'f* HP-..'^ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM Cony Sturgis Cornell University Library PS 2649.P4M6 Mrs. Keats Bradforda novel ill Maria Lou 3 1924 022 498 582 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022498582 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD H movel BY MARIA LOUISE POOL AUTHOR OF "ROWENY IN BOSTON" "dally" etc. NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 1892 ^^u-bj :^ Copyright, 1892, by Harper & Brothers. AU rights reserved. TO C. M. B. CONTENTS CHAP. PAGB I. FROM FOREIGN PARTS I II. A NORTH-EASTER 21 III. OF SEVERAL THINGS 34 IV. THE TOWNSHEND BABY 50 V. BACK IN BOSTON 64 VI. SARAH Kimball's caller 79 VII. A visiting sister 94 VIII. some hospital visits 109 IX. miss PHILLIPPS thinks of CAi50NS . . 122 X. marmaduke's adventure 137 XI. somewhat canine 153 XIL AT THE RANCH l68 XIII. something of a mystery 183 XIV. behind the loomis horse 195 XV. BEING secretive 209 XVI. A BAD half-hour 223 XVII. concerning SARAH KIMBALL .... 238 XVIII. NOT IN THE WOODS 253 XIX. A BLUEBIRD 268 XX. A PARTING 283 XXI. CONCLUSION 299 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD FROM FOREIGN PARTS " MiDDLEViLLiDGE ! Middlcvillidge !" Pen and ink cannot put upon paper the strange and unintelligible shriek of the brakeman as he opened the car door when the train began to slow up in its approach to a small box, with wide projecting eaves, that stood by the track. This box was set under a hill in the midst of what appeared a broad pasture- land, and it was the new railroad station for the ham- let of Middle Village. The hamlet itself was a mile away, but a mile seemed no distance at all in com- parison with eight or nine miles. Property had risen already fifty per cent, in the village ; that is, it was held at that advanced price, but there had been no purchases as yet. " The railroad had been running," as the people said, for six months now. Still no one had grown rich, as had been predicted. The moment the train began to slacken speed a 2 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD lady near the door had risen, as if her impatience was so great she could not sit quiet any longer. She was quite alone. She was the only person who alighted on the platform on that chill day in early winter. There was only the station-master to look at her, and he made the most of his privilege. He was dimly aware that women dressed like that did not often come there ; not that he knew how she was dressed, or that her fur jacket and her plain skirt and little bonnet were irreproachable. He stared for some time unmolested by any answering glance. Instead of ad- vancing, she stood a moment just where she had stepped from the car. She gazed about her over that sere stretch of hilly pasture. Presently she drew a handkerchief from her pocket and passed it across her eyes. She turned away from the man as she did so, and he did not see the quiver of her mouth. He was going to lock the station. He only came from somewhere at train time, and then after train time he went away somewhere again. Once a day he had to take the mail-bag, and once a day he had to bring it back. There was no mail-bag^ now. He wondered "where in time that woman" was going. He didn't know of any one who would be likely to have such a visitor as that. She was young, too. She couldn't be more than twenty-five or six, perhaps not so old. I have said that this new-comer was quite alone. That is a mistake. She had something under her arm. This something moved and appeared to re- monstrate. It was put down on the planks, and it FROM FOREIGN PARTS 3 turned out to be a small hairy dog, who was still held by a leash, and who began nosing in cracks and on spots, after the manner of his kind. Now the woman walked towards the man. " Is there any regular carriage that goes over into the other neighborhood ?" she asked. He noted that she said " other neighborhood " as if she were not a stranger, and now she had turned towards him more he almost fancied that there was in her face a kind of " family resemblance " to some- body, he could not tell to whom. His curiosity, be- came almost unmanageable. He wished his wife were here. He thought she might remember some- thing. He had a wild idea of sending the mile to Middle Village after her. But how should he send ? In the midst of this confusing jumble of thought, the station agent yet had the presence of mind to ex- pectorate and to say: " No, ma'am. There ain't much call into the other neighborhood, 'n' there ain't no reg'lar wagon. I've got a boss 'n team up to the house, 'n' I'll take you over reasonable. That is, if you say so. It's a mild up to my house, ruther of a short mild. I should have to walk it 'n' then come back with my boss 'n' team. I'd let you into the station to set while I'm gone if you say the word." But the lady did not say the word. She looked round her again. "I believe it isn't quite three miles to the other neighborhood ?" she remarked, questioningly. " That's about it." 4 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " I think I'll walk. I shall get there as soon as if I waited for you to take me." She went to the end of the platform. She turned to say : " I forgot to check my trunks when I left Boston. I have telegraphed for them to be sent here. When they come will you bring them to the widow Hiram Tuttle's ? Do you know the place .'" "Of course." The man's face lightened. He was getting a glim- mer. Could this be that daughter of Hiram Tuttle's that went to foreign parts ? Now he saw it was the Tuttle chin she had, plain enough. " They ought to come by the next train. There'll be three of them." " Yes, ma'am. I'll be on the lookout. But what name'll be on um ?" " Mrs. Keats Bradford." " All right." She walked away. He saw her stoop and slip the leash from the dog, who bounded forward. " That's the one !" cried the man aloud. " Now I c'n tell my wife. It's Roweny Tuttle that was. It must be, though I never seen her before. She went off to paint, or sculp, or something. And she married there, in Rooshy, or England, or somewhere. It's her. I declare I like the looks of her. But she's got a dorg. I never did think a woman with a dorg was any kind of a woman. It seems so kinder flat to be goin' round with a dorg ; that is, if you're a woman. With a man it's diifrunt. A man c'n go round with a FROM FOREIGN PARTS 5 dorg 'f he's a mind ter. It's a man's place, seems so." The station agent walked off the platform and round a slight bend in the road that he might still continue to see the figure of the stranger. The wom- an was moving with great rapidity, though on the top of a rise she stopped and seemed to be gazing all about her. " Interested in the country, I guess," said the man. " Mebby she's thinkin' of buyin'." At last he tore himself away and walked towards his home, where he would wait the three hours until the mail train came in. Meanwhile " Roweny Tuttle that was " kept up her quick walk over the narrow road. There had been no snow as yet, and the ground was frozen hard. The day was windless. There was a thin film over the sky. Rowena looked up at the heavens. " It's going to snow," she said aloud. It was almost four years since she had sailed away from Boston. But now as she looked at the sky and said those words those four years seemed to roll away " like a scroll," and she was the country girl again, with her pulses beating fast with ambition and with the vague and powerful tendernesses which fill a girl's heart. She was utterly alone on the road, save for her dog. She held out her arms with that dramatic movement in which the self-restrained sometimes indulge when in solitude. 6 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD "It is just the same," she cried, in a half- voice; "just the same as it has been so many times in my dreams. It is gloomy and powerful ; it is unattract- ive. But it is mine. I love every twig of those blue- black cedars. Don't I know how bitter those cedar- apples are ?" A smile came to modify the rather tense features. "I know I'm talking to myself," she continued; " and what is worse, I don't care if I be. And I'm ungrammatical ; and I don't care if I be, either. It was delicious to hear that man at the station. I didn't know what was the matter with me, but I declare I guess I've been longing to hear the double negative." She laughed. A startled woodpecker flew out of a tree at the sound, and darted almost across her face. Her dog, who had returned from an investigating tour among some stumps at the right, looked up at her and gave a short bark. "You've wanted Yankee- land, too, haven't you, Marmaduke ? and you didn't know what was the ' matter of you,' either. The French language is very effective if you wish to tell the story of an illicit amour ; but we like Yankee talk, don't we?" The dog leaped up at her hand, and then darted away again. The face of his mistress suddenly settled down into its eager seriousness, and she went on faster than ever. She was afraid she would meet some one who would recognize her. She told herself that she could not bear to speak to a neighbor until she had seen her mother. FROM FOREIGN PARTS 7 No one was expecting her. She had written that in the spring she should come home. All at once she had felt it to be impossible to wait till spring. How had she ever thought she could wait ? The longing to which one must yield came upon her, and here she was. She would not see her father. She would never see him again, this side of heaven. He had died six months before. She had received a letter a fortnight later from her mother. She had carried the letter with her ever since. Mr. Tuttle had come in from planting some late turnips. The exact words of the epistle came to the daughter now as she walked. " Your father had been real well all the spring, and you know he usually has a turn with his humor before April's out. At breakfast he'd been talking about you, Roweny. I guess you don't know how much we talk about you, and how we read over the notices in the papers about your pictures. He come in and he set down in his chair. You know where his chair stands. He said, while he rested, he guessed he'd look over your last letter again. I got it out of the little bureau drawer in the bedroom where we keep all your letters. He unfolded it. All to once he gave a kind of groan, and he said, ' I feel faint.' His head fell back. That was all. Dear Roweny, don't grieve more than you can't help. I'm doing 's well's I can. I want you to be happy. I feel more'n ever I did that I'd ought to fight against thinkin' too much of you. The other children are a real comfort. Don't alter no plans on account of this. Your father wouldn't want you to." 8 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Now, as Rowena drew near that hill up which she had gone in the boat-cart with Mr. Reuben Little on her way to Boston, she was repeating these words in her mind. At the bottom of the hill was the house where the Warners lived. She could not see them now. They would be sure to see her, for no person ever passed along the highway unnoticed by Mrs. Warner. More than that : she usually managed, before many hours, to find out where that person came from and where he was going. On the top of the hill Rowena paused. What with her rapid climb and the memories that came upon her she could hardly breathe. She looked down upon the roof of her old home. She saw some one go to the wood-pile. She turned and climbed a fence and skirted hur- riedly through a field thickly grown with huckleberry and sweet fern. There was no one at the wood-pile when she reached the yard. The children would be at school. She went up to the back door. She choked hys- terically when she saw that worn, familiar door-step. But she was quite calm when she entered the kitchen. No one was there. She went to the bedroom door. Standing by the bureau where a drawer was pulled out was a spare gray -haired woman in a calico gown. She had an open letter in her hand. Rowena saw her own hand- writing on the pages. For an instant the daughter dared not move or FROM FOREIGN PARTS 9 speak. But the terrier, who had delayed outside on account of a cat, had no such feeling. He walked into the bedroom to the woman whose back was tow- ards them. He snuffed at her skirts. She turned suddenly. How old, how worn she looked to the younger woman in the dooi'-way ! But what an ineffable light all at once came to the thin face. Mrs. Tuttle clasped the letter she held close to her bosom. What can a reticent, self- controlled New England woman do with a quick-coming overwhelm- ing emotion ? She must not yield to it and she can- not conquer it. Mrs. Tuttle's eyes grew wild. For the first instant she believed she was gazing at her daughter's wraith. Then she put out her hands with a piteous gesture. The letter dropped to the floor. Rowena took her mother in her arms. She put her on the bed, for the elder woman seemed to have no strength. She lay down beside her. She held her tight, weeping silently the while. But the mother did not weep. She lay looking steadfastly in her daughter's face. She put out her hand and stroked that face. Finally she said, softly, " Don't cry ! Don't cry !" Then all at once, with a terrible fierceness, she cried out in the old Scripture way: " Oh, I have hungered for thee ! I have thirsted for thee !" She fell to weeping violently. She had not wept so since her husband's death. It had been thought lO MRS. KEATS BRADFORD by some of the neighbors that Mis' Tuttle took her loss " real easy." It had even been hinted that .she took it disgracefully easy. A widow ought to " take on " in some degree, and Mrs. Tuttle had not taken on at all. She had been too calm in the general esti- mation. Rowena's tears ceased completely. She could think of nothing but trying to comfort her mother. Still she could do nothing. It was a long time before Mrs. Tuttle was quiet. When she could speak steadily she said she "was ashamed to give way so." She supposed it was the suddenness of Roweny's coming. " I was tryin' to wait till spring for you," she said. She got up from the bed. She was afraid the fire was out, and Roweny must have some tea. How did she come over from Middle Village ? " I walked." Rowena sat down in her father's chair. Tears ran now unheeded down her face. Through them she saw her mother at work again in the old kitchen. " Mercy sake ! Why didn't you git the deepo man to bring you ?" Mrs. Tuttle was glad to talk of anything except of what she felt deeply. She took up Marmaduke and hugged him. She said " he hadn't changed a grain." She let him give one of his swift caresses. She kept putting kindlings in the stove. The fire roared up through the funnel into the chimney. As soon as she could command her voice, Roweny asked after each of the children. She smiled when FROM FOREIGN PARTS II she was told that the sister, who was fourteen when she left home, now "had a beau." " I don't s'pose it'll amount to anything," remarked Mrs. Tuttle. " Who is it ?" inquired Rowena. Mrs. Tuttle was trying to crowd more pine wood into the stove and did not appear to hear. '• Who is it ?" repeated Rowena. " You'd be surprised," said the mother, looking into the teakettle, " to see how much Sarah Kimball has grown to look like you." Sarah Kimball was the sister. She was always called at home and in the neighborhood by these two names. Strangers had even been known to think she was a Kimball instead of a Tuttle. " I hope she feels reconciled to such a resem- blance," remarked Rowena, thankful that they could both speak lightly. " I guess she's more than reconciled," was the re- sponse. " But I don't think she is really hardly a mite like you. I think she means first-rate. But she's kinder flirty, or something, somehow." Rowena noticed that her question was not answered ; but she did not now insist upon a reply, though she felt mildly curious. Her mother paused near her on her way to the but- tery. She put her hand on her daughter's thick hair for a moment ; then she asked : " Don't you want me to make you some of them wheat griddle-cakes you used to like so ? The sour milk's jest right for um." 12 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Yes ; and I used to have New Orleans molasses on them," answered Roweny. She did not feel as if she could eat at all, but she would try to do so. She had thrown off her jacket and bonnet. She drew a chair close to the cook -stove. When her mother came near she reached forward and softly touched the print gown she wore. The water in the teakettle began to boil furiously. The teapot was set on the same part of the stove that Rowena remembered. There was a crack in the edge of the stove there. Mrs. Tuttle brought her flour and sour milk and began to mix on the table. Marmaduke had gone to sleep behind the stove. " I hope Mr. Bradford is well," said the elder wom- an, with grave earnestness. She glanced furtively at Rowena, and she saw the flush that came and went quickly on her face. She had felt it strange that Row- ena had not mentioned her husband, even though no inquiries had been made about him. In Mrs. Tuttle's eyes, in spite of all her reasoning with herself, and in spite of her husband's liking for him, Keats Bradford had always been a sort of interloper. She had wanted her daughter Rowena to like Philip Barrett, who had liked her since the two were children. She had never, in the depths of her heart, become reconciled to Philip's dismissal. In vain she told herself that she hardly knew Bradford. She had never seen him since those few days when he had ridden into the country on horseback by the FROM FOREIGN PARTS I3 side of Mr. Little's cart when Rowenahad come home in that cart. The marriage had taken place in Paris more than two years before. Bradford had written to Mrs. Tuttle several times. She liked his letters ; she couldn't help it. She acknowledged to herself " that they had the right feel to them." Mr. Tuttle always said Brad- ford was a good fellow ; he knew he was. " I can't help wishing she'd liked Philip," his wife would respond, with that peculiar shake of the head that was so irritating to her husband. Even good women who love their husbapds sometimes have at least one infuriating way with them. " He was very well," answered Rowena. " I s'pose he'll be out to-day or to-morrer, won't he ?" As she put the question Mrs. Tuttle secretly hoped that she might have a few days alone with her daugh- ter before the husband came. " Hardly," said Rowena. " He is in Paris." Mrs. Tuttle stopped stirring the batter she was mak- ing. This was far worse than if he had been in Bos- ton and coming on the next train. It was really terrible that Mr. Bradford should remain in Paris and should allow his wife to cross the Atlantic without him. She hoped this fact wouldn't " get out " in the neighborhood. She felt it would be impossible to explain such a circumstance so that it would not be commented upon adversely. And Philip Barrett would never have done such a thing. " You didn't come alone !" cried Mrs. Tuttle. 14 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD "Oh no. I had my maid — and Marmaduke. I • didn't really iveed more than Marmaduke." Rowena spoke with a lightness that seemed sus- picious to her listener. " Your maid !" repeated Mrs. Tuttle, choosing to go off upon a side issue. " I didn't know you had a maid. Did you bring her ?" The speaker involuntarily looked under the table by which she stood, as if it were possible that Row- ena's maid might be secreted there. " I wrote you I had one. I wrote you how absurd it was that I should have one. I've never got over the ridiculousness of one of the Tuttle girls having a maid." She laughed. Her mother tried to join in the laugh, but was not very successful in the effort. " What in the world did you have for her to do ?" she asked. " Oh, I used to let her brush my hair, and button my boots. But she was really useful in giving Mar- maduke his bath when I used to be in my atelier so much." "What was your atterliay?" inquired Mrs. Tuttle, dreading but longing to know what such a thing could be. " And how did you get into it ?" " It was my room where I painted ; my work-room, you know. That's what they call it over there." " Outlandish !" indignantly cried Mrs. Tuttle. Both women knew they were evading the subject in the minds of both ; the subject of the husband of Rowena, and why he was in Paris and she here. FROM FOREIGN PARTS 15 "Yes ; awfully outlandish," returned Rowena. " But they didn't know any better. Let us forgive them. You ought to see my maid. She is ever so much grander than I am. I think she'd feel insulted if she should ever be mistaken for me. But she has a good heart. She refused to wash Marmaduke at first, and Keats and I used to take turns at it. She said she was not ' an attendant upon kennels.' But after a little she became so attached to the terrier that she offered to give him his bath. She said she should ' do it out of love, not from any mercenary emotion.' Marmaduke will get round anybody, just give him a little time." Rowena spoke almost too gayly. She rose from her seat and went to the back entry, where some long gingham aprons used to hang. She found one there now, and she returned with it on. The griddles were heating on the stove. She found the " griddle-fat " in the same tin dish it used to be in, and the same old fork with a rag twist- ed round it was embedded in the congealed substance. She began to fry the cakes while her mother get the table. " I presume likely," her mother said, " that the boys'll be home from school by the time the cakes are all fried." " And when will Sarah Kimball be home ?" asked Rowena. She could not but feel that there was some mystery connected with Sarah Kimball. " You said she left school the term before last. She hasn't writ- ten me for a good while." "Yes ; she left school. You know she's a little over l6 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD seventeen. She thinks of learning the dress-maker's trade. She went off to see about it to to-day." " Is her admirer stiddy company ?" Rowena turned her heated face from the stove to ask this question. "I can't exactly say he is, yet," answered her mother. But Rowena hardly heard her. The window was in front of her as she stood, and she looked into the yard where a horse and open buggy had just appeared. The sound of the frying cakes had prevented the two from hearing the noise made by the hoofs and wheels. A very young girl was giving her hand to a man as she jumped to the ground. Rowena turned back to her work. She raised a cake from the griddle, and with a dexterous twist she threw it back again on its unbaked side. Two people entered at the kitchen door. Or, rather, they paused in the door-way, staring with all their power at the person frying griddle-cakes. Rowena put down the broad knife she had been using. She advanced with both hands out-stretched. Sarah Kimball felt herself taken in a very, warm fried- cakey embrace and kissed two or three times. She returned the kisses with vigor. " It's Roweny, mother !" she cried, as if her mother had not yet discovered the fact. Rowena advanced nearer the door. Her eyes were smiling with yet more cordiality than her lips. " Philip, it is good to see you again," she said. Philip Barrett put out his hand and gripped hard hold of the one given him. FROM FOREIGN PARTS 17 " I'm pleased to see you," he said, with scrupulous formality. But his eyes shone and his face was moved. The one clear thought in his mind was the wonder as to how he had ever believed Sarah Kimball was any like her sister Rowena. He had thought so, and others had thought so too. It was perfectly ridiculous. No one was in the least like Rowena. He released the hand. He looked round the room as if expecting to see Mr. Keats Bradford. He felt it arbitrarily incumbent upon him to make the follow- ing inquiry : " How is Mr. Bradford }" " Very well, thank you." " I'm pleased to hear it," said Philip, ponderously. Then he added, " I trust your health is good ?" He knew the Rowena he remembered was smiling at him with the same old good-will. He wondered how he framed such fine sentences. He felt he was doing rather well. " My health is excellent," answered Rowena. She put on more cakes. Mrs. Tattle asked Philip to stay and eat some of the cakes. Sarah Kimball looked at her sister with the most intent and. undis- guised admiration. The terrier walked from one to the other. ' He was greeted by Philip almost with effusion, and he went out with the young man to hitch and cover up the horse, so that its owner might have some cakes and a cup of tea. On his return to the house Mr. Barrett continued to converse in detached and well-considered sentences He made several set attempts at more involved re- 2 l8 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD marks ; but he was not successful, and retreated from that field. He was completely confounded that Row- ena could seem the same after so much time spent in. Paris, and after having become Mrs. Keats Bradford. He was uncomfortable because he could not decide whether to call her Mrs. Bradford or Roweny. He did not call her anything. It was absolutely wonder- ful that she was there in that kitchen frying cakes for him to eat. He thought he had never heard Sarah Kimball chatter as she did now. And he had cer- tainly never heard Sarah Kimball when she was so little interesting. He ate a great many cakes. Rowena kept filling his plate from the griddles. He had a chivalrous intention of eating all she could fry, no matter whether he lived or died. Fortunately for him the batter was exhausted. Rowena sat down -opposite him and drank some tea. There was such a constriction about her heart that she could do no more than play with the cake before her. Her mother silently put a cup of milk near her hand. Rowena raised her full eyes to the anxious ones meeting them. The two were thinking of the footstep that would not come. But some very noisy feet were presently heard out- side. A voice cried : " There's Philip's boss again." The two half-grown boys came clattering in. They were shy of their strange sister, and would have been wilHng that she should not kiss them. But they were boisterously pleased with Marmaduke. Barrett thought he ought to go, but did not know FROM FOREIGN PARTS 19 how to start. He was conscious of an awkwardness about rising and saying good-bye. Sarah Kimball continued to talk. He wondered how many hundred questions she had put to her sister since their arrival. Finally he got upon his feet. He went round shaking hands again.- He said to Rowena that he supposed she'd done some " ruther tall painting since she'd been gone." She answered that she had worked hard, and that she loved her work as well as ever. He fancied a slight shade came to her face as she made this re- sponse. Her mother, watching her, imagined the same thing. The early December night had come when Philip drove away. He looked back to see the light shining through the kitchen windows. He saw the glint of the lantern on its way to the barn. The Tuttle boys were going out to do the chores. He could not see that Rowena went with them, and held the lantern here and there, as the exigencies of the chores re- quired. When he was round the corner he let his impatient horse go on. And he said to the darkness, " What a thunderin' talker Sarah Kimball is !" When she came in with the boys and the milk Row- ena could not help showing that she was very weary and sober. Her sister was clamoring about the non-arrival of the trunks from Middle Village. There were things in the trunks she wished to see. She said it would take " that old poke of a deepo master a month to bring 20 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD them, and she wished they had thought to send Philup." It seemed a great while before the boys and Sarah Kimball went up-stairs.to go to bed. But they did at last go. The mother and daughter sat by the cook-stove. Mrs.Tuttle bent forward and took her child's hands. " Roweny," she whispered, " tell mother. What is it?" Rowena slipped down upon her knees and leaned her face upon her mother's shoulder. " Oh, mother !" she said, " I ought never to have married." " What !" cried the other, fiercely. '* Ain't he good to you ?" A NORTH-EASTER 21 II A NORTH-EASTER As her daughter did not reply immediately, but continued motionless, leaning against her, Mrs. Tuttle repeated her question still more sharply : " Ain't he good to you ?" " Don't be so savage, mother," said Rowena. " But then," with a slight caressing movement, " I should be disappointed in you if such a suspicion didn't make you savage. But you are wrong. He is good to me. In fact, Keats is an angel." Having said that her husband was an angel, she sighed heavily. " Then why ?— what ?—" Mrs. Tuttle was confusedly battling with her innate distrust of Keats Bradford. She had for a moment believed that this distrust had found a firm founda- tion, and she had experienced a fleeting emotion of triumph that she had been right. It is such a satis- faction to be able to say, " I always knew it." Not that she would have chosen that he should prove un- worthy. And she had been secretly uneasy because her daughter had been married in Paris, although the ceremony had been performed by an American cler- 22 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD gyman; more, by a Boston clergyman. She never quite believed it was really a legal marriage. She did not know but something would come up revealing that, after all, it was only a make-believe. She was not alone in this fear. Marthy S. Hancock, the dress- maker, had confided to nearly every family in the town her firm conviction that it would turn out some day that Hiram Tuttle's Roweny wa'n't rightly .mar- ried. And she very pertinently asked as a final clincher: " What do we know 'bout how they do things over there in Paris ?" And everybody was aware that they knew nothing concerning what was done in Paris. Sarah Kimball, when she had first heard of what Martha S. was in the habit of saying on this subject, burst into tears. Then she stood up very straight and declared that she " jest as lives lick Marthy S. as not," doubling her fists as she spoke. But Nathan Henry Tuttle, the eldest of the boys, went further than that. He did not understand the subject, but he understood very clearly that his sister Sarah Kimball was "mad." He immediately announced, with reference to Mar- thy S. Hancock, that he would " knock the stuffing out of her and wipe the floor with her backbone." He had been longing to use this phrase ever since he had heard it from a new boy in his school. The power and grotesqueness of the picture presented by these words caused his audience of mother and sister to laugh so that the reproof they administered for " such awful language " was of very little effect. A NORTH-EASTER 23 " Why ? — what ?" repeated Rowena, now smiling a little. " You needn't go and blame him. It's me — it's I — myself. Of course you can't believe it, be- cause I'm your daughter and he isn't. But it's me all the same ; though it isn't grammar." She moved uneasily'; then she rose and stood before her mother, who gazed up at her with admiration and anxiety. What a lady her child looked ! But then she had always looked that. There was something different in her appearance now; she did not know what it was, but she felt it. The younger woman's face was heavily clouded, though she was still smiling as if to reassure her com- panion. " Don't look so worried," she said, tenderly. " Did you think I was going to be as ' happy as a queen ' all my life ? Of course I deserve to be," rather cynically, " but we don't always get what we deserve, you know." " I wish you wouldn't talk in that kind of a way," almost querulously responded her mother, and she added, "It almost makes the cold shivers run down my back. It's jest as if you was changed, somehow ; and I want you jest the same Roweny. Your father always said there couldn't nothin' spoil his girl. You know he called you his girl, though he'd got Sarah Kimball 'n' set a store by her." The last words were hardly audible. Mrs. Tuttle's worn face quivered. She extended her arms with an unconsciously appealing gesture. Rowena sank down again by her mother's side and into those arms. The two wept. As soon as she could speak Rowena whis- 24 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD pered : " You remember father told me the last thing when I went away that I must keep straight. The Tat- tles always did keep straight, he said. Oh, how many times I have thought of him and of how he looked when he said that." One memory after another followed. The clock struck ten. Marmaduke yawned, half awake, several times. Outside the snow had begun to fall, the first snow of the winter. The wind was rising from the north-east. It whistled round the kitchen. The back door rattled as Rowena recalled that it had always done. The sound made her nervous now for the first time. She went and pushed a wedge of wood be- tween the door and the casing. She let the water from the pump, lest it should freeze. All these famil- iar duties recalled the past so vividly to her that she paused with the pump-handle upheld in her hand and asked herself : "Is it real ? Is it true that I've been to Paris to study ? that I shall never see my father again ? that I am no longer Rowena Tuttle ? Oh !" with a sudden vehemence, " what does it all mean ? Is life in truth so strange, so unreal, so unsatisfactory ?" She insisted upon arranging the kindlings for the fire in the cook-stove in the morning. All the time, as she watched her going about the house, the mother was thinking this : " She ain't told me why she shouldn't have married. She says her husband is an angel. Women who have that kind of husbands ain't willing that they should be in Paris and they in America. That stands to rea- son." A NORTH-EASTER 25 There is some confusion in the pronouns of the above sentence when written down, but there was no confusion in Mrs. Tuttle's mind. She knew precisely what she meant. Her curiosity was not satisfied, but she could en- dure that. She believed that her daughter would be happier if she could feel to confide in her. What had Mr. Bradford really done ? Like a lurid flash the thought of what Marthy S. Hancock had said and her own misgivings about a marriage in Paris came into Mrs. Tuttle's mind. She rose quickly from the chair where she had been watching her companion's movements. " Roweny !" she cried, sharply. Rowena was now winding the clock. She paused so suddenly that the long lead weight rattled against the clock case. " What is it ?" she asked. " Did you bring your stifkit ?" " My stifkit ?" she replied, wonderingly. " Yes ; oh, dear, don't you know what I meant ?" almost impatiently. " Some testimonial about a picture of mine, I sup- pose," was the response. " They don't give anything of the kind, you dear old mother.'' Rowena came to her mother's side and put her arm over her shoulder. " How tired you are !" she said ; "and it is after ten. I ought not to have surprised you so." " I mean," said Mrs. Tuttle, persistently, " I mean the stifkit of your marriage. Have you got it with you ?" 26 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " No ; I'm quite sure I haven't. Its among Keats's papers, I suppose." Mrs. Tuttle sat down again. She was bewildered. She couldn't get things straight regarding Rowena. She felt imperatively that she must get them straight or she could never sleep again. She was also quite well aware that she must not allow her daughter to suspect why she had just asked that question about the " stifkit." She was so weary and so confused that she had an insane desire to bang her own head against the back of the chair. " If you would like to see it I'm sure I can send for it," said Rowena, almost alarmed about her mother. " Is it in the French language ?" asked her mother. " No ; of course it isn't. Mr. Baldwin, of Boston, one of Miss Phillipps's friends, married us. He made out the paper. I didn't know you wanted to see it." " I only had a notion," began Mrs. Tuttle. Then she stopped. She looked with piteous entreaty at her daughter. " Childie," she said, using a word she had hardly spoken since the girl was grown, "ain't you goin' to tell mother what ails you ? Ain't you goin' to tell her why you hadn't ought to married ?" " What good will it do to talk about it ?" exclaimed Rowena, with a sudden passionate ring in her voice. " Nothing can be helped now. Nothing ; the thing is done." She turned away. But she came back instantly. "Let me sleep with you, mother. I know Sarah Kimball has my old room. I suppose the snow is sifting in between the shingles of the roof onto the ^ NORTH-EASTER 27 boys' bed. Listen to me, mother," taking both her mother's hands. " I give you my solemn word that Keats is to blame for nothing. Some time, when I am in the mood, I will talk. But there is so little to tell — nothing. It is only something to feel.'' There was at this moment a sound overheard. Then a voice cried out : " Mar' ! Roweny ! Ain't you gone to bed yet .' Are you settin' up for them trunks ?" It was the voice of Sarah Kimball on the stairway. She was assured that no one was sitting up for "them trunks." She then announced that it was snowing ; that there were " awful drifts " already in the boys' room, and that now no mortal knew when " them trunks " would come. " Sarah Kimball !" shouted the girl's mother, with authority. " You go to bed ! You'll git your deather cold standin' on that stairway in your night-gownd !" There was then heard the trip of bare feet on the bare boards of the stairs, and the two below were aware that Sarah Kimball had obeyed her mother's command. " She's a good deal like a child, and yet she ain't a child," remarked Mrs. Tuttle, as if in defence of the girl. " She's dretful vain, I'm sorry to say. She wants to see all your clo'es 'n' things. I hope you've brought her a little somethin' — it'll please her so." In half an hour more the old house was silent, save for the responsive creaks and crackling it gave when a blast of wind came heavily upon it. Mother and daughter were lying side by side in the 28 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD small bedroom. The younger woman was already fast asleep. But the older one was thinking, thinking. Her heart was sore with grief and with anxiety. She could not yield to sleep as youth can do. She was asking herself a thousand questions. How long would Rowena stay ? Would she be con- tented? Would she paint.' What were her plans? Then she tried to think that Keats Bradford was an angel; yet of this earth, but still an angel. But when she came to this part of her musings she whispered violently, " He ain't ! I know he ain't !" Her thoughts drifted into plans for preparing a room for her newly arrived daughter. She should have the parlor ; they didn't use it much. The air- tight — here her thoughts at last began to grow indis- tinct. But, as she would have said, she only " caught cat-naps all night." When she did sleep she dreamed of seeing Mr. Bradford with long white wings growing from his shoulders. And in her dreams she said they were not real wings, but something he had put on. Perhaps the terrier Marmaduke passed as pleasant and reposeful a night as any person under that roof. He curled up on the cushion of the rocker by the stove. When at last the room grew quite cold he left his cushion and walked into the bedroom. He jumped on the bed and established himself on the pillow pressed up against Rowena's head. But before he went to sleep he put his nose over and kissed his mis- tress's cheek. There was this peculiarity about this Yorkshire : everything he did was done with an easy A NORTH-EASTER 29 assumption of a perfect right to do it. And when Yorkshires or human beings can do things in that way, they generally not only escape reproof, but are successful. The storm continued to howl and drift and sift into cracks. Sometimes, when there was a greater racket than usual, Marmaduke would lift his head and growl. The storm, however, went on, notwithstanding this growl. It was currently understood in the neighborhood that since his father's death Nathan Henry Tuttle had made the kitchen fire in the morning. That is, the Tuttles believed it was so understood, and took a great deal of pains to disseminate the belief. Nate Hen, as his brother called him, was going on fourteen. Old enough and big enough to be a great help, every- body said. His mother immediately took the stand that he was a great help. She was often saying, apro- pos of nothing, that she didn't know what they should do without Nathan Henry, now his father was gone. It must be said that, though the boy was very dear to his mother's heart, he was not generally dear to the people living in the vicinity. Eunice Warner's mother was thought to express the universal sentiment re- garding him when she made the statement that the " oldest Tuttle boy was nothin' but a great lazy lum- mox." And no one believed that he really made the fire in the morning, although no one could prove that he did not, Marthy S. had often thought that, if she could ever stay over night at the Tuttles' in her capacity as 30 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD dress-maker, she would find out about " that fire-mak- ing business." But she had had no opportunity. Mrs. Tuttle had even told Rowena, when the latter had been getting kindlings ready, that " she'd no need to; Nathan would 'tend to that." It was still very dark in the early winter morning when Rowena heard her mother's voice somewhere calling : " Nathan Henry ! Nathan, I say !" A first she thought she was dreaming, and that her mother had come to Paris to visit her. Thenjshe heard : " Most six o'clock, Nathan !" She was now wide awake. How cold the sheet was as it touched her face ! Her breath had frozen upon it. She shivered and thrust her head down under the clothes. Marmaduke whined and pushed himself yet nearer. The wind was still rushing against the walls of the house from the north-east. She could hear the indistinct sound which the snow made as it came upon the windows. Rowena wondered how she used to bear the cold and the inconveniences here ; she was sure she had thought nothing of them. Her mother came back with a lamp in her hand. She had thrust her feet into shoes, and had put a shawl over her shoulders. She began to dress, shivering as she did so. It was really quite an heroic effort for Rowena to say, as she did instantly : " Mother, come back ! I'll make the fire myself. I meant to do it, but I was asleep." A NORTH-EASTER 31 "You be still," said Mrs. Tuttle. "We needn't neither of us make it. Nathan'll be down in a min- ute. I d' know what we should do without him since your father's gone." She went to the stairs and called again. As she came back she said that "growin' boys needed a lot er sleep." The two women did not linger over their dressing. Rowena was younger and more agile. She had a fire roaring in the old stove before her mother's benumbed fingers could fasten her dress. " I declare I believe it's most zero," said Mrs. Tut- tle. " It's one of them cold storms when the snow 's fine as powder, 'n' when it's goin' to keep right on for nobody knows how long. I'm sorry it's come jest 's you're here, Roweny. I'm 'fraid you'll be terrible lonesome. 'N' you ain't been used to it lately." Rowena replied in a cheerful voice. In her heart she was asking herself how she was going to bear this "spell of weather.'' She had forgotten how rigorous and unyielding some days of a New England winter can be. On such days the storm seems to have a personal spite against you. All your far-fetched, cheerful thoughts are killed upon their arrival. Final- ly you give up trying to be cheerful. But Rowena knew she must not give up trying. It would make her mother too unhappy. She hurried about. She wished there was more to do. She wished also that she did not remember so plainly those beautiful, lux- urious rooms in Paris. And she had had a maid there. At this most incongruous remembrance she 32 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD could not help laughing a little. Her laugh was broken up by her chattering teeth. She and Marma- duke were in the back porch looking for Nathan's rubber boots. She was going to the barn to feed the horse and cow. She wanted to go out and fight her way through the drifts and the storm. Such a fight would be good for her. She put on Nathan's old coat and hat ; she pinned up her skirt. When she opened the door the snow fell into the room. It was piled up knee - high there. She took the old " bread-peel " and began to shovel as she had sometimes done when a child. She began to be exhilarated. The snow flew from her shovel into her face. The terrier flounced gayly about in it. Presently she came to a spot of bare ground. The rest of the path was not so deeply covered but that she could wallow. How she and Georgie Warner used to "waller" through drifts on their way home from school ! Had that time been a hundred years ago ? She had learned to paint since then. She had had two pictures in the Salon, and they had not been "skyed" either. She must still paint ; the longing to do better and better work was as strong upon her as ever. How many things did she think of on her way from the house to the barn ? The old horse whinnied loudly when she opened the door. It was the same horse. Her mother had talked of selling it, but Rowena had begged her not to do so. Thus far the Tuttles had accepted very little at Rowena's hands. She understood their pride A NORTH-EASTER 33 and shared in it. But now, perhaps, they would let her do more. The horse had that same trick of laying back his ears and lifting a hind-leg as if he were going to kick, but never kicking, when his measure of grain was taken to his feed-box. Rowena stood a moment in the stall and watched the horse eat. She was not afraid of him. She knew every way he had. She asked him if his spavin were any better, and if he remembered when the old " bed- room " gave out on the top of long hill and Maryjane Jewett had come to the rescue, and other questions she put to him as he munched his meal and oats. To all of which he answered nothing. Nathan Henry was up in time to milk before break- fast, and in time to develop a good appetite for that meal. The kitchen now seemed to be as red-hot as the stove. Sarah Kimball said it was just like it to drift like that when " them trunks " were expected. It was while she was expatiating on this subject that a man in a buggy, driving a lame horse, stopped in front of the house. He came to the door, and it was then revealed that it was the station master at Middle Village. He said it wa'n't no weather for trunks, but he had brought a telegram for Mrs. Keats Bradford. It had come that morning. 3 34 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD III OF SEVERAL THINGS Having handed the yellow envelope to Rowena, the station agent from Middle Village advanced to the stove and spread his hands over it. The message . had been brought from the station above him, for there was no office under his charge. All such doc- uments came to him sealed. I say all such, but since his installation in his present place he had only had two to deliver previous to this one. He had remained until he had discovered what were the contents of each. He told his wife privately that he "hadn't any notion of carting round them messages without find- ing out what was in 'em." Now, as he stood over the stove, he said he " hoped it wa'n't death. It had been death in the other two." Mrs. Tuttle and Sarah Kimball were greatly alarmed. Even Rowena shared their alarm, although since her marriage she found that many people sent telegrams almost as they would send letters. Keats had a way of sending her a word in that manner during any short absence. She tore open the enclosure and ran her eye down OF SEVERAL THINGS 35 the lines. Her face was so calm that the rest of the family ventured to breathe. " Is there anything to pay for your trouble ?" she asked of Mr. Jenks. But Mr. Jenks was so absorbed in wondering how he should find out what was written on that bit of paper, so that he could tell his wife, that, instead of replying, he said : " I guess it can't be a death." " No," said Rowena, " it isn't a death." She took her purse from her pocket. Even the station agent saw that she was not going to tell him more. Perceiving this he mentally raised his price for his trouble half a dollar. He rubbed his hands together. " I was rather busy this mornin'," he said, " and it hendered me a good deal havin' to tackle up 'n' come over here. It was paid up to the other station. My bill 'II be 'bout $i 50." He was prepared to be haggled with. His charges for everything were always so preposterous that peo- ple fought them. But Rowena silently extended the money. " I hope you will bring over the trunks to-day," she said. " Well " — he straightened out his leg that he might pull his pocket-book from its resting place — "I d' know 'bout that. It'll depend some on the weather. It 'd be kind of er pull if the snow keeps getherin' ; 'n' 'd be ruther expensive for you — I — " "Good-morning," said Mrs. Bradford. When she 36 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD had been Rowena Tuttle she could never have spoken in that way. Her face had a look of indifferent scorn, too, which made her sister, Sarah Kimball, who was watching the interview, almost breathless with envious admiration. " What ?" said Mr. Jenks, as if he could not believe his ears. " Good-morning," repeated Rowena. She turned away. Mr. Jenks moved slightly in his place. Then he walked out of the room. "I'm glad you done it!" cried Sarah Kimball. "That old Jenks has the name of bein' the meanest old skunk in Middle Village." Mrs. Tuttle shook her head. " 'Tain't well to offend folks," she remarked. She had a wholesome dread of what she would have called " the speech of people." She had suffered a good deal from it when her daugh- ter left home to go to Boston. She did not feel as if she could bear much more of it. And yet she too was proud as she saw the attitude Rowena had as- sumed. She supposed that "bein' out in the world made one like that." She also was curious about the telegram. She glanced silently at her daughter, who was now standing by the window, with the scrap of paper held closely in the hand that had fallen to her side. She could see the profile of her face. The shut mouth and the droop of eyelid had a sadness that was tender. The look somehow pierced the mother's heart. Was it bad news that had come ? She longed to ask, but she kept silent. She made a sign of repression to OF SEVERAL THINGS 37 Sarah Kimball, who had been noisily washing dishes on the arrival of Mr. Jenks, and who had resumed her occupation. Suddenly Rowena left the window and walked to her mother. She held out the paper in her hand. "You needn't worry for fear it's anything bad," she said, in a very low voice. Mrs. Tuttle drew the spectacles from the top of her forehead down to the bridge of her nose. She saw that the message was dated in London. There were very few words to it. " You must be in your old home now. My love to you always — always." It was signed "Keats Brad- ford." Mrs. Tuttle read the lines slowly twice over. She lifted her eyes to her daughter's face. " Did he send that from London ?" she asked. " Yes." The old woman was conscious of a softening of heart towards Mr. Bradford. "It must have cost a lot of money," she said. " And it sounds somehow as if he kind of missed you. Do you s'pose he does ? Of course he let you come without him, or you wouldn't have come." The old bitterness in her estimate of Bradford was perceptible now in her words and voice. "Mother," cried Rowena, "why are you so hard towards Keats? I always feel like defending him whenever you speak his name." " I ain't hard to him," retorted Mrs. Tuttle. " You needn't go to thinkin' that." 38 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " But you have never liked him," said Rowena, sor- rowfully. Don't you think he knows it ?" " How foolish you talk ?" responded Mrs. Tuttle. "But" — in extenuation of the feeling she could not deny — " you know he ain't exactly one of our kind, and I will own I don't never feel really to home with him. But, mercy sake ! I hope you don't think I've got nothing against him." " I should hope not," proudly said Rowena. In the bottom of her heart she felt a sort of relief and pleasure in defending her husband. She had a faint idea that in this defence she was making an atonement. She flung up her head and said in a louder voice, so that Sarah Kimball at the sink heard distinctly, " You think I ought not to have come home without him. You blame him for that. Blame me, then. It was I who insisted upon coming. Besides," with a laugh which had a sound of bitterness in it, "hus- bands and wives out in the great world are not so devoted to each other that one cannot come to Amer- ica and the other stay behind." It was this note in Rowena's presence which sur- prised and alarmed her mother — the note of cynicism, of something she had never detected in her child be- fore. She looked up with simple love into her daugh- ter's face. "There, there," she said. "I guess we won't talk any more about it." How could she confess that she was hurt still at what she felt to be a lack of confidence ? OF SEVERAL THINGS 39 As for Rowena, she was almost frightened at the tumultuous gloom which came into her soul. When she had pictured her home-coming she had pictured only joy at seeing the dear ones, relief at escaping from an atmosphere which she wildly declared to her- self had become unendurable. Now she went and sat down by the stove. The boys had gone to school. The low-framed kitchen was dark from the storm which still kept up its con- stant shrieking and howling, and which seemed as if it might continue for weeks. She could not go out and stroll along the familiar ways. Probably even the trunks would not come at present. Their arrival would have created some diversion, Mrs. Tuttle had pinned a little shawl over her shoul- ders and had gone into the buttery "to mix," she said. Marmaduke was passing the time in sleep. It was not nine o'clock. As Rowena sat there she reckoned up how many hours would elapse before she could go to bed again. She could not go into another room for more than the briefest stop on account of the cold ; she could not go out-of-doors. But she already be- gan to contemplate another visit to the barn at noon to feed the horse. That would be something to do. After a few minutes her sister came and sat down near her. She had a pan of "Greenings" and a short sharp knife. She also had a large earthen dish, into which to put the pared and quartered apples. Rowena looked critically at the youthful face and figure. Sarah Kimball seemed scores of years young- er than she herself was. 40 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD "It is quite absurd to call you like me," she re- marked, presently. Sarah Kimball looked disappointed. "I never s'posed I could be like you," she said, " though a good many do say so." " You are a thousand times prettier." " Oh ! oh !" blushing deeply. "Are you going to be a dress-maker ?" " I expect so. I can't teach school ; 'n' I kind of hanker to cut 'n' fit." " Then I should certainly cut 'n' fit." The sisters looked at each other and laughed. "I guess Marthy S. '11 be real mad if I dress-make." " Is Marthy S. just the same ?" " Exactly. Ain't it funny that she always says she's well acquainted with Mr. Bradforcl, and that — " Here Sarah Kimball stammered and stopped in confusion. " And that I ain't good 'nough for him," finished Rowena. " Yes, she does ; but how'd you know ?" in great wonder. " Because I know Marthy S." was the answer. Sarah Kimball's fingers flew round the apples, and the apple-skins fell fast into the pan. She said that the boys could never have enough apple-sauce. She told a great deal of the neighborhood news in answer to Rowena's questions. It transpired that Miss Han- cock had been noticed by Deacon Roper, who had buried his second wife. There was great and general interest felt as to whether the deacon would really OF SEVERAL THINGS 4I take the dress-maker or not, but no discussion as to whether she would allow herself to be taken. That the woman, like Barkis, is willing, is always taken for granted. Sarah Kimball told how she that was Georgie War- ner, and who was now Mrs. James Townshend, had come near losing her boy by scarlet-fever. She also related how Mrs. Townshend had won the prize for the most intricate pattern of bedquilt at the cattle- show for the last three years. Her bedquilts beat everything. Mr. Townshend was scrabbling and sav- ing. He was already getting beforehanded. Rowena at last began to feel her brain reeling with this sudden return to the life whose details she found she had teally almost forgotten, although she thought she had remembered them. What she had remem- bered most were the love, the pleasant wholesome things. Sarah Kimball grew more and more at home with this sister of whom she was so proud. She prattled on, revealing her shallow nature, her good-humor, her Yankee shrewdness, her love of finery. She couldn't wait, she declared, "for them trunks." She wanted to see Rowena's "things." She "s'posed Paris things must beat everything else all holler." She proposed that if the storm should "let up" any that she and Rowena should harness the old horse into the wood sled and go over to the station after the trunks. It would be great fun. ' It was only three miles. And then " old "Jenks would be jewed out of the pay for bringing them over." 42 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD To her surprise and joy Rowena entered heartily into this scheme. Then the two went round to the different windows and peered out. Still the same blinding storm. In her growing desperation and alarm at her own emotions Rowena was almost ready to propose that they should go even if the storm continued. Mrs. Tuttle saw the ill -subdued fire in Rowena's eyes. She tried to cheer them both by saying that " mebby at noon it would begin to clear." And at noon the clouds parted, much to the elder woman's surprise. The sun shone, the blue heavens were very blue. The mother much deplored the fact that Nathan Henry had carried his dinner to school, or he could have harnessed for them. But Rowena had already seen enough of Nathan Henry to be glad he was not at home to retard matters. The two ploughed their way to the barn. It was hard work getting the sled round so that the horse could be put into it, but there was a great deal of vigor and decision about Sarah Kimball's efforts; and she was thinking of " them trunks." Rowena worked as she had not done since before she left home. She tore the skin from one hand; she floundered in the drifts ; her feet ached with the cold. But she forgot that baffling heartache which had seemed to come without cause. Over in England, Keats Bradford was not assisting in any such scene. He was standing at the window of one of the clubs OF SEVERAL THINGS 43 much frequented by Americans. His hands were thrust into his pockets, and he. was scowling absently out into the busy street. Some one clapped him on the shoulder. His scowl rather increased, for he did not relish being clapped on the shoulder. "Holloa, Bradford," said a husky, good-natured voice ; " doosid glad to see you this side the Channel. Didn't know you were ever going to leave Paris. When did you come ?" " A week ago." " Hope Mrs. Bradford's well ?" " Thanks ; she is very well." " Glad to hear it. I'll call on her. Where are you putting up ?" Bradford now turned for the first time fully towards his interlocutor. " I don't think you'll call on her at present," he said. What he really said was " pwesent." The other man grew red. " Because," went on Bradford, slowly, "she is not in England." " Is that so ? Where is she .