MARAH ELLIS RYA 
 
THE WOMAN OF THE TWILIGHT 
 
1 
 
 /, 
 
 
 > 
 
 
"There was a gray ship in the far mists . . . 
 but no voice came back" 
 
 [Page 374] 
 
The 
 
 Woman of the Twilight 
 
 The Story of a Story 
 
 By 
 
 MARAH ELLIS RYAN 
 
 Author of "For the Soul of Rafael, * 
 " Indian Love Letters," etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY HANSON BOOTH 
 
 CHICAGO 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 
 1913 
 
Copyright 
 
 A. C. McClurg & Co. 
 1913 
 
 Published April, 1913 
 
 Copyrighted in Great Britain 
 
To 
 
 The Perfect Friend 
 SOPHIA VAN HORN 
 
 This 
 In Loving Tribute 
 
 M. E. R. 
 
 M598750 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "There was a gray ship in the far mists, but no 
 
 voice came back" Frontispiece 
 
 "And always I will be alone" 42 
 
 The broken wing I 44 
 
 "Forget? Forget ?" she whispered incredulously . 254 
 
 "He is no longer dying " 4<H 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 years McLane Sargent was impressed with 
 the feeling that Aliso Canon was as some occult 
 dividing line between an old life and a new. Looking 
 backward, it was as if the break in the sea wall there 
 was some fateful portal passed, and connected with 
 the portal was always the smell of the sage and the 
 tang of the sea salt air. 
 
 Gilman, of the Southern Sun, had persuaded him 
 into taking a run down the coast from Los Angeles 
 on a slight trail of smugglers who were using both 
 coast and Mexican border for the quiet traffic in Orien 
 tals. Sargent had not the slightest interest in the 
 oriental question, though he liked some Orientals 
 individually; but he was intoxicated by the harmonic: 
 of soft gray-greens of the ranges, the odor of sage 
 and honey in the air, and the wonderful, unforgetable 
 blue of the sea at the edge of the cliffs. 
 
 "An automobile is the limit of all aggressiveness 
 and discordance when it is in a background like this," 
 he decided. " It has advantages in a practical way, 
 but who wants to be practical or utilitarian when he 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 can smell the white sage, hear the meadow-lark, and 
 see that sweep of the sea not an ordinary blue sea, 
 but deep dark blue a royal blue. If this coast were 
 in Italy palaces would have been built ages ago where 
 those sheep range above the cliffs. Neither the Span 
 ish or the Americans seem to have possessed any real 
 sense of the beauty of this land. They huddle their 
 dwellings in groups ; there is nothing of gracious space 
 such as the land invites. The Spanish might have 
 imported a little of the Moor s art together with his 
 
 music." 
 
 You wait," suggested Gilman, "while I investi 
 gate that fisherman at Boca de la Playa on the Chinese 
 smuggling matter. You can take the machine and 
 run up to old San Juan Mission it s only three 
 miles. Usually there is something doing there; a 
 rodeo that is a round-up of cattle or horses not 
 so many horse ranches these days; but a Spanish dance, 
 or barbecue, or christening whatever it is in old San 
 Juan it is likely to give you a story. A lot of smug 
 gling is done through this one mission valley, and 
 Mexican renegades from either north or south can find 
 cousins and a hiding place in it at least that s its 
 reputation. It has a local political mogul who is Amer 
 ican, old Lee Bronson, an adventurer who drifted in 
 here with a cavalcade of Mormons on an exodus to 
 the south some thirty years ago. The story is that 
 they camped here two days to rest up and feed their 
 stock, and that on the third morning he married the 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 daughter of the richest Mexican in the valley and has 
 dominated the region ever since. Half the Mexicans 
 and many of the Indians were connections of his wife s 
 tribe, either with or without benefit of clergy. I saw 
 the man once a magnificent animal with shoulders 
 a yard across of a good old southern family, I Ve 
 heard; a reckless ranger and inveterate gambler, taking 
 a long chance on any game from a chicken fight to a 
 horse race. Lost a lot of coin, but still lives in a sort 
 of state in an old hacienda with his Mexican brood 
 keeps open house for any well introduced or represen 
 tative travelers the inn of the little hamlet is not 
 alluring, I am told. You are the representative dis 
 tinguished individual of this outfit, Lane. I 11 use you 
 to the limit in the interests of the Sun and hide myself 
 under your toga while I try to find the trail of that 
 Chinese leak. In the meantime you can meet the 
 padrone of the mission valley, and get a character for 
 another best seller." 
 
 All this from Oilman, in his short, jerky sentences 
 as he steered the machine along the mesa from Laguna, 
 with never a glance at the ultramarine of the sea on 
 his right or the carpet of bloom where the range lay 
 in great billows on his left. He prided himself on 
 being able to write a column of live matter and con 
 fine himself to words of one or two syllables, and that 
 rapid fire method became a part of his own speech 
 after he found it had a market value. Sargent listened 
 and watched him and smiled. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "You and your machine are typical, Oilman," he 
 observed; "your ultimate ambition seems to be to 
 make a record, to get somewhere; and you see and 
 hear nothing in your going. For the sake of your 
 own soul, listen to that meadow-lark, and look at the 
 wonderful color in the water by the cliff. It changes 
 like an abalone shell in the light and holds all the 
 shades from indigo blue to pink and a veil as of white 
 lace ever forming and sinking, and forming again in 
 a new pattern. Is this all so common to you that you 
 never give it a glance ? " 
 
 "Never saw it before was not sure I could get 
 along this way with a machine heard some tales 
 about high water in the streams quicksands in some 
 of them, you know these creeks are treacherous 
 call them rivers in this country. But this mesa road 
 was the only way to reach Boca de la Playa without 
 going through San Juan, which is desirable if I hope 
 to get any real information from my fisherman. A 
 halt for a glass of wine offered with all courtesy is 
 likely to use up time enough for Juan or Pedro or 
 Diego to slip into a saddle and make a friendly call 
 on the boats and their owner. They are tricky as 
 coyotes, and I tell you, it would pay you to stay over 
 and make notes." 
 
 "Still harping! I thought I made it clear that I 
 could only take a run around for a day with you. 
 I Ve been due in New York for a week." 
 
 "Now who s the slave of time and speed?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 grunted Gilman. " I should think that after having 
 been soaked in the cold and drizzle of British Co 
 lumbia, a little sunshine would be worth staying over 
 for." 
 
 " It would, but the North Coast book is to go on 
 the presses in a matter of days, and if ever you did 
 a piece of work in a dialect new to the reading public, 
 you d know enough to get there in time to read proofs 
 yourself. I am barely saving myself time for that. 
 If we don t reach Los Angeles in time for a night 
 train I must take the first one in the morning." 
 
 "We can have supper in San Juan and get there 
 tonight; but if there is a fandango in San Juan it is 
 sure to be a morning train. Who are our neighbors? " 
 
 They had made a turn and dip, and were gliding 
 around the edge of Aliso Canon and down the incline 
 to the little velvety green level running north a 
 fragrant rift in the sea wall and from a group of 
 tents and wagons a slender figure in scarlet flashed 
 along the opposite trail mounted on a beautiful horse 
 of the palomino markings, its white mane and tail 
 shining like silk against the deep cream coat. 
 
 " For the love of Mike ! " said Gilman, and stopped 
 the machine with a bump to watch. " It s a girl, a 
 white girl, and she rides like an Indian boy." 
 
 Sargent said nothing. He was too much occupied 
 with the wonder; yet it seemed like a corner of the 
 world where the unexpected might always happen. 
 
 "A camp of abalone hunters, Indians and Mex- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 leans," continued Gilman; "that is apparent, but I 
 wonder if this might be a point of contact with my 
 Chinese question. It is no slight thing sent the girl off 
 like that. n 
 
 He started the machine again, approaching the 
 camp slowly and noting the bustle and excitement, and 
 one man to whom the others brought water and wine 
 as he sank back on a little bank breathing heavily as 
 if from a race. One old woman was weeping, and in 
 the chatter and questions of the others the two men 
 heard the name of Don Lee several times. 
 
 " Good day, friend," said Gilman to one of the men 
 as he halted near the group, "is there trouble in 
 camp?" 
 
 " Trouble, Ai t ai! Senores, much of troubles ! This 
 man it is Tomas Alvar, my compadre has come 
 with much bad word of trouble. Senor Don Lee Bron- 
 son is already dying with the fall of a horse over a 
 canon wall the rains made loose the earth and all 
 went down. The horse is killed dead and Don Lee 
 will ride no more and will walk no more ! " 
 
 " Ai! will walk no more," shrilled one of the older 
 women in Spanish, " and Querida, his Querida, is here 
 away from him when he calls for her. Ai, ai, Don 
 Lee ! Ai, ai, Querida ! " 
 
 She wailed and rocked her body and exclaimed 
 over the fatality of it, but the two Americans could 
 only comprehend her woe and the name. 
 
 " And the girl, the rider? " Gilman made a gesture 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 towards the road up the side of the canon where the 
 girl had flashed out of sight to the mesa above. 
 
 "That is La Querida; she is his niece, he is as her 
 father poor little one! It is to her Tomas brings 
 the word, and she rides see you how she rides that 
 his eyes may see her again." 
 
 " I promising Dona Carmel that I find La Querida 
 or I never riding back the trail to San Juan," stated 
 Tomas, who had gulped down the wine and gotten 
 his breath. " My horse there is wet as if he is swim 
 ming a river" then he checked himself at some 
 thought and whispered, " Madre de Dios! the river! " 
 
 "What it is?" demanded his compadre, impatiently. 
 "Tomas, what you thinking?" 
 
 " The river! It is the short way. She will try to 
 cross the river, and the waters coming down last 
 night like the flood, and all the quicksands " 
 
 He turned to his horse as if to mount, but the spent 
 brute stood panting, his neck stretched out, his sides 
 heaving. He could never make the race back and over 
 take that crimson arrow shooting across the mesa. 
 Tomas dropped his head with an eloquent upward 
 gesture of despairing hands. 
 
 "I don t know the trail," said Gilman, "but cheer 
 up; unless there are some unusual cut-offs, or an impos 
 sible road, we can catch her. Clear the road, that I 
 may back to take the hill that s it, and now 
 adios!" 
 
 "Adios, adios, Amigo!" called the men as the ma- 
 
8 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 chine swept by them over the bridge and up the 
 grade with all the power it could gather for the spurt. 
 
 But the horse and rider were sweeping downward 
 in a barranca a mile ahead, and then emerged a 
 fleeting vision of cream and scarlet. Sargent thought 
 of a graceful bird clearing the sage green of the 
 ranges. 
 
 But it was not a road for speed with a car. On 
 every incline where barranca or canon dipped down 
 to the sea the gray hills were washed in great ruts, and 
 only on the level mesa could they hope to make better 
 time than the reckless " La Querida," who swerved 
 neither to right or left, but sped like a homing bird, or 
 a flaming arrow. 
 
 Beyond, they could see a larger range looming and 
 a wide half moon of the surf running in to the yellow 
 cliffs. Somewhere at the foot of those hills the river 
 must run, the treacherous river of the quicksands when 
 the rains made every brooklet as a swift running mill 
 race. The mountains were only ten miles from the 
 sea, and the force of the river at its worst would be 
 problem enough for a girl and horse to swim without 
 the added risk of the shifting, quickening sands. 
 
 The two men did not speak of these things; they 
 had ceased talking, but their thoughts were ahead of 
 the car and not of it. They had neither lost nor 
 gained space as yet, or at least the gain had been 
 slight; then two miles of clear mesa came to their lot, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 and beyond it they felt must be the downward sweep 
 to the river. 
 
 "Hold on," said Oilman, "this is the stretch where 
 we win all we are likely to win to get within hailing 
 distance." 
 
 There was silence, as they seemed scarcely to touch 
 the ground until they reached the summit, and then 
 Sargent, leaning forward tense and watchful, whis 
 pered, "Thank the gods!" 
 
 Gilman, forced to check speed for the unknown 
 decline, glanced ahead and drew a breath of relief. 
 
 " Me too ! " he agreed, for in a bend of the road 
 below three horsemen had emerged, vaqueros who had 
 halted and were staring at the girl, who checked the 
 pace neither up grade nor down, and who shouted 
 high and clear the query, "Can I cross the river?" 
 
 "Si, Senorita, we did cross it yesterday!" 
 
 Question and answer came clearly to the two men 
 above them, and Gilman shot the car forward with an 
 oath. 
 
 ; Yesterday, yesterday!" muttered Sargent, staring 
 ahead; "but the man said it was last night the flood 
 came down the girl does not know are the men 
 devils? Yell for all you are worth, Gillie; now then, 
 both together ! " 
 
 The girl must have heard them call. She threw 
 up one hand as response or acknowledgment, but did 
 not turn her head or slacken speed. Evidently she 
 
io The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 thought the call was a cheer for the way the beautiful 
 horse was spurning the road beneath him, and as the 
 car shot past the three horsemen Oilman glanced into 
 their smiling faces and came wondrously near grazing 
 them, as he sounded the warning call of the horn again 
 and again and again as the car seemed to fairly drop 
 down from the upper level on the trail of the flying 
 horse. 
 
 At that long sustained note of warning the girl did 
 turn her head but too late! 
 
 She was on the edge of the water where at other 
 times the river shore reached its shelving sands grad 
 ually towards the center, and a small creek made its 
 way to the sea, which was less than a quarter of a 
 mile away. 
 
 But now there was no shelving shore. The force 
 of the water from the mountains had cut clear the 
 course for a river, and the edge of the river in flood 
 was as the straight walled bank of a canal, and the 
 horse, running swiftly to the fording place, plunged 
 from the bank into the treacherous flood, moving so 
 quietly, relentlessly, that no one could guess the depth 
 to which the river had been cut in one brief night and 
 day. 
 
 For an instant it seemed as if horse and rider were 
 both going under as they shot downwards, but that 
 warning had at least caused the girl to swerve, turn 
 ing up stream, and lifting the head of the horse, 
 keeping it above water. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight II 
 
 To turn and regain the bank was not a possible 
 thing. There was nothing to do but strive for the 
 opposite wall, against which the water swirled and 
 lapped until one great mass of the adobe soil after 
 another was cut under by the turbid flood and melted 
 into the mass carried out to sea. 
 
 Gallantly the beautiful animal swam, his mane and 
 tail no longer like spun silver, but gray from the soiled 
 water. Midway his feet touched soil, and he flung 
 up his head as a victor who has reached the goal and 
 conquered; but only for an instant. The next a brief 
 whinny of fear came from him, and the girl on his 
 back leaned forward, patting his neck, urging, coax 
 ing, lifting him out of the terror in which his feet 
 were tangled. 
 
 u The quicksand!" whispered Sargent. The car 
 had halted a few yards from the water, and he had 
 leaped out with the instinct to help, yet there was 
 nothing he could do. The still, relentless current of 
 the river swept between them; it was sweeping the 
 horse towards the sea despite his gallant fight, and 
 the rider knew it. Sargent could sense the moment 
 she knew it, for she no longer urged him to cross, but 
 headed him diagonally down stream and across. 
 Again and again the feet of the animal struck sand 
 banks from which he struggled free, and Oilman 
 shouted praise and encouragement as the further shore 
 was neared. 
 
 The girl never turned her head. Sargent said not 
 
12 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 a word. He fairly held his breath at the doubt as 
 to whether a horse, thus struggling, would have 
 strength at the water s edge to make the leap to the 
 top of the bank. To scramble or make tentative 
 attempts would only result in crumbling away the adobe 
 wall, and then he noted twigs and bits of bark swept 
 seaward. 
 
 He had cast aside his coat and, loosening his shoes, 
 was keeping opposite, slowly walking abreast, loosen 
 ing cravat and collar, but never taking his eyes off the 
 horse and rider. If the worst happened he could per 
 haps swim below her. With help a light figure like 
 hers could reach the bank even if the horse went 
 under which would happen unless by some miracle 
 or instinct he could find solid footing for his hind feet, 
 that he might make a clear leap to the level above. 
 
 And that the apparently impossible was what 
 came about. From being swept steadily seaward the 
 rider swerved the horse inward to the shore at a point 
 where a slight jutting of the wall gave a nook for 
 hope, and with urging words and upraised bridle hand, 
 she fairly lifted him for the upward leap. 
 
 He gathered himself together like a cat, and sprang 
 upwards, landing squarely and safely, but trembling 
 with a great fear of the thing he had escaped. 
 
 A wild cheer went up from Oilman, but the girl, 
 looking back across the stream, took no notice of him. 
 Her glance went upward to the three Fates on the 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 13 
 
 road above. They had destined her to the quicksands 
 and the sea, and sat in their saddles, watching! 
 
 For an instant she stood up in the stirrups and 
 looked back at them, one clenched hand flung upwards 
 and then opening in a sweeping gesture as the brushing 
 aside of a contemptible thing. Not a word, or call, or 
 cry from first to last; and with that brief, direct look, 
 she lifted the bridle, and the horse again swept into 
 the same gait a steady, tireless run across the green 
 river valley. 
 
 Sargent, walking back, watched her as she grew 
 less distinct amid the tall, blooming things beyond the 
 flood of the quicksands, and, silent and safe, did not 
 know he had been a part in an allegory of life ! 
 
 "Turn the car up the hill," he said as he got back. 
 " If we had plunged in there as that girl did thinking 
 it a shallow, fordable stream it would be all up with 
 both of us by now. The least we can do is call those 
 men to a reckoning. What cowardly devils ! " 
 
 "Too late, son," said Oilman. "They faded away 
 over the range soon as the girl landed. You can t 
 follow broncos over a roadless cattle range. This is 
 not my lucky day I am not to get to Boca de la 
 Playa over there except by going up along this side of 
 the river to San Juan. It s about three miles, and as 
 this infernal stream is formed by two or three branches 
 we will only have to cross one of the lesser ones, and I 
 can get a horse for the trip back to the coast if the 
 
14 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 south branch is not fordable for a machine. We will 
 hustle a bit to see if the girl reaches the village safely." 
 
 " What a horse ! " murmured Sargent, his mind still 
 filled with the feeling of the river in flood and the 
 strength of the sea drawing the noble creature so near 
 to a death under the cliffs. 
 
 " In any other land you would remember the girl," 
 remarked Oilman, as the car sped past walnut groves 
 and stretches of almonds in bloom lining the road, 
 44 but in these ranges the children grow up with the 
 colts, and a saddle is more common than a rocking 
 chair. I told you it was worth making the trip for. 
 There is always some new thing for a tourist in the 
 Mexican country." 
 
 The girl reached the village safely, and swung from 
 her horse to the store porch a minute after Gilman 
 halted the car at the mission gate. 
 
 In the dust of the road the sweat ran in little 
 pools from the animal, but his breath came in great, 
 sure inhalations. The girl patted him with tender 
 hands, and threw the bridle to a Mexican boy. 
 
 " Care well for him, Anastacio," she said, briefly. 
 "I would have a grave now in the quicksand of San 
 Juan River but for the soul in him." 
 
 "Mother of God!" said one of the Mexicans, 
 jumping to his feet from the wooden bench in the 
 shade. "That horse have swam the river down by 
 the sea? He have brought you through the quick 
 sand and then make the run home after that?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 He was circling the animal, looking keenly over 
 its strong, graceful figure. 
 
 "Oh, yes," returned the girl, carelessly, as she went 
 down the steps, " that is nothing for my horse, Pedro 
 Morro ! And you can tell your cousin, Manuel, that 
 if he wants me to choke in the river sands, he must 
 lend me one of his own kind of horses to swim it 
 with a half-breed bronco like he tried to run in the 
 race last week! " 
 
 " Manuel ! " called Pedro Morro, as she moved 
 away, u Manuel would have sense not to take the 
 river trail today ! Yesterday before the last rain comes 
 down six of Manuel s vaqueros try to cross, and all 
 the men had to get out of the saddle and make the 
 swim. But last night the witches turn loose all at one 
 time all the water of the range in this one valley, and 
 every bank of the river is change. Manuel has sense 
 to risk no horses there today. He rides six miles 
 around first! " 
 
 "I thought so! that is because he is like his 
 broncos a coward!" 
 
 " But Senorita Querida ! " 
 
 " I know now for sure that my uncle is dying," 
 said the girl. " They know he can never again stand 
 on his feet to lash them with a quirt as he did when 
 they were boys. They are jealous of my horse because 
 it makes theirs look like mongrel dogs. You can tell 
 the handsome Manuel that for me ! " 
 
 Sargent was near enough to hear the cold, angry 
 
1 6 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 words, but without understanding Spanish, the mean 
 ings were lost to him. The man, Morro, shrugged his 
 shoulders and rolled a cigarette as he walked again 
 around the horse, eyeing it critically as the Indian 
 walked it up and down the road to cool off. The girl 
 gave Sargent one steady look. Gilman was further 
 away, at the mission gate. Then she flung a glance 
 of disdain at Morro, and ran like a boy along the line 
 of eucalyptus trees to the gate of a large house barely 
 discernible among the palms. 
 
 From her scowling face it was difficult to decide 
 whether she was altogether ugly or with the possi 
 bility of prettiness under a different mood. Sargent 
 noted, with a little pleasure at its artistic fitness, that 
 she wore a banda about her head such as he noted in 
 the Navajos of the desert. Only the older Indians 
 of the mission groups held to that primitive headgear; 
 the younger generation aspired to the sombrero, or, 
 what was even less artistic, the stiff dark felt of the 
 casual drummer for groceries or hardware. 
 
 "Good wind has that horse, " concluded Morro. 
 " I bet on him my own money next time he run in the 
 
 race." 
 
 u That also is typical," observed Gilman. "A pros 
 pect of a race, however far ahead, is a thing to dream 
 over." Then he looked down the road where teams 
 were hitched to posts, and horses stood saddled, and 
 riders were straggling in, singly and in pairs, from the 
 ranges. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 17 
 
 "Where is there a man who will hire me a horse 
 to ride to the sea?" he asked the Mexican whom the 
 girl had called Anastacio. 
 
 "The Don Lee is dying with the fall of a horse 
 down the wall of a canon," stated Anastacio, " and be 
 cause of his dying there is no work done anywhere and 
 no one to catch horses and no one to show to tourists 
 the old mission, or the carvings, or anything at all." 
 
 "How do you know we are tourists?" asked Sar 
 gent, who had already entered the plaza of the mis 
 sion and was taking great draughts of the fragrance 
 of rose and heliotrope, as his eyes ranged over the 
 green ranges and to the amethystine heights of San 
 Jacinto seen through an arch of the colonnade. 
 
 "Also there will be no empty beds in San Juan," 
 continued Anastacio. " Even the padre will sleep tonight 
 in the mission with the ghosts. The padre and the 
 lawyer and the doctor all have come from Los Angeles 
 because that so damn black Pedro horse slip back over 
 the canon wall by his hind feet and is killed dead by 
 the broke neck." 
 
 "An exceedingly humanitarian part of the world, 
 this adopted coast of yours, Gilman," remarked Sar 
 gent, " when you call in a doctor, lawyer and padre 
 because a condemned black horse breaks his neck in a 
 
 canon." 
 
 " Oh, cut it out, Lane ! " growled that dapper and 
 disgruntled person. He stared around at the mission, 
 the village, and down the street which was only the 
 
1 8 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 continuation of the main road, El Camina Real, the 
 king s highway of the old Spanish days. "We re in 
 a bad enough box without ragging the natives. If 
 Don Lee is dying, his own retainers will overflow 
 every bed and veranda and patio so far as lodging 
 goes; and, as this boy says, there will be no work 
 done anywhere until it is all over. Unless I can get a 
 horse you had better climb in there is no chance 
 for supper this side of Santa Ana." 
 
 " Oilman, you are impossible," retorted the other, 
 lifting his hat and letting the cool air of the sea sweep 
 through his brown hair. "You bring me to see the 
 ideal corner of America and would have me back out 
 because a supper is not waiting for us! Supper! I d 
 go hungry for a week for an hour of just this. If 
 every door in the village was locked against us they 
 can t lock out the sky, and the ranges, and the fra 
 grance, and this why, it s another Alhambra! Look 
 at that arch, and that dome, eighty feet high, five feet 
 thick, and never a timber that was some building! 
 And you talk of supper!" 
 
 " Oh, well, you can buy photographs of the old 
 walls; but what I wanted you to see, and write up, 
 were the round-ups and the men on the range. Even a 
 barbecue might have come in our way, and old-time 
 Spanish dances. All these things of the everyday life 
 here! A few years ago we might have seen a bull 
 fight down by the sea, but the American laws stopped 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 19 
 
 all that. They are changing things until there is little 
 character left in the land." 
 
 "With this still in sight?" and Lane Sargent waved 
 his hat from the sea to the mountains. " Oilman, you 
 are so keen on the scent of the concrete romance that 
 you never realize it is in the air about you here. Wake 
 up! You don t seem to grasp the fact that there is 
 any unusual life on this coast outside of your 
 Chinatowns and your various commercial booms." 
 
 "Have to write of the things people know about. 
 The blessed public does not really want new themes; 
 they want their old favorite dolls and toys and 
 ambitions refurbished. They want to read of the 
 things they would like to do. Every woman in the 
 audience wants to be the heroine of the melodrama, 
 else the melodrama does not make good! No use 
 racing after romance in the air; that would be too 
 close to the altitude of the poetic. Only two writers 
 in America make a living writing poetry the age 
 is out of tune for it and to come down to earth, I 
 will see if crackers and cheese are on tap at the store 
 across the plaza, also what prospect of a horse. I 
 will steer clear of the four hundred here, as it has 
 always been Don Lee s custom to keep open house, 
 and his family would ask to do the honors of the 
 pueblo as a matter of custom." 
 
 "Send this lad; he seems willing." 
 
 "& , Senores. I do all what you want. If I could 
 
2O The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 maybe get the key from Dona Carmel I open the 
 door," and he nodded towards the closed church, " but 
 unless the padre has prayers I think maybe no one 
 gets the key. Dona Carmel cannot be spoke with, 
 not all day. All so many people to be fed who have 
 come to the ranch in the kitchen it is like a day of 
 a fiesta, and they bake now the head of a young bull 
 in the pit by the olive trees." 
 
 He pointed with animation past the wall of euca 
 lyptus to where this culinary dainty was in course of 
 preparation, and Sargent smiled sympathetically on 
 the lad who was having a day full of new things, and 
 was proud to be spokesman for the village during this 
 time of stress when his seniors were absorbed in the 
 village tragedy. 
 
 "Evidently the Dona Carmel is chatelaine of both 
 the hacienda and the village chapel, likewise the deity 
 presiding over baked bulls heads," he observed. " To 
 be the padrona of a family where baked bulls are 
 served for a dinner must require considerable executive 
 ability of these Mexican wives. Contrast them 
 mentally with the presiding angel of a pink tea ! " 
 
 Anastacio halted with the money in his hand for the 
 desired lunch materials, and looked from one man to 
 the other with the ever ready suspicion of the native 
 against the Americano. He did not understand the 
 smile or reference to pink tea angels, and resenting 
 that which he did not understand, his black velvet 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 21 
 
 eyes grew sullen and his shrug was insolent and 
 meant to be. 
 
 "The Dona Carmel is not these names, and she is 
 not an angel of the pink, but my mother says she does 
 penance enough to make her a saint, and that the chil 
 dren of Dona Margarita would be altogether like wild 
 Apaches if Dona Carmel did not pray always to the 
 Virgin in the chapel. She alone sending Tomas Alvar 
 on that quick ride finding La Querida, also in her own 
 house there is a shrine and the lamp always burns 
 there ! " 
 
 He flung one slender brown hand towards a small 
 adobe house where a veranda was covered with a great 
 vine of the rose of the golden dream. " Also," he added 
 as he moved away, " Dona Carmel is not a Mexican 
 wife; she is not Mexicana and she is not wife!" 
 
 Then he stalked down the road with the horse and 
 left the two staring at each other, and Oilman 
 chuckled. 
 
 " Fancy a New England boy with that sort of local 
 pride and absurd dignity! He snubbed you as an igno 
 ramus because you did not know the social or spiritual 
 lights of the village that s one on you!" 
 
 " I think it is rather fine. The fact that he was 
 barefoot and had only one suspender did not keep 
 him from acting as champion for the saint-to-be Car 
 mel, whoever or whatever she is ! I don t know how I 
 chanced to jar his sensibilities; but it was refreshing, 
 
22 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 and what a vista he opens to the imagination ! If I 
 had not given so much time to the North Coast work, 
 and had not been actually due in the East any hour 
 in the last three days, I would camp here where saints 
 still walk the earth and save the children of Dona 
 Margarita from being altogether like wild Apaches! 
 Under the critical eyes of that barefoot grandee I 
 would not dare confess that I had never even heard of 
 Dona Margarita. Who is the lady ?" 
 
 " My evidence is no good. I never was through 
 here but once with a political delegation special 
 train. I was taking notes of what the spellbinders 
 were trying to get across to the natives at each hamlet 
 or water tank. I do remember this place because of 
 the old ruin there also recall that Don Lee Bronson 
 headed the local committee of welcome had some 
 black-browed sons looked like half-breeds, but was 
 told their mother was one of the so-called old Spanish 
 families wealthy, you know and the family politi 
 cally prominent, but not much class. There are just 
 about as many pure blood Spanish families in Cali 
 fornia as you could count on your fingers; the rest are 
 mixed bloods, yet they all call themselves Spanish. 7 
 
 " Curious, that, and over in New Mexico, where 
 more than half the Spanish names have places in his 
 tory, and every second ranchman knows his pedigree 
 for over two centuries, and the Spanish province of his 
 ancestors, one never hears a man or woman claim to 
 be Spanish they are too prou d of being Mexican! 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 23 
 
 They have some wonderful old missions there, but 
 nothing to compare with this. I can t believe the friars 
 alone ever built with such stonework north of Mexico, 
 and this setting is superb ; even the doves on the Moor 
 ish chimney and the linnet nests in the cornices fit into 
 the picture. Yes, if I had a month all my own I d 
 camp here and write a story of the place; not one about 
 the round-ups, and the bull fights, but of the sort of 
 women the boy told us of saint-like and devotional. 
 I could fancy anyone becoming religious and devo 
 tional here. That glow on the mountains is like a 
 benediction." 
 
 They had strolled from the old chancel through the 
 plaza to the inner court, and all the range of the north 
 was a flush of rose and gold as the lowering sun sent 
 floods of color through slender drifts of white cloud, 
 and against the hills were bars of faint lavender 
 shadows across the glory of color. 
 
 Oilman regarded him with quizzical lifted brows 
 and looked at his watch. 
 
 " You would find your devotional saint fat and 
 black and given to much smoking," he remarked. 
 " Most of them are that after twenty-five ; and I Ve just 
 located your Dona Margarita. She was the wife of 
 Don Lee Bronson and departed life some years ago. 
 Her father was one of the early Mexican traders of 
 this territory. She was a great heiress, who could not 
 write her own name, and was proud of it. Don Lee 
 might gamble away thousands of her money without 
 
24 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 protest; but there was civil war when he undertook to 
 pay a few hundreds for a governess for their young 
 olive branches. Yes, I remember hearing of her; she 
 was a very pious lady, and died of some sort of fit of 
 rage after horsewhipping one of her slaves with her 
 own hands one of the local celebrities for whom 
 obituaries are hard to write! Say! if you want to 
 moon around here a while longer I will follow the 
 boy and try my chance for a horse. It won t take me 
 long to cover the ground. I have the name of a fisher 
 man who may be able to give me some points if he is 
 at home. With this excitement over the accident there 
 is less chance of some native son heading me off. The 
 Chinks either landed at this shore or else crossed the 
 range from Mexico and came down the canon from 
 the hill. If the padre concludes to have services in 
 the chapel, pray that I find my fisherman and a 
 4 scoop. Lucky there is a moon it won t take long 
 to reach supper after we do hit the road. Do your 
 best with cheese and crackers until then unless, of 
 course, you would rather go over to Bronson s and be 
 introduced. But it won t be gay, and as we could not 
 see Don Lee well, the rest are characterless." 
 
 "Are they?" queried Sargent. "What about the 
 saintly lady of the shrine, and the girl who rode? 
 Querida queer name! " 
 
 " Queer? Not so much," grinned Oilman; " it means 
 * darling. Sounds nice, but she is only a scowling kid, 
 with probably a dozen saints names for her own. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 25 
 
 She looked * diabla 1 instead of darling to me; but 
 Dona Darling would look good in a write-up of the 
 range want to see her?" 
 
 Sargent shook his head and turned back to the study 
 of the old ruined walls with the traces of frescoes still 
 to be seen in sheltered nooks where the storms or the 
 linnets had failed to efface them. He was new enough 
 to the land and young enough in years to want to enjoy 
 the quaint, almost mysterious, old place, without 
 Oilman s idea of making a copy of it. 
 
 From the colonnade he caught sight of that brisk 
 workman settling himself on the back of a pinto cow 
 pony and ambling towards the sea. And Anastacio, 
 returning with the cheese and crackers, carried also an 
 invitation from the owner of the pony to come down 
 where the vaqueros had made a fire and were roasting 
 ribs of beef by the acquia, also there were vino and 
 tortillos. 
 
 Sargent hesitated. The cool air of sunset was com 
 ing down from the mountains, soon the stars would be 
 shining, and the men of the ranges would be a picture 
 worth seeing Indian and Mexican in the glow of 
 their roasting fire one could hear all the gossip of 
 the valley and the comment on the accident to the 
 padrone. 
 
 Then he looked at the great arch of the chancel, 
 and the amethystine height of San Jacinto, and put 
 aside the smaller temptation of pueblo humanity. Even 
 the slight mystery of La Querida was more fascinating 
 
26 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 than knowledge of her was likely to be. One could 
 always find groups of people, and voices, and feasting, 
 but the spell of the beautiful old ruin was a rarer thing. 
 It had a personality voiceless, yet eloquent, and he 
 shook his head, and gave Anastacio a coin and thanked 
 him. 
 
 " It is not bad to wait here and fast where the old 
 order of priests used to pray," he said. " I read of all 
 this in a book years ago and thought I had forgotten 
 but it comes back. There was one wonderful priest, 
 a musician who went mad and ended his days here. 
 You live in a place that was great, Anastacio ! " 
 
 You knowing that?" The boy s eyes were wide in 
 wonder. " Not so many Americanos knowing that. 
 They ask always the question, and no telling anything. 
 I wish I can see Dona Carmel and get that key for 
 the chapel. If she is knowing a senor devote time to 
 books of this mission I think surely she would be 
 proud that you see, but it is like I tell you, Scnor: 
 this day is one of the sad heart like crazy is all in 
 that house, and Senorita Querida is not found all day 
 until Tomas Alvar he find her pretty near too late ! 
 Every time she go like that away where old Indios 
 dry the abalone, or gather acorns, or make ollas in the 
 canon; the Spanish sehoritas make themselves too 
 proud and rich for that but Don Lee he always 
 laugh, and call her his boy, and let her go, arid the old 
 Indios taking care of her. But Dona Carmel praying 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 27 
 
 all the time, too, and I think maybe that praying help 
 more than the Indios. What you think?" 
 
 It was a delight to watch the boy as he made these 
 disjointed announcements of the pueblo life. The fact 
 that Sargent had read in books concerning the old 
 mission aroused in him an eagerness that the stranger 
 should see the interior of the chapel, though it would 
 be too dark to see the embroideries and robes in the 
 sacristy. 
 
 An old man with a cane came slowly across the 
 plaza under the pepper tree and made a signal to 
 Anastacio. 
 
 "You are to ring the bells, the padre is to say a 
 rosary, go for the key," he said in English with a 
 strong German accent. " I will help you with the 
 lights, for the Dona Carmel scarcely can come now. 
 Even the doctor can not say how soon the end is." 
 
 He rested himself on one of the long wooden 
 benches, while the boy jangled the bells in the usual 
 discordant clamor of a Mexican chapel. Sargent 
 exclaimed at the racket, but the old man smiled. 
 
 "They have no nerves, these Mexicans," he 
 remarked. Yes, they can all strum a guitar, or sing 
 a serenade, but that is what they all do to the mission 
 bells. It sounds like hammers and anvil. Once they 
 say there were men who could ring chimes on them in 
 this valley, but in forty years I have heard no chimes ! " 
 
 Sargent offered him a cigar as he studied the quaint, 
 square face. 
 
28 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Forty years ! Yet you do not appear as a native," 
 he remarked. 
 
 "Sailor once, sheep man now. Don Andres they 
 call me. Every white man was a * don in the old days. 
 I come in, bought sheep, got a good herder, and sailed 
 away. A three years of cruise and I am back again. 
 It is a good harbor, and I am still here. Before Don 
 Lee came in with the Mormons I am here. He gets 
 the wife, and the horses, and cattle, and is a big man 
 to these people. I stick to sheep, and I am now the 
 only one of his sort left to have the bells ring for 
 him. When I go there will be only some old Mexicans 
 and Indians to tell how it was when I come into the 
 harbor. . These new Americans never will know. San 
 Juan was a place where great games were played. 
 Down by the sea was the race course and place of the 
 bull fights. A cart full of adobe dollars I have seen 
 hauled down the valley for making the bets. There 
 are no such games now in California, and none of the 
 old-time grandees. Don Lee was nearest to it; he was 
 like a big prince out of a book to all these people, and 
 there will be no more like that." 
 
 u Who is the girl who rode the cream horse today 
 from Aliso Canon and swam the river?" 
 
 The old man shrugged and smiled. 
 
 " If you ask her cousins, Maria and Dolores, they 
 will tell you she is at least the granddaughter of the 
 devil; that is because she is a heretic, like me," and he 
 lit the cigar and puffed it contentedly. " To these peo- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 29 
 
 pie all are heretics except their own. Querida is the 
 niece of Don Lee, the child of his sister. The father 
 brought her, a little toddler, to California and left her 
 with Dona Margarita and her cloudy brood not one 
 of Don Lee s children but look like their own Mexican 
 ancestors. The father of that girl was a great scholar, 
 so I know; it was good to hear his German. He went 
 to Mexico to study the Indian people and their old- 
 time writings, for they did have their own kind of 
 books, the old Mexicans. Well, he died there, did 
 Don Roberto, of a fever, and little Querida lives on 
 like his own with Don Lee. That poor Querida ! 
 maybe it goes hard with her now. You saw that 
 ride?" 
 
 Sargent told him, and the old fellow listened, 
 nodding and comprehending more than the two 
 Americans. 
 
 " Manuel s horse lost the race to that palomino 
 last week," he remarked. " Maybe he thinks it is easy 
 to get rid of it if the quicksands help him, or the river 
 takes them out to sea." 
 
 " But the girl?" 
 
 "The girl is as a thorn to Manuel; his vanity has 
 been hurt and his horse beaten by her also she is an 
 outsider. Manuel would burn her as a witch and his 
 conscience would not make him trouble. To be a girl 
 in that brood, and be a heretic is a bad thing here. 
 Manuel is the nephew of the padre " 
 
 Sargent sat listening to these grim, matter of fact 
 
30 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 statements from the old gossip, who chuckled at being 
 regarded as a heretic, yet conceded it was a bad thing 
 for a girl. 
 
 And after they talked of many things, and the purple 
 dusk had fallen, the boy came back with the chapel 
 key. Don Andres went to the door to see that he lit 
 the candles on the little wall brackets, and directly the 
 Mexicans began to straggle out from doorways and 
 gardens and across the plaza. Then the padre came 
 up with two men who spoke English. Sargent con 
 cluded they were the doctor and lawyer from the city, 
 but he kept to his shadowy corner where the ivy grew. 
 The devout Mexican women, with the black mantillas, 
 and the swarthy vaqueros and barefoot children were 
 more in accord with the scene than the yawning, bored, 
 professional men, who peered into the little chapel, 
 where the more devout knelt on the tiled floor, and 
 then sauntered again to the village street. 
 
 " Sometimes, when the boys are drinking wine, and 
 not working, they are not so respectful, and they make 
 foolishness in the plaza even with the prayers inside 
 the chapel," remarked the old man, "so I stay here 
 and keep watch. It is a disgrace if they interrupt a 
 prayer for Don Lee there are his daughters, Maria 
 and Dolores. Maria is the beauty, and is soon to 
 marry with a rich boy of the valley." 
 
 Maria certainly was a beauty, but would have been 
 more truly so had it not been for the dead white 
 powder and frank rouge on her young cheek. It was 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 31 
 
 startling to Sargent, who had not hithertofore come 
 in contact with this lurid custom of many Mexican 
 ladies. But she was slender, with a pretty oval face, 
 big black eyes and magnificent black hair. A string of 
 pearls circled her round throat, and little crosses of 
 them formed her earrings. She carried herself as if 
 used to admiration, while her younger, less brilliant 
 sister wore amber beads and a rebosa of amber silk 
 over her white gown. Neither of them seemed in 
 grief; each noted and acknowledged the greetings of 
 the villagers as the light from the chapel door streamed 
 out in the growing dusk. The padre had lit the candles 
 on the altar, and each figure was silhouetted against 
 the glow as they entered the doorway. 
 
 And then a woman came quickly across the twilight 
 of the plaza, and halted a moment ere she entered. 
 Sargent sat up in astonishment, and Don Andres beside 
 him turned at his gasp of surprise. The others had 
 been of the ordinary peasant type even those who 
 wore jewels and were pretty. 
 
 This one wore no jewels, and the silk of her dress 
 and lace of her mantilla were dead black and very 
 fine. There was pride in the carriage of her head, 
 yet a strange humility in her eyes, but beyond all there 
 was a still atmosphere of sadness in the dark eyes and 
 high-bred Spanish face; it enfolded her, as did the 
 drapery of black lace falling to her little slippered feet. 
 In her hand were white lilies for the altar the get 
 ting of them had evidently delayed her a trifle and 
 
32 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 she halted on the threshold, either to reassure herself 
 concerning the progress of the service, or to regain her 
 breath, for she had hurried. Only an instant she stood 
 in the ray of light from the altar. It touched her lightly 
 as the rays of the sun outlined the slender curve of the 
 new moon, leaving the rest in shadow. She suggested 
 a dark and very perfect star crossing some path of 
 brightness and melting again into dusk, and a moment 
 later the silken folds of her gown rustled on the bare 
 tiles as she knelt in the aisle beside an old Indian 
 woman bare of foot and workworn with years. 
 
 To Sargent her coming out of the twilight and, 
 after one glowing moment, sinking into a mass of 
 sombre, lace-draped curves, was as a vision of Old 
 Spain seen through the Moorish arch of the corridor 
 Old Spain with the heart of youth and the foreboding 
 sadness of death. She looked perhaps thirty-five. 
 
 "What a wonder of a woman!" breathed Sargent 
 " I know artists who would cross land and sea for one 
 picture of her like that!" 
 
 "Some have come here for that, but always went 
 away again. Don Lee saw to it that they went away," 
 and the old man chuckled. "All he in this valley got 
 he held to since the day he camped first under the live 
 oaks over there except, of course, what a man would 
 lose on a game or a race. Horses and women he 
 could keep ! " 
 
 "Horses and women! But these girls of his family 
 are different, without blood or race, and you say they 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 33 
 
 are like their mother s people! This woman 
 heavens ! She is all twilight and white lilies and burn 
 ing eyes. She is a princess or a ghost of Moorish 
 Spain!" 
 
 " One grandfather was Gobernador of Old Cali 
 fornia/ said Don Andres, quietly. " One was a sol 
 dier of Mexico, and her father was a priest. Yes, it 
 was good blood! " 
 
 " A priest!" 
 
 "The bishop sent him somewhere else for Indian 
 missions after that. He never came back to California. 
 There was no trouble about it. The mother was a 
 good daughter of the church while she lived; her child 
 was a new toy without a name in the house of the old 
 Gobernador while he lived; but after that and all 
 the money was gone, well after that Don Lee sees 
 her, and a girl is not a meadow-lark to grow her 
 clothes and pick her food from the fields ! Yes, Don 
 Lee saw her and that is more than ten years now; 
 yes, more than twelve. There was no woman in his 
 house save such as men always have, and his children 
 were running wild. Now I hear these same children 
 are wild in another way with fear that at the last 
 he might marry her; men do strange things like that 
 at the last sometimes! It would be bad, and some 
 accident would surely happen her in some night time." 
 
 " Good heavens ! Yet in breeding and training she 
 is no doubt the superior of the woman he did marry! " 
 
 " Sure, she can read and can write, but it would make 
 
34 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 trouble. They are jealous of her like they are of little 
 Querida; just the same, Don Lee gives her, long ago, 
 the little house and orchard, and even that made jeal 
 ousy with the children they love money it was his 
 own money, too. But I think the padre would find 
 some reason not to make a marriage between Don Lee 
 and Dona Carmel, though everyone knows her a saint 
 and to his children she has been also a martyr." 
 
 " Dona Carmel ! That is Dona Carmel? " 
 
 " Surely, and, as I say, she has been also a martyr. 
 No Indian slave would do for his children what she 
 has done these years that is how it is with a woman 
 of race and blood who is faithful to a Don Lee. It 
 is all no use if she has not also the name ! " 
 
 There was a slight tinge of bitterness in the old 
 man s voice at the last, though all the rest of his ram 
 bling, low toned discourse had been quite casual, as a 
 series of incidents long familiar and often discussed. 
 
 u But it is incredible ! A woman like that, charming, 
 well bred, could have the world at her feet instead of 
 being the patron saint of an old Indian pueblo. The 
 world makes a way for such women, and some of them 
 have worn crowns ! " 
 
 "When a woman like Dona Carmel has love for a 
 man a crown is not of so much worth as a crust of 
 bread he could give her. I have years, and I have seen 
 that in many lands. It looks foolish to the world, but 
 the women who care for crowns could never in a life- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 35 
 
 time know a minute of the heart of Dona Carmelita. 
 She thinks she adores the saints and the God. Maybe 
 once it was so, but not now not since she has come to 
 San Juan. I wonder sometimes if she even lives when 
 he is gone, so much she lives her life in his ! " 
 
 The voice of the old man trailed away thoughtfully. 
 The village tragedy had stirred up buried things and 
 memories, and to utter them to a stranger was as if 
 they were spoken to oneself, or only thought. 
 
 "What a brute the man must be!" said Sargent; 
 but Don Andres lifted his hand in protest. 
 
 " No, no ! He has done good to many. Many men 
 have little ranches today of their own, and have good 
 houses for wives and children who were given their 
 first start with the cattle and the flour of Don Lee. 
 Everyone says that. All say he was a good padrone ; 
 all these people on their knees in there are praying 
 for him that says something!" 
 
 " Perhaps it says they want patronage from his 
 children when he is gone," agreed Sargent; "but to 
 take the girl, a girl like that, to take advantage of such 
 feeling as she had for him, and then not protect her! " 
 
 "It would have made trouble," persisted the old 
 man. " There was a time when the name of Don Lee 
 was spoken of for Gobernador. It would have made 
 trouble the American papers print all things. Yes, 
 she was as his slave, and had beauty, and was a saint in 
 her heart, and had the blood of learned people, but 
 
36 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 all would go for nothing when the name of her father 
 was not given to her by the church all would go for 
 nothing for a wife of a Gobernador." 
 
 " If he was a man he would send the nomination 
 to hell, marry the woman, and take her out of the 
 country ! " 
 
 u Don Lee was a man, but not that kind of a man. 
 To go to a strange land would lose for him all the 
 power here, and he had much power. No, he lived 
 as was the custom. No one thought ill of him. The 
 satin slippers and laces show he was kind, and there 
 is the little house in the orchard all her own. No one 
 thinks ill of Don Lee." 
 
 "He is kind and she is saintly!" said Sargent, 
 grimly. "Then why should she be barred from mar 
 riage, when men marry women who are not saintly 
 every day? In this valley, at the edge of a world, 
 what difference would it make to society?" 
 
 " It is the custom. So long as he does not marry 
 her she is not seen to belong to him, and his fine 
 friends come down with their wives from Los Angeles 
 and visit and ride and have great sports. They close 
 their eyes to the woman who lives in the little house 
 of the orange orchard; she is not of his family! But 
 if he makes a marriage with a daughter of a priest it 
 would be a scandal and no wives would come with the 
 husbands. It is strange, and it is the women who do 
 it, not the men, but it is the custom. To get to the 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 37 
 
 bottom of it is a big trouble. Don Lee did the easiest 
 thing when he did not marry." 
 
 " Easiest for him, perhaps, but what of the woman? 
 What will become of her?" 
 
 " Here the people adore her, they understand, and 
 she has her little house and a shrine in it, where the 
 light never goes out. That helps some women, many 
 
 women." 
 
 His voice trailed away again as if talking to con 
 vince himself. He was evidently tired; it had been a 
 day of excitement, and he was old. 
 
 The "Ave Maria" came to them as the moon came 
 over San Juan mountain, and then the murmur of 
 voices, and the tones of the padre in the final blessing. 
 The people came slowly out, but once beyond the cor 
 ridor fell to chatting, and flirting, and laughing softly 
 as they went through the plaza. No one noticed the 
 two men in the old seat by the wall ; the ivy and a great 
 rosebush screened them. 
 
 Anastacio emerged and stood at the door with the 
 key. The padre entered the sacristy to doff his cas 
 sock, and came out through a side door, greeting the 
 old man airily. 
 
 "Hi! Don Andres, do I find you making your devo 
 tions outside the chapel in the dark? Well, well, at 
 last we will get you inside and save you in spite of 
 yourself! Come, we will walk down to Don Lee s 
 and have a glass of good wine, and then you will tell 
 
38 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 us some of the pirate tales your old captains told, * 
 and he moved on to greet a group loitering for him in 
 the plaza, taking it for granted the old man would 
 follow. 
 
 Don Andres straightened up and touched his 
 sombrero to Sargent. 
 
 "Adios, compadre" he said, whimsically, "we cov 
 ered forty years here in the old mission in not more 
 than forty minutes. I had joy in your cigar even if 
 you did not flavor it with charity." 
 
 "Charity?" 
 
 "Yes, you could give Don Lee justice, but I could 
 not find mercy in your words, or understanding. 
 You are young. Come you back to San Juan in ten 
 years, or when you are the age of Don Lee, and watch 
 the moon rise over the ruins once again. Adiosl" 
 
 "Adios! If I do come back, and it should be twenty 
 years, I shall not forget the twilight here or your 
 story!" 
 
 "A man can forget and remember again many times 
 in twenty years," said the old man as he moved away. 
 ;< You are still young." 
 
 Sargent laughed, and keeping pace he thrust some 
 more of the approved cigars into his hand, and moved 
 hastily back to avoid his thanks or remonstrance. In 
 doing so he came close to Anastacio, still at the door, 
 his hat in his hand and his head bent. He had made 
 no move to snuff the candles even on the altar. 
 
 Sargent, looking through the door, saw why. The 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 39 
 
 woman in his mind he already called her "The 
 Woman of the Twilight" was kneeling at the altar 
 of the Virgin, and the lilies were heaped about the 
 feet of the statue. The service of the padre had been 
 conventional, but there was nothing conventional in 
 the silent prayer of the woman as she knelt with up- 
 reached arms and face lifted to the goddess of mother- 
 love. The lace had fallen from her hair, and the slow 
 tears brimming over her wide-open eyes accentuated 
 the very essence of supplication in her face. 
 
 The hand of Sargent fell on the shoulder of the 
 boy as he drew him from the sight of a grief too per 
 sonal for other eyes, and as he did so he remembered 
 Don Andres 1 words, u These Mexicans have no 
 nerves." For Anastacio was sorry for Dona Carmel, 
 and respectful, yet once away from the sight of her 
 tears he was eager and interested in other things. 
 
 u You seeing Don Andres and hearing him talk?" 
 he said. " Chris to! how he can remember in his mind. 
 They say his head was hit on a ship and when he is 
 asked question he forgets to stop with the talk. But 
 me, I wishing I had to see all the places he has seen, 
 there is more than fifty places! But he has make 
 money on the sheep, plenty money, and he talks four 
 ways for the different countries." 
 
 "Is he married?" asked Sargent. 
 
 " Who, Don Andres? No, he is not marry. Dona 
 Marta, who is Indio, she keeping his house, and do all 
 what is done. Chris to! how she whipping the boys 
 
 
4<D The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 who make to steal the figs in her garden. No, not so 
 many Americanos marry, only Don Lee once, that was 
 long ago. Don Andres is not Americano; he is not 
 Spanish, but he coming here a long time now. My 
 grandfather, he is remembering that time." 
 
 They had walked to the far end of the corridor, 
 and in the moonlight Sargent could make out a pinto 
 cow pony coming up the road. His attention for a 
 moment was concentrated on trying to make out if it 
 was or was not Gilman returning from the beach, and 
 he did not see a slender figure like a low-flying night 
 bird under the orange trees until it had almost reached 
 the chapel door. 
 
 " It is La Querida," stated Anastacio. " She never 
 comes for prayer, she is heretic, but always she comes 
 for Dona Carmel in the night, for Dona Carmel is 
 scare of the darkness. No Spanish senorita would 
 come here where ghosts are only La Querida. She 
 is like a boy, that girl. Manuel Morro says she is a 
 witch and is bad. I no knowing how that is, but Dona 
 Carmel sure is knowing, and is loving her mucho." 
 They had halted under the pepper tree, and could 
 see that by someone the lights on the altar were being 
 extinguished one by one, until the chapel was more 
 dusky than the moonlit plaza. Then, when only one 
 candle was left glimmering in its sconce on the wall, 
 the woman of the lilies was led through the door by 
 the girl, and her rich contralto voice called impera 
 tively. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 41 
 
 "Anastacio ! where is that key?" 
 
 Anastacio pressed the arm of Sargent for silence ere 
 he ran forward with silent bare feet. 
 
 " It is here, Senorita! I have wait to make the door 
 lock. I not going away while Dona Carmel is at the 
 altar." 
 
 "H m!" Sargent could not see the face of the 
 girl, but he could note the irony of the tone. " Since 
 when are you so fine a caballero, Anastacio? And 
 what will you expect for it tomorrow? Lock the door 
 and follow." 
 
 Anastacio padded past her into the chapel to blow 
 out the candle, and the two strange, shadowy figures 
 passed near to Sargent, who leaned against the bole 
 of the pepper tree. Their arms circled each other, 
 and the woman of the tragic life rested her head on the 
 shoulder of the girl, who walked with a certain pride 
 and dominance. 
 
 " It is for you also I am praying, Querida," said 
 Dona Carmel, sadly. " I cannot tell you there in the 
 house, Maria always is listening. But it will be well 
 with you, and you will go away from San Juan. I 
 write yesterday a telegram for Don Lee to a friend, an 
 Americano in San Francisco. He will come, he will 
 take you to maybe your own people." 
 
 " I have no own people ! " said the girl. " I will 
 stay with you. I have no people but a black woman 
 who was my nurse she is South, far away, where my 
 mother died I will stay with you!" 
 
42 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " And carry always a dagger, Querida?" asked the 
 woman, sadly. "No, poor little one, the American 
 friends will come and will take you where it is safe. 
 I am not strong enough, alone, to guard you. And 
 always I will be alone!" 
 
 Sargent, with the story of her life yet murmuring 
 through his mind, felt the tears in his eyes at the 
 pathos in her voice, but the girl threw up her head in 
 disdain of all danger. 
 
 "Huh!" and her exclamation sounded to Sargent 
 half Indian, " I can guard myself from all danger, 
 always. Where is that boy? He needs the reata 
 all of them are full of tricks ! " 
 
 " I am here, Senorita, and here is the key, 1 * said the 
 agile Anastacio as he sped past Sargent. " I am walk 
 ing behind you to the door of your house. " 
 
 He delivered the key, and then fell behind, and 
 promptly sped back to Sargent under the pepper tree. 
 
 "Adios, Sehor" he whispered. " I sure get that 
 reata to morrow if she knowing I let her go past you 
 in the dark so close you could touch her with the hand ! 
 Your friend, he is coming, and I not seeing you any 
 more, but you not forgetting San Juan? Adios, and 
 gracios Senor, mucho gracios!" 
 
 In his delight at the dollar slipped into his hand he 
 almost forgot his English, also his whisper, and only 
 the arrival of Gilman, halting by the automobile, saved 
 him from the discovery of having had a companion in 
 the plaza. 
 
"And always I will be alone" 
 
44 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 something. 4 My Woman of the Twilight is perfect 
 to me as I see her; I don t want to see her in any other 
 light. She is love, primitive love touched by religious 
 fervor, not a thought of political or social law, only the 
 law of human nature confused and puzzled by rulings 
 of state ! " 
 
 "H m, yes," grunted Gilman, "you ll sober up to 
 morrow, but pueblo wine does give one a devil of a 
 headache. Now, what do you suppose we are going 
 to strike next on the way to supper?" 
 
 For they had reached a narrow place in the road 
 between the mesa and a barranca, and a waving light 
 was in the road, while a man, swearing and unseen, 
 was tinkering under an automobile. A chauffeur, shaky 
 but polite, was waving the lantern. 
 
 " No, sir," he said in reply to Oilman s query. " I 
 don t think we need any assistance. It is all right now, 
 sir, and if you will only go carefully you can make it 
 around us, but in a minute or more, sir, we will be out 
 of the way." 
 
 The man from under the car crawled out, growling 
 about having been given an old junk heap for a car, 
 also stating what he would do to the garage people 
 when he got back to Los Angeles. 
 
 He gave no heed whatever to the two men in the 
 other car. 
 
 "Go ahead!" he said, curtly. "It s dollars to 
 doughnuts we won t reach San Juan tonight at this 
 rate!" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 45 
 
 As the car started slowly the light flashed on the 
 face of the speaker and Gilman whistled softly as he 
 sped his own car ahead. 
 
 "Say," he remarked, "what do you suppose any of 
 the simon-pure Plymouth Rock breed is after on this 
 mesa trail? That sure did look like Glyndon Wayne 
 of way down East. I had to interview him once on a 
 gambling mix-up, but his folks came in and fairly 
 bought up the paper to squelch my brilliant article." 
 
 "The only Wayne I know is a pretty girl. Don t 
 know your traveler," said Sargent. In fact, he had 
 scarcely seen the man his mind was full of a mission 
 plaza, and a woman like the new moon at twilight. 
 
 You are no poorer," was Oilman s comment. "He 
 has sown wild oats enough to make up for all the sup 
 pression of his Puritan ancestors. This looks like a 
 clear road ahead, and if you went to prayer meeting 
 at that old chapel I hope you said at least one prayer 
 for a good supper at Santa Ana ! I m starving. Me 
 for the fatted sheep and the festive high-ball." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 ^T^HE sun was high above the hills when the doctor 
 -* from Los Angeles, followed by a servant with 
 coffee, went to the guest chamber of the hacienda and 
 aroused the man who had arrived so late in the 
 automobile. 
 
 " He is awake and can see you now, Mr. Wayne. I 
 had to give him that morphine to brace him up for the 
 talk he wants. To talk won t hurt him as much as to 
 fret about it. So go ahead; he is good for a spurt, 
 but only his marvelous strength has staved off the final 
 collapse. The man has been actually dying for over 
 twenty-four hours. While you see him I will take a 
 rest and trust you and Dona Carmel. Keep out his 
 various groups of children unless he asks for them. 
 He only seems to worry about that younger one, the 
 fair one; they tell me she is his niece instead of 
 daughter Querida they call her but when I called 
 her that she called me down! a pugnacious little ani 
 mal informed me her name was Monica, and 
 Querida was only a baby name and not for strangers. * 
 
 The stranger heard this without comment as he swal 
 lowed his coffee, adjusted collar and tie and slipped on 
 coat. 
 
 The doctor had stretched himself out on a couch 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 47 
 
 watching him, and wondering why, since the lawyer 
 had attended to all legal details, the coming of this 
 stranger had been so eagerly waited for by Lee 
 Bronson. 
 
 As he passed along the hall he met the pretty Maria, 
 who welcomed him with sweet, conventional phrase, 
 and Dona Carmel, who had no words, but whose dark 
 eyes told her fears. 
 
 She followed him into the room of Don Lee, 
 arranged the pillows, gave him a glass of water and 
 then slipped out like a shadow, after murmuring some 
 warning to little Juanito, who plied a great fan of pea 
 cock feathers. Juanito was the little brown Mercury 
 who served Don Lee instead of a bell. 
 
 The man on the bed reached out his hand but said 
 no word of greeting. He was looking as with new 
 eyes on an old comrade, seeking to find that which 
 had been lacking in the others around him. He saw a 
 man about forty, good-looking and self-satisfied; a man 
 who carried himself with a consciousness of domina 
 tion, yet it had something of the quality of a pretty 
 woman used to admiration. Not that he was effem 
 inate, yet beside the rugged herculean man on the bed 
 he almost looked so. His dress was rather that of the 
 clubs than of the ranges, and if he had been English 
 he would have been deemed a remittance man by the 
 average Californian. His hands were small and well 
 cared for, and his eyes so dark that under their curled 
 black lashes they looked almost black. They were 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 quick, restless eyes, and took in the entire room at a 
 glance. The steady gaze of Don Lee made them 
 waver, and he sighed and seated himself by the bed. 
 
 " I am sorry it has come to this, Bronson," he said, 
 "and if it was legal details, or " 
 
 " No, it is personal, family," said Don Lee, still 
 gazing at him in that speculative way difficult to under 
 stand. " I don t know, we have been friends, even 
 partners at times, for twenty years, you and me. You 
 know all this," and he made a slight gesture, indicating 
 either the household or the endless ranges, " and I m 
 wondering " 
 
 "Don t wonder or waste strength, Bronson. I 
 opened the telegram and caught the first train. If it s 
 a family affair I m not sure but what I could beat a 
 lawyer, for your family has always been quite a propo 
 sition with its various shadings. I am at least elastic." 
 
 " Yes, that is what I was thinking I never thought 
 of it before you ve been ranging, and " 
 
 "And not always popular with my own folks. You 
 were lucky enough to be born in Georgia instead of 
 Massachusetts, so you never knew what it meant to 
 have to fit yourself into a Puritan scale of thought, or 
 else be tabooed as the black sheep ; but if those Nevada 
 shares pan out big I 11 go back and make them all sit 
 up and take notice ! But now, right here, what can I 
 do for your family? I hear your little beauty, Maria, 
 is to marry the son of Galvez soon, and you say the 
 legal things are settled." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 49 
 
 "Yes, Dona Margarita s children, of course, were 
 arranged for. That part of the estate will not be 
 divided. Maria will have this home she and Galvez 
 will keep up the old Spanish ways her mother s way. 
 The wedding must not wait because of this. I have 
 told the padre and the boys, Jose and Ricardo they 
 will manage the ranch matters. There is money enough 
 for all. But Monica, my little one, Querida " 
 
 He was silent a bit while Wayne watched him, wait 
 ing. When he did speak it was to ask, "Where have 
 you been these months? It s a year since you were 
 here last." 
 
 "Yes. I was in Mexico a while, then San Fran 
 
 cisco." 
 
 "Is there a woman there?" 
 " For me ? No one woman anywhere." 
 There was a long silence. He seemed trying to make 
 plans, yet helpless. 
 
 " Bronson, speak out. You want me to do some 
 thing. Don t worry and think over it; tell me straight, 
 that s why I m here." 
 
 " It s the child, Monica ; she will be a woman. Not 
 a woman for this black and tan region! You you 
 never knew her mother, else you d see why. The 
 blood is different. She is a little rebel to everything 
 here, and a fighter, like a boy. You see it was a boy 
 her mother wanted, not a girl, and now, now " 
 
 "I see. You want me to do something for her 
 what?" 
 
5O The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Marry her." 
 
 Wayne stared at him with the thought that delirium 
 had taken a hand in the game. Lee Bronson sensed it 
 and smiled in a wan, troubled way. 
 
 "No, I m not loco, yet, but I ve been milling this 
 thing in my mind ever since the doctor gave his verdict. 
 I have no folks, her father s people are all gone, there 
 is a little plantation down there in Georgia for her, 
 some money here. It is n t money, it s folks she needs. 
 You have them and are free. The padre knows I 
 want it this way he will talk to her. Take her as a 
 boy, a protege; let the marriage relation side of the 
 question go only protect her by your name for a few 
 years. She is not safe here a white snowdrop in 
 this brown hell, and all these half-castes watching her 
 like wolves! Can t you see? I d send her to a con 
 vent, but in the end this is where she d come back to 
 to her only home. I want a different home. This is 
 all right, a sort of paradise for a man, but it would be 
 hell for a girl who is who is different from all the 
 rest. That s what I had on my mind that s all." 
 
 Wayne walked to the window and stared out over 
 the eucalyptus trees to the blue sea beyond. 
 
 "It s a gamble, Bronson," he said at last. "I d 
 rather give the cards a chance, or even pitch pennies 
 to decide, but we two have done nearly everything 
 except get married for each other in the last twenty 
 years, and I am game to try it. She will probably balk, 
 but I have some cousins and aunts to help along, and it 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 51 
 
 may wake up another woman who thinks she is going 
 to keep me forever in a trance. My Protestant, puri 
 tanical women relatives may not suit your little mission 
 girl much better than I would. Her teachers have, I 
 suppose, been the padre and your housekeeper. * 
 
 " You will find a creedless mind, a virgin field. There 
 has been so much of jealousy. Dona Margarita s chil 
 dren have been always unquestioning, devout. They 
 have always called Monica * heretic because her par 
 ents were of another creed, and it has borne fruit. She 
 mocks the things they worship and makes little gods of 
 her own out of clay like the Indians; concocts weird 
 prayers to them, and altogether creates havoc in the 
 house. The Mexicans are half afraid of her, yet it is 
 only reckless daring, the protest against their forms." 
 
 "You don t try to draw a picture attractive to a 
 
 man." 
 
 "Whatever games we ve shared together I haven t 
 ever lied to you, and this is no time to begin. She is a 
 stray here, a rebel, an outsider. Her mother, my 
 sister, was perfection. She belonged to the Puritan 
 colonial days a Protestant saint lifted from a white 
 altar. So, I want her daughter taken out of the life 
 here. I had planned it for next year Europe for a 
 while, and then back to the little Georgia plantation 
 afterwards after Maria was married here, and the 
 divisions of the land made all that, and now " 
 
 His voice trailed into silence, utter weariness, in 
 rehearsing the one failure of his otherwise materially 
 
52 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 successful life. His lands reached from the mountains 
 to the sea, and a regiment of retainers, Mexican and 
 Indian, fed daily from his stores, yet the weight of 
 care for one little woman child suddenly made all his* 
 life seem a failure. 
 
 " I will make it all right, Bronson," said his visitor 
 at last; "no need to fret over that. My family cut a 
 rather wide swath in their own territory, so she is sure 
 of family and position, even though I am not regarded 
 as a shining light. As to money, you have lent me 
 enough to know I am not weighted by wealth, yet 
 there are those Nevada mining shares bound to make 
 good in time. The niece of Don Lee Bronson and 
 the granddaughter of Colonel Sturtevante should make 
 a better match than this, but I 11 take care of her till 
 she gets tired, and the future can look after itself." 
 
 Lee Bronson reached out his hand and settled back 
 on the pillow with a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Go, Juanito," he said to the Indian boy wielding 
 the great feather fan, " find La Querida, and the padre, 
 and " He lay with closed eyes, smiling. He had 
 ordered all things to his own content. All his life he 
 had dominated, and it could not occur to him that his 
 choice was not the best, or that the child who made 
 her own gods of clay might turn rebel against his 
 decree. 
 
 u Let me go and find her," suggested Wayne. "It 
 might make it easier than to break it to her through 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 53 
 
 the padre. I think I will know her from the rest, 
 though you certainly have a varied collection here." 
 
 He spoke truly, for the various branches of Dona 
 Margarita s family were all represented. They were 
 really gathered in courtesy and kindliness to show 
 respect to Don Lee; and the lower rooms and the patio 
 were filled by black-garbed women, toddling children, 
 and men who rolled cigarettes and talked of the herds, 
 the crops, or the memories of Bronson s lusty youth, 
 when he had come among them a stranger as a young 
 god from the north, and in a day was as one with 
 them, and ever had been. 
 
 Several of the men greeted Wayne, the Americano, 
 courteously as the well-remembered friend of Don Lee, 
 and he went on through the groups with the conscious 
 ness that they had always greeted him thus as an 
 Americano while Bronson, as American as himself, 
 had, from the first, been a compadre instead of an 
 outsider. 
 
 It gave him momentarily the point of view cf Bron 
 son, who could not die and leave his sister s child an 
 alien among his own children. Among all the group 
 there he could think of only one who would possibly 
 remain faithfully devoted to her, and that was Dona 
 Carmel, who had lived many love years as first favorite 
 of the dying man the gentle, devoted Carmelita 
 with her many prayers, her ever burning candles, and 
 her lack of any hope of recompense save the right of 
 love to serve. 
 
