O"
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 BY 
 
 ELEANOR TALBOT KINKEAD 
 
 NEW YORK 
 MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY 
 
 1906
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. ROGER BOLLING 1 
 
 II. MARIAN DAY 11 
 
 III. MRS. BOLLJNG IS ALARMED 29 
 
 IV. THE COTILLION 53 
 
 V. HEARTS ABEYANT 67 
 
 VI. GOOD-BY 80 
 
 VII. MARIAN'S SECRET 95 
 
 VIII. CIRCE 120 
 
 IX. THE AWAKENING 145 
 
 X. JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 158 
 
 XI. COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 176 
 
 XII. IN THE SHADOW 197 
 
 XIII. THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 209 
 
 XIV. THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 226 
 
 XV. FOR His OATH'S SAKE 241 
 
 PART II 
 
 I. RED ROSES 257 
 
 II. THE LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 267 
 
 III. A DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 285 
 
 IV. THE FLIGHT 314 
 
 V. A LETTER 333 
 
 VI. THE UNEXPECTED 347 
 
 VII. IN WHICH ROGER COMES INTO His OWN . . . 362 
 
 VIII. SIBYL 369 
 
 IX. THE INVISIBLE BOND 381 
 
 X. THE FATE OF FRANCIS WALLER 395 
 
 XI. IN WHICH Two PERSONS RECEIVE A SHOCK . . 404 
 
 XII. AUCASSIN AND NlCOLETE 413 
 
 XIII. THE GODS ARE JUST 436 
 
 XIV. ROGER AND SIBYL 453 
 
 XV. THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 466 
 
 XVI. TIME'S WHEEL 482 
 
 XVII. THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 497 
 
 vii
 
 PART I 
 THE ROSE-MESH OF THE FLESH
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ROGER BOLLING 
 
 T TE seemed a mere boy as he dashed into the 
 * waiting-room at the station the incarnation 
 of eager, untried youth, of boundless hope, and un- 
 daunted purpose; of that which made him of a part 
 not only with the morning of life but with the very 
 springtime of the world, the music of Pan, and the 
 sweet mockery of illusion. He was notably tall and 
 straight, of fine athletic build, with a hint of reserve 
 force, moral as well as intellectual. Despite his gay 
 good humor, he looked as if he might be serious enough 
 on occasions, and one knew him at once for one of 
 those acutely sensitive souls with whom feeling can 
 seldom be less than profound and effort is almost 
 invariably earnest. To-day happiness, strength, surety 
 were stamped upon him as by an impress, though for 
 the moment his smooth, dark face was flushed and 
 appealingly contrite, and his manner betrayed the 
 nervous haste of one who seeks to atone for an omission 
 by an excess of alertness. 
 
 1
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Simultaneously with his cyclonic entrance, his glance 
 swept the room, and as a result of the comprehensive 
 survey his expression quickly altered. He stood dum- 
 founded and abashed. The place was wholly deserted. 
 He caught in his breath, paled a little, and took a 
 hurried step forward. What if she had come and 
 horrible thought gone ! He was a trifle late. 
 
 But, luckily, so was the train, he discovered upon 
 inquiry of the sad-eyed young man at the little oval- 
 shaped window in the corner, and there was a brief 
 interrogation, the replies to which were highly reassur- 
 ing. Roger Boiling's handsome countenance cleared. 
 All at once he drew a deep sigh of satisfaction, threw 
 back his head, and laughed aloud a ringing, boyish 
 laugh, assisted by a certain unconscious charm of 
 manner that always made people want to be friends 
 with him on the instant, and that seemed to invest with 
 interest his simplest acts and movements. Then he 
 made his way to the door opposite the one he had just 
 entered, and emerged into the dazzling summer sun- 
 shine. Plainly he was very embryonic. 
 
 He had found that, instead of being fully three 
 minutes behind time, he would have a good five minutes 
 to wait, and that, far from proving himself delinquent 
 to his trust, through a merciful intervention, he would 
 be on hand to welcome the arrival as effectively, and, 
 if need be, as effusively as if he had indeed been as 
 
 2
 
 ROGER ROLLING 
 
 punctual as his sense of obligation and courtesy re- 
 quired. However, he was not one to find justification 
 in fortuitous circumstance of a neglected act. He was 
 taking himself soundly to task. 
 
 There were only a few persons at the station, and 
 these, like himself, were evidently of the opinion that 
 the breezy platform, bordered by well-kept flower beds, 
 that stretched the length of the building and afforded 
 a pleasant view of the Kentucky skies, was a more 
 agreeable place than the close waiting-room, with the 
 loud-ticking clock and the dejected clerk. He looked 
 about him absently, his thoughts busy in self-con- 
 demnation. 
 
 Rut he admitted in a sort of half apology, and not 
 without a flash of humorous appreciation, that the 
 circumstances that led to his defection were unusual. 
 He had been talking over a very important legal matter 
 with a newly acquired client. And the subject had 
 proved sufficiently engrossing to drive entirely from 
 his mind all minor concerns. Certain it is that his 
 services had been engaged by the queer old yeoman in 
 baggy trousers and broad-brimmed hat who had 
 entered his office a little more than an hour before for 
 reasons peculiarly flattering. It was a tribute both to 
 blood and to brains, and the young man had cause 
 to congratulate himself, not only that he was a lineal 
 descendant of old Roger Rolling, one of the most 
 
 3
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 noted of a group of really great lawyers of a bygone 
 day, but also that he himself had gained sufficient 
 distinction during his nine months' practice at the 
 Lexington bar to call forth the pleasing encomiums 
 which the farmer had heaped upon him. 
 
 " I heerd you speakin' in the Co'te House long 'bout 
 last April while that Simpkins murder case was on," 
 the man had remarked affably and with a wink of 
 approval as he shifted his quid of tobacco, " an' I sez 
 to Hannah after I come home that night, I sez, ' When 
 I seen him a-standin' up thar so tall an' slim, sassin' 
 back at them other lawyers with his eyes a-blazin', I 
 could almost believe that it was ole Roger Boiling 
 himself come back to life again.' I wa'n't no more'n 
 a little shaver, an' he wa'n't no more'n a lad like you 
 when he appeared in that great case o' hisn with 
 Henry Clay an' half a dozen other big guns on t'other 
 side. But he give it to 'em, you mark my word, he 
 give it to 'em! I sez to Hannah, I sez, 'The boy's got 
 ole Roger Boiling's hawkbill nose an' eagle eye, an' 
 he's just bound to knock them other fellows out/ an' 
 I sez, 'If I git into trouble with that widdeh woman 
 'bout that Ian' across the road, an' it looks powerful 
 like I'm a-goiri* to git into trouble with her, whether or 
 no, ole Roger Boiling's grandson's the chap for me. 
 I'll bet my head 'g'inst a bucket o' beans that thar 
 ain't nary widdeh woman in the State o' Kentucky that 
 
 4
 
 ROGER ROLLING 
 
 he ain't a match for. He ain't got that hawk-bill nose 
 an' eagle eye for nothin', so that's the chap for me.' " 
 
 The old farmer's worst fears had been realized; he 
 was in trouble with the "widdeh woman," and young 
 Roger Boiling, somewhat disconcerted, it is true, by 
 such high comparison and commendation, but not 
 without a due sense of all that was to be expected of 
 one whose hereditary and facial distinction was so 
 pronounced, was throwing himself bravely into the 
 breach. Had not the farmer finally brought the inter- 
 view to a close, it may be doubted whether the ambitious 
 fledgling of the law thus encouragingly appealed to 
 would ever have been reminded of the promise he had 
 made which was to be at the station at the hour of 
 eleven to receive a young woman who was that day to 
 arrive as the guest of friends, but who, owing to a 
 most unexpected complication of affairs, was in reality to 
 become in the emergency his mother's guest and his own. 
 
 With a self-accusing pang he recalled Mrs. Cald- 
 well's hurried words of lavish appreciation as the little 
 woman stepped into the carriage that was to bear her 
 to her train. "Really, Roger, it is just too good of 
 your dear mother and yourself ! " she had exclaimed all 
 in a flutter as she clutched wildly at her glove in the 
 effort to fasten it in spite of the resistance of a very 
 plump wrist. "And it is so lovely of you both to try 
 to make me feel that you do not regard it as an impo- 
 
 5
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 sition." And then she had added, her delightful little 
 lisp especially noticeable as she leaned, breathless, out 
 of the carriage window to bestow upon him a grateful 
 wave of the hand and a hasty and somewhat bewil- 
 dering description, " My dear boy, you just can't fail to 
 discover her; she is very striking, really wonderful I 
 She is as beautiful as a statue in marble; only she is 
 not like marble, because she always makes one feel 
 that there is wine in her veins or maybe it is fire, 
 and she is tall and slim not so very slim, of course, 
 that is, she is not at all angular, and she is not too tall," 
 with a complacent lowering of the eyelids and an 
 innocent downward glance at her own small, partridge- 
 like person. " And she has curling red-brown hair 
 splendid hair and she will have on a black gown, 
 a little shabby, perhaps, and she will not be in the 
 least awkward or shy." 
 
 As he strode up and down the long platform at the 
 station, hands in his pockets, head thrown back, face 
 aglow, Roger Boiling devoutly hoped that at least 
 in one particular Mrs. Caldwell's summary would be 
 supported by fact. He felt that he would not find it 
 hard to forgive his prospective acquaintance if she 
 should prove to be far from beautiful, if only she should 
 show herself to be neither awkward nor shy. He was 
 inclined to be a little ill at ease himself on occasions, 
 and he was of the opinion that two persons in such 
 
 6
 
 ROGER BOLLING 
 
 plight are not apt to render things very agreeable for 
 either; and he did hate to feel that he was making 
 any one uncomfortable, even when conscious of not 
 being solely responsible. There was a very kindly 
 gleam in the dark gray eyes despite their perspicacity. 
 The old farmer's delineation had been drawn mainly 
 from his recollection of certain pronounced ancestral 
 peculiarities of aspect which had, it is true, in some 
 degree descended. The "eagle eye" and the "hawk- 
 bill nose" would not have been altogether misleading 
 to one seeking to identify the young man. But Roger 
 Boiling was the fortunate possessor of that particular 
 order of good looks which wins easily, and from the 
 outset, without, however, being able fully to sub- 
 stantiate its claim. He was something more than 
 handsome. His personality was unique, and, not- 
 withstanding the suggestion of immaturity, even 
 distinguished. There was something patrician in the 
 way the fine dark head was set on its shoulders; in 
 his proud, firm step in gracious keeping with the 
 thorough modesty of his bearing. One knew him at 
 once to be a man and a gentleman, with certain chival- 
 rous and obsolete ideas which threw him out of his 
 generation, and which through life would doubtless 
 stamp him as intolerant among those to whom he 
 should be something of a reproach. It was necessary 
 to study him very closely to reconcile much that seemed 
 
 7
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 contradictory. But a second glance was not needed to 
 discover that he was impetuous, and to foresee much 
 of the suffering that must inevitably befall him through 
 that very quality, sustained always by an iron determi- 
 nation to meet existence upon the plane of a pure and 
 lofty manhood. 
 
 There had been a refreshing shower in the early 
 morning hours, but now, at eleven, the sun shone 
 intensely brilliant, the more dazzling for its brief 
 hiding. The air was like a cool and sparkling bever- 
 age, intoxicating to the senses. Roger Boiling drank 
 it in with that keen and buoyant delight which belongs 
 to those whose physical side is not only sound but still 
 predominant. In his attitude and aspiration he be- 
 longed to the youth of the world, to the period of 
 bounding, joyous physical and mental life, the spirit, 
 that great mastering force in the trinity of being 
 the power which gives fineness of interpretation to the 
 various human relations being only rudimentally 
 conceived in his yet undeveloped personality. He was 
 gloriously happy, in spite of certain vaguely disturbing 
 anticipations. 
 
 He could not have told himself as he looked down 
 the gleaming car track toward the distant stretch of 
 lovely bluegrass country why he dreaded this meeting 
 with the unknown person he awaited. Yet he did 
 dread it, he admitted, with a certain odd, uncomfortable 
 
 8
 
 ROGER BOLLING 
 
 reluctance that he could not well define. He only 
 knew that he wished heartily that the ordeal were 
 over, and he pulled out his watch with an impatient 
 jerk. 
 
 In the same instant there was a shriek from the 
 engine half a mile away. Immediately a general 
 movement took place among the subordinates about 
 the station, and, as usual, inertness gave way to activity 
 at the mere approach of progress. Porters, newsboys, 
 omnibus drivers, who had been sleepily waiting the 
 arrival of the train seemed instantly galvanized to 
 their wonted energies. The place hummed with life. 
 The dreary old woman surrounded by boxes and 
 bundles began hastily to gather together her belongings. 
 The commercial tourist rose and stretched his legs, 
 throwing away his cigar with a shrug. Four or five 
 laughing young girls off for a picnic with their mascu- 
 line attendants and chaperoned by a pretty young 
 matron in a light blue gingham gown and rose-wreathed 
 hat, who dropped her final g's, came gaily down the 
 platform, making no attempt by a lowering of their 
 voices to exclude any who should care to Listen to their 
 light-hearted pleasantries. 
 
 Roger Boiling stood leaning against a post waiting 
 with a nonchalance which, though well assumed, was 
 scarcely an outward expression of an inward feeling. 
 There was another long, shrill whistle that echoed far 
 
 9
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 out into the Kentucky woodlands; and a moment later 
 the engine with its immense train of cars came snorting 
 and bellowing into the station like a great belated, 
 balking beast, half ashamed of its stubbornness. He 
 moved quickly forward. 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MARIAN DAT 
 
 SHE was not in the last coach, and he was moving 
 on to the next one when a voice spoke at his elbow 
 an extraordinary voice, smooth, controlled, and clear 
 as a bell. It affected him strangely, and not altogether 
 agreeably, in a way not unlike the impression produced 
 upon his senses when on still summer nights he waked 
 and counted the strokes of the great clock in a distant 
 dome. There was in it a note of inevitableness that 
 was at the same time both a summons and a challenge : 
 a sort of serenity of power that could afford to proceed 
 without haste, and that seemed to ally itself with 
 things vast and irresistible, the might and the surety 
 of destiny. It was without sweetness, yet it thrilled 
 him with its concentrated energy and force of sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 " This is Mr. Roger Boiling ? " the voice was saying 
 with a rising inflection, but with conviction. 
 
 He turned quickly and with an alert and responsive 
 movement peculiar to him. But as he lifted his hat 
 
 11
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 the look of courteous inquiry on his features altered 
 abruptly, just as if a flame had been suddenly swept 
 before his eyes. He stood quite still, and, for the 
 moment, it did not occur to him to make a reply. 
 But in the midst of the confusion that seemed to render 
 him temporarily dumb he realized that the detailed 
 description that had been given him had not been 
 heeded for nought. 
 
 The woman before him was tall and of exquisitely 
 rounded proportions; and she seemed to him as beau- 
 tiful as his imagination pictured Helen the type of 
 the ages and quite as mature. There was some- 
 thing dazzling and intensely potent in her personality, 
 and Mrs. Caldwell's crudely contradictory though 
 graphic comparison seized hold of him: "She is like 
 marble, only she is not like marble because she always 
 makes one feel there is wine in her veins maybe 
 fire." 
 
 " It is Mr. Boiling ? " she repeated. 
 
 Her lips, half insolent in expression, parted, as his 
 eyes met hers, in a slow, peculiar smile, and there was 
 a certain hard brilliancy in the flash of her white, even 
 teeth. Her features were intelligent, yet they made 
 the same impression upon him as her voice, which 
 both repelled and lured him. He could not account 
 for his involuntary withholding: it was impossible he 
 should know that it was in truth but the instinctive 
 
 12
 
 MARIAN DAY 
 
 recoil of the spirit from the rose-mesh of the flesh, 
 from that which, with ancient, savage strength, men 
 in all generations have fought and bled and died for, 
 and for which they have been willing to barter name 
 and fame, and sometimes even honor itself. 
 
 The young man pulled himself together and rose 
 valiantly to the occasion. She was too completely at 
 her ease to allow him any excuse for awkwardness, 
 though he was finding her self-sufficiency even more 
 disconcerting than any shyness on her part could have 
 been. 
 
 "It is, and you are Miss Day, of course," he cried 
 in cordial response, holding out his hand to her with 
 a suddenly kind-hearted impulse. His eyes had fallen 
 upon her shabby gown and worn gloves. 
 
 " I am Miss Day," she answered, carelessly, turning 
 her head slightly to one side while she secured a hat 
 pin that was slipping from its place; and his gaze, 
 following the action, rested upon her hair and became 
 entangled in it. It was quite remarkable hair, as 
 remarkable as Mrs. Caldwell had described, of a shade 
 that was doubtless a distinct auburn in shadow, but 
 now, in the sunlight, shone aureate, and thick and 
 tawny as a lion's mane, with delightful little stray 
 locks and wandering curls that would have been at 
 variance with a contour bordering upon the severely 
 classical but for the full red lips. 
 
 13
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "I thought you were looking for some one," she 
 added, with a laugh and a shrug, "and it occurred to 
 me that I might be the one you wanted." 
 
 There was a happy-go-lucky way with her, a sort of 
 Bohemian nonchalance that struck him as very odd 
 indeed; and there was even a hint of condescension in 
 her self-possession. 
 
 "You are you are indeed the one I want," he 
 answered, slightly flushed and disconcerted. "But 
 how on earth were you able to pick me out of this 
 motley throng with such unerring wisdom? Have I 
 got Roger Boiling written all over me?" 
 
 She stood looking at him, as the crowd surged to 
 and fro, with a cool and somewhat critical survey. It 
 seemed to render her wholly oblivious to the steady 
 tramp of hurrying feet, the confusing hum of greetings 
 and farewells, and the clamorous appeals of cabmen 
 and omnibus drivers mingling with the spasmodic 
 shrieks of an engine as it switched near by. She did 
 not reply at once; and again she smiled softly, secretly, 
 as to herself, the smile of a woman who knows her 
 power, yet scarcely thinks it worth her while to exert it. 
 
 "I got a telegram on the train from Mrs. Caldwell 
 saying you would meet me," she said, at length, 
 without deigning to enlighten him further. "But I 
 might ask the same sort of question of you. It was 
 really very clever of you or of Mrs. Caldwell. But 
 
 14
 
 MARIAN DAY 
 
 I have never attributed to her special gifts in the line 
 of description, so it must have been due to your own 
 powers of discrimination, after all. What was the 
 matter with her? Couldn't she get ready on time? 
 Was it just a little too much for her as usual ? " 
 
 Something in her reference to her friend, the attempt 
 to establish a kind of mutual understanding between 
 them regarding Mrs. Caldwell's deficiencies and foi- 
 bles, jarred upon his good-breeding. 
 
 " No yes that is, I mean I am sure she would 
 have been ready on time," he responded, loyally, 
 though not without a momentary misgiving for the 
 effect upon her of his needless prevarication. " How- 
 ever, she was suddenly called away. She was awfully 
 cut up about it, I hope you will believe." 
 
 He gave a short glance around, accompanied by the 
 swift, stag-like movement of the head that had caught 
 her eye the instant she stepped from the train. Then 
 he moved back. 
 
 " But I am keeping you here standing in this scorch- 
 ing sun," he supplemented, quickly, and in the mas- 
 terful tone of a man accustomed to look somewhat 
 dogmatically after a woman's small comforts. "The 
 trap is waiting just back of the station. Let me take 
 you to it. I will come back and give directions about 
 your luggage. And I shall have to countermand your 
 orders." 
 
 15
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Her brows arched in bewilderment, but without a 
 word she handed him her trunk checks and followed 
 him as he made a way for her through the crowd, her 
 indifference and languor oddly offset by his eager 
 courtesy and intense nervous energy. 
 
 He returned quickly and immediately plunged into 
 explanation. 
 
 "You see it was this way," he volunteered, as he 
 got in on the far side of Mrs. CaldwelFs gaily painted 
 little vehicle and tossed a coin, with a kindliness that 
 was at the same time lordly and debonair, to the small 
 darky who had been holding his horse for him, " it was 
 this way. Several days ago Mr. Caldwell was sum- 
 moned in haste to a brother living in Frankfort who has 
 been extremely ill, and who is now at the point of death, 
 I'm thinking. At all events, he has grown very much 
 worse, and this morning Mrs. Caldwell also was sent 
 for. She thought of telegraphing and asking you not to 
 come, but afterwards concluded that most likely things 
 were not so bad, after all, and that ' Tim,' as she calls 
 Mr. Caldwell, just wanted to see her. She had a brief 
 but entirely satisfactory conference by telephone with 
 my mother, and then she sent for your humble servant. 
 We are the Caldwells' very good friends, my mother 
 and I, and we live next door to them. So Mrs. Cald- 
 well has handed you over to us for safe-keeping, and 
 we feel ourselves very much honored, I assure you." 
 
 16
 
 MARIAN DAY 
 
 She gave him a quick, penetrating glance of startled 
 inquiry that seemed to be surprised from her against 
 her will, for her eyes were lowered instantly. But not 
 before a strange look had leaped from under the half- 
 closed lids, the look of a tigress about to be robbed of 
 her prey. Yet it vanished so speedily one might easily 
 have been persuaded it had never been there. 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed, under her breath, "oh, I 
 understand." 
 
 For a moment she was silent and abstracted, thinking 
 intently, and he hesitated to break in upon her, sup- 
 posing that she was troubled for her friends. 
 
 But all at once there took place some subtle change 
 in her mental attitude which expressed itself in an air 
 of unexpected animation a warm responsiveness of 
 demeanor which hitherto her manner had wholly 
 lacked. She roused herself and looked about her as 
 for the first time, noting with a shrewd and calculating 
 astuteness the wide, comfortable homes they were 
 passing, the trim equipages, the shadowy streets all 
 the quaint beauty and jarring uglinesses, conglomerate 
 and detached, of the old Southern town. And then, 
 under the sudden stimulus of a situation which she 
 had just become alive to, and which was likely to give 
 a very different turn to her visit from what she had 
 anticipated, her gaze once more traveled back to the 
 young man at her side and rested upon him in an 
 
 17
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 expression that was daringly tentative but at the same 
 time vigilant. 
 
 He looked up and met her eyes, and a wave of 
 youthful self-consciousness swept over him. He spoke 
 quickly and in a sort of uncertainty. 
 
 " I hope you will try to feel quite at home with us," 
 he said, with a wholesome, naive cheerfulness of tone 
 that sought merely to put her in good humor with 
 himself and everything that should be before her. 
 
 " But what an imposition ! " she cried, with an eleva- 
 tion of the eyebrows and a slow wonderment in her 
 prolonged stare that was in truth less a protest than a 
 call to arms. " Am I actually to be a trespasser upon 
 your bounty? How beneficent! You know I may 
 have to make my abode with you for days and days," 
 she added in a very low voice. 
 
 " That's Kentucky hospitality. Did you never hear 
 of it?" asked Roger Boiling. 
 
 "Very often," she retorted, with ready coquetry. 
 "I have even heard of the man who came to make a 
 visit of two weeks and stayed twenty years." 
 
 His laugh rang out. " Wasn't it immense ? But his 
 was not an isolated case, I beg you to believe. I could 
 tell you of dozens of ante-bellum tales of a similar 
 description. They surely were a jolly set, those old 
 gentlefolk of a generation ago." 
 
 "This may be a modern instance," she persisted, 
 18
 
 MARIAN DAY 
 
 coolly. But before he could answer she reverted to 
 the subject that, like a deep undertone, had been 
 sounding for her through their banter until she could 
 give heed to only it. 
 
 " Is it really so serious, do you think, this illness of 
 Mr. Caldwell's brother?" she asked. 
 
 His handsome face clouded. "I'm afraid it is 
 serious," he answered, " though Mrs. Caldwell did not 
 seem to fear the worst. But she went off in such a 
 rush she had scarcely time to think. I never saw a 
 man more grieved than poor old Tim was on the day 
 he left. It's his favorite brother, you know. We were 
 all very much disturbed for him. Mrs. Caldwell also 
 is very fond of him of the brother, I mean. You 
 know she is just the kindest hearted little woman in 
 the whole world." 
 
 "Oh, yes," she said, absently. 
 
 Again something in her tone puzzled him. He 
 looked up inquiringly, but she gave him no clue, and 
 he said with gay insouciance: 
 
 "You haven't yet told me how you happened to 
 guess my name and my errand at the station. Are 
 you in possession of some sort of secret power that 
 makes the hidden plain to you?" 
 
 Marian Day roused herself as with an effort, but 
 there was a characteristic audacity in the reply she 
 flashed back at him and in her radiant smile. 
 
 19
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "Possessed of a devil, do you mean, like the slave 
 girl of Biblical fame ? I am not sure." 
 
 He waited, vaguely conscious of something withheld, 
 her teasing allurement reflecting itself upon his coun- 
 tenance in only a puzzled amusement. 
 
 " I had seen you before," she said, presently. 
 
 " Really ? But when ? I am sure I should not have 
 forgotten." 
 
 A half bored look came into her eyes. " I meant of 
 course a picture of you," she responded, carelessly, 
 turning away from him and directing her attention to 
 the crowded street. " Mrs. Caldwell had a photograph 
 with her last winter in Louisville on a very memorable 
 occasion when she invited me in from my country 
 school to spend from Friday to Monday with her at her 
 hotel and go to the opera. You can't think how it 
 delighted me." 
 
 " The picture or the opera ? " he asked, gravely. 
 
 "To be perfectly frank with you both." 
 
 He tipped his hat to her as his laughing eyes met hers. 
 
 "I am not used to having bouquets hurled at me 
 like that, Miss Day; you must pardon me if I don't 
 know how to make the right response." 
 
 She bit her lip. "That's because you are such an 
 infant," she answered, a trifle irritably. 
 
 "An infant, am I? Well, when a fellow gets to be 
 an old man of nearly eight-and-twenty " 
 
 20
 
 MARIAN DAY 
 
 "Oh, but you are not twenty-eight," she said, 
 shortly. 
 
 " I will show you the family Bible." 
 
 She turned and looked him full in the eyes. "You 
 don't mean that you are actually " 
 
 " I am actually. Already I feel the signs of old age 
 approaching. I was something of an athlete in my 
 day." 
 
 It was evident that she was completely taken by 
 surprise. " A boy a mere boy, even younger than 
 his picture!" had been her mental comment at the 
 station, and she had been quite sure, after further 
 conversation, that he could not be more than twenty- 
 two or twenty-three at the utmost. She herself was a 
 little under twenty-nine. 
 
 When she spoke again it was with a more subtle 
 exertion of her charm and a greater soberness of 
 expression, a flattering deference that for the first time 
 was manifest in the various gradations of acquaintance 
 through which they had passed. 
 
 "It was mainly for the sake of what it stood for," 
 she said, a little sadly, at length. "Good-looking 
 young men, gentlemen, in my present experience are 
 rare. Mrs. Caldwell brought the photograph with her 
 because she wanted to see if I did not think you some- 
 thing like a man we both met last summer at a little 
 resort where I first knew her. There was not much 
 
 21
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 resemblance, I thought, except of a very superficial 
 kind, for you are so powerful, so strong, and he he 
 was dying of consumption." 
 
 There was not the smallest tremor in her voice, but 
 his face softened sympathetically and rather suggest- 
 ively. Noting the look, she said, quickly: 
 
 " The man did not interest me in the least. It was 
 not merely because disease and suffering are things 
 that almost invariably produce in me a sense of irrita- 
 tion, if not of positive animosity. It was not just that, 
 although that cough of his was simply maddening. 
 It was the realization that he was one of those sensitive, 
 uncertain souls who are always waiting for some sort 
 of divine assurance before they will enter upon any 
 kind of work, and who fail not from lack of ability but 
 from sheer procrastination." 
 
 There was a sudden vehemence in her manner, and 
 a deliberate attempt at a revelation of herself that was 
 plainly intended to draw him out; but he was silent, 
 and she went on more quietly. 
 
 "The dice of the gods may be busy with his fate, 
 and it is useless to struggle when once the final throw 
 has been cast; nevertheless, the man who courts success 
 in this day and generation hasn't time to wait until he 
 is called, you may be sure. He simply sees the plum 
 of opportunity, makes a leap for it, grasps it, if possible, 
 and is off and away with it before others have even 
 
 22
 
 MARIAN DAY 
 
 suspected it is there. This is not an age when people 
 can afford to wait for ' leadin's,' as they say down in 
 the country." 
 
 For a moment he did not answer. Then he leaned 
 forward and touched the horse lightly with the whip. 
 His face had grown thoughtful, taking on a gravity 
 that made him suddenly look his age. 
 
 "I believe that Opportunity knocks not only once 
 but many times at every man's door," he replied 
 presently, with conviction. " The difference in men is 
 in the capacity of discernment keenness of vision 
 strength of heart and brawn and brain to know and 
 seize hold of the waiting guest, and then to constrain 
 him with all the civility and all the might that may be 
 necessary to come in, instead of slamming the door in 
 his face, as very many of us often do. In that case, of 
 course, no great harm is done except to ourselves. 
 Opportunity passes on to the next one, and the world's 
 work manages to get itself done somehow, and in even 
 a better way perhaps than if we had had a hand in it. 
 Only it doesn't mean that there is any just quarrel 
 with Opportunity." 
 
 She flashed a swift, brilliant smile upon him. 
 
 " Oh, I like that I like it ! " she exclaimed, softly. 
 "It thrills me through and through. It means that 
 you are in dead earnest and that you are one of the 
 men that will surely do things." 
 
 23
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 He laughed. " With a proper degree of discrimina- 
 tion I hope I will," he replied, half in jest, half in 
 earnest. Then his face suddenly grew grave again. 
 
 "But as for the rest of what you say, that about 
 being called, you know, well, I am perfectly sure that 
 there is a distinct something that every human being is 
 divinely appointed to do in this world, whether it be 
 the particular thing he should prefer to do or not; and 
 I only know that if a fellow isn't conscious of some 
 sort of ' leadin's ' if you will lend me your w r ord - 
 as he goes about the choice of his life work, the day is 
 not very far distant when he will begin to find himself 
 somewhat in the situation King Arthur predicted for 
 his knights, 'following wandering fires, lost in the 
 quagmire.' " 
 
 He spoke simply, modestly, in a tone of seriousness 
 he had not before used with her, and she studied him 
 with a growing interest, attracted not by the ethical in 
 him which she was beginning to discern, and which as 
 a matter of fact she cared nothing for, but by a certain 
 inherent strength she saw in him which seemed to her 
 to make him a being worth while. 
 
 "After all, I am not sure that we don't both mean 
 about the same thing," she said. " It is power that I 
 care for in a man, power, always power, that tremen- 
 dous, onsweeping energy that can drive things before 
 it like a mighty wind, the great lever, the irresistible 
 
 24
 
 MARIAN DAY 
 
 force, the unconquerable element that moves the 
 world and will continue to move it until the very end 
 of all things. It matters little to me in what it finds its 
 source, what it draws on for its strength " 
 
 He met her gaze with the utmost candor. 
 
 " Isn't that rather pagan ? " he asked, smiling. 
 
 " Perhaps it is. But there is something pagan 
 barbaric, if you will, about me. Haven't you dis- 
 covered it?" 
 
 "I begin to think I have," he responded, with 
 hypocritical staidness. 
 
 She turned toward him quickly, and her voice was 
 low and tense, thrilling with passionate feeling and 
 intimate personal appeal. 
 
 "Mediocrity is something I loathe," she said. "A 
 man should either be a magnificent success or a colossal 
 failure. There is no possible middle ground for one 
 who is worthy of the name. He should fall from a 
 great height, if he must fall at all ; and to please me he 
 must be a superb exponent of those great primal forces 
 that were at work in the race when feeling was powerful 
 and paramount, and when ambition and love flew to 
 their objects straight as an arrow to its goal. In other 
 words, he should strive hard, love fiercely, and drink 
 deep of the wine of life." 
 
 She threw him a sidelong glance winged with co- 
 quetry, and with infinite flattery and suggestion. But 
 
 25
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 he only laughed back gaily, and retorted lightly; his 
 manner still remained boyishly frank. It was evident 
 she was not turning his head. Her eyes narrowed and 
 she looked away. 
 
 As a matter of fact he found it difficult to go below 
 the surface with her, and the intensity of reserve that 
 lay beneath his outward cordiality raised a barrier that 
 distinctly repelled her as she approached the confines 
 of the personal. Though her beauty had for an 
 instant startled and bewildered him, intoxicating him 
 almost like a sip from some magic draught, he had 
 soon recovered his senses, and she had been unable to 
 do more than provoke in him a mild curiosity concern- 
 ing her, without rousing his imagination or compelling 
 him to anything like the response she had deliberately 
 aimed to call forth. 
 
 He was not at all sure that he admired her, though 
 he was beginning to be a little sorry for her; and pity, 
 even when it was a long way off from compassion, was 
 dangerous ground for him always. She gave him the 
 impression, despite her dash and her defiance, of 
 having had, as he inwardly expressed it, "a pretty 
 rough time of it on the journey of life," and there was 
 a chivalry in his nature that shrank from the thought 
 of hardship to a woman. She was a new type to him, 
 and his experience had not been varied. He only 
 knew that, during her brief stay under his mother's 
 
 26
 
 MARIAN DAY 
 
 roof, he meant to be everything that was kind to her, 
 and he felt it might be possible for them, his mother 
 and himself, in some measure to atone to her for her 
 very natural disappointment on account of her friend's 
 absence. 
 
 He could not refrain as they drove along from an 
 occasional speculation as to what his mother probably 
 would think of her his lovely, high-bred mother with 
 her smooth ways and somewhat hypercritical demands, 
 particularly with regard to young women. He recalled 
 that he had once heard her say that she considered the 
 well-born Kentucky girl a most beautiful and graceful 
 and dignified representative of the aristocratic class. 
 But it went through him with the poignancy of an 
 acute reminder that in that moment she was speaking 
 of Sibyl Fontaine. What would she think of Miss 
 Day? 
 
 He asked himself that question in vain, being by no 
 means blind to the crudities, the lack of fineness and 
 of an enlightenment that was spiritual as well as social, 
 in the strange guest she should have to entertain. He 
 took another furtive glance at the clean-cut profile 
 beside him, and then looked quickly away in a sort of 
 unconscious apology. No, he was not at all sure he 
 admired her. All at once his face changed. 
 
 In the same instant Marian Day was aware that he 
 gave a quick, nervous start, and that his whole frame 
 
 27
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 was suddenly quivering under an intensity of excite- 
 ment as from an electric shock. In his eyes there was 
 a look that she had been wholly unable to call there, 
 a look of dumb, reverent admiration. 
 
 She pricked up her ears and glanced around, and as 
 she did so, in the crowded street an open carriage 
 passed, its wheels almost grazing against their own. 
 
 A black-haired young woman, dressed in white, very 
 beautiful, and with something rare and indefinable in 
 look and bearing, was alone in the carriage; and Roger 
 Boiling was in the act of making his best bow to her. 
 
 The girl flushed a little as she met the young man's 
 eyes, but there was a poise, a picturesque reserve in 
 her gracious courtesy that seemed to mark her pecul- 
 iarly as belonging to an order, and that cut Marian 
 Day like a reproof. 
 
 In that brief glance she had seen everything: the 
 beauty, the distinction, the fine, intangible dignity 
 which sat like a crown upon the small head, sur- 
 rounding it with something as delicate yet as real as 
 a bridal veil. She was, moreover, as definitely con- 
 scious of the effect of it all upon the young man as 
 if reading his very thoughts. A swift change passed 
 over her features, and her lips curled in a shrewdly 
 subtle smile. 
 
 " Ah, that's the girl ! " she commented, mentally.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 IN a low, square room, modest in appointments, yet 
 cool and restful to the eye, with white linen coverings 
 and airy draperies, and interesting on account of a 
 certain fineness of selection in the way of water-color 
 or etching, or a stray volume here and there, a graceful 
 middle-aged woman was sitting absently cutting the 
 pages of a magazine. 
 
 It was too late to read comfortably, even outside, 
 had her mood permitted it, and within, the room was 
 in deep shadow, owing to the obstruction of a wide 
 porch curtained with vines that ran the full length of 
 the building, thus gratefully, in the earlier hours, 
 intercepting the glare and imparting at all times a 
 delicious bower-like look to the abode that made it a 
 spot on which the eye of the passer-by invariably 
 lingered. The house was of a quaint, cottage style, 
 mainly of one story, with an old-fashioned doorway 
 and windows that reached down to the floor, opening 
 inward like small double-doors. All of these had been 
 
 29
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 flung wide, and the twilight air, sweet with flowers, 
 came floating in as a welcome guest. 
 
 Mrs. Boiling held the little mother-of-pearl paper 
 knife daintily between the tips of her fingers as she 
 slowly cut the leaves. In spite of her preoccupation 
 and somewhat troubled air there was a precision in 
 the evenness of the recurring movement that was sug- 
 gestive of an inherent quality. One would have made 
 sure that her grasp upon herself was well-nigh perfect, 
 and also that this self-poise had been acquired not 
 merely through a regard for conventionality, which 
 assuredly she was by no means disposed to neglect, 
 but as a result of a long discipline of life that had led 
 her up through years of trial to the serene mountain 
 heights where she breathed the pure air of a sweet and 
 patient subjection. The expression of her features 
 was mild and pensive, in marked contrast with the 
 intense, ardent questioning, the unabashed hope, the 
 vastness of longing and of purpose, that looked forth 
 with such passionate insistence from her son's eyes. 
 
 She wore a very simple dinner gown of black lawn, 
 cut surplice, and somewhat severely made, but she 
 gave an impression of completeness and of elegance, 
 and her white throat rose above the smooth folds 
 across her ample breast firm and beautiful. She had 
 grown a trifle too stout, but she was tall, and her 
 figure had not lost its suppleness. Her light-brown 
 
 30
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 hair, streaked with gray, was still abundant, and her 
 complexion was fresh and rosy as a child's. 
 
 In the room beyond the cloth was spread for dinner, 
 and a negro man-servant was moving softly to and fro. 
 Presently he began to light the candles, and Mrs. 
 Boiling in her deep chair near the window looked up 
 with a start as the soft glow from the tall silver can- 
 delabra flooded the space around. Despite the pol- 
 ished calm of her manner, her glance wandered with 
 distinct anxiety to the doorway, and her breath came 
 a trifle hurried and uneven. 
 
 For Marian Day's abrupt and dazzling entrance that 
 morning into the placidity of her home life had been 
 not unlike the shock to the senses produced by a 
 thunder-bolt hurled from a peaceful sky. It had come 
 nearer costing her the loss of her equanimity than any 
 experience that had befallen her in recent years. The 
 thought of it and of what this visit possibly might lead 
 up to had got upon her nerves and taken hold of her 
 in a way that was painfully persistent; so that she was 
 filled with forebodings, and most uncomfortably dis- 
 traught as she bent her head thoughtfully over the 
 magazine. She dallied for a moment longer, the paper 
 knife moving less regularly. 
 
 She had reached the last page. "James, tell Miss 
 Day that dinner is served," she said, noting that the 
 negro lingered idle about the table. 
 
 31
 
 "She comin' now, Miss Sophie," replied the man 
 with a grin, as he whisked an imperceptible bit of dust 
 from one of the high-backed chairs. "She been out 
 in de gyardin, an' she got her han's full." 
 
 Just as the man ceased speaking there was a rustle 
 hi the hall as of garments trailing in the direction of 
 the drawing-room, the sound being accompanied by a 
 suppressed, pantherish sort of tread that sent an 
 involuntary shiver through the waiting lady. A mo- 
 ment later Marian appeared in the doorway. She 
 was smiling softly. 
 
 She stood quite still for an instant, like one who has 
 deliberately planned an effect, and her glance traversed 
 the apartment with the swiftness of a wind-swept 
 flame. Suddenly her expression changed. A quickly 
 assumed nonchalance took the place of the radiant 
 self-possession that had preceded it, and she spoke 
 familiarly, with even a note of impatience in her clear 
 treble, as if suddenly jarred upon in some way, and 
 grown conscious. 
 
 "How can you leave all these roses out there to 
 blush unseen, Mrs. Boiling?" she cried. "It posi- 
 tively hurts me. In another day they will be beginning 
 to fall. But I have rescued a few from obscurity - 
 that most galling of conditions. Don't you want them 
 for your dinner table ? " 
 
 She held out the huge bunch of flowers she had just 
 32
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 gathered and then dropped it with a careless gesture 
 as Soon as she had reached the center of the room, 
 apparently forgetful of having an instant before 
 directed attention to it. 
 
 Mrs. Boiling rose graciously, though slightly taken 
 by surprise. In spite of her rare tact and knowledge 
 of the world she had been from the very outset not a 
 little disconcerted by a guest whose strange lack of 
 ceremony offered a contrast to her own formality 
 sufficiently pronounced to make her feel their relative 
 positions to be reversed, and she herself the one re- 
 ceived and not the one receiving. Not that Marian 
 did not attempt to put her at her ease. She had 
 entered the house with all the air of one long expected, 
 and she had made known her intention at once of 
 accepting the cordial invitation that had been extended 
 to make herself quite at home in it. The elder woman 
 glanced a little helplessly at the great nosegay on the 
 table before her. 
 
 " Oh ! ah, of course, my dear I shall be 
 charmed," she said, quickly. " James, take them 
 and put them in water," she commanded in an 
 aside. "I believe there will not be room for any 
 more on the dinner table," she explained, while 
 Marian, with the detachment of utter indifference, 
 stood watching the negro as he gathered the roses 
 up. " James has his orders to keep us well supplied, 
 
 33
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 but I am sure he will find a place for these. How 
 very good of you! I hope you did not prick your 
 fingers ? " 
 
 "I found some scissors in my trunk, and I never 
 expect my roses to be without thorns. As a rule, I 
 have had the thorns without the roses," replied Marian 
 Day, taking a photograph from the table and coolly 
 examining it, her glaiice sweeping the unfamiliar 
 features with the swift and penetrating inquiry she 
 had bestowed upon the little domicile and all that it 
 contained on entering it seven or eight hours before. 
 Mrs. Boiling was morally certain that that same 
 acumen had counted every one of her gray hairs, and 
 that Miss Day was as cognizant as she was of their 
 recently restricted income. 
 
 At luncheon the situation had been distinctly strained, 
 notwithstanding Roger's light-hearted pleasantries, his 
 ready flow of conversation, and his attitude slightly 
 reassuring to her motherly alarms of kindly but 
 unensnared protection. Mrs. Boiling's sense of pro- 
 priety, which was of a delicacy unusual enough to be 
 commented upon, forbade, even with her son, any 
 discussion of a guest to whom their shelter had been 
 thus afforded; but she had watched the two with a 
 veiled disquiet beneath her exquisite refinement and 
 courtesy and patrician calm, and she was by no means 
 disposed to cavil at the circumstance which had 
 
 34
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 temporarily at least removed from danger the object 
 of her fears. 
 
 Presently Marian raised her head and tossed the 
 photograph aside, and Mrs. Boiling, who had been 
 obligingly waiting, moved forward. She had caught 
 the hard little note hi the girl's voice, and it had set 
 her to wondering. Mrs. Caldwell had been able to 
 tell her so little. 
 
 " We are to dine alone, you and I," she said, affably, 
 but with a covert glance that her smooth and kindly 
 urbanity did not forbid. "My son has an engage- 
 ment, to his regret, he asked me to say one that he 
 could not cancel. He wished me to make his apologies 
 to you." 
 
 If this announcement caused her any dissatisfaction 
 Marian Day was far too clever to reveal it. She merely 
 nodded and made no comment, and the two seated 
 themselves at the table. 
 
 But as the light of the waxen candles fell upon the 
 silent and half disdainful figure at her side, Mrs. 
 Boiling's heart gave a quick throb of nervous appre- 
 hension, and she was startled anew into an unwilling 
 acknowledgment of the alluring power of the girl's 
 ripe and dazzling beauty, and of her insolent charm. 
 For beneath that lovely marble-like exterior she had 
 seen what Mrs. Caldwell's flightiness and Roger's 
 inexperience had failed to discern, and, before its 
 
 35
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 momentary quiescence, she trembled, as if suddenly 
 brought into contact with the sleeping passion of the 
 jungle. 
 
 Marian was dressed with a certain regard for a 
 classic suggestion, and her white gown of a silky gauze, 
 cut a little low at the throat and secured slightly above 
 the waist line by a slender golden girdle, was soft and 
 sheeny and clinging, and fell sheer as gossamer about 
 her shapely limbs. Her hair was loosely arranged in 
 a Psyche knot at the back, and it rippled and rioted 
 away from her white brow, and formed itself into 
 countless little curls and twists here and there in a 
 manner that was truly bewitching. 
 
 Mrs. Boiling found herself not a little disturbed by 
 an evident effort to please which, she knew intuitively, 
 was not directed mainly toward herself; and she was 
 discreetly on the alert, recalling the look on the girl's 
 face when her eyes swept the room a moment before. 
 
 "You should always wear white, my dear," she 
 remarked in her gently patronizing way, and with a 
 hurried second glance that was decorously questioning. 
 "It is wonderfully becoming to you. I think one 
 reason why our Southern girls make so many conquests 
 over their Northern sisters is because they recognize 
 the attractiveness of simplicity in dress to men at 
 least." 
 
 Marian flinched, and looked quickly into the pleasant 
 36
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 face turned toward her. She was by no means reas- 
 sured, despite its complaisance. 
 
 " I think some of us are driven to that discovery by 
 a force even more compelling than the desire for 
 masculine approval," she responded, dryly, with a low 
 chime of laughter that blended with the chilliness of 
 her tone like the music of sleigh bells making a hard 
 silvery obligate to the accompanying sound of the 
 frozen earth as the runners glide over it. Her lashes 
 were downcast, and there had come a dull red in her 
 cheeks as if kindled by some secret inward fire. It 
 altered her strangely. 
 
 Mrs. Boiling was conscious of the stirring of a revolt 
 that might be capable under stress of developing into 
 open rebellion. 
 
 " Then it is necessity, is it ? who it seems is not 
 only the mother of invention but also of good taste?" 
 she asked, smiling, as the soup was placed before them. 
 
 " Rather, a woful progeny of dowdies exhibiting every 
 variety of clumsy makeshift," the girl flung back. 
 Then a sudden audacity leaped into her eyes; and a 
 sort of dare-devil spirit provoked by the consciousness 
 of being disapproved of, which something, despite the 
 careful courtesy of the other, had made her most 
 irritatingly alive to, drove her to touch upon the very 
 subject which, for cogent reasons of her own, she 
 most wished to avoid. 
 
 37
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "But I am not all Southern," she said, "as you 
 supposed. My father was what in Virginia was always 
 described as a Yankee. He came from Vermont." 
 
 She had no sooner spoken than she regretted it. 
 Mrs. Boiling was interested at once, and hopeful, with 
 the Kentuckian's inborn love of pedigree, of estab- 
 lishing an agreeable basis of conversation. 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" she exclaimed. "But your mother 
 was a Virginian? In what part of the state did you 
 live ? We have many relatives in Virginia, Roger and 
 I." 
 
 There was an instant's hesitation, and Mrs. Boiling 
 waited patiently. The delay was barely perceptible, 
 yet it did not pass unnoticed. 
 
 All at once Marian slowly, and with a shade of 
 defiance in her aspect, raised her head and looked her 
 hostess in the eyes. 
 
 " We lived in Richmond," she said. 
 
 "In Richmond? Then you must know a great 
 many persons with whom we are acquainted. Do you 
 recall " and she was about to go over a list of familiar 
 names when Marian cut in coldly, but with seeming 
 carelessness. 
 
 " Oh, but we were quite unimportant," she declared. 
 " I believe we did trace back, somewhere on a line of 
 my mother's, to a Fairfax, or some one else, after 
 skipping over a great many nobodies in between. 
 
 38
 
 MRS. ROLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 However, it doesn't matter. My father was a ne'er-do- 
 weel, and my mother never knew anything but hard- 
 ship and privation all the days of her life with him. 
 If it takes four generations to bring the individual up 
 from poverty to the highest grade of gentility, the 
 process can be reversed with half the number." 
 
 Mrs. Boiling was perplexed. A vague suspicion, 
 too shadowy indeed to be called anything so definite, 
 was beginning to be awakened in her by the intimation 
 of an attitude of concealment, which one less observant 
 might readily have failed to perceive, but which to 
 Mrs. Boiling was evident despite Marian's undaunted 
 candor. She believed that it had nothing whatever to 
 do with a desire to withhold from her the fact of 
 humble birth. 
 
 " You don't think it is a question of money, do you ? " 
 she asked, a trifle distantly. "Think of the fine old 
 families in Kentucky and Virginia whose fortunes are 
 lost to them, but who, nevertheless, have never sur- 
 rendered an iota of their gentility or of their tradition, 
 or of their position! There are some things that one 
 need never lose." 
 
 She caught herself up, suddenly recollecting that her 
 guest was an acknowledged nobody. " And yet a 
 Fairfax?" she asked herself wonderingly. It was 
 difficult to believe that one could have in one's veins 
 even a far-off strain of high-breeding and not be 
 
 39
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 rescued from such raw inelegances, such a total lack 
 of everything that to her mind constituted the lady of 
 quality, as was manifest in Marian Day. She felt sure 
 that there must be some mistake, that it must have 
 been " some one else." 
 
 " If it is not a question of money, I am sure I don't 
 know what it is a question of," observed Marian, with 
 a shrug, and in a tone of obvious relief. 
 
 Mrs. Boiling studied the pattern of the table-cloth 
 attentively. She was smiling when she spoke, but her 
 tone was more formal than it yet had been. 
 
 "Upon that principle, Miss Day," she replied, "the 
 number of gentlemen in the South would be small 
 indeed." 
 
 James had removed the fish, and Marian's gaze was 
 wandering a little absently about the room. Under 
 all her bold speech her thoughts were thrumming a 
 monotone. And Roger Boiling's face, young, ardent, 
 and still undespoiled of its supremest charm its 
 divine faith in all high and noble things, its passionate 
 purity, seemed to look at her across the blur of the 
 pink wax candles with an expression half pleading in 
 the eager eyes. She did not reply directly to Mrs. 
 Boiling's remark, but, with a strange fitful gleam 
 darting from under her half closed lids, she folded her 
 hands in her lap and laughed softly to herself, the 
 laughter of a Lorelei, who sees her victim swimming 
 
 40
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 toward her in the foam. Then she turned quickly, 
 fingering the delicate spiral of her glass. 
 
 "You spoke of tradition," she said, deliberately 
 playing with the subject as a cat with a mouse, one 
 moment releasing it, and then making a dash for it 
 and shaking it a little viciously between her white 
 teeth. " But tradition of what, if not of gold lace and 
 former splendors? I should like to have a little of 
 the gold lace myself. Small comfort it would be to 
 me to know it had adorned my ancestors when I 
 myself have to go in rags. When I am married " 
 she paused a moment, and then her lips parted in a 
 swift, daring smile of infinite coquetry and complexity 
 and confidence in self " when I am married, it will 
 be, I hope, to a man who can give me something more 
 substantial than a dingy name reflecting feebly the 
 fading glories of the past. After all, the pride of the 
 Kentuckian and the Virginian resolves itself down to 
 a very simple thing the thing of dollars and cents, 
 his ancestors' dollars and cents, I mean." 
 
 " Has it never occurred to you that it might be based, 
 for instance, upon noble deeds, service to one's country, 
 hereditary instincts of honor and refinement ? " inquired 
 Mrs. Boiling, with suave hostility. 
 
 Marian laughed again softly. Her expression had 
 taken on a peculiar exhilaration. The swimmer was 
 surely coming to her in the dark, fighting the waves 
 
 41
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 with his strong young arms. It would be only a ques- 
 tion of time. She could easily make him forget that 
 other girl, here, under the same roof with him. And 
 before the very eyes of his proud mother she would 
 prove her power. The thought sent a wild thrill 
 through her. The fact of opposition only lent a 
 piquant zest to a situation which was indeed scarcely 
 one she would have chosen, but which, nevertheless, 
 was not without its possibilities and its own peculiar 
 charm. 
 
 " Noble deeds are best remembered," she said, 
 "when rewarded by valuable land grants and impor- 
 tant official place, as was the case surely with many of 
 your distinguished early Kentuckians. You see I am 
 up on your history; it is my misfortune to teach it five 
 months out of every year in a school down in Jefferson 
 County." 
 
 Mrs. Boiling changed the subject mildly but firmly. 
 
 " Do you not find it very dull in the country in the 
 winter ? Or are you too absorbed in your teaching 
 except in the case of Kentucky history to mind ? " 
 
 She broke off with a perfunctory smile; the question 
 seemed almost ludicrously inapt addressed to a woman 
 of the dazzling, dashing type that Marian seemed to 
 her to be; and the sense of mystery deepened. But 
 Marian's manner had taken on the utmost of frankness; 
 or of assurance. 
 
 42
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 "Dull!" she echoed. "It would be like applying 
 the word to purgatorial fires to call it that just that. 
 And it all simply represents to me a means of liveli- 
 hood, not the 'holy and honorable and delightful 
 calling' that the candidates for superintendent always 
 tell us it is. I am not inspired by anything grand or 
 heroic, and I am not of the stuff that martyrs are made. 
 I should object strongly to burning at the stake; but 
 sometimes I have felt tempted to set fire to the school- 
 house. When the end of the last term was reached I 
 felt that if there were to be another day, another hour 
 of such torture I should have committed suicide. It 
 is a rather melodramatic way of making one's exit, to 
 be sure. But it has its advantages. I went imme- 
 diately after school closed to a friend living hi the 
 suburbs of Cincinnati. The visit meant to me what 
 the few weeks meant that I spent last summer in the 
 Kentucky mountains, where I met Mrs. Caldwell. It 
 just saved my life, that is all. But even yet I can't 
 think of that school without a shudder." 
 
 Mrs. Boiling's face softened. " Is it really so dread- 
 ful, my dear?" she asked, sympathetically. 
 
 " It really is," said Marian, with sudden nonchalance. 
 
 James set plates of chicken salad in crisp lettuce 
 leaves before them and went off for beaten biscuits. 
 
 Marian leaned toward her hostess. "It is simply 
 devilish, Mrs. Boiling," she declared. "Teaching is 
 
 43
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 a device of Lucifer designed as a torment. But I 
 dared not express myself quite so strongly before that 
 servant of yours for fear he should think, from my 
 intimate acquaintance with satanic methods, you were 
 entertaining an angel of darkness instead of an angel 
 of light." 
 
 Mrs. Boiling's eyes were pitiful, but she was thinking, 
 however, not only of the unhappy young woman forced 
 thus reluctantly to earn her bread, but also of the 
 unfortunates under her charge. 
 
 " I trust that your visit to Lexington will be pleasant 
 and restful to you," she said, at length, both repelled 
 and touched. "Mrs. Caldwell is very gay; she will be 
 able to do a great deal to enliven you, that is if 
 nothing should interfere." 
 
 "If Mr. Caldwell's brother doesn't die, most inop- 
 portunely? But he will, of course; it will be just my 
 luck." 
 
 " I am afraid there is little hope for him." 
 
 Mrs. Boiling grew suddenly distant, and Marian 
 looked up fiercely. But there came a swift alteration, 
 and her whole being all at once voiced an appeal. 
 
 " You are thinking me heartless ! " she cried in a tone 
 that was both hurt and contrite. " But oh, you don't, 
 it is impossible you should understand, you could never 
 understand how I have looked forward to this visit, 
 and now just as it had seemed to come to me 
 
 44
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 She broke off and then went on with a little gasp. 
 "My life has been, still is, harder than anything you 
 could imagine. Before my mother's death I taught a 
 country school in Indiana. We were barely able to 
 exist." 
 
 "You are you are now quite alone?" asked Mrs. 
 Boiling, very gently. 
 
 "I am entirely without encumbrances," replied 
 Marian, with one of her sudden, flashing smiles. 
 
 The quickness of the transition, the complete change 
 in voice and manner, was something to take one's 
 breath away. Again Mrs. Boiling changed the subject 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Roger has gone this evening to the hotel to dine 
 with a friend, a distinguished author who has been 
 visiting here. No doubt you have read some of his 
 writings, and you must have heard Mrs. Caldwell 
 speak of him. His name is Waller, Francis Waller." 
 
 There was an instant's intense stillness. Marian sat 
 motionless. A slow tide of crimson had mounted to 
 her brow, but it receded, leaving her strangely white 
 and still. 
 
 "I have heard of him," she replied, with downcast 
 eyes. 
 
 "He has been staying recently with the Caldwells, 
 and would have remained longer, I believe, but for the 
 circumstances. We have seen quite a good deal of 
 
 45
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 him. Of course Roger asked him here this evening, 
 but he insisted that, as he was leaving to-night for the 
 East, the other way would be more convenient." 
 
 Marian started violently. And had Mrs. Boiling 
 looked up she would have seen that same swift look, 
 flashed from beneath the lowered lids, that, for the 
 briefest possible space, Roger had caught sight of on 
 the drive from the station when he told her of the 
 unexpected turn of affairs the look of some savage 
 thing suddenly thwarted in its desire. 
 
 But Mrs. Boiling was preoccupied. A bowl of 
 frozen cream had just been placed before her, and 
 she was concerned with serving it. 
 
 "After the train leaves Roger will go to the cotil- 
 lion," she said, her thoughts, with customary maternal 
 absorption, wandering away to her son. " Do you care 
 for dancing?" 
 
 "Immensely," replied Marian, coolly. She had 
 quite recovered herself. "Not that I have much 
 opportunity of indulgence in that line." 
 
 Mrs. Boiling put down her spoon. Her face was 
 troubled and apologetic; and she was a little startled 
 by the sudden realization of a state of things she had 
 not, in her preoccupation, until that moment fully 
 grasped. But the tone was an unmistakable prod. 
 
 "I am very sorry," she murmured, coloring in con- 
 fusion. " It has just occurred to me that possibly you 
 
 46
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 might have cared to go to the dance. But somehow I 
 had got from Mrs. Caldwell in our hurried conversation 
 the impression your black gown, my dear I never 
 thought to mention it. I really am very sorry." 
 
 Marian made no effort to relieve the embarrassment. 
 " Where is the dance to be ? " she asked. 
 
 " At the home of some friends of ours, the Fontaines. 
 I might readily have asked for an invitation for you. 
 They gave also a large reception this afternoon, a sort 
 of farewell occasion, for they are going abroad to be 
 gone a long time, I fear. I went for a few moments 
 while you were resting. I don't think I ever looked 
 at a more beautiful girl than my young hostess was as 
 she stood by the side of her courtly father and received 
 their guests. There were a number of men present, 
 most of them contemporaries of her father, and I was 
 struck by the polish and the sweetness of her manner 
 toward them. Sibyl is very high-bred. I wonder " 
 Mrs. Boiling was speaking absently, and without the 
 smallest intention of imparting a sting, though making 
 an unconscious comparison "I wonder if you did 
 not pass her in the street this morning on your way 
 here ? She drove by just a few moments before you 
 arrived, a lovely, dark-haired girl in a muslin gown 
 and a large hat of white chiffon. She and Roger must 
 have spoken. Do you recall it?" 
 
 Marian's face had taken on an odd, sphinx-like 
 47
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 expression. She sat perfectly silent, as unconscious, 
 apparently, of the other's presence as if she were quite 
 alone and as if the very riddle of the ages lurked in 
 that rapt, peculiar calm. Presently she looked up, 
 and she was smiling, smiling softly to herself. 
 "I think I do," she said. 
 
 After the return to the drawing-room Marian seemed 
 to feel herself absolved from all further duty in the 
 way of conversation. She wandered restlessly about 
 the room, drummed a little on the piano, fingered the 
 books on the table, moved from picture to picture, and 
 finally sank down on a sofa in the corner answering 
 all the while almost in monosyllables. But at nine 
 o'clock there came a diversion. 
 
 A firm, buoyant step hurried up the walk, sprang 
 lightly up the flight of steps and over the door-sill, and 
 then darted through the hall with the rapidity of the 
 whirlwind, accomplishing the whole performance in 
 such an incredibly short space of time that the two 
 women involuntarily started and turned their eyes in 
 the same direction. Then an indulgent smile over- 
 spread the features of the elder, and she rose and 
 moved toward the door. 
 
 "It is Roger, come back to dress for the dance," 
 she said. "Will you excuse me if I leave you for a 
 little while? I should like to speak to him." 
 
 48
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 After she was alone Marian sat a moment in deep 
 thought, her hands clasped about her knee, her gaze 
 riveted on the rug at her feet, her expression a trifle 
 hard and strained. 
 
 All at once she rose, threw back her head, and walked 
 out to the flower-scented porch. Here she paused a 
 moment, and then, in the same abstraction, she passed 
 down the steps and made her way to the front gate, 
 the moonlight falling weirdly upon her hair and her 
 white gown, changing one to gold and the other to 
 samite, and thus enhancing in her appearance a certain 
 magical quality that made her seem to-night like a 
 creature that had wandered out of some old, enchanted 
 forest. 
 
 And it was here she was standing when Roger came 
 down the walk a half hour later. 
 
 At the sound of his footsteps she turned and stood 
 waiting, leaning her form lightly against the iron gate, 
 which she had found open and then had softly latched. 
 Under all her seeming languor there was the impres- 
 sion of energy quivering in every fiber, a sense of tension 
 expressed in a look of almost breathless anticipation; 
 and her eyes gleamed with a fitful, eerie light that 
 gave a wild poetry to her beauty, and for the instant 
 softened its mere voluptuousness into something finer 
 and far more perilous. 
 
 He came up smiling, unconscious, thoroughly kindly 
 49
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 yet evidently eager to be off. But she did not speak, 
 and she made no movement. He could not pass 
 without being guilty of a rudeness. 
 
 He stood an instant somewhat taken by surprise, 
 and confused by her strange stillness. And then sud- 
 denly, as if drawn by a magnet, his gaze rested full 
 upon her; and again, as at the station, he was rendered 
 spellbound in the presence of something that was not 
 just beauty alone. 
 
 Neither spoke. Far down the street the sound of a 
 mandolin and of young voices blending with it fell 
 upon the ear, drew nearer and then receded, as the 
 merry crowd passed into another square. Roger pulled 
 himself together with a start, and his face was disturbed 
 and a trifle dazed. 
 
 She lifted the latch and flung the gate wide, and a 
 soft laughter broke from her when he did not move 
 but stood stock-still, staring dumbly at her. She 
 misinterpreted the look, and spoke rashly, low under 
 her breath, throwing all the allurement of which she 
 was capable into voice and manner. 
 
 " I have had all day," she said, dreamily, " since that 
 moment I saw you waiting for me at the station, the 
 oddest feeling I have ever known just as if it were 
 not a stranger that stood there, but some one very 
 dear to me in some other and far more beautiful 
 existence; some one linked too intimately with my past 
 
 50
 
 MRS. BOLLING IS ALARMED 
 
 destiny to make it possible for me to be formal with 
 him long. Here at least to-night, under that old moon 
 that knows all secrets, I cannot." 
 
 He laughed gaily. But he looked away, and a sense 
 of embarrassment was growing upon him. 
 
 "Then you do stand a little in awe of the man in 
 the moon if not of his earthly counterpart! A jolly 
 time the old fellow must have of it up there if he has 
 to remember everything," he responded in a tone that 
 was definitely impersonal. 
 
 "Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he only deigns to 
 remember those things that have a force in themselves, 
 vital enough and powerful enough for resurrection. I 
 know I know that I have seen you before. Not 
 just a photograph of you, not just some one a little 
 like you, but you, your very self, you and no other. 
 When you spoke to me the very tones of your voice 
 were familiar. I had often heard you laugh." 
 
 "Can you tell me in what particular quarter of the 
 globe I happened to be?" he asked, teasingly. "I 
 only hope it was where clients were plentiful and 
 lawyers few. That would account for any amount of 
 hilarity on my part." 
 
 " It was where all lovely things have lodgment, and 
 where " she hesitated and her voice dropped to a 
 whisper "where I was supremely blest." 
 
 He glanced down the street, growing restive, yet too 
 51
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 courteous to make the movement of departure until 
 she should give him the excuse. 
 
 "Where all lovely things have lodgment?" He 
 repeated the words smiling, yet a trifle wistfully, as to 
 himself. "Where, oh, where is there such an Elysium 
 on this earth ? I was half hoping that you meant this 
 ancient, highly respectable, but by no means spotless 
 town until you said that. We have several things here 
 that could hardly be described as lovely." 
 
 "It was in an even more delightful place than 
 Lexington." 
 
 "More delightful than Lexington? What heresy! 
 Where was it then? Tell me quickly, so that I can 
 hasten to bring down the pride of these old Lexing- 
 tonians to a wholesome humility by your adverse 
 comparison." 
 
 She slowly raised her eyes to his. "Do you really 
 wish me to tell you ? " she asked. 
 
 " If you will be so good. Perhaps it was in Jefferson 
 County ? " he suggested, gravely. 
 
 She threw him a coquettish glance that was yet half 
 contemptuous; and she was by no means disconcerted. 
 Then she turned and started up the path. But after 
 she had gone a step or two she looked back, and a low 
 laughter fell from her lips. 
 
 " Perhaps it was in my dreams," she said.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE COTILLION 
 
 THE cotillion had already begun, and the band was 
 playing merrily as Roger Boiling went up the steps of 
 a large buff-colored mansion in a quiet quarter of the 
 town. 
 
 The house stood in almost suburban privacy some 
 distance back from the street in the midst of a grassy 
 lawn, and it was approached by a gravel driveway and 
 foot-path that wound under a number of fine shade 
 trees. Whether through an association of ideas, or 
 because of something inherent in its style of structure, 
 the place always seemed to Roger as especially de- 
 signed for just such a proceeding as was at present 
 taking place within its walls. Such a debonair and 
 easy hospitality pervaded it, such a gracious airiness 
 of tone, such a delightful suggestion of good cheer, 
 that he never passed that way at any time or season 
 that there did not immediately come before his mind's 
 eye diaphanous floating garments moving lightly along 
 the wide porches with their innumerable slender 
 
 53
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 columns, and he did not hear in fancy the sound of 
 music and of laughter accompanied with all the other 
 evanescent tokens of mirth, half sad, yet sweet, that 
 belong to a young and gay assemblage. 
 
 Not that there was lacking a certain dignity, for the 
 house was old, being one of the many picturesque and 
 characteristic abodes which early gave to the town a 
 gentle grace of architecture that was distinctly Southern, 
 and that was destined in later years still to preserve an 
 antique respectability in spite of much unsightly new- 
 ness. But it was a cheerful dignity, and of a somewhat 
 different order from that of the other residences on a 
 line with it. The latter were stately mansions, with 
 massive pillars and a noble simplicity of outline. One 
 of these, the house on the left, in particular from 
 the front windows of which not even a lamp shone 
 feebly seemed to rise in solemn reproof and nega- 
 tion, like a huge white sepulchre, from out of the 
 shadows that surrounded it, heightened as were these 
 by contrast with the eleptric lights of its neighbor's 
 grounds. 
 
 Roger paused a moment and looked earnestly in the 
 direction of this solitary domicile, which held for him 
 a peculiar meaning. A sudden frown had overspread 
 his features. 
 
 Within the building before him the band was still 
 playing, a recurrent sob-like note that is seldom absent 
 
 54
 
 THE COTILLION 
 
 from the most spirited dance music mingling in pas- 
 sionate insistence with the sigh of the summer night. 
 Through the sheer curtains that waved a little with the 
 coming breeze he could see graceful figures moving 
 with rhythmic tread about the long drawing-rooms to 
 the left. Now and then a silver whistle sounded clear 
 and sweet. But he was only vaguely conscious of the 
 brilliant scene; for the moment his thoughts were far 
 away, grappling with the recollection of an ancient 
 wrong and injustice. 
 
 Suddenly the music ceased, and he caught himself 
 up with a start. Then, with a short laugh and a 
 smothered ejaculation, he turned with instinctive good- 
 humor to the present and ran quickly up the remaining 
 steps, passing through the open doorway and on into 
 the flower-decked hall. 
 
 A middle-aged gentleman who was that moment 
 coming down the stairs caught sight of him as he 
 appeared on the landing and turned with cordial 
 alacrity. He was a thin, delicately built man, with a 
 certain wiriness that belied his fragility; and though 
 somewhat short of stature he yet gave an impression 
 of elegance and dignity. His youngish face was smooth 
 shaven, and the thin lips, as they parted in a sudden, 
 flashing smile, revealed remarkably fine teeth. His 
 hair, which was almost entirely white, and very abun- 
 dant, was allowed to grow rather long, and was brushed 
 
 55
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 back from his brow in a manner that gave a hint of 
 eccentricity. 
 
 "Ah, Roger!" he exclaimed, heartily, extending 
 a hand as graceful as a woman's, " I am glad to see 
 you, my boy. It is always a special gratification to 
 welcome your father and mother's son under this 
 roof." 
 
 All the stateliness of the high-born Southron of a 
 bygone day, the exquisite courtesy of the past, that 
 somehow in most cases seems to have lost its fineness 
 in the hurry of our commercial age, the lavish hos- 
 pitality that was wont to throw wide the doors of 
 home, proffering it and all that it contained to an 
 honored guest, all this and more spoke in the low, 
 beautifully modulated voice. 
 
 "I always feel it a special privilege to come here, 
 judge," replied the young man, very earnestly and 
 simply. 
 
 A whimsical expression flitted across Judge Fon- 
 taine's face. He assumed a mock ferocity. " But you 
 are late ! " he cried. " What do you mean by allowing 
 all those young fellows in there to get the better of you ? 
 They've been dancing a quarter of an hour or more. 
 You should not let your chances slip like that. 
 
 ' Gather ye roses while ye may, 
 
 Old Time is still a-flying, 
 And that same flower that smiles to-day 
 To-morrow will be dying.' 
 
 56
 
 THE COTILLION 
 
 "'To-morrow will be dying,'" he repeated, softly, 
 and as in reminiscent sadness, to himself, while a 
 shade of melancholy all at once fell upon his features 
 and wrapped him in the quietude of a peculiar reserve. 
 It was one of those moments when a curtain seems 
 suddenly to be lifted, and behind it all the pain and 
 loss of a lifetime stand revealed. But it was only for 
 an instant. 
 
 " Go, my boy, don't let me keep you. It is a merry 
 throng that awaits you there. And it is a fine assem- 
 blage, my dear sir a very fine assemblage although 
 a little confusing to an old genealogist like myself who 
 is always listening for the dear familiar names. Too 
 many of these are heard no more in Kentucky, and 
 there is scarcely a state in the Union in which the 
 children of my early friends are not wandering, so that 
 if the question ' Whose son is this youth ? ' were 
 put to me with respect to many that remain, which 
 Saul asked of Abner concerning the young David, I 
 should have to answer, as did the captain of the host, 
 ' As thy soul liveth, O King, I cannot tell.' " 
 
 He caught himself up with an air of profound 
 apology, and again he waved his hand. 
 
 " Ah, but I am detaining you ! Go go and dance 
 to your heart's content. Then, if a young giant like 
 you ever can know fatigue, come to me when you are 
 tired, for a quiet talk in my library. I am putting the 
 
 57
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 finishing touches to another long chapter of the history 
 to-night. I should like to discuss portions of it with 
 you. In the meantime I wish you a most delightful 
 evening. Here off with you! Sibyl is waiting." 
 
 With an elaborate bow he turned away and moved 
 with great dignity down the hall, pausing an instant 
 on the threshold of his library to throw an affectionate 
 glance in the direction of a black-haired young woman 
 in ethereal white, who in that instant whirled past the 
 opposite doorway, and of whom it was decided hyper- 
 bole to say that she was waiting. 
 
 She was dancing with far too evident zest for him to 
 lay anything like that flattering unction to his soul, 
 and Roger Boiling smiled a little grimly to himself at 
 the bare suggestion as he strode into the drawing-room. 
 
 It was a very long room, distinguished, airy, South- 
 ern, with Corinthian columns, and dark wood floor, 
 and an old-fashioned crystal chandelier of many pen- 
 dants. The woodwork was white and carved, and 
 against this the quantity of smilax that was everywhere 
 used produced a pleasant effect of coolness and green- 
 ness. The orchestra was stationed on a raised platform 
 in front of the open windows at the rear that looked out 
 on the garden; and in the corner opposite the door 
 Roger had just entered there was a round mahogany 
 table gay with baubles, which was presided over by a 
 very imposing middle-aged woman in black satin and 
 
 58
 
 THE COTILLION 
 
 lace. The girl of twenty-two or thereabout at her 
 side was blonde, short, and rather stout, her person- 
 ality being in marked contrast with that of the elder 
 woman. Yet a stranger would have known at a glance 
 that they were mother and daughter. Despite the 
 dissimilarity, there was still a resemblance, which, 
 though hard to define, was potent and assertive. The 
 other guests were seated in slender high-backed chairs, 
 placed against the walls of the room, and they were 
 laughing and talking in a lively way, throwing, however, 
 from time to time, furtive glances in the direction of 
 the leader, a very young man with a large nose, who 
 led with a supreme nonchalance and disdain born of 
 an overweening sense of his own importance. 
 
 Presently he gave the signal. The band struck up 
 anew, and instantly a number of dancers were on the 
 floor. Roger stood watching them as they executed 
 an intricate figure with the abandon of high spirits and 
 the ease of practised grace, his eyes following one of 
 the number with the rapt, exclusive attention which, 
 more than once before, when seeing her in a roomful, 
 he had found himself bestowing upon Sibyl Fontaine. 
 
 She seemed well worthy of his notice. She was a 
 very beautiful young girl, with something fine and 
 distinguished in her appearance which enforced 
 her individuality in any crowd. But beyond this 
 there was more, a certain indescribable quality 
 
 59
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 that gave tone to all the rest. One felt instinctively that 
 hers could be no ordinary career, and that she was a 
 being on whom fate had set a mark, not only in the 
 
 & 
 
 gift of extraordinary beauty but of extraordinary 
 power to feel. She was quiveringly alive to her very 
 finger-tips, notwithstanding her outward poise. Her 
 small head, with its crown of heavy black hair, was 
 set nobly upon her shoulders, and she carried herself 
 with an erectness that had in it a suggestion of pride 
 of race, but was without hauteur. She was slim, albeit 
 exquisitely rounded, being one of those lithe, small- 
 boned women who have the charm of littleness without 
 being undersized. As a matter of fact she was taller 
 than the average. 
 
 Unlike others about her, her face was not flushed 
 from dancing. She was white, white as a bride 
 rose with the morning freshness upon it. But her 
 dark blue eyes were sparkling, and once he heard her 
 laughter ring out, sweet and spontaneous as a child's. 
 Yet there was a suggestion of seriousness, of thought; 
 and at times there was a look of almost sadness, in 
 contrast to her spontaneous mirth, that gave to her a 
 certain aloofness, as if a veil had suddenly fallen about 
 her, and that seemed to assign her in all her glorious 
 youth to a place apart from the rest of those careless, 
 happy ones. 
 
 Roger Boiling watched her for a moment longer, 
 60
 
 THE COTILLION 
 
 and again that odd smile hovered about his lips. All 
 at once he turned abruptly and crossed the room in 
 the direction of the favor table. 
 
 " How do you do, Mrs. Beverley ? " he said. 
 
 The lady in black satin and lace finished with great 
 deliberation the assortment of drums and pipes and 
 silver horns she was making, stacking them into neat 
 little piles, and then, very slowly, and with the elegant 
 condescension of an empress deigning to bestow a 
 mark of favor upon the humblest of her minions, held 
 out her hand to the young man, who was waiting 
 somewhat awkwardly. 
 
 "Mr. Boiling," she murmured, with downcast eyes. 
 
 The daughter sat watching the two unconcernedly. 
 But, as Roger turned toward her, she broke into a 
 short laugh and shrugged her plump shoulders a trifle 
 defiantly, as in disregard of her mother's formality. 
 
 " I really was about to say ' Hello,' " she said. 
 
 " Were you ? Then why didn't you ? " asked Roger, 
 gravely. "Since we have discovered that we are 
 cousins is it fourth, or fifth ? I think such friend- 
 liness might be allowed in my direction. Don't you ? 
 And isn't it what every one says over the telephone ? " 
 
 She threw him a swift little upward glance, revealing 
 a latent coquetry that blended oddly with her brusque- 
 ness and, laughing still, made a seat for him on the 
 sofa by her side, sweeping away iier flounces of yellow 
 
 61
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 tulle with a dextrous movement of one hand. She 
 lowered her voice. 
 
