98C THE WAY THAT LED BEYOND. IWIV. OF CALM 1 . LIBBABY, LOS ANGELES THE WAY THAT LED BEYOND. BY J. HARRISON, Author of "Kind Hearts and Coronets." NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO: BENZIGER BROTHERS, Copyright, 1904, by BENZIGER BROTHERS, Printed in the United States of America. CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER I. GOING " HOME " , . 7 CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE ON THE HILL g . 18 CHAPTER III. FOB His SAKE , . , 30 CHAPTER IV. His SISTER, MAGDALEN ... 37 CHAPTER V. THE FLOWKB OF RESIGNATION ...., ( . 48 CHAPTER VI. THE APPARITION . . 58 CHAPTER VII. THE NEWCOMER i * * 77 CHAPTER VIII. PASSED DANGER * . * . 88 CHAPTER IX. THROUGH THE STOBM . . 104 CHAPTER X. IN CONFIDENCE .... 116 2130134 CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER XI. THE MESSAGB 126 CHAPTER XII. NEW PLANS , . 144 CHAPTER XIII. THE PASSOTG OF DANNY , . 158 CHAPTER XIV. THE BENDING OF THE TBEE . . 168 CHAPTER XV. THE BITTEBEST BLOW OF ALL * 176 CHAPTER XVI. THE STRUGGLE , . . 188 . CHAPTER XVII. THE SAVING OF PAMELA DANBT 202 CHAPTER XVIII. THE WAY THAT LED BEYOND 315 THE WAY THAT LED BEYOND. CHAPTER I. GOING "HOME." THE guard was a stout man with a red face, and he had a queer way of puffing out his words, one at a time. Had the ordinary number of passengers crowded the cars there would have been the usual number of comments on the thin, wheezy voice in such a great big body. " Birmingham next ! " he called, as the train came to a halt at the little wayside station. There were a half-dozen listeners no more. Trains from New York to the White Mountains are not crowded at Thanks- giving time. Suddenly the guard, busy with the lights, dropped them, bending over to assist a slim young lady to climb up the steps that led to the platform. Perhaps this civility was due, in great part, to the fact that the light from those same lanterns had fallen on a witching pair of blue eyes, raised to his con- fidingly before she placed her foot on the step. Entering the car, she sat down near the door, putting a leather dressing-case he carried on the seat beside her, and throwing a costly fur muff on top of it. " This is much nicer/' she said, musingly. " More secluded. Wonder what Dick will say when he gets that telegram? That one woman knows how to keep her word, I suppose ! " She 7 8 GOING "HOME." laughed. "Traveling is so monotonous, and so tiresome when one travels alone/' She did not look at all tired as she removed the small fur toque from her head, and arranged her blonde hair. That done, she glanced about her with a little shiver. There was no one near her. The guard put his head in, curiously he seldom saw so charming a picture, even though, in the busy season, he met many pretty women. And this guard had an eye for beauty. Phyllis beckoned to him. "We won't have to wait here very long?" she asked. The girl was a coquette. The red-faced man flushed a deeper red at the uncalled-for sweetness of tone, the lingering glance of blue, the smile that parted the young lips. " Ten minutes here an express passes us. Have you your ticket ? Segrovia that is the last stop. It will be two hours and a half 5 ' " Two hours and a half longer ? " Phyllis frowned and tapped her foot. Then she took the ticket from his fingers and smiled again. "Thank you." A little embarrassed, not so much at the courteous tone as at the irresistible glance that accompanied it, he walked toward the door. She settled herself more comfortably, wriggling around in her seat, and using her muff as a sort of support at the back to make her position easier. She looked very childish and very beautiful, the collar of the fur jacket she wore clinging close to the delicate roundness of throat and cheek. " Dear me," she mused, " in two hours and a half I shall be at the back of nowhere with my aunt, the Honorable Mrs. Browne. Mary Browne, relict of the late Thomas John Browne ! GOING "HOME." 9 What a truly inspiring name! Countrified? I can see her long curls, nose glasses, thin lips and all. I shall be expected to call her Aunt Mary, I suppose. Aunt Mary! Well, she'll see." There was something besides childishness in the glittering blue eyes now, and the red lips hardened rebelliously. Then as she turned her head to the window, a slight rustle of skirts attracted her attention. As if framed within the door a tall figure in black stood for an instant. The newcomer glanced up and down the car rapidly, not seeing the fair-haired girl at first, and then when she did, drawing back with an involuntary movement of dis- pleasure. Quickly recovering herself, however, she advanced down the aisle, putting her small hand-satchel into the rack above her head, and then seated herself with the easy composure and that lack of restlessness which show the experienced traveler. Phyllis Gordon, as we may as well begin to call her, had not misunderstood that first expression, and she resented it, glancing at the girl haughtily as she sat down, measuring her as strangers do when chance brushes one against the other. The train started. Dusk had settled on the surrounding country there was no light to see the wide, level fields through which they passed. Here and there the faint outline of a house appeared. The distant mountains approached nearer and ever nearer, until at last it seemed to Phyllis that they were cutting right through them. She put her cheek to the cold pane and gave herself up to thought. In a moment she was far away back in a scene of delight. She stood before her mirror, dressed in a simple little gown that made her doubly beautiful she knew, with his roses in her hair and at her belt. She was down in the long and brilliant drawing-room, with his hand holding her fan and his eyes looking into hers with his heart in them. What a night that was what a glorious night ! 10 QOINQ "HOME." Yet with all its sweetness the memory must have been sad, for after a while the tears gathered heavily on her lashes and found their way to her cheeks. Feeling them, she put up her handker- chief hurriedly, glancing at her companion to see if she had noticed. But the other's eyes were averted even as Phyllis' own had been, staring fixedly out of the window, while her hands rested lightly and idly in her lap. She had removed her hat as if ita weight hurt her and had not replaced it. And Phyllis, after that first stolen glance, could not take her gaze away. The profile was so calm, so quiet, the black lashes so immovable. It was strange to see such repose in a woman, especially in this land of nervous, unquiet women. The well-developed figure was clad in a gown of black cloth trimmed with a narrow edging of fur, and from her throat, suspended by a fine gold chain, hung a diamond cross. Her breath did not stir it it seemed part of her in the strange repose that seemed to enwrap her from head to foot. The hands lying so quiet and still fairly shone in their delicacy. How old was she, wondered Phyllis a woman's first wonder when another woman seems to have passed into the years of discretion (which for some are twenty, and which others do not reach ten years after twenty). So that this quiet creature might be anywhere between the two. Where did she come from? Was she maid