■' Condole with you, my dear fellow." Bradford shrank imperceptibly, but he replied : " She is in Middle Village." " Where 'n the doose is Middle Village ?" " In the wilds of America." " Don't talk about the wilds of America. You know, I'm an American myself." "Then I congratulate America," remarked Brad- ford, with great apparent earnestness. 44 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD His companion could not swear as he wanted to do. His smile, however, was rather stiff. As a countryman of ours may have the appearance of any nationality, almost, it may be well to state that Robert Soule looked in every way like a typical Frenchman ; that is, according to what used to be our ideas of such a person. He was small and alert ; he was dark of hair, eyes, and skin. He wore an " im- perial " and a long, carefully waxed mustache. He had a great deal of manner, especially in the presence of ladies, when this manner all seemed to merge into a touching devotion. This appearance of devotion made the men who saw it want to pick him up and throw him out of the room. But it had an altogether different effect on the women. Soule was keen and what we call " smart." He had made his own fortune — made it on Wall Street ten years before. He had been smart enough when it was made to withdraw im- mediately and completely from that street. He had gone to Paris and had remained in that city ever since. He was now forty. When he had first come abroad he had put an accent over the last letter of his name ; but he had dropped that now. He loved art. He talked a great deal about it. He often declared that if he had not been obliged to make his fortune, he should have been a painter. It was through Bradford's cousin, Miss Phillipps, that Soule became acquainted with the Bradfords. He was immediately greatly interested in Mrs. Brad- ford's work, and, perhaps, in Mrs. Bradford herself. It was he who wrote that very discriminating notice OF SEVERAL THINGS 45 of her first picture in the Salon. It was the only article among the many that were written that really pleased the maker of the picture. Not that he gave unmixed praise, but that he had penetrated to her very mood and intention. There is nothing more annoy- ing to a painter or writer than to be praised indis- criminately. It was several months before Mrs. Bradford kne"?^; that Soule had written that criticism. He was in her studio. Bradford himself was lounging and reading at one end of the room. At the other end Soule was looking over some sketches that Rowena had made long ago of fields and pastures in her old home. She said something that revealed her vivid pleasure in what Soule had written. He looked up with that flashing smile he had, but said nothing. " You wrote it !" exclaimed the artist. She was deeply gratified. She held out her hand in her frank, unaffected way. Soule was not a French- man, and he would not kiss her hand. He grasped it for a moment. "I'm glad to have pleased you," he said, fer- vently. " Keats," said Rowena, after their visitor had gone, " it was Mr. Soule who wrote that we liked so well about my picture in the Salon." She was surprised and displeased at the expression which came over her husband's face as he heard her. But the look was banished instantly. He smiled rather constrainedly. 46 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD "I believe Soule does know what he is talking about when he talks of art," he responded. " Yes, indeed," said Rowena. " I prize his good opinion more than I can tell." Bradford closed his book. He rose to his feet. There was something that puzzled his wife. She thought he was going to make some remark, but he did not. He only looked at her a moment. She met his eyes with her own clear gaze. He put his hand on her shoulder. " Oh, Rowena !" he exclaimed, in his gentlest tone. Then he turned back to his book, and she went to her canvas. It was this scene in the atelier in Paris that rose before Bradford when Soule spoke to him in the club- room in London. He could not understand why just that scene, of all the times when Soule had been with them, should come up so distinctly. " No occasion for congratulating America," re- sponded Soule, with perfect good temper. " But, seri- ously, tell me where Middle Village is. My passage is engaged by the next Cunarder. It will give me a great deal of pleasure to call on Mrs. Bradford." Bradford laughed. He was amused at the thought of Robert Soule in the Tuttle farm-house, in winter, too. But he would adapt himself, " let alone Soule for that," he thought. " There is nothing so ductile and adaptable on the face of the earth as an American who might pass for a Frenchman." He gave minute directions for travelling to Middle Village. When he had finished, he said : OF SEVERAL THINGS 47 " I don't think you know what a New - England country place is when the snow is piled all about." Soule shivered. " Wasn't I born in such a place ?" he asked. " I suppose you'll be running over soon V " Very likely." There was now a finality in Bradford's appearance which made it necessary for his companion to leave him. It was that afternoon that Bradford sent up his card to a certain parlor in one of the quiet hotels in a remote part of London. He did not have to wait many minutes before a servant came to conduct him to that parlor, where a lady rose to greet him. " Why, Keats !" she said, coming forward and put- ting out both her hands. " I suppose I have as good a right to be in London as you have," he answered, smiling. "And what a jolly place London is, to be sure !" He sat down and looked at his cousin. Miss Phil- lipps, who was dressed with such extreme plainness as to be suggestive of he knew not what. Still Miss Phil- lipps could not be otherwise than Miss Phillips. She was looking thin, but that was customary. She also had an ascetic appearance, which was not customary. There was nothing ascetic in her greeting, however. "Jolly?" she repeated. "You have a look as if nothing was jolly." "Yes," he answered, "I have removed my gay mask. It isn't worth while to keep it on just for you, Vanessa." 48 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD He sat down in front of the seat she had taken. He was, in truth, quite haggard. She contemplated him for a moment in silence. " Is Rowena with you ?" she asked. " No. Rowena is in Middle Village." Having said this, Bradford rose as if something in- tolerable were goading him. Miss Phillipps expressed no surprise. She leaned back in her chair and watched her cousin as he strode about the room. She knew that he was at no pains to conceal his mood from her. She guessed also that he had come to her because of that fact. At last she said : " It is impossible that you two can have quarrelled." " Oh no, we have never quarrelled. We are too friendly for that." There was an unpleasant expression on the word " friendly." He came and stood near her. " She simply couldn't endure it any longer," he said. " And you ?" " I ?" with a smile that made his companion's pulses start — " I could endure torment if she were only near me." "Dear Keats !" in her most sympathetic voice. " Don't pity me too much or I shall cry like a wom- an," he said, impatiently. " Did it ever strike you, Vanessa, that I am what you might call womanish ?" " No." "Well, I think I am. I cling so to Rowena — to OF SEVERAL THINGS 49 my thoughts and hopes about her, to my idea of what our life might be. I can't seem to find distractions that have any power. Now if I were thoroughly mas- culine, don't you see, I might take to drinking, or gambling, or to actresses. But those things don't in- terest me in the least. Can you recommend any- thing, Vanessa, that would occupy my mind and be manly at the same time ?" He smiled with a whimsical wistfulness as he put this question, 4 50 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD IV THE TOWNSHEND BABY Instead of replying immediately, Miss Phillipps said, pleadingly : " Do sit down, Keats ! You make me almost as unhappy as you are by rushing about the room in that way." Though her words sounded somewhat unfeeling, the eyes and tone of the speaker were almost tender. She reached forward and moved a chair very near her own. Her cousin came and occupied it. She con- templated him for a while in silence. As for him, he contemplated his boots and waited for her to speak. The silence lasted a long time. " It is very ungracious to say now that I never be- lieved in it," she said, at last. "Don't mind my feelings," he responded. "Be ungracious if you wish to be. Never believed in what?" " In your marriage. Perhaps it will be a good ir- ritant to tell you that Allestree said, when he heard of it, ' She has flung herself away.' " " Oh, that remark has lost its sting. He told me that long ago. He was so good as to explain that he THE TOWNSHEND BABY 5 1 had no reference to me as a husband, but only to Mrs. Bradford's career as an artist. He said that it was utterly absurd for a married woman to try to be anything other than a wife. I think he indulged in an oath when he said that a remarkably promising painter had been lost when Miss Tuttle married me. I was so weak as to assure him that Mrs. Bradford should be free to continue her career. He laughed at my remark, and used another oath. You see, he was very frank with me. That was immediately after the marriage. Don't restrain any words you would like to make use of in reference to me as a husband and as a man." Bradford leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. He was so pale, and there was such a wretched look in his eyes, that his smile and his words seemed extremely out of keeping. " I think you have been a perfect husband, Keats," said Miss Phillipps, earnestly. "Thank you. I suppose, then, it is the imperfect husbands who get loved." " Do you mean that she does not love you ?" " She loves me in a way. I think she is a good deal attached to me." "And yet — " began Miss Phillipps, and then paused. "Goon." " ' That she could love, those eyes declare,* " she quoted, with a deprecating smile. " I do not feel equal to finishing the quotation," said Bradford. His companion sat with her hands loosely folded 52 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD before her, her eyes apparently fixed upon something in the past. Bradford continued in the same attitude. " I know her well enough to know it is not because she is cold. She is not cold. She might be lavish. You remember it was I who — " Miss Phillipps paused, and there was even a faint hint of color in her face. " I remember perfectly," he answered. Now there came another long silence. It almost appeared as if Bradford had not called on his cousin for the purpose of talking. " I did not know but that you, being a woman, might be able to — to — " It was he who now paused in the midst of a sen- tence. But he stopped as if he had finished his phrase. " Did you think I could give you some advice .'" " Possibly. And then you know Rowena so well. She loved you so. I am always humiliated when I think of how she loved you. And, you see, such a love was no drawback to her life-work. It made her very happy." Bradford spoke these words with a great effort, but he was evidently determined to speak them. He had a hopeless air about him that appealed very strongly to his kinswoman. And the memories his words brought appealed to her also. " I can't advise you," she said. " If I did, what would you do ? Just as you please. You see, Row- ena really is what she seems to be, and I will confess to you that women are not always that. They deceive THE TOWNSHEND BABY 53 themselves consciously, or otherwise. They like to absorb themselves in an idea or in marriage ; some of them keep up the farce a good while with a change of idea. It isn't a farce with Rowena. What do you mean by saying she could not endure it any longer? She didn't tell you that ?" " Oh no. But I felt it. And her joy when I sug- gested that she go home was like a knife thrust. She saw it, and was ever after tenderness itself. I am sure she is very sorry for me. But somehow a man does not enjoy having his wife pity him. Do I make my- self very entertaining to-day, Vanessa ?" Bradford could not keep his seat any longer. He rose, and again began walking about the room. After one of his turns, he stopped before her. "You know I've never spoken on this subject be- fore. And I don't intend to keep on whining to you. Do you think they have any love philter in these days ? You have dipped into a good many things, Vanessa. You ought to be able to tell a man how to win his wife. Is there anything in the faith-cure, for instance, or any of those fads of yours. Come, help a felloWj can't you ?" Miss Phillipps attempted to smile, but her heart was aching for her cousin. " Have you ever tried being morose, savage, mak- ing her afraid of you ?" she asked. " Beating her, for instance ?" he responded. " No I haven't. I haven't even experimented in jealousy. I haven't admired some one else for the purpose of subjugating Rowena. I know that is a prescription 54 MRS. KEA.TS BRADFORD much used in novels. But I shall not try it. I've been a tame, devoted husband." " Don't !" exclaimed Miss Phillipps. " Don't be tame ? Perhaps I can't help it. I tell you, Vanessa," with a sudden break into vehemence, " I have suffered ; I do suffer." At these words the lady rose as if impelled by them. " If I could only do anything !" she said. " But you can't. I knew you couldn't. Still, you see, being a human being endowed with the power of speech, I was seized with a desire to speak to you, only to you. There's your Robert Soule can go over to America and call at Middle Village." Miss Phillipps's eyes sent out sudden sparks. " He is not my Robert Soule," she said, " though I like the man well enough." " Our Mr. Soule, then. Let us share in the posses- sion. I envy him that he is going to cross the water." " But you can cross, also." " I shall try not to. go at present." " Don't put Rowena in the position of a wife sepa- rated from her husband. Don't do that." " Why not ? Such women seem to be very interest- ing to the world in general. Now let us talk of you. What are you doing now ? In what way are you serv- ing mankind ? I thought of a nun when I came in and saw the severity of your attire. Are you going to preach a crusade ? Let me join you." " It will not interest you to know about me," she answered. "Go away now. I want to think. If I saw Rowena I suppose I should know more in a mo- THE TOWNSHEND BABY 55 ment than you, being a man, could study out in a week." The two said good-bye to each other. Bradford went to his hotel. As he crossed a park he paused to speak to a hairy terrier who ran up to him. He stood and looked after it as it returned to a nurse- maid and a baby carriage. " Why not ?" he- said aloud. Perhaps Mr. Robert Soule was somewhat surprised to see, just before the steamer pulled from the wharf that the gentleman who jumped from a cab and cross- ed the plank was Keats Bradford. Bradford was his coolest and most indifferent self when the two men met. "There was no reason why I shouldn't go home," he said. "Delighted to have you aboard," responded Mr. Soule. And he made himself interesting when the two men lounged about the deck during the voyage. But he did not talk art. Bradford used to tell himself at those times when he was alone that he was really very grateful that Soule did not talk art. It seemed to Bradford when he landed that he had lived a whole lifetime since he had stepped foot on American soil.- As he strode up Tremont Street he accused him- self of being verily sentimental. His heart warmed to every one he met. He stopped at a florist's and put a flower in his button-hole. He wanted to take off his hat to those weary looking shop-girls who were pouring along the street on their way to supper. S6 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD There was always a very soft spot in his heart for women who looked tired. He went to the Parker House and registered. He made a careful toilet, and then dined. He was de- lighted because he recognized the waiter who served him. He took a cigar and strolled out on the pavement. He walked down through Summer Street, and did not stop until he was in the New York and New England station. He found himself inquiring for a train that stopped. at Middle Village. Yes, there was one that evening ; the last for the day. With his hand in his pocket to take out the money for his ticket, Bradford changed his mind. He stepped back. " No ; I won't spoil her holiday so soon as this," he thought. He stood watching the crowd and wondering what he should do that evening. As he leaned against the wall he saw the natty, alert figure of Robert Soule ap- proaching the ticket window. He was near enough to hear him ask for a ticket to Providence. Before the other could turn, Bradford walked out of the building. He was ashamed that he should feel re- lieved that Soule was not now going to Middle Vil- lage. It was bitter to him to think that some one should see her while he did not. " I will send her something," he said. He dis- patched a large box' of flowers, and he put his card among them as if he were a lover instead of a hus- band. He did not know that these flowers would be THE TOWNSHEND BABY 57 at the mercy of Mr. Jenks, the station agent at Middle Village, and that it was uncertain when he would think best to tackle up and deliver them. As it turned out, however, it was not Mr. Jenks who carried the package to the Tuttle homestead. While this gentleman was turning the box over and over, and wishing there was some place where he could peep into it, a horse and wagon came down the nar- row road which led to the station. It was Philip Bar- rett on his way home from carrying some apples. He was hailed. He was asked to take over the box to Mrs. Bradford. He was informed that, though the express charges had been paid, Mr. Jenks's bill would be sixty cents, and perhaps Barrett could pay now and collect of Mrs. Bradford. Philip put the box under the seat and covered it with a buffalo skin. All the time his slow mind was revolving round the subject. He stepped back on the platform where Mr. Jenks stood swathed all about the head with a red " comforter," with leather mittens on his hands. He always put on the leather mittens with the first snow, and although the snow had not lasted the mittens had. " Look here," said Barrett, " I don't see how you make out that Mrs. Bradford owes you anything. If I take along that thing, I guess you 'n' she are square 's long 's the express is paid on it." Mr. Jenks meditated. " But, you see, I've had the handlin' of it," he said. Barrett grinned. 58 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " I guess you may throw in the handlin' of it," he answered, and drove off. At the Tuttle house the north front room, which was in reality the parlor, now had a fire in the " air- tight." There was an easel in it. Unframed can- vases were scattered about. There had even been an attempt at arranging some draperies, but the attempt had been given up. It was a bare square room, and a bare square room it remained. In the middle of it Rowena stood before her easel. She had her palette on her thumb, one brush between her lips and one in her fingers. She was looking at the picture, which was the tumble-down grist-mill on the old road to the Corners. She was looking at it, but she was not seeing it. There seemed to be a veil of mist before her eyes. There was an odor of mid- summer in the room. The flowers Bradford had sent were in half a dozen white crockery dishes here and there. But Rowena was not thinking of the flowers ; she was not thinking of her work ; she was thinking of nothing. She was only indefinitely conscious of some dull power which held her in thrall. This same dull power she had felt clutching her for a long time. She had been at home for nearly four weeks. It did not seem to her that she was any comfort to her "folks." She had a suspicion that her mother was constantly afraid things were not "good enough for her." She was too solicitous. It almost seemed as if the wife of Keats Bradford had taken the place of Rowena. And yet Rowena doubted her own suspi- THE TOWNSHEND BABY 59 cions. She did not feel sure even of the eternal veri- ties. She had thought life was a puzzle over there in Paris. But her work had been an exciting interest. And there had been people there who were aware that she had some skill, and who watched and criticised or applauded. Here there was no one. In terror, she asked herself if she cared for anything more than for the work itself. She questioned herself a great deal in these days. It is when one asks no questions, but only lives, that one may be happy. It is when one undoubt- ingly follows an inspiration that one does good work. The door of the room was pushed open a very little, and a head was thrust in. At the same time Marma- duke walked in through the opening, " Oh, you're real busy ; ain't you ?" said Sarah Kimball. " No; I'm not busy at all. Come in." Sarah Kimball's body followed her head. She sniffed loudly. "Oh, ain't it sweet here!" she exclaimed. "And them roses in the settin'-room are jest as sweet. That's the grist-mill, ain't it ?" Mrs. Tuttle did not often allow this daughter to go to Rowena's room lest she might be a disturbing ele- ment. To Mrs. Tuttle's mind, her eldest child was engaged in some mysterious rite which must be sa- credly respected. "Yes; it's the grist-mill," answered Rowena. She began cleaning her brushes. She almost decided that 6o MRS. KEATS BRADFORD it was that air-tight stove which intercepted all en- thusiasm. Sarah Kimball advanced and began to turn slowly round in the middle of the room before her sister. "How do you like it?" she asked; and she added exuberantly, " I cut and fitted it all myself. I guess I can set up shop as a dress-maker now, don't you ? Ain't it lovely ? I sh'll wear it to the concert. There ain't nothing like it anywhere round." Rowena admired the soft wool dress she had brought, among other things, in the trunks which had at last been delivered. "Jim Townshend's jest stopped here," went on Sarah Kimball. She had taken her place before the glass, and was turning this way and that. " He says Georgie sent word she was coming over to spend the afternoon to-day, 'n' he's goin' to call for her 'n' take supper, too. I wish I could wear this dress, but I sh'll have to help git supper, 'n' I might git something on it." Rowena called herself disloyal because her heart sank at this news. Had not she that was Georgie Warner been one of her dearest friends ? She liked her still in a certain retrospective way. But she knew that Georgie's subject of conversation was now James Martin Townshend, the boy who was going on three. And Rowena already knew positively just when he had first smiled, and how enchanting he had been at that moment. She knew when he had almost grown black in the face with an attack of croup. She knew all about his falling down-stairs, and also that thrilling THE TOWNSHEND BABV 6l instant when his father had " come within one " of pulling the great horse-roller over him, and everything that was said on that occasion. Rowena thought, with almost an audible groan, that she could not bring her- self to listen to all that again. Could she run away ? She glanced about the room. Her glance encoun- tered Sarah Kimball's bright eyes. That person came nearer, and Rowena's arm drew her to her side. " I know it's an awful nuisance for you, Roweny," remarked the younger, sympathetically ; and then, with emphasis, " 'n' sometimes I do wish that little James Martin 'd never been born, or else had died in that fit of croup, or under the horse-roller that time ! Jest as if we wanted to hear about that baby every minute of our lives ! I sh'll sass her, I'm 'fraid, if she goes over them stories again." This outburst from Sarah Kimball was something of a relief to her sister. But that afternoon was very long. Mrs. James Townshend and baby were deliv- ered at the Tuttle door at a quarter before two. Rowena assisted at the unfolding of the baby, and in ten minutes her brain was swimming wearily along on the sea of talk poured forth by Georgie. This was not the first time she had seen her old friend. At the first interview Georgie had made it perfectly evident that she did not wish to hear anything about Rowena's life abroad. If Rowena dropped a word concerning it, Georgie was so ex- tremely bored that her friend in pity desisted. And Rowena had imagined that her acquaintances in her old home would like to hear some things she had to 62 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD tell. But no ; her absence was ignored not from a set plan, but no one was interested in anything be- yond the limits of Middle Village or the Corners. Information as to every incident which had occurred in these places was lavishly given her. When James Townshend came to supper he did not talk at all, but confined himself to partaking copiously of food and drink. Georgie could not talk during the very act of swallowing, but she could and did at every other moment. When at last Rowena, having assisted in wrapping up, as she had done in unwrapping, the baby, stood at the door with a lamp in her hand and saw the guests drive away, she was on the verge of insanity. Every particle of strength and spirit had been sucked out of her. She had listened, and smiled, and said "yes," and "is it possible," until her lips refused to form a smile. They were stiff. She put the lamp on the table and literally sank into a chair. She wanted to groan. The terrier came and jumped in her lap. "Thank Heaven, Marmaduke," she cried, "you can't talk !" Her mother looked gravely at her. Sarah Kimball was collecting the supper dishes with a great clatter. " I declare !" she said, slapping a handful of knives into the sink, " I jest about hate that baby !" "The baby isn't to blame," reprovingly remarked Mrs. Tuttle. " I know it ; but Georgie makes you hate it all the same." THE TOWNSHEND BABY 63 Rowena leaned her head back and dosed her eyes. She was telling herself that she could not bear it, she could not bear it. And of what avail was it that she was so exhausted ? She was sure no one had been adequately benefited in return for that exhaustion. It was while she was sitting thus that Marjnaduke, on her lap, suddenly rose to his haunches and growl- ed. Then there was a knock on the outer door. 64 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD BACK IN BOSTON It was not customary that any calls should be made where the Tuttles lived so late as eight o'clock in the evening. It was ten minutes after that hour when Marmaduke sat up on his haunches and growled, and that there came a knock on the back door. "Mercy! who c'n that be?" cried Sarah Kimball. She ran to the glass and patted her hair ; as she did so she said, " Mother, I do wish you'd go to the door. It can't be Philip 's late as this." Mrs. Tuttle knew that her younger daughter was all the time intending to admit the visitor herself, so she did not take her hands from the dough she was knead- ing to set to rise. She merely remarked that it would take too long to wash the flour off. Meanwhile Rowena had raised herself upright in her chair. She wondered if she could compel an ap- pearance of attention again before she had had the opportunity to recuperate after the exhaustion conse- quent upon so many hours of Georgie Townshend and her baby. The terrier had gone to snuff at the threshhold. When Sarah Kimball had patted her hair sufficient- BACK IN BOSTON 65 ly, she opened the door. Her eyes, having just' left the light, could only vaguely see the form of a gentle- man, who took 'off his hat. From the wag of Marma- duke's little tail it was evident that he knew this gen- tleman ; but was not going to be demonstrative, only polite. " Is Mrs. Bradford here ?" " Yes, sir ;" primly from Sarah Kimball. " Will she see an old friend ?" was the next ques- tion. " Won't you walk in ?" said the girl. Rowena had risen and was standing in front of her chair when Robert Soule entered. It seemed to her as she shook hands with him that she was not thinking at all of the man before her, but of her husband. She had last seen Mr. Soule in her Paris studio. She felt an almost uncontrollable desire to press her hand forcibly upon her heart. But instead she greeted the new-comer with a certain suaveness that was not, perhaps, altogether sincere, and which her sister, looking on, thought the most wonderful perfec- tion of manner. And yet Rowena was very glad, after the first moment, to see this gentleman. She present- ed him to her mother, and to Sarah Kimball. The boys had gone to bed. They had gone in the very midst of Mrs. Townshend's description of the ac- cident that might have happened with the horse-roller. They had yawned with such beautiful freedom and persistence that Mrs. Tuttle had recommended them to*etire. Although they had shuffled their feet a good 5 66 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD deal, and made some quite audible remarks on the way, the story of the horse-roller went right on, and Rowena had no intermission in the acf of listening. Now she was amused and gratified at the way, Mr. Soule, when he had seen Sarah Kimball and herself seated, drew up his chair to the stove. It was as if it had always been a strong desire with him to sit on a hard, straight -backed chair in front of a very hot cook-stove in a kitchen in New-England. He glanced at the two sisters. He addressed some trifling re- mark to the younger one, who replied with eager and flattered interest. He then talked a good deal with Sarah Kimball. When Mrs. Tuttle at last brought her bread dough from the buttery, where she had hurriedly taken it on his arrival, Mr. Soule rose and put the tins on the high shelf over the stove that the mixture might rise during the night. " It's exactly as my mother used to do down near Bucksport, in Maine," he said, tak- ing the towel from Mrs. Tuttle's hand and spreading it over the dough. He brought the rocker for Mrs. Tuttle. He stood until she had placed herself in it. There was no for- mality in his way, only a kindly, solicitous interest, so far as one might judge. The women did not have to exert themselves to talk. He talked, and they spoke when they chose. Mrs. Tuttle, in response to his re- cital of how his mother made what she called potato bread, was led to give a somewhat long relation of how she did it, and the success she had. Rowena sat looking at her mother with a slight BACK IN BOSTON 67 smile on her face. She glanced now and then at their guest, but he did not appear to notice her glance. It was really wonderful how the mother's weary, sad face brightened. After a while Mr. Soule mentioned the fact that Mr. Bradford had been his fellow-passenger on the voyage home. He quoted some words of his ; he spoke of the remarkably good condition, spiritually and physi- cally, in which Bradford appeared to be. Mr. Soule wished he were as fit as his friend had seemed. He congratulated the wife. Rowena had learned to con- trol her face since that time when Miss Phillipps had warned her to do so. She did not show in the least how she was stung by the words she had just heard. She even exerted herself to give Mr. Soule a some- what kinder smile as she replied that she was so glad to hear that Keats was so well. She had judged so from his cheerful letters. " He is a real Bostonian, you know, Mr. Soule," she concluded, " and I suppose, if he were made to tell the simple truth, he would acknowledge that he had been greatly bored by his long residence in Paris." " Bored !" repeated Soule, with a sudden look which told more than his exclamation, and which, in spite of herself, made a faint color rise to Rowena's face. She could not tell why, and she knew it was not true, yet she felt as if she were a neglected wife. She had never experienced that sensation before, and she did not enjoy it. Perhaps a woman may understand why, though she was indignant with Mr. Soule, she became yet more gracious to him. 68 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Gradually the talk set in between these two exclu- sively. It ran on art and kindred topics. Mrs. Tut- tle and Sarah Kimball listened in a dazed way. They gazed at Rowena with a thrill of wonder and admira- tion. Mrs. Tattle's heart swelled. She wished that Mrs. Warner and Marthy S., even the minister, might hear and see her now. She did not understand her, but she was unutterably proud of her. Sarah Kim- ball looked at her animated face, her intent eyes ; she saw the sparkle of the rings on her hands ; and yet Rowena was so quiet, she spoke in such a low voice, her laugh rang in such a subdued tone. Sarah Kim- ball also did not understand it at all. When she or her mates were interested, or having a "good time," they talked loudly, they shrieked with laughter, they even pinched and shook each other, they " trained." And Sarah Kimball was bright enough to perceive what no one else saw, the undercurrent of dissatisfac- tion in her sister's mood. Mr. Soule remained more than an hour. He apol- ogized for staying so long. He was on his way from Providence to Boston. Hearing from his friend Brad- ford that Mrs. Bradford was in her old home, he could not resist the temptation to call. He was invited very warmly by Mrs. Tuttle to come again. Rowena said nothing. When he had bowed himself out, Sarah Kimball turned with a glowing glance towards her sister. " Oh, what "a perfectly beautiful gentleman — I mean his ways. His face ain't so pretty, but what awful pretty ways !" BACK IN BOSTON 69 "I was pleased with him a lot," more sedately said Mrs. Tuttle. She looked at her daughter a mo- ment in silence. After a slight hesitation, Rowena responded, " Keats and I always thought him very entertain- ing." When Rowena had gone to her room that night the door was hesitatingly opened, and Sarah Kimball stepped within. It was the parlor, where not only Rowena's easel stood, but her bed also. ' She was now sitting by the little stove, with Marmaduke on her lap. The girl came forward and stood by the stove. She was looking almost lovely with the excitement and in- terest on her face. " He beats all !" she exclaimed, in a whisper ; and added : " Ma thinks I've gone to bed, but I did want to come in here a minute." She sat down on a stool and leaned up against her sister, stroking Marmaduke's sleepy head as she did so. " Is that the way they all are ?" she asked. " All V " I mean all the men out in the world. Do they all have that kind of a lovely, lovely way, as if they were making love to you, and yet wa'n't, exactly? ^ I mean, that they are just longing to make love, only that they mustn't ? I can't tell exactly what I mean ; but oh, isn't it beautiful ? I didn't know there could be just such kind of a man 's that. I know one thing, though." 70 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD She spoke the last sentence with great emphasis. "What is it.?" " I s'pose it's real silly of me, but I do think if I was Mr. Bradford I should be just's mad 's I could be to have that fellow round ; and do you know what a softly kind of a voice he has the minute he speaks to you, Roweny.' I should think you'd be as proud as time of it, and you can't find a bit of fault with it, nor do anything about it ; but I should be hoppin' mad if I was Mr. Bradford." Rowena's face was burning. The years of self- control and repression which had been necessary for the country girl seemed at this moment to go for nothing. But this sister of hers was not right; she could not be right. She turned to her almost fiercely. " Sarah Kimball," she said, "you don't' know what you are talking about. You don't know what a flat- tering, gentle way some men of the world have tow- ards women. And Robert Soule is well known for just what you have described. Every woman thinks it is she alone in whom he is interested. That's his way." The other remained silent a short time. Then she looked up, and said : "I don't care what you say, Rowena. I sh'd be real mad if I was Mr. Bradford." Rowena laughed now. " You may be sure that Keats isn't real mad. Now go to bed, and don't dream of Mr. Soule.'' She took her sister in her arms and kissed her ten- derly. She wondered why her heart had that dull ache in it. BACK IN BOSTON ji The dull ache continued the next day, which was snowy, with not a sound outside from the time when the boys went off to school until they came home at night. The only break in the time was when it was discovered that Nathan Henry had not filled the wood- box in the porch, as he was supposed to do every day. Rowena was glad to kilt up her skirts and go out in the storm and do her brother's work. But these repeated attempts to return to some of the customs of her childhood seemed to bring only a sadness to her. Life had utterly changed. She could not shrink any longer from that fact. She painted in the morning hours with a kind of ex- hilaration which lasted until the afternoon. Then the hours were interminable. Sometimes Philip Barrett called a little before sev- en in the evening. He sat and gazed at her, and could not talk. She would go to her room, and then she would hear him and Sarah Kimball engaged in steady conversation. She could not know that his part consisted chiefly of questions about her. She wrote to her husband, who was in New York on what he called business. His notes, however, were brief. She rose one cold morning with a sense that her brain was becoming benumbed. She asked Nathan Henry if he thought he could carry her to the station in Middle Village. She would go to Boston and see about taking some rooms there. She wanted to be in town for some exhibitions. "I thought you'd be gittin' tired of us," said her 72 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD mother; "but I wish you could be contented to stay." " I'm not tired of you," replied Rowena, in a tremu- lous voice. She werit round the breakfast-table, and put her arms over her mother's shoulders. " I'm only tired of myself. I must go. You see, my old life is strange to me. I can't get used to it." She felt like sobbing, but she swallowed that incli- nation, and wept on quite cheerfully to tell what she wanted to do in Boston. And would Nathan Henry take her ? Nathan Henry began to enumerate the insuperable objections which lay in the way of his harnessing that morning. But his younger sister bade him shortly to " shut up 'n' go out 'n' harness." As there were times when Nate Hen obeyed Sarah Kimball, and this was one of the times, he went grumbling out of the room, taking his brother with him. He came back in a few moments to say the " sharves of the covered wagon wa'n't fit to go out." "Tie up the sharves, then," commanded Sarah Kimball, and she went in person to see about the wagon. The mother and daughter looked at each other. " I do wish you was real happy, Roweny," said Mrs. Tuttle. "Your father "^- here she paused — "your father'd be jest heart-broken if he thought his girl wa'n't happy." " Oh, don't grieve, mother," hurriedly answered Rowena. "If I'm not perfectly happy it's my own fault. And I do have days, when my work goes right, BACK IN BOSTON 73 when I wouldn't change places with any one on earth. Oh, those are royal days ! It's foolish to be striving for happiness, don't you think, mother?" eagerly. " The more we strive the more it eludes us. Let us only do worthy work — " "But a woman needs something more," said Mrs. Tuttle, pushing back from the table with a vigorous movement. " 'Tain't no use for her to think she c'n git along jest with business to take up her mind ; yes, she can git along, but she'll want something else." " Don't talk that way, mother !" exclaimed Rowena, with a touch of impatience. " That is such a foolish old-fashioned way to talk. And it's not true. A woman is an individual as much as a man is. Some of them are clinging vines, and some are not. Just because a person is a woman is no reason why she must be merged in somebody else. I do dislike that way of looking at things." Mrs. Tuttle gazed wistfully at her daughter. She did not know how to answer her. She felt that she did not know much of what was in Rowena's mind. There had not been that confidence between them that she had hoped there might be ; and Mrs. Tuttle was not one who believed in meddling in other peo- ple's affairs, even in those of her own child. Now as she looked at Rowena, notwithstanding that the girl had made what might be called a brilliant marriage, the mother could not help saying to herself : " If she had only been content to marry Philup 'n' settle down like other folks. But 'taint no use wish- ing." 74 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Sarah Kimball proved to be successful with the " sharves " and all other complications which Nathan Henry could suggest in the way of obstructions, and Rowena and Marmaduke and the trunks started to Boston. It was her sister who drove her to the sta- tion. On the way the younger woman took occa- sion to say that she s'posed Roweny'd see that Mr. Soule. She was informed that Mr. Soule had gone South, thinking to remain through the cold weather. The girl could not help shedding a few tears when her sister kissed her. She was charmed with Rowena ; she was proud of her. " We sh'Il be awful lonesome," she said. " But perhaps I shall send for you," was the re- sponse. " I hardly know yet what my plans are." And so she went back to Boston. She had no plans beyond the vaguest. She would get some rooms ; one of them should be her studio. There was pride in the reticence she maintained towards her husband, though writing frequently to him. And she was sin- gularly free from a fear of gossiping comments upon her actions. She rarely gave a thought to " what peo- ple might say." Meanwhile, until she could adjust herself, she went to a quiet hotel at the South End. She had a strange feeling as if she were beginning life over again, not as the same woman who had once before come to Bos- ton, but as some one else, she knew not whom. Some one else with whom she must get acquainted. She used to ask Marmaduke, like the old woman in Mother Goose, " If I be I." And the terrier assured her with BACK IN BOSTON 75 enthusiasm that she was the same Rowena, and that he loved her unutterably. She had almost no acquaintances in the city. She found herself thinking of Mrs. Sears, who had given her the dog, but she could not make up her mind to call upon her. She was as much by herself as if she were in a foreign town. Once she walked through Hudson Street and paused in front of Mrs. Jarvis's door. She doubted if Mrs. Jarvis were there. There was no sign of meal tickets for sale. While she stood hesitating near the lower step, a large woman in an ample cloak passed slowly by her, then turned and came back. " Is it possible ?" said a rich rolling voice. " Yes, it is ; it must be !" Two large hands, in tan-colored cotton gloves, were extended. " I s'pose it isn't Miss Tuttle any longer," continued Madame Van Benthuysen. Rowena could only give one hand, unless she laid her muff on the door-step. She gave that hand cor- dially. " It is Mrs. Bradford," she answered. " I hope the world has been good to you, Mrs. Van Benthuysen." The woman laughed, her hard, fat cheeks wrinkling back stiffly as she did so. " You ain't the only one that's changed her name," she said. " I'm Mrs. Stanger again.'' Rowena looked bewildered. She remembered that time when Major Stanger had come in spirit to the seance. But could he come back from that land 76 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD where there is no marrying and wed again with his old love, now a Van Benthuysen ? " It's the major's brother," explained the other. " And how are the spirits ?" asked Rowena. " I give up the spirits long ago. I'm in the under- takin' business now. That is, he's in it, and I'm in the shop afternoons a good deal. You might think it wa'n't cheerful, but you don't mind it a bit after a Ut- tle. You see we've all got to die, and what's the use bein' skittish about caskits and things ? I should be real pleased if you'd come in some afternoon. We are still on the avenoo." Rowena thanked her. " I see you've got the same little dorg, ain't you ? I s'pose you married well ?" Mrs. Stanger put this last question as she would have asked if a person had made a good bargain in a purchase. And she waited for an answer. " Yes, I've got the same little dog," said Rowena. " And you married well ?" repeated the woman. She looked over Rowena's perfect costume. " Yes, I married well," was the answer. " So glad. I ain't married real well yet, myself, but I'm improving. I'm always so thankful when a girl marries well the first time. I did think once that you and Ferdinand might make a match of it, he was so taken with you ; but I s'pose he changed his mind. Ferd is doing first-rate, they tell me." Rowena tried not to show her surprise at this state- ment. She expressed pleasure at his good fortune. She inquired for Mr. Foster's sister, and was told that BACK IN BOSTON 77 she lived with her brother ; she didn't have to work now. Then Mrs. Stanger said she must hurry along or she " shouldn't ketch her car ;" and she again asked her companion to call. She shook hands in her large and impressive way, and sailed off along the sidewalk. Rowena walked on and turned into Essex Street, as she had been in the habit of doing when she did light house-work in Mrs. Jarvis's attic. She went on me- chanically until she came to the building on Tremont Street, and the broad stairway which had seemed so grand to her.