 "But I am glad that I am not talking to you over 
 the telephone," she said, sweetly. " It would be too 
 tantalizing." 
 
 Roger threw back his head and laughed gaily. 
 
 "So this is one of the times when I'm in luck." 
 
 Again her shoulders went up in a shrug. 
 
 " I want somebody to talk to somebody besides 
 mama, and it might just as well be you." 
 
 "Oh, don't spoil it!" 
 
 "I'm not spoiling anything, but you are spoiling 
 something, and it's my pretty gown. There you've 
 caught your foot in it!" 
 
 He rose precipitately, aghast. 
 
 She bent her head over the billows of tulle, which 
 she had caught up, while he watched her anxiously. 
 
 Presently she leaned back on the sofa. But she did 
 not meet his eyes. 
 
 "Do sit down, Roger," she said, irritably. "It 
 strains my neck to talk to you. I have had no practice 
 in conversing with giraffes." 
 
 "But your gown?" he demanded, still disturbed. 
 " Have I done anything very dreadful to it ? " 
 
 "I can tell you better the extent of the havoc you 
 have made if you will sit down." 
 
 He took the seat beside her. " Now ! " he cried. 
 62
 
 THE COTILLION 
 
 She looked straight ahead of her. 
 
 " It is not serious," she said, dryly, " only a tiny tear 
 which can be easily mended, I hope. But in any case 
 I should forgive you. I want somebody to talk to 
 somebody besides mama. She is apt to grow weary 
 of my society, and you know it is not possible to be 
 interesting to the uninterested. I really am awfully 
 glad you have come. Every one is having too good a 
 time dancing to think about me, and I am so tired of 
 these idiotic fans and things. Did you ever see such 
 a mess ? " 
 
 "Judith, my dear," Mrs. Beverley put in, reprov- 
 ingly, " the favors are perfect very simple, it is true, 
 but perfect. Nothing is more vulgar than to turn an 
 occasion of this kind into an opportunity for costly 
 display. Sibyl has shown most excellent taste." 
 
 "She didn't this time, for she didn't buy them," 
 remarked the daughter, pertly. "That crazy little 
 Ike Morrison, who has got his head so turned to-night 
 that I'm positively uneasy for fear it will never be 
 straight again, selected them for her one day last week 
 when he was in Louisville. That's why she let him 
 lead. He's a perfect chump." 
 
 "A chump? What what is that?" Mrs. Bev- 
 erley looked from one to the other of the two young 
 people, with her head on one side, like a meditative 
 crow. Then something in the daughter's speech and
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 tone seemed to appeal to her sense of humor, which 
 was in reality peculiarly keen. She gave a brief glance 
 in the direction of the small, large-nosed, consequential 
 young gentleman, who in that moment was glaring 
 about the room with the eye of a general marshalling 
 his troops, looked again, nodded slowly once or twice, 
 and all at once broke into a fit of laughter, of which 
 no one who had not seen her thus amused would have 
 believed her capable. 
 
 Tears actually came into her eyes. It was something 
 to see Mrs. Beverley laugh. The combination of ele- 
 gance and abandonment to unrestrained mirth is a feat 
 rarely well accomplished. Mrs. Beverley suffered no loss 
 of dignity in the act; and when she hastily reached for a 
 delicate handkerchief of cobwebby lace and gently ap- 
 plied it to her streaming orbs, she was still the refined 
 and impressive personage that she was in repose. 
 
 The mood was apt to pass quickly, and it was not 
 surprising to see her handing out favors an instant 
 afterward to a waiting group without a trace of merri- 
 ment on her countenance. 
 
 Roger had watched the performance frequently, the 
 daughter's usual half sullen nonchalance affording him 
 an almost equal entertainment with that of the mother's 
 outbreak. 
 
 "But why are you not dancing?" he asked of the 
 girl, presently. 
 
 64
 
 THE COTILLION 
 
 "I can't; I've sprained my foot." 
 
 "Honest?" 
 
 She looked him squarely in the eyes for a moment, 
 and then reached for one of the trinkets on the table 
 before her, toying with it for an instant as if intent on 
 its workmanship. 
 
 "Oh, yes, that's perfectly honest," she said, at 
 length, demurely, and with a return of her former 
 coquetry. " I don't know what reason I should have 
 to prevaricate. I am very fond of dancing, and the 
 usual difficulty that is only too apt to present itself in 
 my case, this time was avoided. I had a partner 
 at least it was intended I should have all ready 
 made and highly satisfactory, so that I escaped for 
 once my usual attacks of palpitation of the heart for 
 fear no one should ask me. Sibyl had a most excellent 
 arrangement, and one worthy of imitation. Shouldn't 
 you like me to tell you who would have been your fate 
 had you arrived on time ? " 
 
 " I should, most assuredly." 
 
 At the mention of his young hostess's name Roger 
 looked quickly across the room, where a very pretty 
 scene was being enacted. A circle had been formed 
 of laughing girls and, in the center, bowing her 
 pretty head to receive a little golden crown that was 
 being placed upon it, stood Sibyl, the focus of all 
 eyes. 
 
 65
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 He watched her in a sort of abstraction, as com- 
 pletely forgetful of the girl beside him as if she were 
 removed to another hemisphere. The sudden click of 
 her fan as she closed it abruptly brought him to himself. 
 
 " Aren't you going to tell me ? " he asked, quickly, 
 conscious at last of his rudeness and endeavoring to 
 throw a special warmth into his manner by way of 
 conciliation. 
 
 But Judith Beverley was one not always easy to 
 conciliate. Her vanity had received a stab and, like 
 the average woman similarly wounded, she was dis- 
 posed to be resentful. 
 
 " Perhaps Sibyl will be able to tell you," she replied, 
 with a cold little laugh. "It was she who gave you 
 away." 
 
 She rose suddenly with somewhat exaggerated 
 alacrity. 
 
 "Here she comes now," she said.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 HEARTS ABEYANT 
 
 SHE was coming slowly. 
 
 The band had ceased playing, and a general move- 
 ment had taken place. There was to be an intermis- 
 sion, and already there was a hum of voices on the 
 porches and out on the lawn; and from the old-time 
 garden, sweet with mignonette and jasmine, light 
 girlish laughter blended with the splash of the fountain 
 and echoed down the fragrant aisles like a chime of 
 silver bells. Within, some of the more prosaically 
 inclined were wending their way toward the supper- 
 room, the doors of which had just been opened for a 
 continuous feast by a smiling and most obliging 
 functionary who, with his corps of sable attendants, 
 awaited the first arrivals with the confidence born of 
 repeated victory and the Kentucky darky's unshaken 
 pride in the matchless excellence of his viands. 
 
 As Sibyl passed down the long drawing-room toward 
 him, pausing now and then to throw a smile to one, a 
 word or two to another, Roger felt again that sudden 
 
 67
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 and unaccustomed sensation like an actual tightening 
 of the muscles about the heart, which he had no words 
 to define and which, with its piercing sadness, is apt to 
 assail the young man of ardent and impulsive temper- 
 ament who is yet on the borderland of love, in the 
 presence of the woman who has made the first appeal. 
 
 Hitherto he had escaped all boyish fancies. Even 
 in his Harvard days there had been no entanglements. 
 Life for him had been too distinctly earnest; and, 
 notwithstanding a particularly joyous and pleasure- 
 loving inclination, there was the sobriety that is speedily 
 developed in the case of one who in very early life has 
 been called to a trust, the responsibility that at once 
 invokes all the latent manliness and chivalry and 
 tenderness of which he may be capable, that of a boy 
 in relation to his widowed mother. 
 
 In some startling way the sense of reverence and 
 protection that he had so long felt toward the most 
 beautiful woman, for him, in all the world, now 
 seemed suddenly to be transferred to one more beau- 
 tiful still; and he stood disturbed, transfixed, intoxi- 
 cated, almost dreading the first spoken words and 
 longing to break the silken cords of an enthralment 
 from which he felt bound to escape. He scarcely 
 wished to know her better. 
 
 In reality he knew her but slightly although he 
 had known her always. When he was twenty-one and 
 
 68
 
 HEARTS ABEYANT 
 
 she but a girl of sixteen or thereabout he had left 
 Kentucky to enter upon his university career. Of the 
 seven years that had passed since then less than one 
 had been spent in his boyhood home. He was deeply 
 absorbed in his profession and, being considerably 
 burdened with cares growing out of a straitened 
 financial condition, it was his custom to go but little 
 into society; so that the few times they had met since 
 her return from college a short time previous, little 
 opportunity had been given of breaking down the 
 barrier of shyness which he was too prone to set up, 
 and which sometimes made anything more than a 
 surface acquaintance with him a decidedly difficult 
 thing. 
 
 But as she came toward him at this moment he felt 
 that there had taken place some subtle and mysterious 
 change in their relationship through the consciousness, 
 which each was intensely alive to, that this was to be 
 their last meeting, perhaps, for years. Every fiber of 
 his being kept reiterating the reminder. And all at 
 once something seemed to nerve him to a fuller expres- 
 sion of himself than he had ever before been capable 
 of with her. He advanced quickly, eagerly, to meet 
 her. 
 
 Her steps did not hasten, but there was a little 
 fluttering smile about her lips, warm, intimate, ap- 
 pealing, which sent the blood surging into his face. 
 
 69
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 She held up a small glittering object, dangling it before 
 him. 
 
 " Will you let me give you my heart ? " she said. 
 
 He looked her straight in the eyes, without speaking, 
 and then, as her gaze faltered, his glance fell upon the 
 trinket which suddenly, and with an expression of 
 playful earnestness, she was studying minutely. 
 
 "Wouldn't you be heartless if I did?" he asked, 
 smiling, yet grave. 
 
 "That's a very bad pun." 
 
 "But wouldn't you? And do you always throw 
 away the hearts that are given to you ? " 
 
 "I wasn't throwing this one away. Besides, it was 
 given too lightly to be fondly cherished." 
 
 "Is that why you were willing to bestow it upon 
 me?" 
 
 Her arm dropped to her side. 
 
 "'Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll 
 frown and be perverse, and say thee nay.' What do 
 you think?" 
 
 Her eyes were full of laughter and of raillery, and 
 all at once he met her challenge in a sort of reckless 
 abandon. 
 
 "I think," he cried, with impulsive ardor, "shall I 
 tell you what I think? I think that you are com- 
 pletely charming that is what I think. Oh, give it 
 to me!" 
 
 70
 
 HEARTS ABEYANT 
 
 She had clasped her hands behind her. They were 
 like two children in their delight in each other. 
 
 "Give it to me!" 
 
 "But if I do that, then I shall be heartless?" 
 
 "No; I will give you one in the place of it." 
 
 " One that some one has given to you ? " 
 
 Again she was dangling it. 
 
 He did not answer for a moment, and when he did 
 his face went suddenly white. 
 
 "No one ever gave me one," he said, simply, "yet 
 I will give one some day. It will not be made of 
 tinsel, and possibly it will be disclaimed. But it will 
 be worth having, if for no other reason than because 
 no one else ever did possess it before." 
 
 He reached out his hand to her and, with a low 
 laughter that ignored his seriousness, she dropped the 
 little heart-shaped thing into his palm. 
 
 But a faint color had risen in the clear white of her 
 face, and she threw a slightly nervous glance about the 
 room. The haughty leader had returned, and at his 
 command the musicians were tuning up. Gay couples 
 were hurrying in from outside. Among these, passing 
 the two near the doorway without the smallest recog- 
 nition of their presence and with a distinctly exagger- 
 ated absorption of manner, was Judith Beverley, 
 accompanied by a young man who had appeared just 
 before the intermission. They took their places. 
 
 71
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Sibyl's eyebrows arched with surprise. She looked 
 inquiringly from Roger to Judith, and then back again 
 to Roger. 
 
 " What does it mean ? " she asked. " I gave you to 
 her." 
 
 He whistled softly. Then his expression quickly 
 changed. 
 
 " Did you ? " he replied, gravely. " But you know 
 that what we will not have ourselves we can scarcely 
 expect another to value. You can see for yourself 
 that she is more than contented with my proxy." 
 
 There seemed to her nothing to do but to accept this. 
 
 "I didn't know that my most unwelcome society 
 was to be inflicted, and I have been commiserating 
 with her upon another misfortune altogether," he re- 
 marked, cheerfully. " Really, it is the most rapid case 
 of recovery from a sprained ankle I have ever seen." 
 
 There was such a total lack of resentment in the 
 tone that she smiled at his unconsciousness. But she 
 didn't tell him that it was at Judith's own suggestion, 
 strengthened by certain coquettish little hints of pro- 
 prietorship, it had been arranged that the two should 
 dance together. She turned away somewhat distantly. 
 
 "I don't quite understand," she said, "but I am 
 very sorry about it. I am afraid it is going to be 
 rather dreary for you all alone." 
 
 He took a step eagerly toward her. 
 72
 
 HEARTS ABEYANT 
 
 " It won't be," he cried, " if you will promise some- 
 thing." 
 
 The whistle sounded loudly, imperiously. She 
 moved away, but he followed. From across the room 
 a young man came hurrying toward them, his progress, 
 however, somewhat retarded by the merry crowd. 
 
 "Promise!" 
 
 She paused, and he caught her hand. " Promise t " 
 
 "But what am I to promise? You haven't even 
 told me." 
 
 Her eyes laughed back at his boyish tyranny in an 
 expression half mocking, yet sweet and indulgent. 
 
 " Promise that you will come back to me here 
 to this identical spot, the first, the very first moment 
 there is another intermission!" 
 
 For an instant she hesitated. Once more the whistle 
 sounded. Her eyelids faltered, and she looked quickly 
 away. 
 
 " I promise," she said. 
 
 He stood quite still just where she had left him. All 
 his senses were stirring, yet he was only vaguely con- 
 scious of the wild, impetuous throbbing of his heart 
 as his eyes followed her across the long room in an 
 intensity of gaze to which the whole machinery of his 
 being seemed to make contribution. He was under 
 the stress of an emotional excitement of the finer order; 
 
 73
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 but with him feeling had not yet passed into the highest 
 stage of harmony between its human and spiritual 
 elements. The music of the pleading violins gave 
 accent to his humor. The opulent odors of many 
 flowers ministered to the daring exuberance of his 
 mood. He wheeled suddenly and made his way 
 through the open doorway, his face set resolutely. 
 
 Out in the hall a grateful breeze was wandering, and 
 for a few moments he strode up and down, teased by 
 the sound of merriment from which he felt himself 
 excluded by the force of untoward circumstance. He 
 was boyishly disappointed. He wanted to dance with 
 Her, talk with Her, sit by Her side; and he wanted it 
 all in a way that startled, while it left him half ashamed 
 of his youthful ardors. In that moment he was not 
 eight-and-twenty he was barely eighteen. 
 
 Presently he bethought him of the judge's invitation. 
 He was not expected so soon, he knew, yet he felt 
 assured of a welcome; and if he might not be with 
 Sibyl herself, the next best thing just then was to be 
 with Sibyl's father, without doubt. A moment after- 
 wards he knocked softly on the door of the judge's 
 library. 
 
 He entered a large, airy room, in the center of which 
 there was a mahogany table on which a student's lamp 
 burned, its radiance lighting up an embarrassing dis- 
 array of books and papers and piled-up sheets of 
 
 74
 
 HEARTS ABEYANT 
 
 manuscript. Before the table, bolt upright in his high- 
 backed chair, the judge was sitting writing with great 
 enthusiasm and delight, his fine brow serene, his face 
 algow, and his hand moving over the rapidly filling 
 page with a nervous energy that bespoke a complete 
 absorption in his theme. 
 
 He had answered the knock mechanically, forgetting 
 in the next instant that he was not alone; but all at 
 once becoming conscious of that subtle something 
 that makes known another's presence even in the 
 midst of the most intimate concentration, he looked 
 up. Instantly the pen dropped from his hand, and he 
 rose. 
 
 "Ah, is it you, Roger?" he cried, with unruffled 
 courtesy, despite the interruption. "How long have 
 I kept you waiting, my boy ? Not long, I hope. You 
 see," he added, in a kind of shamed-faced acknowledg- 
 ment of his inattention, and in a tone of apology, "I 
 am apt I am apt to be a little absent-minded at 
 times a little absent-minded. I am growing old, I 
 fear. Ah, well, I find my heart grows young again in 
 the stirring scenes among which I have been roaming." 
 Then, as if drawn by an irresistible magnet, his glance 
 wandered back to his unfinished sentence. " Just five 
 more minutes, my boy just five!" he exclaimed, 
 quickly. " I am right in the midst of a serious business 
 here and, like Bach with his dominant seventh, I shall 
 
 75
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 have no peace if I leave off where I was. Pardon me. 
 Just five more minutes. Sit down." 
 
 Roger took the proffered seat without compunction. 
 The judge, he knew, was always at work upon one of 
 the nine volumes of Kentucky history he proposed to 
 write; and had Roger's visit not taken place until 
 several hours later he would no doubt have found the 
 energetic narrator of Kentucky events engaged with 
 the same "serious business" which long had occupied 
 his thoughts. Seldom anything short of a dire calam- 
 ity or positive illness could induce him to lay aside 
 his pen, and so small an occurrence as a dance under 
 his roof was surely not to be thought of as sufficient 
 excuse for an instant. 
 
 Presently the judge leaned back in his chair, and 
 with a long drawn " a h ! " laid down his pen. 
 
 Roger started. In truth he had been dreaming. 
 
 "Ah, Roger!" he exclaimed, with his charming 
 smile, "it is not a little task I have set myself. Nine 
 long volumes in all, and as yet I am only at the outset. 
 But the truth, the whole truth of history whoever 
 has been brave enough and good enough to write it! 
 Some one has said that in history nothing is true but 
 the names and the dates, whereas in fiction everything 
 is true but the names and the dates. Surely one who 
 has set before him the high endeavor of writing accu- 
 rately of his own countrymen is greatly embarrassed 
 
 76
 
 HEARTS ABEYANT 
 
 greatly embarrassed. To divest himself of all bias 
 and friendly preference; to approach his theme as a 
 sacred thing; to set down naught in malice, so that he 
 may escape the snare of Marshall, of whom it is true 
 that old scores, long slumbering, found such revengeful 
 settlement in his pages that his work has been practi- 
 cally given to oblivion all this, and very much more 
 than this, he must keep before him, if he would accom- 
 plish even the smallest part of the business of a faithful 
 historian." 
 
 Suddenly Judge Fontaine roused himself, and his 
 manner altered strangely. "My boy," he said, very 
 gravely, " when you recall the trials that your ancestors 
 endured to obtain this goodly land, does it not seem 
 meet that their descendants should dwell together in 
 unity ? " 
 
 Roger flinched, but did not answer, all at once 
 conscious of the drift. 
 
 "We leave, as you know," continued the judge, in 
 his chastened, formal style, " on the morrow, but before 
 I go there is something I feel overwhelmingly con- 
 strained to say to you. It concerns your grandfather, 
 Colonel Theophilus Hart." 
 
 Roger's face blackened. Had his recent client, the 
 reminiscent farmer, but seen him in that instant! He 
 was silent, and presently the judge rose, walked across 
 the room, and pulled aside a curtain from a window. 
 
 77
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 One solitary lamp burned dimly in a rear upper 
 chamber of the great lonely house opposite. He 
 pointed to it. 
 
 "It burns all night of late," he observed. "He is 
 daily growing feebler. I am convinced that his time 
 is short." 
 
 A moment afterward he laid a persuasive hand on 
 the young man's shoulder. 
 
 " Roger," he said, haltingly, " it is a delicate subject 
 to touch upon ah, a most delicate subject. But I 
 want you to promise me that you will make another 
 effort to be reconciled to your grandfather." 
 
 Roger's face was quickly turned away. His teeth were 
 set. The youthful glow had faded from his aspect. He 
 was something more than an angry boy. Secret springs 
 of powerful feeling seemed to have been touched. 
 
 " I am very sorry," he answered, stiffly, " but I will 
 never again enter his doors. I cannot easily forget 
 his insults to myself, but if I could, his course toward 
 my mother " 
 
 The judge came in firmly. "Ah, my son, but you 
 must try to understand. Put yourself in the place of 
 the old soldier. Remember that he never surrendered 
 at Appomattox, and that your mother's marriage to 
 the son of his dearest foe broke his heart. Yet he 
 loved your grandfather, I have reason to know, with a 
 devotion such as few can conceive of." 
 
 78
 
 HEARTS ABEYANT 
 
 He went back to his seat, and presently he remarked 
 in a complete change of tone, and quite carelessly: 
 
 "I don't know just how he is going to get along 
 without his 'little comforter,' as he calls Sibyl. She 
 spends as much as two hours of every day with him." 
 
 Roger started violently. A sudden flame swept 
 through him. He sat studying the rug at his feet, 
 speechless, supremely touched by the hitherto unknown 
 act of womanly sweetness which, as by a mere chance, 
 it seemed, had been revealed to him. 
 
 "It was at her request," continued the wily judge, 
 " that I have ventured to remind you of his loneliness." 
 
 Roger rose. His voice trembled a little when he 
 began. 
 
 " I hardly know, sir, how to thank you for your own 
 and your daughter's kindness if indeed I have any 
 right to thank you for what you have done." He 
 hesitated a moment, and went on, smiling grimly, "I 
 cannot hope that my efforts will be successful; but 
 please say to Miss Fontaine, if she should mention the 
 subject, that I have agreed to do what you suggest." 
 
 79
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 GOOD-BT 
 
 WHEN he made his way toward the drawing-room 
 a few moments later the band was still playing, and 
 the dance was at its height. Leaning against the jamb 
 of the doorway, he saw only Sibyl Fontaine. She had 
 grown whiter and stiller as the evening advanced; yet 
 there were no signs of langour in the healthful, elastic 
 form. As his gaze followed her, the realization of her 
 departure on the morrow smote him like a blow be- 
 tween the eyes. He felt a strange catch in the throat. 
 She was dancing, apparently, in complete forgetfulness 
 of his existence, although more than once her skirts 
 had swept his feet as she passed. A feeling of sadness, 
 the source ef which he did not seek to analyze, began 
 to steal over him, and the wail of the violins grew loud 
 and imperious. 
 
 He was turning away when a low voice spoke at his 
 elbow. Sibyl ! The name half rose to his lips with 
 all its pagan possibility, its serene silence, its tanta- 
 lizing mystery; and he felt as if he were in truth standing 
 
 80
 
 GOOD-BY 
 
 with bowed head in the presence of a prophetess who 
 alone might know his fate. 
 
 He saw her as in a mist of unreality. He heard her 
 low laughter as in a dream. Then all at once there 
 dawned upon him the reason why from the confused, 
 kaleidoscopic spectacle she had withdrawn herself, and 
 he understood that she was offering him the dance. 
 A light flashed from his eyes to hers. "Oh!" he 
 exclaimed. And then, without another word, he took 
 a hurried step toward her and, an instant afterward, 
 his arm was about her, and together they floated out 
 into the room, with smooth, rhythmic tread. 
 
 Was it a few moments only, or many, that the dance 
 lasted? He never knew. He was only conscious of 
 an exquisite sense of harmony as their steps blended 
 in perfect accord, an acute recognition of her nearness 
 that tingled in every fiber of him and was coupled with 
 an almost reverential awe of her; while there swept 
 through him, like the leap of a cataract, as he looked 
 down upon the small dark head that was held so 
 proudly, a mad, boyish wish that they might go on 
 thus forever to the music of the sobbing violins. 
 
 But it was not the intention of fate in the shape of 
 the cotillion leader that they should go on thus forever. 
 Young Mr. Morrison, who was a gastronomer (which 
 is a more civil term than a glutton, if less expressive), 
 being at last reminded by the pangs of hunger of the 
 
 81
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 savory viands that awaited his delectation in the supper- 
 room to the delights of which his labors had hitherto 
 made him oblivious gave the signal. 
 
 As the silver whistle sounded through the rooms, 
 there was a general uprising and outpouring in various 
 directions. The floor was speedily cleared. But still 
 Roger and Sibyl danced on. The musicians, with a 
 twinkle in their eyes, ignored the signal, their glances 
 wandering from the music before them to the two 
 supple figures, with crude but honest admiration. 
 
 When at last, with a grand flourish, the band ceased, 
 the two found themselves entirely alqne in the great 
 garlanded room. Not any other dancers on the floor, 
 not a belated couple anywhere. They stood facing 
 each other surprised and abashed. A delicate pink 
 rose in Sibyl's cheeks, and her eyes were shy and 
 downcast. But it was only for the briefest possible 
 space. She recovered her grasp almost instantly. Yet 
 she made no comment upon the unconventionality. Her 
 manner was only frankly cordial as she moved away. 
 
 " Shall we go into the garden ? " she asked. " It is 
 pleasanter there than on the lawn. The electric lights 
 attract all sorts of horrid little winged flying things. 
 ' The desire of the moth for the star ' is attended with 
 less annoyance. I can only stay a little while. I have 
 all these people to look after, and I know that that bad 
 little Judith isn't helping a bit." 
 
 82
 
 GOOD-BY 
 
 She led the way into the hall, and he followed saying 
 nothing. Her coolness and self-poise seemed wonderful 
 to him, yet his heart was still bounding with varied 
 emotions, and he would have preferred that she had 
 been a shade less composed. A moment afterward 
 she had gathered up her silver-spangled white illusion 
 gown, and together they were walking down one of the 
 little gravel paths of the moonlit garden toward a 
 bench under a wide-spreading tree. 
 
 " I mustn't forget to give you this," she said, reminded 
 that she still had his favor. " You know you disdained 
 my heart." 
 
 "I didn't disdain it. I've got it in my pocket. I 
 intend to keep it always," he answered, quickly. 
 
 She walked a few steps in silence. Then, as they 
 reached the bench, she paused, careened her pretty 
 neck and threw him a little backward, sidelong glance 
 that was half serious, half mocking. 
 
 " Always is a long time," she responded, with a sigh. 
 "Here is your little silver trumpet. I give it to the 
 conquering hero that is to be." 
 
 He took it eagerly, holding it up before him, and 
 examining its workmanship, with a whimsical expres- 
 sion on his strong young face. 
 
 "So you want me to blow my own trumpet?" he 
 inquired, gravely. "Perhaps that is because you are 
 afraid that otherwise it will not be blown. Well, I am 
 
 83
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 not sure but that the fellow who has learned how to 
 blow it for himself loud enough and long enough has 
 found out a way to succeed. It is one way. But I 
 scarcely thought it would be your way, and I don't 
 think I will try it." 
 
 She sat thinking a moment. " I don't care whether 
 you succeed or not," she said, presently, " as the world 
 counts success. But I do I do want you to deserve 
 to succeed, which is better than anything else I have 
 to give you in the way of good wishes. I have a good 
 many. I select that as the very best one of all as a 
 sort of parting benediction." 
 
 He looked at her strangely. 
 
 " Would it make would it make any difference to 
 you " He caught himself up with a start. Once 
 before that evening, to his own consternation, he had 
 found himself upon the verge of making love to her, if 
 he hadn't actually done it. Situated as he was in life, 
 the thing seemed inexcusable to him. He had certain 
 distinct, old-fashioned notions of the relations that 
 should be maintained between a young man and a 
 young woman, when freedom of expression is denied 
 the former, which the average person of his acquaint- 
 ance would have scoffed at. Yet he held to them; 
 and there were some things which he felt a man could 
 not do and remain a gentleman. Among these he 
 classed that breaking of the spirit of honor while the 
 
 84
 
 GOOD-BY 
 
 letter is rigidly adhered to which enables a man to 
 speak of love without binding himself to the obligation 
 that love implies; and for himself he felt that he had 
 no right to assume any greater obligations than those 
 to which he already owed allegiance. 
 
 But he was not actually in love with Sibyl Fontaine. 
 The feeling had not sunk down deep enough. He was 
 still able to reason a little about it, and even his inex- 
 perience told him that he was safe as long as he could 
 do that. But his whole being was going through an 
 awakening. For an instant a door had swung open, 
 and there had been revealed delights beyond his 
 imagining. It had fanned the latent flame of feeling 
 within him, which, a little more, would spread beyond 
 control. He knew that, and that there was need now 
 of the removal of all things ignitable from his thoughts 
 as never in all his life before. 
 
 " It is kind kind of you," he said, presently, in a 
 voice that he tried to make straightforward and natural, 
 "to care a little about my future. The thought of 
 your and your father's interest in me will mean much 
 to me in the hard struggle that is before me. I know 
 that it is going to be a hard struggle, handicapped as 
 I am at the outset by the need of money that old 
 harassment that has driven many a man into a corner 
 and compelled him to compromise with himself." 
 Suddenly he set his teeth hard. "But I shall not so 
 
 85
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 compromise. And I am going to succeed! It may 
 take ten years it may take twenty years before 
 I shall go beyond mere mediocrity in my profession. 
 Then let it. I shall work and wait. If energy, and 
 perseverance, and singleness of purpose mean any- 
 thing, and I know that in most cases they mean every- 
 thing, I shall some day accomplish what I set out to do." 
 
 " And that is " 
 
 She was studying him intently. Her manner had 
 grown serious, with much of its girlishness fled. For 
 the moment she was a woman, earnest, thoughtful, and 
 she seemed to be throwing her whole soul into a con- 
 sideration of his affairs. The reminder of her depart- 
 ure was a constantly recurrent note. It had established 
 at once a sort of intimacy between them which otherwise 
 months might not have accomplished forced the 
 growth of their friendship, as it were, so that it almost 
 bloomed a perfect flower in the course of a single night. 
 She was very beautiful as she turned her face toward 
 him in the moonlight. 
 
 " And that is " she repeated. 
 
 He threw back his head and laughed a trifle ner- 
 vously. 
 
 " That is to be a good lawyer for one thing. Some- 
 times the thought of it is over me to such an extent I 
 am half afraid that in being that, as I surely shall be, 
 I shall not be anything else." 
 
 86
 
 GOOD-BY 
 
 "But there is something else?" 
 
 She could not see the flush that mounted slowly to 
 his temples, but she realized his hesitation, and under- 
 stood it. He was finding it a little difficult to touch 
 upon the highest aims of his secret soul. 
 
 "Yes; there is something else," he answered, finally, 
 " and that is to be in a large sense a Man, with all that 
 that may mean." 
 
 Her face kindled with enthusiasm. 
 
 "To think of it, to want to be it, to strive to be it, 
 that is to be it already," she said in a low voice. 
 
 She sat tapping the turf with the toe of one little 
 white satin slippered foot, her head thrown back and 
 her gaze resting absently upon the picturesque pano- 
 rama about her. Under the thick green foliage the 
 girls in their white gowns looked like softly draped, 
 moving statues as the moonlight fell upon them. The 
 garden breathed enchantment. Near by there was a 
 bed of lilies; not far away a clump of elder nodded in 
 the silvery light; rose geranium, sweet pease, carna- 
 tions, with a hundred other scented flowers, made the 
 place heavy with perfume, while a wild tangle of 
 honeysuckle and grapevine and Virginia creeper filled 
 it with delicious shadows. It was an old, old garden, 
 with perennials and annuals, peonies and bachelors' 
 buttons, gillyflowers and marigolds, arbors and trel- 
 lises a spot which the judge and his daughter, 
 
 87
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 with their strain of Gallic blood, loved above all 
 others. 
 
 " There is only one pitfall for you," she said, after a 
 while. Her expression had changed. It was half 
 rougish, yet there lingered a sedateness. 
 
 He turned, expectant. 
 
 " You know you are a wee bit impulsive ? " 
 
 He acknowledged it. 
 
 "And just a trifle headstrong?" 
 
 He looked rueful, preferring to hear something more 
 like praises from her lips. 
 
 "If you happen to want a thing, even though that 
 thing may not be the best thing, the right thing for 
 you" 
 
 " But the pitfall ! " he cut in almost rudely. 
 
 "You may fall in love." 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 She too did not speak for a moment, and when she 
 did her voice was very low and sweet and earnest. 
 
 " If you should make a mistake there," she said, " it 
 would go hard with you harder than with most. 
 I am prophetess enough to know that." 
 
 A light leaped into his eyes. For an instant the 
 entire round of his future seemed to stand still, while 
 Destiny waited. He opened his mouth and quickly 
 closed his lips again. A hundred invisible hands were 
 urging him; a hundred voices were whispering in his 
 
 88
 
 GOOD-BY 
 
 ears. His whole being cried out for her. Yet he 
 neither spoke nor stirred. For once he was not 
 impulsive. She changed the subject abruptly. 
 
 "It was not very nice of your Mr. Waller to select 
 the evening of my dance for his departure. Do you 
 think it was?" 
 
 He gave a sudden start, like one roused cruelly. 
 But he answered lightly. 
 
 "He was very sorry. It seems that he had already 
 arranged to go East on this particular evening with the 
 beloved manuscript. I do believe he'd step over the 
 dead bodies of all of us if his publishers were on 
 the other side; and that is the pleasant remark I made 
 to him when I said good-by at the station. But is he 
 my Mr. Waller? I thought he was yours." 
 
 "Mine? Oh, no. He is a romanticist, and a 
 romanticist belongs only to himself." 
 
 " And what on earth is a romanticist ? " 
 
 "A romanticist isn't anything on the earth. It is a 
 being that inhabits a sphere that floats midway between 
 earth and heaven, an ethereal region wherein the actual 
 never occurs and is never desired." 
 
 Roger's eyes twinkled with amusement. He whistled 
 softly to himself as the picture rose before his mind's 
 eye of a rather heavily built man of five-and-thirty, 
 faultlessly dressed, with an amber-colored beard, cut 
 pointed, a slight tendency to baldness, and persistent 
 
 89
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 eyeglasses. It seemed on the whole a rather unsub- 
 stantial abode for his friend Waller, poet, novelist, and 
 bon vivant. But he only remarked tentatively: 
 
 "He told me that he read portions of the new book 
 to you." 
 
 Sibyl hesitated. "Yes. It is very beautiful, beau- 
 tiful as a Grecian idyl, but with a difference. He made 
 me think of Theocritus now and then. Only Theoc- 
 ritus lived it all, loved it all, meant it all, centuries ago." 
 
 He was completely startled. Her delicate charac- 
 terization of the man of whom recently he had seen 
 much quite took his breath away. It was so clear cut 
 and so decisive it revealed not only the keenness of 
 insight which might have come through her college 
 training, but it implied a dignity of soul that was not 
 to be overthrown by flattery. Moreover it seemed 
 particularly wonderful to him because it chimed in 
 with his own awakening thought. But even yet he 
 scarcely felt that he knew Waller. Several weeks 
 before the litterateur had swooped down upon the old 
 town from his home in Cincinnati, made himself com- 
 pletely fascinating to many persons, selected Roger as 
 a boon companion from the first moment of their 
 acquaintance, and finally departed leaving behind the 
 wide-spread rumor that he had wholly lost his heart to 
 Sibyl Fontaine. 
 
 Roger was more relieved than he was willing to 
 90
 
 GOOD-BY 
 
 admit to himself by her tone. It was too calmly 
 critical for sentiment. Yet it was without a shade of 
 unkindness. Francis Waller had first attracted, then 
 puzzled, and finally repelled him, the finishing stroke 
 in the way of disillusion having occurred that evening 
 when something in the artificiality of the man had 
 jarred upon the young Kentuckian's sincere, healthful 
 nature and more vigorous mentality. 
 
 " Do you always read people as clearly as you have 
 read Waller ? " he asked, a little awkwardly. 
 
 "But he is not diflScult." 
 
 "He was for me at first; and he is still, for the 
 matter of that. I lack your intuition." 
 
 She turned her face toward him and smiled as indul- 
 gently as if she were speaking to a little child. 
 
 "He is of a type that is new to you, that is all," she 
 responded, at last. "Yet it is an old one and it is 
 constantly reappearing. He is of the class that Shelley, 
 and Poe, and Rossetti belong to with only a small 
 part of their genius. In other words, he is a roman- 
 ticist." All at once her tone grew grave and even 
 anxious. 
 
 " But you understand him now a little better than 
 you did ? " she asked, quickly. She seemed trying in 
 an almost heartless way to enforce an opinion, in order 
 that she might set him to thinking; and womanlike she 
 saw only the one object before her. 
 
 91
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 But Roger's sense of loyalty of man to man made it 
 impossible for him to say more. The acquaintance 
 had been almost thrust upon him, in a way; but he had 
 yielded, and he felt bound to silence where he could 
 not praise. He made an evasive answer. And then, 
 suddenly, the image of the man, who all unwittingly 
 to either was destined to play a most tragic part in the 
 future life of one, became blurred and indistinct 
 lost in a more immediate contemplation. 
 
 He leaned toward her. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "if 
 only I could talk to you about life, about the people I 
 meet, about everything! You are so wise and so 
 thoughtful ; you are not like any other girl I ever knew. 
 But you are going away!" 
 
 She moved back a little and turned her face from 
 him, but her voice sounded sweet and soothing. 
 
 "Yes; I am going away, and I am sorry that I am 
 going. I am not sure that my father isn't sorry, too. 
 But it will be possible to study genealogies and write 
 Kentucky history, with the extensive notes he has, 
 almost anywhere, and that reconciles me. But I am 
 going to please him, and he is going to please me, and 
 I half suspect that we are like two old people who 
 lived all their life in the country, out of deference to 
 each other's wishes, only to discover when they were 
 about to die that each would have preferred to live in 
 town." 
 
 92
 
 GOOD-BY 
 
 She spoke a trifle hurriedly, as if warding off a 
 danger; and it was evidently her intention as much as 
 his to steer his thoughts clear of the hazardous. Yet 
 there was an intensity in the very air they breathed; in 
 the languorous odors of the flowers; in the fall of the 
 shadows across the moonlit sward. 
 
 "Wasn't it a sudden determination?" he asked, 
 after a while, unable to keep the regret out of his 
 voice. 
 
 " A week ago we hadn't even thought of it." 
 
 A wave of rebellion swept over him. 
 
 " But must you go ? Why need you ? It is not too 
 late to reconsider. Talk it over with the judge again. 
 You can telegraph to New York about your passage. 
 Tell him tell him " 
 
 She smiled a little sadly at his vehemence, but she 
 came in firmly. 
 
 " It is too late. We are surely going. But if we had 
 stayed, I think I think we should have been such 
 good friends. We were just beginning to know each 
 other." 
 
 He could not speak. He sat staring at her dumb 
 and helpless, too acutely conscious that something fine 
 and beautiful, which had for one instant touched his 
 life, was about to vanish to find words. 
 
 She rose, avoiding his eyes. 
 
 "I am going to say good-by to you now," she said.
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "There will not be another chance to talk to-night. 
 And don't come to the station to-morrow. I want to 
 say good-by to you here in this old garden where the 
 happiest days of my life have been spent." 
 
 He stood by her side and took her hand and held it 
 closely for an instant. Then all at once he dropped 
 it almost roughly. He wanted to say so much yet 
 he felt he should say nothing. The future, dark, un- 
 known, beset with many difficulties, seemed to rise 
 threateningly before him. He thought that in all honor 
 it should compel him to silence. It was a moment big 
 with meaning for them both. 
 
 " Good-by," she said, and mechanically he answered, 
 "Good-by." 
 
 She moved slowly toward the house. But when she 
 had gone a few paces from him she turned and looked 
 back. He was standing just where she had left him, 
 not moving a muscle. 
 
 She quickly retraced her steps. She came quite up 
 to him. And then, as frankly and sweetly as a little 
 girl might have done it, once more she held out her 
 hand. 
 
 " Be a good boy," she said, as his fingers closed over 
 hers. 
 
 And in an instant afterward she was gone. 
 
 94
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 TEN days later Mrs. Caldwell and her husband 
 returned. The latter, whom Marian had never seen, 
 and whose position in his own household she soon 
 discovered was voluntarily more of the nature of an 
 appendage than an ally, proved to be a big blonde man 
 of thirty-eight or forty, distinctly lazy, with an expres- 
 sion of countenance that was almost infantile in its 
 bland sincerity, a manner that was noisily hospitable, 
 and a tendency to embellish his conversation with 
 reference to incidents in the lives of distinguished 
 Kentuckians of the past and of the present which she 
 immediately proceeded to nip in the bud. For motives 
 of her own she had thought it advisable to put up with 
 a little of that sort of peculiarity from Roger Boiling 
 and a few older people she had met, but she saw no 
 reason why the usual local characteristic should be 
 flattered into continuance in the case of a person too 
 amiably inclined to resent her lack of interest. She 
 was not sure that he didn't think her a fool, however. 
 
 95
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 But she was at no pains to dispossess him of that 
 opinion, which he had evidently formed in the first 
 
 hour of their acquaintance, when she had been left 
 
 
 alone with him, while his more energetic spouse busied 
 
 herself with important matters. 
 
 The little woman was all a-tremble. The melan- 
 choly event that had been anticipated had occurred. 
 Her husband's brother, after lingering for a week, had 
 died; and from the depressing scenes she had witnessed 
 she came fluttering back to her nest like a frightened 
 bird that has encountered the fowler in its flight, and 
 been startled in the midst of its glad warblings by seeing 
 a companion fall. She had known the dead man but 
 slightly, yet her tender heart had been touched; and 
 while her distress was mainly for the grief of her 
 beloved Tim, as she called her husband regardless 
 of the fact that his name was Tobias and not Timothy 
 it was genuine in its way, and sufficient to enshroud 
 her plump form in most unbecoming black. 
 
 This had involved something of a sacrifice. She had 
 just escaped being a beauty; and she was shrewd 
 enough to know her insufficiency, and to seek to dis- 
 guise it by wearing very picturesque hats and gowns 
 that atoned by their exquisite daintiness and elegance 
 for the sallowness of her complexion and her quite 
 ordinary dark brown hair. The latter, which was of 
 the stiff and wiry kind, only with difficulty could be 
 
 96
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 persuaded into a pompadour, and Mrs. Caldwell de- 
 plored her shortcoming in this particular more than 
 if it were a serious moral blemish. The fact is she 
 was not given to any of those secret probings whereby 
 cognizance may be taken of spiritual flaws. The strain 
 of Calvinism which exists, and is often more or less 
 dominant, with many of the Kentucky people, despite 
 an obviously light-hearted and volatile temperament, 
 was wholly absent from her. She was without con- 
 sciousness of a weight of sin, or of any greater moral 
 obligation than was implied in her unthinking attitude 
 of universal kindness. But she was one of those beings 
 who, though seemingly without a purpose, help on the 
 world so bravely that one unconsciously places them in 
 a category to which they do not belong. Her very 
 presence breathed solace, and exhaled sweetness like 
 a flower. 
 
 Her liking for Marian Day had its source in com- 
 miseration rather than affinity. In truth, it would be 
 difficult to think of two organisms more distinctly 
 opposite save in one particular, and that was a sensuous 
 delight in ease that was strong enough with each of the 
 two women to make existence without bodily comfort 
 seem a torture. One had had always a nest lined with 
 reposeful, downy, pleasant things that made life pass 
 as smoothly as a series of happy dreams; the other had 
 had scarcely a nest at all, but only an insecure perch 
 
 97
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 on some bleak twig that threatened to break with 
 every gust that swept it. 
 
 When, a year before, Mrs. Caldwell met the odd 
 girl exhausted from the strain of teaching and even 
 threatened with ill health, despite her vitality and 
 strong resilience at the quiet little Kentucky summer 
 resort where the two had passed a few weeks together, 
 her heart had warmed to her instantly; and there had 
 then sprung up a sort of intimacy that had continued 
 throughout the twelvemonth, finally resulting in the 
 invitation for which, if Marian had been given to 
 prayer, her whole being would have lent itself in pas- 
 sionate, clamorous appeal. As it was she simply 
 longed for it ceaselessly in the school-room, while 
 she paced with impatient, pantherish movement up 
 and down her small confines, in the cheerless bedroom 
 of the farmhouse where she boarded, with its hideous 
 American oak furniture and ingrain carpet, or out 
 under the open skies, where alone she felt herself not 
 a captive. 
 
 Strongly impressed with the idea that the world 
 owed her much in spite of the fact that it had persist- 
 ently doled her out but little, she had clung, in the 
 midst of all restrictions, to a belief in her own inherent 
 force and the potency of her beauty, never for one 
 moment having lost faith in either, or in what as the 
 result of a combined effort they might do for her. It 
 
 98
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 had appeared that an opportunity had come at last, 
 and her brain had teemed with potentialities one 
 above all others. So that to her self-centered view it 
 had seemed a hard blow, one of those merciless acts of 
 fate that made her feel herself a mere puppet in the 
 hands of a malevolent power, when Death cut short 
 her anticipations, forced her hostess into retirement, 
 and herself into the formulation of a plan of action 
 limited and in some respects distasteful. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell was regretful, but helpless. What 
 was even more discouraging to poor Marian, still 
 clutching at straws, she was resigned. The various 
 plans she had formed having been frustrated, the 
 healthful but distinctly commonplace mind of the 
 little woman immediately proceeded to adjust itself to 
 existing conditions. The visit must necessarily be a 
 quiet one that, of course, was to be accepted at 
 once but she hoped by a particularly careful atten- 
 tion to all details relating to the physical enjoyment of 
 her guest to make the time pass pleasantly, in spite of 
 the disappointment; and she trusted to the luxurious 
 living she was able to offer to compensate in a measure 
 for the loss of more exciting experience. 
 
 Breakfast was to be deferred an hour every day, by 
 way of carrying out the idea in one direction, and 
 the servants were required to move with lightest foot- 
 fall about the house lest Marian's repose should be 
 
 99
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 disturbed. Then, an elaborate menu for each meal was 
 devised, and countless other minutiae of a similar kind 
 considered with which ordinarily Mrs. Caldwell was 
 not wont especially to concern herself, her Tim's taste 
 being of the simplest. All of which Marian Day, 
 though by no means averse to such amenities, found 
 intensely irritating, under the existing state of things. 
 
 On the morning after the Caldwells' return, the two 
 women were still loitering in the little green and white 
 breakfast-room, where the usual bountiful repast with 
 which the Kentuckian begins his day had been far 
 surpassed by the delicious meal that had been served. 
 It was after ten, and Mr. Caldwell, having attempted 
 a languid joke or two followed by an ever ready anec- 
 dote (to all of which Marian had turned an unrespon- 
 sive countenance), had finally betaken himself to his 
 law office, mindful, if not of numerous clients awaiting 
 him, at least of the pleasant friends who doubtless 
 would drop in, as the day advanced, to offer expression 
 of condolence and chat over the latest news of the 
 town and of the state. 
 
 As his heavy footfall echoed down the shady walk to 
 the gate, Mrs. Caldwell sprang to the window, drew 
 back a corner of the blind, and watched him lovingly. 
 A little gleeful laugh broke from her, and the movement 
 was spontaneous as a child's. He saw her and waved 
 his hand to her, and she kissed hers in return. A smile 
 
 100
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 was still lingering about her lips when she came back, 
 airily trailing her white dimity morning dress, which 
 the privacy of her own breakfast table had permitted 
 her to wear in exchange for the ugly black reserved for 
 more formal occasions. Her spirits were somewhat 
 recovered after the night's rest; and she was like a fine 
 bit of porcelain bric-a-brac in her Watteau-like gown, 
 as she again seated herself in one of the high-backed 
 chairs, pushed away the laces of her elbow sleeves, 
 and then leaned her plump arms on the table and 
 clasped her hands. 
 
 "You mustn't mind him, dearie," she said, with her 
 pretty lisp; "he simply can't help teasing every one 
 he knows. He even attempted a joke once with 
 Colonel Theophilus Hart, Roger's grandfather. If 
 you had seen the indignant stare the insulted old 
 gentleman gave him, you'd have thought he'd been 
 cured for life. He just wasn't. But he has let you 
 off easily. He is not himself." 
 
 Marian groaned inwardly; the prospect of what 
 awaited her when Tim should be himself again was 
 not alluring. 
 
 "He really is so distressed," continued Mrs. Cald- 
 well, "broken-hearted, my dear. He loved his brother 
 better than any body in all the world after me, and 
 oh, " the brown eyes began filling with tears, " it 
 was all so sudden, and so sad and so pitiful!" 
 
 101
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Sympathy not being at Marian's command, there 
 was silence. Mrs. Caldwell leaned her cheek against 
 her hands. After a while she looked up. 
 
 "Now tell me a little about yourself," she said, 
 resolutely. " Whom did you meet at the Boilings' ? " 
 
 Marian stifled a yawn. 
 
 " I met a very imposing personage and her daughter. 
 The mother looked and held herself as if her rightful 
 place had been a throne. The daughter had the 
 manner of a pert little lady's maid in a second-rate 
 play. They drove up in all their grandeur and swept 
 into Mrs. Boiling's with an air that rapidly reduced 
 me to the condition of the Queen of Sheba after she 
 had surveyed the glories of Solomon. There was no 
 more spirit in me." 
 
 "Judith and Mrs. Beverley!" shrieked Mrs. Cald- 
 well, choking with laughter. 
 
 " I liked the mother," coolly observed Marian, taking 
 one of the long-stemmed roses from the bowl on the 
 table, and ruthlessly pulling it to pieces. "I thought 
 she was well, the real thing." 
 
 "They are extremely nice people, my dear," re- 
 marked Mrs. Caldwell, very seriously, and with a 
 hint of caution. 
 
 Marian flung away the rose. "The daughter is a 
 spiteful little cat," she commented, carelessly. "And 
 she has atrocious manners. She plumped herself down 
 
 102
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 into the most comfortable chair in the room, fixed her 
 eyes on a photograph of Mr. Boiling that happened to 
 be on the table, and proceeded to ply me with more 
 questions about him than I could have answered if she 
 had given me a week or a life-time." 
 
 "Poor girl! She is simply daft about Roger. And 
 the dear boy hasn't even a suspicion." 
 
 "Don't you believe it. If she is daft about him, 
 depend upon it he has a suspicion. Men are not so 
 innocent." 
 
 " At any rate he has never shown her anything more 
 than ordinary civility, I am perfectly sure of that. 
 Roger is not of the flirtatious kind." 
 
 "Perhaps his affections are already ensnared," sug- 
 gested Marian, enigmatically. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell started violently, and gave the girl a 
 searching glance. Of course Marian's reference could 
 not be to herself. But a little secret fear seemed all at 
 once to rise up and confront her, and she was conscious 
 of a misgiving. She thought of Mrs. Boiling, suave, 
 unapproachable, as fixed in her inward purpose as in 
 her outward conventionality, and the feeling of uneasi- 
 ness deepened. 
 
 "Oh, doubtless you have heard the rumor about 
 him and Sibyl Fontaine, "she said, a trifle nervously, 
 but tentatively. 
 
 Marian bit her lips and looked away. 
 103
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " I have heard nothing," she said. 
 
 " The fact is," observed Mrs. Caldwell, quickly, with 
 illy attempted lightness, " Roger is scarcely so situated 
 at present to take unto himself a wife and I don't believe 
 he is thinking of anything of the kind. But it would be 
 a very delightful consummation both to Mrs. Boiling 
 and Judge Fontaine if Sibyl and he should some day 
 fancy each other. Sibyl is the loveliest girl you ever 
 saw, my dear. I wish you might have known her." 
 
 An impatient flush had swept into Marian's cheek, 
 but she only drummed lightly on the table with her 
 fingers and waited for Mrs. Caldwell to proceed. 
 
 The latter shrank perceptibly under the cool, in- 
 quiring gaze that was leveled upon her. 
 
 "It isn't that Roger hasn't been remarkably suc- 
 cessful," she declared, with a slight change of base. 
 " Oh, I wouldn't have you misunderstand about that, 
 my dear, for anything. It would do him a great 
 injustice, and I am devoted to him. He really is 
 wonderful, so thoughtful and steady, and such a 
 splendid worker. Tim says all the lawyers speak well 
 of him, and he really is regarded as the most prom- 
 ising man of his age at the bar. He seldom goes any- 
 where, and he just studies, studies, studies all the time. 
 But of course he is still only at the first stage of his 
 profession, and the law is not a gold mine, as Tim and 
 I have reason to know." 
 
 104
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 She broke off with a little laugh and then, before 
 Marian could say anything, began again, deliberately 
 keeping the ball in her own hands. 
 
 "His mother simply adores him. She is intensely 
 ambitious for him, and she thinks he is already a great 
 man. I am not sure that I don't agree with her. 
 There is something oh, don't you know so big 
 and earnest and and hopeful about Roger. He 
 makes you feel as if the world were young again, and 
 life offered a boundless opportunity for every living 
 thing. Down in your secret soul you may doubt it, 
 but you don't doubt it when you are with him. He is 
 a tonic to the disappointed." 
 
 An odd smile flitted across Marian's features. 
 
 " I think he is a little like that," she assented. 
 
 " But of course his future is a most uncertain thing," 
 Mrs. Caldwell supplemented, hurriedly. "They have 
 had many reverses. His father's affairs were a good 
 deal complicated, and in recent years they have been 
 compelled to practise a most tiresome economy. Tim 
 says that since Roger took the management of the 
 situation into his own hands their prospects seem 
 brighter. They had always been wealthy people, as 
 we count wealth in the South, and it has been hard for 
 Mrs. Boiling to know how to resort to some of the 
 makeshifts that poverty compels one to. But no one 
 ever heard a complaint from her. 'De thorybreds 
 
 105
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 goes wid dey haids up till dey drap,' is what an old 
 darky once said, and it certainly is applicable to Mrs. 
 Boiling. You know Colonel Hart disinherited her 
 when she married Roger's father. Old pepper-box! 
 He has between five and six hundred thousands 
 which is riches for Kentucky; but not a red cent is to 
 be looked for from him." 
 
 And having said as much the little woman leaned 
 back in her chair and heaved a sigh of relief. After 
 all, she did have a conscience. But at the moment it 
 was being exercised more in relation to her friends the 
 Boilings than to Marian Day. As far as Marian was 
 concerned what she had said had been rather in the 
 nature of an appeal than of a warning. She shared 
 the girl's confidence in herself, little doubting the 
 potency of the most intense and vivid personality she 
 had ever known; and she herself had to such an 
 extent come under the spell of its fascination as to 
 dread its strength a little when exerted for masculine 
 admiration. So she had kept back nothing. And 
 while her high breeding revolted from such discus- 
 sion of her friends, she had felt that there was no 
 escape. 
 
 She sat tapping the floor with her tiny French-heeled 
 slipper, feeling particularly virtuous. She even hummed 
 a little air to herself, as she watched a ray of sunlight 
 tangling itself in Marian's luxuriant auburn hair. All 
 
 106
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 at once she leaned over and kissed the girl softly on 
 the cheek. 
 
 " I love you ! " she exclaimed, " and how could any- 
 body help it?" 
 
 There was something in the girl's tropical beauty, 
 the soft tints of her beautiful flesh, her volcanic nature 
 smouldering under her sullen silences, and the per- 
 petual warring of her spirit against the indignities that 
 life had offered, which Mrs. Caldwell felt and responded 
 to, without even dimly comprehending what such 
 things stood for or realizing that their effect upon 
 herself was distinctly sensuous. Marian was a mystery 
 she had not sought to solve; and she was in no sense 
 an analyst. 
 
 " Did you ever hear of Francis Waller ? " she inquired, 
 presently, with an air of carelessness that was intended 
 to give the impression that no motive, none, whatever, 
 was back of anything she had just said in reference to 
 Roger Boiling and his affairs. "I mean as an indi- 
 vidual, of course, not as an author." 
 
 Marian's face took on a peculiar expression. She 
 was finding Mrs. Caldwell most amusingly transparent, 
 but she gave no sign. She did not answer for a mo- 
 ment and, when she did, her voice was low and tense, 
 and her reply was very much to the point. 
 
 " I have heard of him," she said, " and I have read 
 all of his books, every line of them, every word of 
 
 107
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 them. I have even read every little scrap of prose or 
 verse he has ever published that isn't in a book. I am 
 always looking out for him in the magazines, and I 
 have wanted to know him more than anybody I ever 
 heard of in all my life." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Caldwell, opening her eyes 
 wide, "Oh!" 
 
 She twisted her rings nervously and looked disturbed. 
 "How strange!" she exclaimed, at length, "How very 
 strange that you should think of him like that, when it 
 is precisely " all at once she broke off "but of 
 course it is no good going back to anything of that 
 kind now." 
 
 Her practical mind would have dismissed the subject 
 at once, but Marian persisted. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she inquired, quickly. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell broke into a laugh. She turned her 
 head to one side, and looked at Marian archly. " Before 
 before all my little schemes vanished into air, I had 
 thought to have him here quite a good deal this summer. 
 He is in Lexington off and on, visiting people he 
 knows in the town, or at some of the country places, 
 and he has just been here. But his own home is in 
 Cincinnati." 
 
 "Yes; I know," said Marian. A deep glow was 
 burning in her cheeks, and her eyes were eagerly 
 insistent. 
 
 108
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 " It is the most beautiful place, my dear," remarked 
 Mrs. Caldwell, carelessly, "quite a palace. And he 
 is all alone not a near relative in the world, he 
 told me, except a married sister who lives in New 
 York." 
 
 "I know," said Marian again. 
 
 " I have sometimes wondered why he is still unmar- 
 ried," mused Mrs. Caldwell. "If you could just see 
 that house, my dear!" 
 
 Marian looked up. "I have seen it," she replied. 
 " I once drove by it with a friend. It is something to 
 remember and to dream of, just from the outside 
 even." 
 
 A servant entered with letters, and Mrs. Caldwell 
 reached forth a hand mechanically. 
 
 "It is more beautiful still on the inside, I am told. 
 I have never been there, though he has often invited 
 me. He had planned to have me come this summer 
 and bring you for a week, with a gay house party he 
 intended to have, and I had accepted. Of course 
 afterwards I had to decline for myself, but I meant to 
 send you. Then, when he found I was not to be 
 depended on, he changed his mind about the house 
 party altogether, and now he writes me from the East 
 that he doesn't know when he'll be back in Kentucky 
 again." 
 
 She was still rummaging among the letters, her 
 109
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 thoughts, with characteristic readiness, shifting imme- 
 diately to other things at sight of the half-dozen mis- 
 sives she should have to answer. 
 
 "None for you, Marian. Shall you mind if I look 
 over these ? Here is one from an old, old lady, Tim's 
 great-aunt, who lives in Richmond, Virginia. She 
 remembers everything that ever happened since the 
 flood, and she is rather entertaining. Out of deference 
 to age, I suppose I shall have to read hers first. I 
 wrote to her from Frankfort, telling her of our sorrow, 
 and about you, and oh, lots of things. You see she 
 appreciated it. She replied at once, and she has sent 
 me a volume." 
 
 Marian rose. At the end of the room there was a 
 little glass door leading by a flight of steps into the 
 garden. She gave a strange glance at Mrs. Caldwell, 
 who was already absorbed in her letter, completely 
 forgetful of all else, and then crossed the room quickly, 
 passing out by way of the little glass door. She could 
 scarcely have trusted herself to speak, and she wanted 
 to be alone. There was a vine-covered summer-house 
 in the garden, and she made her way to it, with the 
 instinct of a wounded animal. 
 
 Hot, bitter tears were blinding her eyes. A sense of 
 passionate rebellion gnawed at her breast and filled 
 her with impotent rage against Mrs. Caldwell, her 
 destiny, everything in life. For one little moment, it 
 
 110
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 seemed, the wheel of fortune had hesitated. Then 
 it had revolved and the glittering prize she longed for 
 had appeared, only to vanish an instant afterward, 
 leaving her startled, maddened with disappointment, 
 and desperate. 
 
 She sat down on the bench in the summer-house and 
 clasped her hands, staring straight ahead of her and 
 recalling word by word all that had just been said. 
 Picture after picture rose before her of what might 
 have been. Her old, unhappy past seemed to fade 
 away, and she lost herself in contemplation of the 
 gilded existence which she felt had almost been hers. 
 Her heart was pounding heavily, and her cheeks were 
 flushed. One moment she was all fire and spirit and 
 audacity, confident to her very finger-tips; the next 
 defeat, dejection showed in every muscle of her volup- 
 tuous form, in every line of her beautiful face. She 
 felt herself strong to cope with circumstance, yet 
 powerless in the hands of fate. 
 
 The garden was very small, consisting only of a 
 flower-bed or two, several fruit trees and a few shrubs, 
 and the near-by voices of the servants at work in the 
 kitchen and in the laundry jarred painfully on her 
 strained nerves. Everything jarred: the little plot 
 smiling like a happy child in the merry sunshine; the 
 bees humming in the honeysuckle vines; the birds 
 carolling in the fruit trees. No blight had fallen on 
 
 111
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 leaf or flower to frustrate nature's promises. The 
 sight of such fulfilment only drove her to a more 
 miserable revolt. 
 
 She had been there but a little while when some- 
 thing happened that gave startling interruption to her 
 thoughts, and brought her to herself like an unexpected 
 thunderbolt. 
 
 All at once she heard her name called once, twice, 
 in a peculiar tone from the doorway of the little break- 
 fast-room. Then, without waiting for a reply, Mrs. 
 Caldwell gathered up her skirts and came hurrying 
 toward the summer-house, agitated and breathless. 
 
 Marian sprang to her feet; a sudden apprehension 
 of danger, of something indeterminate, yet terrible and 
 imminent to herself, had instantly taken possession of 
 her. She did not pass out of the summer-house but 
 stood waiting, her arms hanging loosely at her sides, 
 her chest expanded, and her head thrown back. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell was white and palpitating. She held 
 in her hand the letter which she had evidently just 
 finished reading, and she glanced at it and then toward 
 Marian several times without speaking. The breeze 
 kept fluttering the loose pages, but she clutched them 
 tightly. A frightened look was in her eyes, and her 
 voice broke when she spoke at last. 
 
 She thrust the letter into the girl's hands with a 
 helpless, bewildered gesture. 
 
 112
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 "Read it, Marian," she whispered, and sank down 
 on the bench. "I I am so confused. What can it 
 all mean? But of course it doesn't mean anything, 
 and I am just a silly goose." 
 
 Marian stood a moment in silence. She too had 
 grown very white, but her command upon herself was 
 perfect. She took the letter to the far end of the 
 bench and sat down. There was not the quivering 
 of an eyelid to betray her inward foreboding and 
 terror. Then she began to read, very slowly and delib- 
 erately, as if prepared to weigh every word and give it 
 its complete significance. 
 
 It was an old woman's letter, stiffly conventional, 
 with a hint of the grande dame of other days in its 
 prim diction and cold austerity. Its aloofness chilled 
 her like a cold blast. Yet it was the evident intention 
 to be kind. The first half dozen pages related to the 
 recent family bereavement, but Marian did not hurry 
 through them. She was nerving herself for what 
 something told her would surely follow. At length she 
 came to this paragraph, and her heart stood still: 
 
 " You say that you have a young friend visiting you. 
 You do not tell me to what part of the world she 
 belongs, but you remark that she is comely, and that 
 her name is Marian Day. Marian Day ! What a 
 shock that gave me! Yet it is not strange that names 
 should sometimes repeat themselves. Nevertheless, 
 
 113
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 my dear, you have turned my thoughts backward. 
 That name, though it was an obscure one here, and is 
 doubtless now forgotten, is still very familiar to me, 
 on account of a certain dark story connected with it 
 which peculiar circumstances once brought to my 
 attention. The lovely young friend you have with 
 you has doubtless lived too sheltered an existence to 
 know anything by personal contact of the sort of evil 
 and sorrow that befell the Marian Day to whom I 
 refer. But the story may interest you by contrast." 
 
 Marian paused. For an instant the little summer- 
 house, the sunlit garden, her waiting friend the 
 whole round earth swam before her eyes in a confused 
 and blinding huddle. She still held the fluttering 
 pages in her hands, and her gaze was riveted upon 
 them, but she was unable to read a word. Rigid as 
 stone she sat, scarcely breathing. Then, with a mighty 
 effort, she nerved herself and read the letter to its 
 close. 
 
 Suddenly she rose. She had reached a decision. 
 There was an element of audacity in her nature which 
 enabled her to dare the truth, though caring little for 
 it as such. 
 
 "Your great-aunt has a most accurate memory. 
 There are no mistakes in the story she gives you 
 here," she said in a low, hard voice. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell looked up quickly. 
 114
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 " Marian" she cried, sharply, " what what on 
 earth do you mean ? What can you know about it ? " 
 
 "I know everything about it. I mean that it is all 
 strictly true. No one could tell you better than myself 
 how true it is." She stood a moment looking out at 
 the glad summer sky. Her limp mull gown hung 
 about her beautiful limbs like drapery hiding polished 
 marble. Her face against its aureole of red-brown 
 hair was startling in its whiteness. Her attitude was 
 coldly defiant. But something like a sob broke upon 
 her ear, and her expression altered strangely. 
 
 She gave a quick, uncertain glance in the direction 
 of the small figure crouching in the corner of the 
 garden bench, with bowed head and hands tightly 
 clasped. The look was half contemptuous. 
 
 "It is a dark story, as your aunt informs you," she 
 said, bitterly. "I should have told it to you, myself, 
 perhaps, and not risked its coming to you in the way 
 it has. No wonder it has unnerved you. I should 
 have remembered the wide gulf of separation that the 
 self-righteous place between themselves and those 
 whose lives have been in any way touched by the 
 blight of sin. I should have spared you this unpleasant 
 moment. I should not have come here." 
 
 Against her sarcasm and her scorn Mrs. Caldwell 
 was mute and helpless. Some consciousness of the 
 secret fire smouldering beneath the clear-cut sentences 
 
 115
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 held her spellbound in the presence of a force with 
 which she felt herself unequal to cope. She only knew 
 that in . some mysterious way the two had seemed to 
 change places,, and that she had been made to feel that 
 it was herself who was on trial and not Marian Day. 
 
 " Ah, my dear my dear " she gasped. The 
 tone was deprecating and almost apologetic. 
 
 The color began slowly to return to Marian's face. 
 She looked quickly away, and a faint little smile played 
 about her lips and was gone. 
 
 When she spoke again her voice, her manner, her 
 very personality even seemed changed. She was sub- 
 dued, plaintive, appealing. There were tears in her 
 eyes and her lip trembled like a child's. 
 
 "I ought not to have come," she repeated. "But 
 oh, I was so miserable, so desolate; and it seemed such 
 a beautiful thing to be cared for, and to be treated as 
 if there were no shadow over me. You can't think 
 how this thing has followed me. Not that any one in 
 my new life ever knew. No one knew. But I knew; 
 and the dread of just such a moment as this has been 
 a torment ever since I met you. You have been so 
 good to me. Shall you shall you turn me out 
 now that you know about me?" 
 
 Added to her well-feigned humility there was a 
 hopelessness that went straight to Mrs. Caldwell's 
 simple, kindly heart. All at once the little woman 
 
 116
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 gathered herself together. She gave a sudden start, 
 rose, and then came hurrying across the intervening 
 space with outstretched arms. 
 
 "Turn you out?" she cried. "Oh, you poor dear 
 thing!" 
 
 She drew the girl down to the bench and folded her 
 to her warm, ample breast in a tender embrace. " There, 
 now, there, dear," she crooned. "Turn you out in- 
 deed! What on earth could you have been thinking 
 of, child?" 
 
 Marian's face was hid, but she lifted it presently 
 with the same sweetly humble look upon it which 
 Mrs. Caldwell had found so touching. 
 
 " Then you can forgive me ? " she asked. 
 
 " Forgive you ! For what should you ask forgiveness 
 of me?" replied Mrs. Caldwell, only holding her the 
 more closely. 
 
 "For for not telling you, for one thing," said 
 Marian, with a sad, faltering smile. 
 
 "But I am the one to ask forgiveness of you," said 
 Mrs. Caldwell in another burst of tenderness. " It was 
 cruel of me, brutal beyond expression to bring that 
 letter to you. I don't know what could have made me 
 do it, except that I was unnerved, as you said. I 
 didn't really believe that the story concerned you, and 
 yet there was the suspicion. I wanted I just 
 wanted you to prove to me that it was all nothing to 
 
 117
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 you. Oh, you poor, poor dear, how you must have 
 suffered!" 
 
 She bent down her head and kissed the girl's neck 
 where the nape of it showed above her thin gown. 
 "It is so soft and white," she whispered, fondly, and in 
 a voice which she strove to make as natural as if 
 nothing had occurred. 
 
 Marian extricated herself, and moved away. She 
 walked over to the entrance of the summer-house, and 
 stood a moment. When she turned her face was 
 white and cold again. 
 
 "Shall you feel that you must speak of this to to 
 Mrs. Boiling, for instance?" she demanded, rather 
 distantly. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell looked troubled. 
 
 "I shall not feel that I must speak of it to Mrs. 
 Boiling." 
 
 Marian was seized with a sudden panic of real fear. 
 She searched her friend's face for an instant, and then 
 dropped down on the ground and knelt beside her, 
 clutching wildly at her hands. 
 
 "Promise me that you will not speak of this to 
 any one even to Mr. Caldwell," she said, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell hesitated. She had no secrets of her 
 own, and those of other people she happened to know 
 she invariably told to Tim; yet there was something in 
 
 118
 
 MARIAN'S SECRET 
 
 the energy and inherent forcefulness of the girl that 
 constrained her. 
 
 " I shall not even tell Tim." 
 
 " And you will give me that letter ? " 
 
 The tone was imperious, compelling. 
 
 "Yes yes, I will give you the letter." 
 
 Marian raised herself a little, and fixed her burning 
 eyes on the other's face. 
 
 "Swear to me that you will never tell," she insisted, 
 in a low, tense voice. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell looked grieved. Despite her unthink- 
 ing amiability she was not without her little pride and 
 dignity. 
 
 "My word, Marian, should be sufficient," she 
 responded, gravely. 
 
 The girl flung herself upon her in a sort of frenzy. 
 
 "Oh, pity me," she cried, "I am so miserable 
 miserable!" Then she raised her head again and the 
 strange light shone in her eyes. " Swear ! " she cried. 
 
 There was a moment of waiting. Then the little 
 woman bent down and took the girl's face in both her 
 hands. 
 
 " I swear," she said. 
 
 119
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 CIRCE 
 
 IT was the last of August. 
 
 Already there had come a few cool days to Kentucky. 
 Although warm weather would return and probably 
 continue for many weeks, the first note of change had 
 sounded echoing with melancholy sweetness down 
 the forest aisles with the waning of the fiery noontide 
 heat, the delicious twilight languor, the dream and the 
 ecstasy of lovely moonlit nights. And as if in awe of 
 Nature's summons the great passionate heart of Sum- 
 mer had seemed for an instant to be chilled, startled 
 in the rapture of a mighty love, and fearful despite the 
 sun-god's flaming banners. 
 
 To Marian Day the approach of autumn had come 
 as an agonizing reminder of things already borne and 
 of what might possibly still have to be endured. Her 
 visit had lengthened into nearly six weeks, and it had 
 been a humiliating and absolute failure, with respect 
 to everything she had hoped for and anticipated. In 
 ten days she was to return to the uncongenial duties 
 
 120
 
 CIRCE 
 
 of her former existence, unless fate, which had already 
 seemed to her pitiless to the point of cruelty, should 
 relent and intervene. The little country schoolhouse 
 wherein she had spent many never to be forgotten 
 months of torture was constantly before her eyes. 
 Even in her dreams she would see its bare walls, the 
 hideous air-tight stove, the cheap wooden benches, the 
 blackboard, with some arithmetical problem or a 
 lesson in English grammar outlined upon it, and wake 
 suddenly as if stifled in the close atmosphere of the 
 badly ventilated room. The odor of apples and of 
 stale lunch baskets seemed a reality. At such moments 
 she would open her eyes, raise herself quickly on one 
 elbow and gaze about the luxuriously appointed apart- 
 ment provided for her, with a look of abject terror. 
 Then, as the recognition of her temporary reprieve 
 forced itself upon her troubled consciousness, she would 
 sink back among the pillows of her carved mahogany 
 bed, with its old gold satin canopy, its fine embroideries, 
 its snowy whiteness of spread and drapery, with an 
 intensity of sensuous delight which had in it a certain 
 animal enjoyment not unlike that of a tired steed that 
 has slipped the halter and at last lies wallowing in 
 some green woodland pasture. 
 
 At the end of the last school term she had secretly 
 registered a vow that she would never again return to 
 her prison house. Yet from all indications it would 
 
 121
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 seem that she was to return to it, and that right speedily. 
 The thought drove her to desperation. 
 
 She had met most of the representative people of the 
 town, old and young, many of whom, however, had 
 come as a mere form to bestow a visit of perfunctory 
 condolence upon Mrs. Caldwell, not knowing that she 
 had a guest. From time to time Roger Boiling had 
 brought relays of young men for the most part poor 
 young lawyers like himself, pleasant, attentive, yet 
 lacking, as she soon discovered, his distinction, his 
 inherent strength and charm. On the whole they did 
 not seem to her to be worth while, and she exerted 
 herself little for their entertainment, reserving her 
 efforts for Roger himself in a manner that was subtly 
 flattering and compelling. 
 
 The two had been much together. But Mrs. Cald- 
 well, watching the situation with almost as much 
 trepidation as Mrs. Boiling herself, had at last quieted 
 her fears. It did not seem likely to develop into an 
 affair, although it was evident that some mysterious 
 bond of interest, stronger than the courtesy that the 
 peculiar circumstances demanded, drew Roger to the 
 girl, and held him, though by no means a captive. 
 She could not know that his state of mind was a direct 
 outcome of certain conditions that had to do with his 
 unsatisfactory relation toward Sibyl Fontaine. 
 
 As a matter of fact, during much of the time that 
 122
 
 CIRCE 
 
 had passed since Sibyl's departure he had been as 
 distinctly miserable as his buoyant nature would allow. 
 Too bewildered by the mad rush of feeling that had 
 assailed him at first to reason calmly, the thought of 
 her had gradually become a torment. As an escape 
 he had sought to forget her by means of an even closer 
 application than ordinary to his work. He worked 
 furiously, irrationally, with the sort of desperate energy 
 that certain high-strung temperaments resort to as a 
 safety-valve against themselves. And in his moments 
 of inevitable reaction, with the return to the old rest- 
 lessness or apathy as the case might be, he sought the 
 society of Marian Day, who, in his excited state, was 
 able to offer an appeal which she would have been 
 powerless to make had he not been thus aroused. That 
 this appeal was distinctly to the lower side of him, that 
 it was unspiritual, and at times deliberately earthy, he 
 scarcely knew. His experience of life had not been 
 wide; and there are natures that can only find out 
 poison by tasting every common bush and flower. 
 
 During this tremendous crisis of his development, 
 Marian Day, suspecting everything, though apparently 
 seeing nothing, had watched him as a cat watches a 
 mouse, realizing perfectly the precise moment in which 
 to spring, and not daring to precipitate matters by so 
 much as an injudicious movement of an eyelash, lest 
 she should lose all. 
 
 123
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 The delay had gone beyond her expectations. But 
 she had not for one instant lost faith in herself. It 
 was time, time that she asked for, and that only. 
 The thought of what must be accomplished, if ever, 
 within the next ten days would have been unnerving 
 to some women, paralyzing their charm. To her it 
 was a powerful stimulus that revealed itself in a glow 
 and sparkle that was contagious, and that went to the 
 head like wine. 
 
 She was lying outstretched in luxurious abandon, one 
 warm afternoon, tossing a little restlessly from time to 
 time on her couch, as she reviewed the critical situation 
 with a coolness that combined an unwilling admiration 
 and the impatience she felt against the strength she 
 had to combat, when there came a light tap on her 
 door. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell entered. She stood an instant poised 
 like a bird ready for flight, and then moved softly on 
 tiptoe into the room. She sat down on the edge of the 
 lounge. 
 
 "I didn't wake you? You are sure? I think 
 people that are inopportune are such horrors, and you 
 know I want you to rest, rest, rest, so that I can send 
 you back strong and well to your school this autumn. 
 I do think the visit has done you good. Your neck 
 and arms are quite beautifully plump lovely, my 
 dear. But ought you to leave them bare like that? 
 
 124
 
 CIRCE 
 
 You might fall asleep, and then you would be certain 
 to take cold." 
 
 "I haven't been asleep, and I am quite com- 
 fortable," said Marian, wondering what all this was 
 leading up to. "I shall not do anything to make 
 myself ill. These last ten days mean too much to 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell's face grew troubled. But Marian's 
 tone was entirely simple, and there seemed no hidden 
 meaning lurking in the words. She was thinking that, 
 if it were not for Roger Boiling and her sense of obli- 
 gation there, she would be glad that the visit should 
 be prolonged. But she only said: 
 
 "There was a telephone message, and I answered, 
 thinking you were asleep. Roger wanted to know at 
 what hour he should come for the drive this afternoon. 
 I suggested half-past five, and he said he thought five 
 would be better." 
 
