me the cotton, and see if you can't get a drop ofbrandy between his teeth. They are clinched, but just now he moved alittle. He may be able to swallow. Aaron, put the team into the wagon, and get a mattress and some blankets from the storeroom. Hurry, he maycome to himself any minute, and he must not stay here any longer thannecessary. " Gordon was working fiercely as he spoke, and James took thecork from the brandy flask, and attempted to force a little between theman's clinched teeth. Aaron hurried into the stable and lit anotherlantern, and went about executing his orders. James, kneeling over theprostrate man, attempting to minister to him, saw the face fully in theglare of the lantern. The unconscious face did not look as evil as heremembered it. He even had a doubt if it were the face of the man whohad that evening stood at his horse's head, and so terrified Clemency. Then he became convinced that it was the same. There could be nomistaking the features, which were unusually regular and handsome, butwith a strange peculiarity of lines. It seemed to James that, even whilethe man was unconscious, all his features presented slightly upturnedlines as of bitter derision, intersected with downward lines ofmelancholy. All these lines were very delicate, but they served to giveexpression. He looked like a man who had suffered and made others sufferfor his sufferings, with a cruel enjoyment at the spectacle. It was astrange face, but not an evil one. However, after James had succeeded inforcing a few drops of brandy, which were met with convulsiveswallowing, between the man's teeth, he moved again, and his eyesopened, and immediately the evil shone out of the face like a malignantflame in a lamp. Knowledge of, and delight in, evil gleamed out of thesudden brightness of the man's great eyes. Then the evil seemed to leapto rage, as a spark leaps to flame. He tried to raise himself, andcursed in a choking voice. He seemed awake most fully to consciousness, and to know exactly what had happened. The dog in the office sent fortha perfect volley of barks. The man had been obliged to sink back, buthis right hand fumbled feebly for his pocket. "It is not there, " Gordon said coolly. "Shoot him, you--or--" croaked the man in his voice of unnatural rage. "Time enough for that, " said Gordon. He spoke coolly, but James saw himshaking as if with the ague. He was deadly white, and his whole facelooked drawn and withered. Aaron came leading the team harnessed to thewagon out of the stable. He had brought down the mattress and blankets, as the doctor had directed, and the three men after the rude bed hadbeen made in the wagon lifted the man thereon. He seemed to beconscious, but his muttering was so weak as to be almost inaudible, savefor occasional words. After he was in the wagon Gordon, turning to James, said: "You hadbetter go in the house and stay with the women. Aaron will go with me. Ishall take this man to the hotel, to Georgie K. 's. " A perfect volley of mumbled remonstrances came from the prostrate figurein the wagon. Gordon seemed to understand him. "No, I shall not take youthere, " he said, "but to the hotel. You will be better cared for. I knowthe proprietor. " He got in beside the man, and seated himself on the floor of the wagon. Aaron mounted to the driver's seat. "Tell Clemency and her mother not to worry if they are awake, " Gordoncalled to James as the horses started. James said yes and went into the house. He entered through the officedoor, and directly Clemency was in his arms, all trembling andhalf-weeping. "Oh, what has happened? Has Uncle Tom taken him away?" shequavered. "Hush, dear, you will wake your mother. Yes, he has taken him away. " "What was the matter, tell me. " "He was unconscious. He had fallen. " "He came to. I heard him speak. Were any bones broken?" "No, I think not. You must go to bed; it it very late, dear. " Clemency had put fresh wood on the hearth, and the little place was alla-waver and a-flicker with firelight. Grotesque shadows danced over thewalls and ceiling, and sprawled uncertainly on the floor. Clemencylooked up in James's face, and her own had a shocked whiteness andhorror, in spite of the tenderness in his. "Tell--" she began. "What, dear?" "Was it--that man?" James hesitated. "Tell me, " Clemency said imperiously. "Yes, I think it was. " Clemency glanced as if instinctively at the dog, lying asleep in a whitecoil on the hearth. "What was the matter with him?" she asked in ahardly audible voice. "He had fallen, dear, and was unconscious. " "Nothing--" Clemency glanced again at the dog, and did not complete herquestion. "He had recovered consciousness, " James said hastily. "Then he is not going to die. " It was impossible to say what kind ofrelief was in the girl's voice, but relief there was. "I see no reason why he should. I don't think your uncle thought hewould die. " "Where have they taken him?" "To the hotel. Now, Clemency dear, you must put all this out of yourmind and go to bed. " Clemency obeyed like a child. She kissed James, took a candle, and wentupstairs. James went into his own room, but he did not undress or go to bed. Instead, he sat at the window facing the street and stared into thedarkness, watching for Doctor Gordon's return. He sat there for nearlytwo hours, then he heard wheels, and saw the dark mass of the team andwagon lumber into sight. He ran through the house, and was in the drivewith a lantern when the team entered. "Have you been waiting for us, Elliot?" called Doctor Gordon's tired voice. "Yes, I thought I would. " "I stayed until I was sure he was comfortable, " said Gordon. Heclambered over the wheel of the wagon like an old man. When he was inthe office with James, and the lamp was lit, he sank into a chair, andlooked at the younger man with an expression almost of despair. "He is not going to die of it?" asked James hesitatingly. "No, " cried Gordon, "he shall not!" He looked up with sudden, fierceresolution and alertness. "Why should he die?" he demanded. "He is farfrom being old or feeble. His vitals are not touched. Why on earthshould you think he would die?" "I see no reason, " James replied hastily, "only--" "Only what, for God's sake?" "I thought you looked discouraged. " "Well, I am, and tired of the world, but this man is going to live. Seehere, boy, suppose you see if there is any hot water in the kitchen, andwe'll have something to drink, then we will go to bed, and God grant wedon't have a night call. " After Gordon had drank his face lightened somewhat, still he lookedyears older than he had done at dinner time, with that awful aging ofthe soul, which sometimes comes in an instant. When finally he wentupstairs James noticed how feebly he moved. It was on his tongue's endto offer to assist him, but he did not dare. The next morning, before James was up, he heard the rapid trot of ahorse on the drive, and wondered if Doctor Gordon had had a call soearly. When the breakfast-bell rang only Clemency was at the table. Themaid had returned in season to get breakfast, and was waiting with aseverely interrogative face. She had noticed blood on the frozen surface of the drive and had stoodsurveying it before she entered. She had asked Clemency if anything hadhappened, and the girl had told her that a man had fallen near theoffice door on the preceding evening and been injured, and Doctor Gordonhad taken him home. "What's the man's name?" Emma had inquired sharply. "I don't know, " said Clemency, and indeed she did not know, but therewas something secretive in her manner. Emma set her mouth hard andtossed her head. Curiosity was almost a lust with her. She was alwaysenraged when it was excited and not gratified. When James entered, she glanced severely at him and then at Clemency, asshe passed the muffins. She suspected something between them, and shewas baffled there. "Has Doctor Gordon gone out?" James asked. "Yes, he went right out as soon as he got up. Just had a cup of coffee;wouldn't wait for breakfast, " replied Emma in a nipping tone. Neither Clemency nor James made any comment. Both knew where he hadgone, and Emma, seeing that they both knew, grew more hostile thanever. Her manner of serving the beefsteak was fairly warlike. After breakfast Aaron told James of some parting instructions whichGordon had left with him. He had the team harnessed, and was to takeJames to visit certain patients. James went off on a long drive across the country, calling on his way atthe scattered houses of the patients. He did not return until noon, justbefore the luncheon-bell rang. Entering by the office door he foundGordon sitting before the hearth-fire, smoking, and staring gloomily atthe leaping flames. He looked up when James entered, said good morningin an abstracted fashion, and asked some questions about the patientswhom he had visited. James hesitated about inquiring for the man who hadbeen injured the night before, but finally he did so. The dog had sprungup to greet him, and between his pats on the white head and commands of"Down, sir, down!" he asked as casually as he could if Gordon had seenhis patient who had fallen in the drive the night before, and how hewas. Gordon turned upon James a face of such fierce misery that theyounger man fairly recoiled. "He isn't going to die?" he cried. "No, he is not going to die. He shall not die!" Gordon replied withpassionate emphasis. Then he added, in response to James's wondering, half-frightened look, "I have been there all the morning. I have justcome home. I have left everything for him. I don't dare get a nurse. Iam afraid. He may talk a good deal. Georgie K. Is with him now. I cantrust him, but I can't trust a nurse. I am going back after luncheon, and you may go with me. I would like you to see him. " "Does he seem to be very ill?" James asked timidly. "Not from the--the--wound, " replied Gordon, "but I am afraid ofsomething else. " "What?" "Erysipelas. I am afraid of that setting in. In fact, I am notaltogether sure that it has not. He is an erysipelas subject. He hastold me of two severe attacks which he has had. When he fell he got anabrasion of the cheek. That looks worse than the--the--wound. I shouldlike you to see him. You have seen erysipelas cases, of course, in yourhospital practice. " "Oh, yes. " "There is the bell for luncheon. We will go directly afterward. " James wondered within himself at the feverish haste with which Gordonswallowed his luncheon, frequently looking at his watch. He was actuallyshowing more anxiety over this man who had hounded him, of whom he hadlived in dread, than James had seen him show over any patient since hehad been with him. It seemed to him inconsistent. Mrs. Ewing did notcome down to luncheon; Clemency said that she was not feeling as well asusual but Gordon did not seem much disturbed even by that. He gaveClemency some powders, with instructions how to administer them to thesick woman before he left, but he did not show concern, and did not goupstairs to see her. Clemency herself looked pale and anxious. She found a chance to whisper to James before he went. "Is that man verymuch hurt?" she said close to his ear. "Hush, dear. I am afraid so. " "Uncle Tom seems terribly worried. I have never seen him so worried evenover mother, and he doesn't seem worried about her now. Oh, James, sheis suffering frightfully, I know. " Clemency gave a little sob. ThenGordon's voice was heard calling imperiously, "Elliot, come along!"James kissed the poor little face tenderly, and whispered that she mustnot worry, that probably the powders would relieve her mother, and thenthat she herself had better lie down and try to get a little sleep, andhurried out. Gordon was seated in the buggy, waiting for him. "I don't want to loseany time, " he said brusquely as James got in beside him. "Even a fewminutes sometimes work awful changes in a case like this. If he is noworse I will leave you with him, and make a call on Mrs. Wells. Ihaven't seen her to-day, and yesterday it looked like pneumonia, thenthere is that child with diphtheria at the Atwaters'. I ought to gothere myself, but if he is worse you will have to go, and to a fewothers, and I must stay with him. " Gordon drove furiously. Heads appeared at windows; people on the streetturned faces of wonder and alarm after him. It was soon noised aboutAlton that there had been a terrible accident, that somebody was at thepoint of death, but of that Gordon and James knew nothing. When they arrived at the hotel, Gordon, after he had tied his horse, took his medicine-case, and, followed by James, entered, and wentdirectly upstairs to a large room at the back of the hotel. This roomwas somewhat isolated in position, having a corridor on one side andlinen closets on another, it being a corner apartment with two outerwalls. Gordon opened the door softly and entered with James behind him. The bed stood between the two west windows. It was a northwest room. Theafternoon sun had not yet reached it. It was furnished after the usualfashion of country hotel bedrooms. It was clean and sparse, and thefurniture had the air of having a past, of having witnessed almosteverything which occurs to humanity. It seemed battered and stained, though not with wear, but with humanity. The old-fashioned black walnutbedstead in which the sick man lay seemed to have a thousand voices ofexperiences. A great piece was broken off one corner of the footboard. The wound in the wood looked sinister. Directly opposite the bed stoodthe black walnut bureau, with its swung glass. The glass was crackeddiagonally, and reflected the bed and its occupant with an air ofexperience. Gordon went directly to his patient. Beside him sat GeorgieK. He looked at the two doctors and shook his head gravely. His greatblond face was unshaven and paled with watching. Nobody spoke a word. All three looked at the man in the bed, who lay either asleep, orfeigning sleep, or in a stupor. Gordon felt for his pulse softly, withkeen eyes upon his face. This face was unspeakably ghastly. The throatwas swathed in bandages. There was one tiny spot of red on the white ofthe linen. The man's eyes were rolled upward. Around an abrasion on thecheek, which glistened oily with some unguent which had been applied toit, was a circle of painful red clearly defined from the pallor of therest of the cheek. Gordon spoke. "How do you feel?" he asked of the man, who evidentlyheard and understood, but did not reply. He simply made a little motionof facial muscles, of shoulders, of his whole body under thebed-clothes, which indicated rage and impatience. "Does that place on your cheek burn?" asked Gordon. Again there was no answer, this time not even any motion. "Have you any pain?" asked Gordon. The man lay motionless. "Is there anyone in the parlor?" Gordon asked abruptly of Georgie K. "No, Doc. You can go right in there. " Gordon beckoned to James, and the two went downstairs, and entered theroom of the wax flowers and the stuffed canary. "It looks like erysipelas, " Gordon said with no preface. James nodded. "All I have done so far, in the absence of any positive proof of thetruth of that diagnosis, is to apply what you will think an old woman'sremedy, but I have known it to give good results in light cases, and Idid not like to resort to the more strenuous methods until I was sure ofmy ground, for fear of complications. I applied a little mutton tallow, and that was all, but the inflammation has increased since I saw him. Itnow looks to me like a clearly defined case of erysipelas. " "It does to me, " said James. "So far--the--wound in the throat seems to be doing well, " said Gordongloomily. Then he looked at the younger physician with an odd, helplessexpression. "His life must be saved, " said he. "Which do you prefer ofthe two methods of treating the disease--that is, of the two primaryones? Of course, there are methods innumerable. I may have grown rustyin my country practice. Do you prefer the leaches, the nitrate ofsilver, the low diet, or the reverse?" "I think I prefer the reverse. " "Well, you may be right, " said Gordon, "and yet you have to considerthat this is a man in full vigor, " he added, "that presumably he hasconsiderable reserve strength upon which to draw. Still if you preferthe other treatment--" "I have seen very good results from it, " said James. He was becomingmore and more astonished at the older man's helpless, almost appealing, manner toward himself. "What is the man's name?" he asked. "I don't know what name he has given here, " Gordon replied evasively. "Iwill tell you later on what his name is. " Suddenly the parlor door was flung open, and a woman appeared. She wasmiddle-aged, very large, clad in black raiment, which had an effect ofsliding and slipping from her when she moved. She kept clutching at thebuttons of her coat, which did not quite meet over her full front. Shebrought together the ends of a black fur boa, she reached constantly forthe back of her skirts, and gave them a firm tug which relaxed the nextmoment. Her decent black bonnet was askew, her large face was flushed. She had been a strapping, handsome country girl once; now she was almostindecent in her involuntary exuberance of coarse femininity. "How do you do, Mrs. Slocum?" Doctor Gordon said politely. James rose, Gordon introduced him. Mrs. Slocum did not bow, she jerkedher great chin upward, then she spoke with really alarming ferocity. "Where has my boarder went? That's what I want to know. That's what Ihave come here for, not for no bowin's and scrapin's. Where has myboarder went?" A keen look came into Gordon's face. "I don't know who your boarder is, Mrs. Slocum, " he said. CHAPTER X Mrs. Slocum looked at the doctor with a wide gape of surprise. "Thought you knew, " said she. "His name is Meserve, Mr. Edward Meserve, and if he has come and went, and not told where, he was good pay, and ifhe was took sick whilst he was to my house, I could have asked twice asmuch as I did before. I'd like to know what right you had to take myboarder to the hotel. He was my boarder. He wan't your boarder. I wanthim fetched right back. That's what I have came for. " "Mrs. Slocum, " said Gordon in a hard voice, "Mr. Meserve is too sick tobe moved, and his disease may be contagious. You might lose all yourother boarders, and whether he recovers or not, you would be obliged tofumigate your house, and have his room repapered and plastered. " "He's got money enough to pay for it, " Mrs. Slocum said doggedly. "How do you know?" "You think he ain't?" Gordon looked imperturbable. "He always paid me regular, and he ain't been to meals or to home nightstwo-thirds of the time. " Gordon said nothing. "You mean if my other boarders went, and the room had to be done over, he ain't got money enough to make it good?" Gordon said nothing. The woman fidgeted. "Well, " said she, "if there'sany doubt of it, mebbe he _is_ better off here. " Suddenly she gave asuspicious glance at Gordon. "Say, " said she, "the room here