54 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 He wondered how he could make clear to his New 
 England aunts that Dona Carmelita was really a very 
 good woman, and infinitely the superior of Dona Mar 
 garita, a passionate, purse-proud creature, with a 
 vanity based entirely on worldly possessions and the 
 mastery over a little army of Mexican and Indian 
 retainers. 
 
 He was thinking of these things as he followed 
 Juanito along the irrigation ditch to the deeper 
 shadows of the fragrant eucalyptus grove. 
 
 " Are you taking me to the Indian homes in the wil 
 lows ? " he asked, and the boy flashed a smile, but shook 
 his head. 
 
 "Some days she does go there to learn their 
 witchcraft, it is said but not this day. The Don Lee 
 sleeps that she cannot make talk with him, and old 
 Diego Miguel has brought new clay from the hills for 
 ollas, and La Querida learns Chris to! she learns all 
 so in a hurry so she hides from the women." 
 
 She evidently was really hiding from them, for she 
 had made a wattled screen towards the house, and was 
 kneeling beside a water jar fashioned of coils of clay, 
 and smoothed inside and out by a primitive knife a 
 mere slab of flattened stone and accepted meekly the 
 critical grunts of a withered old Indian, who was 
 engaged upon another and a larger vessel. 
 
 She flushed as her visitor approached, and glanced 
 at her skirt soiled by the clay and water, and at her 
 hands, which she could not offer in greeting. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 55 
 
 " But you are welcome, Don Glyn," she said, " even 
 though this mule, this most stupid bronco (meaning 
 Juanito), should be lashed for not making me a sign 
 from the window! You see the window of my uncle 
 from here, and I left this rabbit with a feather fan and 
 towel to wave from the window if I am wanted, or if 
 my uncle awakes; but he is such a spy to want to see 
 that he does not signal but comes. Never again will I 
 trust you toad! " 
 
 Juanito, at a safe distance behind the big, strong 
 American, only blinked at this outburst words fall 
 lightly in comparison with other weapons, and it was 
 his lucky day, because her hands were too slippery 
 to hold him and she had no quirt. 
 
 Wayne surveyed her with considerable surprise. As 
 she stood up she was taller than the old Indian beside 
 her; in the year since he had seen her she had shot up 
 like the reeds by the river in the early summer. This 
 reed had little form only great gray eyes under dark 
 brows a thin, almost hungry face, and two braids of 
 hair hanging long and rope-like over her shoulders; 
 hair of brown with reddish glints in it. Her skin was 
 very white and absolutely without color; only the full 
 mutinous lips were so red that Wayne thought he had 
 never seen teeth look so white by contrast. All the 
 life in her face was in the lips and the gray eyes, in 
 which there were golden lights or were they green? 
 The impression was of a still white mask through which 
 a soul peered out, yet hid itself. It was not the face of 
 
5 6 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 the pretty child he had sauntered out to find she was 
 not pretty yet she was something more. In that 
 first glance he had seen why poor Bronson was weighed 
 down with the responsibility of this young rebel, as he 
 called her. She was so much an outsider that she had 
 not even acquired the suave manner of her olive-skinned 
 cousins, neither had she the girlish note of the Anglo- 
 Saxon maid. She was a silver pheasant astray among 
 the brown fowl of the barnyard; yet, even while the 
 thought of the silver pheasant came to him, the tilted 
 head suggested a young hawk. 
 
 "Are you in a rage with my guide because he helped 
 me find you?" asked Wayne, amused and baffled by 
 her attitude and her alert, blunt decision. He slipped 
 a silver coin to Juanito, who with hasty thanks ran 
 back in glee to show it to the less lucky lads at the 
 corral. 
 
 u He knows why I am in anger with him," she said 
 with a shrug of disdain at that gift of silver. " For 
 three days he fears to come near me alone, lest I get 
 my hands on him where no one can save him. My 
 uncle does not know why all at once good little Juanito 
 is so devoted; and it is of no use to tell women: 
 women are fools ! They would ask the padre to give 
 him a penance, and the padre would make him say 
 some Our Fathers * and * Ave Marias ! A quirt is a 
 better prayer for Juanito." 
 
 Her visitor looked after the flying figure of the boy. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 57 
 
 "You certainly have him filled with respect for your 
 sort of religion," he observed. 
 
 She nodded curtly. 
 
 "None of them dare to touch me alone," and there 
 was a grim-twisted smile on the red mouth as she 
 quietly motioned for him to be seated, while she con 
 tinued her work of coiling the wet clay around the 
 walls of the jar, "but three days ago that toad told 
 Manuel Morro that I was riding up the canon alone 
 to see old Diego Miguel," and she nodded towards 
 her aged companion. " Manuel had sworn as long 
 ago as Easter that he will kiss me, and some day marry 
 me pah! So he hid in the willows, and also Carlos 
 Galvez, who is to marry my cousin Maria. I have told 
 no one except old Diego Miguel but the two boys 
 got their kisses! Manuel has a bad hand, which he 
 says was burned by a reata when he was roping a 
 bronco ; it is tied up and no one sees it, and poor Carlos 
 has his pretty cheek cut from a fall when the foot of 
 his horse went into a sink-hole by the acquia and gave 
 him a bad fall on a stone. It was a very sharp, clean 
 stone and will leave only a thin scar," and she slipped 
 from under her blouse a slender dagger and held it 
 lightly on her open palm for him to see. 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 " Dear Carlos does not come near me so often now," 
 she continued. " Maria takes care of his cheek and 
 kisses it well. But he has told Maria that I have witch 
 
58 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 power, and that she must not danger her soul by sleep 
 ing in the same bed, so I have a whole bed to myself 
 now. Last night I found a cross in it made of palm, 
 and thrust full of cactus needles. That is because I am 
 heretic." 
 
 " Good God!" 
 
 Wayne stared at her in a sort of fascinated horror; 
 not so much at the facts related, as at her unchildlike 
 mental attitude towards the weird situation. She 
 accepted it as a usual and natural condition of affairs 
 in which she owed it to herself to be the victor at every 
 turn. 
 
 " But have you told no one, the older people, the 
 padre?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Maria would lie for dear Carlos and prove he was 
 with her when he fell, and Manuel is so handsome, and 
 has a good ranch, and all the girls are so crazy about 
 him that he would find it easy to prove anything. No, 
 words are no use, and they know my uncle will never 
 walk again, or call any of them to account. Dona 
 Carmelita is my one friend, and the family all say she 
 shall not stay under the roof when my uncle dies. He 
 gave her a little orange orchard and a house on it, 
 and they all are jealous of that. If he dies I will go 
 there and live with her." 
 
 He saw that she had reckoned on all the changes to 
 come, and was expecting to meet and conquer them as 
 she had the men who waited for kisses in the willows. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 59 
 
 " You have forgotten, Monica, that you have rights, 
 and that a girl must allow herself to be protected by 
 the laws. There are friends of Don Lee who " 
 
 "Law!" and she made a little clicking sound with 
 her tongue. " Don Glyn, do you not know there is no 
 law in San Juan on a dark night?" 
 
 "Why I" 
 
 "You belong back in a land where men who kill 
 each other are hanged; but who ever heard of any one 
 being hanged for any of the many dead men picked up 
 on the one little street of this pueblo? Law! There 
 are laws perhaps, but I have seen men roped and tied 
 to trees on election day and only let go after votes 
 were decided. They tore down the American flag 
 and pulled it to ribbons during the Spanish war, and 
 what did the law do? You know the law is only used 
 here to protect money or property of some sort. I 
 ought to know. My uncle has been at the head of 
 the politicians. Since I was a baby I have sat on the 
 knees of his friends while they smoked and gamed and 
 talked over the prices of men. I could tell you this 
 minute where you could hire a man to knife any one 
 who was a trouble to you, and how much it would 
 cost you ; or if you are interested in smuggling China 
 men into the States I can tell you the right man to 
 meet them at the Mexican border. Six of them went 
 past our home last week, half smothered under a load 
 of hay. The hay was sold in Santa Ana ; that man who 
 sold it is a relation of my cousins. Maria says it is 
 
60 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 witchcraft because I know all these things, and that no 
 man will ever be found bold enough to marry me; but 
 only my ears and my eyes have helped me, not the 
 witches." 
 
 "You have forgotten to take into account the brain 
 back of the ears and eyes/ he observed. 
 
 " I m glad you came today," she said, with a quick, 
 grateful smile. Her changes of expression were April- 
 like in their sun flashes under the clouds. " I have been 
 like the smoking mountain above the hot springs for 
 so long that I had to talk, or an earthquake might 
 have happened! I do talk to Diego Miguel, but he 
 only says, Pray to God, little darling/ and that makes 
 me want to scream. I am not a * little darling/ and 
 when I do get down on my knees to please Dona Car- 
 mel, I don t know what to pray for. Dona Carmel has 
 prayed all her life, and what great things have the 
 saints done for her?" 
 
 Wayne laughed, but shook his head over her rebel 
 lious explosions they were so unlike what one would 
 expect from her colorless face. Her reference to the 
 sleeping volcano within sight above the orange trees 
 struck him as being very apt. That mountain had slept 
 for a generation, and only a thin thread of smoke told 
 at times that the heart of it was still beating, though 
 smouldering unseen. 
 
 "What you need is women, real women, around 
 you. What would you think of a convent?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 6 1 
 
 "What would they think of me," she retorted, "if 
 I told them I carried a dagger rather than say prayers? 
 They would say just about what Maria and Dolores 
 say. No, I like men best; Diego Miguel is a better 
 comrade than the women. He teaches me to work 
 in the clay, and then sells the ollas; also he does not 
 say it is witchcraft when I try to make horses or dogs 
 or people out of clay. You have seen the wooden 
 statues of the saints in the mission? Well, some day 
 I will learn enough either to make statues too, or else 
 paint pictures with colors. I have my father s draw 
 ings, and have made copies of all of them. I have 
 made one picture already of Diego Miguel, but no one 
 has seen it. If he should fall sick, or die, they would 
 all say the picture brought the ill luck, so I am waiting." 
 
 Wayne whistled softly to himself. 
 
 u What patience ! But at least we have found one 
 thing you can pray for; it would really make you more 
 normal. You can pray to be an artist or a sculptor." 
 
 "Would to pray make an artist? I thought it was 
 work, and years of work." 
 
 " You are too old for me, Monica ! I don t know 
 how you have crowded so much into your fifteen years 
 or is it sixteen?" 
 
 " I Ve lived with old men," she said, simply. " The 
 young ones have no sense." 
 
 "And you are quite, quite sure you will never want 
 to marry the handsome Manuel who tries to steal 
 you?" 
 
62 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 She looked at him, unsmiling, and shrugged her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " I will shock you as I shocked the padre if I tell 
 you what I would like to do to that handsome Manuel 
 who sent me into the river today," she said; "still, I 
 will tell you. I can t talk to my uncle, but I could 
 always talk to you you are not too good it is the 
 bad in me I always tell you of. You know, the father 
 of Manuel was very rich. Manuel was sent to the 
 schools and colleges. He was to be the great man of 
 this valley, maybe governor some day, as his uncle 
 was. Thousands of dollars were used to teach him all 
 a fine man should know. Well, in the olive orchard 
 back of the corrals, I found a thing horrible a coyote 
 in a trap with chains wrapped around it and hung on 
 a tree limb. Under it a fire had been made and the 
 coyote had been burned alive there because it had 
 caught a chicken on the ranch when it was hungry. 
 The handsome Manuel had done this and all the 
 colleges and all the teachers and all his regular days 
 at the chapel services have not civilized him more than 
 that! Yet he would steal a girl if he could, just as 
 the coyote stole the chicken. And I I tell you true 
 I would like to be the god of the coyote long 
 enough to chain the handsome Manuel to that same 
 place and make the fire. 1 
 
 ; You awful young heathen! And you told the 
 padre that?" 
 
 "Yes, when he came to tell me how well it would 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 63 
 
 be if I would enter holy church, and marry Manuel." 
 
 Her visitor sighed and shook his head as he stared 
 at her. 
 
 "You are certainly leaving me no illusions of gentle 
 maidenhood to build on/ he said, at last. " I see now 
 why Don Lee calls you a boy and a rebel. And you 
 think you want to be an artist?" 
 
 She nodded silently. 
 
 " Is there anything else you want very much?" 
 
 "Yes, for my uncle to get well, and for we two to 
 go far away where my mother lived. The women here 
 know no more at seventy than at seventeen. I want 
 to know things, to work, to do things. But the doctor 
 has said he could not live long so we never 
 can go." 
 
 " Monica, would you go with me?" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Out into the world you want, to the schools you 
 
 want." 
 
 "How could that be?" Her eyes were wide and 
 alight, yet wistful. 
 
 " It is true you do not yet know what you want 
 to pray for. When I say I will open the door for 
 you, you almost look as if you are afraid to go out of 
 your cage." 
 
 "Yes, I think I am afraid," she said. "All at once 
 I felt so it was foolish. How could you open the 
 door?" 
 
 "There are two ways," he said, slowly. " Don Lee 
 
64 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 has talked of one of them. He wants me to take care 
 of you when he is gone." 
 
 She was no longer moulding the olla, but seated 
 beside the irrigation ditch let her hands trail idly in 
 the clear water. 
 
 "I would rather it was you," she said. " I thought 
 it would be the padre, and the troubles of the padre 
 would be many. He is against all the things I want 
 to do, and that would be bad. But you have no home, 
 no wife, no children. Where would you take me?" 
 
 He noted there was neither protest nor eagerness 
 a sort of still acceptance of the situation. All alone 
 she had no doubt imagined many worse things than 
 to go away into the unknown with this man who had 
 brought her dolls and candies in other days. 
 
 "No," he said, affirming her statement as to his 
 lack of household. " I have only some girl cousins and 
 some aunts. When you go with me we can arrange a 
 school perhaps until we see further through the open 
 door. Don Lee thought if you would marry me some 
 day it would be well, but since listening to your ideas 
 of marriage with your more attractive young lover 
 here, I can t hope much. But it is for you to say 
 you must decide." 
 
 "To marry you, really!" and her eyes widened 
 again. " Maria and all the girls say no man would 
 marry me but Manuel, and that he is bewitched. How 
 furious Maria would be ! " 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 65 
 
 Wayne rolled a cigarette and watched her. She 
 was refreshing in her utter elimination of himself. 
 
 " Yes, Maria would probably not like to be a false 
 prophetess, or to have the Cinderella marry as well 
 as the Beauty, for Maria has always been looked upon 
 as the beauty; but, putting Maria out of the question, 
 what would you say?" 
 
 "I never liked married folks as well as separate 
 people," she observed. "I would like to be your 
 wife, yet I would like to live like what uncle calls me, 
 a boy, or a comrade. I can t say it very well, maybe. 
 I want to work, to study, to be the things they say 
 I can t be and and you might not want that sort 
 of wife." 
 
 "Yet you d rather be my wife than be an adopted 
 daughter?" 
 
 "You see, I could not be either really" she said, 
 thoughtfully. " It would always be like playing * pre 
 tend as I used to play mother J when you brought me 
 a doll. I guess that s the best way I can say it. I 
 want just to be comrade; but I will marry you to go 
 away, and be free." 
 
 " All right, it s a bargain. I guess it will be a good 
 deal for me in the life game. We will join hands for 
 mutual protection against the Manuels and other hand 
 some creatures. Yet we will be free chums to follow 
 our own trails. You will develop into an artistic 
 genius, and I will feel puffed up with pride because I 
 could open the door for you ! " 
 
66 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 She smiled at his extravagant picture, it helped 
 bridge over a brief period of embarrassment. To say 
 that she wanted him to marry her, yet did not want 
 to be his wife not to be a wife to any one, ever 
 was a difficult thing to make clear. What she had 
 observed of mated couples during her brief life had not 
 tended to cultivate domestic instincts. 
 
 " Diego Miguel has been more to me than the white 
 people," she said, as she covered the olla with a wet 
 cloth before leaving the old man at his work alone. 
 "May I tell him?" 
 
 The old Indian had only caught the names in their 
 conversation, as he spoke no English, and had politely 
 effaced himself during their long and strange talk; 
 but now, when the girl gravely spoke to him in Span 
 ish, he stared in amazement at Wayne, scrambled to 
 his feet to make his best bow, then lifted his brown 
 hands over the girl in blessing, while the tears ran 
 down his furrowed cheeks. 
 
 She wiped them away, and interpreted his broken 
 sentences. 
 
 "He has been terribly afraid for me here, and 
 knows he is too old to help," she said, " and now he 
 asks me to say he will trust you, and will never be 
 afraid any more! " 
 
 "Oh, say, I was not expecting this sort of thing; 
 tell him not to worry like that." 
 
 " But he is weeping because he is happy can t you 
 see? He thinks you and I should weep with him. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 67 
 
 Also he wants to know when the wedding will be." 
 "That s a neglected fact. If we marry we will 
 certainly be obliged to have a wedding. You say when 
 or shall we ask Don Lee?" 
 
 " You can ask him, and I will get my mother s wed 
 ding dress. Uncle Lee will say whatever I say, and I 
 won t have the padre ! The alcalde can marry people, 
 and at once I will show Maria that some one will 
 marry me without witchcraft! " 
 
 "I am not so sure of that myself," said Wayne, 
 half laughing, half nettled that the thought of the 
 jealousy of Maria was doing quite a good deal towards 
 hastening his nuptials. "You have told me all the 
 unattractive things possible of yourself and wind up 
 by telling me I can arrange for the wedding pronto 
 if that is not witchcraft it is close kindred to it ! " 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 moons, and even the years, slipped into the 
 past so quickly in the busy life of McLane Sar 
 gent, that he woke up one day to discover the fact that 
 his excellent work had won him the approval of the 
 discriminating reader, but that his hold on the heart 
 of the people, the responsive, impulsive heart, had 
 never been complete until in an hour of fortune he came 
 across his notes of the little journey along the old 
 Mexican coast, and to help out an editorial friend 
 hammered it into form for a rush order. 
 
 Something had gone wrong, a novelette intended for 
 a first place had developed something hazy as to 
 authorship was a "borrowed" translation instead of 
 an original altogether there was trouble in the air, 
 and a substitute needed, and needed, as his friend the 
 editor stated, in a little less than no time. 
 
 And these were the conditions under which Sar 
 gent finally developed the story he had said he would 
 write some day of his woman under the mission arches. 
 
 " I don t know that I developed it at all," he stated 
 afterwards. "The thing sort of wrote itself." 
 
 Time was not given him in which to think; he only 
 recorded pictures unconsciously preserved, impressions 
 absorbed and long forgotten, tones and intonations 
 
 68 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 69 
 
 alluring in the soft Spanish. The woman of the lilies 
 became the incarnate spirit of tragedy all the more 
 so that she put forth no voluntary call for help of the 
 world. 
 
 And for the man, her master, the objective mind of 
 Sargent had almost forgotten what he had said he 
 would like to do to that unknown demagogue of the 
 mission valley, but his subjective mind remembered 
 every jot and tittle of it; and through the nights of 
 the years it had grown in the silence until the food it 
 gave his imagination was meat for men, so much so 
 that his friend fairly shouted with glee as the pages 
 slipped through his fingers, and he grasped the fact 
 that it was a sledge-hammer idea Sargent was " getting 
 across," though on the surface it appeared only the 
 sorrowful romance of one soft-voiced woman of great 
 eyes and red lips and a shrine in a little, unknown 
 valley. 
 
 The public agreed with the editor: it was a heart- 
 gripping love of which he had, almost unconsciously, 
 written, a vital thing so vital that men looked at him 
 curiously and wondered where he got all that insight 
 and that woman a saint-like devotee from whom 
 more fortunate sisters would draw aside their chaste 
 skirts ! She was truly of the half-light of life, not of 
 the deep darkness quite but never, never belong 
 ing to the world of sunshine ! 
 
 He had made her royal in love, enthroned her, the 
 woman of shadows; and in the dust below her the 
 
70 The Woman of f the Twilight 
 
 man who was her master followed the lure of gold, 
 of worldly power, of every visible token needed by a 
 strong animal to prove to itself that it is supreme, and 
 does dominate. 
 
 And in the end what? 
 
 The biggest thing his life had touched was a love 
 so great that it had remained ever beyond and above 
 his own comprehension. She was his as some captive 
 queen might have been the slave of some victorious 
 Goth, yet the Goth would become a god if seen through 
 Love s eyes, and the chains of the woman of the twi 
 light were forged thus of the only gold which en 
 dures and creates though the fires of suns darken, and 
 the planets live their lives and die, and every material 
 husk of the world s greatness crumbles and becomes 
 dust for the growth of new things. And above and 
 beyond all, the spirit of Love brooded untouched by 
 the world s standards, and in the form of this one 
 woman knelt ever before a symbol of the Spirit. 
 
 Despite his statement that the thing wrote itself 
 this was the result of an hour or two under the arches 
 of the old California mission it had brought him a 
 sort of fame surprising to himself and the letters! 
 
 He had never dreamed there were so many women, 
 and men, too, for whom the confessional was an actual 
 need, at least once in their lives if quite certain the 
 confessor would never guess identities. 
 
 And there were others ! 
 
 And out of it grew that tender, shadowed title for 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 71 
 
 the sister woman who loves not too well, who could? 
 but in a way not worldly wise. It had become an addi 
 tion to their vocabulary until his fiancee, Elinor Mit- 
 ford, added to every written note to him, "Any new 
 Woman of the Twilight on your trail ?" 
 
 He was not sure that he liked it any more than he 
 liked Oilman s query as to whether he was going to 
 blossom out a bally preacher and then strike for a 
 political job when his following was secure. Other 
 queries of the same sort came his way until fame did 
 not seem an unalloyed blessing; yet it would be diffi 
 cult to voice an actual discontent. 
 
 Independent, with good health, youth, a name al 
 ready made in books, a charming girl who was to marry 
 him some day if she did not change her mind and 
 all the world yet to range in, his outlook on life should 
 have all the rosy hues of earthly hope. 
 
 Yet he had done no work for weeks, and was an 
 aimless, restless wanderer when the powers that be, 
 aided by Nell, guided his steps towards the cottage of 
 her aunt, Mrs. J. Hamilton Dacy, at Dacy s harbor, 
 on the Massachusetts coast. 
 
 "You see, Lane," said that practical young lady, 
 " I am in for trouble ever since I quit playing with 
 Tony Allen; and now that a new engagement is an 
 nounced, you might as well brace up and help me face 
 the music. They are all terribly proud of you and your 
 success, and they make it clear that I shall have to do 
 some mental hustling to keep up to your standards; 
 
72 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 but just the same we will have to adjust ourselves to a 
 family meeting sooner or later, and I d rather have 
 
 it over." 
 
 "What do they the family council usually do 
 to your latest selections?" asked Sargent, lazily. 
 "Your Aunt Dacy seemed satisfied. I think, I really 
 think, Nell, that she made the engagement." 
 
 "She did not! Lane, you know she did not. I 
 always liked you tremendously, so, when Anthony Al 
 len quarreled with me about nothing (for I never 
 did care for Tom Guyon) and your unknown illus 
 trator found herself a husband well, I think it was 
 just Fate, Lane Sargent." 
 
 " I m willing to think it, Nellie," he agreed, stroking 
 her white, ringed hand, "but, for heaven s sake, don t 
 drag in the woman question. No woman had anything 
 to do with it but you." 
 
 "That s nice, and I guess you believe it, Lane," she 
 said, with a quaint grimace; "but / never drove you 
 to drink because I wouldn t write you. We both have 
 let each other s letters go unanswered for ages and 
 lost no sleep over it, and if I had married Tony 
 Allen" 
 
 "But you didn t, Nell. You quarreled with him 
 like the little tyrant you are, and then came and wept 
 on my shoulder." 
 
 " It s a nice shoulder, and you are such a comfort, 
 Lane," said his fiancee. "You know, I did fairly 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 73 
 
 wrestle with my conscience over Tony tried Theoso- 
 phy, New Thought, and Christian Science to recon 
 cile myself to the idea that nothing in this life really 
 did count for much, and I might as well give up earthly 
 hope and be an old maid; but it was all no use, habit 
 was too strong for me. And you know, Lane," she 
 added, after a season of pensive thought, "no matter 
 what any of the highbrows try to tell a girl, there is 
 no religion quite so comforting as the right man." 
 
 McLane Sargent shouted with laughter, and rolled 
 on the grass above the little strip of shore, then sat up 
 and flipped pebbles at the girl, and his gray eyes twin 
 kled at the thought of her wrestling with a conscience. 
 
 "If I m a comfort, you are a joy, Nell," he de 
 cided, "so I guess it won t trouble us much what the 
 relatives say. Of course, I haven t Allen s money " 
 
 " But you can make some of your own," she inter 
 rupted. "And, speaking of money, Lane, did your 
 unknown woman ever accept the money for those illus 
 trations of your * Woman of the Twilight ? " 
 
 The color flushed into Sargent s face, and he sent 
 the pebbles skimming over the water instead of towards 
 the girl. 
 
 "Can t you let that rest, Nell? I ve been having 
 hades with the publisher over it. They wanted to 
 make advertising material out of the fact that the 
 artist was an unknown, that she is a rare genius, that 
 she submitted the pictures because of some sentimen- 
 
74 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 tal or tragic interest for her in the story; oh, there was 
 no end to the use they could make of the theme if they 
 could only surround it with mystery." 
 
 "Well, why not? All they would have to do is to 
 tell the truth. None of you do know who the artist is. 
 Didn t you try to follow up the only address given 
 and land in a negro section of town ! Say, Lane, did 
 you ever tell the publishers that?" and she giggled, 
 "talk about a shadowy mystery, did you?" 
 
 "No, I didn t, and I would not have told you if I 
 had been sober." 
 
 Instead of resenting his bluntness, the girl laughed 
 and held up her finger accusingly. 
 
 "Didn t I tell you she drove you to a desperate 
 state? Honest, Lane, how does it seem to fall in love 
 with a girl you never saw a dream girl?" 
 
 " I think the visible ones are safer," and he reached 
 for her hand and missed it as she drew back; "but 
 please remember you are the only person who ever 
 mentioned that tender passion in connection with the 
 dream girl. / certainly never did." 
 
 "You did not have to," retorted Miss Mitford. " I 
 have known you too long to be wrong. You fairly 
 radiated affection for all the world you were even 
 affectionate to me ! The days when her letters came 
 were days of joy in regard to art, of course and 
 when the last letter came you went slump into the 
 depths." 
 
 " Nell, can t you let the post mortems alone ? " asked 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 75 
 
 the man, irritably. " I am not in the depths now; and 
 you know, little girl, I have never dug up your former 
 engagements, or questioned you of Allen." 
 
 "No need, you knew all about it always. Why, 
 you just couldn t stir up a mystery concerning any 
 one like Tony Allen. But a wonderful woman who 
 paints your dreams, and even talks to you on paper, 
 and hides behind a brush name or a Chinese symbol, 
 and then Lane, really and truly, didn t you end by 
 writing her love letters?" 
 
 " Really and truly, would I tell you if I had?" 
 "Well, you did something definite and desperate to 
 scare her into retreat, and you won t even tell me her 
 
 name." 
 
 " I tell you I never knew it. The illustrations were 
 signed by a symbol instead of a name. The letter with 
 them gave a name avowedly assumed, and an address 
 where no white people lived. That is all I know. She 
 is not in the field for other illustrative work, and all 
 one meets if he tries to search her out is a very blank 
 wall." 
 
 "I notice you don t tell me whether she kept or 
 returned the money you sent for the drawings." 
 
 Again Sargent s face flushed, and for a moment his 
 eyes looked hard. 
 
 " She kept it," he stated, in the brief, clipped man 
 ner Nell had learned marked the limit of his patience; 
 "she closed the episode with that very business-like 
 act. The whole thing is dead and buried except for 
 
76 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 the fact that my new book has a set of illustrations 
 remarkable for their truth, also their beauty. She 
 painted the things I only thought and did not even 
 fully describe. I feel like a cad to think I even spoke 
 of it to any one even you." 
 
 "You wouldn t if you had suspected how it would 
 end, 1 said Nell, consolingly, slipping her hand through 
 his arm, "but of course you couldn t know." 
 
 "No, I couldn t know," he agreed. "Shall we go 
 back to the house? I see Oilman s auto, and your aunt 
 on the terrace." 
 
 "Yes, she is looking this way. Aunt Martha is 
 happy because she thinks we are out here spooning. 
 You know, she still has her doubts as to whether I have 
 given our engagement the proper amount of prayer 
 ful consideration." 
 
 " Strange ! " and Sargent smiled down in her eyes 
 blue, quick, darting eyes, roguish and alert. She smiled 
 back at him in frank comradeship, and a certain pride 
 in his possession. It was nice to have the celebrity of 
 the season for one s very own ! 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 the terrace there were more than Gilman and 
 their hostess, Mrs. Dacy. George Hallet, the 
 law partner of Hamilton Dacy, was there, a fine, clean- 
 cut man, blonde, frank, and very much at home. He 
 was bantering Gilman about an inheritance suit they 
 were managing for that lucky individual. Gilman had 
 been left quite a little money by one distant relative, 
 and stood a good chance to win an old and very large 
 plantation in the South from the estate of a grand- 
 uncle of whom he had known next to nothing until 
 recently. 
 
 " Yet he says life is commonplace, and that romance 
 has died out of the land," said Nell, shaking hands with 
 Hallet. "/ call that flinging slander in the face of 
 Lane s new book. I am sure that is romance, poetry, 
 and tragedy, all three." 
 
 " Yes," retorted Gilman, " but I had to steer him to 
 find it, and then he nearly flunked. There was not 
 enough romance in the whole thing to make him re 
 member it until Gordon begged him to dig up some 
 thing, anything, quick ! and he did a spurt and dressed 
 up that old mission group to fill in space. Romance ! 
 go down there and slosh around in the adobe mud in 
 the wet season, or fight the sand fleas in the dry 
 
 77 
 
78 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 son, and see how much romance you find. He just 
 had a pipe dream and got it on paper while the smoke 
 still curled." 
 
 " Come over here and talk to me about it, Gillie," 
 said Miss Mitford, invitingly. "You know, Lane 
 has never told any of us just which mission he de 
 scribed in that story. I thought I knew all about it 
 till I heard there were other San Juans. Why this 
 mystery? " 
 
 " Level head Lane had," commented Gilman, seated 
 in the pergola between the two ladies, while the other 
 men went inside. "He got in a lot of local politics, 
 Indian slavery, and thefts of altar treasures all 
 true, you know, but likely to cause hurt feelings if 
 the actors were definitely located or named. His local 
 color and facts were all correct, it is only the attri 
 butes he gives his woman to which I object. He never 
 even spoke to a woman in the place. The woman and 
 the romance of that story are made up out of the 
 whole cloth." 
 
 "Well," said Sargent s fiancee, with a little sigh and 
 smile, "he won me with it." 
 
 "Elinor" and the tone of Mrs. Dacy was cor 
 rective "how can you pretend that so serious a mat 
 ter as marriage was the result of a mere written 
 romance?" 
 
 " But I m not married yet, Aunt Martha, I am 
 only engaged, and it is so new that I am still giving 
 myself reasons for it." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 79 
 
 " I should think the personality of McLane Sargent 
 is reason enough," stated Mrs. Dacy coldly. " I do 
 not at all approve of the flippant manner of ^ the 
 younger set towards such serious matters of ^-"^ 
 
 " Tell that to Lane," suggested Lane s fiancee. " It 
 is he who has written a thrilling story of a pious half- 
 worldling. I can t quite see, Aunt Martha, how your 
 conscience can really welcome him into the family; 
 think how frivolous he must have been some time to 
 even imagine the life of a woman of the twilight." 
 
 "Elinor! I should think in the presence of a gen 
 tleman you would " 
 
 "No, I wouldn t," laughed her niece. " If royal 
 ties from the book are to furnish our bread and butter, 
 why ignore the literary staff of life? Of course, if it 
 had been a failure we would all have slated the author 
 as a sacrilegious, improper person; but since it sells 
 like hot cakes well, our thrifty Yankee souls have 
 to compromise with conscience." 
 
 "The Sargents could marry anywhere," stated ^Mrs. 
 Dacy. " No one could use the word improper in re 
 gard to a Sargent." 
 
 "Then they have us beat in a walk," retorted her 
 irrepressible niece. "Gillie, though you have quit 
 work, and are a howling swell, I ll wager you know 
 quite a good deal of the live scandals vetoed by news 
 paper editors or owners. What is the latest about my 
 interesting cousin Glyn? Whose wife has he eloped 
 with last?" 
 
80 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Elinor! I hope you do not express yourself in 
 that way to Lane. It is not fair to our family. 
 Neither Lane nor his mother have ever met Glyndon, 
 and since his life is lived abroad of late, there is little 
 chance that he will ever return here. It seems to me 
 that Glyndon s life is strictly a family affair." 
 
 "Whose family?" asked her niece, as Mrs. Dacy 
 clicked her knitting needles irritably, and Gilrrian 
 laughed. 
 
 u Don t mind me, Mrs. Dacy," he begged. " Miss 
 Mitford knows I don t count as one of the vast public, 
 and of course all the movements of men as wealthy 
 as Mr. Wayne are sure to be chronicled and enlarged 
 upon." 
 
 "That is exactly what I say," agreed Mrs. Dacy. 
 " If Glyndon had not made a fortune in those Nevada 
 mines " 
 
 " You would still be slipping cash to him out of your 
 housekeeping funds," interrupted Nell. u I d like to 
 know what there is about a handsome rake to make 
 the most proper of grandmas and aunties open their 
 purse strings, to say nothing of fond mammas? Glyn 
 Wayne has been the special pet of some woman as far 
 back as I can remember, and the Nevada money of 
 course has made him impossible." 
 
 "I still think he could have been reformed by the 
 right woman," and Mrs. Dacy sighed and shook her 
 head sadly. " His marriage was a great mistake." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 81 
 
 "Yes, for his wife." 
 
 " Of course, it is not pleasant for her, either," 
 agreed the other lady, with an evident desire to be 
 fair, "but Glyndon should have married a home- 
 loving, domestic girl of our own set Southern girls 
 do not understand our New England men." 
 
 "Gracious! Aunt Martha, Glyn is not New Eng 
 land, he is the universal untrammelled male creature 
 spoiled by doting women because he is handsome 
 
 or was." 
 
 "Well," sighed Mrs. Dacy, resignedly, gathering 
 up her knitting and arising to join other guests, " every 
 man needs a home of his own, and his wife might 
 have been a great force for good if she accepted her 
 wifely duties in a Christian spirit, and realized that 
 woman has a great mission in life in the actual salva 
 tion of such men. Glyndon was a dear, pretty boy 
 and such a nice manner." 
 
 "There you have all the requisites, Gillie," said 
 Miss Mitford, scoffingly. " Cultivate beauty, a nice 
 manner, and no morals to speak of, and you can carry 
 our purse if you only fling us a smile occasionally! 
 Aunt Martha always makes me feel like a naughty 
 child with her prunes and prisms. To tell the truth, 
 our men have always been wild, and Aunt Martha 
 knows it. But the women of the family have always 
 clubbed together to hide it on fathers and husbands 
 and sons. I can t blame the men. Just think of gen- 
 
8 2 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 erations of Aunt Marthas making homes happy with 
 framed texts on the walls, and a quilting bee or prayer 
 meeting for diversion! * 
 
 Oilman grinned at the picture suggested, and jotted 
 down something in a red notebook. 
 
 "What about the girls?" he asked. "Can t you 
 speak for yourself, John?" 
 
 u Oh, when I just boil with temper over some of 
 the mundane trifles of life I realize it is the smoth 
 ered rage of several of my grandmothers who tried to 
 subdue their natural instincts by prayer. You can 
 laugh, but there is a lot of truth in it. I can just fancy 
 a nice domestic wife curbing those inherited instincts 
 of Glyn Wayne! How in the world could his wife 
 accept her wifely duties in a Christian spirit, when 
 he had left for Europe with another woman before 
 his wife had finished school? Aunt Martha is good 
 as gold herself, but her logic is peculiar when applied 
 to Glyn. What are you writing?" 
 
 Gilman finished his page and closed the little book. 
 
 "I am starting in a thoroughly scientific way to 
 make records for a book," he announced. 
 
 "About what, a novel?" 
 
 " Don t know yet, only making human notes until I 
 get enough real things, real ideas of real people, then 
 I will decide what I shall use them for. I see so much 
 hit-and-miss work going into print that I am going to 
 start on a solid basis." 
 
 " Good boy ! Now that you have all sorts of money, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 83 
 
 you can afford to do a real thing if it takes a life 
 time. I promise to utter only high and holy thoughts 
 when you are around. That notebook will strike me 
 dumb." 
 
 They both laughed at the unlikelihood of such a 
 calamity, and then instead of joining the others in the 
 house Nell surveyed his new car approvingly, and said 
 something about the good road along the shore, and a 
 little later they were gliding under the shadow of the 
 old elms northward where the moorland reached to 
 the cliff above the water and an occasional tree broke 
 the monotony of the wide pastures, or the thickets of 
 sumac or clambering vines. The storms of winters 
 gave little encouragement to growth of timber. 
 
 "I hope you come early and often, Gillie," stated 
 the girl with a sigh, as they whirled along the lane 
 of blossoming things. "Your car is a dream. I 
 scarcely regret even Tony s boat when in this. And 
 if you are turning literary I will need more than ever 
 to cultivate you." 
 
 Worth working for," decided Gilman, grimly. 
 
 "Don t be sarcastic, I m really, truly in earnest. 
 I almost lie awake nights trying to fit myself into the 
 new scheme of things. Aunt Martha is disgusted with 
 me, but you know what an ocean of difference there is 
 between Tony and Lane." 
 
 "Quite a bit," agreed Gilman. 
 
 " Yes, poor Tony always went asleep over any kind 
 of a book only reads the racing news so no girl 
 
84 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 had to tire herself out trying to keep up to his mental 
 stunts. But I m likely to need help to keep in line 
 with Lane, and you must be the help, Gillie, so please 
 get literary quick as you can, and then let me bask in 
 the light of your countenance." 
 
 "What s the matter with Lane s countenance?" 
 asked Gilman. 
 
 "Not a thing," declared Lane s fiancee, loyally, "he 
 is the best ever, but he thinks I know a lot more than 
 I do, and I guess I will have to take a correspondence 
 course in wifely training before I am fit for the job. 
 You see, I didn t have to study to keep up to Tony, 
 I could have spent money as fast as he could and 
 that s all he has to do." 
 
 Gilman chuckled at the idea of the correspondence 
 course, and announced his willingness to be the co 
 respondent, at which Miss Mitford dared him to say 
 it before Aunt Martha, and they chaffed each other 
 as they spun along the shore where the moorland 
 reached back in sunny silence to Squaw River, and the 
 surf beat high against the rocky ribs of the coast. 
 
 " I hate this especial curve of the shore," she said, 
 pointing to the white foam curling over brown boul 
 ders; "that entire bay is full of treachery. You know, 
 Tony does know a boat, yet he was all but battered to 
 death out there last year when Monica was here got 
 caught in a hopeless gulf, and a squall did the rest. 
 The lightship men saved him, but the boat was only 
 fit for kindling by the time it reached shore. I was 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 85 
 
 scared silly, for we could see it all from yonder point. 
 After that, Monica would not rest until she had a boat 
 of her own moored here in case of accident; but I don t 
 see what she could do with a boat in that wrathy water 
 when Tony failed. There is her bungalow; let s 
 go up." 
 
 " But I understood you to say she is in town, or was 
 in the South?" 
 
 "Oh, I never know. She won t write letters, ncr 
 do any of the other civil conventional things, but she 
 is a dear! I don t blame her that she won t join the 
 family parties at Aunt Martha s ; in fact, I think it is 
 nice of her to even have a summer studio within hailing 
 distance; it shows that she bears the family no grudge 
 for Glyn s actions, and that is as much as one could 
 expect more." 
 
 A seldom used road led up from the highway to a 
 little bungalow of concrete in the midst of some 
 gnarled old trees. There was a decided foreign note 
 in the Moorish chimney, tiled roof, and the built-in 
 concrete seats, wide and long, at each end of the 
 veranda. 
 
 An old man was clipping the grass along the edge 
 of the tile walk in the leisurely manner of one who 
 has the entire summer to accomplish a task, and he 
 shook his head at Miss Mitford s query as to the 
 owner of the house, and held his hand to his ear in 
 evidence of deafness. 
 
 " No, there ain t no folks here yet, don t know any 
 
86 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 mor n that; never do know till they drive up. Am my 
 own boss, I am. Nothen to do but just keep the leaves 
 and the litter cleared up, dassent touch a tree or vine. 
 Miss Wayne, she likes them wild like they are 
 curious notions. I could make a right smart place of 
 this if she d let me cut out them trees and make a 
 flower patch for her. If it wan t for these old stunted 
 trees you could see this place miles out at sea. It 
 would show up mighty fine but she s the captain. 
 The place looks a hundred years old a ready, with all 
 this jungle around it no fault of mine. I d have 
 it ship shape in no time, but she won t hear to it." 
 
 He further informed them that he lived in a little 
 cabin in a cove to the south, and that he was not too 
 old to take a run out with the fishermen occasionally, 
 though for the most part he stayed in port, and tinkered 
 around for the neighbors, when he had a job. 
 
 "And Mrs. Wayne has sent no word about com 
 ing?" shouted the girl in his ear; but he shook his 
 head. 
 
 "Never does. That wench of hers did come out 
 a day ahead last year, an that s all the notice 7 got! 
 Maybe cut this grass all summer and not a foot to walk 
 on it. It would pay her better to rent it lots of city 
 folks would give her a good price but she s the 
 captain." 
 
 The two visitors sat under the trees, and looked 
 out over the restless waves, landlocked in part by a 
 high cliff far to the south, and the long low reef, like 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 87 
 
 a dark finger reaching out through the foam on the 
 north. The tide was coming in, and Elinor Mitford 
 confessed it made her homesick for the boat parties 
 Nan and Tony Allen gave in other summers. Of 
 course, she could not expect their boat in these waters 
 this year. 
 
 "Why not?" demanded Gilman. The fact that we 
 all love you, and Sargent won you, has not kept me 
 away. Who is Allen, that he should arise in protest? 
 The fact is, Nanny intimated to me that they meant 
 to sail up the coast to Boothbay Harbor." 
 
 "To Boothbay! We were all there together last 
 year; it was ideal. You are making me more home 
 sick every minute." 
 
 " Better have a bad case and get it over with," sug 
 gested Gilman. "There are two pretty girls to be 
 with them sea sirens." 
 
 "Nanny hasn t sent me a single letter since Tony 
 quarreled with me," complained the girl, " and I sup 
 pose when they learn I m engaged to Lane she never 
 will bring her party our way." 
 
 "She might if she thought it would not jar you." 
 
 "Well, it wouldn t. I d fall on their necks with 
 joy. They are always such a jolly lot, and, you know, 
 Gillie, it is not always easy to find a jolly lot in Aunt 
 Martha s house, or to keep them there when you do 
 get them. I Ve only been engaged to Lane a week 
 and already she is doing her best to get us both in line 
 with her standards of matrimony fairly preaches at 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 us! I don t wonder Lane makes an excuse to get back 
 to town with George Hallet tomorrow." 
 
 "In that case I d better hie homewards with his 
 bride-elect lest Aunt Martha hare dire suspicions of 
 elopement," suggested Gilman. "I mean to come 
 often, so I want to keep in that lady s good graces. 
 Did Sargent see this?" he asked, with a sweep of the 
 hand taking in the woods, the dwelling, and the rest 
 less sea, "it s a dandy picture." 
 
 "No, we have gone the other roads or else out in 
 the motor boat This is his first visit to Uncle Dacy s 
 cottage. I knew him ages ago through his sister at 
 school, but my various uncles and cousins and aunts 
 are practically strangers to him. It s a horrid bore 
 having them look him over and appraise him." 
 
 "And compare him with the might-have-beens," sug 
 gested Oilman. 
 
 "Exactly; but worse than that, to have him weigh 
 and measure them without them ever suspecting what 
 the result might tot up ! You know, our family, with 
 all their self-esteem and local importance, never really 
 did anything in the world but make money. 9 
 
 " Fascinating occupation." 
 
 "Of course, but just die same I think it is one of 
 die reasons Aunt Martha welcomed a Sargent so 
 quickly into die family, and it is one of the reasons she 
 is just a litde hurt that Glyn s wife threw Glyn aside 
 like an old shoe or rather like a new, cheap shoe that 
 didn t fit You know, Monica Sturtevante has a fam- 
 
The Worn** of the Twilight : ; 
 
 ily tree fairly HangKng with crowns and coronets and 
 swords of great Bglucis. Poor as poveilj, you know, 
 after the war, and prouder of the poverty than of the 
 family tree, I guess. Altogether, it harts Aunt Mar 
 tha that a Wayne could be dropped like that, and in 
 a condescending way." 
 
 "Bat I understood it was the other way around 
 the husband who hit the trail" 
 
 "So it was; married Monica and left her m school 
 down Sooth, and a year later left America with another 
 woman. We, the family, didn t even know he had a 
 wife tin later. He made a stack of money about that 
 time, and I guess Aunt Martha was startled by several 
 revelations (Uncle Dacy does keep a good many from 
 
 was a young and very indifferent wife! It is the indif 
 ference Aunt Martha can t understand. If she would 
 only weep on our shoulders or pity herself or pose as 
 a forsaken bride, she could have a fittk court of ad 
 mirers and sympathizers, but she only smiles, and 
 works, and ignores Glyn." 
 
 "Any question of divorce?" 
 
 "She ignores the subject, so Aunt Martha stiH has 
 hopes of a reconciliation." 
 
 "Does he want that?" 
 
 "Not that I ve heard of; it s three years now since 
 he has been in America. We never hear of him 
 
 He 
 is on the down trail." 
 
90 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Ye yes, I heard of him in Italy," commented Gil- 
 man, and the eager questions of the girl were cut short 
 by the car gliding over the green of the lawn and 
 bringing them to the steps where Sargent and the others 
 were chatting and waiting for the wanderers. Lunch 
 was waiting, also the mail, and Elinor fairly pounced 
 on an envelope addressed to Mrs. Dacy. 
 
 "From Nanny! Thank goodness, she does write 
 to some of us; tell me quick, Aunt Martha." 
 
 " There is not much to tell," said Mrs. Dacy, with a 
 slight lifting of her brows, meant to quell the eager 
 ness of her niece. "She has a boat party as usual. 
 Joe Dacy and your Uncle Hamilton are to join them 
 at New Haven and make the trip along the coast. Of 
 course, it means we must invite them here I must 
 say, Hamilton seems even more absent-minded than 
 usual." 
 
 " But you know Nanny has come every blessed sum 
 mer for ages," protested Nell, while Oilman chuckled, 
 and the other two men smiled across the table at each 
 other. Hallet knew so well the absent-mindedness of 
 his partner, and Sargent knew so well that it would 
 never occur to Nell not to invite any number of last 
 summer s sweethearts if they came within hailing dis 
 tance that frankness of hers was her chief charm to 
 him. 
 
 "Also," continued Miss Mitford, "I desire to be 
 informed as to the sea sirens Nan and Tony have 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 91 
 
 aboard; you know, both Uncle Dacy and Joe are sus 
 ceptible infants." 
 
 "You can read the letter," said Mrs. Dacy; "in 
 fact, the letters. Mrs. Smythe-Orville is with them, 
 and Lulu, her daughter. They each add a line." 
 
 " You mean her step-daughter. I fancy Fannie Smith 
 is not too eager to have a sixteen-year-old daughter 
 credited to her." 
 
 "Elinor!" 
 
 " Now, Aunt Martha, George at least knows that 
 Frances Smythe-Orville was simply Mrs. Orvel Smith 
 until she went abroad. It s a big question mark with 
 me how some people can get away with a bluff like 
 that. Of course, any name she could pick would be 
 an improvement on her original one of Dobbs and 
 that s your sea siren?" she said, addressing Gilman. 
 
 " I was only quoting Nanny Allen," he explained. 
 " I have not the felicity of knowing the lady." 
 
 "Well," commented Nell, as she spread out the 
 pages and glanced at the three different contributions 
 to the letter, " I m glad to see Lulu has acquired none 
 of that particular sort of veneer. The big, round 
 schoolgirl writing of Lulu Smith is a rest to the eyes, 
 and a joy to the heart. She is a dear child." 
 
 " If you read the letter of Mrs. Smythe-Orville you 
 will see that Lulu is scarcely a child. There is a man 
 in the question, a count of something what is the 
 name, Elinor?" 
 
92 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Elinor glanced over a sheet covered with small, 
 angular penmanship. 
 
 " Count of Castlemar," she announced. " I can just 
 fancy the joy of Fannie in being able to write that as 
 a sort of advance herald of her success abroad!" 
 
 She did not note that Hallet turned towards her 
 quickly as she read the name, and that his tone was 
 carefully careless as he asked the location of Castlemar. 
 
 "Oh, Fannie never gives details the very ancient 
 estate of Castlemar on the Mediterranean/ she 
 quoted. " It never would occur to Fannie that the 
 Mediterranean is quite a little pool. She would only 
 see the pebble where she stood." 
 
 "Sixteen seems an absurd age for marriage," re 
 marked Sargent. " It almost scares us even at our 
 advanced age, doesn t it?" and he regarded the girl 
 smilingly. 
 
 " It certainly does. I like nice, long engagements," 
 she agreed. " One disastrous child marriage in our 
 family is quite enough. I shall take it on myself to 
 tell Fannie Smith of Monica Wayne." 
 
 " I fail to see the necessity," said Mrs. Dacy. 
 " Monica met Lulu and her father here the first sum 
 mer she came north, and was very fond of the child. 
 If she wanted to confide her ah unfortunate mari 
 tal affairs she has had every opportunity; and, can 
 didly, I think you should remember, Elinor, that she 
 has never actually confided in us." 
 
 Nell set down her tea-cup, regarded her aunt, and 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 93 
 
 then with her finger tips pressed on the dome of thought 
 gave an exaggerated imitation of deep mental con 
 centration. 
 
 "I guess you go up head, Aunt Martha," she con 
 ceded. " Monica never has had a confiding nature. 
 Her lawyers," and she glanced at Hallet, "may know 
 how and why she married Cousin Glyn, and why they 
 took different trails; if so, we are an eager audience." 
 
 "I was not her lawyer then," said Hallet, gravely. 
 " I only know that Glyndon Wayne was in Mexico 
 for a while, and that her father died in Mexico. The 
 marriage, I believe, really occurred in California, and 
 from there she went direct to a school in Georgia." 
 
 " And we know little of the rest," added Miss Mit- 
 ford. " I notice if any of us ever try to show special 
 interest in the ante-Georgia days, Monica quietly folds 
 her tent and slips away. We are her dear cousins, but 
 we must not intrude." 
 
 "As a cousin-to-be, I am interested in your elusive 
 lady," remarked Sargent. " Is her studio life the usual 
 becoming pose for the detached woman, or is it the 
 real thing?" 
 
 " If orders backed by substantial dollars are any in 
 dication, I should say it is the real thing," stated Hal- 
 let; "for a girl with less than three years actual art 
 work it is remarkable." 
 
 " Oh, well, she is art mad, just lives and works and 
 dreams art," said Nell. " She uses every dollar she 
 gets to pay for extra lessons put in all last winter in 
 
94 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Spain working like a slave. No wonder she is getting 
 orders!" 
 
 " I saw a note in last month s Studio to the effect 
 that her designs were accepted for the stained glass 
 windows of a new chapel in Manhattan," remarked 
 Gilman; "also the entire color scheme for the interior 
 decoration was given to her. That is going some for 
 a young woman." 
 
 " I never can reconcile myself to the thought of 
 Glyndon s wife working for money," declared Mrs. 
 Dacy; "it is too absurd. One redeeming thing is that 
 her work is, in a way, ecclesiastical." 
 
 ;< Yes, it helps take the curse off," agreed her niece; 
 "but I guess that came to her through choosing the 
 right father." 
 
 "Elinor!" 
 
 "Well, didn t she have all his drawings of those 
 magnificent old Spanish-Mexican churches to start 
 with? I should call that an unusual foundation for 
 art study. You must see that collection some day, 
 Lane all sorts of Mexican and Indian things. She 
 told me she had made duplicates in colors of every one 
 of his drawings before she was fifteen; that should be 
 equal to several seasons in an art school. Glyn will 
 wake up some morning to learn he has a celebrity for 
 a wife and want her back again. I can fairly hear the 
 smashing time our joyous family will have then." 
 
 The men laughed, and Mrs. Dacy restrained her 
 self to looking her disapproval. George Hallet, of 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 course, was as one of the family, and Gilman she did 
 not consider, except as a client of the office, and a well- 
 paying one; but Sargent was quite a different matter, 
 and it surely should be worth Elinor s while to have 
 him think the best of her family instead of thus dwell 
 ing on the most humiliating scandal the Waynes had 
 known in a generation. 
 
 Down deep in her heart she was hoping that the 
 bungalow in the woods by the shore would remain 
 closed for the summer, and that Mrs. Smythe-Orville, 
 or the Sargent family, would not learn the true inward 
 ness of the situation. She could fancy the air and the 
 lifted brows of Mrs. Smythe-Orville if Elinor should 
 blurt out the ugly fact of a Sturtevante ignoring a 
 Wayne as a thing too insignificant to even discuss! 
 And Monica s youth would of course put Glyndon en 
 tirely in the wrong in most minds which, to Mrs. 
 Dacy, did not appear quite fair. Monica s ungirlish 
 reserve led Mrs. Dacy at times to doubt whether 
 Glyndon had not had his own troubles if all was but 
 known. 
 
 When Hamilton Dacy, as Glyndon Wayne s law 
 yer, had gone down to some school in Georgia and 
 brought back a remarkably cool, indifferent, and sar 
 castic bride of a year, the coolness and indifference 
 seemed to Mrs. Dacy almost indecent, and she had 
 never been able to change her first impression. Of 
 course, the family influence had prevented a news 
 paper scandal, but that was as far as their influence 
 
96 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 could reach. It could not even locate Glyndon half of 
 the time, and it could not change a particle the mental 
 attitude of Monica Wayne. Work was all she cared 
 for work and freedom. She was quite willing to be 
 near her husband s family occasionally if they kept a 
 respectful distance and did not presume to direct or 
 advise. In her first interview with Mrs. Dacy she had 
 stated that " families could be awful things," and that 
 she did not mean to be a part of one. She had a pas 
 sion for individual freedom which to Mrs. Dacy was 
 not quite womanly a thoroughly feminine creature 
 was always naturally dependent. 
 
 Thus the hostess of Dacy s Harbor felt that if the 
 Allen boat did anchor in their little bay she would 
 have complexities enough for one woman to face for 
 the summer, and that if Monica should elect to come 
 to the north coast at the same time, her cup of trials 
 would reach the brimming point. Keeping the scandal 
 out of the papers would prove a useless expense if 
 Fannie Smythe-Orville got to know the details! 
 
 She excused herself directly lunch was over, and 
 retired to her room to frame a night dispatch to her 
 husband; not that it would do any real good, but it 
 would show him how inconsiderate he had been to 
 bring Tony Allen as a guest at this particular time, 
 and incidentally she would sleep better. Elinor had 
 expressed so many tactless thoughts during the day that 
 the poor lady felt the need of some one to express 
 herself to it is one of the real comforts of having a 
 husband. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 weeks later she scarcely felt more relieved 
 or at ease concerning the yachting group and its 
 effect on her own household. In fact, as she came 
 from a drive to the village, she was met by a slight, 
 pale young girl, wearing a sewing apron, who assisted 
 the butler in taking parcels from the carriage, and 
 added the last straw to the situation when she an 
 nounced with a little smile, timid, yet joyous 
 
 " Mrs. Wayne is home again. She called just after 
 you drove away. n 
 
 "Called!" repeated Mrs. Dacy; u is she making 
 calls on her way from the depot? I did not pass her." 
 
 "Oh, she s been home two days. They came 
 Thursday." 
 
 " Well, upon my word ! " Mrs. Dacy was plainly 
 chagrined, and halted on the steps to turn to the girl 
 following her with the smaller parcels. "I should 
 think your grandfather might have brought us word; 
 he knows Mrs. Wayne has no messenger but old Rosa, 
 who is afraid to come through the pasture." 
 
 " I know," said the girl, looking at her mistress help 
 lessly for an instant, and then lowering her gaze, " but 
 he I don t know, Mrs. Dacy but " 
 
 97 
 
98 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "You don t mean to tell me, Hetty Craig, that he 
 is drinking again." 
 
 The girl nodded her head. 
 
 "I I don t think he meant to, Mrs. Dacy. Some 
 of the fishermen got him to go out in a boat and 
 they had liquor when they came back. And they 
 had no right to ! " she added, with sudden passion. 
 "They know, they all know, he can t stand it as they 
 do, and he can t stop as they do I " 
 
 " I am surprised, Hetty, to hear you take that 
 tone," said Mrs. Dacy. "I should think you would 
 be the last to excuse such habits after all we had done 
 to give him employment. Of course he can stop it if 
 he wants to." 
 
 The girl said no more, but passed up the stairs with 
 an anxious, troubled face, and Mrs. Dacy stood for 
 a few moments looking after the carriage on its way 
 to the stables, hesitating whether to recall it and drive 
 to the bungalow it would seem a civil thing to do. 
 Yet Monica had not chosen to notify the family of 
 her coming, and, after all 
 
 She concluded by untying her bonnet strings and 
 ringing for a maid, who told her Mrs. Wayne had 
 walked over from the bungalow, and said she would go 
 down to the shore on the chance of meeting Miss 
 Elinor. 
 
 While they spoke of it, and the maid relieved her 
 of bonnet and gloves, there was the clatter of horse 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 99 
 
 and wheels, and Mrs. Dacy with a sigh of relief went 
 herself to the hall door. 
 
 " I never was so glad to see you, George," she said, 
 graciously. u To think that you had to drive from the 
 station in that hired trap when our own carriage had 
 only just returned from the village! Come right in. 
 If you had given me any hope of your coming I should 
 have gone to the station, but, you know, you said it was 
 next to impossible to get away." 
 
 " I found I needed to make it possible," said Hal- 
 let, " and here I am. The place looked sort of lone 
 some as I drove up where are the folks?" 
 
 "I haven t an idea," stated Mrs. Dacy, desperately. 
 "I declare I scarcely see a member of this family 
 from breakfast until sundown since Tony Allen 
 brought his new yacht into our harbor. They fish or 
 sail all day and every day, and Hamilton Dacy is 
 quite as childish about it as Joe and Lulu." 
 
 Hallet smiled in his genial, quieting way, but with 
 full realization of Mrs. Dacy s perplexities under the 
 circumstances. 
 
 " So Tony is still in the harbor? Any sign of sailing 
 north?" 
 
 "Not the slightest; he seems perfectly satisfied with 
 second place, and is behaving beautifully, which is 
 more than I can say for Elinor. I am at my wits end, 
 and have telegraphed for Lane; he will get here this 
 evening." 
 
ioo The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "Any new people in their party?" asked Hallet, 
 with the evident desire to get her mind off the flirta 
 tions of Elinor. 
 
 "No. Waddell Gilman is here still; and George, 
 he is talking plays now instead of the great American 
 novel for which he was gathering notes. He seems to 
 me peculiar enough already without starting to write 
 things for the theaters. I never could quite compre 
 hend how a Sargent, especially McLane Sargent, could 
 find pleasure in a personality so well, eccentric." 
 
 " Oh, Gilman is a good chap, Mrs. Dacy." 
 
 "Of course, I suppose he is, in fact every one likes 
 him; but I give you my word, there is not a servant 
 on the place or a fisherman on the shore he does not 
 get notes from. I know Tony and Elinor make up 
 all sorts of senseless puns to get them into Gilman s 
 notebooks." 
 
 "When we win that inheritance suit for him he 
 will forget the drama and raise prize pigs and pump 
 kins on that old plantation. How are the Smythe- 
 Orvilles?" 
 
 "Fannie is raving over Italy, but I think they spent 
 every dollar and had to come back. She is wild to get 
 that Castlemar man in the family, and will take Lulu 
 back there next winter. She says the man has money, 
 but I think it is difficult to tell about people over there." 
 
 The girl Hettie came from the servants entrance 
 and passed the end of the veranda, halting undecidedly 
 as she noted that Mrs. Dacy was not alone. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 101 
 
 "Well, Hettie, what is it?" 
 
 "Only, will you please excuse me, Mrs. Dacy, long 
 enough to go down to the cove? I finished the 
 sewing. * 
 
 " Yes, you can go, but don t stay long. It is Mary s 
 day out and the young ladies may need you when they 
 
 come." 
 
 " Good evening, Hettie," said Hallet, cheerily. " I 
 hope all goes well at the cove." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Hallet," said the girl, with a wan 
 smile, and Hallet looked after her in silence for a bit, 
 and then turned to Mrs. Dacy. 
 
 " I notice she does not commit herself to a state 
 ment," he remarked. " How is that ancient mariner of 
 ours?" 
 
 " Almost worthless, and the girl wastes so much time 
 looking after him, and waiting on him, that she is 
 growing about as useless as he. I have continued to 
 employ her because reliable help is difficult to secure 
 in these shore places, but " 
 
 Her unfinished sentence and weary expression 
 denoted that her patience had almost reached the limit. 
 
 "Poor little girl!" said Hallet, kindly, "and poor 
 little Lulu destined for the marriage market! Why 
 don t you take Nell s advice and warn them by the story 
 of Monica Wayne s schoolgirl marriage?" 
 
 " George ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dacy, " I really did hope 
 for some help from you, yet you advise that? No, 
 indeed, I ve worked too hard to keep that scandal 
 
IO2 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 hidden. It would be so much easier if Monica had 
 not taken up that crazy art fad the wife of Glyndon 
 Wayne working for money! I have no patience with 
 her." 
 
 "Well," said Hallet, slowly, knowing the annoyance 
 he was likely to cause this woman whose house had 
 been as a second home to him, " if she heeds me she 
 will not be his wife much longer." 
 
 "George!" 
 
 "He wants a divorce." 
 
 " He wants a divorce?" Her tone was incredulous 
 and her face was one of dismay. To have this ques 
 tion come up at this special time was a new calamity 
 beyond words. 
 
 Hallet nodded and smiled at the irony of it. 
 
 "Yes, concludes he is not happy as the gods meant 
 him to be. He wants to get married again, wants to 
 come back to America, wants his wife to apply for the 
 divorce, and wants us to manage the legal details. Will 
 you help us?" 
 
 Mrs. Dacy fairly gasped as she saw her one bulwark 
 of strength slipping away from her. 
 
 " I am astonished, George Hallet, that you should 
 ask such a question. I certainly will not help. I have 
 always hoped to see them reunited." 
 
 " But since that is one of the most improbable 
 things?" 
 
 "Why should it be improbable?" demanded Mrs. 
 Dacy. "Other women have always been infatuated 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 103 
 
 with Glyndon he is a charming man! Monica goes 
 wherever she pleases in this craze of hers for art 
 study; what more natural than that some day she 
 should reach some European point where he chanced 
 to be and adjust their little difficulties?" 
 
 Hallet eyed her smilingly, and yet hopelessly. Never 
 in the world would Mrs. Dacy see the question except 
 as she meant to see it. 
 
 " Little difficulties! Have you forgotten that one 
 of the difficulties is a substantial and charming woman 
 of whom society was once fond? Her husband died 
 last year; she is now legally free." 
 
 "I am not at all concerned with her affairs; she has 
 openly placed herself beyond recognition," returned 
 Mrs. Dacy, impatiently, "but I have several times 
 thought of writing concerning Monica s erratic wan 
 derings. Glyndon could so easily have chanced to meet 
 her in Spain last winter only she seldom tells any of 
 us where she goes until after her return and she 
 never writes letters." 
 
 "I don t think it occurs to her," said Hallet, "she 
 lives so much within her own work and plans; and you 
 know none of us are really deeply interested in art. 
 I guess we miss a good deal," he added, half sadly. 
 
 " I can t agree with you. My observation shows me 
 that an artist in the family almost always turns it topsy 
 turvey, especially a woman artist. Please touch that 
 bell for me we need tea if we are going to take dif 
 ferent sides of this question. As v to Glyndon," she 
 
104 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 resumed, " I certainly would have written to him when 
 Monica was abroad, but I did not know his address. I 
 only know he is living in Europe somewhere under an 
 assumed name, and that s all I do know. Hamilton 
 Dacy keeps all his knowledge of Glyndon under lock 
 and key." 
 
 " Good trait in a lawyer," commented Hallet, but 
 Mrs. Dacy gave him a disdainful glance as she handed 
 him his cup of tea. 
 
 " Lawyer !" she repeated. "You know perfectly 
 well, George, that if he had not inherited his interest 
 in that legal concern he never would have owned it. 
 You do all the real work of the firm." 
 
 "Someone has to do it," he said, sipping his tea 
 and watching Mrs. Dacy and thinking that his partner 
 had evidently failed in his opportunities to assist in the 
 social affairs of the summer. Then he added, quite 
 irrelevantly, "How does she look? Well, I hope." 
 
 "Who, Monica? I haven t even seen her. She 
 has the most peculiar way of slipping in quietly or 
 saying good-night, and you hear of her next in Mex 
 ico ! I presume she joined the others at the shore, or 
 took out a boat herself if they were gone. I can t 
 persuade her that it is dangerous to go out alone as 
 she does ; anything might happen." 
 
 " But nothing does," remarked Hallet, reassuringly, 
 as he rose and walked to the end of the veranda and 
 stood looking down towards the shore. "I think, if 
 you don t mind, I 11 go down and play shepherd for 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 your scattered flock; evidently Dacy is not an active 
 guardian." 
 
 "One would fancy him the youngest of the group 
 when he catches a bigger fish than Joe. Do start them 
 home; they would loiter until moonrise if left alone." 
 
 But before he had reached the pergola he heard 
 voices raised in song and the twanging of a banjo. A 
 minute later he could see the lanky, youthful figure 
 of Joe Dacy at the head of the group trying to do a 
 sort of mad Mullah terpsichorean feat and at the same 
 time furnish the music. Evidently Joe had caught the 
 prize fish, while Hallet s mature partner a little, fat, 
 comfortable man carried fish and poles, and beamed 
 on the young folks who were emerging from the long, 
 vine-covered pergola like a flock of sea birds in white 
 garb. 
 
 There was a gay waving of hands and hats as Hallet 
 came in sight, and a general greeting, jovial or 
 restrained, according to previous acquaintance. A 
 young girl who was trying to untangle her line came 
 running to him eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, I m so sorry you did not get here in time to 
 go out with us, Mr. Hallet!" she exclaimed in her 
 high girlish treble. "Such a lovely day! I tried to 
 fish over the side did not make a single catch." 
 
 "Oh, I don t know," said Tony Allen, sauntering 
 up and noting that her whirling line had caught in Joe 
 Dacy s sleeve. "I should call it a weighty one on 
 a string!" 
 
106 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Others," was the only word uttered by Joe as he 
 turned his eyes, though not his head, towards Tony, 
 and past him to Miss Mitford. There was a little 
 gasp at his boldness, and then all laughed. 
 
 "The others are coming," said Nell, hastily. " Gillie 
 is still here, the to-be immortal J. Waddell G., and 
 Fannie Smith, whom you were to meet last year and 
 didn t." 
 
 " Don t mention Smith, please," said Lulu in mock 
 appeal. " Since we have been sharing sunshades with 
 counts and no accounts on the other side, we pre 
 fer to forget the discordant memory of Smith. Smythe- 
 Orville is so much more euphonious." 
 
 Mr. Dacy shook his finger at her and tried to look 
 severe, but failed. She snuggled up to him and whis 
 pered some nonsense as Gilman appeared in attend 
 ance on a petite little woman, whose extremely blonde 
 hair looked almost infantile, and whose flimsy draperies 
 were as sharp a contrast to the simple yachting cos 
 tumes as was the glaring color of her grass-green 
 hosiery and sunshade, as compared with their plain 
 white. She lifted a lorgnette and surveyed the group 
 under the trees, and slipped a little silken powder pad 
 over her nose as she noted the presence of a new 
 man. 
 
 "Ah, Hallet, old boy, just too late for the fair!" 
 called Gilman, cheerily. "We have had an ideal day. 
 Let me present you to Mrs. Smythe-Orville. We had 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 107 
 
 all begun to think you were going to keep on the town 
 treadmill the rest of the season." 
 