 Marian busied herself tucking up the tawny mane 
 hanging loose about her. -She kept her face turned 
 away. Had Mrs. Caldwell seen the gleam that sud- 
 denly shone in the amber-colored eyes, and the look 
 of almost savage triumph traced upon the clear-cut 
 features of her guest, she would have been convinced 
 of much that she preferred not to believe; and Mrs. 
 Boiling's disturbance, which she could no longer per- 
 suade herself was something conjured up by her own 
 
 125
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 supersensitive fears, would not have seemed altogether 
 groundless. 
 
 " I have just come from Mrs. Boiling," she remarked, 
 presently, giving a partial expression to her thought. 
 " She is looking wretched really shocking, I think. 
 She is not at all well, and she seems so so troubled." 
 
 "Does she?" inquired Marian, simply. "I didn't 
 know of her illness. Her son did not mention it." 
 
 " When did you see Roger ? " demanded Mrs. 
 Caldwell, quickly. 
 
 Marian opened her eyes. Then she met Mrs. 
 Caldwell's gaze with the utmost frankness. 
 
 " When ? " she replied. " This morning, while I was 
 down town. He joined me and walked as far as the 
 library. He seemed in good spirits, I thought." 
 
 *' I don't think she is anxious particularly over money 
 matters at present," Mrs. Caldwell continued, seeming 
 to find a painful satisfaction in the theme. " Tim says 
 Roger made a most excellent sale of some of their 
 Main street property a day or two ago. He is going 
 to invest the proceeds in Western lands. But of 
 course they won't yield anything for quite a long 
 time," she added, hastily, suddenly seeing the drift of 
 her words. 
 
 Marian stifled a yawn. "Has she consulted a phy- 
 sician ? " she asked, with wholly impersonal interest. 
 
 "Yes; and his report is not encouraging. She has 
 126
 
 CIRCE 
 
 had pneumonia twice, and he fears some serious lung 
 trouble. She has told nothing of this to Roger yet, 
 and you mustn't let him know of anything I have said. 
 I think she intends to tell him, though, and I have 
 mentioned it to you as a sort of explanation of why 
 you will probably not see very much of him during the 
 remainder of your visit. The doctor says that she 
 must keep much in the open air, and that Roger must 
 take her driving every day." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell folded her tiny hands in her lap and 
 sighed. There were times when Marian's secret 
 weighed heavily upon her, and when the thought of it, 
 added to the responsibility she would in any case have 
 felt, was insupportable. In view of it, anything like 
 a love affair between the girl and Roger Boiling seemed 
 a catastrophe that would be indeed appalling. 
 
 But her perturbed spirits had been soothed and 
 reassured by the calm of Marian's manner. Presently 
 she sprang up briskly. 
 
 "It is nearly five and you must dress," she cried. 
 " Roger will not forgive me if I shorten your last drive 
 together. Poor dear! He will have thoughts now 
 only for his mother." 
 
 At the door she turned and looked back smiling. 
 
 "I am so glad that you are not his sweetheart, 
 dearie," she said, with a sudden daring that left her 
 all a-tremble. 
 
 127
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Marian was moving softly about the room with her 
 smooth, cat-like tread. She paused. 
 
 " Are you ? " she inquired, nonchalantly. " Why ? " 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell fumbled awkwardly with the door- 
 knob. The question and Marian's directness had 
 completely disconcerted her. 
 
 " Oh, because because it would be so sad ! " 
 she murmured faintly, as her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Half an hour later Marian was moving quickly down 
 the walk in her white duck gown toward Roger Boiling 
 and his restive thoroughbred. She was radiant. Her 
 eyes behind her thin gauze veil shone darkly luminous, 
 and he stood watching her as she approached with an 
 expression on his aristocratic features that would have 
 sent a thrill of horror into Mrs. Caldwell's gentle breast 
 had she seen it. Without speaking she gave him her 
 hand for an instant and then sprang lightly into the 
 trap, and in silence he took the seat beside her. But 
 as the bay dashed forward he turned to her. 
 
 " In which direction shall we go ? " he asked, briefly, 
 avoiding her eyes. 
 
 " Let us first go through the town and then out on any 
 one of the country roads. I leave the choice to you." 
 
 He hesitated. " But why through the town ? " He 
 broke into a short, embarrassed laugh. "It is county 
 court day, and there is also a circus." 
 
 128
 
 CIRCE 
 
 But there was method in Marian's delay. 
 
 " I know," she responded, sweetly, " and that is why 
 I want first to go through the town. I like it when it 
 is alive like that." 
 
 He turned the horse's head resignedly. "If you 
 hope to see Phyllis and Corydon, I warn you you will 
 be disappointed." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because Phyllis will be such a stylishly dressed 
 young person you will not even know she is Phyllis, 
 unless I should be sufficiently informed to point her 
 out to you, which I doubt; and as for Corydon, he will 
 be such a splendid big six-footer that you will not take 
 him for a rustic but a prize fighter." 
 
 To-day there was a sort of suppressed excitement in 
 his manner which she perceived instantly, and which 
 was added fuel to the flame her own desperate deter- 
 mination had kindled within herself. His boyish face 
 was pale and the gleam that shot now and again from 
 his gray eyes revealed the secret perturbation he sought 
 in vain to conceal from her. He was fast losing his 
 head, and she knew it. The thought rushed through 
 her like the leap of fire, as they picked their difficult 
 course through the noisy thoroughfare. 
 
 "It is too crowded," she said at last, as an elec- 
 tric car sped past them almost grazing their wheels. 
 A small boy with a balloon whistle had well-nigh 
 
 129
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 encountered Juggernaut, Roger turned the trap so 
 quickly. 
 
 A few moments afterward they were out upon one 
 of the loveliest of the country roads, far away from the 
 din of the town. 
 
 There had been frequent rains and the woods were 
 not at all parched. Marian, with wise procrastination, 
 folded her hands and looked away toward the gently 
 rolling fields, with an expression of serene contentment 
 in her eyes. 
 
 "How beautiful it is," she murmured as to herself, 
 "how beautiful!" 
 
 Roger caught at the impersonal note as a drowning 
 man catches at a straw. He had been frantic to be 
 alone with her, and at first was not a little piqued at 
 the nonchalance that could seem to find greater 
 pleasure in the excitement of the blatant streets, 
 where it was impossible for him to say a word to 
 her with comfort, than in his untrammelled society. 
 But now that the longed for moment had come, he 
 was dumb. 
 
 "Yes, it is very beautiful," he answered after a 
 while, still avoiding her eyes. " It is sometimes a little 
 surprising to me, though, that strangers find at once as 
 much to admire in the Bluegrass scenery as they do. 
 There is nothing imposing about it, nothing inspiring 
 as in more rugged landscapes, nothing immediately 
 
 130
 
 CIRCE 
 
 to catch the attention. Yet nearly every one that 
 comes here cares for it." 
 
 He spoke hurriedly, nervously, as one whose spirit 
 was not calm for such discussion. She was silent, as 
 if preoccupied and wholly taken up with the view. 
 
 " I didn't know that you cared particularly for any- 
 thing like that," he observed, a trifle morosely, after a 
 while, again beset with a desire to direct her attention 
 to himself. The fact was that he had often noted her 
 apparent indifference to the very thing she was now 
 professing to admire. 
 
 Marian withdrew her gaze. She turned to him with 
 a slow, beautiful smile. 
 
 "I have grown to love it," she said, softly. 
 
 The look and the tone were unmistakable. A hot 
 flush swept to his temples. But he only said: 
 
 " What is it you see in it especially to care for ? " 
 
 She heaved a deep sigh. "Oh!" she cried, with a 
 laugh, and a piteous, half tearful note in her voice, 
 " it is the sense of of plentifulness that it gives one, 
 just that. I never had a plenty of anything in all my 
 life unless it was a plenty of trouble." 
 
 His face grew tender. Had she looked at him in 
 that moment there would have been little doubt in her 
 mind as to what she should do next. But it chanced 
 that just then they came in sight of one of the pictur- 
 esque homes for which the region is famed a great 
 
 131
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 square building with wide porches and tall white pillars 
 set back in the midst of a park of noble forest trees, 
 and her attention was misdirected. When she spoke 
 again he was grave and calm. 
 
 "Who lives in that lovely old place?" she asked, 
 quickly, her eyes greedy with longing for the merely 
 material. 
 
 "Some people from the East of the name of Sulli- 
 van," he replied, shortly. 
 
 "Do you know them?" 
 
 "Slightly." 
 
 "How long have they lived here?" 
 
 "About two years. They have a stock farm." 
 
 "How many of them are there?" 
 
 " Only two the man and his wife. Why are you 
 interested ? " 
 
 She leaned back and slowly unclasped her gloves, 
 keeping her eyes downcast. 
 
 "I don't know that I could make you understand," 
 she said, at length. "But it is always interesting to 
 me to remember that there are people in the world who 
 have escaped the rude blasts of life for whom 
 existence is smooth and well ordered, far apart from 
 the vulgar highway on which many of us have to 
 trudge and drudge, like weary rock crackers, every 
 day, solely in order that an unhappy soul may not take 
 leave of its body." 
 
 132
 
 CIRCE 
 
 Roger slackened pace a little that she might see the 
 place more distinctly. Then he remarked, laconically: 
 
 " The people who live there scarcely answer to your 
 description about the smooth, well-ordered existence 
 and all that. Mr. Sullivan comes from a very humble 
 walk in life, and he has seen about as hard times as 
 anybody I ever heard of. I am not sure," he threw 
 back his head and the old boyish laughter yet with 
 a difference rang out, " I am not sure that the vulgar 
 highway in his case did not include a veritable rock 
 pile. At any rate, he moiled and toiled for many years 
 before anybody ever heard of him except as a day 
 laborer. Then somebody over in Europe died and 
 left him a small fortune. He invested it, and it was 
 not long before he was worth several hundred thou- 
 sands. After that he gambled quite extensively and 
 successfully in Wall Street. He is now a complete 
 wreck, so far as health is concerned, and he is also a 
 very unhappy person indeed. His wife, who is a 
 rather pretty woman and of a very different grade of 
 life from his, has a decidedly rough time of it with 
 him. He is penurious and underbred, and on the 
 whole her lot seems to be anything but one to envy. 
 Waller knows her very well. It is one of the places 
 he visits a good deal, and " All at once he broke 
 off and whistled softly. "Angels and ministers of 
 grace defend us!" he exclaimed, "if there isn't the 
 
 133
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 fellow now! And I thought he was hundreds of miles 
 away from here." 
 
 Marian's face went suddenly white, and a startled 
 look came into her eyes. She glanced quickly in the 
 direction he indicated. She was trembling as if they 
 had suddenly encountered an apparition. But all at 
 once her features were illuminated by a strange smile. 
 She threw back her loose gauze veil and sat bolt 
 upright in the trap, looking toward the top of the hill 
 with an expression that was half dubious, yet infinitely 
 daring. A soft, delicious color swept into her cheeks. 
 She had taken off her gloves, and with one swift, deft 
 hand she smoothed the stray locks about her temples. 
 
 Francis Waller came slowly down the road, with his 
 hands in his pockets and a pipe in his mouth, a collie 
 following at his heels. He was dressed with the utmost 
 care, but despite a certain elegance of attire and bear- 
 ing, an unmistakable air of polish that bespoke equally 
 the scholar and the man of the world, he was scarcely 
 a pleasing figure, at first sight. There was something 
 ugly and disproportionate about the somewhat pon- 
 derous form. His body was too long and his legs were 
 too short for symmetry; and there was an indolence of 
 general aspect that made him seem older than he was, 
 and that was in direct contrast with Roger Boiling's 
 athletic energy and nervous, animated mien. But in 
 spite of all this there was that in his appearance that 
 
 134
 
 CIRCE 
 
 caught the attention and held it. One knew him at 
 once to be not an ordinary man. The look in his 
 light, greenish eyes was brooding, thoughtful, poetic. 
 They were most expressive eyes, and at times they had 
 been known to grow dark and beautiful with emotion. 
 The mouth was less winning. There was a suggestion 
 of both the cynic and the sensualist in the curves of 
 the full red lips. 
 
 Yet, strictly speaking, he was neither a cynic nor a 
 sensualist. The gods of Law and Order the only 
 Omnipotence he believed in were still able to compel 
 from him a sort of allegiance which kept him obedient 
 in the main, notwithstanding the occasional captious 
 note; and an innate fastidiousess, a loathing for the 
 mere irregularity and hideousness of vice, as opposed 
 to the harmony and beauty which nature had taught 
 him to worship, kept his life cleaner than that of most 
 men, albeit wholly independent of the influence of 
 either ethics or religion. 
 
 He was walking in deep thought, with downcast eyes 
 and head sunken a little on his chest, so that he neither 
 saw nor heard the approaching vehicle until it had 
 passed just a few yards in front of him. He looked up 
 surprised, and gave an uncertain glance around as if 
 unable immediately to get his bearings. An instant 
 afterward the greenish eyes behind the inevitable 
 glasses twinkled humorously, and he came to an abrupt 
 
 135
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 standstill. Then he most deliberately removed his 
 pipe from his mouth and his hat from his head, and 
 came forward, all in that quiet, cool way of his that 
 somehow gave the impression of extreme courtesy, 
 despite its hint of insolence. 
 
 "Hello, Roger!" he said, as if their meeting thus 
 were quite the most natural thing in the world. 
 
 The two men clasped hands, Roger returning the 
 greeting with a lordly ease that was more than a match 
 for the other's nonchalance. While it seemed to rec- 
 ognize a past good comradeship, it also bore witness to 
 the break in their friendship, which had come about 
 neither knew precisely how, and which somehow refused 
 to be mended. To cover over the slight coldness which 
 his manner betrayed, Roger resorted to a light and 
 jocular tone. He immediately introduced him to 
 Marian, pronouncing her full name in a sort of boyish 
 banter. 
 
 Francis Waller was by no means deceived. He was 
 a person of quick discernment as well as of great 
 vanity, and the first note of dereliction toward himself 
 was apt to fall upon his sensitive ear like a rude dis- 
 cord. Until that moment he had kept his eyes on 
 Roger's face with an expression half pained, half 
 satirical. At the mention of her name, however, he 
 looked for the first time definitely toward Marian Day. 
 
 Their eyes met, and as the full realization of her 
 136
 
 CIRCE 
 
 beauty, which was of an order that he found particu- 
 larly alluring, swept in upon him, he drew back a step 
 or two and bowed low, while his thin skin where it 
 showed above his light brown Vandyke beard flushed 
 a warm pink that mounted quite up to his brow. 
 
 But where had he heard that name before ? It was 
 oddly familiar. Or was his memory playing him some 
 trick? He stood wondering, irresolute, his gaze still 
 riveted upon her. 
 
 Marian did not aid him, but she leaned quickly 
 forward and gave him her ungloved hand, its pulses 
 throbbing warmly in his clasp. 
 
 "At last!" she murmured, softly, while her lips 
 parted in a bewildering smile. 
 
 The tone and the look were a drop of balm to a 
 wound. Francis Waller gave her his complete atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " But I have met you before " he began. 
 
 She looked away. " You have never met me before," 
 she replied, with a barely perceptible coolness. Then 
 she added, "out I had hoped to meet the great author 
 this summer. Mrs. Caldwell intended to send me to 
 see you, if your prospective house party hadn't come 
 to naught." 
 
 " Oh ! " he cried, with genuine regret, " was it really 
 you that she intended to send?" 
 
 " It was really I," said Marian Day. 
 137
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "If only I had known! Why wasn't there some 
 kind fairy to whisper in my ear that that particular 
 house party was really to be the house party of my 
 life? Why oh, why!" 
 
 And Marian echoed, "Why!" 
 
 The bay was growing restive and so was Roger. 
 He cut in shortly: 
 
 "What brings you back to this part of the world, 
 Waller? I thought you were far from here." 
 
 "So I was," came the answer, "but business com- 
 pelled me to Cincinnati, and I thought I would run up 
 here for the day just to say good-by to some of my 
 dear friends. I left a card at your office somewhere." 
 
 "I didn't find it," said Roger, conscious of being 
 churlish against his will, and hating himself for it. 
 " Where are you off to now ? " 
 
 "To Japan," replied Francis Waller, with his eyes 
 still on Marian. 
 
 Her face changed oddly. She leaned toward him. 
 
 "Shall you be long gone?" she asked, quickly. 
 
 He was pleased, flattered, even touched a little by 
 her most pronounced interest. Once more the color 
 swept into his face. 
 
 " Very long," he responded, sadly. " A year or two, 
 and possibly longer." 
 
 " How does the new book come on ? " interrupted 
 Roger again. " Hang it all," he was saying to himself 
 
 138
 
 CIRCE 
 
 viciously, "what makes the fellow look at a woman 
 like that?" 
 
 Francis Waller at once withdrew his eyes. After all, 
 a beautiful woman was only of momentary importance 
 to him. Art in the abstract, and his own art in par- 
 ticular, were supreme. His expression instantly grew 
 serious, and his reply was amusingly naive. 
 
 "Oh, it is coming along. It was a little late in 
 getting into the publishers' hands, and they had made 
 most of their arrangements for their autumn list, but, 
 as one of the firm remarked to me, the morsel was too 
 dainty a bit to be left over until next year. I am sure 
 it is far the best piece of work I have sent forth; and 
 in this estimate I think the public will agree with me 
 that is, if it has sufficiently recovered from its recent 
 debauch, and is not too greatly contaminated by the 
 cheap and sensational to know a good thing when it 
 sees it. However, it will be out in November. I have 
 given orders that a copy be sent to you. May I have 
 the pleasure of sending one to you also?" he supple- 
 mented, addressing himself to Marian. 
 
 But Marian had grown inattentive. Her gaze had 
 wandered away in the direction of the setting sun, and 
 she appeared to be more interested in the benign 
 and lovely aspect of the Bluegrass landscape than in 
 anything the distinguished author had to say to 
 her. 
 
 139
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "That would be very good of you," she murmured. 
 Her bow was a trifle absent-minded, and Roger, per- 
 ceiving it with a sort of savage elation, made a move- 
 ment of departure. He leaned forward quickly and 
 held out his hand. 
 
 "Good-by, old fellow," he said, "we mustn't keep 
 you standing here. Sorry to miss you when you called 
 to-day. Good-by and bon voyage" 
 
 Francis Waller coolly took out his note-book. 
 
 " What is your address ? " he asked, with his eyes 
 again on Marian's face, stepping back a little to avoid 
 being trampled upon by Roger's impatient thorough- 
 bred. 
 
 She hesitated and looked down. Then she slowly 
 lifted her eyes to his and a peculiar smile flitted across 
 her features, as the bay made a dash forward. 
 
 "My address? Oh, it doesn't matter. Just send 
 it send it in care of Mr. Boiling, and he will see 
 that it gets to me," she called back to him. 
 
 He stood stock-still in the middle of the road. Pres- 
 ently he put his hat on his head and his pipe into his 
 mouth, striking a match with his usual nonchalance. 
 But the trap had disappeared below the crest of the 
 hill he had a few moments before descended, before 
 the look of wonderment in his eyes gave way to an 
 expression of whimsical amusement. He took off his 
 hat again and rubbed his hand across his brow, 
 
 140
 
 CIRCE 
 
 tantalized by the reminder of something he was unable 
 to run down. Marian Day! What strange mental 
 association had he with that name? Where when? 
 Like a will-o'-the-wisp the memory eluded him. All 
 at once he drew a deep breath, and threw back his 
 head. He had it! "Ah!" he said to himself, "ah!" 
 and laughed softly. 
 
 In the meantime Marian Day had promptly dis- 
 missed him from her thoughts, and was giving herself 
 up to the man at her side with a concentration of her 
 powers that made the incident of the moment before 
 seem to him as if regarded as the merest bagatelle. 
 His boyish irritation at her misdirected flattery, the 
 slight stiffness of manner he had permitted himself for 
 an instant to manifest toward her at recollection of 
 her somewhat broadly expressed admiration of Waller 
 which had jarred not only upon his self-esteem 
 but upon his high breeding vanished like snow 
 beneath a genial sun with the fostering warmth of 
 her smile. Once more Roger felt himself to be the 
 supreme object of her regard and was under the spell 
 of her bewitching subtlety, the intoxication of her 
 nearness. 
 
 It was growing late, yet he drove on and on, un- 
 mindful of the shadows ever deepening about them, 
 or of the miles that lay between them and the now far 
 
 141
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 distant town. The sun had gone down in roseate 
 splendor, flooding the lovely land in an afterglow that 
 lingered and blended with the autumnal haze in a 
 delicious tender light. But now the clouds were paling, 
 and behind delicate streaks of pearl and mauve a 
 silver crescent shone, slender and beautiful. A sad, 
 sweet stillness pervaded earth and sky, a stillness that 
 was almost painful to the senses, and that was rudely 
 broken in upon from time to time by some clattering 
 vehicle hurrying with jaded occupants homeward and 
 supperward after the long day. He seemed to see no 
 one, to be scarcely conscious of the flying moments 
 of anything, in fact, save the magnetism of a presence 
 that had made the past a blank to him and blinded 
 him to the future. 
 
 For he had given up the fight. A madness of sur- 
 render urged him to put the goblet she held out to 
 him to his lips, and to drink deep, deep of the sparkling 
 draught within. A storm of excitement raged behind his 
 few curt sentences. His eyes were hard and glassy, 
 and now and then, in reply to her honeyed words, his 
 laugh rang out short, unsteady, reckless. A cool little 
 breeze was gathering, and he welcomed it against his 
 hot brow, as it fluttered ghostlike through the misty 
 woodlands. But nature was helpless to still the tem- 
 pest that swept him onward now. His nerves were 
 tense, and the dear familiar twilight sounds, ordinarily 
 
 142
 
 CIRCE 
 
 music to his ears, had lost their power to soothe. The 
 lowing of some Jerseys that they passed, the croaking 
 of the frogs in a distant meadow, the shrill notes of 
 katydid or cricket, jarred discordant. He kept his 
 face resolutely from her as if putting forth, uncon- 
 sciously, one last despairing effort of resistance. 
 
 Once, just once, he had dared to look her in the 
 eyes, and there was something half pleading and 
 piteous in his expression as he turned his head quickly 
 away. 
 
 Presently she touched him on the arm. She had 
 been speaking very softly of her departure, with an 
 infinite sadness and regret. 
 
 " We must go back now. It is almost quite dark." 
 
 Her voice seemed to take on a mellowness that 
 lent to it the quality of a flute note in an enchanted 
 forest. 
 
 He looked about him as a man dazed. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, hoarsely, "we must go 
 back." 
 
 All at once she pressed nearer to him and he could 
 hear her quick, sob-like breathing. There were 
 genuine tears in her eyes. 
 
 "But oh," she said in a very low tone, so low that 
 he had to bend down his head to hear it, "I wish, I 
 wish we didn't have to. If only we might go on like 
 this forever!" 
 
 143
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 He did not speak. But he flashed a quick, startled 
 glance in her face. Their eyes met and his brain 
 reeled. Before he had time to think he had yielded. 
 She broke into a low, gurgling laughter, as he bent 
 down to her. An instant afterward his arm was about 
 her, and he had kissed her on the lips. 
 
 144
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 SEVERAL hours later Roger Boiling moved slowly up 
 the path that led to his own doorway and applied the 
 latch-key. His step was halting like an old man's, 
 and his face was white and haggard as if a blight had 
 suddenly fallen upon its young hopefulness, withering 
 it, and leaving only dull despair in its stead. He 
 entered softly, and stood a moment looking around 
 upon the familiar objects with eyes that were glassy 
 and unseeing, yet filled with a mute questioning. How 
 long had it been since he stood there last? Was it 
 days, or weeks, or months ? It could scarcely have 
 been hours. The house was entirely still, save for an 
 occasional dismal scratching sound made by the Vir- 
 ginia creeper against the old-time casement when the 
 wind stirred it. A dim light had been left burning in 
 the hall for him, and it lit the dining-room sufficiently 
 for him to see a little within. He knew without looking 
 for it that on the sideboard he would find a tray filled 
 with sandwiches and milk and fruits, which, with 
 
 145
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 gentle forethought, his mother had placed there as 
 usual for him with her own hands. He had tasted 
 nothing since luncheon, yet the thought of food was 
 revolting. Presently he started toward the staircase, 
 and then paused again irresolute, as one dazed. 
 
 Out of the maddening play of the senses he had 
 emerged at last. The intoxication that had blinded 
 him, the storm that had swept and swayed and finally 
 uptorn him as the roots of a sapling are uptorn by the 
 blast all, all were over now, and defeat, humiliation, 
 dejection remained. One recollection, and one only, 
 finally held him in its relentless grip, and it sobered 
 him as a drunken man is sometimes sobered by a 
 blow. It was the realization that he had bound him- 
 self, definitely, irrevocably and to a woman whom, 
 even in the delirium of surrender, he knew he did 
 not love in any way that was worthy of his higher 
 self. It was one way, but it was not the best way, 
 and his heart cried out in bitterness and rebellion 
 against the consequences of his own rash words and 
 acts. 
 
 That first kiss in the twilight, wildly sweet, and hot 
 with the headstrong passion of his unsullied youth, 
 had become only a painful memory now; and with the 
 waning of its power the reminder of other things that 
 through it he had lost swept like an avalanche down 
 upon him and crushed him beneath its intolerable 
 
 146
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 weight. The sweet dream of an ideal marriage, which 
 is the lofty hope of all fine natures, and which recently, 
 and with boyish reverence, had sometimes floated before 
 his enraptured eyes, was lost in the light of common 
 day. Gone were the haunting visions, that like a 
 flock of white- winged birds fluttered through his fancy 
 at thought of some far distant time when Love, per- 
 chance, should lowly bend to him, and spirits as well 
 as lips should dare to meet and mingle. His altar 
 fires had grown cold. 
 
 Afterwards he could recall but little of what he had 
 said to her. Much of the drive homeward would 
 forever remain a blank to him. He only knew that 
 out of the chaos that followed upon his impetuosity 
 something within him whose roots reached deep down 
 into his inmost nature sprang into life and bore fruit 
 in the course he had felt in honor bound to pursue. 
 He had asked her to be his wife. Even before he had 
 done this she had assumed that the compact between 
 them was already sealed. She was cheerfully but 
 very quietly acquiescent, after the obligatory words 
 had been spoken ; and she drew a little away from him 
 and sat looking out upon the purpling woods, her face 
 turned toward the east, with a cool exultation in her 
 eyes. But as the lovely form pressed once more against 
 him at parting, her voice became again warm and 
 vibrant, and she bent down to whisper in his ear words 
 
 147
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 that, had he been truly her lover, would have set his 
 pulses leaping in an ecstasy of joy. 
 
 After he had left her he had walked for miles, not 
 knowing nor caring whither his footsteps tended, yet 
 driven by the old blind savage instinct that makes the 
 hurt animal seek to hide its pain from every other eye, 
 and that always translates itself into a demand for 
 solitude imperative and not to be denied. That there 
 was any possible escape never for an instant occurred 
 to him. He was brave, brave to the last extremity of 
 valor; yet the old-fashioned chivalry of his nature 
 would have revolted from the sort of courage that 
 would have dared to tell her the truth. He knew now 
 that she had deliberately tempted him, but there was 
 a manliness in him of a kind that refused to throw the 
 blame on her. 
 
 He went softly up the stairs, hoping that his mother 
 would be sleeping, and cautious not to wake her. At 
 thought of her a lump rose in his throat and a mist 
 gathered in his eyes. How how could he bare to 
 tell her of the thing that was weighing him down ! In 
 the exquisite intimacy that existed between them, 
 heretofore it had been possible for him to practise a 
 noble frankness that was spontaneous and not in the 
 least self-conscious; so that she fancied that she knew 
 him through and through. Her ambition for him was 
 boundless, he well knew not in the usual vulgar 
 
 148
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 way, the world's way, which she scorned, but as re- 
 garded everything that should tend toward his higher 
 progress and development. Intuitively he appre- 
 hended what opinion she would hold of a marriage 
 between him and Marian Day. There had been no 
 adverse comment; even after the girl was no longer 
 under her protection, and where some freedom of 
 expression with regard to her might have been allowed, 
 there had been only silence. But her silence had told 
 him much; and now with that clearer perception that 
 had come to him on his awakening from his midsummer 
 madness, he realized as he had not done before what 
 an impassable gulf of separation there must ever be 
 between her and the woman who henceforth was to 
 stand to him in the most sacred of human relations. 
 
 As he passed his mother's door, she called his name 
 in her low voice, and he turned the knob and entered. 
 It had been the custom of a lifetime, no matter how 
 late the hour when he returned, for him to come in 
 thus and speak a word or two. If she were sleeping 
 he only kissed her on the brow and went away noise- 
 lessly. It was what he had thought to do to-night. 
 It was after twelve, and her hour was eleven. He 
 could not tell her yet! Not only her nerves but his 
 own would need the bracing power of daylight for the 
 ordeal that sooner or later he would have to inflict. 
 To-night he would spare her. He had forced his 
 
 149
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 features to something like their usual expression when 
 he sat down on the bed beside her, but he was thankful 
 for the deep shadows made by the little night lamp on 
 the table at her side. 
 
 "Why aren't you asleep, motherkins?" he tried to 
 ask lightly; "it is after twelve. Don't you know I 
 don't allow you to keep late hours ? " 
 
 She smiled softly, lingeringly, partly to him and 
 partly to herself at his tone, as there came trooping 
 into her mind countless recollections of the pretty 
 tyrannies she had long been familiar with, and that 
 dated in truth almost from his baby days. She was 
 silent, and with a sudden movement he leaned toward 
 her. Then he took her face in both his hands and 
 kissed her twice tenderly, and there were tears in his 
 eyes. A great longing to tell her everything, to loose 
 the curb and make her the sharer of his sorrow, for an 
 instant tempted him, as with an instinct that was 
 childlike in its simplicity he turned to her for conso- 
 lation. It passed. And as it gave way to another 
 feeling, sterner, stronger, part of his youth went with 
 it, and he knew that never again could he come to her 
 or to any living soul for ease to the ache which his 
 manhood demanded he must bear alone. 
 
 "Good night," he said, very gently, and sought to 
 rise, but she drew him closer to her. For a moment 
 she held him thus, patting his cheek with her firm, 
 
 150
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 light hand, and pausing at last to put her lips to his 
 brow. He noticed that she shivered convulsively, and 
 there was a slight catch in her voice when she spoke 
 at last. 
 
 "Don't go, dear, not for a little while yet; there is 
 something I want to say to you." 
 
 He raised himself, and looked at her quickly. Until 
 then he had avoided her eyes, but something in her 
 tone fell strangely on his ear and startled him. Had 
 she suspected anything ? But the anxious, half-plead- 
 ing look in his eyes, like that of a dumb animal in pain, 
 gave way to a totally different expression. He started 
 up. For the first time he realized that something was 
 strangely wrong with her. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked, noting how white and 
 hollow-cheeked she looked. A pang of remorse shot 
 through him. How he had been neglecting her! 
 "What is it you want to say to me, mother, dear?" 
 His heart was pounding heavily. 
 
 She played a little with the bedspread and looked 
 away. 
 
 "Nothing very tedious. Just a wee little talk 
 about about my health and one other thing." 
 
 "Your health!" His eyes were still riveted upon 
 her, and his voice rang out tense and quivering with 
 alarm. He remembered that her hand when it had 
 touched his face had seemed to him hot as in a fever, 
 
 151
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 but he had been too overwrought fully to realize what 
 that might mean at first, self-conscious as he had been. 
 His gaze wandered helplessly about the room, its 
 daintiness and refinement, that air of elegance that 
 pervaded everything in any way associated with his 
 mother, notwithstanding that her surroundings were 
 of the simplest, forcing itself upon his attention even 
 then. All at once he broke forth. 
 
 " Oh ! " he cried, " you have been ill, and you didn't 
 even tell me!" 
 
 "But I am better to-night," she answered, softly, 
 "and there was no need to alarm you. The doctor 
 came at half-past five. He says that I am better, too. 
 Don't worry, darling." 
 
 " The doctor ! At half-past five ! " 
 
 Roger turned his face away and groaned inwardly. 
 He took a turn or two up and down the room. Then 
 he came back and sat down on the bed beside her. 
 There was an intensity of self-repression written on 
 every line of his pale face, but his manner was calm 
 and a little imperious. 
 
 " How long has this been going on ? " he asked. 
 
 She hesitated. "I haven't been quite well for 
 for some time." 
 
 "For some time! And you didn't even tell me!" 
 His voice tried to be steady, but it broke again, and his 
 lip trembled. 
 
 152
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 She took his hand in both her own and held it fondly 
 for a moment, soothing him as if he were a child. 
 Then she pressed it against her cheek and looked into 
 his eyes, smiling. But his sensitive perception had 
 now fully grasped what she was striving to keep from 
 him that she was really ill, perhaps seriously. With 
 the realization of the need of self-control, the necessity, 
 possibly, of prompt and efficient action, he awoke 
 sternly to the demands of the situation. All at once 
 they seemed to change places, and he was the elder. 
 He looked her very quietly in the eyes, and his fingers 
 tightened about hers. 
 
 " Now, dear," he said, " what is it ? Tell me 
 tell me everything." 
 
 She turned her face away for the briefest possible 
 space. Then she told him. 
 
 He sat as one stunned. " But Dr. Beverley is not 
 infallible. He has been known to make mistakes. I 
 will call in other physicians," he cried at last, with 
 sudden vehemence, rousing himself from the blow that 
 had felled him. His face was seamed with suffering. 
 He reached out his hands as if groping in the dark. 
 
 She shook her head. " He has consulted with others. 
 The examination shows that there are tuberculosis 
 germs. They are all agreed that I have the disease, 
 but as yet in only its earliest stage. They hold out 
 considerable hope. I am to do certain things, and not 
 
 153
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 to do others. For one thing I am not to worry the 
 least little bit which is the sort of advice that every 
 one gives and that no one at all times keeps and 
 and, let me see I am to be much in the open air, 
 and you are to take me driving every day." 
 
 "Oh!" he cried "oh!" and covered his face with 
 his hands, heart-broken and unable to speak another 
 word, as there swept over him the maddening recollec- 
 tion of other companionship he had sought, forgetful 
 of her in the drives he had taken through the summer. 
 
 "You know how I hate to go with you," she said, 
 playfully and quickly, divining the cause of his pain. 
 " That terrible horse of yours ! " 
 
 He raised his head, slightly comforted. 
 
 " Are you really afraid of it still ? " 
 
 " Horribly. I agree with the psalmist that ' an horse 
 is a vain thing for safety.' " 
 
 " But it is perfectly gentle. You could almost drive 
 it yourself now." 
 
 She broke into a cheerful little laugh. " I shouldn't 
 like to try. Sometimes when I have seen you starting 
 off I have half wished that dear old farmer friend of 
 yours had presented you with a cow." 
 
 "But I couldn't possibly drive a cow," said Roger, 
 with a wan smile, striving piteously to meet her mood. 
 
 " It would be much safer," she answered, with gentle 
 teasing. 
 
 154
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 She lay quite still for a moment, and then breathed 
 a deep sigh. 
 
 "You can't think what a relief it is now that you 
 know. The thought that I had to tell you has been 
 over me day and night. It was making me sleepless 
 and iller than I need have been, and to-day Dr. Bev- 
 erley suspected, and made me promise that I would 
 talk to you as soon as you came in. You see it isn't 
 very serious, after all." 
 
 There was a long silence. He wanted to encourage 
 her, to help her to maintain the cheerful view which, 
 in his ignorance of the disease, seemed to him a health- 
 ful sign and the one straw of hope left to him to clutch 
 to. But he couldn't speak. There was a lump in 
 his throat, and his heart was like lead within him. 
 
 Presently a clock in a church steeple sounded the 
 hour of one, the single stroke ringing out in solemn 
 reverberation over the sleeping town. He half started 
 up, and then sat down again. 
 
 " But there is something else ? " he said. 
 
 "Yes; there is something else." 
 
 He waited. A tremor of excitement swept through 
 her, and her eyes grew troubled and faltered. 
 
 "I believe I am half afraid of you, you dear big 
 thing. To think I ever held you the whole of you 
 in my arms!" 
 
 Still he waited. His own breath was coming hard. 
 155
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 He thought he knew of what she was about to speak to 
 him, and his heart recoiled in anguish. He bowed his 
 head. 
 
 " Roger, it is about your grandfather. I want you 
 to go to see him," she said, at length, with a sob in her 
 voice. " I know that you think he has been cruel 
 cruel, and it is hard for you to forgive; you are so 
 proud. It was hard for your father, and you are like 
 him, so like him that you almost startled me when you 
 first came in to-night." 
 
 She lay studying her son's face, its high-bred con- 
 tours, the stag-like poise of the head, the swift, varying 
 expression in the dark gray eyes; and there swept over 
 her, as it had done a thousand times recently, a poign- 
 ant dread, as she realized, apart from prejudice, its 
 strength and lovableness, its quality of charm that 
 gave a certain picturesqueness to his simplest action. 
 But her tact was of the finest, and she gave no voice to 
 the secret anxiety that she kept deep down in her 
 heart. She could even bring herself to speak to him 
 on the subject which, by mutual but unspoken agree- 
 ment, had not been mentioned between them for years 
 but not that. His love affairs were his own. 
 
 "I dislike to ask you, dear. But I know you will 
 not refuse me," she said, presently. 
 
 He ran his hand wearily across his brow. Then it 
 was not that. 
 
 156
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 " I have been to see him," he said, slowly, at last. 
 "He was not there. He had gone East to consult a 
 specialist." 
 
 She looked at him in astonishment. "You have 
 been!" she cried. 
 
 " I promised Judge Fontaine." 
 
 Her expression changed from wonderment to satis- 
 faction. But she only said very quietly: 
 
 "He has just returned. I should like you to go 
 again, if you will, to-morrow, or if not then, the first 
 day that you can. Roger, you will do this for me ? " 
 
 He did not answer. But as she turned a troubled, 
 half timid look upon him, he bent down and folded his 
 arms about her in an agony of apprehension and of 
 regret. 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear, dearest," he cried, " I will. There 
 is nothing on earth I wouldn't do for you. I would 
 give my life for you, if it would do you any good. 
 Try, try to believe I would!" 
 
 157
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 IT was Sunday morning a few days later and the 
 Beverleys were at breakfast. They lived in a large 
 red-brick house with tall gray pillars and a high porch 
 in front, that stood some distance back from the street 
 and was on a line with the home of Colonel Theophilus 
 Hart and of Judge Jeremiah Fontaine. 
 
 Nine o'clock had just sounded, and breakfast was 
 being served an hour later than on week-days, a con- 
 cession that was always welcomed with delight from 
 Judith to the youngest. There were five children in 
 all, and as each had come straggling into the library a 
 few moments before, a short, stout gentleman with 
 a smooth face and a sparsely covered head, sitting in 
 an armchair near the window, laid down his morning 
 paper, smiled cheerily over his gold-rimmed spectacles, 
 and pursed up his lips to be kissed. Upon their steps, 
 followed by the negro butler, came Mrs. Beverley in 
 an elaborate morning gown of pale lavender silk with 
 knots of purple velvet and a flowing train that swept 
 
 158
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 grandly behind her; and at sight of her Dr. Beverley 
 arose with all the alertness his stiffening joints would 
 allow, and stood bowing as before a queen. Then the 
 procession had filed into the dining-room with a cere- 
 mony that was somewhat amusingly in contrast with 
 the freedom of behavior that marked the entrance of 
 the young people into their father's presence before 
 the arrival of their more august parent. 
 
 Dr. Beverley was a philosopher, fortunately for him 
 and for his household. There is a type of man whom 
 Mrs. Beverley would have driven to desperation with 
 her self-centered, unceasing demands, her determina- 
 tion to be always elegant, and her pain at the slightest 
 infringement upon the rules of life and conduct which 
 she had rigidly laid down. But there existed between 
 the two a harmony that was seldom disturbed; and in 
 yielding to her in all the small things of life he mani- 
 fested the large tolerance that makes a man none the 
 less the master in moments of important decision. 
 She was thirty-two when he married her, a widow, 
 childless, still handsome, and very much sought after, 
 though not always with motives so worthy as were the 
 doctor's. It had been a love match, in spite of many 
 seeming incongruities; and he had remained her lover 
 throughout a married life of three-and-twenty years. 
 
 If ever a man's calling was stamped upon him, Dr. 
 Beverley wore the marks of his. His pale gray eyes, 
 
 159
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 keen, sympathetic, discerning, possessing a power of 
 penetrative insight that seemed at times almost clair- 
 voyant, were a physician's eyes, the eyes of one who 
 had looked long upon disease and death and suffering, 
 it is true, yet, by a certain wholesome process of read- 
 justment, a nice balancing of the forces that upbuild 
 with those that destroy, had at last attained a hopeful 
 peace : the humble equipoise, in part divine, that comes 
 to those who have known the joy of healing. His 
 loose, baggy trousers, his soft silk tie and wide-brimmed 
 hat, sometimes gave an impression of comicality to 
 those who saw him for the first time. But it vanished 
 speedily on acquaintance; and no one who had once 
 seen him at the bedside of the truly ailing ever again 
 felt disposed to laugh at any eccentricity of his. There, 
 he was no longer a queer little man with an irascibility 
 that occasionally wrestled with his ordinary cordial 
 good-humor and overthrew it, but a giant who brought 
 calm and reassurance with his mere presence. 
 
 As he entered the dining-room he still held in one 
 hand the newspaper which he had not finished reading. 
 On sitting down he had first carefully folded it in a 
 peculiar oblong shape, and then laid it on the table at 
 his side, not, however, daring to take it up again, 
 although his glance fell rather longingly upon it once 
 or twice after he had finished his cantaloupe. 
 
 Judith sat next to him, and she watched him with 
 160
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 a merry twinkle in her eyes. Presently she bent down 
 and examined the part of the paper that was upper- 
 most. The name of a well-known society reporter 
 glared at her from the headlines. 
 
 "What is Rosalie Raymond dilating upon to-day?" 
 she asked, with a slightly sarcastic inflection, not, how- 
 ever, intended for her father, whose curious interest in 
 other people's affairs she shared and fostered, being 
 ever ready dutifully to give him the benefit of her own 
 superior and extensive knowledge with regard to the 
 latest happenings of the town. As a matter of fact, 
 the doctor was as gossipy as an old woman; and he 
 was only prevented by professional demands from 
 devouring daily and with keenest relish the personal 
 notes and comments that took up a large portion of the 
 space of the local newspapers. 
 
 He scowled a little impatiently, stirred his coffee 
 with an air of preoccupation, and compelled her to 
 repeat the question. 
 
 Judith was not easily disconcerted. Moreover, she 
 began to suspect that there was something in that 
 particular chronicle which she had not seen, of special 
 importance, possibly of individual concern, and that 
 her father was eager to impart it, being only restrained 
 by her mother's unrelenting exaction with reference to 
 the proper decorum and topics to be made use of at 
 meal times. 
 
 161
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " I don't see what she finds to write about. Nothing 
 ever happens in this dull old town," she remarked, with 
 the deliberate purpose of drawing him out. 
 
 The doctor's glance wandered the length of the 
 table, and rested upon one after another of his hungry 
 progeny, lingering finally with Mrs. Beverley in a sort 
 of shamefaced inquiry. But the suave features gave 
 no sign. 
 
 "I should say that she finds a good deal," he an- 
 swered, helping himself to another choice bit of broiled 
 chicken, and allowing himself to skirt with careful 
 agility about the tempting subject, keeping always a 
 watchful eye upon his wife. "She appears to be in a 
 particularly felicitous mood this morning, and she is 
 simply bubbling over with merriment like a happy 
 child. There is never anything barbed in her pleas- 
 antries." 
 
 A slender blonde boy at the far end of the table 
 looked up from his plate. 
 
 " Isn't there ? " he inquired, sardonically. " You just 
 wait until her bow is aimed at you." 
 
 Judith regarded him coolly for an instant. "Oh, 
 that's because she called you a boy the other day, and 
 you want to be treated as a decrepit old man with a 
 crutch and a cane," she observed, with a shrug. 
 
 The boy knew better than to reply, but his face 
 flushed. He was next in point of age to Judith, 
 
 162
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 although her junior by four years. He was a hand- 
 some lad of seventeen, or thereabout, very much like 
 his mother, and distinctly her favorite of all her chil- 
 dren. He went on eating in sullen silence, and the 
 doctor, ignoring the slight interruption, began again. 
 
 "She is a most remarkable young woman, and she 
 is always entertaining. I am confident that her pen 
 alone does more to attract subscribers to the paper 
 than the entire force combined. It was not for naught 
 that I brought her safely through the whooping-cough 
 and the measles and the rest of her childish disorders." 
 
 Mrs. Beverley coughed elegantly. 
 
 " Is there ahem is there anything of special 
 interest that she has to relate this morning ? Otherwise 
 I think we would better speak of something else." 
 
 The doctor looked mysterious. 
 
 " Just as you please, my dear. But there was 
 one thing." 
 
 A gleam of curiosity shone in Mrs. Beverley's eyes. 
 She raised herself slightly and sat waiting, a reposeful 
 figure, yet expectant. But the doctor now appeared 
 disposed to let the topic fall. 
 
 "Who is that young woman who is staying at Tim 
 CaldwelPs ? " he asked, with seeming irrelevance. 
 
 "An adventuress," cut in Judith, shortly. 
 
 Mrs. Beverley was amiably annoyed. Judith's 
 bluntness and indiscretion of speech were things that 
 
 163
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 she found it impossible to reconcile herself to. The 
 fact that the girl disdained all polish was something 
 that she had learned to face, gradually, and after 
 countless failures in the attempt to mold her into 
 something that she at last realized her eldest daughter 
 could never be. But that the two younger girls, 
 children though they still were, should have before 
 them constantly an example of such daring disregard 
 of all her precepts threatened a state of things for the 
 future that she by no means relished. In the mean- 
 time the two sons, the elder in particular, were her 
 hope and her consolation. 
 
 "An adventuress, is she?" inquired the doctor, 
 gravely. "I am sorry for that, very sorry for that, 
 indeed." He was silent for a moment, as if weighing 
 the matter with all seriousness from a varied point of 
 view. " She is a strikingly beautiful person, but not 
 not altogether pleasing. I have met her driving with 
 young Boiling a number of times recently, sometimes far 
 from home, and I have wanted to shoo them back to 
 town. I don't like that young woman's face, and I have 
 an idea that Mrs. Boiling wouldn't fancy it any more 
 than I do. How much longer is she to remain here ? " 
 
 Mrs. Beverley turned to her youngest daughter, 
 whose eyes were wide and wondering. 
 
 "Eat your waffle, darling, it is getting cold," she 
 commanded, with difficulty restraining her amusement, 
 
 164
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 which ventured to break forth into one of her pro- 
 longed spells of laughter at sight of the child's interested 
 but bewildered expression. Then she looked toward 
 the doctor. 
 
 " Mrs. Caldwell's guest, do you mean ? She is to 
 remain some time longer, I believe. Mrs. Caldwell 
 told me in a shop yesterday that there was an epidemic 
 of diphtheria or something in Jefferson County where 
 Miss Day teaches school, aad she thought it would 
 be dangerous for her to return." 
 
 "Humph!" replied the doctor, shortly. "It may 
 be even more dangerous for her to remain." 
 
 He sat tapping with one fat forefinger upon the 
 table-cloth. He had forgotten all about his breakfast, 
 and his mind was busy with the solution of a problem 
 that had given him no little anxiety of late, the prob- 
 lem of the secret sorrow that seemed to be at the root 
 of Mrs. Boiling's illness. 
 
 "How is Mrs. Boiling?" his wife asked, seeing his 
 disturbed looks, and beginning to realize at last that 
 there was something back of his seemingly idle ques- 
 tioning. 
 
 The doctor ran his hand wearily across his brow. 
 "Worse, very much worse," he said, briefly. Then 
 his eyes fell upon the paper again at his side, and 
 regardless of disapproval he snatched it up and turned 
 to a short notice. 
 
 165
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "Can any of you tell me who is meant by this?" 
 he demanded. He pronounced the words very slowly 
 and distinctly, first adjusting his eyeglasses with great 
 deliberation. He read: 
 
 " ' One of the most interesting of the numerous 
 matrimonial rumors afloat concerns a beautiful auburn- 
 haired young woman, who has been for the past six 
 weeks a guest of this place, and a handsome young 
 attorney of distinguished pedigree, who is very much 
 liked both in social and professional circles. This 
 column does not venture to be more explicit, but, in 
 reference to the happy bridegroom that is to be, it 
 may be suggestive to say that an excellent model 
 doubtless lurks for him in one of his initials which 
 is the name of a certain diligent and much lauded 
 insect of whose virtues his success gives evidence of 
 imitation.' ' 
 
 As in sonorous tones the paragraph rolled from the 
 doctor's h'ps, Judith's face blanched. She sat clutch- 
 ing her napkin in her lap, twisting it into a number 
 of vicious little folds, but she dared not trust herself to 
 speak. With the usual injustice of the shallow-hearted, 
 after the first shock of surprise and angry disappoint- 
 ment had subsided, she had transferred her emotion 
 from the real cause to the person merely indirectly 
 associated with her pain; and had the power of an 
 ancient queen been hers, and had the bearer of such 
 
 166
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 
 
 unpleasant tidings been brought into her presence, it 
 assuredly had fared ill with the society reporter in 
 that moment. 
 
 But she was saved from the awkwardness of the 
 situation by a diversion. A servant entered with a 
 telephone message for the doctor. The case was 
 urgent. The doctor pushed back his plate, mur- 
 mured an apology, and left at once. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards Judith was walking quickly 
 down the little gravel foot-path toward the gate. 
 With one hand she held up the skirt of her white lawn 
 gown, and with the other she grasped the handle of a 
 large wicker basket filled with fruit which she had 
 herself selected from the pantry's abundance with 
 most particular care. The September sun shone 
 gloriously, but now and then a searing leaf was blown 
 across the lawn, and at sight of it, Judith, who was not 
 ordinarily given to a discernment of the symbolic in 
 the manifestations of nature, being of the prosaic 
 type to which the primrose by the river's brim might 
 suggest a becoming color for a ball gown, but scarcely 
 anything more serious, set her teeth together and 
 choked back the tears that sprang into her eyes. By 
 a thoroughly commonplace association of ideas the 
 thought of withered hopes and withered leaves became 
 entangled, so that it was not until she had reached her 
 
 167
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 destination, a small one-story brick building a short 
 distance up the street, that she was able to force her 
 features into their usual expression of half stolid 
 unconcern. 
 
 She was bent upon a somewhat difficult mission, 
 and one that a more sensitive nature would have 
 shrunk from. But she was not one to suffer the agony 
 of uncertainty while there were any possible means 
 of relief. Hers were not to be the midnight vigils 
 born of suspense, if she could help it; and she was of 
 the opinion that she could help it by a few well chosen 
 inquiries directed to the author of that most disturb- 
 ing notice. Doubtless, she decided, there was no 
 truth in it, and it was only one of those daring news- 
 paper announcements that are sometimes made at 
 the sacrifice of the individual for the sake of a sensa- 
 tion. Rosalie Raymond was quite equal to that, she 
 believed. 
 
 Miss Raymond was at home, the servant informed 
 her, and would see Miss Beverley on the porch. 
 
 Judith, still clutching her basket of fruit, and with 
 a slightly quickening heart-throb, followed the negro 
 maid through the dimly lighted hall, and was ushered 
 out upon a comfortable veranda, shady with vines, 
 and furnished like a little sitting-room, where there 
 were rugs and cool, inviting-looking chairs, a sofa with 
 pillows, and a table in the center strewn with books. 
 
 168
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 In a hammock at the far end of the porch a young 
 woman lay with magazines and newspapers to the right 
 and left of her. She was a very pretty young woman, 
 rosy-cheeked, brown-eyed, brown-haired, with a sweetly 
 innocent little laugh that somewhat belied the caustic 
 pen she wielded. At sight of Judith and her burden 
 a ripple of merriment swept across her face, and the 
 very apt quotation, " I fear the Greeks when they come 
 bringing gifts," flashed into her mind. But she held 
 out a thoroughly cordial hand. She made an effort to 
 rise and half a dozen magazines tumbled to the floor, 
 but left her still entangled. 
 
 "You see I can't give you a decent welcome," she 
 said, as she struggled to her feet. 
 
 "OH, don't bother," replied Judith, with a shrug. 
 "You know I don't go in for ceremony; I have enough 
 of that sort of thing at home." She put down her 
 basket. "I have brought you some fruit. These 
 pears are delicious; I ate three at breakfast. I thought 
 you might like to have some." 
 
 The tone was entirely matter-of-fact, and it was 
 even a trifle misleading. Miss Raymond was half 
 ashamed of herself. Yet she found it a little difficult 
 to be persuaded into the belief that Judith's ap- 
 pearance on that particular morning prognosticated 
 nothing. 
 
 She was a young woman who had taken up journalism 
 169
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 as a fad and was pursuing it as a necessity; only 
 she would have said that it was pursuing her. Well- 
 born, well-read, distinctly clever, she had soon wearied 
 of society as an aim and sought another outlet for her 
 pent-up energies and nimble wits. For a while it had 
 rather entertained her to send to the local newspapers 
 desultory sketches of passing events, worked up with 
 considerable selective ability and expressed with a 
 certain dash and daring, coupled with discretion, that 
 made her a valuable acquisition to an editor. But 
 there had come a reversal of fortune, and with the 
 absolute need for its continuance, her zest for her w r ork 
 had vanished. She had grown to loathe it. It had 
 given her, it is true, a knowledge of human nature 
 which, without its assistance, she might have been years 
 in acquiring. But it was the sort of knowledge she 
 would rather not have had. Already that particular 
 notice was weighing heavily upon her conscience. She 
 hated the very wording of it; she hated the whole 
 tiresome thing. What was it to her who was married 
 or to be given in marriage ? And why all this ceaseless 
 twaddle about the inane affairs of people for whom she 
 didn't care a straw ? It seemed to her, as she pondered, 
 an unworthy pandering to the low curiosity of the 
 vulgar; and more than once the proud face of Roger 
 Boiling, flushed, indignant, had come before her, 
 sternly demanding explanation of her unwarrantable 
 
 170
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 liberty with his name. And yet was she not privi- 
 leged in this instance? 
 
 Judith was sitting on the edge of her chair, as if 
 intending to leave immediately, her errand having been 
 accomplished. She gave an approving glance around. 
 
 "You certainly are very comfortable here," she 
 observed in a low tone that was intended to be concilia- 
 tory, but somehow fell just a little short of compliment, 
 owing to a characteristic defect that made the critical 
 her more natural form of expression. 
 
 Rosalie Raymond coughed softly. She was begin- 
 ning to be entertained. Her keen insight had given 
 her a knowledge of her fellow-being that had left her, 
 in the main, pitying rather than contemptuous. Judith 
 was not at all difficult, ordinarily. Nor was she par- 
 ticularly appealing. But to-day there was that in her 
 clumsiness that seemed touching. 
 
 " Comfortable, am I ? " she echoed. " But it is what 
 you are not. Do lean back a little, Judith. You look 
 as if you had not a proper appreciation of my pretty 
 pink pillows. Your mother never touches the back of 
 her chair, I know, but she is of the old regime, and 
 we alas, we are the degenerates. I can't have too 
 many soft cushions about me, and I delight in eider- 
 down, and all that it stands for." 
 
 "But I really can't stay," said Judith; "and it is 
 time for you to dress for church." 
 
 171
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " Don't think me quite a heathen, but I am not going 
 to church. I am too horribly tired." 
 
 " I don't wonder," assented Judith, sympathetically. 
 
 "Yesterday was a most overwhelmingly busy day. 
 I had half a dozen things to report, and there were 
 innumerable small items which I had to record." 
 
 " But you don't have to be particularly accurate, do 
 you, when writing up the small notices ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes. The small ones are quite as important 
 as the large ones; sometimes a little more so." 
 
 " But I mean " Judith stumbled, but regained her 
 equilibrium " oh, I just mean about rumors and 
 tilings like that. You don't, of course, try to be strictly 
 accurate when mentioning matters that are merely 
 hearsay, do you ? " 
 
 "Yes; I always try to be accurate, and I seldom 
 mention matters that are merely hearsay." 
 
 Judith's eyes grew round and a faint color crept 
 into her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak 
 and then closed it again. She was breathing quickly. 
 
 Rosalie Raymond's eyes were downcast. She lay 
 toying with the fringe on her hammock. She did not 
 appear to take the smallest notice of the girl's agita- 
 tion, but one swift glance out of her heavily fringed 
 lashes had told her the whole pathetic story. 
 
 " You see, I simply have to be always strictly accu- 
 rate, to use your phrase," she said. Her voice had 
 
 172
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 grown very kind. "If I were not, I might possibly 
 get the paper into all sorts of trouble, and, of course, I 
 should dislike to do anything like that. Then, for 
 purely selfish reasons, I do not want to make any 
 blunders; I have my little prides and ambitions. And 
 I also have a conscience, though there be some who 
 are disposed to doubt that. ,1 confess that it is not 
 always at peace, in spite of my boasted exactness." 
 
 Judith sat bolt upright. With an impatient move- 
 ment she freed herself from the all-encompassing 
 pillows. She flung one to the extreme end of the 
 sofa. 
 
 " This thing is making me so hot ! " she exclaimed, 
 irritably. She slowly drew on her gloves. Then she 
 rose, hearkening to the church bells. "I am afraid 
 I am going to be too late," she said. "If I guess," 
 she added, carelessly, "who was meant by your refer- 
 ence to 'the little busy bee,' will you tell me whether 
 I am right or not ? " 
 
 Rosalie Raymond hesitated for the briefest possible 
 space. 
 
 "I will," she answered, looking away. 
 
 "You meant Marjorie Randall and Howard Bloom- 
 field, of course." 
 
 "But Mr. Bloomfield is not 'a handsome young 
 attorney of distinguished pedigree,' and Miss Randall 
 is not 'a beautiful visitor with auburn locks." 5 
 
 173
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "Then it is that little red-haired Miss Earlston, of 
 Philadelphia, and Bernard Grayson. He certainly is a 
 lawyer, and one of his initials is B." 
 
 "No, no. You are wrong again. I give you one 
 more guess." 
 
 Judith looked thoughtful for a moment, and finally 
 shook her head. 
 
 "I am afraid I shall have to give it up," she said. 
 Two bright little spots burned in her cheeks, and her 
 voice broke a little. "Perhaps, if I could stay longer 
 I might think of the right ones, but that is the last 
 bell, and I have to go. I was never very good at guess- 
 ing." 
 
 But Rosalie Raymond knew that Judith had already 
 guessed. After she had gone, she leaned toward the 
 table that was beside her hammock, and from one of 
 the books in which she had hurriedly placed it she 
 took forth a letter, which she had been re-reading when 
 Judith's name was brought to her. It was in a light- 
 blue envelope, and was adddressed in a bold, would-be- 
 fashionable handwriting, a rather aggressive monogram 
 adorning the sheet within. It ran: 
 
 " MY DEAR Miss RAYMOND, You asked me to let 
 you know when I should leave Lexington, and I am 
 going to make you the sharer of my happy secret to 
 the extent of saying that I have decided to remain 
 indefinitely. Mr. Boiling and I are not quite ready 
 
 174
 
 JUDITH ATTEMPTS A RUSE 
 
 for any formal announcement of our engagement as 
 yet in fact we have not even discussed the matter 
 of the announcement at all, having, as you will, of 
 course, readily understand, more absorbing subjects 
 just now to entertain us. But I realize how much it 
 must be to a reporter to be the first to make mention 
 of any item of interest, and therefore if, without call- 
 ing any names, and merely by way of innuendo, you 
 should care to make a reference to what I have told 
 you, you may feel privileged to do so. I know that 
 you will do this in your own brilliant and charming 
 style, and that you will be glad to have me take you, 
 in this friendly way, into my confidence. Believe me, 
 with warm appreciation of the many delightful and 
 flattering things you have already said of me, 
 Very cordially yours, 
 
 MARIAN DAY. 
 
 175
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 ON the same Sunday morning Roger had waked 
 out of a troubled sleep, and was startled to find that 
 the day was already far advanced. All through the 
 early hours of the night he had tossed, brain-racked 
 and well-nigh distracted, his mind grappling, as on 
 the several nights previous, with the hard realities that 
 confronted him, and knowing them even more impla- 
 cable than when first encountered. His mother's seri- 
 ous illness, hitherto unsuspected, followed him like a 
 specter. There was no escape from it, and it added 
 a new and appalling condition to a situation already 
 sufficiently difficult; so that to inflict upon her now the 
 crushing fact of his engagement seemed a brutality 
 that he could not for an instant consider. And yet, 
 how could he hope long to keep it from her? Every 
 wind that blew would waft to her the story of his fatal 
 blunder. She would hear it in the careful avoid- 
 ance of her friends as well as in the unrestrained 
 reference of more thoughtless persons. Above all, 
 
 176
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 she would hear it in his own tender, remorseful solici- 
 tude, as he sought to shield her with unceasing care. 
 For upon one thing he was sternly determined; that 
 he would devote himself to her with an assiduity which, 
 for the present, should admit of no conflicting claim. 
 It was the only concession he could make, the only 
 atonement he could offer. His honor, deep-rooted, 
 instinctive embryonic as yet with regard to the con- 
 ception of the sanctity of the marriage relation was 
 unrelenting in the elementary acceptance of the irrevo- 
 cableness of his compact. 
 
 But, though there was relief for him in that decision, 
 he was still far too perturbed to sleep, and it was not 
 till long after midnight that he had sunk into a sort of 
 semi-conscious state in which vague, confusing images 
 floated slowly before his eyes, now alluring, now men- 
 acing, while all the time there sounded a faint dirge- 
 like monotone, to the accompaniment of which his soul 
 seemed ever slipping down, down into an unknown 
 and fathomless abyss. 
 
 At last he had fallen into the deep sleep of exhaus- 
 tion, and finally he had dreamed. The ocean was all 
 about him, and he was on a burning ship from which 
 there was no escape. In the midst of the pandemo- 
 nium of shrieks and curses, the frenzy of desperation 
 on every side, now and then a voice would be raised 
 in prayer, and gradually the realization would be borne 
 
 177
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 in upon him that it was his own voice, beseeching 
 Heaven for others and for himself; and then, as he 
 stood, keeping his eyes turned resolutely upward despite 
 the horror, sometimes he would see a spirit take its 
 flight and, longing unspeakably to follow, would know 
 that he could not, because his time had not yet come. 
 His it was to wait, and wait, and wait, while the de- 
 moniac flames writhed, and leaped, and crackled, and 
 the sea grew grim and terrible beneath the awful red 
 light. At length a loud report echoed over the heav- 
 ing waters; the ship seemed to pause an instant, and 
 then a mighty shiver shook it, and it rocked and 
 trembled like a thing alive and in agony. Then it 
 began slowly to sink. But when he opened his eyes 
 again and turned for a last look about him a shock of 
 surprise went through him; for it seemed that he had 
 been all along almost in sight of land. The ship had 
 drifted to harbor and he was the last one left aboard. 
 On the shore a white-robed figure stood reaching out 
 lovely, beseeching arms. As he gazed the figure grew 
 distinct, then beautiful, then familiar. With a low cry 
 he sprang into the waves. He woke with a start, a 
 name still lingering on his lips. For the face was one 
 that he must not remember, and the name was the 
 name of Sibyl Fontaine. 
 
 He lay for a moment unable to grasp the actual, 
 dazed, and quivering in every nerve. His eyes still 
 
 178
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 held the look of awe and rapture that had sprung into 
 them just before he waked. But as there rushed over 
 him the acute consciousness of his present misery, 
 heightened in that instant by contrast with the ultimate 
 peace of his dream, a wave of despair swept over him, 
 and at thought of what he had lost of the best of life 
 a stifled groan broke from him and he buried his face 
 in the pillow. 
 
 But he had grown outwardly calm when he came 
 down-stairs a few moments later, and as usual he had 
 forced his features to an expression that concealed his 
 inward perturbation, when he sought his mother's 
 presence. He had dressed hurriedly, disturbed that 
 he had kept her waiting. 
 
 But she was not sitting in her accustomed seat by 
 the window as he had thought she should be; nor was 
 she anywhere around. With quickly beating heart he 
 was starting up-stairs again when a servant met him 
 with a note a few hurried words which she had 
 scribbled in pencil to tell him that she had not slept 
 well during the night and was then feeling a little 
 drowsy, so that she would not join him at breakfast. 
 She expressed the wish that he would take that morning 
 to make another attempt to see his grandather, the 
 visit of a day or two before having failed of its purpose, 
 and suggested that he go a few moments before church 
 time. 
 
 179
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 There was something urgent in her insistence, despite 
 the playfulness and the airy grace of the note so 
 characteristic of her that even in that moment he was 
 conscious of its elegance something that seemed to 
 imply a reason for haste; and with a sickening dread 
 Roger took out a card and wrote his answer. 
 
 "Give that to her," he said, "if she should wake 
 before I return." 
 
 He rang for James, and then again wandered into 
 the little drawing-room and sat down beside his 
 mother's chair. The morning newspapers were lying 
 on the table, and as he waited for his breakfast to be 
 served in the adjoining room, mechanically he picked 
 up the one that happened to be uppermost. He ran 
 carelessly over the headlines, and then, as James was 
 slow, he opened the paper and glanced down the inner 
 portions. By the merest chance, for he did not share 
 Dr. Beverley's interest in the personal affairs of his 
 neighbors, his eye was caught by something on Rosalie 
 Raymond's page. An instant afterward he drew in 
 his breath, and a smothered exclamation broke from 
 him. Then he slowly, as if weighing every word, re- 
 read the notice relating to himself and Marian Day. 
 
 For a long time he sat perfectly still, holding the paper 
 in his hand, and thinking deeply. Then the indigna- 
 tion in his face gave way to another expression an 
 expression of intensest shame. A horrible suspicion 
 
 180
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 had flashed into his mind, and it had left him com- 
 pletely crushed and humiliated. For it was something 
 that even in his most secret thoughts he could not quite 
 bring himself to formulate. 
 
 With an abrupt gesture he rose and, crumpling the 
 paper in his hands, flung it into the grate. Then he 
 put a match to it, and stood grimly watching it as it 
 crisped and burned. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards he was on his way to his 
 grandfather's, the painful tension he had been under 
 finding a certain relief in movement, and in the thought 
 that he was obeying his mother's most earnest desire. 
 The dread which ordinarily he would have felt of the 
 encounter, and which he had been conscious of on 
 each of the two former occasions when he had sought 
 an interview with the stern old soldier who had main- 
 tained through all the years such an unrelenting atti- 
 tude toward his mother and himself, was overbalanced 
 by other emotions far more potent and disturbing. 
 
 So far as he himself was concerned he cared little 
 for the outcome. His grandfather had never been 
 aught to him but a stranger, and he felt no disposition 
 to heal the breach that had been of Colonel Hart's 
 own making. But for his mother's sake he did hope 
 that he would to some extent be able to bring about the 
 reconciliation she longed for. To do this he was well 
 
 181
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 aware that he must be circumspect and submissive to 
 a degree far beyond what was usually manifest in his 
 deportment, and that he must under no conditions 
 declare himself with regard to his own private views 
 on the subject of the Civil War. 
 
 As Roger went quickly up the flight of steps leading 
 into the picturesque, white-pillared mansion, an old 
 negro who was busy in the hall came forward and stood 
 bowing, with his feather duster in his hand. 
 
 "He feelin' mighty poo'ly, but I 'spec' he'll see 
 you," he remarked in reply to Roger's inquiry. "I 
 done tole him you come day befo' yistiddy, an' he sot 
 right still a long time an' den he say, ' Ef he comes 
 ag'in,' dem was he ve'y words, an' no mistake, he say, 
 ' Ef he comes ag'in you may ax him in, Lish,' an' he 
 made me go and git dat cyard o' yourn, an' he got it 
 now a-stickin' in de side o' his shavin' stan'." 
 
 The old darky was plainly agitated. Being one 
 of the ancient retainers of the house, there were few 
 of its secrets that he was not acquainted with, and he 
 knew that the occasion was momentous. He gave 
 Roger a sly encouraging wink as he ushered him into 
 the hall. 
 
 " I done fixed him he mint julep," he said, signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 The hall was long and wide, and it was interesting 
 with dim old family portraits and relics of pioneer, 
 
 182
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 and Revolutionary, and Colonial days. A hat-rack 
 composed of a stand on which rested an elk's head of 
 carved wood surmounted by a superb pair of antlers 
 was near the entrance, and as Roger paused an instant 
 before it there flashed into his mind the memory of a 
 day two-and-twenty years before when his mother had 
 brought him for the first time to see his grandfather, 
 on one of the only two visits she had ever dared to 
 pay him since her marriage. He could never after- 
 wards recall which bore the more important place in 
 his recollection, the elk or his grandfather. Each had 
 seemed equally formidable; and though by no means 
 a timid child, the stormy scene he had then been a 
 witness to seemed to justify the feeling that had been 
 awakened and the mental association which long had 
 lingered with him. 
 
 On the right of the hall were the long drawing- 
 rooms of his mother's girlhood, furnished in the fashion 
 of the sixties, with beflowered velvet carpets, carved 
 rosewood and satin damask, and white marble mantel- 
 pieces. As he looked within, a full-length portrait 
 of the slender girl of those days, dressed in the flowing 
 garments of the period and standing beside a rose- 
 covered trellis, looked forth at him from the shadows 
 with eyes of shy inquiry, so like and yet so unlike 
 his mother's. 
 
 After a while came the impatient click of a cane in 
 183
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 the hall and the sound of feeble footsteps. Roger rose, 
 unconsciously straightening himself to his full height 
 and standing with head thrown back. 
 
 Was he coming in peace or with the sword ? he asked 
 himself half humorously, as he waited. 
 
 There were a few words outside spoken in a deep 
 bass voice as to an attendant, and an instant afterward 
 the door was flung wide and a tall old gentleman of a 
 somewhat ruddy countenance, with white hair and 
 moustache, and an air of great dignity, stood leaning 
 upon his carved ivory-headed cane in the doorway. 
 He was very handsomely and carefully dressed, and 
 his long frock-coat was buttoned about his straight 
 military form as smoothly as if he were a figure in 
 wax designed to display the skill of a tailor. He stood 
 perfectly still for a moment, surveying his grandson 
 under his shaggy brows with an expression of very 
 keen and earnest inquiry. 
 
 The look in his cold gray eyes softened a little as he 
 came forward. He moved slowly, unsteadily, as if 
 every step were costing him a painful effort, and 
 Roger, realizing for the first time what a very old man 
 his grandfather was, sprang forward and wheeled the 
 armchair into position, touched in spite of himself. 
 
 "It is very kind of you to see me," he said, with 
 simple sincerity as he grasped the hand out-stretched 
 to him. 
 
 184
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 Colonel Theophilus Hart sat down, letting himself 
 with difficulty sink into the same large leathern chair 
 in the chimney corner in which he had sat on that 
 memorable day when Roger, a child of six, saw him 
 for the first time. 
 
 There was a moment's awkward silence in which 
 each seemed measuring the other's strength, and 
 again the proud face of the elder underwent a curious 
 change. His manner, though distant, was extremely 
 courteous, and, though watchful, it was most surpris- 
 ingly respectful. 
 
 "I was told of your former visit," he said, at length, 
 with his eyes still on the young man's face. 
 
 "It was not my first effort to see you," replied 
 Roger, very quietly, " I have been here twice recently." 
 
 "Twice?" 
 
 Colonel Hart waited inquiringly, his haughty spirit, 
 however, disdaining to manifest greater interest in the 
 announcement than if it had been made to him by the 
 veriest stranger. 
 
 " I was here one morning in July," remarked Roger, 
 in the same deferential but direct voice with which he 
 had first spoken. The tone was manly, entirely inno- 
 cent of the bumptiousness of youth a trait that the 
 colonel particularly abhorred and it was not too 
 conciliatory. 
 
 Colonel Hart reflected a moment. "Ah, that was 
 185
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 during my absence in the East," he replied, at 
 length. 
 
 "Was it an enjoyable trip that you had?" asked 
 Roger, a little stiffly, beginning to find conversation with 
 his grandfather anything but easy, and wishing that he 
 were safely through with the hard mission which he 
 had come upon. 
 
 "Enjoyable?" The sternness in the strong face 
 gave way to sadness, and an unspeakable loneliness 
 brooded in the downcast eyes. But presently, with a 
 gesture that seemed to hurl defiance at age and even 
 death itself, the drooping head was raised. "Enjoy- 
 able?" he repeated. "There is not much that is still 
 enjoyable to the man who has more than lived out the 
 allotted span; and like old Barzillai I may well ask, 
 'Can I hear any more the voice of singing men and 
 singing women ? ' But I am no longer seeking enjoy- 
 ment of life. I went East to consult a physician; and 
 it was a fool's errand to a fool." 
 
 " I am very sorry that you were not benefited," said 
 Roger, kindly. 
 
 The colonel's eyes flashed. "Benefited, sir?" I 
 did not expect to be benefited; I went merely to 
 gratify a whim of my old friend Walter Beverley, not 
 because I have an atom of respect for doctors and their 
 physic a damn set of humbugs in my opinion, the 
 last one of them except Beverley himself." 
 
 186
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 "My mother has the utmost confidence in Dr. 
 Beverley," said Roger, plunging with a little break in 
 his voice into the subject which he had only been 
 awaiting the opportunity to touch upon. " I am sorry 
 to say that she has had much need of his services 
 recently. Her health has failed rapidly." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 There was mingled distress and resentment in the 
 smothered ejaculation that broke from the aged 
 lips. 
 
 There was a courage in the way Roger threw back 
 his head and looked his grandfather in the face that 
 was oddly suggestive of the old man's undaunted spirit. 
 It was the same blood, hot, impulsive, daring, that had 
 refused pardon to his mother, that now in her child 
 rose majestic, sternly demanding for her what was her 
 due. He realized he was about to do it all in a totally 
 different way from the way he had intended, but an 
 irresistible wave of feeling drove him on. He went 
 straight to the point. 
 
 " Perhaps I should say, in explanation of my presence 
 here, if any explanation is needed," he said, "that I 
 have come to you in my mother's behalf. She is ill 
 seriously and she asks a reconciliation." 
 
 The colonel's face was tremulous with excitement 
 and two bright red spots burned in his cheeks. His 
 eyes shifted their gaze a little, but they held an unwilling 
 
 187
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 admiration. A low ground-swell of anger shook his 
 voice. 
 
 "Your mother was the favorite of all my children. 
 One after another the others died and left me until I 
 had only her, and she she defied me ! " 
 
 " Was it defiance to marry the man she loved instead 
 of one of your choosing ? " 
 
 " It was defiance, sir, to marry as she did." 
 
 "I deny that it was defiance, or anything else but 
 the noble, womanly act it was." 
 
 The colonel ground his teeth fiercely. "To marry 
 the son of the man I hated with my whole soul God, 
 that she should ask me to forgive her!" he muttered 
 under his breath. 
 
 "My father made her supremely happy. What 
 right had you, how dared you attempt to make her the 
 victim of your unjustifiable hate ? " 
 
 The young voice was stern and unrelenting now, and 
 like the embodiment of an accusing conscience Roger 
 sat with his eyes fixed upon his grandfather's quivering 
 face. 
 
 Presently the old man sank back into his chair. 
 
 "Ha! she has taught you to despise me, I see," he 
 said, bitterly. 
 
 "She never taught me an unworthy thing in all my 
 life," replied Roger, with loyal, boyish indignation. 
 "She" 
 
 188
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 But all at once he broke off abruptly. Something in 
 his grandfather's face had both startled and silenced 
 him. Colonel Hart was sitting motionless. His head 
 was bowed, and the expression of the distorted features 
 was one to check the impetuous outburst that was 
 rising to the young man's lips, and change his anger to 
 pity. Never in all his life had he looked upon a more 
 despairing countenance. It was a face from which the 
 last gleam of interest in life had fled; and as he gazed, 
 gradually it was borne in upon Roger that he himself 
 was the cause of the sudden change that had so trans- 
 formed it, and that disappointment, disappointment in 
 him, was piercing the aged heart with anguish. For 
 he had caught the smothered words, uttered as if alone, 
 which his grandfather had spoken as he sat clutching 
 the arms of his chair, " Fool fool that I was 
 to hope " 
 
 Roger crossed the room quickly. He took a chair 
 and drew it up to his grandfather's side, and with one 
 of the shy, swift impulses that made him the lovable 
 being that he was, he reached forth and grasped 
 warmly the long bony fingers of the hand next to him. 
 