will haveto be done over. Who's goin' to pay for that?" "The room is isolated, " replied Gordon briefly. The woman stared. She evidently did not know the meaning of the word. "Well, " said she at last, "if the room _is_ insulted, it will have to bedone over. Who's going to pay for that?" "I am. " "Well, I don't see why you couldn't pay _me_ for that as well as Mr. Evans. " "Don't you?" "No. " "Well, I do. Now, Mrs. Slocum, I really have no more time to waste. Mr. Meserve is a very sick man, and I have to go to him. I came down hereto consult with my assistant, and you have hindered us. Good-day!" But the woman still stood her ground. "I'm goin' to see him, " she said. "He's my boarder. " "You will do so at your own risk, and also, if your call should proveinjurious to him, at a risk of being indicted for manslaughter, besidespossibly catching the disease. " "You say it's ketching?" "I said it might be. We have not yet entirely formed our diagnosis. " The woman stared yet again. Then she turned about with a switch whichdisclosed fringy black petticoats and white stockings. "Well, form yournoses all you want to, " said she. "You have took away my boarder, an' ifhe gits well, and it ain't ketchin', I'll have the law on ye. " Gordon drew a deep breath when the door closed behind her. "It seemssometimes to me as if comedy were the haircloth shirt of tragedy, " hesaid grimly. "Well, Elliot, we will go upstairs and begin the fight. Iam going to fight to the death. I shall remain here to-night. You willhave to look after my other patients when you leave here. I am sorry toput so much upon you. " "Oh, that's all right, " said James, following Gordon upstairs. But as hespoke he wondered more and more that this man, after what he had knownof him, should be of more importance to Gordon than all others. Even during the short time they had been downstairs the angry red aroundthe abrasion on the cheek had widened, and widened toward the head. Gordon opened his medicine-case and took out a bottle and hairbrush andcommenced work. Directly the entire cheek was blackened with theapplication of iron. Georgie K. Had brought glasses, and medicine hadbeen forced into the patient's mouth. "Now go and have some eggnogmixed, Georgie K. , " said Gordon, "and bring it here yourself, if youwill. I hate to trouble you. " "That's all right, Doc, " said Georgie K. , and went. James remained only a short time, since he had the other calls to make. He returned quite late to find that dinner had been kept waiting forhim, and Clemency in her pretty red gown was watching. Mrs. Ewing hadnot come down all day. "Mother says she is easier, " Clemency observed, "only she thinks it better to keep perfectly still. " Clemency said verylittle about the man at the hotel. She seemed to dread the very mentionof him. She and James spent a long evening together, and she wasentirely charming. James began to put behind him all the mystery anddark hints of evil. Clemency, although fond, was as elusive as abutterfly. She had feminine wiles to her finger tips, but she was quiteinnocent of the fact that they were wiles. It took the whole evening forthe young man to secure a kiss or two, and have her upon his knee forthe space of about five minutes. She nestled closely to him with alittle sigh of happiness for a very little while, then she slipped away, and stood looking at him like an elf. "I am not going to do that much, "said she. "Why not, darling?" "Because I am not. It is silly. I love you, but I will not be silly. Iwant only what will last. The love will last, but the silliness won't. We are going to be married, but I shall not want to sit on your knee allthe time, and what is more, you will not want me to. Suppose we shouldlive to be very old. Who ever saw a very old woman sitting on her veryold husband's knee? The love will last, but that will not. We will nothave so very much of that which will not last. " For all that, James caught Clemency and kissed her until her soft facewas crimson, but he said to himself, when he was in his own room, thatnever was a girl so wise, and how much more he wanted to hold her uponhis knee--as if he had not already held her there--and yet she was notcoquettish. She was simply earnest, with an odd, wise, childlikeearnestness. Early the next morning James went to the hotel, and found Gordon haggardand intense, sitting beside his patient, who was evidently worse. Theterrible red fire of Saint Anthony had mounted higher, and settledlower. "It has attacked his throat now, " Gordon said in a whisper. "Iexpect every minute it will reach his brain. When it does, nobody butyou and I must be with him, not even Georgie K. He is getting some rest. He was up half the night, bless him! But when it reaches the brain twowill be needed here, and the two must be you and I. Take this list, andmake the calls as quickly as you can, and come back here. " James, with alast glance at the black and swollen face of the man, who now seemed tobe in a state of coma, obeyed. He hurried through his list, andreturned. He found no apparent change in the patient, and tried topersuade Gordon to take a little rest, but the elder man was obdurate. "No" he said, "here I stay. I have had a bit to eat and drink. You godown yourself and get something, then come back. The crisis may arriveany second. Then I shall need you. " The fire had outstripped the blackness on the man's cheek toward thetemple. One eye was closed. When James returned after a hurried lunch, he heard a loud, terriblevoice in the room. Outside the door a maid stood with a horrified facelistening. James grasped her roughly by the shoulder. "Get out of this, "he ordered. "If I find you or any one else here listening, you'll besorry for it. " The maid gasped out an excuse and fled. James tried the door, but it waslocked. "Is that you, Elliot?" called Gordon above the other awfulvoice. "Yes. " The door was unlocked, and James sprang into the room, but he was hardlyquick enough, for the man was almost out of bed, when the two doctorsforced him back with all their strength. Then he sat up and raved, andsuch raving! James felt his very blood cold within him. Revelations asof a devil were in those ravings. Once in a while James opened the doorcautiously to be sure that no one was listening. The raving manreiterated names as of a multitude. Gordon's was among them, and manynames of women, one especially--Catherine. He repeated that name morefrequently than the others, but the others were legion. There wassomething indescribably horrible in hearing this repetition of names ofunknown people, accompanied with statements beyond belief regarding themand the raving man. Gordon's face was ghastly, and so was the youngerdoctor's. "Look and see if any one is listening, for God's sake, " Gordongasped, after one terrific outburst, and James looked, but Georgie K. Was keeping watch that nobody approached the door. James never knew how long he was in that room with Gordon listening tothose frenzied ravings, and striving with him to keep the man frominjuring himself. The daylight waned, James lighted a lamp. Then amighty creaking was heard outside, and Georgie K. , himself bearing agreat supper tray, knocked at the door. "It's me, and I brought yousomething, " he shouted, and then they heard his retreating footsteps. Much delicacy was there in Georgie K. , and much affection for DoctorGordon. James brought in the tray, and now and then he and Gordon took advantageof a slight lull to take a bite, but neither had any desire for food. Itwas only the instinctive sense that they must keep up their strength inorder that nobody else should hear what they were hearing, that forcedthem to eat and drink. Well into the evening the ravings stoppedsuddenly, the man fell back upon his pillow, and lay still. Jamesthought at first that all was over, but presently stertorous breathingbegan. "Now get Georgie K. Up, " Gordon said hoarsely. "There is no further needfor us to be alone, and there will be directions to be given. " James went out and found Georgie K. Sitting up in his bar-room. "Doctor Gordon wants you, " he said. "How is he?" asked Georgie K. , following James. "Dying. " Georgie K. Made an indescribable sound in his throat as the two menascended the stair. The man was a long time dying. It seemed to James as if that awfulstruggle of the soul for release from the body would never cease. Heknew, or thought he knew, that there was no suffering to the dying man, but, after all, the sounds as of suffering seemed almost to prove it. Gordon whispered for a while to Georgie K. , as if the dying man might bedisturbed by audible speech. Then Georgie K. Tiptoed out in his creakingboots, and James knew that some arrangements were to be perfected forthe last services to the dead. Gordon stood over the bed, with his ownface as ghastly as that of its occupant. James dared not speak to him. It was midnight when the dreadful breathing ceased, and there wassilence. Georgie K. Had returned. The three living men looked at oneanother with ghastly understanding of what had happened, then theyhastily arranged some matters. The dead man was decently composed anddressed, his throat swathed anew in linen handkerchiefs, and anotherhandkerchief laid over the discolored face, which had in death a strangepeace, as if relieved of an uneasy and wearing tenant. Before Georgie K. Went out, the village undertaker had been summoned, and had been waitingfor some time in the parlor with a young assistant. They mounted thestairs bearing some appurtenances of their trade. Gordon addressed theundertaker briefly, giving some directions, then he motioned to James, and they passed out. Georgie K. Remained in the room. He prevented theundertaker from removing the linen swathe on the dead man's throat. "Docsays it's catching, " he said, and the undertaker drew back quickly. When Gordon and James were in the buggy on the way home, Gordon all atonce gave a great sigh, like that of a swimmer who yields to the forceof the current, or the fighter who sinks before his opponent. "I'm aboutdone, too, " he said. "Here, take the lines, Elliot. " James took the reins and looked anxiously at his companion's face, apale blue in the moonlight. "You are not ill?" he said. "No, only done up. For God's sake let me rest, and don't talk till weget home!" James drove on. Gordon's head sank upon his breast, and hebegan to breathe regularly. He did not wake until James roused him whenthey reached home. * * * * * The next morning before breakfast James was awakened by a loud voice inthe office, the high-pitched one of a woman. He recalled how exhaustedDoctor Gordon had been the night before, and rose and dressed quickly. When he entered the office Gordon was sitting huddled up in his oldarmchair before the fire, while bolt upright beside him sat Mrs. Slocum, discoursing in loud and angry tones, which Gordon seemed scarcely toheed. When James entered she turned upon him. "Now I'll see if I can gitanythin' out of you, " she said. "He" (pointing to Gordon) "don't act asif he was half-alive. I'm goin' to have my rights if I have to go to lawto git 'em. Doctor Gordon took away my boarder. And if I'd had him sickand die to my house, I could have got extra. Now what I want is jestthis, an' I'm goin' to hev it, too! Doctor Gordon said Mr. Meservedidn't have money. I don't know nothin' about that. I ain't went throughhis pockets, but his trunk is to my house, and there's awful nice men'sclothes into it, and I mean to hev 'em. That ain't nothin' more'n fair. That's what I hev came here for, jest as soon as I heard the poor manhad passed away. I left my daughter to git the breakfast for theboarders, and I hev came here to see about that trunk, and hisn'sclothes. " James laughed. "But, Mrs. Slocum, " he said, "what on earth do you wantwith men's clothes? You can't wear them. " To his intense surprise the great face of the woman suddenly reddenedlike that of a young girl, but the next moment she gave her head adefiant toss, and stared boldly at him. "What if I can't?" said she. "There's other men as can wear 'em, and they'll jest fit Bill Todd. He'sbeen boardin' with me five year, and if he wants to git married and savehis board bill, it's his business and mine and nobody else's. " James turned to Gordon, who seemed prostrated before this feminineonslaught. "Do you object to this woman's having the trunk?" he asked. Gordon made an effort and roused himself. "She can have it after I haveexamined it for papers, " he said. "There ain't a scrap of writin' in the trunk, " Mrs. Slocum vociferated. "Me an' my boarder hev looked. There ain't no writin' an' no jewelry, an' no money. He used to carry his money with him, and he had a bankbook in his pocket, and a long, red book he used to git money out of thebank. I've seen 'em. Doctor Gordon said he didn't have no money. He didhev money. Once he left the long, red book on his bureau, and I lookedin it, and the leaves that are as good as money wan't a quarter tornout. I know he had money, an' I've been cheated out of it. But all I askis that trunk. " "For God's sake take the trunk and clear out, " shouted Gordon withunexpected violence, "but if there is a scrap of written paper in thattrunk, and you keep it, you'll be sorry. " "There ain't, " said the woman with evident truthfulness. She rose andclutched at the back of her skirt, and tugged at her boa and coat. "Thank you, Doctor Gordon, " said she. "When is the funeral goin' to be?" "Tell her to-morrow at two o'clock at the hotel, and tell her to leave, "said Gordon, and his voice was suddenly apathetic again. When the woman had gone Gordon turned to James. "How comedy will prickthrough tragedy, " he said. "Yes, " James answered vaguely. He looked anxiously at Gordon, whose eyeshad at once a desperate and an utterly wearied appearance. "I will makeall the arrangements for the funeral, if you wish, Doctor Gordon, " hesaid. "I know the undertaker, and I can manage it as well as you. Youlook used up. " "I am pretty nearly, " muttered Gordon. Then he gave an almostaffectionate glance at James. "Do you think you can manage it?" he said. James smiled. "It is a new thing to me, but I have no doubt I can, " hereplied. "You cannot imagine what a weight you would take off my shoulders. Don'tspare money. See to it that everything is good and as it should be. Thebills are to be sent to me. " Gordon answered an unspoken question of James. "Yes, " he said, "he hadmoney, a considerable fortune, and he has no heirs--at least, I am assure as I need be that he has none. In his pockets were two bank books, small check books, and a security register book. I have done them up ina parcel. See to it that they are buried with him. " "But, " said James. "Oh, yes, I know. Sooner or later there will be advertisements in thepapers, and that sort of thing, but that will pass. God knows I wouldnot touch his money with the devil's pitchfork, nor allow anybody whom Iloved to touch it. Let him be buried under the name by which he wasknown here. It is not the name, needless to say, on the bank books. While living under other than his rightful name, he must have gone toNew York in person to supply himself with cash. There was some twohundred dollars in bank notes in his wallet. That is with the otherthings. Let the whole be buried with him, and see to it that Drake doesnot discover it. You had better take the parcel now. Open the rightdrawer of the table, and you will find it in the corner. Then, afterbreakfast, you had better see Drake at once. I will attend to thepatients to-day. " "You are not able. " "Able is a word which I have eliminated from my vocabulary as applied tomyself. " The funeral, which was held the next afternoon in the parlor of thehotel, was at once a ghastly and a grotesque function. The two doctors, the undertaker and his assistant, Georgie K. And the bar-tender, andMrs. Slocum with a female friend, and a man, evidently the boarder towhom she had referred, were the only persons present. The boarder wore ahat which had belonged to the dead man. It was many sizes too large forhis grayish blond, foolish little head, and, when he put it on, itnearly obscured his eyes. Mrs. Slocum sniffed audibly through theservice, which was short, being conducted by the old Presbyterianclergyman of Alton. He hardly spoke above a whisper of "the stranger whohad passed from our midst into the beyond. " His concluding prayer wasquite inaudible. Mrs. Slocum had brought a bouquet of cheerful pinkgeraniums from her window plants, which on the top of the closed blackcasket made an odd spot of color and life in the dim room. Among theblossoms were some rose-geranium leaves, whose fragrance seemed tomantle everything like smoke. While the clergyman conducted theinaudible services loud voices were heard in the bar-room, and the yelpof a dog. On one side of the house was the hush of death, on the otherthe din of life. James wondered what the clergyman found to say: allthat he had distinguished was the expression, "The stranger within ourmidst. " It all seemed horribly farcical to him. The dead man in his casket hadno personality for him; the sniffs of Mrs. Slocum, her boarder with thehat, assumed, in his eyes, the character of a "Punch and Judy" show. Butalong with that feeling came the realization of a most terrible pathos. He felt a sort of pity for the dead man, whose very personality hadbecome nothing to him, and the pity was the greater because of that. Itbecame a pity for the very scheme of things, for man in the abstract, born perhaps, through no fault of his own, to sin and misery, bothmiserable and causing misery throughout his life, and then to end in thegrave, and vanish from the sight and minds of other men. He felt that itwould not be so sad if it were sadder, if Mrs. Slocum's sniffs had comefrom her heart, and not from her sentimentality. He felt that a funeralwhere love is not is the most mournful function on earth. Then, too, hefelt a great anxiety for Doctor Gordon, who sat shrugged up in his grayovercoat, with his gray grizzle of beard meeting the collar, and hisforehead heavily corrugated over pent and gloomy eyes. He was heartily glad when the service was over, when the casket had beenlowered into the grave, when the village hearse had turned off into astreet, the horse going at a sharp trot, and he and Doctor Gordon wereleft alone. He drove. Gordon sat hunched into a corner of the buggy, ashe had sat in the corner of the hotel parlor. James hesitated aboutsaying anything, but finally he spoke, he felt foolishly enough, although he meant the words to be comforting. "You did all you could tosave his life, " he said. Gordon made no reply. When they reached the house, Clemency's head disappeared from thewindow, where she had evidently been watching. She met them at theoffice door, with an odd, shocked, inquiring expression on her littleface. James kissed her furtively, while Gordon's back was turned, as hedivested himself of