or wife or widow ? For whom was she in mourning and if she were in mourning, went on Phyllis, with the fashionable leaning toward ultraism, why did she wear that diamond cross so conspicuously? And as she gazed, in addition to the wonder, great admiration grew upon her, so that when, almost compelled by that steady scrutiny, the dark-haired stranger turned her head, Phyllis could not bear to drop her eyes, but kept on staring until suddenly she recollected the rudeness of it. Perhaps it was the sorrow in GOING "HOME." 11 the deep eyes that brought Phyllis to herself. She begged her pardon quickly then, and had the grace to blush. The lids drooped wearily nor would she seem to acknowledge Phyllis' softly spoken words even by this. It appeared almost as if the outside world were immaterial beyond her care or her attention. Phyllis felt shut out, ignored. It was a new sensation. " Can you tell me when we will arrive at Segrovia ? " she ventured, timidly. "I am traveling through here for the first time and I assure you that I am quite at sea." The stranger opened her eyes and looked at the girl a full second before answering. Then in a clear, distinct voice she made answer : "Two hours, now, I believe. I, also, am traveling this way for the first time." " You are going to Segrovia ? " questioned Phyllis, eagerly. Again the stranger hesitated something like a sigh passing her lips. Perhaps it was the childishness of the young face near her that turned the sigh into a faint smile, freeing it from the resentment that stirred her at being drawn into an unwelcome conversation. She murmured: "Yes." " Oh, it is a dreary, dreadful, awful place in winter," said Phyllis. " It is not your home, then ? " the stranger asked, softly, let- ting her eyes seek the darkness beyond the window-pane. Phyllis leaned forward. There was something so musical in the intona- tion the word " home " lingered so lovingly upon her tongue. " God forbid ! " said Phyllis, then. " New York City is my birthplace. Oh but that is too good to be true ! you may be a New Yorker?" 12 GOING "HOME." Again that faint, tremulous smile. " It is too good to be true," said the stranger. " I was born in Italy." " An artist ! " thought Phyllis. " I might have known that." Then, aloud : " You were born in Italy and speak English so per- fectly?" " I am an Italian by birth only." " Oh ! Your people are English, then? " The curiosity, the unfeigned interest, were amusing. " No," smiling. " My parents were Americans. My father was born in Segrovia where I am going. I am going home ! " Was it fancy, or did a deeper note come to the full throat, a brighter gleam to the somber eyes ? Did the dark head curve itself raddenly, as if the heart of the woman had grown lighter and more daring and more courageous? "Going home!" laughed Phyllis. "To Segrovia to that forsaken place? No, no, not after Italy not after the blue Italian skies that you have known ! You will not stay." " Every land has its attractions." " Maybe," said the girl, wisely. " I believe the attractions of this beautiful country consist in four or five inhabitants on whom one can call, I mean the rest do not count ; endless snow, great blizzards, bitter cold. Do you think you could stand all that ? " " It is my will to do so," said the stranger. " Your will ? " and now it was Phyllis* turn to look upon her vis-a-vis with an affectation of superiority. " You think you can do what you wish just because you will to do so ? " She laughed softly. " There must be some other attraction." The stranger shrugged her shoulders with gentle impatience. " I do not know a soul there," she said. " Not a soul. But I GOING "HOME." 18 will stay there, and I will live there, and I will be happy there, because my father lived there and was happy, happy. I, too, would be happy and content,'* she repeated, under her breath. " But who will buy your pictures ? " asked Phyllis, sagely. " You can scarcely expect to find art-lovers among the four or five acceptable inhabitants. I daresay if they ever loved art they have outgrown so obsolete a characteristic for Segrovia by this time." " Art-lovers ? Pictures ? " echoed the stranger. " Surely you're an artist ? " The stranger laughed outright. " No," she said. " I am not an artist." Phyllis' beautiful face lighted up enthusiastically. " An actress, maybe ? " she said. For a moment the natural whiteness of the stranger's face seemed ghastly. " I am not an actress," she responded, quietly. " Although I have been called so." " I should have taken you for something of that sort," in- sisted Phyllis. "I am nothing of that sort." Again the stranger's eyes sought the darkness, as if seeking rest there. " I have been a musician." There was silence. Even Phyllis, curious as she was concern- ing this enigmatical being, could see that she did not care to converse with her. The stranger roused herself at last. " I beg your pardon," she said, apologetically. " But I am apt to lose a thread of speech in the labyrinth of my thoughts. You were saying ? " "Nothing," returned Phyllis. "But you said that you had 14 GOING "HOME." been a musician. And I you will pardon me for my frankness ? Surely you can not have been a musician without being one now." " I have given it up." "Because it does not pay?" " What a sordid question for one so young in years ! " said the stranger, evasively. " A sordid question ! " and Phyllis' lips tightened. " Sordid ? " she repeated. " If you knew or do you know ? how fate schools orphaned children who are heirs to naught but healthy mother- wit, so that they may find a way in the world, and finding, scheme to fill it and to hold it. I am young in years I am young of face but my heart is old. My feelings will never run away with me, for my brain is the dominant power. Believe me, I shall manage exceedingly well. If you do not care to tell me about your music," she went on, her manner changing abruptly, "do not do so. I am interested, really, but that doesn't matter." " Oh ! " said the stranger. There was an expression akin to pity on her face as she looked straight into the young girl's eyes. "I have played since my babyhood, almost. With my only brother. We traveled all over the world together. He has been dead a year. ... I have not appeared in public since." " You must surely love it." "Unspeakably. But my brother He was my twin soul. . . . Since he went away I love it, but it saddens me. The joy of it is not for me. The joy of it tells me I am alone ! " Phyllis was silent. The words, dreamy, incoherent, broken, were not meant for her ears. They were forced through the sem- blance of outward calm by powerful emotion. " I gave up the best part of me," said the stranger. " But ii is my will." GOING "HOME," 15 " Our characters are somewhat alike, then," said Phyllis, more to break in upon the painful thoughts that she could see were beginning to absorb her companion. " But what in all the world will such a woman as you do at Segrovia ? " " Learn to work." " Learn to work ! " Phyllis brought her hands together. " You travel from Italy you, a musician and a clever woman to Segro- via to learn to work ! Why not remain in the city, the great, big, wide, beautiful city where you will have a chance to attain