 "I wish I could make you see just how it all is," 
 he said, very simply and pleadingly. "My mother 
 never spoke a disrespectful word of you to me at any 
 time; even in her saddest, loneliest moments, when I 
 was too young to be much comfort to her, and when 
 
 189
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 there was no one else to turn to, she never had any 
 blame for anything you had done. Both she and my 
 father seemed to be able to understand and to pardon." 
 
 " I never had aught against your father save that he 
 was his father's son." 
 
 The words were spoken dully, as if the time for 
 argument were long, long past. 
 
 "But his father had been your most devoted friend," 
 put in Roger, tentatively. 
 
 "He ceased to be my friend when he became an 
 enemy to the South." 
 
 All at once the fire that had died out of the proud 
 face leaped back into it, and once more the gray eyes 
 flashed defiant. 
 
 "But for the action of the Conservative Union men," 
 he said in low, husky tones that echoed like the whisper 
 of a dying gladiator through the room, "but for such 
 men as Roger Boiling, this state would have gone 
 overwhelmingly into the Confederacy. The governor 
 was wholly in sympathy with the Southern cause. 
 After the firing on Fort Sumter, and when the presi- 
 dent made proclamation for troops, calling on Ken- 
 tucky for four regiments for governmental service, 
 what was the response that the governor of Kentucky 
 telegraphed in reply? He said: 'In answer, I say, 
 emphatically, Kentucky will furnish no troops for the 
 wicked purpose of subduing her sister Southern 
 
 190
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 states.' That was the spirit, sir, that animated some 
 of us, and but for the efforts of those, with their chimera 
 of mediatorial neutrality, who opposed Secession, we 
 who fought and bled for the cause we believed in 
 would not have had to steal forth like culprits to join 
 the Southern army. Mediatorial neutrality!" he re- 
 peated, scornfully. "And what was to be gained by 
 mediatorial neutrality " 
 
 "Much!" 
 
 The word shot from Roger's lips like a stone from 
 a catapult. He had grown suddenly pale, and as he 
 listened to his grandfather's denunciation of the Con- 
 servative Union men, the men whom of all others in 
 his state's history he most revered, words sprang 
 unbidden to his lips, and he found himself rushing to 
 their defense, regardless of consequences. 
 
 "Much, everything, was gained by it," he said, 
 firmly, but deferentially, "from their point of view. 
 Mediatorial neutrality meant delay, and delay meant 
 a decision, for the Union. Many of the Conserva- 
 tive Union men like my grandfather, were large 
 slave-owners. Their tastes, their ties, their sympa- 
 thies were Southern through and through. I cannot 
 see but that they were guided by the loftiest prin- 
 ciples that ever swayed a body of men, whether one 
 agree or disagree with them. They had not forgotten 
 those words which the Legislature of 1850 ordered 
 
 191
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 to be engraved upon the block of Kentucky marble 
 that was to be placed in the monument of General 
 Washington at the nation's capital : ' Under the auspices 
 of heaven and the precepts of Washington, Kentucky 
 will be the last to give up the Union.' " 
 
 He spoke quietly, but with feeling, for, as the grand- 
 son of one who had suffered much from principle, the 
 subject had always stirred him from his childhood. 
 
 Colonel Hart darted a swift glance from under his 
 shaggy brows. 
 
 "Let us understand each other," he said, coldly. 
 "You come here seeking a reconciliation of me, and 
 yet you dare to extol to my face the very men who 
 aided in bringing ruin and desolation upon the South." 
 
 Roger was silent. The tactlessness of praise which 
 could only enrage was something that he had most 
 unwisely been guilty of. Nothing had been further 
 from his thoughts than that he should have allowed 
 himself to be driven into a discussion of the merits of 
 the men he had just extolled. The old threadbare 
 themes relating to the war between the states, that had 
 so long been supplanted by other and more living 
 issues, had power to move him, it is true, as did every- 
 thing that concerned the past of his own people, but 
 only as a thing infinitely apart from his own life; 
 while to his grandfather, he realized all at once with a 
 sympathy born of contact, that the period they had 
 
 192
 
 COLONEL THEOPHILUS HART 
 
 so unfortunately touched upon was but as yesterday. 
 The men of that day of storm and stress, whose pulses 
 had fired and whose cheeks had paled with the awful 
 passions of warfare, were the only ones that had reality 
 to him ; they that had come afterward were but shadows, 
 the poor weak counterparts of those who had so mag- 
 nificently preceded them. Never could the breach 
 that had then been made between North and South 
 be healed. The tramp of a great nation marching 
 upward and onward through victory and through 
 defeat, a glad, united people, glorious in harmony 
 and in fraternal feeling, fell upon ears cold and in- 
 sensible. His proud spirit could break but it could 
 not bend. He could never be reconstructed. 
 
 Sorely troubled at his mistake, Roger was seeking 
 about in his mind for something soothing and kindly 
 that he might say, when the old gentleman turned 
 fiercely. 
 
 " Let us understand each other," he repeated, a light 
 leaping from his eyes like the flash from steel. "You 
 are my grandson, and you are the grandson of 
 Roger Boiling." He hesitated an instant and then 
 pronounced the name of the man he so deeply hated 
 and whom he had once so deeply loved in loud, distinct 
 tones. " Make your choice between us," he thundered, 
 "now and forever, for, by the Almighty, I will have 
 no shilly-shallying here!" It was the old pride of 
 
 193
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 leadership a prominent trait with the Kentuckian 
 of a bygone era which was again asserting itself, 
 impatient of opposition. 
 
 Roger met the stern gaze unflinching. The stillness 
 in the room was almost oppressive, and one might have 
 walked from the front doorway to the street before he 
 answered. 
 
 "You ask a wholly impossible thing," he said. 
 "One of my grandfathers I never saw. I am seeing 
 the other now practically for the first time. I should 
 like to honor both equally in my thoughts. It is not a 
 question of choice between either." 
 
 Though the tone was gentle it was unswerving, and 
 once more Colonel Hart forced the issue. 
 
 " It is a question of principle, sir, and I demand an 
 answer. Either Roger Bollmg was right and I was 
 wrong, or I was right and he was wrong. You seem 
 to have made some study of the history of your state, 
 and therefore you must know, had you lived in the 
 period I refer to, whether your place would have been 
 with him or with me." 
 
 But for the piteous signs of overwrought feeling in 
 the flushed countenance the inquiry would have been 
 almost a ludicrous one. 
 
 "But I did not live in that period," began Roger, 
 evasively, thinking of his mother and remorseful of his 
 blunder. " Every age has its own riddles, and all that 
 
 194
 
 any man has a right to ask of the past is that it teach 
 him to answer his soberly, and with an enlightened 
 conscience." 
 
 " But how can it teach him that," roared the colonel, 
 "unless he decide, had he been allowed to participate 
 in its conflicts, where his place would have been? 
 Either you would have been with Roger Boiling, or you 
 would have been with me. If you have not already 
 chosen between us, I command you to make your 
 choice now." 
 
 It was a moment of crisis, and Roger knew that 
 there was no escape. He stood up, and with the 
 feverish light still burning in his eyes the old man rose 
 also. 
 
 There was a brief waiting, and then the face of 
 the young man paled a little and his voice broke in 
 pity. 
 
 "I am sorry that you force my answer," he said. 
 " No man can tell what he would have done in a situa- 
 tion that never was presented to him; but as I see it all 
 to-day, I can only say that I think my place would have 
 been beside the man you hate." 
 
 The colonel wheeled suddenly, but a low, smothered 
 groan broke from him as he crossed the room and 
 touched the electric bell; and again he let fall the 
 words, " Fool fool ! " muttered between clenched 
 teeth. ^ 
 
 195
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " Show this young gentlemean to the door," he gave 
 order to the old negro, who appeared with a most 
 suspicious alacrity the instant the bell was touched. 
 " And see to it," he added without another glance in the 
 direction of his grandson, " that you do not admit him 
 here again." 
 
 196
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 IN THE SHADOW 
 
 ROGER went down the steps of his grandfather's 
 house with a heavy heart. The instantaneous anger 
 at the indignity which had been offered him had died 
 out of his face before he had reached the doorway, and 
 only a deep sense of pity and regret remained. But 
 for the surety of rebuff he would have gone back even 
 then to the lonely, bitter old man and sought to soothe 
 and comfort. He blamed himself only for the failure 
 of his visit. 
 
 He was beginning to realize as he had never done 
 before in his life the necessity of self-restraint, and he 
 was learning it through the sad lesson of defeat. It 
 was only after many downfalls that the fabled dwarf 
 became a giant; and it was not until long afterward, 
 when sorrow, and loss, and humiliation had done 
 their work with him, that Roger Boiling knew that 
 there had lurked a triumph for him in his every over- 
 throw. 
 
 For with his grandfather, as with Marian Day, 
 197
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 principle, as he understood it, had not swerved 
 although it was as yet more a thing of instinct with 
 him than of reason; and when driven to the test he 
 had had the manliness to abide by all that his own 
 rashness had brought upon him. He would make no 
 weak whine for himself. 
 
 But his heart ached at thought of his mother's dis- 
 appointment. He dreaded to tell her of the outcome 
 of his visit, not because he feared she would chide, but 
 because he knew that she would be so much more 
 patient with him than he deserved. 
 
 He went on up the street for several squares and 
 then turned to the right, walking briskly and looking 
 straight ahead of him, all unmindful of the beauty of 
 the soft September day. Soon he was out in the 
 country. 
 
 He had gone a mile or more and his brow had 
 cleared a little when he turned toward the town. 
 But he was in no mood for companionship even yet. 
 Presently he came to where there was a bend in the 
 road, and as he passed an old gateway some one 
 sitting on a moss-covered stone in its shadow looked 
 up and watched him curiously. 
 
 He passed on ignorant of observation. His hands 
 were in his pockets, and he was striving by mere 
 quickness of motion to flee the thoughts that pursued 
 him, his long athletic strides making rapid headway. 
 
 198
 
 IN THE SHADOW 
 
 But he had gone less than a hundred yards when he 
 was conscious that something more tangible than his 
 own unpleasant reflection was following hard upon 
 him. He heard a short breathing, and as he turned a 
 low laughter broke upon his ears. 
 
 Ah, that voice! The peculiar timbre of it that had 
 both attracted and repelled him that summer day at 
 the railway station, when he had heard it for the first 
 time, fell with a like effect upon his ears as he waited, 
 dully gazing in the face of the woman he had asked 
 to be his wife. 
 
 She was still panting from her run, and her eyes 
 were sparkling. 
 
 "It is a most unmaidenly proceeding," she ad- 
 mitted, with a toss of her head, "but I have just 
 made the humiliating discovery that I am not a mag- 
 net." 
 
 He did not take a step toward her, but a flush swept 
 into his face and then mounted slowly to the temples. 
 The words carried a reproach that stung. 
 
 "I willed with all my might that you should see me," 
 she continued, " and there was every reason why you 
 should; but I might as well have expected a response 
 from the gatepost." 
 
 "It was immensely stupid of me," he said, at last, 
 with a heroic effort to look regretful. But his skill 
 was too boyish to match with her fencing. She gave 
 
 199
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 him an entirely amiable little sidelong glance from 
 under her large, black-plumed hat, and proposed that 
 they should move on. And as she bent to gather 
 up the skirt of her white lawn gown, he saw that she 
 was laughing not with him but at him. 
 
 " I am afraid you are not inclined to make the most 
 of your opportunities," she observed, pointedly, and 
 there had come something mocking into her smile. 
 "For instance, what a beautiful speech you might 
 have made me then!" 
 
 "But you know I have had so little practice in 
 making beautiful speeches," he answered, helplessly. 
 Then he added quickly, turning suddenly and facing 
 her with an odd appeal, "You must bear with me; 
 perhaps in time I shall not be such a clumsy stick of 
 a lover as I am to-day." 
 
 Ah, then he acknowledged everything! Her bosom 
 heaved. 
 
 It was his first reference to the fact that there was 
 anything between them, and a swift gleam shot from 
 under Marian Day's half-closed lashes. 
 
 "What might I have said?" he asked, awkwardly. 
 
 "There are so many things, each prettier than the 
 other. We might go back and have the same scene 
 over again ; and then, after you had passed me by with 
 the lordly air, and I in humble fashion had come run- 
 ning, you might feel inspired to say the thing you should 
 
 200
 
 IN THE SHADOW 
 
 have said in explanation of not seeing me. Shall we 
 try it?" 
 
 But he did not seem eager to adopt the suggestion, 
 and presently he asked, 
 
 "How does it happen you are not at church?" 
 
 " I might ask that of you. As for me, I never go to 
 church." 
 
 He turned, surprised. "But I saw you in church 
 last Sunday morning, and the Sunday morning before 
 that in fact every Sunday since you have been 
 here." 
 
 "So you did, but it was the force of adverse cir- 
 cumstances. I hate to go to church, and I never go 
 unless there is something " she caught herself up 
 with a start, for she was about to say, "unless there 
 is something to be gained by it " (the " something " 
 in this particular case having been Roger himself), 
 and supplemented quickly, "something to compel 
 me to do it, as there has been since I came here, in the 
 shape of a determined little hostess who evidently 
 thinks my sins so black as to require special punish- 
 ment in the way of churchgoing." 
 
 "Then how did it happen that she let you off to- 
 day? Have your sins grown whiter?" 
 
 She shook her head. "I ran off. She hasn't the 
 remotest idea where I am. I have been out, oh, the 
 longest time." 
 
 201
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 She didn't explain that she had been standing at 
 her bedroom window when Roger went down the 
 path toward his own gate, and that from that moment 
 to the present he had not been once completely out of 
 the line of her vision save for the time he had spent 
 in his grandfather's house. That the visit had been 
 a painful one she knew as well as he, for she had been 
 only a few yards from him when he swung out of the 
 yard, and started forth with an harassed, preoccupied 
 look on his face, without so much as a glance around. 
 But even had he seen her then she would not have 
 dared to question him, much as she would have liked 
 to do that. In spite of his boyishness there was a dig- 
 nity about him that could keep her at arm's length when 
 he wished. He was keeping her there now and she 
 knew it. But she was by no means disturbed. Her 
 appeal was no longer to his passions but to his honor. 
 
 " Have I completely horrified you ? " she asked, 
 watching him a little narrowly. 
 
 He was silent. He could not tell her the bald truth 
 that with him irreligion was a fatal drawback to a 
 woman's attractiveness, even though it were regarded 
 merely in the light of a blemish. But beyond this, 
 the reverence which he in his own heart held for 
 sacred things made it seem a matter of vital moment 
 that there should be unity of feeling between him and 
 the woman who was to be nearest to him on the subject 
 
 202
 
 IN THE SHADOW 
 
 which he strove to make of paramount importance in 
 his own life. He was anything but sanctimonious, 
 and there was that in his reserve that made him shy 
 away sensitively from any discussion of the intimate 
 and personal, so that it was only to the very close 
 observer, who was able to look beyond his exuberance, 
 and his usual careless, light-hearted expression, that 
 the realization came of the earnestness and devoutness 
 that really lay at the root of his nature. Marian Day's 
 shrewd, penetrating glances had pierced this outer 
 covering in her first conversation with him. His 
 seriousness had been only too apparent to her; and of 
 all kinds of people the ones she most disliked were 
 those who inclined toward the ethical. 
 
 *' I see that I have shocked you," she said, with a 
 lazy shrug of the shoulders, "but I can't help being a 
 pagan. Didn't I tell you once I was like that? Do 
 try to remember that I did; it soothes my conscience 
 a little to think that one confession was made to you 
 not that I have any conscience." 
 
 She was studying him intently from under her half- 
 closed eyelids, and she went on quickly: 
 
 "Think of the revelations that I may still have in 
 reserve for you! Are you frightened?" 
 
 Her breath came hurriedly as she put the question, 
 and her face paled a little. There was something 
 mocking again in the smile that hovered about the 
 
 203
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 parted lips. But before he could answer she added 
 with a shade of nervousness in her manner, " Do you 
 realize that this is the first moment we have been 
 alone together since since our engagement ? " 
 
 He met her eyes. " I do realize it," he said, gravely, 
 "and I have been thinking of it all the time. I have 
 been wanting to tell you that is, to explain why it is 
 the first time." 
 
 She looked away. It was abominable that she should 
 be thus forced to make a reference where he should have 
 taken the initiative, and she bit her lips with vexation. 
 But when she turned to him an instant afterward there 
 was only an expression of wistful inquiry on the beau- 
 tiful face. She was not too alluring. She was far too 
 clever to make a misuse of her power; and though she 
 well knew that for the moment passion had spent its 
 force with him, and that he was cold to her, she was a 
 woman that knew how to bide her time, for she doubted 
 not that her hour would yet come. 
 
 " I have been greatly troubled," he began, presently. 
 " My mother is seriously ill, and I have been constantly 
 with her. I went at once the next day, you remem- 
 ber, to see you, but you were not alone, and - 
 
 He caught himself, revolting against the tone of 
 apology he had unconsciously fallen into, just as if 
 she had been finding fault with him for his neglect of 
 her. The color swept into his face. 
 
 204
 
 IN THE SHADOW 
 
 " Oh," he cried, impulsively, " I don't know how to 
 make you understand what the last three or four days 
 have been to me. It has been a terrible shock to me 
 to know of my mother's condition. I am not able, 
 even yet, to face the hard fact. I cannot think of 
 anything else. You and I will have a lifetime in 
 which to think of each other, now " his voice broke 
 and he waited a moment before he could go on 
 "now, forgive me, but my first thought must be for 
 her." 
 
 "I know," she replied, softly; "I understand." 
 
 They walked on some distance in silence. 
 
 "Thank you," he said, at length, low under his 
 breath, and as if she had just spoken, "thank 
 you." 
 
 They had reached the town, and just before they 
 turned into the street on which the Boilings and 
 Caldwells lived, she gave a swift glance at him. She 
 had been wondering whether he had seen the notice 
 in the morning paper, and had concluded finally that 
 he had not. On the whole she rather regretted it. 
 In the realization that she would have to deal with a 
 higher order of gentleman than she had chanced thus 
 far to know anything of, there was a dual feeling 
 one decidedly uncomfortable, based upon a funda- 
 mental element of her own character that rendered 
 her ill at ease in the presence of his refinement, the 
 
 205
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 other jubilant because of the surety that his honor 
 gave. 
 
 " Have you have you told her ? " she faltered, 
 conscious that her knees were trembling under her as 
 she put the question. 
 
 He did not meet her eyes, but his tone was firm and 
 distinctly final. 
 
 "I have not told her." 
 
 "You think it would be unwise?" 
 
 " I am sure that it would be unwise." 
 
 A spasm of fear shot through her. He had seen 
 the notice ! Possibly he even suspected 
 
 "I am so glad that you haven't told her," she 
 said. 
 
 " I had been hoping that you would not. I haven't 
 even told Mrs. Caldwell. Let us keep it as just our 
 very own until until Mrs. Boiling is well again." 
 
 But Roger had scarcely heard the words she uttered. 
 They had reached the Caldwell home, and as he looked 
 in the direction of his own, which was only a short 
 distance beyond, being separated from it by a narrow 
 street that ran between, his eye had been caught by a 
 familiar vehicle drawn up beside the curbing. The 
 carriage was Dr. Beverley's, and at sight of it his 
 heart stood still. 
 
 She saw the sudden blanching of his face and the 
 involuntary quickening of his footsteps, but she made 
 
 206
 
 IN THE SHADOW 
 
 no comment. She knew far better than he his mother's 
 condition, but it seemed to her best to appear ignorant 
 of it. 
 
 At the doorway she dismissed him quickly. 
 
 Roger ran rather than walked the distance that 
 separated the two houses. The black foreboding 
 which all morning had been upon him seemed to find 
 justification in the doctor's unexpected presence. He 
 knew that, unless especially sent for, the hour for the 
 usual visit was not until much later in the day. Some- 
 thing unforeseen must have happened in his absence. 
 Or had there been a subterfuge in the note she had sent 
 him the old, maternal solicitude for him that from 
 the first had sought to conceal her illness from him? 
 Why had he been sent away on his bootless errand to 
 his grandfather on that day? Why had he not sus- 
 pected ? Why, if she had grown worse, had he not been 
 told that Dr. Beverley was to be summoned ? Why 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell met him at the door and with one 
 look into her face he knew all. 
 
 He stood perfectly still, speechless, transfixed, his 
 features like granite. Then, as if suddenly electrified 
 by the thought that pierced him, he sped past her and 
 made a dash for the stairway. 
 
 She was by his side in an instant, tears streaming 
 down her cheeks. 
 
 207
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 *' Wait wait oh, Roger, dear, just a moment 
 while I tell you!" she said in an excited whisper, as 
 she clung to him. 
 
 He paused with his hand on the balustrade. He 
 looked at her strangely. 
 
 "You have nothing to tell me," he answered, dully; 
 "I know." 
 
 " But there may be there may be a little gleam of 
 hope. Wait until you have seen Dr. Beverley. He 
 has only spoken to me once. It is penumonia. Just 
 a little while after you went away the servants became 
 frightened and came for me. I telephoned immediately 
 for Dr. Beverley and to the hospital for a nurse. They 
 both came at once, and have been with her ever since. 
 There is to be a consultation of physicians at three." 
 
 There was genuine grief and kindness in the little 
 woman's quivering voice, but Roger could bear no more. 
 
 He went quickly and softly up the stairs. Just as 
 he reached the landing a door was opened his 
 mother's door. Dr Beverley came out, his eyes 
 blinking a little behind their gold-rimmed spectacles. 
 
 At sight of the tall figure standing a few feet away 
 from him, the doctor paused. There was an intense 
 silence for an instant, and then, with an infinite ten- 
 derness, Dr. Beverley came forward and grasped the 
 young man's hand. 
 
 " God help you, my boy," he said, fervently. 
 208
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 MRS. BOLLING lingered five days and died on the 
 dawning of the sixth. She had had few entirely lucid 
 moments, and to Roger, who sat with almost super- 
 human endurance beside her day and night, his eyes 
 fixed hungrily upon her face, longing in his utter 
 hopelessness that there might be one last word before 
 the veil should fall between them, there had only come 
 a mute pressure of the hand, or a glance of unspeakable 
 tenderness to tell him that his mother's heart ached 
 with pity for the desolation she must make. 
 
 Roger's father had died in Virginia and had been 
 buried there in the old town of Williamsburg, where, 
 beneath ancient moss-covered tombstones and dim 
 armorial bearings, many of his forefathers slept; and 
 it had been always his mother's wish that her grave 
 should be beside her husband's. There was a ser- 
 vice at the church with which she had long been 
 connected, and hundreds had flocked to it to pay 
 their last mournful tribute to the sweet and gracious 
 
 209
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 gentlewoman whose passing left a gap that would not 
 soon be filled. 
 
 After the service the funeral train wound slowly 
 through the heart of the town to the station. Dr. 
 Beverley sat beside Roger during that slow, stately 
 drive, as silent as he, and with a heart bursting with 
 sympathetic feeling. And then as the long line of 
 carriages drew up beside the railway platform, fore- 
 seeing the further strain and forestalling it, he drew 
 the young man away from the crowd of near relatives 
 and friends that, with mistaken kindness, would have 
 sought to gather round him, whisked him off to a 
 shadowy corner, and placed his portly form in front 
 like a bulwark. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell was in the carriage with Marian Day. 
 The little woman had cried until her face was red and 
 swollen, and she was quivering from her head to her 
 feet in an intensity of nervousness. 
 
 MariaDv turned and looked at her calmly. 
 
 "Are you cold?" she asked. "Your teeth are 
 chattering." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell raised her head from her handkerchief 
 for an instant. 
 
 " Cold ? " she echoed, vaguely, " I don't know whether 
 I am cold or not, I am just so so unhappy. Oh, 
 poor Roger!" 
 
 " I don't see that you are helping him any by crying 
 210
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 like that, and you will certainly make yourself ill. 
 Here we are, I believe." 
 
 The carriage had stopped, and Mrs. Caldwell 
 pulled up the blind and looked about her. "Where 
 is Tim ?" she whispered, breathlessly "if I could see 
 Tim for a moment ! " 
 
 "But you can't. He is one of the pall-bearers. 
 Surely you are not going to get out?" 
 
 " I must see Tim. Oh" 
 
 She drew back, having caught her husband's eye. 
 Tim Caldwell appeared for a second at the carriage 
 door, his big blonde face grave and troubled. 
 
 "Oh, Tim," she sobbed, "I want you to go with 
 Roger. I don't care what he says about not wanting 
 anybody with him. Think how his mother would 
 have felt about his taking that terrible journey alone! 
 And you know he hasn't got anybody to look after 
 him now but just you and me, and " 
 
 " Roger doesn't want me, Ada, and we must let him 
 have his own way about everything, you know. Sit 
 back, little woman; it is beginning to rain." And the 
 tall figure disappeared in the crowd. 
 
 Five minutes passed. Then there came the sound 
 of the tramp of many footsteps hurrying down the 
 platform, the clanging of a bell, and then that slow, 
 heavy reverberation of a long train of cars moving out 
 of a station. 
 
 211
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell sank back with a gasp. She had 
 grown very pale. 
 
 " Oh, isn't it pitiful pitiful ! " she whispered, 
 opening her eyes very wide and looking at Marian in 
 a kind of awe, like a frightened child. 
 
 But Marian was drawing on her jacket and appeared 
 absorbed in the process. 
 
 She leaned back and looked absently out of the 
 window. She did not speak for some time, and when 
 she did there was a cold ring in her voice like the 
 echo of metal that has been loudly struck. 
 
 "Yes, it is pitiful," she said. "But he will get 
 over it. He is not the first man to lose his mother." 
 
 Roger did not return for more than a week. There 
 was an old bachelor brother of his father's living at 
 Williamsburg, and he remained with him, finding 
 the first days of his bereavement more bearable in 
 surroundings unassociated with his mother's presence. 
 Then, under the ceaseless ache in his heart, he grew 
 restless, and there came over him a great longing to be 
 back again in the spot where every object would be a 
 reminder of her, acute as he knew his anguish would 
 be. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell and Marian Day had just finished 
 luncheon when his telegram was brought in. It was 
 addressed to Mrs. Caldwell, and it asked that she have 
 
 212
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 his house opened for him, mentioning the hour when 
 he should arrive. 
 
 She glanced up at the clock. "Half past two!" 
 she exclaimed, "and Roger is to be here at twenty 
 minutes after five ! " 
 
 Marian's face did not change a muscle, but Tim 
 Caldwell's broad, good-natured countenance was in- 
 stantly troubled. A moment before he had been 
 laughing heartily at his own facetiousness (compell- 
 ing from Marian, as usual, a most reluctant attention) 
 but as the message was read aloud to him his big blue 
 eyes filled suddenly. To hide his emotion he leaned 
 forward and laboriously selected a peach from the 
 platter in the center of the table, leaving it, however, 
 untasted when he rose. 
 
 "I shall have to get James and the other servants 
 together, and I must hurry because there is not very 
 much time," said Mrs. Caldwell, breathless, and with 
 a little catch in her voice, as she glanced again be- 
 seechingly at the clock. 
 
 "Will you let me help you?" asked Marian, turn- 
 ing and facing her. She had walked to the window 
 and had been looking out on the soggy sward across 
 which a light wind was blowing a flutter of dank, 
 yellow leaves. 
 
 " No oh, no," replied Mrs. Caldwell, quickly, 
 " that is it is good of you to offer, my dear I 
 
 213
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 shan't need you. I don't think " she hesitated, and 
 then hurried on " that Roger would care to have any 
 one touch his mother's things except some one who 
 loved her dearly." 
 
 "Perhaps not," responded Marian, very quietly. 
 She yawned a little and reached for her book which 
 she had dropped beneath the table when they first 
 sat down. Then she left the room. 
 
 Tim Caldwell's eyes followed her. "Don't you 
 think you were just a little bit rude to her, dear?" 
 he asked, anxiously. 
 
 "Rude?" Mrs. Caldwell was making a mental 
 summary of the things she had to do and do speedily, 
 silently marking them off on her fingers. "Tim, 
 what on earth do you mean?" 
 
 She looked up innocently, her pretty lisp falling 
 as ever like sweetest music on her husband's ears. 
 He crossed the room to her side and put his arms 
 about her. 
 
 "Never mind," he said. He stood stroking the 
 small brown head nestled like a bird's against his 
 shoulder, and presently he added, softly, " Poor Roger ! 
 How I wish there were some sweet little woman for 
 him to come back to! Did it ever occur to you, Ada, 
 that he has rather a fancy for Miss Day ? " 
 
 " But she is not a sweet little woman she is fully 
 five feet nine," she replied, evasively, but positively. 
 
 214
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 Her husband's eyes twinkled. "But you know 
 every woman who is charming is always a sweet little 
 woman to me. I shouldn't know how to describe 
 them in any other way. Force of habit, I suppose. 
 I may be wrong," he added, meditatively, "but I'm 
 inclined to believe there is something, I don't know 
 just what, between those two." 
 
 "No no!" 
 
 The reply broke from Mrs. Caldwell's lips like a cry 
 of alarm, and he met her startled gaze with a look of 
 dumb surprise. His mouth opened as if to speak, but 
 he could find no words to convey his astonishment at 
 the protest her words involuntarily expressed. His 
 under jaw fell. 
 
 " Why, I thought I thought you liked her," he 
 stammered at length. 
 
 "Like her? Of course I like her." Mrs. Caldwell's 
 tone was hurried and even a trifle petulant. " Every- 
 body likes her she is so clever and so beautiful, 
 but " 
 
 "But what?" Tim Caldwell demanded, stolidly. 
 He was going to get at the root of this if it should take 
 him until dark. Under all his slow amiability there 
 was an obstinacy that could not be lightly put off. 
 "But what?" he repeated, with his eyes on his wife's 
 face. 
 
 She avoided his glance. " She and Roger would not 
 215
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 be at all suited to each other; and then, you know 
 Mrs. Boiling would not have liked it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Oh, I am sure she would not. She always admired 
 Sibyl Fontaine." 
 
 He stood leaning one arm on the mantel, tapping 
 it thoughtfully with the forefinger of his big right 
 hand. What a queer combination a woman was any- 
 way! He proposed to try the effect of a bombshell. 
 
 "Ada, there is something between them," he said, 
 solemnly, " and I happen to know it." 
 
 She grew white and tremulous. " Oh, Tim, do you 
 really know anything ? " she cried, coming back to him 
 and grasping his arm tightly. " Are you sure ? " 
 
 "Perfectly sure!" he declared, unblushingly. 
 
 " Oh, but it would be just terrible ! " she exclaimed 
 under her breath. " And I thought I thought she 
 didn't care an earthly thing about him." 
 
 " What made you think that ? " he was stroking her 
 hair again, much to her discomfiture, as she had 
 arranged it with especial care, having tried for the 
 first time a new method of coiffure with her most 
 unsatisfactory locks. 
 
 " What made me think that ? Oh, so many things. 
 I really don't believe he is the kind of man she likes 
 in the least, in fact she almost told me he was not. 
 Marian is always very confidential with me." 
 
 216
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 *' Humph ! " he remarked, dryly. " I should say that 
 she was the kind of woman that keeps her own counsels, 
 myself. Why do you think she doesn't care for him ? 
 I should have picked out Roger as a fellow to cut a 
 pretty wide swath with the feminine contingent." 
 
 " Oh, he does he truly does; all the girls are wild 
 about him, and Judith Beverley is positively pathetic." 
 
 " So it is only Miss Day who is disdainful, you think ? 
 Poor Ada, how you have been deceived ! " he observed, 
 with exaggerated sympathy. 
 
 "She doesn't care for him!" The little woman 
 stamped her foot angrily. 
 
 " Give me an instance to prove it," he demanded, 
 imperturbably. 
 
 " Tim, she never shed a tear at the funeral." 
 
 All at once she looked up in his face and caught the 
 humorous gleam in his mild blue eyes. She pushed 
 him from her. 
 
 "You are laughing!" she exclaimed, "and I don't 
 believe you know a thing." 
 
 "I know there is something between them," he 
 insisted, his mouth twitching behind his blonde 
 moustache. 
 
 "Then in Heaven's name say what it is, and don't 
 keep me standing here all afternoon." 
 
 " I will," he said, obligingly, and with a broad smile. 
 He took out his watch and examined it critically. 
 
 217
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " Do you want me to tell you precisely what is between 
 them?" he inquired, presently. "That train is very 
 apt to be late, but the nearest calculation I can make 
 is that there is at the present moment between them 
 something like three good hours of car travel, and 
 
 But he was spared the trouble of enumerating the 
 number of miles, for Mrs. Caldwell had made a hasty 
 exit. 
 
 She went at once about Roger's affairs, only delaying 
 long enough to despatch her servants upon numerous 
 errands relating to the immediate opening of his 
 darkened home. It would be a long time, she feared, 
 before the wheels of his menage should run smoothly 
 again, and she pitied him with all her heart, her prac- 
 tical mind disturbed not only for his spiritual loneliness 
 but for his bodily discomfort. 
 
 By half-past five everything was in readiness, and a 
 cheerful fire blazed in the little drawing-room, for the 
 afternoon had grown chilly after the rain. Mrs. 
 Caldwell gave a last look around and then went softly 
 from the house. 
 
 " I can't I just can't accustom myself to the idea 
 that she is not somewhere near and at any moment 
 may come walking in," she said to Marian Day, with 
 trembling lips, a few moments afterwards. 
 
 Marian put down her novel. She was already 
 dressed for dinner, and she was sitting in the library 
 
 218
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 in a large leathern chair, her slippered feet daintily 
 out-stretched to the glow of heaped-up hickory logs. 
 She looked the personification of luxurious content- 
 ment. Her black net gown, though old and shabby, 
 having been her standby for years on all impor- 
 tant occasions when evening clothes were demanded, 
 fitted her superbly, and there was about her an air of 
 indolent grace that harmonized with her surroundings. 
 
 "Are you very tired?" Marian asked, presently, 
 her lips parting in the slow, intimate smile she was 
 wont to bestow upon her friend, whose guilelessness 
 never suspected the hint of cynicism that lurked be- 
 hind the flash of the girl's white teeth. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell looked up. "Tired? I don't know 
 perhaps I am a little tired; not that there was any- 
 thing really for me to do. She had trained her ser- 
 vants beautifully, and they knew how to take hold at 
 once. She really was wonderful, my dear, and do 
 you know, I actually don't believe she ever saw the 
 inside of her kitchen in her life? She was just the 
 opposite of Mrs. Beverley and myself, who are always 
 fussing around with a receipt book in our hands." 
 
 Suddenly she paused, her eyes on Marian's bare 
 white throat and gleaming arms. "Why the black 
 net?" she asked, abruptly. "Are you going out?" 
 
 Marian laughed, but looked away a trifle nervously. 
 "Don't remind of me my poverty!" she exclaimed. 
 
 219
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "It was positively a last resort; everything else is in 
 rags." Then she added, quickly, "There was a 
 telephone message for you from Mr. Caldwell. He 
 thanks you for sending the carriage, and says he will 
 go to meet Mr. Boiling at the proper time. The train 
 is delayed. There was a wreck up the road." 
 
 "A wreck!" Mrs. Caldwell started up. "Did he 
 say whether any one was hurt or not?" 
 
 Marian's face was amiably supercilious. She 
 reached out her hand and laid it patronizingly on her 
 friend's arm. "Hold on," she said. "Don't let it- 
 self get agitated. I believe he did say that two per- 
 sons were killed, the engineer and the brakeman. 
 Were they special friends of yours?" 
 
 "No, but Roger is a very dear friend, indeed, and 
 you startled me. What a cool little way you have! 
 I wonder," Mrs. Caldwell crossed the room and stood 
 looking out the window upon the gathering twilight, 
 "I wonder, if you really cared for a person, if you 
 could be quite so collected? For instance, if Roger 
 were were your lover, and you heard that his train 
 was wrecked " 
 
 But Marian interrupted. She rose and came swiftly 
 toward the window. 
 
 "How dark it has grown!" she cried, as if realizing 
 suddenly that night was about to descend. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell tapped absently on the window-pane. 
 220
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 "His train was due at twenty minutes after five," 
 she said, presently, " and I gave them fifteen minutes, 
 which was really more than was necessary, and now 
 it is," she glanced toward the clock 
 
 "After six," put in Marian, promptly. 
 
 "Horrors! Is it really?" shrieked Mrs. Caldwell. 
 "Then I must go and dress immediately. "I can't 
 but hope that Tim will persuade Roger to come here 
 to dinner with us, although I ordered a lovely dinner 
 for him in his own home. You never can tell how 
 people in sorrow are going to act. Now Tim " 
 
 All at once she broke off, her eyes falling on a bowl 
 of flowers on the table. 
 
 "Oh, I forgot!" she said, "I completely forgot! 
 I meant to take those flowers." 
 
 Marian had gone back to her chair before the fire. 
 She rose. 
 
 "Let me take them," she suggested, quietly. 
 
 "Would you?" Mrs. Caldwell hesitated. "I could 
 send one of the servants, of course, but I should not 
 be sure that they were put just where I want them 
 on that little mahogany table of hers down-stairs 
 that she always sat by. Would you honestly not 
 mind?" 
 
 "Not in the least." 
 
 " But suppose they should come in on you Tim 
 and Roger? It would be awkward."
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "There is no danger. They will not be here for 
 fully half an hour yet." 
 
 " Then don't forget, my dear, on the little ta " 
 
 "I understand." 
 
 The door closed. Marian stood a moment beside 
 the bowl of flowers, tenderly stroking the delicate 
 pink petals of the loose bunch of roses. There was 
 a sparkle in her eyes; her lips were parted and she 
 was smiling softly to herself. All at once she bent her 
 lips to the flowers. "Thank you," she said, "thank 
 you." She turned and again went back to her chair, 
 and sat gazing into the fire. It was not until the hands 
 of the clock pointed to a quarter of seven that she 
 rose, and throwing a light scarf about her, gathered 
 up the bowl of flowers and left the house. 
 
 It had grown quite dark. As she went up the steps, 
 a voice within sounded as it drew near the doorway 
 a man's voice speaking kindly, soothing words. She 
 moved quickly back into the shadow of the porch 
 where the vines were thickest, and stood waiting. 
 The wind kept up a dismal whispering as it swept 
 past the corner of the house, and with one hand she 
 grasped the scarf about her throat lest it be blown 
 away, while with the other she guarded the bowl of 
 flowers, which she was holding in the crook of her arm 
 pressed close against her chest. 
 
 222
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 Presently the door opened, and Tim Caldwell went 
 down the steps. After the last sound of his footsteps 
 had died away she crept out from her hiding-place, 
 and stood gazing in at the window. Roger had 
 neglected to draw the blinds, and the warm room, 
 serene and comfortable, for an instant caught and 
 held her attention. Then her eyes rested upon the 
 central figure. 
 
 He had drawn an armchair his mother's chair * 
 up before the fire, and he was sitting in it, his face 
 buried in his hands, and his whole being bowed as if 
 a blight had fallen on it. Not a muscle stirred. She 
 could hear the crackling of the fire on the hearth; she 
 could almost hear him breathe. Several moments 
 passed. Still he sat motionless. One could readily 
 imagine that the young form, so pathetic in its grief 
 and isolation, was benumbed, paralyzed beneath its 
 weight of sorrow. 
 
 She was not easily appealed to, yet the spectacle 
 touched her, and there was an unwonted gentleness on 
 her face as she noiselessly turned the knob, pushed 
 open the front door and entered. 
 
 She walked softly across the hall, and stood an 
 instant on the threshhold of the little room which she 
 had entered for the first time two months before. 
 Still he did not stir. 
 
 She had thrown off her scarf, and the firelight 
 223
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 gleamed delicately on her white throat and smooth, 
 round arms, bare below the elbow. She waited a 
 moment. 
 
 Her breath was coming quickly now, and her lips 
 parted, as they were apt to do whenever she was under 
 the stress of an excitement. Her face had grown sud- 
 denly colorless, but it was tender and beautiful, like a 
 pearl. Her eyes shone, as if lighted by an almost 
 unearthly flame. 
 
 She crossed the room swiftly, stealthily. She put 
 down the bowl of flowers, and then, still watching him, 
 and with throbbing pulses, she sank down upon her 
 knees beside him. 
 
 He started. Her unexpected presence had roused 
 him from his lethargy, but it had also dazed and 
 astounded him. He could not speak. He could not 
 even rise. So little had she been in his thoughts it was 
 as if a stranger were kneeling there beside him. He sat 
 mutely staring down upon her, too vaguely conscious 
 of the relation she bore to him to find words with 
 which to speak to her. 
 
 The room was red in the glow of the firelight; and 
 there was no sound save the crackling of the logs on 
 the hearth and the sad whisperings of the wind among 
 the vines that grew about the porch and near the 
 windows on the far side of the house. For a while she 
 bowed her head, silent, half timid in her expression of 
 
 224
 
 THE BAPTISM OF SORROW 
 
 humble sympathy as if not only her lovely form but 
 her whole being were prostrate at his feet. If it was 
 acting it was well done. But suddenly her face was 
 uplifted. She pressed nearer to him, and she had 
 grown white as alabaster. The soft pearly tints had 
 vanished, and there was a wild questioning in her 
 eyes. He met her gaze uncertainly. For an instant 
 his heart stood still. Then he understood. His 
 haggard face went pale. 
 
 He did not speak, but gradually there came a change 
 in him, just as if the long strain were being slowly 
 lifted, and he was sinking down upon the first pillow 
 that was offered to him, too exhausted to inquire whose 
 hand it was that had smoothed it for him. She had 
 chosen an opportune moment. In his desolation and 
 need of the womanly he turned to her. With unutter- 
 able weariness he bent down his head, and she softly 
 smiled. 
 
 All at once he reached out his arms to her and drew 
 her to him. 
 
 225
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 
 
 IT was one month later, and near the close of one 
 of those cool, brilliant October days that to the Ken- 
 tuckian is atonement complete and satisfying for a 
 climate that on occasions can show a variableness that 
 only the most fickle of womankind could equal. Marian 
 Day had just returned from a long walk, and her face 
 glowed like a tea rose beneath her big black hat. She 
 was in excellent health and spirits, and though disposed 
 still to cavil a little with fate for its withholdings, on 
 the whole she was resigned, having gradually drifted 
 into that quiescent, comfortable state of mind that is 
 the consolation of the morally obtuse in the midst of 
 compromise. She had asked large things of life, 
 according to her vision, and the most she could look 
 forward to was freedom from the bald ugliness of her 
 previous existence. No brilliancy, no excitement, none 
 of that tingling of the blood that follows in the wake of 
 power and as a result of the sort of daring coup she had 
 always longed for, was to be hers. It was to be barely 
 
 226
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 
 
 an escape if really an escape at all. That she well 
 knew. Yet she proposed to make the most of her 
 changed conditions. 
 
 She had extended her visit from week to week, 
 having found the hospitality of the Caldwells limitless; 
 but she had been a good deal put to, after the diphtheria 
 pretext could no longer be resorted to, to find plausible 
 explanation to give her friends why her presence at 
 the country school was not demanded. She had said 
 nothing to either of them of her engagement. 
 
 But Roger had suddenly brought things to a climax. 
 She had just left him, and he had asked that they be 
 married at once in fact in a week from that very 
 day. He had also insisted that she inform the Cald- 
 wells immediately. 
 
 As she ran up the stairs and tapped lightly on Mrs. 
 Caldwell's door, a sudden misgiving that had over- 
 taken her many times of late blanched her face. 
 What if, after all, the little woman were to be reckoned 
 with? Could it be possible that she had miscalcu- 
 lated? The thought filled her with distinct alarm. 
 She was instantly, fiercely resentful even in prospect. 
 
 " Come in," said a sleepy voice within, and Marian 
 turned the knob and entered. Her pulses were bound- 
 ing riotously, but her manner was nonchalant. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell was lying curled up on a couch before 
 the fire, her plump form enveloped in a pale blue 
 
 227
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 kimono. "Isn't it ridiculously cold for this time of 
 the year ? " she said, as she motioned Marian to a chair. 
 "But then you know away back there in September 
 we had fires. Don't you remember ? the night 
 Roger came home " 
 
 "I remember," interrupted Marian, with her eyes 
 on the hearth. She had loosened the cheap piece of 
 black fur she wore about her throat, and with the 
 marvelous adaptability she possessed, that made her at 
 home at once in any surroundings, she was leaning 
 back in her chair languidly, and as composedly as if 
 she had been there all the afternoon. One would 
 never have suspected that an important communica- 
 tion was quivering on her lips, or that five minutes 
 before she had been walking rapidly in the keen autumn 
 air. The faint color that the wind had brought into her 
 cheeks had vanished. She was very white and very still. 
 
 "It is cold," she responded, lightly, "but I like it, 
 don't you?" She was formulating in her mind the 
 wording of her announcement and she appeared a 
 little inattentive, as she rested her head against the 
 back of her chair. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell supposed that the warmth of the room 
 had made her drowsy. "Like it?" she exclaimed, in 
 her airy, animated way, "I delight in it, of course, 
 after all that melting weather we had. But I am 
 surprised that you do." 
 
 228
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 
 
 Marian turned her face slowly. " Why ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because you belong to the tropics you look like 
 that, I mean. And if you really did live in the tropics 
 and were an animal instead of a human being, do 
 you know what sort of animal you would be?" 
 
 Marian shook her head. 
 
 "I suppose I oughtn't to do it," continued Mrs. 
 Caldwell, "but I am always seeing likenesses between 
 people and animals. Tim often reminds me of a big 
 Newfoundland dog." 
 
 " No doubt he would he highly flattered if he knew." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell broke into one of her spasmodic 
 little screams. " Oh, he knows," she cried, " I always 
 tell him everything." 
 
 Marian looked up quickly. But she only said, 
 "What is the particular bird or beast or reptile you 
 would liken me to ? " 
 
 "You are sure you won't be offended?" inquired 
 Mrs. Caldwell, quite serious. 
 
 "Not at all," replied Marian, imperturbably, and 
 with a swift, flashing smile. 
 
 " But I once told a man he reminded me of a rhinoce- 
 ros," responded Mrs. Caldwell in an injured tone, 
 "and he never forgave me. The truth was he was 
 just ' de ve'y spit o' one,' as my old nurse used to say." 
 
 " I shall be more placable. Tell me. What?" 
 
 "A tigress, my dear, and your abode is the jungle." 
 229
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Marian stirred slightly and laughed, her lips curling 
 with their faint hint of derision. There were times 
 when Mrs. Caldwell impressed her as being strangely 
 crude. 
 
 "Every woman who can feel is a tigress at heart," 
 she observed, "the rest are only tame cats." 
 
 She had taken off her hat, and she sat smoothing 
 the worn ostrich tips about the brim absently with 
 her fingers. Presently she looked her friend directly 
 in the eyes. 
 
 " I have something to say to you," she said, " and I 
 have been wondering how I would best say it." 
 
 " Say it any way you please, my dear," replied Mrs. 
 Caldwell, without suspicion, "but don't keep me 
 waiting too long, my curiosity cannot stand much 
 strain." 
 
 Marian hesitated a moment. Her heart was flutter- 
 ing wildly again, and she had suddenly paled. But 
 her voice was controlled and clear as a bell. 
 
 "Then, without tiresome paraphrase," she said, 
 "let me tell you that I am going to be married to Mr. 
 Roger Boiling next Wendesday morning at ten o'clock." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell sprang to her feet. She gave a faint 
 little gasp, and then stood perfectly still, wildly clasping 
 her hands at her breast. 
 
 "Won't you sit down?" inquired Marian, coolly, 
 and in the sauve tone of a hostess addressing her 
 
 230
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 
 
 guest. She was perfectly at her ease, but watchful 
 and not too bold. 
 
 The little woman obeyed like an automaton. She 
 sank back on the couch, her eyes still fixed imploringly 
 on the girl's face, dumb, and utterly helpless; and 
 Marian, watching her furtively from under her half- 
 closed eyelids, was conscious of a fierce thrill of exulta- 
 tion. The comparison, if commonplace, had been 
 apt; and at the bare thought of opposition there were 
 aroused in her emotions which made her tremble. 
 But she was almost reassured, though not a word had 
 yet been spoken. A smile leaped across her face and 
 was gone like a flash of lightning. She stretched out 
 her hands to the fire. 
 
 "Won't you congratulate me?" she said, "or are 
 you holding all your felicitations in reserve for 
 Roger?" 
 
 "Then it is true, really true?" Mrs. Caldwell's 
 voice was so low that it was barely audible. 
 
 Marian leaned back and laughed softly. "It is 
 perfectly true," she replied, growing all at once grave 
 again. " Do you actually mean to say that you never 
 suspected it?" 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell was silent. She sat gazing for a long 
 time into the fire, and twisting her rings nervously. 
 Her piquant features were thoughtful and deeply 
 troubled. Even her lightness had been suddenly 
 
 231
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 sobered, and she knew in no vague and uncertain 
 fashion that she had come face to face with something 
 that was making a solemn demand upon her which 
 she could not ignore. Her first impulse was to shift 
 the responsibility. If only she might talk it over with 
 Tim! 
 
 She rose and crossed the room quickly. She stood 
 a moment at the window, absently fingering the cur- 
 tains, and looking out into the street. Lights were 
 already gleaming from the houses opposite. It was 
 growing late, and at any moment she was likely to 
 hear her husband's ponderous step ascending the stairs. 
 Plainly she must have it over quickly, if ever, for she 
 dared not allow time to tamper with her resolution. 
 
 " Marian," she said, turning slowly, and forcing the 
 words with difficulty from her trembling lips, "have 
 you have you told him ? " 
 
 Marian faced her coldly. "Told him?" she in- 
 quired, vaguely. " I have told him a great many things. 
 What particular thing do you mean ? " 
 
 "There is only one thing that really makes any 
 difference so far as the past is concerned." 
 
 "I imagine it is the future that is occupying his 
 thoughts just now, not the past. I am a rather expen- 
 sive luxury for him." 
 
 She had sunk far back into the shadow, and her 
 attitude was one of insolent ease and defiance. 
 
 232
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell met the cool gaze leveled upon her 
 with a visible shrinking. She came hesitatingly back 
 to the fire, and sat down on the couch, taking a nearer 
 seat. All at once she reached forth both her hands 
 and clasped the arm of the great chair in which Marian 
 was sitting. 
 
 ' Oh," she cried, with a little catch in her voice, " if 
 you haven't yet told him, let me beseech you to do it 
 without delay. No woman could be happy in her 
 marriage, knowing that a thing like that was forever 
 between her and her husband. When I was married 
 I simply ransacked my brain to find something to tell 
 Tim. There really wasn't anything, but it made me 
 feel much better to know that everything was perfectly 
 transparent between us. Roger is the sort of man 
 that would expect absolute frankness, just as he would 
 be big enough to be always perfectly sincere himself. 
 There are a great many things that he might condone, 
 but deception is not among them." 
 
 "Deception?" Marian raised her eyebrows and 
 stared. " May I ask you to tell me what you mean ? " 
 
 The tone was as distant as if addressed to a stranger 
 who had dared to take an unwarrantable liberty. 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell stiffened a little. "This is not very 
 pleasant," she said, "for either of us, but you must 
 know to what I refer." 
 
 "I assure you I haven't the remotest idea." 
 233
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "Oh, surely " Mrs. Caldwell's eyes were wide 
 and wondering " surely you haven't forgotten the 
 letter that terrible letter that came last summer ? 
 Oh, why do you make me remind you of it ? " 
 
 Marian rose. " It is in the grossest bad taste imag- 
 inable that you should remind me of it," she said, 
 severely, leaning one arm against the mantel, and 
 parrying the look with an expression of quiet dis- 
 dain. 
 
 "But, Marian, dear," cried Mrs. Caldwell, in con- 
 fusion, and beginning again to weaken under the spell 
 of the woman's tremendous sweep of will that was 
 rapidly reducing her to the mental condition of a 
 befuddled child, "can't you see that Roger ought to 
 be told? And you must appreciate my position in 
 the matter. You know that I love you dearly, and it 
 just breaks my heart to think of all that you have 
 suffered. But I owe an obligation to Roger too to 
 Roger and to his dead mother. If she had lived, and 
 if some day the discovery had come to her that I was 
 a sharer in this secret, what would she have thought 
 of me if I had stood by and kept silence ? Oh, if you 
 can't bring yourself to speak of it to him, let me tell 
 him, I will try to do it delicately, I " 
 
 With an inconceivably swift movement Marian Day 
 turned and sank into her chair, grasping the hands of 
 the suddenly terrified being before her. "Would you 
 
 234
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 
 
 dare," she cried, "would you actually dare to do that 
 thing?" 
 
 "But Marian" 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell glanced helplessly into the burning 
 eyes peering into her own, and drew back in a sort of 
 desperation. "Oh, you know, you know I only want 
 to do what is right," she moaned. 
 
 "Right!" 
 
 The single word broke from Marian's lips like the 
 tortured cry of the mortally wounded, as with a gesture 
 of infinite scorn she sprang to her feet again, and 
 stood with flashing eyes and quivering nostrils at 
 bay, yet ready to battle till the last drop of blood be 
 shed in her own defense. 
 
 "Right!" she repeated, with a slow measurement of 
 words that cut like sword thrusts dealt by a well- 
 disciplined fencer. "And what is right, may I ask? 
 since you have taken upon your lips the word that 
 has wrought more woe than any other, including even 
 death itself. Is it right, in order to satisfy a sheer 
 quibble of conscience, that you should reveal what the 
 merest accident made you acquainted with, and what 
 you gave your most sacred word never to disclose? 
 Is it right that you should blast my life ? " 
 
 " Oh, Marian Marian that you should speak 
 to me like that!" 
 
 But Marian was unrelenting now. She had grown 
 235
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 deadly pale, but once more she was absolutely calm. 
 She went back to her chair. 
 
 "Let us talk this matter over quietly," she said. 
 "I realize that I am in your power; you can destroy 
 me if you will. But the question is, would it be right 
 to destroy me, just because you can ? The word is 
 yours; then try the case by your own standard, the 
 standard of right." 
 
 It was with Goliath's own sword that his head was 
 severed; and Mrs. Caldwell, finding her weapon thus 
 snatched from her, sank back weak and distracted, 
 unable to speak a word. 
 
 " You say that you owe a duty to Roger Boiling and 
 to his dead mother; do you owe none to me?" asked 
 Marian, coldly. 
 
 "Oh, you poor, dear girl, do you think I don't 
 recognize that," sobbed Mrs. Caldwell, floundering 
 wildly in the sea of doubt into which Marian's strong 
 hand had thrust her. "If only you could know how 
 my heart aches for you, you wouldn't wouldn't 
 accuse me of being anything that isn't kind." 
 
 "And yet" 
 
 All at once Marian wheeled and looked intently 
 into the tear-stained face before her. For some time 
 she did not speak, and when she did, her features 
 expressed a strange transformation. She had been 
 thinking hard. 
 
 236
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 
 
 "I have only one thing to ask," she said, "since 
 feel that you must tell him " 
 
 Her voice was sweet and plaintive, and she bowed 
 her head as in acceptance of her friend's decree. 
 "There is just one thing. I do not want to be here 
 when he is told. I shall never see his face again, and 
 I want you to promise me that you will wait until I 
 have gone before you tell him tell him of what 
 you have saved him from." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Caldwell, wildly, "you 
 don't mean you don't mean that, even if he 
 should" 
 
 "I mean that I should not be willing to marry him, 
 even though he should still be willing to marry me, 
 as you suggest after he has been told." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell flung out her arms desperately. 
 
 "Oh, I wish, I wish I knew what I ought to do!" 
 she cried. 
 
 "It is very simple," said Marian, quietly, with her 
 eyes on the fire. "It is only to keep your word." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell started. "I did not mean to break 
 it," she replied, with quiet dignity. "Everything I 
 have said has been based upon the presumption that 
 you would release me." 
 
 Marian sat gazing thoughtfully into the writhing 
 lilac flames. She knew that she had only to say, 
 "Then I do not release you," to end the matter at once, 
 
 237
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 definitely and finally, thus taking the whole burden 
 upon herself, and, in a measure, relieving Mrs. Cald- 
 well of the painful and unaccustomed weight that 
 conscience had laid upon her plump shoulders. But 
 there was another and surer way. It implied some 
 risk. But hers was one of those daring natures that 
 find a certain exhilaration in hazard, and she would 
 have been capable of staking everything upon the throw 
 of a single die, even though the game had already just 
 been magnificently won. It had not been really won in 
 this instance, in spite of the fact that Mrs. Caldwell had 
 wavered like a weathercock at the first breath of dis- 
 approval. There was, in truth, only one method where- 
 by she might with any degree of surety be depended 
 on, and that was to make her a coadjutor, through an 
 appeal to her never-failing kindness of heart. * 
 
 Presently Marian looked up. She gave a slow 
 glance about the pretty bedroom. It was all in blue, 
 and it was soft and cozy as a bird's-nest. For an 
 instant there flashed before her mind's eye a vision of 
 the hideous spot she had left at the close of the last 
 school term, its cheerlessness and utter crudity height- 
 ened by contrast with the warmth and luxury about 
 her. But she was not deterred. Her voice, though 
 very low, was distinct and steady when she spoke at 
 last, and there was in her manner a sweet and patient 
 renunciation that was without hint of anger. 
 
 238
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE SECRET 
 
 "I release you absolutely." 
 
 As the words fell from her lips there came a strange 
 dizziness in her head. For a moment the room 
 swam before her. What was the meaning of the ex- 
 pression she saw in the eyes bent so fixedly upon her ? 
 Was it relief, or was it compassion? She could not 
 tell. She went on quickly, 
 
 " You know something of what I have suffered 
 a little. But I could never make you half understand, 
 even if I should try. I haven't tried. It always seems 
 so useless to expect a person who has never known 
 despair to comprehend the anguish of the despairing. 
 But you do know that both literally and figuratively 
 I have been starved. This is the first door that has 
 ever opened to me. It was through you that it was 
 opened, and it shall be through you that it is closed 
 if it is to be closed. I have been hard and bitter and 
 rebellious, and it only seems natural to go back to 
 the old way of thinking and feeling. But I had almost 
 given over seeing myself as a person branded and 
 manacled. I had begun to look forward to the future 
 actually to believe that there was a future for me. 
 As the wife of Roger Boiling I beheld myself rapidly 
 developing into the typical Kentucky married woman. 
 You are all so good. Do you wonder that I wished 
 to emulate you ? " 
 
 There was a faint trace of sarcasm in the words, 
 239
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 but Mrs. Caldwell did not perceive it. For an instant 
 her attention had been diverted by the opening of 
 the front hall door and the sound of a beloved footstep 
 making music in her ears. Her expression grew soft 
 and tremulous, and two great tears welled up into her 
 eyes. For once fate, as Marian would have called it, 
 had dealt a kindly turn. 
 
 Quickly perceiving her advantage Marian rose. The 
 heavy steps had begun to ascend the stairs, and she 
 was breathing rapidly now, unable to conceal the 
 agitation that had swept over her. It was necessary 
 to speak with the utmost haste. 
 
 "I leave the decision with you," she whispered. 
 "Let us have in any case no harking backward. 
 I have just ten dollars in the world, and I have resigned 
 my position at the school. I want you to know every- 
 thing. The responsibility rests with you. I am at your 
 mercy. Shall you tell him, or shall you be silent ? " 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell had also risen. She was quivering 
 in every nerve, but her face revealed at last only a 
 single all-absorbing emotion the emotion of over- 
 whelming pity. She put up both her tiny hands. Her 
 husband's steps were almost at the doorway. All at 
 once she stumbled forward, for tears were blinding her 
 eyes. 
 
 " I shall be silent," she said. 
 
 240
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 FOR HIS OATH'S SAKE 
 
 IT was Roger's wedding-day, and it had dawned so 
 dark, and chill, and cheerless that only the eye of 
 faith could be persuaded that the sun still shone 
 somewhere behind the sullen expanse of cloudland 
 overhead. He smiled grimly to himself as he drew 
 back the curtain and stood a moment looking out of 
 the window of his bedroom after he had dressed. It 
 surely was not an ideal marriage morning, with full- 
 throated songbirds hymning his epithalamium, and all 
 the bluegrass meadows wafting sweetest odors town- 
 ward in honor of his bridal. He had dreamed of a 
 day like that, when the whole earth should share in 
 his exuberant gladness, when the skies should be blue 
 in benediction and the very trees of the forest mur- 
 murous of his joy a day of golden sunshine, of 
 spring, of hope, of tenderest love. There was some- 
 thing touching in the wistfulness of the expression that 
 came into his gray eyes as he gazed out upon the barren 
 November scene, slim and elegant in his wedding 
 
 241
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 clothes, yet with so little of the look of the lover about 
 him. 
 
 He had grown much thinner, and he seemed at first 
 glance even younger and more boyishly appealing than 
 on that summer morning at the station when he made 
 his cyclonic ingress into the waiting-room for the 
 purpose of offering a delinquent welcome to Marian 
 Day. But he was the stripling still only in outline, 
 and it would have been a very superficial obser- 
 vation that failed to see the lines of grief, and pain, 
 and passionate renunciation that recently had traced 
 themselves about the sensitive mouth. 
 
 He was calm. Through the entire night he had 
 slept as quietly as if no unusual event awaited him on 
 the morrow, untroubled by painful dreams or any of 
 the haunting thoughts which, until the week before, 
 when the day of his wedding had been definitely 
 determined upon, had made it well-nigh impossible 
 for him to obtain the needed rest. The hour for doubt 
 and questioning was past. The situation was upon 
 him, and he was prepared to meet it, if without the 
 ardor of a lover, at least with the fine feeling of a 
 gentleman. 
 
 But from the first there had been no uncertainty in 
 his mind as to what his course should be; the only 
 problem that presented itself to him for solution was 
 whether his own ability, spiritual and practical, was 
 
 242
 
 FOR HIS OATH'S SAKE 
 
 large enough and sure enough for the tremendous 
 requirement that was before him. Thus far he had 
 not solved it with any degree of confidence. But that 
 did not alter his decision. He had given his word, 
 and he must keep it. The whole thing was so very 
 simple. There were many influences at work in him 
 to drive him toward that position. The traditions of 
 the fathers as expressed in a dashing Southern chivalry, 
 superb, poetic, faulty, so sternly exacting with regard 
 to man's surface relation to woman, so easily lax with 
 regard to his deeper acts and intents toward her, spoke 
 to him with an authority that he was powerless to 
 combat. His heredity, his training, his every instinct 
 compelled him to allegiance, regardless of all conse- 
 quences. His word must be kept inviolate. 
 
 But the noiseless law of the spiritual world, even 
 more terribly real than that of the physical, takes no 
 account of man's blindness. It is his business to seek 
 after Truth, if haply he may discover it, and failing to 
 do this, the result is not altered because through 
 ignorance he did the thing that contains in itself the 
 germ of his destruction. And though to Roger Boiling 
 there came with his decision of marriage a sort of 
 tranquillity that seemed to soothe and strengthen, it 
 was in reality the ease of apathy, rather than of inward 
 peace the sign of the cessation of struggle and of 
 inevitable retrogression from his loftiest and tenderest 
 
 243
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 ideals; so that in declining to a lower plane of feeling, 
 and in endeavoring to find in Marian Day compensa- 
 tion for his loss, he was unconsciously compelling 
 himself to become a partaker of her nature, while 
 merely trying to make the best of things, as he honestly 
 believed. 
 
 His wedding was to be the simplest occasion possible. 
 Out of deference to his bereavement Mrs. Caldwell 
 had reluctantly agreed that there should be no guests, 
 but it was only after Roger had quietly and stead- 
 fastly refused to give way to her that she had finally 
 yielded her wishes with respect to a wedding break- 
 fast. She was even less reconciled when the day rolled 
 round. 
 
 " It is too bad that he wouldn't let me have it," she 
 grieved, as she hurried about Marian helping her to 
 dress, " and it was going to be such a good breakfast, 
 too, for I had thought of all sorts of delicious things. 
 I lay awake one whole night planning it. And who 
 would have believed that Roger could be so obstinate ? 
 Oh, dear, to think this dreary morning should be 
 anybody's wedding-day ! " 
 
 "There would scarcely have been time," replied 
 Marian, absent-mindedly, as she leaned critically 
 toward her mirror. She turned her head slightly to 
 one side and then deftly pinned one of Roger's roses 
 in her hair. " You know that as soon as I can get out 
 
 244
 
 FOR HIS OATH'S SAKE 
 
 of this and into something else we shall have to hurry 
 off to the train." 
 
 She wore a white mull gown very plainly made, yet 
 not without a certain distinction of its own which 
 Mrs. Caldwell found difficult to interpret, delighting 
 as she herself did always in frills and furbelows. She 
 studied it carefully, standing off to one side. 
 
 "If only it had had billows and billows of lace!" 
 she exclaimed, ruefully. "Still you do look lovely, 
 my dear, lovely, though there is not one woman in a 
 thousand who could carry off anything so unadorned. 
 It just suits you somehow. Everything you make 
 for yourself has that look. I don't know how you 
 manage it. It must be that superb figure of yours 
 and not special skill. Any woman could have made 
 that gown, but most likely she would have looked a 
 frump in it, as a reward for her exertion, while you 
 whom shall I liken you too ? Aphrodite, just risen 
 from the waves, with sea foam all about her?" 
 
 "I hope I am a more modest individual," responded 
 Marian, with a laugh. "But don't decry my raiment; 
 elegance is not purchased at fifty cents a yard. That 
 last ten dollars had to accomplish much." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell came nearer the dressing-table. "I 
 did so want to give you your wedding gown, Marian," 
 she said, very gently. 
 
 Marian was coaxing a stray lock into place, and it 
 245
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 seemed to require her undivided attention. "Oh, did 
 you?" she inquired, carelessly, at length, "how very 
 nice of you ! " 
 
 "I pictured you in ivory satin and point lace; and I 
 have some old, old lace that has come down to me 
 through five generations, and I was going to let you 
 wear that, if only " 
 
 Marian displayed a mild interest. " If only 
 what ? " she asked, with a swift turning of the head 
 and one of her glimmering smiles. 
 
 "If only I had not been afraid." 
 
 " Afraid ? " Marian shrugged her shoulders. Then 
 she laughed softly. " I have been so long an eleemosy- 
 nary, I wonder that you hesitated." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell looked slightly confused. She dropped 
 her eyes, and her plump person encased in rose-colored 
 silk and chiffon heaved convulsively. "It really 
 wasn't you, my dear, so much as Roger that I 
 feared." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Marian, without a shade of annoy- 
 ance, "I see." 
 
 "He is so very proud, you know," said Mrs. Cald- 
 well, hurriedly and suddenly floundering; "that is, 
 I mean, he is rather fanciful, and somehow I really 
 can't explain it but I felt sure that he would not 
 want any stranger of course I am not exactly a 
 stranger but, oh, I just knew he wouldn't want 
 
 246
 
 FOR HIS OATH'S SAKE 
 
 me to do it, and that he would far rather that his 
 bride should come to him just as you are now. You 
 see I am beginning to stand quite in awe of him." 
 
 Marian went over to the fireplace and sat down in 
 the large chintz-covered chair drawn up before it. 
 She yawned. "I can't say that I find him particu- 
 larly formidable," she said. 
 
 "It is because he is so determined," responded 
 Mrs. Caldwell. "You see how he did about the 
 breakfast. I had not the remotest idea of giving in 
 to him at first, but he had his way. I never would 
 have agreed to it, though, if I had known it was going 
 to be such a cloudy morning." 
 
 "Are people especially hungry when the sun doesn't 
 shine? 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell was sitting on the edge of her chair, 
 her silk flounces spread out like the petals of an in- 
 verted rose. " I don't know, but it surely would have 
 been cheerfuller. I doubt that Roger has eaten any- 
 thing, and I just can't keep from thinking how his 
 mother would have felt to have him go off on an empty 
 stomach like that." 
 
 "He isn't going on an empty stomach, he is going 
 on^the cars, and you might reserve a few of your 
 anxieties for me, even if I did eat two birds and half 
 a dozen buckwheat cakes and two or three rolls, with 
 coffee besides." 
 
 247
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "Oh, but you are always so cool and collected." 
 "You remind me of the reply of Talleyrand to 
 Madame de Stael. She asked, if she and her rival 
 Madame Grandt were to fall into the water at the 
 same time and were drowning, which he would save 
 first. He said, 'Oh, Madame, you swim so well.'" 
 
 "You do everything so well, my dear, even includ- 
 ing getting married. I never saw any one quite as 
 composed," replied Mrs. Caldwell, missing the deli- 
 cate sarcasm, and not sure whether to admire or not. 
 She had been such a fluttering, palpitating bride her- 
 self, and she had supposed it was so distinctly the 
 proper way for a bride to be, that she could not quite 
 comprehend Marian's nonchalance. A doubt was 
 beginning to awaken in her mind, and it sent a cold 
 shiver through her, adding another weight to the 
 burden she already carried in relation to this marriage. 
 That Roger loved the woman who in ten more minutes 
 would be standing by his side echoing his own vows 
 of fidelity until death she had never for an instant 
 doubted. But did Marian love him? During the 
 past week Mrs. Caldwell had been almost too excited 
 over the uncomfortable position which the girl's strong 
 will had compelled her to take, too oppressed by the 
 thought that she might not shift even a little of her 
 own accountability to Tim's strong shoulders, to think 
 of much besides. She herself had married for love, 
 
 248
 
 FOR HIS OATH'S SAKE 
 
 and in a case like the present one, where the usual 
 sordid bribe of wealth was non-existent, it seemed 
 only reasonable to conclude that there was no un- 
 worthy motive. She was an odd combination of the 
 practical and the sentimental, and while she could 
 understand any amount of devotion that might be 
 given to Roger for his own sake, she was shrewd 
 enough to know that it was not for such manly quali- 
 ties as he possessed that women are apt to sell them- 
 selves. Even his high breeding and important social 
 place scarcely seemed a sufficiently tempting bait, 
 in view of his poverty. 
 
 But Marian's conduct had been baffling. She wished 
 that she might put her to some sort of test. She leaned 
 forward suddenly, her piquant, sallow little face eager 
 and almost imploring. Her voice trembled a little. 
 
 "Marian," she asked, "is everything clear before 
 you? Do you love Roger with all your heart and 
 soul as much as he loves you ? " 
 
 There was a moment's silence. The hands of the 
 little gilt clock on the mantel were moving steadily 
 onward. Marian watched them intently. She smiled. 
 " I think I can assure you," she answered, without 
 moving her head, "that I love him quite as much as 
 he loves me." 
 
 The words were crisp, and clear-cut, and final, and 
 Mrs. Caldwell, who had hoped for something different 
 
 249
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 the vivid flush, the faltering speech, the tell-tale 
 manner with which she as a bride would have re- 
 sponded to such an inquiry, drew back only partially 
 reassured. With a little sigh she rose, and turned to 
 the mantel. 
 
 " I have something for you here," she said, searching 
 among the bric-a-brac, " I hid it, because I wanted to 
 give it to you just at the last moment." 
 
 "What!" cried Marian, becoming animated in an 
 instant, "Something besides that exquisite emerald 
 necklace ? " 
 
 " Oh, but this is something different. It quite puts 
 to shame that modern thing I gave you. Old jewelry 
 makes the new seem always vulgar." She took from 
 the mantel a small jewel case, opened it, and held it 
 out. 
 
 It was an antique cameo pin set in two little rows of 
 pearls, and it possessed that fine, intangible something, 
 apart from its beauty, that seemed to link one instantly 
 with the past a past of luxury, of culture, of refine- 
 ment. Marian took it into her hands and surveyed 
 it with her usual cool scrutiny, but made no com- 
 ment. 
 
 "It is an heirloom, and I could not of course give 
 it to you, if I had any children to inherit from me," 
 remarked Mrs. Caldwell, her eyes taking on the wistful 
 look that motherly, childless women so often wear 
 
 250
 
 FOR HIS OATH'S SAKE 
 
 when referring to their lack. " But it was yours before 
 I ever gave it to you." 
 
 Marian raised her head and waited inquiringly. 
 
 " I had already given it to Roger's wife, whoever she 
 might be." 
 
 " Oh, I understand." 
 
 " I had it on one day and he simply went wild over 
 it in his boyish, enthusiastic fashion. I told him then 
 it should be among his wife's wedding gifts. It never 
 occurred to me that I wasn't giving it to Sibyl Fon- 
 taine," remarked Mrs. Caldwell, simply. 
 
 Marian closed the case. She sat looking for a 
 moment into the fire. "I believe I won't take 
 it," she said at length, as she quietly handed it 
 back. 
 
 " Don't you like it ? " Mrs. Caldwell was completely 
 taken by surprise. 
 
 "It is lovely, but I have a superstition about old 
 jewelry; I should rather not have it." 
 
 "Superstition! But the superstition is all in favor 
 of it. You should have on 
 
 ' Something old, and something new, 
 Something borrowed and something blue.' " 
 
 " I have on something blue my garters," said 
 Marian, quickly gathering up her skirts. "Behold 
 them! Don't you think I would make a nice ballet 
 girl?" 
 
 251
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " But, Marian " Mrs. Caldwell was almost tearfully 
 urgent. 
 
 Nevertheless, Marian was not to be persuaded. 
 " Keep it," she said, with a hard little laugh, as she 
 sank back into her chair again, " keep it for Roger's 
 second wife." 
 
 There was a step on the asphalt below, and Mrs. 
 Caldwell's attention was distracted. She flew to the 
 window. Suddenly the tears sprang into her eyes. 
 
 She stood so still and was so silent that Marian 
 careened her neck and sat looking toward her in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Is it the clergyman who is to marry us ? " she asked. 
 
 " Mr. Eldridge has been here for the last half hour. 
 He is in the library talking to Tim." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell's voice was tremulous, and she replied 
 without turning her head, still lookng down upon the 
 slim figure advancing up the walk. But she was 
 thinking less of Roger than of Roger's mother in that 
 moment. All at once she wheeled and looked at 
 Marian. The little woman's whole form was quivering 
 under a sense of the momentous. She was smiling 
 through her tears, and her manner showed a curious 
 commingling of roguishness and gravity, of affection 
 and timorous appeal. 
 
 " It is Roger," she said, softly, waiting to see the 
 color flame into the pearl-white face. 
 
 252
 
 FOR HIS OATH'S SAKE 
 
 But Marian sat without moving a muscle, and her 
 color did not change. Mrs. Caldwell crossed the room 
 swiftly, her little ruffles making a delicate swirl as she 
 turned. She leaned over the back of the chair, and 
 then bent forward until her lips touched the girl's 
 forehead. 
 
 " Come," she whispered, growing pale, " come." 
 
 253
 
 PART H 
 
 THE SUBTLE THING THAT'S SPIRIT
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 RED ROSES 
 
 IT was midsummer again in Kentucky, and it was, 
 moreover, the initial day of the great fair that time- 
 honored institution of profit and amusement which 
 traces back to the early days of the Commonwealth, 
 and which, beginning with the simplest of rural 
 exhibits modeled upon the English cattle show, gradu- 
 ally took on many of the features of the English county 
 fair, at last developing into the present splendid, 
 varied display at which, with deep-rooted pride, and 
 the characteristic fun-loving spirit of their species, 
 yearly many thousands of Kentuckians congregate. 
 
 To-day, the opening one of the carnival, all in- 
 terest was concentrated on a single event: an extensive 
 floral parade in which many beautiful and prominent 
 women were to participate, and for the nonce the 
 fleet-footed racer and the mild-eyed Jersey were rele- 
 gated to the background ; even the " Plaza," that most 
 bewildering and delightful of places, the tempting 
 abode of the snake-charmer and the mind-reading 
 
 257
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 dog, of Japanese acrobats and dancing girls, was 
 scarcely thought of, though it was well known that 
 " Evaleen, the peerless water queen, " was advertised 
 to eat, drink, sew, and sleep in a glass tank filled with 
 water, and that three intrepid bicyclists would "ride 
 at the rate of a mile a minute on a circular-built fence 
 at an angle thrillingly near the perpendicular." 
 