his gray coat. "Dinner is nearly ready, " Clemency said in an agitated voice. "How is she?" asked Gordon, then before she had time to reply, he addedalmost roughly, "What on earth are you fretting about?" "I am not fretting, " Clemency answered in a weak little voice. "There is nothing in all this for you to concern yourself with. Put itout of your head!" "Yes, Uncle Tom. " "How is she?" "She has been asleep all the afternoon. " "She has not had another attack?" "No, Uncle Tom. " Then the dinner-bell rang. To James's surprise, but everything surprised him now, Gordon seemed torecover his spirits. He ate heartily. He laughed and joked. After dinnerhe went upstairs to see Mrs. Ewing, and when he came down insisted thatJames should accompany him to the hotel for a game of euchre. Jameswould have preferred remaining with Clemency, whose eyes were wistful, but Gordon hurried him away. They remained until nearly midnight in theparlor, where the funeral had taken place a short time before, playingeuchre, telling stories, and drinking apple-jack. James noticed that thehotel man often cast an anxious and puzzled glance at Gordon. He beganto fancy that what seemed mirth and jollity was the mere bravado ofmisery and a ghastly mask of real enjoyment. He was glad when Gordonmade the move to leave. Georgie K. Stood in the door watching the twomen untie the horse and get into the buggy. "Take care of yourself, Doc, " he hallooed, and there was real affection and concern in hisvoice. Gordon drove now, and the mare, being on her homeward road, made goodtime. James helped Gordon unharness, as Aaron had gone to bed. His deepsnores sounded through the stable from his room above. "It's a pity towake up anything, " Gordon said. "Guess well put the mare up ourselves. "Now his voice was bitter again. Gordon had the key of the office door, and after locking the stable the two men entered. Gordon threw some woodon the fire. The lamp with its dangling prisms was burning. "Sit down aminute, " Gordon said, "'I have something to tell you. I may as well getit off my mind now. It has got to come sometime. " James sat down and lit a cigar. He felt himself in a nervous tension. Gordon filled his pipe and lit it, then he began to speak in an odd, monotonous voice, as though he were reciting. "That man's name was James Mendon. He was an Englishman. When I firstbegan practice it was in the West. That man had a ranch near the littletown where I lived with my sister Alice. Alice was a beautiful girl. Wehad lost our parents, and she kept house for me. The man was as handsomeas a devil, and he had the devil's own way with women. God only knowswhat a good girl like my sister saw in him. He had a bad name, even outin that rough country. Horrible tales were circulated about his crueltyto animals for one thing. His cowboys deserted him and told stories. His very dog turned on him, and bit him. God knows how he was torturingthe animal. I saw the scar on his hand when he lay on his death-bed. Well, however it was, my sister loved him and married him, and hetreated her like a fiend. She died, and it was a merciful release. Hedeserted her three months before her death. Sold out all he had, andleft her without a cent. She came back to me, and three months laterClemency was born. " Gordon paused and looked at James. "Yes, " he said, "that man wasClemency's father. " He waited, but only for a second. The young man spoke, and his clearyoung voice rang out like a trumpet. "I never loved Clemency as I loveher now, " he said. CHAPTER XI Gordon smiled at James. "God bless you, boy!" he said. "What possible difference do you think that could make?" demanded Jameshotly. "Could that poor little girl help it?" "Of course she could not, but some men might object, and with reason, tomarrying a girl who came of such stock on her father's side. " "I am not one of those men. " "No, I don't think you are, but it is only my duty to put the caseplainly before you. That man who was buried this afternoon was simplyunspeakable. He was a monstrosity of perverted morality. I cannot evenbring myself to tell you what I know of him. I cannot even bring myselfto give you the least hint of what my poor young sister, Clemency'smother, suffered in her brief life with him. You may fear heredity--" "Heredity, nothing! Don't I know Clemency?" "I myself really think that you have nothing whatever to fear. Clemencyis her mother's living and breathing image as far as looks go, and asfar as I can judge in the innermost workings of her mind. I have notseen in her the slightest taint from her evil father, though God knows Ihave watched for it with horror as the years have passed. After she wasborn I smuggled her away by night, and gave out word that the child haddied at the same time with the mother. There was a private funeral, andthe casket was closed. I had hard work to carry it through successfully, for I was young in those days, and broken-hearted at losing my sister, but carry it through I did, and no one knew except a nurse. I trustedher, I was obliged to do so, and I fear that she has betrayed me. Iestablished a practice in another town in another State, and there I metClara. She has told me that she informed you of the fact that she was mywife, but not of our reasons for concealing it. Just before we weremarried I became practically certain that Clemency's father had gainedin some way information that led him to suspect, if not to be absolutelycertain, that his child had not died with his wife. I had a widowedsister, Mrs. Ewing, who lived in Iowa with her only daughter just aboutClemency's age. Just before our marriage she decided to remove toEngland to live with some relatives of her deceased husband. They hadconsiderable property, and she had very little. I begged her to gosecretly, or rather to hint that she was going East to live with me, which she did. Nobody in the little Iowa village, so far as I knew, wasaware of the fact that my sister and daughter had gone to England, andnot East to live with me. Clara and I were married privately in anobscure little Western hamlet, and came East at once. We have lived invarious localities, being driven from one to another by the danger ofClemency's father ascertaining the truth; and my wife has always beenknown as Mrs. Ewing, and Clemency as her daughter. It has been a life ofconstant watchfulness and deception, and I have been bound hand andfoot. Even had Clemency's father not been so exceedingly careful that itwould have been difficult to reach him by legal methods, there was thepoor child to be considered, and the ignominy which would come upon herat the exposure of her father. I have done what I could. I am naturallya man who hates deception, and wishes above all things to lead a lifewith its windows open and shades up, but I have been forced into thevery reverse. My life has been as closely shuttered and curtained as myhouse. I have been obliged to force my own wife to live after the samefashion. Now the cause for this secrecy is removed, but as far as she isconcerned, the truth must still be concealed for Clemency's sake. Itmust not be known that that dead man was her father, and the veryinstant we let go one thread of the mystery the whole fabric willunravel. Poor Clara can never be acknowledged openly as my wife, thebest and most patient wife a man ever had, and under a heavier sentenceof death this moment than the utmost ingenuity of man could contrive. "Gordon groaned, and let his head sink upon his hands. "She told me some time ago that she was ill, " James said pityingly. "Ill? She has been upon the executioner's block for years. It is notillness; that is too tame a word for it. It is torture, prolonged asonly the evil forces of Nature herself can prolong it. " Gordon rose and shook himself angrily. "I am keeping her now almostconstantly under morphine, " he said. "She has suffered more lately. Theattacks have been more frequent. There has never been the slightestpossibility of a surgical operation. From the very first it was utterlyhopeless, and if it had been the dog there, I should have put a bulletthrough his head and considered myself a friend. " Gordon gazed withmiserable reflection at the dog. "I am glad that the _direct_ cause ofthat man's death was not what it might have been, " he said. He shook himself again as a dog shakes off water. He laughed a miserablelaugh. "Well, " he said, "Clemency is free now. She can go her ways asshe will. You see she resembled her mother so closely that I had toguard her from even the sight of her father. He would have known thetruth at once. Clemency is free, but I have paid an awful price for herfreedom and for your life. If I had not done what you doubtless know Idid that night, you would have been shot, and it would have been astruggle between myself and her father, with the very good chance of mybeing killed, and Clara and the girl left defenseless. His revolvercarried six deaths in it. It would all have depended upon the quicknessof the dog, and I should have left too much hanging upon that. " "I don't see what else you could do, " James said in a low voice. He waspale himself. He did not blame Gordon. He felt that he himself, inGordon's place, would have done as he had done, and yet he felt as iffaced close to a horror of murder and death, and he knew from the lookupon the other man's countenance that it was the same with him. "I saw no other way, " Gordon said in a broken voice, "but--but I don'tknow whether I am a murderer or an executioner, and I never shall know. God help me! Well, " he added with a sigh, "what is done, is done. Let usgo to bed. " James said when they parted at his room door that he hoped Mrs. Ewingwould have a comfortable night. "Yes, she will, " replied Gordon quietly. Then he gave the young man'shand a warm clasp. "God bless you!" he whispered. "If this had turnedyou against the child, it would have driven me madder than I am now. Ilove her as if she were my own. You and your loyalty are all I have tohold to. " "You can hold to that to the end, " James returned with warmth, and helooked at Gordon as he might have looked at his own father. Late as it was, he wrote that night to his own father and mother, telling them of his engagement to Clemency. There now can be no possibleneed for secrecy with regard to it. James, in spite of his vague senseof horror, felt an exhilaration at the thought that now all could beabove board, that the shutters could be flung open. He felt as if anincubus had rolled from his mental consciousness. Clemency herselfexperienced something of the same feeling. She appeared at thebreakfast-table the next morning with her hat. "Uncle says I may go withyou on your rounds, " she said to James. She beamed, and yet there was atroubled and puzzled expression on her pretty face. When she and Jameshad started, and were moving swiftly along the country road, she saidsuddenly, "Will you tell me something?" James hesitated. "Will you?" she repeated. "I can't promise, dear, " he said. "Why not?" she asked pettishly. "Because it might be something which I ought not to tell you. " "You ought to tell me everything if--if--" she hesitated, and blushed. "If what?" asked James tenderly. She nestled up to him. "If you--feel toward me as you say you do. " "If. Oh, Clemency!" "Then you ought to tell me. No, you needn't kiss me. I want you to tellme something. I don't want to be kissed. " "Well, what is that you want to know, dear?" "Will you promise to tell me?" "No, dear, I can't promise, but I will tell you if I am able withoutdoing you harm. " "Who was that man who was buried yesterday, who had been hunting me solong, and frightening me and Uncle Tom, and why have I been compelled tostay housed as if I were a prisoner so much of my life?" "Because you were in danger, dear, from the man. " "You are answering me in a circle. " Clemency sat upright and looked atJames, and the blue fire in her eyes glowed. "Who was the man?" sheasked peremptorily. "I can't tell you, dear. " "But you know. " "Yes. " "Why can't you tell me then?" "Because it is not best. " Clemency shrugged her shoulders. "Why did he hunt me so?" "I can't tell you, dear. " "But you know. " "I am not sure. " "But you think you know. " "Yes. " "Then tell me. " "I can't, dear. " "When will you tell me?" "Never!" Clemency looked at him, and again she blushed. "You will tell meafter--we are--married. You will have to tell me everything then, " shewhispered. James shook his head. "Won't you then?" "No, dear, I shall never tell you while I live. " Clemency made a sudden grasp at the reins. "Then I will never marryyou, " she said. "I will never marry you, if you keep things from me. " "I will never keep things from you that you ought to know, dear. " "I ought to know this!" James remained silent. Clemency had brought the horse to a full stop. "Won't you ever tell me?" she asked. "No, never! dear. " "Then let me get out. This is Annie Lipton's street. I am going to seeher. I have not seen her for a long time. I will walk home. It is safeenough now. You can tell me that much?" "Yes, it is, but Clemency, dear. " "I am not Clemency, dear. I am not going to marry you. You say you wroteyour father and mother last night that we were going to get married. Well, you can just write again and tell them we are not. No, you neednot try to stop me. I will get out. Good-by! I shall not be home toluncheon. I shall stay with Annie. I like her very much better than Ilike you. " With that Clemency had slipped out of the buggy and hurried up a streetwithout looking back. James drove on. He felt disturbed, but notseriously so. It was impossible to take Clemency's anger as a realthing. It was so whimsical and childish. He had counted upon his longmorning with her, but he went on with a little smile on his face. He was half inclined to think, so slightly did he estimate Clemency'sanger, that she would not keep her word, and would be home for luncheon. But when he returned she was not there, and she had not come when thebell rang. "Why, where is Clemency?" Gordon said, when they entered thedining-room. "She insisted upon stopping to see her friend Miss Lipton, " said James. "She said that she might not be home to lunch. " Emma gave one of hersharp, baffled glances at him, then, having served the two men, shetossed her head and went out. Nobody knew how much she wished to listenat the kitchen door, but she was above such a course. "Clemency and I had a bit of a tiff, " James explained to Gordon. "Sheseemed vexed because I would not tell her what you told me last night. She is curious to know more about--that man. " "She must not know, " Gordon said quickly. "Never mind if she does seem alittle vexed. She will get over it. I know Clemency. She is like hermother. The power of sustained indignation against one she loves is notin the child, and she must not know. It would be a dreadful thing forher to know. I myself cannot have it. It is enough of a horror as it is, but to have that child look at me, and think--" Gordon broke offabruptly. "She will never know through me, " James said, "and I think with you thather resentment will not last. " "She will be home this afternoon, " said Gordon, "and the walk will doher good. " But the two returned from their afternoon calls, and still Clemency hadnot returned. Emma met them at the door. "Mrs. Ewing says she is worriedabout Miss Clemency, " she said. Gordon ran upstairs. When he came downhe joined James in the office. "I have pacified Clara, " he said, "butsuppose you jump into the buggy, Aaron has not unharnessed yet, anddrive over to Annie Lipton's for her. It is growing colder, and Clemencyhas not been outdoors much lately, and she has rather a delicate throat. It is time now that she was home. " James smiled. "Suppose she will not come with me?" he suggested. "Nonsense, " said Gordon. "She will be only too glad if you meet herhalf-way. She will come. Tell her I said that she must. " "All right, " replied James. He went out, got into the buggy, and drove along rapidly. He had theteam, and the horses were still quite fresh, as they had not been longdistances that day. There was a vague fear in the young man's mind, although he tried to dispel it by the force of argument. "What has thegirl to fear now?" his reason kept dinning in his ears, but, in spiteof himself, something else, which seemed to him unreason, made himanxious. When he reached Annie Lipton's home, a fine old house, overhungwith a delicate tracery of withered vines, he saw Annie's pretty head ata front window. She opened the door before he had time to ring the bell, and she looked with alarmed questioning at him. "I have come for Miss Ewing, her uncle--" James began, but Annieinterrupted him, her face paling perceptibly. "Clemency, " she said;"why, she left here directly after lunch. She said she must go. She feltanxious about her mother, and did not want to leave her any longer. Hasn't she come home yet?" "No, " said James. "And you didn't meet her? You must have met her. " "No. " The two stood staring at each other. A delicate old face peeped out ofthe door at the right of the halls. It was like Annie's, only dimmed byage, and shaded by two leaf-like folds of gray hair as smooth as silver. "Oh, mother, Clemency has not got home!" Annie cried. "Dr. Elliot, thisis my mother. Mother, Clemency has not got home. What do you think hashappened?" The lady came out in the hall. She had a quiet serenity of manner, buther soft eyes looked anxious. "Could she have stopped anywhere, dear?"she said. "You know, mother, there is not a single house between here and her ownwhere Clemency ever stops, " said Annie. She was trembling all over. James made a movement to go. "What are you going to do?" cried Annie. "Stop at every house between here and Doctor Gordon's, and ask if thepeople have seen her, " replied James. Then he ran back to the buggy, and heard as he went a little nervouscall from Annie, "Oh, let us know if--" "I will let you know when I find her, Miss Lipton, " he called back as hegathered up the lines. He kept his word. He did stop at every house, andat every one all knowledge of the girl was disclaimed. There were notmany houses, the road being a lonely one. He was met mostly by women whoseemed at once to share his anxiety. One woman especially asked verycarefully for a description of Clemency, and he gave a minute one. "Yousay her mother is ill, too, " said the woman. She was elderly, but stillpretty. She had kept her tints of youth as some withered flowers do, and there seemed still to cling to her the atmosphere of youth, asfragrance clings to dry rose leaves. She was dressed in rather asuperior fashion to most of the countrywomen, in soft lavender cashmerewhich fitted her slight, tall figure admirably. James had a glimpsebehind her of a pretty interior: a room with windows full of bloomingplants, of easy-chairs and many cushioned sofas, beside book-cases. Thewoman looked, so he thought, like one who had some