some position " There was a sudden grinding of the wheels a sudden stop- page of motion that sent a shock through the cars, and almost threw Phyllis from her seat. The words died on her lips. She clutched at the framework of the window, and her face grew pale. The stranger's features did not change their expression. She still looked at Phyllis inquiringly. " There is something the matter," said Phyllis. "Perhaps not. This is a bad time of the year to travel in these mountainous districts." There were voices of men along the tracks, and lanterns swing- ing rapidly from side to side. This went on for about ten minutes. The few passengers who occupied the other end of the car glanced up sleepily, and dozed off again. The red-faced guail came through. Phyllis hailed him. " This is not Segrovia ? " she called. " No, miss," he said. He lingered beside them. " What is it ? " asked the stranger, very quietly. " Snow- bound? Derailed? Some impediment on the tracks?" He looked at her, surprised at the quiet voice. " Owing to the snow the engineer was going easy it's but a 16 GOING "HOME." crawl up-hill from this to Segrovia," said the man. "He saw the boulder just in time. A massive thing over half a ton. It must have been an avalanche brought that down the embankment. If we were thrown off the track here it would have been a clear fall to the ravine." " Very far below ? " asked the stranger. The guard shrugged his shoulders. " Two hundred feet at least." " A narrow escape. Thank God," said the girl, involuntarily. " Will we be detained long ? " " An hour at least." " That means two hours," said Phyllis, petulantly. " We won't get to Segrovia until long after dark." The stout conductor looked at her in surprise then walked away toward the other occupants of the car. " That is a bad habit," said the stranger. "What?" asked Phyllis. " Grumbling at trifles. How long do you think you would have been detained had we gone over into the ravine ? " Phyllis shuddered. " I did not think of that. It is a shame. I can't for the life of me see why railroad companies don't guard their tracks " " Oh, hush," said the stranger, contemptuously. " Say a prayer of thankfulness that God has preserved your life. Or at least be silent until I say one." Phyllis did not resent the tone it made her ashamed, rather. Presently, when the stranger turned her face upon her again, she met the penitent blue eyes more kindly. "Let us go outside it is not cold, and we have been sitting still so long." GOING "SOME." IT "Yes," said Phyllis. " I shall be glad to." They found the conductor passing. He helped them to the ground and advised them not to walk very far, as they did not know that section of the country and it was late for two women to venture anywhere. The stranger did not reply, but Phyllis, grown meek, thanked him. " There is a house on the top of that hill," said the stranger, suddenly. She spoke in a louder tone, and addressed the man. " It is not far do you think we might venture that ? " The man turned to look. " Oh, yes," he said. " You can make that in five minutes." " Why do you want to go there ? " asked Phyllis. " Because I can not even walk aimlessly," was the reply. " I must have an objective point. My intention now is to go to that house on the hill, the house with the light in the window. Then I shall have the train to reach from there. You still care to come?" "Anywhere," said Phyllis. Then she smiled, her natural, careless mood restored. " Though I would not want to take a five minutes' walk so seriously as you." 18 THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. "I HAVE read somewhere of the valley of the shadow," said Phyllis, suddenly. " This is all shadow I wonder if the light of the moon ever reaches here?" "It does, it must," said her companion. "If we could but wait to see it when the glory of the moonlight fills it ! But we shall be far away then." " And to us it will only be the valley of the shadow/' said Phyllis. The youth seemed to have left her face it was cold; one could hardly read the expression of the clear blue eyes, the tightly-closed lips. The stranger did not care just then to be observant. Their feet crunched on the frozen path, and with the swift steps of perfect health and youth and strength they swung along under the stripped branches of the trees, swaying slowly with their ghostly arms in the still, cold air. The path was well-defined for the snow that covered it stretched white and crystallized before them. " We shall soon reach our objective point," said Phyllis, with a laugh. " It is coming nearer. But we have walked more than five minutes." " About eight it will be ten by the time we reach it and it will take ten to go back. What a peculiar light that is shining from the window. Perhaps " " I should love to see who could occupy such a lonely dwelling- house," said Phyllis, eagerly. " I am going to ring." THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. 19 " And when they open " "I shall ask for a drink of water. Here we are will you come with me ? " She could find no bell, but discovered a big knocker, and struck it several times. There was no answer. "Yet some one lives here," said Phyllis, in a vexed tone. " There surely must be some one. Wait I'll find a chink in the curtain." Half-smiling, the stranger followed the girl to where the light streamed out across the road down into the valley like a star. Phyllis, peeping through the window, brought her hands together with a little exclamation of triumph. " Look, look ! " she said. " Isn't that a wonderful sight ? " A man was sitting at a table in the center of the room. His book lay open before him he had evidently fallen asleep while reading it. He was in evening attire, and the lamp, shaded by a green globe, giving the peculiar effect of light the stranger had noticed, rested in such a position that its rays fell on a handsome, fair face the face of a gentleman. " A treasure-trove in the wilderness ! " cried Phyllis, delighted beyond measure. "Who ever, ever, ever could think of finding this in the house on the hill ? " Smiling at her childish excitement, the dark-eyed stranger bent to look. The next moment she seized Phyllis' arm in a grip of iron. " Come," she said, and her voice shook. " In the name of God, girl, come away." What" "Nothing, nothing, nothing," said the stranger. "Hush, hush not a breath. He will hear you, and sooner The house 30 THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. on the hill, the house on the hill ! Oh, what brought me here- what evil fate tempted me to come this way ! " Bewildered, dazed, almost frightened, Phyllis allowed herself to be dragged by that stranger-hand out into the road again and down once more into the snow-encrusted valley. Excitement seemed to lend wings to the other's feet. Phyllis caught her breath. " I can not walk so quickly," she said, at last. " Poor little thing ! " The stranger moderated her steps im- mediately. "I had forgotten you." Her brows were curved, her eyes shining with a strange light. Phyllis was afraid of her afraid of the silence and the mystery. " I would not want to live here this is so lonely, so quiet. I could not stand being alone," she said, after a moment. "I wish I had not called this the valley of the shadow it seems like a foreboding." " I mounted it to my Calvary," said the stranger, in a bitter tone. " I put away my cross and lo ! my cross has come to me. Oh, child, if it is true that death only comes with terror to those who travel the paths of life easily but to those who must strive ever on that steep hill, he comes like a gentle angel to touch the brow with happiness ! Come to me ! " She threw her arms out suddenly and stood still. " God, if it is Thy will, let the death angel come now come soon." The passion in the low voice startled Phyllis. They were almost at the train and as if impelled by an involuntary move- ment, both turned to look up at the house with its light shining out on the path beyond. And then the stranger spoke, more quietly. " God's will be done." THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. 