 "We can t all be care-free butterflies like you, Gil- 
 man, or bloated aristocrats with handsome yachts like 
 Tony. All I can hope for is a look-in occasionally. 
 Where is Mrs. Wayne ? Did n t you meet her ? " 
 
 " Monica here ! My dearest Monica, where, which 
 way did she go?" asked Lulu, eagerly, as she grasped 
 Joe s arm with the evident intent of going in search. 
 
 "Lulu," protested the sweet, tired voice of Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville, " do subdue your ecstasies. One would 
 think her a long lost sister." 
 
 " Oh, but Mama, I idolized her when I was a little 
 girl ; it is three years ago. I never have seen her since, 
 and papa loved her dearly." 
 
 " Try and cultivate a little more repose even though 
 papa did love her dearly," suggested the lady with a 
 faint, ironic smile. " Mr. Dacy can t enjoy that posi 
 
 tion." 
 
 Lulu giggled and released her grip on Joe. 
 
 " Was I pinching you? " she asked, and then the two 
 smiled and conferred apart in low tones, while the 
 others moved to the seats on the lawn. Gilman alone 
 stood near the pergola, writing in a little notebook, 
 his eyes occasionally on the two young people. 
 
 "A chiel s amang you taking notes," quoted Hallet, 
 confidentially, to Nell, who made a grimace of comic 
 dread. 
 
io8 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "And, faith, he ll prent it," she added. Anthony 
 Allen regarded Gilman kindly, but shook his head. 
 
 " He will catch some other fad or fever before the 
 notes are ever finished," he decided. "Gilly has a 
 new hobby with every change of the moon!" 
 
 Tea was brought out to the rustic table on the ter 
 race, and the group lounged in the shade and dis 
 coursed on the day s doings. Gilman carried tea to 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville and they sat slightly apart in con 
 versation too interesting to permit the lady to note that 
 Lulu and Joe were making a comically exaggerated 
 retreat towards the shore. With fingers on lips and 
 high, stealthy steps they afforded the others quiet 
 amusement until the shrubbery hid them. Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville nibbled biscuit and sipped her tea with no idea 
 of the little pantomime behind her back; in fact, the 
 fondness Lulu was exhibiting for comradeship with a 
 mere stripling, a stripling without an extra dollar, was 
 growing to be a source of annoyance to her. When a 
 girl gets started on an idle, profitless flirtation, it is 
 always more or less of a problem for a chaperone, and 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville had announced that with Lulu 
 she did not mean to allow any such useless pastime. 
 
 Of course, it was different with a woman who had 
 cares of her own, and really needed certain relaxations; 
 and to witness her rapt attention as Gilman read her 
 some of his human interest notes, an outsider might 
 have been led to think that Mrs. Smythe-Orville was 
 actually flirting herself, or else in earnest. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 109 
 
 "I do not usually read fiction, Mr. Oilman," she 
 confessed in her languishing tones and exaggerated 
 English intonation, "but I really shall look forward 
 to reading your book, you know; an autographed copy, 
 please. I should treasure it!" 
 
 "And if it turns out to be a play, Fannie, he will 
 have to substitute an autographed order for a box. 
 How long would you treasure that?" 
 
 "You must not mind the frivolous remarks of the 
 light-minded group under that tree," said Gilman, 
 warningly; "they are a non-inspirational lot. But you 
 are different; you realize that when a man elects to do 
 a really representative piece of work he should select 
 the medium with great care. Suppose you have a story 
 to tell [the non-inspirational group smiled. Nell even 
 giggled, and Tony Allen slid limply under the table as 
 if overcome by the prospect], you can tell it in a poem, 
 or novel, or a play. Ever have your head examined? " 
 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville sat up, forgetting for a moment 
 her becoming, languorous pose, while Nell touched 
 Tony with the tip of her white shoe and checked his 
 whispered threat to scream. 
 
 "I mean by a phrenologist," continued Oilman, 
 serenely oblivious to the joy occasioned by his latest 
 hobby; "a really wonderful science. All his life a 
 man may possess astonishing talents shut in under his 
 skull, and never have a suspicion of them. Phrenology 
 is the golden key to the casket; through it I discovered 
 I had the equipment of a dramatist." 
 
I io The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "How remarkable," breathed Mrs. Smythe-Orville. 
 
 " The only way," whispered Miss Mitford. 
 
 " When I learned that I went to work in a thoroughly 
 scientific way. Notes? you should see my collection," 
 said Oilman, growing enthusiastic in the presence of so 
 sympathetic a listener. " I have them all classified 
 already and only been at work a month. One for 
 tragedy, others for comedy, romance, adventure, 
 society, outdoor life here is the latter," and he drew 
 the little red notebook from his pocket and turned 
 the pages for his fair audience. "You see, phenomena, 
 sea notes, woodland notes. How could you better 
 that?" 
 
 "You couldn t, Gillie," conceded Nell; "the only 
 next best thing would be to buy a few encyclopedias." 
 
 "I realized," said Mrs. Smythe-Orville, "that you 
 were planning something very important. And does 
 your friend, the distinguished novelist, Mr. Sargent, 
 work from such prettily classified material?" 
 
 " McLane Sargent? No, indeed," said Gilman, 
 shaking his head. " Sargent has no method, no method 
 at all; just strikes out on the trail, hit or miss." 
 
 "Usually hits," said Tony Allen, with a ponderous 
 sigh as he scrambled up from the grass. " He makes 
 center shots with no trouble in the world." 
 
 Nell laughed with the others at the statement and 
 doleful tone. The application to herself was so frank 
 that the amusement was general, and even Mrs. Dacy 
 could take no offense. She had stated to Hallet that 
 
The Woman of the Twilight ill 
 
 Tony was behaving beautifully, and even his open 
 avowal that he had no hope of falling in love again 
 for at least a year, was made so frankly that he seemed 
 a very safe comrade, if only Elinor would be goodl 
 But Elinor was not making any promises. 
 
 " Lulu is quite wild over that last book of his, or 
 rather the pictures," observed Mrs. Smythe-Orville. 
 " She declares that the woman in the pictures reminds 
 her of your friend, Mrs. Wayne." 
 
 Elinor Mitford sat up suddenly, very straight, and 
 whistled, a long, low, thoughtful whistle, as she stared 
 at the others. 
 
 "Fannie, you are a green and white jewel," she 
 decided. " My poor brain has been muddled just think 
 ing of those lovely drawings; they did have such a 
 familiar note, yet I never was able to locate the rea 
 son. Tony, do run in the house and get my copy of 
 the book; that s a good child. George, did you 
 notice any resemblance?" 
 
 "N-no," said Hallet, slowly, "I never thought 
 of it, yet " 
 
 "You see, as soon as it is mentioned you do think 
 of it. And Lulu was the only one of us to sense the 
 reason why they seemed so not exactly familiar, but 
 just" 
 
 Words failed Miss Mitford as she spread out her 
 hands at the futility of expression for the subtle some 
 thing, fascinating, yet evanescent, in the drawings. 
 
 Tony appeared, walking majestically with the vol- 
 
112 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 ume extended on open palms as a priest officiating at 
 some ceremony, and, making a profound obeisance, 
 offered it to Miss Mitford with a quaint grimace. It 
 was the lauded work of his successful rival, and he 
 appreciated the situation. 
 
 They laughed at his pantomime, but gathered 
 eagerly around the book, turning the pages and scan 
 ning the illustrations. 
 
 There were fragments of the cliffs and purple- 
 shadowed waters at their base, long stretches of yellow 
 sand meeting the curling foam of the breakers, ranges 
 where the yellow of the poppies reached from ocean 
 to mountain, and every here and there a bit of the 
 old mission broken archway, shaded patio, festoons 
 of the pepper trees, and wide-spreading palms all 
 these as settings for the woman who moved through 
 the story, slender and dark, in shadowy mantilla. 
 Whether kneeling at a shrine, or walking under the 
 arches, or riding under the aliso trees of the 
 canon, all of the group were suddenly alive to the 
 fact that the wonderful illustrations gave never a clear 
 view of the face of the woman; it was either shadowed 
 or drooping or turned aside. Yet so cleverly was it 
 done that the spirit and feeling of the figure was never 
 weakened, and the hands alone had remarkable 
 character. 
 
 "Well, upon my word," gasped Elinor Mitford, 
 "I never saw anything quite like it! Until we started 
 to look for the face I never discovered that it isn t 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 113 
 
 there. Why, it is like a set of puzzle pictures, and 
 Lane never even mentioned it! I wonder I wonder 
 if he passed them over as I did?" 
 
 "Well," remarked Mrs. Smythe-Orville, "this one 
 picture of the girl in the mantilla on the cliff does 
 resemble the figure of the girl alone in the sailboat 
 whom we were watching through the glass, Mr. Gil- 
 man and I. He was enthusiastic over the way she 
 handled it." 
 
 " Then Monica was your girl alone in the sailboat ! 
 There are not so many others who dare this coast 
 alone. She is like a fish in the water." 
 
 " But how does it come that Mr. Sargent has that 
 especial type of woman for his illustrations?" 
 
 "Are they even acquainted?" asked Tony Allen. 
 
 "No, indeed! I had not seen him for years until 
 lately never even mentioned him to Monica. But 
 there is a delightful mystery about these drawings 
 no one knows who made them, not even Lane. My, I 
 feel like a female Sherlock! whoever made these illus 
 trations had studied Monica s figure and characteristic 
 poses." 
 
 "There is a strong suggestion of her, even her 
 hand," said Hallet. "Some clever fellow with a 
 camera " 
 
 " Oh, she knows artists by the dozen. One of them 
 has certainly dreamed of her as she made those draw 
 ings. I do wonder if Monica knows of them. All 
 that I know is that a woman sent them to the pub- 
 
114 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Ushers and signed no name only this little Chinese 
 symbol but she certainly can t be a Chink I I can 
 scarcely wait to learn if Monica knows her." 
 
 "I shall feel quite overwhelmed by all the talent 
 here," remarked Mrs. Smythe-Orville. " A picturesque 
 artist, and two novelists." Her glance rested on Gil- 
 man as one of them, and he smiled blandly. He had 
 actually talked both novel and play until he felt they 
 were at least partly written. 
 
 "Will any art on this side of the water help you 
 forget the charms of the Mediterranean, or your latest 
 victim, the Count of Castlemar?" 
 
 "Oh, that is a life apart!" she breathed, raptur 
 ously. 
 
 "The Count of Castlemar?" said Hallet; "do you 
 refer to the American named Harris, who has lately 
 purchased an estate called Castlemar on the Italian 
 coast?" 
 
 "He may be American born, but I fancied him 
 English; he is so delightfully fascinating." 
 
 Hamilton Dacy, who had been lounging in an easy 
 chair half dozing, opened his eyes and regarded Hallet, 
 whose tone was carefully careless. 
 
 "A man about forty-eight, dark eyes, black 
 mustache, and imperial?" 
 
 " Oh, you know him ? " 
 
 "I know something of the fame of his entertain 
 ments," returned Hallet. "A fine place, judging from 
 newspaper items." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 115 
 
 u Magnificent ! " breathed Mrs. Smythe-Orville, 
 ecstatically. " Marble terraces overhanging the sea, a 
 pavilion under glass where he gave moonlight dances, 
 a perfect fairy land there is a land of real romance 
 for your notebook, Mr. Gilman! " 
 
 Gilman listened with interest to her glowing pic 
 ture as they sauntered along the terrace in the wake 
 of the others, while Hallet smiled ironically at Mr. 
 Dacy. 
 
 u A fine background for a man whose wife is glad of 
 every extra order for work," he observed. " I suppose 
 you caught on, Dacy ? " 
 
 "Hardly. Count of Castlemar? What new freak 
 is that?" 
 
 Hallet took a letter from his pocket. " Just received 
 from Italy," he observed. " I took the first train 
 up. Mrs. Wayne is here. I want to talk to you 
 before seeing her, and I should go back in the 
 morning." 
 
 Hamilton Dacy read the letter with an accompani 
 ment of shrugs and grunts of impatience. His wife 
 halted on the terrace and, observing that the two men 
 had lingered behind purposely, guessed the reason. 
 
 "Hamilton!" she called. "I suppose you had bet 
 ter send someone to look for Monica." 
 
 " I will let him go in a minute, Mrs. Dacy a little 
 business " 
 
 " But I utterly disapprove of the * business. 1 Until 
 death do ye part/ says the marriage service." 
 
n6 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Mrs. Dacy, when a husband crosses half the world 
 with another lady friend and leaves his wife be 
 hind, we have to realize that life has many deaths to 
 consider besides the final one." 
 
 " Of course, I can t defend Glyndon s conduct," she 
 conceded, "but there has never been a divorce in the 
 family, and I can t see that one is needed now. It 
 would make a horrid scandal." 
 
 Her husband finished reading the letter, and paced 
 down to the pergola and back, his hands clasped besides 
 him, and a frown on his round, good-natured face. His 
 wife, receiving no reply from him, turned back to the 
 house. Having asserted herself, she could afford to 
 wait for an opportunity to discuss the matter alone 
 with him. 
 
 " Gad! he s a case," said Mr. Dacy, finally. " Tired 
 of that fool woman, and I suppose he wants a new 
 one, who insists on marriage as a sop to Society! " 
 
 "See, here, Dacy," said Hallet, guardedly, as the 
 two paced side by side across the lawn. " Mrs. Wayne 
 gave you her little money to take care of, or invest. 
 Can t you make a lucky strike with that deposit, clear 
 a couple of thousand for her? Not enough to make 
 her suspicious, but enough to cover divorce costs if she 
 could bring herself to consider it. The cost might be a 
 drawback, and she is so independent." 
 
 " Cost, nonsense," growled his partner. " Why 
 should she consider cost? Doesn t he offer to pay all 
 bills, and make her a fine allowance besides?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 117 
 
 "You know she hasn t touched his money, and that 
 she won t touch it." 
 
 "But this lucky strike business? The two thou 
 sand" 
 
 "I ll furnish that," said Hallet, quietly, "but it s 
 between you and me, Dacy." 
 
 Hamilton Dacy sat down suddenly on a rustic seat 
 and stared at his partner in amazement that was half 
 reproof. 
 
 " Dangerous ground, George, dangerous ground." 
 
 Hallet felt the color flaming in his face as Dacy 
 stared, and frowned, and tapped the arm of the chair 
 nervously. He had never in all their experience had 
 call to check George Hallet for an unwise, irrational 
 impulse George, who was steady as the town clock, 
 but this 
 
 "Oh, damn the conventions!" exclaimed Hallet in 
 answer, not so much to Dacy s words as his expression. 
 " Why should a man not help a woman friend, when 
 he is allowed, and expected, to turn his pockets inside 
 out for a man friend? She won t borrow from his 
 relatives; she has but little capital of her own. I d 
 give a lot more than the money to see her free entirely. 
 She is only a girl after all; why can t we help her to a 
 girl s freedom?" 
 
 " And what about you ? " asked Mr. Dacy, bluntly. 
 
 "I wouldn t dare offer her the money, 1 acknowl 
 edged Hallet, " and I don t know that she would ever 
 
Ii8 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 look at me, but if she were free well, I could take my 
 chance with the others! " 
 
 " If she has good sense you will win, George, but a 
 woman is too uncertain to bet on even Monica. 
 You Ve won this court though. I 11 back you up ; but 
 what did that * count business mean? I didn t 
 grasp it." 
 
 "Did I only show you one letter?" asked Hallet, 
 searching his other pockets and halting as he saw a 
 woman coming up the cliff, appearing and disappearing 
 again in the shrubbery. " Never mind about the other 
 letter now she is coming. You speak to her at once 
 concerning the money you made for her in stocks I ll 
 go and meet her." 
 
 " But see here, Hallet ! Confound it. Tell me what 
 stock?" 
 
 But Hallet, in passing between two great clumps of 
 laurel, made a rustle of branches, drowning the last 
 word, and Hamilton Dacy was left sputtering and 
 uncertain, while his younger partner reached the edge 
 of the lawn just as a girl in gray emerged from the 
 shrubbery. Gowned and shod in gray, she had the 
 touch of white in the loose tie under the sailor collar, 
 and the white lace mantilla falling from her shoulders. 
 Some unruly branches had caught in her hair, and in 
 loosening a twig her face was averted and half turned 
 aside, so that she did not see Hallet until he was quite 
 close. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 119 
 
 She uttered a little cry of pleasure and both hands 
 went out to him quickly. 
 
 "Of course, you would come through the jungle 
 instead of the graded path," he observed as he picked 
 some leaves from her hair, and Hamilton Dacy, watch 
 ing them, suddenly decided that George might have a 
 chance if affairs worked out right and what a good, 
 sensible thing it would be. Strange it had never 
 occurred to him before. 
 
 " Everything is commonplace on the graded path," 
 said the girl in gray, looking up at him with a grimace 
 tinged by a smile, and then she went forward to the 
 older man and shook hands heartily. 
 
 " Uncle Dacy, you all ran away from me," she com 
 plained. " I was out on the water alone but could not 
 find you." 
 
 " My dear child, you gave us no hope that we might 
 expect you," said Mr. Dacy, leading her to a seat with 
 a certain affectionate regard. "You know none of us 
 would be surprised to hear from you in Peru. We 
 never do know when you will dawn upon us or when 
 you will fade away. Well, well, hard work seems to 
 agree with you, and Hallet here tells me you are going 
 in for this sort of thing seriously," and he touched a 
 small sketch book she carried. 
 
 "I should say so," she returned gaily. "Maum 
 Rosa and I have been working ourselves to frazzles on 
 my new studio. My first real workshop in the city! 
 
I2O The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 I am delighted with it, and shall do some portraits next 
 winter in addition to my other work. All good friends, 
 please remember me." 
 
 " I certainly shall, 1 said Hallet. " I give you a com 
 mission now to paint Dacy, but I believe he has some 
 good news for you, and I hope I have some more." 
 
 Monica Wayne looked from one to the other 
 quizzically. 
 
 u Two lawyers, each with separate and individual 
 good news for me ! " she said, looking straight ahead 
 as if weighing the statement. Then she turned confi 
 dentially to Dacy and asked in a pretense of a whisper, 
 "Who s dead?" 
 
 " Monica ! " 
 
 " My only guess," she retorted, smiling at his 
 attempted austerity. "You had better tell me." 
 
 "Suppose," he said, impressively, "I had made two 
 thousand for you in a lucky investment." 
 
 "With my money?" she asked, eyeing him as he 
 nodded complacently. " You! Why, I went with you 
 to order things last summer at the village store, and 
 you didn t know cabbages from cauliflower." 
 
 " Cabbages are not quite in the same class with 
 stocks," he returned. 
 
 "But I thought you invested my little money in 
 government bonds do they take jumps like that?" 
 she persisted. 
 
 Hamilton Dacy looked towards Hallet for help, but 
 Hallet was looking seaward. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 121 
 
 "Why you see I thought it was a good thing," 
 he stated, a bit lamely, " and when I saw a good chance 
 in mining stocks " 
 
 "Mining stocks, what in?" asked Monica Wayne, 
 "and when?" 
 
 "Ah, Monday, the 23rd no, 24th in in " and 
 he moved a step towards Hallet as Monica lifted her 
 hat from the ground where it had fallen. "George, 
 what in?" 
 
 "Anaconda," said Hallet without turning his head. 
 But, quietly though it was spoken, Monica Wayne 
 heard it and grew a trifle more alert, as one who was 
 accustomed to hold herself on guard. 
 
 "Yes, Anawanda," stated Dacy, easily, as if dispos 
 ing of the question, "and now," he added, briskly, 
 "you must come in and meet the others; they are all 
 waiting for you." 
 
 "How do you spell it?" asked the girl, ignoring 
 entirely the social joys within reach, and Mr. Dacy 
 with a final attempt at bluff spelled " A-n-a-w-a-n-d-a," 
 at which Hallet groaned and Monica Wayne laughed. 
 
 "Romancing is hard work, isn t it?" she asked. 
 " Don t you try it again in warm weather. You dear 
 old goose ! there is an Anawanda stock on the market 
 bogus stock. I left a friend prostrated in New 
 York because she had invested in it. Now Uncle 
 Dacy, fess up! Why are you trying this sort of 
 thing with me?" 
 
 Hamilton Dacy faced her, pompous and incredulous 
 
122 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 as she began, limp and exasperated as she questioned 
 him. What business had a pretty girl to be better 
 posted on mining stocks than the man who was virtually 
 the head of the family? He had always understood 
 that the artistic temperament was lacking in practical 
 equipment. Why, even his practical wife would have 
 been so delighted to have the extra money that she 
 would not have cared an iota what stock it came from ; 
 but Monica well, Monica was, to put it mildly, 
 difficult. 
 
 "Why, why, Monica, " he began, courageously. 
 
 " Now the undraped truth, Uncle Dacy ! " 
 
 "Well, you see, well, we thought, Hallet and I " 
 
 "Hallet can tell his own news,* 1 said his partner, 
 coming forward, as Mr. Dacy floundered and failed 
 under Monica s ironical smile. "I think Mrs. Dacy 
 spoke of tea, and " 
 
 " So she did," agreed the mendacious Dacy, plainly 
 relieved at the suggestion. "George can tell you all 
 about it, Monica. You you can depend on George." 
 With which quite unnecessary advice he beat a retreat 
 to the house, grumbling condemnation on the Anacon- 
 dawanda stocks. 
 
 Monica Wayne looked after him, amused and puz 
 zled, and then turned to Hallet, who stood silently 
 regarding her. 
 
 "How generous of him," she said, with a tender 
 note of affection in her mellow voice. " But why should 
 he do that, or try to do it?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 123 
 
 " Perhaps to help you arrange this," he said, sitting 
 beside her and offering her the letter Dacy had read. 
 She put forth her hand, but drew it back as she saw 
 the writing, and the warm notes were gone from her 
 voice, the smile from her deep eyes. 
 
 " I don t think I care to read that," she remarked, 
 mdifferently. " I can trust you to tell me all I need to 
 know." 
 
 " Mr. Wayne wants a divorce." 
 
 She leaned back and looked at him with a little 
 grimace, showing the white teeth. 
 
 " Get it for him, Mr. Lawyer," she advised. 
 
 " We can t; no one can. The matter rests with you," 
 he stated, briefly. "He offers you a most substantial 
 settlement if you will secure a divorce allowing him to 
 marry again." 
 
 "I might consider it if he married the woman he 
 went away with," she observed, " the woman he should 
 have married when he married me." 
 
 George Hallet regarded her with a sort of wonder 
 in his eyes, but shook his head. 
 
 "He could not have married her then; she was not 
 free. It is not likely he will marry her now. She was 
 very reckless, more reckless than you know. Her story 
 is unfortunately too well known, and society " 
 
 "But society would receive him with open arms if 
 he abandons her ! " interrupted Monica Wayne, impa 
 tiently. "Dear society! George Hallet, I came up 
 here for a holiday, and you greet me with that ! " 
 
124 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 She waved a shapely, accusing hand towards the 
 letter she disdained to read. But Hallet caught the 
 hand and checked her evident intent to follow Dacy 
 to the house. 
 
 "Listen," he said, quietly. "I know they all, Mrs. 
 Dacy especially, advise you against divorce, but they 
 are thinking of the family, while I am thinking of you. 
 By the law you are still his wife." 
 
 " I shall be my own law." 
 
 "Wait," he said, persuasively, and took an envelope 
 from his pocket containing some newspaper clippings, 
 which he unfolded. " These are gleaned from foreign 
 correspondents and all refer in various tones to the 
 startling notoriety gained lately by a man called by 
 courtesy the Lord of Castlemar. His excesses fur 
 nished gossip of no small importance in Italy last 
 
 winter." 
 
 "Well, what of that?" she asked, with a little 
 puzzled frown. 
 
 " Glyndon H. Wayne of New York became Harris 
 Glyndon of Paris with Mrs. Harris Glyndon, of 
 
 course." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne was regarding a scratch on her pretty 
 gray shoe, and a snagged place on the gray silk stock 
 ing already a broken thread had started a tiny ladder 
 on the instep. 
 
 "Your news is three years old, Mr. Lawyer," she 
 observed. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 125 
 
 George Hallet looked at her grimly, and then leaned 
 forward, tapping the paper impressively. 
 
 "This is not; he has left Paris, and lately, Mrs. 
 Glyndon. He has bought an estate in Italy called 
 Castlemar, and the title is assumed with the property, 
 or bestowed upon him by his group of sycophants ! 
 The new friends of Harris know little of Mr. Glyndon, 
 and nothing at all of Mr. Wayne, but some day there 
 will be an explosion over there, and some lurid scandals, 
 also our home papers will have full-page pictures of 
 all the principals. Don t risk having your name 
 dragged through the mire he has made. He wants a 
 divorce ; let him have it and get your own freedom." 
 
 He was so earnest in his appeal that she did not 
 smile any more; neither did she look at him. His per 
 sonal interest crept into his tones and she glanced 
 towards the terrace, hoping for some interruption, but 
 no wished-for intruder was in sight. 
 
 " Do the Dacys know this?" she asked at last. 
 
 "Only that he wants the divorce. Mrs. Wayne, 
 some day you also may want it. You are young to 
 think of all your life alone, and I " 
 
 Monica Wayne halted him with lifted hands of 
 protest as she rose. 
 
 " Don t spoil my holiday by suggesting marriage as 
 an inevitable bugaboo of the future," she said, mock 
 ingly. " No, thank you. Matrimony as an institution 
 has no charm for me." 
 
126 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Oh," and Hallet s expression was rueful as he fol 
 lowed her to the veranda, " if you regard it merely as 
 an institution ! " 
 
 " My only point of view," she said, lightly, and then 
 with a tardy appreciation of his helpfulness she stopped 
 at the veranda steps and added, " But I do realize that 
 you mean it all for my own good, and I promise to 
 think of your proposal." 
 
 In their earnestness neither of them had noticed the 
 group inside the open French window until Elinor Mit- 
 ford laughed, and then emerged to greet Mrs. Wayne 
 with an avalanche of kisses and rapturous expressions 
 of joy. 
 
 "A proposal your very first day at the shore! 
 Monica Wayne, I am surprised, and" she added, 
 turning to the others "she promised to think 
 about it ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dacy looked sharply at Hallet, but he only 
 smiled at her, while Tony Allen made his nicest bow 
 and lifted Mrs. Wayne s hand to his lips. Tony was 
 always on his best behavior with her. 
 
 " Madame Monica, moon and tide have been wait 
 ing until you arrived," he stated. "We can now con 
 sider our summer as here." 
 
 "How nice to find you and Nanny in the harbor 
 ahead of me," she said, greeting them in frank com 
 radeship. " Did not some one mention tea ? " 
 
 "Just around the corner," stated Tony, and drew 
 her hand through his arm. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 127 
 
 "Oh, wait one little, little moment," begged Elinor. 
 "Tony, where is that book? Monica, do stand just 
 as you are and let me drape this lace scarf over your 
 head there, if that window was only an arch instead 
 of a square, and those trees outside were only palms 
 instead of elms " 
 
 "What on earth are you talking about, Nell?" 
 demanded the improvised model, "and what have 
 you there, Tony?" 
 
 " McLane Sargent s new book, The Woman of the 
 Twilight/" 
 
 " And we have all decided that the artist who made 
 those illustrations has studied you, Monica Wayne ! " 
 announced Nell in triumph. " It is exactly your type. 
 Here is the picture of the woman in the arch, a certain 
 pose, a certain style it is almost identical." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Monica, tossing the scarf from 
 her head to her shoulders. "You have the most 
 remarkable imagination, Nell." 
 
 " Imagination nothing," returned Nell in glee. 
 " They all can see it It will be a joy to show Lane." 
 
 " Lane ! " repeated Monica, looking at her in a puz 
 zled way. "You mean McLane Sargent, the writer? 
 You know him?" 
 
 " Slightly," acknowledged Nell, to the amusement of 
 the others. " He is a great pet of Auntie s. Now tell 
 us, Monica, do you know who made those illustra 
 tions?" 
 
 Monica Wayne sank into a seat, while Nell turned 
 
ia8 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 the leaves rapidly, showing her one drawing after an 
 other without receiving a word of comment: " Do you, 
 Monica?" 
 
 "What is the name?" asked Mrs. Wayne. "None 
 of these are signed." 
 
 44 Oh!" sighed Nell, hopelessly. "If we knew the 
 name we would know all about it. Did you ever pose 
 for a friend like this, or this?" 
 
 "Never," stated Monica Wayne, decidedly. "It is 
 a real test of devotion to pose for a brother or sister 
 artist, and I am not a devoted creature. Any little 
 similarity you think you have discovered is a mere 
 coincidence." 
 
 " Think I have discovered. Why, Tony" 
 
 "Tony always finds living is more comfortable if he 
 agrees with you," said Mrs. Wayne, serenely. "So 
 you two children can look at pictures while Mr. Hallet 
 and I have tea." 
 
 44 Now, see what you spoiled for me," said Tony, 
 looking dolefully after Mrs. Wayne and Hallet. " If 
 it had not been for your dinky little picture book it 
 might have been my proud task to select the lump of 
 sugar for her tea. I never loved a dear gazelle but 
 what it fell with the buttered side down ! " 
 
 44 Tony, you get crazier every minute," was Miss 
 Mitford s retort to his wail. " But I will find you a 
 nice little sugar plum instead of the gazelle. You 
 never did get me those water lilies you promised." 
 
 "Now is the accepted time," announced Tony, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 129 
 
 valiantly, and the two ran down the steps just as Mrs. 
 Dacy caught sight of them through the window. 
 
 " Elinor, where are you going?" she asked, and 
 the two halted, and Tony drew a doleful face of comic 
 despair. 
 
 " No sugar plums for me," he sighed. 
 
 " Tony was going down to the pond to get me lilies," 
 said Elinor, bravely; but Mrs. Dacy shook her head. 
 
 " Tony can escort you instead to meet the next train," 
 she suggested. " Mr. Sargent will be on it." 
 
 "So, you sent for him?" asked Miss Mitford, look 
 ing very levelly at her aunt, but the tone of Mrs. Dacy 
 was mildly corrective. 
 
 "I invited him, and he has telegraphed acceptance." 
 
 "Well," hesitated her niece, u he did not telegraph 
 me, so how was I to know? And I promised Tony " 
 
 " Mrs. Dacy is quite right," said Tony, with a most 
 virtuous air. "The lilies can make up their minds 
 to wait. Someone should meet Mr. Sargent; natu 
 rally it would add to the joy of that conquering hero 
 if you should be the someone." 
 
 The young lady looked at him in amazement. 
 
 "Well," she grumbled, irritably, "between the two 
 of you " 
 
 "Thank you, Tony," and Mrs. Dacy beamed on her 
 unexpected assistant. " Elinor does not seem to realize 
 that to be the well, one may say the help and inspira 
 tion of a man like McLane Sargent is a gift of Provi 
 dence not to be trifled with." 
 
130 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Mrs. Wayne stepped out on the veranda, smiling 
 down on Elinor and Anthony. The precise tones of 
 Mrs. Dacy indicated that the girl was the recipient of 
 a lecture, though the cause had not reached her ears. 
 But at sight of her Elinor Mitford laughed skepti 
 cally, thankful for any excuse for retort When her 
 Aunt Martha dragged in Providence as the clincher to 
 an argument, her niece usually evoked the diabolical, 
 and the sight of Monica Wayne reminded her of the 
 much-discussed pictures. 
 
 " Inspiration," she repeated, mockingly. " Do you 
 know the real inspiration of Lane Sargent? It s the 
 unknown woman who made the drawings for that 
 book!" 
 
 "Elinor!" 
 
 "How do you know it is a woman," asked Tony, 
 banteringly, "since they are not signed?" 
 
 "How do I know?" interrupted Elinor. "I know 
 because he told me. You remember the story was 
 published as a novelette in a magazine without illus 
 trations. It made a big hit, and an unknown artist 
 sent in a dozen drawings, giving a fictitious name, and 
 stating that for family reasons she could not be known 
 as the illustrator. Well, you can imagine how both 
 Lane and the publisher jumped at the chance of those 
 clever drawings. He exchanged letters with her, all 
 about art, of course, according to his story. I fancy 
 his grew rather warm. At any rate, the woman put 
 an end to the correspondence by telling him she was a 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 131 
 
 married woman. I never saw a man more broken up. 
 If it is possible for a man to be in love with the mind 
 of a woman he never saw then Lane Sargent was in 
 love with that woman. He was in a blind, swearing 
 rage at being tricked by her like that. Oh, he is will 
 ing to accept ordinary folk for every-day company, but 
 she is his real inspiration ! " 
 
 "Elinor!" and Mrs. Dacy was plainly shocked as 
 the words came tumbling over each other to prove that 
 their celebrity was but common clay after all. As she 
 turned away she added, "I trust you do not express 
 those exaggerated ideas to anyone else. Tony, don t 
 take her seriously." 
 
 "No, Tony, don t," and Miss Mitford shrugged 
 her shoulders at both of them and started at a swing 
 ing gait to the stables, with Tony doing an imitation 
 trot at her heels. 
 
 Monica Wayne looked after them with a wistful 
 fondness in her eyes. How wonderful to remain as 
 young, as impulsive, and care-free as those two had 
 always been. That was the beauty of having had a 
 real childhood, and thus grow by degrees into the 
 atmosphere of the later years. And by contrast how 
 harsh, how tragic was her own girlhood, thrust for 
 ward into the maelstrom of volcanic emotions at an 
 age when happier children are reading and dreaming 
 of fairy tales, and the waiting maid to whom the 
 prince comes. 
 
 A quick sigh touched her lips, and she lifted the little 
 
132 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 book from the chair and turned the pages, smiling 
 faintly at the things she had heard; and Hallet, who 
 had been watching the picture she made against the 
 pink glow of the evening sky, came forward. 
 
 " Sargent s novel?" he remarked, glancing down at 
 it in her hand. " You must read it. Your memories of 
 the Mexican country should make it of interest to you; 
 but I presume those childhood recollections have grown 
 a bit dim after the glories of old Spain." 
 
 She looked at him, and past him, and for a brief 
 moment saw again that childhood of which she would 
 never speak. She shivered and drew the lace scarf 
 about her. 
 
 u No, they have not grown dim," she said, simply. 
 
 He looked at her, and realized that in some un 
 known way he had caused her to put up the wall of 
 reserve, which all of them were made conscious of at 
 times. 
 
 You don t seem ever really to need humanity," 
 he said, gently. ; Yet there are times when you make 
 me feel I would like to be the one to help you. You 
 scoff at marriage now, but some day some man, the 
 right man, will make you think of it. Then you will 
 want no barrier of the law between you; you will want 
 to be free." 
 
 "Who is freer than I? The only bonds about me 
 are a protection. They make me taboo to the flirta 
 tions other girls are doomed to, and secure me 
 liberty to work." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 133 
 
 He smiled at her, but shook his head. 
 
 "Suppose a day should come when work does not 
 seem the only thing in the world? You will want to 
 be free to give your hand where the heart leads. That 
 sounds extremely sentimental from a lawyer to a client, 
 but think of it." 
 
 She rose to her feet and nodded her head without 
 looking at him. 
 
 " Yes, I will," she murmured. " I 11 think of it." 
 
 She walked slowly across the terrace to the pergola, 
 and much as he would have liked to walk beside her, 
 he felt barred out and stood watching her and watching 
 some birds wheeling above her, little fluttering gleams 
 against the sky. As she disappeared in the screen of 
 the vines he turned away and noted the figure of the 
 girl Hettie as she fairly ran up the path and towards 
 the side entrance. In a way she reminded him of the 
 low-flying birds darting here and there towards shelter 
 for the dark to come. 
 
 But the birds had glad little calls and many coquet- 
 tings, while the girl s face was pale, and her eyes held 
 nothing of gladness. 
 
 "You look tired, little girl," he said, kindly, and 
 she halted and looked up at him with the quick color 
 flushing her face. 
 
 "It is a steep climb from the Cove, Mr. Hallet," 
 she answered with a little nervous fluttering in the 
 throat, "and I hurried so, yet it is late and " 
 
 Hallet made a gesture of detention, and she watched 
 
134 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 him, wondering, as he stepped down from the veranda 
 and walked beside her. 
 
 "Hettie, I I hear that your grandfather has no 
 steady employment beyond the trifling work for Mrs. 
 Wayne, and I might speak for him to some boat-club 
 friends, if you think " 
 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
 "I wouldn t dare ask you, Mr. Hallet it would 
 only make trouble for you. He he can t keep any 
 place steady along the shore. I am ashamed to tell 
 you but " 
 
 She turned her head away to hide the tears in her 
 eyes, and Hallet found himself patting her on the 
 shoulder with never a suspicion that a housemaid with 
 jealous eyes was staring at them from the window of 
 the dining room. 
 
 " There, there, Hettie, don t cry about it. You have 
 a serious talk with him and let me know results. Per 
 haps among strangers he might do better. Here is one 
 of my business cards. You write to me for him; we 
 will see what we can do. Come now, cheer up ! " 
 
 The girl looked at him so gratefully that it was 
 embarrasing, and while she did put out her hand, she 
 uttered no actual word of thanks, but he understood, 
 and patted her hand reassuringly. 
 
 "That s a good girl, don t cry, cheer up," he added, 
 and then, followed by her almost adoring gaze, took 
 himself around to the front of the house as quickly 
 as might be. Heavens ! why should a young thing like 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 135 
 
 that, with eyes like a hurt fawn, have to carry the woes 
 of the dissipations of age? 
 
 In his haste to evade her thanks, he had not noted 
 that in taking out a pocketbook for his card he had 
 dropped a handkerchief on the grass at the feet of the 
 girl. She stooped and lifted it as if it had been a 
 flower, and, holding it a moment in both hands, thrust 
 it hurriedly, secretly, into her blouse, and turned to 
 enter the house as Mrs. Dacy, austere and indignant, 
 stood at the closed door. 
 
 " Your money will be sent you tomorrow," she said, 
 coldly. " I have no further use for your services." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dacy, I tried, but I could not return 
 earlier I had to find him I " 
 
 "And you may give me that card," continued the 
 shocked lady. " I cannot employ girls who waylay 
 gentlemen on our estate. The parlor maid tells me it 
 has occurred before. I am surprised at Mr. Hallet." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Dacy, call him back, ask him 1 " 
 
 "Ask him why he makes appointments with you 
 and why his handkerchief is treasured in that manner? " 
 
 The girl only stared at her, wordless, but her hand 
 crept to the fold of the blouse where the handkerchief 
 lay. She could see the smiling housemaid looking down 
 on them from the window and recalled some petty 
 jealousy she had forgotten yet it had led to this 1 
 
 " I have seen enough," said Mrs. Dacy as she turned 
 away, with an air of finality. " I gave your mother s 
 daughter a chance when no one else would, and the 
 
136 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 result has been what every one expected. I trust this 
 will be a lesson to you." 
 
 Then the door opened and closed, and the girl was 
 alone. She stood vaguely staring at the closed door, 
 as if striving to gather courage to approach, to explain; 
 but the sound of the girlish, care-free laughter came 
 to her from the path through the shrubbery, the voice 
 of Lulu, and with a gesture of despair she turned 
 backwards on the trail to the Cove. 
 
 Lulu s voice, high and clear, came to her, and she 
 was speaking to McLane Sargent. 
 
 "I should have known you anywhere by your pic 
 tures in the paper," she announced. " Was n t it nice 
 that your friends in the yacht brought you into the 
 very cove where we went to look for Mrs. Wayne ? " 
 
 " Rather," he agreed, " the yacht could not get up 
 quite the speed of a train, but it brought recompense," 
 and he smiled down in her eager face. " I did not 
 hope to find a water nymph at the shore to welcome 
 
 me." 
 
 " We would all have been down if we had known," 
 declared Lulu, "wouldn t we, Joe? Everyone is 
 daffy over your new book, and the girl in the pictures 
 looks like Monica, so, of course, I love them." 
 
 "Monica; you mean Nell s cousin?" he asked, and 
 then through the pergola he caught sight of a slender 
 figure coming towards them. "There comes Nell 
 
 now." 
 
 "Let s hide," suggested Lulu, clutching Sargent s 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 137 
 
 arm and waving Joe to the rear. To please her Sar 
 gent halted and enjoyed the dimples of anticipation as 
 she bent forward peering through the shrubbery, to 
 pounce on Nell as she came abreast. But Sargent from 
 his superior height could see over the mass of pink 
 laurel, and at first glimpse of a lace-draped head he 
 made a slight movement forward, then stood 
 astounded, staring. He could not see the face, as it 
 was half turned away and uplifted, watching the cir 
 cling birds, and walking slowly across the green, nearer 
 and nearer, to the hidden three. 
 
 " It is not Nell ! " and Sargent s voice was almost a 
 whisper through doubt and wonder. "It s my picture 
 * Woman of the Twilight M " 
 
 "It s Monica," cried Lulu, rushing forward, ecstat 
 ically. " Oh, my dear, dearest Monica ! " 
 
 u My little Lulu not so little now!" and Mrs. 
 Wayne held her off to note the growth of the years, and 
 then kissed her as Sargent and Joe came forward 
 Sargent with at least half his soul in his eyes and a 
 strange sense of having heard that voice, and even 
 looked in her eyes before. 
 
 She glanced up, and Lulu s chatter was unheeded as 
 she sank into the garden seat, and the book she carried 
 slid from her fingers and rested on the grass. 
 
 "This is Mr. Sargent, and here is Joe," stated Lulu, 
 pulling the latter forward. "We ve all been daft 
 over his new book I don t mean Joe s book." 
 
 " I fear I must have appeared daft at sight of you, 
 
138 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Madam Mrs. Wayne," Sargent remarked. u That 
 lace mantilla made you look to me as if the woman of 
 those illustrations had walked out of the pages of the 
 book to meet us in Mr. Dacy s garden." 
 
 " Nell imagined there was a resemblance, due I fancy 
 to the mantilla," and she drew the scarf from her head 
 and folded it carefully. That little bit of practical 
 work gave him time to scan both face and figure. 
 
 "She did not confide her imaginings to me," he 
 observed, " and it is more than the mantilla. May I 
 ask if you have any artist friend a woman who 
 possibly made the drawings for the book?" 
 
 "Here it is," said Lulu, eagerly, as Joe picked it 
 from the grass, and they all watched with interest as 
 she turned a few of the leaves and shook her head. 
 
 " Certainly no friend of mine or she would have 
 signed her creations and avoided trouble for me. I Ve 
 had to account for the shape of my head or shoulders 
 twice within an hour. For really, you see these draw 
 ings are merely landscapes with the human note only 
 suggested; there is no real portrait of a woman there 
 to compare anyone with." 
 
 " Yet there is an intangible something akin to you in 
 them. It gave me an uncanny shock to meet you. Your 
 very voice sounds as I knew it would when I saw you, 
 yet we never have met have we?" 
 
 u Probably not, or your impressions would not be so 
 vague," she remarked, ironically. " It all sounds very 
 nice and exciting, but " 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 139 
 
 She smiled politely, yet gave him the impression that 
 she was easily bored, and that his expressed thoughts 
 might seem a trifle fantastic to her. 
 
 "The desire to know is not an empty curiosity with 
 me. It is but I must not bore you with my reasons. 
 I understand that you are an artist, and " 
 
 "A different line of work, entirely different," she 
 said, amiably. " I prefer working out my own ideas 
 to illustrating text." 
 
 "Still, you will appreciate the beauty of these and 
 understand my interest in the maker of them." 
 
 She graciously gave her attention to the drawings, 
 with an obvious desire to please. 
 
 "This picture material is very good," she agreed. 
 "So many stories suggest no pictures and make hard 
 work for the illustrator; but this material is unusually 
 rich, and the drawings are pretty." 
 
 " Pretty ! " repeated McLane Sargent, with more 
 than a little of surprise as he looked at her. Others 
 had raved over them, and in the cabin of the yacht he 
 had just arrived in he had found several of them 
 mounted and pinned to the wall by one ardent admirer. 
 He was struck sharply by the contrast, and wondered 
 if Mrs. Wayne could possibly be of the narrow gauge 
 workers who were restricted to their own themes and 
 mediums. 
 
 "To me they are much more than merely pretty," 
 he continued, loyally. " They have done more to make 
 the book popular than the little story." 
 
140 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Oh, everyone likes the story," said Lulu, " though 
 I am not allowed to read it. Mama has to read it 
 first" 
 
 Her ingenuousness made them laugh and cleared 
 the air, rather heavily charged by the dogged per 
 sistence of Sargent. 
 
 "Well, 7 like the drawings; some of them are little 
 gems," and he turned the pages eagerly. u Would you 
 call that ruined dome with the poppies flaming against 
 the deep sky merely pretty?" he asked, "or the moon 
 rising back of the black cliff where the one lone figure 
 stands at the edge above the sea? or the deep purple 
 of the range where the solitary rider is the one far 
 human note? and the skies the wonderful tragic 
 skies ! Can you find these merely * pretty ? " 
 
 " I find them magnificent, if it please you," she said, 
 half laughing. " I certainly find you generous to your 
 artist, and that is refreshing, you know ! The troubles 
 of some of my art friends are many when they fail to 
 see things as the writer sees them." 
 
 "That is why these seem so wonderful to me," con 
 tinued Sargent, looking at the little book. " The artist 
 revealed to me much that was vague in my own mind. 
 She took the plain prose I wrote and lifted it into a 
 harmony by the big suggestion of the illustrations. The 
 atmosphere is perfect, more perfect than any I put into 
 the text; it is and will always be a marvel to me." 
 
 George Hallet and Hamilton Dacy, pacing the 
 veranda, talking and smoking, turned the corner, and 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 141 
 
 seeing the new arrival, met Sargent, and in the greet 
 ings, and in the chatter of Lulu over their luck in see 
 ing him first, Monica Wayne remained seated, glancing 
 idly over the book and occasionally noted the pretty 
 picture they all made as Nanny Allen, and Gilman, and 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville joined them; and Hallet detached 
 himself from the group and came to her garden seat, 
 where he stood with folded arms looking down on her 
 judicially and quizzically. She smiled back at him with 
 a certain comradeship and confidence. 
 
 "May I hope that you have been thinking?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She nodded her head, still smiling, and Sargent, 
 watching them, lost track of the discourse of Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville for a moment, and realized that Hallet 
 was very much in earnest as he leaned forward eagerly 
 for the next question. 
 
 "Is it yes* or no ?" 
 
 " I shall not touch his money," said Monica Wayne, 
 softly, " but I have almost decided it will be yes ! " 
 
 " Monica ! " and Hallet s hand closed over hers for 
 a moment "I should say Mrs. Wayne I am 
 delighted. That is fine." 
 
 Then Mrs. Smythe-Orville joined them, and Gilman 
 was interested in the account of the yacht trip by which 
 Sargent had come into the cove after making the circle 
 of Squaw River. 
 
 " It s a risky trip except when the tide is just right," 
 he stated, warningly. " One has to have the right pilot 
 
142 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 for that sort of pleasuring. I Ve got a dozen good 
 nautical notes, peculiar ones, from just one circle of the 
 island. Did you miss Nell ? " 
 
 " I always miss Nell, 1 returned Sargent, lightly, 
 glancing about 
 
 "She went to meet you with the machine also 
 Tony." 
 
 "Tony?" and Sargent s brows went up in quiet 
 amusement. Hamilton Dacy nodded glumly. He was 
 held to blame for Tony s presence, and had his own 
 troubles. 
 
 Sargent turned directly to Tony s quiet little sister, 
 and singled her out for special attention as they crossed 
 the terrace to greet Mrs. Dacy. 
 
 "So that is our new celebrity," cooed Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville, scanning his tall figure through a lorgnette. 
 " Mrs. Wayne, are you duly impressed by your new 
 cousin? His last book has made quite a furore for 
 such a little thing. It really has less than two hundred 
 pages." 
 
 Monica Wayne stared at her wonderingly. 
 "Cousin?" she repeated, with a perplexed frown. 
 
 "Oh, am I wrong? I understood you were Nell s 
 cousin by marriage." Mrs. Wayne nodded assent to 
 this, but said nothing. "Then," continued Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville, "when she marries Mr. Sargent, he 
 also will be a cousin by marriage." 
 
 "Nell!" and there was no mistaking the sharp 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 143 
 
 surprise in her tone. "You mean that Nell Mitford 
 is to marry McLane Sargent?" 
 
 "Haven t you heard?" asked Hallet. "But of 
 course not, it is so recent, and no one knew where to 
 write you." 
 
 "But I thought I was certain that Tony " 
 
 " Oh, they quarreled, for the ninety-ninth time, and 
 quit the engagement. That is an old story now and 
 you didn t know?" 
 
 Monica Wayne laughed, and drew the lace scarf 
 about her shoulders and arose. 
 
 "Oh, these people!" she said, in smiling irony, 
 "they are so constantly in love and constant to no 
 
 one." 
 
 As she crossed the veranda steps a cry from Lulu 
 halted her, and she saw the girl run to the window 
 and lift something tiny from the grass. 
 
 "Lulu!" expostulated Mrs. Smythe-Orville, "you 
 are so excitable." 
 
 "Oh, oh!" cried the girl, in real distress, "it is a 
 dear little bird. I saw it fly straight against the win 
 dow and fall dead! " 
 
 " The windows beyond made it fancy all was open 
 garden," volunteered Oilman. 
 
 "Yes," agreed Nanny, "it could not see the glass." 
 
 "But the glass killed it!" sobbed Lulu, heart 
 broken over the little tragedy. 
 
 "No, dear, it is only stunned," said Mrs. Wayne, 
 
144 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 reassuringly, as she comforted the girl, and noted the 
 fluttering of the little stray, "and I fear its wing is 
 broken." 
 
 "Oh," breathed Lulu, hopefully, "what can we do 
 for it?" 
 
 "You can let it go," stated Mrs. Smythe-Orville, 
 impatiently. 
 
 "It would certainly die if let go now," said Mrs. 
 Wayne, holding the little fluttering stranger against 
 her breast, "but we may find a cage somewhere about 
 the place, and you could try keeping it until the wing 
 is well." 
 
 Lulu beamed hopefully at the plan, but Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville shrugged her shoulders doubtfully. 
 
 " It never can fly so well again ! " she remarked, 
 with an air of finality, but Monica Wayne smiled a 
 trifle wistfully, as she felt Lulu s hand squeezing her 
 arm in joy at finding a practical champion for her 
 little cripple. 
 
 " It never can fly so high again," she conceded, "but 
 it may gain a new note for its song, and it may 
 teach its sister birds to avoid treacherous transparent 
 walls." 
 
 "I wonder," said Sargent, doubtfully, "if its 
 enlarged experience will ever make amends for its 
 crippled wing?" 
 
 Monica Wayne regarded him silently for a moment, 
 and again her direct gaze gave him a queer little shock 
 of familiarity, as if in some life of far away he had 
 
The broken wing 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 145 
 
 known her very well. He could not flatter himself 
 that she had any such impression of him. Her direct, 
 unsmiling gaze was not gracious; it had a questioning, 
 measuring quality, and left him tingling under a new 
 sensation. 
 
 Gilman was busy making notes in one of his sev 
 eral pretty little books, and the others were so amused 
 at him that they did not even see that long look 
 between those two ere she turned away, leaving him 
 with the feeling that he had been weighed and found 
 wanting. 
 
 Elinor and Tony whirled up in the machine just 
 then, and he drew a deep breath as he went to greet 
 his fiancee, and felt grateful for her frank, outspoken 
 comradeship. He told himself it was a good, healthy 
 atmosphere for a man to live in. There was nothing 
 about Nell uncannily suggestive of unseen bonds or 
 former knowledge or former lives which was it? 
 And Nell s voice gave one no strange, deep thrills as 
 of music heard through some long forgotten instru 
 ment. 
 
 He wondered why no one had told him all these 
 unexpected things about Mrs. Wayne. He had heard 
 of her, of course. The family had all expressed their 
 ideas of her and her work and her attitude under 
 various influences, yet he told himself that none of 
 them had ever given him an idea of the real woman. 
 It was puzzling. His host and party were all of the 
 usual type, possible to duplicate in seventy-five out of 
 
146 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 every hundred cottages along the shore. It was merely 
 a matter of income as to the lives they lived. 
 
 But where could one duplicate Monica Wayne, who 
 walked through the laurel thicket from the Nowhere, 
 and looked out of familiar eyes, faintly smiling, like a 
 dream come true? 
 
 Dreams should stay in the land of dreams and not 
 step out of the mists to keep pace with mortals ! 
 
 He told himself this as he thanked the gods for the 
 normal flesh and blood certainty of Nell, who was too 
 frank and outspoken ever to pique curiosity or suggest 
 mystery. 
 
 He even wondered that the matter-of-fact family 
 accepted so gladly this outside member, who, by their 
 own showing, was not at all frank as to her life or 
 movements. Apparently she led a man s life instead 
 of a woman s; she was cordial if it pleased her, but 
 she very evidently needed none of her husband s fam 
 ily, was dependent upon none, and accountable to none; 
 for which reason, as he could perceive, they were all 
 more or less at her feet. Nell so openly adored her 
 that he could see ahead the endless days when he 
 would be expected to admire her; and he resented 
 already the fact that she was probably too self-centered 
 to praise, as others did, the real art value of those 
 drawings in the little book. 
 
 Through the dinner he had opportunity to observe 
 her at the other end of the table, where she bantered 
 Gilman concerning his notes made along the poverty- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 147 
 
 stricken Atlantic coast the last possible place in 
 the world to find romance. 
 
 "The land is too cold, too sterile here, to feed an 
 imagination," she declared. " You come over some of 
 my trails to Mexico. Do your romance of some old 
 cathedral town among the palms, where the serenade 
 is still the custom. Can you fancy songs of serenade 
 either here or in Manhattan at any stage of its evo 
 lution? The thing is beyond imagination." 
 
 " I have my own doubts as to romance even in 
 Mexico," declared Hamilton Dacy, " else how did you 
 escape?" 
 
 "That s true, Monica," agreed Nell. "We won t 
 allow you to slander our land of the fragrant cod 
 without protest. If there was a spark of romance 
 down there, some strenuous bandit would have kid 
 napped you, and you would be hearing your serenades 
 behind barred windows." 
 
 "You trust me, and come to Mexico," said Mrs. 
 Wayne, addressing Gilman. "You will find joy of 
 life, and tragedy of life, side by side where the trail 
 of the Anglo-Saxon has not spoiled it. There are still 
 some corners where the old pagan life exists. Some 
 day I am going back to it ! " 
 
 "Pagan?" repeated Mrs. Dacy, incredulously. 
 "After all the money spent for missionary work?" 
 
 " Delightfully pagan ! " agreed Mrs. Wayne. 
 "They do not discard the gods of their ancestors even 
 though they do, out of policy, accept the newer com- 
 
148 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 mercial religions of the various missions. The Mor 
 mons are about the most progressive of the latter 
 in the practical things of life, but they are usually of 
 northern peoples, and carry no glad joy of life with 
 them. They always made me think of the Puritans." 
 
 " Monica ! " 
 
 1 They did, Aunt Dacy. They are so self-righteous 
 they make one savage. As a child I always preferred 
 playing with the little Indians. We would gather flow 
 ers for the hidden shrine of their house god, and go 
 to mass afterward, and hear the padre give thanks that 
 the Indian false gods were forgotten! Even a child 
 sees those colorful contrasts down there it makes 
 the life wider more worth while. You come down 
 with your notebooks." 
 
 "I am a weak young thing, and easily tempted," 
 confessed Gilman. " If you would find for me some 
 where an artist to beat the illustrations in Sargent s 
 4 Woman of the Twilight 1 I will start tomorrow and 
 do a * Woman of the High-Noon/ and put him in the 
 shade." The others laughed, and Sargent advised him 
 to leave nothing vague or mystifying in the story. An 
 author who did not spell out every fact clearly left a 
 gate open for queries, and nice, lady-like notes, from 
 nice, idle folks, who meant to help genius, but really 
 only brought added trouble to the morning mail. 
 
 " Oh, I know that," stated Gilman. " I used to be 
 loved for myself alone, now I am sought for because 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 149 
 
 I am a friend of Sargent s; and the things the dear 
 girls want to know about him are beyond words ! " 
 
 "Tell us, Gillie," begged Miss Mitford. "I want 
 to know a lot of things myself, and I don t dare ask. 
 How do the other girls go about it?" 
 
 Whereupon Gilman made promises to divulge 
 secrets on the morrow if she would journey with him 
 in the car across the moorland and afar from the 
 ears of men. 
 
 He further told her that if she was very, very good, 
 she could ride with him as he carried Mrs. Wayne 
 home in the moonlight. 
 
 "I don t think I want to be carried," said Mrs. 
 Wayne. " I can t see reason in getting out a machine 
 for that short distance, but I shall be pleased to have 
 you walk with me." 
 
 " You are the law, Madame Monica ; but how would 
 you feel if I snubbed your half rater like that if you 
 asked to give me a sail?" 
 
 "Oh, that s different! A boat is an actual neces 
 sity to cross the water at any point; but if I was in 
 bathing dress, and needed to go the water distance 
 from here to the bungalow, I d ask you to swim with 
 
 me." 
 
 " Declined with thanks, kind lady," he said, 
 promptly. " No swimming bouts for me in that water, 
 let Tony do it." 
 
 " Never again ! I owe my precious life to the sons 
 
150 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 of the sea who picked me off the rocks the last time 
 I went under," said Tony. 
 
 "There," said Mr. Dacy, lifting a warning finger to 
 Monica Wayne. "Now perhaps you will listen to 
 me and give up that crazy sailing alone out here. It is 
 not safe anything is likely to happen you." 
 
 "Nothing has," she said, reassuringly, "and you 
 are always here to wade out and lead me back." 
 
 As Hamilton Dacy had a horror of small boats and 
 could not swim a stroke, the others laughed at the 
 suggestion, and as they filed out on the veranda to 
 watch the moon rise, he suggested that he call on her 
 at the bungalow, and talk over the terms and legal 
 settlements of which Hallet had spoken to her. 
 
 She looked at him a moment as if she had forgot 
 ten the subject, and then smiled a trifle wearily. 
 
 " Certainly, come over, Uncle Dacy," she said, 
 kindly, "though I can t promise what I shall discuss 
 with you; certainly not settlements but come over." 
 
 Out on the lawn where the men were smoking, 
 Tony sauntered over to Sargent, who was pacing alone 
 by the pergola, and asked for a light for his cigar; 
 receiving it, he fell into step until they reached the 
 pergola where, he halted squarely. 
 
 "Surprised to find me here, Sargent?" he asked. 
 
 "Not at all," replied Sargent, frankly; "glad to 
 see you." 
 
 "I m not so civil," confessed Tony. "I ve been 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 151 
 
 wondering why you selected this particular corner of 
 the earth." 
 
 "Shall I get off?" 
 
 " It wouldn t do a bit of good," said Tony, shaking 
 his head. " She d fancy you a martyr, and then she 
 would be in love with you I mean Nell." 
 
 "Oh, I see," and Sargent s amusement was ex 
 pressed in his tone. "Well, have you a grudge to 
 settle?" 
 
 "Not the slightest," said Tony, cheerfully, "but 
 it s this way: Miss Mitford promised to marry us 
 both, promised me first; and you see the result 
 changed her mind 1 I m only waiting round to see if 
 she won t change it again. I don t mean to take any 
 unfair advantage, you know, only to stay in the race 
 until I hear her wedding march. Understand?" 
 
 "Perfectly," said Sargent, smiling at the situation, 
 "but if she objects, I may have to ask you to with 
 draw." 
 
 "She won t object," returned Tony, easily, "she 
 has always been accustomed to extra personal attend 
 ants, and I might as well be one of them." 
 
 "In that case we d better not both seem to neglect 
 her at the same time," suggested Sargent, " else she 
 might throw us over for Gilman or Hallet let s go 
 back." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 A LITTLE later the moon came up out of the 
 sea while the afterglow of the sun yet touched the 
 western sky. Elinor Mitford declared it was selfish 
 of Gillie, or any one man, to plan moonlight walks 
 alone with Monica. She elected herself as chaperone 
 and stated that there were others who craved moon 
 light walks by the sad sea waves. 
 
 To Sargent she whispered that he must get ac 
 quainted with her relatives, and had better begin with 
 Monica. Then after pitching pennies, and drawing 
 straws, to arrange the party, Oilman with Nanny and 
 Tony Allen, remained with Mrs. Dacy, while the rest 
 strolled out along the shore road, and Oilman, watch 
 ing Mrs. Smythe-Orville gather up her fluffy draperies, 
 drew Lulu aside and told her confidentially to listen 
 for the car in about an hour. 
 
 The flowering shrubs of the wild growths hedged 
 the road like a miniature jungle of bayberry, sumac, 
 grape and wild sweet pea; the fragrance of them in 
 the night met the salt air of the sea, and Sargent 
 walked beside Monica Wayne and was content to 
 walk in silence rather than utter words. Hamilton 
 Dacy walked at her other hand, and occasionally tried 
 to make conversation without succeeding very well. 
 
 152 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 He decided that Monica was tired, and they should 
 have used the car. 
 
 The moon was touched ever so lightly by fleecy cur 
 tains of drifting white. Jupiter shone royally as he 
 moved across the body of Scorpia, and Venus trembled 
 far out on the edge of the world, and left a tiny dot 
 of light on an arm of the sea. 
 
 Earth and sky was a harmony exquisite and tender 
 with promise, while the waves thundering into the 
 cove below them, smashing against the bulwark of 
 titanic boulders, was a threat against the fragility of 
 the mere human idlers strolling along the brink of the 
 roaring deep. 
 
 "That sea is tigerish at high tide," declared Mr. 
 Dacy. " It is one of the reasons, Monica, I wish your 
 place was a little nearer our cottage, then we could 
 keep an eye on you in bad weather." 
 
 " But no thoughtful farmer-fisherman took the 
 trouble, some fifty years ago, to plant trees in the 
 right spot nearer your cottage," remarked Mrs. 
 Wayne. "I am thankful to him every summer day. 
 I could not see myself living on a treeless shore." 
 
 Whereupon Mr. Dacy discoursed on the way in 
 which she had taken an old rambling farmhouse and 
 remodeled it, by the aid of much concrete, into a fair 
 copy of an old Spanish-California dwelling. The work 
 was barely two years old, and looked forty because of 
 the old vines and trees. 
 
 "The fact is, Monica, if you ever wanted to put 
 
154 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 that place on the market, your ancient mariner would 
 need to use a lawn mower and pruning shears, it looks 
 almost forlorn. You would have to spruce up." 
 
 "Thanks, Uncle Dacy, but I can t imagine it 
 spruced up. I have worked too hard to keep it looking 
 as if no one lived on it; your spruced up places lack 
 atmosphere." 
 
 " Atmosphere ! with all that booming at your door ? " 
 and he pointed an accusing finger towards the restless 
 sea. Monica Wayne laughed and caught his hand. 
 
 "Don t call it that in such a tone, Uncle Dacy; 
 it is my lullaby, it is just near enough for the sound 
 of the waves to rock me to sleep at night, and reminds 
 me of" 
 
 She ceased speaking, and Sargent could not tell 
 whether it was to check expression of her remem 
 brances or to listen to the group ahead of them; some 
 one was singing, and Mrs. Wayne held up her hand 
 for silence, and halted to listen. 
 
 It was Elinor Mitford, whose comforting gift was 
 a rather well-trained soprano voice, and across the 
 moonlight night it came to them with added sweet 
 ness, accompanied as it was by the deep, constant 
 undertone of the sea 
 
 In my garden of sleep where the poppies are spread, 
 
 I wait for the living alone with the dead 
 
 For a tower in ruins stands guard o er the deep 
 
 At whose feet are green graves of dear women asleep. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 155 
 
 "Where a tower in ruins keeps guard o er the 
 deep," repeated Sargent. " I never chanced to hear 
 Nell sing that before, and I fancy there is only one 
 place in the United States to which all of that song 
 could apply sea-cliff, poppies, and the tower where 
 the graves are." 
 
 "Of course, it s on the other coast?" said Mr. 
 Dacy, with a touch of irony. 
 
 "Indeed it is," affirmed Sargent; "strange how one 
 forgets a place for a long time, or thinks he does, and 
 all at once it begins to grow on him again, and pull 
 him back." 
 
 "Well, if you did go back you would probably 
 write now a very different sort of story of that poppy 
 farm place than the one you wrote from your first 
 impression." 
 
 "Why do you say that?" 
 
 "You would not see it quite the same way differ 
 ence in years and experience. Go back in five years and 
 see if I m not right." 
 
 Sargent stared at him a moment, and recalled the 
 words of the old man under the moorish arches. 
 
 "I didn t suppose you had even read the story," 
 he observed. 
 
 "Had to, too many curious folk asking questions 
 about it. And, say, I Ve just solved the problem of 
 
 its success." 
 
 "Thanks," observed Sargent, "perhaps you ll en 
 lighten me." 
 
156 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "It s the youth of it, the daring, critical youth 
 which condones nothing, and makes no compromise. 
 Maturity knows compromises are a necessity of life, 
 but that thing is a record of your impressions or emo 
 tions when you were ages younger than you are now." 
 
 " Not so many ages ! " 
 
 " Oh, I don t mean actual years, but young in your 
 sympathies, and intolerant of compromises. I refer 
 especially to your drawing of that man; it seems a true 
 picture, but you were so intolerant that it is difficult 
 to see how a woman could have made sacrifices for 
 him. He might have had some likable traits, but you 
 could not concede that too much youth and too much 
 sympathy for the woman. People seem to like that 
 combination if served with the right sauce. But you 
 go back in five years ! " 
 
 Did they love as I love when they lived by the sea? 
 Did they wait as I wait for the days that may be? 
 O Life of my life! on the cliff by the sea. 
 
 The voice of the girl singing came to them again, 
 and Sargent made no reply to the unexpected criticism 
 of Dacy. He was listening to the song and looking 
 at the girl beside him. She had taken no apparent in 
 terest in the discussion, but had moved a little apart, 
 and was standing on a great boulder at the edge of 
 the cliff looking down at the surf dashing into white 
 foam in the moonlight. She was so slender, so girlish 
 in form, that she suggested a gray bird poised above 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 157 
 
 the crashing sea. Her hands were clasped behind 
 her, and her head was turned away from him, but he 
 could see she was listening to the voice 
 
 Brief days of desire and long dreams of delight, 
 They are mine when my poppy land cometh in sight, 
 
 heart of my heart ! where the poppies are born 
 
 1 am waiting for thee in the hush of the corn ! 
 
 "This moonlight is making even Nell sentimental," 
 observed Dacy. " Monica, you give me the creeps the 
 way you get to the very outer edge of that rock. Some 
 day the water will undermine it, and then " 
 
 " I shan t wait that long," she said, smiling at him 
 over her shoulder, "but the sea is wonderful tonight, 
 or else the sky! I never saw it quite this way before. 
 Let us go and get Nell a guitar from the bungalow if 
 she is impelled to bring poppy land to Massachusetts." 
 
 She walked on beside Sargent to where the others 
 were singing on the rocks, and while they did not 
 speak with each other, he felt again her mysteriously 
 familiar closeness. At times he felt she must be con 
 scious of it, else why was her speech so ready for 
 others, and only silence for his portion. 
 
 He felt a hesitation in walking beside her into her 
 own house, a curious hesitation; at the same time that 
 he unconsciously resented the fact that the others ran 
 pell-mell up the broad, shallow steps, as a middle-aged 
 colored woman opened the door, letting the light 
 stream out from a wide hall. 
 
158 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Nell and Hallet were in the lead, followed by Lulu 
 and Joe, and Sargent found himself escorting Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville, who was lamenting the distance they 
 had walked. It really was so much more than she had 
 expected and when one was not exactly rugged. 
 
 And it was thus he crossed the threshold of the 
 house of Monica Wayne. 
 
 " How unusual ! " murmured his charge, as they 
 passed from the hall into a great living room. Then, 
 with a little smile, she added, " If not duly impressed 
 by the fact that the lady is a genius, one might say 
 how peculiar! 
 
 In fact the interior of the house had unexpected 
 character, half Spanish where dividing walls had been 
 replaced by pillars supporting pointed arches, the lines 
 of which were echoed by the windows to the north. 
 They flanked the great open fireplace, reaching to the 
 floor, and through them the wide stretch of water and 
 wild shore could be seen bathed in the mellow light of 
 the moon. 
 