^ There was Allestree's name just where it had been. She mounted the steps, and pushed open the swing-door with the terrier at her heels. The girls were at their easels. For the first mo- ment she did not see the master. Presently he came forward. He was eager and flattering in his greeting. He talked impressively and profusely of the canvases she had exhibited in Paris. Her heart and her face began to glow. He brought up the young ladies, and she saw in their eyes what they felt for her — that mix- ture of love and homage which had so often made her own pulses leap. She was very kind to them. She thought she was a great deal older than they, a score of years. She knew that she had done work that justified her in hoping triumphantly; and all of these students knew what she had done; naturally they thought much more highly of it than she did. But it was a sweet half-hour to her. She went away with a fine light in her eyes. Why should she be de- spondent? She would set up her easel directly. Al- 78 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD ready she had an idea. When she reached her room in the hotel she sat down before the fire, thinking of her idea. She was still thinking of it, and of the kind of rooms she would take, when a servant brought her a card. She said aloud : " But no one knows I am here." " You see I know, and I take it for granted you will receive me," said a voice at the door. Rowena turned to meet Mrs. Caroline Appleton- Sears. SARAH Kimball's caller 79 VI SARAH Kimball's caller Mrs. Appleton-Sears was a large, elderly woman, with a florid face, and gray curls looped On each side of it. There was not a hair of those curls but knew that the head on which it grew was a thorough- ly Bostonian head. Appleton was not Mrs. Sears's husband's name; it had been her own name before she married, and it was far too good to drop for the sake of a husband. Even before the death of Mr. Sears his wife's cards had always been engraved thus : " Mrs. Caroline Ap- pleton-Sears.'' This fact was much commented upon, and it was even mentioned in the presence of the lady herself. She had only remarked that while she was willing to take her husband's surname, she certainly was not going to throw away her own. She was a woman who had money and a first place in society. It is not necessary to state that she was cultured, since I have said she was Bostonian. Still, I would like to reiterate the statement that she was truly cultured. And she was so independent that peo- ple who were intimate with her often took heart of grace and became mildly independent themselves. 8o MRS. KEATS BRADFORD She dressed richly and fashionably, but she was ca- pable of walking out in a storm in a short water-proof suit and high boots; a suit in which she said she knew she was not beautiful, but she had the higher consciousness of being suitable. Some younger wom- en had begun to follow her example in the matter of the storm-suit. They expressed themselves as delighted ; they said they had never before known what it was to have the use of their legs. When some newspaper writer called them the " Appleton-Sears Vivandiferes," they adopted the title with joy. Some of them, in ad- dition to the smart high boots which wrinkled along the ankle, wished secretly that they might have a little barrel attached to a strap and slung over the shoulder. But they had not yet come to the little barrel. " I am delighted to receive you," said Rowena, go- ing forward to meet her guest, and leading her to the chair before the fire. She spoke the simple truth. Notwithstanding her social training, Rowena still had a trick of being truthful. " Why are you incognito, like a travelling queen ?" asked Mrs. Sears. She patted her knee for Marmaduke to come upon it. That individual was looking intently at her, and immediately upon receiving his invitation jumped up and composed himself comfortably. " People who are not intimate with Yorkshires miss a great deal," remarked Mrs. Sears. She put out one hand and took that of her compan- SARAH Kimball's caller 8i ion, who was standing near her. She did this with the air of an elderly woman who is permitted to do what she pleases. She had hardly seen Rowena since an evening when the two had been present at a Brown- ing Club at the house of Miss Phillipps. But she had remembered her. That she had been attracted had been strongly demonstrated by her sending Marma- duke. It was her habit to say that not everybody was worthy to have a dog friend. " Well, why incognito .■"' she repeated. " But I'm not." " It amounts to the same thing. You tell no one of your arrival. Do you think Mrs. Keats Bradford would be neglected if it were known she was in Bos- ton ?" " But if I want to be neglected ?" " Does that mean that I must go ?" " Oh no, indeed ! It means tliat I — ^well, I mean to work, you know." Mrs. Sears arranged Marmaduke a little on the folds of her fur cloak, and then leaned back that she might the better look at her hostess. " Since it is you who say so, I believe you," she re- sponded. " Is it incredible that a woman should love her work ?" asked Rowena. "It is not incredible that a woman who is not obliged to work should love her work. What if it were by your paint brushes that you gained your bread ?" " I should still love my paint brushes." 6 82 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " You would have to forego for some time the pos- session of a gown like this," taking a fold of Rowena's skirt between her fingers. " I could forego it." The face of the elder woman was extremely kind. Faces were quite likely to become kind when they were turned towards Rowena. " Age sometimes takes the privilege of being dis- agreeable," said Mrs. Sears, " and I am now about to be disagreeable. Why did you marry ?" Rowena did not answer. She felt dumb. Her companion stroked the hand she still held. " Dear child !" she said, in a low voice, " will you allow me to say that since you were to marry, you could not have chosen more wisely ?" " Oh, I believe that," fervently, and flushing with her earnestness. She sat down near her friend. She clasped in both her own the hand which held hers. " Life is so mysterious !" she exclaimed, in an un- dertone. There was such a thrill in her voice, such a look on her face, that Mrs. Sears, though very well seasoned by a long life in the world, was conscious of a sudden stinging of the eyes. " You are beginning to find that out, are you ?" she responded. " I used to think, years and years ago, that life was the simplest thing in the world. One had only to do right." " And it must be so now, only we won't see it," said Rowena, " we are just to do right." She sighed. "And SARAH Kimball's caller 83 I suppose that means always the thing that is hardest, doesn't it, Mrs. Sears ?" " I have some ideas about self-sacrifice which are somewhat different from those generally inculcated by Sunday-school books," Mrs. Sears returned. "These ideas have been gradually evolved from experience and observation. Perhaps they are heretical, but they are mine." Rowena waited eagerly. She was hoping for some light on the turbulent darkness of her own thoughts. " But I didn't come here to preach," went on Mrs. Sears. " I will only say now that a life of habitual self-sacrifice makes your associates almost too selfish to live. Mind, I'm not going to follow out that line of thought at present, and I do not wish to corrupt your young mind. Let us change the subject. Are you just as enthusiastic as ever over your vocation ?" "Yes. Please remember, Mrs. Sears, that I was born with the love of it in me." " I believe it. I have sometimes thought that, when a female child is born with a certain irresistible bent, she often knows that she has no vocation towards marriage." Rowena was silent again. But she now clasped her hands tightly together. At last she said : " To be a woman, then, is to be obliged to choose to have one thing only. It is not so with men. Is it God's will that men should have everything ?" " It is very difficult to tell what God's will is;" said Mrs. Sears. " But this is altogether too serious. Why don't you ask me how I knew you were here ?" 84 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " How did you know ?" obediently questioned Row- ena. " I had this note from your husband." She took an envelope from her pocket and extend- ed it towards Rowena, who read the few lines : " My dear old friend, — Mrs. Bradford is at the Hotel. She likes you. She is indebted to you for one of her best beloved friends — meaning Marma- duke. If you called on her I know you would be glad you had obliged me, not from a sense of duty done, but because you will have the pleasure of meet- ing her." " He puts it rather prettily, doesn't he?" asked Mrs. Sears. " When is he coming to Boston .■■" " I don't know.'' " Aren't you two going to establish yourselves here, and lead lives befitting people who have the entrance to the best houses in Boston ?" Mrs. Sears spoke quite sternly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. " I don't know," said Rowena again. " Well, we'll try to find out. I call myself a woman of progressive views. I am positive that I love art profoundly, but not even for one of your best can- vases, Mrs. Bradford, am I going to have you lost to Us." She rose and gently put the terrier down on a chair. "Did you see Vanessa Phillipps often during her last visit abroad .<"' she inquired. SARAH Kimball's caller 85 " Not often. She seemed much absorbed." "Yes. She has just returned. I see you didn't know that. She is at her home on Charles Street. She thinks of giving up society" — here Mrs. Sears smiled. " She is now in the midst of a profound flir- tation with an Episcopal Sisterhood. I am not sure but that she will have a chapel added to her house, somewhere. She may get as far as a confessor before the tide sets the other way. I don't know exactly about these sisterhoods. Good-bye. I'm glad I found you. You are worthy of Marmaduke. You can't ex- pect me to say more than that.'' With another smile, " You will hear from me soon." Mrs. Sears stood near the door a moment. She was fastening her cloak, but her eyes were on her companion. "It is really absurd in me to feel such an interest in you, Mrs. Bradford. Not because you would not naturally inspire interest, but because I am old enough to know I ought to care really for nothing but my din- ner and my easy-chair. And then I have a tendency to wish to plan the life of young people, and I have noticed that young people have an equally strong ten- dency to plan their own lives. Now you, for instance, Mrs. Bradford, are one of those young people who think they know what tJiey want." " Yes, decidedly, I know what I want,'' said Row- ena. "Of course. It is a great mistake. Don't want anything. Young folks usually try to be happy. Ri- diculous ! You might as well try to dream a certain 86 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD dream. You never will be happy as long as you try to be. But you can be comfortable. Youth, however, does not call for comfort ; it desires ecstasy. Good- bye again. I shall write to Keats that I have called on you and found you looking and seeming happy. That will disquiet him far more than anything I can tell him." " But why disquiet him ?" inquired Rowena. • "On the general principle that men ought to be disquieted. I am really going now. I shall send you a card for my next reception. And you must come. Be as earnest as you please about your vocation, but you must not neglect society — I mean Boston society, of course." She kissed Rowena and went away. When Mrs. Sears was established in her coupe, she said, audibly, to herself, " It is truly astonishing what idiots young people can make of themselves. If that Rowena Bradford did not look at you in just that way, and have just that tone in her voice, you would certainly take her by the shoulders and give her a good shaking. She won't know any better than to make people talk. But they will do well not to talk before me. What is Keats Bradford doing mooning about in New York ? But, poor child " — suddenly reverting to Rowena again — " she really is cursed with a true genius in the way of putting pigments on to canvas. No wonder she has a heartache if she can't have her brush in her hand. If I were a man I should say, ' What the devil did she marry for ?' But I won't say it. I believe in mar- SARAH KIMBALL'S CALLER 87 riage — for some people. I could have sobbed when she asked if it were God's will that men should have everything. And I might as well have said yes it was. For it certainly does seem as if it were His will, and we who are not men might as well submit gracefully." When she had been particularly interested it was sometimes Mrs. Sears's habit to converse with herself in her carriage. Occasionally her dog was present to listen to her monologue. She said that he was the most appreciative listener she ever had because he could not answer back. And it is one's own idea in which one is interested, not the ideas of another. Rowena, left in her room at the hotel, found she could not sit down again. She was disturbed. Her thoughts would not again flow in that channel of eager hope about what she wished to do. She was not nat- urally restless, or she had never thought herself so. She almost wished she had remained in the country with her mother and Sarah Kimball. She sent down for a daily paper and looked over the advertisements of apartments to let. It seemed to her that she had only just become accustomed to the knowledge that she need not think of the cost of anything. " If I keep by myself and am busy, why need any- thing be said about me ?" was her thought, flying off from the sense of gratitude that lack of money need not hamper her. She ordered a carriage, and thus luxuriously she went about looking at rooms. She rejected all flats. She hesitated between two sets of apartments, but 88 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD finally took one on Park Street. She really knew very little of Boston, but she had an impression that this place had an odor of business, and would 'Beem as if she were engaged in an occupation, while at the same time its business odor was not too strong. To be alone in a hotel was too dreary. She took away her trunks and her terrier the next morning. Before night her easel was set up in a north room. She and Marmaduke walked back and forth through the apartments. They were furnished as if by the wholesale. " When I get a few things set round here," she thought, " I shall feel more as if I were not thrown in with the furnishing." She sat down to write to her mother. As she did so she smiled. She was thinking of Sarah Kimball in those rooms. She would be a companion, and she was her sister. "Her redundant verbs, and some other peculiari- ties, will keep me in good spirits and help me in mix- ing the right colors. And what will she do in that hotel restaurant when the waiter sets her up to the table ? Oh yes, Sarah Kimball must come." In a week Sarah Kimball did come. She brought the same trunk that Rowena had brought when she had first arrived in Mr. Little's boat cart. But Sarah Kimball did not travel in a boat cart. She entered Boston by a train of steam cars which stopped at the New York and New England station. Her sister was there to meet her, and the two were driven to Park Street in a public carriage. This was the girl's first visit, but she was not one to be overcome with sur- SARAH Kimball's caller 89 prise. She looked critically at everything on the way ; she did not as yet make any comments. She remarked, in a confidential manner, that she supposed she ought to begin to talk grammar now she was in Boston. Rowena responded that it was a good thing to talk grammar even when one was not in Boston. "You could always do it," replied Sarah Kimball, " but I hate to. I guess I know the parts of speech just as well 's anybody in Boston, but I do kinder de- spise tryin' to pick 'round among um all, and be sure that my verbs are all right. It's verbs that play the very mischief. Don't you think it's the verbs,Roweny ?" Rowena acknowledged that she thought it was the verbs. She was a trifle inattentive and absent-minded save when her sister was talking of their mother, who had insisted that Sarah Kimball should go. The younger woman, watching Rowena shrewdly, came to her own conclusions. She prattled on inces- santly, correcting herself every time she used a double negative. She said Philip Barrett had been greatly tried that she was going to leave him just when there was a chance for sleighing. But she guessed "he might take it out in being tried." The folks thought more 'n' more that Marthy S. would ketch that deacon that was shyin' up to her. This talk was flowing about Rowena as she dressed for Mrs. Sears's reception. Her companion hovered near, lending a hand now and then with the natural aptitude of a " born dress-maker." go MRS. KEATS BRADFORD She interrupted her own talk by exclamations of delight. She clasped her hands. She said that "when women got into such dresses as that she should think, for her part, that the men would go raving distracted over them." She was told that the men had become quite hard- ened, and very rarely went raving distracted from any such cause. Sarah Kimball went to the door and saw her sister in the carriage. Then she came back to the warm room and took up a book. But a book always sent her to sleep ; and it was nearly her bedtime. She sat leaning back in a luxurious chair. Marmaduke was dozing also, curled up on his hassock. It seemed to the girl that she had been dreaming for hours. She was in the midst of an accident, where the horses kicked in the dashboard of Philip's new sleigh, when the terrier leaped up with a shrill, frantic bark. The girl leaped up also with nearly as quick a motion. Marmaduke seemed crazed. He flung himself at the portiere before the outer door; he nearly pulled it from its fastenings, whining tremulously all the time. Sarah Kimball was frightened. Like all people who know little of dogs, she thought Marmaduke was mad. She was turning to run into one of the sleeping-rooms and barricade herself there when the door opened and a gentleman entered. The terrier was in his arms and all over his face instantly, in a piteous transport of happiness. It seemed as if his small body could not contain so much joy. SARAH KIMBALL'S CALLER 91 " Dear little friend ! Dear little friend !" The man repeated these words very tenderly, while his eyes, leaving Sarah Kimball, went eagerly about the room. As for the girl, she did not know this gentleman with a long mustache and short, pointed beard. She had never seen Keats Bradford in this guise. She stood up and looked bewildered. Bradford finally tucked Marmaduke under his arm and advanced to the table, behind which Sarah Kim- ball was standing. "You certainly must be her sister," he said, and held out his hand. If his beard was not recognizable his smile was. She remembered seeing and liking it when she was a child, and that time she felt was a great while ago. " It's Mr. Bradford !" she exclaimed. She gave her hand heartily. She said she was Sarah Kimball. She said she was going to stay with her sister " to be company for her." Having spoken this, she blushed at the thought that, perhaps, Mr. Bradford intended to be company for his wife, and that any added person might not be desirable. She did not quite understand about her sister and her husband. But, then, it was likely that a man and wife in the "upper crust" in Boston must be very different from the same people out in Middle Village. "Won't you take a chair?" she asked, with some shyness. " I don't know anything about when Row- eny '11 be back. She's gone to something she called 92 ' MRS. KEATS BRADFORD a reception, and I don't have the least idea how late receptions keep open. I s'pose you know." Sarah Kimball went rapidly over in her mind the words she had just used to see if her parts of speech had been right. She decided that they had been, and her spirits rose in consequence of that decision. Mr. Bradford accepted the invitation to take a ■ chair. His companion had resumed her own seat, and he drew a chair up to the other side of the table. Marmaduke had no intention of quitting him for an instant. He now perched himself on his haunches on Bradford's knee and prepared to listen to the conver- sation. "Sometimes receptions keep open rather late," said the gentleman, in response to the last remark. " Yes, I thought they must, for she didn't start till about nine." Again she mentally reviewed her sentence. She now exclaimed, " Oh, Mr. Bradford, she looked awful beautiful ! I never saw a dress hang so ; and the tail to it was — well, I never knew they had such tails to dresses." "Yes," was the response, "I can believe she looked beautiful. And," more lightly, " it is quite a common thing for gowns worn at receptions to have tails to them. I know, because I'm always afraid I shall step on one of them." "Yes," with some eagerness, "I should certainly think they'd get stepped on real often." Sarah Kimball felt that she was getting on nobly with her verbs ; her spirits rose, and it seemed almost SARAH Kimball's caller 93 as if she were in Boston society, to be sitting there conversing with such a well-dressed, distinguished- looking gentleman, even though he was her brother- in-law. She tried to make believe that he was not connected with her in any way, but had just come in to call. This make-believe was quite inspiring. " Do you know who gives the reception ?" asked Bradford. The girl fancied there was something like anxiety in his face as he put this question, and when she had answered it this look gave place to one of relief. She thought this was odd. There was now a silence. She employed it by trying to think of something suit- able to say and by stealthily watching the man's face. She thought he looked worn somehow, and he had a way of shutting his lips beneath his mustache as if he were repressing or controlling something. And he had a high kind of an air, as though no one should tell him tliat he looked worn. These fancies ran confusedly through the girl's mind as she sat with her hands folded rather primly. She wished she could make a very brilliant remark. She was sure that girls in Boston society were always mak- ing brilliant remarks. But the best she could do, after a long interval, was to say that she supposed that they had real good singing and playing in some places in Boston. 94 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD VII A VISITING SISTER " Singing and playing ?" repeated Bradford, absent- ly stroking the terrier's back. He felt that he was not doing justice to himself as a " society man." And he did have a genuine wish to make a good impression on Rowena's sister, be- sides being pleased with the girl for her own sake. No man sees a young, pretty, and unsullied face with- out a sense of pleasure. "Yes," she responded. "Ain't that what they do at receptions ? Besides a lot of talk ?" "Yes, somebody does sing, and somebody does play, sometimes. But it's mostly a lot of talk." " I should think it must be real tiresome, if they talk about their babies' having the croup, 'n' all that, same as Georgie Townshend does out to home. Row- eny got awful tired of hearin' 'bout that baby." "Did she?" said Bradford. "Well, it's just pos- sible to get awful tired at a reception here in Boston, though, of course, you mustn't ever betray that I said so." " Why not ?" asked the girl with large, questioning eyes. A VISITING SISTER 95 The gentleman smiled at her. She had an uneasy sense that it was possible he was not quite in earnest. He made no other reply than that smile. He asked about her mother and her brothers ; and, what was more, he listened to her replies. Every time she began a sentence she was very care- ful to speak correctly, but by the time she finished her eagerness to say what she wished was the cause of frequent lapses in grammar and pronunciation. At the end of half an hour she found herself con- fiding to her companion her resolve to talk grammar since she had come to Boston. She said she knew she was now in the best society. Here Bradford rose, with Marmaduke in his arms, and made his best bow to the girl. She stared an in- stant, and then laughed shrilly. " I declare," she said, " I did give you a compli- ment then, didn't I ?" " And don't spoil it by saying you didn't mean to do it," he responded. " No, I won't. But I'm in earnest now. I s'pose there ain't anybody higher 'n the Bradfords here, is there ?" " No one higher," answered the gentleman, solemn- ly, " but truth compels me to add that there are some as high." Sarah Kimball looked at her companion intently. She was not thinking of him so much as of the very great marriage her sister had made. She had never quite realized it before. She thought she realized it now. She wondered if, now she had come to Boston, 96 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD she might be as lucky. This thought made her blush deeply. Bradford had not resumed his seat. He sauntered about the room looking at the pictures, which were mostly frames, which formed a part of the furnishing. The clock struck eleven. He could not wait for Row- ena, as her return was so uncertain. He was telling Sarah Kimball this, and that he would, perhaps, call the next day, when the door opened again, the por- tifere was pulled aside, and the two turned to see Row- ena, with her cloak ready to fall, and half revealing that costume which had so excited the admiration of Sarah Kimball. This girl now had an impulse which made her retreat to her room. Rowena stood an instant in her surprise. Then she flung the cloak on a chair near her and advanced towards her husband. Bradford's face was colorless, but he was composed. The terrier was now on the floor, careering round the two. The man and woman clasped hands, and gazed at each other. Though they stood so quietly, there was something in the air about them. It was charged. Of course it was the woman who spoke first. "You are looking thin, Keats," she said, and her voice was made uneven by her quick breaths. He did not answer. It almost seemed as if he did not think it incumbent upon him to speak, as long as he might look at her. From being very white from the surprise Rowena became red from her neck to her brow. " Let us sit down," she said. Bradford led her to A VISITING SISTER 97 a seat and then stood before her. She leaned back and met his eyes again. " Oh, Keats," she said, brokenly, " have you been so unhappy ?" The man put a great restraint upon himself. His tone was almost light as he answered : " You did not leave me that I might be happy, did you ?" Then in a moment he added : " But we will not discuss that question. You know it was I who sug- gested your coming home. Let us talk of your plans. I am glad that you have your sister with you. She is very practical. She hasn't a ray of ideality. But she knows what she is about. And she is very pretty. Yes, I'm glad you thought to have her with you." Bradford added sentence to sentence, somewhat as if he were a machine. But he did not have the face of a machine. He turned and sat down opposite the table, as he had sat with Sarah Kimball. Only it was not Sarah Kimball who was with him now. As for Rowena, she did not try to respond to this somewhat voluble talk about her sister. She began slowly to pull off her gloves, her eyes fixed on her hands as she did so. She could not tell why she had such a guilty feeling running through her other emotion. She hated to feel guilty. She did hot think she had done anything to deserve that sen- sation. And this conviction made her still more re- bellious. " Did you meet many you knew at Mrs. Sears's ?" 7 98 MKS. KEATS BRADFORD Bradford felt that the inquiry was inane ; but it was the machine which put it, not himself. " You forget that I don't know any one in Boston," said Rowena. " I used to know some salesladies and a medium. I didn't meet them." "Yes, I forgot. But you used to know my cousin Vanessa. " " Yes ; she was not there. Mrs. Sears told me she was flirting with a Protestant Sisterhood." " Ah ! That accounts for the severity of her cos- tume when I last saw her." " Vanessa is so much in earnest when she flirts." Rowena smiled as she spoke thus, but she sighed also. She asked herself how long she and her husband could go on talking like this. There was a barbed point, to her, in every word. Not because of the words, but because of what there was behind them. On the carpet Marmaduke was walking aimlessly about. He could not make himself comfortable. At last he came and sat down near the two, and looked wistfully from one to the other. He also felt that the air was charged. Suddenly Bradford rose to his feet. Rowena rose also. She held her gloves tightly in one hand. " I thought I would call and say good-bye before I started," he said. " And I wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. I'm glad you have your sister with you." He said this last as if he had not said it before. " Before you started ?'' repeated Rowena. A VISITING SISTER 99 " Only to California — at first. Lister is crazy about life on his ranch, you know. I've decided to go out and try it." He did not explain that he had decided within the last two minutes. He went on : " Of course I shall enjoy it, and I've never seen much of California. I'll write you all about it. If I were an artist, I might make some sketches as memo- randa. But I'll write, and don't forget that I shall look for letters from you. Tell me what you are doing. Send me something as often as you can. You can get all the money you need at Royle's, as I arranged it before, you know." " I shall live very quietly," said Rowena, in a low voice. " No doubt you'll be awfully busy. I'm very glad that you have your sister — but I fancy I told you that before." He paused, smiling at her, and holding out his hand. As she put hers in it he said, " I saw Allestree just before I came in here. He says you have the best work in you of any one on this side the water, man or woman. I knew you'd be glad to hear that. Write to me often. Good-bye. I'll see that you have my address all the time. Tell those who inquire after me that I finally succumbed to Lister's pleading, and am going to ride to round-ups and that sort, you know. After Paris I wanted a change. It won't be a bit like Paris out there." The machine kept on talking. And the smile was still on Bradford's face. 100 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Good-bye," he said, again. " Good-bye," she responded. " Don't forget to write." " Oh no." A wavering fire seemed to come across his eyes. He dropped her hand, and went out of the room. He went down the stairs. There was something in his aspect that made the janitor in the lower hall look at him sharply. But Bradford did not see the janitor. When he got out on the sidewalk, he leaned against the wall. His head was bent to his chest. The janitor came out and looked at him again. Presently Bradford straightened himself. He drew a long, shuddering breath, and then hurried down tow- ards Tremont Street. Directly Bradford had gone, Marmaduke went to the door which had shut behind him. He snuffed at the curtain and at the threshold. Then he sat down deliberately. He put up his little black nose and gave a long, melancholy howl. Rowena sprang towards him. A sense of the in- tolerable was upon her. She cried out, sharply : " Marmaduke, for God's sake, don't do that !" She caught up the dog and put her hand over his mouth. He resented the action, and struggled in her arms. She passionately kissed the long, soft hair on the top of his head. " Don't howl ! Don't howl !" she said. " For the land's sake, Roweny, what has happened ?" Sarah Kimball had come back from some interior A VISITING SISTER lOI room, where she had been having a nap. She had not taken off her clothes. She saw that it was now mid- night. She had an exhilarating sense of dissipation. But she was also really alarmed. " It's an'awful bad sign to have a dog howl," she said. " Don't let him do it again." Rowena did not answer. She was standing in front of the portifere with the terrier held closely in her arms. Her evening dress, the drapery behind her, her attitude, made a picture of which her sister was dimly aware. " Don't let him do it again," repeated Sarah Kim- ball. "He shall howl if he wants to," now very incon- sistently responded Rowena. She spoke harshly, which was a very strange thing for her to do, and there was a huskiness in her voice. Her sister stared. Then she said, whiningly : " I'm sure I don't know what's the matter of you, Roweny. 'N ' what's the matter of the dorg ? I sh'd think you was both bewitched. What made him go on so ? I hope he don't do it often. I sh'd git 's nervous 's a witch." " It was because Keats went. Marmaduke is very fond of Keats." Rowena now spoke in a clear tone. She left her position by the curtain, and came and sat down by the table. She still kept the terrier in her arms, and she still occasionally kissed his head. Sarah Kimball sat down also. As it happened, she chose the chair so recently occupied by Bradford. 102 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " I wish you'd sit somewhere else," said Rowena. Sarah Kimball rose with a flounce. Late hours were telling upon her. " I didn't know you was ever fussy, I declare," she announced. " My head aches," said Rowena. " So does mine," said her sister. She yawned aloud. She had made up her mind not to say a word about retiring. But now she looked about her. " I s'ppose 'tain't no matter in Boston whether you go to bed or not," she said. 'N ' where's Mr. Brad- ford gone to that the dorg made such a fuss? I thought Marmaduke 'd die of joy when Mr. Bradford came; 'n' now he's goin' to die of the other thing. It does seem dreadful excitin' here in Boston. Is it always jest the same ? 'N ' when do you go to bed, any way ?" " You poor child !" said Rowena, remembering how late 9 o'clock was at home. " Why did you sit up ?" " 'Cause I wanted to git used to it," was the answer. " If I'm goin' to stay here, I've got to git broke in." "But you mustn't get 'broke in' all in one night," was the response. In a very few minutes Sarah Kimball's head was on her pillow. Rowena had kissed her cheek and said good -night. Having done so, she resumed her seat in the now solitary room, solitary save for the presence of Marmaduke. Rowena sat there long. Her eyes shone steadily through half-closed lids. Her hands lay tightly clasped together on her lap. A VISITING SISTER 103 It was nearly a week later that Rowena's studio door was opened to admit Miss Pliillipps. Rowena was at her easel. She hastily laid down brushes and palette and came forward. She thought that her visitor was looking very much like her cousin, Keats Bradford. The resemblance was always strong, but never so striking as now. Miss Phillipps had a wearied and preoccupied air. She walked to the canvas, retaining Rowena's hand, and leading her as she did so. " That is good," she said at last. She seemed to rouse herself as she said this. She glanced about the room. But her look came • back to the picture of the grist-mill, and the stream, and the trees. "Truly large," she said. "The atmosphere .is perfect. Keats said it was wonderful how you went on." When she pronounced the word " Keats," Miss Phil- lipps suddenly turned full upon her companion. " Do you know where he is ?" " Certainly. He has gone to Mr. Lister's ranch in California." Rowena spoke quite proudly. It was absurd to be asked if she knew where her husband was. Miss Phillipps, in these later days, was often absent and cool. But she had sudden accesses of tenderness when with Rowena. She had one now. She moved very near her. She gave one of her smiles — one of the soft and brilliant kind that had once made Rowe- na tremble witli happiness. They made her tremble 104 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD no longer, but they still went to her heart in a way she sometimes felt like resenting. " Who can blame you ?" asked Miss Phillipps. " If I had been given a talent I am sure I should wish to use it. I would use it. It isn't so much matter whether one is happy or not. But it is a great matter if one lets one's self rust. You won't rust. So Keats has gone out to that ranch. I'm sorry to say he neg- lected to tell me. And I want to know what to say when people ask me. Rowena, you are absorbed in that picture, I see. Yes, I certainly want to know what to say to people when they ask me." Rowena angrily moved away a few steps. "You speak as if you were arranging a plan." Miss Phillipps contemplated her companion a mo- ment in silence. Her brows were arched a little as if in inquiry. But she said nothing more on the subject, perhaps for the reason that some one entered the studio. This some one was Sarah Kimball, who came in from a rapid walk over the Common and back. Her sister had already provided her with a street suit, which was appropriate and simple-looking, far too sim- ple thoroughly to please its wearer. Miss Phillipps turned about and fixed her eyes on this new-comer. Her steady glance was returned with the most open curiosity. Sarah Kimball wished to say " I declare " aloud, but she restrained herself. " It is my sister," said Rowena. Sarah Kimball advanced and took the lady's hand. " How de do ?" she said, " I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." A VISITING SISTER 105 Miss Phillipps murmured something. The girl went on to her own room. " She is very much like you, only prettier," Miss Phillipps said, frankly. " She is certainly prettier," was Rowena's response. " But she is not interesting, as you always were," went on Miss Phillipps, with equal frankness. " I suppose her atmosphere is not attractive. It all de- pends on the atmosphere, you know ; the nimbus, the aureola, for which you are not responsible, but which is more you than you are yourself," " Yes," said Rowena, thinking that perhaps her friend was dropping the Episcopal Sisterhood, and taking up something more mysterious. She was pres- ently undeceived. " I've not told you that I am on probation, have If" said Miss Phillipps. " No." " Life," went on the other lady, " seems hardly worth living just for one's own whims. And to live for others one must abide by a certain set of laws, a system ; don't you think, Rowena, it must be so ?" She did not wait for any answer. She went on to explain that a sisterhood that did not mean a nunnery, that only meant religious devotion and doing good, must be the highest kind of life. " I haven't joined yet, but I insisted upon putting myself partially under their rules ; experimentally, you know. It must be that a real peace will come when you needn't think any more about your gowns, and when you are called Sister Mary Francesca, or some- 106 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD thing of the sort. If I seem to speak lightly it is not because I feel so. I'm going to visit the Homoeopath- ic Hospital to-day, and I want to take you with me. Let us think of others' woes. It is good for us to think of others' woes." As she ceased speaking, Miss Phillipps suddenly put a hand on each of Rowena's shoulders, and looked fully in her face. " You are baffling because you are clear,'' she ex- claimed, after an instant's intent gaze. "And yet, dear, I do know you. Come with me. It will do those suffering people good to see you. And it will not harm you to see them." Rowena laid aside her brushes and prepared to go out. But she did not wish to go. She lingered a moment looking at her picture. She was inwardly telling herself that she would not again be taken from her work in this way. She found that Miss Phillipps had not come in her carriage ; and that person explained that she would make use of a horse-car as a sort of penance, "in place of ahair-shirt, or peas in my shoes, you know," she said. In spite of all her efforts, Rowena remained some- what absent in mind until they entered the hospital. Evidently her companion had been there before. The nurse seemed to know her. And Rowena was sur- prised at the winning, sympathetic gentleness which suddenly seemed to take possession of this woman. She asked herself why she should be surprised at any attraction she found Vanessa to possess. Her own A VISITING SISTER 107 heart began to ache painfully as she walked along by the clean, narrow beds and met the eyes turned tow- ards her. She stopped and bent over this one and that. But she could hardly find a word to say. Once she murmured : "Oh, I'm so SOTry!" and the woman lying there thrust forward a sudden hand and caught hers. This was by the open door of the ward. As she stood there thus detained, a stretcher was borne along the hallway. A man was on the stretcher. His face was ghast- ly. As he passed he turned and looked at her. Rowena moved forward with a swift movement of pity and sympathy. She extended her hands uncon- sciously. " Stop !" said the man to his bearers. It was Robert Soule. He put out his hands and took Rowena's. " Absurd accident," he said. " I was knocked over in the street as if I'd been a gamin, only a gamin is never hurt if he is knocked over. Don't know yet how many bones are broken. The doctors are going at me now. Let me have your prayers," with a slight smile. He paused a moment. Then he added : " And if here's an end of me, I'm glad yours is one of the last faces I see, Mrs. Bradford. Go on," to the men. Rowena was standing there unnaturally still when she was joined in a few minutes by Miss Phillipps. Then she turned. I08 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Did you see him ?" she asked. " See whom ?" " Mr. Soule. He's been hurt, and they've brought him here." " I thought he was in the South." Miss Phillipps scanned her companion as if she doubted her sanity. " He looked as if he were dying," said Rowena. Miss Phillipps turned shortly. She went to some authority. At last she came back and found Rowena where she had left her. " It's true," said Miss Phillipps. " It was Mr. Soule. But it's not known yet how much he is hurt." SOME HOSPITAL VISITS 109 VIII SOME HOSPITAL VISITS The two women went silently down into the street. If Miss Phillipps had come to the hospital in any light mood, that mood did not rule her now. But, though she was thinking of Robert Soule as, perhaps, dying there, she was thinking of some ramifications of that subject still more strongly. She had not seen Soule's face as he lay on the stretcher, and what one has not seen does not cut so deeply. But Rowena had seen it. It was the first time in her life that she had been in the presence of Death, or of any of Death's kin- dred. To her Soule had been almost the same as dead, only that he still spoke to her and looked at her. Her sensitive spirit was deeply touched. Even her breath was affected. She exclaimed aloud : " Oh, hasn't he a sister, or anybody to be with him now ? Must he die alone ?" Miss Phillipps passed her arm through her compan- ion's. The two hurried along. " He may not die," she said, " and he is used to be- ing alone." She hesitated and then asked, " Will you come here with me to-morrow .■" It will be only humane for us to make inquiries." no MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Yes, I was coming," answered Rowena. Miss Phillipps glanced at her. " You should be more hard. You always would let yourself be played on too much, Rowena." " Since I am not hysterical, please let me be as I choose." Rowena made this response more coldly than she had ever spoken to Miss Phillipps. She was quite treniorless, but she had a strange aspect to the eyes looking at her. When Miss Phillipps was puzzled she was quite liable to be angry. She was conscious now of an im- pulse to shake the arm she held. She felt this im- pulse just as if she had been some kitchen-maid, instead of Vanessa Phillipps, of Boston. Only, not be- ing a kitchen - maid, she controlled her plebeian desire. The two stopped and waited for a coming horse- car. Miss Phillipps signalled it as if she were calling up a chariot. But there needed a great deal of im- agination to make the car seem like a chariot. The woman crowded up against Miss Phillipps had on her lap a salt codfish, which odorated quite unmistakably; and as if the odor were not enough, the brown paper about it had become unfastened as to the tail, and also as to the portion where the head had once been attached. No one in the vehicle could possibly be ignorant of the presence of that codfish. The owner and the carrier of it was, perhaps, the only person who seemed unconscious of it. Miss Phillipps occupied the time in trying to hold SOME HOSPITAL VISITS In her breath and then in yielding to the imperative de- mand for a longer inspiration than usual. When they left the car she said she was going to Rowena's rooms, for she wanted to smell paint for a little while. «* In the studio they found Mrs. Sears sitting, while Sarah Kimball was showing the lady various sketches, commenting and explaining as she did so. " I've been having what I call a real good time," said the elder lady to Rowena, "and if you hadn't come just now I should soon have got through with all your pictures, with explanations by Miss Tuttle. It was almost as fine as a magic-lantern show.'' " And I've had a good time, too," Sarah Kimball hastened to announce. The girl was perfectly at her ease. She had not been awed by the visitor, and she had had unusual control of her subjects and predi- cates. She was in high spirits. " But what on earth has happened to you, Rowena ? You're jest as pale as ashes." " We have been to the hospital," answered Rowena. " What have you been there for ?" rather severely inquired Mrs. Sears. "You took her, Vanessa, of course. Hospitals are in your line now, I believe — and slums, possibly." " Yes, I took her," calmly answered Miss Phillipps. " She is not a baby who must not see disagreeable things." "There is no use on earth of seeing disagreeable things if you can't modify them," said Mrs. Sears. " She can modify them. You should have seen 113 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD how these women looked up at her when she bent over their cots." Rowena did not hear what was said. She had flung off her wraps, and was standing near Mrs. Sears's chair, where she could look at the canvas on her easel. The sight of it did her good. She wanted to take her paints and brush. She thought she would put a little more yellow into that sky. Then she sud- denly remembered how she had been sitting on that fallen tree by the stream in the picture one early fall day. And Philip Barrett had brought her his cap full of the first chestnuts of the season. Even then she had wished she could paint the ruin of the mill and that tumultuous brook. And that was a thousand years ago. She heard her two guests talking. Miss Phillipps was telling about Mr. Soule, whom Mrs. Sears did not know. Sarah Kimball cried out as soon as she found an opportunity, " That must be their Mr. Soule," and that though he was not handsome he had " awful pretty ways.'' She did hope he was not hurt much. It happened that Miss Phillipps sent round word that she could not go to the hospital the next day, and Rowena and her sister went, walking out there in the crisp winter air. They were told that unless some complications arose, " Mr. Soule would get over it." But that he would have his patience tried a good deal before he got out again. Sarah Kimball, on their walk back, expressed vol- SOME HOSPITAL VISITS "3 uble satisfaction. She could not bear to think of those pretty ways being extinguished. She asked if it would be proper to carry Mr. Soule some "jell." Out Middle Village way jell was usually taken in by the neighbors for any kind of misfortune that was not purely spiritual. The next day, and the next, it was found that the girl still clung to her idea. She even went out alone, unknown to her sister, and made inquiries concerning Mr. Soule's condition, and as to the time when he could probably absorb jell. She came back quite elated. She had not only learned what she wished to know, but she had seen Mr. Soule. Rowena looked at her in amazement. " Don't do that again," she said. Sarah Kimball pouted. She swung her cap around on the tip of her finger. She said she guessed she knew what was proper as well as anybody. And if Rowena had seen how glad Mr. Soule had been to see her, she wouldn't look so cross. And she had promised to go again the next day. She was going to carry him something, grapes or flowers ; for he had said he didn't care for jell. She had asked him. He was awful pale.. He told her he had just missed crossing the great divide. Did he mean dying ? Yes, Rowena thought that was what he meant. Sarah Kimball sat down. Her sister had never seen her face show such absorbed interest. " I don't see why you should go and make a fuss about nothing," said the girl. 8 114 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Rowena touched up one of the rocks by the brook in her picture. She stepped back to see the effect. " I'm not making any fuss," she said. " Yes, you be too. I mean you are. And I prom- ised to go again to-morrow. 'N' I shall go. He'd be real disappointed if I didn't. You're jest as hard- hearted 's you can be. You c'n stay here 'n' paint, but I sh'll go." There was silence now for a moment or two. Rowena put one brush between her lips and took up another, which she gently put into some white on her palette. It did not appear that she had heard what her sister had just said. Sarah Kimball gazed at her. A deep frown gath- ered on her face as she did so. She moved about the room with some violence. She upset a chair and made a great deal of noise putting it in place again. Still the figure in front of the easel did not appear to no- tice. " I declare !" said Sarah Kimball at last, and very explosively. Rowena turned now and made an absent-sounding, interrogative murmur. " I declare," repeated the girl. " I don't wonder Mr. Bradford's gone to California." Rowena reddened, and her eyes flashed. " What do you mean ?" she asked. " I mean you ain't no company for anybody. It's enough to make anybody jest crazy to sit here 'n' see you steppin' round in front of that easel. It makes me want to yell. 