31 The guard came up to them. " We start immediately, ladies," he said. " Everything is all right, now/' Neither answered both were thinking too deeply. Once more Phyllis felt her arm clutched in that tight grasp, and then, fol- lowing her companion's glance, she saw that the light had been extinguished. The next moment they were back in the train, and the wheels began to move; very slowly at first then with in- creasing speed. Phyllis gazed curiously at her companion. The quiet of the white face seemed undisturbed but there were black shadows under the eyes, that had not been present when they left the car twenty minutes before. * * * * * They had not exchanged a word for a full half -hour. Gradu- ally the stranger recovered her calmness of demeanor. Phyllis, feeling that she had been on the verge of a mystery, and inwardly consumed with curiosity, still did not dare to venture a question. The other must speak, some time, and she would take the cue from her. The other did speak. She turned to her, smiling naturally. " When we were interrupted by the delay/' she said, " you mentioned New York. The great, big, wide, beautiful city of New York where one has a chance to attain position " Phyllis stared at her, open-mouthed. " How can you remember ? " she asked. " I have a splendid memory." "Yes/' said Phyllis, slowly. She waited a few moments, looking at the stranger with critical eyes. " You said, I believe, that you were going to Segrovia to learn to work ? " And then in a tone of utter contempt, " Work ! " 22 THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. " Why not ? " asked the stranger. " I am not seeking posi- tion. At Segrovia live my father's two sisters my only living relatives. I never needed them before." " And you need them now ? " asked Phyllis, incredulously. " No." " My brother was everything to me father, brother, mother, confidant, friend I can not stay out in the world without him. It is too full of bitter experiences." " I know," said Phyllis, and her tone was very soft, and her blue eyes dim with tears. " It is full of bitter experiences." Her voice touched a chord of sympathy. "I must have something to hold on to," continued the stranger, in the dreamy tone that struck so pleasantly on Phyllis' listening ears. " I want to feel that I belong to some one and that some one belongs to me. I am only a lonely woman on a lonely earth, and I can not bear it. It was a wicked atmosphere that into which my art would have led me. My pride bade me brave it, dare it, but my soul was sick. I could not stand the society of those who listened to me to-day with simulated rapture, and to-morrow slandered me, with cruel, cruel tongues. But what can a child like you know of such meanness and such malice ? " " What do I know ? " echoed Phyllis, with a discordant laugh. " Much. You seek your relatives to avoid meanness and malice ? My relatives bestow both upon me in plenty. Your art has been all in all to you. I have had no art but the study of human nature to fit my purpose in life. Perhaps at Segrovia I shall have a chance to prove it to you ! " Tears were standing in her eyee. " We are acquainted, now," said the stranger, gently. " And, since our destination is the same, likely to know more of each other. What is your name?" THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. 83 "Phyllis Gordon." " Gordon ? There is a Mrs. Edward Gordon in New York " " My Aunt Isabel yes." "Your aunt? Is that so? I have met Mrs. Gordon on one or two occasions." Her face darkened. " My name is Xaviera Pomeroy." " Xaviera what a queer given name ! I have never heard it before." " My father was Francis Xavier I am called after him as near as he could get to it in the feminine, I suppose. li; is an odd name." " It suits you," said Phyllis, gently. " And it is very pretty. But it has such a Catholic sound." " Oh ! " said Xaviera Pomeroy, proudly. " Before everything else I am a Catholic." Phyllis gazed at her curiously. " Eeally ? I have never known any Catholics that I can re- member. You intend to stay at Segrovia ? " The dark girl shrugged her shoulders. "I am sent to stay for one year, in banishment. I intend, however, to make that banishment as gay as possible," said Phyllis. " May I count on you to help me ? " " We shall meet, I daresay," said Miss Pomeroy, in an evasive tone. " Perhaps it would interest you to hear why I am sent away ? " " It certainly would. I am much interested." " You are kind. My aunt, Mrs. Gordon, brought me up she is my Uncle Edward's wife. I am poor, poor as a church mouse. I have nothing and I was educated with my two cousins, Lilian and Sylvia, You know them, perhaps? They are a trifle older 24 THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. than I and not quite as pretty." She smiled maliciously. Xaviera Pomeroy suddenly remembered the Gordon girls who were decidedly unattractive. And worse. They were more de- cidedly ill-natured. She felt sorry for Phyllis. " Aunt Isabel could not take my gifts away from me, nor my pretty face, nor my grace. After a while I found place in so- ciety." "And then?" " Then began my term of misery. I never did anything right, I was too modest, or I was too bold. I talked too much, or I talked too little. When a man wished to marry me I could not make myself wish to marry him. That was my crowning sin. But not even to escape Aunt Isabel's tyranny could I marry the objects presented for my approval. Ugh ! " and the girl shud- dered. Xaviera smiled. " There was, perhaps, a favored gallant ? " she asked. The least little tinge of pink crept across Phyllis' round face. "Maybe but he is like the rest. A maiden may be fair, but " What care I how fair she be, If her purse is not lined with gold for mef paraphrased the red lips, scornfully. " Things became desperate after a while. That's why you find me here. Aunt Isabel cor- responded with this other aunt, her sister-in-law, after whom I am named my name is Mary Felicitas. This is the consequence. Banished from all that makes life desirable for one whole year ! Think of that." The girl's eyes flashed. " She wears corkscrew curls I've seen her picture. And glasses! And she looks like an old maid ! And she hates singing. She detests music. She THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. 