 Candles were lit on the mantel and in sconces of the 
 pillars by the colored woman, greeted cheerily by Nell 
 as Maum Rosa; and the soft light showed that the 
 grayish green plaster of the walls was but a frame 
 for some wonderful color combinations in the Mexican 
 rugs on the floor and couches and the rich Indian brown 
 of pottery and the occasional white and red and gray 
 of scrape or belt of primitive tribes. On the walls 
 were few pictures all of them rather fine sketches in 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 159 
 
 pastel of old Mexican cathedrals, and occasionally an 
 equally fine drawing of some of the sacred shrines of 
 Yucatan. Before one of them Sargent halted in ad 
 miration a great temple in the midst of a tropic 
 wood. Carved serpents guarded the magnificent stair 
 way, and the statue of a god of an ancient people lay 
 broken at the foot of the steps. 
 
 "The others are beautifully done, but this is tragic," 
 he observed. "All modern America has nothing to 
 compare to the architecture of this forgotten people." 
 
 "They are all the work of my father," said Mrs. 
 Wayne, " also this collection of things Mexican was 
 his; only the house was arranged by me for their 
 keeping." 
 
 "It is a fitting shrine," he answered. "One leaves 
 all the prosaic world at the threshold." 
 
 She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment of 
 the compliment, but that was all. He wondered if her 
 cool courtesy was deliberate and personal, or if she 
 was merely shy. He could fancy it being the latter, 
 and regarded her with renewed interest. After all, she 
 was only a schoolgirl, and her position was such that 
 the social world must as yet be a sealed book to her. 
 The many volumes in the bookcases showed her to be 
 a student in other matters than art, but if books and 
 paints were her only companions it would explain much. 
 
 Yet what right had a girl with a face like hers to 
 bury her youth in musty tomes? Her eyes under 
 their straight brows were ever baffling to him and 
 
160 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 her mouth what a fool the man Wayne must have 
 been ! 
 
 Thoughts of this sort are most unprofitable, and see 
 ing Nell regard him quizzically, he left Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville to Dacy, and went over to her. She was tuning 
 an old guitar on which were the red, green and white 
 ribbons of Mexico. 
 
 "You sang beautifully, little girl," he said, ap 
 provingly, and she glanced up at him saucily. 
 
 "Much good it did do me," she retorted, "you 
 
 never came near." 
 
 At his attempted explanation she only laughed and 
 handed him the guitar. 
 
 "Monica has gone to look for some Spanish or 
 Indian music. I am horribly jealous of Fannie Smith, 
 but you can sing to her until I come back. I want to 
 speak to Monica you amuse these children." 
 
 She found Maum Rosa in the kitchen arranging 
 some glasses on a tray, and stopped long enough to 
 sniff the perfume of mint approvingly. 
 
 " Miss Mona gone to her own room a moment, I 
 reckon," volunteered Maum Rosa. "Yes, she found 
 that music stuff for you all. I reckon, Miss Elinor, 
 she s been havin a right vigorous day, an is all tired 
 
 out." 
 
 There was a suggestion in her tone that the guests 
 allow Miss Mona a moment of rest, which Miss Mit- 
 ford mentally agreed was all right for the others 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 161 
 
 but she was simply dying to see Monica alone, and 
 of course Monica would not mind her! 
 
 So she ran up the stairs, and, finding the door ajar, 
 and the light of a candle sending a bar of brightness 
 across the hall, she opened it without knocking and 
 found Monica Wayne standing at the open window 
 looking out at the sea. 
 
 The sheets of music were in her hands clasped behind 
 her, and the sound of the sea coming in the open win 
 dow kept her from hearing the sound of steps until a 
 hand was slipped into hers, when she turned with a 
 startled cry. 
 
 "Nell!" she breathed, and sat down; then added, 
 limply, " I m glad it was you." 
 
 "Thanks, many," said Nell, "but what s the mat 
 ter with you? You re a bundle of nerves. I m dying 
 to talk with you about a thousand things, but of course 
 I couldn t with Fannie Smith along!" 
 
 "No," assented Mrs. Wayne, "of course not. I 
 I found some of the music. It is rather roughly done 
 I took down the notes myself and I am not dis 
 tinguished, you know, in a musical way." 
 
 She spoke lightly, but there was a false note. Nell 
 sensed it, and agreed mentally with Maum Rosa 
 Monica was tired. She would start the party home as 
 soon as might be. 
 
 " I 11 learn the songs, and sing them for you some 
 other time," she said. "What is this an Aztec love 
 
162 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 song ? Really Aztec ? What a pretty title ! * Within 
 My Dreams. " 
 
 And by the candle light she hummed over the air 
 while the other girl sat silent, looking out at the rest 
 less sea. 
 
 Within my dreams thou art with me 
 Though free my life may range afar. 
 Within my dreams my spirits sea 
 Throbs warm beneath one glowing star. 
 Though wide you range the forest through 
 I wake with thee, deep in my heart I rest, 
 When trembles in my ear the turquoise blue 
 I know it is thy heart within my breast ! 
 Within my dreams thou ever art with me, 
 E en waking dreams ! 
 O Love! within my dreams! 
 
 " Say, Monica, if you ever took time to fall in love, 
 you d know that Indian song writer had been there 
 before you," announced Nell, "but of course you 
 never did." 
 
 " No, of course not," assented Monica Wayne 
 again. "Shall we go down now?" 
 
 " But Monica ! You should know I am dying to 
 talk about Lane Sargent, and tell you how it happened. 
 Haven t you any curiosity at all?" 
 
 " I really don t believe I have a great deal, Nell," 
 agreed her hostess, " and you can tell me any time 
 about the man who happens to be the center of the 
 universe just now." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 163 
 
 " Monica, you don t like him ! " and the voice of her 
 visitor was charged with utter disappointment, "and 
 I had counted on you so much so much! " 
 
 " My dear Nell," said Monica Wayne, putting her 
 arms around the girl who had dropped down on the 
 window seat beside her, " if you are in love with the 
 man, as your insight into the psychology of the Aztec 
 love song would suggest, why should you care in the 
 least whether any one else approved of him or not? 
 While you concede I can t take time for those emo 
 tional lapses, I can at least imagine that an affair of 
 love is between two people, and that all the rest of the 
 world is unimportant, and the opinion of the world is 
 not worth even a smile." 
 
 Nell Mitford sat up suddenly and looked at her 
 as she sat, serene and cool, in the mingled light of the 
 candle and the moon. 
 
 "That s all right, Monica," she agreed. "We all 
 have moments when we feel like that, though I can t 
 see how you know it; but the rest of the time we have 
 to remember certain conventions and incomes first, 
 last, and all the time incomes ! Lane Sargent would 
 be a fine catch on his family alone for any heiress, but 
 I don t chance to be an heiress. We ve been chums 
 for ages, but he could not have afforded to propose to 
 me unless he had something besides name, and I could 
 not afford to accept him if he had not an income along 
 with the name ! It s all right for you, Monica, to be 
 superior to the dollars and cents you are a sort of 
 
164 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 free lance in search of art. But the rest of us who are 
 not artists have to fill our lives with other things, and 
 we can t afford to ignore folks and family. I do need 
 to know that people approve it braces one up in 
 in many ways." 
 
 "Does the poor child need bracing up already?" 
 and there was a little mocking note in Monica Wayne s 
 voice. "As you ve been engaged most of your life 
 to some nice boy is this the third or fourth victim? 
 I should imagine you were impervious to the opinion 
 of mere relatives." 
 
 The girl looked at her reproachfully, and pettishly 
 tapped her white shoe on the Indian rug. 
 
 "I did hope for something better from you, 
 Monica," she declared. u The others were just nice 
 boys, that is what makes the difference. Half the time 
 I am so proud of Lane I want to shoot off fire crackers, 
 or wave a flag to celebrate; and the other half I am 
 scared to death to be left alone with him." 
 
 " I should not imagine him so formidable." 
 
 "He s not. He is the dearest, nicest fellow ever, 
 and when we were merely chums, we were thick as 
 thieves ; too jolly for words. I went to him with all my 
 woes, and learned one or two of his. It was fine, 
 simply ideal." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well," repeated the other defiantly, "now that 
 we are engaged I well I come to you to be braced 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 165 
 
 up, and I don t know who he goes to ! I only hope 
 he finds some one more sympathetic." 
 
 Monica Wayne laughed, and drew Nell to her, 
 shaking her as she would a playful kitten. 
 
 u Oh, you people!" she said, derisively. "You are 
 all such spoiled children, surfeited with sweets. I can 
 didly think that your present woes are limited to the 
 fear that the latest man may call a halt on your flirta 
 tions. You can t rule him as you did Tony." 
 
 "I said you weren t sympathetic," retorted Nell, 
 accusingly, a but I did count a lot on you and Lane 
 taking to each other, and you don t at all! " 
 
 " What an idea !" 
 
 "Can t I see? You look over him, and across 
 him, every place but at him. And you know, he is n t 
 used to that; I have seen him a dozen times this eve 
 ning staring at you puzzled beyond words and 
 you two could have so many interests in common if 
 you would only be nice." 
 
 " My dear, I fear that niceness is not my strong 
 point," said Monica Wayne, a trifle wearily, "and I 
 have several things to do besides trying to make a 
 good impression on your latest sweetheart." 
 
 "You wouldn t have to try," asserted Nell, stoutly. 
 "All you need do is be your own dear, natural self, 
 as you were last summer with Tony, who adores you." 
 
 "Does he, indeed?" queried Mrs. Wayne, smiling. 
 " Since he is his own man again, I presume I dare 
 confess that his affection is most ardently returned?" 
 
1 66 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Elinor Mitford got up abruptly, straightened her 
 skirt, and adjusted the bandeau of blue ribbon about 
 her fluffy blonde hair. 
 
 " Monica, you are a devil when you are not a dear," 
 she observed. 
 
 Monica Wayne laughed outright. 
 
 " Which, being interpreted, means that you want 
 both those lovely creatures, but want me to take either 
 one of them off your hands occasionally, while you 
 flirt with the other ! I love you dearly, Nell, but I m 
 too busy to look after your men folks. I can t half 
 look after my own." 
 
 "Yours!" echoed the girl, scornfully. "You d 
 seem more human if you did look after some of them, 
 and it might cultivate your sympathies." 
 
 "With true love?" asked the other, mockingly 
 "the wonderful true love of your summer circus set! 
 Nell, you all seem to me pretenders, playing the game 
 for pastime or to fit in some social scheme. Not red 
 blood enough in the whole group to get up a revolution 
 against convention, unless we except those two children 
 out there," she added, as they saw Lulu and Joe run 
 down the walk in the moonlight. 
 
 " Well, I like that," observed Nell. " Of all women, 
 for you to talk true love and red blood, and emo 
 tionalism in marriage you!" 
 
 " I was younger than Lulu, I did not know," said 
 Monica Wayne, simply; "also," she added, "I had 
 little choice. It may seem odd to you, but I did not 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 167 
 
 know a single American woman to whom I could speak. 
 I had only known men, and some Mexican and Indian 
 
 women." 
 
 "What a cat I am!" said Nell, remorsefully; "and 
 what an awful situation! You know, Monica, you 
 never have told any of us even that much before." 
 
 " Have n t I ? Perhaps there seemed no reason why 
 I should. No, it did not seem to me awful. I am as 
 much a fatalist as an Indian. It is all a part of the 
 training for some game, and we never know what the 
 game may be. Only the gods see the end of the race ! " 
 
 "O you pagan!" and the girl s arm slipped about 
 her affectionately. " Come on down, or the rest will 
 hate me for keeping you away. I shall immediately 
 take Lane out to the most romantic corner I can find 
 in this nookery of yours, and sing that Aztec love song 
 to him just to let you see we can be romantic." 
 
 "Yes, if you try hard enough," said Monica 
 Wayne, as they went down the stairs together. 
 
 Maum Rosa came in with a tray of tinkling glasses, 
 but McLane Sargent was not there either to accept 
 this offering or listen to Nell s song. He had wan 
 dered out along the cliffs or under the old trees; and 
 Nell, with a smiling, defiant glance at Mrs. Wayne, 
 took his glass and the Aztec song and started in search 
 of him. She looked around for the guitar, but Lulu 
 had confiscated that, and the soft clear notes of a fan 
 dango came to them occasionally above the subdued 
 roar of the breakers. The one musical love of Joe 
 
1 68 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 was a banjo for choice or a guitar for second place. 
 
 "It sounds rather pretty, doesn t it?" asked Mrs. 
 Wayne of Hallet, as they crossed to the door to listen, 
 and then stepped outside. But Mrs. Smythe-Orville 
 was plainly annoyed each time the high sweet notes 
 reached her where she sat by the window with Mr. 
 Dacy, sipping the refreshing liquid from the slender 
 mint crowned glass. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Dacy," she said at last, " I shall have 
 to ask your assistance while here in regard to Lulu. 
 She is incorrigible when your nephew is around, just 
 a wild tomboy. On the other side I must say she was 
 a trifle more subdued, it is so necessary in order to 
 have a girl advantageously settled in life." 
 
 "Joe will not interfere with your matrimonial 
 plans," said Mr. Dacy, reassuringly. "He has no 
 money of his own, and little interest in anything except 
 fishing tackle." 
 
 " But the girl has a perfect mania for ineligibles," 
 sighed her stepmother, " and her manner is growing 
 more unrestrained each day since our return to Amer 
 ica so lacking in repose!" 
 
 " Oh, she has plenty of time to acquire repose," sug 
 gested Mr. Dacy, easily, "and don t you really feel 
 that sixteen is rather young to consider marriage for 
 Lulu?" 
 
 " Not at all." The decision of the reply noted that 
 the mint-flavored refreshment brought by Maum 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 169 
 
 Rosa had quite aroused Mrs. Smythe-Orville from her 
 customary languor. "I was married, the first time, 
 at sixteen. Girls become entirely too independent if 
 allowed to range much longer." 
 
 "But her education " 
 
 "A resident governess or social secretary can teach 
 a woman all a wife need know in order to manage an 
 establishment. I don t in the least approve of col 
 leges for girls teaches them to know more than their 
 husbands! No," she added, emptying the glass of 
 which he relieved her, "I will allow no sentimental 
 nonsense to upset my plans for Lulu. She has a won 
 derful opportunity, and I shall see that she accepts it. 
 The man is perfectly infatuated with her ingenuous 
 ness. But " (and she sighed regretfully) "he made 
 a mistaken marriage, and a divorce is being arranged. 
 As soon as it is settled we leave for the other side." 
 
 George Hallet, standing in the doorway, looking out 
 on the moonlit sea with Monica, and listening to the 
 strains of the guitar, could not but hear also bits of 
 the conversation within, and he grew alert, a big 
 wrinkle between his brows. Monica Wayne, finding 
 some slight remark of hers unheeded, glanced at him, 
 and realized that he had forgotten her and was listen 
 ing actually listening to the words of Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville. 
 
 Amused, she was about to reenter, when he put his 
 hand on her arm with a slight gesture of detention, 
 
170 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 and, surprised, she stood silent in the doorway as 
 Mr. Dacy asked with an evident desire to appear inter 
 ested in the much-desired son-in-law. 
 
 "And what does Lulu say to this pearl of a hus 
 band you have selected for her?" 
 
 " Oh, part of the time she was flattered by his atten 
 tions and no wonder, his place is a palace! and 
 at other times pretended she did not like him; all 
 romantic nonsense, of course, or else a clever trick to 
 interest him, and he certainly was quite infatuated with 
 her. Not like him ! " and her tone was skeptic to a 
 degree. " Why, the man has all kinds of money, and 
 as her guardian I shall see that she acts sensibly, and 
 marries him." 
 
 Monica Wayne pushed aside the detaining hand of 
 Hallet and stepped past him into the room as Nell and 
 Sargent came up the path. They had halted in the 
 shadow for an instant regarding the man and woman 
 standing so close, with hands touching. It looked quite 
 sentimental and made them each recall Hallet s im 
 pressive manner to her on the lawn and in the cot 
 tage. Could it be that Hallet, good, safe, steady- 
 going Hallet, had really a chance? 
 
 Nell looked up, smiling into Sargent s face, hoping 
 for comprehension and sympathy; but he did not seem 
 in the least interested in the possible love affair which 
 she hoped might become a fact. His eyes were on 
 Hallet, a cool, measuring gaze, as Monica Wayne 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 171 
 
 brushed past him and went direct to Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville. 
 
 " I heard your words," she said, eagerly, earnestly. 
 "I pardon me for speaking but I do not think 
 you can realize quite what it means to marry little 
 Lulu to a man for whom she has no real liking; she 
 is such a child, and childhood is so wonderful, let her 
 keep it ! It is worth more than the money or the palace 
 of any man, and it can never be bought back." 
 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville regarded her with satirical, 
 lifted brows. 
 
 "The idea is very pretty, Mrs. Wayne," she con 
 ceded, sweetly, "but you artists are not always prac 
 tical. Society has to be, and someone has to see that 
 girls marry the right men." 
 
 "But Lulu is such a child" 
 
 "And a very difficult one to manage," added the 
 other. "The sooner she is safely married the better, 
 and her position as the lady of Castlemar will be so " 
 
 Monica Wayne interrupted her with a sharp cry. 
 She stood suddenly very erect, and all the tones of per 
 suasion or conciliation were gone from her voice. 
 
 " Castlemar! " she repeated, and Nell gasped at the 
 force of the utterance, while Mr. Dacy got to his feet 
 bewildered. "You mean to marry little Lulu to the 
 man who has bought the estate of Castlemar on the 
 Italian coast?" 
 
 "Well, what of it?" and Mrs. Smythe-Orville re- 
 
172 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 garded her hostess with startled and somewhat resent 
 ful eyes. 
 
 But Monica Wayne made no reply to her. She 
 flung out accusing hands to the two men in the room. 
 
 " Uncle Dacy, did you know of this? " Dacy shook 
 his head in protest, but she scarcely heeded it, as she 
 turned to the younger partner. " Mr. Hallet, do you 
 hear? You want me to divorce that man so he may 
 ruin the life of a child I love, the daughter of a man 
 who loved me ! Well, I will tell you what I will do, I 
 will divorce your master of Castlemar on one condi 
 tion and one only that he marries the woman with 
 whom he left America ! " 
 
 Mr. Dacy looked as bewildered as Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville, who demanded sharply: 
 
 "Am I to understand that the woman in Europe 
 was not his wife?" 
 
 Again her question was to Mrs. Wayne, who made 
 no reply. 
 
 "A marriage of the left hand," said Hallet, sig 
 nificantly, and the questioner threw up her hands with 
 an exclamation of disgust. 
 
 "Oh, the horrid, brazen creature!" 
 
 " But you would not shrink from the man" said 
 Mrs. Wayne, turning to her with a strange smile. " I 
 think most people know that she was not a bad 
 woman. She gave up her world, her family, every 
 thing, for her devotion to that man. I pity her in 
 finitely!" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 173 
 
 "Pity I" gasped the astounded lady whose palace 
 of dreams was crumbling about her at every sentence, 
 "pity her, you, the woman who has the legal right to 
 the position she held the wealth the luxury! " and 
 her eyes wandered vaguely over the simply furnished 
 room, and its simply gowned mistress. You pity 
 her oh and her diamonds !" 
 
 " She has more right to them than I," said Monica 
 Wayne, indifferently. 
 
 "Monica!" said Mr. Dacy, severely. 
 
 "You are his wife!" reminded Hallet, but Monica 
 looked from one to the other with the same strange 
 little smile. 
 
 " But she was the woman who loved him," she said, 
 quietly, "and that should make a difference, Uncle 
 Dacy." 
 
 The sweet notes of the guitar sounded above the 
 murmur of the sea, and far down the road could be 
 seen the light of Oilman s car as he sped through the 
 moonlight. 
 
 And Elinor Mitford, clutching Sargent s arm in 
 nervous excitement, drew him in silence from the por 
 tal into the dusk of the shadowy trees. 
 
 " Now you know, Monica ! " she whispered. " Do 
 you wonder that I love her?" 
 
 But he evidently had no opinion on the subject, 
 for he did not reply. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 >T^HE next day Mrs. Smythe-Orville was confined 
 * to her room, ill from nervous shock, and Mrs. 
 Dacy realized that all her work for secrecy as to the 
 Glyndon Waynes was love s labor lost; in one short 
 hour Monica had made the most and the worst of it. 
 
 Sargent surprised his fiancee by the suggestion that 
 they get married at once and spend the summer in 
 Europe. Mrs. Dacy was quite convinced that he 
 feared a further family scandal (what might not one 
 expect from a woman who openly denounced a hus 
 band as Monica had done?), and that he meant to get 
 Nell safely out of it before there were further com 
 plications. She sincerely hoped her niece would be 
 appreciative of the chivalry in the thought. 
 
 But that young lady declared that she liked nice 
 long engagements, also there was the question of a 
 trousseau. To be married without all the fuss and 
 furbelows did not meet with her approval, why they 
 had scarcely gotten used to the engagement yet ! 
 
 Also she had decided she wanted a portrait of Lane 
 and one of herself painted by Monica before the wed 
 ding. Altogether it was out of the question to rush 
 affairs of that sort 
 
 \Vhereupon Sargent decided that if he was not to 
 
 174 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 175 
 
 get married, he had better get back to work, which he 
 promptly did, going back to New York in the midst 
 of the summer season, to the dismay and disgust of 
 Miss Mitford. 
 
 She went over to the bungalow for sympathy, but 
 was laughed at. 
 
 "You only wanted a celebrity to show off for the 
 summer, Nell," decided Monica; "but if a man lives 
 up to a reputation such as Mr. Sargent enjoys, he 
 can t do it by carrying your parasol. Of course the 
 man has to keep up his work." 
 
 "Of course you would see it that way," said the 
 aggrieved and lonely one, "but it s spoiling our sum 
 mer. Aunt Martha is sulky, and " 
 
 "With me, I suppose!" 
 
 "Well, you certainly did help. She and Fannie have 
 agreed as to the immorality of your plans for your 
 husband. They have grown quite chummy over the 
 subject." 
 
 Monica Wayne laughed as she bent over a great 
 work table where she was unrolling sheets of paper 
 and arranging for some preliminary drawings. 
 
 "I can fancy they would," she observed. "Their 
 standards are about the same, though type varies in 
 the outer shell." 
 
 "Well, you d better brace up for a bit of trouble 
 out of it any way." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Can t you see that Aunt Martha is no longer in 
 
176 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 doubt as to the whereabouts of her beloved nephew? 
 Fannie Smith has of course told her oceans of things, 
 and Aunt Martha feels that it is her Christian duty 
 to write Glyn." 
 
 "Um yes Christian duty! Have you any idea 
 of what the lady s special Providence suggests she 
 should suggest to the wandering lamb of the family 
 fold?" 
 
 "You won t like it," said the girl, warningly. 
 
 "That is not so unlikely either, if those two ladies 
 have charge of affairs," conceded Monica, "but even 
 so" 
 
 "Oh, I don t know that Fannie has any idea of 
 Aunt Martha s plans, but I know she has a plan. You 
 remember the snapshot Tony took of you last summer 
 sailing your own boat? You wore that blue suit with 
 the white Tam-o -Shanter and looked like a dream 
 in it!" 
 
 " Thanks; but what has that to do with Aunt Dacy s 
 plan?" 
 
 "Well, you know Tony made some dandy prints 
 of it has one framed in his boat and he couldn t 
 well afford to refuse a copy to Aunt Martha, could 
 he?" 
 
 "N-no, I suppose not," agreed Monica, slowly, as 
 she gave special and thoughtful attention to fastening 
 a sheet of paper on a drawing board. 
 
 "And he could not guess that she wanted it to slip 
 in a letter sent to Glyndon Wayne." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 177 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " Heavens ! Monica, don t glare at me like that, I 
 am not the blessed peace maker. I d just as soon 
 be blest some other way. Also she sent the photo 
 Tony took of you and me together a good likeness." 
 
 Monica Wayne walked to the window and stood 
 with her back to Nell. She stood there so long, staring 
 seaward, that her visitor grew nervous, then fidgety, 
 then apologetic. 
 
 " Don t cut the whole family on that account, Mon 
 ica," she said at last. " I suppose she thought that if 
 he could be interested in that gawky girl " 
 
 " Lulu is not gawky, Nell. She is a dear, winsome 
 child, and is, I suppose, just the type to interest a 
 man who has tired of everything else." 
 
 "Well she couldn t hold a candle to you, Monica, 
 and I suppose Aunt Martha thought " 
 
 "That is where you are mistaken again," inter 
 rupted Monica; "at Lulu s age I was not one-half so 
 interesting as she. I was a lean, tanned little imp with 
 sunburnt hair, and an ugly temper. That is the only 
 way Glyndon Wayne remembers me. If he had not 
 owed a a relative of mine a lot of money, he would 
 never have offered to pay the debt by marrying me; 
 and if I had owned an American relative to whom I 
 could go, I would not have spoiled his life by marrying 
 him." 
 
 "Spoiled his life?" and Nell s tone was skeptical. 
 
 "Yes," assented Monica, wearily. "He is the one 
 
178 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 who has needed freedom most. If I could trust him 
 to marry the right woman I would give it to him. 
 That is where his duty lies. But so long as he won t 
 see it " and she shook her head and resumed her 
 work at the table. 
 
 Nell sat looking at her, trying to picture the lean, 
 sunburnt imp in the woman whose every curve was of 
 grace, whose skin was of velvet softness, whose eyes 
 were deep wells of mystery under lashes and brows of 
 black, though the brown hair held glints of sunshine 
 as it circled her head in a braided crown. Nell de 
 cided that she affected that style of dressing her hair 
 in order to look older than she was which was a 
 great mistake. That still dignity of hers added to the 
 illusion; and under it all was the heart of a girl a 
 girl so charming that it accounted for her choice of a 
 home near the people who offered her hospitality, who 
 would, in a way, be a social protection. 
 
 " I made a mistake in coming here to live," she said, 
 as she lifted her head and looked around the great 
 room. " It was Uncle Dacy who won me. He said I 
 would be sheltered here, and I, even then I had begun 
 to know that a girl needs to feel there is shelter some 
 where." 
 
 " But, Monica, you are here such a little time, in 
 the summer, and you are such a bird of flight at other 
 times, that you can always go if well, if the very 
 worst should happen, and you were annoyed here." 
 
 "I don t think I had better wait for that very 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 179 
 
 worst; yet I have liked the place it seemed a sort of 
 haven to come back to; a central camp where I could 
 keep my traps and toggery. I could seH it easily, of 
 course, though Uncle Dacy insists I would need to 
 prune the shrubs and spruce it up." 
 
 "The vandal! He talks like a crude real estate 
 agent. Uncle Dacy s artistic bump is a hollow. Gillie 
 and the children are coming over for me in the car. 
 You don t mind them scampering over promiscuously, 
 do you?" 
 
 "No, I don t mind, and Maum Rosa has great joy 
 in them all. It is the trouble of her life that I live so 
 much alone." 
 
 "Well, in all these years I should think she d get 
 used to it." 
 
 "She never does quite. And though she was my 
 mother s nurse I never saw her from my babyhood un 
 til my return to Georgia. She thoroughly approves of 
 your family parties, and loves to fuss around and cook 
 up surprises for you; says there is always something 
 doing when you are here." 
 
 " She is a dear, normal soul," decided Nell, curling 
 up on a window seat and watching Monica at work, 
 "and she is quite right about you living alone. You 
 should marry some nice chap and make him happy 
 ever afterwards ! " 
 
 "As the laws are so unfair to women," complained 
 her hostess, "and only allows us one husband at a 
 
 time" 
 
180 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Nell shied a pillow at her, from which she ducked, 
 and laughed. 
 
 "Since this remains a sad fact," she continued, "I 
 don t see how I am legally to practice polyandry unless 
 I emigrate to India." 
 
 "Poly what? India?" 
 
 Nell sat up eagerly, her blue eyes open wide. 
 Monica laughed at her and nodded. 
 
 " India," she repeated. " Certain districts where 
 ladies can have as many husbands as they can take 
 care of." 
 
 "Well, wouldn t that jar you?" remarked Nell, 
 slangily. " Say, I always did wonder what the attrac 
 tion for women was in the dressing gowned priests of 
 the East who are so popular lately. Every black-and- 
 tan who gets himself up in a yellow robe, a turban, 
 and a self-communion expression, can be star of the 
 evening for whole towns full of women. They all say 
 they are seeking a new religion, or devoting themselves 
 to a new cult, but I have a hunch that they are seeking 
 the trail to those nice emancipated districts where 
 woman s rights have been settled the way she wants 
 them ! " 
 
 "Elinor!" and the reproving tone imitated Mrs. 
 Dacy. " I trust you do not allow any one outside of 
 the family to hear you make use of such regrettable 
 language ! " 
 
 "Oh, you humbug," laughed Elinor, joyously. 
 "But is that correct about India?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 181 
 
 "Some parts of India; thinking of emigrating?** 
 
 Nell flounced around on the window seat with her 
 back to the speaker. 
 
 " If you could convince the last two men you prom 
 ised to marry," continued Monica Wayne, teasingly; 
 but Nell flounced around again, facing her with a 
 scowl. 
 
 " I wish to goodness you would fall in love ! " she 
 burst out vindictively. " It would teach you a whole 
 lot, and I hope I may be there to see it when it 
 happens ! " 
 
 u Yes, dear child," said Monica, soothingly, "I ll 
 carry a banner to tell you when." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TN Manhattan, a month later, McLane Sargent 
 turned from his desk and walked over to a lounging 
 chair as he cut open a large, square envelope contain 
 ing many sheets inscribed with the angular penmanship 
 of Elinor Mitford, and smiled as he noted the heading 
 of the letter, 
 
 DACY S HARBOR, MASS. 
 MY DEAR MR. SARGENT: 
 
 I hope you take notice that I am duly polite to a man 
 whom I don t seem to know very well these days ! 
 
 You may not be " my Mr. Sargent " at all ! I don t know 
 whose you are, but I do know that this has been the most 
 infernal summer ever! 
 
 It s all very well to write me that you are deep in a new 
 novel, and that Art is mistress for the moment, but what 
 about the rest of the time ? 
 
 If I had ever dreamed that you were not coming back, I 
 would have accepted Nanny s invitation for the yacht trip. 
 Gillie went, also Fannie and Lulu. I get lovely letters 
 about their lovely times up at Boothbay Harbor, and then 
 I go over and camp all over Monica s place, and wonder 
 how she stands being alone all the time, when it nearly kills 
 me in a week ! 
 
 Of course there are folks here relatives! The place 
 is overrun with them, but I would start this minute and join 
 Nanny Allen if Aunt Martha was not so awful about it! 
 I m sorry I was ever engaged to Tony, for it seems the pro- 
 
 182 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 183 
 
 prieties decide I can t go on his yacht even with his sister 
 as chaperone! I tell Aunt Martha you don t care, and at 
 would be all right, but she looks at me over her eye glasses 
 and says in her most precise way, " Elinor, I am aston 
 ished!" 
 
 She doesn t tell me whether it is at me or at you! 
 Cousin Huldah is here from Boston, and while she can t, 
 of course, approve of New York, she has brought with her 
 the latest and biggest hit in the world of romance (so far 
 as sales go which is up in the million !) to show that even 
 Manhattan, with all its crudeness, can evolve a near-risque 
 chronicle of real life (all college girls are dippy over it!) 
 and yet never cross the forbidden line as you do with your 
 Mexican saint-sinner! This is her way of making a pro 
 test because I quarreled with Tony, and his barrels of 
 money, and became yours truly! I wish you had time to 
 read it I mean the " Chronicle from Life" an artist s 
 life ! The heroine is a lovely creature, formed by Venus in 
 a happy moment. She flees from an artistic, hypnotic vil 
 lain, and finds shelter in the bachelor apartment of the man 
 she adores. He is a highly emotional creature as well as 
 a husky athlete. He has fallen from grace morally, and 
 temporarily socially, but is really a noble soul, if the 
 women would only let him alone which they won t! 
 (Lane, dear, does all masculine genius have to hide from 
 the sweet creatures who find their ideals too late?) I don t 
 mean the women of the twilight type, but the " papa s 
 darling " and " hubby s pet " sort, whose adoring natures 
 require the romance of a kindred soul while everyday hubby 
 is earning bread and butter ! When I marry you, I want a 
 clause in the contract allowing me to read your mail 
 some one will have to guard you from the dear things, to 
 judge from the unusual sort of interest " Twilight " has 
 aroused. Your point of view is so improper, Cousin Hul- 
 
184 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 dah says! To return to our hero he has as companion 
 in his lonely moments, a brandy bottle. He talks to it in 
 order to give vent to the noble sentiments of his soul ! He 
 would voice love to the Venus creature, but that he has 
 fallen from grace, his inspiration for work is gone, and be 
 yond the brandy bottle he sees only the grave ! 
 
 This is the psychological moment when the persecuted 
 heroine, who secretly adores him, turns blindly to his 
 door for refuge. She begs him to save her from the hyp 
 notic villain for whom she has been posing to earn mere 
 bread and butter. She clings to him, inarticulate and half 
 fainting, just as the electric lights are turned off by the 
 gods or the janitor! 
 
 To make the situation more thrilling, some convivial 
 Companions had left the remains of a lunch scattered about 
 
 cheese! A hungry mouse, lured by the odor, ventures 
 after the crumbs, just as the husky of the brandy bottle, and 
 the noble sentiments, has firmly unlaced the clinging fingers. 
 But she hears that mouse ! There is a scream in the dark, 
 the fear of the unseen is upon her, he lifts her in his strong 
 arms, she cuddles her cheek into the hollow of his neck, and 
 begs his protection. And the night passes and the dawn 
 breaks and in his arms she is asleep the trustful child of 
 Venus. 
 
 I can t make out whether he stood there all night pro 
 tecting the lovely thing in his arms against the mouse ; any 
 way, there are whispers of the shy young creature, and mur 
 murs of reassurance, and long lines of asterisks in between 
 
 spelling breathless suspense for the reader; but nothing 
 happens. 
 
 And in the morning mail a letter comes with the news 
 that a dear, maiden aunt has died and left him her sole 
 heir; and the two breakfast in his rooms, and start out to 
 buy wedding togs! 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 185 
 
 Now I know Cousin Huldah regards this as the proper 
 kind of love story; and, as I told you, the girls are crazy 
 about it. It is really proper, yet so nearly not so! All the 
 breathless, doubtful, almost improper moments were 
 really the fault of the mouse ! 
 
 Why can t you do just one like that to square yourself 
 with our New England relatives? They shake their heads 
 over the big sales of your Woman of the Twilight. Aunt 
 Martha said yesterday that it would only have taken a few 
 pages more to have had a death-bed marriage for your 
 Mexican black sheep, and thus showed that their intentions 
 were proper! 
 
 I am only passing it along as it comes to me, so if I am 
 not an inspiration it isn t my fault ! I tried to talk to Mon 
 ica about it, but she was no comfort. I did not dare tell 
 Cousin Huldah her reminiscences of Mexicans who regarded 
 marriage as a useless expense, and a trick of the church to 
 get extra money from the priest for absolution! Also she 
 says they were often dear, harmless people! Can you 
 fancy Aunt Martha hearing that? 
 
 I do wish you had talked more with Monica she is the 
 only one among us who has lived near the sort of people 
 you wrote of. I say " near," yet Mexico and California are 
 both so big that you might never have been within a thou 
 sand miles of her! But I did hope you two would take to 
 each other, and you ran away at the first glance ! 
 
 She is having her own troubles. Aunt Martha, follow 
 ing the thing she calls her Christian duty, is making the 
 trouble. Lord deliver me from the folks who decide they 
 are divinely called upon to adjust all the family affairs! 
 
 Our dear cousin Glyndon thinks he wants to come back. 
 I had a brief, shaky note from him, also a love of a brace 
 let a sapphire in dull Etruscan gold. He wants to know 
 
1 86 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 if Monica is really as beautiful as the pictures Aunt Martha 
 sent him he seems doubtful. I wrote him I thought Mon 
 ica had a beautiful spirit, and that sort of nature rather 
 blinded friends to any physical imperfections! I felt like 
 a brute to even hint that Monica had a physical imperfec 
 tion for she has n t ; she is about the most perfect creature 
 I ever expect to see! If I were a sculptor I would model 
 her as an Aphrodite. She is as strong as steel under that 
 velvety skin. I only wish you had seen her in the water, 
 or managing her own boat. If I had dared tell dear cousin 
 Glyn what a wonder she is, he would be here on the first 
 steamer, with his bank book and Aunt Martha to plead 
 for him. Not that he cares for her, only if she was hand 
 some, and would open a house in town for him, she w r ould 
 bring back the people! I think he is sick of Europe, and 
 of going around under a cloud. Too many of his sort over 
 there ! 
 
 Monica doesn t say a word, but I see her looking over 
 the place, and making little changes, and know it is with a 
 view to selling it if living is made too unpleasant for her. 
 When we marry, I want one corner of our house sacred 
 to Monica alone; else she will drift away from all of us 
 some day, and leave no trail. 
 
 Glyn s surprise over those pictures is funny he seems 
 to think it is some family scheme to get him back and re 
 form him ; that s why he wrote to me ! He knows precious 
 well I would never waste time trying to reform him! He 
 states that he can t see a trace of the scrawny, thin-faced, 
 evil-tempered little ranger in this lovely girl of the picture 
 Tony made a snapshot of her for me. I am sending you 
 a copy, for I want you to see that there is a likeness to those 
 drawings, not in full face, perhaps, but in general char 
 acter. 
 
 I am ever so proud of the special edition of the story 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 187 
 
 you are bringing out. What is the "new" drawing you 
 mention as frontispiece? Does that mean that you are 
 again in communication with your Mystery Lady? I can 
 stand a certain amount of that so long as I am on the 
 inside, but if you start blanketing the proposition, I 11 divorce 
 you! 
 
 Monica told us of a simple and charming method by 
 which the Indian women of a certain tribe issue a decree 
 of divorce if the man in the case refuses to play the game 
 right. She simply closes her door against him and the 
 thing is settled the woman decides. The state laws are 
 not called into action. The man toddles home to his own 
 folks. Aunt Martha says it is a heathen and unlawful so 
 cial condition, and Monica said, in her sweetest way, that 
 she did not in the least mind being a heathen, and that she 
 thought the tribal custom was a very good law as to 
 live with the man when she did not want to, would be hope 
 lessly immoral! 
 
 So you can have an idea how close the dove of peace is 
 hanging over this shore ! They are nice and polite to each 
 other, but Aunt Martha can t get over the things Monica 
 said that night ; neither can Fannie Smith ! 
 
 Do break away and come up! I never did need a man 
 around the place so badly. There are some cousins here, 
 but they are not worth flirting with! 
 
 I 11 have to pay excess baggage on this ; and when I take 
 my pen in hand to indite chronicles of this length to the 
 man out of sight you can wager there is nothing doing at 
 our camp ! 
 
 If you don t come, it will be me for Boothbay Harbor; 
 they want Monica, too ! Be good ! NELL. 
 
 Sargent opened another envelope addressed in the 
 same writing, and from it fell the picture of which she 
 
1 88 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 wrote, a slender white figure guiding her boat through 
 a white-capped sea. There was a crisp sparkle in the 
 picture, a snappy wind sent spray flying as the bow 
 cleaved the water. With her feet braced against the 
 dip of the boat to leeward she stood poised, confident, 
 and erect, the graceful figure outlined clearly from 
 shoulder to instep by the wind whipping her skirts 
 about her. Her hair braided in schoolgirl fashion 
 gave him a new idea of her; here she was herself, a 
 slender boyish girl, laughing as she drove her little 
 sailboat over the lift of the waves. 
 
 He could only see her ear and cheek and chin, yet 
 there was joy in it and youth and a charm alluring. In 
 a way it was also familiar. He had never seen her 
 joyous. She had been gay, and a trifle ironic, and her 
 eyes held one; yet there had been no care-free joyous 
 abandon such as one could understand in this picture 
 of the graceful, boyish sailor. 
 
 Was it because she was of the same type as the 
 drawings in the little book that the thought of her was 
 a close, intimate thing? For he no longer even denied 
 the fact that it was so. There was something mar 
 velous in her closeness, in the way her voice came to 
 him in the memory of the one little moment when 
 he had held her hand; and the eyes how marvelous 
 they were in their baffling witchery; gray shadowed 
 flame! There was not a glance she had given him 
 which he could not recall and see again with his own 
 eyes closed. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Not since he was twenty had any woman creature 
 thus made herself a part of every waking hour, and 
 then it had been a wild boy s passion for a girl who 
 used him as kindling; who gave caress for caress in 
 the abandon of despair ere she turned away to sell her 
 self for a few millions and a wedding ring. The hurt 
 had gone rather deep. It had been more than one year 
 before he had been able to greet her with the self- 
 restraint desirable, or note her as one of the social 
 leaders of a much envied set, without the mad memo 
 ries of stolen hours sweeping over him. 
 
 Then, in rebellion against the slavery of the social 
 game, the emptiness all the wedding ring and the mil 
 lions had won for her, she tried to call him back, and 
 lost him eternally. 
 
 He realized then that the loss of his last illusion 
 could be even a more poignant thing than the loss of 
 the pretty pirate who stole sweets where it was safe 
 to steal them, but never lost track of the thing she had 
 been trained to look for money! 
 
 Girls had been merely girls in his life since then 
 charming or not, as it happened; interesting always, yet 
 leaving him master of himself. The safe frankness of 
 Nell had appealed to him more than had beauty or 
 charm of any girl for years. Only once had the 
 lure of the unknown cast a glamour over his imagina 
 tion through the drawings for his Woman of the 
 Twilight. 
 
 But that had been a chapter of its own in his life, 
 
190 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 and the chapter was ended; except that it had, for a 
 time, brought back the mystery of youth s illusions and 
 held all the suggestion of romance, an idyll of the 
 dusk of life. The unknown artist was to his imagina 
 tion as a veiled woman of the East whose lute had vi 
 brated for him for a little moment ere the lattice 
 closed ! It had not belonged at all to the usual experi 
 ences of life, and but for the written statement that 
 she was not free, and could write him no more, he 
 would have allowed no obstacles to stand in the way 
 of his finding her. 
 
 Yet she had written him once more at least, and 
 after reading Nell s letter a second time he took from 
 a desk the drawing he used as frontispiece for the spe 
 cial edition of the book, and read the typed letter 
 accompanying it, 
 
 MAN: 
 
 I said I would not write, but a dream has set me to 
 work, and the dream was of your book. I do not know 
 what the drawing- means, I only drew what the dream 
 brought me. It may be a ship of life, gray, gray with 
 only the very tips of the sails touched by white light. 
 I seemed waiting, in the dream, for the light to grow 
 and spread over the gray of the sea, and dissolve the 
 mists, and show me what was beyond and beyond ! 
 
 Yet again I was thankful that the white light did 
 touch it, though only the top of the sails. It seems to 
 belong to you, so I send it. The ship, as you see, is 
 going out far out into the deeper dusk as I am. 
 
 To you the light! 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 191 
 
 The drawing was in softest, warmest gray. It made 
 Sargent think of certain Japanese pictures, so simple 
 were the lines, yet so satisfying in the suggestions. 
 
 There was a gray shore where the mists rolled, and 
 out of the mists the vessel like a fleeing bird spread 
 gray sails. The hull was merely suggested, also the 
 grace of it, and only the tips of the sails caught a 
 gleam of white light from some unseen source some 
 glancing ray piercing the gray mists and outlining the 
 ship of dreams in a crown of white. 
 
 The thing fascinated him, and he deliberately put it 
 out of sight that the thoughts it suggested be not 
 encouraged to come between him and the work he had 
 to do. 
 
 But as he placed it on his desk, and knew that each 
 view of it was more satisfying than the last, his eyes 
 wandered to the smaller picture sent by Nell of 
 another vessel heading out to sea, but a very tiny ves 
 sel buoyant in the sparkling light, and the figure of the 
 girl vibrant with life and grace, and a daring, boylike 
 instead of girlish. Where, in what land of dreams 
 had she thus crossed his vision before? 
 
 It was not any one feature, or any one line of figure 
 by which she brought to him the fleeting witchery of 
 nearness and a sort of kinship; it was as much her 
 voice, and the trend of her thought. What other girl 
 would ever have given such an ultimatum as she gave 
 Hallet and Dacy that night? 
 
 Yet he was evidently the only one of the group who 
 
192 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 was not even surprised, and his joy in her daring was 
 altogether absurd. It accounted for his silence, and he 
 had come away half afraid she might realize the en 
 chantment by which he was possessed. He could fancy 
 the mockery in those wonderful eyes and the slight 
 ironic curve of the adorable mouth. 
 
 He sat looking at the two boats sparkling life and 
 shadowed mystery and smoked until clouds hid them 
 at times, and helped the gray ship to added atmosphere. 
 
 He was so engaged when a knock sounded at the 
 door and George Hallet came in. Sargent greeted 
 him heartily, offering him cigars, something in a glass, 
 and a lounging chair. 
 
 "Thanks for all," and Hallet accepted the latter 
 with evident pleasure. "I did not call up to ask if 
 you were at leisure because I didn t want to risk being 
 turned down; one never knows what barriers genius 
 may erect, so I took a long chance." 
 
 " Do it again. When I am working too hard to see 
 folks, there s nothing doing with the phone and no 
 doors are opened." 
 
 He was preparing some fragrant refreshment at a 
 cabinet, and the odor of limes was on the air. While 
 his hands were busy at the pleasant task, his mind was 
 alert and was not above curiosity. Though he knew 
 Hallet casually, and had for him a real admiration, 
 there had never been any chumminess between them; 
 Hallet had never before been to his rooms, and his 
 manner indicated that his call was not merely a casual 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 193 
 
 social matter, his pleasure at the open door was too 
 apparent. 
 
 "Another masterpiece?" he queried, waving his 
 hand towards sheets of manuscript scattered on the 
 floor, where they had been accidentally brushed from 
 the desk. " I hope you treat us to sunshine and happi 
 ness instead of " 
 
 Sargent smiled at the halt in his speech. 
 
 "They all take me to task for seeing the shadows 
 too clearly," he agreed, "so don t think I am at all 
 thin-skinned about it. I am doing a mystery story this 
 time turning an actual experience into copy and 
 as the mystery has never been solved I have a new 
 sort of work to do." 
 
 He still stood at the cabinet pouring the fragrant 
 beverage from a pitcher into two tall slender glasses, 
 and turning to offer one to Hallet perceived that he 
 was giving little heed to the theme of the new novel. 
 He was leaning on the arm of the chair staring at the 
 pictures on the desk. 
 
 "Like that?" he asked as he dropped into his own 
 chair and lifted his glass to his guest ere drinking. " It 
 is the frontispiece for the special edition of the 
 Woman of the Twilight. Entirely symbolic. What 
 would you call it a ship of life destined to the mists 
 of the half light? But the ray of white touching it 
 rather lifts it out of the thought of shadows makes it 
 a poetic dream-like thing, with a suggestion of Japan, 
 don t you think so ? " 
 
194 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 : Yes," said Hallet, slowly, still gazing at the desk. 
 " It has that suggestion, but it was not the pastel I 
 was looking at; it was the picture of Mrs. Wayne." 
 
 ; You have good eyes," observed Sargent. "How 
 could you tell who it was at that distance when the 
 face scarcely shows?" 
 
 " I don t know, just the character and poise, I sup 
 pose. It is very distinctive." 
 
 " Very, else I should not be its temporary host. Nell 
 sent it to show me there really was a sort of likeness 
 to the woman in my book illustrations; not that she 
 needed to send extra evidence. The type is the same, 
 and, as you say, distinctive." 
 
 Yes," conceded Hallet, "very, and I presume that 
 is one of the pictures Mrs. Dacy used in her efforts to 
 bring her nephew back to America; or am I allowed 
 to presume that, as a prospective member of the 
 family, you have been introduced to that late laudable 
 movement?" 
 
 His tone was so ironic that Sargent looked at him 
 sharply. 
 
 "Nell tells me of it today," and he picked up her 
 letter, folding it carefully and slipping it in the 
 envelope. "She also writes herself down as a 
 prophetess of troubles that may arise from the family 
 interference." 
 
 Hallet drained his glass, and, rising to his feet, 
 crossed the room to the window, where he stared 
 down the avenue at the endless crowds of people. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 195 
 
 There had been a shower of rain, and the sun, gleam 
 ing yellow from under the slight cloud, made all of the 
 world a golden glitter, but Hallet did not appear im 
 pressed by the picture. Sargent, watching him, 
 wondered a little and emptied the glass, and waited. 
 
 "They will drive her out of America and out of all 
 civilization if they don t let her alone," said Hallet at 
 last. " Can t they see that a girl who made the stand 
 she did about that divorce does not care a rap about 
 the reputation of their little family circles? But since 
 she never will agree to a union, the only safe thing for 
 her is legal freedom, and let him marry whom he 
 chooses." 
 
 "Even Lulu?" 
 
 " No of course not. That was no doubt her step 
 mother s scheming, but even she would scarcely dare 
 try it again, now that she knows." 
 
 "I m not so sure," observed Sargent; "the sympa 
 thetic feminine mind has queer twists at times. I 
 think her sympathy for Mr. Wayne is no doubt 
 strengthened by the evidence that he has such an 
 impossible wife. I can t imagine a more unwifely 
 lady." 
 
 "You don t like her?" stated Hallet, accusingly. 
 
 " I did not say so, but you must allow that she does 
 not seem at all amenable to the domestic conventions." 
 
 " But she could be, she would be if she ever had 
 a chance, the right chance with the right man," per 
 sisted Hallet, loyally. " This unnatural situation and 
 
196 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 her anomalous position puts her on the defensive with 
 everyone. That sort of thing would warp the spirit 
 of an angel, and " 
 
 " I could think of one or two other things to com 
 pare her to rather than an angel," was Sargent s smil 
 ing comment, as Hallet dropped into^ the chair again 
 and regarded the picture of her on the desk. 
 
 " I came in to talk to you about this very subject," 
 he said at last, " and it gave me a bit of a whirl to come 
 face to face with her picture here." 
 
 "Not my fault, or hers," said Sargent, amicably. 
 "Nell is the deep-dyed conspirator in the case. Are 
 you another?" 
 
 " I imagine that is about what it amounts to," con 
 fessed Hallet. "I had her convinced that a divorce 
 was the one wise thing, and you see how it ended. A 
 hint that he might marry the wrong girl made her no 
 longer indifferent, but assertive. She has heretofore 
 always appeared so indifferent that no one can see 
 how she ever came to marry him. She made conditions 
 with Dacy before she came into the family circle that 
 they were not to trouble her with questions. She was 
 only a child yet most unchildlike." 
 
 "Yes," assented Sargent. "Charming as she is to 
 the people she likes, she struck me as the sort of woman 
 who had never had a childhood not that she is 
 worldly or sophisticated but there is an impression 
 that she is on guard that she has always been on 
 guard." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 197 
 
 Hallet looked at him sharply. 
 
 " You ve struck it," he said with conviction. " That 
 is a puzzling element I could never quite define in her, 
 yet always felt." 
 
 "Oh, you ve felt it, too?" 
 
 "Rather! I fancied it was accounted for by her 
 unpleasant situation, but knowing what we do of 
 Wayne, there is no knowing how many different kinds 
 of hell she became acquainted with before any of us 
 saw her; and that s why there must be none of this 
 unhappy family reunion business, and why I want your 
 help." 
 
 "My help! My dear fellow, if you knew how that 
 lovely lady looks over me and past me and then looks 
 the other way, mostly the other way, you d realize 
 that this is the wrong shop to come to for influence." 
 
 "You mean that she doesn t like you?" 
 
 " I confess I d be afraid to ask her." 
 
 " But I can t understand " 
 
 " Thanks ; don t try," suggested Sargent. " The fact 
 is, I rather think our loving friends had rather over 
 done the pleasant task of praising each of us, and we 
 met prepared to pick flaws in each other. She began 
 the game by skim-milk sort of praise for those draw 
 ings," and he motioned to the originals of the illustra 
 tions, framed, on the wall, "and perhaps I said the 
 wrong thing result, the lovely lady looks down upon 
 me from a very high throne, or else stilts." 
 
 "At least I can assure you it is not stilts," Hallet 
 
198 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 hastened to assert. " She is the farthest possible from 
 being stilted; but you know she does know considerable 
 about art, and it may be " 
 
 "Oh, I bear no malice," said Sargent, interrupting 
 the attempt to explain. "She probably thinks I am 
 not the right man for Nell, and puts me on probation 
 before giving her approval; but you see I am not 
 likely to be of much service if it is a matter of 
 influence." 
 
 " But I hoped that with the help of Nell" 
 
 " I see. In her letter she does not seem to favor the 
 family reunion." 
 
 " I know. But that is all negative. What I want 
 is positive action in the other direction. Monica 
 Wayne must be persuaded to favor a divorce for her 
 own sake. I want to get it for her, but I can t try 
 again to talk her into it." 
 
 " I should think you would be just the one person 
 to do it." 
 
 "Well, you ll have to think again," said Hallet. 
 "I can t." 
 
 His face flushed, and Sargent felt the color sweep 
 into his own face as he arose and turned towards the 
 cabinet. 
 
 "Have another drink," he suggested. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Miss Elinor Mitford, Boothbay Harbor, Mdine, to Mrs. 
 Monica Wayne, Dacy s Harbor, Gloucester, Massa 
 chusetts. 
 
 MONICA DEAR: 
 
 You really should have come along. There is an art 
 group here, and quite a sprinkling of highbrows of your 
 sort, the real folks who get down to brass tacks and know 
 all the latest scientific whirls. 
 
 And you are alone down there with that booming surf 
 and Aunt Martha the nearest neighbor! 
 
 Lane has neither come nor written, so I don t know where 
 I stand. Aunt Martha is furious, but I could not endure the 
 family circle another minute, and what is the use being 
 engaged if you never see the man? 
 
 Dear Cousin Glyndon is still curious and suddenly 
 devoted to " Cousin Nellie." I have a pair of earrings now 
 to match the bracelet ! I have n t told him a thing, but Aunt 
 Martha is quite busy. I don t mean to be a calamity howler, 
 but I do wish you would not live there alone. I am half 
 afraid of a surprise party for you some day in the form of a 
 repentant husband. I don t know how he would blossom 
 out as a penitent, but I had the felicity (?) once of seeing 
 him when filled with mixed drinks, and on pleasure bent, 
 " running amuck/ as it were, and he certainly cut a wide 
 swath! Aunt Martha can t quite credit that side of Glyn, 
 because he has charming moments, and she only chooses to 
 think of those moments ; but I know the other side, and hope 
 
 199 
 
200 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 you never will. Do let the work rest and come where the 
 folks are alive! 
 
 Nanny wanted to know if she could get that little sewing 
 girl, Hettie, as a maid, but Aunt Martha does not seem able 
 to locate her. She has faded off the map since the death of 
 her grandfather, and Aunt Martha evidently does not think 
 either of them much of a loss to the coast. But if the girl 
 comes back, and you care to give her Nanny s address, it 
 would be appreciated here. Her maid married a husky life- 
 saving roundsman and is the belle of the beach just now. 
 
 If you ever wrote letters I would ask if any word comes 
 to the Dacy family concerning Lane ; he may be away, but is 
 supposed to be writing himself famous again in Manhattan. 
 You two are equally difficult in different ways not 
 amenable to discipline in the family circle. Neither of you 
 seem to crave a rattling good time. 
 
 You may get a chance to work hard as you like in the next 
 incarnation, so why not take a good, long breathing spell in 
 this? Do pull up anchor and join us. The rest of the 
 children are this minute framing a " round robin " in which 
 to forward the same request. Devotedly, 
 
 NELL. 
 
 The " round robin/ with its circle of friendly names, 
 and several masterpieces in the way of pen-sketched* 
 and pen-blotted caricatures, was taken from the 
 envelope, and Monica Wayne smiled at the joyous 
 absurdity of the whole. 
 
 Other mail slipped to the sand as she re-reud Nell s 
 expressed fear of a surprise party. She sat on the 
 great timber of some ancient wreck and frowned out 
 at the open sea. For a girl of twenty-two, who had 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 20 1 
 
 lived a strange, half-barbaric childhood, and the 
 secretive shut-in life of girlhood, the problems were 
 closing in, and she would have to face them as she had 
 faced all things alone. 
 
 She re-read the lines, " But I know the other side 
 and hope you never will," and her smile was bitter 
 with unvoiced memories and, gathering up the other 
 mail impatiently, she walked down to a little boat, laid 
 the letters in and was about to push off, when a step 
 crunched the pebbles back of her and a hand was laid 
 on the gunwale. 
 
 "Allow me," said the voice of Sargent beside her. 
 She shrank from him, and then stood perfectly still, 
 not turning towards him, or looking at him, and the 
 color ebbed from her face, leaving her marble-like. 
 
 The man stared at her, amazed that she could be so 
 startled. 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon ! " he said, hurriedly, laying 
 his hand on hers. " It never occurred to me that you 
 did not hear me. I waited until you had finished your 
 letter, but feel like a brute to startle you so." 
 
 "It i s nothing," she said, moving a step away 
 and leaning against the boat, while the color swept 
 over her throat and cheek, leaving her girlishly lovely 
 under the white Tam-o -Shanter. "It was stupid of 
 me; I never knew I was nervous before. No, I did 
 not know you were here." 
 
 " I probably came on the same train bringing your 
 mail," he observed, picking up one of the fallen letters 
 
2O2 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 from the sand. u I have been out on the water ten days 
 and ran into Gloucester for supplies. I came up for a 
 day to see the folks, but came too late to find Nell." 
 
 "She went north last week and wrote you, I 
 believe." 
 
 "I ve been out of touch with mail was writing 
 up some sea scenes and lived out on the water to do it. 
 I will have the pleasure of letters waiting me in 
 Manhattan." 
 
 He talked on easily and casually until the trembling 
 of her hands had ceased and she had regained her poise 
 somewhat. He could not but wonder at her absolute 
 fear. She had turned as if to flee at his approach. Her 
 mind was so filled by the other picture conjured up by 
 the letter of Nell that for an instant it was as if the 
 dreaded thing had come back out of the old life to 
 stand beside her. 
 
 She took the fallen letters from his hand, but made 
 no attempt at conversation, and had not once lifted 
 her eyes to his. It was not a cold or resentful silence 
 it was vibrant of the unexpressed, and despite her 
 half-shy silence he could read relief in her manner, 
 even though she had drawn away from the impulsive 
 touch of his hand. 
 
 " Mrs. Dacy told me you had sailed around the reef 
 for your mail, and that I might have the good fortune 
 to find you at the pier," he said; "may I also have the 
 good fortune to be of service, and take you back to 
 your sanctuary above the sea?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 203 
 
 "Take me back, you?" she said, looking up at him 
 for the first time, and then laughed a bit, nervously. 
 " It is scarcely worth the time it would take, and Mrs. 
 Dacy would think me a pirate to carry off t her special 
 guest." 
 
 "Then you don t mean to invite me aboard your 
 craft?" he queried, with the desire to again see the 
 smile in her eyes. She looked absurdly young in the 
 white blouse and natty skirt of many buttons. She 
 was the girl of the picture, but evasive and shrinking 
 rather than the self-confident sailor maid. 
 
 u To invite you aboard to escort me home would 
 only amuse your friends," she remarked. " I sail over 
 all these waters alone, day-time or night-time. In fact, 
 I think I will leave the boat and go back to the house. 
 I want an address for Nanny Allen, and it may be that 
 Mrs. Dacy can help me." 
 
 There was, of course, no reply to be made to that; 
 he was plainly and absolutely barred out from anything 
 approaching cousinship with this cousin of Nell s. It 
 would have been amusing if it had been any other 
 woman. 
 
 He turned and walked beside her up the path wind 
 ing between huge boulders. Few words were spoken 
 between them, yet, as before, the silence was not the 
 barrier her words had been. 
 
 He looked at her face, half turned away, and smiled. 
 
 " Do you remember how startled I was at you that 
 first day when you emerged from the shrubbery just 
 
204 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 about here?" he asked. "I wish you could help me 
 discover why you seemed no stranger. Was it your 
 likeness to the drawings, or is it a case of reincarna 
 tion?" 
 
 " Probably the latter," she suggested, u in which case 
 you should know as much about it as I." 
 
 " I probably should, but have a feeling that I don t." 
 
 " What an idea !" 
 
 " I know so little that my interest in the subject has 
 never abated, while you either know so much that you 
 have no curiosity left, or else the queries so bewildering 
 to me are beneath your attention." 
 
 Probably the latter," she repeated, with a sudden 
 mutinous flash of the eyes he had thought of as shad 
 owed flames. u But I fancied the reincarnation reason 
 for things was a trifle shopworn." 
 
 "After that thrust I presume you would scorn to 
 look at the special edition of the little Twilight 
 story," he observed, "but I did bring a copy, and there 
 is one new illustration." 
 
 " I suppose the polite thing to say is that I would be 
 delighted to see it, and the polite thing in this case 
 chances to be the truth." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 " Really. The story is a little gem, as you have 
 had to hear very often. It has all the color of a faith 
 ful translation from the Spanish. There is no sugges 
 tion of Anglo-Saxon America in it, which is remarkable 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 20 j 
 
 for an easterner, who merely passed through the coun 
 try, absorbing fleeting impressions." 
 
 "How did you chance to know the method of 
 work?" he asked, quickly. She turned, mildly 
 surprised, indifferent eyes on him. 
 
 " Did not Mr. Oilman make some comment of that 
 sort?" she asked, " or was it Nell? Anyway, jou 
 should live in Spain or Mexico; you have the key." 
 
 She had grown more at ease as they neared the 
 house, more cordial in tone as their tete-a-tete was 
 nearing the end. 
 
 Thus he was given at times brief tantalizing glimpses 
 of the friendly spirit which her devotees affirmed was 
 normally her own. 
 
 When they reached the house she suggested to Dacy 
 that he walk to the bungalow with her and talk over 
 some improvements she was considering regarding the 
 property. Then after questioning Mrs. Dacy, with 
 out effect, concerning the little seamstress, she remem 
 bered the special edition of The Woman of the Twi 
 light and graciously signified to Mr. Sargent that she 
 would be pleased to see it ! 
 
 Without comment he took from the table the little 
 volume in white, and gray, and silver, and opene d it at 
 the frontispiece of the shadow ship sailing out into the 
 mists of the unknown. 
 
 "How Japanese!" she remarked after a careful 
 inspection, and holding it at arm s length. " It is beau 
 tifully reproduced. What does it mean ? " 
 
206 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Receiving no reply, she glanced up to see him regard 
 ing her with a puzzled frown. It seemed incompre 
 hensible to him that, with her rather unusual acquire 
 ments, she should fail utterly to grasp a thought if 
 sentiment entered into it, even in an art form. 
 
 " I have evidently said the wrong thing," she 
 observed with a rueful smile, " but, after all, what does 
 any ship mean until one knows the cargo aboard? This 
 one goes out into the unknown and gives one the feeling 
 that the end of the trail is far away." 
 
 A little later she waved a light adieu to the others 
 and Dacy walked with her over to the bungalow and 
 conferred on the very trifling changes she had sug 
 gested. After a cup of tea he left and promised to 
 send a fisherman back with her boat; a thing he was 
 always eager to do rather than see her sail it herself 
 through the dangerous waters and around sunken 
 reefs. 
 
 He was seconded heartily in this by Maum Rosa, 
 who, born and reared inland, never looked but with 
 dread on the tumultuous sea and the wreckage in the 
 coves, telling their mute tale of tragedies. 
 
 When her boat rounded the reef an hour later, Mon 
 ica Wayne, seeing it, smiled at herself and at the loss 
 of the glorious sail she had counted upon that perfect- 
 day the sail she had given up rather than bring 
 back with her the guest who had so pointedly asked an 
 invitation. 
 
 Apparently she was getting at least some amusement 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 207 
 
 from the puzzled scrutiny of the author of Twilight. 
 It never yet had dawned upon him that she had stood 
 within a few feet of him in the old plaza of San Juan 
 while her rage and triumph had been voiced in no uncer 
 tain words. He had used that episode in his story 
 of the mission pueblo, but had given the ride and the 
 action to his Woman of the Twilight, who rode against 
 time, and swam the river, to reach her lover. And 
 after using the episode he had half forgotten that the 
 actual rider had been the evil-tempered, thin-faced 
 child who taunted the Mexican by slurs against his 
 family circle. 
 
 Yet continually she was aware that when she spoke 
 to others his ears were open to her voice, and at times 
 a quick turn of his head, a more direct glance of the 
 eye, would meet her, as if suddenly he had almost dis 
 cerned the link connecting her with some forgotten 
 life almost, but never quite. 
 
 At first when she came to the East, to the place of 
 her mother s people, the pain and some of the horror 
 of the old life was too new, too keen, to speak of. As 
 she grew older and met at every turn the different cus 
 toms and different standards, she became more and 
 more loath to voice remembrance of that peculiar 
 household where her dark cousins still held sway, and 
 where her one woman friend had been the devotee of 
 the shrine, and she knew now the central figure 
 in Sargent s story. 
 
 She had not as a girl given a thought to the fact 
 
208 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 that Dona Carmelita was, in a way, a member of the 
 family what would have become of them all if she 
 had not been? But Sargent s book had been a revela 
 tion to her of the life hidden from her younger years. 
 She wondered as to whether it had been literally a true 
 story he had written, or if he had idealized and added 
 to the romance or the tragedy. Yet, much as she appre 
 ciated his sympathy and his grasp of the life there, 
 she dared not put forward a single query lest it lift 
 the thin veil and awaken memory. 
 
 Also, with her own growing fame, it was scarcely 
 the time to acknowledge, after six silent years, that 
 she had been a part of the life of Sargent s Mexican 
 village. And to the people of the East, who knew 
 that she had lived at times among the Mexicans, it 
 never occurred that the most Mexican village in which 
 she had lived as a child had been within the California 
 state line. 
 
 She was thinking of this as she went slowly down 
 to the shore to see that the boat was made secure, and 
 at times she cast a half regretful glance at the sky and 
 the far, open water; it was a glorious day for a sail; 
 she felt cheated. 
 
 And then, still undecided, she passed between great 
 boulders, shutting out sea and sail, and emerged at the 
 shore as the boat ran into the little cove, and the 
 canvas hung limp for a moment, hiding the sailor until 
 she was quite close, but she halted in her tracks as the 
 man sprang ashore. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 209 
 
 " Caught ! " he remarked, ruefully. " I assure you I 
 did not mean to intrude on your Adamless Eden beyond 
 guiding your boat to your door." 
 
 "It is very kind of you, but Uncle Dacy should 
 
 not" 
 
 "He didn t, I assure you, he didn t, 1 said Sargent, 
 hastily. " He did your bidding ; got a handy man to do 
 lt) and I bought him off! The little coves of the 
 coast are a temptation, and I was really spoiling for 
 this sort of a sail just skimming the waves without 
 a time limit, or anyone expecting me at any point. I 
 felt like a pirate stealing your boat, but since I struck 
 no sunken reefs " 
 
 "You might have," and her voice held a warning. 
 " It is dangerous to make a first trip without a sailor 
 who knows the coast." 
 "But you sail alone!" 
 
 " I had for a teacher an old sailor who knew every 
 curve of the shore." 
 
 "No teacher loomed on the horizon for me," he 
 said, smiling, "and Mr. Dacy warned me against your 
 sort of a sailor." 
 
 "He was above reproach, when sober," she pro 
 tested, warmly, "but he was pretty old and had some 
 accident over on Squaw River, and never got over it. 
 I was trying to locate his granddaughter this morning, 
 but she has drifted to some other port, out of reach. 
 Aunt Dacy has her prejudices, but poor old Craig 
 
2io The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 could actually feel his way in the dark around these 
 reefs, sober or not! " 
 
 "And you doubt me acquiring such seamanship?" 
 
 " I doubt if it would be worth your while to attempt 
 it here," she said, demurely, and then as she noted 
 his quick, direct gaze she added, u It is a most 
 treacherous coast, Mr. Sargent." 
 
 " It does not look it, and it gives frank warning," 
 he replied. "The reefs are plainly visible." 
 
 " Perhaps not all," she said. u Don t fancy this 
 smooth bay is typical. There is neither wind nor sea 
 enough to show the white form over the sunken reefs. 
 It was your lucky day that you were not made victim." 
 
 " I see you mean to f righen me from making this 
 harbor again," he observed. She smiled, not unkindly, 
 but made no reply, and together for the second time 
 that day they walked together up from the water s 
 edge to the cliff above the sea. 
 
 "Will you come in?" she asked, politely, but he 
 smiled, and looked down at her, and shook his head. 
 