'N' you don't care for a thing but SOME HOSPITAL VISITS 115 them nasty paints that smell enough to knock a per- son down." It was quite evident that Sarah Kimball was what she would have called " mad." She now bounced into her own room. Her sister stood a moment. Then she went on with her work. But her eyes were clouded. After a few moments, however, she had apparently forgotten what had passed. She was getting the effect she de- sired. The sky above the old grist-mill now had that melting, near softness of the August day she had chosen for her picture. A thrill of delight ran through her heart. It was now that Sarah Kimball returned to the room. She had been meditating upon her conduct and was ashamed. She went up to her sister and put her arms around her waist. " I'm real sorry I got so mad," she said, penitently. Rowena turned questioning, ignorant eyes upon her companion. Sarah Kimball drew away abruptly. She was more hurt than she wished to acknowledge. " My sakes !" she said, in a whisper. She did not try to say any more. She walked into the next room, and sat down with a book in her hand. It was nearly two hours later, and when Sarah Kimball had long since been deadly tired of her book, that Rowena came in looking weary, but with eyes full of light. She was very gentle. "I'm sorry I was so stupid," she said, kissing her sister's cheek. " I hope you'll forgive me," Il6 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD The girl had been intent upon hardening her heart with every moment that had passed. But one look in the face bending over her made her start up and give the owner of that face " a good hug." "And you are willing I should go and see Mr. Soule?" said Sarah Kimball, who never gave up a point. " I will go with you," was the reply. And the two went. Rowena noticed that Mr. Soule seemed more glad to see her sister. His pleasure at sight of them had something pathetic in it. The man of the world made his present weakness a weapon of strength. He was very pale and very interesting. But he had not the slightest appearance of making capital of that weakness. He listened with almost piteous eagerness to all they said. He often held the flowers they brought to his face. He scarcely looked at Rowena until the two rose to go. " You have no idea what a baby an affair like this makes of a man," he said. " I really will not say but that I shall cry. if you do not promise to come every visiting day until I'm off my back. Miss Tuttle, you wouldn't make me cry ?" He was so pallid, his eyes were so hollow and be- seeching, that Sarah Kimball at this canj^ very near crying herself. " Yes, indeed, I will come," she said, earnestly. There was such a contrast between Robert Soule alert, well-dressed, with what one woman had once described as " divine manners," and Robert Soule as SOME HOSPITAL VISITS 117 he lay there now, that Rowena could hardly adjust his identity in her own mind. And, somehow, she did not like to be so moved as she was by the sight of him and by.the sound of his faint voice. She could not do otherwise than echo her sister's promise. And she knew if Sarah Kimball came, she must come also. Contrary to Rowena's expectation, her sister said very little about Mr. Soule when they had left him. She did not seem disposed to talk on any subject. She did say, however, that she thought it would be a perfect shame not to visit folks that were in the hos- pital. By folks she meant one man. She wrote a long letter to her mother. She took extreme pains with the crimping of her hair. She asked her sister if she did not think the second day's crimp was more becoming than the first; that is, in winter, when it wasn't damp, and one's hair stayed in a friz. She said she wished to arrange so that her hair should look its best on "hospital days." She "presumed" that Mr. Soule did not notice; but there was always a chance that he would notice. Rowena heard this in a kind of irritated amuse- ment. She scrupulously replied to every question, and she was glad that her sister was not inclined to talk. The two sat alone that evening. The girl hoped some one would call. She had supposed that some one called every evening in Boston, or you went out to something. She had pictured to herself a circle of young men always ready to admire and to take one to Il8 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD the theatre. She would like to go to the theatre, and yet have the hospital episodes for a kind of interest- ing background. As for Rowena, she being married, did not, of course, care any more for plays and concerts. If it had not been for the hospital visits, Sarah Kimball would have had a very dull time the next two or three weeks. She said to herself, and she wrote to her mother, that Roweny didn't seem to know any- thing. "She jest painted." Which was true. That is, it was true that she just painted. She was possessed. She looked with introverted, anxious eyes at her sister when Sarah Kimball addressed her , she seemed to be trying scrupulously to hear what was said to her and to answer reasonably. The young girl used to stroll through the streets by herself. She had her fill of looking in at the shop windows. But she told herself that she wished she " could see some young folks." Rowena went with her to the hospital, but she went nowhere else, save to the hotel restaurant where the two had their meals. One afternoon, while Sarah Kimball was standing on Winter Street and looking in at the window of a glove-store, wishing for some light tan gloves that looked as if they would cover the whole arm, a man came slowly along the pavement. He was dressed in a very ornamental manner, and he was making a busi- ness of looking closely at all the girls who came with- in his range of vision. When he saw Sarah Kimball he stopped suddenly. SOME HOSPITAL VISITS 119 He leaned up against the wall as if he were waiting for some one. But he did not cease from a sly ex- amination of the girl near him. As for her, she con- tinued looking at the gloves. Presently a hand slightly touched her arm. A man raised his hat with a flourish. " Pardon me, but is this yours ?" extending a hand- kerchief. No, it was not hers. The girl blushed . It was de- lightful to have a gentleman swing his hat off to her like that. But she was a very little frightened at the intentness of his gaze. She wanted to shrink away. She saw what a magnificent watch-chain was draped across the man's waistcoat. " It isn't mine," she repeated. He said " pardon me " again, and walked away. When the girl strolled back towards Park Street she felt some way as if she had been part of one of those novels that she saw in the railway stations. She told her sister of the incident, which seemed an adventure to her. Rowena was walking back and forth through the suite of rooms. It was too dark to paint. She gave an angry exclamation when she heard the girl's recital. " I hope you ain't mad," said Sarah Kimball, pertly. " He was jest as respectful as he could be. And as for that, it does seem as if I must speak to somebody. You ain't no better 'n a stick of wood most the time," concluded the girl, with extreme frankness. Perhaps Sarah Kimball would have felt still more I20 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD as if she were part of a novel if she had known that the man who had spoken to her on Winter Street had kept watch of her and knew where she entered. Rowena, standing at the window when her sister had crossed the street, had seen a figure which awak- ened some vague and quickly-fleeting memories in her mind. But she did not connect that figure with the recital just given by Sarah Kimball. Conscience-smitten by the girl's words, Rowena went swiftly up to her companion, who melted im- mediately. "You dear little thing!" said Rowena, tenderly. "It is too -bad. But I do get so absorbed. I sup- pose I am really nothing but a machine which knows one thing. I will try to do better." But it was just as bad the next day. Rowena said it was a " good light." Sarah Kimball could not help groaning. She knew that a good light meant that, as she had said, she might as well be with a stick of wood. For three more weeks the visits to Mr. Soule were absolutely all that varied the monotony to those resi- dents on Park Street. But the weeks sped on wings for Rowena. She refused every invitation. At the end of that time her picture was finished and taken to an art exhibition on Tremont Street. Then came^ the reaction. And it is the reactions which are dan- gerous. The subtle, not unpleasant languor consequent upon the sense of having well finished a beloved piece of work, was upon Rowena. She was leaning luxuriously among the cushions of a couch. There was an odor SOME HOSPITAL VISITS 121 of sweet lilies in the room. Possibly this country- bred woman had learned to appreciate some of the refined, sensuous delights which wealth places with- in one's reach. Very refined those delights must be to appeal to the possessor of that face among the cushions. It was while Rowena sat thus, not thinking, not even dreaming, only indolently and happily alive, that her sister came in with the bustle and alertness nearly always inseparable from her presence. " I guess yoii are at leisure, ain't you, Roweny ? You certainly don't seem to be doing anything." The girl's face was radiant. Rowena raised herself on one elbow. " Yes, I'm at leisure," answered Rowena, " but I'm not receiving any one this afternoon." Sarah Kimball had not yet learned to believe it possible that any one could be at home and yet not see any person who might come. Out in the country you would never be forgiven if you were not entirely at the mercy of any caller. When Rowena had spoken thus, a voice just out- side the curtain said in deprecating tones, " Don't send me away, Mrs. Bradford." MRS. KEATS BRADFORD IX MISS PHILLIPPS THINKS OF CAStONS Mrs. Bradford was conscious of some sense of ir- ritation when she heard this voice, which she did not recognize. Whom had her sister brought ? The portibre was immediately drawn aside, and Mr. Soule entered, very pale, very weak and thin-looking, and leaning on a cane. But his face was undeniably brilliant as his hostess met and greeted him cordially. He sat down quickly when Rowena had resumed her own seat. " You see I have escaped," he said. His eyes were large and black, they had in them a wistful, child-like expression, and Rowena hardly liked to meet them. She did not fully realize that this look was there because he had been ill and was still weak, and that it by no means betokened any- thing child-like in his character. His pallor, too, in contrast with his inky hair and mustache, was some- thing startling. ' Rowena's voice unconsciously assumed a certain tender consideration. Mr. Soule leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands on the top of his stick. MISS PHILLIPPS THINKS OF CANONS 1 23 " Of course I came here first," he said. " I wanted to thank you." " I have earned no thanks," was the response. " Oh, I didn't expect you to be conscious that you ought to be thanked. It is not because of what you have done — it is because — " Here he bent forward with an appearance of uncon- trollable earnestness. "It is because you are what you are, Mrs. Brad- ford. Do you think a man who is blessed with your friendship— may I not say friendship ? — do you think such a man doesn't feel like thanking God ?" " You have been ill and you exaggerate, Mr. Soule," said Rowena, gently. " I have been so near the other world that I dare to be sincere," he responded. Mr. Soule was always very impressive. He was more so now than Rowena had ever seen him. Moved by some inexplicable restlessness, Rowena half rose from her seat and reached forward to the table where stood the vase holding the great bunch of odorous lilies. She detached one of the flowers from its companions and bent her face over it. Not only was she restless, but an indefinite indignation was growing within her. It was as if she were in some kind of a false position. And yet her reason told her that such was not the case. Robert Soule was preternaturally keen concerning the moods of women. He had not, with his natural gifts to aid him, devoted a good many years to the study of them without arriving at great skill. Besides, 124 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD he was sometimes a little feminine in the possession of something like intuition. His appearance changed. He could not be other- wise than impressive, however, when with a woman. He smiled, and said, lightly : " You like my lilies ?" Rowena flushed as she answered, quickly, with an- other question : " Are they yours ?" " They were mine for the space of five minutes after I got them at the florist's. I was so foolish as to want you to guess that I sent them." " You see, I was not Yankee enough to guess correctly. I thought they came from Miss Phil- lipps." Rowena held the bloom a moment longer; then, with a hesitating, deprecating movement, she laid it onihe table. She knew there was a certain rudeness in her action, but she was impelled to it by a feeling she could not resist. Having done so, she looked up and met Mr. Soule's gaze. There was a smile on his lips, but there was no smile in his eyes. " The perfume is very powerful," she said, in a low voice. She was glad that Sarah Kimball now returned from her own room, where she had been to remove her jacket and hat, and to see if her hair was right. This was the successful second day of her crimps, and it appeared to her as if they were in perfect condition. She was assuredly very pretty now, as she advanced MISS PHILLIPPS THINKS OF CANONS 1 25 towards where her sister sat, and placed herself near her. It was evident that the gentleman present did not try to conceal his admiration for Mrs. Bradford's young sister. His face almost sparkled as he saw her. He was going to rise to place a chair for her, but he found himself too weak to move quickly. He made a gesture of self-mockery as he sank back. Rowena was amazed to perceive that from the mo- ment of Sarah Kimball's entrance she herself became but a mere third person. Not that Mr. Soule was not attentive to her, but for the first time in her acquaint- ance with him she imagined that she detected a hint of something perfunctory in that attention. This was a new experience. She could hardly believe in the reality. She covertly watched her sister. Sarah Kim- ball seemed to twitter and preen herself like a bird who knows it is admired. She chattered like a bird, also. Rowena had never heard her talk so correctly. And there was a kind of charm in the fresh chatter. Sarah Kimball was shallow, but she was not " flat." She had a share of shrewdness that prevented flat- ness. Rowena could not help being amused by her comments upon what she had seen of Boston. The girl was never awed by anything. She had no rever- ence. The metallic, Yankee twang of her voice filled the room. Suddenly Mr. Soule looked at his watch with the air of a man who had entirely forgotten the flight of time. " I have been here an hour," he said. " Can you 126 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD forgive me, Mrs. Bradford, and allow me to come again soon ? I can't ask anybody else to tolerate me while I'm an invalid. I ask you because you are so kind you can't refuse." Sarah Kimball was inwardly angry that he should put this question to her sister instead of to her. Wasn't it plain enough that he had come to see her ? A young man out at home would not ask somebody else if he could come again. She was almost sombre when she bade Mr. Soule good-bye. But she was secretly very much pleased with the way in which he bent over her hand. She had never had any one bend over her hand in that manner before. She wished that some folks near Middle Village could have seen her and Mr. Soule then. She walked restlessly about the room. Presently she became conscious that her sister's eyes were fol- lowing her with a look in them that she did not like. She went and stood before Rowena. " I hope you ain't jealous," said Sarah Kimball. A very decided fire came into the elder's eyes. " Jealous ?" said Rowena, with a cold scorn which made the girl writhe with indignation. Rowena did not control her eyes, but she allowed no fire in her voice. " Ygs," said Sarah Kimball, in a raised tone. " Don't you think I remember how Mr. Soule seemed to be worshipping you that time he called to home, there ? He didn't do anything or say anything, but he was worshipping, all the same. You know I didn't think you was to blame, but I did say I should think Mr. MISS PHILLIPPS THINKS OF CANONS 127 Bradford 'd be mad. Of course, you liked it. You couldn't help it. Now he's takin' notice of me, I guess you don't exactly relish it. But, you see, I ain't mar- ried, 'n' if I'm a mind to go with Mr. Soule, I s'pose 'tain't nobody's business." " Go with Mr. Soule 1" ejaculated Rowena. She was quite helpless for a moment. "Yes," went on Sarah Kimball, still in that loud voice which the undisciplined use in excitement. " You needn't pretend you don't know what goin' with him means." " Oh, I know very well what it means," returned Rowena, growing more calm in appearance, in contrast with the turbulent face and voice of her sister. " What you mean, then .'" almost shouted the girl. "Ain't you willin'?" Rowena now found herself in the position of one who, if she said " no " to that question, said it because she was "jealous." The word stung her almost be- yond endurance. And yet she must say no. She could not account to herself for the great alarm she felt at this glimpse of the possibilities of the future. " No," she said, " I'm not willing." Sarah Kimball stood quivering. " I didn't expect you'd be so mean's that," she said. She put her hands over her face. Her shoulders moved up and down. She turned and ran out of the room. Rowena rose. She stood looking about her with a startled question in her face. 128 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Mr. Soule going with her !" she exclaimed, with bitterness. In a moment, and again aloud, " Oh, what shall I do?" She moved towards the door through which her sis- ter had passed. But in the doorway she hesitated. She felt like one groping in the dark. What should she say to Sarah Kimball ! A scorching suspicion now suddenly came to her that the girl might have seen Mr. Soule more fre- quently than she knew. They were certainly on very good terms with each other. It was terrible to think that Sarah Kimball might fancy herself " in love " with that man. Rowena knew very well that she could not judge her sister in the least by what she herself had been at that age. Her thoughts, her dreams, her aspirations had been as utterly unlike what those of Sarah Kim- ball seemed to be as if the two were not of the same species. She must not commit the error of seeming to oppose the child too strongly. She knew that op- position strengthened love as persecution made strong- er the faith of the old martyrs. And she had never known Sarah Kimball to give up a point as a child. Do you think it was singular that it did not occur to Rowena that Mr. Soule might be genuinely attracted to her sister ? The possibility did occur to her, but only to be banished as an impossibility. Not that she under- estimated Sarah Kimball's charms. That he might be in love with the girl did not make the situation MISS PHILLIPPS THINKS OF CANONS I29 much better in Rowena's mind. How should she ever face her mother if any unhappiness came to her charge ? And she had been absorbed in her work. She must amuse the girl more. She wondered what Keats would say to this situa- tion. She put her hand in her pocket and drew out the letter that had come from her husband that morn- ing. As she stood with it unfolded in her hand, recalling, without looking at its pages, the friendly interest of his words, she experienced a sense of com- fort mingled with a sense of something which she could not analyze. It was a long letter. It gave in detail the daily ex- periences of the writer. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He said the rough, out-of-door life was just what he needed for a time. He sent a small photo- graph of himself "in leather." He had forgotten how to wear evening dress. Rowena had this picture in her hand when some one came forward from the outer door. "I've been knocking," said Miss Phillipps, "but when a person is daubing with paints what can one expect.' Do you know, people are going to see that canvas of yours at Doll's. There are paragraphs about it in the papers. And paragraphs," sarcasti- cally, "you know, are the beginning of fame. Pres- ently millionaires who wish to have a reputation for love of art will be collecting ' Bradfords.' " " Don't laugh at me," said Rowena. " But I shall paint even if no one ever collects Bradfords." 9 130 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Miss Phillipps put out her hand and took the pho- tograph from her companion. " I heard from Keats this morning,'' she said. " This looks as if he were trying to be a cowboy. There must be a great charm in leather trousers with fringe down the outer seams. Such trousers, I imagine, have healed many a wounded masculine heart. Let us hope they will perform that office for Keats." Rowena was silent. Miss Phillipps still held the bit of card. She was not dressed in as severe black as she had worn of late. There was an indefinable suggestion of a change of mood in her appearance. She suddenly turned about and walked to the table, where she deposited the card. She looked troubled. She said the lilies were very sweet. She asked where that little sister was, and she did not hear the reply. She remarked that Boston seemed to her insufferably dull. She used to think that if one could be interested anywhere in the world it was in Boston. And Europe was getting just as bad. She now approached Rowena again. She made this seemingly irrelevant remark : " It is very silly to be proud." Rowena insensibly drew back a little. She was afraid oi Vanessa, whose eyes seemed to see into her heart. And she had once been so happy because they could see thus. She in- voluntarily put out her hands as if to ward off some- thing. Her hands were taken and held. " Can you guess where I am going." " No." MISS PHILLIPPS THINKS OF CANONS 131 " I am going where I can ride horseback as Isa- bella Bird used to ride ; where divided skirts shall be to me what fringe is to the owner of buckskin trousers." As she spoke, Miss Phillipps was aware that the hands she held were growing cold in her grasp. "You see," said Miss Phillipps, laughing, "I have never yet ridden up and down canons. It is an ex- perience I crave. I want to get away from culture and near to Nature." " And the sisterhood ?" " That was too limited, I found ; too cramping. Row- ena, listen to me. Dear, you used to listen to me." The old cadence in the tone made Rowena flush'. " I am listening," she answered, inwardly bracing herself. " Will you go to California with me ?" Rowena withdrew her hands with some abruptness. " No," she said again. " You still wish to stay here and work ?" " Certainly. I am not fickle." In spite of herself, Rowena put a slight emphasis on that personal pronoun. "And is your work all the reason you have for not going?" - There was something. in Rowena's mind which she could not have told. She drew herself up. " Vanessa, don't catechise me,", she said. " Pardon me," responded the other. And to herself she said, " There is another reason." " Do you go soon ?" inquired Rowena. " I start to-night." 132 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD A sudden fear, like that we sometimes experience in dreams, came upon Rowena. Her eyes dilated and then filled with tears. She made a quick step towards Miss Phillipps, and put her arm over that lady's neck and her head down on her shoulder. " Don't go !" she whispered. Miss Phillipps's own eyes suffused. She always wondered why Rowena could move her so. She drew her closer. She said to herself that her cousin Keats must have a great deal of resolution to go away, and more still to stay away. What if his wife were ab- sorbed in painting? There were worse evils than painting in the world. She wished she knew a good many things at that moment. Keats was so superla- tively sensitive, and so ridiculously chivalrous. If he were a tyrant now — The thoughts in the woman's mind ran on until they reached a state of inextricable confusion. Then she tried to stop thinking, and she asked again, "Will you go with me ?" She kissed Rowena's lips. They were trembling. But straightway Rowena got herself in hand. She stood upright She smiled. " You see," she said, " that even a woman who dares to want a career sometimes becomes nervous and tired." " And I hoped," said Miss Phillipps, " that you put your arm about my neck because you still loved me, and because you were sorry I was going. Now you wish me to believe it was only nerves. I would rather think it was affection." MISS PHILLIPPS THINKS OF CANONS I33 " It must have been affection," returned Rowena ; and she added : " It is very confusing to be a woman." " So it is," said Miss Phillipps; "but I find it also immensely interesting. One is continually curious as to what one will feel next." "There ain't anything the matter, is there ?" asked a high voice. Sarah Kimball always wished to see every one who came to her sister's rooms. She had heard the voices for some minutes, but at first her curiosity had been held in check by the excitement under which she had fled to her room. Now, however, she came forward alertly. She nodded affably at Miss Phillipps. She inquired if anybody was sick. She looked at her sis- ter, and said that she hoped there wasn't anything to cry about. She gave one the idea that she had sub- jects to cry about, if she would only let herself do it. Miss Phillipps was very cool and nonchalant with this girl, who looked like Rowena, only prettier, and who was not " interesting.'' She said good-bye to her shortly ; but she was tender in her parting with Rowena. " I hope she makes fuss enough about you !" re- marked the girl, when the lady had gone. " But folks always did kinder make a fuss about you." She was very much out of sorts. She flung herself in and out of a chair. She was indignant that her sister did not look at her. She should think Roweny might be contented with all the notice she got. She glanced at her sister, who was sitting perfectly quiet, with one hand' shading her eyes. She looked exhausted. 134 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " She was always awful odd," said the girl to her- self. Then her affection rose uppermost. " I guess you're tired, ain't you ?" she asked, solicit- ously. Rowena roused herself. Her eyes dwelt kindly on the figure before her. " You must have had "a dull time Tiere," she said. "We will see more people ; we will go out more." "Can't we go to the theatre ?" asked Sarah Kim- ball, clasping her hands. " I should like to go there a lot. But I guess I don't care for what you call so- ciety, if it's like that Miss Phillipps and the Sears woman " — thus disrespectfully of Mrs. Appleton-Sears. " But if it is like Mr. Soule ?" returned Rowena. Sarah Kimball blushed. " That's dif'rent," she said. Rowena thought she had never felt so nearly at the end of her resources. She thought of her mother and the boys in the old farm-house. She almost wished she were there with them. Only the puzzles and com- plexities of life would follow. But for the moment she did wish that Sarah Kimball were there, and that Sa- rah Kimball had never left the shelter of that roof. She felt to the full how powerless one is before a small mind when the small mind is persistent. " I s'pose, then," said the girl, " that if we're going out more, you won't begin another picture right away." And this girl also ! The stars in their courses seemed really to be fighting against her. A fierce rebellion rose in her heart, but she stified MISS PHILLIPPS THINKS OF CANONS 135 it. She felt as if she were slaying some lovely live thing when she replied, calmly, " No, not just yet." She rose and walked into, her own room. She shut the door and locked it. An iron bolt was needed to keep her sister out, for she might have a fancy to walk in, without even a preliminary knock. Rowena had a sense, indeed, as if she were hedged in by relentless circumstances. Her thoughts immediately wandered to Miss Phil- ■ lipps, and dwelt upon her with singular insistence. She looked at her watch ; it was yet four hours be- fore that evening western-bound train would start. A moment later Rowena was in her sister's room. Sarah Kimball had just arranged her hair in a nev/ way, and she was standing with her back to the long mirror, while she held a hand-glass before her face, and was twisting this way and that to get different views of her back hair and her profile. " Ruther becoming, ain't it, Roweny?" she asked. But her sister did not answer. She asked another question quickly. " I've been thinking, Sarah Kimball, that perhaps you would enjoy a journey. You never have been anywhere, you know. Would you like to take a trip West ? We might go with Miss Phillipps." The girl put down her hand-glass and looked keen- ly at the face near her. "No," she said, "I guess I don't want to go; I guess I'd a good deal ruther stay here 'n' go round. You know I ain't been round in Boston 's you have, 136 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD anyhow. But if 'tain't convenient for you to have me here, you c'n send me home, you know." " It's perfectly convenient," returned Rowena, "and we will go to the theatre to-night. Let us look at the announcements." Sarah Kimball, now radiantly amiable, selected, af- ter much talk, the Hollis Street Theatre. Mrs. Sears had offered her box in that playhouse to Rowena. A messenger- boy was sent round to ask if the two might occupy it that evening. When the girl had given the last look at herself in her pale pink opera-cloak, which Rowena had pro- vided, she walked like a peacock to the door. Hav- ing settled her skirts in the carriage, she remarked that she guessed Mr. Soule wouldn't be well enough yet to go to the play. She evidently wished that Mr. Soule might see her in that cloak. If Mr. Soule were well enough, he was not there. But there was some one in the orchestra who was greatly interested in Mrs. Sears's box. This person was a man who often put his opera-glass to his eyes to look at the two in the box. Then he would turn and say something to his companion, who was a young woman. At last, at the end of the second act, the man rose. In a few minutes he appeared at the door behind Rowena and her sister ; but he did not seem to see her sister at all. His face was very eager, and at the same time it was doubtful. " I don't know as you can forgive me. Miss Rowena Tuttle," he said, " but it did seem as if I must speak to you." MARMADUKES ADVENTURE 137 marmaduke's adventure RowENA looked in a bewildered manner in the man's face. There was something familiar in it, but it was so florid, so bearded, so prosperous that she could not attach it to a name. " You don't remember me," he said, disappointed- ly. " And yet I should have known you anywhere. I couldn't ever forget you, nohow. But how could I ex- pect you to think of me ? Don't you remember Mrs. Jarvis's, and Hudson Street, and the sea-ants. Miss I'uttle ?" " And Mr. Ferdinand Foster ?" exclaimed Rowena, her face breaking into a smile as she held out her hand. She had never cared for Mr. Foster, and she won- dered why she should feel a kind of gladness at sight of him now. It seemed to her that she must be re- duced to a very low ebb to be glad to see "Ferd" Foster. All her life on Hudson Street came back to her in one vivid flash. Foster's small eyes shone from the greeting she gave him. She did not notice how her sister was watching her. 138 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD The man sat down near her and bent forward as he talked. " I know you wonder how I am here," he began, almost tremulously, "when you think of how it was you saw me last. But, you see, things went better with me than I expected. I fixed up that little job, and the folks let matters drop. I've been awful lucky since then. Why, I'm a regular financier now, Miss Tuttle, and there ain't anybody thinks much about my havin' had to go up to Canada that time. You're all right if you have money. There's the cur- tain going to rise now. I wish 'twouldn't. I've got a lot I want to tell you. And my sister's down there in the orchestra. Would it be too much to ask you to let me call on you. Miss Tuttle ?"' Mr. Foster rose. He was conscious that his even- ing suit was new and "exactly the thing;" that the stephanotis on the lapel was correct. But overriding this consciousness was a joy so extravagant that he was almost surprised at himself. He had heard abso- lutely nothing of Rowena Tuttle since that night when she had lent him Mr. Bradford's horse to ride away from the officers, who, he believed, were after him. " I'm not Miss Tuttle now," said Rowena. "Oh!" said Foster, his face darkening. "I didn't know." "Madame Van Benthuysen could have told you — Mrs. Stanger, I mean." " I don't see her often." " I am Mrs. Bradford." MARMADUKES ADVENTURE 139 "And will you let me call on you — and bring my sister ?" " Yes." Rowena hurriedly ,gave her address. Foster left them. " I s'pose you forgot to introduce him," remarked Sarah Kimball, rather frigidly. " Yes, I did forget. I was so very much surprised. But," smiling, " Ferd Foster will keep." Sarah Kimball looked aflhe stage a few moments. She did not think much of the play. It seemed rather dry to her, although there had been some love-making, of which she approved. After a little she said : "You've got such a curious way with you, Row- eny." " Curious way ?" repeated Rowena. " Yes ; something or other that kinder makes peo- ple want to be with you. You have a way of looking, and you've got such a voice. And 'taint no make-be- lieve, either. I s'pose that feller was in love with you when you first came to Boston to paint ?" " If he was he never told me so," was the answer. " You knew it, of course. 'N' he seems real rich now. Did you see his watch-chain ?" " No, I didn't notice it. We ought not to talk any more now." It was not until the play was over and the two were back in Park Street again that Sarah Kimball made this remark : "You remember I told you about that man that 14° MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Stared at me so on Winter Street, and that picked up a handkerchief as if 'twas mine ?" "Yes." "Well, it was your Mr. Foster. I knew him quick's a wink. 'N' if I hadn't known his face, I should have known his chain. It's a beautiful chain." Rowena had fallen into the habit of late of occa- sionally giving her sister a long, wondering, question- ing look. She did so now. " When do you think Mr. Foster will call ?'' asked Sarah Kimball. " I don't know." " I guess it'll be right away. I thought he seemed real fierce to come." Silence on the part of Rowena. " I s'pose you'll introduce him when he does come ?" " Yes, I'll introduce him." Sarah Kimball felt that life was becoming more in- teresting. She guessed Boston was a pleasant place after all, though it had been rather stupid. Rowena, a few days later, had an impulse to write to her mother some of the misgivings she had felt. She sat down with her pen in her hand, but she could not put into words anything that was in her mind. And it was wrong to trouble her mother, who believed that her youngest daughter was safe with that sister who had been able to go to Boston utterly alone. Had not Mrs. Tuttle said that Sarah Kimball was •' dreadful vain and kinder flirty ?" Rowena could not help shuddering at thought of the abysses near which Sarah Kimball seemed to be MARMADUKES ADVENTURE 141 disporting herself. Had she herself been near such dangers ? She could not believe it. Impossible ! Rowena started up from her chair. She put away pen and paper, and hurriedly dressed for the street. She did not invite her sister to go with her. The girl was looking over some fashion-plates, and had been asking advice as to how to have her next dress cut. Marmaduke sat up with such expectancy in his face that his mistress said, " Come, then," and the two went out together. He stood at the entrance watch- ing which way to go. She walked rapidly up the street, and he followed, keeping considerately on the side- walk, trotting back to express his joy every few yards. After a little she turned and walked to the Com- mon. Her thoughts were confused and bitter. She had a singular and depressing feeling of being alone. A score of impulses, all equally wild, rose in her heart and were subdued. But the subduing of them left her weak, and with a perilous sense of dissatisfaction. She hardly knew herself. She thought she had be- come a very different kind of woman from what she had intended to be. She left the Common and went into the Public Gar- dens, still keeping up her quick pace. The air was keen. She held her muff pressed closely against her. Suddenly she turned and looked all about her. She felt as if something were going to happen. Where was Marmaduke ? This question smote her. Her heart sprang into her throat. She could not bear it if she lost Marmaduke. And he never strayed from her in these days. She whistled shrilly. She called him. 142 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Lost yer dorg, lady ?" A man in a workman's dress stopped and looked at her. She tried to be calm, though she felt a distressing inclination to shriek. "Yes," she said. "But no, I can't have lost him. It's only a few minutes since he was with me." She called him. " Smooth, white dorg, with a black patch over his right eye ?" " Oh, no," shuddering visibly ; " a long-haired ter- rier — a Yorkshire. I must have him. Oh, I wish you'd whistle for me ! I can't seem to whistle any more !" The man ejected a large piece of tobacco from his mouth, turning considerately to one side as he did so. Then he gave two long, shrill whistles. " You call him, lady," he advised, " and I'll do the pipin'. I guess if we don't raise your dorg between us he's been stole." Rowena did as she was told. She began to walk here and there, calling, " Marmaduke !" as she went. The man kept by her side, and when she was not shouting he was whistling. She did not notice wheth- er anybody looked at her or not. " I tell you what I think," said the man, who was now rather breathless ; "I think he's been stole. Was he one of them little fellows with their eyes covered with hair, that cost a lot of money ?" " I don't know how much he cost," said Rowena ; " but he was little, and — " MARMADUKES ADVENTURE 1 43 Here she stopped. It seemed to her as if she were describing a friend who was dead. Do not laugh at her, you who are strong-minded, and who do not care for a dog save " in his place." " Do please whistle some more ! He may hear you now." "Jes 's you say, lady;" and the man whistled again. Rowena did not see a coupe which was moving slowly near the fence in the street. But she heard, presently, Mrs. Sears's voice saying : " Mrs. Bradford, what is the matter ?" On the seat with the lady who put this question was a small dog, who peered curiously out. He was Marmaduke's brother, and it gave Rowena a shock to see him. She said, shortly : " I've lost Marmaduke." "Get right in here with me," was the prompt re- sponse, "and we'll advertise him. He's been stolen for the reward." " Oh, do you think so ? I'll pay anything to get him back !" " Don't say that ! Who is that man ? Does he know where he is ?" " He ? No, indeed. He has been helping me." "I've jes' ben her whistlin' - piece, lady," said the man, advancing and looking at Mrs. Sears, who stared back suspiciously. " Kind of a wind instrument, you know. 'Stonishing how much some folks '11 think of them little dorgs !" 144 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Get in here," again said Mrs. Sears, imperatively, to Rowena, who now obeyed. The man was turning away, when Mrs. Sears called: " Here, you. Mister — " " Montague Capoolit," said he, with a grin, as he came back to the carriage and leaned on the wheel.. " I forgot," interrupted Rowena, bending hastily forward. " I am so much obliged to you. Will you let me pay you for your trouble ?" " I guess we're square," answered the man; "'n' I'm ready to whistle for you any day you'll need me. I' ain't acquainted with many folks like you, 'n' that's a fact ; 'n' I hope you'll find your dorg." He was. moving away again, when Mrs. Sears said to Rowena: " Let me manage this affair. He knows where your terrier is." " Let's settle this business right here,'' she said to the man. " Come back. How much do you ask to bring the dog here now? We will wait. Mention your price. It'll save bother." Rowena was grieved and shocked at the cynicism of her friend. She was sure this man knew nothing more than what she had told him. She looked at him imploringly. As for him, he fixed his eyes, which were not mates, and which made his expression grotesque, on her in- stead of her companion. " I guess she's caught the wrong pig by the ear this time," he said, jerking his head very disrespect- fully towards Mrs. Sears. "You tell her I ain't in MARMADUKES ADVENTURE 1 45 the dorg-stealin' business jest now. You tell it to her so 't she'll understand it. But I bet your dorg's ben stole. She's right 'bout the advertisin' dodge. You try it on." The man really walked away now. Rowena leaned back in the carriage and almost sobbed. The Sears terrier, who had been put on the wool rug provided for him, looked at her with acute sympathy. He darted at her and licked the tip of her nose. Mrs. Sears ordered the driver to take them to the office of every daily paper in the city. The driver took the liberty to say to his mistress : " That's the man that knows about the dorg." Mrs. Sears groaned. " I'm sure of it. But you can't arrest a man for stealing a dog just because he has been helping some- body whistle. When the time comes that women make the laws — " Here she glanced at Rowena and exclaimed : " Mrs. Bradford, let us look at the mitigations in this state of things. Let us be grateful it is not your hus- band who is lost, and whom we are about to advertise." Rowena smiled somewhat drearily. She wondered why she felt that Marmaduke represented so much to her. It was Keats who had brought him to Hudson Street from Mrs. Sears; and the terrier had never been parted from her since ; and he loved Keats so ! She turned away her head. Certainly she was very foolish. The real philosophy of life was not to love anything. 146 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD She sat still, and allowed Mrs. Sears to give the or- ders for the advertisements. When the time came for her to go to her rooms she wished her sister were not there. There was a certain dry practicality about Sarah Kimball that made her presence sometimes rasping. "You'll have Marmaduke back before to-morrow night," said Mrs. Sears. " Remember how many times Mrs. Browning's Flush was stolen. This bringing back the dog and getting the reward is a trade. Ah ! I wish I could clap that man who has two kinds of eyes onto the rack and put on the screws till he told ! But women have no rights. Good-bye, dear. Send a messenger round when the terrier returns. And don't despair ; though I'd rather lose all my friends than to lose my Jaques. He is Jaques because he isn't melancholy." Rowena stood at the entrance until the carriage had gone ; then she went up to her own rooms, bracing herself to meet Sarah Kimball. But Sarah Kimball was not there. She had gone out to price dress-goods and to get small shreds of cloths as samples. These shreds she hoarded, and had seasons of studying them, with a view towards making a selection eventu- ally. Already there were several dry-goods shops where the clerks had learned to dread the sight of that pret- ty, alert girl, whom even a saleslady with the best in- tentions towards putting down people could not put down. Sarah Kimball would toss over the things shown her, and say they were not at all what she was looking for ; and she would stare into the brassy eyes MARMADUKES ADVENTURE 1 47 that tried to intimidate her. She told her sister that she "guessed them girls would get enough of it if they tried their little games on her." And Rowena gazed at her in amazement, for even now a saleslady well equipped with effrontery could make Mrs. Brad- ford retreat. Mrs. Bradford was conscious of a pity- ing tenderness for all such girls, and she could not be haughty to them. She remembered when she was a poor girl who "room kept" in an attic. Often, how- ever, she met a saleswoman who was touched to the heart by the unconscious consideration paid her by the lady whose packages were to be sent to " Mrs, Bradford," on Park Street. After all, there is a differ- ence in salesladies. Rowena was learning not to worry about her sister, and not to be alarmed if she were out a long time. The shops and the street lamps were lighted when Rowena returned, though it was yet far from evening, Absorbed in her own thoughts, she removed her bon- net and wraps and began nioving restlessly about. Perhaps one who ha§ never gone through the experi- ence cannot well imagine how a person may feel the absence of a small creature who is full of ardent love, and who has been with one for years. Walking back and forth in the room, Rowena be- came aware of a penetrating odor, and then that there was a fresh bunch of lilies on the table. As she stood in the dim light, for her own lamp was not yet kindled, with one hand resting on the table while she bent over the flowers, there was a scrambling and scratch- ing at the door. Then a wild, shrill bark, and Mar- 148 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD maduke had sprung up at her to be taken in her arms. He began what appeared to be a process of Hteral devouring, for dogs have not the wish to conceal the strength of their love. "This time I'm sure I am welcome," said Mr. Soule, who had entered with the dog. " I intend to make the very most of this service." Rowena turned to him. Her eyes were soft in the dusk. She knew she had been superstitious. If she lost Marmaduke she lost much more than Marmaduke. She could not remember when she had been so " un- strung." "Oh yes, you are welcome," she said, eagerly. " Come and sit down here and tell me how you found him." She tucked the dog under her arm, and with a somewhat trembling hand she lighted the lamp and took a seat in the obscurity made by its deep shade. Mr. Soule advanced. But he remained standing for a moment. He had not so much manner as usual. He seemed much improved in "health and strength, though he used a cane and leaned heavily upon it. "Sit down," she said again. She glanced up at him. " It is odd that I should think so much of bringing the terrier back to you," he said. " I might as well confess that I was almost glad of the opportunity. It's not quite as bad as stealing him for the reward, but perhaps that recording angel of whom we hear so much will consider it the same thing. Did your hus- band give you the dog, Mrs. Bradford ?" MARMADUKES ADVENTURE 1 49 "No; Mrs. Sears gave him. He has been my friend ever since." Mr. Soule took a long breath. " I thought it was Bradford's gift." Again Rowena glanced at him. She began to be conscious of Mr. Soule's lack of manner. Even his voice was pitched in an unusual key. He sat down at last, adjusting himself with care on account of his injuries. He looked round the room. " Is your sister at home ?" "No. Very likely she is getting samples of dry goods." Rowena laughed uneasily. She wondered why those lilies gave out such an oppressive perfume. " Does she collect samples ?" "Yes." " I hope she will go on collecting them for an hour to come." This impolite remark would have been startling coming from any one, but from Mr. Soule it had somewhat the effect of a pistol-ball whizzing by Row- ena's ear. It emphasized very markedly the already potent fact that he was not using his manner. Rowena furtively gazed at him to see if he had been drinking. Apparently not. " But you haven't told me how you found my dog," she said. " It was on Beacon Street. There were a number of carriages. He had run into the street. I think he was hit slightly by one of the horses — only enough to confuse him. I saw him, but I hardly noticed till a boy ISO MRS. KEATS BRADFORD ran and picked him up. Then I saw that silver cross the terrier wears on his collar, and I grew interested. Tliat boy was going to get a reward. I perceived that directly. Now, I wanted the reward myself. I bargained with him. I took the animal. But Mar- maduke doesn't like me. He tolerated me, however, which was enough for my purpose." " I am so grateful," said Rowena. " You had to pay the boy money. It appears to me that I must owe you something besides mere thanks, Mr. Soule. Thanks enough I cannot pay. But money I can." Soule had been gazing about the room almost rude- ly as he told his little story. Now, with a glow of eyes and face, he brought his glance to his companion. " Owe me something !" he repeated. " Yes, indeed, Mrs. Bradford." Rowena remained silent. She wondered when Sarah Kimball would come back. She felt an excitement which angered her. And in her excitement was an alloy of pity, which possibly a woman may understand. Soule leaned forward and put his hand on the arm of Rowena's chair. He gripped the arm. " Yes," he said, " you owe me a great deal, Mrs. Bradford. More than you or any one will ever pay, and you only could pay it. You have destroyed my interest in everything in the world save yourself. Don't be righteously indignant now," with something like a sneer. " You didn't know you were doing it. If you had known it you couldn't have done it. I'm too old, and I've known too many women. You were just clear and honest with me. It's infernally strange, marmaduke's adventure 151 Mrs. Bradford, why more women don't let themselves be clear and honest. They couldn't hold a better hand. You used to puzzle me until I was convinced you were just what you seemed. Don't "stop me. If your sister will only keep on getting samples, I'm going to have this talk out— the last talk, Rowena Bradford. And I loved your art and understood it. You liked me for that. I knew your dreams about it. Good heavens ! What made you marry? You don't love him, and he knows it. I wouldn't be in his shoes. I tell you not to stop me. I swear I'm going to say a few things now. I thought I could bear to see you, but I can't. So I'm going to speak now, and then I sha'n't trouble you. You may spare your- self telling me aU that rigid New England rot about marriage vows, and so forth. I know it all. And I know you believe in it. You'd live up to that stuff if you died for it. And I admire you for it. But you're wrong, just the same. You don't live up to your mar- riage vows. You know what you promised. You'd never love me. You can't conceive of loving me." Rowena had shrunk into her chair. Her face was so white and stiff that it looked frozen. But her eyes were full of flames that seemed eddying out towards the man's face that was so near hers. " No," she said, in a just audible voice. " I can't conceive of loving you. Will you leave me ?" Soule let go the arm of her chair. He had uncon- sciously penned her in her place. He rose. There was a sound at the outer door. " It is Sarah Kimball," he said, hoarsely. IS 2 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD He turned and walked slowly across the floor. He bowed impressively to the girl who entered. " What, Mr. Soule," she exclaimed ; " you going just 's soon 's I come ?" Mr. Soule protested that he was desolated by the necessity of departure. He went out of the room. SOMEWHAT CANINE 153 XI SOMEWHAT CANINE Sarah Kimball walked round in front of her sister. She unfastened her jacket and threw it back. It v/ould be strictly within the limits of truth, although the term sounds melodramatic, to say that she glared. " What on earth have you two been talking about ?" she asked, sharply. "You look — well, you both looked like a theatre. A better theatre than we went to the other night, though." Her voice softened a good deal as she added, " I hope you ain't sick, Roweny." " No, no. I — I had lost Marmaduke," was the answer. The girl looked at the dog, who was reposing on a fold of his mistress's skirt. He did not have the appearance now of a person who had ever been lost. " Oh," responded Sarah Kimball, sceptically, " and what had Mr. Soule lost ?" " He brought back the terrier," said Rowena. She, had a sense that she was striving to speak accurately, and that her tongue refused to obey her. " Oh," said Sarah Kimball again. She felt that things were "awful queer." She liked to understand things. She had a small parcel in her hand. This parcel was samples of " cheviots " and IS4 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Bedford cords." She had come in eager to talk the goods over with Iier sister. But she had a feeling that now, to report her thoughts precisely, " Roweny's judgment on Bedford cords wouldn't be worth a cent." She wondered how her sister could look so white and still, and at the same time so furious, as she did at this moment. Perhaps she was going to have " a stroke." But the girl did not know the symptoms of a stroke, only that she believed it was extremely aged people, forty years old or more, who were so afflicted. Rowena still sat far back in her chair. Her hands were folded tightly. " I wish you would throw those lilies away," she said, suddenly, without turning her head. Sarah Kimball began to be frightened. " What's the matter with the lilies ?" she asked. " They are stifling. Throw them into the grate." " But I sha'n't, then. They ain't yours. They are mine. They came to Miss Tuttle. I guess that's me. I hope you ain't mad 'cause I get flowers sometimes. But if they make you feel bad — " Sarah Kimball took the great vase of flowers and went into her own room with them. She put them down, and then stood patting her hair before the glass, according to her manner. She was wishing her mother was there — when Rowena's eyes had that look in them, she felt she was quite helpless. She had never seen them that way before. But if the dog had been lost — Rowena was silly enough about the dog. SOMEWHAT CANINE 155 . Altogether, things were stranger Jiere than she had expected. She returned to the other room. Rowena had risen and was walking about. Marraaduke was following her slowly, turning when she did, but yawning and evidently very sleepy. " Do you feel sick ?" anxiously inquired Sarah Kim- ball, " I guess it's your liver. If I only had some thoroughwort, I'd steep it for you. Is there any place in Boston where I can get some thoroughwort ?" Rowena paused in her walk. She took her sister's short-fingered, effective hands in her own. " You poor little thing !" she exclaimed, tenderly, "I don't need any herbs. My head aches, but that is nothing. I'm as healthy as you are. You know the Tuttles are tough," with a laugh. " I was greatly worried when I thought I had lost my dog. There goes the clock ; its time for us to go to dinner. When we come back, let us look at the samples." Rowena sat patiently and pretended to eat, while her sister made a bountiful repast. She was thinking over and over again what she had once heard Mrs. Sears say : " When a man talks thus to a married woman, it is always the woman's fault." She had fully believed what Mrs. Sears had as- serted. There is a kind of nature which cannot assimilate evil of certain sorts. Rowena could not have spent those years in Paris without gaining a knowledge of what some lives mean. There is, however, a pellucid- IS6 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD ness of character, or I might say temperament, pos- sible to a New England born and bred girl which does not make her cold, but which does make her pure. She is ardent and transparent. Her nature has an opulence which we have been taught to think belongs only to very different organizations. Its temptations do not lie so much in the reigon of simple flesh. The fire of such souls is very clear burning, but it is very intense. Rowena thought it rather strange that, when she and her sister were back in their own rooms, her entire mind should be occupied in an attempt to forget that remark made by Mrs. Sears. She resented the fact that she could not forget those words. She was giving an apparently animated, but really mechanical, attention to the discussion of samples, when she was informed by a servant that a person was outside who was bound to come in. That it was a man whom Mrs. Keats Bradford would cry her eyes out if she didn't see. " He said 'cry her eyes out,' " said the servant, with an ill-suppressed giggle. " And he's got something in a basket." "Oh, do let him come in!" cried Sarah Kim- ball. This exclamation was evidently heard by the person outside, for a man in a short leather jacket and very light, much-soiled trousers immediately entered. He took off a cloth cap and crushed it into his jacket pocket. He swung a basket from his left arm down into his hand. SOMEWHAT CANINE 157 Marmaduke walked forward, and in the most in- terested manner sniffed at the wicker-work. " I've brought back yer pup, missis," said the man. " I didn't lose no time. I know how ladies go on when they lose their dorgs. It's wuss'n a child." ^arah Kimball began to laugh. " 'Twa'n't so much the reward I was thinkin' of as your feelin's, missis," said the man who, while he spoke, was unfastening a rope which held down the cover of the basket. " I seen the ad. while I was eatin' my supper out in Charlest'n. I always look at the ads. I'll go right over, I said to myself, for the lady'll be carryin' on awful." I cannot describe adequately the affability and good- nature of the man as he talked and worked away at the knot in the rope, which knot was rather intricate. There was a rustling and scratching in the basket which excited Marmaduke to a great degree. Rowena was absurdly grateful to this individual for coming and " taking up her mind " somewhat. But she said, immediately : " I have found my dog. " I'm sorry you have had this trouble. The one you have there must belong to some one else." " Don't you be too sure ; jest wait till you've seen him," was the response. The cover was at last removed. A very young and very leggy bull -terrier puppy rolled out onto the car- pet. The instant it could gather its feet under it it made a dive at Marmaduke, and the two jumped and twisted in frantic play. 158 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " I s'pose that hairy one's your'n," remarked the man. " But you c'n see for yourself that a Yorkshire ain't itothin' to a bull-tarrier. Most ladies that know 'bout dorgs, as I see you do, missis, takes a norful shine to these bull-tarriers. 