36 can not bear curly hair like mine. Because it's natural, I sup- pose. And what is worse " " What is worse" " There is some sort of a wretched practitioner located at Segrovia first for his health and now for the practice he has built up in that and surrounding towns this last ten years. Think of it. And he's to be mine Aunt Mary says so. Think of it!" " But how did you find out all this ? " " Umph ! Aunt Isabel was none too careful and that corre- spondence beyond all the scruples of politest society " Xaviera shook her head disapprovingly. " You read the letters ? What in the world prompted you to come ? " " Oh, I don't know," said Phyllis Gordon, and her lips quivered. " I was tired of Aunt Isabel, tired of the perpetual nagging. It was awful to have to bear with all she had to say to me to feel that she begrudged me every bit I ate. Uncle Edward was good enough but he was afraid of Aunt Isabel poor man." Xaviera extended one of the beautiful hands that Phyllis had so much admired, and clasped the girl's fluttering fingers. The pressure was warm, strong, encouraging. It was the hand and the handclasp of a woman who could make a wonderful friend. " You are upset and nervous," she said. " Try to look on the bright side of things. There is something wrong with your education, somewhere." " Shall I kneel to them ? Shall I praise and toady and hem and haw and feign politeness and meekness when I am neither meek nor polite? Look at it yourself with my eyes! Sending 26 THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. me out here literally burying me alive ! Look at me ! M She threw her lovely head in air; excitement had brought the blood to her young cheeks, and her eyes were like gleaming stars. Xaviera caught her breath. "You are a beautiful, beautiful girl, Miss Phyllis Gordon," ehe said. " A very beautiful girl. What are you going to do with that beauty of yours ? " " Marry a rich man," said Phyllis, promptly. The answer, if natural, was somewhat disconcerting. " Oh I see you are a wise girl, also," said Xaviera, after a pause. " Very wise as well as very beautiful, Miss Phyllis. Will you listen to me? If you fret against the bond for your year at Segrovia you are going to dim that beauty of yours. You are going to worry little lines under your beautiful big blue eyes, and your pretty mouth is going to droop at the corners. Fine wrinkles will creep about that delicate little nose of yours." " What do you mean ? " " I mean that you should make the best of it. Fill your days with something useful." " You mean that I should work ? " " Work, if it comes to that. Yes." " Oh, but I am a Gordon." " Then to be a Gordon means that it is also a necessity to live on the pittance doled out by unwilling relatives ? " Phyllis shivered. "Work! It lowers one so! I should lose status in society! No one worth while would bother with me then." Across Xaviera's face there crept an expression of contempt. " Supposing such things have happened even to girls as beautiful supposing you never marry ? " THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. 27 " I shall marry," said Phyllis, confidently. " And what part does love play in the program ? " " Very little, I must confess." " What a dreadful future ! " " You are too serious too sentimental." " Child, you are so young. I wish I could know you for a little while I would like to try to change these awful ideas." " Awful ? I would not marry a poor man, no matter how much I loved him." Xaviera looked at her thoughtfully. " You seek I shun society. Yet even to you who run aftei it, it has not been true." " I can not live without it." Xaviera said no more. Unconscious of the concentration of her gaze she stared into the young face. The train slackened speed the guard, throwing wide the door, called out : " Segrovia." Both girls were unprepared for the announcement. They picked up their hats from the space beside them, and Phyllis sprang to lift down Xaviera's bag. " It is so late," said Phyllis. " It must surely be nine o'clock. Are you expected ? " " No," said Xaviera. " I am I suppose I shall have to listen to a lecture because the train was delayed. Will you shake hands with me ? " The girl's delicate hands had fascinated her, their touch seemed to give her a certain strength. Xaviera clasped her fingers closely. " We shall meet again," she said, gently. " Be a good little girl." 28 THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. She turned and walked away from her not because she did not want to see the meeting between Phyllis and the tall, thin woman rapidly approaching them, but because she wanted more than anything else to be alone. Phyllis, waiting, realized with dismay that her picture of Aunt Mary had not been overdrawn. She was very thin, indeed, and her sharp, pinched features gave her an acrid appearance. The incongruity of the two long curls that dangled, one on each side of her face, was not lost on Phyllis. "Miss Gordon?" Phyllis bowed a bow so deep and so full of reverence that it was mockery. " Stand still/' said Mrs. Browne, commandingly, with the air of a martinet. The girl obeyed. "Look at me!" Phyllis raised those dancing eyes to her face, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, despite her efforts to be grave. " Yes you are like my brother. Very childish, indeed. You have baggage ? Burton, take Miss Gordon's bag." A really smart-looking groom came forward. Phyllis sur- rendered the bag, wondering if her father had been childish. She did not speak again until they were started on the way home. " What detained those wretched cars ? " asked Aunt Mary. "I shall have an attack of rheumatism from that cold station. I know it. I can feel it in my bones." " Rocks on the track," said Phyllis, briefly. She wondered if she would learn to bite off the ends of her words like that be- fore the year passed. "We were kept back an hour. If the engineer had not been fortunate we would all have been killed." THE HOUSE ON THE HILL. 20 " Killed ? Umph ! They'd say so, anyhow. Always do exag- gerate those fellows. Where was it ? " " I don't know somewhere around a ravine " " Bayard's Gulf, I suppose. Well, that is a dangerous place. Did you see the rocks ? " "No," said Phyllis, wearily. Both were silent. Not a sound could be heard through the night but the sharp beat of the horses' hoofs upon the snow. " We are very plain people in Segrovia," said Aunt Mary, at last. "I hope you will be comfortable. It may come hard at first to do without the Edward Gordon luxury." She spoke with a fine contempt. Phyllis made no answer. "It is, after all, a healthy existence," continued Aunt Mary. " You may not think so right away and yet you will find plenty to amuse you " " In the country in November ? " interposed Phyllis, quickly, with contempt as fine as her own. " Even in November. All beauty does not vanish with the summer." She gave her a keen glance. " And, barring just a few restrictions, you can do exactly as you please." " That is good," said Phyllis and as an afterthought, " Are we nearly to the house? I am tired." 