 "Thanks, no," and slight as was the relief in her 
 face, he saw it. " I am really a very bold, very per 
 sistent member of the family," he continued, " for I 
 wanted to give you that special copy of Twilight arid 
 plucked up courage after you left to bring it over. 
 Will you accept it, even though I can t tell you the 
 cargo or port of the shadow ship?" 
 
 Taking it from his pocket he held it out to her, and, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 211 
 
 after a scarcely perceptible hesitation, she took it 
 gravely, but did not lift her eyes to his. 
 
 " It is exquisite. I scarcely know how to thank you," 
 she said, her voice very even and very low. 
 
 " I will like to think of my Mexican story in the one 
 Mexican room on the shore," and then he looked at her 
 in silence a moment, and his voice was almost as low 
 and guarded as her own as he said, " No thanks are 
 due me, but if I only could be sure I have not spoiled 
 your joy in your boat, or your own little cove " 
 
 He half extended his hand, but she held the book in 
 both hers and looked up at him. 
 
 u Be sure," she said in grave courtesy, and with one 
 long look at her, he lifted his hat and turned away. 
 
 "Adios, Senor!" she said, softly, and walked slowly 
 up the path under the old trees. She halted at the steps 
 and looked after him as he swung around at the turn 
 of the high, wild hedge and, looking back, lifted his 
 
 hat. 
 
 She made no answering gesture, but stood with the 
 book clasped in her hands. The refrain of an old 
 Spanish song came to her, and she hummed it as she 
 turned away. 
 
 "Adios! adios! por siempre adios!" 
 
 She had felt that sooner or later they would be alone 
 
 with each other and that it would be in a way a test for 
 
 both. She scarcely dared think of how strangely he 
 
 must regard her conservative, almost repelling, man- 
 
212 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 ner. The book in her hand showed at least that he 
 was not resentful; in fact, he was big and generous, 
 and all things desirable, even though he must think 
 her a narrow prig, with not one spontaneous, generous 
 instinct. 
 
 Well, she told herself, she was glad it was settled 
 and done with, and before long she would be back in 
 the Manhattan studio, and away from the family circle 
 atmosphere, where every cousin s sweetheart had the 
 entree to one s own little harbor. 
 
 But she sang little snatches of Spanish songs as she 
 worked that day, and ever the recurring refrain 
 
 "Adios! adlos! por siempre adios/" 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 IN the early autumn, Hamilton Dacy, instructed, 
 warned, and encouraged by his wife, made his first 
 call at the new studio over which Monica Wayne was 
 enthusiastic. The light was all it should be, and the 
 gray, silvery walls with touches of black in the panel 
 ing gave it a Japanese effect restful to the eye, and 
 offering admirable setting for the studies in color 
 scattered about. 
 
 He had meant to see Monica early if possible, and 
 alone, and was rather dismayed at the vision of Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville, attended by Gilman, preceding him 
 into the foyer. 
 
 "You also coming to look at the new picture?" 
 asked Gilman, as the door was opened by Maum Rosa, 
 who smiled cordially at Mr. Dacy. 
 
 " Howdy, Rosa. No, I came to have a talk with the 
 painter of it did not know there was any special 
 picture on view." 
 
 "Yes," purred Mrs. Smythe-Orville, looking arch 
 and wise, "Mrs. Dacy told me. Since your family 
 artist allows no one else to be legal mistress of Castle- 
 mar, your protegee is offered the position for herself ! 
 Yours is the task to discover whether it is to be, or 
 
 213 
 
214 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 not to be, husband or no husband, divorce or 
 reconciliation." 
 
 " We have only been back a few days," observed 
 Dacy, non-committally. " Mrs. Dacy evidently forgot 
 this was a show day of any sort." 
 
 "No, sir, taint exactly a show day," volunteered 
 Rosa, " only Miss Nell was to meet friends here. Miss 
 Monica allowed to be back, but she has been detained. 
 The new picture is in the music room, if you all will 
 step in and wait a bit." 
 
 McLane Sargent entered and smiled at Dacy, who, 
 truth to tell, did not look glad to see him. 
 
 "Thanks, Rosa, I ll wait here," he said, settling 
 himself in a comfortable chair and eyeing Sargent, who 
 was greeting Mrs. Smythe-Orville. 
 
 "I ll wait, too," observed Sargent, "unless I am 
 intruding on a special invitation affair," and he glanced 
 about questioningly. 
 
 "Oh, not at all," volunteered Mrs. Smythe-Orville. 
 " I was to meet Mrs. Dacy a little later in the mission 
 rooms in this building. Mr. Oilman was good enough 
 to escort me. Mr. Dacy is here, I fancy, in the happy 
 role of peacemaker, while you are the only one 
 unaccounted for! " 
 
 There was a touch of sly malice in her tone, while 
 her smile was one that put Sargent on guard in a way 
 new and not pleasant. 
 
 He seated himself leisurely and smiled back at her. 
 
 " I followed my friend Dacy," he said, amiably. " I 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 215 
 
 usually have to follow someone to gain admittance to 
 this charming interior which does not prevent me 
 from coming if I have a vestige of an excuse." 
 
 "So I ve observed," and the long, blue eyes 
 regarded him through narrowed lids. 
 
 "So I ve noticed," he retorted, lightly. 
 
 "Well, since you are to marry into her husband s 
 family you are probably within the welcome circle," 
 decided Oilman, generously; but Sargent had crossed 
 the room and was examining a small-framed water 
 color of a typical southern cottage of the better sort. 
 
 "That s a charming thing," he observed; "live 
 oaks draped with Spanish moss and a dwelling abso 
 lutely covered with roses. Is it a real place?" he 
 asked, turning to Mr. Dacy, who nodded his head with 
 a baleful glance at the color study and then at Sargent. 
 
 " It s Monica s cottage down South all that s left 
 of her mother s estate. I never saw it, but know it is of 
 little value run to seed and not big enough to swing 
 
 a cat in." 
 
 "Why should she want to swing cats in it?" asked 
 Gilman, the latter squinting at the picture apprecia 
 tively. " I only hope the southern place you are trying 
 to win for me is half as picturesque." 
 
 " Picturesque ! " retorted Mr. Dacy. " It is a thou 
 sand acres and a mansion of twenty rooms ! " 
 
 "Have you never seen it?" queried Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville, wonderingly, and her blues eyes opened with 
 interest at this description of the estate. 
 
216 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Never. My branch of the family were aliens of 
 the North and never got a look-in after sixty-one. But 
 if I win the suit we will have a monster housewarming 
 down there. So consider yourselves all bespoken 
 for it" 
 
 " How nice," she murmured. " I wonder if we dare 
 look at the new picture without being properly intro 
 duced to it?" 
 
 " It is sure to be worth trying for," he agreed, and 
 they moved towards the music room, but the lady 
 halted at the entrance to admire some embroidered 
 hangings from Yucatan. Sargent, with his hands in 
 his pockets, remained before the little picture, regard 
 ing it curiously. Some houses convey an atmosphere of 
 their own, and this one had a charm and even a sort 
 of kinship with its owner alluring beauty half hidden 
 in the gray-green of festooned mosses. It was a veil, 
 suggesting unseen beauties beyond. 
 
 "And this is her home?" he said at last. 
 
 The slight query in the tone gave Mr. Dacy the 
 chance he needed to vent his impatience at the existing 
 state of affairs. 
 
 "It s her house; she never had a home," he stated, 
 irritably. " Carted west in her babyhood by a father 
 who was crazy over archaeology. He died, and Wayne 
 was on hand to comfort and play protector played 
 the devil doing it, too ! This is as much of a home as 
 she will ever have unless she listens to reason and 
 compromises. What s the matter with you? She 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 217 
 
 hasn t a dollar except what she earns. Do you want 
 to see her next door to beggary all her life ? " 
 
 " But her earnings will steadily grow greater, and 
 Hallet has spoken to you. He is in earnest. Even to 
 marry him would be better than " 
 
 "Better! Of course, it would be better; but she is 
 as recklessly improvident as her father before her; 
 sinking good, hard dollars in Mexican antiques. Hal- 
 let? no, she will never do so sensible a thing as to 
 marry him, any more than she would marry me, or 
 you!" 
 
 Sargent turned away and caught the glance of Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville, who loitered at the alcove. 
 
 " I knew they were quarreling about her," she said, 
 in a low tone, to Oilman, who slipped his hand through 
 her arm. 
 
 " Well, as they don t ask our advice we can view the 
 picture," he observed. " It will give them time to have 
 the row over before the hostess arrives." 
 
 Sargent watched them disappear, and then turned 
 to the other man. 
 
 " Dacy, you are not going to allow yourself to be 
 influenced by the family and try to argue her into 
 considering that damned business, are you?" he 
 demanded, as the others sat silent. 
 
 "Which do you consider damnable?" he asked at 
 last, " the divorce or the reconciliation? " 
 
 "The latter, of course. See here, Dacy, you can t 
 encourage it; you must not! I know your wife advo- 
 
2i8 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 cates it; she has some good orthodox ideas concerning 
 the duty of a wife oh, I heard her discuss it with 
 Nell and it was laughable, laughable when you con 
 sider the man. Your wife has no idea of his real 
 life, but men know. You know, and I know, and if 
 she was a sister of mine I would rather see her dead 
 than go back to him." 
 
 Mr. Dacy looked more than a little perturbed, and 
 the deep wrinkle between his brows changed his usu 
 ally good-natured face. He tapped the arm of the 
 chair with his finger tips as if telegraphing a message 
 for help in a dilemma. 
 
 "You appear greatly interested," he observed. 
 
 u I am," returned Sargent, briefly. 
 
 "Well, considering your slight knowledge of the 
 affair, I can t see but I suppose you are working for 
 Hallet?" 
 
 "Hallet s a good fellow," said Sargent, "and I 
 can t see, Dacy, how you can work against the divorce." 
 
 " But the devil of it is she has refused the thought 
 of divorce. It s an awful affair to have in the family," 
 he continued, miserably, "but Monica makes it worse 
 by insisting he shall marry no one but that companion 
 of his. Of course, that is impossible. He wants to 
 get back into society, and she would never be received." 
 
 " Though she is the better of the two ! " 
 
 " Well, one of them had to be the better, and no one 
 could easily be worse than Wayne," observed Dacy, 
 somberly. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 219 
 
 The voice of Mrs. Wayne came to them speaking 
 to someone in the hall, and the eyes of the two men 
 met with a sort of shock. It was a moment for decision 
 and they would no longer be alone for quiet discus 
 sion. Monica Wayne was in the music room greeting 
 the others, and already they were all approaching the 
 studio. 
 
 "Give it up, won t you?" asked Sargent, earnestly. 
 " Give it up. Dacy, you can t do it! " 
 
 "Are you scolding Uncle Dacy?" asked Monica 
 from the doorway, and she smiled as she patted Dacy s 
 shoulder protectingly. " Don t you allow him ! I have 
 observed," she added, with a glance of mischief at Sar 
 gent, " that he is a very self-willed, dominating person, 
 unless one is rigidly severe with him." 
 
 "Oh, Madam Monica, I protest!" 
 
 "Yes, you are," she insisted, "and the entire family 
 must unite in some method of discipline for the new 
 member, else the flattering public may spoil him." She 
 was smiling as she looked at him over her shoulder, 
 "And since to marry Nell will make you a cousin of 
 
 mine " 
 
 " So you have kindly reminded me before," he ob 
 served in the same light tone. " Is it to include me in 
 the family, or keep me at a distance?" 
 
 She was removing a white cobweb veil from her 
 hat and her face was turned away, but the others 
 laughed, and Mrs. Smythe-Orville looked archly at 
 Sargent. 
 
22O The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " The latter, of course," she said, with mock severity. 
 "Mrs. Wayne wouldn t offer to be even a sister to a 
 
 man." 
 
 " I should hope not," volunteered Gilman. " Sisters 
 we have by the dozen, but a cousin s a different thing! " 
 
 " I am sure this cousin will be different," ventured 
 Sargent; but Mrs. Wayne smiled without looking at 
 him, and sat on the arm of Dacy s chair. 
 
 " I m not at all sure of that," she remarked, and then 
 patted Dacy s bald head. " What was he doing to you, 
 you poor dear?" 
 
 u Oh, giving a lawyer legal advice," grumbled Dacy. 
 "Offering me some pretty ideas from his collection." 
 
 "Are they to be accepted?" asked Sargent, crisply, 
 and the other jerked himself out of the chair like an 
 irritable boy, and reached for his hat. 
 
 "I suppose so, I suppose so. Confound the busi 
 ness! Monica, I m going." 
 
 Monica Wayne, amazed, looked from Dacy to Sar 
 gent, and then back to Dacy, who halted in the door 
 and said " Good Lord ! " very fervently. 
 
 His wife was coming along the hall and the poor 
 man felt that he was between the devil and the very 
 deep sea. 
 
 "It s no use, Martha; the case is off the docket so 
 far as I am concerned. I m going. You air your own 
 arguments ! " 
 
 McLane Sargent grasped his hand heartily, but he 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 221 
 
 fairly broke away, while Mrs. Dacy halted in the door, 
 staring after him with decided disapproval. 
 
 "Well, of all the " 
 
 " I 11 not be home to dinner, Martha," came back 
 her husband s voice as he reached the elevator. 
 
 " I m not surprised at that decision," remarked Mrs. 
 Dacy as she came slowly in, nodded to the others and 
 touched Monica s cheek with a little peck of a kiss. 
 " What was he saying to you, Monica ? " 
 
 " Not anything." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 Monica, perplexed, shook her head but looked at 
 Sargent, who, after one quick glance at her, turned to 
 Mrs. Dacy and drew forward a chair, into which she 
 sank. 
 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville smiled between half-closed 
 lids. 
 
 " I have an impression that Mr. Sargent threatened 
 him with instant annihilation if he even made an 
 attempt to speak to her," she observed. " Modern 
 chivalry, eager to protect the lady in the case from 
 every man except " 
 
 She halted at a look from Sargent and made a little 
 amused gesture of fear, smiling archly at Gilman as 
 she did so. 
 
 Sargent gave her no further heed but turned to Mrs. 
 Dacy. 
 
 " It is quite true that I did advise Mr. Dacy concern- 
 
222 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 ing a family matter and he has acted on the advice. 
 As you and I," he added, smilingly, u are to meet again 
 soon we will have an opportunity to talk it over. I 
 trust I have not brought discord within your beautiful 
 walls," and he bowed to Monica Wayne, who bent her 
 head slightly in acknowledgment but made no reply. 
 She still stood where Dacy left her, perplexed and 
 curious. 
 
 4 This is all very interesting," she said, with a little 
 shrug. "They come in here, pow-wow at each other, 
 and vanish. I seem to be the only one who does not 
 comprehend a word of it." 
 
 Mrs. Dacy untied her bonnet strings and looked as 
 if she would like to unfasten a collar for greater breath 
 to express her exasperation. 
 
 " I sent Hamilton Dacy here with a family letter 
 you needn t go, Fannie it s not so confidential," 
 she added as Gilman ostentatiously was about to lead 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville to the music room. 
 
 "The letter was from Italy," she continued, and put 
 up a hand in protest as Monica turned away wearily. 
 " It contained a really touching plea, my dear, and a 
 legal proposition. Your own establishment, dear. 
 Your own in every way, and an allowance that is 
 princely. Someone has told him you have developed 
 into quite a beauty and he was so interested to hear it; 
 it really seems as if he only remembers you as a sort 
 of ugly duckling. Well, the letter was charming 
 Glyndon always did express himself admirably and 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 223 
 
 McLane Sargent has interfered in some way and kept 
 Hamilton from reading it to you." 
 
 Monica Wayne looked at her incredulously. 
 
 "Mr. Sargent interfered?" 
 
 "You heard him. I never knew a clever man could 
 be so stupid. It would be worth his while to be nice 
 to Glyndon. He and Elinor are full cousins, and his 
 wedding present would be worth while ! " 
 
 Maum Rosa had just opened the door for Miss Mit- 
 ford and Tony Allen, but no one noticed their entrance 
 until the young lady heaved a ponderous sigh, at which 
 her aunt turned with a start and viewed her with 
 displeasure. 
 
 "Wedding presents," breathed the bride-elect, 
 "haunting thought." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said her aunt, sharply. "If no one 
 gave you any you would be furious." 
 
 " No doubt you re right," agreed the girl, remov 
 ing her hat and fluffing her fair hair. " How stunning 
 you look in that garnet and white, Monica ! Waiting 
 forme?" 
 
 "No, I was detained downtown; only just got in," 
 returned Mrs. Wayne, absently folding the veil. 
 " Pardon me; I will be back directly." 
 
 Mrs. Dacy watched her as she went thoughtfully out 
 and across the music room to her dressing room, where 
 Maum Rosa waited for her. The fact that Monica 
 had made no retort concerning Glyndon was encour 
 aging, and Glyndon s aunt settled back in her chair 
 
224 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 complacently. It would be a victory to bring success 
 out of Hamilton s failure ! 
 
 " Monica seemed really impressed by what I 
 revealed to her," she said aside to Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville. "Elinor, I thought Lulu was with you and 
 Tony." 
 
 Miss Mitford, who was viewing her own unfinished 
 portrait from various angles, smiled at the obvious 
 suggestion that even Lulu as a chaperone might assist 
 the proprieties. 
 
 " She was with us until we met Joe," was the 
 serene reply, at which Mrs. Smythe-Orville sighed 
 impatiently. 
 
 "That boy again! Not but what he is a dear boy, 
 of course," she added, "and I suppose it is regarded 
 as all right over here, but on the other side I would 
 not dream of allowing her to walk alone with a young 
 man!" 
 
 "They don t dream about it here, dear lady," said 
 Tony Allen, who was adjusting the easel for the por 
 trait. "They just saunter along, wide awake!" 
 
 "That s it," retorted Oilman ; "youth today has no 
 illusions. Logic is cultivated and Romance hides her 
 head!" 
 
 "I really can t see," observed Mrs. Dacy as she 
 arose to look at the picture, " why you persist in seek 
 ing romance when you are so certain it can t be found." 
 
 "All the fault of the ah scientist who examined 
 this," announced Tony, extending his hand in mock 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 22$ 
 
 blessing above Oilman s head. u He really got you 
 into trouble, Oilman: spoiled a good reporter. You 
 have never done a day s work since." 
 
 "What," demanded Oilman, with a tragic scowl, 
 "not work! I don t have to chase the almighty dollar 
 now, but what about my notes twelve books? Little 
 you, frivolous idler, know." 
 
 "He doesn t know a thing about it, Gillie," said 
 Miss Mitford, soothingly. " But why don t you select 
 a theme to string all those good things on? Condense 
 your twelve books into one, and give the public a 
 treat?" 
 
 " Great idea," agreed Oilman, beaming under her 
 interest. "I ve thought of it. IVe studied thor 
 oughly for three months the construction of the drama, 
 with that very end in view." 
 
 "All that time?" asked Tony, but Oilman ignored 
 the flippant, and directed his discourse to the lady. 
 
 " I am only delayed now by one obstacle, apparently 
 a trifle, yet still an obstacle. Got all the good things 
 in these little books, and am at present looking for a 
 character good enough to say them all." 
 
 " Oh, my genius ! " grinned Tony. "We 11 all be so 
 proud to know you some day! " 
 
 " Don t mind him, Gillie." 
 
 "N there are some of us who don t mean to wait 
 until some day," said Mrs. Smythe-Orville, sweetly, 
 and Gilman promptly seated himself beside her, and 
 continued to beam under appreciative eyes. 
 
226 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " My prophetic soul assures me you would prove 
 adorable even as a mother-in-law," he confided to 
 her, and Tony sat up very straight and stared, and 
 then followed Nell into the music room. 
 
 "For the love of Kelly! which of the two is he the 
 lottery ticket for? I thought it was herself." 
 
 "So it is, unless there is higher game in sight," 
 answered the girl, bluntly. " She means to win Gillie, 
 and his money, somehow you ll see. Of course, if 
 Monica gets a divorce she still has hopes of Glyndon 
 though she pretends she is horribly shocked by his 
 duplicity Fannie Smith shocked," and she smiled at 
 the idea. " She would hand Lulu over to either of 
 those men, and take the other herself if it could be 
 managed." 
 
 "But Oilman " 
 
 " Is a goose, a dear goose. Fannie is already inti 
 mating that Lulu, dear child, thinks him ideal. Lulu 
 doesn t, but Lulu has learned not to say so. She is 
 more than afraid of being taken back to Europe, and 
 Gillie would be better than that. Oh, there is a lot 
 going on that you don t see." 
 
 " Naturally, when looking at you." 
 
 "Well! that s the limit for today," said the young 
 lady, pettishly, crashing her fingers into the piano keys 
 and starting a rattling military quickstep. "When 
 looking at me there s nothing visible to the naked 
 eye." 
 
 "Oh, see here," began Tony, but she turned her 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 227 
 
 head defiantly and gave all her attention to the 
 kettledrum part of the orchestration. 
 
 " Can t see my own sight is bad," she stated at 
 last. 
 
 "But I didn t mean" 
 
 "Oh, didn t you? You ve been actually rude all 
 morning." 
 
 "Why, Nell!" 
 
 " Yes, you have, too. You joked and made game of 
 wedding presents, and and had no regard for my 
 feelings at all." 
 
 "Nell, I never" 
 
 "Didn t you suggest a * crazy room for the 
 duplicates and undesirable? and didn t you " 
 
 "Oh, damn!" growled Tony, in utter exasperation. 
 "I m tired of this and shall leave town tomorrow!" 
 
 "Elinor," said Mrs. Dacy, as the two emerged 
 from the music room after a final crash on the keys. 
 " I should think you get quarreling enough in your 
 disagreements with McLane Sargent for an engaged 
 couple!" and her expression suggested that words 
 failed. The other two smiled at each other. Nell 
 caught them at it and was even more furious. She 
 flounced back into the music room with a scornful 
 glance at Tony, but, for once, it did not reduce him to 
 humility as usual. He walked over to the piano and 
 talked to her back when she whirled on the piano stool. 
 
 "I mean it," he said, quietly. "You ve had time 
 enough to decide. I 11 go tomorrow. You can come 
 
228 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 with me if you will, but I shan t ask you. You know 
 where you belong. You decide." 
 
 Then he walked from the alcove to Mrs. Dacy. 
 
 " I m taking a run out of town, and she will only 
 have a luckier man to quarrel with," he said. " Good- 
 by, I ll not wait for Mrs. Wayne; she ll forgive me." 
 
 He nodded to the other two and in three strides 
 was out of the door. Miss Mitford shrugged her 
 shoulders and seated herself petulantly in the model 
 chair. 
 
 " It s horrible to be afflicted by a temper like 
 Tony s," she remarked. No one made any comment, 
 which she regarded as impolite. 
 
 "Where is that lady of the paint brushes?" she 
 demanded at last. "I came to look pretty for my 
 picture." 
 
 Gilman had sauntered to the window, looking down 
 into the street, and chuckled as the strains of a hand 
 organ came up to him. 
 
 "There are your lost cherubs," he remarked, and 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville uttered a little cry of protest as 
 she glanced the way he pointed. 
 
 "Horrors! Lulu and that boy following a hand 
 organ." 
 
 " But they are only listening with the children on 
 the sidewalk," said Gilman, soothingly. He thought it 
 looked very childlike and unsophisticated, and was 
 making a note in the little red book. 
 
 But Mrs. Smythe-Orville, failing in her efforts to 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 229 
 
 attract their attention, started with determination for 
 the hall. 
 
 " They are quite, quite capable of dancing with the 
 children on the sidewalk," she said, complainingly, and 
 Oilman picked up his hat. 
 
 "I shall follow, to to protect them," he ventured, 
 lamely. "She doesn t like independence for women." 
 
 "Not for other women!" retorted Miss Mitford, 
 whose temper was not inclined to charity, and who 
 expected a lecture from her aunt the minute they were 
 alone. 
 
 But whatever the intentions of the lady might have 
 been, they were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. 
 Wayne, who had changed her street dress to a work 
 ing robe of white, over which was thrown a long gown 
 or apron of scarlet; a sort of elaboration of the Yuca 
 tan native dress in that it was of one piece of thin 
 material and enveloped her, hanging in straight 
 sculpturesque lines to her feet, and fastened under the 
 arms by a lacing of cord. 
 
 She carried a prepared palette and brushes and 
 glanced around, noting the absence of the others, but 
 made no comment. 
 
 "Well, you must have gone into a trance," remarked 
 Nell, "but you have come out of it looking lovely. 
 The rest have all faded away." 
 
 ;< Yes, I was talking to Tony in the dining room. 
 He came back to say good-by." 
 
 " Oh, indeed. Say, Monica, that red work apron or 
 
230 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 gown, or whatever you call it, is great. I wonder if I 
 could not have an opera cloak on those lines, fastened 
 on the shoulder?" 
 
 " Probably, but it would never be popular with 
 dressmakers too simple." 
 
 Mrs. Dacy regarded her approvingly as she looked 
 up from a little list she was making of items to be 
 attended to that is, as approvingly as she could pos 
 sibly look on a woman of the Wayne family in a work 
 ing garb. She was already making mentally little 
 social plans for the day when the Glyndon Waynes 
 would entertain as a woman of the name should. 
 
 She decided to use her influence against the con 
 tinuance of this chummy studio atmosphere apparently 
 favored by Monica, or at least condoned by her. It 
 was all very well for the relatives, but Monica did not 
 apparently mind Tony or Oilman dropping in any free 
 hour, and if the door was closed to one it was closed 
 to all. 
 
 But Glyndon, of course, would not allow his wife to 
 retain a separate studio where such freedom could be 
 given that would be one comforting thought. It 
 had been quite a task for the family, that is for Mrs. 
 Dacy, to keep up the pretense that Mrs. Wayne was 
 merely an enthusiast on all ecclesiastical art work, and 
 was devoting her days to it irrespective of the prices 
 to be earned; in fact, more than one acquaintance was 
 left under the impression that the long months spent 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 231 
 
 by Monica in Spain or in Old Mexico were actually 
 lived somewhere on the continent with her husband. 
 
 Mrs. Dacy had a way of saying, "I really don t 
 know where they are just now. Monica sent Elinor a 
 pretty scarf from Spain lately, but there are so many 
 points of interest to be seen and not much time for 
 letters." 
 
 Which, of course, was all perfectly true, and bold 
 would be the one who could ask bluntly, "But are 
 they living together?" 
 
 So she had a complacent feeling as she watched 
 Monica silently posing Nell, nodding approval and 
 touching the canvas with strokes, now sure, now 
 doubtful, but ever with a thoughtful, absorbed look, 
 not conducive to conversation and Miss Mitford 
 was a bit thoughtful herself. 
 
 Mrs. Dacy stood the silence until she had penciled 
 the last little item, and then, folding her tablets, fast 
 ened her bonnet strings preparatory to leaving. She 
 was a bit ostentatious in her endeavor to attract the 
 attention of Monica, but without avail. It was the 
 artist now, and not a hostess, who had eyes only for the 
 model and the canvas. 
 
 "Well, Monica?" said Mrs. Dacy at last. 
 
 "Well?" but she did not look up from her work. 
 
 "What do you mean to do?" queried the other, 
 with as mild a mien as an irritated lady could assume. 
 
 "I mean to keep on at this portrait if fortune 
 
 favors me." 
 
232 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "What do you mean to do concerning Glyndon s 
 letter?" 
 
 "That is about as tiresome a subject as you could 
 carry around with you." The smile of Monica was 
 rather weary and there was a rebellious look in the 
 deep eyes. " I have no moments left to think of your 
 nephew, Aunt Dacy. He made his choice years ago, 
 and I am happy to abide by it." 
 
 "How can you be so relentless? And if he is truly 
 repentant for leaving " 
 
 "For leaving?" and Monica turned on her with a 
 strange look. "Have you ever had the fancy that I 
 held the slightest feeling of resentment for that? 
 Well, I 11 probably shatter a fond illusion, but I 
 danced for joy the day he went away. I d rather live 
 my life with a Digger Indian!" 
 
 "Monica!" 
 
 " It s for marrying me I can t forgive him." 
 
 " Can t forgive a man for falling in love with you? " 
 asked Nell. 
 
 "Love!" repeated the other, but there was more 
 disgust than sentiment in her tone. 
 
 " Monica, you 11 be unhappy," decided the girl, with 
 frowning owl-like wisdom. "You expect too much of 
 humanity." 
 
 "That is true," agreed Mrs. Dacy, glad of this 
 unlocked for assistance. "All men have to be forgiven 
 
 some sins." 
 
 And all women are ready to forgive them sins 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 233 
 
 against other women," she observed, with a smile of 
 contempt. 
 
 "But, my dear child," said Mrs. Dacy, solemnly, 
 " if you never forgive, how can you possibly hope for 
 forgiveness?" 
 
 "Well, since you make it a personal question," 
 retorted Monica, desperately, "I do not!" 
 
 " Monica ! " and Nell forgot her pose. 
 
 " Not hope for forgiveness of sins 1 " and the voice 
 of Mrs. Dacy was most grave. Monica saw the best 
 light of the day going while they decided her 
 heterodoxy. 
 
 " I do not," she stated, wearily. " Nell, do get back 
 into position; also I never expect to be too much of a 
 coward to assume the responsibility of my own acts. 
 If I do an injustice to to John Jones I ll go 
 squarely and make amends if I can, or to Mrs. Jones 
 and the little Joneses in case I Ve slaughtered Johnny ! 
 That s my idea of atonement instead of asking for 
 giveness of some unseen lawmaker. My sins will have 
 to rest on my own head;" and then, turning to Mrs. 
 Dacy, she added, mischievously, " I shan t even lay 
 the blame of them on your dear, long-cherished, 
 overworked devil! " 
 
 She dropped her voice in the mockery of fear as she 
 whispered the final word, and laughed at the horror in 
 Mrs. Dacy s face. 
 
 " Monica ! " cried that extremely shocked lady. " I 
 am confident that if any judge on the bench heard 
 
234 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 those sentiments of yours, Glyndon Wayne would be 
 granted a divorce without question. You would be 
 considered a wicked woman. I am positively afraid to 
 think of your future life." 
 
 "It s provided for," said Monica, with a certain 
 impish delight. " Is it not written that the incredulous 
 wife may be saved by the faith of the husband? Well, 
 in that case, I am quite secure so long as I object to a 
 divorce, for my husband is quite orthodox, a perfect 
 Solomon in his general tendencies " 
 
 She ceased speaking and laughed as Mrs. Dacy gath 
 ered up her shocked dignity and walked out of the 
 room. Nell looked at Monica with a certain astonish 
 ment; not so much at the words as at her manner. 
 She had never before seen her in this attitude of reck 
 less mischief crossed by somber defiance against popu 
 lar opinion, and she wondered if this was what Glyn 
 meant when he mentioned her in his letter as a 
 " scrawny, evil-tempered young imp " ? Nell had 
 never seen any evidence of her evil temper, but she 
 could imagine any sort of temper back of the gay 
 insolence by which Mrs. Dacy had been sent shocked 
 and protesting from the room. 
 
 ; You are smashing Aunt Martha s dearest hopes to 
 smithereens," she observed. 
 
 " If so she will probably not trouble me again con 
 cerning her pet nephew, and we may get a bit of work 
 done. This has been the most awful day! Makes 
 one wonder what planets are whirling the wrong way 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 235 
 
 for this little group of people; also it decides me I 
 can t allow the open-door more than once in three 
 months." 
 
 "Oh, well, it couldn t be as bad as this again/ said 
 Nell, consolingly. "You see everyone is coming back 
 to town at once and, of course, wants to see you, and 
 this word from Glyn has stirred them all up more or 
 less. He is the moneyed one of the family now and 
 listen, Monica, if you won t make up with him, why 
 not apply for the divorce and let him go ? That little 
 fancy for Lulu was only a flash in the pan, and I guess 
 Fannie lit the fire and did all the blowing. I know by 
 Glyn s letters the fire is dead and the fancy gone. Don t 
 let yourself be tied to him on account of anyone. Let 
 the other women look after themselves you are not 
 your sisters keeper." 
 
 "No," agreed Monica, with a touch of bitterness, 
 "no one seems to be." 
 
 " Oh, don t get deadly serious over it, or you 11 land 
 in the suffragette ranks, and all life will be one grand, 
 sweet row," warned Nell. " Fannie is earnestly con 
 sidering it just now with a view to the social ladder, 
 and if she can only land money enough she will go up 
 quite a few rungs now what s this?" 
 
 It was Mr. Dacy, leading Lulu, who looked like a 
 caught truant, yet smiled at her captor. 
 
 "Another law case to settle," he announced, point 
 ing to her as to a terrible example. " Insubordination ! 
 Threatens she will elope with the first man who asks 
 
236 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 her unless she is allowed to follow organ-grinders and 
 generally misbehave." 
 
 " Why, Lulu ! " But the chiding of Monica Wayne 
 was so kindly, and her smile so fond, that Lulu found 
 all the encouragement she needed to state her case. 
 
 "It wasn t the organ grinder; it was Joe she was 
 hitting at," she burst out, wrathfully. "If Joe had as 
 much money as she thinks Mr. Oilman is going to have, 
 there wouldn t be such a row about it. I will run off 
 and marry him, you 11 see ! " 
 
 Monica and Nell tried to look grave at this avowal, 
 but failed. In the midst of their merriment Mr. Dacy 
 held up his finger warningly. 
 
 " You know what your mama threatened." 
 
 " What was threatened? " asked Monica. 
 
 " Oh, mama tried to scare me by saying the law 
 would allow her to put a man in jail if he eloped with 
 me before I was of age. Could she?" 
 
 "If he married you, yes. That would be kidnap 
 ping a minor by the law." 
 
 "Even if I wanted to go?" demanded Lulu, sulkily. 
 But Dacy shook his head, smiling at her teasingly. 
 
 " The wishes of a minor would not be considered. 
 You could not marry legally, any more than you could 
 dispose of property legally, until you are of age." 
 
 " I have no property now," said Lulu, with a slight 
 grimace; and they all knew that she might have had if 
 her father s trust in his pretty new wife had not been 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 237 
 
 so absolute. The trips abroad had eaten up the very 
 modest competence. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Dacy, not inclined to linger over 
 this subject, " we will say then your doll, or a ring from 
 your finger." 
 
 "Why, I haven t had a doll for a whole year!" 
 burst out Lulu, rather aggrieved that he could not 
 perceive the doll days were passed. "Joe in jail if he 
 marries me! But mama will marry me to one of her 
 pets if I don t elope, you ll see!" Then a brilliant 
 idea suggested itself, and she flashed it on the surprised 
 lawyer. 
 
 " Suppose, suppose I ran away with, with someone, 
 and he refused to marry me until I was of age, then 
 what?" 
 
 Mr. Dacy looked uncomfortable, and Nell giggled 
 at his embarrassment. 
 
 "Well," demanded the terrible child, "would that 
 be kidnaping a minor by the law ?" 
 
 "N no," replied Mr. Dacy, wishing himself well 
 out of it; " it would not be exactly kidnaping." 
 
 " Oh, I suppose that would be murder and sudden 
 death," said Lulu, wrathfully. "Well, I hope there is 
 no particular penalty against me dying an old maid." 
 
 Nell laughed heartily, as she flounced out of the 
 studio, but Monica looked at Mr. Dacy. 
 
 "Why did you not answer her question, Uncle 
 Dacy?" 
 
 "How could I? The law varies in different states. 
 
238 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Until a comparatively recent date the New York law 
 held that if there was no marriage there was no crimi 
 nal case against the man. He would not be the one 
 held responsible. The same law holds in thirty-six 
 states today. It is not a thing you can easily explain 
 to a child." 
 
 Nell forgot her pose, and Monica forgot her 
 painting as she stared at him. 
 
 " Do you mean that in any of our states today the 
 law imposes a penalty if a man marries a girl under 
 age without consent of guardian, but protects that 
 same man and throws the blame on her if he wins 
 her away under any pretense, any promise, and does 
 not marry her?" 
 
 Yes," agreed Mr. Dacy, uncomfortably. "If she 
 is over ten, or twelve, or sixteen, and goes of her own 
 will. The age limit varies in different states." 
 
 "But this seems so incredible!" she persisted. "A 
 child who could not legally dispose of her own doll 
 or a ring from her finger ! An American law that with 
 draws protection from a girl years before it acknowl 
 edges her as mentally capable of protecting her own 
 interests! Then it is not childhood and womanhood 
 the law is meant to protect, but property and the 
 men who make such laws ! " 
 
 "But Monica" 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Dacy," she interrupted, "you have no 
 daughters. Evidently none of the statesmen who 
 framed those laws had daughters, or sisters, either!" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 239 
 
 "Monica, you don t understand! The average 
 woman has no idea of the reasons, the technicalities, 
 the" 
 
 "The average woman does not know such laws 
 exist. If she did she would be justified in contempt for 
 every court in the land where girlhood was not pro 
 tected. Oh, their wise laws, the laws to protect the 
 criminal the laws it is virtue in a man to break!" 
 
 " Good Lord, Monica ! " burst out the harassed gen 
 tleman. "All this sounds as if you had turned into a 
 suffragette over night ! " 
 
 " I have no time for politics, and a bit of driftwood 
 like me can t always anchor long enough to vote," she 
 replied, " but this revelation has shocked me into won 
 der that women do not take up that issue and carry it 
 on their banners in every state where such laws exist." 
 
 "I guess it s just as well you keep out of their 
 ranks," he observed, mopping his brow. "You d be 
 dynamite let loose among the doves. A good day to 
 you ! This is my last call until tomorrow," and, shak 
 ing his head, he passed into the hall and congratulated 
 himself on at least one piece of good luck as he was 
 going down in the elevator he passed Mrs. Dacy in 
 another one going up ! 
 
 He did not believe his wife had ever heard of the 
 law under discussion, and it was just as well. He 
 thanked his lucky stars that she did not interest herself 
 in law. Monica was quite enough to contend with 
 she was prone to unexpected and most erratic opinions. 
 
240 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 It was very disconcerting. She did not seem to have 
 the regard she should for any of the established rules. 
 He presumed it was because of her youth having been 
 lived in those lawless Spanish- American districts a 
 very awkward addition to a New England family! 
 Much as he liked Monica, he was not always comfort 
 able with her; her mental attitude towards many things 
 was, to put it mildly, peculiar. That decision of hers 
 about the divorce was a case in point. He fully agreed 
 with his wife that it would be the crowning scandal to 
 have Glyndon Wayne marry the woman he went 
 abroad with. 
 
 At times Dacy considered that the family had almost 
 a grievance against Sargent for that peculiar Mexican 
 story. If it had not been written, he wondered if Mon 
 ica would have been aroused to take that attitude about 
 the woman in the case. In several ways she was 
 becoming difficult to understand. She was not quite 
 the care-free comrade she had been only a summer 
 ago. After all her work on that bungalow he noticed 
 that she had grown restless, and he would not be at all 
 surprised if it was put on the market before another 
 year went by. He wished with all his heart she would 
 do the sensible thing any other woman would do 
 accept Wayne s settlement and live rationally in the 
 same house with him for the sake of appearances. Her 
 attitude was absurd in the extreme, and he was the 
 more assured of the absurdity of it as he left her studio 
 with her other absurd idea fresh in his mind. Of 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 241 
 
 course, a man could not argue such cases with a girl 
 like that, they were usually so illogical; but if Monica 
 interested herself at all, she was more than illogical 
 she had no respect for any institution simply on the 
 grounds of its acceptance by the majority. It had to be 
 weighed and measured in her own scales; in fact, she 
 was dangerously near to being anarchistic, and a girl 
 like that is a firebrand in a family. He wished she was 
 safely settled in life. 
 
 In fact, she made him think of her all the way down 
 to his club, and he wished he had left Lulu to her fate 
 with Mrs. Smythe-Orville, for that child was constantly 
 getting one into hot water. He could see that Monica 
 had been more than a little impressed by that age limit 
 question. At any rate, he could thank the gods that 
 she was not a suffrage worker. He was convinced that 
 enough women of that temperament would undermine 
 the constitution of the United States if ever they 
 arrived at organization, for which, of course, they were 
 mentally and emotionally unfit 
 
 Mrs. Dacy passed Rosa at the door and hastened 
 along the hall to the studio, where Monica was taking 
 all advantage possible of the light remaining. 
 
 "Can I get a pencil here?" she asked. "I ve 
 broken mine and am in a dilemma ; or will you write a 
 line for me on this card? Gloves make it difficult." 
 
 Monica took a pencil from the shelf of the easel and 
 the visiting card from Mrs. Dacy. 
 
 "Just * regret that I must postpone meeting until 
 
242 The IV oman of the Twilight 
 
 tomorrow, 11:30, " she suggested. "Thanks," she 
 said, as Monica wrote the desired message. " I made 
 two engagements for the same hour, and as one is a 
 foreign mission affair I must postpone the other." 
 
 "Will you have tea? Rosa is bringing it in now." 
 
 " No, I am having tea in the mission rooms with 
 Fannie and Lulu, but I will get Rosa to fasten my 
 boot; the lace is untied." Then she glanced at the pic 
 ture on the easel. "It is lovely," she conceded, "but I 
 am angry with you; your ideas are simply shocking." 
 
 Monica smiled after the lady as she went out 
 through the music room to find Rosa. 
 
 " I wish they would all become so angry that they 
 would allow me to get some work done," she observed. 
 " Your next day to pose I shall tack a large placard on 
 the door, Not at home to the family. You are the 
 honey around which the flies all buzz, and I can t be 
 interrupted oh, how do you do, Mr. Hallet? Glad 
 to see you." 
 
 She and Nell exchanged amused glances as Hallet 
 entered, followed by Sargent. She shook hands with 
 Hallet and nodded to Sargent almost without looking 
 at him and laid aside the brushes as Rosa entered 
 with the tea tray. 
 
 While Hallet crossed to Nell and looked at the por 
 trait, Sargent halted at the tea table and regarded 
 Mrs. Wayne with a gaze so steady that, after one 
 fleeting glance at him, the pouring of tea absorbed all 
 of her attention, and she bit her lip in nervous impa- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 243 
 
 tience at the certainty that the color was flaming over 
 her face, and that even her bent head could not 
 conceal it. 
 
 " So there are people with whom you do shake hands 
 occasionally," he remarked. 
 
 At the words the color faded, she raised her head 
 slowly, and it was with her usual guardedly polite 
 smile she met his gaze and offered him tea. 
 
 " I believe I have clasped hands with you, have I 
 not?" 
 
 "Once," he assented. "It was the first time we 
 met. You were never so gracious again to me." 
 
 She had no quick retort to his bitter words. He 
 knew she avoided him at every turn, and she knew he 
 knew it. There was nothing to say. 
 
 Hallet carried tea to Nell, and Monica, after all 
 had been served, took her cup to the extreme end of the 
 studio, studying the portrait from there ; and then for 
 getting tea, picked up the brushes, making a slight 
 change in the drawing, and thus was back at the work 
 instead of having a tete-a-tete with the man whose 
 strange, puzzled gaze affected her more than it would 
 be wise to let him guess. 
 
 " Oh, Lane, I utterly forgot to meet you as we had 
 planned," said Nell, contritely; but he smiled at her 
 absently, and turned his attention to the work on the 
 portrait. 
 
 " It really did not matter," he returned with the 
 careless desire to appear amiable; but Nell noted the 
 
244 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 carelessness, if not the amiability, and her glance 
 suggested that she was more than usually piqued. 
 
 " Certainly not," she remarked, with humorous sar 
 casm. "There is no feminine creature in Christendom 
 worth devoting your thoughts to except your Twilight 
 Lady of the love letters and the drawings when you 
 find her." 
 
 "Nell!" and the tone of Sargent was imperative, 
 though low. 
 
 "Love letters? Interesting subject," said Hallet, 
 with a desire to quell the rising storm in Nell s face, 
 but he was too late. The quarrel with Tony had left 
 her irritable and nervous, and at the corrective note in 
 Sargent s utterance of her name all the barriers of 
 restraint were down. 
 
 " You need not shout at me like that," she protested, 
 defiantly, "for it s no secret. They both," and her 
 wide gesture included Monica and Hallet, "know all 
 about it." 
 
 "They know?" and Sargent s eyes were hard and 
 dark in a flash. 
 
 " I told them," she announced, lightly. " It was too 
 pretty a romance to keep. I m going to tell it to Gillie 
 for his novel, or play, or whatever that child of his 
 brain is to be." 
 
 " I shall have to correct your statement as to * love 
 letters/ " said Sargent, coldly. " The * letters of a lady 
 would be a more accurate description." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 245 
 
 " Nell, quit your quarreling, and get back into posi 
 tion, please," suggested Monica. "There is still a bit 
 of light. 1 
 
 Nell returned to the chair sulkily, gave her cup to 
 Hallet, and an injured glance to Sargent. 
 
 "Of course, she did not write the word love all 
 over them," she conceded; "it was merely a mental 
 affinity. Oh, yes, we Ve all met them." 
 
 " Remember, please, that I did not meet this one." 
 
 "Or," guessed Nell, keenly, "you wouldn t be 
 here?" 
 
 " Probably not," he conceded, impatiently. 
 
 "You see," and the sweep of Nell s arms called 
 heaven and earth to witness, " that s the way he makes 
 love to me ! " 
 
 "Was there an actual lady in the case?" asked 
 Hallet. 
 
 " There was," assented Sargent, " and I am figura 
 tively at her feet for ever making mention of those 
 first letters concerning the drawings. She wrote the 
 most beautiful letters I have ever read. She illustrated 
 that book of mine as if she had known all the cited 
 bits of that coast. I shall be in her debt so long as I 
 live." 
 
 " And you never even learned her name ? " 
 
 "Never; the name was understood to be assumed. 
 There was some family reason why she could not be 
 known as the illustrator of that story. After the publi- 
 
246 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 cation and reproduction details were settled, the lady 
 ceased the correspondence. All I could ever identify 
 her by would be the writing." 
 
 "Then you have the letters?" asked Hallet, as he 
 picked up the mahl-stick Monica had let fall. She was 
 trying to work despite the clash of the two minds and 
 Nell s restlessness. 
 
 " Certainly I have the letters ; my only chance of ever 
 finding her." 
 
 "You see," announced Nell in triumph, "he is still 
 looking for her! " 
 
 " But there are so many so very many persons 
 who write alike," observed Monica, " it would be 
 unfair to make that the only test." 
 
 " I should make no mistake," said Sargent, stub 
 bornly. " If I had only three words I should make no 
 mistake. The writing had a character of its own." 
 
 You really believe that the interest on the part of 
 the woman was entirely platonic, concerned only with 
 your work?" asked Hallet. 
 
 " Certainly I do. They were such letters as a very 
 bright boy might write, a boy alive with enthusiasm 
 for research along unconventional lines, a mind filled 
 with beautiful ideals, and a very limited knowledge of 
 human nature as it really is ! " 
 
 "Do you forget," persisted Hallet, "that the 
 unknown started with an immense advantage over 
 you? Your photographs were used considerably in 
 newspapers and magazines." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 247 
 
 Sargent looked at him in frowning perplexity. 
 Evidently it had not occurred to him. 
 
 " Of course," decided Nell with conviction. " The 
 woman was in love with him personally all the time; 
 any man but Lane would have known it ! " 
 
 "Have you no opinion, Madame Monica?* asked 
 Hallet. You should understand the artistic tempera 
 ment, and you have seen the charming illustrations." 
 
 " Mrs. Wayne finds no charm in them," observed 
 Sargent, and Hallet regarded her in surprise. 
 
 "Is that possible?" he asked. 
 
 "They are pretty," she conceded, "though there is 
 nothing really big about them, a trifle immature, 
 perhaps, as were the thoughts in the letters." 
 
 " But the immaturity of the ideas, the evidence of 
 youth and lack of experience was one of the greatest 
 charms of the letters," said Sargent. 
 
 "All the heavenly ideals," remarked Nell, lightly. 
 
 l< You also read the the effusions ? " asked Monica. 
 
 "Me" and Nell s expression was comic in its pre 
 tence of humility. " Do you suppose my degenerate 
 eyes would be allowed to rest on them? No," and 
 she shook her head, sadly, " I can only judge the cause 
 by noting the effect. He was unnaturally good for a 
 long time after the first letters came I always have 
 my doubts of men who are unnaturally good. Then 
 there was a season when he radiated hope and happi 
 ness and ceased all reference to the unknown artist! 
 When a final letter came ending the correspondence, 
 
248 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 telling him she was married, well, he fell from grace 
 painted the town lurid for a week ! You need n t scowl, 
 Lane; you know you did. I was the only one who 
 guessed the reason, so he acknowledged the soft 
 impeachment, called himself several sorts of a fool, and 
 asked me to marry him." 
 
 " Nell, how absurd you can be, even when you are 
 charming," remarked Sargent, who had controlled his 
 first flash of angry amaze and accepted her exaggera 
 tions with an ironic smile; but the girl knew that he 
 was more than a little irritated that Monica was hear 
 ing and smiling in the cool manner with which she 
 usually favored all things pertaining to Sargent. They 
 never seemed to get on with each other. 
 
 "Oh, I know," she retorted. u You are half in love 
 with that woman still, even though she did trick you, 
 and have her fun. But, of course, the love is of the 
 unearthly, idealistic sort, and warranted not to affect 
 our humdrum plans of a winter wedding." 
 
 "Exalted ideals harm no one," observed Hallet. 
 
 " Not such short-lived ones as those of Mr. Sar 
 gent," added Monica, with a little mocking smile u a 
 week, an entire week, until he had transferred his 
 devotion to a new shrine I Mr. Gilman should be here 
 to note the limits of modern love." 
 
 " One cynic is quite enough," said Sargent, regarding 
 her moodily. He could endure Nell s tirades, and 
 smile, but the ridicule of Monica Wayne was a different 
 thing. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 249 
 
 " Meaning me? " she asked. 
 
 "Meaning you," he assented. "You with your 
 spirit of mockery could never understand that woman 
 of the letters, the woman who never mocked at anyone, 
 who had a sympathy with human frailty as deep and as 
 wide as the ocean she pictured. It was remarkable in a 
 young woman. She did not criticise, she understood. " 
 
 "And you are doubtful of me? " she queried. " But 
 I assure you I could understand. Why, after Nell s 
 account, I fancy I could even draw her picture. She is 
 probably some tender soul advanced in years without 
 ever having had a real romance. The story of mar 
 riage is probably a harmless fiction. If she has a hus 
 band, why not discuss with him those ideals of hers? 
 No, she is ugly and was afraid you would discover the 
 fact. No pretty woman disguises herself too much 
 for detection. She preferred leaving to you the illusion 
 she had created. She will die some day when you are 
 on the very pinnacle of fame, and your letters will be 
 found, tied with pink ribbon, and they will be published 
 together with her picture and yours ! You will regret 
 the day you ever learned to write. Again, for a week, 
 will earth and sky be lurid, and mental affinities 
 unpopular." 
 
 The merriment of Nell and Hallet was all the 
 applause she got for this humorous conception. Sar 
 gent looked at her with somber, questioning eyes. He 
 had never before seen her so alive with the spirit of 
 
250 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 ridicule, and towards himself she had usually exhibited 
 only a guarded civility. 
 
 " Strange that you have no sympathy with emotional 
 natures," he observed, " for, pardon me, your face, and 
 even your voice, would suggest that you might have, 
 but you have evidently lived too studious a life to com 
 prehend real people; you only have mental pictures of 
 what men and women ought to be, and their loves only 
 serve you for a laugh." 
 
 " I shall have to take sides if you get into that sort 
 of analysis," remarked Hallet. " You are severe." 
 
 "When I see real love I shan t laugh," and Monica 
 turned back to her work. 
 
 Sargent made no comment, only looked back at her, 
 and after one fleeting glance she did not care to meet 
 his eyes again. Words she could ridicule or refute, but 
 not eyes. 
 
 Hallet was at a table looking over a collection of 
 photographs of foreign paintings and held one up as 
 treasure trove. 
 
 "Here is something to balance all your cynical argu 
 ments, Madame Monica," he declared in triumph, u a 
 picture of Francesca and Paola. How do you excuse a 
 love like theirs?" 
 
 "A love like that is its own excuse," she replied, 
 promptly; u a love one is willing to live for, suffer for, 
 and die for!" She caught a glance from Sargent 
 which caused her to turn to Hallet with a lighter air 
 and a little shrug. " I keep that to help me have faith 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 251 
 
 in real loves. I like to forget the papier-mache 
 imitations about me." 
 
 "You only believe in the love of dead lovers." 
 retorted Nell. 
 
 " It is no longer in their power to be unfaithful," 
 she observed, demurely. 
 
 " Must one have died centuries ago to be given a 
 thought from you?" asked Hallet, replacing the photo 
 graph. "Have you no belief in the living loves of 
 today?" 
 
 "The living loves of today," she said, mockingly, as 
 she observed Sargent still watching her, "built on the 
 dead loves of yesterday. Oh, yes, I believe, help thou 
 my unbelief! " 
 
 " Monica, you are positively sacrilegious," cried 
 Nell. 
 
 "No," she said, decidedly, to this accusation. 
 "Love is the only religion worth living or dying for. 
 It is you worldlings who are sacrilegious when you dis 
 card the real and accept the imitations oh, are you 
 going?" she asked, as Hallet offered his hand; "have 
 I frightened you away?" 
 
 He smiled, shaking his head, but said nothing. His 
 good, safe friendship seemed a sort of anchor in their 
 group of irresponsibles, and she added, " Come again, 
 please?" 
 
 "As I am one of the abused imitations I will go with 
 you, Hallet," said Sargent. "Am I forgiven my per- 
 
252 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 sonalities, Mrs. Wayne?" he queried, with a smile. 
 She nodded carelessly. 
 
 44 Certainly, this seems a sort of Liberty Hall, where 
 all the family unload their troubles and fight out their 
 battles. I strive to be an impartial judge of the ring, 
 but occasionally I do take sides." 
 
 44 So I see. Nell, I have an engagement with your 
 aunt at a jeweler s," he said, looking at his watch, 4t and 
 will call for you when the working light is quite gone." 
 
 The two went out together and Monica worked in 
 silence under the puzzled regard of Nell, who wondered 
 vaguely what it was that made Monica so aggressively 
 alert and sarcastic. It really was a fact that they had 
 all piled in on her with their own little problems, and 
 perhaps she was tired of it, still " 
 
 4 That remark of yours about imitations fairly cut 
 Lane," she said at last. 
 
 44 Yes, he probably does not like the truth and is 
 growing too famous to hear it often," observed Mon 
 ica, stepping back to look at the picture from a different 
 angle. 44 You two became engaged through pique. He 
 is dreaming of some unknown woman, and you are 
 thinking of Tony Allen but Tony is going away." 
 
 44 Away from little old New York?" said Nell, 
 skeptically. 44 Not really, you know!" 
 
 44 Yes, really," returned Monica, decidedly; 44 prom 
 ised me." 
 
 44 1 don t see why you interest yourself," declared 
 Nell. 44 Why didn t you send Lane away ? " 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 253 
 
 " Because he is none too good for you, and Tony is, 
 When you foolishly discarded him he did not fly to 
 another woman in order to forget." 
 
 " How you do hate Lane," said Lane s fiancee, u and 
 he thinks you perfection." 
 
 "Position, please!" suggested Monica, "and don t 
 tilt your head at that angle. To discuss your love 
 affairs always gives you a scowling expression." 
 
 "Well, with so much interference, is it any won 
 der?" demanded Nell, and then the head was again at 
 the wrong angle, and she asked, " Is that actually true 
 about Tony?" 
 
 " It certainly is. You won t see him until after the 
 wedding." 
 
 "Oh, won t I?" demanded Nell, out of the chair 
 and jabbing hat pins viciously in the mass of plumage 
 she called a hat. " The idea of him going without even 
 a proper good-by ! " 
 
 " Mr Sargent is to call for you," reminded Monica 
 as Nell started for the hall. 
 
 "Send him away; you ll like that." 
 
 " But your picture " 
 
 "My expression is spoiled for today," said Nell, 
 mockingly; "too many sweethearts!" 
 
 As she disappeared in the outer hall Monica Wayne 
 drew a great breath of relief, and put aside palette and 
 brushes, and walked the length of the studio and back 
 with her hands clasped behind her, back and forth, back 
 and forth, restless as some caged thing. 
 
254 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "Another day like this and I should go frantic," she 
 muttered, " simply frantic ! " 
 
 The old colored woman came in, picked up the 
 brushes, straightened a rug, placed a chair in its own 
 nook, and generally set things at rights after the very 
 strenuous day. She glanced occasionally towards her 
 mistress with a world of love in her mild, velvety eyes. 
 
 " Headache, Miss Mona ? " she ventured at last, and 
 at that Monica halted in her restless walk and laughed 
 shortly. 
 
 " Would I be tramping like this if I had a head 
 ache?" she asked. "No, Maum Rosa, I am only 
 tired of people, and people, and people." 
 
 " Umph! Why bless youah haht, Miss Mona, I 
 been so plum glad of all these folks a-comin that I 
 never reckoned they d tire you out this a-way! Can t 
 I can t I do somethin ?" she asked, as Monica sat 
 down on the dais of the model chair and rested her 
 head on the throne. 
 
 "No, Maum Rosa, not a thing unless," she 
 added, "you know enough voudou to transport us both 
 into one of the wild corners of old Mexico where no 
 white folks can find the way." 
 
 "Voudou, me!" gasped the scandalized Rosa, 
 " Miss Mona, I follow you cheerful most any place 
 cepten to that Mexico place where red niggahs live. 
 I might follow you even thah," she added, cautiously, 
 "but I ain t a-goen cheerful." 
 
 Monica smiled absently, her thoughts already far 
 
Torget? Forget?" she whispered incredulously 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 255 
 
 afield, but as the faithful creature was going softly 
 away she aroused with a quick sigh and stopped her. 
 
 "How old are you, Maum Rosa?" she asked. 
 
 " Me? I m close on sixty-five, I reckon, an good," 
 she added, hopefully, " for twenty years yet!" 
 
 "And I am twenty-two," she said, thoughtfully. 
 "I also may live sixty years like this. Oh," and 
 she got suddenly to her feet, u it s a long, long time 
 to look forward to alone ! " 
 
 Rosa did not hear the last word. It was a mere 
 breath of a word. 
 
 "But taint so far to look back," she said, cheer 
 fully "The yeahs why, Miss Mona, they s jest 
 like miles in a road. Some of them have milestones 
 an some haven t any. The path an the roads, an* 
 even ole milestones, get growed over with grass an 
 tangle brush in sixty years, an we forget all about 
 them, Miss Mona, we forget all about them." 
 
 "No!" burst out Monica, with a vehemence star 
 tling to the old nurse, "I I shan t forget, ever! I 
 don t want to forget, I will not forget! Oh, go Rosa, 
 and leave me alone. Those people made me nervous, 
 or else I was tired when they came and the work " 
 
 Rosa went out, closing the door softly. 
 
 And Monica Wayne sat alone a long time, her chin 
 resting on her hand, her eyes staring straight ahead 
 as if for sight of the long line of the future years. 
 
 "Forget? Forget?" she whispered, incredu 
 lously. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 CHE was still there when the last reflection of a 
 red sunset flooded the room. It outlined the red 
 of her robe in dusky flame, and cast curious reflected 
 warmth on the pale profile. 
 
 The rest of the room was in soft gray shadow, and 
 McLane Sargent halted on the threshold, perfectly 
 still, almost holding his breath at the harmony of the 
 picture and the uncanny charm it held for him. 
 
 Nell had left the outer door ajar and he had entered 
 without ringing, fully expecting her criticism for his 
 tardiness. 
 
 And instead he had walked in on the silence of the 
 one woman whose charm for him was so baffling. 
 She looked appealingly girlish. The curve of the lips 
 was sad and there was no mockery in the eyes they 
 suggested unshed tears. It was girlhood on which he 
 looked, girlhood, and not happy, and he would have 
 given much to retreat unseen. 
 
 But he dared not even attempt it, and suddenly he 
 stepped off the rug to the bare floor. 
 
 " I sincerely beg your pardon, Mrs. Wayne," he 
 began, but she rose to her feet with a gasp of fear. 
 
 "I I seem fated to do the wrong thing," he said. 
 "The door was open and I thought " 
 
 256 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 257 
 
 "She has gone," she interrupted, hurriedly; "yes, 
 Nell has gone, she could not wait, she said " 
 
 "Never mind what she said," he suggested, sooth 
 ingly, " I have startled you again most abominably, and 
 I did want much to be in your good graces enough to 
 be allowed an interview." 
 
 "With me?" she asked, recovering her serenity 
 somewhat, though her breath was still uneven, and her 
 heart fluttering somewhere nearer her throat than 
 usual. She designated a chair by a gesture, and added, 
 "As a cousin-to-be you need not be so ceremonious." 
 
 "Thanks," he said, rather grimly, "it was on the 
 strength of that same misty cousinhood Hallet begged 
 me to speak to you." 
 
 "Did I shock him?" she smiled, suddenly relieved 
 in a way. If it was a message from Hallet it was of 
 course not a thing to be nervous over. " Nell said I 
 shocked you." 
 
 " I am becoming hardened to it," he observed, but 
 did not meet her eyes, and there was a perceptible 
 silence before he finally said, very quietly: ./; . 
 
 "Will it be something more to mock at if I tell 
 you he is much in love with you ? " 
 
 She looked at him very directly, but his eyes avoided 
 her; he was regarding with apparent interest the carv 
 ings on a facade across the street. She felt again mis 
 tress of the situation and began to laugh softly. 
 
 " Have you, in addition to your other honors, be 
 come ambassador to the Court of Love?" 
 
258 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 He looked pale in the gray light, and his face hard 
 ened at the sarcasm of her words and the disdain in 
 her laugh, but his voice was even and restrained as he 
 said: 
 
 " He is not the man to risk offending you in any 
 way, and that letter from Italy has made him 
 wretched; the more so that he has the feeling that 
 Mr. Wayne meant to follow the letter. He knows 
 that the family will try to influence you to consider 
 the settlement offered you, and he has no one to trust 
 but me." 
 
 Monica had banished her smile. She could not even 
 look at him as his low tones thrilled her by their very 
 restraint. It gave her a curious shock to hear him 
 mention Wayne. It was as a sort of barrier passed. 
 
 "And you advise ?" 
 
 Her voice was low as his own, and the two guarded 
 voices in the gray light might have belonged to con 
 spirators of a tragic possibility. 
 
 " I cannot advise," he said, after a silence through 
 which expression forced itself. "I have reached the 
 limit of my promise. He strongly advises divorce and 
 wants to get it for you; but if it is to be a reconcilia 
 tion he needs to know it. Naturally he can t make 
 proposals to the wife of Glyndon Wayne." 
 
 "Don t!" she cried, imperatively, all her restraint 
 gone. "I am not I never will be the wife of that 
 man! No law of any land can make me more free 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 259 
 
 than my own will. They make me wild all these 
 people with their laws of state, of society, of the creeds ! 
 There is more virtue in breaking half of them than in 
 keeping them. Right here, today I heard of certain 
 laws so infernal in their intent that oh they disgust 
 me with the hypocrisies under their legal form. I shall 
 be my own law and live by it. All I ask is to be left 
 alone." 
 
 " I regret having annoyed you," he said, in the same 
 colorless, even tones. " I could not refuse to come, 
 I" 
 
 A ring at the door came to them, and so tense had 
 been the moments that they both arose, alert and silent, 
 looking at each other. 
 
 Then they heard the voice of Lulu, and a moment 
 later she entered, as usual tempestuously. 
 
 u Oh, has Nell gone?" she asked, as she glanced 
 about, and then seeing Sargent she added, " Did you 
 get the card?" 
 
 " What card?" he asked, "have you sent me a pic 
 ture postal?" 
 
 "No, but I will," she laughed. "I mean the card 
 I left with your man, Mrs. Dacy s card postponing 
 her engagement with you until eleven-thirty tomorrow." 
 
 "No, Lulu, I kept the engagement, but the lady 
 failed. I have not been to my hotel or seen the card, 
 but it doesn t matter. I ll remember eleven-thirty 
 
 tomorrow." 
 
260 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 He turned to the window and did not even glance 
 at Monica. It was not so easy to pick up the cloak of 
 carelessness at the advent of a third person. 
 
 " You forgot your gloves, Lulu," said Monica, and 
 lifting them from the table walked over with them to 
 the mantel where the girl followed, wonderingly. 
 
 " Lulu, get back that card," she said, lowly, her eyes 
 on Sargent at the window. " Bring it here to me at 
 once, Lulu, at once! " 
 
 " Of course," agreed the puzzled girl, wondering at 
 the tensity and secrecy in her manner. " Is it impor 
 tant?" 
 
 " Important enough to put your portrait next on the 
 easel." 
 
 "Oh, I ll simply fly! Good-bye, Mr. Sargent." 
 
 Monica leaned on the back of a chair and the world 
 seemed to go around her. Her back was to Sargent, 
 and she strove to regain command of herself before 
 he should see her face. Once she reached mechan 
 ically to press the electric button for light, but her hand 
 fell nerveless, afraid. 
 
 Then, out of the whirling gray of her world, she 
 heard his voice. 
 
 u It was for that girl s sake you refused the divorce," 
 he was saying, " to save her from the scheme of a vain, 
 ambitious woman, and a man whose money she hoped 
 to secure. Can I tell Hallet that when she is her 
 own guardian, or married, that you will ask for 
 divorce?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 261 
 
 Then she heard him say, " Mrs. Wayne, you are 
 ill!" and realized that she had sunk down into the 
 chair and that only his voice and the dread of failing 
 utterly, held her to the thread of a slight consciousness. 
 
 " I will call your woman," he said, and crossed to 
 the door; but she stopped him. 
 
 "No I am not ill not at all," and she strug 
 gled to her feet, only to sink back into the chair, weak 
 and white, but smiling slightly, with a last attempt to 
 assume a strength she did not possess. 
 
 " Not ill, but sometimes I am overwhelmed by the 
 many joys of life; the pretty plans my friends arrange 
 for me there are so many of them, and each opposes 
 the other so what can I do but refuse them all, all! 
 Poor empty-handed ambassador from Cupid s court! 
 You have to go back with nothing; but " and sud 
 denly she broke down appealingly, " Don t let them 
 send any one else to me don t, ever again!" 
 
 And then the skies seemed to fall and all the world 
 changed, and out of the chaos came only his voice. 
 
 There were words, and words, heard as in a dream, 
 and gradually 
 
 " I came to hide from him that I was afraid to 
 come ! It has been like a foretaste of hell to think of 
 him sharing your life. You know it all now at least 
 the pretense is over. You won t speak, so of course 
 you will find some good reason to close your door 
 against me. I have presumed to interfere in your per- 
 
262 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 sonal affairs. I accept any sentence from you, but do 
 you mean to live all your life alone like this?" 
 
 " Alone like this!" 
 
 She did not mean to speak, silence seemed the only 
 weapon she had left, but she heard herself repeat his 
 words, and knew she must not do even that again. 
 
 "Monica!" 
 
 She lifted her hand in protest, but his words and his 
 nearness overwhelmed her like a flood. 
 
 " Let me at least say the name aloud once ! I Ve 
 whispered it to myself each day and each night since 
 I met you first. You never gave me a thought more 
 than to an ordinary acquaintance, but it was a real 
 woman and no longer an imaginary one, who stood 
 between Nell and me." 
 
 "Go, please go!" she whispered, so faintly that 
 only Love s ears could hear. Her back was to him as 
 she huddled down in the chair, her hands clasped over 
 her breast, her face averted, the very picture of cower 
 ing fear. 
 
 " Monica, I shall do one of two things marry Nell 
 at once if we are ever to marry, or else leave America 
 within a week. Do you know why? Shall I tell you 
 why?" 
 
 "Oh go, go!" she muttered, without lifting her 
 head. 
 
 " Because I could not trust myself again in this 
 casual friendly role. I should forget, as I am forget- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 263 
 
 ting now, all the conventional walls meant to keep you 
 from me " 
 
 "Go! " and the word had become a plea instead of 
 a command. 
 
 " I should have a mad desire to beat them down, 
 or throw them aside. I could remember only a girl 
 whose life is desolate, and that I am a man who 
 adores her." 
 
 Deeper and deeper she crouched in the chair, her 
 face covered, and the trembling, convulsive breaths told 
 him she was weeping. 
 
 To the man standing over her she was no longer 
 the mocking, alluring, baffling woman, she was a child 
 whom his wild words had hurt, and his very heart with 
 all its weight of longing crept into his voice and to the 
 tips of his fingers as he bent over and touched her 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Monica!" 
 
 At his touch she shrank from under his hand, fright 
 ened at him or at something within her own nature 
 sleeping sleeping until his words, his touch, had 
 wakened her! She was filled with terror, and could 
 find no word to say, yet he must go go go ! 
 