 As the day wore on the crowd became more and 
 more dense, and by two o'clock, when the long floral 
 procession moved from the town, a most impatient 
 and perspiring throng to the number of ten or more 
 thousands awaited it, its start having been heralded 
 by a wild pealing of bells, supplemented by the din 
 of factory whistles and the sound of martial music. 
 
 In the field across the tract hundreds of vehicles 
 were lined up, whose occupants gaily laughed and 
 chatted, all unmindful of the scorching August sun. 
 One of the last to arrive was a tally-ho coach contain- 
 ing six persons, and it swept into the paddock with 
 quite an air, the white veils of the women floating in 
 cloud-like abandon, and their voices blending merrily 
 with a recurrent masculine undertone. On the front 
 seat a pale, dark woman, with an impassive, some- 
 what wearied countenance, sat surveying the scene 
 with languid interest, sometimes turning her head to 
 make a remark to the laughing girls and their escorts 
 behind, but giving her main attention to the man next 
 
 258
 
 RED ROSES 
 
 to her. The woman was rather pretty in a cold, 
 unresponsive way, and she appeared as wholly un- 
 aware of the gaze and comment their advent had called 
 forth as if she were alone. It was, however, a divided 
 scrutiny that was being bestowed upon her, quite as 
 many glances as were given to her being directed 
 to the distinguished looking and more self-conscious 
 individual at her side, whose thin skin had flushed a 
 little above his Vandyke beard. 
 
 "It's that pretty Mrs. Sullivan," whispered a girl 
 in the neighboring carriage, "and the man with her 
 is Mr. Waller Francis Waller, the famous author, 
 you know. Isn't he stunning? He is visiting her at 
 her country place. Here, turn your head just a little, 
 but don't stare at them, for the sake of the honor of 
 Lexington; it seems so provincial." 
 
 "I shall not stare at them for the sake of the honor 
 of myself," declared the other girl with spirit. All 
 the same she turned her head, the promptings of 
 aroused curiosity being irresistible. "She is only a 
 tiny bit pretty," she added, disdainfully, " and I think 
 it was simply detestable of her to marry that horrid 
 man she did, just for his money." 
 
 " How do you know she did that ? Do take a look 
 at the celebrity." 
 
 Francis Waller was bowing low, having caught the 
 eye of an acquaintance, that curious commingling of 
 
 259
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 insolence and deference, of self-esteem and self-abase- 
 ment, that to the observant was never quite absent 
 from his manner, being to-day especially pronounced. 
 In truth, he had been studying the crowd with a quiet 
 scorn, one instant possessed of a sort of secret wonder- 
 ment that his appearance apparently did not call 
 forth more than a brief and passing notice, attention 
 having wandered to some later arrival, the next, cut 
 and annoyed by the easy indifference to his greatness, 
 reminding himself of the little he had accomplished, 
 and vowing renewed fidelity to his work. Though by 
 no means unappealed to by the picturesqueness of 
 the occasion, and meaning some day to write a tender 
 and glowing bucolic inspired by his visits to Ken- 
 tucky, he was yet at the moment too occupied with the 
 thought of his immediate conspicuousness and the effect 
 it had produced to be keenly alive to anything save his 
 own sensitivity. The pose of the great artist was some- 
 thing that he was unable for an instant to abandon. He 
 had grown stouter, the most elegant of clothing being 
 inadequate to conceal the unfortunate fact, and his hair 
 was thinner, the suspicion of baldness which a year be- 
 fore had begun to appear on the crown of his head hav- 
 ing become almost a reality. His manner was nervous 
 and slightly irritable, and he turned with a start as a 
 small boy near the coach lifted up his voice and yelled 
 at the first glimpes of the approaching parade. 
 
 260
 
 RED ROSES 
 
 An instant afterward a shout from thousands of 
 throats rent the air, and to the sound of drums and 
 bugles the pageant came into view city officials, 
 county officials, secret societies, men in white, men in 
 red, Sir Knights, Exalted Rulers, glittering marshals, 
 with bands, and equipages, and automobiles swathed 
 in bunting, passed before the sight in bewildering 
 splendor, and seemingly stretching out ad infinitum. 
 
 For a while the crowd gazed and applauded, then 
 the spectacle seemed to pall. People were beginning 
 to move uneasily, and to be conscious of their discom- 
 fort as they sweltered beneath the fiery sapphire sky. 
 The zest of the thing was waning when interest was 
 again revived. A tiny cart with two children in it 
 drawn by a Shetland pony trundled into the ring and 
 paused before the judge's stand. The cart was deco- 
 rated with pink and white chrysanthemums and in the 
 manner to make it resemble a basket of flowers; out of 
 it two piquant little faces peeped eagerly expectant. 
 It was followed almost immediately by other vehicles, 
 every color of the rainbow being represented, until the 
 scene was like an immense, variegated garden on 
 wheels, each of the long line of equipages and its 
 occupants vying with the rest and each being the 
 avowed choice of many. The verdict, however, as to 
 which should receive the first prize had gradually 
 settled down in favor of a victoria containing two very 
 
 261
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 young girls in white and purple, the decorations being 
 snow-balls and purple irises, when the last of all the 
 vehicles appeared. It was a bower of American beauty 
 roses and it was drawn by two black horses with white 
 harness. It contained a single occupant, a beautiful 
 woman in diaphanous white, who was driving. At 
 first sight of it the cheering broke forth anew, only to 
 gather volume when the carriage drew nearer, and the 
 features of the woman became more distinguishable. 
 As the sunlight fell upon her red-brown hair Francis 
 Waller leaned quickly forward and adjusted his eye- 
 glasses. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said, quickly, under his breath, " Ah ! " 
 
 His companion's pale face had taken on something 
 like a look of animation, and she watched the carriage 
 as it passed and repassed with a generous admiration 
 untinctured by any sort of envy. She had once been 
 beautiful and, now that her looks were fading, she felt 
 no disposition to deny to other women anything that 
 was theirs. Perhaps she had learned that beauty 
 means little to the possessor when it does not bring its 
 crowning guerdon, love. She too leaned a little 
 forward. 
 
 " Mrs. Roger Boiling ! " she exclaimed. " How lovely 
 she is ! I do hope she will win ; her carriage is the very 
 prettiest of them all." 
 
 Marian had paused before the judge's stand, her 
 262
 
 RED ROSES 
 
 spirited team chafing under the momentary restraint. 
 There was a brief period of breathless waiting, then the 
 carriage wheeled, and the blue ribbon was fluttering 
 from the harness. 
 
 " She has it ! " cried the girls and young men of the 
 coach in chorus, joining in the wild applause. Francis 
 Waller sat staring in the direction of the approaching 
 vehicle, but he did not clap his hands, and his face was 
 not easy to read. Not once had he taken his eyes off 
 the carriage, but whether his gaze expressed approval 
 or not Mrs. Sullivan could not decide. His fastidious- 
 ness kept her constantly on a strain, and somewhat did 
 away with her pleasure in his distinguished society. 
 Possibly .he was thinking that the whole thing was 
 tawdry and vulgar, and she was half ashamed of having 
 committed herself. She determined to test him. 
 
 " Don't you think her beautiful ? " she asked. " Look 
 at her through this." 
 
 He put up the field-glasses very coolly and quite as 
 if his attention were directed for the first time to 
 Marian's smooth, clear-cut features. 
 
 " Very beautiful," he responded, gravely, at length. 
 
 " Do you know her ? " 
 
 " I have met her." 
 
 "I hear that her husband is immensely clever 
 quite the most promising of the young men at the bar 
 here. I wish that we might have them at our house. 
 
 263
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 I asked him once or twice before his marriage, but he 
 never accepted. I wonder " she hesitated a moment, 
 and began counting on her fingers "I wonder if they 
 would care to come to the little dinner we are having 
 to-morrow evening?" 
 
 "You might ask them; it would be an excellent way 
 to find out." 
 
 " Are you sure you are not superstitious ? " 
 
 He turned, and for the first time removed his gaze 
 from the rose-covered carriage parading in full view. 
 
 " Not in the least," he responded. " Why ? " 
 
 " Because they will make thirteen." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be a means of discovering whether 
 sudden death or dire misfortune does really follow in 
 the wake of the fateful number. For my part I am 
 willing to risk it." 
 
 The carriage was bowling slowly in their direction 
 again. Marian was smiling and bowing to acquaint- 
 ances as she passed. She was radiant, and she was 
 more than ever like some gorgeous tropical bloom in 
 her floral setting. She had grown rounder of form, 
 but the gracious, sinuous curves remained, her increase 
 of flesh merely giving a more womanly accent to her 
 beauty. It was only when the smile died off her face 
 that there was the suggestion of latent hardness, a 
 peculiar expression that traced itself on her features 
 now and then, not easily translatable, and that set one 
 
 264
 
 RED ROSES 
 
 to wondering about her. It was an indefinite, inde- 
 finable something that one felt rather than saw, and it 
 was of a part with her evident pleasure in this exhibi- 
 tion of herself, which was of a nature distinctly different 
 from that of the other maids and matrons, their enjoy- 
 ment being of a simpler and more spontaneous order, 
 more like play than earnest, and partaking of the same 
 spirit of fun that shone in the faces of the two roguish 
 children. 
 
 Mrs. Sullivan was no nearer than before to obtaining 
 a clue to the author's opinion either as regarded the 
 parade in general or the winner of the first prize in 
 particular. She knew that some people detested paper 
 flowers. But a strange thing happened. As she 
 glanced at him she noticed for the first time that he 
 wore a red rose in the lapel of his coat. 
 
 "Why, you have on her colors!" she exclaimed as 
 Marian drew near. He started. 
 
 It was purely accidental, his selection and wearing 
 voice speaking to him roused him to an unthinking, 
 romantic impulse. He was looking straight ahead of 
 him and his gaze was fixed on Marian's face. The 
 coach was drawn up quite close to the fence. A number 
 of vehicles were moving homeward now. The track 
 was crowded, so that the nearest one, the one covered 
 with red roses, was within only a few feet of the field 
 as it passed. Just as the carriage came into full view 
 
 265
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 he rose and, taking the flower from his button-hole, 
 flung it straight into the lap of its occupant, a whimsical 
 smile chasing itself across his features. 
 
 There was a ripple of laughter from all that saw it, 
 and Marian turned her head quickly. A startled look 
 came into her face, and a vivid flush swept to her 
 brows. Francis Waller, still smiling, made her a 
 profound obeisance, half mocking, half serious. 
 
 For the briefest space her eyelids flickered. Then 
 she returned his gaze with a smile as daring as his own, 
 looking deep into his greenish eyes with an expression 
 that set his pulses tingling. An instant afterwards, 
 with a distant bow that included both him and his 
 companions she passed on. 
 
 266
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ' THE LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 IT was six o'clock of the same afternoon, and Roger 
 Boiling, wearied from the exertion of an especially busy 
 day and the garrulity of a belated client, who had kept 
 him at the office some time after his usual hour for 
 leaving, was walking slowly up the little path leading to 
 his house with an air of abstraction, his mind still labor- 
 ing with the knotty legal point which had just been pro- 
 pounded to him. Since his marriage he had thrown 
 himself with a mighty zeal and determination into his 
 profession, a sort of iron-bound resolution that was in 
 a measure the result not only of necessity but of a 
 passionate and desperate longing to wrest from life 
 something in exchange for what was denied him, 
 holding him to his work, and giving to his naturally 
 energetic disposition a stimulus that was a never-failing 
 goad. At times, as during the summer preceding his 
 engagement, he worked irrationally, with an almost 
 reckless disregard for health and a kind of intensity of 
 concentration. 
 
 267
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 He dared not probe too deeply into the primal 
 motive that was back of all this, lest it rise up and 
 confront him as the pale ghost of what was once a 
 noble impulse. Formerly, he well knew, it had not 
 been ambition alone that had swayed him. Though 
 he had felt always the usual normal, healthful desire 
 for a prosperous issue as a result of his labors, and that 
 in a more compelling degree, perhaps, than most, there 
 had yet been something more that had held him man- 
 fully to his purpose: a certain quiet earnestness at the 
 root of his nature, that, despite his gaiety and apparent 
 light-heartedness, forced him to regard all effort from 
 the standpoint of the spiritual import; so that his shy, 
 boyish confession to Sibyl Fontaine as the two had sat 
 together in the moonlit garden on the night before her 
 departure more than a year before had been in truth 
 a revelation of the groundwork upon which rested his 
 loftiest aims, just as it was a lifting of the veil that 
 concealed his most sacred and intimate emotions. 
 
 Then he had meant to be, as he had told her, in a 
 large sense a Man, with all that that should stand for 
 both with regard to others and to himself. The simple 
 sincerity of the utterance, the unshaken faith in himself 
 and his own ideals, the deep thrill and throb and hope 
 of it all ah, what would he not have given to feel them 
 once again! 
 
 Yet all unconscious to himself there had been taking 
 268
 
 LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 place within him a growth in the very direction toward 
 which he had then aspired. Marriage either definitely 
 elevates or degrades; it never allows a being to remain 
 in a seemingly stationary state; and, through his inhar- 
 monious mating and his later resistance to its tendency 
 to drag him downward, gradually there came to him 
 a new and profounder understanding with regard to 
 the vital relations of life. Hitherto his attitude toward 
 the great elemental passions of humanity had been 
 merely that of an undeveloped personality, soundly 
 healthful on its physical side, but only dimly compre- 
 hending the harmonious duality of its own nature, its 
 tremendous exactions, its inherent needs; and, in 
 coming to realize that the individual nature is thus 
 dual, the flesh and the spirit, he saw, in its large signifi- 
 cance, that humanity also is dual, the man and the 
 woman, thus attaining, out of a deep sense of awe and 
 reverence for his own being, to the idea of the unity of 
 marriage, and thence to a clearer apprehension of the 
 mystery of the incarnation the oneness of the Divine 
 with the human. 
 
 Already, though crudely as yet, through the work- 
 ings of this broader understanding of the underlying 
 symbolism of life, he was beginning to perceive the 
 profundity of the error he had committed in the name 
 of righteousness. All his props seemed to be falling 
 from him. Conscience, which at first had spoken so 
 
 269
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 loudly, had grown shy and unresponsive to him now. 
 All the strength, all the opposition he possessed was 
 at times brought into play against the siren voice lur- 
 ing him to his doom, and it was only after many a 
 hard fight with himself that he conquered the impulse 
 to succumb and to allow the earth side the predomi- 
 nance that it clamored for. For there was still that 
 in him which sometimes Marian could appeal to. 
 He could not elevate her to his standard; and it was 
 with a sort of diabolical pride on her part and a sense 
 of humiliation on his that she was able temporarily, 
 and through the power of her own seductions, to bring 
 him down to hers. 
 
 But to-day he was tired and careworn, and in no 
 mood to hasten into his wife's presence. The air had 
 grown cooler, and as he went up the path he took 
 off his hat, a very natural action with him always, 
 instinctively resorted to when out of doors alone and 
 safe from observation, and let the light wind play 
 against his hot brow, finding relief to his jaded senses 
 in the soft caress. It was the hour at which his mother, 
 serene, gracefully gowned and expectant, used to sit 
 in the little drawing-room, quietly anticipating his 
 coming, and with all the ceremony with which she 
 would have awaited the arrival of a prince. No 
 engagement of any kind was ever allowed to interfere 
 with the obligation she felt to welcome him when he 
 
 270
 
 LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 should come back to her at the close of his day's work, 
 eager for the comfort of her presence. Out of the 
 many vicissitudes that the day might hold there was 
 one thing she wished him to be sure of as safe from all 
 mutation: her attitude of changeless love and of calm 
 abiding. As his feet rested upon the first step of the 
 little vine-covered porch the old heart-sickness and 
 longing that were still often as present with him as in 
 the early weeks of his bereavement came back to him, 
 and a mist gathered in his eyes. 
 
 The house was very still, although the doors and 
 windows were thrown wide, indicating life and move- 
 ment somewhere, despite the momentary quietude. 
 Marian doubtless was away, he concluded, and before 
 going up-stairs to prepare for dinner he sat down on 
 the long, green-painted settle on the side of the porch 
 and picked up the evening Leader, which had just been 
 thrown in. 
 
 His eye ran carelessly down the first page. The paper, 
 as indicated by the headlines, seemed to be given over 
 mainly to enthusiastic descriptions of the fair, inter- 
 larded with frequent reference to Lexington as " the Un- 
 rivalled Queen," and the surrounding region as " God's 
 Country," the scribe, following the usual Kentucky 
 fashion, evidently being by no means backward in pro- 
 claiming his particular quarter of the globe preeminent, 
 as well as the special object of divine favor. 
 
 271
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Suddenly Roger started and caught in his breath, 
 his glance attracted by something in another column. 
 "Mrs. Roger Boiling the Lovely Winner of the First 
 Prize in the Floral Parade"! he read in astonish- 
 ment. But surely there was some mistake. She had 
 not even told him of her intention to take part in such 
 an exhibition. He sat holding the paper in his hands, 
 staring at it in complete surprise. Then he turned 
 to the paragraph referred to in the headlines, and 
 read it through. His face flushed, and a look of 
 annoyance swept across his features. 
 
 But gradually his expression altered. The sweet- 
 ness and chivalry of his nature began to assert them- 
 selves. He could not allow himself anything like a 
 feeling of irritation toward her; it seemed to him so 
 small, so unworthy, and yet why had she not told 
 him ? Was it because she feared he would oppose 
 her in this public parading of herself? He pondered 
 the thing. Since their marriage they had accepted no 
 invitations, and the retirement in which she had been 
 compelled to live out of respect for his bereavement 
 he more than suspected was not to her liking. Per- 
 haps he had been selfish, he told himself, confronted 
 by this rather pronounced evidence of her desire for a 
 less secluded existence. Admiration, he knew, to her 
 tropical temperament was as much an essential as 
 sunlight is to most orders of plants. Without it the 
 
 272
 
 LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 very essence of her being seemed to change. Of late 
 she had been listless and even apathetic, leaving him 
 unmolested to his work, spending her evenings not 
 unfrequently in her own apartments with a novel 
 while he delved in the library below. 
 
 As Roger sat thinking there came to him, in ex- 
 change for his momentary annoyance, a feeling of 
 self-condemnation, and he found himself, with the 
 instinct of all fine natures, manfully shifting the blame 
 from the one who had seemed to cause his disturbance 
 to himself. All at once he rose, having first folded 
 the paper so that the column he had just read should 
 be given special prominence. Then he went quickly 
 up the stairs and knocked softly on his wife's door, 
 still holding the paper in his hand. 
 
 There was a response, and he entered. 
 
 Marian was sitting in a loose white gown before her 
 dressing-table lazily combing out her hair. Her arms 
 and throat were bare, and as the departing rays of 
 sunshine fell full upon them they shone like polished 
 marble. Now and then a stray sunbeam as she 
 turned her head from side to side rested upon her 
 hair and then seemed to become entangled in its tawny 
 interstices, transforming the whole into "a golden 
 mesh to entrap the hearts of men." She had evi- 
 dently been sleeping just a short time before, and her 
 
 273
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 expression was relaxed, a delicate rose tint still lingering 
 in one cheek where it had pressed against the pillow. 
 She had mistaken Roger's entrance for that of the 
 maid coming to wake her, and she took no notice, 
 proceeding with her combing in an absorbed fashion, 
 and keeping her eyes upon the mirror with an intensity 
 of gaze in which a variety of emotions mingled. All 
 at once a little thrill of delight in her own beauty 
 seemed to sweep through her, and she leaned toward 
 her own reflection, and smiled. The comb fell from 
 her hand, and as Roger sprang forward to restore it 
 to her, she turned and saw him for the first time. 
 
 There was a swift rush of crimson to her brow, and 
 her bosom beneath its soft gown heaved convulsively. 
 " I thought you were Susan," she said, guiltily, finger- 
 ing the articles on her dressing table, at random, and 
 for once completely disconcerted. 
 
 He had been gazing at her rapt and motionless, 
 some subtle emanation from the secret excitement she 
 was under communicating itself to him and weaving a 
 spell around him which made him powerless to stir. 
 He had scarcely seemed to breathe. But as the comb 
 slid from her grasp he had suddenly come to himself. 
 
 " I am glad you did think I was Susan," he tried to 
 say lightly, as he flung himself down on the Turkish 
 lounge near the window, " as otherwise I might have lost 
 a very lovely picture." He gathered up one of the 
 
 274
 
 LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 many sofa pillows about him and studied it. He 
 flushed a little as he spoke and looked away in a sort 
 of odd, boyish embarrassment, as if the remark had 
 been made to the veriest stranger. 
 
 Marian shot a quick glance at him from under her 
 curling lashes. 
 
 "Praise from my husband ought to be delightful 
 if only for the sake of its novelty." 
 
 The tone was cool and premeditated, yet scarcely 
 reproachful. She had turned again to her mirror and 
 with deft movements was twisting her hair into place. 
 Her manner had resumed its usual quiet unconcern, or 
 half sullen indifference toward everything about her. 
 
 He was silent, and then, as she continued to ignore 
 him, suddenly he leaned forward.and handed her the 
 evening paper. He was smiling. 
 
 "It would seem," he observed, "that you have had 
 the praise of many beside your husband to-day." 
 
 She faced him again, startled in spite of herself. 
 She looked straight into his eyes, but she was unable 
 to read the expression she saw there. 
 
 "You are annoyed, of course," she said, quickly, 
 and on the defensive instantly. 
 
 " Am I ? " he asked. " Why do you conclude that ? " 
 
 "Because you belong to that particular class of 
 men who would like to throw around their woman- 
 kind the seclusion of a harem." 
 
 275
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Roger threw back his head and laughed aloud, 
 his face growing almost instantly grave again. But 
 he said nothing. 
 
 "I have discovered that it is a Kentucky trait," 
 she continued, reaching for another hairpin. " Here 
 a married woman may be beautiful, and she quite 
 frequently is, but she must desire to be beautiful for 
 her husband alone, else she may call down upon her- 
 self not only his disapproval but that of a whole com- 
 munity besides. With him it is merely an expression 
 of the old savage instinct of mastery over the thing 
 he chooses to think belongs to him, a survival of the 
 slave idea; with the rest it is usually envy." 
 
 "And was it because you were so sure of my dis- 
 approval that you did not mention to me beforehand 
 your part in the performance described here ? " 
 
 His voice w^s troubled, but it was without a trace 
 of resentment. On the contrary there was in it a 
 lingering note of appeal, as if even yet he was clinging 
 to some floating fragment from the wreck of his lost 
 happiness, and with the blind hope of reconstruction. 
 It is so difficult when one is still young to settle down 
 into patient acceptation of the irremediable. Daily 
 the separation between them had been growing wider. 
 This act of hers, unimportant in itself, but which had 
 taken on a special significance through the fact that 
 she had allowed it to become somewhat of the nature 
 
 276
 
 LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 of a revolt, had begun to mark a new period in their 
 marital relations. It seemed to reduce them to the 
 low and vlugar plane of the outwardly incompatible. 
 Perhaps it was his breeding that suffered most, the 
 mental and emotional parts of him being shielded 
 from her power greatly to hurt, through the melan- 
 choly realization that had early come to him. 
 
 "Was it because of that?" he repeated, a look of 
 profound sadness showing on the young face. 
 
 She thought a moment before she answered him, 
 idly slipping off and on her wedding ring, and tapping 
 the floor with her foot. All at once she wheeled and 
 sat sidewise in her chair, throwing one arm over the 
 back. Then she met his gaze a trifle defiantly, and 
 with something like a return to her old nonchalance, 
 as her lips curled in a slow smile. 
 
 "Yes," she responded, steadily, "it was because of 
 that just that." 
 
 "I am sorry that you didn't tell me, Marian." 
 " That I didn't give you the opportunity to object ? " 
 "I should not have objected." 
 She looked up quickly. " You mean " 
 " I mean simply that if you have a taste for that sort 
 of thing I do not see upon what reasonable grounds I 
 can oppose you in gratifying it. There is something 
 almost ludicrous in the strange idea you seem to have 
 taken up with regard to me if you will pardon me 
 
 277
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 for saying so. Have I ever" he hesitated an instant, 
 and then met her eyes very gravely "have I ever 
 shown myself in any way tryannical toward you ? " 
 
 She laughed softly to herself. "Perhaps you half 
 suspected that I do not belong to the meek, down- 
 trodden order." 
 
 He winced a little under the evident sarcasm of the 
 fling, and colored. "I should have said exacting," he 
 supplemented, quickly, boyishly awkward in the pres- 
 ence of her coolness, which made her seem many years 
 older than himself. 
 
 She was silent a long time, looking down at the rug 
 at her feet. Presently she gave a wearied shrug of 
 the shoulders as if dismissing the subject from her 
 thoughts. " You have not been in the least exacting," 
 she said; "I exonerate you wholly. A man is only 
 exacting with the woman who has once aroused his 
 jealous feeling, and you must admit that my opportu- 
 nities for doing anything like that have been limited. 
 Then she quoted lightly: 
 
 " ' For patience she will prove a second Grissel 
 And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.' 
 
 What is it, Susan?" she broke off, "come in, and 
 don't stand there knocking. Ah, a note for me? 
 Bring it to me. Is some one waiting for an answer ? " 
 She opened the envelope quickly, not glancing at the 
 superscription, her fingers trembling a little, and her 
 
 278
 
 LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 face flushing with excitement, while Roger sat watching 
 her wonderingly. She had quite forgotten his very 
 presence even. Her breath was coming tumultuously, 
 and her lips were parted, as if she were seeking eagerly 
 to drink in the contents of the note by an actual physical 
 movement, just as if it were in reality the sparkling 
 draught she anticipated. Her eyes glowed dark and 
 luminous, and she turned her head to one side, in order 
 that the light might fall better upon the page, with an 
 almost girlish coquetry. 
 
 But at first sight of the penmanship within she gave 
 a little gasp of disappointment. It was not what she 
 had expected. The note was written in a nondescript 
 feminine handwriting and phrased in language the 
 most conventional. However, as her glance fell upon 
 the closing sentence her expression quickly altered 
 again. It was this: "I venture to hope that we have 
 a special inducement to offer in the presence of Mr. 
 Francis Waller, who will be with us for several days. 
 He tells me that he knows Mr. Boiling quite well, 
 and that he has also had the pleasure of meeting 
 you." 
 
 Marian slipped the note back into its envelope. 
 Her excitement had become controlled, but she was 
 unable to keep a certain anxiety out of her voice when 
 she next spoke, though she was plainly trying to ap- 
 pear unconcerned. She first dismissed the maid, telling 
 
 279
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 her to return in five minutes. Then she glanced at 
 Roger. 
 
 "This is from Mrs. Sullivan," she said; "she is 
 asking us to dine with her to-morrow evening at eight 
 o'clock. Shall we accept?" 
 
 Roger had been leaning on one elbow supported by 
 many sofa pillows which he had piled up in a heap in 
 a corner of the lounge. At her inquiry he raised himself 
 quickly. 
 
 "I am so sorry, Marian," he was beginning with 
 genuine regret, but she interrupted. 
 
 "I wish to go," she said, decisively, a swift flame 
 sweeping from neck to brow. 
 
 He gazed at her in dumb bewilderment at the 
 unmistakable anger of her look and tone. 
 
 "Yes, but " 
 
 " Up to this time I have declined everything, without 
 an exception, out of regard for for your loss, but it 
 is not just or kind that you should expect me to keep 
 on doing that sort of thing forever." 
 
 He turned his face away, more stung by her unfeeling 
 reference to his sorrow than if she had brutally raised 
 her hand and struck him. Presently he rose and went 
 over and stood a moment at the window looking out 
 into the gathering summer twilight, yet seeing nothing 
 save an undistinguishable blur of objects before his 
 eyes. Some bees were droning in the honeysuckle 
 
 280
 
 LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 down below. When he turned finally he had grown 
 very pale, but his manner seemed to have taken on a 
 new calm and dignity. 
 
 " I know that it has been very dreary for you here," 
 he said at last in a low voice, as he stood before her, 
 resting one hand on the dressing-table, his fingers now 
 and then wandering aimlessly among the little cut-glass 
 and silver receptacles and feminine trifles with which 
 it was strewn. Somehow he found it almost too diffi- 
 cult a thing to accomplish, to bring himself to meet 
 her eyes. A great shame for her most unexpected 
 outbreak was filling him with a sort of pity for her. 
 The words that he sought for would not come easily. 
 
 " It surely has," she responded, all at once breaking 
 into a light spasmodic laughter, and seeking to give 
 another turn to his seriousness. But she was nervous 
 and her gaiety sounded forced and mirthless. 
 
 He went on quite gravely. " I can well believe that 
 it has been like that. I am so sorry; I am trying to 
 understand. One of the things I came in just now for 
 was to say to you that I thought it would be best that 
 we should go out more. I am afraid that I have been 
 very selfish; my work is so absorbing, and I never 
 cared a straw for society. I can see that a woman 
 might think about it very differently, and I want to put 
 myself in your place, as far as I may be able, and try 
 to get your point of view. My mother had many 
 
 281
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 friends here, and for her sake I am sure that they will 
 wish to be especially civil to you." 
 
 "People get tired of inviting those that never re- 
 spond," she replied, with her eyes on the ceiling. 
 
 "I mean that they shall not get tired of inviting us 
 for that reason," he said, cheerfully, "for w.e shall 
 respond with the utmost alacrity. I am going to turn 
 over a new leaf and drag you into all sorts of tiresome 
 things. I may even risk being described like the hero 
 of the little poem I shall recite to you : 
 
 " There was a young man so benighted, 
 He never knew when he was slighted; 
 He went to a party, 
 And ate just as hearty, 
 As if he'd been really invited." 
 
 " And yet we are not to begin with the Sullivans ? " 
 she asked, the eagerness once more returning to her 
 voice. She was breathing quickly, and she leaned a 
 little toward him, her whole being expressing an 
 intensity of desire for his acquiescence. 
 
 "We can't; you have invited the Caldwells here in 
 honor of my birthday." 
 
 She drew back, a great relief in her eyes. " Oh ! " she 
 cried, " is it that, only that ? I will telephone them not 
 to come, and I will write at once and accept this. I had 
 forgotten all about them ; they have been so long away." 
 
 He looked at her very quietly, for the first time 
 meeting her eyes. 
 
 282
 
 LIGHT THAT LED ASTRAY 
 
 "You asked them three days ago," he said, "and 
 they promised to be here. If any other invitations 
 have come to them, they must have declined them; so 
 that to tell them at this late hour that you would 
 rather go somewhere else than stay here and receive 
 them is a thing that is hardly to be considered, par- 
 ticularly as we have scarcely seen them since their 
 return." 
 
 "You put it so baldly. I am sure that they would 
 understand." 
 
 "At all events we will not take the chances on their 
 failure to do so." 
 
 She gave him a quick little glance and decided to 
 change her tactics. She rose and stood by his side, 
 linking her arm in his, and pressing close against 
 him. 
 
 " Roger please ! " she whispered. " Don't be silly; 
 I do so want to go." 
 
 He neither accepted nor repelled her caress. He 
 only stood looking dumbly at her, surprised that she 
 should, even after he had reminded her, still wish to 
 show this discourtesy to the two people who had most 
 befriended her in all the world. 
 
 "I am sorry," he replied, at length, "but it is impos- 
 sible." 
 
 She turned away, and again he was conscious of 
 the low ground-swell of anger rising in her. She 
 
 283
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 moved across the room to her writing-desk and opened 
 it. 
 
 " Will you send Susan ? " she said, icily, over her 
 shoulder. And Roger, feeling himself to be dismissed, 
 like a child who has behaved itself unseemly, bowed 
 and left the room in silence. 
 
 284
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 FROM that time on the chasm between them widened 
 rapidly, Marian permitting herself a coldness toward 
 him that even Roger's courtesy which was of the 
 alert and cheerful kind, unfailing in its chivalrous, 
 Southern expression found it difficult to ignore. 
 The truth was, her disappointment with regard to the 
 Sullivan dinner was twofold. She bitterly regretted 
 the loss of what she considered an opportunity in the 
 way of social prestige, as the event was one to which 
 Rosalie Raymond's ready pen had lent a unique dis- 
 tinction, the amiable sarcasm of the brilliant, high-born 
 girl, which now and then hit the mark a trifle too 
 surely, especially when dealing with the parvenu, being 
 something that Marian, had she been numbered among 
 the guests, would have welcomed in this instance as 
 an aid in the direction of a longed for personal con- 
 spicuousness. But she was most of all disturbed that 
 she was frustrated in her desire to see again Francis 
 Waller. Since that moment at the fair grounds when 
 
 285
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 he had tossed her the rose from his buttonhole, he had 
 haunted her thoughts persistently. His expression had 
 both baffled and allured her. She could not begin to 
 understand it, and there were times when the memory 
 of it held her strangely captive, and she felt those 
 greenish eyes of his upon her conquering her as by a 
 mesmeric spell. She was eager to match her wits with 
 his. But the chance was denied her. He left in a 
 day or two, and the next she heard of him was that he 
 was spending the autumn in New York. 
 
 She grew restless and moody, only fitfully interested 
 in the life about her, at one time throwing herself with 
 desperate abandon into whatever gaiety the place 
 afforded, and almost running Roger into debt to 
 gratify her whim for a number of new and costly 
 gowns, at another disdaining everything and every- 
 body while she spent her time out-stretched on the lounge 
 in her bedroom, skimming the pages of a novel, or 
 gazing idly out of the window. As October came on 
 she formed a resolution. It was to go to Cincinnati 
 once a week for voice culture and lessons in the theory 
 of music. She had already studied considerably, under 
 fairly good instruction, and formerly she had seriously 
 contemplated the stage as a profession. She now 
 thought of music as an outlet. 
 
 When the plan was proposed to Roger he had 
 looked blank for an instant and seemed to hesitate. 
 
 286
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 As a matter of fact he did not at all see just how he 
 was going to gratify her, as they were already living 
 up to the last penny of their income, but he only said, 
 with quickly attempted cheerfulness: 
 
 "I I think I can accomplish it, Marian, if you 
 want to go. When should you like to begin ? " 
 
 "At once," she answered. "I shall go and return 
 in the same day. I shall not mind the long journey; 
 it will be much pleasanter than staying at home 
 and cheaper, after all, than entertaining. You know 
 I told you that I thought of a series of small dinners. 
 On the whole, I believe I prefer to study music; the 
 life here begins to bore me." 
 
 And so weekly she made her pilgrimage, returning 
 every Saturday evening a little pale and wearied, yet 
 pleased at the praise she had received, for her voice 
 was developing marvelously under the skilful training. 
 
 Music was indeed an excellent escape for the varied, 
 pent-up emotions within her, which, since her marriage, 
 had been steadily gaining in intensity, gathering 
 toward some sort of outbreak, like hurrying clouds, 
 her recent apparent quietude being but the lull before 
 the storm. With amazing energy for one of her 
 tropical, ease-loving temperament she gave herself up 
 to the work assigned to her, her whole being pulsing 
 and vibrating to the new impulse as a musical in- 
 strument whose chords have been sounded. Her 
 
 287
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 listlessness seemed to fall from her through a kind of 
 magical influence; and Roger, seeing the great change 
 in her, and thankful beyond measure, went back again 
 with a freer mind to his law books, and to that lonely 
 life of the spirit in which she could have no share. 
 
 Francis Waller was almost forgotten. Sometimes, 
 as she wandered aimlessly about the streets of Cin- 
 cinnati, after her lessons were over, the possibility of 
 an accidental meeting with him would suggest itself, 
 startling her like an unexpected flashlight, and her 
 heart would give a wild, exultant leap which sent the 
 warm blood racing through her veins. She had not 
 the smallest sense of shame for this excitability at the 
 bare thought of him, not only because of a moral 
 obtuseness that rendered her indifferent to many 
 things that the finer order of woman seeks to shield 
 herself from, but because of the realization of the utter 
 hopelessness of her present situation with regard to 
 him; so that she had come to look upon these rare 
 reminders of him and her own feeling concerning 
 them as something merely fanciful and romantic, the 
 effect of which was like the thrill that sometimes came 
 to her through her music, or when reading a particu- 
 larly luminous paragraph. She wondered why she had 
 so disturbed herself about him a short time previous, 
 and was even a little amused with herself for having 
 taken the loss of the Sullivan dinner so seriously. 
 
 288
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 Had she expected actually to meet him now her re- 
 flections possibly might have been different. But 
 there seemed little probability of this. The papers 
 reported him as deeply absorbed in a new piece of 
 work, nearing completion, which was not to appear, 
 however, before the following midsummer, the effort 
 being pronounced by him as the greatest achievement 
 he had thus far accomplished a form of expression 
 invariably employed by him in relation to his latest 
 book. He was furthermore described as living very 
 quietly in New York, where he had gone for the sake 
 of the literary atmosphere, the monotony of his exist- 
 ence being unbroken save by an occasional opera, or 
 dinner to his friends. He himself, it was said, seldom 
 accepted an invitation. 
 
 Marian had just been reading some such notice 
 with respect to him in a periodical containing a por- 
 trait and sketch of him. Half an hour before she had 
 come from her singing-master, and she was still glow- 
 ing under his approval. As she emerged from the 
 long, tunnel-like passage leading out from the College 
 of Music, she had stood a moment debating as to how 
 she should spend the remaining two hours before 
 train time. It was a dark November afternoon, and 
 the Cincinnati streets were muddy. The city was 
 even grayer and more cheerless than it ordinarily seemed 
 to her, yet no outward aspect of things affected her 
 
 289
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 greatly when her own affairs were running smoothly. 
 She was to-day in excellent spirits, and she decided 
 as she entered a car that she would spend part of the 
 time in a book shop, among the magazines and the 
 latest fiction. She would not walk much on account 
 of the mud; besides she was a little tired. Ah, with 
 what fervor had she sung that last thing! She could 
 see that Gionnanni was well pleased, though as yet 
 he was not quite willing to admit all that she would 
 like to hear. Her mind was still full of his comment 
 when she entered the book shop. 
 
 She had been there some time when suddenly it 
 occurred to her that she had had no luncheon. With 
 a smile at her own absorption she was turning away 
 from the heaps of books and magazines of all kinds 
 to which she had been giving a desultory attention 
 when her glance fell upon a journal of literary criticism 
 that thus far she had not seen. She picked it up and 
 it opened at the sketch referred to. 
 
 "I will take this," she said to a clerk a moment 
 afterward. "No; don't wrap it up, please." Then 
 she paid for it and passed out. 
 
 Outside the fog had grown denser, and the tall 
 buildings muffled in an icy mist gave to the scene a 
 somberness that was both chilling and oppressive. It 
 was but little more than two o'clock, yet one would 
 have said that it was nearer five. Electric lights 
 
 290
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 blazed in most of the shop windows, and Marian 
 glanced aside from time to time when the display 
 within attracted her. Despite the dreariness of the 
 weather the streets were crowded. Men and women 
 of all grades passed and repassed in a continual 
 counter current, until the eye became wearied and 
 surveyed the throng as a mere aggregate, its char- 
 acteristic features being lost sight of. Yet it was 
 most distinctive; and save for an occasional soft 
 Southern accent that now and then fell upon her ears 
 she would have felt herself as far removed from 
 Kentucky as if transplanted across the continent, the 
 line of separation made by the Ohio River being 
 far wider than the historic stream might reasonably 
 suggest. 
 
 She was hurrying along, clutching with one hand 
 her music case and the magazine she had just bought, 
 and with the other her umbrella, when, quite suddenly, 
 out of the crowd of unknown persons approaching, 
 a face stood out with startling clearness, a man's face, 
 one instant seen and then lost again in the moving 
 mass of humanity. 
 
 She gave a short gasp and went pale, at the same 
 moment throwing a quick, desperate glance around 
 like that of some wild thing entrapped and seeking 
 flight. She stood stock still for an instant, and then 
 involuntarily drew back into the shadow of a building. 
 
 291
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 The crowd parted slightly again, and she had reassur- 
 ance that her eyes had not deceived her. 
 
 The man was coming nearer, although not hasten- 
 ing his steps, being wholly unconscious of her prox- 
 imity. He was notably well dressed, his clothing, 
 however, being elegantly unobtrusive, and he was 
 walking with that air of half-insolent self-absorption 
 and aloofness with which the individual of inferior 
 order of genuis often seeks to augment his importance. 
 Now and then a head in the crowd was turned for 
 another glance at the distinguished personage, whose 
 rapt expression gave token of safety from detection. 
 As he came into full view Marian stepped down from 
 her hiding place. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Waller?" she said. 
 
 The great author wheeled briskly, and his greenish 
 eyes flashed a look of surprised inquiry in the direc- 
 tion whence the voice had proceeded. Then he caught 
 sight of Marian. His thin skin flushed sensitively as 
 he hurried forward. 
 
 "Ah, this is as delightful as it is unexpected!" he 
 exclaimed, holding out his hand. His gaze searched 
 her face curiously, and he was smiling, a peculiar, 
 flattering, cynical look that was at the same time 
 reserved and insinuating showing on his features. 
 "What brings you to Cincinnati, may I ask?" 
 
 She dropped her eyes as in sudden shyness. Her 
 292
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 heart was pounding heavily and a delicate pink was 
 in her cheeks. Her whole being was thrillingly alive 
 to him, and he knew it. "I am on business bent," 
 she answered at last. " I come here every Saturday 
 for lessons in music, I hasten to explain, for fear, from 
 the appearance of this, you might mistake me for a 
 magazine agent." 
 
 She glanced down at her music case, and his eyes 
 following the movement fell upon the literary journal 
 containing the portrait and sketch of himself. He 
 recognized it instantly, and a quick gleam shot from 
 beneath his lowered lashes, but he made no comment. 
 It was, however, a delicious sop to his vanity, this 
 silent expression of her interest and tribute to his 
 distinction. 
 
 "You have never told me what you think of that 
 last book of mine," he gently chided, his expression 
 becoming more admiring and less whimsical. The 
 truth was there was no surer road to his respectful 
 notice than by way of a sympathetic appreciation of 
 his books. Even praise the most fatuous, if sufficiently 
 eulogistic, was always cordially welcomed by him 
 and received with the gravity of one who took himself 
 far too seriously ever to suspect that it might be in 
 any degree fulsome. Adverse criticism threw him into 
 a rage, which, having exhausted its fury, was apt to 
 simmer down into a melancholy, plaintive sort of 
 
 293
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 brooding that ultimately took on form and an ex- 
 quisite beauty of expression, being finally given to 
 the world in the wail of the misunderstood. Marian's 
 adoring attitude toward his genius, her genuine lik- 
 ing for the artificiality of the romanticist point of view, 
 which the unsoundness of her own nature rendered 
 peculiarly appealing, her delight in his glowing, Ros- 
 setti-like phrases and warm sensuousness of tone caused 
 her to take on a value in his eyes which otherwise it 
 would have been impossible for her to attain. 
 
 "Aren't you going to tell me?" he insisted, feeling 
 no hesitation in introducing the topic at once as 
 paramount. 
 
 She was still silent, and he darted a quick, suspicious 
 glance at her. 
 
 " Ah, you didn't like it ! " he said, withdrawing from 
 her instantly, and with a gesture that was both depre- 
 cating and offended. 
 
 She raised her eyes to his. For a moment she met 
 his gaze with something of her old effrontery and 
 dashing irresponsibility, but she could not quite carry 
 it off. Some strange power in the man seemed to 
 subdue and humble her. The panther in her was 
 conquered as in the presence of a keeper. 
 
 "I did like it," she responded, looking away. "I 
 thought it I think it, I should say, for I almost know 
 it by heart beautiful, most beautiful." 
 
 294
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 " And yet you didn't want to tell me so ? " 
 
 His tone was very patient and encouraging. Once 
 more he was beaming upon her. 
 
 " I wanted to, but I couldn't," she answered, slowly. 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 "For one thing, I thought it would take too long; 
 I didn't know that I could say it quite so concisely." 
 
 " You said it gloriously ! " he replied. He pulled out 
 his watch, and deliberated. 
 
 " Have you had luncheon ? " he inquired. 
 
 "No not yet." 
 
 " Good ! Then you will come and join me. We are 
 just in a block of the St. Nicholas, and there will be 
 abundance of time; your train does not leave until 
 four." 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 " Please come," he begged. " Think how dreary life 
 must be for a man who seldom sits down to a table with 
 a face opposite him, and be merciful. Let me know 
 for once just how it would feel to look up and meet 
 those eyes of yours in the delightfully intimate com- 
 panionship of a luncheon table. By the way, they are 
 very lovely eyes. Do you know it?" 
 
 She laughed, and glowed a little, and consented. 
 As they went along he told her of the sister upon whom 
 he had lavished the affection of his boyhood " that 
 purest flame," he called it, " that may never again burn 
 
 295
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 so brightly." He spoke touchingly of the awful grief 
 that had swept over him at the time of her marriage, 
 and of his great desolation after she had left him. It 
 was a favorite theme. It seldom failed to evoke femi- 
 nine compassion, and feminine compassion was some- 
 thing that he would have found it quite impossible to 
 exist without, the role of the unfortunate, the lonely, 
 the sad, being one that he frequently resorted to. 
 
 Marian, though not by nature sympathetic, was duly 
 impressed. Her ordinarily keen judgment, which was 
 far from inclining her toward the sentimental view, for 
 once had completely failed her. Her attitude was all 
 that he could have wished for. There was a sort of 
 suppressed excitement about her which was most 
 flattering. He was usually disposed to be somewhat 
 critical with regard to womankind, his taste being the 
 most fastidious, but as he ushered her into the hotel, 
 he forbore to look beyond her ripe beauty to any of 
 the flaws which his own sensitivity was apt to make 
 him acutely alive to. Her lack of breeding seemed to 
 him to be atoned for by her cleverness and her vivid, 
 florid style, which in itself was an intoxication. He 
 thought her wondrously beautiful, altogether the most 
 gorgeous tropical flower he had seen for many a day. 
 
 They found a table near one of the windows, and 
 Marian, with a delicious sense of luxury stealing over 
 her, leaned back in her chair while he gave his order 
 
 296
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 in a low tone to the waiter. She looked idly about the 
 room as she slowly drew off her gloves. It was com- 
 fortably filled, and there, was a subdued hum of voices. 
 The softened lights, the dainty service, the cheerful 
 camaraderie, were a pleasant contrast to the dreary, 
 darkening streets. Everything was quiet, well-or- 
 dered, elegant, agreeable to the senses. Some very 
 polished looking people were lunching at the table next 
 to theirs, evidently a mother and her two daughters. 
 She noticed that they all three looked up and spoke as 
 Francis Waller passed them, the mother with extreme 
 graciousness, and the girls, who were very young and 
 shy, with a sort of blushing self-consciousness that 
 revealed their respect for the august presence in their 
 neighborhood. 
 
 He ordered an elaborate menu, with several kinds 
 of wine. He was fond of good living, a fact to which 
 his increasing avoirdupois bore painful witness, and 
 he was, furthermore, eager to show a special courtesy. 
 Marian had pleased him. 
 
 She was well aware of it. Already the thought had 
 warmed her through and through. More stimulating 
 than the wines he offered, the realization had sent a 
 wild thrill through her, made poignant by despair. 
 Had she met him thus but one little year earlier, how 
 different, she thought bitterly, would her fate have 
 been! 
 
 297
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 The repast proceeded slowly, elegantly, with a due 
 regard for gastronomic enjoyment, and with a certain 
 light and evanescent banter more frothy than whipped 
 cream, more sparkling than champagne. The room 
 was nearly empty now. The gracious matron and the 
 two young girls had gone. They were practically alone 
 when he leaned toward her with a complete change of 
 tone. They had talked of his books, of his travels, of 
 himself, but not once had he made even an indirect 
 reference to her marriage, or to another topic which 
 throughout had been intruding upon her thoughts like 
 a child tugging at her skirts. Could it be that he had 
 actually forgotten ? 
 
 "Were you altogether sure," he asked, looking her 
 full in the eyes, "that I did not know you when I met 
 you that day more than a year ago ? " 
 
 She started. " What day do you mean ? " she said, 
 quickly, fingering her wine-glass. 
 
 He gave a short laugh. " Must I be more explicit ? 
 Or did the incident make too little impression to be 
 remembered? Perhaps it will refresh your memory 
 to say that you were driving with with Mr. Boiling, 
 and you met me taking a stroll not far from the Sullivan 
 mansion. It was just a few months before your 
 marriage. Has the occurrence escaped your recollec- 
 tion?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 298
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 He leaned his arms upon the table and bent forward. 
 He was still smiling, and his eyes, half closed, were 
 riveted upon her; a gleam like the flash from an emerald 
 darted from beneath his lowered lids. 
 
 " Were you sure ? " he repeated. 
 
 " I was quite sure." 
 
 "Then you did not attribute to me a fine bit of 
 acting in order to spare the situation?" 
 
 "I knew that it was not acting." 
 
 He threw back his head and laughed softly. "You 
 were right," he answered, presently, very slowly, still 
 watching her with that same intent, partly cynical, 
 partly flattering gaze, "you were right; it was not 
 pretense. I was sincerely puzzled." 
 
 "I knew that you were." 
 
 "Shall I tell you the reason?" 
 
 She glanced toward him and, instantly withdrawing 
 her eyes, bowed faintly. 
 
 " You give me permission ? " His manner was insin- 
 uating, intimate, the expression of infinite subtleties 
 and finer shades of meaning too delicate to be translated. 
 
 She waited, breathing quickly, her whole being 
 glowing and palpitating in his presence. Her lips were 
 parted, and her face was turned to his like a sunflower 
 toward its god. She was silent and he went on quickly, 
 warming to her allurement. His voice dropped to a 
 whisper. 
 
 299
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " It was because I was bewildered, dazzled, drunken 
 at the first draught: your beauty was too strong for me; 
 it was some marvelous mixture in a golden chalice 
 such as one of the old vikings might have quaffed on 
 returning from his plunderings; it was soft and undu- 
 lating as a sun-kissed wave when it encircles the hardy 
 swimmer; it was enchantment, it was rapture, it 
 
 He stopped short and caught in his breath, surprised 
 at his own vehemence. He was not accustomed to 
 make love so violently, if indeed it could be said of 
 him that he made love at all. His tactics with women, 
 married or unmarried, as a rule were most discreet. 
 He was well aware that what he had said was almost 
 a burlesque; yet, such was his capacity of simulating 
 an emotion he had never experienced, the thing feigned 
 at once took on reality. It was not difficult now to 
 persuade himself that the momentary pleasure he had 
 felt at sight of a beautiful woman had meant to him 
 all that he had described ; his own words had completely 
 captivated him. 
 
 " But you had my photograph," she said, entranced. 
 
 He shook his head sadly, as if meaning to imply 
 unutterable things. He sat twirling his glass medita- 
 tively. 
 
 " True; I had your photograph," he replied, at length, 
 "but no photographer could adequately give you. I 
 had not dreamed that you were half so lovely." 
 
 300
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 She put up her hand and smoothed a stray lock 
 beneath her hat. 
 
 "Still it might have been sufficient to prove my 
 identity, I should think," she responded, coquettishly, 
 "that is, if you were at all familiar with it." 
 
 He flushed a little guiltily, knowing that he would 
 have been sadly straitened if called upon to produce 
 the photograph referred to. But she went on, her 
 manner becoming all at once embarrassed and shame- 
 faced. 
 
 "And you had you had my letters," she said in a 
 low voice, dropping her eyes and crimsoning painfully. 
 
 He turned quickly, some instinct of gentlemanly 
 feeling making him prompt to rescue her from her own 
 mortification. 
 
 " Ah, yes those letters ! " he responded, softly, in a 
 tone of tender, impassioned melancholy. 
 
 " They should have helped you to recognize me." 
 
 " They should they should ! " he cried, plaintively 
 and humbly. 
 
 The return of the waiter at this moment was most 
 opportune. Though the subject was one that must 
 have inevitably obtruded itself, having furthermore 
 been almost invited by him, he was eager to be done 
 with it, fearing at any instant that it would lead him 
 into realms where it were safer not to wander. As a 
 matter of fact his recollections with respect to the letters 
 
 301
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 were only a little less hazy than were those in relation 
 to the photograph. He only recalled them as the fervid, 
 almost immodest outpourings of a woman whom he 
 had not sought and had never even seen, which several 
 years before had been most lavishly bestowed upon 
 him. He was, however, in the habit of receiving many 
 such effusions. He was the type of man that women 
 as a rule are apt to care for and men not unfrequently 
 to abhor, though he was capable of charming both on 
 occasions. The revelation of himself through his books 
 had brought him an immense circle of feminine ac- 
 quaintances into whose faces he had never looked, but 
 who, nevertheless, were not content to remain strangers 
 to him. At first he had kept many of the letters that 
 were thus sent to him, the adoration that they breathed 
 often offering a healing balm to wounds inflicted by 
 less gentle critics. Gradually, however, he had ceased 
 to do this, not only because they had increased in 
 number, with the publication of each new volume, to 
 such an extent as actually to become a burden, but for 
 the reason that their oil and wine no longer soothed: 
 it was too frequently conveyed to him through the 
 medium of inferior English. Le mot juste was as much 
 to him as it was to Flaubert. 
 
 As for the letters sent him by Marian Day, he vaguely 
 remembered that they had impressed him as being 
 slightly above the average in composition, but by no 
 
 302
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 means possessing the literary quality. Their momen- 
 tary attraction for him had been due to the intensity 
 of passionate feeling they expressed, the reckless aban- 
 don with which the author yielded herself up to his art 
 and to himself. There were just ten of them in all. 
 The first was sent anonymously, but in such a manner 
 as to make it possible for him to reply to it. He did 
 reply to it, quoting to himself with a whimsical smile 
 these words : " Women want to be deceived, they force 
 you to it, and if you resist, they blame you." 
 
 But soon the correspondence bored him and he let 
 it come to naught, her last letters being allowed to 
 remain unanswered. Yet something of the writer's 
 potent personality had throbbed through her imperfect 
 expression, and he had never quite forgotten her. He 
 believed her to be very much in love with him. Most 
 of them he thought were more or less fascinated, but 
 they lacked her power, her superb surrender. It had 
 hurt him a little to treat her so shabbily, and he had 
 pictured to himself the maddening humiliation he 
 had inflicted, with a sort of quiet contemplation that was 
 both pitiful and sardonic. Once or twice afterwards 
 he had even thought of taking up the matter again, 
 not as a lover, but as a man and a gentleman, and 
 with the intention merely of removing forever from her 
 mind the impression he had wrongfully conveyed. 
 Before himself he posed always as a good man. It 
 
 303
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 was impossible that he should ever stoop to selfishness 
 or unkindness; and it seemed to him very noble and 
 high-minded that he should be disturbing himself 
 about an acquaintance of this kind, solely because he 
 might have misled her into the belief that he was really 
 interested in her in the way that she desired. He 
 had been interested, but only to the extent of allow- 
 ing himself to be worshiped. It is a romanticist's 
 way. 
 
 The waiter had just deposited the last course. As 
 soon as he had retired Francis Waller pulled out his 
 watch. " This has been very delightful," he exclaimed, 
 " and I thank you warmly, but I mustn't keep you here 
 long enough to make you miss your train, else Roger 
 will be holding me accountable." 
 
 He looked somewhat ruefully at his frozen pudding. 
 There was still time enough, but he would have pre- 
 ferred not to feel hurried that is, he would have so 
 felt had he not been a little anxious. He feared a 
 return to the subject of the letters, and he would have 
 been willing even to forego a favorite dainty rather 
 than have another reference to it. But in his nervous 
 suggestion as to the hour he had not sufficiently reckoned 
 upon Marian's intrepidity. 
 
 She toyed an instant with the rich confection before 
 her, then she raised her eyes and looked him squarely 
 in the face. 
 
 304
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 " If the letters were so much to you as much as 
 you imply why did you not respond to the last two 
 I sent you ? " 
 
 He flinched, but recovered himself quickly. He did 
 not reply at once. 
 
 "Ah, but there was a reason," he said, slowly and 
 sorrowfully, looking down at his plate. 
 
 Her eyes were glued to his face. There had been a 
 little catch in her voice when she spoke again, and her 
 cheeks were scarlet. His sensitive ear detected the 
 quivering note of appeal, the secret clutching after a 
 hope too long deferred, the pitiful effort to reestablish 
 herself and win back what had seemed to be lost. He 
 rose heroically to the occasion. 
 
 "There was a reason," he repeated, and then closed 
 his lips decisively, as if that reason were one that they 
 must on no account inquire into. 
 
 "I should like you to tell me what it was," she 
 insisted. 
 
 He looked up. " Must I dare I ? " he asked 
 hurriedly. 
 
 She leaned toward him and he could hear her breath 
 coming torn and in little gasps. She was smiling 
 softly, and her whole being was a persuasion. 
 
 "Yes!" she whispered, "yes!" 
 
 He sank back in his chair and his gaze wandered to 
 the window. 
 
 305
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " Dear lady," he said, presently, " you must already 
 know that there could never be but one reason why 
 any man would not respond to you. It is an old, old 
 expedient, the shift of silence, and men in all ages have 
 resorted to it, when circumstances and inclination 
 clashed. You will never know just what it cost me 
 not to reply to those letters." 
 
 He was not deliberately deceiving; far from it; on 
 the contrary, he was seldom sincerer in his life. He 
 had simply worked himself up into a mood, a passion 
 of exalted, tender feeling and patient renunciation, and 
 at the moment he meant and believed every word he 
 said. However, if he had but written it all to her he 
 would have done far better; he was readier with the 
 pen than with the tongue. But before she could 
 answer he went on again quickly: 
 
 " Ah, " he said, sadly, " how impossible is it that you 
 should understand! you who have never done any- 
 thing in the way of creative work, how can you even 
 dimly comprehend the awful hold that art takes upon 
 the man who hears within his own soul the voice of a 
 far-off greatness a greatness it may be in himself or 
 others to whom ' God whispers ' ? Yet always he hears 
 it, calling to him, commanding him to rise up and 
 go forth like Abraham into the unknown, to leave the 
 darkness of idolatry, of materialism, for the pure light 
 of reason, the lofty dreams of the spirit. Though I 
 
 306
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 dared not answer, I trust that much, much that I 
 would have said to you if I could was in the little book 
 I sent to you." 
 
 Marian rose, snatching up her gloves. She did not 
 meet his glance, and she only said, gravely: 
 
 "I think I should prefer a less indirect method of 
 expression. Now we must hurry, hurry, else I shall 
 miss my train." 
 
 But he knew that he had made his peace with her 
 by the radiance that suddenly overspread her features 
 and the look of triumph that lingered in her eyes. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock of the same evening, and 
 Francis Waller was sitting in the glow of his library 
 fire smoking a cigar. The great stone structure in 
 the suburbs of Cincinnati, somber, imposing, beautiful, 
 with its parklike enclosure of evergreen and forest 
 trees, its stately furnishings, works of art, and bric- 
 a-brac, had been opened temporarily, in order that 
 the distinguished author might here finish the closing 
 scenes of his latest romance. The work of the day 
 had been somewhat interrupted by his meeting with 
 Marian, and since dinner he had been going over 
 the pages written in the forenoon with a scholarly and 
 painstaking exactness, eliminating a sentence now 
 and again where the thought seemed crowded, adding 
 one where it seemed curtailed, and lending to the 
 
 307
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 whole those exquisite final touches that only the artist 
 born knows how to bestow, and that ever gave to his 
 work that delicate luminosity which constituted its 
 special elegance and charm of style. 
 
 He was now feeling a trifle wearied, and he had 
 drawn a comfortable chair up in front of the blazing 
 wood fire and was endeavoring to give himself up 
 wholly to the Dream a sort of luxurious, fantastic 
 state of mind partly induced by opiates in which his 
 thoughts took wing and floated like phantoms in an 
 ethereal realm, the lovely ghosts of desires never 
 quite real enough to take on distinctive form. Here 
 also the noblest impulses of his soul and he too had 
 his noble impulses, who of us has not ? wandered 
 stillborn or abortive, wailing for the consummation that 
 was denied them through their own inherent lack of 
 strength. Like many of his predecessors of his own 
 peculiar order of temperament, the Coleridges, the 
 Shelleys, the Poes, the Rossettis of the world those 
 intensely sensitive, suffering souls to whom he was a 
 brother he shrank from the mere pressure of life 
 at times with a vehemence that indicated acute tor- 
 ture; and like them he felt driven on occasions to re- 
 sort to the unwholesome, factitious aid of anodynes 
 that temporarily gratified and soothed, only to leave 
 behind an increase of nervous irritability in their 
 after effects that drove him well-nigh to distraction. 
 
 308
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 Of the many soft, entrancing visions, thus conjured, 
 that he was able to bring before him in heightened at- 
 tractiveness, one stood out separate and flawless, 
 clothed in the ideality of a poet's fancy and tenderly 
 beautiful. This it was that took precedence over all 
 others, excepting his dream of fame. Nightly at this 
 hour it came drifting down to him out of a white 
 cloud-land tipped with gold, and he saw her glorious 
 and resplendent. For the Dream then took on the 
 image of a woman, and that woman was Sibyl Fon- 
 taine. 
 
 It was this devotion to something afar from the 
 sphere of his sorrow that gave to his existence just that 
 fine rounding and completing that seemed to him to 
 render him greater both as an artist and as a man. 
 She had been distinctly a selection before he had ever 
 loved her; and in finally exalting her to the supreme 
 place over all other women in his thoughts, he was 
 by no means unmindful of the honor he conferred. 
 The fact that less with her than with any other woman 
 of his acquaintance he was justified in the assumption 
 that ultimately he should be successful only stimu- 
 lated rather than deterred. Others, like overhang- 
 ing fruit, had dropped too easily into his grasp; she 
 was the perfect peach upon the topmost bough, and 
 only the dauntless could hope to reach her. She would 
 not be quickly won. One must strive for her, and wait 
 
 309
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 for her, and deserve her, he well knew. Her pride 
 was exquisite to him. How magnificent to see it bend 
 to him, as the peach to the daring climber! 
 
 Some day he believed that it would bend to him. 
 In the meantime he was in no great haste to wear the 
 shackles of matrimony. Her piquant cleverness would 
 only become more charming as the years went by, 
 being tempered by an increase of sympathy as life 
 should reveal to her its inmost meaning; and the 
 thirteen years or more between them would gradually 
 narrow if opportunity were given her to develop her 
 mental powers. Although he had already made known 
 to her his intentions toward her, he meant to give her 
 that opportunity, being urged to the effort to win her 
 more securely by few of the impulses that drive men 
 headlong into marriage. It is true that he loved her; 
 but it was in his own way, and that way was of the 
 silent, brooding kind that offered tribute to her more 
 in the fashion of a poet than of a lover. The simple, 
 straightforward human homage of the man who seeks 
 to bind to himself by every possible tie the woman 
 he loves that he may possess her wholly, was a thing 
 unknown to him. Yet the one thing on earth, aside 
 from his art, that could rouse him to the very center 
 of his being was the dread, the actual terror, that 
 sometimes came over him that he might lose her. 
 The thought of it was a madness. 
 
 310
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 And it was this perhaps more than any other feeling 
 that in the main kept him true to her. For his loyalty 
 to her seemed to make her his. 
 
 But to-night he was disturbed by other things. 
 
 On the whole he regarded the experience of the 
 afternoon a blunder, just as the correspondence with 
 Marian had also been a blunder, though at the out- 
 set the affair had not been of his own seeking. It 
 had left his nerves considerably jarred; and, as a 
 result of the realization that he had gone further 
 than he should have gone with a married woman for 
 whom he cared not a penny, he was in that state of 
 irritability out of which even the thought of Sibyl 
 could not charm him, for the reason that it hurt 
 him now even to think of her at all. It was not 
 the wrong of the thing that troubled him; it was 
 his disgust that the imperfect should offer him ap- 
 peal. 
 
 Nevertheless, Marian had attracted him strangely. 
 As his thoughts dwelt upon her, sorely against his will, 
 to the exclusion of Sibyl, she seemed like some glit- 
 tering, beautiful serpent that had suddenly trailed across 
 his path, fascinating him and holding him spellbound. 
 All at once Roger Boiling's face came before him. He 
 rose and began to move up and down the room, some 
 sense of moral obligation as between man and man 
 waking and stirring. 
 
 311
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Conscience, or the thing within him that stood for 
 conscience, though ordinarily dormant, was making 
 him decidedly uncomfortable. Despite the warmth, 
 the luxury, the beauty all about him, he felt forlorn 
 and wretched. He began to grow angry, just as if all 
 the world had turned against him. 
 
 Once he went over and stood before the fire, look- 
 ing down into the writhing flames. Then he kicked 
 the logs impatiently, and turning away began his slow 
 march up and down the room again, with his hands 
 clasped behind him, his eyes on the floor. 
 
 It was long past midnight before he flung himself 
 down into his chair, wearied, more miserable than he 
 had been for many a day, and in that overwrought, 
 embittered frame of mind which often possessed him 
 for no more obvious reason than the present one, and 
 which now almost invariably sent him to the drug 
 that was fast gaining a hold upon him. 
 
 To-night he was in no mood for even a show of resist- 
 ance; the Dream had failed to bring him the solace it so 
 often did when tired from a hard day's work, or when 
 badgered by the critics; Sibyl also had turned against 
 him. 
 
 He sat for a few moments looking deeply into the 
 fire. The old reckless disregard of consequences, the 
 dare-devil spirit that rendered him savagely defiant of 
 the future, thirstingly alive to the present, began to 
 
 312
 
 DREAMER OF GOLDEN DREAMS 
 
 steal over him, paralyzing his will. Suddenly with a 
 low, demoniac sort of laughter he threw out his arms: 
 he had given up the struggle. Then he rose and went 
 back to his morphine, saying, as did Coleridge of his 
 laudanum, "This is my best friend." 
 
 313
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 " Do you think we can make it ? " 
 
 The words came haltingly and in a smothered 
 whisper, as Marian turned her face quickly but with- 
 out checking her pace. There was something like a 
 sob of terror in her voice. 
 
 Francis Waller did not reply for an instant. The 
 rapid gait at which they were proceeding was not 
 conducive to conversation and he was almost out of 
 breath. 
 
 "It is just barely possible," he said, at last, not 
 unmindful of his dignity. 
 
 Marian clutched his arm more wildly, and dragged 
 him onward. 
 
 " Then faster faster oh, you must get me there ! " 
 
 He gave a troubled glance around, but no carriage 
 was in sight, and their car had hurried past as they 
 issued from the restaurant. It was eight o'clock of a 
 raw wintry night just before Christmas, and the Cin- 
 cinnati streets were thronged. Marian had remained 
 
 314
 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 over for the afternoon performance of a light opera 
 she wished to hear, and afterwards she and Waller had 
 dined at a new place which he had been eager to make 
 her acquainted with. It was not so well known as the 
 St. Nicholas, and for that reason he preferred it as less 
 likely to render them conspicuous. He was beginning 
 to feel self-conscious. Since that first accidental 
 meeting of six or seven weeks before she had haunted 
 his thoughts persistently, his feeling toward her being 
 an intricacy of emotions difficult to disentangle, like 
 offshoots from a vine. The parent root, however, 
 was to be found in an extreme of vanity which she, more 
 than any other woman of his acquaintance, knew how 
 successfully to pander to. Sibyl Fontaine had never 
 flattered him. Though in many respects she had 
 seemed greatly to admire his work, he had never felt 
 quite satisfied with her attitude toward it, or toward 
 himself; she was altogether too cheerfully aloof from 
 that little sentimental note of tenderly persuasive 
 melancholy that pervaded everything of his, and that 
 with his feminine audience as a rule was most effect- 
 ive. She was wholly an optimist, albeit the most 
 poetic-minded woman he knew, as well as the most 
 cultured. It would have pleased him had she desired 
 to take her place among the lowliest of his worshipers ; 
 and had she done this, he on his part would have gladly 
 reached down and crowned her the queen of them all. 
 
 315
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 The picture thus presented was most agreeable to 
 him. 
 
 But Sibyl's natural piquancy and healthfulness of 
 disposition had safely rescued her from all such abase- 
 ment; and there were times when the serenity of her 
 self-poise, though it really sounded the keynote of his 
 profound respect for her, provoked him to an antago- 
 nism through the mere thought of it that sent him after 
 a totally different order of woman, while still desiring 
 her above all others. 
 
 Marian had offered the sharpest contrast possible to 
 the delicate-minded girl of his dreams; and to Marian 
 he had turned in a spirit of contrariety and of wounded 
 self-love, after Sibyl's failure to take the smallest notice 
 of his latest literary venture. She had ceased to be 
 for him the wife of another man, and that man one 
 whom he had called his friend ; she was merely a woman 
 who adored him, and on whom he was beginning to 
 lean for a sort of sympathy that he believed to be as es- 
 sential to his mental existence as food to the body. He 
 had spent a part of every day with her that she had 
 been in Cincinnati, their meetings taking on a certain 
 clandestine accent that to his taste was revolting, but 
 that to hers, due perhaps to some secret wantonness of 
 the blood, only added flavor. 
 
 This evening they had been more than ever absorbed 
 in each other, and the time had flown. Once indeed 
 
 316
 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 he had taken out his watch and glanced casually at the 
 hands. They pointed to twenty minutes after seven. 
 He did not know that his watch had stopped, owing to 
 his failure to wind it the day before when in one of 
 those abstracted states of mind that he was prone to. 
 
 They had talked on and on, forgetful of the passing 
 moments, when Marian had suddenly looked down at 
 the little jeweled timepiece that Roger had given her 
 which she wore on the outside of her maroon-colored 
 silk shirt waist. Her face went pale. 
 
 " Horrors ! " she exclaimed, jumping up and gathering 
 her belongings frantically together. "It is nearly 
 eight. What on earth shall I do? I shall miss my 
 train." 
 
 He pulled out his watch, stared at it, held it to his 
 ear, and then sprang to his feet, at the same moment 
 motioning to the waiter. He turned to Marian. " We 
 shall have to run for it," he said in a low voice. 
 
 An instant afterward he had thrust a sum of money 
 into the out-stretched hand of the attendant that fairly 
 set the head of that functionary a-whirliug, and mut- 
 tering, "I haven't time to wait for the change," he 
 snatched up his hat and Marian's music case, flung 
 his overcoat over his arm, and made a dash for the 
 doorway, whither Marian had already preceded him. 
 
 As the first keen blast of the icy outer air, heightened 
 by contrast with the heated atmosphere of the room he 
 
 317
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 had just left, smote him full in the face, he drew back 
 as from an uplifted hand raining quick blows upon 
 him, and struggled into his overcoat. His heart was 
 pounding heavily. A strange, terrible feeling was 
 beginning to creep over him. His throat felt dry and 
 parched. There was a steady tramp of footsteps past 
 the door, but he looked down at the ground, avoiding 
 the glance of the moving multitude like a culprit. 
 Marian was already far ahead, fleeing with the swiftness 
 of the wind, and as if from an impending danger. 
 He could see her shadow reflected in the brilliantly 
 lighted street now and then when the crowd parted. 
 
 He stood a moment deliberating, and in that instant 
 he lost sight of her completely. Once he lifted his 
 eyes as a car going in the opposite direction from the 
 station passed, and made a movement toward it. But 
 he checked the impulse to hail it. A sudden dogged 
 look had crept into his eyes. He waited an instant 
 longer and a gleam of recklessness and defiance shot 
 from under his half-closed lids. Then he turned and 
 sped after her. 
 
 When he had overtaken her he offered her his arm 
 and she took it without a word. They hurried on not 
 glancing to right or left. He had the collar of his 
 overcoat turned up and he had drawn on his gloves, 
 but her fur hung loose and her jacket was unfastened. 
 Her hand against his arm seemed white and cold as 
 
 313
 
 marble. She was panting, and her face when he now 
 and then looked into it as they passed beneath the 
 glare of an electric light startled him by its aspect. 
 He was wondering with a throb of selfish anxiety if she 
 were not going to faint, when she raised her eyes to his 
 and made the eager inquiry to which he had been able 
 to give only a discouraging response. 
 
 Some desperate and powerful contention seemed to 
 be stirring within her something that made her both 
 shrink from him and cling to him. She kept her face 
 averted as if loath to meet his eyes, and he could feel, 
 communicating itself to him like a shock from an 
 electric battery, the sudden sharp quivering that swept 
 through her from time to time as she drew back from 
 him and almost dropped his arm. But her hot breath 
 when she whispered to him fluttered against his cheek 
 like a caress. 
 
 He bent down his head to her. " Are you very tired ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Aren't we walking too fast for you ? " 
 
 "No no; we must hurry." 
 
 " I am quite sure that we cannot reach the station in 
 time, and the exertion may make you ill." 
 
 She laughed. "I am such a fragile creature!" 
 Then she added with that same half-terrified recoil 
 from him that he had already noticed, " it it is not 
 the exertion." 
 
 319
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 He did not answer for a moment, but his face was 
 as white as hers as he bent toward her again, and his 
 heart was beating wildly. "You are frightened?" he 
 asked low under his breath. 
 
 "Yes." The monosyllable fell from her lips in a 
 kind of mingled challenge and appeal. 
 
 "But we are nearly there now." 
 
 "We may be too late." 
 
 "And then ?" 
 
 She gave a short, stifled cry and broke away from 
 him, quickening her steps. A carriage bowled by 
 containing two people muffled in evening wraps, a 
 middle-aged woman and a young girl. As the vehicle 
 passed, an electric light shone full upon its occupants, 
 and Waller recognized them. They were the mother 
 and the elder of the two daughters who had sat at the 
 lunch table next to him and Marian at the St. Nicholas 
 weeks before. 
 
 He drew back quickly into the shadow, not wishing 
 to be seen by them with Marian, partly through a 
 sense of guilt that he had always when with her, and 
 that made him wish to avoid observation, and partly 
 because of an innately snobbish feeling that inclined 
 him to attach an undue valuation to the opinion of 
 these two particular persons, for no other reason save 
 that they happened to be important in the social 
 world in which he moved. He seemed to know in- 
 
 320
 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 tuitively that Marian was not the sort of person they 
 would admire. He was not a gentleman in the sense 
 that Roger Boiling was a gentleman. 
 
 However, his embarrassment was short-lived. The 
 carriage disappeared, and once more the tremendous 
 power of the woman, rendered far more persuasive 
 by her genuine, momentary reluctance, reasserted 
 itself, dominating him completely. All sense of per- 
 sonal responsibility was slipping away from him: 
 nature in that instant appeared supreme, and life 
 became purposeless, rudderless. 
 
 They had reached the station. He stood aside for 
 her to enter, and then they both rushed headlong 
 down below into the long cavernous enclosure whence 
 the trains go forth. An ominous stillness pervaded 
 the place. It was dismal and shadowy, the remote 
 corners being rendered particularly somber by con- 
 trast with the lighted spaces here and there. It was 
 quite deserted. In the distance a cloud of smoke 
 trailed above the track, and a steady, rumbling sound 
 fell upon the ear. The man at the gates was turning 
 away. Waller hastened up to him. 
 
 "What train was that that just went out?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "Q and C special," answered the man, laconically, 
 as he moved past. 
 
 Waller and Marian stood perfectly still. 
 321
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 The man suddenly paused and threw them an in- 
 different glance over his shoulder. 
 
 "Wuz you aimin' to go on that train?" 
 
 Waller nodded. 
 
 "Just missed it, mister; there she goes now," re- 
 sponded the man, cheerfully, as he disappeared within 
 a doorway. 
 
 The two still stood motionless. Neither spoke. 
 
 At length Marian moved away a step or two. "I 
 must send a telegram," she said, without meeting his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, shortly. 
 
 They went slowly up the flight of steps leading into 
 the general waiting-room, and he went for some tele- 
 graph blanks. 
 
 " Have you have you any relatives or friends 
 living in Cincinnati ? " he asked when he returned. 
 He was conscious that he was putting the question to 
 her as a mere form, and that he was but toying with his 
 destiny, which, fixed and resolute, would not alter 
 now for the sake of an evasion. 
 
 She sat down on one of the long wooden benches 
 with their many chair-shaped divisions that stretched 
 across the room, and put the pad he had brought her 
 on her knee. 
 
 "I have no relatives here," she answered in a very 
 low voice. "I had a friend she left to-day." 
 
 322
 
 Then she wrote: "Missed my train. Am with 
 Minnie Werner." 
 