80 * FOH HIS SAKE. CHAPTER III. FOB HIB SAKE. IF Xaviera Pomeroy had seemed calm enongh and self-pos- sessed enough to talk of Phyllis Gordon's affairs, it was not be- cause she was really interested in them, but because her mind was in so confused a state that she felt she must occupy it with some trivial matter and to her, just then, Phyllis Gordon was a very trivial matter indeed! Simply an outlet, a diversion. She was not afraid of the thick darkness of the farther roads since all about her was the brightness of white snow, and the calm light of the moon. She was glad to be alone. And what were her first words : " The house on the hill 1 The house on the hill ! " she mur- mured, brokenly. "I went through the valley of the shadow to take up my cross again. I do not ask Thee to remove it," she said, raising her face to the brilliant sky. " But take this fear of it away from me, since I would only strive to do Thy will. I am but a weak woman, Lord. Let me not depend upon my strength alone." For a long time, pursuing this bitter train of thought, she went on her way, careless of the fact that she knew not where she was going, that she was utterly unacquainted with the way the path led. To her, just then, one direction would have been as good as another, for she had come unheralded and unan- nounced to people who were, at heart, strangers to her, for all the ties of blood that bound them. Nevertheless, she had re- FOR HIS SAKE. 81 solved to seek them yes, to make her home with them, to learn to love them, and to compel their love, if that were possible. And Xaviera Pomeroy had found few things impossible in all her brave life heretofore. A sudden shiver passed over her. It seemed to her it was growing colder surely that breeze tugging at her coat was stronger than when she first started out ! She gazed up at the sky apprehensively a few fine little clouds were drifting across the moon's face yes, the wind was certainly stronger, and colder and keener. It was so late, also, and to ask questions at this hour ! Xaviera was aware with what rapidity news spreads in a little town, and she would seek her aunts as quietly as possible. She passed one or two houses they were gloomy and colorless; no sign of life visible except the barking of the dogs in the porches and yards. The village proper lay farther on. She looked at her watch. Nine o'clock ! Surely that was not so late, even for Segrovia. A sudden flame seemed to light up the distance in front of her and she who had complained truly a few moments before that she could not walk even five minutes without some objective point, grasped her bag more firmly, and set out for the steady light. Her uprightness, the swing of the lithe, slim body, showed perfect health and command of muscle. As she approached she saw that the flame came from a blacksmith's shop and that the smith himself was evidently at work, for the sound of heavy, ringing blows was borne to her ears. She would inquire here. As she turned into the path, the wind, which had increased in violence, almost threw her from her feet. She paused to steady herself. A gentleman in riding costume was standing just inside waiting for the man to finish shoeing his horse, evidently. Xaviera 32 FOR HIS SAKE. shrank back almost in affright, her hand clasping her heart. Then she saw that the interested face turned toward her was that of a stranger. The cold look of displeasure that had crept into her eyes when she first discovered Phyllis Gordon was her chief ex- pression now. She turned away quickly. She would not put any questions before this man. He seemed to remind her that the civilization she hated could not be utterly banished from her life. "I beg your pardon," he said, as he noticed that sudden movement of aversion. He came hurriedly outside the shop. " You wished " " Nothing, I thank you," she responded. Then, conscious of her rudeness, " Or perhaps you could inform me how to reach the main street of the village ? " " Why, yes at the top of this road there is a little bridge. Cross it, and turn to your right. The road is not so hilly once the bridge is crossed." He spoke pleasantly, courteously. Xaviera bowed her head and turned out into the path again. " Shall I go to a hotel surely Segrovia boasts of a hotel ? Or shall I hunt up my aunts at once ? " she mused. She did not know that the gentleman was standing where she had left him, staring intently after her. " Do they possess my father's heart or are they miserable and narrow as are the rest of the world? They may be dead. Dead! But they must have left children. Aunt Winifred was fourteen years younger than Aunt Magdalen she must be alive, surely. Ah, my brother, what day-dreams ours were! The fortune we meant to accumulate, and the home we meant to make for our people, whom we loved because they were fathers sisters. And now! Unknown, un- FOR HIS BAKE. 3ft fought, unwelcome, unhappy, I come here. How shall I leave it ? Ah, my brother, what is my future without you ? " She had reached the little bridge, had crossed it, and turned to the right. She was too perturbed to notice the loneliness of the path she was to take. It was probably a side lane leading into the busier thoroughfare of the town. Only one house, little, low, single-storied, stood set near the edge of the road. Xaviera's brows were drawn together. Once more her mind wandered in one of those painful fits of abstraction that had afflicted her so often of late. A sudden weakness crept into her limbs. Her footsteps fal- tered. The constriction of her throat seemed to forebode teari. Tears! The very thought frightened her. " I will not weep," she said, aloud. " I will not weep." She threw her head back defiantly, her brows curving. " No, I will not," she said. " I have no time for tears. This is the time to be practical to forget this absurd heartsickness that weighs me down. I must conquer myself. I have come to Segrovia to conquer myself. And I shall succeed." The futility of her efforts to find those she sought without inquiry, the impracticability of going further without positive knowledge, struck her with force. She must seek shelter some- where anywhere for the night at least. She must put a stop to these sorrowful thoughts that threatened to engulf her. And so, straightening her shoulders, wil;h sudden resolution, she knocked sharply at the door of the gloomy cottage. Again and again she rapped. Her efforts were rewarded. She heard slow steps coming along the hall, and then a woman's face peered out at her. " Who is it ? " she asked in a trembling tone. " What do you want?" 84 FOR HIB SAKE. " A moment's rest/* said Xaviera, " and the answer to a few questions." At the sound of her voice the woman, who was very old, flung the door wide. " A stranger and at this hour ! " she exclaimed. " Come in, child. You are ill your face is pale, your lips are white. Can I help you?" There was a strange eagerness in her countenance. "I am poor," she continued. "But my rooms are warm and there is a chair if you would rest yourself " Xaviera could not understand why she looked at her so fix- edly. It was the face of a woman who had suffered much the deep lines on the forehead and around the mouth spoke of that. But the patient resignation, the humility that shone from the faded blue eyes won the girl's heart. " I would like to accept your invitation but I am afraid it is so late now that I can not delay very much longer. Tell me, have you lived here any length of time ? " " Almost