 Hysterically she laughed in sheer fear, and at the 
 laugh he stood erect as if she had struck him. That 
 movement gave her courage, and she pointed to the 
 door. 
 
 He took one step towards her, his hand flung out in 
 
264 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 protest, but her laughter rang clear, and the mockery 
 slashed at him like a knife. 
 
 "Worthy ambassador for Cupid s court!" 
 
 For an instant he stood in the doorway, his face 
 ashen white, his hands clenched in the effort at self- 
 restraint, then her hand groped back of her to the wall 
 and touched the electric button, and the blaze of light 
 flashed in his eyes, eyes hard with pain as he dashed 
 aside the portier and went out with the sound of her 
 mocking laughter in his ears. 
 
 For an instant she stood tense and staring her eyes 
 on the place where he had been. 
 
 Then a door opened and closed. 
 
 Her world of dreams was empty, and she knew she 
 had driven out the other half of her life. 
 
 With a little cry she ran to the entrance and gath 
 ered to her lips the curtain where his hand had been, 
 and sank down a crumpled heap, a lonely staring 
 creature in the glare of the light. 
 
 After a long time she looked about the room as if it 
 was a new world into which she had emerged, and her 
 lips seemed stiff as with cold, when she muttered: 
 
 " Alone! sixty years, and the grass grows and 
 covers the landmarks, and we in time forget! " 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 HpHAT evening, Lulu, in a telephone booth, was 
 * calling impatiently for Mrs. Wayne s number, 
 after her attempts at the door of the apartment had 
 proven useless. No one had answered the door. 
 
 At last the receiver was taken down and Central said, 
 " Go ahead/ 
 
 "Is that you, Mrs. Wayne? Yes, it s Lulu. I ve 
 been trying to get you hours and hours! What? 
 headache ? Oh, I m so sorry ! No, I could not find the 
 man I gave the card to, he had gone on an errand, but 
 I left word, and will see him the very first thing in 
 the morning, it s only around the corner from our 
 hotel. I 11 be there early. No, don t hang up, I Ve 
 such news ! Mr. Sargent won t be interested in cards 
 or engagements tomorrow, he will have something 
 more important to think of. What? can t hear? 
 Yes, I said Mr. Sargent. Nell Mitford has walked 
 off and got married and cheated us out of wedding 
 cake. Isn t that the craziest thing? No, I don t know 
 details, she telephoned from the pier. Mama is with 
 Mrs. Dacy, who is having hysterics over it so scan 
 dalized. That settles poor Tony Allen! I wouldn t 
 do such a crazy thing with all the plans made for a 
 perfectly beautiful wedding; but I suppose if you are 
 
 265 
 
266 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 dead in love with a man what? Oh, well, yes, do 
 lie down again. I do hope you will feel better in the 
 morning. Good-night, dear. Let me know if I can 
 come around and do anything. Good-night! " 
 
 Late that evening George Hallet was surprised to 
 be told Mrs. Wayne wanted to speak to him on the 
 telephone, and he was more surprised when her clear 
 tones came to him telling him to make a legal applica 
 tion for her divorce at once. 
 
 " Don t ask me questions about it. I will mail this 
 same signed request to you tonight. I am worn out 
 with the subject and the contention. No, don t talk to 
 me about it. You know all there is to do. I am going 
 away to get freedom from the family discussion. 
 When it is safely under way I will come back to work. 
 There will be no use to ask Rosa, she won t know 
 where I am. No, don t ask me questions. Lulu is out 
 of the mind of Glyndon Wayne, and I simply can t 
 endure the situation. I would leave America before I 
 would consider a reconciliation, and their arguments 
 in favor of it will be endless unless there is a divorce. 
 Don t talk, just arrange the application immediately, 
 and make it impossible for me to draw back. I have 
 been worn out by the subject and am going away 
 tonight. I care nothing for the legal details, only end 
 this controversy. Good-night." 
 
 "Thank God!" said Hallet, as he hung up the re 
 ceiver, and sat long into the night, smoking, and think 
 ing of the time when he should dare tell her as much 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 267 
 
 as he had acknowledged to Sargent Sargent, the 
 good fellow who had no doubt helped to bring this 
 decision about! 
 
 And he did not tell her of a wireless then on his 
 desk brought in by Dacy to whom it was addressed, 
 
 S. S. CARMANIA. 
 9.50 Oct. 30th, 1912. 
 
 Am following letter. Give you carte blanche for settle 
 ments, only arrange quickly. WAYNE. 
 
 " Thank God!" murmured George Hallet again, 
 and fell to estimating how best to take advantage of 
 each hour allowed before the coming of the man who 
 hoped to buy back a girl he had only, remembered for 
 six years as an irritating encumbrance. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HpHE sumac was red under the fleeting sky of Indian 
 -* summer, and the rugged shore was forsaken of the 
 summer colony. No one remained to comment on the 
 fact that smoke issued from the great stone chimney of 
 the cottage among the twisted trees on the north shore. 
 Some fishermen noted a light there in the cove of the 
 sunken reefs, and a small boat, a " half-rater," stood 
 out to the open sea at times and crossed their water 
 trails and sailed back at dusk into the little harbor; 
 but any sailor who could make the harbor of the sunken 
 reefs without help did not need watching, and the 
 little group of fishermen in the cottages on the other 
 side of the rugged rock thrust out to sea, had little of 
 curiosity concerning the remnants of the summer 
 groups, or the stragglers who lingered after the frosts. 
 Thus Monica Wayne, fleeing as from crime, hid her 
 self in the one place she trusted they would not expect 
 her to go at that season. They would probably con 
 clude she had gone south, in fact they would conclude 
 several things not true. The principal one would be 
 that she had fled because of Glyndon Wayne and the 
 family interests, whereas she would not have turned out 
 of her way to pass him on the street, so indifferent had 
 she grown to all thoughts of his personality. 
 
 268 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 269 
 
 But she was terror-stricken and tingling with dread 
 lest some unguarded moment would come to her, some 
 hour of weakness in which others might see the truth 
 she had learned of herself and of McLane Sargent 
 that even he 
 
 But at that thought the terror of that scene in the 
 studio came over her again. She had to get away to 
 think, to make plans, to burn all the bridges and sever 
 herself from these kindly folk who had been so much 
 a part of her life in the East. 
 
 The thought of the divorce was like the straw to the 
 drowning man. It was the one logical thing she could 
 use to excuse her sudden departure from their midst. 
 It would explain everything to all of them. There 
 would be dismay and regret and gossip, but there would 
 be no questions ; there would, above all, be no doubt in 
 the mind of any of them even he could not doubt! 
 
 She scarcely dared think of him by name, though 
 she had never forgotten him since the day when she 
 rode her dripping horse into the one little street of San 
 Juan, raging against the jealous native element, and in 
 the midst of her daring insolence she had seen his eyes 
 travel from the horse to her and made her suddenly 
 ashamed of her fury, her bare feet, and the Indian 
 banda about her braided hair. 
 
 Yet that attire, and her angry Spanish, had seemed 
 as a mask for her these many weeks. Had she spoken 
 English he must surely have solved long ere this the 
 mystery of her voice. How often had she seen him 
 
270 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 listen when she spoke and watch her with a puzzled 
 eagerness as if at any moment the veil might lift and a 
 glimpse be gained of that other life somewhere, some 
 time when her voice had sounded in his ears ! 
 
 And they had come so near, within a few feet of each 
 other, only one short day before she had given up her 
 legal freedom ! 
 
 The Fates had brought their trails thus very close 
 as if in irony of human foresight, and now after the 
 long circle of many days, and dreary years, he had said 
 the words never to be unsaid he had called to her as 
 to a mate, had laid his very heart bare, and had been 
 
 sent away in the silence with which she had wrapped 
 i_ i* c * * 
 
 her life. 
 
 All these moments were lived over by her alone on 
 the cliffs above the sunken reefs, and out of the chaos 
 into which she had plunged she was making plans, and 
 plans ! 
 
 Among her father s papers there was a description 
 of a wonderful old forgotten villa in the heart of Mex 
 ican forests where mines had been lost in the days of 
 revolution and inquisition, and the forest had over 
 grown the ancient principality; but on her wall was a 
 picture of a marble-pillared dwelling steps of marble 
 led down to a water garden where statues and carven 
 columns marked the restful ways, and a great moun 
 tain of white and violet loomed in the far distance as 
 seen through the forest trees. 
 
 It was an unbelievable paradise in the midst of a 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 271 
 
 wild forgotten corner of the land, yet the thought of 
 it had always held a fascination for her, though she 
 had never seen it. 
 
 She studied the picture, and she searched through the 
 old Mexican records for every note concerning it. Her 
 father had died of jungle fever not far from there. It 
 had been his headquarters, though he ranged south to 
 Yucatan and west along the coast But to this Eden 
 in the wilderness he and an old scientific friend had 
 returned again and again for the mere joy of exist 
 ence there and the ever alluring mystery of the primi 
 tive people of the region. 
 
 It was unknown to Americans. None of her own 
 group would ever seek her there and with Maum 
 Rosa - 
 
 So she paced the road above the cliffs and thought 
 and made plans by which her life would not again 
 cross trails with the one man whose voice was as a 
 caress, whose real self was so close that he kept pace 
 beside her day time and night time. She, independent 
 and self-reliant all her days, was no longer alone, and 
 felt that her life was enveloped by the force of his 
 wild need of her. 
 
 That Aztec love song came back haunting her in 
 Nell s voice Nell s! 
 
 Though wide you range the forest through, 
 I wake with thee, deep in thy heart I rest. 
 
 When trembles in my ear the turquoise blue 
 I know it is thy heart within my breast ! 
 
272 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 The tones of Nell came to her in every syllable, Nell 
 who had been the one wholesome, natural, loving 
 chum among them all. And it was Nell whom she 
 could never face again with eyes unashamed, Nell 
 whose voice sounded through all the songs she best 
 loved, Nell to whose life he must belong through 
 all the years, while she 
 
 Over and over she thrust from her these thoughts, 
 only to have them return as regularly as the billows 
 followed each other in from the ocean. The restless 
 ness of the surging sea echoed her own heart-beats as 
 they swept against the bulwarks of stone in the land 
 locked harbors. The wild crash of the waters broke 
 like thunder on the great brown boulders, curled in 
 white foam in every crevice, and swept out to the 
 depths again, leaving never a trace on the great curved 
 wall of the cliff. The wall built by the fates around her 
 own life was like that. Though she dashed herself for 
 ever against them nothing would change the barrier 
 the barrier she could never pass ! Like the shattered 
 waves there was no peace, no rest, unless it were to be 
 found in some deepest depths far below the moving 
 shimmering surface. 
 
 And again her thoughts drifted to that wonderful 
 hidden place of the old Mexican garden. No corner 
 of Europe would so surely bar out the world for her, 
 and perhaps, after awhile, when the ache in the heart 
 was less keen, if ever such time should come 
 
 Thus she sailed out to sea, glad of the harsh, keen 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 273 
 
 winds to fight, some physical thing to conquer, that for 
 even a short space she might escape her own thoughts 
 and her own vague wild plans of flight. 
 
 Thus when the dusk came and the walls of the house 
 oppressed her, she would walk over the road where 
 they had walked together in strange silence that first 
 evening. Each turn, each curve of the shore, each 
 great boulder by the wayside, was a mute witness that 
 here their feet had halted, and their very souls met 
 without speech. 
 
 And wandering thus alone and aimless in the dusk, 
 she came above the little cove with the cabin built of 
 wreckage and the old hull of a boat, where no one had 
 lived since old man Craig had gone away and died 
 somewhere on the south shore. It was a desolate- 
 looking place, and scurrying clouds sent queer shadows 
 over it at times, and again the starlight and the white 
 surf leaping beyond it gave it a clear silhouette peculiar 
 and weird. 
 
 Suddenly across the desolate little strip of shore she 
 discerned a thing more definite than shadow moving in 
 the half light a slender, halting figure, and at times 
 the flutter of a scarf. 
 
 Once the figure seemed literally to sink into the 
 ground, and Monica, startled and alert, found herself 
 watching the spot with a sort of fascinated horror. 
 Fishermen s wives were not prone to cross the rocks 
 in the dusk to the deserted cabin of the old dead sailor. 
 She herself had walked down there in the morning and 
 
274 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 felt oppressed by the empty husk of that which had 
 been once a home. No one had touched the rude fur 
 nishings beyond the removal of wearing apparel and 
 bedding. She had learned that Hettie had disposed of 
 the few saleable things and gone somewhere into 
 Gloucester to live. 
 
 Monica had found herself wondering if it was a 
 tryst, and glanced along the shore for a possible other 
 visitor to that especially deserted cove ; but look where 
 she might she could see nothing but black rock, and 
 white surf as it beat like a hungry monster against 
 the shore. 
 
 Then, with a sharp tingling thrill of recognition, she 
 saw the slight shadowy figure rise again from the sand, 
 and with a horrible, definite, reckless movement throw 
 the scarf aside, and with arms upstretched as in sup 
 plication, run straight for the fury of the wild surf. 
 
 Monica heard a scream which she did not recog 
 nize as her own, and straight as an arrow dashed down 
 the cliff, speeding along the edge of the roaring surf 
 and throwing herself on the slender figure with such 
 force that both fell, and the creeping fingers of the 
 hungry sea reached out again until they were covered 
 with spray and soaked on the wet sands. 
 
 The girl was stunned, and Monica, gasping for 
 breath in the face of the spray, held her as best 
 she could in the shelter of her own body. She had 
 no idea who she held, only that it was some desperate 
 soul who perhaps could return to her no thanks. She 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 275 
 
 herself knew what it meant to stand on the cliffs and 
 think with longing of the rest out there beneath the 
 waves. 
 
 But when the girl stirred and spoke, she knew the 
 voice. It was Hettie. 
 
 "It would have been better to let me go out to 
 sea," she whispered. "There is no place for me on 
 land." 
 
 "We will see," said Monica Wayne, getting to her 
 feet and helping the girl, who was weak and trembling. 
 " If you can walk, we will go home." 
 
 "Home!" 
 
 The voice of the girl had little of hope in it. She 
 was too worn, however, to make protest, and slowly 
 she was led up the cliff, resting often, and so weak that 
 Monica s arm circled her, and more than once pre 
 vented her from sinking to the ground. 
 
 "Are you hurt?" she asked, in some anxiety, think 
 ing for the first time of the distance to any one if help 
 were needed; but the girl sank to the couch as they 
 entered the living room, and smiled drearily. 
 
 " No," she half whispered, " only it has been long 
 since I had food; and I walked, and and walked 
 to get here. There is no place even to die in the 
 towns." 
 
 Monica gave her one look of horror and utter under 
 standing, and asked no more questions. Out of the 
 stores in the closets she brought brandy and milk, and 
 with an alcohol lamp had hot soup and crackers, all 
 
276 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 she dared give her at first; and the listless, indifferent 
 eyes of the girl smiled wistfully as the wet clothes were 
 stripped from her and she was wrapped in garments 
 soft and warm. 
 
 " I don t know what to say," she ventured at last 
 "You will think me wicked, for I meant to do it." 
 
 "I know," said Monica. " Don t think about it, or 
 if you do, just think that you were sent for me to take 
 care of tonight because I needed you." 
 
 " You, need me?" and the tone was incredulous, 
 yet the eyes had the first little gleam of hope. Oh, if 
 any one needed me, anywhere ! " 
 
 " Child, the world is full of people who carry that 
 same thought," said Monica, gently. "We are all 
 needed somewhere to help someone." 
 
 "But you " 
 
 "Even I " and the smile in Monica s eyes made 
 the girl sink back on the pillow with a little sigh of 
 content. Ere long she was sleeping soundly, and 
 Monica watching her realized that for at least one hour 
 the pain had been driven from her own heart by service 
 to the tired little stray. 
 
M 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ONICA asked no questions, and the girl only 
 said wistfully that she was alone; that the only 
 work she could get was too heavy. She had been ill, 
 and then there had been no one to recommend her, 
 and she knew little but the life along the shore, so she 
 had come back but to be so hungry, and to see the 
 loneliness and desolation of the old cabin, and to have 
 no one anywhere in the world to go to to tell 
 
 All at once she thought she had gone kind of wild, 
 and the surf seemed calling her, and she had remem 
 bered a dead woman who drifted in from a wreck to 
 the cove one morning long ago. The woman had 
 looked so peaceful, as if all the trouble of the world 
 had dropped away from her, and she, Hettie, had 
 remembered that; only the face seemed her own face, 
 and all at once she was on her feet and going to meet 
 that peace and leave the troubles behind, and that 
 
 was all. 
 
 She told her little story half fearfully, watching Mrs. 
 Wayne for sign of expected disapproval, but could dis 
 cern none. Monica s acceptance of the situation indi 
 cated that it was one of the natural instincts to turn 
 back to the old home when the trails of the towns grew 
 difficult; and of course when one is ill even a slight 
 
 277 
 
278 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 touch of delirium leads one to do unusual things, but 
 she felt quite sure that the spray would have restored 
 her, and she further suggested that much of Hettie s 
 fantastic imaginings was due to the fact that she had 
 simply fainted on the sands from utter exhaustion 
 she had never really made an attempt to throw her 
 self into that churning whirlpool, swinging in over the 
 sunken reefs. 
 
 Hettie Craig listened gratefully, and all her tired 
 little soul was given strength by the woman who was 
 so wonderful to her, who understood, who wrapped her 
 in soft robes, and laughed at her, who slipped Indian 
 moccasins on her feet, and assured her that with her 
 straight dark hair arranged in the right fashion, she 
 would make a very interesting little mana, or Indian 
 maid. 
 
 All this in a gay, friendly way, carrying with it no 
 hint of condescension. It was as if in truth she was 
 needed, and as if this wonder woman was really waiting 
 there alone for her at the edge of the land! 
 
 Monica made sketches of her in various costumes, 
 and delighted her soul by the assurance that she could 
 make use of her as a model. Her oval face with the 
 great eyes, and tender, childish lips, offered a type 
 valuable for angelic, or Madonna studies. Monica 
 wondered how she had failed to notice it before, but 
 attributed it to the fact that the dressing of her hair 
 had been the usual popular and unbecoming village 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 279 
 
 mode; but with a narrow fillet, and braided hair over 
 her ears she looked early Italian. With a jeweled net 
 and a gossamer veil, a Venetian girl smiled wistfully 
 out from the drawing Monica showed her after a brief 
 half hour of work, and the profile had all the sugges 
 tion of childish curves such as Lippo loved to paint. 
 Monica thought of the prior s niece and smiled and 
 sketched with eager interest, knowing that each brief 
 study was as a lifeline thrown to the girl. 
 
 The words of Monica seemed to the little stray 
 simply too good to be true. She had never thought of 
 herself as pretty, and the idea that her face could have 
 a value to an artist, when no one would offer labor for 
 her hands, was too wild a fancy for her to entertain. 
 
 Monica saw the trembling doubt in the girl s face, 
 and without further words went to work in a method 
 ical, business-like way; one brief pose after another, 
 until Hettie was dazzled and transformed by the hope 
 beating again through her veins. At last she had been 
 shown that even the wildest dream could come true. 
 
 She broke down and wept in sheer gratitude. The 
 saving of her life had brought only a doubtful joy, but 
 the hope of making the life of use, of use to the woman 
 who seemed to her to hold magic in the tips of her 
 fingers that was as the very gift of the gods! 
 
 Monica threatened to draw her with her eyes swol 
 len and her nose red, if she persisted in shedding tears 
 over the fact that she had found an easy job, which 
 
280 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 prosaic statement made her laugh and promise to be 
 good, even good enough to pose for the angels Mrs. 
 Wayne declared she needed for certain windows. 
 
 Thus, with a light touch of humor here, and a bit of 
 serious encouragement there, the girl was as one new 
 born under the tender, watchful care of Monica 
 Wayne. She went from room to room as in a happy 
 dream, her thin face radiant; and the woman, watching 
 her, was grateful as the homeless child, for it had 
 brought, at the right moment, a new appeal to her own 
 life. 
 
 It also brought a needed link with the outer world. 
 She need no longer sail miles down the coast to pur 
 chase the little necessities of daily life. With Hettie 
 as errand girl the seclusion was simplified. She needed 
 no other maid, and if the spirit moved her she could 
 resume her work and carry it on indefinitely, or until 
 her own troubled mind could see through the troubling 
 mists. 
 
 A day before she would have resented the intrusion 
 of any mortal soul from the outer world, but the abso 
 lute dependence of the girl for life itself, struck a new 
 chord to which her own nature responded, all the more 
 that the girl asked never a question, had never a 
 thought that it was even strange to find Mrs. Wayne 
 alone here on the deserted shore. To her adoring 
 heart nothing was strange that Mrs. Wayne should 
 choose to do, and the magic of the art work gave 
 reason for all things. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 281 
 
 She never referred to the Dacy household or aught 
 connected with them, and that also was a dread swept 
 aside. In her own avoidance of them it did not even 
 occur to Monica that it was strange a little village girl 
 should not mention the one family where she had 
 been half maid, half seamstress. 
 
 Two days went by like that, drifting Indian sum 
 mer days of a sort of readjustment. 
 
 The ache in the heart was no less, nor the loneliness, 
 nor the keen shame at the thought of a possible meet 
 ing; but there was new work given to her hand, and 
 with a deeper understanding of pain than she had ever 
 known, she aroused herself to meet it. 
 
 To Hettie she gave only one bit of instruction 
 not to mention her presence, and to make clear to any 
 possible inquirer the fact that she, Hettie, was taking 
 care of the house as her grandfather had formerly 
 done; in this way no villager or fisherman could have 
 any query or even comment on the fact that one cottage 
 out of the many along the shore was occupied. 
 
 Monica was considering the chances of sending 
 Hettie to the studio with an order to Rosa for her mail 
 and other necessaries she dared not write when 
 the weather turned suddenly murky; danger signals 
 were run up along the coast, and Hettie busied herself 
 getting in the driftwood from the great wood house 
 in the rear. With the instinct of a shore girl she went 
 about preparing for the periodical storm of the equi- 
 
282 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 noctial, trusting that moon and tide would not combine 
 to strengthen its fury. 
 
 Monica, who had never seen the great autumn 
 storms of the North Atlantic, only laughed at her 
 various preparations, and contented herself with see 
 ing that the boat was snug and in perfect condition. 
 She had the feeling that she would like just once to go 
 out in the face of a gale, and see what did happen 
 away out there beyond the visible reefs, where strange 
 sea stories were laid. 
 
 " You would not want to go if you had ever heard 
 the guns of distress thundering out there/* said Hettie, 
 shaking her head, "or if you had ever stood on the 
 rocks and counted the dead men, and women too, who 
 drifted in and out, in and out, of the cove! I have 
 seen that sort of thing as far back as I can remember. 
 I guess it must have stamped itself on my mind, that 
 picture, so that when I lost myself I saw it all over 
 again, only one of the girls had my face, and I thought 
 it meant " 
 
 " It meant that you were hungry and tired, and 
 nothing more," said Monica, promptly, "and as you 
 do not need to travel by water to Manhattan I still 
 think I will send you. I will write out every direction, 
 and the list of articles I require. I told Rosa I would 
 be back or send word in a week. You will be the word. 
 You have been to Boston?" 
 
 "Yes, once." 
 
 " Then you know enough to travel alone that little 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 283 
 
 journey of a day. You can take a cab from the depot 
 to my door, and Rosa will start you safely on the 
 return trip. In forty-eight hours you will be back, and 
 no one the worse, or the wiser/* 
 
 "But if it should storm and you alone?" 
 
 " Don t be foolish. If I had not found you would 
 I not be alone? I am no worse off, indeed I am much 
 better, for you have all things prepared for any sort 
 of storm siege, and the sooner you go the more service 
 you will be to me. I shall stay here to work, and you 
 will return to help me, and Rosa will keep the city 
 studio in order for the day when I go back, and to 
 no one must either of you mention my present haven." 
 
 She took the girl in a boat to a shore village, where 
 she was safely started on her little errand to the south, 
 and then, with a few needed articles for their camp 
 table, she headed the boat out again into deep water to 
 circle the dangerous reefs thrust out like great skele 
 ton fingers from the shore, and discernible only at 
 times by the white foam breaking over and away, and 
 ever returning. 
 
 The wind of which Hettie was afraid had modi 
 fied, and there was a warmth in the air slightly differ 
 ent from the crisp autumn chill to which they had grown 
 accustomed. The sky was overcast, and to the south 
 east was a long yellow streak touching the dark sea at 
 the horizon. 
 
 A steamer speeding down from the banks was show 
 ing a bit of hull and trail of smoke, but all smaller 
 
284 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 craft were scuttling into harbor, and hugging the shore 
 where shelter offered. Some men in a small fishing 
 smack stood at the low rail and shouted at her as she 
 headed north, but she could understand nothing but 
 their gestures directed to the yellow haze widening 
 over the far, black sea. 
 
 Even though it should be wind, and much wind, she 
 was going directly away from it. Only little puffs of 
 warm air struck her at times, barely enough to keep sail 
 filled. In less than an hour she would be in the cove 
 with two entire days alone, to think of 
 
 She was guiltily conscious of the fact that she needed 
 those two days alone. After planning every step of 
 the way for Hettie, and safeguarding each move, she 
 felt as if she had wandered far from her real self and 
 must fly back to the silence where the thought of him 
 waited for her! 
 
 It was a joy to remember that once at least he had 
 set sail and skimmed the water in her own little boat 
 that strange, wonderful day when they had spoken in 
 guarded tones, each, as she knew now, afraid, afraid. 
 
 Thus every bit of sea and shore spoke to her of him, 
 though they had walked beside each other but twice. 
 The words they had spoken aloud could so easily be 
 counted, but the unspoken 
 
 All these memories came back to her with a rush 
 as she turned homeward alone. The dreams she had 
 driven away came back, and even the pain of them was 
 sweet. By a sort of instinct she steered the boat and 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 28$ 
 
 shortened sail as the wind freshened in little gusts. She 
 was scudding over the darkening water, her eyes pick 
 ing out here and there the little lines of white where 
 the water foamed over the great jaws of the hidden 
 reefs. 
 
 With her eyes ahead, feeling her way into the mouth 
 of the cove, she had turned her back on the yellow 
 haze above the horizon, and, glad of the strengthening 
 wind, gave little heed that the murkiness was shot by 
 far smothered flashes from which no sound reached 
 her. 
 
 And then, above the song of the wind, and the music 
 of swirling water at the prow, there came the shriek 
 and rumble of the thing following in her wake like a 
 great vulture of the sea with widespread wings ! The 
 queer yellow light swept over her and touched the 
 water with strange reflections, the far cliffs looked 
 almost green for an instant, and then the wind struck 
 the boat, tearing away the mast like a broken match 
 tossed aside. The water was piled up like an incom 
 ing wall of black. Even in the shock of it she seemed 
 to have seen that same wall, or one suggesting it, long, 
 long ago. 
 
 It had been in the desert when a cloudburst sent a 
 volume of water down a dry canon bed, and she had 
 urged her horse to a higher level and watched it come, 
 the head of it reared high like that of a white-crested 
 serpent. 
 
 Just so did the crashing water break over the floor 
 
286 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 of the sea as a tidal wave borne onward by the hurri 
 cane sweeping landward. 
 
 It seemed to lift the little craft bodily and dash it 
 forward, and the girl clinging to the tiller was thrown 
 with such force that her arms seemed torn from their 
 sockets. 
 
 For a moment she was stunned and lay helpless at 
 the mercy of the shrieking fury, but when she recov 
 ered her hands had never loosened their grip. She 
 even had the thought that if the boat had gone under 
 it would have been found long after with her hands 
 still gripped around the tiller. 
 
 But it did not go under, and it was driven straight 
 in shore into that circle of the cove where Hettie had 
 told her the dead moved with other wreckage, around 
 and around after disastrous storms. 
 
 And she was going into it straight ahead of the howl 
 ing gale. At worst she had anticipated only a slight 
 squall which she would easily outride, but this name 
 less monster of the deep was akin to nothing she had 
 ever seen on the north coast. In Mexican waters she 
 had seen the swift tropic hurricane level everything to 
 be destroyed of wind and water, and this sudden wild 
 rage of the elements had nothing of the temperate 
 zone in it. 
 
 In a calm sea there were little stretches of sandy 
 shore visible between the boulders, but now the whole 
 cove was a boiling seething caldron, and the sea 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 287 
 
 seemed to run mountains high, shutting out all but the 
 sky and the higher cliffs. The waves swinging in 
 roared like thunder as they smashed on the titanic 
 boulders, and the sturdy little boat was as an empty 
 shell tossed from summit to summit of the huge 
 rollers. 
 
 Great curves of white spray passed clear over her, 
 a canopy of foam, and kneeling, clinging to the tiller, 
 she was swamped to the waist by the wash of the 
 water. 
 
 Straight on a lee shore she was being driven by the 
 gale, and in her mind was only one question would 
 the boat go under before reaching the shore, or could 
 she be able to keep it head-on before the wind with the 
 thought that the tremendous force might lift it clear 
 to the unseen beach? And if it were the rocks 
 
 She could hear the muffled thunder of the surf above 
 the shriek of the gale, and somewhere out of the low 
 roll of black clouds came short, sharp reports and 
 the ceaseless glare of the artillery of hurricanes. 
 
 Kneeling, throwing all her strength on the tiller, 
 peering ahead through the spray, she caught one 
 glimpse of the shore from the crest of a wave ere she 
 plunged downward into a maelstrom where all the 
 world was a swirl of white foam. 
 
 But in that one glimpse she had the numb fear 
 strike her of having lost her way. There was no mo 
 ment to think or reason concerning it, but in her own 
 
288 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 cove there would be no boat, and for one instant she 
 had caught the white outline of a small sail-boat tug 
 ging at its anchor as it strove towards the shore. 
 
 But she did not see a man who stood braced against 
 the gale by the aid of the two upright oars he held 
 planted in the sand. The small rowboat was at his 
 feet placed for launching if need be, and coatless and 
 shoeless he peered into the storm-driven spray, watch 
 ing each wave crest crashing on the rock beside him 
 if only that crippled little craft might strike the beach 
 instead of the wall of brown boulders! 
 
 But it did not. There was the sharp crackle of 
 splintered timbers, and then a white face with closed 
 eyes under the green water. Once it was drawn back as 
 if to the maw of the hungry sea, but when it appeared 
 again the man followed it into the surf. 
 
 When Monica was conscious of anything but the 
 shock of water in the ears, and the cutting pain in the 
 lungs, she found herself being rolled on the sand by 
 a man whose forehead had an ugly gash from which 
 the blood ran. It had made a hideous mark down his 
 cheek and neck, and the shoulder of his shirt was 
 soaked by it. 
 
 She put up her hand weakly, and touched his cheek. 
 
 " This time the flood did not divide us ! " she whis 
 pered. 
 
 He thought her delirious, and as she sank again into 
 unconsciousness he lifted her, and staggering in the 
 gale under the dead weight, made his way up the path 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 289 
 
 to the cottage, laid his burden on the long seat in the 
 veranda, opened a window enabling him to unbolt a 
 side door, made a raid on pantry and sideboard, and 
 when she next wakened it was with the stinging of raw 
 brandy in her throat, her own brandy in her own 
 house ! She was wrapped in a blanket like a mummy 
 while the man was striking matches and starting a fire. 
 
 He was still coatless and shoeless and dripping. 
 He smiled at her over his shoulder as she drew a deep, 
 audible breath, and reached out one hand, patting her 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Good girl!" he said, approvingly; but she made 
 no reply, only stared at him as he adjusted the kindling 
 and sent the flames leaping high in the old chimney. 
 
 Then, unmindful of his gruesome appearance, or 
 her silence and frightened eyes, he unwound the blan 
 ket from about her and gathered her close close in 
 his arms. 
 
 "You must not! You must not!" she mut 
 tered, striving to evade his lips; but he held her pro 
 testing hand and laughed as she sank back in his arms, 
 breathless from his kisses. 
 
 "Must I not?" he demanded, in fond derision. 
 "Don t you know that you are mine my treasure 
 trove ! I stole you from the sea, shall I give you up 
 again? And you love me, you know you do! You 
 stopped the Twilight letters because you loved me! 
 You have frozen me and mocked me, and put me in 
 hell because you loved me ! And now now you have 
 
290 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 applied for that divorce because you love me; and I 
 have come at last for my own, my very own, because 
 you love me ! " 
 
 "Nell!" she whispered, sobbingly. 
 
 But he smiled, and drew her turned-away face 
 towards him, that he could look in her eyes. 
 
 "Nell is somewhere east of that hurricane on her 
 wedding trip," he observed; u and with Tony along 
 she will heed the war of the elements as little as you 
 and I do here." 
 
 " Nell and Tony?" 
 
 All her world was changing, and he watched the 
 reflection of the changes in the eyes he had thought of 
 as shadowed flame. The shadows were drifting far, 
 and hope was lighting new fires there. For the first 
 time she dared meet his look without fear. 
 
 "And you know the letters and and all?" 
 
 " All ! " he stated, promptly. " My heart was clam 
 oring to tell it to me from the first moment, but you 
 lied so wonderfully. God! how you tortured me! 
 Will you make amends? will you? You are mine 
 now; no human thing shall ever come between us 
 again. Do you know that you went into the long sleep 
 under that water and that I I brought you back into 
 life ? You reached your hand to me down there when 
 you said The flood could not divide us. You were 
 half unconscious, you did not know, but " 
 
 "Ah!" she breathed, lifting her hand and drawing 
 his head more close, "but I did knowl Oh, Love, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 291 
 
 Love, how blind you were! That other time the 
 flood of the San Juan River when I rode " 
 
 " When you rode I" 
 
 "And you saw me, and did not remember," she 
 went on softly, "and I looked at you, and never 
 forgot! So close our trails, and then the world be 
 tween! Yes, don t let me go from you again I will 
 make amends ! " 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 wreckage along the north shore when the 
 usual equinoctial and the unusual hurricane ar 
 rived on the same date, left the beaches strewn with 
 wreckage. 
 
 Land and shore had suffered in that houses were 
 unroofed, as well as seagoing craft dragged under and 
 thrown back in fragments on the shore. For six hours 
 the tempest crashed, followed by floods of rain, 
 making investigation of damages most difficult. 
 
 A steamer had gone ashore south of Dacy s Har 
 bor, and that tragedy monopolized the local wires to 
 the extent that the Dacys found it impossible to secure 
 detailed information concerning the manner in which 
 the storm had dealt with their own shore property. 
 Telephone wires were down, and chaos ruled along 
 the coast. Hettie Craig, hastening north, was filled 
 with dread of the dangers for Mrs. Wayne during the 
 forty-eight hours of her absence the accounts of the 
 storm were so terrible, and the house so alone, abso 
 lutely isolated by the tempest and as she read on the 
 train the newspaper accounts of the wreckage and loss 
 of life, she was conscious of the wish that Mrs. Wayne 
 would at least keep enough in touch with the outer 
 world to have a telephone installed in the cottage. She 
 
 292 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 293 
 
 need not give any attention to it unless she chose, yet 
 in case of an emergency 
 
 Her thought on the subject was interrupted by a fa 
 miliar voice, and from behind her paper she caught 
 sight of the back of Mr. Dacy s head. He was greet 
 ing a shore neighbor, who, like himself, was bound 
 northward to see personally as to damages done by the 
 unusual storm, and repairs to be arranged for ere 
 winter. 
 
 " Yes," he was saying, " it is a nuisance to have to 
 run back just after getting packed and away; but there 
 is the Wayne cottage as well as our own, and the 
 man supposed to be in charge of my place can t be 
 reached out helping with the wrecks, I suppose 
 so we thought we would run up, Wayne and me." 
 
 Hettie fairly held her breath to listen, but the rum 
 ble of the train drowned their voices as it moved out 
 of a station. 
 
 The name of Wayne did not convey to her any 
 special interest. She knew Mrs. Dacy s name had 
 been Wayne, but of what use this secret hurried jour 
 ney of hers to a strange city for the letters and other 
 personal things of Mrs. Wayne if the hurricane was 
 sending her relatives to inspect her cottage and see 
 that it was safe? 
 
 Of course they would see it was inhabited, and her 
 privacy would be ended! 
 
 The mind of the girl worked very fast to plan how 
 she could get out of the depot at Gloucester and se- 
 
294 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 cure a conveyance to reach the shore before the more 
 experienced travelers. She had a deadly dread of 
 automobiles, but of course that was the most certain 
 way of leaving Mr. Dacy behind and warning Mrs. 
 Wayne. 
 
 The weather had turned slightly colder after the 
 storm, and there would be a cheery fire in the old fire 
 place, and smoke! If she could only get there in 
 time to erase all evidence of occupancy, or at the worst 
 assume the care of the place under a written order 
 and help Mrs. Wayne to remain personally in the 
 background! She concluded that would be best; for 
 the stay of Mr. Dacy would be brief, a day perhaps, 
 and it would be easy to manage secrecy for a day. 
 
 She was all aglow with her little plans to help the 
 woman who had helped her. To the man with Mr. 
 Dacy she gave little heed, only noting that he was a 
 stranger, middle-aged, stout, with a heavy face and 
 dark, restless eyes, extremely well dressed, and very 
 much bored. He grumbled about the quality of the 
 whiskey in the highball he had drunk before lunch, and 
 brought forth a silver flask of which he was generous 
 in his desire that Mr. Dacy sample the contents. 
 
 " It won t do, Wayne," said the latter, shakmg his 
 head, "this is our Sunday school route, and I have to 
 travel over it other days with your aunt, who is con 
 tinually on the prohibition ticket. You d better cut it 
 out until we get in the open, and if there is nothing in 
 the house to eat that flask may be a life preserver. * 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 295 
 
 Hettie fastened a veil over the simple little hat 
 Monica had found for her, and as the train slowed up 
 she was already at the car door, a suitcase in her hand, 
 waiting nervously to step to the platform at the first 
 possible moment. 
 
 "Shapely little filly/ remarked the gentleman with 
 Mr. Dacy, and shrugged at the quick gesture of re 
 proof lest the girl hear. 
 
 "Oh, the national flower * touch-me-not ! " he 
 observed, with careless good humor. " A man would 
 need to get acclimated again to that sort traveling 
 alone." 
 
 Mr. Dacy reminded him of the former reference to 
 the "Sunday school route," and added that the girl 
 might hear. 
 
 The girl did hear, but stood rigid, not turning lest 
 Mr. Dacy recognize her even through the veil a 
 rather unlikely possibility, as she had been employed 
 by his wife but for a short time, and had come but 
 slightly to his notice. When gentlemen went down to 
 the little cabin in the cove, her grandfather had kept 
 her as much as possible in the background. 
 
 She had a slight wonder that Mr. Dacy was abroad 
 with a man who spoke thus, though of course she knew 
 that gentlemen out in fishing parties were rather free 
 sometimes, and of course if it was Mr. Dacy s 
 nephew 
 
 It never occurred to her that it might be Mrs. 
 Wayne s husband who lived abroad, and of whom no 
 
296 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 one must ask a question in the Dacy household. All 
 knew there was some scandal, and that the Dacys were 
 humiliated by it, and devoted to his girl wife, and 
 beyond that Hettie knew nothing. She had mentally 
 pictured the man as a very satanic-looking creature, 
 very dark and sinister, clothed in black, and wearing 
 diamond scarfpin, studs, and sleeve links, and eyes 
 ever restless, glittering like his own jewels. 
 
 Some such fancy was in her girlish mind, and the 1 
 careless, flirtatious man with the smile and the bored 
 expression did not at all fit the picture. He looked 
 like any stout, well-fed, prosperous man, who had 
 perhaps taken a drink too much; and after the years of 
 life with her grandfather she knew that such things 
 could happen with even good men. 
 
 So, with a frightened, fast-beating heart, she trusted 
 herself to an automobile at the station, and giving the 
 name of the road to the chauffeur, was whirled swiftly 
 through the town and out to the far shore, looking 
 back occasionally to see if by any chance there was 
 another machine in sight; but her thoughts were all 
 of Mr. Dacy, his companion was not even remem 
 bered. 
 
 She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the 
 cottage, and telling the chauffeur to wait, fairly ran up 
 the path and into the open door. Monica stood there 
 smiling and looking out past her to the waiting car. 
 
 u What a flitting fairy you are!" she said, reaching 
 
The IV oman of the Twilight 297 
 
 for a purse in a cabinet drawer. u Did you spend 
 all your pennies and hold the car waiting for toll?" 
 
 "Oh, no! It is Mr. Dacy on the same train 1 
 He did not see me, but he is coming to learn the dam 
 age done by the storm, so he will come here too 
 and I thought perhaps " 
 
 u You thought perhaps I would need a waiting 
 chariot in case I wanted to avoid him," suggested 
 Monica, as the girl hesitated. "Well, I don t think 
 I mind Uncle Dacy, so pay your man and come in. 
 You have been a good, faithful little helper." 
 
 Hettie did as she was bidden, but wondered a little 
 at Mrs. Wayne s sudden change of feeling as to utter 
 privacy; and while she put aside her traveling clothes 
 and made tea, Monica looked over the mail she had 
 brought, noting with a smile two envelopes with the 
 writing of Sargent. How determined he had been 
 to find her, and how wonderful, wonderful the finding 
 had been! 
 
 As Hettie voiced her own dread of what the hurri 
 cane might have meant to Mrs. Wayne, the latter sim 
 ply stated that her boat had been destroyed in it, 
 which was no doubt a trifle as compared with other 
 tragedies along the shore. No, the hurricane had 
 brought her no losses. 
 
 Then, opening one of the envelopes on which was 
 the stamp of a religious sisterhood in Manhattan, she 
 uttered a little cry of surprise and delight. She had 
 
298 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 supposed it some appeal for chanty, and it proved 
 to be a letter from Dona Carmel, now a lay sister in a 
 Spanish convent or shelter for homeless girls in New 
 York. Her vocation had taken her to Mexico, then 
 to Cuba, and now, after many changes, she was near 
 her little Querida, whose happiness she prayed for. 
 
 The eyes of her " Querida " were wet with tears at 
 the fondness showing through the lines, and as to the 
 prayers the changes had surely been many, and the 
 years had been long, but it had come at last the 
 happiness ! 
 
 "I have brought you good news?" ventured Net 
 tie, noting the smile, the tears, and the smiles again. 
 
 " Yes, it is dear news, happy news," replied Monica, 
 as she slipped the two unopened envelopes under the 
 surplice of her waist the two letters not to be 
 opened except when alone. " All the world seems full 
 of happy news, and look at the wonderful sunlight on 
 the water! The glow there is like a promise that 
 there will never be storms again." 
 
 She was sipping her tea and gazing out over the 
 water where, only an hour before, Sargent had sailed 
 north into what looked like a rosy sea of gladness. 
 All the glamor of those wonderful storm-bound hours 
 was over her, and the low sun lit up sea and sky as if 
 touched by the glory of the love days. 
 
 How narrow all the life she had lived without 
 knowing joy beyond the desire for work well done! 
 How selfish that seemed to her now her own work. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 299 
 
 But to be a part of the work he might do, to be a 
 part of the life he must live, that was as if the very 
 skies had opened and closed her into sanctuary with 
 him! 
 
 That Love had been their only priest was not a 
 matter of which she even thought, unless in joy that 
 thus the world and all thought of the world was shut 
 out beyond the boundaries of the mighty elements. In 
 a little while, a very little while, the world could know, 
 and they could walk openly hand in hand; yet, while 
 she treasured the thought, she was so sure that no 
 sanction of the world would ever make her more the 
 other half of his life than their love vows under the 
 fury and harmony of the mighty tempest. It had been 
 as if the hurricane had folded curtains of secrecy 
 around their enchanted walls. 
 
 And Dacy had come ! It was just as well; she need 
 be hidden from no one now since the one man had 
 found her, and claimed her, and made her queen as 
 only Love can! 
 
 Alone in her bedchamber she opened and read the 
 two letters one containing the card on which she had 
 written the brief message for Mrs. Dacy, and what a 
 mad, jubilant, imploring letter it was ! The other was 
 more brief, telling her how useless it was to hide her 
 self, since he looked forward to a long life-time, and 
 all of it would be given to the one search if need be. 
 
 There was a letter from Hallet informing her that 
 he had rushed the application for divorce; in fact, he 
 
3OO The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 had made all preparations in the summer with the 
 hope that she would some day ask just that service 
 from him. He would like, of course, to know where 
 she was, and when they might hope to see her again; 
 but her action in leaving met with his approval, for 
 otherwise the Dacys might have tried to influence her, 
 making her at least temporarily unhappy, and even 
 Mr. Wayne 
 
 She did not care in the least to read what the Dacys 
 and Mr. Wayne might try to do. They seemed to 
 belong to a life she had lived ages ago, and she put 
 the letter aside, and slipped the other two back into 
 her bosom as if to keep the thought of the one man 
 close close in a tangible way. She had walked so 
 long in the very shadow of his thought, and the avowal 
 of it was so sweet, and new, and strange, that it would 
 seem less like a wonderful dream if she had his 
 written words there on her breast. 
 
 She was going down to tell Hettie of Dona Carmel, 
 and the home for girls where she could be placed a 
 while, a little while dear Dona Carmel, who had 
 shielded her own girlhood as best she knew! Then, 
 after a brief season, another home might be arranged 
 
 of that other home she dared not speak as yet; 
 but the thought of it was sweet beyond words, and she 
 had for Hettie the protective feeling earned by right 
 of benefits conferred. Ah ! there were such Keautiful 
 years to be lived, and a wonderful home to be made 
 
 somewhere? And the little stray who was so shy 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 301 
 
 would have a little niche in it. Monica was too much 
 absorbed by her own thoughts to give special thought 
 to anyone, but after the awakening to the artistic pos 
 sibilities of Hettie as a model, it was made easy to 
 include her in the vague love-lit dreams of the future ; 
 she would fit into any background without discord, and 
 was such a fragile little blossom of a girl that it gave 
 one a feeling of strength to make plans for her. 
 
 Monica s own life in its shock of joy, and its glory 
 in the days to be, felt generous to all the world, so 
 sure now that there was a joyous castle of dreams to 
 come true for everyone if only a little help was given ! 
 
 Dreaming thus, she came slowly down the stairway, 
 halting at the window for a moment to gaze out over 
 the deep blue of the sea, not yet smooth, for the rollers 
 were carrying white crests, and they sounded wicked 
 as they crashed thunderously against the great rocks. 
 
 But the sun had come out with a glory of reflected 
 lights, and the autumn leaves on the low-growing wild 
 things were splashes of rich color against the line of 
 blue water. Over that sparkle of the blue he had 
 sailed north to the village, where the boat had been 
 secured for his secret search of her. No one along 
 the shore would know that a strange craft had 
 anchored thus long in her little cove. Even the fisher 
 men, seeing it there, had supposed it her own, made 
 snug and safe from the storm. 
 
 As she looked the way he had gone she breathed a 
 sigh of utter content and touched his letters against 
 
302 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 her breast. In a little while, a very little while, she 
 would be held again in his arms, she would hear 
 
 She went on down the stairs, smiling. The tinkle 
 of china told her Hettie was arranging supper, and a 
 dimple deepened in her cheek at the certainty that 
 Hettie would conclude a tremendous appetite in the 
 mistress of the home. The larder she had stocked 
 before leaving was sadly depleted. 
 
 But Hettie could never know that one cup and plate 
 was put aside from common use as a holy thing of 
 sacrament his cup from which they had each drank 
 in pledge ! All the world had been changed for her by 
 that pledge, the joyous, wonderful world! 
 
 Through the window she saw a man sauntering 
 along the cliff, a stranger who looked down at the 
 white lines of foam against the beach or the dark 
 rocks. No doubt people would begin now to patrol 
 the shore because of wreckage washing back and forth. 
 
 She gave the stroller no further thought until Hettie 
 came in hurriedly from the veranda, her big eyes wide 
 hesitating, embarrassed, yet someway afraid. 
 
 " It is a man he was on the train he saw me 
 and and is coming in ! " 
 
 "Hettie, Hettie," said Mrs. Wayne, smilingly, "a 
 man saw you on the train, and is actually coming in. 
 Then, perhaps," she added, teasingly, "you had 
 better let me ask his intentions." 
 
 Hettie, abashed at the raillery, and with an uncom 
 fortable feeling as she remembered his comment on 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 303 
 
 her figure, went to the door with lagging steps and 
 silent tongue. Even when she opened the door she 
 only held it ajar in a hesitating way, waiting for the 
 man to declare his business. 
 
 But he only bestowed on her an amused glance, and, 
 placing his hand against the door, pushed it wide open 
 and walked past her. 
 
 So quiet had been his entrance that he was stand 
 ing, smiling, and self-satisfied, in the archway, while 
 Monica on the window seat was still waiting to hear 
 the voice of the stranger at the door. 
 
 For a heavy man he moved very softly, and his smile 
 widened as he saw Monica rise to her feet in amazed 
 protest against the slightly swaggering entrance of a 
 stranger. 
 
 "Well, Monica?" he remarked, easily. 
 
 She stepped backward, staring at him in horror, 
 while Hettie, following him, was poised as for flight. 
 
 Mr. Wayne looked from one to the other grimly. 
 
 "Not an ardent greeting," he observed. "Run 
 away, little girl, and play," he added, turning to Het 
 tie, who looked in vain for a gesture from Mrs. 
 Wayne, and, seeing none, shrank back into the dining 
 room. 
 
 "To put it mildly, your regard is not flattering," 
 he said, crossing to a chair and dropping into it heav 
 ily. " One would think I had changed as much as you, 
 but in a different way." 
 
 She still stood with that perplexed stare as at a 
 
304 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 stranger. Even his voice was changed and husky, and 
 came from a fat throat in which there was not a line 
 left of his one-time grace. His dark, restless eyes 
 seemed smaller because of the extra flesh, and his 
 face was mottled with the signs of the opposite of 
 simple life. The small hand in which he held hat and 
 cigar looked puffy and strange for a man of his bulk. 
 There was no trace of the man to whom she had turned 
 freely in her childhood. Neither girl nor child would 
 go with trust to this man. 
 
 u Gad, they were right; you are a looker I" he de 
 cided, as his gaze traveled from her face over her 
 figure and back to her eyes. "I m back for keeps, 
 and you can spend my money. So settle down, girlie, 
 and talk it over. Why the devil didn t some of them 
 write me long ago and tell me what a beauty you 
 were? The foolishness of ever trying to get divorced 
 from you!" 
 
 Monica felt herself shrink and burn under his 
 appraising eyes. 
 
 " You must go away," she heard herself saying, in a 
 low, shocked tone. " You must go at once ; don t look 
 at me like that, you you are insulting!" 
 
 "Now, now, now," he said, soothingly, "be good 
 and listen. We don t need the lawyers for this not 
 you and I. You used to have a lot of savy for a 
 kid little fighting wildcat but I tell you I give in. 
 You can have everything your own way; make your 
 own terms. Why with your looks and my money " 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 305 
 
 "Stop!" she cried, sharply. "Are you trying to 
 buy a woman in the market-place, and lost your way? * 
 
 "Little wildcat!" he repeated, smilingly. "Yes, I 
 know I did not play a square game, and your pride 
 was hurt, but I tell you I am back to eat out of your 
 hand, and " 
 
 "Ugh!" and she held out her hand and looked at 
 it. " I should hate my own hand if you touched it ! " 
 
 "Bad as that?" and his smile was not nice. "All 
 right then, no hand-holding in the game, and we will 
 settle it on a business basis. I come back, buy you a 
 town and country house, a string of horses you used 
 to be keen on horses and a yacht; they tell me you 
 are keen on boating now. You invite the guests, your 
 own choice, and I will foot the bills. You keep your 
 own apartments, and I double cross my heart to be a 
 respectful guest. How is that? I want a house on 
 this side of the water. I can t have it without a 
 woman, and you are the right woman. By jove! I 
 never even dreamed you could develop into what you 
 are. I ve been a fool!" 
 
 "You are a greater one now!" she said, coldly. 
 " My lawyer has filed application for absolute divorce, 
 and you will be free to give all your money, and your 
 name, to the one woman who has given the best years 
 of her life to you." 
 
 " Nothing doing ! " he returned, briefly. " I tell you 
 I want to come to this side, and she can t come back. 
 Even her own folks would bar her out. Have some 
 
306 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 sense, Monica; a man can t mend things a woman 
 breaks even a wedding ring can t do it." 
 
 " You brute! " she breathed, in utter disgust. "You 
 would make the woman pay, pay, while you would 
 come back and buy a place for yourself alone." 
 
 " Oh, I will make a settlement on her, so you needn t 
 worry about the other woman," he assured her, easily; 
 14 also she has quarreled with me, and quit. These are 
 the things I wanted to talk over without lawyers, and 
 I was in luck to run up here with Dacy. He told me 
 the house was closed. Now be a wise girl, think over 
 the money you will need to run things, and let Hallet 
 know. Consult him about it first if you choose ; he is a 
 good deal of a prude, but he will see it is the only 
 way to settle things. Now be sensible, and don t stare 
 at me as if I was one of your Mexican lovers you were 
 itching to knife." 
 
 "I have listened to you," she said, coldly. "Listen 
 to me, for I will never talk with you again." 
 
 " Oh, yes you will, Monica ! " 
 
 "Don t call me Monica!" she burst out with a sort 
 of fury at the sound of her name on his lips. "You 
 fill me with a disgust I once thought I could never have 
 for you ! I thought I was merely indifferent, as I used 
 to be, but I find, I find that I could hate you more than 
 I could ever have hated the Mexicans you sneer at! 
 Oh, you beast ! to come like this for traffic in the life 
 of one woman after throwing aside another ! " 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 307 
 
 "Easy, easy!" he said, and his lips were white. 
 " Remember, you are my wife." 
 
 " You mean you married me ! " she retorted. " That 
 alone does not make me a wife. You make a bargain 
 with me with a child and then in a drunken hour 
 you tried to break it, and I ran away! I have never 
 told your family of that, or how you found me and 
 promised to send me to the school I chose if only I 
 would not make a scandal, and make you a laughing 
 stock! But I will tell them, if you ever come near me 
 again. I fought you then, and I 11 fight you now ! " 
 
 "Not now," and he looked her over with a slow, 
 malicious smile. "You have your claws clipped now, 
 my lady. You had better be good and play ball, for 
 your little penny whistle divorce machine has slipped 
 a cog it s all off." 
 
 He was so slow, so watchful, so sure, that she turned 
 suddenly cold with terror of the unknown. 
 
 " It is not true ! " she breathed, watching him fear 
 fully, her hand over the letters on her breast as if to 
 hold the writer more close. The ugly smile in 
 Wayne s eyes made her sick. He was white with a 
 sort of cold fury, and the brandy from the silver flask 
 aroused in him possibilities hidden usually under his 
 careless indifference to most things. But he was not 
 indifferent now. She had stung him into a white rage, 
 and he watched the color slip from her face, and 
 smiled. 
 
308 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "It is not?" And this time there was almost 
 a plea in her broken tone "I have George Hallet s 
 letter he said " 
 
 "Yes, no doubt," and he lit his cigar, threw the 
 match in the fire, and picked up his hat; "but when 
 your perfect lady of a lawyer wrote you that letter 
 he did not know that you meant to nullify the divorce 
 action by coming to the shore to meet your husband." 
 
 "Nullify? Coming to meet you!" she gasped. 
 
 "Precisely; our presence together under this roof 
 has wiped the divorce action in New York off the 
 slate." 
 
 "No! You are saying that to to frighten me. 
 It is not true or if it is, I will apply again, here 
 in this state." 
 
 "In this state?" and his smile grew more sardonic. 
 " In this state you would have no grounds for divorce. 
 I have repeatedly sent money for your maintenance. 
 The fact that you ignore it does not alter the law in 
 the case. In this state only my failure to provide for 
 you would allow you a divorce." 
 
 She seemed to feel the world of her dreams slipping 
 far into the shadows as she leaned white and tense 
 against the table, staring at his smiling, insolent face. 
 
 " It is not true ! It is not true ! " she insisted. " I 
 will go somewhere, I will find a way, I will " 
 
 "You will do nothing of the kind," he interrupted. 
 " You just mentioned that crazy flight of yours from 
 the Los Angeles hotel. I d forgotten the bad hour 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 309 
 
 or two you gave me. You have spoiled your case by 
 reminding me of it. I will fight any attempt you make 
 for divorce, so you had better be good. You have no 
 case on desertion, for you deserted me the day after 
 our wedding. I can prove that if I want to." 
 
 " But, but, you promised it was understood " 
 
 "Nonsense! No judge would believe your story 
 that the marriage was not a marriage, or that the 
 intent was not marriage. People don t do those fool 
 ish things. You would be laughed at," and he smiled 
 down in her frightened eyes. " Do you see now where 
 you stand? You are my wife and you are going to 
 remain my wife!" He grasped her wrist with a 
 quick, vicious movement, drawing her face closer to 
 his. " I did not give a damn one way or the other 
 for you personally in this matter," he stated, watch 
 ing her with half-closed, devouring eyes, " but you Ve 
 changed that. You are mine, and I m going to have 
 you ! I was a fool to let you go that other time, and 
 it shan t happen again. No matter what the price I 
 pay, I am going to have you! Do you understand?" 
 
 When Hettie heard the door slam, she came in and 
 found that Mrs. Wayne had slipped to the floor beside 
 the window seat. With her chin resting on her hands 
 she was gazing northward over the sea. 
 
 The girl thought at first that she was weeping, and 
 stood, pitiful and hesitating, for Wayne s last words 
 had been loud enough for her to hear. 
 
 But Monica was not weeping. Her eyes were dry 
 
310 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 and cold, and her face was pale as she turned at the 
 girl s entrance. 
 
 "We will go away tomorrow, Hettie," she said, 
 quietly. "I will leave you with a dear woman in 
 New York for a while, and afterwards we can make 
 plans; but I am going out of this world, this prison 
 of beastly laws tomorrow!" 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Wayne ! " began the girl, in terror at the 
 white face and the hard, strange words; but Monica 
 smiled at her faintly. 
 
 " No, don t be worried," she said, reassuringly. " I 
 did not tell you that I was near drowning in the storm 
 the day you left, and that I came out of the surf into 
 a new life in a new world. I will make that new 
 world for myself, and we will go away tomorrow." 
 
 Later, Hettie slipped out to look over the cliff for 
 the boat, but only shattered timbers were strewn along 
 the shore. She was filled with awe at the thought that 
 a woman, alone, had gone under that water and come 
 out alive, but in the face of Mrs. Wayne s silence 
 dared ask no questions. 
 
 She did, however, comprehend that the cove was as 
 the very jaws of death in a tempest, and that anyone 
 going under those waves could actually feel that the 
 old life was lived out and left behind! 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 T^HE long, beautiful autumn had merged into the 
 * season of furs and flurries of snow, and the holi 
 days were past, and Glyndon Wayne had drifted from 
 Massachusetts to Florida and back to Manhattan, 
 without making any headway as to establishing himself 
 on an American country estate; and to his disgust and 
 chagrin his own relatives showed no great eagerness 
 to assist him. Even Mrs. Dacy, despite all her loyalty 
 to family, found him an awkward guest. 
 
 He was ignored in clubs, and Dacy, after hearing 
 his side of the question, made it clear that, while his 
 other business could remain in their office, neither he 
 nor Hallet would consider any proposition towards a 
 compromise with Monica when they found her. 
 
 For she seemed, indeed, to have faded out of their 
 world, and all his efforts to locate her failed. He 
 had attorneys endeavor to ascertain if she had estab 
 lished residence in California or Nevada with the idea 
 of trying there for the divorce he had spoiled for her 
 in New York; but no trace of her was found. He 
 could give them little to identify her by except her 
 name. She had closed her studio. Rosa remained in 
 charge, but all of Wayne s money could not bribe 
 
 3 
 
312 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Rosa to tell where her mistress was if she had known, 
 which she did not. 
 
 In fact, only one quiet, little girl in all Manhattan 
 could have told them aught of the absentee; and Het- 
 tie felt very important at this evidence of trust, and 
 periodically went, with a certain excitement, to the 
 studio for Monica s mail, always veiled, lest she be 
 seen by any of the Dacy or Wayne connections. 
 
 And it was through that slender, veiled figure that 
 the spies employed by Wayne secured the first trace 
 to what might be the retreat of Monica. Everyone 
 calling at the studio was watched until proven uninter 
 esting; but a slender, veiled girl who never spoke except 
 to Rosa, who came regularly, and who was followed 
 each time to the home of a Spanish sisterhood this 
 was the first item they could report to which any 
 significance could be attached. 
 
 And their report threw Glyndon Wayne into a 
 perfect fury of rage. 
 
 A convent! a Spanish convent! Of course, if she 
 should go to any it would be a Spanish one. He had 
 never thought of that, yet the thought, once suggested, 
 grew and had plenty to feed upon, and he stormed 
 into Dacy s office and expressed himself. 
 
 "Right here under your noses !" he fumed. "Of 
 course, with that damned church painting, and her 
 Spanish, she would have a pull and get in where she 
 thinks no one dare follow. But she will find her 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 313 
 
 mistake. What is money for if it can t open gates? 
 Let me once be sure she is there, and I 11 " 
 
 "Stop and think it over," suggested Dacy. "Sup 
 pose your wife is there, suppose she elects to spend 
 the rest of her days there doing church decorations, do 
 you think you could find a lawyer of good standing to 
 give you either aid or comfort towards getting her out? 
 Hallet has your record, you know, and he would fight 
 for her if she was back of bars double-locked and never 
 to be opened." 
 
 " Hallet s a fool, and will die a pauper," prophesied 
 Wayne, darkly. 
 
 "Perhaps," agreed Hallet s partner, "but he would 
 see to it that you got considerable publicity of the 
 wrong sort. Can t you see that if that sisterhood is, 
 for any reason, sheltering her, your record would not 
 show up very well in the public press as an opponent 
 of the church? And there would be a very great deal 
 of press work, Wayne. It isn t often the reporters 
 get such rich material. The things they would do to 
 you would be many, and you d better go and talk it 
 over with your Aunt Martha." 
 
 "Talk hell! I 11 go to that greaser shebang and 
 see for myself. These fools have wasted weeks and a 
 barrel of money, and the girl right here under their 
 noses ! " Then he stopped short and regarded Dacy 
 scowlingly. "Are you dead sure your own folks, your 
 office, has not known where she is?" 
 
314 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " No, I can t speak for anyone but myself," acknowl 
 edged Dacy. " I certainly do not know, but I should 
 not be at all surprised if you are right, and if she is 
 there, you might as well give up; you will not dare do 
 a thing." 
 
 " I 11 dare find out without any more agents in the 
 case," retorted Wayne, u and I 11 do it now. You can 
 come along if you want to," he added, in a half- 
 resentful, half-challenging manner. 
 
 Dacy hesitated the fraction of a second, and then 
 reached for his hat. 
 
 " Unofficially I am willing to be among those 
 present," he said, amiably, and a little later he was 
 being whirled uptown in Wayne s car. The latter 
 looked a trifle surprised at his acceptance of the invita 
 tion. He had been made conscious that even good- 
 natured, easy-going Dacy usually had business which 
 prevented acceptance of so small a courtesy as a car 
 ride. 
 
 The machine slowed up before one of the old 
 residences in a one-time region of fashion. A metal 
 fence enclosed the old hedge of the yard, and the ivy 
 over the little metal balcony fluttered its green leaves 
 in the face of winter. 
 
 The silver nameplate on the door assured them of 
 their destination, but before Wayne could ring, the 
 door was opened by an aged nun seated in a great chair 
 in the hall as if ever on guard. She was very small, 
 dark, and entirely Spanish, and she listened politely 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 315 
 
 while Wayne made his statement in English that he 
 would like the favor of speech with the Superior. 
 
 "Si, Senores" she said, and preceded them to the 
 reception room, where she left them and rustled along 
 the hall. 
 
 Both men looked about the room with unusual inter 
 est, the inlaid floor and finely-carved marble of the 
 mantel gave an air of old-time magnificence with which 
 the black carved furniture was in satisfying harmony. 
 Some old Spanish canvases gave color here and there 
 A Madonna, with drooping face and a wonderful 
 blue robe, and the Divine Shepherd, with a white lamb 
 nestling close to the sheltering breast. Occasionally 
 the voices of women could be heard as a door opened 
 above, and each listened, in the silence of the room, for 
 the tones of a voice they knew. 
 
 But they did not speak to each other. The 
 atmosphere of the place was such an entire change 
 from the bustle and rush and noise of the streets, that 
 it called for a certain readjustment, and Dacy leaned 
 back and eyed Wayne in silence, wondering grimly 
 how he would fit himself to meet the situation. 
 
 Then there was heard again the soft rustle, and the 
 aged nun settled herself in the throne-like chair in the 
 hall, and a younger woman, with clear eyes and a 
 sweet, alert expression, entered, inclining her head 
 slightly as she glanced at Wayne, and then spoke to 
 Dacy. 
 
 " Sister Aguada speaks no English," she said, with a 
 
316 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 gesture towards the guard in the hall, "and our 
 Mother, the Superior, is not here to see you at this 
 hour, but I will listen." 
 
 "This gentleman, Mr. Wayne, thinks his wife is 
 here, in retreat," and Dacy stepped back with a plain 
 indication that he spoke to her through courtesy, but 
 that Wayne should do his own talking. 
 
 Your wife, Setior?" and her brows went up in 
 amused surprise. "But this our house is not a 
 retreat for wives, not at all ! " 
 
 Wayne felt that she was laughing at him despite her 
 cool courtesy, and the color flamed in his face. 
 
 "There is a girl here, or a woman, who leaves this 
 house, veiled, every week and goes to my wife s studio 
 on Fifty-seventh street. This has continued for many 
 weeks. I have reason to believe that girl is my wife, 
 and I want to see her." 
 
 " How strange, Senor, that you have a wife, and go 
 to seek her away from your home," she said, coldly. 
 " It is quite true this is a shelter for the homeless girls, 
 and there is one who goes veiled at times. She is the 
 friend, the protege of Sister Teresa. It may be that 
 Sister Teresa can see Mr. Wayne when I have told her 
 what you say. It may be, but I do not know." 
 
 And with a frigid bend of the head she turned away 
 without looking at either of them, and, speaking a few 
 low words in Spanish to the nun in the hall, she passed 
 out of their sight. Dacy glanced at Wayne, who looked 
 after her, frowningly, his head thrust forward, his jaw 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 317 
 
 set in an ugly way, and his whole attitude indicating 
 that his impulse was to follow and find what he came 
 for. 
 
 "Think it over, and think it slow," suggested Dacy. 
 "This looks like one place where you have to take 
 what they give you and look pleasant, if you pan." 
 
 Wayne was not in the mood for pleasantries, but he 
 did straighten up as the frank, cool nun returned, fol 
 lowed by another, with older eyes, dark and sad, and a 
 strange, intent gaze as she turned to Dacy, and then 
 to the other man, who made a choking sound in his 
 throat and involuntarily stepped back as if he had seen 
 a ghost. 
 
 Sister Teresa did not bend her head or salute him 
 in any way; in fact, her head was held very high, and 
 the strange look in her eyes seemed to come from 
 above him and judge him. 
 
 "Ah, the Senor Wayne?" she said at last. "And 
 you come to seek all that you cared not to guard?" 
 
 "Dona Carmel!" he muttered, staring. 
 
 "There is no longer any Dona Carmel, and there is 
 no one in this house who wishes to know you, Senor" 
 
 "But, Carmel, listen, listen to me!" he said, 
 hurriedly taking a step towards her, and becoming 
 more eager as she moved backward from him. " You 
 don t believe in divorce, you can t your religion is 
 against it. You are just the person to set her right. 
 Why, it is a duty you can t ignore, and you can have 
 anything you want to ask. Your Order can have any- 
 
318 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 thing you want to ask," and he glanced at the younger 
 nun to see the effect of his words, " an endowment, a 
 building, anything! * 
 
 He stopped to give her a chance to speak, but she 
 only looked at him as if, like Monica, she was trying 
 to trace the careless, graceful visitor of San Juan in 
 the stodgy, dissipated man, whose voice held no note 
 she could recall. 
 
 "Why, you saw us married," he went on. "You 
 know how all right it is; you could influence her, make 
 her see what the duty of a wife is, and I 11 make any 
 settlement, anything you say, any " 
 
 She lifted her hands with a little outward gesture of 
 putting away from her an unpleasant thing. 
 