private anxiety ofher own. She kept peering up and down the road, as they talked, asthough she, too, were on the watch for some one. She promised James tokeep a lookout for the missing girl. "Poor little thing, " she murmured. There was something in her face as she said that, a slight phase ofamusement, which caused James to stare keenly at her, but it had passed, and her whole face denoted the utmost candor and concern. When James reached home he had a forlorn hope that he should findClemency there; that from a spirit of mischief she had taken some crosstrack over the fields to elude him. But when Aaron met him in the drive, and he saw the man's frightened stare, he knew that she had not come. It was unnecessary to ask, but ask he did. "She has not come?" "No, Doctor Elliot, " replied Aaron. He did not even chew. He tied thehorses, and followed James into the office, with his jaws stiff. Gordonstood up when James entered, and looked past him for Clemency. "She wasnot there?" he almost shouted. "She left the Liptons at two o'clock, and I have stopped at every houseon my way, and no one has seen her. " "Oh, my God!" said Gordon, with a dazed look at James. "What do you think?" asked James. "I don't know what to think. I am utterly at a loss now. I supposed shewas entirely safe. There are almost no tramps at this season, and inbroad daylight. At two, you said? It is almost six. I don't know what todo. What will come next? I must tell Clara something before I doanything else. " Gordon rushed out of the office, and they heard his heavy tread on thestairs. Aaron stared at James, and still he did not chew. "It's almost dark, " he said with a low drawl. "Yes. " "We've got to take lanterns, and hunt along the road and fields. " "Yes, we have. " The dog, which had been asleep, got up, and came over to James, and laidhis white head on his knee. "We can take him, " Aaron said. "Sometimesdogs have more sense than us. " "That is so, " said James. He felt himself in an agony of helplessness. He simply did not know what to do. He had sunk into a chair and his headfairly rung. It seemed to him incredible that the girl had disappeared asecond time. A queer sense of unreality made him feel faint. Gordon reëntered the room. "I have told Clara that you have come back, and that Clemency is to stay all night with Annie Lipton, " he said. Thenhe, too, stood staring helplessly. Emma had come into the room, and nowshe spoke angrily to the three dazed men. "Git the lanterns lit, forgoodness' sake, " said she, "and hunt and do something. I'm goin' to gither supper, and I'll keep her pacified. " Emma gave a jerk with a sharpelbow toward Mrs. Ewing's room. "For goodness' sake, if you don't knowyet where she has went, why don't you do somethin'?" she demanded. Themen went before her sharp command like dust before her broom. "Keep asstill as you can, " ordered Emma as they went out. "_She_ mustn't, git toworryin' before she comes home. " [Illustration: "Saw a little dark figure running toward him. " Page 239. ] For the next two hours Gordon, James, and Aaron searched. They walked, each going his separate way into the fields and woods on the road, having agreed upon a signal when the girl should be found. The signalwas to be a pistol shot. James went first to the wood, where he hadfound Clemency on her former disappearance. He searched in every shadow, throwing the gleam of his lantern into little dark nests of last year'sferns, and hollows where last year's leaves had swirled together to die, but no Clemency. At last, wearied and heart-sick, he came out on theroad. The moon was just up, a full moon, and the road lay stretchedbefore him like a silver ribbon covered with the hoar-frost. He gazeddown it hopelessly, and saw a little dark figure running toward him. Hewas incredulous, but he called, "Clemency!" A glad little cry answered him. He himself ran forward, and the girl wasin his arms, sobbing and trembling as if her heart would break. "What has happened? What has happened, darling?" James cried in anagony. "Are you hurt? What has happened?" "Something very strange has happened, but I am not hurt, " sobbedClemency. James remembered the signal. "Wait a second, dear, " he said;"your uncle and Aaron are searching, and I promised to fire the pistolif I found you. " James fired his pistol in the air six times. Then hereturned to Clemency, who was leaning against a tree. "How I wish we haddriven here!" James said tenderly. "I can walk, if you help me, " Clemency sobbed, leaning against him. "Oh, I am so sorry I acted so this morning. I got punished for it. I haven'tbeen hurt, nobody has been anything but kind to me, but I have beendreadfully frightened. " Gordon and Aaron came running up. "Where have you been, Clemency?"Gordon demanded in a harsh voice. "Another time you must do as you aretold. You are too old to behave like a child, and put us all in such afright. " Clemency left James, and ran to her uncle, and clung to him sobbinghysterically. "Oh, Uncle Tom, don't scold me, " she whimpered. "Are you hurt? What has happened?" "I am not hurt a bit, " sobbed Clemency. Gordon put his arm around her. "Well, " he said, "as long as you are safekeep your story until we get home. Elliot, take her other arm. She isalmost too used up to walk. Now stop crying, Clemency. " When they were home, in the office, Clemency told her story, which was astrange one. She had been on her way home from Annie Lipton's, and hadreached a certain house, when the door opened and a woman stood therecalling her. She described the woman and the house, and James gave astart. "That must be the same woman whom I saw, " he exclaimed. "She was a woman I had never seen, " said Clemency. "I think she had onlylived there a very short time. " Gordon nodded gloomily. "I know who she is, I fear, " he said. "Strangethat I did not suspect. " "She looked very kind and pleasant, " said Clemency, "and I thought shewanted something and there was no harm, but when I reached her the firstthing I knew she had hold of me, and her hands were like iron clamps. She put one over my mouth, and held me with the other, and pulled meinto the house and locked the door. Then she made me go into a littledark room in the middle of the house and she locked me in. She told meif I screamed nobody would hear me, but she did speak kindly. She wasvery kind. Once she even kissed me, although I did not want her to. Shebrought a lamp in, and made me lie down on a couch in the room and drinka glass of wine. She told me not to be afraid, nobody would hurt me. Sheseemed to me to be always listening, and every now and then she wentout, but she always locked the door behind her. When she came back shewould look terribly worried. About half an hour ago she went out, andwhen she came back brought a tray with tea and bread and cold chickenfor me. I told her I would starve before I ate anything while she keptme there. She did not seem to pay much attention, she looked sodreadfully worried. She sat down and looked at me. Finally, she said, asif she were afraid to hear her own voice, 'Has any accident happenednear here lately that you have heard of?' I told her about the man thatfell down in our drive and died of erysipelas. I did not tell heranything else. All at once she almost fell in a faint. Then she stoodup, and she looked as if she were dead. She told me to stay where I wasjust fifteen minutes, then I might go, but I must not stir before. Thenshe kissed me again, and her lips were like ice. She went out, and Iknew the door was not locked, but I was afraid to stir. I could hear herrunning about. Then I heard the outer door slam, and I looked at mywatch, and it was fifteen minutes. Then I ran out and up the road asfast as I could. Just before I saw Doctor Elliot the New York trainpassed. I heard it. I think she was hurrying to catch that. " Gordon nodded. "Oh, Uncle Tom, who was she, and why did she lock me up?" askedClemency. "Clemency, " said Gordon, in a sterner voice than Clemency had ever heardhim use toward her, "never speak, never think, of that woman or that managain. Now go out and eat your dinner. " CHAPTER XII Clemency was so worn out that Doctor Gordon insisted upon her going tobed directly after dinner, and he and James had a solitary evening inthe office, with the exception of Gordon's frequent absence in hiswife's room. Each time when he returned he looked more gloomy. "I haveincreased the morphine almost as much as I dare, " he said, coming intothe office about ten. He sat down and lit his pipe. James laid down theevening paper which he had been reading. "Is she asleep now?" he asked. "Yes. By the way, Elliot, have you guessed who that woman was whokidnapped Clemency?" James hesitated. "I don't fairly know whether I am right, but I haveguessed, " he replied. "Who?" "The nurse. " "You are right. It was the nurse. That man had won her over, and set herup housekeeping in Westover. He had been staying at the hotel therebefore he came here. He was her lover, of course, although he was toocircumspect not to guard the secret. She has been living in that housefor the last three months under the name of Mrs. Wood, a widow. Theformer occupants went away last summer, Aaron has been telling me. Hesaid that once he himself saw the man enter the house, and he had seenthe woman on the street. She had made herself quite popular in Westover. It was no part of that man's policy to keep his vice behind lockeddoors. Locks themselves are the best witness against evil. She attendedthe Dutch Reformed Church regularly. She was present at all the churchsuppers, and everybody has called on her in Westover. Now I think shehas fled, half-crazed with grief over the death of her lover, and afraidof some sort of exposure. Unless I miss my guess, there will be a furoraround here shortly over her disappearance. She was not a bad woman as Iremember her, and she was attractive, with a kindly disposition. But hehad his way always with women, and I suppose she thought she was doinghim a service by kidnapping poor little Clemency. I am sorry for her. Ihope she did not go away penniless, but she has her nursing to fallback upon. She was a good nurse. That makes me think. I must see if Mrs. Blair cannot come here to-morrow. Clara must have somebody besideClemency and Emma. I should prefer a trained nurse, and this woman issimply the self-taught village sort, but Clara prefers her. She shrinksat the very mention of a trained nurse. Of course, it is unreasonable, but the poor soul has always had an awful dread of hospitals and apossible operation, and I believe that in some way she thinks a trainednurse one of a dreadful trinity. She must be humored, of course. Theresult cannot be changed. " "You have no hope, then?" James said in a low voice. "I have had no more from the outset than if she had been already dead, "said Gordon. James said nothing. An enormous pity for the other man was within him. He thought of Clemency, and he seemed to undergo the same pangs. He feltsuch a terrible understanding of the other's suffering that it passedthe bounds of sympathy. It became almost experience. His young face tookon the same expression of dull misery as Gordon's. Presently Gordonglanced at him, and spoke with a ring of gratitude and affection in histired voice. "You are a good fellow, Elliot, " he said, "and you are the one ray ofcomfort I have. I am glad that I have you to leave poor little Clemencywith. " James looked at him with sudden alarm. "You are not ill?" he said. "No, but there is an end to everybody's rope, and sometimes I think I amabout at the end of mine. I don't know. Anyway, it is a comfort to me tothink that Clemency has you in case anything should happen to me. " "She has me as long as I live, " James said fervently. Red overspread hisyoung face, his eyes glistened. Again the great pity and understandingwith regard to the other man came over him, and a feeling for Clemencywhich he had never before had: a feeling greater than love itself, thevery angel of love, divinest pity and protection, for all womanhood, which was exemplified for himself in this one girl. His heart ached, asif it were Clemency's upstairs, lying miserably asleep under theinfluence of the drug, which alone could protect her from indescribablepain. His mind projected itself into the future, and realized thepossibility of such suffering for her, and for himself. The honey-stingof pain, which love has, stung him sharply. Gordon seemed to divine his thoughts. "God grant that you may never haveto undergo what I am undergoing, boy, " he said. Then he added, "It wasin poor Clara's blood, her mother before her died the same way. Clemencycomes, on her mother's side at least, of a healthy race, morally andphysically, although the nervous system is oversensitive. If my poorsister had been happy, she would have been alive to-day. And as far as Iknow of the other side, there was perfect physical health, although hehad that abnormal lack of moral sense that led one to dream ofpossession. Did you notice how much less evil he looked when he wasdead, even with that frightfully disfigured face?" "Yes. " "There are strange things in this world, " said Gordon with gloomyreflection, "or else simple things which we are strange not to believe. Sometimes I think people will have to take to the Bible again in thatliteral sense in which so many are now inclined to disregard it. Well, Elliot, I honestly feel that you have nothing to fear in taking poorlittle Clemency. I should tell you if I thought otherwise. She willmake you happy, and I can think of no reason to warn you concerning anypossible lapses, in either her physical or her moral health, and I havehad her in my charge since she first drew the breath of life. Come, myson, it is late, and we have a great deal to do to-morrow. This awfulbusiness has made me neglect patients. I have to see Clara again, andget what rest I can. " Gordon looked older and wearier than James hadever seen him, as he bade him good-night, old and weary as he had oftenseen him look. A sudden alarm for Gordon himself came over him. Hewondered, after he had entered, his room, if he were not strained pastendurance. He recalled his own father's healthy, ruddy face, and Gordonwas no older. He lay awake a while thinking anxiously of Gordon, then his own happyfuture blazoned itself before him, and he dreamed awake, and dreamedasleep, of himself and Clemency, in that future, whose golden vistas hadno end, so far as his young eyes could see. The sense of relief fromanxiety over the girl was so intense that it was in itself a delight. Clemency herself felt it. The next morning at breakfast she lookedradiant. Gordon had assured her the sick woman had rested quietly, andtold her that Mrs. Blair was coming. "To-day I can go where I choose, " Clemency exclaimed gayly. "Not until afternoon, " replied Gordon, then he relented at her look ofdisappointment, and suggested that she go with Elliot to make his calls, while he went with Aaron and the team. It was a beautiful morning;spring seemed to have arrived. Everywhere was the plash of runningwater, now and then came distant flutings of birds. "I know that was abluebird, " Clemency said happily. "I feel sure mother will get well now. It seems wicked to be glad that the man is dead, especially on such amorning, but I wonder if it is, when he would have spoiled the morning. " "Don't think about it, anyway!" James said. "I try not to. " "You must not!" "I know why Uncle Tom did not want me to go out alone this morning, "Clemency said, with one of her quick wise looks, cocking her head like abird. "Why?" "He wanted to make sure that that woman has really gone. " "Clemency, you must not mention that man or woman to me again, " saidJames. "I am not married to you yet, " Clemency said, pouting. "That makes no difference, you must promise. " "Well, then, I will. I am so happy this morning, that I will promiseanything. " James looked about to be sure nobody was in sight before he kissed thelittle radiant face. "I won't speak of them again, but I am right, " Clemency said with alittle toss and blush, and it proved that she was. At luncheon Doctor Gordon told Clemency that she could go wherever sheliked. She gave a little glance at James, and said gayly, "All right, Uncle Tom. " That afternoon Gordon and James made some calls in company, driving farinto the hills. They had hardly started before Gordon said abruptly, "Well, the woman is gone, and there is a wild excitement in Westoverover her disappearance. I believe they are about to drag the pond. A manwho knew her well by sight declares that she boarded that New Yorktrain, but the people will not give up the theory that she has beenmurdered for her jewelry. By the way, I think I need not worry over herimmediate necessities. It seems that she had worn a quantity of veryvaluable jewels. Of course her going without any baggage except asuit-case, and leaving behind the greater part of her wardrobe, doeslook singular. But it seems that the house was rented furnished, and Ifancy she lived always in light marching orders, and probably carriedthe most valuable of her possessions upon her person and in hersuit-case. Well, I am thankful she has decamped. " "You don't fear her returning?" asked James with some anxiety. "No, I have no fear of that. She is probably broken-hearted over thedeath of that man. She is not of the sort to kidnap on her own account. It was only for him. Clemency has nothing more to fear. " "I am thankful. " "You can well believe that I am, when I tell you that this afternoon Iam absolutely sure, for the first time in years, that the girl is safeto come and go as she pleases. I have had hideous uncertainty as well ashideous certainty to cope with. Now it is down to the hideous certainty. That is bad enough, but fate on an open field is less unmanning thanfate in ambush. I have long known to a nicety the fate in the field. "Gordon hesitated a second, then he said abruptly, with his face turnedfrom his companion, in a rough voice, "Clara can't last many days. " James made an exclamation. "She has gone down hill rapidly during the last two days, " said Gordon. "I have been increasing the morphine. It can't last long. " Gordon endedthe sentence with a hoarse sob. "I can't say anything, " James faltered after a second, "but you know--" "Yes, I know, " Gordon said. "You are as sorry as any one can be who isnot, so to speak, the hero, or rather the coward, of the tragedy. Yes, Iknow. I'm obliged to you, Elliot, but all of us have to face death, whether it is our own or the death of another dearer than ourselves, alone. A soul is a horribly lonely thing in the worst places of life. " "Have you told Clemency?" "No, I have put it off until the last minute. What good can it do? Sheknows that Clara is very ill, but she does not know, she has neverknown, the character of the illness. Sometimes I have a curious feelingthat instinct has asserted itself, and that Clemency, fond