all my life," said the old woman. " Ah ! You may have heard, then, of the Pomeroys ? Wini- fred and Magdalen Pomeroy ? " The woman trembled a little. She did not answer imme- diately, and Xaviera looked at her in anxious suspense. " Heard ? Of the Pomeroys ? Indeed, yes, my child. I know them well." Xaviera bent forward eagerly. "Know them? They are alive then still? They are well? They are married ? " " They are not married they are the dressmakers of the vil- lage. Their house is about a half-mile farther on. They live FOR HIS SAKE. 35 right across from the main street. But you are surely not going to them at this hour ? They will have retired long since/' Xaviera's lips moved silently. The words meant peace to her. Her father's own sisters! Alive! Well! And she was here to stay with them to love them. . . . " I thank you," she said, putting out her hand and clasping the old woman's wrinkled fingers. " I thank you, thank you, thank you. They are the ones for whom I am in search and I knew not where nor whom to ask " " You will go to the Pomeroys ? " asked the old lady, in sur- prise. " You are a relative, maybe ? " " You may have heard of Francis Pomeroy ? " asked Xaviera, gently. This old, old woman, this dear old woman, must have known her father, too. Perhaps remembered him from that time when he had been a child could tell her of him! Her heart warmed what a dear, patient, good old woman she seemed ! " And you ? " asked the other, breathlessly now. Her face was pallid. " And you, and you young stranger ? Who may you be?" " His only living child Xaviera Pomeroy. My brother died one year ago." A little sigh passed the old woman's lips. She grasped at the framework of the door, and held to it, and her body fell against it. Xaviera looked at her anxiously. " I knew it," said the old lady, her white lips barely framing the words. " I knew it, knew it, knew it, when I saw your face. I knew it when you spoke to me. I knew it when you looked at me." Shaking as with a chill she stood, and Xaviera, putting forth 86 FOR HIS 8A.EE. both strong young arms, held her in an embrace meant to strengthen her failing limbs. " Your mother I " whispered the woman. " Your mother, my ehild?" " I never knew my mother/' said Xaviera, tenderly, such plead- ing was in the poor old face. " She died soon after I was born. It is not possible that you knew my mother, too ? " " I knew your father well," said the woman, tremblingly. " I knew him and I loved him. Child, if you knew what joy it is to me to feel the arms of Frank Pomeroy's daughter about me. But take them away. Your aunts, if they knew, would not like it" " My aunts ! " said the girl. " Tell me about them. Oh, I do not trust strangers for strangers have used me cruelly, cruelly. But I trust you. Tell me of my aunts." " Let me tell you of your father, rather," said the old woman, wistfully. " And after him of Magdalen Pomeroy, and Winifred. Look my house is humble, poor, straitened but it is overlate for you to seek shelter elsewhere to-night. I have not had much happiness these last years of my life will you believe me when I tell you that it will make me very happy to have you spend one night under my roof ? Will you gladden my heart just for this one night? gladden it because Frank's child would not disdain its shelter?" And then Xaviera Pomeroy did a most strange thing. She bent her stately head and kissed the old woman on the lips. " I shall stay and thank you for permitting me to," she said. " For I can tell by your very voice that you loved him and I know that you will love me for his sake." BIB SISTER MA.ODALEN. 87 CHAPTER IV. HIS SISTER MAGDALEN. THEY talked far into the night. The old lady, whose name was Thornton, told Xaviera many tales of that distant past with which her father was connected. She did not seem to know much of his marriage she could tell her very little on this subject, and she was constrained and silent when the girl spoke of Magdalen Pomeroy. When morning came, and it was time for her to set out for the cottage, Mrs. Thornton could scarcely bear to part with her. " You will return ? Promise me you will return ? " she said. " You will not find it hard now to reach them." She gave her ex- plicit directions and then added with that strange thrill in her voice, " I can not bear to let you go. You will come back again you will not leave without seeing me if it is only just once more ? " " I am not going away from Segrovia," said the girl. " I shall stay here now that I have come." "God grant it," said Mrs. Thornton. The tears that had been welling to her eyes fell upon her clasped fingers as she watched the girl who stood when she reached the top of the road to wave her hand back at her in farewell. " She looks so good, so honest it seems as if she really knew what her life pur- pose was to be. Frank, Frank, how is it that your child comes from the great world like a bird thrown from its nest here, the place you disliked above all others? Did you, too, discover that the world was but a delusion and a snare after you found your 88 HIS SISTER MAGDALEN. way outside ? Do you know that she is here ? And she has come for what ? To make atonement ? God grant it, Frank, God grant It I" Xaviera, meanwhile, soon found herself standing before the two-storied white house Mrs. Thornton had described to her. She had not left very early, for she had wished to give her aunts a chance to start the day before she surprised them. A few mo- ments she waited, looking at the sign on the door a black sign, with an inscription in white letters : THE MISSES POMEROY. DRESSMAKERS. A smile curved the girl's lips. She had come to Segrovia to " learn to work." The bodily weariness of the night before had left her even the great and bewildering shock occasioned by what- ever vision she had seen in the " house on the hill " had worn away. With the cold, clear sunlight of a new day enveloping her, she felt strong for any fate. She could dare the future more coura- geously. And she was glad now that she had not come to them as she had been last night heartsick and footsore and despondent. So Xaviera stood, staring at the sign. She was to cast her lot with the village dressmakers. Not a misgiving crossed that great mind of hers as to her ability to make her lot a peaceful, contented one. " Nay of all the crumbs that fall from Thy table, Lord," she breathed. " Give me content. Possessing that, I am rich, indeed and Lord, Thou knowest how long I have lacked it, and lacking it, despite the riches the world gave me, how poor, how poor, how poor!" HIS SISTER MAGDALEN. 