 It was addressed to Roger Boiling, and the words 
 were barely legible, her hand was trembling so. She 
 held the slip of paper up for Waller to read. 
 
 "Who is this person?" he asked, glancing quickly 
 at her. 
 
 " My friend who left to-day." 
 
 He rose and crossed the room, handing the message 
 to the clerk at a desk at the far end. Then he re- 
 turned to her. 
 
 "I was expecting my sister from New York to be 
 with me this evening," he said, "and the servants at 
 my home were duly notified. I forgot to inform them, 
 however, of her change of plans disclosed in a letter 
 received from her at noon. She has not been here 
 for many years, and no one now living with me has 
 ever seen her. I will find a special feast prepared in 
 her honor and everything in readiness." 
 
 He spoke in a quiet, entirely matter-of-fact tone, 
 with his eyes on the loud-ticking clock high up on the 
 wall opposite. 
 
 She was sitting with her hands tightly clasped in her 
 lap and her head bowed. 
 
 She grew a shade whiter, but she did not move nor 
 speak. 
 
 He gave a quick glance around ; then he bent over her, 
 323
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 his face wild and haggard. "I think I can make you 
 entirely comfortable," he said. 
 
 She struggled to her feet. There was a moment's 
 uncertainty, and he watched her narrowly. The 
 room seemed to swim before her and she reached back 
 and grasped the round of the bench as if to steady 
 herself. There was a sound in her ears as of a great 
 bell deeply tolling the death-knell of all that she was 
 about to renounce. The moral law within her, though 
 usually a voice that was barely audible and seldom 
 regarded, was clamoring now, but more as a solemn 
 affirmation than as a warning. It was too late for 
 admonition; too late to retreat. With a woman of 
 her temperament the final result had been foreshadowed 
 in the first yielding. Afterwards she was as powerless 
 against the storm of feeling that bore down upon her 
 as a mere shanty in the sweep of a tornado. Her 
 doom had been already pronounced. She could see 
 nothing left her but to accept it; and in thus yielding 
 herself up to it there came a moment of lull followed 
 by a thrill of desperate, ecstatic joy in which the last 
 murmuring of conscience was forever silenced. 
 
 She slowly turned and raised her eyes to his; and as 
 she did so there came a warm surge of crimson into her 
 cheeks, and with it a sudden rekindling and mighty 
 stirring of all her powers that transformed her strangely, 
 and lent a wild energy to the delirium that was driving 
 
 324
 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 them both headlong like the mad impulse given a 
 forest-fire by a swift, onrushing wind. She was superb 
 in the might of her decision and in the completeness 
 of her surrender; and under the tremendous sweep of 
 the passions that swayed her she seemed for the instant 
 to be lifted out of the sphere of vulgar, or merely conj- 
 monplace, evil, and to take on a certain largeness of 
 attitude and of proportions that made her seem a being 
 of terrible, almost unearthly strength and beauty, a 
 goddess deigning to bestow herself upon mortal man. 
 
 He saw the change in her and his brain reeled. 
 Quick as a flash of lightning, response leaped from his 
 eyes to hers. He made an involuntary movement 
 toward her, bent down his head and spoke a few short, 
 unsteady, half-inarticulate words in her ear. He stood 
 a moment. Then he turned, and without replying she 
 followed him out of the close, brilliantly lighted building 
 into the chill and darkness of the street. 
 
 It was beginning to snow, and the icy flakes shot like 
 well-aimed pebbles into her face, clung to her garments, 
 and glistened jewel-like on her long fur boa. She 
 dashed them off with an odd laugh, and stood aside 
 while he went to call a carriage, her eyes, gleaming like 
 oriental stars, following his every movement, and finally 
 riveted upon the dark figure, as he hurried back to her, 
 in an intensity of unbridled feeling that urged him 
 onward and ever onward to the very brink of the 
 
 325
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 precipice whereon she waited with eager, out-stretched 
 arms. 
 
 His manner had lost its customary deliberateness. 
 He was desperately agitated. His eyes were bloodshot, 
 and his face, furrowed, stern, even forbidding in its 
 pallor, was kept resolutely from her, as if he mistrusted 
 even the small grasp upon himself he still retained and 
 dared not meet her gaze. She felt the violent trem- 
 bling of his arm against her own when he assisted her 
 into the carriage, and as she leaned for a moment 
 against him she knew that he was shaken to the very 
 foundations of his being by the thing he was about to 
 do. 
 
 Yet there was that in her audacity which appealed 
 powerfully to his somewhat timorous disposition; and 
 in the instant that he took his seat beside her she 
 realized with a thrill of exultation that was deep and 
 frenzied and diabolic in its unholy joy that the very 
 climax of her sway over him had been reached when, 
 obeying the imperious summons of a newly aroused 
 emotion, he flung morality and convention to the 
 winds, closed the carriage door upon them, and aban- 
 doned himself to all the consequences of his rash and 
 fatal step. 
 
 Neither spoke as they were borne rapidly along 
 through the crowded city streets. Now and then an 
 electric light flashing full in their faces showed her the 
 
 326
 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 elegant, distinguished figure at her side muffled in the 
 heavy overcoat dumb and motionless otherwise she 
 might readily have believed herself to be alone. He 
 was gazing fixedly out of the carriage window, the one 
 on his side, and she saw only imperfectly the clean cut 
 of his auburn beard, the sensitive outline of his thought- 
 ful, scholarly profile, her eye being caught and held by 
 the glassy stare that gave immobility to his features. 
 
 But the meaning of his absorption was something she 
 could define; and it was with a feeling half pitying and 
 wholly undisturbed that she found herself following 
 him into those gray regions of false philosophy wherein 
 the romanticist, forsaking his realm of ether, becomes 
 the rankest of realists and, in his desire for self-justifi- 
 cation and in his despondency, shrieks a bitter protest 
 against restriction, and clamors for nature's rights. 
 
 For her there had come not an instant of wavering. 
 Her resolution once taken had been final and irrevo- 
 cable. " Magnificent in sin," she stood conscienceless, 
 deliberate, defiant, daring to look the thing straight 
 in the face, invoking to her aid neither sophistry nor 
 delusion, caring to appease neither God nor man, and 
 seeking in the future they were thus darkly entering 
 upon no protection for herself but the splendid armor 
 of his love. 
 
 But if she were minded to play the part of Clytem- 
 nestra, that of ^Egisthus was by no means to his liking; 
 
 327
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 and one moment he was torn by a recognition of what 
 his madness surely would cost him, another engulfed 
 beneath the waves of passion that her yielding had 
 called forth passion that hitherto had been with him 
 more a thing to dream of than to be actually indulged 
 in, the melancholy of the unattainable being always 
 preferable to the ennui that in his case inevitably fol- 
 lowed upon fulfilment. Such a catastrophe as he had 
 been drawn into would have seemed to him a year 
 before wholly beyond the bounds of possibility. But 
 the drug he was in the habit of taking had weakened 
 his will and developed in him that tendency to skep- 
 ticism which gave pronouncement to his attitude of 
 life, an attitude of rebellion wherein the more discerning 
 saw ever foreshadowed in the philosopher and the 
 moralist the cynic and the sensualist whatever 
 contradiction his writings or his mode of conduct 
 might show. 
 
 A dread of the scorn of his fellow-beings, before 
 whom he had posed always as a respecter of law, 
 rather than any profound sense of outrage against the 
 social structure, which, to the extent of his act, he was 
 about to undermine, made the plunge he had just 
 taken startlingly sobering. A cold perspiration stood 
 out on his brow, and his face was hard and set. 
 
 Self-conscious by nature, the situation was one at 
 which he revolted, without, however, any thought of 
 
 328
 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 escape. Clotho and Lachesis had spun a strange 
 garment of his destiny, and Atropos belike was already 
 approaching with her shears. What mattered it? 
 Life had not been so sweet a thing to him that he 
 should whine and cower at the thought of death. But 
 he was too fond of his own ease, and of his own incli- 
 nation, too impatient of any disturbance that intruded 
 upon his art, not to feel an instinctive shrinking from 
 the future before him if there were to be any future. 
 However, a bullet from Roger Boiling's revolver might 
 end the business, he reflected, with a sort of grim 
 humor, as he sat wrapped in a moody silence into 
 which Marian's ready intuition forbade her to venture. 
 She leaned far back in the corner of the carriage, 
 and closed her eyes. Now and then a slow smile 
 played about her lips; otherwise her face was white 
 and still as a statue's. But though she was aware of 
 much of which he was thinking, it caused her no 
 alarm that even in these first moments of bestowment 
 he should appear strangely lacking in tenderness and 
 thoughtfulness toward her. Genius, it seemed to her, 
 was not to be tried by ordinary human standards; and 
 the proof of his love for her was in his presence by her 
 side. Her faith in herself had been given a new and 
 powerful stimulus, and under the intoxicant of his 
 capitulation, she fancied that she knew him through 
 and through, and had little dread that his present 
 
 329
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 mood would not pass. There was something soothing 
 in the steady roll of the vehicle, and she kept her eyes 
 closed for a long time. 
 
 When she opened them again they were quite out 
 in the suburbs, and she was conscious of a calm white 
 light over everything, and a sense of nearing their 
 destination. A heavy snow lay on the ground, and it 
 gave a weird distinctness to the objects they passed. 
 Some of the homes were stately and beautiful, and she 
 felt the little envious pang that always came to her at 
 the sight of luxury. 
 
 All at once her heart gave a wild, exultant leap, and 
 she turned and looked steadily at Waller. At the same 
 instant the carriage paused, and there was a brief 
 waiting, and they turned into a wide gateway and were 
 borne noiselessly up a long avenue flanked with ghostly 
 trees, in the direction of a great stone building from 
 whose many windows lights twinkled like glow-worms 
 in the darkness. Then the vehicle came to a standstill, 
 and they got out, and Waller dismissed it. 
 
 The two stood alone on the snow-covered terrace. 
 Like a phantom coach the carriage moved along the 
 tortuous driveway and faded into the night, long white 
 spectral arms seeming to clutch at it as it passed. 
 There was a vast silence all about them, as if even 
 nature waited breathless for the next act in their poor 
 tragedy. It was not snowing now, and it had grown 
 
 330
 
 THE FLIGHT 
 
 clearer and much colder. A full-orbed moon was just 
 visible above the evergreens that stood on a little knoll 
 to the rear of the building, and its light fell softly upon 
 Marian's upturned face and gleamed upon her heavy 
 twists of gold-brown hair. Her fur hung loose, as if 
 she were unmindful of the cold, and her breath came 
 hot and tumultuous. 
 
 Something that the moonlight brought out in her 
 aspect, the sense of her utter aloneness, and of her 
 abandonment to his mercy, the poetic stillness and 
 crystal beauty of the winter night, stirred the heart of 
 Waller to a sort of universal compassion, an extrava- 
 gance of tenderness such as he frequently worked 
 himself up into in composition, and which in this 
 moment was startling even to himself in the effect it 
 produced upon him. 
 
 For an instant his resolution was shaken. He looked 
 quickly at her, drew back a step or two, muttering 
 something under his breath she could not catch; and 
 then, as she raised her astonished eyes to his, he 
 broke into a torrent of rapid, incoherent speech from 
 which she could gain little save that he was a man 
 crazed, beside himself with conflicting emotion, and 
 that he was offering her, even yet, the opportunity of 
 retreat. 
 
 She stood staring dumbly at him, her expression 
 wild and strained, her form motionless. Suddenly, 
 
 331
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 without a word she turned and moved quickly away 
 from him down the avenue. 
 
 He remained perfectly still. His face had grown 
 haggard and desperate, the momentary softening of his 
 features yielding to lines of age, and of fretfulness, and 
 of a sort of dogged defiance that gave him the look of 
 an animal at bay. And still the tall figure moved 
 steadily onward, and still he did not stir. 
 
 All at once she turned and began to retrace her 
 steps, walking slowly, humbly, with bowed head, like 
 a queen dethroned. He started violently, awoke from 
 his trance, and a look of cunning overspread his 
 features as of pride in his own mastery. An instant 
 afterward a sense of chivalry replaced the baser feeling, 
 and then the storm of passion shook him, and the old 
 reckless light leaped from his eyes as he rushed to 
 meet her with out-stretched arms. 
 
 With a stifled cry she sank into them, and he strained 
 her to him, smothering, blinding her with hard, fierce 
 kisses. With his arm still about her they moved 
 slowly along the terrace and up the flight of steps. 
 Just before he touched the doorbell, again he bent 
 down his head and kissed her, and a low laugh broke 
 from her and rang out like a chime of silver bells upon 
 the frosty air. 
 
 A moment afterward the door opened to his summons, 
 and together they entered the brightly lighted hall. 
 
 332
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A LETTER 
 
 IT was seven o'clock of an evening five days 
 later. 
 
 A few moments before, Roger had risen after a soli- 
 tary dinner and had wandered into the library. Here 
 a blithesome fire leaped on the hearth, and James had 
 drawn the table up and brought the reading lamp, a 
 great chair being placed with loving care beside it, 
 and in precisely the position that would enable the 
 light to fall most comfortably. Other men might 
 not be heroes to their valets, but to James, Roger was 
 always a prince whom it was a delight to serve. To- 
 night, a particularly inviting meal had been prepared 
 as a solace to loneliness. But the young master had 
 seemed little inclined to enjoy it, and the slim figure 
 had soon risen from the table leaving the food almost 
 untasted. However, if he would not eat, possibly he 
 might read, and James, anticipating the contingency, 
 had been, as usual, well prepared for it, though mar- 
 veling much within himself that there should actually 
 
 333
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 be a person so constituted as to display such benighted 
 preference. 
 
 But Roger was scarcely more in the mood for a 
 mental feast than for a material one. A number of 
 books and magazines, and also several newspapers, 
 lay on the table; and his glance rested upon these 
 last with a vague sense of losing touch with current 
 events, but he forbore to take one up. With a pre- 
 occupation that seemed to render him an instant after- 
 wards wholly oblivious of his surroundings, he had 
 flung himself into the armchair before the fire, and sat 
 leaning on his elbow, thinking hard. 
 
 Marian had completely baffled him. There had 
 come two telegrams, to be sure, but the second was as 
 coolly noncommittal as the first with reference to her 
 return. He had expected her on the Monday previous 
 and had gone twice to the train to meet her. On the 
 day following he had also gone. It was now Thursday 
 and there had come nothing further from her. 
 
 He was as completely in the dark as to her plans 
 as if he were the veriest stranger. By the merest 
 accident he was able to assure himself of the existence 
 of the Minnie Werner her earlier telegram mentioned. 
 He knew her to be an artist friend whom Marian had 
 visited just before coming to the Caldwells a year and 
 a half before, and there was a photograph somewhere 
 in Marian's bed-chamber with the name, M. Werner, 
 
 334
 
 A LETTER 
 
 upon it which he had one day picked up at random 
 during one of their painful conferences, while Marian 
 yawned and trailed her rose-colored negligee about 
 the room in undisguised impatience, and treated him 
 as an intruder. But he had the impression that the 
 girl was herself a stranger in Cincinnati, and practi- , 
 cally unknown. He remembered indistinctly having 
 been told that she had been recently married, and he 
 could only recall her maiden name. He had not the 
 remotest clue with regard to her address. 
 
 The special estrangement of the past few months 
 rendered the situation peculiarly trying. He gazed 
 gloomily into the fire, more disturbed than he had 
 been at any time since his anxiety had been aroused. 
 What possible object she could have in shrouding 
 her movements in mystery he failed to divine. Why 
 had she not frankly told him when she should return ? 
 There had been no mention of the probable length of 
 her visit, nothing to relieve his mind. On the con- 
 trary, the second telegram had been strangely ambigu- 
 ous. There was a hint of finality in it that had startled 
 him when he first read it. It was long, almost a note, 
 and he knew it by heart. But he had tried to quiet 
 the indefinite foreboding that had gripped his heart 
 when it came, and that again was beginning to steal 
 over him. He strove resolutely to combat it now as 
 h sat listening absently to a boisterous wind that 
 
 335
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 beat persistently against the house, and watched the 
 curling lilac flames upon his deserted hearthstone. 
 
 But he was hard pressed with a gnawing pain that 
 would not be ignored. He was distinctly miserable 
 as he grappled with this new evidence of the widening 
 of the breach between them, and conscious of a be- 
 numbing sense of failure. And after a while, in order 
 to force his thoughts into calmer channels, he reached 
 forth a hand to the table and mechanically picked up 
 the first thing it touched upon. 
 
 It chanced to be the January number of the critical 
 journal that Marian had brought home with her from 
 Cincinnati six or seven weeks previous. Afterwards 
 she had subscribed to it, and this copy, the first one 
 he had seen, had just come in. He turned the pages 
 aimlessly, and finally his eye was caught by an article 
 on the poet Henley, and he read a paragraph or two. 
 The writer's style was interesting, and the sketch held 
 him. Presently he came upon these lines quoted in 
 
 illustration : 
 
 " Out of the night that covers me, 
 Black as the pit from pole to pole, 
 I thank whatever gods may be 
 For my unconquerable soul." 
 
 The magazine fell from his grasp, and with a half- 
 uttered exclamation he rose to his feet. His eyes were 
 shining, and his whole being was quiveringly alive to 
 the words that had come upon him as a trumpet call 
 
 336
 
 A LETTER 
 
 suddenly sounded. For a moment he stood staring 
 straight ahead of him, like a soldier facing his com- 
 mander with head erect and muscles tense and wait- 
 ing; and he came to himself with a start when a sound 
 outside forced itself upon his consciousness. 
 
 But the look of exalted feeling, of that profound 
 sense of uplift that sometimes comes to the overbur- 
 dened soul through sources the most unexpected, 
 and to which it lends itself as to angelic ministrations, 
 was still lingering upon his features and in his attitude 
 when he responded to a knock upon the door. 
 
 James entered. He held a letter, and the negro was 
 profuse in apologies. The letter had come at noon, 
 and had been safely laid aside to be delivered as soon 
 as Roger should arrive. But business had detained 
 the young lawyer, and he had had luncheon down 
 town ; and as it had been for James a particularly busy 
 day, he had found the extra tax upon his memory a 
 little too much for him. 
 
 "I dunno huccome me to fergit," he declared in 
 great disturbance, his under jaw lax and his mouth 
 wide open. 
 
 Roger reached out carelessly. "Oh, that is all 
 right, James," he said, kindly, seeing the man's comic 
 but very real distress over his lapse. He had presup- 
 posed the contents, and instantly inferred that it was 
 merely a note of invitation including both Marian and 
 
 337
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 himself, or something equally as unimportant. He was 
 sure that if Marian had written she would have directed 
 her letter to his office, and he should already have 
 received it. 
 
 But the moment he took it into his hand he knew 
 that it was from Marian. It was a lengthy communi- 
 cation, and he checked an involuntary expression of 
 surprise as his rapid glance, sweeping past her bold 
 and dashing chirography, fell upon the postmark: the 
 letter had been mailed in New York. 
 
 James retired and Roger opened the envelope 
 speedily. At the first two sentences his face blanched 
 to a strained, ghastly pallor that slowly faded into 
 a sort of gray, granite-like hue, as if his counte- 
 nance had become gradually petrified. Then an awful 
 crimson mounted to his brow and stayed there. She 
 wrote: 
 
 "I shall go straight to the point in this letter. I 
 wish you to know at once that I have taken myself out 
 of your life and forever. We were mismated. You 
 never loved me, and I always knew why you married 
 me, and that it was for the reason that I made you do 
 it. I made you, or rather, your honor made you; for 
 I could not quite have the consolation of believing that 
 in this supreme act it was your inclination that con- 
 sented as well as your volition. Perhaps wounded 
 vanity may be an explanation to you of something. 
 But it can hardly explain everything, and I am sure 
 
 338
 
 A LETTER 
 
 there is nothing I can say that will make you ever 
 think with anything like extenuation of the thing I 
 have done; you are too stern a moralist. Briefly, I have 
 left you that my life may be spent with some one who 
 loves me and whom I love! 
 
 "I think I can picture to myself your wrath at 
 thought of the man who has thus dared to intrude 
 himself between you and me, and to whom I am now 
 joyfully, and triumphantly turning. Your anger will 
 doubtless be a Kentuckian's anger, and one knows 
 what that usually means. But a Kentuckian prefers, 
 I believe, to kill his adversary in even combat, and I 
 am quite sure that he would not fight you. Not 
 because he isn't brave. He is fearless, but he would 
 find it wholly impossible to understand your point of 
 view. He loves me you do not love me then 
 why any fuss at all? Perhaps we shall both pay the 
 penalty some day. There seems to be a Nemesis for 
 such as we that is unswerving. So be it. Nothing 
 can frighten me. If there were torture awaiting me, 
 and if it were to be greater ten thousand times ten 
 thousand than that any other woman has ever endured, 
 I still should do precisely what I have done. 
 
 "And now before I bring my letter to a close there 
 is one more thing. It concerns the Secret. Ever 
 since I have known you I have lived under an agony 
 of apprehension lest you should discover it. Now it is 
 even a relief to speak of it. It seems to reveal me, 
 after all these months of concealment, as merely the 
 product of my heredity, and to shift the blame from 
 individual responsibility to those ancient forces that 
 
 339
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 have been at work with humanity from the very 
 beginning. I can see your start of horror at what I 
 shall tell you, yet something urges me on. 
 
 " I wish you to know that I am the child of one who, 
 like myself, placed love above law, and in whose veins 
 there flowed wine instead of blood rich red wine 
 that glowed and sparkled, and made the senses reel, 
 as in the days when the world was young and nature 
 was supreme. But to make everything clear to you, 
 it is necessary to go back a little. 
 
 " Generations ago we were respectable, but gradually 
 we drifted downward in the social scale until our 
 position was the humblest. My mother was beautiful. 
 She was the wife of a little Yankee florist who kept a 
 shop on one of the side streets in Richmond. My 
 mother stood behind the counter and sold flowers to 
 any who would buy. Among her customers was a 
 young man, very wealthy, who came every day for 
 a rose to wear in his buttonhole. He was the son of a 
 New England Abolitionist who had drifted down to 
 Virginia at the close of the Civil War, and speedily 
 grown rich on the misfortunes of the impoverished 
 Southerners. The whole family was despised, and for 
 the sake of companionship the young man used to 
 spend hours in the flower store. One day my mother 
 disappeared with him. She was gone for more than 
 a year. Then the florist died. Shortly afterward my 
 mother returned, bought the little shop in which she 
 used to stand, and established herself at the business, 
 this time on a larger scale. She brought back with 
 her a little girl of three months to whom she gave the 
 
 340
 
 A LETTER 
 
 name, which she still retained, of the dead florist, and 
 her own name, Marian. 
 
 "After I was ten years old I was never but once in 
 Virginia. My mother pinched and saved, and sent 
 me off to a good school. It was even possible, later 
 on, to give me a college education. Afterwards her 
 health failed, and I was able by teaching to make 
 a meager support for us both. That one time I was 
 in Richmond I never forgot. I was just eleven. One 
 night a carriage drove up to our doorway, and an 
 elderly woman, very handsomely dressed, with a hard, 
 proud face, got out. She came to my mother to make 
 inquiry of the wealthy New England people who had 
 lived next door to her all the time they were in Rich- 
 mond, and with whom she had had some business 
 dealing. The family had mysteriously disappeared. 
 She made no pretense of sparing the situation; and 
 she evidently supposed me to be too young a child to 
 understand. But I did understand. It was my first 
 acquaintance with the Secret. 
 
 " That is all. I know that it is a great wrong I have 
 done you, and I am sorry for your suffering. But 
 for myself I regret nothing. I wish that I might have 
 spared you everything. But I was your destiny. 
 
 "We shall go abroad, and we shall lose ourselves 
 in such a way that no one shall find us. I do not intend 
 that you shall ever know, and I shall guard his name 
 from discovery as Elaine guarded the sacred shield 
 ofLauncelot. MARIAN." 
 
 The last sheet fluttered from his hand and lay 
 341
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 beside the rest on the rug at his feet, and still that 
 dark, terrible flush remained, and still the expression 
 of his features did not alter. Moments passed. All 
 at once, as if the mighty passion that shook him had 
 destroyed the work of centuries, reducing him from a 
 highly civilized state of being to that of utter bar- 
 barism, a low growl as of an infuriated wild beast 
 broke from him, and he sprang to his feet. For an 
 instant he stood like one confronting a deadly foe 
 whom he was eager to fall upon and throttle, his form 
 quivering in every nerve, his eyes dire and threatening, 
 his face suddenly livid. 
 
 All the deeply implanted love and reverence for the 
 home which is the groundwork of Anglo-Saxon charac- 
 ter, and which, despite the records of their divorce 
 courts, with the Kentuckian still amounts to a passion 
 the most exalted; all the old savage spirit of protection 
 and defense, the primordial instinct of the male, 
 guarding his own and prompting to deeds of violence 
 upon the smallest encroachment of his rights; all the 
 hot, impetuous fury of a people only too prone to take 
 the law into their own hands and to mete out judg- 
 ment swift and terrible to the offender against its 
 fireside peace, trusting to public sentiment and the 
 " unwritten law " for justification all this and more 
 struggled in the blind, animal rage that possessed 
 him. 
 
 342
 
 A LETTER 
 
 * In the first rush of emotion, thought of Marian and 
 of her infidelity seemed held in a sort of stern abeyance 
 to his overwhelming wrath against her unknown para- 
 mour; but presently a sense of the awful wreckage she 
 had wrought in his life bore down full upon him, and 
 with a cry of proud and bitter defiance, a bracing of 
 all his powers, he flung out his arms, and began to 
 stride up and down the room. 
 
 His spirit, already keyed to a high pitch of heroic 
 endurance by the magnificent courage of the lines he 
 had just read when her letter was given to him, was 
 able still to rise unconquered from the blow she had 
 dealt him, through an inherent dogged resistance, a 
 certain toughness of fiber, that forbade him even now 
 to succumb; and above the storm of tumultuous feel- 
 ing that swayed him, once more he felt the thrill of the 
 valiant, and again he heard the trumpet call. 
 
 The magazine lay open at the place, and he snatched 
 it up from the table; and eagerly, hungrily, he read 
 another verse: 
 
 " In the fell clutch of circumstance, 
 I have not winced or cried aloud; 
 Under the bludgeonings of chance, 
 My head is bloody, but unbowed." 
 
 " Thank God ! " he said to himself, hoarsely, between 
 his clenched teeth, "thank God that I too am able 
 to say that thing!" Then he read on, his excitement 
 
 343
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 reaching to the point of frenzy, and his face wild and 
 
 haggard 
 
 " Beyond this place of wrath and tears, 
 Looms but the horror of the shade. 
 And yet the menace of the years 
 Finds, and shall find me, unafraid. 
 
 " It matters not how straight the gate, 
 How charged with punishment the scroll. 
 I am the master of my fate, 
 I am the captain of my soul." 
 
 He had grown suddenly very white, and with a 
 strange, luminous sort of pallor. He was trembling 
 when he closed the magazine and laid it on the table. 
 Perhaps the verses were non-Christian. Perhaps they 
 were even impious in their tone of daring defiance. 
 Perhaps they were nothing of the kind. Whatever 
 they were, and he was too overwrought to think clearly, 
 whatever they might mean, to him in that moment they 
 meant only one thing: a spirit undaunted by terrible 
 mortal trial. And as he lifted his head and looked 
 the situation in the face, squarely, and with a full 
 recognition of all its shame and all its hideousness, 
 there came to him a solemn determination that sought 
 with unclouded faith to invoke to itself the aid of the 
 divine, as inwardly and in a sort of exaltation, he 
 declared she should not, she should not destroy his 
 life! 
 
 He stood a moment, and then once more he began 
 that quick, nervous walk up and down the room, feeling 
 
 344
 
 A LETTER 
 
 himself in his great agony caged within the narrow 
 space like some savage thing entrapped. The desire 
 for the complete aloneness that can come to one only 
 in the midst of a vast solitude, for the feel upon his 
 hot brow of the icy cold of the wintry night, for the 
 revivifying and strengthening of the physical part of 
 him through a resistance of nature's forces, presently 
 drove him to the doorway. But with his hand on the 
 knob he paused abruptly. A new thought had pierced 
 him through and through, and brought him to a stand- 
 still with a sense of shock mightier than anything that 
 had preceded it. 
 
 Until that instant the realization of any consequence 
 to himself, save utter humiliation, in Marian's act had 
 not taken hold of him. But all at once, like the flash 
 of a lantern in the eyes of one groping in the darkness, 
 the flame of a dazzling inquiry swept full into the 
 secret chambers of his soul; and bewildered he put up 
 his hand to his head and drew back, staggering a little 
 and blinded. 
 
 But the light had reached to that furthest penetralia 
 where, unknown even to himself, there had slumbered 
 always through the dark months of his married life a 
 longing perpetual and unquenchable the longing for 
 release. And he knew, with a sharp tightening of the 
 muscles about the heart and a quick reeling of the 
 brain, that he had come face to face with the question 
 
 345
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 which, continually, until he should find its answer, 
 would be before him day and night, maddening him 
 with its sweet promptings, and taking on in its solution 
 the profoundest of ethical meanings the question, 
 Would he, should he, demand his freedom ? 
 
 346
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 IT was a bright though blustering March morning 
 several months later, and Judith Beverley was returning 
 home after an errand that had taken her into a distant 
 part of the town. She was a little cross and decidedly 
 bored in spite of the warm spring sunshine and the 
 pleasing consciousness that her new tailor gown of a clear 
 blue broadcloth fitted her with a trimness that gave 
 something like style to her short, over-plump figure. 
 
 She regarded the morning's work as an entirely 
 useless expenditure of time and energy, and the demand 
 for it as merely one of those vagaries of the maternal 
 brain to which she must yield an enforced obedience. 
 She had been somewhat compensated, however, for 
 the effort. While making her way across one of the 
 crowded thoroughfares she had come upon an old 
 friend who had detailed to her certain choice bits 
 of gossip one in particular which had sent her 
 home eager to be the first to impart the exciting infor- 
 mation. 
 
 347
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 As she reached her own square she stood a moment 
 looking steadily toward the great white house with the 
 green shutters just before her, her expression betraying 
 an interest that was seldom aroused in her in relation 
 to that solitary abode. 
 
 Her keen eyes had caught a glimpse of the symbol 
 of that which dignifies alike the home of a prince or 
 peasant, and reduces all men to the level of a frail 
 humanity the common basis of inevitable unity. 
 About the old-fashioned doorbell which so many times 
 she had stood on tiptoe to reach there hung a wreath 
 of snowy flowers, and from it long streamers of black 
 ribbon fluttered in the moist, spring air. 
 
 From the rear of the building an aged negro with a 
 basket on his arm emerged and came slowly toward her 
 down the little foot-path that wound under the newly 
 budding trees toward the front gate. He hobbled a little 
 as he walked, and his decrepit form, arrayed in a cast- 
 off suit of his dead master's clothes many times too 
 large for him, was so bent and changed and shrunken 
 that Judith did not immediately recognize him. 
 
 "Good morning, Uncle Lish," she said as she drew 
 nearer, "I have been waiting here to speak to you." 
 
 The old negro put down his basket, gave a troubled 
 glance around, and then raised a trembling hand to 
 his head and removed his hat with the grace of the 
 colonel himself. 
 
 348
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 "Well, little mistis," he responded, slowly, "hit may 
 be a good mawnin' to you, but de Lawd knows hit 
 ain't no good mawnin' to me. I is been de cun'l's 
 body-servant ever sence dat thar low lifeted Sam Munday 
 done run off wid ole miss' silver sugar tongs, an' he 
 gold watch an' chain what ole marster done give him 
 on he death baid fifty year ago come next August, an' 
 I is feelin' mighty poo'ly an' down in de mouf." 
 
 "Oh, I know, Uncle Lish!" cried Judith, sympa- 
 thetically, " and I am so sorry for you. I am sure you 
 will miss the colonel terribly; he was always so good 
 to you. But you must cheer up. You know you still 
 have Aunt Daphne." 
 
 " Daphne sho is a mighty good 'ooman, Miss Judy, 
 dat she is, an' I ain' sayin' nuttin' agin' her, caze she 
 kin roast de bes' shote an' make de bes' apple dumplin's 
 I is ever sot down to, but she ain' de cun'l, an' hit ain' 
 no use sayin' she is." 
 
 The old negro reached down somewhere in the 
 depths of his coat pocket and brought forth a huge 
 bandanna handkerchief with which he proceeded to 
 mop his face. 
 
 "Daphne," he continued, "she lak to be waited on 
 moughtly, but she ain' got no beahd to shave, an' no 
 fine clothes to bresh, an' she don' keer nuttin' 'tall 
 'bout mint julep." 
 
 By such incontrovertible arguments Judith was 
 349
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 silenced. " We didn't hear until quite late last evening 
 of the colonel's death," she remarked, presently. " You 
 know papa is away." 
 
 " Yassum yassum, I knowed yo' pa wuz away. 
 De cun'l done ax foh him whin he wuz fust took sick, 
 an' I went arter him. Lawd, Lawd, I is knowed all 
 'long dat dis wuz gwine be a hard winter! I knowed 
 it 'way down yonder last fall whin de big snow come, 
 an' Daphne cooked dat tu'key. Ef hit didn't have de 
 stronges' breas' bone you ever see ! Den I knowed dat 
 all de nuts out in de woods wuz laid by, caze de squir'ls 
 done been moughty peart, and Brer Tompkins what 
 lives out on de old Frankfort pike say de snakes an' de 
 turkles done buhried down twice ez deep, an' de 
 rabbits done got dey extry front teeth, an' de coons got 
 dey tree coats o' hyar." 
 
 " It has been quite a cold winter for this part of the 
 world," said Judith, "but it seems too bad that the 
 colonel should have lived through it and then died 
 just as the spring was coming on." 
 
 Uncle Lish slowly shook his head. "Whin Marse 
 Gabr'el git ready to blow he horn he don' pay no 
 'tention to de time o' yeah, an' de time o' night neider. 
 Yas, Lawd, hit ain' no use a-hangin' back den, an' 
 sayin' what sort o' day you'd ruther go on, caze he 
 ain' gwine stan' no foolin'. Howsomeveh, de cun'l 
 wuz all ready. He had he uniform on, an' at de fust 
 
 350
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 soun' o' de trumpet he r'ared hisse'f back an' he say, 
 'I is gwine to jine de gre't ahmy, Lish, an' I is gwine 
 to meet my Commander face to face.' Gawd, what 
 an ahmy! I seen 'em a-passin' an' a-passin' befo' 
 my eyes twell I thought dey wuz gwine jump clean 
 outen dey sockets. Dey kep' on a-comin' an a-comin', 
 an' dey wuz a-shoutin' an' a-singin' at de ve'y top o' 
 dey lungs, an' dey faces wuz shinin' lak de risin' sun; 
 an' den all on a suddent I see de cun'l, an' he wuz 
 ridin' on he white horse an' smilin' ez I ain' seen him 
 smile sence Gin'ral Lee surrender, an' soon ez I cotched 
 sight o' him I say, 'Gawd! we done druv back de 
 Yankees, an' dey ain' gwine be no mo' fightin' forever 
 an' eveh, Amen ! ' " 
 
 At this solemn outburst Judith stood meditating and 
 amazed. Somehow the colonel had never impressed 
 her as being at all religious, and the spectacle that the 
 old negro described presented him in an altogether 
 new and different light from that in which she was 
 wont to regard him. 
 
 Perhaps something of her surprise showed in her 
 ordinarily impassive countenance, for Uncle Lish 
 said quickly: 
 
 "He ain' nuver been de same sence Miss Sophie 
 died, an' seem lak he grievin' he ve'y heaht out, though 
 he wuz heap too proud to let on much. Howsomeveh, 
 I knowed de Lawd done teched him, an' dat huccome 
 
 351
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 me to say one night right keerless lak, ' Marse Theoph ' 
 (honey, you knows I al'ays calls him Marse Theoph 
 whin dey ain' none o' dem urr niggers 'roun'), ' Marse 
 Theoph,' I say, 'don' you wan' me to tell Mr. Roger 
 you is feelin' poo'ly?' You see I knowed hit would 
 holp him moughtly to see Miss Sophie's boy. Gawd, 
 ef you could seen de way he looked ! I fa'rly trimbled 
 whin he fixed he lightnin' eye on me. 'De scamp!' he 
 say in a voice dat soun' lak thunder; 'don' you dar to 
 bring him heah!' But de nex' mawnin' he say right 
 sof , tu'nin' he eyes away, ' Lish, ef you thinks he would 
 come ' and den he ain' say no mo'." 
 
 Judith had been listening with intensest interest. 
 "You don't mean to tell me that he actually allowed 
 Mr. Roger to come and see him ? " she inquired. " I 
 thought he simply hated him." 
 
 Uncle Lish eyed the girl gravely. "Honey," he 
 said, falteringly, at last, in that pathetic, half-apologetic 
 tone with which the old-time Southern negro always 
 reminds the individual whom he profoundly respects 
 of the supremacy of the Deity, " Honey, whin de good 
 Lawd tek up he abode in de heaht, thar ain' no room 
 lef foh hate. He too big, an' seem lak he fill ever 
 leetle corner lak de sunshine." 
 
 " Did Mr. Roger go to him ? " asked Judith, quickly. 
 
 The old negro was gazing straight up into the 
 heavens, blinking a little in the golden sunlight. Then 
 
 352
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 without lowering his eyes he began to speak in a slow, 
 singsong voice, falling into the weird intoning with 
 which his race are accustomed to chant a requiem over 
 their dead the most mournful sound on earth to 
 all who have ever heard it. 
 
 "De young marster come. He knelt down beside 
 de baid. De cun'l raised he han' an' blessed him. 
 De Lawd look down an' smile. Thar wuz angels 
 eveh' whar at de foot an' at de haid. I hearn 'em 
 singin' all de time. De cun'l hearn 'em too. He say, 
 ' I'm gwine home to glory, an' de Lawd done wash me 
 clean in de blood o' de Lamb.'" 
 
 Judith's face expressed a mingled curiosity and 
 fright. Once in her childhood she had seen Uncle 
 Lish in such a state of exalted religious ecstasy and it 
 had taken no less than three large "crab lanterns," 
 two cakes of maple sugar, and an orange to quiet her. 
 Involuntarily she made a movement of departure. 
 But all at once the old negro brought his gaze back 
 to earth, and his tone was altered completely when 
 he next spoke. So sudden was the transition that 
 Judith almost gasped for breath. 
 
 "Me and Daphne gwine have a new marster now," 
 he said, sadly and quietly, " but bless Gawd hit'll be a 
 good one, an' ef hit ain, de cun'l hisse'f hit's de cun'l's 
 grandson, an' de Lawd knows I is been prayin' day an' 
 night foh Miss Sophie's chile. Yassum," he added, 
 
 353
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 nodding his head solemnly to Judith's mute, astonished 
 stare, " Yassum, de cun'l done lef him eveh'thing 
 all he gold an' silver in de bank, an all he houses an' 
 lan's, an' sheep, an' cattle. Yas, Lawd, de gre't day 
 of peace have come at las', an' dis ole nigger's done 
 lived to see it, thank Gawd, thank Gawd ! " 
 
 Judith had suddenly paled. She slowly turned her 
 face away and for a moment was as silent as if stunned. 
 Then she drew back a little. 
 
 " It is certainly a great day for Mr. Roger," she said, 
 a trifle coldly, " for he will be one of the richest men in 
 Fayette County. Now I must go, Uncle Lish, and 
 thank you for telling me. I am sorry to see that your 
 rheumatism isn't any better." 
 
 The old negro painfully reached down and picked 
 up his basket. As he straightened himself a quaint 
 humor for an instant traced itself upon his wrinkled 
 countenance and quickly vanished, leaving its appeal- 
 ing, humble pathos only more pronounced. 
 
 "Well, little mistis, you ain't no sorrier'n I is," he 
 said, as he hobbled through the gate. 
 
 Judith sped quickly homeward, heedless now of the 
 frolicsome March wind, although it was blowing loose 
 strands of hair across her eyes and robbing her of her 
 customary neat, well-groomed appearance, her sole 
 pretension to good looks. Two scarlet spots flamed 
 in her cheeks and her expression betokened a dull, 
 
 354
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 smoldering resentment. The astounding information 
 concerning Roger's change of fortune only aggravated 
 her feeling of irritation toward him; and though nearly 
 a year and a half had elapsed since his marriage, it 
 had not been long enough to cure her of the wound his 
 indifference had inflicted. The fact that he had always 
 seemed completely to ignore the possibility of a love 
 affair between himself and her had only cut her vanity 
 the more deeply; and the memory of it, the sting of it, 
 had been a sort of poison that had threatened to 
 undermine her whole moral constitution. She saw 
 him now in a new aspect, with the halo about him 
 that wealth to the shallow-hearted ever gives, and 
 her disappointment at the loss of him increased ten- 
 fold. 
 
 On entering her home she heard subdued voices 
 proceeding from the library, and she made her way 
 thither. There was a little low ripple of laughter as 
 she appeared in the doorway, and the next instant Mrs. 
 Caldwell, all smiles and sweetness and effusion, sprang 
 from her chair and rustled forward, her silken skirts 
 making a faint, familiar sound behind her, delicate and 
 persistent as the invariable haunting perfume that per- 
 vaded her garments. There was something so indi- 
 vidual in it, Judith would have recognized it in Europe 
 and with her eyes closed; but for the moment she could 
 scarcely believe her senses. 
 
 355
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " Where on earth did you come from ? " she blurted 
 out, standing stock-still on the threshold. 
 
 "From California," replied Mrs. Caldwell, naively, 
 with a comical elevation of the eyebrows. "Did I 
 startle you? But I am a very substantial-looking 
 ghost. I have gained ten pounds, I grieve to say. 
 Mrs. Beverley, can't you do something for me ? " 
 
 Mrs. Beverley surveyed her guest gravely and criti- 
 cally, and quite as if she were beholding her for the first 
 time. Then all at once something in the little, tight, par- 
 tridge-like form appealed to her sense of humor, and she 
 was off immediately, indulging in one of her prolonged 
 fits of laughter, from which she finally emerged mopping 
 her eyes and elegantly murmuring her apologies. 
 
 " My dear," she exclaimed at last, somewhat ambig- 
 uously, "I have never seen you looking better in my 
 life; the climate of California must have agreed with 
 you." 
 
 " I should think it did," put in Judith, as she plumped 
 herself down into a chair and unbuttoned l;er jacket. 
 " You certainly stayed long enough. When was it you 
 went? Just after Roger Boiling's wedding, wasn't it 
 fifteen months ago?" 
 
 Mrs. CaldwelFs face changed quickly. " Just after- 
 wards. But we came back here for a short time last 
 summer on business. I believe you were away," she 
 said, and let the subject fall. 
 
 356
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 "By the way, have you heard the news?" Judith 
 asked carelessly at length, making her gloves into a 
 little ball and tossing them with her jacket on the 
 table. "There are three quite exciting things." 
 
 Mrs. Beverley glanced toward Mrs. Caldwell, and 
 the latter answered. 
 
 " I have only just returned, Judith," she said. " We 
 came yesterday, and you two are the first persons I 
 have seen. I know of very little that has happened 
 since we went away." 
 
 Judith's expression was stealthy and a trifle sus- 
 picious. 
 
 "Oh, but you must have heard again and again 
 from Roger, so that nothing that greatly concerns him 
 could be unknown to you." 
 
 "I have had only two letters from Roger since we 
 went away," said Mrs. Caldwell, very quietly. "Does 
 your news concern him ? " 
 
 "Slightly," remarked Judith, with her eyes on the 
 ceiling. 
 
 "But I thought you said you had three things to 
 tell, my dear," said Mrs. Beverley, whose curiosity was 
 piqued in spite of herself. 
 
 Judith nodded and laughed tantalizingly. " I surely 
 did," she answered. 
 
 There was silence. Mrs. Caldwell looked at the 
 clock and moved a little uneasily in her chair. But 
 
 357
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Judith, with her gaze still on the ceiling, appeared 
 wholly unconscious of her discomfiture. Presently she 
 turned abruptly to her mother. 
 
 " Did you know that the judge and Sibyl are expected 
 home this evening?" 
 
 Mrs. Beverley looked up surprised. "Judge Fon- 
 taine and Sibyl ? Why, no. I thought they were still 
 in Europe. Who told you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I heard it down town that and something 
 else." 
 
 "I don't see," began Mrs. Caldwell, with a little 
 nervous catch in her voice, "what their arrival has to 
 do with Roger. I thought you said that your news 
 concerned him. I don't see " 
 
 "Don't you?" Judith fixed her gaze coolly upon 
 the face of her questioner and stared until the little 
 woman dropped her eyes. "Don't you? But you 
 know that he was just upon the point of falling in love 
 with Sibyl when he met your Miss Day, and it seems 
 rather thrilling that he should now go to live next door 
 to her since the lovely Marian has fled." 
 
 " Judith, what do you mean ? " cried Mrs. Beverley, 
 severely, " what is all this nonsense you are hinting at ? " 
 
 "Nothing at all," replied Judith, imperturbably, 
 "except that old Colonel Hart got religion at the last 
 and left his entire estate to Roger." 
 
 "Oh!" cried the two women, simultaneously, and 
 358
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 then stared each other wonderingly in the eyes. 
 Each was busy with her own thoughts, and a strange 
 stillness reigned. Presently Mrs. Beverley turned 
 and looked at Judith. There was in her face a curi- 
 ous commingling of emotions, a broad generosity of 
 feeling that could completely forget self in her pleasure 
 in the good fortune of another; yet encroaching upon 
 it, though never threatening to overthrow it, there 
 was something else, the maternal, the personal, in- 
 tensely strong with her, if not too strong to outweigh 
 justice. A marriage between Judith and Roger 
 Boiling would have been at any time most agreeable 
 to her. His own intrinsic qualities and high social 
 position were things that she was able fully to appre- 
 ciate; and the vulgar exaltation of money was an 
 abasement that she had been safely rescued from, 
 just as it was also something from which the doc- 
 tor was equally removed. But if wealth could give 
 little in their estimation to the inherently sordid- 
 minded, the plebeian of soul as well as of outward 
 station, it was able to add a very gracious charm to the 
 true patrician of birth and heart; and as she studied her 
 most unsatisfactory offspring there sprang up within 
 Mrs. Beverley a very human regret which most mothers 
 would not have found it difficult to understand. 
 
 "And the other thing, my dear, that you had to tell 
 us ? " she inquired, suavely. 
 
 359
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Judith broke into a harsh, unfeeling laughter, and 
 turned her head provokingly to one side, while she 
 surveyed the two askance. 
 
 "How lamentable that there should be anything 
 more!" she exclaimed, shortly. "If only the curtain 
 might drop upon Roger and his princely inheritance 
 without reference to anything else. But unfortunately 
 there is too much reference just now to something 
 else." 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell looked up quickly. " Please explain," 
 she said, in a trembling voice. "Tim and I are his 
 best friends here, but we neither of us know anything 
 definitely, only that something is terribly, pitifully 
 wrong." 
 
 Judith gave her a brief, sidelong glance in which 
 there was a hint of malice deliberately unconcealed. 
 Mrs. Caldwell's apparent part in the destiny of the 
 man she had longed for, though it had in no way 
 altered conditions with regard to herself, was some- 
 thing that had always filled her with an unreasoning 
 resentment, and her revenge had found secret satis- 
 faction in the sort of torture that may be inflicted by 
 a needless withholding and delay. However, she 
 was beginning to be bored, and she was reminded that 
 it was nearly luncheon time by the striking of the 
 clock on the mantel. 
 
 She coughed exasperatingly, stretched out her feet 
 360
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 toward the fender and regarded the tips of her shoes 
 for an instant. Then all at once she leaned forward, 
 and in a stage whisper loud enough to be heard through- 
 out the room she poured her information into the little 
 woman's ear. 
 
 361
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 IN WHICH ROGER COMES INTO HIS OWN 
 
 THREE weeks later Roger took up his abode in the 
 great lonely house that had been his grandfather's, 
 the colonel having laid special emphasis upon the 
 wish that the change of residence be as soon as possible 
 effected. Upon this point he had even shown a return 
 to his customary spirit of peremptory command, and 
 Roger had finally given way, though not, however, 
 without a reluctance that he did not try to explain. 
 The old gentleman's extraordinary alteration of atti- 
 tude, which had come about through the sure work- 
 ings of sorrow, the very real grief he had suffered in 
 the death of Mrs. Boiling, and in his repentance for 
 hardness toward her, had been in truth rendered far 
 less difficult of attainment by the secret satisfaction 
 that he had long cherished with regard to his grandson. 
 From all sides praise of the young man had been 
 wafted to him; and on the rare evenings when, despite 
 his increasing infirmities, his house had been opened 
 to certain favorite cronies, bidden to a game of whist 
 
 362
 
 ROGER COMES INTO HIS OWN 
 
 enlivened by a hot supper served with old Madeira 
 or choicest port, it not unfrequently happened that 
 one of the number would casually let fall a reference 
 to a member of the Lexington bar that set the aged 
 pulses a-tingling, and made him eager for the recon- 
 ciliation that had finally been accomplished. 
 
 It was a moist April evening when Roger dined for 
 the first time in his new home. James who had been 
 still retained, although eyed by Uncle Lish askance, 
 had been sent ahead to see that all was in readiness, 
 and had been duly snubbed by the ancient retainers of 
 the house into such a state of humility that Roger, 
 when he finally arrived, was met by a countenance so 
 subdued and woebegone that he involuntarily broke 
 into laughter at sight of it. An instant afterward, 
 however, the pale face of the young man had grown 
 a shade paler, and with a gesture of weariness he hung 
 his hat on the old elk rack and strode with echoing 
 footsteps down the long hall, and then on into the room 
 adjoining what his grandfather had called the office. 
 
 After he had dined he made a futile effort to interest 
 himself in a book that he took at random from the 
 shelves on returning to the library. But to-night he 
 could not read, and by and by when the house grew 
 still he rose and wandered from room to room, turning 
 on the electric lights, and then looking about him like 
 a lost spirit vainly seeking he knew not what. The 
 
 363
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 old Hart portraits, those of persons of the name or 
 of the blood, were everywhere, for the colonel had been 
 able to obtain, as supplementary to those he had 
 inherited, many that came into his hands through the 
 impoverishment of their original owners. 
 
 As he flung himself into a chair he found himself 
 thinking grimly of the manner with which all who 
 had gone before him would have met the tragedy of 
 his life. 
 
 There would have been but one way, he knew: 
 death to the man who had dared the wrong and divorce- 
 ment to the woman. And yet, torn with passions no 
 less terrible than would have been theirs, feeling that 
 same fierce love for the home and protection of it 
 which was always profoundly dominant with the 
 people of his race, and which with the Kentuckian 
 often breaks forth into a sort of blind, animal rage 
 resulting in bloodshed when once a sin against the 
 family has been committed, he had acted as not one 
 of his forefathers would have acted, he felt sure. The 
 temptation to stifle the promptings of the larger view, 
 of which they would have known nothing, had driven 
 him at first almost to madness. For weeks he had 
 grappled with it, longing to free himself from the bond 
 which the law of God and man seemed to allow him 
 in good conscience to dissolve, all the time knowing 
 that his choice was already made through that sense 
 
 364
 
 ROGER COMES INTO HIS OWN 
 
 of sacred obligation toward one's fellows which his 
 age was the first practically to apprehend, and which 
 in the end would compel him to wave an individual 
 right for the sake of a far-reaching gain. 
 
 For individualism had passed into altruism. He had 
 at last arrived at a strong intellectual conception that 
 marked a prodigious advance in his own personal 
 development. And it had given him a deeper rever- 
 ence for law, from which springs the soundness and 
 the purity of national life, a clearer comprehension of 
 the value of the individual, from which springs a 
 recognition of the dignity and worth of human life. 
 
 From a legal as well as a social point of view the 
 young lawyer had studied the situation growing out 
 of a lack of uniformity in the statutes concerning 
 marriage and divorce existing in the various common- 
 wealths of the Union. He had carefully weighed the 
 oft-debated question of Constitutional amendment and 
 subsequent legislation by Congress whereby the Federal 
 courts should be solely invested with the power to 
 grant divorce, as opposed to the idea of the states' 
 rights to legislate for themselves ; and he knew, through 
 a thoughtful consideration of the figures obtainable, 
 that the number of divorces granted in the United 
 States annually so far exceeded the number granted 
 in other countries as to bring before the mind a propor- 
 tion appallingly serious, thus making plain a condition 
 
 365
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 of things inherently alarming, and which, if unchecked, 
 tended to the overthrow of the very foundation stones 
 of the nation's greatness. 
 
 These things he knew; and yet All at once he 
 rose and began to move up and down the room, his 
 hands tightly clenched, his face set. For once more 
 the battle, hotter, fiercer, more blinding than ever 
 before, was upon him, and to-night, as he seemed to 
 stand on the threshold of a new existence that offered 
 to him such unlimited possibilities, tender as well as 
 glorious, he wanted, he wanted his freedom ! How he 
 longed for it! 
 
 Every nerve and fiber in him was crying out for 
 release. Passions strong and elemental were clamor- 
 ing and refusing to be silenced. The blood of an 
 untrammelled race was stirring in him and rousing 
 him to revolt. Sacrifice ? It was noble, it was godlike, 
 yes but oh, the wild joy of beginning life over again, 
 of feeling the cool, invigorating breeze of the dawn of 
 another and more splendid day of promise that was to 
 usher in the full play of all his manly powers! How 
 could he close his eyes to the sights they saw, his ears 
 to the sounds they heard, how stifle his whole being 
 quivering and throbbing at the bare thought of renewal ? 
 
 For more than an hour he walked there, caged, 
 miserable, rebellious ; but after a time a great weariness 
 began to steal over him, and as usual in such moments 
 
 366
 
 ROGER COMES INTO HIS OWN 
 
 the longing came to him overwhelmingly for his mother, 
 that he might fling himself down as in childhood at 
 her feet and pour out his griefs to her, while every bit 
 of him sobbed for something. He gave a wondering 
 look about him, as if appalled by his own desolateness. 
 
 It was late, and the old house was very still, brooding 
 in solemn quietude over the memories it held. Sud- 
 denly, as if possessed of an uncontrollable desire for 
 human contact, for anything that should break the 
 spell of the despair that was upon him, Roger crossed 
 the room and drew back the window curtain. The 
 act revealed a familiar scene. 
 
 His neighbor's house was still lighted, and Judge 
 Fontaine, sitting in his customary high-backed chair, 
 was beside his library table busily writing, the light 
 from a student's lamp falling softly on his silvery hair 
 and patrician features. In the room above a single 
 taper burned dimly. 
 
 All the curtains in the judge's library were drawn, 
 but at one window they had been pulled carelessly, 
 leaving a space large enough to reveal a portion of the 
 room; and before this small interstice Roger stood 
 gazing like a man starving in sight of bread, yet pow- 
 erless to reach forth a hand to take it. By a strong 
 effort of will he kept his eyes resolutely upon a level 
 with the room opposite, not once, after that first glance, 
 lifting them to the room above. 
 
 367
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 A voice seemed sounding in his ears : " Be pleased 
 with little things, such as the flourishing of a tree or a 
 plant, or a bed of flowers, and fret not at disappoint- 
 ments." They were the words out of an old letter, 
 from one of his ancestors that the judge had once 
 quoted; and again they were speaking their message 
 of peace through patience, the profoundest of all 
 philosophy. For a moment Roger stood as one trans- 
 fixed, hearing the voice almost as an actuality. A 
 change came over his features; the desperation, the 
 recklessness, the agitation fled, and in their place there 
 was the quiet of resignation, the brave front which, 
 until to-night, he had worn through many long days. 
 
 He drew back a step or two from the window, but 
 the hand that still held the curtain trembled a little 
 and quickly tightened its hold. Then slowly, rever- 
 ently, he came nearer again, and as one lifts his eyes 
 to a star, his gaze traveled to the taper in the room 
 above. An instant afterward the curtain fell from his 
 grasp, and he turned away. 
 
 368
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 SIBYL 
 
 THE April sunlight was shining in at the window 
 when he woke the next morning and looked about 
 him with that peculiar, half-painful sensation of be- 
 wilderment that one feels on first opening his eyes 
 after a night's sleep in unfamiliar surroundings. As 
 he surveyed the wide bed-chamber with its stately 
 and somewhat dreary furnishings, its absence of the 
 individual note which James had evidently made 
 frantic but futile efforts to atone for by an ostentatious 
 display of Roger's personal belongings scattered here 
 and there, his first thought had been one of regret for 
 the cheerier apartment but lately abandoned. 
 
 As he went down the stairs the chill and gloom of 
 the long halls were vault-like to his senses, and he 
 hurried out into the sunlight, pausing to give a hint 
 to Aunt Daphne in the kitchen as he passed on his 
 way into the garden, with the hope that thus encour- 
 aged his breakfast would be the sooner in forthcoming. 
 But it was presumption born of inexperience, as he
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 soon discovered. Aunt Daphne was not a person to 
 be urged to precipitation in the performance of those 
 culinary tasks which with her reached almost to the 
 dignity of a religious ceremonial. Moreover, it was 
 to be her first breakfast for the young master, and she 
 intended it to be a good one. 
 
 "Bless Gawd!" he heard her muttering as she 
 moved about the kitchen, between low chuckles of 
 laughter, her cracked old voice floating out to him 
 through the open window, "Bless Gawd, ef thar ain' 
 Miss Sophie's chile talkin' 'bout breakfast, an' I ain' 
 nuver even teched de feathers on dem birds!" 
 
 Seeing that there was little likelihood of accelerating 
 matters, Roger good-humoredly, with his hands in 
 his pockets and whistling carelessly to himself, went 
 down the rear steps of the building and on into the 
 sunny space beyond. 
 
 At first sight of him, mistaking him doubtless for 
 Uncle Lish with their breakfast, the dogs made a 
 bound forward and came tearing across the yard at 
 full speed, drawing back a little and eyeing him sus- 
 piciously, however, as soon as they discovered him. 
 But he called them to him, and bent down and patted 
 them, and they were quickly won, falling upon him 
 with a gusto which, though flattering, was also slightly 
 uncomfortable, especially when they all made a rush 
 at him at once. 
 
 370
 
 SIBYL 
 
 "See here, you fellows, five against one, it's hardly 
 fair, you know!" cried Roger, with a laugh, struggling 
 to his feet, and almost stumbling over a little three- 
 weeks-old white and tan puppy that, hearing the great 
 commotion, had come toddling after the rest. 
 
 As he pushed them off, all at once he was conscious 
 of a voice near by a woman's voice, low and sweet, 
 and singing in the tender, disjointed, half-confidential 
 fashion, as if to an unseen presence, that is peculiarly 
 feminine and which women sometimes fall into when 
 bending over their sewing or when tucking sleepy 
 little forms into bed. Now and then it broke off 
 entirely and seemed to be borne away on the cool 
 morning breeze like a thing too fine and beautiful to 
 linger; but a moment after it would begin again, and 
 come floating toward him, though always from a dif- 
 ferent quarter. 
 
 With a sudden tightening of the muscles about the 
 mouth, Roger straightened himself and looked toward 
 his neighbor's garden. There was a tall osage orange 
 hedge between the two places where the respective 
 plots began to slope away from the buildings, and in 
 the center of the hedge there was a little arched gate- 
 way which the colonel had had made for the con- 
 venience of Judge Fontaine and Sibyl when they should 
 desire to visit informally their old friend. 
 
 Until that instant Roger had not observed the tiny 
 371
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 gateway, and he stood looking toward it with an ex- 
 pression dazed and vaguely troubled, as once more 
 the song traveled to him as from some one bending 
 over a near-by bed of flowers. 
 
 He was turning away when suddenly the arch framed 
 a picture, and Sibyl stood before him, while the same 
 caressing voice asked cheerfully: 
 
 " Uncle Lish, is Shot any better this morning ? " 
 
 She wore a white pique gown and lawn waist, and 
 she carried in her hand a huge nosegay of hyacinths 
 and daffodils which she was intent upon rearrang- 
 ing. 
 
 " I thought I heard him whining a little," she added, 
 absently, with her gaze on her flowers, "when I first 
 came out." 
 
 Roger stared dumbly, rendered speechless equally 
 by her unexpected presence and the great change 
 that he beheld in her, the wondrous blossoming whereby 
 the depth and sweetness of her womanhood stood 
 revealed. She seemed years older than when he last 
 saw her, and far more beautiful. The soft rounding 
 that time had given to her girlish contours; the more 
 wistful seriousness in the violet eyes at war with the 
 piquant archness of the warm red mouth; the glimmer 
 of the sunlight on her blue-black hair, and the healthful 
 whiteness of her skin, all flashed upon him in an in- 
 stant, and he dropped his eyes and then looked quickly 
 
 372
 
 SIBYL 
 
 away, abashed and undecided, a painful self-con- 
 sciousness making him powerless to utter a word. 
 
 She was still intent on the flowers, and unobservant, 
 and as she twisted and turned them to her liking several 
 hyacinths fell from her hands to the ground, thus 
 distracting her attention from her inquiry. 
 
 He sprang quickly forward to restore them, and 
 something in the alertness of the movement, in strange 
 contrast with what she had expected from Uncle Lish's 
 stiffened joints, caused her to look up wonderingly. 
 
 She drew back with a little cry of amazement and 
 confusion. Then speedily collecting herself she held 
 out her hand, smiling softly. There was a large 
 sympathy in her complete ignoring; and in her straight- 
 forward earnestness and self-forgetfulness there was 
 something so broad and sweet and kindly that it 
 seemed to lift her immediately out of all relation to 
 age or sex. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, " is it you really you ? 
 But I thought you were not to come for days and 
 days." 
 
 "I came last night," said Roger, not meeting her 
 eyes. He took the hand she gave him, but released it 
 instantly, a sudden stiffening coming into his manner. 
 
 But she did not seem to notice. She was trembling 
 a little still from the surprise he had given her, and a 
 soft pink like the inner lining of a sea-shell lingered 
 
 373
 
 in her cheeks ; but her gaze was as fearless and direct 
 as a little child's. It was evident that she meant at 
 once to establish a basis between them that would 
 relieve him of all constraint, and that the best way 
 toward the accomplishment of this seemed to her to 
 lead through a tactful avoidance. She would have 
 liked to make some simple reference to the changes, 
 but as the circumstances precluded, it appeared the 
 better course to spare everything. 
 
 " Last night ? " she echoed. " I am so sorry that we 
 didn't know. Father would surely have gone over to 
 welcome you as a neighbor, and I shall dread to tell 
 him that you spent your first evening in such lonely 
 fashion. He is very eager for a long talk with you." 
 
 Roger was silent a moment. In the honeysuckle 
 vines near by a red bird was saying a prolonged good-by 
 to his mate, breaking forth all at once into such a 
 flood of broken-hearted and impetuous melody that 
 they both involuntarily looked up to listen. 
 
 " The judge has been always most kind to me," said 
 Roger, at length, with his eyes still on the ground. 
 He had grown very pale, and the distance that he 
 seemed to be trying to keep up between them was 
 accentuated by the dulness of the tone hi which he 
 spoke. But Sibyl gave no heed. 
 
 "Oh, but he is so fond of you," she responded, 
 simply; " he quite regards you as one of his best friends 
 
 374
 
 SIBYL 
 
 \ 
 
 the very best, and he has already been three times 
 to see you, twice to your office, and once to your home. 
 Each time he missed you, and came back looking so 
 dejected that I had to beg him to read me four long 
 chapters of the history, just to divert him. I know 
 them almost by heart, for he always reads everything 
 to me over and over, but it seemed to help him won- 
 derfully, although I could not flatter myself that I 
 was half so satisfactory a listener as you would have 
 been." 
 
 "How is the history coming on?" asked Roger, 
 quickly, grasping at a change of subject and smiling, 
 compelled to a momentary self-forgetfulness by the 
 picture that she drew. One of the sweetest things 
 about her had seemed to him the naive way with which 
 she threw herself into the judge's historical and 
 genealogical research. 
 
 " The history ? " she cried, gaily. " It is coming on 
 finely. He has almost finished the period relating to 
 the pioneers, and is about to enter upon the struggle 
 for independence from Virginia. It is going to be a 
 terrible time, and I shall have many heartaches for 
 those poor dead Kentuckians of the long ago, who had 
 to wait so many years before they could become a 
 state. He did much of his best work while we were 
 in Rome ; and while I was dreaming of the ancients, he 
 was dreaming of Kentucky. He worked everywhere 
 
 375
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 we went, and I am sure he didn't see anything half 
 so entertaining to him as the first glimpse he had of 
 his beloved bluegrass from the car window." 
 
 Roger looked up quickly. " And you were you 
 sorry to come back?" 
 
 She hesitated. " A little just a little," she an- 
 swered, and for the first time there was a slight betrayal 
 of constraint. 
 
 She turned away and her gaze wandered to the great 
 white house beyond. "We would have come back 
 sooner," she said, presently, very softly, "if we had 
 known of the colonel's illness. He never mentioned it, 
 though he wrote constantly. Father and I both loved 
 him dearly. How we shall miss him!" 
 
 A mist had gathered in her eyes, and she went on 
 quickly. " He was so alive, such a distinct personality, 
 that I had never realized that he actually could die; 
 and though he was so old I seemed to think I should 
 have him always. Everything here is associated with 
 him; that is his chair up on that porch, here is his 
 bench under this tree, and I can almost see the tall 
 form over there by the kennels swearing at the dogs 
 for being too audaciously frolicsome. You know 
 and all at once, by one of those swift transitions that 
 sometimes swept over her, her whole face twinkling 
 with archness " you know he just couldn't help 
 swearing once in a while, the poor old dear ! " 
 
 376
 
 SIBYL 
 
 Roger threw back his head and something like the 
 boyish laughter of other days broke from him. 
 
 "He surely couldn't," he replied, grimly. 
 
 " But it was such an aristocratic, picturesque sort of 
 swearing," returned Sibyl, still bubbling over with 
 amusement, " and I am sure he didn't mean the least 
 little bit of harm by it." 
 
 Upon this point Roger was not quite so decided, 
 but he said nothing, and all at once Sibyl caught her- 
 self up. "I really must go," she said, "and I hope 
 I haven't kept you from your breakfast. Lawyers 
 have to have early breakfasts, don't they, when court 
 is going on ? " 
 
 "They do, but they don't always get it," replied 
 Roger, ruefully, with a glance in the direction of 
 Aunt Daphne's domains. 
 
 "But you know the colonel never had breakfast 
 until nearly ten." 
 
 "Good gracious! You don't think she is pre- 
 meditating anything like that against me, do you ? " 
 
 Sibyl shook her head. "I shouldn't wonder." 
 
 "But it is absolutely imperative that I should be 
 in the court room bycine o'clock," said Roger, genu- 
 inely alarmed. 
 
 "You are ' jes 1 'bleeged' to be there, as Uncle Lish 
 would say, aren't you ? " commented Sibyl, giving 
 him little comfort by her cheerful acquiescence. Her 
 
 377
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 blue eyes were quite grave, but the corners of her 
 mouth were twitching suspiciously. 
 
 "I never dreamed that James would't be able to 
 make her understand," said Roger, still serious, and 
 seeing no joke at all in a situation that threatened dire 
 things to his client. "Tell me," with a nod that was 
 intended to indicate the presiding genius of his kitchen, 
 "is she really a very terrible sort of person? I am 
 horribly afraid of her." 
 
 "You'd better be. Don't you know that she has 
 always ruled this house with a rod of iron ? " 
 
 Roger looked completely crushed. 
 
 "Then there is just no help at all for me," he an- 
 swered, dolefully, recalling the methods of the high- 
 handed old gentleman who had preceded him, and 
 who, if unable to cope with such oppression, surely 
 left little grounds for confidence in the breast of less 
 daring mortals. 
 
 "Oh, yes, there is," cried Sibyl, charmingly, 
 "you can come over and have breakfast with father 
 and me. Ours is just ready now. Since we have 
 been writing the history we rival the lark as early 
 risers." 
 
 His face changed quickly. He started and stiffened 
 again instantly, growing painfully self-conscious, while 
 a hot flush mounted to his forehead and then slowly 
 receded, leaving him very pale and stilL Through 
 
 378
 
 SIBYL 
 
 her determined friendly ease and freedom from em- 
 barrassment he had unconsciously accepted the atti- 
 tude which from the first she had maintained that 
 of one human being toward another human being 
 brought within each other's radius solely by the claims 
 of neighborliness and of a mutual kindly feeling. 
 And with an exquisite tact that seemed to lead him as 
 gently over the rough places of memory that kept pro- 
 truding as a mother might lead a troubled child along 
 a rugged pathway, she had accomplished it; so that by 
 her naturalness and straightforward sincerity she had 
 for the moment lulled him into a sort of forgetfulness 
 of his past. 
 
 "Won't you come?" she insisted, smiling. "We 
 are to have waffles and maple syrup. You like waffles 
 and maple syrup, don't you?" 
 
 " Immensely." 
 
 " Then you will accept ? " 
 
 "I am afraid I cannot," he answered, gravely. 
 
 "Remember your poor trusting client!" 
 
 "I do remember," he said. 
 
 "And be not scornful of the despotism of Aunt 
 Daphne. Your breakfast has not even begun to be 
 cooked yet, I am perfectly certain." 
 
 "I am afraid you are only too correct about it," 
 replied Roger, with a despairing glance kitchen- 
 ward, 
 
 379
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "Then do be warned and come with us. It will be 
 far safer." 
 
 He met her eyes for the briefest possible space. 
 Then he quickly looked away, and with an expression 
 whose somber humorousness was but an outward 
 cloak for an inward rebellion, his gaze wandered once 
 more in the direction of the buxom sable figure pass- 
 ing to and fro in front of one of the rear windows. He 
 broke into a short, discordant laugh. 
 
 "It will be far safer not to," he said, abruptly. 
 
 380
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 IT was in the twilight of an afternoon a few days 
 later, as Roger was returning home from his office, 
 that the two men came upon each other, apparently 
 by accident, but in reality through deep design on the 
 part of the judge. 
 
 " Well met, my boy ! " he exclaimed, heartily, as he 
 suddenly emerged from a drugstore on a corner that 
 Roger would most likely pass, and bustled up, well- 
 groomed, elegant, and fresh-faced as a boy, holding 
 out a slim, graceful hand that grasped the one out- 
 stretched to it with a cordiality that was not to be 
 gainsaid. "How does the world go with you?" he 
 began at once, and then before Roger could reply, he 
 hurried on, "I hear that you won your great case. 
 Caldwell has told me. It was a magnificent triumph, 
 sir a magnificent trumph, but no more than was 
 to be expected from the descendant of your distin- 
 guished sires. I should like much to talk over cer- 
 tain points in relation to it. Bless me, when I see 
 
 381
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 you young fellows in the thick of it I am sorely tempted 
 to go back and have a fling at you." 
 
 " I wish you would, sir," responded Roger, gallantly, 
 " it doesn't do a fellow any harm to get knocked down 
 once in a while, and I've no doubt that you'd teach the 
 last one of us a thing or two, the oldest and the wisest." 
 
 " I confess," said the judge, confidentially, and in his 
 prim but stately fashion, " that the courtroom still has 
 strong attractions for me that at times I find it hard 
 to resist, but I should dislike to have Sibyl know that 
 I ever waver in my allegiance to the history. She was 
 convinced that my health was suffering under the 
 strain of a somewhat arduous practice that soon came 
 to me after my retirement from the bench, and it was 
 through her persuasions, as you may know, that I 
 abandoned the law. However, it was only after she 
 had discovered that I was sitting up more than half 
 the night and rising at daybreak to add a little to that 
 sum of knowledge in the way of historical investigation 
 which from a boy I have been accumulating, that she 
 pronounced the verdict." 
 
 " It was a wise decision, judge," said Roger, as they 
 walked on, with the modest though firm conviction 
 that always ingratiated him strongly in the favor of 
 older men. " You would find the bar greatly changed 
 since your day, and you would be haunted by the old 
 memories continually." 
 
 382
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 The judge's face grew softly sad. "Ah, the memo- 
 ries the memories ! " he murmured. " How they 
 come flocking into the mind, fair and spotless like a 
 flight of white-winged birds following hard upon one 
 another at mention of the most trivial thing in 
 relation to the past. Time is the greatest of all artists, 
 and the picture that he paints for us is one that only 
 grows softer and more beautiful as the years go by. 
 How he tones down life's uglinesses and exalts the 
 human stature! All large men are giants when seen 
 through memory's mist; and there were few pygmies 
 among those with whom I used to practice. Why, my 
 dear boy," he cried, waxing more animated as his 
 thoughts continued to travel backward, "I could tell 
 you stories of the old Lexington bar of Johnson, and 
 Huston, and Buckner, and the two Kinkeads, and 
 Hunt, and Harrison, and Beck, and Breckinridge 
 of their wit, and eloquence, and learning, that would 
 keep you awake till cock-crow." 
 
 *' I should surely delight to hear them," said Roger, 
 cordially, but at the same time making a movement of 
 turning in at his own home, which they had just 
 reached, and lifting his hat in token of departure. 
 
 But the judge laid violent hands upon him. Antici- 
 pating the intention of the young man, he took a quick 
 step forward and with a countenance that was not to 
 be moved by either argument or entreaty, calmly 
 
 383
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 interposed his slender person between Roger and the 
 gateway, nearly upsetting his top hat in his vehemence, 
 and letting his cane fall. 
 
 " Not a bit of it, sir not a bit of it ! " he cried, with 
 sudden energy. " You are to dine with us this evening, 
 and you need offer no objection. I was expecting a 
 friend from Louisville who has disappointed me, and 
 there is a special feast prepared. You must share it. 
 Sibyl will have out her prettiest old silver candelabra, 
 and you will dine by the light of wax candles upon 
 strawberries served in cut-glass that was once the 
 pride of her great-great-grandmother." 
 
 Roger reached for the fallen cane and, having re- 
 stored it, was beginning, " The prospect is most alluring, 
 judge, but " when the judge interrupted shortly. 
 
 "Tut, tut!" he exclaimed, with something very like 
 a show of real indignation in his voice. " Do you think 
 I am going to allow my will to be thwarted by a young- 
 ster like you ? I don't propose to let you live the life 
 of a hermit, sir, and you may as well resign yourself 
 at once. Your grandfather in his younger days was 
 one of the most genial of diners-out that I can remember. 
 He had a very remarkable fund of anecdote and, 
 though he was peevish upon some points and liable to 
 flare up on occasion, he was always the most acceptable 
 of guests. Well do I recall the time that the president 
 of Princeton University Princeton College it was 
 
 384
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 then was in our midst, and a great dinner was given 
 in his honor. Your grandfather was the life of the 
 occasion, and the president remarked after returning 
 to the East that, though he had traveled far and made 
 the acquaintance of men of high station in all quarters 
 of the globe, he had met in his experience with no 
 more princely representative of the gentleman of the 
 old school than Colonel Theophilus Hart." 
 
 At this flood of reminiscence Roger stood helpless 
 and confused, longing to make his escape from what 
 only too plainly portended, yet dreading to offend. 
 
 "I am sure," continued the judge, in his most 
 Johnsonian English, and with a note of finality in the 
 words that seemed to imply that the discussion was 
 ended, " that you will accede to my wishes when I tell 
 you that I greatly desire your comment in relation to 
 certain chapters of the history recently written." 
 
 " I shall be pleased to hear them," replied Roger, 
 meekly, realizing that the game was up. 
 
 "Then we will hurry on," said the judge, grasping 
 Roger's arm the more firmly. 
 
 The amusement which all along had been vying 
 with a more serious emotion all at once came to the 
 surface, and Roger, feeling the clutch of the judge's 
 hand on his arm tightening as if it held something 
 uncertain and fluttering, liable at any moment to take 
 flight, threw back his head and laughed aloud, his 
 
 385
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 voice dying down into something of the same mocking 
 bitterness that Sibyl had heard in it when she proffered 
 her invitation. An instant afterward he was quite 
 grave again as he paused. 
 
 " I will come with pleasure, judge," he responded, as 
 graciously as he knew how, adding, "but you must 
 let me go in and put on my dinner coat." 
 
 The judge's little trot came to a halt. "Your 
 dinner coat ? " he inquired, most seriously, but with a 
 slight twitching of the muscles about the mouth that 
 brought Sibyl strangely to mind. " Well, I suppose," 
 taking out his watch and regarding it critically, " I 
 suppose I shall have to grant a humble request like 
 that since it seems to be reasonable. It is now a 
 quarter-past six. We dine at seven. I give you half 
 an hour. But mind you " and the judge's counte- 
 nance was ferocious again though his eyes twinkled, 
 " if I don't hear your steps at my front door at the end 
 of it, I will send a special delegation after you, com- 
 manded to fetch you, though you should be in your 
 shirt tail!" 
 