as she is ofmy wife, has not exactly the affection which she would have had for herown mother. " "I don't think she knows any difference at all, " James said. "I thinkthe poor little girl will about break her heart. " "I did not mean to underestimate Clemency's affection, " said Gordon, "but what I say is true. The girl herself will never know it, and, youmay not believe it, but she will not suffer as she would suffer if Clarawere her own mother. These ties of the blood are queer things, nothingcan quite take their place. If Clemency had died first Clara would havebeen indignant at the suggestion, but she herself would not have mournedas she would mourn for her own daughter. I must touch up the horses abit. I want to get home. I may not be able to go out again to-night. Last night I was up until dawn with Clara. " Gordon touched the horseswith a slight flicker of the whip. He held the lines taut as they sprangforward. His face was set ahead. James glancing at him had a realizationof the awful loneliness of the other man by his side. He seemed tocomprehend the vastness of the isolation of a grief which concerns one, and one only, more than any other. Gordon had the expression of awanderer upon a desert or a frozen waste. Illimitable distances ofsolitude seemed reflected in his gloomy eyes. James did not attempt to talk to him. It seemed like mockery, thiseffort to approach with sympathy this set-apart man, who wasunapproachable. That night Gordon's wife was much worse. Gordon came down to James'sroom about two o'clock. James had been awake for some time listening tothe sounds of suffering overhead, and he had lit his lamp and dressed, thinking that he might be needed. Gordon stood in the doorway almostreeling. He made an effort before he spoke. "Come into my office, will you?" he said. James at once followed him. Going through the hall the sounds of agonybecame more distinct. When they entered the office Gordon fairly slammedthe door, then he turned to Elliot with a savage expression. "Hearthat, " he said, as if he were accusing the other man. "Hear that, I say!The last hypodermic has not taken effect yet, and her heart is weak. IfI give her more--" He stopped, staring at James, his face worked like a child's. Thensuddenly an almost idiotic expression came over it, the utter numbnessof grief. Then it passed away. Again he looked intelligently into theyoung man's eyes. "If I don't give her more, " he gasped out, "if Idon't, this may last hours. If I do--" The two men stood staring at each other. James thought of Clemency. "HasClemency been in to see her?" he asked. "Yes, she heard, and came in. I sent her out. She is in her own roomnow; Emma is with her. " Suddenly Gordon gave a look of despairing appealat James. "I--wish you would go up and see Clara, " he whispered. James knew what he meant. He hesitated. "Go, and send Mrs. Blair down here, " said Gordon. "Tell her I want tosee her. " "Well, " said James slowly. The two men did not look at each other again. Gordon sank into hischair. James went out of the room and upstairs. He knocked on the doorof the sick-room, and Mrs. Blair, the village nurse, answered his knock. She was a large woman in a voluminous wrapper. Her face had a settledexpression of gravity, almost of sternness. She looked at James. Thescreams from the writhing mass of agony in the bed did not appear to bemoving her, whereas she in reality was herself screwed to such a pitchof mental torture of pity that she was scarcely able to move. She wasrigid. "Doctor Gordon sent me, " whispered James. "He wished me to see her. Heasked me to say to you that he would like to see you for a minute in theoffice. " The woman did not move for a second. Then she whispered close to James'sear, "_It is on the bureau_. " James nodded. They passed each other. James entered the room and closedthe door. A lamp was burning on a table with a screen before it. The bedwas in shadow. The screams never ceased. They were not human. Jamescould not realize that the beautiful woman whom he had known was makingsuch sounds. They sounded like the shrieks of an animal. All the soulseemed gone from them. James approached the bed. There was a roll of dark eyes at him. Then avoice ghastly beyond description, like the snarl of a hungry beast, camefrom between the straight white lips. "More, more! Give me more! Bequick!" James hesitated. "Quick, quick!" demanded the voice. James crossed the room to the dresser. The sick woman now interspersedher screams with the word "quick!" James filled a hypodermic syringe from a glass on the bureau andapproached the bed again. He bared a shuddering arm and inserted theinstrument quickly. "Now try and be quiet, " he said. "You will go tosleep. " Then he went out of the room. The screams had ceased. As Jamesapproached the stair another door opened, and Clemency in a wrapperlooked out. She was very pale, her eyes were distended with fear, andher mouth was trembling. "How is she?" she whispered. "Better, dear. Go back in your room and lie down. We are doing all wecan. " When James entered the office Gordon and Mrs. Blair turned with oneaccord, and fixed horribly searching eyes upon his face. He sat downbeside the table, and mechanically lit a cigar. "How did she seem?" Gordon asked almost inaudibly. "Better. " "Was she quiet?" "Yes. " Gordon gave a long sigh. His face was deadly white. He leaned back inhis chair, and both James and the nurse sprang. They thought he hadfainted. While James felt his pulse Mrs. Blair got some brandy. Gordonswallowed the brandy, and raised his head. "It is nothing, " he said in a harsh voice. "You had better go back toher, Mrs. Blair. " A look of strange dread came over the woman's grave face. "I will be there directly, " said Gordon. Mrs. Blair went out. She left the door ajar. The house was so still thatone could seem to hear the silence. There was something terrible aboutit after the turmoil of sound. Then the silence was broken. A screammore terrible than ever pierced it like a sword. Another came. Gordonsprang up and faced James. The young man's eyes fell before the look offierce questioning in Gordon's. "I could not, " he gasped. "Oh, Doctor Gordon, I could not! Instead ofthat I used water. I thought perhaps her mind being convinced that itwas morphine, she might--" "Mind!" shouted Gordon. "Mind, how much do you suppose the poor, tortured thing has to bring to bear upon this? I tell you she is beingeaten alive. There is no other word for it. Gnawed, and worried, andeaten alive. " Gordon ran out of the room. James closed the door. The dog, who had been asleep beside the fire, started up, came over to James, laid his white head on his knee andwhimpered, with an appealing look in his brown eyes, which were turnedtoward the young man's face. Almost immediately Mrs. Blair entered theroom. She was very pale. "Doctor Gordon sent me down for the brandy, "she said abruptly. She went to the table on which the brandy flaskstood, but she seemed in no hurry to take it. "How is she?" asked James. "I think she is a little quieter. " The nurse stood staring at the firefor a second longer. Then she took the brandy flask and went out with asoft, but jarring, tread. Doctor Gordon must have passed her on the stairs, for he returned almostdirectly after she had left, and stood with his back to James, fussingover some bottles on the shelves opposite the fireplace. He stood therefor some five minutes. James glancing over his shoulder saw that he wastrembling in a strange rigid fashion, but he seemed intent upon thebottles. The house was very still again. Gordon at last seemed to havefinished whatever he was doing with the bottles. He left them and satdown in his chair. The dog left James and went to him, but Gordon pushedhim away roughly. Then Gordon spoke to James without turning his face inhis direction. "I wish you would go upstairs, " he said hoarsely. "Mrs. Blair is alone, and I--I am about done too. " James obeyed without a word. When he reached the head of the stairs hefelt a sudden draught of cold wind. Mrs. Blair came out of thesick-room, closing the door behind her. Her face looked as stern as fateitself. James knew what had happened the moment he saw her. James began to speak stammeringly, but she stopped him. "Call DoctorGordon, " she said shortly. "She is dead. " CHAPTER XIII About two weeks after the death of Doctor Gordon's wife James went tothe post office before beginning his round of calls. Lately nearly allthe practice had devolved upon him. Gordon seemed sunken in a gloomyapathy, from which he could rouse himself only for the most urgentnecessities. Once aroused he was fully himself, but for the most part hesat in his office smoking or seemingly half-asleep. Once in a while avery sick patient acted upon him as a momentary stimulus, but Alton wasunusually healthy just then. After an open and, for the most part, snowless winter, which had occasioned much sickness, the spring broughtfrost and light falls of snow, which seemed to give new life to peoplein spite of unseasonableness. James had had little difficulty inattending to most of the practice, although he was necessarily away fromhome the greater part of the time. However, he often took Clemency withhim, and she would sit well wrapped up in the buggy reading a book whilehe made calls. Then there were the long drives over solitary roads, which, though rough, causing the wheels to jolt heavily in deep ridgesof frozen soil, or sink into the red mud almost to the hubs, as the casemight be, seemed like roads of Paradise to the young man. Although hehimself grieved for Gordon's wife, and Gordon himself filled him withcovert anxiety, yet he was young and the girl was young, and they wereboth released from a miserable sense of insecurity and mystery, whichhad irritated and saddened them; their thoughts now turned toward theirown springtime, as naturally and innocently as flowers bloom. There wasgrief, and the shadow of trouble, but of past trouble; their eyes lookedupon life and love and joy instead of death, as helplessly as a flowerlooks toward the sun. They were happy, although half-ashamed of theirhappiness; but, after all, perhaps, being happy after bereavement andtrouble means simply that the soul has turned to God for consolation. James's face was beaming with his joyful thoughts as he drew up beforethe village store, got out of the buggy, and tied the horse. When heentered he said "good morning!" in a sort of general fashion. There weremany men lounging about. The morning mail had been distributed, andalthough Alton people got very few letters, still there was a wideinterest in the post office, a little boxed-off space in a corner of thestore. The store-keeper, Henry Graves, was the postmaster. He felt theimportance of his position. When he sorted and distributed the mail fromthe limp leather bag, he realized himself as an official of a greatrepublic. He loved to proudly ignore, and not even seem to see, theinterested and gaping faces watching the boxes. Doctor Gordon's box wasan object of especial interest. Indeed, that was the only one to bedepended upon to contain something when the two mails per day arrived. Gordon, moreover, took the only New York paper which reached the littlehamlet. Alton had no paper of its own. The nearest was printed inStanbridge. One man, the Presbyterian minister, subscribed to theStanbridge paper, and paid for it in farm produce. He had a little farm, and tilled the soil when he was not saving souls. The Stanbridge paperhad arrived the night before, and the minister had been good enough toimpart some of its contents to the curious throng in the store. He wasaccustomed to do so. Likewise Gordon, when he was not too hurried, would open his New York paper, and read the most startling "headers" toa wide-eyed audience. This morning the paper was in the box as usual, with a number of letters. The men pressed in a suggestive way aroundJames, as he took the parcel from the postmaster. There were nolock-boxes. James hesitated a moment. He had not much time, but he wasgood-natured, and the eager hunger in the men's eyes appealed to him. There was something pathetic about this outreaching for intelligence oftheir kind, and its progress or otherwise, among these plodding folk, who had so to count their pence that a newspaper was an unheard-ofluxury to them. James opened the paper and glanced over the headlines on the first page. Now, had he looked, he might have seen something sinister and maliciousin the curious eyes, but he was so dazed by the very first thing he sawas to be for the moment oblivious to anything else. On the right of thefirst page was the headline: "Strange dual life of a prominent physicianin Alton, New Jersey. Doctor Thomas B. Gordon has lived with his wifefor years, and called her his widowed sister, Mrs. Clara Ewing. Uponher death, a few days since, he revealed the secret. Will give noreasons for this strange conduct, simply states that he was justified, even compelled, by circumstances. " Then followed a caricature portraitof Gordon, a photograph of the house, one of the village church, and thecemetery and Gordon's wife's grave, with various surmises and comments, enough to fill the column. James paled as he read. He had not known ofGordon's action in telling that the dead woman was his wife. He lookedaround in a bewildered fashion, and met the hungry eyes. One small, meanface of a small man peered around his shoulder gloatingly. "Some newsthis mornin'?" he observed, with a smack of the lips, as if he tastedsweets. Then James arose to the occasion. He faced them all and smiled coolly. "Yes, " he replied; "you mean about Doctor Gordon?" There was a murmur of assent. James read the article from beginning to end. "I suppose it is news toyou, " he said, when he had finished. He looked at them all with asuperior air. He looked older and more manly than when he had first comein their midst. He _was_ older and more manly, and he was superior. Themen recognized it, not sullenly nor defiantly, but with theunquestioning attitude of the New Jerseyman when he is really below thescale in birth and education. Still their faces all expressed maliciouscunning and cruel curiosity, which they hesitated to put into words. They knew that Elliot was to marry Gordon's niece; they were overawed byboth men, but they were afraid of Gordon. Still Jim Goodman found courage of his meanness and smallness and spoke. "It seems a strange thing, " he said, "that Doctor Gordon should hev cameand went here for years, and all of us thinkin' his wife were his sisterwhen she were not. " "Well, what of it?" asked James. The men stared at one another. "What of it?" repeated James. "I don't suppose there is anythingcriminal in a man's calling his wife by his sister's name. Doctor Gordonhas a sister named Ewing. " Again the men stared at one another, and Jim Goodman was the only onewho had the miserable courage to speak. "S'pose him an' her weremarried, " he said, in a thin voice like the squeal of a fox. "Which of you wants to be knocked down can make a statement to thecontrary, " thundered James. "Is that what you make of it?" Goodman shuffled from one foot to the other. Men nudged shoulders, Goodman spoke. "Nobody never knows what is true or ain't true in themnewspapers, " he observed, and there was a note of alarm in his voice. "I did not read a thing in the whole column which even implied such athing as you intimated, " James said hotly. "Don't put it off on thenewspapers!" Then another man spoke, a farmer, tall, dry, lank, and impervious. Hewas a man about whom were ill-reports. His wife had died some yearsbefore, and he had a housekeeper, a florid, blonde creature, dressedwith dingy showiness, of whom people spoke with covert laughs. "All wewant to know is why Doctor Gordon has never said that her was his wife, and not his sister, " he said in a defiant nasal voice. The malignant Jim Goodman saw his chance. He jumped upon it like aspider. "That's so, " he said. "Why didn't he say she was hishousekeeper?" There was a shout of coarse laughter. The farmer gave ahateful look at Goodman and puffed at a rank pipe. James was furious, but he saw the necessity of a statement of some kind, and his wits leaped to action. "Well, " he said, "suppose there was aquestion of money. " The crowd pressed closer and gaped. "Money!" said Goodman. "Yes, money, " pursued James recklessly. "Did you never hear of peoplebeing opposed to marriages, rich people I mean, and threatening todisinherit a woman if she married the man they did not pick out forher?" "Was that it?" asked Goodman. "I am not saying that it was or was not. I am not going to discussDoctor Gordon's secrets with you. It's none of your business, and noneof my business. All I am saying is this, suppose there had been a girlyears ago with a very rich bachelor brother. Suppose the brother hadbeen jilted by a girl, and hated the whole lot of women like poison, andhad no idea of getting married himself, and his sister would be his onlyheiress, and he had set his foot down that she should not marry Doc--theman she had set her heart upon. Suppose he went to--well, the South SeaIslands, for the rest of his life, to get out of sight and sound ofwomen like the one who had jilted him, told his sister before he wentthat if she married the man she wanted he would make a will and leavehis money away from her, build an hospital or a library or something, suppose she hit upon the plan of marrying the man she wanted, andkeeping it quiet. " "Was that it?" "Didn't I tell you that I would not say whether it was or not? I onlysay suppose that was the case. Doctor Gordon has a married sister by thename of Ewing living in foreign parts. You can see for yourself how easyit might have been. " "What about the girl?" asked Goodman in a dry voice. James flushed angrily. "That is nobody's business, " said he. "She isDoctor Gordon's niece. " Goodman was unabashed. "How does it happen her name is Ewing?" he asked. "Couldn't it possibly have happened that two sisters of Doctor Gordon'smarried two brothers?" James cried. He elbowed his way out. When he wasin the buggy driving home, he began to realize how the fairy tale whichhe had related in the store would not in the least impose upon Clemency, how she would almost inevitably hear of the statements in the papers. Hewondered more and more that Gordon should have divulged a secret whichhe had kept so fiercely for so long. When he reached home he went at once into the office, and gave Gordonhis mail and the New York paper. Gordon glanced at it, then at James. "Have you seen this?" he asked. James nodded. "I suppose you think me most inconsistent, " said Gordon gloomily, "butthe truth is I kept the secret while Clara was alive, though I found Icould not, oh, God, I could not after she was dead and gone! I had notrealized what that would mean: to never acknowledge her as my wife, deador alive. I found that when it came to the death