39 Her eyes fell suddenly on the lowest of the immaculately white steps that led up to the door. Then she knew that she had been looking, without seeing him, at a little boy a little child surely not more than five years old. He was poorly dressed and his feet were encased in broken shoes away too large for him. He was blowing lustily on his little hands, which were blue with the cold. " You will get sick if you stay out here," said Xaviera, gently. " Why don't you go inside, you foolish little fellow ? " He looked at her shyly with his gray eyes so shyly that Xaviera barely refrained from picking him up in her arms and carrying him in with her whether he would or no. The door opened just then, and a girl came out as poorly clad as the boy, with a thin, peaked face, and unkempt hair adding to the elfish look in- duced by cold and hunger. She had a paper parcel which she held very carefully, and she came down the steps, lowering her eyes when she met Xaviera's curious glance. The little boy grabbed at her skirt as she approached him. " Why don't you send him inside ? " asked Xaviera then. " It is too cold for either one of you to be out. Your clothes are very poor for such a bleak day as this." "Danny can't come in," said the girl, shrinking. "Miss Winnie scolds me, sometimes, if she sees him but Danny always follows me. I tell him and tell him to stay at home but he just won't." " And where isn't this your home ? " asked Xaviera. The girl's eyes opened very wide. " This ? Oh, no, ma'am. This is Miss Pomeroy's. I only run errands sometimes for Miss Pomeroy. And Danny follows 40 #LS 8I8TER MAGDALEN. "Haven't you a mother?" asked Xaviera, her heart aching as she noted the poverty-stricken appearance of the two children. "No, ma'am." Then she added, quickly. "Danny has me, though/' " Do you know how to buy things for Danny ? " asked Xaviera, " If I give you some money to buy thick stockings for you and Danny, and Let me see your feet. Yes, I guess you need a new pair of shoes, too. And after that take what is left and get some- thing to eat, and don't go out again to-day. And if you come to see me soon I shall go with you to your house and see what I can do for you." What better way than to start her new life with an act of charity? Xaviera's heart, touched as it was, grew tender when she saw the look of delight that flashed across the child's face. " If they ask you who gave you the money, or question you," said Xaviera, " tell them to come to Miss Pomeroy." The girl's eyes were sparkling she looked at the money in the extended hand, incredulously. Then she gazed once more into Xaviera's face. Seeing that it was really intended for her she grasped it hurriedly. " Oh ! " she said. " Thank you you are good. You are so good. You are " " Never mind," said Xaviera. " Come to see me to-morrow, and then you can tell me who you are, dear. But first, what is your name ? " " Elizabeth Bernard." "Good-by, Elizabeth." She knocked at the door two or three times. Receiving no answer she turned the knob, and found herself in a narrow hall. Not knowing what else to do, Xaviera entered. A door at the BIS SISTER MAGDALEN. 41 right evidently led into another room, and there was a closed door at the end of the hall. She hardly knew which one to try first but noticing that the one nearest her was slightly ajar, she knocked gently and went in. A little woman, rather stout, and with a round, pleasant, somewhat weak face, was bending over a machine, sewing on some black stuff. Seeing Xaviera, she im- mediately ceased her work, and rose to her feet. " You will pardon me for entering in this way," said Xaviera, in her sweet voice. All the coldness of her exterior had disap- peared as if by magic. She forgot all, everything, save that here were her father's sisters, who were to love her, and whom she was to love. "I knocked at the outside door several times but I received no answer." " It is always open/' said the little woman. Xaviera, stand- ing, saw that she herself was head and shoulders over her. " Every one about here knows that, so they just walk in. My sister and I are always so busy we have no time to keep the latch on. But perhaps I can serve you ? " She glanced at the qniet elegance of the slender figure. " You wish " "You are Miss Pomeroy?" asked Xaviera and there was a curious tremble in her voice. " Miss Winifred ? " " Yes," said the little woman. " I am Xaviera Pomeroy your brother Frank's only daughter." There was dead silence. The woman seemed suddenly frozen. She clutched at the machine, and after that stood staring, her face growing white. Fear struck at Xaviera's heart. Why was it people looked at her so strangely? What effect had her name on these simple folk that it created fear rathe* than astonishment- and never welcome? 48 HIS SISTER MAGDALEN. " You are my Aunt Winifred ? " she said, gently. " Surely you know of me ? " "Xaviera Pomeroy yes, I know of you," said the little woman, tremulously. She glanced nervously toward the inner room. " Won't you sit down ? " But Xaviera did not hear her. " I came to find you/' she said in a low voice. " Frank is dead he died a year ago. And my father You knew that I am alone." " And why What brought you to Segrovia ? " "I did not expect to find you living I wanted to see his home " "What is it?" called a sharp voice from the inner room. "Who is out there, Winifred?" " Come, and see, Magdalen," was the answer, in a strange tone. " Come, and see." Xaviera turned an expectant face toward the door, in which at that moment the tall figure of a woman appeared as tall a woman as was Xaviera herself. They stood, gazing one at the other. From the mass of gray-black hair to the dark eyes, in which strange lights burned, the set lips, the whole carriage of the body all, every bit of her, was Xaviera Pomeroy. And the woman looked upon the girl as she might upon her lost youth. In- credulity, anger, passion who could read the complexity of emotions that succeeded one another over her clearly-chiseled features? It was a noble old age straight and undimmed and masterful for all the years. Time had not conquered the proud head, or touched to stooping the squarely-set shoulders. Xaviera had not expected her Aunt Magdalen to look like this. As for the older woman, she advanced very slowly toward the girl until she HIS SISTER MAGDALEN. 43 stood close to her. Their eyes were on a level only that Xaviera's were young eyes and nobler eyes. No fire of resentment stirred their depths. No years of animosity had made the lines about them cruel. No unforgiving spirit looked from behind the long black lashes. And in Magdalen Pomeroy's were all these: ani- mosity, cruelty, unforgiveness. But Xaviera held her own. " Frank ! " whispered the woman. " Frank ! " That was all. Suddenly then, the fierce light left her face, and she began to sob in a dry, tearless fashion that was awful to hear. Much frightened, Winifred Pomeroy went to her sister, and put her arms about her. " It would have been better had you prepared us," she said. "It is not well to do such a thing as this we are both old and can not stand very much. Why did you not write ? " " I could not," said Xaviera, sick at heart at this strange re- ception. " I could not. I did not know whether you were dead or living. My brother wrote you " " Your brother ! An actor as your father was as you are ! Why should we answer his letter? Who was he, or what was he to us " It was Aunt Magdalen who spoke. " What have we simple, honest folk to do with the like of you and yours ? " A deeper crimson suffused the girl's pale face. "You have brought your mother with you, perhaps?" went on Aunt Magdalen, shaking as with an ague with very passion. " She, too, is smitten with overwhelming desire to see the home of her husband ? " " My mother ? " asked Xaviera. This was too much her lips trembled. " My mother is dead. I have never seen my mother."