 "All that I say, Senor Wayne?" she repeated. 
 u Then I say that you give back to her the clean heart 
 of the child you made promise to guard! Yes, Senor, 
 I see you married with her, and I hear that promise; 
 also I thought in that time that it was well. I myself 
 told her it was best my poor, little, alone Querida ! 
 I am to blame, too, always, that I tell her it was best, 
 for her life is broke and her heart is broke ! Yes, 
 Senor, I dress her to marry with you, and she sends 
 back to me there in California the dress your drunk 
 hands have tore from her body that time she run away ! 
 All this I know, and I ask you what you can give to 
 me, or to our Order, to make me say again the word 
 for her to live beside you? What gift is there for her 
 when she has the tired soul and the broke heart at 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 319 
 
 twenty-two years? You will please now to go, Senor; 
 there is not anyone in this home who belongs with you ! 
 This house of shelter, and many houses of shelter, are 
 filled with such girl children as she was whose lives 
 are broke by men like you ! " 
 
 Dacy and the younger nun stood astounded, while 
 Sister Teresa poured out her stinging words of cen 
 sure, and without a further glance at any of them she 
 passed from the room. 
 
 Wayne seemed to crumple down into his clothes at 
 her arraignment; then, recollecting himself, he 
 shrugged his shoulders and tried to smile, but it was 
 rather a ghastly attempt. 
 
 "A lot of talent wasted under that habit," he 
 observed, cynically, and turned to the other nun, who 
 stood waiting. " Perhaps tomorrow I could see your 
 Superior?" 
 
 " I do not think so," she said, without lifting her 
 eyes. " The door is open for you, Senores" 
 
 Dacy never quite knew how he got out of that room 
 where the young nun stood with averted eyes under 
 the picture of the Shepherd, or how he passed the 
 aged nun who held the door open in silence. But he 
 found himself outside with tears in his eyes, his face 
 convulsed, and his hands clenching with the murderous 
 anger of a good-natured, seldom-aroused man. 
 
 "You, you ," he said, glaring at Wayne, but 
 
 words failed him. 
 "Oh, you are an easy gallery to play to," and 
 
320 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Wayne tried to assume a contemptuous superiority as 
 he buttoned his coat and nodded his head over his 
 shoulder towards the door. "Why, I could tell you 
 things about that woman, Dona Carmelita " 
 
 " Go down those steps ! " ordered Dacy, with tears 
 of pure rage and humiliation fairly choking him. 
 
 "Why, say, old man " 
 
 "And go alone, damn you ! " 
 
 Wayne gave him one look, frowning, incredulous, 
 and then walked down the steps. He looked harried, 
 beaten, and disgusted as he dropped into the car and 
 gave the curt order, " Hotel." 
 
 Dacy stood, the tears unheeded on his cheeks, 
 though one or two passers-by looked at him curiously. 
 He wanted to go back and speak to those wonderful 
 women, but he scarcely knew how to go about it. That 
 locked door, with its watchful guardian back of it, 
 would not be easily passed again by him, and after 
 Wayne s car had turned the corner he went slowly 
 down the steps and home to Martha. 
 
 He knew he had turned out of their office their 
 wealthiest client, and that in a business way he had 
 made a bad day of it; also it would be difficult to 
 convey to anyone the influence he had acted under. 
 
 He did not know that he would even try. He 
 wanted to forget it. 
 
 But the thought of Monica, with her six years of 
 silence and her bravery, came up before him as a vision, 
 and struck at his heart. Her strange smile as she had 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 321 
 
 listened to all their endeavors at reconciliation, her 
 shocked protest at the thought of little Lulu, all that 
 the words of Sister Teresa had suggested the 
 bruised, silent, lonely life, and "the broke heart at 
 twenty-two of my poor, little, alone Querida ! " 
 
 He felt as when, a chubby little boy, the big world 
 had brought some hurt to him, and he had wanted to 
 go away alone to cry over it. He could never even 
 tell Monica what he knew or how he felt. Monica 
 who had listened to their lectures and smiled at them, 
 smiled down upon them as upon sheltered children! 
 Monica, whom they had deemed ungirlish and cold, 
 cold when her life, for very shame, had been of 
 forced restraint and silence what blind fools she 
 must have thought them! 
 
 And when a few days later all the Glyndon Wayne 
 business was transferred from their office to a rival 
 firm, Dacy could not feel properly regretful for even 
 the business loss. 
 
 He wrote a little letter to Monica in care of Sister 
 Teresa, and enclosed in it a newspaper clipping con 
 cerning an outgoing steamer. Glyndon Wayne s name 
 was among the passengers sailing for Italy. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 one day Rosa was able to tell him that 
 "Miss Mona" was coming home letters were 
 to be held for her; but beyond that no one was told 
 anything, and there were many curious minds. 
 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville, who had gained entrance to a 
 coveted social circle by the "dog route" strength 
 ened and bulwarked by certain clubs at which Nell 
 Mitford had laughed, came back from Washington, 
 where Lulu had been taken on the arrival of Glyndon 
 Wayne in New York. 
 
 She had decided that he was frightfully unpopular, 
 and that her own success depended on not knowing 
 him in America. 
 
 Of course, if affairs on this side should not turn out 
 well 
 
 So Lulu, glowing with joy over the return, was the 
 very first to run in with a welcome for Monica, follow 
 ing the expressman with a hamper, and Lulu receipted 
 for it at Rosa s request, rather than disturb her 
 mistress. 
 
 "Aren t you awfully glad your Miss Mona is 
 home?" she asked, gleefully. "We are all within 
 reach of each other again. Mrs. Tony Allen is just 
 back from her elopement trip ! " 
 
 3=2 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 323 
 
 "By her ownself?" queried Maum Rosa, pointedly, 
 and Lulu giggled. 
 
 "No; they are still living together, after three 
 whole months of matrimony! All the folks will be in 
 today. Where is Nell s portrait? Let me put it on 
 the easel so it will look just as it did when she stepped 
 off the model stand to run away." 
 
 Rosa humored her whim, and found the canvas, 
 while Lulu sat on the willow trunk and noticed the 
 labels, old and new, pasted over it. 
 
 "Where is Pine Level, Alabama, Rosa?" she asked, 
 noting the latest. 
 
 "Pine Level? Why, Pine Level is where the boat 
 from Miss Mona s place lands at the first railroad, 
 fifteen miles away." 
 
 "Fifteen miles from a railroad! No wonder she 
 calls it The Hermitage. So that s where she has 
 been?" 
 
 Rosa did not reply, but stared at the trunk doubtfully 
 as she selected the key for it. 
 
 "Where you see Pine Level on that?" she finally 
 asked. 
 
 "There; can t you read it?" asked Lulu, with no 
 thought of possible educational lapses in the Georgia 
 pines. 
 
 " Urn grunted Maum Rosa, noncommittally. " I 
 never could read printin very good, but that tab maybe 
 a year old?" 
 
 "No, only three days. Can t you read figures?" 
 
324 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Yes m," said Rosa, unfastening the hasp. 
 
 Lulu fidgeted from one window to the other, 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Wayne sleeping?" she asked at last. 
 
 "She s lying down. I reckon, Miss Lulu, you d 
 better call in later. You may have quite a wait." 
 
 "I I would," returned Lulu, still peering down 
 into the street, " but I asked Mr. Dacy to meet me here, 
 Mr. Joe, and " 
 
 A ring at the bell interrupted her, and she ran to 
 the hall ahead of Rosa and opened the door. 
 
 "Oh, Joe!" she whispered, "did you get the new 
 position? " 
 
 " Sure thing," said that laconic gentleman, twiddling 
 his hat, and smiling at her in ardent unexpressed 
 devotion. 
 
 "Joe! How much a year?" 
 
 Joe held up six fingers and kept on smiling. 
 
 "Does that mean six dollars," she demanded, "or 
 fifteen hundred?" 
 
 " Fifteen a week, and promise of a raise." 
 
 "Oh, Joe, isn t it lovely?" 
 
 "It s all right if the raise is big enough, and comes 
 soon enough!" 
 
 Lulu refused to consider any possibility but a 
 wonderful raise as soon as the firm had time really to 
 grasp the great value of Joe, and, of course, that meant 
 an early date; and Joe smiled at the radiant hopes of 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 325 
 
 her, and got as much joy out of it as if he already had 
 the extra pay envelope. 
 
 " Monica is resting and we can t see her now. Let s 
 go somewhere and talk," she suggested. But Joe 
 looked at his watch and shook his head. 
 
 "Not this day, office hours in ten minutes, forty 
 blocks away so long!" and the tall boy shook her 
 hand and fairly ran for the elevator. To be the small 
 est cog in a wheel of big machinery was filling Joe 
 with the responsibilities of life. 
 
 Lulu breathed an impatient sigh. It was horrid 
 not to be able to earn money and enjoy oneself at the 
 same time. But the sight of Monica coming through 
 the music room, almost made her forget her 
 disappointment as she rushed into her arms. 
 
 u Oh, Monica dear! I m the first to say welcome 
 
 home." 1 
 
 Monica greeted her and took up the little tray of 
 accumulated mail, glancing over the envelopes and 
 opening a few. 
 
 "I hear you also have been out of town," she 
 
 observed. 
 
 " In Washington," assented Lulu, with a little clasp 
 of the hands, expressive of delight. " Lovely! Mr. 
 Sargent came there last week. How he was lionized! 
 Do you know his Twilight Woman has been translated 
 already into I forget how many languages. Span 
 ish and German I m sure of. Oh, I ve lots of news. 
 Nell is back, and Tony; and Gillie has a new note- 
 
326 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 book all about me. Joe is working like a slave 
 fifteen dollars a week! That doesn t seem big to 
 some folks, but I d marry him on that tomorrow, only 
 mama would do all the law would let her and laws 
 are awful things ! " 
 
 " Little Anarchist ! " said Monica, teasingly, and 
 then, suddenly grave, she added, u Lulu, wait! It is 
 not so long until you will be of legal age." 
 
 " Wait nearly two years ! " protested Lulu, dolefully. 
 "It s easy to see you never were in love. You are as 
 bad I mean as sensible as Mr. Sargent." 
 
 "To be as sensible as your Mr. Sargent is high 
 praise," agreed Monica, with the little mocking smile 
 which Lulu found adorable, though she did not always 
 understand it. "What particular brand of wisdom 
 has he expressed lately?" 
 
 " Oh, we got off by ourselves at a tea last week, and 
 I told him all about Joe, and and mama!" she 
 added, viciously, " and he gave me a lot of good 
 advice talked to me like a grandfather." 
 
 Monica absently sorted some of the mail, and opened 
 a note from Hettie stating that she was coming at once 
 with Sister Teresa. Then she looked up from the 
 written page to ask, "What did he advise, Lulu?" 
 
 " Told me to wait," confessed Lulu, with an injured 
 air, "unless I wanted unhappiness for myself and 
 remorse for Joe. Told me I was too young to under 
 stand all the reasons, but that I must not meet Joe 
 secretly as I have been doing. Oh, he had me crying 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 327 
 
 before he got through. He said secrecy was not 
 always romantic, and sometimes it was demoralizing." 
 
 "What a curious statement from a novelist," 
 observed Monica. "I thought secrecy was part of 
 their stock in trade." 
 
 And Lulu wished she could say something to make 
 Monica like Mr. Sargent better, yet did not dare 
 express herself, as she was rather in awe of both of 
 them. 
 
 Rosa came in with a special delivery letter, and Lulu 
 took her departure, after a warning of the stampede 
 there would be when the word went out that the studio 
 door was actually open. 
 
 Monica walked to the window to open the letter, 
 and her eyes softened at an intimate term of endear 
 ment, and the eager restlessness of the writer to be 
 near her again. 
 
 " ... It will be very soon as soon as I dare. 
 We each have so many things to consider and peo 
 ple. My sister is here in Washington, and that has 
 detained me a few days. Her husband has been 
 appointed Consul to an oriental post and our mother 
 is going with her for a year. I hope you will consult 
 Hallet the earliest possible hour concerning the 
 divorce. It can certainly be arranged now without fur 
 ther interference. Your letter has a sad tone I do 
 not understand. Has even this brief separation made 
 you morbid? Please cheer up, and keep a light in the 
 window for me ! Don t be surprised to have me ring 
 
328 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 you up at any hour. And what is the unwritten thing 
 you have to tell me? I am counting the hours until I 
 can be with you. Are you ? " 
 
 Rosa, having removed some of the heavier things 
 from the willow trunk, was about to move it, but hesi 
 tated, and made many trips to and from the clothes 
 closets, her fond, questioning eyes on her mistress at 
 every turn. That letter seemed of vast importance, 
 for Monica was too abstracted to note anything about 
 her, until Rosa, with a disappointed sigh, picked up the 
 trunk and attracted her attention. 
 
 " Maum Rosa," she said, hesitatingly, " I do not 
 think that is you need not send that trunk to the 
 storeroom; I may need it." 
 
 " Now, Miss Mona ! " sighed Rosa, in an aggrieved 
 way, "you ain t a-goin away again, is you?" 
 
 "I may," acknowledged Monica. 
 
 " An jest got back ? I reckon I go along next time ? " 
 she added, hopefully. 
 
 " I can t quite say; it will take time to arrange," and 
 Monica turned away her head rather than see the 
 anxious, strained look in the eyes of the old woman. 
 
 44 Miss Mona," she said, pleadingly, "why you put 
 me aside like an ole wore out ox? You ain t tellin me 
 you been down at the old homestead an it s marked 
 on this here trunk! How you make out to live there 
 thout me along? Five miles to a town, two miles to a 
 neighbor house, no white folks of quality anywhere 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 329 
 
 around! Miss Mona, why couldn t I go long to look 
 after you?" 
 
 "I was not there but a little while," said Monica, 
 evasively. " I did miss you very much." 
 
 "Well, that s something," conceded Rosa, wiping 
 her eyes with her apron, "but tain t all. You re 
 troubled in your mind a heap, Miss Mona, an that 
 jest worries me. I heered you a-walkin that floor 
 nigh all night long. I I reckon it s all along o 
 that married business?" she added, wistfully. 
 
 "Suppose I should tell you some day that I was 
 going to be really married?" and Monica tried to 
 smile lightly at the thought and, making a failure of it, 
 turned suddenly grave, u or that I am married?" 
 
 Maum Rosa s eyes were round with wonder. 
 
 "Again? Miss Mona!" 
 
 "No!" burst out Monica, vehemently,. as she arose 
 hastily and began pacing the floor in a fever of nervous 
 ness; "the only marriage! Don t remind me of that 
 other horror. 
 
 " But, Miss Mona, how you ever get married if you 
 don t recollect it long enough to get unmarried first? 
 They all pestered you to divorce him, an you 
 would n t." 
 
 "Oh, I didn t know, I didn t know!" breathed 
 Monica, regretfully. "I thought I was right, and I 
 was sorry for the woman who could love him ! If 
 only he would have promised, oh don t make me 
 think of that mistake, that awful mistake ! " 
 
330 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Then she sank into a chair and regarded Rosa, who 
 sighed ponderously and shook her head in sympathy 
 with her Miss Mona s regret. 
 
 "But, it is a long time since I went away, Maum 
 Rosa," she said at last, "perhaps time even to be 
 divorced and married again. And suppose, only sup 
 pose it could be arranged like that, and and that I 
 would not want people to know for a whole, a little 
 while?" 
 
 She strove to speak lightly, smilingly, but the 
 embarrassment and the eagerness showed in her eyes, 
 and she could not meet the wondering, disapproving 
 gaze of the old nurse. 
 
 u I reckon Mr. Hallet is smart enough to fix it up 
 that-a-way unbeknownst in the court house," ventured 
 the old woman, dubiously; "but he -why, he s too 
 fine a gentleman for that, Miss Mona, an 1 a heap too 
 proud o you ! " 
 
 She was puzzling this worrisome problem out so 
 earnestly in her own mind that she did not note the 
 quick flash of anger in the eyes of her mistress, and 
 she continued, conscientiously, "Yes, Miss Mona, he 
 knows that gentlemen don t marry with ladies that- 
 a-way. Some of them well, some of them make a 
 heap of trouble for they family by marrien folks that 
 way, but they don t marry ladies." 
 
 " Maum Rosa ! " cried Monica, sharply, and the 
 devoted old creature was startled by the reproof in 
 her tone, the black hands clasped and unclasped 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 331 
 
 nervously, and she peered at her mistress in a half- 
 frightened way. 
 
 "Miss Mona!" she whispered, appealingly, and at 
 the sight of the hurt she had given, Monica patted 
 her shoulder kindly. 
 
 "Never mind, dear old Maum Rosa," she said, 
 soothingly, "I am tired, I guess, and and nervous. 
 But perhaps I will sleep tonight," she added, hopefully, 
 " and feel better." 
 
 She went through the music room, and Rosa, watch 
 ing her disappear in her own bedroom, went about her 
 work with troubled sighs and doleful head shakings. 
 She could not see what she had done to arouse that 
 flash of quick anger in her Miss Mona s eyes. 
 
 The telephone bell rang many times, but to all Rosa 
 had to give the same reply Mistress Wayne was 
 resting and could not be disturbed. Flowers came 
 from Mrs. Allen, who stated that she was coming the 
 next day, rain or shine, and there was a box of fragrant 
 violets from Hamilton Dacy. 
 
 Rosa arranged these in water, and gave a good deal 
 of special attention to a box of white roses with which 
 no card came. 
 
 " Same sort that came yesterday, an day before, an 
 day before that!" she muttered. " Someone certainly 
 did want them here to give her welcome home. I 
 wonder if it is Mr. Hallet?" 
 
 But later in the day Mr. Hallet sent up cheery pink 
 roses with his card and a kindly message, and Rosa 
 
33 2 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 knew that the white blossoms were the gift of someone 
 else. 
 
 Her perplexities were many, and accustomed though 
 she was to diverse types of models, she was more than 
 usually puzzled when Monica made an exception of 
 one caller, and talked for a long time with a nun whom 
 she called Dona Carmelita, though Hettie Craig, who 
 accompanied her, and waited for her in the dining 
 room, spoke of her with admiring awe as " Sister 
 Teresa. " 
 
 Why Miss Mona wanted the nun when she was not 
 painting, was more than Rosa could understand, and 
 she felt almost an aggrieved jealousy against the soft- 
 voiced foreign woman who caressed her mistress with 
 tender words, and touch, and look, as Rosa had never 
 seen anyone do. And when she took in tea, Monica 
 was seated on a low hassock, with her head on the 
 knees of Sister Teresa, while they talked on and 
 on in the Spanish to which Rosa could never get 
 accustomed. 
 
 " Rosa," said Monica, smiling a bit at the wonder 
 of the old nurse, "between the time when you took 
 care of me as a baby, and the time I went back to you 
 married, this lady was my nurse, and mother, and 
 friend. I want her to see you and know I am not all 
 alone." 
 
 Rosa made her best curtsey, but Sister Teresa put 
 out her hand. 
 
 "Love her and keep her safe, Rosita," she said, in 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 333 
 
 her pretty accented English. " It is not the little 
 children needing always the most care." 
 
 "Yes m, that s a true word, too ! " agreed Maum 
 Rosa, amazed, and flattered by such consideration, and 
 relieved to learn that this visible affection had a solid 
 foundation in the western years. "I I never heard 
 tell that Miss Mona had a nun lady for a nurse, but 
 since it s that way, and you done found her again, I 
 hope an pray you can talk her into gettin foot 
 loose from that marriage business, and I ask your 
 pardon for sayin it, too." 
 
 "Yes, Rosa, she knows, and she will talk to me of 
 it," said Monica. " Give Hettie tea in the dining room, 
 and find some sewing for her to take home." 
 
 Maum Rosa promised, and left the room very much 
 cheered concerning her mistress. Mrs. Dacy was too 
 prejudiced for her advice to be worth much in the 
 eyes of Rosa, and Nell was too flighty, but this woman 
 of charm, who carried with her the atmosphere of a 
 different world, filled her suddenly with confidence. 
 Surely now Miss Mona had a woman friend to whom 
 she would give heed ! 
 
 And she went out to serve Hettie, and learn all the 
 wonderful things done in a wonderful way by Sister 
 Teresa and her companions. 
 
 And in the studio Sister Teresa stroked the hair of 
 Monica and murmured: 
 
 " Pray, Querida, and choose the right dream for 
 your life, and in the end all comes to you! Many 
 
334 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 wait too long for the right dream, and all comes 
 very late, and only faith and prayer helps. But to a 
 woman the faith and the prayer must come, cr all life 
 is made bitter. Believe this from me before you learn 
 it in a more sorrowful way." 
 
 Monica Wayne, knowing the story of Dona Carmel, 
 felt the tears in her eyes as she listened; for all the 
 prayers had not saved Dona Carmel from the way of 
 sorrow yet she w?s so good, so good! 
 
 " But after one chooses the dream, what then, Dona 
 Carmelita?" she asked, with averted face. "I chose 
 the wrong dream that morning in San Juan, and how 
 could I know? And the right dream was almost in 
 touch of my hand there, and I how could I know 
 that, either?" she added, bitterly. 
 
 "Only the angels know," acknowledged Sister 
 Teresa, u and I think they look on us often and are 
 sorry;" and then she added, "You will perhaps tell to 
 me that good drearn of San Juan, Querida mine?" 
 
 But Monica shook her head. 
 
 " It was only the shadow of a dream, and I did not 
 know that some day it could have been my own," she 
 answered, sadly, and Sister Teresa, stroking her hair, 
 asked no more. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 TIT HATE VER Hamilton Dacy had said in the 
 bosom of his family concerning the disappear 
 ance of Monica from their midst, it proved effective, 
 and when the Tony Aliens called to take her out for a 
 spin in a new car there was no reference made to the 
 fact of her absence. Dacy thought he knew where 
 she had been, and approved of it, and for once he had 
 asserted himself to some purpose. 
 
 Nell looked radiant, and regarded with distinct 
 approval the white and gray of Monica s hood and 
 cloak. She never could recall seeing Monica in the 
 newest cuts and colors, yet had never been conscious 
 of any lack of harmonies. She looked right some way, 
 though she might choose to wear a Charles the First 
 gown when everyone else was wearing hobble skirts 
 or imitation Empire. Nell wondered how she did it, 
 yet appear always unconscious of dress. 
 
 "Aunt Martha and Fannie are coming in to see 
 you this afternoon," she stated, "but I was determined 
 to get you for a little run and lunch somewhere up 
 country, so you could give us our honeymoon lecture 
 without much of an audience." Then to her husband, 
 " She told me, Tony, you were too good for me ! " 
 
 335 
 
336 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Why, oh, why, did you not tell me that?" sighed 
 the happy man, assuming a lugubrious expression. 
 
 "Too hopeless a case!" retorted Monica. 
 
 "I suppose you haven t seen Lane since we left?" 
 queried Nell. "No one seems to have seen him but 
 Fannie, and I get cold chills when I think of what we 
 did to him, and that we have him yet to meet! " 
 
 " Oo-o ! " shivered Tony. 
 
 " Never mind, little boy; I 11 protect you ! " 
 
 "Thank you, darling!" breathed her husband. 
 
 "And that portrait," continued Nell. " Of course, 
 Lane ordered it, but we want it, and he should make 
 us go down on our knees for it. I wonder if he will? " 
 
 " And I have a little wonder of my own," observed 
 Monica. " There was to be a companion portrait of 
 Mr. Sargent. I am wondering if I lose that order 
 now?" 
 
 "No paint it, get your money!" advised Nell, 
 with decision. " It will be ready for his next girl." 
 
 " From the way Mrs. Fan is raving over him," said 
 Tony, sagely, " she evidently would not mind being 
 next." 
 
 "Oh, she always raves over any celebrity she 
 chances to know," scoffed Nell. "Wants everyone to 
 know the importance of her dearest friends." 
 
 " Malice in that remark," was Tony s comment, 
 " also jealousy, because you are out of the running for 
 that particular celebrity. Here is our little lunch 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 337 
 
 place, and you can forget your loss in something to 
 eat!" 
 
 They returned to the studio a couple of hours later, 
 Monica going at once to the telephone to ask if there 
 had been any calls. When told that Mr. Sargent had 
 called up twice, she was conscious of a wave of sick 
 ness sweeping over her in her utter disappointment. 
 Twice! and she had been simply killing time by silly 
 chatter and silly eating with two happy people, who 
 needed no one. Twice! and she did not know where 
 to find him, and 
 
 "He left a message that he would call about five 
 on the chance of finding you," added the operator. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " 
 
 " Monica that little run in the open has given you 
 color," observed Nell, who was removing her veil and 
 regarding her picture, still on the easel where Lulu 
 had placed it. " Has Aunt Martha been here? Well, 
 she will be. Fannie has her in tow for some canine 
 pet function. Did you ever think Aunt Martha would 
 come to that? Of course, she may come to worse if 
 she trails with Fannie." 
 
 "And Mrs. Fan is helping locate stock already for 
 that old plantation of Oilman s^ in order to be good 
 and ready when he gets it," said Tony, informingly, 
 to Monica. "We met them at dinner last night, and 
 the things the lady knows about the proper caper in 
 dogs wow!" 
 
338 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " Oh, well/ reminded his wife, " it gets her in with 
 the sort of people who own that sort of dogs and 
 there you are! It looks piffling to me, but it really 
 isn t if it builds the ladder she wants. Gillie has asked 
 us all down to that old place for a housewarming soon 
 as the case is settled. Me for the horses there instead 
 of the kyoodles." 
 
 Monica was moving about restlessly while they 
 chattered and told her the things they deemed of inter 
 est. At Nell s mention of the color given her by the 
 ride, she had glanced in a mirror, and then added to 
 her corsage the white buds of roses received that 
 morning. Then she criticised the dressing of Mrs. 
 Allen s hair in an ultra mode, and told her she must 
 change it if the portrait was ever finished. She was 
 eager to have them go, to be alone, yet nervously keep 
 ing up discussion of trifling things, while she watched 
 the clock, and wished she had opened the door to all 
 the others the day before ! 
 
 And when she heard Rosa going to the door she 
 turned warningly to the two, 
 
 "This is the time to seek shelter if you fear to meet 
 the man you ran away from," she observed. 
 
 "Lane? and Nell s voice was almost tragic in her 
 surprise. " Oh, Tony, hide me ! " 
 
 She clutched Tony by the arm and fairly dragged 
 him behind a tall screen a trifle to the dismay of 
 their hostess she had not anticipated that her teas- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 339 
 
 ing suggestion would be taken literally and it left 
 her for a moment embarrassed. Then she turned to 
 meet the newcomer, with her finger to her lips, 
 warningly. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Sargent," she said, with a polite show of 
 interest; "it is nice of you to hunt up my workshop 
 again." 
 
 " Not so nice as it is of you to open the door to us 
 after the eternity of your absence ! " 
 
 " If eternity lasts no longer and flies so swiftly all 
 our guide books will need to be revised," she remarked, 
 lightly, though she was flushing and tremulous under 
 his devouring gaze. " I had some friends here who 
 were anxious to meet you," she added, as she turned 
 to the screen, "but their extreme shyness " 
 
 She folded the screen back, and to her own surprise 
 found Nell and Tony, kneeling with heads bent, and 
 hands clasped prayerfully. Sargent regarded them 
 with quiet amusement. 
 
 "Yes, I have a recollection of their extreme shy 
 ness," he observed, "on a wedding date. They were 
 shy about three thousand miles." He extended his 
 hands over them in mock solemnity. " Bless you, my 
 children, bless you ! " 
 
 "Oh, Lane, you are good as golc* was Nell s 
 tribute, as she scrambled to her feet and seized his 
 one hand, while Tony held the other. 
 
 "You know I warned you I would take her if she 
 said so." 
 
34 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " So you did," agreed Sargent. " I forgot all about 
 that until ten days ago had no time before." 
 
 Monica Wayne smiled at him, mockingly. 
 
 "Were your duties as a lion in Washington too 
 arduous?" she inquired, and he glanced at her, 
 quizzically, but made no reply. 
 
 "Lane," volunteered Mrs. Tony, warningly, 
 " remember that you are no longer * cousin-to-be to 
 an artist! Do you still find it necessary to come and 
 be snubbed?" 
 
 He regarded her blandly, quite aware that she was 
 more than a little curious. 
 
 " If I am willing to risk any amount of snubbings 
 for the precious privilege of meditating before a cer 
 tain unfinished portrait" but the laughter of the 
 others interrupted him. 
 
 " All very fine," commented Nell. u If you had been 
 so impressive in days past I might not have asked 
 Tony the second time to marry me." 
 
 " Don t reach for all the honors," suggested Tony. 
 " I asked the first time." 
 
 "We were wondering," remarked Mrs. Wayne, 
 casually, " whether I was still to get the order for the 
 other picture your portrait?" 
 
 " Certainly, Lane ; have it painted before you find 
 your next girl, the ideal woman. Gillie will tell you 
 modern love never lasts long enough to paint a pair of 
 lovers while in love. The camera is the only thing 
 quick enough to catch them." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 341 
 
 "Nice, hopeful outlook for me" grumbled Tony, 
 "with a till death do us part contract on my hands." 
 
 "Oh, women are constant, naturally," announced 
 his wife, with a most virtuous expression, "but the 
 men " 
 
 " If we have no belief in men, they will have very 
 little to live up to; don t you think so?" queried 
 Monica, and Nell dropped into a chair and stared. 
 
 "How changed are the minds of the mighty! Do 
 you remember, Lane, how she used to snub us all to 
 extinction if we dared talk constancy in this studio? 
 Of course, Monica, it s this way," she elucidated; 
 "we pretend to believe them, and they pretend to be 
 deceived by our pretense, but no one is fooled, even a 
 little bit!" 
 
 There was laughter, and some argument, between 
 the Tony Aliens over this statement, while the eyes 
 of Monica and Sargent met in a long look of veiled 
 understanding. She turned away with quickened 
 breath to greet Mrs. Dacy and Fannie Smythe-Orville, 
 whose glance went quickly from Mrs. Wayne to Mr. 
 Sargent. She had never forgotten that he was always 
 willing to go with Nell to that studio, though he 
 shunned every other social thing. It would be curious 
 if, after all and her mind worked rapidly as she 
 crossed the room and tried to read the future for Glyn- 
 don Wayne, if, after all, this glacial wife of his could 
 be aroused to a really active interest in a divorce. 
 
 "Delighted to find you home again," she fluttered 
 
342 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 with her sweetest smile, u and Mr. Sargent. How 
 nice! I ve something really good to tell you, you 
 heart breaker ! " and she drew him aside with a little 
 coquettish air of secrecy. He listened with a polite 
 smile, but his eyes were on Monica, and his heart filled 
 with impatience as the group enlarged instead of 
 diminished. She also was under a feverish, nervous 
 strain, visible to him if not the others. His eyes soft 
 ened as he looked at her and remembered how often 
 she had deceived him in the other days by that assump 
 tion of cool serenity. 
 
 "Well, Monica, I can t say you look any better for 
 your trip," said Mrs. Dacy, looking her over, critically, 
 "Were you painting?" 
 
 " A little." 
 
 She went into the music room to find a portfolio of 
 California photographs for Tony, and Sargent for the 
 first time had an opportunity to offer his assistance and 
 speak with her alone for a minute. Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville directed the attention of Nell to them, and she, 
 much amused, noted that Lane was speaking with quiet 
 earnestness to Monica, who turned away with an 
 abruptness almost petulant. 
 
 "Aunty," she whispered, with real joy, "you may 
 observe that your favorite for first place is not wear 
 ing the willow for me, not for a moment. He just 
 reached town, and has come straight to see Monica." 
 
 " A lot of good that will do him." 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 343 
 
 " Not a particle, and Hallet is in the same boat. He 
 was here before any of us, with roses." 
 
 "That s the effect of this studio life and the inde 
 pendence of it. I am out of patience with George, 
 for, after all, she is still Glyndon s wife." 
 
 "Why don t you add Poor Glyndon ?" asked her 
 niece, irritated at the tone. But the entrance of Hallet, 
 and the greetings, quelled the little discordant note. 
 Everyone liked Hallet, and Nell scolded him for com 
 ing so late that she could only say "Howdy," as she 
 and Tony were scheduled for a tea they did not dare 
 miss. 
 
 "And where, Tony, is that book we got for Lulu? " 
 she demanded, as she straightened her hat and adjusted 
 her wraps. "You did not leave it in the car, did you? 
 I want Monica to decide the binding." 
 
 Tony found it in the pocket of his overcoat and 
 slipped from its pretty box a volume in blue and 
 silver. 
 
 "Very sweet," commented Mrs. Smythe-Orville, 
 perfunctorily, as he extended the book for her opinion, 
 " and so dear of you to remember her. Is it a story 
 book? She is devouring romances these days. Mr. 
 Gilman selects most of them." 
 
 " Monica, I want your artistic opinion on this," 
 decided Nell. "Would you select this for Lulu in 
 preference to a flexible kid binding? I could have 
 the latter in any shade." 
 
344 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " I should think the decoration of this would appeal 
 to her," and Monica turned the volume over to look 
 at the back lettering. " The Mill on the Floss" ; " it is 
 very daintily gotten up." 
 
 "What book is it?" asked Mrs. Smythe-Orville, 
 sharply. " I never looked at the title, will they 
 change it?" 
 
 "What is the matter?" demanded Nell, "don t you 
 like it?" 
 
 "I know nothing about it, but Lulu is so curious 
 she is at that awful questioning age. If she likes the 
 story she will want to know all about who wrote it, 
 where she lived, and well, all the details. So, you 
 see," she added, appealingly, "you see, it wouldn t 
 do. We can t quite afford to ignore the author s pe 
 culiar mode of life and, as a gift to a young girl " 
 
 "Oh, good Lord!" growled Nell, as if sending up 
 a prayer for patience. Only Monica heard her, and 
 she gripped Nell s hand for silence. 
 
 The pointed lack of comment, or encouragement, 
 caused Mrs. Smythe-Orville to recall that night at the 
 bungalow when Mrs. Wayne had made her plea for 
 another woman across the water. 
 
 "Oh, I don t mean to be uncharitable," she added, 
 "I really feel the deepest pity for the misguided 
 creatures who forget the, ah the conventions in that 
 way. But should I, or should I not, allow my daugh 
 ter to form an admiration for such a person?" 
 
 Sargent, watching Monica, felt a dull, furious re- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 34? 
 
 sentment against the speaker. His hands clenched 
 with the desire of primitive man to protect his mate. 
 Wild, unknown instincts swept over him, and it was 
 with an effort beyond the usual that he schooled him 
 self to remark quietly. 
 
 "If your daughter has the intelligence to appre 
 ciate the wonderful brain of that wonderful woman 
 you have reason to be proud of your daughter! " 
 
 "Oh!" fluttered Mrs. Smyth e-Orville, with the 
 eager desire to be well in the graces of McLane 
 Sargent. " It is not a question of brain, Mr. Sargent. 
 I know nothing about her brain, but I think we all 
 know that the, ah her husband was a man whom 
 the law would not allow her to marry ! " 
 
 "Their marriage, because of a technicality, was 
 without legal form," he assented. " But it was true 
 marriage, for all that." 
 
 "Lane Sargent, I am astonished!" confessed Mrs. 
 Dacy, shaking her head at him in her most decided 
 way. "I never expected to hear you express such 
 sentiments. Such a woman is and should be dis 
 graced. The man could never protect her from that." 
 "His devotion might make amends." 
 "Perhaps," conceded Hallet, "but how can we 
 know? I doubt if it ever does make amends to a sensi 
 tive, refined woman." 
 
 "Refined?" and the tone of Mrs. Smythe-Orville 
 was a protest against the term. 
 
 "Certainly; even absolute evil is not always coarse. 
 
346 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 For example, there is Sargent s Woman of the 
 Twilight: 
 
 "But you must concede that such relations are a 
 relative evil/ she persisted, and Nell glared at her, 
 irritated beyond endurance that she had the lack of 
 tact to bring up such a subject after that experience at 
 the bungalow. No wonder Monica turned her head 
 away in stony, absolutely stony, silence! 
 
 " It depends entirely on the man and the woman in 
 the case," said Sargent, in reply to Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville s last statement. "The same rules apply to 
 marriage under every recognized law." 
 
 Hallet smiled at him with lifted brows. 
 
 "You go far," he observed, "and you may be right 
 in one way, but when a man takes a woman for his 
 wife, and has to apologize for her, it spells disillusion. 
 He may keep up a brave pretense, and even succeed in 
 deceiving the woman always, but the affection of which 
 a man can not be proud is not the sort to influence him 
 to much that is good, and if he is a thinking man he 
 knows it." 
 
 " Good sermon, George," volunteered Tony ap 
 provingly. "We all promise either to be good or 
 stop thinking. Whose side are you on, Madame 
 Monica?" 
 
 "I know before she speaks," said Nell, with the 
 laudable desire to end the awkward subject. "She 
 never does agree with Lane." 
 
 "Then, consider that I have spoken," said Monica, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 347 
 
 after a moment of hesitation. But she turned to Hal- 
 let with a look of appeal, maddening to Sargent, at 
 whom she would not look at all. 
 
 "Do you mean that?" she asked. "You really be 
 lieve it is not possible for a man to care for a woman 
 with the best love of his nature simply because her idea 
 of marriage does not depend on legal forms? Sup 
 pose the legal form is not possible, as in the case 
 quoted, would not the absolute sacrifice she made, her 
 devotion " 
 
 She ceased speaking as Hallet, slowly smiling, shook 
 his head. 
 
 " Men care most for the women who make no such 
 sacrifices.* 
 
 " Such men would be ungrateful animals," decided 
 Sargent; but Monica, whom he addressed, did not 
 even look at him. 
 
 " I fancy," she remarked, " that it is not gratitude 
 women care for, but love." 
 
 " You had better come and talk to me, Lane," sug 
 gested Nell; "you ll be more appreciated!" 
 
 Monica turned again to Hallet as to a bulwark of 
 strength from whom she hoped much. 
 
 ;< You are thinking only of your legal affairs, and 
 the type of person oftenest involved there. But the 
 great loves of history have been unwedded loves des 
 perate, unhappy loves," she urged; "and such natures, 
 can you measure them by smaller rule?" 
 
 "But this is not the age of romantic devotion, 
 
348 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Madame Monica," said Tony, shielding his head from 
 an imaginary blow from his wife, " even if I do say 
 it as hadn t ought to. Most of us would rather be 
 happy in an average sort of way than to be desper 
 ately happy and desperately miserable by turns." 
 
 "Do I exchange this book?" demanded Nell, "and 
 if so, for what? My humble opinion is that the author 
 of it was more happy in the life she chose than any 
 we could have chosen for her." 
 
 "And the world," said Sargent, "is richer for that 
 life." 
 
 "Lane, I am disappointed in you," protested Mrs. 
 Dacy, solemnly; "you pretend you did find a saint-like 
 creature who lived in that half light of life your 
 "twilight woman" but that was in a pagan, out of 
 the world place. No one believes in them anywhere 
 else. And suppose there had been children?" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Dacy," agreed Hallet, "that side of 
 the situation has to be considered. All the decrees of 
 courts cannot change the social status of the children 
 of such marriages." 
 
 " Do any of you high-brows know anything against 
 the social standing of old Mother Hubbard who went 
 to the cupboard?" demanded Nell, desperately. "If 
 she is all right, I will exchange this for an illustrated 
 account of her wonderful dog, warranted not to cor 
 rupt the youthful mind! Fan," she added, in open 
 confidence to Mrs. Smythe-Orville, "you are the sort 
 to strain at a gnat and swallow a camel, and sometimes 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 349 
 
 you make me very tired. Good-by, Monica! Come 
 and see us, Lane. Come, Tony boy." 
 
 Hallet was beside Monica as she clasped hands with 
 Nell and Tony, and Lane could see how deep was his 
 interest as he asked her guardedly if she had not come 
 back to allow him again the privilege of looking after 
 that legal matter for her. 
 
 And Lane could scarcely believe his own hearing 
 when he heard her say " no." 
 
 " I think it would be right to venture now," urged 
 Hallet. " The same obstacle can never occur again." 
 
 But Monica shook her head. 
 
 " I am going away," she said. " I have only come 
 to pack up. Life here has been spoiled for me. I am 
 going away for quite a while." 
 
 " I hope at least you will allow me to talk to you of 
 it again," he said, as Mrs. Dacy joined them, and 
 Sargent found Mrs. Smythe-Orville s muff, and walked 
 with them to the door. 
 
 " I will see you to the elevator," he said, and bowed 
 to Mrs. Wayne, as they all went out along the hall 
 together. 
 
 "I ll be back, Monica, I left my shopping bag 
 here," called Mrs. Dacy, but Monica scarcely heard. 
 She stood in the middle of the room looking about her 
 in a desolate, lonely sort of way, carrying an ache to 
 the heart of Sargent, who glanced back, and saw her 
 there. 
 
 But when he returned, after leaving the others at 
 
350 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 the entrance, she was not in the room. He halted, 
 puzzled for a moment, and then went into the music 
 room. 
 
 "Monica," he called, softly; "Monica!" 
 
 The inner door opened and she stood on the 
 threshold, all her cool self-possession gone, her hands 
 reaching out to him in utter abandon. 
 
 " Is it true. Lane, is it true? Oh, they were thrust 
 ing knives in me, all those people! Is it all true?" 
 
 She was trembling as from a nervous chill and he 
 drew her into his arms, holding her close as if to bar 
 out all discordant memory of the world. 
 
 " Dear," he said, gently, " such people will always 
 have such ideas, and they are the ideas of the ma 
 jority." He could feel her grow rigid in his arms as 
 he spoke. "We can t change that, or argue it now. 
 Rather than see you tortured like that again, if there 
 was no other way, I would part from you forever!" 
 
 "Yes, certainly," she said, coldly, and endeavored 
 to free herself. 
 
 "Monica!" 
 
 "There are no bonds about you." 
 
 " Monica ! " 
 
 "And all the doors will be open always to you! " 
 
 "By" 
 
 "You heard! It is only your ( women of the twi 
 light who are disgraced, the world sees no shac[ow 
 on the lives of men!" 
 
 "We all know that, but it has nothing to do with 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 351 
 
 you and me. We will be married, as other people are 
 married, as soon as it is legally possible." 
 
 She gave him a strange look, and releasing herself 
 gently sank into a chair, covering her face with her 
 hands. He stood looking down at her, troubled, per 
 plexed, then brought a chair beside her, and drew the 
 covered face to his breast, touching with his lips the 
 beautiful crown of her hair. 
 
 " I can t understand you, my Dona Querida," he 
 half whispered in the fond reasoning tone of a love 
 that was absolute. " So short a time since we parted 
 in your wonderful old garden, yet I find you a differ 
 ent woman! You come back to consult Hallet about 
 that divorce, yet I heard you tell him you had no busi 
 ness for him to arrange. We planned that you remain 
 here for the winter, yet I hear you say that you leave 
 very soon." She nodded her head in silence, and 
 nestled closer in his arms. "Your letters have been 
 filled with a vague discontent, you seem to have for 
 gotten everything of our life together, the days just 
 past, and the plans for the future." 
 
 "Oh, the future!" breathed Monica, sobbingly, and 
 rose to her feet with outflung arms of utter despair. 
 She would have evaded him, but he caught her in his 
 arms, and held her, gripping her in fierce protest, and 
 the tone of tender reasoning was gone. 
 
 "Do you think I will allow this to go on?" he 
 demanded. "It is this infernal secrecy wearing on 
 your nerves until you are actually ill. I will not have 
 
352 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 it one more day than is necessary and you shan t go 
 away! " 
 
 "I must go, Lane, I must!" 
 
 " No, tomorrow you have Hallet plan for that 
 divorce, here or elsewhere! It may take months, 
 and" 
 
 "Months!" she interrupted, despairingly. "I tell 
 you, I meant what I said to Hallet. I I have had 
 to change my mind concerning the divorce." 
 
 He stepped back from her, anger and incredulity in 
 his face. 
 
 " Changed your mind! Changed your mind? And 
 about our marriage?" 
 
 "And about our marriage!" she agreed, hope 
 lessly. 
 
 "Are you absolutely mad?" he demanded. "Has 
 the accursed chatter of those women " 
 
 "Oh," she moaned in utter abandon, "the talk of 
 those people could not have hurt me if I, myself, had 
 not made it possible. The talk of those people oh, 
 Lane! " and her tones were tender with the weight of 
 memories. "It was only you and I in all the world! 
 And I had been so sickened of the world s creeds and 
 laws, many of them weak, many of them wicked! 
 They seemed such trifling things that I threw them 
 aside glad to show you the world was nothing to me 
 and that you were everything ! But the talk of those 
 people if there had been children! Lane, they are 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 353 
 
 right, I only thought of our world as it was, not of 
 our world as it might be ! " 
 
 She was clinging to him, her face hidden, and her 
 frame shaken with dry, despairing sobs. He stroked 
 her hair soothingly, his eyes hard and strained from 
 the pain he had to witness and for which he could 
 give so little help! 
 
 "Monica!" he whispered, "look up, don t hide 
 your face from me like that. I scarcely know you in 
 this mood. Where is my sweetheart comrade of our 
 southern days? Where is my Dona Querida, the little 
 rebel who would have defied the universe ? Look up, 
 sweetheart. Where is your daring, your bravery, your 
 philosophy ?" 
 
 " Gone, all gone ! " she confessed, brokenly. 
 
 "Then I must do the thinking for both," he de 
 cided, " and act at once. I will see Hallet tonight, and 
 tell him he is to go ahead, and " 
 
 " No, no, no ! " she protested, wildly. " You must 
 not, you can not! It is too late for that!" 
 
 "Too late?" He stared at her, frowning and 
 perplexed. 
 
 "She said // there had been children oh, 
 Lane" 
 
 Her voice sank to a mere whisper, and with drooped 
 head and hands clasped tightly over her breast she 
 stood before him, wordless yet eloquent. 
 
 For one astounded moment he gazed at her, incred 
 ulous, and then swept her into his arms. 
 
354 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " My poor little girl!" and his voice trembled with 
 its weight of tenderness. "And you have been fight 
 ing this question out all alone? Well, sweetheart, we 
 will share the secret together now, you and I ! " 
 
 "And we will go away?" she whispered; "away?" 
 Yes, we will go away. Now listen: your friends 
 are coming back, they must not find me here. We 
 must be very careful and very wise, little woman. 
 After they have gone, I will return, and we can have 
 the long hours for our plans. Is that what you 
 want?" 
 
 She nodded her head in silence, and a great tender 
 ness swept over him at the new shyness, and her sud 
 den absolute dependence on him. He lifted her in his 
 arms and laid her on the couch, kneeling beside her 
 and looking deep, deep into her eyes. 
 
 " I am going now," he whispered, " and while I am 
 gone you are to lie here and rest, and hold but one 
 thought close in your heart! Shall I tell you what 
 it is?" 
 
 She nodded, and held his hands clasped in hers, 
 while he bent over her, his lips on her forehead, her 
 eyes, and her tremulous mouth. 
 
 " It is that you belong to me now more than ever 
 my Dona Querida 1 " 
 
 Twice Rosa ventured into the studio after the last 
 caller had taken his departure, but each time her mis 
 tress lay with closed eyes as if asleep, and she feared 
 to disturb her. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 T ATER, however, a call at the telephone told her 
 Hettie, with Sister Teresa, was downstairs, and if 
 Mrs. Wayne was not engaged 
 
 "What is it, Rosa?" asked Monica from the couch. 
 "Yes, Hettie was to bring back some work today, 
 and Sister Teresa has a protege near here for whom I 
 promised help. I don t feel quite equal to help of a 
 strenuous sort, Rosa, but have them come in here, and 
 perhaps some tea " 
 
 She felt too worn out by the day to adjust herself 
 easily to even the simple demands Sister Teresa or 
 Hettie might make, yet it seemed easier to receive 
 them than not to, notwithstanding the fact that she 
 could feel the older woman s desire to come close 
 close as she had been in the other days. 
 
 And Monica Wayne knew that in the new world 
 the world of the new dream she must walk alone 
 without sympathy or understanding from women ! 
 
 If the love of the one man enfolded her, even that 
 must be a triple wall against their old world, and their 
 very hearts must do sentinel duty forever along the 
 parapet! 
 
 "Ah, Querida mia\ Is it that you are ill?" and 
 Sister Teresa bent over her eagerly. "An ache in 
 
 355 
 
356 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 the head maybe? All the people coming, yes? Good 
 that it is only the tired body today. Hettie has come 
 but now with me from where there are tired souls. 
 So good she is, your Hettie ! For a child she is so 
 wise to help." 
 
 Monica lay with her hand sheltering her eyes as 
 the light was turned on in growing dusk, and Hettie 
 coming in uttered a little cry at the sight of her pale 
 face. 
 
 "You are really ill, are you not?" she asked. "A 
 headache? Oh, let me help that! I can, I am sure I 
 can this way," and she pressed her fingers slowly 
 over the temples. 
 
 "Your fingers are cool, you are very kind," mur 
 mured Monica, in a sort of dreamy content that the 
 thought of the headache would send them home very 
 soon and then he would come back, and then 
 
 "Kind!" breathed Hettie Craig, with a little sigh, 
 " I wish I could do some kind thing for you. You 
 lifted me out of despair, and have given me beautiful 
 work. I did not bring the sewing because I have been 
 helping Sister Teresa today, and she praised me for 
 it. Oh, and I was so proud, and " 
 
 "Where is she?" asked Monica, opening her eyes. 
 " I want her to know that Mrs. Allen is interested in 
 her work of refuge. I told her of it today. She will 
 send all the work she can, sewing and embroidery, and 
 she will send her friends." 
 
 "How good!" murmured Hettie. "Sister Teresa 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 357 
 
 went with Rosa to see that your tea is made some 
 certain way. She will be happy over special interest 
 in the work. To keep the girls employed helps so 
 wonderfully and to have pretty work " 
 
 Her voice died away in her throat, and Monica, 
 opening her eyes, saw Mrs. Dacy in the studio. Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville was with her. 
 
 "Oh, there you are," was Mrs. Dacy s comment. 
 "We ran up for my shopping bag, I couldn t carry it 
 to a tea." Then she noticed the girl with averted 
 head who knelt beside the couch. " What is wrong? " 
 she added, "sick?" 
 
 " Oh, no, a bit tired," and Monica got up from the 
 couch with a little nod of dismissal to the girl. 
 "Thank you, Hettie." 
 
 " Hettie ! " and the amazed tone of Mrs. Dacy made 
 the girl shrink as she turned away. " I thought so ! 
 Well, Monica, I must say you are careless!" 
 
 " I don t understand," and Monica looked at the 
 girl, who could not meet her eyes, but stood still, 
 stricken with fear. 
 
 Mrs. Dacy turned to Mrs. Smythe-Orville. 
 
 "That is the girl I told you of at the shore had 
 to send her away for waylaying gentlemen in the 
 garden." 
 
 "Oh, shocking!" 
 
 "Mrs. Dacy!" protested Monica, "there is some 
 mistake, some hideous mistake ! " 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," declared Mrs. Dacy, sol- 
 
358 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 emnly, " she belongs to the class we were discussing 
 here but a little while ago never dependable! She 
 secured one position by referring to me and " 
 
 " It was only concerning the work," said Hettie, her 
 pleading eyes on Mrs. Dacy s face; but the plea was 
 not heeded, for Mrs. Dacy nodded her head warn- 
 ingly at Monica, as she stated grimly: "She never 
 tried that again!" 
 
 " No ! " burst out Hettie with sudden force, and a 
 note of poignant despair as she saw the safe ground 
 crumbling beneath her, "you had me sent away, and 
 that woman had me sent away from another place, 
 until there was nothing left to me but the streets!" 
 
 Monica, bewildered, laid her hand on Hettie s 
 shoulder detainingly, but her gaze was turned on Mrs. 
 Dacy. 
 
 "Is that your Christian charity?" she asked, and 
 while Mrs. Smythe-Orville shrugged slightly and ad 
 justed her furs, Mrs. Dacy felt momentarily uncom 
 fortable, though of course the frightened, desperate 
 countenance of the girl betrayed that she was trapped, 
 and knew it. 
 
 " Monica, you don t understand," she stated, with 
 decision; "also, you should have consulted me before 
 engaging her. Such people always have queer 
 acquaintances," and she made a comprehensive gesture 
 towards the rugs and bric-a-brac. "One would think 
 for your own sake you would be cautious. The girl 
 comes of exceedingly doubtful stock, and " 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 359 
 
 "Even if that were true," interrupted Monica, 
 "could you not, among your various organized mis 
 sions, find a home for one girl who only asked leave 
 to work?" 
 
 " Monica ! " protested Mrs. Dacy, strong in the 
 consciousness of virtuous intents. Your ideas have 
 always been peculiar, and elastic. Fortunately, my 
 name is too well known in deserving charities to be 
 affected by such opinions. I try to do you a favor, but 
 it is evidently not appreciated; but I warn you ! Come, 
 Fannie." 
 
 " So sorry to intrude, dear Mrs. Wayne," murmured 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville, " and I trust you will not allow 
 this sad affair to to really trouble you much. Good 
 evening," and the soft rustle of her gown alone broke 
 the silence as she hastened into the hall after the af 
 fronted lady. 
 
 The room seemed strangely silent after their de 
 parture. The girl stood shamed, as if waiting sen 
 tence, in the middle of the floor. After that one 
 outbreak, she seemed to shrink within herself more 
 than ever, a beaten, shaken reed in the winds of her 
 little world. 
 
 Across the hall could be heard the cheery tinkle of 
 tea things on a tray, and the voice of Maum Rosa, 
 elated that the wonderful lady in the habit of a sister 
 hood should actually walk into her kitchen, approve 
 all things in her soft, musical speech, and find pleas 
 ure in adjusting things on a tray. It was as if a 
 
360 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 habitant of a different planet had stepped down to help 
 wait on her Miss Mona, an invasion a trifle embar 
 rassing, yet to be glowingly proud of. 
 
 Monica, seated on the couch, regarded the shamed 
 girl wistfully, yet did not speak until the outer door 
 had closed on the callers; then she reached out her 
 hand. 
 
 " Come here, Hettie," she said, quietly. "Why did 
 you not tell me?" 
 
 "Oh, I was afraid, afraid!" said the girl, sinking 
 on the floor beside her, in a very tempest of shaking 
 sobs. She had been braced against coldness, but 
 against the tenderness in Monica s tones all her bar 
 riers were useless, and she knelt there, her head on the 
 couch, broken and trembling. 
 
 " Af raid of me, Hettie?" 
 
 The girl nodded her head, struggling to control 
 her voice for speech. 
 
 "Afraid of of everybody," she acknowledged. 
 "Even good women can be terribly hard on the girls 
 who who have not had their chances in life. I did 
 get one place as nurse two lovely children," and 
 there was a wistful smile on her tear-wet face as she 
 lifted it, " and they they were fond of me. But the 
 lady sent me away when she learned my mother had 
 never been married; she could not risk her children 
 with a girl who might inherit vicious tendencies from 
 such a mother." 
 
 Monica rose to her feet abruptly, staring at Hettie, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 361 
 
 fascinated, yet drawing away, and the girl, frightened, 
 appealing, uttered a little cry as she clung to her skirt. 
 
 "Oh! don t you turn against me," she moaned. "/ 
 can t help it. All my life I Ve had to fight that dis 
 grace. You don t know what that means to a girl 
 but it s terrible ! Terrible to be met at every turn by 
 people, men as well as women, who think I must be 
 vile because my mother was no man s wife." 
 
 "Hettie, Hettie!" whispered Monica, putting out 
 her hands in protest, "you, you hurt me! Don t, 
 Hettie." 
 
 Sister Teresa crossed the hall and halted, surprised 
 and puzzled, at the rigid figure of Monica, her head 
 thrown back, staring as if in terror at the girl clutch 
 ing her skirt, the girl muttering, "It is true, it is true. 
 The word mother holds nothing sacred to me. I am 
 glad she died before I could remember her face, and 
 hate it!" 
 
 "Santa Maria!" the cry of horror from Sister 
 Teresa, as she crossed the room and laid her hand 
 on the girl s arm, " what words, what words ! " 
 
 But Hettie threw off the restraining hand and strug 
 gled to her feet, staring from one to the other like a 
 creature at bay. 
 
 " I am glad, I am ! " she protested wildly. " Now 
 you know how bad I am, and you will send me away. 
 But I am glad! That is the one sin for which there 
 should be no forgiveness the endless sin against an 
 innocent child ! " 
 
362 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 u Hettie, little one!" pleaded Sister Teresa, cross 
 ing herself at the horror of non-forgiveness, " the good 
 God does forgive, and the saints do " 
 
 But Hettie threw up her head in the defiance of 
 desperation against the heavy odds of the world. 
 
 "How could He?" she demanded. "Would God 
 dare forgive her in Heaven and leave me here, in 
 hell! an outcast to suffer for her sin?" 
 
 Then the two clung together in terror as Monica 
 Wayne without a word or a cry crumpled down into 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 Maum Rosa, halted on the threshold by the star 
 tling words of the two, put aside her tray and reached 
 her mistress before the other two recovered from their 
 absolute consternation. 
 
 "Oh, what have I done? what have I done?" 
 moaned Hettie, as she huddled down beside Monica, 
 who lay white white as the roses of silence on her 
 own breast. 
 
 "You all go long out of here!" commanded the 
 black woman, her tones thick with rage. "All you 
 white folks in this north country jest a-killin the life 
 out o my Miss Mona ! Don t you touch her! I ll 
 take care of my baby my own self, an 1 you all go long 
 out o here ! " 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 chug-chug of a little steamer sounded through 
 the woods of southern cypress and live oak, and 
 Monica Wayne, under the curtains of swaying gray 
 moss, walked beside a round-faced little man with 
 kindly eyes, and a worried expression. He carried a 
 medicine case, and waved his hand to Jim, Maum 
 Rosa s grandson, who, in a dugout canoe, was waiting 
 a few rods from the river bank to signal the up-coming 
 boat. 
 
 " I am sorry I can t see your husband today, Mrs. 
 Wayne," he repeated, and glanced back along the 
 path, "but I have to get up the river to Atkins Land 
 inggot to!" Then he turned his troubled gaze 
 again to her rather pale face, "You take care of your 
 self," he ordered. "We have to take care of our 
 selves, no matter what we have to go through ! Fact 
 is, we need to take more care the more we have to 
 go through, and, and well don t let anything over 
 whelm you again, and " 
 
 The boat whistle sounded a reply to Jim s signal 
 and it seemed to silence speech for him. 
 
 " But there is nothing now to overwhelm me, doc 
 tor, since he is better," she answered, with a wan 
 smile. " I am tired, of course just the lack of sleep 
 
 363 
 
364 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 but now that he is sleeping oh, it is so wonderful! 
 And when I can tell his father that it will not even 
 be necessary for you to come again, well after the 
 awful dread you know " 
 
 The bell was clanging, and the little steamer was 
 backing in order to head into the shore. Two black 
 men were shoving a plank from the lower deck, and 
 the little old doctor nodded his head, and grasped 
 tightly the hand she offered. 
 
 u Yes, I do know," he said, and his eyes were not 
 quite dry, as he looked on her hopeful face. Yes, 
 dear child, I do know, God bless you! and " 
 
 The plank touched the shore. 
 
 " Good-by," he said, and ran across the narrow 
 bridge. Then the bell clanged again, and the boa? 
 backed into the stream and headed up the little winding 
 river between the lines of cypress, moss-draped and 
 vine-girdled. 
 
 The doctor stood, his hat in his hand, looking back 
 at her for a space; then, lifting his hat in grave salute, 
 he turned away. 
 
 Jim, slender and agile as a weasel, ran his dugout 
 into shore, tied it to a cypress knee, and scudded up 
 along the woods, disappearing around the corner of 
 a high wall of green hedge. 
 
 Monica followed him more slowly. All her move 
 ments had a certain weary languor, and she halted 
 here and there, noting the sudden awakening to life 
 of various blooming things under a late warm rain. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 365 
 
 Jim had been a careful caretaker, and the old colonial 
 cottage had roses abloom over the lattice to the south ; 
 and here and there over the tall hedge a struggling 
 vine peeped, carrying a bit of color. 
 
 Sargent, standing in one of the windows, unbuck 
 ling riding leggings, watched her moving a bit of 
 white and scarlet through the wild beauty of the old 
 garden. Little had been pruned, and the oleanders 
 made thickets of rich color against the gray-green of 
 the cypress trees with their burden of swaying mosses. 
 The scarlet bolero and belt she wore, and the scarlet 
 ribbons of her wide hat, made her, in her white gown, 
 seem but another, dearer flower in the quaint old 
 garden. 
 
 Yet a quick frown of pain came to him as he watched 
 her she fitted that corner of ancient peace so well! 
 In the same garden her grandmother had been wooed 
 in a former day, and Rosa could tell under which 
 rose-tree the mother of Monica had said "yes" to her 
 lover. The place was haunted by the wraiths of those 
 lovely women and the men who had loved them. Their 
 eyes looked down at him hauntingly from the old 
 walls gentle, distinguished faces and one sweet 
 portrait over the writing-desk with eyes so hauntingly 
 alive that there were moments when he could have 
 wished it removed had courage come to voice the 
 thought. The eyes were those of Monica s mother 
 the fair girl wife whose years had been so few. 
 
 He turned with a sigh from the window and opened 
 
366 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 the package of mail for which he had ridden eight 
 miles across the country that morning. Rosa came 
 in quietly from the adjoining room, picked up the mail- 
 bag and leggings and put them in the closet. Then 
 she stood at one of the windows a moment looking 
 out at Monica coming slowly through the garden, and 
 again looked at Sargent, who was opening mail. She 
 seemed worried and anxious, but at last ventured to 
 speak. 
 
 " Mr. Lane, please sir, would you lend me your 
 watch?" she asked. 
 
 " Certainly, Maum Rosa, to time the medicine 
 with?" She did not make any reply as she accepted 
 the watch, and he added, "The place was so quiet 
 when I came in that I thought you were all asleep." 
 
 " No, sir, no one asleep but him," she said, with a 
 motion of her head towards the door; then she added, 
 significantly, "He been a-sleepin all morning!" 
 
 "That s the change for the better of which the 
 doctor spoke, isn t it?" he asked. 
 
 "That s what Miss Mona thinks," she answered, 
 evasively, and she scanned anxiously the face of her 
 mistress as she stepped in from the veranda through 
 the glass door. 
 
 But there was no anxiety in Monica s face. She 
 smiled brightly at Sargent, and went direct to the 
 inner door, looking in a moment, and then turned 
 with a sigh of relief. 
 
 "Lane, I am almost happy this morning," she 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 367 
 
 announced, standing beside him, her hands on his 
 shoulder. "He is still sleeping, and all the fever 
 gone! That good doctor spoke as if he would not 
 need to come again.** 
 
 "That is fine!" and Sargent reached up and 
 clasped her hand, but Rosa, who was about to leave 
 the room, stood still, listening and troubled. 
 
 "Yes, isn t it?" and Mon ; ca removed her hat and 
 gave it to Rosa. " I think he was really sorry to end 
 his visits; told me to take care of myself, and called 
 me a dear child." 
 
 "Called you a dear child, did he?" growled Sar 
 gent, with assumed ferocity; "perhaps it was just as 
 well I was not here ! " 
 
 Monica smiled, pinched his ear, and then nestled 
 down beside him in a low willow-chair. 
 
 "How ungrateful of you!" she observed, "for he 
 wanted especially to see you waited until the last 
 minute. The boat put in for him at our landing. Did 
 you hear the whistle?" 
 
 He nodded, and drew her hand up to his lips, which 
 demonstration having been paid in kind, she arose and 
 began to busy herself with a work-basket filled with 
 dainty muslins, narrow laces, and narrowest of blue 
 ribbons, one bolt of the latter having unrolled several 
 yards of itself to the confusion of the rest of the 
 collection. 
 
 "You know, Lane," she observed, "I never was 
 nervous in this way before. I suppose it is because of 
 
368 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 the awful strain I we have been under. I seem to 
 need some work for my hands to do every minute 
 when I am not with him ! " Then after a moment she 
 added, "You were much longer away today." 
 
 "Yes, there were so many things to see to per 
 sonally, and one has to guard every move. It was a 
 good thought to have my mail forwarded to a point 
 in Alabama, though I am confident that postmaster 
 thinks I am a highway robber or a confidence man hid 
 ing somewhere in the swamps. It would have its 
 humorous side under other circumstances, but," and he 
 turned to the letters, "it is horrible to live in this 
 enforced secrecy! " 
 
 Monica ceased winding the blue ribbon, and stared 
 into the garden. 
 
 "A year ago you did not find it horrible," she said, 
 at last. 
 
 "What?" he turned to look at her, an open letter 
 in his hand. Then at sight of her face he put down 
 the letter and took her in his arms. 
 
 "A year ago," he said, tenderly, "there was no 
 such danger for you. A note of alarm and we had 
 only to fold our tent, that is untie our canoe, and drift 
 away into some other haven of romance! Ah, those 
 beautiful days and that beautiful garden and your 
 wonderful rose arbor! Paradise must grow roses 
 with that same fragrance else Paradise will lack 
 charm for me 1 " 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 369 
 
 He was smiling down on her, but she did not meet 
 his gaze ; her eyes were clouded, and her voice almost 
 cold, as she asked: 
 
 "When Love looks backward for sunshine, what 
 sign is that?" 
 
 " Monica, don t," he begged. " This curse of 
 brooding, of analyzing each emotion, will kill our 
 happiness forever if you persist in it. We have en 
 dured suffering enough these past weeks how dare 
 you be morbid today? " 
 
 u Oh, Lane, you are right you are always right," 
 she confessed, brokenly. "I know I make you 
 wretched. But what we have lived through makes a 
 woman think, think, think!" 
 
 "Stop thinking 1" he commanded, drawing her 
 down beside him on the window seat. " Measure your 
 happiness today by our misery if our boy had not 
 recovered to have gone on through life together 
 without him ! " 
 
 "Together! " she half whispered; but he caught the 
 strange tone, and turned on her sharply. 
 
 "Together how else?" he demanded. "Why do 
 you speak like that? Why do you look like that? 
 What accursed thought is in your head now?" 
 
 "Oh h!" she assented, wearily, "accursed 
 thought indeed, perhaps, but a curse duly weighed and 
 measured, and bought, and paid for!" 
 
 He stared at her helplessly. All that a man could 
 
370 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 do he had done all that she would let him do; and 
 as he looked at her, a moody figure staring out into 
 the sunlit garden, he knew it had been a failure! 
 
 He stooped and kissed her hair as she sat, chin on 
 hand, a still, fateful figure. 
 
 " One year ! " he said, hopelessly, " one year ! And 
 all our love has not brought happiness to you! oh, 
 Monica !" 
 
 But she did not answer, and he turned with a sigh 
 to the desk. It seemed so incredible that they should 
 be together, yet not happy. All his heart went out to 
 her, yet there were times when she made it impossible 
 for him to cross the barrier of moody self-condemna 
 tion. At first he had told himself it was her own health 
 by which those moments of depression were caused; 
 then the troubled secrecy of their journeyings when 
 they had traveled, each separately, to meet at some 
 point out of the beaten track; then, when all their 
 plans had been arranged, and all safety apparently 
 assured, there had come the sudden illness of the 
 young soul for whom they had opened the gates of 
 the world, and her despair had called him quickly back 
 to their one safe home-nest under the live oaks. 
 
 Looking at her sadly, he realized that only time, 
 the long days of the future when she was safely his 
 wife by the standards of the world, would adjust her 
 mind to the sense of security necessary for happiness. 
 The long months of brooding dread were not to be 
 erased by a few hours of hope or sunshine, and there 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 371 
 
 was no word he could speak to lift the cloud from her 
 mind that was the tragic wall between them. 
 
 So he turned back to the desk and lifted the letter 
 again, and as he read there was the warm glow of 
 pleasure touching his face for a moment. The unex 
 pected, unforeseen thing had happened, and he swung 
 round to her with an involuntary exclamation of joy. 
 She lifted her head and looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 But another thought came to him, and the joy went 
 out of his eyes and he pushed the letter back into its 
 envelope. " Oh, nothing," he said, lamely, in answer 
 to her look. 
 
 "Lane, what is it?" she asked, and was keenly 
 alert to the assumed indifference of his reply that it 
 was merely one of the usual things coming to a writer 
 of romances. Some one was always bobbing up ask 
 ing for dramatic rights. 
 
 " But wouldn t you like that?" she asked. 
 
 "I think not." But he did not look at her, and 
 proceeded to tear off the wrappings of some maga 
 zines. 
 
 She came over and stood beside him, and he slipped 
 his arm about her, pressing his face fondly against 
 her sweet, slender body. 
 