certificate, and thenotice in the paper, and the erection of a stone to her memory, that Icould not keep up the deception, no matter what the consequence. My God, Elliot, I cannot commit sacrilege against the dead! Dead, she must haveher due. I anticipated this. There was something last night in the_Stanbridge Record_, and yesterday, while you were out three reportersfrom New York came. I told them that I had done what I had for good andsufficient reasons, which were not dishonorable to myself or to others, and beyond that I would say nothing. I suppose the poor fellows had totax their imaginations to fill their columns. I don't know what theresult will be with regard to Clemency, but I could not help it. " Therewas something painfully appealing in Gordon's look and manner. He seemedso broken that James was alarmed. He said everything that he was able tosay to soothe him, commended the course which he had taken, and told himwhat he had said at the store, without repeating the insinuations whichhad led him to fabricate such a tale. Gordon smiled bitterly. "All yourfellowmen want of you is food for their animal appetites or theirmental, " he said. "They must have meat and drink for their stomachs, aswell as for their curiosity and malice. I have lived here all theseyears, and labored for them for mighty poor recompense, and sometimesfor none at all, and I'll warrant that to-day I am more in their mindsthan I have ever been before, because they have found out my secret, which has been the torture of my life. I wonder if Clemency has heardanything about it. " "I will go and see, " replied James. The minute he saw Clemency, who was in the parlor, he knew that sheknew. By her side on the floor was the _Stanbridge Record_. She lookedat James and pointed to it without a word. Her face was white as death. James took up the paper. That merely announced the fact of Mrs. Gordon'sdeath, dwelt upon her many beautiful qualities of mind and body, hergreat suffering, and stated briefly the astonishment with which the newswas received that she was Doctor Gordon's wife, and not his sister, aspeople had been led to suppose. "Little Annie Codman just brought itover, " said Clemency. "She said her mother sent it. It is just like hermother. Mr. Codman never would have done such a thing. " Mr. Codman was the minister. James, for a second, did not know what to say. He thought of the absurdstory which he had told, or rather suggested, at the store, and realizedthat such a fabrication would not answer here. Immediately Clemency fired a point-blank question at him. "Who am I?"she asked. "You are Doctor Gordon's niece, dear. " "But--she was not my mother. " "No, dear. " "Who am I?" "You are the daughter of Doctor Gordon's youngest sister, who died whenyou were born. " Clemency sat reflecting, her forehead knit, a keen look in her blueeyes. "I knew my father was dead, " she said after a little. "Uncle Tomhas always told me that he passed away three months before I was born, but--" She raised a puzzled, shocked, grieved face to James. "What is myname?" she asked. "My real name?" James hesitated. Then his mind reverted to the tale which he had told atthe store. He could see no other way out of the difficulty. "Did younever hear of two brothers marrying two sisters, dear?" he asked. Clemency gazed at him with a puzzled, almost suspicious, look. "I knew Ihad an aunt and cousin in England named Ewing, " she said, "but I alwayssupposed that my English aunt was not my real aunt, only my aunt bymarriage, that she had married my father's brother. " "Your English aunt is your uncle's own sister, " said James. "I see: my own mother and my aunt were sisters, and they marriedbrothers, " Clemency said slowly. "That is unusual, but not unprecedented, " said James. He had never beeninvolved in such a web of fabrication. He felt his cheeks burning. Hewas sure that he looked guilty, but Clemency did not seem to notice it. She was reflecting, still with that puzzled knitting of her forehead andthat introspective look in her blue eyes. "I wonder if I look in theleast like my own mother?" she said in a curious voice, as of one whofeels her way. "Once your uncle said to me that you were your own mother's very image, "replied James eagerly. He was glad to have the chance to say anythingtruthful. Clemency's face lightened. She spoke with that fatuous innocence andromance of young girls, and often of older women, to whom romance andsentiment are in the place of reason. "Then I know who that man was, "she announced in a delighted voice. "You and Uncle Tom thought I wouldnever know, but I do know. I have found out my own self. " "Who was he, dear?" "Oh, I don't know who he was really, and I don't know who that womanwas. She does mix up things a good deal, but this much I do know--whyUncle Tom passed off my aunt for my mother, and why we were alwayshiding from that man. He was in love with my mother, and he was in lovewith me, because I am so much like her. Now, tell me honest, dear, didn't Uncle Tom ever tell you that that man was in love with my motherbefore I was born?" "Yes, dear, " James answered, fairly bewildered over the fashion in whichtruth was lending itself to the need of falsehood. Clemency nodded her head triumphantly. "There, I told you I knew, " saidshe. "Poor man, it was dreadful of him to pursue me so, and make us allso unhappy, and of course I never could have married him, even if it hadnot been for you. I do think he looked like a wicked man, and of courseI never could have endured the thought of marrying a man who had been inlove with my mother, even if he had been ever so good. But I can't helpbeing sorry for him; he must have loved my mother so much, and he musthave wasted his whole life; and then to die among strangers so suddenly, poor man. " James felt a sort of pleasure at hearing the girl express, allunknowingly, sympathy for her dead father. The tears actually stood inher eyes. "The queerest thing to me is that woman, " she added musingly, after a minute. Then again her face lightened. "Why, I do believe shewas his sister, " she cried, "and that was the reason she wanted to getme, and the reason why she was so dreadfully upset when she heard he wasdead, poor thing. Well, of course, I can't help feeling glad that I amnot in danger any more; but I am sorry for that poor man, even if hewasn't good. " A tear rolled visibly down Clemency's cheeks. Then she gotout her handkerchief and sobbed violently. "Oh, I haven't realized, " shemoaned, "I haven't realized until this minute, how terrible it is thatshe wasn't my mother. " "She was as good as a mother to you, dear. " "Yes, I know, but she wasn't, and it hurts me worse now she is gone thanit would have done when she was alive. I don't seem to have anything. " "You have me. " Then Clemency ran to him, and he held her on his knee and comforted her, then tore himself away to make his morning round of calls. Clemencyfollowed him to the door, and kissed her hand to him as he drove away. James had good reason to remember it, for it was the last lovingsalutation from her for many a day. When he returned at noon the girl's manner was unaccountably changedtoward him. She only spoke to him directly when addressed, and then inmonosyllables. She never looked at him. She sat at the table at luncheonand poured the chocolate, and there was almost absolute silence. Emmawaited jerkily as usual. James fancied once, when he met her eyes, thatthere was an expression of covert triumph on her face. Emma had neverliked him. He had been conscious of the fact, but it had not disturbedhim. He had no more thought of this middle-aged, harsh-featured NewJersey farmer's daughter than he had of one of the dining-chairs. Gordonsat humped upon himself, as he sat nowadays, a marked stoop of age wasbecoming visible in his broad shoulders, and he ate perfunctorilywithout a word. James, after a number of futile attempts to talk toClemency, subsided himself into bewildered silence, and ate with verylittle appetite. There were chops and potatoes and peas, and apple-pie, for luncheon. When it came to the pie Emma served Clemency and DoctorGordon, and deliberately omitted James. Nobody seemed to notice it, although James felt sure that the omission was intentional. He felthimself inwardly amused at the antagonism which could take such a form, and went without his pie uncomplainingly, while Gordon and Clemency atetheirs. The dog at this juncture came slinking into the room and closeto James, who gave him a lump of sugar from the bowl which happened tostand near him. At once Emma took the bowl and moved it to another partof the table out of his reach. James felt a strong inclination to laugh. The dog sat up and begged for more sugar, and James, when they all leftthe table, coolly took a handful of sugar from the bowl and carried itinto the office, the dog leaping at his side. Emma slammed thedining-room door behind him. Clemency, without a look at him, immediately ran upstairs to her own room. Gordon and James sat down inthe office as usual for a smoke until James should start upon hisafternoon rounds. Gordon asked him a few questions about the patientswhom he had seen that morning, but in a listless, abstracted fashion, then he spoke of those whom James would see that afternoon. "You hadbetter take the team, " he said. "Clemency is going with me, " James said. Gordon looked at him with faint surprise. "I think you must bemistaken, " he said. "Clemency came to me just before luncheon and askedif I had any objections to her spending a few days with Annie Lipton. Itold her we could get on perfectly well without her, and Aaron is goingto drive her over. She will have to take a suit-case. I knew you had togo in another direction, and could not take her. I thought the changewould do her good. Didn't she say anything to you about it?" "I think it will do her good. She needs a little change, " James repliedevasively. As he spoke Aaron came out of the stable leading the bay mareharnessed to a buggy. "She is going right away, " said Gordon, looking a little puzzled. He hadhardly finished speaking before Clemency's voice was heard in the hall. It rang rather hard, but quite clearly. "Good-by, " she called out. "Good-by, " responded Gordon and James together. Gordon looked at James, astonished that he did not go out to assist Clemency into the buggy, andbid her good-by. He seemed about to question him, then he took anotherpuff at his pipe, and his face settled into its wonted expression ofgloomy retrospection. Boy's and girl's love affairs seemed as motes in abeam of sunlight to him at this juncture. James started to go, the horses were stamping uneasily in the drive, andhe had a long round of calls to make that afternoon. Gordon removed his pipe. "I am putting a good deal on you, Elliot, " hesaid with a kind of hard sadness. "That's all right, " James replied cheerfully, "I am strong. I can standit if the patients can. I fancied old Mrs. Steen was rather disgusted tosee me this morning. I heard her say something about sendin' a boy toher daughter, and when I went into the bedroom, she glared at me, andsaid, 'You?'" James laughed. "Her case is not at all desperate, " Gordon said gloomily. "She is merelyon the downward road of life. Nothing ails her except that. You cansupply the few inadequate crutches of tonics as well as any one. Thereis not one desperately sick patient on the whole list now, that I knowof, although I must confess that that Willoughby girl rather puzzles me. She breaks every diagnosis all to pieces. " "Hysteria, " said James. "Oh, yes, I know hysteria is a good way to account for our own lack ofinsight, " said Gordon, "and it may be that girls are queer subjects. Sometimes I wonder if they know what they know. Lilian Willoughby doesnot. " Gordon, to James's intense surprise, flared into a burst of anger. "Yes, she does know, " he declared. "Down in her inner consciousness I believeshe does, poor little overstrung, oversensitive girl, half-fed, as toher body, on coarse food which she cannot assimilate, starvedemotionally. If a girl like that has to exist anyway, why cannot she beborn under different circumstances? That girl as daughter of a NewJersey farmer is an anomaly. If she mates at all it must be with anotherNew Jersey farmer, then she dies after bringing a few degenerates intothe world. Providence does things like that, and the doctors aresupposed to right things. That girl has had symptoms of about everyknown disease, and my diagnosis has failed to prove the existence of oneof them. Yet there are the symptoms. Call it hysteria, or what you will. I call it an injustice on the part of the Higher Power. I suppose thatis blasphemy, but I am forced to it. Can that girl help the longingsfor her rights, her longings which are abnormally acute because of herover-fine nervous system? Those longings, situated as she is, can neverbe satisfied in any way except for her own harm. Meantime she eats herown heart, since she has nothing else, and heart-eating produces allkinds of symptoms. I am absolutely powerless in such a case, thoughsometimes I make a diagnosis which I think may be correct, sometimes Ithink there is some organic trouble which I can mitigate. But always Ifall back upon the miserable truth which I am convinced underlies herwhole existence. She is a creature born into a life which does not andnever will afford her the proper food for her physical and spiritualneeds. Oh, the horror in this world, and what am I to set myself toright it? Shut the door. " "The horses are uneasy, " James said. "Never mind, shut the door. Clemency is away, and Emma out in thekitchen. I must speak to somebody, or I shall go mad. " James shut the door and turned to Gordon, who sat rigid in his chair, his hands clutching the arms. "Do you think I did right?" he groaned. "You know what I did. Was it right?" "If you mean about your wife, " James said, "I think you did entirelyright. " "But you could not, " Gordon returned bitterly. "It was too much for youto attempt, and yet she was nothing to you as she was to me, and the sinwould not have been so terrible. " "I had not the courage, " James replied simply. "You did not think it right. You did not wish to burden your soul withsuch a responsibility. I was wrong to try to shift it upon you, wrongand cowardly, but she was bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh; it wasa double crime for me, murder and suicide. It was not because you hadnot the courage: you have faced surgical operations and dissecting. Youdared not commit what you were not sure was not a crime. There is no usein your hedging, Elliot. I know the truth. " "Still I think you did right, " James said stubbornly. "She had to dieanyway. Death was upon her. You simply hastened it. " Gordon looked at James, and his eyes seemed to fairly blaze with somberfire; for a moment the young man thought his reason was unhinged. "Butwhat am I? Who is any man to take whip or spur to the decrees of theAlmighty, to hasten them?" "She was suffering--" James began. "What of that? Who can say, though she had led the life of a saint onearth, so far as any one could see, what subtle sins of life itself herpains were counteracting? Who can tell but I have deprived her of untoldjoys which would have compensated a thousand times for those pains byshortening them?" "Doctor Gordon, you are morbid, " James said, looking at him uneasily. "How do you know I am morbid? Then that other--Mendon. Who is to saythat I was right even about that? It is probable I saved your life, andpossibly my own, as well as Clemency from misery. But who can say thatdeath would not have been better for both you and me than life, and evenmisery for Clemency had that man lived? God had allowed him life uponthe earth. I may have shortened that life. He was a monster ofwickedness, but who can say that he was not a weapon of God, and that Ihave not done incalculable mischief by depriving him of that weapon?There is only one consolation which I have with regard to him; unless mydiagnosis was entirely at fault, he would have had that attack oferysipelas anyway. I hardly think I deceive myself with regard to that, and there is a very probable chance that the attack would have beenfatal. He had nearly lost his life twice before with the same disease. That I know, and I do not think that unless the poison was already inhis blood, it would have developed so rapidly from that slight bruise. So far as the simple wound from the dog went, he was in no dangerwhatever. I have that consolation in his case, in not being absolutelycertain that I caused his death; I am not even absolutely sure that Ihastened it by any appreciable time. He might have been attacked thatvery night with the disease. Still there is, and always will be, theslight doubt. " "I don't think you ought to brood over that, Doctor Gordon, " James saidsoothingly. He went close to the older man and laid a hand upon hisshoulder. Gordon looked up at him, and his face was convulsed. He spokewith solemn and tragic emphasis. "It is not for mortal man to interferewith the ways of God, and he does so at his own peril, " he said. CHAPTER XIV The confidence which Gordon had reposed in James seemed for a time tohave given him a measure of relief. While he never for an instantappeared like his old self, while the games of euchre at Georgie K. 