'Fectionatest dorgs there is in the world, 'n' there ain't no watch-dogs c'n beat um for clear watchin'." The man put his hands in his pockets and looked with contemplative admiration at the two animals dis- porting themselves on the carpet. Rowena found herself amused and soothed. There was about this stranger that unexplainable something which pertains to some horse jockeys, and which has nothing whatever to do with their honesty. This man now looked at her and winked. But the wink was not in the least disrespectful, and she was not displeased. " I should think you had come to sell a dog," she said. He winked again. " Wall, you see, I thought 'twas safe to come, any way. If you hadn't found your'n you might feel like buyin'. 'N' if you had found your'n, no harm done. Now, my farrier's jest as pure blooded 's they make um. I've got two more over in Charlest'n. I ain't dear, 'cause I don't b'lieve in grindin' the face of the poor nohow. Ain't you got no brother nor relative out in the country that knows a good thing when they see it, now?" Rowena thought of Nathan Henry. The man saw the change in her face. He picked up the puppy and put him on Rowena's lap. SOMEWHAT CANINE 159 " Jest heft him," he said. " Ain't he solid ? Ain't an out about him. Be worth $25 by the time he's a year old." The puppy took Rowena's fingers in his mouth and mumbled them. He looked at her with confiding eyes that were still blue. " Boys do like dogs," she said. " You bet they do !" exclaimed the man ; " specially bull-tarriers. A ten-dollar bill will buy him." She did not think of the bill that would buy him. She found it somewhat difficult to keep her thoughts strictly on the subject in hand, interested as she was in it. She glanced at her sister. " Do you think mother would object ?" she asked. " You know she would really be the one to take care of him. Nathan Henry is not — " Here she paused. " Nate ain't just achin' to do any kind of work," promptly responded Sarah Kimball, " only sums. He likes to do sums, and he can go ahead every time on them." " Oh, he loves to do sums, does he ?" Rowena said the words rather vaguely. She put her hand to her head. She wanted to impress upon her memory the fact that Nate liked sums, and that she must do something for him if he cared for an education that should stimulate his mathematical inclination. Sarah Kimball, seeing Rowena's gesture, again re- verted, though silently this time, to thoroughwort tea. She would get some of that herb. I Go MRS. KEATS BRADFORD "Jest look at it as an investment," now remarked the man. " If you git that pup for a ten-spot you c'n sell him to-morrow for ^12 or $15. See? I met a man yisterdy that offered me $11.50. But I said no. He stands ready this minute to take him. But I'd 'nough sight ruther sell him to a lady like you. I want him to have a good home. I'm partickler 'bout that. I've got some feelin'." The speaker looked round as if he would like to expectorate, but not seeing any receptacle, he did not expectorate. As he stood here, after having thus spoken and thus looked around, the servant again opened the door. " If you please," she said, " there's another man 'n' another dorg out here. They say, I mean the man says, that Mrs. Bradford advertised for a dorg, 'n' he's got to come in." "Oh, let him come in!"' exclaimed Sarah Kimball for the second time. And this man now appeared in the doorway. He had one end of a chain in his hand, and, instead of greeting any one in the room, he was entirely occupied in muttering and shaking his head at something at the other end of the chain. Marmaduke now trans- ferred his attention from the puppy in his mistress's lap to the object at the end of that chain. He dis- appeared just without the door and could be heard growling. He had quite a large growl for his size. " I guess you better close up with ray offer while there's a chance," said the owner of the puppy. Rowena held out the little dog. SOMEWHAT CANINE i6l " Bring him to-morrow and I'll take him," she said, hastily. " All right, missis, you've got a bargain ; that's what you've got." The smooth terrier was hustled into the basket. " Nate '11 be tickled to death," said Sarah Kimball. " Ain't it funny ? Oh, my ! Ain't you kind of 'fraid, Roweny ?" For, as the first man walked out, the second one ventured in ; and stalking along behind him was a long-legged, yellow monster that seemed to combine the appearance of a mastiff and of a St. Bernard. Marmaduke walked beside him with his nose in the air and his little tail vibrating. " I hope you ain't paid no money for no small trash," said this canine attendant. " I seen your ' ad.,' 'n' I said to my wife that if you'd really lost your tarrier, you'd be glad to have a dorg as could pro- tect you. Your dearest friend couldn't come nigh if you should buy this feller." An arrangement by which your dearest friend couldn't come near you appeared to be, in this person's estimation, a recommendation that could not be re- sisted. A fleeting thought that this gentleman could not have an exalted idea of friendship passed through Rowena's mind. " What breed is he ?" she asked. Sarah Kimball had run behind her sister's chair, and now stood looking over the back of it. The huge animal sat down on his haunches. He looked leisure- ly about him, slobbering somewhat as he did so. His l62 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD pendulous under lip showed a deep line of red. His eyes also seemed red. The man who had brought him was small and ex- tremely insignificant in comparison with his charge. He looked at Rowena as if wondering how much she really knew about dogs, and how unlikely a story she would believe. " Pure," he said ; " pure 's ice." " But what breed ?" The man yanked at the chain and told the dog to " be still," although it had not moved. He had the day before exhibited this creature to a woman who, when he had given the above response to her ques- tion as to what breed, had supposed she was an- swered. " Well," he said now, " fact is we're gettin' up a new variety. We want to introduce it, 'n' we sell cheaper now 'n' we ever shall again." Rowena smiled. Sarah Kimball suggested that this one be bought for the Townshend baby. It would perhaps eat up the baby, which deed, in this girl's mind, would be " a mercy." " How much is the price now?" asked Rowena. "One sometimes needs protection from dearest friends. Does he vary this protectiveness by biting the hand that feeds him, for instance ?" The man stared, and his face turned sullen. " Twenty-five dollars," he said, gruffly. Rowena held out her hand to the dog. " Come here, sir." The dog slowly lifted his huge bulk onto his four SOMEWHAT CANINE 163 legs. He wagged and he slobbered in a flattering manner. A sound at the door. " Oh, my gracious !" exclaimed Sarah Kimball, gig- gling, " another one ! Let 'em all come in, Roweny, do. "I'm so glad you advertised. Let's get a dog for each of the folks out to home. Let's send Marthy S. a real old buster." As the girl pronounced the words " real old buster " in her high-keyed voice, Mrs. Appleton- Sears came in, accompanied by a young man who had a good deal of what is called a "society air," but not so much but that he stared rather markedly at Rowena, who rose immediately. " I couldn't resist coming round myself," said the lady, "to see the effect of the advertisement. I see I was right. You have the terrier back. Mr. Dunn was calling on me. He begged to be allowed to come. He has long wanted to know you, Mrs. Brad- ford. Art critic for The Daily Light. You have doubtless heard of him." Mr. Dunn apparently wished that the specimen of the new breed of dogs was not in the room. His bow to Mrs. Bradford was made at far too great a distance from that lady, because he did not know precisely how to cross the space directly in front of the animal. Mrs. Sears, however, walked calmly up to the dog and looked at him. " He's no thoroughbred," she remarked. " He's a new breed," said the man ; " pure 's ice." "Oh, is he ?" responded Mrs. Sears, with indifference. 164 MRS. KEATS BRAbFORD Rowena turned to her sister and said, in an under- tone : " Make the man go away. And tell the servant not to let any more of them in." Sarah Kimball had been expecting that the young man would be "introdooced." Rowena saw this ex- pectation as she spoke. But the presence of the big yellow dog and its owner had been rather confusing. " Then join us," she hastily said. Mr. Nicholas Dunn was tall and narrow shoulder- ed and hollow-chested. He had a little yellow mus- tache, which he fingered a good ■ deal. His face was what might be called " rather sweet." He had painted a few pictures for which nobody cared, but this experience had taught him the use of some terms which he used fluently. And he had a considerable taste in art. Also he could guess shrewdly as to what was going to be successful. Perhaps his own failure gave him this power of guessing correctly. When he had seen that picture of the stream and the mill, when he had noticed the expression that came upon the faces of the many who stopped to look at it, he felt that he was safe in writing about it for the paper with which he was connected. This paper was much read and believed in by those even who could judge for themselves ; and much more belief was given it by those who could not judge, but who wished to appear as if they could do so. Mr. Dunn had an intimate friend who was a relative of Mrs. Appleton-Sears, and Mrs. Sears had been very kind. SOMEWHAT CANINE 165 When he had come to Boston he had been deter- mined to know only " the best." He felt that he was getting on very well indeed. Now, as he tossed back his head in a way he had after having made a bow, he was truly grateful that he had asked Mrs. Sears to present him. So that was Mrs. Keats Bradford ? She had painted " In mid-Augu.st." Now that he saw her, he thought more highly than before of her canvas. He already began to revolve in his mind two or three sentences that he would put into another article. He did not notice that the kindly way in which she looked at him was perhaps a trifle impersonal and absent. For Rowena was still under the influence of that interview with Mr. Soule. And she was longing to be alone that she might ask herself a few ques- tions. Mr. Dunn was presented to Sarah Kimball, and that young lady conversed very animatedly with him while her sister related briefly to Mrs. Sears the return of Marmaduke. Then Mr. Dunn saw his opening. He came for- ward. He said that he begged leave to congratulate Mrs. Bradford. He had enjoyed her picture so much. "And praise from Mr. Dunn — " interrupted Mrs. Sears, smiling indulgently. Like a good many elderly people, she sometimes thought the young folks as- sumed a great deal. But she forgave them. She said she was willing that they should wait until they were older before they learned how very little they knew now. l66 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Rowena said : " Thank you." She tried to be inter- ested. " I wish we might see the subjects you exhibited in the Salon." Mr. Dunn liked to call a picture " a subject." Rowena said "Thank you" again, and then exerted herself to continue. " I suppose I am not a judge; but I like this better than anything I have done." " It is so good," murmured Mr. Dunn. " Why didn't you let it be seen in your studio ?" asked Mrs. Sears. " Oh no," hastily answered Rowena. Mrs. Sears nodded. " Of course, I see it would not have been agreeable — to you.'' " Your method of brushing is wonderfully effective in the sky," remarked Mr. Dunn. " I don't often see anything like it. And that transparent amber along the horizon at the left. Really, your brush must have been inspired ! ' Though Mr. Dunn tried not to forget to drawl, he was interested and did forget. And Rowena was becoming interested now. When a person spoke understandingly of her work there was touched a chord that could not help but vibrate. " You know that warm, languorous glow of an Au- gust sky," she said, with some eagerness. " It seems more glow than color. I felt that I must get it. It was an attempt that bewitched me. But success eluded me for so long. At last — but you will think me egotistic, Mr. Dunn," smiling up at him. " Still, I think you know what is the sensation when you can SOMEWHAT CANINE 167 catch and hold even a hint of that for which you are striving. It must be so in all work, mustn't it ?" Mr. Dunn's face flushed sensitively with pleasure. " Yes, yes," he said, quickly. "And you, Mrs. Brad- ford, must have many of those moments when you feel that you grasp success — at least, that is the way I thought when I looked at your picture yesterday." Sarah Kimball listened in amazement. So that was the way folks talked of what her sister had just been doing. When Rowena was so absorbed and abstract- ed, she was really amounting to something. The girl had thought the mill and the stream and the trees " real natural." She was very proud. But there was a sense of annoyance in her pride — an annoyance which she did not like to acknowledge. She looked at Mr. Dunn and saw how animated he was. She wished she could paint. She glanced at her sister. Rowena was animated now. She did not look as if she would need any thoroughwort, after all. But how very odd she had been about the lilies ! Yes, Sarah Kimball was conscious that there were a great many things that she did not understand. But she meant to understand them. She heard Mr. Dunn say, fervently, something about " rich landscape senti- ment," and she had a depressing sense that she had not the least idea what he meant. But Rowena knew, evidently. She would make Rowena tell her. If the young men in Boston were going to talk in that way she must learn how to do it. It was not often that this girl had any lowering consciousness of her own defects. l68 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD XII AT THE RANCH When Keats Bradford had said that California ranch life would not be a bit like Paris he had spoken truth. It was not in the least like Paris. There were a great many points of divergence. Perhaps the one upon which he dwelt mostly was that Rowena had been with him in the French city, and she was not with him at the ranch. But if this fact were much in his mind he gave no sign that it was so. Life on the ranch of a wealthy man is only as rough as those who dwell there please to make it. But al- most unavoidably it has an element of freedom which is not found in the midst of too much civilization. Bradford every day thanked fortune that he could be untrammelled under God's heaven. He was on horseback most of the daylight hours. He developed a talent for being of real assistance at " round-ups." He offered his services to the neighbors who were going to count their cattle ; and neighbors sometimes lived a long way off. " Bradford will be a centaur," said Lister to his wife one day. " He will soon sleep and eat in the saddle." "And what better could a man do with himself?" AT THE RANCH 169 Bradford asked in response. " I am going out to Pink Rock this morning. I sliall try my new mare." Mrs. Lister, who was leaning back behind the coffee urn at the breakfast-table, looked somewhat intently at Bradford as he spoke. " The mail wagon comes up by Pink Rock at about eleven," she said. " Yes," said Bradford. " I am going to meet it. I expect a letter from Mrs. Bradford." Mrs. Lister sighed with some ostentation. " It is really refreshing to me to observe that there is one man who is not ashamed to be glad to hear from his wife." "Now, Sue, don't be silly," remarked Lister, who was looking over the latest Boston paper. " Holloa," he added, quickly, " this must be about the lady her- self. Sit down, my friend. Here are two columns of high art — lots of stuff on ' Mid- August,' and 'Mrs. Keats Bradford.' Sit down and be entertained. I'll read it to you. That roan mare will take you to Pink Rock early enough." Bradford walked round the table and looked over Lister's shoulder. He read a few paragraphs, enough to know that the writer knew his subject. Perhaps Soule was writing again. But no, this was not Soule's style ; it was good, but not so good. "I had an idea that Mrs. Bradford was just an amateur ; played with art in a dilettante way, like so many others," said Mrs. Lister. " She is not an amateur at all," replied Bradford. " She has a touch of power." lyo MRS. KEATS BRADFORD He did not wait to hear the article which his friend now began to read. He went out and saddled his horse. A few moments later he galloped by the win- dow. He svfrung off his hat to Mrs. Lister, who waved her hand at him. She turned towards her husband. " Do you know, Jack, somehow I don't like Mrs. Bradford." " Don't you think it would be a little more just to wait until you had seen her ?" he asked. " There's no need of my waiting. I know I don't like her ! and you need not read me that lot of words about that picture of hers. I sha'n't listen." Bradford rode very fast. The air was glorious and stimulating ; the sunshine was something to penetrate and comfort one's body and bones. And when these corporeal parts of one are comforted the spirit is likely to share in the good. The mail for the Lister ranch, and for a few other places near, was brought twice a week by a boy on a pony. The boy and the pony were usually lazy, and the time of their arrival was of the utmost uncertainty. Bradford often rode to meet them, and sometimes he covered fifteen of the twenty- five miles traversed by this mail-carrier. But Pink Rock, a huge abutment that glowed beneath the unwavering sunlight, was of- tenest the place of meeting. There Bradford would select his mail from the canvas bag hung on the pony's saddle. Now, as the brilliant rocks began to show more and more vividly as the mare stretched forward in her AT THE RANCH 17 r long lope, the mare's rider saw an object turn the corner round the cliff. Of course it was the boy. Then a curious start came to the man's pulses as he perceived that it was not the boy. The clear air made ever)rthing almost as strange as a mirage. Brad- ford had not yet become accustomed to this wonder- ful lucidity of vision which had so often deceived him. But that was a woman coming towards him. And she was not so near as he had thought. She sat her pony well. At last he saw that she was one who did everything well — his cousin Vanessa. He was off his horse in a moment and standing by her, holding both her hands. " Rowena is well," she exclaimed, almost instantly. " Don't think I am the bearer of bad tidings. I saw her a week ago. I suppose she writes to you, and it was not necessary to send word by me. That boy with the mail -bag is somewhere on this trail. How charming to be able to speak of a trail instead of a street ! I was deadly tired of streets. Perhaps you are deadly tired of trails, Keats ?" "Not in the least." Bradford mounted his horse. The two rode on. " I wouldn't wait for any vehicle on wheels to be brought out to take me to Mr. Lister's ranch. I did not come here to be dragged about on wheels. I borrowed this pony and I came on with the mail- boy, who is not, I hope, a type of Western enter- prise. Ah ! I have longed for those mountains and for air like this ! What a miserable life the life of cities is ! Continually jostled by some one ; all 172 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD your noble thoughts suffocated by the breath of crowds." Miss PhiUipps looked about her with sparkling eyes. Bradford's glance was fixed on her. He smiled. " So glad you approve of these mountains, and the country in general," he said. " Don't sneer." She turned to gaze fairly at him as she spoke. He answered the gaze. "Keats," she said, suddenly, "why don't you go home ?" " I thought I should stay all winter," he an- swered. " I am sure of one thing," she remarked, with ap- parently unnecessary emphasis, "and that is, if I could be a man for twenty-four hours — yes, I would bear it fiven longer — I would not be an idiot. Keats, I used to admire you. I used to think you were remarkably bright and intuitive — for a man." " Being your cousin," he interjected. A deep fold had come between his brows. But he still smiled with the half quizzical smile that was often on his face when he was with his cousin. " Go home," she said again. She had removed her eyes from him now. She was gently stroking the hogged mane of her pony. " Make love to Rowena. As Charles Reade used to say, make hot leve to her. Sigh for her ; pine for her ; die for her." It was not until after a long silence that Bradford spoke again. He had squared himself in the Saddle and flung up his head. AT THE RANCH 173 " Did you come across America to tell me this ?" he asked, at length. "Yes; partly." " Dear friend." Bradford's voice was sometimes very mellow and sweet. It was so now. And although he said " f wend," and although she was his cousin, Miss Phillipps flushed. " Do you think I have neglected to try to make Rowena know I love her ?" asked Bradford. " I don't know what I think," answered Miss Phil- lipps, with a quick gesture of one hand. " Do you recall what George Sand says somewhere ?" Bradford shrugged his shoulders. " George Sand has said a good many things," he remarked. " Yes, and some of them sometimes have a startling pertinence. I don't think men always know this : that ' the expression of love often charms women more than the proof of it' " Miss Phillipps hung her bridle on the pommel of her saddle that she might thoughtfully smooth back the wrinkles in her gauntlets. "Another remark of George Sand's comes to me often when I am with Rowena. It is the definition of an artist : ' one who feels life with frightful inten- sity.' You know that is Rowena. But she is so com- pounded with her New England birth ; and her warm temperament — well, she is not in the least melodra- matic, and I think ,the world credits melodramatic people with a good deal of feeling." Miss Phillipps continued to arrange her gloves. 174 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Her companion continued silent. The horses were going at a foot pace. The mountains far off were a vivid violet. The sunlight enwrapped the plain and the distant hills in an embrace of beneficent love. " Rowena is going to be famous ; that is, as famous as any one gets in these days. I know the signs. And hers will be no meretricious distinction, either. Keats, you will soon be known as the husband of Mrs. Bradford. Perhaps you will not like that." The speaker glanced interrogatively at the man by her side. He responded by a look which did not tell her anything. She went on. " There is one thing you have always to remember. Rowena did not jump into your arms. You deliber- ately invited your fate. I suppose that, man-like, you really thought that when she was once your wife she would only play at painting. It is surprising how little men know." "Pity us," murmured Bradford. "We do as well as we can." Miss Phillipps shook her head impatiently. " I used to make her out. I used to read her heart. She was greatly moved because I left her. I don't like to remember the tone in which she said ' Don't go !' But she would not come with me. I asked her to come. Do you think she is absolutely certain you would have been glad to see her here ?" " Certain !" exclaimed Bradford, with some violence. Then he shut his lips tightly. " Remember what George Sand says," said Miss Phillipps. Then she went on with a kind of bitter AT THE RANCH 1 75 lightness. " But I can almost think I am getting to be a meddling old woman. It did seem as if, should I really be face to face with you, I could make you understand — that perhaps I should understand my- self. But you, like everybody else, must dree your own weird. Do you think we might have a gallop now? And shall I be a great inconvenience to the Listers .■' I used to know her very well. We used to make experiments in chemistry when we were at school together." " Yes, we will have a gallop. And you will not be any inconvenience to the Listers. You don't know what ranch hospitality is, I imagine." But just as they were setting off the boy with the mail-bag came sauntering up. Bradford took the bag and told the boy if he grew hungry he might hurry, otherwise no one would care now if he did not arrive until night, or not at all. Of course, the boy, being human, though a boy, immediately had a desire to hasten. And he even succeeded in keeping abreast of Bradford and his cousin, so that only the most im- personal conversation was possible. But, after all, both Miss Phillipps and her cousin felt that that sort of conversation might be the best for them both. She had not found Keats so open to talk as he had been that day when he had sought her in London. But he had come to her then because the impulse was on him. He must talk. Now evi- dently he was in a different mood. She had hoped and almost believed that if she were with him she might make affairs clearer. She glanced at him al- 176 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD most shyly. She fancied his browned face was stern- er ; that there was sofliething hard about it ; just where she could not tell. After all, she was only a third person. Still she by no means classed herself with the ordinary third per- son. Was she not Vanessa Phillipps ? But this con- sciousness was not always as exhilarating as it might be. It was really absurd to see two people going on as Keats and Rowena were going on. And now there would be scores of people running to see Rowena. Mrs. Appleton-Sears was only waiting for permission from Rowena to take her up and make a lioness of her. A great many thoughts went back and forth in this woman's mind as she cantered over the plain. But she soon began to talk with that half-indifferent man- ner that she sometimes adopted. When she was not on a hobby, Miss Phillipps was liable to be indiffer- ent. She insisted upon riding fast. She believed that there were letters in the bag for her cousin. And though he showed not the least impatience, she be- lieved he felt impatient. The time came, the greetings being over at the ranch, when Bradford went to his own room. He had half a dozen letters and a bundle of papers. He flung them down and stood looking at them. He selected the envelopes bearing Rowena's writing. He held them in his hand a moment, his face set and intent. At that instant he was telling himself that he would go where he could not receive letters from her. It was ridiculous for him to keep on in this way. He AT THK RANCH 1 77 would — When his thoughts reached this point he laughed as people sometimes laugh at themselves when alone. "As if I were the first man who cannot forget a woman's face," he thought. Then he leisurely opened the envelope bearing the earlier postmark. He had resolved that his fingers should not hasten, whatever the pace his blood might take. He was keenly aware that every time he received a letter from his wife he hoped — what did he hope ? But if he were where he did not receive them, then would not this infernal sensation of hope be annihi- lated ? Now he spread open the pages. Rowena wrote very freely to him always. There was with her when ad- dressing him a sensation of safety. She could call it nothing else. Now she told of finishing her picture. It was thus far her best. She mentioned her weariness after it was done. She told with a gayety not without a flavor of bitterness how "tried" Sarah Kimball had been with her because of her absorption in her labor. She said she knew he could sympathize with her sister. Although he had never told her how wearing she was with her palette and brush, she was sure he had known what Sarah Kimball so freely expressed. How was he ever going to forgive her ? Here the sheet rustled in Bradford's hold. She mentioned Vanessa's departure. She confessed she had "cried a very little" about that; she hardly knew 178 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD why. She supposed Vanessa was with him now. And his cousin would ride, and be enthusiastic ; and peo- ple would fall in love with her, and then, why then, Vanessa would be ready to come home and try some- thing else. " Sometimes I think," wrote Rowena, " that I should like to be like that. Take up a person and then drop him. Be devoted to something and then not care for it. It must be so educating, and it insures against a heartache. But, you see, Keats, I was a poor country-girl, with one idea in my head. And I know one-ideaed people are so tedious." She described her picture. It was evident that she restrained herself here a good deal lest she might bore him. In the second letter she wrote about losing Marma- duke, and about his restoration to her. She said she was afraid she was making a fetich of the dog. She was very grateful to Mr. Soule, who had not remained in the South. But she had told him of that gentle- man's accident, and how she and her sister had visited him in the hospital. This portion of the epistle seemed stiff to Bradford. He wondered about that. There was a mention of the art critics who were kind enough to notice her work. She sent him some papers. Alles- tree had called to congratulate her. At the end she was " very affectionately, Rowena." That was the way she wrote to him. Bradford placed the letters on the table. He made no movement towards opening the other documents. He looked about him. He put his hand to his fore- head and found it damp. He spoke half aloud to him- AT THE RANCH I 79 self. For people who are not on the stage do some- times make very short soliloquies. " I wonder what made her ' cry a little ' when Vanes- sa left her ? Does she still have that lurking passion for my cousin ? Of course, Vanessa thinks I am a donkey not to know how to win Rowena's love. She knew how. Unfortunately it is not an art one may communicate." Bradford turned mechanically to make some change in his toilet, preparatory for the late lunch. Then he had an impulse to reread his letters. But he resisted that impulse. "There is nothing between the lines, absolutely nothing," he thought. At the lunch-table there was considerable talk about what was going on in the East, meaning Boston. Of course art was mentioned. Miss Phillipps said that sometimes people were not utterly stupid. Sometimes even a professional critic knew a good thing when he saw it, and, what was more, was not afraid to say so. For instance, they were recognizing Mrs. Bradford's power. Lister remarked that he had noticed that it was quite easy to recognize the power of an attractive woman, and of course Bradford's wife was an attract- ive woman. This roused Miss Phillipps into a strong invective against the way men had of judging a woman's work. She hoped the time would come when work would be judged as work; her cousin Rowena would shrink angrily from any other judgment. l8o MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Bradford listened in silence. When he saw an open- ing he changed the conversation. He found that it was growing more and more difficult for him to hear his wife's name mentioned. As he joined in the gay talk that was going on round the table he was very grim in the secret recesses of his mind, where, as his cousin might have said, his real self, his ego, dwelt. He was getting resentful and indignant also still in those same secret recesses of the ego. Indignant with himself that he had no power, since he could not change circumstances, to change his attitude towards those circumstances. An absorbing vocation would be a fine thing for him now. Unfortunately he could not help himself, on the instant, to an absorbing vo- cation, as he now helped himself to sugar for his cup of chocolate. Was there no office he might "run for?" People seemed quite absorbed, he had noticed, in run- ning for office. He advised himself to occupy his mind. While he was talking he was recalling Vanessa's very recent advice to him to go home and make love to his wife. The advice, when it was given to him, and now that it came back with renewed emphasis, was of a kind that had a certain inebriating stimulation in it. The more he thought of it the less powerful was that inward grimness. Nevertheless it was not advice upon which he intended to act. Quite the contrary. We sometimes love to think of things we never mean to do, because it would be so agreeable if we could do them. In Boston the next few weeks passed more slowly AT THE RANCH l8l than usual with Rowena. Because she was not at work. She was made much of by Mrs. Sears. She was at re- ceptions, concerts, she hardly knew what. Mrs. Sears gave a reception in her honor. Slie thought people were very kind to her. But a crowd of people op- pressed and wearied her. She did not wish to appear interested when she was really bored. It seemed a kind of sacrilege to force a smile so often. One can- not feel like smiling hour after hour. She made up her mind that she could never be what is called a "society woman." She confessed as much to Mrs. Sears, who only laughed and said that one at last grew to wish to be bored. She took Sarah Kimball to a great many plays and to some of the concerts. Among the last was a " re- cital " by that young man with the thin foreign face and the rampant, unconventional hair. Sarah Kim- ball had expected somebody to " recite pieces." She said if she had known it was no such thing as that she wouldn't have gone. She never did care much for piano playing. She had heard a good deal of it at one time, for a school-mate of hers had been a " real good player ;" could play " The Shepherd Boy '' quite remarkable. She wondered how this fellow made his hair fly up like that. Could it be by means of any kind of crimping-pins ? It was odd that a man should want his hair like that. Rowena found that a great many people were amused and interested by this prattle of her sister's. Perhaps the fact that Sarah Kimball was so pretty had something to do with this interest — and she was 1 82 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD growing prettier. Rowena thought there was more in her face, somehow. Possibly that was because she was older, and was seeing something of life. Mr. Soule had ceased to make his frequent calls. He did not come at all. Sarah Kimball wondered at first about this fact. Rowena suggested that he might have left town. He might have gone South again. SOMETHING OF A MXSTERY 1 83 XIII SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY But if Mr. Soule did not call, there were others to attract Sarah Kimball's attention. Notably there was Mr. Ferdinand Foster. He had not yet brought his sister, because she had been summoned to visit an aunt who was ill. " But his sister wanted to come. She remembered Mrs. Bradford so well when she had been Miss Tuttle. No one could help remembering her who had known her." Mr. Foster bowed when he said this, and Rowena coiald not show how dis- tasteful that kind of compliment was to her. Mr. Foster had so many waistcoats and so many trousers that the redundancy of these garments was almost confusing. Rowena had not distinctly noticed this profusion until her sister called her attention to the fact. And his neckties ! Sarah Kimball asserted that his neckties were something wonderful. She fell into the habit of discussing them, and the pins with " which they were adorned : dogs' heads, and swords, and cats' heads, and small gold banjoes besprent with brilliants, and a gold and enamel dumb-bell, at each end of which was a shining emerald. Sarah Kimball laughed as she used to enumerate these things, but she acknowledged that she thought 184 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Mr. Foster was the best-dressed gentleman she had ever seen. She didn't know gentlemen could be so fine. And Mr. Foster's gloves were always very light in tint and always extremely tight, so that his fingers looked much like diminutive sausages. And he used perfumes freely, sometimes one kind, sometimes an- other. When Mr. Foster found that Mrs. Caroline Apple- ton-Sears was a friend of Rowena's, he manifested great interest. After many hints, which were not no- ticed at all, he asked Rowena if she could get him invited to one of those Beacon Street parties. He knew about Mrs. Sears. He thought it would suit him first-rate to be acquainted with her. When you got into the right set in Boston you were fixed. He would rather be in the right set in Boston than in any other city on the face of the globe. He was thinking of getting a house on Commonwealth Avenue. A man there owed him a lot of money, and if they could make a trade he should have that house, and he and his sister set up house-keeping there. Beacon Street wa'n't nothing to the Avenoo, when you come to money. Did Mrs. Bradford think she could get him in there at Mrs. Sears's ? Rowena suppressed a shudder as she told him frankly that she should not try. That Mrs. Sears had some ideas of her own as to whom she would receive. She should not suggest any one to her. Then seeing Mr. Foster's crestfallen expression, she began to floun- der into more explanations, which did not explain. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Bradford," he said; "I SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY 1 85 guess I shall manage to survive if I don't go to Mrs. Appleton-Sears's house. But I thought that you, be- ing Keats Bradford's wife, and Mr. Bradford being 'one of the genuine upper-crust of the Hub, you could give me a boost's well's not." Rowena made some inarticulate response. There had always been a great deal of jarring in her ac- quaintance with Mr. Foster, but had he really been as vulgar as he was now? • She did not feel that she could waste her time in listening to him. When he had gone, Sarah Kimball took her to task for refusing to try to get Mr. Foster in at Mrs. Sears's. The girl protested that " she had always used to think Roweny was accommydating, but she was changed about that. She was changed about ever so many things. It was mean not to have Mr. Foster go to Mrs. Sears's." Rowena listened as long as she could. She took up a drawing-pad and began sketching on it. She felt despairingly how useless it was to try to make her companion understand. As she sat there sketching, Sarah Kimball con- tinued to talk for some time. But very soon her sis- ter ceased to hear her. As her pencil moved over the paper, the idea of a "subject" suddenly came to her. She tore off the sheet and began again on an- other. Her face flushed, her mouth was closed with that look of absorption which the girl watching her knew so well. Sarah Kimball became silent and sulky. An hour later Rowena put aside her pencils. She looked at the place where her sister had been sitting. l86 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD But her sister was not there. Rowena was eager now. It was Saturday afternoon. There had been a snow- storm a few days ago. The soiled, slushy stuff had been all carried from the streets, but out in the coun- try it would be lying lovely and white on the fields and hills. And she wanted the effect of snow in a hollow between some pines. She knew the place. Her new picture began to grow before her eyes. Her pulse beat at the thought of it. There were two hours before the train left which would take her to Middle Village. She had written to her mother the day before. She and her sister would go out this afternoon and sur- prise her. Perhaps she could stay a week. Her heart smote her at thought of how lonely her mother must be. But Mrs. Tuttle had strenuously objected to every suggestion of any change. Rowena could only see that she had many comforts and conven- iences which she had lacked before. It was all she could do unless she remained at home. But why was Sarah Kimball gone now ? Rowena almost felt a movement of anger at the girl's absence. She reflected that this anger was unreasonable, and she tried to overcome it. But she was irritated. She endeavored to recall some hint given by her sister as to where she was going. She knew that Sarah Kimball might have told her, and that she might not have heard because she was preoccupied. At last she almost convinced herself that her sister had said something about visiting a certain trimming-store on Winter Street. The girl liked to stroll on that street. SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY 187 look in at the windows, or go into some shop and bother the clerks. It was at such times that Sarali Kimball felt her importance as a " city girl," and as a sister of Mrs. Keats Bradford. Rowena hurriedly decided to go quickly down that street and back again on the chance of meeting, and she would engage a carriage to take them to the sta- tion. Her heart was now so fixed upon going home that afternoon that it seemed to her she could not give up the intention ; that something vital depended upon the journey. The days were longer now. "As the days length- ened the cold strengthened." The distant, unsympathetic sky of February was glittering above the city as Rowena crossed Tremont Street, an excoriating wind swept over the Common. The dwellers in Boston know how harsh and relent- less that wind can sometimes be. Rowena shivered and held her muff up to her face. She almost ran. The car conductors were slapping their arms against their chests. The sparrows were al- most insolent in their activity. A hot-chestnut vender stood with his grimy hands on his steaming oven. Noses were red and lips were blue. As she went on Rowena's eye scanned every figure. Of course the chances were that she would not see her sister. But there was Sarah Kimball just turning in at a store. She was the only person who was not moving rapidly. Indeed, she was hesitating and looking about her as one hesitates and looks who is expecting to meet some- body. l88 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD This attitude of her sister's was inexpressibly start- ling and alarming to Rowena. Surely Sarah Kim- ball's friends might call on her. Then Rowena smiled to herself at her anxiety. Why should not Sarah Kimball have made an appointment with some ac- quaintance ? But she must go and speak to her sister. She must tell her of the sudden intention to go out home that night. Rowena had just stepped off the pavement to cross the street, when she saw a messenger-boy come saun- tering along the sidewalk opposite. Few save mes- senger-boys would wish to saunter on such a day. When he reached the entrance to that store he stopped and looked boldly at every woman's face. He looked at Rowena, who had crossed. She could not tell why she was so interested in this boy's movements. He seemed to hesitate when he saw her. He came to her. He glanced at the envelope in his hand. " Miss S. K. Tuttle ?" he asked. Rowena could only shake her head negatively. She would not tell him which one was Miss S. K. Tuttle. " You don't jest fill the bill," he said. " But she was to be along here somewheres." He walked away from her. This was very curious. Sarah Kimball had now gone just within the store. Her sister, shivering outside, felt as if she were guilty of something, she knew not what, and that she was lurking. But of course the girl would tell all about this odd little incident. SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY 189 It was not a moment before the boy came out with- out the envelope. He darted between the horses' heads and the carriages and was out of sight. Now Rowena entered the store. She resented the fact that she had a sense that she was some sort of a conspirator. She did not discover her sister directly. When she did see her the girl was leaning against a showcase ; her face was crimson, and had an angrj', disappointed look upon it. The elder woman was also struck, as she had never been before, with the beauty of that face. It was more than pretty — it was beautiful. Agitated, annoyed as she was, Rowena yet had the self-command to walk calmly up to her sister, and to say, almost in her usual tone : " I came out on the chance of finding you. It has just occurred to me that we might go home this after- noon. We have time, since I have found you so soon." The girl stared for an instant in silence. She was as thunderstruck at sight of her sister now as if the two were not living together in Boston. She put her handkerchief to her lips. She swal- lowed as a child does who is trying to conquer an in- clination to have a crying fit. Rowena turned away. She would not watch the girl. " Mother will be so glad to see us," she said. She walked to a box of gloves. She took them up, pair after pair, and looked at them with blind eyes. What kind of an experience was this which had come 1 90 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD to this girl, this child who was in her care ? And how had she, the elder sister, performed her own duty? That one glance at the young face had banished every hope that this was an insignificant affair ; in- significant, that is, in Sarah Kimball's eyes. But then girls sometimes suffered and wept over such trivial things. Telling herself this, Rowena began to hope again. It seemed to her a long time before the girl came to her and said : " Did you speak of going home to-night ?" "Yes," glancing at her watch. "There is time. Would you like to go ?'' " Yes," indifferently. The two went back to Park Street. After a very little time Rowena became aware that her sister was not going to confide in her. This knowledge brought a disproportionate alarm with it. Again Rowena felt that she did not understand this girl, that she could not judge her in the least by any standard she could apply to herself. They lost no time. When the train that stopped at the station for Middle Village pulled slowly out of the city the sisters and the terrier were in it. Sarah Kimball roused up to considerable interest when they had really started. She confessed to the anticipation of the time, on the morrow, when she should " go to meeting " in the new clothes her sister had given her. She did not believe there had ever been such a jacket or muff in that meeting-house, and her fur cap — her face grew brighter and brighter as SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY 191 they neared their home. There was Mr. Jenks hold- ing a lantern on the platform. He was bound about with " comforters," as was usual with him in the winter. Rowena had been right about the snow. The coun- try lay white before them. It was sleighing. They could not undertake to walk home now. It was half- past six, and it seemed as if it were midnight. The train went rolling away into the snow-lightened gloom. The hills about sullenly answered the roar of the locomotive. Mr. Jenks lifted his lantern and looked at the two. The tip of his nose and his eyes were visible between his comforter and his cap. " Holloa," he said, " so it's you, is it ? I s'pose you're come out to try the sleighin'. It's tip-top now. Phil Barrett was over here for the other train, but I guess he won't come again. Some scarlet - fever round, but ain't ben no deaths yet. Sim Dill's baby is real low." Rowena felt that she could not stay in the cold while Mr. Jenks talked about Sim Dill's baby. She moved towards the one room of the station. She saw through the unblinded, uncurtained window the small cylinder stove standing red-hot in the middle of the apartment. Sarah Kimball, holding her head con- sciously high, feeling that she had been residing in Boston, followed her sister, and Marmaduke followed Sarah Kimball. Mr. Jenks qame and stamped his feet heavily and finally entered, closing the 4oQr af^er him. His lantern 1 9-2 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD was the only illumination in the place save that given by the stove. The station-master was confident that he would be asked to carry these two over into the other neigh- borhood, and he was wondering " how stiff a price he could charge without their kickin'." He guessed shrewdly that the older Tuttle girl would not deign to haggle with him. He also guessed that $3 would be about the thing. He waited. He did not quite like the way in which Sarah Kimball looked at him. And still more he re- sented the fact that Mrs. Bradford did not look at him at all. After a moment, during which they all stood around the stove, Rowena turned her eyes towards him and said they wished to be taken to Mrs. Tuttle's. "All right," responded Mr. Jenks, trying to tighten his comforter, which already appeared as if its wearer had suicidal intentions. Sarah Kimball put a strong elbow into her sisteir's side. " Ask him how much it'll be," she said, in a loud whisper. " How much will it be ?" repeated Rowena. And it was well that she did so, for Mr. Jenks had already mentally added another dollar. He com- promised now by saying $3 50, as " there was two of urn. He'd throw in the dorg." When the two had waited more than an hour for Mr. Jenks to go home and " tackle up " and return they started. They went in a "pung." This is a SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY 193 vehicle which is not in the least conducive to that at- titude expressed by the word "loll." Indeed, Mr. Jenks remarked as he stepped out of this that " folks who wanted to loll must try some other kind of riding." If you put a long box on " runners," you have a pung. If you wish to increase the luxury of the turn- out, lay some boards across the box for seats. These boards sometimes slip off at one end and the occu- pant goes down into the body of the box with con- siderable suddenness. A pung wobbles a good deal. It makes unexpected plunges on an apparently level track. When it comes to a " thank-you-ma'am," the effect is such that you wish you were not in a pung. Rowena and her sister, with the terrier between them, placed themselves on the back seat. A very strongly odorating horse-blanket had been consider- ately folded and laid on this board. It was so un- mistakably a horse-blanket that it was quite stiff from having been much worn and much laid down in by the animal now in the shafts. Sarah Kimball turned up her nose quite audibly. They were given a buffalo-skin, with only a few tufts of hair left upon it. This they tucked about them and tried to keep its rough ends from flying out in the north-west wind. Meantime Mr. Jenks was laboriously putting his lantern somewhere in the front, so that its rays might fall ahead instead of blindingly upon him only. He grunted a good deal as he did so. At last he stepped onto the side of the box, pausing to knock the toe of 13 194 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD each boot against the wood. Then he gathered up the reins and said, " Giddup." The horse strained as if he had had a cord of wood behind him ; the pung creaked, and they had started. Right into the north-west wind they were going at not much more than a foot's pace. The bells on the horse sounded slowly " jin-gle, jan-gle." The lantern made a strange, confusing light. The stars were sharply bright in the clear, dark sky. Every few moments the buffalo-skin flew out from the place where Rowena or her sister had endeavored to put it permanently. The two in the back of the pung soon began to shiver in that way which is so distressing and so un- controllable. Rowena tried for some time to look up at the mag- nificence of the heavens. But she soon gave up the attempt. She held her head down against the wind and surrendered to her physical misery. BEHIND THE LOOMIS HORSE 195 XIV BEHIND THE LOOMIS HORSE The two on the back seat of the pung had already been on that back seat for hours, slowly moving into the north-west wind — or it seemed as if it were hours ; and they were only a little more than half-way now. " Mr. Jenks," said Rowena. She found that her chin and lips were so stiff that she could hardly form those words. " Wall ?" responded Mr. Jenks, with a slight side- wise movement of his head in her direction. " Will it be any inducement for you to drive faster if I give you a dollar more for taking us to the other neighborhood ?" " Ain't you bright !" hoarsely whispered Rowena's sister. " He'll make you pay the doUjir, and he won't drive any faster, either. I know that old horse, and I should think you'd remember it, too. It's the one Mr. Loomis had when we were little girls, and he sold it to Mr. Jenks for his express business." She laughed feebly as she finished speaking. Rowena groaned. She remembered the Loomis horse very well. She would have recognized it if it had been daylight. On her way to school she had often been picked up by Mr. Loomis, who had come 196 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD along in his open wagon with the high panelled back to the seat. He would draw in the lines and say : " Holloa, little gal ! don't you want me to give you a lift?" Rowena would shyly say, " Thank you," and then clamber in and rest her dinner-pail on her knee, while the old horse — she thought it was old then — would go just as the same horse was going now. The pace was as if life on this earth were a thousand years in length. Rowena always had a nervous fear that she should be tardy when Mr. Loomis "gave her a lift." She never dared to refuse, however. And Mr. Loomis always peered down into her face, and exclaimed, with great surprise : " Why, it's one of Hiram Tuttle's little gals, ain't it?" Then he would chuckle, and say, "I s'pose you expect to git a nice husband some of these days." He never failed of making these remarks, and Row- ena never failed of hating him with youthful fervor when he spoke about the nice husband. She used to sit with her dinner-pail held rigidly in its place on her knee and furtively watch him. She mentally made a sketch of him every time. Once she put this mental sketch into objective form in the back of Gremleaf s Arithmetic, and passed it to her seat-mate, who was Georgia Warner. Georgia giggled, and said, in a whis- per, "Why, it's old Mr. Loomis!" and she passed on the arithmetic, and it had gone down a whole row of girls, each one recognizing the portrait. The tenth girl laughed aloud. She was immediately summoned out on the floor with the book in her hand. BEHIND THE LOOMIS HORSE I97 The child was sternly asked what she was laughing at. She extended the Greenleaf, uttering the one word, " That." The teacher took the book, gave one glance, then moved abruptly away towards the blackboard. After a moment she turned sternly towards the school, and made this inquiry, in dry, judicial tones : "Who did this ?" holding up the book. Rowena, very pale and frightened, raised her hand. She was told to stay after school. But the teacher had only given the child a friendly lecture concerning the necessity of being respectful to the aged, and not making sketches of them. This episode came back to Rowena when she knew she was again being "hauled" over the road by the Loomis horse. It came back with such vividness that it might have happened the week before. She knew that they could not go any faster, and that they must submit, even if they died from the chill that was creeping into the marrow of their bones. " Do you think we can walk the rest of the way ?" Rowena put this question to her sister. She tried to see the track ahead of them or behind them. It was a narrow track, not very well trodden, and there was no foot-path. Mr. Jenks, that he might claim his extra dollar, was now frequently shaking the lines, and saying, " Giddup," in a conversational kind of a tone that had no effect, and that was not expected to have any effect. When the horse stumbled and floundered more than usual, his driver remarked that the old horse was "jest's balled up's he could be. There hadn't ben 198 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD goin' to ball up a hoss so, not before this, winter." Mr. Jenks also added that " he didn't know's he ought to be blamed 'cause 'twas such a ballin'-up time." Sarah Kimball assured Rowena that it was of no use to get out and try to walk unless they had on rubber boots and bloomers. She supposed they should ball up too. Here she laughed in a way that showed she would very soon cry. " I hope mother's got a good fire," she said, almost with a sob. "And I sh'll ask her to make us some ginger tea. That is, if I'm alive when I get there." Marmaduke had by far the best of this drive into the other neighborhood. He was a wise person, and he knew when he was well off. He had pressed him- self well in between his mistress and Sarah Kimball. If the buffalo -skin slipped off the others, it never slipped off him. He was thus in a way to emerge at the end of the journey in good condition, and to be able to give effusive greetings. For the end of the journey did come. At last they saw the light in the kitchen at home. As the delib- erate jingle, jangle, of the bells on the old Loomis horse sounded in the farm-house yard, the back door opened and a dog rushed out with furious barking. A boy with his shoulders hunched up so that his head appeared sunk between them, and his hands in his pockets, appeared in the rays from the lantern fastened on the pung. " Buster ! I say. Buster ! Shet up, can't ye ?" This was Nathan Henry. His brother Martin followed BEHIND THE LOOMIS HORSE 199 behind him, and Martin's shoulders were also hunched with the cold. He also told Buster to " shet up." Of course the dog did not obey, but continued to bark and to fly frantically around the front legs of the Loomis steed. " Mother to home ?" asked Mr. Jenks. "Ee-upl" said Nathan Henry. " Ee-up !" said Martin. " I guess I've brought ye some folks you'll be glad to see," went on Mr. Jenks, stepping out of the pung, " Have you got a good fire ?" asked Sarah Kimball. The two young women in the back of the pung were' now trying to get out of the vehicle. But, though they were young and well, they at first found it diffi- cult to move, so stiff were they from the cold. Buster had discovered that there was a dog, and he had come and put his fore-feet on the edge of the pung, and was sniffing vigorously. Perhaps the dear reader has guessed that Buster is the bull-terrier which Rowena bought of the man who answered her advertisement for Marmaduke, and which she sent oiit to her brother. " Gorryl It's S. K.!" cried Nathan Henry. " And Roweny," said Martin. The two boys sub- mitted to be kissed. The Yorkshire terrier was very distant and what Nathan Henry called " h'isty " with the bull-terrier. " Mother ain't very well," said Nathan, " What !" said Rowena, almost sharply. " And you sent no word ? She promised to let me know if any- thing happened out of the ordinary here." 200 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Oh, I guess 'tain't much. It's only to-day, any- way. She's ben kinder cold 'n' shivery, 'n' she ain't eat much. She said she'd be better to-morrer." Nathan spoke with the easy optimism of youth which has little experience in suffering. At last the two passengers had found the use of their legs sufficiently to get onto the extremely nar- row path which the boys had shovelled to the door. This path was about one foot wide, and evidently was not made for the wearers of petticoats. Rowena suddenly thrust her purse into her sister's hand. " Will you pay him ?" she said, and turned quickly towards the door which led into the porch. Nathan followed her. " Martha S. is here," he remarked. But Rowena hardly heard him. She was possessed by a sudden terror, like that which used to come upon her some- times when she was a child, and had thought of the possibility of losing her mother. Mrs. Tuttle had risen from the large rocker which stood by the fire, and which was draped with bed- comforters. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were shining. " Roweny !" she exclaimed, holding out her arms. " I thought I heard your voice, but I couldn't believe it ! I couldn't believe it 1" She sank into her daughter's arms and put her head on the young shoulder. Neither of these two at this moment thought of Marthy S., who was standing the other side of the BEHIND THE LOOMIS HORSE 20I Stove, and who was silently and exhaustively examin- ing Rowena's clothes. "I ought. to have come before," Rowena said; " but you wrote you were so well, mother." She gently put her mother back in the chair and drew the comforters about her. " Yes," said Marthy S., in a righteously acid voice, " you'd oughter come before." " 'Tain't no such thing," said Mrs. Tuttle, eagerly. " I ain't ben so well in a long time's I've ben this win- ter till now, and I ain't needed neither of my girls a mite. Of course, Sarah Kimball's with you ?'' Rowena turned towards Marthy S. and held out her hand. " How de do. Miss Bradford," said the dress-maker. Something made it impossible for Rowena to give any audible response. The woman's small, curious eyes were boring into her. She turned away coldly. She knew that Marthy S. was saying to herself that " Rowena Tuttle was so set up because she had mar- ried one of them rich Boston Bradfords that she wouldn't speak to common folks," and Miss Hancock would also say this to every one she met. " Yes, Sarah Kimball is with me," said Rowena, replying to her mother's words. " I left her to pay Mr. Jenks. I know I was selfish ; I was in such a hurry to come in that I forgot that she was in a hurry, too." The girl now came breezily in. She was glad to see her mother. She kissed her emphatically. She nodded airily at Marthy S. She wasn't going to be 202 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD put down by that little old maid, and she wondered what the country dress -maker thought of the gown and the jacket and the fur cap that she, Sarah Kim- ball, was wearing. " Mr. Jenks didn't get his extra dollar, thanks to me," said the girl, with a laugh, as she returned her sister's purse. " But you'd have paid it. I just told him what was what, and he couldn't help himself." She spoke with great attention to the grammatical rules. She had been quite shocked at the way her brothers talked. She was frightened lest she should talk like them. Of course it would not make . any difference if she intended to live at home. But she did not intend to do that. She had quite other views. And these other views were still more accentuated in her mind now that she had come back, and really took in how she used to live. Sarah Kimball slowly removed her jacket and cap, knowing that Marthy S. was looking at her. She her- self was gazing at her mother. " What you need is a sweat," she said, with prac- tical wisdom. " If you take a good sweat now, you'll be all right in the morning. Then a dose of thorough- wort tea to bring up your appetite," " I was intending to give her a sweat when she went to bed," said Miss Hancock, with some stiffness. " We'll save you the trouble," v^/as the glib re- sponse. Though it was Sarah Kimball who suggested the treatment necessary, it was Rowena who carried out the suggestion. But the younger girl assisted. She BEHIND THE LOOMIS HORSE 203 made the pennyroyal infusion ; she was useful and busy. But it was Rowena who helped her mother to bed, who put the hot jugs about her and sat beside her. It was upon Rowena that the mother's eyes dwelt with such fond persistence. " I know I'm jest as foolish as I c'n be," said Mrs. Tuttle, with a happy smile, "but I'm mighty glad you happened to come to-night." Rowena sat in a low chair. She was leaning for- ward with her elbows on the bed. She smiled hope- fully and eagerly. Her mother's eyes drank in delight from the mere sight of her daughter's face. Often Rowena put out her hand and softly touched her mother's face. " Have you had old Mrs. McGee come in twice a week and do the hard work ?" she asked. " Oh yes." " And the washing and ironing ?" " Yes, indeed." " And make the butter ?" " Yes. I really ain't had enough to do, Roweny, and that's a fact. And the tea and coffee you sent out ! I declare I didn't know there could be such tea 'n' coffee. And the shawl, 'n' the dress. I was jiest goin' to have the dress cut. Marthy S. couldn't git round to it till now. She said the stuff for that dress was all wool, 'n' the finest she'd seen." As she listened to her mother's talk, Rowena was asking herself why it was there seemed so little she could do for her. 204 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Mrs. Tuttle had refused with a kind of terror the request that she go and live with Rowena in Boston. She could not have a " hired girl." A hired girl was one of the most embarrassing objects that could be introduced into a house. " I've been used to workin' all my life," she had said, " and 'twould be no benefit to me to stop me." She explained now how she had sewed patchwork, having more time than she had ever had before. She confided to Rowena that the blue and white bedquilt was to be hers, and the pink one Sarah Kimball's. She wanted Rowena to have the solid silver table- spoons, because she had always liked that sheaf of wheat pictured out on the handles. Rowena listened, her heart aching more and more. "The old desk that was your great-grandfather Joy's you must have, too. You like the queer old things, you know, and your sister wants new ones. Oh," breaking out with almost childish delight, " ain't I glad you happened to come to-night !" " I don't think you ought to talk any more now," said Rowena, almost in a whisper. She could not help adding fervently that her mother could not be so glad as she herself was. " I should think, Miss Bradford," said a voice at the door of the bedroom, " that you'd know your mother hadn't ought to be 'lowed to talk now she's tryin' to sweat." " 'Tain't her fault," said Mrs. Tuttle, quickly. " But I ain't goin' to talk any more, now." She shut her eyes and lay quite still. Her breath- BEHIND THE LOOMIS HORSE 205 ing was too short and too fast, and sometimes she gave a little short cough. But before an hour was spent she was asleep. There was a decided moisture on her face, and her breath jgrew better. Rowena still sat there. She was now resting her head on the edge of the bed. She was thinking of a great many things. She heard the noises (very much subdued in the kitchen) upon which the bedroom opened. Sometimes there rose the sound of the boys' voices, but the tones of Sarah Kimball immediately hushed them. Presently the girl came treading softly in and put her hand on her mother's forehead. She gave a satis- fied nod as she did so. She made a movement with her lips asking her sister to come out, and saying that there was no need to stay. But Rowena silently shook her head. She leaned again upon the bed, and at last she also fell asleep. She woke, stiff and chilly, just as the clock was striking nine. She found, when she rose, that Mar- maduke had established himself silently on her skirt as it lay on the floor. He now rolled off and stretched. She picked him up and went into the kitchen. The boys had gone to bed. Marthy S. sat at one side of the stove with her feet in the oven, and Sarah Kimball sat the other side with her feet in the oven. This was the old-fashioned cook-stove, which is not a range, and which has two oven doors. This arrange- ment as regards oven doors seems peculiarly con- venient in the winter in the country, where the placid 206 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD act of sitting with your feet in the oven becomes a positive luxury. It is almost the only time, when you are not in bed, when you are really warm enough. This position acts upon womankind something as smoking acts upon mankind. Sarah Kimball and the dress-maker were now con- versing in the most amicable manner about round waists and basques, and what Miss Hancock called " passymenterry," and skirts with folds at the bottom and skirts without folds. Marthy S. had just confessed that she had not yet "got the knack of cuttin' a bell-shaped skirt.'' She knew " bell-shapes was much worn." In the amiability induced by having her stockinged feet in the oven and her skirt folded back over her knees, Martha S. smiled at Rowena as she entered, and told her to draw a chair right up. Then she in- formed her that if "she had known jest how Miss Bradford had ben situated in Borston she might have visited her dooring the first of the winter. But now,'' she went on, " I don't s'pose I shall. I hadn't heard whether you had a spare room pr not.'' Rowena tried to say something hospitable, but did not succeed in any marked degree. She had never been very successful in what might be called conven- tional lying. But the dress-maker was occupied with her own thoughts, and did not notice any lack of cordial- ity. " I don't s'pose," she said, " you've heard nothin' special ?" BEHIND THE LOOMIS HORSE 207 She looked at her companions in a simpering, con- scious sort of way. " No," answered Rowena. " You know we've been away." " And your mother ain't written nothin' ?" " I don't recall anything," replied Rowena, trying to seem interested. Sarah Kimball now began to have a tantalizing ex- pression on her face. She had recalled something if her sister had not. Miss Hancock bridled visibly now. She hoped she was blushing. She put her hand over her face. She peered between her fingers at the others. " What is it ?" asked Rowena, encouragingly. " I'm thinkin' of changin' my condition," said Mar- thy S., in a weak voice. It was only by an effort that Rowena was keeping her mind superficially upon the subject. It followed then that she seemed, and was, very dull. " Your condition ?" she repeated, vaguely. " What a goose you are !" exclaimed Sarah Kim- ball, laughing noiselessly; " After much thought and prayer on the subject, I've finally made up my mind." Miss Hancock spoke very slowly. She was like one who rolls a sweet mor- sel on the tongue. She was eager to tell her news, but she wanted to be as long as she could in the telling. " Oh !" said Rowena. " I have finally yielded to Deacon Roper's per- suasions," announced the dress-maker. She put both 208 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD hands over her face. She continued in a smothered tone that " she hoped it was ordered for the best." " I congratulate you," gravely responded Rowena. She glanced, as she spoke, warningly at her sister. " Providence seemed to lead in that direction," re- marked Marthy S. " Providence generally does lead in the direction of widowers," said Sarah Kimball, flippantly. But the dress-maker was too much elated to care for any flippancy. " I told your mar," she said, " that hers would be about the last work I should probably do before the — the Event." BEING SECRETIVE 209 XV BEING SECRETIVE " I hope mar appreciated your kindness,'' said Sa- rah Kimball. " She seemed to do so. She seemed real grateful," replied Marthy S. She was so absorbed in the thought of the " Event " that she was entirely imper- vious to any shafts the girl might send. " Ain't you afraid you'll have your hands full taking care of his children ?" asked Sarah Kimball. " I think the Lord will assist," was the pious re- sponse. " What makes you think so ?" " Because the Scriptures are so rich in promises to orphans and — and—" Marthy S. floundered some- what here. She went on triumphantly, however, by repeating the remark about Providence leading in that direction. " There's a lot of children, ain't there ?" inquired the young girl, whose eyes sparkled, and who seemed to be determined to help the dress-maker to continue the subject as long as she wished. " Six. Three grown-ups. They are his first wife's. They are all married. Then there's the second wife's. They are kinder small. Their ages are ten and six 14 210 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD and three. I feel that I may need some guidance in training them." "They're girls, too, ain't they.? Land! I guess you'll need more 'n' guidance." Sarah Kimball gave another suppressed laugh. "You'll have to dress -make for them with a ven- geance." Rowena was gazing at their guest. She was asking herself why it was that this woman, who had laid up a few hundred dollars, who was thrifty, who was in- dependent, should marry that man. The thought went with a burning emphasis through her mind, and almost involuntarily she put the question aloud : " Miss Hancock, do you love Mr. Roper?" The low voice penetrated to the heart of the old maid as things had not done since she was young. It recalled one summer of her life when she had thought that she loved some one and that some one loved her. As it had turned out, the some one had not loved her. But she had had the experience all the same. It was the one place in her years about which clustered memories which were like the perfume of long dead roses. It had all happened when she had been visit- ing her cousin Lois "up country." No one knew anything about it " in these parts." Now, as Rowena asked this, Marthy S. felt as if the old rose petals were fluttering, and as if she inhaled their scent. She stared almost wildly at her ques- tioner. She pressed her hands together as she did so. With the suddenness of lightning her contem- plated marriage took on a different aspect to her. No BEING SECRETIVE 211 one had ever thought of asking if she loved that man whom she intended to marry. No one evidently had thought that she, the poor old - maid dress - maker, could love. A strange and disturbing warmth came to her heart. She continued looking at Rowena, whose own gaze dwelt with something almost like tenderness on the small, wrinkled face turned towards her. At this moment there was no antagonism between these two. Rowena rose from her seat. With an impulsive gesture, she put one hand on the woman's shoulder and bent over her. "Miss Hancock," she whispered, "I hope you won't marry Deacon Roper unless you love him." There was a silence of some moments. Then Marthy S. rose and tremulously lighted a small hand-lamp. She walked to the door and said good-night. But she came back, and said very gently to Rowena : " I do think your mar seems as if she'd be better to-morrer." Then the two heard her going up the stairs to her bed. Sarah Kimball sat leaning her head on one hand and looking at her sister, who was going noiselessly about the room, putting it to rights. Rowena stopped before her and said : " You may have the front room, you know. I shall stay here all night." The girl suddenly seized a fold of her sister's gown. "Oh, ain't you queer? What's the name of the something in you, I wonder ?" 212 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Rowena smiled. She had not the least idea what the girl meant. " Go to bed," she advised. " I shall have naps in this big chair, and if mother wants any- thing I shall be here." The girl made a faint remonstrance, but she obeyed. Rowena found herself alone in the kitchen. She went to the open bedroom door and saw that her mother was still sleeping. She noiselessly put more wood in the stove. Then she sat down in the rocker and leaned her head back. At first she thought of Marthy S., and of how strangely the dress maker had looked at her a few moments ago. At last she found she was thinking with intentness of Robert Soule.- She had thus far resolutely kept the remembrance away from her. But now it would come ; and it caused her lips to shut tightly and a set look to come to her eyes. She was going over with unshrinking scrutiny all those visits she and her sister had made at the hos- pital when Soule had been there. She had been very sorry for him, in a way; she had liked him. What had her manner been to him? She lashed herself with cruel questions as the supersensitive, conscien- tious soul will do. Yes, it must have been her fault. But she had not meant it ; she had not meant it. And Keats — she suddenly started up from her chair and stood upright, a sense of something unbearable upon her. She wrung her hands together in a controlled manner. She could never forget that Soule had dared to speak thus, and look thus. She could never forget it. Do not smile at her because she was still so young as to think an emotion would last forever. BEING SECRETIVE 213 When she had stood thus a moment she began to smile in self-derision. She ceased to twist her hands. "I am behaving like a melodramatic actress," she thought. She sat down again. The room was only half lighted. Sometimes the sheet-iron " fire-board," which had been placed in front of the great fireplace when the cook-stove was put up, gave a low groan and rattle as the wind swept down into the chimney. There were a great many sounds in the old house. A score of witches might have been about. At last Rowena fell asleep, with her head thrown back and a faded patchwork quilt wrapped about her feet. In the morning they all thought that Mrs. Tuttle was better. There would be no need to send for a doctor, after all. But she was very weak. Miss Hancock and Sarah Kimball prepared breakfast. Rowena helped her mother to dress after she had made a fire in the room where she had slept when she had come home from Europe. She was touched to find her easel in the same place, and many articles just where she had left them. " I kinder hated to move um," Mrs. Tuttle said, as she entered this room on Rowena's arm at the late hour of eight o'clock that morning. " P'raps you'll paint some in here now, 'n' I can see you do it," said the mother, proudly, as she sank down in the chair that was drawn to the stove. She coughed two or three times. She looked up happily at her daughter. And Rowena in the days that followed found much 214 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD comfort in painting, while her mother sat contentedly and watched her. Mrs. Tuttle, contrary to expecta- tion, did not fret because she could not go immedi- ately to work. This front -room became hers, and she wanted Rowena always with her. She said Sarah Kimball could do the housework well enough. Sarah Kimball was " tough," she affirmed, and old Mrs. McGee could come in every forenoon. It was strange and almost startling how this woman, who had always been so laboriously busy, could so easily let her work slip out of her hands. Marthy S. privately informed Rowena that she thought this was a "bad sign." She saw that her hearer grew pale at the words, and she hastened to say that she didn't, for her part, " put no dependence on signs.'' Since that first evening the dress-maker did not seem to dislike " Miss Bradford " as she had done. Every day Mrs. Tuttle made Rowena go out for a walk, and that was the only time when she would bear her eldest daughter to be out of her sight. Again Rowena borrowed Nathan Henry's rubber boots, and with Buster and Marmaduke making the snow fly in their antics, she would go across a pasture back of the house until she came to a wide hollow that sloped upward, and that was almost surrounded with young pines and birches. It was this place that she had come out from Boston to study. She went at alP times of the day. She saw it in every light. She made scores of sketches of it. She thought she at last came to recognize the crows which flew over it. BEING SECRETIVK 215 She knew the kingbird that came occasionally to sit on the old fence beyond. Once she saw the rabbit whose tracks she had come upon for two days. What phase of that clear, unsympathetic sky did she not know? And what snowy cloud was unfamiliar to her? When she came back to the "front-room" she would try different bits with oil on canvas. Her mother would watch and talk and doze. At the end of a fortnight, though Mrs. Tuttle said every day that she was better, and really seemed no worse, Rowena wrote to Mrs. Sears. She begged that lady to send the physician she deemed most trustworthy in such cases as she tried to describe. Mrs. Sears telegraphed back an answer, which Mr. Jenks delivered. And on the second day Mr. Jenks brought over, by means of the Loomis horse, a large gentleman in a fur coat and with a fur cap pulled over his ears and almost over his face. This person was very mild-mannered and very hopeful. He used a stethoscope. He asked a great many gentle ques- tions. He said " H'm — ah — yes," at every answer that Mrs. Tuttle or Rowena gave him. But his eyes were very keen. He remarked that he would prescribe a tonic : that they had done very well with the patient. That nourishing food would be better than medicine ; that when spring opened — " h'm — ah — yes." And he went away with Rowena's check on Royle's in his pocket. "That's jest what I told you," said Mrs. Tuttle, 2l6 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD triumphantly. " I told you that when spring came, you know." Meanwhile, in name, at least, spring had come, for it was March. But it was really the dreariest part of the winter. Two days after the doctor's visit Rowena received word that her picture, "In Mid- August," was sold, and at a figure that made her heart jump, not because of the money itself, but for what it meant. It was still, however, to remain on exhibition. She told her mother, and Mrs. Tuttle laughed joy- ously. Rowena set to work in earnest now on " Mid- Winter." She was soon under the influence of that sublime frenzy which sometimes dominates the true worker. It was these two pictures, though the latter was not finished until nearly a year later, that estab- lished Rowena's position as one of the best interpre- ters of country scenes. They gave to her a reputa- tion for certain touches which no one else could command, and which told how lovingly Nature had revealed to her some of her secrets. But the painter could not forget her mother as she had forgotten her sister. She felt so keenly the mother's love and pride that this presence was always soothing to her. You are likely to be soothed by one who thinks that whatever you do is right. " Something's wrong with Sarah Kimball," suddenly remarked Mrs. Tuttle from her rocker in the front- room. Rowena turned towards her in surprise. BEING SECRETIVE 217 " Yes," said Mrs. Tuttle. " She's dretfully outer sorts, some way. She keeps snubbin' Philup till I sh'd think he'd stop comin' here. Jim Townshend says Phil Barrett don't have no sort of luck with the Tuttle girls, 'n' he sh'd think he'd try some other family." The speaker laughed deprecatingly. Then she went on soberly, and with some anxiety : " Sarah Kimball's real pretty, and she seems to be goin' to have a fit if she can't go to the post-office every Thursday 'n' Saturday. I d'now what to make of it. Did she see anybody in particular up to Bos- ton ? Last Saturday, you know, Nathan Henry didn't git home from havin' the boss sharped till it was too late for her to go over to the office. She had a reg'lar cryin' spell. Do you think she see nobody in Bos- ton ?" repeating the question with still more anxiety. Rowena had quickly laid down her palette and brush. She came and stood by her mother's chair. She was trying to think. Before she could answer, Mrs. Tuttle drew from her pocket an envelope. " I picked that up on the kitchen floor," she said, "when I went out to dinner to-day. There ain't nothin' in it, but I s'pose there was. I guess she got it last night. She's been brighter to-day. Do you know the writin' ? I wish she wasn't so close-mouthed. And how awful pretty she's grown, ain't she ?" " Yes, she has," said Rowena. She had taken the envelope and was looking at it. Had she not seen that slim, angular handwriting? 2l8 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD The Stamp was that of the Back Bay post-office. She turned over the bit of paper. She knew that her mother was looking at her eagerly. " She didn't meet many people in Boston," re- marked Rowena, thoughtfully. " I was busy ; we lived very quietly indeed. I think she found it rather dull, sometimes." " Wa'n't there no young men ?" inquired Mrs. Tut- tle. " I s'pose she saw somebody." Rowena now turned with a quick movement. She went to a portable desk and took from it a handful of photographs of scenes in Venice. Before her mind had risen the picture of her atelier in Paris, of herself and Keats and two others, one of whom was Mr. Soule. They had all been looking over these photo- graphs. Of this particular one Mr. Soule had spoken in terms of warm approbation. He had held a pen- cil in his hand, and had scribbled his name on the back, after a sentence of praise. Rowena shuffled the cards over. Yes, there it was. She stood with her back to her mother as she com- pared the two writings. They were identical. Robert Soule, then, was corresponding with her sister. And he had gained a hold upon her. And why was the affair clandestine ? And could it be possible that such a man was really interested in such a girl? And though Rowena had once had a sort of liking for the man, though she had admired his keen intellect and enjoyed talking with him, there had never been a mo- ment when she would have trusted him with the hap- piness of any one for whom she cared. Now most BEING SECRETIVE 219 thoroughly she distrusted him. He was amusing himself. Or, even if he were sincere, the affair seemed hardly improved in her eyes. As she stood there, with the bit of card and the en- velope in her hand, a hot anger against Mr. Soule took the place of every other emotion. She believed that Sarah Kimball might be made to suffer ; but she had youth, an utterly unimaginative nature, and much self-conceit to aid her in bearing any kind of a blow. The elder sister remembered how the girl had declared an intention of " going with Mr. Soule,'' if she chose to do so. And then Rowena shrank from the fact that Sarah Kimball must think it eminently proper to form a friendship with a friend of her sister. " What you thinkin' 'bout ?" asked Mrs. Tuttle from her rocker by the air-tight. The reply came as lightly as the speaker could frame it. " Oh, this affair of Sarah Kimball's, of course. Per- haps she thinks it makes a correspondence more in- teresting to be secret about it. I'll speak to her." " I wish you would," remarked Mrs. Tuttle, with an air of relief. "It's kinder plagued me. But don't forget that your sister's real set." " I know she is set." Mrs. Tuttle took up a stocking intended for Mar- tin which lay on her lap. She knit round once. Then she laid it down. She coughed. " I've ben thinkin' often of what an agreeable man that friend of yours that called here was. I can t seem to think of his name." 220 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " Do you mean Mr. Soule ?" Rowena felt herself entering a maze of difficulty as she spoke. " Yes, that's the name. He was about the agreeablest man I ever did see. And how he understood a per- son, didn't he, Roweny ?" No answer. " I've ben thinkin'," repeated Mrs. Tuttle, " that if Sarah Kimball shouldn't really take a notion to Philup, 'n' if such a thing could happen 's that Mr. Soule fan- cyin' her, how grand 'twould be, wouldn't it ?" She turned a pleased face towards her daughter, whose own face was somewhat averted. " But then, of course, that's all just as silly as it can be," went on the mother. " Still, if I do say it, there ain't many girls as pretty as Sarah Kimball. 'N' that's what men like. She's prettier than you ever was, Roweny?" " Oh, a great deal." "But she ain't — wall, I don't know what 'tis ex- actly. I guess, for one thing, she ain't got so much feelin'. But if you take her right, she's real kind. She's what I call ruther flirty. She's just as she is." With this fatalistic sentence, Mrs. Tuttle resumed her knitting. She seemed to have transferred the care of the matter to her elder daughter. It is rather difficult to deal with secretive people, particularly if ycu care for them. At supper that night Rowena watched her sister with uncontrollable interest. Mrs. Tuttle also watched her. The girl was very gay and talkative. She had grumbled at first, because they could not return to BEING SECRETIVE 22 1 Boston, but she seemed now reconciled to staying in the country. She asserted, however, that with Mrs. McGee her mother could get along all right. When she would say this, Mrs. Tuttle would turn with an almost frightened pleading towards Rowena, who would answer : "I shall stay here, mother." This change in the woman who had so bravely borne to be left was inex- pressibly touching to the elder daughter. It seemed to her as if she could not be tender enough nor strong enough in her care. She thanked Heaven that she was at home and not in Paris. She could even be grateful that she had not gone to California, where Miss Phillipps still remained, returning now and then to the Lister ranch. Bradford was yet faithful, also, to the ranch. Sarah Kimball's appetite was remarkably good. Passing her the " hot biscuits " for the third time, Rowena smiled, as she remarked : " One may be sure you are not in love." " Why ? Why ain't she in love ?" asked Nathan Henry, with his mouth full. " I'm sure I can't tell why she isn't." Rowena looked full at the face opposite her as she spoke thus. Sarah Kimball laughed. She looked happy. " I guess I'll be in love if I have a mind to," she answered, gayly. " If you have the heart to, you mean," rejoined her sister. The other laughed again. " That's so. But how bright you be — I mean you are, Roweny." 222 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD The two sisters were alone in the kitchen as they cleared the supper -table and washed the dishes. When the last plate was put away, Rowena came to her companion as she was smoothing out the red and black table-cloth, which had taken the place of the white one. She put down the envelope before her. " Mother picked this up from the floor ; she said you dropped it." The girl put her hand quickly on the paper. She flung up her head. " It is mine," she said, sharply. " Have you been spyin' round?" " I told you mother picked it up from the floor." " Oh, all right. But I guess other folks can do as they please, same's you've always done all your life." A BAD HALF-HOUR 223 XVI A BAD HALF-HOUR The young girl seemed instantly to assume a hostile attitude. She stood with her head upreared and gazed at her sister, who returned the look with eyes that plainly showed her perplexity. " Does it strike you that I have always done just as I pleased ?" Rowena put this question much more mildly than she felt. The inclination to say a few very severe things was growing momentarily greater. " Well," returned Sarah Kimball, in a high voice, " I should say it did. 'N' everybody knows it, too. Didn't you go to Paris and have a good time ? 'N' didn't you ketch a rich husband there ? ""N' ain't you actin' like Sancho to him now ? He must be a reg'lar angel to stay out there 'n' let you be here 'n' spend his money." This was carrying the war into the enemy's country. Rowena did not intend to discuss her own affairs. She felt that her sister was letting a very disagreeable light upon them. She could not believe she was see- ing them in their true aspect. Sarah Kimball paused. She was subject to dis- couraging backsliding in the matter of grammar and 224 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD articulation the moment she became in the least ex- cited. She was excited now. She held the envelope directed to Miss S. K. Tuttle tightly in a hot and closely-clinched fist. She believed herself about to be persecuted. She had extremely liberal ideas as to the rights and liberties of American girls in the matter of "beaus." These were sacred rights, which must not be meddled with. " It is not necessary to talk about me or my hus- band," remarked Rowena, very coldly. " Th2n you needn't come to me jes' 's if I was a thief 'n' a robber, 'cause you found this," unclasping her hand and showing the crumpled bit of paper. Rowena held her position in front of her sister. She gazed at the flushejl face and fierce eyes. So strangely is human nature made up, that at that mo- ment a ludicrous wonder came to her as to what Mr. Robert Soule must think of Sarah Kimball's letters. Rowena knew what they were in the way of construc- tion and orthography. The girl had a telling shrewd- ness in most affairs, but this did not show particularly in any epistolary way. " I don't know what you find to laugh at, I'm sure." Sarah Kimball spoke sulkily. " We are acting like two ridiculous children," said Rowena, now openly laughing. " Can't you confide in me .' You will worry mother. Don't you think I'm trustworthy ?" She approached yet nearer to her sister, whose face was undergoing rapid changes. The girl looked rather wistfully now at her companion. A BAD HALF-HOUR 225 " You 'n' mother needn't worry one grain," she said. Then she hesitated. " 'Tain't fair for you to look at me so !" she cried, putting one hand up to her face. Rowena smiled and turned away. But her smile did not go very deep into her heart. She knew she was not logical in her shrinking from the thought of Mr. Soule as a husband for her sister. She knew not of a single act of Mr. Soule's that should disqualify him, in the world's eyes, for marriage with the noblest woman in the land. Her objections were all feminine, intuitive, utterly incapable of being formulated with any show of reason. But, nevertheless, she shrank with her whole soul from the thought of such a union, and she would prevent it if it were a possible thing. It was of no avail that something in her whispered that she should not meddle in this. The strain of rigid Puritan resolution came prominently to the surface. Perhaps she was narrow at this juncture. She was, then, but living up to her birthright. And to be ab- solutely resolute one must be, at times, incapable of seeing more than one side to a question. Rowena also could be " set" upon occasion. There was a gleam of something like steel in the glance she now turned upon her sister. But Sarah Kimball did not see it. Her hand was still shading her eyes. " You see," said the girl, with some indication of a sob in her voice. " You see, he thought — that is, we thought, that mebby you wouldn't like it. He said he guessed you didn't approve of him ; though he had always admired you so much. Everybody admired you. 15 226 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD I don't wonder at that ' — with a decided sob — " but I do wish you'd let me alone. You made me come away from Boston jes' 'cause you took a notion to see how the shadows looked on the snow. 'N' then when we got here, mother bein' sick, 'n' — " Here came a pause in the voice, and Sarah Kimball broke into open weeping. She was in the midst of this display of emotion, and her sister was rather hopelessly gazing at her, when a form pass"ed the win- dow, and immediately Miss Hancock entered upon the scene. Sarah Kimball gave a furious hitch to her shoulders, and disappeared into the entry, from which the stairs went to her chamber. Marthy S. expressed the hope that she hadn't dis- turbed nobody. Shei said she hadn't no intentions of intruding, and she hoped there wa'n't nothin' serious the matter with that girl. She had a large tin pail in her hand, from which she now carefully lifted two glasses. At the top of each glass appeared a white, puffy substance. " I brought your mar a couple of floatin' islands," she said, with some pride, " Folks that can't take a grain of food often have floatin' islands set real well. How is your mar feelin' to-day ?" Rowena tried to bring her mind to the contempla- tion of the delicacies on the kitchen - table. She thanked Marthy S. She said her_ mother seemed " about the same." " I'm glad she ain't no worse. " I'm in a great hurry this mornin'." She hung the tin pail on her arm as she spoke. She walked to the door. She hes- A BAD HALF-HOUR 227 itated. Her little, sharp face had a peculiar look upon it. She came back close to Rowena. She spoke in a whisper ; and she blushed as she spoke. "I've ben thinkin', Roweny, 'bout what you said the other night." The young face was turned towards her with a vaguely questioning look, for Rowena was trying to detach her mind from her sister's affairs. " You know," said Marthy S., nervously fingering the handle of the pail on her arm. " 'Bout not marryin' the deacon less I loved him." " Oh yes, I remember," said the other, gently. "Per- haps I ought not to have meddled, even by saying that. But I felt so strongly to say it that — " " 'Twa'n't meddlin'— 'twa'n't meddlin'," hastily in- terrupted the other, a curious youthful look coming for an instant over her aspect. " I wanted to tell you that I've ben thinkin' of it. It wa'n't seed that fell on stony ground." Now she tripped towards the door. "I hadn't ought to have stopped here a minute. I do hope your mar '11 reUsh them floatin' islands." The dress-maker picked her way carefully through the slush in the yard out into the slush in the road. She was holding her skirts up with each hand, and one might see her congress cloth boots with the rub- bers over them. Rowena stood at the window and watched her. And as she watched it almost seemed as if she her- self had never left her home ; as if the years abroad were wiped out ; as if she had never painted a pict- 228 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD ure ; never seen Keats Bradford or his cousin Vanessa Phillipps. And in all the years to come she was to stay in this farm-house and look out upon those low hills with the crows sailing over them. Not until she died could she perhaps hope for a reincarnation when she might dwell somewhere else. As that word " reincarnation " came into her mind, she remembered Miss Phillipps and that lady's talk of " Karma," and the Mahatmas, and things of that ilk. With the memory came other memories so keen, so powerful, that they cut their way and swept their way with that sudden force which sometimes makes a mere human being like a feather in a whirlwind. Rowena stood leaning against the window-casing. She still had her face turned towards the highway, but her outward eyes saw nothing. She was pale. Her features were almost rigid. There was only one coherent thought in her mind, and that thought was in the form of a question : " Oh, why is life so strange ?" At last she tried to rouse herself. She left the kitchen and went into the porch. She put a shawl over her head and walked carefully on the boards that had been laid as a path over the melting snow to the barn. Her terrier, with rather a depressed manner, followed her. She flung open the barn door; she inhaled the odor of hay; she heard the horse whinny- ing for greeting. As she went along by the cow stalls the cow put her head forward and thrust out her tongue for the dry corn-blade extended to her. Buster, A BAD HALF-HOUR 229 the bull - terrier, rose from a pile of bedding and stretched himself. K.owena eagerly took in every detail of the place. The sudden and mysterious tension that had been upon her appeared as mysteriously to begin to give way. Almost she thought she heard and saw her father as she had heard and seen hira in those days when she had "tagged" after him while he did his chores in this bam. When she had been small enough he had brought her out on his shoulder. Could she not hear him now saying, " There sha'n't nobody plague my little girl ?" As these words came back to her with the very in- tonation in which they were spoken, Rowena sudden- ly began' to sob violently. She sat down on a bundle of straw and bent her face to her hands. She wept as she had not wept since she had been a child. Marmaduke climbed up to her shoulder. He whined. Not being able to reach her face, he licked her ear with the most eager solicitude, making a slight, sympathetic moan under his breath as he did so. Buster, as befitted a dog who belonged to a boy, did not yield to the emotion which governed Marma- duke. Buster sat on his haunches in front of this group and gazed seriously and respectfully. He was young, and he was not owned by any womankind. He was embarrassed. He was evidently extremely glad when the human portion of the group sobbed less continuously, and the canine part of it at last jumped down and began to wriggle around its mistress's feet. 23° MRS. KEATS BRADFORD It was a half-hour later that Rowena returned to the house. She found her mother asleep in her chair. Sarah Kimball was preparing to fry doughnuts in the kitchen. The kettle of fat was making a sputtering noise on the stove. The girl was peering into differ- ent spice boxes. She asked Rowena affably which she would rather have in sim-balls, cinnamon or nut- meg. Rowena felt that she did not care, but she promptly said " Cinnamon." Sarah Kimball had evidently utilized her sojourn up-stairs, for her hair was put into little strips of lead around her forehead, and the locks were pulled so tightly that it gave one a painful sensation to look at her. " I told Phil Barrett I'd go to the choir rehearsal with him to-night," she said, as if in explanation, when she saw her sister glance at her hair. "Don't be too kind to Philip, unless," began Row- ena, impulsively. Then she paused. " I guess you needn't say anything," was the quick rejoinder, with a sharp emphasis on the "you." Rowena's eyes flashed. At that moment it ap- peared to her that Sarah Kimball was becoming un- endurable. If the girl were the cause of more com- plications, what was to be done ? " Do you mean that I was ever too kind to Philip ?" The speaker's glance covered the girl in a way that made her cower somewhat. She did not know ex- actly what Rowena might do if she were roused. "I d'know's it makes any difference what I do mean^" was the sullen reply. A BAD HALF-HOUR 23 1 Rowena walked out of the room. Sarah Kimball slapped the spice-box viciously on the table. " It's jest the way," she muttered. " Some folks c'n do some things, 'n' if anybody else does um the old Harry's to pay." The next morning Rowena surprised her family by announcing that she was going to Boston. She might possibly be detained over night. Nathan Henry was induced to harness and take her to the station. The slush was now frozen, and the "goin' " was something terrible. The old wagon pounded and jounced and bumped along, and the people in it pounded and bumped with it. The first thing which Rowena did on reaching her rooms in Park Street was to summon a messenger- boy, by whom she despatched a note addressed to Mr. Robert Soule at the Vendome. Having done this, she sat down and thought of all the reasons why she should not have done it. And she felt that there were a great many of these reasons. For the moment there seemed nothing in favor of this action. She tried to comfort herself by the reflection that it must be right since it was so intensely disagreeable. She had dwelt so much on Sarah Kimball's affairs of late that she almost felt a delirous tendency in her mind. She was on the verge of distrusting her own judgment. It was not perhaps so much on her sister's account as for her mother's sake. She was sure her mother's feeble vitality could not endure any shock. But her mother was pleased with Mr. Soule ; Mrs. Tuttle would not be able to imagine that that gentleman might be 232 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD capable of many strange actions in the pursuit of amusement. Rowena moved restlessly about her rooms. There were many chances that Mr. Soule had left Boston. But she had instructed the boy to return immediately if the gentleman were not at the hotel. She wished she had brought Marmaduke; his presence, though not physically large, was very positive and comforting. She blushed painfully as she recalled the fact that Mr. Soule was almost a Frenchman, and that he might misinterpret. But that she must endure. She looked at her watch and computed the time be- tween now and the departure of the train for Middle Village. The voice of the servant at the door said : " Mr. Soule." Rowena rose. Ungracious as it might seem, she thought she would remain standing that she might force him to stand also. He came forward towards her. There was nothing of his usual air about him. There was a kind of eagerness in his eyes. He bowed silently, and then stood before her. Rowena stiffened herself visibly. She did not raise her glance to his eyes, but kept it fixed on his mouth. " Of course you are greatly surprised," she said. "But always ready to obey you," he responded, in a superficial tone. She. could not resist making an impatient gesture. " I am anxious about my sister." " Yes ?" interrogatively. A BAD HALF-HOUR 233 " Unfortunately she does not confide in me. She is very reticent. Any misfortune — I mean any shock — occurring now might be fatal to our mother, who is ill." " I am sorry to learn of your mother's illness." Rowena feared that she might yield to the furious inclinations that were coming hotly to her brain. Of course she had been utterly wrong in making this at- tempt. But she could not retreat. Her companion stood there looking intently at her, as if he intended to make the most of this opportunity that had been given him. " Mr. Soule," said Rowena, in a low voice, " I could learn nothing from my sister. I come to you. I am deeply pained that you should become intimately acquainted with her without the knowledge of her friends. You are much older ; you know the world, and she does not. She might think of your atten- tions in a much different way from the way you thought of them. She has no father, no one who could rightfully speak to you. It was only by acci- dent that we learned of this correspondence with you. I suppose she is flattered. As for your feelings, I know nothing about them." Rowena now lifted her eyes higher than the man's mouth. But her eyelids sank again instantly. It was a very bad half-hour for her. There was a momentary silence after she had spoken thus. This was a time to reveal whether or not this per- son was a gentleman, or only a very well veneered imitation of one. 234 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " As for my feelings," he said at last, " you can say you know nothing about them ? Women can make very strange remarks upon occasion." Was he going to take advantage of the fact that she had sent for him ? She did not visibly shrink. "I referred to your attitude towards my sister," she said. " Oh, I know perfectly well to what you referred. Would you object to me as