 " But you looked so glad for just one moment," she 
 persisted, and then she caught sight of the envelope 
 and realized the significance of the theatrical producer 
 whose address was on it. 
 
 "Lane!" she cried eagerly, "you surely would wel- 
 
372 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 come offers from him. What is it they want? Do tell 
 me if it is good news of your work." 
 
 He looked at her and hesitated, but realized that 
 hesitation would arouse doubt in her ever sensitive 
 mind, and without further protest he gave her the 
 letter. 
 
 "Oh, for Twilight t" she exclaimed, her eyes widen 
 ing at the letter and the terms offered. " But Lane, 
 why this is fine, and unusual. They want it at once, 
 to produce this season. Could you refuse an offer 
 like that?" 
 
 "It seems so," he replied, indifferently. "You 
 see, he mentions the woman they want it for, and, 
 well she would not fit the part, not anything near 
 it and and that s all." 
 
 She knew him so well, so well, and she stood by 
 him in silence while he moved some of the papers 
 about restlessly and turned away his face that she 
 might not see the color flaming over him at her 
 scrutiny. 
 
 "So," she said, at last, "all my help to you in your 
 work amounts to this that you are throwing away 
 the greatest success your work could have because of 
 me!" 
 
 "Monica!" 
 
 " That is what you are doing," she insisted steadily. 
 "You are afraid I will be hurt. You never mention 
 that story any more. Don t you know, your very 
 avoidance of it tells me why? It is your masterpiece, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 373 
 
 it is a thing any writer could be proud of; yet you 
 would bury it, and bury all discussion of it if you 
 could, because oh, Lane because a woman of the 
 twilight is the mother of your son ! " 
 
 "Oh, good God!" he exclaimed, jumping to his 
 idet and beginning to pace the floor back and forth 
 wildly. " Monica, don t say that again stop it, I tell 
 you, stop it! This morbid analysis of every word, 
 every thought, would drive one mad ! Why can t you 
 forget, and be happy?" 
 
 She did not answer except by an eloquent gesture 
 towards the room of their sleeping child. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he Assented, pitifully, as he caught her 
 hand and pressed it between his own; "I know, I 
 comprehend, else I could not have lived through the 
 days of your self-torture." 
 
 " Self-torture ! " she repeated, wistfully. " Lane, 
 should all the penalties for transgressions of parents 
 be visited on children? The remembrance of that 
 other poor child, Hettie oh " 
 
 " Don t mention that girl s name to me ! " he com 
 manded. " Your life has had the very despair of hell 
 in it ever since that day. A smile only when you for 
 get for a moment, a laugh never any more ! Monica," 
 and he held her close in his arms, searching her face 
 with tender eyes, "can t you be a little patient? Can t 
 you be content with the happiness which is ours ? We 
 are together, and we have our child." 
 
 " Oh, Lane ! " she whispered, as a remembrance 
 
374 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 came to her, and a look of fear grew in her eyes, deep 
 ening there while her hands gripped his in terror, 
 "last night I dreamed we did not have each other, 
 and our boy was lost somewhere! I seemed to 
 be searching for him through years, and years and 
 years, in some gray world of dusk where the sun never 
 shone!" 
 
 " Monica ! " he said, pleadingly, but she clung to 
 him trembling. 
 
 " It all comes back to me," she persisted, " and, oh 
 Lane it was a horrible dream! I groped for your 
 hand in the darkness, but you were not there. I ran 
 screaming for you in that awful gloom and there 
 was a gray ship in the far mists, going out to sea. I 
 stood on the edge of a gray world and called, and 
 called but no voice came back! I was all alone in 
 that shadow world utterly alone!" 
 
 She sank down into the chair, her face covered 
 by her hands, while he stood looking down upon her, 
 startled and perplexed, wita some chord of memory 
 vaguely thrilled a gray ship going out in the gray 
 sea, and the mists at the edge of the land rolling 
 between like drifting wraiths. 
 
 The words of a letter came back to him* "the 
 dream seems to belong to you so I send it." 
 
 "Monica," and his tones were tender with the 
 weight of his love and his pity, " it will never be that 
 I sail out from any shore of any world of yours 
 unless you send me ! Even then," and he gathered her 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 375 
 
 in his arms fondly, " I will come back if ever you give 
 me half a chance." 
 
 "I know, Lane, and you are wonderful so won 
 derful to me!" she confessed; "but your very pa 
 tience shows me how very terrible the situation would 
 be if robbed of it. And, dear, all your patience and 
 all your love cannot lift the shadow we live and breathe 
 in always and that dream " 
 
 " It is morbid waking thoughts from which such 
 dreams come," he said, reassuringly, "and the mor 
 bid thoughts will soon have nothing left to feed upon. 
 Now that he is better, we must arrange that I go North 
 the first day possible. The danger to you is doubled 
 so long as I am here." 
 
 "I know, I waken in the night terror-stricken 
 sometimes at the thought of what might happen if 
 his lawyers " 
 
 She halted uncertainly, and he drew her to him 
 with a sharp, decisive movement of protection. 
 
 "Yes, dear, we are both haunted by the same 
 fears," he confessed. "Today near the village I al 
 most had heart failure at sight of some fox hunters 
 a half mile across the fields. There was not one 
 chance in a hundred that any of them would know 
 me which did not prevent me from riding in the 
 pine woods all the way home." 
 
 "I know," she assented softly. "By next week I 
 can let you go next week, when he i ^ entirely well ! " 
 
 Together they went up to the door of their child s 
 
376 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 room and looked in. He was sleeping, with Rosa 
 hovering over him fondly. Monica held up a warn 
 ing finger to Sargent. 
 
 "You might wake him, * she said, and halted him 
 there while she slipped inside and dropped down on 
 her knees by the bed in the shadowy room, the very 
 picture of adoring motherhood. 
 
 Sargent turned back to the desk, gathering up the 
 envelopes and wrappers, every scrap on which his 
 name was visible. As he opened a paper he had over 
 looked, a letter fell at his feet. It had slipped under 
 the edge of the wrapper. 
 
 As he opened it, Maum Rosa came from the child s 
 room, looking back in a helpless, worried way, and 
 moved towards him as if for confidential speech, but 
 he brushed past her, and tapped at the door guard 
 edly, yet imperative. 
 
 Monica, surprised, came out of the room; her fin 
 ger was on her lips for silence. 
 
 "Still sleeping," she whispered warningly. "What 
 is it, dear?" 
 
 U A letter, read it. You see, my dread was not 
 without cause." 
 
 She took the letter wonderingly, but only read a 
 portion, when she turned to him in amaze. 
 
 u An invitation to a house party at Oakland, this 
 state?" 
 
 "Not only t*iis state, but in the adjoining county, 
 and the county line is within a few rods of your north 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 377 
 
 woods ! " and his anxiety was beyond any pretense of 
 control. "You remember the place Gilman inher 
 ited! This has been forwarded, it is ten days old." 
 
 "Oakland," she repeated, and she grew pale as 
 their eyes met. "Why, it must be the old Waldron 
 place, only four miles away! Lane, I am afraid, 
 afraid! You must go!" 
 
 "And leave you?" 
 
 You must! Maum Rosa can help me keep our 
 secret if we are alone, but no one could help me if 
 you were ever seen here. Oh, go, Lane, go at once ! " 
 
 "Rosa, my watch!" 
 
 Rosa came from the child s room, her face ashen 
 with terror, and she touched Sargent s arm in timid, 
 mute appeal, which he did not observe. His eyes and 
 thoughts were only for the woman whose face of 
 dread made his heart ache. 
 
 "Listen, dear," he said, looking at the watch, 
 " the down boat passes in an hour. I can go on that. 
 God ! " he muttered, taking her in his arms and hold 
 ing her close, close in a sort of fierce resentment 
 against the fate of things, " to think that the only way 
 I dare protect you is by deserting you! Monica, 
 Monica ! " 
 
 "You must go, Lane, you must go!" she whis 
 pered, with pale lips. 
 
 "Yes," he assented; "Rosa, tell Jim to get my 
 suitcase to the landing, and have his canoe ready to 
 hail the boat. Warn him to avoid strangers if any 
 
378 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 should pass and to take to the woods rather than 
 answer a question." 
 
 u Yes, sir, you all can trust Jim," asserted Maum 
 Rosa, confidently u but" and she glanced warn- 
 ingly at her mistress "you can t go now, sir not 
 just yet! Oh Miss Mona " 
 
 "Maum Rosa, he has to go, insisted Monica. 
 u Don t be so frightened, you dear old soul! We will 
 get along, now that baby is better. How awful if he 
 had not been," she added, looking at him with wide, 
 frightened eyes " for you would have to go just the 
 same I I will tell Jim what to do." 
 
 Rosa watched her go out, and closed the door care 
 fully after her before she turned her agitated old face 
 to Sargent. 
 
 "Mr. Lane," she half whispered, a you can t go 
 now! You got to break the truth to her, and you 
 can t go!" 
 
 "The truth?" 
 
 She nodded her head and pointed towards the room 
 of the sleeping child. 
 
 "Why," and Sargent stared at her, bewildered, "he 
 is better, the doctor said " 
 
 "Mr. Lane, the doctor said he maybe needn t come 
 back again. He didn t have the heart to tell her the 
 truth, she was so happy cause her baby was jest a- 
 sleepin ." 
 
 "Then- that sleep?" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 379 
 
 "Never wake up no more, Mr. Lane, never wake 
 up no more ! " 
 
 "You mean" 
 
 "No, not yet, but each breath is a little lower an 
 a little lower. You won t go now?" 
 
 " Of course I shall not go." He entered the room 
 softly, and bent over the little mite of waxen human 
 ity. He could see nothing new or strange in its con 
 dition, yet old Rosa was wise in most things. 
 
 "You are sure, Maum Rosa?" he asked, as he 
 stooped to kiss the tiny little hand. 
 
 "I been a-countin each breath, Mr. Lane, I m 
 sure!" 
 
 " Don t leave him," he said, lowly, as he went out 
 to meet Monica, who carried his ulster and hat. 
 
 " Oh ! that blessed boat ! " she breathed, with a grate 
 ful sigh. " I should be wild if you had to wait until 
 tomorrow I never did think I could be so glad to 
 get rid of you ! " 
 
 He took the things she carried and put them aside. 
 
 "Never mind those," he said, looking down into 
 her brave, eager eyes, and wondering how he dared 
 bring further pain to her. 
 
 "Never mind?" she repeated, wonderingly. 
 
 "I mean we have a full hour before the boat 
 reaches this point. Come here, I was thinking of what 
 you said that I would have to go, no matter how 
 it was with with him ! " 
 
 She nodded her head sadly, and did not speak. 
 
380 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "But listen, dear: a year ago we two were here 
 alone. All the world was very far away, but we never 
 missed it. Suppose the day comes when we again will 
 be only two? " 
 
 " What a question ! " her brows were wrinkled in 
 perplexity, " and why?" 
 
 "The time is so short, dear, so very short!" 
 
 " But you said there was a full hour before the 
 boat comes down, and you are nervous!" she said, 
 holding his hand between both her own, " actually 
 nervous, after a whole year, at the thought of parting! 
 You do care for me so much?" 
 
 "So much that love is a torture today!" he burst 
 out, vehemently. " Oh, answer me ! If we had life 
 to begin again we two alone?" 
 
 "Don t ask me, Lane! Forget those morbid 
 thoughts of what life would be without him. I can 
 see only that gray world of the dream, it comes back 
 comes back! " 
 
 " I would be there, close beside you, all our lives," 
 he insisted; but she turned and looked at him so 
 strangely that his arms unclasped from about her as he 
 demanded, "What do you mean, Monica?" 
 
 " In the gray world of the dream you were not 
 beside me," she said, in a colorless tone, horrible to 
 him. " I was groping onward alone, years, and years 
 and years! " 
 
 " But this is not a world of dreams, it is our world 
 of love!" and again he held her close and lifted her 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 381 
 
 face, that he could look in her eyes. "What madness 
 is in you that you look and speak like that ever since 
 his life was despaired of, tell me!" 
 
 She could not meet his gaze, and broke away from 
 him, white and trembling. 
 
 " Oh, Lane, don t ask me, don t ask me ! we might 
 both regret " 
 
 "You are afraid of telling me some truth!" he ex 
 claimed, with sudden insight, as he followed her to the 
 closed door and caught her to him half fiercely. 
 "What is it, Monica, what is it?" 
 
 " Oh, Lane, let me go ! It was only if he had not- 
 recovered, but he has, oh " 
 
 "But if he had not if he does not?" 
 
 "Oh Lane!" 
 
 "Answer me!" he commanded. 
 
 "Lane, I beg of you " 
 
 " I want the truth," he said, grimly. " If he had 
 died, what did you mean to do ? " 
 
 And her voice was very low, very steady, as she 
 answered : 
 
 " Part from you forever." 
 
 He released her then, and stepped back, regarding 
 her in shocked silence. 
 
 " I know," she went on, in the same low, even tone, 
 "you will not understand. You are a man, and you 
 think of it for the first time. I have thought of little 
 else for months; but only a woman would know what 
 the thoughts were." 
 
382 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 He seemed not to hear. The one big fact was all 
 he could grasp, as he looked at her. 
 
 " The love of a year," he said, at last, " and this is 
 the end!" 
 
 "The love of a life, you know it!" 
 
 "And you would prove it by leaving me?" 
 
 Yes," she said, lifting her head and looking at 
 him for the first time, " I would never again go 
 through the mental torture I have endured this one 
 year. It is not fair to the child or to me. I would 
 never again risk bringing the supreme social curse 
 against a child of mine. If I could bear all the penalty 
 myself? yes! and never flinch from anything but the 
 fear of losing your love; but not when each blow from 
 the world strikes the child in my arms ! " 
 
 " Monica ! This is folly, madness ! You are to be 
 you are my wife!" 
 
 Again she regarded him with that still, strange look, 
 and her smile hurt him more than tears, as she asked: 
 
 "Will you introduce me to your mother with only 
 our child as a certificate of marriage?" 
 
 u Monica ! " 
 
 " You see," she went on, quietly, " you have the same 
 conventional prejudice by which our child is put under 
 a ban. I feel differently. I feel only disgraced by the 
 secrecy. We have hidden our love like criminals until 
 the love itself has become almost criminal in our own 
 feelings ! " He attempted to speak, but she shook her 
 head. "Don t attempt to deny it, Lane! I feel that 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 383 
 
 it is so, and that any sensitive woman would feel the 
 same. If I go now beside you into the world, do you 
 know how I shall feel? that I am a woman of the 
 twilight, smuggled in on false pretense, and that you 
 will live in dread lest it be discovered ! Only the face 
 of our boy, close beside me, could help me endure that. 
 Oh, Lane, I meant to be everything to you, yet I 
 have only tortured you because I, myself, became so 
 wretched!" 
 
 "Half your misery is from imagination, 11 he pro 
 tested. 
 
 " I know it. My imagination slept until I was con 
 scious of a wrong against a helpless child; I, who had 
 prided myself on my sense of justice, and ridiculed 
 cowardly people who transgress laws and pity them 
 selves and blame circumstances and invent a Power to 
 forgive their errors ! I can t do that. I have been my 
 own good and my own evil angel, and when I trans 
 gress I can be my own judge. I can t ask forgiveness, 
 it is an empty word to me. I shall atone to our child 
 by a life of devotion; but if he had died, I should 
 have atoned to you in a very different way. I should 
 no longer help you condone secret love, or hear you 
 make excuses for courtesans because the world would 
 rank me as their sister." 
 
 "How dare you " 
 
 " Oh I told you I dare be my own judge ! Lane," 
 and her tones were suddenly tender, " our ideal of love 
 was perfect, but we chose the wrong path to walk to 
 
384 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 it and our very hearts have been pierced by the 
 thorns on the way." 
 
 He stood looking down upon her, the victim of his 
 happiness, knowing so well too well that all his 
 love could not shield her from the scourges of her own 
 remorse. He took her hands in his and drew her 
 gently but decidedly up into his arms. 
 
 " Monica, you must forget all this," he said, 
 quietly. " It is the madness of a super-sensitive 
 woman. You fancy you have lowered my ideals," he 
 nodded, silently; "never mention that fancy again. 
 There might be a limit to even my patience with your 
 moods." 
 
 "I know it," she assented, "there would be; that 
 is as natural a consequence of the moods as the moods 
 are a consequence of my mistakes." 
 
 " Our mistakes," he corrected, " and we will remedy 
 them." 
 
 You mean we will cover them!" she rejoined; 
 "but," and she touched her breast, "here, Lane, is a 
 record that will not be covered up ! And when there 
 are children, the record will not even die with our 
 deaths." 
 
 " Children ; Oh, God ! " he whispered, as he held her 
 close and pressed tender, pitiful kisses on her upturned 
 face. " Monica, Monica ! My heart aches for you 
 I don t know how to tell you, but " 
 
 " Hush ! " she said, putting her fingers suddenly on 
 his lips. " Listen ! Do you not hear ? " 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 385 
 
 The window was open into the garden, and he could 
 only hear the wind sighing through a great pine there, 
 but her ears, trained to the slightest sigh of a sleepless 
 babe, were keener far. 
 
 "Horses, more than one," she whispered, "and 
 voices ! " 
 
 A note of laughter came to them through the open 
 window, laughter gay and high and familiar! 
 
 He held her in his arms, close, close, while their 
 hearts seemed to cease beating that they might listen. 
 
 Then, with a mute appeal for release, she slipped 
 away from him to a window in the alcove, between the 
 parlor and the dining room. 
 
 A voice came to them sweet and clear through 
 the autumn air. 
 
 " I certainly shall, why not? It may be only water, 
 and then it might be fresh cider there is an 
 orchard!" 
 
 "Nell!" whispered Monica, as she picked up the 
 ulster and fairly thrust it into his arms. "Here, 
 quickly, through the garden to the river! The hedge 
 will hide you from the road ! " 
 
 " Monica, I can t leave you now ! " he protested. 
 "You don t know" 
 
 "I know the only way you can protect me is by 
 leaving me," she interrupted. "Good-by kiss me 
 first!" 
 
 "Monica!" he whispered, in final appeal, but she 
 put her finger on his lips and went with him stealthily 
 
386 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 into the garden, as the knocker of the door sent an 
 alarming clamor through the house. 
 
 Maum Rosa, startled, came from the inner room as 
 Monica entered from the garden, closing the door back 
 of her, breathless and intent on every sound. 
 
 " Miss Mona ! " and the voice of Maum Rosa was 
 almost a wail of protest. "He ain t left you, now?" 
 
 "Don t you hear?" demanded her mistress, point 
 ing to the door; "his friends and mine. I will have 
 to see them." 
 
 "But " and the distress and bewilderment in the 
 old face was pitiful, "with your baby " 
 
 "You must help me, and they must never guess!" 
 Monica s tones were a command and admitted of no 
 discussion. She moved to the door of the sleeping 
 child and looked in, smiling. 
 
 "Poor little sleepy man left all alone!" she 
 murmured, "but it shan t be long, dearie!" Then 
 she closed the door, softly. "You may let them in 
 now, Rosa; and if he should awake if there 
 should be the least sound there, lift him carefully and 
 carry him out along the veranda into Jim s quarters. 
 It won t be for long. Let them in now." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Mona!" whispered the old woman, as 
 the knocker again sounded through the house. 
 
 "Maum Rosa, don t you hear me?" 
 
 And Maum Rosa went through the hall, dazed, 
 trembling, and muttering over and over: "My Lord, 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 387 
 
 he ain t never told her! My Lord, he ain t never 
 told her!" 
 
 Monica glanced about hurriedly, covered the work 
 basket, and closed the desk, as Mrs. Allen entered, 
 tempestuously. 
 
 "Well! of all things unexpected!" she exclaimed, 
 embracing Monica and staring round-eyed about her. 
 "If this Isn t luck!" 
 
 "Why unexpected? Didn t you come to see me?" 
 
 " Come to see you ! We did not suppose you were 
 nearer than Mexico ! My horse went lame ; we sent a 
 man back for another and walked across the fields to 
 this road. I was consumed by thirst, and halted to ask 
 for a drink of anything, even water and there was 
 Maum Rosa!" 
 
 "You are not alone?" asked Monica. 
 
 "Alone, good gracious, no! It is Gillie s house- 
 warming party. Nanny is here, and Fan, and Lulu; 
 but Lulu and Joe get lost from the bunch quite a ways 
 back. You were invited ! " 
 
 "I think not. You see I have been rather a bit 
 of driftwood, and not in touch with friends to any 
 great extent." 
 
 "Well, I know an invitation was sent you, care of 
 some art club," asserted Mrs. Allen. " But I must go 
 and tell the others or they will all hate me!" 
 
 " Certainly, tell them," suggested Monica, as Nell 
 fluttered out again along the hall, and then she turned 
 
388 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 to the frightened Rosa. " Can t you find something 
 more refreshing than water, Maum Rosa? Make 
 anything for them," she insisted. " Do anything 
 get them all in before the boat comes down 1 " 
 
 She gave Rosa no time to reply, but followed Nell to 
 the entrance, where she was joyously greeted by a 
 group, known and unknown friends of Oilman s, who 
 were exclaiming over the beauty of the old dwelling, 
 the latticed windows, the wealth of rose vines, and the 
 backing of giant cedars and moss-draped cypress 
 trees. 
 
 They came in gladly, filling her little parlor and 
 library and venturing out on the veranda. Tony and 
 Nanny Allen found the old piano in the alcove and 
 proceeded to try it, and the whole place was trans 
 formed by a busy, chatty group, suggesting Manhattan 
 much more than the piney woods of Georgia. 
 
 "The fact is," confided Oilman, "you are a god 
 send, Madame Monica ! It is not so easy as one might 
 fancy to find amusement in the country for a group of 
 people accustomed to the news of Gotham at their 
 breakfast table. You see, I m so new I don t even 
 know the county roads, and you re a native, aren t 
 you?" 
 
 "So far as birth makes me so, yes; but I know the 
 land almost as little as you. In fact," she added, " I 
 have come here only at long intervals when I wanted 
 absolute retreat, and I slip away again before the peo- 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 389 
 
 pie of the region know I am here. My mother s fam 
 ily are all gone, and I have made no acquaintances. 
 I can t help you even a little bit. n 
 
 " But let me send a carriage for you this evening 
 join our party! " he pleaded. 
 
 "Not possible now," she said, smilingly; "you are 
 a few days too late. I must leave for the north the 
 first boat I can get ready for. The little steamers 
 are my only means of reaching a railroad from here. 
 It is much more isolated than your big plantation." 
 
 "It s ideal!" decided Gilman. "It beats my place 
 in fact, it is almost romantic. How ideally restful 
 to live where railroads are unknown, and the steam 
 whistles of commerce never penetrate ! " 
 
 " Boats have whistles, and bells, too," reminded 
 Mrs. Allen. " I heard a whistle across here before my 
 horse went lame. Was that at your landing?" 
 
 Rosa, who was offering glasses of lemonade and 
 slices of cake to the ladies, almost let fall the tray at the 
 question. Her mistress caught the silver cake basket, 
 and steadied the old woman with a look. 
 
 " It might have been here," she replied. " There 
 are several points where they can run in, but no wharf 
 or regular stopping places." 
 
 From a window looking across the hedge to the 
 grass-grown, old road, Tony Allen turned with a long 
 whistle and upraised hands. 
 
 "Stop pause and listen!" he admonished them. 
 
39 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 u The lost is found ! The wanderer has wandered 
 along the river trail and is wondering now how we 
 all happened to be waiting for him here ! " 
 
 "Tony, you get crazier every minute," remarked 
 Tony s wife between bites of cake. "What are you 
 sing-songing about?" 
 
 "Lane Sargent, the lagging guest," he stated, 
 promptly. " Some of the boys have been down to the 
 landing and there they come with him." 
 
 " Tony, you must be mistaken." 
 
 "No mistake about it," called Oilman, jubilantly, 
 from the window. "There he is, the boys carrying 
 his traps." 
 
 "How strange," murmured Monica to Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville. " Did your party expect him to come 
 by this slow route?" 
 
 " I understood that the invitation was not even 
 acknowledged," replied that lady; "but it is an inter 
 esting coincidence, good enough for your note-book, 
 Mr. Oilman." 
 
 " Monica, let me call him in," suggested Nell, and, 
 as there was a slight hesitation, she slipped her arm 
 around Monica s waist. " Oh, I know you never cared 
 to have him around," she half whispered that the 
 others might not hear, "but he really is a splendid 
 fellow; do let me." 
 
 "Why certainly," said Monica at last, and the 
 long sigh seemed to Mrs. Smythe-Orville, who was 
 watching her, to be one of utter weariness or extreme 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 391 
 
 boredom. It was really almost rude to everyone con 
 cerned. She never could understand how the Tony 
 Aliens were so devoted to a woman who so seldom 
 exerted herself to be agreeable. 
 
 While the others had gone to the windows, or 
 followed Nell, Monica walked to the window seat 
 nearest the closed door, where her very heart seemed 
 centered. She had for a moment a wave of faintness 
 come over her, and through it the gay, laughing visitors 
 seemed as faraway, shadowy people, and the only 
 real thing was what the door guarded the closed 
 door which she must not leave the closed door! 
 
 A sharp fear drove away the faintness, the fear of 
 slipping into unconsciousness there and leaving no one 
 on guard no one to 
 
 "Monica!" and Nell whirled back into the hall, 
 " that laggard appears absolutely unwilling to intrude 
 so unceremoniously; pleads dust and general unfitness. 
 Now, how could one be dusty on a river trip? 7 
 think," and she lowered her voice, discreetly, "that 
 he imagines you still retain that silly antipathy you 
 used to show occasionally. Do you?" 
 
 "How absurd, Nell! I simply knew the man was 
 not going to be my cousin, so I " 
 
 She ended with a slight upward smile, and allowed 
 Nell to interrupt her by a characteristic shake of her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Oh, you wise one ! " she taunted. " May I say you 
 insist?" 
 
39 2 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "Any reasonable thing to please you, dear," agreed 
 Monica, and wondered wondered that none of them 
 read in her tones or her face that their laughter 
 sounded as from outside of her world. They seemed 
 to belong all together, and at times so far away that 
 great stretches of space whirled between. She thought 
 of the great curve of the wave under which she had 
 once been drawn and from which he had brought 
 her safe. What could he do for her now? 
 
 At the window Nell was calling to Sargent that 
 Monica insisted that he come in, and he lifted his cap 
 and nodded assent, though halted to shake hands with 
 Lulu and Joe, who had just ridden up. There were 
 shouts of joy and incredulity as they dismounted and 
 caught hold of him. 
 
 At the window of the dining room Tony Allen 
 stood for a moment beside his wife. 
 
 " I did not hear her insisting, Nell," he remarked. 
 "To tell the truth I wish the trap would come. She 
 doesn t look exactly well to me, and even an extra 
 unexpected guest " 
 
 "Silly! She was always rather pale, you know, 
 and as to Lane he was half in love with her in New 
 York and more than half afraid of her!" 
 
 "Then why encourage ?" 
 
 " Encourage ! Oh, she always snubbed him and sent 
 him about his business; quite right, of course, but we 
 want to see if a year of separation has worn out his 
 fancy!" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 393 
 
 "We, who?" 
 
 "Fan and I." 
 
 "Oh, you girls," murmured Tony, leaving her to 
 join Monica and Gilman, as Lulu ran in breathless 
 and excited. 
 
 "Oh, my dear, dearest Monica! Isn t this the 
 most wonderful ever? And here is Mr. Sargent. We 
 found him in the road, and Joe is coming, oh " 
 
 Her delight was expressed in a final hug, and, thus 
 embraced, Monica offered her one free hand to 
 McLane Sargent in her usual, cool, sweet manner. 
 
 " My little camp is especially favored today," she 
 remarked. " It is wonderful that Mr. Gilman and I 
 never chanced to learn that our garden patches were 
 in the same region! " 
 
 "Now, my boy," declared Gilman, after shaking 
 hands with his latest guest, "I have not asked you a 
 question, but this coincidence goes on record it s 
 unique. We thought Madam Monica on some foreign 
 shore a horse goes lame, and we hobble across some 
 fields to discover a cottage in the grove, and the lady 
 in her own ingle nook! I send a letter to you, and 
 instead of following my directions as to transporta 
 tion, you conclude to try the primitive river way, get 
 a bit bungled as to the landing a five-mile bungle 
 and are suddenly surrounded by the friends you meant 
 to surprise! How is that for coincidence and 
 insight?" 
 
 " Remarkable," agreed Sargent, as Gilman indus- 
 
394 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 triously made notes in one of his ever ready books. 
 " I wonder that phrenologist did not disclose the fact 
 that you were gifted with second sight." 
 
 " Lulu ! " said Mrs. Smythe-Orville, reprovingly, 
 "you are not to go out of sight of the rest when you 
 next accompany the riding party. Mr. Oilman was 
 quite disturbed about you." 
 
 "But we were only lost for an hour or so, and " 
 she added, slipping her hand into Sargent s. " I want 
 to tell Mr. Sargent all about it." 
 
 " Don t monopolize him," suggested her stepmother; 
 "he has scarcely had time to greet all his friends." 
 
 But Lulu held to Sargent s hand until Mrs. Smythe- 
 Orville had followed Nell into the alcove, where 
 Nanny Allen was playing old-time airs softly, and as 
 Monica was about to join them the girl held out her 
 other hand, appealingly. 
 
 "Don t go," she whispered. "I I want to tell 
 you, too. You and Mr. Sargent were our very best 
 friends and we 11 need you now to stand by us, for I 
 have something to surprise you Joe!" 
 
 After shaking hands with Monica, Joe had sat qui 
 etly at the window, but turned at the call, smiling 
 dubiously. 
 
 "Oh, Joe is in it, is he?" asked Monica. 
 
 "Rather! he is It! my surprise." 
 
 The two young things stood, half shy, and wholly 
 proud, facing the man and woman whom they had 
 trusted most, and the woman s eyes were touched by 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 395 
 
 quick tears as she drew the girl to her, fondly. Sar 
 gent reached his hand to Joe, and the young lovers, 
 glowing in their own joy, did not even note the silence 
 of the two. 
 
 " It is lovely to be able to tell you two first of all 
 (oh, this perfectly wonderful day!) " breathed Lulu, 
 " for your advice saved us from something very fool 
 ish once. The laws down here are more lenient to 
 elopers, and I am a year older, and so " 
 
 " I m going to tell Oilman," announced Joe. 
 
 "Yes, let s," agreed Lulu. "He will have to 
 break it to mama on the way home." 
 
 The two approached the window to reconnoiter 
 from that point of vantage the group in the alcove 
 where Nanny was playing "Nellie Gray" and Nell 
 was humming: 
 
 Oh, my darling Nellie Gray, 
 
 They have taken you away, 
 And I 11 never see my darling any more ; 
 They have taken her to Georgia 
 
 To wear her life away 
 
 Monica slipped into a chair by the desk as the two 
 children left them together. Sargent s face was set 
 and white as he looked down on her. 
 
 " Be brave a little longer, a very little longer," he 
 muttered. "Surely they must go soon, but those 
 women are watching you ! " 
 
 She straightened in her chair, and Nell, from the 
 alcove, could see that her upturned face was smiling at 
 
396 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 him; a bit of the old mockery was in the smile, and 
 from a lower shelf of the desk she drew out a 
 portfolio. 
 
 " Really, you are too modest," she remarked. " It 
 is not the first time feminine eyes have turned your 
 way, nor will it be the last. But since you are here, 
 would you care to look at some of my late sketches? 
 I don t think I ever inflicted them upon you in the 
 North. That is a pretty cove I love on the Pacific 
 coast; this was the favorite nook of a friend who 
 was with me. If you have never been along that 
 southern shore you should certainly go it is delightful 
 at the right season. And these" she smiled up at 
 him again as she removed some sketches and slipped 
 them in a drawer "oh, they are only portrait 
 sketches of the same friend. It is perhaps unwise to 
 sketch always from the same model." 
 
 " Monica!" 
 
 She gave him a quick glance of warning as Nell, and 
 Tony, and Mrs. Smythe-Orville approached, and he 
 turned to them with one of the drawings. 
 
 "Charming, are they not?" 
 
 "They certainly are," decided Nell. "I knew you 
 and your brushes were not idle wherever you were, 
 though I must say you look as if you need a holiday. 
 Apropos of drawings, Lane, ever find your ideal 
 woman, the Twilight artist?" 
 
 "Still looking for her," he confessed. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 397 
 
 " Really? That the reason you are still a bachelor? " 
 "One of them. 1 * Then he nodded towards Tony, 
 who was asking Monica to go out with him to look at 
 a new saddle horse. " Your husband is the other! " 
 
 "Oh, very pretty; but, Lane, you are a false 
 pretense," she retorted, while the others laughed, and 
 under cover of their gaiety Monica met his eyes mean 
 ingly as she passed him with Tony going to the alcove 
 window. He walked up near the closed door and 
 stood looking out into their garden of dreams. The 
 irony of life had never seemed so bitter, or the 
 strength of mere human things so trivial when pitted 
 against the fates. 
 
 If he had only dared open that door, and see 
 Gilman spoke to him of the conveyance to the 
 plantation. A cart was to come back to the cross 
 roads. One of the men had ridden on to meet it and 
 send it to the cotage ; it would hold his suit case, and 
 if Sargent would drive Mrs. Allen home in it 
 
 Nanny was playing u Dixie," while some of the 
 others were trying to sing it, and again he found him 
 self speaking civilly and smiling bitterly at the horrible 
 irony of it all, going with Nell leaving her alone in 
 their whirlpool of the fates and driving beside Nell 
 gay, careless, yet worldly wise Nell back to the 
 social joys of a rollicking housewarming party! He 
 seemed a part of some hideous nightmare, where every 
 horror of his own suffering was doubled and trebled 
 
398 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 by the agony he had to witness in her heart, the wild 
 despair from which he could not save her and in which 
 he dared not openly share ! 
 
 "I, myself, am Heaven and Hell!" The old, old 
 words of Omar came to him with a new meaning. 
 Heaven! Yes, the gods themselves had nothing to 
 tempt with that was stronger, deeper, sweeter than the 
 wild love they had known, and had dared to claim in 
 their own way; yes, their Heaven had been theirs for 
 a space, and now 
 
 Were the gods jealous that the Hell was sent so 
 quickly ? 
 
 If only he dared know what was going on behind 
 that closed door! Or if only that conveyance would 
 come and give her freedom to see him once alive if 
 only for one little, little minute! He seemed to live 
 through her heartaches of all the future years if it 
 should not be so. 
 
 Gilman was still talking amiably about his new 
 plantation and his new plans, and Lulu and Joe were 
 lingering near, waiting for a chance to confess their 
 latest escapade without interrupting his monologue. 
 
 At last Joe edged around to the window seat, hold 
 ing Lulu s hand, brazenly, and Gilman looked over 
 his glasses at them, questioning and sardonic. 
 
 " Ah, our lost youth on the one-eyed nag! Did you 
 get her blind eye to the road and lose the way?" 
 
 " Nope," and Joe handed forth a folded document 
 slipped to him by Lulu. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 399 
 
 " I rather think," observed Sargent,, pointing to the 
 paper, u that he got on the blind side of the rest of 
 you." 
 
 "Shades of Julius Caesar!" and Gilman regarded 
 the two culprits, frowningly. "You and you! And 
 with a one-eyed nag, the only animal safe enough for 
 Romeo to ride ! Don t I insist there is no longer any 
 real romance in life? This situation- an elopement, 
 should be romantic. Is it? Not by any manner of 
 means. It s a wonder you did not thrust this at me in 
 a frame." 
 
 "Hadn t time," said the Iridegroom. 
 
 "Or you would?" and Gilman threw up his hands 
 at this final evidence of the non-romantic spirit 
 
 "Now, now, dear, good Mr. Gilman!" and Lulu 
 was using all her blandishments of tone and caressing 
 hand and pleading eye, "you can help the romance of 
 it beautifully by breaking the news to mama easy 
 on the way home. She can t have hysterics on horse 
 back!" 
 
 "A nice part of the work you have laid out for me, 
 you young schemers. But since the mischief occurred 
 at my place, I 11 feel responsible until I see you settled 
 in life. And your poor mama " Then he checked 
 himself to stare hard at the girl. " Jove ! that reminds 
 you led her to think " 
 
 " Now, dearest Mr. Gilman ! You 11 console mama, 
 won t you?" 
 
400 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "Will I? Guess I ll have to ask your poor mama 
 to console me." 
 
 "Now?" demanded Lulu, round-eyed, as he 
 started towards the alcove. He halted and looked 
 over his glasses at her in mock ferocity. 
 
 " No, I 11 break it to her easy, on the way home, 
 where she can t have hysterics." 
 
 Lulu whirled gleefully around the room in a mad 
 gallop to the air of the varsouvienne, with Joe as a 
 lagging partner, while she whispered: 
 
 "Hysterics! His bank account will cure them, 
 Joe." 
 
 Then she checked her unsatisfactory attempts at the 
 dance, and, trying in vain to get the step, rushed into 
 Monica. 
 
 "Do show me," she begged; "you know all those 
 old-fashioned dances. I never can get it started right 
 alone this part." 
 
 Monica turned, feverishly eager for any distraction 
 from the suspense of waiting waiting for them to go ! 
 
 "It is so very easy slower, Nanny like this." 
 
 From the other room Sargent could see her in the 
 witchery of the old dance. The others were applaud 
 ing as Lulu stepped back and the graceful figure in red 
 and white danced the stately measures alone. 
 
 And he he could only watch in silence while the 
 nails of his clenched hands cut into his own palms, and 
 he knew himself in the toils of the fates their love 
 had laughed at 1 He dared not approach her, he dared 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 401 
 
 scarcely look at her. He sat alone with the portfolio 
 of drawings and moved them about mechanically and 
 saw the mocking nooks of a land where their happiness 
 had been hidden and knew that behind the closed 
 door 
 
 Then the closed door opened, and Maum Rosa 
 came out, looking gray and old, and her hands 
 trembling as she saw the dance and touched Sargent s 
 arm. 
 
 " For God s sake ! " she breathed, chokingly, " Mr. 
 Lane, get them folks out of this house ! " 
 
 "You mean already?" 
 
 She nodded, speechlessly, and he noticed the 
 untouched glasses of lemonade brought in on his 
 arrival. 
 
 "Give her this," he muttered between his teeth. 
 "Stop that dance!" 
 
 The dance was already at its close, and Monica, 
 refusing the enthusiastic encore, accepted the glass 
 offered her. Lulu took the other from the tray, and 
 there was much gay chatter over dances, old and new. 
 
 Sargent, white and desperate, joined them, 
 glancing out of the window for the promised convey 
 ance, and, seeing no signs of it, turned to Monica. 
 
 " May we have permission to invade your garden, 
 Mrs. Wayne?" he asked, as a last hope of getting 
 them all out of the room; "the view from here is 
 charming and unusual." 
 
 " Certainly, take possession of it all of you. You 
 
4-O2 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 may find it quaint, but there are only very old- 
 fashioned roses and lilies insignificant things." 
 
 Her glance met his as the others trooped out, led 
 by Nell and Gilman. Sargent lingered until all had 
 gone through the glass door and their calls of joy 
 came back concerning the arbors, and the sun dial, and 
 the wonders of late bloom. 
 
 " Go ! " she murmured, as she leaned against the 
 door frame, utterly exhausted. u Go, take them far, 
 and keep them there." 
 
 " Monica ! " he whispered, all the plea of his heart 
 in his voice and eyes, u I can t, I can t leave you now ! " 
 
 "Miss Mona, Miss Mona quick!" moaned old 
 Rosa, at the closed door, and Monica straightened, 
 terrified at the face of the nurse. 
 
 "Maum Rosa?" 
 
 "Monica!" called Lulu from the garden, "may 
 we have some of these wonderful lilies?" 
 
 "Help yourselves!" she answered, as she went 
 swiftly to Rosa, who grasped her hand, pitifully. 
 
 "Andreses, too? "called Nell. 
 
 "And roses, too; all you like all of them! Oh, 
 Lane, go, go, and keep them there!" 
 
 Reluctantly he stepped out, closing the glass door 
 behind him. The others were already too far in the 
 garden to hear a smothered scream in that closed room. 
 
 But he heard it, yet dared not turn back. 
 
 And behind the closed door Monica knelt by the 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 403 
 
 bed, and threw off wildly the restraining hand of the 
 old nurse. 
 
 "It is not true!" she insisted. "He is not dying, 
 he can t be I Sleepy boy ! Baby ! " 
 
 "Miss Mona! for God s sake !" 
 
 "It is not true, I tell you! Baby come! look at 
 me _ Baby !" 
 
 She gathered the little white form hungrily into 
 her arms, and stood erect, defiantly. 
 
 " It is not true I " she insisted, and, opening the 
 door, walked out, with old Maum Rosa clinging to 
 her, helplessly. 
 
 Sargent sav r Rosa slip the white curtain quickly 
 across the window as a shield, and knew what had 
 happened. In three strides he was back, inside the 
 room. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Lane, make her go back! make her go 
 back!" moaned the old woman, as she shot fast the 
 bolt of the garden door and then the door into the 
 hall and stood, a black sentinel of faithfulness, 
 watching the garden. 
 
 He stood still inside the door and looked into the 
 eyes of the woman he adored the bereft mother 
 and was silent before the agony there. After what 
 seemed a long time he whispered, " Monica ! " 
 
 She stared at him as if she had been waiting a life 
 time for his voice, and then fell on her knees by the 
 window seat, the child in her arms resting on the 
 cushion, and looked up at him, appealingly. 
 
404 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "She said oh, Lane it is not true! she said he 
 
 was dying! our baby, my baby was dying! Oh 
 
 little sleepy man wake up! Baby Baby!" 
 Sargent knelt beside her, and drew her close while 
 
 he lifted the tiny white hand of the child to his lips. 
 
 " Monica," he said, brokenly, with his lips against 
 her cheek. "Monica, he is no longer dying!" 
 
 She arose to her feet, staring at the little body on 
 the window seat, and stepped backwards as if uncon 
 scious of her movement. 
 
 He clasped her to him, but it was only a dazed look 
 she gave as he whispered, " Monica ! " 
 
 Outside Lulu and Joe, far down under the cypress 
 trees, were singing lustily: 
 
 In Dixie Land I take my stand ! 
 I live and die in Dixie Land, 
 Look away ! Look away ! 
 Look away down south in Dixie ! 
 
 And nearer, under the oleanders, was heard the 
 sweet, highly-tuned note of Mrs. Smythe-Orville. 
 
 " Is Mr. Sargent playing truant from our holiday? " 
 
 He clasped her more closely, while his tears wet her 
 cheeks, but her eyes were dry. 
 
 And nearer came a voice they were each fond of in a 
 way the voice of Nell. 
 
 " Where is he, anyway? Lane ! Lane ! come and cut 
 roses for us! " 
 
 "Roses!" whispered Monica, in his arms as she 
 
"He is no longer dying" 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 40$ 
 
 gently drew herself apart; " roses! your world is 
 waiting for you there!" 
 
 " My world," and he strove to hold her again in his 
 arms, "my world is here with you and him!" 
 
 She put him aside with one eloquent gesture. 
 
 "Do not speak," she said, as she lifted the child 
 from the window seat. "Words! words! words! 
 words! we said them all, not an hour ago there!" 
 
 "Lane Sargent!" called Nell, imperatively, from 
 the garden. 
 
 "You hear!" said Monica, evenly, lowly. "They 
 are calling you. Your world a man s world is 
 calling you ! " 
 
 "Monica! Now, when you need me most! need 
 care, need protection " 
 
 "The only protection you can give me is to leave 
 me," she said, clasping the little dead body to her 
 breast. "We have dared all their conventions, we 
 have lived out all of our theory of life, and it brings 
 us here! Kiss me! For the last time good-by!" 
 
 " Monica ! Monica ! " he cried, with all his heart in 
 his voice as his kisses fell on her face and the tiny 
 face of their dead child "Monica!" 
 
 "That is over now," she said, in the same even, 
 tearless way. "It is all over, and they are calling 
 you out there out in our garden of love! They 
 are calling you there you! " 
 
 Her eyes in fond, bewildered questioning were still 
 on the face of the child as she stepped backwards, and 
 
406 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Sargent stared at her incredulous, half-awed, half- 
 stunned, as she turned from him, and the door closed 
 behind her. 
 
 "Monica Querida ! " he called, softly, as he 
 sought to follow her. 
 
 Then he heard a bolt slipping into place, and h: fell 
 on his knees by the door. 
 
 "Monica, open the door for me Monica ! " 
 
 He could hear the sound of a woman sobbing within, 
 but no answer. Rosa, at the alcove, came over to him 
 and touched him on the shoulder, pityingly. 
 
 " It ain t no use, Mr. Lane," she said, trembling 
 with the effort at self-control. "What she is goin 
 through can t be argued with. It s deeper than a man 
 can gauge ! The onliest help you can give is the lookin 
 after these quality folks in the garden they re a- 
 comin back! " 
 
 She unfastened the two doors as Nell and Mrs. 
 Smythe-Orville were visible coming back through the 
 shrubbery, their hands full of roses. 
 
 When they entered Rosa had disappeared in the 
 alcove, and Sargent stood at the window facing the 
 garden. 
 
 " Well ! there is no accounting for tastes," remarked 
 Mrs. Allen. " The idea of enjoying garden sweets at 
 long range ! " 
 
 He glanced over his shoulder at them, and smiled, 
 but did not turn. 
 
 "Supposing that I wanted perspective for my 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 407 
 
 picture, and feared to have the ideal vanish if I went 
 a step too near?" 
 
 Mrs. Allen made a mocking bow. 
 
 "As we were part of the picture," she observed, 
 "you are forgiven. I always did love a clever liar! 
 But I thought I heard wheels on the road." 
 
 Joe came tumultuously through the garden door, 
 loaded with blossoms, a rose in his cap. 
 
 "Your chariot is waiting, Mrs. Allen, and this lucky 
 genius is to be your cavalier," he announced. 
 
 "He is lucky," observed Mrs. Smythe-Orville. 
 
 :( Yes, very," commented Sargent. 
 
 " That is pretty," decided Mrs. Allen. " If you are 
 sorry for yourself " 
 
 "On the contrary," he said, as he lifted his hat and 
 ulster from the window seat, "I congratulate myself! 
 May a man not sigh at the briefness of a happiness 
 to be your cavalier only for an hour?" 
 
 Nell Allen looked at him with a quizzical smile, and 
 shook her head. 
 
 " I told you I loved a clever liar, Lane," she 
 returned, "but you are always puzzling to me when 
 you please me too well." 
 
 "Nevertheless," he said, smiling lightly, "I am at 
 your service, Madam." 
 
 Lulu, Tony, and the others came trooping in, 
 responding to the whistle of Joe on the veranda. All 
 were laden with greenery and flowers, and Tony 
 sported an immense daisy in his buttonhole. 
 
408 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 "You are a sight with that sunflower," observed 
 Nell. "Where is Monica?" 
 
 " She may be in the front of the house," suggested 
 Sargent. "The horses are waiting; had we not better 
 start?" 
 
 " Go and see, Tony," said Tony s better half. "And 
 where is Gillie?" 
 
 " Oh, he is crazy over the garden, and is making a 
 thousand notes," said Lulu, turning to Sargent. 
 "Really, you know, it is the prettiest ever! Just a 
 dream place." 
 
 "I ll go look for him," he said, with a desperate 
 hope of getting them all off the grounds quickly. But 
 he looked to see that Maum Rosa was on guard before 
 he went out through the garden door. 
 
 Lulu drew Nanny Allen into the alcove and was 
 whispering her dearest secret into her ear, whereupon 
 they both began playing the wedding march softly, and 
 with much whispered accompaniment. 
 
 Maum Rosa, who had been watching the restless 
 horses in front of the house, noted the equally restless 
 attitude of Mrs. Allen, to whom Mrs. Smythe-Orville 
 was whispering. 
 
 "I I reckon, Miss Elinor," she ventured at last, 
 " I reckon Miss Mona had a headache from that 
 dance, and has laid down for a spell and fell asleep. 
 She ain t been so special vigorous this last year." 
 
 Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Smythe-Orville exchanged 
 glances as Rosa went back to her former station at the 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 409 
 
 alcove window. From there she could keep the door 
 of Monica s in full view, besides remaining in sight 
 and hearing of the visiting group. 
 
 "Well, where is she?" asked Mrs. Smythe-Orville, 
 when Rosa was safely out of hearing. 
 
 "Vanished on account of Lane Sargent, / think," 
 answered Nell. "Do you notice his anxiety to get 
 away?" 
 
 "But, why ?" 
 
 " Oh, he s been silly enough to let her v now he cares 
 for her!" said Nell, disgustedly. "I k ew he would 
 some day, though he hadn t a ghost of a chance 
 might just as well make love to Miss Liberty in the 
 upper bay. I suppose she has frozen him forever, and 
 shut herself out of sight." 
 
 "Well, shall we go?" 
 
 " Certainly not. If all the men who make harmless 
 love to one had to be exiled, what would become of 
 society?" 
 
 Tony, at the hall door, shouted that the horses were 
 getting restless, but his wife settled herself back among 
 the cushions. 
 
 "You can save your breath, Tony boy," she 
 observed. " I shan t stir until I have seen Monica ! " 
 
 Then the bolt of the closed door was heard slide 
 back, and Monica entered, closing the door behind her, 
 and standing with her back to it for a moment as if 
 resting against it, her hands behind her. 
 
 She had put aside the vivid belt and bolero and was 
 
410 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 all in white, and her still face was that of a statue in 
 which only the eyes seemed alive, the eyes of gray- 
 shadowed flame! 
 
 "Oh, Monica, were you resting?" asked Nell, 
 eagerly. "Is your head better? * 
 
 " I " she put her hand over her eyes for a moment 
 and then let it fall, listlessly "I scarcely know." 
 
 " You do look as if we had been too much for you, n 
 stated Nell, wheeling forward a chair and almost 
 forcing her into it. " You are cold as ice ! You simply 
 must come over to Oaklands with us, and let me take 
 care of you." 
 
 Monica smiled and shook her head the idea of 
 being cured at Oaklands! Sargent came in from the 
 garden, and stood at the door, silent, to hear her 
 answer. 
 
 "To go to Oaklands will not be possible. I leave 
 for Manhattan tomorrow." 
 
 "So sorry you are not to be with us," murmured 
 Mrs. Smythe-Orville. "Good-by, had a lovely time; 
 come, Lulu ! " 
 
 "But Monica," persisted Nell, "I ve a thousand 
 things to talk about. Glyn is going downhill on a 
 toboggan, and " 
 
 "Don t talk about that; it does not interest me. 
 I am not strong enough to help him." 
 
 "Help him? No one expects you to! I only mean 
 that you need not hide in out-of-the-way corners as 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 411 
 
 you have done for the last year. He won t come 
 back." 
 
 " Don t talk about him," said Monica again. "He 
 gave me his name, you know! " 
 
 Sargent, at the door, heard and turned white. 
 
 " Well, if you feel that way about It, I m mum, of 
 course," declared Nell, "but everyone else is talking 
 of it, if you are not; also your little protege, Hettie, is 
 getting along famously with that beautiful Sister 
 Teresa. A lot of us send our orders for embroidery 
 and drawn work there just for the sake of looking at 
 her; she is so very unusual." 
 
 "Yes," agreed Monica, "she is. She is wonderful, 
 I think wonderful through her faith --and work." 
 
 "Shall we find you in the same cozy studio when we 
 get back to little old New York?" asked Tony, and 
 again Sargent listened he who dare ask her none of 
 the intimate questions allowed to the others ! 
 
 " I think not," she said, with a certain shrinking at 
 the thought. "I I have made no plans." 
 
 From the flowers brought from the garden and piled 
 on the center table, Nell selected a red rose to match 
 the one in her bodice, and called Sargent to come and 
 be decked for the sacrifice. 
 
 " If you are to be my cavalier, you must wear my 
 colors," she decided. " I am sure you never wore so 
 fragrant a garden rose." 
 
 "Never," he agreed, appreciatively, and looked 
 over Nell s head to Monica with a mute appeal in L.s 
 
412 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 eyes. Their roses the roses of their love garden! 
 
 Gilman came in bubbling with enthusiasm, a note 
 book in each hand. 
 
 " That garden is a wonder," he declared, " a won 
 der ! As many different kinds of singing birds as there 
 are blossoms. I Ve made notes of them all ! " 
 
 " Gillie, weVe been waiting a month for you," 
 called Tony from the door. 
 
 " Can t help it, just plain witchery down there among 
 the cypresses! Good-by, Madam Monica, enchanting 
 princess of the enchanting garden ! If I had not sworn 
 off modern romance, convinced myself that there was 
 no more of real romance in the modern life than there 
 is real tragedy in it, that garden would have been a 
 temptation. It s poetic, that garden is live oaks and 
 lilies, roses and cypress trees, and birds you remem 
 ber that bird in Dacy s garden the one with the 
 broken wing?" 
 
 He flipped over the pages of the little book marked 
 " Nature Notes " in vain, and at the reminder of that 
 evening the first evening Monica looked across at 
 Sargent. 
 
 "You mean the bird deceived by the transparency 
 of the glass until it dreamed it could fly harmless 
 through the unseen barriers ? Yes, I remember ! Poor 
 bird with the broken wing! " 
 
 "That s the one," agreed Gilman. "You said the 
 experience might give it a new note for its song." 
 
 " But," and this time she dared not meet Sargent s 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 413 
 
 pained, compelling eyes, " Mr. Sargent reminded us 
 that the wider range of feeling would scarcely make 
 amends for its crippled life.* 
 
 " So he did," agreed Gilman. " I made a note of it 
 at the time. There was a poem in that incident." 
 
 "I can t see it," decided the practical Nell, who 
 was arranging an immense sheaf of blossoms pleasing 
 to her. "Your poetic bird was a little fool; it had 
 eyes to see." 
 
 "And," added Monica, falteringly, "since it had 
 eyes to see, its transgressions be upon its own head ! " 
 
 No one but Sargent noticed how heavily she leaned 
 on the back of the chair from which she had arisen, 
 or that her eyes were turned on the table of flowers 
 beside her and avoided the groups of departing guests. 
 From the mass of bloom she lifted one white rose 
 their world-old symbol of secrecy! as Tony appeared 
 with a last despairing appeal to Gilman that he help 
 herd his guests to horse. 
 
 "Oh, eh, yes! my fault entirely," he agreed, as he 
 crowded forward with the others for a good-by to 
 Monica. "Enchanted Princess of the enchanted 
 garden until we meet again!" 
 
 "Oh, shoo! get along, all of you," insisted Tony, 
 whose restless horse was a new and well-beloved pet. 
 " Forward, march ! " 
 
 "We can t march without music," protested Lulu, 
 and then in a low, suggestive undertone she called, 
 "Nanny!" 
 
414 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 Nanny Allen, all a-joy over the new love scheme 
 concluded in their midst, slipped back into the alcove, 
 and crashed out the triumphant notes of a wedding 
 march with which to start the young couple on their 
 homeward journey. 
 
 Gilman, with a sunflower as a baton, offered his 
 hand in mock ceremony to Mrs. Smythe-Orville and 
 led the procession out. Joe whistled, and Lulu sang, 
 until the others outside took up the air, and it floated 
 back to Monica where she stood, still, and a little 
 pale, with only Nell and Nell s escort left, and Nell 
 was repeating, coaxingly: 
 
 " Do come tomorrow ! " 
 
 "I cannot," she answered, lowly, schooling her 
 voice not to scream at the mad mockery of that wed 
 ding march being sung now now now 1 " It is not 
 possible, Nell; good-by for a month!" 
 
 Nell kissed her and tapped her with a red rose in 
 pettish reproof, and even as she said good-by was 
 conscious that Sargent had not once spoken and was 
 waiting. 
 
 As she reached the door she saw him go closer to 
 Monica, holding out his hand which was not taken. 
 
 " Good-by, for how long?" he said, lowly. 
 
 " Forever." 
 
 " Monica ! " he protested. 
 
 But she imposed silence by the white rose lifted to 
 her lips, and he stepped back, conscious of the eyes of 
 Nell, and the uselessness of words. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 415 
 
 "Adios" she said, softly, and then, as he turned to 
 join Nell, she added the refrain of the old Spanish 
 love song, "For siempre adios!" 
 
 He looked at her, cold, and still, and white, with all 
 the fragrance of the blossoms about her. 
 
 Outside was the mockery of the wedding march 
 whistled and sung for their parting. 
 
 It reached her where she stood alone! 
 
 He followed Nell with a mist of tears in his eyes, 
 and she, for a wonder, ceased to be amused at what 
 she had thought a little comedy. Lane was certainly 
 harder hit than she had fancied and, of course, it 
 was of no use at all ! Monica never would care for any 
 thing but her work. Nell was quite convinced that 
 they might have had Monica along with the party if 
 Lane Sargent had not arrived at that particular 
 moment. Monica never had carea much for Lane 
 curious ! 
 
 So she was rather silent, for her, on the way home 
 and held her great sheaf of bloom carefully lest it be 
 injured, and pointed out to him occasionally special 
 beauties among the many, until he was frantic with 
 longing for every nook where they grew the nooks 
 of their love garden never to be forgotten. 
 
 At midnight a lone horseman rode under the stars 
 to that garden and found only a little grave by the 
 white rose arbor and a fond, faithful old black 
 woman, who wept at his questions and shook her head. 
 
41 6 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 " She laid him there among the white flowers with 
 her own hands, Mr. Lane, an* never shed a tear! 
 Then she gets ready, as quiet as a ghost woman, an 
 goes away with Jim in the canoe jest as the river s 
 a-gettin dark under the trees. No, sir, she ain t 
 leavin a word for anybody not even you, Mr. 
 Lane." 
 
 " Of course, Maum Rosa, she knows I 11 follow 
 her." 
 
 "I reckon she knows you ll try to. But a canoe 
 along the black water in the night-time ain t easy 
 trailin , Mr. Lane. She has nigh six hours start, an 
 Jim could throw a blood houn off the trail in less n 
 that time. No, sir; she ain t allowin to be found. 
 She said down there at the edge of the river that her 
 ships were burned, an she was leavin her heart back 
 here in the rose garden. Then then she went out 
 on that gray water jest like a white ghost of a girl 
 into the twilight." 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Tony Aliens did not meet Sargent again for 
 six months, and then it was in Santa Barbara that 
 they turned a corner in an old plaza and literally fell 
 on his neck with joy. 
 
 " Do come along with us down the coast," Nell 
 begged. "You owe us something, for we started out 
 on the strength of your Mexican story, expecting all 
 the old-time Spanish life in every mission town." 
 
 "Yes, and all we have struck is a fine collection of 
 * native sons wlJi a Yankee or middle west back 
 ground," declared Tony, "and all the priests are 
 Irish!" 
 
 "You have to cut out the regular tourist route if 
 you want the old Mexican life," advised Sargent. 
 
 "We have a dandy new car, and a few dozens of 
 letters to leading citizens. Going down to the Mexi 
 can line before we turn. We ll be good and let you 
 work, dig, and slave, if you will only come along and 
 be pilot." 
 
 And to their surprise, he consented. 
 
 Under his direction they evaded the scheduled route 
 of the average Anglo-Saxon, and took to the byways, 
 where the old picturesque life of the Mexican does still 
 exist in little, seldom seen, hamlets. 
 
 417 
 
4i 8 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 And under pepper trees and palms and past fragrant 
 orchards they sped south and ever south, while Nell 
 upbraided him as an absconder from their midst, and 
 told him all the gossip of their set, and praised his new 
 book, while she scolded him for refusing such an 
 excellent dramatic offer for Twilight. 
 
 "Just throwing oodles of money away, Lane," she 
 sighed. " I can t see how you have the heart to do it." 
 
 "Oh, it s rather a nuisance to be tied in New York 
 for theatrical reasons just when all this is calling one " 
 and he waved his hand to the wide ranges where all 
 the colors of the rainbow were literally reproduced in 
 the glow of flowering things. 
 
 "You are as impractical as Monica Wayne," decided 
 Nell, " and beyond that there are no words. None of 
 us have seen her since that day in Georgia. Glyn is 
 partly paralyzed, and lawyers on both sides are trying 
 in vain to locate her. He is over there with a lot of 
 harpies, and all she would need to do is walk in, shoo 
 them away, and take possession. But she answers no 
 letters, and never comes back. Isn t that the limit?" 
 
 " It would seem so." 
 
 "Glyn thinks she has joined some sisterhood for 
 good and all; but I don t know. I can t quite see 
 Monica like that. Anyway, she is doing her work, 
 wherever she is, for there is a new window of hers 
 announced as ready at an early date, so those church 
 managers must know where she is." 
 
 "Why are you always fussing about her when she 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 419 
 
 doesn t care a picayune about any of us?" demanded 
 Tony. " I admire her tremendously, but if she elects 
 to cut the entire family, what is the use of fretting? 
 She knows what she wants or doesn t want." 
 
 " I know, Tony," agreed his wife, " you are perfectly 
 right, but we were such chums. I was so fond of her, 
 and one can t be very fond of Monica and ever forget 
 her. One can criticise, and wonder, and disapprove, 
 and decide that, though she is a genius, she lacks com 
 mon sense I can do all these things by the day, or 
 the week, but I can t forget her! " 
 
 "Well, Nell," said Tony, consolingly, "I guess she 
 was fond enough of you, too; I m sure she was. But 
 when Wayne came over here and stirred up trouble, 
 and all his relatives argued that she ought to go back 
 to him and take care of his money, she simply decided 
 to drop out entirely. It was about the only way she 
 could get a chance at work." 
 
 "Yes, and work was all she ever really did care a 
 minute for," agreed Nell. 
 
 So Sargent sat beside them and heard all Nell s fond 
 imaginings over the loss of her Nell, who could do 
 all things, except forget her! 
 
 And then they whirled down through a mission 
 valley to the sea, and Nell exclaimed over the beauty 
 of the ruin of the century old church set like a jewel 
 in the green velvet of the ranges. 
 
 " Really, and truly, Lane, is n t this the valley of 
 your book?" she demanded, as she gazed in admiration 
 

 
 at the carving of the stone and the stateliness of the 
 great chancel. " I am sure of it from the illustrations 
 yet if it isn t don t tell me. I would rather keep 
 
 my belief." . . 
 
 He only smiled, and let her keep her little doubtful 
 mystery of it, while Tony fished in his pocket for his 
 lists of towns and letters. 
 
 "This is Galvez s town," he decided. "I have a 
 letter to him from a railroad mogul and a pnest, so 
 you two can moon around this pile of rocks whil. 
 
 locate him." . 
 
 Senor Carlos Galvez was at San Luis Key, but his 
 wife, Dona Maria, read the letter of the priest, and 
 made offer of all hospitality if the Senores and 
 Senora would wait over a few days. It might be that 
 Don Carlos would return that week; but there was a 
 cousin marrying a girl at San Luis Key, and there 
 would be a barbecue, and next week the wedding 
 party would be here in San Juan; and if the Americanos 
 would be pleased to stay over 
 
 But the Americanos were content to sit under i 
 palm tree in the patio and drink glasses of rich mission 
 wine and hear the history of how a cask of it had been 
 lost for thirty years in the old secret cellar and then 
 found again. The glass of wine was all they could 
 accept, as they were going south after supper, and 
 perhaps they might make San Luis Key in time for t 
 
 barbecue. , 
 
 Then Nell and Tony slipped away to arrange I 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 421 
 
 supper at the little Mexican inn, and Sargent, left 
 behind, listened to the directions for locating Don 
 Carlos among the many cousins, and tried to see some 
 trace of the hard beauty of the slender Maria in this 
 fat, placid, material matron, whose life had been a 
 success since at twenty-five she was the social head of 
 the mission valley, quite as her husband was the busi 
 ness head that is, in the Mexican circle for, of 
 course, American ranch people did not count. 
 
 It was a pity, she thought, that the American Senores 
 had not come a few weeks earlier, even two weeks, for 
 the rodeos had been fine, and it had been a good season 
 for the horses. 
 
 "Years ago I was in your valley," remarked Sar 
 gent, " but it was the day of the accident to your lather, 
 and I met none of your family. I remember that day 
 seeing a beautiful horse here, a palomino. A young 
 girl rode it, a quite young girl of long braids and a 
 red banda pardon, but was she not of your 
 household?" 
 
 " So many people asking of that girl, that Querida ! " 
 and the tone of Dona Maria scarcely veiled her con 
 tempt. "Are you people?" and she glanced again at 
 the letter of the priest, " are you people perhaps some 
 more lawyers?" 
 
 " Indeed, no ; not a lawyer among us." 
 
 " Well, they did come, lawyers ! " said Dona Maria, 
 with slight patience. "Yes, that Querida was like 
 you said, of our household, and it has made a disgrace 
 
422 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 to us. She was heretic always, and she marry with a 
 rich Americano and went away a very rich Ameri 
 cano who lives in Europe. But she was not wise, that 
 Querida ; always she was smart, but not wise, and she 
 would not live with the man she was married with, 
 though it was said he had barrels and even carts full 
 of money. The lawyers try to make it that she live 
 with him, but she goes away and they never can find 
 her. The lawyer told Don Carlos of that trouble. It 
 was surely great disgrace, but always she was like that, 
 so clever but not so wise!" 
 
 "And she never comes here?" 
 
 "Once she come, last winter. One day she rides 
 over the ranges with the old Indios, and then she was 
 gone again and no one sees her any more." 
 
 "And the beautiful palomino?" 
 
 "My Carlos has always hated that horse," said 
 Dona Maria, placidly; "it was so bad in its temper 
 with him. So he lets his friend, Manuel Moro, have it 
 to run in a race. But its temper was also bad for 
 Manuel, and it would not run for him at all, and all 
 the money was lost a man from Yorba winning the 
 money with an Indian horse from back of San Jacinto, 
 and it made many troubles. So, that palomino had a 
 bad accident," and Dona Maria smiled and looked at 
 him, knowingly, across the edge of her little black fan. 
 "Yes, it was so, and it was found under the cliff by 
 the sea the very next morning after that race ! Manuel 
 said the palomino was a demon, and was like Querida. 
 
The Woman of the Twilight 423 
 
 It would run itself to death for love, but balked when 
 there was good money up. Some horses are like that, 
 Stnor/ 
 
 Sargent thanked Dona Maria for the rare wine and 
 the gracious shade of her palm trees and walked 
 out along the columns of eucalyptus towards the 
 mission. 
 
 In his mind was one clear-cut picture shutting out all 
 the glory of the green and gold of the springtime 
 the picture of the beautiful animal with the living 
 soul of bravery in its body, and of the slender young 
 heretic who had crossed the flood of the quicksands in 
 safety alone, yet " 
 
 He heard the laughter of Nell and Tony, married 
 lovers and happy, in the mission plaza, and halted 
 under the shade of a feathery pepper tree by the fence. 
 
 "Oh, Tony boy," Nell was saying, half seriously, 
 "it s a shame to be married in a place like this the 
 most ideal love-making nook we have ever struck 
 and to find it two whole years too late ! " 
 
 There were murmured words in Tony s voice, and 
 laughter over this tragedy, and then Nell s voice, 
 singing, came to him: 
 
 Brief days of desire, and long dreams of delight ! 
 They are mine when my poppy land cometh in sight ! 
 Oh, Life of my life 
 
 He turned away, blindly. At every turn there was 
 some thought to hurt. 
 
424 The Woman of the Twilight 
 
 The refrain of Nell s song followed him: 
 
 O Life of my life on the cliff by the sea! 
 
 He could only see the wild moor above the cliff and 
 the beautiful horse with its wild rider, strong and free 
 as a bird skimming the ranges. 
 
 But the horse that would have run itself to death 
 for love, lay broken, its bones bleaching on the rock? 
 at the foot of the cliff. 
 
 And the rider? 
 
 He passed the open window of an adobe where ar 
 old man with a crutch sat in a little patio, and ar 
 Indian woman placed a loaf and a decanter of win* 
 on the table beside him. 
 
 It was the old philosopher of many ports who hac 
 talked with him that once in the dusk of the missior 
 arches, and told him to come back to San Juan in ter 
 years. 
 
 He had come back in less, crossing and recrossin^ 
 the lands where her feet had wandered in other days 
 but the journeys had been empty, and the end of th( 
 trail looked far away! 
 
 THE END 
 
DAY USE 
 
 TON TO DESK FROM WHJCH BORROWED 
 LOAN DEPT 
 
 LD 2lA-50m-9, 58 
 (6889slO)476B 
 
 .General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
a p.