'swere not resumed, nor the boyish enjoyment of things, which James nowrecognized to have been simply feverish attempts to live through thehorrible ordeal of his life and keep his sanity, while he had nowsettled down into a state of austere gloom, yet he begun again to attendto his practice and to take interest in it. Clemency remained away for aweek. Then Gordon brought her home. She was at the dinner-table thatnight when James returned rather late from a call on a far-off patient. She simply said, "Good evening! Doctor Elliot, " as if he had been themerest acquaintance, and went on to serve his soup. James gave her abewildered, half-grieved, half-angered look, which she seemed not tonotice. Immediately after dinner she went to her own room. James, smoking with Gordon in the office, heard her go upstairs. Gordon noddedat James through the cloud of smoke. "She has taken a notion, my son, " he said. "She told me on the way homethat she wished to break the engagement with you. She would give noreason. She wished me to tell you. I don't take her seriously. She caresas much for you as ever. Girls are queer cattle. She has some utterlyunimaginable idea in her head, which will run itself out. If I were youI would pay no attention to it. Simply take her at her word, and let heralone for a little while, and she herself will urge you for areconciliation. I know the child. She simply cannot remain at odds forany length of time with any one whom she loves, and she does love you;but she is freakish, and at times inclined to strain at her bit. PerhapsAnnie Lipton has been putting ideas into her head against marriage ingeneral. She may have frightened her, and they may have sworn celibacytogether in the watches of the night. Girls hatch more mischief whenthey ought to be asleep. They are queer cattle. " "The trouble began before Clemency went away, " James said soberly. Hewas quite pale. "Trouble? What trouble?" "I don't know. All I know is, that the very day when Clemency went awayshe seemed changed to me. You remember how she called out good-by, and Idid not go out to help her off as I should naturally have done. " "Yes, I do remember that, and I did wonder at your not going. " "I did not go because I was quite sure that she did not wish it. She hadbeen very curt with me, and had shown me unmistakably that my attentionswere not welcome. " "And you don't know why? There had been no quarrel?" "Not the slightest. I have not the faintest idea what the trouble is orwas, and why she wishes to break the engagement. All I know is that assuddenly as a weather vane turns from west to north, she turned, andseemed to have no more use for me. " "Queer, " Gordon said reflectively. He eyed James keenly. "You absolutelyknow of no reason?" "I absolutely know of none. Clemency is the very first girl about whom Ihave ever thought in this way. There is nothing in my whole life, pastor present, which I could not spread before her like an open book, sofar as any fear lest it should turn her against me. " "I questioned her, " Gordon said, "and she absolutely refused to give meany reason for breaking her engagement. She simply repeated over andover, 'I have changed my mind, Uncle Tom. ' I asked her if she had seenanybody else. " James flushed hotly. "What did she say to that?" "She said, 'Whom could I have seen, Uncle Tom? You yourself know howmany men I have seen here, and you know I never see men at Annie's. 'There is no one else. You may be sure of that, and also sure that shestill cares for you. I know that from her whole manner. She has simplytaken one of those unaccountable freaks which the best of girls willtake. Just let her alone, and the whole will right itself. She may havegot a sudden scare at the idea of marriage itself, for all I know. Istill cling to the idea that Annie Lipton has been putting ideas intoher head, in spite of what you say of her coldness before she wentthere. She may have started herself in the path, but Annie helped herfurther on. " "Of course I must leave here, " James said gloomily. Gordon started. "Leave here?" "Yes, of course. Clemency will naturally not wish to have me a member ofthe household in the existing state of things. " "Clemency will wish it. Of course you are going to stay, Elliot. " "I don't feel as if I could, Doctor Gordon. " "Nonsense!" "It will naturally not be very pleasant for me, " James said, coloring. "Why not?" asked Gordon irritably. "You are not a love-sick girl. " "No, I am not, " James returned with spirit. "I know I am jilted, but Imean to take, and I think I am taking it, like a man. If Clemency doesnot want me, I am sure I do not want her to have me. And I can standseeing her daily under the altered condition of things. I am nomilk-sop. Generally speaking, living under a roof when you are an objectof aversion to a member of the household, is not exactly pleasant. " "You are not an object of aversion. " "I might as well be. " Gordon looked at the young man pitifully. "For God's sake, then don'tleave _me_, Elliot, " he said. James stared at him. There was so much emotion in his face. "What do you think my life would be without you?" said Gordon. "Asidefrom your assistance, which I cannot do without, you are my only solace, especially since Clemency is in this mood. Stay for my sake, if it isunpleasant, Elliot. " "Well, I will stay, if you feel so about it, doctor, " James replied. "Clemency is treating you shamefully, " Gordon said. "A girl has a right to her own mind in such a matter, if she has inanything. " "The worst of it is, it is not her mind. I tell you I know that. " "I am not so sure. " "Wait and see! You underestimate yourself, boy. " James laughed sadly. Then there was a knock on the office door andGeorgie K. Appeared. He looked shyly at Gordon. He had a bottle underhis arm. "I have brought over a little apple-jack; thought it might doyou good, " he stammered, his great face suffused like a girl's. Gordon looked affectionately at him. "Thank you, Georgie K. , " he said. "Sit down and we will have a game. I'll get the hot water and glasses. Emma is out. " "I'll get them, " James said eagerly. He went out to the kitchen, butEmma was not out. She was sitting sewing in a gingham apron. "What do you want?" she demanded severely. James explained meekly. "Well, go back to the office, and I'll fetch the things, " Emma said in ahostile tone. James obeyed. Presently Emma appeared bearing a tray withthe hot water and two glasses, Gordon did not notice the omission of athird glass, until she had gone out. "Why, she only brought twoglasses, " he said. James felt absurdly unequal to facing Emma again. "I don't think I'lltake anything to-night, " he said. "Nonsense!" returned Gordon. He went to the door and shouted for Emmawith no response. "She can't have gone upstairs so quickly, " he said. But when after another shout he got no response, he went himself intothe dining-room, and got a tumbler from the sideboard. "She must havegone upstairs at once, " he remarked when he returned. "The kitchen isdark. " Georgie K. Did not remain very late. He seemed nervously solicitouswith regard to Doctor Gordon. When he left he shook hands with him, andbade him take good care of himself. "I love that man, " Gordon said, when the door had closed behind him. When James entered his room that night he found fresh proof of Emma'sinexplicable hostility. The room was in total darkness. He lit matchesand searched for lamp or candles, to find none. He fumbled his way outinto the kitchen, and got a little lamp, which gave but a dim light, andread, as was his habit, after he had gone to bed, with exceedingdifficulty. He also was subjected to a most absurd annoyance from thepresence of some gritty particles in the bed. After he extinguished hislamp he could not go to sleep because of them, and lit his lamp again, and tore the sheet off and shook it. The gritty particles seemed to himto be crumbs of very hard and dry bread. He made the bed up again afterhis clumsy masculine fashion. James had not much manual dexterity, andrested very uncomfortably, from a pronounced inclination of thecoverings to slide off his feet, and over one side of the bed. The next morning Emma did not bring hot water for his shaving. Sheusually set a pitcher outside his door, but this morning there was none. He was obliged to go out to the kitchen and prefer a request for some. "I have jest filled up the coffee-pot and the tea-kettle, and I guessthe water ain't very hot, " Emma said in a malicious tone, as she filleda pitcher for him. The water was not very hot. James had a severe experience shaving, andhis annoyances were not over then. There was no napkin beside his plateat breakfast. He did not like to apply to Clemency, whose cold goodmorning had served to establish a higher barrier between them, and whosat behind the coffee urn with a forlorn but none the less severe look. He also did not like to apply to Gordon for fear of offending her. Itwas about as bad to ask Emma, but he finally did, in a low tone. Emma apparently did not hear. He was forced to repeat his request for anapkin loudly. Gordon looked up. "Emma, why do you not set the tableproperly?" he asked, in a severe tone. Emma tossed her head and muttered. She brought a napkin, and laid itbeside James's plate with an impetus as if it had been a lump of lead. Presently James discovered that he had only one spoon, but he made thatdo duty for his cereal and coffee, and said nothing. He was aware ofEmma's eyes of covert, malicious enjoyment upon him, as hesurreptitiously licked off the oatmeal, and put the spoon in his coffee. He began to wonder what he could do, if this state of things was tocontinue. It all seemed so absurd, the grievances were so exceedinglypetty. He could not imagine what had so turned Emma against him. He waseven more at a loss where she was concerned than in Clemency's case. Agirl engaged might find some foolish reason, which seemed enormous toher, to turn the cold shoulder to him, but it was inconceivable thatEmma should. He had always treated her politely, even with a certaindeference, knowing, as he did, that she was an old and faithful servant, and as the daughter of a farmer being, in her own estimation at least, of a highly superior station to that of servants in general. He couldnot imagine why Emma was subjecting him to these ridiculouspersecutions, before which he was almost helpless. She had heretoforetreated him loftily, as was her wont with everybody, except Gordon andClemency, but certainly she had neglected none of her duties withregard to him. Miserable as James was concerning Clemency, he could notbut feel that if he were to be subjected to these incomprehensibleannoyances from Emma, life in the house would be almost impossible. Hecould bear sorrow like a man, but to bear pinpricks beside was almosttoo much to ask. That noon, when he returned from his rounds, herealized that there was to be no cessation. Clemency was not at thelunch-table. Gordon said she had a headache and was lying down. Emma inpassing James his cup of tea, contrived to spill it over him. He was notscalded, but his shirt-front and collar were stained, therebynecessitating a change, and he was in a hurry to be gone directly afterlunch. Gordon roused himself, however. "Be more careful another time, Emma, " hesaid sharply. Emma tossed her head. "Doctor Elliot moved jest as I was coming with thecup, " she said in a thin, waspish voice. "He did no such thing, " Gordon said harshly, "and if he had, it was yourbusiness to be careful. Get Doctor Elliot another cup of tea. " Emma obeyed with a jerk. She set the cup and saucer down beside James'splate as hard as she dared, and James at the first sip found that thetea was salted. However, he said nothing. Gordon after his outburst hadresumed his former state of apathy, and was eating and drinking like amachine, whose works were rusty and almost run down. He could nottrouble him with such an absurdity. Then, too, he was too vexed toplease the girl so much. He forced himself to drink the tea without agrimace, knowing that Emma's eyes were upon him. But the climax wasalmost reached. That night when on his return he wished to change hiscollar before dinner, he found every one with the buttonholes torn. Itwas skilfully done, so skilfully that no one could have declaredpositively that it had not been done accidentally in the laundry. Jameswould not appear at the dinner-table in a soiled collar, and was forcedto hurry out to the village store and purchase new ones. These, with theexception of the one he put on, he locked in his trunk. He was late fordinner, and the soup was quite cold. When Doctor Gordon complainedirritably, Emma replied with one of her characteristic tosses of thehead that she couldn't help it, Doctor Elliot was late. James saidnothing. He swallowed his luke-warm soup in silence. He began to wonderwhat he could do. He did not wish to complain to Doctor Gordon, especially as the result might be the dismissal of Emma, and he feltthat he could say nothing to Clemency about it. Clemency appeared at thedinner-table, but she looked pale and forlorn, and said good evening toJames without lifting her eyes. When her uncle asked if her head wasbetter, she said, "Yes, thank you, " in a spiritless tone. She ate almostnothing. After dinner, James had a call to make, and, on his return, entered by the office door. He found Gordon fast asleep in his chair, with the dog at his feet. The dog started up at sight of James, but hemotioned him down, and went softly out into the hall. There was a lightthere, but none in the parlor. James heard distinctly a little sob fromthe parlor. He hesitated a moment, then he entered the room. It wassuffused with moonlight. All the pale objects stood out like ghosts. Clemency by the window, in a little white wool house-gown, looked, ghostly. James went straight across to her, pulled up a chair beside her, seatedhimself, and pulled one of her little hands away from her face almostroughly, and held it firmly in spite of her weak attempt to remove it. "Now, Clemency, " he said in a determined voice, "this has gone quite farenough. You told your uncle that you wished to break your engagement tome. I have no wish to coerce you. If you really do not want to marry me, why, I must make the best of it, but I have a right to know the reasonwhy, and I will know it. " Clemency was silent, except for her sobs. "Tell me, " said James. "Don't, " whispered Clemency. "Tell me. " Then Clemency let her other hand, which contained a moist little ball ofhandkerchief, fall. She turned full upon him her tearful, swollen face. "If you want to know what you know already, " said she, in a hard voice, "here it is. She wasn't my mother, but I loved her like one, and youkilled her. " CHAPTER XV James sat as if turned to stone. All in a second he realized what itmust be. He let Clemency's hand go, and leaned back in his chair. "Whatdo you mean, Clemency?" he asked finally, but he realized how senselessthe question was. He knew perfectly well what she meant, and he knewperfectly well that he was utterly helpless before her accusation. "You know, " said Clemency, still in her unnatural hard voice. "Youkilled her. " "How?" "You know. You gave her more morphine, and her heart was weak. Emmaoverheard Uncle Tom say so, and that more morphine was dangerous. Shemight have been alive to-day if it had not been for you. " James sat staring at the girl. She went on pitilessly. "You did not seeEmma that last time you came upstairs, " she said, "but she saw you. Shewas standing in the door of her room, and she had no light. She saw youand Mrs. Blair going away from her room, and she heard Mrs. Blair tellyou she was dead. You killed her. I want nothing whatever to do with amurderer. " James remembered that draught of cold air. It must have come from theopen door of Emma's room at the end of the hall. He understood that Emmacould not have seen him coming upstairs, but that she had seen him withMrs. Blair at the door of the sick-room, and had jumped at herconclusion. "Emma knew when you went upstairs first, " said Clemency. "You left herdoor a little ajar. Emma saw you giving her a hypodermic. And then whenthat did not kill her you gave her another. Uncle Tom did not know. Hemust never know, for it would kill him, but you did kill her. " James was silent for a moment. He realized the impossibility of clearinghimself from the accusation unless he told the whole truth andimplicated Doctor Gordon. Finally he said, miserably enough, "You don'tknow how horribly she was suffering, dear. You don't know what tormentsshe would have had to suffer. " He knew when he said that that he incriminated himself. Clemencyretorted immediately, "You don't know. I have heard Uncle Tom say thatnobody can ever know. She might have gotten well. Anyway, you killedher. " With that Clemency sprang up and ran out of the room, and Jamesheard her sob. As for himself, he remained where he was for a long time. He never knewhow long. He felt numb. He realized himself to be in a gulf ofmisunderstanding, from which he could not be extricated, even for thesake of Clemency. It seemed to him again that he must go away, but heremembered Gordon's pitiful plea to him to remain. Finally he went intohis room, to find that Emma, in her absurd malice, had left only thecoverlid on the bed. She had stripped it of the sheets and blankets. Helay down with his clothes on and passed a sleepless night. The next morning at the breakfast-table he looked haggard and pale. Hecould eat nothing. Doctor Gordon looked at him keenly. "What is the matter, Elliot?" he asked. Clemency gave a quick glance at him, and her face worked. "Nothing, " replied James. "You look downright ill. " "I am not ill. " Clemency rose abruptly and left the table. "What is the matter, Clemency? Where are you going?" Gordon called out. "I have finished my breakfast, " the girl replied in a stifled voice. Gordon insisted on making some calls that morning, and relieving James. "You are worn out, my son, " he said in a voice of real affection, andclapped him on the shoulder. He sent James on a short round in spite ofhis objections, and the consequence was that James reached home half anhour before luncheon. It was a beautiful morning. Spring seemed to have come with a wingedleap. A faint down of green shaded the elms, and there was a pink cloudof peach bloom in the distance. The cherry trees were swollen almost toblossom, and the apple trees had pale radiances in the glance of thesun. The grass was quite green, and here and there were dandelions. Clemency was out in the yard, working in a little flower-garden, asJames drove in. She had on a black dress, and her fair head wasuncovered. She pretended not to see James, but he had hardly entered theoffice before she came in. Her face was all suffused with pink. Shelooked at him tenderly and angrily. "Are you ill?" she said, in an indignant voice which had, in spite ofherself, soft cadences. "No, Clemency. " "Then why do you look so?" she demanded. James turned at that. "Clemency, you accuse me of cruelty, " he said, "but you yourself are cruel. You do not realize that you cannot tell aman he is a murderer, and throw him over when he loves you, and yet havehim utterly unmoved by it. " Suddenly Clemency was in his arms. "I love you, I love you, " she sobbed. "Don't be unhappy, don't look so. It breaks my heart. I love you, I dolove you, dear. I can't marry you, but I love you!" "If you love me, you can marry me. " Clemency shrank away, then she clung to him again. "No, " she said, "Ican't get over the thought of it. I can't help it, but I do love you. Wewill go on just the same as ever, only we will not get married. You knowwe were not going to get married just yet anyway. I love you. We will goon just the same. Only don't look the way you did this morning atbreakfast. " "How did I look?" "As if your heart were broken. " "So it is, dear. " "No, it is not. I love you, I tell you. What is the need of botheringabout marriage anyway? I am perfectly happy being engaged. Annie saysshe is never going to get married. Let the marriage alone. Only youwon't look so any more, will you, dear?" CHAPTER XVI After this James encountered a strange state of things: the semblance ofhappiness, which almost deceived him as to its reality. Clemency was as loving as she had ever been. Gordon congratulated Jamesupon the reconciliation. "I knew the child could never hold out, and itwas Annie Lipton, " he said. James admitted that Annie Lipton might havebeen the straw which turned the