a husband to your sister ?" " Strongly." " Your objections to me seem to cover a very wide ground, Mrs. Bradford." " They do. I am sorry I ever knew you." " You have the merit of frankness." There was bitter suffering in the man's voice. He seized a chair and leaned on it. As for Rowena, there was no chair upon which she could lean, and she stood upright. She tried to think of nothing but Sarah Kimball. She told herself that she ought to be willing to suffer much humiliation if she might save the girl from a life with this man. She did not suspect that she might be hard towards the man himself. There are mo- ments when the most pitiful woman is almost flinty. For the first time in her life Rowena was entirely in- different to any suffering she might cause. Soule continued looking at her intently. It almost seemed as if he believed this to be the last time his eyes could ever rest upon her. " Perhaps you enjoy the exercise of this frankness towards me," he remarked. A BAD HALF-HOUR 235 " At this moment I am not enjoying anything," she returned. She went on impetuously, " You know now why I sent for you." " To tell me that you did not wish me to be inter- ested in your sister. Certainly, I understand that. Have you any other commands to lay upon me ? Do you wish to interdict me from being interested in any woman? Oh, pardon me, Mrs. Bradford! You do not know what you are making me suffer." The last words were almost a cry. Rowena began to understand fully that her attempt was a failure. The sincerity and the single-heartedness of the effort made the failure seem more piteous and humiliating. She now even feared that it might be possible that Mr. Soule would credit her with motives which had not influenced her. Perhaps she did not understand the world ; perhaps she could have no idea of the nature of a man like Robert Soule. All these thoughts and doubts were rioting in her mind as she stood there before the guest she had sum- moned. She wished that she had some one to help her. Mr. Soule took his hands from the chair he had been gripping. He advanced a step towards his com- panion, who did not retreat, but who remained there, slender, erect, and alone. " I know it is unfair. I know I am taking an ad- vantage," he said; "but will you kindly remember that i was in desperate earnest the other night when I made you so angry? Will you tell yourself this: ' He never expected to see me again, and suddenly he has the opportunity ?' " 236 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Mr. Soule paused. He smiled. "You New-Eng- land women are perfect devils for cruelty. Here you have stuck a pin through me and fastened me on the wall. Now you watch me writhe. Well, you shall see me writhe." Another pause. Rowena had no thought of trying to speak. But she had a thought of walking out of the room. She feared, however, that Mr. Soule might be capable of preventing her escape. " You did not mean to impale me," he now went on. " I don't misjudge you. But you have done it all the same. What made you come to the hospital ? If you had not been just what you are, you would have known I loved you over in Paris. Stop. Don't speak. Then chance made me break my bones, and brought you to visit me while they mended. I'm glad to be able to use rough words to you — to spit out something of all this which has been choking me. You didn't know men were like this ? Well, some of them are. I am. I've loved many times, of course. ' For several virtues,' and so on. I expect to get over this. But I foresee an amount of suffering in the process. And I always fight shy of all the suffering possible. That's all we are here for — to fight off suffering. Do you enjoy my writhings, Mrs. Bradford ? ' " When I go back to my room at the hotel I shall put a blessed needle under the skin of my arm, and then for a time I shall know something of a lovely place. ■>■■" " A man who has a good deal to contend with, if A BAD HALF-HOUR 237 he is still cursed with a conscience, must have some respite. Morphine is an angel to him then. Good- bye, Mrs. Bradford. You have no idea how clearly your face rises before me when the morphine begins to work. Not your face as it is now, but as it was sometimes in Paris; as it was sometimes in the hospital." He picked up his hat from the table where he had put it. His hand trembled as he did so. His sallow, dark face was pale. He turned once more to Row- ena. 238 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD XVII CONCERNING SARAH KIMBALL " You perceive," he said, " I am weak enough to let you see how weak. Ascribe it all to my injuries ; to the morphine habit; to anything you please. I know you want me to go." He looked down irresolutely at his hat. "I'm going presently. And it's not likely you'll be troubled with me again. I'm thinking of that. I shall not see you again. When you are sure you won't be obliged to meet me, you will begin to be sorry for me. If you ever think of me, you won't have such an expres- sion on your face as you have now." Mr. Soule paused in his speech. There was almost an unnerved air about him, as if he could hardly be held entirely responsible. Rowena listened to him with the thought tyrannous in her mind that she had not succeeded, that she must not let him go thus. " But my sister," she said, and then stopped, ut- terly unable to go on before the face turned towards her. She wanted to wring her hands, but she did not. " Oh, your sister ?" he repeated, evidently trying to bring his mind to that subject. " Really, Mrs. Brad- ford, I don't quite understand you. Would you mind CONCERNING SARAH KIMBALL 239 explaining ? It was you who presented me to Miss Tuttle. She is very handsome. Of course I admired her. I offered her some little aljientions. I make you the confession that I wanted to stand well with her. I might call here oftener, perhaps ; if she were favorably impressed, I might see you more frequently. But all such little plans have been of no avail. Really she cannot have — have honored me by thinking seri- ously of — well, Mrs. Bradford, I'm at a loss how to put the matter." Soule ceased speaking. It had plainly been such an effort to him to detach his thoughts from another subject, and bring them to the suject of Sarah Kim- ball, that Rowena blushed deeply and distressingly at the mistake she had made. She had, then, given herself all this suffering needlessly. She was greatly puzzled. It did not occur to her to doubt Mr. Soule. She believed him. He went on. " You have been misled by something, Mrs. Brad- ford," he said. He seemed about to say more. His lips opened, but they closed without his having spoken. He partially turned towards the door. Then he came back. " I am going now," he said. Rowena bent her head. " I have made a great mistake," she said, in a low voice. He stood looking at her a moment. Again he ap- peared about to speak, and again he did not. This time when he turned away he left the room. 240 MRS. KKATS BRADFORD Rowena only waited for him to have left the build- ing. Then she hurriedly put on her cloak and bonnet, her hands trembling as she did so, and having to try more than once before they performed their office. She locked the apartment. She walked quickly down to Washington Street, and then to Summer Street. She jostled somewhat blindly against people. One of these people was a woman dressed with shabby neatness. She looked in Rowena's face, and her own countenance changed to a pleased recognition. She put out her hand, but Rowena stared blankly at her. The woman's hand dropped, and her look clouded. She went on, saying to herself : " She feels too fine to speak to me now. I would never have believed that of her — never !" It was Mrs. Jarvis, in whose house Rowena had "room- kept " on Hudson Street. The next moment some one touched her shoulder, and a cordial voice said hurriedly, " Will you shake hands with me now, Mrs. Jarvis ? I was not thinking. I did not know you at first." Mrs. Jarvis's eyes brightened. She grasped the younger woman's hand eagerly. "I'm real glad to see you," she exclaimed. "I hope you're prosperin'. I guess you be. But you looked so troubled jest now." "Yes. I was annoyed. And you, Mrs. Jarvis ? Do you still have to work so hard ?" "Not quite I've left Hudson Street. I'm keepin' house for a man out in Roxbury. I wish you'd come to see me some time. We've been havin' some very interestin' sea-antses — " CONCERNING SARAH KIMBALL 24I As she paused, Rowena said she must hurry now to catch her train, and the two parted without the ad- dress of the man in Roxbury having been given. " I wish," thought Mrs. Jarvis as she walked slowly along, " I wish I'd asked her if her mediumistic ten- dencies had been developed any. She used to be so set against bein' developed." With every moment that passed Rowena's anger against her sister grew stronger and stronger. She was earlier at the station than she thought, and she sat there among the people, not seeing any one, think- ing confusedly and indignantly. Her heart was as hot as ever when at last she reached Middle Village, and was obliged to allow Mr. Jenks to go to his house and " tackle up " into his covered wagon and take her home. She found her mother sitting by the stove in the parlor, which was now her room and her daughter's. She was eagerly waiting Rowena's return, and worry- ing lest something should keep her. Old Mrs. McGee was in the kitchen, but Sarah Kimball was not visi- ble. She had gone to the post-office. Noth with- standing the condition of the "goin"' the girl had walked. Her mother was worrying about that fact also. Mrs. Tuttle almost wept with relief when Rowena came into the room. " There don't nothing go right when you're gone," she said, tremulously, holding out her hand. " Nathan Henry come awful near spraining his ankle when he was doin' the chores ; 'n' I've have had worse coughin' spells 'n' I've had for days." 16 242 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD She leaned back and looked up at her daughter. " What's ben plaguein' you ?" she asked. Rowena was struck anew with the change in her mother. From the strong, self-reliant woman she had become clinging and pettish. She answered lightly. She did not explain what had vexed her. But she said she should think Sarah Kimball would find it difficult walking home in the dark from the post-office, with the roads full of melt- ing snow. " So I told her," whiningly responded Mrs. Tuttle. " I told her 'twas tempting Providence. But she would start. You see, the rim's broke on one of the wagon-wheels, or she could have rode. Nathan Henry had ought to have told her 'bout that rim." Here the speaker fell to coughing. After the fit was over she lay back exhausted. But she managed to whisper that Roweny 'd better go and get some supper. Mrs. McGee was out there. Sarah Kimball had gone for that person, and had arranged that she should stay all night. When this fact was made known to Rowena she was unreasonably startled — Mrs. McGee never remained over night. Though Rowena thought she controlled all manifestation of her surprise, her mother, who had a habit of watch- ing her child's face, exclaimed feebly : "I know it's odd enough her gittin' Mrs. McGee to stay. I told her there wa'n't no need of it. Even if you didn't come home till to-morror, she 'n' I could manage. But you can't do nothing with Sarah Kim- ball when she gits her head up. She said if you did CONCERNING SARAH KIMBALL 243 come you'd be tired, 'n' she should be tired, 'n' we should be glad there was somebody to git supper. So of course she had her own way. She was tearin' mad when she found the wheel was broke. It was tryin' of Nathan not to tell of it." Mrs. Tuttle now began to cough again. Rowena looked at her with a feeling of heart-break- ing sympathy and longing which thrust everything else out of her mind for the moment. She brought the soothing mixture the doctor had ordered. She sat down by her mother and held her hand — that hand which had once been so effective and strong, and which was now fast growing thin and white and weak. After a few moments her mother smiled cheerfully, and said in a whisper that she " was a good deal bet- ter now." The evening went on. Sarah Kimball could hardly be expected before eight, or half after that hour. At eight the boys went to bed, leaving Mrs. McGee fast asleep in her chair by the kitchen stove. A little later Mrs. Tuttle said she guessed she had " set up long enough." At nine Rowena and Marmaduke were the only in- habitants of the Tuttle house who were awake. Of these two Rowena was painfully alert. She had gone into the kitchen. She found herself entirely unable to sit in her chair. She pulled up the curtains. She moved continually about the room. She looked from the windows along the bleak highway which led in the direction of the post-office. The road was growing rapidly more distinguishable in the light of a late 244 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD moon, which had now risen and was sailing in and out among drifting spring clouds. When the clock had ticked relentlessly on to ten, Rowena went to the bed whereon Mrs. McGee was soundly reposing. It required some time and con- siderable muscular strength to rouse her, and when roused her first tendency was to cry " Fire " at the top of her voice. She explained this tendency immedi- ately by reverting to the time when, as she expressed it, her house had been burned over her head. She betrayed such a strong and excited inclination to go on and give a minute history of the origin, prog- ress, and final extinction of this fire that it was only with the greatest difficulty that Rowena could per- suade her to listen to what she herself had to say. " Sarah Kimball hasn't come home. I'm afraid something has happened to her. I'm going to ride the horse over to the post-office. Mother's asleep and I don't want to alarm her. Will you get up and sit in the kitchen until I come back ? If mother speaks you will hear her. And don't say anything to frighten her. Perhaps Sarah Kimball has stopped at Ruth Cox's. But it is very thoughtless of her." Mrs. McGee rose from her bed. '■ There's one thing you may be sure of," she said, with great emphksis. " What is that ?" asked Rowena, hopefully. " You may be sure that girl has done jest exactly what she has a mind to," was the response. Rowena turned away. She lighted the lantern and went to the barn. Buster greeted her with touching CONCERNING SARAH KIMBALL 245 effusion, rising from his hay couch to do so. It seemed like the middle of the night, and very desolate. She found the worm-eaten side-saddle on which she used to ride this very horse which now was looking curi- ously at her. The saddle had been second-hand when her father had secured it for her at the price of a cer- tain number of bushels of carrots. Now the stirrup was gone. She did not know that Nathan had wanted the stirrup-strap for purposes of his own. She swung the cumbrous saddle onto the horse and fastened it securely. She put the harness bridle, with its blinders, on the animal's head. Then she hitched him and returned to the house, hoping that Sarah Kimball had now arrived. But no. There was only the terrier, greatly surprised at the proceedings, and Mrs. McGee, who was preparing to brew a strong cup of tea to keep her awake. Now that she was up, this woman began rather to enjoy the situation, not being vitally interested in the welfare of the girl. She was already anticipating the excitement of the tale. She would tell what she had thought when Rowena roused her, how Rowena had looked, how she herself had probably looked, before she came to the most interest- ing part. When Rowena had put on jacket and hat and gone to the barn, Mrs. MoGee turned back into the kitchen. It was then that she wondered how a few drops of Mrs. Tuttle's whiskey would taste in the tea. Marma- duke, who was left behind, saw her put in the whiskey, but she knew very well that he would never tell. Rowena rode out of the yard and into the road. It 246 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD was not freezing cold. With every step the horse sank fetlock -deep into what was graphically called here " sposh." She dared only to go at a foot's pace. At intervals the moon rode in a space of blue sky and poured its pallid light over the soaked fields and great patches of snow and the stretch of solitary and dismal highway. At such intervals the pine-trees standing in the fields had a black, repelling, and mon- ster-like aspect. There were only two houses on the way until one came to the half-dozen dwellings where the post-office was situated. It was along part of this road that Rowena had walked with Keats before her marriage. She recalled now every minutest incident of that time. Though she resolved almost fiercely not to recall that hour, the memory of it dominated her like a tyrant against whom rebellion was useless. The horse walked mechanically on, his head droop- ing, the melting snow spattering his chest and sending sprays of icy water into his rider's face. It was a long time before the horse and the woman reached the village. There was not a light to be seen in one of the houses. There was not a sound to be heard save the rippling of small rills of water in the fields and in the road. Rowena dismounted at the post-office, which was in the house where the postmaster lived. She kept her hand on the bridle, and the old horse followed her, perforce, to the door, where she knocked vigor- ously. Presumably the inhabitants were in " that first sweet CONCERNING SARAH KIMBALL 247 sleep of night " of which Shelley writes, for it required a great deal of noise to rouse them. At last the man did throw up a window and crossly ask what was the matter. To Rowena's question he answered, after a pause for recollection, that the young Tuttle girl hadn't been tliere at all that day. Was he positive? Yes, he was. Was he sure he knew her.' Well, he guessed he did ; had known her ever sence she was born. She'd had a lot of letters lately, but she hadn't been there that day. Had anything hap- pened ? Rowena replied quite calmly that she hoped not, but they had been worried. Probably, however, the girl had gone to a friend's. " Guess you'll find her at the Coxes '," was the re- sponse. And the window slammed down. The woman and the horse did not linger in this hos- pitable yard. The animal was led to a fence, and his companion succeeded in clambering up on his back. Then they turned slowly and desolately to retrace the way. Rowena's mind was divided between violent anger against her sister and keenest anxiety concern- ing her. She recalled the dreadful stories in news- papers of things which happened in remote settle- ments. She found it almost impossible to shake off such thoughts. The Cox family lived up a lane which led from the main road about half-way between the post-office and the Tuttle home. For some reason snow has a disin- clination to melt in lanes, and this path was banked solidly. It ran along at the north of a row of pines. 248 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD The snow had softened, but it was deep. The old horse slowly put his foot down and slowly pulled it up through the heavy mass. The southerly wind sobbed up there in the tops of the pines. The moon had now vanquished the clouds, and was riding in the clear blue heavens. The Cox homestead was low and unpainted. It was dark and repellant. It was Ruth Cox herself who was the first to hear the summons on the front door. She hurriedly thrust her feet into slippers and wrapped herself in a blanket. She had thoughts of taking the hatchet from the shed where she chopped the "trash." But she left the hatchet. " My !" she cried, " it's Sarah Kimball's sister ! What has happened.' Have you lost your way? Walk right in." " No, I haven't lost my way, and I won't walk in," replied Rowena. And then she put her question about Sarah Kimball. Ruth threw up her hands and her blanket fell back, revealing a very slim figure in a very long night-gown. " Gracious !" exclaimed Ruth Cox, " I ain't seen her sence last week. But she's had something on her mind. I told mother this morning that I did believe that Sarah Kimball had something on her mind. Not that she was worried. She's ben in first-rate spirits. I do hope she ain't got into the woods, anyway." Rowena did not know why her sister should be suspected of getting into the woods. She learned that the girl had never said anything to her friend Ruth that gave any clew to the present mystery. CONCERNING SARAH KIMBALL 249 So Rowena turned again to mount her horse. But she could not see any fence within a convenient dis- tance. Unfortunately, she was not one of those hero- ines who can spring unaided from the ground to the top of a tall horse. Ruth, seeing what was wanted, held her blanket to- ■ gether with one hand while she swung out a kitchen chair with the other. It was now that her mother was heard calling her daughter and asking if 'twas robbers. Rowena rode away, with Mrs. Cox's screaming questions coming out into the still night. She had plenty of time to think as she went home- ward. It must be after midnight. She hoped her mother had not awakened. She began to feel that she must consult some man. She thought first of Philip Barrett ; but he lived so far away, and her means of locomotion were so very try- ing. There was James Townshend ; he had a tolerably fast horse. He could get somewhere, and he was not at a great distance. Rowena made her steed go by its home and plod on towards Mr. Townshend's. With every step she dreaded more and more the flood of talk and wonderment which Georgie would let loose from her lips. It happened that Georgie was up and in the kitchen. The baby Jim had been hoarse in the evening. He had grown hoarser, and his mother was now making an onion poultice for young Jim's chest. Giving one glance at her old friend's face, Georgie 250 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD pulled her in. " You look just horrid, Roweny," she exclaimed. " I hope your mar ain't worse." Before she could speak, Rowena bethought herself that she must hitch the horse or it might walk home. When she came back into the warm room and saw Georgie's sympathetic face, she felt a sudden and almost overpowering inclination to weep furiously. She sat down and looked forlornly at her com- panion. "Don't speak yet," she said, brokenly. "Wait a minute." Georgie put a great restraint upon herself, and went on with her poultice. " It isn't mother," began Rowena, presently ; " it's Sarah Kimball." " Pneumonia V quickly asked Georgie. She was told what it was. " Merciful sakes !" cried Georgie, the little bag of onions falling from her hands back into the tin pan ; " ain't she left no note nor nothing ?" " I couldn't find anything. I looked everywhere before I started." " Has she got a beau ?" " I don't know whether she has or not." " I didn't know but she might have one that her folks didn't approve of, you know, and so had 'loped. But it don't seem like that, does it ?" Rowena shook her head. She did not know what it did seem like. She was very wretched. She was wishing vehemently that she had never invited her sister to Boston. CONCERNING SARAH KIMBALL 251 Georgie brought her a glass of currant wine, which she eagerly swallowed. " I guess I better call Jim," said Georgie. " You know one needs a man at such times. But I do hope Sarah Kimball ain't got into the woods." This second reference to the woods had a dreadful effect upon Rowena. She cried out impatiently that the girl was not a child, to do such a thing as that. But Georgie shook her head, and remarked that 'most always folks got into the woods. She went into the bedroom, and after some time Jim Townshend emerged therefrom in his shirt-sleeves and with his hair much dishevelled. He tried to look very wide awake. His wife said she would " jest put that poultice on the baby 'n' be right back." Jim shook hands with Rowena somewhat as if he were drunk but was going to conceal the fact. Then he went to the sink, and dashed some cold water onto his face. This treatment had an excellent effect. By the time his countenance had been scrubbed with the roller towel he was quite ready for action. By this time, also, his wife had returned to the room. " Jim thinks jest's I do," said Georgie. " The first thing he said was he was 'fraid she'd got into the woods. You know they always find um in the woods in the papers. They git confused 'n' they wander round." "Yes," said Mr. Townshend, "that's about it, you see. I thought right away of Noah's Island ; it's the woodsiest place there is about. I sh'll git some men together right away. It's goin' to be moony now till 252 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD daylight. Don't you worry more'n you can't help, Miss Bradford. We shall find her. We sh'U scour Noah's Island. I'll go out 'n' harness." Mr. Townshend hurried into his great rubber boots and his coats. Rowena looked at him as he did so. His wife lighted the lantern, talking all the time. As he was turning to go out Rowena asked suddenly if she might take one of his wagons and her horse and drive over to the nearest telegraph station. She said she would send a message to a friend in Boston. She would leave it to go the first moment the office was opened. But Mr. Townshend said she should have his own brown mare, and that her horse should be put in the stable. His mare could go eight miles an hour well enough, even through this sposh. Thankfully Rowena accepted the offer. Georgie insisted upon putting a hot brick to her feet. So Rowena started again. But first she drove the half mile to her own home, hoping against hope that her sister might have returned. NOT IN THE WOODS 253 XVIII NOT IN THE WOODS There was the light shining dimly behind the cur- tains of the kitchen when Rowena drove into the yard with Mr. Townshend's horse and buggy. She scanned those windows as if she might tell by them if her sister were there. She heard her dog begin to bark a welcome. The noise would rouse her mother if she were not already roused. She hastened in. Mrs. McGee rose from her rocker by the fire and showed decided tendencies towards an embrace of welcome. Rowena warded her off with indignation. She smelled hot whiskey in the room. Marmaduke, as has been hinted, though he knew how many times a few drops of the liquor had been put in a cup of tea until the tea was more whiskey than it was tea, could not tell what he knew. "Has she come home?" asked Rowena, hurriedly. " Oh no," was the answer, " but she'll be comin' presently." " Has mother wanted anything ?" " She called once. I went to her and she asked where you were." " And what did you tell her ?" 254 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD "That you jest felt like a little horseback ride. Wasn't that right ?" Rowena groaned. She heard her mother's "hand- bell now. " You wasn't wanting me to tell her Sarah Kimball was lost, was you ?" indignantly inquired Mrs. McGee. But the other made no reply. She walked into the parlor. Mrs. Tuttle had raised herself on her elbow, and was gazing with strained eyes at the door through which her daughter entered. " What does all this mean, Rowena ?" she asked, tremulously. " And Mrs. McGee's been at my whis- key. She jest scented the room when she come in." Rowena immediately took up the subject of Mrs. McGee, and dwelt upon it. Her mother tried to lis- ten, but at last she broke in sharply : " But what does it all mean ? Where've you ben?" There was no way but to answer the question. The woman sank back on her pillow. Her wild, imploring gaze was fixed on Rowena until the latter felt as if she could not bear it. She knelt down by the bed and flung an arm over the form lying there. " Oh, mother !" she whispered, " don't, don't look so!" " But where do you think she is ?" was the shrill question. " I don't know. I can't guess. Mr. Townshend and all the rest mentioned the woods — he spoke of Noah's Island." Rowena was almost beside herself in her perplexity. She put her face down beside her moth- er's on the pillow. NOT IN THE WOODS 255 " Noah's Island !" cried Mrs. Tuttle, with the ut- most contempt. " Roweny, them letters ! Why don't you tell me who she got acquainted with in Boston ?" " I have told you all I knew," was the reply. " Them letters !" repeated Mrs. Tuttle. Then she began to cough, and could not speak again for some time. When the paroxysm was over she looked up pathetically into the eyes looking down at her. She tried to smile. " Whatever happens, Roweny," she said, " I sha'n't blame you none." At this the daughter's face quivered. It was all she could do to keep from breaking down utterly. " Sometimes I think I was too much taken up with my work," she said, with an effort. '' I sha'n't blame you none," repeated Mrs. Tuttle. " Now I'll try to be patient. You go 'n' telegraph, 'n' I wish you'd put that whiskey-bottle where that wom- an can't find it. 'N' let the little dog come in here. He's kind of company. I love to know he's at the foot of the bed. It does me a sight of good. And, Roweny, don't you go to blamin' yourself. I know you, 'n' I know Sarah Kimball." ' It was plain that Mrs. Tuttle's old self was govern- ing her now for the time. She tried not to show how she suffered in her anxiety. When she was left alone she turned her head restlessly on her pillow, mutter- ing; " Them letters !" If she only had the strength, she thought she would go and examine Sarah Kimball's room, hoping to learn where the letters had come from. 256 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Meanwhile Rowena started out again. She knew that an express train stopped at Merrill, which was the station beyond Middle Village. It stopped be- tween four and five, and she could telegraph from there. She would not have much more than time. She began to compose her message to Mrs. Sears. She could think of no one else to whom she could apply in the absence of Miss Phillipps. She felt that she could not leave her mother again immediately, or she would have gone to Boston herself. But what should she do there more than Mrs. Sears could do for her ? After all, the message resolved itself into this one request : " Can you learn if Mr. Robert Soule is in town, at the Vendome, or elsewhere, and if he is married? Will explain." When Mrs. Appleton - Sears received this message in her room, long before she was ready to go down to breakfast, she had a feeling as if Mrs. Keats Brad- ford must have become suddenly insane, and was positive that Mrs. Bradford could not explain, though she said she would do so. But she did not wait for her breakfast. She ordered her carriage, to the utmost disgust of the coachman, and having swallowed a cup of coffee she went upon her errand, driving straight to the Vendome. It was only within the week that Mr. Soule had been pre- sented to her at a friend's reception. She was pleased with him, as most women were. She meant to apply at the fountain-head now. As an elderly NOT IN THE WOODS 257 lady, and as Caroline Appleton-Sears, she could do anything. She was shown into one of the parlors. She asked if Mr. Soule were still there. Yes. Was he — was he alone ? Certainly. He had not left his room yet. It was not yet nine o'clock. He rarely came down before ten, or later. Had she any message ? Mrs. Sears wrote on her card that she hoped Mr. Soule would pardon her for disturbing him, but she must see him for five minutes. The servant departed. The lady sat down to wait. She told herself that she felt like a detective, and that she really would like to know what Mrs. Bradford had meant. She had heard of " bogus telegrams " — hor- rible phrase ! Perhaps this was one of them, and she was acting upon it. Still, she felt herself growing more and more interested. And it was a distinct satisfaction to do a favor for Mrs. Bradford. After a while she began to become Tather indig- nant that she should be kept waiting. The gentleman could at least send down word. In a moment more, however, the servant entered. It was her own card that was on the salver he held. The man explained that he had made a mistake. Mr. Soule was not there. He had given up his room the night before. A carriage had taken him and his trunks to the Park Square station. He was going to New York by the Fall River boat. " And that is all that is known here ?" " That is all, madam." Mrs. Sears felt that it, would be ridiculous to ask 17 258 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD this man if Mr. Soule were married. She was not making a very good detective. She re-entered her carriage, and on the way home she sent a telegram to Mrs. Keats Bradford, telling of her success. This envelope came eventually into the hands of Mr. Jenks, arriving sealed by rail from Mer- rill. He had never felt more deeply defrauded be- cause the envelope was closed. It was now known through the neighborhood that Sarah Kimball had disappeared. And this message might refer to the disappearance. He knew very well that he should gain no knowledge from Mrs. Bradford. It was in the afternoon of the day following Sarah Kimball's departure. The theory that she had "got into the woods" was generally accepted, save by the girl's mother and sister. This theory appeared to the neigh- bors to be strengthened by the fact that she had taken none of her belongings, apparently. She had gone off as if she were only going to the post-office. She had left a pile of letters, but they were from some of her country girl friends, and were addressed to her at Park Street, Boston. Mr. Townshend and all the men for miles around, including Philip Barrett, were indefatigable in their search of Noah's Island. But nothing whatever came of their search. That one day seemed a week long to Rowena and her mother. Mrs. Tuttle was so prostrated that she could not leave her bed, and Rowena could not leave her alone ; and there seemed to be nothing for the younger woman to do but to wait. NOT IN THE WOODS 259 A hundred times during the slow-moving hours Mrs. Tuttle would turn her weary, feverish face towards her companion and ask, " Ain't there no message yet ?" She had made her daughter promise that she would tell her exactly what was in the telegram when it did come. Considering the sposh, and several matters of his own private business, Mr. Jenks thought he did very well to deliver Mrs. Sears's word before dark. Standing by her mother's bed, having locked the door to insure the absence of Mrs. McGee, Rowena tore open the envelope. Her eyes darted over the words before her tongue could possibly frame them. Her face grew a deep crimson. She read aloud, " Mr. Soule left Vendome last night for New York, via Fall River. Could not learn if he were married. " C. A. Sears." " What ? What ?" cried Mrs. Tuttle. Rowena felt choking. True, she knew nothing. But she had no doubt. In answer to her mother's cry, she read the words again. This time Mrs. Tuttle's face looked less ago- nized. "If it's Mr. Soule" — she breathed a long breath. Then she said, " I guess it's all right, ain't it ? I Uked Mr. Soule real well. So you think she went off to marry Mr. Soule I What made her so secret about it ? Tell me what you think? Can't you speak?" with intense interest. 26o MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " I think she is with him," answered Rowena, in her lowest voice. "Then it's all right, ain't it? But they needn't have been so secret, I say ?" Rowena stood silent with the sheet of paper in her hand. How she had been deceived ! But what more could she have done that she had not done ? Unless she had not sufficiently entertained her sister ? She grew hot and then cold at the memory of words Mr. Soule had spoken to her. And she had pitied him ! Her heart had really ached for him. Well, she had still many things to learn of life and the world and its ways. Perhaps another time she would not feel pity so quickly. Her sister's image was confused in her mind. It was blurred as if forever. She could not account for the girl's choosing to behave thus. But Mr. Soule had bewitched her; the practical, unimaginative girl must be under a spell. One terrible doubt there was still in her mind — the doubt whether a man like Mr. Soule would care to marry a girl like Sarah Kimball. This doubt she kept to herself. She saw that not a shadow of such a thought had come to her mother. She opened her mouth and spoke words which she did not herself believe. " Perhaps," she said, " Sarah Kimball thought an elopement would be romantic." " But she never was romantic in her life," promptly responded Mrs. Tuttle. " Don't you think I know Sarah Kimball?" NOT IN THE WOODS 261 After the first shock of reading the telegram was over, Rowena said, with serious emphasis . that after all, nothing was clear yet. It would be better not to hint at their own suspicions, since they were only sus- picions. It was true many things led her to suspect that her sister had joined Mr. Soule. But because that gentleman had left Boston the night before was not the least proof that any one was with him. They would wait until to-morrow ; and if they heard nothing, she would ask Mrs. Sears to set a detective to work. It could easily enough be learned where Mr. Soule had gone and with whom. " And if Sarah Kimball," went on Rowena, angrily, "had a heart of flesh she would write to her mother. Girls were not taken off and shut up in stone towers in these days." Then Mrs. Tuttle tried to defend her absent daugh- ter, and in her eagerness to do so she began to cough. Notwithstanding the condition of the roads, a great many neighbors called to inquire if anything had been heard. It was clearly the most interesting occasion that had ever occurred in the vicinity. Rowena left Mrs. McGee to converse with these people, which she did with an enjoyment and gusto impossible to de- scribe. She always began with how Rowena herself had looked when she had come back the evening before. With some she even went so far back as to give a de- scription of the washing she had done on the morning of the previous day. And almost everybody still believed Sarah Kimball to be in the woods somewhere. She had either been lured there or carried there. Some of the women boldly stated that if they were men they 262. MRS. KEATS BRADFORD knew they could find her. Mrs. Barrett was the orig- inator of the cheerful idea that a lion or tiger had escaped from some menagerie, and had carried Sarah Kimball off. She believed that it was of no use what- ever to spend any time in looking. The morning of the second day Nathan Henry, who had substituted another wheel for the one which was broken, though it was not a " match," drove Rowena to the post-office for the third time. On her second visit she had tried to learn to whom her sister had been writing of late. It was strange that nothing par- ticular was remembered save that the man asserted that he " could jest about take his oath that it wa'n't to no man." There was something in the postmaster's face that made Rowena suspect that her sister might have found means to secure his silence. But now as she came out of the office she held a letter in her hand. She sprang eagerly into the wagon, where her brother waited her. " Is it from her ?" he asked, quickly. She nodded. Her fingers trembled ; but she tore open the envelope which was addressed to her, and which bore the New York postmark. Nathan Henry turned the horse round so that the people on the steps should not see them. He slapped the lines. " I snum !" he cried, indignantly. " I hope she's made fuss 'nough this time !" Rowena did not hear him. There was a closely written sheet. Her eye leaped to the name signed at NOT IN THE WOODS 263. the bottom. She uttered a sharp exclamation, and crushed the paper in her hand. " I won't read any more till I get home to mother," she said. " Do drive as fast as you can, Nate." " I s'pose she's all right ?" he asked. " I suppose so." The boy jerked the horse's head. " Jes' like er girl !" he said. Then he was silent. He felt that he could wait very well for particulars. He had been one of those who had adopted the idea of the lion or tiger being responsible for the disappear- ance of his sister. He wanted her found all right but if she had gone off herself, he lost his interest some- what in her recovery. He told himself that if he had set out to run away from home, he shouldn't do it in any such kind of a way as that. Rowena hurried into her mother's room. Mrs. Tuttle was now dressed and sitting up. She clasped her hands. " You've heard ?" in a whisper. Rowena sat down by her. She read aloud the following letter, which I give without any corrections : " My dear mother and sister, — I supose you have been worrying an awful lott about me. I shouldn't have done so, only my husband said you wouldn't approve of him. I don't know why, I'm sure. He said you knew some things. I mene you, Rowena, He said he was afraide you wouldn't think he was fit. He says there ain't nobody worthy of me. My hus- band is some silly about me now, but I guess that'll be sure to ware of in time. My husband — " 264 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Mrs. Turtle put her hand on her daughter's arm. " Stop !" she exclaimed, " who is it ? who is it ?" The voice was ihin and hard. Rowena looked up. " I only read the name she has signed," she an- swered, " and that is ' Sarah K. Tuttle Foster.' " The speaker could not help laughing unpleasantly when she had made this reply. " Foster ? What Foster ?" querulously. " It is some one she knew through me," was the remorseful reply. " You have to thank me. You saw his sister once. She stopped here all night, and went to Boston in the boat-cart with me the next morning." '—Mrs Tuttle tried to recollect. " But I thought he had done something : he was running away r' " He was. He had embezzled. But he says that's all fixed now, and he's a financier at present. Shall I go on with Mrs. Foster's letter ?" Rowena felt that she must get rid of the" bitterness in her heart. But in all that bitterness there was relief that her sister had not married Mr. Soule. She was sure her chances of happiness were greater with Fos- ter. She was sure Foster was a better man. " My husband," continued Rowena, " says you and mother '11 be sure to forgive us now you can't help yourselves. He says he's right on the square every time now, and he's got a lott of money. He says he noticed me first on the street, that time I told you about, because I looked so much like you, only pret- tier. That's foolish ; but he thinks so, and I'm sure NOT IN THE WOODS 265 I hope he'll keep thinking so. We were married in Boston. I'll tell you all about it some day when you 'n' mother come to visit me on Commonwealth Avenoo. We're going to live there. My husband says the avenoo's none too good for me. I've got some lovely close. Hansomer than any you have. You always did dress to sober. We are going south. War'n't it funney we should see Mr. Soule on the boat. We did. My husband says he's jealous of Mr. Soule. It won't hurt him a bit to be jealous. I did have an awful fancy for Mr. Soule. I. thought he ment something, first, but I guess 'twas his way. I don't think he really wanted to go with me, though he was some atentive. My husband says it would do mother a grate deal of good to go south. He said he'd be glad to pay all her expenses. He says he shouldn't feel it in the least. I always did think you married first rate, Rowena, but I guess I'm a step ahead of you now. My husband says — " At this point Mrs. Tuttle put out her hand. "Wait a minute," she said. She laughed, but the tears rolled down her cheeks. " There isn't much more," responded Rowena. " Let us finish it." " My husband says he wished to send his warm re- gards, and that mother better think about the South. We are going to stop in Charleston a few days. My husband has business there. He says direct to the Charleston Hotel. I hope you ain't worried much about me. And I hope mother's better. With bushels of love to you all, I remain, Sarah K. Tuttle Foster. 266 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " P. S. You remember that envelopp mother picked up on the floor, and you all made such a fuss about. That was from Mr. Soule. I thought when you first handed it to me, 'twas from Ferdinand, and I wouldn't tell afterward, I was so mad. Mr. Soule wrote to me to keep a book he had lent me. " Ferdinand used to take me round to lunches and ■things some when you were painting. You remember that messinger boy? That was from him. I knew you was tried with me. Ferdinand said it wa'n't no use telling you. " It's a lott more interesting to run away when you get married. You tell Marthy S. so. Then perhapps she can get the deecon to elope. " S. K. T. F." Rowena folded the paper and looked down at it as she held it in her hand. Neither she nor her mother spoke for a long time. Mrs. Tuttle had closed her eyes, and her face had a look of endurance upon it. At the same time it wore a relieved expression. " Don't you think, mother," at last said Rowena, " that I might better tell Mrs. McGee that she may give the public to understand that Sarah Kimball is not in the woods ? And then all these men who are searching for her can go home to their families," Mrs. Tuttle opened her eyes. " What kind of a man is he, really, Roweny ?" she asked, anxiously. " I f hink he is good-hearted and generous and Vul- gar," was the answer. She added, "and as honest as you can expect a financier to be." NOT IN THE WOODS 267 " I don't know what a financier is,'' said Mrs. Tuttle, helplessly. " Nor I," said her daughter. "What do you s'pose her father would have thought of him ?" The widow held her handkerchief to her eyes. Rowena hesitated. She knelt down by her mother, who suddenly continued : " Your father always liked Mr. Bradford. He said Mr. Bradford was the right sort." Rowena bent her head to her mother's lap. She put up her hand to her throat with an involuntary gesture. Presently she said : " I suppose father would have said Mr. Foster was ' as good as the average.' And perhaps, mother, Sa- rah Kimball would not have appreciated one much better." "Mebby she wouldn't," sighed Mrs. Tuttle. "I guess I'll lay down a little while, 'n' you c'n go 'h' tell the folks. This has been dretful tryin' on me. Roweny," — when her daughter had covered her on the bed, and had reached the door — " don't let Mrs. McGee git to my whiskey-bottle agin. And you let the little dorg come in here," 268 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD XIX A BLUEBIRD A COMMUNITY will soon recover from any emotion. People rapidly reconciled themselves to the fact that Sarah Kimball was not in the woods, either from being allured there or carried there. They felt for the moment that a mere elopement defrauded them. But they fell to discussing that fact, and sucked it dry of every particle of entertainment long before a week was gone. It was understood tliat Sarah Kim- ball had made a marriage so brilliant that that of the other Tuttle girl was nothing in comparison. Mrs. McGee actually appeared to become possessed of an imagination upon this occasion. It became noised through the neighborhood that the state of the Queen of Sheba must have been humble compared with the present condition of Sarah Kimball. Mrs. Tuttle seemed to rally a good deal. She coughed less; she ate more. She received in smil- ing silence the remarks of the friends who called to talk over the match. Every day she would look anxiously at Rowena and say : "You c'n paint jes's well here, can't you, Row- eny?" A BLUEBIRD 269 And every day the daughter would reply : " Yes, just as well. I shall stay with you, mother." But she did not paint now. She often looked over her sketches of the snowy hollow and touched them here and there. The hollow was empty now, save for a few feet of snow and water which still remained in the lowest depression. Meanwhile Rowena had written a full account of the elopement to Mrs. Sears. She had explained to that lady why she had asked her to investigate in re- gard to Mr. Soule's acts. " It was very awkward I know," wrote Rowena, "and I asked a disagreeable favor of you. Having begun by asking favors, I continue. I shall not leave mother, even for a day, at present. I can see no prospect of going back to my rooms. If you would let your maid pack up and send out to me whatever of my belongings are still there ; if you would pay a month's rent and give up the rooms — you see, dear Mrs. Sears, that I make use of my friends. I have too much thrifty New-England blood to wish to con- tinue the expense of keeping the apartment when I have no prospect of occupying it. In fact, I am tied here for an indefinite time. I am too thankful that I can be here with mother. But I will not pretend I am happy, or even cheerful. Desolation broods over the fields and the hills. Winter is going, but spring has not come. Do you know what it is in the coun- try before spring does come > When the whole world seems to be weeping and dripping itself away ? When everything is saddened and gloomy ? But this is not 270 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD the way I talk to my mother. I am looking for blue- birds — they are late this year." Having sent such an epistle as this away, Rowena set herself resolutely to conquer the mood which had inspired it. And she succeeded so well that her mother did not suspect that her daughter was not cheerful. But the older eyes were often fixed with mournful questioning upon the young face. Mrs. Tuttle, now that she was " more comfortable," had more time to think over the many things which puz- zled her. But she asked no more questions. Letters came very frequently from Bradford, and Rowena often read paragraphs from them to her mother. Mrs. Tuttle always scrupulously sent her "regards," and hoped that the writer of these epistles was in good health. Sarah K. Tuttle Foster also wrote occasionally. But she did not like to write. She was now in Flor- ida. She spoke, incidentally, of the climate and the sand, but principally of " My husband," until her mother and sister felt as if they would almost forego hearing from the young wife that they might also be relieved from hearing of the husband. Miss Phillipps also wrote. In the most genial of moods she seemed to be. She had been travelling in Southern California, but she was back again at the Listers'. She had no idea when she should return East. One's life was so broad and full where she was ; but not crowded with human beings. She was still tired of human beings. She did not speak of her A BLUEBIRD 27 1 cousin. She deplored the fact that Rowena had not gone with her. Would not she come some day? Rowena folded the missive and sat with it in her hand by the small-paned window which looked out upon the road. She felt shut away from everything. She recalled that day when her sister had refused to go a journey with her and Miss Phillipps. What if she had gone ? Her quiet pulses stirred at the thought. Her fin- gers tightened on the paper they held. But here was her place. She glanced at the bed, whereon her mother was quietly sleeping, and the disturbed pulses grew still again. Rowena had so fought against looking into the future that now she conquered herself quickly. She turned towards the window again. There was no snow now. When you put your foot down on the turf in the yard the water oozed up. When you stepped in the highway your feet sank down in the mud. But the roads were " settling." When the iErost was once really out, the gravelly roads were soon hard. It was getting so it did not " freeze nights." Perhaps you know what a hopeful effect that fact has. There was a strong south-east wind thrashing the slender branches of the elms about and making the two pines across the way bend and moan. As Rowena gazed, with her forehead leaned against the window-pane, something moving came into her line of vision. In a moment she saw that the some- thing was a woman with a cloud on her head, a shawl 272 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD on her shoulders, and a hand at each side, holding up her skirts. In another moment she recognized Georgie Town- shend, who turned into the yard and nodded and smiled at her friend. Rowena nodded and smiled also. She rose and noiselessly left the room. As she passed through the entry she asked herself if young Jim could have cut another tooth. She tried to brace herself for the recital of every symptom attending that function. " Big Jim was jes' settin'. in the house, 'n' I thought I'd come over a little while 'n' let him tend to the baby," explained Georgie, as she sat down in the rocker Rowena drew forward for her. " I s'pose your mother's 'bout so ?" beginning to unwind her cloud. " Yes. I almost begin to hope she is better." " Now don't be too much encouraged, Roweny, 'cause you'll be so awful down if she ain't better. Not that I mean to look on the dark side. Seems to me you're kinder pale, ain't you ?" Georgie did not wait for any reply to her question. She took from her pocket a small red sock in the proc- ess of formation, and began to knit upon it. " It's settlin' consid'able fast," she remarked. "Jim said to-day that if it didn't freeze for a night or two now the goin' would be quite decent." Rowena professed joy at this prospect. She was wondering what Georgie had on her mind. And why did Georgie cast such questioning glances at her, and at the same time have such an air of ostentatious free- dom from having anything on her mind ? A BLUEBIRD 273 At the risk of giving vent to a deluge of words, Rowena asked after the bodily welfare of the baby. But the baby's mother only said that little Jim was uncommon well lately; so well that she was almost frightened about him for fear something was going to happen. Having said this, Georgie ceased to talk about the boy. Mrs. McGee, now regular "hired help," came into the room with an armful of clothes from the line. She proceeded to make arrangements to sprinkle these garments. Georgie seemed to grow uneasy. She let down stitches and picked them up again. There was a heavy frown on her usually smooth face. After a few moments she suddenly rolled up her red sock and put it back in her pocket. " I guess I must be goin'," she said. Rowena's assertion that her giiest had only just come had no effect. When she had rewound her cloud she looked at her friend and said : " You don't want to go part way with me, do ye .' It's ruther mild. Mebby 'twould do ye good to git a breath of fresh air." Rowena hastened to equip herself. She was be- coming really alarmed. Was it true that Georgie had not come over for the purpose of talking of little Jim ? The two women went out of the house and began picking their way slowly along. For a good while Rowena waited for her friend to speak, but at last she put this question : " Have you seen any bluebirds yet ?" 