 It was dark as Roger went up the steps of the judge's 
 mansion, and he had been surprised to see that the 
 lights in the street and from the houses on either side 
 shone upon a thin fall of snow that lay upon the 
 young bluegrass and all the tender green of the newly 
 
 386
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 resplendent earth like a bridal veil encircling a nereid's 
 verdant hair. Since two o'clock the mercury had 
 dropped twenty degrees, threatening a melancholy 
 blight to the fruit trees now in full bloom and to the 
 wheat fields. The flurry of snow and wind that had 
 taken place while he was dressing had nearly sub- 
 sided, and the night was likely to be clear and cold. 
 
 He was ushered into the library where a wood fire 
 burned upon the hearth, and where the judge sat 
 anxiously awaiting him, the evening paper spread out 
 on his knee. But he had evidently not been reading 
 it, the events of the present, however stirring, having 
 only a mild interest for him in comparison with those 
 of the past. 
 
 " Ah ! " he cried, smiling, the flash of his white, even 
 teeth giving a sudden brilliancy to his face as its 
 thoughtfulness relaxed, " I am glad that I did not have 
 to put my threat into execution; and it is always a 
 wise man that submits gracefully to the inevitable. 
 Have this chair, my boy, the night is cold." 
 
 "It is most unfortunately so," said Roger, senten- 
 tiously, as. he took the proffered seat near the fire. 
 
 The judge's face at once grew serious. "Yes, the 
 fruit will surely be killed," he remarked, "and I am 
 afraid that many of the crops will suffer. Some of 
 them are already far advanced, I am told." 
 
 The knob of the door turned softly and Sibyl entered 
 387
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 in her creamy silk gown all that was to be seen of 
 her, that is, for she was almost hidden behind a great 
 armful of pink and white blossoms out of which her 
 fresh face peeped like the incarnation of the spring- 
 time. 
 
 She stood a moment glancing from her father to his 
 guest, giving to Roger a friendly nod that seemed to 
 accept his presence as quite the most natural of occur- 
 rences, and that graciously extended her hospitality 
 without rendering it at all pronounced; and then, 
 with a little sorrowful shaking of the head and a soft 
 sighing, she bent her cheek down to the snow-be- 
 sprinkled sprays. 
 
 " I have been out in the garden, and I have brought 
 back these ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 The judge came forward with anxiety. "So we 
 perceive, my dear, so we perceive. I hope that my 
 daughter hasn't got her feet wet ? " 
 
 She quickly crossed the room and began arranging 
 the blooms in the tall vases on the pier-table, and 
 she threw him a loving, sidelong glance over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 "It is not your daughter you see before you; it is 
 Niobe, weeping this time for the little dead children 
 of the spring." 
 
 "Well, my dear, she may have wept herself into a 
 stone like the daughter of Tantalus, but 'the April's 
 
 388
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 in her eyes, ' ' the April's in her eyes,' " responded the 
 judge, softly. 
 
 Roger wheeled a chair for her before the fire, and 
 stood waiting while she lingered over her task, and the 
 judge hovered about her like a fussy old woman with 
 his inquiries. Had she had a cloak about her? Had 
 she thought to protect her feet? Had she wound a 
 scarf about her head? In his day he had never liked 
 to see a woman in the night air without a scarf, he 
 said; and in his opinion much athletics had made the 
 modern young person far too daring of the elements. 
 
 She answered gaily, evading when she could not 
 fully satisfy; and finally she came back and accepted 
 Roger's proffered chair. As she sank into it and 
 stretched out her prettily shod feet to the fire he saw 
 that the soles of her shoes were quite damp. 
 
 "I really did forget," she whispered in friendly 
 confidence and with a furtive glance toward the remote 
 corner of the room. 
 
 " It is very evident," replied Roger, smiling, with his 
 eyes on the little circle of vapor rising from her moist 
 slippers. He was struggling manfully to be simple 
 and self-forgetful, and there was that in her uncon- 
 scious dignity and sweetness and delicate aloofness 
 that compelled him to something like her serenity of 
 spirit, though not wholly. 
 
 "And it was perfectly horrid of me," she confessed, 
 389
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 contritely, *' not only because it would worry him if he 
 knew, but because it has always seemed to me to be 
 quite too contemptible to be reckless with one's health. 
 It is such an inexcusably unthinking thing to do 
 such an unnecessary hindering. And though the 
 * body at its best ' may not far project the ' soul on its 
 lone way,' still," and over her face there fell a veil 
 of seriousness shadowing its piquant playfulness, and 
 her eyes wandered thoughtfully to the fire, "still, 
 'flesh helps soul,' and there is something magnificent 
 in the assistance that it does give, don't you think 
 there is ? " 
 
 She was sitting in her father's high-backed Eliza- 
 bethan chair, her smooth dark head resting against 
 its carved spokes, her hands quietly folded in her lap; 
 and something in her repose of attitude, and in the 
 graceful folds of her soft silk gown shimmering in the 
 firelight, gave to her an antique grace and picturesque- 
 ness that seemed to remove her like some beautiful 
 old portrait from the fret and turmoil of a prosaic 
 day. Yet she was most distinctly a product of the 
 present. 
 
 "Don't you agree with me?" she asked, turning 
 slowly toward him, her slim neck, rising out of the 
 creamy lace of her bodice, all at once straightening 
 as she raised herself slightly and looked him directly 
 in the face. He was silent and she went on quickly. 
 
 390
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "Respect for the body, the right degree of respect, 
 is one of the soundest theories, I think, that this age 
 has evolved; and it is the engrafting of the Christian 
 ideal upon the old pagan conception of the value of 
 the physical." There was something strong and sweet 
 and steady in the earnest tones. 
 
 He started. The words, chiming in so strangely 
 with the train of thought that ne had been constantly 
 following up of late, came to him from her lips with an 
 almost overwhelming significance; and it was as if one 
 groping toward the light should suddenly feel his hand 
 firmly grasped by another traveler, bound for the same 
 goal, and surer of the way. 
 
 "I have been thinking about that recently," he said, 
 presently, in a low voice. "It seems to me that you 
 are right, and that it is a part of the great dominant 
 idea of the twentieth century: the idea of solidarity, 
 the idea of unity, which we are struggling toward in 
 all the supreme relations of life unity between the 
 powers of man's being, unity of the race, unity of 
 the human with the Divine." 
 
 She was studying him with pleased, sparkling eyes. 
 
 "Ah, how you have grown!" she cried, making the 
 first personal reference that she had fallen into, and 
 almost thanking him with the tones of her voice, 
 something in her look and manner bringing with vivid 
 distinctness before him the moonlight scene in the old 
 
 391
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 garden nearly two years before. What a little mother 
 she had been in her attitude toward him always! 
 
 He looked away and dropped the subject abruptly. 
 In Roger's own mind there was one point he had 
 neglected to mention, one thing that he had not dared 
 to touch upon, and that was the unity between man 
 and woman, thoughts of which in relation to his own 
 situation had led him 'up to the more general ideas he 
 had expressed. 
 
 But the next moment dinner was announced and the 
 judge, lifting his white head from his papers, came 
 forward in high good humor, prepared to show himself 
 once more the most genial of hosts. His own table 
 was the place where he always shone resplendent; and 
 as the meal progressed, Roger glancing from time to 
 time into his clear-cut patrician face, and noting the 
 rare good looks that matched the rarer sparkle of wit, 
 the exquisite courtesy that bespoke an old-world civili- 
 zation, found it not difficult to recognize in him a 
 descendant of the Jacques de la Fontaine, of whom 
 King Henry of Navarre, uttering his accustomed oath, 
 exclaimed on first beholding him, "Ventre St. Gris! 
 he is the handsomest man in my kingdom!" 
 
 When the dessert was brought on there was a flash 
 of pleasantry by means of which even Sibyl was for a 
 moment deceived. The judge glanced down at the 
 plate of strawberries that had just been set before him 
 
 392
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 with a gravity that scarcely seemed assumed, studying 
 it with curious interest. 
 
 "My dear, isn't there some mistake?" he inquired 
 of Sibyl across the table. 
 
 The girl looked up quickly, her housewifely instincts 
 roused to instant apprehension, and a little startled 
 look crept into her blue eyes. She waited. 
 
 But the judge was still attentively regarding his plate. 
 
 "Something is wrong," he said, shaking his head 
 quite solemnly. 
 
 The look of consternation on Sibyl's features deep- 
 ened. Her father was behaving so strangely. Though 
 the occasion was informal, still it scarcely seemed to 
 her to justify such unconventionality as a direct refer- 
 ence to some blunder that had evidently been made 
 either with regard to the fruit or in the manner of 
 serving it. But the judge lifted his head and she 
 caught the merry twinkle in his eye. 
 
 "I have given Roger my word that he should dine 
 upon strawberries served in cut-glass that once belonged 
 to your great-great-grandmother Elizabeth," he said. 
 
 Roger broke into laughter. "I release you, judge," 
 he cried, immensely relieved. Once more Sibyl's face 
 was a ripple of good-humor. 
 
 "Unfortunately," she commented, "my great-great- 
 grandmother Elizabeth is not always so interesting a 
 person to others as to myself. A few days ago I was 
 
 393
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 calling Judith Beverley's attention to some quaint old 
 silver salt-spoons. Shortly afterward I offered her 
 some pound cake. She looked at it suspiciously; and 
 then, before she would take any, she asked, 'Who 
 made this pound cake an ancestor ? ' " 
 
 And thus the subject was launched that led by such 
 easy gradations to the history that there was small 
 chance for the discussion of any other topic that 
 evening. When they returned to the library Sibyl 
 lighted the student's lamp on the table, and the beloved 
 manuscript was brought forth. The three grouped 
 themselves about the room, Sibyl with her embroidery 
 on one side of the chimney-piece, Roger on the other, 
 the judge sitting midway in the impassable space that 
 separated them, like the calm presence of personified 
 law holding ever before their eyes the scroll on which 
 was written the stern reminder of the invisible bond. 
 The wood fire merrily leaped and crackled on the 
 hearth; the low, melodious voice sonorously rolled out 
 the lengthy periods of the history; while outside the 
 night grew stiller and colder, congealing into an icy 
 shroud the snow that lay on the heart of every tender 
 bud and bloom. 
 
 394
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE FATE OF FRANCIS WALLER 
 
 WHEN Roger came down the steps several hours 
 later a white splendor swathed the grass and trees, 
 and the earth was very beautiful in its frozen sleep, 
 like some young dead thing arrayed in a robe of royalty. 
 The moon was shining, but with a sort of hard, alien 
 brilliancy, and hung merciless as destiny in the now 
 cloudless sky. The pale, cold light, the "rapture of 
 repose," the deathlike suggestion smote vaguely upon 
 his senses as something personal to himself, and acutely 
 in harmony with his present sufferings. As if Love, 
 not his own, but that which might have been given 
 him, lay slain and shrouded before his very eyes. 
 
 But he was almost blinded to the spectacle by the 
 fierce tumult that beat within. And once outside the 
 doorway, the long repression, which, with iron resolu- 
 tion he had been exercising, suddenly gave way, and 
 bis face grew haggard and desperate. The strain he 
 had been undergoing since the time of that first meeting 
 with Sibyl after her return had taxed his strong powers 
 
 395
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 to their utmost capacity of endurance, until to-night, 
 despite his seeming calm when with her, he knew that 
 a climax had been reached, and that he must not, 
 dared not, trust himself to see her once again. 
 
 The appalling realization that had swept down upon 
 him on that morning as dumbly he looked into her 
 eyes had burnt itself with a fiery brand into his heart 
 and brain ; and he knew that the hitherto boyish, poetic 
 fancies he had had of her had surrendered to a feeling 
 so deep, and enduring, and overmastering as to leave 
 him, like Dante on beholding Beatrice, aghast in the 
 presence of a deity stronger than he, who, coming, 
 should rule over him. 
 
 For with him, as with Dante, Love was not to present 
 himself in the guise of a roguish boy, but with masterful, 
 full-grown strength, a " Lord of terrible aspect," before 
 whom he could only bow in awestruck, dumb sub- 
 mission. It was adoration, the very white heat of 
 passion ; and this arousing in him immediately after 
 his solemn consecration of himself to principle of 
 an emotion so profound, and so irresistible, was but 
 another instance of the temptation in the wilderness 
 following hard upon the baptism of the spirit that 
 comes to all high natures. 
 
 As he went out into the darkness, and made his way 
 home, the subtle charm of her clinging to him still and 
 thrilling him to the heart's center, her beauty of soul
 
 FATE OF FRANCIS WALLER 
 
 and of mind and of body seemed all at once to pierce 
 him like a spear; and suddenly with a low cry he 
 stretched out his arms as to an invisible presence, and 
 stood with bowed head as if waiting a response to his 
 passionate inward call. In that instant there existed 
 for him in all the universe only this girl, and in the 
 whole gamut of emotions there sounded but a single 
 note concentrated in the one mad longing to hold her 
 in his arms, and to pour out his very soul to her in a 
 transport of unhindered devotion. 
 
 For several moments he stood there under the 
 pitiless moon. But presently his expression changed 
 abruptly. The light in his eyes faded. Despair had 
 returned to him, and again he was conscious, in its 
 inexorableness, of a situation that had come upon him 
 like the slow and terrible working out of an old Greek 
 tragedy whose end is sure, and whose beginning has 
 started in human frailty. Then he entered the great, 
 solitary abode he called his home, and turned his steps 
 in the direction of the library. 
 
 A few embers still glowed on the hearth, and mechan- 
 ically he threw on some pieces of wood, and flung 
 himself into the chair by the table. 
 
 And it was here he was still sitting, rigid from cold 
 and clean forespent, when the morning broke, and there 
 was ushered in a day which, all unknown to himself, 
 was to make his name a topic on many lips. 
 
 397
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Mrs. Caldwell hurried up the steps of her home and 
 on through the doorway with an agitation that ex- 
 pressed itself in such a spasmodic fluttering of her 
 bright adornment, such a rustling of silken skirts and 
 nodding of cerulean plumes, as to make her entrance 
 resemble nothing so much as the sudden flight of a 
 bluebird under excitement. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Caldwell, Millie?" she asked the 
 trim young negress in muslin cap and apron who had 
 come running to answer her impatient summons. " Oh, 
 I see," she cried as her glance wandered to a tiny 
 room a few steps beyond the second landing. "In 
 just a moment, Tim," she called to the comfortable 
 figure sitting with a book beside the window. 
 
 But the cheeriness was illy assumed, and it was with 
 an increase of trepidation that she speedily swept her 
 flounces up the remaining steps of the stairway and 
 passed onward, not in the direction of her husband, 
 but into her own bedroom, closing the door firmly 
 behind her. 
 
 She glanced at the clock. She had been one of the 
 last to leave the tea, and it was nearly seven. Tim 
 would be wondering about dinner. But she was not 
 quite ready for any sort of conversation with him yet, 
 and she was, in truth, shaken to the very foundations 
 of her being by something that had just been told her, 
 something she dreaded inexpressibly to tell him. 
 
 398
 
 FATE OF FRANCIS WALLER 
 
 Since that morning at the Beverleys when Judith 
 had poured into her ear a tale that had sent her home 
 more distinctly miserable than she recalled having 
 been in all her life before, she had become self-con- 
 scious and disturbed, feeling the burden of her share of 
 responsibility in relation to Roger's marriage to Marian 
 a veritable albatross about her neck, while all prospect 
 of the sort of satisfaction attained by the Ancient 
 Mariner when rehearsing his woes to a somewhat 
 unwilling Wedding Guest was denied her because of 
 her everlastingly binding oath. 
 
 She had told Tim the facts, the shocking hideous 
 facts, just as Judith had given them to her, but not 
 until days afterwards when she saw that his curiosity 
 with regard to the situation had been aroused; and 
 she trembled at the recollection of the deep stirring 
 of emotions the recital had called forth. That Tim 
 secretly held her to some degree to blame had become 
 a thought that tormented; and the idea had grown 
 until at the bare suggestion of any reopening of the 
 subject she found herself in imagination cowering 
 before her husband like a culprit in the presence of 
 an accuser. But finally she crossed the hall and 
 entered the little room where he sat reading. 
 
 "What have you been up to in all that splendor?" 
 he asked, as he hastened to adjust a cushion back of 
 her head. 
 
 399
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "A tea at the Beverleys." 
 
 " I'll be hanged if you don't look completely fagged 
 out." 
 
 "I am a little tired." 
 
 He arranged the pillows a little more comfortably, 
 making a cheerful grumbling as he did so. 
 
 " If there is one thing above another on God's green 
 earth that is an unfathomable mystery to me, and that 
 is likely to remain an unfathomable mystery to me, I 
 suppose, to the end of the chapter, it is the needless 
 torture you women inflict upon yourselves," he ob- 
 served, as he returned to his chair. 
 
 She did not answer, and his big blonde face twinkled 
 with amusement as he sat leaning his chin on his 
 elbow, and watching her in a sort of quizzical, medita- 
 tive fashion, of which, however, she appeared wholly 
 unconscious. 
 
 "Tim," she said, abruptly, "Francis Waller and 
 Marian were seen together in Europe. Not long ago 
 one of his Cincinnati acquaintances met him in Lon- 
 don. In a reckless moment he acknowledged every- 
 thing one night when under the influence of some drug. 
 The man told his wife, and she wrote the whole thing 
 home to some one in Cincinnati, who, as it happened, 
 had once or twice seen the two together during the 
 time that Marian used to go there for music lessons. 
 Then the story spread, and it soon reached here, and 
 
 400
 
 FATE OF FRANCIS WALLER 
 
 after Judith knew it, it meant that every one would 
 know it until this afternoon at the tea it was the one 
 thing talked about. Oh, Tim, isn't it just terrible 
 for poor Roger ? " 
 
 But she was deliberately temporizing. It was not 
 that, just that, she had come to tell him; something 
 held her back from the startling communication that 
 a natural impulse would have led her to make known 
 instantly, and it was a sort of morbid and desperate 
 self-consciousness that made her eager first to discover 
 whether he really did have any sort of blame for her. 
 
 Tim Caldwell's huge form stirred uneasily, and his 
 honest, kindly features suddenly blackened ominously. 
 
 " Ada, I wish to God," he said, slowly and fervently, 
 "that you had never married him off to that red- 
 haired girl you had here." 
 
 She drew back as if he had struck her. 
 
 "Please do not say that I married him to her," she 
 said, quickly, with trembling lips. She put out im- 
 ploring hands, and waited piteously. 
 
 But he had risen. He walked over to the window, 
 and she knew that his thoughts had returned to Waller, 
 for between his clenched teeth she heard him mutter, 
 "The hound! Great God, the hound!" 
 
 He stood looking out for an instant in the gathering 
 darkness, his heavy brows knit. Suddenly he wheeled 
 and looked her in the eyes, and something in the 
 
 401
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 strange quietude of his voice made her blood run 
 cold. 
 
 "Do you believe Roger knows that the man is 
 Waller?" he demanded, sternly. 
 
 For an instant she hesitated, then she said in a 
 barely audible tone: 
 
 "No; I am quite sure that he does not know " 
 
 "Why?" he insisted. 
 
 " Because I met him on my way home from the tea, 
 and I I talked with him and I I am sure, 
 from something he said that he is wholly with- 
 out suspicion." 
 
 She was shivering as from cold. There was that 
 in his manner which filled her with actual terror, and 
 after she had spoken there was a moment of intense 
 suspense. 
 
 "No one could tell him such a thing," she supple- 
 mented, quickly. 
 
 Tim Caldwell stood perfectly still in the center of 
 the room, and all at once he raised his arm and held 
 it uplifted. He was deadly pale. 
 
 "Then, by God, I shall be the man to tell him!" 
 he swore. "And if he's got one half the grit in him 
 I give him credit for, there'll be a bullet in the brain 
 of that dastardly cur before another ten days have 
 passed ! " 
 
 Ada Caldwell sank back among her cushions 
 402
 
 FATE OF FRANCIS WALLER 
 
 quivering in every nerve, and with such a sense of awe 
 of his profound feeling that for a moment she was 
 completely forgetful of the climax of information that 
 she was yet to make known to him. 
 
 In all the years of her married life she had never 
 seen him in just the light hi which he appeared to her 
 at that moment. And whether she most shrank from 
 him as one who, under conditions of such provocation 
 as were those of his friend, would stain his hands with 
 the blood of the man who had wronged him, or ad- 
 mired him for that tremendous, elementary power he 
 had just displayed, and which in some vague way 
 she realized was to be traced back to his great love 
 for her, she was too overwrought clearly to decide. 
 
 When she spoke again her voice sounded hollow 
 and sepulchral. 
 
 "Roger is spared from murder. I came to tell 
 you" 
 
 He suddenly turned and faced her inquiringly. 
 
 "Francis Waller has committed suicide from an 
 overdose of morphine," she said. " The news has just 
 reached here." 
 
 403
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN WHICH TWO PERSONS RECEIVE A SHOCK 
 
 MRS. CALDWELL was correct in supposing that 
 Roger knew nothing of the part that Francis Waller 
 had played in the destruction of his home; and but for 
 the fact that Marian was never even remotely in his 
 presence referred to by any one, Roger would have had 
 little reason to suspect that rumor was at all concerned 
 with her name. Tim Caldwell, it is true, meeting him 
 on the street one day, had plied him with questions 
 that he had found it hard to answer. But the honest, 
 unsuspecting inquiries had been in a way even less 
 trying to his proudly sensitive nature though it had 
 led to the avoidance of friends whom he greatly cared 
 for than was the tactful silence of others, which 
 told him only too plainly that suspicion of the situa- 
 tion was rife. 
 
 Waller's tragic death had brought to mind the occa- 
 sion on which he had last seen him more than a year 
 and a half before; and the recollection was especially 
 in his thoughts one beautiful afternoon several weeks 
 
 404
 
 TWO PERSONS RECEIVE A SHOCK 
 
 later when he was returning by way of the interurban 
 electric railway over the same road on which he and 
 Marian had driven on the day when he had asked her 
 to be his wife. Business had taken him to an adjoin- 
 ing town, and going he had been wholly occupied with 
 the matter before him. But as he was returning, 
 something in the riotous beauty of the exquisite stretch 
 of bluegrass country through which he was passing 
 flashed before his mental vision every detail of that 
 other afternoon of such profound significance to him- 
 self; and once more, down the hill in the late summer 
 sunset, a collie following at his heels, came the care- 
 fully dressed, stoutly built figure with the Vandyke 
 beard; and once more he saw the eager fluttering of 
 Marian's gauzy veil as she quickly lifted it on hearing 
 who it was that was approaching. 
 
 Could it be that it was actually only a year and 
 eight months since he sat listening to their badinage, 
 a half-angry boy, chafing under the interview, and 
 impatient to be done with it? 
 
 As the car passed the exact spot where the meeting 
 with Waller had taken place, he raised himself and 
 looked steadily out of the window. Everywhere 
 there were the gracious signs of renewal, the activity 
 of things animate and inanimate, that marks the com- 
 ing of the springtide. Barns had been repainted, 
 fences had been whitewashed, and men called merrily 
 
 405
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 to one another across the freshly ploughed fields. It 
 was an idyllic scene, an enchanting blending of greens 
 and browns and misty purple hues; while far away in 
 the horizon the eye wandered to a dim outline of 
 mighty forest trees stretched like a protecting arm 
 about the young growing things, and caught the part- 
 ing rays of the April sun late lingering as if loath to 
 leave the pregnant, gladsome earth. 
 
 With what exuberance of spirits, what ecstatic over- 
 flow of joy, he used to wake up to the consciousness 
 of the return of spring, just as if within him too the 
 sap were rising! He recalled that his mother at those 
 times had sometimes likened him to a young colt as 
 he would come bounding into her presence. How 
 he used to delight to lure her into the woods, and 
 when she attempted excuses, to carry her off forcibly 
 into the sunshine! How long, great God, how long 
 it was since he had felt and acted like that! 
 
 He had been away since noon, and James had had 
 orders to bring whatever mail there should be at the 
 office and put it on the table in his library. 
 
 On entering this room he looked about him. There 
 were no letters. But lying on one of the books he 
 had lately been reading, and in a conspicuous place 
 on the table, there was a paper addressed to him. 
 
 He picked it up and opened it, with an incompre- 
 hensible sense of expectation, and immediately his 
 
 406
 
 TWO PERSONS RECEIVE A SHOCK 
 
 i 
 
 eye fell upon the portion intended to attract his atten- 
 tion, being caught by the heavy ink marks that lined 
 it up and down. 
 
 He read a sentence or two, and then suddenly 
 paused. His glance leaped down the page and rested 
 there, and he stood still as a stone. Every vestige of 
 color had fled from his face. His eyes were wide 
 with horror, and a heavy perspiration had gathered 
 on his brow. 
 
 He waited a moment, and then once more he held 
 the paper to the light, and read the notice through. 
 
 Five, ten minutes passed. ' Still he stood there, not 
 moving, scarcely breathing. Every muscle seemed 
 paralyzed; even his power to think had deserted him. 
 He was completely stunned. 
 
 But all at once he was roused by the striking of the 
 clock on the mantel. As one dazed he listened, count- 
 ing the strokes. An instant afterward he crossed the 
 room quickly and touched the bell. James appeared. 
 
 He turned as the negro entered and gave his orders 
 in a low voice that sounded unfamiliar even to himself. 
 
 "Telephone to the C and O station and see if you 
 can get a berth for me," he said, "and bring my 
 steamer trunk down from the attic and pack it, and 
 tell Aunt Daphne I must have dinner at once; I am 
 leaving this evening for New York." And before the 
 astonished James could recover himself sufficiently 
 
 407
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 from the surprise of the announcement, Roger was 
 hurrying to his room to complete the necessary arrange- 
 ments attendant upon a most hastily planned departure. 
 
 It was about an hour and a half afterwards of the 
 same evening that Judge Fontaine crossed the inter- 
 vening space between his house and that of Roger 
 Boiling and softly entered without ringing the doorbell. 
 He made his way to the library, and stood midway in the 
 room, giving an inquiring glance around as if he half 
 demanded an apology for Roger's unexpected absence 
 from the old portraits thai calmly looked down on him 
 from the walls. 
 
 He carried in his hand a very rare volume of early 
 Kentucky history written in 1792 by Gilbert Imlay 
 " ever memorable," to quote the judge's own descriptive 
 words, " as the lover of the beautiful but hapless Mary 
 Wollstonecraf t " ; and with punctilious precaution he 
 wished in person to return the book which he had 
 borrowed, placing it with his own hands in the exact 
 spot from which it had been taken. 
 
 Depositing the volume, he took the chair beside the 
 table in which he supposed Roger had just been sitting. 
 Mechanically he reached out a hand for something to 
 read while he waited, and the first thing it fell upon 
 was the newspaper that had dropped from Roger's 
 trembling hands a little while before. 
 
 408
 
 TWO PERSONS RECEIVE A SHOCK 
 
 He put on his glasses and began to read. It was a 
 London newspaper he saw at once, and as his eye ran 
 down the columns it was caught by the heavy ink 
 marks about the notice which Roger's keener vision 
 had instantly turned to. 
 
 The notice was headed, " Frightful Holocaust," and 
 it was a description of the burning of a London theatre 
 in which many lives were lost, including every member 
 of the company that had been giving in it an afternoon 
 performance of a light popular opera. The judge 
 read the description through, caught against his will 
 by something graphic and tersely dramatic in the 
 relation of the gruesome details. All at once his face 
 blanched. The paper fluttered from his hands, and 
 with a smothered exclamation he sprang to his feet, 
 staring helplessly about him. 
 
 "Bless me!" he exclaimed, snatching up the paper 
 again and fixing his gaze upon it. " Great God, how 
 horrible ! " 
 
 He held the fluttering pages for some time in his 
 hands, no longer seeing what was printed upon them. 
 He was thinking intently, and gradually his bewilder- 
 ment gave way to conviction. For there was a list of 
 the dead mentioned, and in it one name, the first 
 his glance had fallen upon, stood out as if written in 
 letters of fire the name of Marian Day. 
 
 Yet might there not be a doubt ? 
 409
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 The judge crossed the room quickly and touched 
 the electric bell. It was a long time before there was 
 any response, but finally shambling down the hall came 
 Uncle Lish. 
 
 " I hearn you, jedge," he confessed, apologetically, as 
 he stood bowing in the doorway, " but seem lak I is a 
 slow mover dese days, an' Jeems he al'ays answers de 
 bell whin he's heah, an' whin he ain' I des has to ax 
 Daphne holp me into my coat long o' de rheumatiz, an' 
 arter I done got hit on I ain' ve'y peert an' spry. Lawd, 
 Lawd, but dis wo'ld sho is full o' trouble." 
 
 " Where is Mr. Roger, Lish ? " asked the judge, going 
 straight to the point, being in no mood for generalities 
 however incontrovertible. 
 
 The negro shook his head. "He ain' heah, jedge," 
 he answered, sorrowfully. "Dis wo'ld sho is full o' 
 trouble." 
 
 " How long has he been gone ? " 
 
 "'Tain' long, jedge, he an' Jeems shot out de doo' 
 an' dey wuz gone lak de win'. Hit sho is a fine thing 
 to have a big strappin' nigger lak dat Jeems to wait 
 on him, but de cun'l he knowed dat sense ain' al'ays 
 in a pa'r o' legs, an' me an' Daphne moughty worritted. 
 Daphne she have sparrehgrass soup, an' he ain' eat no 
 more'n a spoonful, an' she have spring lam' an' mint 
 sauce, an' he ain' eat no more'n a moufful, an' de rest o' 
 dem things she cooked is a-settin' in de kitchen on de 
 
 410
 
 TWO PERSONS RECEIVE A SHOCK 
 
 table now, a-lookin' reproachful. Yas, Lawd, de cun'l 
 he knowed dat 'tain' no sense to go travelin' 'thout you 
 got a bellyful, caze you sho is gwine git hongry on de 
 way de ve'y time whin victuals ain' handy." 
 
 The judge meditated an instant before he put the 
 next question. 
 
 " Did did Mr. Roger leave any message ? " he 
 inquired, haltingly. 
 
 The old negro scratched his head. "Not as I 
 knowed on, jedge," he replied, at length. "He come 
 out to de kitchen, an' he shuk ban's wid me an' Daphne, 
 an' he tell us take keer o' ever'thing tell he come 
 back, an' he say he don' know how long he gwine stay 
 'way, an' he lookin' moughty solemn. Me an' Daphne 
 is takin' it powerful hard. De cun'l never did leave 
 on sech short notice, leastways whin we-all got spring 
 lam' an' young peas, an' cauliflower, an' " 
 
 The judge waved his hand a trifle impatiently. 
 The impropriety of further questioning had occurred 
 to him, but the suspicion that had taken hold upon 
 him constrained him to make still another inquiry. 
 He straightened himself all at once. 
 
 "Elisha," he asked with an assumption of great 
 dignity that somehow seemed to atone to his somewhat 
 outraged sense of decorum, "did your young master 
 happen to mention to what part of the world he was 
 bound for?" 
 
 411
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 " To Yurrup, jedge," replied the old negro, promptly. 
 "Dis sho am a wo'ld o' trouble." 
 
 The judge started perceptibly. For a moment he 
 stood thinking. Then he turned. 
 
 "Ah, to Europe," he commented, softly, as he reached 
 for his hat and cane. 
 
 412
 
 CHAPTER XH 
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 IT was midsummer before Roger returned from 
 Europe. The investigation which he had crossed the 
 ocean to make, and to which he had brought all the 
 powers of his intellect and legal acumen, only confirmed 
 the accuracy of the story in its entire hideousness of 
 detail that had been given in the London newspaper. 
 That Marian was a member of the opera company 
 referred to, that not more than five minutes before the 
 fire broke out she had been seen on the stage, and that 
 she met her death in the terrible way described, with 
 the rest of her associates whose charred and unrecog- 
 nizable bodies had afterwards been recovered, seemed 
 to him to be proved beyond the smallest possibility of 
 doubt. 
 
 There was but one thing that still remained for him 
 in mystery: the name of the man who had wronged 
 him, whose shadow seemed ever hovering near 
 always beckoning yet always eluding, in a sort of grim 
 and ghastly humorousness as Roger went about his 
 
 413
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 painful task of discovery. It was a subject which 
 until then he had scarcely dared to allow his mind to 
 dwell upon, lest it arouse in him that awful white heat 
 of feeling before which a man stands affrighted even 
 of himself. He had no suspicion beyond the surmise 
 that had now and then flashed into his thought that it 
 was probably some one she had known through her 
 study of music in Cincinnati. Her subsequent short- 
 lived career upon the stage had seemed to strengthen 
 this conjecture. But he had not sought to know what 
 she had told him it would be her supreme effort to 
 conceal; and as he saw the curtain descend upon that 
 last most tragic scene of a life that had been so des- 
 perate and so misguided, only a feeling of pity was 
 left, and he was glad that the dark secret of her down- 
 fall was hidden from him, so that he might the more 
 readily throw over his remembrance of her the kindly 
 light of forgiveness. Where love is absent forgiveness 
 to the offender is not difficult; and all along there had 
 been less resentment toward her than bitterness toward 
 the situation, the forces of which he himself had started 
 into action. Now he saw in the fire that had destroyed 
 the woman the symbolism of purification and of obliter- 
 ation, so that the individual was swallowed up in the 
 universal, and all that remained were the great broad 
 principles of human tragedy. 
 
 In June he had sent to the Lexington newspapers a 
 414
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 brief notice of her death, but it was not until the last 
 of July that he turned his face homeward. A profound 
 weariness, almost an apathy, was upon him, and as he 
 stood once more, untrammelled, free to make of his 
 life the complete and splendid thing which in his early 
 manhood he had dreamed it might be, he felt as an 
 athlete might feel whose arms have been long bandaged, 
 and to whom the removal of the straps and swathes 
 means not a return of the old power and vigor, but a 
 sense of well-nigh paralytic impotence. 
 
 He found the old town peacefully basking in the 
 glory of the summer sunshine, and his friends going 
 about their wonted tasks with the easy indifference and 
 mild display of energies that the Southron is very apt 
 to permit to himself from the time of the coming of the 
 first warm days down until the autumn. Many per- 
 sons were away, but there were enough remaining to 
 give to the place that light and cheerful aspect that it 
 always wore at this season, like a summer resort; and 
 as Roger passed to and fro to his office he would often 
 see sitting on broad vine-shaded verandas, or beneath 
 wide-spreading trees, a whole family, and sometimes 
 half a neighborhood, assembled, the men discoursing 
 usually upon politics, and the women in their cool 
 white draperies laughingly abetting them, or adroitly 
 turning the conversation into other channels whenever 
 it threatened to become either too dull or too violent. 
 
 415
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Judge Fontaine and Sibyl were at Bar Harbor, and 
 not expected to return, his servants told him, until the 
 first of September. 
 
 He had been at home about a week when one day, 
 coming back a little earlier than usual for luncheon, 
 he wandered out into the garden and whistled for the 
 dogs to come to him. They were lazy in appearing, 
 and as he waited, his eyes slowly, and as if drawn 
 thither by an irresistible magnet, traveled toward the 
 little arched gateway midway in the osage orange hedge 
 that opened into the judge's premises. 
 
 He stood quite still, looking steadily toward the 
 tiny portal, his expression grave and undecided. 
 Everywhere a noontide languor prevailed. Not a 
 creature was stirring about his own place, and the 
 judge's, he knew, would seem even more deserted, 
 for the reason that even the care-taker was off for a 
 holiday. The drowsy hum of bees mingling with 
 the occasional call of a jay or a robin alone broke the 
 delicious quietude. He crossed the yard and softly 
 turned the knob of the gate. But he suddenly drew 
 back and would not enter as a soul might draw 
 back trembling before the gates of paradise. As he 
 paused irresolute, all at once from the honeysuckle 
 bush near by the redbird that had built his nest there 
 the same that had broken in upon them with his 
 piercing, full-throated melody on that April morning 
 
 416
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 when Roger and Sibyl met for the first time after her 
 return lifted up his voice and began to sing. He 
 began softly, with only a few low, detached, intimately 
 fervid notes, gradually waxing more and more ecstatic 
 until the very air seemed weighted with his love-song 
 as an oriental garden is weighted with perfume. Roger 
 listened with a dull wistfulness in his eyes. Then, as 
 the song died away, a light overspread his features, 
 and with an end of hesitation he turned the knob and 
 entered. From that moment new life awoke in him. 
 Sibyl's presence pervaded every nook and corner 
 of the garden, and was the supreme essence of its 
 sweetness. She was a part of its dazzling sunlight 
 and of its cool, deep shadows, its tender, maternal 
 solace, its evanescent maiden charm. From every 
 leaf and flower she spoke to him, with every sigh of 
 the summer wind she comforted him. So near did 
 she seem to him there that as he made his way to the 
 bench under the great tree beneath which they had 
 sat on that farewell evening of her dance, he half 
 paused to listen to the soft trailing of her ethereal 
 garments as she followed him to the place, while 
 once more the moonlight was gleaming on her bare, 
 beautiful neck and arms, and her haunting voice was 
 sounding in his ears. Ah, that voice! How often 
 in his dreams since then had he heard it, floating down 
 to him in his slumbers like the soft whisper of a magic 
 
 417
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 flute! How waking he had striven to put the memory 
 of it from him, lest like the siren voice of old it lure 
 him to the death of all those hardly-won principles of 
 life which he had wrested from each fierce battle of 
 the soul as his superb spoils of victory! And as he sat 
 there, realizing her, gloating over her, absorbing her 
 into his very being, the wheel of time turned back- 
 ward, and the last two miserable, despairing years 
 seemed for an instant to vanish, and again he was the 
 undaunted, untired youth of that enchanted summer 
 night. 
 
 But it was only for an instant. Like a returning 
 wave the recollection of all the circumstances relating 
 to his unhappy marriage bore down upon him and 
 overwhelmed him; and with a groan he buried his face 
 in his hands, and shut out the vision from him. How 
 could he hope to win her now, he asked himself in 
 bitterness of spirit, after all that had come between ? 
 For with him, as it has ever been with every true lover 
 under the sun, doubt went hand in hand with hope. 
 
 Yet from that time on he gave himself up wholly 
 to the luxury of dreaming of her, thus feeling in the 
 mere release of conscience with regard to her a joy 
 that was only a little short of actual possession. Often 
 in the clear, still midsummer dawns he would wake 
 and think of her, always seeing her face as it looked 
 to him on that never to be forgotten night in the 
 
 418
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 moonlight; for behind the veil of simple friendliness 
 she had worn in their recent meetings he had not been 
 able to find her, though again and again her voice had 
 seemed to him to echo her little farewell speech. " Be 
 a good boy," she had said to him, as she held his 
 hands in hers, and every word and every look she had 
 given him since her return seemed intended but as a 
 supplement to it, and as a divine uplift in the midst 
 of a dismal wreckage. 
 
 There was not at this season of the year the usual 
 amount of business requiring his attention, and he 
 fell into the habit of coming home to luncheon earlier 
 than heretofore that he might spend a quiet hour in 
 her garden, alone with her in that mysterious life of 
 the spirit which with him had come to be so much 
 more real than the actual that he could scarcely per- 
 suade himself that her very bodily presence also had 
 not been conjured to appear before him when he would 
 awake from this day dream and go back into the 
 world of commonplace again. 
 
 The courthouse clock was just sounding the hour of 
 twelve one day, the loud, resonant peals echoing far 
 and wide through the old town, when he went up the 
 steps of his home. In a sudden great longing for her 
 he had laid aside his work and returned a whole hour 
 sooner than ordinarily, and as he strode through the 
 hall he smiled a little to himself at the encroachment 
 
 419
 
 his indulgence had allowed. But he was far from 
 repentant, and five minutes later he was lying out- 
 stretched on the grass beside the bench in Sibyl's 
 shadowy garden with his e^es closed, beholding her, 
 hearing her, adoring her, with that marvelous capacity 
 for conceiving an experience that certain finely or- 
 ganized beings possess, and that has in it the element 
 of pure poetry where there is a great love coupled 
 with a great humility. 
 
 So absorbed was he in his own thoughts, so far 
 removed from the distant hum of the little city wherein 
 men walked oppressed with sordid care, that he had 
 lost all sense of time; and he scarcely knew whether 
 he had been there a long or a short while when sud- 
 denly he opened his eyes and saw her standing before 
 him. For an instant he gazed at her bewildered, as 
 if he still half believed her to be but the lovely phantom 
 of his dreams. Then with a low, joyful exclamation 
 he sprang to his feet. 
 
 She had been standing within two or three feet of 
 him, looking down upon him, and she had evidently 
 thought that he was sleeping, for her expression altered 
 quickly when he opened his eyes. But in the flash of 
 that swift transition he had caught a look upon the 
 beautiful face that he was not able to interpret. 
 
 "Oh, but I didn't mean to wake you!" she cried. 
 "I came on tiptoe, and as softly as a cat. Did you 
 
 420
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 ever notice how a cat walks when going through long 
 grass ? And you never would have known I was here 
 if a spool hadn't fallen out of my work-basket." 
 
 She wore a pink cotton gown, and she carried in the 
 crook of one arm a little white and gold basket filled 
 to overflowing, one dainty bit of embroidery overcrowd- 
 ing silks and needles and certain odds and ends of lace 
 and ribbons which had found their way into the small 
 receptacle. 
 
 " You didn't wake me," he answered, gravely, " and 
 you you only materialized." 
 
 He took the hand she held out to him, asking himself 
 if she guessed even a little of what the moment meant 
 to him the wonder of it; and he tried to make his 
 voice sound natural, and was conscious that he had 
 failed utterly. He suddenly looked away. 
 
 She had quietly seated herself on the bench and was 
 spreading out her embroidery. 
 
 " When when did you come ? " he faltered again, 
 turning to her with that dazed, half comprehending 
 look his face had worn when he first opened his eyes 
 and beheld her, and could not know whether she was 
 a creature of flesh and blood or an illusion born merely 
 of the intensity of his own emotion. 
 
 "We came last night," she answered, "quite unex- 
 pectedly. It was cold at Bar Harbor, and we both 
 longed for home." Then she added, quickly, with a 
 
 421
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 soft, indulgent smile around, "Did you ever see such 
 a wild tangle as my garden? It has quite outgrown 
 itself like a great unkempt school-boy, and I can 
 scarcely keep from scolding it just a wee bit for such 
 uppishness." 
 
 He did not speak, but he flung himself down to the 
 ground at her feet, and presently he reached out and 
 gathered a handful of the long grasses that her gown 
 had swept in passing. He appeared to be studying 
 them intently, but in reality he was only asking himself 
 a question, and that was how in the name of all that 
 was reasonable he was going to keep himself within 
 bounds of cool propriety when his heart was leaping 
 in a madness of joy within him, and when he scarcely 
 trusted himself to look at her for fear he should spring 
 up and snatch her into his arms. 
 
 But in spite of her sweet and gracious cordiality 
 there was about her a fine reserve not easy to break 
 down, and one realized that she was a woman whose 
 resources of polish and wit and ease were such that 
 a complete grasp of any situation in which she might 
 be placed would be hers. That it was her intention to 
 show him the same simple friendliness, the same free- 
 dom from constraint that she had steadfastly main- 
 tained in their recent previous meetings, he well knew 
 but he was conscious of an alteration. She was not 
 less friendly, but she was strangely different. He felt 
 
 422
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 it in the very tones of her voice and in the delicate 
 atmosphere of aloofness that was about her. 
 
 All at once a sudden sharp foreboding pierced him 
 like a sword thrust. If some other man had won what 
 his whole being cried out for! The thought was one 
 to set his brain on fire and drive him headlong, through 
 a swift impetuosity of feeling, to rashness of expression, 
 in order that at once he might know the worst. Yet 
 something in her manner held him back. 
 
 He glanced quickly toward her. She was in the act 
 of threading her needle, and there lay spread out in 
 her lap a circular piece of damask on which were 
 embroidered some half a dozen fern leaves in a shade 
 of green that well simulated the natural colors. In 
 her perfect serenity she both soothed and baffled him. 
 If she had been sitting there in this simple fashion 
 with him at her feet every day for weeks or months, 
 or years, she could scarcely have seemed more at home 
 with him. And yet he dared not speak one word of 
 the great love that was clamoring so loudly for utter- 
 ance. In the violence of the sudden apprehension 
 that had shaken him lest too late to win her his freedom 
 had come to him, his sense of delicacy in regard to the 
 situation was for the moment swallowed up, and man- 
 like he was rendered desperate and alive only to the 
 thought of alleviating his uncertainty. 
 
 Her little work-basket was on the bench beside her, 
 423
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 and to conceal his agitation he reached out for it, and 
 bent his head down over it, fingering its dainty con- 
 tents. In the bottom of the basket his hands, still 
 trembling, touched a tiny book. 
 
 " What have you here ? " he asked, looking up at her. 
 "May I look at it?" 
 
 She nodded, smiling, and he drew it forth with that 
 sense of intimate discovery in relation to the person 
 beloved that a lover feels in regard to the most trifling 
 thing thus unexpectedly come upon. 
 
 " Oh ! " he cried, delighted, with uncontrollable fervor 
 in his voice and a half- shy glance at her, " do you love 
 it too ? How strange! I have just been reading it." 
 
 His face was lit with a sudden boyish enthusiasm, 
 and he held the little book in his hands an instant 
 without opening it. It was the Andrew Lang transla- 
 tion of the old thirteenth-century cantefable the 
 quaint tale told in alternate prose and verse by the 
 " captive gray," of the immortal loves of Aucassin and 
 Nicolete. 
 
 He slowly turned the pages. " How young it makes 
 me feel again ! " he exclaimed, with a laugh. " I don't 
 believe I have seen the original once since my uni- 
 versity days, yet it is as fresh with me as if I had read 
 it only yesterday; and this has brought back so many 
 delicious memories: long moonlit strolls with Bernard 
 de Ventadour, and Pierre Vidal, and above all 'the 
 
 424
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 old captive ' and the sound of viols and the laughter 
 of lovely ladies leaning from their casements as 
 together we wandered from castle to castle in 'the 
 happy poplar land.' I surely was a troubadour of 
 the troubadours, in those days," he ended, with a 
 sudden gravity. 
 
 She leaned toward him with that curious com- 
 mingling of archness and seriousness that was one of 
 the distinct marks of her personality, and that gave 
 to it its most peculiar charm, quoting lightly, yet with 
 a note of sadness: 
 
 When I was young as you are young, 
 
 When lutes were touched, and songs were sung, 
 
 And love lamps in the window hung. 
 
 " But we are not very old yet," he said, quickly, and 
 appealingly. 
 
 She threw him a laughing, piquant glance. "I am 
 nearly twenty-five," she remarked, naively. 
 
 " And I am nearly thirty," he responded, very quietly. 
 
 He was silent a moment. " It must have been rather 
 rough on the viel caitif to think that it was all over 
 with him," he said, musingly, a light coming into his 
 eyes that gave to his features a very different aspect 
 from what they wore in the ordinary rough-and- 
 tumble intercourse of life. And then, as she flushed 
 a little, he added, meaningly " That would be a 
 hard thing for any man." 
 
 425
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "Yet he tells the tale, as his translator suggests, of 
 his dear provei^al lovers," she responded, with some- 
 thing like embarrassed haste, "as if love were so long 
 past with him that he could think of the loss of it 
 without bitterness and even with a sort of humorous 
 patience." 
 
 She seemed to him to be deliberately ignoring every- 
 thing in his manner that veered toward the personal, 
 and he was hurt and troubled. He held the book 
 thoughtfully as his gaze wandered away for an instant. 
 
 "There was not much 'humorous patience' about 
 the loves of Aucassin and Nicolete," he said, at length, 
 a trifle bitterly. "Theirs was a love so deep and ter- 
 rible that nothing could thwart it, and nothing could 
 alter it; and that is the reason why for more than six 
 hundred years the story has lived, and will continue 
 to h've as long as there are any true lovers left in the 
 world." 
 
 Her cheeks had flushed a deeper pink and her 
 violet eyes were lowered. But there was a small 
 flickering smile about her lips as she bent over her 
 embroidery. 
 
 "Read a little to me," she said, softly. 
 
 And then Roger turned the pages and read of how 
 old Count Garin de Biaucaire was hard pressed of his 
 enemy and besieged by an army of a hundred knights 
 and ten thousand men at arms, horsemen and footmen ; 
 
 426
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 and of how young Aucassin, the count's son, Aucassin 
 of the yellow hair and blue and laughing eyes, refused 
 to be dubbed knight, or to mount steed, or to go into 
 the "stour where knights do smite and are smitten," 
 unless they give him Nicolete, his sweet lady, so sud- 
 denly overtaken was he of Love, who, according to 
 his ancient chronicler, "is a great master." 
 
 He paused a moment, and Sibyl looked up. Her 
 eyes did not meet his but traveled on to a small patch 
 of sunshine in the distance, made particularly luminous 
 by contrast with the near-by all-encompassing shadows. 
 
 "If Aucassin had been my lover," she said, "I 
 think I should have loved him even a little more, 
 and have believed that he loved me even a little 
 more, if he had gone bravely about his knightly 
 duties." 
 
 His eyes kindled with warmth and gratitude. 
 " Should you ? " he asked, quickly, " should you ? " 
 
 But Sibyl would not answer. Roger fingered the 
 pages with hands that suddenly trembled again. 
 
 "You will have to admit," he said, after a moment, 
 " that when he did go into battle at last on the covenant 
 that, if God should bring him back sound and safe, 
 he should see her long enough to have of her 'two 
 words or three, and one kiss,' that he hacked and slew 
 a plenty, though at first he was so filled with the 
 thought of her that he even forgot where he was and 
 
 427
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 what he had to do; and I don't wonder," he added, 
 with one of his old whimsical youthful smiles, and the 
 insistent personal note. 
 
 "I should have loved him even a little more, and 
 have believed that he loved me even a little more, if 
 he had felt he must go, though there was little prospect 
 of the ' two words or three, and one kiss,' " she answered, 
 bending lower over her work. 
 
 "I believe you would," Ke replied in a low, 
 tense voice. " I knew I have always known you 
 would." 
 
 Then softly, as if the antique love-song were a thing 
 that had been written solely for him, Roger read the 
 lament of the imprisoned Aucassin as he poured out 
 his soul in broken-hearted longing: 
 
 " My sweet lady, lily white, 
 Sweet thy footfall, sweet thine eyes, 
 And the mirth of thy replies. 
 Sweet thy laughter, sweet thy face, 
 Sweet thy lips, and sweet thy brow, 
 And the touch of thine embrace. 
 Who but doth in thee delight? 
 I for love of thee am bound 
 In this dungeon under ground, 
 All for loving thee must lie 
 Here where loud on thee I cry, 
 Here for loving thee must die 
 For thee, my love." 
 
 428
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 With a quick little gesture she dropped her em- 
 broidery, and bent down above him, reading from the 
 same page whereon his gaze still lingered. 
 
 " And it is so beautiful here," she eried, " where she 
 makes her escape from the palace upper chamber, 
 'painted wondrously with colors of a far countrie,' 
 and goes to the ruined tower in which Aucassin is 
 confined. 
 
 "'Aucassin was cast in prison,' she read, 'as ye 
 have heard tell, and Nicolete, of her part, was in the 
 chamber. Now it was summer time, in the month of 
 May, when days are warm, and long, and clear, and 
 the nights still and serene. Nicolete lay one night on 
 her bed, and saw the moon shine clear through a 
 window, yea, and heard the nightingale sing in the 
 garden, so she minded her of Aucassin her lover whom 
 she loved so well.' " 
 
 "And she had only to mind herself of him," he 
 interrupted, darting a swift glance into her eyes, " to be 
 willing to undertake a most desperate and daring 
 thing for his sake. Could a woman love as much as 
 that still, I wonder ? " 
 
 "Yes and more." The words fell from her lips 
 more like a soft, quick breathing than actual speech. 
 But an instant afterward she had picked up her em- 
 broidery and seemed intent only upon her centerpiece. 
 
 " Read about the lodge of boughs in the forest," she 
 429
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 said, " where she waits for Aucassin, after he has been 
 taken out of prison." 
 
 For an instant he looked steadily at her. Could there 
 be a hidden meaning lurking in the seeming simplicity 
 of those words ? The thought filled him with a joy as 
 wild and piercing as ever thrilled the heart of Aucassin. 
 He too had been imprisoned, ah, yes ! and freed 
 again, thank God! Was she like Nicolete, a- waiting 
 him at the place " where seven roads meet " ? His 
 pulses were bounding furiously. He dared not look 
 at her now. All the deep and desperate passion of the 
 antique tale, all its pathos and poetry, its sweetness 
 and fidelity, seemed to him to live once more in im- 
 mortal freshness through the mighty love he bore her, 
 which, he knew, was but a new manifestation of an 
 old, perennial force, still existent, still vital, in spite of 
 all our twentieth-century convention. Obediently he 
 turned the pages, reading snatches here and there, 
 bringing before them the perfect picture the gloom 
 of the ancient forest, with its perils of wild beast and 
 of the darkness, the flash of the spring sunlight, the 
 singing of birds, and the splash of the fountain; and 
 then the description of the meeting with the shepherd 
 boys, with its delicious note of drollery, so quaint and 
 real that one seems to hear, as Walter Pater says of it, 
 " the faint, far-off laughter still." Then he closed the 
 book, reciting dreamily: 
 
 430
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 "Where smooth the Southern waters run 
 
 Through rustling leagues of poplars gray, 
 Beneath a veiled soft Southern sun, 
 
 We wandered out of yesterday; 
 
 Went Maying in that ancient May 
 Whose fallen flowers are fragrant yet, 
 
 And lingered by the fountain spray 
 With Aucassin and Nicolete." 
 
 " I am so glad you stopped there," she said, presently, 
 letting her embroidery fall into her lap, and sitting 
 with her hands clasped, looking away into the distance 
 with a certain sweetly grave, wistful look in her eyes 
 that he had often seen there, and that always seemed 
 to him to be seeking to penetrate so much further into 
 the mysteries than most persons ever care to go. " To 
 me the story always ends with the meeting between 
 the two under the quiet stars in the ' lodge of green.' " 
 
 "Yet it is something to know that the old tale 
 arrives at last at the completest of human fulfilments, 
 don't you think it is, in spite of all the trials that fol- 
 lowed even after he had found her ? " 
 
 His voice sounded a trifle unsteady, and he raised 
 himself and sat looking at her with eager, shining eyes. 
 
 Something in his look, his manner, finding her for 
 an instant off-guard seemed to shake her self-control. 
 There was a little break in her voice when she spoke. 
 
 "The trials only made them love each other the 
 more; I didn't quite mean that." 
 
 431
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 "You meant?" 
 
 He reached over with one hand for the upper round 
 of the bench and drew himself quite close to her. 
 " You meant ? " he repeated, devouring her with his 
 eyes, as he looked up into her face, ardently, yet 
 reverently, as a man might gaze at a star, " won't you 
 tell me what you meant?" 
 
 " It doesn't matter." 
 
 " Oh, but I do so much want to know. I wish you 
 would tell me." 
 
 There came a slight coldness into her voice, and she 
 looked away from him. 
 
 " I only meant that that in having found each 
 other after realizing all that each was willing to undergo 
 for the other, they had the most perfect fulfilment 
 already, and that nothing else that could possibly 
 happen afterwards to either of them could make any 
 difference whatever." 
 
 The words were intensely passionate, yet the tone 
 was formal. She had suddenly paled, and she drew 
 back from his nearness with something like a protest 
 and a reminder. 
 
 Hurt and uncertain he moved away a little, and lay 
 resting his chin on his elbow, thinking hard. He was 
 beginning to believe that in all she had said to him 
 there was an underlying symbolism of which the 
 tale had merely offered opportunity; and out of the 
 
 432
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 chaos of thought and feeling that followed upon a 
 sudden sharp conviction that all at once took posses- 
 sion of him, only one thing stood out with overwhelm- 
 ingly startling significance, and that was that she was a 
 woman in love but not with him. That under all 
 her fineness and delicacy there were tremendous 
 powers of feeling intensified by the exquisite purity 
 of her nature, and that, though the spiritual element 
 prevailed in her to the exclusion of everything that 
 characterized the grosser order of being, she was "yet 
 human at the red ripe of the heart," he had not doubted 
 for an instant. He knew that if she loved a man she 
 would love him with a tenderness and an abandon 
 that would have its root in a depth of feeling that could 
 endure all things, and that would be as deathless as the 
 love they had just been reading about. And that she 
 did love some one in just that way, he now believed. 
 
 Up to this moment the thought had been suspicion 
 merely now it had become certainty. He could 
 not have given any clear and satisfactory reason for 
 this conclusion. Yet he was quite sure. 
 
 He lay perfectly still, as still as if the stroke that 
 had felled him had been straight between the eyes, 
 bringing immediate unconsciousness; and the whole 
 earth grew dark, and his face reflected his anguish in 
 a sort of dull red that overspread his features as from 
 a physical blow. 
 
 433
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Several moments passed. He did not once speak, 
 and he seemed to be even forgetful of her presence, 
 wrapped in the profound isolation that follows upon a 
 great grief. 
 
 She sat watching him, motionless, silent, yet with 
 her eyes riveted upon his face, and with an expres- 
 sion that wavered and then grew definite. And 
 by and by as she gazed upon him lying dumb and 
 stricken at her feet, his strong young frame in its 
 momentary helplessness making the appeal which de- 
 feated manhood that has gone down nobly ever 
 makes to the woman who is by nature intensely 
 womanly, there swept over her features a great tender- 
 ness that drove the barriers she had set up headlong 
 before it as a mighty torrent beats down bridge and 
 parapet. 
 
 She made a slight movement, and he turned. A 
 low cry broke from him, for the look in her eyes was 
 the same, only this time deeper, surer, and more 
 infinite, as that, wondering, he had seen in them when 
 she had stood looking down upon him believing him 
 to be sleeping. 
 
 He started to spring to his feet, then another im- 
 pulse superseded the first one, and kneeling, he reached 
 out his hands and clasped hers lying folded in her lap, 
 and bent down his head upon them. " Oh, Sibyl 
 Sibyl!" he said, and then there was a silence between 
 
 434
 
 AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE 
 
 them while she could hear the deep breaths that 
 shook him like sobs. 
 
 All at once he raised his head and looked into her 
 eyes, as if seeking still further reassurance. But as 
 he reached out his arms to her, she put them from her. 
 Then leaning over him until her warm breath swept 
 his brow she softly spoke the words that made all 
 things clear to him. "Not yet," she whispered, 
 " not yet dear, some day ! " And an instant after- 
 wards she was gone. 
 
 435
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 As day by day and week by week there came to him 
 a surer knowledge that she loved him, the wonder of 
 the thing grew with his increase of certainty. Every 
 hour that he spent with her but revealed her in. some 
 new light that appealed to his heart or his imagina- 
 tion; and in exploring those secret and marvelous 
 depths wherein, like a jewel hidden from common 
 sight, a woman's soul lies sleeping, awaiting the dis- 
 coverer, there awoke in him, with the great over- 
 mastering love which from that time on possessed 
 him with a force that was startling even to himself, 
 such a sense of her sweetness and nonnalness, and 
 largeness of attitude toward life, that he felt himself 
 gradually being led up to heights which thus far he 
 had only dimly discerned as distant mountain peaks, 
 heights of thought as well as of feeling. For she had 
 pondered much in that aloneness of the spirit which 
 both her love for him begun as he now knew be- 
 fore he had ever seen or heard of Marian and the 
 
 436
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 peculiar circumstances of her life had engendered; so 
 that she was, in a far broader sense than most persons 
 are able to be, an inspiration as well as a woman pro- 
 foundly adored. There was in her nature a perfect 
 adjustment between its dual parts that enabled her 
 to respond to the healthful humanness of his devotion 
 for her, yet there was a serenity also that supplied a 
 fine ballast to his native impetuosity. 
 
 He wanted to be married at once the next month, 
 
 
 
 the next week even, as he half laughing, yet with an 
 eagerness that was in part serious, demanded, for 
 after the revelation in the garden he forced the climax, 
 and she was no longer able to resist him. But on the 
 point of an early marriage she was firm, and for the 
 sake of convention it was finally agreed that the wed- 
 ding should not take place until the following April, 
 and that their engagement should be kept secret from 
 every one save her father. 
 
 With the coming of the autumn and the awakening 
 of the old town to renewed business activity and to 
 the sort of spasmodic social revival that is its nearest 
 attempt at gaiety, Roger suffered a pang or two. 
 She was not greatly interested, he knew, in the things 
 that made up the life of the average girl about her, 
 and yet it was by no means with entire satisfaction 
 that he saw one or another young man of his acquaint- 
 ance attempting to bear her off quite before his eyes, 
 
 437
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 and all with that lofty air of proprietorship which 
 seemed to him to be commendable in one alone. He 
 well knew that he had little to fear from any of them, 
 and that she was divinely his. He trusted her to the 
 very utmost, for he was sure that fickleness did not 
 form even a little part of her character. Yet he wanted 
 her all for himself; and he would have liked to devise 
 some sort of bower of seclusion for her in which she 
 should exist solely for him (with perhaps a word or 
 two daily with her father, as a great concession) and 
 where no other man might ever dare to penetrate to 
 gaze upon her loveliness upon penalty of death. 
 
 But this was a very minor grievance, and he had no 
 other. How gloriously, how preeminently happy he 
 was! And what a dreamer! Life led by way of a 
 secret, winding, golden stairway straight up to the 
 palace of the stars those silent, brooding stars that 
 so often had seemed to mock him. Now they were so 
 kind; and God was in His heaven, and the world was 
 swinging along at such a mad, delicious gait that, with 
 that swift surrender to new conditions and to the 
 intensity of the present which is a characteristic of 
 persons of his temperament, he felt himself to be 
 removed by centuries from the past and all the horror 
 that he had but recently passed through. Not that 
 the marks of his suffering were not upon him still. 
 There were times when Sibyl's eyes would fill with 
 
 438
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 tears as she would sit studying him when he was 
 unconscious of her scrutiny, for the furrows, outward 
 as well as inward, wrought by woe were too deep to 
 vanish speedily. Yet he was young enough, through 
 the medium of a great joy, to recover much of his lost 
 enthusiasm. Thus the autumn passed and the first 
 months of the winter. 
 
 In February he was called to New York on an errand 
 of business. His consideration had been asked of an 
 offer for a piece of property in a once worthless part of 
 the city which half a century before his grandfather 
 had taken in part payment of a bad debt, never ex- 
 pecting to realize more than a pittance out of it. The 
 property had become valuable, and as a result of his 
 visit he was returning home at the end of a week the 
 wealthier by more than a hundred thousand dollars. 
 Everything seemed coming his way. 
 
 When the train rolled into the familiar station back 
 of the Phrenix Hotel at Lexington, he was standing on 
 the platform, and he was the first man to descend from 
 it. His face was eagerly joyous, and he strode along 
 up the street past the hurrying crowd of travelers 
 and the shrieks of omnibus drivers and cabmen with 
 such vigor of step, such splendor of health and hope 
 in his whole being, that strangers passing now and 
 then turned to throw a second glance at the slim, 
 elegant young figure, with its air of kindliness and of 
 
 439
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 distinction. It was half -past five, and a chilling, dismal, 
 rainy afternoon. A driving wind blew particles of ice 
 and snow into his face and the ground was becoming 
 slippery. At the corner he boarded a car, remaining 
 standing, however, outside, in order that he might get 
 off the quicker. The sleet was clinging to his overcoat 
 and his face was stung by the keen little arrows that 
 flew with every gust; but he was unconscious of every- 
 thing save that in five or ten minutes more he should 
 be looking into the eyes of the woman he loved. 
 
 As he sprang from the car in front of his home a 
 graceful figure in a long blue cloak, holding an um- 
 brella slightly downward to break the force of the 
 wind, darted past the gateway. It was quite dark, 
 and the girl was evidently disturbed at being out so 
 late, for she hurried with the fleetness of a deer onward. 
 He had not even a glimpse of her face, but something 
 in her gait and aspect made his heart leap. 
 
 He stood an instant uncertain, looking after her. 
 Then a light overspread his features. There could be 
 no mistaking that spirited outline and movement. 
 With an exultant smile and a sudden bounding of the 
 pulses he sped after her. 
 
 But at the sound of his footsteps, that gained every 
 instant, and evidently with intention, upon her, the 
 girl only walked the faster, and he had not succeeded 
 in overtaking her until, with a little troubled glance 
 
 440
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 around, she had reached her own gate, and was fum- 
 bling a trifle nervously with the latch. Then she turned 
 her head, and before she could speak or move he had 
 dropped his umbrella and his valise, grasped with one 
 hand the umbrella she held, and with the other had 
 clasped her close, while his kisses fell hot and fast on 
 the lovely upturned face. 
 
 " Well, of all the impudence ! " he exclaimed when he 
 raised his head at last, "running away from me like 
 that!" 
 
 "Do hold the umbrella a little lower, dear. Think 
 how horrible it would be if any one should see us! 
 There!" 
 
 She was trembling from the unexpected joy of seeing 
 him, and there was a little tearful catch in her voice, 
 part of fright and part of happiness. 
 
 " If I hold it any lower I shall surely have to kiss you 
 again," he threatened; "it will be only a natural con- 
 sequence. Now tell me what you ran away from me 
 for. You ought to have known it was I. I couldn't 
 be near you and not know it." 
 
 " I wasn't running away from you I was running 
 away from a highway robber, and I was clutching my 
 poor little pocket-book that has just three cents in it 
 tightly. It was because I found when I opened it that 
 it was three cents instead of five that I had to walk." 
 
 He bent over her, and there came a great tenderness 
 441
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 into his eyes. " Well," he said, gravely, at length, " you 
 were running from a highway robber, after all, a robber 
 that demands the sweetest and most precious thing 
 that ever passed down any highway since the world 
 
 Then he reached down and picked up his belongings, 
 and opened the gate for her, and together they passed 
 through, walking slowly under the one umbrella, and 
 as unmindful of the cold and sleet as if it were the 
 balmiest day of May. 
 
 "I wasn't looking for you this evening," said Sibyl, 
 presently, and with a sort of hush in her voice as if 
 she stood just a little in awe of her own happiness 
 and so must treat it reverently. "Your letters said 
 always Wednesday." 
 
 "I know," he answered, "but by hurrying about 
 like mad and forcing those fellows to terms I was able 
 to gain a good twenty-four hours, and I knew what 
 those twenty-four hours would mean to us, for already 
 I felt as if I had been gone a year. Sometimes I 
 almost hated that money for taking me away from 
 you." 
 
 "The money?" she asked, vaguely. Then she 
 dropped his arm and broke into a laugh as they reached 
 the steps. "Oh," she cried, "I had forgotten all 
 about the money. So you sold the property, did you ? 
 Somehow I can't care an earthly thing about it 
 
 442
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 not as much as I ought to care really, for together we 
 should be able to do so much good with it. What 
 did they give you ? " 
 
 "One hundred and three thousand dollars," he 
 answered, simply. 
 
 She walked slowly up the steps, deliberating. When 
 they had reached the top she stood a moment looking 
 deep into his eyes. " And I wouldn't give," she said, 
 very quietly at length, "one of the letters you sent me 
 while you were gone for the last cent of it to say 
 nothing of your valentine. Who taught you to be 
 such a poet the birds out in my garden ? " 
 
 His arms were about her again and his heart was 
 beating wildly under the deep feeling that her im- 
 passioned words awoke. " Yes and you ! Sweet- 
 heart, did you actually miss me as much as your 
 letters said?" he demanded, low under his breath; 
 and then, before she could answer him, a sudden 
 tremor seized him. "Dearest," he whispered, "do 
 you realize that it is just six weeks from to-day before 
 the first of April?" 
 
 She would not reply for a moment, and though he 
 felt the start she gave at his words as he held her 
 firmly, when she spoke it was with a shy, womanly 
 parrying. 
 
 " The first of April ? " she said, with a soft, teasing 
 laughter. "What on earth is going to happen on 
 
 443
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 the first of April ? " It is the day for all sorts of silly 
 pranks. Have you any particular one in prospect?" 
 
 " Then we shall be married on the second if you are 
 superstitious. I have a mind above such weakness." 
 
 "On Sunday?" She was still laughing slyly to 
 herself at his seriousness. "That will be the second 
 of April." 
 
 "On Saturday, then. You said the first of April." 
 
 All at once she reached up her arms and drew his 
 face down to hers, clasping it in both her hands, while 
 her eyes searched deep into those furthermost recesses 
 where none but her had ever wandered the sacred 
 penetralia of the soul. Then, with a long-drawn 
 breath of satisfaction, as if she had found there nothing 
 to trouble, nothing to frighten her, she said, solemnly, 
 and with a little nestling movement against his shoulder, 
 "Dear, it shall be when you wish; and whether that be 
 on Saturday, or Sunday, or Monday, it will be my 
 day of days; and I give you myself, all of me, every 
 heart throb, every brain throb, every high impulse, 
 every true aspiration, my hopes, and my dreams, my 
 sorrows and my tears all, body, mind, and spirit, 
 I give to you, now, and forever and ever." 
 
 He could not speak. Moved to the very heart's 
 center, he could find no words with which to voice 
 the emotion stirring within him. A mist gathered in 
 his eyes, and he bowed his head in a silence that was 
 
 444
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 rapt and reverential. No other moment of his ac- 
 quaintance with her was so sacred or so beautiful 
 not even the moment of their betrothal, and he was 
 able to see in it all its deep and touching significance: 
 the completeness of her surrender, the exquisite trust 
 and tenderness with which she relinquished her girl- 
 hood and in anticipation already sought to enter upon 
 the larger womanhood to which his love had summoned 
 her. As he held her thus in his arms, from his heart 
 there went up the purest prayer his lips had ever 
 uttered for grace to be worthy of her, that together 
 they might go onward in that existence of the spirit 
 of which he had had the clearest revelation through 
 her, and that he might have her with him all the days 
 of his life. And then, as a sudden terror of loss, that 
 ever-present foreboding, the reminder of man's mor- 
 tality, intruded, as it does inevitably when happiness 
 seems surest, a wave of passionate fear swept over 
 him and he strained her almost fiercely to his heart. 
 " My love my love ! " he whispered, fervently, " God 
 keep you, and give you to me always!" and releasing 
 her, he turned quickly and disappeared in the darkness. 
 
 He had dined and was sitting in his library glancing 
 over the stack of letters on the table, the accumulation 
 of the ten days' absence, when the shock came. He 
 had just read the last letter, and was feeling a sense of 
 
 445
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 relief on getting through with all of them, being eager 
 to return to Sibyl, when James entered with a 
 telegram. 
 
 He took the little yellow envelope into his hand with 
 a careless jest over his shoulder, and then as the ser- 
 vant left the room, still smiling, and thinking of Sibyl, 
 he tore it open. He read these words: 
 
 "GRAND HOTEL, Cincinnati, Ohio, February 15. 
 " I am ill and desperate. I need you. Don't refuse. 
 Come to me. 
 
 " MARIAN." 
 
 He sat for a few moments, staring with a sort of 
 sinister gleam in his eyes, clutching the thin sheet of 
 paper in his hand, and with the smile on his features 
 suddenly become frozen and ghastly. All at once he 
 sprang up, standing tall and still in the center of the 
 room. Then with a slow and courteous questioning 
 his gaze wandered from one to another of the old 
 portraits on the walls. A piece of wood on the fire 
 rolled out on the hearth, and he carefully reached for 
 the tongs and readjusted it, lingering about the task. 
 Then he returned to the great high-backed chair in 
 which his grandfather used to sit, and suddenly he 
 threw back his head, and a harsh, discordant laughter 
 echoed through the room. "Alive alive ha, alive!" 
 he kept muttering to himself like a half -crazed old man 
 under his breath. "But there was some mistake," 
 
 446
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 and once more that terrible, hideous laughter rang out 
 a laughter to curdle the blood in one's veins and 
 that strange muttering began again, "a mistake, yes, 
 a mistake! Marian was dead, burned, burned to a 
 crisp in the London theater. How horrible to hear one's 
 flesh sizzling like a crackling! But Marian was dead, 
 quite dead, dead as a door-nail, whatever that might 
 be. Oh, yes, he knew; he had once looked up the 
 phrase in a dictionary. He liked to run things down 
 till he knew all about them. Excellent habit, of course. 
 Gives a man a sort of fund to draw on when he needs 
 it. Once in court " 
 
 He stopped short. What what was it that had 
 happened? He could not think except in short, dis- 
 jointed sentences, and the last thought would drive 
 out the one that preceded it, so that he was confused 
 and troubled, and piteous in his helplessness. A 
 strange indifference was stealing over him. He sprang 
 up again and began to move up and down the room 
 in order to fight off the lethargy. But it was necessary 
 that he should consider something was required of 
 him, a decision, action. His eyes fell on the telegram 
 spread out on the table. He paused. With every tick 
 of the clock its meaning became clearer. Slowly his 
 brain returned to its normal action; and as the full 
 purport penetrated him of this last blow, the thought 
 of Sibyl came bearing down upon him like an avalanche, 
 
 447
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 and he lifted his arm and swore, "I will not by 
 Heaven, I will not give her up ! " 
 
 And this solemn, defiant determination was the one 
 thing his mind would dwell upon. He would not be 
 checkmated in the game of life. He would not be 
 made a prisoner when a way of escape was still open 
 to him. He would get a divorce. The law of God 
 and man would give him the freedom he craved. His 
 whole being rose up in rebellion against the insult his 
 destiny seemed to be offering to him, and he refused 
 to take any but the natural, elementary view by which 
 most men similarly situated would have been controlled. 
 Gone now was the strong, sure grasp upon the larger 
 things of life to which through suffering and the slow 
 process of evolution he had seemed to reach as a 
 result of that highest stage in personal development 
 which is attained at last through the workings of the 
 mysterious trinity the physical, then the physical 
 united to the mental, and finally the harmonious 
 blending of the physical, the mental, and the spiritual. 
 
 Step by step he went over from the beginning the 
 various degrees that marked his acquaintance with the 
 woman who had brought only woe and disgrace and 
 desolation upon him, and who now in this last daring 
 revelation of herself seemed but to complete the tragedy 
 whose forces had been set in motion on the day when 
 he asked her to be his wife. Then his thoughts turned 
 
 448
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 to the mistaken idea of honor that had held him to a 
 compact which could only be fulfilled by the breaking 
 of a higher law, the law that forbids a loveless mar- 
 riage; and like one running a race with conscience he 
 hurried on into that perplexed period that followed 
 upon her desertion of him when the moral sense within 
 him, rendered more acute by the profundity of his 
 sorrows, compelled him finally to wave the individual 
 privilege that would have given him back his freedom 
 for the sake of the obligation he felt toward society 
 an obligation that had forbidden him to seek for a 
 divorce, in view of present evils. 
 
 But though he had passed speedily out of the first 
 stage the stage of the physical, until his great love 
 for Sibyl was allowed to blossom into the perfect flower 
 it was, he was simply developed as yet toward the 
 mental, his attitude in relation to the situation being 
 purely an intellectual one, and his point of view that 
 of a conventional morality. Up to that time he had 
 been able to discern the sanctity of the marriage bond, 
 but not in its deepest meaning the sanctity of the 
 marriage relation; and this last conception, which had 
 belonged to the third stage the dawn of the spiritual 
 the coming of Sibyl had rushed upon him in all 
 its sweetness and vastness of significance with the love 
 of her, and then for the first time he had apprehended 
 in its fulness that a marriage contract does not make 
 
 449
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 a marriage, and that the sanctity and purity of the 
 relation depend upon the attitude of soul of the two 
 persons concerned in it. 
 