balance. He knew that Clemency had nottold Gordon of her conviction that he had given the final dose ofmorphine to her aunt. Everything now went on as before. Clemencysuddenly became awake to Emma's petty persecutions of James, and theyceased. James one day could not help overhearing a conversation betweenthe two. He was in the stable, and the kitchen windows were open. Heheard only a few words. "You don't mean to say you are goin' to hevhim?" said Emma in her strident voice. "No, I am not, " returned Clemency's sweet, decided one. "What be you goin' with him again for then?" James knew how the girl blushed at that, but she answered with spirit. "That is entirely my own affair, Emma, " she said, "and as long as DoctorElliot remains under this roof, and pays for it, too, he must be treateddecently. You don't pass him things, you don't fill his lamp. Now youmust treat him exactly as you did before, or I shall tell Uncle Tom. " "You won't tell him why?" said Emma, and there was alarm in her voice, for she adored Gordon. "Did you ever know me to go from one to another in such a way?" askedClemency. "You know if I told Uncle Tom, he would not put up with it aminute. He thinks the world of Doctor Elliot. " "It's awful queer how men folks can be imposed on, " said Emma. "That has nothing to do with it, " Clemency said. "You must treat DoctorElliot respectfully, Emma. " "I'm jest as good as he be, " said Emma resentfully. "Well, what if you are? He's as good as you, isn't he? And he treats youcivilly. He always has. " "I'm a good deal better than he be, " Emma went on irascibly. "I wouldn'thave gone and went, and--" "Hush!" ordered Clemency in a frightened voice. "Emma, you must do as Isay. " James drove out of the yard and heard no more, but after that he had nofault to find with Emma, so far as her service was concerned. It is truethat she gave him malignant glances, but she made him comfortable, albeit unwillingly. It was fortunate for him that she did so, or hewould have found his position almost unbearable. Doctor Gordon relaxedagain into his state of apathetic gloom. His strength also seemed towane. Almost the whole practice devolved upon James. Gordon seemed lessand less interested even in extreme cases. Georgie K. Also lost hispower over him. Now and then of an evening he came, but Gordon, save tooffer him a cigar, took scarcely any notice of him. One evening GeorgieK. Made a motion to James behind Gordon's back when he took leave, andJames made an excuse to follow him out. In the drive Georgie K. TookJames by the arm, and the young man felt him tremble. "What ails him?"asked Georgie K. "I hardly know, " James replied in a whisper. "I know, " said Georgie K. By the light from the office window Jamescould see that the man was actually weeping. His great ruddy face wasstreaming with tears. "Don't I know?" he sobbed. James remembered the stuffed canary and the wax flowers, and the storyGordon had told him of Georgie K. 's grief over his wife's death. "I dare say you are right, " he returned. "He's breakin' his heart, that's what he's doin', " said Georgie K. "Can't you get him to go away for a change or somethin'?" "I have tried. " "He'll die of it, " Georgie K. Said with a great gulp as he went out ofthe yard. When James reëntered the office Gordon looked up at him. "That poor oldfellow called you out to talk about me, " he said quietly. "I know I'mgoing downhill. " "For heaven's sake, can't you go up, doctor?" "No, I am done for. I could get over losing her, but I can't get overwhat--you know what. " "But her death was inevitable, and greater agony was inevitable. " Gordon turned upon him fiercely. "When you have been as long in thiscursed profession as I have, " he said, "you will realize that nothing isinevitable. She might have recovered for all I know. That woman, atTurner Hill, who I thought was dying six months ago, being up and aroundagain, is an instance. I tell you mortal man has no right to thrust hishand between the Almighty and fate. You know nothing, and I knownothing. " "I do know. " "You don't know, and you don't even know that you don't know. There isno use talking about this any longer. When I am gone you must marryClemency, and keep on with my practice. " James considered when he was in his own room that the event of hissucceeding to the practice might not be so very remote, but as to hismarrying Clemency he doubted. He dared not hint of the matter to Gordon, for he knew it would disturb him, but Clemency, as the days went on, became more and more variable. At times she was loving, at times it wasquite evident that she shrank from him with a sort of involuntaryhorror. James began to wonder if they ever could marry. He was fullyresolved not to clear himself at the expense of Doctor Gordon; in fact, such a course never occurred to him. He had a very simplestraightforwardness in matters of honor, and this seemed to him a matterof honor. No question with regard to it arose in his mind. Obviously itwas better that he should bear the brunt than Gordon, but he did askhimself if it would ever be possible for Clemency to dissociate him fromthe thought of the tragedy entirely, and if she could not, would it bepossible for her to be happy as his wife? That very day Clemency hadavoided him, and once when he had approached she had visibly shrunk andpaled. Evidently the child could not help it. She looked miserablyunhappy. She had grown thin lately, and had lost almost entirely hersense of fun, which had always been so ready. James went to sleep, wondering how she would treat him the next day. Henever knew, for the girl shifted like a weather-cock, driven hither andyon by her love and terror like two winds. The next day, however, solvedthe problem in an entirely unexpected fashion. James, that morning afterbreakfast, during which Clemency had sat pale and stern behind thecoffee-urn, and scarcely had noticed him, set off on a round of calls. Doctor Gordon, to his surprise, announced his intention of making somecalls himself; he said that he would take the team, and James must drivethe balky mare, as the bay was to be taken to the blacksmith's. Gordonthat morning looked worse than usual, although he evinced such unwontedenergy. He trembled like a very old man. He ate scarcely anything, andhis mouth was set hard with a desperate expression. James wished to urgehim to remain at home, but he did not dare. Gordon, when he left thebreakfast-table, proposed that James should take Clemency with him, butthe girl replied curtly that she was too busy. Gordon started on hislong circuit, and James set off to make the rounds of Alton andWestover. The mare seemed in a very favorable mood that morning. She didnot balk, and went at a good pace. It was not until James was on hishomeward road that the trouble began. Then the mare planted her fourfeet at angles, in her favorite fashion, and became as immovable as ahorse of bronze. James touched her with the whip. He was in no patientmood that morning. Finally he lashed her. He might as well have lashed astone, for all the effect his blows had. Then he got out and triedcoaxing. She did not seem to even see him. Her great eyes had a curiousintrospective expression. Then he got again into the buggy and satstill. A sense of obstinacy as great as the animal's came over him. "Stand there and be d----d!" he said. "Go without your dinner if you want to. " He leaned back in a corner ofthe buggy, and began reflecting. His reflections were at once angry and gloomy. He was, he told himself, tired of the situation. He began to wonder if he ought not, for the sakeof self-respect, to leave Alton and Clemency. He wondered if a man oughtto submit to be so treated, and yet he recognized Clemency's own view ofthe situation, and a great wave of love and pity for the poor childswept over him. The mare had halted in a part of the road where therewere no houses, and flowering alders filled the air with their faintsweetness. Under that sweetness, like the bass in a harmony, he couldsmell the pines in the woods on either hand. He also heard their voices, like the waves of the sea. It was a very warm day, one of those days inwhich Spring makes leaps toward Summer. James felt uncomfortably heated, for the buggy was in the full glare of sunlight. All his solace camefrom the fact that he himself, sitting there so quietly, was outwittingthe mare by showing as great obstinacy as her own. He knew that sheinwardly fretted at not arousing irritation. That a tickle, even a lashof the whip, would delight her. He sat still, leaning his head back. Hewas almost asleep when he heard a rumble of heavy wheels, and lookingahead languidly perceived a wagon laden with household goods of somespring-flitters approaching. He sat still and watched the great wagondrawn by two lean, white horses, and piled high with the poor householdbelongings--miserable wooden chairs and feather beds, and a child'scradle rocking imminently on the top. A lank Jerseyman was driving. Byhis side on the high seat was his stout wife holding a baby. The weakwail of the child filled the air. James looked to make sure that therewas room for the team to pass. He thought there was, and sat idlywatching them. The woman looked at him, made some remark to the man, andthen both grinned weakly, recognizing the situation. The man on the teamdrove carefully, but a stone on the outer side caused his team to swervea trifle. The wheels hit the wheels of the buggy, and the cradle tiltedswiftly on to the back of the balky mare, and she bolted. In all herexperience of a long, balky life, a cradle as a means of breaking herspirit had not been encountered. James had not time to clutch the lineswhich had fallen to the floor of the buggy before he was thrown out. Hefelt the buggy tilting to its fall, he heard a crashing sound and afierce kicking, and then he knew no more. When he came to himself he was on the lounge in Doctor Gordon's office. Emma was just disappearing with a pitcher in the direction of thekitchen, and he felt something cool on his forehead. He smelled aromaticsalts, and heard a piteous little voice, like the bleat of a woundedlamb, in his ears, and kisses on his cheeks, and a soft hand rubbing hisown. "Oh, darling, " the little voice was saying, "oh, darling, are youmuch hurt? Are you? Please speak to me. It is Clemency. Oh, he is dead!He is dead!" Then came wild sobs, and Emma rushed into the room, and heheard her say, "Here, put this ice on his head, quick!" James was still so faint that he could only gasp weakly. And he couldopen his eyes to nothing but darkness and a marvellous spinning and whiras of shadows in a wind. "He's comin' to, " said Emma. Her voice sounded as if she felt moved. "Don't take on so, Miss Clemency, " she said; "he ain't dead. " Again James felt the soft kisses and tears on his face, and again camethe poor little voice, "Oh, darling, please listen, please don't do so. I will marry you. I will. I know you did just right. I read one of UncleTom's books this morning, and I found out what awful suffering she mighthave had hours longer. You did right. I will marry you. I will neverthink of it again. Please don't look so. Are you dreadfully hurt? Oh, when they came bringing you in I thought you were killed! There is agreat bruise on your head. Does it hurt much? You do feel better, don'tyou? Oh, Emma, if Uncle Tom would only come. Can't you hear me, dear? Iwill marry you. I take it all back. I will marry you! I will marry youwhenever you wish. Oh, please look at me! Please speak to me! Oh, Emma, there is Uncle Tom. I am so glad. " And then poor, little Clemency, all unstrung and frightened, sank intoan unconscious little heap on the floor as Gordon entered. "What thedevil?" he cried out. "I saw the buggy smashed on the road, and thatmare went down the Ford Hill road like a whirlwind. What, Elliot, areyou hurt, boy? Clemency, Emma, what has happened?" All the time Gordon was talking he was examining James, who was now ableto speak feebly. "The mare was frightened and threw me, " he gasped. "Iwas stunned. I am all right now. See to Clemency!" But Clemency was already staggering weakly to her feet. "Oh, Uncle Tom, he isn't killed, is he?" she sobbed. "Killed, no, " said Gordon, "but he will be if you don't stop crying andmaking a goose of yourself, Clemency. " "We put ice on his head, " sobbed Clemency. "He isn't--" "Of course he isn't. He was only stunned. That is only a flesh wound. " "I tried to git some brandy down him, but I couldn't, " said Emma. "Give it to me, " said Gordon. He poured out some brandy in a spoon, andJames swallowed it. "He will be all right now, " Gordon said. "You won'tbe such a beauty that the women will run after you for a few days, Elliot, but you're all right. " "I feel all right, " James said. "It is nothing more than a little boy with a bump on his forehead, " saidGordon to Clemency. "Now, child, stop crying, and go and bathe youreyes. Emma, is luncheon ready?" When both women had gone Gordon, who had been applying some ointment toJames's forehead, said in a low voice, broken by emotion, "You are allright, Elliot, but--you did have a close call. " "I suppose I did, " James said, laughing feebly. He essayed to rise, but Gordon held him down. "No, keep still, " he said. "You must not stir to-day. I will have your luncheon brought in. Clemency will be only too happy to wait on you, hand and foot. " "Poor little girl, I must have given her an awful fright, " said James. "Well, you are not exactly the looking object to do anything else, " saidGordon laughing. "Where is there a glass?" "Where you won't have it. You won't be scarred. It is simply a temporaryeclipse of your beauty, and Clemency will love you all the more for it. You need not worry. Talk about the vanity of women. I thought you wereabove it, Elliot. Now lie still. If you get up you will be giddy. " James lay still, smiling. He felt very happy, and his love for Clemencyseemed like a glow of pure radiance in his heart. He lay on the officelounge all the afternoon. He fell asleep with Clemency sitting besideholding his hand. Gordon had gone out to finish the calls. It was sixo'clock before he drove into the yard. James had just awakened and layfeeling a great peace and content. Clemency was smiling down at hisdiscolored face, as if it were the face of an angel. The windows wereopen, and the distant lowing of cattle, waiting at homeward bars, themonotone of frogs, and the songs of circling swallows came in. Jamesfelt as if he saw in a celestial vision the whole world and life, andthat it was all blessed and good, that even the pain and sorrowblossomed in the end into ineffable flowers of pure delight. But when Doctor Gordon entered this vision was clouded, for Gordon'sface had reassumed its old expression of settled melancholy and despair. He inquired how James found himself with an apathetic air, and then satdown and mechanically filled his pipe. After it was filled he seemed toforget to light it, so deep was his painful reverie. He sat with it inhand, staring straight ahead. Then a strange thing happened. The officedoor opened and Mrs. Blair, the nurse, entered. She was dressed inblack, she carried a black travelling bag, and she wore a black bonnet, with a high black tuft on the top by way of trimming. Mrs. Blair wasvery tall, and this black tuft, when she entered the door, barely grazedthe lintel. Gordon rose and said good evening, and regarded her in a bewilderedfashion, as did James and Clemency. Mrs. Blair spoke with no preface. "I am going to leave Alton, " she saidin her severe voice, "and I want to tell you something first, and to saygood-by. " She looked at Gordon, then at the others, one after another, then at Gordon again. "I did not think at first that it would benecessary for me to say what I am going to, " she continued, "but Ioverheard some things that were said that night, and I have beenthinking--and then I heard the other day (I don't know how true it is)that Clemency and Doctor Elliot had had a falling out, and I didn't knowbut--I didn't quite know what anybody thought, and I wanted you all toknow the truth. I didn't want any mistakes made to cause unhappiness. "She hesitated, her eyes upon Doctor Gordon grew more intense. "Maybe_you_ think you gave her that dose of morphine that killed her, " shesaid steadily, "but you didn't. Doctor Elliot gave her water, and yougave her mostly water. I had diluted the morphine, and you didn't knowit. I had made up my mind that she was going to have the morphine, but Ihad made up my mind that nobody but me should have the responsibility ofit. I'm all alone in the world, and my conscience upheld me, and I feltI'd rather take the blame, if there was to be any. I made up my mind towait till a certain time and then give it to her, and I did. I am theone who gave her the morphine that killed her. I am going to leave Altonfor good. My trunk is down at the station. I came to tell you that Igave her the morphine, and if I did wrong in helping God to shorten hersufferings, I am the one to be punished, and I stand ready to bear thepunishment. " Gordon looked at her. He did not speak, but it was with his face as if amask of dreadful misery had dropped from it. "Good-by!" said Mrs. Blair. She went out of the door, and the black tufton her bonnet barely grazed the lintel. THE END OTHER WORKS BY MARY E. WILKINS-FREEMAN THE HUMBLE ROMANCE and Other StoriesPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 25 "A collection of stories of New England life as clearly cut as etchings, marvellous in simplicity and finish. " JANE FIELD: A NovelPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 25 "A tragedy told in a few words, moving with the unswerving directness ofa Greek play. The novel is lightened by a delicate love interest andtouches of homely humor. " THE NEW ENGLAND NUN AND OTHER STORIES16mo. Cloth, $1. 25 "Stories of New England village life, the best hitherto written by thisauthor, surpassing those contained in the collection entitled 'TheHumble Romance. '" SILENCE AND OTHER STORIESPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 25 "A book like this marks an epoch. It is more important than a change ofadministration. "--FROM AN ENGLISH REVIEW. THE LOVE OF PARSON LORD AND OTHER STORIESPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 25 PEMBROKE: A NovelPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 50 "The greatest American novel since 'The Scarlet Letter. '"--FROM ENGLISHREVIEW. JEROME: A POOR MAN. A NovelPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 50 MADELON: A NovelPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 25 GILES COREY, YEOMAN32mo. Cloth, 50c. "A great play. "--BOSTON TRANSCRIPT. THE PORTION OF LABOR: A NovelPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 50 "A great American novel. " THE UNDERSTUDIESPost 8vo. Cloth, $1. 25 "Stories of animal life, showing marvellous insight. 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