18 274 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD " No, I ain't. Jim said to-day that this weather'd bring um." A few more rods were traversed in silence. Then Georgie, turning her head directly away from her companion, asked : " I s'pose you remember that Jewett girl, don't you ?" " What ? Mary Jane Jewett ? Yes, indeed." Rowena looked anxiously at Georgie. It could hardly be possible that Jim Townshend was having a relapse into his old state of infatuation. She did not dare to make any inquiries. She remained silent. " You know she lives in Boston. Her husband's in a grocery store there." " Yes." " Well, she's visitin' out to her mother's now. Jim hauled some wood to Mrs. Jewett yisterdy. He see Mary Jane." At this stage of the narrative Georgie appeared to find it impossible to proceed. Rowena's imagination went to dreadful lengths in regard to Jim and his old love. " Mary Jane's husband sends her the Daily Blank from Boston real often," went on Georgie, " 'n she give Jim this paper. She said she thought it was a mean shame, and she hoped you or Mr. Bradford could do something about it. She said, whuther it was true or not, it was mean's it could be. Jim said I better give the paper to you." Rowena extended a cold hand for the closely folded printed sheet. She could not imagine what was in it. A BLUEBIRD 275 " I guess I better hurry right along now," said Georgie. But before she hurried right along she put a hand on her friend's arm and continued earnestly : "You know what I think of you, Roweny, 'n' what anybody 't knows you thinks. Now don't you be too much plagued. Though 'taint in reason you shouldn't feel it some." Now Georgie hastened on. Rowena went to the road-side and leaned against the fence as she opened the paper. She immediately saw two heavy ink marks encircling the following paragraph : " Beauty and talent ! The possessor of them not always happy in the marriage relation ! Will there be a divorce ! Has she another love ? We regret to learn that the beautiful and well-known young artist, Mrs. Keats Bradford, whose latest picture, ' In Mid- August,' we have all so much admired, is not a happy wife. Her husband, we know upon good authority, is at a certain town in California, while she resides in Boston. We have not yet discovered the cause of this separation. Doubtless it results from incompatibility of tempera- ment. We should be loath to learn that there was any other attachment on the part of either the hus- band or the wife. Mrs. Bradford was once a country girl from way-back, but no one who knows her now would ever dream that such was the fact." Rowena read these lines twice before the poison of them really reached her mind. As her fingers tightened and shook in their hold upon the paper, she said, in a whisper ; " Oh, Keats !" 27& MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Then she turned and leaned her arms on the fence and covered her face. The paper flew about in the wind, and finally rustled up between a stone and a post. Presently she lifted her head and looked about her. She was repeating over and over to her.self the words, " It was my fault ; at first ; at first." Then came a furious desire to suppress these printed words, and as furious a feeling of helplessness. How they would wound Keats ! She could picture the fury in his face as he read. And he would be sure to see them. Somebody always sent an ac- quaintance anything like that. What could she do ? To battle with such a thing was like battling with air; it eluded and flowed on and on. All newspapers would not have published that paragraph, but many dealt in just such kind of material. Rowena had a moment of frantic mental search for some kind of weapon with which to deal a return blow. Then she gave up the search. She stopped and gathered up the paper, keeping her eyes aloof from it as she did so, as if it were some- thing loathsome. She tried to look over the country now with a mechanical attempt to see some hopeful token of spring. It was really spring. Now and then would come a day when the world felt that the winter was over. The swift, strong wind from the south-east was still blowing. There was a great roar among the pines, and a dull clashing among the bare boughs of the other trees. A BLUEBIRD 277 All at once something flew by her face, so close to her that she could not tell what it was. Immediately, from the top of one of the cedar posts near, came a clear, lovely call : " Dearie ! Oh, dearie !" Who that has ever been a country girl does not know the thrill of joy and thankfulness which this song of the bluebird, first heard after the winter, brings to the heart ? Rowena turned as one might turn at the call of a lover. There he was. His back shone a keen blue in the sunlight. His dusky red bosom looked sleek and smooth. He was far enough away to be able to gaze calmly with shining eyes at Rowena, who held herself motionless. He gave a whisk and went froni the post to the rail. He made his little call again. It was a promise of cheer. It was a prophecy of happiness. A curious, unreasonable glow diffused itself through Rowena's consciousness. She walked home as if she had seen some glorious miracle which was to renew all beautiful things for her. In the kitchen she flung the paper into the stove, and saw it curl up among the oak-wood coals. She hurried into her mother's room. " Didn't I he^r Georgie Townshend's voice ?" asked Mrs. Tuttle. "Yes." " Did she come for anything in particular ?" " She said little Jim was so well now that she was frightened." 278 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Rowena laughed as she answered. Her mother looked at her keenly. " Has anything happened ?" she inquired. " Yes," was the gay reply ; " something happened out there by the clump of five pines as I was coming back from going part way with Georgie." "Roweny," said Mrs. Tuttle, anxiously, "I don't know what to make of you. What was it happened by the five pines ?" " A bluebird, mother." She put her cool hand on her mother's forehead as she answered. " He came and stood on the fence. He called me ' dearie,' just as he called me when I was a small child. I'm afraid I can never mix just such a blue as he had on his back. Spring is coming. Next Wednesday it will be April. And you are better. When you are a little stronger, mother, would you like to go to some other climate until it is June here ?" Mrs. Tuttle leaned back in her chair and looked up with admiring love into the face above her. " It does seem as if I was stronger ; 'n' I certainly don't cough as much." " Not nearly so much," hastily exclaimed Rowena. " But I've ben thinking—" Here Mrs. Tuttle paused. She seemed to find some difficulty in going on. Her daughter felt a vague terror coming upon her. " Never mind what you've been thinking," she in- terrupted. " But I must mind. Mebby it's only a notion. Sick folks have so many notions, you know. I've ben A BLUEBIRD 279 feelin' all the time sence I was taken that I shouldn't git up May hill. Now, don't cry, dear child ! Dear little girl !" For Rowena appeared to have lost the self-control which she had thus far maintained while in her moth- er's presence. She had turned suddenly away and covered her face. She stood motionless. She was half suffocated by the sobs she would repress. But Mrs. Tuttle's eyes were dry. She reached forward and took hold of the skirt of Rowena's gown. " You know," she repeated, " sick folks are jest as notional's they c'n be. There was old Miss Roper was bound she'd got a darnin' needle in her inside, 'n' couldn't live a month. I can't say but she did have a darnin' needle into her ; if she did, 'twas real healthy for her, for she lived thirty-five years after that, 'n' was ninety -three. She did stick to it 'bout that needle. 'N' she gave special directions as to her fu- neril. Now, Roweny, p'raps I've got jes 's much sense 's she had." Mrs. Tuttle talked on in that weak, hollow-chested tone that is so hard to bear when it comes from one beloved. She was smiling now, but she meant to say this time what had been in her mind to say. " You must make up your mind tq hear me, Roweny. Set right down here. There, that's right. I'm kinder worried 'bout the boys. I don't feel's if I could de- pend on Sarah Kimball. I can't depend on anybody but you, Roweny." Rowena still. had one hand over her eyes. She was a8o MRS. KEATS BRADFORD now sitting on a stool at her mother's feet, and dose to her. She was entirely quiet. " You can depend on me, mother," she said. " Oh, I know that," with a long, quivering breath. Soon she went on. "The school- master 'fore this one told me that Nathan Henry could do most anything with mathe- matics, if he had a chance. You know how he likes his sums." " He shall have a chance. I intended that." " I guess Martin 'd ruther farm it 'n' anything else." " I think I can arrange with the others that he shall have this farm." There was silence after this. Mrs. Tuttle looked intently down at the figure at her knees. Two or three times she essayed to speak. At last she said : " I s'pose you have plenty of money ?" " Plenty. And even if Keats were not so lavish, I can now earn money." Rowena suddenly sat upright. Her eyes were hot, but her face was very pale. She looked up at her mother. She made an unconscious gesture of piteous entreaty. " Mother !" she cried, in a low voice, " don't ! — don't ask me about myself! Even to you I can't talk. And never, never blame Keats! If you die you can, perhaps, look down from heaven and see into his heart. You will see how noble it is — how — oh!" The thrilling voice abruptly ceased. The two women looked into each other's eyes for A BLUEBIRD 28 1 an instant. Then Mrs. Tuttle leaned over and kissed her daughter. " Mother'll always love you," she said ; " if I die I shall love you jest the same." Very soon after she said she would lie down. She felt sleepy. She suggested that Rowena go into the kitchen. She asked her to see that " Mrs. McGee didn't git to her whiskey bottle," and she wanted the little dog to come and lie on the foot of her bed. Marmaduke was nosing about in the yard. The departed snow had revealed a great many bones, and the Yorkshire intended to find them all before the bull-terrier could succeed in the same pursuit. But Marmaduke trotted cheerfully in, allowed his feet to be wiped, and then entered Mrs. Tuttle's room. Mrs. Tuttle smiled from her pillow at her daughter when the latter had arranged her comfortably. She glanced down at the terrier, who was sitting on his haunches waiting for his mistress to leave, so that he might settle down for his nap. "He's a lot of company," said Mrs. Tuttle. "I'll ring my bell when I need anything." Rowena left the room. She sat a few moments in the rocker by the kitchen window. She was continu- ally telling herself, " She is certainly better. But to- morrow I will send again for that doctor from Boston ; though he said she needed no medicine, only nourish- ing food and watchful care." She said just these words over and over until they lost all meaning for her. She caught herself saying them aloud and wondering why she did so. 282 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD After a time she put on her mother's old shawl and cloud, and went out into the lane which led from the barn-yard. All the farms nearly had lanes leading from the barn-yards. This one went down into a meadow, over which her father had laboriously built a bridge, and there it climbed into an upland pasture. Rowena walked briskly. She was glad she had taken her mother's shawl and hood. She liked to have them wrapped closely about her. She strolled on until she had gone to the utmost limit of the past- ure. But she came back very quickly. It seemed to her that she had been gone too long. " Has mother rung ?" she asked, as she opened the door into the kitchen. " No," said Mrs. McGee. " I guess she's havin' a first-rate nap. "I call her better. But the little dorg whined a minute ago." A PARTING 283 XX A PARTING As Mrs. McGee thus answered Rowena's question, the little dog whined again. " There !" said the house-keeper, "you hear him. I'm afraid he'll wake your mother up. I guess he's hungry j" In this woman's mind a dog was always hungry. A cold, faint fear came to Rowena's heart. She did not pause to remove overshoes or shawl. She pushed by Mrs. McGee and softly opened the door into her mother's room. She carefully closed the door behind her. Marmaduke, who was standing on the pillow close to Mrs. Tuttle's face, leaped down and ran to his mis- tress. His mistress did not look at him or notice him. She looked only at the bed. The woman lying there was so still. Still with that stillness which is like notliing else in this world. Rowena made no sound. The first swift glance told her all. She went and put her hand to her moth- er's heart. She bent her ear to her mother's lips. Strangely enough, she was saying to herself : " How calm I am !" The dog stood drooping in the middle of the room. He was staring intently at the bed. 284 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Rowena went back to the kitchen. " Mrs. McGee, will you go and ask Mrs. Warner to come here ?" she said. Mrs. McGee almost dropped the wood she was go- ing to put in the stove.' " Is your mar worse ?" Rowena turned her face away. She felt as if a spasm convulsed her muscles. " I would like to see Mrs. Warner as soon as pos- sible," she said. Mrs. McGee resented this answer. But she was moved to use the utmost haste in summoning Mrs. Warner, who was the nearest neighbor, and Georgie's mother. Rowena went back to that room. She began to try mustard and stimulant, and all the simple means she knew. But she was all the time aware that noth- ing could be of any use. She sat down by the bed and leaned her arm on it, looking down at the placid countenance there. And again she said to herself : " How calm I am ! I thought I should lose all self- control. I am almost as calm as she looks." She felt that she was considering herself as if she were some one else. She even thought that the neighbors would not think she cared much. They would tell each other that Roweny took her loss real easy. Very soon Mrs. Warner came hurrying in, out of breath, She gave one glance, then she put her hand on Rowena's shoulder. A PARTING 285 " You poor child !" she said, thickly. In a moment she added : " We'll send for the doc- tor. But 'taint no use." Mrs. McGee was again sent over to the Warner homestead, this time to ask Mr. Warner to drive as fast as he could to Middle Village for the doctor. Mrs. Warner sat down with Rowena. She was crying and openly wiping her eyes. " Was you with her ?" she asked, after a silence. " No." Rowena looked intently at Mrs. Warner. She saw how large the handkerchief was with which Mrs. War- ner was sopping her eyes. She thought the hand- kerchief must belong to Mr. Warner. " No," she repeated. The woman leaned forward, and again placed her large red hand on her companion. " I'd ruther see ye cry," she said. And then she cried more violently herself. When she could speak she inquired : " Had she ben any worse ?" " No. She had seemed better. She said she felt sleepy. She said she'd lie down ; and she asked to have the little dog come in." Here Rowena paused. In a moment she went on : " I called Marmaduke. Then I walked up the lane. I went to the top of the pasture. I wore mother's shawl and hood. I felt as if I'd like to wear them^ God ! O God !" The cry came suddenly and sharply. 286 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Mrs. Warner sprang to her feet and threw her arm about her companion, who turned blindly towards her and began to sob violently. But her eyes were dry. "There! — there!" Mrs. Warner said again and again, as if Rowena were a baby. But Rowena did not hear her. She was only dimly conscious that some one was holding her and wishing to befriend her. She tried to stop sobbing. She had no coherent thoughts. All the words that came to her were the words of that call of anguish. Inwardly she cried re- peatedly, "OGod!" Finally she stopped sobbing. She lifted her flushed face and saw Mrs. McGee coming in through the open outer door. Marmaduke was vainly endeavoring to reach her. She absently took him in her arms. She had a dim feeling that she should love him more than ever. He was trembling piteously in sympathy. She held his little body tightly, without knowing that she did so. She heard Mrs. McGee announce that Mr. Warner had already started. Then the house-keeper walked into the room and looked at that on the bed. "I wish you'd go away." Rowena spoke almost violently. She felt that she could not endure to have Mrs. McGee there. "You'd better go out," counselled Mrs. Warner, mildly, to the woman. Then, nodding towards Row- ena, she added: "You mustn't mind her, hut I guess you'd better go out. I'll call you if we need ye." A PARTING 287 Mrs. McGee obeyed. But she secretly resolved that she "wouldn't forget this of that Roweny." " I s'pose you'll have to send a message to Sarah Kimball," remarked Mrs. Warner. " I'll git my hus- band to take it. I wish I'd thought when he went for the doctor." Rowena looked at the speaker. She did not re- spond. She turned back towards the bed again. She leaned there with a poignant fondness. Mrs. Warner thought it might be just as well to keep talking. " I s'pose you know where your sister is ? I hope she'll be able to git here in time for the funeral." Rowena made a slight movement, but she did not reply. Marmaduke was huddled uncomfortably in her lap. " I s'pose you know where she is ?" repeated Mrs. Warner. Rowena made two efforts before she said : " Her last letter was from Tampa. But that was more than a week ago. She said they hadn't decided where they should go next." "Where is Tampa?" " In Florida." " Well," went on Mrs. Warner, in pursuance of her resolution that it was best to keep talking, " then, I sh'd think you'd better send word to Tampa. You c'n put off the funeral a day or two if she thinks she can come." Rowena shuddered silently. There was a sound of steps and talking in the yard. 288 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD Rowena started and pressed her hands together. " It's the boys !" she whispered. " Oh, will you go ? Don't let Mrs. McGee tell them ! Don't let her !" " No, no ; I won't." Mrs. Warner hurried out. Rowena put her head down on the pillow. Her mother's shawl, which she had unconsciously kept on, fell from her shoulders. The terrier slipped down with it and curled himself on it at his mistress's feet. " You couldn't get up May hill, mother." Rowena spoke with such heart-broken tenderness that it almost seemed as if those sealed ears might hear. When Mrs. Warner came in she was wiping her eyes again. " The boys," began Rowena. "I told um. They've gone to the barn, I guess. Poor boys ! They lobked awful." It seemed a long time before the doctor came. He said nothing could be done. He looked with curious intentness at Rowena. He extended his hand, saying " Will you allow me ?" He placed his fingers on her wrist. She hardly knew that he did so. He rose, saying : " If you have any message for the telegraph office, I am going to Merrill, and will take it." The message was sent to Mrs. Ferdinand Foster, at Tampa, with a request for a reply. It was not until next morning that a reply came from a hotel clerk A PARTING 289 that Mr. and Mrs. Foster had gone, had talked of going to Havana and New Orleans, but he knew nothing definite. So it happened that the younger daughter was not sitting with her sister and the two boys in the mourn- ers' room at the little house. The minister read from the Bible ; he made a few remarks, and then he prayed, standing in the small front entry between the two front-rooms. He did not speak very loud, and Rowena was thank- ful for that. She did not listen to anything he said. Afterwards the four principal singers from the choir of the " orthodox church " sang, " The mistakes of my life have been many," and Georgie Townshend played an accompaniment upon Sarah Kimball's melodeon. Then a man appeared in the door-way and said that the friends could now look at the remains. And they would please pass out at the rear door. Rowena sat between her two brothers. She had not put on crape. She wore black. But the absence of crape was condemned by a great many who glanced at her as they moved slowly along to the side of the coffin. When they had reached the yard they would turn and say to each other : " I wonder if Roweny'U stay here long ?" and " I don't see her husband." Then some one would re- mark : " I think Miss Tuttle looked real natural." At last, when the room was empty of all save those three, Rowena rose. Nathan Henry silently took one 19 290 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD of her hands. Martin, on the other side, seized a fold of her skirt. Both boys were sobbing with the violence of youth. But Rowena did not sob as she looked down at that face. The three turned away. Once more Rowena bent forward. Then she drew herself up. She heard some one reading names from a slip of paper. It was the list of the order in which the mourners would go to the grave. Her name was first, but she did not quite under- stand it until the man " who had charge " came and whispered to her. She and her brothers followed him. Jim Town- shend was standing by his horse and carriage, and he helped Rowena to the back seat. Nathan Henry, still shaken with sobs, sat down beside her, and Martin took his place by Jim, who was to drive. The horse slowly stepped along to its position near the hearse. As it stopped to wait, a small object dashed out of a just-opened barn door and ran to the carriage. As it paused for an instant, yibrating and looking up, some one stepped towards it. But Marmaduke drew his little frame together and leaped. "Let him stay. I want him," Rowena said, in a smothered voice. She took the dog in her arms and bent her face to his head. The procession crawled over the wet road. When it turned in at the graveyard, a bluebird swept down A PARTING 291 on the top of a granite post. From this post swung the black iron chains of the enclosure. He flirted his wings. He called, " Dearie ! dearie !" Then he flew away. Georgie Townshend remained at the Tuttle house when the others had departed. She said she was going to stay all night. Rowena thanked her. For once Georgie's tongue was quiet. She helped Mrs. McGee get supper. There were no relatives who stopped for a feast, much to Mrs. McGee's disgust. Rowena had announced that she would have no one invited to stay. And she said it with such firmness that the house-keeper dared not disobey. But she took occasion to explain the matter, with comments, to several cousins who had driven five miles, and who would have been obliged to go back fasting if Mrs. Warner had not proposed that they come over to her house. It was not the same to them, however, as if they had been at the house of mourning. They said, with some bitterness, that they s'posed Rowney'd got her head full of strange notions. And where was her husband, anyway? It would have looked very well if he had been there. Mrs. Warner explained that Mr. Bradford was in California, on business. And she artfully added that Mr. Bradford was one of the nicest men she ever met, and that he seemed to think that nothing was too good for his wife. She that was Mary Jane Jewett had come to the funeral. She had tried to get where she could shake hands with Rowena, but could not. 292 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD She thought of that paragraph in the Daily Blank. She looked through the door into the mourners' room. She saw Rowena sitting between her two brothers. With some blood-thirstiness she said to herself that she would like to chop off anybody's head who talked about that woman. The days followed each other now with a sense of uniform desolation. April came quickly. The robins were hopping about in the great yard of the farm-house. When people asked Rowena if she should stay there, she always replied that she had formed no plans. She consulted with the boys, and arranged for their schooling at an academy in a town about twenty miles away. They would go " after Fast." She had written to Keats the day following the funeral. When the time came when a letter from him should be due she was surprised that none carrie. She took her easel from its banishment in a closet. She set up a canvas upon it. She brought out her sketches of that snowy hollow. She languidly began to mix paints. But she had no inspiration. She looked dully at the colors. They were not what she wanted. But all one forenoon, and the next, and the next, she sat before her easel with her palette on her thumb, and different brushes in her hand. At last she said : " I am not in the mood." As she was cleaning her palette, Georgie came in. She came every day. She told her husband she was worried about Roweny. " You can't guess what I heard to-day," she said. A PARTING 293 " No ; I can't." "Why, that the match between Marthy S. and the deacon is broken off. Ain't it funny ?" Rowena tried to consider whether it was funny or not. " It is rather strange," she answered, " What is the cause ?" " Nobody knows. Of course, it was the deacon," said Georgie, woman-like. " But I guess she's jest 's well off. She's saved enough to live on. 'N' she won't have them children to take care of." Georgie continued her call long enough to give the particulars of an " awful cunning thing " which lit- tle Jim had done that morning. After much hesita- tion, she inquired if her friend had heard anything more about that piece in that Boston paper. No; nothing more had been heard. " I guess it'll all die down. Jim thinks it'll all die down." So Georgie went home. Rowena stood at the door a long time after her friend was out of sight. The air was very soft, the sky very blue. The fields were still brown and wet. But the twigs and the limbs of willow^trees were al- ready showing a vividness of renewed life. The solitary woman looked about her with a calm face. She was thinking that really every human be- ing must stand alone. And she was getting so self- reliant. The one thing, since each soul must be alone, was to be self-reliant. What if she should always live here, and grow old here ? The time would come when she should be able 294 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD to paint. Her mood would change. Perhaps she should want to put on canvas all these scenes which were a part of her childhood. The picture would be a sort of autobiography. She might become in years a kind of Marthy S., or a Mrs. McGee. She smiled. The wind lifted her hair. It came from the south, and was like a caress. The frogs down in the meadow kept up an incessant piping. When she had heard them this spring, she had remembered that what you are doing when you notice that sound for the first time, that you will be doing all the year. " I think I have been very calm," she said.^loud, in a low voice. And she added, in a whisper : " But I wish my heart would not ache so. I am so tired of this ache. Shall I always have it?" She stepped on the old, worn door-stone and turned her face towards the distant slope where she could see the gleam of marble slabs. That was where the Tut- tles had been buried for many generations. That was where her father and mother lay. "She could not get up May hill," said Rowena. " She said she could trust me. Thank God for that !" She was turning back into the house when she saw a figure hurrying along the road. It was a woman's figure, and it' had a hemp bag hanging by its side. Marthy S. came on with her small, quick steps. She nodded eagerly at Rowena, who at that moment was thinking that she could not stay here where she must be visited by such people. They wore upon her^ they took the life out of her ; she could not bear it. Then A PARTING 295 some gentler emotion came to Her. A flood of sym- pathy suddenly .filled her heart. It was the tender- ness that comes to the nature which grief softens in- stead of embittering. " I thought I must call, though it was some out of my way," exclaimed Marthy S., coming up breathless, and extending a mittened hand. " How be ye ? How do ye git 'long ?" Rowena stepped back into the entry. " Come in. I am very well." She led the way into the sitting-room, where there was a low fire in the air-tight. "I s'pose you're dretful lonesome.'' Marthy S. took off her mittens and put them in her bag, but she said it was not worth while to " lay off her things." She had, as has been hinted, experienced a revul- sion in her mental attitude towards Rowena. And Rowena was too sensitive not to have been dimly aware of this change. " Yes." Marthy S. looked about her. " You must be dretful lonesome." "lam." " I didn't think you'd stay here even's long's you have." " I haven't decided on any plans yet," replied Row- ena, in her set phrase. " I s'pose you're waitin' to hear from your husband." No response. The young woman was thinking that there was still something very rasping in this woman's presence. 296 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD "It happened realbad that he couldn't be to the funeral, didn't it ?" went on Marthy S. " He could not have come in time." * " I s'pose so. But it made it bad. 'N' folks like to talk." " Yes," said Rowena, with some incision, " I know they like to talk." A dull red mounted to the dress-maker's forehead. She hesitated before she said in a different tone : " I didn't mean to be kind of provokin', but you know there's a good deal of curiosity round." " Is there ?" " Yes. And you know your bein' married in foreign parts so." "What.?" " In foreign parts, so." " I don't think I understand you." These words were spoken so coldly that they had the rather peculiar effect of making the dress-maker's blood begin to boil. And she was a little frightened, too. When she gave one swift look into Rowena's face she made a slight, retreating movement. " I declare," she said, " I didn't mean to be so pro- vokin', I guess my curiosity got the better of me, kind of." In the pause which followed these words, Marthy S. took out her mittens and put them on. Then she folded her hands. " I didn't know there was s'much old Adam in me," she said. " We don't seem to jibe somehow. I wanted to tell you somethin', Miss Bradford. But I d'now's A PARTING 297 you'll be interested. It's about me. You know you. told me-r-you said you thought — " Marthy S. stammered and blushed. Rowena's face softened as. she turned it towards thfe old maid and waited for her to go on, " 'Bout my engagement," speaking with pride the word " engagement." " You know what you said. 'N' I've been thinkin' of it ever sense.- 'N' I don't love him a grain. I couldn't honestly say that I loved him one grain. But, you know, women want to git married. That is, I expect they do. I told Deacon Roper the last time he come over 't I didn't love him. He laughed. You know what a laugh he has. It kinder grated on me. He said that didn't make no difference. He said love hadn't got nothin' to do with it. When it come to that kind of stuff, did I expect he loved me ? Married folks got along better if they wa'n't in love. He respected me, 'n' he thought I was a good house- keeper, scrabblin' 'n' all that. But if I had any ob- jections, why, there was Ann Delano that would jump at him if he give her a chance. I was some mad. I told him he might give Ann Delano the chance to jump, for I didn't know's I even went so far's respect- in' him. He bounced up out of his chair. He said ' All right ' in an awful loud voice. He marched out of the room. The next evenin' meetin' he was there with Ann Delano. It was some tough. But there ain't ben a minute since I done it that I ain't been glad I done it. You see, I wanted to tell you. I feel relieved that I ain't engaged to him. But, you know, 'twas kind of grand to be engaged. I never was en- 298 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD gaged before. But I don't love him, 'n' I wouldn't be his wife now for all the world." Marthy S. rose from her chair. She hung her bag with almost a violent motion on her arm. " No," she repeated, in a milder tone, " I never was engaged before. It wa'n't so interestin' as I expected it would be. But mebby if it had been somebody be- sides the deacon, 'twould have ben more interestin'. I'm so relieved, I guess I better be a goin'. Ish'Utell folks that Mr. Bradford couldn't have got here in time." " But it's provokin' that gverybody says the deacon broke it off. It makes me mad." "If they say so to me I know how to reply," said Rowena. When Marthy S. had gone, Rowena went into the kitchen, where Mrs. McGee still ruled. " Marthy S. has been here, ain't she .'"' asked that person. " I s'pose she's all used up 'cause the deacon has slipped her 'n' is goin' with Ann Delano." " It was Marthy S. who broke the engagement.'' Mrs. McGee stared at this. Then she tossed her head. " You don't make me believe that," she remarked. Rowena hurried to the room which she had shared of late with her mother. She opened a closet and began taking out some garments with rapid movements. After a little she paused. " But I must stay here until after Fast. Then the boys will go to school," she thought. CONCLUSION 299 XXI CONCLUSION Years seemed to be dragging themselves away in the days that passed before it was " after Fast," and time for the Tuttle boys to go to the academy. Rowena occupied every moment. If there came a brief space of time that was not crowded full she was frightened at the gloomy intensity of the feelings that came to her. But she was perfectly calm. She mended and sewed for the boys constantly. When Georgie Townshend remonstrated, the reply was that "mother would have done so." One day the doctor called, upon some pretence. He stood hesitating in the room. Finally he said, " I don't often volunteer a prescription. I venture to do so now. Mrs. Bradford, go away. Go away." Having said this, he abruptly left the house. Rowena needed no such command. The hour at last came when she stood on the step of her old house. She had just -been through the empty rooms. She had turned the key in the door and held it in her hand. It was the very last of April. In the country at such a time there are many hints of the glory and loveliness to come. The world is about to be trans- figured. Everything was sweet with promise. Grief 300 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD and troubles and battle were no more a part of the universe. The woman as she stood there was asking herself why she should leave it all. Why not stay on ? What should it matter to her where she was ? Georgia Townshend came hurrying down the road with a shawl on her head. " Jim'U be right here," she said. " I sh'll miss you dretfully, Roweny. Don't forgit to write. 'N' I'll be sure to send anything that comes from Sarah Kimball." Presently Jim came along with his best horse and carriage. He had taken the trunks early in the morn- ing. Rowena gave her friend the key. " I mean to be here by July, when the boys will have their vacation," she said. The two women kissed each other. The horse went smartly down the road. When she was in the train Rowena took from her satchel a letter. It was the last one she had written to Keats, the one which told of her mother's death. She had found it in one of Nathan Henry's pockets. He had calculated to mail it, but had entirely forgot- ten to do so. Then he had begun to wear another jacket, and the matter had entirely slipped by. Be- sides, it was only a letter. " He does not know," repeated Rowena to herself, as the train sped onward. Mrs. Ferdinand Foster could "not bear to write let- ters." She had told them at home that they need not expect to hear often from her. CONCLUSION 301 Perhaps it was for this reason that those at home did not know where to address her. And perhaps Rowena ought not to have been so surprised when, as she was pushing open tlie door of the ladies' room in the station at the foot of Summer Street, some one should seize her and kiss her exuberantly. " I declare !" cried Sarah Kimball, " ain't it funny ? We've just this minute left the train from New York. This is my husband, Roweny. I guess you know him," with a laugh. Then, as the two shook hands, she asked, " And how did you leave mother ?" But as the words left her lips, Sarah Kimball, now noting her sister's face, paled with sudden terror. She caught fierce hold of Rowena's arm. " What ?" she cried, in a whisper. " Mother is dead." Rowena's words sounded cold. But pity came to her on the instant. She put her arm around Sarah Kimball, who seemed to be going to fall. " We tried to find you," she said, hurriedly. Ferdinand Foster dropped his satchel and his cane. He tried to support his wife, but she pushed him away. " Don't make a scene here," sternly said Rowena. She had never liked " Ferd Foster " so well as now when she saw his face as he bent over Sarah Kimball. " Don't be hard on me, Rowena !" cried Mrs. Fos- ter. At this moment a man's voice was heard calling out, " Express train for New York, stopping only at — " Rowena started. Some resolutions came like flashes 302 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD of lightning, though they may have been long on the way. " I am going," she exclaimed. " No ! No ! Dear little sister, I won't be hard on you !" She kissed the pretty but now contorted face. She walked swiftly down the platform. As she went, she mechanically flung a fold of her long cloak over Mar- maduke, who was under her arm. Before five minutes were gone the conductor was ushering her into a drawing-room car. She sat down in a chair. The train pulled out of the station. Row- ena put her hand to her head. She was thinking that there was no reason why she should not go to New York. Still she knew it was not merely to that city that she was going. There was a great sense of con- fusion upon her. But her purpose shaped itself with perfect clearness within ten minutes. At the first stopping-place she telegraphed back to her banker's in Boston. She might as well have re- mained and gone to Royle's before starting. But no, she was glad she had not delayed. She was glad she had started. There would be no harm in waiting over a day or two in New York. She would buy a few things for her journey. She would get a basket, ap- parently for lunch, but really for Marmaduke. She would need all her wits to aid her in smuggling him through ; and she might not succeed. The attempt would be somewhat engrossing, however. Other dogs might be put in the baggage-car, but this terrier was not merely a dog. Yes, she was thankful that she had something to engross her. CONCLUSION 303 She tried to look very nonchalant. But her heart beat uncomfortably. She wished to appear to her fellow-passengers as if she had long been meditating upon this journey to New York and preparing for it. Did any one look at her suspiciously, as if she were doing anything strange ? She put on a still more care- less expression. She gazed from the window, not see- ing anything. She was really conscious only of the pulses which beat all through her. She bought a novel of the first boy who came with them piled upon his arm. She told him to select for her one of his best. She held it in her hand and occasionally turned its leaves. But through the entire journey that afternoon she did not even know the title. Later, when she found the volume in her satchel, a blush rose to her face that she should have touched such a thing. And yet they, and such as they, are piled high at every station, and thrust at you upon every train. Apparently you are still considered respectable, though you are seen with one in your hand. Before Rowena had thus suddenly taken flight from New England, Bradford had returned to the Lister ranch from a restless trip into Mexico and farther south. He said the journey had been enjoyable. He said that he liked travelling so well that he had de- cided to go to San Francisco and take steamer to Japan. If a man ever went to see Japan he must go before it had been written about so much that it was no longer interesting. He only came back to save the appearance of running away from the ranch, where he had had "such a good time." In point of fact, he 304 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD should go by the next steamer. So he would be obliged to leave the following morning. Thus one day he announced. Mr. Lister expressed surprise and regret; Mrs. Lister only regret. She told her husband afterwards that she would not have been surprised at any inten- tion of Mr. Bradford's. When questioned, she would not condescend to explain, for, she said, " Men never could understand anything." Miss Phillipps was not there to make any remarks. She had joined some friends in Santa Barbara. Being aware that this was not the day for the mail- carrier, Bradford told of his intention of riding over for the mail, as he should leave so soon. He should not be blessed, or otherwise, with any such adjuncts of civilization, at least while he was on the Pacific Ocean. So he rode out in the spring day towards Pink Rock. I am convinced that the reader of this knows some- thing of what I am going to tell him now. Readers are so astute and acute in these days that they fore- see everything. But there has been no mystery about this history, so no one can hug himself because he knew from the very first how it was "coming out." Of course he knew. And he knows now that Brad- ford had not galloped far beyond Pink Rock before he saw something approaching over the wide plain. This something came from the direction of the post- office and railroad town, and it was a buggy drawn by a pair of horses. But the rider, going on towards this equipage, CONCLUSION 305 thought very little of it, save that somebody had come to visit Lister's, or the next ranch. As it drew nearer it became perceptible that the figure beside that of the driver was the figure of a woman. Bradford drew aside. The woman's face was thickly veiled from the blinding glare. She seemed to bend eagerly forward, then to shrink back, far back upon the seat. The horse was wheeled abruptly round, and its rider appeared, bending a pale brown face almost into the carriage. The driver pulled up with a frightened motion. He almost expected a pistol to be held to his head. He did not know what a man who looked like that might do. "Were you going to let me ride right on, Rowena ?" Bradford put the question in a dry, hard voice. He found a difficulty in speaking at all. There was no reply. Rowena drew aside her veil. Her hand trembled as she did so. Her face looked thin and white and quiet. Bradford's eyes fixed upon that face. " Where were you going ?" he asked. " To Mr. Lister's." " Did you come to see Miss Phillips ?" " No." " Did you come to see me ?" he went on, relent- lessly. . "Yes." There was something in Bradford's air that was new to his wife. She did not know what it was. Per- haps it was that something which had brought the ' on 306 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD deep line between his brows, and given his face a kind of iron look. He turned to the driver, who sat flicking his long whip, and waiting until this conversation should be ended. " Ride my horse on to the Lister ranch," said Bradford, " and I will take your place." " All right. Have an eye on the off boss ; he's got a devil in him.'' The two men changed places. The driver galloped on ahead. During all this time there had been a frantic scratching and whining in a basket on the floor of the carriage. This demonstration was unnoticed until now Rowena stooped and released the prisoner, saying : " He hears your voice. It is unkind not to let him greet you." But Bradford did not respond td Marmaduke's salu- tations, though he allowed them. The horses were not told to go on. Bradford hung the lines over the dashboard. Rowena sat stiffly in her corner of the seat. She was looking straight on into the sunlighted space. She was thinking of her mother, and wishing she was dead beside her. Once, in those moments of silence that came, a terrible blush seemed to envelop her whole body in an agony. Bradford turned towards her. He repeated his words. " You came to see me ?" "Yes." CONCLUSION 307 ' There was something like terror added to Rowena's other emotions. She hardly knew the man beside her. She had known his gentleness, his tender consideration. " I suppose at last you were so sorry for me that you made this journey. You do not like to think any animal, human or brute, is suffering. You were sorry for me ?" " No. I think I was not." " This is getting puzzling. If you had been a few hours later I should have been on my way to Japan." No response to this. Rowena looked about her with a thought of trying to escape. Of course she must in some way have de- served this moment or it would not have been dealt out to her. That was her theory. If she could only get away again by herself. Possibly she might fight down, in time, the memory of this experience. She would probably be very old, however, before she could do that. "Rowena," said Bradford, "you were always truth- ful. Tell me why you came." She felt the justice of his demand. She tried to re- spond to it. She lifted her eyes to his face, almost as a child might have done. She spoke slowly and heavily. " I wanted to see you. I felt that I must see you." "Why?" Her eyes fell. Again that torturing blush came over her. " Keats, you are very cruel," she said. "Yes, I am," he answered, "but I will not be mis- 308 MRS. KEATS BRADFORD taken. It has taken a good many months for me to come to my resolution, but having come to it I shall live by it. I had determined never to see you again, unless you sent for me or came to me. It is you who are unutterably cruel if you have come to me save for one reason." Again Rowena did not speak. She was under the surgeon's knife. It was just. It was right that all should be clear. But she could not speak. " It was because I loved you that I left you," said Bradford. " Is it because you love me that you have come to me ?" Rowena clasped her hands with an uncontrollable gesture. Words suddenly came. " Yes ! yes ?" she cried out. " I have known for a long time that I loved you ; but when Mr. Soule told me I did not love you, then it all came to me how truly, truly I — no, no, don't touch me yet ! I have so many things to say. It must have been my fault some way that he could talk so. I cannot get over that. I—" " Soule .'" interrupted Bradford, fiercely. " I knew it was in him. But it was not your fault. D — n him ! The scamp ! But no matter. Don't tell me a thing now, Rowena. Only let me look at you ! Let me look at you !" It was some moments later that Rowena informed her companion, with a shy little tremor of voice, that she felt that he deserved that she should run across the continent after him. CONCLUSION 309 "And," she added, in that light tone which is some- times such a relief, " I wanted to see you in your buck- skin suit." Then she covered her face with her hands and began to weep in that convulsive relieving way which children have. She had not wept so since her mother died. She told him all her sorrow and anxiety. She felt with the keenness of response the strength of the love with which she was comforted. When they were driving slowly on towards the ranch, Rowena said : " And you don't care how much I paint ?" " I have long ago known that it was not your work that ever troubled me. I was mistaken if I ever thought so. It was something very different from that." " Perhaps you ought to care," she returned, serious- ly, " because I mean to keep right on. I have some lovely ideas." Marmaduke, sitting insecurely upon Bradford's knee, had an opportunity to know what are the feel- ings of that individual who is sometimes described as " a third person." THE END By MAKIA LOUISE POOL. MES. KEATS BRADFORD. A Novel. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental. {Just Beady.) ROWENY IN BOSTON. A Novel. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. Is a surprisingly good story. ... It is a very delicately drawn story in all particulars. It is sensitive in the matter of ideas and o£ phrase. Its characters make a delightful'company. It is excellent art and rare entertainment. — N. Y. Sun. The story is a capital one. ... In this dramatic tale Miss Pool has achieved a work of genuine artistic quality. — Newark Advertiser. Miss Pool has produced, if not "a human document," a' most enchanting story of American life. — FhUadelphia Ledger. Like Rowena at her brush, Miss Pool may be said to have the " touch." By a few lively strokes of her pen, her characters are made clear in outline, and are then left to explain themselves by;|their own words and actions. — Nation, N. Y. DALLY. A Novel. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. A quaint and highly interesting story. . . . The intimate ac- quaintance with New England village life exhibited throughout it is one of its distinguishing characteristics, and the develop- ment of " that Car'liny gal " under the fostering but not always judicious care of Mrs. Jacobs indicates a psychological insight in the author by no means common. — N. Y. Tribune. A delightful story. . . . The story is alive from the first to the last chapter, and is of absorbing and intense interest. — Watchman, Boston. There is not a lay figure in the book ; all are flesh and blood creations. . . . The Immor of " Dally " is grateful to the sense ; it is provided in abundance, together with touches of pathos, an inseparable concomitant. — Philadelphia Ledger. Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New Toek. J8®- The aibme works are for sale hy all looksellers, or will be sent by IIaefeb & BaoTWEiiR^ postage prepaid, to any part of the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price. BY MARY E. WILKINS. A New England Nun, and Other Stories. 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25, A HuMBLB Romance, and Other Stories. 16mo, Cloth, Extra, $1 25. Only an artistic hand could have written these 6torics, and they will make dclightftil reaidiug.— Evangelist, N. Y. The simplicity, purity, and quainthess of these stories set them aparb in a niche of distinction where they have no rivals. — Literary World, Boston. The readcrwhobuys this book and reads it will find treble his money's worth in every one of the delightful stories. — Chicago Jownal. Miss WilkiDS is a writer who has a gift for the rare art of creating the short story which shall be a character study and a bit of graphic picturing in one ; and all who enjoy the bright and fascinating short story will wel- come this volume. — Boston Traveller. The author has the unusual gift of writing a short story which is com- plete in itself, having a real beginning, a middle, and an end. The volume is an excellent one. — Observer, N. Y. A gallery of striking studies in the humblest quarters of American country life. No one has dealt with this kind of lifo better than Miss Wilkins. Nowhere are there to be found such faithful, delicately drawn, sympathetic, tenderly humorous pictures.— JV. T. THbune. The charm of Miss Wilkins's stories is in her intimate acquaintance and comprehension of humble lifo, and the sweet human interest she feels and makes her readers partake of, in the simple, common, homely people she draws. — Springfield JRepublican. There is no attempt at fine writing or structural efl^ct, but the tender treatment of the sympathies, emotions, and passions of no very extraor- dinary people gives to these little stories a pathos and human feeling quite their own. — N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. The author has given us studies from real lifb which must be the result of a lifetime of patient, sympathetic observation. . . . No one has done the same kind of work so lovingly and so well — Christian Register^ Boston. Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 9^ The above works sent by mail^ postage prepaid, to any part of the {Jniied StateSt Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price.