 Day by day this conception had strengthened through 
 the spiritual soundness of the love that existed between 
 himself and Sibyl. Soul and sense were one through 
 the right of a mutual harmony of being; and to-night, 
 in his excruciating agony and bitterness, he cried out 
 in rebellion against the stern Nemesis that had tracked 
 him up to the very verge of his happiness. By subtle 
 sophistries he sought to deceive himself into the belief 
 that the still face confronting him was not the face of 
 retributive justice; and he thought of his duty to Sibyl. 
 How could he what right would he now have, even 
 if he wished it But he could not yet even consider 
 the torture of giving her up. He would free himself, 
 and then he would come back to her, and then 
 
 But Sibyl ? What would be her answer to all this ? 
 He dared not think. Yet gradually as he grappled 
 with this, the hardest problem that had ever con- 
 fronted him, there came a strange stillness to his pulses, 
 a stillness as of death, and his face blanched. Some- 
 way, somehow, the problem had solved itself! For 
 the trait of impetuosity which was on the surface 
 most pronounced in his composition was really tem- 
 peramental and not a part of his character. His 
 dominating characteristic was an impulse toward 
 
 450
 
 THE GODS ARE JUST 
 
 truth and honor, else he would have sunk rather than 
 risen in the midst of the circumstances in which he 
 had become entangled; and he saw as see all thought- 
 ful persons who are in harmony with the ideas of this 
 great era we belong to, an era of scientific enlighten- 
 ment and yet of highest spiritual development that 
 God works in and through his own natural laws, that 
 he does not sit afar off in the heavens and arbitrarily 
 punish those who do not honor him with obedience. 
 For God who is love manifests the perfection of his 
 love through the steadfastness of his laws, and he 
 realized that the tragedy that had come upon him was 
 a direct consequence of his own sin just as all 
 tragedy is the result of sin of a more or less vital nature 
 working surely to its own logical ends. 
 
 The temptation he had yielded to on the afternoon 
 of that fatal drive with Marian would have seemed 
 to some men a small one to set in motion the relentless 
 wheels of tragedy, yet to Roger, accustomed to probe 
 deeper than most into fundamental principles, know- 
 ing that when the normal, healthful feelings of life 
 are perverted or defied the forces of tragedy are in- 
 evitably aroused, the recognition now came with a 
 profound awe and self-abasement that the gods are 
 just and of our pleasant vices make instruments to 
 scourge us. He bowed his head. 
 
 Slowly the moments sank into hours. The wood 
 451
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 fire on the hearth burned low. And so alone with 
 the reality of Sin, Roger came face to face with the 
 mysteries, and learned that greatest of truths which 
 the process of time has unfolded to man " All's love, 
 yet all's law." While uplifting him, comforting him, 
 there came to his soul something of the sublime and 
 lovely vision which in these lines Browning attributes 
 to the young David when, seeking to drive out the 
 evil spirit from Saul, he mounts to a clear apprehen- 
 sion of the uses of life: 
 
 " And thus looking within and around me, I ever renew 
 (With that stoop of the soul which in bending upraises it too) 
 The submission of man's nothing-perfect to God's all-complete, 
 As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to his feet." 
 
 452
 
 ROGER AND SIBYL 
 
 HE was aroused finally by the large clock on the 
 stairway sounding the hour of eleven, the slow, full 
 strokes echoing hollowly through the silent house, 
 and falling upon his ear like a solemn summons to 
 duty. He started up and looked around him with a 
 sort of dull wonderment in his eyes, just as if he were 
 returning at the end of a lifetime, old, and broken, 
 and weary, and half expected to see in material things 
 also some manifestation answering to the change 
 within himself. That but little more than three 
 hours before he had entered that room in all the gra- 
 cious floodtide of youth and love seemed a thing past 
 belief; and it was with a grim sense of approbation 
 that his glance fell upon the charred bits of wood 
 lying amid heaps of ashes on the hearth, and he realized 
 that the last spark of fire had died out, and that the 
 room had grown as cold and vault-like as if it were in 
 reality the tomb it symbolized. For here he had buried 
 all his joy, and with it his youth forever. 
 
 453
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Presently he rose and crossed the room a trifle 
 stiffly, feeling a chill and heaviness upon him that 
 robbed his movements of their usual aliveness. He 
 drew back the window curtains. The lights still 
 burned in his neighbor's house. His gaze traveled 
 from the library, where doubtless the judge sat ab- 
 sorbed in the history, to the little room beyond, which 
 Sibyl had had fitted up as her own particular abode, 
 only a very favored few ever being received in it, and 
 in which her lovely presence had always seemed to 
 him to shine like a jewel in its proper setting. Was 
 she there now still waiting for him, in the soft glow 
 from shaded lights, with her books or her embroidery, 
 or better still her own thoughts? 
 
 Then he came back into the center of the room. 
 For a moment he stood in deep thought, with bowed 
 head, and hands tightly clenched, as if meditating the 
 hard, immediate plunge his brain proposed. All at 
 once he reached for the telegram on the table, and an 
 instant afterward the hall door opened and closed 
 softly, and he passed out into the night. 
 
 He went round the corner of the house, crossed 
 quickly the intervening space, and approached the 
 judge's house by the rear. The servants were still 
 laughing and -talking in the kitchen, and from that he 
 concluded that the final securing of bolts and locks 
 for the night had possibly not yet been accomplished. 
 
 454
 
 ROGER AND SIBYL 
 
 He hoped that the little glass door at the end of the 
 hall that led by a flight of steps into the garden had 
 been overlooked. He turned the knob. The door 
 yielded, and he entered the dimly lighted passage. 
 
 It was but a few steps to her door, yet his feet dragged 
 so slowly that the short distance seemed lengthened 
 into furlongs. Even with his hand on the panel he 
 hesitated. Should he tell her to-night? Might they 
 not have five or ten flawless moments together, the 
 shadow driven back and defied, the agony of the past 
 three hours forgotten? For a moment he grappled 
 with his temptation the longing to hold her, unsus- 
 pecting of the blight that had fallen upon their young 
 love, close, ever closer in his arms, to stifle her with 
 his kisses when wondering, but never doubting, she 
 should seek to know the reason for his long delay in 
 coming, to feel again the warmth and sweetness of her 
 caress, the exquisite yielding of her whole being to his. 
 Then his features grew stern and resolute. A pallor 
 followed upon the momentary glow. He knocked 
 softly. 
 
 As in a dream he heard her low voice bidding him 
 to enter, and as one who moves scarcely of his own 
 volition he came into the room and stood tall and still 
 beside her. 
 
 She was sitting with her hands clasped in her lap in a 
 chair drawn up quite close to the fire, and her expression 
 
 455
 
 was rapt and thoughtful, luminous in that tender 
 effulgence that shines like a glory about a woman's 
 face when alone she gives herself up to unrestrained 
 adoration of the man she loves. All her soul was in 
 her eyes, and in her whole attitude there was the peace 
 and poise that suggest a nature profoundly womanly 
 and profoundly strong. As if conscious of the light 
 that had but lately been upon it, she kept her face 
 averted and, supposing him to be a servant, without 
 turning her head she gave some simple household 
 direction. 
 
 But something in the stillness of the near-by figure 
 wrought strangely upon her senses. She looked up 
 quickly, and at the first glimpse of him she uttered a 
 low, glad cry and sprang to her feet. An instant after- 
 ward her face changed, and the color in her cheeks 
 fled. She reached forth startled, appealing arms, and 
 then, as he neither moved nor spoke, her eyes grew 
 wide with horror, and with a wild entreaty became 
 riveted on his face. She could not get her breath, and 
 her knees were trembling. She grasped the back of 
 the chair and waited. Her lips moved, but some trance- 
 like spell held her, and she was unable to speak a word. 
 And then, her vague terror becoming definite, all at 
 once she started toward the doorway. 
 
 "My father!" she gasped. 
 
 But he intercepted her progress, moving quickly 
 456
 
 ROGER AND SIBYL 
 
 toward the door, and standing with his back against 
 it. 
 
 " It is not your father," he said in a voice that fell 
 strangely on her ear. "I have no bad news to bring 
 you of him, thank God. What I have come to tell 
 you concerns myself and you and one other." 
 
 The tone was as still and as aloof as if every vestige 
 of feeling had died in him, and if one could imagine a 
 corpse speaking it would be with some such dull and 
 lifeless accent. 
 
 Helpless, she stood searching his white, cold face. 
 She took a step nearer. 
 
 " What what is it ? " she whispered, huskily. " Oh, 
 dear, dearest, can't you see that you are breaking my 
 heart?" 
 
 Up to that moment he had kept his eyes determinedly 
 from her, but at the ring of torture that sounded in her 
 words, he turned a swift, pitiful glance upon her, and 
 a sudden shiver swept through him. But in a moment 
 he had steeled himself again; and with the change in 
 him there came also a change in her. 
 
 She saw the tremendous effort at restraint he was 
 putting upon himself, the tenseness of muscle, the 
 death-like calm. Concealing her own agitation by a 
 superb summoning of composure, she wheeled a chair 
 for him up before the fire, and as soothingly as if she 
 were speaking to a little troubled child asked him to 
 
 457
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 sit down. She was smiling softly when she seated 
 herself in a low chair beside him, and there was in her 
 manner a complete ignoring of all evil just as if 
 there were in his love for her such a mighty shield, 
 such an all-encircling and sure defense, it was not 
 possible for her really to fear anything. She leaned 
 toward him and with her eyes still searching his face 
 rested her clasped hands on his knee. Once more her 
 face was serene and very beautiful in its perfect trust- 
 fulness. 
 
 " Now, dear, what is it ? " she asked. 
 
 At her touch he drew back as if she had struck him, 
 and his frame shook as from an ague. His eyes met 
 hers for an instant, and turned miserably toward the 
 fire. He could not speak. Her hand closed softly 
 over his. "Dear," she whispered, "dear!" 
 
 But he shook himself almost roughly free from her, 
 and pushed his chair away. 
 
 She looked up inexpressibly startled. Had she been 
 a woman with a shade less of pride she would have 
 suffered acutely under his repulse. But her self- 
 respect was of a kind to sustain her though the shock 
 was great. Mute and spellbound her eyes still searched 
 his face, finding no answer. 
 
 He still sat wrapped in that strange, impenetrable 
 gloom from which no word nor caress of hers could 
 rouse him, his face haggard and drawn, his eyes glassy 
 
 458
 
 ROGER AND SIBYL 
 
 and unseeing, while his whole personality seemed to be 
 slowly receding from her. She thought of him as he 
 had been but a few hours before as he had been in 
 those impassioned, boyish letters he had sent her from 
 New York, when, no matter what he had set out to 
 say, he was very apt to end every other sentence with 
 the repetition " I love you I love you ! " How those 
 three words had leaped and flashed over the closely 
 written pages until the entire letter seemed aflame with 
 them! "Darling, I have never been away from you 
 for one hour I love you ! " he had said in the last 
 one, " I take you with me everywhere. I see you I 
 hear you I hold you in my arms I Love You ! " 
 resorting at last to capitals through an evident mistrust 
 of anything less emphatic to express him. How 
 irresistibly fascinating he had been! 
 
 She gave a sudden gasp, and her face paled. But 
 she sat perfectly still, waiting until he should speak. 
 A sort of wide patience and comprehension rendered 
 her very quiet, but she was suffering intensely again, 
 and as his eyes returned once more to hers, a stifled 
 groan broke from him. Then, turning his face away 
 that he might not see the desolation that he was about 
 to make, without a word he handed her the telegram. 
 
 In silence she took it into her hands. In silence she 
 read it. For the space of several minutes the little 
 room was as noiseless as a crypt. He could not bring 
 
 459
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 himself to look at her, dreading the effect of the blight 
 upon her soft loveliness, and feeling himself as power- 
 less and as despairing as a bankrupt husbandman in 
 the presence of the devastating forces that are destined 
 to destroy his harvest. No sweeter flower of hope had 
 ever blossomed for any man, and just as his hand was 
 reaching for the perfect fruit with a sudden madness 
 in the brain he sprang up and began to pace up and 
 down the narrow space of the apartment. Finally he 
 paused, and at last with an effort turned toward her. 
 
 A swift alarm pierced him like a spear. Had she 
 fainted, he asked himself quickly, as he knelt beside 
 her. Her head was resting against the back of the 
 chair and her eyes were closed. One arm hung limply 
 at her side, and the telegram had fallen from her hand 
 and had caught in the flounce of lace on her skirt. 
 Every vestige of color had retreated from her face, 
 and she was like marble in her whiteness and stillness. 
 He grasped her hand. It was cold as the hand of the 
 dead. She did not seem to breathe. 
 
 "Sibyl, for God's sake speak to me!" he cried, 
 "speak to me!" 
 
 For an instant she did not stir, and in a panic he 
 bent over her. Then a long-drawn sigh like the quiv- 
 ering and shudder of an aspen when the wind passes 
 over it shook her, and slowly the waxen lids were 
 raised. She did not move, and with her head still 
 
 460
 
 ROGER AND SIBYL 
 
 leaning against the back of the chair her eyes rested 
 on his agonized face. A moment freighted with 
 eternity passed. 
 
 "You you will go to her," she said, at length, still 
 studying him with a concentration of scrutiny to which 
 all her vital powers seemed to lend themselves. 
 
 He bowed his head and rose. But his lips were 
 sealed. 
 
 She searched his face with desperate eagerness. 
 Once more it was unrevealing as granite. Her breath 
 came ragged and torn. She was trembling from head 
 to foot. 
 
 "You will go to her?" she repeated, with a sob in 
 her voice and a frantic questioning in her eyes. 
 
 He paused, helpless, before her. Then he looked 
 quickly away. 
 
 He had begun that dreary march up and down the 
 room again, but at her words he came to a sudden halt. 
 
 "I must go to her," he assented, dully. 
 
 She leaned quickly forward. The pallor had left 
 her face, but a dark, peculiar brilliancy shone in the 
 violet eyes, and there was in her aspect something 
 strange and almost supernatural that made his heart 
 stand still. 
 
 " You will take her back ? " The low, hesi- 
 tating, but thrillingly persuasive voice fell upon his 
 ear, baffling and terrifying him as to her meaning. 
 
 461
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 Once more she looked deep, deep, with that same 
 strained intensity of gaze, into his eyes, to be met this 
 time by a desperate answering inquiry. 
 
 Then he started and came and stood beside her 
 chair; and presently, as if some marvelous light had 
 suddenly shone within her, revealing the soul back of 
 the lovely flesh, his expression changed. His features 
 relaxed, softened, and a calm that was almost majestic 
 in its simplicity seemed to rest upon him. Again their 
 eyes met, and at last he understood. 
 
 " I must take her back," he responded, very softly, 
 " and may God give me grace to do His will ! " 
 
 Her lips moved as in prayer, and a great stillness 
 wrapped her round about as she bowed her head. All 
 at once she rose and held herself at her full height. 
 A new pride and dignity were all about her, and on 
 her face there was a look of exaltation; for the assur- 
 ance she had sought had been borne in upon her, and 
 she knew now that alone he had climbed to that great 
 height from which together, like disembodied spirits, 
 they might look down and survey a mutual sacrifice. 
 Never had he seemed to belong to her so absolutely 
 as in that moment of relinquishment. Never had his 
 love for her, sweet as it had been to her, seemed so 
 much the perfect thing she now knew it to be. A sort 
 of holy joy possessed her, that lifted her away from 
 every thought of the loneliness and sorrow to which 
 
 462
 
 ROGER AND SIBYL 
 
 his decision consigned them both, and set her upon a 
 mountain of transfiguration the sublime summit from 
 which the pure in heart, survey the cross afar and 
 obtain heavenly consolation. 
 
 Throughout that mad whirl of thought and feeling 
 that followed upon chaos, one thing alone stood out 
 after the first delirium of pain caused by his communi- 
 cation had a little subsided a great longing that he 
 should not fail; and it was characteristic of her hi her 
 supreme moment that all other consideration should 
 sink into insignificance beside the hope that he should 
 prove himself faithful to the high standard he had set 
 up, and thus add one more hero to the world. Every 
 impulse leading toward his unhappy marriage she 
 understood and long ago had pardoned as only the 
 nobler and purer order of woman can understand and 
 pardon; every call of honor that had compelled him to 
 yoke his life with one whose inherent nature could 
 only be in continual antagonism to his own; every 
 motive of lofty sacrifice that had constrained him to 
 endure a bondage from which he might have been 
 free, had not a sense of obligation toward his fellows 
 nerved him bravely to endure; every thought and every 
 heart throb that had swayed him she had read as one 
 reads an open page, and in approval, and reverence, 
 and profound devotion her spirit had bowed before 
 the being large enough to do what he had done. But 
 
 463
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 under this last test his character had been subjected to 
 a fiercer heat than that which surrounds a metal in a 
 crucible, and she had waited, breathless. 
 
 She stood beside him now in an awed silence for a 
 moment, and then she came a step nearer and he 
 could feel the soft fluttering of her breath against his 
 cheek as he bent down his head to her. "Dear, it is 
 the end," she said in a voice whose sweetness pierced 
 him through and through, "the end of all our beauti- 
 ful dreams, of all our blissful hours of love. But oh, 
 believe, try to believe that the best of fulfilment 
 already has been ours. Let nothing rob you of that 
 peace. And I I will never forget. Every morning 
 when I wake and look up into the sky and see the same 
 sun shining that made the earth glorious for us, I 
 shall think of you, and I shall know that God's bless- 
 ing is still resting on the world, and that it is for both 
 of us as well as for every tiny blade of grass. And the 
 stars and the moon will tell me that too, and I shall 
 hear it in every breeze; and it will make me strong 
 to wait until He shall give you back to me. The time 
 may not be long. If not in this life, then in some 
 other we shall surely be everything to each other 
 again. Oh, dear, dearest, do not look at me like 
 that!" 
 
 She had been smiling bravely up at him through 
 her tears, but at sight of the agony in his eyes she 
 
 464
 
 ROGER AND SIBYL 
 
 suddenly broke off and put up piteous, imploring 
 hands. He caught them and crushed them in his, 
 and half frightened she drew back from him, tremu- 
 lous and thrilled. A warm crimson swept to her brow, 
 receded, and left her very pale. 
 
 "Please go go quickly," she whispered, huskily. 
 
 For an instant he hesitated, then curbing the mighty 
 wave of passion that swept over him, he dropped her 
 hands and moved away from her. His face was lined 
 and worn under the stress of the terrible struggle he 
 had passed through, and his hands shook. He stood 
 with bowed head before her. But presently he came 
 back to her side, and she saw that he was calm. 
 
 "Good-by," he said, brokenly, yet with a courage 
 that rose to meet her own, "good-by. Nothing 
 nothing can really separate us. Through this life and 
 through all eternity I am yours. These arms that have 
 held you shall hold no other, and the lips that yours 
 have touched shall be sacred to you forever. It may 
 be a lifetime to wait it may be but a matter of a 
 few years. Long or short it will find me the same, 
 unchanged and unchangeable waiting, always wait- 
 ing." 
 
 And then as he took her icy hands in his for an 
 instant, he bent down his lips to them. " God help us, 
 my beloved!" he said. And when she raised her 
 eyes he was gone. 
 
 465
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 
 
 A FEBRUARY sun was struggling to pierce the somber 
 heaviness that overhung the Cincinnati streets as Roger 
 went up the steps of the Grand Hotel on the following 
 morning. It was eleven o'clock, and he had but a 
 few moments before arrived. There had been no 
 dallying with his resolution, and with a steadfastness 
 of conviction that differentiated him widely from 
 many of his type he was without misgivings, though 
 more miserable than most men could endure to be 
 and live. His face was white and set, but he walked 
 with a firm, sure step the step with which nobles 
 marched to the guillotine and in all ages the heroic 
 have moved forward to their doom, hearing ever 
 above earth's clamor the sound of martial music. 
 He had not long to wait, and in less than a quarter of 
 an hour after entering the hotel he was being directed 
 down a long corridor by an attendant who finally 
 paused before a doorway with the laconic remark, 
 "This is the room, sir." 
 
 466
 
 THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 
 
 He knocked, and a voice within responded faintly. 
 He opened the door, closed it softly behind him, and 
 stood only a step beyond the threshold, his eye sweeping 
 the shadowy apartment with a swift, inquiring gaze. 
 
 The room was in the characteristic disarray which 
 he always associated with Marian, and which, even 
 before he had discovered her sitting in a large chair 
 near the window brought her vividly before him. At 
 his entrance, she made a feeble attempt to rise, and 
 then, as if the effort were too much for her, sank back 
 languidly among her cushions, leaning quickly for- 
 ward the next instant and watching his face with a 
 timid, burning look in her eyes. He saw her and 
 came forward. But as his gaze took in the full details 
 of her appearance, he checked an involuntary ex- 
 clamation, and something like horror horror tinc- 
 tured with pity traced itself upon his features. 
 
 In silence he stood before her, shocked beyond 
 measure and almost mistrustful of his senses. That 
 the altered being before him was really Marian seemed 
 a thing incredible. Every hint of the voluptuous 
 beauty that had been hers had vanished ; gone were the 
 tints of rose and pearl, the exquisitely molded form, all 
 the soft allurement of the flesh, and instead a woman 
 bowed and broken, old before her time, and emaciated 
 to a mere shadow, looked up at him out of deep, cavern- 
 ous eyes whose utter misery she made no effort to 
 
 467
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 conceal. Presently she shivered, and drew the fur 
 cape she wore over her loose white wool gown a little 
 closer about her. She broke into a hollow, bitter sort 
 of laugh that fell upon his ears as discordant as would 
 seem the sound of merriment echoing from a charnel- 
 house. 
 
 "Perhaps I should have warned you," she said; 
 "ghosts are somewhat disconcerting." 
 
 " You have been you are still desperately ill," 
 he responded, lamely, keeping his eyes in an unwilling 
 stare riveted upon her face. 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders and turned away a 
 trifle petulantly. 
 
 "Sit down, please." She motioned to a chair 
 opposite her, and he took it mechanically. For several 
 moments she leaned back and closed her eyes as if 
 unconscious of his presence, pushing away with one 
 hand the thin, fading strands about her temples, 
 where the hair had once grown thick and tawny as a 
 lion's mane. With a sense of merciful protection, 
 the desire to shield her from even his own scrutiny, 
 he looked away, and as he did so his glance wandered 
 from the costly fur she wore to the confusion of articles 
 on her dressing-table, some of them very rare and 
 beautiful, and finally rested upon the luxurious bits 
 of feminine apparel scattered here and there which in 
 her carelessness she had neglected to put away. His 
 
 468
 
 THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 
 
 brows contracted under the acuteness of his pain and 
 humiliation, and he sat looking down at the ground 
 waiting for her to speak, but himself unable to utter 
 a word. She opened her eyes. 
 
 "I am ill," she said, as if she were assenting im- 
 mediately to his comment, "and dying, I believe." 
 Her voice was as indifferent and as lifeless as if she 
 were uttering some inanity about the weather or the 
 most tiresome and self-evident of platitudes. "That 
 is why I sent for you. I have a strange thing to pro- 
 pose. I want you " All at once she broke into 
 that same low, bitter, repellent laughter, "I want you 
 to make 'an honest woman' of me again." 
 
 He looked up quickly and his face paled. 
 
 "It is not in my power to do that." 
 
 She leaned toward him with feverish intensity. 
 Her breath came in short gasps. He could see that 
 she was shivering from head to foot, and that she hung 
 upon his answer in a frenzy of apprehension. 
 
 "It is in your power to take me back, isn't it? 
 I am asking you to do that. You you are not 
 married ? " 
 
 The muscles about his mouth hardened. He felt 
 her eyes fixed upon him with a lynx-like penetration. 
 
 "I am not married," he said, at length. 
 
 He would not look at her, but he heard the quick 
 sigh of relief she gave at his words and was conscious 
 
 469
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 of the complete relaxation of muscles with which she 
 received his assurance. 
 
 She toyed with the silken tassel that hung from the 
 heavy cord at her waist. 
 
 "I cannot explain this strange longing I have for 
 respectability," she observed. "It is new with me, 
 and I cannot account for it unless it is something that 
 is universal and that at times every person feels. I 
 used not to. Don't you remember that I told you 
 once that I loathed the ethical ? It was perfectly true. 
 I think I could dare to live my life out in a steady 
 defiance of morality, as long as I should be strong and 
 beautiful and death did not threaten the sort of de- 
 fiance I mean, of course, that I have been guilty of. I 
 don't mean" she looked away, and a faint color crept 
 into her thin cheeks "I don't mean evil in the usual, 
 degraded sense. A great love always dignifies license. 
 There was never any one but him. I don't know that 
 I can make you understand. No one who has not 
 loved as I loved could understand. It was a madness, 
 a fire unquenchable, and before it principle became 
 only a puny thing to be swept down at the very first 
 blast. I know it all sounds horrible to you, but that 
 is only because you have never loved. Let the flame 
 be hot enough, and one person will act precisely as 
 another person; and we are all in one boat, and 
 there's no pilot at the helm," recalling one of Waller's 
 
 470
 
 speeches, and turning her face suddenly away from 
 him. 
 
 He made no effort to combat her with arguments, 
 and presently she began again. The faint glow had 
 faded quickly from her face. Her voice was an old 
 woman's voice, querulous and very wearied. 
 
 "I don't know why, caring as little as I do for a 
 respectable living, I should care so much for a respect- 
 able dying. It may be fear superstition, perhaps. 
 But I do. I prefer to die under the shelter of your 
 protection, your name. It is a good deal to ask, and 
 with most men such a request would be worse than 
 useless. I doubt that there is more than one man in a 
 hundred thousand, wronged as you have been, who 
 would listen to such an appeal for an instant. I be- 
 lieve you are the hundred thousandth. That is why 
 I sent for you. But before you decide anything let 
 me ask you this question: If the case were reversed 
 and you had wronged me as I have wronged you, and 
 you came and asked me to take you back again, 
 wouldn't you expect me to do it?" 
 
 " Doubtless I should." 
 
 " Isn't it what every other man would expect ? " 
 
 " I suppose it is." 
 
 "And haven't I heard you say that you believed 
 that there should be the same standard of morality 
 for men as for women ? " 
 
 471
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 He acknowledged it. She rose and drew back the 
 curtain a little, and then she pulled her chair a little 
 nearer to him and fixed her eyes on his face. The 
 light fell full upon it. She studied him closely. 
 
 "You too have changed," she remarked, quietly. 
 "You look many years older almost as if you had 
 really suffered. I wonder if you have. They say it 
 is only irrational suffering that ages; the rest simply 
 beautifies. At least you have not yet grown ugly as I 
 have. Does vanity ever die in a woman? How it 
 hurts me that you should see me like this ! I had never 
 meant that you should see me again. When I sent 
 you the London newspaper " 
 
 " Did you send me that paper ? " he broke in, harshly. 
 
 She looked him in the eyes. 
 
 "I did. I meant to die to you forever. I wanted 
 to give you back your freedom. I was in the mood to 
 make atonement, for he had just died, and nothing, 
 nothing on earth made any difference to me personally 
 any more." 
 
 " Then he is dead ! " he exclaimed, quickly, turning 
 his shamed and haggard face toward her once more. 
 
 She looked at him wonderingly for an instant, as if 
 she half believed him to be suddenly bereft of his 
 senses. Her lips parted in the old way, and her breath 
 came quickly in little fluttering gasps as it did always 
 when she was under any sort of excitement. All at 
 
 472
 
 THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 
 
 once a swift illumination overspread her features. 
 She quickly dropped her eyes. Then he didn't know. 
 Her story, that all his and Waller's world must be 
 familiar with, in some way had eluded him. A savage 
 elation took possession of her, and she hugged her joy 
 to her breast. It was almost as if in that moment 
 Waller were given back to her. 
 
 "Yes, he is dead," she replied, softly. 
 
 She rose and fumbled again with the window cur- 
 tain, but as Roger stood beside her, she motioned him 
 to be seated, coming back to her chair, having made 
 the room shadowy again. 
 
 " I sent you the paper," she said in a cold, perfectly 
 callous voice, but with something of the old insolent 
 defiance of opinion, as she studied him narrowly from 
 under her half -closed eyelids. "It was strictly true 
 that I was dead; and if it was not an actual, outward 
 fire that had consumed me, but an inward one, what 
 mattered it? I was dead. I wanted to be dead, and 
 I meant to show you one kindness, just one; and the 
 way to do that seemed to be the way I took. I meant, 
 I hope you will believe me, I meant to be dead to you 
 forever. I thought I could keep to that position, and 
 that practically it would be just the same as if the 
 newspaper account were a correct one. I think I could 
 have kept to it if my health had not failed, and this 
 horrible feeling had not grasped me and made me a 
 
 473
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 poor cringing thing eager to make some sort of com- 
 promise with decency at the approach of death." 
 
 He did not answer for a moment, and when he spoke 
 his voice almost startled him by its strangeness. It 
 seemed a thing incredible that he should be thus 
 quietly sitting there listening to such a recital from the 
 woman who had been great God ! who still was 
 his wife. The roar of the city down below, the faint 
 February sunlight struggling in at the windows, the 
 picturesque disorder of the hotel bed-chamber with its 
 oppressive aroma of luxury contributed more by her 
 own belongings than by its appointments were like 
 things seen and heard in that half -sleeping, half -waking 
 state that is the torment of the victim of fever. It was 
 only with a great effort he was able to rouse himself 
 and put the question to her which out of the confusion 
 of thought that beset him forced itself for no particular 
 reason to the front. 
 
 " Was there some other person " he halted and 
 began again. "One of the names mentioned in the 
 list that the newspaper gave was Marian Day." 
 
 She inclined her head slightly. " I was the Marian 
 Day referred to. You thought that it was possibly 
 the name of some other unfortunate ? " 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 "I am trying to understand what you have to tell 
 me," he answered, stiffly and formally, his nerves all 
 
 474
 
 THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 
 
 on edge from the strain she was keeping him under. 
 " Please remember that I am wholly in the dark." 
 
 She leaned back in her chair and whisked the silken 
 tassel lightly. 
 
 "It is all very simple. I was a member of that 
 particular opera company. After we went abroad we 
 both decided that for many reasons it was best that I 
 should go on the stage. He " she hesitated an 
 instant and looked away " was able to secure a 
 position for me by means of influence that he brought 
 to bear. Wealth is apt to be all-powerful. He spared 
 no effort. I had been singing in the company for 
 several weeks or more on the afternoon when the fire 
 occurred. I was a sad failure. I lacked the necessary 
 training, and I couldn't act at all. My voice was only 
 mediocre, after all, it seems, though it was a surprise 
 to me to make that discovery." 
 
 " Why did you wish to go on the stage ? " 
 
 Roger put the inquiry shortly, as if every word were 
 drawn from him against his will. 
 
 She stirred a trifle uneasily. " I have just told you. 
 Both of us thought it best." 
 
 " Was it his suggestion or yours ? " he persisted, 
 sternly, with his eyes on her face. 
 
 She evaded. 
 
 " I always wanted to go on the stage. I was glad of 
 the opportunity at last. I still believe that I would 
 
 475
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 have succeeded if if I had not been so much occu- 
 pied with him. I could no more sing on the days 
 when he was out of humor than the birds can when the 
 clouds are gathering, unless the little startled cries 
 they give can be called singing. My voice was like 
 that all fearful, and harsh, and uncertain. The 
 manager was disappointed and indignant. He raved 
 and threatened. But at times I was able to do better. 
 The sun would shine, and then my voice was not such 
 a bad voice and I was applauded and people overlooked 
 my clumsy acting. One day my sun set never to rise 
 again." 
 
 She paled a little, but she spoke without a tremor, 
 and began again quickly. 
 
 "The next week after his death I went back to 
 the theater. But it was no use. On the morning of 
 the day of the fire I had a violent altercation with the 
 manager. He hinted that after the night's perform- 
 ance he intended to break with me. I determined 
 to forestall him, and I made my arrangements speedily. 
 My things were packed and sent to the station. That 
 afternoon when I went to the theater I had with me 
 all the money I possessed and all my jewels. I meant 
 to leave as soon as the opera was over for Paris. I 
 sang wretchedly. Once I encountered him at one of 
 the wings. He spoke roughly. I went to my dressing- 
 room and an impulse seized me. The performance 
 
 476
 
 THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 
 
 was only half over, but why, I thought, should I 
 submit to his insolence any longer? I did not stop to 
 think. In two minutes I was down the stairs and out 
 in the street, feeling the cool air against my cheek and 
 walking like some one escaped from a madhouse." 
 
 A sudden grayness gathered about her lips and he 
 looked at her in alarm. He started up. 
 
 " Don't talk any more now if it disturbs you so," he 
 commanded, gently. 
 
 She waved him back. Her manner had grown sud- 
 denly wild and strained, and something of the desper- 
 ation of the time she was describing seemed to awake 
 in her and urge her to a sort of breathless haste. 
 
 "Let me go on." 
 
 He sat down. 
 
 " I had gone but a few yards when I was startled by 
 hearing shrieks and hurrying steps in the direction of 
 the theater. A frantic, groaning, surging crowd swept 
 past me, and in an instant it seemed the air was filled 
 with hideous, terrifying sounds, and pandemonium 
 was let loose on every side. Then I knew that the 
 theater was on fire. I sat down on a doorstep and 
 waited. I was faint and ill. Suddenly I closed my 
 eyes. I don't know how long I sat there, but when I 
 came to myself it was getting dusk, and the streets 
 were a little quieter. I heard two men talking as they 
 passed. They were speaking of the number of lives 
 
 477
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 that were lost an appalling number, including every 
 member, they said, of the opera company." 
 
 Once more he sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Shall I get you a glass of water ? " he asked, in a 
 low, anxious voice. 
 
 She shook her head. " I staggered to my feet and 
 drew down my veil. A strange feeling was over me. 
 I was dead and yet not dead. I could still feel the 
 earth under my feet, the wind against my cheek, and 
 yet every member of the opera company was burned 
 the men had said it, and they had just come from 
 the theater, and they knew. I had lived through a 
 week of torture, the first week without him, but now 
 I felt almost joy again. It was bliss to be dead to 
 be wiped out of existence just as if I was a bit of wood 
 or flimsy stage scenery. I was grateful to the merciful 
 fire that had destroyed me. Half an hour later I was 
 on my way to Paris. On the day following I sent you 
 the newspaper." 
 
 He looked at her and his face hardened. 
 
 " It was inconceivably wrong and cruel," he said. 
 
 " But if I had never come back ? " 
 
 She watched his face with a certain low cunning 
 that he shrank from perceptibly. He rose and began 
 to walk up and down the room, and her eyes followed 
 him. Her lips were smiling. Suspicion was becoming 
 verified. 
 
 478
 
 THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 
 
 " I need never have come," she remarked, presently. 
 " He left me quite comfortable. It was because of 
 of the feeling I told you of. I never dreamed that I 
 could feel like that. When I sent you the paper I was 
 quite sure of myself. But when I came out of the long 
 illness I had I was changed. Death had looked me 
 in the eyes, and I knew that from that time on he 
 would be close at my side." 
 
 All at once she looked up into his face with a ghastly 
 attempt at the old audacious coquetry that had once 
 helped to ensnare him, the words making a shocking 
 accompaniment to her ill-timed levity. She held her 
 head lightly to one side. 
 
 "After all it may not be for more than a month or 
 two, and then then you can go back to her to 
 Sibyl Fontaine." 
 
 He came and stood before her, and something in his 
 face made her quail. The smile on her lips suddenly 
 became a contortion. She put up her hands implor- 
 ingly, growing deathlike in her grayness, and trembling 
 violently. It had been only a random shot, but she 
 knew that it had hit the mark. 
 
 "Have you decided?" she breathed rather than 
 asked. 
 
 " I have decided," he answered. 
 
 "Then you are going to renounce me?" 
 
 He did not speak, and a panic seized her and drove 
 479
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 her headlong. She stared him uncertainly in the eyes 
 for an instant, and all at once she flung out her arms 
 and sank on her knees before him. The cheap melo- 
 drama that the act suggested was belied by the abject 
 terror in her looks, her voice. For once in her relation 
 with him she was genuine. Her words came tearing 
 upon each other like overleaping flames, hot with the 
 haste of desperation. 
 
 "I am ill," she whispered, huskily, "dying as you 
 can see. There is not one chance in a hundred for 
 me. All the physicians say that. My doom has been 
 pronounced. It is some heart trouble that is incurable. 
 Death will relieve you of me soon, if only you will do 
 the thing I ask. I know it is a terrible sacrifice I ask 
 you to make. But oh, for God's sake try to make it. 
 I I cannot die in any sort of peace unless you take 
 me back! Oh, Roger, be merciful. I don't ask you 
 to forgive me, because I don't regret anything. I 
 would do it all over again. I loved him. I love him 
 still. But I want you to take me back to take me 
 back to take me back " 
 
 Her voice trailed away in an agonized wail, and she 
 covered her face in her hands. A deep and solemn 
 stillness reigned in the room as if beside the two, the 
 tall man and the prostrate woman, another figure 
 stbod, mute, noiseless, yet omnipotent. The sounds 
 in the street seemed like vague, far-off echoes that 
 
 480
 
 THE STOOP OF THE SOUL 
 
 might have wandered down from some distant planet, 
 so remote were they from the intensity of that moment, 
 which held for him a profoundly ethical meaning. 
 
 For a moment he stood looking down at her, not 
 moving a muscle. Presently he took a step forward, 
 and as he did so his features became less tense, and in 
 place of the rigidity, like a mask, that had kept his 
 face throughout in a sort of frozen calm, because of 
 the supreme effort he was making at self-control, there 
 came the light of a wide and self-obliterating com- 
 passion, as he stooped to her. 
 
 " I will take you back," he said, very gently, and 
 lifted her to her feet. 
 
 481
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 TIME'S WHEEL 
 
 ON a certain gray November afternoon Roger came 
 down the steps of one of those narrow, red brick, dis- 
 tinctly urban residences, designed, apparently, as a 
 main purpose, for the destruction of individuality, 
 which one sees in most large cities, and which, in this 
 instance, with its almost boastful air of modest gen- 
 tility, its steep stone flight, and slender iron railing, 
 formed one of a long row of comfortable but entirely 
 commonplace dwellings on an obscure street in Cin- 
 cinnati. 
 
 Here for nearly three years he had lived, never once 
 setting foot on Kentucky soil, and only in his dreams, 
 like some shipwrecked traveler starved, a-thirst, and 
 dying nearly in sight of his native shore, beholding the 
 lovely land with that deep, unquenchable yearning 
 that the Kentuckian everywhere feels for his state 
 when long absent from it. And here, with the shadow 
 of her dark and terrible past and his own most tragic 
 sorrow ever between them, together, yet infinitely 
 
 482
 
 TIME'S WHEEL 
 
 apart, once more he and Marian had attempted their 
 poor semblance of a home. 
 
 The arrangement had not turned out the temporary 
 thing she had predicted. The diagnosis of the physi- 
 cians she had consulted abroad proved to be incorrect. 
 Her physical condition slowly, but surely, had im- 
 proved, until finally, through the skill of the best 
 physicians procurable and most careful nursing, she 
 was almost a well woman again. And though her 
 beauty never quite returned, some measure of the rare 
 good looks she had had gradually came back to her, 
 and with it many of those pronounced traits of charac- 
 ter that on the surface had seemed to vanish with her 
 bloom. But the tigress passion in her had been only 
 sleeping; it was not dead, and with her renewed health 
 it awoke and clamored for its prey. 
 
 A new stimulus to existence had been given to her 
 in the discovery that Roger was no -longer the pauper 
 he was when, following her own violent inclination, 
 she had left him. The old love of luxury, for the soft, 
 warm places of life and for beautiful, costly things, 
 the desire for social success which had always been 
 dominant in her until she met Waller and succumbed 
 to him, now that she had lost him, again took hold of 
 her; and with all the craftiness which she had dis- 
 played in striving to win Roger, and with the same 
 fleshly allurement, once more she sought to be the 
 
 483
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 temptress, and to throw her enchantment over him so 
 that, Delilah like, she might rob him of his strength, 
 and thus through him accomplish what she would. 
 
 But her efforts had met with a resistance so stern 
 and chilling that even she had drawn back unable to 
 endure the humiliation of his repulse. Adamant 
 against her blandishment, treating her always with a 
 reserve that nothing could break down, he was yet 
 unfailing with regard to everything that could even in 
 the smallest way minister to her comfort; and his 
 courtesy and kindness toward her when with her 
 never faltered. But they could scarcely have been 
 more removed from each other if thousands of leagues 
 had separated them; and in his steadfast attitude, and 
 in her own gradual recognition of the fact that hence- 
 forth she was to be a wife only in name, a sense of 
 shame was provoked by her own powerlessness which 
 at first flared into flame and then sullenly smouldered. 
 Her fierce resentment, which at the outset might have 
 been placated at the first signs of yielding, had finally 
 become a settled ill-will which no overture on his part 
 could have altered, had he felt disposed to make it. 
 The profound pity which she knew he felt for her 
 hurt her even more than if in its place he had given 
 her only scorn. A brother's gentleness, when she 
 wanted a lover's caress; protection merely, when she 
 longed for power; obscurity, when her whole nature 
 
 484
 
 TIME'S WHEEL 
 
 cried out for the visible and the conspicuous these 
 were the things he had given her, and they had filled 
 her only with dissatisfaction, because they were the 
 things she cared little for. 
 
 To-day there had come a climax in their relation. 
 She had been thinking of Waller and of the wild frenzy 
 of passion he had aroused in her which she still called 
 love. She was particularly miserable, feeling the need 
 of excitement, and at luncheon she had brought up a 
 subject, half tentatively, but with a recklessness born 
 of desperation, which never before she had dared to 
 touch upon. She suggested that they should return 
 to Lexington. Roger's face suddenly paled. Then 
 he had pushed back his plate and risen from the table, 
 speaking never a word. And a sudden flame of crim- 
 son had swept to her brow, and a moment afterward, 
 throwing aside all restraint, she had turned upon him 
 with hot, indignant words, charging him with neglect 
 of her, and bewailing the loneliness and wretchedness 
 of her existence. The utter baldness and vulgarity of 
 the scene, the unexpected outbreak, her defiant dis- 
 regard of everything relating to her sinful career, 
 filled him with dismay. Hitherto he had been able to 
 keep their intercourse upon a certain dead level to 
 which his own courtliness had given tone. Now he 
 realized that a line had been crossed that would mark 
 the beginning of a painful alteration in their future 
 
 485
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 association. Presently he had come back to her and 
 sat down beside her, and for an hour or more he had 
 remained with her, striving in his thorough high breed- 
 ing to atone for the stab he had given, yet firm against 
 any argument in favor of a less secluded existence for 
 them both. 
 
 But she was not to be pacified, and the recollection 
 of the mingling of shame and wrath and stubbornness 
 upon the once beautiful face was something that he 
 took with him as he went down the steps of his house 
 and started toward the business portion of the town. 
 
 It was late, but in his preoccupation he was unheeding 
 of his car that dashed past just as he reached the side- 
 walk. Once before, he recalled, she had hinted her 
 desire for acquaintance, and it had been dimly borne 
 in upon him that she wished to return to the life of the 
 world, and to avail herself of the entree into society 
 about them which she believed his high position might 
 still have commanded for her, had he not, to her 
 extreme annoyance, thrown off every attempt at socia- 
 bility on the part of persons he had met, raising about 
 himself a barrier that few had the hardihood to break 
 down. But before she had scarcely more than touched 
 upon the matter, he changed the subject abruptly, and 
 since then she had lacked the courage to bring it up 
 again. 
 
 What it was that had roused her to the indelicacy of 
 486
 
 TIME'S WHEEL 
 
 this last proposal he could only conjecture. For a 
 number of weeks past he had been compelled to take 
 luncheon down town until to-day, and in the press of 
 business he had not been able to give up more than a 
 few moments every evening to her. He had taken an 
 office in Cincinnati, and through the instrumentality of 
 an old lawyer friend of his father's, an opportunity of 
 practicing his profession under conditions peculiarly 
 favorable had opened up to him. He worked almost 
 incessantly, the same undaunted, trustful, grappling 
 spirit of his earlier years coming again to his rescue, 
 and helping him to endure his lot as it had helped him 
 before in the midst of his fiery trials. 
 
 He had reached Fourth Street and was hurrying 
 on when a voice spoke at his elbow. He turned and 
 looked into the face of Judith Beverley. She had just 
 emerged from a candy shop and she carried two large 
 boxes under her arm. Something of the discontent he 
 always associated with Judith had vanished from her 
 expression. She was pleased and smiling, and she 
 stood before him in her long brown travelling cloak 
 and quiet hat and veil with a certain elegance that 
 made him think of Mrs. Beverley, as he for the first 
 time discerned a faint likeness between the short, 
 compact figure of the girl and her tall and stately 
 mother. 
 
 " How do you do ? " she inquired, heartily, holding 
 487
 
 out her hand. "Do you always run over the people 
 you pass on the streets ? " 
 
 "Not always," he answered, gravely, but smiling, 
 "I usually spare a few." 
 
 " You came very near not sparing me," she replied, 
 bluntly. Her keen eyes searched his face, and he 
 flinched a little under her close observation. Through 
 a careful avoidance he seldom met any of his Kentucky 
 friends on the Cincinnati streets, though he knew that 
 they were to be seen there constantly. In the almost 
 three years that had passed since he left Lexington, he 
 had not once come upon Judith. All at once, as a 
 result of her scrutiny, she uttered an abrupt exclama- 
 tion. 
 
 " What on earth is the matter with you ? " she asked, 
 quickly. " Have you had an illness ? " 
 
 He looked away. "No, I have not been ill." 
 
 But Judith kept up her investigation. Presently she 
 drew a long, slow breath, and shook her head. 
 
 "Well, you certainly look it," she exclaimed, tact- 
 lessly, and still unconvinced. " If mama could see you 
 I am sure she would prescribe at once. You know 
 she is always doing that, to my father's great disgust. 
 Did she ever make you poke out your tongue ? " 
 
 He laughed. "I don't think she ever did." 
 
 "Nor tell you to keep quiet while she counted your 
 pulse?" 
 
 488
 
 TIME'S WHEEL 
 
 "I begin to think that I was sadly neglected. Is it 
 a special mark of favor?" 
 
 Judith's shoulders went up in the old, familiar shrug. 
 
 "Oh, no; she dispenses such attentions alike upon 
 the just and the unjust, and I once saw her tenderly 
 pressing the wrist of a complete stranger in a street 
 car a blear-eyed old man afflicted with rheumatism. 
 You know she has almost as many remedies for human 
 ills written out in that wonderful old book of hers as 
 she has receipts for good things. Papa confided in me 
 in a desperate moment and said she was a perfect 
 quack. But where were you going in such haste ? " 
 
 " To my office." 
 
 " Is anybody waiting for you ? " 
 
 "I don't know. Possibly." 
 
 "Would you have time to walk to the station with 
 me and carry these things ? They are so heavy." 
 
 She glanced down at her boxes of candy and he 
 quickly relieved her of them. 
 
 "The children, as we call them still, would never 
 forgive me if I came back without an extra large 
 supply. This is to be my last trip," she said as they 
 moved on. 
 
 "Have you been here often recently?" he asked, 
 regretting the opening of the sluice-gates of memory 
 through the enforced conversation, but at the same 
 time eager like a hungry dog for the veriest crumb of 
 
 489
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 information she might let fall in relation to every one 
 connected with the old life that now seemed daily 
 receding further and further from him. Not once had 
 he heard directly or indirectly from Sibyl. Where the 
 years had been spent, and how, he knew not always 
 silence, dead and pall-like and impenetrable silence, 
 surrounded her; so that at times a madness of longing 
 would possess him to pierce the weight of blackness 
 that shut her out from him and coffined her loveliness. 
 Something in Judith's manner revealed to him that 
 she had a communication of some sort to make to 
 him, and his heart was giving such a succession of 
 wild, rapid, expectant beats as made it difficult for 
 him to talk to her. 
 
 " Have you been here often recently ? " he repeated, 
 keeping closely to the subject of herself from sheer 
 inability to touch upon anything that might lead up to 
 the one question his whole being ached to ask, yet 
 could not. 
 
 Judith grew debonair. She darted a quick, side- 
 long glance at him, and then dropped her eyes. " Oh, 
 quite quite often." 
 
 " Is it for business or pleasure ? " he asked. 
 
 "Both." 
 
 
 
 He looked puzzled. 
 
 Her figure stiffened slightly, and she held her chin 
 with a sudden haughtiness. The truth was she had 
 
 490
 
 TIME'S WHEEL 
 
 found it by no means an easy matter to forgive Roger 
 even after all the years, for not falling in love with 
 her, and she felt that the moment, small as was its 
 triumph, would in a measure reinstate her in a lost 
 dignity. 
 
 " I have been here every Saturday for the past three 
 weeks," she said; "I am getting my trousseau. It is to 
 be a lovely one." 
 
 Roger turned quickly, with kindly interest. 
 
 " So you are going to be married ! Who is the lucky 
 fellow, may I ask ? " 
 
 Judith's dignity increased. 
 
 " Mr. Morrison," she said, with the calm satisfaction 
 of one who has waited long, and suffered much, and 
 attained at last; the various gradations, however, by 
 which a young woman who has aimed high and slowly 
 descended in her matrimonial ambitions until a modest 
 little home and a very commonplace little man, the 
 latter being thrown in merely, as it were, seem desirable, 
 being all expressed in her mention of the name of her 
 future husband. 
 
 He checked an involuntary expression of surprise, 
 but she caught the amused, wondering look in his eyes. 
 
 "Oh, no doubt you are remembering that I called 
 him a chump," she said, with a little nervous laugh, 
 "that evening at Sibyl's cotillion long, long ago. 
 Doesn't it seem an eternity ? I didn't know him at all 
 
 491
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 then; and his nose was certainly much too big. It is 
 still. But I like him all the same, and I am going to 
 marry him the week before Christmas." 
 
 Roger did not answer. That one mention of Sibyl 
 had struck him dumb, and he could say nothing. 
 
 " Don't you remember that I called him a chump ? " 
 persisted Judith, still laughing, and looking up at him 
 with that curious combination of brusqueness and 
 coquetry which gave her a certain uniqueness of her 
 own. "Don't you remember? You were sitting by 
 mama and me at the favor table. Sibyl 
 
 "I remember," he cut in, rapidly. "But I under- 
 stand now that chump was only hyperbole for charm- 
 ing." 
 
 They had reached the station, and they went at 
 once down below, where a crowd awaited the calling 
 out of the several trains. 
 
 "Oh, I do believe I'm late," cried Judith, looking 
 around. 
 
 He took out his watch. "You have three minutes 
 yet, long enough for me to tell you how sincerely I 
 hope you will be happy." 
 
 People were surging through the gates. A stentorian 
 voice was calling out unintelligible things in his ears. 
 A sense of utter forlornness was stealing over him, a 
 wild eagerness to learn something anything be- 
 fore she should leave him. 
 
 492
 
 TIME'S WHEEL 
 
 "Thank you," replied Judith, rather stiffly again. 
 I am very happy. Good-by." 
 
 She put out her hand, and with a little nod and smile 
 took her boxes of candy and turned toward the gate, 
 where a grumpy figure in a slouch hat was motioning 
 with a jerk of the thumb to an uncertain traveler 
 toward the train on the far track. 
 
 She looked up at him again. A gleam half of mis- 
 chief, hah* of malice, shot into her eyes. 
 
 "Weddings seem to be taking place everywhere 
 these days," she said, laughing, with a sudden air of 
 mystery. "Have you heard about Sibyl Fontaine's? 
 But I really must go." 
 
 He paled, and with his gaze still upon her she 
 stood smiling back at him over her shoulder, while 
 the man at the gate fumbled with her ticket. Then 
 she passed on through. But once on the outside 
 she looked toward him again, and all at once, 
 still laughing immoderately, she darted back to 
 the iron railing where he stood, and once more 
 her voice, half teasing, half mocking, and wholly 
 torturing sounded in his ears. She pursed up her 
 lips, and held her head on side. Her eyes were 
 dancing. 
 
 "Sibyl Fontaine was married to a foreigner with a 
 title and a most unpronounceable name, yesterday, in 
 New York!" she whispered, and was gone. 
 
 493
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 It was after seven of the same evening before Roger 
 returned to the unhappy dwelling-place he called his 
 home. He had been tramping the streets for hours, 
 unconscious of everything about him, even the slow 
 sinking of the twilight into darkness, so symbolic of 
 the despair that had come to take the place of that 
 dear glimmering of hope of a far-off day of blessed- 
 ness, which, in defiance of all circumstances, had sus- 
 tained him throughout the difficult years; and it was 
 with a sense of utter defeat, a numbness which left 
 him powerless to confront, to battle, to reason, that he 
 went up the steps of the house and on into the narrow 
 hall-way. Under this last blinding gust, the severest, 
 the surest, the very roots of his nature had been up- 
 torn, and lay bare and quivering in the storm that had 
 felled him. 
 
 The lower floor was lighted, but in Marian's bed- 
 room above there was absolute blackness, and he con- 
 cluded that she had dressed for dinner and was waiting 
 somewhere down below. He went on up to his own 
 room, hurriedly made his preparations, and returned. 
 As he came down the stairs a servant passed through 
 the hall, and Roger inquired for her. She was not 
 feeling well the maid informed him, and had given 
 directions just after he left that she was not under any 
 conditions to be disturbed. Something made him 
 turn and retrace his steps. 
 
 494
 
 TIME'S WHEEL 
 
 He stood a moment on the landing, deliberating. 
 Not once had he entered that room; yet with his re- 
 luctance to do so now there came another feeling a 
 strange, incomprehensible suspicion that made his 
 heart stand still, and caused him to hesitate to send a 
 servant to her. 
 
 He knocked softly on her door. There was no 
 answer. He knocked again, this time louder. There 
 was only silence. He turned the knob and entered. 
 An inky darkness reigned in the room, and he stumbled 
 over a chair in his effort to find the electric light. But 
 if she were there she took no notice of the noise he 
 was making. He called to her as he groped his way 
 about the room. There came no reply. At length 
 he found a match on a little silver candlestick and 
 struck it, discovering the electric chandelier in the 
 same instant. He quickly turned on light and 
 looked about him. 
 
 The bed-chamber appeared to be deserted, the rose- 
 colored silken coverlet on the bed being heaped up in 
 such a way as to give the impression of having been 
 hastily thrust aside by some one who had but recently 
 been lying beneath it. Yet he did not believe the 
 room to be empty. He stood perfectly still, a cold 
 perspiration gathering on his brow. 
 
 A peculiar sensation was beginning to steal over 
 him, a dizziness of the brain. 
 
 495
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 All at once he pulled himself together and crossed 
 the room to the bedside. 
 
 " Marian," he said in a firm, distinct tone, " Marian ! " 
 
 The spread was drawn up about her shoulders, 
 but the outline of her form was plainly visible to him 
 now, and also her loose coil of red-brown hair against 
 the lace of her soft silk dressing-gown. With that 
 strange accuracy with which detail impresses itself 
 upon one in such moments he noticed that the gown 
 was pale blue. On the table by her side there was a 
 tiny box, and near it a glass of water. He did not 
 touch the box, but suddenly with a deepening sus- 
 picion he drew back the coverlet and looked at her. 
 
 A low cry of horror broke from him. She was lying on 
 one side, her head pressed down against the pillow, one 
 hand tightly grasping a little jeweled locket out of which 
 a man's face looked the face of Francis Waller. 
 
 Transfixed he stood staring at her, comprehending 
 in one vivid flash of realization the terrible meaning 
 of her aspect, and of this shameless, almost defiant 
 avowal of something that, hitherto, she had guarded 
 from him as a tigress guards her young; so that of all 
 men Waller was the last whom he would ever have 
 found it possible to suspect. He reached down and 
 touched her hand. It was rigid and cold in death. 
 Then he quickly turned to the tiny box on the table. 
 
 It was labeled Morphine. 
 496
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 ONE night a month later Roger returned to Lexing- 
 ton. 
 
 It was Christmas Eve, such a Christmas Eve as 
 had been the delight of his boyhood, with a keen, 
 strong wind asweep, a fall of snow three feet deep, 
 and a temperature sufficiently below the freezing 
 point to give promise of excellent skating on the mor- 
 row. How he had loved to skate! That delicious 
 bracing and balancing of oneself in the biting, wintry 
 air, that splendid sense of health and ease and good- 
 humor, that supreme confidence in one's own powers 
 of skill and of endurance that used to set his blood 
 a-tingling with something of the rapture that the eagle 
 feels as he spreads his wings and soars what it had 
 all meant to him! So much more, it seemed now on 
 looking back to it, than the mere amusement alone. 
 For it had implied the exhilaration of resistance, of 
 exertion, of the capacity of throwing one's whole being 
 into the thing that absorbs one and drawing from it 
 
 497
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 the last atom of enjoyment it contains, just as later on 
 he was destined to throw his whole soul into his work, 
 and to draw from it the inspiration that makes for a 
 higher ideal of life. 
 
 The lawn in front of the old Hart residence was a 
 white and glittering expanse beneath the newly-risen 
 moon, and unbroken save for a series of footprints, 
 supplemented here and there by the irregular tracks 
 of a dog, leading from the smaller of the two gateways 
 along the narrow path that wound under the ghostly 
 trees up to the deserted house. Evidently Uncle Lish 
 and his favorite among the setters were the sole itiner-. 
 ants that had gone that way all day; and in contrast 
 with the distant sounds of merrymaking going on in 
 the heart of the town, where, amid the blare of tin 
 horns, crowds of loafers and little street urchins were 
 shrieking their delight in bonfires and sky-rockets and 
 Roman candles, the solemn stillness that brooded 
 over the spot produced an impression not unlike that 
 awakened by the sight of a churchyard in the midst 
 of a noisy city square. The two old negroes left in 
 charge of the place as caretakers scarcely gave to it 
 the look of being inhabited, and but for a little thin 
 trail of smoke that presently Roger discerned ascend- 
 ing from the extreme rear portion of the building he 
 might have even doubted their faithfulness. 
 
 He had sent no word to tell them to expect him, and 
 498
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 it was with a sense of utter loneliness and desolation 
 that he stood a moment on the outside of the gate and 
 delayed to lift the latch. The difference between this 
 home-coming and the one he had dreamed of, glorified 
 by the welcome of the woman he loved! He had 
 pictured it all to himself so many times, and last night 
 he had heard almost as an actuality the low sweet 
 sound of her laughter, as he beheld her standing beside 
 him, so that he awoke to the stark misery of his loss, 
 feeling as if he had one instant entered paradise only 
 the next to be thrust down to hell. How he had loved 
 her loved her still ! The bitter blame that a man 
 might have had under such conditions had not come 
 to poison his devotion. He did not question he did 
 not even try to understand. He had made no further 
 inquiry of any one; for as yet his wound was too 
 new and too deep to bear a careless handling, and 
 the restraint that he had been compelled to put 
 upon himself that afternoon with Judith Beverley, 
 when hoping to obtain some sort of information from 
 her, was an agony that there seemed no need to 
 make a repetition of, in view of the simple, crushing 
 fact. He had lost her! How or why what mat- 
 tered it? Some day when his mind had recovered 
 a little from that last staggering blow, and from 
 the tragedy of Marian's death following hard upon 
 it, some day, perhaps, he would wish to know 
 
 499
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 everything that now he shrank from. But not yet, 
 not yet. 
 
 As he turned into the yard, for the first time he 
 looked in the direction of the judge's home. He had 
 been keeping his eyes resolutely away, but a sense of 
 kinship with his friend through a common loneliness 
 made him think of him with peculiar sympathy on this 
 night when of all others the heart cries out for human 
 contact, the hand clasp with its kind, so that one may 
 be a part of that circle formed by the Christ idea which 
 makes for the solidarity of humanity. To-night in his 
 isolation he felt outside the circle. 
 
 All at once he gave a start of surprise. The house 
 presented a very different aspect from what he had 
 expected. Instead of the dark and solitary abode he 
 had thought to see, with only the student's lamp in the 
 library and a single burner in the front hall, he beheld 
 a Christmas cheerfulness that gleamed from every 
 window, and shone softly across the snow, as if the 
 festival were being kept with a special emphasis within. 
 For an instant his heart stood still. In all his torturing 
 imaginings it had not once occurred to him that Sibyl 
 might be in Kentucky. He had thought of her as 
 far, far away, always. That she was here, as seemed 
 more than probable, within a few yards of him, here, 
 where they had loved each other so profoundly and so 
 despairingly, here with the man who was now her 
 
 500
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 husband, was a realization that had come upon him so 
 suddenly as completely to unnerve him, and he stood 
 trembling as in an ague, and unable to go on. 
 
 He scarcely knew how long he stood there, but after 
 a while he found himself moving quickly forward, 
 regardless of the vague outline of a path made by 
 Uncle Lish's clumsy shoes and the light prints of the 
 dog, and aiming with a sort of desperation for his own 
 doorway. Though he kept his gaze on the ground he 
 could still see that brightly lighted building, and his 
 eyeballs burned as from a painful glare. The front 
 steps were banked with snow, but he strode up them, 
 and with an odd sense of repetition, yet of strangeness, 
 reached down in his pocket for the latchkey, and 
 opened the door. 
 
 He moved a step or two into the hall, but he forbore 
 to turn on a light, some instinct newly aroused in him 
 making the heavy gloom that pervaded the place 
 preferable in that moment; and recalling the position 
 of the furniture, he slowly groped his way along the 
 wall and reached the doorway at the far end that led 
 out upon the porch. It was locked, but on the inside, 
 and with the dimly unpleasant consciousness that he 
 was prowling like a burglar about his own premises at 
 the risk of frightening his old servants out of their wits, 
 he went down the steps of the porch and made his 
 way toward the kitchen in the ell. 
 
 501
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 There was a little strip of dotted muslin at the window 
 neatly tied to one side, and within, sitting beside a 
 table in a long white apron and carefully stirring some- 
 thing in a huge bowl which she held in her lap, he saw 
 the comfortable form and bland countenance of Aunt 
 Daphne, her smooth, round face shining like polished 
 ebony in the glare of the electric light. She was singing 
 hi a disjointed, preoccupied fashion one of the weird 
 plantation melodies of her youth, and as the sound 
 floated out to him Roger listened in spite of his own 
 wretchedness, wondering how anything so unutterably 
 plaintive and heart-broken could be expressive of the 
 sunny contentment that rested upon the old woman's 
 features. But experience had taught him that Aunt 
 Daphne was always at her happiest when she sang 
 that song, and that she was harking backward to a 
 time that she never grew weary of telling of the time 
 when the colonel was young and life on the great 
 country place was an unbroken round of feasting and 
 gaiety, presided over by the stateliness of " Ole Marster " 
 and " Ole Miss," whose gracious elegance she sought 
 to make alive again by means of the quaint bows 
 and curtsies with which she undertook to describe 
 them. 
 
 Presently Roger moved toward the door and tried 
 to turn the knob. The door was locked, and he 
 knocked softly. There was an abrupt pause within 
 502
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 and a stillness as of one listening. Then the stirring 
 began again and with it a low muttering. 
 
 "Ef airy one of dem low-lifted tramps comes a- 
 knockin' at dat doo' I knows what I gwine do to 'em 
 I knows," said the voice with a chuckle. " De 
 water in dat tea-kittle bilin' hot. Hit sho ain' good 
 foh de health of tramps, but I ain' gwine stan' no 
 foolin' ef hit is Christmas Eve." 
 
 " Won't you let me in, Aunt Daphne ? " called Roger, 
 meekly; "I am not a tramp." 
 
 There was a smothered ejaculation, and the bowl 
 was quickly deposited on the table. Then there was 
 a ponderous movement across the room and the door 
 was flung open. 
 
 "Bless Gawd, ef thar ain' Miss Sophie's chile out 
 thar in de snow, an' I done took him foh one of dese 
 yere low-down critters what goes 'roun' beggin' a meal 
 o' victuals caze dey too lazy to wuk ! " 
 
 As Roger entered the kitchen she stood with her 
 hands folded at her waist, making a series of curious 
 little dips before him intended to convey her most 
 humble apologies. 
 
 "Honey," she said, "I reckon you'll have to 'cuse 
 me dis time. I ain' nuver had no use foh de poo' 
 white trash. De cun'l he lak 'em better'n he did de 
 half-strainers, an' I is seen him lif' he hat an' step 
 aside foh a ole woman wid a shawl on an' a baskit, 
 
 503
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 same ez she wuz a queen. Hit's de way wid de quality; 
 but dey too onery fob me, an' de tramps is comin' 
 heah all de time." 
 
 She pushed a chair for him up in front of the stove 
 and then began vigorously to throw on more coal. 
 
 "Is you most froze?" she inquired, anxiously. 
 **Huccome you come back lak dis, 'thout sendin' 
 word to me an* Lish?" Then before Roger could 
 answer she gave a quick, peering glance into his 
 face. 
 
 " Gawd ! " she cried, " ef you don' look lak you been 
 daid an' buried an' den dug up." But she said no 
 more. That he would not wish to touch upon his life 
 with his wife and her death, she seemed to realize by 
 means of a fine intuition. 
 
 Roger looked away, his eyes taking in the appoint- 
 ments of the well-ordered kitchen, the polished range, 
 the glittering array of pans on the wall, and the familiar 
 system and neatness and coziness of it all, and presently 
 his glance returned to the old woman still standing 
 respectfully by his side. 
 
 "I have not been ill; don't bother about me, Aunt 
 Daphne," he said, "and go on with what you were 
 doing. I will sit here by your fire and talk to you for 
 a while. How have you been, and how is Uncle Lish ? " 
 
 The old woman took a cake mold down from the wall, 
 washed and wiped it, and began to pour into it the 
 
 504
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 contents of the earthen bowl. She threw him a playful 
 glance over her shoulder. 
 
 " Seem lak I git peerter an' spryer all de time," she 
 observed, "but Lish, he is poo'ly, thank Gawd. He 
 all crippled up wid rheumatiz." 
 
 "Where is he?" asked Roger, understanding thor- 
 oughly that the apparent heartlessness existed only in 
 manner and in words. 
 
 " He up sta'hs hi baid, soun' a-sleep, I specs, by dis 
 time. I gwine sit up all night wid dis black cake. 
 I is made sixteen, black an' yalleh, an' I done sole 'em 
 all. Dis las' one ain' foh sale. Hit's a Christmas 
 gif foh Miss Sibyl. Miss Sibyl moghty good to me, 
 an' I is makin' dis cake foh her, an' I gwine tek it 
 over to her to-morreh, an' I gwine ketch her Christmas 
 gif fo' she knows it. UU-MW / Ain' she sweet an' 
 pretty ! Dey is havin' a party over thar to-night 
 leastways her pa is, an' Miss Sibyl come in an' shuk 
 han's wid all de gemmen, an' she talk a lil while, an' 
 den she come out, trailin' her skirts an' laughin'. 
 She got on a light blue silk an' a rose in her hyah." 
 
 " When when did she come back ? " asked Roger, 
 unsteadily. 
 
 The old negress turned a blank countenance upon 
 him. 
 
 " Whar she been ? " she demanded in surprise. 
 
 "I was told that she had been to New York," 
 505
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 he replied, the room suddenly whirling before his 
 eyes. 
 
 Aunt Daphne shook her head. 
 
 "She ain' been to no New York," she declared, 
 positively. 
 
 Roger was unable to speak for a moment, and the 
 old woman, noting his pallor, said, suddenly: 
 
 "Honey, is you hongry? Lemme make you a 
 cup of tea, an' bring you some victuals outen de 
 pantry." 
 
 "I had something down town, Aunt Daphne; I 
 don't want anything more. Tell me about the 
 judge. How is he?" 
 
 " De jedge right smart. Miss Sibyl all de time takin' 
 keer of him. She ain' lef him oncet sence you been 
 away. I say, 'Honey, how de Jedge gwine do whin 
 you git mahied ? ' And she say, ' Aunt Daphne, I ain' 
 nuver gwine git mahied; I jes gwine be ole maid. 
 Don' you think I'll make a nice old maid ? ' An' den 
 she laugh an' look sweeter'n a peach, an' say, ' Maybe 
 I won' be a ole maid ; maybe de fairy prince come arter 
 me wid de love-light in he eyes, an' den, whin he comes, 
 he'll know I is been a-waitin' an' a-waitin', caze I don' 
 wan' nobody but him.' " 
 
 Roger had suddenly risen. A mist had gathered 
 before his eyes, and he rested one trembling hand on 
 the back of his chair to steady himself. His heart was 
 
 506
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 beating tumultuously, but with a great effort he con- 
 trolled his voice and spoke. 
 
 " Aunt Daphne," he said, quickly, " do you think it 
 would be possible for you to speak to her for a mo- 
 ment?" 
 
 " In course I kiri speak to her." 
 
 " Will you get her cloak and overshoes, and then tell 
 her that I am waiting by the bench in the garden ? " 
 
 The old negress threw back her head, and broke into 
 a laugh that revealed nearly all of her white, strong 
 teeth, as she snatched up a heavy gray shawl from a 
 hook in the corner. A twinkle of understanding shone 
 for an instant in her eyes, flickered, and fled, as with 
 a certain wily diplomacy that showed her quite capable 
 of managing the situation without appearing to suspect 
 its import, she remarked, blandly: 
 
 " I gwine fetch her, caze hit's time she gittin' a bre'f 
 of fresh a'r." And then, as quietly as if the command 
 he had given were quite the most natural thing in the 
 world, she threw the shawl over her head, and slipped 
 out into the night. 
 
 The old garden lay sleeping under the calm splen- 
 dor of the full-orbed moon, tucked beneath a fleecy 
 coverlet a-gleam with iridescent stars and overhung 
 by delicate draperies that softly clung about tree and 
 bush and flower. The snow had been shoveled from 
 
 507
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 the little path that led toward the bench that held for 
 Roger such intimate and thrilling associations; and it 
 was with a sudden leap of the heart that he noted the 
 circumstances and wondered if the place had not 
 become to her after he had left her a short of shrine 
 where, though striving never to lose sight of the fact 
 that they were separated from each other in the flesh 
 by vows which were restraining, the spiritual part of 
 her had gone out in perfect communion with the 
 spiritual part of himself that had never been wedded, 
 and felt itself mated without sin to his soul. For his 
 masculine vision had enlarged. And added to the 
 full comprehension of the meaning of the duality of 
 human existence, the union of the man and the woman 
 in the complete sanctity of a healthful humanness 
 and a sound spirituality, which had come to him 
 through experience, there had broken upon him also 
 the realization of the awful isolation that a man's 
 being may discover in the human relation based merely 
 upon sense, and of the exquisite oneness which is at- 
 tained when all the parts of his nature are answered to. 
 The stillness of a sanctuary was all about him, a 
 sanctuary lit by moonbeams and soft reflected light, 
 that seemed but a symbol of the Eternal Purity. Only 
 once there was a sound in the distance, and Roger 
 turned eagerly. The glass door at the end of the hall 
 had opened, and old Daphne, looking neither to right 
 
 508
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 nor to left, came down the steps and disappeared a 
 moment afterward, passing through the little gateway 
 and on into her own precincts. 
 
 He began to pace up and down the path. How the 
 moments dragged! From time to time he paused 
 and would glance appealingly hi the direction of the 
 brightly lighted building, which, such a little while 
 before, had filled him with so blinding a sense of pain. 
 The reaction had come so quickly and so unexpectedly 
 that his brain was still reeling as under an intoxication. 
 He was unconscious of the cold, for his heart was glow- 
 ing with the fire of love, and every wild beat was only 
 bringing her nearer and nearer. 
 
 He walked over to the bench and stood looking down 
 upon it, hearing again the sigh of the summer wind 
 in the branches overhead, thrilling again under the 
 sound of her voice, and realizing every h'ttle detail 
 of the picture that had forever stamped itself upon his 
 memory in relation to that day when together they had 
 read the old tale of Aucassin and Nicolete, and knew 
 that they loved with a love that was even mightier 
 than that of those dear prove^al lovers of the long ago. 
 
 Perhaps, like Aucassin on the day when he went 
 into battle, he was dreaming so absorbingly that he 
 lost all sense of relation to anything about him, or she 
 had come so softly that there was not even a rustle of 
 her garments to tell of her approach. He only knew 
 
 509
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 that suddenly he looked up and she was there beside 
 him, straight and beautiful in her long dark cloak, 
 and with the light of an eternal devotion shining in her 
 eyes. 
 
 For one long, soul-speaking, soul-embracing instant 
 each looked into the face of the other, and then silently 
 he reached out his arms to her, and in silence she came 
 to him. A moment passed, yet neither spoke, nor 
 stirred; and with a finer communication than any 
 speech, spirit answered to spirit as their lips met. 
 
 From the house there came the music of harpists 
 playing softly. She raised her head. 
 
 " I would have come sooner," she said, just as if all 
 deeper things had been gone over between them and 
 as if they had never really been separated for even a 
 day, *' but they," with a nod toward the house, " were 
 about to go in to dinner, and for a few moments I was 
 needed. Father is having some of his old friends 
 this evening, a whole host of them. Dearest, did the 
 time seem long ? " 
 
 " I thought you would never come ! " he cried, pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 "But it was only five minutes." 
 
 " It was five hours." 
 
 All at once, still holding her close to him, with his 
 left hand he drew her face nearer and looked down 
 deep into her eyes. A sudden rush of bitter, torturing 
 
 510
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 recollection swept him. " And she told me she 
 told me that you were married you! God, how 
 does a man bear some things!" 
 
 She drew back in actual alarm. 
 
 " She ? Who What do you mean ? " she asked, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Judith Beverley." 
 
 She stood watching him, aghast at the hollow misery 
 that had all at once leaped into his eyes at the bare 
 mention of something that she was all in ignorance of. 
 For a moment she could not speak. 
 
 " What did Judith tell you ? " she inquired, at length, 
 controlling voice and manner, and seeking to calm 
 him by her own quietude. 
 
 " She told me that you were married in New York to 
 a ' foreigner with a title and a most unpronounceable 
 name.' Those were her own devilish words." 
 
 She moved a step or two away from him. 
 
 " And you believed her ? " she asked, coldly. 
 
 "I believed her. Only a fiend would have been 
 capable of inflicting such anguish. I did not doubt 
 her." 
 
 "But you doubted me." 
 
 " Never. I knew that nothing, nothing on this earth, 
 and nothing in Heaven or Hell, could ever separate us." 
 
 " Yet you believed what Judith told you." 
 
 He was silent, and she said, in a voice that had 
 511
 
 THE INVISIBLE BOND 
 
 grown strangely sad and listless, "It was my cousin, 
 Sibyl Fontaine, who was married in New York to the 
 foreigner with the title and the most unpronounceable 
 name." 
 
 He started. The cruel levity on Judith Beverley's 
 silly features, her uncontrollable mirth, and her teasing 
 innuendo, how plain it had all become to him! He 
 looked quickly into Sibyl's face. Her eyes were down- 
 cast. With a sudden, sharp misgiving he held out his 
 arms again to her. She did not stir. 
 
 " Oh, forgive me ! " he cried. " You can never know 
 what I have suffered." 
 
 There was the ring of a wild apprehension in his 
 voice. 
 
 She slowly turned and looked at him, at the marks 
 of agony traced deep upon the beloved face, and 
 suddenly her heart melted. With a little sigh she 
 came back to him. "Poor dear!" was all she said, 
 as with both her hands she drew his face down to 
 her. 
 
 How ill and wretched and unnerved he was she had 
 never until that instant fully realized, and her heart 
 was not only full of forgiveness but of womanly fears 
 for him. Under the pretence of being unwilling to 
 remain longer on her own account she sought to bring 
 him hi out of the cold. 
 
 "Come, dear, you must take me in now, else you 
 
 512
 
 THE APRIL'S IN HER EYES 
 
 will find yourself making love to an ice-maiden, instead 
 of a woman of flesh and blood." 
 
 He wrapped her cloak closer about her, and as he 
 did it a scene came before his eyes, and he saw her 
 standing in the door of the Judge's library with a great 
 spray of frozen blossoms in her hands, her lovely face 
 looking forth from the flowers, sad as if she were the 
 very goddess of spring, sorrowing for all her little dead 
 children. 
 
 "An ice-maiden, is she?" he said, quickly, as a 
 sudden thrill of passionate possession shook him. 
 " But ' the April's in her eyes,' and my love " he 
 laughed softly " my love is warm." 
 
 She pressed nearer to him. "Say the rest of it," 
 she demanded, with a catch like a sob in her voice. 
 
 **I can't; I don't know any more." 
 
 Once more she drew his face down to her, and he 
 felt her tears wetting his cheek. 
 
 "'It is love's spring,'" she quoted, low under her 
 breath. And even as she spoke she felt the quick 
 tightening of the muscles in the arm that held her, the 
 sudden joyful, overleaping response with which his 
 whole being awoke to the meaning of her words, as 
 simultaneously, and in an awed silence, they turned 
 and together started up the narrow path. 
 
 THE END 
 
 513
 
 A 000132172 8